Hoodchick's back and loaded

Ok, I haven't written for a really, really long time. I've had a bit of depression going on what with the crappy winter weather, cancer dog, bf's getting divorced, etc. But, some of my friends are totally ragging me so time to stop lurking and blossom back onto the scene, similar to the tulips brightening my flower beds. April showers, bah! I'm an April kid and there's nothing like April to pick up the spirits.

Where to start though - while you all might think I've been slacking I actually have been collecting an assortment of strange pictures, stories and things for your entertainment. Well, they entertained me. The thing that amazed me the most is the number of comments I had queued up to moderate. Some are crap, of course. Some are funny. And then there's this person that commented the following, I'll remind you, on a blog called "My Life Requires Alcohol":

"A profaned, offensive blog...yes, I know that one does not have to read it, right? Pardon me for accidentally visiting the page here and reading a sample of a life certain ones wish not to live of it. Have you drinking considered non-alcoholic beverages and feeding on less junk food?"

Well, I will admit that I just killed a bottle of French Maid Cab (my current favorite) but the FIRST time I read that comment I was stone cold sober and my first thought was "You speaka english?" closely followed by "Douchebag" - neither of which I think the commenter will appreciate. Is it just me, or should they learn to use their internet parental control on their own web access? And, BTW, Douchebag, I don't pardon you.

So, anyway, to catch you up:
Little Miss Perfect (LMP) couldn't live up to her own standards and filed for divorce from my BIL. Boy has this been fun, you're sure to see more posts about this, mostly how much I think they are mentally fucking up Mini-J...

Bestie has a new nickname of TSO - THE SLOW ONE. LOL, that is going to be a fun fun post when I fill in the last few weeks.

And my newest bestie - CB - Cranky Bitch, aka Manlicky, aka TBD. You know when you meet someone and it feels like you've known them FOREVER and can tell them anything (regardless of how much alcohol has been consumed) - that's CB.

So, stay tuned and I hope I live up to my own hype if I survive Captain Clueless' wrath about my jamming to Meatloaf's Bat Out Of Hell album for the last half hour. Jesus, what environment did he grow up in to not appreciate Bat Out Of Hell. Don't you know that I need you? You gotta know that I serve you. For crying out loud you know I love you!

Anti-thanks

Because life’s been force feeding me a big soggy shit sandwich lately, I’m going to lead up to the holiday with a series of suck lists. Hopefully you’re not dealing with these kind of things so YOU can give extra thanks at my expense.

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

Happy Halloweenie!

I know I've been slacking off again, but we're having a bit of indian summer here and you know I'm a fair weather friend. I'm too lazy to look it up, where did the term indian summer come from anyway? Is it offensive to our native american friends? You know, because I strive to be totally PC.

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.

Adventures in drunken visits resulting in babysitting

Somehow I got conned into watching Mini-J tomorrow. A Saturday. Morning. With a two year old. I'm sure that all the 22 oz drafts for $2 BEFORE she sprung the question on me had nothing to do with it.

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"

Hoodchick: *snicker*

Mini-J: "It's not funny!"

Hoodchick: "Oh, but it is. What isn't funny is the tantrum you threw earlier."

Mini-J: "Wha-aaaa-aaaa"

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?)

It's raining cats & dogs

Ok, so not yet. But the forecast around here is for freakishly high temperatures and rain. Which plays havoc with my migraines so I will be highly self medicated all weekend. This should be fun! Although I'm thinking my doc needs to up my standing darvoset prescription to something stronger.

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
DOG DIARY
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!

CAT DIARY
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.....

Men and their shit

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.

Is it wrong to take a hit out on my dentist?

I’ve been dealing with the whole broken tooth thing. The “temporary” they put on it is small, so it looks a bit odd (Captain Clueless calls me baby tooth) – but my dentist was being cautious and didn’t want me to break off more of the remaining tooth until he got it all fixed up. While I was dealing with this, I figured I might as well get my other 3 veneers replaced. They are supposed to last 8 to 10 years, mine were pushing 20. (If you don’t know what a veneer is read here. I fall in the ‘small gap tooth’ category.)

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.