The clumsiest fucking week of my life

This week was the clumsiest fucking week of my life. Let me break it down for you, bit by excruciating bit:

Great on your nails, not on your carpet.

Thursday: I'm lying on the couch, painting my nails the brightest fucking 80s blue you can possibly imagine. I get too comfortable, reach over to the coffee table to do a one-handed brush dip, when the bottle dives off of the table like Greg Louganis, flips three times and lands in two blue puddles on our beige carpet. I slow panic, quickly Google "How to get nail polish out of carpet", run for the ShamWows and Totally Awesome Carpet Cleaner. A quick prayer and lots of scrubbing later, I managed to get the carpet clean.

Friday: K comes home from work and we decide to have a few beers. I'm lying on the couch in the same place I was when I was painting my nails, we're watching a very intense end of Season 8 episode of X Files in which Scully is trying to save her alien baby from being abducted, I reach for my beer and it (naturally) leaps onto the carpet in the EXACT same spot that the nail polish was in. (It's like rain on your wedding day, yes?)

Miracle cleaner from Jesus.

Saturday: Driving down to my sister's engagement party, K and I stop at Subway for some noms after a long conversation during which we vow not to eat McDonalds and drink beer in the same day ever again. We get in the car and bring our pop with us, tucking it into the poorly designed cupholders of the 2000 Ford Focus. I go to hand the pop to K, he butterfingers it, and I drop the cup and its entire contents onto his white sweatshirt and jeans.

Truly, it's a wonder that I made it out alive.

BJs in a movie theater

The other day, K and I got to discussing this cultural rite of passage for American youths. (During which I told him in no uncertain terms that if he were into that kind of public PDA, he was with the wrong lady.)

We've all seen them from across the theater: the couple that's a little too hands-y. He brings a saw back from the snack counter with which to cut a hole in the bottom of his popcorn tub, she's wearing a tube top and a white jean skirt. Too much makeup, and too much ass grabbing on the way to their seats. They form an amoeba-like creature as they suck face and meld into one inappropriate blob. You glare from across the theater at their annoying mumbles and wish to sweet Jesus that they would stop interrupting your viewing of Beauty and the Beast in 3D.

It SOUNDS like an awesome idea in theory, right? It's dark, no parents. A little risky. But what if you're the movie theater dude who has to go parental on these oversexed teens?

Do you spray them with a water bottle like bad cats? "HEY. HEY! YOU. IN THE MINI SKIRT."

Do you throw popcorn from the back row, hoping to distract them long enough to accost them with a flashlight and politely request they exit the theater?

"Excuse me ma'am, please remove your mouth from that man's genitalia."

 A truly awkward situation for all involved, yes? This is why I say leave the crazy public fornication to the couples on COPS. Leave room for the lord, people.

World's sluttiest bridesmaids dresses

So if you have been keeping up with the Gingdashians, you know that my little sister is getting married, and I'm the Pippa, bitches!

Which brings a whole slew of new blogging possibilities. And don't worry, it will be full of swearing and sluttiness, like always.

First on the menu: the world's sluttiest bridesmaids dresses! (And prom, we can't leave those racy numbers out.)

That's one way to highlight Pippa's derriere.

The flower is a nice touch.

The bride will look STUNNING next to this demure number.

Nothing says "have her home by 9" like leopard and leather.

The rear zipper is like the velcro butt patch for troll dolls. Easy bathroom access.

G.I. Jane definitely won't outshine the bride.

I like that it showcases the back of the upper thigh... always a sexy hotspot for cellulite.

A wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen.

Love the crumb catcher: eat dinner and store the leftovers where the sun don't shine.

Some of these are better left to the bedroom. So let's hear it, kiddies... which dress do YOU vote for?? Let's help my sister with the planning.

If I were a hooker

This is absolutely amazeballs. A woman in LA is accused of offering sexual favors in return for a box of chicken nuggets.

Seems like a fair deal to me, those nugs are like bites of Jesus in your mouth.

Things I'd accept in return for sexual favors if I were a hooker:
- a Klondike bar
- a roll of Bubble Tape
- a pair of Pajama Jeans (those things are EXPENSIVE!)
- an Orange Dream Martini from Applebees
- Chia Herb Garden
- a gift certificate to JoAnn Fabrics
- a movie date to see Breaking Dawn (K won't go with me, whomp whomp.)
- 3 Chalupas
- a box of K-cups
- a Double Filet o Fish
- a Shake Weight

That's right folks, I'm a cheap date.

A Mountain of Taffeta

Doing my Pippa duties; I can't
show you the whole thing; what
if JB were to see?!

Yesterday was the kind of day that little girls dream about for their entire lives. One where full moments in time pause and choke you with emotion. I helped her dive headfirst into a mountain of taffeta and slip into the first white gown she's ever adorned. And as I stood behind her in the fitting room, lacing up her corset, I had to fight the tears.

In one instant, I was reminded of the years that have gone by, back to the days when we would push each other on the swingset, make bassinets for our troll dolls and flip our bikes over to pretend like they were ice cream machines. When we would sleep in the same bed when we were scared, and even the years when we weren't so close. How could she be five and twenty-five all in the same moment? But somehow she was.

She exited the dressing room, and the memories melted away as I watched her step up onto the platform with the trail of white fabric piled up around her feet. The smile on her face was the same one I'd seen every Christmas morning for the last 25 years. And as she twirled, I realized what I had long known but hadn't wanted to admit: my baby sister isn't so little anymore.

Me, Mom & bride-to-be, center

WTF is wrong with my scarf?

I'm trying REALLY, really hard to be a grown up. I turn 28 in less than a month. It's bad enough that I sleep with a pink gingham pillow every night like a toddler and have an extensive carebear collection. I figure when you approach the age where you could BE somebody's mother, you should probably act like a adult yourself. Right? So to increase my maturity level, I have to make up for the food fight I had with myself at the last wedding.

My Christmas gift from my BFF K-dub!

So I took up knitting. My BFF K-dub sent me a beginner's knitting kit for Christmas because she knew I wanted to learn, and it totally worked!

Because obviously, knitting = grownup. You see the logic there?

Soo I've been knitting my face off since I got it, and yesterday I finished my first scarf.

But there is a problem. Why the fuck is it shaped like the state of Florida?

Whomp, whomp.

I ALSO completed this lovely coaster that is comparable to the macaroni crafts that 5-year-olds bring home from daycare:

A coaster.

Obviously, this whole becoming an adult thing is going swimmingly. At least my new addiction to Pinterest has me learning to cook and sew. I'll be a grownup yet, just you wait and see... *shakes fist with menacing frown*

Get drunk and name your child

"Fish. Pony. He gets all the easy ones!"

These days, it seems like celebrity parents blindfold themselves, reach into a hat full of Fisher-Price flashcards and choose a random object/color/number with which to name their children.

Here are a few of my faves:
- Apple (Gwenyth Paltrow)
- Seven (Erykah Badu)
- Camera (Arthur Ashe, tennis player)
- Suri (Joey Potter Katie Holmes)
- Egypt (Alicia Keys)
- Sage Moonblood (Sylvester Stallone)
- Hud (John Cougar Mellencamp)
- Spec Wildhorse (John Cougar Mellencamp)
- Dweezil (Frank Zappa)
- ... And now Blue Ivy?

Whatever happened to naming your child something noble and meaningful? After your Grandmother or your husband's third cousin by marriage?

Come to mommy, Johnny Castle!

This reminds me of when my sister and I adopted Linus, got drunk and came up with a list of names for him. Brace yourself, the list gets more hilarious as the drinks start flowing:

- Gargamel
- AC Slater
- Michael Scott
- Azrael
- Ray (LITTLE ray) (from an episode of Sister, Sister)
- Mr. Belding (YES.)
- Luigi
- Toad
- *Linus
- Larabee
- Birdy dird
- Carlton
- Uncle Phil
- Jeffrey
- GI Joe
- Jaffar
- Tater tot (were we hungry?)
- Buzz (lightyear?)
- Pluto (it will ALWAYS be a planet to me.)
- Burger
- Hambone (probably the most appropriate, in retrospect)
- Hermes
- Morpheus
- Othello
- johnny castle (really?)
- Fred
- Emilio Estevez (yes. this would have been a good move.)
- Mittenz
- Mr. Higgins
- Cotton Headed Ninny Muggins (clearly, time to put the pen down.)

In retrospect, "Hambone" or "burger" would probably have been the most appropriate names, but you have to accept the things you cannot change. Maybe when I have children, I'll play with a "Spin and Say" and name it after a farm animal.

Holy Fucking Hangover, Batman.

We went to a wedding this weekend for our good friends, Jay and Court. It was a GORGEOUS wedding, but whoever told me it was a good idea to drink champagne all night at an open bar is a rat bastard.

Oh wait, pretty much everyone I saw suggested it might NOT be a good idea to drink champagne all night, and I didn't fucking listen. Whomp, whomp.

I managed to keep it together for most of the wedding, (except for when I knocked over a glass of wine all over a girl standing next to me, and at dinner when I got my camera strap wrapped around my fork and dumped beans and squash in my lap.)

The after party at a local bar was a blast, and I broke my champagne binge and switched to draft beer (another stellar decision on my part.) This is what I remember from the rest of the night:

Managed to snap a photo of Memory Flash #2.

Memory Flash 1: A SUPER tall guy gets arrested at the bar for stealing some chick's purse (K dubbed him Jolly Green Purse Snatcher)
Memory Flash 2: Somebody gets punched in the face and stabbed, so there was an ambulance and police cars. I managed to snap a photo of this:
Memory Flash 3: K and I are in the lobby of the hotel drinking beers with kids we just met. A dog shows up, her name is Molly.
Memory Flash 4: Drinking MORE beers in the hotel room.

I awoke the next morning long after the complimentary breakfast was over to the worst hangover I have EVER had. EVER.

I could barely lift my head, I opened my eyes slowly to assess my surroundings only to discover that I had spilled the red beer IN BED and slept on the puddle. Score.

The beer that I slept in a puddle of. SCORE!

The drive home was the longest of my life, and I made K do 25mph for the entire 2 hours. There was much honking and passing at and of our car, but I didn't care. We finally made it home and passed out for the rest of the day, only waking up to eat a shitload of Chinese food, watch 2 episodes of X-Files and go back to sleep.

A good time was DEFINITELY had by all.

Police Blotter Monday

Happy 2012, kiddies! A new year, a new start. Thanks to everybody who managed to make it through the last post. I know it's not my usual, but I think I just needed to write it to heal in the only way I know how--through words. I'm doing a little better now that it's been a few days, so I think it's a good time to get back to swearing and sharing my humiliating life stories with you to make you feel just a little better about yourself.

Let's kick off the new year with a little Police Blotter Monday from our friends in Bozeman, Montana:

December 31, 2011 - Bozeman, Montana
Someone slashed the tires on a Valhalla Court man’s car. The car was also egged and had ketchup and mustard poured all over it.

Ouch, buddy. This isn't a good way to finish off 2011. I can only imagine that you got into a fight with your manager at the In-and-Out Burger where you've only been employed for the last 4 weeks. The gig at the convenience store just wasn't paying enough so you thought you'd take a chance and break into a new industry. The hours were long, the burgers were hot, and the customers were rude. So when those two punk kids came into the store demanding they have their burgers their way, you lost it. You dove across the counter and pounced on the one who called your mom fat, giving him a fat lip and a bloody nose. You were fired on the spot, spit in the manager's face, and stormed out the back door after making a scene and tossing beef patties all over the kitchen like frisbees.

When you got to the parking lot, your car looked like something that had just come out of the fryer. The tires were slashed, and condiments had been squirted all over the outside of your '94 Dodge Caravan. Maybe they thought it looked like a hot dog? Did they use the packets from the bin in the lobby, or did they use industrial sized containers? I guess it would be pretty time consuming to rip open all of those ketchup and mustard packets, but then again--your beef tantrum did take about 20 minutes.

I hope you learned your lesson: the customer is always right. They may be douchey, but they have the power to ruin your mode of transportation. And your mom is gonna be PISSED when she finds out you borrowed her van.