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An Army of… Nunny???

To begin with, sorry for the hiatus.  I will be sure to be updating once a week from now on..

Secondly, Penny Lane aka Nunny is my beautiful seal point Himalayan kitty I received one snow christmas eve back in high school.  (Also, please be aware that every animal that I have ever known or owned has had about twenty different names hence why we call Penny Lane Nunny).

Thirdly, some background of me in high school.  I was a complete and utter nerd.  No no no, don’t try to tell me I was not, because trust me I was.  I was in the drama club and chorus, I was terrified of sports, and I was incredibly awkward.  (Today, I am still incredibly awkward, but with less piercings and one color of hair).  So being this complete nerd I hung out with other nerds.  It’s like being in a herd of gazelles or something, we all hung out together and tried to stay out of the way of others.  Because let’s face it that cool kids were more like mountain lions than human beings and we could be eaten alive at any moment..

So senior year I was totally punk (not really), but I had weird pink hair and would wear pink chucks with these awful looking plaid skirts and a dashboard confessional or reggie and the full effect t shirt.  So obviously I was way too punk for gym class.  My gym class consisted of never being involved in any type of sport and loitering around the gym.  Hell whatever you have to do to get by right?  So I hung out with my two friends Sharon and Adam during gym class since we all loathed things like kickball and dodgeball (And I swear some of those dicks would aim for my head and then call me casper or afro ashlie since they were so incredibly clever).  On one particular spring day a rumour started circulating that people from the army recruiting office were taken over gym classes for the day.  This meant actually having to participate by doing like jumping jacks and shit.  Fuck that, I was not having some d bag yell at me and make me climb a rope or do a push up.  So Adam, Sharon, and I decided we were way too punk for that shit and decided not to dress that day (I dunno how it works at other schools but the gym nazis would not allow you to participate if you did not have clothes thus you would lose points for that day) and I would much rather get a C in gym than be invovled in army things. 

We thought we were so effing smart… I remember we laughed as we went to sit on the bleachers while all the other kids in our class had to huddle up with the army recruiters for their 40 minutes of tortuous exercise.  Suddenly the gym falls silent and we look up to see the two army recruiters making their way towards us.  To be honest, there is nothing scarier to me (a chubby, pale, white girl with OCD) than two men dressed in army gear power walking their way over to you with scary, angry faces.  Anyway they storm their way up to us like we were Yugoslavia and they were the USSR and started pointing at us and screaming (while spitting mind you)…

 “What do YOU three think you are doing?!”

I was terrified into a catatonic state, but Sharon…good ol Sharon who wouldn’t take shit from anyone..said something along the lines of “Hey buddy we don’t have our gym clothes we can’t participate”  And Adam agreed.

Sargent McDickface then looked at Adam and started laughing, “Son I think you need yourself a haircut!”  and Cornel Redneck replied “Dur her..her…he needs some contacts too Sarg!”

I looked at Sharon as if saying really?  They are making fun of a 17 year olds hair cut and his lack of 20/20 vision, really?

They then informed us we would be participating regardless, and of course they made the three of us work about 500 times harder than the other kids in our gym class and continually screamed at us.  It was utter hell, I swear I had like six asma attacks.  At the end of the class they made us all fill out these cards that included our names, birthday, phones number, address, etc…  I though to myself, dear God there is no way I will ever be joining the army (I have nothing but respect for those who serve in the armed forces, but really would you want someone like me having a weapon in their possession?  Most likely not) so instead of ny name I put down Penny Lane’s name with my parents phone number, address, etc…

Not even a week went by before the calls for Penny Lane started to trickle in and pamphlets addressed the Penny Lane started to litter our house (get it litter?  I’m hilarious, I know.)  I of course went along with it, when they would call I would make little jokes sort of insinuating Nunny was no human being, but the recruiters never got it.  I kept telling them that Penny Lane was very interested in joining the army, but she was just quite shy. 

One afternoon a few months later there was a knock at my parents door and I opened it only to see an army recruiter standing outside.  He asked for Penny Lane, I started laughing and grabbed Nunny from the couch next to the door held her up and said “She ain’t interested!” and shut the door.

Moral of the story, Army 0 Ashlie (and Nunny) 1

p.s. excuse the awful picture my lap top is broken there for I have no photo shop, just shitty paint…I swear I would have made a much more hilarious picture if I had the resources.

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Posted by on May 26, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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Prank calling Kate

My sister is probably the most gullible person in the world, like special olympics gullible. I have a plethora of animated voices I can do in order to enhance my prank calling experience, for example: russian mistress, chinese take out lady, english broad, and southern Shelia…just to name a few.
So the other night I found out how to call people on a cell phone from a google voice number.
I first called my best friend and said “insidious”… cause we saw the movie…and it was scary. I may have tinkled a little at certain spots.
Anyway, so I called Kate and the call went something like this…
“Hello?”
“Hi there, can I please speak with a miss Kaitlyn Mikooooosh” (imagine a steel magnolia, big hat wearing, southern beauty voice.
“Uh this is her”
“Hi miss Mikoooooosh, this is Shelia calling from the Pittsburgh parking authority. How are you this evening?”
“Uh…I am ok”
“Well ma’am I am calling regarding about some unpaid parking tickets dating back to 2009.”
“What? I don’t have any tickets”
“Well Miss we sent out several notices in order to receive payment”
“Look if I would have gotten a ticket I would have paid it”
“According to my system here is shows with fines and fees you owe a total of $1500”
“Oh my god. I don’t have that kinda money. This is ridiculous, I never received anything.”
“Calm down Miss…let me see what I can do for you. Ok…ok…it says here I can completely take care of the total amount due if you can answer five lord of the rings trivia questions”
“Ashlie, you are such a fucker” and then a dial tone.

I am 26 and still prank phone calling people…fuck it, I am still hilarious.

 
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Posted by on April 17, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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Gentleman caller # 1

Of course through out the last 26 years of life I have had several gentlemen callers, but I am labeling this bro as # 1 for no real apparent reason other than this situation popped into my head today.

I was 19 years old, working at Target, and possibly considering going to the local community college. Yes folks, I was living the dream.  I was wearing khaki pants with red shirts and wanting to know more about getting a degree in liberal arts (which is the equivalent of being a barista at starbucks).  So during this particular time of self loathing I had met a gentleman that was of no use to me other than to have a roll in the hay with every so often.  He claimed to be a former wrestler, no not like olympic wrestler, like weirdo pay per view wrestling with masks and spandex leotard.  He was quite pathetic, but the sex was rather enjoyable.  I would honestly go to his house, do the deed, and leave because he had the personality of a spoon.

Anyway, about two months into this fucked up relationship when I would go to his apartment he would want me to do things for him (not fun things you are thinking of pervert) like bring him a drink from the local store or bring in his mail.  Okay, I was fine with that.  But one day things took a drastic change…

After our fun time he asked me to change his laundry over in the laundry room and fold his clothes.  WHAT THE FUCK?  Do I look like your maid?  Is my name Maria the migrant worker?  Hell no.  So I did it (sorta I just kinda lumped the clothes in a pile) for some ungodly reason and as I was ready to walk out he asked me to put another load of his dirty ass draws and arm pit stained t-shirts in the washer.  Listen ladies, no random sex is worth having to touch some douche bags dirty ass underwear.  So I did what any other woman with tits, ass, and a brain would do… I filled the washer with bleach and threw in as much clothes (mostly already clean ones) as my hands could grasp into the washer.  Turned that bitch on and walked out of his apartment.

Later that evening he sent me text calling me a cunt and various other obscenities and that I would pay for ruining his favorite Nickleback t-shirt.  I simply replied, no hablo ingles.  Boom.

 
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Posted by on April 14, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

I have a sister

Sorry it has been some time since my last post.
Anyway. I have a sister, Kate.  When I found out I was going to have a sibling the conversation went something like this…
“Ashlie, sweetheart. Mommy and daddy have to tell you something.” Mom cooed.
“What? You have presents for me?” (I was an obnoxious child)
“No love, you have going to have a new baby brother or baby sister” mom said way too excitedly.
“Don’t we already have a cat?”

From that point on I knew this was going to be a long journey.
When the day came that early october morning in 87′ I was pissed. I went to the hospital and strutted my adorable blonde curly haired three year old self down the hallway. There we found mom she was holding the squishy faced baby with black hair.
“Can’t you put it back?” I asked.
Mom then handed me some fug looking doll that seriously resembled the alien she was cuddling.
“What is this thing?” I asked.
“It’s a present from your sister” mom claimed.
“That is ridiculous” I said as a turned my heels (which were adorable little rain boots) and marched out of the room.

Then something changed inside me, instead of hate and resentment I found a new found acceptance of my little sister once I realized I could blame all the dumb shit I did on her…and I could smack her around when she pissed me off. Basically I was a pimp, minus the sex and sweet grills/fur coats/canes.

I recall a specific instance when I was 8 and she was 5, we were visiting my grandma’s house which was lamecity. I mean she had one of those tvs that still had the turny knob things, boring. I always pictured grandmas like mrs. Claus…there were no cookies…there were no reindeer. So I decided I wanted ice cream and there was this adorable little ice cream shop right down the street. I asked my mom, she told me no. What the hell? How could you deny your two beautiful children of the wonder that is delicious ice cream with sprinkles and whipped cream? So I said fuck that mom (probably not really) and I made Kate go and find my mom’s purse, then retrieve her wallet from said purse. We opened it up…saw no cash, but there were a few credit cards. I told Kate that they were like magic, free money for people who held these plastic cards from heaven. We waddled down the street to the ice cream shop. I asked for two cones with sprinkles and not just any sprinkles…the rainbow kind. The cones were finished and looked glorious waiting there for us. I handed the cashier the plastic free money card. The cashier laughed and asked if my mother knew I had this. I said yes of course, I am a very responsible eigh..err…ten year old. (This was only the beginning of me lying about my age) she then called my grandma’s which erupted a series of unfortunate events. Kate and I had the shit beat out of us, I tried to blame Kate like I normally would, but this time she didn’t believe me…this time she knew I concocted this evil ice cream plan. So that was the end of my tyranny over my little sister, which sucked cause I could have used a few more years of a personal servant.

That is Kate now——>

And this is only the beginning of our hijinks together for the past 23 years.

 
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Posted by on April 14, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

Once I went to vote with my dad

Let me introduce you to my dad, Fred.  He is a sassy Vietnam Vet whose mind is fried from years of smoking the reefers and working for the postal service.  Anywho, it’s a few days before the 2008 election Fred asked me if I would join him to vote instead of going alone.  I said yes and asked him what his thoughts were on the election.  He replied “I’m voting for the Oramalama guy, he seems like a good guy.  You know those damn republicans fuck everything up”  I tried to keep my laughter to myself and I questioned, “You mean Obama right?”  “What?  That’s what I said Olama”.  I just shook my head and knew this was going to be an adventure.

The next few days were like the god damned king’s speech of 2008 trying to get him to say Obama and Barack correctly.  It was like trying to teach a one-legged prostitute how to bake cookies.  By that I mean frustrating, relentless, and dirty.

So alas the day came, it was a very cool November morning.  The leaves had already fallen and the smell of wet grass and urine was in the air (Seriously this is West Library).  We walk up to the fire hall, I’m proud as a pig in shit thinking I cured my father’s learning disability and taught him how to say Obama.  We take our respective places in the voting booths and when we came out he said, quite loudly mind you, “I did it Ash, I voted for Osama.”  The entire room quited and began staring at the two of us… I shook my head and said “Good job Dad, Osama is going to make a great president”.

I think terrorism won that day.

 
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Posted by on April 2, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

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I got drunk in a darkroom once

image

As anyone who has majored in photography or taken a photography class knows about the black and white darkroom, but those of you that don’t I’ll explain… it’s not exactly completely dark, but there is this orangish red light in there that resembles lighting of a 70s porn. There is a long sink with three tubs filled with chemistry (fyi you can make meth using the chemical combo of fixer…the more you know) that I swear smells like roast beef and a tub of water to develop your prints as well as these awkward things callled enlargers that burn your image from the negative to a piece of photo paper…I know trippy man.

So it was late November we had a final due very soon, class time never allowed enough time for me to master my horrible shots of trees…and more trees. So you could get a night pass to work through out the evening to get caught up. At this time I was going through a weird relationship with a classmate that was kinda ignoring me, so I thought fuck it… it’s time to get completely drunk. But, wait my tree pictures weren’t going to develop themselves so a friday my friends Kelly, Emily, and I got night passes.

Kelly and I decided we needed to walk to the liquor store on smithfield, we filled our cart with various alcoholic beverages. We stepped over some homeless men and walked back to gay dancing school.

We all drank and laughed, but if I recall I probably drank the most out of the three of us. I heard a noise and I swore jesus was at the door, soooo we prank called several people including the classmate I was semi seeing and talked to them about jesus.

Kelly and I took a bathroom break and saw some poor student taped his class registration for the following semester on a professors door. We took that bad boy and signed that gentleman up for several poli sci classes that took place at 1 a.m. wednesdays taught by jesus.

We called it quits at about two a.m., I was still smashed, but to be honest my trees never looked better.

 
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Posted by on April 1, 2011 in Uncategorized

 

I once was fired…

I needed a job so that I could continue going to gay dancing school (Point Park University) for my undergrad.  So I was hired to work at one of those kiosks in the middle of the mall selling skin care products.  This job would eventually lead be to being promoted to manager (I know, highly prestigious.  Working at the mall.  As a manager.  Of a kiosk.)  Anyway, of course me being the slacker I am didn’t particularly take this job seriously, I mean a feral child could have probably done a better job than I.  So I mostly read books or watched netflix on my laptop and realized what a bunch of tools the people at the apple store are.  Sorry kids, you are not cool in your skinny jeans and over sized black framed glasses.  You’re so hipster it is insane.  Anywho, I ended up hiring a friend to work under me because she was in desperate need for a job.  She had horrible breath, like what I would imagine a cat shit taco to smell like, greasy skin (like dripping wet), and was very lumpy, but hey I felt the need to help.  So after a few months of working together a manager from another mall walked up to me and handed me a yellow envelope.

Inside the envelope was the letter that informed me I was being fired.  For what?  I wasn’t sure.  I was just told to hand over my keys to the kiosk and get out.  So before I left I went into the stock room and dumped everything on the floor.  Yeah take that bitch, you’re going to have to pick everything off the floor ha ha.  Well, whatever, it was probably immature, but I was pissed. 

So later on, while filing for unemployment because I still had no clue as to why I was fired, I find out that the smelly friend employee lied majorly about me and claimed I did all these awful things.  Now, I may have hated that job and lost brain cells every time I talked to other mall employees, but I still got my job done.  In the end I got the unemployment because they company forged my signature on a bunch of documents, dumb asses.

Anyway, about a month later (after not talking to smelly mcgee) I was in the mall and I saw Stinky working as the manager.  So the cuntress lied so she could get my shitastic job.  Please, if she wanted it that bad I would have given it to her.

My anger definitely got the best of me on this one and I wanted revenge, badly.  But, how could I do that?  Key her car?  Nah it was a piece of shit.  Steal her man?  Nah he looked like a neo nazi.  Punch her in the face?  No way I would have the fried chicken grease face touching my hand.  So what else could I do…

I decided to send her shit directly to the kiosk.

I found the website www.poopsenders.com and sent her elephant shit.  I had the choice of cow, elephant, and gorilla.  But I felt elephant was appropriate because her facial features sort of resembled an elephant. 

I hope she enjoyed it.  I can only imagine the fed ex guy coming up to the kiosk with a package addressed to the manager of the kiosk.  Maybe she thought it was a present from corporate or a gift from the nazi boyfriend.  She probably used a box cutter to cut the tape off and then lifted the flaps to the box.  “What is this?”  she probably said as she unwrapped the packaging.  Inside she would find one gallon of elephant shit with their business card tucked inside.

I think I won that one.

 
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Posted by on April 1, 2011 in Uncategorized