Mi Amor - My Love
Mi Vida - My Life
Mi Cielo - My Sky
Mi Amante - My Lover
Te Adoro - You I Adore
Mi Preciosa - My Precious girl

Those are my favorites of the things C. calls me every day.
All of them. Everyday. And he for real means every bit of it.

He tells me that I am a treasure.
He tells me that I am his Queen. (ok so I giggle at that one but still)
He tells me that I am so so beautiful, and EVERYDAY when I get up and get dressed and come out of the bathroom he whistles the "you are so hot" whistle. Most of the time he stands up, and will come to meet me in the kitchen and want me to spin around so he can see me from all sides and once again tell me how wonderful I look. 90% of the time I'm just in jeans and a t-shirt.

Honest to God he's so appreciative that I actually TRY to look nice sometimes, for Gods sake I've even started curling my hair!

The other day I busted out my old decrepit and I do mean decrepit froggie pajama pants that I've had for YEARS and will only wear in front of my best friend. You know the kind. Anyways, it was late and I wanted to be comfortable and we've been together for long enough for it to be pretty bad if he would have run screaming and dumped me. So I came into the living room and he did his thing where he whistles and says that I'm oh so sexy. I figured he was going a little way too far this time cuz damn these pants are wretched, and tried to call him out on it. I told him that I know that they are the most hideous clothing I own and I look retarded and frumpy in them and that he can calm down on the you so hot just this once, or get some glasses.
Of course, he proceeded sit me down, look into my eyes and get all serious and tell me that I am ALWAYS beautiful to him no matter what I wear, and that he wasn't just being nice. I'm not good at accepting all of this romantic serious wonderfulness, and got a little fidgety but I made it through.

Oh and he calls me a princess, which is a bit of a change from my last BF who called me a "plus size princess." That guy also called me "piggy" and his "leetle eliphant" as his terms of endearments. Yeah so that guy was a real winner, and it's honestly taken me a little time to adjust to someone being so insanely nice to me. Sometimes when I get all fidgety and weirded out by all of Chinos sweetness he notices and tells me to calm down because I DESERVE all the love and adoration that he can give me. He tells me that I earn it. I think the word "earn" might be a little lost in translation cuz I don't DO anything, but whatever, I'll take it.

Ok so that'a a little sliver of what I wish I could share with my family and friends, I'll try not to surogate on you guys to much. Thanx.

NICE.

I'm think I feel insulted.

Yuck, where do I start? The other day I was having a conversation with my boss (of whom I'm also kind of friends with.) We were talking about one of her friends and his dating life. Everything was going fine until she decided to describe to me the "kind of girl" that he always dates. She went on to describe "nice enough girls" but then described them as the type that buy their clothes at walmart, never have much money and probably never will, and always wear their "Oh so carefully applied .99 cent nail polish."
So yeah my boss grew up with decent money and went to a BIG college and will never be poor. Good for her.

Did she realize that I was sitting there listening to her in my shirt and socks and shoes that were bought at Walmart? Or that I grew up poor, and am working my way through community college and therefore am cash-less? And actually GLANCED at my nails so carefully painted with my on-sale nail polish that I'm sure cost less than $2 ?

What the FUCK ??? Am I supposed to just pour my nail polish over my hands or maybe throw it on with a roller because if it's not stupid expensive it's not worth trying to look nice?

I don't think she had a clue, and I don't think she meant anything toward me at all, but it still kind of sucked.

Astounding suckiness

This is the face of a frightened piece of SHIT cat.
(The pictures are a little large, my bad I'm just learning, I'll get better)

Last night we had yet another appearance of a Ghetto mouse in our house. Damn it that's #2!! The mouse was on top of our stove (omg eww, eww, eww) so I decided to take refuge on our couch and send out my two cats to finally do their job.


The picture below is of Big Kitty on top of the refrigerator. She jumped up there when she noticed the intruder and stared down at him for a bit. Then as you can see in the pic. she decided to HIDE IN THE CUPBOARD. She figured out how to get it open, and get inside. The picture is actually later, long after G. Mouse was gone, when she decided to come out.





Here is my other cat who decided to take her own stance across the room on top of the kitchen table. To her credit she watched the mouse the whole time (from the safety of her table perch.) Maybe she thought her mere presence 10 feet away, and her oh-so-scary stare would teach that mouse a lesson.




I've never seen such a worthless show in my entire life. Maybe they've watched to many after school specials with me about how "violence isn't the way." But don't tell that to them when we are playing with their "mouse on a string toy." They go after that thing with claws and teeth and all sorts of I'm-so-brave-kitty-growling. Yes they growl and HISS at their favorite toy. If I talk Mr. G. Mouse into adding on a 3 foot long tail extension maybe the bastards will think he's toy and do their job. This is the Ghetto we've got lots of places to add hair extensions, he really shouldn't run into any trouble as long as he dosn't get the wrong color. I don't need a mouse gang war in my kitchen for gods sake.

Thank heavens my Mexican knows what to do with his tortillas and traps or we might be overrun.

Note To Self:

Note to self:

When your BF comes up with some new position that is doing absolutely NOTHING for you, for heavens sake don't fake an O just to make him feel good.

He will think that yes, you really did like it (he sure as hell did,) and want to throw it into the regular position rotation, and not just a once-in-a-while-er.
Good Job.


Note to self #2:

Don't let BF watch cinnemax after 9 p.m.

Dear Blockbuster beotch counter lady that sux balls,

You gave me a PS2 game instead of an X-box game. I understand that retail work is lame but you were really slow yesterday and you DID sort through your little cabinet of games for like 5 minutes so really, WTF? I wouldn't be so pissed if you hadn't been such a MEGA-BEOTCH in general. You know if you hate your job that much you could go work for a road crew. You would be the perfect person to stand there and do nothing while holding the "SLOW" sign. I hope you get run over.

Dear $8.50 hair glaze that is doing absolutly NOTHING for my hair,

Ok so I should have known better than to buy you, just like the other 150 products I have under my bathroom sink but still. For that much money (oh god i'm sooo painfully cheap,) you could have at least made my hair feel smooth. But no you decided to help me look FREAKIN GREASY. EEEEEEWWWW I hate that, I am not 13 any more. GO. TO. HELL.

Dear mouse that showed up in my house yesterday,

I think I should give you fair warning that those traps with the penut butter will kill you, and I'm going to feel bad when I hear you squeak, but I'm sorry you have to go. I clean my stove after every time I cook, it's spotless, so really what the hell were you doing in there and why did I have to scream like a baby?

Dear Worthless Piece of Shit cats,

You can't even scare away a mouse? REALLY? I've never bothered to name you, little kitty and big kitty has always done us well. But untill the mouse is gone I will refer to you as Chuck Norris and Rosie Odonell. I cringe at the thought, but it's either that or stop feeding you. Get on it hors.

Maybe I belong in the Ghetto

Ok so I'm kind of really good at procrastinating. REALLY.

The ice melts off of our roof and ever so jesus christ conveniently drips onto our front steps. After going to war with Mr. Plow Guy Bastard I've kind of sworn off the whole shoveling thing. But BONUS! the snow that we've been getting EVERY DAY for the past month settles nicely upon the ice on our steps and provides sufficient traction.

So anyways the ice and snow has been building up for a while and I've just sort of ignored it. It's not like we have old people coming to visit or anything. Anyways, this weekend it didn't snow for a blessed 3 days. Oh lord it's been nice. But the thing is that the ice keeps melting off our roof and refreezing on the steps, and without the snow I loose my "traction."

When I went out to my car on Sunday I discovered that our steps had transformed into a 2 inch thick ice rink. OOPS.

Why didn't I buy some salt at the Ghetto-Mart the other day when I saw it? Shame.

I got the bright idea of taking the biggest knife in my house and chopping at the ice instead. (i thought about putting on my saftey glasses, does that count?) I hatcheted happily away until I broke the knife. Cheap bastard. Logic would lead me to get my second biggest knife and go out and break that too. (also cheap bastard) At that point I was pissed for breaking my knives and figured I should at least take out my anger on the ice. Yeah I figured jumping up and down on it and kicking it would make me feel better AND break it up.

Right. Good Idea. So O.K. this will be the second time in a month that my neighbors have seen me fall on my ass. At least this time I added Knifes to my act. Maybe in my next installment of the Ghetto Sideshow I'll add fire.

Come to think of it I DO have a torch. I wonder if I could melt that shit off my steps?

I'm getting salt. I swear I will get salt.

I Can Get it Myself

After work I went to the Ghetto laundy doing place. On Valentines Day. The Ghetto.

The one cool thing about doing laundry on V day is that there was NO ONE THERE. It was kind of weird but great. The scary weird guy that smells and always tries to help me unload my car and then afterwards asks me for 50 cents to make a "phone call" wasn't even there. So that was kind of awesome. The way-ghetto laundry mat worker lady's trucker husband came and brought her valentines dinner, and they ate it off of a washer. I thought that was kind of sweet, they looked happy together.

I put my stuff in the washers and went to the store to buy some food for my pet snail. Speedy has been eating fish food for like a week and he's a little pissy.

So of course since I was doing laundry on V day by myself (a little wretched here btw) I decided at the store that I should at least buy myself some chocolates. A BOX. And a new book, and a filter for my snails aquarium so that I will never clean him again. Call the animal help people on me now because speedy is only getting water added to his tank as it evaporates for like the next 6 months or so.

Ashamed

Oh dear. Oh my.

I took my first plane ride this past weekend. I didn't get lost at the airport like I just knew I would, and I followed all of the Internet rules for etiquette. I tried really hard not to have a death grip on my arm rest during take-off, but I really didn't succeed all that well. I got seated next to a hot guy and was like "oh my god he's hot this rocks."
But I did what you said and I tried not to speak to him. It was cool though, he started up a conversation and we ended up talking for the whole flight. He was clean, intelligent and not even crazy. Having some laughs really took away the total nervous stomach thing I was developing. He was totally great, so Shawn or Sean in Denver, THANK YOU.

I understand that that isn't the norm for you guys, so I do feel lucky.
There was one thing that cracked me up, there was this kinda big-O-booty mexican lady that kept walking up and down the isle to check on her kids that she wasn't seated next to, like every 5 minutes. She had to walk sideways and she was pretty touchy feely so either you got her but rubbing against your face or you got the other side. The other side was where it got great, she apparently felt the need to put her hand on the shoulder of every person she walked by. It was like duck duck goose or something and this one old white guy was really starting to freak out about it. She didn't stink and actually had a nice perfume so her butt rub on my head was almost worth seeing all of the hand touch people spaz.

Oh. Ok. Well I need to get to the point I guess, but I still feel kind of bad about myself. Before we boarded all of the people were you know, sitting around and waiting and stuff so of course I was looking around checking them out. And here's the thing. There were a couple of men that were Arab looking. I have no clue what so ever what their heritage really was, I just knew that they looked ... well.. you know. They sat next to me in the waiting area, so I of course smiled and said hi, and went on reading my book. But shame on my terrible soul all I could think was that they were... I'm sorry I can't even type it I'm too ashamed. You know damn well what I mean. And that's just wrong and I knew it sitting there that it was wrong, but I couldn't stop myself. I had a full on silent freak out and even called my boyfriend to tell him I love him one last time. I sat there chastising myself for thinking so awful, and realizing that it must really suck donkey balls for anybody that looks like that to fly. Thankfully if anybody else was freaking out, they had some tack and also kept it to themselves. At least there is that.

So yeah, I suck, and I am kind of wonder if anybody else sux too. Come on, really, does anybody else still flip out? Even a little? I'd really like to know. Ok, sorry to disappoint but there it is.

Danielle really is a hor

OH MY GOSH, this is so cool. I got my very first person led to my site via a Google Search. I've been impatiently waiting for someone to search for something nasty and end up at my blog. Reading everyone Else's stuff cracks me up.

Anyways, I would like to present to you my very fist stranger search : What is a hor?

Oh, oh my god this is too good, the Internet in all of it's wisdom told this person (2nd place btw) that indeed "Danielle is a hor" That was the answer to his or her question.

BWWAAAHAHAHA.

Maybe she is a sweet virginal waif, I've never met her, but according to the Internet she is the definition of a hor. OMG. Congratulations, that is so cool.

Ok, I am leaving for florida today, wish me luck with the whole nostril offensive plane ride thing.

This isn't really funny but it's SO true.

There might be something wrong with me and I can't figure out if it's a genetic or learned trait.
I have watched the "magic bullet" infomercial like 12 times. And even though I know it's crap and way to small to do anything useful, I still WANT it. Oh, um... yeah I also want like every other crappy kitchen product informercialmabob thing on t.v. What the hell?

I know that that stuff is most likely crap. And the actors are SO unbearably wretched it's just ungodly, but. . . well. Maybe subliminal messaging is for real? Maybe? Please tell me I'm not just another retard consumer cow. But here I am, chewing my as seen on tv cud.

Other than subliminal crap the only other thing I can come up with is that it is SO my Dads fault. When I was a kid he bought the Miracle Blades, the salad shooter, the Ronco food dehydrator, some sort of Ronco turkey cooker and this other magic wand thing that was supposed to make smoothies. (Ronco, did the image the b.k. king after that dude? eeew he's freaky lookin) And that's just the stuff that I can remember. And now that I think about it I NEVER once saw him order anything, it just always showed up on our doorstep.

OH. MY. GOD. He must have been a 3 a.m. sitting in the underwear eating Cheetos dude. Oh no please don't let me picture that, oh well great shit, too late.

It has to be his fault. It just has to.

AA meeting time: I bought this -

Yep. I did. It was my first ever infomercial purchase. It's been over two years since I bought it, and I swear I've used it. Ok so maybe the non-stick came of like after the second time I cooked something, but that's what I deserve. And the MOST SCREWED UP THING EVER is the fact that when I see this particular infomercial on t.v. I still watch it. What is that?

I haven't bought anything since. I'm kind of hoping it's like that one time that I tried shrooms. Everybody experiments right?
But I won't do either again cuz I sort of need to keep the rest of my brain cells, and money in my bank account. But you know what is SO bad? I liked both. And I would like to do both again. But NO.

Maybe I have an addictive personality. (that's such bullshit I can't believe I typed it)

So anyways, to keep from going off the deep end again I'm going to use my blog as an occasional place to hold my own form of AA meetings. IAA. Infomercial Addicts Anonymous.
I pledge to not buy the magic bullet. (isn't that a vibrator too?) Do you think if I watch the i-mercial for it, would that be like a recovering alcoholic going to a bar? I'm not sure if I can give up watching it. I just don't know.