Back to blogging, I suppose

Ah yes, as my baby brother pointed out, I’ve had a very long break from blogging.  40-some odd days to be specific.  For that I would like to apologize!  I’ve been a busy little bee for the past few months, working my ass off at DISA, going to school,  pulling amazing grades, and yes…..getting a boyfriend.

Yes I REALIZE my last post was about how I didn’t need a boyfriend and how I was perfectly happy being single, and all of those statements are still true, but I’ve found a pretty fantastic dude to spend some time with.  (To be fair we started dating in July and I JUST became a girlfriend, so I held off as long as I could. )  His name is Conor, and he’s fabulous, but that story is for another day.  (And if he knew I was blogging about him he’d probably flip.)

THIS post is going to be about something very near and dear to my heart: bad dressers.  I don’t consider myself to be a fashionista of any sort, but I can tell when something looks good, and when something looks GOD AWFUL STUPID.  Summer tends to bring out the crazies, so there are plenty of opportunities to people watch and catch some crimes in the act.  Here are some of my favorites:

Scarves in the summer:

Trying to keep warm, eh?

Trying to keep warm, eh?

Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii’m sorry, isn’t the basic function of a scarf to keep yourself warm?  Correct me if I’m wrong there.  I will NEVER understand sitting at a 100 degree baseball game, and looking over and seeing a boho wannabe bia-tch sitting there with her stupid summer scarf.  I sort of want to choke her with it.

The color “salmon”

Boys, I'm just gonna say it.  Salmon = pink

Boys, I'm just gonna say it. Salmon = pink

When girls have a tramp stamp, they are automatically categorized as a hussy.  When men wear ANYTHING in the color salmon, its practically a “douche” nametag.  I was at SubZero in the CWE last weekend and there was a guy wearing salmon colored shorts, a white polo WITH HIS COLLAR POPPED, and (seriously) penny loafers.  Boys?  I can ALMOST get on board with a pale pink shirt here and there, but I’m sorry, salmon is unacceptable.

ENORMOUS purses

Coming soon: back problems

Coming soon: back problems

There are all sorts of things that are bad for women that I can still get on board with.  Wearing flip flops for hours on end, the occasional tanning session, paying $50 for a haircut….all fine.  But WHY would ANY woman EVER need a purse this big?!  What could you possibly need to carry with you at all times that would take up this much space?  Even baby bags need not be this big.  I’m telling you ladies, this is NOT ok.

Socks with Sandals

No further explanation needed

No further explanation needed

Douchey T-Shirts:

ed hardy douche

affliction doucheAh yes, Ed Hardy and Affliction t-shirts….reminds me a lot of the Von Dutch movement while I was in high school.  I was at the Drunken Fish and caught a glimpse of the DJ…he was wearing a RHINESTONE PEACOCK Ed Hardy T-Shirt. Seriously?  He was looking through racks of clothes and saw THAT shirt and said “Ohhhh yeah, I’d look GREAT in that!!”

I could seriously go on for days here…cutoff shorts with the pockets hanging out the bottom, Ugg boots (ANY time of the year,) overly teased hair bumps, wearing white socks with dress shoes, blatant knock-off purses, girls that wear tube tops with a regular bra (I don’t like strapless bras either but sometimes they are necessary…suck it up!)

So there it is, sorry this post isn’t more fantastic, I feel like my return to blogging should have been more dramatic….fireworks and all that.  Maybe next time, so stay tuned 😉

~B

SYTYCD, why have I not been watching this?!

Hello sportsfans!  Once again I will spare you the whole “Ohhh I’m so sorry I didn’t blog for a few weeks” because I’m sure you don’t wanna hear it, and lets face it…I’m not sorry 😉

First, if you don’t know me very well, I should tell you that I love dance.  I love watching dance, choreographing, juking at the club, and can’t stop myself from at least bouncing my foot when a good song comes on.  I was on my dance team in HS and danced a bit in college with my sorority, but I have very little knowledge of classical technique.  However, I can still figure out how to do most moves, and can still tell when something looks good and when it doesn’t.

I am ashamed to admit I’ve been slow to jump on the show So You Think You Can Dance, for reasons I’ve only started to realize.  I never had my very own DVR until last month, so the whole “fast forward through stuff I don’t wanna see” concept was completely lost on me.  Since getting my own place and shelling out the extra cheddar for a DVR, I can now finally get into this show the way I always know I should.  First of all, commercials suck, and the ones on Fox are especially bad.  Yes, I know the average woman is a size 14/16, and that the media sucks and only portrays skinny women, but even as a plus sized gal myself, I STILL don’t want to watch “More to Love.”  If a chubby girl doesn’t want to watch a show about other chubby girls finding their prince charming, you have a problem.

And OH. MY. GOD, lets talk about Mary Murphy for a minute!  The woman is literally bat-shit crazy, I don’t know how she still has a job.  Yes, she’s a ballroom expert, and yes every once in a while she’ll be able to give a good critique on partnering style, but for the most part, she is only known for her botox face and her “hot tamale” train screams.  I would rather watch Paula Abdul blither on and on about a singer’s triumphant essence of musicality (or whatever,) than listen to Ms. Murphy scream one more time.

But man oh man, this show is good.  I get to watch half naked men prance around and flex their ridiculous, insane, beautiful muscles.  (And yes, I’m aware that probably 75% of them are gay, but honestly….who cares?!)  And the girls!!  Watching a girl out-dance her partner in nearly EVERY SINGLE ROUTINE just rocks.  I mean it, watch the show again, is it just me or do you watch the girl the entire time?  The men are mostly muscley props who are supposed to catch the beautiful, sexy dancing girl.  The themes are fantastic, the choreographers are inventive, and I get to see the cute/crazy outfits Cat wears every week!

Now my experience is pretty limited, but this season seems pretty stellar.  True, the bulk of the top 20 were modern dancers (I would have loved to see a few more hip-hoppers or ballroom,) but they’re all so incredibly talented.  Kupono made me want to do the no pants dance with both his addiction and vampire pieces,  Ade’s hair pick ofen makes me forget how amazing and strong his moves are, Evan makes me want to pinch his cheeks, I want to scrub my clothes on Jason’s tummy, Brandon shouldn’t be allowed to wear clothes and Melissa’s body is UNREAL.  My three faves this season are Kayla, Jeanine and Janette,  girls who honestly can do NO WRONG.  Kayla honestly nails every single move she hits, you can just see that she is aware of every single inch of her body, her control is INSANE.  (And how cute are her grandparents?!) Jeanine makes me want to bat for the other team, I’ll just come right out and say it, and as much as I loved Phillip, her brilliance was wasted being partnered with him.  And Janette’s Miami/salsa hips can do no wrong. (Does it blow your mind that she is a ballroom dancer?  She’s so versatile!)  I seriously hope it comes down to the three of these girls, they’re both so insanely talented I can barely stand it.

And the choreography!  I was moved to tears by two pieces, addiction (Kayla and Kupono) and breast cancer (Ade and Melissa.)  I seriously sat alone in my living room and bawled, they were so powerful and moving.  Other greats include a female alien impregnating the last man on earth, a zombie turning a schoolgirl into his zombie mistress, an entire routine dedicated to Randi’s ass, couch jumping, chains, heart lockets, knocked up girlfriends, vampires, and so so so so so much more.

So there you have it, I am fully obsessed with SYTYCD, and I’m not ashamed to say it.  I am SO sorry if you’re one of my blog readers and you don’t watch it, cuz this was probably really boring for you to read.  (But maybe it will inspire you to start watching it?)  Honestly I can say I’ll be really into this show for a very long time…

…just as long as my DVR keeps working, cuz no amount of dancing brilliance is worth Mary Murphy’s friggin siren song.

I'm sexy, I dance, I live in Hawaii, and I design my own clothes.  You know you want this.

I'm sexy, I dance, I live in Hawaii, and I design my own clothes. You know you want this.

…Apparently you just run!

I think it’s pretty common for most bloggers to end up taking really long breaks from posting, then fiiiinally write that they were “sooooooo busy” and all that…I’m not gonna do that to you guys.  I’ve been mid-level busy, and would have plenty of time to write, but every time I sat down to write something, nothing came out as disconnected, not funny crap.  In all honesty it was probably fine, but I’m sort of a blog prefectionist, so forgive me.  Hopefully this post will make up for all that 🙂

So this morning, I ran 3.1 miles for no good reason.  The All-Star game is in STL this week, and as part of the festivities there was a 5k run to raise money for cancer awareness.  I did a 5k in April with my family which was tons O’ fun, so I decided to try it again.

During the Illinois Marathon/5k, it was a huge wakeup call for me.  I’ve been bad about working out since….well, forever.  I was just never one of those girls that “didn’t feel like myself unless I hit the gym!” or thrives off these so-called endorphins I’ve heard so much about.  I hate being hot, my face gets all puffy and flushed, and gyms make me cringe.  And honestly?  My biggest deterrent to working out is having to wash my hair.  Blowdrying my hair is like my least favorite thing on the planet, quite often its a dealbreaker.

I’m one of those people who can’t function and get things done when I don’t have a deadline staring me in the face, and I wasn’t able to get myself running “just because,” I had to have a reason.  The 5k was my reason, I knew I would be running with 4 other people who were pretty athletic, so my goal was not to embarrass myself in front of them.

My training was pretty minimal, I must admit.  I didn’t own an mp3 player until very recently, so I would run, and run, and run….and just want to stop cuz I was tired of listening to my own panting and feet slapping the ground.  The music TOTALLY helps, btw, and so far my favorite pump up song has been JAI HO!!!!!

For this run, I had to upgrade my shoes.  I had the audacity to purchase Nike Cross Trainers 6 months ago, and couldn’t believe the looks of horror on my friends faces when I admitted it.  (Who knew Nike made such piss-poor athletic shoes?  I sure didn’t.  Just do it, indeed.)  I purchased a pair of New Balances, and I swear to you they are my “magic shoes.” (Melanie said they’d take me anywhere!)

So the big day arrived, and we headed downtown for the big run. (Bright and mother effing early, too.  We got on the metro at 6:15…ouch.)  There were about 8,000 runners, and we took to the streets of downtown STL.  (PS, please someone explain to Geoff that it is NOT cool to wear the All-Star 5k shirt to run in the actual event.  He doesn’t believe me.)  I think its like wearing a Nsync T-shirt to an NSync concert.  (First band that popped into my head, honest to God.)

So I’m running, and I’m running, and I’m running.  I’m thinking alright, I’m about to approach the 1 mile marker….I see a sign ahead, and it reads “.5 mile marker.”  WTF?!  Stupid running.  All of my “Oh I’m ready for this” feelings fly right out the window, and suddenly I’m in FML mode.

After many gradual hills, dodging a few runners + dogs and/or strollers, trying to outrun the smelly kid who kept running next to me, marveling at the dudes who were pretty much lapping me, running a 5k in a dead sprint, and listening to Jai Ho a whopping total of 3 times, I finished!!  I did have to walk part of it, but honestly I ‘m ok with that.  3 miles is a lot for me, and I mean a LOT, so I can’t feel too bad about my performance.  I beat my old 5k time by a whopping 24 seconds, but since my goal was to improve upon my time, I will call that one a success!

So since I’m sure I’ll need another deadline to keep me “yogging,” there will be surely other events in my future.  And also, I will be working out a LOT more lately, so I’ll keep you updated on my progress.  (I’m not gonna do a big whole series, posting my updated weight every week and stuff like that, but I’ll surely let you know about the ridiculousness that is the workout scene.)

And now, after taking 2 naps today, I’m off to bed.  Life, my friends, is good.  Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.  🙂

Is that a snake on your doormat, or are you just happy to see me?

So anyone who reads my blog regularly should know that I’ve been having slight pest problems with Fally.  I went through and thoroughly sprayed every inch of my floorboards with bug spray, and happily I’ve seen less and less creepy crawlers.  (Either they’re staying away, or they’re just doing a better job of hiding.)

So last night I came home from hitting up the bars on Washington Avenue in STL, walked into my apartment complex, and saw it:

Seriously...WTF?

Seriously...WTF?

Let’s take a closer look, shall we?

SNAKE STOPPER!?!?

SNAKE STOPPER!?!?

So now apparently my apartment has snakes.  There was a piece of paper shoved under my door that said “In an effort to address the complaints from tenants, we are doing the following: shovel will be left at each building along with “Snake Stopper” snake repellent to remedy problem”

So let me get this straight….

We need to spread this Snake Stopper stuff around, but if a snake somehow gets through….we are to beat it to death with a shovel?!

My life is ridiculous.

(And yes, I realize that’s PROBABLY not what its for, but its way funnier this way.)

I’m the Michael Phelps of Slacking

If being a slacker/procrastinator was an Olympic sport, I would be on the front of Sports Illustrated, in nothing but 8 gold medals and banana hammock.

Dream big kids, dream big

Dream big kids, dream big

No, seriously.

I’m taking a grad school class right now, which is sad for two reasons.  #1: It is SUMMER and I’ve always been able to avoid taking a summer class.  #2: I don’t enjoy going to school/going to class/studying/paying $200 for a textbook that I’ll probably just use to hold a bug under a cup.

Taking a class during the summer is possibly the most depressing thing there is.  I get home from work, play with my dog for .5 seconds, then head riiiiight back to base.  This depresses me more than that Hallmark commercial with the old lady checking the mailbox.  This week was my first test, which gave me the opportunity to WOW my professor with my memorization/application skills.  I was given a full-blown study guide, broken down including what page I could find each answer on.  You would think I would have run out of reasons not to study.

And you would be wrong.  I managed to leave everything to the last minute, staying up till the wee small hours of the morning, trying to memorize “the definition of organizational socialization and understanding what is at stake.”  The test was today, and in all honesty I think I did just fine, but I often wonder how well I could do if I ACTUALLY put in the effort I should.

However, I’ve already mentioned my mad skills.  Back in college, Nicole and I lived together, and if anyone could compete with me in the slacking department, it would be her.  She and I, together, coined our very own catch phrase:

“What Would Nicole and Brenda Do?”

We had an over- studious roommate named Nikki, and she would often try to retire to her room to study/read…you know, responsible school things.  We would try to convince her to stay downstairs, drink some beer, watch movies, play with Rydell (our rabbit,) etc, by shouting “DON’T STUDY!!  WHAT WOULD NICOLE AND BRENDA DO?!” She was impervious to our persuasion! On one particularly boring finals week, Nikki was upstairs studying like a good girl, and Nicole and I were “studying” in the living room.  She was disturbed by some strange sounds coming from downstairs, so she crept down the stairs to investigate.  This is what she saw:

"California Dreamin', on such a winter's DAAAAAAAAAAY"

"California Dreamin', on such a winter's DAAAAAAAAAAY"

Karaoke revolution at 2:00am instead of studying? Always a good decision.

Brenda + Bugs = lack of sleep

So here I am, living in my very first one bedroom apartment!!  Moving was uneventful, really, I was super prepared and had everything all packed up and ready to go, and my helpful moving crew (aka grumbling family,) were fantastic help.  If you’re wondering why my family is grumbling….well that’s because I’ve moved SEVEN TIMES in TWO YEARS.  How is that possible, you say?  Let me break it down for you.

1. Moved from ISU to my parents’ house

2. Moved from parents’ house to Mel and Phil’s duplex.

3.Moved from duplex to Mel and Phil’s new house

4. Moved from house to apartment in Clayton

5. Moved from Clayton to Rico and Christina’s house

6. Moved from Rico and Christina’s to house in Benton Park

7. Moved from Benton Park to Fally.

My parents told me if I didn’t stay in this place for a few years, they WERE going to kill me.  Can’t really say I blame them.

So moving day had finally arrived!  My parents drove from Philo with the rest of my stuff, and met me at the new place with their SUV and a trailer.  Who knew that I had so much crap?

So we unloaded everything, went to Benton Park, packed up the rest of my belongings (how I ever fit so much stuff into one room was completely beyond me.)  The happy unpacking process began.  (And my grumbling movers started to cheer up.)  Please notice Sadie in the corner, not having it.

Fun movers

So in unpacking my stuff, I realized I own WAY TOO MANY black tank tops, but not nearly enough groceries.  I have a huge pantry, so I decided to spread out the stuff so it looked more impressive.

No bread, but 36 Snack Packs

No bread, but 36 Snack Packs

So after the movers left, and I put away all my stuff, I went to bed, dreaming of all the sweetness this apartment would bring.  Little did I know, evil was lurking in the shadows.

I woke up the next morning to let my dog outside, and lo and behold, what do I see crawling across my lovely beige carpet?  A BEETLE. And not just any beetle, the most annoying beetle on the planet, the June Bug: a dive bombing, refuse to die, annoying flying bug that stalked me while I worked at 4-H Camp all those summers ago.  I tried to remain calm (ahem, jumped up on the couch screaming “EW EW EW”) and realized I couldn’t smash this guy on the carpet…I don’t own a vacuum yet!  So I did what any logical girl would do.  I put a cup on top of it.  And when that didn’t seem secure enough, I put a book on top of that.  I wish I was kidding

DO NOT WANT

DO NOT WANT

The book on top?  “A Modern Girl’s Guide To Life.”   I clearly need to re-read the chapter about owning your home, titled “Aggh! What’s that Crawling Across the Floor?”  (Actual chapter title.)  I left the cup/book combo there while I went to work, so I could get up the nerve to actually kill the damn thing.

I realized if this HUGE bug made its way into my pad, there must be smaller ones lurking around.  I went to the scariest place for a bug to be: right above my bed.  Sure enough, I found 3 little tiny baby spiders just chilling, waiting to drop on me in my sleep.  Since my biggest fear in life (and reoccurring dream,) is to have a spider drop on me while I’m sleeping, these needed dealt with immediately.  So I grabbed the closest bug killing device I could find: my dust-buster.  Sure enough this worked like a CHARM, and I went around and sucked up all the little bugs I could find.  I somehow doubt this actually killed the bugs, now they’re just living inside the filter of my dust-buster, angry at me.  An alarming thought, I’ll make my dad clean it out next time he comes to visit.

So after work, I went to Home Depot and went straight to the “Pest Control” aisle, where I bought the BIGGEST can of Ortho Home Defense I could find.  $5.00 for the spray it yourself kind, $13.00 for the kind with the automatic sprayer.  I thought “Oh my apartment is pretty small, I’m sure I can handle the manual sprayer.”  One hour and one tired arm later….I’ll be springing for the automatic sprayer in the future.  I sprayed every INCH of the door frames, windows, and wood trim, so hopefully that will prevent any more creepy crawlers from trying to ruin my good time.

If not, well maybe my family would be down for move #8….no?

Got my ass squeezed by sexy cupid?

I’m sorry, but “I wanna take a ride on your disco stick” is THE greatest lyric Lady Gaga has produced.  If you haven’t heard “LoveGame” yet, get on it.  It’s life-changing.

So anyway…..today I wrote a massive check to Century Development for the first and last month’s rent, and they handed over a shiny new key to my snazzy 1bedroom apartment.  (Well technically they gave me two keys.  WTF do I do with the 2nd one?  Put it under the welcome mat?  Sell it to the highest bidder?  Post it on Craigslist under “casual encounters?”)  This week has consisted of nothing more than packing, cleaning, and looking through my closet, only to realize I wear about 10% of my wardrobe…the rest should probably be burned. (Seriously B, do you really need those wing-tip grandma heels?  Or, better question, why didn’t someone try to stop me when I bought them?!)

The closet at my new place (I’m going to just refer to the new apartment as “Fally” cuz it’s in O’Fallon and “my new apartment” is just way too many syllables,) is MASSIVE.  Seriously, it’s about 5ft x 10ft (ish), and sometimes when I open the door to it, the angels start singing and sun breaks through the clouds and I swear God himself gets jealous.  So I moved alllll of my hanging clothes, hung them in Fally’s closet, and surveyed the damage.  Turns out my clothes aren’t even going to fill up half of this thing.  Two options: have a half empty closet, or go buy an insane amount of clothes to fill it up.  Or I suppose I could just start hanging up my socks and underwear.

So I decided to go to Walmart tonight and stock up on some essentials.  Microwave, welcome mat, silverware, paper towels, etc.  It’s amazing how fast $200 adds up.  As I was roaming through the aisles at Wally World, I got to experience some child abuse first-hand, which was lovely.  A woman dragged her daughter into the aisle of the bath towels, and said “imma gon’ hit you!!” then smacked her across the face.   Special!  I got home and put away all the stuff I bought, and literally the place looked no different, minus the “clock that occasionally cooks shit.”  (If you can name that quote I might give you Fally’s 2nd key.)  I then sat with my back against the wall in the living room and tried to imagine where my furniture would go.  And by furniture, I mean TV, ugly twin sized fouton, and TV trays.  The possibilities are limitless, I tell you.

So god only knows when I’ll have Fally’s internet set up, so this might be the last post for a bit.  I’m going to be relying on Charter to give me the hookup, so hopefully I don’t kill one of their CSR’s in the process.  (For those in the industry, that stands for customer service representative…or in Charter’s case, craptastic sucky representatives.)

So I hope everyone had a fantastic May, and you’ve got an even better June ahead of you.  Fally’s got a pool, so if you want to come swim give me a holla, dawg.  It’s also got a small pond and gazeebo, so if you go want to take some fake senior pics I’d be down for that too.

“…Now, just imagine you’re weightless, in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by tiny little seahorses…”

Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii don’t wanna work

So I’m getting ready to start my new job at Scott AFB.  True, I just started there 5 months ago, but I’m transitioning to a student position.  I’ll be sitting in the same desk, doing the same exact thing, but my title will change and I’ll get an insane amount of sick days.  Oh, and I’ll be telling military veterans that have worked on base for years and years how to do their job, so that should be neat.  I’ve already been dubbed “The Ticket Goober.”  So I’m going through the process of quitting one job and starting another, so I’m beginning the painful task of filling out tax forms, benefits, etc.  So I started thinking about all of the different jobs I’ve had:

Working in the fields, Famous Barr, 4-H Camp, ISU Housing, Bed Bath and Beyond, Enterprise, Coach, and now Scott…..wow it’s been a really boring and crappy ride.  So I started thinking about all the careers I dreamed about as a kid, and I got a kick out of realizing how far off I really was.

Dream Job #1:  Nun. I went to a Catholic grade school and thought being a Nun would be just about the coolest thing there ever was.  I decided I would also have a black sports car, so I would be a “cool nun.”  This dream was short lived, probably when I realized that whole “celibacy” thing.

Dream Job #2: Singer. Since 1st grade, I’ve been a shameless glory hog, so being in the spotlight at all times really seemed like an ideal career path for me.  I sang “Part of Your World” at the 1st grade talent show, and “A Whole New World.”  In both talent shows, I wore a bikini top and obnoxiously long hair.  I was NOT a skinny child, so whoever decided to dress me up in those outfits (cough MOM cough) needs a stern talking to.  I realized this wouldn’t end up being my career when I started losing my voice every single weekend from simply talking.  However, I still can belt out a killer “Dooooon’t stop.  Beliiiiieeeeving.”

Dream Job #3: Actress. When the singing thing didn’t work out, I decided to try my hand at acting.  I tried out for every play imaginable, from Peter Pan to Midsummer Night’s Dream.  In my mind I was a fantaaaaaastic actress, but in reality I was only ok.  I even went to a friggin talent search in Champaign and got told I was not what they were looking for.  I cried for about 30 minutes and got over it.  (I bet Meryl Streep got turned down at some point in her life, too.)

Dream Job #4: Photographer. I was in high school, and college was rapidly approaching.  I was trying to figure out what the eff I wanted to do with my life, and found myself being drawn to Photography.  I looked into the art program at ISU, and saw that I would have to take an insane amount of drawing/sculpting classes in order to major in Photography.  Since pretty much the only thing I can draw is some bubble letters and a bunny sitting backwards, this was not the path for me.

Dream Job #4: Marketing/Marketer/something to do with Marketing that wasn’t Sales. So I decided to go to ISU and majored in Business, which I don’t regret one tiny bit.  I started out as Business Administration, then added a 2nd major that was the perfect fit for me….Marketing.  My future was set, I saw long lunches and glamorous product launches in my future.  Creating advertising campaigns for beer, diamonds, sporting teams, etc, it was gonna be GREAT!  Well sadly these jobs don’t actually exist outside of movies and TV shows.  When someone tells you they have a “Marketing Opportunity,” it’s actually code for “Cold Calling/Door to door sales.”  Well after searching for months, I decided to settle for any old job I could get….which lead me to Enterprise.

Enterprise lead me to the Tech Support job at their corporate headquarters, and that job lead me to the IT Specialist position at Scott AFB.  And THAT, my friends, is how a singing, dancing, acting glory hog ended up sitting behind a desk, talking to LOTR/WOW/Star Wars nerds all day.

Honestly?  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

My dream home…err, kinda

Let me just preface this by saying I HATE apartment shopping.  I would rather be buried alive in cotton balls and spiders than have to look through one more friggin apartment listing.

Let me also say that if ONE MORE PERSON tells me I need to just buy a house so I can get the $8,000 tax credit this year, I have half a mind to shave their eyebrows off.  Buying a house is for someone with a savings account.  Not for someone who feels the need to move every six months and who has YET to purchase a single pot/pan, let alone an entire living room set.

So I’ve lived all over the St. Louis area, and I’ve had somewhat interesting living situations too.  I’ve dealt with four hour commutes, not having a closet, living with children/married couples/almost married couples, and I decided it was finally time for me to get my very own place!  So I nailed down a location, (O’Fallon, IL), a price range, and set out to find my very own corner of the world.

I checked out a place #1 between Swansea and Belleville, and asked my friend what he thought of the place.  His exact comment: “Ohh, way to pick the area with the most child molesters!”  Place #1

Possible future home #2: a small house in Shiloh, 2 bedrooms, big backyard, small garage….hooray!  So I brought my skeptical team (Mel and Phil) to tell me if it was any good or not.  After taking the tour, I noticed Phil standing outside, staring intently at the roof, almost like he was angry at it.  I asked him “What do you think?”  He said “What about all the trees?  You’ll have to pick up sticks all the time.”  Interesting observation.  Then I asked Mel what she thought, but the look of sheer disgust on her face said more than her words ever could.  She said “I don’t like it.”  I asked why.  She said “I don’t know….I just don’t like it.  Possible future home #2 Back to the drawing board.

Option #3: I found a cute little duplex with two bedrooms, a fenced back yard, and 5 minutes from work!  I pulled up to the lot, and immediately noticed the neighbors.  They were especially easy to spot, given they were all sitting on their front lawns, drinking 40’s while their rottweiler lay tied up in the yard.  Even that could have been forgivable, but the semi truck lot + lack of dishwasher were not easily overlooked.  Option #3 Sigh….

So here I am, two weeks from my supposed move date, with no apartment, and no leads.  (And no movers, because my entire would-be moving crew will be on a camping trip the last weekend in May.)   But hey, I’m not worried.  Surely one of those child molesters needs a roommate, right?

keybellevegas

…might as well be a bull’s eye.

So first of all, a very happy mother’s day to Mama Cain!!  You’re a pretty fantastic lady, I don’t think I tell you that often enough.

Much to her dismay, this post is going to be about tattoos.  I got my first tat during my freshman year at college, its a pretty simple star on my lower back.  Now to be fair, I got it BEFORE it was dubbed the “Tramp Stamp,” and it totally bums me out that I have something that stereotypical.  That being said, it appears the new trend is foot tattoos….and I totally want one.   I know I know, I’m a huge follower.  Though I’ve heard that they really hurt, and let’s face it, I’m kind of a wuss.

So I was surfing the interwebs to get some inspiration, and I came across some of the most horrible tattoos I’ve ever seen.  They were so bad, I felt the need to post them here.

Mr. Cool Ice

Mr. Cool Ice (back)

Apparently this dude is 33 years old and has gone by Mr. Cool Ice for the last 13 years.  He’s also German, which explains a lot.  Favorite part?  The sunglasses on the back of his neck.  Apparently the grand total for this beautiful piece of artwork was roughly $6,000.  Ouch

beers beers beers

Beyond hilarious, you know this dude must have been wasted when this happened.  And honestly, what kind of parlor would even DO this?

Swayze Centaur

Single gayest tattoo in the history of the world.  Chippendale Patrick Swayze as a centaur, with a purple and rainbow background.  I’m assuming someone lost a bet here.

Lacoste

The true sign of a douche: a Lacoste alligator tattoo.  Apparently wearing the polo wasn’t quite cool enough, he wanted to keep it classy even without a shirt.

Bible Tramp Stamp

Easily the funniest tramp stamp I’ve ever seen.  Nothing like putting the single best bible verse about love right above your ass.  Gives the guy something to read I suppose! (Heyo!!)