2 Brunette Blow-Up Dolls Please

I have hatched a plan. 


Genius really. 
You see sometimes during the week I have a hard time trying to figure out why the hell I work full-time while taking 14 credit hours at the local college and AND AND I still care for the 2 demon children I squeezed out the vagina. Am I crazy?? I suppose I am but that is besides the point right now. 


I found a temporary solution!


Jen and I need to acquire 2 brunette long haired blow-up dolls to switch places with us at the workplace that way we can go eat and drink while the rest of you workers are working. Guys at work will never know! SHHH. Not like they talk to me much, or even give a shit about me. I could pull it off. Totally. 


All that was needed were 2 blow-up dolls; Hair extensions for Jen's bitch; business casual clothing for our whore dolls; voice recorders and a get-away vehicle. Easy. 


It was a serious plan. 
See: 

me: We should buy blow-up dolls to pose for us during work and go grab drinks. No one will ever notice!

 Sent at 9:08 AM 

me: Who has blow-up dolls that you know? See of Joe has a couple in his truck, hell check the back seat while you are at it.

Jennifer: HAHAA! i love the way your mind works...i think i have some under my bed

ewww...i dont even want to know what these perverts have!

Joe prolly only has black ones anyways!

they wudnt work

 Sent at 9:12 AM 

me: yeah. I am not dark. DAMN IT! Plan is ruined, thanks JOE!

 Sent at 9:14 AM 

Jennifer: hmmm...need a plan b! stupid life ruiner 

Joe

And then my plan was ruined. 

I knew this was going to happen. 


ALL I WANT IS TO DITCH WORK FOR A FEW HOURS. I hate being stuck here in this... this....this... place. 

Also this week in school: 

I am taking a Social Work class and it dawned on me. 

"I hate people....what the fuck am I doing here?" 

Good going Rox, good fucking going. 

Beetle

I need a new car. 


Long ago I needed a newer, cleaner, purrier car, but I got stuck with my current bug-a-boo.
Such a girl car. I love forcing D to drive it around. sucker


AAhh I can almost see my new car. Shiny, not-my-old-car, smelling like something other than crayons, speedometer workin, free of legos and all. 


Shut your face. I can't afford it right now, that's just a small obstacle at the moment. I am working on a money making scheme as I type. 


I have been driving around my little car that sounds like a box of legos going over a million pot holes and smells of crayons. WHY??? 
I hear rattles and shakes, speedometer doesn't work, I can't tell how much gas I have, middle console is broken, and did I mention that it sounds like a BOX-OF-LEGOS and smells like crayons?
Don't know what that sounds like? Go shake a box of legos. That's what my Beetle sounds like. 


I'm to lazy to take it in. Someone please take her away. Fix it. DO SOMETHING! 
I am going crazy with the legos! 
Legos please just go away!!! Get the fuck away from me. 
Dear Hey-Zues... I think my car is driving me insane.

I absolutely refuse taking the car to the gas station so imagine my horror when it comes to tune-ups and repairs. Nightmares. Big, fat, ugly nightmares. 


Repair man: please rid me of my legos hiding underneath my car, shaking when I go 30 mph. I told my little whore car not to eat those. I will pay you, as long as you come to me and you don't fuck up my car like Don did when he told me he dealt with VW's but really didn't and I was going to punch his fat gut in when I noticed he messed it up more than he fixed it and I didn't pay him the rest of his "repair" monies, I should have sued that son-of-a-bitch. Yeah please don't do that. Gracias. 


On the plus side my windshield is free of cracks from the freeway mattress!
So there, SUCK IT aggressive windshield selling guys at the car wash. BWAHAHAHA!!! 

Rippin One

Come on everyone, you've smelled it before...shit breath.


Some call it halitosis, I say it's shit and it is nasty. 


Please, if your breath is offensive try your best to cover it up. 
There have been a few instances where I think I might have vomited a little bit in my own mouth due to someone's lack of brushing teeth. 


I want to talk about something else that smells like shit (sometimes not always), farts. 


While getting dressed this morning Derek says to me "Hey does the fridge need some WD 40 or what?" I was confused for a moment but then realized I let one loose in the kitchen. 
Good ear D, good ear.  


Now Derek, I do have to say that you have the most rotten smelling gas in the world. 


I yelled at him this morn not to be farting on my side of the bed. That cheese would stay on the mattress for life and I don't want to lay in gassy stench until we get a new mattress. 


He doesn't have the tiny whispering ones that go silently and dissipate evenly with minimal odor. He has the ones that can kill live flowers on sight with the stench of death. Everything wilts in its wake. 


ALAS! 


I gave it a new name today, I call it halitosis of the ass. It works right? Where's my WebMd contract for employment bitches?!


Halitosis of the ass: Repulsive odor ejected from the ass region. Number known to suffer from this, Unknown. Cause - unknown in nature, likely to be diet but perhaps medical condition. Or rotting intestines. Treatments - unknown to you sorry saps who's asses smells like continuous cycles of shitty ass breath.  
     
Derek has it. This new disease that's not really new but who gives a shit. I am uncertain if there is any cure at the moment. Derek seems to think that there is.  
I swear I sometimes think that something is dying inside of him. He said he going to try eating more pineapples. What the hell? Hypothesis, experiment, here we go. 


So he happens to be very flatulent, probably to much but what can I do? Tell him to stop eating burning hot wings and beer? Probably.
What is going to happen when he is elderly and has no control over his halitosis of the ass? You think diapers cover the vapors? I might have to get him some now that I am really putting some thought into this. 


The big thing that really gets me about his smelly wind is that he gives zero warning when about to blow. Yeah none. 


Can a person die if subjected to massive amounts of dutch ovening? I might have died a few times from that. 


Another note why is it that guys farts smell much worse than the female populations? 
Is it the foods? Or what the hell am I talking about because I know some of you ladies out there have some Halitosis of the Ass too! 
I don't think I do. I hope I don't. 
Damn you HALITOSIS OF THE ASS! DAMN YOU! 


We will someday find a cure for you D. Pinky promise. 

Asian Fetish Perhaps?

I have the most uncomfortable conversations at times.

Yesterday I had one of those weird convos. 
Before I continue, I will admit that I mostly start these weird interactions with the freaks that I meet. 

Right now, that is besides the point BECAUSE this time I was working. Not like on a street corner or anything.  Hello I left my boots at home.

I was going about doing my work (mostly sitting messaging my bitch about bitches) when this old decrepit attorney comes to my desk and hands me his parking card to get validated. Innocent enough. 
He looks at me with his massive wrinkles around his tiny eyes then squints behind the glasses and says “Heyyyy, who are you?”

I look at him and want to say something smart but I stick with “Oh I’m Rox-----------“

I go about trying to figure out the fucking military time so I could put enough validation stickers on his little card so he could stop staring at me like a piece of juicy meat.

He then asks me “Where are you from?”

I look around like what the shit? Really MF’er? I am from earth like every other human on this planet yo!

Once more my work ethics kicks in just in time for me to give him the “hey go fuck yourself look” but keeps the mouth within reasonable fuckoffness that he wouldn’t notice and say “From here… Phoenix.” Finger twirling in the air. 

Back to trying to figure out what the hell 14:33 subtracted from 16:47 divide the one add the three, carry the four. Shit I am hopeless at math.

“Ohh really, I thought you were Asian or something” he replies slyly.

HUGE PAUSE

I look up. And I want to puke. Like all over his unattractive face but then who knows if he would like that.

Back to my calculations, I can’t hear myself think over his creepy voice now telling me that the Japanese and Chinese hold their women highly and even paint them because they are sooo beautiful. 

What.the.fuck?!!!! 

Is this old creeper hitting on me?

I am like the bottom of the barrel dude. You know like the secretary/receptionist/assistant/recycler of copiers/filer/ bullshitter. WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING OLD MAN? Really. I would love to know your thought process.

Bizarre. Right? Hey-Zues, I swear people have issues and severe Asian fetishes. 

Now can I make a career out of this Asian-ness that people seem to think I have?? 

Disposing of a Copier Machine

News to me everyone, just in! We are getting a Law Clerk! 
A law clerk you ask. Yeah, me too. 
I don't know what the fuck a Law Clerk does but I hope they don't get paid more than I do. That would be a crying shame.  


Making room at the office for a new "law clerk" we have to move shit around. Like you know books, stacks of old cases, mountains of paper, old machines, more paper, office junk, more paper and all that other crap offices contain, but mostly paper. 


Our office isn't very big either. It's full of papers and bullshit that people apparently have trouble parting with. Say the big ass old copier that is used by no one. It just sits there like a fat lazy blob. 
Doing nothing but collecting dust and looking ugly. 


So one of the guys asked me to research recycling or donating this monstrous machine that may or may not work. Great. That's what I get paid for folks. Recycling shit.  


Google and I started working together and why the flying fuck do all of these websites have a lot of nothing on ginormous copiers trying to be recycled? Copiers that are almost obsolete and are older than my youngest sister who is 14. That means that this thing was made when I was 10 years old and it is the ugliest thing I have laid eyes on right after Cat Face lady and Carrot Top. Just ugly! 


I didn't find much. So I decide to lookup the next best thing. 


I googled "How to throw a heavy copier out of a window" and am presented with this bullshit:

This is NOT HELPING Google. 
Forget recycling. I wanna throw something out the window. Preferably a heavy Xerox copier. Why not? No one is going to miss it. 


Although I am positive it would be frowned upon. That and I am on the 10th floor. 
Okay toss that idea out the window. Get it? AHAHA. NO? Fine. Moving on.


Recycling and/or disposing of said copier costs money. Money people in the office are not willing to spend on just to have someone take the sonofabitch away. I am presented with another dilemma. No one here has a truck willing to use to take it to be destroyed. 


What to do? What to do? 


Who wants a giant dusty copier with a few kinks that may or may not work? Anyone? I am located in Mid-town Phoenix Arizona. Email me. Thanksforyourconsideration now come get this piece of shit out of my office, I'll throw in a cup of coffee too. 

Shot Glass

Before I go on and tell you about the happening please read this first if you haven't done so already. It helps with the story. Seriously. 


New Years eve.


I didn't have to work so I cleaned my house for our New Year's party. 
All day. I have two kids and a little sister I care for so clean doesn't stay for long in my home. 


After cleaning all flipping day getting everything set up I realized with horror that I had some vital pieces missing for later in the night. 


Fireworks?       CHECK
Beer?                CHECK
Chips?              CHECK
Salsa?              CHECK
Boots?              CHECK
Caution Tape? CHECK
Patron?             CHECK
Bottles of random booze?  CHECK
Champagne?   CHECK 
Shot Glasses?  NO CHECK    


What?!!! No shot glasses! FUCK!!!! 


I felt at this point my party that had yet to start, was over. I FAILED. I could have sworn we had one or two shot glasses. What kind of alcoholic party thrower was I with no shot glasses? How was Patron going to join the party stuck in his little bottle? 


I called Jen but she had already left the store. She had asked me if I had champagne and I said yes but no shot glasses. 


Little did I know the bottle that resembles champagne much like Javier Bardem and Jeffrey Dean Morgan resemble each other. I just got confused. I can't tell the difference!


You see what happened was:


My mom got me a bottle of some (what appeared to be bubbly) champagne looking stuff (I don't know why she knows I adore Lambrusco) and 4 wine glasses for Christmas. I have the best mom, right?  I totally needed those wine glasses. I only had 3, so only 2 of my friends were able to drink from a wine glass and not some plastic tumbler while in my home. How embarrassing. Hooray for me, I have more wine glasses now. What up vino party! Anyone? Yeah? NO? I'll ask again later. 


My what-I-thought-to-be champagne was actually sparkling wine. I neglected to look at the label until people were on their way. Sparkling wine! Not champagne. Can you believe that shit? I was going to pass it off for champagne at midnight. God help me we were not going to let the bottle go to waste. 


You know what I don't think anyone knew the difference once midnight came. The bottle was actually pretty tasty. We were all in the backyard watching Derek almost scorch that beard he was working on for several months almost get burned off with fireworks. It was awesome. 

                                                    The Mens

                                                     The Womens


Before all this magic happened though Derek and I were searching fruitlessly for those fucking shot glasses. All over the kitchen. I mean at one point I might have even looked in places where shot glasses wouldn't even fit, say toaster, under fridge to no avail. He said he remembered we had one or two too. They were no where to be found. So we made our friend who lives a jump, hop and a skip away to get some shot glasses from his house, since I am a horrible host and couldn't provide some of my own. 
No one is ever coming over to party anymore. I bet. 

                                                         That is my "Patron Face" 


There we were in the kitchen, I on my 3rd beer, second shot was feeling pretty damn good and talkative. I really need to stop talking so much when I drink. It's a problem. A horrible problem. I tell my self to shut the fuck up but it never works longer than a few seconds then I forget and start talking about a whole lot of nothing again. Ugh. Sorry if I ever put someone through that. I will try to work on that. Promise. 


Where was I?


Ohh yeah okay, okay we were in the kitchen and Derek get's this look on his bearded face...an epiphany if you will. 


He smiles at me, turns to open the freezer, reaches in and pulls out one of our shot glasses!
What the hell? Why? 


I take a closer look and am like "What is that?" Looking at the solid white stuff on the bottom of the shot glass. "What the fuck?" I was thinking ice. 
Derek "You said you wanted some face wash, remember?"
Me "Is that your splooge? Are you fucking serious DEREK?!!" 


Everyone looks at us. Yup, that was his splooge. In our shot glass. In the freezer. Waiting to be put on my face. 


*Huge sigh* 


Look, as a defense I recall saying something about how it makes my face super soft. I didn't think he would really put some away for me. Who does that? What the fuck did I really get into with this guy? 

Fuck. 


Derek has a serious problem with putting things that are not food in the freezer. Remember this? I need to keep an eye on that. 


Before I forget!!!! Jen fell asleep early so we Roxed her. Caution. 



If you remember from my party. (Click Here) I got Roxed. So BOOM there you go Jen. 


Also, if you are ever at my house you can totally use one of my wine glasses in place of the shot glass Derek ruined. Or just bring your own. 


Happy New Year everyone from that bearded guy and I. 

Rox

Brownie Box

First off let me say how relieved I am that I no longer have to buy people gifts anymore and can now rest assure until next year that all my money is going to myself. And perhaps a few things for the demons. 


No shoes but I did get this bad ass drawing tablet I put to use for a couple of drawings below, don't mind them I am experimenting. 


I had a great Christmas, but now that shit is over so let's move the fuck on. 


This story happened 6 years ago.


When I first met Derek he lived in this super bachelor pad of an apartment.
By super bachelor pad I mean shit was a mess. And there were a few other issues I had. One: he lived with another man in his 30's; two: his apartment was tiny and; three: he had 3 cats. Not one or two but 3 fucking cats. 

Oldest cat was the meanest, boy cat pissed on everyfuckingthing and a girl cat that acted more like a dog. 


A grown ass man living with another man in a itty bitty apartment with only one bathroom the size of my closet with the most horrible lighting ever and three cats was hard for me to come to terms with. HARD. 
Why the hell did Derek have so many cats? Why was this apartment so tiny? How come the only food he had was Bagel Bites? Why is his roommate always playing video games and hogging up the couch? Why did it smell like that? Did he ever think about moving? What the fuck was I thinking? Why did he have so many cats? And most importantly how long had this been going on? 


On one of my trips to his apartment his momma cat sniffed around my shoes and while Derek said "Ohh I think she really likes you, she doesn't like anyone." As soon as that was out of his mouth his psychotic cat dug her claws in my legs and started scratching me up. I almost kicked her head in. Really YEAH Derek she really liked me.   


I soon realized that his apartment was not only messy it was a disaster. 
This went unnoticed for a while, then like after a long nights drinking you finally wake up devoid of  beer goggles and you become aware of that ugly stranger sleeping next to you and it hits you. The actuality of doing it. You throw up and get the hell out of there as fast as you can. You just seen all of your passion makers details. This is never good. Never ever. You throw up again. 


It was like that with the apartment.

One day I woke up and suddenly became conscious of it all. The dirtiness enclosed in such a small area that didn't seem to bother Derek or the roommate. It was gross. I asked him if he ever cleaned. His version of cleaning is picking things up and putting them in piles. I highly doubt that any cleaning was ever done other than that first trip I made to his room. He tossed everything in the closet to give the illusion that it was clean. He did say that a few friends offered to clean up for him. Hello Derek that is the biggest hint one can give.  


I took it upon myself to clean that shit city up. I went to the store and loaded up with all of the essential shit city cleaning supplies I needed. I got all I could and I was still unsure if it was even enough. 
It took me so fucking long to even know where to begin.  
From there it was all scrubbing, sweeping, washing, dusting, scouring, mopping and whatever the hell else there was to do. 


Remember I said he had 3 gato's. Those fuckers didn't make cleaning any easier.
Let me say this about cat urine if you have never had the pleasure. 
It fucking reeks. FUCKING REEKS. 
BAD. 
I hate cat pee smell. 
If there is one thing in this world that gets me angrier than stupid people, gaining weight, being hungry and slow drivers it's cat piss. 
Derek said his boy cat would pee on any sort of clothing, cloths and towels or anything left on the floor which made me want to slam his big ass furry head into the wall when ever I accidently left something on the floor. I lost a lot of good clothes that way. 
Derek tried to act like washing it in hot water would take the smell out.
It didn't. 
It was ruined for life. 
There was no going back.
I sure as shit was not going to be wearing any clothes that ever so slightly smelled like kittie tinkle and glowed under black lights. Fuck that. 


They did have a litter box and I had to constantly remind Derek of his furry parental duties. That's when shit got bad. If he left it for to long his cats got pissed and shat and urinated everywhere. 
I left that for Derek to deal with because getting close to the litter box had to be hazardous. It made my eyes burn and I didn't last more than a few seconds before my lungs started aching. 


All day I cleaned and cleaned. 
I left the kitchen for last. 
Unprepared in a kitchen that has never seen a cleaner in who knows how many years is scary stuff. 
Grease was on almost every single surface and it appeared that these fellas lived off of their old microwave and a butter lubricated George Foreman grill. I am not kidding either. It didn't seem like any cooking on the stove was ever done. Where the grease came from? Who the fuck knows. It was like 20 year old grease. Caked on so thickly might as well been constructed purely from lard. I couldn't get it off for the life of me. 


I left it. Fuck that grease. 
I hit the fridge area very last. Opened it up to condiments expired 5 years ago, half empty bottles of juice, moldy ass left overs and boxes of what looked like Fairy Brownies in the freezer. Cereal boxes lined the top of their fridge with menacing sun faded pictures from many, many moons ago.  


What the hell? I was seriously questioning what I was doing trying to attempt this cleaning expedition by myself. Crazy perhaps? Yeah. That's it. Fumes from the kitty litter box finally killed most of my good senses. 


I started just throwing stuff away. Derek came home and started saying "Oh that looks like it still might be good." Trying to save what he could. 
"Really Derek? Because that shit expired when I was like 8 years old. It's getting tossed. LET GO! I swear to god if you pick that from the trash I am going to kick your ass!" 
This went on back and forth with most of his weevil infested pancake mixes and cereals. 
What is funny about that is I myself didn't even know what weevil's were at that point. We grew up poor and ate everything we had in house. There was never weevil's in our stuff. 


I finally make it to the freezer where the brownie box was and ask D "How long have you had these?" He hurriedly comes over and says "Those aren't brownies." Snatches it away and puts them back in the freezer. 
"Uhhh-okay. Well what is it then?" 
He looks at me with his long lashes and says "I don't want to tell you."
Really? Then walks away. 
Motherfucker. I just spent my day cleaning and possibly getting some sort of rash on my hands from your dirty shit and you don't want to talk about this brownie box? 

"Who got you those brownies?" 


Nothing 


"DEREK! Where did those come from?" 


Finally "I got those a long time ago from whats-her-face (bitch I do not like)" 


Oh shit. 
Fighting commences. 
I wanted to know but I was to pissed off/scared to look in the box. 


A few weeks later


Derek and I are drinking. At some point we are terribly intoxicated and I start asking about the mystery fairy brownie box. 
Derek is not a good drunk. He caved fast and told me. Haha Derek is easy. 
His brown eyes started getting watery and he starts telling me about what was in the brownie box. 


Flash-forward to the moment of pure whatthefuckness.

"WHAT! Are you fucking serious Derek, you have a box of 3 baby kittens in your fucking freezer?" Gag reflex went into extra gaggy mode. 
He explains what happened and I am still "WHAAAAAAT the fucking fuck?! Why would you keep 3 frozen baby kittens in a brownie box for that long?" 


We did the next best thing. We dug a hole next to the building and gave them a proper burial.
No Jesus pieces were used but we did pour one for the homies by way of beer. No 40's were available.  


The whole time I just thought that they were really, really old brownies from cunt face.  


True story. 
Rox