There's A Cat In My Future

Cats are the devil, and I fucking hate them. Maybe it's because I used to be allergic to them. Maybe it's because my cat Kira that I had when I was little scratched my eyeball. I don't know. But I fucking hate them.

They always smell like cat poop. Dogs have a distinct dog smell, and their shit has a smell, but they don't smell like their shit. Cats, on the otherhand, always smell like they just rolled in their own feces before parading around the house.

The crawl everywhere. Tito jumps on you, and sits on your face, but he doesn't jump on the kitchen counters. He isn't going to pounce on me from on top of the bedroom door. A cat will do those things. Get outta the kitchen, cat, that's the women's territory.

Tito doesn't growl. He only barks when someone knocks. Cats his, and claw you, and they are just so fucking mean. They don't love you like a dog was. If my house was on fire, Tito would try with all his might to drag me out. A cat? It would run the fuck away and never come back, except to munch on my lifeless body. Cats are heartless.

Now, the reason I have told you this is because Andrew and I are getting a kitten. I don't know why I'm doing this, other than the fact that I am blinded by love, and have no control over my actions at this point. But he loves kittens and cats and I just want him to be happy.

Anyways, we're going to look at them today, and I just don't know how to feel about it. Part of me is excited because, whether I want to admit it or not, kittens are cute. And Tito loves kittens. It will be good for him to have a friend.

Another part of me is wondering what the hell I'm doing with my life. Why can't I just grow some balls and say 'no cats!' But I can't. I can't do it. I cannot bring myself to crush all of Andrew's hopes and dreams. Maybe he really does wear the pants.

Now, maybe this wouldn't be so bad, but both him AND my roommate want a black cat... What? I fucking hate black cats the most. They look evil. With their beady little eyes... Ew. It gives me the creeps.

So, hopefully today goes well, and we can decide on a kitten that's white, or black and white. Not black. Fuck.

I'm High

So, I have a problem. I have cysts on my ovaries. They have been causing severe pain for weeks now. Today is no different. But I missed work yesterday because of the pain, so I couldn't call in again. So what did I do?

I took a Lortab.

Before coming to work.

My head is floating.

There were literally five minutes when I kept calling myself 'shank' instead of 'Shaye.'

I know what's going on, but I have no control.

The drive to work was absolutely beautiful.

I want nachos.

This was the worst idea I've ever had. Just kidding. I'm so fucking happy right now.

Women Wear the Pants

Women. They think they know everything. Women have been breaking the rules. They've been breaking out and leaving the kitchen. They've abandoned their sandwich stations. They've started talking back and getting jobs. What happened to the good ol' days, when dinner was ready when you got home from work? It seems so long ago...

It started slow, one day you came home and dinner wasn't ready on time. You let it slide, thinking it was just a one-time event. This, men, is where you went wrong. You should have put your foot down, then! You should have showed her that there are no excuses, dinner is to be ready when YOU want it to be ready! And now, it's too late.

Some weeks later, you go into the office, and there, sitting in Bob's desk, is a woman. At first you think nothing of it. Maybe it was his wife, because he forgot his lunch. And then something funny happens.. She doesn't leave. Bob's name tag is replaced with one that says "Sally," and every day, Sally keeps showing up in Bob's place. All the time, you worry. Who's making her husband's sandwiches? Who's cleaning the house and caring for the kids? How can this be happening?

It doesn't stop there. Soon women are in corporate offices. They're learning to fly planes and going to college. They're taking over the world! You panic, and start thinking back... You remember the first time your wife said, "make your own sandwich," and quietly wonder why you hadn't done anything about it back then, when you had the chance. You could have stopped this! You could have done something before it was too late!

Now, as you lay on the couch, wondering how it was that the woman got the power to make you sleep on the couch, you reminisce about the days when your loving and caring wife was still with you. Who is this woman who has taken over your home? Where did she come from? You stare down at the hole in your pants, and wonder how it was that she said 'no' to you when you told her to fix it for you. The more you think about it, the more you realize... It's too late. This has gone too far, and it cannot be fixed. Oh, how your father would be ashamed if he knew that your lady was controlling the household. You know that there are no options. This cannot be fixed.

You slowly slip into a slumber, hoping and praying of good dreams, ones that will tell you how to cope with this new realization. Instead you dream of being alone. There is no hope for you. The women have taken over your throne.

*This blog does not reflect my personal views on how men or women should be treated. I just think that sexist jokes are funny.*

The Day I Almost Died

First off, I fucking love all of you. I want you to know that, in case something happens to me. Now, maybe this seems random, but it's not. I had my very first near death experience the other day, and I have my roommates to thank for that.

I grew up a WARHEAD virgin. While all my friends were eating them and raving about how awesome they were, I stayed far away from them. Don't get me wrong, I love sour candy. However, the look on someone's face as they were eating a WARHEAD was enough to convince me to never eat one. Ever.

When I walked into the house one day to find some sitting on the counter, I quickly averted my gaze and set about my daily routine. I had no interest in trying one, and soon forgot they were even there. Unfortunately, my roommates did not.

Lindsey: "Shaye, do you want a WARHEAD?"

Me: "Uh.. No. I've never had one."

At this point, both her and Andrew threw a fit. How could anyone go their entire 20 years of existence without trying a WARHEAD? This thought baffled both of them. It was like I was some deprived child from Africa who had grown up starving and fighting for my life. I think they over-exaggerated a bit. They will disagree.

Now, normally I am not one to give into peer pressure. That's a lie, I cave instantly. But not when it comes to food! I am very picky, and I do not like when I eat something unpleasant. For me, that is one of the worst experiences a person can have, and it's something that stays with you forever. Now, I don't know why this day was any different, but it was. I caved to their persistent pressure to eat a fucking WARHEAD. This was the biggest mistake of my life.

When I said I would try one, they were both so excited. They handed me a yellow one, which, being a WARHEAD virgin, I had no idea that yellow is the worst. I unwrapped it and popped it into my mouth. 'Not too bad,' I thought. And then it hit me.

It was like a waterfall of sour torture hit my tongue, oozing from the inside of this candy. And it wouldn't fucking stop. The minute it hit me, my face contorted into a mix of sour and pain, and my eyes started watering. When the sour-ness wouldn't stop, the tears continues to flow. I was crying because of a piece of fucking candy. How can something so small cause so much fucking pain?? My mouth started salivating, causing me to drool on myself. I thought I was going to die.

And then, as quickly as it had started, it was over. The candy turned into a harmless little lemon head, and I was stuck sitting there, wondering what had just happened. One moment, my life was flashing before my eyes, as I helplessly sat there, and one moment everything was back to normal, as I stared into the amused faces of Lindsey and Andrew.

I learned a lesson from all of this. I hate WARHEADS, and never again will I put my life into the hands of my evil roommates. Nor will I ever indulge in a WARHEAD again.

Conversationally Retarded

I am a social butterfly. I am one of those people who, when shoved into the middle of a group of people, will befriend everyone in that group (aside from the slutty bitch who gives me the stink eye. I don't want to be her friend). I can be shy sometimes, when I know that the first impression matters. For example, when I meet the family of the person I'm dating, or when I start a new job and am trying to get along with all of my co-workers. But, for the most part, I can enter a conversation and get everyone to laugh and love me forever. Unfortunately, this is not always the case.

I have a problem controling my fucking mouth. No, I don't mean watching my language. Surprisingly, I'm able to keep that under control when needed. The problem is that I'm a rambler. Once I get started, my conversation has no limits, and eventually I'm forced to stop talking by the appalled look on the other person's face, causing me to realize that I had just crossed the invisible boundaries of 'things you shouldn't say out loud'. I think back, and realized how many times I'd talked about poop, or some other form of inappropriate conversation, and then think to myself, 'shit. I shouldn't talk to people like that.'

This causes problems in my life. For example, I once went to church with a kid I was dating, and started talking to his bishop. The conversation started out innocent, we introduced ourselves and made small talk with the weather. And then he asked me a question about my work. At the time, I worked at a pool, so I started telling him about lifeguarding and such. By the time I'd finished rambling, I was on the subject of cheating boyfriends and bitches I hated. And yes, I said bitches to him. Needless to say, I never returned to church with him again.

Another example? Today, one of my coworkers asked me about the people that have been stealing my food, and if I'd made any progress in my investigation in finding out who it was. I started talking, and by the time I was done, I was ranting about how no one has any respect for anyone or anything anymore, and I wished that parents would control their children in Wal-Mart. I stopped and looked at him, at which point he said, "Uh... I uh.. Have to go back to work. Bye."

I am conversationally retarded. I really should get some self control, otherwise I am slowly going to drive everyone away with my lack of conversation control. Maybe I should take conversation etiquette classes. Do they even have those? If not, someone should start some. I would, but obviously I am not fit to instruct others on how to hold a basic conversation. Someone, please help me.

Facebook Famous

Hey guys. We officially have a Facebook page! Like it and love it, bitches.

Just search Life as Shaye, and like it!

I love you all, and thank you so much for reading my blog! It makes me so happy to make you happy!

I'll keep everyone updated as far as when a blog is posted, as well as milestones we hit. (like today when we hit 3000 followers!)

Victory At Last

If you are a faithful blog reader, then you probably read my post about how I always lose at everything. Really, everything. Well, last night, I finally got my victory, and it was in the best possible way.

For almost the entirety of our relationship, Andrew and I have had a wet-willy war.  Yes, I know, maybe that's weird. But, it's us, and it happened. Now, considering the fact that I am much smaller than Andrew, it was extremely easy for him to pin me down and give me a double wet-willy the minute the wars started. That's how it went, every fucking time. Oh, and the worst time? He pinned me down, stuck his finger in MY mouth, and gave me one with my own fucking spit!

Now that you have heard that, it will be easier for you to comprehend how victorious I was last night. Really. It was fucking awesome, and I deserve a medal. Or five.

So I got home from work, and I was hanging out with Andrew, Jared, and Lindsey, and Andrew casually licked his finger and tried to give me a wet-willy. Unfortunately for him, I have some crazy fast refelexes (this is a lie) and I dodged his attempt. The fighting continues for a bit before I saw my chance.

He was on the couch, hands by his side. I jumped on him, pinned down his arms with my knees, and that's when I did it. I gave him a double wet-willy, and finished off by giving him one with his own spit.

I was so excited, and this was probably the greatest moment of my entire fucking life. And then, Andrew stuck his nasty sock foot in my mouth, and I almost vomitted.

The End.

Love

Today I want to talk about love, and about the person who taught me that, no matter what, love is worth it. If you don't like sappy, romantic stories, then you can stop here. Shit's about to get sappy.  

You all know about Andrew, my boyfriend. I've mentioned him before, and many of you know us personally. He is the love of my life.

I had a conversation with one of my friends the other day. She told me that she didn't want to fall in love, because she didn't want to have to go through the pain of losing them. I can understand that point of view, because there was a point in my life when I thought the same thing. I'd been hurt, cheated on, I'd seen divorce, and I just didn't want to engage in those feelings again. I didn't have a boyfriend that lasted more than a few weeks. The first two serious relationships I had both burned me and hurt me, and I honestly had given up. I didn't want to go through that again. And then I met Andrew, and for me, everything changed.

I was at a point in my life where I was happy with myself, and the way my life was going. I was independent, and had no plans of getting in a relationship with anyone. But from our first date, I knew that he was different. I knew that I would love him, and I knew that he wouldn't hurt me. I don't know how, but I knew.

It's been almost a year since we first met. Yes, I know that to many of you, that isn't very long. But I can tell you, that no matter how many hard times I had, and no matter how hard I struggled, it has been the best year of my life. I met Andrew, and he made everything worth it.

I fell in love with him so fast, and it hit me hard. I have never been this happy, and I honestly didn't know it was possible. And I wasn't the only one who knew. "You glow when you look at him." That's what my dad said when he saw us together, and my dad was not an easy man to please when it came to the boys that I dated. From the minute people saw us together, they knew that we were perfect. And so did we.

I won't lie, I have thought about what I would do if I were to lose him, and certain circumstances in my life have made this thought more prominent in my mind. What would I do without the love of my life? I can tell you that I don't know. I don't know what I would do. But I do know that I would be ok. That no matter what happens, I know that I would make it through. Why? Because I know that I have my love for him, and his love for me. I know that we have something special, and that no matter where life takes us, I will always have that. I honestly believe that it is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all. I know that the time that I have with him is special, and that these memories will last forever, and so will our love.

Now, I am not predicting that Andrew is going to die, because, let's face it, I honestly believe that he is invincible and that he's going to live forever. I don't ever want to lose him, and I don't ever plan on losing him. He is my rock, and I have an endless amount of love and adoration for him. He's simply not allowed to die. And we all know I wear the pants, so what I say goes. Isn't that right, babe?

Anyways, I want you all to know, that if you are scared to love and lose, don't be. Because the love that you have will be worth it. I am so happy to have Andrew in my life, and I couldn't ask for anyone better. Everyone should experience a love like this. Everyone should find someone that is so perfect for them, someone who shows them how beautiful life can be, and who makes them feel something that is so strong, it is undescribable.

I love you Andrew. Thank you for coming into my life, and changing it forever. I am so excited for our future together, and I know that it will be utterly amazing. You are my best friend, and the love of my life, and I couldn't ask for anything better.

And thank you to Maryveil and Steven for introducing us. You guys fucking rock.

Sometimes, I Hit Children

Due to an overwhelming request to write to my readers, and tell them about the worst day of my life, I am finally going to do it. Now, I know that a lot of you probably read the title of this blog and thought, 'That child-abusing bitch! Fuck her!' However, I am not a child abuser. So, you need not fucking worry. I hit the child with my car, not my fist. No big deal.

Okay, maybe it is a big deal. But who doesn't hit a child with their car at least once in their lifetime? Oh, okay, most people don't. What the fuck ever. Anyways, you need to know the story, and you need to know that this was not my fault. Just kidding, it totally was. Fuck.

So, it was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, and I had the day off of work. I had a lot of errands to run, because that's what fucking grown-ups do on their days off, and so I got ready and I was on my way. It really did start out as a fantastic day.

Now, everyone knows the rule "Right on Red." It doesn't matter what color the traffic light is, you can turn right whenever you fucking want, as long as there are no cars in the way (or bicyclists...) and as long as there isn't that annoying "No Right on Red" sign. Fuck that sign.

So, I was at a stoplight, which happened to be red. Luckily, I was turning right. Oh shit, I'm going on red! Anyways, there was no annoying sign banning me from righting on red, so I began looking for a break in traffic where I would have a good chance to make it into the gap, without killing myself, my car, or someone else.

Now, you need to know this. My greatest fear as a driver has always been hitting a pedestrian. Always. It scared the fucking shit of me from the time my hands first touched the steering wheel of my very first car. (Fuck that car for blowing up on the freeway in Boise.) Due to this fear (maybe you could call it a phobia, considering how much this terrified me), I was always very cautious when driving around cross walks, and I always looked for pedestrians. This day was no different.

As I scoured for my gap, I always did a quick inventory of the cross walks, all of which were pedestrian free. I found my gap, and did another quick scan. Everything was still clear.

Now, this was a small gap. I had a small car, and exceptional driving skills (haha), so I knew that I would be able to make this gap, if I just mashed on it a little bit. And so I did. And that's when it happened. I hit my first pedestrian.

Now, as I said before, when I looked, all cross walks were pedestrian free. This little fucker was sneaky. He rode up on his bike from behind me, and then cut right in front of me, no stops. Of course I didn't fucking look behind me for a pedestrian. I wasn't in fucking reverse. Not my fault.

So anyways, at first it was so weird. I heard this little yell, and a thumping noise, and I saw this kid rolling up my hood, and onto my windshield. My first thought was, "What the fuck is that?" And then it hit me. Oh god, I just hit a child on a bike! Oh god, oh god, oh god. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

I immediately slammed on my brakes, and, looking back on it, the visual was quite hysterical. You've probably all seen it in a crime show, where someone gets hit by a car, and their body immediately goes stiff and they just roll off of the car, and land with a thud in front of it. That's exactly what happened. It was like this kid was immediately paralyzed in an awkward stiff-bodied pose. And then he hits the ground and immediately goes back to being a limber human being.

So, I stop the car, put it on park, and immediately began flipping off the person behind me for having the fucking nerve to honk at me. I just hit a fucking pedestrian, bitch! Calm your shit. I walked around the front of my car, not quite accepting yet what had just happened. I knew it was real, but I just refused to believe it for a minute.

Me: "Are you ok? Oh my god, I'm so sorry!"

Punk Kid: "Ya I'm fine."

Me: "We need to call the cops and report this."

Punk Kid: "No, my parents can't know! This is my brothers bike."

At this point, the reality of the situation hit me full force. I looked at the mangled bike, wedged underneath my car, and I lost it. I have never been this hysterical in my life. I was blinded by tears, choked by sobs, and my body was convulsing uncontrollably. Somehow, I managed to continue conversing with Punk Kid.

Me: "We have to report this. My insurance will buy you a new bike."

Punk Kid: *Look of horror and the realization that he didn't have a choice, I was calling the cops.*

I dialed 911, and continued flipping off the never-ending line of cars that continued to honk at my unoccupied vehicle, in hopes that it would move itself out of their way. After I managed to tell the dispatcher my location through my sobs, the cops and ambulance arrived. I was even more hysterical at this point, because I had fully realized what had happened.

So, I'm sitting on the grass, filling out the paperwork, which was completely illegible due to the fact that my body was still convulsing, causing me to simply scribble instead of write actual English, when the son of one of the witnesses walks over to me. He was a little curly haired 2-year-old, and he was probably the most adorable person on this planet. He sat right next to me, reached over and grabbed my hand, and simply said, "Hi." The cute-ness of this moment sent me back into full-on hysterics.

At this point, and to my horror, the paramedics walked over to me, and informed me that they were more concerned with me than they were with Punk Kid, due to the fact that I was going into shock. How fucking embarrassing. I informed them that I was just fine, in between sobs and weird choking noises, accompanied by uncontrollable... noises. I don't know what to call them, but they were moaning/crying/weird-ass-fucking noises, that I have never quite been able to imitate.

The cops moved my car, and, deeming the Punk Kid at fault for the accident, slapped me with a $90 ticket and a warning not to run over anyone again. Punk Kid was fine, with the exception of major road rash, and a cool story to tell all of his friends. That is, if he even had any. He was a little punk, and I hold resentment for him in my heart to this day.

And that is the story of the time I hit a pedestrian.

Ask Me Anything

Ok. So today I posted on my lovely Facebook that I wanted to do a 'questions' blog. This may or may not have been a big fucking mistake, due to the fact that I have weird-ass fucking friends. However, as promised, I will be answering your questions, and they will be answered in the order they were asked. We take turns, here! Here we go, bitches!

Question: (Asker requested to remain anonymous) "Why do you have a boyfriend? You're amazing and every girl that gets with me is a bitch! Why couldn't i have gone after you when i hand the chance...."

Answer: First off, I just need you all to know that it was extremely awkward reading this question. But, I had to answer so here it goes- All of the things you said about me are true. That's why I have a boyfriend. And also, because I found someone who I love, and who I wouldn't give up for the world. Sorry, buddy! Also, you didn't go after me when you had a chance because you're a fucking idiot. Stop hanging out with bitches, bro.

Question: (Asked by Lindsey) "If a taco and a grilled cheese were boxing against each other, who would win and why? I would like you also to describe all three rounds in detail so we can all get a mental picture going in our brains of a taco and a grilled cheese boxing."

Answer: What the fuck? Ok. Well first off, obviously a grilled cheese would win. The minute he hits the taco, all of his insides are going to fall out of his butt. Tacos don't know how to keep their shit together! Also, there will only be one round, due to the fact that after the first round, the insides of the taco will be smeared around in the ring, and the taco will be dead and unable to continue the fight. See above.

Note: Do not judge me on this picture of a taco and a grilled cheese fighting. The only resource I had was the paint program which, as we all know, is difficult to use sometimes.

Question: (Asked by Marques) "How many times do you and Andrew get it on per week?!?

Answer: Ok, ya little pervert! This one is a hard question to answer, due to the fact that this number varies greatly, especially considering the face that we just moved in together, and are no longer living 35 minutes away from each other. However, I can tell you that we are both very satisfied in that area. *wink wink*

Question: (Asked by Alejandro) "Are you gay?" "Are you black?"

Answer: No to both of these. And you knew the answer to both of these, fucker.

Question: (Again, asked by Alejandro) "Do you prefer getting clubbed in the face or a pearl necklace?"

Answer: Well, I actually have an allergic reaction whenever I wear any kind of necklace, so I'm gonna go with a club to the face.

Question: (Asked by Tammy) "Would you rather swallow a pregnant gold fish or 100 fish eyes. Give me your reason behind your answer."

Answer: Oh dear lord, kill me now. This is a hard one. If I throw up, do I have to continue trying to eat whatever I choose? Or can I quit? I absolutely hate this question. But I'm gonna have to go with the fish eyes, simply because they are small and can be swallowed easily. Fuck my life.

Alright. There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. If you want me to do another questions post, please feel free to post any questions in the comments, or post on my facebook (if you're my facebook friend)!

Men's Rights and Feminist Bitches

Alrighty. As Janna requested, today I am going to write about the Men's Rights Movement. However, I feel like this topic goes hand-in-hand with the feminist point of view, so you get to hear my opinion on both.

Here we go. All of it is a bunch of fucking bull shit.

Now, this is how I see it. Members of both of these groups are fighting for 'equal rights' and they are all 'fighting against discrimination based on gender.' Everyone in these groups feels like they've been made the victim of a war based on gender. Well guess what? You're wrong.

Now, let me tell you why I do not support either of these groups.

First off, I had this roommate, and she was hell bent on the fact that women were discriminated against, and that they didn't get equal opportunity, and women felt 'victimized' and 'scared' to apply for a higher position, because they were not men. Are you fucking joking? No. You are using feminism as a fucking excuse for why you don't have a better job, and why no one wants to fuck you. If you want the fucking job, apply for the mother fucking job! Don't sit there and say 'I'll be discriminated because I'm a women.' That's fucking bull shit, and you need to shut the fuck up.

Secondly, ladies of feminist groups, if you want to be treated equal, then stop being suck fucking bitches about it. Ok? You want equal pay, and equal rights, but yet you also stick by the rule that the man should always open the door for the lady, and pay for the meal. NO. If you want to be equal to men, then you want to be equal in ALL areas. Got it? Fuck.

Now men. Grow some mother fucking balls. You have not been suppressed by feminist points of views, and you aren't being discriminated against. You're either being a fucking pussy who's too scared to stand up for himself, or trying to find an excuse for your behavior. Yes, women lie about being raped, and they lie about domestic violence. But those women are bitches, and you just need to stop associating with them. And for those of you who have fallen victim to these crimes, I am truly sorry. But you don't need to join some bull shit group that no one cares about.

And to both groups? If you want equal rights, then why the fuck aren't you fighting for equal rights for EVERYONE? It is so fucking hypocritical to say 'I want equal rights, but only for women.' What the fuck? No. Shut your mother fucking mouth, stop being a little bitch, put down your picket signs and calm the fuck down! If you want equal rights, then stop fighting for one side or the other, and start fighting for people in general. This game of tug-of-war has gone on long enough, and if everyone would realize that it is their choice where they get in life, than things would be fine. So stop blaming others for your failure, and live up to your choices

The End.

Being 'Completed' By Someone Else

So, first off, I would like to apologize to Janna. She gave me a suggestion about what I should blog about, and I am not blogging about it. Well, not today anyways. It will come later this week! Just be patient. Also, to all of my readers, I am so sorry that I have not blogged for such an extended period of time. It has been a weekend of mourning. Dylan Jensen passed away on Friday, March 1st. We are truly going to miss you, Dylan.

Now, onto my blog of today. I cannot tell you how many times I have heard someone talking about their significant other, and they say, "he/she completes me," or heard someone say, "find someone that completes you." And I need to tell you.. This drives me bat-shit-fucking insane. Because it is the worst insult you can give to your own fucking self.

First off, you should not have to rely on someone else to make you feel complete. That is not the purpose of a fucking relationship! And if you don't feel complete, then you aren't ready to be in a committed relationship.

The first piece of advice I give to all of my friends when they say, "I just need to find someone" is this: Until you are happy with yourself and your life, the way that YOU have made it, you should not start looking for someone else to be a part of it. And if you are feeling lonely, or sad, or disappointed with your life, finding someone is not going to help with that, it is only going to hinder you. You should feel happy with yourself, and independent. You should be able to support yourself, physically and emotionally, and be truly happy before you find someone. It is so unhealthy to be in a relationship, simply because you want to feel 'complete.'

Now, maybe I am a hypocrite for writing this. I know that there were a few years where I was constantly dating someone. Unfortunately, that's the reason that I learned this lesson. After my last relationship ended, I realized how completely helpless I was. I had no idea who I was, or what I wanted, because I had been so focused on 'us' and how 'we' would live our life together. And it took me a long time to realize that until I had goals for myself, and was in a place where I was truly happy, I would not be ready to settle down with someone. And I am so glad that I realized this.

It is so easy to lost sight of yourself, or your goals, simply because you are being selfless in trying to care for someone else, or make someone else happy. And this is fucking ridiculous. I wish that we could all realize that the easiest way to make the people around us happy, is to make ourselves happy!

So, for those of you who are single, and just want to be 'completed,' I want you to shut the fuck up and stop the attitude that you have. Take a look at yourself, and your own fucking life, and think about how satisfied with where you are. Work on yourself, and make yourself happy, and that is when you can move on to the next step, and find someone to compliment your completeness.

It Started With Coffee Creamer...

Holy. Fucking Shit. I am so thoroughly pissed that I cannot think straight. I literally cannot comprehend what is happening at my work, and the immature fucker that I work with. I am beyong baffled at how adults can have such behavior as this person does. And the best part? I don't even know who it is.

So it all started with my coffee creamer. At my work, we have coffee grounds catered in by a coffee company. HP provides the sugar and creamer, and unfortunately, the creamer is the nasty powder shit. So, I brought my own creamer to work so that I could enjoy some coffee at work. I started noticing that I was going through it extremely fast. What the fuck? I did not go through 1/4 of my coffee creamer in one day. So, I started writing my name on it. And still, the fucker continued to use it. Now, I started putting a Ziploc bag over the top, and that fixed the issue. Awesome. No more food thief! Or so I thought...

As Christmas time rolled around, everyone came back to work after the holidays with tons of candy and food that they had received, me included. I happened to get some fucking delicious chocolate covered orange sticks, pretty much the best candy ever. So, I slowly munched on them at my cubicle, and eventually could eat no more. There was half of a box left when I set them down. One week later, I opened them to grab one, and guess what I found? THERE WERE ONLY 5 FUCKING ORANGE STICKS LEFT! That mother fucker took them OFF OF MY DESK!! Are you fucking joking? At this point, I'm starting to get pissed. Things were getting out of control. So I put a note on my desk that said, 'Stop eating my food! I'm a poor white girl!' The thievery stopped for 2 months.

And then today, I saw that they had struck again. A few weeks ago, I went to the grocery store and bought some things to eat lunch at work. One of the items was salad dressing. I carefully wrote my name on it, knowing that it would have to be stored in the break room fridge. I haven't touched it since. Today, I opened the fridge, and that's when I saw it. That fucker had taken the fucking wrapper off a MY new salad dressing, and used a fucking third of the bottle! Which is CLEARLY marked with my fucking name!! Are you fucking kidding me? Oh my god. I almost lost it.

Exactly how I feel right now. Fuck.

Now. This is what I don't fucking understand. I make less than anyone else in my office. They can afford to buy their own fucking salad dressing! And also, who the fuck takes someone elses food without fucking asking, or even telling them that they're going to use some?! Seriously, that is so fucking rude and inconsiderate, and I cannot even comprehend the thought process they have while taking my fucking food. And the best part? I am the ONLY ONE in the ENTIRE FUCKING OFFICE that has been a victim of this! THEY ARE TARGETING ME! And whoever this fucking bitch is, I will find you, and I will shank you.

Having Sex

Well everyone, it has taken me a while to write this one, and even longer to post it, for fear of being judged or called a slut. But you know what? I'm not a fucking slut, and actually the farthest thing from a slut, so if you wanna say that, you can shut your trashy little mouth and move along. Heaven forbid I have pre-marital sex... Judgemental bitches. Ok. Here you go.

Sex. Everybody does it at some point in their life. Well, unless you die a virgin, and then you have my greatest sympathy. But you also should have taken the initiative and just done it. Grow some balls and get laid! Just kidding. Don't be a slut about it. But really. You no longer have my sympathy. Ok moving on.

When you are younger, or a virgin, or about to get married, you wonder, "what's it gonna be like?" And you get this image in your head of a romantic scene, with candles and roses and sexy lingerie. You think of that scene in The Notebook where his pants come right off, and afterwards she says, "that's what I've been missing??" in this happily shocked voice. Let me tell you. Your first time is going to be NOTHING like this. So you can just knock that fantasy right out of your pretty little head, and prepare yourself for the most awkward moment of your entire life.

First off, you're going to feel awkward as fuck. This person has never seen you naked. They've never seen that weird little scar or birthmark, maybe you have stretch marks, and maybe your thighs jiggle or you aren't at your 'perfect weight.' You're gonna be self conscious.

Clothes do not come off nearly as easy as they go on. You will fumble around with the fabric. You can't find their zipper, and all of a sudden a bra hook is some form of alien science that hasn't yet been discovered by human hands. "How the fuck does this work??" will go through your head multiple times. Someone will probably end up leaving their socks on.

Girls. "Where is that noise coming from? Is that my VAGINA??" I can guarantee that this thought is going to run through your head at some point during your sexual activity. If not your first time, then your second or third. It is going to happen. Do NOT be alarmed by this! It's normal, and it happens to the best of us. He's probably just going to think it's funny and laugh. Don't be alarmed by that either.

And afterwards? You aren't going to fall straight asleep. You're going to think about how nasty you are, and run to the bathroom in pursuit of a nice shower. "What is this liquid all over me? WHO'S liquid is all over me??" You're going to think about how awkward it was, and how it didn't go nearly as you expected, and then you'll hate yourself a little bit for getting your expectations so fucking high.

Don't worry. These awkward moments go away and eventually, you will no longer care if someone left their socks on. You'll realize that your partner thinks you're sexy, despite that scar from when you were nine, and that everything you hear/see/feel is completely normal. But until then, I wish you the best of luck.

Religion Is Not A Valid Reason

Oh, readers. You need to know that I am so thoroughly peeved right now. So fucking peeved! Why, you ask? Because some people are so fucking stupid! That's why. So, I saw this picture, and it needs to be discussed.

Now, this may not really seem like a big deal to most people, but there is something so incredibly wrong with this. Marriage is between you and your husband, and yes it is between God, if you are religious. But a marriage is not to fucking glorify God! Ok? And this picture brought back a memory of something else that has bothered me for a while.

The other day, me and my friends went to an old person home to do some community service and just visit with the people that lived there. They get lonely! We saw the ad to visit on KSL and thought, hey, why not? It could be fun! Holy fuck, almost everyone there asked if we were LDS. And when we said no? They were suprised that 'normal' kids came to do service. Um, religion is NOT the only reason people do service for others! And it is NOT the reason you should get married, either!

So many people go and do stuff simply for the purpose of religion, or getting into heaven. Now, I am not a religious person. But I can tell you right now that if heaven and God are real, then doing stuff simply for the purpose of going to heaven is not going to cut it! What the fuck happened to being a good person, just to be a good person? What happened to thou shalt not judge, and thou shall not lie? Because going out for service when you don't want to just for the good of it, is living a motherfucking lie! Ok? You can fight this and yell at me and say I don't know what I'm talking about, but it's true. I was once told "good luck when you meet Jesus" because I made the statement that I don't judge people for being gay. Honey, if I'm going to hell, I hope they put me on the opposite side of you, because I do not want to sit next to your bitchy judgemental self for all eternity.

If you want to be a good person, then live an honest life. Be a good person to be a fucking good person! Do service to make others feel good, and get married because you love someone, not because you want to get into heaven.

Adios, Bitchachos!

This past year has royally fucked me over. And I just need to say hallelujah! In one week and two days, the lease that almost killed me will be over! And I am so fucking excited I can't stand it! Can I get an amen, brothers and sisters?!

So, I know a question that I have been asked a lot is, "If you couldn't afford the lease, then why did you sign it?" Well, first off, I'm not fucking stupid. I wouldn't have signed it.. If I had really had a choice in the matter. I moved into my apartment with my ex, who decided to leave and royally fucked me over when he did, leaving me with a costly apartment. I knew that I was fucked. And I still had almost the entire year of the lease left to stick out by myself. Fuck. And if I wanted to break my lease? It would've cost me three thousand fucking dollars. I'm poor white girl and I cannot afford that shit. So, I had to stay.

Now, I would like to tell you all of the things I hated about this apartment, and the management. First off, they fine and fee you for fucking everything. Literally. I had to pay for the parking stall that went with my apartment, even if I didn't want to park there. $25. Fuck. Oh, I have a dog? $300 deposit and an extra $35 a month. $175 if you pay your rent late. Fuck my life. This is what I've had to deal with for an entire fucking year. Oh, and that pet deposit? It was supposed to be refunded to me, but unfortunately, they're using it all the clean the mother fucking carpets. It does not cost that much to clean the mother fucking carpets! Fuck you guys. If I had problems with my neighbors, it was my fault for moving there. Which, for the most part my neighbors were nice, aside from the fact that I could hear them having sex. They were so fucking loud! I mean, I don't care how good it is, stop your screaming, bitch. You have neighbors.

However, aside from all the fees and late night sounds of sex sessions, I made it the entire year. There were times when it got tough. I almost sold Tito a few times to get the money I needed for rent, and thank god for all the times my parents came to my rescue with boxes of food and tampons. Thank you guys, for everything you did to keep me afloat.

I am so happy to be done with this fucking lease, and I am so excited to be in a better place in my life financially. Thanks to everyone who has helped me through! You guys are fucking awesome. And goodbye, Riverbend. You will not be missed.

Calm Your Shit

Alrighty, ladies and gentlemen! I have such an awesome story for you (as requested be written about by my facebook friends and blog readers that witnessed this). First off, I would like to say 'fuck you' to the bitches who get offended by stupid shit. Seriously. For those of you that know me personally, you know that I am a nice person. I am nice to people and I don't cause drama (for the most part.. Everyone has their moments) and I really get along with pretty much anyone. You also know that I have some strong beliefs and points of view, and I am not scared to share those with everyone! Now, I decided to post something on Facebook this week that I felt was not offensive at all. I was simply stating that I am at a point in my life that I am happy with, even though I am not doing what most people my age are. This is what it was:

As you can see, a lot of people agreed with me. Because it's fucking true! Now, I have a lot of friends that are married and having children that are my age. That's ok! I'm happy for them and the lives that they are living. I just don't feel like I'm ready for that quite yet! Everyone else can do whatever the fuck they want. I don't fucking care! But apparently, this status seemed to offend some people. One person in particular. This was her response:

Uh, what? Ok. First off, I really don't think my status sounded judgemental. First off, not once did I say anything to the affect that I thought everyone else was stupid or dumb for getting married so young. I simply stated that I'm one of few not married, and that I'm ok and happy about that! Bitches need to calm their shit.

Now, it wouldn't be so bad if it was anyone else. I like Clair. We got along great in high school, I went to her wedding, which was beautiful, and she is generally a nice person. But she is contantly posting negative things on Facebook about her life and her daughter. And then she takes personal offense to my status. Honey, I understand if you are unhappy with your life, but don't fucking take it out on me! She should know that I'm happy for her! I've told her multiple times. But, whatever.

So, I make the comment that I'm not judging her, and I had quite a few friends comment about how they knew I was in no way judging anyone. That's not my thing. Live and let live. Right? So she doesn't respond, and I'm thinking, holy shit. This girl is fucking pissed! So I decide to send her a message and say hey, I'm sorry that I offended you because that's not what I intended. Guess what? She deleted me! Ha! Oh god. Really? I understand that I offended you, and I'm sorry, but this is fucking ridiculous. Why are you taking such offense to this? It was not a big deal! You need to calm your shit, and understand that the status wasn't fucking about you! But whatever. If you want to live a life where you're unhappy and take offense to everything, that's fine with me. But don't fucking take it out on me. Calm your shit, and grow the fuck up.

However, I would like to apologize to anyone else that was offended. I am in no way apologizing for what I said, but I am apologizing to those of you who took it the wrong way. As I said before, that was not the purpose! However, if you know me well enough that we're Facebook friends, then you should know that I didn't mean to offend anyone. So, fuck you.

The end.

Rainbow Poop

Oh readers. I love you so much. You guys are awesome. Just so you know. Ok. My dog is fucking retarded. Now, first off let me tell you that I feed him regularly. He has fat rolls on his shoulder blades. And yet he acts like I starve him and never feed him. He has a problem.

Last night, Andrew and I went to dinner, and had an amazing night. We came home, and for the second time this week, Tito had eaten crayons. Crayons! What the fuck? Why in the fuck would you eat crayons? They are waxy and covered in paper, and of all the things you could eat, you chose crayons. Ok. Prepare yourself for the waxy rainbow poops that you're gonna have to squeeze out your ass, you little fucker.

Now, it's not like I had these crayons laying out on my floor for him to just play with as he pleased. I don't even know where he found them, considering I had to throw my last box of crayons away, because he fucking ate all of them. He just finds crayons and eats them, leaving me with paper remnants and half eaten Crayola's to clean up.

Now, as if this wasn't bad enough, I walked out of my room this morning to find him chewing the handle of my hammer. What the fuck?? First off, how did he even lift that to get it into the living room?? That thing is heavier than he is! Secondly, why the fuck would he choose to chew on that, instead of one of the billion toys that were scattered all over the living room? You know that shit does not taste good!

So, I have concluded that my dog does, in fact, have downs syndrome. The end.