23 March 2014

Lessons in Road Trips

Road trips teach us things about stuff. Mostly about our travel companions and ourselves. The following list is only the shit I learned about myself on a recent trip to New Orleans with six other people:

1.) I smoke more than all of my friends put together.

2.) Sitting next to me in a car must be like sitting next to a five year old. It seems that everyone but me was perfectly capable of sitting still, while I alternated sitting upside down with my head on the center counsel and my ass on the seat, and sleeping on the floor of the backseat.

3.) I am blissfully aware of...everything. Tension? What tension? So and so is mad at so and so who is... Alright! Whose ready to hit the bar?

4.) I am far more comfortable sleeping on the kitchen floor than crawling into beds filled with sleeping people.

5.) I can and will hold my shit for up to five days to avoid doing so in the only bathroom shared by seven people.

6.) Do not under any circumstances tell Drunk Krissy not to walk across broken glass barefoot. I do what I want! Why the fuck do my feet hurt so bad?

7.) I seem to be incredibly selfish. By that I mean that it doesn't occur to me to ask anyone if they'd like to do something with me, I tend to just do it. Which is not to say I wouldn't welcome company... I just don't think to ask.

We really are assholes.

13 March 2014

I'm Pretty...

People have quirks, weird, random shit that makes no sense to anyone. For example, my husband is not allowed to fold towels. This is because God clearly intended for towels to be folded into neat, tri-fold rectangles. Of course the towels still dry when they are folded into squares, but it's just fucking wrong, so he's not allowed to fold the towels. 

Unbeknownst to most of us until sometime during my high school career, my father's quirks include the bagging of groceries. I don't know the details, exactly, other than God also has clear this-is-how-you-bag-the-damn-grapes-for-fuck's-sake guidelines. 

Apparently, my mother was as unaware of these strict guidelines as the rest of the world. On a shopping trip with my father one day we were all made aware of this particular quirk. 

My daddy is a sheet metal worker, and occasionally during the winters of my childhood he was laid off when work was slow. During these times we grocery shopped at Aldi's. (My brother still refers to every other grocery store as the "real food" stores.) Aldi's is cheap and you have to bag your own groceries after you check out. 

So there my parents were, standing at the long counter where customers bag their shit. My mother was simply trying to help and possibly wondering what the Hell was wrong with my father as he told her the clearly written holy rules of grocery bagging. 

I can imagine the conversation:
No. You can't put the grapes in the bag with the bananas. They'll start breeding and shit. Toilet paper does not belong in the paper bags for the love of God woman...

Actually, I have no clue what the conversation sounded like, except every time my mom bagged something, my father would take it out and redo it. Another man who was also bagging his own not-real food was enthralled by the shenanigans and stared blatantly while tossing shit all willy-nilly into his own bags.

In his frustration with my mother's obvious grocery etiquette ignorance, my father finally released a giant sigh and said, "Dammit Chris. Would you just stand there and look pretty!"

As you can imagine, this drew a shocked and angry glare from the eavesdropping co-bagger guy. I'm sure the guy was thinking something like that dude shouldn't talk to his wife that way. How disrespectful. His glare said something like, I should hit that guy. 

My mom, rather than beating my father bloody with a frozen box of almost-chicken, simply clasped her hands behind her back and swayed a bit.
 Like this:
Photo via Vectors
On an unrelated note, googling "sweet" "cartoon girl" "hands behind back" results in highly disturbing and inappropriate images that are anything but innocent and sweet.
And said, "Aww. Bubby, you think I'm pretty," in that sweet, innocent voice you're imaging right now. 

Which of course, drew a snort, and actual snort of laughter from the glaring co-bagger. 

There is no point to this story, other than the obvious. My parents are awesome. 

06 February 2014

Cracked.com Rewrite: 7 Female Behaviors That Baffle Men: Explained by Krissy

I came across this article on Cracked.com, 7 Female Behaviors That Baffle Men(Explained!) Now, admittedly, the author is probably right about most of them, I'm not a doctor so I can't say for sure...but. I can think of a few more realistic explanations for female behaviors.

1. Going to the bathroom in groups.
The author says something about all the girls going pee at the same time because a lull in conversation is sort of like a commercial break or something. She says women don't want to miss anything important or entertaining.

This may or not be true. Once again, I am not a doctor. However, if a bunch of girls are going into the restroom together? Cocaine.

Alternately, one of them needed a tampon. Or they want to talk about you where you can't hear them. You are welcome.

2. Why are women's restroom so much more disgusting than men's?
The author says something about women fearing filth, which triggers a fight or flight response. So obviously, women run in terror from the floating shit in the toilet and forget to flush their own.

Hmm. I suppose it's a good theory. However, I'd prefer to think it has more to do with the fact women have so much more STUFF at their disposal to be disgusting with. Men's rooms contain urinals, toilets, probably toilet paper and one of those condom vending things.

Women's rooms... they contain mostly the same thing, except the urinals of course. However, they also contain little garbage can things for women to dispose of their used sanitary items in. Yes, I mean tampons and maxi-pads... all covered with uterus lining and other gross shit. Now say you're a woman, taking a piss and you accidentally kick over one of those things? Are you going to pick that shit up and put it back? Fuck no you aren't. Unless there is something seriously, seriously wrong with you, and I don't even need to be a doctor to say that.

3. Why do girls take so long to get ready?
The author says something about changing clothes and make up. Which is probably true. I can't speak for all women, but sometimes, when I feel like dressing like a girl, I do the whole dress, shoe thing and then look in the mirror... And realize that while I may look like a girl, I feel like an absolute fucking moron. So, then I have to put on the jeans and tank top combo that makes me feel normal again.

Also, make up. Shit yes. Not because make up typically takes all that long, but generally because I cannot seem to apply mascara without getting that shit all over my cheeks and eyelids at least once. Which means I have to wipe it off and try again. Which means I have to reapply eyeshadow. Because I really do suck at the girl thing.

4. Why are women's fashions so complicated?
I've never actually met a man that has been baffled by this, however... The author says something about seasons and dressing either slutty or conservative based on the occasion or something like that.

Again, I'm not a doctor, but I'd go with something much simpler. For example, women  care. We care what you think, we care what other women think, we care whether our grandparents are going to hang their heads in shame if they are seen out with us. Why we care is perhaps even more of a baffling female behavior. Except for the grandparents thing. Obviously.

5. Why do women smell nice?
The author blames pheremones and shampoo and shit. Possible I guess.

Alternately? We bathe. We also tend to use shit like fabric softener, dryer sheets and girly smelling soaps. Because we like that shit.

6. Why do women have so many shoes?
The author blames something about matching shoes and  dresses and outfits and shit. Which essentially is the correct answer. Mostly. Because I know women that own infinite amounts of shoes(ahem, Grandma). I own three. Two pairs of gym shoes and a pair of ballet flat things, because as my youngest daughter pointed out, I look ridiculous in a dress and Nikes.

Actually, I also own a pair of hooker boots. Not because I am a hooker, but because I tend to receive more tips when I bartend in them..

7. Why do women get so upset about the toilet seat thing?
The author says something about how men not having the courtesy to place the lid in the down position illustrates how little he thinks about his girlfriend. Which is baffling in itself, really, because why the fuck are you thinking about her while you urinate. Nevermind, don't answer that shit.

Anyhow, aside from falling into the toilet in the middle of the night, which is easily avoidable by, I don't know, flipping a fucking light switch, men are sloppy pissers. They just are, it biological or something.

Anyhow, while I don't typically get upset by lifted lids... I can certainly say that the bottom of the toilet seat often contains really gross shit. And the toilet rim itself? Fucking gross. Piss, pubic hair, sometimes, inexplicably, feces.

I don't know, but if your girlfriend is continuously bitching about the toilet lid? Maybe try cleaning your toilet.

Once again, I am not a doctor, or even actually a girl most of the time, so feel free to ignore everything I just said. You are welcome.

Hippie Beer, Olympic Committees and More Hippie Beer

In a recent conversation that absolutely did not involve the drinking of Three Floyds Permanent fucking Funeral hippie beer, we found ourselves discussing the upcoming winter Olympics and also the next summer Olympics.

Obviously, this is because we are grown ups and we care about shit like that... or because the whole Russia thing offers so many "What the fuck" opportunities. I had assumed that the countries that held the Olympics were chosen by the same people that get to decide whether Pluto is a planet and come up with ridiculous names for storms.

Not so, it seems. Apparently there is some sort of committee that chooses these countries out of whoever bids on them. And so, in my non-professional and grossly uninformed opinion, this illustrates several things.

1. This committee is made up people that hate gay athletes, as in Fuck it, we should send them all to Russia, they probably won't make it back.

2. This committee is also made up of people that hate Russia, as in Let's do it in Sochi so the whole world can laugh at Russia.

3. This committee also hates people that go to watch the Olympics and also the media, as evidenced in the tweets sent by journalists... My favorite one being the "dangerous face water."

4. This committee also hates poor Brazilian people, or they just enjoy watching drug cartels shoot RPGs at the police helicopters that are circling the ghettos.

5. They probably also hate Russian stray dogs. I can't image why.

And so, taking all of these observations into account, one can only assume one of two things. These people are actually, actively trying to get fired. Or, they really hate the Olympics are hoping that a series of violent deaths will eventually cause the entire Olympic thing to be canceled forever.

**Sources** T.Rohe, K.Alsman, M.Wadman and Three Floyds Brewing. And probably others that I don't entirely remember speaking to.

30 January 2014

Idiocy In America... Again

There is a petition on We The People calling for the US to deport pop star Justin Bieber and revoke his green card. It has 188,000 fucking signatures. (As of 9:45am) A seperate petition simply calling for "DEPORT JUSTIN BIEBER!" has over 22,000 signatures.

Obviously, there are a few people that hate the guy.

There are 612 signatures on another petition that calls for the White House to disregard and remove the petition calling for the deportation of Justin Bieber. "Consider Not To Deport Justin Bieber" has 1,602 signatures. And, of course, there are 3,030 signatures on the "Stop Justin Bieber from being deported. He is a human being and he makes mistakes. He does not deserve this."

By my count that means there are 215,244 fucking morons in the US that not only have internet access, they have discovered that they can pretty much make a petition for any damned thing. If they get enough support, the White House will have to address the petition.

In contrast, the 79 petitions that are not about Justin Bieber, or the 548 people that signed the petition calling for a Jonas Brothers reunion(No, no I am not joking) have 2,366,339 signatures. These other petitions call for ridiculous things like awarding the Medal of Freedom to four dead firefighters, 32,619 signatures.

The two petitions calling for the labeling of food products that use GMOs? A combined 154,361. There are other ridiculous petitions regarding things like unemployment insurance, legalizing cannabis... something about sanctions against some fucked up country... And yet?

The only petition that has more signatures that the deport Bieber idiocy is one calling for the US to declare the Muslim Brotherhood a terrorist group.

I don't know a damn thing about the Muslim Brotherhood, but one can only assume, from looking at the White House's We The People website, Americans hate the Muslim Brotherhood more than they hate Bieber... but just barely. In fact, there are only 12,080 more Muslim Brotherhood haters and that's assuming the Bieber people only signed one petition.

Obviously people feel very strongly about some fucked up Canadian kid. It's just a shame they can't seem to express the same passion about, you know, shit that matters.

19 December 2013

Holy Stupid...Everything Concerning This Duck Guy

So there I was... sitting in the VA waiting room for-fucking-ever and reading all of the stupid shit people were posting about this Robertson guy from the Duck Dynasty show. In those three plus hours, I was unable to figure out the actual problem, so I gave up. Here's my interpretation:

This Phil guy said some shit about God and gays and terrorists, from what I can decipher. He didn't say we should burn all the gay people at the stake. He didn't say that they should be treated as less than humans. He said this:

"Start with homosexual behavior and just morph out from there. Bestiality, sleeping around with this woman and that woman and that woman and those men. Don't be deceived. Neither the adulterers, the idolaters, the male prostitutes, the homosexual offenders, the greedy, the drunkards, the slanderers, the swindlers—they won't inherit the kingdom of God. Don't deceive yourself. It's not right.
It seems like, to me, a vagina—as a man—would be more desirable than a man's anus. That's just me. I'm just thinking: There's more there! She’s got more to offer. I mean, come on, dudes! You know what I'm saying? But hey, sin: It's not logical, my man. It's just not logical."

Okay, I guess I could see why the GLAAD people were pissy. It was an idiotic statement to make, and it's a pretty fucked up and disgusting point of view, but it's also one that is pretty commonly held.

And then, apparently, the television network guys were all: "Holy shit. That's not good. These GLAAD people are straight pissed. We better take that dude off t.v. for a while... Or forever." Because apparently, putting ignorant hillbillies in the spotlight is only okay if they don't actually say shit that ignorant hillbillies are prone to saying, right? And by ignorant I mean the guy has a fucking Master's degree and built a multimillion dollar dynasty.

AND THEN because people have to have something to protest and bitch about, the boycott memes hit facebook with a vengeance. Apparently, no one will be watching A&E until they bring the ignorant hillbilly back onto the ignorant hillbilly show.

And just in case people started to less pissed off, someone, somewhere decided to publish something about this Robertson guy talking about how happy the black people were that he worked with. I don't know what the fuck that had to do with anything or why people should be more pissed... but there you go.
So, that's the situation.. and here is my response because for some reason I just can't shut the hell up about shit like this:

Mr. Robertson: You are obviously not an ignorant hillbilly. Therefore, whatever you said about terrorists, gay people and happy black people must be exactly what you believe. I'm a bit sad for you, but honestly, what you believe is your own fucking business. When a magazine interviews a person, they are expecting them to give an opinion. If, sir, you were waltzing around wearing a "Kill Gay People" t-shirt and shoving your socially unacceptable, but still widely held beliefs in people's faces, then you would just be an asshole. But as it happened, you gave your opinion when you were asked for it.

A & E: Holy fuck you're stupid. This guy obviously just totally owned the ignorant character you've been paying him to play for how long now? I've seen the show, and never got the impression that any of the people involved were anti-gay, or racist. I did get the vague feeling that the Phil guy is pretty goddamned sexist, but I guess that's okay because there was no huge public outcry from anyone. Did you only want the cute part of hillbilly on your hillbilly show?

GLAAD: I don't know much about you guys, but Jesus, please tell me you weren't really shocked about these statements. Of course, I get your point, but still... why in the name of God do you give a half a flying fuck what this guy says? He's part of a television show about fucking duck calls. Please tell me you don't think his statements are going to start a whole new anti-gay campaign... I mean other than the one his church apparently practices.

Boycotters: Um. Jesus. Freedom of Speech and shit. Because, goddamn 'Merica... First of all, Freedom of Speech is great, but it doesn't exactly apply here. See, the government isn't doing a damn thing to the guy. The network that features him is, because apparently they care about their public image. Boycott away, I'm reasonably sure they aren't really going to notice.

Whoever Brought Up The Jim Crow South: You win. I'm thoroughly baffled as to your point here. Yes, racism is bad.  Yes, that Phil guy may have been thoroughly out of touch with reality... but, just, what? He said the black people he worked with were happy and singing while he worked with them. And the media is ignoring that...? Or they aren't telling stories from 1912...? Or... fuck it, you made my brain hurt trying to figure that shit out.

16 December 2013

Global Warming...?

From sometime in 2011..

A few months ago, the heater’s blower motor in the mini van began to die a slow death. At first, it still blew some hot air and it would mysteriously kick on all of the sudden, and then quit. Slowly the intermittent blowing was replaced by a some-sort-of-dying-animal noise. And then, finally, the heater blew no more…At least in the front of the fan. Hot air was still blowing out of the vents in the back of the van, so if I started the car and let it run for a fairly long time, the heat would make its way up to the front of the car and defrost the windows for me, as well as warm the whole inside of the van. So, that’s how I have been doing it most of the winter, and it has been working just fine, except for today. Apparently this method is ineffective when the temperature dips into the negative double digits.

 Since I have found that every thing that can go wrong, will go wrong…I was hardly surprised when the power steering pump went out in the van as well. Art has assured me that it was not my method of Snow Removal that killed the power steering; on the other hand, my brother says that’s what happens when you use a mini van as a snow plow. I am a big fan of avoiding blame, so I am going to stick with Art on this one.

And finally, there is the fact that I am rarely cold. If I am cold, I am not usually cold for long because I start the car, let it get warm, run from the warm house to the warm car and then into where ever I am going to. The final destination is almost always WARM. So, I see no need for a heavy winter coat, or gloves or a hat and I usually stick with my light leather jacket.
And now that you have the back story….

Last night I went to work the closing shift at the bar.  I was, of course, running late, so I didn't bother to grab a hat or gloves. I threw my coat on and ran to the already warm car and drove to work, my ass half off the seat most of the time because I now need my entire body weight to turn a corner.
It was midnight when I left work and the temperature was -4 degrees. That's actual temperature...not wind chill. I started the car and let it run for over 20 minutes.

I locked the bar and got in to the car only to discover that the heat coming from the back blower will not sufficiently heat the car in subzero temperatures. Usually if it runs for long enough, the windows will even defrost. Not. Today.
There is a clear spot in the icy windshield, right in the middle, so I lean far to the right to see and steer at the same time. (Of course I could have scraped the ice off…but it was –4 freaking degrees outside, remember?) Once I start driving, the temp goes from -4 to -12 on the thermometer in the car. There is no warmth coming from the back of the car, my teeth are chattering, and my nose is frozen.
Since I neglected to bring any gloves with me, I am reduced to putting on a single kid’s glove that I found in the backseat, while sitting on the other hand, my nose pressed against the hand that is on the steering wheel because I am reasonably sure it is about to freeze and fall off. This is quite a picture.

As I am pulling out of the bar I realize that if anyone could see through my frosted windows, they would have to assume that the bartender is hammered, or sleeping, or maybe both.

Now, I probably would have been able to drive the entire way home that way, except I can't leave my ungloved hand tucked under my ass because I am unable to physically turn the stupid steering wheel with only one hand. Actually, I am physically unable to turn without utilizing my entire body weight and hooking my foot under the dash for leverage. I am not kidding. Stupid power steering pump.

When I stop at the stop light before my turn, I reach back and pull Cadence's Disney Princess hat on. It is pink, and glittery, and rather than simply stating “Princess” across the front, there are also pictures of the Disney Princesses. I look like a fucking retard at this point, I am sure. I reason that I am probably not going to get pulled over, though, because no sane cop wants to get out of the warmth of his car, (Which probably has perfect power steering by the way.) to pull over what appears to be a maybe-mentally-retarded-and-possibly-intoxicated-but-what-could-just-be-a-little-kid, driver.

I absolutely do not want to stop at the gas station. But I am out of cigarettes. And I am pretty sure we will need milk, and I know that there is no way in hell I am leaving the house in the morning after this whole fiasco; so I stop. I remembered to take the single glove off my hand before going in, which hardly mattered, because I forgot about the hat.

My teeth are chattering because the damn heater is actually blowing snow instead of hot air, and my nose is running, and I cannot park close to the door because there is no way I can make that tight of a turn, so I park at the pump and run.

"Cold out there huh?" Say the gas station lady. I am too cold to offer any witty retort so I roll my eyes at her instead and go about collecting the crap I need for morning. I briefly wonder if they will let me sleep in the gas station all night so I don't have to go outside.

But of course I don't ask. I run back to the car, drive - well, sort of - home and run into the house. I spend ten minutes sitting in front of the heater before removing my shoes and climbing into bed, jeans, coat, and stupid pink glittery hat still on my head.

I wake up early with the kids, and make a firm resolution to pack my shit and move somewhere south of here, where it is always warm...Just as soon as the power steering pump is fixed.