NYR People - Why I will never use this saying again!

It is a well known fact that every gym person hates the month of January at the gym and I think we all know why - the “New Years Resolution People.” Yes we name them just that. We say that “It’s OK, in February the machines won’t be busy anymore cause people will stop coming.” When I hear this OR say it (yes I admit my guilt) it kinda makes me sad. Which I wonder why do I say that? I was the New Years Resolution girl once that I guarantee you people thought the same thing of. How ridiculous.




Today I went to the Y. I hadn’t been there since Monday. Now you ALL know me well enough that I go to the gym pretty much every single day. Well between being sick on Tuesday and just having a shitty week Wednesday through Friday I didn’t go. Again - SO not like me, especially when I about had a heart attack on Monday when I had gained major poundage in a 3 day time period. And I mean 9 pounds major! I have NO idea how that happened, not like I spent 3 days straight at Ponderosa or anything - it was the holidays, whatever. Over and Done.



I am happy to report that as of this morning (Saturday) I have lost 9.8 pounds since Monday! Don’t ask me how, I have no clue - especially when I didn’t hit the gym for 4 days straight. Any who…



So I go into the gym and yes, low and behold, there are “NYR” people everywhere. But there were free machines which made me happy. I worked the treadmill and then hit the weights and the weight machines. In front of me on the one machine was a NYR person. I thought I knew her. She got up from her machine and said “Well I think I’m done.” Again, I thought I knew her and I said “Do you think you can do more?” And I wasn’t being a smart ass I just thought that some kind of encouragement would maybe help her.



She said “Yah I think I can but I don’t want to push it. I just started working out and I heard weights are the key to losing weight. I said “Well maybe, I don’t know, I didn’t start lifting until I lost my weight, I found that cardio was the key for me. Cheryl (NYR lady) says “Oh did you lose weight?”

HERE WE GO the million dollar question that turns a 3 sentence conversation into a 45 minute interview. I answered and yes, 45 minutes later she said to me:

“You know I am so glad I talked to you. You are my inspiration. I started Weight Watchers in November and I have only lost 7 pounds. I weighed 318 pounds when I got on that scale. I never told anyone that but I feel like I can tell you that and not be embarrassed because you have been there. Oh I am just so happy that I talked to you.”



GULP.



I have to tell you that I absolutely HATE when someone says that I am their inspiration or their Hero. I don’t know, maybe I don’t. It is a double edged sword. It is me being looked up to which means I can’t slip up. That is the other side of the sword - being someone’s inspiration means you cannot fail…you try your best….you work out like crazy…you watch what you eat. It is frustrating.



This past Sunday we were at Eat n Park for the breakfast buffet which was also a brunch and we ran into our Real Estate Agent that sold us our house 12 years ago on 1/29/99. She told me “You look absolutely fantastic, how did you lose your weight?” Maybe I should think about printing brochures to pass out when people ask the question. After a quick 2 minute Cliff Notes version of my story I went to the buffet. Now I am pissed off. Why am I pissed off? CAUSE NOW I CAN’T EAT BACON. NOW I CAN’T EAT SAUSAGE. NOW I CAN’T EAT ANYTHING BAD FOR ME! Why? Because Susie and her family are sitting at a table that I have to walk past to get to our table. And of course, when I did get some potato soup and put cheese and croutons on top (oh maybe that was the weight gain problem, hmm) I see her and she says “Now how can you eat that and be skinny?” UGH!!!!!!!



#1 - I am not skinny.

#2 - Susie stop over (you know where I live) and watch me weigh myself Monday morning.

#3 - I realize that this meal is gonna result in a 2 hour gym time come Monday night.

I came home from the gym this morning/afternoon and told Dave “Sorry I took so long I had a talker on my hands.” He asked who and what about and I told him Cheryl’s whole story and what we talked about. Dave said “You know what Mandy yah, maybe she did disrupt your work out for a while (writers note - I didn’t think that since I initiated the conversation) but YOU just made that woman feel better about herself. You gave her inspiration and you showed her that you can lose the weight on Weight Watchers and have success.”



With that I vow to never think of someone as a NYR at the gym again. Never.

The Wallflowers, Jimmy Buffett and Snoop Dogg

Ever wake up from a dream and say “WTF?!?!?!?!”




SO here is what I remember…..Amber, Dawson and I went to the Jimmy Buffett concert. We are up in the lawn section of Starlake (sorry I still have to call it Starlake). Dawson wants to go and get something to drink – I give him money and let him go by himself. This would never happen at Starlake…..here we go back in time (Flex Capacitor) to the early 90’s. The following is not a dream, it really happened.



The boyfriend and I went to our first Jimmy Buffett concert in like 1994 maybe? He was 21 and bought a case of Zima (I know – time warp, right?). We head to Starlake and drink A LOT in the parking lot laughing at people and watched them stagger across the road to the woods to piss.

We go inside.



We find our place on the lawn.



We decide we need more to drink so he goes to get us some beer. I stay in our place on the lawn. I say “Are you going to remember where I am at up here?” He says “Yah I’ll just look for the guy with the lobster on his head.” At the time this seemed like a good idea. I repeat – at the time. Apparently in my Zima drunk I was not paying attention to everyone’s attire. BIG MISTAKE.



10 minutes go by, no boyfriend.

15 minutes go by, no boyfriend.

30 minutes go by, where the fuck is he?

45 minutes go by and so does a Conga line with Keith Szalankiewicz in it. That was weird…

60 minutes I say OMG I lost my boyfriend, and my way home and OMG where did Keith go in case I need a ride back to Ford City?!?!?!



I go on a mission to find the boyfriend. I check over by the beverages since that was where he was heading AN HOUR AGO. No boyfriend. Then I think “OMG I have to piss!” Wait – for what we drank he should too…..HEY THERE HE IS! Staggering around with 2 draft beers, one in each hand. We chug the beer and make out like the end of the world is near to the point where people tell us to “Get a room!”. Oh young love……gag!



Anyways, back to my dream this morning…. after a few minutes I am frantic because my child has been gone 10 minutes and hasn’t return. I head down the lawn and start looking for him. I find him in a hospitality tent for the entertainment! The hospitality tent has a swimming pool. Really?



Amber and I hang out in there while Dawson swims and  THEN I get in the swimming pool fully clothed and in a white t-shirt – umm hello?



Jacob Dylan (lead singer of The Wallflowers, also Bob Dylan’s son) walks by. I start screaming (because I am a fan) “DYLAN! DYLAN! DYLAN!” He keeps walking and ignores me. I am like “OK dick!” Then I realize I am calling him by his wrong name. I yell “JACOB!” He stops dead in his tracks, turns around, says “That’s better!” I ask for a picture with him (in my white, wet t-shirt). He takes off all his clothes and jumps in the pool with me. WHOA COWBOY! What the hell?!?! Amber takes a few pictures WITH HIS JUNK EXPOSED (I love the word junk BTW).



As if this dream can’t get any odder –



He leaves cause he has to play the show. But wait! Tonight in addition to The Wallflowers and Jimmy Buffett playing there’s a third act! SNOOP DOGG! My God what did I eat before I went to bed? Special Brownies?



Snoop and his entourage come walking by the pool. Behind them is a huge gospel choir in choir robes. The choir robe collars have fake dreadlocks hanging from them. Really? Anyways Bill Waters, YOU were in the choir in a choir robe complete with fake dreadlocks.



Jimmy Buffett starts, I jump out of the pool, my shirt is amazingly dry and we run to the lawn, Amber, Dawson and I – to do “Fins” and then the alarm went off.



I shake my head, hope I remember that dream and hit the shower. Wow. Snoop Dogg, a naked Wallflower and a Zima flashback. Yoy!

New Year Fashion F-Up's........

Call it a New Years Resolution soon to be broken. OK I’m not putting it on my list of resolutions but considering I haven’t blogged in like FOREVER and it’s January 3rd it will be considered just that. It’s the first day of the work year and not even 9 AM and I have already told my boss I am pissed at him and that I Mother F’ed him the whole way home from work on the previous Thursday. Nice.

Today Drunk Trashy Martha feels like the damn Goodyear Blimp. My fat jeans are snug. I had difficulty bending over to tie my shoe. WTF!!!! Oh and why am I getting pimples at the age of 28 (insert LOL here) when I didn’t get them in high school?!?!?! Jesus! Wacked.



Back to the blimp thing – seriously ugh! IDK why I am such an idiot and why I lose all control on the weekends. What is the damn point of eating cabbage soup and salad and egg whites Monday through Friday when you are eating like there’s no tomorrow on the weekend? That shit has to stop. Of course the gym not being open for the past 2 Friday’s doesn’t help matters either. Looks like it’s gonna be a cereal for dinner kind of week which trust me, if it makes me feel better it’s worth it.



Bought a new pair of jeans yesterday – didn’t try them on cause I already have 2 pairs the same brand in that size. Do they fit? Fuck no they don’t fit. Even with an excessive MUFFIN TOP they don’t fit. I would have to do yoga for 3 hours straight to stretch those bitches out just to be able to button them. FML.



Muffin top is just disgusting but as I sit here mine is disguised by a Nike fleece. I don’t understand people’s way of dressing anymore, I really don’t. The whole pajama bottom shit puts me over the edge. When did it become acceptable to wear your pajamas in public? I DON’T UNDERSTAND! My God I don’t even like going to get the mail in my pajamas in fear that someone I know is going to cruise on by. Some chick right before Christmas HERE AT WORK had on pajama bottoms. I gave her “the fashion eye” to which she said “What don’t you like my PJ’s?” I shook my finger at her up and down and said “I don’t even know what to say about this!”



LISTEN to me! There is never an acceptable time to be wearing your pajamas in public. NEVER! And sweat pants in the office? Really? No. I don’t give a shit how bloated you are or how tired you are – it is NOT ACCEPTABLE! I mean the worst I ever wore to work was my yoga pants and that was on the day after Thanksgiving when no one is here.



And what is this I hear about Pajama Jeans? My friends have told me these exist – I have not yet seen the commercial. Boo to that (probably because I fast forward through all commercials). I can see it now…..Miller’s Hoagie or Sprankle’s…plagued by an over abundance of Pajama Jeans. I just Googled Pajama Jeans – check it.

https://www.pajamajeans.com/flare/next?utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=PJOfficial&etag=pjx&gclid=CL2Owp-bnqYCFac65QodRA9qnA



WTF!!!!!!! I can see it now – a bunch of fake Ugg boots and Pajama Jeans – the new Armstrong County uniform. Gross.

"You're going to make me fat again!"

Hey readers!

Damn I suck, I know. Apparently this actually working phase I am going through is hurting my blog postings big time. I promise to slack off a tad to satisfy your eyes.

Went to the podiatrist on Wednesday. Remembered my appointment that morning so did the "courtesy shave" of the legs. Cut myself on the ankle bone - why?!?! Bled like a pig, awesome.

So I have been avoiding the podiatrist for like a year now. Not that I was scared of him or anything like that but because I knew he was going to ground me. Yes, ground me - forbidding me to do something. THE PODIATRIST TOOK AWAY MY CRACK COCAINE! OK not really but ladies and gentlemen I have addictions. Fortunately my addictions are not things like drugs, alcohol, gambling, you know - all the celebrity rehab shit. My addictions are to certain foods (Herr's cheese curls, Wendy's fries, Doughnuts), certain things (Betseyville purses, OPI nail polish, jewelry), and certain activities (running, walking on an incline, yoga).

Now trust me - 5 years ago if you would have said I would be addicted to running I would have pissed myself laughing in front of you. I seriously would have. But yes, this is now my obsession. I obsess about how many miles in how long, how many calories I can burn in 10 minutes, if I can beat my time from the previous run, blah blah blah.

MR PODIATRIST IS A BIG MEANIE!

He tells me I have an injury and that he is going to give me a shot and then we can talk about what we can do after this appointment to heal my injury. I grab my foot out of his hand and hold it up at my ear, thank you yoga, in a jean skirt and stop him. He looks at me like "WTF!" and I advise him that we are going to talk about this first, he needs to understand that I have an obsession. He tells me I can't run for 2 weeks, I tell him I am going to kick him in the face. He tells me that if I don't listen to him I am going to have to have surgery and the recovery time from that is a lot longer than the 2 weeks he is going to put me down...he wins.

So I get the shot and look at the nurse and say "he is going to make me fat again if I can't run for two weeks!" She says that I will not. He tells me I can't walk on the treadmill for 2 weeks either. I now tell him I am going to punch him in the face. He says I need to rest for two days - I am on the verge of bawling. Then I realize I apparently need a psychiatrist also because WHO THE FUCK CRIES AT THE FOOT DOCTOR!?! Drunk Martha does, that's who.

Mr Foot says that I can go to yoga the next day - this makes me feel a little bit better about not causing him physical harm. Mr Foot says that after 48 hours I can do the eliptical and bicycle. Mr Foot is starting to inch his way off my hate list. Mr Foot says after 2 weeks I can run 1.5 miles a day every other day until I see him on September 27th. ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? The day after the Great Race. F F F F F!!!!

He then tells me that I need to wear "sensible shoes" and ones with good support. Apparently my flip flops that are adorable are not in this category. Listen, I know this OK. I'm not a moron but my friends, shoes are quite an issue with me. I have standards and rules that I feel everyone should follow when it comes to shoes in the summer:

#1 - Thou shall not wear athletic shoes with a dress or a skirt.
#2 - Thou shall not wear socks and shoes with capri pants - adorable sandals and flops are acceptable.

If you think that I am going to change my rules you are crazy. If you think I am going to look like one of those Duggar kids with a skirt and tennis shoes on then you have lost your fucking mind. BTW - why do they wear long skirts, not cut their hair? I don't get that....

I have changed out the shoes since my nightmare appointment the other day and have been sporting more wedges than flops. I am listening a little bit. I did the eliptical and bike at the gym, I really do want to get better but it's so hard giving up the obsession, even if for just 2 weeks.

So I have some great pics from the fashionable Dayton Fair that I can't wait to share with all of you. Sorry that this blog wasn't as funny as those past but stay tuned!

Drunk Trashy Martha crashes a 50th Class Reunion

Hi readers! My apologies for not writing for a few days - just not enough hours in the day. This past week was pretty damn uneventful and not much to say about it - until Saturday. We decided to tie one on and some members of the "BFF Wolf Pack" hit the Polish Falcons, LA Club, Hilltop and Firehouse - all before 1 AM. Pretty damn impressive, I know.

We were lucky enough to crash a Ford City High School 50th Class Reunion. They were over and done with by 10:40 and the lame ass DJ was playing some lame ass oldies, fortunately not country. After nagging we were allowed to take over the dance floor (not that this was a problem because no one was dancing) and well, we will let the picture speak for itself:

Oh yes, the Animal House move, the "I'm a responsible 35 year old woman", the "who gives a fuck" dance move. Awesome. So after this the DJ says he's done and basically F off cause it's not our party anyways. He sucked. I think we told him that.

At the Hilltop Amber spotted this sweet ride in the parking lot. I, of course, had to throw the BFF Wolf Pack gang sign, THE SHOCKER:

Again, I'm a responsible adult.

So this week is pretty exciting in the land of what I like to call "past the driveway" also known as cow country, Amish country, freaking Dayton, PA. IT'S FAIR WEEK! And can you get any more redneck than the freaking demolition derby people? Well, no, no you can't. This not only is an unbelievable sight to watch but the crowd watching is just remarkable. I am looking forward to seeing some rebel flag bandanas, Mickey Mouse tattoos, and some carnival marijuana belts, hats and tee shirts. A whole pile of awesomeness all in one place, can't wait. I seriously laugh for hours and hours on end. I think about the Death Mobile at the parade in Animal House - God that's a fantastic movie. If I ever have a demo car you can bet your sweet ass it will look just like the Death Mobile.

I may finish the weekend off on Sunday with a trip to Boarders to spy on the Dungeons and Dragons "I still live with my mom" people and perhaps head down towards Oakland in the park of the Highland Park Bridge where renaissance people dress up and fight each other. Can you imagine the blog material? OMG!

"Abby's" first wax.

Hey readers! Sorry for yesterday's lame ass post. I had a boring ass day and nothing was coming to me. Then I thought that I don't need to wait for new shit to happen, I have 14 years of legal drinking and 5 of illegally drinking stories that I can share will all of you.

I called my friend and asked her if I could write about her first waxing experience and she said as long as I changed her name to Abby she was cool with it.

THIS IS SERIOUSLY ONE OF THE MOST FUNNIEST FUCKING STORIES EVER!

Abby decided one night that she was going to try waxing. She went to the store and bought wax. Abby took off her clothes, read the directions and covered her pubes with wax. The sad thing is, the directions didn't say to weed wack / trim the bush first. Nor did Abby tell anyone she was doing this. Hey, us bitches tell each other lots of stuff but vaj talk isn't always a topic of conversation.

So anyways Abby realizes that she has nothing but huge waxy hairballs hanging off of her pubic hair and that none of the wax actually went on her skin. Jeez now that I think about it that must have been some tumbleweed down there...

Abby calls (who else) but her mom frantically asking her what to do. Too bad mom had Abby on speaker phone and was hosting card night that consists of many of our retired school teachers from FCHS...awesome.

Finally she figures out that she will just take scissors and cut the waxy hairballs off. Then she can be trimmed and start all over the right way.....

EPIC FAIL!

The fucking scissors get stuck in the wax. My friends, I am serious. Let me repeat - THE SCISSORS GOT STUCK IN THE WAX! What the shit! Now many people have more than one pair of scissors - scrapbookers, seamstresses, umm barbers, office kleptos, but not Abby - she had 1 lone pair of scissors.

What's a girl to do at this point? Waxy, hairy balls hanging from her pubes, scissors stuck and hanging from her crotch. Abby puts on a pair of sweatpants and drives herself to Giant Eagle to buy baby oil and scissors.

People, I can't make this good of a story up.

A week later we went out drinking. Abby was in the backseat of my Pontiac Aztec, at the time, and decided to moon my sister and brother in law when they drove by. After she shot the moon she said "I bet Jill and Brandon are thinking "Who's the 10 year old girl in the back of your car?"

LMFAO! Like I said, one of the best stories ever. It never gets old. Never!

Drink Recipe - Raspberry Champagne Punch

Drunk Trashy Martha here with the drink recipe of the week:

Raspberry Champagne Punch!

What you need:

1 bottle of champagne (I like Barefoot pink champagne the best).
1 2-liter 7Up or Sprite
1/2 container frozen pink lemonade
1 container fresh raspberries

Difficult instructions:

Pour it all together. So easy even my sister could make it!

The Stink Curtain.

The work bathroom. You know where I'm going.....is just nasty. First off the thing is so God damn cold I could cut glass when I walk in there if you know what I'm sayin'. I do not work with a bunch of elementary kids so I find signs explaining the basics totally unnecessary. Today I did the unthinkable and took my cell phone into the stall to capture the image. As soon as I knew my phone was going to make that "picture sound" I coughed loudly. I mean really, who wants her co-workers to think she's sending perverted pictures to someone and taking them in the bathroom stall.

Let's break this down shall we? Who the fuck is leaving behind:
Used Toilet Paper?

Feminine Products?

Human Waste?

And what else could be filed under ETC?

Eww.

Seriously we have to tell grown women to get rid of this stuff? What the fuck man! My next question is who is going to check for violators? Are there pooper police that I am not aware of?

Anyways. I have to let you all in on a little secret:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dFdRqoVSZPE

Yes that's right boys and girls, everybody poops.

I have discovered that many people do this at work. Hey, no problem! I would rather you do that than have a heart attack later giving birth at home if you know what I mean. But what I do have a problem with is....THE STINK CURTAIN!

The STINK CURTAIN is when you walk into the bathroom and it hits you like BOOM holy Jesus that smell is horrible! Reminds me of:

"Damn Boy, what'd you eat?"

OK so you're dropping a deuce at work and I get hit with the stink curtain, whatev. But what totally pisses me off is that the second I latch my stall door you flush, run out, wash your hands (thank God) and haul ass out the door like it's a fire drill. This leaves me to deal with stink curtain, no problem. BUT it always happens. As soon as I walk out of my stall someone else strolls into the bathroom and gets hit with the stink curtain. Now does this person think "Wow, the person in here 2 minutes ago that has since gone really left one" or are they thinking "Wow, Drunk Trashy Martha must have had cabbage and brocolli for dinner last night."

I think it's #2 (pun intended).

As you may have guessed by now, I am a mean girl. Right out of the movie Mean Girls. Seriously. I LOVE to mess with people in the bathroom that are afraid to poop when someone else is in there (they apparently are not familiar with the courtesy flush technique). These people sit quietly holding and squeezing their ass cheeks together and breaking a sweat hoping that the person that just walked in does their piss and leaves STAT. When I know this I do the meanest, horrible thing. I take my time. Yes it's true, I don't want to be in there for very long but I love messing with people that are holding onto the handicap bars for dear life by fixing my hair, smiling in the mirror, adjusting my clothing, looking at my ass, washing my hands for an extra long time, applying lotion, I am such a bitch but it cracks me up. The best is when as I'm leaving someone else walks in. Looks like you're wait just got longer honey. Have fun with that.

Hey, have a great night everybody and remember EVERYBODY POOPS!

Unicorn Penis

Happy Sunday everyone. I love Sunday's. They typically involve me and endless cups of Joe and a nice big breakfast courtesy of the husband. This morning, not the case. Yah I got my coffee but no breakfast due to my ass rolling in at 3 AM this morning from the Southside.

Cally asked me what the name of my GPS and I said "Fucking Bitch." This held true last night as the "FB" continuously would fail to tell me where to turn until I was right at the street. Bitch! Anyways I should freaking know by now how to get down to the Southside, I think this was like my 3rd or 4th trip this year.

We headed to Bar 11. It is not on Carson Street. Little Miss "FB" actually got us there which was impressive but as we sat in the car and looked at the place I was like "Umm really? Are we at the right place? Doesn't look like a bar AT ALL. Except for Christmas Lights which, let's face it, in PA isn't too much a sign of a bar as it could be just total laziness."

We pulled the can opener out of the glove box and I paralel parked like better than ANYONE ever could. I mean Denny Stewart or Harry Beckwith couldn't even park like I did in their Student Driver car. Fantastic.

The WORST thing I hate about drinking in the Southside isn't the alcohol tax or not being able to smoke, it is having to show THIS to everyone before walking in:

Listen, I know everyone hates their drivers license picture but umm, I take the cake on this one. Actually looking at the picture I think I take the cake, eat it (and 10 more of its friends - they never saw it coming). I cannot cannot cannot wait until 01/18/2011 it will be a fantastic day. Cally and I compared pics - hers is hot, of course, but hers also says she is a MALE. I freaking love it.

So we show our ID and step inside and I am like "WHAT THE FUCK!" Here is what I see:

- Black Light

- Men wearing candy necklaces.

- A man in a suit jacket, shorts and ski goggles upside down on his forehead.

- A bunch of stupid sluts in stupid slut dresses.

- Pounder cans of PBR.

NICE!

Cally and I step up to the bar, she gets an Amstel Light, an Ultra for me. The guy brings us back our change and drops a whole handful of shit on the bar. Umm OK? Shut up. We were given:

- Glow in the dark plastic fangs.

- 2 smiley face mazes.

- 2 large plastic dice.

- An army man.

- Red plastic lips with a whistle in them.

- A couple plastic frogs and dinosaurs.

- A lime green ring.

- 2 candy necklaces.

- A kaleidoscope.

Seriously.

We head over to the table and I then realize THE WALLS ARE COVERED IN TIN FOIL! I swear to God. Here's the proof:

There are metal street signs on the floor and foil on the wall. There is a drum set hanging over the bar. The mirror ball is twirling and umm the Backstreet Boys are playing on the sound system. Drunk guys are singing the Backstreet Boys. Ski goggle man, who apparently is the owner, picks up a drum stick and starts beating on a drum. I seriously said what the fuck like 398 times. A few guys walked by us with "Hello my name is" name tags on with highlighter names wrote on them. Here were some of my favorites I saw on dude's:

- Oprah Book Club Member.

- D Bag

But what I really really loved were the ones sticking to the tin foil on the wall beside our table:

and the BEST one:

 I love it. Even the one bartender breathed fire. That was nuts. As the place got busier I noticed that Cally and I looked like a forrest of Redwoods in this place - I mean I am 5'10" and had wedges on but all the guys in this place were freaking short! We did comparisons and I stood beside many of them just to be certain the black light wasn't messing with me. Apparently there is something in the water in Pittsburgh that stuns the growth of men. The water also shortens girls dresses that go to the Southside.

I have another story from our last bar but I will save it for another day as this blog and it's photos are getting long. Thanks for reading readers and have a great week!

A kick ass band name!

Happy Friday my readers! I find myself constantly thinking of stories past that I can't wait to share with you - on a boat in Cancun, Mexico...pushing cotton in the bathroom...crazy drinking conversations...the first night of Write That Down (known as WTD, remember that).

On my way into work this morning I was trying to decide what to write about. Had to stop at what I refer to as the "Big Bird" to get some coffee for the homestead. Trashy Drunk Martha says:

"To get gourmet coffee at home buy 1 regular can of coffee and 1 expensive 12 oz bag of flavored ground coffee. Place 1/2 of the regular coffee in your existing container and keep the other 1/2 in the new container. Add 6 oz of the expensive stuff to each container and shake it up. Boom! 2 almost full containers of coffee for like $11." Sweet.

I got to work at 7:29 with 1 minute to spare. Still couldn't think of anything to write about. "Today better be freaking crazy that I have something to write about, WTF! Think!" Coffee break and boom, free coffee and soda today! Brilliant!

Sometimes you are just in the right place at the right time. Walking into fantastic conversations is a true blessing. My morning break buddies and partners in crime, Sean and Jeremy (who must have got a good nights sleep because he was awake! Amazing!) point to a sales flyer on the table. IT'S A SALES AD FOR THE "SCARY STORE!" Seriously one day I will discuss the "SCARY STORE" but at this pont it's not necessary. I say "Ooh haven't been there lately." Sean says:

"We were checking out the ad and decided that something on that page would be a kick ass band name." O.M.G. here we go...

So the boys make me go through the ad and try to find the "kick ass band name." I shout out:

"Sure Fine White Bread!"...nope. This reminds me to tell Jeremy that Vanilla Ice is coming to Altar Bar on the 12th. He could give a shit.

"Umm Canadian Ham?"....nope. Would be a great name for a band from America's hat...Canada! What if Celine Dion called herself Canadian Ham? She sucks regardless. Whiner.

"Peach Pie Ala Mode?"...denied. What the fuck is it!?!?

Sean finally says "The Meat Wieners." OK seriously that is freaking hysterical. A band called the Meat Wieners. Can you imagine? But wait! I spot something in the Produce Section of the flyer.
"OH NO. I am so starting an all-girls band called Juicy Jumbo Cantaloupes." Fuck The Go-Go's, The Bangles, The freaking Donna's. What the hell kind of names are those? Dammit, Juicy Jumbo Cantaloupes, I love it.

I carry the conversation over to lunch while having conversations with my lunch buddies Martin and Dave. Martin says "If you saw a sign outside of a bar that said "Full Frontal" would you go in?" I say absolutely. He tells me that's the name of his friends band. I ask if he needs an opening act that I'm "getting the band back together." OK I never had a band but sometimes a good movie quote like that from the Blues Brothers just has to be used. By the end of lunch we also added Spank Bank onto our list of kick ass band names (taken from yesterday's blog). Awesome.

Ooh Ooh Ooh! Funny thing today at the Pittsburgh Mills. I see these adorable shoes for my son outside of the Finish Line. I debate for 2.2 seconds and decide that he needs them. I go up to the counter and in front of me I see this MAN:

Oh dear Jesus, are you kidding me? A damn MAN PURSE! Today is my lucky day! I go to the clerk beside him and ask if he has these shoes for my son in a 4. He says that he doesn't think so and starts looking in the computer. I do a "Psst!" to him and whisper (he's probably like 17) "Dude have you ever seen The Hangover?" He replies "Oh yah, I'm already on it." I say "Me too, what do you think I have been standing here texting all this time. He says "I knew it!" That, my friends, is fantastic.

FINAL NOTE:

I thought I was done with my blog just now and ran a spell check on it, even though my spelling kicks it old school. I typed the word Cantaloupes as the ad stated which as you can see says "Cantalopes." To pay homage to the idea for my all-girls band name I will keep the spelling as the speds did on this ad. They, obviously, do NOT use the spell check and need to.

"This call crosses the fine line of appropriate talk in the workplace."

I think it takes 3 weeks to form a habit, but for myself being day #2 is impressive.
Thank you all for your positive comments through FaceBook - hopefully they are truthful and not based on the read about my ninja fighting skills mentioned in yesterday's post.

This past week in the work place brought quite a few inappropriate comments sent via email and spoken over the phone, via email and/or in person. I would like to share these with you. Here is a list and a quick explanation (if needed) of the conversation:

Me to "R" - "R is that a fanny pack hanging up in your cubicle?
"R" to Me - "Yah, so what, you got a problem with that?"
Me to "R" - "Yes. Yes I do."

Me to D on lunch when some chick comes out on her lunch break to go for a walk wearing a tank top and jeans:
Me to D - "How is it that your arms are so hot that you need to wear a tank top but your legs are so cold you wear jeans?"
D to Me - "Maybe she doesn't like her legs."
Me to D - "Maybe she has cankles."

Email from A telling me "Hey I know people, you better start kissing my ass!"
Me to A: "OK I'll get right on that. I will put it on my to do list. Right under "Go to the gyne for no reason whatsoever."

Me to Sean - "Why are all the lesbian supervisors on the floor named Chris?"
Sean to Me - "Why do I see them all at Riverside?"

Old annoying lady who works part time has a question to ask me. As she's walking into my cubicle I fart.
I grab my FeBreeze can and whip around in my chair and spray. Old bag is taken aback and jumps backwards.
Me to Old Bag - "Sorry. I just farted."
Old Bag to Me - "Oh that's OK I take this cholesterol medicine......."
Me to Old Bag - "OK stop, this is getting to a TMI level."

Me to Sean - "Just because you can pro-create doesn't mean you should."

Me to Manager - "The whole time we were sitting in that meeting I couldn't stop thinking to myself "I wonder how much Ritalin he took as a child?"

Ahh the reason for today's photo attachment (beside it just being fucking gross!):
Aa tells me that I need to appreciate him more or some shit like that after he "did me a favor" I email him the photo on today's blog.
A to Me: JESUS.........Have you considered hitting the Gym?
Me to A: U liked it and u know it.
A to Me: Yep, definitely going to tuck that one away in the old spank bank.......

Walking around with a frosted glass full of iced tea:
Executive to Me - "Amanda is that a beer?"
Me to Executive - "Yes it is. I will share if you don't tell on me."

There are too many more to list and I want to save some of them for a non-creative writer type of day. So that's all she wrote! Have a great evening!

A teaser of things to come...

I just have to start blogging - that's all there is to it. I see tooo much fucked up shit on a daily basis not to.


I mean the goofiest shit. Probably because I drive through Downtown Kittanning on a daily basis, that seems

to have something to do with it. But then I am in another town and see even more messed up stuff.

Let's start with Monday. I fortunately, for your reading pleasure, ignored my son's request for Foxes Pizza. Main reason for that was my holy shit weight gain while on vacation. We pull up to a stop sign and I see these 3 adults and like 2 kids I think. Anyways the adults are walking arm in arm, like they are sharing the love or something. Then I look at the chick in the middle. SHE WAS SO MESSED UP THEY WERE HOLDING HER UP! IDK if she was drugged up or drunk but regardless IT IS 6 PM!!!! Wow. I seriously just stared at her in disbelief. I mean what is she going to do? Try and run after my car or something, she can't even stand up on her own. Jeez.

After this sighting I drive 2 blocks and see 3 men walking. 2 are almost beside one another and 1 is trailing behind. Ahh, the black wrestling tee shirt - a typical uniform for an Armstrong County male walking the streets of Kittanning. BUT WAIT! Why is he wearing a yellow scarf? It's like 90 some freaking degrees! OH MY GOD IT ISN'T A YELLOW SCARF it's a god damn snake! Like a boa snake. Like a 6 foot long 100+ pound snake. WHAT THE FUCK! I frantically dig for a camera in my purse - NOTHING! Shit, I left it on my kitchen table, will my cell phone work instead? No, it sucks (mental note to get a Droid with a 8mp in it for moments like this). Had I had my camera I would have made the guy pose and take his picture. Again, he can't run after me, hell he can't even keep up with his friends walking because of the extra weight he is carrying. I immediately thought the guy was headed to The County Seat and thought of bad jokes like "So this guy walks into a bar with a big ass snake around him." My son says "Mom is that a real snake?" I reply "Oddly enough, yes it is."

This is my teaser for my blog. I have MANY stories to tell (none of Tucker Max quality but still pretty damn funny).

Follow me....I am vulgar and am going to blog like I speak. Some stories may be long - some may be a 3 sentence conversation, who knows - depends on my mood or what I may see that day.

Here's a little bit of info about myself:

- I am 35 years old. I tell people I am 28. This pisses my younger sister off. I find it hilarious and do this in front of her as much as possible.

- When my elementary school teacher asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up I sure as shit didn't say a fucking customer service representative! WTF!

- I am married to a man 12 years older than me. He cannot spell. He is my total opposite. I call him by his first and last name when I speak of him but am not sure why.

- I have a son - he is the most amazing kid in the whole wide world. I know every mother thinks this but those that know my child love him and his personality. The kid loves Abraham Lincoln, Def Leppard and collects Civil War Bullets. How cool is he?

- I just had my mouth hanging open when I was typing and just drooled down the front of my shirt. WTF is that about?

- I like to spend money which is why I never have any.

- I love to party. I love to party. I love to party. Tequila is my mexican lover.

- I am obsessed with Facebook, running, cookbooks, Betseyville purses, good food and music. Country music blows.

- The first thing I notice when meeting someone is their eyebrows. Old man eyebrows put me over the edge.

- If you have something stuck in your teeth or your tag is hanging out the back of your shirt I will tell you and/or fix your tag. If I do not like you I will not. This is how one can tell how many friends they have at work - if they go home and their tag is hanging out the back of your shirt this means you have no friends at work. That simple. That true.

- I had a normal childhood! My parents are married, I have a sister, cookie cutter family. Nothing too wacked or goofy.

- I am a former fatty. This means that I used to weigh over 300 lbs. Now I don't. I did it the old fashioned way of diet and exercise. NOTHING PISSES ME OFF MORE when someone says: 1. Did you have surgery? 2. Are you sick? These are the 2 worst things to ever say to me. I want to punch people in the face when they say this to me. They have NO IDEA the work that was put into my success to say those 2 things to me. I have ninja fighting skills and are not afraid to use them.

There ya have it - love it or leave it.

The reason for my blog name "Drunk Trashy Martha":
I love Martha Stewart, I don't give a shit about her being in that cupcake jail bull shit, she's one smart woman that I am envious of. But Martha is a little bit of a bore don't ya think? I mean she throws dinner parties for a good time. I THROW BACK tequila. You can dress me up, take me out but I am the most comfortable being wild and crazy drinking and carrying on. Martha and me are damn good cooks - yes I can put that in a sentence, it is true. Martha started as a cateerer. I went to cateering school. Martha however uses cheese I can't name in her recipes, ingredients that I sure as hell can't buy at the local "SCARY STORE" (more on that another time). My recipes are cream cheese, dried beef, sour cream and tortilla shells. This is what makes me drunk, trashy Martha.

Enjoy! Plenty more to come!