Monthly Archives: February 2012

I like to bitch about people


Everyone has hobbies. People like to scrap book, sew, cook, hunt, fish, collect finger nail clippings of past lovers…all the normal stuff.

A hobby that I personally hold very dear to my heart is complaining about bitches that PISS me off.

The positive people can try to argue with me and say this doesn’t qualify as a hobby. But they can suck it at this point because they have yet to live in Glendive, Montana where staring at the carpet for hours at a time trying to find patterns in it is a hobby.

Anyway, something that has been a pet peeve to me for a while is the way girls take compliments.

I don’t know how many times I’ve read/heard about situations where a guy went out of a way to tell a girl that she was pretty/beautiful/gorgeous to get the response:


Bitch please. If a guy is taking the time to give you a compliment, then I think you shouldn’t be a dumb ass and try to fish for more.

That’s right. I have a vagina. I know what you’re up too. Knock it off.

Guys like confidence. It’s a very attractive trait to possess.Even if you aren’t confident, for the love of God pretend. It’ll start to come naturally if you fake it for a while (Yes, that’s what she said). Guys aren’t going to want to compliment girls if they think it has to be an hour long debate on the fact that you are NOT ugly.

This bitch session goes with a story of how I learned this the hard way:

Back when I was a sophomore in high school…a friend told me she was putting herself down to get compliments from a guy. I don’t like to think anything through, so I thought to myself

“Oh hey, I want to be told I’m pretty. I’m going to try that next time a guy compliments me”

A few days later, a cute boy I’d been developing a crush on for a while was texting me. He was sweet enough to tell me he thought I looked very pretty that day.

I saw it was the perfect opportunity for an ego boost. I replied “OH NO I DIDN’T. MY HAIR WAS FRIZZY. I FELT FAT. SO YEAH…NOT WHAT YOU’D CALL PRETTY”.

He decided that was a good time to tell me “Yeaaah…guys like confidence.”

So then the epiphany that I was being a dumb ass hit me. It was time to try to reverse what I’d done.

My infamous text I’ll never forget sending said the following:

“Oh no! I didn’t mean I was ugly. I think I’m pretty too. I have so much confidence. It’s almost annoying how much confidence I have. I’m probably one of the most confident people ever. No worries about that.”

It’s been three years, and I have yet to get the reply to that text. I gave up hope about seven months ago.

So take it from me, when a guy is nice to you SAY THANK YOU and maybe add that you appreciate him telling you that. So it will maybe get around the fact that girls actually LIKE it when guys are respectful.



This is for you P.Wee


Let me tell you about my little brother….

-Tucker is a little guy for his age. He’s always been smaller than everyone, so he decided from the moment he could talk that he had to be at least three times louder than everyone so he’d be noticed. They put him in speech therapy, had doctors check his ears, and then just came to the conclusion he was a loud little bastard.

-Tucker is fuckin tough. He rides bulls, but he really showed what a bad ass he was playing high school football. It didn’t matter how hard a guy twice his size would hit him, he’d bounce up ready for more.

-Tucker does not give up. Ever. If he has his mind set on something, there is no way he is giving up until it’s done. It can be frustrating, but I admire the hell out of him for it. I hope he knows he’s making his obnoxious, over protective big sister proud.

I have a funny part to this blog post, but I’m going to get the mushy stuff out of the way first.

I would take a bullet for Tucker. I would knock anyone out who even thought about hurting him. Tucker and I have been through a lot together, and I know that if there is ever a time when we aren’t close, I won’t be the same. Hearing his laugh when he thinks something is genuinely funny can make me forget about anything that’s stressing me out. He’s a wonderful human being with a great heart. I’m so lucky to be able to call him my brother. 

When we were little tykes, Dad was attempting to work on equipment out on our ranch one summer day. Tucker and I were being nothing but a pain in the ass to him, so he decided to give us some walkie talkies to get us out of his hair.

You should have seen Tucker’s excitement. He was probably four years old with chubby little legs, blonde hair, and big blue eyes with glasses that magnified them so he looked surprised all the time. I wouldn’t admit it then even if I was bribed with the chance to meet NSYNC, but he was fucking adorable. He yelled in my face “TENZIE! THIS IS SO AWESOME!”. I was the biggest dick of a sister at that point in my life and found amusement in torturing him.

If he was watching TV, I’d steal the remote. If he was annoying me, I’d put on this gorilla mask and chase him all over while he screamed with genuine fear (that mask quickly disappeared after he refused to sleep in his own bed for two months after). I would tell him over and over again that Santa wasn’t real. I made up a crafty little ad to sell him on the internet and was figuring it out when Mom happened to look over my shoulder. He put up with a lot.

Anyway, Tucker was so excited to pretend we were spies and run all over the ranch communicating via walkie talkie. He was dancing around and squealing with joy. I went along with his plan, but I had something way different planned. We ran around for a little while till I was sure he wouldn’t catch onto what I was up too.

I said “Hey P.Wee, why don’t you go out as far as you can, and I’ll sit up on the hay bales and talk to you.”

Well of course he was like “OTAY TENZIE.” and waddled away from me as fast as he could. The poor little bastard suspected nothing.

I crawled up onto the bales and waited till he was far enough out that no one could come to his rescue.

I heard through my walkie talkie “TENZIE, THIS IS SO COOL. CAN YOU STILL HEAR ME?”

And I replied “Tucker…I don’t want to scare you…but there is a pack of coyotes running your way. They look hungry.”

It was like watching a little squealing pig with clothes trying to win the 400.

He was yelling as he ran “TEEENZIE HELP ME!”




My dad came up just in time to see Tucker moving his tiny legs as fast as he could while screaming like a banshee. He looked at Tucker, looked at me, looked at Tucker, and said “JESUS CHRIST! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HIM THIS TIME?”

The walkie talkies were taken away, and I wasn’t too popular for a couple of days.