I never claimed it was a GOOD blog post.

Wait a minute . . .

. . . what’s this?

Is it . . . could it . . . be?

A BLOG?

From LRC?

Yeah, don’t ask me what I just did there with that POKE thing. I don’t know, either. I guess I was trying to like conjure up images of poking something unrecognizable (like a blog post from moi). Because THAT’S the smartest thing to do. Why do we do that? Why do we poke stuff when we don’t know what it is? We (and when I say we I mean people. Sorry if you’re not a person) are fucking strange.

Bee Tee Dubs, while I was Google Image-ing pictures of poking (TWSS), I came across this:

Isn’t that horrifying? And the kid is all nonchalant, like, “Yeah, I just shoved a freshly sharpened pencil like, way far in my ear. What’s the big effing deal? Gimme a 40 and let’s superman some hoes.”

Aaaaanyhearingloss, yes. Your eyes are not deceiving you. I am blogging.

Why, you may ask?

Because LAWYERMAN IS AWAY.

And when Lawyerman is away, LRC PLAYS!

And by “play,” I mean blog, be a douche on twitter, reload tumblr every five minutes, and wait for someone to get online and talk to me while I drink Coors Light out of a can while getonmyhorse plays in the background on loop.

Obviously.

With my weekend to myself, I can’t decide if I’d rather

1. take advantage of the fact that I don’t have to cook a five course meal all weekend and eat like a bird… like I ate when I was 10 pounds lighter, pre-Lawyerman, and not feel like a fucking cow, OR
2. eat as much cheese as possible, just ’cause I fucking CAN. Not that Lawyerman would ever try to prevent me from inhaling a fortnight’s worth of sharp cheddar in two days (I just wanted to say fortnight), but because I equate cheese consumption with rebelliousness. Don’t ever say I didn’t live on the EDGE.

Both options sound lovely, but my guess is that option number two (huh. huh.) will reign supreme because CHEESE NEVER LOSES.

Plus I’ve already eaten like eleven slices of cheese.

So yeah.

I guess option number one is out.

While As Much Nothing As Possible is the only thing I’ll likely cross of my list this weekend, in two weeks I will be skidding into Philly international to visit THIS LADY.

Someone is going to have to invent a new word for epic after all that awesomeness happens.

I made a graphic to commemorate the occasion, but I can’t post it here because of that whole semi-anonymity thing, and it has our beautiful faces on it. But trust me. It’s beautiful. And tie-dyed.

Also, if you haven’t clicked the getonmyhorse link yet, I suggest you do that now.

SHUT UP WOMAN GET ON MY HORSE

So there you have it, I have spoken. To be honest, I mainly blogged because I wanted to post a comment on my future husband Jason Isbell’s blog and in the off chance he were to click forward to my blog, I didn’t want the first post he saw to be a post about my horrible asparagus farts.

Crazy Girlfriend Behavior

In every new relationship, I think every woman should be allowed a small amount of Crazy Girlfriend Behavior.

Now, by “behavior,” I don’t mean Facebook stalking his ex and Fed-Exing her a dead rabbit with the phrase STAY AWAY FROM MY MAN YOU LOOSE, FELLATIOUS WHORE stained in blood into its fur.

Rabbits are small. You can’t fit that whole sentence on a rabbit carcass.

Common sense, people.

I don’t even mean Facebook stalking any of his exes, like, at all. Festering rabbit carcass notwithstanding.

Trust me, girls. Don’t do it. You won’t like what you see.

The type of Crazy Girlfriend Behavior I fully endorse is this:

Writing A Passive-Aggressive Blog Post Shit-Talking His Ex-Girlfriend That May Or May Not Include A Fun Diagram That Took Twenty Minutes To Make In Photoshop!

Duh.

That was so obvious.

(Not only does this method work for current boyfriends’ exes, it ALSO works for ex’s current girlfriends [see last few sentences of this post]. Bonus!)

Here’s the thing.

The Lawyer?

Lives next door to his ex-girlfriend.

Yeah, you read that right.

The Lawyer could fart on his back porch and his ex could probably smell it ten seconds later.

I’m sure you can imagine just HOW FUN this is for me.

Let’s go in depth, shall we?

The way The Lawyer’s house is set up is like this (click to embiggen):

*Map not to scale and probably completely inaccurate. Oh look, trees!

(Oh yeah, I’m calling her Skinny McSkanky, because she’s 1) skinnier than I [also acceptable Crazy Girlfriend Behavior: being jealous of his ex because she is skinnier than you and giving her a moniker like Skinny McSkanky] and 2) duh, skanky.)

So The Lawyer and his ex-step-uncle live on a lakefront property together with a third house, the one that Skinny McSkanky rents from Lawyerman’s G-Pa. I guess The Lawyer and Skinny McSkanky started dating out of convenience. That, and they are both young, attractive individuals. ANYHOOSITS. Lawyerman told me things with him and S.McS didn’t end well. I didn’t ask for deets because 1) it’s none of my business and 2) if it had anything to do with anything sexual my brain would asplode right there and well, I just don’t want that happening.

Now, I must say this. S.McS has never been anything but nice to me and I am probably a major bitch for writing this post.

BUT.

I am allowed to be somewhat completely irrational because of:

Crazy Girlfriend Behavior.

Enough said.

ANYWAY. As you can see by that lovely map I made, the pool is adjacent to S.McS’s house. Despite this fact, the pool is shared by her, The Lawyer, and the Lawyer’s ex-step-uncle.

SO. Whenever The Lawyer and I want to go swimming, we have to be all up in S.McS’s backyard and shit.

It’s really not as bad as it sounds, but still. It’s not THE most comfortable thing to do.

I should mention here that this pool is not an ordinary chlorinated pool. It is filled and drained on a regular basis with spring water that is FREAKING FREEZING COLD. This makes it good for taking baths in. Which The Lawyer does from time to time, and apparently others use it for this purpose, too.

Because, next to the pool, on the edge of S.McS’s porch . . .

I found this:

And thought to myself:

AHAHAAHAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHha!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

BITCH HAS GOT EMBARRASSING DANDRUFF!!!!!!!!!

And immediately I felt better about myself.

I never mentioned it to The Lawyer.

Because these thoughts are allowed to exist in my head only.

And also apparently, on this blog.

(SHE EVEN GOT THE WAL-MART BRAND. BITCH DIDN’T EVEN SPRING FOR SELSUN BLUE)

I gotta P

The lovely, hilarious, and beautiful brookem over at Skrinkering Hearts did one of those posts where you are assigned a letter of the alphabet and then you have to blog about ten things you love starting with that letter. I wanted to participate, so brookem assigned me with the letter P. If you want to participate, leave me a note in the comments and I’ll assign a letter to you. Fun fun!

10 Things That Make LRC’s Life That Much More Enjoyable, Beginning With The Letter P

1. Purring. Those of you who are cat lovers can attest to this—there is nothing more soothing than the sound of a cat purring in your ear. Especially when kitty has that look of contentment on her face, eyes closed and an expression that you’d swear was a smile, if only cats could smile (pictured below). My kitty, Pepper (yep, that’s her in the picture!) is the BEST at purring and snuggling. She has it down to a fine art. I’m one who has to have a low, constant buzzing noise to go to sleep (box fan, let’s elope) and Pepper’s purring soothes me to sleep almost immediately.
2. Photography. This has become a hobby of mine over the past year, since I got my current job and hence inherited the task of handling a big, fancy DSLR camera. The one I use is pictured below. I want to purchase one of my own someday (D90, I’m looking at you), but right now it’s just not in the budget. Thanks, Murray, for leaving me with a mortgage I can’t afford. You’re super! I recently went to a photography class so I could figure out how the eff to use the damn thing. I’m still pretty green at this, but one day I hope to improve and who knows, maybe I can make a side job out of it, photographing events and such. Right now, though? It’s just a hobby.
3. Pearls. They’re just so classy and timeless to me. I love them in any size or color. I’ve begun my own collection; I just can’t stop. My attire can seem a bit stuffy sometimes, what with the cardigans and argyle that can be found in abundance in my wardrobe, but I just love the classic look. Pearls just seem to complement my clothes nicely. Boys: no pearl necklace jokes here, mmkay?
4. Pretzels. Almost every time I go to the mall I get one of those gigantic, greasy, salt-covered pretzels from Auntie Anne’s and devour it in one sitting with a little tub of cream cheese. I don’t care how many calories these things pack. They’re just too damned good for it to matter. And none of that sugary shit. I want my pretzel with big ol’ fat grains of salt all over it. Bring it.
5. Photoshop. I use this on a daily basis, for work and personal use alike. I’m no expert, but I’ve done my fair share of photo editing and illustration in my day. Those of you who use it know exactly why I’m singing its praises. Shit is AWESOME. You can take a totally crappy picture and fix it up. I always make sure to cover up blemishes and shine on people’s faces in photos. I never go too overboard with it (you don’t want the person to look freakish or not like themselves), but it’s great to be able to fix those little imperfections so you have a nice looking photograph. Also, the Pioneer Woman has some SUH-WEET Photoshop actions you can download. “Boost” is a gift from heaven.
6. Puppies. If you don’t like puppies, you have no soul and should probably leave my blog now. I don’t think I want to know you.(from CuteOverload.com)
7. Pulp Fiction. This is one of my favorite movies of all time. It’s so quotable. Most memorable scenes include: Vincent (John Travolta) accidentally shooting that guy’s head off, the infamous dance scene (I can’t check to see if that is a good video or not since I’m at work and YouTube is blocked, so I’m just gonna trust Google), the scene where Jules (Samuel L. Jackson) has the wallet that says “Bad Mother Fucker” on it, the Christopher Walken watch-stuck-up-my ass scene, Jules’ monologue about “laying vengeance upon thee”, the Mia Wallace drug overdose scene . . . I mean, I could go on and on. But I won’t. But I do watch Pulp Fiction pretty much every time it comes on television.
8. Playlists. I love making playlists for EVERYTHING. When I’m working out, when I’m cooking, when I feel like singing, when I feel like DANCING, when I feel like hating men, when I’m feeling sullen, when I feel like chicken tonight (again, at work—can’t check the link) . . . I just love having music to fit my mood. Life’s better with music. Try to disagree with me. (Yes, I actually do have a playlist called “I Feel Like Chicken Tonight.”)
9. Porch Sittin’. In my area of the South, it’s sunny and warm about 632 days of the year (I might be making that figure up) and I love sittin’ (not sitting) on the porch and knocking back a few twelve ouncers while the sun sets and that gentle breeze brushes my skin. Relaxation at its finest.
10. Peen. Duh. I’ve you’ve been reading this blog for more than five minutes you know what a nymphomaniac I am. I can’t get enough of the sausage. You know what I’m talking about—that sweet man meat.

All images were stolen from various sources, so sorry if I stole one of yours. Remember, if you want to participate, tell me in the comments and I’ll assign you a letter.

Got it bad

For those of you who wanted details on my bump ‘n’ grind sesh with NY:

PERVERTS.

I kid. I would totes want details, too, if I were you. Let’s just say, I made his man meat happy at least three times.

Ahem.

Things are going well between us. We didn’t formally discuss exchanging Christmas gifts this year, but I took the liberty of making something for him. Let’s backtrack for a second here.

A few weeks ago, we went to a basketball game at the college I work for. He saw banners on the wall of businesses who had donated x amount of dollars to our booster club. He jokingly mentioned he wanted his own banner up on the wall.

“Only I don’t want it to say ‘Go [name of basketball team]. I want it to say, “The [NY's really awesome last name] Society. With a big purple fist on it. And then underneath, it would say ‘Deal with it.’”

Yes, he has a very active imagination.

So I stored that bit of info in my memory banks, and decided that having that very sign printed for him would be the perfect Christmas gift. I knew he would appreciate it because I made it. It took me hardly and time or money to make it, so it wasn’t like I went out of my way in an obsessed stalker sort of way.

I e-mailed my file to a print company, and when I went to pick it up I said, “Yes, I’m here to pick up the sign with the large purple fist on it.”

I wish I could have been a fly on the wall when the print people saw that sign. I’m sure they thought, “What. The. Fuck.”

So I gave it to him with the warning, “I hope you think this is funny and not stupid,” and luckily, he thought it was hilarious. I told him I almost got a frame for it, but I didn’t know if he’d prefer it framed or not. He said, “Yes, I want to frame this and put it on the hood of my car.”

And NY? He bought me a gift, too! He bought me some very soft black gloves because my hands are always cold.

Awww…

I honestly cannot quit gushing about NY. Andy says he thinks it’s great that, at 25, I can still be this excited about seeing someone.

I love it when he musses up my hair in the morning and says, “Sexy!”

I love it when he gives me little smacks on the rear end . . . when he texts me to let me know the yams I brought him were “BANGIN!” . . . when he tells me he likes my Southern accent . . . when I catch him checking me out when I’m in my underwear and he tries to be slick about it.

Le sigh.

Rah Rah, Sis Boom Bah!

It still fits!

(Sorta.)

You can’t see the gaping hole in the back where I was unable to button and zip it all the way.

Hey,  I was thirteen when I last wore it! What do you expect??

Please ignore the horrible Photoshopping job (that’s Salma Hayek’s face, not mine obviously). I did it on my lunch break in between bites of my Chicken BLT salad from Wendy’s.

I will be wearing this to work tomorrow, with my letterman jacket (Scholar Athlete WHATUP) and some warm tights, but tomorrow night? Karen Carpenter, baby! I found a truly heinous seafoam green 70’s prom dress at Goodwill, and I will be ROCKING that shit with some stick straight, parted down the center hair. I couldn’t do the feathered look a la The Anorexic One because my hair isn’t cut like that, so I have to go for the next best thing.

I’ve gotta get a picture to show you all my dress when I’m wearing it because that thing is FIERCE.

I’ve already started practicing my rendition of “Close to You” should anyone not be able to guess who I am. I thought about drawing dark circles under my eyes (to look anorexically haggard) and carrying around a sign with a picture of a hamburger with a big “X” marked over it, but I thought that might be a tad offensive.

So what are YOU going to be for All Hallow’s Eve?