Why I Have "that's what she said." Tattooed On My Finger. (A Tale of Roadtrips and Alcohol)

I have quite a few tattoos, but the one I am most proud of is my most recent. It is the phrase "that's what she said." on my right middle finger. I am sure by now you are thinking that I am joking because no one could be that absurd as to get that silly phrase PERMANENTLY tattooed on their body. let alone on their hand where other people have to see it everyday. But oh, I did. and it is beautiful.
Now I am not the kind of person who just goes out and does stuff at random (that is a lie). I try to keep my impulsiveness to only small things like deciding to go swimming or going to buy cake mix at midnight. I would never get a tattoo without really thinking about it. Except this one. This one is my favorite because if it wasn't, I'm sure later on in life I might regret it.
You see, I had been thinking about getting it to be funny for about two months. possibly more. I have absolutely no concept of time. I had no idea today was Thursday until just now. I think it is August and I think my rent is due soon, but that is all I am aware of. If it wasn't for paying rent, I wouldn't even know it was another month.
One day in my boredom of being unemployed I convinced my friend Elton to go on a road trip to austin. Elton is a funny, funny character on bis own and I am sure that at sometime there will be a post detailing our friendship, but right now just know that I have known him all my life, he is certifiably insane, Jewish, impulsive, and I insult his sexuality constantly.
Elton and I love booze. specifically the kind with alcohol in it. So during our road trip from san antonio to austin we knew we couldn't be sober.He invited some of his friend along too! Now there are two "responsible" 22 yr olds, two 19 year olds, an open bottle of root beer vodka and some really awful long island iced tea that tastes like molasses in my car at the halfway point. We filled up a McDonald's cup with root beer and vodka and ate chicken nuggets as we drove. Which pretty much means that we were the opposite of sober when we finally parked in downtown Austin. I do not condone drunk driving, but I do condone bad decisions where no one gets hurt.
So now we are walking around austin being ridiculous and  taking pictures of ever thing. Sometime that night we found a fountain that everyone claimed they could jump over. No. No one could jump over it. And i ended up COMPLETELY soaked. There is video out there somewhere of my REENACTING falling and falling again. yeah, I'm a freakin' genius. (I misspelled genius at first, yeah, I'm that smart)

Throwing Elton into a fountain!

So now it's about 9 o'clock at night, we are sobering up and i am soaked from head to toe. We are walking around downtown austin being obnoxious looking for a tattoo shop or something and a hobo came up to us and said something like, "Hey, the liquor store closes in 7 minutes, do you guys have any spare change?" and considering that we just drank vodka and root beer, we gave him all our change, which was probably enough for a cheap bottle of gin.
We end up making a pit stop and getting slushies and mine had a candy straw! And we stopped to drink them at the University of Texas and listened to a really crap band play for about an hour. At some point we were swarmed by Asian school children and then we finally found a tattoo shop.
I was quite giggly and excited as I told the artist what I wanted. He might have thought I was insane. And I had to pay in $2 bills because I have a slight $2 bill obsession, so maybe he was right in assuming I was crazy. And so began the most hilarious/painful thing I've ever done:

It started off SUPER EFFING PAINFUL!

This is the most flattering picture ever.

The coolest tattoo ever.

How to Be a Grown Up

Honestly, that title is a lie. I wrote it because I woke up at 4:30pm today and actually heated up a poptart.
I haven't heated up a poptart since I started living on my own and it made me feel like a grown up. And then I realized grown ups don't wake up after all the banks are closed. They also don't eat poptarts after "breakfast time" which I assume is sometime before noon. I, honestly, don't think grown ups eat poptarts, but I could be wrong. I hope I'm wrong. I don't know what I would do for food if I can't eat poptarts anymore. That would almost be as bad as not eating dinosaur shaped sandwhiches.

What?

Grownups dont eat dinosaur sandwiches?!

Well, then I don't want to be a grownup. I am quite content sleeping until afternoon and eating poptarts and shaped sandwiches. However, if you want to be a grownup, I have come up with a list of things you must do to become one.

Amanda's How to Be a Grown Up Guide.

1. Go to bed at a reasonable hour. I am not sure what constitutes as a reasonable hour becuase I can't sleep until after 4 am on most nights. From this, I can only assume a reasonable hour is anytime before I go to bed.
2. Wake during the time when McDonald's is still serving breakfast. Now, I know for a fact that McDonald's starts serving breakfast at 3am because back when I was trying  "college," we would be out and about at 3am and want cheeseburgers and be very disappointed when they only had stupid sausage and biscuits. We were drunks, not business people, what were we going to do with breakfast at 3am? oh...right... eat it. 
3. Take a shower. Daily. Now, I must admit, I am very good at this step. Usually. Sometimes I forget that I am supposed to shower every day, but usually I shower sometime after being awake. Unless I run out of shampoo. Because the only reason I shower is to wash my hair. If my hair wasn't so oily, I wouldn't shower even half as much as I do now.
4. Get dressed. I have an incredibly hard time abiding by this rule. To be perfectly honest, if I am home alone (like I always am) then I probably do not have clothes on. In fact, if I have visitors, I usually have to run around frantically finding clothes before I can open the door.
5. Get a Job.  I think this is a very big step to being an adult, and I have really no intention of doing this any time soon, but if you want to be a grownup you need to get a job so you can pay bills. Which bring us to our next step.
   
6. Pay things on time. As a grown up, you must pay things on time. Bills and rent and car payments. If you continuously pay them late, you will no longer have electricity or  a home or a car.
7. Do not date people under the legal drinking age. This is a rule I put in for myself. You do not have to abide by it, but to benifit my survival, I must. You see, 18 and 19 year old boys are retarded. Certifiably. And not the good kind of retarded like me, the bad kind where they do completely irrational and hurtful things without thinking about it and then expect you to be ok with it when really you should be throwing chairs and sharp things at them inbetween crying fits. For those reasons, dating young boys is not for people with grown up thoughts and  emotions. (yes, I realize throwing chairs and having horrible crying fits is not a grown up thing to do, but young boys drive me to do this)
8. Do not drink vodka out of the bottle, nightly. Drinking vodka is fun. I am not anti-vodka-drinking. All I am saying is grown ups mix their drinks. And not like MD 2020 and Sprite. More like vodka and cranberry juice. NOT cranberry flavored vodka out of the bottle. Though, that sounds amazing. I am not sure where I was going with this...something about learning to drink "in moderation". Someday I will be able to explain it better. Not today.

Those are really the only things I know of that make me different from a grown up. Maybe add in there dont play on facebook when you should be applying for a job or dont make up blogs that talk about your alcoholism, but I really think those 8 rules are the basic steps to becoming a grown up.

The Secret World That Exists Before 2 PM

Apparently, there is this secret world that exists before 2pm and I am not a part of it. From what I hear there are things called "breakfast" and "jobs" and "alarm clocks", but it has been nearly two months since I have been awake when there was a little "am" where the "pm" should be. I'm not saying I'm lazy (but I probably should because that is the honest truth) just that I have had no need to be awake before my body actually wants to join the rest of the world. I suppose this is what funemployment is all about and I should savor it because sometime in the near future I might have to get a job like normal people.

It just happened to hit me today, that people get things done BEFORE 2pm. Like, they had a more productive day than I will before my day has even started! This is quite upsetting.

Take my mother for example: usually before noon she has done at least FIVE things. and not even one of those things is drinking vodka out of the bottle or eating frozen pizza. If changing the channel and taking a shower are considered doing things, I might actually complete two things before 5pm and that is on a particularly active day for me.

I honestly do not even know what "morning" looks like anymore. For all I know, people could be driving by, throwing money out of their cars and it could be raining candy and diet dr. pepper, but I will never find out because it is a secret that people who are awake before time switches to "pm" have to keep from us unemployed people who sleep all day. I suppose it is only fair because I get to watch Comedy Central and play on Facebook all day and they actually have to shower and drive places and be respectable members of society. Which means, I guess, that they deserve candy and diet dr pepper, and money rain and I do not.

Spider.

This is Spider.

Spider lives right outside my apartment door. He is mother effing huge. The first day I saw Spider, I was, to put it gently, COMPLETELY. FUCKING. TERRIFIED. When I say Spider is huge, I mean that if Spider and one of the Night Kittens got into a fight, Spider would effing eat the kittens. in one bite. and still be hungry for more.

I am not sure why Spider chose my apartment to terrorize, I suppose it's because I seldom leave and have no fuck trophies (ahem, children) to disturb him while he plots for world domination.  Every time I walk outside, I have a small stroke when I remember that Spider is lurking in his Web of Doom right freakin' next to me.

Spider alone, would terrify even the bravest of wussy little girls, but the fact that he gyrates his effing web at me whenever I walk outside, like he wants to rape my face, is something out of a ridiculous horror movie. Seeing how I wont get any closer to Spider than necessary for me to leave my dwelling (and yes, I have considered using the back door, but what if there are more spiders hiding under things, planning their attack for when I finally get too afraid of Spider to go through the front door?), I have come up with a list of rules that Spider and I must abide by. and by rules I mean compromises and by compromises I mean things that keep my from having to get close enough to try to kill him

1. Spider stays outside, and I do not squish him
2. Spider does not give birth to 4932845892348642389 baby spiders, and I do not squish him
3. Spider does not actually rape my face, and I do not squish him
4. if I let Spider live, he will not send an army of dark forces to slowly eat me while I sleep

Spider has taken hold of the area outside my apartment for the past week, and in this time he and I have become somewhat understanding of each other. We have little conversations like, "Hello, Spider, thank you for not killing me in my sleep last night." and Spider responds by enthusiastically gyrating his Web of Doom at me. And I tell Spider, "Spider, when you gyrate your web at me, I think you are contemplating raping my face." Spider again responds by gyrating his web with what I can only imagine is a creepy stalker grin on his scary spider face. I suppose this will be our relationship until one of us break our agreement.

I am sure that if Spider knew how terrified I was to get close to him, he would know that he has the upper hand and could easily take control of my domicile, but because I am so much bigger than he is, he abides by the regulations of living outside my home.

Edit: my mother thinks Spider is writing things to me in his Web of Doom. She thinks he is writing "want in," I think he is writing, "I want to rape you face." We will see...

Fairytale time.

Once upon a time, there was a girl. And she had a pretty good job, a pretty decent boyfriend, a nice car, and plenty of spending money for rather cute (but also plus sized) clothes. This is not her story.

This is the story of a girl who has no job (well...she sells roses on the weekend under the table and makes less than minimum wage), has no boyfriend, a car with a missing mirror and a "check engine" light the comes on for possibly horrible reasons, and absolutely no spending money. She does however, no longer wear plus sized clothes. So, this is a happy story. Sort of.

This is the story of her life. It is not incredibly active, or really very interesting, but it is quite hilarious. And you might get a few laughs at her expense.