Showing posts with label vodkarade. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vodkarade. Show all posts

July 12, 2012

Sexual Chairs and Dumb Faces


I’ve been a very bad blogger.

No, that wasn’t a cue for you to get out your paddle and punish me for being neglectful and lazy. Ok, maybe it was, but you’re all the way over on the other side of the internet, so I’ll have to punish myself.

(Side note: Dear god, ‘punish’ sounds so sexual. Much like the words ‘penetrate’ and ‘rub’. I dare you to use all three in a sentence. GO!)


I’ll admit that summer takes away a lot of my normal ‘free time’ that I spend blogging. (read: I actually get off the couch to go outside when it’s nice outside, so I’m not on the computer all the goddamn day.)  I thank you for putting up with my unreliable blogging behaviour. If you’re ever in my neck of the woods, tequila shots are on me. If you show me your boobs.

It will come as no shock to you to hear that I’ve been steadily shaving years off of my liver.  Toronto Pride happened a couple weekends ago, and I think I heard my insides crying while I made sweet love to the porcelain gods and I prayed for sweet salvation. (In other words, I spent a day throwing up street meat and vodka. It was dreamy. I can tell you’re jealous.)

Lots has happened in my world as of late, and I thought I’d make a little list of important mentionables.  Think of this as our personal little update huddle time. No farting please. (Oh god, did I just make a fart joke? I must be rusty.)


10 Things Worth Mentioning (In No Particular Order)


1)      Technology is not indestructible, despite what you may have heard from Arnold Schwarzenegger. While my Blackberry put up a good fight, it eventually had to accept defeat.  (I dropped my Blackberry off of my balcony on the 24th floor. Suffice it to say, it did not survive the fall. WHADDUP iPhone.)

2)      Eating almost an entire carrot cake before bed, will make you have crazy dreams about tremendous poops and breakdancing. Not necessarily in that order.
3)      Instagram brings out your inner hipster, even if you don’t want it to. It’s like the STI of apps. You didn’t want to admit you’re a goddamn whore, but the warts are there, slutpup, so embrace it and move along.
4)      I spend a lot of time in the sun, but I’m still really pasty with the exception of my feet. Fact: Tanned feet will bring all the boys to your yard.

5)      If you tell a Starbucks barista that your name is Brittany, there is a high likeliness she will decide you’re better suited to another name.
6)      Channing Tatum has the dumbest face of all the faces.

7)      In related dumb face news: Someone decided that Anne Hathaway could sing and pull off a buzzed head. As far as I’m concerned, it was probably dumb Channing’s face who made that call. Regardless, she shat all over my favourite musical of all time. Seriously guys, the world might be over.  Stay tuned.

8)      Shopping in the USA is ridiculous. All of the allegations of Target’s almighty power were not even remotely hyperbolized. I was so tantalized by the deals I may or may not have purchased a solar-activated waiving Queen. Don’t judge.

9)      Don’t tell your dental hygienist you work in investments. You will have to sit there and hear about her investment decisions and you can’t do a goddamn thing about it because the bitch has her hands so far in your mouth, she may as well be filming it to make a profit.  In related news: investments are boring, but dentist chairs are very sexual. Who knew?

10)  Banana popsicles were sent to earth by the Gods of Mouthgasms.  Now I just need to find a way to add vodka to them. Please provide suggestions below.



I have lots of catching up to do on your wonderful blogs. I hope that you will remain patient with me and my douchebaggery. I promise to be much more reliable in the near future. There is just far too much sangria to be consumed and not nearly enough hours in the day to do so.


A small piece of advice: Vodkarade is your friend. Until it’s not.


CHEERS!

March 20, 2012

Yes, I Can See Your Tampon String.

It’s getting hot outside and all I can say is: Fina-fucking-lly
My pasty skin is tired of being layered up and suffocated by itchy material that regularly convinces me I’ve got flesh eating disease and/or bedbugs.

Bring on the sunburns, motherfuckaaaah.

While I am most definitely celebrating the recent warm weather shift, I’m going to have to take a minute to be a hypocrite.  Stay with me, guys.

This past winter was the fucking tits. Why?
a)      I didn’t slip and fall once.
b)      It never got too cold for me to stop sleeping in my underwear.

Those are my criteria for determining the ‘titliness’ of a winter. I’m sure there are other (smaller) factors to take into consideration, but who the hell has time for smaller things. AM I RIGHT, Girls!?

While I can recognize that there were some pretty unpleasant days that made my face burn like a prostitute’s urethra, I feel like I need to remind people that it’s March.

It’s March, guys.

We didn’t even get snow in Toronto until January. That’s 2 months of marginally uncomfortable weather. So, congratulations to those of you who invested a small fortune in your douchey Canada Goose jackets. I’ve been meaning to tell you that you look like Queen of the Asshats when you’re sweating up a storm on the subway because you don’t know how to dress yourself appropriately. I’m willing to bet you’re the same classy skankasaurus who chooses to bare your droopy asscheeks in 15 degree weather, hoping no one will notice the tampon string or the fact that they’re three sizes too small.  
Believe me. We notice.

Having said that, I’m pretty fucking happy that it’s warm outside because it makes me feel less dead inside. There are a lot of reasons for this exaltation, but I’m going to let you guess what the MAIN one is…

….

Are you guessing right now?

….

Guess or I’ll cut you…


Ok, fine. I’ll tell you.

It’s booze.  More specifically: daytime boozing.

There is nothing more enjoyable, and downright awesome than drinking under the warm glow of the sun. Soaking in the cancer and giving myself early onset liver failure is what life is all about. And I’ll be honest with you guys. During the colder months, I spend several hours a week perusing my summertime photo albums on Facebook. I don’t care if you think it’s pathetic. Your mom is pathetic.

Last summer I discovered the beauty of Gatorade & Vodka (Vodkarade… or Gatorka, for you awkward types). I’m pretty certain it’s Jesus’ gift to mankind… but don’t quote me on that… I hear Jesus gets pretty pissed when he finds out people are wrongfully saying he invented cocktails.

What have we learned today?

1)      The world is full of giant douchewranglers.
2)      The season of butt cleavage is upon us.
3)      ‘Summer’ is just a glorified term for ‘alcoholism’.
4)      And most importantly, Jesus makes wicked cocktails.


This week’s assignment: Use the term ‘titliness’ in a sentence at least three times.

***
Update!

It is with great pleasure that I accompany this post with a wonderful image.
Thank you to Jen Hladkowicz, who helped dream up this masterpiece.