Category Archives: All About Me

“In the shadow of those looming battleships, I love our canoe…”

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.

“Loss Is Loss”

And it is.  It doesn’t matter if it is a relationship, a friend, a family member dying or the loss of a beloved pet.  Loss is loss.

Once upon a time, there was this really self-centered, selfish girl who didn’t think about much except the next moment.  She pretty much lived life like there was no tomorrow.  No planning, kind of scattered.  A really charming fuck-up.  When she broke up with yet another loser boyfriend, she felt like maybe she needed a little something more in her life.  Not more men, but perhaps a puppy.

So this girl adopted a dog.  This union was meant to be.  I don’t think anyone would have put up with her at that time in her life, or with him.  He was trouble, and trust me, so was she.

Typical story, not very interesting, except for the fact that the next four years led her from selfish bitch to humanitarian dogitarian.  Said dog ended up with a chronic disease that the girl continued to fight for three years until it wasn’t a fight anymore.  She had to let him go with dignity.  It was the hardest thing this girl ever decided to do (fuck those two marriages, they meant a LOT less to her than this precious dog).  At the time, she never, ever thought she would love like that again.  She found her “soul mate” and he was a four-legged one.  That hot mess bundle of trouble taught her so much more about life and love than she ever expected.

She did find love again.  She loved/still loves a human boy a LOTShe would crawl over broken glass for him.  Since her beloved dog that died nine years ago, this girl has had four dogs she loved more than anything on this earth, other than the human boy.  Then one of them died this year, and she was sad again, but she recovered more quickly this time because she learned that first time dogs kind of pave our way to heaven, and it’s all okay when they leave us because we will be with them again someday.

Now there are three.  And a cat.

Today, she sits and writes with three dogs.  Her dog blankets are stinky and she is forever cleaning up after the furbrats.  She has to plan her evenings around medicine time, and some days, she is taxed with just rounding up those little dogs to get them in line and on a single sofa for rest!  My God, it is a never-ending battle for this girl, and usually, the dogs win.  (Not that she cares.)  Even so, this girl believes that no matter what the struggle, it is worth it.  It is worth it.

And it always is.  Yes, it always is.

I Feel Pretty

The sweet and dishy Teri gave me the Laine Blogger Award for Beauty.  Thanks hon!  Here are the rules for this award:
1. Answer the 5 questions below (same ones that I’ve answered)

2. Pass the award on to 5 other beautiful bloggers

1. What is your current beauty obsession? Anything anti-aging. Right now I’m trying Lancome’s Visionnaire and Genefique. Not sure if it is working but I’m only using it in the a.m. because I suck. Aslo trying any BB cream I can get my hands on. Working my way through the drugstore brands then I’ll test the higher end ones. Oh, and They’re Real mascara by Benefit is awesome when it’s topped with a coat of the Hypnose Doll Lashes. For night, Sephora’s Atomic Volume as the third coat makes for some pretty good bedroom eyes. Bobbi Brown eyeshadows in a neutral color for an eyeshadow base. Urban Decay 24/7 eyeliners are about the best thing I’ve every held in my grubby little paws! Plus, kickass color names. Packaging and branding get me every time! Right now, I wear Crash – great with brown eyes. Most favorite eye shadow EVER: Lounge by Uban Decay. I have about three extra just in case! Love any kind of volumizing shit for my mousy hair (currently: John Frieda). Oh yeah, and any Essie or Deborah Lippmann nail polish. Okay, so I’m kind of a beauty junkie. Add that to my ever-growing list of vices.

2. What is the one beauty item you wish you owned? Without a doubt, a Clarisonic Sonic Cleansing System. As much money as I have spent on clothes, accessorites, shoes, purses, skincare, makeup and jewelry, one would think I would have acquired one of these babies YEARS ago. Nope. It always slips my mind. Before the end of the year, I will have one (if I can just remember to buy it!). My skin will thank me. Get yourself one – your skin will thank you, too. Then we can sit around and tell each other how gorgeous we are!

3. What is your favorite topic to read about? I don’t have a favorite topic, per se. How about some favorite topics? Fashion, beauty, crime, serial killers, paranormal occurrences, faith and spirituality, cooking (I don’t cook but I collect cookbooks, especially vintage ones), dogs, finance, marketing, social media, plants, gardening (I don’t do gardening, either, well not yet), shoes and living a simpler life (ha!).

4. What inspired you to become a blogger?

Getting the crazy out of my head and in here where it could do less damage.

Seriously? I’ve been writing since I was five years old. I had a blog called non-girlfriend that I wrote from early 2004 until late 2006. I kind of missed the bullshit I wrote back then, and then reading Jenny Lawson’s blog pretty much inspired me to bring non-girlfriend back. I tried writing about “normal” shit for a while but it didn’t feel like home to me. This does. Love it or hate it, I don’t really give a damn. This time, I’m not going anywhere, so you’re stuck with me. Nyah! [Plus, I need something to do at 3 a.m. when I wake up to the sounds of Wormy Kitty doing back flips off the walls of her Kitty Prison.]

5. What nail polish are you wearing now? Essie’s “Meet Me At Sunset” on my fingers. Unnamed Essie color on my toes because I left my pedicure without taking the nail polish I brought. I lose, pedicurist wins. It was a fucking full bottle, too. Sigh. Oh, but yeah, it’s a plummy rosy color. My toes never match my fingers unless I go off my meds.

And now it’s my pleasure to pass this along to five beautiful bloggers. Please visit them when you have time:

The Hartley Hooligans

Five Legs Between Us

No Pithy Phrase

Cerebral Milkshake

If I Am Going To Fall Off Of Something, It Sure As Hell Ain’t Gonna Be A WAGON!

I have to be honest with y’all, I didn’t stay smoke-free for more than about two weeks.  So today, I have My Last Cigarette again…but this time, I have backup!

I totally SUCK at taking/editing photos!

So if I seem a little grumpy grumpier than usual, I have an excuse this time.

And NO, I am not going to “buy myself a present” for staying smoke-free.  It will be “present” enough for me that I no longer smell like a truck stop waitress in a seedy dive bar.  And that I totally lose my appetite when I quit smoking – that could really count in my favor.


What is it with guys and rejection?  I remember one that, upon me breaking up with him, shouted, “I just knew you were a witch!”  Yes, witch, not bitch.  (Although I am that, too.)  He claimed he was afraid that I’d now put a hex or spell or whatever witches do on him.  His reasoning:  You burn candles all the time.  It’s my fault because it took me that long to figure out I needed to break it off with the moron.

Then there was the one I forgot I had a date with because I had already moved on to the next in a long line of losers.  He stood outside my apartment, pounding on the door.  “I know you are in there!!”  I crawled on my hands and knees to avoid the windows (oops, forgot to draw the blinds, dumbass?), all the while on the phone with My New Future Ex-Boyfriend.  A few days later, I received an email from him, spewing vitriol and calling me a lot of probably well-deserved choice names.  The last line of the email:  “I’m going to call the Lesbian Police and report you!”  What the holy hell?  Yeah, right, just because I don’t want you, that means I’ve switched sidesStupid boys!

Then there was the one who told me early on how awful he thought it would be to be broken up with via email.  Three or so months later (if even that long), after repeatedly warning him to give me some space or it wouldn’t work out (“Damn, don’t you have some guy friends to go out with or something? I don’t need someone up my ass 24/7!”), I sent him an email:  “It’s over.”  Dude, if you don’t want me to stab you in the back, don’t hand me the fucking knife to do it with!

I’m so lucky that I grew up, got some standards and met the non-BF.  He is none of those things that drive me away:  clingy, demanding, possessive, controlling, moronic or weak.  How is a girl supposed to respect someone if he lets her walk all over him?


I hate it when my DVR thinks it’s okay to fast forward through a show I am watching just because I’VE BEEN WATCHING TV FOR 12 HOURS.  I also hate it when I realize I’m really quite a slacker and a lazy bitch for spending my Saturday in front of the TV.  I wake up to Will Wheaton bowling on the Big Bang Theory and then Saving Private Ryan.  I wish I’d just I’d just stayed asleep.  Bowling sucks and that movie always makes me cry.  And makes me want to hug a veteran.  I really, really wish there would be a world without war someday.  We Americans don’t know what we have and what we take for granted each day.  I totally realized that for sure when I went to a third world country developing country two years ago.  Normally, I don’t get all sentimental and shit in here but no matter what side you may be on, those incredible people who fought and died for our country and our freedom deserve absolutely every honor we can bestow upon them.


Years ago, and not that many, I would wake up in the middle of the night and wonder what the hell I did with the eight hours preceding that thought.  These days, I wake up, check the number of animals in the house (plus or minus Mr. Tail when he visits), and I wonder what the hell I will do with my night. Some might call me crazy, but loving and living in a world of animal rescues kind of feels like home to me.

Once upon a time, there was one fabulous, mixed up dog, and then there were three.  When Trouble left this world, I wanted to die.  Luckily, my very wise mother reminded me there were more dogs counting on me.  And soon thereafter, another one came into the mix.  Add the tiny white dog, and we’re set.  Except for the stray cat who lived under my porch that I decided to foster adopt.  In my life, there is and almost always has been a dog. Sometimes it’s beautiful, sometimes it’s ugly.  Every single time, it’s LOVE.  Now I have a cat, too.  Crazy Animal Lady!


I found some more scraps of paper in the bottom of another purse.  One of my favorites…

Me:  You missed me making Sand Boobs.  Him:  (just a look)  Me:  Seriously, I had a C cup, a double D and a training bra.  Then some brat comes along and destroys the big ones.

And another one I don’t really remember writing, but I’m sure it happened…

Me, on the phone with my mom:  I did not have wine.  My dad:  muffled sounds in the background  My mom:  You father thinks you said you didn’t have worms.


I know there are those who say “Size doesn’t matter,” and they are usually guys, but size matters, it really does.  It totally matters when you are trying to squeeze your ass into your favorite jeans and half of your stomach is coming up for air over the waistband.  Celery anyone?


I give you this:

The non-BF has at least 17 of these in a drawer in his house. If I’m anything, I’m consistent.

Flying Insects, Textos En Español, White Seaweed Salad And A Washlet

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:

Mom, I think you mean “Don’t cry for me, Argentina

Cherry, thanks for listening to me bitch tonight.  Love ya!

No, no voy a dejar de enviar mensajes de texto usted!

Totally Random Tuesday

  • Coming off of over 41 hours awake, 25 spent in the bathroom throwing up.  Happy Labor Day to me – I was laboring over a toilet.
  • Must have been delusional because I swear I saw Pikachu staring at me in the dark in my bedroom, sitting on top of a three foot pile of Skittles.
  • At four a.m., I was trying to watch “Falling Skies” so I could fall asleep but I just didn’t get the show, and the music was spooky, so yeah, probably a poor choice on my part.
  • Last night was the night Wormy Kitty decided to “take the day off” and wasn’t doing loud acrobatics in the middle of the night.  Shit, if I was going to be awake all night, I might as well be entertained, because Noah Wylie sure as hell wasn’t cutting it for me.
  • Was looking at the Office Mate’s Linkedin profile.  Me:  Take the apostrophes off your CEO’s, VP’s, etc.  It shows ownership, not plurality.  The Office Mate:  Well, when I worked for them, I did own them!
  • Even though I am a  girlie girl to a fault, I hate buying bras.  And panties.  I am pretty utilitarian about underwear because, well, who’s gonna see it?  Okay, so the non-BF does – point taken.  In order to cheer myself up from my Vomit Funk today, I went to Victoria’s Secret at lunch.  It’s about time I put some color on my tits & ass!
  • Only one thing was boring beige.  The rest are so bright, I doubt I’ll be able to wear them under anything except black.  (10 pairs of panties, one boring beige bra and one shiny, sparkly blue and pink bra.  No more underwear shopping for me until 2013.)
  • When I got back from lunch, I went to the bathroom and noticed myself in the mirror.  Wearing my standard I Don’t Feel Good So If You Know What Is Good For You, You Won’t Fuck With Me uniform (papery cotton baggy brown cropped pants, a fugly blah-colored t-shirt, my glasses, didn’t bother to do my hair and very little makeup because I may just be laboring over the toilet again), I looked SCARY.  Ran back to the office and told the Office Mate I had to take some pizzas to a class tonight and I just couldn’t do it.  Me:  Look at me, I look like shit.  (Silence from the Office Mate.)  Me:  No, I look like a homeless person!  No wonder those girls at Victoria’s Secret were following me all around the store.  “Watch her, bitch is gonna steal some bras so she can trade them on the street for a couple 40 ozs!”
  • I typically make notes of overheard shit or conversations I’ve had on whatever is around me at the time, including napkins, credit card receipts, cardboard beer coasters and once, a Tampon wrapper.  Then I shove them inside whatever bag is closest to me and forget about them.  Was cleaning out my work tote this evening and noticed a wadded up paper napkin at the bottom with “That dress is going to end up in a trash can later tonight” written on it.  I wish to the baby Jesus and all that is holy I knew when and who the hell I wrote that about!
  • On the other end of the napkin, I found this.  Me: Awkward teen?  The non-BF:  Yep, she’s never kissed a boy.  But I bet she’s kissed a few girls.  Me:  Slumber party practice?  The non-BF:  Oh yeah.
  • Ooh, a bonus find tonight!  Mom:  You know, that Spanish Club El RioThat’s where it happened.  Me:  El Rio?  The RIVER?  Sounds like a white person came up with that name.  It’s like calling it El Taco or some such shit!
  • Conversation tonight with the non-BF – Me:  No, you didn’t send me Captain Pervy.  You sent two emails to me with photos of me with really bad hair and a boa constrictor wrapped around my neck.  (No, NO ONE will ever understand us.  I still don’t.)
  • On the way home from work on Friday, I was stopped at a traffic light next to a chick sitting behind some guy on a Harley. She was wearing a sweater set and pearls.  He was wearing a bowtie.
  • Why do I always see the strangest things when I cannot possibly take a photograph, damn it?!
  • Why doesn’t anyone use the term “cad” anymore?  I always found it so much classier than calling a guy a prick, douchebag or fuckface.  Don’t you?
  • Had to run to the grocery store because all of my salad stuff was expired.  While I was there, I decided to get the furbrats a rotisserie chicken, and I returned home to discover I picked one that was a little, um, DRY.  On the phone with the non-BF, I said, “Oh well, it’s just for the dogs, right?  Let Momma have a taste first…” Was so hungry from being sick for two days that I didn’t chew properly and almost choked on the motherfucking chicken!  Me:  Mgmpmhph…ack! Okay, I am okay. I’m okay.  Him:  You’re falling apart.  First you pass out from swigging gin and now you’re choking on your chicken.  I’m going to have to get you one of those “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” buttons.  One day, I’ll come over there and the dogs will be feasting on your thighs.  Me: [Click]
  • Of course I didn’t really hang up on him (although I kinda sorta wanted to – why did he have to say “feasting on your thighs” like they were a couple of luau pigs – so meaty! – or something?).  He had a point about the fowl play on the phone, though, because if I wait too late to eat, I eat too fast.  But the gin thing?  Nope, the fucking Austerity Campaign has sadly kicked in.  Besides who has feverish sweats and hallucinates from a gin & tonic?
  • Okay, okay, so from three four gin & tonics?
  • Swear to God, y’all, it was a stomach bugDamned non-BF always trying to get me into trouble!
  • P.S. I have the swollen lymph glands to prove it.  So thereNyah!
  • I once had a fever so high that I had this out of body experience where I got up out of my sweat-soaked body in bed, patted Trouble on the head and went to turn the A/C up because I was freezing.  I know it really happened, too, because I remember thinking to myself on my way back to bed, “Bitch, you really ought to clean this apartment more often.”
  • My feet are so overdue for a pedi, I’m almost ashamed to go back to my regular place.  I just know they talk about people’s crusty feet in their native language while they are sitting there smiling at us.
  • Plus, they seem to find it amusing that my feet are so ticklish and I squirm and giggle when they are scraping them.  I’m really only worried I might squirm too much one time and “accidentally” kick one of those bitches in the face.
  • Got up to make myself some hot tea to soothe my poor Chicken Choking Throat and looked down.  There it was again.  I swear, I picked out the most godawful combination of clothes in my fucking closet.  Come to think of it, I think I reserve this ensemble for my Stinky Dog Bath Days.
  • You should have seen the one time I tried to bathe all four at once.  I am Non, Queen of the Idiots!
  • I bought the Wormy Kitty another catnip toy but this one is a hanging one, which is much more entertaining for me.  Plus the little shit can’t drag it off into her water bowl then bury it in the litter box.  Was in the other room and heard this weird, semi-barking sound and ran to the crate to find Rainbow trying desperately to pull the catnip bug through the gate.  “Hugs, not drugs, Rainbow!  Hugs, not drugs.  Your crack pipe days are over, you big pussy!”
  • I cannot hear “Moves Like Jagger” without wanting to get up and dance.  Then go Google “naked Adam Levine.”  What is it with me and skinny singers with lots of tattoos?  It’s not I’d look twice at that shit if they were walking down the street.  But give them a microphone and hell yeah.
  • I used to love it when the boys in the band would dedicate “Rebel Rebel” to me.  Hot tramp, I love you so!
  • It’s so quiet around here sometimes now that Mr. Swirly is gone, I often forget I have other animals and try to do something for myself, like take a nap after going over a day without sleep.  It’s quiet, that is, until one of the dogs leaps up on my chest and barks in my face, almost giving me a fucking heart attack.  How completely impudent of me to think I’m allowed a little “me time.” So sorry!
  • UPDATED:  I cannot stop laughing over this.

Wednesday’s Child Is Full Of Shit

  • 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” table dining 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…

Totally Random Tuesday

  • 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!

May I Bitch For Just A Moment, Please?

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 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.

Blogorrhea And Other Internet-Based Illnesses

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 spot nothing 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 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.