- I usually memorize lyrics, but until the internets, I totally, always got them wrong.
- My dogs are so sweet…when they’re asleep.
- Broke down and gave Wormy Kitty another catnip toy because it’s fun to watch that shit.
- Fucking condenser froze up TWICE already this evening…I’m sweating it out in a house with 74 degree temperature and I’m watching it continue to rise.
- Yeah, I’m one of those annoying hot-natured bitches that causes everyone else in the office to wear sweaters in the summer.
- Glad I have home warranty, except it’s the Friday night of a three-day weekend so I may just have to deal until Tuesday.
- Can you lose weight by sweating?
- Bought some hair serum today at an outlet mall. Went home and found out I could get it much cheaper online. Guess who will be staking out that kiosk tomorrow at 10:00 a.m.? “All sales final – NO REFUNDS” – whatthehellever!
- If I don’t get my money back, I’m going to stand there and tell potential customers they can buy the product cheaper at Amazon and show it to them on my phone. If I can’t have my money back, I’ll make those scamming bastards lose at least three times what they cost me.
- Okay, yeah, so I was a sucker, but in my defense, my blood sugar was low and I didn’t have my Don’t You DARE Fuck With Me face on yet. SO unprepared!
- Hope there isn’t any incident involving security, though. Personally not a fan of being restrained.
- Took the Office Mate to lunch today at some place I haven’t been to in a while, but the menu looked good. Fried pickles are always a good thing…until you bite into one and realize it’s a SWEET pickle. Who the fuck does that shit??
- Trio of fries were good – one was a purple Peruvian potato, which sounded (and looked) cool, and they covered it in cayenne pepper. I’m a Spicy Girl, can’t get it hot enough for me, but those fries just really didn’t do it. I liked the homemade mayo, though.
- HUGE pet peeve of mine: Someone sends an email to a lot of people who don’t know each other and doesn’t BCC the email list. Bitch, if I wanted 149 strangers to have my email address, I’d take out an ad on Craig’s List.
- I’ve never been one of those Bosses Who Yell. Never understood that approach to management. I’m more like one of those Bosses Who Laugh. And Talk To Themselves.
- In the name of the baby Jesus and all that is holy, what the HELL do my dogs do all day long that causes them to pass out on my sofas every night?
- SO sorry, but this is too funny!
- Every time I hear Wormy Kitty jumping around and I go to look after her, she freezes, shoots me the Evil Eye and hides behind her litter box. I swear she is plotting to smother me with her kneading little paws when she finally gets released from her Ringworm Quarantine
- On the phone with the non-BF just now. Me: This kitten is so cute. I am poking her belly. Gotta go hose off with some Lysol, though. Him: Back to your dating days, I see.
- Yeah, no motherfucking Christmas gift for you this year, asshat.
- P.S. I totally love him. I just play his Bitchy Non-Girlfriend on TV.
- Just took a peek at my calendar tomorrow. Shit, can’t make the Outlet Mall Stalking. Gonna have to chalk that up to “I Probably Shouldn’t Be Let Outside Without A Chaperone.”
- Oh HELL, the kitten is awake and playing with catnip again. I give up and I am going to bed!
The non-BF calls on his way home from work to talk, as we normally do each day. Honestly, I don’t know how anyone else follows a conversation either one of us has with someone else because we are both so fucking ADD it isn’t even funny. Except sometimes it is.
We are on our eighth topic in 15 minutes (I only switched gears twice…so yeah, PROGRESS), and he suddenly says he has some bad news.
[Mind you, this is after he is talking about getting a beer cave, so yeah, what the fuck?]
Him: There is proof now that links alcohol consumption to various cancers.
Then he goes on to tell me all this scientific crap I cannot remember enough to even paraphrase his monologue. Well, okay, let me try…
Basically, every time you enjoy one of your Adult Beverages, be it beer, a fruity frou-frou drink or the shit I enjoy (gin & tonic, extra lime, please!), there is a by-product that occurs from consuming said Adult Beverage that causes cells to mutate. Now normally, the average healthy body can fight that off and do cell repair, but it’s really a crap shoot and you could end up with DNA damage. And HEY! It’s worse when you imbibe every day. Even if it is only a glass of wine! I think a lot of us out there are screwed.
Wow, I really sound like I know what I’m talking about here. I don’t.
Him: Blah, blah, blah, scientific word, etcetera et al.
Me: (LONG pause and then) Soooo, how many mutated cells do you think I have?
Him: (all serious and shit, so WOW, because okay, I was kidding. I know how many I have!) I don’t know. You are rolling the dice every time you take a drink.
Me: What? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the sound of me pouring myself some Cell Mutation Juice.
We ended the call about ten minutes later when he had to go feed an animal or shred something or some such shit.
Him: I will call you later.
Me: Okay, I’m off to mutate some cells!
At lunch today, the Office Mate and I decided we’d go to Target to pick up garbage bags for the office (fun!) and then go get some lunch. She got in my car and was about to toss a wadded up note onto the floor (aka, my car’s “garbage can”) but read it first.
Her: “Passport & muscle relaxers”???
Me: Don’t ask.
Later, we were standing in line, waiting to place our order, and there in front of a few people in our line stood a female Dallas sherriff with pink handcuffs. I kept trying to take a photo of her but the bitch in front of me kept getting in the way.
The Office Mate: You keep getting Glock Blocked!
Me: Ha! You think she has a pink gun, too?
I got blocked by a user on Twitter. Was wondering out loud why on above mentioned phone call to the non-BF. He told me that if I was going to write shit and put it out there for everyone to see, I’d need a thicker skin.
“I have a thick skin. I don’t give a flying fuck why they blocked me. Only said all that shit so you would tell me how fabulous I am.” You know what? It worked.
Ten or so years ago, I was surprised when people liked me. Now I’m surprised when they don’t. What the hell must be wrong with them?
P.S. The non-BF said it was probably because I’m a “potty mouth.” Fuck him.
The Office Mate and I were talking about animal pranks after I admitted I didn’t know that catnip made cats crazy.
Me: I thought that stuff made them stoned and they’d just go to sleep.
She laughed at me and told me “NO, they kinda get silly from that shit.” I really have a LOT to learn about kitties.
So then she told me about a Pug bowling video, which sounded awful but she assured me the dog wasn’t hurt. I told her I got into trouble with my mom many years ago for something similar.
Me: I had some balloons from my birthday…and yeah, I was an adult, so what?…and so I tied the balloons to her dog’s collar and watched it run around the house trying to get away from them. She ended up under a bed, barking at the balloons.
While it was funny at the time, I believe I may be going to hell for that one.
P.S. I’ve grown up a lot since then. I only tease my animals when I know it will make my life easier.
Not really. These fucking dogs pretty much own ME, not the other way around. And I really don’t need fucking PETA or anyone else on my ass right now. My dogs eat better than most homeless people do (don’t worry, I don’t give my dogs beer money, sheesh!). Tomorrow night, they will get scrambled eggs on top of their kibble because, hey, it shouldn’t just be us humans who are happy that it’s FINALLY FUCKING FRIDAY!
P.S. Again: Blindie just ninja-kicked me off the sofa and onto the floor. No, “this is not my beautiful house.” Yeah, I pay the mortgage but it’s really their place. They just let me live with them.
- I believe in starting the day off on a positive note, so my alarm on my iPhone is titled “Wake up, lazy bitch!”
- Found a sample of a self-tanning towlette underneath some shit on my
“junk” tabledining room table. (Of course, just a drawer wouldn’t be sufficient.) Decided to apply it to my right leg, wait the three hours and see if it really is going to be darker than my other pasty white leg. If that crap doesn’t wash off right away, it’s a Silkwood Shower for me tonight, I guess.
- Was walking into a convenience store on the way home today and a guy was standing by a car parked next to the entrance of the store. He swirled around to look at me. Him: Hey, how you doin’? Me, to myself: Are you serious? Me, to him: I’m fine, thank you. And how are you? Him: Alright, alright, alright. Just like some kind of black Matthew McConaughey.
- I was so tempted to ask if he had a joint and when he said no, I would respond with “It’d be a lot cooler if you did.“
- [I really have to stop doing movie quotes in here.]
- Last winter, on my drive home, I would see this teenaged boy out on a residential corner near a junior high school. He’d be dancing and making hand signs and pointing at people driving by. Second time I drove past him doing that bullshit, I rolled down the passenger window, yelled “Peace, baby!” and stuck up my first two fingers. After that, I’d honk and wave or give a thumbs-up when I passed by. Then it got warmer again and I haven’t seen him since. I suppose it’s too hot now for even the Crazies to come out.
- UPDATE: Right leg is still a Scary White color…
- Several years ago, when I was working at the job where I met the non-BF, it was around the Christmas holidays and I was bored because my friend and I were the only ones who didn’t take time off. I swore to her there was a recipe for Twinkie Lasagna, and I wanted to prove it. So I did an internet search for Ding Dongs, since they are made by the same company. Unfortunately for me, I too quickly clicked on the first link the search provided and screamed because I saw a huge penis just looming at me on my screen. Quickly shut that shit down and confessed to my boss when he returned from his holiday. Apparently, IT had already informed him of the “incident” and he blew them off. When I explained what I was looking for, he gave me a strange look. It was almost as though he was disappointed in my real search. Hell, I think the Twinkie Lasagna recipe makes a better story. Any ol’ bitch can talk about porn, ya know?
- I got it wrong, by the way. It was Twinkie Tacos. I cannot make this shit up. Oh, yeah, and Twinkie sushi? No fucking thank you!
- “You no like sushi? How about a Ho Ho?”
- Went to the store after work to get some liquid fabric softener. Left the store with a bag of limes and a coconut. Who the hell does that kind of shit?
- Fucking condenser froze up again. I’m really beginning to lose my patience with this shit!
- UPDATE NUMBER TWO: Still no fucking tan. These towlettes are a complete failure. Plus, they smell like orange-scented paint thinner and they are STICKY. I had to pry the right off the left one after I crossed my legs!
- [Knowing my luck, tomorrow morning I will wake up with one white leg and one brown one. If that happens, I swear to the baby Jesus and all that is holy, I’m wearing the shortest skirt I can find!]
- I recently discovered that Wormy Kitty is a southpaw. She keeps poking her left front leg out to swat at Blindie when Blindie comes to howl at her cage. (I’m not getting much sleep, just in case you wondered.) I tried to teach her to shake but Wormy just looked at me like she was thinking, “Bitch, please! I’m not a fucking dog!”
- That crazy cat keeps doing nose dives into her kitty litter. It’s quite disconcerting to hear a loud thump from the other room when you are used to peace and quiet. Okay, “sorta” peace and quiet.
- The animal situation is probably getting out of hand here. All I need is a pygmy goat, a hedgehog and a goddamned chicken and I’m set. Ready for Them to “send me away” for some “rest and relaxation.” And strong psychotropic meds.
- Honestly, I really could use the time off.
- P.S. Those towlettes? Don’t. Fucking. Work.
- UPDATED, next morning: Um, YES THEY DO. It is hot as hell but I may be wearing pants to work…
- The non-BF and I keep calling Wormy Kitty a “he.” I told the non-BF she was going to end up with gender identification issues. The non-BF: “Don’t you mean gender identity issues?” Me: “Here is something I will say that you cannot correct: Fuck off.”
- Rainbow is a Spiteful Pisser. I have to be careful when packing for a trip because he will pee on my luggage. His resentment towards Wormy Kitty is evidenced by him pissing on the jug of kitty litter. Vindictive little bastard.
- Even so, he isn’t as bad as Trouble was. I once pointed my finger at him and chastised him for something he did. Little shit snuck up behind me while I was doing my makeup, bit me on the ass and ran off.
- I miss that damn dog.
- LONG day today – at work before 7:30. On the phone with the non-BF just now. Me: It’s been quite a day. I think I am just going to relax. Him: Translation – Hoda.
- Wouldn’t it be great to have a job where you get paid to drink early in the morning on TV?
- Hate going grocery shopping without a list. I forgot nail polish remover and at the last minute put back the Woolite. Good thing, since I have three big jugs of it at home already.
- Forced Austerity Campaign has sucked in one way: mani/pedi. While my toes turn out looking halfway decent, my right hand looks like a three year old took to it with a crayon.
- Someone told me I smelled nice today. Them: What’s that you’re wearing? I like it. Me: Lysol Spring Waterfall scent.
- Just spilled wine on my carpet. (No, Mom, I’m not drunk. Just fucking clumsy is all). Good thing I prefer white wine. Oh well, the stain will go well with the vomit stains from Rainbow’s illness a week ago. It was a genius idea I had to put light beige carpeting in my den of a house that has (had, at the time) four dogs.
- No, wine is not on the off-limit list for Forced Austerity Campaign, at least not for today. Don’t push the issue, either, because I will push back. And I can push harder.
- Trying for the third night in a row to repaint the Pointer Finger and Fuck You Finger on my right hand. Now I don’t remember which of the three-insignificantly-different-shades-of-pale-pink-nail-polishes I used on the other eight.
- I’ve had every hair color imaginable. Okay, well every hair color found in nature. I will try pink someday. I just cannot pull off being a redhead, though. Not because of my personality. I just look like Ronald McDonald when I do.
- Totally know when it is time for a visit to my hair stylist: I start braiding the top of my head. Time to hide the scissors AND the alcohol. Bitch may start cutting if you don’t watch out!
- I swear, I can’t remember crap from like five minutes ago, but I know what outfit I was wearing on a date in 11th grade. Is that early onset Alzheimer’s shit selective?
- Between Blindie’s insulin injections, the animals’ medicaton distribution and wrapping up my Probably Broken Toe, I am quite sure I was a nurse in a former life.
- I just hope it wasn’t Nurse Ratched.
- Wormy Kitty sounds just like Woody Woodpecker when she mews. I really need to record that shit.
- Every now and then, I look around at the stuff that is my life. It really is a dichotomy. On the one hand, there is all this shit I have to do to keep this one dog (and now cat) alive and well. And there is all of the animal-related heartache I endured. On the other hand are all the beautiful people I’ve met along the way. And all the animals. Mr. Swirly left a legacy, as did Trouble. Blindie probably will as well.
- Rainbow, on the other hand, only gave his opinion on window treatments. Yeah, and okay, he is the most precious momma’s boy EVER! “I wish all my boys were gay. Then they would never leave me!”
- Well shit if I didn’t mess up the Pointer Finger again. I fucking give up!
“Looks like somebody has a case of the Mondays.” I swear to the baby Jesus and all that is holy, if anyone EVER says that to me, I’ll knock them upside their head with my 20 pound purse!
I give you my Bitchy Monday:
- Wormy Kitty (as she is now called) doesn’t seem to be doing any better. Might be because I am an idiot and wasn’t giving her the proper dosage of nasty ringworm meds the first two days. I really need to read labels.
- I don’t seem to be doing any better myself. Feel like the fucking Typhoid Mary.
- Woke up sick this morning, slept a little too late and had to go into the office wearing a ball cap because I had fugly hair from being a lazy bitch this weekend. Also wore baggy cropped pants, a mismatched t-shirt and flip flops that didn’t even come close to pulling the “outfit” together. I looked like a homeless person dressed me.
- Now, don’t get all shitty about the above bullet point. I give them beer money, remember?
- The bandage covering my ringworm is irritating my skin (eew, that still grosses me out to say “my” and “ringworm” in the same sentence!). Between welty skin, a fungal infection and my Lysol Arms, I’m a train wreck.
- Was chastised by the non-BF yesterday: “You sure do cuss a lot more these days. It’s like your blog has taken over your real life.” Oopsy! Can’t have THAT happen, can we?
- Forced Austerity Campaign has not been too much of an adjustment for me. I didn’t opt out of my emails, but now I delete them all. Okay, so I take a tiny peek at them and then I delete them. Oh yeah, and I threw away my “Shit I Need To Buy” folder! PROGRESS.
- I know I really am overdue on a Man-Skeeter post but I’m so busy at work these days, I don’t even want to think about her when I get home. Soon, my bitches, very, very soon.
- Totally forgot to turn up my A/C this morning and came home to a super cold house, a shivering Wormy Kitty, two pissed off dogs and a condenser that froze up.
- What would I do for a Klondike bar? I don’t really like them, so yeah, probably nothing.
- I just looked at my surrounding area and realized I have four bottles of nail polish out. Three are pale pink with shades so insignificantly different from one another, it makes me wonder why I bought all three of them. Oh wait, the Shopping Problem. I fail.
- “Forgot” to eat this weekend, except for some Cheetos, so I had two chicken biscuits and biscuits and plain gravy for breakfast, and a sandwich for lunch. Damn, I’ve had my carb intake for all of September the last week in August. Nothing but salad and apples for this bitch for four weeks!
- I have to get up really early tomorrow, so I set three different alarms on my phone and I’m having my mommy call me in the morning. I sure miss my “alarm clock dog” (Mr. Swirly). For more reasons than that, obviously, but hell, that dog could wake the dead.
- Going to start calling my girls The Nips. Going braless? “Taking The Nips on a walk.” Breast self exam? “It’s Jane Fonda time for The Nips. Work it, baby!”
- Rainbow is licking his penis (because he can), Blindie is licking her arm and Wormy Kitty is licking the crate gate. I am surrounded by saliva. It ain’t pretty.
Heard that song on Pandora yesterday and apparently, it was foretelling. The following was my day. And it isn’t over yet.
It was cool early this morning, so I was walking up and down the street while I was talking to the non-BF on the phone. Saw a neighbor’s dogs out in their backyard and without even thinking, I went up to the fence and stuck my hand over to pet them. The alpha bitch totally bit my ring finger, broke the skin and bruised it. Now I have done enough dog rescue to know that it is really STUPID to do such a thing, but I just wasn’t thinking. Talked to the owner later and was assured that they were all up to date on their shots – said that because of the breed, he had all the paperwork, etc. I’m quite sure he thought I was going to sue him. Nope, I just apologized for my utter stupidity and went home. What kind of fucking idiot goes up to a barking dog in its own backyard and tries to pet it? Me, that’s who.
I can’t help it. I love dogs and I really love Pitties. Did the same thing several years ago to my neighbor’s Dachshund and still have the scar to prove it. Fucking dumbass.
Had to break up three dog fights in under an hour later this morning. Mr. Tail was visiting and Blindie kept picking fights with him when he tried to get next to the foster kitty’s crate. Blindie “guards” the kitty by sitting in front of the crate and snapping at anyone who comes near, including me.
By the way, that “spider bite”? Not only is it not lethal, it isn’t a spider bite. The foster cat has ringworm. Now so do I. No good deed goes unpunished. At least I can color coordinate the monkey bandages with my outfits next week. Always look on the bright side of life, right?
By the way, don’t use Lysol on your skin if you are worried about something spreading. Anti-bacterial soap is enough. My skin is itching so badly now, I’m like that bitch in the ABC After School Special who took those drugs, started screaming “The worms! They are under my skin!” and leapt out of a second story window. That shit really dries out your skin! I cannot find any body lotion, so I’m using a tiny pot of $25 lip balm to salvage my arm skin. Fuck.
Ran an errand in a dicey part of DFW and got laughed at by what I can only assume was a cheap hooker and her “date.” Bitch, please! I was sporting a super cute ocean blue sundress with matching Coach cork platforms, my dog bite and my monkey bandages on my chest. She had electric blue eyeshadow from fake lashes to brow, day-glow tennis shoes and stretch pants in an off-black snakeskin print that barely covered her huge ass. She and her “date” were buying vodka and a jug of orange juice. They took off in a Mercedes and I thought to myself, “If the car is a rocking, don’t come a knocking.” Classy.
I’m toally going to bed before anything else goes wrong!
“Gobble! Gobble!” Only Bunny will get this shit. No way I’ll be a peacock!
Had a really cool temp working for me this week while the Office Mate was on vacation. By the second day, I realized we are a LOT alike. We’ve had some good conversations in between all the work we’ve been doing. Today, during a break, she and I were talking about shopping. She asked what I liked to shop for.
Me: Clothes, jewelry, shoes, scarves, accessories, makeup and skincare. Um, and books that I will never read. Oh yeah, and I love to window shop rescue sites for tiny dogs.
Cool Temp: Oh, that sounds fun! You sound like me. My big thing is shoes, though.
Me: Some of the shit I bought still has their prices tags on them. It’s shameful.
Cool Temp: I love shoes. There was an intervention before we moved into the house we own now. I gave away probably 30 pairs of shoes that I never even wore. I still had the receipts in the boxes.
Me: Why didn’t I know you then?
Me: I’m on my third closet in my house. Well, they are smallish but still. Makes it difficult to pick my outfits in the morning.
Cool Temp: I’m on my fourth. My husband made me go through those shoes and get rid of them.
Me: So sad for you! Hey, do you ever just go into your closet and STARE AT STUFF? I love looking at my purchases. It’s pretty twisted.
I’m a suck fuck, I know. Now that I am on Forced Financial Austerity Campaign (well, I am if I want to save money to buy my Mini next year), it’s a damned shame. I’d totally want to go shopping with her! Where was she a couple years ago, damn it?!
Speaking of the Forced Financial Austerity Campaign (or “I’m Fucked” for short), that really starts tomorrow. (Mom, if you are reading this, NO, I did NOT go shopping, except for maybe an adult beverage.) After the hectic week I’ve had (possible aerial poisoning, exposure to ringworm, nasty fucking spider bite right above my left boob where everyone can see it (the bite, not the boob), realization that I cannot keep up compulsive shopping if I want to get my new car, and being pretty much getting slammed at work), I need a drink. Fuck the diet tonight. Must be in the air because the non-BF said the exact same thing!
The Cool Temp also asked me what my sign was. No, not in a creepy-old-guy-wearing-an-open-shirt-and-gold-chain-throwback-to-the-70s-hipster-doofus kind of way. I think she was trying to peg what my multiple-personality personality was. Good luck with that, hon.
Me: I’m a Pisces Queen. I have just about every quality that is Piscean. (Fuck, is “Piscean” even a real word?) Except for the introverted part. I’ll talk to anyone. Wasn’t like that when I was younger, though. [Very obvious that I didn’t do my homework!]
Cool Temp: Makes sense. Pisces and Aquarius get along really well.
Found out she was born on the same day as one of my best friends was (Valentines babies!) and they both have the same first name. If the non-BF ever read this blog and stumbled across this post, he’d ask, “What, are we girlfriends now?” [I love Kevin Spacey and Denis Leary, and that still is one of my all-time favorite movies!]
On the subject of movies, another favorite is “Home For The Holidays.” I LOVE fucked-up, dysfunctional family movies, and Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Plus I really like Holly Hunter and that crazy Robert Downey, Jr. “Go back to your own goddamned holidays!” Man, that is my childhood.
I just looked up Pisces characteristics and I am nothing like them at ALL. I still swear I was switched at birth and now I think my mom changed the date on my birth certificate. My mom still insists, “No, you are mine,” and always with an air of resignation.
Okay, well some of it fits. But this???
“Pisces needs a dominant partner of role model in their life or they will very easily fall into a pit of self-pity and self-undoing. When they are independent and inspired by life’s events, their creativity comes shining through but they are unable to be on their own for long before they start dreaming in their imaginary world of happy people and happy endings. They need other people to keep them grounded and on the right track.” From HERE
WTFEver. I’m probably one of the most independent bitches you will ever meet. That quality in and of itself ended a LOT of relationships over the years. And the “Pisces and Business” shit? No way. This, however, is spot on:
“Pisces is the sign of mysticism, mystery and the spiritual unknown. Pisces live in two worlds, the real world and the spiritual or mystical world where they interpret what they see into what they want [I live in about four or five worlds, by the way]. They do this to avoid all the realities of pain and suffering in the world. They have extremes of emotions and feel both good and bad intensively. Pisces have formidable intuitive ability.”
Except that I avoid the realities of pain and suffering by being a smartass, having cocktails and going shopping. Oh shit. “I’m Fucked.”
Until my late twenties, I was pretty shy and not at all comfortable talking to strangers or doing things on my own. A then-friend forced me out of this shell and she unleashed a lion. Now, I’ll pretty much talk to anybody and everybody, even if they don’t want me to.
[Try traveling about 25-40% of each month – that will get you over the old “I don’t wanna eat by myself” fucking self-pitying whining!]
So yeah, I visit one of my local favorite restaurants for lunch today. I’m always happy when they seat me next to a large party because I’m nosy as hell and love to eavesdrop. This restaurant buys one of those monthly song system things and they change up the CDs accordingly. I’m trying to stop inhaling my food (since I almost ALWAYS wait too late to eat and my blood sugar forces me to eat like a starved person who is served a filet mignon), and I take a break from inhaling my salad to listen to the music on the CD that is being blasted into the restaurant like I am in a concert.
Had to text Bunny…
Apparently, I have a priblem with the Os in my keybiard.
I totally have a mosquito bite on my ass cheek. While I am waiting to succumb to this illness, I am TOTALLY ordering in some bon bons and watching Law & Order reruns while waiting to die. Not really, you serious fucks. I’m actually waiting to see if the fucking spider bite I have is lethal.
I am so glad and so VERY blessed that my mom really overlooks all that is wrong with me and loves and accepts my “weirdness.” P.S. She actually embraces that SHIT!
Okay, so the Blog Immodium didn’t work and y’all are getting two posts today, but “a few blogposts a day keeps the doctor away.” As well as the cops. Kinda helps me not punch anyone in the face.
UPDATED: Well, not really two posts in one day..I started writing this before I fell asleep after possibly subjecting myself to aerial poison. More on that later.
I FUCKING HATE CAPTCHA.
I was reading comments on this post, and when I tried to respond to one, fucking blogspot made me do a captcha. While I totally get why – it’s to protect us (“I’m a robot, I’m a robot!”), except it doesn’t protect non’s ass from some bitch in Brazil who keeps spamming my comments with shit so yeah captcha, you FAIL– but fucking HELL, can’t they make the bunched up letters and numbers a little less bunched-the-fuck-up?
Took me five captchas before my comment was published. By that time, I was just about to say “Fuck it,” and move on.
I probably need new glasses.
I was on the phone with my mom and heard all this raucus at the back door. Rainbow was outside and I figured he saw a doodle bug and it scared him or something. So I open up the back door and there are fucking feathers EVERYWHERE. Rainbow got one of the neighbor’s hens, but being smarter than your average chicken, that bitch played possum and survived. I even got to pet it when I went to tell the neighbor it was possibly near death in their front yard. Good chicken! Bad Rainbow!
I think I’m switching from first aid tape to duct tape. That first aid tape shit doesn’t stick to itself very well. Does duct tape come in colors other than gray?
On the phone with my mom again. I said “fuck” one too many times, I suppose, because she chastised me with “Watch your language!” What the hell am I, twelve??
I found out the place I’m moving to next summer does not allow “farm animals.” So no goat for me (insert sad face here). I wonder if I gave the pygmy goat a jeweled collar, dressed it in a really cute outfit and called it Trixie, they might think it would pass for a “domesticated animal?”
This waking up at 3 a.m. and falling asleep at 5 only to wake up at 6 is totally jacking up my day. Especially now with very little caffeine..
They are spraying for West Nile virus tonight and tomorrow night. We are basically QUARANTINED for the next eight hours. I hope that stray kitty outside who lives under my porch is okay.
I just spent an hour outside with the fucking stray, trying to coax that bitch inside. I count four bites and goddamnit, if I die from this shit, know I did it trying to save yet another fucking stray. If I were to be buried, y’all could put that shit on my tombstone! Fortunately, I’m set to be cremated. Just sprinkle my ashes on a pile of dog shit, that would make me happy.
Not really. I want a fucking shrine, y’all. And it better be pink.
Since I can’t sleep, I seem to have blogarrhea and you all are my Immodium. Sorry in advance for this shit.
- When I first brought Trouble’s box of ashes home, I set it up on a table and Mr. Swirly would just sit and stare at it for HOURS. I thought that was so cool – he missed his brother. After moving the box a few months later, I noticed Mr. Swirly would sit and stare at
the same spotnothing for HOURS. Now I know he was just crazy.
- It’s sad because there isn’t another crazy dog here to stare at Mr. Swirly’s ashes now. Just a dog who is afraid of his own shadow and one that cannot see.
- Today, I drove by an old Pizza Hut that has been converted MANY times into independent restaurants. Catfish place – four times. Chicken place – twice. Soul Food place – I think maybe three times. I saw that it had one name on the marquee and a different one on the side of the building. Painted on the window was “Now Open…For REAL.” Classy.
- Damn the rain, or I would have taken a picture.
- Started a discussion today with “Of course, I have an Excel spreadsheet for this.” There really needs to be an intervention.
- My right eye has been all crazy with allergies and tearing up for the past week. At the end of each day, I look like Malcolm McDowell in Clockwork Orange .
- For years, I swore the plural of “penis” was “peni” but I just now looked it up because deep down, I knew I was wrong, I just really liked that word. There are two plural forms of the word: penises (so boring) and penes (pronounced pe-neez, much better). Even so, I still prefer my made-up version.
- P.S. You don’t want to know what ads pop up on dictionary.com when you look up that word. “How To Get a Hard On”?? You need instructions? Sheesh!
- It’s sometimes a little awkward when you aren’t the one to end the phone call.
- I fell asleep in the den and woke up in the middle of the night. Besides the sofa I am lying on, there is a love seat and a chaise lounge, plus another love seat in the next room. The furbrats have plenty of other places to sleep, so why are they up my ass right now??
- Manufacturers of first aid tape need to get on the ball and start making colored tape for my Probably Broken Toe. Even though it is summer, this white shit is not coordinating with most of my outfits, damn it!
- Since I am limiting my caffeine intake to 1-2 caffeinated drinks a day, I have to choose wisely. (The sugar free Red Bulls were making me physically ill, but I guess that happens when you drink 4-6 of them a DAY.) One week in, I am suprisingly okay and not really that cranky. And I only get headaches now when I exceed my limit. Weird.
- When I was little, my goal was to be Queen of the World. Being older and wiser, a more realistic goal was to be Queen of My Own World. Having accomplished that, I am wondering now where the FUCK is my tiara??
- I also need a Court Jester…For REAL.
Note to self: Tweezing should never be done when you’ve had very little sleep and no caffeine. I’m sure I’ll have vision in my left eye again soon. I hope.
I am going to have to just suck it up and make this Totally Random Monday from now on, I suppose. No excuse this time. Sorry, y’all!
UPDATED: Okay, I fell asleep in the middle of writing this. Guess it’s Tuesday after all. No mea culpa necessary.
- I often buy cosmetics simply for the packaging or name of the color. [OPI’s “I’m Not Really A Waitress” is one of my personal favorites.] Then I give them away when I don’t like them. My friends just LOVE me! Need a new mascara? Let’s go to non’s house. That bitch has a bag full of them!
- While I was digging through The Black Hole (aka my gargantuan purse), I found a walnut. What the fuck? I also found a catnip toy (I don’t have a cat), five buttons, someone’s phone number on a slip of paper with “Call me!” and three hearts next to it in very obvious girly handwriting (???), Mr. Swirly’s collar, a golf tee, some potato chips and a dollar bill with “Who loves ya, baby?” Sharpie’d across the bottom of it. I am not a packrat in any part of my life except for my purse.
- Just looked at the “walnut” again and damn if it isn’t a rock shaped like a walnut. Or else a petrified walnut. Why the hell do I have a rock in my purse? What am I, three years old?
- Ain’t no way in hell any squirrel will crack through that shit!
- I had a Me Weekend this past weekend (meaning the non-BF and I couldn’t be bothered enough to figure out a way to see each other, except for Friday night). Since I hadn’t washed my hair on Sunday, I decided to poof it up in the back using my hand and the leftover hair products from Saturday. Ended up looking like I had three Bumpits in my hair.
- I totally took a bath, y’all, I just didn’t bother submerging.
- When we go on road trips, I make the non-BF suffer through two or three CDs of the worst possible music mixes in the entire world. Finally, he says, “Enough!” and takes over. Even so, he always laughs at the hand motions I have for “Tarzan Boy.”
- I love that song. And I’m not afraid to admit it.
- I can talk other people into and myself out of almost anything. Years ago, a then-boyfriend told me I had missed my calling and should have been a lawyer. I responded by telling him I still wanted to have a soul.
- Blindie never really feels the insulin injection I give her, but because I usually say, “Quick stick!” she always carries on like I cut off her paw or something. The apples don’t fall far from the tree in this house. We are ALL a bunch of Drama Queens here. Especially Rainbow.
- Inspired by the aforementioned Bumpit bullet point, I have been poofing up the hair on the back of my head for the past half hour. I got it so high, if I colored it with blue Kool-Aid, I swear I’d look just like Marge Simpson. Only without the cartoon character face. And the two chain-smoking sisters.
- Bunny asked me today when my Austerity Campaign was ever going to get underway. God bless her, she actually believes that shit!
- Tomorrow, Bunny. Tomorrow is a good day. Nothing started on a Tuesday ever turned out badly. Okay, I’m laughing out loud right now.
- Drove past the new outlet mall today. Took a left turn and went in for a spin. I consider it a major success that I left without even parking. Progress, bitches. PROGRESS.
- While I appreciate good food, I totally look at eating from an utilitarian perspective. Being hypoglycemic, it’s a necessity. If I don’t want to pass out or drive into a strip mall, that is.
- I’d like to thank my mom for squeezing me out of her uterus many moons ago. So I’m told, I was a “darling” child until I hit 15, and then I got mouthy and got an opinion. Thank God for all concerned that only lasted a couple of years. The mouthy part, not the opinion. Truth be told, I had an opinion since the day I could talk.
- I am worse than a pregnant woman when it comes to cravings. I drove 15 miles one way to get a chicken salad sandwich for lunch on Monday.
- Nothing is more beautiful to me than my dogs while they are sleeping. Blindie just curls up into a ball and doesn’t make a sound. Rainbow dreams out loud (like his momma) and often kicks one or both of his legs (again, like his momma). I wouldn’t know about Mr. Tail, since the non-BF has been hoarding him for the past three weeks. I miss him.
- Every now and then, life comes along and kicks you in the ass. Pay attention to that shit. It’s the universe telling you what to do next.