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Sunday, September 4, 2011

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Sunday Hobo Post

And this is why I hate my neighbor's dogs.

Click HERE and enjoy.

I'm fucking going to sleep.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Aimless wanderings and pointless musings

For fuck's sake, please come over HERE and comment some funny shit, cause I'm bored out of my skull.

The challenge is on, my Bloggy friends!

Fuck You Friday is in full swing! Let's show the blogger world what's what!!!

Monday, August 8, 2011

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Tales from my time as a Wee Sprout

Care to get to know the Wee Tazer? Well I've got a treat for you!

Tales from my time as a Wee Sprout

And as always, thanks for reading!

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

A very special little snowflake

Read here for my latest rant/diatribe. Enjoy, and thanks for reading!

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Monday, July 18, 2011

Moving host sites

Well, kids, I've been pissed off at Blogspot from day 1 for not letting me copy/paste posts from Word, so I found Wordpress.com and I'm mighty impressed. I hope a few of you viewers follow me over, cause I love y'all (peep love, holla!), but... I understand if you don't. But, the new forum is far more customizable and I love it.... I've got some popsicles! bwhahaha!

Visit me now at tazerwarriorprincess@wordpress.com

I'll keep double posting here for a while, hopefully y'all will catch up with me.

Kisses,
TAZ

Sunday, July 17, 2011

A day in the life of a sadistic sociopathic retarded dog named Cyrus

OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD WAKE UP MOMMY WAKE UP MOMMY IT'S MORNING CAN'T YOU GET UP LOOK AT THE SUN IT'S SO PRETTY LET'S GET UP GET UP GET UP GET UP GET UP!

*stomps on my head, repeatedly*
*uses all 90# of his weight on my stomach*

WAAAAAAAAAKE UUUUUUP!

*headbutts me*
*I get up*

Ohmygodohmygod you're awake! Let's play! BARK! BARK! BARK!
*runs franticly in circles like a fly with one wing*


Oh you're taking a shower?! How dare you! I'm going to pull the curtain back so I can SEEEEE YOUUUU! Ooo water on the floor! Hi! What are you doing?! You're all wet! I lick your leg! LICK!
WHAT IS THAT AWESOME NOISE IS THAT THE BLOW DRYER OH MY GOD I LOVE THE BLOW DRYER I LOVE IT I LOVE IT I LOVE IT!
*sits on my feet and pushes me over*

What?!?! You're leaving?! Without me!? Pout... Sad.....



Oh... well... Mommy's gone. Now what?!

*beats up his sister*
*chases the cat*



Oooo *sniff* what's that in that locked cupboard there? Uncooked rice! WHEEE!!! OMMNOMMNOMMNOMMM

*BUUUUUURP* Wow a few pounds of rice were just what I needed!!!!!

What's that over there?! Mommy's bookcase!!! Dessert!!! YEEHAW!!!! *eats 3 books*

I DON'T FEEL GOOD......

*sharts all over the carpet*
*pukes in the living room*
*explosive diarrhea in the kitchen*

OHMYGOD IS THAT MOMMY'S CAR IT'S MOMMY'S CAR SHE'S BACK SHE'S BACK SHE'S BACK SHE'S BACK!!!

Oh... wait... I shat all over the house..... *runs and hides*

Me: WHAT THE FUCKING HELL HAPPENED IN HERE!??!?!?!?!??!?!

*slinks back in the room*
*wags tail pathetically*
*forgets why he's slinking*

OHMYGOD YOUR'E HOME YOU'RE HOME FEED ME!!!! FEEEEEEDDDDD MMEEEEEE!!!! I'M DYING OF STARVATION!!! I JUST SHIT OUT ALL THE RICE I ATE SO I'M HUUUUUUNNNGRYYYY!!!!!

FEEDMERIGHTNOWI'MDYINGOFSTARVATIONIFYOUDON'TFEEDMERIGHTNOWIWILLDIEEEEE!!!!!!!!

(Side note: you know how those fucking dog trainers tell you to ignore your dog when he's doing something wrong, and he'll stop doing it? Riiiiiiight....)

*feeds the dogs*

LOOK!!! THE GUY FOUR HOUSES DOWN IS WASHING HIS CAR!!! I NEED TO EAT HIM!!! WHY ARE YOU WASHING YOUR CAR FOUR HOUSES AWAY FROM ME!!!???!!! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK!

*ring ring... phone call*

BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! YOU'RE TALKING TO ME!!! HIII!!! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK!  HIIIIIII!!! WHY DON'T YOU LOVE ME!?! BARK! BARK! BARK! I THOUGHT YOU WERE TALKING TO MEEEEEEE!!!! WHY ARE YOU LOCKING ME IN THE BACK BEDROOM.... BARK! BARK! BARK! WHINE! WHINE! CRY! CRY!

Oh man, what a day!!! I'm pooped (hehehe)!!!!

*forcibly climbs ON me in the recliner, making sure to leverage all of his ninety pounds by stepping on every tender bit of my body, and promptly falls asleep*



SNOOORREEEE.... SNORRREEEEEE... TWITCH TWITCH RUNRUNRUN WHIMPER CRY WHINE SQUEAL KICK KICK SNUFFLE SIGH...... SNOREEEEE.... SNORRREEEEEE....

And that, y'all, is why I believe my dog is certifiably insane.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Aquariums aren't just for anklebiters

Holy freaking balls, y'all. Aquariums fucking rock. Especially the Monterey Bay Aquarium.

We went on a goddamn adventure today, yo, meeting up with some peeps from New York and generally ruining the awesome atmosphere in Monterey. Fuck, y'all, I OWNED that place.

First off, I haven't been to the Monterey Bay Aquarium since I was a wee little snot-rag of about 5 years old. So... it's all brand-fucking-new to me. It's like releasing an over-sized, over-boozed 5 year old to wreak havoc among the masses.

Beautiful day, in all seriousness. It's usually much colder on the Coast, so a 75*, almost windless day was aaaahmazing.

There's really not much to tell at this point, so I'll saturate y'all with some motherfucking pictures.

Jellyfish, YO!

HIGH FIVE TURTLE! YAAA!


MOOOOAR TURTLE!!

Awesome pic, BFD (Best Friend Dude)'s hand in there...

Motherfucking ZOMBIE FISH!

Awesome outfit (yes those are Vibrams)

Poky Crabs... Oh NOOO!!

And then... I got bored. The fucking anklebiter little shit heads kept running into Zombie Foot, pushing my cripple ass out of the way, and generally causing (unpleasant) mayhem and madness. So, I played dirty.

One little snot decided to SHOVE BFD out of the way to look at seahorses. So... in a wildly inappropriate moment, I told the little bugger "HEY! You DON'T just shove people out of the way"... jerk says "Wuhellll... I SAID exchuuuuse me!"... er... right.... Cue the "I'm an adult goddamnit go find your spawn-mother and make her control you" face. I swear that kid will never shove someone again in his poor, sad little life.

I had to restrain myself when at the stingray pool. You can pet stingrays!!!! It's amazing!!! But, I had to fight off rabid packs of little buttmunches pushing and shoving in front of people waiting, and their self-centered parents pushing Stroller-Mobiles the size of a goddamn Honda Civic right into you. One kid decided "HEY! I'M A PSYCHOTIC KID! I THINK IN CAPS LOCK! I'M GOING TO CRAWL UP ON THE EDGE OF THIS POOL FILLED WITH FUCKING STING RAYS AND STICK BOTH ARMS IN THE POOL! LOOK AT ME! YOU SHOULD KNEE ME IN THE ASS SO I FALL IN AND THE SHARKS EAT ME!!!" I so wanted to knee him in the ass, after he splashed me with foul, stingray poo water. But... I wanted to see the rest of the aquarium, and I didn't reeeeally feel like going to jail, either. So I didn't push him. This time.

Anywhoo, I decided to be a kiddo. I jumped in front of everyone. I hogged the exhibits I liked. I made friends with statues. Oh yeaaah!


Those motherfucking penguins are HUGE!!!!! I mean, I'm six freaking feet tall, and this fucking penguin is almost as tall as me. But... I got some little squirts to stare at my awesomeness, so it was so worth it.




What?!?!?!? Got fucking COWS?!?! Aren't we in a goddamn AQUARIUM for fuck's sake?! Needless to say, me and Bessie made real good friends, real quick. She keeps trying to claim I violated her, the hussy.


And then I got sidetracked by the jellyfish.... 







Thankfully we washed away the Kid Juice by drinking some "Zombies"... (some freaking rum infused passionfruit vodka freaking cocktail in a Tiki glass). And an awesome day was had by all, except for the kidlet I scarred for life.


Monday, July 11, 2011

His Royal Badness

So, as a wonderful Oregonian boardie reminded me this evening, I owe y'all a post about the worst cat I ever owned, His Royal Badness.

Now, Badness wasn't a vicious cat. Indeed the opposite, he was extraordinarily tolerant of human attention, and liked to make his presence known round the neighborhoods that *this cat* needs some lovin' and food, stat.

It all started so innocuously one Mother's day weekend when I was 16 or 17... the neighbor's cat had had kittens, and I decided my mom wanted another cat as a gift. Mind you, Mother Dearest wasn't the most cat-loving person, nor did she want another pet, but I wanted a kitten goddamnit and this seemed like the perfect opportunity for acquisition.

This kitten was thecutestthing on the planet. Long marmalade fluff, tiny, perfectly regal in his little bow that I tied around his neck. Lord help me, he was the Devil in disguise. Mom was in love right away. Dad on the other hand said "What the FUCK are we going to do with another animal?! Goddamnit!"

We tormented that cat, my three brothers and I. Treated him like the world's fuzziest little puppy, and basically had him trained to think he was a dog. He came when he was called, begged for food, tolerated belly rubs and obscenely rough handling. It was awesome!

Then... he got older. And started doing shit that people don't approve of.

My neighbors came over one day to complain about the cat. He BROKE INTO their house to steal their dog's food. How, you ask? Motherfucking ninja cat dropped in through their motherfucking skylight to make his food-stealing debut, and then got stuck in the house cause he couldn't get back out! First of all... how the fuck does a cat figure out how to be a cat burglar through a skylight?!?

These neighbors ended up leaving the door open for the cat so he wouldn't claw through their screens to get in and consume every spare scrap of food in their house... leftovers on the counter? SURE! Dog food? SURE! Dog biscuits? SURE! Stuff in the cupboards? SURE!

The cat was an escape artist. I had to replace screens about twice a month, cause he'd pull the dumb cat routine. "Oh kitty you need to go out before bed? No? OK!" and then the fucking cat would bust out the screen 20 minutes later. After that Mother Dearest would make me keep Badness in my room with me at night. Yeah, that was fucking awesome.

ROOOOOOOOOWWWWRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!! ROOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!! *claws under the door* ROOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFFFFFWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMAAAAAAWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *freaks out about the carpet under the door and tears a hole in it*

Fucking. Awesome.

So, needless to say, when I moved out of the parental abode my parents INSISTED I take Devil Cat with me... nothing like sequestering a rebellious feline in a tiny 400 square foot apartment on a super busy main road!

Long story short, Badness busted out of the apartment, and decided to be a neighborhood roamer for about 6 months. After that, I never saw him again. One of our neighbors had moved out of their house, and I'd seen him there multiple times, so I figured they'd taken him in as a "stray" (aka shiftless hollow legged feline with boundary issues), and taken them when they moved.

Fast forward 5 years. I'm post-gaming some super fucking delicious Thai food down in this teeny tiny hole in the wall when.... BAM!


The god damn mother fucking Royal Badness shows up! What. The. FUCK!

He's healthy, happy, and on the prowl for leftover Thai goodness down in the buttfuck middle of nowhere, central coast.

Cat still responds to his name... purrs like a mofo, you name it we've got it! So weird!






Gingers never go away!

Friday, July 8, 2011

I wanted to cut a bitch today...

Technical support at work almost made me have an aneurism today, I swear to fucking god.

Me:
"Hi, I need to re-instate my access for *program*, I was on a leave of absence and I'm back."

Them:
"Not our problem, contact X at *department*, they'll do it."

Me:
*emails X*

X:
"Not my problem, contact IT and they'll do it for you"

Me:
*rolls eyes*

IT:
"We have no idea what program you are talking about"

Me:
*bangs my head repeatedly on my desk*
"So who DO I talk to, then?"

IT:
"Your manager." (Seriously, fuckers, my  manager has NO idea how to do this kind of stuff, even if we had the capability! WTF?!)

Me:
"Fuck off and die! My manager  can't do this!" (well, maybe minus the first part)

IT:
"uhhhhh... hold please"

At this point, the call has gone on for FORTY FUCKING MINUTES, kid you not. I'm turning purple. It's one freaking tiny little program that I use once a month, and every single person in my role uses once a month, and no one in IT has any fucking idea what it is?! Fuck!

Transferred to another department.
Department 4:
"Uhhhhhhh what? Department 1 should have done that"

Me:
*screams silently*

Department 4:
"Let me transfer you again"

Me:
*bangs head against desk until my eyeballs rattle*

Department 5
"Ahthaenks youssshhhh ferrr callg (unintelligible) rowh cenh ah help youth?"

Me:
*Fuck what?*
(repeats bullshit problem for the eleventy billionth time)

Department 5
"aahmmla; e;piohbfljbv c;ikfgjhbilhfgj.nb;ofgijd;"

Me:
(FUCKING ENGLISH MOTHERFUCKER, DO YOU SPEAK IT?!?!?!)
"Pardon me?"

Department 5
"Mehhmmmmmm, Aghee dunno what you arrhee ashhkn ferrr"

Me:
"Get me a manager. Now."

Department 5
"Whull meehmmm, what aah emm tryngj to tfelch you..."

Me:
"Manager. Please. Thank you."

After an hour and a half (yes, I timed it) I was transferred to a totally unrelated department, who had no control over the issue but *DING!!!* knew the program I was trying to get into.
He called Department 1 for me and ripped them a new one.

Guess who got access after that!

And I wonder why I drink.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

The saga of the Granny Panties

I decided, about a week before going into the hospital for surgery, that it'd be prudent to purchase a few pairs of granny panties.

See, I thought about it, and I was horrified to discover I didn't own one pair of underwear that *wasn't* scanty! So, to save myself embarrassment in front of Mother Dearest, and unknown hospital staff, I informed PIC that we needed to go shopping for old people chonies.

Now, PIC decided to take matters into her own hands.

She comes bolting into my work one day, grinning like a madwoman, with some odd, soft black object in her hand. She looks around, throws it at me, and runs out laughing.

What is this fine object, you ask?

Voila!

WTF?

Now, these are the biggest pair of granny panties I've ever seen. They go up to my boobs, yo! And I am NOT a small girl, by any stretch. Doubly disturbing is that they're shiny and see through... umm.... yeah... enough said.  So being the good sport (and consummate comedian), I decided to put them on and take them out for a test drive.

FUCK YEAAAH!

Not a great picture, dudes, but that's the thing with wearing uniforms... black, black, and more black, with a side of BIG ASS black panties! 

Needless to say, these fuckers are in my Hall of Fame of best gifts, ever.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

MIA

Howdy, dear readers.

I apologize for the delay in posting... it was a busy 4th of July weekend, and I'm pooped!

Be back soon......


Sunday, July 3, 2011

My cat is the fuzzy, cuddly Devil

So, a week ago I decided to take pity on my snaggle toothed cat, and buy him a can of wet food as a treat.

Obviously this was a bad idea, else why would I be writing about it?

So.... Stewie has never had this delicious wet food business. I got all paranoid one day thinking he had lost weight, and felt sorry for him and got him his very first can of wet food ever. He loved it. It was like kitty on meth, happy as a clam and going at it like a fat kid with an ice cream cake. Ridiculous.

Fast forward 3 days and the cat still.has.not.eaten.anything. He has a huuuuge bowl of healthy, crunchy dry food in the kitchen, just begging for kitty to come over and nom on it, but no. Instead, the god damn cat runs through the house like his ass is on fire, squealing and whining over not having processed pig assholes for dinner.

And then the moping. He would sit next to the dish and whine... put his chin on the counter... peer around the wall at me on the couch like I had killed his mother and he was going to die RIGHTTHISMINUTE from starvation. Call the fucking Waaahmbulance, cause Stewie is being abused. Even him peering around the corner, one glowing evil yellow eye fixed on me, wasn't enough to make me buy him more of that stinky shit.

Well... it had been 6 days with kitty not eating. Apparently the cat out-does me for stubborn, cause I bought him more wet food. 

Sigh. The animal wins again.

Friday, July 1, 2011

My friends fucking rock

This is a text conversation with C tonight...


C- "WTF?!?! There's a line of about six cars in the drive-thru at Taco Bell.... Tourists officially suck."

Me- "Stab 'em in the neck"

C- "They do have sporks here"

Me- "Oh please, get some!!!"

C- "You want a few?"

Me- "OF COURSE!!!! Think of the projects...."

C- "Already thinking..... hmmmmm....."

Me- "I'm going to make a Spork of Doom for work, and I'll brandish it menacingly when I'm mad. BAM!"

C- "I may have topped that one already.... This evening and more vodka may prove me wrong, but damn it, I will have tried!!"

Me- "Holy balls! Share!"

C- "Not yet, this may require a grand unveiling."

Me- "Ner. But OK."

And the end result, you ask?


WOLLLLVVVVEEEEERRRRRIIIIINNNNNEEEEEESSSSSSS!!!!!




It's official. My friends rock.

And sporks are my weapon of choice.

Thursday, June 30, 2011

Poop poop, poop galore

Phew! What a whirlwind two days... I got cleared by the doctor to go back to work so it's been kind of hectic.

My two dogs have become much accustomed to Mommy staying home all day every day with them, so yesterday was UGLY. When I got home at 6PM, my house was a fucking wreck. Dumbshit dogs ate five pounds of sugar, the box the sugar came in, an extra large tub of peanut butter, and most of the peanut butter tub. Abso-fucking-lutely disgusting.

Sugar, when wetted and allowed to dry, apparently creates this glue-like substance which is DAMN NEAR IMPOSSIBLE to get off of linoleum. I mopped... and mopped...and mopped... it's still rather sticky.

So this morning I wake up to one of them puking. Right by my bed. Yum! Walk out into the living room and we had some verrrrrrrry wet accidents in the living room. Thankfully they were on the throw rug and not the berber carpet.

I decided to sequester the fuckers in the kitchen, so that if I had to do clean up it'd be easier to do. Good call, dudes. It was probably the most disgusting cleanup I've ever done in the history of ever. Shit. Everywhere. Literally. Like a shit-bomb exploded in the middle of the floor. But better on the linoleum than on the carpet, in my opinion. I can bleach the linoleum.

And now my dog Cyrus is having abdominal distress, it's probably bad gas from, you know... 4 pounds of sugary goodness... but I'm worried, and a lot less chipper than normal. I apologize.

Stay tuned for more fun happy goodness. I promise. Like the Saga of the Granny Panties. It's coming.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

And this is why you shouldn't share with your mother

I'm currently trying to kill the remainder of a bottle of vodka, after killing the remainder of the beers I had in the fridge, so please excuse any typos and random run-on sentences please.

Definition: PIC= Partner in Crime= BFF= Amie. In case you lot can't follow my logic. Gigglesnort.

So yeah. My date with the cripple carts in the store.

It started with a Zombie Foot. And a surgery. And this girl being on crutches and Percocet. There you go.
After that it started with an innocuous invite from PIC to go wreak havoc and hell... plus I needed a fucking cigarette. So Mother Dear says... "Well when you're out you should get a BBQ lighter. And some duct tape. And some WD-40". (Oh shit, I really was spawned from this woman).

So off we go. Helllooooo Dollar Tree!

Dollar Tree on crutches is like a hopping death trap. All that crap, piled haphazardly in little teeny aisles. I'm lucky I didn't die. But I did get these little cup things, I think they're shot glasses, that have feet. One has boobs and the other one has shorts and little abs. They're supposed to be hula cups I suppose. But Dollar Tree is lame and doesn't carry WD-40 so we had to go to Rite Aid. Rite Aid was boring so I told PIC that we needed to get me a motherfucking beer, stat, cause Mommy Dearest wouldn't let me drink while on Percocet and I was having withdrawals. Plus, I wanted to look like a gangsta carrying around a 40 on crutches. And again why Rite Aid is lame- they don't have 40s. Or 22s. So we had to go to Albertson's... and that's where I lost my shit.

Albertson's has those electro-wheely cripple carts. So I got one.
Then we had to go raid the booze aisle. Like so:

(I think I have a problem)

It's patently unfair that all the loose booze is on the top shelf. Not very nice for alcoholic (psychotic?) cripples in need. So we decided to take a few more pictures for posterity, anyways.
(YUM!)
And then I figured out the carts drive backwards! Nirvana!
Wait wait wait. Hold the phones. There's actually TWO cripple carts. So for moral support PIC decided to get the other one so we could race through the store. Oh yeah, bum Mario Cart. I told her I'd be Yogi if I was a real Mario Carter. Which resulted in me learning that it's actually YOSHI... and if you mistype YOSHI into your Droid it turns it into TOFU, which was pretty fucking funny, since I texted it to another BFF and he was all... UH you mean Toad? NOPE. TOFU, MOTHERFUCKER! YEEHAW!
(My cart was faster than hers)

So we're zooming through the store giggling madly like a bunch of high teenagers, taking pictures at random and trying not to run the other patrons of the store over. It was awesome.

When I got back home I tried to tell Mommy Dearest what happened, and why I was laughing so fucking hard. It was funny, dammit!!!

Her response?

"What are you ON? Drugs?"

And this is why you never tell your mother about anything awesome.


Monday, June 27, 2011

Normal is a relative concept

It's almost ridiculous that I haven't thought to document my adventures before. I mean, my life is pretty much an epic saga of awesome, after all. Stories... I've got stories.

So my Partner in Crime, Amie, has been MIA for the last few weeks with a terminal case of asshole family members. True story.

Today was the first time in a long time we've been able to make beautiful fun, and it was really kind of awesome. Holy hell.

Nothing like "looking for a rental house" by driving through the ritzy area of town, driving 10 miles per hour down the middle of the road. Windows down, smoking, listening to metal. My insane dog in the back of the car squealing cause she sees things to kill. Fucking white ass gangsta Amazon chicks, here.


The funniest part about the whole thing was this homicidal cat laying in the middle of this tiny little fucking back road that they only half paved cause I guess only two people drive down it a year. So, the cat. The god damn cat is sitting in the middle of the road and will.not.move. It's giving me the death stare. It's looking at me like "I'm going to eat your fucking brains you stupid piece of shit human. Go around!". So I stop. And we stare. And we stare some more.

The cat FINALLY moves it's mangy fat ass off the road, but makes sure to maintain eye contact while furiously flicking it's tail like it thinks the tail is some kind of whip of doom, and the cat will be able to tear my head off with it, if only cat tries hard enough.

Amie just looks at me and says "That cat is going to kill you".

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Text speak can bite my fat ass

Text speak.

This is the scourge of the Earth, in my (profane) opinion.

People who text-speak make me want to sharpen up a dull spoon in anticipation of some eye carving shenanigans.

"OMG like WTF r u guyz doing? Imma b thur!"

FUCK. That.

All you idiot "adults" who think that writing little messages like a retarded teenager need to be stabbed in the face.

I mean really, is it that hard to fucking type "y.o.u." instead of "u". REALLY?! Two more fucking letters and you sound like a real, educated human being, rather than a moron that was raised in the backwoods under a trailer in a laundry basket.

Come on, folks. Let's all show off our basic elementary edjumicashun and use real big three letter words, for once.

-TWP, DIP.