I am NOT happy..

Things are going pretty amazing right now and naturally, this terrifies me. My train of thought:

1. Everything is great today! I can't think of a single thing to complain about!

2. Woohoo! Another awesome day! YAY!

3. Another.. great.. day?! Hmm..

4. Alright, a week of bliss must mean that I'm about to get fired, dumped, AIDs, pregnant, evicted, jaundice, and/or dead.

5. Ok, well nothing bad has happened.. YET but I need a plan. Perhaps if I pretend to dwell on the negative things, the universe will think I'm just a regular, unsatisfied human being and will skip me when it come time to balance out my happiness with devastation! GOOD IDEA!

My boyfriend is amazing mean. I think these bites on my arm is from mosquitos black widows.

Maybe, that'll stave off the happiness allotment gods for now..

Finished!

I finished my baby bib gift yesterday! Eeee, the excitement!! Heebs is in a band and the guitarist is expecting a little one soon so I decided it would be a fun, novice project. Here's the completed pictures of the handmade gift box and bibs!

I took a photo box, ribbon, some craft paper and fancied that shit up! 

The completed bibs! 

Finished product!

99 problems and a ghost is one..

I'm being haunted. Yeah. 


It all started innocently enough. It was last Friday night in New Orleans.  Heebs and I are trying to find something to do beside getting Bourbon Street induced alcohol poisoning. We came to New Orleans a couple months back for his birthday and attempted Bourbon but our livers hearts weren't in it anymore. Perhaps it was the sidewalk strippers trying to lure us into their shame dungeons. Or maybe the overly aggressive shot girls that would literally pour grain alcohol down your throat when you weren't looking and then demand $28 dollars. Either way, we've outgrown it and decided to explore other options. 


Me: Omigod, let's go on this haunted tour of New Orleans! It has like 5 stars on tripadvisor.com! This one guy said it MADE his trip!
Heebs: Ughffffttt
Me: What?! You don't want to go?!?!!?!
Heebs: Hmm... I guess... 
Me: YAYAAYAYA! This is going to be fun! 

So, we meet up with our tour guide and about 20 others at the Blacksmith bar on Bourbon. (Cool bar, oldest in Nola, See above!) I immediately note three things:


1. Wow, my tour companions has to be the most random ass group of people ever. In the history of tours.
2. Why did I wear jeans? (Even though it was close to 9 pm, it was still 120 degrees from my calculations)
3. I'm not so sure that this trashy, drunk couple should go on a walking tour seeing how they can't even stand. 


But, I immediately dismiss my negative thoughts and start mentally coaching myself and my wary companion. "Let's keep an open mind!" "Maybe she makes stops at bars." 


So, we start off on the tour and she stops at some random pole, sits on the ground, and starts pouring cornstarch into some cross formation with random squiggilies. She said this will open up ourselves to the spirits. She also said at the end of the tour she would close out the pole squiggilies so we wouldn't get a hitchhiking ghost on our backs. Oh, okay?


To make a long story short, it was the hottest, most miserable night of my life. Ok, I'm being a little dramatic but it wasn't fun. And ever since that night, I have had been uncharacteristically scared of my own shadow. I'm convinced that I brought a hitchhiking ghost home. So far, the ghost doesn't really do anything but stand over me while I sleep. I know this because I keep abruptly waking up every couple hours with a general feeling of fright and agitation. Also, our lamp turned itself on and off throughout the night. Heebs said it's because we dropped it and the lightbulb is loose but I call bullshit. My soul is about to be devoured and it's all because that chain smoking, whack job of a tour guide. 

I'm Sew Sweet

Well, about 2 weeks ago, I decided that I needed a hobby. (Besides obsessing about my weight and taking naps) 


I ran across a craigslist ad for a brand new Brother SE-400 for half off! I know, amazing. So, I met the guy in the mall parking lot for our transaction with the manfriend, Heebs. (I know, I have a gift at picking pet names.) Heebs was adorably protective by checking out the box as if he knew the ins and outs of a sewing machine and writing the guy's tag number down. So then naturally, we go to 14 different stores so I can buy anything and everything sewing related. 


So far, I had made a pillow, headbands, and some pretty cute baby bibs. (I still have to add the velcro but basically done)




Whatcha think? 

Domestic Deviant's Introduction

"I don't mind living in a man's world, as long as I can be a woman in it."
— Marilyn Monroe

I use to think that admitting that I love being domestic meant that I wasn't as strong, evolved, or independent as some women. My biggest fear was being a ordinary, frumpy housewife. So, it was my goal to be fiercely independent. I wanted to do two things before I lived with a man. (I decided this at the ripe age of 14.)

1. Live on my own

2. Live downtown (I thought it was so Sex & the City)

And I completed both my goals, like a boss. It was horrible yet necessary. Living downtown, I encountered masturbating hobos (yes plural) and a unmatchable hatred for scene kids. I lived next door to a punk bar and I would die a happy woman if I never see a fashion mullet again! -Shivers- 

Living on my own was bad. I tried to make the best of it.. (walking around naked, playing B. Spears on full blast, being a slob, etc..) but it was game over once I realized that a family of wasps had set up their nest inside of my a/c unit. Imagine that it's August in Alabama (aka Hell hot) and every time you turned on your a/c, a few wasps flew into your house with the cool air. And the landlord couldn't figure out how to fix it because he was Depends-wearing old. So, what's a independent woman to do? I named the wasps for the time being then moved out the first chance I could. 

Now, I reside with my ultra, mega hot manfriend and it's pretty amazing. He kills spiders and I cook delicious shit. I realized the hard way that I actually love being girly. Now, don't give me that look.. I'm not about to start wearing pants that says Princess across the ass. But, I will happily cook for hours or squeal over crafts without shame. 

The purpose of this blog is sheer boredom and hopefully someone out there will read this (without judging my awful grammar) and relate. Here we go!