Chicken, Zits, And Some Girls' Anal Virginity

OK, so for some reason, I am in a worse mood than usual. I lied, I know the reason. It's because the death of an unrealized egg is about to commence via my pink butterfly doughnut, and I just realized I have the zit on my cute face with enough buttercream inside to take out New York. (I was going to go with a more graphic, disgusting description, but by trying to pretty up, it's almost worse. I'm too lazy to change it.) It's almost a quarter of the size of my chin, and you can't see it yet, which is even worse, because you don't know what it's going to look like, you just know it's going to be bad. I was eating Kentucky Fried Chicken, rather sloppily, I must say, on a flimsy-ass styrofoam plate (this is not the norm, btw, although I'm sure I sound like a redneck skank), and watching my husband go crazy on the Wii, when I poked myself in the face with the end of a drumstick. And. It. Hurt. Like I had just hit my face with a needle. So I examine the drumstick first. No, no hypodermics. I touch my face to see if the dirty hobo sharp is indeed below my mouth. There's that fucking sting. Again.

I leap and rush to the bathroom, to make sure it wasn't the end of someone's hopes and dreams in there, and it's not. And I felt around, and it is indeed a huge ass zit, and though hasn't reared it's ugly head yet, it wants me to acknowledge it's presence, which is the only reason I can see that it's painful to the touch. God, it hurts. It's hard and it hurts and I can't stop touching it, which is completely and utterly ridiculous. I know what my mom would say, and right now I can hear her. "There is oil on your skin, Bertha Bubbalicious Beer, but there's oil AND dirt on your hands. Think of all the things you've been touching. Now you're putting that on your skin that's already irritated. Just use a hot washcloth and let it sit on the skin for a few minutes. That'll open your pores up, baby." The thought makes me want to cry, because as much as I love my mother, and I know that is sound (no pun intended) advice, I'm just gonna keep poking it and wondering if I really did wash my hands after I ate dinner, or if I am touching my face with my grease/butter/Pepsi/lotion-covered fingers. If so, this shit should clear right up.

I'm currently with the boyfriend, but we are on our own laptops and nothing else is on. No TV, no nothing. He's wearing headphones. I'm not, because I have a ridiculous headache that will NEVER cease. It's been here ALL FUCKING DAY. I'm sure all that MSG from KFC is helping, yes I know, shut the fuck up, ok? Anyway, he's watching some idiot bullshit video on his computer, which is most certainly either from collegehumor.com or some indie movie that everyone knows about, but since I don't really watch movies, I don't know shit about them, so the sum of all that information means he gets to tell me that it's "totally indie" and go on and on about the plot and the characters and which company's putting out the piece of shit, and blah...and blah...AND BLAH. I don't fucking care. I have told you this ten thousand times. I will watch maybe a movie a month, tops. And I have a feeling that "Joe And The Eyesore", or whatever dumb piece of shit we'd either have to drive 16 hours to see in a theater, or I can watch, streaming, buffering every 15 seconds and all, on my tiny 15-inch screen here, isn't going to fucking make the cut this month. I'm holding out for "P.S., I Love You". I'm sure that shit's gonna be OnDemand soon, and I can watch it on the actual television, where I can concentrate on a movie and not fall asleep, like I do at every movie since Jurassic Park, in the theater.

It's dark in there, ok? And there is the smell of popcorn, which is a treat my mom used to make us sometimes after dinner (read: close to bedtime), and I've probably eaten pretty recently before this movie to spare me the embarrassment of maxing out my credit card trying to get a small popcorn, some M&M's, and a small soda. I say small, because every FUCKING TIME I order a small anything, someone at the counter always says "You can get a large for sixteen cents less," or something ridiculous like that, and now my frugal nature is conflicting with my "I'd-like-to-keep-my-pant-size" nature, and I never know what to do. And if I'm with someone, they're gonna say, inevitibly, "Dude, I'll split it with you". This always proves a bad idea, because I am always monitoring their intake of the food I originally ordered. If we split the cost down the middle, and they're starting to get to the mid point of the popcorn bucket, I am for DAMN sure taking it, setting it on the opposite side of my lap than they're sitting on, and mindlessly playing with the popcorn in my hands, whether I'm hungry or not. I have a larger family than most, and I know how this shit pans out.

I didn't used to drink during meals, like I would save my drink for the dessert portion or something, and my parents always gave us Kool-Aid. However, when we ordered pizza from a chain, we would always get the 6-pack of Pepsi. We would each only have one. I would eat my piece, or two pieces, of pizza, and still have my soda. Then it was a bidding war on who could have my soda, because I certainly didn't care, did I, that they were gonna drink it, because (I heard this numerous times) I can't tell the difference between soda and Kool-Aid. Let me tell you-I know the fucking difference. I always have. I preferred Kool-Aid, because the first gulp of soda always brought tears to my eyes, because of the carbonation. But I would have happily stashed my Pepsi away (which I knew had value), except one of my brothers would steal it, unopened of course, and start a bidding war. Wages would be set, chores would be argued over, someone always got punched or slapped, but eventually, whoever stole my drink ended up with something pretty nice. And what did I end up with? A walk to the fridge to secure myself some Kool-Aid, before they started bidding on who'd make the next batch.

Anyway, so this "I'm-watching-a-movie-on-my-laptop" bit. Have you ever met someone that laughs out loud for either seemingly no reason, or when they're watching or reading something you aren't, so you're supposed to be polite and say "What?" and then they get to tell you something that you didn't give a shit about in the first place? Usually these people are only-children. This one is. I've noticed a trend in that. I had a friend when I was a kid that would do the same thing. At the dinner table. For no reason. When she ate dinner the first time at my house, she kept falling over laughing, and when asked, she went on about a movie she'd seen several years prior. She later pretended to fall asleep on the sofa, and when I stood up, she jumped up into the air, said "GET YOUR OWN DOUGHNUT! Huh?" and shattered into hysterics. Well, needless to say, my dad thought she was fucking crazy, and proceeded to tell her parents so. Amanda wasn't allowed over at my house anymore. She's now fat and married and didn't invite me to her wedding. Which is fine, because the dude she married looks like a tool.

I'm getting distracted. The laughing thing: it's annoying, ok? If you do it, don't, because people like me think it's fucking annoying. This jackass has been laughing for an hour at this movie, just BEGGING me to say something. Even looking up sometimes, or slapping his hand on his thigh, anything to get my attention. What am I doing when he does it? Staring in the other direction as if I can't hear him. Eventually his noise will die down, but then, when he removes his headphones, I have a whole new problem to deal with. He knows I can hear him now, and he won't shut the fuck up. "Oh God, this movie was SOOOO funny...let me tell you why," and even though I've spent the last hour avoiding his gaze, averting my eyes from his area, not jumping when he make sudden movements or loud noises for fear of being found out, I either have to sit and listen to this mindless drivel (when I'd rather cover myself in honey and have people throw beehives at me), or I have to be unreceptive, and then we get into a fight about how I don't listen, basically. It's ridiculous and it's wrong.

I don't make him listen to anything he doesn't care about, and that is the truth. I'm not one of those girls that prattles on and on about stupid shit. Oh, I usually have a story, but I hold it back, because in exchange, I would have to hear about his college life out-of-state, or his private high-school life. Neither of which I give half a shit about. I met you after, and I don't want to hear about how this one time, you drove these two idiots to homecoming, even though you had a date, and they paid you in Vodka, or that one time when you ran over your best friend's foot, or this one time, you got SO wasted you hit some dude in the head with a beer bottle, or this one time, this girl was so in love with you that she gave you her anal virginity and in exchange, you gave another girl a handjob in the same bed, but the girl in love was really unattractive, but you're not that shallow anymore. I don't care, I never cared, so shut up. You're different now, quit looking for a reaction, which is all you goddamn single kids (that's better than only children) seem to need 24 hours a day. I gave you attention at the beginning, and my thanks was you never listening to me, so when you say that now it's an even exchange, I won't believe you, and instead don't talk about my past, for fear of having to hear about yours.

My hair hurts.

Juno Day

So this is the day that Juno comes out on DVD. I'm super excited. I have it in my hot little hands, and I am celebrating by eating fragrant, delicious, fresh strawberries. Eating them plain when there's baking chocolate in the kitchen is fucking killing me. But so is the diet, so whatever.

I am really loving BitTorrent sites. I am addicted. I did download a CD recently, two weeks before it hit the store, but the DAY it came out in store, I bought it, so you can suck on that, US government. Man I hate that. I was listening to Kings Of Leon today and wondering why I don't hear more about them. They're huge in England. Not trying to be smart, not like those whole "My Weiner's HUGE in Japan". Hahaha, we get it. Anyway, we should hear more about them. They are a grow band, they have to grow on you, but they're fabulous.

I went to the KU Parade Of Champions this weekend. It was amazing. Took tons of pictures of the players and was high-fiving to beat the band. That's such an old person saying, I don't know what it means, but all I meant to say was "HEY, I WAS HIGH FIVING A LOT". I was really excited and took some crap pictures, but I took some good ones as well. Best one I got was of the guy holding the trophy. Looked like I was in the damn car, and I was the man about it. Slick as hell. Anyway, it was cool, being a part of history like that.

I ate a lot this weekend and I'm still fucking bloated. I think I should've eaten a tums at some point. Now I'm eating non-greasy food to make up for my nasty debauchery. Also, Burger King makes this Ultimate Bullshit Burger, I don't know what it's called, really, but it's brand new and you can get it "loaded". OK, that is like begging to kill you. A1 steak sauce, a thick ass burger, cheese, bacon, AND THEN on top of the meat, there's like loaded mashed potatoes. And fucking fries. I thought I was gonna shit in my pants driving through Kansas City. It runs through you like the midnight train to Georgia.

That's all for now. Sorry I haven't blogged in a while. I've been busy eating and being in an area where Wifi is scarce. Goddamn Kansas.

Old Demons Die Hard

I started smoking again today. I haven't been smoking, and I've been doing really well. I've been sticking Twizzlers in my mouth when I feel like smoking, and that's been pretty effective. Then this morning, I woke with the taste of smoke in my mouth, as if I'd been smoking all night. I didn't go anywhere last night, and no one smokes in the house. It's very, very strange.

I was trying to shake that feeling, from the second I woke. I showered, and dressed, and all I could think was "Buy cigarettes! A Marlboro Light would taste so good!", and I tried to move on with my day. I was so grouchy today, I thought I was getting my period early. I was snapping all over people, getting angry and frustrated. I yelled at almost everyone today. It's been horrible.

Then, this afternoon, I went to a big-box retail store I used to work at to pick up some supplies for a project I'm working on. I was with the BF, and ran into an old "fling", and I gave him a hug, and I hugged the fling maybe an extra half second (on purpose, because I was feeling so spiteful), and the BF just lost it once we left the store. We yelled and yelled at each other in the car, and I grabbed a cigarette out of the console and lit it. The first inhale literally tasted like cherry, it felt so sweet and refreshing. I enjoyed it all the way down to the butt, then flicked the butt out the window. I am still upset about it.

So WEAK!!!!

Weekend at Berthas!

Why do some people find it necessary to watch the same movies/DVDs over and over again? We got all the seasons of The Office on DVD. I have watched all three seasons of The Office about 4 times in the last couple weeks. It's ridiculous. I am totally burned out. I love the show, but I'm annoyed. I can't keep watching the same thing. Ridiculous.

In other news, I was booed this weekend. I am a pretty popular lady, pretty easy to get along with. Most everyone likes me upon meeting. So I was shocked to be the one to cut the party OFF, mainly with my college skills. Embarrassing, but I was wasted, and I think it was completely hilarious. In fact, I can't think about it without smiling and laughing. I had so much fun. Also, I drank a LOT. Enough to kill a pony, a la Megan Mooney. If you know who she is, great, if not, look her up. I also did a chinese fire drill in the drive-thru line at a fast food restaurant. Well, there were 6 people in the car, and only two of us did it, but whatever. We had fun.

H is blogging more. I am interested. Will be reading more and more!

You May Now Kill Your Bride

So Becs was talking on her blog about a strange wedding she went to recently, and it gave me the idea to post about my insane wedding. Bridezillas are usually driven insane by taffeta-pushers, and as laid back as I am, I about lost my mind on my wedding day. The problem is the pressure. Everyone pressures you because they want your "day" to be about "you two". And by you two, they really mean whoever's standing up there in the skirt. I never thought I'd be someone that gave a shit about my wedding, that I would be chill and drink and just say "whatever" to it all, but my wedding was a total series of unfortunate events. I'm going to post them here, and you'll see we Bridezillas aren't nitpicky, we're just fucked from beginning to end.

Excerpts from "my (horrible) day":

*Awoken at 6am by blender sound. My sister rushes into the guest room I'm sleeping in with a frozen margarita. I proceed to drink 4 pitchers on my own, since I'm hungover from my shenanigans the night before.

*Dropped off at hair appointment at 9am on a Sunday morning-no hairdresser, no hope for another hairdresser on a Sunday-left my cell phone and purse in car, have to beg bystander for phone-hairdresser skank answers, acts like it's no big deal and finally arrives at 10am.

*Cake arrives at our reception hall and topper is totally wrong, delivered from out of town that morning, and no time to change it. Cake topper is flowers with garland, which leaves greenery shavings all over my cake.

*Dress, at final fitting two days before, fits. Dress straps, day of, falls off my shoulders incorrectly, because I've been too careful about my eating and have lost too much weight in TWO FUCKING DAYS!!!

*I am still drunk and it's a half-hour to showtime.

*Lady that was supposed to do my makeup forgot her makeup at home-too late to do anything about it, have to do my own makeup in the car.

*Wedding starts at 11:30 across town, and it's 11:20. My father is a stickler for not driving fast, so I am stuck begging for a cigarette in his car going 15 in a 45.

*I arrive 15 minutes late. The only good news? The minister hasn't grown impatient waiting on me, because she's not fucking there!

*It's 95 degrees outside at 11:45am. Sweating so bad there are crazy white lines in my pantyhose.

*My sisters bought me something new and something blue, a pretty necklace with a chain that immediately tangles in the ridiculous amount of curls I have going in the back. It pulls my hair for the rest of the day.

*Minister shows at 12:10, blames traffic, and completely forgets the vows and ceremony I had put together. I have to go to the car and bring my print-out, which she sticks in a bible about half the size of the paper, so it looks like she's reading an e-mail.

*Realize seconds before I walk up the aisle that I forgot to put on a slip, and everyone's gonna be able to see my panties.

*The person in charge of the music has a CD, which I made that morning, with 4 tracks on it. I labeled the CD and the case has a sleeve which says "#1-Men's procession, #2-Maids and Flowergirl Procession, #3-Bride's procession, #4-Bride and Groom Procession. Make sure to turn the music down SLOWLY before changing tracks". This person turns the music up to 11 (you know what I'm talking about), turns on track 1, never turns it down, and manages to never change the track, but restart track 1 about ten times.

*My dad's heart-to-heart before we go up the aisle is blown off completely by me telling him "Hang on one sec, dude" and flipping off the music guy as hard as possible.

*Track 2 starts, and my sister is smoking a cigarette, my other sister is sitting down around the corner. I have to hustle them up and get my double maids of honor MOVING.

*My flower girls all cry and none make it up the aisle.

*I'm not sure what to do at this point, since the music dunce finally got the track right for the march of the maids, so I just grab my dad's hand and walk up the aisle to their music. Everyone stands up when I'm at the alter, and not when I'm walking up, because they're totally confused.

*As soon as I get up there, track 3 starts.

*My dad gets confused as to what to do once he hands me off to my husband, so he just stands there awkwardly.

*My husband's ring doesn't fit this morning, even though it did yesterday.

*Ceremony takes WAY less time than I anticipate.

*Brother is choked up in front row. The explanation later is that he thought the vows I wrote were really beautiful, and it moves him to no end. I keep staring at him instead of my husband. He looks at me with tears in his eyes and shakes his head. I think he means I shouldn't have gotten married. I flip him off behind my bouquet, which I NEVER handed off to my Maid of Honor.

*It's time for us to walk out. Guess what song comes on? If you said track #1, you are right. My husband squeezes my hand. I try to calm down. We start walking away and the track starts over. I say "Seriously, guy?!"

I won't even go into the reception, but I will say this: It was worse than the wedding, and I lost it just as many times. All I was trying to do was personalize my day. I got thrown off at every turn. It sucked. The only good part? I got to spend all night eating cake in a hot tub with my best friend/husband with zero guilt.

So that's what you have to look forward to, gals. Giddy up.

And Bertha was her name-o!

So my name is now B. Kick ass. I was digging it at the first suggestion. It's only fitting, since you all found me because of Harlan. So here I am, B'n it up. I don't have anything else to report, this day was too long and stupid to go into.

I will say this, though: when people you eat with know you're dieting, cheating feels even worse.

Penis or Vagina? Wages, please!

I didn't realize until this morning, when I was taking a look at a comment, that saying "this guy" makes people think you're a dude. I have always said "this guy" and thought it was just understood that I am a girl. No one in person has mistaken me for a guy, sans one time in high school when my hair was super duper short, but the lady was old and it was from behind. Anyway, I'm a girl. Not very girly, but a girl. I dress up nice but don't wear panties, I speak intelligently but curse like a sailor, and I have, literally, changed a tire for a boyfriend while wearing a skirt and heels. Sorry for the confusion

In the spirit of So Very Alone, I was thinking I need to come up with a name for myself on here. I don't know what to choose, so if anyone has any ideas, let me know. I have a name I liked when I was a child, but it's pretty lame, now that I think about it, "Candie Jewels" sounds more like a stripper's name than a video-game playing, cursing, drinking, smartass girl. Or maybe a mobster dude's name, I don't know. Anyway, let me know if you think of anything.

Also, my last post was made in extreme anger. I'm feeling kind of bad about it. This feeling is amplified by the fact that my friend did read the post, did figure out it was her, and I got another 4am phone call. Awesome. Anyway, the jist of the phone call was that I am kind of a bitch, and I was being rude, and I shouldn't publish our conversations anywhere. I wouldn't agree to that, so she just gave up and we got off the phone. I'm really not a terrible friend, but when you're rude to me, or you are waking me up to talk about something that's not an emergency, we have a problem. Namely, you.

Today's my interview. I'm slightly nervous. I still need to go shopping for some accessories, and I need to get my hair straightened. Other than that, I'm golden. I'm interviewing with two guys, and my technical knowledge and charm can usually dazzle them pretty easily. I think guys really love girls that are techies. Who am I to change that stereotype? At least they're not staring at my boobs.