There's No Reason To Feel Guilty

Ok so what I really want to talk about today comes from something that I heard someone talking about yesterday, and it had to do with religious restrictions. There are so many things that religion controls, and tells you what you can and cannot do, that can make a person feel guilty. I really want to talk about these. Now, in my eyes, none of the things that I am about to talk about are sins. They are things that people do because they want to do them, and I don't feel like someone should have to feel guilty about it. End of story. Sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but it's my opinion. 

1. Tattoos. They are not a sin. Want to get one? Go fucking get one! It's ok! You aren't going to hell for it, and it's your fucking body! Have fun! And make sure to post the pictures on Facebook so I can see how awesome it is.
2. Masturbation. Ya, I said it. Who the fuck cares? Who does this affect? No one except yourself. Go at it, bro. Have fun, and clean up after yourself.
3. Pre-marital sex/sexual relationships. It happens. An incompatible sexual relationships is one of the main reasons for divorce. So why not find out before you get married? It's not a big deal. You shouldn't have to feel ashamed of that. If you really love someone, then I do not see a problem with having a sexual relationship with them. Just don't be fucking slutty about it, and you're fine. Even if you're slutty, that's your decision. But use a fucking condom.
4. Drinking. It's ok to have a drink, and have fun with your friends. Don't be an alcoholic or become reliant on it, and try to keep it under control. Want to have a beer at the super bowl party? Go ahead! You won't go to hell for it. It's ok.
5. My fucking language. Fuck you and your fucking standards on my fucking language. I say what I fucking want. End of story.
6. You want to be religious? Go ahead! That's ok with me!

Now, I know that this may or may not cause some debate, but everyone is entitled to their own opinion and lifestyle. This is how I choose to live, guilt free. Even if you don't choose that, that's awesome! I just don't feel like you should feel guilty should you choose to do these things. It's ok. Whatever your religion, or standards, I respect that. What I don't respect is the guilt people thrust upon others for not making the same life decisions as them. Get over it, and move on. Don't make someone feel guilty for not living the same life as you do. I love you all, whether you're standards are wearing a turtle neck every day to prevent any sign or cleavage, or whether you live in a fucking nudist colony. Do what you feel is right for YOU.

Kelly Makes Good Chicken

This morning, I received an e-mail from one of my teachers from high school, Mrs. Francis. Let me tell you, this e-mail made my entire morning. She was one of the teachers who was my rock my senior year. I was not living at home, I was working two jobs, and I was still trying to keep up with my school work so that I would be able to graduate. I ended up dropping all of my extra curricular classes so that I would be able to work two jobs. It was a hard semester, but I made it through. I had Mrs. Francis. She encouraged me to keep going and stay strong. I also had Ricci. She was my teacher, and was also housing me until I could find my own place. This blog is dedicated to them, and the other teachers that have impacted my life.

I'll start with the first teacher who impacted me. Mrs. Taylor taught me in fifth grade. Now, at first she was an ordinary teacher. One day, she pulled me, along with seven other students, into the hall. She told us that we were advanced. She gave us a project to do. We researched Lewis and Clark for months. We wrote reports, we made presentations. We had a clay boat, and a board stuffed with information. We did this during class. And when we finished? We presented everything we had done to the University of Utah. Holy shit. It was amazing. I cannot tell you how excited I was. This was the first time I had ever realized how smart I was. She inspired me to keep learning, to continue and do the best I could and to strive to go above and beyond. Not only that, but she helped me through a lot of hard stuff that year. I was still new to Utah, and had just moved from my moms house to my dads. There were a lot of struggles, and she helped me through those. She acted as my mentor, my guide, and she was a kick ass teacher. She also happens to be the aunt of my boyfriend. Fuck yeah! I love you, Mrs. Taylor!

The second would be Ricci. I was her assistant all three years of high school. We became very good friends. I watched her kids in the daycare, and she was like another mom to me. When I had no where to go and couldn't live at home, she was there for me. I called her up and told her I had no where to go, and her response was, "We just refinished the basement, I hope you like babies." She had just had twins, and also had a 1 year old daughter. I cannot thank her enough for the support she showed me. And the fact that she let me pay rent in Krispy Kreme doughnuts.

Third, Mrs. Francis. As I said in the beginning, she was my rock. She encouraged me in my toughest times, she gave me advice whenever I needed it, no matter what the situation. She was the first and only teacher to give me a diciplinary U. She kept me in line, and was such a good friend to me. I could go to her for anything I needed, and she was there. Without her support, I don't think I would have made it through.

Fourth would be Kelly. She wasn't my teacher. She was my coworker. Last year, my ex kicked me out with no where to go. Kelly and I had some coffee and I told her what had happened. I didn't know what I was going to do, or where I was going to go. She offered to let me put some stuff in her garage. What a blessing that was. It doesn't seem like much, but to me it was the world. When I went to her house, she gave me even better news. I could stay with her. Her and her husband housed me for two weeks. I could not be more grateful. They LITERALLY saved my life. I would have been living in my car, and instead I was living with two amazing people and their cuddly dogs. Kelly made some really really good chicken. Just saying. She gave me advice on my job, and my friends and family. It was such a rough time all around, and she helped me through.

To you all, I just want to say thank you. I may not have shown as much gratitude as I should have, but you guys have been amazing to me. You have helped me through the hardest times, and it is because of you guys that I have made it to where I am today. I love you guys!

You're Gonna Get Hit By A Train

For as long as I can remember, my dad has worked driving a truck for a living. Well, until a couple months ago when he got moved into the office. But that's irrelevant. Anyways, he drove a diesel, delivering fuel to various gas stations. He's a truck driver. Now, not just anyone can drive a truck for a living. You have to know all the rules of the road, some common curteousy, and, of course, how to drive in all conditions. Lucky for me, when I turned 16, I was taught how to drive by none other than my dad, a guy who drove for a living and had competed in driving competitions during my childhood. He knew it all. Something he was always adamant about was driving in the snow.

Obviously, this is helpful. I live in fucking Utah, with fucking snow in the middle of fucking May. I fucking hate the snow. Fuck. However, one thing I can say is that, even though I'm a teenager, I know how to drive in it. Unfortunately, this cannot be said for everyone. Now, I know everyone goes off about how no one knows how to drive in the snow, but seriously, they have legitimate reason to complain about that. It's fucking ridiculous.

First off, like I said before, we live in FUCKING UTAH. Honestly. You would think people would be used to the snow, and driving in it. The snow comes every fucking year, people!!! Get used to it! But, no. They refuse. And the minute the first snowflake falls from the sky, all hell breaks loose. People panic. They start slamming on their brakes and changing lanes and causing a fucking mess. So, let me tell you some things to help you drive in the fucking snow. Learn it and live it, folks.

1. Be confident. If you are scared and tense, you are going to crash. You have to know that you know what you're doing. Don't panic, and don't freak the fuck out if you slide a little bit. It's ok. You know what to do, if you'd just stop panicking.
2. When you slide, I swear to god if you slam on your breaks, I will personally come and shank you. Do not slam on your breaks. It will do you no good. You obviously don't have any fucking traction! Calm down, slowly pump your breaks until you stop, and then slowly continue on your way. Unless you slid into someone or something. Then you should probably call your insurance. Fucktard.
3. Do NOT drive 30 miles under the speed limit because there is half an inch of snow on the road! People like you make people like me want to kill you. It's ok to drive the speed limit! Now, if there's a blizzard and you can't see 5 feet in front of you, then it's ok to be cautious. If it's icy, be careful. But if there is a tiny layer of snow on the ground, you need to calm the fuck down, and drive normal. Otherwise, you're going to get shanked.
4. If it's a little slick, or if you're unsure if the roads are slick, be cautious when slowing down. Otherwise, you're gonna slow down at the last second, slide through the red light and end up as one of those dumb asses who got hit by the train.

There are so many more things I could say about this, considering I have the worst road rage! Seriously. People are fucking stupid when they're driving. But, I will stop here. Learn from these little tips I gave you. Also, learn how to fucking drive.

Why I Blog and We Do What We Want

Two blogs in one, because I just love you so fucking much.

So, I have had a few people ask me why I blog. They say, "you aren't married, and you don't have kids, so why would you blog?" First off, these people obviously have never looked at my blog. If they had, they would know that there are a plethora of things to write about, without writing about kids or my husband. I blog because I like to write. What I write about is established at the same moment that I start writing it. There are so many things to write about, and so many things that fucking piss me off that I feel I should share with the world. So, fuck you to the people who think that kids and husbands are the only thing to blog about. You, my dear friend, are fucking retarded. 

Next subject, what I actually came to write about, but felt that I should explain why I blog first, and delayed writing this one. That sentence sounds grammatically incorrect. Fuck it. Anyways, this weekend Andrew and I went to a party. Now, I am not trying to brag, but Andrew and I are a pretty fucking awesome couple. Everyone is always telling us how great we are, blah blah blah, ya I know. We're perfect. What gets me is the things people ask us, and there are a specific two that I am talking about.

1. "Why don't you live together?" Ok, first off, that's none of your fucking business. We will move in with each other when we feel that we are both ready for that. That's a big step in a relationship, and a lot of financial responsibility. It really peeves me with people ask this. And it's not just the questions they ask about this either. Last weekend at this party that I mentioned above, someone made the comment to Andrew that he was still living on his own, while I had to find a roommate on KSL to pay the rent. And? That's how we wanted to do it. That doesn't make Andrew a bad boyfriend. I don't blame him! If I could live with my parents, I would. It's the smart thing to do. So shut the fuck up and stop judging him. Honestly, that pissed me the fuck off. So, stop fucking asking. We do what we want.
2. "When are you gonna get married/tie the knot/get hitched?" Uh, what? You do realize that I'm 19 years old, and Andrew is 21, right? We are still babies! I'm not ready to get married! I still have to go to college! Besides, I would like to be old enough to get into the bar before I get married.

So, for those of you who keep asking us these questions, just shut the fuck up. Not only are you annoying the shit out of me, and asking questions that are none of your business, but you are adding so much pressure to our relationship. Asking questions like that makes me feel like we aren't moving fast enough/doing what's expected. So shut the fuck up and mind your own business. We will move at our own pace, AS A COUPLE. Not as a group. And you are not invited to give us your opinions on how we should progress as a couple.

Autocorrect, My Worst Enemy

Fuck autocorrect. Seriously. I become a victim of autocorrect at least once every week, if not every day, and right now I am going to tell you about the worst autocorrect experience of my entire life. Fuck.

So, I was just at home, minding my own business, when I suddenly became super hungry. Obviously, I went to the kitchen to find something to eat. I had some bread, so I put some butter and garlic on it and shoved in in the oven. Mmmm, toasty garlic bread.

Now, at this time, I was texting my friend Ken. Thank God he has a good sense of humor. Seriously. He asks me what I was up to. Now, what I typed and what my phone assumed I wanted to say were different. Apparently, my phone was feeling a little horny. Unfortunately, I didn't catch the error before sending it. This is the conversation:

Ken: Hey, what're you up to?

Me: Oh, just masturbating.

Uh.... Shit. My phone turned "making bread" into masturbating. What the fuck, phone??? I am not masturbating! What a dirty little mind you have! Seriously, you are like a 12 year old boy! Grow up, and calm your hormones!

So I text him that I swear I'm making bread, not masturbating. He's laughing his ass off and OBVIOUSLY has to show all of his coworkers the dirty little text he just got from my phone, NOT from me. I still have no idea if he believes I really was just getting a snack to settle my ravenous stomach, and not pleasuring myself and sharing it with him.

Now, as if this wasn't bad enough, this epidemic caused me to burn the bread I was making. Fuck you autocorrect for ruining my life, and my snack.

Here's a picture of someone else's autocorrect that had me laughing my ass off. Homosexual Grandma! Enjoy!

Shit Me And My Boyfriend Say

So, for those of you who know me in person, you know I can be kind of retarded. No, not kind of. I'm fucking retarded sometimes. Usually this earns me the title of "Blonde".  I can tell you, there is no time when I am more blonde than when I'm with Andrew. Together, him and I have said some pretty stupid-and fucking hilarious-things. Today, I'm going to share some with you.

This conversation happened yesterday:

Me: "My favorite Gatorades are orange and blue."

Andrew: "Uh... Orange? You might as well chop your boob off, because drinking orange Gatorade and chopping your boob off are practically the same thing.

Another:

Andrew and I were walking through Graywhale, and something fell out of my pocket. I hurried to grab it and catch it before it fell to the ground and Andrew made the comment:

"Wouldn't it be funny if a hamster fell out of your pocket?"

What?? Who the fuck thinks about a hamster falling out of your pocket? What a 'tard.

This one was strictly me, before I knew how the North East South West directions worked. Carol (my boss) was talking about how she was disoriented in California, because there were no mountains there to tell her which way was East. I made the comment:

"Wait... It doesn't matter which way the mountains/ocean are in reference to you... West is always to the left."

I have gone to a new level of stupid. Seriously. Carol was laughing so hard that she was crying. How embarrassing.

Me to Andrew:

"What's a skeet?"

Yes, I asked this. Yes, he laughed really hard. 'Ah, skeet skeet mother fuckers..'

When I was younger, I said this to my parents after seeing a commercial on TV:

"What is ED (erectile dysfunction)?"

When my parents started laughing, I said:

"Oh, well. I guess I'd know if I had it."

Oh, the innocence of a child...

When I learned what a cock was, as in penis, it happened in public. My family was sitting at a Chinese restaurant, reading those trashy little paper place mats with your Chinese zodiac. Mine happens to be the cock. I looked up at my parents and loudly proclaimed:

"I'm a cock!"

My parents both turned red, and told me from now on, to use the word rooster. When we were in the car, they gave the explanation why.

Yesterday at Wal-Mart, Andrew pronounced the word thoroughly like "Thor"oughly. You know, like Thor, in the movies.

There have been a plethora of incidents like this, way too many to put on this blog. As I said before, I can be fucking retarded.

Life At The Pool

When I was fifteen, I got my first job working as a lifeguard at our local swimming pool. I absolutely loved this job. It was exciting, it was fun, and the people I worked with were awesome as fuck. Now, for some reason, people get it into their little heads that when they are underwater, we can't see them. WRONG. When you are swimming, the lifeguards can see EVERYTHING you do. Everything. Here is a list of all the things you see when you work at a swimming pool.

WARNING: You are never going to want to go swimming again.

1. Sex. Yes, people fuck each other in the swimming pool. I can name at least 3 times when  I saw this happen. Now, most of my coworkers were so embarrassed by this that they would look the other way and let the people continue fucking. Me? HA! You wish! I would blow my whistle, point them out, and tell them to keep it PG. At this point, everyone would be staring at them. Most of the time, the nasty mother fuckers would leave shortly after being caught. Ya, that's right. Go fuck each other in a more appropriate place. Thanks.
2. Hand Jobs. Holy shit, this happened at least once a week in the summer. Again, I was the one to tell the nasty mother fuckers to calm the fuck down.
3. Stupid ass people. I once had some full grown man try to squeeze into his baby's inner tube, which I had the pleasure of cutting him out of. What the fuck made you think you would fit into that? You stupid fuck.
4. There were a variety of injuries, from minor scrapes, to children getting their toes demolished in the revolving doors. I saw seizures, concussions, stomach flu, burns, spinal injuries, and, of course, some pretty bad ass sunburns.
5. Holy shit, it's shit. I cannot tell you how many times I had to clean someone's shit out of the pool. The one I remember most was when some kid shit himself so bad, while the wave machine was on... Shit was EVERYWHERE. Literally. Me and my coworker got the pleasure of taking nets and walking back and forth across the pool, scooping out the little poop chunks, and then pouring chlorine into the pool and getting chemical burns on our legs. What an awesome day. FUCK YOU CHILD WHO DID THAT TO ME!!!
6. When I first started at the pool, the other lifeguards warned me of the drowning face. They said I would have nightmares for weeks. I thought they were kidding. Nope. Now, I know that nothing I say will be able to describe the horror of seeing the look on a child's face when they're drowning, but I'm going to try. Children are so innocent. When they start drowning, the first thing they do is look at you. They gaze at you through the water, their eyes are wide, just staring. They don't look scared. They look empty. There is no emotion. Just a wide-eyed child, staring you down, with the most innocent, horrifying look. I still have nightmares about it. After a moment of this, the panicked look strikes their face, and they start flailing around like a fish out of water... Except they are a person in the water. Weird? Yes.

I loved this job. In the summer, I made as many as 4 rescues a day. I taught swimming lessons, and kicked nasty ass mother fuckers out of the pool. I cut people out of tubes, helped the kids with the bloody toes, and got a bad-ass tan. I worked there for almost 4 years, and I can honestly say that was the best job I've ever had. Although, the job I have now is pretty fucking awesome. They are tied.



Me in my lifeguarding uniform. At Wal-Mart, with Buzz Lightyear. 'Cause I'm a badass.



'Broken Family' My Ass

So, the last few posts have been based on something funny or just whatever the fuck I wanted, so I feel like I should post about something that means a lot to me. After the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary, I was reading some comments on the news articles. One of the people commented, "broken families ruin children." This infuriated me. How dare she talk about something that she obviously does NOT understand! Just because two people get divorced does not mean that they are a broken family.

Now, most of you know my parents are divorced. It happened sometime when I was tiny, and I have no memories of my parents being married. That's ok with me. Having divorced parents has taught me a lot about love and marriage, believe it or not. I'm not fucked up because my parents are divorced. In fact, them divorcing aided me in growing up to be a stronger person, with better ideas on marriage and love than I would have had, had they stayed together.

Now, when my parents got married, they loved each other. This is obvious. Why the fuck would they get married if they weren't in love? However, as time went by, this changed. I will not go into details, I don't feel like it's my right to share the details of my parents' old marriage, but from what I understand, things went downhill very fast. It was not meant to be.

I can tell your right now that if my parents had stayed together, my life would be very, very different. It would also be very bad. My parents were not good for each other. They had two beautiful daughters together, the one good thing from their marriage. But just because they had children did not mean that they were meant to be. As I said before, they were divorced before I had retained any memories of their marriage.

My dad married again to my mom (step-mom, but she is my mom, and has earned that title). I have no memories before he married her. She has been my mom for as long as I can remember.

Because my parents divorced, I learned quite a few things. Just because you have a family, does not mean you should stay together. I would rather have the life that I have, than have a life with parents who were constantly fighting and hated each other. For me, that is the worst environment to raise a child in. Parents set an example for their children. I am glad I was taught to be happy. The term 'broken family' should not be used to describe divorce, it should be used to describe married, miserable couples. Just because you are married, does not make you a family.

For those of you who think that divorce is a sin, you are wrong. You are also an ignorant-as-fuck asshole. People look at divorced couples with shame, and say "they should have tried harder." You do not know how hard they tried, or the effort they put into their marriage, so shut the fuck up, you ignorant fuck. You were not there, you do not know the reasons they split. One of my friends once told me "We were two great people, but together, we were not a great couple. That's why we divorced." She married young, but was still wiser on love and marriage than a lot of older people that I know. Just because YOU think they should try harder, doesn't mean they didn't try, or that if they had 'done things differently,' then things would have worked. If you are not happy, then there is something wrong.

I am not saying that you should not try to make a marriage work, or that divorce is always the solution if a marriage has problems. EVERY MARRIAGE HAS ITS OWN PROBLEMS! Every couple should try to work these out, and for the most part, I believe that if you love each other, you can overcome any problems that come your way. However, there are exceptions. Some things we are not capable of working through, and some couples just aren't meant to be. It happens.

My parents were not meant to be. I was not raised with a broken family, I was simply raised with a dad and two moms. I lived with my mom, and stayed at my dads house every other weekend. There were struggles, having divorced parents. However, I am so grateful that I was raised how I was, despite the divorce, and struggles throughout my childhood. For those of you who read "It Isn't So Bad, Afterall..." you know what I'm referring to when I say 'struggles.' I am happy that my parents were not meant to be. They got two beautiful children, and I got two moms. I also got two christmas' every year. Fuck yeah.

My Neighbors Got Laid

I love being independent. Living on my own is awesome. No curfews, no rules. It's my house, and I do what I want. The only thing I hate is living in an apartment. There are good sides to living in an apartment, like free maintenance. Other than that, it fucking sucks.

First off, it's expensive as hell. Seriously, with how much my rent is, I could be paying a mortgage for less. Maybe two. Not only do you have to pay rent, but you have rent insurance, police fees, parking fees, pet fees, mail fees, trash fees, utility fees, washer/dryer fees, everything has a fee. It's fucking ridiculous. Don't even get me started on the late fees.

Now, my apartment complex itself is really nice. The grounds are kept well maintained, the pool is always clean, but the location fucking sucks. I live in the ghetto of West Valley. You think I'm joking? I see a hobo digging through my trash at least once a week, and there was at one point a serial rapist running around my neighborhood. Ya, they never caught the guy. I get harassed when I go to the McDonald's down the street, and the people who used to live above me were drug dealers. So awesome.

The neighbors. Holy shit. My neighbors are the reason I'm writing this blog right now. Now, most of the neighbors are really nice people. We all let our dogs play together and say 'hi' as we walk past. But there are a couple that I'd rather didn't live there. First off, the lady who lived below me at one point is the nosiest lady I have ever met. She's rude as fuck, demanding, and disrespectful. She called me once and said, "Tell your boyfriend to fix my computer. I'll pay him when I can." Uh, what? No please? Lady, I don't think so. When you learn some manners and know how to use the magic word, then maybe. Probably not, because you're rude as fuck.

Now this morning. I was in the shower (I swear everything bad happens when I'm taking a shower) and I hear this banging noise from the apartment above me. What the hell? Now these people just moved in this weekend. I assumed maybe they were moving stuff around. Then I realized it was 5 o'clock in the fucking morning. Who the fuck moves shit at 5 o'clock in the fucking morning?? And then I heard it... It started off quietly, barely audible above the sound of the water... Moaning. It then turned into full blown screaming. OMG, they are having sex. Loud sex. Way to go, guys! You got laid! I was happy for them, really I was. Who doesn't wanna get laid?? Seriously, though. Quiet the fuck down. I can hear everything. If you guys are screamers, I would not recommend moving into an apartment complex. Seriously.

For those of you who have never lived in an apartment, don't fucking do it. Buy a house. Be smart and buy a fucking house. You'll have your privacy, no fees for having a puppy, or a fish, and no loud screaming neighbors getting laid at 5 o'clock in the fucking morning. Seriously. Buy a fucking house.

The End.

Jingle All The Fucking Way

Christmas is coming. Most people are so excited about this, including me. Who wouldn't be? Christmas is fucking awesome, and you get presents and shit. Seriously though, some things about Christmas fucking suck.

First off, the guys at the front of the stores from Salvation Army. Now, I now this is for charity, and that's cool. What annoys the shit out of me is that every one of these people is standing there, usually leaning against the wall, with a grumpy-ass look on their face. Cheer the fuck up! It's fucking Christmas! I know, it's fucking cold outside, and maybe your job sucks a little. But being grumpy doesn't make it any better. Maybe I should start giving these people hugs. And hot chocolate. That would cheer me the fuck up.

The fucking cold. And the snow. And anything associated with these things (aside from sledding, and playing) suck ass. I hate the snow. I really should not be living in Utah, where we have "The Greatest Snow on Earth." No. It still fucking sucks. The greatest snow would be warm snow. Now that would be fucking awesome.

I love shopping. So much. But shopping at Christmas time is a FUCKING NIGHTMARE! Seriously. People are so rude. They ram you (or your car!) with their carts, and push you, and have seven screaming children trailing behind them, imitating their every move. Fuck you. Go home so I can shop in peace.

Why the fuck is everything so damn expensive? I swear they jack up the prices by 700% at Christmas. Since when is a shirt $50?? I saw the same one a month ago for like, ten bucks. Fuck you, retail stores, and your fucking prices. I get so excited to go shopping for everyone, and I find the perfect present for all my friends and family. And then the checkout lady fucks up my day by saying how much it costs. Fuck. This year I'm just gonna buy everyone a candy bar. Maybe a balloon, too. Who doesn't love balloons?

And then there are the grumpy people. The scrooges. You know, you smile at them in public, and they grimace back. You say hi, or thank you, and again, they grimace. You say "Merry Christmas" and all you get is that fucking grimace. Well, fuck you, too, asshole! Seriously, I'm just trying to be nice, and all you can do is muster up this disgusted look on your face. If I had that look on my face all the time, I'd be grumpy as fuck, too. Cheer up.

I love Christmas. Despite all the negatives and the grumpy asses and the bitchy shoppers, it is my favorite holiday. I love when I get someone the perfect present. I get so excited to give it to them. I love the decorations and yes, I even love the grumpy people. I especially love dressing Tito like Santa Claus.

Merry fucking Christmas, everyone.

A Blog For My Dog

I love Tito. He is my baby. Seriously. I'm such a dog mom, it's pathetic. However, my dog is the biggest shit. He is the small, fluffy version of Marley. (For those of you who haven't watched Marley and Me, watch it. It's amazing. But keep tissues nearby. You'll cry.)

When I first got Tito, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. We rescued him from the pound, and he was so cute. Little did we know, he is the devil's spawn.



The mess I came home to...



The first time we left him alone, he chewed up so many things, and shit everywhere. We went and bought a baby gate to lock him in the kitchen, and quickly learned he could easily jump over it. I got home from work one day, and there was paper. Everywhere. And stickers, and ribbons, and pretzels... He had raided the living room. He had been left in the kitchen with the baby gate, and had scaled it to wreak havoc on my stuff. And then I see my puppy...  



Tito is laying on the floor, obviously miserable, and incredibly sick. I panic. Then I see it.. He ate all of the chocolate covered pretzels. Shit. So off to the vet we go. I drop him off, and they keep him there for 6 hours.. I am worried sick. Is he ok? They call me, and when I go to pick him up, the vet takes me into the office. Tito is there, obviously feeling better. He was so excited to see me! And then the vet says, "I have never seen a dog, especially one that small, throw up that much stuff." And that was when the fun of having a puppy began...

My dog shits more than any dog I have ever known. I'm not talking little poodle shits. I'm talking Labrador sized shits, three times a day. He takes a giant shit in the morning, and by the time I get home, there's more on the floor. Seriously, dog? And no, feeding him less doesn't help. I tried.

Tito is obsessed with eating paper. Toilet paper, wrapping paper, napkins, boxes, anything. What kind of dog does that?? If I were a dog and decided to eat shit I shouldn't be eating, I'd be going for the food, or something that at least has some flavor and doesn't give me paper cuts. Dumb fuck.



He chews. Everything. He has chewed paper, window sills, my computer chord (in half, twice. So, in thirds.), two lamp chords, my DVD cases, and more than one paid of underwear (because dogs are fucking disgusting). Now, he is 3 years old. He should be over the chewing phase!!!



He also loves loves loves chocolate, which, as most people know, is really bad for dogs. It will fuck them up. This is the main reason I'm writing this blog today. I was taking a nice shower this morning, in a good mood. Today was gonna be good. I got out of the shower, and there were chocolate wrappers all over my room. How did he get it?? He managed to knock over a basket that's bigger than he is onto the floor, and went crazy. Oh my god, he almost died. That mother fucker not only ate chocolate and endangered himself, but he ate the good fucking chocolate. Reese's, Hershey's Dark Chocolate, Kisses. Seriously. I wanted that. And I'm sure Andrew did, too, considering he's the one that bought it. (Fat people problems-your dog ate your chocolate.)

Now, I'm also 99% sure my dog is downs syndrome. No joke. He runs into walls, he falls off the couch, and he loves to run. He gets excited, and instead of jumping on you, he runs and runs as fast as he can for like, five minutes. What the fuck is he doing? I don't know, but it's funny as shit. Seriously. He puts on his racer stance, ears back, tail tucked, and runs. What the fuck?

Now, don't get me wrong. I adore Tito. I think he is the best dog ever. He's cute as fuck, and for the most part, he's a really good dog. Seriously though, he is such a little shit. It's like having a toddler. That sheds. And slings poop all over your fucking house.



Tug of War



If it wasn't for how adorable Tito was, I probably would've killed him. No joke. But he is just so fucking cute.. He is so fluffy. Oh my god. He snores when he's sleeping. Fucking loud snoring, too. Now that I think about it, it keeps me awake. That's not cute. That's fucking annoying. When he begs, he shows you his snaggle tooth. He loves to cuddle and he lovese to play. These things, aside from the snoring, have saved his life. When he shits, and eats my chocolate, he doesn't get in trouble. How do you yell at something that's so fucking adorable?



When he eats his food, he doesn't eat straight out the bowl. He takes a few pieces in his mouth, and walks somewhere else and eats them one at a time. It takes him ten minutes to eat one little dog treat. What a 'tard.



Tito is spoiled. He doesn't get in trouble, he eats half my food, he takes up the bed. I take him everywhere with me- the store, Andrews, you name it, and he's there. I buy him clothes and sweaters, so he doesn't get cold. I love this dog. He may be a shit, but he's my baby.





Yes, I put him in a flannel shirt.
But isn't he so adorable??



Let The Lesbians And Gay Dudes Get Married

So, I've been sitting at work today, and all day I've been trying to think of something to write about. I wanted so badly to post today. I started browsing through the internet, and then I came upon an article about same-sex couples getting married in Seattle. (I am going to include a link to this at the bottom of the blog. It is truly touching.) Now, gay marriage is something I whole-heartedly support. I feel like all couples should have the right to get married, whether they are gay or straight. As I was looking through all the pictures and photos of these couples, I also read the headline of an article about something the LDS church released a statement on. "The experience of same-sex attraction is a complex reality for many people. The attraction itself is not a sin, but acting on it is." This little statement pissed me off to no end. I am going to explain why.

First off, I have to give them credit for at least admitting that one's sexual preference is not a choice. Way to go. However, for them to say that acting on your desires is fucking bull shit. They would rather you live a lie, and hide the fact that you are gay or be lonely or force yourself to have a relationship with someone that you are not interested, than they would like for you to be happy just being yourself! Honestly, that makes no sense. Being gay, and not "acting upon it" just means that you are living a lie! Thou shall not lie.

I would like to know how it affects ANYONE if two people of the same sex are getting married right now. This is not ruining your life, relationships, or any aspect of your life. This isn't causing people to die, and for those of you who think that same-sex relationships are killing people by spreading AIDS, first off, I would like to invite you to shut the fuck up. Secondly, so some research, you ignorant fuck. Nobody likes you.

Now, I understand that some people are going to take the religious point of view and say that God says gay marriage is a sin. I would like to remind all of you that if you are a true Christian, you believe that God created everyone, and that everyone is equal. This means gays, too. Asshole. If you want to be a Christian, than fucking act like one, and stop being an ignorant asshole.

Now you all know where I stand, and what I think. If you disagree with me, that's fine. We can agree to disagree.  I'm going to think you're an asshole, though. I'm a bitch like that. Now, look at these awesome photos in the link I've included.

 http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/joyful-declarations-of-love-from-newlyweds-in-seat

Deck The Halls With Bones And Balls

Christmas is coming. Time for parties, and holiday cheer, and decorating. This is my first year of decorating my own place for Christmas. You know what that means... I don't have shit.

I had my own stocking, which was made for me by my grandma when I was born. That's it. So, as Andrew and I were shopping for ugly sweaters, we came across some Christmas stockings. We bought 2 of them- one for him and one for Tito. Now, I don't know who designed Tito's Christmas stocking, but it has a dog on it, and says "Deck the halls with bones and balls." This cracks me up. Seriously. Who said, with a straight face, that the stocking should mention bones and balls without laughing hysterically? And who went along with that idea?? I don't now, but I am grateful for them, because that saying is now decorating my fireplace.

Now, as for a Christmas tree, those things are fucking expensive. It's a fucking tree! It costs you 10 cents for the seeds, and water. And you're charging $70? Really? Fuck that! I'm poor as shit! So as I was walking around, deciding what to do, I got the most brilliant idea. And I made my own Christmas tree. It took 3 green poster boards, a string of lights, a string of beads, 2 sets of bulbs, tin foil, and nails. Lots of nails. Fuck it, I don't have to pay to fill the holes.

Now, when I first got this idea in my head, I thought it was going to look ghetto as fuck. Seriously, it's a fucking paper tree. I was thoroughly surprised, and so happy with my creation. It is actually pretty cute.

So now I'm decorated for Christmas. I got my tree, and my stockings, and will soon have a gingerbread house to top it all off. Ya, I'm classy as fuck. Happy holidays. May your halls be decked with bones and balls this holiday season.

My Jeep Cannot Fit A King Sized Bed, Dumbass.

Well, to those of you readers who have been enjoying the Dan drama, I have another story for you. Like all of my Dan stories, I would like to start with this...

FUCK YOU DAN!

Ok, so really, I thought this whole mess was over. I thought he would come and get his shit and leave me the fuck along. Boy, was I wrong!

Yesterday I went to my leasing office to thank them for changing my locks. My leasing manager is badass. Seriously love her. Anyways, she informs me that if his stuff is not gone by tomorrow (which is now today) maintenance is going to come and throw everything away. It is a fire hazard, considering it's blocking off my entire back porch.  Well, fuck. Now what do I do?

I tell Dan the situation. Again, no reply. My new roommate Amee (ya, I just found out I've been spelling her name wrong the entire time. Whoops!) comes home, and she got a new phone. She calls him, because he's obviously not going to recognize the answer. This is how the conversation goes:

Amee: Dan, I wanted to make sure you're ok. Your stuff is still here, in the rain. When are you coming to get it?

Dan: Ya, I have a new place, but I have no way of transporting my stuff.

Amee: You have a car, and everything but three items, the bed, chair, and dresser, will fit into your car. Come and get all that, and figure out something else for the rest.

Dan: I don't have any way of getting it.

Amee: Like I said, everything but THREE THINGS will fit into your car!

Dan: Ok. What about the rest?

Now, at this point, I would have said, as for the rest, go fuck yourself. And you can find someone with a truck or rent a U-Haul. It's not my problem. Amee doesn't go this route. This is how she responds:

Amee: Well, Shaye has a jeep, we can just use her car.

What the fuck did you just say?? Fuck you, bitch.You did NOT just volunteer not only my car, but told him I'd help him move. I'm not doing shit. Why, you ask? Because:

A) Dan can go fuck himself. In the ass. With a mother fucking cactus. A cactus infected with genital warts. That's how much I like Dan at this point. I know, I'm so fucking nice. You don't have to tell me.

B) I've been helping this mother fucker for a month by letting him keep his shit here. He's made NO effort to move it, and threatened to steal and break my shit. Why the fuck would I help him?

C) This fucker owes me money. Over $300 at this point. And he wants me to help him??

D) You didn't even fucking ask me first!

E) None of the remaining stuff is even going to fit in my jeep! He has a fucking king sized bed, a huge wooden dresser, and a gigantic over-stuffed recliner. Ya, there's no way that's fitting in my jeep. Dumbass.

Oh ya, I'm fuckin' pissed. Seriously, who does that?? So today, instead of being able to go home and relax after a long day at work, Andrew and I are gonna have to stay out and about, doing shit, until bed time. I'm infuriated.

Fuck you Dan, and find your own fucking way to move your shit..

Goodbye, Asshole!

First off, I would again like to say FUCK YOU DAN! Seriously. Such a dick. He never showed up to get his stuff from the apartment. He did threaten to break or steal my stuff though. What a dick. So, with the help of my new roommate, we moved everything outside! I called him beforehand to warn him. He did not reply, nor did he show up. All of his belongings are outside, in the rain. (We wrapped any electronics and kept them out of the rain, because we are bitches, but we are nice.) This morning, his stuff was still there. Really? Are you mentally handicapped? 'Cause you seriously left all your shit in the rain. Fucktard. I have included some pictures so you can see, kind of, although they're dark as fuck 'cause it was dark outside. Fuck night time for ruining my pictures.

So Amy is my new roommate. She has been sleeping on the couch, waiting for Dan to move his shit. We got so sick of it yesterday, we had a Move-Dan-Out girl party. It was fantastic. We celebrated with cosmos afterward. Delicious!

Now, while all this was happening, let me just tell you. Babette saved my life. Seriously. Not only did she take my computer and T.V. and keep it safe for me, in case psycho fucktard Dan showed up, she stayed at my house this morning until maintenance came to change the locks. Otherwise, he would have had access to the apartment. I cannot tell you what a life saver she is. Seriously, Babette, if you read this, I love you. And so does Tito. Obviously. He loves everyone. What a trusting little puppy.

So, that concludes the Dan story. I never got the money he owed me, but if his things aren't gone tonight, I'm just going to sell them. He owes me. Fucktard.

Holding A Painting Hostage

I am a nice person. This did not used to be the case. However, I've grown, and changed, and decided I didn't want to be a bitch anymore. Sometimes, though, people have a way of getting me to be a bitch. In this case, it is my ex-roommate, Dan.

Let me start with this-he is the biggest douche. Seriously. He's a fucktard. He is inconsiderate and immature.

So I decided I needed a roommate because I was not able to pay the rent and utilities alone. I posted an ad on KSL and got a plethora of responses, from creepy old men to guys asking me to be their fuck-buddy-slash-roommate. Ew. So Dan comes along, and he is the only sane person. We make an agreement. He pays $400 in rent and half of the utilities. He pays the first month awesomely. Sweet!

Month 2 rolls around, we get along great, but he pays his rent late.. I say ok, I'll work with you, but you have to pay the late fees. He does, and all is good with the world again. Then I get woken up at 2 in the morning, because he brought 3 of his friends home from the bar for a no-pants party.. On a fucking Wednesday night!! Could you not wait until Saturday, when I don't have work the next day? Whatever, he lets me drink his coffee and buys me Cafe Rio to make up for it. Again, all is good with the world.

Month 3, I get home to find a 'Pay or Vacate' notice on my door. What? I paid my rent! Oh... Dan. So I confront him. He doesn't answer. Finally I get a hold of him, he says he has the money, but isn't paying because "It does not affect you when I pay my half of the rent." Uh, what?? Mind you, it is MY name that is on the lease, not his. It's my rent record that's getting affected, not his. I'm pissed. he goes another week before finally paying... And he still doesn't pay the late fees he owes. Seriously, dude?? Like, really? Grow up! You're acting like a child.

Obviously, this guy is immature and irresponsible. So I set a time when we're both home, and break the news to him.. I'm kicking him out. Originally, I was going to give him time. However, he retaliated saying he was not going anywhere until he was ready, and that I couldn't legally kick him out. What?? That makes no fucking sense. My name is on the lease, not yours. It's my apartment, and if I don't want you here, you need to leave. End of story. Oh no. He goes on about lawyers and law school, pretty much just being a giant dick. I am pissed.

Meanwhile, I get a new roommate lined up, who needs somewhere to go ASAP. While he's being a dick, she's sleeping on the couch. Poor girl. I feel horrid. I try calling him, try texting him. The leasing office serves him a 72-Hour Notice to vacate. Nothing. So I call a lawyer. Because he was served a 72-Hour notice, after that time, anything left in the apartment belongs to me. SWEET! So I text him and tell him, if he doesn't move his shit, I'm selling it/putting it outside. I can legally do that. Keep in mind, he still hasn't paid his late fees or utilities. Fuck him.

He texts me, and says he'll be gone by the first. I see him at the apartment, he says he has the money, just doesn't have it on him. He then goes to the club and spends $50. This I know, because he took my new roommate with him. HA!

So the first of the month rolls around... Then the second... His stuff is still there. I call him, asking his plan. He says this. "I have a martial arts class I can't miss, but I'll come get it tomorrow."
Me. "And you'll bring the money with you, right?"
Him. "Ya.. I would have paid it earlier, but I just can't trust you since you kicked me out."

Um... FUCK YOU! Seriously? You can't trust me? You were the one that wasn't paying your rent here, not me, buddy.

So today is the day he said he was coming for his stuff. I have a feeling he has no plans of leaving the money. So I did what I thought would be necessary. I took his painting and am holding it hostage.

Now, this is no normal painting. This is a scroll painting of the Great Wall of China. It's an excellent painting, and I wish it was mine. But it's not. Fuck. Anyways, it is also his favorite painting. It is something that he is gonna want, and want badly. So, I left for work, and I put this painting in my car. When he asks where it is, I'm going to tell him to meet me at the leasing office with the money and the key, and he can have the fucking painting. FUCK YOU DAN! I win! 

So now, I'm sitting at work, and I left my phone at home. FUCK. When he calls about the painting, no one is gonna answer. Because I don't have my fucking phone. So now I have to go home at lunch and get my phone, and I pray to God he isn't there. I'd rather do this after work, when I have no plans.

Also, fuck you, Dan.

No, I Do Not Have A Mirror In My Pocket

When I go out in public alone, I often get hit on. Whether it be the guy who's serving my food, or the guy standing behind me in line, even the girl walking past me, it happens. Which is unfortunate, because it's fucking annoying. Although I won't lie, it does give a girl a confidence boost. However, what's annoying is how the guy-or sometimes girl-goes about it.

I was standing in line for some food yesterday, and the guy behind me tapped me on the shoulder and said, "You are more beautiful than even Princess Leah, my dear." Um.... Holy shit, you're nerdy as fuck. Like, did you really just say that to me? Do I look like someone who watches Star Wars all day and plays with action figures, living in my parents' basement 'til I'm thirty? Nope, didn't think so! Now, this is just one example of the atrocities I've heard that boys like to call "Pick-Up Lines." Here are some examples:

• "Hey there, hot stuff!" This does not make me attracted to you. It makes me want to laugh at you. Seriously, are you 12?
• *Whistling and cat calls* Seriously, any guy who does this is a douche. You can't even walk up and offer a general compliment? No, you keep your distance and hit on a girl, pussy style. Let me show you my middle finger. Douche.
• Cheesy Pick-Up Lines. "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" "Is there a mirror in your pocket? 'Cause I can totally see myself in your pants." Yes, both of those lines have been used on me. Yes, both times I laughed and just walked  away. THAT DOES NOT WORK. I don't know who started that trend, but he deserves to be hanged and then thrown into a pit of velociraptors. He's that stupid.

Boys, There are ways to pick up a girl without being a cheesy-as-fuck douche. There really are. Let me tell you the easiest way. It really is so easy. Start a conversation with the girl. When you go to part ways, ask for her number. It's that easy! Really, it is! Now, when you start this conversation, do not EVER at any part mention sex, how much money you have, the weather, or what a bitch your ex is. Seriously. Those are some major turn-offs that make you look like a douche.

Don't know how to strike up a conversation? Well first, you are socially awkward and you should probably just walk away. Second, all you have to do is compliment her. Tell her that her shirt looks nice, or you like her hair cut. Be honest though. Don't lie about something just to get her to talk to you. She WILL know that you are lying. Girls are smart like that. (I know. Girls? Smart about anything other than making sandwiches? What a surprise!) Find something you genuinely like (NOT her boobs or ass) and compliment her on it. Then ask how her day is, and continue from there. Be natural, don't force the conversation. Otherwise you're gonna make it really awkward.

If you are trying to hit on a girl or compliment her, and she responds all bitchy, drop it. DO NOT pursue her. I have seen guys continually try to talk to a girl when she's giving short smart-ass responses. Really buddy, just stop. You are embarrassing yourself, and making yourself look desperate. Stop.

As a last little note, if a girl comes up to you dressed like a skank, asking if she can offer you any service, don't fall for it. She's probably trying to sell you something you don't need. Like tupperware. Or a BJ. Or Herpes.

Fuck You, Razor

I have never met anyone who is more accident prone than I am. It is fucking ridiculous. Here are some examples:

1. When I was 9, I cut my thumb off carving a pumpkin. You'd think that by 9 I would know how to use a knife. Apparently not.
2. When I was 11, I fractured my wrist playing baby dolls with my sister. Really?? The safest game a little girl could play, and I fracture my wrist doing it. What. The. Fuck.
3. In 6th grade, while playing basketball, the ball came and hit my hand in a way so perfect as to tear all the ligaments in my thumb. Fucking fantastic.
4. In seventh grade, during sewing class, I sewed through my finger. As if that wasn't enough, when I went and told my mom what happened (she worked at my school), she gave me a tissue to wrap it in. A tissue that she had earlier blown her nose in. Disgusting. And extremely unhygienic.
5. When I was a teenager, I dropped our trash can on my foot, and it completely severed the end of my big toe. Holy fuck, that hurt like hell. Shoes? No, thanks.
6. I have tendonitis in my wrists so bad that they required surgery, putting me in a full arm cast for 10 weeks the same year I should've gone to state for swimming. Instead, I was at home, high on pain meds with a neon orange cast. Fuck you, tendons.

Now that you have a history of all the shit that has happened to me, let me tell you about my most recent encounter.

So this morning, I'm taking a shower, minding my own business, shaving my legs and BAM! The razor slips and I slice off my fingernail. MY FINGERNAIL!! Seriously??? Who fucking does that??? Only I would slice off my fingernail while taking a shower. And this wasn't even a sharp, nice razor. It's one of those shitty disposable ones! It can't shave the hair on my legs on the first try, but in a split second it can slice off my fingernail, no problem. What the fuck??

So I have a job where I type a lot, and I get to work, and my finger hurts. Obviously. Everyone knows that fingernail injuries are the worst injuries. They fucking hurt. And there's nothing you can do about it! There is nothing to relieve the pain, you just have to wait for months on end for your fingernail to grow back. It fucking sucks. So now I'm at work, with 3 band-aids on my finger to help relieve the pain that overcomes my finger every time I have to press a key. It's gonna be a long fucking day.

You are the Definition of Filth

I am pretty adamant about having good hygiene. I feel disgusting if I don't take a shower every day. I feel even worse if I don't wash my hands after going to the bathroom. Seriously, that's fucking disgusting. Wash your fucking hands.

There is nothing more disgusting to me than when I'm in a public restroom, washing my hands, and someone walks out of the stall and right out the door. Seriously?? You just went to the bathroom, and stuck your hands all up in your business to wipe yourself, and you aren't going to wash your hands?? You disgust me.

When I see these people, walking out of the bathroom with their nasty shit hands, I have to stop myself from gagging. I think about their life, and think about how disgusting they are, and I want to start dry heaving. I picture their house and think, "You are a hoarder. There is no way your house isn't filled with moldy food wrappers and thousands of ugly knick-knacks, housing thousands of mice with their nasty little mice babies, eating their way through your mess of a home. You probably don't take showers, and even if you tried, you couldn't, because your bathtub is filled with more shit that you're hoarding. I'm also sure that you have some serious B.O. because you obviously don't have any idea what personal hygiene or deodorant are." Seriously. That's what I imagine. It's disgusting.

Wash your fucking hands. If you don't know how, here's a guideline to teach you. You're welcome.

And if you don't want to count to 15, you can always sing the ABC's. That should add a little excitement to your hand washing party.