a katy perry lyric should be the title of this post

does anyone ever get the feeling that their entire life is just one giant episode of punked?

no?  just me?

that figures.  but for realsies i don't know why i insist on drinking on school nights.

and i don't know why this hangover is insisting on being so persistent.

and i don't know why i insist on having a restaurant job.

and i don't know why i insist on pretending that i care like at all like about anything.

but i do all of those things.  unfortunately.

but here's a recap of my weekend in case you cared.

and in the even that you don't i don't blame you.  because neither do i.

oh, and i'm going to link up with sami.

first there were babies that i wanted to munch on they were so cute.

then there was drinking.  and also my cat friend charlie.

and then at some point after the vodka had wreaked havoc on my ability to make responsible choices there was girl kissing and then also a water fight.  oh, and this was all on easter sunday.  because i'm anything but appropriate.

i just re-lived all of that in my mind again.

and i feel like i'm becoming re-hungover.

is that a thing? 

later this week we're going to talk 

about beating children. 

excited?

      

High Five 4 Friday

so we've established that i make poor choices, correct?
correct.
like i was actually getting over a nasty stomach virus and instead of laying low and taking it easy on my stomach i ate nachos, tacos, and vodka last night.  and then some pizza for dessert.
for shame.
but it's friday - and if that doesn't cure what ails me then i don't know what will.
as always i'm linking up with lauren at from my grey desk.
1. b brought a cape back from the bar the other weekend.  so naturally shitler put it on.  now it's like he's a super hero.  barely.

2. some sick freak kept vandalizing my desk.  but the culprit came forward this week.  glory be!
also - it turns out i like the culprit.  so she's forgiven.

3. i spend a lot of time on twitter.  mainly lol'ing @OhMrWonka

4. we're back in business.  welcome home little boy booze!
yes, the name of our boat is little boy booze.  and yes, i'm aware that boats are supposed to be female.  and yes, i don't care.

5. and maybe you're a terrorist if you don't collectively "awwwww" with me over this.  

trixie bitch

i have this nagging feeling that there isn't enough coffee in the world to get me through today.
but we won't know until i try.and remember - the walrus sings at midnight.

Slammin' Salmon. Not The Movie. Just What I Ate For Dinner.

have you ever tried to eat an entire pound of salmon?
if you haven't and you think that you want to try - i would advise against it.
unless you make it like this.

and then it turns out like this:

but note that after a probable failed attempt you will feel like you want to die. 
but the whole place will still smell like the delicious salmon you just made and you will think you're in heaven.  but you're really in hell.
so if you'd like you can dump all of the following in a pan and enjoy it yourself:
preheat your oven to 350 and in a greased pan put a pound of salmon and top it with a sliced red onion, one juiced lime, one juiced lemon, and a crapload of dill.  bake it for 25 minutes.  then proceed to eat till you puke.
also, it has been brought to my attention that the mange hounds don't like blinds.

and now you must excuse me - because if there's one thing i'm good at it's making poor choices.
oh, and not learning my lesson.
so the rest of that pound of salmon will be my bitch.  it.is.written.

Textual Feeling: B's B-Day!

in trying to honor b on the day of his birth and his cursed existence in my life since i encountered him however many years ago - i give you these:

***

me: i had asparagus with dinner last night and my pee has smelled alllll day.
b: i love when that happens.

***

b: why aren't we supposed to cry over spilled milk?  if not cleaned up properly, spilled milk can get pretty nasty.  that seems like something to cry over.

------ (this is me ignoring him)

b: 

------ (this is me ignoring him again)

b:



------ (me ignoring him)

b: EVENTUALLY YOU WILL RESPOND TO ME.
me: those are old news bitch.
b: la dee da.  i just had them sent to me.  sorry for thinking you'd enjoy them too.  now answer my question.
me: i guess my answer would be that i wouldn't give a shit because a dog or cat would lick it up and it wouldn't be my fucking problem anymore.
b: why are you so bitchy today?
me: i need a drink.

***

b: well, it's what she wants.
me: all that she wants?
b: you got it.
me: what about another baby?
b: that's me.  duh.
me: quit being obtuse and acknowledge my ace of base reference.
b: nope.  i refuse to give you that satisfaction.

***

so here's to b.  on his fucking bday.  

here's to many more times we get hammered and make poor choices while shitler judges us, to hours spent watching "my cat from hell," and to discussing books and how much we love them in front of shitler till his head explodes.  

to vodka presses (with lime -because if you prefer them without - odds are you're a fucking communist) and john daly's, and ranch dressing on the thighs of hot girls.

to daring me to steal shit when i get drunk out of my skull, to encouraging you to drunk dial people and leave embarrassing messages, and most importantly - here's to poor-decision making (especially on your bday).