Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

A whole heap of things I want to blog about; absolutely no motivation. 

I'm dropping this post here to say I'm still alive and just making some huge adjustments to my life currently. I'm hoping that I can also help my little blog here out in the process.

IMMINENT LIFE CHANGES I AM IN NO WAY PREPARED FOR:

I'm moving back in with my parents in a week. A WEEK. I'm equal parts excited, nervous, and relieved. I'm excited because my family is rad as shit, we have a good time, and I never have to feel the way I do around other people (read: awkward) around them. I'm nervous because I like doing whatever I want to do, whenever I want to do it and I know that is going to take a beating; also I like nighttime shenanigans with menfolk and that will be taking a breather for sure while I'm a resident at Chez Parental Units (side note: I don't understand people who get jiggy in their childhood beds. Ew. So incredibly creepy. My 4 year old self slept in this room, please refrain from getting bodily fluids on it). Most of all, I think I'm relieved. Sure, I feel like a massive fuck-up moving back in with the 'rents after only a few years on my own, but it will feel so good to actually save some money and get out from under the financial crap I've already accrued at the tender age of 22; for that, I can't really thank them enough.

I'm going to be taking more than one class come August for the first time in well over a year. I'm trying not to compare myself to all the people I graduated with who recently graduated college. I like my life and especially myself and I don't like most of those people at all so fuck them I'm doing alright. 

I'm planning on having MUCH more free time since I won't have even the meager excuse for a social life I have now so my first priority after schoolwork will be this blog here. I have so much I want to say and I love it, poor anemic thing that it is; I'll do to it what I've done to my ass and plump it up. 

If you're still occasionally checking here, thanks for being a trooper, I hope to be entertaining soon.

Debacle is an Awesome Word Until You Realize it Describes Your Life

Hey all! I was going to write a post entitled "The Great Car Debacle," but then some shit happened and I could've written "The Great Man Debacle ('great' here meaning big; I obviously am not keeping company with any great men)." Then some MORE shit happened that pushed this into "My LIFE is a Debacle" territory. Let me begin making you feel super awesome about your existence (I'm a giver):

THE GREAT CAR DEBACLE OF 2012

My car is old. This is not news. When I broke down on the side of the interstate outside Ocala back in May, we had to replace the radiator and I had to stay in town overnight; all this to the tune of about $700. When that happened, my dad said "This is the LAST big repair we're doing to this car! *eye twitch*" So, I got back on my merry way almost 24 hours after I had started out. The car was fine all the way home and back. The next day I went to start it and...nothing. Turns out the battery was dead because my tail lights were staying on all the time. That was an easy fix so I was back on the road after only one week of having to disconnect the battery every time I left the vehicle and jump it when I got back. Fast forward one more week and my car won't turn over and is a giant paper weight for 2 weeks before I get it towed to a garage...where they want $500 for a tune-up that will supposedly make the car useful as a car instead of an outside closet with wheels. I pick the car up after the tune-up (at about 3pm; this is important in a minute) and it's driving great. I go home, post the obligatory "yay my car is fixed" facebook status, and decide I should go grocery shopping BECAUSE I CAN. I get 2 blocks from my house and the car is overheating (it is exactly 5pm). I call the guy at the car place and try to get it to them. Doesn't work. They come out to me and say we have to tow it again because I blew the head gasket. It was here I lost my shit and cried about life being unfair and blah blah blah: "EXCUSE ME, MISTER?! I blew the head gasket?? I think not, I drove it for maybe 10 minutes all combined. I invite you to suck my dick." So, then they want to do $500 more worth of work to fix the head gasket. I go to pick it up yesterday and they say "well it was running, but now that you're here, it's magically not. That'll be 5 more days." SO MUCH SAD. The story now though is that they're rebuilding my engine and putting a motor in that only has 90k miles on it, so I guess...yay?

THE GREAT MAN DEBACLE OF 2012 (IN THE STYLE OF BIZ MARKIE)

Ever met a guy that you tried to date, but "I'm not ready for anything serious" he wanted you to take? Let me tell you the story of my situation, I was talking to a dude from the douchebag nation. The way that I met him was drunk at the pool hall, he had pretty eyes and just enough game. I drunk-shouted in his ear "YOU SHOULD GIVE ME YOUR NUMBER, so I can believe men other than Mikes want to see me naked (and also to see if you're hundred proof, obvs)" I asked him his name, all I heard was "not Mike" plus, he had a car and didn't live with his mom. We hung out a few times and he was enthused, recon asked "what's the deal?" He said I am very amused. But when I online dating stalked him, I found another story; all about how he was looking for 'a special somebody.' Come on! I'm not even going for it. You, you're not what I need, cause you say I'm just a friend, and you say I'm just a friend...But if I did these things with my "friends" I'd be the creepiest, whoriest (spell check wants this to be horsiest and I find that hilarious) friend ever. 

THE GREAT KEY DEBACLE OF 2012

 The Pretty One came up last weekend because after the car thing and in light of the man thing I was in desperate need of best friend therapy. You may have heard there was a tropical storm all over my fair state, so it rained all day and night on Sunday. We decided to go out to the pool hall on Sunday night, so we gussied up (I even wore a dress!) and headed there after hitting the Olive Garden for an entire bottle of wine and making people uncomfortable. Before we left I gave The Pretty One my house keys and she put them on her key ring (this is important later). We play some pool, share some beers, have some fun; overall a good night. We head back to my place around 11:30 and it is POURING. When we get there I ask for my keys and we realize THEY AREN'T ON THE KEY CHAIN. So, we go back down to the car; can't find them. Call the bar; dumbest chick there says no one has found any keys. Call a locksmith; fifty bucks to get me in. We decide to retrace our steps (I should point out there were SO many frogs out and I was losing my shit) so we go back to the bar and ask again; she still says they don't have them, we check the table and the bathroom. Find nothing. We drive all the way back across town to Olive Garden (they're closed). At this point, The Pretty One is all pissy blaming herself and shit and I am convinced that I'm having a psychological break. We're both looking like drowned rats already so I start dancing around the Olive Garden parking lot, jumping in puddles and shit. Totes fun. We don't find the keys. Go back to the apartment and call the locksmith, guy comes out (it was the same guy who had to get me into my car last month!), The Pretty One and I are all wild eyes, running mascara and limp hair by this point. So, the guy picks my lock (giggity?) and says "Don't tell anyone I did this for free" We must have been horrifyingly pathetic to behold.  

This post is super long, but I needed to make up for the lack of posting, so I guess you can read one debacle a sitting if you can't make it through. 

Surefire Ways to Spot an Asshole

I've been compiling this quick reference list for some time, because I believe one should always know when they're in the presence of an asshole. If you find yourself talking to someone wondering "Is this person awful?" just consult this list and if any one thing matches up, you've got a dick on your hands (giggity).

This person...

1. is a New York Yankees fan; these people are just the worst and should be avoided at all costs.

2. eats pizza with a knife and fork

3. drives a cream colored car; not white or tan, but cream.

4. wears white sunglasses

5. has a lower back tattoo; this is not about placement, but content. I saw a man at the pool with the word "Mesmerized" tattooed across his lower back. That guy sucks, I guarantee it.

6. won't give their phone number when they check into the hotel; you aren't that important and when you've been waiting 45 minutes for the shuttle and I can't call you to keep you updated  because you were too goddamn special to give your number do NOT yell at me when you get back. Fuck you.

7. says "I'm a very sexual person;" yeah, you like to get laid a lot and whore around. That doesn't mean you're all in touch with your sexuality, it means you're "horny" which is fine, but try not to be so pretentious about it.

8. tells you that "everything happens for a reason" when your life is going to shit. Just...just cunt punt that person, because that is the most BS cop out masquerading as wisdom.

9. identifies as a New England Patriots fan.

There are so many. Assholes are everywhere, but luckily they're usually doing asshole-y things to help you more easily identify them. Feel free to add anymore. Also, do you think this guy is an asshole? or just weird as shit?

His shoes are made of rope and there was no irony in that hat

Sometimes I'm a Perv. Join Me.

So, I've been MIA and I am totes sorry! I'm blaming it on my obsession with A Song of Ice and Fire (the book series that Game of Thrones on HBO comes from just in case you didn't know. Which you better have!) I just finished book 2 and am about to delve into book 3, but I had to come up for air to see if anyone on my corner of the internet is as into this story as I am. I'm dying to dissect and discuss it. I even gave book 1 to my 12 (almost 13!) year old sister to read so I'd have someone to talk about it with. 

When I told my mom I gave it to her and that it is wildly inappropriate (I had to explain incest when I gave it to her to dodge the question later) at worst and questionable (she asked "Is there, like, lots of killing?"(she was pretty stoked about that part)) at best all she had to say was "she'll never read it because it's so long." C'mon, Lindz, prove her wrong! My dad though got all indignant asking WHY I was trying to get her to read an inappropriate book and I answered honestly that it has a myriad of strong female characters and I thought she could use some positive female role models (no matter how fictional). The TV show is of course just retardedly wrong because HBO is like "fuck you guys, we're HBO. We'll put girl on girl action that in no way furthers the plot in here all we want."

Anyway! The point of this post was to play Marry, Boff, Kill with the characters of ASOIF. I'm gonna need to do a few 3 person scenarios (there are a LOT of characters or all I think about while reading intense prose is the bang-ability of these fictional characters...mostly that last part) but I'll try to do them in categories because I'm OCD like that:

	Marry	Boff	Kill
Winterfell	Ned Stark	Theon Greyjoy	Bran Stark
Free Cities	Jorah Mormont	Khal Drogo	Melisandre
Lannisters	Tyrion Lannister	Jaime Lannister	Cersei Lannister
King’s Landing	Sandor Clegane	Bronn	Joffrey Baratheon
Miscellaneous	Arya Stark	Daenerys Targaryen	Lisa Arryn

If you've read the books or watched the show, play the game! I've only read the first 2 books so if someone is going to do something to change their standing on my fancy chart I'm not aware of it yet so no spoilers! I mean, except the people who are already dicks, like Theon. I'm just kinda into that in the right context I suppose. Oh! and the Hound, I think he's not as bad of a guy as he seems...see? I need to trade opinions on this stuff!

Notes From a Judgmental Observer

Dear Short Guy Walking Down 13th Street,

You're probably self conscious about your height, I mean, I am and I've probably got a good 3 or 4 inches on you. You know what you shouldn't do? Wear your 'shorts' to your ankles and your shirt past your ass. You look like you're 6 playing dress-up in big brother's clothes. You aren't Peter Dinklage; you cannot pull off the dwarf thing.

Sincerely,

me

Dear Spanish Speaking Ladies in the Shuttle Van,

Why are you shouting? Are you mocking the English speakers who talk LOUDER and s l o w e r once they learn someone speaks a different language? Because I agree that that is irritating, but I wasn't trying to communicate with you. I was just driving you to the airport and you made my ears ring.

Rude.

Sincerely,

me

Dear People who Spray Perfume in a Full Car,

Fuck you.

Sincerely,

Everyone

Dear Radio Station 103.7,

You guys suck. I know your claim to fame is that you play coverage of all Gator sporting events, but interrupting the Sunday countdown right when they're about to play the number one song is a dick move. Everyone could have missed the first 4 minutes of sports casters talking about college baseball. Everyone knows college sports are inferior. Stop being douches.

Sincerely,

me and the other 10 people in the whole world who enjoy the Sunday morning countdowns

As an added bonus, in case you aren't living life to the fullest, a picture of Peter Dinklage (I love him, go watch him in Game of Thrones and Nip/Tuck):

Totes pulling it off; take notes guy on 13th street.

I'm Gonna Write About Christmas Now That it's Easter, I'm Kind of a Hipster That Way

Forever and a day ago, before everyone stopped checking here because I never post, I told you about present opening protocol; at least that it existed. Well, today you're going to learn what the rules actually are, so that I'll have evidence for when later this year my whole family decides to act like a bunch of assholes during present opening. The guidelines are fairly simple and very rigid. The only person who should have trouble with this is me since I am stuck in the limbo between "kid" and "grown up" and yet I'm the only one who can handle it. 

Through the use of diagrams and my descriptive skill I will now paint a you a picture of the peaceful, fair Christmas I yearn for (when I was an only child, this was far easier).

First thing you need to know, the living room at my parents' house looks like this on Christmas Eve:

I know it's huge, it was either REALLY big or REALLY small (giggity). So, we're dealing with that room and a bunch of loud ass people all yelling and trying to get situated. Once everyone gets an ass in a seat, they inevitably turn to me and tell me to begin bossing everyone around. This would be great except that 10 seconds later I'm getting mocked and the little(er) kids are getting told to just open gifts. This would be fine except if you've ever told a young child/tween to "just do (something)" you know that they just gape open mouthed like you just spoke Mandarin Chinese instead of telling them to unwrap a bunch of free shit.

That's why my rules go like this:

1. The children hand the adults their gifts from them.

2. Once all the adults have all their gifts, each person opens one per circuit ONE AT A TIME. (this is the part that my family just cannot fucking handle) I spend a lot of time considering, purchasing, and wrapping gifts for every member of my family, I want to see their reaction god dammit! 

3. After we've completed sufficient circuits so that all the adults' presents are unwrapped, then the chillins get to go. ONE AT A TIME alternating between them so that everyone gets proper acknowledgement and so they can actually absorb what it is they've received instead of just moving onto the next like greedy little hooligans. 

BTW, circuits go like this:

[editor's note: MS Paint is hard.]

I simply cannot handle a world in which everyone just rips the wrapping off of every gift in 8.3 seconds, not even knowing what they got or who gave it them; that is not a world in which I will ever live. If you aren't patient enough for the system, I guess you don't get presents; sucks to suck.

I'm Not Dead, but it Was Touch and Go There For a While

*insert generic apology about not posting here*

Now that we're over that, let's talk about the time I legitimately thought I was driving into the den of a killer. 

Let me open with a fact about me: I am careful about everyone's safety in social settings; I am usually the DD and I rant like an old woman about how motorcycles are death traps, so why I agreed to do what I did is beyond me. Anyway, what happened was:

I was invited to hang out at the house of a guy I know. I had never been there before and I, frankly, didn't know him that well. I said sure because my life is sad and I didn't want to spend another night watching the same episodes of The League and trying not to look around and notice how gross my room is right meow. He lives out in Melrose, about 30 miles from where I'm at. I didn't get off work until 11. While at work, I loved this plan and I was 100% sure I was not going to be killed (keep track of that percentage, it'll change as we go on)

I went home, took a shower, googled how to get there, and set out upon my adventure. The drive out there was pleasant for the first part where I was seeing lots of deer on the sides of the road; I was overly excited, especially considering my thoughts went something like "AWW DEER! I bet gramps would like to shoot them." Then, I noticed there were no other cars on the road and I was in the middle of fucking nowhere; percentage of certainty that I'm not going to be murdered: 80%

So, I drive along like a happy (and only marginally nervous) little bumble bee until I see the Kangaroo gas station where I thought I was meeting said guy so I could follow him back into BFE to his home. I inform him I have arrived and go inside to get some coffee. The dude behind the counter looked like that inbred monstrosity from Harold and Kumar; I heard banjos. Percentage of certainty that I'm not going to be murdered: 75%

I am informed that I went to the wrong gas station (probably because that one was well lit and there were witnesses). So I continued another 5 miles or so up to the "right" gas station...which was closed...as in boarded up. There's a single car sitting in the parking lot. Percentage of certainty that I'm not going to be murdered: 50%

We proceed down the road, me following behind. Now might be a good time to mention that there were no streetlights, like, at all. So we make a left off the hard road. This is a legit dirt road and I'm now humming along with the happiest shit I have on my phone to keep the panic at bay. Percentage of certainty that I'm not going to be murdered: 20%

As I scoot along the road is crazy bumpy (I drive a Honda Civic (hey! a palindrome!) and just in case you know less about cars than me (impossible!) those aren't made for off-roading. So, I'm bouncing along and it feels like I'm on this dirt road forever and the deeper I get into this wooded bullshit the closer the trees get and the narrower the road gets. I'm hyperventilating and trying to get right with the universe. Percentage of certainty that I'm not going to be murdered: Fuck that, I am going to die.

Here's the twist ending: I'm not dead! And he's not a murderer(probably)! I know yous guys were worried, but feel free to celebrate because I did make it out alive and have since been there in the daytime and it is not far off the road; in fact (if there were fucking street lights) you can see the main road from the dirt road in places. So, yeah, I thought I was a goner, but I'm also a dumb bitch sometimes.

I need to tell y'all about Crazy Bananas Mike ASAP. Bitch has lost his shit.