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.

Snow Plow Sons of Bitches

I moved into the Ghetto this weekend.

I've always lived in the country and quite frankly I hate my new Ghetto home. Singing Elvis' song "In the Ghetto" as preformed by Cartman from South Park makes me feel a leeeeetle beter. But not enough to stop me from wanting to kick the snow plow dudes ass.

We received a lovely dump of 20 inches of snow saturday night. The snow is pretty and there's nothing I can do to stop it so I can't really bitch about it. That is, until the snow plow fucker rams a half ton of it onto my car.

Since I am a hillbilly, I of course have experience in snow plowing. Damn it, it's not rocket science. A snow plow has this great little function that allows it to be angled to which ever direction is necessary.

Dear Snow Fucker,

The correct position of your plow for slinging crap off the road at 40 mph is
is the position that angles it AWAY from my car. Yes Asshole that means you need to angle it into the middle of the road and then yes, I'm sorry, go over it again, and again,
until you get all of it pushed up into my yard, all the while tearing up what little grass
we have. Yes retard, YARD not CAR. Bitch. (Kill the grass I hate to mow anyways.)

It took me an hour to shovel myself out and get my car un-stuck. An entire hour of swearing out loud and repeatedly slipping and falling on my ass. At least the swearing and falling made me laugh at myself, and yes the snow is beautiful but I still want to stick my shovel up his ass.


OH yes, I feel many good times will be had in the Ghetto. I am cracker, hear me swear folks.

Hillbillys On A Plane

Actually just one hillbilly.

I'm driving with my parents down to florida and then flying back. I've never flown, flew, flied, (god it sux to be dumb) before and I think I might be nervous. It's not the plane up in the air that I'm afraid of though, it's the people.


Thanks to reading Mr. 15 Minute Lunch everyday, I am now good and freaked out about getting on a putrid smelling, germ infested, lung tissue spotted flying hell hole. It's not a complete loss though, at least I have been properly educated on etiquette. This is what I've gathered so far:

-I will not speak.
-I will bathe before getting on the plane.
-I will not use a retarded amount of perfume.
-I will freak out trying to figure out which arm rest is mine and then in fear not use one at all.
-I will look my hottest.
-I will observe nasal courtesy. i.e. no snorting snot (eeeeew)
-I will not lean my seat back, or attempt to adjust it.
-I will not kick the seat in front of me.

Ok this is what I can think of right now, if anybody has more to add I would appreciate it. Also I would appreciate it if someone would tell me how the hell I'm going to come off of this without Ebola.

Thank You.

Somebodys sexy

Ok those letters that you have to type in the little box before it will let you post? The security letters? Whatever you call that shit.

Today they found the need to tell me something.

Jewsoxzy

Is anyone else seeing, Jew so sexy? I'm not sure if I'm sexy or if Jews are.

Oh yeah it's the Jews.