Embrace the Rage


I have a mother-fucking eye twitch and I’m trapped in one of the world’s most annoying damn classe and it may be time to RANT.
Let’s say you are taking a class about how to drink water.  It happens to be something you do everyday, but because it is required you go to the class with the expectation of learning something useful.  The first day of class you learn where water can usually be found,  maybe spend some time talking about juice (?!) and then they hint that eventually you might see someone drinking water. Disappointing, but you go home with hope for tomorrow.
The next day you get to spend some time watching your instructor lay on the floor while another instructor pours the water into her mouth, spilling over 80%….da fuck? I could explain how to drink water more efficiently than that!  Then we get a couple guest speakers who explain that at their companies everyone drinks water everyday successfully….. That’s great,  but I want to learn HOW to drink the water!
The third day,  we end up talking about juice again,  but this time we have to write down how we would make wine out of juice….and suddenly I can’t stop my fucking eye from twitching. 
This is insane. 

boobular alignment


For every horrifying tragedy in this world there are approximately fitty-bajillion (my estimate; and quite obviously not in any way scientific) minor annoyances which are just, well, annoying. Those annoyances are not worthy of great thought or even rectification; so please enjoy my whine about a completely trivial matter:

This may be something only I deal with–but I doubt it. I wear a lot of sports bras, not because I enjoy the uni-boob appearance but because they are inexpensive, easily washed and dried, and for the most part tend to hold my rascally boobs in one location. In the morning after I grouchily drag myself out of bed I will put on whatever clothing I managed to cobble together out of the drier, off the floor, and on a few memorable occasions–off of the lawn (damn dogs!). After throwing on these ensembles of perfection I often fail to look in the mirror before I go. Today was one of those days. While in the bathroom at work I looked at myself for the first time today and thought, “hey there, hotstuff–not too sha…..DAMN.”  My nipples were misaligned. I am not talking about a standard nipple alignment failure such as:



when the above happens I laugh and picture a muppet character before shaking the girls into a better look. 

No, today’s horror in a shirt looked more like a stoned chameleon or a mutated walleye. Or, ya know, more like this:


Yikes! It was rather horrifying, even to me.

How did I not notice my boobs were trapped in a disturbing position? No clue.

Just glad I was able to wrangle those wiley suckers back into alignment before too many people saw me.

Happy to report we are looking something like this for the rest of the day:



although, you know….not all two dimensional and awkwardly drawn in Paint on my computer n stuff. 

Have a wonderful (mostly aligned) day!





There is a large amount of stupid in this world. We all know this, but as I lay here staring at a big white page where my blog post is supposed to go while my left hip throbs and I am forced to listen to the dreadful hold music provided by the American Airlines which is intermittently interrupted by a very nice woman apologizing profusely before putting me back on hold. I don’t know which is worse–the music or the poor lady repeatedly apologizing. The hip you ask? ah yes…despite everyone in my life believing my injured hip is a Fancy Sex Injury it is, in fact, a stupid Holy Shit I Am So Out Of Shape I Bent Over Sideways To Pick Up A Ball OW OW Fuck My Life I’m So Old I Broke Myself In A Stupid Way injury. I kind of wish it was a Fancy Sex Injury, at least it would be a better story; maybe something involving rigging…..anyway, sorry, kinda got lost there but then I moved and OW! I remembered I am apparently too broken to play fucking fetch with my dog let alone be adventurous without some form of stretching before hand.

Holy Crap; I’m off hold! Time to pay for a work flight change which will make my boss ever so grumpy.


Well, that’s different.


So I’ve been living alone for years. I think it was a damn good thing for me to have had that time where I didn’t have anyone to really fall back on. Don’t get me wrong, there were literally times I thought I was going to die (dengue, diabetes complications, etc.) but I learned so much about how resilient and capable I can be.
So, I’m not alone anymore and despite Herbert (service dog) having some issues (HOW DARE YOU KISS FoodLady’s HEAD INTERLOPER! I KILL YOU!) settling in, it feels wonderful. We fit. I don’t believe I understood before now how loving someone was not enough to live with someone; you have to work with each other and not around each other. I had never experienced the difference and holy crap, what a difference! I am not used to having help and help is a good thing.   Yesterday I reveived the unwelcome news that someone I used to work with had passed away. My initial reaction was to bury the pain because I “have company”. Thankfully my partner/love knew better and didn’t let me bury it. Instead, he kept me company on the bed while we listened to an audio book about zombies (he.HATES.zombies) and let me deal with the sads in my own way. He keeps reminding me that he is home by doing stuff around the house (dishes, laundry) and I am learning to let him help.
So, this is a weird new chapter in my life, but thus far it is wonderful and satisfying one.
Wish me luck. ;-)

Dear A.D.D., please stop. kthanksbye!


Today is a wee bit a tough one on me. Nothing bad is happening, actually just the opposite I am in a rather stellar mood today. I was just sort of cleaning up around my office and my brain, which was going about 300,000 miles per hour, kicked out a thought that stopped me in my tracks and caused me to laugh uproariously all by myself. If I was typing this the way I was thinking at the time it would have no spaces and be in all caps–but WRITINGLIKETHISISBULLSHIT and horrid to read so I won’t do that to y’all. But keep in mind as you read this completely inane story that it would probably be funnier if you read it really loudly and obnoxiously fast.

15:17 – V made cucumber lemon orange water which was super good yesterday but today holy crap is it bitter today it tastes pithy hey remember that time in Kentucky when that guy thought you said pissy and then we all laughed and laughed and that fried squash was really good there but so was the iced tea huh there is a Herbert hair in my cucumber lemon orange water oh well I guess I will drink around it nope this stuff is hooooodoggie bitter I shall stop drinking this now I wish I had a diet coke or some of that iced tea from that place in Kentucky with the really good fried squash when we worked on that historic post office that totally had a peeping room attached to the women’s restroom but it was historic and built into the actual building which made it way more interesting than creepy I wonder why that is I’m really glad dogs don’t have pubes…………………………………………………*brain stalls*

*brain attempts reboot*

15:18 – I’m. really. glad. dogs. don’t. have. pubes. Really H!? Seriously?! I mean, I AM quite happy that dogs don’t have obviously distinct curlier areas of pubic hair because that would be extra disturbing and extremely awkward to see…although it probably wouldn’t be because it would always have looked that way GET OUT OF MY HEAD DEMON A.D.D.!!! So, yeah. It’s been that kind of day. I figured it out though…I mean, there was a hair in my water and fitty-eleven thoughts later I was extremely happy that it was a not dog pubic hair in my water….but what if it was? At least I will never know.

And with that ladies and gents….I shall get back to my regularly scheduled thought process. Kisses! -H.

Welcome to the world’s most boring blog post


I have a solid 20 posts in draft, but I feel stuck in every single one. So, instead of hilarious anecdotes of visiting my family or even random fantasies instead you get this:

So, growing up I never ate peanut butter and jelly.  I had peanut butter on toast and I had jelly on toast but it was not considered normal to put the two together. I tried it in college and I rated it a solid “meh”. I finally found my favorite version of that sandwich (I told you–boring).
I had it last night and again for dinner just now. A toasted whole wheat bagel smeared on one half with Peter Pan peanut butter and the other half smeared with smuckers cherry preserves.  Then I alternate bites from each half. Holy crap is that good and holy crap was that *the* most boring information I have ever put out into this world.
I am incredibly sorry.
Love y’all,

Snoring. Or Vacation Days 1 & 2…


Why? Why is there snoring?  Why?! In what way was sleeping loudly an evolutionary advantage? Wouldn’t you have thought all the snoring genes would have been eaten back when we were hunter/gatherer types? 
And how is it I can happily sleep next to a dog snoring but a human snoring next to me fills me with annoyance and wakefulness. 
I just….I just don’t get it. 
So. Since I’m awake anyway I feel as if I should share my vacation updates. Nothing too exciting. Slept through Sunday with lots of snuggling. It was so freaking cold. Then, monday I spent time with my sister and great niece and then visited my mom & stepdad. It’s still freaking cold.
Okay. May need to poke the snorer to get him flipped over.
I am so tired.
Wish me luck.

Puppy Crack Recipe


So, the original recipe for puppy crack called for liver, unfortunately the smell of boiling liver makes me vomit in the sink. So, if you want to use liver, by all means go right ahead, but I am sticking to hearts.
1. Go to store, buy beef hearts (or livers)
2. throw into large pot of boiling water. 
3. boil for an hour or so, don’t let them boil over cause you will have a nasty scummy mess to clean up.
4. After they’ve boiled take them out of water and let them cool. Cut or chop them into teeny tiny training pieces.
5. Place them on parchment paper or aluminium foil on top of a baking pan (no mess) and place them into a 125 degree F oven for 2 hours or until they are crunchy knobby little things.
6. Begin singing puppy crack song which is basically the smelly cat song from Friends except instead of smelly cat you sing puppy crack.
7. Watch dogs follow your every move.

Hyperfocused MacGuyvering Causes Wounds


I now work at a job where I have more time off than I have ever had before at any job in my life.
It is freaking weird.
Everytime I submit for time off I get in trouble because I keep asking for 8 hours a day off per day and, oddly, I am only supposed to be working for 7 hours per day. Did I mention I get to travel to Ohio for 3 weeks because the place I work freaking closes for 3 weeks? And I still get paid. It is pure insanity to me; now you would think I would have noticed this last year but I had dengue fever, so I sort of missed the 2012/13 holiday season. Almost missed out on living due to that nasty virus. I loathe mosquitos. Anywhoodle, now I have all of this time…but I have absolutely no money. Everytime I think I am getting ahead, something stupid happens like my internet getting turned off because the credit card they had on file expired 4 months ago and now I owe them $200.00 which I don’t have. I paid them $100 and they gave me 5 more days to come up with the rest. So, on Monday I shall call them and beg them to wait until my Thursday paycheck before cutting off the interwebs. I swear, there *is* a point to this post; at least as much of a point as any of my random, oft inane, ramblings.
Today my attention deficit disorder allowed me to hyperfocus on preparing for my visit to Ohio. It all started with my most dangerous of all thoughts, “I wonder…”. In this case the thought was, “I wonder if it would make more sense to purchase shampoo/conditioner/random other toiletries to ship to Ohio so I have less to pack.” Turns out this was a great idea and I will be doing it. But along the way I came across something I *wanted*. I didn’t (don’t) *need* it; but I wanted it. They sell fancy little magnetic compacts that allow you to “de-pot” your makeup and streamline what you actually use. I hate having a crap ton of little compacts because one of my favorite colors or something is stuck in there along with 5 or 6 I didn’t love as much. And off I went…disemboweling makeup cases, finding a cd case to use as a container, then finding a better disemboweled compact to use for the stuff I really liked. I didn’t have any fancy magnetic paint or even magnetic sheeting; but I did have half a gluestick in a hot glue gun, a stick to poke the glue stick through, isopropyl alcohol, a hair straightener, and, obviously, tools.
I am less than proud to say that I didn’t do any of these things safely, intelligently, or even logically. Somehow I impaled my foot on an unknown something, sliced my index finger open while depotting (think slow ripping metal papercut), and received a couple few little burns here and there from grabbing hot little metal pots from the unstable surface of a hair straightening iron placed on a pillow.
I mixed and melted 2 foundations together to make the perfect color, melted small amounts of my 2 favorite lipsticks, mixed loose face powder, blush, and eye shadows with alcohol and made a little pots of pressed powder for various parts of my face. I glued all those little pots of my favorites into a previously disemboweled compact and glued all of the other de-compacted pots into a cd case along with a mirror.
All in all, although it was a totally hyperfocused illogical project that took me way too much time and caused me way too many injuries, I think I did pretty well and made myself a great travel compact.

Starting from the left we have 6 eye shadows, 2 lipsticks, a blush, face powder, and concealer/foundation. All things considered I can create every look I could ever want with what is in this sucker.
I’m quite pleased.
So, being poor makes me creative n’ shit. That said, it also makes me wounded and completely distracted from all of the stuff that I should probably be doing instead of this.