tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-76700543091744574252012-02-02T17:45:37.697-06:00Candid Tales of a Domestically Disabled Kansas ChickHarnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.comBlogger1771100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-27149366007802304582012-01-31T12:14:00.007-06:002012-01-31T13:34:36.046-06:00

I’ve had my fair share of strange and unusual boyfriends, including the guy with botched tattoos that showered literally four times a day for fear he would get into a car accident and the people in the ER would see his “dirty butthole.” His words, not mine. My words would be somewhere along the lines of, “what in the hell is wrong with you?” And, my actions were, in fact, to run very fast in the

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-41037148815846851822012-01-11T18:40:00.021-06:002012-01-11T21:02:44.568-06:00

I began 2011 barfing in the bushes outside of the apartment of a guy I hardly knew and began 2012 returning a dress I got for Christmas that made me look like a baby prostitute (It looked so non baby prostitute-y online). It seems as though it was a year of growing up for me. In fact, check this out:It's a new addition to our family...You totally thought she was mine for a second, didn't you?Yeah

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-13320434962501172892011-09-14T14:04:00.004-05:002011-09-14T15:10:52.793-05:00

Right now I'm in the midst of week 4 of semester 4 of 5 semesters to complete and I'm surprisingly feeling pretty collected. Week 5 is usually a bitch, so I'm bracing for that — stocking up on wine and migraine medication, although I'd prefer something along the lines of uppers.I'm also fresh off a trip home to KC to see one of my dear old friends get hitched. The feeling of depression that

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-69120434413805621672011-08-16T11:07:00.004-05:002011-08-16T12:28:16.043-05:00

This is at least the third time I've witnessed it, or been in the aftermath of it — somebody flying the coop and taking people with them. This time I've sat quietly as people ran around with their hair on fire. I listen and I'm observant — that's how you learn things. I can just feel when somebody is angry or stressed and it permeates throughout the entire office. I'm also nosy, like really

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-77459986682587976072011-08-10T17:20:00.001-05:002011-08-10T18:24:46.532-05:00

Along with my lovely bearded boyfriend came a sweet, dopey black Labrador named Maggie...or Marge, depending on the mood you're in. She's incredibly smart, yet slightly retarded, but in an endearing way like most Labs are. She's special in that she loves to squeeze between you and the wall while going out for a walk, wrapping the leash around you twice instead of taking the logical way around.

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-74769370158281820382011-08-05T12:56:00.007-05:002011-08-05T14:38:33.645-05:00

A few days ago while driving through the three square miles of concrete jungle in Denver — lots of parks here, ya know — I caught a rare glimpse of myself in the driver's seat in the mirrored glass of a skyscraper. I looked like a child driving a car. People probably look over and say, 'why the hell is that 12-year-old driving a vehicle?!'Recently I've graduated from looking 16 to about 22 to

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-42208452837513544472011-08-02T17:24:00.017-05:002011-08-02T19:30:02.963-05:00

There's this little game I like to play every time I enter or exit my apartment building that's called, "What the hell will I find in my hallway today?"It's pretty much the best thing ever to live in an apartment building in downtown Denver full of rat bastard children. I have now become so old and crotchety in my 28 years of life that I'm now calling anybody under 22 (25 if you're a real asshole

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-48833207795951619682011-07-28T18:28:00.003-05:002011-07-28T20:18:15.466-05:00

I find it pretty shitty tragic that this monster called graduate business school I've taken on has prevented me from doing a lot of things that I love — writing for instance — and so I had a revelation the other day at work. As my summer class comes to a close this week, I will have three real-ish weeks of summer and then the fall semester starts.As my eyes welled with tears and all my internal

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-27869390061770815312011-01-21T13:26:00.011-06:002011-01-21T14:46:07.057-06:00

I don't know what's wrong with me. I used to get on stage several times a year in spandex and tutus and perform gravity and seemingly human being defying routines with grace, poise and sometimes a touch of psycho stage presence, but now all I do is fall over, break shit and hurt myself. Mind you, this is when I'm walking through my normal life, not on stage. *SIGH*I often write about my clumsy

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-86623118419174519162011-01-18T23:40:00.006-06:002011-01-19T03:27:46.741-06:00

My first semester of grad school was full of surprises and learning experiences, meeting new friends...and assholes with God complexes. Business school is the epitome of a "man's world," an expression I've always hated. I spent four months being partly amused, partly ferocious and partly diplomatic trying to coax some of my male counterparts out of the stone age and into a more productive world

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-90791904647661007982010-12-06T13:08:00.005-06:002010-12-06T14:04:28.852-06:00

Today I hit an all time low and went to Target in my sweatpants...not just sweatpants, but the ones I've been sleeping in for the past two nights. Some people might not think that's such a huge deal, but to Miss Vain over here that puts on make-up to walk two blocks with the dog to buy a Coke at the convenient store, it's a big deal.I woke up with a hangover, not from delicious wine, but from the

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-37088990001310736612010-11-30T14:58:00.003-06:002010-11-30T15:58:23.792-06:00

This is what I'm saying mainly to grad school right now along with so many other things:F**K grad school for sucking the life out of me...F**K group project members for being flaky retards...all of said flaky retards are men, by the way, so F**K men too. And, F**K myself for leaving my entire notebook full of school stuff at home...F**K FedEx for having shitty overnight shipping and not

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-78381571354731987882010-11-04T02:17:00.016-05:002010-11-05T17:12:52.677-05:00

"I've been dating since I was 15. I'm exhausted. Where is he?!" — Charlotte York, Sex and the CityDo I really feel this way? Absolutely. Do I let it control my life? Absolutely not.I just wasn't put on this earth to marry a suitable man and shoot babies haphazardly (or planned, for that matter) from my loins.When I was five, I played house, but strangely, there was never a pretend husband...just

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-63897223274576535142010-11-02T23:22:00.005-05:002010-11-03T01:21:43.574-05:00

Oh holy shit! It's a blog!Most of the time I find myself swirling around in this new life full of statistics, spreadsheets, group projects, leadership methods, new faces, unfamiliar smells, public transportation, bums, lattes and only a memory of a simple, seemingly peaceful life, hence the reason Chaotic Stability has been neglected...kind of ironic since I've been living the epitome of it.Most

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-16526339752381545262010-08-20T15:09:00.000-05:002010-08-20T16:11:40.008-05:00

The Mile High City did in fact welcome me with open arms. First, the mountains suddenly sprang up on the horizon then, as I ventured further into the city, a medicinal marijuana dispensary waved it's leafy hand at me, prominently displaying it's contact number which was somewhere along lines of 1-800-WEED.Too bad I don't smoke. Yeah, I know, I'm so boring, right? Well, I do drink enough to

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-24514300450138890752010-08-10T20:29:00.026-05:002010-08-10T22:54:17.176-05:00

One of the things I remember most about Reno, Nevada was it's distinct smell — desert brush mixed with pine and white fir wafting down from the Sierras along with the slight stench of pollution from seedy tourism. That last part disappeared as you wound up Mount Rose towards gorgeous Lake Tahoe as I did every day for my internship at The North Lake Tahoe Bonanza newspaper that summer.They say

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-32430133829256872862010-08-10T01:18:00.009-05:002010-08-10T01:56:59.890-05:00

Kansas is pretty much the surface of the sun...perhaps hotter, right now. I've smelled like a 12-year-old boy on the brink of puberty that hasn't had "The Big D" talk with his dad yet for about a month now along with looking like a greasy asshole. I'm quite tired of the perma sheen and salt film all over my body. However, I'll take some shininess as opposed to keeling over dead and taking my

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-70332602123790349312010-07-07T14:36:00.014-05:002010-07-07T16:55:47.609-05:00

The second day of apartment hunting in Denver brought out the more mature version of the temper tantrum throwing toddler in me — a.k.a. psycho bitch magee.You know when an apartment is advertised as a "spacious, garden level" apartment? Well, that really means tiny, concrete dungeon unfit for human inhabitants. After walking into about 12 of those, I began to wonder if anybody ever moves out of

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-70299436567641578422010-06-23T20:00:00.012-05:002010-06-23T20:15:49.792-05:00

I’m on a plane to Denver on a kamikaze mission to find a place to live. Failure is not an option…I will win at this shitty little game. I’m so annoying while apartment hunting that I even annoy myself. There were many tears shed the last time I did this and perhaps one psychotic episode, which involved me throwing myself on the ground and kicking and screaming like a toddler. If you don't believe

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-24484036633190851742010-06-15T01:20:00.013-05:002010-06-15T02:08:37.517-05:00

Monday evening...The scene: Me, sitting on my living room floor, lovingly cleaning a year's or more worth of dust off all of my picture frames, updating the pictures, wrapping them in bubble wrap, then placing them in a box. The packing has begun...Out of the corner of my eye, I see something stir across the rug a few feet in front of me. I look up and do a double take before I realize that it's

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-8046683977149992102010-06-02T21:56:00.015-05:002010-06-02T23:59:52.772-05:00

There's a lot of purging going on over here, as in, throwing or giving away everything I own before I move to Denver. OK, more like organizing, letting go and getting shit done. This whole two month deadline thing is scarily motivating. The best treasures I've uncovered are the ones in my photo/scrapbook box in my parent's basement. Most of the stuff is from college with a few things from the

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-23943501499631486692010-05-24T23:22:00.011-05:002010-05-25T00:54:44.952-05:00

I dropped my Statement of Intent for the University of Colorado Denver in the mail today, which means...it's official — I'm moving to Denver.While I've been all "SQUEEEEEE!" since the acceptance letter arrived, it didn't really become completely real until now. And, when I say real, I mean I hadn't really thought about the amount of SUCK involved in moving. It blows to move a few blocks down the

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-20840637248685685382010-05-19T23:06:00.018-05:002010-05-20T00:55:54.573-05:00

I stood in the aisle, shifting my weight from one foot to the other while weighing my chip options and wondering when my Mom would show up. Mmmm, chips, one of my obsessions...along with anything made entirely of sugar or things that will inevitably make my already somewhat high cholesterol go up and clog the shit out of my already predisposed-to-heart-disease arteries. Damn you crappy family

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-18977678243916368192010-05-19T00:01:00.010-05:002010-05-19T01:08:58.823-05:00

Here is a picture of my friends and me molesting a giant bronze statue of a wildcat this past weekend on the campus of our Alma Mater, Kansas State University, in Manhattan, Kansas.Why? Because apparently you're supposed to rub his nose for good luck. We went back to see Kate's little sister graduate and saw a variety of graduates in their caps and gowns mobbing it all weekend for pictures.This

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-34219745958695873252010-05-13T19:26:00.029-05:002010-05-13T21:46:01.146-05:00

I write this while sitting atop a small iceberg I've created with a plastic bag, a towel and a thankfully overzealous ice maker. One might ask, "Harna, why are you icing your ass?"Because I'm a walking movie cliche, that's why.First, let me update you on my job.I beat myself up in my daily life all on my own, but now I have this job where nearly every move I make is caught on camera by a live Web

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-91385134275532260012010-05-11T23:01:00.032-05:002010-05-12T00:37:31.482-05:00

Suddenly, my life seems more complete:It's Chelsea bitches! Before going to her show on Friday night, I stood in a long line at a local bookstore and froze my ass off, since Kansas has apparently told spring to fuck off, to have my book signed by Miss Handler. Unfortunately we weren't allowed to take pictures with her...not enough time and too many damn people I guess. However, I did give her a

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-73689461293849269242010-05-04T23:40:00.006-05:002010-05-04T23:54:29.286-05:00

"I recall being locally famous for calling it butt floss," Dad said, smirking as my parents, Aunt and I reminisced about the story I told at my Uncle Pete's funeral, in which he nicknamed my tiny thong underwear, slingshots.I laughed out loud at my dad's comment because it triggered an infamous memory I hadn't thought of in a long time. It was a matter of minutes on an ordinary day that captured

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-63861342577153976472010-04-28T20:22:00.033-05:002010-04-28T23:50:33.809-05:00

I turned 27 yesterday.And, while I've never felt "old," this year marks the first time I really realized that time is, in fact, marching on. Maybe it's because I encounter people in social situations that are younger than me when I never did in the past. Or, maybe it's because I have a good 10 to 12 years on most of my co-workers. Or it could be because I blinked and everybody around me is

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-22367191366025309782010-04-21T22:18:00.029-05:002010-04-22T01:43:03.624-05:00

What's worse than not having a job? I'll pause for a second while you think about it..............Give up?Quitting a perfectly good part time job for what you were told was going to be a full time administrative position, only to end up standing outside for nine hours slinging dog shit for 8 bucks an hour...Fuck my life.And now, a log of the last three days from hell:Monday, April 19, 2010I

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-90107910023101400642010-03-30T20:48:00.020-05:002010-03-30T22:02:41.362-05:00

I'm exhausted.Constantly trying to make sure dogs don't bone each other in front of live Web cams for hours is hard work. That's a big part of my new job as a "Camp Counselor" at a doggie day and overnight camp.Dogs will be dogs and dogs are slutty. I mean, like REALLY slutty. Like more slutty than teenagers and most of the men I encounter and run away from on the weekends. Of course, we probably

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-14932889558226222912010-03-22T21:11:00.039-05:002010-03-22T23:18:40.526-05:00

My eyes creaked open at 7:30 a.m. to the sound of one of the least annoying sounding alarms on my cell phone, but of course anything that blares in my ear and wakes me up before I'm good and ready makes me want to punch babies.I smirked at the T.V. that had unidentified cartoon characters flying across it just below audible level. I'm one of those people that always falls asleep to Nick at Nite

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-67451352928151527952010-03-08T22:13:00.017-06:002010-03-09T02:32:18.670-06:00

Maya Angelou once said, "If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude."However, while I admire Maya Angelou, I'd rather refer to a conversation that took place between Peter Bretter and Rachel Jansen in "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" to explain my situation mainly because I relate to the comedic style of that movie since I've had two different groups of people

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-87557294032750660192010-02-23T23:04:00.004-06:002010-02-23T23:41:38.021-06:00

I often joke that I'm like a boy scout — always prepared. However, I'm also a "yes" woman. I rarely turn down an invitation even if it's something that I'm not even remotely interested in. Curiosity and spontaneity just takes over and I feel the need to have this "experience" whether it's going on the sixth float trip of the summer, painfully transforming body parts into something that resembles

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-52729623454975722272010-02-08T23:26:00.014-06:002010-02-09T00:23:53.729-06:00

So, I came home from interviewing a client today for my freelance job and saw two police cars parked in front of the adjacent apartment building with a police officer pacing back and forth between the cars while staring at the building.At first I thought, OK, who punched their baby mama in the face for mouthing off? but then I remembered that I don't so much live in the ghetto, but more like in

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-43306498635245548072010-02-08T04:17:00.006-06:002010-02-08T05:40:43.401-06:00

Masked intruders, ghosts, monstrous bugs and dreams about talking black cats were just some of the neurotic bumps in the night that kept me awake as a child. When I'd finally gather the courage to roll over and slide out of bed, I'd scamper out into the hallway and down the stairs as fast as I could so as to breeze past the Hulk sized tarantula that was surely wandering around the house as the

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-86356561118579036422010-02-03T01:45:00.011-06:002010-02-03T02:27:54.136-06:00

Ten o'clock on a Saturday morning — I usually don't see this...at least not voluntarily and I often wonder if anybody is as anti-morning as I am.I crankily shield the bucking bronco-ing Jack Russell from jabbing my eyes out with his stick legs of death with my left elbow as I slide wearily out of bed and begin my shuffle into the world. Not unlike a newly potty trained toddler doing the pee pee

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-20848573427358169642010-01-31T14:18:00.034-06:002010-01-31T16:47:13.352-06:00

It's a little late, but quite the milestone, and since I have no children except the furry kind to brag about, I have to share.My niece, Remi turned 3 a few weeks ago and to celebrate, we shoved her into a suitcase:Her parents are really into the whole, not having to pay for plane tickets for children under two thing, so this is the perfect solution now that she's 3. Of course, there was that

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-91241746457551479912010-01-25T23:33:00.000-06:002010-01-26T01:31:19.932-06:00

My entire apartment reeks of meat. I say "reeks" now because it smelled awesome yesterday with the pot roast simmering all day in the crock pot, but now after 24 hours, the fact that I still stink like a giant slab of slow cooked cow with potatoes and carrots every time I go into public makes me a little self conscience. The smell just seeps into everything, your hair, your clothes...your brain.I

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-29764225634131767922010-01-11T23:40:00.027-06:002010-01-12T02:33:36.483-06:00

What a great couple of days. No, I'm serious. I'm not going to write a heart wrenching post that leaves you hiding in your office with smeary mascara from all the sobbing then needing a cup of chamomile tea to help you calm down — though I do feel humbled that you could share my pain.I've had some people in the past question my motives for blogging and belittle it because they either didn't like

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-13255071837709568122010-01-06T23:58:00.010-06:002010-01-07T03:41:35.003-06:00

...And now...a little peace...I had forgotten how physically painful it is to be so sad. I've had four nights of fitful sleep full of leg cramps, chest pains, headaches and a spastic back. I've cried and sobbed for three days until I couldn't breathe and I just when I thought there couldn't possibly be any moisture left in my body, I found another reason to bust out the hysterics again.But, the

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-37261538491676914662010-01-02T23:56:00.000-06:002010-01-03T05:51:13.535-06:00

I hit publish on my last post and two seconds later the phone rang. My sister notably upset on the other end said, "we're coming to pick you up," and I of course immediately demanded to know what was going on."Pete coded and we need to go to the hospital. I don't know if he's gone, but we need to go say goodbye."Never in my life have I tornadoed through my bedroom so fast. Sobbing, I threw on a

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-5738608234116271462010-01-02T16:30:00.003-06:002010-01-02T22:58:42.808-06:00

"I hope 2009 is better than 2010," I said."Well, it can only get better from the bottom," he said."That's what they say, but you never know..."Damn, 2009...what a whore in a crap chute. By far the worst year of my life so far and I can only hope that I have in fact hit rock bottom and my life in 2010 can only get better. I know first hand the difference a year can make.I rang in 2009 blissfully

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-19564411068448062382009-12-27T20:56:00.032-06:002009-12-28T00:44:52.925-06:00

The two words I've heard most in the past couple of days besides, "Merry Christmas," and "I'm exhausted" have been:"STOP SNOWING!"Yeah, not so inviting anymore.And, poor little Andy can't find a place to crap.After day three of fat falling flakes and bitter wind causing drifts and being snowed in and digging out and shitty roads, I think it's finally done. We keep talking about how we haven't

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-65184441687923626252009-12-08T23:28:00.030-06:002009-12-09T02:09:16.388-06:00

Hey y'all....Yes, look at me being all holiday spirit-y. Christmas is subtle at my apartment mainly because I haven't built up my decoration stash quite yet since being out on my own and I don't have money to burn right now on plastic glowy santas and inflatable snow globes. However, my neighbors apparently do, which makes Andy bristle and growl just like last year and cracks my shit up. Perhaps

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-57883764722892355082009-11-19T01:34:00.015-06:002009-11-19T04:01:51.859-06:00

Remember back in March when I became a robot for a day? I mean, nothing is more fun than having several strangers slap electrodes on my bare boobies and smear slime all over my chest in order to tell me that NOTHING WAS WRONG. Except my body is all, fuck you, yes there is something wrong and you better figure it out or never sleep again, which is why I'm still trying to figure out what's wrong

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-17051510725599495952009-11-10T01:22:00.010-06:002009-11-10T03:48:05.786-06:00

After chatting with my friend Jeff the other day and watching a particular segment about home resale value on HGTV, a memory of my recent Vegas trip resurfaced about bidets. Don't ask me why I was having a conversation about a device that gives you a water enema with one of my guy friends. I've never claimed to be a normal person...However, I am a practical person. Sometimes so practical that I

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-57887037774248822792009-11-09T17:25:00.023-06:002009-11-09T18:31:49.471-06:00

I woke up Sunday morning in a complete daze, then I looked in the mirror at my crackhead hair, telltale puffy, red eyes and smeary mascara and I unfortunately remembered what happened the night before. I finally broke down, became a hooker for some extra cash and my pimp slapped my drunk, ho ass? Nope, just another date that crashed and burned in a fiery fiasco of bullshit.This, like all of my

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-85497678527658766932009-10-30T10:04:00.031-05:002009-10-30T16:16:34.870-05:00

"...The flos-say, flos-say!" What the hell does that even mean? Flos-say, flos-say? According to Urban Dictionary, the Web site that defines all ghetto speak for my pasty, sheltered Kansas girl ass, says it means showy or flashy, and this is exactly why I titled this blog entry as such - because I now lead the glamorous and flos-say, flo-say life of a temp.Yes, this week I actually EARNED a

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-45508775398255316202009-10-21T02:38:00.018-05:002009-10-21T04:48:05.958-05:00

I drank giant Budweiser pounders and partied with my parents, family friends, Marcia Ball and Kathleen Sebelius Saturday night. You know, a pretty typical Saturday night.Knuckleheads is essentially a shack of a bar tucked away in a defunct part of North Kansas City near some railroad tracks. It's appeal is the quantity and quality of bands that it hosts and the fact that they have to play the

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-69981544858960937842009-10-15T17:15:00.029-05:002009-10-15T20:02:30.240-05:00

So, I saw my first snow of the season and froze my ass off at a baseball game at the beginning of October this past weekend, both of which made me rethink the possibility of moving to Denver for grad school. Every time it snows or drops below 30 degrees in Kansas City my relentless bitching can be heard for miles and that usually isn't until November or so. I just wasn't cut out for cold, plus I

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-36705028683436041322009-10-06T22:21:00.040-05:002009-10-07T02:14:17.317-05:00

It's been two and a half weeks since I got home from Las Vegas and I still haven't written about it. Once again I blame the asshole GMAT because it's a whore and I hate it. When it's over, I'll be so happy that you'll find me dancing in the streets naked...nudity depends on how well I score of course....OK, so...In Vegas, anything goes and nothing is normal. In my competitive dancing days, (the

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-53643867625428918752009-09-17T03:00:00.008-05:002009-09-17T09:39:58.137-05:00

Who knew that re-learning fractions and quadratic equations could take over my life and turn me into such a gelatinous pile of shit?I finally took the leap and started studying for the most wretched test known man, also known as the graduate business school entrance exam, or the GMAT. Yes, I'm going to graduate business school - a Master of Science in Marketing - to be exact, and one of the first

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-90417802456798566932009-08-10T17:41:00.010-05:002009-08-10T21:40:38.353-05:00

I'm realizing every woman's worst nightmare. Every day I find myself becoming more and more like my mother.It's not so bad though. I mean, we're both short, fun-loving, vodka drinkers...what's not to like? No, but really, we have our differences, but we're similar in some scary ways.We're both no nonsense, don't-feed-me-that-bullshit kind of ladies yet she's more on the reserved side, while I'm a

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-84147809453174327972009-07-29T03:05:00.001-05:002009-07-29T03:06:29.321-05:00

A monstrous, pinchy beetle tried to crawl up my ass once at Girl Scout camp causing me to basically de-pants myself while screaming as though I was being hunted down by villagers with torches and stabbed in the eyes repeatedly with ice picks, in front of a couple hundred kumbaya-ing little girls and their mothers.This may explain my hatred for camping...until beer was introduced of course.You see

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-90096129255931895252009-07-13T00:42:00.008-05:002009-07-13T02:24:28.076-05:00

There are countless reasons to dump someone - they're abusive, they're psychotic, they're an unmotivated loser, they banged their co-worker, they've lost that lovin' feeling, they went to the bar and got a glass of water...Wait...Huh?Remember that dance club full-o-douche also known as dating that I'm currently trapped in and fucking hate? Yeah, opportunity number one to get the hell out of there

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-15480766505441471752009-07-07T23:36:00.009-05:002009-07-08T00:47:56.155-05:00

I read so much about "sensual boob honks" on my regular blogs and now it's totally my turn to chat about boob honkage...except I wouldn't so much describe mine as sensual, but more like violent and punchy.Since I'm currently jobless and have lots of spare time that I'd rather spend doing something productive instead of sitting there drunk with my thumb up my ass, I went through training at the

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-56070500447020314982009-06-27T19:25:00.001-05:002009-06-27T19:26:19.314-05:00

How many times a day do you think women around the world complain about the state of dating these days? I'm going to guess a shitload mainly because I'm too lazy after my afternoon of floating on a raft in the pool to provide an actual estimated number and because I'm among those that complain. As I suddenly find myself back out in the scary depths of the dating world, (please kill me now) I find

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-65003402220240404892009-06-26T17:46:00.005-05:002009-06-26T18:42:18.767-05:00

The art of shopping (yes, I said art because the fact that shows like "What Not To Wear" exist prove that shopping and dressing yourself fabulously is in fact an art) brings me great joy. A special tingly sensation comes over me when I go vintage shopping even though I never have much luck. People had different shapes back in the day, which apparently means that everybody was either teeny tiny or

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-25291457786401156612009-06-21T14:44:00.020-05:002009-06-22T12:03:45.085-05:00

Having a 4-foot tall, lispy, grandmother bobble head doll for a yoga instructor seems to put a different twist on the whole "yoga experience."I've been going to a yoga class every Wednesday evening to aid in my quest for peace, serenity, relaxation and hotter arms and much to my surprise, I've embraced it, enjoyed it and continue to go back. I tried yoga once in college, said 'laaaaaaaaaame,'

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-61907490385839562412009-06-18T19:15:00.002-05:002009-06-18T19:32:32.375-05:00

God fucking dammit. I went three whole days without feeling bad and now here I am feeling sad about the break up. Somebody just punch me in the damn face and tell me to snap the hell out of it. What can I say? I have a soul. I'll be meeting my friend Caroline at a drinking/shopping event in about an hour, so that should probably lift my spirits since I can't quite think of anything better than

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-16035238259211109582009-06-18T01:50:00.016-05:002009-06-18T03:48:56.491-05:00

I'm now in the middle of week number 8 of unemployment. Two mothertrucking months without work and what do I have to show for it?--- A thriving herb garden, one dead hanging plant due to aphids (fucking aphids! Whores!) and the ability to use those herbs in many ways to cook for myself and others. Behold cilantro chicken with cilantro rice, gourmet quesadilla with chives, salad and raspberry

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-57127409955026175702009-06-11T15:25:00.011-05:002009-06-11T16:45:12.629-05:00

Kate while riding in my backseat: "You have the most random shit in your backseat - blanket, towel, paper towels...hubcap."Me: "Actually that's not a hubcap, that's a stovetop grill that your future husband gave me, so even better."Kate: "What? I didn't know such a thing existed."Lacey in front seat: "Neither did I."Me: "Me either."What they didn't know is just last week, I also had an

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-52648903779789918482009-06-08T18:32:00.000-05:002009-06-08T18:33:03.066-05:00

Apartment living means lots of new neighbors at different times and I guess it's been a couple of months since the family-o-weirdos moved in downstairs.At first I just started noticing a little boy with a blonde mullet tearing around the area on a scooter, their patio overrun with basketballs and toys and the grass around their entrances littered with tiny plastic dinosaurs and matchbox cars. I'm

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-54634965102829878882009-06-06T16:20:00.010-05:002009-06-06T19:19:33.350-05:00

I walked down the hill at the dog park towards the lake with Andy, who was actually being a non-douche and trotting just a few feet ahead of me stopping to turn around every few minutes to check in, when I sorta kinda noticed this older man, maybe 50, sitting on a bench off to the right, his black dog sitting at his feet, a faint satisfied smile spread across his face.Thinking nothing of it, I

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-44244736342589719842009-05-28T00:14:00.013-05:002009-05-28T02:19:03.061-05:00

Guess what?Wifey Whittah will be here in, like, a day! I will be reunited with my on again, off again wife that prances her ass back to Kansas City from Denver every couple of months to shack up with me for a weekend of mayhem. You can read about more of our adventures here and here.And, it should be nothing short of our usual ridiculous shenanigans this weekend especially since we've been

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-7674109076187744492009-05-23T15:36:00.010-05:002009-05-23T18:59:10.382-05:00

I think I was about 5 when I asked my mom if I could plant some flowers in the backyard garden. With Mom in an in-depth phone conversation and all the flowers already planted for the season, she sprinkled some popcorn kernels into my little hands and sent me into the backyard where I dropped the kernels into holes in the dirt I dug with my sandbox shovel.A few weeks later everybody shit their

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-38985309221339446832009-05-16T15:59:00.013-05:002009-05-16T17:38:03.969-05:00

My apartment pool opened for the season yesterday and my unemployed ass was so excited to be able to spend the day roasting myself, reading inappropriate literature and waiting for the damn phone to ring. However opening day at the pool also happened to fall on cloudy, torrential downpour, tornado day, so I bitch slapped Mother Nature and took a nap during designated pool time instead.After last

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-48081284191320488602009-05-15T00:49:00.011-05:002009-05-15T03:30:33.001-05:00

I remember the day I picked Andy up from the Humane Society. That hilarious little bastard...he ran out from the back room a.k.a. his prison cell, flipped on his back when the adoption coordinator bent down to give him a pet goodbye and shot a stream of piss about 3 feet into the air.He then proceeded to fling himself around the car on the drive home as if he had never been in a car before, which

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-89030226446052500962009-05-11T17:09:00.007-05:002009-05-11T19:07:06.937-05:00

Today is the three week anniversary of my layoff. I've spent the last three weeks staring at the computer screen until my eyes bleed half the time, then spent the other half of the time staring at the phone, talking to it and asking it very nicely to ring. Then it rings and it's the motherfucking dentist or the laser hair removal people reminding me of my appointment or lack there of and it takes

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-4304954100145775522009-05-08T02:37:00.009-05:002009-05-08T15:52:25.977-05:00

I hate Wal-Mart mostly because every time I walk in there, I'm the only one in the store that bathes on a regular basis.Shit, I could skip a shower for three days, run a couple of miles, then roll around in a shit covered cow pasture and not smell as bad as some of those people in there. I realize that most of them are obviously strapped for cash since they're buying their stylin' stretchy

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-63157339768722840252009-05-06T23:56:00.005-05:002009-05-07T01:19:27.371-05:00

I'd like to know why my dentist office is stalking me.Apparently dentist office is equivalent to, say, a psychotic, possessive boyfriend and canceling a dentist appointment is equivalent to breaking up with said dentist office. Calling to follow up and leaving a message asking if I want to reschedule ONCE is sufficient, but FOUR phone calls?Yeah, sure, it starts with phone calls, but soon I'll

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-34649476772956048362009-05-04T17:23:00.008-05:002009-05-04T18:41:22.580-05:00

When it rains, it pours and what I mean by that is, when one part of your life decides to take a giant shit on you, it's inevitable that others will soon follow suite and also decide to drop trou and squeeze out Cleveland Steamers all over you. While I'm not a fan of being drenched in shat, I suppose it takes a shitstorm every once in a while to make you re-evaluate your life and make changes

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-28017363763675481692009-04-22T15:41:00.011-05:002009-04-22T16:48:54.604-05:00

After a good 24 hours of feeling completely out of my mind - I'm talking bat-shit-ass-shave-my-head-and-beat-people-up-with-an-umbrella-Britney-style kind of psycho - I'm feeling almost normal. ALMOST being the key word since I'm sure I'll be riding out this manic state for quite a while and I keep finding myself saying things in my head like, "I'm free from the man!" and "The world is my oyster!

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-52748279806837514862009-04-20T11:55:00.004-05:002009-04-20T12:17:28.076-05:00

I will be 26 in exactly one week and I just received the most fabulous news - I will be joining the millions of other Americans - in the unemployment FUCKING line. YAAAY!FUCK. SHIT. ASS. BITCH. MOTHERFUCKING WHORES!I was just trall-la-la-ing about my day when I was called into the office maybe an hour ago and given the "we're just not doing very well and we can't afford your position anymore"

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-72261773946449733742009-04-20T10:52:00.001-05:002009-04-20T11:54:32.724-05:00

I was escorted by scooter to the bars after a hamburger buffet rehearsal dinner Friday night. Yes, I am a classy dame.No, it wasn’t as ghetto as it sounds. It was actually a nice, relaxed rehearsal dinner at the Westport Flea Market who boasts the best hamburger in town. Anyway the boy came and picked me up from Kate’s nearby house after he got off work and we settled in at the outside bar of

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-69420888147317396672009-04-15T19:40:00.011-05:002009-04-17T14:20:58.481-05:00

I peeled the red shoes of death off my now numb feet as soon as I hit carpet then went straight into the kitchen to sniff around for a tasty treat in the form of alcohol and immediately regretted sticking my nose into a cheap and rotten bottle of Pinot Grigio I found in the fridge. *BLUH*Across the kitchen, the sound of a shot glass shattering on the tile floor made everybody jokingly curse and

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-61228333454890023532009-04-13T14:21:00.008-05:002009-04-13T14:36:19.071-05:00

I tried to find a picture of an Easter basket that even compared to the bounty of sugary awesome-ness that the Easter bunny used to bring me when I was a child, but couldn’t really find anything that accurately displayed the mountain of Peeps, Cadbury Eggs, gum eggs, chocolate bunnies, jellybeans that poured out the sides of the little ghetto white crocheted Easter baskets with pink wooden beads

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-60752659236955823842009-04-09T11:03:00.011-05:002009-04-09T11:32:41.642-05:00

The earthquake that apparently annihilated L'Aquila, Italy the other day kind of freaked me out – not because it’s one of my motherlands (what? You couldn’t tell I had Italian in me from reading my belligerent brilliant writing?) – but because my friend Lisa recently moved there from Chicago. To Vicenza, Italy that is, not L’Aquila.At first I was like, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, Lisa’s all

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-58955585903835332962009-04-06T10:32:00.007-05:002009-04-06T11:03:01.128-05:00

Apparently I have more patience on a Monday rather than a Friday, so I posted the Britney videos for you viewing pleasure. Yes, I recorded all of these myself at the concert on Thursday night even getting in trouble once for doing so. I'm so bad.I think this is the best one, plus, she's crawling around in a lion's cage. I had to record this gem "If You Seek Amy" because it's her clever

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-14616182188308749352009-04-03T15:54:00.033-05:002009-04-03T16:43:29.772-05:00

A short recap of last night...The joyous gay... The masked mistress... And Britney’s black wig and booby tassles! Let me tell you, Britney Spears has had a few songs that I like for their dancey-prancey party appeal – they’re just so damn catchy! – but I’ve never really considered myself an actual fan. However, I must say that last night’s circus-themed concert was pretty amazing. Not for the

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-60515026364804330532009-04-02T16:05:00.006-05:002009-04-02T16:18:31.462-05:00

Do you ever have those days where you have an overwhelming urge to purchasea flame thrower, run around in circles lighting everything on fire including women and children, but mostly men, while screaming, “This fucking world is a WHOOOOOOORE because of YOOOOU!” In a high-pitched scream that sounds more like dolphin sonar than an actual human voice?Yeah, it’s been one of those days.I hate being

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-78599984494028399972009-03-30T16:03:00.011-05:002009-03-31T11:17:25.207-05:00

Sharks are dicks and I hate them.I mean, look at them! They're the scariest motherfuckers ever! I've always known this, but this show that the boy and I watched Sunday night "Ocean of Fear: Worst Shark Attack Ever" on the Discovery Channel just heightened my awareness of their asshole-ish ways.The show was all about the USS Indianapolis that was torpedoed and sank in the summer of 1945 leaving

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-69289876319011266222009-03-30T12:12:00.003-05:002009-03-30T12:20:06.849-05:00

The shower gene just isn’t in me and it has nothing to do with personal hygiene. I’m talking baby, bridal and couple. Call me a cranky bitch if you must, but boo - just fucking boo to these damn things. Now don’t get me wrong. I think they’re a necessary evil in order to collect all the much needed items for the wailing, crapping machine you’re about to pop out or for years of marital bliss or

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-86578686478394294462009-03-26T15:23:00.005-05:002009-03-26T15:42:54.910-05:00

The printer at work is a total asshole. You tell it to do something and it’s all, ‘no, I think I’ll be possessed by the devil and do whatever the hell I want with this mind of my own I’ve developed.’ So I can often be heard wailing, “Why, WHY, do you do this to me you whorey motherfucker?! I HATE YOU!” Such is the same with many electronic devices in my life – my piece of crap cell phone, my

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-89922723185805532742009-03-25T11:56:00.006-05:002009-03-25T12:08:26.601-05:00

Saturday night I was downtown with some people for a charity party a friend of ours was hosting, so afterwards we decided to hit up one of our old favorites, The Quaff, which we’ve lovingly call “The Queef” or “The Queef Queef” from the very start of our adventures there for one reason alone - plain and simple immaturity...or badassed-ness. Take your pick.I remember the commercials they used to

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-86651151898172505362009-03-20T14:37:00.008-05:002009-03-20T15:06:51.668-05:00

One theory behind my recent heart issues relayed to me by doctor no. 1 in the walk-in clinic, is that I’m stressed out and don’t get enough sleep. You should have seen the look on her face when I told her I get an average of five to six hours of sleep a night. It was as if she believed I was now a zombie walking around hunting for brains and the reason my heart was trying to claw its way out of

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-46164423708885533692009-03-19T15:40:00.018-05:002009-03-19T16:10:55.053-05:00

I covet things constantly. No, first I dream them up, have no idea if they actually exist and then I covet them and search for them - so much so that it kind of runs my life.Such as when I decided I needed the perfect red, peep toe pumps – Not open toed, PEEP toe. Not maroon or mauve, but RED. Not a small, tasteful heel, but a sky high, I-am-now-an-amazon heel. Not a stripper-esque platform sole,

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-1689574976596213402009-03-16T17:32:00.011-05:002009-03-17T10:36:08.213-05:00

Life is a bit more mellow when your 25-year-old body suddenly decides to behave like an 86-year-old, blue haired, liver spotted, hunched over, walker with tennis balls wielding cardiac care patient. OK, so maybe it’s not that bad, and I am feeling better today (minus the effects of the insomnia), but that general feeling of ass is still lingering and it makes my weekends far less entertaining

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-12054620287672930852009-03-11T20:14:00.003-05:002009-03-12T00:18:40.642-05:00

Check out my external pacemaker:I wore this thing all day and night yesterday to monitor my heart. I didn't realize I needed to wear a turtle neck in order to cover all the wires, so my wire-y chest was definitely exposed all day prompting everyone who walked into work to go, "what the hell is that?!" And me responding with, "I promise it's not a bomb."My favorite part was taking the tape off

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-34921739626636426372009-03-10T16:26:00.005-05:002009-03-10T16:43:22.268-05:00

While this blog usually and mostly consists of me making fun of myself for my domestic shortcomings and drunken behavior, with my heart being all ghetto lately, I’ve decided to detach my face from the giant bottle of vodka and take in the sights through (mostly) sober eyes.Take for instance Saturday night when my sister and brother-in-law got completely hammered ass drunk for my sister’s birthday

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-45155914718477957522009-03-04T16:50:00.001-06:002009-03-04T17:11:31.421-06:00

There was this stupid ass song that we were forced to sing for some music program around 4th grade or so that I loathed: "My heart is palpitatin' from all this syncopation when I hear a baaa-aaand..." Even with the large collection of crappy shit I was forced to sing in a jolly, jovial way completely against my will throughout elementary school, this piece of shit song definitely tops the list

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-78151822537347364212009-03-02T11:02:00.000-06:002009-03-02T11:55:12.105-06:00

I went on a date with this total assbag one time that declared after about 35 minutes of conversation that I spent half my paycheck on booze at the bars each weekend and I would have more money in the bank if I just kicked that habit. You know, that horribly addictive and life ruining habit of having friends, being social and meeting new people. It's a total money grubbing, soul sucking bitch

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-50221857983857459232009-02-24T14:57:00.011-06:002009-02-24T16:39:25.047-06:00

You know what really makes me a happy, cheerful lady of the office? The fact that we have a cleaning service at the office yet I had to clean the toilet yesterday since it was unfit to sit on.Yes, I had to clean MASSIVE AMOUNTS of dried piss off the women's room toilet seat in order to urinate at work. Not in a bar, but at work. And, it wasn't just on the seat it was all over the floor, on the

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-28673307210843159032009-02-20T23:00:00.004-06:002009-02-21T02:53:23.851-06:00

This is my dog Andy:He is a dick.Don't be fooled by that cute meerkat-like wrinkled head or the way he's politely crossing his legs in this photo - total asshat.Not only does he piss on and ricochet off the crotches of my dates and anyone else who dares enter his domain, but the precious minutes I've wasted, which have undoubtedly added up to several hours over the course of the three years I've

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-50401820628983015612009-02-18T23:22:00.002-06:002009-02-19T09:37:05.672-06:00

“Rando, Cock Sando!”This became the catch phrase of the weekend, which most likely is directly related to the amount of sleep we all got throughout our bachelorette weekend in New Orleans. It may also have had something to do with the fact that Shaunna and Kate spent the night before the trip high off Goo Gone fumes while taking sticky labels off tiny vodka bottles for Shaunna and Andrew’s

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-57759168372713803802009-02-13T14:58:00.014-06:002009-02-17T19:44:42.070-06:00

**I wrote this on Friday, then got preoccupied with being half dead and trying to go out of town and forgot to post it.**Remember how I was a giant raging bitch on Christmas Eve because I did not have strep throat and therefore could not get the lovely Z-Pak and ended up being sick for three weeks? Well, be careful what you wish for because this is now currently sitting on my kitchen table:

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-2613525069354249842009-02-11T10:46:00.004-06:002009-02-11T10:57:18.815-06:00

I got this e-mail forward from my aunt and uncle this morning that had a bunch of advertisements from the 1930s. Unbelievable doesn't quite describe them. It's more like, What. The. FUCK?!This one was particularly disturbing:Excuse me, did you just recommend I squirt bathroom cleaner up my vag? The same stuff I use to spray on doorknobs to kill cold and flu germs and mop my kitchen floor with...

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-45031095887611150452009-02-04T09:09:00.001-06:002009-02-04T11:45:43.225-06:00

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!" Was the sound that came out of my mouth during vag waxing session No. 2 Friday afternoon. Now I know why Steve Carell screamed out "Kelly Clarkson!" during his waxing scene in the 40-Year-Old Virgin. You never know what words/sounds your mouth will form while de-animal pelting.It had been just long enough for me to forget how FUCKING BAD some of those

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-60492511813207437172009-01-27T10:01:00.005-06:002009-01-27T10:12:27.585-06:00

Lets quickly recap the gist of my New Year's celebration:I ended 2008 looking like this:And I began 2009 looking something like this:I don't quite remember walking upstairs to the hotel room, but I miraculously woke up in my pajamas, which nobody helped me put on. Except I definitely still had my tights on underneath. My hair was still somewhat in the little updo except since it wasn't

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7670054309174457425.post-32529782141205483872009-01-24T17:32:00.001-06:002009-01-24T22:10:34.973-06:00

I've learned thus far in my 25, nearly 26 years of life that you should take advantage of all opportunities to experience something new unless there is scientific research that shows doing so will only result in negative consequences (i.e. drug use), so even when I heard myself tell Whitney that I just wasn't ready to splay my hoo-ha out for a perfect stranger who hasn't earned a medical degree

Harnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12028349668241483153noreply@blogger.com2