Bed Rocks

Apparently, the tard doesn't fall far from the tree...  Please enjoy an asinine IM conversation between two Cononies:

Brudder: mmm sleeping in rocks
Seestor: meh?
Brudder: haha i guess without proper separation that sentence could go either way
Brudder: sleeping in is great
Seestor: ohhhh
Seestor: yes
Brudder: lmao
Brudder: I AM SLEEPING IN ROCKS
Seestor: bahah
Seestor: that's what i thought was happening and i was all "WTF"

Comma to the Top

So, we've talked about Erin a lot on this blog.  Rightfully so, the girl is basically my other half and as of recently, we've deemed her a Sister Wife (along with Cortni, of course.)

(Husband is a lucky man.)

So. Erin teaches kids.  Little crazy monster kids.  I have this vision that they stand on the furniture and grunt and throw things and Erin has to scream at them and blow a whistle and beat on a cowbell while stomping her feet to get their asses to even listen to her.  Sounds like a nightmare really.  I have no idea how she does it.  And especially how she does it without being a raging alcoholic.

Well, apparently some of her monster kids have some MORON parents.  You know, the ones that name their kids "Shithead" *(It's pronounced Sha-theed. Duh.) 

Or La-A (The DASH don't be silent!)

Or. This is for real.  I'm not making this up... Erin was having some parent/teacher and I guess the parent was trying to spell out her kid's name that looked something like this:  La'Shani'qua

And do you know how she actually spelled the kids name? Out loud? To Erin?!

"L...A... Comma to the top..."

Yes people, COMMA TO THE TOP.  No apostrophe here. Oh no.  Comma.to.the.top. Hand gesture included.

Jesus Christ.

(Oh, and a fun side note: Erin also informed me that The Napkins Diaries is actually banned in all Greenville County Schools.  Probably because I do things like use the word "fuck," and talk about strippers too much, and have disgusting sex dreams, and I make fun of the way they spell their names... Imma consider that a personal win.)

It's Not For You

So the last two Tuesdays have been obnoxious.  I've left work at my normal 4:45 time, and then get on the highway and for some dumbass reason, I-526 is a parking lot and I miss my gym classes.  The first Tuesday that this occurred, my two work besties were already at Happy Hour at Sesame, so clearly there was only one place for me to go. 

If I can't burn calories, might as well consume them, right?  Whatever. 

So now that I was clearly on a downward spiral, I decided to chug my beers and willingly disclose the most disgusting sex dream I've ever had in my entire life.  And of course I decide to tell the two maniacs who will likely mock me for the rest of my life and never let me live this down.

See, there's a back story - Cortni has been taunting me basically since the day we met that I'm going to have the misfortune of eventually having a sex dream about someone in our office.  Particularly one of the more uh, disgusting ones.  And very hairy.  Every chance she gets she's all "Ewwww, you're totally going to dream about Hairball and all of his fluffy hair.  And you're going to run your hands through it and like it."

And then I die a little on the inside and I get a terrible mental picture and just GROSS.

And then one day, one horrible sad day, it all came true.  The dream happened. 

In the dream, I was laying all sexy on my bed, waiting for my "boyfriend" (let me be clear, my boyfriend in the dream was NOT the Hairball, but some anonymous cute boy), to come into the room for a nice naked surprise.  But insteeead, Hairball busted through the door.  And proceed to try to pet my face and tell me its okay.  In a quick attempt to save myself, I did this awkward cover-my-goodies move and cry "It's not for yoooooou."  And then I forced myself to wake up.

Y'all.  It was traumatic. I woke up sweaty, and not in the fun way.  I was so disturbed that I thought I'd have to take this disgusting dream secret to the grave.  How was I ever going to be able to speak of this?!

Or... because I'm apparently a sucker for self-sabotage and could only hold this little gem inside for a few days, all it took was about 3 beers before I was all pinky-swearing with them to never tell anyone.

So, I told them.  And they mocked me.  But surprisingly, I felt a little relieved that I shared my dark secret with someone.  Then the more we discussed the disgustingness, the more we thought it was pretty blog-worthy, but my main concern was that I would not be able to accurately portray the "cover-my-goodies" move. 

But no worries.  Oh-ho no worries at all. Clearly, Katelyn had this all planned out. Clearly, she created the most obnoxiously accurate picture ever.  CLEARLY, she was absolutely 100% able to perfectly depict the essence of my pure horror when Hairball walked into my sex-dream-gone-bad and forced me to whimper, pathetically, "It's not for yoooooou":


And with that, I leave you.