Tag Archives: Abby Still Has Issues

Hot and Bothered

We’re in the middle of a heat wave in my area, which by definition means a week of temperatures above 90 degrees with humidity, no rain and a plethora of manic meteorologists taking delight in telling viewers the weather is miserable while they sit inside their air conditioned studios.

I only have one window AC unit, and while I hate feeling absolutely frozen and trudging through snow, I dislike extreme heat even more.

I guess I hate feeling cold and I hate feeling hot—so basically I just hate feeling.

Anyway, my brain is also fried for various reasons—all perfectly legal, mind you—and so this rant will serve double-duty. Like they say, when life hands you lemons, stick them in your bra so people believe you when you complain about boob sweat.

Hot and Bothered

DAY 1. What beautiful weather! Days like these are what get me through the long stretches of winter when I’m stuck scraping ice off my car. Well, minus this humidity. It’s getting a little bit thick.

DAY 2: It’s really heating up out there and no rain is predicted for days, so I should go out and water. However, it’s still nice to sleep with the windows open despite what sounds like a drunken domestic between chipmunks outside.

DAY 3: This isn’t fun anymore. The thermostat in my living room has reached 84 degrees and the birdbath has become a hot tub for small woodland creatures. I can’t crank up the pitiful AC unit even more. I should probably water. Again.

DAY 4: It’s hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk. That is, if you’re into eating chicken excretions off of dirty pavement. Molesting my AC unit is starting to feel a bit awkward, but at least I have an excuse to not wash my hair and run around the house without pants. Considering renting out living room as Bikram yoga studio.

DAY 5: Up at 3 a.m. to go for a walk and mow the grass because it’s already 112 degrees by 6 a.m. Screw it. The grass isn’t growing anyway and if it spontaneously combusts, there’s a chance a hot firefighter will be called to the scene.

DAY 6: GOOD LORD, IT FEELS LIKE AN OVEN. The 5-foot walk from my door to the car soaks me in sweat and my yard is starting to turn brown. I should water. I should straddle the sprinkler and ignore all those looks from the neighbors. I should move to Alaska.

DAY 7: Still sweating. Still bitter. The trash in the garage smells like decaying rats and all I’ve put out there is an empty almond milk container and paper towel tube. WHY DOES MOTHER NATURE HATE ME?

DAY 8: I’m in hell. No, seriously. Between this heat and people saying, “It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity” and taking pictures of the thermostat on their car dashboard, I must be in hell.

DAY 9: Grocery shopping almost leads to a speeding ticket because I have to get home before the food that I bought melts in the car. I refuse to water the grass. Screw the flowers. In fact, screw nature.

DAY 10: The words “cold front” are used to describe something other than my mood and it’s finally in the low 80s. Relief might just be in sight, but my pants?

I make no promises there. 


Before I go, two  quick things. First, you have until Friday to enter my giveaway for $50 of cool Knock Knock stuff. Even if you don’t enter, the comments on that post are gold. You people are gold, I tell you!

Second, I’m honored to be part of another big HUGE giveaway with a bunch of other fabulous ladies.

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As you can see, the loot includes six books, a gift card and other fancy (free) things. So in between sympathizing with me about the heat and entering my giveaway, head on over to Robyn’s at Hollow Tree Ventures and enter to win all the fabulous prizes.

Stay cool!

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Talking Dirty

If you’re new here, I should tell you that I love my garden and flowers.

The OCD in me takes immense pleasure in dead-heading petunias, picking green beans and pulling out weeds (in both my yard and any other surface that makes me feel twitchy—it’s actually really a curse.)

While Michigan weather is unpredictable, it’s usually a safe bet that you can start planting things any time after Memorial Day, which means we’re getting down and dirty around Chez Abby these days.

But a few trips to the greenhouse and Home Depot combined with my useless need to make puns have enlightened (questionable word choice) me to the fact that the simple act of gardening could also be a great bed to plant the seeds for a budding romance—or at least leaf a good first impression.

So if you’re someone like me whose relationship status is often: “Drunk on allergy medication and just cleaned out the cat’s crap box,” this guide might be just what you need to get down and dirty.

Get Down and Dirty

The most important thing to remember is that no trip to Home Depot (or similar home improvement store that will make you feel like you need all new handles for your cabinets) is official until you loudly proclaim either, “I just want a good stud finder!” or “Where my hose at?”

This establishes your mission—not to simply find tools or get kelp for your yard, but to find someone who will be mowtivated to maybe plant one on you (wink, wink.)

When approached by a possible suitor, be sure to lure them over to the gardening section, as making initial contact around the nails, caulk and nipples is a bit too forward these days—and the puns are entirely too obvious. You’re screwed.

See? Way too obvious.

Once you’ve secured your position in the Garden Center, casually mention that you’re an entre-manure who wants to create Miracle-Gro for small boobs. If they don’t get your humor, move on, as brilliance cannot be wasted on those who can’t till it like it is.

But what’s that, you say? They dug what you said?

Then with the fertile groundwork planted, continue to cultivate the conversation by sharing that although you’re “a bit rough around the hedges, you’re really a kick in the plants” or that you “just finished trimming your bush and are looking for veggies that will ex-seed all your expectations.”

They will probably counter with something that sounds like, “Umm…I’m rooting for you—ha, ha—but I thought you were looking for the aisle that contained cow shit for your garden.” That should be interpreted as, “I think that weed make a great pair.”

But if you’re forced to leave without your stud finder or hose, don’t feel too bad. Remember, it’s the squeaky wheel gets the grease, and at the end of the day, you’re still single and ready to shingle.

gnomes

And of course, there’s no place like gnome.

Like the blog? Buy the NEW book!

Thanks again to everyone who has shared and will continue to share—hint, hint—the news about my new book. If you read it and don’t hate it, I would love for you to write an Amazon review. If you hated it, then you probably hate my blog. And raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, but that’s okay. Some people are weird. Don’t feel bad.

Anyway, the winner of the Amazon gift card as chosen by random.org is Marie! I’ll send you an email today.

Spring Word Search

This isn’t a “real” post.

Well, technically it is considering that I wrote words and published it here, but the “real” post will come on Tuesday, so be prepared for mild amusement and/or disappointment and the winner of my giveaway.

Yes, the giveaway!

The real reason for this post that isn’t really a post is to remind you to 1) read my last post 2) humor me by possibly buying the book and 3) leave a comment so you can be entered to win the Amazon gift card.

With your “to-do” clearly established, I will also add that I wrote this post that isn’t really a post is to 4) thank everyone who HAS read, shared and commented on my last post and 5) welcome all the new followers as a result of those shares and a magical alignment of the stars.

Because I’m saving a “real” post for Tuesday—good lord, I better make sure I have a post done by Tuesday—I thought today would be a good time to do another “Word Search” post.

For the uninitiated, I get some very random and often humorous search terms that lead to my blog. Sometimes I can tell what post led them here, but sometimes I’m confused and a little bit disturbed.

For example, I’m not sure what it means that “emotional constipation” has shown up on the list more than once, but I don’t feel like that’s very favorable for me. Actually, it’s not very favorable for whoever is Googling “emotional constipation.” They really should start up a blog.

Anyway, I present the latest Word Search installment (with my notes in parenthesis.)

  • I’ve got on my big girl panties, bitch bra and shitkicker boots
  • I wish it were socially acceptable to hibernate (whoever Googled this—we should be friends)
  • Fine, whatever. I’ll just date myself.
  • I love stickers and raccoons hunting with pellet guns (who doesn’t?)
  • Peegret—when you wish you would have gone to the bathroom before you left
  • I have to be naked when I drive
  • Banana clips or Polish babushkas? (Forget the meaning of life. This is the important stuff, people.)
  • Woman cites “He hit ‘reply all’” as reason for insanity. Judge accepts plea.
  • Vanilla Ice in a thong
  • Traveling gnomes using the squatty potty and avocado cutters (at the same time?)
  • I wrote “bitch” in my GPS and it lead me to your driveway (I saw you pull in and dove behind the couch)
  • My grandma is totes cray-cray (probably because you use the words “totes” and “cray-cray,” which technically aren’t even real words)
  • My dog calms down after I put a dress on her (please send pictures)
  • I would exercise but it makes me spill my drink
  • I like putting on a show for the neighbor lady with my tater tots (let’s assume tater tots is NOT a euphemism for anything else, shall we?)
  • Boy squirrel glued in a French maid dress cleaning the house (is this a thing? I would totally sign up for that.)
  • I’ll be your dork

I will be your dork for as long as you guys will put up with me. And if you’ve put up with me all the way to the end of this post that isn’t really a post, I will remind you again to enter the giveaway and then come back next time when one person will be announced the winner and everyone else will be disappointed and probably never visit again.

But for now, enjoy your weekend. Unless you’re the person who Googled “I want to nurture Martha Stewart and help her with her bra wedgie.”

In that case, you’re on your own.

Like the blog? Buy the book.

Abby Still Has Issues and a Giveaway!

I wrote another book.

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You probably have questions, like “Why in the world did you think that’s a good idea?” “Why should anyone buy this? and “How did it feel to find a picture of yourself as a toddler in a bathing suit and realize your boobs are still the same size?”

Well—you little ray of sunshine, you—perhaps writing this book wasn’t a good idea and maybe no one will buy it. But people actually buy Snuggies, so I figured it was worth giving it a go once again.

I say “again” because there are a few of you out there I roped  into buying my first book (or that found it propping open the door of a portable toilet at a campground somewhere in the rural Midwest) who read it and might decide to give this one a go in the comfort of indoor plumbing.

If you do, I thank you in advance for reading this book, the second compilation of neurotic essays from this blog.

(“Neurotic,” not “erotic,” although if that will help sell some copies, I can try and slip in a few pictures of me longingly gazing at a new jar of vegan pesto or something equally lusty. Just let me know.)

Will anyone buy it? I don’t know.

But I’ve had at least 12 people ask me to write another book, and 7 of them weren’t even related to me or drunk at the time of request. Because I’m a people pleaser when that pleasing will validate my many insecurities, I decided to cater to my audience of dozens.

You’re welcome Mom and that creepy guy from Facebook.

Actually, I did it because writing is the one thing I really take pride in, the thing that keeps me afloat when I feel like I can barely keep my head above water (ahem, every day.) So while this book is far from perfect or fancy—much like me, it has some issues — if I can share a little humor with even a dozen people that I am or am not related to that are either sober or half in the bag, then it’s been worth it to me.

And I hope it’s worth it to you.

But if you hate this new book, I suggest you drink while reading it or use it to prop open the door of a portable toilet at a campground somewhere for someone to find.

I’m all about paying it forward.


Speaking of which, here’s the deal.

First, you buy this book HERE in paperback,  HERE in Kindle or out of the back of my car if you see me in person. Then you share this post via Twitter, Facebook, running up and down the street yelling that you just bought a book, etc.  Finally, leave a comment below telling me what you did or plan to do.*

Why?

Because you’ll be entered in a random drawing for a $20 Amazon gift card you can use to buy another copy of my book (since you’re buying it right now) or a life-sized Justin Bieber cutout. Your call. I won’t judge…that much.

I will announce the winner in a post on June 4, so get thee to the Amazon.com!

*If you don’t plan on doing anything but still want to leave a comment, that’s fine. But if you win, I will demand that the gift card can only be used to buy a life-sized Justin Bieber cutout. Although future posts here include underwear and pick-up lines at Home Depot,  I do have some dignity, my friends.