I Thought the Apocalypse Was Coming...

I just got a text from my brother. He's my younger brother who spent the first part of his life getting free meals at school from cute girls.  This has not changed much, except the cute girl buying his lunch is usually me.  I really would love to marry him off, but he has a thing for skanks, and I'm sick of my kids asking, "Why does Uncle M have so many girlfriends" or, "I didn't know they could make tattoos that big", or, "Don't they have dentists near her house?".  Seriously, I could go on for days.  Days, people.  One of the first girls he brought home waited for my mother to have a mouthful of mashed potatoes to tell us she used to work on the phone.  I asked, "Like at a call center?" and she's all, "Kinda.  It was phone sex."  Things have been pretty much going downhill since then.

The thing is, he's really awesome.  He's good-looking, gainfully employed full time, AND loves kids.  It's like an awesome dude trifecta. He has a horrifying sense of humor, which is definitely in the "Pro" column, and he fixes stuff like a champ.  And, he has no gang affiliations (that I know of). One of his few downsides would be his appreciation for classic rock. Some might find this a "pro", too though.

(I'm taking applications....if you are clean and respectable, love kids and have only a small amount of baggage, but dress like a hooker (or would be willing to try) we totally have to chat. You only have to pretend to be a skank long enough for him to fall for you-then you can reveal your wonderfulness to us all, thereby ensuring years of happiness for us all.  Big knockers would help, too.)

"Umm, you were going to tell us about the impending apocalypse...?"

Oh yes.  That. Where was I?  Oh yeah. Here is a text convo between me and my brother:

Uncle M: Hey, got any mason jars?
Me: Fresh out.  Why?
UM: Moonshine

(This is where I am sure the world is coming to an end.  Why, you ask? Because one of the signs of the apocalypse-I'm fairly certain-would be if my brother were to find Pinterest and get addicted, like I-and countless others-already have.  Pinterest is this amazing crack-like website where millions of women (and probably some men with a penchant for satchels murses) spend countless hours searching for ideas where almost everything in the world can be found, including recipes for tons of yummy seasonal snacks, homemade laundry detergent, table centerpieces, etcetera, all for pennies on the dollar.  And, about 75% of the recipes/crafts/ideas involve mason jars.  Which is why I am fresh out.)

Me: ahhh.  Nope, Sorry.
UM:Yeah, it tastes just like apple pie

(This is where I am torn between gathering more information, and running into the streets to avoid the impeding tsunami/asteroid/tornado of death. What are the chances he wants to make homemade moonshine WITHOUT the influence of Pinterest?)

Me: Sounds good!  Are you on Pinterest?
UM: No, why?
Me: :::deep sigh::: Cause that's the kind of crafty shit they would have there, "homemade apple pie moonshine" LOL
UM:Oh. No, my buddy makes it.


See?  The world is NOT coming to an end today.


All this, from a girl who put her panties on backwards, and took three trips to the potty to realize it.



Score today:
World: 1
Brother: 0 (sorry, Uncle M.  Just be glad it took this long to put you in my blog. I was running out of material, and, well, let's face it. You're nothing BUT material....)
Metrosexuals: 0
Skanks: 0 (good thing they can't read)
Me:1 billion for such an informative post about the apocalypse and Pinterest, as well as moonshine, minus 1 for the backwards panties

A Real Convo Between Me and Sky King

Him: What’s this? (referring to pile of pony beads on cookie sheet, next to pipe cleaners) Oh shit.  I don’t like the looks of this.

Me: What? (attempting to sound genuinely offended)

SK: I don’t want to have to clean this shit up later.

Me: What are you even talking about? I got it.

SK: Yeah, right. :::snort:::

Me: I do! Besides, it’s not that big of a mess. I used a tray.  Wasn’t this in our vows, “I promise to clean up after her, whether crafts projects, or verbal diarrhea”? 

SK: No.  But it should have been. I would have mentioned something like this, for sure.

Me: That’s what you get for waiting til the last minute. Point, me.

SK: :::walks away, crunching on his bowl of Christmas Crunch cereal, that I thoughtfully picked out:::

UPDATE: I cleaned it up all by myself. Color him surprised. Oh, and I made dinner, two desserts, and kept three kids from killing each other, or dying by my hand. Take THAT, Sky King!

NaBloPoMo Wrap-up

In November, I vowed to blog daily. I found that I had plenty to say, each and every day-so big surprise to those who know me, or read me, or both. But sometimes, blogging can feel like a chore, which defeated the purpose of using it as an outlet for stress, yafeelme? As Sky King would say, "Ya know, this daily blogging thing seems to be stressing you out, are you sure it's a good ideas?" to which I eloquently responded either with a middle finger complete with fancy nails, or a "Mind your own fucking business, thankyouverymuch".
But truly, I enjoyed it. I worked on some ideas I had been thinking of. Some stories that had been brewing. I got away from some of my health stuff which gets old, but still managed to intertwine my crazy usual life with some health stuff.  The point(s) of my blog has always been to be an outlet for me, hope to others who suffer, and possible hilarity for common- and not-so-common-folk. With of course the bonus of becoming ridiculously famous and wealthy, all as an "unexpected bonus"-which is hard to do when you expect it to happen. But I have mental health issues, so it's okay to be ironic, non ironically.

Did I achieve my goals? Well, I think I missed a day, while off traipsing around, running down slutty bitches at amusement parks.  I was busy making shit happen, people. I bet that stupid bitch won't push ahead of someone else on a mobility scooter any time soon.  Nor will her slutty mom. You're welcome, people with handicaps. Or people who are handi-capable. I don't know, I'm new to the lingo. And I guess I can't really call them "my people" with much confidence, you know, since I don't get the awesome parking.  But whatevs.

The post I missed was for the Tuesday of Thanksgiving week, and I had a Tuesday Tutorial about making a centerpiece with old mason jars, raffia, and buttons. And lots of glue. And ointment, for the burns. Hot glue is a tricky bitch.  But the photos look lame, and frankly, the craft was okay. Not spectacular, so maybe my subconscious saved me, by making me forget, thus NOT getting onto some crafter's blog that would mock me mercilessly, thus sending me into a deep depression in which I take out throngs of teens hanging out at a mall like emo bowling pins, all with my mom's scooter. I'm sure there is a blog that makes fun of crappy crafts, not Regretsy, but something where people just mock crafts, not crafts for sale.

OK, now I feel super bad. I missed like 4 days. But, I did days when I had more than one post. So does that even out? I dunno, and I don't math too good, so I will just close by saying, well, I hope you liked what I wrote, I hope it makes me rich, and I hope I get better at Thanksgiving centerpieces.

Peace out, my homies