So, I started this in June intending for it to be my creative comedic outlet of all the random ridiculousness that runs thru my blonde head 24/7. So far, I have failed. Miserably. I have good excuses tho!! Been to the ER twice, had approximately 3 bouts of food poisoning and a migraine since July. Yay!!
First ER trip was due to the incision from my last surgery opening up and causing all of my internal organs(including my blood) to become infected. Yay!!!
Second ER trip was just the other day due to fainting from food poisoning. Apparently when your body tells you to put the fucking milk down and sit, you really should put the fucking milk down and sit. NOT try to put it back in the fridge. Because you will lose consciousness and fall down and hurt your arm and hit your head. In that order. But then hot firemen will come into your apartment and fawn over you and ask you where it hurts and not laugh when they ask you your full name and you say "Seriously?" because they don't understand that you have approximately 6 names and rattling them off like that isn't as easy as they think. Then you explain and they look at you like you're a madwoman. Unless they were in the first place and you just didn't realize til then. Meanwhile they're putting stickers all over your chest and you're like "Hi! I'm married!" and they're like ".... we are too. This is an EKG..." So then they think you seriously hit your head and load you into the back of the meat wagon and on with the show. But I digress....
I've been a little busy. And my vision is going. Damn migraines.... At least they're gonna give me free Botox to try and fix it!! Only 31 injection sites across your face, skull and neck. I'm gonna get my hair cut with Bettie Page bangs again. Eff that. I like my forehead wrinkles. They're a part of me!!! I don't wanna look like Debbie Harry!!
So anyway, I'll try to be a little more active here, not that anyone in particular really follows this, at least that I know of. Hey!! If you're stalking me, be polite and leave a comment. Thank you :)
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Proof That My Dog is Half Mogwai
- If you feed him after midnight, he will growl for no reason
- If you get him near water, his teeth multiply
- He hates bright light (as depicted to the right)
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Do Not Read This If You Want Funny (probably)
I've been a serious slacker with my bloggerness. There's been a lot going on. Mostly I need to get some things off my chest. Do you have *ANY* idea how effing hard it is being an Army wife? My god! Every day is an uphill battle. Sometimes I miss him so much I can barely breathe. I always swore that I would never ever marry into the military for this very reason. Actually, I swore I'd never get married. Yeah, that worked well...
Yes, I get to talk to him every day. Conversations are usually this: "I miss you soooooo much. I wish you were home" "I can't wait to be home. I miss you" Its great to be missed and all, but I'd rather not be missed. I'd rather have a normal marriage. I want a honeymoon. I want my husband. I really want my husband. Then they extend his deployment...
I am so very proud of him, serving our country, putting up with our government, working in a godforsaken sandbox. But being proud and missing him doesn't bring him here. I have the most amazing husband a girl could ever ask for. He loves me with all his heart, he listens, he cares, he's supportive, he's always sending me sweet little surprises, he's everything I could ever want him to be. Except its almost like being married to a ghost.
So I try to keep busy. I make little crafty things and try to be positive. I *finally* started doing something with my etsy shop, which is here. Anyone with graphic design skillz is welcome to help :) I take care of little Samuel, the demon beagle
;;;;;;;p[']\ <---- Speak of the devil that likes to step on the keyboard then chew my fingers :)
Overall, I've been busy. And my witty sarcasm has been all used up from trying to hide my insanity. :) Hi, my name is LeighAnn Brookshire, I'm an alcoholic, I have a disease and they don't know what to call it.
Thus ends my unfunny rant. But really, I kinda tried. A little. Inside.
Yes, I get to talk to him every day. Conversations are usually this: "I miss you soooooo much. I wish you were home" "I can't wait to be home. I miss you" Its great to be missed and all, but I'd rather not be missed. I'd rather have a normal marriage. I want a honeymoon. I want my husband. I really want my husband. Then they extend his deployment...
I am so very proud of him, serving our country, putting up with our government, working in a godforsaken sandbox. But being proud and missing him doesn't bring him here. I have the most amazing husband a girl could ever ask for. He loves me with all his heart, he listens, he cares, he's supportive, he's always sending me sweet little surprises, he's everything I could ever want him to be. Except its almost like being married to a ghost.
So I try to keep busy. I make little crafty things and try to be positive. I *finally* started doing something with my etsy shop, which is here. Anyone with graphic design skillz is welcome to help :) I take care of little Samuel, the demon beagle
;;;;;;;p[']\ <---- Speak of the devil that likes to step on the keyboard then chew my fingers :)Overall, I've been busy. And my witty sarcasm has been all used up from trying to hide my insanity. :) Hi, my name is LeighAnn Brookshire, I'm an alcoholic, I have a disease and they don't know what to call it.
Thus ends my unfunny rant. But really, I kinda tried. A little. Inside.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Anxiety 101 (Or Why I Should Never be Left Unsupervised)
Anxiety is a debilitating disease. Its irrational and dysfunctional and takes pieces of you away from yourself. Some people deal with it their whole lives. With others, like me, its a symptom of another illness.
Today has been a day of cleaning and maniacal laughter. Basically, anxiety turns me into supertweaker without the use of illegal drugs!! Just the fun ones my doctor gives me. If it wasn't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all ... (this is what happens when I get my supertweaker powers and blog while listening to Motley Crue)
Anyway, I completely dismantled my stove and sanitized it. Cleaned all of my counters, washed all of my dishes, baked a cake, decorated said cake with Winnie the Pooh sprinkles, read way too many classic movie star bios (my husband will be SO excited!!) and taught my beagle how to dance. (Note: Sammy loves to dance however he does not especially appreciate being dipped) Had a date with a friend but he forgot but its ok because now he owes me a super awesome double banana split. Which I definitely plan on collecting in the very near future. As long as he doesn't forget... I'll just get one myself and send him the bill. The he gets double screwed cuz not only did he miss out on my company and a delicious banana split but he also has to pay for it. That's what you get for ditching me, Cameron. :p
Sooooooo back to the main point, (can you go back to a main point after banana splits?) At any rate, banana splits are awesome, anxiety is not. My shrink once said "What's so bad about anxiety? Is anxiety going to kill you? Is the world going to end because you're having a panic attack?" Fuck you head shrinker. And fuck you blogger for telling me "shrinker" is not a word. Cuz it is if I say so. Why does he have to make everything sound so logical? Its like he gets paid to make sense! And now I really want a banana split. Its all your fault Cameron. Do they deliver banana splits? If not they totally should. I would be their best customer.
So all day I've been concentrating my supertweakeranxiety powers on being productive and now its backfiring. I still have far too much energy and since I did such a good job cleaning earlier I have jack shit to do. Except blog about banana splits and anxiety. And its about 80 degrees outside and I have a 23 pound lap warmer because Samuel L Jackson has a cold and like most children he wants to be all sweet and cuddly and kick my laptop off my lap and demand affection. He needs more drugs....Now blogger is trying to tell me "demand" isn't a word either. Wtf blogger? Are you mentally challenged? Or do you need to take your meds too? Except the second time I wrote it it didn't get all highlighty but it did with "time". And yes I know highlighty isn't a word. Kick rocks, spell check. Who needs you anyway? YOU'RE GIVING ME ANXIETY!!!
I think now would be a good time to start up my Marilyn Marathon. How can you have anxiety while watching someone as sweet and brilliant as Marilyn Monroe? Oh, wait, I know!!! Half of her freakin characters have some sort of disorder. Fuck. I'm really not sure how to end this but I need to because I'm having an identity/anxiety/wtf crisis.
Especially since I opened Google yesterday and the first thing that popped up was "You're name is Galloping Gertie! How many furlongs are you?" WTF????? I have furlongs? Wtf is a furlong anyway? Thanks, Google. Identity crisis magnified. Your mission is accomplished.Today has been a day of cleaning and maniacal laughter. Basically, anxiety turns me into supertweaker without the use of illegal drugs!! Just the fun ones my doctor gives me. If it wasn't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all ... (this is what happens when I get my supertweaker powers and blog while listening to Motley Crue)
Anyway, I completely dismantled my stove and sanitized it. Cleaned all of my counters, washed all of my dishes, baked a cake, decorated said cake with Winnie the Pooh sprinkles, read way too many classic movie star bios (my husband will be SO excited!!) and taught my beagle how to dance. (Note: Sammy loves to dance however he does not especially appreciate being dipped) Had a date with a friend but he forgot but its ok because now he owes me a super awesome double banana split. Which I definitely plan on collecting in the very near future. As long as he doesn't forget... I'll just get one myself and send him the bill. The he gets double screwed cuz not only did he miss out on my company and a delicious banana split but he also has to pay for it. That's what you get for ditching me, Cameron. :p
Sooooooo back to the main point, (can you go back to a main point after banana splits?) At any rate, banana splits are awesome, anxiety is not. My shrink once said "What's so bad about anxiety? Is anxiety going to kill you? Is the world going to end because you're having a panic attack?" Fuck you head shrinker. And fuck you blogger for telling me "shrinker" is not a word. Cuz it is if I say so. Why does he have to make everything sound so logical? Its like he gets paid to make sense! And now I really want a banana split. Its all your fault Cameron. Do they deliver banana splits? If not they totally should. I would be their best customer.
So all day I've been concentrating my supertweakeranxiety powers on being productive and now its backfiring. I still have far too much energy and since I did such a good job cleaning earlier I have jack shit to do. Except blog about banana splits and anxiety. And its about 80 degrees outside and I have a 23 pound lap warmer because Samuel L Jackson has a cold and like most children he wants to be all sweet and cuddly and kick my laptop off my lap and demand affection. He needs more drugs....Now blogger is trying to tell me "demand" isn't a word either. Wtf blogger? Are you mentally challenged? Or do you need to take your meds too? Except the second time I wrote it it didn't get all highlighty but it did with "time". And yes I know highlighty isn't a word. Kick rocks, spell check. Who needs you anyway? YOU'RE GIVING ME ANXIETY!!!
I think now would be a good time to start up my Marilyn Marathon. How can you have anxiety while watching someone as sweet and brilliant as Marilyn Monroe? Oh, wait, I know!!! Half of her freakin characters have some sort of disorder. Fuck. I'm really not sure how to end this but I need to because I'm having an identity/anxiety/wtf crisis.
Love, Galloping Gertie
Saturday, June 25, 2011
The Hubby (Or: How I Got Tricked Into Getting Married)
I love my husband. Really, I do. No, really!
This is how he tricked me into marrying him while he was deployed. (I know right? Its a fucking accomplishment!)
Me: So when you get back can I move to Hawaii with you?
The Hubby: Sure.
Me: So...... wanna get hitched?
The Hubby: Hell yes. I'll even pay for an apartment for you in the meantime so you don't have to live in your parents basement anymore!
Me: Awesome!
The Hubby: And you don't have to work ever again!
Me: WTF?!?!
I'm a workaholic. Seriously. Before my shrink told me I should probably take a disability leave before I spontaneously combusted all I ever did was work. Even on my days off cuz those assholes don't know anything even tho I try to teach them they still call me and say "Oh mighty Parts Queen!!! Where can I find the blinker fluid?" (I'm seriously only exaggerating a little bit. They mostly call me "mom" or "Parts Master") Oh yeah, BTW I'm a seriously underpaid parts manager for a multi billion dollar auto parts store. I won't say which one. Because, sadly, I still love them. But, I digress...
Me: Seriously, just.... Stop working? Is that possible? And get married?
My Shrink: Yes. And a very good idea. And tell me exactly why you didn't take him up on this 2 years ago?
Me: Didn't you get the memo? I'm retarded.
Shrink: Oh, right....
So then The Hubby finally comes home on leave. No, wait. Scratch that. Then I tell him he should probably discuss this with his parents. Cuz, you know, they kinda raised him. And he was like "Nah, we'll tell them after" and I'm like "Um, dude. Not cool." But his mom figured it out anyway cuz she's super evil genius and I love her. She's like "So you're coming home on leave but not really coming home, you're going to Vegas? Are you getting married?" Way to go not telling them, tough guy. So then I get to meet her. Without him. Except I kinda met her once before, like 2 years ago. I think. So it was like "Hi! I met you once 2 years ago but I doubt you remember cuz I sure as hell don't! Anyway, we're getting married yay!!" And this is all because she has this fabulous idea to get my dress custom made (not even being sarcastic. This is the AWESOMEST dress EVER!! Seriously, who gets married in zebra print? I do!) So I (re)meet his parents and they're the super nicest people ever and his sister is my bestest friend I continue having discussions with my shrink cuz this is a lot to handle and
Finally The Hubby comes home. For 2 weeks. Then leaves again. Oh, but he gave me the most beautiful engagement ring **EVER**. Then he left. Oh, and we got married somewhere in the middle. Then he left.
So anyway, I'm on disability leave because I try to kill myself working. Apparently its entirely possible. Especially if you're me. I'm "fragile". Whatever. I'm just not afraid to get my hands dirty. And I'm totally going back as soon as the doc says I can. Don't tell my husband.
And I totally made my poor husband sound like a personality-less whore, and I didn't mean to. I was severely paraphrasing. If you read this DO NOT get mad at me. It all in the name of art. I took "artistic license". You love me. Lots.
I need a chupacabra foot. For scientific purposes......
Oh! Almost forgot!
The Hubby: And we can adopt a really cute beagle that is like the poster child for all adorable beagles
Me: Can we name him Eddie Van Halen?
The Hubby: No, but you have my permission to sleep with Eddie Van Halen.
Me: Fine. Can we name him Sammy Hagar?
The Hubby: Yes.
And that is how we became the parents of the sweetest cutest dog EVER. But we adopted him after we got married, so he's not a bastard or anything.
This is how he tricked me into marrying him while he was deployed. (I know right? Its a fucking accomplishment!)
Me: So when you get back can I move to Hawaii with you?
The Hubby: Sure.
Me: So...... wanna get hitched?
The Hubby: Hell yes. I'll even pay for an apartment for you in the meantime so you don't have to live in your parents basement anymore!
Me: Awesome!
The Hubby: And you don't have to work ever again!
Me: WTF?!?!
I'm a workaholic. Seriously. Before my shrink told me I should probably take a disability leave before I spontaneously combusted all I ever did was work. Even on my days off cuz those assholes don't know anything even tho I try to teach them they still call me and say "Oh mighty Parts Queen!!! Where can I find the blinker fluid?" (I'm seriously only exaggerating a little bit. They mostly call me "mom" or "Parts Master") Oh yeah, BTW I'm a seriously underpaid parts manager for a multi billion dollar auto parts store. I won't say which one. Because, sadly, I still love them. But, I digress...
Me: Seriously, just.... Stop working? Is that possible? And get married?
My Shrink: Yes. And a very good idea. And tell me exactly why you didn't take him up on this 2 years ago?
Me: Didn't you get the memo? I'm retarded.
Shrink: Oh, right....
So then The Hubby finally comes home on leave. No, wait. Scratch that. Then I tell him he should probably discuss this with his parents. Cuz, you know, they kinda raised him. And he was like "Nah, we'll tell them after" and I'm like "Um, dude. Not cool." But his mom figured it out anyway cuz she's super evil genius and I love her. She's like "So you're coming home on leave but not really coming home, you're going to Vegas? Are you getting married?" Way to go not telling them, tough guy. So then I get to meet her. Without him. Except I kinda met her once before, like 2 years ago. I think. So it was like "Hi! I met you once 2 years ago but I doubt you remember cuz I sure as hell don't! Anyway, we're getting married yay!!" And this is all because she has this fabulous idea to get my dress custom made (not even being sarcastic. This is the AWESOMEST dress EVER!! Seriously, who gets married in zebra print? I do!) So I (re)meet his parents and they're the super nicest people ever and his sister is my bestest friend I continue having discussions with my shrink cuz this is a lot to handle and
Finally The Hubby comes home. For 2 weeks. Then leaves again. Oh, but he gave me the most beautiful engagement ring **EVER**. Then he left. Oh, and we got married somewhere in the middle. Then he left.
So anyway, I'm on disability leave because I try to kill myself working. Apparently its entirely possible. Especially if you're me. I'm "fragile". Whatever. I'm just not afraid to get my hands dirty. And I'm totally going back as soon as the doc says I can. Don't tell my husband.
And I totally made my poor husband sound like a personality-less whore, and I didn't mean to. I was severely paraphrasing. If you read this DO NOT get mad at me. It all in the name of art. I took "artistic license". You love me. Lots.
I need a chupacabra foot. For scientific purposes......
Oh! Almost forgot!
The Hubby: And we can adopt a really cute beagle that is like the poster child for all adorable beagles
Me: Can we name him Eddie Van Halen?
The Hubby: No, but you have my permission to sleep with Eddie Van Halen.
Me: Fine. Can we name him Sammy Hagar?
The Hubby: Yes.
And that is how we became the parents of the sweetest cutest dog EVER. But we adopted him after we got married, so he's not a bastard or anything.
I Think I'm Funny
So, today I got this bug up my ass to start a blog. I've always wanted to blog but my mom kinda internet stalks me then yells at me because "people read that stuff!!!" Whatever. I'm a grown ass woman. Kinda. Anyway, I decide that I'm gonna do it. And I can just picture the face my husband will make when I tell him...
Anyway, now I have this blog thingie because I had a hilarious conversation with my husband this morning and realized this kind of hilarious shit goes thru my head all day. It would be a disgrace to humanity if I kept it all to myself. The Hubby would probably disagree with me but since he's overseas I can do whatever I want :p. Ok, not really. But he'll probably never take the time to actually sit and read it anyway so it doesn't matter. Right? Plus I'm currently not working and I don't have a lot of better things to do with my time. I'm a big girl. Shut up. I should probably explain what this hilarious conversation was even tho it makes me look like that one beauty pageant chick that needs a map. Apparently so do I.
Me: If you ever succeed in making me move to Alaska can I have a penguin?
The Hubby: Sure. The polar bears might try to eat it tho
Me: Yeah, there's no polar bears in Alaska. (Yeah, that's how much of a genius I am. Even sadder is I've been thru school to learn about animals and am a huge rights activist)
I forget what he actually said at that point but it was something along the lines of "How much black-tar heroin did you have for breakfast?"
Me: They live in the South Pole with the penguins!!!!
The Hubby: Penguins don't live in the South Pole either
Me: WTF??????
Turns out, polar bears and penguins live in the North Pole. Dude! Polar bears and penguins live with SANTA????? Holy shit!!
Also, he apparently doesn't think toucans and penguins look anything alike. They're both birds!! Black and white birds!!! With huge bodies and tiny little heads!!! I would include pictures to help support my statement but I can't figure out how to get them in proper sequence on this fascist website so just use your imagination. At any rate, I'm right. I don't care if one is an arctic bird and the other is a tropical bird. Shut up. Anyway I'm gonna go make pancakes for dinner. Because they're delicious and I can. I swear I'm a big girl.
**UPDATE**
So apparently The Hubby did read the blog and pointed out some errors.
Error #1: Penguins do not live in the North Pole with polar bears and Santa. And he apparently never said they did(whatever) They live in the South Pole and New Zealand.
Error #2: I am the idiot. He is not. I apparently inadvertently made him look idiotic by association. I'm sorry (Ok, not really. He knew what he was getting into when he married me) Which brings us to-
Error #3: He married me. On purpose. Knowing full well what kind of jackass I am. So there.
Anyway, now I have this blog thingie because I had a hilarious conversation with my husband this morning and realized this kind of hilarious shit goes thru my head all day. It would be a disgrace to humanity if I kept it all to myself. The Hubby would probably disagree with me but since he's overseas I can do whatever I want :p. Ok, not really. But he'll probably never take the time to actually sit and read it anyway so it doesn't matter. Right? Plus I'm currently not working and I don't have a lot of better things to do with my time. I'm a big girl. Shut up. I should probably explain what this hilarious conversation was even tho it makes me look like that one beauty pageant chick that needs a map. Apparently so do I.
Me: If you ever succeed in making me move to Alaska can I have a penguin?
The Hubby: Sure. The polar bears might try to eat it tho
Me: Yeah, there's no polar bears in Alaska. (Yeah, that's how much of a genius I am. Even sadder is I've been thru school to learn about animals and am a huge rights activist)
I forget what he actually said at that point but it was something along the lines of "How much black-tar heroin did you have for breakfast?"
Me: They live in the South Pole with the penguins!!!!
The Hubby: Penguins don't live in the South Pole either
Me: WTF??????
Turns out, polar bears and penguins live in the North Pole. Dude! Polar bears and penguins live with SANTA????? Holy shit!!
Also, he apparently doesn't think toucans and penguins look anything alike. They're both birds!! Black and white birds!!! With huge bodies and tiny little heads!!! I would include pictures to help support my statement but I can't figure out how to get them in proper sequence on this fascist website so just use your imagination. At any rate, I'm right. I don't care if one is an arctic bird and the other is a tropical bird. Shut up. Anyway I'm gonna go make pancakes for dinner. Because they're delicious and I can. I swear I'm a big girl.
**UPDATE**
So apparently The Hubby did read the blog and pointed out some errors.
Error #1: Penguins do not live in the North Pole with polar bears and Santa. And he apparently never said they did(whatever) They live in the South Pole and New Zealand.
Error #2: I am the idiot. He is not. I apparently inadvertently made him look idiotic by association. I'm sorry (Ok, not really. He knew what he was getting into when he married me) Which brings us to-
Error #3: He married me. On purpose. Knowing full well what kind of jackass I am. So there.
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