What Is This?

Why, it’s another new blog. So here it is, this is where I’ll be posting all my travels and whatnot from now on.

 

I Hate Cops

Seriously.

 

What Have I Gotten Myself Into?

So today is day four of my forty-three day diet. It’s probably only going to be about a 37 day diet because I’m out this beeatch in that many days. But here’s hoping I lose that 28 pounds I’m looking to give away free to a home. It doesn’t even have to be a good home. Or a mediocre home. Just a home. Problem with this diet, aside from the raging hunger and possible murdering, is the fact I pee non-stop. Mainly because all I can drink it tea and water, two culprits well-known to me to cause major peeage. In fact, I was up every hour and a half last night emptying my bladder. Something I’m certain you’re happy to know. And something I’m happy to share.

You're welcome

So, yesterday, day three, I took a good long hard look at myself and my eating habits. Then I cussed out my parents for passing off french fries as a vegetable. Then I cussed myself out for having no GD will power. I mean, LOOK AT ME! I cannot stand the way I look, yet I do nothing about it. I work out, and I can feel that muscle in my abs and arms and legs, but cannot see them because I love me some fast food. Because of all that, I feel the need to go to the extreme. I either work out more than I should, or not work out at all. Right now, I’m in that “more than I should” phase, as evidenced by the fact I can barely walk because my muscles are screaming for mercy. I either eat too damn much, especially if I’m pissed off, or I don’t eat anything at all. Yesterday, all I did was watch the clock, waiting for it to be time to eat again. Hopefully, those feelings will pass. Hopefully I can lose that 28 pounds (I still have more to lose, but my goal in all this is 28 pounds; I can worry about the rest when I’m in Australia and no longer dependent on a car) and I won’t feel like a land whale. Even if I don’t look like one, I still feel like one. And hopefully I get through this without resorting to violence. It might be difficult, though, since I work for stupidheads.

So, I’ll be keeping you all updated. Only because I know I will blow off my diet and exercise program if I don’t. And I will need Joders to keep me in line because I’m looking to do this in 2013, so obviously I will need to get into shape. And round isn’t the shape I’m looking for. This is what I want to look like, even if I never will

Minus the blonde hair, though. I look ridiculous with blonde hair.

 

So, stay tuned! You might get my story of success, or you might see me on the evening news! If you do, send bail money, no joke. Thanks.

This might be me in a couple days. I do accept checks.

 

Nonsense

So, apprehensive time, y’all! I have 43 days until wheels up and I’ve been starting to get a little bit nervous. Why would I be nervous, you ask? Well, something about picking up and starting a whole new life is a bit nailbiting, but that’s really not the main reason my panties are in a bunch. You see, I am worried people will think I’m weird. I mean, I know I’m weird, but here people embrace my weirdness, mainly because people here have really no damn room to talk because ain’t nobody sane and normal round these parts.

But the thing is, I’m leaving a world where morbid humor, put downs and cussing is a standard norm. I don’t think there has ever been a time we talked to one another without mean words and snide remarks. Because that’s how we bond. And since I used to be a sailor, I tend to cuss like one. In fact, this is pretty much me most of the time

And that’s pretty much how we also communicate. It’s not for lack of word or smarts (for some of us), it’s just the way things are.

Also, I tend to speak in song lyrics. Like, if you were to say “Knock three times”, I would bust out with this

Sometimes I quote Tupac for no other reason than to be stupid. I like to switch back and forth between British and American accents. I speak with a Southern accent when I say something retarded. I like to move the emphasis on syllables so words sound different and retarded just because I can. I like to use the phalanges as opposed to fingers.

Kate Middleton LOL’s amuse me, even though I pretty much adore Princess Shinylocks.

Just utterly fantastical

Speaking of the word fantastical, I like to make up words. If Shakespeare can do it, so can I dammit.

I am also pretty much insane. My mood changes with the breeze, I can’t settle down for very long, I’m figgity, I hum when I’m bored, I burst out into song when I’m bored, I act out my writing so it’s more “real”. There are days when I feel awesome and cool, and there are days when I want to hide in sweats and not even glance at the outside.

I don’t even know if I’m worried I won’t fit in. I enjoy being insane, but I don’t enjoy feeling ostracized. I know no one likes it, but I still worry about it. I’m also embarking on another career path, one where I might not fit in and that kinda bothers me. I’m worried I won’t make friends; I’m worried I’ll end up cold and alone.

Me

This is all combined with my fears of getting older and never accomplishing anything worthwhile. Kinda like someone else I know…

So really this is all blah blah blah and nonsensical crap and I really should just shut my face because not everyone gets to have an awesome opportunity such as this and everything is going to be fine and I’m going to be the belle of the ball and this will be me.

So I’m just gonna end this right here. I’m being annoyed by work people and i really should get on the road, even though each time I venture out into the world while here at work, murderous rage take over because more often than not, some idiot is going to be retarded and I can’t just go and wall them up somewhere. I know I’m going to hear some fucknut get mouthy because my officers aren’t allowing them to drive like a fucktard and DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!?!?! and I’m gonna call your boss and then I’m gonna end up in trouble because the cool LT isn’t here today. I also know, I am so over this place, looking at people while I’m at work fills me with hatred and anger. Fuck all this serve and protect bullshit. I’m done dealing with pompous assholes who have this ego problem.

 

Things I Would Like To Stop Happening Immediately

1. Stop tearing down my President Obama picture. It’s my office, too. You get to have stupid ass drawings and a picture of Captain Picard in here. I want a President Obama picture in here. With the words “My Hero” scribbled beneath it. Plus, it was an adorable picture. How could you hate on this?

How adorable is he? And he is probably the awesomest person in the world. And like it or not, he is our President. El Presidente. The Master and Commander. And I will be voting him in again. UPDATE: Hanging a pic of the Royals is A-Ok (yes, Prince Harry, looking dashing as ever, I might add, is hanging above my desk) but the President is not. Ok. Got it.

2. Democrats trying to “show them” by voting Democrats out of office and allowing Republicans to begin their terrifying rule again. The muthafucking Democrats can’t wave a magic wand and unfuck the 8 years of fuck-ups caused by that functional retard, George Bush. The economy is fucked. The country is fucked. And you’re not helping by voting out those who actually care about this country. Newsflash, the GOP doesn’t. They care about money and corporations. Buy a clue. Thanks.

3. Michele Bachmann existing. Why does she exist? Why is she even a serious political contender? I blame the GOP for this. If you wouldn’t have paraded that pitbull with lipstick out in front of the entire world, Bachmann would never have had a chance. Fuck you, GOP. Seriously.

4. Stop saying being gay is a choice. It is not a choice. You can’t “pray the gay away”, *coughcough* Mister Michele Bachmann, I’m looking at you *coughcough*. You say it’s “wrong” and “against God”, but it’s not. And I’ll tell you why. People who are gay, or bi, or trans, or whatever are born that way (horrible Lady Gaga song notwithstanding) and if you run around saying God doesn’t make mistakes, then either God was wrong by making these people “different” or God made a mistake. It’s one or the other, people. So which is it? If you want to not like somebody because they’re gay, fine. That’s your right, I suppose. But stop trying to get others to share your hate. And stop trying to turn an entire country against those people. It’s hard enough to go through life different. When you tell these kids they’re an abomination and should just die, you’re not helping the situation. Everyone is different. That’s what makes life wonderful. If everyone was the same, life would suck. Let people live, damn! And stop breeding so much hate in this country. Just. Stop.

5. Along those lines, stop being racist, sexist, whateverist. It is riduculous. Hating on someone because of the color of their skin, or their sex, or whatever is assinine. No one gets to chose how they are born or to whom. I don’t hate you because you are a religious, sexist whacko. Don’t hate on me because I am a female.

44 days until I am on a plane for Australia. It’s about damn time because America and I need a break. And here’s hoping I can swing a full time gig down there, or snatch up a school visa because I really don’t think I want to come back.

 

Lame

This has kinda been the shittiest month.

 

Battle of the Bulge

Hello, how have you loverly people been? First off, I would like to share the most active search phrases that bring people to this blog with like 4 posts on it: “Who’s awesome, your awesome”, “Joseph Fiennes overacts”, and “Prince Harry’s bulge”. I would like to blast the first phrase because it is ‘you’re’ not ‘your’, okay. Basic little shit like that bothers the hell out of me. But thank you for thinking I am awesome, because I am. The second search phrase is spot on and whichever genius types that into Google search or Bing (ha, no one uses Bing except my punk ass self at work because the US government must have a contract with Microsoft or something since MSN is always the homepage and whenever I try to change it, the stupid computer loses my profile and I have to start all over again. With Bing. Bloody bastards). Joseph Fiennes (remember, about whom we were speaking) does overact. It’s unbearable. And he has no lips. Why does he not have any lips?! And finally, the third search phrase. Miss Sharon World is obviously the one who continues to type such a phrase into the Google search bar. Hate to break it to her,but that bulge is all mine. By the by, this is the first image to come up when you type in “Prince Harry’s bulge”

Clicking on this pic sadly does not redirect to Dlisted. That leads me to believe Michael K is slacking.

Moving on.

For those of you keeping track, I have just a little over 81 days and seven hours until my move to Australia. And starting Friday, 17 June, I start my 40 day diet to supplement my 20 mile weekly walks and help me get back down to my svelte, gorgeous self (’cause that certainly ain’t me now). I imagine on day three of said diet, this will be me:

I say day three because on day one and two, I get to eat whatever my little heart desires. And I plan on eating whatever my little heart desires until my little heart and oversized tummy scream for mercy. Day three and beyond is going to be tough. I delightfully refer to this diet as my “murder diet”, because I have a feeling somewhere around the halfway point of no good food (and no alcohol), I will be murdering some people. Keep an eye out for me on the 6 o’clock news, y’all!

In all seriousness, I am pretty excited. I’ve looked at decade old pictures and am amazed at just how badly I’ve let myself go. I like to blame the hell that is work and Western Washington, but it’s really all my fault. And I’m pretty determined to get myself back on track. Even if it means killing a few people during hunger blackouts along the way.

Walking twenty miles a week really helps. I don’t have that time to sit at home and get bored, which leads me to eat delicious food and drink delicious drinks. My social life is probably going to start to suffer, but I’ll get over it, crying softly in my bed as I dream of delicious cookies and cake and ice cream and hamburgers.

Anyway, Australia is 81 days away!!! I’m so eager to get going; you can’t even imagine. I’ll be able to do this every day!

And dating men who look like this:

Ah, Rusty, where did it all go wrong? You should go on this diet with me. Looking at newer pics of you only drive me to tears.

Now, thinking about the hot Aussie menfolk has brought me to this thought. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t hear how asshole-ish Aussie menfolk are to their wimmenfolk. If that’s true, some Aussie menfolk might get punched in the froat. I mean, as long as I get mine, there might be no froat punching, but if some manfolk thinks he can treat anyone like the crap on the bottom of his shoe, there will be blood.

This is me. You don't want to f-bomb with me.

So I forgot exactly where I was going with this because I did another check of search terms that happen to lead people here, and there’s one interesting one, waaaaaay down at the bottom, and it really just kinda sidetracked me. What is that, you ask? Well, it’s “bulge police”. Who the f-bomb is typing in “bulge police”? Maybe they mean “Bulgarian police”. Or “Bluth Police” (maybe they’re an ‘Arrested Development’ fan and they wanna see Michael Bluth in uniform?). So I decide to do some research, as a good internet user, and search for “bulge police”. Just so I can see exactly what this person might have been looking for. And this is what comes up:

Which, in turns, leads you to a blog post about Anthony Weiner (the most unfortunately named politician who has ever been embroiled in a dick pic scandal).

So, there you have it. That’s all you’re gonna get out of this post. A cavalcade of bulge pics and nonsensical utterings. Now, if i disappear, you all know what has happened. Don’t forget to send bail money.

 

America, Eff Yeah!

rfhg;o;oae[0qq[t3cj]xf <———That is me banging my head against the keyboard. Why? Because nary an hour after The Greatest News Of All Time, a.k.a. the death of Osama Bin Laden, I had to hear about how my President is covering something up because CNN reported Bin Laden was buried at sea.

First of all, let me just say we would have freaking SAINTED President Bush had he been the one in charge when our elite teams finally got a hold of Bin Laden. But since it’s our Muslim Kenya President who is in charge right now, there must be something nefarious going on, amirite?! No, I am not right. That is ridiculous.

Me, last night mere hours after being all like:

And this:

This photo was taken secretly by my web camera the moment that grey haired dude interrupted Wolf Blitzer to steal the President's thunder and tell us Osama was dead.

Secondly, can i just say so what if Osama was dumped at sea (because the word ‘burial’ doesn’t sound right; it sounds dignified and I doubt we were playing mourning tunes and grieving when we tossed him over the side). Would it have been better to drag him through the streets of every major city in America so my President could prove he was actually dead? Maybe it sounds like a good idea, and I really kinda woulda been for it, especially those few months after 9/11, but truth is it’s rather barbaric and we’re supposed to be better than that. We all know that’s no true; we’re just as fucked up as anyone else, but we’re supposed to be the moral, awesome people and sometimes we really just have to be the moral, awesome people.

Thirdly, so what if he wanted to dispose of the body as quickly as possible. We are never going to know exactly how we killed Osama, and we don’t need to know. The President is covered under National Security and really just might be keeping our best interests at heart. Who knows what happened at that mansion outside Islamabad. We’ll get some scrubbed down story, that’s a given, but the particulars are a National Secret and really, none of us need to know. So get over it. And really, where were all over you suddenly righteous folks when President Bush lied about weapons of mass destruction in Iraq? When he was sending detainees to Cuba? When he was secretly tapping your phones? When he was making stupid analogies? Every President has his secrets. Have you never seen National Treasure? And stop filling my Facebook feed with conspiracy theories. GAH!!! I need better Facebook friends.

And lastly, really?! C’mon. Last night was a night that will last forever in the history books. A terrorist is dead. A mass murderer is dead. A man who was responsible for the worst tragedy on American soil is dead. This is a huge blow to Al-Qaeda and the beginning of the end for our troops overseas. Let us just bask in the National pride I’m sure we all felt when CNN panned to the growing group of Americans crowding outside the White House (and freaking out the Secret Service) who spent the night chanting “USA USA (un-ironically…unlike I usually do)” and singing our Nation’s anthem at the top of their lungs. I haven’t had pride for my people like that in years. In fact, not since people banded together after 9/11 to help their fallen countrymen. That’s the America I love. That’s the America that makes us the greatest country in the world. I’m proud of that America. I want to live in that America. I wouldn’t have to say I’m Canadian when I’m abroad if that’s the America in which I lived. So, no matter your feelings about our President of the United States (you are entitled to them, that’s what makes America awesome and it’s not like I didn’t compare President Bush to a monkey for eight years…sorry monkeys), can we just support him as a country, just this once?

Anyway, poor President Obama. He’s damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t. I just hope smart people turn out in droves in 2012 to get him re-elected. I have faith another four years will cause the President to put a boot into the Democrats and Republicans’ asses so this country can get right back on track. That said, I will leave you with his next campaign poster (or rather, the picture I’m going to hang from my house, no matter where I roam)

And our new national anthem

P.S. I really do love some of my Facebook friends. I just wish you all weren’t so damn Republican all the time.

P.P.S. I was really hoping last night the President’s speech was just going to be him grabbing the mic, saying “That’s right, Osama’s dead, bitches. America, fuck yeah”, drop the mic, then walk away. That would have been mine. He’s much more dignified than I.

 

The Countdown Continues

It’s officially 4 months until my move Down Undaa (written as it is intended to be pronounced).

False. I have it on good authority it actually does.

In case I haven’t mentioned this enough, I’m super excited. But I’ve been thinking about what to do when my year is up. I know it’s a bit premature, but it’s my nature. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to come back to the States. I’m pretty sure my purpose in life is to travel the world. So I’ve been searching the interwebs and came across this site. I’ve got a ton of tips; all I need is the green.

Why is this not a real thing?

It’s really too bad independently wealthy heiress is not an actual job position or else I’d apply. Still, if other countries offer the same awesome visa Australia does (where I get to work and vacay during my stay), I might be in like Flynn.

The thought of having no ties to anyone or anything, being responsible for no one but myself and seeing every corner of this globe is seriously romantic and intriguing. And travelling is the only thing I’ve wanted to do with my life. I remember being just a wee lass and wishing we could just drive to the edge of the country and see everything there is to see. Just seeing the word “west” on the freeway would send me into a tizzy and I would beg my mom to keep driving because I wanted to explore. Unfortunately, that never happened and I pretty much looked like a little Royal flower girl when we pulled into our Douglas Road abode.

after every car ride. Minus the cutesy Royal couple.

Of course, this is all really sixteen months away. And I don’t want to have to spend any time thinking about what will happen after my visa expires because I need all my attention to focus on the awesome continent of Australia, filled with hot mens and a truly fantastic friend who has promised all Australian men are Russell Crowe circa L.A. Confidential/Gladiator. 

Sexiest LA cop eva.

Sexiest gladiator who ever....gladiated.

Plus, I found the following on the internet, and we all know the internet doesn’t lie.

Ah…Buddha bless rose colored glasses.

 

The Most Important Day Of Our Lives

So, it has happened. The gorgeous Catherine Middleton a.k.a. Duchess of Cambridge, a.k.a. Princess Shinylocks, has been wed to the not so gorgeous (anymore) Prince William of Wales, a.k.a. William Arthur Phillips Louis from the House of Windsor, a.k.a. Earl of Strathearn, a.k.a. Baron Carrickfergus, a.k.a. Duke of Cambridge, a.k.a. Prince Toothsome. The Duchess looked insanely fabulous in her wedding gown, styled by Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen (OMG!! McQueen!) and the Duke looked extremely handsome in his Irish Guards uniform. Not nearly as handsome as Prince Harry of Wales, my new husband, whom I share with Sharon Graham, a.k.a. Lady Liz. It was part of a peace treaty, brought upon by a hostile coup, but we put aside our differences so that we may band together to fight the forces of one Chelsy Davy. Who the hell spells their name ‘Chelsy’ anyway?

You better step, Chelsy Davy!

Anyways, I am so disappointed I had to work this morning, for I was not available to watch The Most Important Social Event Of Our Time, instead I had to resign to updates on BBC and CNN. And I’m not ashamed to say all this wedding fever has made me wish I could move to the UK quicker than I truly can afford to. I’m also not ashamed I’ve geeked out over all this Royal knowledge I keep stored in my tiny woman brain. I’ve been informing everyone who will listen about the history of the Royal Family and how awesome they are and how great England is and how fabulous history can be. I’m sure they’re getting plenty annoyed. But do I care? No! Because “SQUEE!!!!!” Royal Wedding!!!!!!

Prince Harry!!!! Super handsomeAdorable