Just when ya think you’re the most awkward person in the world, your co-worker steps up and takes the crazy crown.

Sitting at my desk, about to enjoy my first cup of coffee when I felt a presence behind me, and some heavy breathing.

Me: hhhhheeeyyyy Heather, how’s your morning going?

Heather: I’m pretty sure I’m gonna die alone.


Heather: my friend told me about this guy she kinda knows who she thinks would be great for me. But he was seeing someone and I was with douche boy, but now we’re both available so I told her to hook a girl up and she said she hasn’t talked to him in a while so I went and checked out his facebook page.

Me: stalker

Heather: pretty much, but that boy is a 6 foot tree I would like to climb!

Me: wow

Heather: so I put my phone down and went and did some stuff but when I came back I had SOMEHOW friend requested him!

Me: nnnnooooo

Heather: YES! So I panic and decide to send him a quick note just giving him a heads up of who I am, aaannndddd… I’m so gonna die alone

Me: *sigh* show me

Heather (thrusting her phone at me): the scroll down button is on the right

Me: … oh god…

Heather: I know

Me: you mention your panties!?

Heather: ya I was trying for funny

Me: aanndd cats

Heather: quirky?

Me: did you just swear at him?

Heather: confident?

Me: oohh god now the panties are back

Heather: funny?

Me: and now you’re talking about yourself in third person

Heather: I thought there should be someone to explain what I was saying.


Heather: yyaaa, that was on accident

Me: … and no reply from him yet?

Heather:… no…

Me: you are totally going to die alone, can I blog this?

Heather:… sure, I’ll email it to you.


Hi Mona,

Full text copied from the FB message. Italic part is what I almost added but decided against… because I was afraid he wouldn’t get the joke… yeah that is the line that I thought “mayyyybe not… don’t wanna seem too weird” panty thing… totes okay with but I felt the highlighted part was a bridge too far. I obviously have like zero shame so feel free to use my name just don’t post my number unless your blog is really popular and some cute guy is like “woah… she is super funny I want to get to know her then… HOOK A SISTA UP, YO!

“Hi. I know you’re probably thinking “who is this devastatingly beautiful friend of Rebecca’s and why is she writing to me?” and that is a GREAT question… so glad you asked… “want to make 10,000 dollars working from home a month?!? I can show you how!”

You see, today I put on my “throw caution to the wind and do something brave” panties… SPOILER ALERT: they fit seamlessly under the granny panties I normally wear…

Anyways where was I? Oh yes, why I’m writing… well like 2 weeks ago Rebecca (my best friend in the entire universe… weeeeell she’s more like my older sister and I’m the scrappy weird little sister who gets on her nerves and does dumb shit) and I were talking when she mentioned you and how she thought we should meet. Apparently, she was going to introduce us last year but you were either in a relationship or just getting out of one (she wasn’t clear on the deets) and I was dating a dude she totally hated but she thinks you’re single now and so am I. God I’m so very very single… I’ve started naming the cats I don’t have yet but think are required once you hit this level of single. She thinks that we would be a great match because she said you’re weird like me… (gauntlet thrown mo’fo)…

So last night I had asked if she mentioned me and she was like “blah blah blah… something something… made fun of me… yadda yadda yadda” and then she remembered you accepted her friend request and in a moment of brilliance I was like “dude we can see if he’s single now” so I went to your FB on my phone… and looked at your page and saw you were single and put my phone down and told Rebecca to “hook a sista up, yo”…

Narrator: she didn’t say yo. Or sista.

Anyways I was getting ready for bed when I saw that you had accepted my friend request. A friend request I DIDN’T send. Well, I mean I DID send it but I didn’t MEAN to send it…

Anywho… I guess this is a long way of saying “Hi, my friend said we should meet and I put on my brave panties today so I’m gonna throw caution to the wind and say hi which is something I normally would NEVER do because I’m a chicken”

If you aren’t single feel free to laugh at the patheticness of this mail with your lady and be like “yeah babe… see I still got it” but if you are single and would like to talk to someone who is obviously funny AF then feel free to reach out…”

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Thought I was being hilarious and ended up disrespecting my besties titties.

Texting with my bestie Tracy, the AMAZING chef at Served from Scratch and thought her phone made a hilarious spell check error… only it didn’t… and I felt like an ass…

Text 1

So because I’m not a TOTAL monster I sent flowers… to her titties…


And then we came up with the worlds greatest business idea!!



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Hubby and I are doomed when the Zombie Apocalypse finally comes

This is just one of those random, been together over 20 years, conversations that Hubby and I had while stuck in our car waiting for the ferry…

Me: When the zombie apocalypse comes I think we should live on a little island, just the two of us.

Hubby: *sigh* because the ferry is an hour out and I’m bored, I’m going to just go with this… why would living on an island help us during a zombie apocalypse?

Me: BECAUSE, we’d be the only ones on it so no other infected people to fight off, we could get food by fishing and I could grow a vegetable garden and you could create some kind of solar panel windmill thingy for electricity, PLUS there’s like a giant ocean moat around us so no zombie can get to us! I’m BRILLIANT!

Hubby: Okay brilliant, have you thought about the fact that the zombies can just walk along the ocean bottom and up onto our island?

Me: no… the sharks would eat them?

Hubby: ya all those sharks… off the Seattle coast… Okay, we’ll go with that, but then wouldn’t they be zombie sharks? So now we have zombie sharks circling our island.

Me: well that’s not good

Hubby: No it isn’t, so fishing will probably be out, but we have this amazing garden you’re gonna grow, even though you can’t keep a cactus alive for a week, remember the tragic end of Mr. Pokey?

Me: *whispers sadly* Mr. Pokey

Hubby: Or that I have NO idea how to create a solar panel windmill thing.

Me: you don’t!? well crap

Hubby: Plus I’m pretty sure, knowing you, you’d be one of the first people bit, probably while trying to save a bunch of puppies from the zombies.

Me: ooohhh those poor puppies

Hubby: And then you’d come right for me and boom, I’m a zombie now too, and we’re both just stumbling around moaning and drooling and getting eaten by zombie sharks.

Me: Ya know, you’re really ruining this zombie apocalypse for me!

Hubby: sorry?


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Worst Wine Tasting EVER!

For those of you that know me this title probably shocked you.
ME, Mona, not being able to enjoy a wine tasting!?!?
You’re probably asking questions like:

Mona, did they not have wine?
no… they had wine

Mona, was the wine basically vinegar?
no… some of the wines were quite good

Mona, was this place out in the wilderness where you had to fight off rabid animals just to get a tasting?
no… it was inside, no animals, quite a nice set up, with some lovely live music

OKAY… here we go

First off, I’m pretty sure my father set this whole thing up just to see my reaction, so to my dad I say, NOT COOL MAN! But he did buy me a bottle at the end, so we’re good.

Anywho, we walk into this tasting room in the “big city” near the old family farm. The first thing I notice is the large oval bar that takes up a third of the room.  Three to four people are working the bar, pouring tastings around a giant tower of wine stacked in the center. The room itself is surrounded by floor to ceiling glass giving some very nice views of the city and a river flowing below, and I can hear guitar and bass, with some vocals, happening over in the far corner… not too shabby.

Dad and I saddle up to one end of the bar and grab a menu.
Me: ya wanna get a shakaruta
Dad: a what now
Me: shakakukuku
Dad: that’s not better
Me: shakakon
Dad: well now you’re just not trying
Dad: aaahhhhh charcuterie
Me: … you’re evil…

As we wait for someone to come take our order, I scan the room.  For such a happening and fun looking place a large number of the people look sad and/or annoyed and/or ready to kill… that really should have been a warning sign to me, but let’s remember I’m kinda obtuse to these things.  I’m pretty sure I once entered a bank DURING a robbery, made a deposit, grabbed a complimentary sucker, and walked right back out… seriously.

Fast forward 15 minutes and we’re STILL waiting for someone to come take our order.
I’m working overtime trying to make eye contact with ANYONE,
the 2 servers in front of us, no luck,
the manager walking the room, nadda,
the lady sitting next to me, nothing, she just stares forlornly into her empty glass, that had been like that since we arrived.

By some miracle I finally lock onto the manager with eyes that scream, “I JUST WANT TO GIVE YOU MY MONEY!!”, obviously she doubts how much I’m willing to throw down cause she sends me her worst employee.  I know this is the case as the woman that shuffles over doesn’t have a name tag, like everyone else, she looks dazed and extremely confused as to why she’s here, and she’s old enough to have poured the first bottle of wine… EVER MADE!

Dad, being so much smarter then me, ordered a glass of wine, and I, being the obtuse forever hopeful moron, ordered a full tasting.

We also requested the board that shall not be named, however Moses of Wine said we would have to go to the back and into the kitchen to order that…

Me: so like what an employee would do
MoW: ya
Me: yyaaaaaa, I think we’ll just stick to wine
MoW: *shrug*

So Dad got his glass of wine and an empty glass was put in front of me. Alright, here we go! I looked up to find that Moses had parted the seas and was gone.

Me: What just happened
Dad: I got my wine
Me: Ya, but where’s my first tasting
Dad: get comfy honey

People I am not lying getting those 5 tastings took… AN HOUR AND A HALF!

And they were the smallest tastings I’ve EVER been poured, I got a sip of each… A SIP!

Plus they poured me a sweet wine first… FIRST!

And Moses of Wine told me NOTHING about each wine I was “tasting”… NOTHING!

By the time I finished my last “tasting” I was exhausted, confused, angry, and worst of all, not even a LITTLE tipsy.

Dad: that was fun
Me: …
Dad: I owe you a bottle don’t I
Me: …
Dad: maybe two
Me: … and a god damn charkaroringo board!



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Depression is a sneaky piece of s#&%.

The last couple of months have been really good for me.  Hubby and I have been taking lots of little exploration road trips around the northwest.  Orko is LOVING my new job which allows him to come to work with me everyday, where he gets to be fawned upon and adored by his growing fan base.  And I might actually make it through 2018 without starting any kitchen and/or bathroom fires.

Yes, one could say that I have a pretty good thing going… and then depression slithers in with it’s whiny little voice and destroys it all with a sentence.

“You mom’s dead and you’ll never get to talk to her, or feel one of her amazing squeeze hugs, ever again.”

… wow… you punk ass little bitch…

Technically I know I’m doing this to myself, there’s not some evil entity floating around me, ruining my happiness by saying these incredibly hurtful things.  I’ve read the books, I’ve done the therapy. I know this is the part of me that feels bad about getting over my mother’s death and accepting my new life without her.

Still, I fucking hate that voice and if it could take a physical form for like just a minute, that would be the best minute of my life.

I would beat the living shit out of that thing.

There’d by no Queensberry rules for this asshole. I’d be poking eyes, going for the groin, Mike Tysoning some ears!  I mean we’re talking Rated M for mature audience shit.

But instead I’m writing, to help me get through the pain, and the disappointment in myself for making it harder on myself, even though I know it’s not my fault.

Although, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to ask for some kickboxing classes for Christmas… just in case.


Always make me laugh, no matter what.


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Turkducken the myth, the legend, the possible explosion…

Me: I’m thinking of doing a Turkducken for Thanksgiving this year! Chicken, in a Duck, in a Turkey!!

Hubby: Well it was a nice apartment while it lasted.

Me: I am like 63% certain nothing will catch fire this time. But I’m gonna need a really long meat thermometer to get through all the bird carcasses.

Hubby: I’ll post poison control numbers on the fridge.

Me: While I’m super happy with your surprising approval of my Turkducken idea, I gotta ask… WHY ARE YOU SO OKAY WITH THIS!?!?

Hubby: We’re not going to be home for Thanksgiving, remember?  We’re road tripping that week.

Me: aaahhhh man, I totally forgot… I’ll do it for Christmas!!!

Hubby: Nope.

Me: WHY!?

Hubby: We’ll be at your brothers and there’s no way the man who was raised with the cooking disaster that is you, will let you any where near his kitchen.

Me: It’s like you don’t even want me to be happy.

Hubby: Happy… Alive… it’s a hard to pick sometimes.



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How my butt nearly ended my marriage

Me: Is this a spider bite or a pimple?

Hubby: Ah babe come on, I haven’t even had my coffee yet, I’m gonna need you to pull your pants back up.

Me: HEY! This is marriage! You said I do to this! Now look at my butt and tell me if that’s a pimple or a spider bite.

Hubby: I don’t remember our marriage vows stating I have to identify strange bumps on your butt.

Me: It has to be a pimple, I mean how could a spider get all the way up my pjs, bite my ass, and then go back out without getting squashed… do you see the squished carcass of a spider back there?

Hubby: I mean there was that part about sickness and health, but I thought that meant making you soup when you don’t feel good or holder your hair when you’re ralphing.

Me: Maybe it’s an ingrown hair, give it a squeeze and see if anything comes out.

Hubby:  I’d like a divorce now, please.


Update: it was a pimple



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