Hi. You probably know me as hellohahanarf from my years of commenting around the world wide internetz, yet never having a blog. Well my friends, that has changed. Welcome to MY site.
Finn wrote a post about what we can do to help make the earth a better place for our kids. Obviously I don’t have children, but I do love a lot of people who will grow up at have their own kids and I would want the world to be a good place for them. Hopefully humans will get their shit together, quit fighting and live happily ever after.
Anyhow, Finn asked what each of us to to be more “green” and earth friendly. She sort of challenged us to come up with more things that we could do. As I was looking through my bills a thought that maybe I could try to go 72 hours without using electricity in my house. Sure, the fridge would continue to sap electricity, but other than that it was worth a good go at the challenge.
And then I realized my cell phone battery was almost dead. That’s cool, I don’t need to talk to anyone. I’ll spend more quality time outside with the dogs; I’ll read “Are you there, Vodka, it’s me, Chelsea” by candlelight. Then I’ll do to the office in the morning and charge the hell outta that fucker. Same for the lappytop…make sure it is fully charged during the work day. That totally doesn’t count as using electricity, right?
Well, I didn’t post on Wednesday, but since I wanted to listen to Clearly You’re Retarded (Britt and Adam’s show on Talk Shoe that had Faiqa filling in this week) I figured using the machine’s battery isn’t using electricity or something like that which pacified my no electric resolve.
From there it was an easy jump to using a tealight or a flashlight and the camera so that I could take a few photos for HNT.
And here is practically the same photo with a different crop:
Flashlight’s shadows.
More shadows from a flashlight.
So, which is your favorite of my “no electricity, quickly shoot the images before I burn myself or run out of batteries” photo set?
(For more HNT fun, head over to the comments section where it all began.)
Every morning when I take my shower Reilly either lays on the chair in my bedroom or on whatever t-shirt I slept in that is now on the floor and Ludo lays either on the bathmat or in the dining room at the sliding glass door. Louie is a German Shepherd and feels compelled to guard me, even in my own bathroom.
After I have my wet hair up in a towel and one another towel around me I’ll ask if the boys want to go back outside. They always do, although they usually only are out long enough to chase all birds and squirrels from the premises. While I get dressed Reilly follows me back to the bedroom and Ludo slowly returns to lay back down in the dining room at the door. Louie won’t stay outside if I close the door. I guess he needs to see us to guard us.
Now that the weather is a perfect 50 or 60 degrees in the mornings, I have been leaving the sliding glass door open while I shower and get ready. I thought it was cute yesterday morning that Lou ventured outside for a while. He returned several times to confirm that Reilly and I were ok, but he eventually settled down on the back porch.
Today I came out in my towels and Reilly was right there, laying on my bedroom floor on the shirt I slept in, but Lou wasn’t on the porch. I stepped onto the porch and his head whipped around. Seems he was sitting as close to the porch as he could while still sitting alert in the yard.
Good guard dog.
Annnnd the not so good guard dog. More of a distracted by me puppy.
Jester sent me a message via Twitter late last night (early this morning?).
@hellohahanarf please tell me you saw your boyfriends opening number on snl.
I had been at Cinderella’s house, watching movies and bullshitting, so unfortunatley I missed it. And honestly, I can’t remember the last time I actually watched Saturday Night Live. I figure if something is funny, soomeone will post the clip to Hulu or YouTube and I catch it that way.
I went looking for last night’s monologue and found Dwayne Johnson hosting on March 7, 2009. Not sure if last night was a rerun, but oh my fuck, check this out:
I love that one of the guys in the band claps after he belts out a line. I love the way he says “satin shoesies” with a smile. I love that his shirt gets ripped off. And I absolutely love, like watched multiple times love, love that he turns around and dances that immaculate ass for me. Bam!
Last February I had the pleasure of an all expenses paid trip to Cabo San Lucas. It was amazing. There is plenty to tell, but instead I just want to focus on my favorite part…the swim with the dolphins. All my life I had wanted to have such an adventure, but Pittsburgh doesn’t exactly have such things readily available. When I did find myself in Florida or Hawaii, I either didn’t have the time or the money.
But in Cabo it was paid for. One of my lifelong desires, handed to me.
I smiled the entire time…to the point that my cheeks hurt about an hour after I left.
The above photo original sits on my desk at work. Wish I could get the CD that I purchased to open the other photos. I don’t mind as much because I still have the original print, but still, there were some great fun moments captured.
When I first saw the Zombie Chicken Award, I thought it was one of the coolest concepts I had seen in a long while. I mean, who the fuck thinks of chickens and zombies together? Maybe it is common for some folks, but I have never had that kind of thought cross my mind! (I know, I know…sometimes I live under a rock.) Shiny called it the apoultrylypse and I about peed my pants.
ANYwho, the other day the wicked smart and insanely funny (not to mention gorgeous) Faiqa gifted me with the Zombie Chicken Award. Coming from someone of her caliber, I was honored and shocked and thrilled, topped with a little giddy. Especially since I post pictures of my boobs on this site. And she is adorably modest.
Faiqa also gifted Wonder Woman herself, my incredible friend Sybil Law. Sure, Faiqa and Sybil have a lesbian blog wife thing going between them, but Sybil is still near and dear to my heart. To see Sybil turn right around and present me with the Award…well, I’ll be honest, I did the happy girl wiggle. Just as I am surprised that Faiqa gave my boob flashing self the Award, I think Sybil gave it to me because I post boobage. hehe
Then on Thursday Ren was over here commenting and told me he left an award for me. Are you fucking kidding me? REN was asking me to come see the Award he gave me? I felt as though I was a freshman in high school, being asked to the prom by the captain of the hockey team (dude, our football team suuuuuuuuuuuuucked…hockey was where it was at!). I mean, DAMN! Flattered!
So some of you might not know what this award is all about. Well, lemme tell you what the rules of the Zombie Chicken have to say…
The blogger who receives this award believes in the Tao of the Zombie Chicken – excellence, grace and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words. As a recipient of this world-renowned award, you now have the task of passing it on to at least 5 other worthy bloggers. Do not risk the wrath of the zombie chickens by choosing unwisely or not choosing at all…
Oh I will choose my friend, I will choose. BUT, and this won’t be easy, I am going to try my hardest to NOT gift the Zombie Chicken Award to folks who have already posted that they have received it. A lot of us run in the same circles so we tend to love the same bloggers. I’d like to give my Zombie Chickens to folks who may not have seen it yet. So, without further ado, my picks:
Gwen. This bitch is funny. Love me some Gwen. As with so many of the internet women that I have fallen in love with, she is smart, funny and pretty. I mentioned funny, right? She mailed me a hand painted card that said “I love the way you fingerbang me.” I don’t fingerbang her. See? Funny.
Britt’s Mom. Don’t even know how to adequately convey to you how spectacular this woman is. She is back in school for her Masters, nursing full time, being a newlywed and living in a town still rebuilding from a terrible tornado…all with a sense of humor. When I read her writings she often brings tears to my eyes because I know it is precisely something my Mom would have written. She has enough hippie in her to make her a terrific nurturer and I absolutely adore her. One of these days I will hug her in person instead of through her (phenomenal) daughter.
Liz and Killer. While they haven’t posted on a regular basis in quite some time, I just love them. He is a male nurse who will travel anywhere for several months to make the big bucks, she is an executive in the deep, deep South. Although I have never heard her voice, I know it is that accented smoker’s sexy rasp. I just know it. Regardless, when they were posting all the time, I wouldn’t miss it.
Finn’s Photos. Megan has a terrific photographic eye and is incredibly generous with her camera knowledge. Instead of wanting to keep herself looking awesome compared to the suckatude that are my photos, she offers gentle guidance and encouragement. The fact that she posts awesome pictures daily just rocks my socks off. (I would have linked to her regular blog, but someone already did. And I know she won’t pass along the Zombie Chicken Award, but I am cool with her risking the wrath. And? I’ve got her back.)
Clown. You’ll notice that I didn’t link to him. I don’t think he wants a large audience. The man is fucking funny. Pulls blatant lies outta his ass and delivers them with a face so honest he could be talking to his momma. And that face is so sweet, so innocent, so cute. Yet he lies. And I love it! The fact that he even told me his blog URL made my damn day…I am not about to fuck up that trust by posting the address. Just know that he deserves this award. Although if he turns around and gives it to Rosie O’Donnell he will be dead to me…fed to Zombie Chickens!
A wonderful woman who writes under the name Lex Valentine is writing a book where I have a starring role. She posted an intro and excerpt over on her blog and I hope she won’t be mad at me for doing the old copy and paste routine since I am linking to her.
What I did was create a scene with the three main characters from a book that is only plotted and has no title. In fact, this is the first scene I’ve written for it. The book is one of the Twisted Tales and it’s a twist on Rapunzel starring a twisted version of my friend Becky from Midnight Cliff. If you don’t know Becky you should visit her blog because you are in for a treat. She goes by hellohahanarf across the blogosphere and she’s very flirty and fun. She does Half-Naked Thursday and shows off her boobs including nipples. She has great boobs too.
Anyway, here’s the flirty scene I wrote:
Becks leaned over the sink cleaning the beer glasses meticulously, oblivious to the sway of her unbound breasts in the thin t-shirt. Her long red corkscrew curls spilled over her shoulders and one curl wound around the nub of her nipple where it pressed against her shirt. Simon cocked an eyebrow up at Bas, asking silently, “Should I?” Bas shrugged and went back to watching the mesmerizing movements of Becks’ chest.
With a wicked grin, Simon got up from his stool and walked around the end of the counter. He caught the glint in Bas’ eyes as his best friend noticed the erection that strained the front of Simon’s jeans. Long strides made short work of the galley kitchen’s narrow aisle. As Simon reached Becks, he turned sideways, pressing his hard cock against her ass as if he was trying to squeeze by her.
Her head turned as she looked up from the shiny beer glasses. “What’s that?” she asked in a husky amused tone.
Simon grinned and wrapped his long arms around her, his fingers unerringly finding the stiff nipples that he and Bas loved so well. He ground his hips against her again, rubbing his cock suggestively against her ass. “It’s my dick,” he murmured. “I can’t believe you’ve forgotten it so soon.”
A snort escaped Becks. “Not that. I know your cock when I feel it. I just wondered why it’s on my ass.”
Simon leered at Bas, who was fighting to hold in his laughter. “I just wanted to put my cock on you, that’s all,” he said simply.
Wow. I can’t wait to read what happens next. Sounds smoking hot. Thanks, Lex, for taking such great care of me!
Wouldn’t you know I had photos from late last summer that I thought of when I was reading that little teaser from Lex. Although the above image was to be this week’s HNT, here’s another shot…
And one more since Lex had to go and mention nipples.
If you would like more HNT fun, head over to see the comments where it all started. Be sure to say hi to Os!
Last year I was pretty damn honored to be invited to friends’ son’s 16th birthday (bowling!) party. It surprised me that the kid wanted me tagging along, I mean this was a pretty major birthday after all, but I certainly wasn’t about to complain. We had a terrific time and it was an all around damn fun day.
This year the kid’s parents decided to go along with his desire to dine at Ichiban, the Japanese restaurant. Of course I was thrilled to tag along. Yay, hibachi dining with a great people!!
What really amazed me, and always surprises me when I dine in hibachi style restaurants, is the friendliness of our fellow diners. The people sitting next to me were hysterical, joining in as I spoke Spanish (“gracias”) and hollered back at the chef (“Ay ay ay!”). Actually, they got more unruly than I did, which ain’t easy!
It made me so happy to be with friendly, outgoing people who were happy to be out and about. Also made me happy that the kid didn’t care where we were sitting (at a hibachi table), he ordered the sushi dinner boat because that is what would make him happy. Awesome! (I have been known to order chicken or salmon at a steak house simply because that is what I was in the mood for that day, regardless of what my fellow diners thought of my choice.)
Anyhow, even though I missed most of the first period of the Penguins – Flyers game, it was worth it.
I remember what it was like the day I walked out on the guy I lived with for several years. It sucked. Love was never a question, but the happiness of two individuals depended on my leaving. It broke my heart, but it was the right thing to do. As scared as I was, I packed up all my shit and moved across town, in with a good girl friend who owned a fantastic duplex in one of the best neighborhoods in the city.
That move? Had nothing on what Hilly has done. Ending a marriage is so much harder than when it doesn’t involve the ceremony and families. Deciding to move across town is nothing compared to the decision to pick up and start over across country. Moving into an already furnished and adorable apartment can’t even compare to having to shell out for everything new, even the very bed where you will lay your head.
I am so incredibly proud of Hilly for doing what is best for her. And doing it in the classiest of ways!
Cool thing is, Britt has decided to throw an internet housewarming party. Officially Hilly is in, but she needs a bunch of stuff to get that house into a home. If you have the means, please consider checking out Hill’s Amazon wish list. Times are tough and there are plenty of small things if you just want to let her know you are thinking of her. There are also plenty of larger items if you have more dimes to spare. Regardless, please send our Snackiepoo a message to let her know that you are happy she is moving on, moving up!
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On a TOTALLY different note, I am a moron. Britney Spears has a song out that has been driving me crazy, like I was missing out on something. In the vehicle the other day I asked if Re knew who Amy was or what joke I was missing.
Did you all know that “if you seek Amy” sounds just like “F. U. C. K.” me? Yeah, I am a little slow on the uptake sometimes.
Love me hate me
Say what you want about me
But all of the boys and all of the girls are beggin’ to If You Seek Amy
I’m not sure which one of us is the stupid bitch. Maybe we both are. All I know is my little cousin Re (Twinkle Twat) can get me to do just about anything just by asking and throwing in a “C’mon!” Normally I don’t give a shit about peer pressure, don’t care at all what others do or don’t want me to do. But there is something about when Re wants me to do something…I lose my fucking mind and do it.
Maybe it is because I was 10 years old when she was born and she was better than any stuffed animal or baby doll. Beautiful and happy, always wanting to snuggle like a little monkey. Just a perfect little kid. If she was fussing she immediately stopped when I held her. When Aunt Mare attempted her first shower with Re and Re’s older sister it didn’t go well and I came running to the hollered word HELP. A sobbing toddler was handed to me and I will never forget how great it felt for little Re to cling to me and stop crying while I held her and dried her off. Perhaps I still want to make her happy, I don’t know, but I’ll do just about anything she wants.
Example? A few years ago our cousin got married in Virgina, near DC. I drove Re’s truck (Ford Ranger 4×4) the entire way. When we arrived at our hotel we were hungry. And thirsty. We left the hotel and found a pizza place, but couldn’t find liquor store or beer distributor (in Pennsylvania you must go to one or the other for anything containing alcohol). Re gets the brilliant idea that we should go through the McDonald’s drivethru and just ask the person behind the microphone where to buy booze. “C’mon.”
Damned if I didn’t shrug my shoulders and say ok. The truck was filled with laughter as we sat in the line, but we all immediately straightened up when it was our turn at the microphone.
An extremely accented voice rang out, “Welcome to McDonald’s, may I take your order?”
“Umm. No order, thank you. I was just wondering if you could tell me where the nearest liquor store is.”
“This is McDonald’s, may I take your order?”
“I understand this is McDonald’s, thank you. Could you tell me where to buy booze?”
“No booze here. THIS IS MCDONALD’S.”
“I am not from around here, but I can clearly see that this is McDonald’s. I don’t want food, I want to buy alcohol somewhere. Do you know where I can purchase alcohol?”
“MA’AM, THIS IS MCDONALD’S!”
“Look, I understand that this is McDonald’s, but I just want a damn case of beer. Where the fuck can I buy beer in this town? Seriously, all I want is beer. Help me and I will leave you alone.”
“MA’AM, THIS IS MCDONALD’S. WE DON’T SELL BEER.”
“For the love of all that is holy, do you ever drink beer? If so, where do you buy it? Help a girl out. Please. Where do I buy a case of beer?”
“MA’AM, THIS IS MCDON…”
“STOP SAYING THAT!”
Right about now the SUV in front of us, which has been bouncing with laughter this entire time as they obviously heard the exchange, has a woman lean out and happily holler back at us, “Just at the corner is an ABC Store. They will have some of what you want and can point you to anything else. Have fun!”
We pulled out and around, gratefully expressing our thanks to the SUV couple, then headed down to the corner. The store held just about everything we wanted and we spent entirely too much money there. As we headed back to the truck I told Re she was an asshole for getting me to ask that poor English as a second language guy where to buy booze.
“We should go back and tell him where to buy alcohol in case anyone else ever asks. C’mon…”
Flashlight’s shadows.
@hellohahanarf please tell me you saw your boyfriends opening number on snl.
