Lessons Learned & Some Rambling

Taco's are not a food group. Seriously. They are not. I want to know who the fuck sent out that memo, because I certainly didn't get it. Stupid healthy pyramid.

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When meeting friends for dinner, especially if one of these friends is having serious back problems, you probably shouldn't open with; "Wow, you look like shit." Thank you, captain obvious. I feel like shit too.

I'm just saying.

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Never ever ever ever ever (did I mention ever) buy couches that a tennis ball will fit under. Unless you don't have dogs who are so tennis ball crazed their eyes cross and their mouths foam at the thought of THAT BALL RIGHT THERE IS OUT OF REACH.

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If you are a male, straight waiter, please do not comment on my purse. And then tell me that you have been purse shopping. And then emphasize that it was not for you. Then walk away from the awkward silence because my eye starts uncomfortably switching.

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Don't wait until you are out of underwear to do laundry. YOU ARE AN ADULT. Not a frat boy. AN ADULT.

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Beer is a food group. I don't give a damn what that evil pyramid says.

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You cannot wear a jean jacket with a Celtic cross on it unless you are in some kind of goth band. Seriously. The pyramid forbids it.

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The pyramid may have just become my God. I will worship it for all of time. Unless it takes beer off the pyramid. Then I will smite the pyramid. (Or the pyramid will smite me. I am not entirely sure how smiting works.)

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This one time I went to visit my sister at college and we sat on her roof and threw stale doughnuts at the "alcohol free" religious party across the street. I am pretty sure if the whole smiting thing worked, I would have already been smote. (Is that a word? Writing about smiting is hard work.)

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When people say things like; "The devil you know is better than the devil you don't know," you should smite them. Or at least steal their wallet.

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Don't ever try to trump people on pain. Your shot in the face with buckshot could be their stubbed toe. It is all subjective. And by subjective, I mean my pain is the worst and the rest of you can suck it.

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I hate those reality shows where people get a bunch of money to make themselves look better, and then they tell the $7M per cut hair stylist how to cut their hair. You probably don't know. They probably do. You wouldn't tell the brain surgeon which lobe to amputate, would you? Right. Shut it and let them do their thing.

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There are dog people, cat people, and people who feel like they should like animals because it is the right thing to do. Those people, the "I own a dog because people will think I am less of an ass hole" people...stop owning pets. You hate them. They hate you. You are allowed to not like animals. You are not allowed to buy an animal and then BITCH CONSTANTLY about how the animal is SUCH AN ANIMAL. Well, duh. They eat poop. They throw up. They fart. They rub their butt on the carpet. They try to kill wild life. THEY ARE ANIMALS.

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My blog went live. Yes, I said live. Not public. Live. Because that is a work term. And the last few months have been QP. And now I am LIVE! I need a hobby...

Gotta run. That beer isn't going to drink itself.