Sunday, June 15, 2014

Happy Father's Day. Please Don't Shoot Me.

I live in FL and my AC went out 2 days ago, and I now know what true suffering is. So because it's Father's Day and I can't bring my laptop into the bathtub full of ice I'll be laying in for the rest of the night, here's an old post about my dear old Dad.


My dad is an interesting man.

Not interesting like he runs marathons and speaks Latin.

Interesting like he goes in and out of a Cajun accent without ever having spent any real time in Louisiana. He is obsessed with Nazi history, much to the dismay of my half-Jewish mother. He refers to himself solely as Padre de Gato and almost shot me in the face when I was a kid.

Yeah, you read that right.

I was six years old, and my dad almost offed me.

He was teaching my brother and I about gun safety. Being a southern-raised good ol' boy, my dad having an arsenal of weapons was as common as other dads having golf clubs.

"Never touch my guns," he said. "Now this one isn't loaded, but..."


A single bullet whizzed by my head and shattered the dining room window.

I screamed.

He screamed.

My mom drew up divorce papers.

It was a pretty traumatic day.

Surprisingly enough, my dad was not kicked out of the house after his safety lesson gone awry, but he did spend the rest of the afternoon boarding up the window and trying to figure out how to spin this story to DCFS.

To this day he swears the my first near-death experience was an intentional lesson in disguise.

"I taught you an important lesson--accidents happen," he'd preach, "You now know to be afraid of guns... And besides if I wanted to shoot you, Allison, you'd be dead."

Good to know, Pops.

However, his "lesson" didn't really teach me to be afraid of guns, but it did make me very suspicious of him.

So Dad, just know, I'm still watching you, you son-of-a-bitch.

 But happy Father's Day, nonetheless.

Sunday, June 8, 2014

Sunday Wrap Up: Sh*t That Doesn't Matter Edition

What a crazy week, y'all! I almost set my blog on fire after having to pretend to know how computers work, The Biebs has obviously been watching a shit-ton of Fox News, and there's a show about sexy, extra small ladies on Lifetime.

Let's go over this garbage, mmkay?!

Little Women: LA

Lifetime, the network that brought you every movie about Tori Spelling getting beat up by some guy she met online, has done it again! What you ask? Well, I'm not really sure, but they found some hot little tickets that need pedal extenders and decided to make a whole show about it.

The following clip involves a hot tub soup of these little ladies in little bikinis, talking about whether it's acceptable or not to let people exploit their stature. Someone known as "Midget Lady Gaga" explains that as long as she's getting paid, she doesn't care what she has to do.

Sounds like she needs to change her name to "Midget Kim Kardashian".

Justin Bieber is Pretty Racist

Surprise! Justin Bieber is a total dick. For anyone who hasn't seen the now infamous video where J-Biebs repeatedly uses the N-word and talks about joining the KKK, you can see it here.

Now, I know some people--mainly 13-year-old girls--are saying that he was young and should be cut some slack, but I'm going to pass on that one. Doesn't this little asshole remember that he was discovered by Usher, and that Usher is in fact a black man. I think it's time for ol' Daddy Usher to take him out back and beat him with a bag of soap.

Of course, Justin says he is so sorry and has spent the last week in church asking the Lord to use his Lord magic to destroy any evidence of him being a racist prick. 

Oh, and he was also baptized in a bathtub--which no one explained to him is actually just a bath.

The Fault in YA

The Fault in Our Stars premiered this weekend and I can still hear people weeping hysterically. (I haven't seen it yet, but plan on ugly crying for at least a week afterwards.) 

The Young Adult book has been praised by teens and adults alike, but a recent Slate article by Ruth Graham, suggested that adults who enjoy YA should be ashamed, because these books are ultimately written for children. 

Um, you can take all the seats, Ruth.

Can we all remember that 50 Shades of Grey was written for adults, not to mention a myriad of other lit that is not worth the paper it's printed on. So if I want to sob hysterically about teenagers with cancer who fall in love, I will do so with absolutely no shame. 

Stop book-shamin' me, Ruth.


Alright, that's all I've got this week, guys. Anything worthwhile I missed? If so, leave it in the comments! 

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Why I'll be Blogging on Myspace from Now on.

Nothing quite makes me want to burn down the internet like trying to be tech savvy. 

I know I should be better at this, being a kid and all, but if it doesn't involve updating my Myspace with a super sparkly graphic, I don't want to know nothing about it, ya dig?

This all started when I wanted to give my ol' blog a little sprucing, well apparently the upgraded comment system that I added to my blog (while tryin' to be fancy), blocked my ability to customize it without changing the template manually. And since I just learned that you can, in fact, turn off an iPhone, that shit wasn't going to be happening. So I uninstalled the comment system and ALL of my comments disappeared--including the default blogger ones. That's when I started crying.

I don't want to have to figure this out.

I know this might get my super-cool millennial card revoked, but I have no idea how a computer works. I also have no desire to learn. I like to imagine that two teeny, tiny hamsters live in my laptop and are running on a wheel or flying a kite with a key attached to the end.

Or maybe Ashton Kutcher dressed up as Steve Jobs lives inside my iPad and allows me to play Angry Birds, who knows? Some people, I'm sure. But they probably don't make coffee for a living.

My dad is always talking to me about cookies and ram, and how I should have taken some classes in college on how to do something besides Facebook stalk exes and google naked celebrities, but I didn't. However, I can literally find you 789 pictures of Rihanna's tits at any given time. And in my opinion, that's a resume-worthy skill. 

But apparently when your blog decides to lose it's damn mind, it doesn't do you a whole lotta good.

Fuck, I still have an AOL email address. 

No one told me that being a blogger would involve so much computer stuff, I thought it was 60 percent being snarky and 40 percent becoming Twitter famous. But now I'm attached to the stupid blog, and let's be honest it's the only hope I have for not being a barista anymore, so what do I do?

Just to lay all my cards out on the table, here are some things I can/can't do on the internet.

So any of y'all have a three-year-old savant that can design my website, and I can pay her in apple juice and hugs? Or someone can offer me free web design out of their van.

But until then, I'll just continue manically writing the Disqus technical support people until they get so sick of me they just do it themselves.

Oh, and updating my Myspace page, of course!

Sunday, June 1, 2014

Sunday Wrap Up: I've Been Banging the Same Guy for 11 Years.

I've had quite the eventful week, which included a man ordering the dumbest drink imaginable and me trying to sell my diploma on Craigslist.

 Let's go over some of the highlights, shall we?

I Bought a Mattress

I did one of the most adult things a person can possibly do this week--aside from expertly plucking out gray hairs and wearing control top pantyhose with running shoes, of course.

I bought a mattress.

And not just some semen-stained knock-off from Bobo's Mattresses and Stuff. I bought a piece of heaven-sent, memory-foamed goodness that I will have to turn tricks on to pay off. 

But it's worth it. This mattress supports me in a way no real-life person ever has. I'm like, "Hey Sealy, my back is kinda hurting from slinging lattes for 10 hours." And Sealy is all, "Come lay down, little momma. I'm about to contour to your body and alleviate all your aches in pains. And don't worry about it being hot as dick outside, I've got cooling gel inside of me to keep you comfortable."

It's easily the best relationship, I've ever been in. Speaking of relationships...

It's My 11 Year Anniversary

Friday marked the 11th year of my random penis funeral. Yep, 11 years since I tricked some unsuspecting dude into loving me. 

I know some people are thinking, "Wow, 11 years, how romantic", but I'm here to tell you that being with someone over a decade is exactly the opposite of romance. Matt rolled over the morning of our anniversary and gave me a high-five for sticking it out. He then went to work, and I spent the entire day debating if I should shave my legs. Spoiler alert: I did not.

Later that night, I made him homemade chicken marsala, we split a bottle of Pepto-Bismol, and talked about how awesome our new mattress is.

True love forever.

Most Ridiculous Starbucks Drink Ever

I'm not saying I work for Starbucks, but if I did, I would be super annoyed by the drink that made the news this week. 

A Texas man ordered "The Most Expensive Drink at Starbucks", which was a Vanilla Bean Frappuccino with a ton of modifiers, including 60 shots of espresso. The man would have paid $54.75 had it not been for his Gold Card reward, which made this monstrosity free of charge.

The man said the 60-shot concoction was delicious, which makes me think he has completely burned off all of taste buds smoking meth. And with approximately 4,500mg in the frappuccino, a penchant for meth would be the only way to explain why this dude's heart didn't stop beating upon completion. 

As a barista, I'm not salty that this guy decided to drink the blended equivalent of Draino, but I am salty because now everyone and their freaking mom are going to want to emulate this moron, in hopes to make it on the local news. 

Thanks a lot, dick.

So that was my week in a nutshell, guys. Got anything that can top my sexual, new mattress, 11 years of bliss someone tolerating me, or a blended heartattack? Leave it in the comments!