Because I laughed

Hysterically, so hard I cried, at this:

Creep

So, we're listening to Pandora Radio here at work and Stone Temple Pilots comes on.

Creep

and of course, I know I'm not the only one to imagine this song sung by a paraplegic but I did. And I admitted it. And therefore, I'm going to hell.

In keeping with the Olympic theme

The other night there was a post to Facebook from I don't know who. The post said something to the effect of:

"Why am I even watching the weightlifting competition"

to which I ALMOST replied:

"Because you're hoping to see an anal prolapse?"

which I totally could have said to Vickey if it had been her, but this was a person I don't know well.

Imagine my horrfied delight when there was news of a "Horrific Weightlifting Injury" on Yahoo news today. WITH PICTURES!

Imagine my disappointment when the guy just had a dislocated elbow.

I do hope he heals up quick and has lots of painkillers.

Olympic version

we were watching the Olympics last night and talking about raising future Olympians. My friend who has small children said that he doesn't want his kids to grow up to be uber jocks, he wants them to graduate from high school and go to college and be normal kids.

He pointed out that often, when a person's entire life is geared towards one thing that when that thing is over, they don't know what to do with themselves. To which i replied:

"Yeah, look at Greg Lougainis. He went gay and caught the AIDS!"

Heartless

Upon completion of the Sierra Recon course I said "Well it wasn't too bad-at least no one died".  Forgetting that someone did in fact die of heart failure or something.

Naughty Heathen

Apparently the wife and I have been very good over the past many months because we haven't been figuratively banishing ourselves to hell. Or at least not in memorable ways. Because I forgot them all.

But today. Today I am going to hell for talking all day to my coworker about whoopie pies. The kind that Bratty makes. Ok, I've only had Bratty's whoopie pies AND I didn't actually specify to my coworker what kind, but in my mental taste memory, I am totally imagining Bratty's whoopie pies.

Mostly, this is because I read a blog entry about mararons today and in my mind, they taste the same. Or the innards do. I would like to make mararons so that I can see what all the fuss is about. Not tonight though, I am busy.

Why does this make me evil? Why am I going to hell? Because my coworker gave up sweets for Lent and I had to admit, out loud this time, or, you know, via IM, that it's moments like those that I am glad I am a heathen.

That means I don't have to sacrifice anything or make promises to God and Jesus and therefore they won't be disappointed in me if I eat a whoopie pie.

or a whole damn box of Girl Scout Cookies.

Thankfully, I reminded her, if she does slip up, she will be forgiven.

My jeans are not as forgiving as God and Jesus. When my ass gets too big for my britches, they refuse to cover it and everyone sees my crack. I am NOT okay with that.

Oh for Joy! Oh RAPTURE!!

I found this on Regretsy, but the actual listing can be found at http://www.unusualcards.com./ The following conversation ensued...

Me: The Rapture is supposed to be about all the faithful being called to heaven, right?
Bratty: So why do they all look terrified?
Me: YES
Bratty: I know! It's not like they're running from a zombie or... Oh Wait.

I'm pretty sure they didn't mean the toilet

Business of the day:

Christ in the Great Basin

giggle.

Reasons Bratty is going to hell...

She: "What's that in the middle, a clown?"
Me: "No, it's Jesus"

Click here to see what we were seeing

Tune in Tokyo

The wife and I were discussing kids. Neither of us have any so we can talk all the shit we want about how  awesome it is to not have kids.

She pointed out that if she got preganant, it would be worth the $400.

I pointed out that if she did have a kid, it would come out with an antennae. And then she wouldn't have to buy cable.

I'm going to hell...

For being unmoved when people make requests for cheap or free stuff on behalf of sick children.

It's not that I don't care. I do. Sick children break my heart. And it's not that I am not occasionally moved. Or that I don't want to help out OR that I'm not willing to donate time, money, materials, whatever when the mood hits me.

But for some reason when I see someone requesting free or cheap stuff from strangers because their uncle's brother's daughter twice removed was born with her head on upside down and would love nothing more than a pair of custom diamond earrings, (ok, it's rarely that extravagant but as long as we are going to hell, we may as well be exaggerating too) to wear until her head gets screwed on strait, i kind of roll my eyes and move on.

I'm thankful that there are other people out there who are far nicer than I.

why yes, I can be an asshole

In discussing relations with Cheese's ex and her husband... edited for gist

Me: ... instead of Stephen calling you at the last minute and interrupting your day (they wanted him to take the kidlet on her day so they could spend some time together)

C: ...Stephen? Steven

Me: i don't really care how he spells it. Not planning to send any birthday cards.

Wow

I sure have been behaving lately.

I'm being considerate, I think

A couple of weeks ago, there was some drama with the BF's ex wife. I realized that what I really want to do is punch her. Being as she is currently pregnant (NOT HIS!!!), I told him I'd be sure to hit her in the face. I wouldn't want to do anything to hurt the baby.

Well, the time is nearly here to squirt that thing out. So I amended my thoughts. And promised to hit her when she isn't holding the baby so that she doesn't accidentally drop him.

A present for Bella

The convo went something like this:
V: If I ever get preggo i'll find a way to scrape up the money for an abortion. (like the pun?!)
B: Offers to raise/take the child
V: Sweet, you can have it in a jar when they are done.

Introduction to my (our) evil side

The wife and I have an ongoing joke. the joke is, we are going to hell for all the awful things we do and say. It's kind of like confession sometimes. Only without the hail marys and our fathers. And neither of us is catholic.

Regardless, pretty near daily, for the last two years, there has been phone calls, emails, texts, etc. They always start with

Dood. I'm going to hell

Or something similar. the other day, I suggested that I start blogging our assholery. Because damnit, we're funny. And funny needs to be shared.