Attack Monkeys

Because each and everyone of you failed to provide questions for me, the Q&A is not going to happen. If I was better at twitter I am sure I could find some there. Instead I will just tell you about my tiny notebook.

I have a little tiny note book. Well I have many of them. I buy them in packs of two at Staples for a few cents and they amuse me. They are tiny composition notebooks and I have used them for a variety of things.

I use ones for tracking what I eat in a day when I am being a good and smart dieter. I use one for writing down book ideas and plot points. And I now have one for my blog. So, mother, that is where my drawings go.

This tiny notebook has most of my post-it drawings stuck into the pages as well as various notes of things I can write about one day.

The main problem with this notebook is that my notes never make sense. I write them, and then forget about them for a week and when I look back at them I no longer remember what the hell "Google Attack Monkeys" means. However I will look into it because I am a responsible writer.



Oh right. how awesome and terrible is this? You have one monkey all distractingly adorable, and this guy is all "Oh, tiny monkey, you are so cute. Would you like a small snack?" All the while his second in command is all "STICK TO THE FACE BITCH!" and then poor guy is all unconscious and the monkeys steal your shoes.

So moral of the story is ... I keep my crazy in a tiny notebook. Its safer that way.

Its so full of crazy that is leaks out a bit.

Attack Monkeys

Because each and everyone of you failed to provide questions for me, the Q&A is not going to happen. If I was better at twitter I am sure I could find some there. Instead I will just tell you about my tiny notebook.

I have a little tiny note book. Well I have many of them. I buy them in packs of two at Staples for a few cents and they amuse me. They are tiny composition notebooks and I have used them for a variety of things.

I use ones for tracking what I eat in a day when I am being a good and smart dieter. I use one for writing down book ideas and plot points. And I now have one for my blog. So, mother, that is where my drawings go.

This tiny notebook has most of my post-it drawings stuck into the pages as well as various notes of things I can write about one day.

The main problem with this notebook is that my notes never make sense. I write them, and then forget about them for a week and when I look back at them I no longer remember what the hell "Google Attack Monkeys" means. However I will look into it because I am a responsible writer.



Oh right. how awesome and terrible is this? You have one monkey all distractingly adorable, and this guy is all "Oh, tiny monkey, you are so cute. Would you like a small snack?" All the while his second in command is all "STICK TO THE FACE BITCH!" and then poor guy is all unconscious and the monkeys steal your shoes.

So moral of the story is ... I keep my crazy in a tiny notebook. Its safer that way.

Its so full of crazy that is leaks out a bit.

Back to School

This year is the first year I am not enrolled in school in 4 years. Before that, I did correspondence / a semester of college and before that, I was in high school. So needless to say, this September feels a little empty.

I am sure once October comes and everyone I know is freaking out in midterms and assignments and all I have to worry about is what my Nano novel will be about or if we have enough Halloween candy stocked up I will be fairly pleased. It's just that right now, I feel very strange.

I don't want to be in school at all. I never enjoyed school the way most people who pay six grand a year are supposed to. I don't really enjoy learning about things when I am expected to retain and regurgitate it. I have known for a while that I would not be able to go for my masters right away which without it renders my degree mostly useless. I don't even really know if I will ever go, for many reasons, including money, time, effort and my marks aren't good enough to even get in anyways. But, I can't say that I never will because in theory, having a masters would make me sound fairly smart - won't necessarily make me smart, but I could fool the masses.

So, all this to say is I don't miss school at all, but some how I still feel like I should be there.

Now, on the other hand, I started university two years later then most people do. I had been out in the real world for almost two full years before I stepped foot in a university classroom. Not only was I out of the high school frame of mind, but I had all kinds of crazy situations that had probably made me age ten years. Keep in mind, that I hate teenagers when I was a teenager and I think you can see the issue.

Going to school in first year for me, was like babysitting without getting paid. It was like I was stuck in a room of toddlers and for some reason was paying thousands to be there. Now, I do admit I am not the most mature person out there. Not even close. But having to spend the first month of my school year sitting in a giant auditorium behind ditsy blond ass holes who only talk about how awesome prom was almost killed me. I have problems paying attention. Classrooms are kind of the worst place for me to be in because the second someone is playing solitaire on their laptop in front of me I no longer care what the teacher says, so if the blond idiots who will never pass first year are constantly flipping through their skanky prom pictures my brain can do nothing except watch and think of snarky remarks.

Here is a small tip for teenagers entering University/college: If you want to look at pictures or play games, no one cares I promise. Just sit at the back. I don't know who you think you are kidding, but if you sit at the front and play pac man, people will see and then they can't focus. Also, get over prom. It happened, you were probably so drunk and it was so funny, but its over. Get over it.

Needless to say I am in a bad mood. As I walked to work this morning I saw a small fleet of Frosh week people standing in my way. This alone wouldn't be so bad, however they dared to start to sing Spice Girls. I know everyone loves the Spice Girls and that I have no right to claim them on behalf of my generation, but when you are not even old enough to have tried on platform sneakers when they were popular, please don't sing their songs at those who were. Or if you are going to sing their songs, at least sing them right because its offensive not to. They are an international treasure and deserve some respect.

But, teenagers as you enter university/college remember this one thing: Don't be an I.D.I.O.T. If you aren't going to pay attention in class, don't go. Unless attendance is marked and then go, but leave at the break.

This is a long ranty post about stupid teens. Hopefully if you are a teen and you are reading this, you will be less annoying to the people around you. but chances are if you made it far enough to this point you are not the ones I am talking about, you are probably one like I was who hates their own kind.

Good Luck at school young folks!

This is a picture of me infiltrating the I.D.I.O.T group and slowly burning them until they get less annoying. Some call it torture, some call it operant conditioning. Thank you Bachelor in Psychology for teaching me how to train people. 20 grand well spent.

Back to School

This year is the first year I am not enrolled in school in 4 years. Before that, I did correspondence / a semester of college and before that, I was in high school. So needless to say, this September feels a little empty.

I am sure once October comes and everyone I know is freaking out in midterms and assignments and all I have to worry about is what my Nano novel will be about or if we have enough Halloween candy stocked up I will be fairly pleased. It's just that right now, I feel very strange.

I don't want to be in school at all. I never enjoyed school the way most people who pay six grand a year are supposed to. I don't really enjoy learning about things when I am expected to retain and regurgitate it. I have known for a while that I would not be able to go for my masters right away which without it renders my degree mostly useless. I don't even really know if I will ever go, for many reasons, including money, time, effort and my marks aren't good enough to even get in anyways. But, I can't say that I never will because in theory, having a masters would make me sound fairly smart - won't necessarily make me smart, but I could fool the masses.

So, all this to say is I don't miss school at all, but some how I still feel like I should be there.

Now, on the other hand, I started university two years later then most people do. I had been out in the real world for almost two full years before I stepped foot in a university classroom. Not only was I out of the high school frame of mind, but I had all kinds of crazy situations that had probably made me age ten years. Keep in mind, that I hate teenagers when I was a teenager and I think you can see the issue.

Going to school in first year for me, was like babysitting without getting paid. It was like I was stuck in a room of toddlers and for some reason was paying thousands to be there. Now, I do admit I am not the most mature person out there. Not even close. But having to spend the first month of my school year sitting in a giant auditorium behind ditsy blond ass holes who only talk about how awesome prom was almost killed me. I have problems paying attention. Classrooms are kind of the worst place for me to be in because the second someone is playing solitaire on their laptop in front of me I no longer care what the teacher says, so if the blond idiots who will never pass first year are constantly flipping through their skanky prom pictures my brain can do nothing except watch and think of snarky remarks.

Here is a small tip for teenagers entering University/college: If you want to look at pictures or play games, no one cares I promise. Just sit at the back. I don't know who you think you are kidding, but if you sit at the front and play pac man, people will see and then they can't focus. Also, get over prom. It happened, you were probably so drunk and it was so funny, but its over. Get over it.

Needless to say I am in a bad mood. As I walked to work this morning I saw a small fleet of Frosh week people standing in my way. This alone wouldn't be so bad, however they dared to start to sing Spice Girls. I know everyone loves the Spice Girls and that I have no right to claim them on behalf of my generation, but when you are not even old enough to have tried on platform sneakers when they were popular, please don't sing their songs at those who were. Or if you are going to sing their songs, at least sing them right because its offensive not to. They are an international treasure and deserve some respect.

But, teenagers as you enter university/college remember this one thing: Don't be an I.D.I.O.T. If you aren't going to pay attention in class, don't go. Unless attendance is marked and then go, but leave at the break.

This is a long ranty post about stupid teens. Hopefully if you are a teen and you are reading this, you will be less annoying to the people around you. but chances are if you made it far enough to this point you are not the ones I am talking about, you are probably one like I was who hates their own kind.

Good Luck at school young folks!

This is a picture of me infiltrating the I.D.I.O.T group and slowly burning them until they get less annoying.
Some call it torture, some call it operant conditioning.
Thank you Bachelor in Psychology for teaching me how to train people.
20 grand well spent.

Ninja Turtle Gwen Stefani

So I have been missing for a few days, but I promise its for a good reason.

I had a traumatic run-in with a deadly assassin. I know you are thinking that I am no where near important enough to require an assassination attempt, however I am not lying.

As I sat quietly in my office, reading some sort of miscellaneous things on the Internet, I had that feeling as though something bad was going to happen. I looked around the room, and nothing was out of place. I listened to the room, hearing the slight rattling of the vent cover under my desk, I heard the dishwasher running from the kitchen, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Until, very discretely and almost unnoticeable, a small thump emitted from the spare room. I have heard noises similar before, an old house such as mine it tends to make a lot of creaky noises. However something seemed different. I felt a feeling of imminent danger.

My adrenaline, although not as useful as most people's stopping fear and making them brave, instead I just get paranoid and terrified. I somehow managed to get myself to stand and head towards the noise. I knew that it would be best to face the danger head on and not let it surprise me. At least then I could give the assassin a good ol' round house kick to the temple before they could fill my body with ninja stars.

As I entered the spare room I evaluated the danger and saw no ninjas. I am pretty skilled in spotting them out so I knew there was at least no full size ninjas in the room. However, I knew this was only the beginning.

I looked to the tank of the dreaded creature who lives in my house, the one that will likely outlive me and has  been consistently out to get me. Gwen Stefani. Now, you may be wondering, why is Gwen Stefani in your guest room? Well, Gwen Stefani is Dave's pet. Aldo, to make more sense, the Gwen Stefani I am referring to is a turtle. So back to the point, I looked in the tank and noticed that I could not see the damned turtle. This is not completely abnormal because there are a few hiding places for her. So I approached slowly to check out the tank and make sure she was where she was supposed to be.

I stepped carefully, and ended up standing in Dave's laundry because the eerie feeling continued to hang in the air. As I looked through the tank and realized, no turtle. Shit. I looked the floor the see the giant evil turtle waiting to eat my foot off. Luckily, being in the laundry basket I was safe from the bitey little asshole that is Gwen Stefani. I quickly ran out of the room to go get the barbecue tongs because I knew that should I try to grab her with my bare hands she would have me exactly as she wanted and be able to bite her venomous poison into my blood stream. When I returned with the turtle extracting tongs, Gwen Stefani had made her escape.

I called Dave to inform him that his turtle was trying to kill me and question if it would die if I left it in the room without retuning it to its water tank. He told me that I was crazy and that there was no way it was out to kill me. Clearly hes in on the plan. So, because I apparently have a heart and a death wish, I try to find the stupid and clearly evil turtle. I try to pull out the drawers on the bed but the first wont come out.

When I pull the second out, the evil monster appears. I dive in without hesitation, grabbing at the sociopath turtle. As I reach for the devil's best friend, I hear a noise that could have ripped the paint off a Buick. Gwen Stefani was hissing her voodoo war cries at me. I grabbed her as gently as I could because should she be ripped in half due to bbq tongs Dave would probably be upset (even though she totally started it, he never understands).I threw her back into the tank and then took away her little branch thing so that she could no long escape. What would happen should she escape while I am asleep? Wake up to a deadly real live ninja turtle trying to kill me? No thank you.

I dislike this turtle.

Anyways, this took a lot longer than I anticipated and I am trying to finish cooking the stupid turkey Dave bought and then ran away to go four wheeling all day. Which is okay, because I now have an almost cooked turkey and I fixed it because he forgot the butter. You cannot forget butter when cooking. That's just crazy.

Pure Evil Real Live Ninja Turtle

Ninja Turtle Gwen Stefani

So I have been missing for a few days, but I promise its for a good reason.

I had a traumatic run-in with a deadly assassin. I know you are thinking that I am no where near important enough to require an assassination attempt, however I am not lying.

As I sat quietly in my office, reading some sort of miscellaneous things on the Internet, I had that feeling as though something bad was going to happen. I looked around the room, and nothing was out of place. I listened to the room, hearing the slight rattling of the vent cover under my desk, I heard the dishwasher running from the kitchen, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Until, very discretely and almost unnoticeable, a small thump emitted from the spare room. I have heard noises similar before, an old house such as mine it tends to make a lot of creaky noises. However something seemed different. I felt a feeling of imminent danger.

My adrenaline, although not as useful as most people's stopping fear and making them brave, instead I just get paranoid and terrified. I somehow managed to get myself to stand and head towards the noise. I knew that it would be best to face the danger head on and not let it surprise me. At least then I could give the assassin a good ol' round house kick to the temple before they could fill my body with ninja stars.

As I entered the spare room I evaluated the danger and saw no ninjas. I am pretty skilled in spotting them out so I knew there was at least no full size ninjas in the room. However, I knew this was only the beginning.

I looked to the tank of the dreaded creature who lives in my house, the one that will likely outlive me and has  been consistently out to get me. Gwen Stefani. Now, you may be wondering, why is Gwen Stefani in your guest room? Well, Gwen Stefani is Dave's pet. Aldo, to make more sense, the Gwen Stefani I am referring to is a turtle. So back to the point, I looked in the tank and noticed that I could not see the damned turtle. This is not completely abnormal because there are a few hiding places for her. So I approached slowly to check out the tank and make sure she was where she was supposed to be.

I stepped carefully, and ended up standing in Dave's laundry because the eerie feeling continued to hang in the air. As I looked through the tank and realized, no turtle. Shit. I looked the floor the see the giant evil turtle waiting to eat my foot off. Luckily, being in the laundry basket I was safe from the bitey little asshole that is Gwen Stefani. I quickly ran out of the room to go get the barbecue tongs because I knew that should I try to grab her with my bare hands she would have me exactly as she wanted and be able to bite her venomous poison into my blood stream. When I returned with the turtle extracting tongs, Gwen Stefani had made her escape.

I called Dave to inform him that his turtle was trying to kill me and question if it would die if I left it in the room without retuning it to its water tank. He told me that I was crazy and that there was no way it was out to kill me. Clearly hes in on the plan. So, because I apparently have a heart and a death wish, I try to find the stupid and clearly evil turtle. I try to pull out the drawers on the bed but the first wont come out.

When I pull the second out, the evil monster appears. I dive in without hesitation, grabbing at the sociopath turtle. As I reach for the devil's best friend, I hear a noise that could have ripped the paint off a Buick. Gwen Stefani was hissing her voodoo war cries at me. I grabbed her as gently as I could because should she be ripped in half due to bbq tongs Dave would probably be upset (even though she totally started it, he never understands).I threw her back into the tank and then took away her little branch thing so that she could no long escape. What would happen should she escape while I am asleep? Wake up to a deadly real live ninja turtle trying to kill me? No thank you.

I dislike this turtle.

Anyways, this took a lot longer than I anticipated and I am trying to finish cooking the stupid turkey Dave bought and then ran away to go four wheeling all day. Which is okay, because I now have an almost cooked turkey and I fixed it because he forgot the butter. You cannot forget butter when cooking. That's just crazy.

Pure Evil Real Live Ninja Turtle

She Doesn't Want my Kidney... UPDATED

So I was emailing my friend today because her cell phone died and because she thinks its sneaky if she uses work-related titles so people will think we are productive. Well I think I ruined our lovely friendship.

She said something harmless about teaching the new person how to scan things (because I am trying to not scan the stupid binder because it will take 4 hours and its not even for my division so screw that) and this new person is that divisions admin. I then responded with some weird noises and other things that resulted in saying she will need to bail me out of jail with her black-market kidney money but that I would totally give her one of my kidneys after so it would be okay because we would be like weird kidney sisters. However my kidneys are hardly holding up for me so I am sure they aren't suitable, but I think she would be fine. She eats healthier then me so I bet the kidney would flourish and then mine would die and then I would have no Kidneys and turn yellow.

Or is that when livers die?  I don't know, Grey's Anatomy hasn't been on in a while and it got so stupid I never remember what happens just that I am upset with its terrible plot.

What was I saying? Oh right, so I think Crystal is afraid of me. She has only answered that she is concerned. Then I replied with something to the effect that this plan wouldn't work because she would need to heal from her kidney operation before coming to get me, and then by that point I would have stabbed the biggest and baddest person in jail because that's how you do. Otherwise you wont be the top dog and that wouldn't go well for me.

She hasn't answered me and I am concerned that she left to go find someone to take out her kidney in preparation to bail me out of jail.

Crystal: Plan didn't work out, new lady was busy. But I did get out of a four hour scanning job for today? So that's good.  You should probably keep your kidneys until my next jail-type fake emergency.

Today has been a very long day. I think I need to lie down. maybe from all the kidney blood loss, or maybe because I am panicking over my best friend hating me or having the funny farm coming to take me away. that's not funny Crystal... not funny at all.

PS: Sorry Crystal. You put up with a lot of weird. I hope your bosses don't read you emails.

PPS: This is the reply I finally got and it is obvious and clear proof of whay she is my best friend: I really don't want to go through unnecessary surgery, but if such an occurrence arises, I'll do whatever.