Friday, February 26, 2010

Check Out The Cheeseburger On That Guy

I've never posted pictures of any of our renters for obvious reasons. But I really really wanted to give you an idea of what Renty looks like when he's kind of drunk and/or overly excited about something. He looks like the Jack Nicholson Joker, except thinner and younger and without the hat and clown makeup.

His smile covers the entire width of his face. It's equal parts hilarious and endearing and creepy.

So Renty hasn't had a whole lot to be joker face smiley about lately. I'm not going to list his person problems here because that's his story to tell, not mine. And also because I like not getting sued. Because I still can't decide if he knows about this blog or not. Probably not, but he tells me every day that he's "keepin' it real" he's trying to fuck with me and be all "I totally know about your little blog and how you make fun of me and my sayings and the way I make out with your cat".

So last night, Renty comes home from work and starts going through the mail. There's a small package for him and he gets all excited and rips it open. I'm watching the Olympics because I love sports and international relations and feel-good stories about snowboarders with head injuries and ohmygod sled dogs!!! So I'm all wrapped up in the latest Lindsay VonBlondeHair wipeout when Renty walks over and is all "Check out my new cd case!" and I look over and he's holding a giant cheeseburger in his hand.

I'm all "Ummmm, hahaaa nice cheeseburger?" and his joker smile gets even more jokery and he's all "It's a cd case!" and I'm all "Oh. Neat." and he's all *zip zip zip* "See? It opens where the meat part is and that's the inside where the cd's go!" and I'm all "Huh." and he's all *crazy smile crazy smile crazy smile* and I'm all "It's puffy" and he's all *creepy joker face stare* and I'm all *nervous laugh* "I mean, wow! Awesome! I'd never guess that cheeseburger has cd's inside it!" and he's all "It only cost me five dollars on ebay!" and I was all "And now your cd's are nestled snug between two buns. Just like your mom." and he's all "What? Oh! I get it! Haha haaaa ha haaaaaaaha aaahaaaaaaaseriouslyscaryjokersmileyface!!!!".

Then he put his cheeseburger cd holder in the pantry next to his tortilla chips. For reals.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Look Deeply Into My Eye Fist

Remember how I said a while back that we were getting a new renter? Yeah, the bitch didn't show. Just never moved in and didn't bother to call or email or anything. I thought I'd better let y'all know in case you were wondering. Because I'm the center of the universe.

So this conversation happened awhile ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday because my mind is a steel trap and almost as awesome as my boobs.

Me: So our new renter ever call you back about moving in?
The Captain: Nope.
Me: Did you email and ask her why she never showed?
The Captain: Yep. She didn't answer me.
Me: What the hell, man?
The Captain: I don't know, guess she changed her mind for some reason.
Me: That's so rude to not even call.
The Captain: Very. I wonder what happened?
Me: Hmmmm....
The Captain: What?
Me: Maybe it was my fault.
The Captain: How is that possible?
Me: I might have mentioned that she was bald on my blog. But only in passing.
The Captain: So you think this random lady who was going to rent a room from us just happens to also read your blog and figured out you were talking about her and got upset and decided not to move in.
Me: Maybe.
The Captain: Right.
Me: *squinty eyes* My blog is very popular.
The Captain: Yeah it is.
Me: *more squinty eyes* What are you trying to say?
The Captain: Nothing!
Me: *intense squinty eyes*
The Captain: What's wrong with you? Do you have something in your eye?
Me: Yeah. My fist.
The Captain: What?
Me: It's a metaphor.
The Captain: For what?
Me: For me punching you in the face.
The Captain: With an eye fist?
Me: Hell yeah with an eye fist. To the max.
The Captain: I don't think you understand what a metaphor is.
Me: *extreme squinty eyes*
The Captain: See, a good metaphor is something something something analogy something something something conveyed something something something word.
Me: Your mom's a good metaphor, punk.
The Captain: Why are you talking like Clint Eastwood?
Me: That's my eye fist talking. Right before it hits you in the mouth.
The Captain: I'm going to bed.
Me: You feelin' lucky, punk?
The Captain: *sigh* Goodnight, Dirty Harry.
Me: *scariest squinty eyes ever* That's right. Keep walkin', punk. Keep walkin'.

Monday, February 22, 2010

The Scariest Snowman In The History Of Ever

So last week we had a snowstorm and every kid in town spent their day off from school making snowmen and snow forts and snowballs and such. My kid was no different. I really didn't expect him to get that excited about it though because he's 18 years old and nothing excites him. So I was a little surprised when he ran out the front door and started throwing snowballs at my office window.

Then it got quiet. Really really quiet. 15 minutes later, he ran back in and was all "Come meet Steve" and I was all "Ummm, what?" and he was all "Steve the Snowman."

I opened the front door and there stood the scariest fucking snowman I've ever seen.

Behold, Steve.

Now, Steve probably seemed a little scarier than he really was because it was dark outside and the Kiddo positioned him so that he looked like a creepy intruder about to invade either my home or my vagina.

The Kiddo: Creepy, huh?
Me: Totally.
The Kiddo: He's gonna scare the shit out of Renty in the morning.
Me: Omygod yes! Great idea! High five!

I'm a great parent, aren't I?

What?? You're supposed to encourage your children's creativity. That's what I was doing. Encouraging.

Friday, February 19, 2010

Rock The Cat Box

Dear Captain Carl,

Thanks for proving my point by making a cat house for Max out of a cardboard box.

Just for that, I will totally make out with you when I get back from my trip.

Miss Yvonne

Thursday, February 18, 2010

It's Like I'm Psychic

Dear Kiddo,

I've been in Arizona for six days now. Take out the garbage.

Don't ask how I know that it's full.

I just do.

Love you,
Miss Yvonne

Monday, February 15, 2010

Holla At Ya Dairy

Dear Laughing Cow,

Maybe you should put directions on those babybel cheeses you sell. How was I supposed to know you have to peel the wax off before you eat them? I mean, really. Geesh.

Miss Yvonne

Saturday, February 13, 2010

I'm Totally Blowing This Popcicle Stand. That's What She Said.

I'm leaving tomorrow for a week in Arizona with my parents. I'm super excited and clappy about it, since I only see them once or twice a year. However, I am very frowny about being away from Captain Carl and the Kiddo for a whole week. The Captain and I are going to be apart on Valentine's Day, which sucks but not as much as your mom does.

And I'll miss y'all too, since my mom decided not to get an internet connection at their house this year because they live in a retirement village and there are computers with internet at the clubhouse that are perfectly good and also free, so don't roll your eyes at me little missy. Did I mention that my parents are 70 years old? Cute as the dickens, but have no use for technology. So yeah, I won't be around blog land much for a few days.

However, I've compiled a list of "to whom it may concern" letters that will be automatically posting while I'm on my trip. Because I'm an internet genius and figured out how to blog from the past. I know...I'm amazing. Go ahead and say it.

And now I'm off to play tennis and bridge and shuffleboard with my parents. For reals. It's like the Love Boat except there's no boat and instead of Captain Stubing shaking your hand, there's an old guy named Frank looking down your shirt.

P.S. Somebody please check on my house on Tuesday or Wednesday next week, okay? My rugs will need to be vacuumed by then and I won't be able to sleep on my parent's pull out couch unless I know the Captain really did it like he says he will.

I have issues. I know this.

Friday, February 12, 2010

A Lesson In Romance From My Punk Ass Kid

We're in the middle of a snowstorm here in Dallas. So far we've gotten six inches, just like your mom did last night. Tomorrow's school day is delayed two hours so far and the Kiddo is hoping it will be completely canceled. The snow has turned back time and my almost 18-year old is suddenly 10 years old again. The kid that we barely see when he's home because he's locked up in his room texting and playing his guitar and probably smoking pot has spent the last 3 hours running in and out of the house and making snow angels and yelling at me to "come out here and see what I made!".

Here's what he made.

It's a heart in the snow. For his girlfriend for Valentine's Day.

Dudes, how adorable is that? So adorable that you are totally rethinking those flowers for your wife, right?

So I offered to put my mad photoshopping skills to work and make a photo card for him to give to his girl. He wasn't too excited about it at first on account of how I'd probably make it all "gay". But I convinced him to let me try.

This was my first version:

His response: Too predictable.

Okay, I tried again:

His response: Too old fashioned. Also too gay.

I decided to try something a little different for my third attempt:

His response: Huh?

Obviously the boy knows nothing about good music.

I was at a complete loss at this point. So I sat staring blankly at my computer screen for about 10 minutes while the Kiddo went back to rolling around in the front yard like a crazy stray dog.

Then genius struck:

His response: Sweet.

I'm totally going to work for Hallmark.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Thank You, Creepy Blog Stalker Lady!

I got an email this morning from someone only going by "Mimi" who sent me a link to this awesome website. I don't know who you are Mimi, but I love you. I love you like Renty loves my cat...a little too much for "normal people" standards. Probably even a little bit more than that because you've never puked on my furniture. Yet.

I'm also a little bit afraid of you because of the line "you don't know me, but I read you" that you dropped at the end of your email. That's the kind of comment that leads up to emails that say "I loved your last blog, can you please send me a a couple pieces of your hair?" and "I told my mom about you and she thinks we are destined to be best friends. Then I cleaned the leaves off her tombstone and went home." and "LOL you are so awesome that I want to stab you in the face!". Mimi, please send me a heads up email if you decide to start hanging around outside my house with binoculars. Because I'll have to ask Becky to make room for your car. There's only so much space for parking in a cul de sac. Just sayin'.

Monday, February 8, 2010

In Your Face. Or My Face. Or Your Mom's Face. Whichever.

So here's the deal. I'm flying out to Arizona in a few days to see my parents. I wanted to lose about 10 pounds before I get there because ever since I told my mom and dad in November that the Captain and I were on a weight loss program they've been all "So how's the diet coming?" and I'm all "It's not a diet, it's a lifestyle change" and they're all "Are you less fat yet?" and I'm all "No not yet" and they're all "That's okay we still love you". Which basically means they kind of love me a little less but they can't say that because that would be bad parenting.

Yeah, I haven't lost a damn pound. I went to the doctor and whined about it and she's all "Are you exercising?" and I'm all "Fuck yeah I am!" and she's all *stare* and I'm all "I so totally am!" and she's all "How many days per week?" and I'm all "Ummm...five?" and she's all *blink* and I'm all "Four?" and she's all *foot tap* and I'm all "Maybe three times? A lady? Hahahaaa, get it?" and she's all "You need to exercise every day" and I'm all "For reals?" and she's all "Yes" and I'm all "Isn't there a pill I can take instead?" and she's all "Only if you want a heart murmur and kidney failure" and I'm all "Hmmm..." and she's all "I'm serious." and then I jumped out the window because I'm sorry but life isn't worth living if I have to spend 30 minutes of each day walking around and shit.

So then she was all "It will be very difficult for you to lose weight because of your asshat thyroid". Except maybe she didn't say "asshat" but whatevs. That's totally what she meant. So then I basically begged her to up my medication dosage and she totally wouldn't because according to her, my levels are normal. So I decided to get back at her by not exercising at all and eating everything within my reach for two weeks straight. Take that, sucka!

And now I have to get on an airplane and go see my parents and listen to my mom talk about how maybe I should speak with my oldest sister because she lost a bunch of weight and doesn't she look amazing and blah blah blah stomach stapling. Awesome.

Also? My face has decided to explode into an angry collection of red, itchy patches. Captain Carl thinks it's eczema, but I'm pretty sure it's from breaking down and finally buying a new bra that cost me $60 (fuckkk!) and now my face is protesting because my boobs are totally gonna get even more attention now. Well fuck that shit, face. You aren't the boss of me, face! I'm going to the dermatologist next week because I'll be damned if I'm giving my mom another thing to criticize about me. Oh honey, it never used to bother me that you were chubby because you had such a cute face...but now....oh dear.

omg hotttt!

I took this picture of myself in the car the other day because my hair was totally cooperating and being super cute and my face didn't look too fucked up because I totally punched those red itchy spots in the nards with five pounds of antibiotic cream and six pounds of cover up . I should be a doctor....of awesome! Ya feel me? Yeah you do! Up top!


Meh....I got nothin' today. I'm too busy scratching my forehead.

Friday, February 5, 2010

More Exciting Than A Bag Full Of Vibrators*

I just received an email with the most awesome link in the history of links ever in the universe*.

Caution: Clicking here may cause your mind to blow from extreme awesomeness*. Also, your mom blows stuff, but it ain't minds. boo-ya.


Pee Wee Herman Abstinence Rings.

My life is now complete.

*I might have over-hyped the website slightly. I mean, a bag of vibrators would be pretty awesome too, I guess. But come on, y'all! They have Miss Yvonne bandanas!

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Confessions Of A Crazy Cat Lady Blogger

Just because I thought you'd like to know. That, and I like to put my personal shit out on the interwebs in the hopes someone in my family will eventually find it and think it's a cry for help but hahahaaa! jokes on them because you can't fix crazy...

  1. My sister, Lizard, has furnished over half of my home with her discards. I have her old curtains, bedroom furniture, artwork, and tons of smaller things. She sends all the smaller things home with me in those big handled shopping bags from expensive clothing stores. I save those bags and I use them mostly to transport items to and from work, but also kind of because I want people to think I buy my clothes at those stores.
  2. There is a basketball that has been sitting on the floor in my family room for two months. I have no idea how it got there. I haven't moved it since it mysteriously appeared because I'm too lazy to pick it up and find a place for it in the garage. I stare hatefully at it every time I sit down to watch tv.
  3. About five times a year I decide to do a major clutter reduction at my house and throw away/put away all the junk that's been sitting around for weeks (hello, basketball?). Then the Captain and I spend the rest of our lives trying to locate the things I put in places I thought were logical at the time. Then the Captain gets mad at me. Then I lie and tell him I never moved whatever it is he's looking for. Example: I once organized a huge stack of the Captain's books and we didn't find them until two years later when we moved. I blamed him.
  4. I lost my virginity when I was 15 years old. I gave in to my first boyfriend because he just wouldn't shut up about it. It lasted about 20 seconds and afterwards he told me it was okay because he was only half in so we were still kind of virgins. The next day I got sick with food poisoning, which I assumed was morning sickness. Because I was a genius.
  5. I once faked three orgasms in a row with the same boyfriend. Because he was a genius.
  6. I asked Captain Carl this morning if he could see my bra through my shirt. When he said "yes", I said "good" and left for work.
  7. I have a crush on Dwight Schrute from The Office (the character, not the actor) because I think he'd be really good in bed.
  8. I'm a phantom typist. Right about now, you're probably all "what the fuck?" so let me explain. I secretly type what people say in conversations on an imaginary keyboard, especially if they are talking really fast because I'm a speedy (110 wpm, baby) and I want to see if I can keep up with them. See? Phantom typist. That just happened.
  9. I kept a diary in college and when I found it a few years after I graduated, I threw it away because it was so embarrassing. The whole thing was about a boy named Beamer who was a member of the Young Republicans and wore argyle socks and loved Depeche Mode and was about 50 pounds smaller than me. I had a huge crush on him and my diary was filled with things like "I wonder if a republican will go down on you? Maybe he'd think it was too messy?" and "I bet he'd call it 'making love' instead of 'having sex'." and "I'd love to rip that sweater vest right off his cute little body.". Oh and there was also a really bad poem that I wrote about my dead cat. Yeah. I'm wishing I still had it now.
  10. Sometimes I have conversations with myself and pretend there is someone there talking back to me. I do this mostly in the shower and in the car, but it can happen just about anywhere if I don't stop myself. Sometimes I kick it up a notch and pretend I'm getting interviewed on a talk show because my blog went viral and now I'm super famous and getting paid just to show up places and talk about sex toys and renters and my boobs. What? A girl can dream, shut up!

Monday, February 1, 2010

I'm On To Him

Captain Carl says he hates my cat, Max. He says he hates her because she peed on our living room carpet so much that we had to rip it out and replace it with laminate so she wouldn't do it again. He says he hates her because she yowls for her brother, Boo, in the middle of the night. He says he hates her because she likes to be thumped instead of petted (is that a word?) and then when you thump too long she bites you. He says he hates her because whenever we talk to each other, Max tries to get in between us like a jealous child. He says he hates her because she won't cover her poop up in the litter box. He says he hates her because sometimes she'll drag that poop out of the litter box in an apparent silent protest of whatever she's pissed off about that day.

But I'm on to him.
Oh yes I am.

I'm on to him because I see him stop vacuuming (yes he vacuums...jealous much?) when Max is freaking out about the loud noise. I'm on to him because I hear him talk baby talk to her when he thinks no one is listening. I'm on to him because when he grabs a blanket to sit under on the couch, he leaves a bit of it on the couch next to him so Max can sit on it and then lets her snuggle up against him. I'm on to him because he makes sure she has plenty of food on the nights I forget to feed them.
So listen up, Captain. You don't fool me one little bit with your "Hey Max, wanna take a ride in the dryer?" and "Hey Max, wanna see the inside of the microwave?" and Hey Max, let's go take a walk in the field across the street!" and "Hey Max, want me to teach you how to use the handsaw?". Oh no you don't. Because I just heard you ask the cat you hate so much "Are you cold, old lady?" and then I saw you thump her a couple times and scratch her ears and pull her a little closer to you on the blanket.

Nice try, but I'm on to you.

And so is Max.

Do as I say, or I will seriously fuck your shit up.