Friday, August 27, 2010

Damn You, Banana

I know I know. I haven't been around much lately. I have my reasons.

First? Last Saturday I bit into a banana and one of my crowns came off my tooth and I swallowed it before I noticed. A fucking banana, y'all. The softest fruit on the planet ripped a dental crown that is attached with fucking cement right off the remaining nub-of-what-was-once-an-awesome-but-is-now-felled-due-to-a-hairline-fracture tooth. Yes, that sentence just happened.

So I was sitting there, all eating my banana and then I swallowed (just like your mom did last night) and I was all huh, something feels weird and then I stuck my tongue over on the side of my mouth and holy shit, my crown is gone. So of course I start frantically looking around my chair for it, like it somehow walked out of my mouth without my knowledge. Then I realized that I swallowed it (twss). So I looked over at Captain Carl with my hand over my mouth and buggy eyes and he was all "What's the matter?" and I was all *horrified stare* and he was all "What happened?" and I was all "I just swallowed my crown!" and he was all "What?" and I was all "I. JUST. SWALLOWED. MY. CROWN." and he was all "No way" and I was all "Ohmygod" and he was all "Throw up!" and I was all "No!".

And then the pain kicked in. I had a raw, stub of a tooth exposed to the elements. So I cried. And Captain Carl was all "How can you feel anything? Didn't you have a root canal before they crowned it?" and I was all "No, are they supposed to do that?" and he was all "Yes" and I was all "Fucking dentist!". So I found another dentist that was open on Saturday, went to see her with greasy Saturday morning hair and banana breath and she was all "I'll do a root canal and get a temporary crown on there" and I was all "Yes please" and she was all "But not until Monday" and I was all stabbing her in the face. But then she prescribed vicodin for the pain so I totally made out with her.

All this means that sometime this week I literally flushed $500 down the toilet.


We moved the Kiddo to college and into his dorm on Sunday. He was pretty much all jumpy and clappy and excited and I was pretty much all pretend-happy but wearing-my-sunglasses-all-day-even-inside-because-my-eyes-kept-leaking. And now he's there and not here and Captain Carl was all braggy last week about how he was going to be so excited about being alone! like newlyweds! except with a renter living upstairs! And then on Monday he asked me if I'd been in the Kiddo's room yet and I was all "No, I can't go in there yet" and he was all "It looks like a hotel room with all his stuff gone" and then he burst into tears. Heh heh. Told ya.


On Monday morning, I got my root canal done but only half of it because the dentist "didn't have time to do the whole thing since it was an emergency appointment". Which means I get to go back in two weeks for a second root canal. Which is extra special awesome. And! This new dentist is good, but she doesn't use the laughing gas like my old shitty dentist did. Which means instead of laughing and peacefully drifting towards the ceiling during my root canal, I was instead sweating and trying not to cry and/or gag. And then on my way out I got to write a check for $620.


Yesterday I got a sinus infection. And a yeast infection. My body is awesome at infections. I'm oozing from almost every orifice.

And that's why I haven't been around much. Pretty much glad you asked, right?

Friday, August 20, 2010

National Cat Puke Day

Captain Carl loves my cats. But he spends a lot of time pretending that he hates them.

Anyone Who Has Ever Visited Our House: Thanks for having us over!
Captain Carl: It was great! Don’t forget to take your free cat on the way out.
Visitor: What?
Captain Carl: It's your parting gift.
Me: No.
Captain Carl: Yep, pick whichever one you want. We have several to choose from.
Me: We only have two and no.
Captain Carl: We have white and black. The white one is cute but dumb. The black one will probably try to kill you in your sleep.

Captain Carl’s Mom on the phone: When are y’all coming to see us again?
Captain Carl: We’ll be there tomorrow. But just to drop off the cats.
Mom: What?
Captain Carl: You know. So they can live with you and not me.
Mom: I don’t think your wife will let you do that.
Captain Carl: Don’t worry about that…I’ll tell her we’re taking them to a kitty spa. She won’t know until it’s too late.
Me: I’m sitting right here, asshole.
Captain Carl: Abort mission! Enemy has infiltrated base camp! Whoop whoop!

Renty: Well, I’m heading to the pool.
Captain Carl: Don’t forget to let the cats out.
Me: No. The cats don’t ever go out.
Captain Carl: Sure they do. You just forgot.
Me: No.
Captain Carl: Look at them! All sad and shit because they want to go outside.
Me: They are indoor cats. They don’t have any claws or survival skills.
Captain Carl: Even better!
Me: No!
Captain Carl: *looking at Renty* I will lower your rent by $100 if you let the cats out.
Renty: Uhhh, ha ha haaa...
Me: *points at Captain Carl* Don't make me hurt you.
Captain Carl: Who let the cats out? Who who who who!

Me: I’m leaving for work…have a good day.
Captain Carl: You too! Don’t forget to put the trash out and also to put the cats in the trash.
Me: Ha ha...not happening.
Captain Carl: I’m pretty sure today is National Take Your Cat To Work Day.
Me: Nope.
Captain Carl: National Take Your Cats To The Animal Shelter To Be Euthanized Day?
Me: Shut up.
Captain Carl: National Drive Your Cats To The Middle Of Nowhere, Dump Them On The Side Of The Road And Leave Them For Dead Day?

And just when I begin to worry that being stuck in the house all day with two stinky fur balls is getting to be too much for him, something like this happens:

Email From: Captain Carl
Subject: Good Boy

Have I told you lately how much I love your cats? Because today? I really really do.


My cats live to see another day.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Apparently Whitney Houston Is Stalking My Son

I came home on Friday to this message on my garage door.

No matter what, I will always love you!

Obviously Bunny is still not over the boy.

I blurred out the Kiddo's name for the blog, but trust's there. And now our neighbors know my son's middle name is apparently "Sexy".

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Too Much Sexy

Is it just me, or is that dude in the red bandana super hot?

Me: *blow drying hair* Good morning!

Captain Carl: *blinking* Mmmhhmmm...

Me: Still sleepy?

Captain Carl: *yawning*

Me: Come here, you.

Captain Carl: What?

Me: Just get over here. *slaps ass* You're looking sexy this morning.

Captain Carl: Seriously? *peers at self in mirror* I still have cpap mask marks on my face.

Me: I know. Rawr!

Captain Carl: *staring* Are you okay?

Me: Oh yeah, baby. I'm more than okay. *sexy eyebrow waggle*

Captain Carl: Wait, what day is it?

Me: It's Wednesday. And you know what that means...

Captain Carl: Ummm...

Me: It's time for business time.

Captain Carl: You're quoting Flight of the Conchords? At 6:30 in the morning?

Me: You know it. Check this out. *jumps up and down* Huh? *looks down at chest* Daddy like?

Captain Carl: You got your period this morning, didn't you.

Me: *stops jumping* No.

Captain Carl: Yes.

Me: Did not!

Captain Carl: You did. I know because you always get horny when it starts.

Me: What? Shut up, I do not.

Captain Carl: *raises eyebrows*

Me: Fine. Whatever. You just killed my sex buzz.

Captain Carl: Every month.

Me: Blah blah blah. Go away, buzz killer.

Captain Carl: I'll make you a smoothie for breakfast.

Me: Could you do it shirtless?

Captain Carl: No.

Me: And maybe wear those jeans I like?

Captain Carl: No.

Me: Come on! I have cramps. Be nice to me!

Captain Carl: No.

Me: Maybe just flash me some nip out the window when I leave for work then?

Captain Carl: Fine, but just one.

And he totally did it, y'all. The man gets me. Kind of scary, huh?

Monday, August 9, 2010

I Spent $382 And All I Got Was This College Tuition Bill

Here's a little math problem in honor of my boy going off to college in less than two weeks.


105 degree heat + 1 hour in Big Lots + 2.5 hours in Wal-Mart + screaming 3 year old in line behind us at checkout = $382 in college supplies


$382 in college supplies = Captain Carl ready to karate chop screaming 3 year old's mother + Miss Yvonne sobbing for 3.5 hours about her baby leaving home


Me: Hey Kiddo, check it out. *sweeping arm gestures towards 5 ft. high pile of plastic crates filled with notebooks and ramen noodles*
Kiddo: That looks like college stuff.
Me: It is! Your dad and I spent all afternoon getting everything for you.
Kiddo: Cool. Hey, I'm going over to Emo's house, okay?

And then I punched him in his ungrateful face. Teenagers are pretty much awesome.


I'm gonna miss that punk. Damn it.

Friday, August 6, 2010

Things You Don't Want To Know About Me But I'm Going To Tell You Anyway

  1. I have been on a new diet and exercise plan with Captain Carl for 5 weeks. I've lost a whole 4 pounds. I'm so skinny now that people don't recognize me. At this rate, I'll be down to my target weight in oh, about 3 years.
  2. In contrast, Captain Carl has lost 15 pounds and is a new man. I thought he was bad before, but I can't keep him off me now. Last night he told me he's drinking pineapple juice because it makes his "you know...stuff" taste better. *sigh* I'm thinking of sabotaging his diet. There's only so many nipple tweaks a wife can take.
  3. I've decided to boycott all reality tv unless it is educational. Jersey Shore offers valuable lessons on tanning and ummm, sexual relations? So I'm still watching that. Stop judging, you don't know me.
  4. I noticed last night that I've been consistently missing a patch of underarm hair for what appears to be several weeks. Instead of getting up and shaving it off, I sat and watched educational tv. Yes, The Fabulous Beekman Boys is educational. They live on a farm, people. All kinds of gay educational shit is happening on that show.
  5. Last weekend I got my brother-in-law, Mailman Mike, drunk and encouraged him to sing the karaoke version of "Single Ladies". Then I taught him the dance. Then I peed my pants from laughing. He denies that it ever happened. Next time? Video camera.
  6. That same night, Mailman Mike and I decided we should form an adult karaoke Glee club. Our trademark song? "Working for the Weekend" by Loverboy. With a cheerleader jump in the air at the end. It's pretty much awesomes. Don't be jealous.
  7. The average temperature in DFW has been hovering around 105 degrees. It was 95 degrees last night at 11pm. My butt cheeks are in a constant state of sweat. Seriously, my ass is glowing like a pregnant woman's face.
  8. Speaking of ass. I had a giant hemorrhoid last week. So yeah. There's you go.

I promise I'll stop writing about hemorroids if I get over 400 followers.



Probably not.

Monday, August 2, 2010

The Most Painfully Relaxing Massage Ever

Captain Carl has been trying to convince me to get a massage for a few years now. I am what some people might call "high strung" and what my mom calls "a little bit stressed out" and what my husband calls "fucking whacked out of your mind". I have no idea why I'm stressing. I mean, my husband is starting his own business, I have two jobs, my son is going to college this month, my electric bill is heading steadily towards $500, and I have a cat molester in superman boxers living upstairs.

For some reason, I'm afraid of getting a massage. I'm nervous about being naked on a table in front of a stranger. I'm worried that I'll get super relaxed and let a fart squeak out. I don't know...I just feel weird about it. I've been trying to ease into the whole massage thing this year. I got a chair massage and that was pretty awesome. Then I had a reflexology massage, which required me to lay on the table but not take any clothes off. But that was it. There's even a massage place right across the parking lot where I work. I could walk over and get rubbed on my lunch hour (twss). But I have never done it.

Then a couple weeks ago I met a lady through my photography business. She's a massage therapist who wanted family portraits taken. I needed a massage. Bada boom, a deal was struck. And I spent every day up until Thursday freaking out about my upcoming massage.

Thursday arrived and I drove to my appointment. I was getting a 90 minute deep tissue massage. Full body. Full on nude. Full on freaking out. So she puts me in the room and there's the big table...

Oh great, I'm sweating. Now I'm gonna be "the fat lady who sweat through 90 minutes of massage". Awesome.

Okay, getting undressed quickly...get on the table before she comes back in!! Hurry! OMG, why is my bra not coming off!! Gah!

Okay, made it to the table. Here she is...quick, stick the sheet under your armpits but be sneaky about it. Need to wipe off the sweat!

Hmmmm, so they really do play Enya during massages. I always wondered about that...

This isn't so bad. Massaging my head first...feels really good.

Okay, this kind of hurts. Is she pushing on my shoulders with her fists? Ow ow ow!

Phew, glad that part is over. Now the arms. Nice...feels good....ahhhh.

Holy shit!!! What the fuck, man?? What is she doing to my arms???? That can't be good for me!

Don't tense up don't tense up don't tense up. Pretend it feels good.

Massage Therapist: How's the pressure? Enough?
Me: Yep! Perfect!

Seriously, lady? How's the pressure? You are literally pushing me off the other side of the table!

Thank God, done with the arms. Oooh, the hand massage is nice. Now that's what I'm talkin' about!

When did my mind start talking in a New York accent?

Gosh, this is great. I can put up with a little pain on my arms for this hand massage.

I never realized how much I love Enya. Hmmmm, la laa laaaaa. Sail away....blah blah yaaaa.

Okay, on to the legs. Not too bad...I can handle this. Wait...oh shit, here come the fists again. Motherfucka!!!!!!!! Ow ow ow owwwwwww....

Keep a straight face...don't let her see how much this hurts. She'll think you're a huge massage pussy.

OMG, this isn't a massage, this is torture. Save me, Obama!

Deep breaths....think of something nice. Like puppies frolicking. Or the ocean! You love the ocean!

Holy mother of all that is good and holy...make her stop!!! Say something! Tell her it's too much pressure!!!

Massage Therapist: Still good on the pressure?
Me: Oh yes, it's wonderful!

I think I'm about to pass out...

Is it normal to see spots during a massage? Enya sounds like she's singing in a tunnel. Weird.

Feet! Ohhhh, this is awesome! Okay, I will forget about the legs. The foot massage is where it's at, baby!

Oh shit, I have to turn onto my stomach? Damn damn damn...I bet she can see my boobs. Thank God it's dark in here.

Ahhhh, shoulder massage...I wish she'd do this the whole time. nipples are getting pinched a little bit here. Should I move? Is that allowed?

Okay, major nipple pinching. Maybe if I just slowly reach my hand under there and move them around, she won't notice....

Crap, I wasn't fast enough...she's massaging my arm again. Oh great, more fisting.

Butt massage? This is kind of weird, but okay. Feels pretty good...oh man, now I have to fart. I KNEW IT! Hold it hold it hold it....

Massage Therapist: Okay, we're all done...I'll just step outside and you can get dressed and come out when you're ready.

Thank God, I thought she'd never leave. *pphhhhttttttt*

Me: Well thank you so much, it was wonderful!
Massage Therapist: I'm glad you liked it! And don't worry, it's normal to pass gas after an intense massage.
Me: Oh ummm...I didn't...I mean...not until after...ummm...
Massage Therapist: Was there enough pressure? I gave you the beginner pressure.
Me: That was beginner pressure?
Massage Therapist: Oh yes. It can get quite a bit more intense.
Me: Oh. Well, I mean there could have been a little bit more pressure...but this was fine.
Massage Therapist: We'll try a bit more next time.
Me: Oh ah....ha hahaa, okay.
Massage Therapist: Namaste
Me: Sure, ummm...right back at ya.