160 Ain’t Just a Number.

Chronic Migraines, they say. That’s what I have. Change of meds. Great, more pills. Just what I needed. Every time I move it hurts my head. So, I don’t really move much.

Which lead to this weight gain. I literally just now sat in my closet for like 30 minutes crying getting rid of clothes that I simply can’t fit anymore. I go to the doctor, they check my weight. I’ve gained 1-2 pounds every single fucking time.

What’s the fix? Exercise hurts. I don’t really eat too unhealthy. 160 pounds of me begs to differ, though.

Childhood Demons

I’ve always just assumed I would die young. I said to her, laughing nervously. I always laugh in awkward situations. When did you start feeling that way? She glared at me, writing.

I don’t know. I shrugged. I guess I came to that conclusion because I was a very sickly child. I missed a lot of school, had a lot of fears…so I just figured that would lead to an early death…my voice trailed off. What kinds of sicknesses or fears did you have? She pushed her glasses up on her nose.

I was curled up on her couch, hugging a pillow as if I were still 6 years old trying to figure it all out. I always thought my house was burning down or there was a tornado coming. I thought that if I sat up all night, I could keep myself and my brother from dying. I guess I had childhood insomnia, but my parents didn’t notice. She shifted in her chair. Those are logical for small children. The difference is that you had to take care of and become independent so quickly that you felt that you held a responsibility in being the protector. I nodded.

I had issues with my ears growing up which led to 2 surgeries and with allergies, sinuses, that sort of thing. I also seemed to get the stomach flu alot. When I was 15, I found out I had kidney stones. It just seemed like I was never in school. My parents smoked around me and we had cats. She sighed. That probably explains it. The smoking. Children don’t do well around parents that smoke and it can affect their health dramatically.

So I’m not going to die young? I didn’t laugh this time.

Your moronic white person is showing.

I was involved in a high speed chase earlier this week. Ok, OK. I use “involved” loosely. Watch-it-go-down-as-I-was-on-the-interstate is more of an accurate description of the situation at hand. Before I get to exactly what happened, let me just say I do not condone running from the cops in any way, shape or form. You will get caught. Especially if you do it all wrong, like this person did. 

Now, a list of all the dumbass things this person did while running from the cops:

1) It was 4:45 pm. That means we were just way too close to 5:00 traffic. C’mon. You can’t run properly if you’re stuck in traffic like the rest of us. He had to drive in the emergency lane and everyone knows that’s where all the fender benders are parked. JESUS.

2) He was in a hunter green Mini Cooper. Yea, that’s a little wee british car there, mate. Meant for city driving and parallel parking, not speeding off from the cops. IT DIDN’T EVEN HAVE RACING STRIPES.

3) He gave up too easily. I actually saw the guy get caught about a football length in front of me. AT LEAST LET THEM BREAK OUT THE SPIKES. You went through all this trouble, after all. You’re already going to the slammer, douche.

4) He was white. No, I’m not racial profiling. White people cause issues just as much as all the other races. That’s not what I mean. He was A SCRAWNY NERD WHITE DUDE WEARING LOAFERS. That’s what I mean. At least try to look badass. Mess your hair up or something.

Guys, seriously, this guy caused traffic to be backed up and he didn’t even give us a good show. Learn your lesson here today. Don’t run from the cops. And if you do, do it the right way.



I was just diagnosed with fake cancer and we’re moving to fake Hong Kong.

Yea, you guessed it, my ex best friend that is still kind of my friend but not really is getting married. Oh yea, and I’m a bridesmaid. Why? Why did I agree to torture myself with bad dresses, drama and fluffy hair? Because she was my matron of honor 3 years ago.

Long story short, our non friendship goes way back, and our friendship goes back even further…like 15 years. Ugh. I’m old. Sidetracked, sorry. She’s a manipulative, crazy drama queen any day of the week. Now multiply that times 10 to get bridezilla on steroids. Anyway, her colors are cotton candy pink and blue. I’m one of the unlucky souls that gets to wear the blue one (um, thankfully?) but she keeps changing her mind about the actual dress. Currently, I own a bridesmaid dress that was shipped from the Chinese blackmarket that doesn’t fit, if any of you are in need of one. It costs 200 pesos…

J-Bird and I were trying to come up with a way for me to avoid the wedding drama without being too harsh and since I can’t fake my own death because I want to keep my facebook account, we decided that I should have cancer and we’re going to move to Hong Kong.



Oh my lanta, it’s Hotlanta.

J-Bird and I took a 3 day mini vaykay to Atlanta to sightsee, do fun things, shop and go to a concert. I’d forgotten how much I like Atlanta. It’s been 12 long years since I’d been there, but it really is a cool city with alot of crazy people and insane drivers. All this time I thought I had converted over to a city girl but then I go to a place like Atlanta and feel like a total noob on the subway and realize…I’m somewhere in between city and country girl. Suburban living is my thing, perhaps.

Anyway, we saw Ellie Goulding in concert at the most amazing venue, the Fox Theater. If any of you guys have ever been there you know how awesome this place is…the decor, the lights, the seating…awesome. Also, Ellie is my favorite. Need I say more?

We also went on a tour of some the places The Walking Dead is filmed. Ummm…that, in and of itself was almost as awesome as the concert. Met some cool people. Got called zombie hunters. Made friends with a random ass cat.

We had breakfast at Ikea over the Atlanta skyline. Mmmmm…lingonberry juice…swedish pancakes…princess cake….these are the things happiness is made of.



I can’t have pie because I lied to Jesus.

The strange knock at the door this morning left J-Bird and I staring at each other an entire 10 seconds before either of us moved. He was shirtless, so I said I’d get it. Mistake.

As I flung the door open, I saw 2 men dressed in their Sunday best and I realized I was about to be converted by the Bible thumpers. Crap. As the one guy started talking, my brain ran through excuses: my cat needed me, I was in the middle of spring cleaning, my husband was dying upstairs, fainting…we’re atheists, but thank you for stopping by is what I suddenly blurted out before my brain even had a chance to process what was happening.

The guy didn’t miss a beat, Why? What brought you to that decision?. Alright brain, you had taken control the first time, go ahead. But this time I didn’t have an answer. That’s because my first statement hadn’t been entirely true. You see, J-Bird and I just aren’t religious people, but not only that, we just don’t talk about it very much. Oh, we’re just more spiritual than religious, but you guys have a good day. That’s all I could tell the guy at the moment.

I then realized that J-Bird and I need to DTR [define the relationship] with Jesus.

to be continued…BrennaG

If she really had that much money, she’d wear cuter shoes.

I’m referring to the new girl at work. Now, before I explain too much about her, let me first say that I do like her. Not like her in that I’d be friends with her or that I’d hang out with her or I’d go out of my way to be nice, but I’ll compliment her hair on a good day. She’s annoying though. Really annoying. Like 63% of the time.

Her name is Tina and the first time I met her she made fun of my car for being too small. I call it economical. She drives a large crossover, smokes, and constantly brags about how much money she has. This bothers me. I don’t think it’s jealousy, I think I’m genuinely annoyed because I’m not interested in her finances.

Also, if all this were true, she should buy better fucking shoes.



I’m an infamous negotiator, seriously, take me to the flea market.

I had my quarterly review at the print shop I now work for this past week. I went in thinking, I can either ask for a pay raise or not because it’s too soon, either way, I’ll see how the meeting goes and wing it. Toward the end of the meeting my boss, whom I lovingly refer to as Crazy Pants, said I’d get a bonus on my next paycheck. Great! Was this the lead in for asking for a raise? Or him shooing me away so I didn’t ask for one?

Since I wasn’t sure, I negotiated. You see, we have these polo shirts that are the only part of a dress code of any kind that we have…but I want more colors because I felt that my first batch was a set of boring colors. And I can be a bit of a fashionista. So…I said “Crazy Pants, thank you for the bonus, but I need a little more, so you can either give me $1 raise or order me 5 more shirts.”

The shirts won. I left happy, my husband, J-Bird, not so happy with my “negotiation skills” or lack thereof.



It’s been 13,148,719 seconds since I stopped caring.

Well my math may be off. It usually is. Essentially, that’s when everything in my life changed…for the better, that is. I walked out on my job at the dress shop as a manager because they were being bitchy and I took a leap of faith to figure out who I really was.

Not that I know who I am now, I’m just…closer than I was 13,148,800 seconds ago.

I started my semi-dream job as a graphic designer. And well, that’s what I DO. I make art. Of the design kind, but also of other kinds, which I hadn’t done in awhile. Finally after all this time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

So, why do I say I stop caring? You don’t understand. Dress shop=stuffy corporate-pencil skirt-no creativity-too nice to everyone-high heels-dirty backstabbing bitch world. I don’t care about any of that any more. I’ve found sweet freedom.


As always,

Brenna G.

I just found out how P. Diddy feels in the morning.

Oddly enough, he feels not as hungover as you’d expect and actually pretty good. He also finds glitter in places glitter shouldn’t be. You’re probably wondering how I know how P. Diddy feels in the morning…well, I attended a Ke$ha concert with J-Bird.

It’s actually been one of my long running dreams to see Ke$ha in concert for a while now, so I’m pumped that I got the opportunity to rock out with her. My favorite part of the concert may not have been the music, though. No, I’m not one of those people walking around claiming Ke$ha doesn’t have talent or whatever, I just enjoyed seeing everyone’s outfits. Tutus, glitter, drag queens, fish nets, more glitter, bunny ears, and flower halos. Fantastically wonderful. I actually made my own temporary glitter tattoos to wear and wish I could dress that way every day (my job would not allow for this).

Anyway, we partied hard, there was glitter covering everything (even the walk back to the car afterwards…which was 3 blocks away), Ke$ha is awesome and I love her.

Also, glitter is the new black.