Welcome to Hell

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

Saturday, November 12, 2011


it has come to my attention that some spambots have REALLY wanted to tell me ALLL about Fuggs, lately.  i've had like 27 spam comments from them, & it's ridiculous.

first off, y'all?  i have some.
they look like this:

except for mine look like they've been chewed by a bear, or something.
they came to me dirty, to be fair.  but then i managed to vomit on them the other day (due to food poisoning rather than drinking, which is a SHAME) and then all was lost.  they now probably look like they belong to a homeless person.

to say it mildly, they're NOT a fashion statement.  no.
what they ARE = warm fuzzy houseshoes to wear out of your house, when it's winter and your toes are cold.
cute?  hell no.  but at least they're better than the last incarnation i was using, which looks like this:

Matt might break up with me for this picture.
you may blame my dad for buying me the fuzzy boots.

and secondly, spammers?  i don't want to pimp your Fuggs either.  i don't wanna buy any from you, and i'm CERTAINLY not about to give you free advertisement on mah blog.

i am ashamed, but i heart my Fuggs. i'm wearing them right now.

cuz let's be honest with ourselves -big fuzzy boots are almost NEVER a fashion statement.

unless some hoity toity designer makes them or something, and they're a million dollars.

but that doesn't mean we can't loll around in our Fuggs like the houseshoes they are.
carry on.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

i dub thee Minions!

i got an award the other day - woo!  i like awards.  shower me with praise!

ahem.  anyway, i'm passing this one along - i just asked who wanted it, and voila!  people came out of the woodwork.  ^_^

@thedeaconblue :   his blog is Holy S!+t
of course you can tell why i like him.  bwahahahaha.

@RubberChickenMa  who writes Rubber Chicken Madness.  
and who doesn't like some rubber chickens?  nobody, that's who.

next is @forever_trust who writes Our Transplant Journey.
she writes about everything!

@crystalpratt is a sloth at House of Sloth. 
how cool are sloths?  way cool.  go get your sloth on!

@blogginglily posts on Just a Lil Blog
he has hilarious beard pictures.  beards are the shit.

all right y'all, come get your button - and pass it on!

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

don't be an asshole!

want to know why you shouldn't be an asshole?
because there are people out there in the world; people like me, who have absolutely ZERO shame.  ZERO.

the other night at yet another wedding gig i encountered a type that i've seen before, occasionally - the wedding crashers.
now, most wedding crashers are just hanging around near me to use the photo booth.  and most of them are reasonable - if told to go away, they go.  simple.
and sometimes, they're really nice, and they take nice pictures and tip you and offer to share their booze, and.... ahem.  

these guys?  not so nice.  they were incredibly drunk, and they were crashing someone's WEDDING.  in t-shirts, and jeans.  they were from Holland probably, which i deduced from the fact that they were speaking a language that was not German, Swedish, Finnish, Norwegian, French, etcetera.

they came through the photobooth at first, and i wasn't absolutely sure they weren't wedding guests (i have seen stranger things, after all), so i let them go.
then, i started asking the wedding guests:  do you know these guys?
no.  they definitely did NOT know those guys.

the wedding crashers disappeared for a while, but showed back up even drunker, carrying 40s, and trying to steal an entire 2-liter of diet coke, which is just tacky, okay?

they joined the back of the photobooth line.  i went over, and asked them to leave.
they obviously spoke and understood selective english - meaning they understood me just fine, but pretended not to.

as the two drunken assholes came out of the photobooth a second time (which i unfortunately wasn't able to prevent), the bride showed up, and asked me and them what the hell was going on here.
"i've been trying to get rid of them, but they speak selective english,"  i said to her.
"english?  we speak english,"  one of them said.
"really?  oh, great!  well, understand this.  this is HER wedding that you are crashing, which means this is a private event - which means you should split.  now."
they started leaving.
"and leave the damn diet coke!" shouted the bride after them.

now normally, i am not so much of an asshole that i post pics of people without permission, without a censor bar over their eyes.
but this time?  consider this just rewards, for being asshole wedding crashers.  take that, you fuckers!

kids, don't do this.  after all, you don't want your drunken pictures plastered all over the internet, now do you?

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

the ghosts of halloweens past...

in the past, i've been pretty... ahem... repetitive in my choice of halloween costumes.  i've mostly vacillated between vampire, devil, and black cat for YEARS.
this was one of the few exceptions...

and of course, there were all those years i went as a pirate... and i don't think those years are over just yet - i mean, look at that hat!!!

love the hat.  adore it, i say!!!

then there's the vampire getting out....  this was at a Vampire ball, so really, what else was i supposed to be?

i did go as a crazy lady in 2009.  as if that was much of a stretch...

Matt was a doucheboard skateboarder.  the cat was... well, i don't know.  psycho as usual?

and a pirate again...

then there was the time i went to the club as a harem girl...
do y'all have any idea how hard it is to get harem pants off when you're trying to pull them off over stripper shoes? yeah.

chomp!  (again...)

at least in this case, i was a specific vampire - Pam from True Blood.

The Matt was a gay cowboy.  he's surprisingly good at that.


 i thought about going as an alligator, but that didn't quite pan out.
THEN i got a GREAT idea for this year, but all our halloween plans fell through, soo...
this year i was kinda boring.  i stayed at home.  and i was a cat.

but i was a SPARKLY blue cat, so that counts as being somewhat creative...right?

next year, i have a fantastic idea - of course, i'm not giving it away.  all i'm saying is - it involves a LOT of lace.  a TON of lace.
and my friends will NEVER see it coming.  muahahahahaha!

Thursday, October 13, 2011

let's get serious (for once...)

y'all, i enjoy being a funny person.  (well, hopefully i amuse people.  i amuse the shit out of myself!)  but right now, i'm going to take a break from humor, and i'm going to talk about some important shit.

i don't know what y'all think about the Occupy Wall Street stuff going on.  
i am cynical because i don't think it will change anything, but i also think it's very fucking important for these things to be voiced.  
because no matter what political side you're on, everyone must realize that there is some fucked up shit going on in America right now.

i don't like to bitch about my life.  i hate it.  i know i should feel very lucky to be where i am.  but i don't.  and today i am going to bitch.  (it's mah blog, and i'll cry if i want to!  cry if i want to!  cry if i want to!)

y'all know a lot more about the weirder sides of my life than the boring stuff.  you may not know about the day-to-day personal side.  some of you are my great friends on The Twitter and others know me in real life, so some of you kinda know what's going on.  but i'm sure there's some random people reading this that have no clue about the practical side of my life.

i'm just going to (try to) stick to the facts.  i'm keeping it chronological. 

the last several years of my life
in 2006, i drove to Oregon to finish my degree at a liberal arts school in small-town Oregon, near Portland. 

in may of 2007, i graduated with a BA in Creative Writing.   i went to school on scholarship.  i had to maintain a 3.7 GPA throughout my college years.  i graduated cum laude.  when i graduated, i had accumulated $20,000 dollars of student loan debt, even with my $13k+ scholarships each year.

after graduating, i was unemployed.  i had to live off a credit card for a while, to keep my head above water and pay my bills. 

in June 2008, i finally landed a job at a prosperous law firm in Portland, OR.  i moved to the city, and sold my car to help pay the credit card bill, since i was off several major bus lines and the car wasn't a necessity.  
i wasn't doing well, but at the very least i was paying all my bills, and i could eat.  i couldn't afford luxuries, but i wasn't falling behind anywhere.

in april 2009, i was laid off from the law firm.  i did get unemployment benefits.  they were not enough for me to pay bills AND rent, so for a while i was homeless.  
i had my stuff stored in my friend and former roommate Dave's basement, and i camped for a month or so.  i volunteered at a music festival, and they fed us.  i slept over at friends' houses.  i crashed with The Matt, before we moved in together later (a move which was precipitated by him shattering his knee, and losing his income; we made the decision to move in together not because of our relationship, but out of financial need).  
i was a couch-camper; thankfully i never had to sleep on the street.  i have very good friends.  i also had food stamps, so i was able to feed myself.

i tried to find jobs, and i did find a temporary job, but i was fired after 3 weeks, for no reason i could see.

Matt and i did end up renting a room again for the few months before I left Portland, in our friends' house.  but when we had to move from that house, we decided it was time to try and make a change in our lives, in the hopes that we could somehow be better off elsewhere.

december, 2009, Matt and i moved from Portland to Pensacola, FL so that we could squat in my dad's foreclosed house, while we saved money and figured out what the hell to do.  when i moved, i lost my unemployment. 

in march 2010, we moved to new orleans and began the frantic job search.  it... didn't go well.  the job market might be even worse here in New Orleans than it was in Portland.

i got the worst job ever, and was then fired from it for a really shitty reason.  i was fired from other random jobs.  then, i just couldn't find any.  i couldn't get interviews.  (for the record:  from 1999 to 2009, i worked steadily, and i had NEVER been previously fired.  ever.)  i stumbled along through a combination of random photobooth gigs, and eking by as a stripper.  my bipolar and anxiety was steadily rising.

march 2011, my mom got me an SUV (which she is still paying on) so that i could do more photobooth jobs, and quit stripping. it helped, but photobooth gigs are by their nature unreliable.  unreliable income is INSANELY stressful, especially if you have to wonder if you're going to make rent every month.  
my bipolar and anxiety started flaring big-time.  i was unable to even go in to strip when i needed to, because i would have anxiety attacks and be unable to go. 

here is me, right now:
it's october 13th, and so far i have only been able to pay $100 of my $400 rent to my landlord.
i can't pay any of my credit card bills, and creditors call me every day. 
my student loans are deferred, or in forbearance, collecting interest.

The Matt has to pay all the bills, which he can't afford to do, either.  

we go without food sometimes. it affects him a LOT more than it does me.  he has lost 40 pounds in the last 2 years (although part of that was due to shattering his knee, and losing muscle).  he's already a skinny dude.  he weighs less than me, and he's 2 inches taller.

 i have exactly $0.24 in the bank right now.  no cash.  i get paid $150 tomorrow, and $100 will go straight to the landlord, but my rent will still only be half paid.  the other $50 will be put towards paying back a friend, who loaned me $200.  this month i will get about $750; my costs are about $1100, bare minimum.  i will still be behind.  it feels like i will always be 

My bipolar is barely controlled; my anxiety is running rampant because the only doctor i can afford won’t prescribe me anxiety meds. why, i do not know. she just won’t. maybe she thinks i’m a drug seeker. maybe she just doesn’t care. 
i can’t afford my meds. i have no health insurance. i have no prayer of health insurance, even if i could afford it:  i have preexisting conditions.  bipolar disorder.  asthma.

Medicaid won’t accept me because i can’t prove my income. Ditto for food stamps.

i feel like a complete failure.  last year my grandparents guilt-tripped me for my birthday.  i was pissed and wrote them back, snarkily.  they haven't spoken to me since.

my mom doesn't guilt trip me, but she pushes me to try to get more work.  i wish i could accurately explain to her what the job prospects are really like for me.  she doesn't have any idea; she simply can't, because she has 30+ years of experience and she gets hired, even if she doesn't get paid nearly enough for her worth.

lately, my mom's completely quit worrying about me.  but it's because she's focusing on my step-dad, who just got diagnosed with cancer.  one bad medical bill could put them completely under.  mom can't even afford to take time off work to be with him while he has his cancer treatments half the country away.

my dad had his house foreclosed in 2009, the one we squatted in for a few months.  at least he seems to be doing better, financially, but he's the only one in our family.

my brother can't get a job.  i can't get a job.
The Matt, whose resume is even better than mine, can't get another job.  he has management experience out the wazoo.  but nothing.

we live underneath the poverty line.

a few days ago, i was fortunate enough to get a gig as an extra for a tv show.  we supposedly get paid in two weeks (by check), and it should be $100.  at least i should have some of next month's rent, eh?  or maybe i'll be able to pay the rest of this month's rent by the end of the month.

i am bringing all this up, because i am hardly the only struggling poor person who does NOT deserve to be in that position.  this is not just me, being "stupid with my money," or "lazy," or "irresponsible."  

look, there is not one single person in this household who has clothes that FIT, and none of us can afford to buy more clothing.  no, not even at the fucking thrift store.

there are so many people out there struggling.  generally speaking, the rich don't give a shit.  the compassionate among us are usually the ones in the same boat - living paycheck to paycheck, or falling behind, and unable to help others out.

i have no end to this.  i can't wrap it up.  i have no moral to this story.  it's just been on my mind, recently.  it always is. 

it's there when i try to fall asleep at night, and insomnia has a firm hold on my brain, which is busy worried about everything. 
there's no end in sight.

and we are being FUCKED.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

those annoying "celebrity has plastic surgery" websites... how wrong they can be...

i can prove it.
cuz tits look completely different, depending on what you're wearing.
and i'm gonna take a gamble and say an actress stuffed into a tiny dress and a push-up bra probably does have ridiculous cleavage, but it doesn't necessarily make it fake...

i took a bunch of pictures in the same shirt, just for shits & giggles, to prove my point.

me, sans bra.  see how much i love y'all? (ha, as if i haven't posted braless pictures before... i've just never announced the fact.)

regular bra. makes a difference, but not too much.

push-up bra! affects definitely more noticeable (especially when compared to the first photo).

why hello, corset! and boobs up to my chin.  some douchebag on a "plastic surgery alert" website would probably flag this picture, if they'd seen the difference from the first, to this one.  eh?

how the corset effect works under a shirt from one angle...

 and the affects are even MORE pronounced, from a different angle.  see, guys?
all this shit is subjective.

also i think i'm proving, somewhat inadvertently, that the right "foundation garments" can completely change your appearance.

 and i just threw this pic in, because i like it.  i think that's a "push-up bra" picture, but who the hell knows.

moral of the story? the next time you see someone claiming that some actress has gotten a boob job, keep this in mind: push-up bras are like miracles for boobs.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

one tequila, two tequila, three tequila...

today was yet ANOTHER of the infamous margarita dinners i have with my dad.  this time my brother and Anthony were along, and we decided to go to The Singing Oak.

The Singing Oak is fucking kick-ass.  here, watch ze video, that will give you a good idea of what it's like.

so, our drunken selves wanted to know if we could reach one of the lowest-hanging clangers on the biggest set of pipes...

first, we tried jumping.  not even.
THEN dad decided it would be a great idea to try to get one of us on his shoulders...
he completely failed with my brother, and then we decided to try with me...
he backed up against the tree, and i attempted.  take one.
he leaned forward suddenly, i accidentally kicked him in the head, and the next thing i knew i was flat on my back on some tree roots, staring up at the sky.  i just laughed my ass off, and lay there for a bit.  believe it or not, i was kinda comfy.  (see: drunk.)

have i mentioned at this point, that while my dad is tall, he is also only about 50-60 pounds heavier than me?  and 60?

but of course, our drunken selves were NOT about to give up that easily.  so we tried again. this time the shoulder mount actually worked, wonder of wonders!  we walked over to the clanger, and...
we were six (6!!! really??!?!) inches too short to reach the damn clanger.
so what did we do, instead?  say, give up?  decide to get more drinks?
ohhhhhh, no.  not us!

and that is how i found myself to be covered in grass, throwing my shoes at a tree.  which was my dad's idea.

we = special.

Friday, September 30, 2011


blame Tazer Warrior Princess.  if she hadn't done THIS, then this video might not exist.

i really, really love sporks.

Monday, September 26, 2011

i'm infecting you with this, just as i was infected.

well, in recent news, i have a new girlfriend.  she is quite adorable, but i don't know if i can post pictures yet. i'll let you know.  ^_^

my new girlfriend Sarah and i went drinking with my dad... and i found out something i REALLY wish i'd known before. the place where we go that serves the frozen margaritas that i love, for 2 for $5 at happy hour...
yeah. evidently, there's two shots in each frozen margarita. so 3 margaritas evidently = 6 shots of tequila. well, that explains why i came home totally plastered after 4 margaritas that one time.

this time, it was 3 margaritas.  and then we went to another bar.  i put 2 nice big glasses of wine on top of that...
suffice to say, there was definitely some drunk going on that night.

Sarah recently infected me with this song.

i can't get it out of my head to save my fucking life, and it's been a week.  so i'm sharing, because i love y'all so much.

somehow, on our incredibly drunken night,
"can't hug every cat"
turned into
"can't hug every Matt, but i can hug this Matt!"
which turned into
"can't fuck every Matt, but i can fuck this Matt!"

but you know what?

"i just had sex!"

Monday, September 19, 2011

i had waaayyyyy too much fun with this one.

somehow i managed to record all this without being laughed out of my living room. thankfully, everyone around here sleeps like the dead.

do you think there's rap classes out there that you can take? i think my problem is that i forget all the damn words...

record labels, feel free to pick me up any time!

Sunday, September 18, 2011

there's no excuse for us

i don't know if you can hear it in the background, but the hookah Anthony's smoking bubbles just like a bong.  but you may not hear that, over the ridiculous app's electronic bong-noise.


my house has been taken over! help, i'm being held hostage!

...by the clutter.

our little house seemed a bit small when only Matt and i were sharing it.
oh, how naive we were.

when you have a 2 bedroom house with four people living in it, things get wonky, quickly...

hope y'all enjoy the house tour. yeah, i know my house still looks like i'm a college student. (i swear, i do know how to decorate a house; hell, my dad's an antiques dealer.)
in my world, funny and weird always wins over tasteful.

i can't wait until we move to Austin. i will get a huge 4 - 5 bedroom house, if it kills me. with a garage, for all of the Matt's beer stuff & the photobooth business.

and for once, i am going to have a functional office!
of course, my idea of a functional office is a bit different.  i plan on covering all the walls with posters and ridiculous shit.  then i'm gonna dig out all my toys, and stick them EVERYWHERE. because there's no cure for writer's block better than playing with some stuffed animals, star wars figures, and barbies. duh.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

The Nooky Song

hmm. well, someone got laid!

i don't really need to add anything to this, huh???

my. life. ROCKS!

Saturday, September 3, 2011

while the others are evacuating, i've got my feet propped up while drinking my beer.

look, i know everyone's all nervous now, ever since Katrina.  and there's good reason to be, if/when another hurricane rolls through here.

but y'all, this is a tropical depression, jesus fuck!  seven years ago you would have been scoffing at it, just like every other fucking person on the gulf coast.  let's calm down a bit, shall we, NOLA?

the highway heading west is all backed up. seems like half the damn city's trying to leave... because of THIS:

ridiculous.  really, really ridiculous.

as an example, i contrast with this your average thunderstorm down here...

(at least watch until .45, to see/hear the lightning/thunder.)

my biggest problem in this tropical depression, storm, whatever?  i'm running out of beer.
quelle horreur!

Thursday, September 1, 2011

the duck fuck dance!!!

i... have no excuse for this.  well, except for the fact that it's 4:20something in the morning and we? are special, special people.  

Welcome To The Looney Bin!!!

now that we (me + Anthony + my brother + Matt) are all living here, you can probably expect shit like this from now on.

you're sooo welcome.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

i invaded Austin, and i like it!

i haz a vacation!  yes, i did.  and of course, because i am a photographer, i took a shitload of pictures.  and now i will torture you with them.
be jealous! Austin is fucking awesome.

the first thing we saw, upon coming into the city and parking, was this note on the parking meter.
we laughed, hard.

libraries are my paradise, so of course i drooled a little bit here.

i have no idea what the hell this building is, but it looks neat-o.


ooh, pretty!
in a few ways, Austin reminds me of Portland (hills, city separated by a river).  i'll be excited to move on in.  ^_^

this, my friends, is not a "majestic cactus," as i was told when i bought one.
in fact, it's an agave plant (which is a succulent, not a cactus, for the record), which is Really Fucking Cool.  they get HUGE.  i have seen one that was at least 10 feet tall, and probably that wide, too.
it wasn't in Austin, though; funnily enough it's in fairhope, alabama.

Austin is absolutely full of these agaves, and i LOVE it.  i have an agave, i'd say about 2 feet tall, and i CAN'T WAIT to get to my Austin house, and plant that motherfucker in the yard and let it grow into a monster.

does anyone know what kind of bird this is?  they were everywhere.

UPDATE: a minion left this comment for me:
"I'm no bird-expert, but I think that's a grackle. And a particularly ugly one at that."

how right you are... this one IS ugly!  
good to know, now i can refer to them as grackles instead of "you know... those blackish birds that aren't crows, ravens, or blackbirds..."

i love old architecture, and i also love the way the sunlight hit on the building.

of COURSE we had barbeque.  NOM NOM NOM NOMnomnomnom

the Matt's "DUH?" face, i guess.  don't ask me.

oh, he says it was the "i'm gonna ruin this picture!" face.
well, then.  there you go.

the other person there is my brother Logan, who is moving with us to Austin.  so, in other words, our house will be the fucking psych ward.  in the good way, of course.

 when i am fabulously wealthy & rolling in golden coins, i will SO light up my fucking house just like this.  it's the capitol building, and while it looks white here, it's really a light reddish color in the sunlight.

our hotel, complete with possessed psychrowave.  check it out:

psycho.  it also liked to beep every 5 seconds while heating your food, if you got it to finally work.  and then it would just beep randomly, for no good reason, about every five minutes or so.  we had to unplug the damn thing to keep from stabbing it.

i mentioned the psychrowave to one of the staff, and she told me that someone had died on the floor we were on, in the stairwell.
she agreed that if the psychrowave was not in fact possessed, it could potentially be haunted.  i agreed.
although why a ghost would want to haunt a microwave is completely beyond me.

haunted staircase.  at some point, there was a body lying there.  gasp!

we found this at the homebrew beer shop, of course.  

possibly the funniest damn thing i've seen in a long time.  drunkicorn!  unikeg-stand!  gettin' horny!  wasty-face! (which is what Matt calls me when i'm drunk;  he claims i was "wasty-face" last night, and i can't exactly disagree...)

RUBBER.  CHICKEN. PURSE.  whyyyyy do you not live in my closet???

i need one of these suckers.
so terrible, it's wonderful.  get on mah boobies!

i found the boot store, and it was  PARADISE!

i'm not a terribly southern person, i'm really not.
i do say y'all, and yeah, i have a bit of an accent.  a bit.  a teeny, tiny bit.  Shut.  Up.
i'm not your stereotypical southerner, that's for sure.
in fact, many southerners think i'm a Yankee.  i got called a yankee for all of middle & high school - evidently their criteria for being said yankee is coming from anywhere above alabama.

however, i AM from Kentucky.  and we have tons of horses.
i didn't own any, but i certainly did ride:  i went to horse camp every summer.
and do you know what you need, when riding horses?  boots.  and if you ride western style, and i do, you want - nay, need - cowboy boots.

DROOL.  but there is no way in hell i would buy these, because those suckers are $2,000 FUCKING DOLLARS.  ouch!
even if i could afford them, what's the point of a pair of cowboy boots you can't stomp through the mud in?

possibly the highest peak of hideousness: purple leopard-print cowboy boots.
What. The. Fuck.

these boots are for if your dick's too small, and you want to compensate for that very badly.

hint:  women can figure that shit out.  it's kinda like those jacked-up truck-driving Affliction and Ed Harvey-wearing dipshits.  it's like advertising that you're a douchecanoe asshat with a small dick.  they probably wear Axe, too.
that shit is migraine in a can.

it's actually handy that they advertise themselves so well, if you think about it.  it's the human version of colorful plumage that says "keep away!!! POISON!!!  DO NOT MATE!!!"

i have no idea what kind of critter this was, but now it's tacked to a bathroom door in a boot shop.

these were my favorites.  i would have smuggled them out of the store like a bandit if they were A: my size, and B: black instead of brown, because i own approximately one brown thing, and it's probably a t-shirt.

scavenger hunt!!!  item one:  cowboy riding a rabbit.

um... check!

this is Matt's "get the hell out of the damn mirror so i can close the door and piss in peace!" face.
this is me trying to stop laughing at him long enough to take the picture.  ^_^

on the way out of Austin, i noticed that everything, literally everything, is cowboy-themed.  yes, even the bridges.  gun railings!  Gun Railings!!!  so cool.

i can't WAIT to move there, and break out my Stetson.

howdy, darlin'.