Kitty Deschanel

A special thank you to Shinxy at Vacuous Ramblings for providing a guest post today. I love the drawings she does for each of her posts. The drawing below is titled No Shoes . Without further ado, here is the one and only Shinxy: Yes people, this is as exciting as my life gets. I got to spend eight or nine hours in the car to see my psychiatrist. We got into Melbourne an hour and a half early, so we went shopping. Sadly I couldn't spend much money because I've spent about half my pay this cycle on a certain jobless hobo of mine. I went to Borders first. I finally found the Philosophy section.  It was looking pretty grim until I looked at the bottom shelf. Three Schopenhauer books! I was in pessimistic heaven. I found four books in total that I felt that I needed, but like I said, I had a budget. I decided on one Schopenhauer book and another on common logical fallacies (I love logic, but if I get too far in I get a little confused with all the Latin terms, so bas

Thank you, thank you to Tanya at A Taste of T for providing this guest post. Quick tidbit: She has the cutest little dog with the cutest  little name, Bowser!  Tanya, you have strengthened my resolve to never, ever set foot inside a gym. Weird Day at the Gym By Tanya Munoz I’m going to tell you a tale about my day at the gym.  It started a little something like this… I suspect choosing the locker right next to a girl, when there's a million other lockers open, is like choosing the urinal right next to the guy peeing.    Cause this morning the empty locker room was anyone's choice.    You could choose any section to get dressed and be naked...and this grandma chose RIGHT NEXT TO ME.     I mean, there are benches and benches, lockers and lockers and lockers and she chose locker 24...mine was 23.    Then she asked if I could move my gym bag on the bench...there were a million other benches...empty benches.    Well, since she was so attracted to me, I decided

As previously mentioned in a funny, albeit frustrating post , Sexy Nerd recently smoked us a chicken. Even after our smoked turkey fiasco (dinner at 10 pm, anyone?), we're still on two different pages when it comes to how something like this should be done. Me: So, how long until the chicken's ready? SN: I dunno. Around dinnertime, probably. Me: Well, how much does the chicken weigh? SN: I didn't weigh it. Me: Yeah, but the weight is listed on the packaging. SN: Why does that matter? Me: You can use the weight to estimate how long it will take to smoke. SN: I'll just use the meat thermometer. ME: *dies a little on the inside*  King of the Grill doesn't necessarily translate to King of the Smoker

Earlier at work, we were sitting around talking about someone who had recently passed away. Although it was sad and I feel terrible for the people who were close to him, I had never met the person and did not feel compelled to cry, yet sat there rubbing my eye and rapidly blinking throughout the entire, hour-long conversation. The two other women involved in the conversation probably thought Don't sit there trying to fake cry! You're pathetic! but I was only doing it because there was something in my eye. It was driving me CRAZY, but I couldn't very well get up and leave to look in the mirror while someone was pouring their grieving heart out. So, I sat there politely, squinting and nonchalantly closing one eye periodically, in a sympathetic sort of wink, until I was alone. Finally , I thought, inspecting my eye in the mirror.  It turned out that the thing irritating my eye is GROWING FROM MY EYELID! What the heck do I do now? According to Dr. Google, (my primary care phys