It's raining cats and dogs. And rain. Minus the cats and dogs.

That's right. Atlanta is getting soaked. I love the rain, mostly because it cools everything off. I get really pissy when I'm too hot. It makes me lazy, too. And feel all gross and sticky. When I'm too cold, however, it motivates me to get up off my ass (until I find a big, fluffy blanket and a giant sweater that is in no way attractive but is so comfortable I don't give a shit, and then snuggle up with Lucy and nap).

And there's your Atlanta weather report.

In other news, work has been interesting as of late. It's great, because work is always going to be interesting. It's owned/run by open-minded, easy going, unconventional people, and they're all stellar. I take for granted the fact that I don't have to worry about saying, "shit!" if I drop something on my foot, and that I can bring my 130 lbs Great Dane to work to play with the owners' basset hounds, and that everyone here (well, the Fab 5 at least) supports and encourages everyone else. Plus, the damn place is a zoo, and there's always something going on at the complex.

All of this hilarity is creatively motivating for me. I haven't been painting as much anymore, but I have been trying to sketch and play with color and all that nonsense. And when I say "nonsense," I really mean it. My random little doodles are in no way the work of... well... I wanted to say "a master", but they're really not even student-caliber.

Despite the amateur nature of my little doodles, they're occasionally amusing. So it was no surprise the other day when I had a spark of inspiration, and grabbed my pen for a 5 minute sketch break.

What happened next was terrifying. For some reason, what I imagined in my head was WAY less bizarre and creepy when in my head than it was once on paper. I swear to god that there's a story surrounding this, um, thing. But that's not important. What is important, is that you say hello to MissBeard.

The Wii fit is a judgmental bastard.

People are so weird. I know this, because I often feel even more strange than the people I interact with. 

What are some of the bizarre things you think that you choose not to say aloud? You can comment anonymously if you feel awkward about it. Or shy. Or are planning to take over the world and would rather not be found out by the government (because those fuckers totally monitor this blog, due to it's insane abundance of pertinent information). 

There's a fun new post coming soon (that's called a teaser). Until then, I'm going to wait for comments and post the most awesome one. Bring it, bitches. Xoxo

When did it get so fucking cold?

I love the cold. Love it. I would rather be freezing, in Siberia wearing a tank top and bikini bottoms, 2 minutes from a cold-induced coma leading to death, than just the tiniest bit too warm.

That being said, holy hell is it freezing right now! It may be because I'm sitting in the squid room, or because I'm wearing a tank top, or because I'm wearing a hat made of ice cubes, but regardless, I am uncomfortably cold (I didn't think that was possible).

I'm going to go make a casserole, or something. In the meantime, have a panoramic view of the squid room (though it's a mess at the moment, and covered in cardboard and art supplies because I'm making decorations for a friend's zombie party this weekend).

SQUID ROOM!

Fucking 3am

"Why do you stay up all night and drink whiskey if you have work at 9am and then have class until 10pm?"

"I'm an insomniac. And I forgot to buy ice cream. Shove off."

Note to Future Lindsey:
After class tomorrow, but before passing out with the dogs on the amazing rug in the living room that you nabbed for $40 marked down from $155 because the dumb bastards at Ikea don't know how to use stain remover, stop at the 24 hour Kroger and buy some fucking cookie dough ice cream. And milk.* And maybe some Tylenol PM.

Goodnight to those who sleep. And by "good", I mean "shit" because I'm totally jealous moody due to lack of sleep and ice cream (not in that order).

*Also, get some more Eukanuba for the beasts. And some juice. And cheese (American and parm). And see if you can find someone to take your card and get a can of Bali Shag while you're at work tomorrow. /to-do list

Holy Mary mother of god, Grandpa's on the hobby horse again.

Actually, those are song lyrics. I have no idea if my gramps is on a horse, hobby or otherwise. I do know that it has been one hell of a week. I also know that I just spent 3 minutes of my life trying to inform my phone that I was TRYING to say "hell", not he'll. I'm cursing on purpose, phone. Stop trying to censor me. Damn it.

I am just posting quickly to say that no, I did not forget/abandon/choose to shun (Amish-style)/ regret and delete this blog. I'm just bring pissy and lazy, and shirking my prior interests. And while none of those things usually happen, minus the pissy/lazy bit, they seem to be out in full force lately. I'll be sure to inform you of the insanity as soon as I can figure out how to do so without inadvertently forcing you to attend my pity party. Though if you want to come, it's byob because I'm broke, and you ought to bring your own cheese, because I barely have enough for my own whine.

Cake is only awesome when it has chocolate frosting.

At work, every day, I pick up the phone to make a call and hear a dial tone. Then, in my head, I hear, "I need your arms around me, I need to feel your touch." Then the bass kicks in. And then I find myself listening to that Cake song, against my will, in my OWN head.

And now I want cake, too. Thanks a lot, Cake the Band (because I would never talk trash about Cake the Amazing Dessert I Love Even Though it'll Make Me A Fattie Fat Fattie). Jerks. I hope you break up, and have to work at McDonalds asking people to biggie size things in monotone.