August 28, 2008

Last Discussion About the Hurricane (Which is Such a Lie.)

I don't mean to drone on and on about the storm. On Twitter, Plurk, here, at work, on various chat boards, yawn!!!

How would ya'll deal with a fucking huge storm on top of your island oasis? You would be pissed. And hope for the best. Optimism! Wee!

Then....add on to that stupid asshole of a storm, a potential that while you are working on getting a tan in potential downpours, that same fucker of a storm hits your hometown. Where your friends, favorite bar, home, job and cats are. All unattended.

I would probably guess that you would develop an ulcer (and then you would name it Tom).

And then you would drink Vodka. And maybe tequila. And if you had red wine, you would drink it, but you don't, so you stick with vodka.

And then you would pack and hope that all those cute little skirts and bathing suits will come in handy.

At this point, due to the insurance industries' strict definition of "uninhabitable" and disregard for "ideal vacations" which is totally not defined within the policy, it appears that we are going to Jamaica, bitches.

Of course, just like the spot where the storm will hit the U.S., that will change in the next update, in the next hour.

August 26, 2008


There is a fucking hurricane over Jamaica right now. I am going to kill Gustav. Ya'll...I am freaking out and am super pissed and want to destroy Gustav and his family.

I hope I don't run into any guys named Gustav today. Because I will spit in their general direction. And maybe hiss.

What the hell do you do when there is a fucking hurricane in the path of your vacation?

I twittered that it should hit Europe. I don't hate Europe or anything, well not most parts of it, but I am not flying to Europe in a matter of days. Flying over a fucking hurricane.

Ya'll, I am about to puke and then punch out random people. Which is probably better than the Bloggess who is tattooing random cats today. But whatever. Fucking hurricane.

Someone count the number of times I have used fuck in this post, because that, my friends, is the definition of restraint.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck!!!

Point by Point

1. Texas should not have any open air stadiums. Houston v. Dallas? Houston wins every time. Because we air-condition our stadiums and equip them with retractable roofs, should there be a single day out of the season where it is below 105 degrees and only 92% humidity. Dallas? Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. This is Texas, folks. The annual "Governor's Cup" or whatever it is called, with Houston Texans vs. the Cowboys was this past weekend. At 10 P.M., I was sweating. Football is a cold weather sport. Not a sweating activity. I hate you Texas Stadium. I vote to tear it down.

2. Could anyone out there explain what "wallygosses" are? They are a sort of scary monster to a 3 year old. I have spelled it phonetically, but of course, from a 3 year old, she could be referring to Barney or the Teletubbies.

3. Why did I play a game with a 3 year old where we were breaking out of jail and hiding from the cops. One of us is a bad influence on the other. I am pointing at the kid.

August 18, 2008

Winner Winner Chicken Dinner!

Oh Hi. Um, how are you doing? Me, I’m fine. Just have been a bit overwhelmed with, well, living, I guess. I never meant to go so long without calling you. I just, I don’t know... it just slipped my mind. You mean so much to me, I am so sorry. I am embarrassed by my actions. Please forgive me.

When last we talked, I posed a contest. A How Long Does It Take Fianna To Be a Lobster Contest.

No one guessed it right! There wasn’t even a closest without going over winner.

Which truly, does not surprise me. At all. Because can anyone even count that low?

The answer to how many minutes did I, the redhead, stay in a tanning bed on her first visit to a tanning place ever. How many minutes did it take to turn me to a pretty pink pink, is . . .

4 Minutes.

Oh how pale I am of the Palest variety of the Pales.

I have gone a total of 3 times so far. I did 4 minutes, then 3 minutes, and 4 again. The last 2 trips, I wore SPF 4 tanning lotion and have not turned pink pink again.

And! Lines!

I has tan!

There is clear and convincing evidence of a tan. Now… look at a piece of white paper. That is before, now, go look at a sheet of ivory paper – like resume paper. That is now. Well, maybe a bit optimistic, but I really really think there is a slight change of color to this white soul.

And if my mom Kaytabug Sophie is reading this, don’t worry, I am taking SPF Forty Bazillion with me to Jamaica.


We have 2 winners. Because I said so.

She guessed the closest with 5 minutes. I have thought about going 5 minutes…but am skerred. Of the red.

Karmyn gets first and a half place because she was the closest winner on the first guess.

Ladies! Email me at fiannafiannafianna AT gmail DOT com and provide an address where I can send super cool Jamaican stuff. The supercool stuff that doesn’t get confiscated or end up with me in jail. Sorry. I may love you, but I have been watching Locked Up Abroad. Red is not the only thing I am skerred of.

August 12, 2008

Operation Jamaica

Our efforts to look like Adonis and well, Adonisa, I guess, at the beach continues.

Tonight I got off work late, ran to the gym, killed myself there, ran home for a quick shower, went tanning again and came home. Once home, I cooked a grilled cheese sandwich and now, minutes after eating it, I sit here typing at 10:30. Whew.

I apologize for not being more responsive on the tanning contest. It does continue as no one has guessed the right number. I will leave it open awhile longer, at least until I get a chance to properly draft a blog post about my tanning adventure.

In the meantime, here is some training for you:

I go bed now.

August 11, 2008

An Amazing Shade of Red

Facts About My Weekend:

We spent a fortune on booking and buying crap and preparing ourselves for Our Big Vacation. We are going to Jamaica, bitches.

Snorkel! Cannot wait to snorkel. Wonders if I must have flippers. I do have water shoes, for the corals and stuff. Anyone? I am not a lover of the flipper, the shoes, not the dolphin. Dolphins are ok, I guess. Except kinda dumb for swimming with Charlie the Tuna.

I ran another 3 miles without feeling quite like I was going to die. Just kinda sorta. Would have been much easier if I wasn’t wearing shorts that insisted on crawling up inside my body during the run.

In addition to snorkels, and clothing and water shoes purchased for the vacation in Jamaica, we joined a NEWER, BRIGHTER, PRETTIER, THINNER gym. Because if we go to a gym that has skinny, pretty people, maybe we will become skinny and pretty, by osmosis. To me, if it means that I can run the treacherous 3 miles indoors as opposed to outside the doors, I am happy. Even if I have to watch anorexics wander the gym. Although, I could eat them I am so hungry, so they better stay clear.

On this super fast track to looking awesome for Our Big Vacation which is happening in like minutes, we also went to a Tanning Salon.

Hi, my name is Fianna, I am a freaking redhead.

However, I am ever so grateful to have accepted the ribbing from Not Craig about wearing my tightie whities to the tanning salon. I am ever so grateful for the tightie whities. ‘Nuff said.

Today, I am pink. With shades of coral red! This is my first ever visit to a tanning salon. Between Mr. Abercrombie and Mr. Fitch at the front desk talking like retarded valley girls and the Pink Skin, an interesting experience. We are doing this under a free 2 week trial membership so at least I am not paying to burn. And yea, no lectures. I am the one that nicknames her friends, Mela-Noma. I am trying to prepare for spending long hours on the beach. In Jamaica. Bitches.

Let’s have a contest! How many minutes was I in the tanning bed in order to turn a wonderful shade of coral?

The winner will get a prize from Jamaica. But you must be prepared to be patient. When I say I am going in minutes, I mean more like weeks.

I may be an exaggerator. But this exaggerator? Is going to Jamaica!

August 5, 2008

Preparations for the Tropical Storm.

I wanted to post this last night. You know, in case I woke up dead. Or with the power off. Or hung over with no ambition for blogging.

Blogger hates Tropical Storms apparently. Including any freaking out! Respect The Storm!

So, anyhoo, I prepared thoroughly for the Tropical Storm.

I looked through my cupboards. Found granola bars, green beans and Vodka.

I was nervous. I was out of red wine. I seriously considered venturing out for red wine. However, the news was reporting that lines at Wal-Mart reached to the back of the store, I felt that I could do with vodka. I know. I am taking my chances. What if I am unable to get out of the house for days on end. The closest gas station that may sell a really cheap wine or Shiner, which could serve as a substitute, is a full 2 blocks away. TWO BLOCKS!

So, if you don't get another update, send a nice Shiraz. K? Thx.

With plenty of alcohol and canned goods, I then ensured that all outdoor items were secured. Well, items that were under my control and not icky like the trash cans. I pulled all my plants inside.

I would like to bring everyone's attention to 2 things in this picture. Look at how well my plants have recovered from my murder attempts. Second, see the cats. 14 hours later, the damn cats are in the exact same location, eating leaves.

I am off from work today, due to inclamate weather. It sure is clammy weather.

August 2, 2008

The Sweet In Between

It isn’t that I am at an in-between stage anymore. I am in a completely different stage.

The problem is, I haven’t quite figured myself out in this new stage or even exactly what stage I am in, or how to meet and make friends with others in this new stage, whatever it may be.

A stage beyond the last one. A stage where I have left a good friend of mine.

It sucks to notice the different settings we are in. To look back and wish her the best. But know that I am not there anymore and I don’t want to be. She does. This creates a rift.

It might be easier if I had more friends in this new stage. If I could just say, sorry, too busy, can’t do what you want to do.

Instead, I say naaahh, not interested. And stay at home. Because I haven’t quite figured out where I am and how to meet other people that aren’t sure where they are at either. So at least we could be at a spot unknown, together. So I won’t be alone in this in-between.

blog template by : header image by Vlad Studio