Welcome to Hell

Welcome to hell. Please take a number. Her Evilness will be with you when she damn well feels like it.

Friday, March 14, 2014

LOOK WHAT THEY'VE DONE TO MY HOUSE!!!

hey!  you may have noticed that i added a wee banner to the right there...

::trust me.  i'm pointing to the right.  scroll down a bit... yep!::

I'MMA GONNA BE A BOOOKSLUUUUT!!!!

just imagine me either taking copious bows, or jumping and squeeing, whichever gets your rocks off more.

actually, you may also have noticed that i have been THE WORST BLOGGER for the past year or so.  and i have plans to fix that... mostly in the form of thoughts like "i should blog more, goddamnit."  i'm admittedly bad at planning.

SO!



it's official.  hell has frozen over, cuz we bought a house.  yes, an entire damn house.

it is a tiny house.  it is a house in much need of repair.  but it is a HOUSE!!

now keep in mind... these photos are BEFORE the chaos...


le living room.  do not let its fancy appearance fool you.  it liiiies.  those aren't even real beams on the ceiling.  they're just pretending.  note the lovely popcorn ceiling! /gag


this is gonna be full of musical instruments.  um... soon.  yeah.


our friendly neighborhood realtor, who is like 6'4" (also the music room)


i don't think i need to tell you why the kitchen had to be gutted.  it measured maybe 3 feet between sink and stove.  The Matt is 5'8".  it would be a head hazard just to wash the dishes.


it was THE TINIEST, and would barely fit two of us in it at all, much less if we were actually planning on cooking a thing.

HA.  because i totally cook, right?
snort.

these pictures make the house look pretty nice, actually.  what you can't see from where you sit is the terribly uneven floors, and what looks like vinyl shelf liner applied as "flooring" directly over the concrete slab... complete with bubbling and gaps.  and the uneven walls that are out of square...

i spared you pictures of the horrible tiny bathrooms.  which we have a glorious, glorious plan for.  you will see.

but... we knew we were walking into a total gut job.  we signed up for this.

and i am beginning to think we were completely batshit.


oh, it will be painted, post haste.  i would have picked green, except we have 3 neighbors with clashing shades of green on their houses.

so uh, yellow got vetoed, and purple isn't a completely ridiculous shade for a house, right?
RIGHT?

i'm gonna need some help convincing The Matt that i don't plan on painting our house Faygo grape purple.  but i fucking hate neutral shades, i don't like red THAT much, and blue houses are all over the place.  i wouldn't mind orange... but then people might think we were UT fans.  AND WE CAN'T HAVE THAT.


this is why we can't have that.  that is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad color.  burnt orange my ass.  it's like baby shit OH GOD MY EYES brownish-vomit.


this pretty much sums up the condition of this place.  it was rough and uncared for.  it was cheap.

and that was BEFORE they let us swing a sledgehammer at the most expensive thing we've ever bought!

who knew house smashing would be SO MUCH FUCKING FUN??

The Matt, that is who.  he dug into demolition with a vengeance.  i saw it in its non-smashed condition, and then the next time i came over...


that WAS  a bedroom.


...and that WAS the living room/music room/kitchen...


not even the garage escaped.


 the entire house is literally see-through.  it's like an x-ray of a house.


i don't mind any of this.  i got to SATAN SMAAAASHHHHHHH!


i am SO GLAD that we decided to gut this place... because this is the type of nasty that we found.  evidently this was somewhat CLEANED, before i took a picture of it.

GAAHHHHH!

yeah.  we're crazy.

but hey...


at least we got a new mailbox.





this post's title courtesy of this earworm song and i DON'T CARE if you hate Miley Cyrus, she is actually talented, SHUT UP AND LISTEN, IT'S GOOD FOR YOU.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

vacations rarely go as planned...

while i was busy frolicking in Oregon, The Matt got laid.  **

this is SO not fair.  i mean, i was the one to go 3,000 miles away and stay with TWO former lovers...  it stands to reason that I should be the one getting laid, eh? ***
but no.  oh, no.

back it up, back it up:  i just spent about ten days in beautiful, beautiful Oregon.  i went to four different cities, spent time on a mountain, had a blast, and saw a ton of people.


i also got my hairs did.  look ma, my natural color is back!  for now, anyway...
okay, okay.  minus that bright red part.  and the bleached blonde streaks.  oh fuck it, it's kinda reddish and i won't have to dye it for a while.... that counts, right?

i am a very loyal Satan - i find one person i love (such as my Oregon stylist), and i'll never bother switching.  i don't go to Oregon to get my hair done... but guaranteed if i'm there, i'll be seeing Gina, for she is The Awesome, and i can tell her something incredibly vague like "make it look cool," and i will LOVE it when she's done.  hell, i could go in and say nothing, and my hair would still look awesome.  of the many, many things, places, and people in Oregon that i dearly miss, Gina rates very high on the list.


THIS place is about four blocks from my former Portland house... and oh, i love it so.  it is exactly what it sounds like.  it is also open past bar closing time, for all the right reasons, and thus an extremely entertaining place to be at about 2 am.


BUS.
this place serves something called a Grilled Cheezus, which is a hamburger patty sandwiched between two grilled cheese sandwiches.  it might be a heart attack on a plate, but it's such a GOOD heart attack...


so when i mentioned the mountain....
my former roommate Dave has moved out to ButtFuckEgypt, and it is just GORGEOUS out there.  he lives in a wee shack, which is built onto a bus.  there is only one drawback to all of this:  the outhouse.

it is ridiculously difficult to get out of one's cozy lofted bed to run out into the chill of the night just to piss.  it was one of those few times i wish i was a guy - i would literally just open a window and piss right out of it.  fuck that whole "getting up" business.  bitches be lazy.


see those deer?  they're stupidly tame.  to the right, that's Dave.  i don't think he knew he was in this photo.


(ps, this photo is not cropped, i was just close.)

these motherfuckers aren't scared of shit.  they will walk right up to you.  i went to the outhouse one night and heard a rustle rustle rustle rustle in the bushes - and lo and behold if these little bastards weren't staring at me as i made my way to piss. 

"Shoo!" i said, "i don't want a fucking audience!"  i stamped my foot and waved my flashlight at them, and... they just stared at me like "WHAT. derp derp, i'm a deer. " 
they never did move.  they just stared at me, while i peed.  

evidently deer are into that sort of thing.


HOLY MOTHER OF BEER.


mulberry sour beer:  because fuck your lager.


i knew The Matt was gonna get fat someday.


this exists:  just one of the many reasons i love Portland so...


...right across from Mr. Paul Bunyan, of course.  like you do.

it makes sense.  i am SURE that lumberjacks are all about the titties.  i know i am, even if i'm not a lumberjack - although i certainly own enough flannel to fit right in.   (shh, don't tell.  i'm secretly still a grunge kid.)  


and of course... new ink.  
one of the aforementioned former lovers has a brother who is SO. DAMN. GOOD.  he did this tattoo.  see?  this is just one of the many reasons why it's a good idea to be friends with your exes.  i even got a friend discount.  yeahhhhh!


they're ravens.  eight damn hours i sat for these birdies...
i now have a firm rule:  i will never, ever sit for more than four hours.  ever ever ever ever ever.  jesus fuck, that was brutal.


my personal least favorite part of tattoos, and the getting thereof:  the motherfucking molt.

for those of you who have never gone through the ritual of sticking needles into yourself for no good reason, this is what happens after the tattoo.  i don't care how bad the tattoo itself hurts, this is the worst part.  it ITCHES LIKE A FIEND, and you CAN'T SCRATCH IT, lest you start peeling the scabs (ahem) and then your ink bleeds out, and if so you have to go BACK, and then you get more scabs...  it's the worst.  the tattoo only takes so many hours.  the healing takes two weeks.  

right now i'm in the supremely itchy "look ma, no more scabs!" phase, but you're still not supposed to scratch it, and GODDAMNIT I'M SO ITCHY SOMEONE PLEASE COME SCRATCH MY ARM.  

okay, okay, onto the juicy shit, cuz we all know you're reading this because there's sex involved.  aren't you?  i'm writing it because sex is involved.

i was just chilling at a Portland bar, when this text conversation happened - verbatim.
Matt: "i'm hung over."
me: "went out with the girls?"  (his two friends from his hometown that now live in austin, also.)
Matt: "yep.  ended up taking [redacted] home with me."
me:  "oh yeah?  how'd that go?"
Matt:  "she is paranoid that you will hate her."
me:  "why?  silly girl."
Matt:  "i told her that she just needs to fuck you too and it will be ok."
me:  "i think it's funny that i took the trip, and YOU ended up the one getting laid.  good one, universe."

i announced this fact on twitter at some point, and one of the tweeps was like "argh are you infuriated?"  i don't think she knew about the poly.  i find it amusing that so many people think my life is INSANE, and i think THEIR life is nuts.  (fuck only one person?  WHY?  i'll just be over here with this hot girl... erm, respecting people's monogamy.  yeah.)

the last final bit of "excitement":  my first flight got canceled, so i spent an entire goddamn day at the airport.  and there's only one thing to do when you're stuck in an airport... go find the bar, and get drunk.

which i did, with help from a random bar friend who was on my flight.  she was cool, and she snagged me a seat on the "massive amounts of leg room" aisle later.  but we had a LOT to drink all day, so imagine my consternation when we landed in dallas at 2 am, went to go to our complimentary hotel, and got into this...


this is a motherfucking strippermobile!!  if i hadn't had so much luggage, i might have had to try it out.  as it was, i was tired and drunk and barely made it to the hotel without falling over.  i did manage to text, though:  i always do.

Matt:  "i assume when i see you in the morning you will be beaming sunshine and sparkles.
glitter too, can't forget the glitter."
me:  "HAAA.  i will probably immediately drag you back to bed.
THE KRAKEN.
be prepared for mass amounts of cuddling."
Matt:  "i love you too damn much."
me:  "no such fucking thing."

THE KRAKEN!!!!!

** The Matt and i are polyamorous.  feel free to go and google that.
have i mentioned i'm shitty at being monogamous?  i am really, really shitty at it.  fun fact:  i haven't had a monogamous relationship since before i was legally able to drink.

*** damn all yeast infections, anyway.  

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

when SXSW kicks your ass...

this past week and a half was SXSW, which, for the uninitiated, is South By SouthWest.  it's a city-wide festival in Austin, which is a great deal of music absolutely everywhere (and a lot of it free or cheap), film showings, and also a conference full of tech-y stuff.

apart from all the Stuff Going On Downtown, and All the Ridiculous Traffic Nonsense And Bullshit, we had four days of photobooth gigs.  in a row.

Jesus Fuck.

three of those days were at the convention center.
a word about doing gigs at convention centers:  they are HUGE, massive places.  they have loading docks, and you must go through them.  there's no way you're going through the front door, which is the average photobooth gig's usual MO.  so, since we go to all these gigs in the previous post's pictured truck, we sometimes have a bit of difficulty getting INTO places like convention centers, since we don't have an Obvious Work Vehicle.  this requires Loading Permits, and other Assorted Annoyances that we usually don't deal with.

thankfully, dealing with the Austin convention center was surprisingly easy.  i was gratified to find out that i didn't have any Issues with loading in or out.

our first gig was a 3 day event, in the tech-y showroom.


lookee!  an actual picture of one of our photobooths.  i usually don't put them on here, so as to not jeopardize our employment, and such.  but since you can't SEE our company name...


 i had lots of fun with these guys - they were screen printing, and so i got to watch them churn out some really excellent prints.

ignore the scribbling, i'm preserving the anonymity of our customers, so as to Not Get Sued.


but seriously, how cool is this?

they were making these prints:


during this gig we were SERIOUSLY busy... i had one pee break during the first day.  ONE.
i left every day hungry enough to eat the photobooth, since i didn't have time for meal breaks.

there were a ton of fun things to see at this convention, when i did finally get a chance to step away from the booth... see if you can spot why this sign gave me a serious giggle.


hehe.  hehe.  "ass typing."  now i'm seriously imagining someone trying to type on this sucker.  WITH THEIR ASS.  and failing, obviously.  bad ass typing, indeed.

grammar.  it's important, yo.


this was an excellent backdrop for a booth.  i don't have a clue what they did there, but i had to snap a photo.  the artist's name is in the bottom lower corner, for those who are curious to check out his/her work.


this guy was roaming around.  i have no fucking clue what they did either, but... SQUAREHEAD.

the second gig we had was at a bar, where not only were our clients Truly Excellent, but they also gave me four FREE drink tickets.  FOUR.  FREE.  DRINKS.  i loved them so hard.  


traffic during SXSW is a fucking nightmare, and so is parking.  for four days of working, i spent $60 in parking alone.  and that was with one day of me not having to park, since Matt gave me a ride.  i know.  that's crazy.  when not parking, i probably spent two hours a day getting in and out of the city... and i live 15 minutes away from downtown.

for the rest of SXSW i did what any reasonable non-working person would do, and Went Out and Got Drunk.  i met lots of random people, brought a full-size hookah to my favorite bar, went to a small party that was literally in a parking space in a high rise, flirted with some hot ladies, and also Saw Amanda Fucking Palmer, for free.  she brought a lot of cool bands with her.


these girls ranged from 12 - 18, were all sisters, and were fantastic.  look them up - they're called Von Grey.  i highly recommend them.  another one of the Bands of Awesome were called Andy Suzuki and The Method.  also definitely worth a listen.  and of course, Amanda Fucking Palmer put on a great show.  if you haven't heard her, or heard of her, check her out.  she is AMAZING.

by the way?  the absolute BEST place to stop downtown for free bathroom facilities is also one of the prettiest - the Capitol building.  breeze through the metal detectors, take a few pics, and hightail it into the bathroom.


also.  did you know that you can bring pocketknives under six inches long into the Capitol building?  i asked a State Trooper to be sure, and his response was "sure, as long as you show it to the security guards, and don't go and wave it at people."

only in Texas.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Casa de Hell gets an UPGRADE


a lot of shit has happened, since last i blogged.  a lot of it was me being a lazy jackass.  like you do.  i could go on at length about that shit, but why bother?  let's get to the fun parts:

as it happens, in september The Matt came into a bit of money, shall we say...
overnight we went from BROKE AS FUCK to... well.  we're not set for life, by any means.  not even close.  but when you go from $4 in your bank account to "oh holy shit," things change a bit...

"i bought something really stupid," Matt texted me.  i was afraid - i mean, REALLY stupid? like what?  a fucking ostrich?  Really Stupid is generally Not Good.
as it turned out, the Stupid Purchase was rims. 
rims?  RIMS??
on an old beat up Chevy Suburban.  
really.  
to be fair, said rims aren't flashy chrome affairs.  they're fairly simple and tasteful, and Matt is making me say that the truck really DID need new rims anyway.  but.  RIMS.  


they see me rollin'... they hatin...

our first "frivolous" purchase was a washer and dryer, the blessedness of which can't even remotely be summed up in words.  I NEVER HAVE TO GO TO THE LAUNDROMAT AGAIN, OH JESUS FUCK YES!!! 
we thought we were Hot Shit, being all smart and buying some appliances.  but the crazy was just beginning...

it's strange, going from "can we pay the electric bill?" to "sure, let's buy a fridge!"  (which we had to do, here at our new rental house.)  


the cabinets were filthy... you're welcome for the gratuitous picture of my ass.

said rental house is more than twice the size of the closet we were previously living in.  like, we have to buy furniture for this place.  it's a weird feeling - i've always had too much shit to fit into wherever i was living.  and now we need a dining room table, and furniture for a guest room?  am i starting to act like a grownup?  SHIT!!

our neighbors have no idea what the fuck to make of us.  they're all older, with families, and they stare at us like we're cuckoo birds or something every time we go outside of the house.  i don't know if it's because we're young, or if it's because i'm wearing whatever ridiculous ratty thing i own, and climbing into the oldest car in the neighborhood.  these people are kinda snobby around here.  we live in one of those McMansion neighborhoods, which is causing no end of amusement for us, especially when the old dude across the street sits in his Porsche revving it like there's no tomorrow.

Matt decided to save his (and my) sanity by getting me a new laptop for my birthday, since my old one was on the fritz.  so here we go to the Mac store... where they wouldn't take our money.  it was the most bizarre thing i've ever seen.  

see, what had happened was...

we have been broke since forever, until now, so we both have daily limits on our debit cards.  limits that, even combined, wouldn't buy a laptop from Mac.  so we tried a check.  no go. "blah blah our third party check company blah blah go fuck yourself."  this was done a few times, despite the fact that our bank was approving it, so...

in we go to the bank for a cashier's check.  because everyone and their fucking brother takes  a cashier's check, amiright?  NO.  not Apple.  same bullshit.  "fuck your check.  your mother was a hampster, and your father smelled of ELDERBERRIES!"

in the end, it took FIVE TRIES for me to get a damn laptop.  we had to walk into the store with almost $4000 in cash like some fucking Gangsta Drug Dealing Badasses, Matt grumbling the whole time. "i feel like just throwing shit.  it's not like they could make me pay for it - they won't even take my money!"


my precioussss...

there's been a lot of amusement around here, just simple shit.  "argh, i really want to do/get this thing, but it's SO EXPENSIVE and i can't afford to.... 
WAIT A MINUTE."
i'm talking about things like doctor's visits, and going to the dentist - the things we've been putting off forever, due to, y'know, being broke.  

one side effect, which is AMAZING to my mind but CATASTROPHIC in Matt's world...
i can now BUY ALL THE BOOKS.  ALL THE BOOKS.  ALL YOUR BOOKS ARE BELONG TO ME! 
i filled up an entire bookshelf in a matter of a few months with new books - and when i mean full, i mean...




to be fair, i am buying them at thrift stores and used bookstores, but... still.
ALL THE BOOKS.  i think Matt is still holding it against me that we had to move all of them over to the new house.

Matt fulfilled his fantasy of having a tv larger than a computer monitor.  and now we are still going "WHOA!" every time we turn it on, because this thing is bloody massive.


old and new...

we also had my fucking car break down, and found ourself in need of new wheels, and thus...


vroom, motherfuckers.

texas drivers can't drive for shit, and i get sick of people cutting me off on the highway.  i want to ram the shit out of them, because they're douchebags.  and then i'd probably get arrested.  this has always stopped me before.  

but now i'm not afraid of getting arrested, it's just like... i don't want to go to jail today.  what a fucking hassle.
it used to be the money thing - oh god, i don't want to go to jail, how EXPENSIVE, i would diiie...   now? "dahling, what a bother."
(Matt informed me that if i rammed the new car into someone, he would let me sit in jail.)

 The Matt got some more insanely loud things...


and i got a motherfuckin box fort.  


best. fort. ever.

i now find myself in the rather curious position of having a Sugar Daddy.  Matt is Mr. Money all of a sudden, and i'm just... me.  not to say that i'm not reaping the benefits, certainly, but it's strange.  

"Daddyyy, will you buy me a pony?  preeettttyyyy please???"

we live in this strange in-between state - yes, we have some fancy-looking shit, and our new house is huge, and all of our friends probably think we hit the jackpot - but really, we're just us.  we still have this "we be broke as shit" mindset, and get all nervous about buying spendy stuff, even if we do need it.  

and then i have this weird guilt - like, god, are people gonna hate me and think i'm bragging & shit, just because i can buy some stuff?  fuck!  i'm just me.  um, with stuff.  a lot of stuff.

when we finally get this house set up, with all our shit unpacked and, you know, clean, i will of course shower you with some pictures.  stay tuned for more ridiculousness.  because in Casa de Hell, nothing ever goes as planned...