Dear Lindsay

Hey girl! Congratulations, you did it again! You've left rehab, for the third time, I believe?  And all before you hit your 30s.  Impressive.  The way you avoid jail time and avoid taking responsibility for any of the decisions you've made since you hit puberty is almost an art form.  I've been grounded for a lot longer than you've spent in jail and for much less than you do on a regular Tuesday afternoon.  Did Dina ever ground you?  Probably not.  Who would she hang out with?  Obviously not the other kids.  Haven't heard from them in a while.  Are they not drinkers?  You and momma bear probably have nothing in common with them.  I joke.  Badly.  You could use a laugh or two right?  Looks like you may have tried to get rid of some of those laugh lines.

Anywho,  now that I've scolded you, let's talk about how we're going to turn this all around.  I mean, they even let Britney Spears be in charge of her own kids.

There is probably a piece of paper somewhere in that giant stack of court documents on your lawyer's desk telling you can't be in charge of anything that needs any assistance being kept alive.  Maybe, if we file the proper paperwork we can get you a goldfish.  Start there. That girl up there even managed to put out some pretty solid work while she was, let's just say, at her baldest. We won't talk about your recent work, but we all know you can do better.

You definitely were, honey.  And then you got really skinny and blonde, and I guess, bored?  First and foremost, I hope you get better for your sake.  Everybody loves a train wreck, but then it starts to get sad and scary, so get better, girl.  Also, I have friends and family who live in Cali, and I'm sure they're sick of their hard earned tax dollars going toward your rehab/jail time/court dates.  You know, taxes?  Those things Charlie Sheen paid for you.  Which, how the shit did you pull that off?  I must not have seen that box on the form when I was miss filing my taxes this year.

Kisses.

Mean Girls

My weekend wasn't anywhere near as busy as the past couple have been.  No birthdays, baby parties, or friends visiting to celebrate.  The boy headed out to the river early Saturday morning, leaving me to sleep in get woken up by the fur babies after a solid four hours of sleep.  So, like any other twenty something year old senorita would do when she was left to her own devices, I cleaned the shit out of my house.

Pretty exciting stuff, huh?  It had to be done though.  I mean, I've kept up with day to day cleaning like laundry and dishes and sweeping, I'm not a complete animal, but I'd venture to guess that it's been at least a solid two months since I've actually been able to clean my house.  I know.  I can hear all of you over 25 year olds gasp and those of you under 25 wonder what the big deal is.  It was bad in here.  Child Protective Services were coming any day to take the kids away.  I could feel it.  You know what Ms. White up there led me to believe?  I could clean my house with, what looks to be, about 15 animals running around.  You know what, Tina?  They'll even help you.  HORSESHIT.  I have three little ladies in my house that turned about three hours worth of cleaning into an all day extravaganza.  I'm trying to keep one baby out of the bleach, while another takes off with the mop.  And one of them, I won't point fingers, forgot she was house broken.

It was me.

Animals pretty much suck when you're trying to get anything done.  Well, except for playing.  My babes are pretty much the best at that.  So, thanks Disney Princess.  Thanks for letting me think life would be made easier with pets.  Better?  Yes.  Easier?  Go to hell.

I'd like to thank you royal ladies for a few other ways you've fooled me.

This.  This cannot be done in a bath tub.  Now, I realize Ariel's not in a bath tub, but how was I supposed to know that?  I wasn't really that smart until I was like eight.  It was probably charming when you normal sized little girls tried to recreate that magic moment.  You know what happens when a chunky little girl tries to?  A big fat mess. We eventually needed to replace our bathroom floor and I am 100% sure it had something to do with a little water damage from my 'Part of Your World' solos.  Sorry, mom.

Nobody is that graceful losing a shoe when they leave a party.  First of all, if I'm appropriately drunk, I'm not wearing shoes when I leave a party.  Second of all, you know what happened the last time I ran out of a party in heels, Cinderelly?

On crutches for a week.  And I had already trapped the boyfriend, so I didn't get a boy with a castle out of the deal either.  Just an ice pack and some Extra Strength Tylenol.

This bitch.  You can all guess how I feel about not having a tiger.  Least fair thing in my life.  Even less fair than not having a polar bear.  Also, I look exactly the same with or without a hoodie on.  How does that chicken trick an entire kingdom into thinking she's a totally different person just by covering her head?  There are quite a lot of conversations I'd like to disguise myself out of on a regular basis.

 

And I will never ever twerk like that Native American Princess.

You lying bitches.

Dog Park High

If you've been around my Facebook, Instagram, or the Twitter Tatter you know that Joey and I are big time regulars at the dog park.  We usually show our faces there three to four times a week, when Florida's not competing with the sun on who can get the hottest.  We aren't there too much during the summer though.  I worry too much am a good mother and don't want Joey swimming in the water and getting attacked by amoebas, and it's absolutely impossible to keep her out of the lake.  The more you don't want her in there the more she's splashing around.

And I really try to avoid this happy place on the weekends, especially Sundays.  Every person in a one hundred mile radius makes an appearance on Sunday.  It's ridiculous.  I try to make the most of this place being way over capacity by people and dog watching.  And I noticed something today:  The dog park is a lot like high school.

The new kid sticks out like a sore thumb.  There were about 18 people in my graduating class, and most of us started out together in day-care, so if somebody new came in we could smell them coming up the dirt road.  The same thing happens at the dog park.  Those of us who have no life frequent the place recognize the others who do the same, and our pups start to get with familiar with each other.  Joey even has a best friend.  We don't know his name, but he likes to bark a lot and pushes her head under water.  Your first time here?  We can tell.  Don't worry, we'll be nice, but you can't sniff our butts just yet.

The dogs love a good fight.  My Joey would NEVER start a fight.  It has a lot less to do with how well behaved she is and a lot more to do with how big of a wuss she is.  A dog growling at her will send her straight into my lap.  Most of the dogs at the park I go to are well behaved and get along just fine, but just like any situation, enough different personalities in one place will turn sour occasionally.  As soon as the other dogs hear enough growling, barking, and yelping to convince them a real fight is underway, all the sticks, frisbees, and tennis balls are immediately dropped and they all form a circle around the two dogs going at it.  Likewise, nothing can get a bunch of tenth graders' attention like a good ole fight.  Preferably not during lunch though.  Don't interrupt a good time.

There are mean girls.  We can't get away from them, guys.  You'll meet them in kindergarten and they never go away.  The mean girls at the dog park I go to happen to be a gang of Huskies.  They come in the early morning and will not talk to you.  Maybe they haven't had their coffee yet.  I don't know.  I just know, Joey gets quite a few dirty looks and eye rolls thrown her way if she tries to sit next to them.  They even get up and move sometimes.  Bitches.

There are teachers.  There is always at least one person who thinks he or she is in charge (it's usually a she).  She likes to walk around and break up fights, yell at dogs for humping each other, and overall just try to ruin everybody's good time.  My dog is pretty well known for only responding to my voice, so it's always a good time to watch this person try to tell Joey to stop trying to stick her tongue down another dog's throat.  It's not even your dog, lady.  Do you even have a dog here?

There's that one weird kid.  And that would be my Joey.  She runs around licking trees, sitting on people's feet, and trying to force other dogs to play with her.  Joey has never met a dog she doesn't instantly fall head over heels in love with.  And the more they resist her the more she wants to play with them.  We all knew that kid.  They find the people that were the meanest to them and those were the ones they wanted approval from.  Trust me dude, you don't want to hang out with those kids.  They suck.  Fortunately, Joey doesn't give a shit who likes her.  She'll definitely spend the better part of her day trying to make you be her friend, but if you're too stupid to realize she's the coolest kid there, she'll just hang out by herself.

Too cool for school.

Wait a Minute

Do you ever have those moments where your boyfriend or girlfriend does something and you think 'man, they really were made for me'?  Whether it be for right now or forever, you just know that you were supposed to be with them.  Did I just make you throw up a little?  Good.  Don't worry, this won't be as sappy and nauseating as you think it will.  If you want some of that, you can jump on over here and check that out.  I promise, this won't be like that.  Hang in there.

I had one of those moments recently.  So, I got home from work yesterday morning and did what I always do when I get home, grabbed a soda off the end table next to the front door, took a few sips, and stuck it in the fridge.  You're probably wondering if we keep our sodas next to the front door, and no, we don't.  They hang out in the refrigerator where they belong.  That wonderful boyfriend of mine has a little habit of not finishing his drinks and leaving them out.  This would probably drive most women (I'm trying this new thing where I refer to myself as a 'woman' since I'm 27 now, it's totally freaking me out) crazy.  You see, I LOVE room temperature drinks.  Lukewarm water?  Rocks my socks off.  You're telling me that soda is tepid AND flat?  GIVE ME.  Flat soda is the absolute best.  I know, it's weird.

And I like that he subconsciously supports this strange little thing about me.  Yeah yeah, I know, he probably just forgets about them, and I'm just weird, but you get my point.  What could be seen as flaws on both of us, actually works out for the other person.  Bam.  Perfect.

A few other silly things work out really well in our relationship's favor.

One thing about me that isn't necessarily weird, but definitely drives everybody the boyfriend crazy is I am a hardcore morning person.  I LOVE waking up and do so ready to bug the shit out of you with the sunshine coming out of my ass.

Yeah, I'm THAT person.  And it doesn't matter what my schedule is, I'm just happy as a clam when I wake up.  Time for the boy to get up?

 Do you have any idea how much worse somebody who wakes up actually giggling can make you feel if you're not a morning person?  I've probably been a lot closer to getting smothered with a pillow than I would care to know.  Cool thing about me and le boyfriend?  We have complete opposite schedules.  I go to sleep right before he wakes up, so I miss out on the grumpy (but very cute) train stomping around my house.  By the time he gets home for lunch though my sweet boyfriend is back to normal, and I'm just jumping out of bed, in all my annoyingly happy glory.

Perfect timing.

Now, let's hop back on over to Food & Drink for $200, Alex.  Occasionally, David is super un-American and doesn't finish all of his food.  Good news is, I'm a big fat fatty fat face.  Even better news is, usually when he does this, his meal involves french fries.  And the best news is, french fries are pretty much my favorite thing in all of the land.  Since I'm the only one around when this happens clearly his favorite person, those yummy carbohydrates are all mine.  And you know me.

What am I trying to tell you here?  This relationship isn't built on silly things like politics or religion, but on the things that really matter, my annoying personality and his refusal inability to put things away.  Also, because he gives me treats, like a pet.  And I clean up his mess.  And I don't talk to him in the morning.  Wait.

 Shit.

A Very Well Trained 

I Don't Even Know What Normal Looks Like Anymore

Ok, I need to whine for just a second, and then I'll get to useless stories about my pets that I think other people are on the edge of the seats waiting for.  I absolutely LOVE my job.  I honestly can't remember a time that I dreaded going in for the night, and that's pretty rare.  I love the people I work with, the people I work for, my patients, I even enjoy my weird schedule.  That being said, there are absolutely no words to describe my night last night.  Here's a picture of my face though.

See that cute little mask I'm wearing?  I only wear that for two reasons:  I'm sick or my patient's sick and I don't want any germs getting passed back and forth, or things have gotten...messy.  Guess what?  Everybody's immune system was in tip top shape last night.  I work in the medical field, use your imagination. And that's all I will say to avoid HIPAA tracking me down and putting me in a head lock.  Let's just say, I don't usually have a drink after work but that girl up there was throwing them back at 7:15 this morning.
 

Anywho, now that that's out of the way, let's talk about my freak show children.  My pets are WEIRD.  And not your normal 'why does my dog keep smelling that?' or 'why does my cat have to sit on EVERYTHING?' type of weirdness, but really weird.  We'll start with my oldest.

Hi Penny!

Now, she does do the weird 'have to sit on everything I'm not supposed to be sitting on' cat thing, but she's also really picky about what she eats out of.  Yeah, not what she actually eats, but what bowl I put her food in.  I have a red bowl and a white bowl for her to eat out of.  I bought the red one because she went days without eating once and I switched her food four different times and when that didn't work I bought her a new bowl.  Guess what?  That did the trick.  We are now over the red bowl, and have moved back to the white bowl that I thankfully kept.  Weird.

True to middle child form, and much like her momma, my second born is my strangest.

"Mom! Get my good side!"

First of all, most of my pictures of her look like that.  And the ones that don't, are pictures of her staring at me in a scary 'I want to know what your insides look like' way, with some random toy in her mouth.

When Joe's not posing for the camera, her favorite activity is licking the oven.  She should be embarrassed about how many times I've walked in the kitchen and caught her licking the that thing like it tasted like snozzberries.  She's not, but she should be.  She also is quite the dog treat snob.  Don't even think about giving her MilkBone.  She's too good for it.  If you manage to trick her into taking one of those treats, she will promptly walk up to me and spit it in my lap or my hand.  I wish I was lying.

 Last, but not least, and definitely in no way normal, is my newest baby.

First of all, let's be sad about how my little Olive Juice is getting way too big way too quickly.  At about 18ish weeks old, she can already jump on top of everything in the house.  EVERYTHING.  Every table, counter, bed, desk.  Everything.  And much like her oldest sister, she's in cahoots with Joey and likes to knock things on the ground that the pup's not supposed to have and can't reach.  Nothing is safe in my house anymore.  Olive's favorite game does not involve any of the many toys I dropped a small fortune on, it involves dog food.  At any given moment during the day, you can find her standing over her sister's food bowl, picking up individual pieces of dog food, throwing them in the air, and batting them across the house.  If you're in the living room or dining room, you're in her line of fire.  You've been warned for your next visit.

She also likes passing time hanging out in the water bowl, empty or not.  She's fitting in just fine in this house.

And I don't care what the bf says, there is no way they get all of this from me.  He has to take credit for at least the licking the oven.

Smell ya later.

Let's Take a Walk

Hi there! Happy happy Wednesday! Excuse the overeager greeting, I just wanted to say something really positive before I shit on your day like an ASPCA commercial.  Sorry.  So, as some of you may know, I am meeting my friend Justin Timberlake down in MIA next month.

As you can imagine, I randomly squeal in excitement throughout my day.  So there were a few hiccups along the way when planning the trip, but once everything was settled down, my two best friends were no longer heading down south with me.  I hate it.  But when you're an adult, life gets in the way of happiness sometimes.  Anyways, so Shannon, who was originally supposed to come with, is currently in Jamlando hanging out with family, including her ten year old half sister.  You want to hear a fun little fact?  She doesn't know who Justin Timberlake is.

Yep.  I didn't understand it either, but then I realized NSYNC was never a band while she was alive.  I'll take 'things that make me feel like a million years old for 100, Alex'.  How is this even possible?  I had an intelligent conversation with this girl while floating down the lazy river.  Is she that young?  Am I that old?  Should I have responded when the AARP accidentally sent me an application?  So, this got me thinking.  What other things from our youth did this cute little fifth grader miss out on?

1.  She only knows William Shatner as the Priceline guy and not the host of Rescue 911.

This show was my jam when I was a kid.  Nothing brought my family together like watching other families go through the worst moments of their lives.  This show is the reason I always remove my jacket before I get on an escalator.  Look it up.  This show also ended a full seven years before little half sister was even born.  Ouch.

2.  She will never have to use a Discman.

Now you might see this as a good thing for her, but I learned a lot from using one of those bad boys, mostly about balance.  It's easy as pie to strap an iPod to your arm and take off for a bike ride or a run, you know what's not so easy?  Riding a bike and holding your Discman.  Well, maybe not for you.  I could ride for miles with my Discman balanced on my knee without incident.  Do you know how hard that was to master?  Or how many of those things I dropped and ruined trying to do this?  Now I can't even hold a pen without dropping it, so I'm not entirely sure where that talent of balance ran off to.  The first iPod was released two years before she made her appearance into the world.

3.  She will never get diabetes or a heart arrhythmia from Surge.

My mom should have bought stock in this shit.  I'm sure the calories in this drink is 75% of the reason yours truly was an 180 pound middle school-er.  No lie.  I couldn't get enough of this stuff.  And don't get me cans, mom, save me a trip to the fridge and just buy me two liters.  I was reallllllly good at being a fat kid.  I'll write you guys a post all about that one day.  Anyway, they stopped selling this stuff the year she was born.

4.  Another reason I was a little porker when I was younger?

You'll have to forgive the picture, but these suckers are so old and forgotten this was the best I could find.  The only thing I love more than a regular Cheeto is one shaped like a little animal paw.  I know, not very vegetarian of me, but this was at least 15 years ago, cut me some slack.

5.  When I was ten years old I thought I had some big time secrets.  If anybody found any of these secrets that would be the end of me.  Where does an adolescent go to lock away her chubby little secrets?

Miss Talkback Dear Diary.  I would pay a lot of money to find that thing, enter my 'mrstaylorthomas' password, and make fun of that nerdy little girl.  There is bound to be some good shit in there.  I mean, a boy kissed me behind a chair at church the same day I prank called all the Jeffersons in the phone book.  Who was I supposed to tell these kind of things too?  My best friend moved away in kindergarten, I had to talk to somebody.  I mean, poor little girl might have to start a blog herself to talk through her issues. 

Take a look at all those things.  Remember them?  Still have some of them?  Yeah, she's never seen them.  Probably never heard of them.  You, if you're reading this, are old.  Way old.  You should probably go grab a drink, since you're old enough to do so, to make yourself feel better.  It'll probably take a lot of drinks to drink that kind of pain away, plus you've built up quite the tolerance since you've probably been old enough to drink for the better part of a decade.

See you guys on the other side...soon.

Rantin' and a Ravin'

I am quite possibly the easiest person in the world to get along with.  I'm friends with people I probably shouldn't be friends with, and am entirely too forgiving 100% of the time.  I couldn't hold a grudge if you actually taped it to my hand.  I mean, you have to actually set out to piss me off to make it happen.  And even then, unless you're really committed, you're probably just going to bug me for like five minutes and then I'm over it.  I like to brag about how much my boyfriend and I get along, but let's be honest, NOBODY gets along that well.  Girls are annoying and boys say dumb shit, I just don't get mad that easily.  I find anger to be the most wasteful human emotion of life.  If you get angry with me and start yelling all you're going to get is a crying 27 year old.

Trust me, it'll get you nowhere.  I'm not going to yell back at you or anything because I just don't have that in me, and you definitely won't get anything accomplished. 

That being said, there a handful of really dumb things that will make me want to hit you with a baseball bat.  Maybe more than once.  Some of these I don't have to deal with any longer (thank God) and some I've dealt with already this morning.

1.  Using your cell phone when talking to a costumer service employee

In line at Publix?  At Subway?  Ordering your food at Chili's?  GET OFF YOUR PHONE.  I think this pretty much drives everybody nutty.  I literally hang up in the middle of a conversation without saying good bye if I find my waiter has returned to get my order sooner than I expected.  During my 75 years working at Subway, I would actually skip somebody in line if they were on their phone.  Don't ask me how I got away with that.  I should have been fired from there at least 18 different times a year.

2.  Whistling at My Dog

This applies specifically while I'm running/walking her.  My dog is decently trained, and listens fairly well to me, but she's still a dog, so if you whistle, she is going to respond.  You know what happens when she responds?  She almost runs into the road or yanks me so hard it lands me in the emergency room.  Stop it.  And if you're being really stupid and whistling at me?  Gross.  I just went for a run and you can see sweat in places that most girls probably don't even sweat in.  Yeah, get closer and take a whiff, too.  Get some higher standards, bud.

3.  Obeying Traffic Laws

This also mostly applies to when I'm going for a run.  I can't actually judge you when I'm in the car too, because I'm one of the world's worst drivers (what up, insurance company!).  I ALWAYS wait until that little buddy on the crosswalk light tells me to go.  ALWAYS.  I will stand there like an idiot for 30 minutes waiting for my turn if necessary.  Swear it.  You?  NO TURN ON RED.  That rule is there for a reason, lady in your white SUV.  It's there so you don't send me home to cry in my shower about how if I left my house one second earlier I would be dead.  Again.  And please don't wave me across the road like you're doing me a favor.  It's my turn, not yours.  This is coming from one middle child to obviously another middle child.

4.  Social Media Complainers

Aside from this binge post, I try to refrain from complaining too much.  I save it for three hour long conversations with my best friend.  I do not use Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, or Pinterest to vent.  Why do people complain about silly things anyways?  Show me a post about being angry that your mom has cancer or dog just died, I'm on board.  Complain away, because that actually really sucks.  Your boyfriend left you?  Good.  He sucked anyways and had some pretty questionable facial hair.  Having a long day at work?  Candy Crush just had an update.  Download and shut up.

5.  Obvious Questions

"Did you change your hair?"  Yes, BOYFRIEND, we sleep in the same bed, why is this even a question?  How do you now realize my hair color is different than it was three hours ago?  When people hear what I do for work their first question is 'so do you have to stay up all night?'.

This question seriously makes me crazy.  When I find out you work the night shift at Denny's I don't ask you if you stay awake all night.  Just like every other American, if I got to sleep at work I lose my job.  And like a percentage of Americans, if I fall asleep at work, someone might die.  So, no, I don't get paid the big bucks to take a nap.  I wish.  Maybe you're just trying to make conversation, but you should know I will talk your ear off about anything, you don't have to ask dumb questions.  Also, pertaining to my owl like sleep patterns, 'so, do you sleep during the day?'.  (Please refer to above gif)  I don't understand your question, and now I don't want to make conversation with you.

See?  Just avoid silly things like all of the above and we can besties.  Except for number one, that seriously drives everybody bat shit crazy.

This post brought to you by good ole P.M.S.

Weekened Update

Things I learned this weekend:

KIDS ARE GROSS.

Let me back up.  I actually had a fantastic weekend.  Saturday I went to a gender reveal party for my favorite baby momma. 

You'll have to forgive me for being in the way of her cute little belly bump, but I just loving squeezing on her.  So, if you have the pleasure of knowing my sweet friend up there, you know that she needs a baby she can cover in pink.  I need her to have a baby I can cover in pink.  About six of my friends have had boys in the past year or so.  I'M OVER IT.  I told Brittney over and over I would love her baby no matter what, but I think she knew the pressure I was putting on her to control the gender of her child.  And, she did not disappoint.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the inside of the adorable cake is PINK!  Good job, Brittney!  Because I would have been way pissed when all the pink stuff I ordered online came in and I had to wear it myself.  Who am I kidding?  I'd give my left arm to be able to wear a onesie and some booties.

So, naturally, any type of baby centered party prompts mommas to discuss....things.  And not your typical discussion about birth stuff and the early months of being a mom, but things I never even knew could happen.  I'm 27!  How did I not know some of this stuff?!  And more importantly, why the hell do some of  you guys do this more than once?!  The Chinese weren't trying to control population with their one child policy, they were giving their women a way out of having to go through child birth more than once.  Obama, THESE are the important issues.  Mr President, please don't make me have four kids.  Oh, but good luck on your impending bundle of joy, Britt.  Kisses.

I spent the remainder of my Saturday eating take out from Hawkers (try it if you haven't yet) and thanking my little fur babies for not being real babies.

Hi mom!

Sunday I hightailed it over to the forbidden part of Orlando the Disney side of town to hang out with my other half.

Cue happy place.  Something just feels so right about being in the same room as her, or poolside, whichever.  Hanging out with my Shannon, also means hanging out with my mini Shannon.

I KNOW.  Cutest two year old of life.  Yes those are Woody pajamas, and yes I googled adult sized ones as soon as I got home.  We spent the afternoon splashing around the pool before your typical Florida summer thunder storm sent us packing.  The rain did wait until much later than usual to start, so thanks for that Mother Nature.  But before we headed indoors, we had to switch pools because a kid pooped in the pool.  Yep, took a shit.  I mean, I kind of can't blame him, why get out when you're having a good time?  Plus, you just cleared the pool.  It's all yours now, if you want it buddy.  Just realize later in life, you have to ask for stuff, you can't just poop in it, depending on how rich or drunk you are.

So the lesson I learned this weekend?  Kids will ruin your body as well as probably your carpet.  Let your friends have all the kids.  Not unless you want your kid shitting in a bowl when he wants some cereal.

Forever an aunt.

The Dating Game

Oh, dating.  I think everybody has a love/hate relationship with the idea.  Now, I am quite the lucky duck to have the wonderful boyfriend that I have, but when you're attached, there's a lot less 'dating' and a lot more 'sitting on the couch wondering if he's going to let you have that last crab rangoon' (he totally lets me every time).   Many of the romantic stories I here nowadays, whether they be first hand accounts from friends, or magazine articles, seem to start out with online dating.  I could never.  Kudos to you guys who can though.  One time a random guy started a game of Dice with Friends with me on my phone and by the third game he wanted to know if I wanted a picture of his you know what.  Ummm, no thanks.  Pull your pants up and roll a large straight, kid.  That's about as close as I've come to online dating.  For the sake of you guys who participate in this way of breaking the ice, I hope it's better than that.

Anywho, so one night, the reason I'm not hanging out on match.com and I were on a date  sitting on the couch watching something I'm sure I had no say so in, when a commercial came on.  Commercial time is usually time for potty breaks or refill my bowl of ice cream breaks, but we couldn't tear our eyes away from what the little people on the TV screen were trying to sell us on:  www.farmersonly.com

You guys have all seen it.  You're probably used to it by now.  But, you have to admit, the first time you saw that commercial you gave your television a funny look.  I understand dating websites catered to sexual preference, or religious preference, but do you farmers really have to date only each other?  Sure I like my lattes and Steve Maddens, but I grow my own food I've eaten a tomato or two out of my backyard.  Who says I don't want somebody else to grow that food for me?  I'm sure as shit not doing it.  But I mean really, is there some twenty something year old girl sitting out on 200 acres of land in Texas who can't just snag some dude at a rodeo or feed store?  I mean, if there's some online shopping for some lovin' in a corn field, what the heck else can the internet give us when looking for love?

First of all, you know those crazy dooms day preppers have their own dating website/gang/cult.  Every time I watch that show I always think 'how does somebody get that crazy?'.  More importantly, how does somebody that crazy find somebody equally as nutty to marry and get them agree to figure out how to turn dryer lint into breakfast?  They definitely do need their own dating website if they aren't scared of the Internet.  I don't want any of my poor friends accidentally landing one of those crazy faces.  Well, one you guys can.  If they're right, I'll need a basement to do my crossword puzzles in.

We also need a dating website based on phobias.  Your girl is TERRIFIED of birds.  Don't know how or why, but they give me mini panic attacks anytime I think I see one.  You know what's amazing about my S.O.?  He hates birds too.  It's so nice knowing he won't one day blindside me by asking to put an aviary in the backyard, but I didn't know this when we first met.  By the time I found out, I was already in love and in too deep if he did decide to turn my backyard into a Stephen King novel.  If I would have met him on www.birdssuck.com or www.catsrulebirdsdrool.com I wouldn't have to even question this, I would just already know. 

How about a dating website that hooks you up with people who are fans of the same sports team?  I met David in a bar, fell in love before football season started, and now have to deal with this:

I spend all of each football season trying to free of him of those horrible horrible Florida State clothes.  And not in a fun way.  I wish I would have met him on something like www.caneslove.com or www.idontlikeshittyfootballteams.com.  But now I'm stuck trying to show my support and actually wearing garnet and gold during certain games.  If those websites were available to me, maybe I wouldn't be stuck selling my soul and wearing a Seminole head on my shirt sometimes.  Love makes you do gross things.

I'd like to say there should be websites based on what types of animals you love too, but I think things would go from trying to find a soul mate to weird and illegal in about four seconds, depending on the speed of your Internet connection.  Don't go there.  If you want to meet somebody who loves dogs in the perfectly appropriate way you do, you should wear some short shorts to the dog park, but maybe stay off www.nutsfordogs.com.  Forgive me for that.  I think I'm funnier than I actually am sometimes all the time. That's why you guys should be thankful I'm off the market and you don't have to date me. 

Happy Hunting.

Intervention?

Hi, my name's Tina, and apparently you guys all think I'm an alcoholic.  "Hi Tina!"

Yeah, I woke up from a nap yesterday, and my trustee sidekick (my iPhone) let me know that my best buddy Brittney had posted on my wall on Facebook.  No big deal, she posts on my wall all the time.  Will it be cat related?  Am I getting asked out on a lunch date?  Neither.  She posted an ecard on my wall.  Still not a big deal.  Ecards sometimes make me laugh.  Brittney always makes me laugh.  This should be good.  And it was.

See?  Funny.  So what is the big deal, you ask?  Apparently when somebody sees anything wine related, I immediately pop into their head.  All of these bad boys are on my page:

Is there something you guys want to talk to me about?  Oh, this one's on there twice:

TWICE.  I got it the first time guys.  It's probably easier if I just drink right out of the bottle.  You know what?  It's actually not, because I switched to boxes of wine a long time ago.  Get on my level.   Sure there's more alcohol in those sweet sweet cardboard boxes of heaven, but this is about saving money.  I pay less for the wine in the long run if I buy it by the box.  You think an alcoholic would even worry about economics?

Plus, you know what a glass bottle does when you drop it?  It breaks.  You know what a box does?  Maybe loses its shape a little bit if you drop it from like the second story.  That happy juice isn't getting out though.  Oh hey, a lesson in Physics right there.  Alcoholics probably need to brush up on that subject.  I'm plenty educated in that, thank you.

I feel like most alcoholics have at least one alcohol related charge on the record books somewhere.  Zero for me, bucko.  Sure, maybe because two glasses in I usually lose my keys, so I'm not driving anywhere, but I'd like to think I'd make the right decision to 'arrive alive' if I could just find my damn keys.  And no 'drunk in public' charges for me, bud.  Can't happen when you drink alone at your house...

Whatev.  Listen, all my bills are paid within two to three days of their due dates and my pets are still alive.  All three of them.  People even let me watch their kids sometimes.  I'M FINE.

Honestly, I think you can truly tell if somebody drinks too much wine if they have one of those monogrammed, insulated wine cups/glasses.  Are you so worried about losing your wine that you need your first, middle, AND last initial on there?  And until mine gets here in the mail this week...

Cheers.