A Trip To The Looney Bin Is In Order

S'up fuckers?

I think that's how I am going to start every blog entry from now on. It has a nice ring to it.

S'up fuckers?

So we were going to talk about the first time I met Big Daddy and singing karaoke in a bowling alley, but at the last minute I've decided that we're going to talk about how I'm going crazy. Like literally. I'm pretty sure if I were to submit to laying on a couch, I would be immediately diagnosed.

I was voted Most Carefree in high school (the prize was a pack of Carefree gum, ha ha) . I don't sweat the small stuff, I usually don't sweat the big stuff. I approach most issues with a what's-the-worst-that-can-happen attitude. I've always been the laid back one, no matter what group you are referring to, I'm the laid back one. Maybe it was all the pot my mom smoked when I was in utero, but I'm usually pretty chill.

But lately I've noticed that I'm becoming increasingly uptight. I think it has been coming on slowly for years, starting with my growing obsession with cleanliness. But lately it is spiraling out of control. In the last couple of months I have gone from yeah when my house is clean I'm a happier person to holy shit I'm a crazy bitch.

And I think I'm realizing that a lot of it is stemming from my job. This was really the last place that I looked because like most things, I don't take my job too seriously. It doesn't define me, I don't work 60 + hour weeks, I'm not goo goo passionate about it to where I am thinking about it 24/7. If I didn't through some white trash fantasy insist on living in a 5,000 square foot house and carrying $700 purses, I would be just as happy working at the Gap.

When I first started working in my profession, I was basically thrown to the wolves more or less. I didn't have the proper training, I didn't have any mentors and I didn't have a support system. It was truly initiation by fire. I fucked a million things up in the beginning. Probably a lot more than that that I never found out about. But I felt I had no choice but to just forge on and deal with it. Looking back, I probably should have asked a lot more questions and reached out for help a lot more. But asking for help isn't really my thing, so I just did shit the hard way and worked it out. If anyone had a right to have a mental breakdown from work related stress, it was me back in those early days.

Now, years later, I'm my own boss. I've been doing this for years. I've built an excellent support system around myself. It should be smooth sailing. But I find myself now more than ever obsessing about every little thing. I'm like Rain Man. I check, recheck, triple check, and check again my appointment book. I compulsively check my voicemail at home, work and my cell because I'm always frantic I'm missing an important call. Not that I'm expecting an important call or anything, but if I don't check my voicemail 10,000 times a day it haunts me. I know I am driving the girls in the office crazy because whenever I'm not there, I'm calling and checking in constantly. I'm always checking and double checking and clarifying things or calling in to give them very minutely detailed instructions for every little thing.

So it just sounds like someone stressed out from work, right? But that's all strange behavior coming from me. But here comes the crazy part. I'm always knocking on wood. Seriously. Over the last couple of weeks it has become a compulsion. It went from a silly little superstition to a full blown oh shit, I just thought of something bad and if I don't knock on wood right now it will come true compulsion. I would estimate that I'm knocking on wood 15 times a day, but that's up from 10 times a day last week and never just six months ago. And all I can think of as I'm knocking on wood is about that weird guy on some special I watched on mental disorders who has to compulsively wipe his ass 37 times and then wash his hands 14 times after every trip to the bathroom or bad things will happen.

I've also become increasingly obsessed with safety. It all started with getting the alarm. Since then I have gotten that bar thing for the sliding glass doors, then new dead bolts, I check to make sure all the doors are locked 4 times before I go to bed at night. I've also gotten carbon monoxide detectors for every floor of the house and an emergency fire ladder. This is truly unhotlipslike behavior.

I'm telling ya'll, I've got the full blown crazies.

Big Announcement?

So I'm kicking around the idea of making the big announcement that I'm quitting blogging. Or taking a break as they say in blog world. It seems like as soon as anyone announces that they are taking a break from blogging they reappear 3 days later full steam ahead. I need to get my blogging legs back. I haven't been funny since April.

Does anybody care that I have on a really cute outfit? Or that I'm having a great hair day? In case you do, I do and I am.

So after a week or so of being a normal human being, I'm back to being a busy crazed lunatic again. It is like I am either so busy my head is spinning 24/7 or I am in sloth mode and barnacles are growing on me. I never function at a steady pace. What I need is a time management specialist. Yes, that's exactly what I need. Anybody have the number for one?

I've got to go to DC tomorrow and I'm none too happy about it. I don't know how you crazies deal with that fucking traffic and bizarre driving situation. I'm having someone drive me. I wish I could wear my fancy outfit of lacy tank top and Britney jeans, but alas, I don't think it would be appropriate enough.

I just sent Big Daddy to pick up KiKi from her second trip to training camp. I'm not exactly hanging up signs that say Welcome Home or anything. My prediction is I will be able to put up with her for 8 more days before having a mental breakdown. Speaking of pet induced mental breakdowns, Jesus Christ, what does it take to kill a couple of Beta fish? Why are those things still alive? It has been like 8 months, what is the fucking life span on a fish purchased from Wal-Mart. I'm really over the living things as home decor. Die already.

Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go apply some Queen Phyllis eye shadow and get ready for Big Daddy to return with a naughty puppy and then take me to dinner.

XOXOXOXO

Life Coach

Good morning, my lovelies. A happy Saturday to you all.

So about three weeks ago I went on a little mission for a new purse. I ended up at the Coach store and really didn't find anything that set my heart on fire. I found a few things that I liked okay, but nothing that made me hot and bothered. I went to Louis Viutton next, then Saks, then a couple of other places. I didn't find anything that made me swoon. But I had left the house during a tropical storm in search of a new black purse, and by God, I was going to come home with one. So I ended up back at the Coach store - wait, let me give you a little background. It was a Friday and I was supposed to be leaving town that day to visit my grandparents but due to the tropical storm sweeping through town, I canceled my trip. So I had the day off of work and had been trapped in the house most of the day. One would think that this would give me plenty of time to take a shower, put on make up, put on a matching outfit, but ultimately none of that was done. So I'm out shopping at Coach and Louis Vuitton looking like a bag lady. None of the snobby salespeople wanted to help me. Okay, so anyway, after not finding anything anywhere else, I decided to go back to the Coach store to get one of the purses that I liked but didn't love. The two saleswomen were a little more helpful the second time around. I guess since I came back they thought I might actually buy something and hell, it was tropical storming outside and nobody else was coming into their stupid store.

As I walk back into the store I grab a purse off of display and tell them that I want it. What I didn't know at the time was that there were three of the same exact purses only different sizes, small, medium and large. I grabbed the large purse, but had originally been looking at the medium purse. At some point this comes up and I realize that I'm not looking at the same purse. So then I am trying to decide which one to get, the medium or large. I like the large because it has an extra zipper compartment that the medium doesn't have. At the same time, I'm afraid that the large is just too big. I waffle back and forth, all the while the saleswomen are trying to talk me into the large purse because it is $200 more than the medium purse. I finally get sick of thinking about it and say fuck it, I'll take the large purse.

I'm embarrassed to admit it, I really am, so I probably shouldn't, but I will anyway, but half of my reasoning for saying fuck it I'll take the large purse was because the saleswomen were putting major pressure on me to get the large purse and I didn't want them to think I wasn't getting it because it was so much more expensive and I was trying to save money by getting the smaller one. I'm an asshole, right? I don't normally fall victim to this school of thought, but for some reason that day, wearing sweats and a greasy ponytail and feeling generally like a scuzzbucket, I felt it a necessary show of financial capability.

Don't worry, I'm appropriately ashamed of myself.

So after all that, and just dying if I didn't come home with a new purse that day, I ended up just leaving the damn thing in the bag untouched for the next three weeks. But the bag was so nice, and they wrapped up the wallet in this pretty paper embossed all over with little C's and topped off with a gold sticker. You know I am a sucker for pretty, tidy things. And everything just looked so right in that bag with the fancy paper, so I just left it. And eventually kind of forgot about it. But yesterday I decided I better go ahead and break it out because I was sick of that huge bag sitting in the floor taking up space. So I did the complete wallet and purse switchover yesterday.

I had a lot of shopping to do and just general errands to run and I was excited to finally let the world meet my new purse. Only I hate it. It is way too big. Like the biggest fucking monstrosity ever. All my stuff takes up about 1/10th of the space. I could go away for the weekend in this thing. Why is it so big? And why did I have to buy it? I'm such a schmuck.

Don't worry, I've learned my lesson.

I hope.

So, on to better things...

I'm hosting my first party of the fall tonight. It is a birthday party for a dear friend. It isn't at my house, though. I didn't fell like dealing with it, but had already agreed to host, so I have planned a lovely evening of activities outside of the house. First we will have dinner and then out for some fun on the town. Because I'm a classy gal (just ask the women at the Coach store) I have booked a limo for the evening. Remember the 400 lbs black man that gave me the ride home from the strip club back in May and thought I lived with my parents? Well, I kept his card, because that's the sort of thing that I do, and I've called him a couple of times this past week, flirting the whole time, and have arranged for him to drive us around, for what I'm hoping will be a substantial discount. The limo is a surprise. I haven't told anyone about that part of the plan yet. I love to pull off surprises.

So that's that. I hope you all have a good weekend and hopefully I'll come home tomorrow with some good stories.

Happy ADHD Awareness Day

S'up fuckers?

So the dog whisperer came back on Tuesday to give me a little follow-up dog training session and she ended up leaving with that naughty little KiKi. I guess she'll be back in a week. That is if I don't pack up and slip away under the cover of night. Whose fucking bright idea was it to get two filthy little puppies again? Thank God they are cute as balls, because that's all they have going for them. But it is back to being me and Coco and that's really for the best.

So I have this British neighbor that I'm becoming friendly with. I ran into her this morning as I was out being a responsible dog owner and taking CoCo for a walk. I mentioned that I had the morning free and she responded (read this in your most charming Mary Poppins English accent) Would you like to come around and take a coffee? And I replied, Word up, bitch, and went around and took a coffee. I learned that British don't take out the trash, they chuck the rubbish and about a thousand other little charming sayings that I don't remember right now. Next time I'll take a note pad.

As charming as I found her, I'm 89.6% certain that she drugged my coffee. By the time I got home I could barely stand. I've never felt so strange before. My mind was racing, my head was aching and my body was shaking. Of course that could be due to the Parkinsons. Apparently I don't do spiked European coffee well.

Which reminds me of a joke. If you are American when you go in the bathroom and American when you come out, what are you when you are in the bathroom?

European!

Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha

I rode with Big Daddy up to the store this evening and took Baby with us. Baby and I sat in the car while BD ran in the store. A cute little girl about 2 and a half years old came out of the store with her mother and kept staring and pointing at Baby. So in a very unHotLipslike move, I rolled down the window and said, Would you like to pet her? Strange, I know. So this little tiny girl came over to my car and stood there staring at Baby and said, Why is see sivvering? So cute. And I had a little 2 year old conversation with her the best I could. Her mother said, Ava, hurry up and pet the doggy, honey, so the nice lady can go. And I thought, hmmmm nice lady, now that's something I've never been called before. I can't say I liked it. It made me feel vunerable.

Who Knew KiKi Was So Photogenic?

And yes, I do realize that I have turned into that woman who posts thousands of pictures of her dogs on her blog. I need an intervention and fast.

I've got this twitch in my right pinky. And so I've diagnosed myself with Parkinsons'.

This big googlie eye is for you and you and you...

love it or shut up

I Just Can't Stop

For Arcturus

I was going through some pics I took at my grandparents house last weekend. I ran across this one of her custom made bookshelves that I loved so much I decided I must have dupilcated in my house. Anyway, to satisfy Arcturus' curiousity, I found a couple of pictures of myself on the bookshelf.

Fun With PhotoShop

See the fun stuff I can do with my photo manipulation software? The possibilities are endless.


I just spent an hour and a half sweating my titties off cleaning my severely neglected pool. It was rainy and overcast for the past week and a half. It is finally sunny and nice and supposed to stay that way for the next week, so I thought it might be a good time to get the pool clean and ready for the last push of the season. So as soon as I got it all shined up, yet here I sit.

Green With Envy

You know how I have to have vacuum lines in my carpet? Yeah, well, apparently some people feel similarly about their lawns. Here is a picture of the guy across the street's lawn. The people next door to me have a lawn that looks almost identical, only their lines run horizontally. And the people who live across the street from them prefer the diagonal lawn lines. All Asian households, BTW. For some perplexing reason, my neighborhood is made up of an inordinate amount of Asians. I'm not complaining, I'm just noticing the pattern, that's all. And I'm talking about FOTB Asians at that. And apparently Asians take their lawns very, very seriously. I have seen them all on their hands and knees on a number of occasions hand picking weeds. I have also seen them all trimming the edges of their yards with scissors. I wish I was kidding, but alas, I'm not.
I've never been into my lawn. I try to have it cut on a regular basis so nobody calls the county on me, but that's about where the buck stops. I was happy to move into a new house with new sod that was lovely and thick and bright green. But that was a year ago. And since then my lawn has developed a little weed problem (and not the same weed problem I developed in college) it is 5 different shades of green, none of which being the deep emerald as the lawn across the street, and it is just otherwise unsightly. So in a case of keeping up with the Jones (or keeping up with the Changs as the case may be) I hired a lawn guy.
I already have a lawn guy that does the cutting and trimming, but this is a new fella that's supposed to through the delight of chemicals, make my lawn a lush, green landscape. Well, he came for the first time on Friday and left me a note on my door that said something to the effect of, "You need to reseed, aerate, thatch, de-weed, fertilize and treat your shrubs." So I'm thinking, yeah, well, that's why I hired you, Sunny boy, get to work. And then I realized he must be making a special effort to leave me this note because he's going to charge separately for all of these things, they must not be included in my monthly maintenance fee. (Which really, after that list, begs the question What is included?)
And then it occurred to me, why spend the extra money? I've got a couple of extra dogs I'd like to get rid of, why don't I just barter with Mr. Chang for a little lawncare?

You Try To Do Somebody a Favor

and this is what you end up with.
I went to TJ Maxx to look for some dishes for Pissy, which I did not find, but while standing in line at the check out to pay for the fluffy gray sweater I did find, I saw these crazy Halloween things and got all excited. I even let out a little gasp when I saw the big one. The hot dyke in line in front of me turned around to see what all the fuss was about. And the fuss, my friends, was about these bizarre googlie eyed dishes that for some reason that cloudy afternoon I had to own or would die of disappointment. I'm afraid the picture doesn't do them justice, but whatever. Funny stuff.

OMIGOD

Today consisted of a flat tire in the middle of a torrential downpour and subsequent hitching of rides with semi strangers. Not stranger strangers, but totally random I hardly know you but I'm desperate strangers. Poor, poor me.
Unfortunately my car hook up is in Texas and wasn't immediately available to assist me in my time of need. Fortunately, I do have a hook up at all, which is more than a lot could say, so a new car is being delivered to me in approximately an hour.
Speaking of my hook up, he sent me flowers again, this all the way from another state, totaling twice in two weeks. That's how bad things are.
I'm just so fucking busy that even when I don't have something to do, my head is still spinning from the 9,000 things I just got done doing and my brain is mush and I just sit around in a zombie-like state instead of updating my blog like I should.
If it is any consolation, I talk to you guys every morning in my shower. My lips don't actually move, but that's the only time of day that I have a fresh brain and thus, any kind of brain function and I think of all things that I need and want to tell you. And then I exit the shower and get dressed and leave for the day and all my big posting plans are out the window.
The puppies are back. One is a lovable, sweet, cuddly, perfectly behaved, well-trained angel. And the other one is the exact opposite of all of those aforementioned words. Coco rings a bell when she wants to go outside and use the bathroom, is eager to please, and is quick to perform all sorts of commands, while Kiki just blankly stares at you while she shits in her crate and then lays in it. So as soon as I get a free minute, I'm boxing that bitch up and shipping her to Pissy. Consider it a housewarming gift.
I need a personal assistant. Apply within.

Sorry Charlie

I know, I am a big shithead for not updating since last Wednesday. I got ten thousand "Are you okay?" e-mails, and for those that wrote in with your concern, I appreciate it and am happy to be back updating just for you. A big fuck you to the rest of you.

I wish I had an excuse for my absence, but I really don't. I've been busier than a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest. Seriously, like every minute of my life has been consumed with one thing or another for the last few weeks. I've been so busy I have forgotten to eat on several occasions. And in my world, that's pretty fucking busy. And when I get that busy I am 1) really busy and 2) dull. Ergo, no updates. Sorry fuckers. I won't let it happen again. For a while at least.

I only have a small chunk of tomorrow blocked off for mature responsible obligations and the rest of the day is up for interpretation. It feels bizarre not to have 9,000 obligations. But first things first, a mani/pedi. You guys aren't the only thing that I have been neglecting. My fingernails are really long and gross and I've had the same toenail polish on for way too long. Grody to the max.

I did get my butt over to Circuit City tonight and purchased some fun photo manipulating software, that as soon as I learn to use, I will be going to town with. So look for the blog to be filled with fun pictures and shit around 2014.

Big Daddy just left for Texas and will be gone for the next five days. I was supposed to accompany him because he's staying at some fancy resort that sounded right up my alley, but, nope, I've got too much shit to take care of at work and had to bail out at the last minute. My life is so glamorous.

In the next few days we will talk about the following things:

1) My neighbors
2) My trip to my grandparents house
3) the puppies, who, lucky me, came home yesterday
4) the torid love sex affair I'm going to have with a complete stranger while Big Daddy is in Texas

PS - Stacey, seriously, make us a new blog. We deserve better than this. Paypal, bitch.

Has It Been A Week Already?

Oh my God. I suck. I'll update tonight, I promise.
But first I've got to buy some lottery tickets and booze.

Not Shuri About Suri

Just real quick. Now I know once and for all that Suri Holmes Cruise is an android or some genetically altered experiment. She's impossibly beautiful and I'm just not buying it. They really should have made her more average baby looking if they wanted me to fall for this little scam. Of course I guess she could be average baby looking, just photoshopped to death.

The End of An Era

Wrong
Right

So I got the call. I should have known better than not to screen phone calls. Apparently one of the puppies is ready to come home. It seems a little early to me, but I'm not the dog whisperer, so what do I know. I do know that the bitch better be on her best behavior. And somehow it has turned out it is the cute dumb one. The ugly smart one must be too smart for her own good because she has to stay until Monday. There is a 83% chance that after I get the cute easily-trained one home, I'll just never show up to pick the other one up and have my phone number changed. I'm brilliant.

I had a good weekend despite not being entertained every moment. I had nary a party and attended no social events. I pretty much spent my three-day weekend shopping my arse off and organizing my house...compulsively...like a crazed lunatic. I like everything to look pretty at all times, that's no secret. But I'm afraid that I might be on the edge of developing a full fledged compulsion. At one point I had BD helping me make the bed and he insisted that the quilt go one way on the bed because of the location of the tag, which makes perfect sense. But this way made the flower petals on the quilt seem upside down and I actually felt my heart racing and a little cold sweat start to break out at the idea of my birds of paradise not facing the optimal direction. And then there is the fact that I have hired Dee's cousin for $50 a week to come everyday and vacuum my house, for no other reason than to never be without the vacuum lines in my carpet. I should seek therapy, shouldn't I? I'm not even trying to be cute. I really think I might be knocking on disorder's door.


I'm totally over being Dee's neighbor already. Every time I avoid one of her calls, which happens approximately 5 times per day, I live in fear of her showing up at my doorstep 3 seconds later with an obnoxious I Knew You Were Home! Every time I hear the phone ring I feel compelled to run and lock all my doors and close all my blinds and crouch in the corner. I'm going to have to sell my house and move. That's all there is to it.

Crikey

Why am I so sad that the Crocodile Hunter died?

Crikey

Why am I so sad that the Crocodile Hunter died?

Whatever Happened to Christopher Lowell?

Why oh why can't I be on a normal sleep schedule? Why oh why can't I get a sudden burst of energy at, say, around 3 in the afternoon instead of 3 in the morning. I'm happy to get a sudden burst of energy any time of the day, so don't misunderstand this as complaining. I just don't understand why I always do my best work in the middle of the night when everyone is sleeping and all the stores are closed. Oh wait, I might have just answered my own question. But for reals, the insomnia can be really inconvenient at times.

For the last couple of months my office at the house (not to be confused with my office at the office) has gotten completely out of control. It had to be dealt with immediately. I finally resigned myself to hire another professional organizer. A couple of years ago I went the professional organizer route and it wasn't a pleasant experience. I swore them off for all eternity. But I finally got to the point where I was ready to go at it again. But I haven't been able to find anyone suitable. Finally today I broke down and decided to just handle my business. So I shopped, and I shopped, and I shopped, and I shopped. It is hard work getting organized, let me tell you, there are thousands of stores to visit. And in true Hot Lips fashion, the actual hands-on organizing of the office began around midnight. I'm all finished now. And it looks great if I do say so myself.

Three-day weekends are super fabulous.

I've got a couple of things that I need to talk to you about, but it's going to have to wait for another day. I think I am going to go try to conjure up a little beauty rest now.

LYLAS!

New Bag of Tricks

I'll give you one guess who had one too many Spunky Monkeys at dinner tonight.

Some crazy Mexican named Ernesto showed up today and ultimately convinced me to cancel my trip. 75% of the trip cancellation decision was based on the thousands of hours of work I need to do. But since I already wore out that excuse for not visiting, I decided to take advantage of the natural disaster wreaking havoc on my fair town. And damn that karma, not five minutes after informing my grandmother that I wouldn't make it, my electricity went out for the next 6 hours.

There was only one thing to do then. Go in search of lights and entertainment. Which is harder than it sounds because everyone else was hiding out in their own homes and not out and about set to entertain me. I ended up at the mall where I dropped a Knabian on a new purse and wallet.

For a change of scenery I went to the snooty mall, which is totally hilarious considering it is an outdoor mall and well, the city was flooding. But they have the best purses, so what are ya gonna do? I was a real vision, too. Jeans, flip flops, old t shirt from Target, rain jacket, hair in a pony tail, no make up, chomping on gum. Needless to say, the old bitties and gay men at Saks were falling all over themselves to help me.

Whenever I go into a store like that and the snooty ass salespeople act like snooty ass salespeople I really want to remind them that no matter how expensive of a store they work for, they are still getting paid $7 an hour to wait on people. Let's not ever forget that. It was all it took not to blurt out to the impeccably coifed homosexual that was behind the locked glass case at Louis Vuitton who looked me up and down when I walked in and then never saw fit to even greet me or try to assist me in any way, Um, get your head out of your ass, homie, you're the one working at the mall, not me.

Now, had I been about 20 years older, wearing lime green capri pants with little palm trees embroidered all over them, a pink cable knit sweater tied around my shoulders, with my lips pursed like I've been eating lemons all day and a sour puss look on my overly-tanned face, I'm sure I would have been helped right away.

But, alas, I'm not. I'm just Hot Lips and I don't get any respect