Insta-awesome

Y'all, I just realized I've never linked to my instagram account here. If you are already a follower, you know what a travesty of awesomeness that is. Okay, not really. But! If you follow me, I promise there will be dinosaurs.

And cats. Lots and lots of cats.

Don't Ya Wish Your Girlfriend Was More Modest Than Me?

Things I am not proud of:

1. I have no inner monologue
2. I have no problem humiliating myself in public
3. I will sing on command at any time
4. I am super drunk in these videos

Yes, that is a wireless mic I'm wearing. My brother-in-law, Mailman Mike, gave it to me for Christmas, proving yet again how much Captain Carl's family gets me.

This next one is long, but also pure genius on account of my amazing Bee Gees impression.



We are having another karaoke party tonight. Watch out, living room. It's about to get all kinds of stupid up in here.

Probably The Best Version Of "Sister Christian" You'll Ever Hear. Which Isn't Saying Much.

Fact #1: I love to sing in the car.

Fact #2: I have the I Am T-Pain auto-tune app on my phone.

Enough said.

Click here to listen and have your mind blown by my musical stylings.

Consider it my contribution to your Thanksgiving holiday. Kind of like turkey, except with less falling asleep and more eardrum bursting. You're welcome.

Eat your heart out, boys.

I'm Sick. And Vlogging. I Don't Know, It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time.

So I've been sick all week. I'm a phlegm machine at this point. And Captain Carl was out of town until late last night, so I've been spending my time sleeping, walking around like a zombie and feeling sorry for myself. And after I took a slight overdose of cough syrup last night, I decided it was a great time to do my first vlog and post it on YouTube.

Yeah.

And I could have just deleted the video off YouTube this morning when I came to my senses. But you know what? Fuck it. I had nothing else to blog about this week on account of all the coughing and snot. So I'm just going with it.

I promise the next vlog will be better.

Maybe.

Probably not.






p.s. Don't forget to go visit my home away from home, Sprocket Ink. I'm posting later today about American Idol and ghosts. I know what you are thinking and the answer is no, my writing talents truly have no limits.

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.

Honest.

Maybe.

Probably not.

I Wonder If This Will Give Me A Yeast Infection

I wrote a long and actually quite serious post this morning, but I decided to save that one for tomorrow in order to share this with you instead. You’re welcome.

I just went to the ladies room and all the stalls were full and I opened a new tampon and then dropped it on the floor and it rolled out under the stall and I was so panicked that I didn’t pull up my pants before I ran out there to pick it up. And then I had to use it because I only brought one with me to the bathroom. So now I have office bathroom floor in my vagina.

I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried, people.

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!

P to the A to the P to the SMEAR

You know your day is gonna be great when you hear "Go ahead and spread your legs as far apart as you can" first thing in the morning.

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.

Why I Will Never Tell My Family About This Blog.

So Captain Carl and I went to our first murder mystery party. Guess what the theme was?



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...

Arrrggggghh!

Just A Little Diarrhea Story

Last weekend I was in Walgreens, picking up my drugs and shopping for cheap nail polish when something really surprising and bad happened. There I was, strolling leisurely through the makeup aisle, trying to decide if I wanted another pink polish or maybe a red one when my stomach started to gurgle. Hmmm, weird. I move on to the hair care aisle and it happened again....gurgling, only this time lower and accompanied by cramping. Ouchy. Guess I better check out, something feels wrong.

So I head back to the pharmacy to get my drugs and pay for the 5 nail polishes I had picked out. I put my basket on the counter and waited while the lady pulled my prescription. Suddenly the cramping came back, and this time I knew what it meant. I was gonna need a bathroom pretty soon. By now the pharmacy lady had found my drugs and had started ringing up all the stupid shit I had thought 5 minutes ago was important but now seemed ridiculous. Who needs 5 nail polishes! What was I thinking! This is taking forever!!

The cramping has picked up the pace and alarm bells are starting to go off in my brain. Hurry! We don't have much time! Bowel emergency! Sweat beads are breaking out on my forehead and holy hell, this is the longest checkout ever. The lady stops while ringing up my nail polishes and says "You really like pink, huh?" and laughs and I'm all "Yep!" but in my head I'm all "I really like bathrooms too...get the lead out, bitch!!".

Finally she finishes and I pay and run/walk to the front of the store while chanting "please please please please please" under my breath. Things are starting to look pretty bad for me and my intestines. I'm 5 miles from home in rush hour traffic, which translates into a 20 minute drive. I take off and am now yelling at myself "You can make it! You can make it!".

Guess what? Red light. Looongggg red light. At this point I've got one foot on the brake and the other braced on the floor, lifting myself up off the seat so I can...ahem...clench. The only word in my head now is "FUCKKKKKK!!!"

I couldn't make it. I had to stop at the first place I saw, an Arby's. I fucking love Arby's. I couldn't believe I was about to defile the Arby's bathroom, but I had no choice. Ever have fast food bathroom diahrrea? Yeah, it's not fun. That's all I'm going to say about that.

So this weekend, the Captain and I are meeting up with this hot lady and her husband for lunch. She's in town for some lame Depeche Mode concert and actually has the balls to not only meet me in person but also GIVE ME HER CELL PHONE NUMBER. I know, right??? That bitch is crazy. I immediately began texting her furiously about clown masks and phone sex (not together...but now that I think about it, that would be pretty awesome). Amazingly, she responded and we've been having a texting battleship war for two days. What's even better is that she told me she also had a public bathroom diarrhea incident this week. We're totally diarrhea twins! But hers was gas station bathroom diarrhea, which is way worse than Arby's bathroom diarrhea. So I am totally winning the diarrhea competition. Wait, maybe there wasn't a competition.

OMG, we should TOTALLY have a diarrhea competition!

Suck On This

I've been meaning to write a post about the penis straws that Kim sent me a couple weeks ago. See, it took me this long to do it because I've been busy hiding them all over the house for Captain Carl to find. For several days now, he's been opening drawers and cabinets and he's all "How many of these fuckers did she send you?" and then I get all giggly and clappy and then I forget about writing my post for a few more days.

But then I realized that Whiskey Girl has not posted yet about the penis straw I sent her and I'm all about winning and in this case, winning means I post about my straws first. Take that, bitch! I say bitch with love, because I really do love you WG. I love you like I love my penis straws...with all my heart and soul and also I might love you so much that I stick you in a frozen margarita this weekend and suck on you all night. Awww yeah. Wait, what?

ahem


So anyway...penis straws. Here are a few of my favorite hiding spots so far.

Kitchen drawer...yes, I know it's kind of dirty. You know what?
Your mom's drawers are way dirtier. Boo-ya.

Refrigerator.
I stuck one in the meat drawer today, but he hasn't found it yet.
heh heh I said meat drawer.

Sweet corn that my Dad sent me from Minnesota.
He'd be so proud if he knew.
Or disappointed.

Toothbrush holder.
I know...I'm a genius.

I may or may not have been drunk when these last two pictures were taken.

I Had No Idea Werewolves Were So Kinky

I've been at my day job for seven years now. I sit at a desk and type and write and try hard not to fall asleep. I have a point here and it is this: I am awesome. I have another point and it is that my job is boring.

But I've come up with a really good way to keep myself entertained while looking hard at work and also awake. I check out audio books at the library and listen to them all day. I get to work at 7:30am and by 8:00am I'm wearing my earbuds and listening to a story.

This week I've been listening to a book about a vampire hunter and vampires and werewolves and no it's not Twilight because I'm a grown woman and I don't read teen romance novels and I prefer more mature reading material and also I've already read it like four times.

So on Monday, I bring the cd's and put the first one in and I'm all listening and working and literally five minutes into the story, there's a three-way. For reals. Between a werewolf, a werepanther and a vampire hunter. And there's no warning at all that a big mystical creature/human sex scene is coming up. Nope, not one little hint. One minute the characters are sitting at the kitchen table talking about the werewolf's father dying and I'm all "Hmm, could be an interesting book. Let me just file this paperwork over here..." and then the lady reading the book is all "I lay across the kitchen table and spread my legs. Gary held my hands above my head while Larry ripped my shirt open" and I'm all "Wha????" and the lady is all "Gary pushed his throbbing member against my thigh" and that's when I ripped off my earbuds and looked around frantically to make sure nobody in the office could hear what I just heard.

I knew I had the earbuds on and I knew they were plugged into the computer. But when an unexpected spoken-word orgy breaks out in your cubicle, you get a little paranoid that maybe somehow everyone heard it. So I double checked that the jack thingy was plugged in all the way into the computer and then I started up the cd again and listened without the earbuds to make sure there was no way at all it could be heard by anyone else.

Once I decided it was safe to listen, I backed up the cd and started the chapter over again because hello! Miss Yvonne does not skip a sex scene. Especially a sex scene involving weremen named Gary and Larry. Who the hell names a werewolf Gary, anyway? Shouldn't he be named something like Constantine or Valentino or Dolf? And don't even get me started on Larry.

So there I am at 9:30am, sitting in my cubicle, staring at my computer pretending to be reading an important email....but actually listening to what was turning out to be a pretty hot description of a three-way. I felt dirty and naughty. So naturally I called Captain Carl....

Me: *whispering* Guess what I'm doing?
CC: Filing your TPS report?
Me: I'm listening to a three-way!
CC: Are you working in a brothel now and haven't told me?
Me: No no no...it's a spoken word three-way!
CC: Okay, explain please.
Me: I'm listening to an audio book and...
CC: Nerd alert!
Me: ....and there's a really graphic sex scene and I'm nervous someone is going to catch me listening to it and I'm starting to get turned on!
CC: Oh reaaallly?
Me: Well it's really sexy!
CC: Sooo, wanna meet up for lunch???
Me: OHMYGOD, NOW SHE'S GETTING IT FROM BOTH ENDS!
Old Gay Guy In My Office: Ohhh, you GO girl!
Me: I think I forgot to whisper that last part....

Is it possible to get fired for listening to porn?

TMI Thursday: Yeast Ya Later!

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".

Paranoid Much?

I've mentioned before that I have a little anxiety problem. And by "little" I mean "crippling and completely irrational". Every morning when I park my car at work, I have a mini panic attack over where my keys are located. I'm completely paranoid that I'm going to lose them. So each morning when I arrive at work, I have this completely psychotic ritual I have to go through before I can walk into the building.

First I open my car door and before I get out, I lock the car and put my keys in my purse. Then I gather up everything else I'm taking in with me - lunch, book, etc. - and then I have to put it all down again and search my purse to make sure my keys are actually in there. And because I have one of those bottomless pit mom purses, the keys always fall to the bottom and I spend about a minute freaking out while I frantically search for them. I pull out mints and gum and old receipts and throw them on the passenger seat. So at this point, I'm sitting in my car with one leg hanging out the door and screaming "where the fuck are you, motherfuckers???" . Luckily for me, I get to work early and most of the time there's no one around to hear me. When I finally locate them, I take a second to close my eyes and take a deep breathe and then I usually say to my keys "I'm going to kill you" in my best Clint Eastwood voice because I figure intimidation is the only way to keep my keys in line. Finally, I gather up all my things again, get out of the car and shut the door. I can usually make it the rest of the day without checking for the keys again, but some days are worse than others and on those days I check several times.

So obviously I have a problem. I know this. Most days it's under control and I feel normal. But then there are some days when I think it would be a good idea to have a psychiatrist on speed dial and a prescription for xanax ready and waiting for me at the pharmacy. Yesterday was one of those days.

The Kiddo got his driver's license. He's 17, we made him wait a whole extra year to get it and I'm glad we did. I just don't think he would have been ready to be driving on his own at 16. But we couldn't hold out any longer and Captain Carl took him yesterday to get his license. So last night I got home from work and the Kiddo is putting his key to our car on his new key chain. I know this is a big moment in his life, so I try to forget that our monthly insurance payment just doubled and ask him if he's excited. Of course he says yes and then he sits there watching tv and jangling his keys in his pocket and twirling them on his finger and generally looking happy.

Then the Captain walks in, hands the Kiddo some cash and says "Why don't you take a drive and get yourself something to eat?" My ears start ringing and I stare at the Captain like he's just grown a third eye on his forehead and I feel the anxiety rushing through my body. The Kiddo looks startled, like he can't believe what his dad just said to him. The Captain turns to me and he's all "Is that okay with you?" and I'm all "Ummmm" and he's all "Yes or no" and I'm all "ummm okay" and he's all "Just tell me yes or no" and I'm all "okay" and he's all "Is that a yes?" and I'm all "It's an okay" and he's all "What the hell does that mean?" and I'm all "It means that's as close to me saying yes as you are gonna get right now".

And so the Kiddo happily bounces out the door as I yell after him "Wear your seat belt!" and "Don't forget to check the speed limits!" and "Please don't kill anyone!". Then the Captain and I decide to order chinese and it takes us five tries to dial the number correctly and after we do, the Captain tells me to stand there with him while he orders to make sure he doesn't order the wrong thing. Then he hangs up and we stare at each other for about 2 minutes and contemplate the fact that our child is driving our car somewhere all by himself. Then we both wander off in a daze.

So while he's gone, I pretty much just sit on the couch and listen. I have supersonic hearing and can usually hear when someone on our street slams a car door or when someone is walking up our sidewalk. So for 45 minutes, I'm listening for the boy. 30 minutes into my listening, the chinese food is delivered so I spend the next 15 minutes listening and chewing. Then I hear a car door and I wait for the Kiddo to walk in. He doesn't. But because of my mad hearing skills, I know the car door was slammed in our driveway. So I start freaking out....I think maybe he hit our Jeep or worse, the renters car, and he's standing out there trying to decide how he's going to tell us. Or maybe he had an accident and he's out there assessing the damage and figuring out a way to hide it from us with maybe a tree limb or some dirt. What I don't realize is that while I'm thinking this, I had a spoonful of chicken fried rice halfway to my mouth and my head is cocked to the side. The Captain asks me "Are you okay?" and I try to fake it and say "Yeah, why?" and he just rolls his eyes and that's when I notice my spoon and my head tilt.

Then the Kiddo finally walks in all casual and twirling his keys and I ask him if everything went okay and he says yeah, it's cool. And that should have been the end of my anxiety, but I held on to it the rest of the night and then I woke up early this morning and thought there was a midget standing in the corner of our bedroom but then I realized it was just the vacuum.

I know...I'm working on it, okay?

A Toasty Tag

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Am I The Only One With A Laundry Fetish?

I'm a pretty fastidious person for the most part. I enjoy being clean and non-stinky. I also enjoy having freshly laundered sheets and clothing. The roommates apparently do not enjoy the same things as me.

Eco Nazi and Kool Aid have not done their laundry in over a month. Which means that they are probably wearing dirty underwear and jeans that have crotch rot smell right this minute. I have never seen them wash their sheets. NEVER. They've lived here since the end of January, people. Maybe they could have snuck them through a wash and dry cycle without either the Captain or myself noticing. But that's highly unlikely since when they do get around to doing laundry, it takes them three damn days to get two loads completed because they never take their shit out of the washer or dryer. This means that they have two month old dirty sex and snot sheets on my once clean and comfortable guest room bed. Mother fuckers!!

And while I'm on the subject of laundry, whoever the hell taught these three kids how to wash clothes should be punched in the face and/or junk. Eco and Kool Aid have washed clothes twice I think since they moved in. Both times, they just threw everything in the washer together and put so much in that it couldn't handle the load (that's what she said) and proceeded to bounce around my laundry room like it was possessed. And they don't even sort their colors. I noticed that when I ran in there to turn off the washer before it shook so far away from the wall that it disconnected the water hose. Dudes, there were whites mixed in with blacks and reds! The OCD part of my brain exploded when I saw that and I wept a little for my poor washing machine being subjected to such laundry abuse. Bambi is no better....she washes her clothes once a month, and when that day arrives she drags two huge cardboard boxes down filled with laundry and leaves them sitting in our tiny laundry room for four days while she wanders in every once in a while to complete a load.

Some of you might be wondering why the laundry is such a huge issue for me. Here's why...I have a laundry fetish. I love doing laundry. I just like having clean things. I like the way clothes and towels feel when they are freshly laundered. I could roll around on my just-out-of-the-dryer-and-still-warm sheets for hours, sniffing my pillows and fondling my comforter. I even like the way our old dryer sounds when it's running, all clunky and clinky.

Oh how I love clean laundry.

If clean laundry was a song, it would be You Light Up My Life. And you do laundry, you do.

If clean laundry was a movie line, it would be You complete me.

If clean laundry was an animal, it would be a fluffy bunny being snuggled by a cute puppy playing with an adorable kitten.

If clean laundry was a teenage boy, I would totally dry hump it in the backseat of it's car and then pass it a note in class the next day asking why it's not talking to me.

sigh

Pssst...hey laundry. Call me.

Country Road + Mud = Awesome

Captain Carl and I went for a drive in the country on Saturday. It was 78 degrees and sunny and there was no way we were going to stay inside. So we hopped in the Jeep and headed out with only a camera and our wits to guide us. Okay, we also had an atlas and a tarp, but that was all. Oh and satellite radio because how can you go backroading without jazz music, yo? I also had some tampons and gum. Just like the pioneers.

We always have a great time on our road trips....just driving around aimlessly with the windows down, holding hands and finding some really cool shit. I have this somewhat unhealthy obsession with old cemeteries, so most of our country road trips involve finding as many of them as possible. And once we find them, I take pictures while the Captain wanders around yelling things at me like "This guy was in the civil war!" or "This one is so old I can't read the gravestone." or "Is it normal for a hand to be poking out of the ground?"

But we stopped our country drives for awhile after one trip last year. It had been raining the day before and some of those country dirt roads were a little muddy. I had never felt uneasy with the Captain's driving on any of these dirt roads before....mainly because I used to drive them a lot back when I was a teenager because that's where you go when you live in a small town when you want to have sex or get drunk and not get caught.

So there we were last year, driving down a muddy dirt road with not a care in the world. At first it was just kind of muddy and wet on the sides, but as we continued the mud started to creep towards the middle of the road. Then I noticed the very shallow ditches on either side were filled with water and a little bit further down I could see the water was up on the road. And the Captain was driving towards it like he didn't even see it. And that's when I started to get nervous. So I said ever so timidly to my dear husband, "What the hell man, there's water up there! Stop!". And the Captain replied in sweet honeyed tones, "Back off, we're fine goddamnit!" So I grabbed the door with the patented white-knuckle-wife grip and started praying in my head "Baby Jesus, please don't let us get stuck. Please please please. All we have are some fucking tampons and our stupid-ass wits and I'm sorry but that shit ain't gonna help us now!"

So yeah, we got stuck.

There was a huge muddy pond on the right side of the road and when the Captain looked down to downshift or whatever the fuck you do to drive through a muddy lake, he swerved TOWARDS the damn thing and we went right into it. And when he started spinning the tires I said very calmly "Ohmygodohmygodohmygoddd!!!!!!" and I'm pretty sure it was all the Captain could do to keep himself from giving me the pimp hand. Instead of bitch slapping me, he tells me to shut up and get in the driver's seat because he's going to push us out.

Yeah, that totally didn't work.

He's back there behind the Jeep yelling directions at me and while I'm working my magic on the accelerator, he's getting mud flung all over his person. We do that for about 10 minutes and guess what? We're still stuck. Plan B: the Captain walks into the woods and for a minute I think he's going to just walk off and leave me there, crying in the Jeep. But he grabbed a fallen tree limb instead and stuck it under the tire as leverage. We try that for another 10 minutes and I swear we're even deeper in the mud than we were before. By now, he has fallen backwards and forwards into the mud many times and closely resembles a mud bug or swamp rat or chupacabra or something.

So now I'm really freaking out and I'm thinking "We're in the middle of fucking nowhere and how the hell are we going to get out of here?" And right then I see 2 four-wheelers drive up over the hill in front of us. And behind them is a big truck. And behind him is a tractor. Out of absolutely nowhere. It was the most beautiful fucking thing I'd ever seen in my life. I just knew Baby Jesus sent them to us.

So the gentlemen riding on and in all of these vehicles get out and walk over to speak with us.

Farmer Fred: What seems to be the problem folks?
Captain Carl: Well, we got ourselves stuck.
Farmer Fred: Yep, looks that way.
Captain Carl: Ahhh, yeah.
Tractor Tom: Got yerself a little muddy, huh?
Captain Carl: Sure did.
Tractor Tom: I might could pull y'all out if you need.
Me: Yes! Yes yes, please pull us out! sob sob sob sob

So Farmer Fred and Tractor Tom handed a giant chain and big hook to the Captain and they watched as he hooked up the Jeep to the tractor while yelling things at me and I'm all "What?? I can't hear you over the engine!" and he's all "Blahbrsuuahd;lddcup!" and I'm all "You want me to rev it?" and he's all "Noeaisdeioadlfud!!!" and I'm all "Okay, seems weird to me though" and then when he crawls out he tells me he wanted me to turn off the Jeep so his arm wouldn't get ripped off by the belt and I told him well sorry but you should have said that before you crawled under there and is it my fault you can't plan ahead?

Then Tractor Tom pulled us out in about 5 seconds, and I left the Captain standing in the mud while I drove up the hill to safety before stopping. The poor Captain had to walk up the hill to the Jeep and then had to suffer the embarrassment of stripping down to his underwear while all these men watched. They were waiting for us to leave so they could continue on their way and I don't think the Captain was too happy with me when I tried in vain to wipe the mud off his body with 3 handi-wipes I found in my purse. Lucky for us we had the tarp in the back of the Jeep for him to sit on. Take that, wits!

Home was two hours away. Imagine sitting at stop lights in nothing but your underwear, covered in mud, while the redneck in the truck next to you stares and laughs. And then to make things worse, the mud starts to dry and it's also in your butt crack so by the time you get home your butt cheeks are stuck together. That shit will scar you for life. So will your wife laughing at you in the garage while you peel off your underwear and shake your butt cheeks apart trying to get the dried mud out from between them.

Good times.

You Should Blame Amber Dawn For This

I got tagged by Amber Dawn....please post your complaints to her blog. I'm supposed to post the sixth image in my sixth picture folder. Ummmm, I don't have six picture folders...I only have one. So I multipled six by six and picked the 36th image in my one picture folder instead.

Don't ask me why I have this picture. I don't have a reasonable explanation.

Dave Coulier is lookin' hot lately, no?

I Got Tagged...And Apparently That Doesn't Mean Anything Dirty. I'm A Little Disappointed.

I got tagged by Plo at ForCryEye ....the coolest chicky baby puppet in Puppetland.

So here's my thing with tags...I enjoy doing them, but I usually break the rules and never tag more people. So Plo, please don't be disappointed in me...I promise I'll try to come back to this when I'm not cranky and tired and try to tag some peeps.

In the meantime, please to be enjoying my answers below. Feel free to comment at will...and if you want me to tag you, let me know and we can be tag buddies. hee hee...so dirty!



THE RULES:
1. Link to the person or persons who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Write six random things about yourself.
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them.
5. Let each person know they've been tagged and leave a comment on their blog.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.


1. The phrase "Getting Tagged" makes me think of doggie-style sex. It's just the way my dirty mind works.

2. I'm from Minnesota and have a kick ass accent. I sound like I came straight out of the movie Fargo. Oh yah, you betcha!

3. One of my biggest fears is that someone will break into our house when we are gone, hide and then come out and kill us all while we sleep. It drives Captain Carl crazy. Every night I'm all "What the hell was that?" and he's all "What?" and I'm all "THAT! That noise!" and he's all "yawn" and I'm all "Go see what it is!" and he's all "The hell I will." and I'm all "What if it's a guy with an ax?" and he's all "Tell him to do me first and put me out of my misery" and I'm all "You're an asshole" and he's all "Can I be a sleeping asshole please?" I love that guy.

4. Do you know the way to San Jose? Laa laa la la laa laa la la!

5. I have a hump. For reals. Not like a Hunchback of Notre Dame hump or anything...it's barely noticeable. I have what my mom calls a Dowager's Hump. Ever heard of it? Me either. She probably made it up. I have 3 sisters and 2 of them, myself and my mom have this little curve at the top of our spines just below our necks. It's totally a cute, sexy hump. Ima get get get get you drunk, get you love drunk off my hump.

6. My favorite songs of all time are My Sharona, You Dropped a Bomb on Me, and Word Up. You know, the classics.