No Man’s Land

Everyone dreads the grocery store before a holiday. Maybe not everyone, but everyone I talk to does. The issue is not Meemaw writing separate checks for all 7 items that she purchased, the issue is the husbands who have taken the week off from work to wear a Guinness shirt that has a hole in the armpit and is about a half a size too small and gym shorts under the guise of “family time.”

And what better way to be with your family than at the supermarket? So come on kids, Aiden, Addaline, Andrew, Anthony, and Arthur, let’s get into our gas guzzling SUV and make a day of it!

I simply cannot believe that all of the husbands in Publix chose today of all days to finally put their foot down and have a say about what kind of yogurt they eat. Men simply have no self-awareness when they enter the doors of a grocery store. All of a sudden they are bombarded with colors and smells and free samples and they cannot cope. It takes careful planning and practice to understand the layout and the flow of a grocery store. This cannot be done 3 days before Christmas.

I actually got caught behind a broad yet short man at the entrance to the dairy aisle with his arms spread wide and his hands like starfish, he was mouthing to his wife at the other end of the aisle, “WHERE?!” Perhaps couples need walkie talkies when they go to a big scary grocery store so that they can communicate about crackers and yogurt without breaking a sweat.

This issue does not stop with Christmas and Thanksgiving. Men can strike without any given notice at the grocery store. Somehow, I don’t even know how, but somehow they can place their cart in the absolute center of an aisle, sideways and wander off. One time some guy did this and when he came back, he came back from another aisle. Carts, my friends, have wheels. I’m pretty sure that’s what makes them carts.

Ok look, if you want to shop, go to a mall. Nobody likes going to the grocery store just to walk around unless you’re in a Judd Apatow film, then maybe. We are all at the grocery store because we need to be. Your family bonding over which bread is the softest is harshing my mellow for the next week. So please, family time is best enjoyed in your own home, much like masturbation.

Lonely Sock

I’d like to personally express my deepest and most sincere condolences for the mens no-show off-brand sock that was discovered without a mate on a cold and wet sidewalk this morning. Losing a mate is the hardest thing that one can live through. The heartbreak of being left behind stings. Perhaps some underclassman was hauling his laundry from one place to another. Surely it was an accident. It had to be, right? Who would throw a perfectly good sock away?  The future of this sock is going to be very different than the future of his mate. Sure, his mate will go on, have other mismatched mates, but the sidewalk sock will leave an indelible impression on the still wanted sock. Sure, they were off-brand, but they were off-brand together. Purchased by some penny-pinching mother in a time of duress. Her baby boy was leaving the nest and then he discards one like it means nothing to him. His mother means nothing to him.

What cruel human being would split up two socks that are clearly made for one another?

My poor, dear sock, I cannot adopt you. You are too broken. On the sidewalk you will remain until perhaps, and hopefully your mate comes looking for you. You were once useful and loved as much as an off-brand sock could be.

Good luck, mens off-brand sock. God speed.

Stephanie’s Golden Shower

So this one time. I was supposed to be living alone, at least that’s what my parents were paying for. I had somehow hooked up with this dude who I have talked about before, his name was Foley. So Foley was into some things that I really wasn’t. He liked to be burned and he liked to be placed in cages. His favorite, however, was being peed on.

I can’t pee by myself in the bathroom at my house without the faucet running if I know my husband is home.

He proposes it one day, like, super casual. “Hey, so Steph, you know, have you ever peed on anyone? It could be cool…”

I’m 21, sure, anything could be cool. What the fuck do I know?

So the blessed Saturday arrives. Like..look. I thought I could do it. I had peed in the fields of South Dakota, I peed behind the seating area at the Nebraska observatory with like people around, I’ve peed on dirt roads before. I got this shit. Let’s roll.

We stood in that bathroom that was covered in hair dye, by the way, because I had purple (ish) hair and I had no idea what kind of damage hair dye could do to drywall. We stood for like 30 minutes, both of us in our underwear. I had to pee. We stood and stared at each other.

I couldn’t do it. I peed in a glass and seductively poured it over his torso in my bathtub in which I cleaned promptly after.

He seemed to enjoy it as much as someone could getting sort of warm pee poured over them from a Beta Theta Pi plastic cup.

I didn’t see much of Foley after that. Which is probably good. However, any time I am in a public bathroom and it is dead silent, I think of my boy Foley and I’m like, “yeah dude, wasn’t gonna happen.”

The Punishment

Just define words you know Stephanie. Quit kicking the counter. I know what dad said, but what I’m telling you is to look up words you already know to define. I know this is stupid, but it was stupid of you to use the word “damn” where he could hear you. Yes, all summer. You have to write neater than that. Ok, I’ll get you a clean sheet. Lines? Let me see what I have. Here, use this. Oh yeah, pencil. Do you think he’s actually going to check this, Steph? I said quit kicking the counter. Just pick a letter. Stephanie, any letter. This doesn’t matter. I have stuff to do today, I can’t spend all day on your punishment. Ok, lets flip to F. No, you cannot define the word “fuck,” stop it. I really do have stuff to do today. Fine, do it yourself. I’ll be back in 30 minutes. You’re still not done? What the hell have you been doing? You have one definition written? Yes, sometimes letters are upside down, you don’t have to write that part. You know what? Just make up the definitions. He’s going to be home soon and he’s going to want to look at this. I don’t want to hear it from him. Not only is this your punishment, it’s mine too. P, ok. No, you cannot define “penis,” quit laughing, this is serious. You have to do this every single day this summer. Yes, he’s a jerk. Stop crying. How about I pick words and read you the definitions and you write them down? Ok, get your pencil. How about, “say?” Yes, it’s a small word, who cares? No you don’t have to go A-Z. I know he said that, but I’m saying you don’t have to. Just write down what I say. We are going to define the word “play” because that’s what you want to do right now. Ok, write this down, “engage in activity for enjoyment and recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose.” How about the word “golf” because that’s what dad is doing right now. Shit, that’s the garage door. He’s going to make you sit here all day. You should get a thesaurus and define all the synonyms for the word “damn,” that’s what got you here in the first place. A synonym is a word — hey, just finishing up. Yep it will be done when you are done with the shower. Now you’re stuck doing yardwork with him all day. Dammit.

Panel Interview at Benefit City

Hey Mike! Thanks for coming. I know our interview process is just really crazy. This will be the interview where we decide if you’re a good fit. Going from left to right you will see Zack, Mike G., Brad, Zach, Owen, and then myself, Mike M but as you may have noticed the guys just all call me Mikey.

Your last interview, you said your favorite beer is Pabst Blue Ribbon, solid choice. We usually let the new guy choose what’s on tap in the lounge. Since most of the guys we have working here also like PBR, that really worked in favor for you during that interview process. We really feel like you fit well in our culture. Come everyone, let’s walk. You said you were in what fraternity again in college? We have a lot of Kappas here at Benefit City so you may recognize some faces. Watch out for the flying helicopters in the hallways. Oh yeah, the foosball table was donated by Google we try really hard not to let the fact that Larry Page himself assembled it go to our heads.

Women? Yeah no, we don’t hire those. It’s not sexist, our HR team did a study and it proved that women are inferior and we’re the best so we can’t have any team members with uncontrollable bleeding every single month or an individual who could be out for periods of time due to a parasite. Bitches, who needs ‘em?

So you got a computer science degree from an uppity overpriced school in in the southeast? Cool man. We hire most of that school’s CS degree students right when they graduate and then we pay them a butt ton of money to sit in meetings all day.  What do we make? I really don’t know but somehow venture capitalists want to give us money. But it’s cool. Most of the guys on the team where you will be placed are making over $100,000 a year to respond to email and fix typos on websites. Are you still interested? Great! Let’s keep walking!

The reason we haven’t already offered you the position is because we have one final interview. We have these things called Healthy Points here at Benefit City. You can track them on your Apple Watch. You get points by doing physical activity, like running.  Oh this? This is just a storeroom. We call this a trust exercise, come on in. We are going to strip you naked, tape your mouth and put your head in a garbage bag. This is actually how you will meet our CTO.

I know it’s cold, just follow sound of my voice. We are going to round up the rest of the teams and we’re going to put on our sacrificial hoods now. I’ll take the bag off so you can see. Do you see what you have to look forward to?! We’re going to an open soccer field surrounded by woods. Our goal is for you to get away from us, if you do, you win and get the job. If you lose it means that you have been injured and you will be left to bleed out on the field. The one who killed you gets a new BMW.

On my count…1…2…GO!

Blurred Lines

Dear Robin Thicke,

In your song “Blurred Lines” we are still unclear as to what rhymes with, “hug me.”  So we have taken the liberty to compile a list of possible guesses:

  1. Fug me
  2. Rug me
  3. Tug me
  4. Pug me
  5. Mug me
  6. Plug me
  7. Thug me
  8. Smug me
  9. Jug me

My Husband’s ADHD

@jaredwsmith used to work together a lot.  When we moved to CHS that kind of stopped, and it really stopped when I went back to school because when I do school work I usually need to be left alone, and I find when Jared is with me and I am trying to do school work he tends to distract me.  Well this was proven true yet again yesterday at Starbucks when he was working on something and I was writing a paper.  I said to myself, sure, we can try working in the same room together again. Why not?

I have been telling Jared that he needs ADHD meds since I met him. I was formally diagnosed ADHD last year but I had been on meds for some time for it.  Now that I am on drugs for it though, I notice his….ADHD-ness more. Here is a list of observations that I had from the 60-ish minutes we spent together at Starbucks:

  • air drumming
  • forced focus and failure
  • ooo! a lady in a purple dress!
  • more air drumming
  • door
  • bouncy leg
  • phone
  • phone
  • phone
  • bouncy body
  • is my phone on?
  • phone
  • air drumming
  • nodding
  • phone
  • bouncy both legs
  • window
  • door
  • *sips coffee*
  • puts cup down pensively
  • adjusts where the cup is on the table with great care
  • window
  • phone
  • drums
  • drumming on the table – we put an end to that real quick
  • air keyboard – like the musical kind. yeah, that’s what I married.
  • door
  • door
  • door
  • phone
  • music
  • phone
  • nodding/”jamming out”
  • “whhhyyyyyy can I noootttt foooocuuusss????” head in hands
  • phone
  • window
  • window
  • window
  • dancing – and pointing at screen? wut?
  • air guitar

Needless to say, we did not stay at Starbucks very long because his distraction made me distracted so neither of us got anything done.

“The Crow” by Edgar Allan Poe

I’m sitting in art history this week and we are talking about Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights. If you look closely in the lower lefthand corner of the left panel, there is a bird.  It is a black bird.  My teacher called it a crow. She then makes some reference to the fact that the far right panel is dark and ominous. Then she makes a Poe reference.

“Yeah, you guys know that story by Edgar Allan Poe, ‘The Crow?'” My heart skipped a beat. I paused.  My ears perked up.  I was wondering if someone was going to correct her.

One of the senior citizens auditing the class raises his paw, “yeah, like in the story by Poe, ‘The Crow…'” I was like, “aw…naw…” the next 2-3 people to comment on this thread kept calling Poe’s poem “The Raven” “The [motherfucking] Crow.” AW! AAW! NAW NAW NAW! I couldn’t even tell you what they were saying because I was too busy trying not to explode.

If I hadn’t had to stay after to turn something in, I would have packed up and walked out of the room.

I don’t care if you don’t know Poe, or if you failed high school English or even if you don’t know that it’s a poem, not a story. I don’t care, we’re not all English majors.  But at least know the fucking species of the animal in one of the most famous things ever written.

Poe rolled over in his grave on Wednesday.

Why Michael’s is the 2nd circle of hell

I am in this art history class and for our final project we have a paper.  Which, ok, this fucking paper. She has 2 (two) single-spaced pages of instructions but uses words like “visual analysis” and “visual summary.” Nowhere does it say you need a thesis. That’s a whole other conversation and we need to write this tonight with brevity because (1) I have to pee and I’m really just too lazy to get up (2) I’m tired because that 7am nap in the Walgreen’s parking lot just didn’t get me through to all day (3) If I think about this too much my head may explode.  But yeah, the other half is a 4″ x 4″ piece of “artwork.” I want to punch her in the face them vomit all over her for this.

A list of reasons why I, and you, and anyone who has hobbies outside of making useless shit should hate Michael’s:

  • Everything is expensive as fuck
  • Everything is covered in foam
  • They sell miles of string, but no scissors
  • Beads. Just…Beads
  • How in the fuck….how many kinds of mod podge do you need to feel important
  • Glitter. Glitter is the work of the devil.
  • Fake flowers, yet none of said fake flowers say what kind of real flower they represent, so they are made-up flowers sold only at Michael’s Flower market
  • What is up with all the glass flat-sided bead….things? You put them…where?
  • Flameless candles
  • Real candles that nobody buys so they are discolored and smell like shit
  • Framing that costs at least 1,000,000,000,000x more than ANYWHERE else
  • Another note on framing, I don’t fucking know what size anything is, don’t ask me these questions, you’re wearing an apron therefore you are supposed to hold the answers to my framing questions
  • Beanie Babies at the checkout. Come on.
  • Stale candy at checkout, because we all know stay at home mommies who make headbands for their Etsy stores can’t resist some stale M&M’s

Excuse me?

I found this in my drafts. 6/15/2017.


I am an English major (hear me roar). If you know me, you know that I don’t like spending time on things that don’t directly relate to my goals. My goals do not include any knowledge that I would obtain in a biology sequence. I have legit shit in my life, but most of it I can get through. I came to class with a gnarly cold this semester that took my husband out of work for 2 days. My biology 102 teacher does not know this.

Let me defend myself, this class could be taught online. She sits at her desk and reads from powerpoint slides that we all get ahead of time.  And honestly, its 3:30 – 4:45 every Monday and Wednesday at the campus that is located 0.9mi from the main campus, where I park. And I have 15 minutes between classes.  And then I have to sit in traffic on the way home? *whines*

Here is a brief list of excuses that I have provided my instructor this semester to get an excused absence:

  • I peed my pants – I actually used this twice for this class, I dare you to try to trump incontinence
  • I have a headache
  • I have a migraine
  • I overslept – for a 3:30pm class
  • I am dehydrated
  • Traffic
  • My dad was having surgery
  • My mom got in a car accident
  • My husband is sick
  • My dog is sick — I have 3 dogs, and this imaginary disease is contagious
  • I forgot
  • There was a train and I was afraid that it would take too long to past, so I just went back to the main campus and went home
  • I had a wardrobe malfunction
  • I forgot my laptop at home so I had no way to take notes
  • My group member said we didn’t have class today! Weird!
  • I am having an anxiety attack
  • I threw up
  • I couldn’t find parking
  • My 2012 still-in-warranty Passat broke down…again…
  • I feel like I have a fever which means I may be contagious
  • I have a bladder infection
  • I have a UTI
  • I have cramps
  • My washer/dryer/AC broke down and I have to wait for the guy to come fix it
  • Someone is blocking my driveway and I don’t know who so I can’t get out of my garage
  • I tested positive for a pregnancy test and I didn’t think I was, so I really freaked out and I called my husband at work and he came home then I called my OB/GYN and went in…LONG STORY SHORT! I am not pregnant, but that’s why I missed class today

At midterm, I was still passing and enrolled.  I learned today that I only have to keep making excuses until 4/27, then I can stop feeling guilty about skipping class.

**Written in biology 102 4/8/15**