1 Notes

Usual Thursday Type Shit 05/10/12

  • Him: Hey! Wait! Aren't you the girl who posted a photo of a vagina last week?
  • Me: Heh. No. That was a mussel, actually. A whole plate of 'em.
  • Him: Ha! Too funny.
  • Me: You haven't seen many actual vaginas, have you?
  • Him: Mussels, eh? They any good?
  • End Scene.

2 Notes

Usual Sunday Type Shit 4/29/12

(Sara dials Shan, one of her oldest and dearest friend’s mobile number…ring, ring.)

Her: Mrs. Santiago! How are you my friend?
Me: I’m doing well, thanks. Hey, is this a bad time to chat?
Her: No, but We’re repelling down a cliff right now. Jeremy’s about 15 feet below me right now. What’s up? Are you ok?
Me: *laughing* I’m fine. I frigging love you two. I’ll call you later.
Her: Tell you what, I’ll call you in a few hours, but I’ll send you a text pic of Jeremy, my view of him is pretty awesome. Love you!
Me: Love you, too. *chuckle, snort*

This is not uncommon. These two are generally on some backcountry trail, dodging mountain lions, kayaking across river rapids, or summiting the highest points in the country.

I actually have friends like this, people.

Globe trotting, mountain climbing, cliff repelling crazy people.

And they are *still* willing to hang out with ME. In my basement. Where the closest thing I’ve got to their adventures is Wipeout on the Wii.

I’d like to think that I had some small part in Shan’s affinity for adventure, but I’m not sure that helping her sneak out her bedroom window when we were teenagers actually counts as “repelling”. No, fuck it. I’m counting it.

Anyway. They are most certainly nuts to do some of the things they do. I like that about them. I think I will keep them.

7 Notes

uberdorkgirlie:

For real. She makes me feel like mother of the year. 

uberdorkgirlie:

For real. She makes me feel like mother of the year. 

19105 Notes

kellyoxford:

*DEAD*

kellyoxford:

*DEAD*

1 Notes

Usual Friday morning shit. 03/16/12

Him: What the hell is wrong with your feet!?
Me: Oh that? Those are blisters. Walked a lot during the conference.
Him: Blisters? Shit girl, you got “Swamp Foot”.
Me: (chuckles) Maybe I should get a pedicure.
Him: And a tetanus shot, and some Cipro, and a skin graft, and…
Me: —YEAH, ok. I got it. Look away from the abomination then, Captain Outbreak.

12 Notes

uberdorkgirlie:

Gentle enough for your cooter, strong enough for your hairy pits. 

uberdorkgirlie:

Gentle enough for your cooter, strong enough for your hairy pits. 

20 Notes

uberdorkgirlie:

Fucking Carl

uberdorkgirlie:

Fucking Carl

3 Notes

I often see blog posts & articles encouraging people to move on and look for better career opportunities if they realize that they are smarter than their boss. Of course, I see this most often in the “Be an Internet entrepreneur” focused posts, but it’s pretty pervasive throughout business/career focused websites & publications. So, here’s the thing.

Shut the fuck up already.

Every single person that I employ is smarter than me, and I don’t think that’s any big secret to any of them. (Because they’re so smart, you see.)

I did that shit on purpose, yo. So, get off my lawn.

"This is my team of brilliant minded smart-asses. There are many like it, but this one is mine."

2 Notes

Usual Tuesday night shit. 03.06.12

Me: What a fucking idiot. Look at this… Who the hell puts a random wheelchair on their LANDSCAPING business card?! He’s not even disabled. Does he specialize in lawn care for disabled property owners? Does he do Rascal repairs on the side? This makes no fucking sense. Who would even think to do this? Seriously. Unless you repair fucking wheelchairs, maybe. I mean, what the hell?
Him: *glances at card* That’s not a wheelchair, that’s a ride-on lawn mower.
Me: *snatches card back* Shut. Up. Now I kinda want one.

2 Notes

Usual Sunday type shit. 3/4/12

Him: Were you yelling at me last night?
Me: Yeah. You started making this awful noise, then it sounded like that fucking cpap was going to short out. It was weird. And loud.
Him: Heh. I was dreaming that I had to pretend to be a zombie to escape a pack of walkers. I had to mouth breathe and groan like them.
Me: How’d ya do? Get away?
Him: Dunno. Dream morphed into a giant Medusa-like creature commanding me to “Shut the fuck up and fix your cpap.”
Me: Heh. The zombies wouldn’t have bought it anyway. I guess you could say that *I* saved you from a pack of walkers last night. That’s love, right there.
Him: *rolls eyes, looks back at screen* Right. Thank God you were there.
Me: Anytime, buddy. Anytime. Got any more bacon over there?