Wednesday, December 28, 2011

My Obsession with Pandora Radio

Pandora Online Radio has ruined me. I have been listening to showtunes for two months now. I won’t listen to the regular radio anymore and I’m sure that I’m not up to date on the awful shit they call music these days. With the exception of Adele, of course. Maybe a few more artists. But if I hear anymore Rihanna or Taylor Swift, I will hurt someone. But the showtunes, I love. Oh, Mamma Mia, how did I live without you for so long, Wicked makes me smile and then there are the Disney songs. I just might be regressing back to my childhood but I don’t really give a shit. I heard the Doll in a Music Box from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and almost had a stoke. I seriously forgot about that movie. And then Mary Poppins, the Feed the Birds song was my number one favorite song when I was ten. I would sing it all the time. Also the Golden Oldies radio is fantastic. In my area we don’t have an oldies station anymore. Back when I would ride the school bus, our evil bus driver made us listen to the oldies. Now I love the oldies. And the Holiday music, I had the Holloween mix and then the Christmas mix. I’ve even considered paying the three dollars a month to upgrade my Pandora. You know what my dream job would be listening to new music all the time and picking out what songs to put in movies. That would be so awesome. I know it’s contradictory to what I just wrote about but I could at least weed out all the shit music.

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Bookcase of Death

As my birthday approaches, I am officially starting to feel my age sneaking up on me. I know I’m not old yet. I have a long way to go, but I feel my body starting to protest some of the things I do. I woke up this morning with a twinge in my neck. It’s not horrible, just annoying and I have learned my lesson. Don’t move a bookcase upstairs by yourself. Also get rid of some freaking books. I must have made about twenty trips up the stairs with boxes and boxes of my books. I looked trough them and there are some people have given me to read that I have never returned or read even. Another thing, I need a new bookcase. I got mine from Target for $40 and I’m fairly sure it will never survive another move. It's a POS. I’m not even sure it will last just sitting there in my room. I’m a little scared it will just fall apart and fall on my bed probably while I’m sleeping there. So anyway, my neck hurts, I’m scared my bookcase will kill me and I’m getting old. Mery Christmas and Happy New Year.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011


I’m having a particularly good boob day. Most days I hate my body, like most girls who have grown up our vain society. But for some reason (tight red sweater) I love my boobs today. I have large breasts. My mother gave them to me. In fifth grade, I was pulled aside and told I needed to wear a bra. It was humiliating at the time but now I’ve come to the conclusion that they aren’t so bad. I keep catching myself in the mirror today and I keep thinking "damn, those look nice." Ask me tomorrow and I’ll tell you I hate them. They are a huge pain in the ass and back, and neck, and shoulders. I’m not a skinny girl, I’d catagorize myself as plump. Pleasantly plump. Having large breasts make you look bigger. Also it’s the first area I gain weight and I have to tell you they do not make cute bras once you pass DD, and even worse I cannot find a bra for under $50. Victoria Secret even stops making bras at 40DD. To me it seems like they were just like Fuck it! Those girls don’t need cute bras, they have giant tits! Just for once in my life I’d like to go braless. I bet it’s so nice. I bet you can fit into clothes better too! I guess I’ll never know because even if I lose enough weight to actually be skinny, I’ll still have these two bowling balls attached to my sternum. Sometimes I forget they’re there and then I catch people (men) staring. Then I feel really embarrassed because I’m not a got it flaunt it type, I keep them covered and tucked away. But today I’m proud damn it!

Tuesday, December 13, 2011


When I was in high school, I worked at a burger joint. It wasn’t a big corporate chain. There were just two restaurants. It was a huge learning experience, I eventually I became the co-manager with Milly of all people. I’ve known Milly since third grade. We did not like each other when I started working at the burger joint. I met Annie in fourth grade. We didn’t become friends until junior year and she was actually the one to get me the job in the first place. Annie and Milly worked together for two months before I came along. They hated each other. So already enemies at work and ten years later a step away from being sisters. Life is so funny. Anywho, back on tack of what this post is really about. I worked at this place for four years. When I started, I worked the counter and had to make milkshakes. The metal cups that most milkshake machines have were long gone. We made the shakes right there in the cup. The thing about that was when you pulled the milkshake down it sprayed the front of your shirt and, if you were wearing a short-sleeved shirt, your arms. We made the milkshakes from real fruit and real chocolate sauce and real peanut butter. Everything was fine except the peanut butter. It started to sicken me. The smell, the feeling of it on my arms. Washing the spatula after closing made me gag. Soon, I started to actually do everything I could to avoid making a peanut butter shake. I would trade favors or chores so someone else would make them. My co-workers started to catch on to what was going on and I started to get teased for it. They would chase me around with a spoonful of peanut butter and it would drive me to tears. I had developed a phobia. I could still eat it though, that was the strangest part. As long as it didn’t touch my skin and I held my breath, it was delicious. I still can’t stand the smell of washing the peanut butter knife at home, I use plastic knives and throw them away. If it touches my skin, I still panic. I tried to look up if other people are like me but all I could find was a fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of the mouth. It’s called arachibutyrophobia. I don’t have it since I can eat it. I’m going to name it olfactoaraciphobia. Anyone else out there have it?

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Thanksgiving in Crazytown

I know I'm really late but I made my first Thansgiving dinner this year...

Here's my cooking blog that I never write on, Click here!

It's very interesting I swear (fingers crossed).

WTF happened to November?

Where did it go? December 6th already? It was just January! This is the one thing that really irritates me about aging. It's just seems to go faster and faster. I have been in a bit of a hole for about a month and now that I've come out of it alive and stronger, I have made a few decisions. After months of stressing about whether or not I'll have a job in the new year, I've come the to conclusion that I am officially going to stop stressing about it and just go with whatever happens. I can get a new job, I have the luxury of having family to fall back on if I have to. I’m a very lucky girl. I don't like the feeling of not having control of the situation but I can't always be in control. I just have to keep telling myself that. I can’t remember if I have blogged about any of this. So just a quick recap. My boss is retiring at the end of the year. He has sold the law firm to a new attorney. The new attorney is very worried about money. I (and he apparently) don’t know if he will be able to keep me on full time. I need a full time job. The end. All together I have had a feeling of not being wanted through this whole experience. It took a huge blow to my self esteem and made me evaluate my self worth. But now to hell with him. Or maybe not if he does want me and I’ve been reading the situation all wrong. I don’t know and I just don’t feel like caring anymore.