if you don't like avocados, then you don't like life.


Filed under: humor — avocadoexplosion @ 2:41 pm
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I rarely do anything for Halloween because let’s face it.  I am lazy.  Dressing up takes a lot of time and energy and money, all of which I don’t have right now.  I always have grand ideas of what I’m going to dress up as, but they never pan out because I never actually go to get the stuff to make a costume.  This year, I was going to be Old Gregg:

But I didn’t.  Although I really did want to wear a pink tutu and seaweed hair and drink Bailey’s from a shoe.  Dammit, why can’t I get my act together.  OH WAIT it’s the same reason I have piles and piles of clothes on the floor and drink wine that has been left out for days and has drunk flies in it.  I guess there’s still time to go get a costume, but my lazy ass is staying in my house and handing out sugar to children.  To celebrate Halloween this year, I decided to watch scary movies/TV shows for an entire weekend (cliche, I know) and talk about them here.

  • Paranormal Activity.  The only reason I watched this was because it was on my Netflix streaming and I don’t have to pay for it.  Holy shit.  This movie was terrifying. I spent the whole night making Riley hold my hand so I could squeeze the shit out of his fingers when I got scared.  The only thing was that I didn’t like the end because it reminded me of Devil’s Advocate when the demons twist the faces of the people that you think are people but they’re really demons.  You know that part.  It looked cheesy then, and it looks cheesy now.  Other than that, I kept yelling at Katie and Micah to GET OUT OF THE HOUSE NOW JESUS CHRIST WHAT ARE YOU DOING GET OUT.  Seriously, why don’t people just leave when these things happen?  After we had finished watching it, Riley went over to a friend’s house, which I thought was just rude, seeing that I was obviously in a state of terror.  Fifteen minutes later, I went into the kitchen to get another glass of wine (what. don’t judge me) and saw A CAR PULL OUT OF OUR DRIVEWAY.  I called Riley STAT and was like hey were you sitting in the car texting for 15 minutes and just left? and he goes no, I’ve been at Tim’s this whole time, fool.  Ok he didn’t say fool.  But here’s what freaked me out- our driveway is pretty long, and this car was right next to the house- it wasn’t like they just pulled in halfway and then turned around again.  Please tell me that wouldn’t freak you out.  Then when we went to sleep I made Riley hold me so nothing would drag me down the hall into the closet and then I freaked out because he was breathing heavily when he went to sleep which OF COURSE made me think that he had been possessed and was going to murder me in my sleep.

excuse me...i think you have something on your face...like a demon

  • Paranormal Activity 2.  That’s right, fools.  I watched this one the VERY NEXT MORNING after the other one.  It wasn’t as good because I pretty much knew the story by then, but it was still scary.  I certainly did not like when the demon thing hurt the dog, and let me tell you why.  It’s because I like dogs better than people in general.  Also, I will be going to see Paranormal Activity 3 in theaters very soon because why wouldn’t I.  These movies are fantastic.
  • 1408.  I had seen this before quite a while ago and didn’t remember it.  I now know why.  Mostly because I love John Cusack in High Fidelity and in 1408 he has like 3 more chins and some love handles and a mullet and some large suitcases that he seems to have stuffed under his eyes.  You know, I think I’m about to break the woman code here…I have begun to realize that I only like John Cusack in High Fidelity.  I know…it’s sacrilege.  High Fidelity is my favorite movie of all time, which is enough to make me watch any John Cusack movie that was ever made, but most of them just disappoint me.  Oh wait, I do like Serendipity.  I guess I like Grosse Pointe Blank too.  Also, it does not snow or rain in hotel rooms.  1408, you are dead to me.  DEAD I SAY



  • The Human Centipede.  Another one on Netflix streaming.  Most of Netflix’s streaming movies are a load of poopy crap, and this was no different.  I watched about 45 minutes into it (wherever he sews the two girls and the dude together) and then got RULL bored with it.  Obviously the basis of it is unbelievable.  Just FYI, if someone’s asshole is ever sewn to your mouth, you have been a complete idiot in life and have made bad decisions.  Again, the thing that really got me was the 3 dogs sewn together.  No dog deserves that.  Slutty girls?  Maybe so.


  • The Walking Dead.  This TV series came highly recommended, but I am a huge skeptic of zombie movies/TV shows BECAUSE THEY ARE ALL THE SAME.  I exclude 28 Days Later, Shaun of the Dead, and Zombieland here because the first is really pretty great, and the second two are HILARIOUS.  The Walking Dead is basically a zombie movie stretched out into a TV series, which bores me.  Also, why do people in these shows that are supposed to be set in our century act as if they have never heard of zombies?  Pretty much everyone I have ever known knows what a zombie is, but it’s like people are hearing about the Internet for the very first time in the year 2011 when they encounter zombies.  Stupid.  Where have you been living?  Under a rock?  Maybe that’s why zombies are invading your poorly prepared town.

It's almost a gift of some women to make ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING slutty. ZOMSLUT 2011

I think I’ll dress up as haven’t-showered-in-2-days girl tonight.  Oh wait, I don’t have to dress up for that.  Bahahaha.  I wonder if I can find a way to make it slutty.

This is what happens when you look up "slutty hippie" on google image search.


A booty ain’t nothin’ but a butt. You heard it here first. October 27, 2011

Filed under: humor — avocadoexplosion @ 3:36 pm
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Here is a list of what I’ve been thinking about lately.  You will see by looking at it that I don’t think about things that are of huge consequence, but if you think I care then you would be wrong.

  • Animals.  Specifically, why do my animals follow me everywhere.  I have four pets.  One cat lives upstairs because she hates the rest of them so I don’t see her often, but there are two cats and one dog downstairs.  For anyone who was wondering, this is too many pets.  Yes, I said it.  All three of the downstairs animals are up my ass at every moment of the day.  I can’t even lock myself in a room for five minutes away from them because they whine and scratch at the door.  Sometimes they get in fights trying to get into the bathroom to be with me while I’m pooping, which I don’t appreciate.  I spend half of my time tripping over at least one animal and sometimes all three.  I don’t know why they like me so much.  If someone yelled at me as much as I yell at them, I would hate that person and probably plan ways to kill them in my free time, but it seems like all my yelling at their shenanigans just makes them love me more.  Also, aren’t cats supposed to be antisocial?  I want a refund.

I made this picture at work:

That’s a steaming pile of poop in the righthand corner next to Buckley.  I don’t think it’s necessary to explain why that’s there.

I work for a very un-corporate corporation where we make paintings like this about what we see all day when we’re at home.  Here’s another one that my team leader did:

Yes, that is Jerry Springer.  The shoes are supposed to be the shoes that the women on Springer take off before they fight each other and pull each other’s hair.  I’m not joking.  Also, why do they only allow mutants on that show.  More importantly, why does my team watch Springer on a regular basis is the real question here.

  • Debt.  I am out of it.  It feels like the best thing that has ever happened to me.  People always told me it would feel like this, but I didn’t believe them.  It’s like hot chocolate with marshmallows made of unicorn shit.  Everyone knows that unicorn shit is a delicacy.  HUSH.
  • Cleanliness.  I have started to be cleaner, but there are still some things that need work.  Like the other day, I left a bottle of wine uncorked.  There was a little still in there when I was cleaning up after a few days (yes, it takes me a few days to clean up anything), so I was like cool I’ll just finish it off.  I poured it into a glass and went off to do something else, not thinking to look into the glass before I took a big gulp of it.  A gulp that contained a black fly and probably 10 fruitflies.  I spewed wine all over the floor and the worst thing is that when I went to clean it up, the fly was still wriggling and alive, dying slowly in wine spit.  Ugh.  I think I drank all the fruitflies and also the wine tasted like vinegar at that point.  Next time I will look into the glass before I drink.
  • Grocery stores.  I will kill all of them.  Grocery stores are literally the worst place in the universe, even before flea markets.  I hate them so much that I will go hungry for days and just eat flour and uncooked rice before I make myself go into one.  Where I live, there is a Food Lion, Harris Teeter, and a hippy grocery store.  I hate all of them equally for different reasons, which is unfortunate because food is one of my all-time favorite items.  They also contain weird shit that I didn’t even know existed, like this:


And this:


What is that?  Is that an octopus?  Who is eating octopus on a regular basis and buying it at the Food Lion?

  • Protests.  There are a lot of protests going on lately.  There is no way I could ever go to one, and I will tell you why right now.  One time I went to a George Clinton show at the House of Blues in Myrtle Beach, which is tiny, and I almost hyperventilated.  Unless I am drunk, I will not even think about going anywhere with crowds like that.  The only good thing to come out of that George Clinton show was I heard a song that goes “a tail ain’t nothing but a long booty and a booty ain’t nothing but a butt”.  I don’t know how people get away with writing songs like that.  I guess if you look like George Clinton then you can do anything.  I certainly could not pull that off.

Online shopping. I hate you. June 16, 2011

Filed under: humor — avocadoexplosion @ 9:29 am
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Ok I never EVER shop online, and I will tell you why right now.  It is because NOTHING EVER LOOKS IN REAL LIFE LIKE IT DOES ONLINE.  This is one of my cardinal life rules to follow.

NUMBER ONE. Never eat anything that falls on the sunroom floor because the sunroom is where the cats’ shitbox is and you will get shit in your food even if it is tiny microscopic.  And then you will die.



Recently, I violated rule number three thinking that I could somehow skirt around the terrible consequences that come with it.  NO.  I found this website a few weeks ago and was like asld;kfjasldifui yay fun clothes!!!  My birthday is in two weeks, so I thought it would be a nice birthday present to myself to get these:

Yes, I do always buy myself a birthday present for my birthday. I don't know why. Probably because it's an excuse to buy something. Whatever. You do the same thing. Don't judge.

I ordered them and anxiously awaited their arrival on my doorstep.  THESE WILL BE THE SHOES THAT SHOOT ME INTO SUPERSTARDOM, I thought.  Ok I didn’t really think that because we all know that shoes are incapable of making someone famous.  Unless of course, you are her:

It's like a glittery elephant had sex with a shoe and this is what came out. FABULOUUUUUUUS

I was actually at the office (I know, right…I work from home…it was an anomaly) the day that I got the email that my lovely superfantastical boots had arrived.  I rushed home, let the dog out of the crate, peed real fast, jerked open the front door, and delightedly ripped open the cardboard box that my boots were mailed in.  Seriously I was so excited that when I was ripping the damn thing open, it gave me a papercut.  Really.  Not kidding.  It’s a little pathetic.  I even got mad and was like JUST OPEN GODDAMMIT THERE’S NO TIME!!!!  THIS IS AN EMERGENCY

I opened them and was like…ok I think we can work with this.  Maybe.  Ok these look a little big.  I’ll just try them on just to see.  I tried them on and HOLY SHITBALLS BATMAN LOOK AT THE CALVES THEY ARE HUGE GAPING HOLES.

Ok so I know it's not that obvious in this really badly taken picture (THANKS A LOT RILEY) (KIDDING), but there is a 1.5-inch gap from my calf to where I'm pulling out the rest of the boot. THAT IS NOT RIGHT.

I don’t have gigantic calves.  I’ve been running a lot lately, but even then.  Even then do I not have calves that could literally stop up the trunk of a glittery elephant (that also has sex with shoes).  I could fit my dog and all three of the cats in one of these stupid boots.

DAMN YOU ONLINE SHOPPING!!!!(imagine me raising my fist to the heavens and shouting)!!!!  I thought I was safe with ordering shoes because A) they usually fit without you trying them on and B) let’s face it.  Women love shoe shopping because shoes are the one thing that don’t make women feel bad about their bodies.  That and jewelry, but many women seem to like shoes better for some odd reason.  Here’s what makes this even worse: I HATE HEELS.  I HATE THEM.  HATE THEM HATE THEM HATE THEM.  I used to have these shoes in 6th grade:


I have been looking for shoes my whole life that are both fashionable (I realize now that silver Birkenstocks are not fashionable and claim no responsibility for my fashion choices before the year 2007) and comfortable but like actually comfortable not like hey these tiny heels are so comfortable to walk on THEY’RE NOT I KNOW THEY’RE NOT, DON’T LIE.  Do these mythical shoes exist?  DO THEY?!?!?!  I thought that maybe I could try to wear some heels that were also boots (which means my legs and feet wouldn’t be trying to fall out of them) and that had chunkier heels so that I wouldn’t look like a baby giraffe figuring out how to walk.  But no.  I was punished for my presumptuousness.

So then I got these instead:

These are like Poison had a baby with a shoe. Or like the 80s took a shit. Whatever.

And I wore them to our show last Thursday.  And that was a mistake.  I am already 5’8″ without help and with these, I’m more like 6 million feet of awkward bobbing and weaving.  People were like looook your shoes are so prettayyyyyy and I was like thaaaaanks I may soon die an awful death of shoe huuuuurt and sufferiiiiiiing.

This concludes this life lesson (really it’s for me, not you).  I realize that you probably can wear heels and you are probably really good at it, for which I commend you.  I, however, will be sticking to more “sensible” shoes, i.e., boring old-lady shoes.  Additionally, I will not be ordering anything online in the foreseeable future because MONKEYSHIT/ROTTENCOCONUTS AND DON’T YOU FORGET IT BITCHES.

SAS = SEXY ASS SHOES. if only.


welcome to the house of shit and piss and dirty laundry mountains. April 27, 2011

Filed under: humor — avocadoexplosion @ 1:18 pm
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Riley and I are disgusting people. Individually, we are kind of dirty but tolerable. Together? I hesitate to even tell you about this for the simple reason that you will probably defriend me on facehole and in real life and you will never want to come over to my house and have a taxidermy tea party with me.

This is real. Someone actually stuffed all these little dead kitties and made it look like they were having tea together. Oh, if only that happened with alive kitties. My life would be so much better.

Apparently, Riley and I never had to clean up after ourselves when we were growing up. EXCEPT THAT WE DID. We had good mothers who made us pick up our rooms and dust (oh god, the dusting. My mom made me dust EVERYTHING IN THE HOUSE EVERY WEEK. Including all her silly trinkets that you couldn’t even see dust on) and clean the bathroom and do the dishes. I lived in perhaps the cleanest house on the planet when I was growing up. At my father’s retirement party, they had a slide show where one of the pictures was a book on his desk at work entitled “How to Clean Almost Everything.” I am not kidding. There were a million jokes at that party about how clean Bill’s house is and how manicured his lawn is.

So maybe that is why I now clean nothing unless it gets to the point where I’m living in biohazardous waste. Maybe I am still rebelling against being made to clean so much during my youth, even though I am 28. If that’s not maturity, I don’t know what is. Let’s take a tour of the shit house. Come on in.

Here in the bedroom is where we have the ever-present “laundry mountain” at the foot of the bed, which is of course unmade. Usually, there are two mountains, one clean and one dirty. Somehow, I can tell them apart, probably by the smell. There’s a door off to the right side that goes upstairs to the music room, where my band practices. Sometimes, the laundry mountain has relocated itself to the floor, so they have to wade through it to get upstairs, and I have to wade through it every night to get into bed. I’m beginning to think of it as a conversation piece rather than a pile of laundry.  Also, yes, that’s a guitar sticking out of the laundry mountain.

This is exactly one week later. As you can see, the bed is still unmade, and the laundry mountain has grown slightly but not changed all that much. It's like a laundry monster vommed all over the bedroom.

This is the litterbox. We call it “The Igloo of Death.” It smells like shit, all the time. I swear my cats must go out and order the greasiest fast food they can find when I’m not home. Their poop smells like the apocalypse is coming. Sometimes, Charlie, our dog, sneaks into the litterbox and gets some “takeout.” You know what I mean.

That's Gatsby and Buckley. Look at their arrogant little faces. They're proud of how nasty they can make their litterbox smell.

We have another litterbox upstairs for Molly, Riley’s cat. She hates my cats because they try to play with her and sometimes eat her food. But mostly she just hates other animals and makes horrible trollish noises when she sees them. Anyways, Riley and I went on vacation a few weeks ago, and the door to Molly’s litter got stuck, so she peed and pooped outside of her box. Riley found the poo chunks when we got home and cleaned them up. Except the other day at practice, Jim pointed out that there were two renegade poo chunks beside Brian’s bass case. Whoops.

Then, there’s the dog. Look how cute he is.  DO NOT BE FOOLED.  Charlie has a problem with submissively peeing when he’s scared or nervous or excited. I seriously have watched him pee a) in his own bed, b) on two of his toys, c) on MY bed, and d) ON ME. Last week, we were at my parents’ house, and Charlie literally stood over me and peed on my legs when I was sitting on the floor. I couldn’t even do anything about it but sit there and let him finish peeing. I felt so violated. I’d like to believe that it was because my mom gave him way too much water and he wasn’t sure of where the bathroom was, but he was probably just mad at me about something.


Also, he pulls things out of the bathroom trashcan on a regular basis and makes them his chew toys. This angers me because a) he has roughly one billion chew toys that we bought him and b) I don’t like looking at my own tampons on the floor. They are not for decoration. They serve one purpose, and after that purpose has been served, I put them in the trashcan WHERE THEY BELONG. Also, Charlie, I saw that thong you chewed up. At first, I was like, how did my ass do that to that thong? How is it possible? And then I remembered that Riley said Charlie had gotten some of my underwear from the laundry mountain and had ripped it apart. Of course Riley didn’t throw it away. Why would he? No, he let me find it, put it on (it was from the clean mountain, I swear I’m not so dirty that I wear dirty undies), and then wonder why it felt weird and stretched out. DISGUSTING. When I asked him about it, he said “Well, I liked that one. I wasn’t ready to let it go yet.” ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Incidentally, this reminds me of one time in high school where I went swimming at the beach, then went home and pulled down my bathing suit to pee and found a small dead fish giving me the chicken eye from the crotch of my bikini bottom. Seriously. There was a dead baby fish right next to my hoo ha that entire time.


Also, our basement floods. It once flooded, by the way, WITH SHIT AND PISS. This was not our fault. Our pipes broke in half because of tree roots, causing the toilet to back up and sewer water to spew forth with a mighty rage all over the basement floor. To Riley’s credit, he cleaned it up stat with a shop vac. We have a song about it, it goes “suckin’ up poop with the shop vac, la la la.” We haven’t shared that song with many people, until now.

Our basement flooded again last week when rain fell from the sky with a mighty rage and did not stop for like 4 days. Thank god that this time it wasn’t poop all over the basement floor, just groundwater that seeped up from the pipes and in through the basement door. It’s still gross and it was too much for the shop vac to handle and the landlady has not sent anyone yet to clean it up so I live in a swamp. Also, it smells and I am forced to do laundry wearing Riley’s combat boots to wade through the swamp. It’s like Vietnam, if Vietnam involved more laundry and less guns.

Someone please help us. Send us a maid or maybe a life coach. We are drowning in our own filth.


Awful, unspeakable things. April 13, 2011

Filed under: humor — avocadoexplosion @ 12:26 pm
Tags: , , , , , ,

Sometimes, you do things in life that make you want to punch yourself in the face.  Or at least, you want to tell someone about it so that they’ll punch you in the face to get you living right again.

Today, I was driving around town, probably late to something (definitely late), and I was flipping through the radio stations (MOM SHUT UP I WAS FLIPPING THROUGH THEM WITH THE ARROWS ON MY WHEEL NOT ACTUALLY LOOKING AT THE SCREEN ON THE CAR RADIO AND TRYING TO DRIVE SIMULTANEOUSLY, I’M NOT GOING TO DIE FROM CHANGING THE RADIO STATION IN MY CAR AND RUNNING OFF THE ROAD OK. P.S. YOU ARE PARANOID).  Just kidding, my mom doesn’t read this blog.  At least I hope she doesn’t.  So anyways, I was driving around town, flipping through the stations, and I was like WHAT THE EFF @#&#%#$& WHERE IS ANY MUSIC AT ALL NOT EVEN IF IT’S NOT GOOD.  So finally, I get to something that I can at least stand, and I’m like ok fine whatever, we’ll see what this is.

If I’m absorbed in another activity, I have a tendency to block out the first activity until it gets to the point where I can’t ignore it.  This point came probably 37.3879 seconds into the song for me, when I realized I was listening to CREED.

Here is how I've always felt about Creed.

These things happen.  You’re listening to a song, and you are ok with it and maybe even getting into it a little.  Maybe you’re car-dancing, I don’t know.  I don’t have a camera in your car.  And if I did, that would be creepy and I would never tell you about it.  HUSH.

And then you realize that you’re listening to Creed.  Or worse, NICKELBACK.  OH MY GOD.  I have never hated music as much as I do when I hear it coming from Nickelback.  Thankfully, I have never found myself listening to a Nickelback song and liking it. It goes against the values I was taught growing up.

Rule #1: Don’t kill people. Rule #2: Don’t listen to Creed or Nickelback without making fun of it and vomming in your mouth. Rule #3: If you do find yourself listening to either of these two bands for more than 2 seconds without changing the radio station, you must automatically say 5 hail marys even though you are not Catholic and then cover yourself in mud and run screaming through your neighborhood yelling I HAVE SINNED I HAVE SINNED.

I think we all remember the facehole contest where the pickle had more fans than Nickelback. Sometimes I forget how nickel is spelled, like just then when I was typing it. Don't worry, it's nickel, not nickle. I checked.

Let's also take a minute to discuss how Chad Kroeger could be Zaphod Beeblebrox for Halloween. Maybe the pickle could serve as his other head.

Anyways. It’s like those times when I sit down and watch the TV Guide channel to find something on TV, and then I end up watching the damn TV Guide channel for like two hours instead of an actual show. On a related note, in college, my friend and I used to watch the TV Guide channel while he was waiting for my roommate to go study at the library. We even learned the song that they play in between segments and used to sing it ALL. THE. TIME. It was instrumental, so you can imagine how annoying that was if you were not the one singing it.

Does anyone remember when Debbie Matenopoulos was on the TV Guide channel? I do.

Getting back to embarrassing things. My local Borders is closing, so they’re having a sale.  I have been in there maybe twice in my whole life (I prefer cheap used books), but when I saw that huge banner pronouncing 50 TO 70% OFF, STORE CLOSING, I was like YES PLEASE THAT’S FOR ME, I’M BROKE BUT I STILL LIKE READING THE BOOKS. I wandered through the store for something like two days looking for books that I had at least heard of (it was kind of like when people have gone through and looted a gas station during a riot and they took all the good stuff and left nothing but off-brand candy and stale pretzels…god how I hate pretzels). I finally came up with three books, one of which was the 5-Factor Diet by Harvey Pasternak.  NO JUDGING.  CELEBRITIES LOVE THIS DIET, OK. Also it was five bucks. I cannot pass up a sale.

Anyways, I was reading it with great interest last week (not really, it sounds basically the same as a bunch of others and I’m pretty sure that weight loss/fitness = eat less and exercise more, WHATEVER COMMON SENSE), and I sat it down on my nightstand when I was done reading it for the night.

On Saturday morning, Riley went and picked up some French toast for me because he is the best boyfriend.  So I’m like oh ok I’ll just put my empty syrup container over here on the nightstand because I’m lazy and don’t want to get out of bed to throw it away.  And then THIS happened:


Seriously, syrup on your diet book?  That’s shameful.  Especially if it ripped off part of the title page because it was stuck to the nightstand. Yes, that happened.



Kegtober October 31, 2010

Filed under: humor — avocadoexplosion @ 10:41 pm
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Guess what, it’s Halloween.  You know what that means.  PARTEEEEEEEE


  • Our plumbing broke.  It was not fun.  Riley literally cleaned up shit off the basement floor.  This was not the “good” part of the weekend.  What’s worse is that we realized our plumbing had broken the day we were going to have a party.  Really good timing.  If our plumbing was a person, I would have punched it in its uggo face.
  • We had said party.  There were a lot of people there I didn’t know, which was ok by me.  Someone called the cops at 9:30 in the pm when our friends Brainbows were playing on the stage Riley and Brian, our bassist, made all by themselves in about an hour (ok, it was mostly Brian who made it.  He’s a carpenter.  Sorry, boyfriend.).  I have a feeling these people who called the police were old.  My neighbor Emily said they called the cops on her once for playing music too loud on her computer speakers.  I also have experience with having people rat me out for loud computer speakers.
  • We moved the party inside.  The couch had to be moved into the kitchen to make room for our stuff, and a lot of people sat on it while in said kitchen.  It was weird for me to see strangers on my couch in my kitchen, but it was also strangely gratifying.
  • Brainbows finished up their set, and we (SPIRALFIRE YES ALL CAPS CAUSE YOU KNOW THAT’S HOW I ROLL) went on around 11 or so.  It was super fun but we played our songs really fast, which made me tired and out of breath.
  • Everyone went home.  Some of us went to the 506 for a dance party.  It was fun for an hour or so, but I got tired really fast because I had already drunk a lot of PBR from the keg we got.  That was a bad idea.  It was also a running theme for the weekend.
  • We went home.  We passed out.
  • I got up at exactly 12:30 in the pm.  I drank a bunch of orange juice and then some coffee.  I played on facehole some.  I went outside and drank some more orange juice and coffee and sat around the new firebowl we have.  I should note that I had on my pajamas the entire time I was outside on Saturday, and that our neighbors came over to visit while I was in my pajamas.  Also, my hair looked like this:

    my hair may have looked like this, but i wasn't nakey.

    It is a wonder nobody has had an intervention for me yet.

  • Riley is obsessed with the firebowl.  We have really had a fire burning in it since Friday night, no joke.  It is now 11:17 in the Sunday pm and he is still out there burning sticks and dirt because there’s nothing else to burn in the yard.
  • I started drinking more PBR from the keg and picked up some pecans off the ground for a pie that I have yet to make.  I have a feeling this pie will not get made, ever, because pecans you have to shell yourself are a pain in the a-hole.  Sure, I’d like to be the kind of girl who shells her own pecans from the trees in the back yard and makes her own pecan pies out of them, and maybe at some point I will be that, but right now, I am the kind of girl who drinks the leftover PBR in the keg at 1 in the pm and throws things on the fire because it is fun to watch shit burn.
  • I finally took a shower at 4 in the pm and put on real clothes instead of pajama clothes.  I went back outside and looked at the fire and got black boogies as a result and hung out with neighbors and fun dog friend.  His name is Cota and he doesn’t care about anything except not expending too much energy and his toy soccer ball.  Also, he likes to pee.  This is something we have in common.  He probably likes to eat a lot too, which is also something we would have in common.
  • Riley and I went to eat at a restaurant, then we got stuff to make Smores and went to our friend’s apartment.  We stayed there a little while, then I got tired from having drunk too much leftover keg beer.
  • We went home.  I passed out.  Snore.
  • Sunday was not so fun.  I did the most work I’ve done on any given day since summer at least.  But then after I was done, I had more beer from the party.  Beer, beer, beer.  I am totally dehydrated, and I probably look like a wrinkly old woman.  Also, my beer gut has tripled in size since Friday.  On top of that, my diet has consisted of sugar cookies, m&m’s, and peanuts for the whole last 3 days.  Tomorrow, I will start P90X for the eleventy-millionth time and will eat like a normal person again instead of eating like I have a parasite and live in a third-world country.  What the hell is wrong with me.  Stop eating, please.
  • Headbanging during music playing = pain.  I don’t know why I haven’t learned this yet, but I haven’t.  I got into it a little too much on Friday night, and today, it feels like my neck and shoulders and back are on fire.  I took Advil, put Icy Hot on it, and took a bath with Epsom salts.  Nothing is helping.  Ok, the beer is helping a little.
  • I’m passing out.  Right after I drink the leftover Duck Rabbit sitting on my nightstand.  Yes, I had beer in bed the other night, and left it on the nightstand, and am drinking it lukewarm now.  At least I’m not wasteful.  Don’t judge.
The lessons from this weekend are:
  • No more headbanging because it makes you have hurty neck times 2010.
  • Fires + neighbors + dogs + pecans = fun
  • Beer.
The last one is not so much a lesson as it is a thing that exists, mostly in my stomach.
I leave you with my favorite essay of all time, and it’s seasonally appropriate, too.  This man is a genius, and I’m going to have a hundred grillion of his babies.  That’s right, I made up a new number.  It not only means “a lot” and sounds like “a bajillion,” which is now an accepted number in the world of mathematics (it’s not), but it also makes you think of grilling, which is fun and has to do with meat and nice dead flesh smells.
Happy Halloweenies!

drunk pumpkin. drumpkin.


I no longer take showers. Also, I have a band. September 24, 2010

Filed under: humor — avocadoexplosion @ 10:50 am
Tags: , , ,
Oh hay freends.  I know it’s been too long, but damn I’ve been busy.  I’ve been doing things like THIS.

we fight crime on the side.

Which is to say, go look at my band’s myspace because we’ve been laboring our well-defined asses off (ok they are not really that well-defined, we drink a lot of beer and eat cake and hots dogs sometimes) to get this thing off the ground so that we can actually be a real band that exists in the interwebs and not just in our attic!!!  Yayyyyyy!!!!!  And also our first show is this Sunday at the Carrboro Music Incestival…I mean Festival.  Incest is gross.  Ew.  2:00 in front of the Music Loft.  Be there or be a bobo lame-o.
Also here is another thing.  SOMETIMES I FORGET TO TAKE A SHOWER FOR LIKE 3 DAYS.  THAT IS THE TRUTH IT IS NOT A LIE.  Since the whole working-at-home thing started, I get up in the morning, I do work, I go to yoga or run, I work more, I eat, I pet the cats and then scream at them for doing something bad, I watch like maybe one second of a movie, I eat something else, I work more, then I go to bed.  And sometimes…I forget to take a shower that day.  And I’m like, OH IT’S FINE.  IT’S NOT LIKE I HAVE TO SEE ANYONE EXCEPT THE BOYFRIEND AND THE CATS.  And then…THEN.  This is where it gets tricky.  The next day I’m like…get up, do work, yoga/run, eat, yell at cats, eat, work, movie…wait, did I take a shower yesterday?  Yeah.  Of course I did.  Of course I took a shower.  I don’t smell.  I mean…I ran today, but I don’t smell.  Like…I kind of do in a way that people do if they are paranoid about if they smell.  But not really.  And THEN the next day comes.  And shower time feels like it was way in the past, and that it shouldn’t really be a part of my life anymore.  Until the boyfriend says that really, it should because my hair is clumping together from the grease and food crumbs that have gathered in it.  I have progressed right through dirty hippie status to dirty hermit.
I promise if you come to my show on Sunday, I will shower beforehand and be clean and sparkly for your viewing and listening pleasure.  Amen.