1. I got an OPI Axxium gel manicure at Nails by Nicole on poplar last Wednesday. My nails still look perfect. New obsession.
2. I am wearing fake eyelashes right now. Another new obsession.
3. I really like ketchup.
4. My life is so boring right now. I am blaming it on the weather. I'm going through a nesting period. What that means for me? I cook a little. I crochet a little. I play angry birds. A lot.
5. I'm finally learning how to tell time on a real watch. No more digital for me. Only about 20 years after most people...
6. The more I have to do the more I procrastinate.
7. I lose lightbulbs and socks with astounding frequency.
8. I'm going to Smashville for New Years Eve. I'm hoping to not lose my phone. I've already given up on losing my morals and dignity. It comes with the territory of excessive drinking.
9. I work with some of the most insane people ever. They really make me fucking laugh sometimes. Sometimes I hate them.
10. You need to read this girl's blog. Click here. She is funnier than I am. Given how highly I think of myself {and my humor} that's saying a lot.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Friday, December 17, 2010
Shannon learns to bake, lesson 1 - the recipes
Alton Brown's Sugar Cookies
Ingredients
- 3 cups all-purpose flour
- 3/4 teaspoon baking powder
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1 cup unsalted butter, softened
- 1 cup sugar
- 1 egg, beaten
- 1 tablespoon milk
- Powdered sugar, for rolling out dough
Directions
Sift together flour, baking powder, and salt. Set aside. Place butter and sugar in large bowl of electric stand mixer and beat until light in color. Add egg and milk and beat to combine. Put mixer on low speed, gradually add flour, and beat until mixture pulls away from the side of the bowl. Divide the dough in half, wrap in waxed paper, and refrigerate for 2 hours.
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
Sprinkle surface where you will roll out dough with powdered sugar. Remove 1 wrapped pack of dough from refrigerator at a time, sprinkle rolling pin with powdered sugar, and roll out dough to 1/4-inch thick. Move the dough around and check underneath frequently to make sure it is not sticking. If dough has warmed during rolling, place cold cookie sheet on top for 10 minutes to chill. Cut into desired shape, place at least 1-inch apart on greased baking sheet, parchment, or silicone baking mat, and bake for 7 to 9 minutes or until cookies are just beginning to turn brown around the edges, rotating cookie sheet halfway through baking time. Let sit on baking sheet for 2 minutes after removal from oven and then move to complete cooling on wire rack. Serve as is or ice as desired. Store in airtight container for up to one week
{Note: I have no idea what it means when the mixture is supposed to pull away from the side of the bowl. Mine may have done that? I dooon't know.}
Royal Icing
Ingredients
- 3 ounces pasteurized egg whites
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 4 cups confectioners' sugar
Directions
In large bowl of stand mixer combine the egg whites and vanilla and beat until frothy. Add confectioners' sugar gradually and mix on low speed until sugar is incorporated and mixture is shiny. Turn speed up to high and beat until mixture forms stiff, glossy peaks. This should take approximately 5 to 7 minutes. Add food coloring, if desired. For immediate use, transfer icing to pastry bag or heavy duty storage bag and pipe as desired. If using storage bag, clip corner. Store in airtight container in refrigerator for up to 3 days
{Note: Who in the fuck knows what 3 ounces of egg whites looks like? Not this girl. I googled a few more recipes and most of them said 4 egg whites. And I probably had the best time ever doing this part. Egg whites are fun.}
Shannon learns to bake, lesson 1 - the photos
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The list. Naturally I forgot something. The rolling pin. |
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So many choices. |
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Even MORE choices |
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Dear baking powder, where ARRRRRE you? |
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Oh, hidden on the top shelf. That's cool. |
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| The shiz |
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| Doesn't it just look cute and Amish? |
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| Sifted shiz |
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| My new power tool |
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| Dough balls. |
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| Royal Icing |
Oh, baking. You are a messy hobby. My kitchen is a disaster thanks to my ridiculous mixer. I have about 30 more minutes until I can start baking some cookies. The whole waiting 2 hours for the dough to chill is boring. Slash I don't know why I have to put it in the fridge.
dun dun duuuuun.
This may be my last post ever.
Before you freak out and wonder how your life will go on, let me tell you I have no plans on stopping but if I blow my arms off and/or burn my house down after this weekend it will be a little hard to continue.
I've decided to bake this weekend. I've decided that my cooking skills are to be put on hold while I attempt to join the ranks of holiday bakers world wide. I'm going to be making sugar cookies decorated with royal icing. From scratch. All of it. Alton Brown listed these recipes as "easy" and if he lied he may or may not be getting a strongly worded letter. {Again, this all depends on whether or not I blow my arms off.}
I be-bopped across the street to Bed, Bath and Beyond for a hand mixer. There were about a thousand. I chose the cheapest one because, amongst other things, I have a sneaking suspicion that this contraption will be used this weekend and this weekend only. I also bought a sifter. It's fucking adorable and I kind of felt Amish while I was testing it in line. I have no idea why I felt this way. I also got a strong urge to churn butter. One step at a time, Shannon, one step at a time. After work, I went to Kroger and headed straight to the baking isle. It was a foreign land to me. A few things I learned:
1. Baking powder and baking soda are NOT the same.
2. There are a lot of different choices. For everything. Flour and sugar included.
3. While my mom enjoys helping me make the distinction between all these items, I think she likes making fun of me at the same time.
While I type this post and when I'm cleaning my kitchen to prepare it for the onslaught of yumminess that will be taking place in a matter of hours, I decided to watch the foodnetwork to get in the mood. Mistake. Rachel Ray is on. She's really annoying. R - squared has a tendency to do the Ann Curry whisper/raspy voice that I'm not too fond of. Plus she says really stupid shit. Like this stuff is so stupid that I will judge the hell out of you if you even crack a smile at her jokes. Example: RR threw some salt over her shoulder for luck and said: "Why does pepper never get thrown over your shoulder. Poor pepper, I bet he feels left out." You, sir, are an idiot.
Time to focus. And decorate for Christmas. And do Christmas cards. Yes, it's December 17th and I haven't started any of this. OR Christmas shopping. Something tells me I will regret this decision tomorrow. Stay tuned for pictures. Don't worry, I have 911 on speed dial. Hopefully, if things DO take a turn for the worst, some of these fellas will come to my rescue.
Before you freak out and wonder how your life will go on, let me tell you I have no plans on stopping but if I blow my arms off and/or burn my house down after this weekend it will be a little hard to continue.
I've decided to bake this weekend. I've decided that my cooking skills are to be put on hold while I attempt to join the ranks of holiday bakers world wide. I'm going to be making sugar cookies decorated with royal icing. From scratch. All of it. Alton Brown listed these recipes as "easy" and if he lied he may or may not be getting a strongly worded letter. {Again, this all depends on whether or not I blow my arms off.}
I be-bopped across the street to Bed, Bath and Beyond for a hand mixer. There were about a thousand. I chose the cheapest one because, amongst other things, I have a sneaking suspicion that this contraption will be used this weekend and this weekend only. I also bought a sifter. It's fucking adorable and I kind of felt Amish while I was testing it in line. I have no idea why I felt this way. I also got a strong urge to churn butter. One step at a time, Shannon, one step at a time. After work, I went to Kroger and headed straight to the baking isle. It was a foreign land to me. A few things I learned:
1. Baking powder and baking soda are NOT the same.
2. There are a lot of different choices. For everything. Flour and sugar included.
3. While my mom enjoys helping me make the distinction between all these items, I think she likes making fun of me at the same time.
While I type this post and when I'm cleaning my kitchen to prepare it for the onslaught of yumminess that will be taking place in a matter of hours, I decided to watch the foodnetwork to get in the mood. Mistake. Rachel Ray is on. She's really annoying. R - squared has a tendency to do the Ann Curry whisper/raspy voice that I'm not too fond of. Plus she says really stupid shit. Like this stuff is so stupid that I will judge the hell out of you if you even crack a smile at her jokes. Example: RR threw some salt over her shoulder for luck and said: "Why does pepper never get thrown over your shoulder. Poor pepper, I bet he feels left out." You, sir, are an idiot.
Time to focus. And decorate for Christmas. And do Christmas cards. Yes, it's December 17th and I haven't started any of this. OR Christmas shopping. Something tells me I will regret this decision tomorrow. Stay tuned for pictures. Don't worry, I have 911 on speed dial. Hopefully, if things DO take a turn for the worst, some of these fellas will come to my rescue.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Buddy the Elf, what's your favorite color?
I always think that I love cold weather... every year I get ridiculously excited about fall and then about winter. Then winter hits and I'm cursing the fact that I can't go outside without wondering if I am going to die of hypothermia. I live in the south. It's not supposed to be cold for any prolonged period of time. We are only to freeze for a week or so in January then relish the 40 degree weather the rest of the season. We are supposed to watch the weather {Ron Childers is the MAN} and chuckle when we hear about the coldness hitting the rest of the country. Not this year, my friends. This year has been too cold for my liking. Unless I have someone who can warm up my car and bring me a steaming cup of coffee every morning, I'm not a fan of this weather. I am, on the other hand, a pretty big fan of the holiday season. Here's a few reasons why:
1. The Madonna Christmas program: I've gone the past 3 or 4 years and there is little in life that makes me so happy. G's little sister Ivy is the only main reason I go. To say I love her is putting it as mildly as I possibly can. Ivy is the cutest, most hilarious person I know.
2. Starry Nights at Shelby Farms: It starts the day after Thanksgiving and goes through January 2. It's $20 a car and is so wonderful. You drive through the park and see some awesome lights. My mom, aunt Laura, cousin, grandma and I go to dinner before hand then go see the lights. My favorite is driving through this little area...
1. The Madonna Christmas program: I've gone the past 3 or 4 years and there is little in life that makes me so happy. G's little sister Ivy is the only main reason I go. To say I love her is putting it as mildly as I possibly can. Ivy is the cutest, most hilarious person I know.
2. Starry Nights at Shelby Farms: It starts the day after Thanksgiving and goes through January 2. It's $20 a car and is so wonderful. You drive through the park and see some awesome lights. My mom, aunt Laura, cousin, grandma and I go to dinner before hand then go see the lights. My favorite is driving through this little area...
3. Zoo lights and ice skating: Ok, so I haven't done either one of these... It's been a hot minute since I've done zoo lights and the ice skating just started this year. It's $5 for the zoo lights and $6 for the ice skating (that includes rentals). I cannot wait to talk one of my friends into doing this with me.
4. Scarves, gloves, coats, etc. I love bundling up. Especially if I'm just going to hanging out around my house. I've done way too much of that this weekend.
5. Christmas movies. I love holiday happiness. I love ABC Family and Lifetime even more this time of year. Here are a few of my favs:
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| Duh. |
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| Don't judge me. |
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| Double duh. |
I'll probably be posting again later this afternoon. Maybe some gift ideas? For me or one of your like-minded, mentally deranged friends?
Lists of Four
My homegirl over at Noble's Book tagged me in this fun little list of 4s. I usually like to keep my lists to multiples of three's but that's because I'm moderately OCD. Here we go:
1. Four shows that you watch:
one: Gossip Girl
two: Modern Family
three: The Office
four: Parks and Recreation - this gem starts back up in January and I'm super excited about it.
2. Four things you are passionate about:
one: My friends and family
two: Laughing
three: My blog, your blog, every one's blog.
four: Being happy
3. Four words/phrases you say a lot:
one: Fuck you
two: Shut up
three: Call 911
four: OMG {I obviously need to broaden my vocabulary. I talk like a junior high Jersey girl}
4. Four things you've learned from the past:
one: Karma is a mother fucker.
two: Life may suck but it always gets better
three: Family is super important
four: I have to straighten my hair if I want to have a short hair cut. Mushroom heads aren't cool.
5. Four places you would like to go:
one: Ireland
two: India
three: Japan
four: Figi
6. Four things you did yesterday: Side note - I should have done this yesterday because I did very little yesterday
one: Watched ABC Family
two: Watched Lifetime
three: Babysat the world's most annoying family
four: A little bit of grocery shopping
7. Four things you are looking forward to:
one: Starry Nights on Wednesday
two: tomorrow?
three: the next day?
four: the day after that?
8. Four things you love about Winter:
one: Madonna Learning Center's Christmas program
two: Starry nights with my aunt, cousin, momma and g-ma
three: Snow
four: Hazelnut Hot chocolate
9. Tag 4 people to play along:
Raquel @ Memphis Mama
Jill @ Just Doin What I Want
Andrea @ Happily Ever After
Robyn @ Espadrilles, Lamps and Lava Cake
Maggie @ Daydream Believing
1. Four shows that you watch:
one: Gossip Girl
two: Modern Family
three: The Office
four: Parks and Recreation - this gem starts back up in January and I'm super excited about it.
2. Four things you are passionate about:
one: My friends and family
two: Laughing
three: My blog, your blog, every one's blog.
four: Being happy
3. Four words/phrases you say a lot:
one: Fuck you
two: Shut up
three: Call 911
four: OMG {I obviously need to broaden my vocabulary. I talk like a junior high Jersey girl}
4. Four things you've learned from the past:
one: Karma is a mother fucker.
two: Life may suck but it always gets better
three: Family is super important
four: I have to straighten my hair if I want to have a short hair cut. Mushroom heads aren't cool.
5. Four places you would like to go:
one: Ireland
two: India
three: Japan
four: Figi
6. Four things you did yesterday: Side note - I should have done this yesterday because I did very little yesterday
one: Watched ABC Family
two: Watched Lifetime
three: Babysat the world's most annoying family
four: A little bit of grocery shopping
7. Four things you are looking forward to:
one: Starry Nights on Wednesday
two: tomorrow?
three: the next day?
four: the day after that?
8. Four things you love about Winter:
one: Madonna Learning Center's Christmas program
two: Starry nights with my aunt, cousin, momma and g-ma
three: Snow
four: Hazelnut Hot chocolate
9. Tag 4 people to play along:
Raquel @ Memphis Mama
Jill @ Just Doin What I Want
Andrea @ Happily Ever After
Robyn @ Espadrilles, Lamps and Lava Cake
Maggie @ Daydream Believing
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Peacocks and prisoners.
I had another exciting day at work. Our system was down until around 1 so I had an excuse to read all of my news websites, celebrity gossip sites, play Angry Birds and read my favorite weekly publication: Just Busted.
If you aren't from Memphis, or don't go into gas stations where they sell this beautiful little magazine let me explain it to you: People from Shelby county {and 2 other ones that mean nothing to me because I have NO idea where they are - Desoto and Crittenden} get arrested. A LOT. They get arrested for all sorts of things - criminal trespassing, domestic assault, drugs, being drunk, being douche bags... you get the picture. Anyway, this gem comes out on a weekly basis and is sold for $1. Rest assured that if you are feeling bad about you life - if things aren't looking so hot - pick up one of these bitches. If you don't laugh, smile, cringe and laugh some more then you are probably my mother. In which case you should NOT be reading this. In addition to that, if you can't laugh at the misfortunes of others than you definitely should not be reading this.
I don't look through all of these mug shots solely because they make me chuckle. I skim these pages for a reunion of sorts. I've purchased at least 20 of these things and I've known at least one person in each one. Yikes. Does that say something about me? It should... It should tell you that I'm a really good judge of character. I like to hang out with only people of sound morals and a firm grasp on reality. I also look through these pages in hopes of finding my next boyfriend. Joking? You tell me...
Pros: He has some nice comb over bangs. His eyes tell me he knows how to party.
If you aren't from Memphis, or don't go into gas stations where they sell this beautiful little magazine let me explain it to you: People from Shelby county {and 2 other ones that mean nothing to me because I have NO idea where they are - Desoto and Crittenden} get arrested. A LOT. They get arrested for all sorts of things - criminal trespassing, domestic assault, drugs, being drunk, being douche bags... you get the picture. Anyway, this gem comes out on a weekly basis and is sold for $1. Rest assured that if you are feeling bad about you life - if things aren't looking so hot - pick up one of these bitches. If you don't laugh, smile, cringe and laugh some more then you are probably my mother. In which case you should NOT be reading this. In addition to that, if you can't laugh at the misfortunes of others than you definitely should not be reading this.
I don't look through all of these mug shots solely because they make me chuckle. I skim these pages for a reunion of sorts. I've purchased at least 20 of these things and I've known at least one person in each one. Yikes. Does that say something about me? It should... It should tell you that I'm a really good judge of character. I like to hang out with only people of sound morals and a firm grasp on reality. I also look through these pages in hopes of finding my next boyfriend. Joking? You tell me...
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| Option #1 |
Cons: His eyes... one is looking at me while the other is the kind that follows you around everywhere. Oh that and the assault with intent to do bodily harm.
Pros: He's got white teeth. And... he's an, um, entrepreneur?
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| Option #2 |
Cons: It looks as if he does more yayo than Rick James and Charlie Murphy put together.
Pros: He looks like Jesus.
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| Option #3 |
Cons: He looks like Jesus... on meth.
I guess I'll keep up my weekly hunt for my Prince Charming.
Now I need to tell you about something serious. I want a peacock. A pet peacock. Slash I want a friend to get one so I can go hang out with it. Better yet, I would really like it if a neighbor of mine got one so I could be completely devoid of all responsibility. {Quick aside: I'm very glad that none of my friends would get one. I don't know that I want to be friends with anyone who is a bird person. They tend to be fucking lunatics that have a taste for abusing illegal substances. Know the first person that pops into my mind? HINT: It starts with "H" and ends with "eidi Fleiss."} Taylor and I googled this {it was a very long morning}. While he was convinced that he would kill and grill this beautiful creature, I just want to look at it.
Ok. Happy almost Friday. I'm giving you some more GP tonight. Love it. Know what else I love? This video was filmed at Sundown in the City up in the 865. Knoxville, I miss your stank ass.
Now I need to tell you about something serious. I want a peacock. A pet peacock. Slash I want a friend to get one so I can go hang out with it. Better yet, I would really like it if a neighbor of mine got one so I could be completely devoid of all responsibility. {Quick aside: I'm very glad that none of my friends would get one. I don't know that I want to be friends with anyone who is a bird person. They tend to be fucking lunatics that have a taste for abusing illegal substances. Know the first person that pops into my mind? HINT: It starts with "H" and ends with "eidi Fleiss."} Taylor and I googled this {it was a very long morning}. While he was convinced that he would kill and grill this beautiful creature, I just want to look at it.
Ok. Happy almost Friday. I'm giving you some more GP tonight. Love it. Know what else I love? This video was filmed at Sundown in the City up in the 865. Knoxville, I miss your stank ass.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
What AN idiot.
I was looking over one of my last posts - my crazy rant where I come off as a hormonal elitist {See here for a reminder} - when I realized that I forgot to put my favorite part of that blog... the sign I added to the break room at work.
Back story: I've told you about the Sign Nazi. Homegirl posts signs about anything and everything that rubs her the wrong way. Ok - so I work with quite a few people. I don't know / care to count exactly how many but enough. Anyway, we all share a break room. There's a coffee pot, a water jug-thing, tables, a tv and the refrigerator. The stupid fucking refrigerator. I wish you could smell it. Um... scratch that - I don't want anyone to be forced to smell this. It smells like curdled ass. People put their lunches in there and leave them for decades. Other people - me and a girl in my department for instance - use it strictly for the essentials: cream for my coffee and milk because she was preggo and had heartburn like everyday.
Not two weeks after I brought in some delicious cream {in an absurdly large bottle, mind you} and after one use, it was gone. As in someone put it back in the fridge empty. If that wasn't annoying enough, whoever used it didn't ask. Rude. I will always say yes. Just ask.
Cut to a few hours later: Preggo goes to get the milk because her heartburn was a'kickin and it was gone. No jug. Nothing. Seeing as there is only one Preggo at work, someone knowingly drank a pregnant woman's heartburn salvation. It was after hearing this little bit of info that I got even more annoyed with my fucking rude inconsiderate co-workers. I decided the time had come for me to add to the break room signage.
It's still hanging up right where I left it. I wanted to right "Shaaaaaame" in bright red sharpie but apparently that was too far? What the fuck ever. I think I'll laugh at this for several weeks. I hope I shamed the shit out of whomever was responsible for poor preggo's heartburn.
I love Cee Lo Green.
Back story: I've told you about the Sign Nazi. Homegirl posts signs about anything and everything that rubs her the wrong way. Ok - so I work with quite a few people. I don't know / care to count exactly how many but enough. Anyway, we all share a break room. There's a coffee pot, a water jug-thing, tables, a tv and the refrigerator. The stupid fucking refrigerator. I wish you could smell it. Um... scratch that - I don't want anyone to be forced to smell this. It smells like curdled ass. People put their lunches in there and leave them for decades. Other people - me and a girl in my department for instance - use it strictly for the essentials: cream for my coffee and milk because she was preggo and had heartburn like everyday.
Not two weeks after I brought in some delicious cream {in an absurdly large bottle, mind you} and after one use, it was gone. As in someone put it back in the fridge empty. If that wasn't annoying enough, whoever used it didn't ask. Rude. I will always say yes. Just ask.
Cut to a few hours later: Preggo goes to get the milk because her heartburn was a'kickin and it was gone. No jug. Nothing. Seeing as there is only one Preggo at work, someone knowingly drank a pregnant woman's heartburn salvation. It was after hearing this little bit of info that I got even more annoyed with my fucking rude inconsiderate co-workers. I decided the time had come for me to add to the break room signage.
It's still hanging up right where I left it. I wanted to right "Shaaaaaame" in bright red sharpie but apparently that was too far? What the fuck ever. I think I'll laugh at this for several weeks. I hope I shamed the shit out of whomever was responsible for poor preggo's heartburn.
I love Cee Lo Green.
WTF Wednesday
I am stealing the idea for this "What the fuuuck Wednesday" from one of my favorite blogs. Seriously, if you haven't read Carrie Bradshaw is full of shit - go read it. Obviously after you finish mine... I don't want you to do anything crazy.
So... I have a few things I would like to address. I'm choosing to do so in letter form because um... I can?
So... I have a few things I would like to address. I'm choosing to do so in letter form because um... I can?
What the Fuuuuck
Dear co-workers,
I love you. Ok so I guess I only stand? tolerate? know most you. I'm stoked that you have husbands, families the whole she-bang. For real. I'm glad you have someone/thing to go home to. But please, oh please, let me make one thing clear: I do not care about your marital problems, the problems you have with your in-laws, with your children - I think you get the drift. I'm going to beg of you that, unless prompted {and trust - you should know when I am willing to listen}, keep your problems at hooome. Unless your problems give me great joy and involve fun things to which I can relate.
Dearest friends,
I'm obsessed with you as you all know. Like I would make babies with 99.8342% of you. SPEAKING OF BABIES, I'm not ready for them. I'm not ready for you to be having them on purpose. I'm not ready for any of us to be thinking about getting engaged or getting married. It scares the hell out of me. It sends chills throughout my body. I think I'm mainly feeling pressure {thanks, mom}. I can barely take care of myself so if you feel like you need to mother something, I'm willing to drink too much and force you to babysit me. Consider it practice? On that note, I'm absurdly excited for those of you that ARE having babies and getting married. Mainly for those that have/are having chillrens. I'm probably the best aunt ever. Just ask Ms B.
Dear WordFeud, Angry Birds, HeyTell, Peep, et al,
Thank you for being the best fucking apps on the face of the planet. I have no idea how I got through the day without you. Real life.
Dear life,
Get yourself together. I'm talking to you, hormones. While I do enjoy my boobies, I'm tired of getting distracted by you {don't judge me}. Also if you could cut out the crampage in my lady biz, that'd be great. I know I'm not actually having an alien baby but I also know that I need it to stop. Stat. Now your turn, house: I don't like having to do laundry for hours on end. I don't like doing it at all, actually. If you could become robotic {the cool kind - not the creepy kind} and take of that yourself that would be solid.
Dear jello shots,
Fuck. You. It's over between us. I mean it this time?
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| I want to barf even thinking about last weekend. |
Dear Grace Potter and the Nocturnals,
Thank you for being the baddest merfs around. GP, I have a serious girl crush on you. Please don't ever sell out. Oh, and please come back to Memphis.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Shannon and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
I should have known that it was going to be a long day when I got to work and the mere sound of a certain person's voice made me seriously contemplate cutting myself. Or calling in a bomb threat. Or make an electrical fire small enough to ensure the safety of others but big enough to cause a building wide black out for the rest of the day. I should have known I needed to go home and watch sad movies on lifetime and let the PMS cry itself out. I should have... but I didn't.
It was going fine through lunch. While I could tell that I was on edge, I seriously thought I could make it through - I mean, I only had 3.5 hours left - that's not long right? Wrong. So. Fucking. Wrong. I had one of those afternoons were I felt like no one was listening to me. Typically this wouldn't be a problem but since these were my co-workers and I rely on them to get the hell out of dodge at 5 pm - this is crucial. No one listened to me. Not once. Not at all. Five o'clock rolled around and this one fella was dying to talk to me. Obviously I made a bee line for the door and told one of my co-workers that if I didn't get out of there right then that the possibility of me snapping is no longer an IF but a WHEN.
I roll down the street to Kroger because I haven't gone grocery shopping in 3 weeks, give or take. I didn't go to crack head Kroger. I went to my usual Kroger, pick a cart out and head into the store. While I'm thinking to myself that I must have finally gotten a cart that wouldn't cause internal bleeding, 6 steps into the store the handle bar jams into my uterus. It felt wonderful, as I'm sure you can imagine. {I know everyone reading this knows exactly the kind of cart I'm talking about. The one with the old gross string of a mop tied around one of the wheels causing it to be moderately to completely immobile.} Shitty cart aside, I'm trying to make it through. I pick up some bananas and crackers and head to the meat department. In the meantime Old Man Kroger gets in my way with a big cart of god knows what causing me to put on the breaks of the worst grocery cart ever - once again impaling my uterus. Sweet, I didn't want that thing to work anyway. Not only did he just STOP in front of me he looked at me like I had told him I kill puppies in my free time. I maneuver around Old Man Kroger and make it to the chicken. Unlike the time before, they actually had chicken breast but it was being guarded by Old Woman Kroger. This little gem was putting out new price tags on gizzards or something gross like that. Clearly the 10 cent difference between chicken asshole would make a difference because homegirl didn't get the hint I was waiting. Someone needed to ask her a question {her response? Who knows. It was so far from English I was positive that I had transported to another planet}. Old Woman Kroger moved out of the way long enough for me to reach over and grab one package of chicken. Then she turns around and straight up walks into me. No apology. No excuse me. She, too, looks at me like I'm a puppy killer and goes about pricing chicken ball sacks. All the while trying to nudge me further out of the way. I grab my purse and my bags and loudly proclaim how I can't handle this and leave my baby killing cart in the middle of the aisle.
Apparently Memphis got a memo that I didn't. APPARENTLY today was drive 5 MPH down the busiest street in Memphis taking up 2 lanes. Cuuuute, real cute. Against Grace's advise, I stop to get some cigarettes {yes, I'm smoking again. Shame me at your own risk} and here I sit. On my bed. Leftover 18 pack by my side. Seriously thinking about smoking inside - gross. Typing my first blog {I had to write this one before I covered the Thanksgiving festivities}. All I have to say is FUCK YOU, TUESDAY.
I can't believe I haven't shared this with you yet. I added a sign to the break room at work. If you don't remember the Sign Nazi - read this. I make myself laugh so much it's unnerving.
It was going fine through lunch. While I could tell that I was on edge, I seriously thought I could make it through - I mean, I only had 3.5 hours left - that's not long right? Wrong. So. Fucking. Wrong. I had one of those afternoons were I felt like no one was listening to me. Typically this wouldn't be a problem but since these were my co-workers and I rely on them to get the hell out of dodge at 5 pm - this is crucial. No one listened to me. Not once. Not at all. Five o'clock rolled around and this one fella was dying to talk to me. Obviously I made a bee line for the door and told one of my co-workers that if I didn't get out of there right then that the possibility of me snapping is no longer an IF but a WHEN.
I roll down the street to Kroger because I haven't gone grocery shopping in 3 weeks, give or take. I didn't go to crack head Kroger. I went to my usual Kroger, pick a cart out and head into the store. While I'm thinking to myself that I must have finally gotten a cart that wouldn't cause internal bleeding, 6 steps into the store the handle bar jams into my uterus. It felt wonderful, as I'm sure you can imagine. {I know everyone reading this knows exactly the kind of cart I'm talking about. The one with the old gross string of a mop tied around one of the wheels causing it to be moderately to completely immobile.} Shitty cart aside, I'm trying to make it through. I pick up some bananas and crackers and head to the meat department. In the meantime Old Man Kroger gets in my way with a big cart of god knows what causing me to put on the breaks of the worst grocery cart ever - once again impaling my uterus. Sweet, I didn't want that thing to work anyway. Not only did he just STOP in front of me he looked at me like I had told him I kill puppies in my free time. I maneuver around Old Man Kroger and make it to the chicken. Unlike the time before, they actually had chicken breast but it was being guarded by Old Woman Kroger. This little gem was putting out new price tags on gizzards or something gross like that. Clearly the 10 cent difference between chicken asshole would make a difference because homegirl didn't get the hint I was waiting. Someone needed to ask her a question {her response? Who knows. It was so far from English I was positive that I had transported to another planet}. Old Woman Kroger moved out of the way long enough for me to reach over and grab one package of chicken. Then she turns around and straight up walks into me. No apology. No excuse me. She, too, looks at me like I'm a puppy killer and goes about pricing chicken ball sacks. All the while trying to nudge me further out of the way. I grab my purse and my bags and loudly proclaim how I can't handle this and leave my baby killing cart in the middle of the aisle.
Apparently Memphis got a memo that I didn't. APPARENTLY today was drive 5 MPH down the busiest street in Memphis taking up 2 lanes. Cuuuute, real cute. Against Grace's advise, I stop to get some cigarettes {yes, I'm smoking again. Shame me at your own risk} and here I sit. On my bed. Leftover 18 pack by my side. Seriously thinking about smoking inside - gross. Typing my first blog {I had to write this one before I covered the Thanksgiving festivities}. All I have to say is FUCK YOU, TUESDAY.
I can't believe I haven't shared this with you yet. I added a sign to the break room at work. If you don't remember the Sign Nazi - read this. I make myself laugh so much it's unnerving.
I missed you.
I'm terribly sorry for my lack of postage recently. I would like to tell you that I've been off doing really cool things but I have no idea what I've been doing. Not a clue. On one of these days I was driving down the road and I had an aha moment. Regardless of what I may tell you from time to time {esp in my next post}, I have an awesome life. I have the world's best friends. And the world's best family. I'm exactly where I need to be in life right now but more importantly - I am exactly where I want to be. I love all you assholes. Here we go:
Monday: Knowing that I didn't have to get up and work the next day forces me to go out and get haaaawaaaaaasted. Like my bar tab was so high because I was buying shots for everyone I'm embarrassed to tell you the final tally. When I finally leave there is a torrential downpour. Did I mention that I walked there? Obviously the walk home was super fun.
Tuesday: the official start of my vacation. I awoke with a beautiful pounding in my head and a tinge of nausea. Delish. I head over to my parents where I spend the majority of the day cleaning their house and trying to prepare it for the onslaught of family that would be coming throughout the next week. It can be quite burdensome carrying the throne of favorite child. I finally get to head out and get a mani/pedi. There is no day-long hangover that a mani/pedi can't ease. My upstairs digits got a fresh coat of Rising Star while my piggies are rocking Russian Navy.
Wednesday: My "me" day. I went and got my hair did. More blond because... well, it was necessary. I stop by my mother's on my way home and get wrangled into going to the grocery store the day before Thanksgiving. {Again, favorite child = kiiiind of annoying} An eternity later, I make my way home, do a load of laundry and head out to the annual O'Leary Turkey Fry. I guess a lot of people haven't had the opportunity to feast on fried turkey but it's so good. Anyway, all the men in the family start drinking at 2-ish and the party doesn't stop until all of the birds are fried. I believe the total number this year was around 20ish - at an hour a bird... you do the math. That's a lot of beer. Fer, my cousin Jen and I head over to my parent's house to drink some more and head out for a night on the town. Jen opted out while Fer and I went over to a friend's house. A long time and too much of the sauce later we make it over to Casa de Fer and this is what happened.
Yup. That's my best friend since forever hugging bacon. And sausage.
Monday: Knowing that I didn't have to get up and work the next day forces me to go out and get haaaawaaaaaasted. Like my bar tab was so high because I was buying shots for everyone I'm embarrassed to tell you the final tally. When I finally leave there is a torrential downpour. Did I mention that I walked there? Obviously the walk home was super fun.
Tuesday: the official start of my vacation. I awoke with a beautiful pounding in my head and a tinge of nausea. Delish. I head over to my parents where I spend the majority of the day cleaning their house and trying to prepare it for the onslaught of family that would be coming throughout the next week. It can be quite burdensome carrying the throne of favorite child. I finally get to head out and get a mani/pedi. There is no day-long hangover that a mani/pedi can't ease. My upstairs digits got a fresh coat of Rising Star while my piggies are rocking Russian Navy.
Wednesday: My "me" day. I went and got my hair did. More blond because... well, it was necessary. I stop by my mother's on my way home and get wrangled into going to the grocery store the day before Thanksgiving. {Again, favorite child = kiiiind of annoying} An eternity later, I make my way home, do a load of laundry and head out to the annual O'Leary Turkey Fry. I guess a lot of people haven't had the opportunity to feast on fried turkey but it's so good. Anyway, all the men in the family start drinking at 2-ish and the party doesn't stop until all of the birds are fried. I believe the total number this year was around 20ish - at an hour a bird... you do the math. That's a lot of beer. Fer, my cousin Jen and I head over to my parent's house to drink some more and head out for a night on the town. Jen opted out while Fer and I went over to a friend's house. A long time and too much of the sauce later we make it over to Casa de Fer and this is what happened.
 |
| Our love for pork goes deep. |
Thanksgiving: I attempt to help my mother avoid the inevitable freak out mode. I fail. 50+ people were in attendance and my parents' A/C goes out. Brilliant. Luckily someone, somewhere invented alcohol. Freak out mode happens. The whole family arrives. We feast.
{Side bar"My family has an unhealthy obsession with Sister Schubert rolls. It's not Thanksgiving without them. My mother put my grandmother in charge of the rolls and she brought some abomination. Something someone, somewhere MAY call bread but other people usually refer to them as bricks. I already told my dad I was not going to be the one to break it to his mother that she's un-invited to next year's Thanksgiving. I feel like that's something he should obviously be doing.}
Moving on... we drink too much, we eat too much, we miss Super T. Tragedy, I know.
Friday: Worst. Morning. Ever. As I told you before, we had to get family pictures taken. I shamed my mother enough to convince her that all of us dressing the same was a lame idea {thank freaking god}. Over 30 of us gather and take more pictures than I typically take in a decade. Meanwhile, my mature family pulls out a FART MACHINE and is pressing it at every chance possible. That poor photographer may never take another picture after what we put him through. After this horrid experience, I lie to my family and tell them I have plans and go hide out in my house for a few hours. We then go out and celebrate my grandma's 80th birthday and head to Broseph's house for the after party. Jen and I head to the gas station and pick up some "JungleJoos." I have no idea what this is. I know they call it a "premium malt beverage" and that it looks a lot like hazardous waste.
This party obviously calls for a drinking game. Said drinking game required a little bit of rhyming. In case you were wondering, storage rhymes with orange. Genius. Jen, Fer and I grow tired of this party and decide to go show off our pipes at Windjammer. Windjammer spikes their beer - maybe with roofies? Jen and I decide it's a good idea to go to an after-hours bar in midtown. {It's never a good idea}. After McDonalds breakfast around 7am: we make it make to Jen's hotel.
Saturday: I wake up. A little confused as to my surroundings. I take one whiff of myself {Windjammer and Alex's are both smoking bars} and I projectile vomit. Cuuuuute. Hangover, hangover, hangover. Germantown Commissary, bed.
Sunday: I didn't get out of my pajamas. I ate Chinese food. I recovered. Ish.
Monday: Work is stupid. I talk to my dad and he asks me when I'm going to start my program. What program? AA. I told him whenever he did. He chuckles and in the background I can hear the popping of a beer can. Keep it classy, Ricky-poo. Keep. It. Classy. I go down to a friend's and watch Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken. If you don't know this movie, please go check it out. It's beauty and grace circa 1991.
In other news, Monday was also my parents 30th anniversary. So cute. This song is not for them... it's actually for Fer and Jen. I may never remember our rendition of this song but I'm sure it was gnarly.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
What are you thinking of?
My heart was broken this morning. I think I literally saw it fall out of my chest and saw the shards of ice bounce across the floor. I'm going to tell you what set me over the edge. {I'm blaming this on Ann Curry for no reason other than she drives me fucking insane.} I'm sure you've heard by now: Prince William is engaged. I think his fiance's name is Kate? But let's be honest. I don't care. All I know is that the home wrecker ruined any chance I had at marrying William. I don't care that his teeth are gross nor do I care that he's balding. He's a fucking prince. Confession: I don't care about him at all. I just want a tiara for god's sake. Looks like I've got to keep my eyes on Harry... does anyone know of a therapy that will make me more partial to the gingers? I'll probably need some sort of electric shock therapy.
Monday, November 15, 2010
One more thing...
Another reason why I shouldn't go out of town any time soon: bad things happen. My best, Gracie, had to drive HERSELF to the ER Sunday morning and ended up getting an appendectomy. Now, I have no idea what an appendix is and I certainly have no fucking clue what it does but I have a feeling that they aren't important. G is still in the hospital right now so I went to see her after work. I hate hospitals. But something that I love: shower caps that have shampoo in them. All you have to do is put it on and scrub for a minute or two and viola! You're shit is less nasty. I hope she gets out of there tomorrow because I don't want to get lost wandering the halls and looking into strangers rooms again. Love you, G. FEEL BETTER, NOW!
You win. You always do.
Hi-dy ho boys and girls. I hope you all had a good weekend. As I told you in my last post, I decided to take a little road trip up to Nashville this past weekend. As per usual, the 615 and I went toe to toe. I'm fairly certain that Nashville won but let's tally the score:
I arrived around 8ish Friday night. {Side note: day light savings time sucks balls. Having to drive the entire trip in the dark was freaking Snooze-ville, USA.} Taylor and I stopped at a McDonald's to wait for Nashville to come pick me up. We go inside where I immediately notice the plethora of thugs and that all the tv's are speaking Spanish. I can handle this. I'm from Memphis. I get cat-called whilst walking to the pisser and ogled the entire 20 minutes we are there. Maybe they don't grow them like me off of exit 6. One point to me.
615: 0 Shannon: 1
We decide to go to Losers - a fun little bar in the midtown area? Let me tell you something, dear friends. Nashville looooves it's mustaches. My little heart skipped a beat with each passing fu manchu. I had to pet on fella's mustache because it was so luscious. {Yup. I'm fully aware of how creepy this sounds. And please believe me that it was 100% creepier than you think.} Let's blame this move on the rumplemintz. Clearly the 615 takes the win here.
615: 1 Shannon: 1
We head to bar numero dos {Red Bar, I believe}. Things were going fine. I saw this one little nugget who was wearing the biggest, most ridiculously blinged out watch I'd ever seen in my life. Of course I had to mock him. Mocking lead to him spilling some lines about how he's Lebron James' PR guy. Lies. Anyway, 3 o'clock comes along and my new homegirl Jagoda and I realize that Nashville, our ride, has decided to flee the scene with a stranger nick-named Dave Mraz due to his uncanny resemblance to Dave Matthews and Mr. to the AZ. Being the resourceful ladies that we are, Jagoda and I start looking around for landmarks and realize that we are by a SPACESHIP. Nashville finally comes to our rescue - probably because she found the spaceship - and we make it home. The city takes another win with this one. The architectural beauty may be the only reason Jagoda and I did not wind up on the back of a milk carton or on Dateline.
615: 2 Shannon: 1
I arrived around 8ish Friday night. {Side note: day light savings time sucks balls. Having to drive the entire trip in the dark was freaking Snooze-ville, USA.} Taylor and I stopped at a McDonald's to wait for Nashville to come pick me up. We go inside where I immediately notice the plethora of thugs and that all the tv's are speaking Spanish. I can handle this. I'm from Memphis. I get cat-called whilst walking to the pisser and ogled the entire 20 minutes we are there. Maybe they don't grow them like me off of exit 6. One point to me.
615: 0 Shannon: 1
We decide to go to Losers - a fun little bar in the midtown area? Let me tell you something, dear friends. Nashville looooves it's mustaches. My little heart skipped a beat with each passing fu manchu. I had to pet on fella's mustache because it was so luscious. {Yup. I'm fully aware of how creepy this sounds. And please believe me that it was 100% creepier than you think.} Let's blame this move on the rumplemintz. Clearly the 615 takes the win here.
615: 1 Shannon: 1
We head to bar numero dos {Red Bar, I believe}. Things were going fine. I saw this one little nugget who was wearing the biggest, most ridiculously blinged out watch I'd ever seen in my life. Of course I had to mock him. Mocking lead to him spilling some lines about how he's Lebron James' PR guy. Lies. Anyway, 3 o'clock comes along and my new homegirl Jagoda and I realize that Nashville, our ride, has decided to flee the scene with a stranger nick-named Dave Mraz due to his uncanny resemblance to Dave Matthews and Mr. to the AZ. Being the resourceful ladies that we are, Jagoda and I start looking around for landmarks and realize that we are by a SPACESHIP. Nashville finally comes to our rescue - probably because she found the spaceship - and we make it home. The city takes another win with this one. The architectural beauty may be the only reason Jagoda and I did not wind up on the back of a milk carton or on Dateline.
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| So maybe it doesn't look like a spaceship... |
In my hurry to find my pj's and make my way to bed I had a run in with the door. Actually, my foot had a run in with the door. The door won. My toe? Well, it's now broken. This calls for 1 point to the 615 and - 1 point for me.
615: 3 Shannon: 0
Saturday: I drank too much rumple, fancy that, and spent the majority of the day watching Harry Potter. Before round 2 I had to go get some flats {though they are cute, I loathe them. Flats are not my friend}. My body is not physically prepared for another night on the town - especially since Nashville had to make jello shots and got moonshine for the birthday party we were supposed to attend. I put my party panties on and went along for the ride. Looking back, I should have stayed home.
Jello shots, moonshine and fireball were a-flowing at the party. We head downtown {jello and fireball in purses, of course}. Before we go into Miss Kelly's the bouncer makes me show him the contents of my purse. The Meathead finds not one, not two - not even three or four but NINE jello shots in my purse. Naturally I step outside and throw them to anyone that looks like someone I know. Meathead is not pleased. He shames the shiiiiiit out of me but I dance my way back to the bar. I'm giving myself one point for my ability to share and the city gets one for le shame.
615: 4 Shannon: 1
Things start to get a little fuzzy. Here's what I know: rumplemintz, whiskey, jello, water {see, I'm responsible}, dancing, schooling some silly boys in the ghetto ways of Coolio, strip club {no need for extra shame here... I got this}, penis tattoo {real life}, closing time?, SEVENTY FIVE DOLLAR cab ride home, getting lost in the apartment complex, sleep? If I added this correctly that's 8 for the 615 and 2 for me. I'm taking one of my points away for going to a strip club. That's fucking gross.
615: 12 Shannon:2
Did I mention that I left my phone in the cab? Or that someone stepped on my broken toe and I wanted to punch them in the genitals and projectile vomit in their face all at the same time? Yup. Sunday morning was rough. REAL rough. I had to find Nashville to use her phone because I didn't know what time my ride was coming through. I don't know my ride's number. Enter panic attack. Through some handy facebooking I found my ride's number but his phone was dead. Seriously - PANIC attack. I was positive that I was going to have to take a greyhound home and that I was going to be forced to sit next to a crackhead whose hygiene is sub par. They'd probably be eating curry. Or squirrel. Maybe possum. Cut to 6 hours after my first attempt to get in touch with my ride. We finally leave the city limits around 6 and make it to Memphis after what feels like an eternity. Cashville
615: 32 Shannon: 7
I went and got my new phone today and talked to man out of making me pay for my $120 new contract fee. How? I borrowed crutches and gimped in there and made him feel so badly about my weekend that he would do anything to make me happy. $150 later I have a new phone, all my contacts and a little pep in my walk... er... limp? That's 120 to me 150 to them.
615: 182 Shannon: 127
There are a few other stories that I won't mention. I'd like to keep what little dignity I have left over. I say I put up a pretty solid fight. See you next time, Nashville... keep it classy.
Jello shots, moonshine and fireball were a-flowing at the party. We head downtown {jello and fireball in purses, of course}. Before we go into Miss Kelly's the bouncer makes me show him the contents of my purse. The Meathead finds not one, not two - not even three or four but NINE jello shots in my purse. Naturally I step outside and throw them to anyone that looks like someone I know. Meathead is not pleased. He shames the shiiiiiit out of me but I dance my way back to the bar. I'm giving myself one point for my ability to share and the city gets one for le shame.
615: 4 Shannon: 1
Things start to get a little fuzzy. Here's what I know: rumplemintz, whiskey, jello, water {see, I'm responsible}, dancing, schooling some silly boys in the ghetto ways of Coolio, strip club {no need for extra shame here... I got this}, penis tattoo {real life}, closing time?, SEVENTY FIVE DOLLAR cab ride home, getting lost in the apartment complex, sleep? If I added this correctly that's 8 for the 615 and 2 for me. I'm taking one of my points away for going to a strip club. That's fucking gross.
615: 12 Shannon:2
Did I mention that I left my phone in the cab? Or that someone stepped on my broken toe and I wanted to punch them in the genitals and projectile vomit in their face all at the same time? Yup. Sunday morning was rough. REAL rough. I had to find Nashville to use her phone because I didn't know what time my ride was coming through. I don't know my ride's number. Enter panic attack. Through some handy facebooking I found my ride's number but his phone was dead. Seriously - PANIC attack. I was positive that I was going to have to take a greyhound home and that I was going to be forced to sit next to a crackhead whose hygiene is sub par. They'd probably be eating curry. Or squirrel. Maybe possum. Cut to 6 hours after my first attempt to get in touch with my ride. We finally leave the city limits around 6 and make it to Memphis after what feels like an eternity. Cashville
615: 32 Shannon: 7
I went and got my new phone today and talked to man out of making me pay for my $120 new contract fee. How? I borrowed crutches and gimped in there and made him feel so badly about my weekend that he would do anything to make me happy. $150 later I have a new phone, all my contacts and a little pep in my walk... er... limp? That's 120 to me 150 to them.
615: 182 Shannon: 127
There are a few other stories that I won't mention. I'd like to keep what little dignity I have left over. I say I put up a pretty solid fight. See you next time, Nashville... keep it classy.
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