Captain Squid

So recently, my sister Lucy scored tickets to the Newport Wine Festival and decided to take me. Why? No idea. Probably because I’m so fucking fun. But the thing was, it was so fancy! Like, women are walking around in GOWNS drinking champagne with their boyfriends in salmon colored shorts and I’m just over here with my jeans and TOMS chugging whatever wine was given to me. (all red wine and all white wine tastes the same to me.) And some people were really snobby. The second we got there, Lucy and I chose the first wine table to visit and we were sampling some wines and the woman was in conversation with someone else and this old guy walked up (like he was walking with a stick up his ass) and held out his glass and said “PINOT NOIR.” He honestly sounded like a VILLIAN. No please. No anything. Thank GOD this woman finished her conversation with the people she was talking with before she gave this old fuck what he wanted at the snap of his fingers. Can you believe the SNOBS that are out there!? I’m the opposite. I let people cut me in every line I stand in.

So anyway, we’re walking around and there is fancy seafood everywhere. In fact, outside by the water, there is a bar where you can get full glasses of wine. And on the bar is A DEAD SQUID WITH A CAPTAINS HAT ON. What!? IS THIS HOW PEOPLE IN NEWPORT PARTY? “oh guys, we gotta set up for this party, where’s the dead squid? Party’s NOTHING without that fucker. LET’S DRESS HIM UP TOO, IT’LL BE A GAS.” This is right next to the random Porsche on the lawn that decided to chill there. But yeah, we had a fucking blast. I found the beer and chicken wings and went to town while everyone else ate fucking fish eggs and lobster shit and raw steak on BONE MARROW toast. I was in my jeans shoving chicken wings in my mouth. Some people just can’t fit in.

The other funny thing I have to say about the wine festival is the bathrooms. Now, Lucy has been to these festivals numerous times, so I knew we’d be drinking quite a bit so on the way there I asked a question that was very important to me. “Hey, what are the bathroom situations like?” to which she answered, “Well, they’re outhouses, but they’re like fancy outhouses…” to which I of course said UGH because outhouses are fucking outhouses, there is no way around it. I was wrong.

These outhouses were NOT outhouses. They were luxury bathrooms on WHEELS. I mean, I hate outhouses with a passion. I avoid them at all costs (like most people do I can imagine, especially girls. I mean, it always smells like poo and there are like 9 spiders of all different shapes staring at you the whole time and the toilet seat looks like it was just taken out of the fucking DUMPSTER and screwed on. I guess I feel so strongly about outhouses because of one night on the way to New Hampshire for a ski trip with the radio station. My car pool buddy and I usually have to pee a lot on the drive from Boston to New Hampshire. Usually, there are nice rest stops, you know, with normal restrooms. However, one night, we really had to go. Like bad. Probably all the beers we had. So we pull off to a rest area with a bathroom sign. Thank GOD!

Now, there are many shady things about this short encounter. One, it was pitch black. There were no lights whatsoever. And for some odd reason, when we left the car and walked to the outhouses, I didn’t realize it was pitch black. I didn’t bring my phone with me. So yes, it is just me walking into this outhouse not being able to see ANYTHING. So of course I hover, but something tells me that if I had a goddamn light, I probably would have found that the floors and walls of this outhouse were covered with shit. Just sayin. It’s a safe assumption.

So that’s the thing. An outhouse is at it’s most frightening when you walk into it IN THE COMPLETE DARKNESS on the side of a quiet New Hampshire highway. You know, where some crazed lumberjack with overalls and a ripped flannel shirt can come out of the woods at any moment and saw you in half with a chainsaw while you’re hovering above an outhouse toilet.

So all that being said, the “outhouses” at the wine festival were FANCY. They had legit stalls with LIGHTS on the inside walls and real doors that had fancy handles that actually locked. There were even sinks!!! That’s class. I peed with my pinky out each time I went.

I'm Back Bitchessss!

Alright. Since it's been basically a year since my last post, I've decided to make this one extra funny. I'm going to go all out, even though it's basically just my family and close friend (s)? that still read this shit.

I'm going to spend a lot of time on this entry. It is currently 11:10 on a Saturday morning, and I just might spend most of the day coming back and adding to this. But I drink a lot on Saturdays so just a warning. In fact, this is a real conversation that my mom and I just had.

*The kitchen clock reads 10:39am*
Me: "what's in your coffee mug??"
Mom: "hot tea...? Why? what's in yours?"
Me: "Champagne."

Oh! Now it's 11:11! make a wish!

"I wish that this tree trunk of a zit on my fucking face goes away"is what I just said out loud.

It's funny because in high school I was the weirdo teenager that never got zits or anything. Now I'm staring 27 in the face and all of a sudden I look like I belong in the fucking circus.

But yeah, some other reminders.
1) This post has the potential to have many spoiler alerts, as I am going to talk about Game of Thrones. I put something on Facebook after the finale and I was nearly CRUCIFIED.
2) I'm going to use the F word a lot. Because to be honest with you, it makes everything sound 10 times funnier and that is my goal here. We are all adults so this shouldn't be a problem.



But anyways, on to greater pastures. I've decided that my calling in life is not to be in a call center 8 hours a day monday-friday. Shocker, I know. But it is genuinely to be a stand up comedian. So this post is going to sum up some funny stuff that happened within the last year.

Let's remind ourselves the code names of my cast. Named after the Peanuts characters because as I've stated in my first entry, they're all going to look like assholes sooner or later, so I've gone ahead and given them the mercy by naming them after cartoon characters.

My Mom - Woodstock
My Dad - Pig Pen
My Oldest sister - Sally
My Middle sister - Lucy

(The characters I've chosen for each family member have numerous similarities between them.)

That's the main cast and if I am going to introduce anyone else, I will update you.

So anyway, I'd like to start out talking about toilets. Since march, the office that I work in has moved from West Yarmouth to Plymouth. Which is good, much closer to where I live. But the Plymouth office is much nicer and has fancy things like automatic flushing toilets. I mean, I don't mind them or anything, but I've noticed within the past few weeks at home I've forgotten to flush the toilet because I automatically think it's going to do it on its own. Which has caused quite a stir up as you can imagine.

Which made me think of this memory. Some time ago, a family friend got married. They had the reception at this fancy place in Boston. Fancy place = automatic flushing toilets. So when you drink a ton of beer beforehand...and then spend an hour in the car...you have to pee and you have to pee in great amounts. So when we first got there the first place I hit up was the bathroom. And let me tell you, I was sitting there and I thought my pee stream would NEVER stop.

So, it turns out, the toilet starts flushing itself! I mean, while I'm still sitting there peeing. Which made me giggle because it was an awkward sensation. The funniest part of the whole story is that it happened a second time that night. Since then, I happen to really like automatic flushing toilets.

Speaking of work though, I've noticed that sitting in an office all day with the only time of getting up is to pee or eat lunch has really impacted my body. I mean, fatness is happening. It's the kind of thing where you go to the doctor and you step on the scale and you say to yourself "well that's not right." LIKE YOU'RE IN DENIAL. Hahahaha, "you're scale is just fucking wrong." And then when you realize that it's right you look down at your jeans and you're like "hey, you're working really hard today. Keep it up, thanks. I know it's hard but just keep hanging on."

Alright, now it's 2:29 in the afternoon on Saturday and I just got back from the Taunton mall. I never really go there but they have a Rue 21 and an H&M so....whenever I feel like looking spiffy I go to the Taunton Mall. But I really had to pee (I'm talking a lot about pee I've noticed so far) so I went to the bathroom. In there, I see a woman who is clearly a drug addict and has no idea where the fuck she is or probably what her own name even is. I know this is really mean to say because I know that people are struggling with drugs and whatnot, but she had like dried blood on her lip and she was wearing a skirt that probably showed way too much that shouldn't been showing in the first place. So anyway, I was washing my hands after I peed and I know it's extremely mean but you have to understand how I was brought up.

My sisters and I were very sheltered growing up. I mean, we grew up in a house in a nice neighborhood and we played together nicely. We never did drugs or even drank until we were in college. Hah. well that might be a lie. BUT WE WERE GOOD KIDS! I mean, "ARE". I mean, when we were younger we had a curfew and and dated nice boys and were never really exposed to much. So  it's to a point where I go into the city and see a homeless person I'm like "omgkeepwalkingkeepwalkingdontlookhimintheeyes."

It sounds mean, I know. But I'm really not trying to be.

So this is going to sound extra mean.

When I see someone like that in a mall bathroom at noon on a Saturday, I feel terrible for them, I really do. But my first thought when I see someone that is clearly on drugs is to treat it like a zoo animal. "OMG CAN I TAKE YOUR PICTURE?! WILL YOU POSE?!"

I know, I'm going to Hell clearly. But everyone I know and love is probably going to be there too so ITSSAAALLLLLGOOD.

On to something completely different. When I was in my early twenties (It's so weird saying that) my ex best friend and I used to go see scary movies on opening night. I can't necessarily say I LIKE scary movies, but I like to freak myself out. So I watch a lot of them. So when we were younger, we used to go on Friday nights, but I would always say that we needed to stop at the bar to get a few beers beforehand so I can get a good buzz on before we watch this movie. So that's what we used to do and seriously, it HELPED A LOT. (by "helped" I mean I would giggle at scary parts.) But now, I don't know if it's because I'm older or the movies keep getting scarier, but last night I decided to watch Insidious Chapter 3 with my boyfriend. And of course, I got my buzz on.

I mean, it's not like I was drunk or anything.

BUT IT DID NOT HELP AT ALL. I WAS LITERALLY COWERING INTO HIS ARMPIT THE WHOLE TIME. And whispering the whole time, like a bunch of "what the fuck?"s and "why? WHY!"s and "WHAT IS THAT?!"

I'll always say this: You're doing something wrong if you're hiding inside someone else's armpit.

But it was one of those movies where you hide the whole time but at the end you're like "huh. that was a real good movie..."

And then you come home and you're alone and then you just shut all your closet doors and turn on every light in your room and watch 90's cartoons on Nickelodeon in the fetal position.

Anyway, speaking of movies...let us go to Christmas. Every Christmas Eve, it is tradition to watch "A Muppet Christmas Carol." Yeah, like with Kermit and Miss Piggy and shit. Like, greatest Christmas movie ever. But it always gets me when Tiny Tim is always hopping around on his little fucking crutch and coughing. (this is another thing I shouldn't find funny but come on, they're a buncha muppets!)

So it used to be a lot of fun with my whole family watching this movie on Christmas Eve and then my sisters got fucking lame and got married and moved out. (who DOES that?) so I'm alone now with my crazy parents watching it (who DOES that?) but I always get a good buzz on Christmas Eve. And Christmas Day, but who's counting. So it's just me and my mom watching this past year so I've had a few drinks and we get into this discussion about how fucking scary the original Christmas Carol.

Literally, it is the scariest movie I've ever seen and I've seen some scary shit. AND THEY MAKE US WATCH IT IN MIDDLE SCHOOL. The one part that will stay with me always and haunt my dreams is when "Christmas Future" lifts up his robe to reveal two basically naked anorexic children. I literally just tried to find a picture of this scene but if I have to look past 4 pages of Google, it doesn't fucking exist. So it's always scarred me, but I really like the Muppet version. Although even the Muppet version of Christmas Future is pretty terrifying.

You guys better have found that picture pretty scary because it just took me 12 minutes to upload it because I am using a laptop from 1935. anyways let's stop wasting time OKAY?! (PS that also froze my laptop. Here I am reporting to you 2 hours later.) Let's stop posting pictures for a little while.

So yeah, my mom and I are talking about how scary the original movie is and I was going off on a rant. I remember watching the movie (having been watching the muppets for YEARS) and being like "OMG what the fuck kind of movie is this?! This isn't A Christmas Carol, this is a horror film! This is what they put on a loop when they are torturing criminals!" (Is that a thing?) And then I started getting real upset like "AND WHERE IS THE LITTLE CUTE HOMELESS BUNNY THAT SCROOGE SENDS TO GET THE CHRISTMAS TURKEY! WHERE IS KERMIT AND TINY TIM DANCING IN THE STREET COMING HOME FROM CHURCH?! WHERE IS TINY TIM AND HIS LITTLE FUCKING CRUTCH?!?!?"

I mean, and don't get me started on the ghost of Christmas Present. Guy's a fuckin riot.

I mean, Jesus. The original has NOTHING like that.

So speaking of Christmas, this has nothing to do with Christmas. This happened quite some time ago when my boyfriend’s sister turned 21 years old and she wanted to spend the night out on the town in Providence, RI. It was just girls, and she was kind enough to invite me. So here’s where it gets interesting. She wanted to go to this gay bar, which is fine, I love gay people. So I was pumped, because I’m only thinking of gay men, it completely slipped my mind that there would probably be gay women there too. WHICH IS ALSO FINE! But…I kind of look like one. So, I’m not like other girls, so I go out on the town with jeans, a button up shirt with a CARDIGAN over it, and am holding a COORS LIGHT BOTTLE. And my hair is wicked fucking short, not like I’m being stereotypical but yeah, people wonder about me.

So we go out, and they’re all pretty girls and I’m like their little turtle lesbian friend with her button up to the top button. So anyway though, I’m enjoying myself and there are a lot of gay men around, and all of them are HOT! And they were dancing on poles. Then, as the night went on…girls started showing up. And I was in the middle of watching a drag queen dance to Beyonce’s “XO” (which is a really nice song, UNTIL NOW) and this girl comes up to me and starts randomly talking to me. Which is fine, I’ll talk to anyone, and she was nice. But I am listening to what she is saying, which is a whole lot about nothing, and I realize that she has basically the same hair cut as me (once again, not to be stereotypical) and I realize where I am and what I am wearing and the Coors Light bottle that I am holding and my running sneakers and OHGOD SHE IS HITTINGONME SHE HASTHEWRONGIDEA. Or perhaps she thought I was Ellen Degeneres. So I gave her a smile, slowly backed away and went to the bathroom. Which was unisex. And had old cowboy saloon style swinging doors. I just couldn’t fucking win.

Maybe next time I go to a gay bar, I won’t dress like Ellen.

You know, you really notice a difference in your body when you work full time sitting at a desk all day. You get fucking chubby wubby.

So, I have a gym membership now. I guess that’s what we do in desperate times when we realize that if you put a chef’s hat on your head you look like the motherfucking Pillsbury dough boy.

So me and my mom like to be gym buddies. So we went the other day and I usually like to use the bike. And it will tell you how many miles and how long it took you and how many calories you’ve burned. So it’s funny, I’ll do whatever miles on the bike and it’s like “you’ve burned 110 calories!” and I’m over here almost DYING and huffing and puffing and clutching my heart and shit. And then I’m like, “That’s a beer. THAT’S A LIGHT BEER. THAT’S NOT EVEN A COOL BEER THAT’S A BUD FUCKING LIGHT. WHICH I’M PROBABLY GOING TO HAVE IN THE SHOWER WHEN I GET HOME.”

here is what I look like.

On to something completely different. My sisters and I had a sleepover this past weekend. Sally and I decided to go up to Boston to sleep at Lucy’s house. Which was super fun but this is how our get-togethers go usually: They get all pinky-out-fancy-drinking-red-wine-and-eating-cheese-and-crackers while I-just-drink-a-shit-ton-of-beer. But towards the end of the night I felt left out, so I joined them in red wine drinking. FUCK PINKY OUT THOUGH, I’m not that classy.

So Lucy has this candy dish in her living room filled with random-ass candy. And she had those old school bubble gum pieces. The ones with the yellow and blue wrappers and have like at least 10g of sugar in each piece. So Sally is overdosing on this gum, she ate all of them. By the end of the night there was this huge graveyard of gum in their wrappers spread out all on the coffee table. So at the end of the night Sally is feeling pretty good because she weighs about 80 pounds and wine hits her a lot faster than it would a normal human being. So we ask her “if all the gum is gone” and her response is “ahhhhh…yis.” To which there were 3 pieces left, and when I asked her if she wanted them she replied “No, I’ll have them for breakfast.” And then they went to bed and I stayed up drinking another beer watching Bad Grandpa on MTV. Now, I’m not like them when it comes to mornings. I’m not like ANYONE when it comes to mornings. I fucking hate them. So they get up at the ugly ass crack of dawn and I try to hang on to the last SHRED of my sleep until I have to face the day.

But with them it doesn’t last long because Lucy was trying to wake me up by stepping on the creaky floor boards by the couch and Sally busts in the door saying, “Hey, where’s the gum?!” Just a typical weekend.

So this past weekend was the fourth of July. How did I spend it? Well, On Friday the 3^rd, I spent the whole day in the pool in a tube, wearing a fedora and with a inflatable cooler filled with beer in tow. When I say “in tow” I mean I fucking tied it to my tube. 

Then we decided to go out to the bars in Plymouth that night and I got turned down numerous times because my birthday just passed and I hadn’t renewed my goddamned license yet. Why? Because I am what they call “half retarded.” So then on Saturday the 4^th, I did more of the same but then we went to the Middleboro fireworks later that night. And here is a funny story to tell:

So, when you’re in middle school, or even maybe high school, going to the town carnival was fun and the “cool thing to do”. I realized after this weekend it might not be quite as “cool” as when you are 27 years old. So my boyfriend and I mainly went there to watch the fireworks, which were awesome! But after that, (me being in heavily buzzed mode) I suggested going on my favorite carnival ride. You know, the one I loved when I was 14 years old. Which is the scariest one of all. I think it might be called “the Zipper?” Anyway, it’s mainly a bunch of cages attached to a big bar and the bar spins, making all the cages go upside down and around and around and one second your spinning around full speed up in the sky and the next second you’re spinning around closer to the ground. And when you’re in these “cages”, you’re neither in a sitting position nor a standing position. More of like a squatting position I guess. So my boyfriend and I get into this torture chamber, and OH I forgot to mention the rasta monkey stuffed animal that was won for me (with dreadlocks and all) was with us as well. So it’s the three of us in this cage and when the ride starts I realize that as much as I loved this ride when I was younger, we in fact had made a huge mistake.

Not to mention the fact that you are really not strapped in very well AT ALL, I thought (honest to God) we were going to fucking die. For a number of reasons, as you can probably guess.

#1) We are both in our late twenties. I mean, we’re too old for this shit.

#2) You know it’s a bad time when you wake up the next morning and you find bruises on your thighs and your head feels bruised. You know, from when you bashed everything when you were flying around the cart.

#3) All I could think about was our combined weight between the two of us. (and of course, rasta monkey.) and thinking “OMG ARE WE TOO HEAVY FOR THIS CAGE!?”

#4) Here is another thought while I was screaming that WEAREGOINGTODIE at the top of my lungs: “This ride is on fucking WHEELS and was driven here.”

Anyway, long story short, no matter how much you love a cheap carnival ride, that shit ENDS when you’re 27 and when you no longer weigh 100 pounds.

Here is a phrase I've been using when I get angry lately. And I'm glad i've used it so much that my phone can finish it for me:

Anyways. Let's hop skip and a jump to Game of Thrones because that's the next thing that came to my hopscotch of a mind. So for those of you who are unaware, (which honestly can't be many) Jon Snow is hot. I don't mean like "yeah you're kind of cute" hot, I mean like full on "can I lick your face" kind of hot. I fantasize about our wedding everyday. So, as we've all learned in some way or another, characters die off of the show every episode. And I don't mean minor characters, I mean MAIN characters. So after watching the show for a while, I just expected every main character to die. Like, somebody would be sitting having a glass of wine and I'd  be sitting here like, "Hah, enjoy that glass of wine..." or someone would be taking a nice stroll and I'd be like "I wonder what's going to come out of the woods and impale you with something?"

So Jon Snow has survived through 5 seasons now. So watching the last 3 episodes, I nearly had a heart attack each time he appeared on screen. Not just because he's fucking hot and my heart always stops when he appears on screen, but because I was like "this is it. he's gonzo. I'll never has his little long curly haired children." So anyways, getting serious. He dies and I die along with him.