The beginning of the end

So I'm kind of over this whole blog thing.  And I'm going to change it to make it private.  I'll still chime in every once in a while, so if you're interested in still having access, please let me know and I'll grant you permission. 

Because I am the motherfucking gatekeeper, bitches!

Sorry.  Got a little carried away.

Peace out. 

Oh ... you didn't know?

You didn't know that my New Years resolution was to be an even shittier blogger than I've been the last 6 months? 

Yeah. 

The truth is that I have been absolutely swamped with two new cases which each ballooned into the unholy clusterfuck that has taken over my life and caused me to work every single weekend and Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years. 

Even Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. 

Fuck.

And it hasn't really gotten better, but it has slowed down just a bit.  I'm out in California visiting Drew and spending 10 days away from the cold and snowy mess that is Chicago right now.  Sorry, peeps.  You should feel bad for me though.  Because I have a blister from my flip flops.  That I wore to the beach.  In January. 

I know, I'll go fuck myself. 

Cheers to 2012 and maybe more writing. 

Naughty Blogger

Yeah.  I know.  I've been away.

The truth is ... I have nothing interesting to write about.  I don't have much of a life right now.  Work is crazy busy, which is good, but tiring.  The boyfriend is in California and I haven't been out there since July.  Luckily, he has been here several times since then.  And we were in Austin for my birthday, which you read about back in October when I promised to be a better blogger.  And then subsequently failed miserably.

I usually do a lot of writing around the holidays.  A few of my favorites from years past include:

• V's Grown Up Christmas List (still waiting on all things on this last - seriously, Santa, get your shit together and help a sister out).
• Reality is a bitch until you start googling pictures and realize your life doesn't actually suck (by far and away my most popular post via google search.  Apparently everyone and their control-freak-cut-you-down-and-call-you-fat-until-you-develop-a-crippling-eating-disorder mother googles "anorexic ballerinas."  That, or they're looking for lesbian pictures from Black Swan (Mila and Natalie each weighed 94 pounds filming that movie, by the way.  I'm pretty sure that equals my left thigh.  Maybe.  And to me that is highly preferable to how they looked).
• Let's talk about the holidays, shall we? (Ah yes.  Probably one of my all-time favorite posts.  I may need to bust out those Carmen Electra moves again this year sometime.  I mean ... IT'S CHRISTMAS).

Anyway, I seem to have been much more interesting in the past.  Because now?  You get pictures.  And that's pretty much it.  The boyfriend comes into town Thursday night and we'll have a few days in Chicago before heading to Indiana.  I'll get to spend a few days with his family before leaving him there and heading back to my family for Christmas.  AFCPs.  I don't need to say anything more.

The big news is that I already know what my big Christmas present is this year.  It's a big girl camera!  So yeah, you'll probably be forced to look at more pictures until my life gets more exciting.  Which I can pretty much guarantee you will not be this winter as I plan to hibernate with books, movies and wine. 

I'll try and check in more, I halfheartedly promise.

I make bad decisions.

I've made a lot of horrible decisions while drunk (this blog is pretty much evidence of that).  I've also made some amazing decisions while drunk (like booking a plane ticket to Vegas after the 8 margarita happy hour).

Right now I'm regretting one bad decision ...

Drunk or sober, who in the hell signs up for a 5k on Thanksgiving morning?

Is it considered an eating disorder if you puke from running?  Or is that just being horrifically out of shape?

Stupid.  Stupid.  STUPID.  

I hate my life.

But I am going to eat the shit out of some turkey and stuffing and pies tomorrow night.

Happy Fucking Thanksgiving.

Sexiest Dead Man

People Magazine came out with their Sexiest Man Alive for 2011.  I hear it was a toss-up between Bradley Cooper and Ryan Gosling.  While I wouldn't throw either out of bed for ... well, pretty much any reason, I think both pale in comparison to my Sexiest Dead Man.

He oozes sex to me.

Yep, I'd throw my panties at him.

Paul Newman.

Whether he was shit-talking while playing hockey in Slapshot or wearing boxers and a smile in The Long, Hot Summer he was sexy as hell.  And I'd put him up against any Ryan Gosling, Gerard Butler or Christian Bale.

Sexy and charming.  And those goddamn gorgeous blue eyes. 

Other notable dead hotties: Cary Grant, James Dean, Marlon Brando. 

C batteries are good for more than one thing

Scene: V's living room, 20 minutes before Monday Night Football.

Power goes out.

V: What the fuck??

Mom: Damn it.  I knew this would happen again - a little wind.

V: Arrghhhh!  Do we have a radio that takes batteries?

Mom: Yes!  I don't know what kind it takes.  Let me look.

A minute passes ...

V: Well?

Mom: Shut up, I'm looking!  It's dark!  C's.  I don't have any C batteries.

Light bulb!  [A figurative one, of course]

V: I DO!


Mom: Why do you have C batteries?


V: Don't worry about it. 

Yes folks, I took batteries out of my vibrator and put them in an old school AM radio to listen to the Packers game. 

New low or new level of awesome? 

*Aaron Rodgers, if you google yourself and come across this blog, please take note that you're in my Top 5.  Heeeeyyyyyy.....

Baby Steps

The last time I went to Babies 'R' Us I broke out in hives and ended up grabbing a gift card and running out as fast as I could.

Today I had another baby shower for a very good friend.  And I had to return to Babies 'R' Us to get a gift.

The result?  I survived.

No hives.

But a lot of sweating and some crying (I wish I could say it was a baby that was crying).

I couldn't find anything on the 16 page registry, and anything I finally did locate they didn't have in the right color or pattern or frog or duck or ... oh. my. god.  I think I blacked out.  I'm shaking again just thinking about it.

No one was around to help me.

Finally found something on the registry.  Grabbed it.  A big bag to put it in.  Some pink tissue paper.  Hightailed it out of there.  Got back to my car and the following text conversation took place:

V: Just spent more than I wanted to for the shower gift because I couldn't find anything on the registry, started sweating and had to leave Babies 'R' Us.

D: Calm down.  It's just baby shit.

V: It's really scary and overwhelming.  Need a drink.

D: At least you and I will only have to buy baby shit for OTHER people's babies, Honey!

V: Sexiest thing you've ever said to me.

Being on the same page about not wanting children?  PRICELESS.


*But I'm very very very happy and excited to meet Baby Girl Z and had a great time at the shower today catching up (and I'm not just saying that because Momma reads my blog).