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!