Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Be Patriotic And Enter My Giveaway! It's Not Really All That Patriotic! But It Does Have A Mullet! Seriously! Exclamation Point!
Pats self on back.
High fives self.
Puts a boot in someone's ass.
Gives self sensual boob honk.
So the 4th of July is coming up. This is my 4th favorite holiday....I know what you're thinking and yes, I will tell you my three most favorite holidays starting with 3rd place because I want to keep you in suspense about my number one. That's what she said.
3. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day - technically I am not African American, but I do support civil rights because I'm not a nazi or a skinhead or my 99 year old grandpa. Also, I get a day off from work for this holiday, so that makes civil rights even more delicious. And by delicious, I mean equal and fair and sleeping in. Take that, grandpa!
2. Christmas - Presents, food, baby Jesus, sexy santa panties...seriously, what's not to love about this holiday?
1. Halloween - Fall is my favorite season and I love everything about Halloween. I have a love/hate relationship with all things scary...I'm drawn to scary movies, but yet I'm filled with anxiety thinking about watching them. Same thing with haunted houses. I'm such an enigma, it's not even funny y'all. Plus, Halloween is about the time in Texas when it starts to cool off and I can finally put a bra on without sweating.
So anyway, I figured I've won several awesome prizes from some pretty cool bloggers recently...it's time I give back a little. I'm like the Oprah of blogging. Plus I am dangerously close to getting 100 followers....triple digits, y'all ! So I'm fixin' to have myself a little giveaway on this here blog as a celebration of my awesomeness. This isn't the giveaway post though....this is a teaser post. You know, to get your giveaway juices flowing. Eeew.
I'm taking Thursday off so I can have an extra long holiday weekend with Captain Carl. In honor of my own personal hump day (tee hee, get it?) the giveaway will be posted on Thursday. And yes, it really does involve a mullet.....
God Bless America and Toby Keith!
P.S. I stole the sensual boob honk move from Kurt. I figure I just stepped it up a notch by doing it to myself. Rawr.
Monday, June 29, 2009
My life is so exciting, I can hardly stand it.
So on Saturday, Renty wanders in while I'm watching yet another bad Lifetime movie. I'm pretty sure this one had a dingo and a stolen baby in it. Renty tells me he's got a date that night....he just got divorced and this will be his first date since becoming single again, so this is big news. Because I'm nosy and slightly tipsy, I ask him how he met her. He says he met her at the community pool in our subdivision. I asked if she lives in our neighborhood and he says "Well, her mom does" and then just stares at me. He looks a little scared and embarassed suddenly, so of course I press on. I'm all about getting the details, people. I say "Oh yeah? Does she live with her mom or somewhere else?" and he says "Well, it's kind of a weird situation..." Oh, do tell!
"See, she's only 23 years old".
Renty is 41 years old.
Of course, my response was totally mature. "No shit?? Go on with your bad self!".
This seemed to distress Renty even further. He told me he's a bit nervous because this will be his first date in many years. And I'm all nodding and making "Mmmm hmmm, right" sounds, but in my head I'm thinking Does she know how much you love cats??? Then he told me that they met a few weeks ago, but so far all they've done is text. To which I say "Well, you know how the youngsters are these days with their texting and tapping and what not" and I'm not sure if he knew I was teasing him, but he kept talking so I guess I didn't offend too much. He's all "Yeah, she keeps asking me which weekends I don't have my kids, so I'm starting to think she was hinting at something." and I was all "Ya think?" and he was all "I figured she wanted to go out sometime." and I was all "Yes, and she probably wants to come over and 'See your room' if you know what I mean." and then I was all winky and nudgy and he just stared at me blankly.
After he went upstairs, I started thinking about what it was about him that attracted a 23 year old? He's in a pretty good shape, relatively attractive. But definitely not the type of guy I would think a just-barely-old-enough-to-drink-legally girl would be into to. I don't think he's the type to act like he's rich or more important than he is. He drives a beat up car. He has two young children and is recently divorced. This just wasn't adding up to me. A few hours later, he comes downstairs and asks me if I like his outfit for his date and that's when I figured it out. He's a nice guy. A genuinely nice guy. And I think that is what this young lady was attracted to...his niceness.
Either that, or she's got major daddy issues.
It's probably the daddy thing, right?
Friday, June 26, 2009
I don't know if you've heard, but y'all! Michael Jackson died. I'm letting you know because I haven't seen much about it on tv, so I'm not sure if everyone has found out yet.
That was me being sarcastic. Did you pick up on it? Big ups to those of you who did, because that shit was subtle.
Seriously though, I'm mourning a little bit over here. I'm mourning for the MJ I knew and loved. The Off The Wall MJ. The Thriller MJ. The MJ that I had a crush on when I was 10. The MJ I had a poster of on my bedroom wall....the one with him wearing the yellow sweater vest.
It's sad when someone so iconic leaves this world. It's even more sad when you text your friend, DZ, about it and she says "Well that's one less child molester in the world". Because maybe he was or maybe he wasn't, but that's what most people think of when they think of him. But not me. Nope. I'm gonna think about the MJ with the Pepsi fire hair and the moonwalking and the glove and the big nose and the black skin. The weirdo MJ has no place in my memory, because we gotta hang on to some of the things from our past that are good and fine and innocent. And also because PYT is still one of my favorite songs and I really don't want to be ooged out when I hear it because hello, he was probably singing about little boys and not teenage girls.
My stepdaughter has been here this week visiting. She and the Kiddo are 18 and 17 years old, so the only Michael Jackson they remember is the creepy one. I asked them what they thought of him dying and the Kiddo said "Yeah, that sucks. Can I go to the mall?". So deep, that one. My stepdaughter was all "It's terrible! How will I ever get to see him in concert now!" and I was all "You wanted to see him in concert?" and she was all "Yes, and I was going to get seats really close to the stage and he was going to pull me out of the crowd and up on the stage and then I was going to do the moonwalk!" and I was all "Just like Courtney Cox and Bruce Springsteen!" and she was all "Bruce Who?" and I was all "Springsteen...you know, The Boss?" and she was all "Huh?" and I was all "Born in the USA? Glory Days? Dancing In The Dark?" and she was all "Was he popular back in the olden days?" and I was all "No, he was big when I was a kid" and she was all "Yeah, that's what I meant...way back in the 80's" and then I told her to shut up and go mow the lawn.
I feel old.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Emo never disappoints when he stops by. His clothing choices are always the same, but his accessories are legendary. Last night he was wearing his fangs (of course) and a cowboy hat pulled low over his face. But it wasn't just a cowboy hat. It was a work of weird, teen angsty art. It appeared that Emo had embellished it with anything he could find that might be sharp and pointy. There were strange things hanging off the brim and he had drawn stuff all over it that I couldn't really make out but it resembled pictures of skulls and boobies.
But the absolute best part, the piece de resistance if you will, was the hole. Emo had cut an opening into his cowboy hat about the size of a golf ball, resulting in a hole that he could look out of. Only one though, because two eye holes would be ridiculous.
So the Kiddo came home 45 minutes later and after Emo left, I asked him what he thought of the new hat.
Kiddo: That is one of the dumbest things I've ever seen him wear.
Me: Wow, even dumber than the contacts?
Kiddo: Oh yeah. But not as dumb as the gas mask.
Me: Excuse me?
Kiddo: He tried to wear a gas mask to the mall yesterday.
Me: Ummm, where did he get a gas mask?
Kiddo: I have no idea, but no way in hell was I walking around the mall with him wearing it.
Me: Oh come on, you could have just told people he was your retarded cousin.
Kiddo: I told him he was a freak and I'm drawing the line at gas masks.
Me: That's a good line to draw.
Kiddo: And he was all "Hey man, I'm being original" and I was all "YOU'RE. WEARING. A. GAS. MASK."
Monday, June 22, 2009
There is one thing about Renty that is a bit disturbing. Renty loves my cat. I mean, he really LOVES my cat. Things started out normal when he moved in...he would pet Max whenever he saw her, but that was about it. Then about a week after he got here, he started calling her "princess". Then the baby talk started. "Hewo wittle pwincess! Who's a wittle pwincess? You are! That's wite, you are!"
But a few days ago, Renty did something that kind of freaked me out. He kissed my cat. Not on the lips, thank God. He kissed her on the head. But still! It's creepy, yo. Even Max is weirded out by it. He does it every time he sees her now. Luckily, I have The Claw ready at all times, just in case he goes for the lips.
Also, today I had to put Renty's underwear in the dryer because he left it in the washer. You know, I figured one of the perks of getting married was that I would only have to touch one man's underwear for the rest of my life. No more surprises, like when you were dating that one bartender and found out later that he wore g-strings...or like when you went out with that mechanic because you were going through your "it's what's on the inside that counts" phase and then it turned out his idea of clean underwear was turning the pair he wore yesterday inside out.
That shit better not happen again, because Miss Yvonne don't wash no cat molester's underwear. No sir.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
When I told Captain Carl what we were doing, he said I should get something pierced. Preferably my nipples. I told him I wasn't interested in piercing anything, so he suggested a tattoo. I told him I didn't want to do that either because I'm afraid I'll pick something that I will end up hating in 20 years. So he said to just put it somewhere only he can see. So I was all "okay, I'll get a butterfly on the bottom of my big toe" and he was all "I'm talking about your ass" and I was all "I suppose a could put a flaming skull in my armpit" and he was all "Or maybe on your boob" and I was all "I got it! I'll put 'Your Mom' on my middle finger".
Yeah, I didn't do that. Maybe next time.
So DZ and I go and the place was brightly lit and the walls were covered in really bad graffiti-type art. Heavy metal music was blaring and there was a dude getting his side tattooed with red butterflies which didn't look manly or tough at all so I'm not really sure what he was going for. All I know is it didn't match his tongue ring and I was about to tell him that when I got distracted by the dude sticking a needle in his skin. He looked straight out of Miami Ink, so I got all bouncy and asked him if he knew Kat Von D and he was all "No" and I was all "I mean, have you met her?" and he was all "No" and I was all "But she's come in here, right?" and he was all "No" and then I was all "But she probably will someday, right?" and then he was all "Are you wasted? Because we don't tat drunk people" and I was all "Ohmygod, you think I'm here to get a tattoo??? That is soooo awesome!" and then I clapped a few times and skipped over where DZ was picking out her nose hole jewelry and pretending she didn't know me.
Once DZ picked out her stud (that's what she said) we were taken down a separate hallway to "The Piercing Room". Inside the room was a stretcher bed thing and a counter with latex gloves and cotton swabs and a bio hazard garbage can. DZ was looking a little nervous at this point, so I told her that if she squinted it would be like she was in a doctor's office getting a pap smear, only up her nose instead of her vagina. This was meant to relax her, but for some reason I don't think it worked because she threw her purse at me and told me to shut the hell up.
So the doctor comes in and guess what? He's not a doctor, he's just a guy with tattoos on his shins and hands. But he doesn't have any piercings so I'm all "Can I see your credentials please?" and he was all "Excuse me?" and I was all "Your piercing credentials. From the piercing academy." and he was all "blink" and I was all "Because you don't have any piercings plus there are no piercing certificates on the wall back here, so how do I know you're qualified to put holes in my friend?" and he was all "I've worked here 11 years and I do have piercings, just not where you can see them." and I was all "Like in your penis?". That's when he started ignoring me. Weird, right?
So the actual piercing took about 30 seconds and I watched the whole thing with fascination. Dr. Piercy was quick and the hole went in the right place and DZ only bled a little bit, so I guess you could call it a success. She texted me this morning to tell me her one year old almost ripped it out when he hit her in the nose. So I'm making her a bracelet that says "WWKVDD" (What Would Kat Von D Do) so she can remember to keep her nose away from dangerous objects and children.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Every day for the last week, I'll be at work and I'll think "Oh I have to remember to put gum in my purse when I get home so I'll have some tomorrow for after lunch" and then I forget. And then the next day I'm all pissed off because my mouth tastes like old tuna. You don't realize how awesome gum is until you really really need it.
My stupid thyroid is being a jerk again and I'm falling asleep at my desk at 2:32 every afternoon. I don't want to go back to the doctor because I know I'm overdue for my pap smear and my doctor is going to be pissed when she asks me if I've been to the gyno yet and I tell her no again. And besides, I don't want to get it done because my pubes haven't grown long enough to shape into a fancy mohawk yet.
My cats won't stop shedding and puking. My house is like the Rock of Love bus except instead of pubes and human vomit, it's covered in fur and hairballs. Also, we don't have Bret Michaels. Which really is okay with me because dude looks like a walking disease. At least I know that my cats don't have gonorrhea or crabs.
I have a dental cleaning tomorrow morning at 7am and an eye exam at 11am. Nothing better than a little bit of plaque scraping followed up with that stupid machine that blows air into your eyes. The only way tomorrow could get better is if I had scheduled that pap smear for the afternoon. And while we're on the subject, what is up with that air blowy thing? I hate that machine so hard. The eye doctor is all "put your chin here and stare directly into the light" and you know what's coming so you're all clenchy and then he bumps the machine by accident and you're all "Gah!!" and jump back in your chair and he's all "Oopsy daisies. Just go ahead and put your chin back on here" and you do but you're eyes are all bulgy and your eyelids are all fluttery in preparation and so you're doing this rapid blinking thing and you're eyes are getting really dry and you have a death grip on those little bars on either side of your head and you just know the doctor is loving this and so he's taking his sweet time with the air and then you think you hear a clicking noise so you're all "Holy shit!" and jump back again and he's all "Ma'am this isn't the machine that blows the air" and then you karate chop him in the throat.
My company's CEO came for a visit today and had a little "town hall meeting" and I had to sit through two hours of him talking about how things will get worse before they get better, but hey turn that smile upside down friends! because we're almost down to our "core group" of employees and then things will really get better. Thanks for the subtle hint that more layoffs are coming. P.S. That dude's salary was $31 million dollars last year. Up yours, Richy Rich.
That's it. I'm drinking a whole bottle of wine when I get home tonight.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
So after struggling for three hours with a project that should have taken no more than an hour, we finally got some shade in our family room. And since I was already sweaty and hot from all that business, I decided to clean the floors. I even cleaned under the furniture, people. That's how serious I was about the cleaning because everyone knows you only clean UNDER the furniture when you really mean business or when your mother-in-law is coming over. I found two cat toys, three used kleenex, one penny, one token for an amusement park I've never heard of and about 50 dust balls.
By the time both of us had showered, it was 7pm. The Captain grilled some hamburgers and then we zoned out on the couch for a few more hours. 9:30pm rolled around and we decided to go to bed. Our new renter, I'll call him Renty until I think of something better, came downstairs as we were heading to the bedroom. I had my purse with me, because I don't leave it out in the kitchen anymore. So I guess I looked like I was leaving because Renty asked me if we were going out for the night. To which the Captain and I laughed hysterically.
Once we were in bed, the Captain put on his CPAP mask and watched TV while I clipped coupons and made a grocery list. At 10pm on a Saturday night.
Our life is so exciting it's ridiculous.
P.S. The Kiddo got a job and his first day was today. He's cooking in a fast food restaurant. I'm so glad too, because our new renter is really great so far and I don't have a lot of funny things to tell about him besides his weird fascination with my cat, so at least I'll get some good fast food stories for y'all soon.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
This morning I spent about an hour reading through everything he's written in the past six months. I have never seen so many "ttly's" and "dude's" and "OMG's" in my life. Surprisingly, he curses a lot less than I thought he would. But then, that probably has something to do with the fact that his Granddad Ward and Uncle Mailman Mike are also his friends. One thing he does do a lot is talk about how awesome he is. Not a surprise. What's also not a surprise is all the girls that write things to him like "OMG, ur pic is soooo cute! I ttly love it!" and "Whatsup zexy?" and "Plse don't quit band next yr!".
Okay, old lady moment in 3, 2, 1.... What the hell is up with the abbreviations? How much harder can it be to add the "ea" to the word "please"? Slacker kids. When I was their age I spelled out complete words, and I put them in notes and passed them in class because we didn't have cell phones and facebook! All we had was notebook paper and a pencil, and we were happy to have it! Also I walked to school uphill, both ways.
Anyway, I found a few things the Kiddo wrote that made me chuckle. For example, he wrote this right after he smashed up his car:
"My car broke down the day after I got off my grounding."
I love how he doesn't mention the fact that he backed into a parked trailer and THAT is the reason his car is broken down. Excellent omission, way to be evasive son!
And then a few days after that:
"My car is now street legal but I can't go anywhere."
Probably because his jerky parents grounded him for busting up the car that was in mint condition three weeks prior. Psshhh, parents. Losers.
But then I read further back and found a comment that decidedly stood out from all the rest. Someone asked him how the SAT test went for him and his response was:
"I ttly bent it over and took it to brown town."
That's my boy. I'm so proud.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Eco Nazi and Kool Aid have left the building, and Holy Elvis am I happy about it. They vacated our house early this morning. Apparently they were just as anxious as we were for them to leave, because they had their suitcases in the driveway at 6:30am when I left for work.
But before I walked out, I noticed that they had left a huge pile of trash next to the garbage can in the kitchen and a bunch of dirty dishes in the sink. I'm pretty sure I muttered "Idiots" and when I turned around Eco was standing behind me holding his fish tank. So I said hi and he just glared at me and went back upstairs. Oooookay then.
After that pleasant exchange, I walked towards the front door but stopped when I noticed a letter on the counter that had been written on and ripped out of a spiral bound notebook. It was from Eco:
checking account number 000blahblah1234idiot567 on it and
deposit it in Moron Bank, N.A. as soon as possible.
We were going to vacuum our room but we were not allowed
to use it last night or this morning.
Secondly....dude? Seriously. That's not how this works. See, you don't just get all your money back. Especially when you stain the carpets and ruin pizza pans and leave a chocolate ice cream puke stain in our driveway (I forgot to tell you guys about that one). And if you do get lucky enough to get any of your deposit back, we will send you a check. We are not your personal bank runners. Nice try, asswipe.
And third, the vacuum thing. Last night at about 10pm, Eco and Kool Aid decided to bestow upon us one last gift before moving out. They made a tuna casserole. Yep. So I went to bed at 10:30 with hot tuna smell wafting into my bedroom. Do you know what kind of dreams happen when you sleep while breathing hot tuna smell? Fucked up dreams, that's what kind. I woke up at 2am from a nightmare involving Lindsay Lohan and a cat with a yeast infection.
Anyway, while they were assembling their tuna casserole, Eco asked me if we have a vacuum. Ummm, yeah. That thing that gets turned on every weekend downstairs and is really loud and sucks up shit? That's a vacuum. So yes, we do have one. Hilarious that they've never used, huh? So I tell Eco where it is and after he drags it upstairs, Captain Carl asks him if he plans on using it right then and Eco says he's thinking about it and the Captain says I wouldn't if I were you. That's when I went to bed.
Apparently after that, they started banging around in the kitchen and the Captain had to tell them to knock it off and finish up in the morning. We had no idea they were planning to leave at the crack of ass the next day, so I guess the vacuum comment in his note was Eco's attempt to establish that we prevented them from cleaning.
Right. Again, nice try asswipe. Bye bye now....and good luck and meh. Whatever.
Okay people, let's all pray to baby Jesus and Oprah that we find a new renter for the empty room soon and that whoever it is won't be a giant douche bag.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
The place was pretty cool and therefore we totally did not belong there. But I think we disguised our uncoolness really well. The Captain and I decided to wear crocs and t-shirts that said "I'm with stupid" with an arrow pointing to each other. Except we sat on the wrong sides and so our arrows were pointing in opposite directions and made it look like we were referencing the people sitting at the other tables and how do you know they weren't stupid? so shut up. My point is that we so totally blended in with the hip crowd that people kept coming up to me and asking "Are you Lisa Loeb?" and I would answer "Yes I am" and then I would autograph their napkins with "Your mom stays. Love, Lisa".
Lisa Loeb is still hip, right?
Here's a pic of the restaurant. What you can't see is Captain Carl just off to the left swinging his flaming marshmallow around like a lasso. Good times.
So then we convinced Lizard and her man to come with us to the jazz club. They hung in for about an hour and then decided to leave. Too bad for them, because they missed out on the best thing that happened all night. You're probably thinking what could be more awesome than mango s'mores? and I will admit the s'mores were great, but they ain't nothin' compared to this.
Well hi there old people! Hey, you know how you're sitting at one of those high tables with the stools? And you know how most everyone else in the place is sitting in booths that are way lower than your table? Yeah maybe next time not so much wine drinking, huh? Because I didn't come here to see you two old geezers drunkenly groping each other. And hey old lady? Ass crack is really not sexy enough to shove your hand down into in public. I mean, it's no boob cleavage. I wouldn't know (thank God), but I bet sweaty old man butt doesn't exactly smell like roses. Just sayin'.
P.S. Two more days until the moron twins move out! Squee!!!
Friday, June 5, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
I love this blog and I especially love Live It, Love It's TMI Thursdays. I decided to join in today. Lucky you. So without further achoo..... It's about to get all kinds of TMI up in here. Back slowly out of the room now if you don't want to read about my lady business maladies.
Still here? What kind of sick fucker are you, wanting to read about that??? You're gross. I think I love you. Call me!
I pretty much live my life in fear of getting a yeast infection. I got my first one in college after my dermatologist put me on antibiotics for acne. I started noticing on my walks to classes that I was a little, ummmmm.....itchy. That's not a cool feeling. Girls, back me up on this one. How do you take care of an itch like that in public? If you're a guy, you just reach down there and scratch it. Based on how many men I've seen do that, I guess it's just acceptable behavior for them. But not for a woman. Have you ever seen a woman do that? I have not, luckily for me because it would be yucky. I can't even stand to watch a girl pick her underwear out of her butt....and I HAVE actually done that, but only when I'm wearing my "None of my good underwear is clean and I'm down to the stretched out boy shorts that are saggy in the cheek area" panties. So it was okay. For me. Not for you. It's blech if you do it.
So things started out pretty mild for me that first time. A bit of an itch when I would walk longer distances, but that was about it. Then I started to get worried when it became a more constant itch and then it finally got so bad that I had to fight the constant urge to grind sandpaper against my coochie. What's really sad about this is that I didn't know what a yeast infection was. I was 20 years old and neither my mother nor my doctor had told me about them. Plus I had a boyfriend that I was pretty sure was cheating on me, so I worried that it might be an STD. So I called him and I was all "Hey, here's something weird...my cooter itches like a mofo. Any ideas?" and he was all "That's disgusting" and I was just about to yell "You did this to me! YOU'RE disgusting!" when I turned the page of the magazine I was looking at and saw an ad for yeast infection cream. It was like a sign from God or maybe from my inappropriate Aunt Donna who says things to me like "Make sure your doctor is only doing a breast exam and not feeling you up. If he pinches your nipples more than once, that's a bad sign." The magazine ad said something in big bold letters about extreme vulva itch being a symptom of a yeast infection. Which to me sounds like a great name for a game show. Join us to see if Jody can scratch her way to a million dollars, next time on Extreme Vulva Itch!
Anyway, I got all excited at the prospect of having a yeast infection because yea! no STD. I bounced off to the drug store and proudly bought the cream and smiled real big at the clerk because hi! I don't have an STD! And the clerk smiled back at me sweetly but I'm sure she was thinking good luck with your STD...you're not fooling anyone with that Vagisil, missy.
Fast forward to the present day and I am no longer happy about the yeast infections. I mean, seriously? It was like that first one back in college opened the door to dozens of others just like it. A yeast infection is like the extended family members that keep showing up at your house uninvited. Except not the fun family members. It's always creepy Uncle Mark who tells you to sit in his lap and reach into his pocket for a butterscotch candy. Or your cousin Tammy who always points out how much better her life is than yours and her four bratty kids that keep touching the candy dish your mom painted in ceramics class when you were a baby and then they break something and Tammy just laughs and says "oh kids, gotta love 'em!" and then you laugh too but then you kick her in the vagina so she can't shoot out anymore of those assholes. That is exactly what yeast infections are like.
And what the hell, yeast? Must you always show up at the first sign of stress in my life? Like it's not bad enough that the Captain is trying to find a job and we have idiot renters living in our house and my job sucks. Now you wanna move into my vagina and set up camp? Awesome. Also, thanks for coming on the same day my period starts because now I can't wear tampons because of you.
So now when I feel my little yeasty friend is about to show up, me and my poor itchy vagisaurus trudge off to the drug store, pick up the one-day cream because damned if I'm going to suffer through putting that shit up in the fun canal for three or seven days anymore, and then sigh when I realize the cashier is a 16 year old teenage boy. Hey life, go fuck yourself.
The only fun part about having a yeast infection is hanging out in the bathroom and waiting to insert the medication until the exact moment I hear Captain Carl walk in, so that I can see him freak out and scream "Wait! Bah!!! Ahhh! Gross!!" and then run out of the room. Hey Captain, that's for saying "Again?" when I told you I had a yeast infection and then insisting on calling it my "cooch funk".
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
So I won something super cool over at Stir Crazy in the Suburbs...an electronic Wolverine battle claw that her son didn't want because it was "queer". Saaweet!! She picked me because I said I would punch my renters in the face with it if I won, and she agreed to send it to me but only if I provided photographic evidence. And I was all "fuck yeah! Any reason to punch those jerks!" and so she sent it.
Dudes, this claw is sooooo NOT queer. It's like the most super awesome plastic claw I've ever owned. I mean, it has this!
Electronic sounds, people! I stuck some batteries in it and wouldn't you know? It makes a sound vaguely reminiscent of butter knives clinking together when you extend the claws. Hot damn!
And the best part? The claws extend when you fling the handle thingy forward, so you're all "Dum dee dum, here I am with a giant plastic fist. What's that? Someone is getting mugged down the street? Wapawww!!" and out come the claws.
This thing is so awesome, we call it "The Claw" and we say it in a deep wolveriney voice.
So yeah...I promised to take pics of me punching the renters with my radical claw. Ummmm, see it's like this....what had happened was, basically I was unable to get any actual pictures of the attack. Because it happened so suddenly, as claw attacks are prone to develop in the blink of an eye. A blink, people! Eco was getting some ice cream and I saw him drip some on my kitchen floor and when he walked away without cleaning it up, the claw just appeared as if from nowhere and suddenly I was bitch slapping him with it. So yeah...no time to get a picture.
That may or may not have happened.
Bottom line, I did not get the promised picture. But instead, I offer you these....
This is the Kiddo showing me what he thinks of The Claw.
Excellent finger extension, son! Isn't he cute? I love his sweet yellow face.
The Claw often shows up on Captain Carl's hand. He mostly uses it to do this...
Somehow The Claw ended up in my cleavage today. I'm pretty sure the Captain dared The Claw to do it. And because The Claw is a bad ass, he totally did.
After it copped a feel, The Claw and the Captain high-fived and the Captain was all "Get some!" and The Claw was all "Titties!" and the Captain was all "Dude, that was wicked awesome" and The Claw was all "Yeah, wait until she goes to bed!" and the Captain was all "Hey man, that's my wife" and The Claw was all "I know...honk honk" and the Captain was all "Don't make me retract you" and The Claw was all "Aw come on man, I was just playin!" and the Captain was all "Just don't let it happen again" and then The Claw was all "Sure sure, sorry......honk".
Then The Claw moved on to more important matters....BATTLE!
After the boob honking, The Claw starts wandering around the house, looking for his next victim and poor Max was just sitting there, minding her own kitty business. So The Claw started poking her.
And Max was all "Bitch, you best get out my face" and The Claw was all "Your mother was a barn slut" and Max was all "Watch your mouth" and The Claw was all "Your mom watches my mouth" and then Max was all "That's it! Get me some vaseline, these rings are comin' off"....and then the battle began.
The Claw went for the jugular right away....
But Max fought back with a bite to the The Claw's pointy finger....
And then unleashed her secret weapon...the head butt....
But it was all for naught.....The Claw was too powerful and electronic for Max and she was forced into submission.
And now The Claw sits on the fireplace mantel as a warning to past, present and future renters...
Be careful what you say or do.....those who dwell in this house have the power of The Claw in their grasp. Also, you pay us to live here so you know, don't be a jerk about things. I mean, would it kill you to be decent once in awhile?
p.s. Thanks Peggy for The Claw....my whole family loves you for sending it to me!
Monday, June 1, 2009
I haven't blogged about Emo too much. He's the Kiddo's best friend and I really should talk about him more here because he practically lives at our house. Emo announces his arrival at our front door with a series of loud banging and vigorous ringing of the doorbell. We always know it's him and we always yell "Come in Emo" but he never walks right in because, in his words, he "doesn't want to be rude". Then he proceeds to walk directly to our refrigerator, where he starts digging around for something to drink or eat. Once he's finished whatever he found in there, he apologizes for taking it because that's how things are done in Emoworld.
Emo is obsessed with finding, again in his words, "true love". He's 17 years old, almost a senior in high school, and his biggest concern is being in love because apparently he is a girl. This is in direct contrast with the Kiddo, who's main concerns are getting laid and driving. Between the Kiddo and Captain Carl, poor Emo gets teased a lot at our house. Sometimes I wonder why he wants to be there, but then he'll say something like "I love it over here, you guys actually talk to me" and then I get sad and all gushy in my heart for Emo and that's usually when I tell him to stay for supper. And after a few minutes of telling me no thank you he doesn't want to mooch, he stays and eats and says thank you about 50 times. I seriously heart this kid.
So last night Emo showed up and promptly asked me if I had any contact solution. Emo does not wear contacts or even glasses. So rather than ask up front, I gave him the solution and waited for the show to start. As usual, Emo did not disappoint. He dragged the Kiddo into the bathroom with him and for about 15 minutes, all I heard was Emo yelling out "Ahhh! Dang it! Come on!" while the Kiddo laughed. Then they wander out to me and Emo asked me how to put in contacts. I asked why and he holds his finger out to me and on it I see a contact lens. A red contact lens. You know, the kind that make your eyes look all weird and scary and, well, emo. This didn't surprise me in the slightest, because last weekend Emo walked in and smiled at me and would you look at that? he had fangs. Again. So it was only a matter of time before he moved on to something else equally stupid.
Apparently he got the red contacts from "some guy at an anime convention" which sounds super safe and sanitary to me, so when he asked if I thought it would be okay for him to use them, I was all "go for it, dude!" and he was all "sweet, how?" and then I told him how I put my contacts in and then laughed at him while he tried some more. Eventually I had to act like a responsible parent and tell him to stop because his eye was getting all red and puffy. He listened to me, but as he was leaving later I saw he had put in his fangs. I guess fangs are better than nothing.
Anyway, Bambi had decided to move up to one of our country's eastern states (good luck, Connecticut!), and I never really heard why. The Captain mentioned once that he thought she was going there to attend school for the summer, but I never got any details. So on Sunday morning, Captain Carl came to bed at 3:30am and told me that Eco and Kool Aid just took "them" to the airport. So my first question was "At 3:30??" and then my second question was "Them??".
Apparently Bambi had a guy staying with her in our house for four days and I had no idea. He was really quiet and I guess never ate unless she brought him food. He was like Harry Potter under the stairs or something. This guy flew here four days ago from Connecticut. She met him online and I don't know what this girl said to him....but whatever it was, it must have been really good because he's paying for her to move up there and live with him for free. Someone she'd never met in person before. Yep, I'm sure that's gonna work out.
So she's all Miss Packy Pack and then her brother drives her and her new boyfriend to the airport at 3:30 in the morning. And no, there was no 4:30am flight to catch...their flight was not until 8am. Captain Carl explained to me that Eco had agreed to drive them to the airport, but he didn't want to "get up early" so he told Bambi she had to go as soon as she was done packing. Ummm, 3:30am isn't early?? Huh. So rather than, oh I don't know, getting packed up earlier in the day and going to bed at night and getting up at 6am like a normal smart person would do, they stayed up all night and then sat at the airport for hours waiting for their flight.
Who are these people??? Seriously! I mean, who agrees to pay a stranger's way through life based only on an internet relationship? And who the hell thinks it's logical to go to the airport at 3:30 in the morning and several hours before their flight? And how did we luck out and have these people living in our house for 6 months?
And here's the best part. She left all her shit at our house. Dozens of boxes, plants, litter box, a desk, her moped.....all the things most people take with them when they move. So even though Bambi was gone yesterday, her crap was still there. When she left in the wee hours of the morning, she told Captain Carl that some guy named Charro or Champo or something like that was going to come at 9am and pick up all her stuff. Yeah, dude didn't show until 8pm. But the good news is, he took Eco and Kool Aid's huge aquarium that they were keeping their hermit crabs in and was now sitting empty on the bathroom floor. I have no idea why two hermit crabs needed an aquarium large enough for a baby octopus or why they thought it was a good idea to just dump it on the bathroom floor, but whatever. It's gone and they will be too in 8 days! I just hope Bambi's moped will be gone by then, because it was still sitting in our driveway this morning when I left for work. Awesome.
I'm getting drunk on June 9....really really drunk.