I used to be really obsessed with brushing my teeth. I’d brush them when I woke up, after breakfast, before I left for work, at lunch, when I got home from work and right before I went to bed. I had a toothbrush and toothpaste in my purse, in my desk and a spare at my parents’ house. Honestly, I’m surprised I have any gums left. Now I only do it four times a day.Progress.
My mom has started reading my blog again. Mostly, I think that’s cool, because now that she knows how to text, she gets all smartass and funny on me about my posts. About 3% of me thinks it might be a bit dangerous, though. It was bad enough when she was stalking me on Facebook.
Found another scrap of paper in my purse today. I believe from the paper it was written on that it came from our last vacation. Me: Look at my poor broken toe. The non-BF: (Just a look) Me: Chut up, Charita, I am totally going to get as much mileage out of this as possible. Nothing ever happens to me. The non-BF: Oh, something’s about to happen to you on this trip, all right. I brought along a baseball bat.
Much like a Keeping Up With The Kardashians marathon, watching only one episode of Hoarders makes me feel so much better about my life!
Yesterday was one of those days where I just could not find anything to eat that appealed to me. Well, except for the extremely fattening fast food breakfast I had. “I would like an order of grease with some fat on the side, please.” It took every fiber in my being not to throw up from what was probably about 10,000 calories I ingested.
Had a healthy breakfast this morning, however. Then I go and fuck it up by eating chicken salad on a damned croissant. I fail.
P.S. to the dumbass in front of me in line at lunch: Make up your fucking mind on what else you want to eat before you get to the checkout, idiot. I stood behind her for FIVE MINUTES while she asked about different items. She already had five items on her tray, so Miss Piggy, I think that was really enough, you don’t need anything else. P.P.S. Have your “method of payment” ready when you go to pay, don’t be digging around in your makeup bag for loose change, bitch. She was as bad as those old people who stand in line for ten minutes at the grocery store, staring off into space, then wait to WRITE A CHECK after everything is rung up.
I really do NOT get Charmin’s “enjoy the go” commercial. We are talking about shitting here, people. Let’s not sugarcoat it.
This episode of Hoarders is making me sick to my stomach. They found FOUR DEAD CATS in this crazy woman’s house. One was under a three foot pile of adult diapers. Used ones. I’m assuming they were the crazy lady’s diapers.
My hair was about 15 kinds of messed up today. I totally pulled it off by saying that the Jonesing Crack Whore Do was absolutely the look I was going for.
The bad thing about IBS is that my poop waits for no one. It’s really a crap shoot, so to speak. I’ve become an expert about know where the nearest bathroom is at all times.
TOTALLY watching “Titanic” for the umpteenth time tonight. My poor, poor dogs.
During a meeting this afternoon, I received THIRTEEN texts from the non-BF. After the meeting, I called him and said, “I’m in a meeting – can you stop sending texts!” We both just laughed and laughed.
On the way back to the office from that meeting today, I passed a van with “ASAP Expediters” painted on the side. Since I left it behind three or four times in my tiny little crap car, they don’t seem to be too effective at their job.
My Grumpy Friend has not called me since that day. If I was really going to piss her off, I might as well have texted “Lighten up, Frances” after all. I hate wasted opportunities.
I still remember exactly where I was when the second plane hit the other tower: Unemployed, just got in from a night at the non-BF’s, probably still a little drunk. Later that day, I called my soon-to-be boss and commented on how terrible it was. New Boss: What is? I swear, to this day, I don’t know how anyone could not have been glued to their TV. I was for a week. Kinda helped that I didn’t have a job at the time, though.
What the HELL is it with puppy paws and them smelling like Fritos? I swear, you could serve up my dogs with some bean dip and have a fucking PARTY.
Six months before, almost to the day, I was on AA flight 11 out of Boston. That’s when I started choking at 33,000 feet and had to be given oxygen. I freaked out when I heard the flight number on September 11, 2001.
This quitting smoking thing is not going so well. Perhaps I should try aversion therapy. I could just hire someone to smack me in the face every time I light up.
I don’t know why I smoke anyway. I don’t inhale.
Back in the old non-girlfriend days, there was a fellow blogger who called herself Princess Steph. She was always writing about all these guys she slept with (more like a courtesan than a princess, really). My blog-stalker at the time, Nein, would respond to her comments and would start his response by calling her “Staph.” She never seemed to get it but I laughed my ass off every time I saw that.
I smell sex and candy here.
If I’m honest, I smell dogs, sweat and hairspray, but that sounded so less hot than the above.
I have a friend who works in property management. Occasionally, I will call her, disguise my voice and ask about renting an apartment. “Miss, I will be having strange men coming and going all hours of the day and night. That won’t pose a problem for you, will it?” The first time, she didn’t realize it was me at the beginning, and I have to tell you that she handled the call so well, I was tempted to call her boss and demand that he give her a raise. Today, I left her a voice mail. This time: “I would like to rent an apartment. I have 17 cats, three birds, a tiny pig and a very fat tortoise. What would my pet deposit be?” She called me back about 30 minutes later, laughing, and said, “I’m in a meeting – can you stop sending texts!”
Two weeks down and two or four weeks to go on the Wormy Kitty’s ringworm treatment, and then I can release her from the Kitty Prison. I just know that the first night she is free, she is going to smother me in my sleep for keeping her locked up for so long!
Every now and then, Rainbow goes up to the Kitty Prison all cautious like and then barks and runs away. I give it one day before he’s Wormy Kitty’s bitch when she gets out.
Just like how my hair always looks fabulous when I have no place to go, I always seem to get a zit right before I have any kind of meeting. Today, my hair looked like shit and if the zit on my forehead popped up about three inches lower on my face, you could have called me Rudolph.
Got carded buying wine after work. I chuckled as I handed the clerk my ID. He took a look at the birth date and said, “OH.” I responded with, “Yeah OH.” He swore to me that he didn’t mean it that way. “I did,” I said. “Some days I feel older than others.” He was kind enough to tell me I certainly don’t look my age. It must have been the zit.