Life sucks and then you die.

i've always enjoyed writing. but it was only recently that i decided to force my literary exploits on the world. hopefully with the result of entertaining the masses.

i figured that my first post should probably explain what my plans are as far as how my posts will go.

for starters:

1. i curse with alarming frequency. so if you are terrrrrrribly offended by explitives, then maybe this isn't the blog for you. or maybe you could just cover your eyes when you come to the offending words, hop occularly over them, remove your fingers, and then carry on. yeah. just do that.

2. my spelling might be.... off. i tend to write like i think and speak, using punctuation and often more letters than i need to to make the words evoke the meanings that i want them to. i could care less about proper capitalization and punctuation. so no "hating". please. life is too short to get your panties all in a tizzy over the fact that i use a semicolon instead of the proper colon.

3. my son, a cute little dinosaur that i call the Slimeysaurus, is the most awesome thing in my life. and i guess my husband is pretty freakin great too. i reference them quite a bit. be prepared.

4. i skip around a lot. i've got a touch of dyslexia, and a more than healthy helping of WHERE DID THE SPOON GO? LOOK A WITCH! WHY ARE YOU SPLASHING ME WITH LIGHTER FLUID? OH GREAT HERE'S A FLYING SQUIRREL CARDIGAN!! also known as ADD. ok.

5. this blog is NOT to be taken seriously. the stories are all 100% true, but please put on your Sarcasm Monocle before you read.


ok. that pretty much sums it up. i promise the next post will be much more entertaining. maybe i'll include a clover eating contest between a carmudgeony old wombat and Dumbledore's slacker nephew Brett.

stay tuned.

Krista's Tip of the Day:

this is a segment where i impart life lessons that i have learned to my devoted readers. today's tip is as follows.

Ladies, never leave your breat pump on the kitchen counter unattended if you have cats. the opaque plastic tubing is a tasty siren song to your cat-nip junkies. you will discover that it has been chewed into teensy irreparable pieces that are now scattered across the counter and the floor. upon discovering that your expensive booby-pumping equipment is destroyed, you will find your cats, curse them thoroughly, and drop kick them ever so gently the next time they find themselves within a 2-foot radius of your feet. even though you are the evolved species, you WILL blame the cats for your neglect in regards to your Milking Machine. and you will feel no remorse. make sure you get some neosporin for those cat scratches though. cat scratch fever's a bitch.