because behaving is boring

Monthly Archives: September 2011

Dear Adele,

I’m not a fan.

I mean, I’m sure you’re a very nice person…and you do have a pretty voice…but your songs? My God woman, your songs (the ones I have heard, at least) are so depressing. I can be in a perfectly good mood when all of a sudden you come on the radio with your gloom and doom, woe is me attitude and BAM! Suddenly I want to find a corner that I can curl up in and cry.


I just get this vaguely psychotic vibe from your lyrics.


In Someone Like You: “I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited /But I couldn’t stay away, I couldn’t fight it. /I had hoped you’d see my face and that you’d be reminded /That for me it isn’t over”

Oh, honey…

Look, obviously this guy is no longer interested in your particular brand of loony… And barging in on he and his new girlfriend isn’t gonna make him change his mind. I’ll bet they had a good chuckle after you left about how desperate you are. It IS over. Stop desperately clinging to the past and just. Move. On.

Every time I hear this song I’m reminded of a certain angry Canadian female screaming You Oughta Know (“I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner…”) And I think we can all agree that while it was a very popular song that’s not exactly the kind of image you want to project. The scorned and angry bitch thing has been done, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re just not living up to Alanis’s legacy.

Not Drunk Enough?


Set Fire To The RainI’ll Be Waiting

We get it. You’re nuts. You’re a stage 5 clinger. You’re the chick that starts naming babies on the second date and does a nightly drive-by to see if he has company. If you call and he doesn’t answer, I’ll bet you just keep hitting redial until he does because you really, really wanted to say hi.

Look, I know that breakups hurt… I think the best thing you can do is move on with your life. Get some close friends together, get your hair did, put on a pretty dress and have a night out.

Just make sure to give someone your cell phone because I certainly don’t want to hear I Drunk Dialed Your Heart the next time I turn on the radio, mmmmkay?



He's a Colts fan

That’s my dog. Well, to be fair…he lives with my mom and dad. They buy his food and take him to the vet and whatnot but I found him and convinced my parents to buy him. I think he remembers who rescued him from that boring cage in a pet store 11 years ago.

Rooty is quite possibly the coolest dog on the planet. He doesn’t do any stupid tricks that other dogs seem so proud of, like rolling over or playing dead. When he sits up it ain’t because one of us told him to, it’s because he wants something dammit.

He hasn’t met a toy he can’t destroy in 5 minutes. Just before Christmas the year that the animal cruelty scandal broke, I discovered a Michael Vick football marked down to a couple of dollars at Wal-Mart. I bought it and wrapped it for Rooty (yes, he has presents under the tree that he gets to open). Like he could smell the animal-hater on that football, Rooty had popped it within the hour and spent the rest of the day prancing through the house with the football carcass in his mouth.

Rooty also occasionally likes to show inanimate objects who’s the boss around here. If you even so much as whisper the words “Rooty, you’d better watch out” he will attack the nearest baseboard heater with the ferocity of whatever would result from a mongoose and a rabid badger mating. He won’t rest until he’s managed to wrestle the front plate off, and most of those plates are now bent.

Don’t tell him I said this, but Rooty is kind of a sissy about some things. He won’t stop shaking on a windy day, he loathes thunder storms and fireworks, and just getting a loaf of bread out will send him (ears back and tail tucked) slinking up the stairs to hide under mom and dad’s bed because sweet Jesus they’re surely getting the damn toaster out!

He’s also afraid of:

-Cardboard wrapping paper tubes

– The sweeper

– Bathing

– Little kids

So on the extremely rare occasion that a UPS or FedEx man comes to our house and leaves the package in front of the door without even knocking because he’s afraid of Rooty? Well that just makes me chuckle. See, Rooty likes to fancy himself quite the badass. This summer he had an altercation with a squirrel AND a bird. He’s chased after deer that made the mistake of wandering into HIS territory, and he isn’t one bit afraid to steal a toy out of a Doberman’s mouth. When the UPS/FedEx man knocked on the door and encountered Rooty barking and hopping and practically vibrating from excitement, he was apparently scarred for life. What a pansy.

It just so happens to be a windy day here, and poor Mister Rooty is terrified. As I’ve been typing this he has squirmed his way under a blanket next to me and has been inching his way onto my lap. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to type with a trembling Jack Russell drooling on your leg?

I mean...Seriously.

Are you guys sick of hearing me whine about things I want yet?


Ok, good.

I love fall for a lot of reasons…Football being one, of course, but also? I adore fall clothing.

Ruche has a ton of cute stuff:















I found these boots at DSW:









Victoria’s Secret has some cute sweaters:



There are a couple of purses at Macy’s I’d definitely love to have:



I want it all!

My Amazon wish list is getting out of hand…

I think that means I need to find employment asap.








You know, I suppose it’s only fitting that this cake was kind of a giant pain in the ass. I mean, I’ve only been a giant pain in my mother’s ass for the last 30 years… Karma sure can be a jerk sometimes.

The whole thing started when I read this post on I Am Baker months ago. If you remember, I made a vertical layer cake for my mom and dad’s anniversary…and I originally wanted to decorate it with roses but I thought I should probably stick with one experiment at a time. I kept going back to that post, though, dreaming of the day I would make a beautiful rose cake.

How convenient that my mom’s birthday was yesterday.

I did a lot of searching for a cake recipe because at first I wanted to make it from scratch. Smitten Kitchen‘s pink lady cake seemed perfect. I then went looking for icing that would taste good and hold up well. I found a few that I thought would be way too sweet and got pretty frustrated…Until I found this crusting cream cheese buttercream frosting. Of course, I had to make things harder than they needed to be, so I started trying to come up with a filling. I mean, I could have easily just put frosting between the layers but that would have been too easy. I dug through a ton of recipes and decided on a strawberry cheesecake filling that I thought wouldn’t be overly sweet.

I started planning this cake about a week and a half ago and even after I had printed the recipes I picked out, I continued to obsess about it. I had dreams about this cake, no kidding.

I decided to make the cake and filling on Monday, then make the icing and decorate it Tuesday. Luckily, mom had things to do both days so I’d have time to get it done without her nosing around.

I ended up using a cake mix and adding sweetened, frozen strawberries (that I pulverized with my immersion blender). Next time I’ll make it from scratch and use a recipe that allows for the extra liquid…This cake ended up being extremely dense and moist.  I really should have paid more attention to the recipe for the filling because when I finished making it I had a TON. It was quite tasty, but it had a very runny consistency that had me a tad worried. Still, I put it in the fridge and said a prayer that it would firm up overnight.

Tuesday morning I checked the filling and it had firmed up beautifully. Whew

I made the icing using my mom’s KitchenAid mixer. Apparently, when the recipe says to add the powdered sugar in gradually, you should probably listen.


Once I finished cleaning up the powdered sugar explosion, I iced and decorated the cake. I have to say, I’m extremely proud of how it turned out:


I had everything done before mom got home so I left mom a couple of notes and ran home to take a shower and get ready for her birthday dinner.

Betcha can't tell there's a cake under that bag!

We ended up ordering 4 different kinds of pizza for dinner. If that isn’t serious partying I don’t know what is. We ate some cake and had mom open her presents before she and dad took my grandma home. I think she enjoyed her birthday and she loves the new laptop.

Now I’d love to say that I got lots of good pictures of her birthday celebration…but my camera decided to die on me after I took two pictures and one video and there were no AA batteries to be found. Unfortunately, every picture in this post is from my crapberry Blackberry. Sorry for the poor quality.

Everyone liked the cake, but it ended up being incredibly rich. I’ll definitely stick to a basic white cake recipe next time.

This ended up being a really long post…


The End.

Yesterday, my dad and I were talking about the Colts game when mom walked up waving a piece of paper. When there was a break in the conversation, she said what she needed to say and headed back to the kitchen. I asked if she had been waving that paper to get permission to speak.

Mom: Well, I didn’t want to interrupt you while you were talking about football…


On a completely unrelated note…

Joy. Pure, bottled joy.

I picked up some Sriracha hot sauce while I was at the store today. Have you tried this stuff?! It’s amazing. I’ve got recipes bookmarked, but for now? Hell, I’d be happy just eating it with a spoon.

Please go buy this as soon as possible. Your taste buds will thank you.**


**I am not being paid to say this… The lovely people that make Sriracha hot sauce don’t know who I am. I’m just telling you guys because I love you.

OH, and while I’m updating this here blog o’ mine…

Yesterday I wasn’t able to watch the Colts game because I had to run an errand in Lafayette (which is about 30-45 minutes away) so I had to settle for listening to it on the radio.

Side note: Listening to a football game while driving probably isn’t the best idea. I got quite a few strange looks from other drivers.

Anyway, on the way home I listened to the post-game show. I happen to follow them on Twitter, so when some guy called in suggesting we trade players for yet another new quarterback I felt the need to respond.

Imagine my surprise when all of a sudden I hear MY NAME on the radio…And MY TWEET being read. Even better? The guys both agreed with me, then went on to explain why.

Celebrity status achieved? I THINK SO.


From Wiktionary:


contumacious (comparative more contumacioussuperlative most contumacious)

  1. Contemptuous of authority; willfully disobedientrebellious.                              Synonyms
I’ve been asked how I ended up naming my blog Willfully Disobedient…and to be honest, it just popped into my head one night. I was trying to come up with a short phrase that would describe me or at least one strong aspect of my personality, but none of my ideas sounded right . I had decided to give up and get some sleep, but just as soon as my head hit my pillow it hit me…Willfully Disobedient
So there you have it.
Anyone that knows me would tell you that’s a pretty accurate way to describe me. I don’t do things the way you’re supposed to and I follow my own set of rules.
I’ve gone against the grain my whole life. When other little girls were wearing dresses, having tea parties and playing with Barbies, I was busy playing in the dirt with my Tonka dump trunk and collecting He-Man toys. Oh sure, I had Barbies…but my Battle Armor He-Man was just way cooler.

One of my first words was dirt, kid you not. According to my mom, my official first-ever word was Dada, followed by dirt and then Pepsi. I had my priorities in line from an early age.

You know, I tried to do things the way you’re supposed to. When I graduated from high school I went to college because…well, because that’s just what you do, right?

That lasted for a whole year.

I’m glad I went…I had a lot of great experiences, met a lot of people I’m still friends with today and I might not be with The Boyfriend now if I hadn’t gone. College just wasn’t my thing. Correction: College was awesome, but they expected you to go to all of these pesky classes and do things like study.  That’s the part I had a problem with.

Obviously I’m not good at doing things the way you’re supposed to.

This morning I had to get up early and get dressed up for an appointment. I stopped and bought a pair of pantyhose because a.) it’s friggin’ cold outside all of a sudden, and b.) I firmly believe in the power of pantyhose.

After I got out of the shower I dried off and started getting dressed. I picked up the package of pantyhose and noticed that it had specific instructions on it to ‘Open from bottom’.

Well screw you, pantyhose package. I opened you from the top because I DO WHAT I WANT.

Instructions be damned!

Willful disobedience indeed.




I know they kill other bugs but they have disgusting and creepy qualities that far outweigh that one good thing about them.

Eight legs?


Known to linger in dark corners?

Hang out in webs waiting to trap and kill other bugs?


I understand that not all spiders are poisonous, but when I see a spider I just go ahead and assume that it IS poisonous and wants to inflict a slow and painful death upon me. So basically, spider in front of me? It’s full of lethal poison and must immediately be squashed.

Not by me, of course. I’m too busy panicking and furiously pointing to do any squashing.

Thank goodness for The Boyfriend. I spend a lot of time at his house and it just happens to be surrounded by fields. Being that far out in the country and being an old (read: drafty) house = spiders.

Last night, I went in the bedroom to change into a pair of pajama pants. The pants I wanted were sitting on a blanket, and when I went to reach for them a spider jumped out at me. It was the biggest, hairiest, blackest spider I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m actually not exaggerating here, it was HUGE (and remember, I lived in Texas for two years).  I screamed and began my usual hop up and down while pointing and yelling for The Boyfriend routine. He’s so used to it he doesn’t even have to ask, he just shows up with a flip-flop and squishes the spider. This time, instead of calling me a sissy, he took one look and said “That IS a big one!” giving it time to scurry away. He was actually going to walk away at that point, leaving the spider to come after me later when I slept or worse…have babies.

Thankfully, I was able to persuade him to track the nasty little bastard down and kill him…After I had jumped to relative safety on the bed. For my own peace of mind I made him show me the body to confirm that it was, in fact, dead.

Being ambushed by a spider when The Boyfriend is around isn’t so bad because he gets to come kill it and be a hero. What really sucks is when I encounter one when he isn’t home.

One morning, I was getting ready to leave after The Boyfriend had already gone to work. I flipped open my laptop bag to pack it up…

Not a pleasant surprise.

I, of course, jumped back about a mile and began screaming and pointing until I realized no one was there to come kill it for me. I picked up a flip-flop and tried to summon every ounce of courage I had, but I just couldn’t do it. Instead, I decided to start hopping around, holding the flip-flop and probably looking like a moron while I tried to figure out what to do.

In the end, I stuffed my laptop’s charger in my purse and carried my laptop with me. I did carefully and quickly flip the laptop bag shut thinking I’d have The Boyfriend dispose of the offensive little beast when he got home from work.

That evening I told The Boyfriend the story and had him open the bag. He shook it, poked at the pockets, and never found the spider. He seemed to think it had moved on to a new home. I disagree. I think the dirty little bastard was hiding in one of the pockets, waiting for me to forget about him and start sticking my hands in there so he could attack.

Needless to say, my laptop bag hasn’t moved from that spot on the floor for a couple of weeks.

If you read my last post and have been wondering how dinner went…I did not shit my pants. We did have a lovely sushi dinner. The Boyfriend used chopsticks successfully and my digestive system behaved. Thank God.

My mom got upset with me because I said s-h-i-t in my blog. “Well…just…that language… You could have said bowel movement instead.”

I don’t think the two words are exactly interchangeable, mom.

BOWEL MOVEMENT! I just stubbed my toe!

Seriously, can you believe that bowel movement?

Gah, that guy is such a bowel movement-head.

She’s gonna bowel movement a brick when she sees that.

Bowel movement on a shingle!

When I was growing up, I didn’t even know the word shit existed… I thought the word was pronounced Shhhhhhhh-T because on the rare occasion my mom cursed, that’s what she said.

She just doesn’t have a love for colorful language like I do, I guess.


So some of this (er, most of this) won’t make sense. I’m just warning you, I’ve had a lot of coffee. A LOT.

Here’s a quick update of what’s been going on around here:

– I’m still unemployed.

– My mom got signed up for online banking. Then she exclaimed “I WILL NEVER USE THAT” and that was the end of her modernizing for that day.

– My mom also learned how to pay at the gas pump. Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll never do that again, either.

– Um, I turned 30. DON’T WORRY, THOUGH! I still find farts hilarious.

– I’ve been cooking. I made chili and macaroni and cheese for my parents. Not on the same day.  Both were delicious.

– I’ve been taking my vitamins every day for a couple of weeks now (ok, I missed two days thanks to a raging hangover). I actually have been losing weight so that’s good.

– I think the weight loss has been partially due to the fact that I haven’t had a solid shit since I started taking the vitamins.  Like, 3 times a day. AT LEAST.

– Sorry, tmi?

The following conversation just happened:

Me: The Boyfriend and I might be going out for sushi if he’s done working in time. Maybe I should skip my vitamins this evening.

Mom: No, you need to take them.

Me: But… I’m a little worried about mixing raw fish and shit-your-pants vitamins. There could be disastrous consequences.

Mom: Well, you need to take your vitamins. Do you want a pad?


Mom: Well…


Mom: Do you want a pad?

Me: If my relationship is ruined because I shit my pants in a restaurant in front of my boyfriend and everyone else, I’m blaming you.


She really didn’t seem all that worried.


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