My weekend felt long but was super short in reality. I really didn’t get much done except one huge task. On the other hand, I did eat my way through about 1/4 of my weight in shellfish, and I had some lovely bread along the way.
Someday, I’ll go too far, and the shellfish allergy will overtake me. You heard it in here that all my jewelry goes to my mom for distribution, and the rest of you bitches can fight it out for my clothes, shoes, accessories and purses! The scarves belong in whole to Cherry.
So, yes, I spent half the day Saturday and ALL DAY Sunday washing blankets. The dogs’ blankets. Lazy motherfuckers just sat there and watched me do it, too. P.S. to Rainbow: You better stop pissing on stuff or the diapers are coming back and I AM SO SERIOUS ABOUT THAT SHIT!
Some vows are stronger than others. To me, these are the vows of girlfriends. Those transcend any situation in life and they live on, tying us together and never letting us forget we are one in the night, that we aren’t really ever far away from one another. I go on quality, not quantity. There are about four or five true good girlfriends I can really count on, and I feel better each day knowing that they are there for me, no matter what. Perhaps you have more (good for YOU!), but I think four or five is about all I’ll ever need in my lifetime. I hope those bitches know they can count on me, too, til the end of my days. I love you all.
My current ridiculous obsessions: Window shopping for sweaters and “removing” the scab in my left nostril that won’t seem to heal (probably because I keep removing the scab, duh – idiot!). Why are these obsessions ridiculous? (1) It gets cold here in Dallas about three days out of the year so what is up with all these sweaters? and (b) even though I don’t want to look like I have a bloody booger hanging out of my nose, if it is ever going to fully heal, I need to leave that fucker alone.
My mom and dad finally consented to take a vacation with me and the non-BF. This makes me as happy as a clam who didn’t get picked for dodgeball by moving an inch away from the digger’s foot. My mom seems excited. My dad? I keep checking for a pulse. Oh well, I’m sure he will get more enthusiastic as the date draws nearer.
In some cultures, it is considered rude not to burp after a good meal. I wish American culture would pick up on this shit – it’s a grand idea. It would save me from saying “Excuse me!” about 20 times a day. (I don’t eat 20 times a day, but I sure as hell burp about seven or eight times after each meal.)
My new website should be ready soon. It’s already ready, if you must know the truth, just a little tweaking needs to be done. It’s pink, by the way. (Reader: But of course it is!)
I’d like feedback if you would, when I finally get it to go live.
What is it with me and
skinny slender no-fat-all-muscle, dark-haired singers? Between Scott Weiland (a long-time favorite), Nick Hexum (another long-timer) and Adam Levine (just recently developed the hots for him), I guess I have a “type.” And yes, this seems to be it. Or this.
I ordered a sweater online and it arrived today, so I tried it on and asked the Office Mate if it was too small on me. The look on her face told me, yeah, maybe. So I told her, “Be honest…” She said it bunched up on my back and I’m like, “Well, that’s better than it being stretched out like this!” and I pulled it really tight around my waist. She just laughed. Later she told me that she just didn’t like the pattern. Me: Well, hell, I don’t care what you think about the pattern – because I like it – but how the hell does it fit? Apparently, it fits fine, so it’s not going back.
She got a kick out of “I don’t care what you think about the pattern.” (Really?? In the two years that she’s known me, when have I ever given a shit if someone liked my outfit, as long as I didn’t look FAT in it?) I told her nothing needs to match anymore, so get over the fact that my pants totally clashed with the sweater. It’s not as though I’ll be pairing the two together anytime in the near future, anyway. But when I do, it will look fabulous!
Wormy Kitty is evil. I still believe that she is plotting to smother me with her paws during the night. She likes to bite, too. I look like I stumbled into a briar patch!
I asked the non-BF how long this biting “stage” would last. Him: Oh. about two years. Me: (rolls eyes and sighs) Is that why you wanted me to keep the kitty?
P.S. Wormy Kitty sure as hell eats a lot. She shits more than any animal I’ve ever seen, next to Mr. Swirly.
Several days ago, I made
cell mutation juice a gin & diet tonic with a heavy splash of cranberry juice cocktail. I took one sip and then we had to go somewhere, and rather than waste totally decent alcohol, I scooped out the ice cubes and stuck the glass in my freezer. Totally forgot about it until yesterday and then I open the door to a nice surprise – wheeeee! it was like an adult snowcone!!! So tonight I’m trying a G&DT with some Fanta Grape soda. It’s pretty white trash sounding but I’m hoping it will be yummy enough that I’ll be able to serve it at parties without ridicule. (The Pickletinis were a huge hit, even though I was surrounded by doubters before the first sip!) It won’t be ready until tomorrow night, though.
The way I look at it, this could go one of two ways: Either I discover a new way to savor a cold drink in this hot Texas summer, or else it’s a Tanqueray and Vomit. I’ll keep you posted.
- Sorry I didn’t do “Favorite Fridays” today but I’ve been out of town on business all week and I haven’t had a chance to shave my legs, let alone read the other blogs. Sigh.
- My mom told me something about someone she knew having a hard time at home, and how they had gained some weight. She thought it was Stress Eating. I tell my mom: Self-medication. We all do it, whether it’s by eating, drinking, drugging or shopping. My mom: Yes, we all do. Me: I’m taking my daily dosage right now! My mom: I thought you said you had stopped drinking?? Me: No, I said I would stop wasting money on booze. I stole this bottle.
- Shhh! I really didn’t, but it did make her laugh, and she looked like she needed it this evening.
- The other day, I made an offhand remark to someone I really like without thinking (I do that about once a year) and I hurt her feelers. An email came to me several hours later (What took you so long, bitch??) and she called my ass on the aforementioned horrible
behaviorspeech via email. I cry if I know I’ve really hurt someone’s feelings, so I call her all bawly and shit and she’s like, “I’m okay, we’re good.” Then I tell her not to wait so long to straighten my shit out the next time (hope there isn’t a”next time!”) and I go back and re-read her email after the phone call. “Put yourself in MY shoes,” she wrote, “even if they aren’t Coach.” Had to laugh my ass off on that one AND write her back: “Coach” comment was pretty snarky and bitchy…well done, YOU! I’m only sad I didn’t come up with it myself!
- While I was on the business trip, I ate the same damned meal three nights in a row. I’m like a dog – find a good path in the backyard, I’ll keep taking it. Dayumn! but those crab cakes were GOOD.
- I finally bought a Clarisonic for my face/body. The girl at the Clinique counter talked me into it with a free carrying case and well, hell! just because it was TIME. She was doing a hard sell on the one-speed and I thought, what the fuck? a two-speed is just $30 more, so I caved. I tried to show it to my mom tonight when she stopped by to see the Wormy Kitty, and I was all, “It’s broken. Mine’s broken. What the hell? I have to take it back!!” My ever-so-calm mother asked for the instructions and pointed out that it has to charge for at least 24 hours before the first use. “It’s in bold, black letters.” Thanks a LOT, mom, for not only making me feel stupid but for also having skin that doesn’t need a Clarisonic. I swear, I was CHEATED when God gave me my skin. My mom could pass for about 20 years younger than she really is!
- Texas is not a place to go camping. With all these fucking mosquitos, all you have to do is roll over on a tick in your sleeping bag and you have West Nile Virus with a twist of Lyme Disease.
- Bought a muzzle for Rainbow for when he is going to be out with Wormy Kitty, because he really seems to want to GNAW on her. I put a pink camo bandanna on him and he seems to have calmed down somewhat.
- So the Probably Broken Toe, which seems to be now something much more serious, has caused me to limp so much that I pulled a muscle in the other fucking foot. I will most likely need a cane (which will complete my Becoming A Crotchety Old Woman) if this keeps up!
- I asked my mom tonight if she thought it was MS. I don’t even know what MS is, but it sounds bad. She just shook her head and told me to stay off the internet for a while.
- While the non-BF and I had Wormy Kitty out last night (P.S. she is no longer wormy but I can’t shake that name, it’s too awesome!), we noticed that Rainbow sat at the foot of the bed while Blindie and Mr. Tail played with Wormy Kitty. The non-BF: Look! Rainbow is now The Incredible Sulk!
- Out of all of the kittens in the WORLD that I could rescue, I rescue the Crazy Insane Serial Killer Kitty. That motherfucker (now worm-free!) is plotting to smother me in my sleep and eat my hair. The raucus in the other room, well, I just don’t think she is ready for Prime Time yet.
- Whoa! All the animals are quiet now. I’m afraid. Very afraid.
- I wish for a real winter this year so all the mosquitos and other bugs will die. I hate bugs with a passion. All these idiots around here who hate cold weather need to shut it this year. I’m sick of worrying that each time I take the dogs out, a West Nile Virus mosquito will get me.
- When I kill a bug, I have to use about eight paper towels to pick its dead body up with. Not one – no, that might mean I’d feel its crunchy, nasty, broken bug body through the paper towel. I also have to Lysol the floor and surrounding areas (just in case some bug juice got there, too).
- If I see a bug, I squeal like a little girl. I know, pathetic. I’m pretty independent but I’ve been known to call my mommy and daddy to come kill bugs for me. I tried that with the non-BF once and he just sighed and told me he was going to bed. My charm works most of the time, but a 30 minute drive to kill a spider? I don’t think so. (I will still try anyway…never hurts to ask.)
- I don’t even know why bugs were ever created. What fucking purpose do they serve, other than to annoy me and make my skin crawl, and to keep exterminators employed? Maybe bugs were created on the Seventh Day, when God took a rest. Some rebel angel thought, “Hey, let’s mess with the humans and give them this shit!”
- Looked at the bottom of my foot just now and realized I am overdue for a pedicure even though I had one less than two weeks ago. SO ready for fall to be here where I can switch to boots and flats and not have to worry about my crusty-ass feet! I still shave my legs every day, even in the winter. I’m not that gross, thank you very much!
- No offense to those of you who don’t in the winter. I just cannot stand to have hairy legs. I probably could skip a day or two, though. It takes forever for the hair to grow back on my legs. Should really look into laser hair removal, I know.
- Was at a dinner party this past weekend. When we arrived, I poked the non-BF and pointed at a tall vase sitting on the floor of the host/hostess’ house. It was about 1/3 full of wine corks. I told the non-BF, “See? I’m not the only one who does that!” (I have several vases in my house with all these different wine corks in them. They’re pretty – try it.) The non-BF, to the hostess: I have a friend who has his guests sign the cork and he dates them. You know, if it is a special event. We all agreed it was a clever way to document good
drinkingentertaining memories. I thought to myself but thankfully didn’t add to the conversation that mine would all look like: (2 corks) “9-3-12, non-GF, it was a Monday“, (4 corks) “8-31-12, non-GF, full moon”, or (3 corks) “5-15-12, non-GF, an old woman gave me a dirty look at the grocery store today.”
- When people see my Lushy Wino Cork Vases for the first time, they always exclaim, “WOW, that’s a lot of wine you’ve had!” I give them the Stink Eye because it’s not like I collected all of them in one month or anything. It took me two.
- Rainbow likes to bite his own toenails. Yep, pretty disgusting and also quite unusual – I don’t know anyone else who has a dog that does that. He will sit and snack on them like he is gnawing on a log of wood or something. I tried painting Rainbow’s toenails once but he only let me get by with doing two of them. It bugged the shit out of me that he walked around like that for a week.
- When I go on vacation, I always pack a few workout outfits because yeah, I’m going to be more dedicated to doing that shit when I’m on vacation than I am in real life. Dumbass. That’s just more room for shoes!
- At least I stopped carrying an extra suitcase for shoes. My Vacation Suitcase (as opposed to my Work Travel Suitcase) can fit a smallish woman in it. I know because I climbed inside to see if I could when I first got it. Even so, I still needed an extra suitcase for my shoes. Or so I thought. The last vacation, I didn’t do that because I got sick of the non-BF bitching about all my luggage (that he ended up carrying, ha!). So I thought I’d be nice and scale it down a bit. He spent 10 minutes at the airport moving shit from my Large Enough To Stow A Dead Body bag into his small bag so I wouldn’t have to pay $100 for an over the weight limit suitcase. He’s so sweet like that. Next trip, hon, I promise I’ll be better!
- When he gets a little too grumpy about it, I remind him he could be traveling with Kate Winslet on the Titanic. That usually shuts him up. Only because he typically won’t respond to the more absurd things I say.
- I’m so OCD that years ago, I used to keep a Clothing Diary so I wouldn’t wear the same outfit in a month. Once, a guy I was hanging out with found it and wrote the next day’s date in the diary, then penned “Red dress again.” I was so pissed off at the time. I thank God and the Clothing Fairy that I grew up because now, I’d snap a photo of that shit and post it on Facebook. It was funny. And yes, I was way too uptight back then.
- I no longer keep a Clothing Diary, by the way. The Compulsive Shopping Illness I have has kind of taken care of me ever having to worry about that again.
- No, I don’t have a spreadsheet for my clothes. But it’s a grand idea, thanks!
Let the dogs outside this morning and a cicada buzzed me and flopped onto the porch. I knew I should have kicked it off but I was trying to be nice. When I opened the door to go back in, the motherfucker flew inside! I found it sitting on my china cabinet and tried to knock it off onto the floor. It buzzed all around me so naturally, I ran around the dining room screaming. Surprised the neighbors didn’t call the police, except they’ve probably heard worse coming from my house. The nasty little bastard was sitting on top of a picture frame on my dining room wall and I had to take an alternate route to get to my bathroom and shower.
I wonder if hornet spray would do the job?
UPDATED: Yes, it does. Hornet spray also takes the paint off walls and will ruin not only a picture frame but the print inside it. I highly recommend just whacking the little shit instead, I don’t care how afraid you are to get close to it.
At lunch yesterday, I decided I would text several friends and let them know I declared Wednesday I Will Only Text In Spanish Day. No, I didn’t do one of those annoying group messages, I sent out individual texts with “!Hoy, sólo estoy enviando textos en español!” which Google Translate assures me is “Today, I’m just sending texts in Spanish!” I’m lazy so I didn’t reverse translate it. (By the way, I just now did and shame on you Google Translate, it really converts to “Today, I’m just sending Spanish texts!” Anyway, yeah, basically what I meant to say, so I don’t really fucking care.)
Out of the seven or eight very special people who were lucky enough to receive such a meaningful text from me, only four responded. The rest of you are slackards! Three thought it was funny (of COURSE mi madre, Bunny and Cherry were game, even if Cherry had to bow out of responding after two badly butchered Spanish texts came back to me…she had a meeting to go to). The fourth was mi amiga who responded with your typical, Hey I Don’t Think You Meant To Text This To Me text.
If someone texts me back, I assume it’s open season and I can respond in turn. (When I can’t have a text “conversation,” I always send a quick, “Sorry, can’t talk, call ya later!”) So I did write back, explaining that yes, the text was for her and it was because it was I Will Only Text In Spanish Day. Did I write my next five texts to her in Espanol? You bet your fucking Hostess Ding Dongs I did!
Next thing I know, she was calling me but since I was inhaling my salad and I didn’t want to choke on my food for the second day in a row, I hit the “Decline” button (or as I like to call it, “Denied!”) Texted her that I would call her later.
“I’m in a meeting…can you please stop texting!”
So I absolutely had to text her back with “Sorry” (and I even wrote it in English, that’s how nice I am!). Good thing I didn’t go with my first choice for a response: “Lighten up, Frances.” (Again with the movie quotes???)
Or my second: Besar el culo. (Ha ha, if you are reading this, mi amiga, just kidding!)
Oh MY. Just look at what I found!
Went to dinner tonight with a great couple I met through the non-BF. We were eating at a 5-star Japanese restaurant and while I am not a huge fan of the noodle, these were pretty fucking awesome. But for starters, I wanted to try the white seaweed salad. Had heard it was a must so I ordered one to start my dinner. No possible way to describe it fully – suffice it to say it was crunchy in a springy, sort of bouncy way. Very tasty, too.
When it seemed we were finished and were ready to leave, I was told to go to the bathroom. Not that I was farting at the table or anything, they just said I had to at least look at the bathroom before I left. So the girl half of the couple and I go and the first thing I noticed was the sheer glass doors that were on the stalls. “But you can see through it!” I told her. (I have a hard enough time peeing in a public restroom, but if people can actually watch me do it, I just might die.) She showed me how the glass becomes frosted when you turn the lock. How fucking c-o-o-l is that?
I stepped inside, turned the lock, put down my two strips of toilet paper and sat down on this rather interesting looking toilet. Over to my left, right above the teepee roll, there was a panel with buttons. Stop, Rear Wash, Rear Wash (Soft), Front Wash and Fan. Oh shit (no pun intended), this was going to be fun! Even though I didn’t need it, I pushed the Rear Wash (Soft) first. Some mechanical sounds then WHOOSH! – my ass got gently sprayed with warm water. Not able to help myself, I laughed so loud I am quite sure they heard me in the adjacent bar. [I say “quite sure” because of the looks I got from two or three people when we walked out.]
Rear Wash, then Front Wash (which didn’t hit the Front part I thought it would, but had it gone where I expected it to, it might have bounced off the Front and hit me in the face). Then a couple more Rear Washes. Another Front Wash, then Fan. This toilet is so amazing that I now want one in my house. I’d never leave the fucking bathroom!
Force of habit, I followed all of the above activity by using the toilet paper after all. Old dogs, new tricks, something like that.
At least my mom has a sense of humor:
Cherry, thanks for listening to me bitch tonight. Love ya!
- 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.
“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!