I don’t care what you put in your face.

6 08 2012

If you just met me, I’ll let you in on a little spoiler: I don’t give a shit what you do or don’t eat. I don’t give a shit about most of your personal habits, in fact, but we’ll get into that later.

I don’t eat much meat. The way most of it is processed makes me want to puke and honestly, I just don’t like it that much. I’m more of a carb fan. Do you care? Good. Didn’t think so.

No one wants to hear about how you eat only organic soybeans and drink only naturally carbonated spring water infused with probiotics. I do not feel inferior to you because of what you shove into your pie bean hole. I have a pretty good grasp of nutrition. Sometimes I adhere to it, and sometimes I don’t give a flying fuck. Some douchebag’s opinion on why it’s wrong to kill dandelions for my PMS tea because it’s the only remaining component of unicorns’ natural diet is not going to change my habits, ever.

You’ll be sorry. Bitch.

Nourish yourself with nothing but cute baby animals and african orphans if you want, just please stop acting like it’s some kind of new hobby that I’m dying to be educated about. I’m not. If I’m interested, I’ll google it.

And then clear my search history before anyone finds out.

Throat Punch Thursday (on Friday)

3 08 2012

I know I made a big deal (okay, a one paragraph post) out of closing down this blog and making a new one to reflect the place I’m in in my life and all that shit, but I’ve changed my mind. I may have gone through some serious trauma recently, and I may be living in the Twilight Zone, but I’m still the same immature, sarcastic bitch running around in a cloak of black humor. So, Le Meh lives on!

Throat Punch Thursday has always been my favorite recurring blog event, so even though it’s Friday, I’m going to pretend it isn’t and get my bitchy writing muscles warmed up that way.

I’m not a sports fan. And what I mean by that is I hate sports with the burning fire of 1,000 suns. I just don’t get it. Never have. Never will.

So, I definitely don’t understand why everyone but me is so excited to give up a perfectly good network channel for two weeks- or whatever. I’m not even interested enough to google it-  to watch some obscure sporting events that they don’t give a shit about at any other point in their lives.

I get the whole world togetherness thing, but…wait, how is fierce competition supposed to support that again?

Olympics, you are overrated and, frankly, you suck.

Throat Punch!

I do love that Phelps is a pothead though.

I Got This

5 10 2011

So it turns out that living with a bunch of dudes tends to make you think that you can not only sit around hitting the bong and watching Toddlers & Tiaras like one of the guys…


…but also that you can throw back calories like one.

I can probably count the types of vegetables I’ve eaten in the past month on one hand. The varieties of corn chips and processed cheese products, though? Oh, the many. Those size 6 jeans I was oh so happy to purchase two months ago are starting to fit like a muffin tin.

Never fear, though, The Internet has my back(fat)! I’ve narrowed it down to three effortless, completely fail-proof methods to whip myself back into shape:

1. Wash away the fat!

There is a product that actually claims to have the ability to reduce your body fat by 20% just by you slathering it on in the shower, thanks to extracts from a rare seaweed. Seems legit, right? Fuck jogging.

2. Get a phone. 2 a) Attach dumbbell to phone. 2 b) Answer phone repeatedly.

Screw pushups. Thanks Japan!

3. The future’s so fat, I gotta wear blue shades.

Apparently blue is the most unappetizing color, since it’s so rare in nature. So, all we have to do is make food look blue and we won’t want to eat it anymore! Up yours, dieting.

I’ll let you know how it works out. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go watch a three year old get a bikini wax on TLC.

I Feel Like Blogging!

4 10 2011

Oh hey, I still have a blog!

My life has gone from mildly ridiculous to full on freak show during my absence. Long story extremely short, my household has gained two dudes and lost a dog.

Tune in here for the My Three Husbands show.

It's nothing like this.

Expect tips on how to feed five people with a package of oatmeal and a bottle of ketchup…or how to begin your own regimen to avoid cheap wine hangovers. And by regimen I mean drinking continuously at $2.77/bottle until you become immune.

Look for me in your comment boxes, bitches!

Up Yours, Holidays

11 12 2010

It’s December 11th and I’ve already been assaulted by Christmas music every time I walk into a store for a month and tacky decorations covering my neighbors’ lawns whenever I look out my window.

No, I don’t have a tree up. No, I haven’t bought a single gift. Why? 1. I have no money. Yeah, the toilet scrubbing job fell through. 2. I don’t give a fuck. SPOILER ALERT: God’s not real. So, I don’t really care about the religious connotations. But let’s face it, that’s not what it’s about anymore anyway. My kid has enough cheaply made plastic, lead paint covered toys to overflow a landfill when I chuck them into the trash because he won’t pick them up off the damned floor already, thanks.

And I’ve already gained enough fat on my ass this year that I don’t really need another excuse to eat 5,000 calories a day.

Also, if I really gave a shit about my friends and family, they would know it every month of the year. Not just when I go out and buy them the cheapest but most expensive looking useless gift I can find at the last minute.

The materialism and greed makes me want to projectile vomit eggnog.

Happy Holidays!

Throat Punch Thursday

3 06 2010

Guess what. It’s all but summer up in here! Great news, right?

Only if you’re ready to die.

Summer is a death trap, it turns out.

Skin cancer? Check.

Water waiting to drown you, your toddler and your dog? Check.

Crippling flip flops that will leave your body permanently deformed? Check.

Blood thirsty, disease carrying insects? Check.

Toxic macaroni salad? Check.

You see, every time you find something enjoyable, there is one person waiting in the wings waiting to shit all over your parade.

And that person is…Dr. Oz.

Be sure to stay tuned to find out about every single item in your household that COULD POSSIBLY KILL YOU!

Dear Dr Oz,

You, Sir, are an alarmist douchebag making money off of people’s fear and paranoia. You make me nauseous. If I want to be fear mongered I will watch Fox News.

You suck.

Throat Punch!


Guess Who’s Back Bitches

1 06 2010




I’m back. If you wanna be my friend you have to endure a little self pitying withdrawal fest once in a while. That’s just how I roll. You’ll get used to it.


I was driving along the other day, when I notice in front of me a van with the following lettered across the back window:

‘ChildProofers of Wisconsin- Simple Solutions for a Safe Home’

What. The fuck.

It really takes a professional to tell you to put the knives away and move the lighters and bong to a higher shelf?

For starters, when I was a kid I sure as hell don’t remember ever seeing a baby gate or outlet cover in my house.

When little caveman babies got too close and fell into the fire, did they start fencing them off with little prehistoric baby gates? No. That baby didn’t grow up and contribute to the gene pool.

And our species is better off for it.

If you must insist on reversing natural selection, at least use common fucking sense instead of paying some douchebag who calls themself a “professional babyproofer.”

For fuck’s sake!

Oh, and expect me to get back to stalking all your asses too.

See you soon! ❤