Welcome to Hell

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

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

how not to injure yourself all the effing time - UPDATED UPDATE!

number one, first and foremost:  have good vision.  if your eyes don't see in 3-d so well... you're kinda fucked, and destined to hit yourself on everything - but most often, the coffee table.

number two:  don't take ballet.  no, seriously.  ballet may make you graceful on a stage, but it doesn't translate so well into real life.  every ballerina i've ever known who was well-trained experienced the same annoyance.  we called it the "ballerina's curse."
see, ballerinas are trained to never, ever, ever look at the floor.  eyes up and ahead, ladies!  up to the stage lights!  
when you get out into the real world, never looking at the ground is a fucking safety hazard.  that's the other reason i trip over shit and run into the coffee table.  consequently, i have constant unexplainable bruises.  they'll be huge and i won't even notice until Matt points them out.  then i don't know how they happened, because i run into shit all the damn time.

don't be fucking crazy! otherwise, random strangers will think it's totally cool to talk to you about your "problems" and touch your arms.  um, no. 
additionally, don't be an unmedicated bipolar teenager.  avoid that, too.

also, don't have terrible, terrible break-ups, and be fucking crazy simultaneously.
take the damn crazy pills!

don't need to have blood drawn, and then have to work immediately after at a strip club, where you use that same arm & elbow to swing around the pole.  otherwise, your bruises won't go away for a week.  yep.  aren't y'all glad i tried that out, so you don't have to?

don't work at a cowboy-themed bar, and back into someone wearing spurs.  really, don't.  those fuckers are sharp, and you will have a line of spur marks down your leg that are utterly impossible to explain.

don't accidentally step on a dog's paw.  or if you do, make sure that the dog in question isn't a vicious piece of shit biting mongrel who makes you bleed, and later, scar.  fucker.

don't get your foot stomped on, twice, probably very intentionally, by your piece of shit "boss" in above mentioned cowboy bar.  additionally, they really need to make steel-toed cowboy boots, pronto.

you should also probably avoid catching the longest nail you have on your clothing, and ripping that fucker off.  yeah.  definitely don't do that.

don't worry though, that's not blood.  it's iodine.  i don't need any fingernail infections.

i've been down that road once before.  i was a kid, and it got all infected and pus-y underneath my fingernail... well, that fingernail has never been the same since.  for the longest time it had this huge bump underneath it, but thankfully that went away sometime in high school.

don't try to dead-leg someone when he knows MMA, because he will jerk his knee up and whack the everloving shit out of that bone on your wrist.  because that shit will immediately start swelling.

of course, what makes it worse is that it's your fault, really.  and your wrist will hurt like fuck the next day, and be swollen and bruised.

do feel free to take it out on the bearer of the aforementioned knee.  because he's a masochist, and fond of pain.  do everything but draw blood.  doesn't that feel better, now?


of course, 30 minute later when his skin is like magic-healing, you'll be disappointed.  but still.  worth it!

in short?  don't be a klutz, don't be me, and uh, don't get drunk enough to fall down stairs in high heels.  i can tell you from experience that it's a reeeallly bad idea.

as though that whore, mother nature, had intended me to REALLY get my point across, i fell down my front steps today.

see, what had happened was...

our stairs are really slick when it's raining, which it has been doing all week, on and off.  i was wearing flip flops, and going outside to call the cat from our porch.
i take one step down, and next thing i know, i'm bouncing on my ass straight down the stairs, which are concrete.  at least i got stopped by the railing, otherwise i imagine i'd have gone all the way down.

so yeah.  these are the steps.

and this is the utterly massive bruising and swelling that my little adventure today got me.  and funny enough, i imagine it'll look even worse tomorrow, so i may post that too, if i feel so inclined.

my ass hurts.

so yeah.  in short?  how to NOT injure yourself all the fucking time, is evidently to NOT be me.
now you know!


i was right.  it is sooooo much worse this morning.  in fact, i took pictures of it all night as it got worse.  i was in disbelief.

see how excited i am, that it hurts like hell to sit on my ass?  note: sarcasm completely intended.

there's nothing quite like taking pictures of your bruised-up ass to post them on the internet.

so, this is today.  quite bright.  i imagine it'll be gone, oh i dunno, two weeks from now???

the injuries around here seem to be catching.  so now we're calling the Fuzzbutt Scarface, until further notice.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

picking up the pieces of the niiiight...

 oh, shit.  this isn't gonna be good.

jesus fuck, my head hurts.
is it really 8:30am?
fuck.  it is.
oh man, i must have been hammered last night.

check available evidence:  damnit.
i didn't mean to sleep in these pants, they're dirty.
is that a plate beside the bed?  yep.  sandwich crumbs.  i don't remember eating a sandwich.

okay, chug some iced tea.  it's gonna be okay, my pounding head, it's gonna be okay.
sooner or later.

shit, did i leave the groceries from last night in the car?  whew - no, they're on the kitchen counter.  shit, did i get the cold stuff from my friend's fridge last night at MNDC?  i don't remember doing that - but it's in my fridge, so i must have.  or maybe Matt did.  or maybe my brother.
goddamnit, i hate it when this happens!

why in motherfucking hell is half of my hair stuck together in one big mat?

did i post anything weirder than normal on twitter last night?  or funnier than normal?

hahahaha!  sweet.  i hope i was singing it all evening.

my sinuses are fucked.  hmm.  did i vomit last night?  no evidence of that.  toilet is clean... my throat doesn't feel sandpapered.  probably not.  in fact, that is most likely the problem.  i think i drank the equivalent of 8 shots of scotch last night.

okay.  more tea.  head, stop hurting so i can think about this!

i left candy everywhere.  huh?

deep breaths, you squashed it.  deeeep breaths.

i really do.

why does my wrist hurt like a motherfucker?

oh yeah.... NOW i remember.  hopefully he hurts more.

when in doubt about much of the previous night....
ask a witness.


why the hell was i so damn drunk?  that amount of scotch shouldn't put me under like that, i've drunk half a bottle and felt better...

oh.  right.  probably the fault of eating almost nothing yesterday.
well, it just happened.
yeah, it was fucking dumb.
what did i eat?
some chips... some shock tarts...
(and evidently, a sandwich)

is that ALL?

damnit.  this is my fault, isn't it.

i just contemplated drinking a leftover PBR someone left in my fridge.
i hate that shit.

i need to eat something. 

i tried to eat something.  my stomach just flipped me off. 

kill me now!

Sunday, July 24, 2011


worked a gig tonight, at a crazy-ass venue! 

believe it or not... we're indoors.

even the ceiling was painted with clouds.

the stars even sparkled.  it was surreal.  if i didn't know i was inside, i would have thought it was outside for a while.

of course, the air conditioning gave it away.

the trees were awesome.  not only did they look life-like, but they were sturdy - so sturdy, in fact, that you could climb on them.

so that's how i spent my night - trying to figure out how they made an indoor space look so damn cool.

that, and deciding that the Matt and i should get similar tattoos - his would be a sperm with a circle and bar (with the word "sterilized" underneath), and mine would be an egg & sperm with a circle and bar.  i said we should put them right over our respective bushes.  that way we'd be VERY upfront about it...
(we really, really don't ever want to have kids.  we both plan on getting sterilized.)

this decided, after i got sick of the kids running around the place like little terrors.  see, there are nice kids, and there are kids that should be put on leashes.
just saying.

of course i had to get in these.

i'm queen, bitches!  Queen of Hell, that is.

now this is a place worth throwing a party.  wealthy folks, listen up!  we all need to have a pre-Hell party here.  hey, the food is good.
plus you can imagine you're wondering around a plantation, without needing to step into the muggy 89 degree night weather.  it's a win-win.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

i tried really, really hard to kill Harry Potter, but that dude is impossible to kill!


my fellow nerds and i headed out Thursday night, to stand in line for two hours, before the HP premiere, so as to get non-sucky seats.  so, while we were standing there, fiddling with our dueling wands, i got bored, and decided to go kill some Harrys.  after all, they wouldn't miss a few - right?

SuperHarry didn't put up much of a fight, actually.

Luna, being appropriately spacey.

this Harry seemed strangely excited that i wanted to kill her.

at least this Harry was appropriately terrified.

Voldemort and i teamed up on Hermione.

this Harry seemed so, so confused.  poor thing.  his brain was addled by my spells, no doubt.

and then i tried to kill Luna...

 Tonks and i dueled.  i'm not sure if i killed her, but i know someone did!

i'm still trying to get all of that ton-tongue toffee out of my teeth.