Four. F.ing. Weeks.

Since my last blog entry.

This is not me. It might be LA.

Ms. LA Juice, herself, mentioned me in her blog.  In a super-positive way.  Like she thinks I'm fabulous which MAKES ME LOVE HER EVEN MORE BECAUSE SHE, OBVIOUSLY, IS AS BRILLIANT AS SHE SEEMS.  Who doesn't love brilliance?  And the feeding of our own grandiose egos?  And bitches who totally know their shit when it comes to earthquakes? 

This is what happens when I don't get around to catching up on blogs for a month.  I miss important shit like being mentioned in a badass blog. 


I had a *strong* margarita at dinner so every time I tried to type "love her" it came out "lover her."  I don't know if my latent lesbianism comes out when I have tequila, or if it's just bad typing skills. Possibly, the degenerating typing skills cause the typos and the latent lesbianism causes me to only catch that particular typo after my fifteenth proof-read while I catch all of the rest of them on the first read through.  Me and Jose Cuervo, Freudin' it up.

P.S.
Linux does not think that badass is one word.  F.ck you, Linux.  Stop red squigglying my shit.  And stop red squigglying "squigglying."  Dammit. This is like arguing with a f.ing 4 year old.

               Tequila and Cupcakes. Yum.

P.P.S
While I was searching for a picture of a margarita I came across this photo of a margarita flavored cupcake.  Now I'm craving cupcakes.

Caution: Dumbass in Training

Hello friends (assuming anyone still checks this page).  I've been busy, partially because I started a new job last week.  I like the people (well, most of them) and it seems like a good company... so far so good.  I'm remaining cautiously optimistic for the time being.

Biggest Pro:  commute is 1hr 10 minutes less EACH WAY. 
Biggest Con:  It's a different industry than I worked in before, so I have a lot to learn.  

My internal dialogue usually breaks down like this:
8am:  Its a fresh day!  Today I will knock their socks off with my brilliance.
8:30am:  Okay, time for our productivity meeting.  Try not to look clueless.
10am:  Is it lunch time yet?  I know I can do that without looking clueless.
12pm:  TYJ, it's finally lunch time.  One whole hour of not looking clueless.
2pm:  OMG.  Did I just ask the same f*ing question I asked this morning?  They must think I'm clueless.
3pm:  I'm so clueless.
4pm:  I'm so f*ing clueless.
4:45pm:  Do I even remember how to get home?
5pm:  Do I even remember how to unlock my car door?   F*ck... WHERE THE F*CK ARE MY KEYS?!!!! 

Script Drug high

   
This morning I accidentally took my anxiety medicine (I normally only take it at night to help me sleep).  Now I'm at my desk feeling all loopy and just generally don't give a f*ck about anything.  It's good because I'm much less high-strung than usual, but it's bad because I have A LOT to do and can't afford to work at this lackadaisical pace.  But I feel fan*fucking*tastic.  Except when I stop to look at my hands because they feel funny.  I'm pretty sure I'm on a legal high right now.  I'm going to ask her if I can take a low dose of this stuff in the mornings from now on.  

I'm pretty sure everyone else would appreciate my being less high-strung as much as I would enjoy feeling mildly euphoric.

WHEEEEEEE!!!

Monday's Deep Thoughts From Amanda Handy



Happy Is-It-Really-Only- Monday?!

Amanda the SUB

Y and Z

Good bye, all but forgotten A to Z challenge.  I started with such high hopes and determination.  Then... life... well... shit just happened.  Some of it good, some of it bad, and some of it is a WIP.  But the end result is that my new little bloggling has suffered like the plants on my porch.  The ones that I bought because I was going to plant them and have a beautiful flower bed.  But then I didn't have time.  Then it rained.  Then I realized that I don't have one of those little shovels that you use to dig up small holes for little plants.  And now the little plantlings are hanging on to dear life by a thread.  And the only reason the thread is still there is because my saint of a husband remembers to water them in their sad little plastic containers.  I, meanwhile, only remember they are there when someone comes to the door (I usually enter through the garage).  So, yeah, I suck at the whole "follow-through" concept.  But I will catch up soon.  Not with the A to Z, that ship has (obviously) sailed, but with blogging regularly.

On the bright side, we have two new dogs.  We already had 2 little ankle biters, but 2 lost dogs found their way to us last week.  Less free time, but more happiness.  Who doesn't love an animal that wags it's tail EVERY TIME it sees you?

Happy Tuesday!

Galveston County Fair: Subtitled- J, K, L, and M... They're All In Here Somewhere (probably)

VIP Pork Entrance
The sign says "Swine Loading
and Unloading Area"

This weekend we went down to the Galveston County Fair.  That sounds like the opening line of a John Michael Montgomery song, but it's not.  It's my life, ya'll.

I haven't been to a real fair since I was a kid, and even then we mostly just looked at the cows and horses, rode the carnival rides, and ate mass quantities of cotton candy.  I missed out on all the behind-the-scenes action, which was a massive error in judgement on the part of my parents.  This sh*t is fascinating, ya'll.


Things I learned at the fair:

Jennifer: Ugh, we have no
privacy anymore.  I wish the
papparazzi would leave us alone
Lindsay:  Behold, my cootchie!
Cookie Monster:  Nom Nom Nom

Fairs have chicken shows and turkey shows and rabbit shows and pig shows and who-knows-what-else shows.  Not like a donkey show.  Like a dog show.  What I would really like to see is a peacock show, but they don't have those so I settled for the turkey show.

There are people who take special classes to be a judge in a turkey show.  In college.  They seriously have college classes for poultry judging.  And they like to go on little judging power trips.  At the end of judging, when they announce the winners, they say things like "I had a hard time deciding on first and second place because one had more width and one was more tapered.  In the end I decided that the one that is wider wins."

It's all school aged kids that participate in this and it's difficult for them to hold the turkeys up for extended periods of time during judging.  So they have someone stand behind them to help them out, or hold the turkey for them (usually a parent).  I would love to be able to put "4-H Turkey Show Spotter" on my resume to show my diversity.

When pigs are born they put notches in their ears as a means of identification.  The location and quantity of notches in each location on the ear means something.  Like Roman Numerals for pig ears.

At a fair, don't be fooled by the term "Super Nachos."  These are not super sized or covered in extra ingredients like meat or tomatoes.  They are stale chips covered in canned cheese and chili.  Like they asked the ball park for their left-overs and served them at the fair for $4 a tiny basket.  Super Old?  Super Lame?


Things that happened to me at the fair:

Me and my buddy Peter.  Before the
infamous bird incident.

I got sh*t on by a bird.  For Real.  And the bathrooms were under maintenance and these two gentlemen were standing guard so that no one could sneak in, but they were kind enough to let me go into the little make-shift kitchen to the side.  Only there was no mirror so I had to text Eric to come help me clean it out.  OF MY HAIR.  Since I hadn't told him about the bird sh*t (I stealthily snuck off to take care of it myself so as to avoid ridicule) the text I sent that just said "I need help" followed by "in the kitchen next to the bathrooms" had him alarmed.  They walked in and (God Bless Eric for holding in his laughter) our friends just started laughing and attempting to take pictures, but the kitchen was so small that I was able to reach over and block the camera.  For the rest of the day (between bursts of laughter) they told me repeatedly that being shat upon by a bird is good luck.  Which I'm pretty sure is just something people say to the person who has been shat upon to soften the blow of the incessant laughter and bad jokes about bird sh*t and sh*t happens and having a sh*tty day, etc.


The Turkey Show winner happened to be someone we know, so I was totally woo-hooing for her.  Add "Excited About A Turkey That I'm Not Going To Eat" to the "List of Things I Never Imagined But Have Now Experienced."

I was invited to a "Turkey and Chicken Killin' Party."  This is a real thing and I am totally going.  The turkeys and chickens are killed to be eaten; it's not some sort of cult ritual.  I think.  They weren't looking at me with cannibalistic lust in their eyes so I think I'm safe.


I witnessed a guy in an Expedition drive into an area full of people (which no one is supposed to drive into, except employees on golf carts), get out, FINISH OFF HIS BEER, throw it into the trash can, then proceed to unload his show stuff.  Which I'm pretty sure was supposed to be done that morning, before there were hundreds of people milling around.  And (hopefully) before he started drinking beer.  Oh, and did I mention that a sheriff on a golf cart drove by and didn't say anything?  Because yeah, that totally happened, too.

I failed to get a decent picture of the
cute little piggies

We watched pig races.  CUTE LITTLE PIGGIES RACING.  They were freaking adorable and were enticed to run by following an Oreo.  And then a teeny pig swam across a small pool of water.  I was in Hog Heaven.  Except that during this race is when I was sh*t on by the bird.  Who is possibly anti-pig racing and was making a statement about people who support the pig racing industry.

And that concludes today's installment of "OMG, I HAVE TO BLOG ABOUT THIS."


Happy Monday

Amanda the SUB

H and I are for Hella slammed I am

Lame title, and letter/word association, I know.  But Gawd Almighty, it's been a hectic week.  Which means I'm slacking on replying to comments (SO FREAKING SORRY)  and reading others' blogs (DOUBLE FREAKING SORRY).  So, I'm sucking hard at the blogging thing right now.  :(

On the bright side, the title sounds a little like it belongs in a Seusse book.  Sam I am, I do not like Green Eggs and Ham!



Happy Hump Day (See how I managed to work in two more H words?  Sucking a little less now)

Amanda the SUB

F and G are for F*ing Gnomes

I don't have a problem with gnomes.  And, as far as I know, they don't have a problem with me, either.  But I was busy and didn't have time to do my Saturday blog.  And I've been busy today so I'm late on today's.  

F*ing was an easy word to come up with.  Figuring out G took me about 3 minutes, then I landed on gnomes.  Basically, today's blog, which should be 2 day's worth of blog, is utter nonsense.

BTW, don't judge.  Let the gnome smoke his harmless little cigarette in peace.  

That is a cigarette, right? 

Today's nonsense brought to you by:  F*ing Gnomes 

*I'm not getting paid for this (as if you may have thought that I did) and no gnomes were harmed in the research for this blog (as if you thought any was done).