mommy wars and veggie trays

ahhhh, life. so full of mysteries. life is riddled with timeless questions, questions that have plagued the collective human mind for centuries. you know, questions like: why are we here? what is the meaning of this thing called life? is reality just a dream? does god exist? what came first, the chicken or the egg? who is my secret santa? who stole the cookies from the cookie jar? who let the dogs out? why the hell do moms attack other moms over stupid shit that's really none of their business? and why the fuck am i always the one who brings the veggie tray to the potluck/party?


while i can't claim to have any definitive answers to these questions, i do have some opinions to share (i know, you're surprised).

oh wait, i do have one definitive answer to one of those questions. "who stole the cookies from the cookie jar?", you ask? it was probably the bulimic girl. just a guess. (i would know, i used to be one. i ate a shitload of cookies. just sayin'. :::shrug:::)

moving on.

nothing says "merry christmas" like mommy wars!



why the hell women can't seem to stop attacking one another for trivial shit is beyond me. i'm sure i'm not spewing any words of wisdom here when i say that being a mom is the hardest job anyone could ever undertake. neuroscience? heart surgery? PSHHHHH. CAKE compared to being a mom (here i am reminded of a wonderful gem of a lyric by my dear friend, lil wayne: "i got cake like everyday my birthday". werd. stay gangsta.)

i digress.

as i said, being a mom is a damn hard job. so here's a radical idea: how about we all support one another and encourage one another instead of cutting one another down for personal lifestyle choices, parenting styles, and other decisions that are really no one else's business? my favorite mommy wars battles are "the formula feeders vs. the breast milk moms" and "the anti-vax moms vs. the pro-vax moms". i'm all for sharing information. i'm certainly behind voicing your opinion, LOUD AND CLEAR. but is it necessary to verbally massacre a working mom who chooses to formula feed because that fits her lifestyle? or because she just doesn't want to breast feed? i have seen hardcore breast baby moms publicly humiliate formula feeding moms over this. i don't think that's necessary, productive, or anyone's business but the mom's and the baby's.  and if you get bitch slapped or sucker punched for acting like a first class penis wrinkle, i won't feel sorry for you. you asked for that by vomiting your unsolicited advice/opinion (read: attack) on another mom. 

and OH FUCK ME, the vax wars. listen, i don't care what you do. vaccinate, don't vaccinate, partially vaccinate -- it's all good in my book. just do your research, make an informed decision, and stick to your guns. and for the love of god, don't attack the other mom who chose to do something different with her kids. this is SUCH a personal decision and there is compelling research in support of both sides. sometimes you have to agree to disagree and just walk away. unless the other mom directly asks for your opinion, don't flame her. just shut the fuck up. 'cause you're being an ass.

there are a few exceptions to this rule. some mommies are kind of...well, creepy. like the ones who push their political views on their children and don't allow them to form their own opinions. these moms are creeptastic in a big way. exhibit A: the right wing parenting fail. there's no excuse for that shit. sorry. right wing, left wing, no wing, whatever. i love you all. just don't be a dumbass. 

finally, the veggie tray conundrum. i can't elaborate much on this. because i finally figured out the reason why i'm always the one who brings the veggie tray. pot luck? veggie tray. school party? veggie tray. new baby? hey, have a veggie tray.  death in the family? my condolences...and a veggie tray.

i'll admit it: i can't cook. or bake. and i don't want to poison you by attempting either of those grand feats (well, if i'm being honest, there may be a few of you i'd like to poison).

that's all i have to say about that. for now.

hey, the next post will be filled with christmas cheer! 

oh. one more thing. my lovely girl left of lost allowed me to grace her gorgeous blog with a guest post today! her blog is beautiful, and quite frankly SHE is beautiful. so get check out my guest post and the rest of her fabulous blog at a little left of lost.

new moon (take 1, 2, and 3)

if you look closely, you'll see pocket edward hanging out in my boobies!

so, as the title implies, i've seen new moon a total of three times so far.

let me start out by saying, this movie elicits several involuntary reactions from me, the first of which is moaning like a sex-crazed girl on the verge of bliss. that infamous "here comes robward (aka sex on legs) stalking towards you from his volvo in the high school parking lot" scene, it gets me every time. it got me all three times, to be more specific. i even tried stuffing a sock in my mouth for the third viewing. oddly enough, i think the sock only amplified my lusty moans. *shrug* what can i say? i know what i like, and i'm vocal about it. brazen hussy, remember? ;)

the premiere event in surprise, az (hosted by twifans.com and cullen boys anonymous) was banana-sandwich-crazy! apparently there were about 3,000 twihards in attendance. they had trivia, raffles, little gift bags, and they also arranged for kiowa gordon (who plays embry call, one of the wolfpack schmexies) to hang out at the theatre with 3,000 of his closest (boobie sporting) friends.


jeni and i just happened to be standing on the edge of the red carpet when kiowa arrived, and HOLY SHIT if i didn't almost cut a bitch (or like 10 bitches). within seconds of his arrival, there were elbows in my ribs, hands in my face, and blood pouring out of my ears as a hungry pack of hormonal female wildebeests shoved and screeched. those bitches were fierce. luckily, we didn't have to resort to violence and we also got to chat with kiowa for a minute as he stopped and signed our books and posed for pictures.



now, let's get something straight: kiowa is pretty. but not as pretty as rob (sorry dawg).

my second brush with kiowa was when we were seated in our theatre, waiting for the movie to start, and kiowa and his entourage (his brothers, one of which was kind of an ASSHAT) came into each theatre to intro the movie. jeni and i happened to be sitting in the row directly in front of where he stood to speak. at the end of his mini-speech, when the crowd was still quiet, i busted out with a LOUD "TEAM EDWARD!" to which kiowa responded by looking me straight in the eye and declaring, "EDWARD SUCKS! TEAM WOLFPACK!".

blah blah blah. sorry kiowa. this bitch is team edward for life.

i suppose i should rewind a bit and tell you how i ended up walking out of the theatre in a blanket. said blanket, who now lives on my bed, is very warm, very fuzzy, and came into my life pre-new-moon-screening that evening. how, you ask? well, the american red cross was on location at the premiere taking blood donations as part of the whole "vampire" theme. very clever, i must say. two points for you, american red cross, for cashing in on the twilight fever!

anyway, jeni and i decided to sign up and give blood. because we're really nice. well, jeni is nice. i'm kind of a bitch ;). anyway, all was swell for the first 10 minutes of the blood sucking procedure. i was chillaxin, talking to jeni, making friends, groovin' to the music, etc. all of a sudden, it hit me, out of fucking nowhere, i knew i was going to pass out. i was about 5 seconds away from passing out and there was not a damn thing i could do about it because, OH YEAH, this blasted fucking needle is sucking all of the blood out of my body! suddenly, i was feeling very selfish and decided i definitely needed my blood. ALL OF IT.

the american red cross blood suckers (who were very sweet, and kind of hilarious) immediately noticed that i was in a bit of trouble. i vaguely remember three or four them slapping ice cold towels on my chest and forehead, calling me "sweetie" repeatedly, pep talking me like i was giving birth, and blasting arctic temperature air directly at my face (they have these really convenient AC vents in the ceiling of the bus).

eventually i started to come back around, and since i was down a full pint of blood and still on the brink of unconsciousness, i was sorta fucking freezing. my teeth were chattering. in an obnoxiously loud manner.

that's when the fuzzy blue american red cross blanket and i became best buds. not only did i leave that donation bus with a purse full of snacks (nutter butters, oreos, and other generally unhealthy items), but i got a blanket out of the deal.

we donated blood BEFORE the movie, so i was fucking freezing for the entire film, and huddled in my blanket (looking like a psycho, no doubt). jeni snapped that lovely picture of me in said blue blanket on our way back to the car, post-new-moon-premiere, during which my teeth resumed their obnoxious chattering.

despite losing a pint of blood and probably chipping a few teeth from the violent teeth chattering, i still rocked those purple patent leather heels like a fucking champ ;).

also, pocket edward was in my boobies for a running total of 10 hours, so overall i'd say it was a "win" evening. especially for my boobies!

public service announcement (from my vagina)

just kidding. my vagina can't talk. yet.


this is just a quick note to say: please excuse my extended absence; i am currently experiencing repeated ass rapings courtesy of "real life". (pssshhhh, real life. what a joke.)

anyway.

this yoganinjamama promises to post your panties off this weekend with a new moon madness recap (fuckingFINALLY) and other goodies.

and also: I LOVE YOU. all of you. a lot. (even you, anonymous! you grumpy little wanker!)

post-new moon coma

i'm still recovering. i saw it twice. i moaned loudly during "the volvo scene" several times (sorry, robward does that to me.)


don't worry, i'll give you the play-by-play (complete with photos!) of my new moon premiere adventures soon (i know the suspense is killer); but for now, i leave you with this final photo of me from the opening night showing. i'll tell you later how i ended up in a fucking blanket.

i can't sleep because it's almost time for NEW (FUCKING) MOON!

so, it's 12:41 am. this time tomorrow night, i'll be sitting on the edge of my seat in a theatre making a mental note of the screaming teenies who might get a knuckle sandwich from yours truly watching NEW (fucking) MOON! i had to put the "fucking" in the middle, because it's the best way to illustrate the crack-high-like elation i'm experiencing at the thought of this. i say "fuck" a lot when i'm really excited. true story.

ANYWAY. i can't sleep. which is...not cool, since i have to be up at 4:30 to get myself and sagebug out the door on time and into the wonderful world of reality (which i'm still hoping doesn't really exist. i have this totally plausible theory that all the lame stuff in between the awesome stuff is just a boring dream.)

uhmmm, where was i?

oh yeah. NEW (fucking) MOON!

i've been ready for this shit since the day i was born. this must be the meaning of life, right? it sure as hell feels like it.

i'm a fan of lists, they help me function (and weed out all of the clutter in my brain. believe me, there's a shit ton of clutter in my brain). i make lists for just about everything in my life, and preparing for new moon was certainly no exception. this is serious business, folks.

yoga ninja mama's new moon checklist

1. movie tickets? check


2. least douchey twilight related clothing item? check


3. mild sedative to calm nerves when loud teenagers won't shut the fuck up during the movie? check (mini bottles of jack daniels :)


4. ipod loaded with twilight and new moon soundtracks for the drive to and from the theatre? check


5. extra pairs of panties to change into after experiencing multiple orgasms from seeing rob's body on a gigantic screen? check


6. fangs and bright red contacts? check


7. pocket edward (mini e)? check


8. at least one twitarded friend? check
   
9. ability to make rational/logical decisions, exhibit age appropriate behavior, and remain calm? non-existent in twilight bubble
   
10. sanity? ...what?

i'm ready! bring on the twihard army, complete with massive amounts of squeeing! will we make it out alive? it's anyone's guess. but if i die, at least i'll die in the noble pursuit of rob pattinson related media.

yoga ninja mama and VanityFair Rob makeout sesh!

sunday evening story time with yoga ninja mama: rob wants to touch me. i want to touch rob. kumabaya! hallelujah! life is awesome. the end.

O-FACE.

::waves:: bye!

brazen hussies

hey peaches. nice panties.

i'm a dirty bitch.

there, i said it. chances are, i'm not telling you anything that you don't already know, but sometimes it feels pretty damn liberating to put something down in a few plain and simple words. just so there's no mistaking the truth (especially if you're like me and you always go out of your way to make everything convoluted...whether you mean to or not ;).

i'm not ashamed of my dirty nature though. nope. in fact, i'm here to tell you that I'M CRASS, and i'm ok with that. one of my pet peeves is when i overhear (or i'm told) that something is "unladylike". ya know, when a woman talks about sex, flips someone the bird, uses any variation of the word "fuck", has a ballsy opinion, belches, etc. i'm not sure which misogynistic genius created the "unladylike" rule, or who decided what exactly constitutes an "unladylike" behavior, but i call bullshit. and i sure as fuck would like to belch in that person's face and then tell them all the raunchy details about my favorite sexcapade. (that's ladylike, right?)

last time i checked my super-secret-fuckhawt-robert-pattinson calendar, it was 2009, not 1816. correct me if i'm wrong, but women supposedly share the same liberties as men this century, no? women raise kids on their own, women buy vibrators and sparkle peens. and big ups to lady gaga for allowing us to be open about the fact that we want to "ride your disco stick". shit, we can even pee standing up. i, for one, think all signs point to FUCKAWESOME.

so, prudes ladies and gents, the next time you call me or one of my tata-sporting peers "unladylike", i'm going to smack you in the face with a sparklepeen and beat you over the head with a copy of "cunt: a declaration of independence".

capiche? ;)

(wordless wednesday) kstew: fiery, fierce, and fuckhawt

paper tiger.

the collective "SQUEE!" heard 'round the world

yeah, do your ears hurt from all the SQUEEING? mine are still ringing.


oh, shit. maybe that's because i was going BANANA-SANDWICH-FUCKING-CRAZY in my room at exactly 4:43 pm this afternoon when my twitter twin, miss shoe box, informed me that THE ROBSTEN SHIT HAS HIT THE FAN! (ok, she didn't really say that. what she did was IM me a link and instruct me, no less than five times in ALL CAPS, to "LOOK NOW! LOOK NOW! GOOOOOO!").


so i clicked. and then i died. of sheer joy. from the robsten love documented in paris today. are you ready for this? ARE. YOU. READY...?

photo from x17online.com, where you can find a shitload more pictures of this event. a shitload more than you ever need to see. one is good enough, unless you're a twicum guzzling whore like me. but in case you want more. go there.

click the photo above for BIG (and i do mean BIG). and feel free to zoom. 'cause, like miss shoe box said, "that's all kinds of noodle hands!". NOODLE HANDS. LOVEY DOVEY NOODLE HANDS! that's what those are.

excuse me, robsten haters and robsten doubters, could you please form a line "to the left, to the left", and drink your haterade together? 'cause you suck. and this is PROOF! PROOF, BABY!

*happiest-ninja-ever dance*

and i'm totes blaming the #robsten explosion for breaking my uber twitter this evening. not that i'm complaining. just sayin'.

....silence...

*FIST PUMP!*

halloween recap (better late than never *shrug*)

ok, i know, i'm way late with this. i'm slow. besides, like most of my fellow mamas, i feel like i have exactly 15 spare minutes that are truly mine in the course of any given day. and those are the 15 minutes at the end of the day; you know, the 15 mins right before before my body just decides it's had enough of being awake and i collapse and start drooling wherever i happen to be. sexy visual, right?

anyway. halloween was a blasty blast. sage, despite having been sick since weds night, wasn't running a fever anymore and was stoked about trick-or-treating, so i took him out with our neighbors for about 40 minutes. he's not really into candy -- he THINKS he is, but he usually takes one bite of the candybar or whatever it is and then declares he doesn't want it. so, while he thought getting candy was pretty cool, the most exciting part of the event was ringing doorbells. this kid is a future "ding dong ditch" champion, mark my words. BRING IT.

halloween cupcake with a 50 ft blob of neon green icing. mmmm!

after thomas the train was safely snuggled in bed, yoga ninja mama (disguised as a vampire cabaret girl) went out to play with the big kids:

fun was had by all! a few highlights:

1. "tammy from the streets" snorting a red jello shot ("tammy from the streets" = extremely intoxicated guy dressed as a female whore).

2. the staged chain saw massacre, during which i was clutching onto a friend's shirt so tightly that i nearly strangled him.

3. the hippie and the samurai fighting (which resulted in the samurai sword landing in the pool and sinking to a lonely death)

hooray for halloween! *happy ninja dance*

OME! it's halloween!

first of all, i'd like to be the first to announce that it's HOODIE SEASON in phoenix. oh wait, scratch that. it WAS hoodie season. for about four days. today, however, it's 90 degrees again. *sigh*. i'm putting my hoodie season post on the shelf until the real hoodie season makes its grand entrance *glares at mother nature*. during the sprinkling of chilly fall days we had recently, sage and i did manage to take a trip to mother nature's farm and visit their pumpkin patch.

what? don't act like you're surprised that i gawked and took a picture of the sheep with the BIGGEST BALLS ON THE PLANET. you don't see this shit every day.

next item on the agenda: HALLOWEEN! gah! it's my favorite holiday, hands. down. unfortunately, i haven't had a ton of extra time on my hands this year to get into the halloween spirit. usually i go all out with halloween crafts, a spooky movie marathon, a well thought out costume, etc. but this year? nada. i can't say that i can check any of those halloween rituals off of my list this year *sigh* *kicks self*.

the one thing i DID manage to do? get my hands on some fuckhawt volturi contacts. ahh, my twilight obsession. it bleeds into every aspect of my life. and i wouldn't have it any other way ;). i also have fangs, which will be on display at the halloween party i'm attending tonight, but here are the contacts:

happy volturi vamp

i-will-fuck-you-up volturi vamp

little bug has been sick with a fever and general flu-esque symptoms since weds night, but he's bounced back a bit today and his fever seems to have broken for the most part. so thomas the tank engine will be out trick or treating tonight, i'm happy to say. it would break my heart if he were too sick to go, as he's really been looking forward to it. photos to come, natch ;). oh and if you're in the mood for some stellar halloween music (and how could you not be? HELLO! IT'S HALLOWEEN!), do yourself a favor and make your way over to the music savvy mom blog. you can thank me later!

oh, and i've already picked out my costume for next year:

vaginaaaaa! check out more awesome vagina costumes at wtfcostumes.

ok pretty bitches, i'm off to get vamped up whilst listening to some kickass halloween music. be safe and have fun, lovelies!

the monsters of folk show: a two hour musicgasm

i'm not sure i can find the words to adequately describe how incredible this show was. my head is still in the clouds and my feet are still tapping. we were 15th row center and it was gorgeous. the orpheum theatre is a beautiful place by itself, but when conor oberst, m. ward, jim james, and mike mogis are on stage together, prepare to be mindfucked straight out of your skull.

they played a solid 2.5 hours. they played monsters of folk tunes, old/new bright eyes numbers, m. ward lovelies, and my morning jacket lullabies.

it's safe to say that throughout the entire show, my smile was so big that it was eating my face. my cheeks are sore from the constant smiling. luckily, emilie is well accustomed to the strange reactions i have when conor oberst is in close proximity. so she wasn't alarmed.

(em, i've never seen a conor/bright eyes show without you, and if i can help it, i never will. oh wait, ok, there was that one time when bright eyes played at the celebrity theatre with jesse sykes. i went alone. i think you were in indiana that night.)

anyway. since words are obviously failing me, here are a few photos:

after the show, i drove em back to her car, and we stumbled upon this masterpiece right next to modified arts. i don't know this joe pagac guy, but i'd like to give him a big wet kiss for painting this mural. when we saw it, i made loud noises from the car as we were driving by, then we parked and i dragged emilie around the corner with me to take pictures. she puts up with me, isn't she sweet? ;)



after she took this picture, i made out with the wall. after two glasses of wine and a show full of fantastic musicgasm fuckery, i just couldn't help myself *shrug*.

i have a ticket stub and photos and beautiful music in my head. now all i need is the set list. *runs away to search internet*

new kicks

hipster moms rejoice! i give you: sage's first pair of converse.

well, that's sort of a lie. his first pair were traditional chuck taylor hi tops. but that was awhile ago, and he was still in that "i'm a baby and i grow at the speed of light" phase, so he only got to wear them two or three times before they had to be retired to the box.

anyway, when i brought these bad boys home the other night, sage was beside himself with excitement. he loves them. and so do i. everyone wins.

you are the roots that sleep beneath my feet and hold the earth in place

i wrote this about two weeks ago, but stuffed it away in my 'drafts' folder. i wasn't sure about it. but i want to post it, because there are few things in my life as simple and as true as this.

***

i spent the weekend grueling (and mumbling expletives) over an essay for my lit class.

i wasn't happy about writing it. i love to write, and i thoroughly enjoy reading, but i wasn't thrilled with d.h. lawrence's "the rocking-horse winner". i only had to read it once to file it neatly away under the "boring and irrelevant" folder in my mental filing cabinet of literature that i both love and loathe.

i turned the paper in tonight. after i got home and poured myself a (big fucking) glass of spanish red wine, it hit me. all of a sudden, i felt the delicious, overwhelming weight of absolute gratitude. i don't know what spurred this web of thought. but suddenly i was very aware of the cruel reality of the mother from lawrence's story. if you haven't read the story, let me tell you about the mother, hester. hester was a woman who was blessed in many ways (the house, the kids, the husband, the hired help), but she was never satisfied, because she was entirely consumed by her obsession for more. more money, more material possessions, more social status trophies, more money, more money, more money. hester's obsession left no room in her heart for anything but her futile pursuit of obscene wealth. she could not love her children, she could not appreciate her life, and she could not feel gratitude at all. there's an eerie supernatural, perhaps evil undertone to the story, and ultimately the obsession ends up killing one of hester's children.

i suppose i read the story so many times over the weekend, in an attempt to perfect the essay (note to self: perfection is still overrated and always will be), that i missed the underlying emotion i was feeling.

tonight it hit me. i am so fucking grateful for sage's bright smile, his curious mind, and his overflowing heart. sage is my favorite person in the entire world. sometimes when i see his face light up, i have to pinch myself to remind me that he's real. and he's mine :).

it's no secret that i love bright eyes and any project that conor oberst touches ('cause whatever he does is fucking fabulous. even his poop is a smelly work of art. serious.) this is one of my favorite bright eyes songs. i can't listen to it without a few stray tears trickling down my cheeks.

sagebug, this song is yours. and so is my heart.

life in a snow globe (not as pretty as it should be)

i feel like my life is a snow globe, and someone just keeps shaking the fuck out of it.


it's a cluster fuck in here and i can't see my hand in front of my face.


holding my breath until friday, when this week comes to a close and i can finally sit down and post something of substance.

<3

*sings* you're gonna need a body bag/i'll break bones you didn't know you had

i feel a little guilty writing a bitchface-rant blog post on gandhi's birthday. *looks up at sky* sorry dawg. but it must be done. *bows head for moment of silence in gandhi's honor*.

...silence...is it awkward yet?

ok, now on with the bitchfest!

this week was a big fucking test for my patience. i had repeat moments all week of the "shit-hit-the-fan-and-here-comes-a-breakdown" feeling. you know, the feeling that starts in your chest, and then sets your face on fire, and then (in my case) your entire body erupts into a soundtrack of earth shattering sobs? pretty awesome feeling. let's just say, i'm thanking my lucky stars for red wine, ice cream, and my TwiVulgarBitches (here's lookin' at you, @ashnanphillips, @buhbeesgirl, @meggsT, and @twisisterhood).

let's examine my favorite moments from this past week, shall we?

1. toddler throws epic shit fit (this was a repeat occurrence this week). my favorite episode was the one where i picked him up from school, buckled him in the car, hopped into my seat and started to drive away from the school. from the backseat i hear the bug, "mama, i forgot my backpack." naturally, i respond, "it's ok honey, it's in your cubby and you can get it tomorrow morning." and i keep driving. BIG FUCKING MISTAKE. i should've turned back around. 'cause toddler proceeded to scream, cry, and attempt to ninja his way out of his car seat. THEN (and this is where i almost lost my shit), he takes his shoes off and throws them at me while i'm driving.


2. i'm driving along, it's about 6:30 am, i'm singing along to the random-as-fuck rotation that my ipod has chosen for me. i decide to switch lanes, so i signal, and start to move over slowly. i'm HALFWAY INTO THE NEXT LANE, when some ugly bitch mcbitchface in a lexus speeds up from the other lane and comes barrelling at my rear end at a speed that is really unnecessary during rush hour traffic. even though i'm already halfway into the lane, i guess she decided at that exact moment that it would be a good idea to switch lanes going 90,484 miles per hour. so she almost rams right into the back of me and honks her horn all crazy like whilst doing it. BITCH MC.BITCHFACE. i hope a dog poops on your shoes. i hope a drunk guy pisses on your purse. i hope you accidentally sit down in a pile of chunky, smelly vomit.

3. this is my FAVORITE. this takes the fucking cake. a little back story is necessary on this one. this past spring, bug and i moved into an apartment with my (now ex) boyfriend. since he has no ambition and he's stupid and lazy and relies on his mommy to pay all of his bills (at 25), things didn't work out. because, really, i can only handle so much bullshit from a grown man.

when we broke up, we decided to break the lease on our apartment and go our separate ways. naturally, we decided we'd split the payment to break the lease (which was about $1600). the date to pay rolls around, and i hand in a check for my half. douchey mc.doucheface ex-boyfriend doesn't pay his half. he skips town and goes back to ohio to live with his mommy, since she's a pushover and pays all of his bills.

a month goes by. i get a "final notice to pay" letter from the apartment complex. i send a very cordial email to douchey mc.doucheface ex-boyfriend, and CC his mommy (since she'll probably be the one paying). i do not hear anything back. another month goes by. i fwd the original email with a simple request: "hi guys, please read and respond asap." guess fucking what? i hear nothing from either one of them. apparently, stupidity and irresponsibility run in the fucking family.

i knew it was only a matter of time before the collections leeches came for me. in the past two weeks, i've received a few voicemails from them. then today, i get an email from them, advising me that i've got 10 days to pay them or they're going to "file a claim against my performance bond". i kindly respond and tell them that i'm in the process of filing a lawsuit against the other tenant, and that the debt will be settled in court. collections leeches respond less than an hour later and, in a nutshell, they tell me that the pending lawsuit doesn't matter and payment is still required within 10 days or they're going to feed me to lindsay lohan.

so now, i'm pissed. i'm heated. i want to buy a plane ticket to ohio, hunt down douchey mc.doucheface ex-boyfriend, and slap him in the face repeatedly with a dirty herpes-infected dildo.

i decide to unleash the snarky on the collections leeches. so this is the exact email i sent back to them:

Hi ladies,

Unfortunately, I don't have an extra $900 in my couch coushins, my piggy bank, or an illegal offshore bank account. Further, since I'm not a stripper or a prostitute, and I'm against selling my only child into human slavery on the black market, the chances of me acquiring $900 within the next 10 days is highly unlikely. I'll pray really hard and see if God drops anything on my doorstep though. If you have any constructive ideas on how to make $900 in two weeks, feel free to let me know. And Ill be sure to let the judge know how badly your corporation needs the $900.00 :).

Kindest regards,

yoganinjamama


P.S.
EAT A DICK

(ok, i didn't include the p.s. but i was thinking it.)

sisterpants is finally legal, and we step out for lunch with the lovely tara o

sisterpants. i know, she's fucking cute.

my gorgeous baby sister (aka sisterpants) turned 18 on friday. that little fucker is finally legal. i can't believe it. seems like just yesterday i was picking her up by her hair (yeah, i really did that once), making fun of her for wearing a rugrats bra, and eating the walls off of her gingerbread house just to piss her off. *nostalgic sigh*

i'll have to wait until next paycheck to shower her with useless material things ('cause i'm broke, as per usual) but i plan on getting her a fascinations gift card ('cause she's finally old enough to go to a raunchy sex store) and a brightly colored, sparkly dildo. ya know, embarrass the shit out of her. i hope she opens it in front of a shitload of people *evil giggle*. she got a few free piercings at HTC yesterday (they have an ongoing special where they offer three free piercings on your 18th birthday). she also enjoyed some after hours birthday festivities last night, and when she woke up this morning, i got a text that said (verbatim): "lauren...i feel like i died and got hit by a bus". oops :)

sagebug and i had lunch with tara o. today. tara o. and i don't see each other enough these days since she bought a house in BFE (that's butt fucking egypt, FYI), so it was about damn time i saw her pretty face again. tara is a wonderful photographer, a lovely lady, a genuine friend, AND she makes some kickass vegan chocolate chip pancakes to boot (ask bug, he swears by them). you can check out tara o.'s photography here, and if you're in the phoenix area you should absolutely book a shoot with her. she is incredible.

before i depart for the evening (to read smutty twilight fanfic), i'd like to share with you a FAIL moment that i experienced friday morning. friday morning was a little intense. i awoke with a start at 6:00 am, which is when i usually LEAVE THE HOUSE for work (normally i'm up at 4:30 am). i scrambled through a shower and a cup of coffee (at the same time. i was definitely drinking the coffee WHILE showering) and made it out of the house at 6:40 am in clothing that was only semi wrinkled. i glanced in the rear view mirror when i hopped in the car and, HOLY SHIT, i was having a really great hair day! shocking. EXCITING. i decided i needed a photo of said great hair day to remind myself that i am capable of looking halfway decent somtimes. but, alas, instead i experienced a PHOTO FAIL. since i leave for work driving eastbound, the sun can sometimes be a bit of an issue:

fuck you, sun! life ruiner!

mmmk. off to read twi fanfic. currently reading: the boy with the red sweater (just started this one), emancipation proclamation, and clipped wings and inked armor.

forced to live like it's a curfew / translation: it means i love you

sagebug and i are headed to macalpine's diner for lunch with the lovely miss tara o.

i have things to post, but i guess i'll have to find some time for that later (you know, like when i'm really busy avoiding my homework ;).

for now, this:

an uptempo version of "major label debut" by broken social scene. the video has some neat tour footage. this song makes my heart dance. literally. i can feel it fluttering around. and then my feet start moving, and my head starts bopping, and before i know it i'm out of my chair jumping around.

when i saw them at coachella in 2004, there was a beautiful marriage proposal on stage, and from thousands of people echoed a collective "awwww!". you know hipsters are suckers for that shit. anyway, this band makes me ecstatic. enjoy it (preferably in a loud fashion :).

one more reason to love conor oberst

aren't you glad you don't have to deal with me in public, like my poor friend dana? ;)

dearest conor oberst: please stop being such a cute boy genius and turning me on with your schmexy scrawny boy genius ways.

conor can't help but tempt me in naughty, delicious, torturous ways, which is obviously why he teamed up with fellow schmexy genius boys m. ward, jim james, and mike mogis to create the masterpiece of fan-fucking-tasticness that is this band:

monsters of folk (in all their sexy folk glory)

instead of doing my homework, or other productive things on my 'fucking do this shit, like yesterday' list, i'm eating ice cream and drooling over this lovely album, just released yesterday, for the sole purpose of tugging on my cold black hearstrings.

OH. did i mention that the gorgeous miss m and i have tickets for the monsters of folk show on october 21? *shit eating grin*. it should be noted here that there is no one on this beautiful planet that i'd rather see this show with. my skin tingles just thinking about it. *does cartwheels*

in twilight related news (because we all know that a large chunk of my world is consumed by all things twilight), the radiant screen writer goddess diablo cody made my evening with this little twitter gem:

dear ms. cody: *high five* awesome twat! (i really just like having an excuse to say TWAT).

i had a lot to talk about

but then i started drinking fat tire.

and it was all downhill from there.

in spite of my moderately tipsy state, there ARE a few really important things that i need to get off my chest.

first, i got new shoes. i love them so much, i'd definitely have sex with them if i didn't think it would be painful. but i'm guessing it would be kinda painful. sharp objects and my hoo-hah don't really get on very well. at any rate, they are probably the prettiest things i've seen since rob pattinson's (porn worthy) jaw and expertly tousled (sex) hair.

second, i happened upon a monstrosity in my mailbox recently: a new issue of "entertainment earth", with a lovely cover photo of the soon-to-be-released and highly anticipated edward and bella barbie dolls from none other than the anorexic propaganda machine itself, MATTEL! oh, HEAVENS! how exciting! WELL, at first, it was a glorious sight. my face, well, i'm pretty sure it lit up like a fucking christmas tree. instant replay:

(don't you wish your girlfriend was HOT like me? DON'TCHA?)

i'm a little ashamed to admit this, but i pre-ordered these barbie dolls about 3 or 4 months ago. no, i'm not kidding. and i didn't just pre-order the set of two. there's a special edition set that comes in a case, with two edwards and one bella. nope, still not kidding

be gentle with me. i still struggle with the fact that i fronted my hard earned cash for mattel products. further, i can't remember any point in my life when i had the desire to purchase or own a barbie doll. in fact, i used to pop their heads off when i was just a wee girl. my friends did not appreciate this. then, in high school, i took a bunch of barbie heads (can't remember where i got them. i was probably high when i did this, so that would explain why i can't remember where the fuck they came from) and gave them punk/new wave haircuts (with mod podge and glitter and markers), and then i hung them from my ceiling with push pins and fishing line.

like i said, there's a 98.43895743% chance that i was high when that went down.

anyway, when i got over my initial hissy fit of epic proportions, my face slowly contorted into something that looked a lot like this:

what in the FUCK is wrong with edward's face? what? you need a close-up, you say? no problem. happy to oblige.

this is not the face of my edward cullen, the hot vampy mess that gives me wet dreams. W.T.F. mattel, you done us dirty. DIRTY. DIR-TY.

and bella, you ho, the zipper on your jacket is bigger than your waistline.

dear mattel: suck my left tit (it's the one with the nipple piercing. 'cause the other one fell out.)

CHEERS!

right wing parenting FAIL

"you brain-washing, democratic, scary black president, how dare you tell my sweet republican four-year-old to stay in school! my trust fund baby doesn't take orders from a DEMOCRAT!"

dear shanneen barron (mom #1): first of all, you have elf ears. you should cover that shit up on national television. i'm just sayin'. second of all, what? stop crying. DRAMA RAMA. how old are you? twelve? p.s. your husband totally laughed at you when you started crying. HAHA!

dear uptight j.crew tshirt mom (mom #2): you look tense. go smoke a blunt. your husband just looks mute. he's probably scared to talk. you should let him hit that blunt a few times.

in my humble (but very brazen) opinion, these women are a little trashy, very narrow-minded, extremely controlling, and dare i say, DRAMATIC.

i don't really fucking care who you voted for. in fact, let's just say, for the sake of remaining neutral in this post, that i didn't vote for obama OR mccain. i voted for jesus. and satan. because they're the only ones who can save us now. for reals.

the most disturbing aspect of this entire uproar from conservative right wing parents is that their very emotional political opposition to the president is posioning their children. god forbid you'd teach your child to process information and form an educated opinion of their OWN. oh no no, better to make them drink your kool aid (whatever flavor it happens to be). why stop at withholding your kid from school? how about you hoof it down to the library and burn all the books you don't like.

this comes down to your child's EDUCATION. this isn't about politics. i believe the intent of the president's speech was to encourage kids to stay in school and be upstanding citizens. i don't know, maybe there was a secret hypnosis session after the speech that i'm not privy to, where obama spoon fed his position on complicated political issues to the little tots. in that case, well, that's just creepy.

finally, you know what REALLY makes me want to punch these people in the throat? they are teaching their children how to hate and pass judgement without merit. they are furthering the disgusting, senseless political divide that separates the world and fuels wars and greed and other nasty things.

EPIC PARENTING FAIL.

but i bought you beautiful dresses/you pretty thing

one of my favorite pj harvey songs. whenever i hear it it's hard to resist stomping/spinning around in circles in some kind of freaky tribal dance. or having a seizure (to the beat, of course). perhaps this has something to do with my pure lust for the song, but there's something about putting on a new dress (or an old dress with which i have a fierce love affair) that makes me feel like i could probably kick chuck norris's ass. that's sayin' somethin.

i bought this one on a whim the other day, and i think i like it because it makes me feel like punky brewster. and because it reminds me of the twilight cast and all of the fucking plaid they ALL seem to be wearing lately. weird. secretly, i like to pretend it's made out of the same fabric that rpattz's favorite plaid shirt is made out of. not only the same fabric, but the same PIECE of fabric. ya know, like one of these sexy little beauties (thatidlovetoripoffofthatsexymanbody):

photo courtesy of robmyworld.com

ok, clearly, it is not the same fabric. which is why god blessed me with insanity an explosive, creative imagination so i can dream up creepy rob fantasies and shit.

err. this post was supposed to be about dresses (damn you, ROB! you sexy british morsel! *licks computer screen*).

so back to the point.


here are a few lovely gems that i'm desperately hoping to get my grubby little hands on. SOMEDAY. ya know, when i have money. *snort*

bustling avenues dress from anthropologie

storm of shapes dress from anthropologie

walk-a-ways dress from anthropologie

cupcake dress from urban outfitters

sparrows tank dress from urban outfitters



le sigh. LE SIGH. lovely lovely dresses, no?

OH, i almost forgot. you know what goes perfectly with my punky brewster-ish/rob pattinson plaid dress? these fucking peace sign earrings that i snagged at francesca's. oh how i do love an appropriately placed peace sign (like the tattoo on my toe). and oh how i love these earrings!