The F Off 2016 Countdown

Fuck 2016.

I have loathed almost every.single.second of this year that instead of an advent calendar counting down the days to my typically fave day of the year – Christmas (I mean, second to my birthday of course), I’m counting the days (30), hours (720), minutes (how do I compute this?) and seconds (for real, I can’t do math that well) and milliseconds (who can help me out here?).

Like really, really, really, really hate you.

Like really, really, really, really hate you 2016.

This year did start off on a fabulous high-heeled foot with smiles, champagne and high hopes of a bright and shiny new year.

Yay! A fresh start from a shitty 2015!

Yay! A fresh start from a shitty 2015!

But somehow, this year just took a big dump on almost everyone I know.

For me the sparkle of 2016 lasted about 24 hours.  Family drama involving cops, divorce, death of a young friend, bad shit happening to a good person (that would be moi), and still on the hunt for a job –  all squeezed in on or before January 27, 2016.

How can this be happening already?!

How can this be happening already?!

If someone would have told me what the next 11 months entailed, I would have punched myself in the face, possibly crawled into an oven set to broil or figured out how to construct a time machine into the future (although I would need help with the dimensions portion of this project due to the aforementioned horrible math skills).

Fuck 19


So, here’s the kick off to my Fuck Off 2016 countdown to better days for everyone I know ahead.

Fuck you for making me feel ashamed of myself to which was no fault of my own.

Fuck you for making me feel ashamed of myself to which was no fault of my own.

Fuck you for a culture of victim ignoring, shaming, and turning the other cheek when convenient.

Fuck You 2

Fuck you for taking the happy, the uncompromising confidence, the pride, the sparkle, the light, the love out of a girl who has never known any different.


Fuck you for taking away my ability to give a rat’s ass about my appearance to the outside world.

Fuck You 4

No really, fuck you. I mean me in no make-up in public….I think it’s been since 7th grade.

Fuck You 6

Fuck you for the seven months of sleepless nights on my leopard couch because being alone with my thoughts became unbearable due to an act on one single night.

Fuck You 7

Fuck you for the lasting post traumatic stress disorder, severe adjustment disorder and extremely delayed response to that event I’ve been trying to cope with over the last 11 months.

Fuck You 9

Fuck you for the pile of emotions that creep and sneak and fall from the sky at unexpected moments that are bigger than the goddamn mountain of laundry I avoid doing.

Fuck You 8

Seriously fuck you. I’ve never been a crier.

Fuck You 9

Fuck You 10

But fuck you for real 2016! I just.can’t.stop.

Fuck You 11

Fuck. Even Ted got into the emotional mix.

Fuck You 14

Fuck you for making my cortisol levels soar, my energy plummet, allowing my anxiety take over, laziness to kick in, sleeplessness be a constant and for making my diet consist of mainly Pepto Bismol, Aleve and carbohydrates.

Fuck You 15

Fuck you for taking away my excitement for my most wonderful time of the year…celebrating any and everything.

Fuck You 12

Fuck you for the Halloween fail.

Fuck You 13

Fuck you for the sucking the Christmas spirit out of my soul (except my Clark Griswold glass, of course).

Fuck You 16

My gift to 2016.

My gift to 2016.

Fuck you for the lonely feeling of fight – but the fierce (while faint) is still in me and ready to kick some ass.

Thank You

Oh 2016…

Fuck You 20

And so, the countdown for me, for you, for the upside down world we live in at the moment is on. I say we commit to a bottle of bubbly per Fuck You 2016 countdown day.

Holla 2017!

Who’s with me?!?

Holla 2017!




Weekend Winks – R ‘n’ R Style

Still in a recovery mode from the stomach flu, my Nashville weekend was tame compared to my typical shenanigans.

My Skinny Pirate substitution for the weekend.

My Skinny Pirate substitution.

As I found myself shooting back the pink stuff, my dad was able to carry on the family tradition of touchdown moonshine shots on college game day.

Family Tradition.

Somebody had to keep tradition alive as our Iowa Hawkeyes won 45-29…good weekend to be sick, eh?

In lieu of my typical Saturday tailgating treats, I knew I was almost fully recovered when cookie dough was my snack of choice.

Snacking on

Snack attack.

While perusing social media in between college football games, I came across the most loving gesture that a man could do for his girl…



While it’s no surprise that this vino loving gal is cray cray over cats, it seems as if my nephew Prince B is also taking a shine to all things feline.

Handsomest cat on the planet...but don't you dare tell Ted I said that. (Don't tell Ted I said that)

Handsomest cat on the planet…but don’t you dare tell Ted I said that.

Speaking of the furry little love of my life, Teddy had a small little sore (we’re talking barely visible) on his ear that he managed to turn into a full on gaping wound yesterday, as he couldn’t leave it alone.

Ear infection?

Such a drama king.

After freaking the fuck out about it (and emailing his vet), I hunkered down on the couch and hovered over him with a watchful eye (like any crazy good cat mom would do).

Watchful eye on the couch.

You scratch, you die.

I wanted to be sure to get all of the happy snuggling in before I risked my life by lassoing a cone around my bear (which forces him to walk backward AND makes it impossible not to get kernels of his $60 food stuck in crevices – how embarrassing).

Paybacks are going to be such a bitch.

Paybacks are going to be such a bitch.

Here’s hoping my eyes aren’t clawed out by the end of this week…