As far as holiday weekends go, this one has blown.
For numerous reasons............which really? Who cares! It's nearly over.
I can tell you that Lynda & I have been in a quasi competition over who has had the shittier weekend.
Lynda won.
She always wins. If winning the title wasn't so pathetic, it would be awesome!
Her weekend included big boobs; rubber balls; ungrateful children; self loathing and dog shit.
Mine paled in comparison. Although I have been working on a seriously awesome Pity Party complex today. It's taken up so much of my time, Marky has run circles of accomplishments around me. Which, of course, just led me to sink farther into said Party out of sheer guilt for not accomplishing anything.
Let's recap:
I did manage to put the toilet cleaner in the toilet bowl.
(I just couldn't get motivated to actually follow up with that chore and scrub the toilet.......)
I pissed away 2 hours on iTunes, uploading new music and downloading some cds that I own. I did, however, manage to find my new theme song for work - DMX's "Party Up". Considering all I do at work of late is yell at attorneys and seriously question why I took this job, the tag line of this song is perfect: Ya'll go make me loose my mind, loose my mind, loose my mind! Ya'll go make me loose my mind, up in here! Up in here!
Hmmmmmm......considering how AWESOME it will be to play this song every time I walk out of court; the sheer joy it will bring me as I listen to the words as they wash over me....... I think this qualifies as an accomplishment.
(Totally self-serving.......but, whatever!)
I did manage to sort all of the laundry today and I've done nothing but move it from basket to washer; washer to dryer; and dryer to basket........... hey look?! That totally counts as "doing" something!
I am currently wearing the $43 flip flops I bought in Vegas- convinced I'd NEVER wear them again.......because really? Where does one wear gold lame~ flip flops, embellished with sparkly leather flowers (flowers so big they belong on a swim cap, circa 1964!)? Apparently, one wears them while waiting for One's toes to dry.
Holy hell! Three more accomplishments!
1. Wearing (shameful) Vegas flip flops (and getting my goddamn monies worth!)
2. Taking the (shamefully) chipped polish off my toes.
3. Applying new, smokin' hot, Opi, Got the Blues for Red polish on!
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand, I just finished my first cocktail- vodka tonic w/ fresh blueberries. This accomplishment alone makes my day complete!
(Still doesn't trump rubber balls and dog shit, though........!)
Monday, May 31, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Whuuuuump! There it is!
I've taken to bed, People.....
With a cocktail.
FINE. With my third cocktail.
So I've taken to bed, with my third cocktail....... and a broken wing.
FINE! A smashed finger.....whatever!
So I've taken to bed, with my third cocktail, a smashed finger, my lap top and a movie.
I'm not sure which is throbbing more: my smashed finger or my head-from having to listen to the Idol finale (Part Two- cause Part One wasn't torture enough?!) that my family is listening to so loudly, it's wafting through the heating vents and into my room! How the hell am I supposed to find sanctuary and comfort when I can hear some tween singing the Bee Gees through my heat vent?
THE BEE GEES!
NO ONE can sing the Bee Gees but the Bee Gees. Hello?
(Favorite Bee Gees song? I'm going to have to go with Tragedy. I can't even say it without instantly singing it: When the feelings gone and you can't go on...it's Tragedy......When you lose control and you got no soul...it's Tragedy!)
(On a Bee Gees related note: one of the BG's recorded a song with Michael Buble~ and it's amazing in its own right. How Can You Mend A Broken Heart.......check it out. It won't disappoint.)
Wait........where was I?
(Michael does that to me........sigh.......)
Right....my finger. Smashed. My left, pointer (How convenient that I fly the International Bird using my right hand? Waaaaaaay convenient!), which I smashed today in the heavy, mahogany filing cabinet in my Judge's office. It's one of those cabinets that roll really slow until the end; then it shuts with a big whuuuuuuump! My finger got caught in the whuuuuump! Which prompted me to yelp, which prompted my Judge to say: Shit! That's gotta hurt.
If the wind had not been knocked out of me, I would have concurred with a hearty F-bomb. Instead, I just mouthed the word.....huge tears welling in my eyes. Apparently I was holding my breath for I can surmise no other reason for my Judge to say: BREATHE.........! So I inhaled deeply and did my best to limit the amount of tears rolling down my cheeks.
Over lunch I iced my finger (read: ate my salad with my right hand while soaking my left pointer in a glass of ice water). Then I put a compression bandage on it (cause I knew that's what Marky would tell me to do) but after 30 minutes my entire hand felt numb and I couldn't type for fear of all the digits on my left hand shattering with each keystroke! So I eighty-sixed the bandage and iced my finger again (read: chicken pecked the keyboard with my right hand while soaking my left pointer in a glass of ice water).
Do you know how hard it is to type with only ONE hand? I managed to fk up every single letter of dictation....one of them three times! I finally sent my Judge home at 3:45p. Apparently just the sight of me, in my pathetic state, was enough for him to begin cocktail hour an hour early!
As I was leaving for the day, I ran into one of my friends. We were catching up on our respective days and I showed off my smashed finger (the nail bed a lovely shade of bluish-grey, with a big ol', black blood blister that ran under the nail, from side to side). I was immediately incensed over the fact that said friend declared my finger "not so bad" and then asked if I'd be "doing a little blogging".
My response: First of all, you should be fawning all over me, telling me how brave I am for having endured such a clearly painful event; and second of all, do you know how fkn hard it is to type with one hand?
Friend: (trying really hard to stifle laughter......at me!) I'm saying, it looks good. It's a compliment to you........Geeeeez! (I may or may not have stuck my tongue out at this point.........) So? Blogging?
To which I replied: Hello? I'm injured here....... I'm totally going to drink!
Insert Friend dissolving into fit of laughter (at me!) and saying: Pfffffffffffffffft! Like you need an excuse?!
Whatever. I totally take comfort in the fact that I'm so predictable.........!
With a cocktail.
FINE. With my third cocktail.
So I've taken to bed, with my third cocktail....... and a broken wing.
FINE! A smashed finger.....whatever!
So I've taken to bed, with my third cocktail, a smashed finger, my lap top and a movie.
I'm not sure which is throbbing more: my smashed finger or my head-from having to listen to the Idol finale (Part Two- cause Part One wasn't torture enough?!) that my family is listening to so loudly, it's wafting through the heating vents and into my room! How the hell am I supposed to find sanctuary and comfort when I can hear some tween singing the Bee Gees through my heat vent?
THE BEE GEES!
NO ONE can sing the Bee Gees but the Bee Gees. Hello?
(Favorite Bee Gees song? I'm going to have to go with Tragedy. I can't even say it without instantly singing it: When the feelings gone and you can't go on...it's Tragedy......When you lose control and you got no soul...it's Tragedy!)
(On a Bee Gees related note: one of the BG's recorded a song with Michael Buble~ and it's amazing in its own right. How Can You Mend A Broken Heart.......check it out. It won't disappoint.)
Wait........where was I?
(Michael does that to me........sigh.......)
Right....my finger. Smashed. My left, pointer (How convenient that I fly the International Bird using my right hand? Waaaaaaay convenient!), which I smashed today in the heavy, mahogany filing cabinet in my Judge's office. It's one of those cabinets that roll really slow until the end; then it shuts with a big whuuuuuuump! My finger got caught in the whuuuuump! Which prompted me to yelp, which prompted my Judge to say: Shit! That's gotta hurt.
If the wind had not been knocked out of me, I would have concurred with a hearty F-bomb. Instead, I just mouthed the word.....huge tears welling in my eyes. Apparently I was holding my breath for I can surmise no other reason for my Judge to say: BREATHE.........! So I inhaled deeply and did my best to limit the amount of tears rolling down my cheeks.
Over lunch I iced my finger (read: ate my salad with my right hand while soaking my left pointer in a glass of ice water). Then I put a compression bandage on it (cause I knew that's what Marky would tell me to do) but after 30 minutes my entire hand felt numb and I couldn't type for fear of all the digits on my left hand shattering with each keystroke! So I eighty-sixed the bandage and iced my finger again (read: chicken pecked the keyboard with my right hand while soaking my left pointer in a glass of ice water).
Do you know how hard it is to type with only ONE hand? I managed to fk up every single letter of dictation....one of them three times! I finally sent my Judge home at 3:45p. Apparently just the sight of me, in my pathetic state, was enough for him to begin cocktail hour an hour early!
As I was leaving for the day, I ran into one of my friends. We were catching up on our respective days and I showed off my smashed finger (the nail bed a lovely shade of bluish-grey, with a big ol', black blood blister that ran under the nail, from side to side). I was immediately incensed over the fact that said friend declared my finger "not so bad" and then asked if I'd be "doing a little blogging".
My response: First of all, you should be fawning all over me, telling me how brave I am for having endured such a clearly painful event; and second of all, do you know how fkn hard it is to type with one hand?
Friend: (trying really hard to stifle laughter......at me!) I'm saying, it looks good. It's a compliment to you........Geeeeez! (I may or may not have stuck my tongue out at this point.........) So? Blogging?
To which I replied: Hello? I'm injured here....... I'm totally going to drink!
Insert Friend dissolving into fit of laughter (at me!) and saying: Pfffffffffffffffft! Like you need an excuse?!
Whatever. I totally take comfort in the fact that I'm so predictable.........!
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Me, Myself & Moi~
Guess who had a game tonight and said game was rained out (again)?
Me!
Guess who's drinking?
Me!
Guess who made fun of the American Idol finale and got her ass ejected from the tv room?
That'd be...........Me!
Guess who planned that outcome perfectly and should now be referred to as The Puppet Master?
Ummmmm.....M-E!
Guess who's going to take her drink and her lap top and retire to bed so that she can watch When Harry Met Sally for the millionth time; in peace and quiet, whilst eating wee-sized Reese's peanut butter cups?
Wait for iiiiiiiiiiiiit....................:
Moi!
Well played, Snarky Brunette.......well played.
Me!
Guess who's drinking?
Me!
Guess who made fun of the American Idol finale and got her ass ejected from the tv room?
That'd be...........Me!
Guess who planned that outcome perfectly and should now be referred to as The Puppet Master?
Ummmmm.....M-E!
Guess who's going to take her drink and her lap top and retire to bed so that she can watch When Harry Met Sally for the millionth time; in peace and quiet, whilst eating wee-sized Reese's peanut butter cups?
Wait for iiiiiiiiiiiiit....................:
Moi!
Well played, Snarky Brunette.......well played.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Mixed Bag
It's been 20 days since my last post.
Where the hell have I been?
Last week, when I was not hating my job & yelling at attorneys, I was recovering from my week in Vegas with KB, Tk & Lo Lo.
(Read: still hungover & utterly sleepwalking.)
The week prior to that, I was IN Vegas engaging in all sorts of Girl's Getaway Shenanigans.
(Girl Friends + Vegas + Alcohol=Shenanigans!)
The week before that, I was running around trying to get ready for my trip to Vegas.....while hating my job, yelling at attorneys & playing baseball.
(Why is it that when you are leaving for vacation, you suddenly become obsessed with the state of your unders and thusly overwhelmed by the need to purchase all new undergarments? And the more match-y match-y, the better?!
Really? No one? It's just me?!)
So given that the last three weeks have been consumed with either being IN or planning FOR or recuperating AFTER Vegas, you'd think that is what I've logged on to talk about.......
Wrong.
Have you been following People.com? Sweet Lord, Baby Jesus! Let's get to it!
First up: LOST.
The series finale aired last night and people are all sorts of wound up over it! I'd like to take this opportunity to assert that I NEVER WATCHED THIS SHOW. And given the fact that in the end, everyone on the show WAS DEAD the entire time (or some shit like that), I'm so freakin' happy I was smart enough to not waste 6 years of my TV viewing life on this fkn show.
I have one word for all the "Losties" out there.........PSYCH!
2. Bret Michaels won Celebrity Apprentice.
This fkn guy was the long shot from day one (I blame his hair extensions....they are shameful!), but week after week, he just kept "a rockin' " (I also blame his vocabulary...... Uh, Bret? This ain't the 80's and you're a grown man.....hello?).
Then, he undergoes an emergency appendectomy.
Followed by a brain hemorrhage (Ouch.).
Only to make a miraculous recovery (while wearing his hair extensions and rockin' a bandana!).....and then suffer a stroke.
Did I mention the poor bastard has a hole in his heart?
This guy puts his ass on a plane, flies to New York, limps into the finale and kicks Holly Robinson- Peete's ass all over Manhattan. All for his charity, the American Diabetes Foundation.
Cuz not only does he have no appendix; is the current owner of a hole-y heart;had his brain explode; and can now identify the signs of stroke onset- Bret Michaels has suffered from Type 1 diabetes his whole life.
Well played, Mr. Michaels.......well played.
3. Simon Monjack is dead.
(People say: Who?)
Simon was the British born, onetime screenwriter, husband of the late actress Brittany Murphy
(Lynda, FFS.....stop crying. She died, like five months ago!). He was also overweight, had a penchant for prescription drugs and rumored to be romantically involved with his mother in law.
a. Eeeeeeewwwwww!
b. Really? No one else saw this guy's demise coming?
(RIP, Simon......I gots love for the Brits.......)
4. Jesse James "wanted" to get caught cheating, but didn't want to hurt his wife.
A few thoughts:
a. Mighta kept those gems to yourself, Jess.....
b. If those were your goals, you're score is 50/50. And you failed that test.
c. You are, however, awarded some bonus points for recognizing that, indeed, you are the most hated man in the world.
I'll end on this note: Duh!, Shocker!, & Nobody Fkn Cares, Kids!
a. Miley Cyrus has announced she's not going to college.
b. Kim Kardashian admits to Botox use.
c. Joe Jonas & Demi Lovato have split.
And to think there are critics out there that actually believe People.com doesn't showcase real journalism...........Pfffffffffffffffffffft!
Where the hell have I been?
Last week, when I was not hating my job & yelling at attorneys, I was recovering from my week in Vegas with KB, Tk & Lo Lo.
(Read: still hungover & utterly sleepwalking.)
The week prior to that, I was IN Vegas engaging in all sorts of Girl's Getaway Shenanigans.
(Girl Friends + Vegas + Alcohol=Shenanigans!)
The week before that, I was running around trying to get ready for my trip to Vegas.....while hating my job, yelling at attorneys & playing baseball.
(Why is it that when you are leaving for vacation, you suddenly become obsessed with the state of your unders and thusly overwhelmed by the need to purchase all new undergarments? And the more match-y match-y, the better?!
Really? No one? It's just me?!)
So given that the last three weeks have been consumed with either being IN or planning FOR or recuperating AFTER Vegas, you'd think that is what I've logged on to talk about.......
Wrong.
Have you been following People.com? Sweet Lord, Baby Jesus! Let's get to it!
First up: LOST.
The series finale aired last night and people are all sorts of wound up over it! I'd like to take this opportunity to assert that I NEVER WATCHED THIS SHOW. And given the fact that in the end, everyone on the show WAS DEAD the entire time (or some shit like that), I'm so freakin' happy I was smart enough to not waste 6 years of my TV viewing life on this fkn show.
I have one word for all the "Losties" out there.........PSYCH!
2. Bret Michaels won Celebrity Apprentice.
This fkn guy was the long shot from day one (I blame his hair extensions....they are shameful!), but week after week, he just kept "a rockin' " (I also blame his vocabulary...... Uh, Bret? This ain't the 80's and you're a grown man.....hello?).
Then, he undergoes an emergency appendectomy.
Followed by a brain hemorrhage (Ouch.).
Only to make a miraculous recovery (while wearing his hair extensions and rockin' a bandana!).....and then suffer a stroke.
Did I mention the poor bastard has a hole in his heart?
This guy puts his ass on a plane, flies to New York, limps into the finale and kicks Holly Robinson- Peete's ass all over Manhattan. All for his charity, the American Diabetes Foundation.
Cuz not only does he have no appendix; is the current owner of a hole-y heart;had his brain explode; and can now identify the signs of stroke onset- Bret Michaels has suffered from Type 1 diabetes his whole life.
Well played, Mr. Michaels.......well played.
3. Simon Monjack is dead.
(People say: Who?)
Simon was the British born, onetime screenwriter, husband of the late actress Brittany Murphy
(Lynda, FFS.....stop crying. She died, like five months ago!). He was also overweight, had a penchant for prescription drugs and rumored to be romantically involved with his mother in law.
a. Eeeeeeewwwwww!
b. Really? No one else saw this guy's demise coming?
(RIP, Simon......I gots love for the Brits.......)
4. Jesse James "wanted" to get caught cheating, but didn't want to hurt his wife.
A few thoughts:
a. Mighta kept those gems to yourself, Jess.....
b. If those were your goals, you're score is 50/50. And you failed that test.
c. You are, however, awarded some bonus points for recognizing that, indeed, you are the most hated man in the world.
I'll end on this note: Duh!, Shocker!, & Nobody Fkn Cares, Kids!
a. Miley Cyrus has announced she's not going to college.
b. Kim Kardashian admits to Botox use.
c. Joe Jonas & Demi Lovato have split.
And to think there are critics out there that actually believe People.com doesn't showcase real journalism...........Pfffffffffffffffffffft!
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Who's on First?
Here's what I know:
1. I haven't had a cocktail since last Friday. And prior to that, I hadn't had a cocktail in a week!
(People say, "Whaaaaaaaat?")
That particular cocktail knocked me on my ass.
FINE! It's was five cocktails.
And I totally blame KB.
(IM-ing and sharing cocktail hour with KB apparently makes me DRUNK!)
2. We won our third game tonight. It took an inning or two for our players to settle down, but once they got in the groove, they were on fire! And speaking of fire, this Coach almost lit one under the opposing team's field coach.
Who called my player out.
Even tho he was safe by like........... a mile!
I turned to my Score Keeper to make sure I wasn't just A Chick Who Don't Know Ball, and I got the Kid was Safe nod. Which prompted me to yell: TIE GOES TO THE RUNNER, COACH!, as I'm heading out of the dugout. Which prompted Mark to give me The Look.
I hate The Look. It means I'm supposed to simmer down; or shut my yap. Or both.
In this particular instance it meant both. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand, it was a reminder that we promote Good Sportsmanship and I had 9 players with their eyes on me.
(insert me doing my best Napoleon Dynamite impression:) Uuuuuuuuuuuugh!
So I called my player off first.
And then I whipped out my tiny phone and fired off a text to Mark, who was standing on the pitcher's mound: These Coaches are LOONS! Are you kidding me with that call?
Mark's response: Our own Coach called him out.....that's why I waved you off......
To which I yelled from the dugout: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
The Snarky Brunette gets major points for the following:
1. Not pouring myself a cocktail the minute I got home from the game.
2. Not kicking the ass of my own Coach.
3. Practicing the art of Sportsmanship, even though at times......... it totally blows!
1. I haven't had a cocktail since last Friday. And prior to that, I hadn't had a cocktail in a week!
(People say, "Whaaaaaaaat?")
That particular cocktail knocked me on my ass.
FINE! It's was five cocktails.
And I totally blame KB.
(IM-ing and sharing cocktail hour with KB apparently makes me DRUNK!)
2. We won our third game tonight. It took an inning or two for our players to settle down, but once they got in the groove, they were on fire! And speaking of fire, this Coach almost lit one under the opposing team's field coach.
Who called my player out.
Even tho he was safe by like........... a mile!
I turned to my Score Keeper to make sure I wasn't just A Chick Who Don't Know Ball, and I got the Kid was Safe nod. Which prompted me to yell: TIE GOES TO THE RUNNER, COACH!, as I'm heading out of the dugout. Which prompted Mark to give me The Look.
I hate The Look. It means I'm supposed to simmer down; or shut my yap. Or both.
In this particular instance it meant both. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand, it was a reminder that we promote Good Sportsmanship and I had 9 players with their eyes on me.
(insert me doing my best Napoleon Dynamite impression:) Uuuuuuuuuuuugh!
So I called my player off first.
And then I whipped out my tiny phone and fired off a text to Mark, who was standing on the pitcher's mound: These Coaches are LOONS! Are you kidding me with that call?
Mark's response: Our own Coach called him out.....that's why I waved you off......
To which I yelled from the dugout: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
The Snarky Brunette gets major points for the following:
1. Not pouring myself a cocktail the minute I got home from the game.
2. Not kicking the ass of my own Coach.
3. Practicing the art of Sportsmanship, even though at times......... it totally blows!
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