Oh My Ever Loving Bacon God

There are some days where you wake up thinking, “Why the hell did I let my friend’s baby feed me hand fulls of crushed pasta last night?”

And when you try to sit up, the pounding in your head would then remind you of the half bottle of wine you drank.  Leading, one would assume, to the lack of judgment that allowed a giggling baby to shove gluten laden pastina into your mouth hand over fist.

You of course would spend the whole morning:

1. wondering why you even came into work
2. glaring at your LSAT prep book
3. dreaming of incinerating your LSAT prep book
4. wanting to know when the hell you signed up for homework BEFORE you even took the test to MAYBE get into a schooling program (that the mere thought of makes your soul whimper)
5. what hiccup in your hog tied biological clock made you go all gooey over baby smiles enough to eat saidbaby drool coated blegh (ok, going to throw up now)
6. Why the world thinks that monsoon season is a good look for the east coast

And then your day will look up.

Because there is bacon in the kitchen.

5 pounds of cooked bacon.

Well… Maybe 3.  (Now.)

Really Bad…

Q: When in the Sea of Japan, what do Gunnery Sergeants on Japanese Battle Cruisers say?

StiCky Notes

It is not very nice to laugh at the members of your immediate family who don’t understand why the following is funny:

“The Doctor gave me SOMA as a muscle relaxer.”

Those to ignorant to read, rarely react to ridicule without decking someone.

And that tends to ruin Christmas.

Ack! Holy Shit, I have a blog!

Wow. Kinda forgot about you there. Sorry about that. I’ve been a little out of it, what with being a gimp, and being transferred to the ‘lackey’ position at work (I’m told it’s temporary… yeah…) and all the incessant candle making. Fun times, people. Watching Wax dry is a bit more fun than paint… but not by much.

So? Did you all make out like bandits this year? I DID! Hahahahahaha. I got a toothbrush and a vacuum , and a humidifier, and a CD and tons of books about Anim—-als. Animals. –Whew– and a homemade candle display, and assorted other goodies. Sadly, I think I only attempted to jump up and down over the vacuum. (And you would too, if your current vacuum had all the sucking capability of… uhm… something that doesn’t suck very well.)

But back to more important things–like making fun of me–I injured myself at work. Now this could be common place, or even natural if I A) worked on scaffolding-though I’d probably get arrested for spitting on people before I had the grace to fall off, B) worked with power tools–other than the industrial hole punch machine in the copy center, C) was a professional athlete – of anything other than smoking cigarettes and drinking cheap beer and expensive wine, or D) did anything other than cart myself around an office all day. Well, I was coming out of the elevator (I’ll leave that one for you, C.S., and happy Christmas) onto the secure floor of our facility, my arms full of that day’s newspapers, when I noticed that not only was the secure door to the floor open, but that no alarm was going off. (In case you were wondering, this is a VERY BIG FEDERAL NO-NO.) Too bad I didn’t notice that the elevator had opened about 6 inches lower than it should of, leaving a ledge tailor made for klutzes like me. I stepped right onto said ledge, twisted my ankle, threw the newspapers up in the air, tore something in my knee trying to compensate, then gave up on that whole ‘balance’ bullshit that you all seem to be so good at keeping, and proceeded to face plant, while newspapers floated down around me. Very slapstick, and smooth like budd-ah, if I do say so myself.

So, now I’m sitting in my messy apartment (I can’t clean, I’m injured!) waiting for the fridge to grow food, and hoping that FiOS messes up and gives me the movie channels for free as a late Christmas present.

I think I might be here a while folks.

the bitching commences

Yeah… I know that I haven’t been here for a while.  I’m sure you cried.  I’m sure you cried and pulled your hair and sobbed and scratched your faces trying to release the agony of you being lost without me.

Now get over it. I’m fine.  Thanks for asking.

I’ve been a bit busy.  Trying to get enough candles together to sell… buying everything under the sun (as apparently you need it all for making candles)… going to a movie with some friends… selling myself so that I can afford more damn beeswax…  crying over the fact that someone else is quicker on the uptake than I, to have stumbled upon the greatest name for a candle company ever (I cried Kat, I really really cried)…  another couple of movies in there somewhere… selling myself again, because I didn’t think it was supposed to be that much fun… getting ever more pissed off at the drama queen I have to work with… trying to understand the reasoning behind cursing at your superiors (and yeah, it’s still a dumb ass idea in my book, unless you’re trying to get fired, and then you’re a genius)… reading online comics… and dog sitting.

There.  My life in a nutshell.  Oh, and if you’re ever around the 14th street bridge, and you hear “tutti hanno il suo prezzo, ma il do sconti!” just keep driving.  I don’t want you to know what I look like.

Now tell me what you want for christmahaunakwanza or whatever wonderbread-esq, non-offensive or offensive (we’re equal oppertunity here at the M&P) religion you practive that has a holliday coming up.

I’m tired of asking.

Makes ya wonder…

They are advertising PlanB on Pandora at the moment.

It seems to go lovely with Send me an Angel by Dirty on Purpose.

And the name is….

Berkshire Candles.

Or

Lexington Candles.

Thanks everyone who played!  Now onto bigger and better things.

Tomorrow.

Today, I’m too lazy.

-Gnugs

For the Bomber of all things Poo

Apparently we don’t post enough.  No, I am not speaking of myself in the third person.  Again.  I am merely reiterating what the god of loquacious quackery has deemed an important announcement.  And, Ladies and Gentleman*, if he spake it, it be so.  So, without further ado…

“One time I was sleeping and I awoke to find…”

…that my parents thought is would be sweet to get me a kitten, and place it on my bed as I slept.  Only they didn’t take into account that having never had an animal in the house, I would probably not react well to something rather heavy, harry, and with razor like claws climbing up my leg as I slept.

Needless to say, after his run in with the hallway wall across from my bedroom door, Cesar never tried to cop a feel in the middle of the night ever again.

the end.

*I’m sure there’s at least one out there… somewhere.

hahahahahaha

I can’t help it, this is AWESOME.

Thanks!

Thank you all, for all the wonderful ideas for the name of my candle company.  I’ll let you know the final results at the last possible minute (approximately 2 seconds before I have my labels printed.)

oh, and apparently I work for a company that doesn’t like veterans.

Just sayin’.