Pete and Pete... A Fallen Tale

Guess who is at home AND on the internet!??!!?


MEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!


Just kidding. I really do not know why I said that because it's more of a cruel joke on me and not you guys. Everyone who is reading this is probably at home, on the internet, in bed, having grapes fed to them.

What a perfect reminder. -buy grapes at store-

Any fucking way--- Let's talk about Danny Tamberelli and Mike Maronna. Two of the biggest Nickelodeon stars in the 90's. I'm not sure if you have ever heard of a little fucking show called, "Pete and Pete", but it was a pretty big deal. Steve Buscemi played the neighbor for Petes sake. Haha, see what I did there? Petes sake. Anyway, last night before I went to bed I started getting all of the "retard thoughts" that I usually get before I drift off and one of them was more so a question.. "What the fuck are Danny Tamberelli and Mike Maronna doing with their lives these days?" I often wonder the same question about all the fallen 90's sitcom TV brothers.. Like, those two adorable twins from 'Full House'. And, I'm not talking about Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, we all know that they're paaaaaaaiiiiid. I am talking about Nicky and Alex... Remember them? Or what about those two kids from the show, 'My Brother and Me'.. Remember them? So, last night while in fake retard land I decided that I would do all of this research to find out where these poor sapps are now, what they're doing with their life and write about it. But, now that I am in real life all of that seems like way too much work, I'm not employed by VH1 or E and I really need to start working on my Christmas list because someone asked me a few days ago what I wanted for Christmas and I told them Coffee Filters. What the fuck?

I am sorry if this post doesn't make much sense and is poorly written but I don't actually know when my posts do make much sense and are well written.. So, I take that sorry back and will now put it in my back pocket for when I accidentally run over a child on my bike.

40 things I would do if I had the Internet

40 things that I would do if I had the Motha Fuckin' Internet

1. Post my blogs more regularly
2. Check my emails more often because unlike everyone else who has a fancy phone, I do not
3. Update and manage the social networking I do for work and my own personal life
4. Check out Craigslist for free/cheap things
5. Wiki different instruments people are selling on Craigslist
4. Buy used instruments off Craigslist
5. Use YouTube to learn how to play my new instruments
6. Start a band
7. Buy a webcam
8. Just kidding, buy a new computer with a camera in it
9. Just kidding again, buy a webcam because I am poor
10.Start a Skype account
11.Start using Chat Roulette
12.Make sweet videos and put them on YouTube
13.Work out more because I will be a YouTube star
14.Join a yoga class
15.Quit smoking cigarettes
16.Not go into work as often as I do to use free wi-fi
17.Paint my nails
18.Remove my nail polish because I don't have a Gypsy Prince with the body of a Greek God to do my dishes
19.Talk to my family more
20.Set up an Etsy account
21.Buy a sewing machine off Craigslist
22.YouTube how to sew
23.Make things and sell them on Etsy and at work
24.Start making all of my own outfits just like Romy and Michelle
25.Call my grandma more often
26.Make a sweet web page for the band
25.Set up an EBay account
26.Buy old shit that looks like it could be worth a lot of money
25.Go on the Antique Roadshow
26.Ramble to the auctioneer about my bands struggle to make it big, my YouTube stardom, our bands web page address

and my email
27.Find out that what I was selling was worth a lot of money and that my tape will be played on air
28.Get discovered by a head boss that runs some big Media Company in New York City who likes to get wasted and watch the Antique Roadshow
29.Move to New York City
30.Become a huge success by starting THE BEST SOCIAL NETWORKING SITE IN THE WORLD
31.Tour with my band world wide
32.Open my own Coffee Shop/Boutique
33.Start my own clothing line
34.Go clubbin' with Beyonce
35.Pay my rent at my sweet loft twelve months in advance
36.Marry a hot professor that teaches at Columbia
37.Have lots of babies
38.Adopt a few babies
39.Buy a basketball team
40.MOVE TO SINGAPORE

Do you see?!? I neeeeeeeeed the Motha Fuckin' Internet!

"The Plan" -- Also- I had a really good picture for this but Blogger wouldn't let me update it and that is stupid.

Let's take a second to talk about, "The Plan". You know the plan. Even the fatty that looks like John Goodman in the back with the plaid shirt on knows what the plan is. (side note, I don't know why but I always want to spell 'knows' like 'noes'.. probably because it rhymes with 'toes') ANYWAY, back to the motha fuckin' plan. Until just recently, between my sub conscious and my evil twin sister, Nelsea, I had thought my plan had completely derailed. That was until I realized that I am going to be different. I am starting, The Motha Fuckin' Awesome Chelsea Plan.
No worries, this is not an attempt to take over the world Pinky and The Brain style, this is just an easy way to say that you don't have to get your college degree at the age of twenty-two and you can still be the fucking bomb.

College is all fine and well and I will eventualllllllyyyyyy get a degree someday in something that will probably have nothing to do with the killer coffee shop I am going to open. But, college isn't everything. Sure, it is a great way to meet super hot professors, drink free beer, and learn about chlorophyll. But, does college teach you to remember to feed your cat? Will it teach you to protect yourself if you're getting mugged on the street? ALSO- I have yet to see a college diploma take the trash out. I live in a college town. Every thug and betty has their degree. A degree + no experience = a Sad Betty.

There are no Sad Betty's on The Motha Fuckin' Awesome Chelsea Plan. I actually did it right, bitches. When I am twenty-eight, have my degree, have experience, and still have killer legs I will be a Happy Betty and I will make it rain in the club every day.

So I guess what I am trying to say is make up your own mind, be your own person and always use protection.

Wow, that was somewhat inspiring. Fucking go me!

Disclaimer: The Arcade Fire is hands down one of the best bands, you must like this band to be on The Motha Fuckin' Awesome Chelsea Plan.

All My Single Ladies?

Is it sad that the longest relationship I've had is with the Norton Security software on my computer? We're in the middle of a break-up right now though. It has been going on for about three years now and the first year was great! He served his purpose of fulfilling what I needed from him and still gave me my space.. It was really nice. The second year wasn't as great, he started to question my commitment to him by asking me if this was legit like three times a week. But now, he has really fucking derailed. He is popping up all over the place, needy as hell,  whenever I am in the middle of something important.. "Renew?!?! Are you going to Renew me? Don't you love me anymore? Renew, Renew, Renew!" No, Fuck off. This relationship has expired just like the orange juice in my refrigerator. So, if anyone knows any other software that will protect me, I am on the market! -Insert single ladies chorus here-

Let's talk about that. My dating life. I average about three dates every two weeks and it seems like I keep going out with these pompous Betties. You know, the real pretty ones that almost look gay and claim they aren't because they play the guitar and have a beard and listen to underground hip-hop music, but only because of political reasons. Which makes no sense to me. At all. I would never think it would be that hard to find a straight man, that is a vegetarian who dresses like Mr. Rogers, who has a good job as a social worker or kindergarten teacher, that will do my dishes and not judge me for eating four buckets of popcorn at the movies. Something you must know about me.. we may have discussed this, but, I fucking love a good deal. If there are free refills on something I am so getting down with it. And, popcorn in my favorite food so suck it, really. ALSO- This perfect male must be smart enough to tell me not to give our children lighters and wine corks to play with like I do my cat.

Double also-- Remind me to please never be one of those people who say, "I don't need a boyfriend, I have my cat."

Triple also--tonight is my last night with Bernie Mac. I know you're probably thinking.. "Umm, Chelsea.. your last night with Bernie Mac was like three years ago." And, I meant the dog, dummies.

I met somebody once that actually would go home to watch Bernie Mac reruns on channel 5 at 7:00 and 7:30. This person never became my friend.

Notorious BIG and Moldy Bread

     Would you like to know what is even worse than when you go to make a sandwich and you realize that there is mold on the bread? Let me tell you.. Not having the motha fucking internet. I seriously open my lap top, (which is missing keys because Borris is trying to improve his typing skills using his razor claws.. Good for him though, forty-seven w.p.m is impressive for a cat) Turn on my ITunes, put on some motha fuckin' Missy Elliot and I click on the two double computers with a bold red X going through them that indicate that I do not have access to the best thing in the universe, in hopes that someone has moved in near by with an unsecured internet connection. Preferably an extreme hot gypsy king with the body of a Greek God. But guess what..?? That never fucking happens. So then I pick up my lap top, move to every location in my apartment, including closets, continue to click the double computers that are now laughing at me, and no fucking dice. So then I play solitaire.. for probably way longer than anyone should. I'm on the expert level now, sort of a big deal. Those dancing cards that appear when you defeat the game is a sweet reminder of success.

   Speaking of success, I have managed to keep more than four beverage choices in my fridge at any given time since I have moved into my apartment. Kool-aid? I got it. Coke Zero? Yeah, I got that too. And I ALWAYS have soy milk. Fucking crucial. Except when you come home from seriously gettin' yo drink on and wake up in the middle of the night, thirsty as shit, go to the fridge with retard crusty eyes, reach for whatever you grab first, chug it and then say, "fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuccccccckkkkkk... soy miiiilllllllkkkkkkkkkkk... Why couldn't I have grabbed the peach infused pomegranate juice!?!?!?" -insert sad face here-

Oh yeah, and by the way.. this picture that I drew has nothing to do with anything, really.. Except for the fact that I would buy a gold grill before I would buy braces.

PS. Will somebody please buy me one of those electric coffee mug thingies to keep my coffee warm so that when I walk away to make a moldy sandwich I don't come back and say, "fuuuuuuuuuuuuccccccccccck... cold cooooofffffffeeeeeeeeeeeeee." -one more sad face-

PPS. Please remind me to never again answer my phone at 4:00 in the morning when I see that it is Joe Joe, LaToya and Lazor calling from Vegas because more than likely it is just going to be them screaming things in  a different language. And that language is drunk retard screaming language.

You should ALWAYS tip your barista

So.. listen to this, bitches. The owner at the coffee shop I currently spend way too much of my life at just told me a day ago that he will now be getting halfsies on the tip share that comes in while he is there. Back in the good ol' days.. (yesterday) whomever worked with the owner, or from now on as we will call him, indian giving slut, wouldn't except tips and the baristas working would split them upon themselves. This was a huge boner for me

because the majority of my shifts consist of just him and myself. So, with that said, on a normal Wednesday morning I would work ten hours and walk with at least fifteen dollars.. but now, it will be 7.50. I am not sure if Indian Giving Slut is aware that I use that money for VERY important things... such as, feeding Satan, beer, cigarettes, envelopes, water bottles I use to squirt Satan, condoms, and most importantly... Beer.

So, when I am slaving away making the perfect latte, providing the MOST prestine customer service and attempting to be "nice" to bloodfart, Indian Giving slut will be in the back office on his computer googling different ways to improve his triatholon times and still collect my hard earned cash to buy new spandex and bibles. Does anyone else know how fucking hard it is to be nice to people? Is it just me? Does the cheese stand alone on this one? Ew, I can't believe I just compared myself to cheese. Memo to self, never do that again.. unless it's Munster.. that shit is actually pretty good. And, it makes me think of Eddie Munster. I wonder what he is up to these days and if he still has that wicked white stripe in his hair.

On another note, will someone please start paying me to make them speghetti or something? I really need to get the internet at my apartment. Bars that offer free wi-fi fucking rule but, this is probably why I can't afford internet in the first place.

I wish you could live in bars. Minus the whole not smoking thing. Oh yeah, and those "E-Cigarettes" are fucking bullshit.

It's Saturday, so peace out bitches.

Why Bernie Mac is staying at my house

Satan cat is going to eat my sisters dog. I know what you're thinking about this photo. But, fuck off. This is the best I can do being slightly hung over and still heavily sedated on pain killers. And, no. I am not a chronic pill head I actually have a legit prescription for them. I blew out my shoulder/neck on Sunday and had to go to the hospital and everything. Though the pain went away on Tuesday and it is now Saturday, I never feel the need to be wasteful.

Anyway, back to this piece of shit picture. I am dog sitting for the week for LaToya and Lazor when they waste their life savings in Vegas. They have a pug and it looks remarkably like Bernie Mac. He is actually pretty cute though, I only say that because I have a thing for big black men. Satan kitty wants to fuck his shit up though. I feel like I should be hosting some sort of dog/cat fight but last time I checked that is illegal and as a vegetarian I don't see how that would favor my whole love for animals thing.

Let's talk about something a little more important, my last twenty-four hours. If you judge me I will fucking derail on you. Just kidding. Sort of. I was quite productive and went to the laundromat which we discussed in my last post. I then rode my bike to Old Town Lansing in attempts to go to Bluesfest and then turned right back around because I realized I was way to drunk to be seen in public by people who probably weren't as shit wrecked as I was. So I went home and spent about fifty-seven minutes attempting to make a grilled cheese sandwich. I know, how hard is it to fry some fucking bread? The worst part is that I have a do it yourself grilled cheese maker. Which by the way, everyone should own. The only reason it took my this long was because I was also in the middle of a Gossip Girl marathon and I kept burning the shit.

I think I am the only one who spends a Friday night wasted watching Gossip Girl and burning grilled cheese. In my defense I was going to stumble to the bar but nobody would have talked to me even though I was looking quite fierce in my black sweatpants and Mickey Mouse sweatshirt that I cut the neck off of to make it look super cool and hipster. If I were to have a conversation with someone it would have probably ended up with me lieing about everything because that is what I do when I drink too much. I once told someone that I was tambourine player in an amazing folk band and we were about to tour the world with Mates of State.

Hands down, I am the BEST person to party with.

That is all, peace out bitches.

My love hate relationship with the laundromat

I usually spend my Fridays like anyone else would, doing laundry, going to the strip club, drinking coffee, taking shots of tequila, grocery shopping, going to the bank, having sex with black men, mowing my neighbors yard, playing Pictonary with my cat, doing crosswords at a burrito bar, pointing at the white trash people that live down the road and cleaning Satan's litter box.

But, I fucking hate the laundromat. If I made two hundred extra dollars a month I would pay someone to do my laundry for me. I would say fifty dollars but my shit stiiiiiinnnnnnnkkkkkkkks.

By the way, doesn't the sink I drew in this "cartoon" look like a face? I thought so too.

peace out bitches.

How to lose track of a decade

Listen bitches... I know you are all probably extremely upset for my lack of blogging lately, but seriously, I am fucking important. So we should start Here.

Okay, so, in the last three months this is what my life has entailed.. I got my own place, fucking score. I live there with my cat, Borris, who I am certain attempts to kill my while I sleep. He has a little bit of Satan in him and though I pretend it doesn't bother me because I am a big fan of Satan and all of his work, it sort of does.

Tito and Victor can both burn in hell. Actually, they can burn in heaven. I wouldn't want them anywhere near the master himself, Satan. I know what you're thinking.. "Chelsea, when did you get to be so into Satan?" And well, the truth is I have no fucking clue. Probably as of this morning when I woke up and Borris was laying on top of me with red devil eyes planning his attack. Anyway, back to Tito and Victor.. They live upstairs from me and refuse to reason with me on a simple bill that we share.. All of that shit is super boring to you. My revenge to them is that I put porn on 24/7 as loud as it goes on my tv. And, when I have sex in my house I am as loud as humanly possible even if the sex sucks. Sorry to the boys I have slept with in the past couple months but, it probably wasn't that great.

ALSO- I got promoted at my job at the coffee shop which is still a huge surprise to me because I come in slightly hung over every day and write my phone number on the cups to every man I find slightly attractive or at least the men I think would be good to bring home and sleep with. I have recently only started dating older men. I like this. If I had a therapist they would probably tell me it is because I have "Daddy Issues" but what the fuck does that mean really. I just want someone to take me to PF Changs. Shit.

I interviewed Adam Lambert and we talked for twenty minutes about the spot in his head that his stylist shaved off for him which really doesn't matter anymore because that was back in June and I am sure it has grown back now. Nobody will even know who Adam Lambert is in a few months from now.

My friend Gigi gave me this sweet vintage jacket that I was skeptical about at first but she was all, "Chels it looks fucking great on you." and I was all, "I don't know it has really big sleeves" and she was all "Whatever sleeves are in this year" So with that said, I guess sleeves are big this year. Literally.

 So Anyway,  I am still fucking fabulous and that is the most important thing, right?