Monthly Archives: March 2012

Words I Need To Have Added To The English Language. Immediately.

What the fuck?

I, like a zomillion others in the land, love me some Words With Friends.  I’m not really that good at it but who gives a shit, right?  It’s something to pass the time at work.  I mean on the bus.  I’m sure that I am not alone when it comes to the practice of trying each and every letter in your tray in a space to try and make a word that you know goddamn good and well isn’t a word at all.  

I was having a round of this today while playing a game with my buddy Boris. I used the message feature to let her know that I thought it was complete and total bullshit that “elunodes” wasn’t a word.  She thought it was an awesome word.  She’s right.  It is an awesome word.

Here are some other groups of letters that need to become official words that are added to the English language so that I can actually win one of these fucking games:











So get on it, Internets!  Come up with some definitions for these words and start a petition or something.  And be quick about it because it’s my turn to play and this bitch is beating me.  Again.

Cheers ~ SF

If you like playing WWF and enjoy winning, play me!  My handle is SugarFree32  And if you play Scramble With Friends I would love to play a game with you because that shit is wicked fun.  Hangin’ With Friends can go fuck itself.

image source 


Worth 100

Oh hey, Internets.  What’s shakin’?  I’ve been super busy lately and haven’t had much time to update this blog with my nonsense.  Being as busy as I’ve been I did what any nutbar would do:  I started another blog.  It’s a photo blog type of thinger and you can check it out here.  I was inspired by my Twitter/Bloggy friend Boris who started a 365 photo blog where she posts a photo every day for 365 days.  Mine won’t be like that because I know my procrastinating ass all too well.  But don’t worry, I’ll continue to update this blog on an irregular and unpredictable basis with all of the profanity laden randomness that you’ve all come to know and love.

So if you want to see some of my crappy photos coupled with words that aren’t “fuck” then check it out.  I mean, if you want.

You want.  I know you do.

Cheers ~ SF

I Found My Calling: Writing Recipes

Forgive me if I’m a bit scarce this week but have you read my banner?  That’s right Internets, it’s my mother-fucking birthday week.  Which my co-workers recognize and appreciate accordingly.

Custom birthday banner clearly identifying how many days I will talk about and celebrate my goddamn special day

Today I was outside having a smoke with the chick from payroll and she started yammering on about how she wasn’t sure if the chicken she took out for dinner that morning would be thawed when she got home.  I know, it was a thriller of a conversation. Somehow or other I told her about what I made for dinner one night while my mother was visiting.  Oh yeah, my mom was here for a visit.  There will be a post on that later.  There was a dog show involved.  Anyway, when I told Payroll Administrator what I made she said she wanted to write it down because it sounded delicious and easy and she could just stop at the store and grab the few ingredients needed.  I told her not to bother and that I would just email it to her when we went back in.  And because I’m nothing but professional at work I emailed her this recipe:

Subject: Sausage Onion &Pepper Goodness

 1 lb Italian Sausage (I prefer the hot) tee hee hee

1 Red Pepper

1 Green Pepper

1 Yellow or Orange Pepper

1 Medium onion

2-20 garlic cloves depending on if you want to get any action later that night

2 Tablespoons Tomato Paste

1 Large Loaf Crusty Bread (or hoagie rolls….whatevs)

A bunch-o-cheese (mozzarella, provolone, parm)


Brown sausage in large skillet

Cut peppers into ½ inch strips

Cut onion however the fuck you want

Microplane or finely dice garlic and add to sausage while browning (tubey garlic paste shit can be used here as well)

Make sure to keep stabbing the shit out of the sausage with a spoon while it’s cooking or you’ll end up with a big ass sausage brick (I swear that’s never happened to me.  I’ve never plopped the sausage into the skillet then walked away and forgot I was cooking only to come back to a sausage brick)  Shut up.

When sausage is thoroughly cooked add peppers and onion

When the veggies are cooked to your liking (soft but not mushy) add tomato paste

Stir all that good shit for a few minutes


Cut open crusty bread and cut the loaf in half.  Hollow that mo’ fo’ out.  Place in 9×13 baking pan or whatever you have on hand, Betty Crocker.  Put cheese on the bottom of the bread; add meat and veggie awesomeness, top with more delicious cheese.  Really, just cheese the shit out of that bitch.  Put under broiler for a few minutes to melt cheese.  Remove from oven. (obviously)


Enjoy that shit and think of Heather and how fucking awesome she is.   And it’s her birthday.


*If you are pressed for time or if you’re just a lazy-ass, skip the oven part and just yell at your husband, “Dinner’s ready mother-fucker!!!” and make him assemble his own damn sammich while you enjoy a cocktail and a smoke because you just slaved over the stove for like 12 minutes

Now here are some crappy pictures I took with my cell-phone.  (pictures were not included in email)

There was no coffee or toast served with this meal


I fucking love you.

Cheers ~ SF

What’s In The Box??? (Say it like Brad Pitt in ‘Se7en’)

Moving:  I’ve done it a lot.  More than most I would say.  I’m somewhat of a pro at it much to the chagrin of my mother, I’m sure.  It pretty much goes the same every time.  I start out with all of the boxes being organized and labeled by room for easy unpacking and somewhere along the way shit goes south.  By the end of the whole debacle there’s usually a box that is scribbled upon haphazardly with a Sharpie marker listing the contents as 1 eggbeater – 1/2 bag of cat food – Nerf gun + ammo – broken dreams – 2 cans of soup.  You know, the miscellaneous shit that you just toss in a box at the end of the packing fiasco just so you can end it, accept the fact that you’re not getting your security deposit back and get on down the fucking road.

This last move to Seattle was no different and I found evidence of it in the basement the other night.  Behold:



Did I really censor my own moving box????

I see a modeling session in Bruce’s future!

Cheers ~ SF