Weekend Update

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We’re back from Camp Spooner and, surprisingly, no one lost a limb or any brain functions that are essential for human existance. This weekend was one of those strange weekends where although fun was had by all, there was a certain amount of uncomfortable squirming.

After a good Friday night out, Trent and I drug our hungover, slightly stanky behinds out of bed and hopped in the car for a trip to good ole’ Council Grove, Kansas, population 7. My parents run their global empire of home shopping networks and space station experiments from their cabin at Council Grove city lake. Because of our affinity for drinking HEAVILY, we were a wee bit late, but damnit, we had to go on a beer run BEFORE SURRENDURING TO THE HORROR OF THE PARENTS. Just to keep everyone up to speed, Trent & I drank a total of 20 Bud Lites, 12 Boulevard Wheats and 4 fruity Segrams drinks during our 23 hours at the lake. But to be fair, my dad drank at least 4 of our drinks (I would’ve said beers, but I definetly saw him drinking a Segrams), so it’s really not as bad as it sounds.

Other than the fact that my parents think we’re raging alcoholics now, the trip was mostly a success. Trent narrowly dodged the dreaded “marriage question” from my dad, and my mother was, very much to our amazement, funny and nice to both of us. Seriously. We even got her to watch 2 episodes of Penn & Tellers Bullshit. Granted, she talked through most of it and winced in extreme pain everytime the word FUCK was uttered, but that is to be expected. We made it through the ENTIRE WEEKEND without a mention of how much they want to disown me. Incredibly. Of course, my brother’s antics as of late probably have convinced them their daughter “living in sin” isn’t that big of a deal. Hey, at least I have a job, right? And, as of this moment, I have yet to be arrested. Reach for the stars, kids.

Now we are returned home, to jobs and a mountain of laundry that I’ve been putting off for about 10 weeks. So instead of catching up on housework while Trent (who has been Mr. Wonderful lately, doing all sorts of chores while I lay on my ass watching Friends reruns) is out getting groceries, going to the hardware store, and basically being an all-around bad-ass, I’m drinking a vodka and OJ (70% to 30%) while I update my blog. Do you see what I do for YOU PEOPLE?!

I have to go. Nanny 911 is on.

Critics make me barf

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Once upon a time there was a young girl who was starting a new chapter in her life. She thought she had it all; a great job, a loving boyfriend, good friends and endless dreams for the future.

Then she woke up, went to the job she loathed with all of her being, listened to a crazy, old lady talk about her cats for 8 hours strait, came home and watched reruns of Friends for 3 hours, got drunk alone on a bottle of wine and then passed out on her bathroom floor.

Now, the one great thing about the second senario is that it made for easy topics on this here Internet blog site. The first senario, though a bit overstated, is just not as funny to write about. Somewhere in all of this writing, I thought, “Maybe I shouldn’t write things about people I couldn’t (or wouldn’t) say to their faces.” Again, thanks Dooce. But apparently, this philosophy has deeply saddened some of my readers.

Obviously, I don’t have that many readers here at crazybananas dot com, but the few I have are getting their pantys all in a twist (Hi Heath!) over the lack of cynical bullshit writing in the last few weeks. Apparently, I’ve only had one post worth reading since I switched jobs, so I’d like to give thanks to gay, hispanics who dream of recreating that loving feeling.


The two cynics in bitchier times…

Personally, I think these critics (Hi Heath!) are just sad bastards who are bored at work and are pissed they don’t have anything to read, or anyone to bitch with. As promised, I won’t say anything on this site I wouldn’t say to your face (Hi Heath!). But I do understand their pain. The world of a person who is so intelligent and completely underutilized and bored out of his or her mind is complete crap. Until three weeks ago, this was me. Poking my eyes out. With dull pencils. Drunk. On the floor. Of the bathroom.

And this is still me. I still want to shove dull objects through my skull several times a day. Not just because of work though. Add in the CEO of QVC and a dog that is the equivilant of 2-year-old child who drinks out of the toilet or my constant frustration with my Bearded companion, and BRING ON THE CYNICISM!

Trust me, after this weekend at the lake with our regional CEO and the brain of NASA (known to civilians as my parents) AND the Bearded Wonder, I should have PLENTY to write about.

In your eyes…

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The boy bought me flowers. He’s a nice boy. I think I’ll keep him.

I just had to post this to show how much of an attention whore the dog is. “Can I be in the picture? Please? I won’t eat a tampon for a month! I promise!”

He also cleaned the ENTIRE HOUSE! It is rare that you can actually see the top of this table. I figure nothing’s real until you share it with all of your closest friends on the Internet. So here it is, Internet! The top of my coffee table. Trent is hereby considered the Best Boyfriend with a Beard in the Kansas City metro area! And possibly, all of the KCTV 5 broadcast region!

Amber’s worst fear.

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“Ummmm, Jake? Hi. There is a hairy man trying to lick me. Yes. Yes, I know it’s weird. Well, what do you want me to do?! I feel very uncomfortable here. I think I may have to use my taser gun.”

My apologies.

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The shitty thing about a brand-spanking new job is when it’s amazing and awsome and fun and you get good vibes from all your co-workers and you actually enjoyed going to work you no longer have anything funny to tell all of your closest friends on the Internet. I’m sorry Internet. I wish I could say that my new job made me want to vomit all over my desk and call the Suicide hotline, but it doesn’t. I was officially home at 5:15 without the ever-present urges to poke my eyes out with a dull, unsharpened pencil. Gee, I’ll miss the misery.

Actually, I WILL NOT FUCKING MISS THE MISERY! I’M FREE AT LAST! HOLY HELL!

OK, I’ve now taken a shot of whiskey and calmed myself a bit. As mentioned above, the new job is the absolute SHIT! Though I’ve never been more tired in my life thanks to Mr. Tom Petty, The Heartbreakers and the evil Verizon Amphetheatre Parking bonanza, I was up a bit later than usual. Some people may say it was irresponsible for me to go to a concert where just entering the venue implies an immediate contact high. To those people I’d like to say, kiss my dog’s hairy ass. Let’s just leave it at that.

If you’ve ever wanted to know what massive amounts of blond hair does at high velocities…

Jeeps. Fun, but bring a hat.

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