Freshly Pegged: Wolves Are the New Lap Dogs

Haaaaaave you met Peg? I blog crush on her and her Reese’s Cups. (No, that’s not an euphemism.)

Have you heard about Peg’s series Freshly Pegged? That’s where I am today. Because you know who deserves to be Freshly Pegged?

Someone who laughs in the face of danger.

Someone who walks straight into a wolf’s den and says, “I’m not afraid of you.”

Someone who loves all things furry.

Me.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I once went on a date with a guy that I’m sure had his mother in his freezer at home. He spoke to me with his head tilted to the left and didn’t move his lips when he spoke. During the date I texted my BFF, ‘I know that he wants to wear my boobs for a hat, I do not want to be material for nipple beanies!’ I toughed out the comedy show and made a quick getaway. Thankfully he didn’t know where I live. Dating sucks.”—TrippyBeth


How to Spot a Psychokiller

One evening the Cupcake Dangler (CD) invited me to his house. I accepted…and then I panicked.

What if his super-polite gentlemanliness was all an act…and he was secretly a psychokiller.

After Googling the percentage of psychopaths in the population (1-2%), I decided to play the odds. CD was probably safe. And his house probably did not contain a secret torture room.

Nevertheless, I decided to be on guard and look for suspicious psychokiller clues.

CD: Would you like some wine?

What I Should Have Said: No, thank you.

What I Really Said: Yes, please. 

Translation: I’m afraid you’re going to kill me, and I want to be numb to the pain.

CD: Red or White? This bottle of white is already opened, but I can open the red if you prefer?

What I Should Have Said: Red, please.

Translation: I want to be sure you didn’t roofie the opened bottle.

What I Really Said: White, please.

Translation: Roofie, shmoofie.

CD: Can I give you the tour?

What I Should Have Said: Yes. Of the living room. Only the living room.

What I Really Said: Sure!

Translation: I will stab you with the wine glass stem if you try anything.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I’m with you; that peacock looks incredibly dangerous. Its beady eye is freaking me out right now.”—Sarah9188


A Visit to Zoobilee Zoo…in Pittsburgh

Want to join me on a safari? But I’m warning you right now, it’ll be dangerous.

Cat fights…

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Leopard: If you take me home, I’ll eat Esme Kitty for breakfast.

Close calls…

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Deery Lou: Your sweater sleeve tastes soooooo good!

Violence…

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Peacock: Thoughtsy, I’m here to help you get over your fear of birds…and then I’m going to knock you unconscious with my massive tail feathers and peck your face off.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Cupcakes are being melted and dangled all over the place here, Thoughtsy! I just can’t handle the cupcake abuse!”-Daile


I Locked Cupcakes in the Car and Didn’t Crack the Window

A few weeks ago, I locked my keys in the car. At work. Oops.

Luckily, my mom has an extra key. Unluckily, I work for the Special Forces, so there’s too much hassle security involved for her to bring me the key.

Cupcake Dangler (CD): Where are the cupcakes you baked?

Me: In my car. For safekeeping. With my keys.

I was going to walk to meet my mom because it’s only a mile off post. And then CD offered to drive me because he really wanted a cupcake.

Once we reached the key drop-off point, I called my mom from CD’s phone (because mine was locked in my car) to see where she was.

Me: Someone from work was nice enough to drive me….

CD: “Someone from work?” I’m hurt. I don’t get to meet your mom?

Me: I can’t tell my mom it was you!  Then she’ll save your phone number, and you’ll get random texts from her asking if I’m ok if she can’t get ahold of me. And that’s embarrassing.

Then later that day, my mom texted me this:

Mom: Was that him?

Me: Yep. Don’t save his phone number, ok?

Mom: Too late.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “This is eery. I JUST told my family I wanted eyelash extensions for Mother’s Day, and they laughed and laughed. And then laughed some more. Fuckers. I’m showing them all this post.”—Carmen


You’ve Got to Bat Your Eyes…Like This

Growing up, I was a total tomboy. I couldn’t tell you exactly when I became girly, but I suspect it was around prom…because the dresses were pretty.

For a girl, I’m pretty low maintenance. I usually wear eye makeup, but I only use foundation on special occasions. Makeup takes time, and I have no patience. Plus, I never really figured out how to use blush correctly.

When I first heard about eyelash extensions, I thought:

Perfect! Now I won’t have to use mascara. Woo-hoo for 3.14 extra minutes of sleep! Sweet!

Extensions normally cost between $150-200. So I cheaped out, and let my nail salon do them for $60. They fell off the next day.

When I saw that a real salon had an eyelash extension special for $50, I tried one more time.

Now if I can just get rid of the nasty red vein....

Now if I can just get rid of the nasty red vein in my eye….

The picture was taken 2 weeks after my appointment…which means some fell out. You can imagine how awesome they looked when I first got them.

Apparently, I have more eyelashes than the average person, so it took almost 3 hours to put on a full set of lashes (because they put them on one-by-one).

As the technician handed me a mirror, she said, “They’ll be even more dramatic if you put mascara on!”

I could see spiders my lashes in the mirror across the room. No mascara needed.

Now I’m used to them, and I love them. But when I first saw them, I was shocked into girly overload…hence this text conversation:

Me: OMG…These eyelashes make me look like a hooker!

Friend: And you’re worth every penny.

 Kudos to the person who guesses what movie the post title is from.


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