call the popo, ho!

After years of recovering from a lackluster high school experience plagued by social awkwardness, I have apparently finally reached the epitome of cool. I had the cops called on me! Booyah, take that!

Betcha no one saw that coming...

If only it were that exciting. No, Mike and I had the cops called on us for taking a shower at midnight. Not a sexy shower (insert porn music here), mind you. Just a regular shower after both having worked over 10 hours that day. Within a minute of turning off the water there was a knock at the door. Mike goes to answer the door, still in his towel, as I cower out of sight in the bedroom.

Popo: "Hi, we've received a noise complaint about you." Awkward silence as cop obviously takes in Mike's wet hair and towel. "Umm, did you just get out of the shower?"

Mike: "Yeah, we just got home not too long ago. We were both at work all day."

Popo: "Oh...umm, okay." Awkward pause while cop wonders what the fuck he's doing there. "Just, umm, keep it down, okay? Have a nice night."

So either the cop thought we were having loud shower sex (which is what everyone else assumes when I tell them this story) or he realizes that my neighbors are all ridiculously hypocritical assholes.

If only their assholishness stopped here.

when mutant bugs attack

The only thing worse than being attacked by an unknown species of mutant tropical insect while sleeping in your own bed? Having every single person you know call it a hickey.

I am a lady, people! If I did indeed receive a hickey, my man would know to keep it hidden from public view! ‎
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Looks like I'll be sporting a side pony for the next week or two...

omg did i really just see that happen? is anyone else seeing this?

Okay, it's storytime, boys and girls. Today in Barnes and Noble Ala Moana a mahu (assisted by two friends, one of which was also a mahu) changed her clothes in the middle of the children's section. I could've never predicted a more entertaining start to the new year. It was like a gift from God.

I wish I had photographic evidence. I tried, but it would've been too obvious.

Let me preface this by stating that there were no children in the area at the time of these events. ‎

1. Take leopard print heels off. ‎
2. Remove booty shorts with broken fly, revealing nude colored satin granny panties. ‎
3. Bend over to search through purse, leaving nothing to audience's imagination. Definitely pre-op, my friends. ‎
4. Sit down on the floor to pull on fishnets. ‎
5. After finally noticing stares of disapproval (and even one older man storming off, muttering about hell and the declining state of society) comment, "Wait, is this inappropriate or something? Should we go to the bathroom?" ‎
6. Squeeze yourself into new denim booty shorts with faded stars on them a la 1995. ‎
7. Take off shirt to reveal black strapless bra. ‎
8. Have your friends help you squeeze into flowered bustier, because that's what friends are for. ‎
9. Finish with a black fringy shawl/jacket thing...because, after all, you're a lady. ‎
10. Get admonished by another employee for sitting on the floor. Because the only thing that pisses off Barnes and Noble more than stripping down to your skivvies in public is sitting on their floor. ‎
11. Put heels back on. ‎
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It was like watching a train wreck. Except more appropriate to laugh at because no one died.

christmas is assaulting my ears

No Pandora, I actually don't want to listen to Hillary Duff's Christmas hits, but thanks anyways.

if you like it then you should've put a ring on it

My left ring finger feels noticeably naked most of the time lately. I've been in long term relationships before and there was not even a second thought that something was missing. And I'm not referring to an age-induced belief or compulsion that I should be married by now. There's never been some kind of insistence on my getting married, from myself or others. Actually, my mother and I had a conversation years ago in which she insisted that there was no parental hopes for wedlock...just for happiness. If this happens to mean a marriage, then so be it, but I was told that I was to determine my own recipe for happiness. (As a side note, this is a rather awkward conversation to have with your parents when they've been happily married for over 25 years. I just kept wondering why she was so insistent on making this clear.) ‎
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The noticeable nudity of my left ring finger began a few months ago. It's like I can physically feel that something is missing, except that that something has never been there. I am a romantic, but am not unrealistic enough to automatically fall for this crap. However, it seems that from the moment I found the person that I would say yes to when asked that very special question, I have noted the absence on my left ring finger.

Perhaps it's a foreshadowing of the huge rock that will sit there one day?

Or maybe the beginning stage of Alien Hand Syndrome? Am I going to hell if I couldn't stop laughing while watching this?

nanowrimo has come and gone once again

It's really hard to write, whether it's just a blog or something more, when you're having a month or more long fit of self-loathing. Every word I put on a page just seems ridiculous and inadequate, as though I'm pretending I even have a right to be writing it in the first place. Perhaps if I have another glass of wine not only will the words will come spilling forth, but I'll actually approve of them.

Or maybe I'll just get drunk and fall asleep with my clothes on.

will someone please employ me before i die of boredom?

I could definitely never be content doing this housewife thing. Career woman? Maybe, maybe not. But I definitely need to have some sort of employment or a multitude of hobbies. I'm too ADD for this shit.