I’m a bona fide grown-up, ya’ll.

I had absolutely no intention of posting today, seeing as a good portion of my day was going to be spent in the car jamming to Taylor Swift and Andy Grammer on my way to the “Big City”.

Alas, it seems the universe had other plans for me.

After getting my things packed up, directions printed out, and my medium iced vanilla latte and orange raspberry scone purchased, I was on my way.

However, 30 minutes into my trip, my plans were thwarted when my car was overtaken by a deafening *thud*, *thud*, *THUD*, *THUD*, *THUD* coming from the rear of my car. I immediately pulled over to investigate.

That’s when I found this:

2015-07-28 17.12.20

Okay, so it’s not the best picture, but what you’re looking at is a nine inch metal rod sticking out of my tire.

How that stupid metal rod managed to be missed by every other car on the road but mine is beyond me. All I knew was that it was causing a racket while banging against my wheel well, and causing air to shoot out of my tire at a ridiculous pace.

Thank GOD this happened directly across the road from a bar.

Thank GOD there just so happened to be a bar in the middle of nowhere, 10 miles in either direction from the nearest town.

Thank GOD that bar had opened just a half hour earlier.

Thank GOD I had the presence of mind to sign up for emergency road side assistance when purchasing my car insurance.

SO, I made a u-turn, pulled into the bar parking lot and pulled out my cell phone.

No cell service. NONE. Zip. Zero. Zilch. I had forgotten that once you leave the confines of my small town you lose cell service for the next 40 miles before hitting another signal strong enough to pick up. Which is why I was so thankful the bar was actually OPEN at 11:30 on a TUESDAY.

So, I went in, asked to use the phone, and spent the next half hour on the phone with roadside assistance, trying to help them figure out my location. (When you live in the boonies, and all towns are at least 20 minutes apart… it can be a hassle trying to locate someone. I’m sure the operator was like, “What the hell?! There’s not even a town on the map by that name! Where the heck is this girl?!”) To make matters worse, the reception on the land line was ridiculously bad. I spent half the conversation asking the operator to repeat herself. After that got figured out, I had to wait another 60 minutes before help from the nearest town could be dispatched to my location at the bar in the middle of nowhere.

So, while I waited, the bartender gave me a Coke and turned the channel to HGTV while we chatted amiably about fixer-uppers and DIY rennovations. At the bar. In the middle of nowhere.

FINALLY, the help arrived, the dude replaced my tire with a spare lickety-split, and I was headed back home to make an appointment with the nearest service station to have my tire replaced… once I was able to get cell service again… which wasn’t until I rolled back into town… 2 and a half hours later.

SO, my plans to pack up my belongings and get them moved to my new place will have to wait until tomorrow. My plans to pick up my sister from far away for a short visit will have to be undertaken by someone else.


So much for plans…

The best part of this whole ordeal? I was a total grown up about it. I didn’t have a hissy fit. I didn’t cry. I didn’t throw my hands in the air like a helpless damsel in distress. I just dealt with it.

That’s epic, peeps. Past Annie would totally have done all of the above before pulling herself together enough to figure out what to do. Present Annie? She was totally unfazed. She pulled up her big girl pants, took a deep breath, and got the job done. No crying. No wailing. No hissy fitting. Just normal, responsible, problem solving.

I honestly didn’t know I had it in me.

I think this officially makes me a bona fide grown-up, ya’ll.


Insert something pithy and insightful here…

Because I have nothing.

So, you guys are going to need to fend for yourselves for one more day.

Okay, maybe two more days.

Scratch that…

Five more days.

Maybe six. Possibly seven.

But definitely not eight. Definitely not eight…


No, I won’t torture you with eight.

Unless something really pressing comes up.

Anyway… my point being…

Screw it. I have no point.

It’s too hot to have a point.

I’m kind of dying over here peeps.

Clearly, no one cares.

Where’s the love?

Jerk wads.

I don’t even know why I’m posting right now. I have things to DO, peeps. Paperwork to fill out for my new job (95% of which I do not understand so I’m hoping I can wing it and BS my way through it well enough that it doesn’t require me to stop by the office and fill out additional forms. You know… kinda like college?), things to get organized for the Sibling Moving Party Extravaganza which will commence on Wednesday (Seriously, thank God for siblings. How would we move from one place to another without them? I mean, it’s basically in their contract that they have to help out with that stuff because of being blood related n’ things…), lessons to plan (Oh, who am I kidding? Planning any sort of lesson will NOT be taking place until I can get the rest of my life under control…), another moving extravaganza to organize so I can move the rest of my belongings to my new place (Thanks to the ass hat, things actually ARE that complicated…) a sister from far away to visit with, copious amounts of coffee to drink, and puddles of sweat to mop up because this heat wave doesn’t seem to be GOING AWAY.


So… it may be a few days before I have something worthwhile to say. But hey, I’m sure I’ll engage in all kind of epic road ragery this week as I trek back and forth to the “Big City”. So, stay tuned for that. Or don’t. Whatevs. But you’ll be missing out if you don’t. So, consider yourselves warned…



Too. Freakin’. Hot.

I know what ya’ll are thinking…

Ya’ll are thinking,

Where the heck is Annie? And why the heck is she slacking on her weekly “Hmm…” Post? What a jerk…”

Am I right?

You know I so totally am.

You see, I would be writing my weekly “Hmm…” Post, but my brain has presently melted into a giant puddle of mush thanks to this recent heat wave.

It’s a wonder I can even write this post…


And there is no AC, people.


My day has basically consisted of this:

It’s not fit for man or beast out there.

It’s gross.

I’m pretty sure I’m getting sweat all over the keyboard as I type this.

Hopefully, this breaks tomorrow so I can regale you with “Hmm…” worthy tales.

Or not…

Maybe we’ll just skip this week.

Maybe I’m just getting lazy.

Maybe I should go sit in front of the fan again.

Stupid weather.

Today’s Bitter Rant

Disclaimer: If you are a fan of emojis, Bob Dylan, birthdays or Florida, you may want to skip this post. I’m just bitter because I haven’t had my coffee yet, and thus cannot be held responsible for anything written in this post.

  • Emojis. I don’t know where people get these things. They’re all over Facebook, my text messages, peoples’ blogs… And they use them for EV-ER-Y-THING. Bad day? Sad emoji. Starbucks double mocha latte? Happy emoji. Dog just completed obedience training at the head of the class? Lollipop emoji????  I don’t even know what half of them mean. I’m still making faces with punctuation marks like a 95 year old grandmother. And I’m still confused as to what an emoji even is. They used to call them emoticons. Remember that, old people? Now they’re emojis? Why the name change? What’s the difference? It’s not that I have a problem with emojis… it’s just that I feel out of the loop which makes me feel old and cranky, and yet I’m still too lazy to download (Or upload? See? I don’t even know the difference…) an emoji app onto my phone.  *sigh*  These whipper-snappers and their technological thinga-ma-jiggers…

No, Julia. The level of incompetence on this blog is staggering…

  • Bob Dylan. Are there any other Bob Dylan fans out there? My brother thinks he’s a musical genius if not a demigod. Something about the lyricist of his generation blah, blah, blah. I personally can’t get through a single one of his songs without banging my head against a wall. That voice? Who can listen to the lyrics with that voice? I’m sure he is some kind of musical genius, it’s just that… I can’t even when it comes to Bob Dylan. But what do I know? I’m just over here all, “OOH! Taylor Swift came out with a new song? SQUEEEEEE!!!!”  (Clearly, I am a 30 year old stuck with a 16 year old’s musical preference…)

  • Birthdays. Why do people have to have birthdays when it’s inconvenient for me to buy them a gift? Why do they have to remember my birthday in the first place? If they didn’t remember my birthday, there would be no need to remember their birthday. But because they did remember my birthday, I am forced into remembering their birthday or risk looking like the big, fat jerk that I am. DUDES. STOP HAVING BIRTHDAYS. It is inconvenient and expensive. Not that I want you to die or anything… just… you know… stop acknowledging your days of birth so then I don’t have to either. Geeze. What part of this plan do you not understand?

It’s not that complicated, people…

  • Florida. The Invictus Games are coming to the United States. Yay! To Florida. Boo! I know. I’m sorry. That was mean. I apologize to all the Floridians out there. It’s just that… for the last year and a half or so… I’ve had this thing about Florida and Floridians. As in… they bug the crap out of me. I don’t even know why. It’s like Wisconsin and New Jersey. I just don’t like them. I don’t even have a good reason. It’s harrible and bigoted and dumb. But I can’t help it. So, when I heard the Invictus Games were coming to Florida, I was all…

Which was quickly followed by…

I mean… what can Florida offer besides alligators, crocodiles and the most magical place on earth? (Which, isn’t even the most magical place on earth. It’s a place where sweaty, tired, cranky tourists stand in line with their screaming toddlers for hours on end to ride a single ride while they pray to God to put them out of their misery and let the vacation end early. How is that magical???) Florida is kinda like the armpit of the U.S. No… no, wait. That’s New Jersey. Which would make Florida what… the crotch of the U.S.? Hey, Military Heroes! Come join us in the crotch of the U.S.!  Because you deserve our admiration and praise???

I’m sorry. That was mean. Florida is wonderful. Floridians are awesome. And what do I know? I’m just bitter because I haven’t had my coffee yet this morning. Sorry, dudes.

Seriously. I apologize. That was uncalled for. You can make fun of my home state any time you like. Because seriously… we are LAME. And from what I hear… relatively ugly. True story. So, I don’t even have the authority to pass judgment on you. Sorry about that.

And on that note, I should go get that coffee before I start World War III… or Civil War II. Or… something equally disturbing.

Over n’ out, good buddies.


I’m leaking money again

Aw, crap.

I’m leaking money again, you guys.

  • First month’s rent and deposit down on an apartment.
  • New furniture to be gotten.
  • U-Haul to be rented to help move new furniture.
  • New contact lenses to be gotten.
  • New haircut. (Okay, you may consider that frivolous, but dudes, my hair had taken over my head. This was an emergency.)
  • Gas for the many, many, MANY trips back and forth to the new digs.
  • New towels, bath accessories, end tables, kitchen appliances to be bought because in my grief and anguish of last summer I LET THE ASS HAT KEEP EVERYTHING I OWN…

It’s just…


I am not a spender. I am a saver. So, to watch myself go through all this money I had saved for circumstances just as these… even though it makes sense… it’s still torture. Also? Knowing that I will not be able to build back up those savings anytime soon because I will basically be working for free, is also torture.

Dwight feels me…

Did I mention I HATE money? It is seriously the bane of my existence. Also? Loving it is the root of all evil, so there’s that to consider…

I’m sorry… what was I saying?

Oh, yes. Money is a harrible idea. Whoever invented it should be taken out back and given a strong talking to. This is why I should be independently wealthy. This is why I should get together with P. Harry. (Henceforth, this shall be his name… because it’s more fun to say than the whole title which is just too stuffy for me. OOH! This may need to be added to my lexicon…)

But, seriously, peeps.

Money is harrrrrrdddddd….

True story.



Things That Made Me Go, “Hmm…” – Week 36

Guess what, guys? I actually have headlines to work with this week. Actual. Headlines. Ones that made me go “Hmm…”. How exciting is that?!


So, let’s just jump right in, shall we?

  • This revelation came out yesterday…. As though it’s actual “news” somehow. And you just can’t help but feel badly for her. I mean, she was SIX. She’s now 89. Her uncle was clearly a whack-a-doodle. Just give her a break, people. Geeze…
  • The Donald said this the other day… And you can’t help but feel badly for everyone ever associated with the dude. I mean… seriously? SERIOUSLY?! This is how you plan on winning the Republican nomination? How’s that working out for you? You dumbass. Where were you during the Vietnam war? Living off Daddy’s trust fund applying for deferments? You dumbass…
  •  This happened this week. I personally think we should save everyone a boat load of time, money and resources and just give Iran a couple of our nuclear bombs. I mean, that’s the end result we’re all working towards, isn’t it? ….  Oh, it’s not?  …..  Well, I’ll be darned. Who knew?!
  • Amazon Prime Day was this past Wednesday. And it was a big, fat, failury (No, it’s not a real word, but I just made it one. Because that’s how I roll.) failure. I mean, don’t get me wrong: Waitlists are the bomb, but I didn’t sign up to be a Prime member to sit on a waiting list. C’mon, Amazon. Get it together.
  • That amazing bruise that was supposed to show up on my foot after dropping a picture on it didn’t pan out like I had hoped. The goose egg is gone, and all that remains is a slight grayish spot where this horrific, ghastly, abominable bruise should have been. Alas, it was not meant to be. And now I am sad.

Sad kitty has a sad.

  • In Annie-related news, I finally found myself that ever-elusive apartment. Did I fill you guys in on the apartment hunt from hell? I didn’t? Well, that will be a story for another time… because it was this whole… thing. But glory be, I finally found myself a place and shall be moving forthwith. Well, not exactly forthwith.. more like a fortnight. But it’s happening, peeps. It. Is. Happening.

Alrighty, Aphrodite… that’s all I have for this week. Over n’ out, good buddies.