Wednesday, June 26

it's raining men. well just one man. but also dogs.

i'm just going to ignore the elephant in the room that is this new look that you're staring at.
i loved my old design but lately i've been in the mood to be naked more and that feeling has extended itself to my blog as well.  so here we are.  naked-ish.

so basically i've done nothing blog-related since this post.
and like the past forty-seven times i've logged in i've just gotten really angry at the cursor because i feel like it's flashing at me and shouting things like "you're a loser" and "you write like shit" and maybe also "just close this screen and go back to that loser life you lead of watching unhealthy amounts of pretty little liars."

so i've decided today that i'm going to officially introduce you to the three men in my life.

first and foremost is the love of my life.
the apple to my pie.  the ying to my yang.  the lamb to my tuna fish.

this guy.

it's Murphy Lee Lincoln (yes he's named for the rapper much to someone's chagrin).
murphy lee is the type of dog that just gets you.
he's calm(ish).  he typically hangs out under the stairs and will wander onto the porch to help himself to treats.  i can appreciate this because then i don't have to get up from the couch, pause pretty little liars, and like be not a piece of shit.  sometimes he pees in the bath tub.  which - thanks, i guess?

he loves stylish sweaters and winter hats.

and he was a drunk before being a drunk was cool.

the second man in my life needs no introduction as he dominates ginstagram and the rest of my existence with his ridiculousness.  it's none other than McElhenney McCrae Lincoln (live and in the motherfucking house).  or mac for short.  yes that is his name and yes it's on his birth certificate.  i think my favorite thing ever about that psycho is that when i saw a picture of him from the breeder i HAD TO FUCKING HAVE HIM.  i mean.i.die.forthatface.

he was the easiest decision i have ever made in my life.  like i could not hand the money over fast enough on that doggy deposit because he needed to be mine so i could puppy squish him.  the day we took him home from the breeder is the day we found out a couple things about the little nugget that should have been immediate red flags.

first red flag: they called him alejandro ponce deleon.  while the other puppies had nicknames like tess or bandit the puppy i had picked out was referred to with the most ridiculous name i had ever heard.
and why?  because, to put it nicely by the breeder, he had the biggest personality.

second red flag: the breeder said that their favorite thing that alejandro ponce deleon did was get into the brown paper bags in their pantry and then come bounding out with one on his head until he eventually slammed into a cabinet.  in retrospect - it explains a lot.

so really - that adorable face i fell in love with turned out to actually be more like this:
his puppy-hood was insanity. he got into everything and honestly just was the weirdest thing we'd ever encountered.  he sat weird, he sat on chairs, he got into cabinet drawers and rustled around like some sort of possum, and it took an eternity to get him potty-trained.

he's a nudger.  as in "hey ma - let me cram my face into your hand to demonstrate that i'd really like you to pet me right fucking now."  he's crazy obsessed with me.  like will wait on the stairs for me until i get home, sleep on top of me, and at the very least needs to be touching me at all times.
murphy lee probably thought it was one giant joke the day we brought him home.
but i think they're cool now.  bros before hoes and all that.

lastly and least importantly (i kid) is my non-canine roommate.
you know may know him as shitler around these blog parts but he also goes by tom lincoln (shout out to the island fans and the scene where they're all "NO I'M TOM LINCOLN!"), tommy, tom, lincoln, tlinks, douche, fucker, ass hat, dickwad, pussycat, etc.

we've been together since the dawn of time.  case and point this picture:
just a couple of baby-faced fucks.
technically we met on the swing-set but that's a story for another time.
the first gift i ever gave him was nelly's album "country grammar" because i was a fifteen-year-old thug and he would pick me up from my sweet job at hallmark cards in his blue sundance and we'd go sit awkwardly in my family room because my dad liked to make it a point to walk in every five minutes to "tell us something."  now our days are filled with sending each other verbally abusive text messages and semi-ignoring each other when we're in the same room.
and also drinking together.  and also me licking his face a lot.

he's the second most special thing in my life.  
and i don't mean special in the "awwww that's cute!" way but in the mac-type-special way.
i like him mainly because when his hair gets unruly he looks like charles manson.

and he's also super good at costumes.

besides mutual love we're also really good at putting up with each other's bullshit which is what i'm pretty sure will get anyone a successful relationship.
also sometimes i walk into a room and i get really scared and then i'm all "i'll never leave, i swear."

so that's that.
the three men in my life.

if you want any of them just leave me a comment specifying which one and i'll be sure to poke holes in a box and ship them out right quick.
first come, first serve though.
post signature

Thursday, June 20

this is me twerking. i think.

PSYCH. no twerk video. 
just an attempt to prey on the fact that everyone is all riles about miles and her twerk videos and lure you in. 

like everyone else on the planet i have the potential to turn into a raging bitch.
and on a regular basis for that matter (ask shitler since he often tells me i'm the meanest person he knows).
which, when i think about it, happens to make me semi-unfit to be a part of the blog world (which p.s. typing that just made me throw up in mouth).
mainly because the blog world is chock full of goddamn inspirational shit that reads "choose joy" or "be your best self" whereas in reality i'm all "no. leave me alone because i want to stew in my own twatty bitch mood and also i don't want to build you up because ZOMG we should just because we're women and we need to stick together."  mainly i want to tug your weave a little a la sheree and kim z and have things escalate because when i'm in my bitch zone because i wouldn't piss on fire to put you out (thank you eminem).

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i guess the round about point i'm trying to make is that i'm so sick of everyone fake playing nice and acting like they're abhorred by catty behavior.  that's all well and good and in most cases probably what should actually happen but it's just not reality.  i think too often people try to bury their snark wherein if you think someone posted something fucking awful you're entitled to feel that way about it.  and this certainly makes no one a bad person.
own your shit.  bloggers have chosen to put themselves out publicly and with that comes criticism (
and sometimes that criticism will be neither constructive nor respectful) but we can all put our big girl underwear on and fucking deal with it and not whine about getting our feelings hurt.  i'm almost baffled on a daily basis when bloggers flip shit over the opinions of virtual strangers they only "know" through the internet machine.

let's all just own our bitch-self.
embrace the side-eye.
cue the eye-roll.

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and here - i'll be the first to admit that my daily blog-reading goes something like this:
oh lawd i would skin that girl and wear her if i could.  wait - is this a bible study?
cute kid, cute kid, cute kid, HOLY SHIT never post another picture of that not cute kid.
oh what's this - marriage advice you say?  oh even better - marriage advice from a toddler-excuse-me-girl and she's been married for a hot minute.  how useful.  thank you so much.cute kid, cute kid, YAWN giveaway.
BUMPDATE.  i wish they would stop comparing them to foods i like to eat.  it takes me to a weird place.
OH - sponsored post?  how neat of you to do this again.
HAHAHA that crazy drunk bitch is hungover again (
ugh do i feel her pain).
#OOTD?  i wonder if people would take it the wrong way if i did my own take on it?  and by own take i mean a burlap sack with like maybe a beer-can-6-pack type necklace and my middle finger as my best accessory?  no - better not.  
sweet lord do i need a break.  kidding blogs - i can't quit you.
oh look at her - if she loved her life anymore she may explode.  oh the sun must shine of "
HUSBAND'S ASS" and that's why she's so chipper.
oh hey a picture of cheese fries?  now we're fucking talking.

look - i'm not here condoning being a mean girl (ack does that reference make me cringe).
but what i am advocating for is not everyone being such a pussy.
know that if you think that i'm thinking something mean then you're probably right.
know that there's at least a dozen bloggers who i read that i think are bat-shit-crazy-funny and they turn me on in probably a really inappropriate way.  and i dig them for that.
know that when i comment on your blog it's because i read you on a regular basis and that if i threaten you with physical violence because you're so pretty that it's coming from a place of love.
but mainly know that you will never get bullshit positive reinforcement from me because that's not how i roll.  and if every blogger is going to cry foul when someone has something non-flowery to say that doesn't blow rainbow sparkles up everyone's ass then what are we all really doing here?

in closing (because i want to pretend i'm in college again and in a public speaking class that i never took) one of my favorite authors, gillian flynn, wrote a short essay years ago.  it's her thoughts on women and it has to be the most honest and raw things i have ever read and i can't help but love and agree with each and every word.  you can read it here but my favorite excerpts are below.

p.s. this is not me encouraging women to accept ourselves at our very worst but merely offering up the advice that it's ok to embrace the bitch.

Gin and Bare It

Wednesday, June 19

i could never build a good enough case to prove that i'm actually an adult.

i'm going to try and get my shit together at some point and write like anything of substance.
but in the meantime here's a bunch of vine videos shitler and i made last night.
after we over-served ourselves.

also - in celebration of all kinds of marriage advice i'm going to give you some.
even though i'm not married.
don't ever stop getting drunk together.
you're welcome.

we need to grow up.
p.s. i don't know what my vine username is.  because i'm remedial.  help me.

Gin and Bare It

Monday, June 17

everyone wins

i'm certainly not going to go back and read whatever i wrote on friday.
no ma'am.
because frankly the insane amount of pictures that i took this weekend only serve to remind me that i:
a. have no life
b. seriously have no life
c. should make better choices because i don't remember everything about the weekend.

friday was my surgery day to get two pesky wisdom teeth forcefully removed from my face place.
it was like a dream.  i don't remember falling asleep, the doctor assured me i did since i immediately began snoring (to which shitler said: "yup, sounds about right"), and i do remember telling the oral surgeon that i was just living the fucking dream.  clearly.  then shitler had the honor of taking me out in public so i could get drugs for my face pain and also other things that i didn't need but demanded nonetheless.  like sparkly flip flops, juice boxes, and massive amounts of jell-o.
then it was home to the couch.
where apparently my only way of communicating was through pictures.  of my dogs.

and basically i felt like a goddamn super hero.
like i was prepared to go back to work.  solve all the problems of the world.  drink all the wine. 
i was unstoppable.  i even ate salmon.

but that feeling drastically came to a halt on saturday.
upon waking up it felt like i had gotten hit by a goddamn mack truck.  
and the only think that was going to make me feel even the tiniest bit better was massive amounts of ice cream and movies.  i managed to cash a variety of movies but got unnecessarily angry when the dvd for brave wouldn't work.  so WHATEVER i don't know what happens.  because the last part i saw was her having that terrible fight with her momma and then fleeing on horseback.  i hope everything turns out ok.

but then also we had to clean the house.  because shitler invited all the families over for father's day celebrating on sunday.  and let's face it - i'm the laziest piece of shit on the planet and i hate having to do any work of any kind.  but it's ok - because i made it through.  and i officially made myself useful even though i was pain pill drugged out of my mind.

like i hung out with these kids.

and then somehow i managed to snap some of the cutest photos of them ever.
like yes i will pat myself on the back.  because there is no way that i should have been able to get these in the state i was in this weekend.  and also i'm unsure why shitler let me use my nice, expensive camera when i probably would have chucked into the lake had someone dare me to.

but i digress.
feast your eyes.

Gin and Bare It
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