(It’s really more gray this way, but I still like it better!)
I’m working on having this blog redirect to the website. Please update your favorites with the new address, por favor.
It is still a work in progress, so bear with me 🙂
P.S. I’m working on the blogroll tonight – those didn’t migrate, for some reason.
The non-BF seems to think I am stuck in the 80s. I do occasionally make references to things that happened in the last ten years.
I should never, ever go shopping when I am “feeling FAT.” I’ll buy something four sizes too large just because I had too much to eat at lunch. Case in point: In Hawaii, I bought this cool bamboo shirt (yes, bamboo) and I really liked it. However, I bought it in a size a bit too large. Me: That girl checking us out thinks I’m fat because I bought a XXL in this shirt. The non-BF: NO, that girl checking us out thinks you’re psychotic because you bought a XXL, AND because you are talking about her like she isn’t there.
This is why the non-BF refuses to go shopping with me anymore. This, and because I tend to sweep through shops like I’ve won a five minute shopping spree. He always has to hold the bags.
P.S. The bamboo shirt could alternate as a mini-dress. I must have been slightly tipsy when I bought it.
Just found out that the non-BF solicited musical suggestions from my dear Bunny for some event at work. Me: Why didn’t you ask ME to help? The non-BF: Because I didn’t want a playlist consisting entirely of Duran Duran and Stone Temple Pilots. Me: Like that would be so awful?
Who wouldn’t like a little Simon Le Bon and Scottie in their daily diet?
I am trying the Tanqueray & Vomit slushee tonight. Wish me luck!
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.
- The Mattress Firm’s commercial in which White Delivery Guy tells Frantic Housewife: After eight years, your mattress practically doubles in weight from dead skin, sweat, dust mites… Frantic Housewife: Dust mites??!! Black Delivery Guy: Millions of ’em, maybe more! [P.S. I am freaked out about the dead skin and sweat, but they have to go and add dust mites to the mix??]
- Madonna’s ropy arms.
- Madonna’s fake British accent.
- Why don’t I go ahead and just say, Madonna, period.
- Michael Vick He needs to just go away.
- Fist bumping
- Kourtney Kardashian. Both seeing and hearing. That nasaly voice and those eye-rolls? No wonder Scott drinks so much!
- This commercial. I have to turn the channel every time or I ended up a snotty, bawling mess.
- Sagging pants. Why this trend still remains alive baffles me. Why it ever started in the first place baffles me even more.
- The word “irregardless”
- The non-word “fixin'” – as in “I’m fixin’ to go to Wal-Mart, you wanna go with?” I’m FIXIN’ to shove my fist down your throat if you use that word again. And NO. I do not want to go with you to Wal-Mart. My NASCAR pajama bottoms and lime green tube top ain’t clean today.
- “Go with.” I always thought that was so stupid to say. And I’ve even said it myself, once, until I realized how fucking ridiculous it sounded coming out of my mouth.
- A pee puddle. “Not on my wood floors, bad dogs!” Not in this lifetime, though. I’m destined to mop up so often my fingers will want to fall off.
- Any “Re” commercial. Rephresh, Replense, Re-what-the-fuck-ever! I don’t talk about my nether region that often, let alone think about them that much – so please tell me WHY you have to mention them all the fucking time?
- People who tell me they won’t get their pets spayed/neutered because “It will change them,” or “They won’t be happy without balls anymore.” Shut the fuck UP, dumb asshole. They don’t CARE. P.S. I have some photos of all the dogs and cats that are euthanized each year because of irresponsible owners like your own damned self. If you’d like, I can send copies to your home or office. You’re welcome.
- “Ma’am.” The next time someone calls me that, I am going to
leapcrawl over the counter and beat them senseless with my walking cane!
- Hateful salespeople. Case in point: I went to return a dress the other day that I ordered online for work. Beautiful fit on every single part of me except my back. I have tiny shoulders, so a lot of clothes bunch up on my upper back. I limp into the store (not for effect, I really do have a problem with my right foot) and wait patiently while some totally high maintenance (well, higher maintenance than me) bitch in front of me goes on and on about boot socks with the salesgirl. Another salesgirl walks up to the counter to “help” me. Her, not really looking at me: How can I help you? Me: I’d like to return this dress. C-U-Next-Tuesday Salesgirl: Was there something wrong with it? (in an accusing tone, fucking bitch! yeah, she said it the way you imagined just now) Me: It fit all right, it just bunched up behind my shoulders and looked weird. C-U-Next-Tuesday Salesgirl: I need your Visa! (she snapped that shit at me, too!) Me: Um, okay [and then I hand it over]. C-Word Salesgirl: [Hands me my receipt, looking at me contemptously, nothing uttered from her mouth.] Me: Thank You. The C Word Salesbirl: Yeah, what.ever. Oh My GOD, I am totally writing the company and plugging this shit on Facebook! Bitch, if you don’t want to deal with RETURNS and the PUBLIC, get out of a customer service job. I’m quite certain there are many out there who will gladly take your fucking job. P.S. Your hair looked like Rainbow just pissed on it. Get a different stylist, and SOON.
- P.P.S. Your outfit totally sucked. Not a good representative for your brand.
- I’m not really that vindictive. I just let it all loose in here so I can be normal and not so stabby in the Real World!
- 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.
- 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 Rio. That’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
threefour gin & tonics?
- Swear to God, y’all, it was a stomach bug. Damned non-BF always trying to get me into trouble!
- P.S. I have the swollen lymph glands to prove it. So there. Nyah!
- 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.
So yeah, the catnip shit, while I thought it would be hilarious to watch, has backfired. Damned Wormy Kitty is WIDE AWAKE at 3 a.m. and I don’t know what she is doing in there, but it sounds like she may be re-tiling my bathroom.
P.S. I’m quite certain I misspelled that word. Give me a break, it’s 3 a.m.!
Nope, Internet check – I was right. Anyway, about thirty minutes ago, I woke up to the sounds of someone moving furniture. My house alarm didn’t go off, so I was pretty sure I was okay. Which is a GOOD thing, since my wasp & hornet spray was in my bedroom. (No one wants me to have a gun, so I have to make do with what I can). It was the Wormy Kitty.
My mom, with all good intentions (I hope), gave the Wormy Kitty a jingle ball. That bitch is in there right now, batting it around, high as shit on the catnip, making all kinds of noise. I’m used to dogs that like to sleep through most of the night (well, I am now that Mr. Swirly (RIP) has passed). This is not how I wanted to spend my Friday night.
[I don’t really know how I wanted to spend my Friday night/Saturday morning. Except for maybe SLEEPING.]
After getting up, checking on the kitty (who mysteriously stops all that she is doing to just STARE at me – creepy!), I discovered that Rainbow had once again Spiteful Pissed on the kitty litter jug. Several unmentionable words, about 20 sheets of paper towels and half a can of Lysol later, I was too wide awake to go back to sleep.
So now I am doomed to spend the rest of normal people’s sleeping hours awake, listening to a kitten bounce off the walls of her crate, folding laundry, giving myself another fucked-up manicure, watching “Titanic” for the 157th time and contemplating my really badly tan-towled legs.
- 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.