Friend-cation and Camping Sucks

I just went on the most fun friend-cation ever!  BEST TIME EVER!!  YOLO fools!!!  (We were all about yelling YOLO about anything and everything because we hate it so much.  YOLO is dumb (as is Facebook and everyone’s obnox posts about themselves).  It’s something you’d yell while doing a keg stand, however it’s actually trying to be like…insightful and deep at the same time.  Dumb.  (However, fuckin’ YOLO bitches)

YOLO BITCHES!!In case you didn’t know (or are dense) Friend-cations are when you go on vacation with your friends and you live it up like drunkards, fiends and wild animals/cavemen.  We (myself and 6 friends) went to a lake and stayed in a camp ground.  We made foods over the fire like cavemen, laughed a shit-ton, played games, went swimming, laid in the sun (my tan is epic…for me that is), had camp fires with adult beverages and made smores…made with reese’s cups (totally dank, BTW) etc.  It was awesome, especially the camping in the rain bit.  And in this post, I’m going to share some of our genius with you.  We’re like the smartest people ever.  First off, this came out of my mouth one morning:

“I can’t have bacon because I don’t eat beef.”

What a gem!!  The mind power behind that statement is just….wow…off the scale.  WOW!!  Plus I totally eat bacon and so that statement was blatantly false on so many levels. Secondly, my friend said the following because my husband was wondering (also super smartly) how the hell ants find all the sand they use for their little mounds when there is NO sand in the vicinity.

“They have smaller hands than you, James. “

There was no argument there.  They do have smaller hands, don’t they?  Genius!!!

We also played this game where we had to answer random questions about ourselves and then the person who asked the question had to guess who had said what.  Then at the end of each round we made it into a totally def poetry jam session.  It was all about the tone of voice and the timing of reading off our own answers all in a row.  Seriously, the genius that abounded was too much.  We all threw down the mike, like…shit…we awesome (and dirty as hell and outrageous as can be)!  YOLO BITCHES!!  Also…maybe you had to be there…maybe… and since I can’t do this as spoken word, you’re going to have to try to replicate the annoying sound of my voice in your head.  Can you do it?  CAN YOU!!??  If yes, read on….

Now in no particular order are some poems. BTW be warned that these are just filthy-stinking-gross things that we created around the camp fire.  YOLO.

Sun Bathing….Pizza
Clumsy Shit….Facial Area
Resting Bitch Face Syndrome
Kitten Love Bites….Cat Poop Emporium
Small Balls….Do Massive Drugs
I’m With Brostitute

Super Secret Nerd….Hippie Nipple
Ant Race…Eating Ice Cream
Chicken Nuggets and BBQ Sauce
Sticking My Very Large Foot, In My Very Large Mouth
My Tongue, Because Then Everyone Will Think You’ve Got the Herp
People Who Don’t Do Their Mother-Fucking Jobs
I am Excellent at Life….I’ve got a
Mote and A Drawbridge
Pure and Simple Douch-Baggery
and Some Robin Hood Shit
Fuck-Yea….That is All.

The Canoli
Ass Slapping
NBC Propaganda
Cheddar Wurst….Then Thinking I Might be Right…When Clearly My Wife is Right
My Boobs….Hoarding
Juggling….Camaro on Blocks
Running with No Inspection
Don’t Prosecute the Prostitute

Real Doll
Fuck You…A-Hole….Love you…Mean it…
Slots…Watching TV…
Misplace Things….On Top of a Birthmark
Porn Star…Crying Puppies…Waking up Early
Bald Eagle…Hairy Nipples…

Vast Void of Nothingness
Give Them Something Really Ugly Instead
Your Life – YOLO Bitches!
Everything – Fuck Off!
Needlepoint….Hit Me Baby One More Time
Rotating Heart Shaped Bed

Just Wow.  WOWWWWWEEEE!!!  We’re soo special.

Also…let me just reiterate that camping sucks the big one.  It really does.  The bugs had their small hands all the frick over me.  ALL OVER!!  Even at night in the tent while trying to sleep their hands were everywhere.  I claimed that Mr. VS was having a bug party in our tent.  He invited all his friends.  One of his friends tried to get frisky with me (a goddamned moth) by trying to fly down my shirt and nestling in a blatantly sexual manner (RAPE!) against my breast. It was OUTRAGEOUS!

So there I was laying there miserably the last night we were there on our deflating air mattress in a bug infested tent….dirty (covered in smoke-smell from the fire, half washed off sunscreen, bug spray, hair all tangled and a mess) just wishing I could die.  It was…nasty!!  Mr. VS said that I should stop making myself miserable and I guess I was.  I was obsessing about how much I hate camping and how I always have to pee during the night which means I have to actually WAKE up and go to the bathroom.  I also hate it when it rains and you’re trapped in the tent or under a tarp or something.  Camping is also sooo much work.  You can’t just say…I’m going to eat in 20 minutes!  NO NO NO.  You have to do all this prep work to cook stuff, so you never eat on time.  As you can tell it was very much time for me to go home!!

And yet, every stinkin single year, I go again.  I do it all over again.  This time was better in that more people came and also we had some nice weather.  FYI there were ‘kini’s everywhere and the boys were totally oggling themselves silly.  Their brains were not in residence anymore.  They had checked out.  Boys have problems.  They don’t even recognize the MONSTER that comes over them in the form of sex-brain.  Maybe that should be another post.  Boy Sex Brain.  It’s like an alien species or a primitive one.  Jungle Monkey Boy Sex Brain.  Also I want to write about Resting Bitch Face.  I have this.  It’s a real problem.  OR maybe just being a bitch is a problem. It’s easier to just say that my face is a bitch.  It’s her FAULT!

Ok…the rambling must cease.  Anyway…just wanted ya’ll to know, first off:  YOLO and second off: I went camping, I’m a genius and so are my friends.  and Third:  I hate camping with all my heart.  Staying in a tent is inhumane.


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On Mood Disorders and the Writing Process

Victoria Sawyer:

I love this…it perfectly describes living with an “unbalanced” mind which is both a blessing and a curse for the creatively minded. And also sort of genius and crazy at the same time. I have definitely felt this way before!

Originally posted on Out Where the Buses Don't Run:


The good thing about being both creative and bipolar is that when you’re hypomanic (or manic if you’re Bipolar I), all you want to do is create. The itch, the urge, the drive to create is there, all around you. It’s inescapable. It’s a thrill ride. Words seamlessly form into sentences. Those sentences suddenly morph into lucid, fever- withered paragraphs. That bat-shit crazy WIP you’ve been avoiding for months because it’s too crazy even for your sensibilities now seems like it’s falling into place. Hell, you even caved in and tried the “index cards” approach for once, because, why not, and your hypomanic hairs stood up in awe over how easy it was to follow this device.


Just the thought of writing makes you want to quit your white-collar job and chase this creative dragon until you wrest that book you’ve wanted to write out of her.

The bad thing…

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I Abused Photoshop Just For You

Here’s another one of those things that just blows your mind.  PHOTOSHOP!!  I’m actually a photoshop user, but I don’t really abuse it like some people do.  I don’t flog the ‘shop.  However, for you, for today, I decided to do it.  Abuse!!  (Also this post is NEWLY updated, by popular demand, with the original photo at the bitter end of the post so you can judge for yourself….)

So I photoshopped the shit out of a photo of me.  Look at how GLAM I look?!!  Umm…but yeah…now it looks nothing like me.  Opps!  Guess that’s what PS is all about.

In which I have photoshopped myself into looking better

So, the ways in which I have defiled myself in the name of photo vanity are these:

I whitened the shit out of my teeth (that sounds weirdly gross and disgusting put that way)

I slimmed down my chub face and made it all thin.  (Dreaming of you, you thin face!!  BAH!!)

I whitened the whites of my eyes.  And I enlarged my eyes too.  At first I went TOO far but then I scaled back on it a bit.

I totally skinnied down my arms and my butt.  And I increased my bust size.  BUST!!  However, it looks a bit strange, so I wasn’t exactly successful.

Admit it looks fake.  It does!  It’s those WHITE teeth that are totally over the top.  I went too far with my abuse.  Although anything is really abuse.  I didn’t however have to edit out any spots because duh, my skin now is a thing of beauty.  (Thank you Nicazel)

I did though, do some blurring/softening of my skin to make it look better.  I probably should have whitened up my shirt and pants and also smoothed out my hair some.

Jassus!  Everytime I look at it, I get a fright!  Who is that weird alien-headed being!  There’s something not quite right!  It feels like a ghost or something.  *Shivers*

Maybe  I made my chin too small?  At first I thinned the cheeks and then my chin looked huge, so I had to do some minor surgery to rectify the problem.  So…either this example shows you that photoshop can be abused in a way that is scary or…it shows you that I’m not used to doing this kind of abuse with photoshop (first time abuser/offender) and thus I suck at using the liquify tool and I went overboard on the whitening.  I think next I’ll do some really weird morphology.  Wait for it….



A photo that has been altered to the extreme of me

In this photo, huge ridic boob job (sorry to draw your attention to my unmentionables! The scandal!  But they’re only digital, sorry! (HA!! OMG)).  An unsuccessful nose job (although it doesn’t even look that different than my real nose!).  I fucked with my eyebrows, my eye color, hair color, lip color, face shape, arms shape, neckline, teeth, eye whites, butt, thighs (look at the edge of the chair!  IT’s all WARPED!!  So is the necklace!! I’m WARPED!!) etc.

I went mad!  MAD!!  So pretty! (HA!) It’s dumb because if it made you feel better, that would be stupid.  It’s not like I can use Photoshop to actually change my REAL life self.  I can just change this one instance of myself that you see.  So what’s the point?  I’m still walking around in real life, looking just like I look.  (I guess that’s where plastic surgery comes in?  But that’s not nearly so easy as PS!  And also…just why?  Why? Personally I think the extra-terrestrials made me beauti-ful just the way I am. Either them or my parents or genetics or monkeys or something).

AND…AND!!! Why the hell are there so many magazines with this weird shit out there?!  We should totally rise up and denounce them because they make everyone look like freakish aliens and extra-perfect robot people.  It’s really pretty scary.  And then we assume that there are REAL people who look that good/perfect.  Well, IT’s all LIES!!  LIES ALL LIES!!  No one looks that perfect or alien in real life.  I’m sorry, there are no aliens.  I’m just saying that to soothe you, BTW.  I don’t want you going into a frenzy because my blog post IMPLIED that aliens are real.  Besides implying is totally different than coming out and saying it.  So I feel safe (from your alien hatred/shaming/backlash/degredation/fear/etc)  Aliens are people too, you guys.  Stop hating.

Also see how carefully I’m planning and scheming to perfect the way you perceive me?  I’m manipulating you into thinking a certain way about me.  I’m very very clever.  Can you see that now?  I’m making myself soooooo hot in these pics.  That’s how I want you to see me…like Barney’s scale from How I Met Your Mother.  It’s called the Mendoza scale.  It’s a scale that measures your hot to crazy ratio.  Basically the hotter you are, the crazier too.  My ratio is clearly (from the pics above) super hot and also super extra crazy.  YES!  I am totally winning at life.

Listen, I’m not trying to say Photoshop is bad.  Photoshop is actually an amazing program and I have no problem if people want to eliminate a blemish or two or want to recolor photos etc, but changing your whole body and face is ridic.  It’s not that Photoshop is bad, it’s that people are bad!  Just like so many other things in this world, people are the abusers!  Also Photoshop is kind of like magic.  Look at the cool shit you can do with it!  Look how you can make yourself look all glam and/or alien!  Of course some of the alien-ness is due to my inelegance with PS.  It’s not PS’s fault that I’m a hack that just wildly goes in and makes ridic changes to myself.  Or it could be that I’m really an alien and I have just revealed my true self to all of you.  Surprise REVEAL!!  Don’t you just love surprise reveals?!

DID I?  Or Didn’t I?!!  Wouldn’t you like to know!AND…GET READY!!!  Here’s a photo that will give you NIGHTMARES!!  TRUE PHOTOSHOP ABUSE!!  HIGH LEVELS!!  TOXIC LEVELS!!  HAHAHA…look at that shit eating grin!!  (In all honesty, I think this photo just broke WordPress because this post is totes (ha!) acting weird now that I inserted that pic!  It’s like HAUNTED or something.

Oh well, enjoy!!  Also, please recognize the lengths I’ll go to, to satisfy you Angst readers.  I will photoshop myself into a beautiful monster just for you, I love you that much! Also I’ll admit I’m an alien to you, because you make me feel safe.  And that I’m pretty high on the Mendoza Scale.  Don’t you guys feel special and loved? (WHAT A TOUCHING DISPLAY!! Admit your hearts are feeling the warm fuzzies as they go pit-a-pat.  Then when you peek at the photo below, you feel the cold pricklies.  Shudder!! ALIEN!!)

Wait for it…..

Wait for it!!!!


Scroll like a motha-fucka!!!

Scary photoshop image with large eyes and distorted head
AHHHH!!!! RUN AWAY!!! IT’s my TRUE FACE!!!! No-makeup selfie!! NOT!!!


Okay, okay, here’s the real actual photo…smile!!

actual un-touched photo of VS
Will the REAL Victoria Sawyer please stand up!!

Weight Gain Extravaganza

Recently I came to the conclusion that we have so many feelings and emotions and thoughts and self-flagellation and judging of others involved in our weight.  I know, I’m a genius for realizing this super obvious emotional response.  However, the thought that occurred to me is that we ALL do it without even realizing we’re doing it!

Sexy Scale!  Sexy Scale!  You judge the shit out of the rest of us!!
Sexy Scale! Sexy Scale! You judge the shit out of the rest of us!!

Tell me if this seems familiar to you:  You see someone out somewhere or see a photo of them online and if they’ve gained weight you judge them.  I think it’s most drastic if they used to be otherwise and have suddenly gained some weight.  Now, think about yourself, if you gain a few pounds how do you feel?  Do you beat yourself up, hate seeing photos of yourself and feel self conscious around everyone including your family, friends, co-workers and acquaintances?  Yes?  Me too.  It’s like you are some how “not in control”  or seen as somehow “less” because you allowed yourself to gain a few pounds.  How sad.  :(

It’s like it’s such a big deal.  Your face looks rounder, the belly is a bit fuller, the jeans are tighter, you can’t breathe because your bra is cutting into your chest in what must be the only good thing about gaining weight cause your boobs have grown too.  Psychologically it sucks.  You don’t want anyone to see you because you KNOW that in their heads they will be judging the shit out of you, just like you did that other person who gained weight.  Why the hell do we do this?  Why do we beat ourselves and others up because of a few pounds?  Why are we so incredibly concerned with our image and feeling sexy or fit or slim?  Why can’t we embrace ourselves?  Why do we feel the need to be absolutely in control of what we eat and then beat ourselves up when we fail to do so?

I’ve been struggling a bit with my weight lately.   I’m not sure what’s different,  if it’s the meds I’m on, or if I’ve been eating just a bit shittier than normal, or if I’m just a lazy and can’t seem to get my act together about exercise.  It’s a frustrating psychological battle.  The desire to control our bodies, to control what we eat, when we exercise etc is tiring and then the energy I expend worrying about it and feeling stressed out.  But for some reason I can’t seem to gain control of the situation at the moment and it’s sending me into a panic.  I don’t want to be seen by friends, family and acquantainces because I know they’ll notice!  And for some reason I have this incredible desire to look good or to look my best.  I am vain!

So much self worth is tied into how I think other people perceive me.  What the hell?  Being human is totally bogus, amiright?!  You have to maintain this old body just like you would your house or your car or pretty much everything because if left to its own devices you know that over time every damn thing goes to hell.  And then the old body gets older and starts to breakdown regardless of your “maintenance” schedule.  I feel like I have to treat my body like my car.  Victoria, it’s time for an OIL CHANGE!!  But there is no yearly inspection for my body.  Well…there is, it’s called the Annual Physical, which you know is basically BS.  And the only reason you really go (at least for us ladies) is to have our Va-jj’s checked out and to get refills for the year on all our meds.  Otherwise they might slightly chastise you for not exercising enough, but that’s about it.

I’m over this whole “having a body” thing.  It gets old.  I guess in some ways it’s pretty sweet.  Such as things like sex, back rubs, petting cats, cuddling, eating good shit, getting drunk or whatever.  That’s all good stuff.  But otherwise, there’s a lot of pain involved with having a body and a lot of pain in the ass shit to deal with too.  I really can’t afford the payments on this old body of mine.  It’s TOO EXPENSIVE!!

Also, as an aside, let me just tell you that Mr. VS has been driving me batty because lately he keeps saying, “I lost more weight!”  DAMN HIM!!  Boys are super evil.  He claims that he’s been “working his ass off” at playing boy games outdoors and that it’s keeping him lithe.  I guess sitting around inside with nose in book is not the way toward weight loss.  WHY NOT!!  Damn you PHYSICS!!

Anyway, so, (raising a glass of something filled with delicious calories) here’s to me feeling shitty about gaining a few lbs.  *toast*!!  (Food, where?!!)  I’m going to honestly try not to have those evil thoughts about people gaining weight! I’m not going to judge or feel smug or feel pity or whatever!  And I’m going to try to rock the fact that I’ve gained a few by strapping this old body into the tightest dress I can find (with some kind of full body stocking to keep the jiggle at bay) and rock the cleavage like nobody’s business because there are some benes to gaining a few.

And here’s to all of us constantly struggling and beating ourselves up over how we look. If nothing else, I can tell you that you’re not alone and I can assume you would say the same to me.  Don’t deny that you’re HUMAN.  I know you are!  And yes we’re all very much the same, so stop thinking, “I’m nothing like that Victoria Sawyer!”  Newsflash…you’re exactly like me!!  HAHA!! Except for my loyal bot readers.  Lucky bastards…all brains and no flab.

Resting Bitch Face Syndrome

So one day when I was perusing the ole Facial Book (why do I still do it?  Although without…I wouldn’t have found out about this serious disorder, so FB is good for something), I found that someone had posted about something called “Resting Bitch Face.”


That’s why I’m so damn pretty…like Scarlet O’Hara. I practice resting bitch face on the daily. (BTW..don’t fuck with me…mothafucka!) hahaha.

Guys…for serious, this is a real thing!  I’m NOT FUCKING JOKING!!  I have this!  It’s a true disorder!  It’s when your face just looks like a bitch when it’s just sitting there normally.  I can remember when I was younger that people would often ask if I was upset or pissy but I wasn’t!  I had NO IDEA what they were talking about!  It wasn’t until later that I realized that my face looks bitchy!  She’s a bitch!  She will glare you into submission when I’m not even cranky or pissy.  She will bitch slap you even before I get angry.  It’s a REAL PROBLEM!!  It makes people hate me!

Photo of Victoria Sawyer in a field of flowers, looking...well...bitchy
Look at me suffer!!….See how I can be in a field of pretty flowers and still look mighty pissed off.  Don’t fuck with me flowers!!  I WILL DESTROY YOU!!  I am NOT AMUSED!!

For example at one of my part time jobs at a grocery store I was working in the front end for a few months when finally I decided to go into their customer service area.  The girls there DID NOT WANT ME because they thought I was a total bitch and it was all HER fault, my goddamned RESTING BITCH FACE!  She makes me look unapproachable and terrible and cranky!  I learned about all this judging of my bitch-face after the fact once I got to know the girls in the customer service area and they finally admitted that they thought I was a bitch, because when I’m not smiling, I do look like a certified card carrying rip-your-head-off, scream in yo’ face, slap you silly, judging you like crazy, totally better’n’you fuckin’ bitch. (BTW obviously after they got to know me (like after the FIRST time working with me, they learned that I’m the awesomest ever and also super sly sarcastic and kind of funny and cool.  Not to toot my own horn or nothing…)

So yes, it’s a real problem.  RBFS makes it really hard to make a good first impression if you’re just sitting there minding your own goddamned business.  Unless you forcably put on a damn smile, people will look at you and think…GOOD LORD LOOK AT THAT BITCH!!  She thinks she sooo cool.  She thinks she better than everyone.  She thinks she can glare at us.  BTW…I do have a killer glare.  I’m like Medusa, minus the snakes.  I used to shoot snake eyes at this guy I used to work with and he’d quake in his boots!  It’s a good thing I don’t post too many photos of my face on this here blog or else you’d be terrified and stop coming back because this blog would become known as that bitch-face-selfie-blog.  And who wants that?  With words I can paint whatever picture I want.  Bitch or no.  Although it seems that I do lean toward bitch much of the time…hmm…what am I learning here?  Is resting bitch face just  a reflection of what is on the inside?!!

Secondly, I have to thank FB for this too.  I totally want this T-shirt from the Big Lebowski.

This shirt would be such a lie for me…but I just love Walter…sooooo I want it. Plus…it’s the best “calm” shirt I’ve ever seen. It’s like telling people off. This matched with my bitch-face…wow! ZING!!

Let me just say here that Walter Sobchuk is a dope dope guy.  I love how he tells Donnie to Shut the Fuck Up constantly but then sometimes listens to him and then starts a conversation.  I like how he throws his “ringer” out the window of a moving car and says it’s his “whites.”  It’s just tooo good.  Nevermind fighting a stranger in the alps.  OH WALTER!!


It’s like a challenge, “Calmer than you!!”  and I love it when Walter says it to the Dude, because the Dude is freaking out!  Truth though is that I’m never calmer than anyone.  I’m usually fired up.  Although sometimes I’m tired and cranky so then maybe I’m calmer.  Maybe.  Maybe when I’m sleeping I’m calmer.

Also…RESTING BITCH FACE means I might be a real bitch!!  One day you’re gonna come to this blog and find that it’s just pictures of me sitting there sullenly glaring like a pro and you’ll run away because you’ll think I can reach right through your computer and slap your face off.  And maybe I can.  People in real life know not to mess with me when I’ve got my bitch face on.  You just leave the room.  Walk away.  Leave the bitch alone.  You don’t poke at the bitch, you don’t talk to her, you don’t try to ask her to do anything unless you want your head bitten off.

Also I know people don’t like the word Bitch, but I kind of like it. It’s got a nice ring.  I particularly like the -tch sound.  It’s just so hard and tee sounding.  It sounds kind of strong…kind of mean…kind of fucking serious. You don’t mess with a bitch.  You just don’t.  I kind of like owning it…like yeah…I’m a bitch!  I’m not soft and fuzzy and cuddly and girly.  I’m a fucking hardcore b-i-t-c-h.  I stand up for myself.  I’m strong.  I look like I can take care of myself.  You would NEVER offer to carry a Professional Resting Bitch Face’s luggage at the airport.  No way.  You’d be too afraid.  She can HURT YOU.  It’s either your feelings or you body.  You’d better WATCH IT!!

This post is really coming off rather bitchy of me, isn’t it?  I guess there’s no denying the truth.  If Angst (the blog) is anything at all, it’s a place where I come clean about the dirty truths in my life.  So I accept, not only do I have RBFS but I’m also just a bitch.  A nice one.


Studying the Male of the Species and Boy Eyes

Do you live with a man?  Do you know one?  Have you ever interacted with the male of the species?  You know…those ones that aren’t female?  Yeah, those guys.  You’ve seen them around, I’m sure.  They’re everywhere.  And yes, if you’re female,  you’ve probably been ogled by these so-called “males” of the species.  You know they’re there (with those EYES!), even if sometimes you forget.  Just FYI, their eyes are used for dastardly business all the time or are not used at all in epic FAILURES.  This is about one of those failures and not about the way they use their eyes for ill.

I’ve decided that since I am caged (live with) a male of the species, I am going to note their traits and write about them from time to time in a series aptly named, the male of the species.  I am going to STUDY my male of the species and write about the things he does or DOES not do.  I’m setting up an experiment.  I’m going to go scientific method on his ass (and he claims to adore the scientific method, so hopefully he’ll adore this too.  Who wouldn’t??).

So…the male…have you seen him?  Have you noted his traits and ways of being?  If you have noticed them around, doing their thang, you may have noticed a little something about them.  (and yes, this is INCREDIBLE stereotyping, and I’mma do it anyway!  YOU CAN’T STOP ME!!!)

What I want to write about today is what I lovingly call:  Boy Eyes. Have you noticed this flaw in their character?  Boy eyes are when a boy cannot find something for the LIFE OF HIM even when it’s right in front of his face.  Mr. VS suffers quite badly from this affliction (He needs help in the form of a 12 step program, except step 1 is always just asking me to find stuff for him.  and then he negates every other step.  $%^$!!).

So…every time he says he can’t find something (This STILL happens even though I’ve told him right where it is)…I say…”are you looking with boy eyes?” And you guessed right, he is always looking with boy eyes!

Mr. VS is like…. “Yesssss” in a guilty sort of frustrated voice.  Then I go…. “ARGGSSSSSS!!!”  (Much like an angry pirate)


And when the boy eyes are in full effect and he asks me for help…guess what? The item in question is RIGHT THERE.  Literally the item could jump out and bite Mr. VS on the nose and somehow he could not see it!  Heaven help me!

I’m serious.  Boys cannot find things.  They just can’t.  Nor do they seem to remember where they put things, EVER.  Or…well…most of the time.  The male of the species is silly.  Also how come a lot of other male species are all pretty and shit. WTH?  We got human males instead.  Where is the damn plumage?  Where are the bright colors? Where is the bright blue penis-like nose or the bright red ass or the big antlers?  Where is the strutting, promenading, fighting, feats of strength, singing and/or music making used to get us to mate with them?  Hmmmm…. No comment I guess… (If you know the male of the species you have probably come across their mating dance.  So I don’t need to reiterate that here.  Suffice to say…it needs work.  Question:  Are those other species putting the male of our species to shame??  Don’t answer that or our males will feel quite poorly. (HAAAA!!))

Mr. VS needs to work on those boy eyes of his as well.  Too bad it’s encoded in his DNA.  So he’ll claim he can’t help himself.  It’s like when he says he can’t “be trusted” to do grocery shopping.  The truth though is much darker.  He actually screws up grocery shopping on purpose so he’ll never be asked to do it again (usually by buying 12 cans of baked beans, 8 jars of pasta sauce, 12 cans of tuna etc. because he claims we need “staples” and I don’t buy enough).  THE GAMES!!  THE MALE OF THE SPECIES!! ARGGG!!!


Ummm…so….social media and blogging is actually kind of hard to keep up on.  Does anyone else hate posting to Facebook?  It’s like whenever you post there are crickets chirping loudly in the background.  NO ONE is there.  Or if they are, they are not hearing you despite your repeated screaming of the same shit again and again at the top of your lungs.  Keep screaming honey, no one is coming to rescue you.  There is no knight in shining armor!!  Bah.  It’s too bad because I get to hear all the bullshit over at my feed and don’t see a lot of posts from people I actually WANT to hear from.  I think that our migration patterns should change.  We should fly straight through Space Book and onward to something better, some kind of greener pastures.  Why hasn’t anyone invented these greener pastures yet?  GET ON IT!!

Secondly I’m trying to get better with Twitter.  I was doing it for a while but then gave up on it because I really only felt like taking the time to blog. However…Twitter is better because you can actually hear from people.  Like just random people will talk to you and that’s sweet.

I want to be more social (blog-wise) in my actual place-of-living.  But how the hell do you do that? I’ve seen a few social media groups around but I’m kind of afraid to just put myself out there and join one or show up to an event.  Here’s your moment of truth: Guys…I feel like a big fat (phat) fraud.  Have you ever felt that way?  It’s bad too because I had someone call me Amateur…so that doesn’t help with my feelings of fraudulence.

Let me explain what that means…it means you are doing something, like writing or social media, or trying to be like a “personality” or a “brand” or whatever (which is dumb cause I’m a  PERSON) when in fact you feel that you suck and are starring in a musical called Failure.  And you’ll ask yourself….How can I hand out business cards about my ludicrous, unprofessional truth-blog?  How can I say…I’m a serious writer and blogger when THIS blog is what people find when they search for me???  (GODDAMNIT…I love you Angst (don’t take this the WRONG WAY!!) I wouldn’t change a thing!  I’d marry you all over again!  Let’s renew our vows???!!  PUH-LEASE?)

For example:  I see all these people “in the real world” who have jobs as graphic designers or writers or social media marketers and then I feel…that I am truly at the bottom of the stack and being crushed by everyone who is sooo much better than me because someone actually believed in what they were doing enough to hire them and actually pay them real hard CASH-MONEY.  In Response, I feel that I am fake, trying to be something I clearly can never become.

BUTTT…my friend who is a photographer feels this same way and she’s good!  She has told me countless times to fake it until you make it.  This is harder when you keep trying to make it and people slap your ass down and tell you you’re an amateur. (People can be real assholes in the world, BTW, even those that you think should be supportive.  Talk about a real “community” feel.)

So…by “fake it, until you make it” you have to actual go out and say things like…I’M A BLOGGER!!  (not booger) or I’M A WRITER!!  or…I CAN DO SOME GRAPHIC DESIGN SORT OF STUFF THAT SUCKS.  Nope…noppppeee…that’s doing it wrong.  I’M A GRAPHIC DESIGNER…SUCK IT!!  And you have to keep saying it, and keep handing out those business cards and keep writing and blogging even if it’s the craziest most unorganized thing that anyone has ever seen, even if NO one even looks at your blog, because how else will you ever make it?

So…Yes, it might feel awfully fake for me to announce on twitter (in my profile) that I’m a writer and blogger and self-published author.  It might feel like a stretch (because clearly I have dubbed myself all these things)..but if I don’t start there where will I start?  And who, please tell me, will ever announce to the world that I am these things if I don’t?  Some dumb job?  Some job title?  Lame.  Lame.  Even with the title, you can still suck at what you claim you’re a professional at.  (I’ve seen this…fo’real)

Talk about a crisis of confidence.  Like how did anyone actually become what they claim they are?  Who gave them a diploma in whatever it is they claim to be good at?  In some cases, yes they have one (but how easy is it to get a degree if you PAY the money?), but in most cases, it’s some kind of self-declared thing.  And yes, even with that diploma you can still suck at what you claim you do (Yes, just saying you did such and such at your old job in an interview doesn’t mean you actually did it remotely well).  And even with that fancy title and lots of money, yes you can still suck at what you do.  Afterall the best way to get promoted:  Fuck up and move up.  Seems to happen in all kinds of companies.

The truth is that people get promoted, not because they are good at what they do, but because they are confident (and yes, FALSE confidence is a real thing and many people suffer from it).  And when people (hiring managers etc) see that someone is confident they take these subtle cues from them and therefore also feel confident about them and what they can do.  Guess what?  It’s all smoke and mirrors.  It’s all fucking bullshit!  The best person for the job, the one who is best at the tasks is usually the person who isn’t full of themselves, but they aren’t the ones getting the promotions.  Hence…competence and confidence can be two sides of a coin.  The confident are not always the most competent.  (How many people in well paid, supervisory roles are like this???  Have you seen it??! )

Umm…so I guess the moral of the story is that confidence is everything and you can actually get away with being the biggest fuck up ever and STILL get promoted (Just keep fucking up! You’ll make it!  Don’t give up now!).  However, how do you fake that shit if you don’t naturally feel that you are the best thing since sliced bread?   What if you don’t go around like an asshole feeling full of yourself all the time?  What if you have, gasp of shock, humility and/or doubts.  What if you’re like….a regular person and you don’t want to be special, you just want to get a job in the field you love, but all you see are the non-competent confident bastards getting ahead of you?

I'm starting my resume right now.  Here's the first sample...
I’m starting my resume right now. Here’s the first sample…

I guess what I’m going to do is just say how awesome I am.  There.  I’m this really awesome, unique, special, off the wall, caustic, hell-yeah, bitchy writer.  I do it for the LOVE OF THE GAME, Yo!!  I’m like a basketball player but without a professional team or cheerleaders or even a coach.  I’m on my own!  I just go out there and shoot those damn hoops!  I’m lay-ups and dunks all the fucking time!  I’m goddamned 7’3″!!  Boo-ya!!  (Keep faking that shit.  Keep going!!)

So…I’m taking an online class (Marketing, fucking professional)…and I’ll hopefully meet some people there and maybe I’ll get up the guts to attend one of these social media groups or conferences or something (Guts=confidence.  Must get guts).  I’ll bring my business cards and sell this old blog like she’s a diamond in the rough!  Polish off the shit and you’ll really see a writer with skills!  She breaks all the rules, yes and she appears nuts, but seriously, who else can bring that kind of whaaa-zam?  Who else can make you feel the way I do?!  Like someone stuck a damn needle in your eye?!!  (OMG!)  Who else can take so many random tangents and somehow make it sound sort of coherent?  Who can fucking tie shit together that has no chance of ever actually making sense…but yet…it does??!!  Who else has the GUTS to try something new, to be off the wall and full of madness?  Who else basically spills their blood on their blog by making fun of all their faults and failures and insecurities??  WAIT…

Victoria Sawyer = Faker

Now I’ve gotten derailed.  You know what…if being confident means not being honest…then fuck that shit!  I’d rather be authentic than fucking full of myself.  Because this blog has always been about honesty and I guess that’s more important to me than fucking polished perfect writing.  This is not a goddamned fake-I’m-trying-too-hard portfolio of my “professional” work.  It’s artwork, it’s personal, it’s ME.

Hmmm…how many time will I vacillate during this post?  How many times will I argue with myself about how I should fake being confident in order to “make it”?  Shit…I really prefer honesty.  I don’t like fake-shit.  I don’t like pretending to be something I’m not.  So yes…Amateur Hour has fucking arrived.  It’s goddamned amateur-o-clock!! But I’m the best goddamned amateur hour you’ll ever fucking see!!  That is…if you still have EYES after they’ve been exposed to my eye-melting, brain-farting (soiling) site.  THE DESIGN IS MELTING MY BRAIN!!!

Listen…guys…is this blog even remotely professional?  It’s writing…of course it is.  It’s like….words all lined up, jumbled together on a page.  That’s writing, right?  If you just throw words together, you are a writer.


Also if you put photos together with text in say Photoshop or InDesign, you might be a GRAPHIC DESIGNER.  (Just don’t declare it too widely unless you want someone to call you Amateur.  Gotta say though, Amateur Hour is dastardly fun.  There are NO rules mothafucka!)

If you sometimes post random shit to FB or Tweeter, YOU MIGHT BE INTO SOCIAL MEDIA.

Fucking labels.  (I guess this is a post with a high level of swearing.  I’m sort of fired up.)  Guess what, I’m going to SELF DECLARE right now that I am worthy.  I am a WRITER, the kind of writer I want to be.  I am a GRAPHIC DESIGNER, exactly how I want to be.  I AM INTO SOCIAL MEDIA and if people can’t recognize what I bring to the table, then fuck’em.

Victoria Sawyer = Writer, Graphic Designer, Social Media Enthusiast or Socialite

High Level of Swearing = Fired Up.

Fucking Labels.  Stupid fucking labels.   Stupid false-confident people.  Stupid business world.  Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.

Stupid Bullshit.

I can’t end this thing.







It’s over.

You can go now.

Bye…  ;)


The Super-Secret Secret to Corporate Success

Do you want to climb the corporate ladder?  It’s really less of a ladder because it’s not nearly as straight forward as a ladder, so maybe it’s most like a pick your own adventure?  Anyway, admit YOU want to navigate the chutes and ladders of corporate life?  Or most like the ladders and less of the chutes.  If this is true, you’re going to want to continue reading because I’m about to lay out exactly how YOU can climb the choose your own adventure corporate mountain andddd….you won’t even need hiking boots.  You can wear your slip on dress shoes!  That’s how easy it is.

And thus, I give you, the KEY to corporate success:

  • Screw Up, Move Up
  • Confidence will get you everything (even false or misplaced confidence) because eventually they’ll believe you are as capable as you say you are (more on this in another blog post)
  • Be pleasant, most of the time (except when you’re strongly opinionated and bitchy (arrogance is KEY!))
  • Keep telling everyone you’re ridiculously busy and they’ll believe you.  “Look how much Sarah gets done in a day!  She’s sooo busy!”  (She must be, she’s always complaining about it, right??)
  • Make sure your superiors think you are amazing.  Even if you have to make shit up!!

It’s all a bluffing game!  Part of me thinks it would be fun to thwart everyone by playing nasty at their own game.  But part of me shivers at the very idea of being false to get something or get ahead.  However being honest and nice has never gotten me anywhere!

What do you think?  Play the game or not?  Is this really how people get promoted in this world? Through deceit and game playing?  Or do these people do these things without even realizing they are doing it and thus become successful?!  Like the complainers and the falsely confident!  Is it a ploy or are they clueless???  I think perhaps it’s both!!

I’ll write more about confidence and getting ahead in a blog post soon!!  Stay tuned you false, evil, scraping, grasping, corporate ladder climbing, falsely confident, arrogant, extra busy, stressed out, complaining suck-up you!! HA!!

P.S. I totally pimped my blog and made it so overwhelming your head will reel!!  Drunkenly!  Spasmodically!  Careening like a fool down a hill on rollerskates!  OUT OF CONTROLLL!!!  It’s so busy, wild and colorful my eyes think we’ve done psychedelic drugs whenever I visit Angst Anarchy!!  I have to remind my eyes that we’ve done nothing of the sort…we’re just crazy.

Just FYI – Submarines

FYI – Submarines

Just an FYI that Mr. VS might have something to do with submarines existing in the world.  I just want to make that clear.  Also over the weekend while we were camping (more on that later) and were swimming in the lake, I climbed on Mr. VS’s back and said loudly…..DIVE DIVE DIVE!!!  AAAA—WOOOOOO—GAHHHH!!!! Just like he was a submarine.  Except I really didn’t want him to dive because then my face would have melted off and my hair would have been more of a disaster than it already was.

Ok….That is all.  Your daily, FYI.  Or TMI.  Or YOLO moment.  Brought to you by….Angst and the words…”craziest bitch ever” and by the US Navy and Submarines that lurk beneath the sea going bong….bong….bong….bong (that’s their sonar or some such shit like that).

Sanctioning Cat Fights: Bitey and the Gentleman

My husband claims that I am promoting cat fights.  And not just promoting, but organizing, advertising and preparing the combatants. He is wrong, of course.  I’m doing nothing of the sort, because animal fights are inhumane. (weird how human is a part of the word inhumane but it can apply to many species??  We are soooo conceited!!)

Anyway, the truth is that my goal was to get a friend for my long suffering Bitey.  Or actually, I hoped to relieve myself because Bitey is sooo bitey and rambunctious.  Everyone had been saying for months, BITEY NEEDS A FRIEND!!  So I was finally, like…fine, I’ll do it.  I’ll just go on down to the shelter and pick out a friend for my sweet evil little Bitey.  I was intent upon finding a girl cat, but alas the one who stole my heart was a boy tiger cat.  Opps.  So I brought him home.

First off, when I sent a picture of the new cat, Mr. Victoria Sawyer said that the cat looked cranky and he didn’t want him.  Ridic.  And also he claimed he had never really expressly said I could have another cat, but I did that shit anyway, cause that’s how marriage works.  Besides, I had been mentioning it as a desire for a few days and he had never forbade me…so clearly that’s permission.

As soon as I got home, Mr. Victoria Sawyer declared that he is the beast-namer in our house and he would name this new beast.  The cat’s name at the shelter was Chanel.  Really?  For a boy cat.  So obviously that had to go.

If you can picture it, it was sort of like the Lion King when Mr. VS named our new cat.  Or you can imagine it like a knight getting dubbed Sir So and So.  Mr. VS said, I dub this beast The Gentleman.

(That’s not actually his name, however for all intents and purposes of this blog post, that’s his name.  And subsequent blog posts.  Because obviously Bitey is not really my other cats name either.  Although you probably thought I really would name a cat Bitey.  What am I, crazy?  Don’t answer that.  Anyway….I can’t reveal the TRUE identity of my kittens because then all you bank account hackers would hack into my accounts once you got all this personal information from me.  Evil hackers!  I won’t tell you my passwords!  What am I, a dummy?  Would I really use my cats names as my passwords?  Isn’t that like numero uno on the list of things NOT to do?  hahaha. YOU’LL NEVER KNOWWW!!!  I love having secrets!! Just to annoy you hackers!!)

I digress, yet again.  You are so long suffering, Angst readers!  Now we have two cats:  Bitey and the Gentleman.  Once they were introduced to each other it was clear that Bitey was not happy.  He was very very hissy and growly.  The growl was particularly low and throaty sounding and he was also backing away post haste.  And at first The Gentleman was a true Gentleman and didn’t do a damn thing to Bitey. He just sat there and looked at him, like…really buddy?  really?  He was a true gentleman.  Also, when interacting with Mr. VS he actually jumped OVER the laptop keyboard instead of walking or laying directly on it as Bitey is wont to do and Mr. VS was impressed by his manners.

So…we’ve had the Gentleman for a few weeks now and there has been no progress on friend making between the two cats.  There are only occasional cat fights that I have apparently arranged to disrupt the peace and quiet of our household.  There is now STRESS where there was none.  So instead of getting Bitey a friend to play with, I have brought him an enemy combatant.

AND AND!!!  Come to find out The Gentleman had the kitten cough or kennel cough and so had to get on antibiotics.  This kitten upper respiratory infection was apparently making him more gentlemanly and docile because as soon as the antibiotics went to work, the Gentleman started getting attacky and chasey.  The Gentleman now believes that he is our one true cat and Bitey is an interloper on the scene who must be hunted down like prey.

Why, oh why?  Why have I done this to myself? I’ve caused strive!!  Why can’t CATS GET ALONG!!  Also, why can’t I speak to them?  It’s so frustrating that I can’t just say to Bitey, “Listen buddy, just give him hell one time and he’ll leave you alone!”  But no, I cannot communicate this message to Bitey and so he continues to run away and be scared and lets The Gentleman think he’s got the upper hand.  BAH!!

Literally, I can jump in a rosebush and come out smelling like…sh….!

It’s true.

Also a few words on the Gentleman.  He’s a dope cat.  He’s a super extra slut for love.  He loves love.  Also he’s very talkative.  Kind of like me.  He just walks around the house, meowing and meowing for no apparent reason except to get our attention or to annoy us or to get love and the funny this is that I do the EXACT same thing to MR. VS!  I never shut the fuck up!!  I am constantly babbling, particularly if Mr. VS is ignoring me….I will continue to just babble and babble and annoy him to the ends of the earth!  And he is really good at ignoring me which is when I have to use alternate tactics since he’s learned to tune out the sound of my annoying voice.

Another thing about cats and husbands is that they are similar because just as cats can get too over stimulated by too much petting, so too can husbands!  It’s like both groups can sense the INTENT of the touch.  Like sometimes my touches are filled with hate instead of love and when I say hate, I mean annoyance or teasing.  BOTH groups can tell!  Mr. VS gets very cranky when I keep touching him and bugging him to get his attention, so too do the cats get cranky when I keep petting them after they’ve had their fill.

The Gentleman has taken to opening his fanged mouth as wide as he can and slowly inserting a large portion of my flesh therein (which is different from Bitey’s lightning fast strikes of claws and teeth).  Then he clamps down, very gently, just to let me know he’s had enough.  Mr. VS declared the other day that he would start doing the same when I annoy him.  It’s like I really have THREE cats in the house.  And Mr. VS refuses to admit that he has cats.  He says, I have cats, meaning me and not him.  So yes, I have 3 cats.  All males.  And all mark their territory.  HAHAHA.

As you might remember from this post where I told you about annoying the shit out of my brother as a child, I still do that now to Mr. VS!!  It’s transferred and also I’m still the same person as I was as a child!!  I’m the worst!  I thrive on annoying people.  Like if Mr. VS is sitting there innocently intent upon his laptop (which he is ALWAYS doing) I will just keep blabbing to get his attention (because clearly all attention should always be on the star of everything, me) but Mr. VS is adept at continuing to look at the computer and not at me.  So then I have to sit next to him and rub his neck or his arm or his hair and just generally annoy him.  It’s sooo much fun.

Also it’s fun when I’m feeling WILD or on a sugar high, like full of energy, to touch him because he can tell that I’m like vibrating with pent up energy.  He can tell the touch is hateful even when I try to mask it with love and gentleness!! It’s like I need to work out or run around to get the energy out, but I of course lately refuse to do that because I’m a lazy sack of shit.  It’s especially fun to give Mr. VS touches full of hate when he’s tired or being a cranky pants.  Don’t you wish you were married to me?  The truth is that I am giving Mr. VS some serious life skills.  I’m coaching him to handle ANYTHING.  He could survive the Amazon now.  The jungle would be nothing to him.

I guess that’s enough about husbands and cats for one day.  I have to head down into the house to spend some time reffing a cat fight.  Busy busy!!  And also of course I have to fit some time in my day to annoy my cats.  All THREE of them. It’s where I get all my power for evil, from annoying them all!  BAHAHAHAHA!!

Also…post script…can these cats please stop?  Can’t we all be friends?  The strife within the house is TOO MUCH!!  I’m going to have to resort to DRASTIC measures.  And we know that I can’t take any cats back to the shelter, including Mr. VS.  That just wouldn’t do.  HELPPPP!!!


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