Archive | April, 2012

Quarter Life Crisis

29 Apr

If you know anything about me, it is well-known that I take my sweet ol’ time with a lot of things in my life. It took me a year to convince myself I deserved an iPod back in 2008. [It broke 2 years ago and I have yet allowed myself to replace it]. A year and a half of drooling for a Kindle and I finally bought one. I take relationships slowly. I waxed and/or bleached my upper lip bi-weekly since I was 15 before letting myself splurge on laser hair removal last May. I will stare at a menu for 20 minutes before making a meal choice. Took me eight months of research before finally investing in my retirement fund. I am finally buying a big girl mattress tomorrow. Will I ever finish “Lost”? I think we all get the gist of what I’m saying: I’m slug when it comes to many life experiences and decisiveness.

The same goes with the dreaded “Quarter Life Crisis” one is expected to have when they’re in their mid-twenties. Add having two ovaries and one understands why women may experience said crisis more severely than men. I, however, have also taken my sweet ol’ time panicking about society’s expectations. I am pleased to recognize and embrace that I have dodged the crisis bullet for yet another year. So cheers, my friends; here’s to living life in the slow lane. I will be 26 years of age officially at 4:30 AM and I just hope that one year from now I’ll be singing the same tune as I am today.
.x-x-x-x.
Middlest

Wandering Vagina anyone?

28 Apr

While I was out and about this week delivering at work, I was able to catch up (twice, even) with one of my lovely Polish lady resident who insists on speaking French to me (because of my “French” heritage as she calls it) even though I have not a clue as to what the hell she is saying. Anyhoo, I ask her how she’s doing and that is has been quite a while since I have last seen her. She nods her head, rambles about something or another, and tells me that her legs are swollen and “full of blisters.” She (of course) pulls up her sweatpants (love) and shows me the sores on her legs (don’t love) and tells me it is due to her diabetes. She then precedes to hunch over and walk like an ape, grabbing her “lady bits area,” rubs/pats the area and tells me “it” is wandering (“it” meaning her lady bits for those who are slow/can’t catch on) – – And that she has accidents all the time and needs to get that taken care of. For a hot second there I thought she was going to show me her “wandering va-jay-jay…” That, my readers, would not have been a pleasant site to see….Too much, too soon for Ali.

Image

The next day, I had the pleasure of seeing her again while I was out and about on the property. This time she told me that she had prayed to God for me to come and get her rent check because her “stupid kids forgot to bring it to the office.” After saying “Praise Jesus” several times she asked me “what was up” and if “I had a boyfriend.” When I told her I did not, she asked me why. I shrugged my shoulders and told her I didn’t know. My Polish lady then flailed her arms out and told me she would find one for me and then did a little jive dance if you will. Shaking my head as I was leaving, I told her that was great and to keep me posted on this new adventure for her….
The only problem I have with this is this: The lady hasn’t left her apartment in almost a year and the only male dudes she speaks to on a weekly basis is her “stupid” son and her neighbor who is, of course, old.
{ aLi }

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.

25 Apr

Friends, Romans, countrymen – lend me your ears: I, Meghan, take awful pictures. Fear not, this is not a posting that is seeking for compliments or reassurance of my stunning good looks. This posting is simply for a laugh, as I love ruining pictures. Well, this weekend was an exception. My terrible photos were unintentional and were caused by two factors: lack of sleep & booze – thanks to Isaac and John. Before we dive into that, let’s do an analysis of “The Good” and “The Bad” and we’ll end off with “The Ugly”.

The Good:

What makes a good photo? It is quite simple. It’s usually staged with people you adore (although I do prefer the candid shots). Everyone is smiling and all eyes are open. No double chins, which is Ali’s numero uno rule. There’s a possibility that the photograph will be “Facebook Worthy”, perhaps even frameable! If my friends can get me serious for 10 seconds, there’s a decent chance that we’ll have a handful of “Good” photos to show off to our kids one day. *Shiver* Kids. Anyway, the trick is to get me serious enough to take a good photo. Now let’s move on to “The Bad”.

The Bad:

Now “The Bad” is a majority of taken photos. These are usually done on purpose and I get a kick out of people’s reaction to the photos.

It all started with a shit-ass grin and a slouch.

And then there’s the chronic dry-lip syndrome I’ve endured.

The Ugly:

…But now it’s getting worse. Much worse. Have I endured a chronic bad habit that becomes part of who I am?

Dear Lord.

Dear Lord.

Gulp

Gulp.

These pictures are so awesome that my stomach hurts with every viewing. The reactions are great and it is all in good fun. So, friends, I vow to attempt more of “The Good” pictures, will decrease “The Bad”, and embrace “The Ugly” when they accidentally happen.

Steel Oats

24 Apr

Lorraine, one of my awesome residents, usually stops by my office every day at around 5:30pm to “shoot the shit” if you will. Yesterday, she asked me how I was doing. I stated that I planned on adding “steel-cut oats” to my diet and that I needed to pick some up the next time I went grocery shopping. Lorraine asked me that the heck steel oats were. I told her that these oats would give you a very “powerful bowel movement” with “major cramping.” Lorraine then gave me a funny look, rolled her eyes, and asked me “Who the hell would want that?” I explained that my sister told me about it via Twitter and I was anxious to try it out. Lorraine then stated that “Your sisters come up with the craziest shit.” My mouth dropped but before I could ask her what she meant by that, she asked me why the “hell” would I want to do that to myself and asked me if I remembered what I had gone through with my stomach/colon/intestine issues a few months back. After I stated yes, she told me to “stop being stupid” and that I was “not to touch those damn oats.”

xoxo – aLi

PUNography Forward

24 Apr

We all know that each sister has a “thing” about them that makes them extra special.  Alison is stellar at starting new catch-phrases.  Meghan is the originator and obsessor of puns and I am the emperor of moves and groves and belting tunes.  By having two unique best friends, I have had the privilege on inheriting their many personality traits and integrate them as my own when they are not present. To many, I am the queen of puns and  present a sense of wittiness.  Little do most not know my little secret: I steal material from my sisters all the time!

With all of that being said, I took over Meghan’s obsession with puns.  Today I received a forward from a co-worker that is everything pun!  Enjoy and share your favorite.

—Anissa

I changed my iPod’s name to Titanic.  It’s syncing now.
When chemists die, they barium.
Jokes about German sausage are the wurst.
I know a guy who’s addicted to brake fluid.  He says he can stop any time.
How does Moses make his tea?  Hebrews it.

I stayed up all night to see where the sun went.  Then it dawned on me.
This girl said she recognized me from the vegetarian club, but I’d never met herbivore.

A guy got arrested for playing the guitar.  He was fingering a minor.
I’m reading a book about anti-gravity.  I just can’t put it down.

I did a theatrical performance about puns.  It was a play on words.
They told me I had type-A blood, but it was a Type-O.

PMS jokes aren’t funny; period.
Why were the Indians here first?  They had reservations.

I didn’t like my beard at first.  Then it grew on me.
When you get a bladder infection urine trouble.

Broken pencils are pointless.
I tried to catch some fog, but I mist.

What do you call a dinosaur with an extensive vocabulary? A thesaurus.
England has no kidney bank, but it does have a Liverpool .

I used to be a banker, but then I lost interest.
I dropped out of communism class because of lousy Marx.

I got a job at a bakery because I kneaded dough.
Haunted French pancakes give me the crêpes.

Velcro — what a rip off!
A cartoonist was found dead in his home.  Details are sketchy.

Venison for dinner again? Oh deer!
Be kind to your dentist.  He has fillings, too.




And the peasants rejoice!

23 Apr

After some persuasion from friends and family, we’ve finally started our very own blog. Collectively we’re not sure if people just adore our random Facebook comments to one another or if they’re sick of us taking over their news feeds, but we’ve listened and have taken action. Will the blog last longer than this post? Maybe – between the three of us we can muster some time to write.

What to expect from each contributor:

Eldest. Stories of the elderly. Her journey of eating real food for supper – not just combos, sticks of string cheese, or buttered pasta. Boy bands. Vampires. Toddlers & Tiaras.

Middlest. Commentary about idiots [or is that Margaret posting?]. Lesbian music. Recipes. DIY. Television.

Youngest. Stories about Scout. Ridiculous puns and jokes that she will only laugh at. Peanut Butter. Dentistry. Princessness.

Guests. We have funny friends, so expect some guest postings! Pelvic thrust.

Until then,

GlitzAndBlitz906