I traveled up to see my Tallahassee Lassies... boy did I. I meet up with my tally crew. My old roomies. I also meet up with my ex while I'm there. Many of you know that I remain friends with my ex, we'll call him Mississippi boy, and yes Dev knows. Well, one would think it would be weird and awkward... well it was... just kidding. It actually went really well. we had a few drinks and a few laughs.
Of course my old roommate- the C-had, pulls out his iPhone to show us what kind of crazy things are on the internet. Well guys, apparently there is a top ten list of augmented mammary glands out there and they are HUGE. I couldn't stop staring. I'm not saying I was disgusted either, I was freakin AMAZED. Seriously. I want to see the show, "TRUE LIFE: My breast are bigger than my children" and here's why:
a) I NEED to know how they get prepared for a boob job that big - stretchy skin, are there air pumps, do you manually lift them up and down?
b) How large are their back muscles? There has to be specified workouts... those boobs are devotion
c) Would anyone really notice if they have pants on?
These questions need to be answered and they would on my new show, "True life: I can't stop wondering about your boobs and how much longer before they have their own solar system"
Going on: so Mississippi boy (MB)and Dev meet up - no big deal - actually, I think the two guys that were MB's friends were more weirded out than we were.
Them: "How do you know each other?"
Me: "Well, I dated him for about 3 years and now I'm dating this guy..."
It just kinda doesn't go that well in conversation.
{side note completely off topic - after three months I can still drive! YAY!! it's parking that's the problem. Not kidding, I could not park even if it was a straight shot... twice I parked on the line... not sure why, i mean I SAW the line, I TURNED the wheel... I don't know why my parking skills were effected but I have been practicing and we'll see how it goes in another three months, a three year old in their toy jeep could do a better job}
ANYWAY, the interesting part is the next day when we go to the pool - p.s. I'm staying with friends (I'll call them The Terminator and The Terminator's wifey) AND I totally invite myself over to MB's pool. So we are hanging out with my new bf, my old bf, my old roommates, and MB's new girl/friend (they are undefined). Was it awkward? still no - though the story where I kick MB in the balls came up...
*fade out of scene at pool
*fade in to two people fighting (played by Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, why? because it's my damn story)
Angie: I'm pissed at you, get out of the way so I can walk upstairs to my bedroom and go to sleep.
Brad: No.
Angie: Get out of my way or I'll kick you in the balls.
Brad: No, I really think we should talk about this.
Angie: Seriously, I'm going to kick you in the balls.
Brad: Stop being pissed.
Angie kicks Brad in the balls.
AND SCENE
*fade back into pool
Good times.
So Anyway, we decide after drinking all day to go eat at a bar and grill called Paradise. First time I've ever been there. Old people are so funny when they are drunk.... by that I mean, there were a lot of old people there. And not "Athena old" I'm talking like 50-60 year olds, shitfaced and dancing... which by the way - is awesome.
Well, we start drinking... and SHOTS!! Now, I've been good. At least I've been trying but Shots, I wish I could quit you. (Yes that was a brokeback mountain reference because our love is misunderstood by the general public and sometimes it gets out of hand...)
I can't tell you how many I had but I can say that I do remember humping Terminator's knee (which to be honest, I would do sober so I suppose that doesn't count) and I remember just acting like a stupid dancer shakin my groove thang... Ok, well my bf, and my ex bf and several other of my guy friends are now getting tanked. The leaders are the ones that dated me (of course). We decided to head out.
Dev thought we were going home - NO! CLYDE'S BABY!! Why? Why? I have no freakin clue... my judgment was off.
THANKFULLY, Terminator's wifey stayed sober and was DD. We ended up getting there and leaving before midnight. I can't remember much after that point other than I was feeding Dev water and praying that his ass wouldn't get kicked by the guy with brain damage. Seriously. The guy had brain damage and Dev was so drunk... it could've been real bad.
So... I get up the next day to go see my Japanese AWESOME MUFFIN (yes, that is a girl) and I get this phone call.
Athena: hello?
MB: What did you do to me?
Athena: Holy shit, are you ok?
MB: Hey, I'm not pointing fingers, I'm just saying I got roofied last night.
Athena: You did it to yourself man.
MB: I'm just saying, I haven't been binge drinking, you come in town and BAM!
Athena: WHAT?!
MB: HEY! I'm not pointing fingers, I'm just saying I got roofied last night.
He so took like 5 shots after like 6 drinks and drinking all day - his roofie was called alcohol. Don't really know what happened to him, but he was carried home.
Well, I was fine. till after breakfast then I turtled on the couch for like 4 hours. I would like to say then awesome things occurred but they didn't - I was educated (unintentionally) by the history channel in an attempt to forget my suffering. P.S. I super don't care what Lincoln "REALLY" looked like. Like his open pores are going to effect my life now.
All I am going to say is this:
Dear Liver,
You and I need to come to an understanding. I realize that you have been overworked these past few days so I want you to take a few days off. Please take advantage of these days so that you can take a proper rest.
Love you, Feel better,
Athena
Dear Shots,
I have contacted my lawyers for a trial separation. It is not you - it's me. We'll see how this goes, and IF we can work out an amicable solution, we can continue. However, our relationship needs work and I expect you to do your part by letting me have my space.
Your friend in Arms,
Athena
Monday, April 19, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Ka-ra-o-ke
So I'm here in Melbourne.
First thing I do is go in the beautiful sun... and get burnt. Yup, the shiny white skin I've got does not do well when it hasn't seen the sun in 3 months (or more). An hour and a half and I'm burnt on both sides of my body... so me and the sun took a break from each other.
H'ok, I've got my things. Certain things that annoy the crap out of me. Bad grammar is one of them (not that I am a pro and speaking and spelling - but obvious stupid grammar mistakes just get me riled up) and spelling words all fucked up. It bothers me. Like "skillz" or "luv" - seriously, it takes two seconds to spell them correctly... Life is not a tweet, there is not a limited amount of space to express yourself. Shit, I get unlimited texting when I'm stateside just so that I DON'T have to sound like I'm in first grade. Yeah, I do it, I pay an extra $5 so that my spelling is correct. Try to judge me.
Anyway, that was a random rant, I do have a point.
I HATE when people mispronounce Japanese words. Maybe it's my upbringing, maybe I'm hoity-toity. Yes, it is a bit odd but Japanese is like the easiest language to pronounce... a i u e o, is pronounced ah, ee, oo, eh, oh. The whole damn alphabet is practically like that, just freaking add a letter. ka ki ku ke ko (kah, kee, koo, keh, koh)... HOW THE HELL can a waitress at a Japanese restaraunt pronounce nigiri (ni-gi-ri) LIKE THE COUNTRY NIGER. SERIOUSLY. YOU WORK AT A FREAKIN JAPANESE RESTARAUNT. She has single handedly offended ME, the JAPANESE, and probably the people of Niger. I tried not to listen to her butcher the rest of the Japanese food but luckily the menu had rolls with fun names like, "Casanova" and "Nemo" so that idiots like her won't make the rest of the country sound stupid.
Unless of course she pronounces it like "Kay-san-ova" or "nem - oh" in which case, I retract all these statements because she probably has a severe learning disability and calling her stupid is no longer funny. One could only hope.
Ok, going on, I went to karaoke (pronounced ka-ra-oh-keh) with my bf and his friends yesterday. It was fun. I didn't really get a chance to really talk to them - instead I made friends with my neighbors to my left who were a mix of Jamaicans and a couple of white guys... Yes, hilarity did ensue but only because I'm me and my internal monologue sometimes kills me.
1) First song of the night! I SWEAR by all for one. Yes, I swear. And one of the guys to my left sang it... he cracked a few times and then asked for another drink... I did too. I almost forgot that All-4-one existed and my life was complete. Thank you for bringing back the memories of puberty.
2) The one note wonder. He sang, "Don't you want me"... in monotone. "Don't, don't you want me" a million times with the same flat note - not as much fun as you would think... HOWEVER, it wouldn't be so weird but he also wore almost all black and had a few piercings on his face (i think) and huge ear gauges... it was an odd mix. You'd think he'd do something like beautiful people by marylin manson.... This is when I realized I was way too sober to be watching this because instead of just going with it - I stared. "No, I don't want you, in fact, I want you gone... like now, it hurts us precious"
3) I found tons of irony starting with MR. one note. Then it was topped by a terrible rendition of Stupid girl... yes, I said it some girl sang stupid girl and did it badly. Wow.
4)There were other crazy songs where I'm like, "look - that's just wrong" and there were some actual funny ones - like the guy who sang "I touch myself" - he knew he couldn't sing, he knew he was drunk, but man, he was a SHOWMAN. I would listen to him because he was just fun to watch... even though he probably could've touched himself less....
5) Lastly, someone tried to sing Sade's "smooth operator"... Yes, it was nails on a chalk board... it's called SMOOTH operator... SMOOTH... smooth.... no? You're right, let's sing this song with all sharp notes and fuck up the chorus. How? you ask.... I have NO fucking idea, but my ear drums were bleeding and I can no longer hear high octaves.... thanks. I didn't really need to use my ears anyway- I mean they were just for look... I like that my talent is the ability to do splatter paint out of my ear canal...
Another thing I noticed, is that I only judged the people who really thought they should be on American idol. I was like, I get it, you can't sing - you are having a good time (I will say Mr. One note, he was not acting like hot shit - he was just belting out what God gave him - though God is probably regretting that decision). There are some people that SERIOUSLY are like, "people like to hear me," "my mom tells me I have a fabulous voice," "I once had a solo in our high school play" blah blah blah... you sound like a goat.
There is no hope for you or Stevie Nix.
Did I sing? No
a) Not nearly drunk enough
b) I try to only torture people I love. :)
You wanna hear me sing, play rockband with me - you'll then become a pro at ear canal splatter paint.
First thing I do is go in the beautiful sun... and get burnt. Yup, the shiny white skin I've got does not do well when it hasn't seen the sun in 3 months (or more). An hour and a half and I'm burnt on both sides of my body... so me and the sun took a break from each other.
H'ok, I've got my things. Certain things that annoy the crap out of me. Bad grammar is one of them (not that I am a pro and speaking and spelling - but obvious stupid grammar mistakes just get me riled up) and spelling words all fucked up. It bothers me. Like "skillz" or "luv" - seriously, it takes two seconds to spell them correctly... Life is not a tweet, there is not a limited amount of space to express yourself. Shit, I get unlimited texting when I'm stateside just so that I DON'T have to sound like I'm in first grade. Yeah, I do it, I pay an extra $5 so that my spelling is correct. Try to judge me.
Anyway, that was a random rant, I do have a point.
I HATE when people mispronounce Japanese words. Maybe it's my upbringing, maybe I'm hoity-toity. Yes, it is a bit odd but Japanese is like the easiest language to pronounce... a i u e o, is pronounced ah, ee, oo, eh, oh. The whole damn alphabet is practically like that, just freaking add a letter. ka ki ku ke ko (kah, kee, koo, keh, koh)... HOW THE HELL can a waitress at a Japanese restaraunt pronounce nigiri (ni-gi-ri) LIKE THE COUNTRY NIGER. SERIOUSLY. YOU WORK AT A FREAKIN JAPANESE RESTARAUNT. She has single handedly offended ME, the JAPANESE, and probably the people of Niger. I tried not to listen to her butcher the rest of the Japanese food but luckily the menu had rolls with fun names like, "Casanova" and "Nemo" so that idiots like her won't make the rest of the country sound stupid.
Unless of course she pronounces it like "Kay-san-ova" or "nem - oh" in which case, I retract all these statements because she probably has a severe learning disability and calling her stupid is no longer funny. One could only hope.
Ok, going on, I went to karaoke (pronounced ka-ra-oh-keh) with my bf and his friends yesterday. It was fun. I didn't really get a chance to really talk to them - instead I made friends with my neighbors to my left who were a mix of Jamaicans and a couple of white guys... Yes, hilarity did ensue but only because I'm me and my internal monologue sometimes kills me.
1) First song of the night! I SWEAR by all for one. Yes, I swear. And one of the guys to my left sang it... he cracked a few times and then asked for another drink... I did too. I almost forgot that All-4-one existed and my life was complete. Thank you for bringing back the memories of puberty.
2) The one note wonder. He sang, "Don't you want me"... in monotone. "Don't, don't you want me" a million times with the same flat note - not as much fun as you would think... HOWEVER, it wouldn't be so weird but he also wore almost all black and had a few piercings on his face (i think) and huge ear gauges... it was an odd mix. You'd think he'd do something like beautiful people by marylin manson.... This is when I realized I was way too sober to be watching this because instead of just going with it - I stared. "No, I don't want you, in fact, I want you gone... like now, it hurts us precious"
3) I found tons of irony starting with MR. one note. Then it was topped by a terrible rendition of Stupid girl... yes, I said it some girl sang stupid girl and did it badly. Wow.
4)There were other crazy songs where I'm like, "look - that's just wrong" and there were some actual funny ones - like the guy who sang "I touch myself" - he knew he couldn't sing, he knew he was drunk, but man, he was a SHOWMAN. I would listen to him because he was just fun to watch... even though he probably could've touched himself less....
5) Lastly, someone tried to sing Sade's "smooth operator"... Yes, it was nails on a chalk board... it's called SMOOTH operator... SMOOTH... smooth.... no? You're right, let's sing this song with all sharp notes and fuck up the chorus. How? you ask.... I have NO fucking idea, but my ear drums were bleeding and I can no longer hear high octaves.... thanks. I didn't really need to use my ears anyway- I mean they were just for look... I like that my talent is the ability to do splatter paint out of my ear canal...
Another thing I noticed, is that I only judged the people who really thought they should be on American idol. I was like, I get it, you can't sing - you are having a good time (I will say Mr. One note, he was not acting like hot shit - he was just belting out what God gave him - though God is probably regretting that decision). There are some people that SERIOUSLY are like, "people like to hear me," "my mom tells me I have a fabulous voice," "I once had a solo in our high school play" blah blah blah... you sound like a goat.
There is no hope for you or Stevie Nix.
Did I sing? No
a) Not nearly drunk enough
b) I try to only torture people I love. :)
You wanna hear me sing, play rockband with me - you'll then become a pro at ear canal splatter paint.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Judgement Day
I'm not one to normally judge people - I just notice things that most people don't notice and I find them hilarious or disgusting... Well Florida, we've got some work to do because I'm being judgy...
I went to the beach with my sister to enjoy some sun, some drinks, some good company... and I couldn't help but notice some disturbing things:
1. Boob jobs. Now before you think I'm just plain hating - its not true. I want a boob job after kids if I feel my boobs are not up to par. Seriously. Something tasteful NOT something that would prevent me from seeing my bellybutton. I happen to like my belly button. Going on, There are ALOT of them. I mean, why do we all need D cups? You'll have to part the White Sea of boob flesh if you ever want to see your feet... I don't get it. And it's like an older thing. What is it with boobs anyway? They are mammary glands, and you lose sensitivity sometimes when you get them so it has to be a vain thing... BUT It's not just a boob job thing either - it's mixed with:
2. Leather skin. I know there is probably something called a Tanning Addiction. It might not be in the DSM-IV yet (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) but I bet you someone has thought about it. I mean at what point do you look in the mirror and say, "You know, my skin just doesn't look enough like John Wayne." It's not younger people (probably because the sun damage isn't at an all time high) but like old ladies. I mean, did you see the movie Something about Mary with the old leather lady... I was like if that lady smiles, she will crack her face. Or I saw people that just looked like odd colors - not brown but brown red. AND it focuses on the parts that sag... So I'm staring at saggy leather, almost cracked skin... it hurts us precious. yeah that was the beach - except almost everyone was blubborous... with saggy skin - how do those two things live together on the same body, i dont' know, its a conundrum.
3. FURTHERMORE - Some bathing suits should not be worn by normal people. Ok, First off, those bathing suits that are "faux one pieces," they are like one piece with cut outs in the sides and back... the ONLY people that look good in these are models:
a) because they don't eat
b) They arent worried about fucked up tan lines - they tan naked.
I saw a lady, and I seriously felt sorry for her because she was wearing one of these and all it did was show her side fat rolls. Why? WHY? I mean, I have my sisters and friends that will prevent me from leaving the house if I look like a two-dollar call girl - They will stop me from BUYING something that will not flatter my shape (if I had a shape, and I didn't look so much like a little boy).
4. Lastly, Bellys are deceiving in bikinis. I thought people were pregnant and they were not. (I had Yonie telling me - umm... not I don't think so...) I don't want everyone to think that I think pregnant ladies in bikinis are gross because I'm totally ALL about it. If I'm pregnant (while I fear all of those reasons I mentioned in a earlier blog) I pray that I'll be one of those women who just feels sexy. (My luck, I'm one of those women who'll puke for 6 months, but hey one can wish.) I just hate that I can't tell. Some people hold their weight in their tummy's but I'm so scared one day I'll be like, "so when are you due" and get hit or make someone cry. So I never ask... :(
My last little things are babies at the beach... They are freakin cuter than puppies playing with toilet paper (the soft kind, not the rip you a new asshole kind). OH, my baby is totally wearing a hat and I'm getting it some digging tools. I seriously loved all the babies (chubby, skinny, ugly), they are ALL cute on the beach. Let's be honest ALL bathing suits look huge on babies butts (because of the diaper) OR they have those chubby little legs OR they have the little tummy's that stick out... EITHER WAY - I fall in love with stranger's children.
Luckily I'm not a 50 year old man who is blubberous with leather skin in a tight bathing suit and huge boobs - because then this obsession would probably land me in jail.
P.S. Yon and I discussed my chubby baby obsession, and we've both decided that I probably won't be able to produce one...
HOWEVER, I could possibly produce a cute tiny monkey cuddly baby. I'll take it.
I went to the beach with my sister to enjoy some sun, some drinks, some good company... and I couldn't help but notice some disturbing things:
1. Boob jobs. Now before you think I'm just plain hating - its not true. I want a boob job after kids if I feel my boobs are not up to par. Seriously. Something tasteful NOT something that would prevent me from seeing my bellybutton. I happen to like my belly button. Going on, There are ALOT of them. I mean, why do we all need D cups? You'll have to part the White Sea of boob flesh if you ever want to see your feet... I don't get it. And it's like an older thing. What is it with boobs anyway? They are mammary glands, and you lose sensitivity sometimes when you get them so it has to be a vain thing... BUT It's not just a boob job thing either - it's mixed with:
2. Leather skin. I know there is probably something called a Tanning Addiction. It might not be in the DSM-IV yet (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) but I bet you someone has thought about it. I mean at what point do you look in the mirror and say, "You know, my skin just doesn't look enough like John Wayne." It's not younger people (probably because the sun damage isn't at an all time high) but like old ladies. I mean, did you see the movie Something about Mary with the old leather lady... I was like if that lady smiles, she will crack her face. Or I saw people that just looked like odd colors - not brown but brown red. AND it focuses on the parts that sag... So I'm staring at saggy leather, almost cracked skin... it hurts us precious. yeah that was the beach - except almost everyone was blubborous... with saggy skin - how do those two things live together on the same body, i dont' know, its a conundrum.
3. FURTHERMORE - Some bathing suits should not be worn by normal people. Ok, First off, those bathing suits that are "faux one pieces," they are like one piece with cut outs in the sides and back... the ONLY people that look good in these are models:
a) because they don't eat
b) They arent worried about fucked up tan lines - they tan naked.
I saw a lady, and I seriously felt sorry for her because she was wearing one of these and all it did was show her side fat rolls. Why? WHY? I mean, I have my sisters and friends that will prevent me from leaving the house if I look like a two-dollar call girl - They will stop me from BUYING something that will not flatter my shape (if I had a shape, and I didn't look so much like a little boy).
4. Lastly, Bellys are deceiving in bikinis. I thought people were pregnant and they were not. (I had Yonie telling me - umm... not I don't think so...) I don't want everyone to think that I think pregnant ladies in bikinis are gross because I'm totally ALL about it. If I'm pregnant (while I fear all of those reasons I mentioned in a earlier blog) I pray that I'll be one of those women who just feels sexy. (My luck, I'm one of those women who'll puke for 6 months, but hey one can wish.) I just hate that I can't tell. Some people hold their weight in their tummy's but I'm so scared one day I'll be like, "so when are you due" and get hit or make someone cry. So I never ask... :(
My last little things are babies at the beach... They are freakin cuter than puppies playing with toilet paper (the soft kind, not the rip you a new asshole kind). OH, my baby is totally wearing a hat and I'm getting it some digging tools. I seriously loved all the babies (chubby, skinny, ugly), they are ALL cute on the beach. Let's be honest ALL bathing suits look huge on babies butts (because of the diaper) OR they have those chubby little legs OR they have the little tummy's that stick out... EITHER WAY - I fall in love with stranger's children.
Luckily I'm not a 50 year old man who is blubberous with leather skin in a tight bathing suit and huge boobs - because then this obsession would probably land me in jail.
P.S. Yon and I discussed my chubby baby obsession, and we've both decided that I probably won't be able to produce one...
HOWEVER, I could possibly produce a cute tiny monkey cuddly baby. I'll take it.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Boring Blog...
So.... I'm back in the US. Driving is a must... which I haven't done for three months. Yes, I freaked out on Devin because he pushed on the brakes a little too hard WHILE looking for music on his MP3 player... Ok, he had like 10 feet, ok, I had a seat belt on, ok, I white knuckled the "oh shit" bar... I felt a little psycho but I'm a girl on the edge...
Onward, so today had a chik fil a sangwhich. It was DELICIOUS so I ordered two. I didn't eat to but I wanted the option y'know (refer to blog where Americans love fast food). This was important because I needed my title and my driver's license update and sustenance. There is nothing better than a dry buttery chicken biscut with a medium coffee and hazelnut creamer to make your day start out right... I know, now you are thinking, "Oh god, the DMV... this is going to be good." Well, sorry. No.
I went to the DMV and it was like I entered a very efficient gate to Heaven, like the restaurant version of Heaven. Let me explain, while Good Ol' Saint Peter might be able to say yes or no, what about the in-betweeners, what if they want options or y'know needed to learn to parallel park... they have to go somewhere. just follow me DON'T JUDGE MY ANALOGY.
Well, apparently that is the front desk at the DMV. You have to go there first: like the hostess... She/he (I'm pretty sure she was a she) gives you a number. Well, there is like almost no way to figure out how long the line is going to be, BUT there are 20 stations open and people are moving quite quickly. Like Heaven, you can't use debit/credit cards... you have to deal with cash only or a check (meaning, your soul has to be on you OR your bank gets your soul)... hell, the bank always gets your soul...
ANYWAY, so I sat there enjoying the clean area, the not so long wait just to be told that I couldn't update my title (because I didn't have proof of insurance) or my ID (because I didn't have proof of residency) but I didn't mind because the lady was nice and informative. "Welcome, oh, I'm so sorry, y'know that one time you got drunk and streak across Landis.. yeah, you're gonna need the paperwork from your priest saying you said 20 hail mary's. Thank you so much - come again"
Hell came when we were driving home. There was like all this traffic and, anyone that knows me knows 1) I am a curse when it comes to lines (thank you God, I get it - MAYBE I should donate my time to the less fortunate instead of memorizing the dialogue to Lord of the Rings):
If you are in the fast line with me, you'll have a price check for 9 of the 10 items and then the person pays with nickels. I'm cursed (as is my father). I know when I go anywhere that involves a line (including fast food) I have to be there at least 30 min because I'm screwed.
2) I fucking hate traffic. I would rather take flaming shot and spray it on my arm, and I've done it.
WELL some person DECIDED to get in a fight with a telephone pole that controlled 15 square blocks... great... it took Dev and I 15 minutes to practically get out of the neighborhood... just to go back and get a temporary license plate. (Not a real one mind you, a temp...)
My second trip though longer was a bit more interesting. There was this little black kid who kept hitting his head on counter. It was kinda fun to watch and then he FREAKED out and started acting like a dinosaur for 3 seconds. Literally. Then started banging his head again. And like a good mother, his mom had no reaction. Didn't even notice. Kid slaps head against counter, becomes zombie boy (for 3 seconds), then returns to brain damage. Good job timmy.
Ok, I'll end this blog, it's stupid.
Oh and that asshole that wrecked the power lines - I hope he got electrocuted and then his nuts caught on fire.
Ok, now I'm done.
P.s. 2 whiskey cokes, 1 vodka pinapple, 1 margarita. It's a good day.
Thanks God.
Onward, so today had a chik fil a sangwhich. It was DELICIOUS so I ordered two. I didn't eat to but I wanted the option y'know (refer to blog where Americans love fast food). This was important because I needed my title and my driver's license update and sustenance. There is nothing better than a dry buttery chicken biscut with a medium coffee and hazelnut creamer to make your day start out right... I know, now you are thinking, "Oh god, the DMV... this is going to be good." Well, sorry. No.
I went to the DMV and it was like I entered a very efficient gate to Heaven, like the restaurant version of Heaven. Let me explain, while Good Ol' Saint Peter might be able to say yes or no, what about the in-betweeners, what if they want options or y'know needed to learn to parallel park... they have to go somewhere. just follow me DON'T JUDGE MY ANALOGY.
Well, apparently that is the front desk at the DMV. You have to go there first: like the hostess... She/he (I'm pretty sure she was a she) gives you a number. Well, there is like almost no way to figure out how long the line is going to be, BUT there are 20 stations open and people are moving quite quickly. Like Heaven, you can't use debit/credit cards... you have to deal with cash only or a check (meaning, your soul has to be on you OR your bank gets your soul)... hell, the bank always gets your soul...
ANYWAY, so I sat there enjoying the clean area, the not so long wait just to be told that I couldn't update my title (because I didn't have proof of insurance) or my ID (because I didn't have proof of residency) but I didn't mind because the lady was nice and informative. "Welcome, oh, I'm so sorry, y'know that one time you got drunk and streak across Landis.. yeah, you're gonna need the paperwork from your priest saying you said 20 hail mary's. Thank you so much - come again"
Hell came when we were driving home. There was like all this traffic and, anyone that knows me knows 1) I am a curse when it comes to lines (thank you God, I get it - MAYBE I should donate my time to the less fortunate instead of memorizing the dialogue to Lord of the Rings):
If you are in the fast line with me, you'll have a price check for 9 of the 10 items and then the person pays with nickels. I'm cursed (as is my father). I know when I go anywhere that involves a line (including fast food) I have to be there at least 30 min because I'm screwed.
2) I fucking hate traffic. I would rather take flaming shot and spray it on my arm, and I've done it.
WELL some person DECIDED to get in a fight with a telephone pole that controlled 15 square blocks... great... it took Dev and I 15 minutes to practically get out of the neighborhood... just to go back and get a temporary license plate. (Not a real one mind you, a temp...)
My second trip though longer was a bit more interesting. There was this little black kid who kept hitting his head on counter. It was kinda fun to watch and then he FREAKED out and started acting like a dinosaur for 3 seconds. Literally. Then started banging his head again. And like a good mother, his mom had no reaction. Didn't even notice. Kid slaps head against counter, becomes zombie boy (for 3 seconds), then returns to brain damage. Good job timmy.
Ok, I'll end this blog, it's stupid.
Oh and that asshole that wrecked the power lines - I hope he got electrocuted and then his nuts caught on fire.
Ok, now I'm done.
P.s. 2 whiskey cokes, 1 vodka pinapple, 1 margarita. It's a good day.
Thanks God.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Traveling… oh the things I’ve seen
This little travel adventure has not been very adventurous. I have noticed a few things that give me pause and make me feel, to be honest, a bit uncomfortable… I know you are wondering, what in the hell could make Athena feel uncomfortable, she likes to walk around naked, she gets drunk and falls all over herself, she’s not shy about puking… the list goes on.. What? WHAT COULD IT BE??!?!
Toilet paper. I ate KFC at the airport (it was delicious though I could almost literally feel the grease killing me slowly) and was given some napkins. They were the softest paper napkins on the planet… Ok OK, maybe just Prague. If you ever go potty in Prage, they have this brown sandpaper that really just makes you feel like you violate yourself when you wipe. You pray that you only have to do a once-over and NEVER ever have to do a twofer… I was sitting here wondering why Col. Sanders understands that I need softness to wipe my mouth after ingesting enough calories to make an elephant gain weight, but the entire country in Prague has no idea that my “special places” deserve the same kind of treatment.
THEN I get on the plane… The place that offers you drinks like every two hours and noticed that there, they had ONE ply toilet paper. Yes, its like peeing in your hands when you wipe. It’s gross and it’s NOT economical – girls know that you triple or quadruple that shit because you don’t want shit on your hands (literally or otherwise). I mean if they invested in some quality toilet paper, I would not only not need to use as much, but my tushy would really appreciate that someone thought of her and her very special needs. How can this be so hard? I mean, everyone has to go… I would think this would be on the top of the list for customer service. IN FACT, the next time I go to a restaurant and they have you know some real quality toilet paper, I may have to just tell the manager how appreciative my vajayjay is that he invested in quality toilet paper. It seems like such a little thing, but it makes a huge difference.
Well, now I have a layover that is like 3 hours long so I decided to watch babies. Yes, I LOVE FAT CHUBBY BABIES! But watching kids seriously is better than watching like obese people fighting over the last twinkie. This is why, so I’m sitting there watching this one little boy we’ll call grandma’s boy. He was looking for his grandmother. She was like hiding behind a post or something… but this kid seriously started to get scared and almost walked out of the terminal and since grandma was hiding – she didn’t see it till he was almost out of eyesight. I thought of yelling, “You’re kid is running into the abyss!” but instead, I just watched granny freak out… I say 1 kid 0 grandma.
Which made me catch the attention of another kid called Dylan aka “hellboy.” His mom was at the front desk talking I guess, not really paying attention to him… and he’s being a kid, running around his stroller – well this other lady had another stroller with like a 4 month old in it, now SHE’S not paying attention either because hell boy looks at this other kid and kinda smacks him in the tummy (not hard, I would have said something) but enough to wake the baby up. Well, the mom continues on and the baby now is shaking its arms in anger and disgust that he was disturbed and the mother has no idea why the kid is crying. Meanwhile, hellboy notices and no joke, he jumps into his stroller like nothing happened. Now, after watching this kid for about 40 min afterward… his mom should’ve known something was up. This is ran in circles for 30 min AT LEAST while I was sitting here – to the point where he was beet red and panting. He even stole the stroller from his mom and pushed it in a circle too… Now his mother was like, you want some pizza… ok this kid is like 3 years old running around going crazy, hitting random children and mom thinks that MAYBE he needs more energy instead of some, I don’t know, tranquilizers… so she goes, (like an idiot) “let’s sit down and have some pizza”. Now, I already know hellboy is working mom, he wants the pizza but he’s not sitting down – no way. He gets the pizza and jets to the window putting pizza slime on the window. His mom just chasing after him… I’m all for letting kids have freedom – but I’d have smacked a bitch. Just sayin.
While I did enjoy the whole watching mom get tortured by hellboy, I started to reminisce about how childhood friendships used to go.
Dick: Hey , sometimes I pee my pants
Jane: Me too.
Dick: Let’s be best friends
Jane: OK.
I miss that, I guess we have different ways of making friends now but still… ok gotta go. We are boarding.
Toilet paper. I ate KFC at the airport (it was delicious though I could almost literally feel the grease killing me slowly) and was given some napkins. They were the softest paper napkins on the planet… Ok OK, maybe just Prague. If you ever go potty in Prage, they have this brown sandpaper that really just makes you feel like you violate yourself when you wipe. You pray that you only have to do a once-over and NEVER ever have to do a twofer… I was sitting here wondering why Col. Sanders understands that I need softness to wipe my mouth after ingesting enough calories to make an elephant gain weight, but the entire country in Prague has no idea that my “special places” deserve the same kind of treatment.
THEN I get on the plane… The place that offers you drinks like every two hours and noticed that there, they had ONE ply toilet paper. Yes, its like peeing in your hands when you wipe. It’s gross and it’s NOT economical – girls know that you triple or quadruple that shit because you don’t want shit on your hands (literally or otherwise). I mean if they invested in some quality toilet paper, I would not only not need to use as much, but my tushy would really appreciate that someone thought of her and her very special needs. How can this be so hard? I mean, everyone has to go… I would think this would be on the top of the list for customer service. IN FACT, the next time I go to a restaurant and they have you know some real quality toilet paper, I may have to just tell the manager how appreciative my vajayjay is that he invested in quality toilet paper. It seems like such a little thing, but it makes a huge difference.
Well, now I have a layover that is like 3 hours long so I decided to watch babies. Yes, I LOVE FAT CHUBBY BABIES! But watching kids seriously is better than watching like obese people fighting over the last twinkie. This is why, so I’m sitting there watching this one little boy we’ll call grandma’s boy. He was looking for his grandmother. She was like hiding behind a post or something… but this kid seriously started to get scared and almost walked out of the terminal and since grandma was hiding – she didn’t see it till he was almost out of eyesight. I thought of yelling, “You’re kid is running into the abyss!” but instead, I just watched granny freak out… I say 1 kid 0 grandma.
Which made me catch the attention of another kid called Dylan aka “hellboy.” His mom was at the front desk talking I guess, not really paying attention to him… and he’s being a kid, running around his stroller – well this other lady had another stroller with like a 4 month old in it, now SHE’S not paying attention either because hell boy looks at this other kid and kinda smacks him in the tummy (not hard, I would have said something) but enough to wake the baby up. Well, the mom continues on and the baby now is shaking its arms in anger and disgust that he was disturbed and the mother has no idea why the kid is crying. Meanwhile, hellboy notices and no joke, he jumps into his stroller like nothing happened. Now, after watching this kid for about 40 min afterward… his mom should’ve known something was up. This is ran in circles for 30 min AT LEAST while I was sitting here – to the point where he was beet red and panting. He even stole the stroller from his mom and pushed it in a circle too… Now his mother was like, you want some pizza… ok this kid is like 3 years old running around going crazy, hitting random children and mom thinks that MAYBE he needs more energy instead of some, I don’t know, tranquilizers… so she goes, (like an idiot) “let’s sit down and have some pizza”. Now, I already know hellboy is working mom, he wants the pizza but he’s not sitting down – no way. He gets the pizza and jets to the window putting pizza slime on the window. His mom just chasing after him… I’m all for letting kids have freedom – but I’d have smacked a bitch. Just sayin.
While I did enjoy the whole watching mom get tortured by hellboy, I started to reminisce about how childhood friendships used to go.
Dick: Hey , sometimes I pee my pants
Jane: Me too.
Dick: Let’s be best friends
Jane: OK.
I miss that, I guess we have different ways of making friends now but still… ok gotta go. We are boarding.
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