Thursday, December 10, 2009
There, now you're getting it. Came across this story a while back and had to save it. You know me and strange animal stories, it's like a fetish or something. Although if I had dangly parts I wouldn't be sticking something down there that could take a chunk out of it.
t's one thing for shoplifters to hide plunder in their pants. But a live ferret? Police said a homeless man in north Florida did just that. And he made it out the door before being challenged.
A 17-year-old witness confronted (the homeless man) in the parking lot and was bitten by the animal after the man allegedly shoved it in the teen's face.
That confrontation makes the ferret a "special weapon" under Florida law. So (homeless man) also faces battery charges for dangerously wielding the animal.
See what I mean! It bit that kids FACE. And what the fuck does a homeless guy need with a ferret anyway?
And think about the whole "special weapon" thing the next time you taunt a woman with your trouser snake.
(Authors note: Do not start lecturing me on the differences between weasels and ferrets. I'm on my 4th glass of wine and weasel just seemed to flow better.)
P.S. Brian Kelly, enjoy the money because you've kissed off all hopes of another winning season!!
Monday, December 7, 2009
I haven’t even started my Christmas cards. I have gifts that need wrapped. Which, at work we “adopted” a nearby school that 90 some percent of the kids families are living at or below poverty level (and that was before the economy tanked.) I have to have that gift wrapped and delivered by Monday. So I might as well wrap the whole pile while I have all the paper and ribbons and shit out. I still have 4 gift cards I need to buy. I need to make 11 pounds of fudge, 3 batches of caramel corn (I used to make popcorn balls, but I can’t get the damn things to come out right since I got my flat top stove), 4 batches of no-bake cookies AND buy containers to pack all that shit in. Not to mention the crap I need to make to take to various holiday parties over the next several weeks. You’re probably wondering why I have to make all this stuff. Between my mom, my sister and my MIL you’d think one of them could figure some of these recipes out. But nooooo, they tell me my fudge is the creamiest, my no-bake cookies are the awesome-ist (which is true) and my caramel corn is just like grandpa used to make. They can never get it to taste as good as mine. Since this is the only flattery I get my head swells so big that I can't think straight and once again I get suckered into making it all.
Also happening this week, my dad has a birthday. He’s still telling everyone he’ll be 39, but really he’s turning 60. So we’re all supposed to go out to dinner Saturday. And I still haven’t found the perfect birthday card. My 18 year old nephew flew in from Oklahoma for a visit and is staying with my parents – but he’ll probably end up here a couple of nights this week. My 12 year wedding anniversary is also this weekend. There was an argument on Sunday that put that milesonte in serious jeopardy. I got in my car and drove 35 minutes to my parent’s house for a visit and still had steam coming out of my ears when I got there.
What with everything that I’ve got going on I said fuck decorating. That’s right. Get over it people. And (spoiler alert) there’s no Santa Claus anyway and I don’t have kids to appreciate the effort. It’s not that I don’t have decorations. I have a whole shitload of decorations. What I don’t have is the time or motivation to dig them all out and set them up. And don’t even get me started on the putting away of the decorations.
Now that I’ve set the background for you, you can understand on Sunday when my mom asked “Do you want a Christmas village set?” why I went a little bonkers. At some point during my tirade of “Are you freakin’ kidding me? Hell no, I don’t want any damn Christmas village! Why does everyone have to get on my ass about not decorating?” Around this time I realized the look on my mom’s face was reminiscent of that time I got caught smoking in the bathroom at school. So I quickly ended with “Oh, but thanks for asking.” Good save, right?
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Seems like everything's getting better. Well, except the weather. And I really can't gripe too much. It's been so warm around here though that it doesn't even seem like Christmas is just around the corner. I will wait until the day after Christmas before I start griping about snow. Maybe.
So, Bestie was trying to get one of those HP laptops that Walmart had on sale. Of course, they probably only had 5 so she didn't manage to get one on Black Friday. Then she tried to buy one on-line (price went up) but they were out of them. Being that I get a discount on computers I told her I'd see what kind of deal I could get her. I swear I've spent 16 hours going through different configurations and sending them to her. I think she's finally settled on one, and I know I'll have to go over and help her set it up. But that's ok, she does a ton of stuff for me so that isn't the real problem.
See, this made me finally get off the fence and order MYSELF a new laptop. And a netbook. So the Captain and I won't be fighting over the crappy laptop he hogs all the time. Should be a good thing, right? But nooooo, now I have to do something about the electronics that seem to be multiplying like rabbits around here. It's going well as I'm sure you can tell by the fact that I'm writing a blog post instead of actually copying files off the 9 year old desktop onto this one.
I don't know what my problem is, but I just keep putting this off. I'm fairly certain that it's been over a year since I turned the damn thing on. I even bought a 1TB external drive to make it easier but I'd rather someone just poke me in the eye with a sharp stick.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Things that suck about your dog having cancer
• Restraining myself from kicking the vet in the balls when he recommends that I skip the three pack and only buy heartworm treatment a month at a time now
• The steroid treatment that makes him drink, drink, drink and pee, pee, pee – so much for a good night’s sleep or working through lunch
• Listening to him whimper and watching him tremble when we pull into the vet’s lot
• Forget the cost of treatment, how bad is my bank account hurting from constantly buying him new toys and treats
• Realizing we’re both eating like pigs and he’s losing weight, but I’m not
• Wondering how long it will take before I can talk about it without crying
• Realizing that the funky tasting beef jerky we’re sharing expired two months ago, and I’m the one that should have known better than to eat it anyway
• Dealing with non-dog people who just don’t get it
• When we’re doing stuff together, figuring out how not to think about not being together to do those things anymore –
o like racing to and from the garage to carry in groceries
o pulling out household items from the shopping bags one at a time and letting him sniff them until I “finally” get to, ta-da, a new toy!
o the wrestling match that ensues to keep him from scaring the bejeepers out of the pizza delivery man
• repeatedly poking and prodding him to move so I can get into bed, then appreciating that my spot’s all warmed up
• Facing that I might lose one of my best friends way sooner than I thought
Friday, November 20, 2009
Things it sucks to have to do with your non-dominant hand (due to surgery on the “good” one – which if it was that good it wouldn’t have needed surgery, now would it???)
• Opening anything – this includes bottles of vicodin, bags of chips, bottles of beer
• Brushing or flossing your teeth
• Anything to do with below-shoulder-length hair
• Tying shoes
• Fastening a bra – or pants
• Trying to hold an umbrella and smoke at the same time - thanks for finally sending some rain this way, beeyotch!
• Turning the ignition of your car - thankfully my current car isn’t a stick shift
• Cutting yourself a piece of chocolate ice-cream cake your BFF was kind enough to contribute to your recovery
• Cleaning – ok, I know that cleaning always sucks but do you know how many square inches of scrubbing you can do before your non-dom arm feels like a rubber band??
• Filling in paper work at the physical therapists office. Seriously people?!
• Folding laundry
• Carrying something into a dark room - no, finding and flipping light switches with my nose is not on my skills list
• Inserting feminine hygiene products - ‘nuff said
Friday, October 30, 2009
Back on topic. So, my sister sent me an obnoxious text of a guy with a mask on his lap and his male member sticking out, sort of wiggling around. Happy Halloweenie! it declared. I guffawed. I was going to share it, but then I downloaded an update to my phone Wednesday and the message went poof. Dammit.
I know what you're thinking - it's Friday so Hoodchick's obviously composing one of her drunk posts. You're right of course. But here's the thing - last Friday got a little wild, so tonight I'm sipping some pinot noir, nibbling some cheese and crackers, and catching up on my blog reading. How bad could last Friday have been? Let's just say that Bestie and I should not be allowed to do shots together. Ever. Again. Especially after her birthday party over the summer (hey, your BFF only turns 31 once, right?) Anyway, so last Friday it was amazing enough that we got the hubs to go out, but at some point someone mentioned titty bars. There's still a very heated debate about who that someone was. And someone else (cough cough) was hammered enough to say "I've never been to a titty bar." The rest, as they say, is history. Bestie's lucky, her memory of the night is a lot spottier than mine.
So, with the temperature up in the 80 degree (F) area - Bestie and I took the dogs out for a hike and then I came home to chill. Tomorrow's errand day, then trick-or-treat for the kiddies. I bought a big 120 piece bag of mixed candy bars. Captain Clueless is telling the dog that I better give away the crappy stuff first.
"Like what?" I asked.
"The Almond Joys."
"Hey! I like the Almond Joys."
"Yeah, but you don't need them."
A sudden end to indian summer.
Monday, October 19, 2009
So, exercise it is. I’m getting a little tired of the same old music on the iPod and decided to hit iTunes for some new stuff. Looking for upbeat, dance type music that will motivate me to get off my ass. Have you heard the crap passing for music these days? Let’s just take a peek at the top of the charts.
1 – Miley Cyrus. Nuff said.
2 – Fireflies. Lyrics (I kid you not): Cause I get a thousand hugs from ten thousand lightning bugs as they try to teach me how to dance.
This is worse than the shitty music on the hybrid car commercials (you know, with people as the landscape.)
3 – Meet Me Halfway. I dig the Peas, but this is a bit mellow.
4 – 3. No, that’s not a mistake on my numbering. Britney couldn’t come up with a better name or lyrics for that matter.
5 – Whatcha Say. Whatcha say, whatcha say, whatcha say. I say your song sucks.
6 – Down. Ok, slow pathetically sappy rap song. Next…
7 – Replay. No idea what in the hell this guy is saying. Techno Jamaican music maybe?
8 – Paparazzi. I’ve got some GaGa. Even if I didn’t think this song sucked, her performances would have made me hate it. Creeee-py.
9 – I Gotta Feeling. Still not feeling it from this song, and it’s pretty overplayed overplayed overplayed (and repetitive.)
10 – Who Says. Seriously, John Fucking Mayer?
Don’t even get me started on the Top 10 Videos. I get the Justin Bierber shit, because you people give your kids way too much allowance. But have you seen the video for She Wolf? What the fuck? It’s like a horrible half naked mime show or something.
Oh yeah, and if you’re going to redo a song like ‘Should I stay or should I go’, it shouldn’t suck.
Screw it, I’m going to finish off those donuts.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
ANDOVER, Mass.— A Boston suburb has some new landscapers that will work for food _ a half-dozen goats clearing and maintaining an overgrown public meadow.
Under a pilot program in Andover, Lucy McKain's dairy goats will rotate their grazing around the meadow for an all-you-can-eat buffet of grass, brush and other growth. The goats can clear as much as a half acre every three days at no cost.
The fact it's free is important to Andover officials, since money is tight and they couldn't afford the heavy equipment, fuel and labor needed to clean up the meadow. Plus, goat landscaping is environmentally friendly.
If the program is a success, Andover officials want to make more public parkland available to other grazing animals.
And I thought that the geese shit in all the parks close to my house is bad...
Monday, October 12, 2009
I had to keep a straight face while this was sitting on the edge of the doctor's desk as he was reviewing the medical history:
Of course a nurse walked in and caught me taking that picture. What kind of freak does she think I am! Captain Clueless said he was surprised I didn't pop into the exam room and snap a shot of him getting probed. Jesh, I have some boundaries.
Aren't you glad I'm back?
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Ok, follow up on the babysitting. Parents, really - on a Friday night DO NOT trick a beer guzzling aunt into babysitting the VERY NEXT MORNING. Especially if she starts out dinner at a place with $2 22oz drafts (which I know draft beer makes me feel like shit the next day but they're only TWO DOLLARS!) and (per your instructions) brings a 12 pack over for a visit. Thankfully Bestie decided she was bored Saturday morning and helped me out. She picked up Mini J and by the time they got to my house I'd recovered enough to sit up without feeling the urge to hurl.
For a 2 year old he was pretty good. When he got too bored from chasing the dog around the house and whining about not being allowed to play by the pool, we took him and the dog down to the bike path and a rocky "beach" area on the river. Bestie tried to show him how to skip rocks so keeping him from hitting the dog was fun. We even managed to keep him from falling in. LMP finished her work and we all headed to Chick-Fil-A to meet for lunch where Mini J transformed into demon spawn.
All three adults spent most of the time trying to bribe, cajole and threaten him into eating at least one chicken nugget. He just kept nibbling on the big waffle style fries. LMP told him to eat or he couldn't go to the play area. So then the little brat gets ME into trouble because he picks up one of those big ass fries with both hands and procedes to stuff the entire thing in his mouth. It was funny. I started snickering and LMP shoots me one of those looks. You know The Mom look. Clearly, she needs to lower her expectations. Of me, not her two year old.
Next up, adventures in potty training and dog introductions (but I'm not promising when!)
Friday, June 12, 2009
How many kinds of dumb am I? This is the kid that showed up at the ball park Tuesday night without a having taken a nap all day. We walked up to the concession stand to get suckers & to wear him out. Ha! The only suckers were us. He threw a huge tantrum on the way back and kicked his ball towards the parking lot. Then kicked it again. And a third time, into the lot. Under a car. And went after it. With LMP telling him not to do it all the way. To Bestie I muttered - oh that kid would so get an ass whippin'. LMP retrieved the ball and dragged her progeny back to the diamonds, kicking and screaming the whole way.
Later, when he's in his chair in "time out" there are other kids running around playing. He sniffles.
Mini-J: "I want to go play with him." (everyone is "him" or "her" if Mini-J doesn't know their name.) No response from anyone
Mini-J: "Mommy, I want to go play with him!" Still no response from anyone
Mini-J: "I sorry"
Hoodchick: "That sounded very sincere." about 20 seconds go by
Mini-J: "*sniffle, sniffle* Mommy, I sssorry"
Mini-J: "It's not funny!"
Hoodchick: "Oh, but it is. What isn't funny is the tantrum you threw earlier."
What is it about 2 year olds that they have to rely on tears to win a fight?
If he wasn't so darn cute I'd have been able to say NO WAY IN HELL!!!
For those of you busting on my Justin Timberlake love, I leave you this (which is really, really funny if you're up on popular music and in a country that allows you to view this. Seriously, I laughed so hard I farted. Wait a minute, I didn't say that. It was the DOG that farted. Really. Would I lie about something like that?)
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
If you didn't catch Motherlover you really missed out. But being the kind of friend I am, I included it for those of you that need a good laugh.
Oh yes, and I survived Besties wedding. I'm working on some creative photo editing, but some lazy ass bitches are taking forever to get me copies of their pictures (yeah, I'm talking to you LMP!)
Monday, June 1, 2009
Why don't I go on vacation? Because we don't want to kennel the dog. I'm not going into all the reasons and details, but sometimes life with a 120 pound dog (who hates other dogs with the exception of my in-laws Rott) can be a challenge. So the summer before last I decided that if I wasn't going to a place with a beach or pool then By God I was bringing a pool to myself.
Last weeks list of activities went something like this:
Lay by pool
Clean house (only because company was coming and saying "clean house" is really a lie - it was more like clean kitchen, bath and living rooms and shut all the other doors.)
Drink by pool with friends
Lay on float in pool nursing hangover
See a softball game
Drink by pool (alone. Which is NOT a sign of alcoholism because it was by a pool.)
Meet friends for lunch
Float in pool
See a softball game - this one is notable because there was a BEER TRUCK!
Accidentally sleep until 11am
Weed a flower bed
Recuperate by floating in pool with a drink
Ok, there were also dog walks most mornings - early because for some reason it was already 80 friggin degrees around here last week.
Needless to say, going back to work this morning sucked. Big time. First I had to get out of bed before the sun came up. Then I had to deal with the *deep, calming breath allowing me to not type a string of swear words here* construction zone traffic.
And when I get to the
My poor brain was in so much shock I forgot to take pictures of it before I started the clean up. The thing that almost sent me over the edge was seeing my poor tube of chapstick mummified by all those layers of plastic. Plaaaastic *just went back into vacation land remembering the smell of the new plastic floats*
Monday, May 18, 2009
For example, there was a great post titled ‘What a Bitch!’ about a police department that was considering laying off one of its canine cops due to the economy. See, they have two K9’s. The one under consideration for getting the axe is the older, female employee. The younger male would be retained. That bitch needs a lawyer! Sex and age discrimination all in one so they can save a lousy $16,000 per year (estimated upkeep, cause you know they ain’t actually paying her shit! Wait a minute, my dog is a spoiled baby and seems to need something surgical at least every other year and he doesn't cost that much. Obviously someone is scamming these dogs out of their hard earned kibble.) I guess it is a dog-eat-dog world. Hahaha. Maybe we should send them Donn’s recent post, I’m sure they’ll reconsider their choice.
Oh, and then there was the post about the ‘The Depression is Over!’ I’ve gotten two, yes, count ‘em, TWO credit card offers in the mail the past few days. I’m telling you, it’s a sign. By the Fourth of July we’ll all be cruising in shiny Hummers, fishing around in our new Coach bags for once again disdained pennies to toss at hookers. Not that I’ve ever tossed pennies at hookers. Seriously, don’t go telling stories on me.
And the really funny post called ‘Thanks for Making Me Look Like a Big Fat Cow!’ about a recent shopping trip with Captain Clueless. I know the men will take his side, good intentions and all that. But I am never taking that man clothes shopping with me again. Half the shirts he picked out were borderline too tight to start out with. He was getting upset because I wouldn’t buy anything he picked out, so I had to. Does he have an image stuck in his head of me 10 years younger and 20 pounds lighter or what? Has he even looked at me in the last 5 years? We get home and I put one of the shirts so he could see the issue. Mmm, look how it hugs that fat roll. Verrry attractive. I think this shirt needs to go back. And what does he say? IT LOOKS FINE. I kid you not. This man actually would let me leave the house that way. Good thing the economy is picking up so I can afford a divorce lawyer.
I’m not making any promises about posting frequency, but I’ll try to be better. I knew the warm weather would make things tough, but I’m even getting hate mail from the library about my books being overdue. I’m sorry, but they are NOT getting Nuclear Jellyfish back until I squeak out enough time to read it. The good news is that I have lots going on that should provide plenty of entertainment. I have a new critter living in the back yard – the dog hasn’t located and crushed him yet. I bought a new bike to work on the fat roll so maybe I can fit in one of those shirts eventually (hey, a bike was cheaper than an attorney.) Keep in mind that me and coordination have a love/hate relationship. And I'm combining diet pills with Vitamin water which may or may not have anything to do with this whacked out post. Lastly, the wedding is coming up on 6/6/09. That’s the first time I actually paid attention to the date that way. Hmm, six sixty niner! Ok, time to take my inner teenage boy off to fold laundry.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
The colors for the upcoming
I dragged Little Miss Perfect out to a *ah-hem* "novelty" store to shop for an appropriate bachelorette offering. I found the most perfect, color coordinated gift EVER!
Sunday, April 26, 2009
With all that going on, there wasn't a lot of personal attention on your special day. How I managed to marry a guy whose birthday is the day after mine is a mystery. Plus his dad's birthday, and his brother's (40 this year!) all in the latter part of the month.
So mid-April through the end is a never ending whirlwind of dinners, lunches, cakes, cupcakes, ice cream and even donuts. To top all this off, the big bang this year is a bachlorette party Saturday night.
And what follows April? Swim suit season. Arrrgh!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
So on that note, here's another amusing story from the AP:
...23-year-old Frasure was convicted of felony theft in 2008 and recently released from prison.
During the hearing, Frasure made repeated outbursts and ignored the judge's orders to refrain from interrupting the court. The judge then ordered bailiffs to silence Frasure.
The Idaho State Journal reported that bailiffs found a roll of duct tape, tore off a piece and put it over his mouth.
Now that I know this is an acceptable solution I'm going to have to get a holster and quick dispenser for my duct tape.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Police arrested a 38-year-old man who allegedly stole a forklift on Wednesday morning and hit a street sign and a telephone pole during a slow joyride. The man is due in court next month. Authorities said after the vehicle ran out of gas, the man sought treatment at a local hospital for alcohol and drug intoxication.
He was charged with with possession of a stolen vehicle and theft over $10,000.
Police also said he had no proof of insurance and his driver's license had expired.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Then I look through all the coupon fliers, and they end up pissing me off. Why are the coupons for families of 8? What are my husband and I supposed to do with an extra large specialty pizza and a medium (but it's only .99!) plus dessert? There's two of us, and we don't manage to finish up a medium pie even with help from the dog. And what the hell would I do with a 15 piece bucket of chicken, I wonder?
Now I get down to sorting letters. How many places are still sending you "free" gifts and a guilt trip? Oh yes, dear ASPCA - I admire what you do. And I'll send you another check as soon as you remove my name from all the other lists you sold me out to. I can't save every creature and I don't want to see any more sad faced polar bears, mountain lions, lemurs or koala's.
One good thing has come out of this shitty economy, there's not a single credit card offer in the whole pile.
Any other positives? My husband's IRA actually made money this past month. AND I have a birthday coming up so most of my favorite stores are sending me $10 gift cards or coupons. I'm not thrilled about the birthday - I've tried to give them up ever since 30 rolled around - but I've got a major shopping jones building up.
Now, where was I? Oh yeah, headlines. I came across this story in my attempts to do anything besides deal with the mail:
Police say a man posing as a waiter collected $186 in cash from diners at two restaurants in New Jersey and walked out with the money in his pocket.
Diners described the bogus waiter as a spikey-haired 20-something wearing a dark blue or black button-down shirt, yellow tie and khaki pants.
Police say he approached two women dining at Hobson's Choice in Hoboken, N.J. around 7:20 p.m. on Thursday. He asked if they needed anything else before paying. They said no and handed him $90 in cash.
About two hours later he approached three women dining at Margherita's Pizza and Cafe. He asked if they were ready to pay, took $96 and never returned with their change.
Wow! This generation gets so much bad press - a bunch of texting, video gaming, whining slackers. This kid has it going on. Initiative, creativity, dressing for success. I just hope he used part of the money to pay the back rent he owed his mom.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
During one of our weekly grocery excursions he asks me about juice. The kind that helps you ‘stay regular.’ I said he was probably thinking of prune juice or something like that. We head down the juice aisle and he starts looking at labels. This is the guy whose entire fruit intake was a daily shot of Sunny Delight when we got married, and he thought he was getting actual vitamins from it. It took me 2 years to switch him from 5% crap to 100% actual orange juice. Sighing, I start looking at prices and...
(slightly out of focus, dreamy replay) Hoodchick’s at the kitchen counter preparing holiday goodies. Captain Clueless walks into the room.
CC: What’s that smell? (makes a face as if he just checked the bottom of his shoe and discovered he stepped in dog shit)
HC: (Sniffing the air) What smell? I don’t smell anything.
CC: You can’t smell that? It’s horrible! Like death.
HC: You’re on crack, there’s no smell. Wait a minute, is this what you’re talking about? (holds strainer full of crushed pineapple near him)
CC: Yes, that’s it! That’s disgusting.
HC: You’ve. Never. Had. Pineapple. Seriously, just get out of my kitchen.
Cut to summertime, Hoodchick’s sitting at the table digging into a slice of watermelon. Enter the scurvy husband.
CC: Eating your watermelon huh.
CC: What’s it taste like?
HC: (Slightly choking) Are you telling me you’ve never had watermelon?
HC: Sigh. (How to explain the taste of watermelon? It’s sweet and juicy and a little slice of heaven on a sweltering day.) Try some.
CC: (Takes bite. Makes face like he’s just bitten into a Sulphur Bertie Bott Jelly Bean, starts searching for a place to spit it out.) Ewww!
I’m the first to admit that I don’t love every fruit ever grown, but I do love me a lotta them. I kind of figured it goes back to the baby stage. Everyone knows the jars of peaches, tutti fruiti, bananas and pears were the best. Spoon up some peas or green beans to a tot and you’d better have an apron on because you’re likely going to get it back. So I’m trying to figure out, what the hell did his mom feed him as a baby? Tiny jars of sausage gravy? Pureed pork chops?
Back to reality and the grocery store. He settles on a bottle of prune juice. The label screams things like "For Digestive Help" and "Extra with fiber." Sure, I could have warned him but really, after the flashbacks I figured he'd taste it and never touch it again.
So, the juice makes it home, gets put in the fridge and forgotten until the other evening. He gets it out and reads the label, “Drink 8oz 4-5 times a week.” He gets a glass and pours some “Is this 8 ounces?” I shrug even though it looks like a lot more to me. (One thing you should know about me, I can’t eyeball measure stuff. Is that board 8 feet or 10 feet long? Don’t ask me. I always use measuring spoons and cups. Tape measures. Odometers. And he KNOWS this, but still asks me shit like this.) So, he drinks. I wait. No yucky face, just a thoughtful “That’s not bad.”
Fast forward to the following evening. I get home from work. Captain Clueless tells me “Well, that stuff works. This morning I got to work and it was like” making faces like he can’t figure out the right word, eventually settles on “explosive.”
Sorry honey, that was sympathetic laughter that exploded from me.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
We started out with the setup. A little background, I am clumsy as hell. I'm always running into things, falling down, and constantly have bruises but no clue where they came from - and this is sober! Another thing, I have a job where I sit on my arse all day and I've been lax about exercising beyond walking the dog. So I figured I was pretty much going to be screwed on this thing.
I went first, and did a surprisingly good job on the balance test. It said my BMI was in normal range (?). Then it gave me my Wii age (which, if you don't know is what everyone is bitching about, google it and you'll get about 123 million results.) Mine was -1 from my real age! Woo-hoo!
Next up, Captain Clueless. His background, he has a somewhat phsyical job and he plays softball in the spring, summer and fall. In the winter they go to an indoor place and hit a couple times a month. Also, we're the same age. Ok, I'm a day older. I know, cradle robber. It came back with his BMI being too high, and plumped his Mii out. His age? (Drumroll) +17! Man was he pissed to be in his 50s.
Then he starts bitching that he's really 6', not the 5'11" that I put in for him (which is horseshit) and that he's in way better shape than me and the thing's a piece of crap, blah, blah, blah.
We did the Yoga and Strength Training sets to start out. Our rankings came out about even (I completely sucked at the tree pose, and tried to cheat on the push-up plank thing.) Regardless, the work out kicked both of our asses. I really expected it to be cheesy, but I was out of breath and today I'm sore. I guess that means it works. The bad thing is you have to use it one at a time. But I hope he sticks with it with me, I think the Yoga moves will help with his bad back.
Could be worse I guess. I expected to have the dream/nightmare problems but so far none of that. The worse is the naseau (which comes and goes,) gas and bloating. I'm trying to eat smaller meals so the bloating isn't as bad but there have been a couple of days where I could barely button my pants and I felt like I'd explode if someone stuck a pin in my belly. I ate a 6" subway sandwich and a 100 calorie bag of Cheese-its and I felt like I'd just gorged Thanksgiving style.
Monday, April 6, 2009
posting app but can't get registered yet. If I was stuck at
The doctor or something this might be cool,but I'm at home so
Using this tiny keyboard sucks. Don't start on me about the capitalization
issues,I haven't figured out cursor placement yet. I hate you Time Warner!!!
Friday, April 3, 2009
I've officially done more work helping my friend with her wedding preperation than I spent on my own. Which isn't saying much because my mom and sister did most of the work for mine. If it had been up to me we'd have had immediate family and a preacher. But NOOOO they wanted a church wedding so I figured they could damn well deal with it.
About the most interesting thing is that I'm on day 2 of my Chantix prescription. I had it sitting around for a while, but didn't want to start taking it while I was still suffering through the virus from hell. Then I made the mistake of googling Chantix side effects and it scared the crap out of me. Go ahead and check it out, I'll wait.
Am I right? Lawsuits, depression, nightmares - the list goes on and on.
So far I have the nausea and sleeplessness. My doc recommended I wait until being on it for 2 weeks before I quit smoking. So the countdown begins. This should be fun, and I'm totally blaming any craziness that goes on here on the meds.
Monday, March 23, 2009
While it is admirable that you proactively adjust my insurance rates, I can't help but wonder if you should instead use the money to include a small packet of lube with my next statement.
I may not be Einstein, but giving me a savings of .25 and then charging me 1.00 service fee for making the policy change does not quite add up. Sure, next month I might save that 25 cents again, but I am onto you. I'm sure in May you will save me some additional negligible amount and charge me yet another $1 for that adjustment. I really don't have the time or energy to call you to fix your fucked up shit. Stop it already.
Violated in Ohio
Friday, March 20, 2009
Everyone knows that when you remove hair – especially down there – you have a risk of ingrown hairs, rashes, and who knows what else. Any woman that goes in to get her who-ha waxed and expects not to suffer probably deserves what she gets.
The fact that the State Board of Cosmetology is considering a ban, after just 2 complaints seems a little fishy (I know, I said fishy, hahaha!) Can you imagine being in a salon, all spread eagled with those strips pressed against your privates when SWAT bursts in during a raid? How humiliating. If they think the original law suits were bad, wait until a personal injury lawyer gets a hold of this.
Brazilian junkies will be traveling to neighboring states to get their anti-bush fix. Who does that help? Not the New Jersey business owners. Will the police start patrolling the Jersey shore looking for ladies with bikini bottoms that lie just a little too flat?
5 0: “Excuse me ma’am, are you a resident of the state?”
NJ Broad: “What’s it fuckin’ ta ya asshole?”
5 0: “Obviously you are. It’s come to our attention that you may be just a little too smooth down there. We’ll need you to come with us.”
I’m sure this is just the beginning. First, they’ll outlaw bush waxing. Next will come a ban on flat irons. I mean, how many ladies are getting burns that lead to infections from those damn things. Then, do you know how many people have scalp burns from the harsh chemicals in those hair straightening kits? It all sounds like a conspiracy to regain their big hair title.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Let me say now that I filled mine out on my own time, at home and on my own computer. I’m not judging those that did theirs on the clock or on their employer’s equipment, just saying that I did not.
I had heard that Barack (hey – I voted for him so I figure that puts us on a first name basis) was going to fill out a bracket on the air on ESPN. I thought this was pretty cool, that we have a president hip enough to care about March Madness and fun enough to share his picks with the rest of us. His picks were bound to piss off some schools which would have been enough to keep a lesser man mum on the subject. Let’s face it though, only one team will win and the rest of them should just suck it up and stop with the whining already. I’m sure his picks weren’t any more personal (or prophetic) than the picks made by the thousands of “sports analysts” that have been going on and on about this for weeks. And it’s not like he threw in an 8 billion dollar bet on the outcome.
Being the keen observer of human nature that I am, I knew it would just be a matter before some curmudgeon put their foot in it. But even I was momentarily stunned when it came from Duke’s own Coach K. As soon as I heard it I knew the shit was going to hit the fan. Sure enough, message boards, blogs, even CNN is abuzz with the fallout from this comment:
"Somebody said that we're not in President Obama's Final Four, and as much as I respect what he's doing, really, the economy is something that he should focus on, probably more than the brackets," Krzyzewski told a reporter from the Associated Press on Wednesday.
What a brilliant insight. I’m sure that President Obama should be focused 24/7 on fixing all the fucked up problems in the US. Maybe he should budget a few grand for Depends so he doesn’t have to bother with pesky bathroom breaks. And he can be hooked up to some of those nutrition bags that deliver all your dietary needs intravenously so he won’t need time to eat. I mean, how dare he take a moment to do something frivolous that might give himself and some others 5 minutes of enjoyment.
This same thing happens in the work place. We recently had a bowling tournament between departments. At lunch time the groups went to the local alley and bowled against each other. It was fun. It was good for morale. But of course we had people who sat in their cubicles with their mouths screwed up so tight they looked like puckered assholes, saying things like “I can’t believe everyone is wasting their time bowling. There so much work that needs to be done.” I’m sorry, but you’re not so important that the entire company will implode if you’re not there for an hour and half. Hell, you don’t bother to drag your sorry ass into the office until 9:30 every day. We’re all salary. And we all bust our humps a hell of a lot more than 40 hours a week. We don’t need your stick-in-the-ass attitude. And we don’t need Coach K’s either.
Exactly what is Coach K doing to help this country? He’s an educated, wealthy man. But his entire life’s work is around coaching a FUCKING GAME. Maybe he should wake the fuck up and get a real job that actually does something to lift the US out of the giant shit hole it’s immersed in. Otherwise he should just shut his pie hole and keep enjoying his millions while the rest of us hard working Americans get ulcers about job security, crappy medical care and disappearing retirement funds. And hope we might win $50 on the outcome, because that $50 might mean we can buy groceries or diapers or medicine.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Daffy's by my porch
Buds on a tree with a robin
Mmmm. I grilled hamburgers today. I've moved straight from fevered to spring fevered!
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Here's the "cabin" that we stayed in. The weather was great, we got unseasonably warm temps in the 70's.
Here's the hot tub. Behind it you can see there's not much but trees. It wasn't really that secluded, there were houses close by in the other direction.
We had stopped at a Papa Murphy's and waited 25 minutes for a pizza (if you're not familiar, they make up your pizza and you take it home and bake it.) But when we got to the cabin there was NO OVEN. There was a convection oven, but the pizza was too big to fit in it. So we headed back into "town" to buy a cooked pizza and some other supplies.
This was a bar on the main drag through town. We never did find out exactly what this sign meant. Neither did we get to display our own dancing skills which surely would have gotten us run out of town.
None of my deer pictures came out very well, they blended in with the brown grass and brush so that you could barely make them out. But they were all over the place. We had pizza, brownies and wine and started a fire in the outdoor pit when a pair of glowing eyes came out of the woods and crashed the party. If you look close, you can see one of the eyes.
I didn't really think a possum or coon would come nosing that close to the fire and three gabbing women. I cleaned up the photo and you can make out that it's a little calico cat.
We put some pizza toppings out and she eventually warmed up to us and hung around on the deck while we hit the hot tub. (We assumed it was a she. We weren't rude enough to try to check out the goods.)
I know you're disappointed, but you're not getting a peek at any of the druken chicks in a hot tub photos. I did find it funny that when I got home I had received this joke from my mom (and no, we weren't naked:)
Three Ladies in a Sauna
THREE WOMEN, TWO YOUNGER, AND ONE SENIOR CITIZEN, WERE SITTING NAKED IN A SAUNA.
SUDDENLY THERE WAS A BEEPING SOUND. THE YOUNG WOMAN PRESSED HER FOREARM AND THE BEEP STOPPED.
THE OTHERS LOOKED AT HER QUESTIONINGLY. 'THAT WAS MY PAGER,' SHE SAID. I HAVE A MICROCHIP UNDER THE SKIN OF MY ARM.
A FEW MINUTES LATER, A PHONE RANG. THE SECOND YOUNG WOMAN LIFTED HER PALM TO HER EAR.
WHEN SHE FINISHED, SHE EXPLAINED, 'THAT WAS MY MOBILE PHONE. I HAVE A MICROCHIP IN MY HAND.'
THE OLDER WOMAN FELT VERY LOW -TECH. NOT TO BE OUT DONE, SHE DECIDED SHE HAD TO DO SOMETHING JUST AS IMPRESSIVE. SHE STEPPED OUT OF THE SAUNA AND WENT TO THE BATHROOM.
SHE RETURNED WITH A PIECE OF TOILET PAPER HANGING FROM HER REAR END.
THE OTHERS RAISED THEIR EYEBROWS AND STARED AT HER.
THE OLDER WOMAN FINALLY SAID.........WELL, WILL YOU LOOK AT THAT....I'M GETTING A FAX!!
Despite LMP's fears, we survived the night, no axe murderers snuck in to hack us up in our passed out states. It could be that the cat was still keeping guard even though I caught her sleeping on the job when I got up in the morning.
And since we took Chasers with all the wine so we didn't feel like total hammered shit, we hiked over to the lake in the morning and enjoyed the nice weather.
We had a blast, and Bev got plenty of good blackmail pictures of the Besties. Now it's cold again and I haven't been out of my house all weekend.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Captain Clueless: “You know those idiots that stole all that copper wiring from AT&T for five week’s in a row?”
Hoodchick: “Yes, I remember those dumbasses on the news. Like no one would notice and set up a sting.”
CC: “Well one of them plays for X.” (X substituted in place of the actual softball team name.)
HC: “No shit.”
CC: “Yeah, you know the blond guy that plays short stop?”
HC: “Not sure.”
CC: “You know, short, young blond guy. Plays short stop.”
HC: “I have no idea.”
At this point, a normal person would say something like, “Oh, well, you’d know him if you saw him.” Nooo.
CC: “YOU KNOW. THE SHORT. YOUNG. BLOND. GUY.”
Ending number 1 (which may happen depending on the cycle of the moon, how big of a dick CC’s been that day, or any other random female stereotype :)
HC: “What the fuck man. I said I don’t know who you’re talking about. Just repeating short, young and blond isn’t doing anything for me. You think I can remember all of these assholes you play ball with? Besides, that’s one of your frenemy teams and you hardly ever play them. If you said “You know the guy that always wears his shirts too small so his fat, disgusting, stretch marked gunt (btw, thanks for that word FADKOG!) hangs out for all to see?” Or “You know the guy that walks like he has a corn cob stuck up his ass?” Or even, “The 6’5” guy that weighs about 110lbs and has teeth like a meth-head?” These would be memorable traits. Otherwise, all those dicks are wearing matching hats, shirts and pants. You know, uniforms. They all fucking look alike to me. So what’s the fucking point here?”
CC: “You. are. such. a. fucking. bitch.” *silent treatment for the rest of the night*
Ending number 2:
HC: “Oh yeah, the short blond guy.” (eye-roll)
CC: “Yeah (chuckle,) what a fuck-tard” *and all is right in the world*
When your kids start asking you complex questions about when it’s ok to lie, feel free to use this as an example.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
I used to have a cat that would get annoyed if you wouldn't let him outside. He would get on the fireplace mantle and calmly scoot a knick knack over to the edge. And stare at you. If you didn't get up and let him out, he'd take a paw and calmly push it off. Then he'd start on another one. Scoot. Scoot, scoot. Stare. Scoot. Crash. Stare. Scoot. Scoot, scoot.
Obviously this took some amount of thought on his part. Even if I hated dusting all of that crap my mom kept around it was more of a pain to sweep up the mess. I don't think he was being spiteful, just that it was a way to get what he wanted. Which was a shot at all of the neighborhood lady cats. He didn't have to have grand plans to be a thinker.
You'll notice in the story below that they claim the chimps behavior is anti-social. By whose standards? If you were wrongfully jailed, no matter how nice the cell, would you not plot some revenge on your jailers and the looky-loos?
Stolen from the AP:
"A canny chimpanzee who calmly collected a stash of rocks and then hurled them at zoo visitors in fits of rage has confirmed that apes can plan ahead just like humans, a Swedish study said Monday. Santino the chimpanzee's anti-social behavior stunned both visitors and keepers at the Furuvik Zoo but fascinated researchers because it was so carefully prepared.
According to a report in the journal Current Biology, the 31-year-old alpha male started building his weapons cache in the morning before the zoo opened, collecting rocks and knocking out disks from concrete boulders inside his enclosure. He waited until around midday before he unleashed a "hailstorm" of rocks against visitors, the study said."
Just wait until he gets his opposable thumbs on some plutonium.
Friday, March 6, 2009
In the background I could see a shot of downtown. And just over the officer's shoulder, a movie marquee. (Remember when there were movie theaters downtown? Before the huge multi-plexes took over?) What was showing?
That Into You
I think they've got bigger problems than car thieves.
For those of you wondering what the deal is with an early, sober, Friday post - some of us girls are heading for a mini get-away. We've got lots of booze, cards, a hot tub and a gas fireplace. Alas, no wifi. But I will have my camera, because that's the bitchy kind of friend I am.
On Wednesday, while LMP and I were leaving a bar (yes, after the wine tasting) a guy stopped me. Whatever he said was lost in the band music so I classily yelled "Huh?"
"Is your name Bev?" he asked.
"Uh, no." I replied.
"Oh. Ok. Sorry." he said.
As we walked away I heard LMP pipe up "Bitch, you so know your name is Bev!"
All I know is Bev is going to the retreat this weekend and she's totally getting revenge on Little Miss Perfect.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Man am I going to feel like shit at work tomorrow.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Let me just say that I had stopped watching this show after the second go-round, mostly because the “winners” were total asshats and the people who should’ve won had all been axed for stupid shit.
They put the celebrities in teams of men versus women and the first “project” was making and selling cupcakes for charity. (BTW - at some point in my teen/early twenty years I was amused by Dice Clay. I don’t know why, my only excuse is that I was young and dumb. If anyone wonders if he’s really like that, or if it’s just his shtick, wonder no more. He’s a complete pig.)
In short, the men’s cupcakes tasted like ass (according to Jesse James) and the women won because, well, their cupcakes didn’t taste like ass.
The thing that really got me was Dennis Rodman. What he was saying about there being a lack of leadership made sense. None of these people are project managers, and that’s why the show ends up being a complete cluster fuck. I should know, this is what I do (manage projects, not fuck clusters.) At no point do you see them actually sit down, write out all of the tasks and then assign people to them. Then all the PM has to do is make sure each of those people is doing what they were assigned.
Sounds simple, right? It’s not. Because in the real world you end up stuck with people like Dice Clay – who refuse to do what they’re supposed to and go off to do their own thing. And Annie the poker lady/cupcake nazi who was worried about how much money she personally could raise to the point of nearly blowing a $9,000 sale. Thank goodness the bosomed bunny was there to keep the buyers interested.
Instead of stepping up though, Dennis just disengaged and pouted like a 2 year old. If I had been in charge, I would have hooked my pinkie through his lip ring, yanked him down to eye level and told him to get his ass out there hustling cupcakes or him and his worthless scarf could go back to the suite.
I doubt I’ll watch another episode because it’s going to be pretty much the same exact shit every week. But I did learn a couple of things. First, I should make everybody on my projects get a lip ring. Second, I need a playboy bunny to smooth things over when I go all psycho-screaming-bitch on somebody’s ass.
Friday, February 27, 2009
I'm known to enter the random contest or two, so this is the strategy I've started using when charities, sales people, or (wtf?) survey takers call and invade my peace and quiet.
Annoying caller: "Hi, is Mrs. Hoodchick home?"
Hoodchick: "Why, did I win something?"
AC: "Uhh. Umm. No, but..."
Hoodchick: "If you're not calling to tell me I've won something, then I'm not interested."
AC: (usually with a nervous chuckle) "Well, I'm calling about..."
Hoodchick (interrupting) "Seriously. I'm. not. interested." click
Captain Clueless can't believe I do this. He thinks it's totally bitchy. But he's the guy that picks up and immediately disconnects when a call is from an unknown number. And they just call back later.
Now I'm off to mix beer with antibiotics, and catch up on my blog reading (it's ok, it's lite beer.)
Monday, February 23, 2009
I don't know about you, but at times when I sneeze and cough - especially if I'm sick - there tends to be some kind of "mucal output." Somehow, without training, I manage to carry around enough tissues to use & discard and hand sanitizer if I just have to be out and about. If meeting someone new, I explain and refrain from shaking hands. But I guess that I am a germ spreader, uncouth and unhip.
The next time you're in line at the buffet, be sure to look for these über hygienic people. Shake their germ free hand. And hope none of that flaky, dried up snot fell off of their sleeve into your entree.
Friday, February 20, 2009
However you feel (or say you feel) about reality TV, there are worse things out there. If you haven't discovered the late night adult oriented cartoons, you are missing out. For your viewing pleasure, my all time favorite Robot Chicken episode.
Hilarious (and wrong) on so many levels.
I am now going back to nursing my headache with loads of booze.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
1. Husbands do not find it attractive to catch you mopping up under the boob sweat with the T-shirt you just stripped off after a work out. So be prepared by keeping an eye on the door at all times, ready to fling it into the hamper in a really slick basket shot.
2. Glazed pumpkin spice Krispy Kreme’s do not count towards your daily fruit intake. But boy are they gooo-oood.
3. People who drive 5 or even 10 miles an hour below the speed limit on a dry, flat, straight road are probably: very intelligent, had parents who were married when they were conceived and are physically unable to do the things I suggest. But it keeps me from making rude hand gestures which can get you into a heap of trouble in today’s world.
4. If your kid has to go to the dentist to get a cavity filled, DO NOT let them administer the “goofy gas.” It is more addictive than crack. Your kids will start sneaking sugar covered gummi bears before they lay down to dream of their next fix.
5. Things that really annoy you are probably things you’re guilty of. Like when I am researching a product and there are no reviews, it pisses me off. And yet I’ve never posted a product review. I tried once, but the word verification kicked my ass so I took that as a sign.
6. You can’t change people who are mean, petty, jealous or bigoted. You may have to be acquainted with people like this, but never, ever, mistake them for your friend.
7. Confiscate all cameras and phones before taking a bong hit. Sure, you’re not famous now but if you become famous I hope you will thank me for this tip by sliding me some cash. And I’ll keep the photo to myself.
P.S. I know the link is wonky, but there is something broken when I try to go directly to that day's post. You will have to scroll down to find it. Don't sprain anything.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Sunday I asked Captain Clueless to take the dog out for a walk while I cleaned up land mines in the back yard. They returned through the back yard because they had a lot of mud to clean off. He asks me a question as I’m busy scooping. I respond. He loudly says “I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”
I look at him, and sure enough he still has his ear buds in. “Can you hear this?” I asked, as I flipped him the bird.
A few minutes later he asks me something else, and I look at him. He still has the damn things in. There is no way he could hear my response unless I screamed it. I started ranting (to myself because he obviously wasn’t going to hear me) about how rude that is and if he can’t at least take those things out of his ears I am not even bothering to try to talk to him, etc. I go back to my chore and he says “I CAN READ YOUR LIPS YOU KNOW, IT’S NOT NICE OF YOU TO CALL ME A COCK SUCKER!”
I say it was completely justified.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Normally we text each other but for some reason I decided to call my husband today to discuss dinner since I was very late leaving work. Imagine my surprise when I called home and got voice mail.
Being that I never recorded an answering machine greeting, it's a strange male-like voice that should have answered. Once I received a female greeting, I knew something was up. I've never used your voice mail service, and honestly have no idea how to even retrieve messages from it.
I suppose I should call you and complain about my phone being out, since I am paying you fuckers after all. It has been strangely peaceful the last few evenings, with no one calling me to ask for money that I don't have to give. Maybe I don't need a land line after all, thanks for the great service!
Monday, February 9, 2009
After 4 weeks of being laid off, Captain Clueless went back to work today. Which is good because with the medical and dental bills I've had to cut back on my spending addictions - and I'm really having a sweater jones.
He sent me a text around 9am that said "This sucks!"
I responded "So does welfare!"
For some reason I didn't hear back from him.
We're having a wonderful heat wave - 50's. I was able to wear clothes that don't make me look like a marshmellow, and my favorite light weight leather jacket. I may have a touch of spring fever, although I know it's going to get cold again. A co-worker IM'd me that it was 71 where she lives and I managed not to call her a nasty name. Out loud.
President Obama ended his speech by 9:00 so it didn't screw up Heros or Medium. I voted for the guy, I don't actually have to listen to him, right?
I laughed, and maybe even snorted a little over the pictures of Ponita's horse, Thunder, in giant underpants that I was trying to win.
Hey, February in Ohio pretty much sucks so you have to appreciate the little things.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Now, in honor of Marinka, who has been bragging about her perfect pussy, here's a story that makes me laugh no matter how many times I read it.
The dog vs. the cat
8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with my people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
Day 983 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets.
Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.
Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter I am. Bastards!
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of 'allergies.' I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.
The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so He is safe. For now.....
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Yesterday I woke up and thought, yes! I only have 7 more days with these temps on my teeth, I have a hair appointment tonight, and AND Plum Spooky finally came in. I was only 169th on the reservation list at the library. Patience is not my forte. If it hadn't been one of the risky 'between the numbers' books I would have bought it last year instead of waiting.
This is what happened.
Wednesday we had a team vs. team lunch-n-bowl scheduled. I’m not much of a bowler, except on the Wii. I felt bad because only 3 of my other team mates showed up, so I actually gave it a try. I rolled a fucking 50 something. My team lost by about 19 pins. The bad part was, as I was carefully tearing apart and eating my chicken fingers (gotta love bowling alley food) somehow I tore loose one side of my temps. I quickly pressed it back on. So far it’s held, but I’m thinking I might not make it until next Wednesday without some repair work. (I didn’t feel bad about my score. Really, I warned them about my lack of skill.)
So, I left work to head to the salon. The disaster area they call I-75 was its usual mess, and I was afraid I’d be late. I finally got through the jam and was flying along thinking, at least I didn’t run anyone over. But if I do, I’m following this example:
Published - Jan 17 2009 06:53AM EST AP
An elderly woman in Palm Beach County crashed with her vehicle into a man on a scooter and then kept driving to make her hair appointment, police said.
Louise Davidson, 77, was arrested Thursday for leaving the scene of an injury crash, Boynton Beach police said.
Police spokeswoman Stephanie Slater said the woman was turning right when she veered into the path of the oncoming scooter that had the right of way. The man was thrown by the impact onto the windshield and then fell to the road, she added.
Police said they later spotted the woman's car after she had her hair appointment.
Authorities said the man suffered abrasions all over his body but the injuries were not believed to be life threatening.
Do not get between a woman with gray growing out and her hair appointment. This is a lesson to all you men out there – hair crises trump abrasions.
I decide to change a few things, which will require some awkward growing out. Looked fine when she styled it, even if the bangs are a bit shorter than I like. I go to style it this morning and I can’t do shit with it. We’ll see if I make it to the new style without taking scissors to it.
At lunch I stop in Walmart to get the only yogurt I actually like (which the bastards at Kroger stopped selling.) Guess what. No. fucking. yogurt. I consoled myself with a box of Ghirardelli dark chocolate mint creams. That sounds like I ate the whole box, but I didn’t. Even if I wanted to.
Back at my desk, trying to enjoy my chocolate buzz and Captain Clueless calls. It seems he took our 120+ lb (hey, it’s his winter weight) dog out for a walk. CC wanted to tell me, in case there are police at the house when I get home, that someone’s poodle attacked our dog. My big sweetie doesn’t like strange dogs, because he was bitten by a loose dog.
I asked if there was blood.
“Couldn’t tell. He had it pinned to the ground by the throat.”
Did it happen in their yard?
“No, on the street. It didn’t have a leash, just ran out from under a porch at us.”
I told him where the non-expired dog license was, just in case. But I’m thinking it’s the poor little shit’s owners fault.
And of course, there was a wreck on the I-75 parking lot so it took me 3 times the usual to finally get home.
So my question is, if I snarf the rest of that box of chocolate while using the elliptical and reading my book do any of the calories count?
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Before writing my witty post I caught up on some of my reading only to discover that it's an epidemic. I knew that women who lived together or work closely together get in the same cycle, but I had no idea this was happening in blog circles. Scarlet's got hygiene products, MJs teasing a post for later. The men are wearing red bow ties. Some of the gals are super bitchy but aren't fessing up to aunt flow being in town (you know who you are.) It all must mean something. I'm sure I could figure it out, but I need to go eat more chocolate.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
1 – I lived with a guy who was a compulsive liar. I’m really independent, but it got so bad I moved back in with my parents (which I swore I would NEVER do.) Moving my things into their house, I broke down in tears of relief, to be away from that psycho and to realize that my parents really would take me back, no matter what shit my mom said when I was a teenager.
2 – I was in the choir in school. But I can’t sing at all. I actually got cut off singing karaoke. I tell people it was because the bar was closing.
3 – I took my drivers test the same morning that we left for a cross country trip to visit my great-aunt in Oregon. My dad made me drive through Chicago that night, I still haven’t forgiven him.
4 – My husband of 11 years and I knew each other for 5 months when we got married. And yet none of those betting bastards have paid me a dime.
5 – I was one of only 2 seniors in my high school graduating class that actually took the offered second year of computer programming.
6 – My paternal grandparents divorced when that was a no-no. Actually this is two things. My grandmother left him and the 5 kids and ended up doing time in Marysville’s women’s prison for child abandonment.
7 – Then my grandpa and she said whoever outlived the other was pissing on the dead one’s grave. Grandma was riddled with cancer and had no idea who or where she was. Grandpa died in the night about two months before her. She had no clue. So no one’s grave got pissed on. As bonus trivia – she lived in Denver so I really only saw her maybe 5 times in my life. If I’d been to her grave the one time I was in Denver I might have pissed on her grave for Grandpa Francis.
8 – I think my mom used to ruin my clothes in the laundry so I’d do my own. For cripes sake, she was a stay at home mom on top of it and I was 12 when this started. Eventually my little sister (7 years younger) would want me to wash her stuff. She wouldn’t turn anything right side out. So it got washed, dried and returned that way. Hey, at least I didn’t shrink or bleach her shit.
9 – My maternal great-grandparents lived next to a pig farm. In the typical little-girl way, I was fascinated with animals. But all of my second cousins would tell me to stay away from the fence, that the pigs bite. I’m still a little wary of pigs, but I love me some bacon.
Ok, you didn’t designate a number and I think that’s enough over sharing for now. I'm not tagging anyone (yet) not because I don't want to but because I'm short on time.
Friday, January 30, 2009
I hope I’m not the only one that has this complaint. Actually, I know I can’t be because I spend a lot of time at the softball fields with Captain Clueless’ family and friends and I know it becomes a weird competition between the guys because I’ve heard them going through different phrases and laughing. What is it about men that they need to announce their need to take a shit, and the euphemisms they have for it? Honestly, I manage to do “number two” without having to tell everyone where I’m going and what I intend on doing. I really don’t need to know that’s where you’re going. Hell, I probably won’t even notice you’re gone for at least 30 minutes.
If you don’t want to admit it, I’m calling bullshit. Here’s the most frequent list that I am subjected to. Feel free to add the ones you have to deal with.
- Taking the kiddies to the pool
- Putting a roof on a log cabin
- I gotta drop a deuce
- I'm taking the browns to the super bowl
- I gotta take a(n) (insert name here) and wipe my (insert another name here)
Oh, and when you’re done, I do not need to know that you’re 5 pounds lighter.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The waitress did her best, but I think that our party of four in addition to what little ‘usual’ lunch crowd they had was too much for her. I’m not going to go into all the details of the experience, because that’s not where this story is going. Let’s just say we never had a hankering for Mom’s cooking again.
Tonight I was half listening to the evening news, and they were showing tape of a robbery in progress at – you guessed it – Mom’s! There didn’t appear to be any customers in the dining area. This white guy in a Green Bay Packers coat was dragging the employee to the register to get money and then ran off. If I were going to rob a business, I think I would select a location that actually might have had some paying customers.
The news story switches to a shot of the police dragging a white-trash-male from the back of a cruiser. I would remark on his teeth, or lack of, but right now I’m not judging anybody’s grill. He’s yelling things to the camera, but his whole attitude seems to have a surreal, almost jovial manner to it. His rant went something like this “Hey Bro! Just because I’m a white guy with a tan coat means I robbed Mom’s? I didn’t rob nothing, I was home drinking a fucking bottle of Bacardi!” The reporter said the police suspect he used the booty from the robbery to buy said bottle of Bacardi. I mean, a pint only costs like $7 so I guess it’s possible that he could have gotten that much. They also suspect he robbed a convenience store earlier while wearing a tan coat.
So where did my curious little mind go after hearing all of this? How did he know there was a tan coat involved? Was I witnessing in real life one of those brilliant police tricks where the suspect admits to something he could have no way of knowing? Does being too drunk on rum really qualify as an acceptable excuse/alibi? And if so, can I take back all the apologies I ever had to make the morning after a rum drunk? Will all of this publicity turn things around and make Mom’s the next hot spot? Will we then be able to brag that we knew about Mom’s for years and all these new customers are just posers and treat them as such?
Yep, I bet there’s a proud Mom out there somewhere, but it’s probably not his.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Tuesday – the doctor called about the MRI results on my knee. No torn ligaments or cartilage damage showed on it. “Gee, why does it still hurt so damn much?” I asked. I mean, he is a doctor, right? Guess what, he doesn’t know. That’s it. Buh-bye.
Wednesday – we’re not reliving that shit again.
Thursday – Weee! That was jello shot making night. This is what 746 jello shots look like (side note, it was supposed to be 750. How much money do you think those bastards at GFS are pocketing by shorting each pack by 1 cup??) And don’t try to call me out on the math. One cup had a hole and had to go in the trash (after the jello I put in it went straight out the bottom and all over the freaking place.) Where was I, besides killing you with punctuation? Oh yes, I tried to take a picture of my aching back when we were done, but it just didn’t come across.
Mini-J and Miss Abby decided to setup some chairs and have a movie night while moms, aunt and friends labored away in the kitchen.
Miss Abby’s new baby sister.
Friday – I had a couple of cocktails and bitched to all of you about my Wednesday. Taking advantage of my impaired judgment, Captain Clueless tricked me into showing him ‘the blog.’ He thought some of it was funny, didn’t get some of it, and strongly objected to the Captain Clueless nickname. He would, because he’s, well, clueless. Seriously, after checking out a few posts he went into the living room and cranked up an Asia song on the TV. At no point in my lifetime did I ever like Asia. And if he had a clue he would know how much they suck. If you’re an Asia fan and feel like bitching about this, don’t bother. You have no cred with me.
Saturday – The big night. Somehow I missed getting a pic of Jeanne slurping a jello shot. She must have sucked them down while I was occupied elsewhere. Don't blame me, she's sneaky like that.
This is Eric. His table won the most-bloated-from-jello prize before the 2 for 1 fire sale.
Now, would someone please tell me why I have an irrational fear that this poor little duckling is going to drown if he falls in here?
Friday, January 23, 2009
I went to the dentist at 7 fucking a.m. expecting to get my permanent crown on my “baby tooth” and I expected a chemical/tool combo of some sort to get rid of the old veneers, to be replaced by temps until the new ones came in. Then off to work I’d go.
My first warning should have been when the assistant asked if I wanted novocain. “Will I need it?” I stupidly asked. “Oh yeah,” she replied.
My 2 front teeth (top) are mine. Two on each side of those are veneered (one of those is the broke ass one.) The novocain went into the very sensitive gum line in the top front of my mouth. I’m not a wimpy person but these fucking shots made me cry. I don’t wear waterproof mascara, so there went ‘blackish brown’ streaks down my temples. This should have been a warning, but no, I sucked it up and carried on.
The sadistic bastard then drilled off the veneers and god knows what else. I felt most of it. I really wished I’d gotten nitrous at this point, but I didn’t want to seem like a pussy so I soldiered on. After 30 minutes of this shit, they tell me they have to insert rods or some such bullshit in my gums. I thought I was too far gone to care.
I was wrong. This shit was bad. It was worse than the pain when my knee bent in the wrong direction. My hands were clenched together to keep from punching him in the face. And his cute little assistant. More tears. Somehow I survived it. Then the CLA and another S&M bitch start taking molds. Two of them (green) had to be left in 5 minutes to set. My bottom lip sealed to one of them and when CLA tried to pull it out I almost lost it. I carefully peeled my lip off of it and allowed her to proceed. The next time (with the whole fat, numb upper lip and everything) I had drool dripping down all over my chin. Wonderful.
Now, the S&MB starts taking molds for my temps. My gums are already swollen to twice their normal size, and my upper lip at least four times. She says ‘We don’t normally put temps on for veneers, but I guess you wanted them. (no shit) They’re going to be very fragile so you should avoid biting into things and nothing chewy. The veneers are made in Florida so it will be about 3 weeks for them to come in.” WTF??? Ok, I’m a positive person (NOT) so I thought, maybe this will help me lose weight.
Luckily I stopped in their bathroom on the way to the receptionist. I cleaned up the mascara mess. And the remains of the green molding stuff that was all over my face. The streak under my nose that looked like a booger was a pleasant bonus. AND the baby tooth is still a fucking baby tooth. Then I charged you don’t even want to know how much on my Capital One card for this. Am I the one with a problem??
Back in the car, I tried to take a drink of water and it dribbled all over the front of me. Then I tried to smoke, but couldn’t get my fat upper lip to cooperate. So I said fuck this and stopped at a donut shop and bought an apple fritter that was as big as a dinner plate and a chocolate donut (I so deserved both.)
While some of my twisted co-workers may have enjoyed my completely trashed state, I said fuck it and went home with my donuts. I emailed my boss that I was FUBAR for the day and snarfed donuts and chocolate milk (through a straw stuffed to the back of my mouth.) When the novocain wore off I dosed myself with vicoden the rest of the day.
When I go back for the rest of the dental work, I am so demanding nitrous. I don’t care what they say, I already paid an arm and two legs so at least I should get a good buzz out of this shit.