Who's the boss? Vagina.

Ever since my Toast to Rockstar, I have noticed some new faces around here. Well, more hits on my blog anyway. While I somewhat track that shit, I rarely take the time to see if it is just a few of you getting bored and going through archives or actual new followers. But, I checked. New people! Hi new people. Welcome. I am obnoxious. You have been warned. 

Josey, your awesomeness is just oozing it's way over here.

Just a few random updates. I pre-scheduled the wordless week, so that is just sort of mixing in with my regular old blog posts because, well, I can't feel my finger. Makes typing really easy. Kill the nerve endings and it doesn't hurt to type anymore. Yay? Probably not. I also can't bend it anymore, making me think I may have damaged a tendon. Yay? None of this is good news. I have a giant life lesson for all of you - don't do anything I do ever. EVER. It will only end poorly and with mutilated body parts. You should see the burn scars on my arms. Dear. Lord.

I met another accident prone chef the other day and we were exchanging horror stories. In his 10 year career he has done way more damage than me. Which, you know, hope for the future! Less appendages! More scars! I can't wait. Art is worth it, right? I think so.

There was some marathon today. I didn't run in it. Or walk in it. Or even pretend that I would ever do either of these things. Instead I made stock, homemade granola, hung out with Tini, and drank some wine. This is how I exercise. I should write a diet book.

Tini wore a shirt I made him, which is an all around hilarious story. We were on the phone one day and he was telling me about this woman at the deli he frequents and how she tells him grossly inappropriate things about her. One time the conversation led to her vagina. I don't remember the exact statement she made, but I said, "I mean, what does she think, hey, this guy is gay, I should tell him about my vagina." 

To which Tini responded, "THAT HAS TO BE A T-SHIRT."

Naturally, I made it into one. The shirt is powder blue with a rainbow that covers his chest. Underneath the rainbow, it says "I'm gay. Tell me about your vagina." Tini has worn this shirt around me several times and I have never noticed until today. That shirt is awesome. So, I drug him with me to the grocery store wearing this shirt and most people paid no notice. Except one woman who started laughing hysterically and said "I love your shirt." Tini then declared the woman his new best friend. Of course he did. Oh, to bring joy to random strangers with our inappropriate sense of humor. It's kind of our thing.

I am feeling restless without a second job, only working about 40 hours a week. It feels weird. I don't like the free time. I want to be working. So, tomorrow I am going to amp up the job hunt. There is a local smokehouse/brewery that is hiring. I would kill to work there. Seriously. I absolutely love their food, love their beer. I don't see how this could not work out perfectly for me. Let's hope I can pick up about 20 hours a week there. And not damage any more appendages in the process.

The boy got the new iPhone on Friday because, you know, fanboy. There is a program on the new OS called Siri that is sort of like a voice activated google. You can ask it anything, like where to dispose of a dead body, and it gives you an answer. He was trying to get Siri used to certain commands...telling it I was his girlfriend, who his mom was, etc. He asked the phone who his boss was, expecting to have to input data into the phone to tell it. Nope. It came right up with all my contact information. 

It's official...the machines are taking over.