A beaver attacked my car while I was driving it. And no, that's not a euphemism for anything. *insert exasperation here* 🤨

This past week has been full of buillshit and "what the f*ck" moments, so I thought I would share a story that's even more bizarre than that for "Throwback Thursday." Except it's really not, because who in the hell gets attacked by a beaver while driving to the grocery store other than me?!

You know what, don't answer that. Moving on.

When I was about seventeen years old, a friend of ours (and I use the term "friend" lightly, because it's easier to say than "dude I couldn't hardly stand as we got older, because he became a real bag of d*cks" but whatever), wrecked his truck and tried to get away with the ultimate.

And it wasn't a bad wreck or anything like that, he basically just drove his big ass jacked-up diesel off a back road and hit a fence post. I don't think it even really did much past the point of scratching his bumper and barely denting his grill. The point is, he didn't get hurt and his truck was fine.

BUT he took this opportunity to do the ultimate.... he used it to call off his engagement (with his wedding weeks away).

BY FAKING AMNESIA. Apparently, his girlfriend had taken it upon herself to not only propose to herself for him, buy her own engagement ring (using his debit card that she swiped from his wallet), and plan the entire wedding and he literally just didn't even know how to get out of it. We all kind of wondered why he didn't just say something like, "look sweetie.... YOU'RE A F*CKING PSYCHO AND I'M NOT MARRYING YOU" but honestly, we all wanted to see the shit show play out.

Oh, and did it ever play out. It "played out" in the form of, he pretended to have amnesia.... but only when it came to her. So basically, he was fine and normal except he couldn't remember "her", the fact that he "loved her" or anything about their entire relationship. And we all sat there in disbelief waiting for her to call his punkass out for his bullshit and SHE NEVER DID.

She not only believed him and the entire story that he was spinning (with all of us rolling our eyes and being like "oh sweetie.... bless your heart"), BUT his plan hilariously backfired when she didn't let the fact that he forgot her and their "life" together drive her away, but instead decided to make him "fall in love with her all over again" and make sure it was "better and stronger than before." For weeks she reminded him with pictures and songs and by the time the wedding rolled around, she knew it was meant to be again.

Oh shit, did I forget to mention that part? My bad.... yeah, she totally never even called the wedding off. She did however change everything that he had originally said he wanted and told him it was because "he didn't really want it that way before his accident." And he couldn't dispute it, because then he would've had to come clean about the whole "amnesia" thing. (Which he did come clean to everybody else about seeking advice on how to get out, but once again, we had nothing useful to offer him).

You'll be happy to know that they just celebrated their ten year anniversary a couple of weeks ago and have two kids.... and she still tells the story about how they "almost lost each other" but through perseverance and love they "found each other and fell in love all over again."

And no, I didn't make this shit up. But, we all love to tell this ridiculous (and sadly, true) story.... he doesn't think it's funny.

In the words of Michael Kelso: *BURN* And also, *BUUURRRNNN* 🔥

Dude, I know that I should be one of those people that thinks you should let bygones be bygones and such.... but I'm not.

Look, I know that people make mistakes. And I truly understand that, we've all been there. Lord knows I'm not perfect and have never claimed to be, because it would be lying. I've made mistakes and I've done things I'm not proud of in my life (hopefully I'm not a horrible person, because I'm alone in this).

I think we've all been there at some point.

BUT, I have never set out to intentionally hurt someone- physically or mentally.

Except my brother, and that was self defense, because growing up with him was like being raised somewhere between backyard wrestling, boot camp, the middle part of Bravehart, and the battle of Helm's Deep.

With that being said, I can also completely understand the need for "revenge" of sorts. Especially when that "revenge" doesn't necessarily hurt someone, but helps you recover something in your own way.

A man in Minnesota, who was raised alongside of his sister by their grandmother, wrote an obituary for his biological mother. And he used that moment to get out some of the things that he had apparently been holding in for many years.

Now, I understand that ole saying, "you shouldn't speak ill of the dead" and my Grammy was a stickler for that one.... however, she also used to say that when someone treats you poorly, it's in your right to let someone know that. As someone who has been in the position of the one being hurt, I can sympathize with it. Did this obituary hurt someone who read it? Possibly. But isn't it perfectly reasonable that he has the right to say how he and his sister feel?

Maybe I'm wrong, but I think he does. And maybe the way he did it was tacky (I don't necessarily think so, but I know many people do), but then again, maybe that's exactly what he needed to do for he and his sister. We all get closure in different ways and maybe this was his. Personally, I don't think we all need "closure" I think we can come to it ourselves, and sometimes we don't even feel the need for it in the first place, because we literally don't even give two shits, but some people need a little help.

And I'm glad this dude got it.

I've just accepted my "chubbiness" at this point in my life. *all the tacos*

Until the age of about twenty-two I was damn skinny (and flat chested). And when I say "damn skinny" I mean it.... my pants were a size 00. and small shirts were way big on me. (I never got over 102 pounds).

And then, when I was twenty-three, some things happened with my health (ie: hormones and "lady bits") and it caused a variety of fun things like adult acne, early onset hot flashes, nausea.... and rapid weight gain. Like, we're talking sixty pounds in about three-four months. It was insane and I had no clue what was happening with my mind or body.

I just couldn't seem to get it under control. Any of it. I tried every acne product that was offered.... nothing. I tried wearing tanks and shorts even when it was cold.... nothing. I wasn't eating hardly anything and yet.... nothing. See a pattern here?! NOTHING.

Hilaria Baldwin was (and is) literally smaller than me when she was eight months pregnant.

Then I found a wonderful doctor that actually listened to me. She ran some tests and figured out what was happening. And over the last five years, she's helped me so damn much. Sure, I have scars from where my acne got so bad and even still get it on occasion, but it's much more controlled now. My hot flashes while inconvenient are easier to handle.

And my weight? Well, we have a love/hate relationship. I've lost quite a bit of it (around thirty pounds), but there's just some of it that doesn't want to come off for love nor money. And you know what? I'm ok with that. I'm good with the fact that I'm not the same weight/built like I was when I was eighteen years old. I'm a full grown ass woman pushing thirty (but seriously, don't bring up that whole "thirty" thing too much) and the fact that I'm considered "chubby" doesn't bother me anymore.

Sure, it did to begin with. I felt embarrassed and missed the fact that I used to be so tiny.... and then I got the hell over it and realized that if I let myself, I'm just as happy now as I was then. No.... I'm actually happier.

If you're struggling with something like this, I say just embrace it. Because once you do, you will be amazed at how much better you feel, how much happier you are, and how awesome it is to never say no to tacos and feel good about it.

Also, flowy "hippie" shirts and baggy pants are back in style and I AM HERE FOR IT. Embrace that shit.

I might actually be getting my face back.... that sounded creepy. 🤓🤓🤓

The day after tomorrow I have an eye appointment and I'm looking into.... contacts. Maybe... jury's still deliberating and such.

You see, I don't have good eyesight. In fact, calling it "poor eyesight" as my doctor says is "putting it easy." Essentially, my eyeballs suck and don't want to do their f*cking job. Apparently they're so "blue" that they're almost "translucent" and that's why I can't stand bright lights. I repeat, my eyeballs can't stand bright light, because they're "defective."

What. the. f*ck.... why won't you eyeball, eyeballs?!!?!

Moving on.... back in February 2017 I finally sucked it up and went to get glasses, because I was driving regularly, and lord knows I watch too much tv (#noregrets), and basically it got to where I couldn't even do my work right, because I couldn't see it and ugh being an adult is hard.

I had to get giant framed glasses, because I've tried to get used to wearing small frames before and it never works out for me. That's why I've never stuck with my glasses (that I've needed since I was probably around fifteen?), because I just kept staring at the frames and couldn't break the habit and get used to them. And of course, I would rather see than look decent, so I was all #1: I'm getting these big f*cking glasses so I can function and #2: I don't need contacts, I'll just wear glasses all the time, it makes more sense.

Apparently I didn't think that through all the way. It's not so much about the way they look (we've even had our good days in the look department together), but sometimes they're just terribly inconvenient. And I feel like contacts would be a nice thing to have around. And I could even maybe wear my eye makeup again (but I wouldn't count on it, because lazy).

Don't get me wrong, I'll still have my glasses to fall back on (with my allergies it would be dumb not to make sure I had another option in case my eyes are screwy from pollen and such), but for the most part I would like to see my face again. Although, it will be weird to get used to, because I've literally had it partially covered for over a year (a year and four months?) now.

Wish me luck. Not for the touching my eyeball part, because that doesn't bother me AT ALL, but for the price part. Because trying to see, because your eyeballs won't work right is frustrating.... and expensive.

🐶 Tayder has a new brother.... and I don't know how we feel about it?! 🐶

Yesterday (6/3), Tayder got a new little brother.... that's already taller than him. And it's a working progress.

Momma has been saying for a while that she wanted to get another dog. She wanted a puppy that we could raise up and train and she wanted to make sure that he was a bigger breed of dog.

Personally, I didn't want another dog, as I'm perfectly good with just having my Tayderbug. But, she wanted one that will get bigger and she'll feel more secure with a larger dog.

And naturally, I can't tell her no for shit. I swear, that lady can literally talk me into just about any damn thing. Her: "Katie, you wanna move to Antarctica and live off off whale blubber for the rest of our lives? I really want to." Me: "Sure, Momma." And then next thing you know, my bitch ass is moving to Antarctica.

Ever since Momma's emergency surgery last July, every time we have to leave the house, Tayder freaked the hell out. Like, he's got anxiety worse than any person that I've ever seen. And I get it, how could he not have anxiety after an ordeal like that (I know I do), so she also thought that having a "companion" for him would make him feel more at ease when we have to leave.

Since we both left at 6:00 this morning, I guess we're about to find out.

We rescued (I hate saying "rescue" because it's like I should be Batman or something) a pit mix from the Humane Society yesterday and he's not quite five months old yet. The choice was between him and one other little guy (named Pete), but I was pretty nervous about Pete, because of Tayder. I don't mind adopting an older dog (Tayder was older when I got him), but I said we had to make sure that it could be a good match for him.

His name is Sparty (technically Spartacus) and the poor little guy was covered in poo and urine (he wasn't allowed to be out on their grounds, because he's under six months and they've had an issue with parvo in the past) and malnourished. I gave him two baths when we got him home (his tail and paws are still dyed yellow, but they're improving!), gave him a flea treatment and rubbed him down in baby powder (for the smell). Now, we just have to get some weight on him.

He's pretty timid and playful, and as I said, as long as Tayder is ok with it, then there's no problem whatsoever. Also, I had to get him a crate (I've NEVER crated a dog before in my entire life), because the place that had him suggested that it would be a good idea until he's "adapted" more for when we have to leave the house. He actually slept in it last night (he walked into the crate without me even saying anything.... maybe it's a security thing for him right now?) and we let him and Tayder run the yard a bit this morning before I had to leave for work and drop Momma off at Aunt Poot's and then he went back in since we had to leave.

We're not going to be crating him often, but it probably is a good idea for now, at least until we can get his belly under control (poor little guy has diarrhea and I think it's a combination of anxiety and not getting proper "care" before).

You know what I've learned in the last like eighteen hours? I've learned that I had completely forgotten what it was like to have a puppy in the house. It's an entirely different ballgame and I am striking out big time. But, I'm trying, Momma is trying.... and Tayder is helping me out (he shows his support for me with kisses and love).

So, wish us luck on this next adventure of ours. I think we're gonna need it. #AdoptDontShop