Our Modern Day Plague

The other night I ordered a large pepperoni pizza. It was way past the average person’s weekday bedtime and definitely past the hour dietitians recommend eating anything. I was starving and wanted to eat that huge greasy pizza all alone while watching and crying to the Fellowship of the Ring. I had a Fat Kid pizza fantasy that I would eat that pizza so fast all the blood would rush to my head and I would pass out right on the couch. I wasn’t really ashamed until the delivery boy showed up at my door and I found myself pretending there were people in the kitchen there to help me consume this huge artery lubricating delight.

“Ha oh Pizza boy you didn’t seriously think I would or even could eat this whole pizza by myself?!” “Billy! Johnny! Fat Pete! Come on! Get out here and help me eat this pizza.” “They must be downstairs or in the backyard making pipe bombs.”

I’m on the swift path to corpulence, the Great and Final Plague of America. We’re feeding ourselves to death like those poor little ducks that make delicious foie gras. I bet my liver tastes yummy and would go well with Walnut Fig Brioche.



Thats me and Fat Pete.

Get Down Girl Go ‘Head Get Down

Sorry if I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but I spent my day off today waiting for my car to get a new chin and a face lift. I say that because I’m starting to feel like I’m married to some gold digger who is divorcing me and taking all my money. I thought me and the Dodger were in love and this was forever, but apparently The Dodger doesn’t feel the same way. It’s taking me for everything I own and leaving me high and dry with nothing. I guess nothing is forever. And I’m back on the market or I will be soon.

Confession

Our plumbing hasn’t been working this past week, which has made for some interesting situations. Last night around three in the morning in my state of delirium I needed to pee so badly it was making me sick. My car was trapped in front of Lacy’s so I couldn’t drive to a public restroom and I didn’t want to wake her up. So what’s a girl to do?! I figured the only logical thing was to pee in the backyard. I know you’re thinking I’m strange right now. It wouldn’t be so strange though if I was a boy or a dog. But because I’m a girl its socially frowned upon. So this morning while Lacy and her brother are on the roof fixing the plumbing (Lacy is Wonder Woman by the way) I confess to them both that I peed in the backyard. Lacy says “Confession, I peed in the shower last night.” Chelsi, our more normal roommate, drove to Smiths like a normal person and used a bathroom.

Brit and I....Twinseys!

I had a dream last night that I was walking around public places with holes in my underwear, only in my underwear! I wasn't insecure that I was only in my underwear, just that I would have holes in my underwear. I think this is telling. I should consult a dream doctor. Inadequacy seeps over into my dream life. Welcome to my world of insecurities and paralyzing self-doubt.

Kill The Clown

I’m on my way to work with my friend Garrit and naturally we are both starving. He eats about as much as I do. We weren’t sure if we were willing to gamble on family meal at work. The odds are about 1 in 10. So we decided to hit up the drive through, which is consistently greasy and delicious and fast- the American Dream. We both established that we were craving McDonalds chicken nuggets with sweet and sour sauce like pregnant women. Garrit, who is quite persuasive, convinces me that we both would be better off getting 20 pieces, each. The lady who takes our order can’t quite grasp that we want TWO twenty pieces. Finally she accepts it. We pull forward and the guy at the window looks at us and says, “it’s gonna be a while.” Garrit is like “Oh that’s fine.” The dude continues to stare at us awkwardly. Garrit gets uncomfortable and is like “do you want us to pull forward?” The guy sticks his head out of the window and is like, “Its forty chicken nuggets!”

Yes. I ate them all and two packs of sweet and sour. I don’t even want to go into the nutritional value of that. Or what parts of the chicken McDonalds uses for their nuggets or how much sugar is in one pack of sweet and sour. I just don’t even want to go into that. Well here’s the ihatemylife.com part of this whole story. Last night, I spent a good hour on the bathroom floor reeping the benefits of twenty chicken nuggets and two packs of sweet and sour.

Pirate Mechanics and Silver Garbage Cans

I spent all day bartering with some pirate mechanic to pass my worthless piece of tin off on its safety slash emissions test. This pirate mechanic was kind enough to pass the old Dodge Neon on emissions though it was smoking out of its tail end. Of course, I had to beg him. The things we do to survive in this cruel, heartless world. Apparently I can’t pass safety, something about loose bolts and engine mounts. Sounds kind of serious but since I don’t want to put another red cent into my blue Neon, I refuse to deal with it. I just pour a container of oil into my engine once a week and ignore the smells and smoke that trails my car and pollutes this big green and blue earth. I’d be better off riding around in a silver garbage can.

So for those of you generous souls who are feeling charitable and would want to donate to the United Keep the Air behind Ashleys Car Clean Fund I am accepting all forms of payment.

Moved the Couch to my Front Lawn

I love it when I think my court time is at 9 AM when really it’s at 10:45. Sitting in the court room for almost two hours I felt my class points dropping and my vocabulary worsening or getting more worserer..or whatever. It’s what happens when you spend too much time in settings like the court house or the DMV. I get such terrible anxiety in these two places. I’d rather spend my day at the dentist’s office or a public bathroom.

Too much time in environments such as these can seriously drop you down a few rungs on the social class ladder. You’ll start believing things like “Happiness is being a Grandfather” and have to fight the desire to apply colored eye liners. You start thinking places like Toledo, Ohio would be a good location to live or the State Fair is a cool place to hang. You’ll even crave food from gas stations. Thanks to a few hours at the court house I now own an IRON MAIDEN shirt with cut off sleeves.

Dear social class ladder fairy, please help me find a way to move back up a rung or two.



These are my new friends I met at the court house.

*For those of you curious as to why I went to court, I just had to prove I had insurance and after much anticipation the Judge found me….not guilty. Thanks your honor. But I'm still guilty of owning and re-filling my BIG GULP every morning at my local 711.

Ribbon Cutting Ceremony

For those of you who have had any sort of communication with me know that I often link the statement slash imaginary website “ihatemylife.com” after many stories slash rants. Stories such as I got my hand stuck in the garage door today, or I was on my death bed for four days with the bubonic plague, or Juice and Java stole my debit card…insert “ihatemylife.com.”

For so many of you this has been deceiving. Some of you have attempted typing in your blank URL space my make-believe website and were disappointed to find I was false advertising. But not anymore, I decided to make ihatemylife.com a reality. I am pretty confident that I will continue to have ihatemylife.com worthy stories to fill endless imaginary internet pages in magic web spaces.

To commemorate this special event me and fifteen random kilted people will cut the ribbon and offer a blood sacrifice and prayer for the new website (blog) ihatemylife.com.