China fucking scares me

So I haven't been doing much by way of entries, and I'll explain that in another post. Let's just say high heels tried to kill me and then I decided it'd be awesome to rapid fire wound myself like I was some sort of emo child on a coffee bender.

BUT, some things are too good to pass up. For that, I'm posting the following conversation with our very own crab battle star.

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The Ronas: Quin. Look. The Chinese are fucking decapitated heads.


The Ronas: Tell me why.


Quin: uh.


Quin: i.


Quin: uh.


Quin: I...


Quin: I don't...


Quin: Uh.


The Ronas: TELL


The Ronas: ME


The Ronas: WHY


Quin: Wut


Quin: I... dont.


The Ronas: I'm sorry, we were talking about penises? (my god.)


Quin: I...


Quin: old on.


Quin: Im tryi gn to prete d wat you just sent me isnt real


The Ronas: So are the other four people I sent it to.
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Also, for those of you who don't know, the last guest entry was done by a good friend of mine named Galen. Who swears he's not gay and tends to be totally hilarious. He's also picked on me for days about giving Quin's post an introduction but not saying anything about gay porn. What was there to say?

I mean, I'm down with gays just as much as the next person. Really. I swear. I just don't watch them... You know. Do it. No hate.

Either way. There. I did the introduction. A few weeks late. Stop picking on me about it. (Galen's kind of emo, but I bet he won't mess with the woman who has the blog NOW. I feel empowered.)

I'll post something real later. I swear.

As soon as I get over the Chinese.

Ronas Out

Sigh...



I didn't make this, but it explains so much of everything right now.

Five Guys Beat Me Up

Well, not five guys, per say. More, that’s the location. It seems that I can’t even get a burger without having a crisis. Or, maybe the customer base is just insane. Whichever, really. The point is I have no idea how trying to get a hamburger turned into a fight.  Well, I lied. I know how it turned into  a fight and it deals with the three most evil words any woman can hear.

Low carb diet.

Now, for those of you who assume I’m just being dramatic you’ve probably never been through the horror that comes with Atkins. It’s a Hell. It’s unfair, and I’ve seen women threaten to hold up Frito’s trucks if they’re not able to get that almighty fix.  The turn into horrible creatures that look like this:

This woman is obviously crazy.

Which is why the attack should have come as any surprise. I mean, look at that thing. It’s obviously on edge.

Really, my assault was undeserved. Or I’d like to think so. I was innocent, standing there content to wait in line for my wonderful burger.

And then through the doors came a female of very large waist. Perhaps she’d been a stripper in another life. All I know is she was a plus sized woman crammed into spandex that was at least three sizes too small. And she was hungry.

She took place in line behind me, puffing and sighing, and that was that until her friend burst through the doors. Now, I didn’t know it was her friend at the time, but it became rapidly clear when she stood in the door way and screamed for her friend not to get the burger, that they were doing Atkins together.

Once her warning had been trumpeted, the second female-- who looked surprisingly normal for her company—charged toward her friend where they began to bicker. And I mean, yell loud enough that even the slightly Asian people were beginning to go round eyed (Was that racist?). The stripper shoved her friend, her friend shoved back, and then, horror of all horrors... The stripper slammed into me. 

So I did what any logical woman would do. I asked them nicely to stop. They didn't seem to like that much.

Guess who the stripper is.

Then, I was pulled into the yelling and screaming. Suddenly arms were waving and we were all locked in low carb madness.  It was horrible. It was frightening. It was the byproduct of women handing by the end of their rope. And eventually, I ended up punched in the face.

Of course, the squabble ended with all of us being ushered out of the restaurant with some very angry burger worker faces. And other than my black eye I was pretty much okay.

See? Fine. That's a blackeye, by the way. Yes. I got one.

But the point of this story remains the same. Diets are bullshit.

Ronas out.

Ps. I’m not a zombie.

I'm becoming a Zombie

I spent several hours trapped in an open grave on Monday.

Well, in the rain and in a grave. Really, it was the keeper’s fault, I’m sure. There should be some kind of warning on these things. Rails. A polite sign maybe.

Anything but leaving a grave open for people to stumble in to while trying to figure out why they have a craving for funnel cake. It’s not even June yet. Funnel cake is a long ways off if you’re going to be getting it from the common State Fair supplier. This is a serious craving that might have ended in batter mixing, funnel creation (As I don’t own one. Who owns a funnel besides your grandma?), and deep frying in my own kitchen and that tends to cause house fires.

So you can see why I was distracted.

I ended up in a grave for three hours waiting for a caretaker to discover me, apologize and save me. When that didn’t happen, I had to call people. I actually worked my way through most of my phone list and got a steady stream of no answers thanks to the fact it was three in the afternoon on a workday before I resorted to the dreaded exboyfriend.

He saved me by driving down and reaching into the hole to drag me out while laughing and I hated him for being sexy. It’s a complicated relationship.

Now, I’m sick. Pretty sure I caught some grave virus and am turning slowly into a zombie, thusly the name of this entry. I’ll let the world know how that goes.

Ronas out.