I hate 'how my day was' blogs.

No one fucking cares how your day was, k? Post pictures of cats or something, and I'm sure you'll get more followers. That being said, this is definitely, in every way, a 'how my day was' post. You can complain in the comments. I probably won't read them.

I was irritated this morning because I was at my parents' house, and I can't smoke there. God damn it. I'm 22, and they already know I smoke, but apparently it's unacceptable to have cigarettes in their house. Whatever. But I dealt with it because I was going back home that day anyway.

I also had to stop by my sister's place to get some shit for my other sister who I now live with, and sister #1 (one I had to visit quick, right, you following?) was SO FUCKING SLOW. And I went shopping with her last night because I'm nice and I was in town and she wanted to see me. She was complaining that I was making her breathe in poison the whole time (smoking in my car) and that my taste in music sucks EVEN THOUGH I was driving my car rather than hers because she has no gas and no money because she spent it all on stupid shit like getting her nails done and an audi that was out of her price range. WHATEVER.

So I finally got on the road and I was like, halfway home, when BEEP BEEP BEEP BIG SCARY RED LIGHT. Fuck, dude. Seriously? My oil light came on. I didn't even know I had one. I do. And it's important, apparently. I'm learning so much! I called my mom. (Don't even judge me, you KNOW you all do this too when something happens and you have no clue what to do. Mom knows everything. Always.) We decided that I had to drive like five miles with my car freaking out to get to a gas station. I found one and YAYYYY there was a valvoline next door. Blah blah they helped me and I was on my way. But jesus christ why is that fucking beep so loud? Seriously, that could give old people heart attacks. YEAH THAT'S SAFE, BOB.

Then I got to where I was going, (Read previous post and it's the same trip. Fucking turning lanes.) and I had forgotten my phone in my car. Of COURSE I left my keys in my car.

But we had wine, so everything's fantastic now.

Traffic lanes...y u no consistent?

I recently moved to a city. I'm from a town of about 13,000. It's not creepy-small-town material, but it sure as hell isn't a city of millions. Which is where I've moved to. (That may or may not be an exaggeration, I don't actually know for sure.) Anyway, I have to drive downtown to get some things, which was no problem because I came from my parent's house in said town, so I was pretty familiar with how to get there from the freeway. I was not familiar, however, with how the hell you get back into the parking garage once your walking. And outside. Shouldn't there be a bigass sign? Or something? Nah, just a couple of unmarked doors will do. I had to ask a traffic guy for directions, and he didn't even know and he fucking WORKS there. Fuck that. I walked around the same block for about ten minutes and finally found it, like a boss. No big deal. Then I got back on the road.


See, I can almost understand why they wouldn't think to have a huge sign for dummies like me to find your car again. (I'd like to add that once I was in the elevator I knew exactly where my car was, thank you.) But what I found on road? No no no. What the fuck where they thinking? I needed to turn right in a few blocks. I was in the right lane. Perfect, right? NA NA. Nope. Apparently, the right lane turns into a 'right turn only' lane without ANY FUCKING SIGNS TELLING YOU SO.

FUCK.

I had to cut a fucking mercedes off swerving back into the left lane so I could go straight. I'm afraid I've pissed off the mafia or some shit. Are they even in America?? WHO KNOWS. Fuck. I'm keeping my door locked tonight.

Yes, I love coffee THAT much.

I've recently moved in with my sister. We're very similar in a lot of ways, but one thing we differ greatly on is cleanliness. Not of ourselves, but our apartment. We're tackling the kitchen today, (which I'm not sure I even want to share, it's that bad.) but I wanted to make coffee. So I opened the coffee maker and what do I find?

MOLD.

Okay, it was enough to make me second guess my decision...but. Come on, guys. It's COFFEE. Coffee is the life blood that fuels the dreams of champions! (Will Ferrell, Kicking and Screaming) And really, it was only on the old coffee grounds....that makes it okay, right?

I washed the hell out of it, may or may not have burned my hands in the process because the water was so hot. I've worked in a kitchen--I've got this. I cleaned that bitch all up and she's sparkly and new looking. I get my coffee.

You can't lie, guys. You would've done the same thing.

Slow walkers, talkers and not-so-great time managers.

I had to go to target today to get some cleaning supplies. I'm still a little sick, so I'm even crabbier than normal. That being said, I was determined to make the best of it. I got in the store, and I'm like, alright. Get a basket, walk to the cleaning supplies aisle. Some old guy just walks right in front of me, and just STANDS there, right in the middle of the way. I would've been rude and given him a piece of my mind, but he was old, so I let it slide. By 'let it slide' I mean I let my annoyance burn slowly and painfully within me. He finally moved and I got my basket. Alright, to the aisle. You have to understand that they just remodeled our target (it's now a new and approved semi-super target!) and so I couldn't find the stupid aisle. Then when I DID find it, again, some fat bitch is in my way, completely oblivious on her damn phone. GAH. I didn't say anything, just politely bumped her when I walked by, then flashed a smile no one can be angry at. Yes, kill her with kindness. After walking around the aisles for a good twenty minutes (because No, I don't need any help, damn it.) I found all I was looking for and got to the checkout.

I'm a tall girl. That means I walk faster than the average overweight lazy American. (Yeah, I did just say that. You mad, bro?) As such, it drives me FUCKING INSANE to be stuck walking behind slow people. Or people who could be faster, but have nothing better to do than just infuriate me, moseying along checking out the scenery. (Target has a lot of glittery, shiny things.) I try my best to not be rude, but seriously, HOW can you not notice when you're holding up traffic? I'm not that slow when I'm TRYING to waste time. Seriously, guys. Time is money. Speaking of time, know what else irks me? If you have ever had a job where you have to talk to lots of people, you'll understand this: slow talkers. You know who I mean? I used to work at Payless (classy, I know.) and we had to talk to every customer and tell them the promo. Sometimes there would be too many people and we'd miss some one--inevitably the one person missed would be a slow talker, who just HAD to know if it was BOGO.

"Is it....you know...like, your buy, uh, buy one and uh, get...get another or whatever?"

"I don't know, are you fucking blind? There are red posters on nearly every inch of free space in our store that say IT'S BOGO. What do you think?" 

I'm kidding. I wish I could say that. It usually went something like this:

"Is it...you know...li---"

"YES it's buy one get one half off everything in the store."

"Like everything? Even like--"

"EVERYTHING" *Smile you cannot deny ow ow*

Such is the life of retail personnel.

These people always end up in front of me at the checkout too. It's like they find their way to me. I'm magnetic and I attract slow, ugly, dumb people. Do you REALLY need to know when the store closes? You're already checking out. I'm pretty certain you'll make it out in time. And seriously? Why didn't you ask where the kitty litter was before you were at the register and all rung up, huh? No, no, please, I would LOVE to sit and wait while some one gets one for you. I live to please.

Along the same lines, I hate not-so-great time managers. We all have friends like this. The ones we tell to meet us at 5 when we really mean 6:30? Yeah. My best friend happens to be one. If she calls you at noon wanting to hang out before you work at six, it's not going to happen. I've come to accept this and I plan accordingly. It only pisses me off to no end when we have to go somewhere together, like a meeting, or a party. I hate being late. I'm never late. I like to be on time, ready to go, familiar with my surroundings (in case of zombies, you know.) five minutes before I need to be there. But my best friend....she just doesn't understand. If she says it only takes ten minutes from her house, she won't be ready until you have five, and it takes fifteen. Didn't people make clocks to prevent this? That and keep trains on time, but you know what I mean.

Do you have a friend like this?

I May Or May Not Be The Clumsiest Person You Know.

I recently quit my two jobs, and I'm in the transition of moving two hours from where I am now. I still have a class here once a week and obligations this weekend, so I've been living the dream: sitting around, doing NOTHING. Sounds awesome, right? NO. Because I was supposed to visit some friends up north but the universe decided to cancel my plans and make me deathly ill instead.

Thanks.

So I wake up yesterday, all sore throat-y and blurry eyed, and got myself some coffee. This is what happened:

Now, this may not seem like a big deal to you, but LET ME TELL YOU WHAT. That was my adorable heart coffee mug I got the day after Valentine's Day on clearance last year. YEAH. Can you replace that? Sigh. I was disappoint. Then later, you guessed it:

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I mean, this was just a regular old glass so I wouldn't so upset, but it's still hard on the little-ol' ego, you know? Now, to understand the gravity of this mug smashing situation, you need to know. I have a confession.

I fucking love coffee mugs.

I have almost 30.

They make my mornings brighter.

Halloween ones...

Sleepy owls (perfect for tea!)

Now you know. You can judge me and never read my blog again. Just know--that I know that you know that I know of that weird collection you have too, so you can suck my left tit.

Alright. Day one, bitches.

First posts always suck. I'll find a fancy layout and shit like the big kids do sometime, I'm too busy procrastinating at the moment. But I just wanted to share this thought with you:

You know what I hate?

So Halloween was just upon us, and I couldn't help but notice all these slutty girls dressed up as 'dead barbie' and 'zombie cat' (Can cats even become zombies? Wouldn't they have a different name? That is a different discussion entirely, feel free to give your two cents in the comments.), and as I'm looking at these average looking girls squeezed into costumes they only fit into after that time they got really ill during high school, I can't HELP but notice that they only zombie-fied (I'm pretty certain that's not a word, BTW, I know. Just don't care.) their faces, leaving the rest of their bootylicious self it's original, undecayed state.

Alright, REALLY. Who are they fooling? Does any one find this edgy or attractive? Nerdy? What look are they even going for, here? It just looks like they spent to much time pulling on their costume while sucking it all in and ran out of time to make the rest of their body match their costume.

Am I alone in this?