Archive | January, 2013

Protected: Prof. Singleton

31 Jan

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Taste the stink

30 Jan

You know what’s horrible? I mean truly horrible? When you walk into the restroom and someone dropped a deuce so stinky that it forces you to mouth breathe. Only it’s even worse when it’s so stinky that you can taste it when you mouth breathe.

I’m traumatized!! Can’t get the taste out of my mouth!! Nor the smell from my nose. It’s like I’m drowning in the smell.

On top of it all I feel like the stink has attached to me and I smell like poo.

Protected: Admit It

28 Jan

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Yay! Nay!

28 Jan

The battle against my massive muffin top has been going quite well.  My thighs are no longer threatening to bust the seems of my pants.  No longer can you notice every last dimple of my ass in my pants.  My Spanx are enjoying a well earned vacation.  Best of all?  My stomach doesn’t have the permanent indent from my buttons any longer.  Bye bye fat!

Yesterday, for the first time in about 8 months, I wore my skinny jeans out of the house.  Fit like a glove – in a good way.  Not one of those squeeze into it and if it zips it fits things.  No no, they actually looked good!  Best jeans ever.  EVER!  They’re the jeans that I always receive compliments on.  It’s as if Houdini himself made them, because what they do to my ass is magic.  Have had them for about three years and have taken such good care of them.  They’ve lasted me longer than any other jeans, most likely because the second I gain 10 pounds I can’t wear them any more.  The inner thighs are starting to wear, but they still look GREAT!


After a long day of prancing around in my jeans, it was finally time to take a little rest.  Had my dinner ready to go and plopped down on the couch.  For some reason I always sit Indian style – or crisscross apple sauce as they say in schools now.  What the fuck is that about?  How can you get apple sauce to go crisscross?  Really?  Anyway, my ass hit the couch, my legs went into their favorite state and that’s when I heard and felt the horrible RIP of the left inner thigh of my jeans.


Life sucks.  I’m going to go eat something I shouldn’t be eating.

Of This I Am Sure

27 Jan

At 39, I’ve come to know certain things about myself.

  • I prefer dogs to cats.
  • I hate dancing.
  • I have zero tolerance for Christian Fundamentalists.
  • I would never tolerate someone hitting me.
  • I’m always going to be a few pounds overweight.
  • I will never like beans.  Or the Yankees.

Yesterday, I learned another valuable lesson: I am not cut out to ride the bus.  I learned this lesson the hard way.

In an effort to save a few bucks, I decided to buy a round trip bus ticket from Philadelphia to New York City.  In the past I’ve taken the train – a very enjoyable trip.  This year, however, my desire to become slightly more frugal led me down the bad path of choosing Bolt Bus over Amtrak.  Quite possibly one of the dumbest decisions I’ve ever made – even more stupid than dating Hairy McBacksweat.

For those of you who don’t live in the North East, let me tell you that yesterday was freezing cold.  There is nothing like standing on a sidewalk, in line, for over an hour, while you will your feet not to freeze.  All I could think about was how it was clear to me why homeless people do so many drugs, clearly it’s the only way they can keep warm in the shitty temperatures.  Drugs are really bad, but at least they numb you from the pain of cold weather.  The damn bus was running an HOUR late, yet it didn’t occur to Bolt Bus to notify anyone.

When the bus finally arrived, the bus driver just stared at us while he talked on his cell phone.  He made us wait an extra 15 minutes.  Not quite sure who was talking to because he’s not exactly the type of guy with a charming personality.  Imagine a sack of potatoes, now add a pair of glasses, and remove any semblance of personality.  That’s who this guy was.

Once he opened the doors and started letting us in, he was extremely rude to some of the passengers.  One old lady was having difficulty getting up the stairs and he told her to “Hurry up! There are people waiting behind you!”  Seriously, dude?

If only that had been the end of it all…

Once on the bus we all noticed it smelled like the inside of the toilet.  Smell was beyond disgusting.  As we started pulling away the bus driver came on over the loud speaker and told us if we had any more complaints about the smell to take it up with Bolt Bus because there was nothing he could do about it.  He then went on to inform us that the bus had been in the bay and was scheduled for a clean up but they hadn’t had a chance to get anything done.

The ordeal was so fucking terrible, in fact, that within my first five minutes on the bus I was online purchasing an Amtrak ticket for my trip home.

Two Girls One Cup – Or One Girl Two Sofa Cushions

25 Jan

Apparently I’m doing drugs at some point during the day because my dreams this week have gone into an entirely new realm of weird.  We’re talking Georgio A Tsoukalas from “Ancient Aliens” weird.

His hair is a perfect visual representation of the craziness of my dreams.  One minute I’m playing baseball in a hotel room – only there’s no baseball, we’re using a spaghetti squash.  Then the next minute I’m having a perfectly nice afternoon at my sister’s house, surrounded by my family, and I’m pooping in between her couch cushions.  Yeah, that’s right – we’re in the middle of the conversation and I just pooed in her living room.  And know what?  No one noticed.  Meanwhile, I’m left with the decision of what to do with all that remains.  I couldn’t just leave it there!!  That would be wrong, but apparently taking a dump in her couch in the middle of a conversation wasn’t?  So what did I do?  I reached behind me, scooped it up and kind of hid it in the folds of my very beautiful blue skirt.  After that we’re off for a walk in the dessert and I’m throwing my poop behind me.

Um, what?

Why can’t I have some amazing dream where there’s a naked Bradley Cooper, or where Ryan Gosling’s penis appears?  Or maybe I’m dating royalty and I have access to seeing Prince Harry’s naked ass when ever I want to?  NOOOOOO!  Instead I’m dreaming of pooping between couch cushions.

Can’t even begin to imagine what that possibly means.

I hate myself just a little bit

24 Jan

…for wanting to look like Hayden Panettiere.

I’m going to blame all the sparkly dresses and high heels in “Nashville”.

Let’s never talk about this again.

What the hell kind of spam is that??

23 Jan

I get the Rolex watches, and the phishing for money, and the Viagra, and even some of the other drugs.  But what the hell kind of spam message is this??

You can buy the mixes and the muffins on line at their website. I buy them by the case because I make them a lot.

Really?  Does someone fall for this?  Is there really a market for buying muffin mix and muffins on line?

It’s moments like this – and the ones where I’m watching “Toddlers and Tiaras” – when I question what the hell is happening to humanity.