Sometimes My Life Is Like The Goonies

(After watching a video about a celebrities reaction to a sloth)

The Pilot: "What, wait, hold on! Sloths are real?"

Me: "Uh, of course?"

The Pilot: "I thought they were like, fake."

Me: "How the hell did you figure Sloths were fake?"

The Pilot: "Because that guy from The Goonies. He was called Sloth so I figured that's what type of monster he was. A Sloth."

Me: "Sloth was horribly disfigured and mentally slow that's why he was called Sloth, because he was slow like the Sloth, which is a totally real animal."

The Pilot: "Oh."

Me: "So, you are telling me at 30 years old you spent your whole life believing Sloths aren't real?"

The Pilot: "Pretty much, what's for dinner?"

Me: "Sloth."

Polygamy Sort Of Just Made My Life Awesome

(This conversation took place after watching an episode of 'Sister Wives' on Sunday)

Me: "I think our lives will be so much better if I were able to have another boyfriend. You could have a Brother Husband and he could do all the stuff you don't want to do."

The Pilot: "Like what?"

Me: "Like, buy me a Bobcat for Christmas. Or an Alligator I could ride on."

The Pilot: " Good luck with that one."

Me: "Fine, I actually hope that your Brother Husband makes the dog love him the most and Bowie will never love you ever, ever again."

The Pilot: "Yeah, let's see him try."

Me: "If you ruin my plans for a Brother Husband for you, I'm going to email your mom about how you are forcing me into Polygamy and your hedonistic ways."
The Pilot: "Yeah right, all I have to do is go onto skype and cry mmmmooooommmmyyyy and she will come up here and murder you with her bare hands."

Me: "Are you threatening me?"

The Pilot: "She's got a black belt in Ninjitsu and a brown belt in Judo, only because she doesn't have the flipping power need to advance to the black belt stage."

Me: "You just used your moms Karate skills to threaten me out of giving you a Brother Husband for Christmas?"

The Pilot: "It's not a threat. I'm just letting you know that my mom is perfectly capable of murdering you with her bare hands at my request."

Me: "I'm totally asking your mom about her radical kung-fu over Christmas dinner."

The Pilot: "Do it, and she'll murder you with the same hands she uses to dish out Christmas pie."

Because I Just Can't Shut Up Before Bed

The Pilot: OK, it's bed time. That means you put your head on your pillow, shut your mouth, and be silent. No more noise, no more questions, no more conversation. Bed. Time.

Me: But all I'm saying is that if I paid for a penis transplant, I'm sure as hell going to show it to everyone that I can. I'm not just going to tuck it in and forgot about it like a vagina! I already have one of those.

The Pilot: Silence, it's sleep time!

Me: Oh c'mon, I just want to talk about my hypothetical, mythical penis transplant.

The Pilot: No, seriously, it's bed time. I'm going to sleep. I'm not talking to you anymore.

Me: But...have you brushed your teeth yet?

The Pilot: Yes.

Me: Your penis?

The Pilot: I will brush your vagina if you don't stop talking to me like that and go to sleep.

Me: Stop being such a prosititute.

The Pilot: You're a messed up chimp and I hate chimps. Good night.

(Ten Minutes Later)

Me: Psssst, did you just call me "a messed up chimp"?

The Pilot: Yes.

(Ten Minutes Later)

Me: Pssst, why can't I be a well-adjusted, socially responsible chimp? Why do I have to be a messed up chimp from a dysfunctional family. Why do my parents need to be alcoholic drug addicts?

The Pilot: Seriously?

Me: I want to go to Chimp University and have a bright future! I want to be a socially responsible chimp, you know.

The Pilot: I'm sleeping on the couch.

This Post Totally Isn't About How I Got Laid. It's About Bears.

At my place of work that has been an increasing amount of bear sightings and a lot of people are saying that it's probably because all summer the forest was burning like fire was going out of style and everyone needed it right now because soon the world would be fire less and it's caused the bears and all the other stupid non-bear animals to migrate to our work site.

Me? I think the bears are staging some type of revolution and are casing the joint to find our weaknesses. It's like, the more they prod and hide in garbage cans waiting to play "Peek-a-boo, I'm a fucking bear going to rip your face off but you don't know that because I'm hiding in the garbage and all you want to do is throw away trash. SURPRISE MOTHAFUDDAH!" and then someone gets mauled. Not me, of course. I don't want to be mauled. Because that'd probably suck really hard and I'm trying to avoid having suckage in my life. And by "suckage" I don't mean "less blow jobs" and by "less blow jobs" I don't mean "I have a dick that needs to be blow jobbed less." Because that'd be fucked. Wouldn't it?

No, what this whole bear thing has made me realize that I needed to realize a life long dream of mine and that life long dream is to ride a fucking bear. Just ride it like a horse and probably coax it to maul people of my choosing. Considering the bears are planning a coupe, it might be hard to trick one into letting me ride it.

So naturally I turned to The Pilot to fix this problem of me not being able to ride a bear and I got all excited when he told me that it could totally be arranged and all I had to do was get home from work to find out what it was.

All day I was excited and telling people that "just you wait, I'm going to ride into work on a bear one day and all you people who I may or may not like the look of your face that day will get mauled. And it will be hilarious.".

And then I got home.

And my reality was destroyed.

When I said "I want to ride a fucking bear" The Pilot totally read "I'm totally getting laid tonight." and then my dreams were shattered and I locked myself in the bathroom and haven't come out since.  Or just had sex with him. Pick which ending makes you happier. The ending where I cried, or the ending where I got laid.

Insight To My Insanity Or How I Spent My Weekend

Discussion with The Pilot following the discovery that we had no coal for the BBQ and thus might not be able to eat our delicious dinner we had planned. The Pilot, "Now I've got to drive all the way to the grocery store!" Me, " This sounds an awful lot like some buddy is whining." The Pilot, "It is whining! It's full blown whining and you aren't even giving it the credit it deserves!"

In a full silent theatre at the last shown down of Harry Potter and Voldemort, The Pilot is the only one who laughed out loud when Bellatrix gets shoved to the side by the darklord. Either he finds domestic violence funny or I should beat him less often so he doesn't feel awkward and embarrassed when it's presented to him on the big screen.

Email spam told me to invest my whole retirement in Alpaca's and I see nothing wrong with this idea.

The dog, while we are in the bedroom, jumps onto the dinner table and eats the left over steak The Pilot forget to throw out. He then barfs all under the table and as punishment gets thrown outside on the deck to rot. He spends the evening grinning at me through the door as if to say "Hey, this deck is awesome and all and I am pretty sure I pee'd on your BBQ but can you let me in now? It's kind of boring and I see you eating popcorn. OK? Awesome." while at the same time The Pilot is sitting around and proclaiming that I committed the worst act of animal abuse ever and someone should poop on my soul.

The Pilot met The Biebs. And it was a shocking experience.

Pillow Talk

(Conversation between The Pilot, the man I've decided to attach the rest of my life too, and myself after watching the last Harry Potter movie. In Bed.)

The Pilot: I wish I new Kung-Fu Karate Ninja stuff.

Me: Why?

The Pilot: So I can beat up anyone I want and ask questions with my closed fist and gets answers in blood.

Me: Who would you beat up?

The Pilot: All those annoying people in the theatre. Like, those parents that made out and let their four year old run around wild at a movie that started at ten at night. Or those people next to us who whispered loudly throughout the whole movie.

Me: I can get behind that.

The Pilot: I'd use my powers for good and just take down the people everyone wants to beat up but can't. Because they don't have super Kung-Fu Karate Ninja stuff.

Me: So, you'd be a superhero fighting for Justice?

The Pilot: Yeah, I'll be beating up all the rude and inconsiderate people and all the people I just want to beat up just because.

Me: So, basically your idea of Justice is whoever annoys you at the moment.

The Pilot: Sort of. Maybe?

Me: That makes you a Supervillian. A dickish Supervillian who's idea of Justice changes depending on your own level of annoyance.

The Pilot: Why are you trying to ruin this for me?

Me: I'm not, I'm just pointing out the holes in your dream.

The Pilot: OK....maybe I'd be a Supervillian.

Me: Now, that's a dream I can get behind.

The Difference Between Male and Females' According To The Pilot

"Do you know what the difference between a man butt and a lady butt is? A man butt has a dink on the other side."

Ride That Never Ended But Did Or How My Vacation Went Pt.2

Part One can be found here!

I'm pretty sure where I left off was talking about the gnomes that I bought my mom. You know those ones that I felt would probably slaughter her before even trying to make her flowers beautiful or have a sappy romance with each other because they would be too busy killing her? Yeah, apparently everyone wanted to see these gnomes so I'm all "Fine, I'll put a picture of them up because you are all a bunch of whiners but don't hate on me when I went to my phone and the only pictures of them I could find are somewhat blurry because I was so damn excited when I bought them and it wasn't at all that The Pilot started to drive even after I was all No! Stop! I'm taking a picture, why is this car moving?" and here is the picture.

I hope you are happy that you forced me to post pictures of those terrible gnomes. They are even prepared for murder what with that saw and shovel. If my mom ends up dead because of these gnomes I have no one to blame but my readership. Or the gnomes.

When I forced The Pilot up out of bed at an ungodly hour that would have made baby angels cry and people to get punched in the face we got up in the morning bright eyed and bushy tailed we decided that it was best to hit the road stupid early because that way we wouldn't waste all day on the road and get that much more time to spend at the cabin! Oh boy, that was such an awesome idea! Not.

All it served to do was make sure both of us were stupid cranky and The Pilot was even more cranky because I made him drive what with me being so tired I'd probably drive us into a tree or a moose just so I could to prove a point about not letting me drive early in the morning.

That meant off to Jasper National park we went! And since it was stupid early in the morning I forgot to have the conversation with The Pilot that we were not stopping for every. single. animal. ever! Last time we went through the park it took three extra hours because ohmyfuckinggod this place just has animals everywhere and they Must! All! Be! Photographed! and I refused to go through that again. Ever.

We stopped several times on this trip to take pictures of a billion fucking elks that all looked the same except for that one elk that had a radio collar on it and I called him "Herpy-Derpy" because all the other elk were like "Dude, you are a complete loser and we don't want to hang out with you because you dress stupid." and had to stand alone all by himself because he was an outcast. Shortly afterwards we saw "Herpy-Derpy 2.0" because he had a radio collar with an antenna and was also eating a paper bag. Classy fucking elk right there, I tell you what.

Then I mentioned that I had to go piss super bad and perhaps The Pilot would be kind enough to turn around so we can go back to the rest stop we just literally drove by two seconds ago and he gave me a giant moving speech about how our trip is about "moving forward" and we should "never turn back" because we should always look towards "the future" and it was very impassioned and somewhat bull shitty because when we saw a bear five minutes later on a hill and drove by it? The Pilot totally pulled a U-Turn on the highway so he could go back and take a picture of it. it was like we were playing "Animal Spotting Bingo" and that was the last animal he needed to win. While I had to sit with a full bladder for another forty-five minutes.

And then we bickered. And then he made me drive. And then I almost got us killed! Fun times!

A Road Trip That Wasn't Going To End But Then It Did

Last Thursday The Pilot and I went hoped into a vehicle and decided to road trip it the five or six hours to the big city because I had a grandiose plan of purchasing a new car only to name it Tom Selleck in which I would hang a moustache from the rear view mirror. We also went with The Pilot’s Gay Husband who honestly isn’t really gay but  is The Pilot’s Best! Friend! Ever! Whenever the two of them get together they always manage to get into some type of stupid trouble and The Pilot always talks about his friend in an excited He is the Best! Friend! Ever! Voice that reminds me of a sugar hyped five year old.

Because I am a morning Nazi I decided that we were all going to have to be up at the ungodly hour of five in the morning so we can hit the road early only to realize once again that The Pilot is not a morning person and it was like trying to excite a near dead horse into a frenzy of activity. It didn’t help when GH didn’t wake up until six in the morning.

If I had a whip or a gun I would have shot-whipped both of them into action and managed to keep our schedule.

The Pilot kept insisting on finding excuses of prolonging our departure and the final straw came when he decided that we needed to clean his vehicle last minute and unpack all the crap he had in the back because for some reason the night before he figured it wasn’t the best time to do it and it was best to do it sometime after the crack of dawn.

When we finally got into the vehicle we went and picked up GH who, shortly after grabbing breakfast, passed out asleep in the back of the vehicle with his sausage egg-McMuffin clutched in his cold, sleepy hands.

That left The Pilot and I to entertain ourselves with music or conversation. Since our tastes in music is varied against each other it was only inevitable that I would be denied sleep and would have to have a conversation with The Pilot the whole time he was driving to ensure that he would stay awake.

Somehow we got on the topic of different types of guns and that eventually lead to what would happen if someone invented a gun that shot rapists out of the barrel and how it could effectively be used to subdue protest hippies.  

Halfway through the drive I was forced to change spots with The Pilot while GH still slept happily in the back and despite almost sending us into the ditch while I tried to remember how to work the wipers the drive up to Edmonton was pretty uneventful. Compared to the last time we drove up, that is.

The last time we drove up we were attacked by the body of a dead rabbit that came shooting out of a semi’s back wheels and splattered on our hood and volleyed up over the top of the vehicle.

Upon getting to the big city we, or rather I because I was the Road Trip Nazi, had grand plans of all the places we were going to visit --- The Zoo, The Museums, The Mall, The IMAX Theatre, oh and getting a car.

Which, honestly, car shopping isn’t all what it’s cracked up to be because we managed to come across every scum-bag car dealer in the world which ranged from old men refusing to actually sell us a car but would become angry when we questioned his sales technique to the old man that kept trying to up sell us to the other man who tried to go behind The Pilot’s back when he was asking questions and sell me a piece of crap car that he figured I would just fall in love with and force The Pilot to buy me even though it was my money that was purchasing a vehicle to a creepy old man that kept ogling my boobies and barely answering the questions we had about vehicles to our satisfaction.

Then there was the one car dealership where I had a bit of stomach indigestion and had to go the bathroom right! Now! And ended up literally destroying the bathroom that was attached to the show room and had a toilet that would flush itself every five seconds while I was in the middle of my business that destroyed the bathroom while The Pilot and GH milled around and pretended to be interested in a new vehicle.

Needless to say I didn’t buy a car from that place. Or I should have for destroying their bathroom.

We stayed at The Hilton and had some fantastically nice rooms and GH ended up getting a free breakfast voucher because they found him wandering the halls in his underwear at two in the morning trying to find out where the noise that was bothering him was coming from and they gave him the free breakfast voucher in hopes he would just stop wandering around in his underwear and go back into his room and never come out again.

We never did get get to go to The Zoo, or Museums, or the IMAX. Instead we went to the mall, Olive Garden (where they totally spiked my drinks despite asking for no alcohol and ended up pretty buzzed by the time the second course came around) and Applebee’s because I wanted to try new restaurants.

I didn’t get a car though much to The Pilot’s disappointment because he really did not want me to feel that the trip wasn’t a waste of my time and was worried I would have felt bad about the trip afterwards.

But, honestly, how can you feel bad about a trip in which you come home with a brand new Apple Desktop and a brand spanking new DSLR Camera?

Well, I do feel bad about that massive poop I did but that’s beside the point.

Unicorns, Beavers, Bill Cosby & Drunk Tristachio

I'm not a drinker. I don't really drink. I can't really stand the taste of drinking. When I was fifteen I ruined drinking for myself. It involved drinking cheap, disgusting booze in mass quantities only because we had it bootlegged and refused to waste it. We drank in the woods between 7-11 and the Police Station because we were rocket scientists. I got blitzed. I got paranoid that my dad was going to find me. I found my Womb Mate at the arena and she refused to acknowledge that we once lived in the same uterus. And probably knew each in passing as sperms -- we were born that close apart. A ten year old convinced me my name was Mary. I rolled around in the snow, convinced that undercover Lesbians were everywhere so I asked if everyone was a lesbian and when my friend got me to her place, I slept for an hour and woke up perfect.

That's how it goes when I drink the few, rare times. I get easily drunk and sleep it off in minutes. No hangovers.

I've only been drunk in front of The Pilot once. I like telling stories when drunk. So I told him a short five minutes story that he thought was funny and he wanted to record. When he recorded it...this is what he got.

It is a bit on the lengthy side and probably not something you want to listen too at work unless you have headphones on. Or your children. Or grandmother. Or anyone, really.



Watch Story Of The Beavercorn in Comedy  |  View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

9-1-1 Never Appreciates A Good Butt Sex Joke

The Pilot is a musical guy.

He can play guitar.

He can sing.

He can dance.

He also turns every song in the known universe into ballads about butt sex. It's always about the butt sex songs with him. It's not his fault. It's a compulsion. Or the fact that no matter how much times he mentions butt sex in a song I always laugh. Because I'm five. And a little boy. Who thinks butts are funny.

Today while he was driving to work he was singing loudly to the radio and sprinkling it with a healthy dose of anal intercourse when his phone decided to have a life of it's own and pocket dial someone. Or, as The Pilot would love to state is that his dink dialed the number because that's how savvy his dink is. It knows how to use touchscreen cellphones.

It just so happened to dial 9-1-1 and they got a five minute rendition of how to have butt sex to the tune of Bon Jovi.

And then they called him back.

And then they lectured him about how inappropriate it is to call 9-1-1 and sing about anal intercourse loudly.

And how it's terrible people like him that ruin it for everyone else.

And how he should learn to lock out his phone so it doesn't call 9-1-1.

And how he has a nice singing voice and to never, ever call 9-1-1 again even if he was being stabbed by a dude with a knife made of cancer.

When he told me this I giggled every time he mentioned butt. Because I'm a six year old girl.

Sometimes He Makes My Brain Hurt So Much

Usually when The Pilot works afternoons he isn't home until late in the evening and I being the person who gets home shortly after five makes dinner. Heck, I make dinner mostly every night and when The Pilot makes dinner it almost always turns out to be such a disaster that I can't even get mad at him because it makes my brain hurt so much just to see what he's managed to do to ruin dinner.

Last night after I got home from work I wasn't feeling very well so I went to bed early because I wanted to ensure that I would be able to punch whatever illness in the face or at least wake up feeling even sicker that I could call into work and lounge around in my jammers all day while watching Full House.

When The Pilot got home, later then usual, he saw me sleeping and since it's basically like baby kitten angels sleeping when I sleep he decided that he was going to take on the great task of cooking dinner and began to tackle Chicken Alfredo Fettuccine. Normally this is a very easy, easy dish to make when your sauce comes from a can and all you have to do is cook the chicken pieces and boil the noodles.

With him? It was like rocket science and he ain't no scientist.

After being home and literally cooking for an hour and a half, he woke me up to present to me dinner! Which consisted of giant, mangled pieces of chicken that weren't exactly all the way cooked and a pile of starchy, clumpy noodles with no sauce anywhere in sight.

Looking at it literally made my brain melt. We had to mop it up off the floor before the dog started licking it up.

When I pointed out that, "Honey, where's the Alfredo sauce?" he gave me a blank look before he clued in and dumped cold, cold, sauce on top of the mixture and proudly handed it too me.

It took ten more minutes microwaving each dish to ensure that the chicken was fully cooked (which really didn't help much when the outsides were so crunchy hard) and the sauce was hot before we finally ate our food around midnight.

4 Signs That I May Potentially Be Dating A Child

1. The Pilot's Reasoning as to why he believes the Whale is Different in Each Free Willy Movie: "It's a different whale and they all have the same deformed fin because the whale is sad that they got caught and their fins flop when they are depressed."
2. What The Pilot Thought A Bar mitzvah Was: "You mean it's not a Jewish gathering of 13 year olds that get circumcised together?"
3. When in Charge of Grocery Shopping for One Night: "I brought home chicken nuggets! They are shaped like stars and planets and stuff."
4. In attempts to get me to guess the historical documentary he was watching on Netflix about Auschwitz: "Guess what I'm going to watch? I'll give you a hint. It rhymes with Sandwich."