- 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.
- Buy your inner child lots of presents. Your inner child just loves presents.
- Always give in to your inner child, especially when she throws herself on the floor, kicking and screaming. Your inner child will thank you later. Maybe.
- Remind your inner child often, like every hour, how beautiful she is. Even if your inner child is having a Bad Hair Day.
- If your inner child comes in at second place in the school poetry writing contest, tell your inner child that she really deserved first place. They just gave it to that other girl because she’s ugly and her mom shows up in dirty sweatpants all the time when she comes to pick her up from school.
- When you are playing Monopoly with your inner child, ignore the extra $100 bill she took when she passed “Go.” Let your inner child get all the good real estate, even if you land on it first. And let your inner child win, every single time. She may very well become a real estate magnate someday, and let you live on Park Place. Or at least let you live on Baltic Avenue at a reduced rent.
- If there is only one cookie left in the box, let your inner child take it. As your inner child says, “You didn’t need a cookie anyway, fat-ass.”
- When you are at a party and your inner child gets all silly and stumbly and knocks over the punch bowl because she had a few too many fizzy gin drinks, explain to the hostess and other party guests that your inner child had a bad day and she really just needed to cut loose. Trust me, we all know how hard your inner child
- Answer your inner child with “Yes, you are the smartest and the prettiest girl on the block.” If that doesn’t work, say the entire world, In fact, you might as well say that to begin with because that is what your inner child thinks anyway, and it will save you time and energy in the long run.
- If your inner child tells you “NO!” or “Fuck you!”, don’t spank or chastise her. She is merely expressing herself and is well on her way to growing up and becoming the mouthy bitch everyone else will hate but will be too afraid to say it to her face.
Let the dogs outside this morning and a cicada buzzed me and flopped onto the porch. I knew I should have kicked it off but I was trying to be nice. When I opened the door to go back in, the motherfucker flew inside! I found it sitting on my china cabinet and tried to knock it off onto the floor. It buzzed all around me so naturally, I ran around the dining room screaming. Surprised the neighbors didn’t call the police, except they’ve probably heard worse coming from my house. The nasty little bastard was sitting on top of a picture frame on my dining room wall and I had to take an alternate route to get to my bathroom and shower.
I wonder if hornet spray would do the job?
UPDATED: Yes, it does. Hornet spray also takes the paint off walls and will ruin not only a picture frame but the print inside it. I highly recommend just whacking the little shit instead, I don’t care how afraid you are to get close to it.
At lunch yesterday, I decided I would text several friends and let them know I declared Wednesday I Will Only Text In Spanish Day. No, I didn’t do one of those annoying group messages, I sent out individual texts with “!Hoy, sólo estoy enviando textos en español!” which Google Translate assures me is “Today, I’m just sending texts in Spanish!” I’m lazy so I didn’t reverse translate it. (By the way, I just now did and shame on you Google Translate, it really converts to “Today, I’m just sending Spanish texts!” Anyway, yeah, basically what I meant to say, so I don’t really fucking care.)
Out of the seven or eight very special people who were lucky enough to receive such a meaningful text from me, only four responded. The rest of you are slackards! Three thought it was funny (of COURSE mi madre, Bunny and Cherry were game, even if Cherry had to bow out of responding after two badly butchered Spanish texts came back to me…she had a meeting to go to). The fourth was mi amiga who responded with your typical, Hey I Don’t Think You Meant To Text This To Me text.
If someone texts me back, I assume it’s open season and I can respond in turn. (When I can’t have a text “conversation,” I always send a quick, “Sorry, can’t talk, call ya later!”) So I did write back, explaining that yes, the text was for her and it was because it was I Will Only Text In Spanish Day. Did I write my next five texts to her in Espanol? You bet your fucking Hostess Ding Dongs I did!
Next thing I know, she was calling me but since I was inhaling my salad and I didn’t want to choke on my food for the second day in a row, I hit the “Decline” button (or as I like to call it, “Denied!”) Texted her that I would call her later.
“I’m in a meeting…can you please stop texting!”
So I absolutely had to text her back with “Sorry” (and I even wrote it in English, that’s how nice I am!). Good thing I didn’t go with my first choice for a response: “Lighten up, Frances.” (Again with the movie quotes???)
Or my second: Besar el culo. (Ha ha, if you are reading this, mi amiga, just kidding!)
Oh MY. Just look at what I found!
Went to dinner tonight with a great couple I met through the non-BF. We were eating at a 5-star Japanese restaurant and while I am not a huge fan of the noodle, these were pretty fucking awesome. But for starters, I wanted to try the white seaweed salad. Had heard it was a must so I ordered one to start my dinner. No possible way to describe it fully – suffice it to say it was crunchy in a springy, sort of bouncy way. Very tasty, too.
When it seemed we were finished and were ready to leave, I was told to go to the bathroom. Not that I was farting at the table or anything, they just said I had to at least look at the bathroom before I left. So the girl half of the couple and I go and the first thing I noticed was the sheer glass doors that were on the stalls. “But you can see through it!” I told her. (I have a hard enough time peeing in a public restroom, but if people can actually watch me do it, I just might die.) She showed me how the glass becomes frosted when you turn the lock. How fucking c-o-o-l is that?
I stepped inside, turned the lock, put down my two strips of toilet paper and sat down on this rather interesting looking toilet. Over to my left, right above the teepee roll, there was a panel with buttons. Stop, Rear Wash, Rear Wash (Soft), Front Wash and Fan. Oh shit (no pun intended), this was going to be fun! Even though I didn’t need it, I pushed the Rear Wash (Soft) first. Some mechanical sounds then WHOOSH! – my ass got gently sprayed with warm water. Not able to help myself, I laughed so loud I am quite sure they heard me in the adjacent bar. [I say “quite sure” because of the looks I got from two or three people when we walked out.]
Rear Wash, then Front Wash (which didn’t hit the Front part I thought it would, but had it gone where I expected it to, it might have bounced off the Front and hit me in the face). Then a couple more Rear Washes. Another Front Wash, then Fan. This toilet is so amazing that I now want one in my house. I’d never leave the fucking bathroom!
Force of habit, I followed all of the above activity by using the toilet paper after all. Old dogs, new tricks, something like that.
At least my mom has a sense of humor:
Cherry, thanks for listening to me bitch tonight. Love ya!
- 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.
“Looks like somebody has a case of the Mondays.” I swear to the baby Jesus and all that is holy, if anyone EVER says that to me, I’ll knock them upside their head with my 20 pound purse!
I give you my Bitchy Monday:
- Wormy Kitty (as she is now called) doesn’t seem to be doing any better. Might be because I am an idiot and wasn’t giving her the proper dosage of nasty ringworm meds the first two days. I really need to read labels.
- I don’t seem to be doing any better myself. Feel like the fucking Typhoid Mary.
- Woke up sick this morning, slept a little too late and had to go into the office wearing a ball cap because I had fugly hair from being a lazy bitch this weekend. Also wore baggy cropped pants, a mismatched t-shirt and flip flops that didn’t even come close to pulling the “outfit” together. I looked like a homeless person dressed me.
- Now, don’t get all shitty about the above bullet point. I give them beer money, remember?
- The bandage covering my ringworm is irritating my skin (eew, that still grosses me out to say “my” and “ringworm” in the same sentence!). Between welty skin, a fungal infection and my Lysol Arms, I’m a train wreck.
- Was chastised by the non-BF yesterday: “You sure do cuss a lot more these days. It’s like your blog has taken over your real life.” Oopsy! Can’t have THAT happen, can we?
- Forced Austerity Campaign has not been too much of an adjustment for me. I didn’t opt out of my emails, but now I delete them all. Okay, so I take a tiny peek at them and then I delete them. Oh yeah, and I threw away my “Shit I Need To Buy” folder! PROGRESS.
- I know I really am overdue on a Man-Skeeter post but I’m so busy at work these days, I don’t even want to think about her when I get home. Soon, my bitches, very, very soon.
- Totally forgot to turn up my A/C this morning and came home to a super cold house, a shivering Wormy Kitty, two pissed off dogs and a condenser that froze up.
- What would I do for a Klondike bar? I don’t really like them, so yeah, probably nothing.
- I just looked at my surrounding area and realized I have four bottles of nail polish out. Three are pale pink with shades so insignificantly different from one another, it makes me wonder why I bought all three of them. Oh wait, the Shopping Problem. I fail.
- “Forgot” to eat this weekend, except for some Cheetos, so I had two chicken biscuits and biscuits and plain gravy for breakfast, and a sandwich for lunch. Damn, I’ve had my carb intake for all of September the last week in August. Nothing but salad and apples for this bitch for four weeks!
- I have to get up really early tomorrow, so I set three different alarms on my phone and I’m having my mommy call me in the morning. I sure miss my “alarm clock dog” (Mr. Swirly). For more reasons than that, obviously, but hell, that dog could wake the dead.
- Going to start calling my girls The Nips. Going braless? “Taking The Nips on a walk.” Breast self exam? “It’s Jane Fonda time for The Nips. Work it, baby!”
- Rainbow is licking his penis (because he can), Blindie is licking her arm and Wormy Kitty is licking the crate gate. I am surrounded by saliva. It ain’t pretty.
Heard that song on Pandora yesterday and apparently, it was foretelling. The following was my day. And it isn’t over yet.
It was cool early this morning, so I was walking up and down the street while I was talking to the non-BF on the phone. Saw a neighbor’s dogs out in their backyard and without even thinking, I went up to the fence and stuck my hand over to pet them. The alpha bitch totally bit my ring finger, broke the skin and bruised it. Now I have done enough dog rescue to know that it is really STUPID to do such a thing, but I just wasn’t thinking. Talked to the owner later and was assured that they were all up to date on their shots – said that because of the breed, he had all the paperwork, etc. I’m quite sure he thought I was going to sue him. Nope, I just apologized for my utter stupidity and went home. What kind of fucking idiot goes up to a barking dog in its own backyard and tries to pet it? Me, that’s who.
I can’t help it. I love dogs and I really love Pitties. Did the same thing several years ago to my neighbor’s Dachshund and still have the scar to prove it. Fucking dumbass.
Had to break up three dog fights in under an hour later this morning. Mr. Tail was visiting and Blindie kept picking fights with him when he tried to get next to the foster kitty’s crate. Blindie “guards” the kitty by sitting in front of the crate and snapping at anyone who comes near, including me.
By the way, that “spider bite”? Not only is it not lethal, it isn’t a spider bite. The foster cat has ringworm. Now so do I. No good deed goes unpunished. At least I can color coordinate the monkey bandages with my outfits next week. Always look on the bright side of life, right?
By the way, don’t use Lysol on your skin if you are worried about something spreading. Anti-bacterial soap is enough. My skin is itching so badly now, I’m like that bitch in the ABC After School Special who took those drugs, started screaming “The worms! They are under my skin!” and leapt out of a second story window. That shit really dries out your skin! I cannot find any body lotion, so I’m using a tiny pot of $25 lip balm to salvage my arm skin. Fuck.
Ran an errand in a dicey part of DFW and got laughed at by what I can only assume was a cheap hooker and her “date.” Bitch, please! I was sporting a super cute ocean blue sundress with matching Coach cork platforms, my dog bite and my monkey bandages on my chest. She had electric blue eyeshadow from fake lashes to brow, day-glow tennis shoes and stretch pants in an off-black snakeskin print that barely covered her huge ass. She and her “date” were buying vodka and a jug of orange juice. They took off in a Mercedes and I thought to myself, “If the car is a rocking, don’t come a knocking.” Classy.
I’m toally going to bed before anything else goes wrong!
I love that movie “The Family Stone.” Totally have a girl crush on SJP and Rachel McAdams. Plus Luke Wilson in those sweatpants by the car? Um, YES. By the way, I have a freak flag, too. It’s just that I only fly it in here.
The above paragraph has nothing to do with anything except that I love the quote from that movie and needed an excuse to use it. Kind of like my “Thelma and Louise” quote from the other day.
It has been one hell of a busy week: Rainbow finally came out, I finished my thesis, Blindie learned to count to three with her front left paw, Mr. Tail filed an emancipation suit against me, and I crocheted a really ugly baby cap even though babies in Texas in the summer don’t need really ugly crocheted baby caps. Actually, no baby anywhere needs one.
Okay, so none of the above happened. I did have a stray kitten move in under my front porch. Found $2.17 in change in my couch. And my power went out in the middle of the night. Not good. It was back on again later, so my food was saved, and my dogs could stop freaking out at grandma’s house and go back to doing what they do best: sleeping on their bed all fucking day. Lazy asses.
Some mornings, when I finish getting ready to go to work, I look at myself in the mirror, sigh loudly and say, “Whatever.” Such a morning was this one. When the FUCK did I start having hair like Carol Brady???
Don’t you just hate Snappers? You know, those annoying asses who snap their fingers at other people. I worked with someone like that once, felt my skin crawl every time they did it. Especially when they did it at me.
Well, I must confess…I am a Snapper. But only with my dogs. I’m sure they are annoyed when that shit happens. Still, it’s very effective. Especially with Rainbow when I’m trying to get him to come inside. He is very anti-Snap but that bitch hops to it when I do it. No wonder the Snappers do that shit!
Driving to the store one evening this week, I totally fucking saw a guy on a unicycle using a walking stick to propel him forward. Almost ran my car off the road. Why is it that I always see the weirdest shit when I cannot possibly take a photo of it???
Went out to see an 80s cover band play tonight. While we were having dinner before the show, the non-BF poked me and said, “Look! There’s the waitress who was worried about your alcohol consumption the last time we were here.” I asked him if I should hold up my drink and tell her, “It’s Diet Coke!” (it was, as a matter of fact). He said, “No, she probably wouldn’t recognize you in a vertical position” When I saw her later and apologized, she was all gracious and cool about it. “You were bad but you were good bad.” I still got thrown out of the club. [Clarification: Thrown out the last time we were there, not tonight. People really shouldn’t put couches in nightclubs and serve cocktails. I get sleepy when I have a few! But tonight, I was sober and fully cognizant of all the aging idiots in the audience trying to party like it’s 1999.]
Totally weird conversation I had with Bunny tonight…
Me: Do you want one of my chewable aspirin? They’re orange flavored.
Bunny: Only if they have cocaine in them. (I love her sense of humor. Hugs not drugs, people! Hugs. Not drugs.)
Me: I don’t like the orangey flavor but I had to get the chewable ones in case I have a heart attack.
The non-BF gives me a What The Fuck? look.
Me: I haven’t liked the taste of these things since I overdosed on a bottle of them when I was 16 months old.
Disclaimer to the immediate above – when I started walking, I started climbing. My mom thought they were stored where a child couldn’t get to them, on the top shelf of a wall cabinet. Being the little monkey that I was, somehow I found the bottle and ate its entire contents (about 3/4 full). When there’s a will, there’s a way! I guess I really liked the taste of them then. Explains why I hate orange flavored shit now and why I absolutely HATE taking pills! One of my earliest childhood memories is of me in the ER going to get my stomach pumped but I saved them the trouble and threw up the spinach I ate for dinner. P.S. My mother always had the hardest time getting me to eat anything but vegetables when I was a kid. God bless her. I know she tried. I’ve been “difficult” since I exited her womb.
On the way home from the concert, I stopped off at a drugstore still wearing my club wristbands. Had to pick up some Tums and Ben Gay. I do appreciate the irony of that. However, I doubt the guy behind the counter did.
I spent my childhood and teenage years pretty shy, and the time from age 1 until my late 20s being more of a follower than a leader. I don’t know when exactly all of that changed, but I am glad it did. Now, if you don’t like me, I wonder what the fuck is wrong with you. Now, I don’t wait for someone to step up and take control of a situation, I
volunteer to be in charge take over. Now, I don’t mind being the boss. In fact, I prefer it. Sometimes, I might even be a little too directive. Case in point – my parents’ anniversary luncheon. My mom was suggesting I ASK the other siblings to contribute this or that, and I told her I’d take care of it. Three text messages later, the menu was taken care of and no one had any doubts about their contribution to the whole thing. I have found that most people really want to be told what to do, and are waiting for someone to be the one to tell them just what that is. I kinda like that role, as bitchy as it sounds.
Overheard this week:
- Salt and fat, that’s where it’s at!
- They’re fashionably late for a non-event.
- I am slipping into a Carb Coma…
- So then she tells me that her gynecologist asked her if she was still having hot flashes, and she told him to check back with her in November because it was summertime in Texas and how the fuck did she know if she was. Really, I don’t know why I ever accept lunch invitations from that crazy bitch.
- He promised me this birthday, I’d have a Jaguar. Asshole went out and bought me a BMW. (Me: Oh, I’m so sorry for your inconvenient life! Whore.)
- Dude, clean your car! It smells like a witch’s crotch in here!
- (Deadpanned after seeing a girl dressed like a $20 hooker) I have that same outfit!
- Woman in front of the grumpy old woman in front of me in the 15 Items Or Less Express Lane: You can’t count every single can in my six pack as a single item.
- I really have no idea WHAT THE FUCK is going on in my toilet!!
Finally bought legitimate first aid tape to bind my Probably Broken Toe to the middle piggy to keep it straight. I looked down at it just now and realized my Probably Broken Toe is a LOT longer than my Captain Toe. I’m glad the non-BF isn’t like Jason Alexander in Shallow Hal and gets all icked-out by that shit, because that motherfucker is freakishly long.
I gave up giving up for Lent this year. That was a lot easier than giving up smoking, drinking, online shopping, reading People magazine and mainlining butter.
For twelve years, the non-BF has been telling me all kinds of false shit, knowing I’d believe him, only to wink and laugh when someone else called me on it. Tonight, for example, I made the waiter tell me exactly what cheeses were in the Truffle Mac And Cheese because the non-BF swore there was bleu cheese in it. “But no bleu cheese, right?” The waiter just gave me a look and said, “Um, NO.” The non-BF just laughed and laughed.
Motherfucker, you are SO getting your eyebrows Naired off, and SOON. This is not an empty threat!
By the way, I’ve always been that way. Years ago, a really good friend told me that the word “gullible” wasn’t in the dictionary and I went to look it up and prove her wrong. Busted.
P.P.S. I will so NOT Nair off the non-BF’s eyebrows. His eyebrows are quite cute and plus that would just be mean-spirited of me. Besides, after 12 years, one would think my jackass mind would figure out that he is always fucking with me.
I cannot get the last fucking club wrist band off my right arm. My scissors must be too dull. I considered gnawing it off like a coyote caught in a trap but I like my right hand. It allows me to type stupid shit in here and plus I need it for work. My next thought was to use a paring knife to cut it off but those were all taken away from me and locked up since the time I did two shots of vodka and tried to chop lemongrass for a Thai recipe. Good thing, I suppose. No one but the furbrats around to call 911 when I accidentally sever the end of my arm.
Goodnight.. I give you this:
Totally Random Shit I Said, Did, Questioned, Thought About and/or Experienced Today:
- “One day, you might feel very generous and decide to buy me a Mini Cooper.” (said me to the non-BF, as he talked finances with me – all way over my head! – and I realized I’ll never, ever be one of those Ladies Who Lunch. Thank God.)
- He really still could buy me a Mini. I’m totally independent, y’all, but I want a new car and I am not above whoring myself out for one.
- The non-BF responded with “No more jewelry for you!” Fuck that shit, I better back-track, and FAST.
- Decided 2:00 p.m. for a “lunch date” at Target (with myself) was a good idea. Until the Devil Child From Hell in the store started screaming and what is left of my reproductive system tried to make a break for it via my vagina.
- Is it wrong that I call Snarky (my dog who cannot see) “Blindie?” It really is sort of a cute name.
- When I was in college studying English, I had a professor who said people who used commas too often were like “loose girls.” Not only was I highly offended by that comment (what about the guys who were promiscuous? I bet you think exclamation points are okay, misogynistic old dude!), but since then, I am so very careful about commas. Not about semi-colons, though. No, not me. I throw that shit around like a motherfucker!
- Re: the service provider I was talking to about my home repairs totally needs to go to Non-Girlfriend’s School of Customer Service: “He’s servicing me, not the other way around. I want my Happy Ending!” Bitch, please. Just pick up the phone and call my fucking ass. Who is paying whom here??
- Mom, please don’t Google that phrase. You really do NOT want to know.
- This whole shopping “disorder” I have (i.e., not enough money to buy all the shit I
needwant) is driving me crazycrazier. And the family! Well hell, my mom gives me flyers from stores every weekend, telling me “Look at this, it’s on SALE!” It’s like driving a drunk to the Buck & Ruck and telling them “Here’s fifty dollars – go on, knock yourself out!“
P.S. For those of you who might think I’m a materialistic bitch, I am. I love shiny things! But I also give homeless people beer money, I regularly donate to local no-kill shelters, and have successfully fostered over 30 animals in my day. Plus I have and still would risk my life to save an animal. Or person.
Put that in your judgmental pipe and smoke it!