I’m Slowly Going Crazy

I feel as though I have been slowly loosing my mind this year. For the longest time I’ve been thinking it’s all me; I’m just seeing things, making things up in my head and what not. Turns out, it ain’t just me (thankfuckinggod).

Here is a list of reasons why I am going crazy:

  • My cat is trying to kill my boyfriend.
  • My Hungarian temperamental, gypsy of a boss is moody beyond menopausal. I swear, if she hasn’t been diagnosed with bi-polar disorder yet, I will have completely lost faith in our medical system.
  • MONEY! Having too little I want to die, having too much I want to cry.
  • When you are cracking me a smile with your ass. Plumber’s butt, I just don’t like the look of it.
  • Cheaters. Not relationship ones, the fuckers who cheat in card games, sports and board games.
  • People who ask to borrow my gum. You cannot borrow my fucking gum, you can ask for a piece of gum in which case you spit or swallow, but I will not let you borrow my gum. Borrowing implies you will return it to me post chew, NO FUCKING THANKYOU!
  • People who ask questions by giving me a choice between ‘two’ options. However, these lazy cunts give me one option, as in: Would you like tomato sauce on that or….OR WHAT! Seriously what is my other option here? Would you like to give me another option or….did you want me to slap you or….do you like girls or…..
  • Vegetarians are few and far between! Yet, there are still countless options for vegetarians everywhere! I don’t discriminate (accept against foreigners and men with small feet). My issue with the whole vegetarian thing is when I’m at social events there is always a vegetarian option. This is not the problem; the problem is when there are no options left accept the vegetarian options, in which was order for the single digit vegetarian in the room. By the way, I love meat.
  • The realization that I am actually not Batman.Image
  • Sequels. Yeah, some are great, but most are terrible. Not only are they terrible they ruin the first one!
  • People who talking and talk and talk. They talk when you shit, they talk when you are watching a movie, they talk when you are playing videos. RULE #1: When you are with me and I’m playing up my stories, don’t be talking. Just shut the fuck up.
  • I am not a lady. My man is more of a lady.
  • Dora The Explorer.
  • The waiters/waitresses who always ask how my food is when their is food all in my mouth. What’s wrong with you? Can’t you see I’m breaking bread?
  • Bus drivers be crazy!
  • Black people be crazy!
  • Laundry is something I have to pay for. One load of laundry is 6$ gone. That 6$ could have been spent on 2ffors!
  • Pee dribble, on the seat or in my pants.
  • Bras! I love my girls to be free. I do! But working in a fast pace environment and working out daily, bras are in order. The hold the tata’s in, but can be painful, itchy, and uncomfortable.
  • People who air guitar. YOU GEEK!
  • I am lonely.Image
  • Fran Dresher (since 1992)
  • People who cannot drive, but drive! WHO ARE YOU! Why the fuck are you butt sniffing my ride, not using your fucking turn signals, and driving way below the speed limit. You shit heads! You are all over the ‘Couve, take a walk man. L-i-t-e-r-a-l-l-y.
  • People who name their kids after objects. Apple, Pilot, Stew!
  • Adam Sandler movies! He acts the same in everything, not to mention all his movies are shit. Pure shit! You want to know what shit looks like, watch an Adam Sandler movie.
  • Endless rain!
  • Dog shit on the side walk. Pick it up! Bag it! Use it as fertilizer later, I don’t care! Just clean up your doggies shit.
  • Human shit on the side walk. Seen it once, never again or I’ll loose it.
  • People who stare. CREEPERS! I tell you what!
  • Almost every time I do my laundry, one sock is missing!E-V-E-R-Y-T-I-M-E! Where do all my socks go?! I swear to god if the cloth gnomes grandma told me about as a child are real I’ll shit myself.

People! I’M SLOWLY LOSING MY MIND! I can keep these crazy-trigger things coming and coming. But alas, I won’t. Why? Don’t ask me why or I’ll lose it.


Dear Jesus

Dear Jesus,

First off, I would like to say/ask who the fuck are you? Just because you were nailed to a cross you think you are Mr. Holy Hot Shot! Seriously? Come on now! I would rather praise the man who fucked the monkey before I kiss the feet of a man who was born from a lady who either was an A-sexual Sponge or who was A WHORE.… ahem, not a virgin. Everybody should know by now miracles don’t happen. If they did we would all be on ecstasy, our entire lives would be non stop orgasms and life would be a never ending drum circle.

I may have never finished reading The Bible, but that is because I only finish books worth reading (ie-Toilets of the World, How to Tell if Your Cat is Trying to Kill You). That being said,I did my time in church. (BY THE WAY JESUS, tell those religious sacks of assholes to stop shoving your holy shit in my face!)

Every summer since the age of 5, my parental units decided it would be a fun idea to send me to my grandma’s for a whole two months. EVERY SUMMER! This meant every Sunday at 9:15 am we were off to church. I basically went for the wine and bread, and at some point during my time in church our pastor had puppets which he communicated through (not sure what that meant) but nonetheless I enjoyed the puppets. Even though I had wine and bread and puppets to keep my buzz going, it did not fully sate my boredom. I was usually (if not all the time) pissed off because if God rested on the 7th day, why the fuck should we worship the bastard while he’s resting.I don’t praise my man for fucking resting! I praise him for putting the seat down or doing dishes, for actually doing something!!! If I saw God make a mountain or see him part the sea like Moses, HELL even fuck a donkey, then high-fives are definitely in order. You know what, FUCK YOU GOD!  (Sorry Grandma.)

Clearly Jesus, you can see that I am not, in no way, shape or form religious. If I was I would be whipping my self.

Even though I am not on my knees for religious purposes (on my knees for fun purposes), I would like you to know, my parents went to church as kids. Luckily, as when they became parental units they opted out of the steeple pleasing cult. Odd though, come Christmas we would go to midnight mass, we would have Easter brunch and a random pig roast in the summer (not the sinning kind). Also as kids we were baptized. It’s funny how I do not believe in God, but when I have kidlets I would have them baptize, I would celebrate Christmas, Easter and all those ‘God Inspired’ Holidays. Probably with a doobie.

To be honest Jesus, I don’t really know much about you. You are like a one night stand Imagethat never should have happen, mainly because of the crab thing. Those Bible humpers and thumpers, are fucked up. Looking at all these depictions of you, makes you a definite candidate for  Dateline NBC’S: To Catch A Predator.

So you are the Son of God, I’m the daughter of an Indian (feather not the dot). The only enjoyment I get out of you is you slightly resemble Chuck Norris and saying Jesus Christ with a Scottish accent is funny. You died once already why come back to only die again? Well, hold on, actually…tell you what, how ’bout you come back one more time, I give you a well-deserved wedgie and you can die again. Three times a charm.

So Jesus, you are probably wondering why am I writing you this letter. It’s not fan mail you can count your blessed little heart on that. I’m just taking time out of my day to let you know a few things every man who nailed hard wood should know (aside from the fact they might be a fag). 

  • The Bible=Book of fiction and terrible at that.
  • Jehovah’s Witness vs Heavy set woman of colour? Um, I choose the coloured gal any day! Aunt Jemima knows how to keep my floors squeaky clean and that girl can make a tasty pancake.
  • Thank you Jesus! Especially for residential schooling your preacher freaks set up for us. I am now no longer a savage, nor do I speak Native Gibberish  I speak ‘real’ language English.
  • I said it once already and I will say it again! Those religious goons handing out pamphlets need to stop! The last thing I need is a sister shoving holy porn up my nose!

Perhaps Jesus, this is not a letter of hate. or a letter of what you and your drones did wrong. Perhaps this is a letter of appreciation. Thank you for all the hate, despair, wars and false hope. Sure, you are not solely to blame, there are other Gods out there who fucked us over. In fact I’ve blazed with Buddah a few times and on more than one occasion that fucker left my high and dry (but mostly high). 

This all being said.


P.S Go Fuck Yourself Jesus!

P.P.S Excuse my while I go to confession, then possibly masturbate.

Freebee #5

I’ve been in a relationship now for almost 5 years. Come July 6th, me and my honey will be able to do something I look forward to every anniversary! No it’s not bumping naughty bits or actually celebrating the day with ‘togetherness’ and all the couply mushy shit, This is something far more greater, far more necessary, it’s adding another celebrity Freebee to our list! CAN’T WAIT! I know, I know, like I’ll ever be able to diddle Ewan McGregor’s light saber or have Adam Carolla drop a digit on me, but hey a girl can dream can’t she.

Now here’s my problem. Every year we add another freebee to our list, but I am troubled with who to choose. Nothing else matters in the world right now people! I need to figure out who my new celebrity freebee will be 2 months from now before the world can continue living.

First, I think it’s best I share my list thus far.

Obi-Wan Kenobi (AKA Ewan McGregor). Since Moulin Rouge I’ve fallen in love with this man and have not been able to escape it. He’s sexy, climbed out of the dirtiest toilet in Scotland, he can sing, he can move, he is in naked in half the films he makes, plus STAR WARS! HELLO! I was so obsessed with this man in high school, I made myself a marriage certificate where I hyphenated my last name with his, I wrote his name all over my binder and seriously considered getting a tattoo in a discrete location so that one day when we would meet, he would know I was his (or run the fuck in the other direction).

Conan O’Brien. This ginger gets me going. I don’t know if it’s because he’s funny as fuck or he has legs for days and make jeggings look reasonable. Sure, I would probably only measure up to his waist, but hey most men appreciate that, guys would rather have a girl head to head opposed to face to face. 

Jason Bateman: He’s adorable! He does great films, not in the public eye too much, definitely handsome and funny! I’m telling ya, boys that make me laugh deserve to be in my life just as much as I deserve to be in theirs! Fuck, I love funny people.

Adam Carolla: This Ace man is saucy, sexy(mainly because he doesn’t know he is), he actually works, he is a racist/set in his ways (although I just see it as honesty) and he complains about everything. I used to think I hated complainers and couldn’t stand them worth shit, but when Carolla does it he’s worth a shit or two. 

Now who to add next too my list! SO MANY CHOICE!

I really admire Seth MacFarlane! He’s easy on the eyes, can sing, dance, funny and you know he has got to have a huge tube steak!

Patrick Warburton you may not recognize his name, but you will recognize his voice. It’s deep, low, and sound like a black man pretending to be white. Any man, who has a voice like that makes me melt in more ways than one. He’s also a big guy, who could carry me like a princess, that is a bonus!

Finally the last person I’m seriously considering to be in the running is Zac Efron. Please understand this is a more of a eye candy thing, no substance. He might be funny, might be funny, I don’t fucking know, I don’t even know the guy. He’s body says he could slam me in a mattress and that is all I need.

Thoughts friends? I would ask my boyfriend for assistance, but the fact he has Anne Hathaway and Laura Linney on his list doesn’t make me want his input!


Yes, Beer is a fear!

ImageI am one tough cookie! I don’t bruise easy, I may punch like a girl, but I take them like a man. I pump my iron, get my daily dosage of what I call a Mother’s tough love, which is essentially a kick in the ass. I rarely cry and when I do, it’s because my gamer ID mysteriously gets corrupted or my WoW account has been hacked into and all my life’s work, time and effort is wasted. Not only I am a tough lass, but I also brave. I’ll Care Bear stare anything! I talk to strangers, walk down alley’s and stare at black people, (not because I’m racist, {I’m racist for a whole other reason}but because I was always told as a wee little girl that if I stare at black people long enough, I’ll turn black.) I’ve been gambling this for a while now, and I’m still just as pink and jaundice as the day I was born (Note: my dad is red, my mom is white you do the math). Despite all this warrior-like attributes I have acquired since Mufasa died in The Lion King, I still have what EVERYONE else has….NO not crabs.

I have a fears and not just one fear but many. Let’s say 10.

10)          Sloths! You may think they are cute, but seriously! WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY!?! Their nails are the length of the average size shlongs (4.5 inches), they got a fucking grin on their face like they just farted, and to add to that they move so slow it’s creepy as fuck. I’m paranoid to the point that even looking at a photo I think it’s going to ninja my ass out the photo. Sloths are not cool in my books, they deserved to all be shot and cooked on the BBQ for a nice light dinner.

9)            Feet! Now this one isn’t so much as a fear as it is something I quite frankly just find gross. They are dirty, and smelly and weird looking. I’ve seen my fair share of feet too. You’ll never find my fingers groping a bottom digit, HELL NO! I’ve once stepped on a stranger’s bed and as I did so all these toe nails caved in on me. I have never been the same since.Lesson learned, feet are gross!

8)            Marriage. Weird right? I know most women dream of walking down an aisle in a flashy white gown, having love ceremony and yada yada yada, but I ain’t one of those women. HELL NO! I enjoy going to weddings, but I do not foresee myself ever getting hitched. Luckily, I’m with someone who as far as I know has the same feelings I do, however all men turn at some point and I’m dreading the day that happens.

7)            Giving birth. I have a big family! I love that I have a big family. It makes me want to one day have a family of my own. Knowing I will one day have to give birth (unless science in the future allows men to shit out a kid) scares me to death. I’ve seen the birthing videos and photos, and it does not look pleasant. I am not a fan of unpleasant things. Unpleasant things scare me, therefore shitting out a kidlet, is a fear.

6)            Killer Klowns From Outer Space. Yup, that pretty much sums that one up.

5)            Closets. When I was little every night, my mom would come into bed, sing me  Rock-A-Bye-Baby and throw out all the monsters from under my bed and closet. One night, while I was at my grandma’s house after my mom did the nightly juju for my bed time, I was lying in bed reading a book and I noticed the closet slowly opening and closing. There was no wind or anything. That scared the shit out of me. The other reason I’m afraid of closets is all the fags are that stuck inside them. Looking back on the closet experience at my grandma’s I’m starting to think a little Faggle was trying to come out of the closet. Regardless, closets are scarey.Image

4)           My Period. More like missing my period. I hate when I have it, but when it comes late or decides not to show up for a month, my 7th fear starts becoming more real.

3)            ZOMBIES! That shit could happen for real, could be the T-virus or rage virus or whateverthefuck. Zombies don’t mess around. I’ve played enough games to know, armor your cat, archery skills are a bonus, steal a car, find a boat, avoid the malls and head for CANADA! Luckily I’m already in Canada. Oh yeah all you motherfuckers will be left for dead if you try to be a hero, this basically means a Zombie Apocalypse is a road a loneliness. Being alone in a world of zombies, is fucking scary,

2)            Alcohol. Yes, beer is a fear! I’m not afraid of it per se, but the effects it has on the body frightens me. Especially the effects it has on my family and close friends. I love the shit, I do, but like most stuff in life it has a consequence for over usage. Moderation is key my friends, always key. Unfortunately, those I love dearly, also love alcohol dearly and no matter how many times I expressed my concern for them and their habit it goes unheard. Alcohol causes weight gain, depression, liver disease, heart failure, high blood pressure etc. It kills me knowing that there are people who I love in my life that are borderline alcoholics or are already there and they probably won’t make it past 40.

1)            Making a wrong decision. I’m not afraid of failure, but I’m afraid that the decision I make will alter something so much bigger than myself. On top of that, I’m worried certain decisions I make aren’t for myself, but for others. Sometimes I stick with a choice because I don’t want to hurt someone. I don’t know if it’s a right choice or a wrong one, but it scares me knowing it could be wrong. It scare’s me knowing I could get so much more out of life if it wasn’t for the wrong choice(s) I’ve made, if they are indeed ‘wrong’

And there you have it. See! There’s a little soft filling in my tough cookie exterior. Now, shhhhh don’t tell! According to all those who haven’t read this blog they think I’m gonna dumb fuck ya’ll up! Let’s keep it that way!

Cat Like Life Coach

Recently, I have been struggling with who to turn to in times of the melodrama in my life. Usually I have a list of people who I go to for certain things in my life. For example, I go to my boyfriend for financial issues (if you know me there is deep, deep irony in that), I go to his boyfriend for relationship trouble, I go to my best friend for everything (boyfriend issues and fitness relapses), I go to my grandma for all complications in life and well, I think you get were I am going with this.

For the past two months, (although I still go to these people in times of need), I have been experimenting with another alternative. You see, I feel as though I am constantly burdening these people when I go to them with my troubles. So I’ve decided to have a life coach (this is my alternative).

Meet Olive. (if you read my previous blogs you’ve met her already).Image To answer you question: YES, it’s just silly and fucking weird to have a cat as a life coach, especially one with anger management issues. But what the fuck do I care, I feed her, I clean her shitter, I brush her, I let her watch me shower, watch me eat, watch me sit on the crapper, I let her sit on my lap during intense gaming sessions, I let her eat my food…basically this kitty owes me.

I believe Olive to be a reflection of myself, and when you can see that reflection in front of you, on another being it can put things into perspective, even if’s a hyper-active-bi-polar cat from the streets.

Olive, like me loves to sleep.  I’m telling you, us ladies pass the fuck out at just the thought of sleeping. Our half hour naps turn into four sessions of floating on clouds with Obi-wan Kenobi. When my alarm goes off for the second, third, fourth time, Olive knows it’s time to stretch her kitty limbs and walk her ass over to me face and wake me up. In fact even when I have terrible nightmares I’m always woken up by Olive sticking her ass in my face (I swear she’s trying to fart).

When I come home from work or anywhere really, she greets me with a big HELLO or WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN!?! She’s got some attitude this one.

ImageWhenever I’m on the computer, usually writing, but playing the occasional WoW or chatting with the parental units on Skype, Olive is right there. Usually, on the printer, on the desk, on my lap or on the computer. It’s cute for the first couple minutes, but it only takes a little bit before who eyes start ripping apart your soul.

She is a little carnivore. I love my meat. This cat eats things bigger than her.  She downs sausage faster than I deep throat……ahem. In short, she is no vegetarian.

When I do my home workouts, she is always there, either doing her cat stretch on my yoga mat or doing cardio laps around the place, bouncing off walls like a cat like thief ninja. HIYAH!

When company comes over, this woman is fierce and territorial. She may be a cat, but she ain’t no pussy. She strongly dislikes everybody that comes into our apartment, including my boyfriend half the time. Almost anything that comes into our apartment that is talking and walking or look like it should be, she is on her guard and lets all those poor bastards know it. I buy her toy mice every week and after she scalps them within a few minutes of me giving it to her, she hurls them off the balcony. Bitch. Even though this part of her aggravates me and annoys the shit out of me, I feel I could learn something from it.

So back to my life coach cat theory. I can talk to Olive and tell her about anything and know she won’t say a fucking word, even in the unlikely chance she is listening it is still nice to vent to her. But yes, I know she doesn’t give a shit.

She watches me and my man rub naughty bits. Yeah, it’s creepy, but hey she ain’t judging and that’s a nice feeling. Sometime when things are getting hot and heavy between me and my man, I can just shoot her a look and she looks at me with approval. In my mind she is saying, You did good kid, real good!

I don’t know how this happens, but somehow anytime I hurt myself, whether it’s dropping a hammer on my foot or being constipated, in those moments of pain and complete discomfort she does something hilarious. She’ll roll out of the closet, or smoke her head on the class window. Once time she got stuck in my man’s skivvies after I started crying after I bang my foot on the corner of the dresser. I literally dribbled in my pants I was laughing so hard. This cat is hilarious. Life coaches should be funny. Laughter is good!

Let me delve in a little bit about Olive’s past. When she was about 3 months old we met. I was on my way to the beach and a gentleman walks on the bus and Olive falls out of his backpack. She looks up at me. I swear she looked just like my old cat Gertie who was a huge obese mammoth of a kitty. (Olive however, not obese). The man who had her said he found her, in an alley way. Apparently, her mother was attempting to kill her. He took her, and put her in his backpack. This man had no money and was looking for some cash for a quick fix. I caved. I couldn’t resist this funny looking cat. So 30$ later, I become the proud owner of Olive (back then her name was 6 pack, but I don’t want to talk about it). This kitty went from riches to rags and that in itself is kind of inspiring. (Gawd, I’m sad..)

She follows me everywhere I go in the apartment. Me and this cat are just that close. I don’t know what I would do without this crazy ass kitty. I love her. Therefore I nominate her as my life coach. Like I said, she fucking owes me. So friends who I usually go to for certain complications and issues in life, if I stop going to you then that I think would be a good thing. However, if I start shitting in the litter box, and licking my flaps with my leg outstretch over my head, help a sister out. It clearly means Olive, is a terrible life coach. But until that moment happens, Ciao my people.

Advice Hardly Given

Today you will be able to feast your eyeballs on my words of wisdom. Countless people and cyber freaks have been asking yours truly for advice about useless shit, that I quite frankly don’t give a damn about. Regardless, I have the answers for you all. Yes, I’m just, that, good. (Dr. Phil, back the fuck up).

Dear Cait, I am still a virgin. What do I do? HELP!

Dear Virgin, Have sex.

Dear Cait, How do I tell my flatmate I’ve had sex everywhere in our apartment? This is including, their room.

Dear Horndog,You have two options here: You can man up and apologize. Or don’t tell them. Keep in mind, jiz stains don’t stay hidden forever.Image

Dear Cait ‘Mistress of the Universe’, How do I tell a woman I don’t like her and to leave me alone forever.

Dear Mama’s Boy, Remember, mother’s are in our lives forever. They brought us into this world and just as well can take us back out. If you however are not referring to your mother, than I have multiple answers for you. 

  • Slap the bitch
  • Ignore her, in fact go to the extent of introducing yourself to her every time you see her
  • Tell her she is cute, but not in a good way.
  • Tell her your entering the brotherhood.
  • Let her know,she can no longer borrow your travelling pants.

If you would like to do this without insulting the bitch, you are out of luck. I don’t do nice.

Dear Cait, I hate my job. I’m going to quit, but not sure how.

Dear Sad Fucker, Pull down your pants and tell your boss to suck it.

Dear Cait, I think I might be gay. How do I know if I am or not?

Dear Pansy, take a trip to Bumfuck Mountain. 

Dear Cait, how can a man wear a dress and still be socially accepted.

Dear Queen, a man can wear a dress and be socially accepted if her has a vagina.

Dear Cait, how drunk is too drunk to fuck?

Dear Drunk, if it talks and walks you are good to go.

Dear Cait, I met this girl who is ‘average’ looking. People make fun of her, but I like her. Should I be with her.

Dear Lovebird, two things: Is she funny? And does she give good head? If the answers are no, fly away.

Dear Cait, At what age do woman finally give in and take it in the bum?

Dear Bum Diddler. the age at which you drug her.

Dear Cait, I am 5 months pregnant, who should I turn to for baby advice?

Dear Preggerz, NOT ME!

Dear Cait, I am my friend is getting married. I have been with my boyfriend for 1 year, how do I get him to purpose.

Dear Hopelessly Devoted, GET PREGNANT! Kidding, kidding…

Dear Cait, my boyfriends birthday is coming up and I don’t know what to get him.

Dear NotAGoodGirlfriend, The fact that you don’t know what to get him probably means you should get him either another girlfriend or a lap dance.

Dear Cait, I’m out of a job and need to make money quick. What can you recommend that does not require me to work the corner?

 Dear Un-working Girl, ever heard of Polenastics?

Dear Cait, my dad wants me to go to a local college, but I want to go to one four hours away. What do I do?

Dear GoingNowhere, tell your father in the most ‘Varsity Blues’esque voice, ‘I don’t want your life’ (James Van Der Beek accent is a must to make it work).

That is it for now my friends! My wisdom has been shared. This advice is so wise that it is simply advice hardly given. Life coach Cait, is on the horizon. Think about it freaks, I could be yours for the low cost of hi-fives and credit card numbers!