How to move like a normal person.

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When you hear the word, "moving" do your eyes instantly get bloodshot? Does your heart race and all of a sudden, you automatically begin to bite your nails to little stubbies? I'd even bet that you stock up on extra drugs just to get through "The Move".

Yup. Been there...12 times.

We are what you call, veteran movers here, people. In terms of moving, we have literally been around the block.

So I'm going to share my abundance and wealth of knowledge here. I give you:

How To Move Like A (Relatively) Normal Person

1. When reserving a rental truck, never check how much stuff you have beforehand to make sure it will fit. Ain't nobody got time for dat! Believe me, you will need to spend your time more wisely like planning on when you are going to put that flaming bag of poo on your annoying neighbor's doorstep as you last "goodbye". Another example would be debating whether Punjab's Thai is going to really give you a case of the violent shiz this time or only some little squirts because, let's be real, you've already packed away all of your dishes. P.S. It's the violent shiz this time...

And BONUS! Because your moving truck is too small to fit all of your crap junk freakin shizload of useless garbage loving belongings, you finally have an excuse to throw away that hideous picture "the best man" gave you for your wedding of the dogs playing poker. It just won't fit, honey...*tsk*I'm sorry.


2. Don't even bother trying to plan your move around Aunt Flow. Let me tell you, if there is anything I have learned from Aunt Flow, it's that she is one crazy beast. She will find you, and she will kill your baby box. Aaaaand it will be your heaviest flow aaaaaaaand it will feel like you are being turned inside out aaaaaaand you won't bring enough tampons.

And because you will be on your period during your move, this brings us to number three.


3. You can always trust your neighborhood friendly landlord. So when they say that all you need to do is switch the utilities over to your name and every thing will be peaches and sunshine and unicorns farting rainbows, they probably mean it.

Well, except for the gas.

Minor detail, I know. We almost didn't even notice it was off for 4 days because it's not like our heat was powered by gas, and it wasn't like our oven/stove was a gas range and it wasn't like our water heater was gas or anything.

No, no, no, no, no, no, you see, I wanted to heat up bowls of water in a microwave for 15 minutes, 5 times each just so I could get enough water to wash my face and bum (face first, bum later...). *Remember, The Red Devil is still in your belly and Punjab's Thai is making a gracious exit. Are we having fun yet?*


4. You can always rely on the rental truck company to give you options that you will be 100% okay with.
Out of all the mother loving trucks they have, they'll give you the best option.  

For 14 hours, people...14. hours.

I only use this picture as an example of what the cab looked like. Just replace the camping chair with a bunch of pillows and blankets and replace the "legroom" with a diaper bag, DVD player, and a backpack filled with  clothes.

Just make sure you duck when you see a police man but other than that, it's like sleeping in the sweet, sweet arms of Hugh Jackman while listening to the soft hum of the Liam Neeson-like engine.

Except, just replace Hugh Jackman with Steve Buscemi and Liam Neeson with Gilbert Gottfried but, pffft, tomato-tomatto!


5. Communication is your friend. You would not want to end up traveling for 14 hours through a deadly snow storm only to have your neighborhood friendly landlord tell you that although it's 4:45, he wants to go home at 5:30 so you're going to have to get a hotel. Oh what's that? You're in town now? Oh your husband starts work tomorrow at 8:00 AM? Oh you've got a screaming two year-old? Something about Punjab and an evil case of the mensies?

Oh well...too darn bad....
.
.
.
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Because you wouldn't want that totally hypothetical scenario to happen.



So there you go! With my five tips, your move is going to be awesome. It's going to be up there with birthing your firstborn child and trying El Pollo Loco's macaroni n' cheese for the first time.  Moving doesn't have to be stressful. Wait, no....it does. It's totally stressful.

Ahhh, it's nice to be home.

Monday, Monday: A gimpse into my week

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Here it goes:

1/ Etsy is friggin going insane right now. My little shop is such a hussy, gettin' around. I think it has something to do with Christmas (eff Thanksgiving. Nobody seems to care about you.) I used to feel so bad about ignoring Jack while I answer emails, design vinyl, cut, weed, tape, and ship the vinyl but now I realize that I am giving my child the gift of independence. Baahhht, I still feel bad that Jack doesn't have a sibling to smother. Damn you, unemployment! Hurry up and get here so my womb can bring forth children!

2/ Speaking of smother, this week I get to watch Baby E (Jack's cousin). Last week it was really fun to see how Jack would react to a cute little crier/pooper/sleeper/time-taker-upper in the house. Surprisingly, he did really well. His favorite thing to do was shove his toys in his face which to him was probably a sign of endearment. Or maybe it was to one-up Baby E and show him whose really boss around here (i.e. to Jack that means whoever has the most toys and/or who can chew up the most cheese stick and form a bolus of soggy cheese and saliva, then spit in on the counter).

3/ Recently I was contacted by a local antique shop to see if I wanted to sell vinyl in her shop. Of course, I was in. I mean, we've got to have a Christmas someway and let me tell you, kids toys are not cheap! So I have been working on samples to bring to her shop. My goal is to go tomorrow but obviously that's not happening since I value my sleep over anything else, even food. Maybe Tuesday?

4/ So apparently even though you graduate, that doesn't mean you are exempt from homework assignments. One of my old professors contacted me and asked if I would speak at the Professional Development Conference about lockout/tagout programs. You guys, the other people who are speaking there have doctorate degrees and are safety managers at major companies like 3M (Scotch tape, anyone?) as well as certified industrial hygienists and the American Industrial Hygiene Association Director of Government Affairs!

Oh hai, I'm just a college graduate with 4 months of experience under my belt. Don't mind me, talking to safety professionals with years of experience.

My professor figured that since my entire internship was LOTO, I would be a good fit. You guys!

YOU GUYS!

It's both awesome and terrifying (Yes, like Santa). 

I have to talk for 50 minutes. That's like, 10x longer than the longest talk I've given in church and the might even ask questions at the end.

*gulp*

 Plus, they probably want me to wash my hair and wear a skirt to which I'll have to shave my legs and you know me, if you get me to shave my legs for you, we are going beyond a favor here.

So there ya go. My week is spoken for.

Who thinks up of this random shiz? I'd like to personally thank him/her.

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Pretty much my favorite song right now and I almost know all the words, so......

Flashback Friday: The Tale of My Batshiz Crazy Rabbit

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When I was in kindergarten, we were learning about all the letters of the alphabet. On each day, we focused on a specific letter and if we wanted, we could bring a show-and-tell item that corresponding to the letter.

Well, lucky for my class, "R" day was coming up and I just so happened to have received a rabbit for my birthday.

You see, my birthday is on April 21st and my sister's is on the 22nd which was SUPER convenient for my parents because basically whatever they were planning on getting my sister for her birthday, I got the same thing. Oh don't worry that there was an 8 year gap between us. A rabbit that was an age-appropriate gift for a 12-year old, probably isn't for a 5-year old pet owner as I was.

Of course, I named the rabbit "Thumper" like any respectable 5-year old would do. Let's just say my creativity hadn't exactly bloomed yet, mmmkay?

Thumper was an awesome grey bunny but he was pretty much fudgin' crazy! Whenever we would hold him, he would rip into our arm-flesh and leave gashes. Okay, my 5-year old mind may have exaggerated that a bit but you catch my drift.

The brilliant resolution to this issue was to wear my thick winter coat whenever I held Thumper so that whenever he would go all Mrs. Poole on us, we wouldn't feel a thing.

So on the day that Thumper was to make his debut to my kindergarten class, I was super nervous. I was an unnaturally shy kid. If the teacher even looked at me with any hint of a stink eye, I would bawl. However, growing up with overactive tear ducts did teach me to hide and subside my emotions which explains my heartless demeanor. 

As we were finishing up a story, my dad walked into the classroom with a box that obviously contained Thumper. The thing is that you'd think "Hmm, rabbits are small = small box".

No. Oh, no! I had to have gotten my class from at least one of my parents and it's evident as to whom. My dad came in with the biggest mother freakin' box he could find. Yes, my 2 lb. rabbit was contained in a box that stretched his whole arm-length. 

As the teacher explained why a mysterious man was walking into a kindergarten class, holding a box, all you could hear was the frantic scratch of Thumper trying to find traction.

Shhrk shhhrk shhhrk!

I kid you not, it was like Thumper was going to burst through the box, all Alien's style, with fangs bared.

Thumper!

I knew the routine. I went to grab my protective 1980's puff-coat.

As I walk over to the coat rack, my teacher said, "Oh, Jessica...It's not time to go!"

Now, I know that I must have been a slow child, but just how slow was I? Did my teacher honestly think that I reasoned, "Welp, my dad just showed up with a rabbit in a box....See ya!"? I mean, c'mon lady. I wasn't that slow.

I awkwardly explained to her that in order to keep my arms beautiful so that I could one day marry, I had to wear a coat while holding Thumper.

Of course, my fellow classmates were thrilled to each take turns petting my batshiz crazy rabbit. This. This is quality education, people. You're welcome 'Mmerica.

After a while, Thumper went on to live the rest of his life on a peaceful farm. Oh you think he got killed? No, no. He actually went to a farm. Right, mom & dad?

Right?

The time where I get to play Pintester for a while.

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I have a bone to pick with the pinner who originally pinned this:

I know that I'm pretty much abnormal and such but when I pin something, I remember it and actually try it. I know, crazy idea.

So when I saw this pin, I was all, "Oh heck yes! I don't want to take time to butter my toast. And while I'm at it, my arm kind of hurts from scrolling through Pinterest in the first place, forget ANY type of flipping action, here."

So I documented my quest .

First, my ingredients.

Gettin' all cozy in the toaster and heck  yes, I'm gonna use shredded cheese,  peeps.

Cooking...Do you see something wrong with the picture?

No? Maybe now that there is a little more noticeable smoke coming out? 

You know how toasters "pop"?  Hoooney...kiiiiiiidds....dinner!

Just pick off the dog fur and dust then scrape off the cancer-charcoal and baby, you've got yourself a meal! I don't know about you, but I always take it personally when pins fail. I'm all, "You don't break me, Pinterest! I'm not defined by your socially accepted pins that people blindly pin without testing them!"

Then I go cry in the shower with the water pouring over my head because you just know that out there, somewhere, the Original Pinner is maniacally laughing, thinking, "Oh you've got them now, you sly dog, you. Just you wait, the repins will pour in and you can relish in the idea that hundreds of pinners will look like fools, FOOLS, for pinning an idea that didn't work."

Curse you, Original Pinner and original pinners everywhere that pin crappy things!

This is a story of my bangs

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My bangs irk me. What do you do with them?! I do love them but then sometimes I want to just shave them off. Then again, I always want to shave my hair off, so no surprises there. This morning, when I stepped on the scale, I thought, "Drats! It's probably because I have my coat on." then after I take that off and weigh myself again I think, "Okay, what else can I lose? I don't need my hair, right?! I could shave that off and lose some more weight."

But enough about my deeply disturbed body image perception, we're talking about bangs, man.

So I thought I could grow them out to something like this:

For a while, I could totally part my hair down the middle and feel like I was back in the 70's. 

But most of the time, my hair looked like this:

Yes, they were way too long and I couldn't style them and I ended up looking like Kristin Stewart. Gaaaa, Kristin, stop being so bad at everything! You're bad at acting, relationships, and now add "bangs" to your resume.

I decided  that I needed to take the fate of my bangs into my own hands. I was going to do a tutorial on how to cut your bangs to look amazing but then I realized that all of the bathrooms looked really sad and I didn't want to take the time to set up a camera. No worries, though. I totally still did the tutorial but without the camera. I was all, "Now, you want to hold the scissors like this, people" and "Be sure to cut like so!" to no one. My husband even asked who I was talking to. No big deal, I'm just talking to myself in the mirror and walking myself through my own tutorial.

It's always a little nerve-wracking to cut your own hair but when you have walked into the valley of shadows as I have, you are fearless when it comes to hair. 

Overall, I'm happy with how it turned out and it's just in time for the cooler months.

Can you spot my fox necklace? You would if my boobs weren't pathetic swollen-mosquito-bite-like.

P.S. My facebook page is up and totally runnin' (in circles. Ha, just kidding...but seriously).

You should go check it out here just so that you will be up to date on all of my crazy Instagram posts and stuff. 

Why We Decided To Give Our Dog Up For Adoption

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I feel you, Johanna. I feel you! (+10 pts if you know where this is from which is totally an easy question so more like .10 pts)

This week, we had to make a very sad and hard choice. You see, we are currently homeless, insuranceless, and unemployed. Because Tyler's family doesn't want to watch us slowly deteriorate until we are eating our own feces, they graciously allowed us to live with them.

Let me tell you, living with in-laws is something else. Actually, I'm not going to say it's horrible because, really, I have the best in-laws and I'm not just saying that because my mother-in-law reads this blog. I think all of the people who got stuck with horrible in laws is because all of their niceness was absorbed by my my in-laws.

But there were some issues, nevertheless, and it was about our dog. 

We got Johanna 3 months ago and fell in love with her awesomeness but our neighbors that have sticks up their bum-bums were prejudiced towards her. We were all, "Guys, give her a chance! She only looks like she is going to rip you to bits". Then they were all, "No, she's huge and is probably illegal, on government assistance, and is the vicar of the anti-christ which, as you know, is Obama."

Yeah, it didn't make sense to me either but when they are threatening that she may or may not get "lead poisoning", this shiz just got real!

So we decided to put her up for adoption on Craigslist because, well, we liked her but we just didn't love her. Plus, I'll admit, we couldn't afford her anymore and I'm not going to apologize for that fact because, really, no one plans unemployment and when it comes down to my first-born son that is literally a piece of me or...a dog, I'm going with my kid. Call me a meat-eating, animal cruelty-lover, irresponsible person but I'm letting my true colors fly.

We instantly got a bajillion calls on her which made us feel better. There was a long line of people that would really love her and could provide her with a safer environment.

It was bittersweet handing her over to her new owners and on the drive home, Tyler and I had this conversation:

Tyler: Well...I think she is going to a good home.

Me: Yeah, those people are totally dog lovers, you can tell.

T: Awwww................they looked so white-trash.

J: Yeah, they did....but they are the kind of people that Johanna needs. They'll probably let her sleep in their bed.

T: Then they'll figure it out that she's in heat and we didn't tell them....

J: Yeah when they wake up with doggie-heat mess in their hair. I sure hope their other dog is neutered or they are going to have some ugly pit bull/Johanna puppies.

T: I bet they smoke. Aw, Johanna's lungs! She's going to get cancer.

J: ...And she'll probably get fat because they'll feed her table scraps.

T: And they probably yell a lot and wear tank tops that are 2 sizes too small.

J: Yeah....but, It's better this way, right?

T: Yes, they really wanted her.

Is it weird that I feel so shizzy about giving away a dog? It's not like I gave her to a dog-eating tribe or a research lab where they would test the effects of electricity on dogs. 

Am I the only one that feels guilty over dumb stuff?