Diarrhea: An Opportunity for Multitasking!

I’m sorry. I still haven’t mailed out any awesomeness.

Here’s why:

I’m still getting used to having weekends. That sounds counterintuitive, I know, but it’s really messing with my head to suddenly have a real grown-up job with real grown-up weekends after working retail for the past six years. My schedule just feels . . . funky. Honestly, it feels like I’m getting away with something. Like the Weekend Police are going to knock down my door, waltz in and say, “Excuse us, ma’am. Are you taking a weekend? That is simply not allowed.” Like Brazil. Have you guys seen that movie? It’s a trip. Don’t watch it. I mean, do watch it because it’s weird, but you shouldn’t feel good about it.

I’ve been having nightmares about working retail again. I’m not kidding. I wake up in a cold sweat mumbling about candles. It’s exhausting.

In addition to this new fangled weekend thing, I also just started my final semester of coursework before I can (eep!) start my thesis. You can imagine that I’ve had a lot on my mind, and I’ve just been in a generally weird wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey sort of situation. (Tell me in the comments if you know what that’s from! Without clicking the link, smartass!)

This probably seems sort of whiny, but I really am grateful for the gift of weekends. I just don’t know what to do with them yet. I’ve had such an odd schedule for so long that to have the same one as almost everyone else is really messing up my groove.

With that being said, I found a reprieve from all the madness this weekend and it took the form of diarrhea. Really violent, watery, noisy diarrhea. It hit me on Friday (sorry co-workers, but that’s what I was doing when I wasn’t at my desk. I was shitting big scary shit bombs in the bathroom) and continued until, well, Monday. Really, it wasn’t that bad, it wasn’t a constant flow (I’d be in the hospital) but more of a daily surprise. My thoughts were: When will it hit? How long will I be in the bathroom? Should I bring homework with me when I go?

Yes. The answer, as I found out, should always be YES.

Being stuck on the toilet is a wonderful opportunity for multitasking! On Monday, for example, I did the following things while shitting my face off:

  • Painted my toe nails.
  • Brushed up on Irish history.
  • Read a little James Joyce.
  • Planned a barbecue with Jeff (through the closed bathroom door).
  • Caught up on my Craftgawker.
Woman Poo

See this bitch? She’s happy because she decided to multitask while she has the shits.

Photo Source

See what I mean? Diarrhea can be a very productive situation! I will admit, and freely so, that I am a self-proclaimed Toilet Texter. Listen, there are conversations to be had and plans to be made. I will not let a little hot-molten-lava-poo stop me. Now, don’t confuse me with a Toilet Talker – those are the people who talk on their phone when they walk into a public bathroom, or they just don’t get off the phone when they take a shit.

That’s wrong. Don’t do that.

I write a lot about shit, don’t I? Those of you that sent me your addresses are probably starting to wonder if I’m going to send you a stool sample.

In addition to the poo, I have also been PMSing, which is another reason why this post didn’t get put up on Monday. You may have noticed that it’s Thursday night. Yikes.

I’m really sleepy. Period sleepy. Women know what I’m talking about – I’m going to get my period on Saturday (one of the wonders of the pill, I know right when I’ll get my period) and this whole week has been a snooze fest. I sat down to do reading for my Modern Irish Fiction class and I fell asleep at 8PM, drooled all over the article I had been reading, woke up at 1AM and couldn’t go back to sleep until 3AM. That was just Tuesday.

This past Saturday, when my PMS kicked in, Jeff and I took a nap. A four-hour nap. We were making the bed and didn’t even get the pillows on. We drooled on each other – it was nice. (He isn’t PMSing, he’s just a dude who likes naps with his lady.)

Speaking of periods, I want to bring up a new saying I think us gals should try to make happen: I’m draining the lasagna.

Stay with me.

You know how people still say shit like, “Aunt Flo’s in town” or “I’m on the rag”? I hate that shit. Fuck Aunt Flo, and I don’t use “rags” anymore – I alternate between light tampons or the Softcup depending on my mood.

The way “I’m draining the lasagna” came about was this: on Saturday night, my lady friends and I were cleaning up after dinner. One of them had made a paleo lasagna that was delicious, and also very juicy (in a good way). Before she packed up the lasagna to take it home, she drained the juice into the sink. The other lady friend said, “Are you draining your lasagna?” One thing lead to another and I suggested that it sounded like a way to refer to one’s period.

Hense – I’m draining the lasagna.

Now I could go into details about why this is funny, but it would defeat the purpose. Anyone who has ever really looked up close at a vulva knows what I’m talking about. It isn’t that much unlike a lasagna.

Or you can always just say you’re on your period. That works too.

You’re draining the lasagna – what book do you read?

My Ántonia by Willa Cather. I always feel really cooped up when I’m on my period (especially when I have period diarrhea, which is another beast entirely) and I like to read Cather because she depicts these huge open spaces, and dammit if that woman doesn’t write nature in a way that you can see every single blade of grass. She makes me feel peaceful as fuck.

How’s your period? Do you have diarrhea? Tell me about it in the comments! Take a picture! Let’s make this exciting!

Get Engorged!

Let’s start (end) this Monday off right, shall we?

First things first – I am sorry for not posting last Monday, but some shit went down. My car basically, um, broke. It was a rather time sensitive issue (I start school this week and I commute) that I needed to get figured out pronto. So, I bought a new car. A new used car from CarMax, that is. And I literally bought and paid for it. No car payments for this gal! I gotta say, it feels pretty great. I highly recommend it. Anyone who has ever truly needed to buy a car in a short amount of time knows that there isn’t much else on your mind while you’re looking for a new car. So, I do apologize for no post, but I’m sure you understand.

On another note, those of you who sent me emails concerning the post Amanda Meets You will be getting your item-o-coolness very soon. I will be mailing out stuff this week, so get ready! I might not get to all (five) of you this week, but everything will for sure be mailed out by Friday of next week. No later. Promise! And thanks to everyone who did send me an email! I’m actually really excited about this!

Now to the juicy bits. I thought I would give you guys an idea of just how disgusting I actually am and tell you a little story about what I did on Sunday.

I drank a lot of booze.

I ate some meat.

I’m pretty sure I embarrassed my friend who was totally trying to score with a dude.

I definitely said something along the lines of “I bet her pussy is engorged as fuck!” This was said within range of both her and the guy who was, presumably, making her pussy engorged as fuck.

I say this kind of shit when I’m drunk. Terrible drunk friend. Right here.

So, lets address what’s going on right now and get real deep into this shit: chicks get super into other chicks when they’re drunk. That means we say things like what I said to my poor friend. Then we say things like:

  • Yeah. I’d grab them titties. I’d rub my face all up in them titties.
  • I fingered a chick once.
  • I got fingered by a chick once.
  • Who doesn’t love a good, passionate fingering?
  • I wouldn’t mind a finger in my butt. (You can see a theme developing.)
  • Who haven’t I fucked? (Lot’s of people. For the record.)
  • No. No. You should try my vibrator. Seriously. Come over.
  • Do I have anything on the nape of my neck that you need to lick off?
  • Lick it off. Lick it.
  • Vulvas are fucking magical. If you don’t think they are fucking magical, then you’re a motherfucker. (I really said that last night. To five people. My female friends agreed whole-heartedly. Whole-vulvadly?)

You’re thinking: Amanda! You’re so filthy!

Nuh-uh! Tell me you haven’t said that shit with your chick friends and I’ll tell you . . . well, you’re probably incredibly religious. Or you have some kind of hold-up. That’s fine! I don’t judge!

Except I do. And you should say this stuff with your girlfriends. And you should feel like you can and you shouldn’t let anything hold you back. Women need to be in touch with their bodies and we need to be in touch with other women’s bodies as well. It doesn’t always have to be as filthy and extreme as what I’ve shown here, but we need to be honest with each other and embrace the fact that our bodies are absolutely fascinating.

And pretty fun, too. Who doesn’t enjoy the female form? It’s all squishy and round and bouncy and . . . yup.

See what I mean? Tell me you didn’t get a little blood flow thinking about some hot chick you know?!

So, let’s do some clarification real quick before we wrap this bad boy up: by no means do I think women should be objectified or thought of only as sexual objects. What I want to get across with this post is that women should be comfortable enough around each other, or at least have a tight enough circle of girlfriends that you can say your version of the stuff I said to my friends last night. You’re missing out if you don’t. It’s so amazing and freeing, and I only wish more women felt comfortable enough to get crazy and talk about the magical properties of the vulva and vagina!

Since this did get a little porno-y, I’m going to recommend one of my favorite children’s books just to even things out: Matilda by Roald Dahl is one of those books that features a main bitch who knows how to get shit done. Any Roald Dahl book is really a good choice, but Matilda in particular is quite an invigorating read for the young girl. A strong young woman who doesn’t take any abuse from anyone, but instead uses her wit and intelligence to succeed? Yeah. That’s a great story.

Go on, ladies. Tell your friend you wouldn’t mind licking her pussy. It’s like a high-five with words.

Tell me in the comments about your favorite homoerotic moment with your girlfriends!

Happy Monday, everybody!


Get Positive as Fuck

Or, How to Stay Normal When Your Period is Making You Insane

I may or may not have had a period induced breakdown this weekend.

It all started on Thursday.

Jeff and I decided we wanted to go to the North Fork of the American River because it was hotter than balls outside, and what better day to go play in the river? Correction: what a bad day to have your car break down at the river. After a joyous romp in the cool mountain water, we got to my car and hopped in only to hear a click, click when I turned the key.

I said FUCK more times than you would like to know. And then I cried in a way I haven’t cried in a really long time. I punched my steering wheel, and cried so hard I drooled all over my lap. I cried-drooled, you guys.

After we get the car towed to my grandparents’ house, Jeff went to my mom’s house at which point our dog threw-up on her floor. I was not there for this event, but Jeff told me about it later that evening after I had recovered from my car psychosis and was preparing for a hopefully fun-filled night out on the town (drinking). I had been looking for my favorite pair of underwear for the past five minutes when he sat me down and said, “I wasn’t going to tell you this because you’ve had such a hard day, but I don’t want you to get frustrated looking for the underwear – when Zelda threw-up at your mom’s house, there were little bits of blue and white polka-dotted cloth. I’m sorry babe. She ate your underwear.”

Here’s where it gets hilarious.

At this moment, I had this really intense hyper self aware sensation where I knew, just knew, that it really wasn’t that big of a deal. That it was just underwear, and that the day hadn’t really been that bad – I was just emotional from being on my period. That self aware feeling didn’t prevent me from breaking down again. I went into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub to cry my face off of my face.

Did I mention I was naked? I look like a mole rat when I’m naked. I’m pink, white and Irish, and I look like a mole rat. Or a hairless cat. I have bright pink nipples. I don’t care who knows this. I’m trying to paint a picture.

Jeff comes into the bathroom while I’m cry-drooling-snotting all over myself and comforts the hell out of me and I say, “I’m naked and awkward and snotty!” to which he replies, “I don’t care. I love you. You’ll feel better soon.”

Side note for the ladies: a man who loves you will do this kind of shit. You got that? A man who loves you won’t give a shit that you look like a mole rat who fell in mucus. Remember that when a bag of dicks won’t call you back after a shitty date. Motherfucker ain’t worth it.

Moving on.

We went out. I put on my hot dress. I got drunk. I danced to bad karaoke and stayed out too late.

One more thing: Jeff doesn’t want me to leave out the part where I started crying when he told me that On The Border’s was going to start an hour later than I thought it did. I was crying in the shower and he got in with me in his clothes and everything. Just to give me a hug.

The next day, I was still feeling sort of ho-hum, so I watched the videos below and decided that I should put my favorite feel-good videos all in one place for you to enjoy when you’re having a shit day.

Some of these videos might make you cry if you’re feeling even slightly emotional. Take it from me and just let it happen.

What he tells you in this video is to just be yourself; be creative and express your creativity; love yourself. Dude was all about doing what made him happy and just trying to share that with other people. And that’s a pretty amazing thing to do.

Next up we have a Minecraft video which might be lost on some of you folks who don’t play Minecraft. But it’s still awesome. To my mom (because I know you’re reading this) next time you come over, I’ll explain Minecraft. You still won’t get it, but that’s ok. We’ll bond.

I like this video because it’s all about people coming together and doing something they love. It’s a massive nerd-out! What’s not to love?! Nerds are awesome and I’ll tell you why: they fully embrace what they love without any shame or hesitation. That sounds like a great life to me.

If you haven’t seen this video, prepare to cry your face off in a good way. If you don’t want children, it will fool you into thinking you want children. Just embrace everything this video makes you feel or you’ll get a weird sweaty feeling from resisting happiness.

Now wasn’t that grand?

I don’t know what else to say about this video other than it has Weezer and The Muppets together in one place, and that my love for both is like the fiery hot intensity of a thousand suns.

I hope you feel better if you were feeling sad. And I hope you feel even happier if you were feeling happy. And I hope you’re feeling happy if you were just feeling so-so.

Still not convinced? Check out these YouTube channels and prepare to be so stoked about life you’ll just fall asleep because your body can’t handle the overload of awesome.

Rhett & Link

Internet Killed Television

Wheezy Waiter

Jenna Marbles

Toby Games

Got any positive videos you would like to share with the class? Put them in the comments!

And the next time you’re feeling not 100%, excuse yourself from the room and say, “Excuse me, I need to go and get positive as fuck,” because life is too short to not get positive as fuck. 

What book gets me positive as fuck? Harry Potter. There. I said it. Make fun of me all you want, muggles. I’m happy.

Sacramento, California – It Sucks

I hate Sacramento. OK, maybe this is because I got to spend a relaxing week in Santa Cruz, but still. I’m not happy about my return home y’all.

Seriously – when you enter Sacramento there should by a sign that says, “If You Lived Here, You’d be Miserable by Now.”

My downstairs neighbors are adolescent meth users.

Everyone has allergies.

People are always sweaty because there is a constant, dry heat from the end of May to the end of September.

Everyone drives like shit. And I can say that because I have been on a few road trips and I swear to god, people actually know how to merge the moment you make it out of Sacramento. It’s like being freed from an enchantment of bad driving.

The level of unhappiness amongst Sacramentans is through the roof.

Actually, wealthy people are usually pretty happy here. That’s because they can afford big houses sans neighbors, great allergy meds, a really nice pool and a driver so they don’t have to worry about the traffic – they can just hire someone else to do it for them.

What is awesome about coming home from Santa Cruz? Well I got a sweet job that allows me to (gulp) leave my job at the mall.

I made this face when they told me:

ermahgerd dog

The job is the tennis ball. It’s a metaphor.

This means I will have nights and weekends and a job that I truly enjoy doing. But I think the picture says it all.

We also got a dog:

Rescue Dog

Scarlett Divine – Mistress of the Underworld (Rapist Killer)

For anyone who is wondering: we have her in a crate because her previous owner trained her that way and it makes her a little more chill in her new environment. We want her out of the crate and solving crime throughout Sacramento as soon as possible, but it’s all about baby steps.

Also, apologies for not posting yesterday. I had to go to the doctor and get put on some meds and then I slept for 14 hours. Any post I would have produced in my brief moments of lucidity would have been not just awful, but unintelligible. So, really what I should say is, you’re welcome.

And what about books, Amanda?

Well, to be quite honest, I’m not reading any fucking books right now. Between being sick and taking care of the new dog I feel like my brain is going to melt out of my head. I’m serious – last night I watched three hours of TobyGames on Youtube. My brain is not in the mood for reading. Shit happens, you guys.

And if I had to pick a book to read it sure as shit wouldn’t be this one:

Catching Fire Book

Awarded Best Sequel in the World by No One.

I tried reading this. I really did. It’s the only book I’ve ever gotten more than halfway through and then quit. Why did I do this? Because it’s the first book all over again. Here’s the deal – it starts off all original and I was all, “Shit Katniss, how you gonna get out of this, girl?” And then I was all, “Oh, because you’ll just go back in the arena and do the first book over again.” I would have given a heads-up about spoilers, but it isn’t a spoiler because if you’ve read the first book it already happened. So, I gave up on the series, and listen, I’ve had about a million people tell me I need to finish reading the damn thing and I’m just not going to do it. You fucked up, Suzanne Collins. You have fucked up.

And to be clear, I still stand by the fact that even though I think Catching Fire is shitty, if you love it and it gets you reading, well that’s awesome. Keep on reading and read what you want. I’m just a bitch with an opinion.

Bet you have a book you hate! Tell me about it in the comments and we can have a healthy discussion about terrible reads!

Santa Cruz on Puberty

Ok, this post is a day early, but I was too excited to wait until Monday.

Dude. Santa Cruz is rad.

You want to know what else is rad? Staying in a beach house with a view of the ocean for free.

Don’t believe me? Here’s a picture of what I get to look at while I’m writing this up for you beautiful people:

Santa Cruz | Disc Golf

Jeff being one of those hot dudes that hangs out on the beach.

Holy shit, right?

I wish you could be here to experience the glory that is this vacation.

The story:

Jeff’s parents are really good friends with the woman who owns this house. Once a year, they get to come here and stay for a week or two. Why so lucky? Their friend is just really fucking awesome. That’s why. We’re here this week just because someone in the world is awesome. I don’t know if that inspires you, but it inspires the hell out of me.

So, thanks to the woman I don’t know who is letting us stay in her house. She’s the shit.

The last time I was in Santa Cruz I was fourteen, chubby and super awkward. I was in the period of adolescence where one wears a baggy sweater year round to hide the body that they believe is a hideous wreck when really it’s just a normal pubescent bod. I remember hanging out on the boardwalk, trying to stand in the shade so as to not sunburn, not going swimming at all (even though I really wanted to) and trying really hard to flirt with a boy my age who was visiting from Australia. In my mind, we were going to fall madly in love, become pen pals (how romantic) and I would move to Australia to live with him in his family’s mansion.

We never even spoke to each other. I think I asked him if he wanted a piece of taffy and then my weird little fourteen year-old brain was like, “I’m gonna run with this and give you a totally unrealistic fantasy for you to pine over for the next two days,” which pretty accurately describes most of my puberty.

With all that being said, I had not so fond memories of Santa Cruz and was really stoked to come here now that I’m older and, for the most part, a lot less awkward.

For the record, I don’t think I’m any less awkward than I was at fourteen, I think I’ve just gotten used to and accepted my eccentricities which allows me to function better in public.

So, this isn’t really that sassy of a blog post because I’m feeling all grateful and happy and shit.


But don’t worry, by next Monday I’ll be a huge crazy bitch again.

Book for Puberty

I think I read Teen Angst? Naaah . . . A Quasi-autobiography cover to cover about 5 times when I was fifteen. Ned Vizzini (who, holy shit! is still writing awesome stuff. I just discovered this while getting the link to his website. I do believe my love for Ned has thus been rekindled) held my hand through the awkward years. I even used to write him emails which he would always promptly respond too. I also had a pretty big idol-crush on him. My thoughts were, “Wow. He writes. So do I. We are meant to be.”

You may know him from the book It’s Kind of a Funny Story that was turned into a film with that little person related to Julia Roberts. The book, It’s Kind of a Funny Story along with Be More Chill were his follow up books to Teen Angst and they were just as good.

Actually, now that I think about it, Ned is so awesome that he sent me a signed book once – he did a lot of freebie stuff on his website. He had a thing set up where you could pick the free thing you wanted and write down how you wanted him to inscribe it. So my smart ass was like, “write something about how awesome I am.” So, he did! I wish I had the book with me so I could get a picture, but it says, “To Amanda – you’re awesome. And I didn’t even put “awesome” in quotes like a dick.”

Tell me about your pubescent years and the books you read in the comments! Nothing like a telling a story that makes everyone feel awkward.



Girls Poop 2: Shitting in Nature

This weekend, Jeff and I went backpacking into Desolation Wilderness.

Here are some features of the trip at a glance:

  • 5 mile uphill hike to the campsite. 5 mile downhill hike back.
  • Secluded lake where we could get freaky in nature if we felt so inclined (hint: we did feel so inclined).
  • Back breaking tent camping, i.e. we only brought one sleeping bag and an inflatable mat that we found out no longer inflated only after we had completed our three-hour hike into camp. Hooray.
  • Really scary crotch smells.
  • Nature shits.

Let me say one thing about this post before you go any further: I use the word “shit” a lot. I could have used “poop” or “crap” or “dump” or any other word that describes a bowel movement, but I chose “shit” because it has a certain sort of pizzazz that really pinpoints the feeling I’m going for.

Now, for those of you who aren’t familiar with shitting in nature, it’s quite a process. First, you have to find a spot far enough away from the camp so that you, literally, aren’t shitting where you eat. Then, when you do find a spot, you have to dig a hole at least six inches deep, shit into said hole and use biodegradable toilet paper. IF you don’t have biodegradable toilet paper, you have to take your shitty toilet paper and put it into a paper bag and cart it around with you for the rest of the trip because, and I don’t know if you knew this or not, there isn’t really any trash pick-up in Desolation Wilderness.

This is a good process. It keeps the Eldorado National Forest beautiful and clean, and it’s really not that hard to do. Inconvenient? Slightly. Difficult? No way. There is a problem with the whole notion of having to travel to shit, however, and it’s that sometimes you just don’t have enough time to get to where you’re going.

Let me illustrate with a story, shall I?

Jeff and I were already a little over halfway done with our hike when I started to get the shit-sweats. This is when you don’t have to poop right then, but you know it’s going to be a rager when you do. I gave Jeff the heads up, with the thought that I would be able to make it to camp, but just in case to “Please, please help me shit in nature.” Up until that point in my life, I had never shat in nature, so I was a little nervous about the whole process. There are so many fantastical mountain creatures that I imagine would love to bite my asshole while I’m squatting over a rock releasing my bowels. There is also the inherent fear that women have of something being/getting in your vagina without your knowing it, so that came into play, too. I’m getting chills just thinking about it.

Then, suddenly, it happened. I felt absolutely sure that I was going to shit my pants. I threw my pack off, yelled at Jeff “Toilet paper, toilet paper!” and ran as far as I could in the short amount of time my body had given me – and there I was, shitting on a rock with beautiful Lake Tahoe behind me, sweating and moaning into my hands.

It is funny, so go ahead and laugh.

After a few moments alone with my thoughts, I told Jeff to come over and hand me the toilet paper, but “Dear God don’t look at the shit-baby I created.”

But then we both looked at it anyway.

I felt sort of proud.

I created . . . that?

I said that it was, “At least six cupcakes worth of shit.” Then we high-fived (with my clean hand) and marched on for another hour and a half to our campsite.

So, what did I learn from this adventure? Well, I learned that a man who loves you will stand by your side while you shit your face off and congratulate you after you’ve survived the scariest nature shit of your life. I learned that scenic shits are the best shits. And most importantly, I learned that if you do backpack up a mountain for an hour and a half without stopping, and you’ve never done said activity before in your life, your body will react in some exciting, new way, and that way will probably be something close to explosive diarrhea.

But what book did you read while you were camping, Amanda? Who gives a shit about your shit?

I started reading a romance novel (eek!) but it’s really pretty damn good. I didn’t think I would ever enjoy a romance novel, but Diana Gabaldon really has it together with Outlander. So far, the protagonist is a rockin’ babe who doesn’t allow herself to be bossed around by anyone, even after she is transported back to the 18th century from 1945 . . . after touching a magical boulder? What? I know, I know, sounds stupid, but it isn’t!

I’ll let you know what happens when I finish the book, but apparently it’s a series and a really great one at that. The girl who rang me up at Barnes and Noble got all hot and bothered just from seeing the book on the counter and couldn’t shut up about it. I’ve never heard any of the people at Barnes and Noble get that excited about a book. They usually just tell you about how the book they are writing will be better than any of the books you could buy in the store.

But now, my friends I must leave you. I’m going to go take a shit on the toilet. And I’m bringing Outlander with me.

Let me know your crazy shit stories in the comments! Sharing is caring!

How to be Neurotic

After How to be Inappropriate, I realized that I have a lot of How To advice that I can offer. Some of the How To ideas that I have played around with are:

  • How to fart like a lady.
  • How to make fun of horrible people without them realizing it.
  • How to compliment someone and accidentally make it seem like an insult.
  • How to have awkward sex.
  • How to change a tampon in front of your significant other.
  • Guest post from Jeff: How to watch your significant other change their tampon.
  • How to have anal sex  – which is a post that might actually come to fruition pretty soon. There’s a lot of -ahem- shit that needs to be said about anal sex that the ladies don’t know and should know if they want to put a penis in their butt. I’m talking about pornos that make things unrealistic, son.

The list goes on.

However, I decided to go with How to be Neurotic because I’m really fucking good at it. That’s it. That’s my reason. I hope you like it. And whether you do or not, I will sit here waiting for validation until I get it. Then when I get validation, I will still think that you were just being nice to spare my feelings and wonder what you really think of me.

That was step one, folks.

Here we go – a list of the things that should be on the neurotic (female) mind during various activities.

During Sex

Did I just fart?

Did he just fart?

I’m gonna poop.

I have to pee?

Shit. I queefed.

I’m pregnant. I can tell.

Is the front door locked?

If we ever leave the front door unlocked that will be the one time someone shows up to rob us. They will rape me and kill Jeff and I will have to spend years learning karate to avenge him.

Yeast infection?

What time is it? I need to wake up at seven.

Where’s the cat?

While Cooking

How much do I like this shirt? Enough to wear an apron? I’ll just go for it.

Fuck. My shirt.

Is this bad? I can’t tell. I’ll just make it into soup.

Will my soup make everyone sick?

Was I supposed to put the flour in first?

Will Jeff like this?

If he doesn’t like it, will he stop loving me?

Does he like any of my food?

He really hates all of my food but keeps it a secret because he loves me so much.


Is that a hair?

While Shopping

I’m fat.

I wish I was fatter so I could fit into this.

My boobs are too big.

Nope, they’re too small.

The person who tried this on before me had ringworm, didn’t they?

Yeast infection?

I have back fat.

I have armpit fat.

I’m not the problem! Clothes are the problem!

Nope. I’m the problem.

I’m going to the thrift store.

Body lice?


If you want to read a book about a girl who does her best to handle the various neurotic episodes that fill the lives of young girls entering womanhood, then read I Capture The Castle by Dodie Smith. It’s one of my favorite books of all time. If you have a female in your life of any age, get her this book! The main character is a wonderful role model for women everywhere and the book is filled with some of the better beautiful prose in this world.

Let me know what you think of this post in the comments!

Go on, validate me.

How to be Inappropriate


Sometimes I have a problem with tact. For example, a few weekends ago at Jeff’s little brother’s girlfriend’s graduation party (meant to be said in one breath) I said the following things to Jeff’s little brother’s girlfriend’s father under the influence of a large portion of a bottle of tequila:

  • Don’t tempt me, son. I’ll whip these titties out.
  • My bra unhooks from the front, so we can get this party started real quick.
  • You gave my boyfriend chewing tobacco?! You sick son-of-a-bitch.
  • I’ll kill you.

Note that most of my comments are about my breasts. This was due to the fact that I was wearing my summer-time racer back super push-up bra that knocks my tits more or less to the sky, and when I consume any alcohol in said bra I tend to bring most of the attention in the room to my voluminous breasts because when I don’t have that bra on, I have normal – borderline – B-cups. Also note that the comments were made in a threatening context. I was threatening to release my breasts from their lacy cage as a form of punishment. This was not a “hey hot old dude with a beer gut . . . you wanna?” situation.

Yesterday, when trying to convince Jeff to go on a walk with me, which he hates doing, he said, “I don’t want to walk unless there is a destination,” to which I replied “Our destination is fitness.” And then I laughed loud and impressively at my own clever joke.

Today, my grandma had a real pill for a nurse. The woman was clearly miserable in her profession which, leaving all obvious issues of the economy out of it, I have little or no sympathy for. If you hate what you are doing then don’t do it. Find another job. Answer phones from 9-5, work in a gas station, sell homemade sex toys, I don’t care. Just don’t be a nurse if you hate people. It’s not that hard to not be a nurse. In fact, it’s much harder to be a nurse than it is to not be a nurse, so I really don’t see what the problem is. The long and short of it is that this woman was a wretched bitch and I flipped her off behind her back and made a duck-face at her when she left the room. My grandma looked at me and said, “Child” because that’s what she calls me, especially when she is shocked by something I’ve done.

Last week, a woman came into the candle store and I nuzzled right up her asshole like a good little salesperson (because even though I don’t like working in a candle store I’m working on changing that, and I am determined to be nice to people unless they are shitty to me and then it’s on) and said, “So what brings you in today?” and because she was a bitch she said, “The sale. Obviously.” Now, let me make this picture perfectly clear for you: we are having a semi-annual sale. This means big white and red sale signs. It also means that we get people in the store who aren’t our traditional demographic and thus people we might not jibe with. So, we get a lot of people who, when we ask them what brings them in, respond in what they think is a really cute and original way by saying, “The sale” and then they chuckle. Har har. Because of all this, by the time I greeted this woman – who really was just blatantly rude in that her rudeness was as of yet unprovoked on my part – I was in no mood. So, I said, “Well what part of the sale brings you in? It’s a big sale. There’s lots to it.”

“The seventy-five percent off sign is what brought me in, ok?”

“Well, if you like the seventy-five percent off sign we have it right over there, but I’m afraid it isn’t for sale.”


How to be Inappropriate

What I’m trying to say here is I’ve got a mouth on me. When I was really young, my grandmother used to tell me to keep my mouth shut or I was going to get my ass kicked by a girl bigger than me. My mom still tells me to keep my mouth shut and Jeff shushes me in public constantly. Yet, do I learn? No. Well, I know I should keep my mouth shut but I don’t apply the method. It’s just not for me.

By now you’re asking yourself, “Amanda, how can I publicly embarrass myself on a daily basis just like you?” It’s easy, friends!

Step one: say what you think everyone else is thinking but what no one wants to say out loud. For example, last night my friend and I were at a country bar watching Jeff dj. Said country bar has a mechanical bull that costs $5 to ride, yet sadly this is not an equal opportunity bull. You see, the asshole running the bull favored big breasted women as he was able to make the bull “shimmy” in way that caused much quivering of the females’ breasts, at which point he liked to pause and say, “What time is it? It’s boob shaking time!” and he posed other serious philosophical questions to the audience like, “Are they real or fake?” Firstly, a much catchier thing to say than “boob shaking time” would be “titty time” but we aren’t discussing poetry. After our first dose of “boob shaking time,” I turned to my friend and said, “I would love to see that sack of shit get up there, masturbate until his teeny tiny little penis was as rock hard as it could get, then shake it for the audience. WHIP OUT YOUR BALLS, ASSHOLE. SHAKE ‘EM MUTHAFUCKA!”

I’m almost positive those were my exact words. There were several women in the general area who shared my sentiment.

The point is, you can say what you know (or think) everyone else is thinking but doesn’t want to say out loud and break the tension, taking the focus away from said asshole and on to something much funnier. (This is not to say that objectification of either sex is appropriate, but that using someone’s own nasty methods against them in order to illustrate the nastiness of their actions can sometimes be very effective).

Step two: Have no shame. Refer to the above “Don’t tempt me, son. I’ll whip these titties out.” Usually, having no shame in the right environment can lead to a great time.

Step three: Own it. You want to be the crazy person in the room? Then you have to go balls to the wall. Don’t pause, don’t apologize, just own it. Otherwise you’re the person who’s on the fence. Remember, if you are always unpredictable people can predict that you will be unpredictable which makes people happy because they have you pegged as the “unpredictable” one.

(Appropriate) Book Recommendation

The Chronology of Water by Lidia Yuknavitch is a book that taught me more about how to be myself. Yuknavitch writes about what it took to become comfortable with herself and her body. This book is difficult to comment on because it will always be about so much more than what anyone can say it’s about. The book is ineffable and must be read to be understood. Sorry to get all literary up in here, but it’s true. The book is awesome in the true sense of the word and I recommend it to all.

Your assignment this week? Read The Chronology of Water and say something terribly inappropriate in public. Loudly.

Question for you guys:

I’m thinking of posting one day a week and I’m wondering what day of the week you guys would like a post most of all? I’m thinking Mondays would be nice since the day is usually a little lame by nature, and it would be a nice pick-me-up for me and, hopefully, for you guys too.

Tell me your thoughts in the comments!

Versatile Blogger Award

I was recently nominated for the Versatile Blogger Award by Write, Aubrey, Write and would like to thank her oodles of bunches for the nomination.

According to the rules of said award, I now have a duty to do the following:

  •  Thank the person who gave you this award. That’s common courtesy.
  •  Include a link to their blog. That’s also common courtesy — if you can figure out how to do it.
  •  Next, select 15 blogs/bloggers that you’ve recently discovered or follow regularly. ( I would add, pick blogs or bloggers that are excellent!)
  •  Nominate those 15 bloggers for the Versatile Blogger Award — you might include a link to this site.
  •  Finally, tell the person who nominated you 7 things about yourself.

“Thank you” – CHECK

Link to blog – CHECK

15 Blogs I follow regularly (in no particular order)

1. Of course, Write, Aubrey, Write is one of those blogs.

2. Eggton

3. Bailey Powell

4. Shut Up Dad

5. Tor/Forge (I’m a nerd. This has been established.)

6. Bad Books, Good Times (One of my new favorites. HILARIOUS.)

7. What Jane Read Next

8. The Better Man Project

9. Dani Loebs

10. Work Home Balance

11. Feminist Philosophers

12. Broadside

13. Subtlekate

14. Cuter Than E.coli

15. Drew’s Soapbox 

And, I don’t know if this is allowed in the rules or not, but I am going to tell Write, Aubrey, Write seven things about myself RIGHT EFFING NOW:

1. I quit drinking coffee in March and now only drink one cup of chai a day.

2. My cat is named Hermione after the Harry Potter books.

3. I bought a dress this weekend that is really, really snug and I like to imagine makes me look like Joan from Mad Men.

4. I own all the Harry Potter books in hardcover and paperback.

5. Jellyfish scare the shit out of me.

6. Ex-nail biter. Right here.

7. I think pornos are funny.

8. BONUS! I’m “apprenticing” at an ad agency right now, and I made my email signature say, “Amanda Muncill: Purveyor of Awesome” and I’m waiting to see how long it takes someone to notice.

I was also recently nominated for the Liebster Award by What Jane Read Next! All this love, you guys! I don’t know what to do with myself and my humble little blog! The best part about all of this? We all support each other! All the blogs I follow also follow me and we all write to each other as much as we can – it’s a lot more time consuming than one might think – and we somehow still have time on top of all of that to show appreciation for one another. I mean, how neat is that? It’s pretty neat! Watch this video to understand why what I just did there is really funny:

And, on that note, I leave you until next time.

By the way, I finished In Cold Blood, which was amazing, and I’ve stopped reading Lonesome Dove for now only because I’m feeling more fantastical than western, which is why I’m finally reading American Gods instead. So far I’ve gotten to the man-eating-vagina-part which is a great way to start any Monday.


Thought I would share a wonderful spam comment I got recently:

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It’s like Shakespeare is in the room, isn’t it?

It reminds me of this: