You don't have to tell me I'm inappropriate. I already know and I'm not changing.

I'm kind of a sarcastic asshole.

I kind of like it that way.

However, In the journey that I call my life, I've found that it kind of separates me from the constant norm.

And sometimes that makes me doubt myself.

It makes me wonder if I truely belong where I've chosen to be.

I say fuck a lot.

I may buy expletive onesies for babies because I find them hilarious.

I consider booze to be one of the best gifts to give for pretty much any occasion.

I have a hard time being around tightly wound, judgey people who have no sense of humor.

Can anyone truely go through this crazy fucked up world that we live in without a sense of humor!?

I have my own religion.

I do things on a *planned* whim.

I crave spontaneity. I crave individualism. I crave to be DIFFERENT.

Different makes me tick.

This post may not make sense to most of you, and that's ok. Right now I'm using this blog as my outlet. My personal, most intimate thoughts to be noted, where I can read them over and over again to remind myself that traditional is boring and while I may get knocked around for hunting down uniqueness, In the end, I wouldn't have it any other way.

(Insert cheesey quote here:)

I'd rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I'm not.

Instead of a subtle hint from God, it took an ass raping for him to get his point accross.

Dude.

So, every year there's this big ol' golf tournament in Wendover, Nevada.

It's kind of a family tradition that everyone goes.

Nothing's better than crossing state lines for booze, blackjack and discount liquor stores, with family nonetheless.

This year it was my turn to be the designated driver.

Last year my motherinlaw was the D.D. and my sisterinlaw and I took it upon ourselves to get pant-shitting-plowed and extremely obnoxious the entire 2 hour drive there.

It was pretty much the balls.

The tournament this year was held last weekend.

I was pretty stoked for a vacation.

Until all the signs from GOD started hailing down on us that it wasn't meant to be.

First of all, we started our day off with a little light shopping. I couldn't find ANYTHING. I was in a funk.

Mommyinlaw even said, "OK, if you don't buy something in this store I'm seriously going to kick your ass"

Bad shopping days are ALWAYS bad omens.

Not to mention I hadn't even had my cup of coffee that morning so I was an extremely assy-tired crab.

I found a coffee joint in the mall. I asked for a simple cup of black coffee and they looked at me like I had a vagina growing on my forehead.

My motherinlaw started talking "swanky coffee shop foofy lingo and told me to order a tall skinny girl chia latte coffee on the rocks with a double shot of awesome and ribbons and glitter on the side"

Fuck. What's a girl gotta do to just get one simple. glorious. cup. of. black COFFEE!?

I got my coffee and a chicken sandwich and we were on our way.

We stopped at a gas station to fill up on gas and beer and for me to get into the drivers seat. It had been a minute since I'd driven a stick *That's what she said* So I was a little nervous but I learned how to drive on a stick so I knew I could handle it once I got used to the clutch.

We had a full tank and cooler and we were ready to go.

Until the car wouldn't start.

I turned the key. Nothing.

I turned it again. Nothing.

My motherinlaw says "Oh my god, do you know how to drive a stick?!"

Uh, YEAH, I do... on a car that RUNS!

We popped the hood to start tinkering around with only god knows what. Motherinlaw said something about putting water in a battery or some shit. Then she she said " I KNOW! You push us! You push us and the car will start!"

Sadly, I fell victim to her idea. I squared up with the bumper and right as I was about to show off my man muscles I said "Just try, once more"

She did and by golly, that son of a bitching car started! Thank you Jesus for small miracles.

And sparing people from no doubtingly seeing one big white ass crack popping out of jeans pushing a jetta.

Phew.

I hunkered down in the drivers seat with my diet rockstar, mommy at my side with a cold beer in her hand and we took to the road.

We found ourselves in the middle of nowhere quite quickly.

We were cruisin, shit was great. Then I realize I was going 81 and there was a cop up a head in the slow lane NOT going 81. I hurried and slowed down... and just in case that fucker was going to pull me over... I did something so brilliant I surprised myself!

I got behind him.

Heh. What now?!

But he one upped me.

He started going 45 mph on a god damn freeway.

Now, If I would have tolerated the 45 mph speed limit I'da definitely been a red flag of guilty to him, Right? So I got back in the saddle of the fast lane and did a respectable 70.

I had no idea what the hell the speed limit was, but I was SURE it was NOT 45.

Sure enough, 5 miles down the road I saw the cop increase his speed from 45 to 90 to get directly up my ass with lights-a-flashin.

"Shit. Mommy! Hide the beer cans! Fuck balls. Hide em! SHIT. Cover them up! Hurry! Hurry! I can still see your beer in your can coozie! Hide IT! GOD, GOD, GOD. Did you cover up the open bottle of Ice 101?! Hide hide hide hide. SEATBELT. Jesus. Mother bitch. Ohmigod I'm shaking"

Mommybear had just lit up a cigarette. The officer came to her side of the window. She didn't think that he'd appreciate her smoking in his presence so she did the first thing she could think of. She FLICKED her cigarette OUT the window IN FRONT of the Highway patrol man.

At that point I just bent over and said "Cuff me."

He asked if we knew why he'd pulled us over. Of course we batted our eyelashes and said in the sweetest voices ever. "why, no sir"

"Your registrations expired"


I stupidly stuttered "Uh, Uh, Sorry, this isn't my car. Oh, I mean, It's not stolen. It's hers" *Points to mother in law.*

She says "It's mine. And I didn't even know it was expired, I motherfuckinswear!"

We handed him all the paperwork he asked for and as he headed back to his squad car to check for warrants or whack it or whatever the hell they do that takes them like FIVE years to figure out, we started taking stupid pictures with my camera of us two with a squad car in the background. (It's sooo going in the 2010 family scrapbook).

He let us off with a warning in exchange for our promise that we'd get it taken care of as soon as we got back to town, as we twirled our hair and played with our nipples.

If he would have played his cards right and threatened us with a fine that striking, young, handsome, highway patrolman probably could have landed himself a blow job in the middle of the desert.

He asked if we had anymore questions.

"Uh, yeah.... So.. .What's the speed limit on this road, I haven't seen any signs"

"It's 75 mam. I clocked you in at 81 right before you got behind me."

"Oh. *awkward giggle* OK. Well. Thanks for everything. OH, HEY, one more thing. Have you ever put water in a car battery?"

At that point I'm pretty sure our seductiveness attempt was blown to shit by our stupidity.

We finally arrived in Wendover. Shaken up a little but for the most part OK. We smelled like pee and tobacco.

The first stop was the discount liquor store of course.

Second stop. Hotel.

We were bound and determined to only make one trip so we each loaded up with probably well over 100 pounds of luggage, booze and snacks and shuffled into the hotel cursing profusely and panting heavily.

There we found out that we could NOT have a room key because our husbands didn't

A) Leave keys at the desk for us
or
B) Put our names on the reservation.

So there we sat. In the lobby of Montego bay with our piles of luggage, beer, tequila and chexmix damn near tears.

Madre went and talked to the manager and he "looked a little harder" and found our names.

Thanks for looking real hard the first time, troll!

We made our haul up to the room and freshened up.

The boys were still golfing so we decided it was time to drink and gamble.

And by drink and gamble, I really mean get one bud light bottle and lose $80.00 in 40 minutes.

It goes without saying that Wendover completely made me it's bitch.

The plus side? Quality time with some of my favorite people.

AND

I got to hang out with my dad.

We gambled and drank together. You know, spend totally normal quality daddy-daughter time.

Oh, and I got to see him and all of his friends get completely trashed and take turns hitting the "spin" button on slot machines they'd all put "group money" into.

Oh, and watching him check out the cocktail waitresses with a beer in one hand and a bag of nachos tied around his arm.

He didn't want to loose them.

I think at one point I had heard every one of his friends say how fucking good those nachos were going to be and that they were the best drunken snack EVER!

And that they planned on eating them on the roof.

So.

Wendover, you dirty dirty whore,

Thanks for the memories.

The very very very expensive memories.

Seriously, where do you even get off?

You think you're Vegas or something?

Psh.

We're so still fighting.

It's not so much lazy, as it is pant-shitting fear.

Not everything is the universes fault.
It's time I own up to my own laziness.

I could have gotten up this morning to run.
I really could have.
There was no blizzard outside.
The temperature was a toasty 20.
The roads were snow free for the most part.

I attempted to go to bed early last night so that I was guaranteed eight solid hours of rest before waking up at 5:45am to shuffle my pudgy ass around the neighborhood.

I like to read before bed. It takes my mind off of everything that may or may not be troubling me and it makes my eyeballs ache to the point of a nice, mindless slumber.

I was excited to start a new book last night that was recommended by my motherinlaw. I started reading and was anxiously awaiting my peaceful departure.

Until I read about kids running through a forest, tripping on a tree stump and matter-of-factly landing on A DEAD BODY.

Not just any dead body. A body where the eyes and mouth have been GLUED shut.

A body where ants were crawling through her nostrils and dried sweat and blood had left a trail of suffering upon her face.

A body who's hand had been sticking out of the fresh earth with fingers dangling down in a mangled mess from being CHEWED ON BY RABID DOGS!

I read to the point of my eyes being tired enough to shut and succumb to sleep without a fight.

I turned off my lamp and started thinking about my morning itinerary.

"I'm gonna wake up, take my NO Xplode, Change into under armour and OH MY GOD WHAT IF I FIND A DEAD BODY ON MY RUN!?"

"What would I even do!? No one is awake at that hour! There was a body found in this little city not too long ago, what If I come across something like that?! This shit really happens now-a-days. Even in this little rural farm town"

"Rural. Everywhere I run has at least 2-3 open fields along my way. What if I encounter a rabid dog? Or a wolf?! Or a mothafuckin MOUNTAIN LION?! I can't outrun a god damn jungle cat! I have weak knees!"

"It would smell my fear and devour me. Who around here would even intervene between me and a damn cougar?! No one. No one would. Why? Because I'm a dick and I don't like to talk to my neighbors, that's why!"

"I should really start being nicer to people"

"But what if me being nice gets mistaken for me wanting to die by the creepy neighbors who live on hillbilly row. They'll wait for me to jog by with my Ipod blaring in my ears leaving me completely unable to hear my attacker approaching me with a gag-rag covered in chloroform and they'll nab me and tie me up in their back yard with their 34 parted out old rusty combines and halfway-cars with creepy naked dolls laying on the dash and then it's just like that damn movie wrong turn!"

"I need to google sunrise time"

"7:03am. That's not gonna work. I need to be hitting the pavement by six a.m. SHARP."

At this point in the night I tossed and turned while debating back and forth with myself in a fear induced sweat.


I came to the conclusion that I've got one demented, ill-humored motherinlaw and the thought of my last meal being a protein shake was far more terrifying than tangoing with a puma or winding up somewhere between "bumfuck and you got a purty mouth" with toothless hillbillies hootin' and hollerin' about.

Not this time death, Not this time.

I'll live to debate waking up at the ass crack of dawn another day.

FACT: The universe is a dirty bitch.

I feel fat.




I haven't been able to stick to my usual crazy workout regimen due to working an insane amount of hours between both jobs, being sick with gamboo and the weather deciding to DUMP an approximate fuck load of snow down on us in the month of APRIL.




See, Universe, I think you're confused.




APRIL SHOWERS, MOTHER FUCKER, APRIL SHOWERS!




This snow bullshit is seriously cramping my style.



And my bulge.



Although, with 3 inches of snow on the ground it's perfectly acceptable to wear a hoodie in April.



Thus, hiding my bulge!



And enabling me to unbutton my jeans after stuffing my face full of nachos and beer.



OK, Universe, I take it back. You're not a dirty bitch.