Pillow Talk With Holly and Harry Hangover

This morning was pure comedy in my household. Last night was bowling night with the girls from work, which almost always results in a hungover Friday. Today was no different. To make matters worse, the hubs had man night last night (which also almost always results in a hangover), so I couldn't even whine until he rubbed my back. He was too busy whining, too. To say we were a sad pair this morning is the understatement of the year. Luckily, we both might have still been drunk, so there were a lot of silly shenanigans going on (nothing sexual or anything . . . I'm pretty sure sexy time would have made me barf*) to make up for the horrific headache and the spinning room. I thought I'd share some of our craziness with you, just for shiggles. Our conversation went a little something like this:

Holly: Ufffffffffff.
Harry: I am hungover like a whoooooooooore!
Holly: Uffffff. <pregnant** dramatic pause> Yeah. A whore that went to a really great party last night with a whole lotta free booze. Whores love free booze.
Harry: Everybody loves free booze.
Holly: Yeah, but if my headache is any indication, it must have been a whores' party with buckets and buckets of champagne. Because champagne makes your head hurt. And whores love it.

Then, somehow we got on the topic of tampons. Don't ask.

Harry: We should invent a new line of tampons and call them Corks. With an "x." C-O-R-X. That would be awesome.
Holly: Bahaha! Why the "x"? Because of the X chromosomes? That's clever.
Harry: Uh, yeah. That, too. But mostly because of the amazing marketing you could do. "Corx! They're extraordinary!" Can't you just see the commercial now?
Holly: Yeah, and we could have chicks chugging big ol' bottles of wine, and then corking them. You know, just to illustrate the point.
Harry: Yes! It should be red wine. And there should be a demonstration where they pour red wine into the Corx to prove how effective they are.
Holly: Xtra strength Corx! For those extra heavy days.
Harry: The stronger the Corx, the more "x"s on the packaging.
Holly: Put a Corx in her, she's done.

. . . and then he played the saxophone for me. Careless Whisper, to be exact. And I sang along ('cause it's kinda what I do). It was magical.


*Do people still say "barf"? If not, I'm totally bringing it back. I think it does a good job of illustrating just how gross the act of vomiting is. Barf. 
**It couldn't be a pregnant pause because I was drunk. Only assholes drink when they're pregnant.

STILL. MORE. WEINER.

Just when you think the story can't get any worse . . . you find out there's a little weiner involved. . .*

Source

. . . and he KNEW. 

Shit just got real. Real(ly) complicated, that is. Should we take bets on whether or not she should stay? I feel really bad for this poor woman. Lord knows, she has probably had her fill of Weiner (I just can't help myself; it's too easy). Between all of the obnoxious headlines (touché - I totally grouped my titles in with that blanket "obnoxious;" I'll be the first to admit it), all of the random naughty pictures and the raunchy Facebook chats . . . she has to have had about as much Weiner as she can take. (How many times can I possibly use the word "weiner" in a sentence, with some sort of clever double entendre? The possibilities are seriously endless here. It's like a new game for me.) This has to be an incredibly difficult time. It's easy to say that she should leave that coozehound . . . but when there's a child involved . . . that's probably a lot easier said than done.

On top of everything else, and to add even more insult to [his] injury, Weiner now faces further probing (hehe) from the Ethics Committee:

'"Weiner will have to reveal to the ethics committee the names of the others with whom he's exchanged sex-text images," said a former House prober.'**

. . . I'm gonna go ahead and put it all out there. That "former House prober" (which, ironically, sounds awfully kinky to me) has got to have some sort of affiliation to the Republican/Tea[bag] Party. Either that, or (s)he's British. "Sex-text images"? Hahaha! It's so proper! That's like how my mom calls an ATM an "ATM Machine" or a cell phone a "cellular phone." Let's get to the real nitty gritty of the situation.

Listen, Weiner. You're gonna have to cop to who you've been fuc sexting . . . and if you have, indeed, been "misusing [your] official resources" . . .

So, there you have it. The latest and greatest of Weinergate. Whew. I'm worn out! It's way past my bedtime and that was a lot of "weiners." I'm going to bed.***

*Come on. You already knew this would be filled with tongue in cheek weiner references. If you were over it, you should have probably just skipped this post. I've gone rogue with the weiners. See how quickly that just happened? You were just minding your own business, when WHAM! I hit you in the face with another weiner. Yup.  Lucky for you, this is that kind of post.

**Quote taken from www.newyorkpost.com. Remember? It's only my new favorite place to find the good stuff! Apparently they can't get enough weiner, either.

***I know, I know. I'm sorry. Weiner's been getting all of my attention lately. I'm going to try really hard to blog about something else tomorrow...but I can't make any promises. This Weiner stuff is way too juicy. Yikes. My double entendres might have just officially gotten out of control. That one scared me a little. Too much, right? Maybe that really is my cue to just leave well enough alone. I'm sure people will eventually grow tired of obsessing over Weiner's weiner and this too, will pass. I think it's safe to say that I wore Weiner out over the past three days. Yeah...it's probably time to move on. All the weiners are getting to be too much. ...okay. I really am done now.

Fun with Nicknames

Happy Hump Day, kiddos! I’m not sure if anyone else takes note of the Google doodles on the Google homepage every day, but a couple of days ago, Google posted a series of different doodles inspired by the Hargreaves Mr. Men and Little Miss characters in honor of Hargreaves’ 76^th birthday. 

These were some of my favorite doodles, because I love those characters! (Side note: have you seen today’s Google art? Man. They really outdid themselves with that one. If you haven’t already, you should definitely check it out. I was impressed.) One thing about me that you may not know is that I love nicknames. Pretty much everyone in my life (especially the important peeps) has some sort of a nickname. The Little Miss characters hit especially close to home because a few years ago, I worked at a well-known mortgage company that shall remain nameless (good riddance), and two of my good friends and I (Think along the lines of the office Mean Girls crew. My life soundtrack always skipped straight to Milkshake when we walked through the office. Don’t judge. You would want to eat with us at lunch, too. Trust me. We were funny. Still are.) decided that we all needed Little Miss nicknames. Missy was Little Miss Bossy, Mokel was Little Miss Chatterbox and I was Little Miss Trouble. Fitting, right? It’s interesting how you somehow at least one Hargreaves character is the perfect illustration of someone’s personality. At my current job, my co-worker clique already has code names for everyone else. How else can we talk about them freely without fear of repercussions? Good ol’ Marcy put together a diagram so everyone could keep track of all of the nicknames and avoid confusion. Click to view the details of the diagram.

Everyone’s name came about for some sort of reason. For example, Dump Truck was so named because of this instant message conversation:

So, anyway, the recent Hargreaves characters inspired me to try to determine which character best suited all of our ridiculous characters at work. I’ll have to report back with the details. In the meantime, which Hargreaves character are you, and why? See below for a list of characters to choose from, or click here to take the quiz. I’d love to hear back from you! This can be my first official interactive blog. Fun!

Please excuse the brevity of my last two posts. I am currently playing the avoidance game with my final but alas, I have procrastinated until the very last minute and have to take the dreaded test tonight. I should be back to normal by tomorrow. Promise.

All Google Doodles courtesy of Google

Mr. Men & Little Miss Poster image courtesy of this site

Diagram courtesy of Marcy Magoo

Thanks to Kelis for Milkshake - still a great song and yes, still part of my soundtrack.

the morning after.

I’m fairly certain that I just dozed off at my desk. Nothing too conspicuous, thank goodness, but I’m pretty sure I was asleep. I awoke with a bit of a start when I realized I was staring at my computer screen with a glassed-over, blank stare and my mouth slightly open. Damn. It’s going to be a long day. 



Contrary to popular belief, this is not a picture of me in the morning.
This is the sleep gnome.*
Oddly, he appears to be a cross between a Jawa...and DEATH.
I'm convinced he keeps his shitty sleep sand in his face hole and
hurls it haphazardly at his every whim and fancy. I hate him.



It's mornings like these when I wish that I could Photoshop® my face. That's right. Photoshop® my face. I wouldn’t abuse it; I would only use it on mornings like this one, when I'm so tired that my eyes feel gritty (How the hell does that pesky sleep gnome keep getting into the effing house? Looks like the hubs and I are due for another chat about leaving the door open so any riffraff with a pocket face hole full of sand can just stroll in at their leisure.), and my mood feels surly and I'm lugging giant, heavy, Samsonites® under both of my eyes. Is that asking too much?

Back to the Photoshopping®. Seriously, that would possibly be the coolest thing ever. Sometimes (on mornings like this one), I wake up and look in the mirror (and scare myself, to be quite honest) and wonder if I'll be forced to resort to sorcery or human sacrifice in order to appeal to the gods of conceit to please make me appear *almost* presentable. Makeup is an okay everyday solution to blemishes and a few too many cocktails from the night before…but the amount of makeup that I would need to shellac on my face in order to cover up a yesterday that lasted 22 hours and then finally ended with a measly 2 hours of sleep (remember, I'm not getting any younger and a growing girl needs her beauty sleep) would make my face itch. No joke. Listen, I have sensitive skin. Don’t judge me.

To recap, I would much prefer wizardry with the magic wand, eraser and blending tools that Photoshop® has to offer, over breaking out the grimoire and chanting incantations all morning (those things are so hard to remember sometimes). Trust me, I need it. There isn’t enough MAC® in the world to cover up what I’ve got going on today. So to the technology gurus (who I’m sure are most definitely NOT reading this blog)…MAKE IT HAPPEN. Posthaste.

Okay. Enough play time for me. This girl has got some serious slaving to do in order to finish this godforsaken paper before the DEADline (No wonder they call it a deadline. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed that before today. I wonder what the origin of that word really is?), and I am on a downward spiral of delirium, giggling maniacally at my desk. (The Downward Spiral was a pretty good cd. If you like headbanging. I don’t, but I like Trent Reznor okay. We share a birthday. He can’t be all that bad. For those of you NKOTB fans, I also share a birthday with Jordan Knight. Yup. You’re jealous. I know.) Oh, here I go, off on several delirious tangents…I can always tell when I’m sleep deprived, because I end up with a TON of parenthetical phrases. I guess I have a lot of afterthoughts when I’m sleepy. 

Aargh! Later, peeps. This blog is turning into The Neverending Story. So I’m gonna ride my giant flying dog thing on out of here and I’ll catch you on the other side of this stupid, day-ruining, obnoxiously tedious paper. Pray for me. Or do some incantations, if that’s your thing. Whatever. I can never remember the words and I have the most difficult time finding eye of newt. Shit. I’m doing it again. Maybe it would be better if I just stop typ

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*Sleep gnome image courtesy of http://www.geeky-gadgets.com/star-wars-garden-jawas-13-11-2009/

**If you like the sleep gnome more than I do (and/or if you're a Star Wars geek), by all means, take him for yourself. Please. DO IT.
***Totally awesome picture of me and my buddy Falcor is a courtesy of me. The original image was taken from here.