How My Last Night Went

There’s not really spoilers for Game of Thrones in this that you wouldn’t already know by Episode 3 of Season 1, but just in case you’re one of those frightened people who need total anonymity and never look at the internet: LOOK AWAY IT’S ABOUT GAME OF THRONES!!!

Me: “I’M DONE WITH YOU, GAME OF THRONES! WHY. THE. FUCK. DO YOU KEEP KILLING ALL THE CHARACTERS I LIKE?!”
Me: *hands tossed into air, leaves room for ten minutes. Flop angrily back down because my husband hasn’t turned it off yet*
Me: “…”
*show ends*
Me: “…wait. There are dragons?”
Donny: “Yep.”
Me: “…”
Me: “…”
Me: “…GOD DAMN YOU, GAME OF THRONES!!!”

And finally, I leave you with this.

Point proven.

31 for 31 – A Look Back

Last year, I stole an awesome idea from one of my internet stalkees, Alida, and I did the 31-for-31 thingie.  I liked it so much, I’m going to do it again for my birthday this year!  (For quick refreshment: In Part 1, you are meant to list 31 things you want to do this year.  In part 2, you are meant to list 31 things you’ve learned this year.)

Of my 31 to-dos, here was what I accomplished:

  1. Get my arm back to 100% (or preferably, 120%) - Yeah bitches!!!  I’M BIONIC NOW!  And thankfully, the scar healed up a bit more so I can be less vain about being attacked by Somali pirates.  But the plate sticks out all the time and it’s still frustratingly uncomfortable (as well as one of the screws starting to work its way out), so I may end up removing it soon.  We’ll see.
  2. Be diligent with physical therapy, and stop being so pig-headed and impatient about how long it takes to freaking heal a stupid bone (Ahem.) - I followed this advice, which is why my arm is super-ridiculously-strong now.  My husband, who separated his shoulder JUST AS I WAS GETTING BETTER last March, did not do his physical therapy, and now looks like the Huncharm of Houston.  I told him that would happen, and he was pig-headed and impatient, and that’s what he gets for it.  I can’t take him anywhere with me now.  (Just kidding, baby.  You’re still beautiful.)
  3. Buy a boat (30-34ft preferably) - Bought a 32ft catamaran!  Husband spent about two months solid fixing it up in North Carolina while I worked on the house watched Netflix.
  4. Start jogging - I actually started jogging in March 2012 (as soon as my doctor said I could), and then I got a workout buddy and started going to high-intensity spin classes shortly thereafter.
  5. Get good enough at jogging to start running (if doctor says it’s okay!) - See above!
  6. Lose 25 pounds (minimum) - I lost 35 pounds.  :)  Spin classes paid off! Continue reading

Why Mother Teresa was the Effing Bomb.

“People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.

If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway.

If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway.

The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway.

For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.”
— Mother Teresa

Yeah, I know…a rare moment of seriousness, or whatever.  But sometimes when life gets you down, no matter what your religious beliefs (or lack thereof), you must remember to persevere.  It’s not about receiving something back for doing good.  It’s about doing good.  I have never done something selfless and not felt amazing for it.  I may have never seen the reward for my actions, but I know that there was reward, piling up somewhere in the ether like coins in a Mario Bros game.

And one day, I’m going to be swimming in coins, bitches!!

:D

Remember today to do something good.  Take it from Mama T.

Why You Should Not Spoon Taylor

I’ve spent the last six months almost-writing a blog post, but now bitches, this is happening.  Prepare yourselves.

We’re going to start with a story.  Get your blankies and your giraffe hats, and gather around.

A long time ago, in a land   So one time, I was dating this guy.  Super sweet, cheek-pinchingly adorable guy.  Wouldn’t harm a fly.  He was that guy that would be helping old ladies across the street, didn’t curse (so you knew our relationship was doomed), didn’t have any vices except for video games and a slightly-too-comfortable relationship with all his guy friends.  (Like, they’d have sleep-overs and one of them drove a Miata.  I’m not judging, I’m just saying.  It was suspect.)

Right, so, super-nice dude.  We’d been dating for, what, two months?  Long enough for him to realize I was totally the most amazing person on the planet, but not long enough to say, warrant me yelling at him for anything.  He was still holding in his farts around me, so I guess we were in the honeymoon period.

He still lived with his parents (and I being the older and wiser of the two, had an apartment), so he stayed over at my place a lot.  We were still at the “we love to just cuddle all the time” phase.  Anyway, we snuggle into bed, and he cuddles in behind me like a super-sweet guy would do.  He nuzzles his head into my hair, murmuring something about how I smelled like gingerbread (what?), and falls asleep.  I drift off into dreamland, lovely comforted by the warmth of his body.

Except it couldn’t have been that comforting, because I started having a dream about getting into a fight.  I have no memory of the dream.  I just remember I was in that halfway-to-sleep, halfway-awake part of the REM cycle, where you twitch a lot.  So in the dream, someone takes a swing at my face, and hits me in the jaw.

Half-asleep, I lurch my head back…right into his nose.  Hard.

Y’all, I broke. His. Nose.

I wake up to a kind of dull ache in the back of my head, and my poor boyfriend, screeching like a banshee.

I know what you’re thinking…”How rude of him to wake Taylor up like that!  She was trying to sleep.”  And I appreciate that, because it’s totally true.  Plus I was traumatized by some whore trying to suckerpunch me in the jaw, so I was already kind of shaken up.

Seriously, no joke.  Blood is gushing everywhere.  All over my leopard print sheets, all over his face.  He’s crying, I’m crying.  It was a whole big ordeal.

I tell you this because I had a dream last night, where I was fighting with a kangaroo (playfully.  That motherfucker would have laid me out if he’d wanted to), and in my dream, he hit me in the face and I jerked back my head while waking up, and for a split second all I could think was OMG I HOPE HUSBAND ISN’T SPOONING ME.

And he was.  I could feel his arm curled lovingly around my waist as I was sobering from the dream, and I remember just gasping really loudly, like I was already expecting the collision.

But then, by some sheer miracle, he had his head tilted back just far enough that he escaped the head attack.  I don’t understand how that happened, but thank God.  He is far less accepting than the first guy I beat up with my punch-dreams.  He’d probably make a big deal out of it, and want me to drive him to the hospital and shit, and I just wasn’t in the mood for that kind of drama on a Monday morning.

Bullet dodged.  But now, I think he might need to wear protective head gear, just in case.

 

Ponder This, My Pretties

Consider this wise phrase from George Carlin:

“The very existence of flame-throwers proves that some time, somewhere, someone said to themselves, ‘You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but I’m just not close enough to get the job done.’”

from nerdnirvana.org

Sometimes it’s one of those days where you just want to set everyone on fire.

WTF is a Fish Pedicure.

No, I’m serious.  WTF.

I saw something on Google News about fish pedicures causing all kinds of illnesses.  I sort of assumed it had to do with fish eating your feet (since I’ve had numerous forays into river swimming and had those fuckers nibble on me if I slowed down long enough), but I mean…why??  Are you too good to scrub your own feet?  You want some fish to do it for you?  How about just give the guys some real fish food instead of your skin leftovers.

But no seriously, I want one.

Also, I do like the new word I learned today: Ichthyotherapy.

Next up, they will bring back leeches to cure our ailments.  I’d like to give a shout out to Willem Dafoe, for making leeches even creepier.  If you don’t know the movie reference, you may waste 2 hours of your time watching Speed 2 to see what I mean.  Or you can just look at this picture and imagine him putting leeches all over his torso at the same time.

No, Dafoe.  No.

 

Please tell me one of you has had a fish pedicure.

31 for 31, Part 2

And we’re back for Part 2 of the 31 for 31!  (For those that are here for the first time and are feeling lost, you can go here to see Part 1).

Part 2 begins!

31 Things Life has Taught Me (So Far):

  1. Things are never black and white.* (Except for pandas and zebras.)
  2. Everything is a social construction.  Race, ethnicity, gender, class, sexual orientation, political affiliation, monogamy, how you should wear your hair, how you should dress, how you should speak, what you should eat, taboos, what is and isn’t legal, money…it’s all a construct of society.  What’s considered normal to you is not normal – it’s just a social construction.  Things are treated as normal or abnormal because people agree to treat it that way.  The next time you make a judgment based on someone’s sexuality, what color their hair or skin is, how many tattoos or piercings they have, how much money they have, take a beat and remember that it’s all a social construct.  There’s no such thing as race – we are all people.  Money is only paper and metal coins – we give meaning to it.  We created social constructs as a way of continuing an “Us versus Them” mentality.  If we say that someone is Black and another is White, we can separate them into categories and apply value to one category over another.  If we say that he is Democrat and she is Republican, we can then assign value to those terms and it allows us to discriminate, judge, and marginalize people (when usually, their belief systems align more often than not).  It’s a social construct that men are Continue reading