Or more appropriately, "The Mixed Bag Of It That I Get".
I say mixed bag because, when it comes to car, I seem to have really shit luck, followed by "Okay, here, it's not so bad"-luck.
Night before last, my truck got broken into. My dash board got yanked out because the genius tweakers started to tear it apart before realizing "Oh hey, the stereo isn't bolted in, it just slides right out!"
I'm a little pissed.
The good side of the story is that they caught the assholes that did it within four hours of me filing a police report. Which really surprised the hell out of me, considering I am still yet to come face-to-face with a badge. I filed a police report over the phone (Fuck you and your lazy cops, Springfield PD!).
The part I'm starting to get irritated about, though, is the fact that I was told I could pick up my belongings from the property room the next day (today). Property room tells me they need verification from the officer in charge of the case before they can release it.
Guess who's not in the office today.
I want my god damned stereo back!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Monday, May 30, 2011
An Open Letter
To All My Friends Who Are Dudes:
Hey. Remember me? Yeah, you do. I'm that one chick with the huge tits and long hair. Yep, that's the one. Yeah, the loud one. Oh yeah, I cuss like a sailor too. I'm pushy and opinionated and sarcastic and cynical.
I'm the dickless guy friend. You remember me. And you love me because I play that role very well.
It's the way people expect me to act. They think of me, and they already have a pretty good idea of how I'm going to react to just about any situation. They also know that I tend to keep my head down and personal shit to myself. Don't be bringing none of that in here.
I am the dickless guy friend. I play video games, go bar hopping just to get drunk and party, likes tattoos, drives a truck. (For those of my male friends that this does not apply to: most of my crowd fits this description.) I have successfully been a female wing man. Most of the time, I don't even have to back up whatever charm my dude friend is trying to pull off. I just exist in his vicinity.
Can I let you in on a little secret, though?
I'm getting tired of playing this game.
People expect me to behave a certain way. I almost feel like there are rules to follow for how I act. It's real fun watching those rules collide with "voice your opinions/feelings/thoughts on this subject".
I'm tired of being the dickless guy friend. Because being the dickless guy friend is interfering with me being ME, and being comfortable with my life. And right now, I really need that.
I need for my mind to quit overanalyzing every word spoken to me, every personal interaction, everything. When you see me with a blank face, staring at nothing? I'm not spaced out, having an ADD moment. No, my mind is kicked into overdrive, going over a particular day, appointment, conversation. Dissecting it and examining every angle.
And I can't stop it.
No wonder I'm always high-strung and agitated.
Let me be me, people. Not the gunblogger, not the dickless guy friend, not the fighter or crazy driver of the Blazer from Hell.
Me.
Please.
Sincerely,
Snarky
Hey. Remember me? Yeah, you do. I'm that one chick with the huge tits and long hair. Yep, that's the one. Yeah, the loud one. Oh yeah, I cuss like a sailor too. I'm pushy and opinionated and sarcastic and cynical.
I'm the dickless guy friend. You remember me. And you love me because I play that role very well.
It's the way people expect me to act. They think of me, and they already have a pretty good idea of how I'm going to react to just about any situation. They also know that I tend to keep my head down and personal shit to myself. Don't be bringing none of that in here.
I am the dickless guy friend. I play video games, go bar hopping just to get drunk and party, likes tattoos, drives a truck. (For those of my male friends that this does not apply to: most of my crowd fits this description.) I have successfully been a female wing man. Most of the time, I don't even have to back up whatever charm my dude friend is trying to pull off. I just exist in his vicinity.
Can I let you in on a little secret, though?
I'm getting tired of playing this game.
People expect me to behave a certain way. I almost feel like there are rules to follow for how I act. It's real fun watching those rules collide with "voice your opinions/feelings/thoughts on this subject".
I'm tired of being the dickless guy friend. Because being the dickless guy friend is interfering with me being ME, and being comfortable with my life. And right now, I really need that.
I need for my mind to quit overanalyzing every word spoken to me, every personal interaction, everything. When you see me with a blank face, staring at nothing? I'm not spaced out, having an ADD moment. No, my mind is kicked into overdrive, going over a particular day, appointment, conversation. Dissecting it and examining every angle.
And I can't stop it.
No wonder I'm always high-strung and agitated.
Let me be me, people. Not the gunblogger, not the dickless guy friend, not the fighter or crazy driver of the Blazer from Hell.
Me.
Please.
Sincerely,
Snarky
Thursday, May 26, 2011
A New Project
Okay kids. I think I need to call upon the vast wonders of the internet and all you freaks and geeks on it for a bit of assistance.
I have an idea for a new project to fill my idle time (because I seem to have an overabundance of it). Except I need outside opinions for this project.
So, from time to time, starting NOW, I will ask questions of you lovely folks. If you could be so kind as to leave your answers in the comment sections, it would be greatly appreciated. Also, refer friends to any post needing opinions and feedback: I want opinions of people from all walks of life, not just any one clique in the world.
As I said, the feedback would be greatly appreciated, and I can promise you updates on this Sooper Sekrit Project as they become available, and you folks will be the first to know once it is completed.
But for now...
When you think of a tattoo parlor, what is the general train of thought you end up with? What emotions strike you at the thought of walking in, what do you expect to see, and what do you think when you do see it?
Leave your answers in the comment section below, and thanks bunches for participating!
I have an idea for a new project to fill my idle time (because I seem to have an overabundance of it). Except I need outside opinions for this project.
So, from time to time, starting NOW, I will ask questions of you lovely folks. If you could be so kind as to leave your answers in the comment sections, it would be greatly appreciated. Also, refer friends to any post needing opinions and feedback: I want opinions of people from all walks of life, not just any one clique in the world.
As I said, the feedback would be greatly appreciated, and I can promise you updates on this Sooper Sekrit Project as they become available, and you folks will be the first to know once it is completed.
But for now...
When you think of a tattoo parlor, what is the general train of thought you end up with? What emotions strike you at the thought of walking in, what do you expect to see, and what do you think when you do see it?
Leave your answers in the comment section below, and thanks bunches for participating!
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Holy Crap!
So. I've been a very busy girl.
I've pretty much relocated to Springfield, MO. Bigger town, better jobs, MORE jobs, and more trouble for me to get into on weekends. Oh yeah. I went there.
You can blame Stud Roomie. He had a bad week at work and decided he needed to start drinking again. So I brought him down, because he used to live down here. And it was just a 32-hour whirlwind of beer and shenanigans.... no beer in me, thanks, I had to be sober to figure out WHERE THE FUCK I WAS.
And then we stopped by a tattoo parlor to visit a friend of Bret's, and instead found his tattoo artist. Who I immediately hit it off with.
Say hello to Ink Slinger, my new favorite person.
Oh, he's a fun one. A little off in the head, but tattoo artists usually are. That's what makes them fun, right?
He's a good person. That's a first for me: someone who respects and appreciates me? WOW! The world must be ending!
Wait, what's today's date...?
*snerk*
More later when I can organize my thoughts just a wee bit better.
I've pretty much relocated to Springfield, MO. Bigger town, better jobs, MORE jobs, and more trouble for me to get into on weekends. Oh yeah. I went there.
You can blame Stud Roomie. He had a bad week at work and decided he needed to start drinking again. So I brought him down, because he used to live down here. And it was just a 32-hour whirlwind of beer and shenanigans.... no beer in me, thanks, I had to be sober to figure out WHERE THE FUCK I WAS.
And then we stopped by a tattoo parlor to visit a friend of Bret's, and instead found his tattoo artist. Who I immediately hit it off with.
Say hello to Ink Slinger, my new favorite person.
Oh, he's a fun one. A little off in the head, but tattoo artists usually are. That's what makes them fun, right?
He's a good person. That's a first for me: someone who respects and appreciates me? WOW! The world must be ending!
Wait, what's today's date...?
*snerk*
More later when I can organize my thoughts just a wee bit better.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Pffft!
So, I've been drinking (terrible stuff), aaaand I'm home alone, and I'm depressed and kinda pissed off at some situations in my personal life that I would rather not vent here to you guys, but I do have to blow off some steam soon or I'll lose my fucking mind.... Anyway.
Life sucks. But you know what?
At least I look hot.
*snrk*
Life sucks. But you know what?
At least I look hot.
*snrk*
Three Years
Three years ago, a man died.
This man wasn't the best-looking, or the smartest man, but he did okay. He moved around a lot when he was real young, and that just makes any kid's life unpleasant.
But it was more than just that.
This man was in a wheelchair, growing up back in a time when he was made to ride the short bus, and be in the special ed classes. Yeah, that really helped him in the social department.
This man had one hell of a temper, and would throw some epic fits. The things you have nightmares about.
This man was given a chance, though, to do everything the "normal" kids did at summer camp, and that taught him to think past the lot in life that society, at the time, had given him.
So he's in a wheelchair. Big fucking deal.
This man was a paramedic from that chair. He joined the local chapter of the Lion's Club and gave back to the community and disabled children growing up in the same streets he did.
He had two children that he did his best to raise. Sure, he lost his temper every now and then... but they got the message he was trying to convey. And for the most part, they're not total screw ups. They're both pretty smart kids, doing the best they can in the world today.
This man taught me how to drive. How to do my best to be self sufficient. How to carry myself tall, and to never take shit from anybody. He is responsible for my arrogance and twisted sense of humor. For my pride in my home, and in things that I accomplish.
He introduced me to video games at a young age, never fearing that I would try and re-enact scenes out of Doom 2 or Duke Nukem. He didn't try to protect us from the horrors of the outside world... he just didn't want to see his kids do something stupid and get hurt.
This man was my father. Daniel. My son is named for him. And until the day that little boy was born, this man was the most important person in my life.
Three years ago today, I had to say goodbye. Three years ago today, my father died.
I miss you, Dad.
This man wasn't the best-looking, or the smartest man, but he did okay. He moved around a lot when he was real young, and that just makes any kid's life unpleasant.
But it was more than just that.
This man was in a wheelchair, growing up back in a time when he was made to ride the short bus, and be in the special ed classes. Yeah, that really helped him in the social department.
This man had one hell of a temper, and would throw some epic fits. The things you have nightmares about.
This man was given a chance, though, to do everything the "normal" kids did at summer camp, and that taught him to think past the lot in life that society, at the time, had given him.
So he's in a wheelchair. Big fucking deal.
This man was a paramedic from that chair. He joined the local chapter of the Lion's Club and gave back to the community and disabled children growing up in the same streets he did.
He had two children that he did his best to raise. Sure, he lost his temper every now and then... but they got the message he was trying to convey. And for the most part, they're not total screw ups. They're both pretty smart kids, doing the best they can in the world today.
This man taught me how to drive. How to do my best to be self sufficient. How to carry myself tall, and to never take shit from anybody. He is responsible for my arrogance and twisted sense of humor. For my pride in my home, and in things that I accomplish.
He introduced me to video games at a young age, never fearing that I would try and re-enact scenes out of Doom 2 or Duke Nukem. He didn't try to protect us from the horrors of the outside world... he just didn't want to see his kids do something stupid and get hurt.
This man was my father. Daniel. My son is named for him. And until the day that little boy was born, this man was the most important person in my life.
Three years ago today, I had to say goodbye. Three years ago today, my father died.
I miss you, Dad.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Brain Vomit, pt. 4602
So it's time for some brain vomit. This should be interesting.
I'm currently sitting home alone. There's thunder outside, which is having a very interesting effect. I live in a trailer (yes, and it's cramped and I hate it here), so loud, rumbling thunder RIGHT overhead in a tin box... With my odd mentality, I notice mental effects of things like that. I'm big into sensation. Smells, taste, sounds; certain things trigger a mood swing. The all-around *feel* of thunder in this place falls into that category, apparently.
And now I'm all nice and talkative, and I know I have been woefully neglecting you folks of a good, meaty post you can really sink your teeth into, so here I am, babbling to give you folks on the internet something to waste five or so minutes of your life.
In all honesty, instead of listening to music and blogging about absolutely nothing, I really should be cleaning, but on days like today, it's just *really* difficult to find the motivation. Rainy days are for lounging around doing absolutely nothing. And while Wee Idjit is currently with the Redhead, I'm going to enjoy an hour or so of me time.
I don't know if I have mentioned this yet, but Nerd has moved out and back in with his mom. He was watching Wee Idjit during the day while everybody was at work, and I started noticing some major errors on his part. We butted heads is putting it lightly, and he fled. Apparently when I'm mad enough, I don't put the fear of God into pepole.... I put the fear of me into people. Androgynous didn't care, for she dumped him several weeks ago, and Stud was a little irked (it is his big brother, after all), but isn't holding it against me. Nerd was, and all parties agree, an all around useless fuckwad.
Since Androgynous is so rarely here, that just leaves me, Stud, and Wee Idjit. And with personal politics and the drama llama that follows them, my life has been turned upside down. To quote a guy I know, a day in my life is like an episode of a really bad soap opera. But at times, it's entertaining just because of the sheer insanity, when you stop and think about it. You don't think so? Eh, maybe it's one of those "you had to be there" type situations.
I'm currently trying to find a better job, which is a Bad Day. I mean, jobs are so freaking scarce in this town, it's damn near impossible. Right now, I'd even settle for an equally shitty job, just so long as it gave more hours. Making ends meet on this part time, minimum wage bullshit is exactly that: bullshit. And yes, I have tried finding another part time, but my current work schedule doesn't play well with ANY other shifts that exist. Not to mention taking Stud's schedule into consideration, since part of the living arrangement agreement was providing transportation.
And I can't write up a blog post without mentioning a bit of good news, kids. A guy I dated in high school has recently resurfaced, thanks to the wonders of Al Gore's Intarwebz. He found me through Facebook and my little brother, and we have recently begun talking once again, with the glorious knowledge that he lives in Springfield, a mere two hours from me.
I see many weekend visits to Springfield in the near future, since it's close enough and only takes half a tank of gas to get there. Whoo!
This could be entertaining, ya'll.
I'm currently sitting home alone. There's thunder outside, which is having a very interesting effect. I live in a trailer (yes, and it's cramped and I hate it here), so loud, rumbling thunder RIGHT overhead in a tin box... With my odd mentality, I notice mental effects of things like that. I'm big into sensation. Smells, taste, sounds; certain things trigger a mood swing. The all-around *feel* of thunder in this place falls into that category, apparently.
And now I'm all nice and talkative, and I know I have been woefully neglecting you folks of a good, meaty post you can really sink your teeth into, so here I am, babbling to give you folks on the internet something to waste five or so minutes of your life.
In all honesty, instead of listening to music and blogging about absolutely nothing, I really should be cleaning, but on days like today, it's just *really* difficult to find the motivation. Rainy days are for lounging around doing absolutely nothing. And while Wee Idjit is currently with the Redhead, I'm going to enjoy an hour or so of me time.
I don't know if I have mentioned this yet, but Nerd has moved out and back in with his mom. He was watching Wee Idjit during the day while everybody was at work, and I started noticing some major errors on his part. We butted heads is putting it lightly, and he fled. Apparently when I'm mad enough, I don't put the fear of God into pepole.... I put the fear of me into people. Androgynous didn't care, for she dumped him several weeks ago, and Stud was a little irked (it is his big brother, after all), but isn't holding it against me. Nerd was, and all parties agree, an all around useless fuckwad.
Since Androgynous is so rarely here, that just leaves me, Stud, and Wee Idjit. And with personal politics and the drama llama that follows them, my life has been turned upside down. To quote a guy I know, a day in my life is like an episode of a really bad soap opera. But at times, it's entertaining just because of the sheer insanity, when you stop and think about it. You don't think so? Eh, maybe it's one of those "you had to be there" type situations.
I'm currently trying to find a better job, which is a Bad Day. I mean, jobs are so freaking scarce in this town, it's damn near impossible. Right now, I'd even settle for an equally shitty job, just so long as it gave more hours. Making ends meet on this part time, minimum wage bullshit is exactly that: bullshit. And yes, I have tried finding another part time, but my current work schedule doesn't play well with ANY other shifts that exist. Not to mention taking Stud's schedule into consideration, since part of the living arrangement agreement was providing transportation.
And I can't write up a blog post without mentioning a bit of good news, kids. A guy I dated in high school has recently resurfaced, thanks to the wonders of Al Gore's Intarwebz. He found me through Facebook and my little brother, and we have recently begun talking once again, with the glorious knowledge that he lives in Springfield, a mere two hours from me.
I see many weekend visits to Springfield in the near future, since it's close enough and only takes half a tank of gas to get there. Whoo!
This could be entertaining, ya'll.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Overheard in Texts
Discussing the debauchery that all young adults in college towns, much like myself, get into when they hit a weekend and have zero responsibility for 48 hours, a coworker of mine, Troy, told me that he was never drinking tequila again, for he had woken up in an awkward position with two ladies of the, ah, easily persuaded nature, in his room mate's bed.
Troy: I'm never drinking tequila again. That was entirely too crazy a night for me.
Snarky: Dude, that's why I drink tequila. Tequila opens up doors of opportunity for new and exciting ways to get in trouble.
Troy: .... Your quotes will make history one day, girlie.
Snarky: Yeah, I know.
Because I truly am that sharp-witted and charming, kids. Accept no substitutes.
Troy: I'm never drinking tequila again. That was entirely too crazy a night for me.
Snarky: Dude, that's why I drink tequila. Tequila opens up doors of opportunity for new and exciting ways to get in trouble.
Troy: .... Your quotes will make history one day, girlie.
Snarky: Yeah, I know.
Because I truly am that sharp-witted and charming, kids. Accept no substitutes.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Stylish Blogging!
So, because this guy over here tagged me for this award for STYLE, ya'll, and there has been a depressing LACK of content, and it's easy filler..... You get the picture.
The rules are name seven things my readers probably don't know about me, then tag fifteen people to do the same. Simple enough.
1 - I make a lot of noise and act intimidating, but I have never once gotten into a hands-on fight. My dad subtly taught me that growing up. I'm obnoxious as all hell, and I'll get in your face and possibly shove you, but when the circle closes around you and the fists start to fly, I am a spineless coward and will run the fuck away.
2 - As a teenager (and a very anti-social one at that), I participated in sports. Not in high school, though. Fuck no, that would require me actually getting along with people, and we all know I'm no good at that. No, all the sports I participated in were in a wheelchair. With my father being the president of the local Lion's Club (who is known for their involvement with the (handicapped? Disabled?) community) and the fact that he himself grew up in a wheelchair due to CP (More irony that Mike tagged me here and I ended up talking about my dad...), it's no surprised I grew up playing football, basketball, and rugby strapped in a chair. It kept me out of trouble, and I made a lot of friends that really shaped the way I live my life.
3 - I have got some big fucking feet, for a girl. I wear a women's size 11.5 shoe. It makes finding a comfortable pair of shoes a bitch, and finding comfortable shoes that I will actually wear and can AFFORD (Cuz I'm a broke bitch, ya'll) damn near impossible. It's amazing at all that I found my favorite pair of boots for less than $50 after shipping, and they fit me *perfectly*.
4 - I am a coffee whore. I could not make it through the day without drinking multiple pots of it. And I'll drink a pot of coffee and immediately go to sleep. But I'm a snobby coffee whore. I'm always on the lookout for the next delicious bag of liquid heaven that I can't afford. Because I'm difficult to buy gifts for, my family has taken to just giving me Starbucks gift cards, and I'll go find a flavor that piques my interest. I'm not saying Starbucks is the be-all, end-all of coffee. Truth be told, I love Gloria Jeans the most... but they're all the way up in the mall in Independence, and that's a lot of expensive gas for my truck to burn.
5 - I was raped when I was 18 that resulted in me paying a visit to Planned Parenthood for an abortion. I was living with a man who I lied to myself and told myself he loved me. He was a raging alcoholic and developed a drug problem after I moved in with him, but I desperately did not want to live under my father's overprotective restrictions, so I dealt with it. I dealt with a lot of abuse and kept convincing myself to stay, but one day he came home from work with two coworkers, all boozed up. They tied me up and raped me, and instead of calling the cops after they untied me and left, I called my mother to come get me, and I moved home. I didn't talk to anyone for months, and I rarely left my bedroom. I think my father was considering having me committed. Neither of my parents ever knew this happened. This also explains my *intense* dislike and distrust for Mexicans. The other two guys were illegal.
6 - I will be straight-forward, brassy, and bold when I talk to a new person for the first time. And being the nerd I am, this is usually on the internet. But the moment you meet me face-to-face, I will clam up and turn quiet and shy. Blogorado was a perfect example of this: that first night, I was quiet and shy and stuck to a corner and tried not to interact too much because I was terrified of somehow managing to offend all these people that I admired so much. And we're not even going to get into the implications of tension when I'm in this situation with a guy.
7 - I am all about texture and the sensation of touch. I can't eat greasy foods because of this, and certain fabrics drive me insane and I can't wear them. All those chicks that love the feeling of crushed velvet under their fingers? Yeah, get that shit away from me, it weirds me the fuck out.
That was way harder than I thought it would be.
Okay, so let's see if I can come up with fifteen people to tag... Hmmm....
Salamander
Crystal
DaddyBear
Rauðbjorn
JRebel
MattG
pdb
Squeaky
Wai
Sabra
Okay, I tried to tag as many people as I could that hadn't done this yet. Everybody in our circle is pretty damned stylish, yanno?
Happy blogging, folks!
The rules are name seven things my readers probably don't know about me, then tag fifteen people to do the same. Simple enough.
1 - I make a lot of noise and act intimidating, but I have never once gotten into a hands-on fight. My dad subtly taught me that growing up. I'm obnoxious as all hell, and I'll get in your face and possibly shove you, but when the circle closes around you and the fists start to fly, I am a spineless coward and will run the fuck away.
2 - As a teenager (and a very anti-social one at that), I participated in sports. Not in high school, though. Fuck no, that would require me actually getting along with people, and we all know I'm no good at that. No, all the sports I participated in were in a wheelchair. With my father being the president of the local Lion's Club (who is known for their involvement with the (handicapped? Disabled?) community) and the fact that he himself grew up in a wheelchair due to CP (More irony that Mike tagged me here and I ended up talking about my dad...), it's no surprised I grew up playing football, basketball, and rugby strapped in a chair. It kept me out of trouble, and I made a lot of friends that really shaped the way I live my life.
3 - I have got some big fucking feet, for a girl. I wear a women's size 11.5 shoe. It makes finding a comfortable pair of shoes a bitch, and finding comfortable shoes that I will actually wear and can AFFORD (Cuz I'm a broke bitch, ya'll) damn near impossible. It's amazing at all that I found my favorite pair of boots for less than $50 after shipping, and they fit me *perfectly*.
4 - I am a coffee whore. I could not make it through the day without drinking multiple pots of it. And I'll drink a pot of coffee and immediately go to sleep. But I'm a snobby coffee whore. I'm always on the lookout for the next delicious bag of liquid heaven that I can't afford. Because I'm difficult to buy gifts for, my family has taken to just giving me Starbucks gift cards, and I'll go find a flavor that piques my interest. I'm not saying Starbucks is the be-all, end-all of coffee. Truth be told, I love Gloria Jeans the most... but they're all the way up in the mall in Independence, and that's a lot of expensive gas for my truck to burn.
5 - I was raped when I was 18 that resulted in me paying a visit to Planned Parenthood for an abortion. I was living with a man who I lied to myself and told myself he loved me. He was a raging alcoholic and developed a drug problem after I moved in with him, but I desperately did not want to live under my father's overprotective restrictions, so I dealt with it. I dealt with a lot of abuse and kept convincing myself to stay, but one day he came home from work with two coworkers, all boozed up. They tied me up and raped me, and instead of calling the cops after they untied me and left, I called my mother to come get me, and I moved home. I didn't talk to anyone for months, and I rarely left my bedroom. I think my father was considering having me committed. Neither of my parents ever knew this happened. This also explains my *intense* dislike and distrust for Mexicans. The other two guys were illegal.
6 - I will be straight-forward, brassy, and bold when I talk to a new person for the first time. And being the nerd I am, this is usually on the internet. But the moment you meet me face-to-face, I will clam up and turn quiet and shy. Blogorado was a perfect example of this: that first night, I was quiet and shy and stuck to a corner and tried not to interact too much because I was terrified of somehow managing to offend all these people that I admired so much. And we're not even going to get into the implications of tension when I'm in this situation with a guy.
7 - I am all about texture and the sensation of touch. I can't eat greasy foods because of this, and certain fabrics drive me insane and I can't wear them. All those chicks that love the feeling of crushed velvet under their fingers? Yeah, get that shit away from me, it weirds me the fuck out.
That was way harder than I thought it would be.
Okay, so let's see if I can come up with fifteen people to tag... Hmmm....
Salamander
Crystal
DaddyBear
Rauðbjorn
JRebel
MattG
pdb
Squeaky
Wai
Sabra
Okay, I tried to tag as many people as I could that hadn't done this yet. Everybody in our circle is pretty damned stylish, yanno?
Happy blogging, folks!
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
COOOOOKIEZ
So, seriously, it becomes a Big Fucking Deal when I step into the kitchen to bake the best fucking cookies EVAR. People flock to my place to visit and snag one of them. I have seen people get in FISTFIGHTS over the big ones, drawing blood for the Last One.
Stud has resorted to bribery to get me to bake them again. Red Velvet is his personal favorite, and he has bugged and badgered me for days until my willpower finally dissolved. Can't resist the puppy dog eyes forever.
So when I did finally agree to make them, word got around quick. A friend from work came over to my place to see what the big deal was all about, Androgynous appeared as if from nowhere, Stud and Nerd's mom came rolling into town in her new car, the USS Silver Lining.
Everyone sat around and waited with bated breath... except for the Coworker, who had never witnessed such delirium over mere *cookies*. Stud was damn near drooling on himself, twitching with excitement.
I made a double batch on a small cookie sheet, ergo smaller cookies... I'm going to end up with a *lot* of cookies. But I don't know how long the whole batch will last if the first dozen sets a pattern. The first dozen, warm and gooey and delicious from the oven?
Yeah. Gone inside of five minutes.
This is gonna be *fun*.
Stud has resorted to bribery to get me to bake them again. Red Velvet is his personal favorite, and he has bugged and badgered me for days until my willpower finally dissolved. Can't resist the puppy dog eyes forever.
So when I did finally agree to make them, word got around quick. A friend from work came over to my place to see what the big deal was all about, Androgynous appeared as if from nowhere, Stud and Nerd's mom came rolling into town in her new car, the USS Silver Lining.
Everyone sat around and waited with bated breath... except for the Coworker, who had never witnessed such delirium over mere *cookies*. Stud was damn near drooling on himself, twitching with excitement.
I made a double batch on a small cookie sheet, ergo smaller cookies... I'm going to end up with a *lot* of cookies. But I don't know how long the whole batch will last if the first dozen sets a pattern. The first dozen, warm and gooey and delicious from the oven?
Yeah. Gone inside of five minutes.
This is gonna be *fun*.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
