Tiny car probs

Being an idiot, I purchased a small hatchback (brand new, full price. obvi) a few years ago thinking that tiny cars were the future and that it wouldn’t’ really be that inconvenience since everyone was going to be driving them soon. I was wrong.

I bought her fresh off of a divorce, so why I didn’t purchase something with a little more cojones is a whole other mystery. Nothing says “My heart is pudding and I hate myself” quite like a two door lawnmower. Again, living in a large city, it seemed fairly convenient to have a whip that I could literally park anywhere. Small parallel parking space, front lawn, cart return at target. Anywhere.

I named her Nugget

I named her Nugget

Then I moved to Montana. The land where kamikaze elk rule the road, and you are flooring it daily to not be crushed by the logging trucks that rule the highway. I didn’t even know my car could go 65 mph before I moved here… Anyway, my friend Erin, posted something on Facebook about a smart car cutting her off, and I truly can’t even grasp that (My car is literally smaller than a pony, and I wouldn’t dare tango with a Camry). I really should install a GoPro in the nugget because I fear my conversations (with myself) would go something like this:

 “That really big deer is lingering around my car again… Maybe if I give him five more minutes he will run away.”

“Well, shit. Big deer is still there. Hmm… Maybe if I flash my porch lights it’ll scare him. Nope. Nopenopenope it just got his attention. Deer can’t open doors can they?”

“Ok, big deer is gone! (Or hiding so he can hoof me to death) Better make a run for it.”

“Ok, ready to rock!”

“Is my car even on? It’s not making any noise…”

“I wonder if I stomped really hard on the floor boards, I could Flintstone my ass to work. Take that environmental hippies!”

“Do I need gas? No, I bought it two months ago, we are good.”

“Faaack, there’s a SUV behind me… Yup, get right on my ass, because that will make me go faster. I clearly control the speed limit, sir.”

“Ooops. I think big SUV can tell I am angry. Don’t only drug dealers drive Escalades?! OMGOMGOMG I am going to be on the news… Be cool. Be. COOL.”

“Technically this flower garden isn’t a parking spot, but who will know, right? I’m just running inside to grab a quick coffee. In and out. Real quick, like a bunny.”

“If I could just back up out of this spot and see the cars on the road before they are firmly planted into my trunk, that’d be super.”

“Yup, I’ll just sit here as you angrily flip me off, Mr. Bike Peddling Bastard. Truly cannot see you when you weave between the vehicles since I am only four feet off the ground. My bad.”

“They see me rooLLLIN’.. They haaaatinnNNnn'”

“Hello, Mr. Semi-truck man, perhaps you could juuuuuust use your blinker and merge without smashing into me like I‘m not here? Nope? Nope. Sorry for asking. SO sorry. Sorry I didn’t realize you can’t see me down here. SORRY!!” I’m awkward… Sorry.” Take the lane. Take all the lanes.”

“I am actually passing another car?! This never happens! I am invincible!!!! Wheeee!!”

I am duct taping my phone onto my dashboard to actually record my private car conversations. I bet I’m not too far off.

The communists are in the fun house

Know what’s super fun? Getting your period the same day as a beach date, that’s’ what. Therefore, I give you:

50 things I think of every time I am on the rag.


  1. Fairly confident I had my period two weeks ago.
  2. Yeah, it was two weeks ago! Who changed their fucking birth control cycle? I bet it was that bitch down in accounting. Goddamnit.
  3. I guess this explains that cluster of mystery zits.
  4. My gas could kill a water buffalo
  5. Ugh, I can’t even button my jeans.
  6. Can I wear sweats to work? This pair has a nice “fancy slacks” feel to them.
  7. I am out of full-butt underwear
  8. Do I even own full-butt underwear
    1. Yes, I do. My Nana bought me some for my birthday (not even joking)
  9. OMGOMGOMGOMG pantie lines
  10. I hate everything
  12. Why does my uterus hate me?
  13. Is that where my period is? The uterus?
  14. Let’s play a game called, “how many Tylenol I can take before I overdoes”
  15. Why doesn’t anyone love me?
  16. I am going to die alone.
  17. CHOCOLATE!!!
  18. Where the fuck are my tampons?
  19. Oh great, only the light cycle ones. Perfect for this undercarriage flood I’m having.
  20. I wonder if this is what it feels like to have sex with a Chinese guy.
  21. Is this road rage, or is this hormones?
  22. I forgot the tampons at home. Can I borrow one from the receptionist? She already thinks I am crazy, so this will be par for the course.
  23. Maybe I should just drive to the store and get some. I can take an early lunch at 8:35am, right?
  24. OMG, while I am out, I can get a few cheeseburgers
  25. HANGRY
  26. It’s ok. I’ll just ask the receptionist. Be cool.
  27. Well, she doesn’t have any. Off to the next office.
  28. Now everybody knows I have my period
  29. Is it a bad thing I’m on the rag?
  30. At least I am not pregnant.
  31. Wait, when is the last time I had sex? Pretty sure you can be preggers and get your period….
  32. What about those women who don’t know they’re knocked up and have their baby in a toilet.
  33. I can’t believe I am going to be a single mother.
  34. This is all so sudden.
  35. Oh hey! The candy dish is full!
  36. Just kidding, not anymore.
  37. The new guy is eyeballing me.
  38. Can he sense my menstruation?! Does he want to mate with me because I am fertile?
  39. I should just ask him out, right? He’s obviously digging the vibe I’m throwing down.
  40. Oh, maybe he is staring at me because I am inhaling the candy dish like a wildebeest…
  41. I am never going to date again.
  42. He just said “hey” to me.
  43. We are soul mates.
  45. Seriously, it’s like the wall of death.
  46. I hate being a woman
  47. If I were a man, I could piss standing up
  48. How many years until menopause?
  49. Jesus fuck, my toots are awful.
  50. I wonder if the candy dish has been refilled….

You’re welcome.

My heart just took a dump


A special reminder for all of those late to the party, Ryan Gosling is having a baby… and it’s not with you. It’s not like his Grade A loins are off the meat market, but your chances of scrogging him have most certainly dwindled.

If you listen closely, you can hear the sound of a million vagina’s crying. Mine probably won’t leave the house for days.



Good Luck Taking a Shit This Week- Macaroni ‘N’ Cheese


Today is Saturday, so that obviously means running a train on Season 3 & 4 of Sons of Anarchy, and being far too hostile to have any sort of human contact. I’ve deduced that violent biker TV and low blood sugar does not pair well, so I wanted to share my favorite comfort/ let’s not cut a bitch today recipe.


Macaroni ‘N’ Cheese

Serves 4: or 1 emotionally stable young lady



1 lb macaroni noodles.

6 tbs white, unbleached flour

1 ½ tsp paprika

½ tsp onion powder

½ tsp garlic powder

2 tsp salt

1 tsp black pepper

1 tsp white vinegar

¼ cup butter made from the tears of Dutch virgin milkmaids

4 cups milk

2 cups grated sharp cheddar cheese

8 ounces cottage cheese

8 oz sour cream

8 oz cubed cream cheese

16 oz cubed Velveeta (Supper happy I bought that emergency brick of Velveeta. Like, super.)



Preheat your oven to 350F.

  1. Cook your macaroni according to the packages directions (Or not, do whatever you want. I don’t give a shit.) and drain.
  2. In a medium saucepan, over medium-low heat, melt your butter.
  3. Add the flour and give it a little stir.
  4. Add your milk, and stir occasionally to keep from scorching.
  5. When thickened, add your salt, paprika garlic powder, onion powder, pepper and vinegar.
  6. Throw your Velveeta in there. Mix that shit up.
  7. Toss in the sour cream. Mix, mix.
  8. Add the cottage cheese and the cream cheese. Mix until everything is nice, creamy and thick. *giggidy*
  9. Grab a casserole dish, and spray the absolute shit out of it with nonstick spray.
  10. Fling the macaroni noodles in the dish.
  11. Pour your saucy mix over the noodles and toss it all around. Get that sauce in the little macaroni holes.
  12. Sprinkle the shredded cheddar over the super-delish noodles.
  13. Throw that masterpiece in the oven for 30-45 minutes.
  14. Lick all the cheesy stirring spoons.

We have some down time, so this is the point in the recipe where I like to stupidly reactivate my Facebook account, internet stalk the absolute shit out of my ex-boyfriend and ugly cry while mouthing “I will always love you” to his new profile picture; which, coincidentally, includes his new girlfr– wait… Is that an engagement ring? Affirmative, that is a big sparky mountain. Can I zoom? How do I zoom? Ohmyfuckinggod. Did I just “like” the photo? Oh, for fucks sake. Really? REALLY??!!! How do I unlike it?! Just click it again? Sweet Jesus’ tits, did I unlike it just to re-like it a second time??!? Ohgodohgodohfuckmeohgod. Dear Lord in heaven, if you could like time warp my life, and make it so that doesn’t happen, I will totally adopt a starving African baby, or stop boozing on weekdays, or stop watching interracial porn. Swear.

It’s probably best just to roll around the floor in a blanket burrito, writhing in self-pity and stupidity. The Mac ‘n’ cheese only has about 30 minutes left anyway. Be strong.


Whomp Whomp

Hi kids!

It’s safe to say that I am a wee bit emotional. When I feel the world is crashing down, I delete any and all form of contact; Facebook, Instagram, my phone number, burn off my fingerprints, whatever. I’m working on it. So, cheers to my fourth attempt to be a normal, sane person who keeps her website live and connects with her internet friends on the reg.



P.S. Still working on the cookbook. I have had a few emails about that one, and I promise I am working on it. It’s not really something you can copy paste, and throw into Word. Unless you would like a Comic Sans, 40 page instruction manual on how to not fuck up brownies…