Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Maybe God is looking out for me and not allowing this to happen yet because what will I have to look forward to if the best day of my life has already happened at the age of 35? I mean, I've easily got 10 more years of really good living to do and then probably 20 more of kind of okay living after that and maybe 10 more of not knowing who I am and shitting myself. I have a point here and it is that I am still awesome in bed. I have another point and it is that God loves me so much that (capitalized) He's saving my puppy attack for when I'm in my 50's. I figure when I'm in my 50's, I'll be getting all sad and frowny about all my wrinkles and my upcoming pants-shitting days and God knows I will totally need something rad like puppies dive-bombing my face to make me feel better.
Wait. I just realized that I never just sit in a park. Actually, I barely ever go into a park at all. But when I do, I never just sit there. I'm always playing frisbee football and flying kites and reading poetry to my boyfriend, Harry Connick Jr, while he sings and feeds me grapes. Wait, I think that was in a RomCom I saw once. Nevermind. Yeah, I never go to the park.
This might be part of the reason why puppies never attack me there. Maybe I need to start sitting around in parks and see what happens. Should I bring a blanket, or do you think that will distract the puppies from their true target, which is my beautiful face? And if I don't bring a blanket, how will I protect myself from ants? Should I sit on the sidewalk instead? But I don't think a sidewalk would work, because you never see puppy attacks on concrete. They're always on grass. Think about it. And I need to make sure they are lab puppies, or maybe golden retriever puppies because everyone knows they are the cutest kind. I definitely don't want it to be schnauzer puppies. Or pug puppies. Eeeww.
I have no idea how to get only lab or golden retriever puppies to attack me. Is there a certain snack that only those breeds like? Or should I maybe hold a sign that says "Wanted: Seeing eye dog . Because I'm blind and don't have one yet" ? That would have to be a really big sign to fit all those words on it. I guess I could abbreviate, but I can't expect puppies to be advanced enough readers to understand what "Wanted: SED b/c blind" means. Shit, this is getting exhausting!
Fuck it. I'll just lay on my kitchen floor and let my cats walk over me on their way to the food bowl.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Yes, it's that time of the year people. My annual female humiliation disguised as a preventative health check. The pap smear. Also known as "The Speculum Spread" and often referred to as "The Vaginal Invasion". It's the day that your husband smirks and says something stupid like "Damn I'm glad that I'm a dude" or "At least you don't have some guy poking you in the pooper". This is the same day that you, if you are anything like me, punch your husband in the nards and yell back "Imagine that, only with a big shiny metal instrument spreading your pee hole open and then come talk to me!".
I've been putting off my pap for a couple of years. Yeah yeah mom, I know. But last week I had no choice but to schedule it because my doctor was holding my thyroid medication hostage until I agreed to come in and have it done. See, I go to my GP for just about everything. I don't have a special coochie doctor like most women. Mainly because my GP is quick and efficient and doesn't spend much time with me when I visit her. Normally this isn't such a good thing, especially when you have questions about why you are still fat after 2 years of taking thyroid pills and she's all "Maybe eat less french fries. Try it." as she's walking out the door. But I've found that when I'm there with my lady parts up in the air, I prefer that my doctor not dilly dally.
Dilly dally. Huh, I just turned into my Grandpa.
So anyway, when I called in last week for a pill refill, my doctor told me she would call in a prescription but only if I schedule my pap smear first. Quite the negotiator, that one. So I sighed and was all "Fine, but only if it's first thing in the morning because I want to make sure I'm fresh as a daisy for you, doc."
So that's how I ended up sitting on the examination table at 8:30am today, wearing nothing but a bunch of paper towels. The nurse said it was a "gown" but fucked if I saw anything gowny about that thing. It had holes that I assumed were for my arms but that was about the only thing that resembled an article of clothing. And thanks to the nurse who was all "The opening goes in the front" before she left me to strip down, because otherwise I probably would have put it on backwards and hahaha! that would have been funny when it was time for the breast exam! As soon as she left, I put one arm into the gown and promptly ripped the back of it in half.
Then I spent about 15 minutes sitting on the table reading the big poster about all the different kinds of intestinal diseases that were listed on it, sweating in the air conditioning while trying to keep my Brawny quicker picker upper gown up on my shoulders and over my boobs. Oh yeah, I also had the paper sheet over my lap "for modesty" as the nurse told me. Oh yeah? For modesty? Well thank you baby Jesus for that, because otherwise this procedure would be soooo not modest! I feel so much better about having my stomach covered while my tits and ass are hanging out all over the place!
Finally the doctor comes in and without so much as a howdy-d0, she flips out the stirrups and is all "Scoot down and put your feet up". While I'm doing that butt scootching move that all us ladies know all too well (am I right, girls??? Up top Steamy!), the doctor turns on a spotlight and aims it right at my cooter. Well I'll be damned, looks like my va-jay-jay is finally getting her moment in the limelight! I only wish she had prepared a monologue for the occasion. Instead she just sat there, all a-quiver and clenchy.
So in goes the speculum and suddenly my normally quiet doctor decides to have a conversation with me about the swine flu. She was all "So has anyone at your work been sick?" and I was all "Ummm, a few I guess" and she was all "We've been so busy here, it's just crazy" and I was all "Oh really? Haaa, well I guess it's that time of year?" and she was all "Not really, that's what is so strange about it. Okay a little pinch here..." and that was when I realized my butt cheeks were clenched so tight, you couldn't have pushed a dime in between those bastards.
It did actually go pretty fast and when she moved to my chest, I tried really hard not to laugh when my tiny little doctor had to practically climb over me to get to my right boob. It looked like she was kneading a giant ball of dough. Really white, pasty dough with a nipple.
P.S. I also had to give a urine sample and I peed all over my hand. Awesome.
Friday, September 25, 2009
What's even worse is that I somehow missed knowing that Pee Wee was on the Jay Leno show this week. How could I have possibly missed that???? I should be spanked. I mean, I'm basically his biggest fan. I even stuck with him through the jerking-off-in-a-porno-theater thing. Everyone needs to get off once in awhile. Please. It's not like he was jerking off onto a choir boys face or something. Okay, I apologize...that last sentence was just gross and uncalled for. But still a funny visual. You totally laughed when you pictured it, right? Yeah, I know you did....you guys are disgusting perverts. I love you.
Anyway, thank goodness someone left me a comment on my last post about Pee Wee being on Leno's show. Except now I have to watch that tonight instead of commenting on all of y'alls blogs. So yeah, sorry.
P.S. I kind of speed watched the Pee Wee episode and the best part was this line. "One of the benefits about having white people in Harlem is that now I can get a salad." Awesome. Would have been more awesome if Pee Wee had said it.
P.P.S. I almost passed out from the excitement when I saw Pee Wee come out (hee hee)!!
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Me: (reading awesome Jodi Picoult book)
Captain Carl: (sits down on couch) What are you watching?
Me: Ace of Cakes, but I'm not really paying attention.
Captain Carl: You just KNOW all those people that work at that place are totally stoned all the time.
Me: Hmmm, totally.
Captain Carl: Lucky bastards.
silence for 20 minutes
Me: (looking up from book) What is that cake for?
Captain Carl: Best Buddies International.
Me: What is that?
Captain Carl: It's some organization for tards.
Me: They have an organization for retarded people to make cakes?
Captain Carl: Not just cakes.
Me: So they make other bakery products too?
Captain Carl: Maybe, but I think they also do other things besides baking.
Me: I would totally buy a mentally challenged cake.
Captain Carl: The cake isn't mentally challenged.
Me: It is too! Look, it's all lopsided.
Captain Carl: They did that on purpose.
Me: That's just what they tell the buddies to make them feel better. And less, you know, challenge-y.
silence for 5 seconds.
Me: I could totally go for a mentally challenged apple fritter right now.
Captain Carl: *sigh*
silence for 5 seconds.
Me: Why are there gears on the cake?
Captain Carl: Because that's their logo.
Me: Gears? Gears are their logo?
Captain Carl: Did I stutter?
Me: That doesn't make any sense. It should be, like, a kid wearing a helmet or something.
Captain Carl: Maybe you should write a letter.
Me: I will TOTALLY write a letter!
silence while we watch Duff talk about Tom Brady coming to the Best Buddies event.
Me: I didn't know Tom Brady was from Canada.
Captain Carl: Huh?
Me: Is Tom Brady from Canada?
Captain Carl: What?
Me: Wait. I'm in Canada in my BOOK, not on tv.
Captain Carl: *blink*
Me: *hysterical laughter* Omygod that was hilarious!
Captain Carl: *more blinking*
It's official, I'm a genius.
Our other renter, Marian, went overseas for three weeks to visit her online boyfriend (I may or may not talk about that more here...I'm totally paranoid now after the whole "keeping it real" thing) and she just got back this week. We didn't see much of Emo during those three weeks. Before Marian moved in, Emo would be over several times a week. After she moved in, he was there almost every day. Emo doesn't have the best relationship with his parents and I think Captain Carl stands in as a fatherly role model when Emo gets into one of his funks. I do my best to be helpful too, but anyone who knows me in real life can tell you that I get annoyed really easily with people. Emo is really good at pushing that particular button with me, so sometimes I just avoid him completely. God bless the Captain...he's a saint.
So I was a little worried about Emo when he didn't come around much for three weeks. I asked the Kiddo about him and he indicated that he was getting tired of Emo and his drama. He was all "Everything is always about him. He never wants to talk about me." so I just assumed that was the reason we hadn't seen much of Emo lately.
Then Marian came back from her trip and Emo has been at the house every day since. But I didn't know this at first. Yesterday morning I woke up for work and discovered that our front door was unlocked. Renty and Marian are usually really good about locking up, so I was a little surprised. Then I noticed a dirty ace bandage sitting on my desk, which is right by the front door. The hell???
So the day goes by and when I get home from work, I ask Marian about the bandage. It is not hers and she doesn't know where it came from. Renty comes home soon after and before I have a chance to question him, he says "What's up with that thing?" and points at the bandage. Then Marian is all "Ooooh, I bet it is Emo's" and I was all "When was he here?" and Renty was all under his breath "When ISN'T he here?" and Marian was all "Ummm, he came over pretty late last night" and I was all "So he probably left and no one locked up after him" and Marian was all "Hmmmm". The Captain and I were in bed by 11pm that night. Apparently Emo has decided to come over in the middle of the night and hang out with Marian now. Ummmm...there is only one thing I can think of that a teenage boy would be wanting when he shows up at someone's house at 2am. Eeewwww.
Last night I had to have a little talk with Emo when he wandered over at 9pm. I had to explain that he was welcome anytime at our house, as long as "anytime" was "during the time the Captain and I are awake". Emo then apologized 12 times and said "I'm sorry you are mad at me and hate me now" over and over until I finally couldn't stand it any longer and told him to shut up and eat some dinner already.
P.S. I have no idea what Emo was using that bandage for, but it probably had something to do with the see-through fishnet shirt he was wearing.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
As I mentioned in an earlier post this week, the Captain and I were invited to a murder mystery party recently. I have never been to one, but I've always wanted to go. I liked to imagine that when I got the opportunity to attend one, it would be set in a grand old mansion and everyone would speak with an English accent and wear ball gowns and tuxedos and have masks. I have no idea why my murder mystery fantasy resembled a production of Phantom of the Opera. It just did, okay?
Several months ago, Captain Carl's brother, Mailman Mike, told me about a friend of his that throws a murder mystery party at least once a year. Let's call his friend Fiona...I have no idea why, just go with it. The Captain and I had met Fiona on a couple occasions and she seemed like a very nice lady. Weird, but nice. But then, most of Mike's friends are a little strange, on account of his Star Wars/Italian Snuff Films/Computer nerdiness. Add in Mike's girlfriend, let's call her Fairy, who is wild for comic books and alternate reality video games and you've got a recipe for...well...super dorks. Whenever we hang with Mike and Fairy, I spend most of the time looking back and forth between the three of them with a confused look on my face on account of me being too stupid to understand their jokes. Then I badger the Captain all the way home with questions like "Is she really that serious about a comic book?" and "What does GFFA stand for again?" and "Seriously, I don't see why it was so funny when I thought Mike meant God, Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit when he was talking about 'The Big Three'."
So anyway, I told Mike that I would love to come to the next murder mystery party. Imagine my excitement when I got an invitation in the mail a couple weeks ago from Fiona to that very thing! I was all jumpy and clappy and I couldn't RSVP fast enough. Another week goes by and we get a huge envelope in the mail from her. Inside are two sets of paper, bound with rubberbands with my name on one and the Captain's on the other. It was our character guide for the party. I shit you not, this thing was five pages long. Five! It listed all the characters who would be attending the party, as well as a couple pages about our characters. There was a whole page on costume suggestions. One of the words on mine was "corset". I pretty much decided right there that I would not be dressing up. First of all, I wore a corset once in my life and it was on my wedding day and it was really more like a girdle actually but I spent the whole not being able to sit down and breathe at the same time. Never again. Secondly, corsets are hot. It was August. In Texas. No, no, no and helllll no. Besides, Mike told me hardly anyone ever dresses up at her parties, so it was all good.
Here's the best part. This year's party was set on a pirate ship. Pirates, y'all! I'll admit, I was a little disappointed that it wasn't a vampire theme, but I think pirates are a good consolation prize. Sadly, neither Captain Carl or I were pirate characters. Instead we were both "land lubbers". I have no idea what Fiona was thinking. Clearly, Captain Carl was born to be on a pirate ship. Hello?? CAPTAIN Carl??
So on the night of the party, the Captain throws together a costume out of some of his old clothes. He was going for what he envisioned a tavern owner in pirate days would wear, but to me he kind of looked like a deranged pilgrim. As for me? I put on an old pair of gauchos and a pirate-ish shirt (my character was kidnapped by the captain...so I figured I would probably be disguised as a deckhand or something. Oh shut up, I don't know!) and off we went.
Holy crap, y'all. The first thing I noticed when we walked into Fiona's house was the staggering amount of decorating she had done. There was a plank, there were pirate flags, there were ship sails taller than me, there was sand everywhere....and the Pirates of the Carribbean soundtrack playing in the background. The second thing I noticed was that I was the only one not wearing an elaborate costume. Every single person was dressed in full pirate gear. It was amazing. At first. But after we'd been there for awhile and I got to meet all the other party goers, I realized most of these people probably had at some point in their lives been members of the SCA or Amptgard and I was probably the only one in the room that had never been stuffed into their locker in high school.
So we played the game by searching for clues all over her house and I really wish we had remembered to bring a sex toy with us to hide in one of the rooms for someone else to find because hello? hilarious!. But we didn't, so the Captain and I searched for about a half hour and then proceeded to spend the rest of the time sitting on our asses watching everyone else frantically search for clues and laughing at how Mailman Mike's pirate accent got thicker with every beer he drank. Turned out one of the chicks was the murderer and her husband won the game by guessing she was the murderer, which I'm pretty sure meant they were cheating but whatevs. On our way out the door after the prizes were awarded, I subtly suggested to Fiona that maybe next time she could have a 70's themed party because I already have the costume for that and I look awesome in an afro.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Me: We're coming over on Sunday for your birthday. What do you want Captain Carl to make for your dinner?
Lizard: King Ranch casserole please! I have wine and beer here already so you don't need to bring any.
Me: That's good because I really need to get my drink on and we're broke, so I'll just go on a bender on your dime.
Me: This is going to be the best 50th birthday party ever!!!
Lizard: not cool.
Me: Whatever, that joke so WAS cool! I'm going to use it every year until you actually turn 50. That gives you what, like one more year of hearing it, right? hee hee, I did it again! I'm so awesome, it's ridiculous.
Lizard: so awesome....not.
Me: (getting nervous that Lizard is truly not happy with me) Don't worry, the Kiddo still thinks you are younger than me.
Lizard: At least I still have that...
Me: (uh oh) And your health! You have your health, don't forget about that. That's a good thing to have at your age. hee hee? Is it getting old yet? I never know when to quit. P.S. Also, please remember that it is okay for me to tease you about your age because I am fat. Fat people get a free pass. Now it's your turn...make a fat joke. But not a mean fat joke. A funny fat joke. And not a "ha ha that was so mean it was funny" fat joke. A "ha ha that fat lady is hilarious!" joke.
Lizard: Okay. Once there was a lady who had an older sister and that lady was not nice to her older sister, so the older sister kicked her fat ass.
Me: Ummmm, is that a real joke? Or are you trying to tell me something?
Lizard: take a guess...
Me: (oh shit) Ummm, the first one?
She hasn't written back yet. I hope she still lets me drink her wine on Sunday.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
- You walk out of your bedroom in the morning and your cat pukes at your feet. Multiple times.
- It's been raining for five days straight and your hair makes you look like you're an orphan living a hard-knock life. every. single. day.
- You find a pair of adorable red sandals you forgot you had and you just happen to be wearing a white and red outfit and just painted your toenails red, but don't remember why you never wear the sandals. Until you get to work and develop three blisters on the walk from the elevator to your desk.
- You check your kid's grades and find out he has seven zeroes. And it's only been three weeks.
- You are late to work on purpose because you know 6:30am is the only time you have available to write a blog entry. And it ends up being a crappy one about all the things you'd like to bitch about to your husband, who is still sleeping.
- You cram two mini bagels into the toaster at one time because you don't have time to toast them separately, thanks to writing the crappy blog entry, and they get stuck and burn. You eat them anyway.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
This is my brother-in-law, Mailman Mike. He would most likely shoot me for real if he knew I was posting this picture of him. Hey, at least I blacked out his eyes! I'm all about privacy. And not getting killed by family members. You can't tell, but he has a bejeweled eye patch on. Mailman Mike never does anything halfway.
I'll give you all the details on the party soon...I've been neglecting my poor blog and all my awesome blog friends lately. Sorry about that, but real life has been a-callin'. I promise to give you all the awesome details very soon...
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
I love football. I love it so much, I want to hump the tv when NFL pre-season starts every summer. I get all hot and bothered when we go to our first high school game and the Kiddo's band plays the official NFL theme song. I practically jump Captain Carl's bones when we walk into the stadium and I smell the popcorn and see all those idiot kids walking around acting like they are just the shit and hey kid, I was once your age and I once walked around the football stadium all cocky and full of myself and guess what? You are sooo not the shit! In fact, you and all your little friends are nobody's! You are like a tiny little blip on the earth's radar. Your life is so insignificant that most of us will never notice you when you walk by and no I am not jealous of your youth and carefree life, so shut up!
So yeah, football. Since I am from Minnesota, I am loyal to my home state team. Go Vikes! I'm not as upset as some about Brett Favre and I am not here to discuss him or Jackson as a backup or how I'm still upset about Gary Anderson missing that field goal in the playoffs against Atlanta in 98 and that should have been our year in the big game, you jerk! Perfect all season and then you pick the most important moment to screw it up! Your name should have been Chokerson, not Anderson!
Anyway. So Captain Carl is, of course, a Cowboys fan. Because we live in Dallas. And because apparently he loves teams who can't win a game in the playoffs. Oooooh, snap! Oh no I didn't!!
The Cowboys played the Vikings last Friday night and even though it was just a pre-season game, it was a big deal to us because hello rivalry! We decided to make things a little bit more interesting since neither 1st string QB's were playing...we made a bet. If the Vikings were ahead at the half, Captain Carl would have to give me a 15 minute back massage and a spanking (what? oh like you don't do that, shut up!). If the Cowboys were ahead, I would have to give Captain Carl a blowjob "to the finish". What? The finish is the worst part! The Captain is always all "I read if you eat pineapple it tastes sweet" and I'm always all "Then how come you never eat pineapple?" and he's always all "Oh right, like that would make you do it more" and I'm always all "Your mom does it more" and he's always all "She probably does!" and I'm always all "Blech!!!" and he's always all "I win!".
So the game starts and the Captain is all "Oh man, my blowjob is going to be soooo awesome" and "Boy oh boy, I sure do like blowjobs". He was so sure his precious Cowboys were going to woop up my Vikes. Yeah, that didn't happen. With 3 minutes left in the 2nd quarter, the Vikings were up by two touchdowns and looking strong. I chose this moment to start rubbing (ha!) it in. There was a long pass and I started pumping my fists in the air and yelling and then I was all "oooh ouch, my shoulder is killing me" and "You know what's really weird? My lower back is suddenly bothering me for some reason!" and the Captain was all "Damnit, Cowboys! You cost me a blowjob! I'm totally writing Jerry Jones a letter." I went ahead and wrote it for him. I just need to get Mr. Jones email address and we're good to go....
"Dear Jerry Jones,
Sincerely, Captain Carl"
Friday, September 4, 2009
So she had the balls to tell me in the spring that they were coming down in August and I was all excited and clappy but figured she'd forget about me when the day got closer. But she didn't...she emailed about two weeks ago and we made plans to meet up for lunch.
On Saturday the Captain and I met up with Betsey and her Mister at a mexican restaurant that turned out to be the place where the frozen margarita machine was invented. I don't know if that is true, but I do know that they make a kick ass sangria swirl frozen margarita, so whatevs. The Captain and I drank a lot and were pretty much completely in the bag after two hours of eating and talking. I'm sure we came across as super intelligent and great conversationalists. Especially after I spit a chip halfway across the table and then said something like "I told Emo to stop putting the pussy up on a pedestal". Classy, right?
Luckily we had cameras along to document the event. And even luckier, I have photoshop. Because Captain Carl took these pictures and they were a hot tranny mess in their original condition. That man has no photography skills...let's just leave it at that. So I figured as long as I was fixing them, I'd do a little work to make Betsey and me seem a little less, ummm....sloshed. Did it work?
But if I'm going to be honest here, we spent most of our lunch doing this....
No, we are not sneezing. We are laughing. I love having friends I can laugh like this with, especially if we are laughing at Captain Carl and his inability to take a good picture.
So even though Betsey and I look nothing alike and we live in different states and lead very different lives, we actually have quite a lot in common.
We both have super important and serious blogs.