I never understood why people say that. Isn’t it kind of redundant? Or is that the point? At this early hour and with all that is on my mind, I’m sure I’m missing something.
I was reading No Pithy Phrase’s latest post and instantly traveled back in time several years.
At 4:40 one morning, I got a phone call. Calls in the middle of the night are never good news, unless it’s your drunk friend singing 80s songs in your ear because she thinks it’s so funny.
The non-BF: (no “Hello” but) I think I’m all right. Not sure about the truck, though.
He sounded a bit high. And he is totally “hugs, not drugs,” so I was caught off-guard.
Me: Mmphmmph, ack, hello?
The non-BF: Oh, here’s the ambulance. I gotta go.
What the holy HELL?
So what do I do? The most obvious and
logical hysterical thing I can do: I get in my car and start driving around, looking for accident sites. At five a.m. Without a clue where the accident happened. Finally, I stop my shallow breathing and crying and turn my car around to head back home.
For three of the longest hours of my life, I sat in the bathtub emptying and refilling the tub when the water got cold, all the while calling the non-BF’s cell phone every two minutes. And crying like I hadn’t cried in years. Eventually, an unknown number popped up on the screen and I answered it by yelling out his name with a question mark at the end.
It was a nurse who told me the non-BF was fine. She let me know which hospital he was at, so I called my mom and we took off together. Walking into the trauma room (I still cringe when I hear those two words together), the non-BF was in good spirits and making the doctor laugh a lot. He is like me in that when the crisis is too much to deal with at the moment, everything – and especially the crisis – becomes a joke. It’s an excellent coping mechanism, and much more tolerable than bitching and/or crying about whatever happened. Just my opinion. Anyway, it has served me well over the years.
He and I were very fortunate: I got to take him home that same day. I realize it could have been much worse – it could have been the very worst scenario imaginable. Even though he was (and still is) the Worst Patient In The World, I didn’t mind because he was still alive! Family stepped in to give me a rest and I remember looking at myself in the mirror a week later and thinking how I seemed to have aged ten years in seven days.
We will never really know how the accident happened, but from the force of the impact and from how far the minivan cab rolled, the police thought it must have been a semi that hit the cab as it entered the highway on the way to the airport (he was going on our vacation early, and I was to meet him three days later…instead we spent our vacation arguing about him not taking his pain pills, stubborn ass!). To this day, I still give truck drivers the evil eye. No offense to those truckers out there who drive carefully – I am and probably always will be biased. How do you cause an accident like that and not even stop to help? Unimaginable bastard. It took about two years before I finally stopped wishing horrible things for that person.
So I hope that Jess‘ husband has a quick recovery. I hope that she doesn’t go stir-crazy sitting by his side at the hospital. And I also hope that all of you tell at least one loved one today how remarkable and special they are to you. Life is fleeting. Say “I love you” while you still can.
P.S. I learned my lesson that time – bring in reinforcements. That way you have someone to commiserate with when things get difficult (like him trying to do way too much while he is all injured and shit). I love him dearly but Jesus H. Christ, he really is The Worst Patient In The 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.
I have to be honest with y’all, I didn’t stay smoke-free for more than about two weeks. So today, I have My Last Cigarette again…but this time, I have backup!
So if I seem a little
grumpy grumpier than usual, I have an excuse this time.
And NO, I am not going to “buy myself a present” for staying smoke-free. It will be “present” enough for me that I no longer smell like a truck stop waitress in a seedy dive bar. And that I totally lose my appetite when I quit smoking – that could really count in my favor.
What is it with guys and rejection? I remember one that, upon me breaking up with him, shouted, “I just knew you were a witch!” Yes, witch, not bitch. (Although I am that, too.) He claimed he was afraid that I’d now put a hex or spell or whatever witches do on him. His reasoning: You burn candles all the time. It’s my fault because it took me that long to figure out I needed to break it off with the moron.
Then there was the one I forgot I had a date with because I had already moved on to the next in a long line of losers. He stood outside my apartment, pounding on the door. “I know you are in there!!” I crawled on my hands and knees to avoid the windows (oops, forgot to draw the blinds, dumbass?), all the while on the phone with My New Future Ex-Boyfriend. A few days later, I received an email from him, spewing vitriol and calling me a lot of probably well-deserved choice names. The last line of the email: “I’m going to call the Lesbian Police and report you!” What the holy hell? Yeah, right, just because I don’t want you, that means I’ve switched sides. Stupid boys!
Then there was the one who told me early on how awful he thought it would be to be broken up with via email. Three or so months later (if even that long), after repeatedly warning him to give me some space or it wouldn’t work out (“Damn, don’t you have some guy friends to go out with or something? I don’t need someone up my ass 24/7!”), I sent him an email: “It’s over.” Dude, if you don’t want me to stab you in the back, don’t hand me the fucking knife to do it with!
I’m so lucky that I grew up, got some standards and met the non-BF. He is none of those things that drive me away: clingy, demanding, possessive, controlling, moronic or weak. How is a girl supposed to respect someone if he lets her walk all over him?
I hate it when my DVR thinks it’s okay to fast forward through a show I am watching just because I’VE BEEN WATCHING TV FOR 12 HOURS. I also hate it when I realize I’m really quite a slacker and a lazy bitch for spending my Saturday in front of the TV. I wake up to Will Wheaton bowling on the Big Bang Theory and then Saving Private Ryan. I wish I’d just I’d just stayed asleep. Bowling sucks and that movie always makes me cry. And makes me want to hug a veteran. I really, really wish there would be a world without war someday. We Americans don’t know what we have and what we take for granted each day. I totally realized that for sure when I went to a
third world country developing country two years ago. Normally, I don’t get all sentimental and shit in here but no matter what side you may be on, those incredible people who fought and died for our country and our freedom deserve absolutely every honor we can bestow upon them.
Years ago, and not that many, I would wake up in the middle of the night and wonder what the hell I did with the eight hours preceding that thought. These days, I wake up, check the number of animals in the house (plus or minus Mr. Tail when he visits), and I wonder what the hell I will do with my night. Some might call me crazy, but loving and living in a world of animal rescues kind of feels like home to me.
Once upon a time, there was one fabulous, mixed up dog, and then there were three. When Trouble left this world, I wanted to die. Luckily, my very wise mother reminded me there were more dogs counting on me. And soon thereafter, another one came into the mix. Add the tiny white dog, and we’re set. Except for the stray cat who lived under my porch that I decided to
foster adopt. In my life, there is and almost always has been a dog. Sometimes it’s beautiful, sometimes it’s ugly. Every single time, it’s LOVE. Now I have a cat, too. Crazy Animal Lady!
I found some more scraps of paper in the bottom of another purse. One of my favorites…
Me: You missed me making Sand Boobs. Him: (just a look) Me: Seriously, I had a C cup, a double D and a training bra. Then some brat comes along and destroys the big ones.
And another one I don’t really remember writing, but I’m sure it happened…
Me, on the phone with my mom: I did not have wine. My dad: muffled sounds in the background My mom: You father thinks you said you didn’t have worms.
I know there are those who say “Size doesn’t matter,” and they are usually guys, but size matters, it really does. It totally matters when you are trying to squeeze your ass into your favorite jeans and half of your stomach is coming up for air over the waistband. Celery anyone?
I give you this:
Not to be confused with #FF, even though I love it when I get a shout out. Thanky Snarky XO
Each Friday (well, each Friday I can remember to do so), I am going to link to a few blog posts I really love. They may be new or from the archives. But these are the ones that either really got to me (in a good, visceral way), made me laugh so hard I snorted gin up my nose or made me stop and think.
For my First Favorite Friday, I give you:
Not only is she honest, beautiful, real and not afraid to be who she is, she’s the one I have to blame for the serious sinus cavity damage from all the alcoholic beverages that have shot threw my nose while reading her blog. Jenny’s blog inspired me to resurrect non-girlfriend.
All of it was awesome, but especially the 1970s People Names For Dogs. I called Blindie “Beverly” for about a week after reading this post.
Totally cried over this one…who wouldn’t? (Those of you with no soul who probably also don’t like dogs and don’t give homeless people beer money, that’s who!) She is inspirational!
Kitty DrunkDrunk is my feline alter ego.
I will never, ever look at a pedicure the same way again.
Need I say more?
HAVE A FABULOUS FUCKING FRIDAY, ALL!
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.
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.
- I believe in starting the day off on a positive note, so my alarm on my iPhone is titled “Wake up, lazy bitch!”
- Found a sample of a self-tanning towlette underneath some shit on my
“junk” tabledining room table. (Of course, just a drawer wouldn’t be sufficient.) Decided to apply it to my right leg, wait the three hours and see if it really is going to be darker than my other pasty white leg. If that crap doesn’t wash off right away, it’s a Silkwood Shower for me tonight, I guess.
- Was walking into a convenience store on the way home today and a guy was standing by a car parked next to the entrance of the store. He swirled around to look at me. Him: Hey, how you doin’? Me, to myself: Are you serious? Me, to him: I’m fine, thank you. And how are you? Him: Alright, alright, alright. Just like some kind of black Matthew McConaughey.
- I was so tempted to ask if he had a joint and when he said no, I would respond with “It’d be a lot cooler if you did.“
- [I really have to stop doing movie quotes in here.]
- Last winter, on my drive home, I would see this teenaged boy out on a residential corner near a junior high school. He’d be dancing and making hand signs and pointing at people driving by. Second time I drove past him doing that bullshit, I rolled down the passenger window, yelled “Peace, baby!” and stuck up my first two fingers. After that, I’d honk and wave or give a thumbs-up when I passed by. Then it got warmer again and I haven’t seen him since. I suppose it’s too hot now for even the Crazies to come out.
- UPDATE: Right leg is still a Scary White color…
- Several years ago, when I was working at the job where I met the non-BF, it was around the Christmas holidays and I was bored because my friend and I were the only ones who didn’t take time off. I swore to her there was a recipe for Twinkie Lasagna, and I wanted to prove it. So I did an internet search for Ding Dongs, since they are made by the same company. Unfortunately for me, I too quickly clicked on the first link the search provided and screamed because I saw a huge penis just looming at me on my screen. Quickly shut that shit down and confessed to my boss when he returned from his holiday. Apparently, IT had already informed him of the “incident” and he blew them off. When I explained what I was looking for, he gave me a strange look. It was almost as though he was disappointed in my real search. Hell, I think the Twinkie Lasagna recipe makes a better story. Any ol’ bitch can talk about porn, ya know?
- I got it wrong, by the way. It was Twinkie Tacos. I cannot make this shit up. Oh, yeah, and Twinkie sushi? No fucking thank you!
- “You no like sushi? How about a Ho Ho?”
- Went to the store after work to get some liquid fabric softener. Left the store with a bag of limes and a coconut. Who the hell does that kind of shit?
- Fucking condenser froze up again. I’m really beginning to lose my patience with this shit!
- UPDATE NUMBER TWO: Still no fucking tan. These towlettes are a complete failure. Plus, they smell like orange-scented paint thinner and they are STICKY. I had to pry the right off the left one after I crossed my legs!
- [Knowing my luck, tomorrow morning I will wake up with one white leg and one brown one. If that happens, I swear to the baby Jesus and all that is holy, I’m wearing the shortest skirt I can find!]
- I recently discovered that Wormy Kitty is a southpaw. She keeps poking her left front leg out to swat at Blindie when Blindie comes to howl at her cage. (I’m not getting much sleep, just in case you wondered.) I tried to teach her to shake but Wormy just looked at me like she was thinking, “Bitch, please! I’m not a fucking dog!”
- That crazy cat keeps doing nose dives into her kitty litter. It’s quite disconcerting to hear a loud thump from the other room when you are used to peace and quiet. Okay, “sorta” peace and quiet.
- The animal situation is probably getting out of hand here. All I need is a pygmy goat, a hedgehog and a goddamned chicken and I’m set. Ready for Them to “send me away” for some “rest and relaxation.” And strong psychotropic meds.
- Honestly, I really could use the time off.
- P.S. Those towlettes? Don’t. Fucking. Work.
- UPDATED, next morning: Um, YES THEY DO. It is hot as hell but I may be wearing pants to work…