I tried taking art classes because my dad is a brilliant artist, and naturally, I got my mom’s skills when it comes to anything even remotely close to art. When I was in 4th grade, we had to do a drawing to illustrate the parts of an ear. I couldn’t even trace it properly. As in, the picture was there, in great detail in my book and I couldn’t trace it to save my life.
So my dad saved my grade by doing it helping me.
In 8th grade, we were reading the Hobbit and we had an assignment to illustrate a scene. Excuse me, but isn’t this English class? Can’t I just write about it? No, I have to draw something? OK, sure.
Superdad to the rescue!
Of course, because my dad worked on the drawing late at night, with a cigarette permanently attached to his lips, my notebooks smelled like smoke. The next day, when I opened my backpack in English class, my teacher approaced me and asked me if I was smoking cigarettes.
“N–no. My parents smoke and, and, my dad borrowed my notebook.”
So now there’s this game that everyone is playing. The premise is to draw something and have your friends guess what the word is.
No. I will play Words with Friends until I’m dreaming about it (May or may not have happened) but any game that requires me to actually draw and do it on my tiny iPod screen?
I have enough confidence issues. The last thing I need is a game that is designed to make me feel like a failure.
No, you guys go on and get your drawings on. Also, don’t invite me to any game nights that consist purely of games that require me to draw and/or mold something out of clay.
You know what I’ll do if I’m at a game night with Pictionary as the main game?
I’ll take pictures. (Yes, this is a shameless plug for my Etsy shop, which is now back up and will have new pictures added.)
That’s the extent of my artistic ability because if my hand happens to shake, or I get a crooked picture, I might still be able to make something of it.
Hi. My name is Peter. I write things. I am currently on a guest-blogging tour. DC PrincessQ offered to let me post on her blog. Mwahahahaaa hee hee. I asked for a writing prompt. She said, “Penguin Posse.” Well played. This is what I came up with…
“We need to be there by 3:30”
“What?” “My flight leaves at 6 a.m. WE NEED TO BE THERE BY 3:30 a.m.”
I am a panicky traveler. In my defense, this will only be my third domestic flight and all of my travel has been international, which DOES require me to get there super early to check in & make it through the loving hands of TSA before hauling ass to the other end of the airport.
Don’t even get me started on layovers.
I start having panic attacks about my flight the week before.
What if I’m late to the airport?
What if I don’t make it through security?
OHMYGOD, WHAT IF I DON’T PACK ENOUGH CLOTHES?
Did I mention I overpack? Because I never know when I’m going to need all that underwear and sweaters and 6 pairs of jeans during a WEEKEND TRIP. I am pretty accident prone so I could potentially ruin 6 pairs of jeans within 48 hours.
It could happen. One day. So I have to be prepared! You know the first time I don’t over-pack, I will have accidents, and have to buy awful awful clothes because naturally, my destination will not have a mall. YOU JUST WATCH.
I also don’t sleep on flights. I used to go through 3 books a flight when I traveled to Turkey. I don’t like surprises and being caught off guard. I could miss my stop, because you know, flights are like metro rides. You sleep through your stop and you’re screwed!
I hate being late. HATE IT. When I was in high school, my digital watch (I was so hip!) was synchronized with the school bell, TO THE SECOND. 10 seconds before the bell rang, I would be ready to leave my desk (If the teacher was finished of course). So you can imagine how this neurosis contributes to my travel habits.
At 5:45 a.m. on Thursday, I will be getting on my flight that will take me down to Atlanta before all the way across the country to Seattle (That’s what happens when you book a flight using SkyMiles. You gotta go down to go up and over). Let’s talk about how I’ve never been on the west coast and I am freaking out because I have this weird fear that the time difference is going to screw me up so bad that I don’t actually make it to Seattle.
The good thing is that this is all worth it because once I do make it to Seattle to spend the weekend with one of my best friends (aka future bridesmaid), IT WILL BE AMAZING. Not just because she’s awesome and I love her but because it is SEATTLE.
And she’s going to take me to the FIRST STARBUCKS. I AM PUMPED. We have an entire day of touristy stuff planned for Friday, an awesome drive & a fantastic party on Saturday. I can’t even explain how excited I am, because I’ll just spew GLITTER ALL OVER THIS BLOG!
What kind of traveler are you?
Don’t forget to stop by and ‘Like’ my blog page on Facebook please! Even when I don’t post blogs, I share fun stuff on there 🙂 If you have a blog page, drop your link on the comments and I’ll make sure I ‘Like’ it on FB too!
I could tell you how AMAZING the She & Him concert was last night at the 9:30 club (And I will, another time) but I would like to share with you something that was so unexpected, I am not sure if it’s good or bad that Rebecca was there to witness it first hand.
We get out of the 9:30 Club and make our way to the U Street metro. On the way, I am naturally talking to Rebecca and texting the Boy to come pick me up when out of NOWHERE (or you know, middle of the sidewalk) comes a pole and hits me in the face.
As in, I WALKED HEADFIRST INTO A POLE.
And I was SOBER.
I kid you not.
I couldn’t stop laughing as I felt the bump grew on my forehead. Every 2 minutes, Rebecca busted out laughing and kept saying “I cannot believe you just walked into a pole. WHO DOES THAT?”
Well ladies and gents, I do.
Good news is that the bump that was growing on my forehead was taken care of with ice and anti-inflammatory pills last night. The bruise on my leg is another story…
“We should totally get bikes.”
“Yes. It’s healthy!”
“Not if there are drivers like you out on the road.”
“But they have bike lanes.” *sideeye* “How about a Vespa? *beep beep*”
“I’m done with you.”
“Can I call in dead?”
“Aww baby. No.”
*later in the shower*
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Yup. Or I’ll just cut off your balls. Yup. Tomorrow, your balls go BYE-BYE”
For some reason, this made him crack up which led to us laughing for a good 2 minutes. When he mimicked the way I said “Bye-bye”, I followed that with:
“Yup. Practice sounding like that since you can’t sound manly with your balls cut off.”
Clearly, cohabitating has brought our relationship to a new level.
It’s had its ups and downs. It’s a HUGE change. We’re working through it. Though I will say that I am about ready to knock out our downstairs neighbor because he plays music ALL the time and is home at whack hours so I have to turn up my TV super loud when I’m trying to get my Supernatural fix after work and he’s blasting music.
Also, I have been totally out of whack lately for a variety of reasons:
1) I’m LIVING WITH A BOY.
2) It is WAY too hot in DC.
3) I should be poolside with my girls right NOW.
4) Birth Control. Hormones. OUT OF CONTROL EMOTIONS.
5) I’ve given up soda and Starbucks. AT THE SAME TIME.
Oh and my phone number has changed. Holla if you don’t have the new one.
I promise you’ll be the first to know when I can write a coherent blog post again.
On Saturday, a group of us went to Sticky Rice for dinner. I’d never used chopsticks and I was too embarassed to ask for a fork so I figured it was a good time to learn! There were 4 different people making suggestions on how I should do it but I finally grabbed them the right way* and picked up a pot sticker! And brought it to my mouth!** The only thing that bothered me was the fact that my hand isn’t used to being in that position for too long so it started to hurt after a while but I was even able to pick up rice with the chop sticks! That was a major win for me because I’m pretty damn uncoordinated!
After dinner, we went to the Pug for a drink (after standing around talking on the sidewalk for a good half hour), and then stood around for another good 20 minutes before we headed home for the night to watch “The Invention of Lying”…which was pretty damn good!
Sunday was a little hectic…but I’ve started house sitting for a friend so I have a quiet apartment for myself for the next week or so. It’s gonna be niiiiiiiice. Her apartment building is gorgeous and minutes from Old Town…it’s one of the places I’m looking at for my move in June once my lease is up. (Holy crap, it’s almost been a year since I moved out!)
Going backwards, Thursday night was the Jeff Dunham show at the Verizon Center…the best part of the show had to be Guitar Guy***…because let’s face it…even though the tour is “Identity Crisis”, Jeff D. is having more of a mid-life crisis in those leather pants *shudder*. It was still a fun date night for me and the Boy…I’m really glad I bought those tickets when I did! (Speaking of date nights and laughter, check out today’s article over at my Examiner page)
PS: The song of the day is:
How was your weekend? Did you see a new movie? Do anything fun? What’s your song of the day?
We’d like to welcome you all to the carnival…er…The First PQ Nation Comedy Roast, in honor of the PQ’s first blogaversary…365 whole days of insanity…right here. You will hear from Pecosa, Squish and Miss Wicked…and then, as a special treat…You will see the world premier appearance of the DC Princess on video in this very blog! Hold on tight…Because the ride is about to begin!
Please welcome Pecosa to the stage:
So we’re celebrating PQ’s Nation being around for a full 365 days…congrats ma! I didn’t think your A.D.D. would let you make it through the shiny, glittery designs…butterfly!!!
PQ and I go back to the times when Myspace was cool, Tom was hot and the bitch was FIRST!!! on every g-damned blog. Seriously, you could not open a blog without her ass boobs already there proclaiming the ever coveted “FIRST, BITCHES!!!” comment. It’s not that much different now except that instead of just blogging with the cool crowd, she’s drinking with them…and then tweeting about it.
Yes, she’s also on twitter, and facebook, and linkedin, and tumblr and every other damn networking site you can think of. Oh yes, this girl gets around, and around, and around! And I’m not just talking about the interwebz, right toots? *winkwink*
Speaking of whoring around…ahem…Wicked? Oh yes ma, I’m talking to you with your fuck-me-pumps and innocent looking stares. I’m 99% sure it was this girl’s doing that the site got blocked at work. First as adult language, which might have been PQ’s doing with her thumper escapades and van stories, but then it was straight out telling me “no, you can’t access this site at work you freak, it’s PORN”. Yes doll, your detailed stories about you and D are categorized as porn and I’m 100% sure you’re proud!
I think once Jamie started blogging about her love for cereal it short circuited the filters because voila! The site was accessible once again. This girl leveled out the oversexed duo that is PQ & Wicked with her stories about living with her grandma, gaming, TV and her love for Fluff.
We are one crazy, hormonal, emotional and bitchy group of women and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I mean, where else can you go to get free porn, emotional roller coasters and TV listings all in one place? That’s right, the local XXX store, oh wait… Hey, but at least here you don’t have to worry about getting sticky! Unless you happen to eat some Fluff…
Thank you Pecosa…Up next…We have the one, the only…Squish!
Holy Motherfuckin’ One Year Anniversary, Batman…
How have we not been taken apart by the government yet? I’m sure we’ve got to be on more than one list… Just from the shit we google for pics to put in these bits of nonsense… Speaking of nonsense…
How do we still have readers? Aren’t you people bored yet?
Let me sum it up for you:
Tricky’s got issues. If ever there was a lady you should think twice before saying anything to at the grocery store, this would be her. Betcha dollars to donuts she sits in the dark, tearing paper into itty bitty pieces while she thinks out her blogs. I.S.S.U.E.S.
Jamie COLORS. Really. With crayolas. Who does that after they hit seven years old? Sometimes she posts pictures too… but not of things she’s colored. Which, really, makes no sense. Harry Potter/Twilight Flash Art doesn’t count as coloring. PICK A DIRECTION…A THEME…SOMETHING. GAWD.
Wicked…Ms. WickedCourtni would probably be at the tippy top of whatever list we’re on… except that she’s OMGMARRIEDYOUGUYS. AND she procreated already. TWICE. only… wait… someone cover her ears…are we good? are they covered?
COURTNI I SAID EARMUFFS, BITCH. EARMUFFS.
SHE’S MARRIED TO A BLACK MAN! I know. I know. Whatever has become of our world…our great nation? I weep as well, dear reader…I weep as well.
Rosie is as Rosie does…which is what, again, exactly? It’s probably best to quote here… *Ahem* “fucking awesome”…”a sweetheart”…”pretty fucking hot”…”a dance machine”…and SOMETIMES…”Dramatic.” I think that about covers that.
Our newest member…Just A Girl. You know…I don’t know her well enough to talk about her like this. So I’ll address her directly….
Honey – quit lyin to yourself. Ain’t no “girl” ever in the history of girls who talks about poop NEARLY as much as this “Just a Girl” character you’ve dreamed up. (And I would know, being that I am a fictional Asian Queen from Portland, myself.) Be honest, dear. You’re among…friends…yeah, friends… here. You’re a man aren’t you? That’s why you really can’t hold onto those boy crushes Courtni mentioned… IT’S CAUSE YOU ARE ONE. I knew it. “Just a Girl” my ass.
Oohhhhhhh and then….
Then there is our fearless leader. Who calls herself “princess.” Seriously? I didn’t know grown-ass women actually embraced that title. But then again…she also likes Twilight. /shrug. But really, between the boy drama and the family drama and the internet-stalker-don’t-you-ever-use-my-real-name-drama and the …well, you get the picture… One would think she would realize she’d graduated to full blown Drama Queen by now…
But really…who the hell am I to talk? Oh, right… the one who realized I had to grow up…
or did I? Maybe *I* am Just A Girl? Or maybe I really did leave for good and – for whatever reason – they felt nostalgic as this one year anniversary approached and wanted me with them.
Cause, really, as bitchy and snarky and egotistical and crazy and AWESOME as we all are… we are family here. And I couldn’t have chosen a better one to be a part of…in whatever incarnation for whatever length of time. And seriously, readers, you couldn’t pick better blogs to read or people to know.
It’s been one hell of a year… and an honor, ladies. I’ll take twenty more. Plz&thx.
And last but certainly not least…The Wicked Bitch of the West…
The last thing I would have ever expected was for PQNation to last a whole year. That’s 363 days longer than Just a Girl has had held on to a boy crush. Isn’t that right sweetheart?
I love that Tricky AND Squish are the rantiest bitches on the planet. I mean, if you want to scream ”HELL NO WE WONT ____”, subscribe to their blog. They got shit to bitch about, and they aren’t afraid to do it. It is cool to love stuff too you know. I promise.
Seriously though, being the only married and proper lady in this group of hoebags, it is hard to believe some of the things I read on their respective blogs. I mean I am almost positive that Jamie’s obsession with all things Harry Potter had us blackballed on Google altogether. That and the restraining order… Lets give it a rest, K Jamie?
Speaking of obsessions? PQ seems to change her latest ‘guilty pleasures’ more often than she does her granny panties. From Heroes to House … Twilight to Tumblr to The Pussycat Dolls … give me a break. I can’t keep up with her list of things she is obsessed with anymore than I can keep up with HER list of boys. (yeah Just a Girl isn’t the only fickle beezo on this website) Although, I would love it if she kicked Matt … or is it Mike… to the fucking curb already. More important than kicking Martin to the curb is that PQ is the self proclaimed DC Princess. Actually, pretty much everything she says is her mantra is “self proclaimed.” Conceited much?
Thank goodness for the fact that she isn’t the most conceited person on our site. Rosie is the Princess of FullofHerself. I wonder if she kisses herself in the mirror every morning before she walks out the door. I wonder if she is still single because she prefers fucking herself over someone not as worthy.
Really though, I love my bitches. Restraining orders, guilty pleasures … and the plethora of boy toys. I couldn’t ask for a better, more dysfunctionally loving group to be a part of.
Cheers to another eleventy million years of successes.
*sigh* See what I have to put up with?
And…I have no idea who gave me a webcam. Seriously. This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done but it’s all for you guys…Before you click play, keep these things in mind:
1) It is my first video EVER so I’m nervous (That’s what Paris Hilton said)
2) It was after midnight when I recorded this, after 2 failed attempts because I couldn’t figure out the stupid microphone.
3) I get rambly when I’m nervous.
4) I didn’t have a script. I should’ve had a stupid script.
5) I clearly forgot my own name. That’s why I said it twenty times in 7 minutes. To remind myself.
Oh and if you can’t see the video or you fell asleep in the first 3 minutes…I gave a shout out to f.B., who is also celebrating his One Year today…so go show him love!
(Since my headache is unbearable today, I’m bringing you a repost from 2008…)
“OH MY GOD! SOMETHING’S MOVING!” My brother screeched in the darkness. We were in my cousin’s basement playing XBox 360 at 3 in the morning. All of us jumped up on our respective couches and the game was paused.
“Adam, TURN ON THE LIGHT!” I yelled. I was too far and there was no way I was risking something crawling on my feet or even worse, stepping on a spider BAREFOOT in the darkness. No sir.
“You do it!”
“No, you’re closer! And stop yelling! Sarah’s sleeping” Which was a stupid thing to say considering the game was louder as a result of my cousin’s surround sound and our screeching probably sounded like flies whizzing around compared to the game.
In the dark basement illuminated only by the big screen TV, I saw my cousin doing a split with one foot on the couch and the other reaching for the stationary bike while his arm reached for the light switch. Meanwhile, my brother was whimpering and looking on the ground, as if the second the light was turned on, a 6 foot tarantula would appear and grab his pee-pee. As the light went on, I heard him scream “IT’S MOVING!”
I looked down to see a centipede racing under the couch that my cousin now had his entire body on.
“Where’d it go?”
“Under your couch! IT’S GONNA COME ON YOUR FOOT”
At this point, I could’ve just gotten a shoe and waited for the centipede to come out but this was more fun to watch. I just sat on my couch and watched the two idiots that are somehow related to me argue over who was going to kill it.
“You do it. You’re closer” my brother ordered my cousin.
“No. Fine. Give me something so I can hit it.”
“I’m not moving”
At this point, they’ve completely forgotten about me.
“OH MY GOD, IT’S OUT!”
“OK. OK. I’ll…I’ll get the trash can!”
“Hurry!” My cousin heroically jumped off the couch, grabbed the trash can and threw it on the centipede from 5 feet away. At this point, I can’t stop giggling.
“Is it dead?”
“Watch the trash can start moving” I said between giggles, which caused my cousin to jump back on his couch.
“OK. How about one of us lifts the trash can and the other hits it with a shoe?”
“OK. Go get a shoe” My cousin went to grab my brother’s shoe and for the next 45 seconds, they argued over who would lift the can and who would hit it. Logically, since my cousin was the braver of the two the first time around, it was my brother’s turn to hit the centipede. A full 5 minutes had passed since my brother’s first screech and at this point, I couldn’t stop laughing with my feet firmly planted on my couch, thank you very much.
“OK. I’m going to lift it and just hit it right then.”
“OK. Hurry up” my brother whimpered. My cousin walked as far away as his arm’s reach would allow him and lifted the trash can. My brother, shoe in hand started backing up with his arms flailing as he screamed “IT’S MOVING”. He threw the shoe at the centipede from 5 feet away and ran back to his chair.
“Is it dead?”
At this point, I HAD to jump into action.
“Oh for fuck’s sake. Just lift the shoe.”
“You do it”
“OK. Fine.” I lifted the shoe to find the centipede busted in half. “THE FEET ARE MOVING” my brother yelled from his chair.
“Oh my god, it’s gonna get you!” I giggled as I hit the feet to make them stop moving.
My cousin handed me a bundle of napkins to pick up the inch-long centipede and he went to flush it down the toilet.
For the rest of the night, our feet were firmly planted under our asses and once in a while, in the middle of the game, I’d whisper “Is something on your leg?!” to see them squirm and freak out.
Did I mention these manly men were 16 and 26 years old?
Those girls are HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Douchebags all across the club
Ladies’ night straight poppin’ the bub
Stalker eyes right above his drink
Cheese-dick style, with a shoot and wink
Snatch the ring from its hiding place
Flip the bird right in your face
Leave the bar, to escape your glance
Cross the room, now its time to dance
You sneak behind, don’t mind, I guess
Until your dongs on my cocktail dress
Cold as ice, yet you advance
And say you might, jizz in your pants
and I PUKE IN MY MOUTH
Swallow it back, I need some room
Plus I said Ive got a groom
I turn away, you start to pout
AND I PUKE IN MY MOUTH
You ruined my night, esophagus hurts,
Take a hint, Im not here to flirt
Round up the girls, its time bounce
Now I’ll go brush my teeth
I’m 15 late for my Yoga class
Kick through the door, now I’m up in that ass
Find a spot, last in the room
Focus, breathe, now its time to ohhhhmmmm
Thats when I noticed this guy behind me
Quite a big smell from a guy so tiny
Pit-stained T-shirt drenched in sweat
O-face grin, bad as it gets
He made a grunt, then his body turned
Saw up his shorts to his inner-thigh perm
AND I PUKED IN MY MOUTH
Upside-down, so it’s even worse
Son of Shiva, what a curly curse
Help me please, I could use a towel cause I
PUKED IN MY MOUTH
Why are there dudes up in Yoga class?
Nonchalant, looking at my chest
Please stop staring when I’m on my knees
Plus bearded men shouldn’t wear capris
Last week, I was on a site
As I recall, it was a Facebook site
In my bed with a piece of toast
Checked my wall and saw your post and I
PUKE IN MY MOUTH
Soaking in the tub like a f***ing queen
Need to relax, need to feel the steam
A bubble comes up that reminds me of you and I
PUKE IN MY MOUTH
The next day, I put on jeans and PUKED IN MY MOUTH
I opened the fridge and a fruit rolled out, I PUKED IN MY MOUTH
When I saw Tom Cruise in Valkyrie I PUKED IN MY MOUTH
I drank a Kombucha and I PUKED IN MY MOUTH
I just felt PUKE IN MY MOUTH
I puke right in my mouth, every time you’re next to me
And when you spit your game, it’s like a train wreck to me
You’re such a royal douche, I don’t know why you step to me
Forget a rubber, you should go get a vasectomy
PUKE IN MY MOUTH…