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!
- 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.
- 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.
- 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!