Thursday, March 29

Today totally felt like Friday. Damn.

I'm here. With a small plate of stuffed mushrooms. There wasn't enough cheese on them, so like a failed vegan...:.I added more. Not that I'm dabbling in the veganism at the moment. You know Honey Nut Cheerios aren't vegan, so I fail by 6:30am. Whatevs.

Tonight was glorious at that. I've. had. wine.

And not just any wine. I had wine while Mr. Wookie Praise the Lawd.

He's done with his courses. One Master's semester bottled into 2 weeks of procrastinative pain as he wrote a collective 92 pages of bullshit and assignments that will earn him more credits towards that Hood of Masterdom. But that gets me thinking. I want a Master's. I can't be the shlump without one in the house. Not when he wants a second one. Douche. So yes...I want more. But the question lies in, "In what?" I don't know, my friend. I don't know. It has to be useful, applicable to moving around with the Navy (and naturally I hate needles so nursing is out, I hate kids so teaching is out, I don't like non-drinkers, so therapy is out), and not in an overly saturated field. So yeah....

And to correct if I sound like an asspain. I did put effort into the kitchen this week. Each night I chipped away at the lime and rust that encrusted the kitchen in excessive pot and pan dirtiness. But sometimes you need a Mr. Wookie's touch. And sometimes the female of the house just needs to "corrupt" Mr. Wookie's computer speakers with Rihanna, Beyonce, and Nicki Minaj (because you may not know, I'm actually black).

But let's talk about the challenge on our horizon. No, not the one that's involving months at sea, or the new one that's also months at sea (oh yea, lucky us!). It's about Mr. Wookie and his Squadron. There's....a.....challenge that's begun. And it makes me nervous. 6 weeks. of. a weight loss challenge. *gasp* I know, I know - you're thinking 'big deal.' I agree. Although once you learn the terms of the challenge, that's where my protective butthole starts to pucker.

Are you ready for this?

Are you...............?

Losers have to....

Monday, March 26

What do you say when...

...when someone mentions they're not on birth control? And married...

"You know you can get pregna".......Oh, you probably want that. you know you won't be able to imbibe? It's practically detox.

Obviously babies are far from my mind. I don't see 4:30am unless I'm at a late night wake remembering our friend who passed in January, telling stories in his honor, eating smores, partaking in a few social cigarettes (yup, I had 2...because it's only fitting for one hand to have a clear Solo cup of sangria and the other a fag).

Sunday, March 25

Maybe I should be on Hoarders.

There once a weekend spent cleaning out the cobwebs of the closet. It was spring cleaning time and after tackling the filing cabinet (purge, purge, purge!), I got to my momentos (those collectables from various trips and accomplishments). Sometimes it's nice to see where you've come from and how you're making life happen. I love seeing old pictures of Mr. Wookie and I in the throes of long distance. While it did wonders for our sanity and all the detachments we're currently in and the deployment that's later this year, I still can't believe we thought it a good idea.

Either way, that's not the story of this post as I can ramble a million words about how I couldn't have lost my job at a better time.

There's an internal battle that brews in my siblings and I's heart - a battle that's not a pretty one. We're born with....wait for it...a slight hoarding gene. Not bad enough for my mom to actually appear on Hoarders (yet), but she's definitely kept her fair share of items that should have been pitched long before. I can already here my siblings now commenting... I classify my mom as a "sentimentalist."

While hoarders will have barns full of ammunition, tractor parts, and just weird stuff, my mom keeps other things. Like the pregnancy tests from both my sisters. Mom, let those go. That's just gross. You peed on those things. You already have the mental scars of a whiny baby (Middle Sister) and an always-hungry baby (Baby Sister). That's enough proof. Toss the stick.

My mom also has this salmon-colored, cowl neck sweater from the 80's one of my uncles gave to her. It's a semi-crop waist'd number that's near and dear to her heart because one of her brother's actually bought her an awesome gift (which I can totally relate to - Brother bought me yoga pants from Target like 5 years ago for Christmas and they're still my favorist lounge wear still [good job Bro!].

And so...the gene....rears it's ugly head in this particular blogging offspring. There are times where I do the same. Oh, I totally need to keep this article of clothing because I once wore it to something important. Or Oh, I totally need to keep this book because I read it once for a college course and it totally makes me look smart while on my bookshelf. Or Oh, I totally need to keep all the Congrulations! cards from my college graduation because....IS THIS A FUCKING GIFT CARD I NEVER USED???!?!?!!?

Right there. In front of me. Staring back with "are you an idiot?" plastered all over it was a shiny, white,...Crate & Barrel gift card. "Congratulations Ashley!!! Best- Laura" How in the world did I miss this? How did I not use this up IMMEDIATELY. It's C&B. It's divinity. It's...still loaded?!?!?!?! So I call the number on the back of the Crate & Barrel gift card (I awesome could this be!)....


Dude....I'm $20 richer. Rollin' in those Benjamins. Or Lincolns...whatever. But damn, I came running outta my office faster than a bootlegger during Prohibition. "Babe! Guess what!??! I just found a gift card from 5 years ago. AND IT STILL HAS MONEY ON IT!!!"

Winner, winner, chicken dinner.

Yes, I know the dollar isn't as strong as it once was, but HEY! I just found $20 in a fucking card. Gimme a little bit of hoarding credit. I do have gems in my shit. $20 gift card gems.

I knew what I was going to get...I've been needing more single serving glass storage devices for leftovers, cooking for one, lunches, and the like. While Mr. Wookie rolls his eyes at me because he deems them all frivolous (umm....'squeeze me...I pay for things myself AND I FOUND A GIFT CARD - shut up!), I knew exactly what I was getting. It was on the back of C&B catalog that came the week before. AND there was a 10% coupon code to use. So you can guess how fast it took me to whip out my wallet to finalize the "big" transaction.

Alright, so here are the goods. With the steep price tag of $19.95. Throw in 10% off thanks to a coupon code, add that pesky Californiasucksabigtoe sales tax, and the high-priced shipping charges - you've got a GIMME GIMME GIMME transaction of $6.somechange. Heck to the yeah.

So somewhere between 3-5 business days later, I had a jolly ol' package on the porch. While Mr. Wookie's been busy buying outdooring equipment, I was jazzed to finally have something arrive attention to MRS. WOOKIE!! I couldn't wait to open 'er up. And have a look.

Hello gorgeous. "Mr. Wookie, take a look!" ::shoulder shrug:: He twasn't entertained. I was DELIGHTED!! There they were in the glass bottom storage glory. Ready for everything from green beans, to soup, to single servings of pre-washed grapes to go in my lunch, to looking beautiful in my cupboard.

Now if you won't excuse me - I have things to cook and then put away leftovers. :)

Saturday, March 24

The Jonestown Hammock Massacre

Yup, I've done it again. I've lost ya. I've gone mornings, lunch breaks, evenings, walks with Pooch, welcome-home-from-late-night-flight kisses, dinner, dishes, laundry without even thinking of this here blog. And it's not that I mean to - thanks to Uncle Sam and Mr. Wookie, I've been busier than ever.

Mr. Wookie is here. Although technically speaking, he's physically here. No, he's not in a coma. No, he's not forced to sleep in the BOQ on base (although that may be nice). No, instead he's been working his tail off with 12+ hour days, then he comes home where's been a zombie student (or student zombie) finishing up coursework for his Master's classes this term. So essentially, he's been here but not. And I'm kinda wishing he just wasn't here. Because then I wouldnn't have to do the cooking for two, extra laundry, and extra cleaning that comes with him being home - because sadly, he hasn't been much of an addition to the home. Instead, he's stuck sitting at his desk bitching at his computer, zen music on repeat in the hopes that it settles him down and helps pump out that paper-age (that's plural for writing papers). And I'm forced to live in the house like a monk (get it? silent.). Wah wah.

Thank goodness for today (plus you get an assload of pictures. Just wait for it. Pun upcoming).

Enter hammock. Enter a weekend of intended showers and shitty weather (showers for you none Pacific Northwesterners isn't a deluge of water at once, it's intermittent throughout the day, varying in severity and quantity, but just overall squashing any yardwork plans you may have). Enter leaving Vons this morning after grocery shopping and sweating my butt off since I wore layers as it was cloudy and cold this morning.

Viva. Hammock love.

It's the weekend. And this is what I'm choosing to wear. Yes, I went shopping in it. Because I'm young(ish) and I don't care.'s less laundry to do. And yup, now I'm just rambling. What about that time I went 6 days in between cocktails. I know, shocking right? Sometimes all you want is a lemonade, iced tea, spot o' tea, water, Gatorade, E-mer-gen-C (when your boss is sick), or horchata instead. Weird...I know...(sorry, rambling....)

See how I don't mention the assload yet...

What is she doing? Oh, probably playing DrawSomething...or discussing this evening's plans on Facebook. Comedy show with the "Knives Group?" Don't mind if I do!

I was even mean enough to lock the dog inside the house today while I enjoyed the sun. Because nothing ruins the zen-like moment like clickclickclickclick of dog nails on the ground. I want peace and comfort time.

And then again, I succumb to the relaxation of the hammock. Face down, ass up....

Thursday, March 15

When Spousebuzz makes ya think.

I wrote this last week and now apparently have the ball to push 'publish.' Eeeek...I'm kinda nervous. Oh boy...

Do you rank judge? Point blank, do you? What if you say yes? What if you are lying to yourself and say 'no?' What if your honest - will be people subsequently judge you for judging? All these things swirl my mind with SpouseBuzz's recent article on being rankist.

I'll be honest - this article struck a cord with me.

But before I throw you under the bus, let me answer the questions myself. Do I judge rank? Well...sometimes. In the military, sometimes people get promoted when they shouldn't. You're left scratching your head about 'Umm...really?' Maybe you didn't see what the deciding factor was, but there are times where I'm not sure if they're meant for that next pay grade - so yes, I judge.

Where this article went was someplace different - it went there. The place were the demarcation between Enlisted family and Officer family should resemble the DMZ. Where "all" Enlisted wives are 20, lazy, immature, and squanderers of the paycheck and "all" Officer wives coat-tailed their way out of college in search of pedicures every Friday and the notion 'they're better than everyone else.' Because those are all true, right?

Because you'll never meet an Enlisted wife with something to say, who's chasing her own dreams of college and a career, who's husband is Sailor of the Year, and they're doing just fine. Just like you'll never meet an Officer's wife who happened to meet him before he thought of the Navy, who's willing to stay behind for her own career as her husband Geo-Bachelor's for a year some place far off, and they're doing just fine.

As someone attached to Mr. Wookie - who just happens to be an Officer - I can say that I  like to keep an open mind between the ranks. Yes, I'm happy to follow a lot of Enlisted family blogs. And yes, I read a few Officer blogs. In the realms of the Officership, there's not many of 'us.' And I mean 'us' by the fact that there really aren't a lot of awesome blogs that just happen to feature a CaveWookie in a flight suit. And when you think about the blogs that don't sign off as "Mrs. Lovin' the Meal Ticket," there are even few humble (and hilarious) blogs I'd bother read.

I'd like to think of myself as someone who breaches those lines of stigma, someone who will be kind, help out, and wish the best of luck to a fellow military-attached lady facing PCS, deployment, or home renovations. Because there's nothing saltier than a girlfriend/wife of 10+ years, more deployments than I have fingers on one hand, and the ability to pour a health serving of wine - and then recommend which teeth whitening systems will remove those wine stains after a 10-month deployment (because do share!).

I love and adore (and read) a plethora of blogs because I love the people and don't care whether their husbands are E-1, a girlfriend of an aviator (hey!!), Chiefs, striving for STA-21, the wife of a Major, Sailor of the Year, ERBing out, or content with their OCONUS station. They're human beings who deserve the same respect no matter what type of insignia is on their collar.

I'm just curious if I'm alone in this sentiment. As an Officer's long-time domestic partner, I don't know how people feel about the generic Officer's attached ladies. I don't know if we're all thought of evil snatches. I don't know if I'm thought of as an exception since we're not married so I'm not "meal ticketing" it up. I don't know if people feel awkwardness commenting on my blog because of my 'status' - or if they feel like I'm going out of my way when I comment on theirs. Truth: I comment on blogs I love to read - I've said it a million times. When you bore me, I'll stop following. If you're hilarious and awesome, you've got me. And if you rig a giveaway so I'll win, I'll probably give you a kidney. And at least a cocktail. Oh yeah, I don't know if people take my alcoholic humor to heart. No, I don't need rehab. Yes, I love a good glass of wine after a rough day at work. But my habits only involve cocktails every other night or so. There's no IV of Stoli...yet. Talk to me during deployment.

Although I will be completely honest - I used to be a massive stick-up-my-ass ROTC girlfriend. I used to think Enlisted were not worthy. I used to think even the "Officer Candidates" were chump change because they didn't do ROTC in the first place. Because apparently a ROTC girlfriend knows EVERYTHING. Oh, silly, silly me. I can't regret those thoughts enough because I know they make me look like a mega snatch. Thankfully I've found wisdom in graduating, experiencing long distance, reuniting, coming to terms with Uncle Sam, enjoying Mr. Wookie's career, and the life I thought was sooo glamorous a mere 5 years ago. Although it never helps when the public persona of a Naval Officer pumps it up to be kitten whiskers and angel farts. In reality, it's no big deal.

If I had to 'rank' myself, it would still be noob. While we've been attached for 8+ years, mildly associated with the Navy for equal time, we've yet to experience "the suck." So until I can paint a stripe on my deployment board, I've yet to earn my salt. Although it might not be a good idea to make me salty. Because I might just ask for tequila to go with it. And of course, a lime wedge.

Tuesday, March 13


Last night I gave myself a facial...because...well I felt like it and Mr. Wookie was busy "bouncing." Night flights that bore an NFO to tears as it's just practicing landing for pilots...and the NFO gets to play Words With Friends for hours. Not that he texts on the plane. No. That's not allowed.


The pipes in our house have two temperatures. Scalding your mother-effin' knuckles off. And 'meh.'

Have I mentioned how awesome this Daylight Savings is? Oh, and have I mentioned how I'm barely waking up in time for work in the morning? But gosh golly this sunlight after work makes my day. I get to have a cocktail while the sun is still up. So now drinking alone isn't so depressing.

Sunday night I had enough of it. My beautiful laptop of 3 years finally has a battery lifespan of 10 minutes. On a good day. So yes, I practically stay tethered to the wall my entire blogging career (which right now my blogging career has been about as good as Sarah Palin's ability to be Vice President). Zing. The new battery is due into my lovely hands on Thursday - and I can't wait.

I still need to blog about my brush with death.

On tonight's menu are burgers - although we killed the potato salad from Sunday night's barbeque, so I guess I need to whip up another side dish to eat. And in this house potato salad is quite bland. I don't do onion, he doesn't do hard-boiled eggs. So it's basic potatoes, little mayo, good dollop of 'stard (that's mustard for the laymen), and the garnish of your choice. Bo-ring.

The dog will let you know when it's dinner time. Whine, whine, whine. Heaven forbid she skip a meal. It's not like she's starving in this parts. But the bitch earns an Oscar for her portrayal of "Bulldog, Neglected."

Can Mr. Wookie just be home yet?? It's quiet entertaining for the back door to be open, to hear the bloop-bloop of his Jeep, to hear the gate squeak open, and to see the dog scramble for traction on the hardwood floors before hitting the dirt running for the gate. Lest not forget the foaming at the mouth that there's a serial murder intruder all before she realizes it's just the big lug of flight suit who denies her access to sleeping on the bed with us. She really needs to learn her poker face better. You wait until after Mr. Wookie is on the boat, then you drool on his pillow.

alone in the kitchen with leftovers.

In the alert of a text, life can completely change. Life can go from preparing to send Mr. Wookie on the boat to "Boat cancelled." Screeeeech - whaaaaaaaaa?? They can just do that? Apparently they can. And so now I have a caveman to still be in the home when I was so excited to put my on my flannel sheets, sleep with Pooch, not shave my legs (oh wait, that's still the same), and enjoy wine at 7:00pm while the sun is STILL up.

Oh, Daylight Savings...I've missed you. It's depressing to have the sun go down before 6:00pm. This is the beginning to an epic summer season - there'll be hammock time, cocktail time, beach time, swimsuit time, Mr. Wookie time, travel time, work-up time, and camping time. There's nothing like a SoCal summer.

But tonight I was on my own for dinner, so I just fried up some leftover kabobs and threw them over some white rice. Boring white rice. A bowl of white rice that really has no value in the home minus stirfry and rice pudding. So I did just that. I ate some dinner, then I was Jonesing for some rice pudding.

Yes, some people think rice pudding is for those with dentures.

Trust me. It's not. It's delicious.

I grew up on this stuff. The Sheriff is known for delectable hot cereal and rice pudding fixin's. I learned to love all of these and routinely make them for myself. Because some mornings require a lil 'stick-to-your-ribs' breakfast good stuff without the timeframe that bacon takes in the oven (only heathens fry bacon!).

So tonight my stove enjoyed a 45-minute field trip to the land of leftover rice, raisins, and cinnamon.

 Oh, and my Nikon battery was low, so fabulous Android pictures is what you get!

Are you a hot cereal fan? Oatmeal or Malt-O-Meal? Or maybe Cream of Wheat? Syrup or brown sugar? Or perhaps cold milk on top?

Are you not a hot cereal fan? Have you tried converting? Do you know what you're missing?

What's your favorite way to flavor hot cereals??

Sunday, March 11

wait, where's that hour of sleep? crap.

Thank you, Baby Sister, for the tag!! Now while I'm removing the eye boogers from my face thanks to the lost hour of sleep, you get to enjoy a Sunday of questions. What's this!??! Two days of blogging in a row? Is Mrs. Wookie back???? We'll see.....

1. What is your favorite piece of decor in your house?
It's cliche to say "Mr. Wookie" because I'm just being selfish wanting him home. How about my vat of wine corks???? They've taken dedication, tears, Uncle Sam, and are now spilling over the edge. I apparently need a bigger container. Shucks.

2. What TV show is a guilty pleasure for you?
The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills - because doesn't everyone want millions and to publicly bash their ex-husband for his small penis and desire to wear women's lingerie???

3. What is your favorite restaurant?
I've got to go with Baby Sister - Red Robin is a staple (hello, petite Bonsai, no tomato, side salad w/ balsamic dressing....yes, we'll take a basket of fries early!).

But then I do love locally owned breakfast joints in my area where the biscuits resemble newborn heads. They're huge, don't require epidurals, and taste great with homemade strawberry jam.

4. If you could live in any other state, where would you choose?
If the Navy would let us = Oregon.
If we hated everyone and just wanted to get away = Montana.
If we just wait and see where our next PCS takes us = who knows?!?!?  The excitement!

5. What kind of car do you drive?
An electric blue Kia that you'd swear was owned by a teen Asian. It's like...bright blue. Can't miss it.

6. What is the thing you do that wastes the most amount of time in your day?
My 25-minute commute. It's terrible. I used to have a 6-minute commute in Oregon. That. was. bliss.

There's literally nothing you can do during a drive minus rock out to XM. But then people just look at me and my Oregon plates wondering what kind of drugs I'm on. Well...the kind where I don't commute more than 30 minutes because then my livelihood is questioned. Until I'm making 6 figures (which happens oh so much on an English degree), I don't commute more than that.

7. What is your favorite website right now? - I dare you, waste some time on it!

8. Do you have any special talents?
I can.....umm.....I can cross the line with my humor and make people cringe??

9. What is your favorite feature about yourself?
I can lie with a straight face. :) So when it's really necessary, like a surprise, you never would have guessed.

10. How did you meet your significant other, if you have one?
Mr. Wookie dragged me back to his Dorm Cave in college. Okay, okay, it was I who called him. But who cares about semantics. I'm modern, he's modern. It works.

Now if I can only figure out how to get rid of him... ;)

11. What is your favorite color?
I'm having a grey phase lately - not too morbid (like black), but not too bright.

And because Baby Sister has a thing for extra questions that rock...

1. What is the first materialistic thing you would buy with 1 million dollars?
Shotgun response: A vacation for Mr. Wookie and I.
Sincere response: I'd pay off my parents home.
Actual response: Hire a legal team to keep the vultures away since long, lost family will always creep outta the woodworks for someone with money. I don't care about you. Get the eff away - go back to your drug habit.
California response: Our dream patio furniture. :)

2. What were you doing 5 years ago?
Ooooo....good question! I college, enjoying every second of life. A term away from graduation with only 3 classes on my schedule. Mr. Wookie and I had returned from a roadtrip down to Napa and Sonoma to celebrate our 3rd anniversary together. Life was good.

3. Your last meal on Earth would be?
In 'N Out? Petite Bonsai, no tomato? PB 'n J? Now I'm just stumped...

4. What is something you would change about yourself?
I wouldn't be so crotchity. Sometimes I'm just a bitch and I don't care about anyone. But then, if I really do like you, I will go out of my way to help you. But for the little people...I'm just a snatch.

5. Is there a specific time you remember being extra mean to your siblings?
Umm....all the time. Don't you know how annoying siblings can be!?!?! Helloo....I have an older brother, I should know. Can I hang out with you and your friends. I'll promise to be quiet. Although, to be honest, I just wanted to watch them play videogames. And what do I do now with Mr. Wookie????? him play videogames.

And my sisters were equally annoying - there were 2 of them. Twice the annoying torture. Can I jump on your bed? Can I borrow something? Can I open the door and run away just to make you angry??? Yes, yes you can.

6. If you had your own reality show, what would people's reaction be?
"Wow - she needs to quit drinking/quit complaining/quit....(you enter in your own opinions).

7. What is your dream job?
Once, upon the brink of college graduation, I saw a job for a speech writer for a politician. How. awesome. would. that. be???? You're the brilliance behind the smooze! You're the silent PR team who dangles lyrical brilliance in front of a bunch of led sheep in hopes that the voters eye the prize.

But then they required an English degree AND an MBA...and I wasn't quite there on the Bachelor's yet.

8. What genre do you pin on Pinterest the most? Why?
Pinterest has definitely fallen off the list of importance, but during I definitely think it was the best Guide to Holiday Purchasing ever. My family knew exactly how to operate it and I was rewarded greatly!

9. If you could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive, who would it be and why?
Eleanor Roosevelt. That woman was a badass.

10. Who would be the other 3 members in your Wolf-Pack?
Ooooo....I don't know!! Are we talking pedicures with my mom and sisters? Or drinking buddies thanks to Uncle Sam? Or my favorite coworkers in Virginia??

Saturday, March 10

when the Ginger turns green.

Some days I just wish that life were normal. That we both worked traditional 9 to 5's, suits, business cards, garage door openers, and travel mugs of coffee. But we don't. fact of those listed things, we do. But they don't apply to us individually. He wears a flight suit, I have business cards, I have the sole garage door opener, and he collects our mega stash of coffee mugs in his car because odd hours force you to become the bitch of caffeine. And caffeine in this house is coffee.

Nope. He's been working not traditional hours, as "bouncing" (FCLP's) have returned - he's been on watch, he's been briefing, he's been (accidentally) sleeping in on a Thursday so he missed PT. I can say he's been working so much that I've been making dinner for the whole week.

I know, right??

Has Hell froze over? What gives? Is the Chancellor appointing him to a new title?

Nope. There hasn't been room for Mr. Wookie to get off work, come home, decompress, cook, and enjoy dinner. So I've stepped up to handle the cooking responsibility while he's been nice enough to do the dishes (usually it's the other way around). But then there are the days where he doesn't have time to do the they just get neglected. And obviously I don't want to do them because once they back up that one wants to do them, so then we either rock/paper/scissors for them or buckle down and both do them.

Yes, some consider this squalor. Yes, I don't care. Yes, I deem living life and enjoying a Saturday of warm weather more important than the mess on the kitchen counters.

And for the record, the rest of the kitchen surface is clean. I just like to 'assembly line' the dirty shit in order to have light at the end of the tunnel.

So today was one of those days. One of those days where I'm bitter towards the Navy. Deep in my schedule is this thing called deployment. But before that happens, there's work-ups. And slated very soon is a half-Command detachment on to the boat where Mr. Wookie will be constructing the 'ready room.'

This is a traditional ready room on an aircraft carrier and at the squadron. Uncomfortable chairs. Black coffee. Stark walls. Well....stark decoration until you're told to build everything needed for the boat this weekend. Because the load-on happens sooner rather than later.

Guess you can tell I'm a little bitter in that I get to be the one who does the dishes since Mr. Wookie has to spend his weekend at Home Depot, Lowe's and inside the garage building the varying parts to the ready room. Mr. Wookie knows my angst isn't directed at him - but the task. Because nothing makes for an awesome weekend like learning that Friday you're going to be Bob Villa for the next 48 hours.

For anyone who's appreciated emailing home during deployment, you can thank the Mr. Wookie-types in the world. Because that's exactly what he's building here. Oh, and let's not discredit the Home Depot lady who couldn't read the bar code so she rung up a $30 piece of pine for $4.01. Not. gonna. say. anything.

And since it's been awhile since this bitch has seen the blogosphere, here's some love.