Overall, not a bad weekend, aside from the fact that our floor was having a special on Code Browns. Little confused old people and poop do not mix. You're bound to walk in to some serious finger-painting.
People are just gross.
I came home and checked the mail that came in on Saturday. I found a letter from 98.1 KUDL. I don't listen to this station (Delilah makes me want to drown in my own vomit), so I wondered what it could possibly be. Inside, I found a gift card with a note. On my last outing with Indy, KUDL was there for part of a Sex and the City promotion. They were handing out free key chains and crap, and they had some drawings you could sign up for. Indy and I both filled out entries. I didn't know what the prizes were, but it never hurts when something is free. If it doesn't even interest you, you can always re-gift it.
Apparently, my name was drawn for $100 gift card to my most favorite restaurant. I did a little gimpy dance in the kitchen. Then, I called Indy to gloat. He was happy for my good fortune, and stated that he was also pleased that he could help me win.
Huh??
Aside from the fact that was his not-so-subtle hint at also reaping the rewards of the much celebrated gift card, I was puzzled as to how he helped. While he did give me an entry form to fill out, he didn't pay for my meal. He didn't pick me up. And he managed to piss me off at the end of the night.
"Okay," I said. "I'll treat you to dinner sometime, but you will be required to put out."
I know he'll do just about anything for fish tacos and a Long Island Iced Tea. I might actually have a chance this time.
(So, Dan, while he may have gotten the porn flick, I got the $100 gift card. And in the end, I think I made out better.)
I'm pretty happy with the gift card. Hell, I'm just happy I actually won something. I haven't won anything since I won a bicycle when I was 9.
The knee pain has gotten worse, it's depressing. I can't even do a routine trip to the grocery store without having to ice my knee down upon returning home. To make things even better, I'm going with zero pain meds, save for the ibuprofen I take. Which is the equivalent of pissing on a California forest fire. It just doesn't work.
So, I had an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon this afternoon. I called last month and this Monday was the best they could do. This is standard for specialists, especially orthopedics. You call needing an appointment for Right Now!, and Right Now! to them is about a month later. Hurry up and wait. It's the name of the medical game.
I went to my appointment, had a series of x-rays, and got to meet with my new ortho doc. I have an MRI scheduled, but he tossed out an idea of having another reconstructive surgery, to the tune of tibial osteotomy. Recovery time...three months. One month would be non-weight bearing on that leg.
Oh. Hell. No.
I told him I'd like to avoid such a procedure (because death sounds better), so for now, we'll do the MRI, probably a scope, and then go from there. Ugh. Ideally, I'd like something to do the greatest amount of good, with the least amount of recovery time. Three months does not work for me. The last time I had that kind of recovery time, I ended up depressed, crying at random country songs on the radio. And telephone commercials.
Plus there was also that issue with constipation...
Monday, April 28, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Thursday Blather
This week, I went and got my hair done. As the weather gets warmer, my hair grows faster. This is problematic when the red hairs that reside on my head, were not a genetic gift from my parents. It looks rather odd to see pretty red hair, with blonde roots. People stare. If it were at-home-bleached blonde hair with black roots, people would just think "white trash" and move on. They haven't decided what to call me, other than confused.
At any rate, I went to see my girl, Kelley, who is a ball of fun and glitter. We made a game plan to get my red locks back to the natural blonde that my father passed on to me. The first step: to remove the red without giving me a chemical haircut. Red is hard to keep in hair, but once it's in, it won't leave willingly.
To make a long story short, I am now a brunette. The last time I was a brunette, I was in cosmetology school. It was not a good look for me. I looked anemic. It was horrible. I swore I would never travel down that road again.
But here I am...brown hair. I still look anemic, but not frighteningly so. The red is still peeking through when certain light hits it, but it's something I can live with until the next phase of the plan...of which I don't know when will take place.
Yesterday, I took Mom out to dinner, and it started to pour down rain on our way home. Brookside was a complete mess as the drains couldn't keep up with the rain. Somewhere on 63rd street, we hear a loud pop, and just like that, the driver side window wiper blade has disappeared. Awesome! So, I drive the rest of the way home with no wiper blade. Thankfully, there was Rain-X on the window, and I could still see somewhat.
Driving on 63rd street + Noah's Ark conditions + no wiper blade = bad.
Tonight is the blogger meetup. I have a couple errands to run before I go, so I will be getting there late. Hopefully, Janet and Keith will save a piece of the infamous boob cake. I don't really need the nipple. I've got two of my own.
At any rate, I went to see my girl, Kelley, who is a ball of fun and glitter. We made a game plan to get my red locks back to the natural blonde that my father passed on to me. The first step: to remove the red without giving me a chemical haircut. Red is hard to keep in hair, but once it's in, it won't leave willingly.
To make a long story short, I am now a brunette. The last time I was a brunette, I was in cosmetology school. It was not a good look for me. I looked anemic. It was horrible. I swore I would never travel down that road again.
But here I am...brown hair. I still look anemic, but not frighteningly so. The red is still peeking through when certain light hits it, but it's something I can live with until the next phase of the plan...of which I don't know when will take place.
Yesterday, I took Mom out to dinner, and it started to pour down rain on our way home. Brookside was a complete mess as the drains couldn't keep up with the rain. Somewhere on 63rd street, we hear a loud pop, and just like that, the driver side window wiper blade has disappeared. Awesome! So, I drive the rest of the way home with no wiper blade. Thankfully, there was Rain-X on the window, and I could still see somewhat.
Driving on 63rd street + Noah's Ark conditions + no wiper blade = bad.
Tonight is the blogger meetup. I have a couple errands to run before I go, so I will be getting there late. Hopefully, Janet and Keith will save a piece of the infamous boob cake. I don't really need the nipple. I've got two of my own.
Blogoholics Meeting Tonight!
Thursday April 24th 2008
5pm at LEVEE BAR & GRILL
HAPPY HOUR
Tuesday through Friday 2-7
$2 Beer, Well Drinks & Wine
NIGHTLY SPECIALS
Thursday - $2 Red Stripe
We have the deck reserved at 5 for 20-30 people.
NOTE: Keith & Janet are bringing Boob cake in honor of Janet's Birthday & upcoming new boobs!
I'll try to see if someone will motorboat the cake...
Monday, April 21, 2008
Nurse Follies: Nyet Habla Ni-hon go!
I've always harbored a secret crush on foreign languages. English seems crude while some languages have a fluid movement that just rolls off the tongue like that Dupre whore blowing Client #9.
In high school, I spent a year studying Japanese. I learned a lot of it, and retained most of it. The only time that actually using it presented itself was a Japanese patient. Excited that I could talk to her, my excitement was short-lived as the patient had Alzheimer's, and what she spoke was neither Japanese nor English. In fact, her own kids didn't even know what it was.
My next language crush was Russian. I looked into taking some classes, picked up a couple books and tapes and would listen to them in my car as I was driving to and from work. Because Kansas City has a large Russian population, I've taken care of a couple Russian speakers, and was able to communicate on a very basic level until the real interpreter arrived...without having to pull out the picture charts.
As a nurse, the most practical second language choice would Spanish. However, I don't want to learn Spanish. Why? Because it's almost expected. It pisses me off when I get a patient who has been in the country 10+ years, and doesn't speak a lick of English, and then they get pissed off because I don't know Spanish. Fuck you, compadre! At least with the Russian and Japanese patients, they are just happy that some loud American is trying to learn their language.
Despite my love of foreign languages (Spanish and French notwithstanding), I do cringe when we get the confused ones. You can't reason with a confused patient, and it's impossible when they are nuttier than squirrel shit.
Recently, we played host to a confused Russian speaking patient who, for whatever reason, wanted to climb out of bed. Because of their condition, this was a big no-no. After 20 or so sprints to their room to put them back into bed, we were all pretty frustrated. Our only translator was someone we had to call on the phone, and the doctor's only solution was to call the translator.
At the end of the morning, Roosky decides to make another break for it. I haul ass into the room to see arms and legs everywhere, as Roosky has decided to fight. Now, I haven't retained very much of the Russian I have learned, so it surprised me even then when I blurted out, "Sit down now!" in the language of Mother Russia. As an afterthought, I added, "Please!"
I know that is what I said, because at that moment, that was the only phrase I remembered...and I checked on the internet later to make sure I didn't tell the patient he looked like RuPaul.
And it worked. The patient sat on the bed, and proceeded to give me the glare of death.
So, it looks like I will look at taking those classes again. I'm bored anyway and need a challenge.
Until then, I'll just go back to the picture charts.
In high school, I spent a year studying Japanese. I learned a lot of it, and retained most of it. The only time that actually using it presented itself was a Japanese patient. Excited that I could talk to her, my excitement was short-lived as the patient had Alzheimer's, and what she spoke was neither Japanese nor English. In fact, her own kids didn't even know what it was.
My next language crush was Russian. I looked into taking some classes, picked up a couple books and tapes and would listen to them in my car as I was driving to and from work. Because Kansas City has a large Russian population, I've taken care of a couple Russian speakers, and was able to communicate on a very basic level until the real interpreter arrived...without having to pull out the picture charts.
As a nurse, the most practical second language choice would Spanish. However, I don't want to learn Spanish. Why? Because it's almost expected. It pisses me off when I get a patient who has been in the country 10+ years, and doesn't speak a lick of English, and then they get pissed off because I don't know Spanish. Fuck you, compadre! At least with the Russian and Japanese patients, they are just happy that some loud American is trying to learn their language.
Despite my love of foreign languages (Spanish and French notwithstanding), I do cringe when we get the confused ones. You can't reason with a confused patient, and it's impossible when they are nuttier than squirrel shit.
Recently, we played host to a confused Russian speaking patient who, for whatever reason, wanted to climb out of bed. Because of their condition, this was a big no-no. After 20 or so sprints to their room to put them back into bed, we were all pretty frustrated. Our only translator was someone we had to call on the phone, and the doctor's only solution was to call the translator.
At the end of the morning, Roosky decides to make another break for it. I haul ass into the room to see arms and legs everywhere, as Roosky has decided to fight. Now, I haven't retained very much of the Russian I have learned, so it surprised me even then when I blurted out, "Sit down now!" in the language of Mother Russia. As an afterthought, I added, "Please!"
I know that is what I said, because at that moment, that was the only phrase I remembered...and I checked on the internet later to make sure I didn't tell the patient he looked like RuPaul.
And it worked. The patient sat on the bed, and proceeded to give me the glare of death.
So, it looks like I will look at taking those classes again. I'm bored anyway and need a challenge.
Until then, I'll just go back to the picture charts.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Friday Feast: The Meesha Edition
Dedicated to Meesha...because he can't get enough of the Friday Feast.
Appetizer
Name a color you find soothing.
Green. It's the color of my bedroom. Soothing and sensual.
Soup
Using 20 or less words, describe your first driving experience.
Dad's too drunk to drive. A 14 year old driving an old Ford van. We get pulled over. Fun ensues.
Salad
What material is your favorite item of clothing made out of?
Thai Silk
Main Course
Who is a great singer or musician who, if they were to come to your town for a concert, you would spend the night outside waiting for tickets to see?
I'm not crazy enough about an artist to camp outside for tickets.
Dessert
What is the most frequent letter of the alphabet in your whole name (first, middle, maiden, last, etc.)?
E...4 times.
Appetizer
Name a color you find soothing.
Green. It's the color of my bedroom. Soothing and sensual.
Soup
Using 20 or less words, describe your first driving experience.
Dad's too drunk to drive. A 14 year old driving an old Ford van. We get pulled over. Fun ensues.
Salad
What material is your favorite item of clothing made out of?
Thai Silk
Main Course
Who is a great singer or musician who, if they were to come to your town for a concert, you would spend the night outside waiting for tickets to see?
I'm not crazy enough about an artist to camp outside for tickets.
Dessert
What is the most frequent letter of the alphabet in your whole name (first, middle, maiden, last, etc.)?
E...4 times.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Channeling My Inner Diva
So today I went and had the bootwagga checked out. It was the standard P&P, and not the dreaded colp. I was worried. I hate the colp. I despise the colp. For guys who don't know what a colposcopy is...just imagine taking tiny little sharp cutting tool and cutting a tiny chunk out of the head of your penis. Then, slather something on it that looks like hot mustard to stop the bleeding.
Like I said, I hate the colp. If I had to pick between a root canal, a visit to my retina specialist, or a colp...I would chose to do the root canal and a visit to the retina specialist. In the same day.
My doctor wondered why I was slow moving around, I explained that two straight days of raking, blowing, and bagging leaves left me with a strained muscle in my upper back. Feeling sorry for me, she wrote me a prescription for Flexaril. I love my gynecologist.
(On a side note, she didn't see anything abnormal. Test results will come back in a week or so to be certain.)
After that, I called Indy and we agreed to meet at Houlihans for dinner...but he was running behind (an additional nap after 13 hours of sleep will do that to a person), so he had to shower first and all that other guy-stuff.
To kill time, I stopped by Barnes and Noble, found a cool coffee table book in the clearance section. It's all about Japan, with neat pictures and some insight into their culture. I'm a Japanophile. I admit it. I also bought The Count of Monte Cristo to read, because I'm not a huge reader of female fluff books, which apparently is the new trend with writing. I'll stick with the classics, thank you very much.
Indy and I meet at Houlihans and sit on the bar side because in order to get the happy hour specials, you have to sit on the bar side. They are currently running a promotion tied in with Sex and the City. I don't really watch this show (I've only see a few episodes), but Indy is a huge fan. He orders the Mr. Big drink, which is a big Lemon Drop type drink (sweet and sour, on then off). I think this drink is appropriate for him. He is a lot like Mr. Big, but not as tall.
I order Charlotte's drink (whatever they called it), and as mentioned by Erin, it came with a tiny lip gloss attached to the stem of the glass. At some point, a lady comes in and sets up shop in a corner. She is offering free eyebrow waxing to anyone who is interested. Or chin hair or lip waxing...whatever is needed most, I guess. I decline. The lighting in there is too dark for such a thing, especially since I have blonde eyebrows. Lord only knows what I would walk out of that restaurant looking like. Indy strongly encourages me to do it anyway. I tell him that if he gets his back hair waxed, I will get my eyebrows done.
We have appetizers for dinner, and talk about nothing important. I don't know if what happened on my birthday has made things awkward or what. He claims he doesn't remember. I'm still calling bullshit on that excuse.
After dinner, we walk around Town Center Plaza, look at clothing that's way too ugly, and way too overpriced. My knee, naturally, stiffens up because that is now what happens when I walk for too long. I can do an hour on a elliptical machine with zero problems. How is it that I can't window shop without being in excruciating pain by the time we reach Bath and Body Works????
Not only does my knee hurt, so does my back, and not one pain med in my system. I am teetering dangerously close to raging bitch. Indy makes a couple remarks about some of his other girl-friends, which make me realize he is a player and has a nurse on each floor of the hospital. I also realize I'm not as special as I had hoped I would be, and I slide into the funk of depressed and hormonal.
It was a short trip.
Limping back to the car, Indy cracks a joke about my knee and go off. I declare the date to be over, and I drop him off at his car, but not before tossing him a porno flick that was sent to me in the mail, telling him to go home and jack off to it. He laughs nervously and tells me he will call me later on this evening. My friends say that he tolerates my behavior because he loves me and is too chicken shit to face it. I say he's just a glutton for punishment.
Men...they just don't get it. Is there ever a time when they do?? Does it come upon them like a revelation where the heavens open up and angels sing?? Or does it just come upon them like farts after a beer drinking contest???
My personal life is pathetic. At least I still have the Flexaril.
Like I said, I hate the colp. If I had to pick between a root canal, a visit to my retina specialist, or a colp...I would chose to do the root canal and a visit to the retina specialist. In the same day.
My doctor wondered why I was slow moving around, I explained that two straight days of raking, blowing, and bagging leaves left me with a strained muscle in my upper back. Feeling sorry for me, she wrote me a prescription for Flexaril. I love my gynecologist.
(On a side note, she didn't see anything abnormal. Test results will come back in a week or so to be certain.)
After that, I called Indy and we agreed to meet at Houlihans for dinner...but he was running behind (an additional nap after 13 hours of sleep will do that to a person), so he had to shower first and all that other guy-stuff.
To kill time, I stopped by Barnes and Noble, found a cool coffee table book in the clearance section. It's all about Japan, with neat pictures and some insight into their culture. I'm a Japanophile. I admit it. I also bought The Count of Monte Cristo to read, because I'm not a huge reader of female fluff books, which apparently is the new trend with writing. I'll stick with the classics, thank you very much.
Indy and I meet at Houlihans and sit on the bar side because in order to get the happy hour specials, you have to sit on the bar side. They are currently running a promotion tied in with Sex and the City. I don't really watch this show (I've only see a few episodes), but Indy is a huge fan. He orders the Mr. Big drink, which is a big Lemon Drop type drink (sweet and sour, on then off). I think this drink is appropriate for him. He is a lot like Mr. Big, but not as tall.
I order Charlotte's drink (whatever they called it), and as mentioned by Erin, it came with a tiny lip gloss attached to the stem of the glass. At some point, a lady comes in and sets up shop in a corner. She is offering free eyebrow waxing to anyone who is interested. Or chin hair or lip waxing...whatever is needed most, I guess. I decline. The lighting in there is too dark for such a thing, especially since I have blonde eyebrows. Lord only knows what I would walk out of that restaurant looking like. Indy strongly encourages me to do it anyway. I tell him that if he gets his back hair waxed, I will get my eyebrows done.
We have appetizers for dinner, and talk about nothing important. I don't know if what happened on my birthday has made things awkward or what. He claims he doesn't remember. I'm still calling bullshit on that excuse.
After dinner, we walk around Town Center Plaza, look at clothing that's way too ugly, and way too overpriced. My knee, naturally, stiffens up because that is now what happens when I walk for too long. I can do an hour on a elliptical machine with zero problems. How is it that I can't window shop without being in excruciating pain by the time we reach Bath and Body Works????
Not only does my knee hurt, so does my back, and not one pain med in my system. I am teetering dangerously close to raging bitch. Indy makes a couple remarks about some of his other girl-friends, which make me realize he is a player and has a nurse on each floor of the hospital. I also realize I'm not as special as I had hoped I would be, and I slide into the funk of depressed and hormonal.
It was a short trip.
Limping back to the car, Indy cracks a joke about my knee and go off. I declare the date to be over, and I drop him off at his car, but not before tossing him a porno flick that was sent to me in the mail, telling him to go home and jack off to it. He laughs nervously and tells me he will call me later on this evening. My friends say that he tolerates my behavior because he loves me and is too chicken shit to face it. I say he's just a glutton for punishment.
Men...they just don't get it. Is there ever a time when they do?? Does it come upon them like a revelation where the heavens open up and angels sing?? Or does it just come upon them like farts after a beer drinking contest???
My personal life is pathetic. At least I still have the Flexaril.
Hump Day Blather
Got your taxes done?? I filed an extension last night. A rough estimate of my taxes shows I will getting back a good return this year. It's funny how people get excited about getting money back, especially since it was your money to start with.
I spent yesterday afternoon in the back yard, alternating raking and blowing leaves. The wind kept kicking up and changing directions, which made for frustration on my part. I managed to bag six large bags of leaves and whatnot before I gave up and went back inside the house. Yeah, I also got a sunburn on my face and the back of my neck. A redneck!
I still have enough leaves to fill another 6 bags, but I'll wait and see if the wind dies down this afternoon. I changed my appointment with Lawn Guy for tomorrow.
Last night, I visited Vietnam Cafe with some lovely lady bloggers: M Toast, Spyder, and Well Hell Michelle. I've never eaten Vietnamese before, but I'll try most anything once. Almost anything. At any rate, the food was good and reasonably priced. I plan on Yelping about it later.
Today, I have an appointment with the doctor. A follow-up from all the crap going on with Heather's Adventure Kingdom. Still closed indefinitely. No one visits there anyway.
Wish me luck!
I spent yesterday afternoon in the back yard, alternating raking and blowing leaves. The wind kept kicking up and changing directions, which made for frustration on my part. I managed to bag six large bags of leaves and whatnot before I gave up and went back inside the house. Yeah, I also got a sunburn on my face and the back of my neck. A redneck!
I still have enough leaves to fill another 6 bags, but I'll wait and see if the wind dies down this afternoon. I changed my appointment with Lawn Guy for tomorrow.
Last night, I visited Vietnam Cafe with some lovely lady bloggers: M Toast, Spyder, and Well Hell Michelle. I've never eaten Vietnamese before, but I'll try most anything once. Almost anything. At any rate, the food was good and reasonably priced. I plan on Yelping about it later.
Today, I have an appointment with the doctor. A follow-up from all the crap going on with Heather's Adventure Kingdom. Still closed indefinitely. No one visits there anyway.
Wish me luck!
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Timeline
I know I haven't been blogging on a regular basis.
I suck.
Deal.
I have the lawn guys coming over tomorrow to do the first application. However, I have about a million leaves to pick up before they do come over.
Thankfully, I now own a leaf blower. If operating a leaf blower sounds like fun to you, stop on by my house and you can blow leaves to your heart's content. When you are finished, make sure you put them in the brown yard bags that I will have on hand.
I suck.
Deal.
I have the lawn guys coming over tomorrow to do the first application. However, I have about a million leaves to pick up before they do come over.
Thankfully, I now own a leaf blower. If operating a leaf blower sounds like fun to you, stop on by my house and you can blow leaves to your heart's content. When you are finished, make sure you put them in the brown yard bags that I will have on hand.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Friday's Feast: Low Calorie Edition
Appetizer
Lets start with a trio sampler of word association… I say,
Tear :: Rip
Hawk :: feathers
Alien :: green
Soup
If you had to pick a body of water that you have visited in your life to build a house next to, which one would it be… describe the scenery.
My first cruise, we stopped at a little island called Roatan. Certainly not the most desired island in all the Caribbean, but I fell in love right away. People were poor, but very friendly. Colors seemed more vibrant. The salty air caressed your skin like an old lover. We visited a woman there, a former nurse from the States and now ran her own dayspa. Kant and I had massages, and while she was getting hers, I had a light lunch of fresh tropical fruit, then took a nap in a hammock on the porch, overlooking the ocean. As the wind swayed my hammock, I fell asleep to the sound of the waves, the birds revealed to me that this was how island life truly felt.
Salad
Everyone is being green now-a-days, what is your favorite green initiative?
I don't really have a favorite. I don't do a lot of green stuff. I know, I'm going to hell.
Main Course
Mexican is one of my favorite foods, share the name of your favorite Mexican dish with all of us (and where to find it) … even if it is just a Taco Bell chalupa?
I'm partial to the Chimichanga at Salty Iguana.
Dessert
What was the color of your first bicycle, or the oldest toy that you remember and what fruit do you associate with that color?
My first bicycle...I got it Christmas of 1980. Denver got bitch-slapped with a huge blizzard that left the entire city at a standstill. Because Santa got stuck in a snowdrift, he left bikes for me and my brothers at my great-grandmother's house. Mine was light blue. It had a banana seat that was also light blue and had clouds on it. Do they even make bikes with banana seats now??
Lets start with a trio sampler of word association… I say,
Tear :: Rip
Hawk :: feathers
Alien :: green
Soup
If you had to pick a body of water that you have visited in your life to build a house next to, which one would it be… describe the scenery.
My first cruise, we stopped at a little island called Roatan. Certainly not the most desired island in all the Caribbean, but I fell in love right away. People were poor, but very friendly. Colors seemed more vibrant. The salty air caressed your skin like an old lover. We visited a woman there, a former nurse from the States and now ran her own dayspa. Kant and I had massages, and while she was getting hers, I had a light lunch of fresh tropical fruit, then took a nap in a hammock on the porch, overlooking the ocean. As the wind swayed my hammock, I fell asleep to the sound of the waves, the birds revealed to me that this was how island life truly felt.
Salad
Everyone is being green now-a-days, what is your favorite green initiative?
I don't really have a favorite. I don't do a lot of green stuff. I know, I'm going to hell.
Main Course
Mexican is one of my favorite foods, share the name of your favorite Mexican dish with all of us (and where to find it) … even if it is just a Taco Bell chalupa?
I'm partial to the Chimichanga at Salty Iguana.
Dessert
What was the color of your first bicycle, or the oldest toy that you remember and what fruit do you associate with that color?
My first bicycle...I got it Christmas of 1980. Denver got bitch-slapped with a huge blizzard that left the entire city at a standstill. Because Santa got stuck in a snowdrift, he left bikes for me and my brothers at my great-grandmother's house. Mine was light blue. It had a banana seat that was also light blue and had clouds on it. Do they even make bikes with banana seats now??
Thursday, April 10, 2008
High on Grass!
Today, after a fun lunch with some girlfriends, I stopped by the dentist for my new, shiny, white crown to be slapped in. Thankfully, it involved no shots. I find I've become more and more hesitant with those dental shots, especially the ones that go straight up the roof of you mouth.
I got home early enough that I decided to start raking the leaves in the back yard. I raked for two straight hours before I threw in the towel. I really should invest in a leaf blower. Someone who has as many trees as I do, it should be mandatory to own one.
My back yard looks horrible, and not because of the thousands of leaves from 5 mature trees. About 25% of my yard has grass, and it's not even in one spot. My yard consists of mostly dirt. Lots and lots of dirt. Sadly, I need more dirt for various landscaping projects around the house. Surrounded by dirt, and I need more. Indy bought a truck full of dirt once, which sat in his yard in a ginormous pile for about a year. I still think he overpaid. $400 seems like a lot to spend on dirt.
I got two estimates from lawn companies, and went with the second guy because he offered me 2 free treatments that the first one didn't. When I told the first guy of my decision, he was very put-off. Well, if he had offered me 3 free treatments, then we would have had a deal. Whatever. At least he will stop calling my house every 15 minutes. Seriously. I couldn't take a dump without him calling right in the middle of it.
So, next week the Lawn Guy is supposed to come and do something to my yard. I don't know what...he was tossing out all these fancy words for grass and fertilizer. I don't really care about the technical part...just make grass grow in my back yard. I want to be able to sit on my deck in my pajamas, and look out on a green yard while sipping iced tea. Right now, I sit on my deck and gaze upon my dirt and have an overwhelming urge to go lay down on I-70. It's that depressing.
I'm very excited at the prospect of grass. I'm actually looking forward to having grass to mow. Last year, it wasn't even worth the effort to fire up the mower.
Despite having lush grass, I still don't plan on walking in it barefoot. I do have a Saint Bernard to consider.
I got home early enough that I decided to start raking the leaves in the back yard. I raked for two straight hours before I threw in the towel. I really should invest in a leaf blower. Someone who has as many trees as I do, it should be mandatory to own one.
My back yard looks horrible, and not because of the thousands of leaves from 5 mature trees. About 25% of my yard has grass, and it's not even in one spot. My yard consists of mostly dirt. Lots and lots of dirt. Sadly, I need more dirt for various landscaping projects around the house. Surrounded by dirt, and I need more. Indy bought a truck full of dirt once, which sat in his yard in a ginormous pile for about a year. I still think he overpaid. $400 seems like a lot to spend on dirt.
I got two estimates from lawn companies, and went with the second guy because he offered me 2 free treatments that the first one didn't. When I told the first guy of my decision, he was very put-off. Well, if he had offered me 3 free treatments, then we would have had a deal. Whatever. At least he will stop calling my house every 15 minutes. Seriously. I couldn't take a dump without him calling right in the middle of it.
So, next week the Lawn Guy is supposed to come and do something to my yard. I don't know what...he was tossing out all these fancy words for grass and fertilizer. I don't really care about the technical part...just make grass grow in my back yard. I want to be able to sit on my deck in my pajamas, and look out on a green yard while sipping iced tea. Right now, I sit on my deck and gaze upon my dirt and have an overwhelming urge to go lay down on I-70. It's that depressing.
I'm very excited at the prospect of grass. I'm actually looking forward to having grass to mow. Last year, it wasn't even worth the effort to fire up the mower.
Despite having lush grass, I still don't plan on walking in it barefoot. I do have a Saint Bernard to consider.
Monday, April 07, 2008
In Case You Were Wondering...
...as to why I haven't posted anything about the Jayhawks. It's not because I'm a chronic hater, or a fair weather fan.
I really just don't give a shit.
When does football season begin???
I really just don't give a shit.
When does football season begin???
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Presenting: Hank the Tank!!!
The new arrival made his big debut at Casa de H-Train this Saturday after brother went and picked him up from a breeder in St. Joseph. Not a puppy mill, I double checked. 
First, he stopped by Mom's for a little show and tell. She loves her new grandson. From there, both Mom and Brother came over and deposited the furball on my bed while I was sleeping. 
There are worse things to be wakened by, I suppose.Brother was originally going to name him Harley, but it turns out that every other person names their dog Harley. So, in keeping with our family's fine tradition of mediocre pet names, he decided on Hank.
What is Hank? Hank is a Saint Bernard. A real Saint Bernard with no added preservatives or fillers. Their average weight fully grown...170-200lbs. He's going to take colossal shits in the yard. Hope Brother has a durable shovel. I'm having the yard treated this season.
Sam has already assumed the roll of long-suffering elder. Hank climbs all over Sam, and Sam just lays there and rolls his eyes. It will be interesting to see what happens once Hank grows up.
For the most part, Hank is a very mild tempered puppy. Where Sam was on what appeared to be a chronic meth trip, Hank is laid back. Actually, he's a slug. You can put him anywhere, and he will just lay down and go to sleep in that spot. A couch potato in the making.
For the most part, Hank is a very mild tempered puppy. Where Sam was on what appeared to be a chronic meth trip, Hank is laid back. Actually, he's a slug. You can put him anywhere, and he will just lay down and go to sleep in that spot. A couch potato in the making.
What's really fun to watch is how Brother interacts with Hank. It's like Brother has a son. He carries Hank around in his arms. Hank follows Brother around the house, and whines when he is not within his immediate eyesight.
Life should be interesting with a Saint Bernard. I can't wait until he's old enough to wear the keg.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Big News!!
We're welcoming a new addition to the household this weekend.
More details to come...and pics!!
More details to come...and pics!!
Friday, April 04, 2008
Tales from the Scale
I did my weigh-in Thursday for my first week on Weight Watchers. I lost a grand total of 2.6lbs, which I thought was impressive considering I fell off the eat-healthy wagon at least once.
Empowered by my loss, and bored by the discussion at the meeting that I was guilted into staying for, I texted the joyous news to my friends. I got the following replies:
No-Nicknamed Friend: Yay! Good job, H-Train!
Smo: Good 4 u! I'm proud of u.
Indy: You pooped.
Can you imagine the support I would get if I was kicking a serious habit, like say, oh...meth?
I've done WW before, it always worked for me, but I always ended up quitting because I didn't like being obsessed with food, calculating points, and always thinking of what I'm going to eat for my next meal. I'm more accustomed to food as an afterthought, which stems from the crappy eating habits I developed in my formative years.
I'd skip breakfast, go to school, skip lunch because I was the poor kid that got teased, and the cafeteria was prime hunting grounds for such things. Instead, I would spend my lunch hour taking refuge in the library, and devour books instead of food. I'd go home and snarf all my calories in one sitting, and do it all over the next day. Track season was worse because I'd go to practice on a empty stomach, then I'd go home and eat anything I could get my hands on.
I was always tiny (I remember apologizing to the school nurse when she weighed me in high school and I hit 102lbs...I'd been 97lbs for a long, long time.) It wasn't until my parents divorced and my dad moved us to Nebraska that I started putting on weight. I hated living in Nebraska, particularly the town only known for being the home of that lead guy from Paul Revere and the Raiders, and that person who invented some little plastic thing for peeling hard boiled eggs.
Back to the point: my eating habits suck. I still skip meals, and load up on calories in one meal. At least with WW, I'm actually trying to eat like a normal person.
So, now I'm back in the saddle. WW came up with a new plan where I don't have to count points and be obsessed with food, which is good because I prefer to be obsessed with other things. Not to mention there are a hundred better things to talk about over breakfast instead of what I am going to have for dinner.
I'm not particularly fond of the meetings. They work for some people. I just like to get the reading material and read it on my own. That's my thing, but somehow those little old ladies that work the front desk always guilt you into staying. Okay...I'll stay, but I am NOT wearing the name tag.
This meeting, a member was freaking out because she would be travelling this weekend and she knew they would be stopping at one of those pizza buffets. The dreaded pizza buffet!! Everyone is tossing ideas: eat from the salad bar! Eat just a small piece! Stay in the car and eat a granola bar! Finally, some guy just suggested she request a pizza high in veggies and half the cheese. This conversation took a good ten minutes.
I remember going to a meeting once with Kant, and as we sat there, I had a question.
Me: If you add butter to something, it raises the point value.
WW Rep: Right!
Me: And anything that has a high fiber content, lowers the point value.
WW Rep: Correct!
Me: So, why can't someone just add a fiber additive to their food to lower the points?
WW Rep is puzzled because he clearly has no idea where I am going with this, but the lady sitting behind me does, and she gets very animated...bouncing up and down in her chair. I could just hear the wheels spinning in her head.
Lady: Ooooh!! Like adding that tasteless, colorless fiber to stuff!! To everything!!!
On the way home, I told Kant that that same lady would probably be at home that night, dipping a king sized Snickers bar in a bowl of Benefiber before each bite. A little while later, I noticed that on the WW message boards, people were talking about doing this very same thing. People are always stealing my ideas.
So, now I'm back "on plan". Thankfully, they have an option that doesn't entail points. Just a list of stuff I can eat guilt-free. The hardest part is making myself eat three times a day.
Good thing I like eggs. I rock the scrambled eggs. I'm still not touching onions.
Empowered by my loss, and bored by the discussion at the meeting that I was guilted into staying for, I texted the joyous news to my friends. I got the following replies:
No-Nicknamed Friend: Yay! Good job, H-Train!
Smo: Good 4 u! I'm proud of u.
Indy: You pooped.
Can you imagine the support I would get if I was kicking a serious habit, like say, oh...meth?
I've done WW before, it always worked for me, but I always ended up quitting because I didn't like being obsessed with food, calculating points, and always thinking of what I'm going to eat for my next meal. I'm more accustomed to food as an afterthought, which stems from the crappy eating habits I developed in my formative years.
I'd skip breakfast, go to school, skip lunch because I was the poor kid that got teased, and the cafeteria was prime hunting grounds for such things. Instead, I would spend my lunch hour taking refuge in the library, and devour books instead of food. I'd go home and snarf all my calories in one sitting, and do it all over the next day. Track season was worse because I'd go to practice on a empty stomach, then I'd go home and eat anything I could get my hands on.
I was always tiny (I remember apologizing to the school nurse when she weighed me in high school and I hit 102lbs...I'd been 97lbs for a long, long time.) It wasn't until my parents divorced and my dad moved us to Nebraska that I started putting on weight. I hated living in Nebraska, particularly the town only known for being the home of that lead guy from Paul Revere and the Raiders, and that person who invented some little plastic thing for peeling hard boiled eggs.
Back to the point: my eating habits suck. I still skip meals, and load up on calories in one meal. At least with WW, I'm actually trying to eat like a normal person.
So, now I'm back in the saddle. WW came up with a new plan where I don't have to count points and be obsessed with food, which is good because I prefer to be obsessed with other things. Not to mention there are a hundred better things to talk about over breakfast instead of what I am going to have for dinner.
I'm not particularly fond of the meetings. They work for some people. I just like to get the reading material and read it on my own. That's my thing, but somehow those little old ladies that work the front desk always guilt you into staying. Okay...I'll stay, but I am NOT wearing the name tag.
This meeting, a member was freaking out because she would be travelling this weekend and she knew they would be stopping at one of those pizza buffets. The dreaded pizza buffet!! Everyone is tossing ideas: eat from the salad bar! Eat just a small piece! Stay in the car and eat a granola bar! Finally, some guy just suggested she request a pizza high in veggies and half the cheese. This conversation took a good ten minutes.
I remember going to a meeting once with Kant, and as we sat there, I had a question.
Me: If you add butter to something, it raises the point value.
WW Rep: Right!
Me: And anything that has a high fiber content, lowers the point value.
WW Rep: Correct!
Me: So, why can't someone just add a fiber additive to their food to lower the points?
WW Rep is puzzled because he clearly has no idea where I am going with this, but the lady sitting behind me does, and she gets very animated...bouncing up and down in her chair. I could just hear the wheels spinning in her head.
Lady: Ooooh!! Like adding that tasteless, colorless fiber to stuff!! To everything!!!
On the way home, I told Kant that that same lady would probably be at home that night, dipping a king sized Snickers bar in a bowl of Benefiber before each bite. A little while later, I noticed that on the WW message boards, people were talking about doing this very same thing. People are always stealing my ideas.
So, now I'm back "on plan". Thankfully, they have an option that doesn't entail points. Just a list of stuff I can eat guilt-free. The hardest part is making myself eat three times a day.
Good thing I like eggs. I rock the scrambled eggs. I'm still not touching onions.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Tales of the Homeowner: The Abandoned Car
Apparently, my next door neighbors are slugs. Not my Mom and Mr. Recommendation. The ones who live on the other side of me.
Early last year, the older guy who lived there, parked his late-model, four-door Ford POS in front of my house. I noted that the same car had been parked in front of their house initially. I don't know why they decided to move the car. I don't even know why they thought I wouldn't mind them parking it in front of my house.
So, this car sat there, front tire sitting on my grass. Eventually, the tire became so flat, the whole thing came off the rim. Tags showed they had expired back in 2004. At first, I gave the neighbors a break and figured they would move the car once the weather became favorable. But after a year of looking at it, and bitching about it to everyone else, I decided to I needed to do something about it.
The good neighbor across the street told me that the Slughorns (my name for them), are lazy homeowners. The type that drive everyone nuts. At one point, their house was such an eyesore, complaints were made to the city, who then forced the Slughorns to have their house painted. They don't mow their grass. They don't rake the leaves. They don't do anything but glare at everyone else. Neighbor lady told me that to get these people to do anything, they have to be threatened by the city.
I was perusing the city web page looking for info on bulk item pickup (for Mom, or rather, her old stove), when I saw the 311 call page for services. Clicking on that, I discovered I could make a request for abandoned car pick-up. I just filled in my address, explained the problem, and hit enter.
It was so easy!
I received an email saying that my request had been received and someone would be contacting me shortly. I figured I wouldn't hear from anyone for a week or more, because that is how city government works.
So imagine my shock when a tow truck appeared thirty minutes ago, along with a police officer driving the Ford Focus patrol car (poor guy), and said abandoned car was towed away. I watched with glee and clapped softly (as Brother is asleep in the next room) as it was loaded onto the back of the flatbed, and danced in my office as the driver pulled away. I literally danced.
Now the car is gone. I can't believe it's all gone. Holy shit! If I had known how easy and quick that was going to be, I would have reported it AGES ago.
And the funny thing...some dude looking like Larry the Cable Guy came to my house this morning and asked if the car was mine. He was apparently in the business of buying junk cars and was interested. Or maybe it was all a ruse to determine the tow driver wouldn't get shot at while collecting the car.
Regardless of whether Spanky was legit, I don't care. The car is gone! The car is gone! The car is gone!
I don't know how the Slughorns feel about this, I think they were home during the blessed event. Maybe they were happy to be rid of the thing. Maybe I did them a favor.
Or maybe they are just really, really pissed and are now plotting their revenge.
I'd better keep an eye on Sam when he's in the backyard.
Early last year, the older guy who lived there, parked his late-model, four-door Ford POS in front of my house. I noted that the same car had been parked in front of their house initially. I don't know why they decided to move the car. I don't even know why they thought I wouldn't mind them parking it in front of my house.
So, this car sat there, front tire sitting on my grass. Eventually, the tire became so flat, the whole thing came off the rim. Tags showed they had expired back in 2004. At first, I gave the neighbors a break and figured they would move the car once the weather became favorable. But after a year of looking at it, and bitching about it to everyone else, I decided to I needed to do something about it.
The good neighbor across the street told me that the Slughorns (my name for them), are lazy homeowners. The type that drive everyone nuts. At one point, their house was such an eyesore, complaints were made to the city, who then forced the Slughorns to have their house painted. They don't mow their grass. They don't rake the leaves. They don't do anything but glare at everyone else. Neighbor lady told me that to get these people to do anything, they have to be threatened by the city.
I was perusing the city web page looking for info on bulk item pickup (for Mom, or rather, her old stove), when I saw the 311 call page for services. Clicking on that, I discovered I could make a request for abandoned car pick-up. I just filled in my address, explained the problem, and hit enter.
It was so easy!
I received an email saying that my request had been received and someone would be contacting me shortly. I figured I wouldn't hear from anyone for a week or more, because that is how city government works.
So imagine my shock when a tow truck appeared thirty minutes ago, along with a police officer driving the Ford Focus patrol car (poor guy), and said abandoned car was towed away. I watched with glee and clapped softly (as Brother is asleep in the next room) as it was loaded onto the back of the flatbed, and danced in my office as the driver pulled away. I literally danced.
Now the car is gone. I can't believe it's all gone. Holy shit! If I had known how easy and quick that was going to be, I would have reported it AGES ago.
And the funny thing...some dude looking like Larry the Cable Guy came to my house this morning and asked if the car was mine. He was apparently in the business of buying junk cars and was interested. Or maybe it was all a ruse to determine the tow driver wouldn't get shot at while collecting the car.
Regardless of whether Spanky was legit, I don't care. The car is gone! The car is gone! The car is gone!
I don't know how the Slughorns feel about this, I think they were home during the blessed event. Maybe they were happy to be rid of the thing. Maybe I did them a favor.
Or maybe they are just really, really pissed and are now plotting their revenge.
I'd better keep an eye on Sam when he's in the backyard.
Clean House!
I cleaned my house. That should last a day or two.
You know how some people have really nice houses that on any given day you could go over and it would look like they just finished a photo shoot for some home magazine. Everything is in it's perfect little place. Everything matches. And everything looks sparkling new due to non-use.
That's not my house.
My house, on any given day, looks like people live here. From the ginormous sneakers by the couch, to the half-chewed dog toys sprinkled throughout the house, to the tattoo equipment that now sits on my dining room table. My house would never be featured in any home magazine unless it paid tribute to the cluttered, casual, middle-class.
So, yesterday, I spent the day cleaning. I swept and polished the hardwood floors downstairs. Did the dishes, cleaned the kitchen. Did two loads of laundry. Vacuumed the upstairs and shampooed the carpets. Changed the linens on my bed, giving the new sheets a couple squirts of Quelques Fleur. (This could very well be my most favorite perfume of all time.)
Now, I'm sitting in my pajamas. Revelling in a clean house. I guess I could do some yard work today. I have a shit ton of leaves that won't collect themselves. But I am still tired, so I might go back to bed for an extended nap.
You know how some people have really nice houses that on any given day you could go over and it would look like they just finished a photo shoot for some home magazine. Everything is in it's perfect little place. Everything matches. And everything looks sparkling new due to non-use.
That's not my house.
My house, on any given day, looks like people live here. From the ginormous sneakers by the couch, to the half-chewed dog toys sprinkled throughout the house, to the tattoo equipment that now sits on my dining room table. My house would never be featured in any home magazine unless it paid tribute to the cluttered, casual, middle-class.
So, yesterday, I spent the day cleaning. I swept and polished the hardwood floors downstairs. Did the dishes, cleaned the kitchen. Did two loads of laundry. Vacuumed the upstairs and shampooed the carpets. Changed the linens on my bed, giving the new sheets a couple squirts of Quelques Fleur. (This could very well be my most favorite perfume of all time.)
Now, I'm sitting in my pajamas. Revelling in a clean house. I guess I could do some yard work today. I have a shit ton of leaves that won't collect themselves. But I am still tired, so I might go back to bed for an extended nap.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
April Fools Convo
Me: I have something to tell you.
Indy: What?
Me: About that Friday...I'm pregnant...you're the father.
Indy: Whatever. April Fools!
Me: Oh well.
Indy: I was so drunk that night.
Me: Yeah, you wouldn't have been able to get it up if you tried.
Indy: True. I couldn't have.
I suck at this April Fools thing. I will have to try harder.
Indy: What?
Me: About that Friday...I'm pregnant...you're the father.
Indy: Whatever. April Fools!
Me: Oh well.
Indy: I was so drunk that night.
Me: Yeah, you wouldn't have been able to get it up if you tried.
Indy: True. I couldn't have.
I suck at this April Fools thing. I will have to try harder.
Tuesday Blather
Overall, a decent weekend. I was so tired on Sunday, that I woke up at 4 in the afternoon and thought it was Monday, and therefor, wasn't making any plans to come into work. That would have been a disaster.
When I got home, I checked my emails and favorite message boards and discovered that a beloved member of the cruising community I belong to expectantly died this weekend. Her husband went to work, and when he came home he found her dead. Apparently, a massive heart attack.
She was a really nice lady, and I don't think she ever knew a stranger...only friends she hadn't met yet. I cruised with her a couple times, and her smile was easily recognizable. It's a damn shame, and she will be missed.
Yesterday afternoon, No-Nick Named Friend came over (I really, really need to think of a nickname for her). I wish I could say to visit me, but she just came to see Brother. They are sort of dating now. I like to take credit because I introduced them. I knew that they would hit it off, and I told her this over a year ago. I have a knack for matchmaking. If I had the kind of success in my own personal relationships that I did pairing other people up, I'd be married by now.
Tweener emailed me a bunch of pics from my birthday festivities. And no, I'm not going to post any of them. That's incriminating evidence, or as one other blogger noted, "They calls it blackmail!"
Right now, I'm just chillin'. Drinking my coffee, fortified with a fiber supplement. Not that I am irregular or anything, but I'm sure my cholesterol needs the hit. I have a nasty kitchen that needs tending to. I may as well the rest of the house while I am at it. I also have to finish putting the groceries away I bought on my late-night shopping excursion last night. I also bought three frisbees in my effort to teach a not-so-old dog new tricks.
Okay, the coffee is finished. Time for the work to begin. I'm not talking about the fiber. I have dishes that won't clean themselves.
When I got home, I checked my emails and favorite message boards and discovered that a beloved member of the cruising community I belong to expectantly died this weekend. Her husband went to work, and when he came home he found her dead. Apparently, a massive heart attack.
She was a really nice lady, and I don't think she ever knew a stranger...only friends she hadn't met yet. I cruised with her a couple times, and her smile was easily recognizable. It's a damn shame, and she will be missed.
Yesterday afternoon, No-Nick Named Friend came over (I really, really need to think of a nickname for her). I wish I could say to visit me, but she just came to see Brother. They are sort of dating now. I like to take credit because I introduced them. I knew that they would hit it off, and I told her this over a year ago. I have a knack for matchmaking. If I had the kind of success in my own personal relationships that I did pairing other people up, I'd be married by now.
Tweener emailed me a bunch of pics from my birthday festivities. And no, I'm not going to post any of them. That's incriminating evidence, or as one other blogger noted, "They calls it blackmail!"
Right now, I'm just chillin'. Drinking my coffee, fortified with a fiber supplement. Not that I am irregular or anything, but I'm sure my cholesterol needs the hit. I have a nasty kitchen that needs tending to. I may as well the rest of the house while I am at it. I also have to finish putting the groceries away I bought on my late-night shopping excursion last night. I also bought three frisbees in my effort to teach a not-so-old dog new tricks.
Okay, the coffee is finished. Time for the work to begin. I'm not talking about the fiber. I have dishes that won't clean themselves.
Friday, March 28, 2008
One Word Answers
Another meme I found...
You're Feeling: Tired
To Your Left: Mug
On Your Mind: Boys
Last Meal Included: Ketchup
You Sometimes Find it Hard To: Workout
The Weather: Sunny
Something You Have a Collection of: Magnets
A Smell that Cheers You Up: Spring
A Smell that Can Ruin Your Mood: Necrosis
How Long Since You Last Shaved: Yesterday
The Current State of Your Hair: Bedhead
The Largest Item On Your Desk/Workspace Right Now (besides computer): Crock
Your Skill with Chopsticks: Mad
Which Section You Head to First In the Bookstore: Clearance
...and After That?: Releases
Something You're Craving: Sleep
Your General Thoughts On the Presidential Race: Overkill
How Many Times You've Been Hospitalized this Year: None
A Favorite Place to Go for Quiet Time: Bedroom
You've Always Secretly Thought You'd Be a Good: Sexologist
Something that Freaks You Out a Little: Lice
Something You've Eaten Too Much of Lately: Hamburgers
You Have Never: married
You Never Want To: divorce
Tag: Everyone.
You're Feeling: Tired
To Your Left: Mug
On Your Mind: Boys
Last Meal Included: Ketchup
You Sometimes Find it Hard To: Workout
The Weather: Sunny
Something You Have a Collection of: Magnets
A Smell that Cheers You Up: Spring
A Smell that Can Ruin Your Mood: Necrosis
How Long Since You Last Shaved: Yesterday
The Current State of Your Hair: Bedhead
The Largest Item On Your Desk/Workspace Right Now (besides computer): Crock
Your Skill with Chopsticks: Mad
Which Section You Head to First In the Bookstore: Clearance
...and After That?: Releases
Something You're Craving: Sleep
Your General Thoughts On the Presidential Race: Overkill
How Many Times You've Been Hospitalized this Year: None
A Favorite Place to Go for Quiet Time: Bedroom
You've Always Secretly Thought You'd Be a Good: Sexologist
Something that Freaks You Out a Little: Lice
Something You've Eaten Too Much of Lately: Hamburgers
You Have Never: married
You Never Want To: divorce
Tag: Everyone.
Friday's Feast
Appetizer
What does the color dark green make you think of?
Dark green
Soup
How many cousins do you have?
Too many to actually keep track of. How many I actually still talk to? Less than five.
Salad
On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being highest, how honest are you?
I'm between a 9 and a 10. This is why I get into trouble.
Main Course
Name something that is truly free.
My boobs when I don't wear a bra.
Dessert
Using the letters in the word SPRING, write a sentence.
Some people resist, I'm not going.
What does the color dark green make you think of?
Dark green
Soup
How many cousins do you have?
Too many to actually keep track of. How many I actually still talk to? Less than five.
Salad
On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being highest, how honest are you?
I'm between a 9 and a 10. This is why I get into trouble.
Main Course
Name something that is truly free.
My boobs when I don't wear a bra.
Dessert
Using the letters in the word SPRING, write a sentence.
Some people resist, I'm not going.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
At Home At The Home Show
I went to the Home Show this year. Because I work weekends, today was the only day I could go. Because everyone else I know works normal hours, or just had to work last night, I had to go by myself. No biggie. I've done it before.
First thing in the morning, after Indy woke me up (and I don't really remember much of what was said), I showered, dressed, and went to Home Depot for an advanced ticket. Saved $3 that I applied to a shaken iced tea at Starbucks. I loves me some shaken iced tea, black, with three Splendas.
From there, I drove to the Weight Watchers office and signed up. Say what you will about Weight Watchers, but that shit works. I felt inspired by Dan for one thing. Another was that I felt like the folks who made out with me at my birthday party, did so out of obligation (because it was my birthday and all.) No one ever truly wants to make out with the fat chick, even though she is the best kisser in the Greater Kansas City Area.
Oddly enough, I'm surprised a certain few still own up to doing it, instead of playing like they are too drunk to remember or be accountable for what they did. You know what they say: getting with a fat chick is like riding a scooter. It's a lot of fun, but you don't want your friends to know about it...
Anyway, I signed up, got my WW stuff and weighed in. I was shocked that I weighed a shit-ton less than I did than my last doctor's visit. See! It's working already!! And...AND...I get to claim it as a deduction next year. Hah!!
Back to the Home Show...
I drove downtown, and the usual spot I park was closed. So, I had to park many, many, many blocks away. Ordinarily, I don't mind walking, but I have something very wrong with my knee and it's all wobbly, and it was butt-ass cold outside.
At any rate, I hot foot it to Bartle, give them my advanced ticket, and I am transported into homeowner heaven (or hell, if that sort of thing is not your idea of fun).
The economy must suck. Free show swag was down to a minimum. The KC Parks booth gave me a free rain gauge so I can also obsess about how much rainfall we get. I got a free tape measure from some stone place. A few ink pens. And that's it. Cheap bastards!
I stopped by the Home Depot display to have a look around, and was accosted by a little, ugly Hispanic dude. After a couple times of him asking, I was able to determine that he wanted to know if I was interested in siding, roofing, gutters, or windows. Well, considering my house already has siding, roof, and gutters, and I do plan on having some new windows put in before the next cold season hits, I answered windows.
He drags me over to three guys standing there, and they ask me questions about my windows. Do I want Home Depot to install them? No...that is what Redneck Brother is going to do to work off his debt to me. Baldy snorts, apparently amused that I'm too cheap to pay for professional installation. I laugh, and Baldy sneers that I think it's funny. He actually says, "Look! She's laughing."
"Actually, my brother worked for Pella installing windows for years. He probably has more experience than some of your employees." I reply. I hear their collective penises shrivel. Pella is sold by Lowes, Home Depot's arch nemesis.
I'm suddenly not interested in Home Depot anymore, so I move on to to another booth. Assholes.
Everyone was selling some sort of new cleaning thing that was supposed to revolutionize the way I clean my house. I wasn't buying. Besides, I already bought all that crap at the last Home Show I attended. I don't know about the revolutionizing part, but nifty new cleaning gadgets have not made me want to clean my house anymore than I did before.
This year, my interest was in gardens and landscaping. They either didn't have many, or I just couldn't find them, but companies who grow simple grass were at a premium. I don't need special landscaping curb installed. I just want green, lush grass. I spotted one lawn care booth, marched up to it, and announced that I wanted grass in my backyard (because right now, my yard consists of dirt and weeds). The toothless guy, who also owns the business, tells me he doesn't service my area. Well, fine. I'll take my money elsewhere.
Because it was also a garden show, a couple companies had entries...little gardens set up for contest. Some go all out. Some, not so much. My favorites are generally the ones with water fountains, pools and ponds. Save for one this year that gave me the willies.
The theme for this entry had something to do with a leisurely day of fishing.
WHO THE FUCK THINKS A SUNKEN BOAT MAKES FOR A NICE WATER GARDEN???
I'll be honest. Sinking boats scare me. Not the ginormous cruise ships I like to park my fat ass on once a year. No, I can handle that. I'm talking about little boats like this. Little boats you take your family on for weekends at the lake. When I was six, I once saw a boat sink beside a dock because the assclowns forgot to put the plug in, and that image has stayed with me through the ages. I own a boat, and I have a recurrent nightmare that it will sink. It doesn't even matter if I am on the damn thing. Little boats sinking is one of the few things that scare the hell out of me. My father would be so ashamed if he were alive today. That is how important boating was to my family growing up.
Here is the opposite side of the entry. On the right of the picture, there was a huge cascading water fountain. That was nice. However, my eyes kept darting over to that friggin' boat. One of the employees was standing there, and I told them his sunken boat creeped me out. He just shrugged and said it was the idea of his boss. Having the willies, the only thing that calmed me was the baby ducks that also were part of the entry.
Ahhhh...little baby ducks make everything better. They could have been geese, I'm not really sure. But they were small, and cute, and didn't look anything like a sunken boat.
I stopped by the pet corner of the show and watched a demo from the Kansas City Disc Dogs. The dogs were pretty cool, and they gave pointers on how to get your dog started on frisbee sport. I think Sam would do well with frisbee. He'll chase after anything I throw at him. This will be my summer project.
Rounding a corner, I spotted something shiny and was immediately transfixed on these shower panels that feature a fixed rain shower head, a handheld shower head, and six body sprays. I called Mr. Recommendation to see if it was a good price (it was a really good price), and because it is exactly what I want for the master bath, I put a deposit down and ordered one.
Heated tile floors, full body shower...when that bathroom is finished, I am NEVER coming out. However, if you would like to use my shower, I would entertain it, for a nominal fee, of course. Unless you are extremely hot and want to shower with me...I'm sure we could reach some sort of arrangement that is mutually beneficial to both parties.
I purchased a couple more candles from my most favorite soy candle people in all the world. I also found a handy new grooming brush for Sam and his wild fuzz. I also bought a chunk of summer sausage for Brother (because he *loves* the sausage). My spending didn't go much further than that because I splurged on the shower panel. Four hours after arriving, I called it a day and made the long hike back to my car. Sore knee, cold, depressing weather, and soy candles. A tiring, yet productive, day.
If you have nothing else to do this weekend, and this sort of thing sounds like fun to you, check out the home show. You can also stop by the sunken boat garden entry and tell them that you know a nurse that had to be sedated after seeing their display.
You can also go to the Home Depot booth and kick Baldy in the nuts.
First thing in the morning, after Indy woke me up (and I don't really remember much of what was said), I showered, dressed, and went to Home Depot for an advanced ticket. Saved $3 that I applied to a shaken iced tea at Starbucks. I loves me some shaken iced tea, black, with three Splendas.
From there, I drove to the Weight Watchers office and signed up. Say what you will about Weight Watchers, but that shit works. I felt inspired by Dan for one thing. Another was that I felt like the folks who made out with me at my birthday party, did so out of obligation (because it was my birthday and all.) No one ever truly wants to make out with the fat chick, even though she is the best kisser in the Greater Kansas City Area.
Oddly enough, I'm surprised a certain few still own up to doing it, instead of playing like they are too drunk to remember or be accountable for what they did. You know what they say: getting with a fat chick is like riding a scooter. It's a lot of fun, but you don't want your friends to know about it...
Anyway, I signed up, got my WW stuff and weighed in. I was shocked that I weighed a shit-ton less than I did than my last doctor's visit. See! It's working already!! And...AND...I get to claim it as a deduction next year. Hah!!
Back to the Home Show...
I drove downtown, and the usual spot I park was closed. So, I had to park many, many, many blocks away. Ordinarily, I don't mind walking, but I have something very wrong with my knee and it's all wobbly, and it was butt-ass cold outside.
At any rate, I hot foot it to Bartle, give them my advanced ticket, and I am transported into homeowner heaven (or hell, if that sort of thing is not your idea of fun).
The economy must suck. Free show swag was down to a minimum. The KC Parks booth gave me a free rain gauge so I can also obsess about how much rainfall we get. I got a free tape measure from some stone place. A few ink pens. And that's it. Cheap bastards!
I stopped by the Home Depot display to have a look around, and was accosted by a little, ugly Hispanic dude. After a couple times of him asking, I was able to determine that he wanted to know if I was interested in siding, roofing, gutters, or windows. Well, considering my house already has siding, roof, and gutters, and I do plan on having some new windows put in before the next cold season hits, I answered windows.
He drags me over to three guys standing there, and they ask me questions about my windows. Do I want Home Depot to install them? No...that is what Redneck Brother is going to do to work off his debt to me. Baldy snorts, apparently amused that I'm too cheap to pay for professional installation. I laugh, and Baldy sneers that I think it's funny. He actually says, "Look! She's laughing."
"Actually, my brother worked for Pella installing windows for years. He probably has more experience than some of your employees." I reply. I hear their collective penises shrivel. Pella is sold by Lowes, Home Depot's arch nemesis.
I'm suddenly not interested in Home Depot anymore, so I move on to to another booth. Assholes.
Everyone was selling some sort of new cleaning thing that was supposed to revolutionize the way I clean my house. I wasn't buying. Besides, I already bought all that crap at the last Home Show I attended. I don't know about the revolutionizing part, but nifty new cleaning gadgets have not made me want to clean my house anymore than I did before.
This year, my interest was in gardens and landscaping. They either didn't have many, or I just couldn't find them, but companies who grow simple grass were at a premium. I don't need special landscaping curb installed. I just want green, lush grass. I spotted one lawn care booth, marched up to it, and announced that I wanted grass in my backyard (because right now, my yard consists of dirt and weeds). The toothless guy, who also owns the business, tells me he doesn't service my area. Well, fine. I'll take my money elsewhere.
Because it was also a garden show, a couple companies had entries...little gardens set up for contest. Some go all out. Some, not so much. My favorites are generally the ones with water fountains, pools and ponds. Save for one this year that gave me the willies.
The theme for this entry had something to do with a leisurely day of fishing.WHO THE FUCK THINKS A SUNKEN BOAT MAKES FOR A NICE WATER GARDEN???
I'll be honest. Sinking boats scare me. Not the ginormous cruise ships I like to park my fat ass on once a year. No, I can handle that. I'm talking about little boats like this. Little boats you take your family on for weekends at the lake. When I was six, I once saw a boat sink beside a dock because the assclowns forgot to put the plug in, and that image has stayed with me through the ages. I own a boat, and I have a recurrent nightmare that it will sink. It doesn't even matter if I am on the damn thing. Little boats sinking is one of the few things that scare the hell out of me. My father would be so ashamed if he were alive today. That is how important boating was to my family growing up.
Here is the opposite side of the entry. On the right of the picture, there was a huge cascading water fountain. That was nice. However, my eyes kept darting over to that friggin' boat. One of the employees was standing there, and I told them his sunken boat creeped me out. He just shrugged and said it was the idea of his boss. Having the willies, the only thing that calmed me was the baby ducks that also were part of the entry.Ahhhh...little baby ducks make everything better. They could have been geese, I'm not really sure. But they were small, and cute, and didn't look anything like a sunken boat.I stopped by the pet corner of the show and watched a demo from the Kansas City Disc Dogs. The dogs were pretty cool, and they gave pointers on how to get your dog started on frisbee sport. I think Sam would do well with frisbee. He'll chase after anything I throw at him. This will be my summer project.
Rounding a corner, I spotted something shiny and was immediately transfixed on these shower panels that feature a fixed rain shower head, a handheld shower head, and six body sprays. I called Mr. Recommendation to see if it was a good price (it was a really good price), and because it is exactly what I want for the master bath, I put a deposit down and ordered one.
Heated tile floors, full body shower...when that bathroom is finished, I am NEVER coming out. However, if you would like to use my shower, I would entertain it, for a nominal fee, of course. Unless you are extremely hot and want to shower with me...I'm sure we could reach some sort of arrangement that is mutually beneficial to both parties.I purchased a couple more candles from my most favorite soy candle people in all the world. I also found a handy new grooming brush for Sam and his wild fuzz. I also bought a chunk of summer sausage for Brother (because he *loves* the sausage). My spending didn't go much further than that because I splurged on the shower panel. Four hours after arriving, I called it a day and made the long hike back to my car. Sore knee, cold, depressing weather, and soy candles. A tiring, yet productive, day.
If you have nothing else to do this weekend, and this sort of thing sounds like fun to you, check out the home show. You can also stop by the sunken boat garden entry and tell them that you know a nurse that had to be sedated after seeing their display.
You can also go to the Home Depot booth and kick Baldy in the nuts.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Blogger Meetup: March Edition
Tonight was the meet up. I got to meet many new faces, and visit with some ones I already knew. Various topics: fetish porn, religion, geek-stuff, beer, and whatever I missed going on the other end of the table.
The food was good. The service was good. The company fantastic...as always.
The food was good. The service was good. The company fantastic...as always.
The Grilled Cheese Twins Visit the Dentist
Brother has not seen a dentist in a while. His last visit was such a disaster, he decided not to go back. I can't blame him. If a dentist does a full mouth deep scaling without so much as a numbing gel before, run like hell and don't look back.
Brother has been having issues with his wisdom teeth. He's 28 years old and still has them. After much pain and suffering, he wanted to try the dentist route again. I recommended mine, so I called to make an appointment. They had an opening the exact same time as mine. Great! We could ride together, thereby saving on gas.
Brother goes to his cubby for cleaning, I go to mine for crown replacement prep work. Oh joyous rapture, I get a student hygienist. She is instructed to numb the areas the dentist plans on injecting with anesthetic, and she plants a swab with a generous amount of pineapple flavored goo. A big glob of it falls off the swab and lands in the back of my throat. My throat is now numb and I have zero gag reflex. Sweet!
There is only one instance that this would be a desired result. Now is not that time.
Dentist comes in and gets the largest needle on earth. Now, my dentist has pretty good technique when it comes to those cheek shots. You don't even feel it go in. However, there is no technique that will mask the pain and suffering of an injection directly into the roof of your mouth.
I'll admit it, I whined and cried like a little bitch. I'm convinced that needle ended up in my nose.
Within minutes, the left side of my face was completely numb. Including my nose. My left nostril has competely stopped working.
Some drilling and chiseling ensues and the old crown is finally wrestled free. Sally Student busts out the color chart for my new crown.
Now, back in the day I initially had this crown put in, my teeth were not exactly white. So the crown was yellow-ish. Since then, I have discovered the joys of whitening toothpaste and drinking straws. My natural teeth are so white, people mistake them for bleached. They are the whitest teeth you've ever come across. (Shut up! I've already heard that joke!!)
Sally Student wants to match the crown to the other disgusting yellow-ish crown next to it. I protest. If my other teeth are white, why would I want a yellow tooth? Sally Student doesn't understand this concept. I slowly explain to her, with a drooping left side of my face that I can't feel, that the other crown will be replaced later this year. Reluctantly, she matches to my other teeth, a nice, pristine white.
Replacement tooth is applied and I am told to come back in three weeks for my new crown. Dismissed!
Brother is in the waiting room, and he is sad because he now has to face and oral surgeon for wisdom teeth extraction. At least he didn't leave the office looking like he had a stroke. At one point, I take a drink of iced tea, only to have it run out of the left side of my mouth onto my shirt. Brother thinks this is the most amusing thing he has seen today, and decides to call me Corky.
The numbness lasted all day. At one point, I tried to eat a taco for lunch and was chewing on my top lip...and never realized it. Now, I have a gnawed part on the inside of my lip. So not only do I look like I've had a massive stroke, I also have a fat lip.
Awesome. I love the dentist. My next appointment can't get here fast enough.
Brother has been having issues with his wisdom teeth. He's 28 years old and still has them. After much pain and suffering, he wanted to try the dentist route again. I recommended mine, so I called to make an appointment. They had an opening the exact same time as mine. Great! We could ride together, thereby saving on gas.
Brother goes to his cubby for cleaning, I go to mine for crown replacement prep work. Oh joyous rapture, I get a student hygienist. She is instructed to numb the areas the dentist plans on injecting with anesthetic, and she plants a swab with a generous amount of pineapple flavored goo. A big glob of it falls off the swab and lands in the back of my throat. My throat is now numb and I have zero gag reflex. Sweet!
There is only one instance that this would be a desired result. Now is not that time.
Dentist comes in and gets the largest needle on earth. Now, my dentist has pretty good technique when it comes to those cheek shots. You don't even feel it go in. However, there is no technique that will mask the pain and suffering of an injection directly into the roof of your mouth.
I'll admit it, I whined and cried like a little bitch. I'm convinced that needle ended up in my nose.
Within minutes, the left side of my face was completely numb. Including my nose. My left nostril has competely stopped working.
Some drilling and chiseling ensues and the old crown is finally wrestled free. Sally Student busts out the color chart for my new crown.
Now, back in the day I initially had this crown put in, my teeth were not exactly white. So the crown was yellow-ish. Since then, I have discovered the joys of whitening toothpaste and drinking straws. My natural teeth are so white, people mistake them for bleached. They are the whitest teeth you've ever come across. (Shut up! I've already heard that joke!!)
Sally Student wants to match the crown to the other disgusting yellow-ish crown next to it. I protest. If my other teeth are white, why would I want a yellow tooth? Sally Student doesn't understand this concept. I slowly explain to her, with a drooping left side of my face that I can't feel, that the other crown will be replaced later this year. Reluctantly, she matches to my other teeth, a nice, pristine white.
Replacement tooth is applied and I am told to come back in three weeks for my new crown. Dismissed!
Brother is in the waiting room, and he is sad because he now has to face and oral surgeon for wisdom teeth extraction. At least he didn't leave the office looking like he had a stroke. At one point, I take a drink of iced tea, only to have it run out of the left side of my mouth onto my shirt. Brother thinks this is the most amusing thing he has seen today, and decides to call me Corky.
The numbness lasted all day. At one point, I tried to eat a taco for lunch and was chewing on my top lip...and never realized it. Now, I have a gnawed part on the inside of my lip. So not only do I look like I've had a massive stroke, I also have a fat lip.
Awesome. I love the dentist. My next appointment can't get here fast enough.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
A Night to Remember...I Think
Just to bring everyone up to speed...Friday was my birthday. I am aware that 33 is not a milestone or anything, like turning 21 or turning 40, but I don't usually kick up a big deal about my birthday. My birthday celebrations have been hit or miss, and usually amounts to a quiet dinner, or an extra nap.
When I turned turned 5, we had a big party. I wore a green dress with a picture of Big Bird on the front. My parents hired Rusty the Clown to entertain.
I had a birthday party when I was in the 4th grade. It was a roller skating party, and I invited a handful of friends. My own personal bully at the time demanded to be invited as well, and I caved. Unfortunately, that little olive branch didn't defray any future torment. That sea cow terrorized all through junior high. Dirty crunt.
Being how this is the year of the H-Train (me), I figured that the birthday ought to go with much fanfare. Or a little fanfare at least. I gathered the night shift posse and made a plan. Much of it didn't come together for until the night before.
I had made a dinner reservation for 6pm at a local Japanese restaurant, and predictably, everyone was late. The restaurant workers were not too impressed. Among us were: Tweener, Smo, Indy, Toph, Brother, No-Nickname Friend, B-Ram, Mom, and Mr. Recommendation.
I guess I should mention I was rocking the Apple Bottom jeans. I also went shopping earlier that day and found a cute, spring-like top with a low cut. Not having a bra that I could wear with said shirt, I also found a bra that would accommodate the shirt (and my boobs). Incidentally, the bra happened to be one of those push-up ones. The Girls were, uhhh, extremely noticeable...even from Gardner, Kansas. I know this because Indy could see them from his porch.
Anyway, we sit at our little table, and the guy at the next table keeps staring at me (or rather, my ginormous boobs). It also doesn't help that Mr. Recommendation keeps referring to me (loudly) as "the girl with big tits". Thankfully, the waitress reminds him that they are in a family establishment (I had only said the very same thing five times already), and he cans the big tits talk.
Mr. Recommendation, while nice and good to my mother, is funny only 25% of the time, and not for his lack of trying. His jokes are often met with that awkward silence. If you can't tell a funny joke, don't tell anything. Policy.
Dinner moves along, with the food being pretty good in terms of Japanese steakhouses. At the end of dinner, Mr. Recommendation and Mom announce they have hired a limo to drive us for the night. Of course, I think they are bullshitting me, but apparently, everyone was in on it.
We stop at Price Chopper for some libations as the limo only provides a bag of ice. I stop in the middle of the parking lot for an impromptu booty shake when Tweener turns up the volume on her stereo. Mom spots this and gasps.
Everyone gets back to my house where go we between my house, and Mom's house, until our ride shows up. A white stretch limo. Everyone piles in and we are off to our first stop: The Drop.
While we were there, more people joined us and fun and frivolity. There was my friend Dub, as well as Sader Mama, The Librarian, and Fate. Dub left his car and joined us in the limo while the others met up with us at our last stop: Tootsies.
Say what you will about it being a dive, but they have a good dance floor, play good music, and drunk men are not slobbering all over you. Drunk lesbians seem to exhibit a little more self control and respect, which make for a very low-pressure, hassle-free dance environment. However, I failed to warn Mom about the unisex bathroom, and she got the shock of her life went she needed to go. Oops. My bad.
Now, here is where I can't really go into what happened there with my roving band of birthday celebrators. I guess you just had to be there to be in the know. Sorry!
After a few hours at Tootsies, we decided to wrap things up and go back to my house. Besides, limo guy was charging by the hour. The limo ride back home was entertaining as there were lesbians making out, and Indy was very, very excited about this not-so-new development. We played a little game of "I've Never..." and I got to know my coworkers very, very well.
At home, drunk nurses aplenty!! And they all want breakfast. B-Ram starts singing about wanting pancakes. I don't want to cook pancakes. So, I toss some pre-made bacon in the microwave. Soon, the smell of bacon fills the house. Bacon makes everyone happy. We run out of bacon and I produce real bacon from the fridge. Indy, who has more experience drunk-cooking than anyone of us combined, starts the task of making breakfast. He gets the bacon started, finds my big bag of hash browns in the freezer and dumps the entire contents into the smallest frying pan I own. At this point, he apparently decides that he has made his contribution to breakfast, and just goes into the living room and lies on the floor.
From here, Toph takes over cooking duties and finishes the bacon and the hash browns. I finish the meal by scrambling a buttload of eggs and tossing cheese into the pan.
Breakfast is served! However, everyone else is now passed out in the living room.
Assholes. Next time, I'm just throwing them a box of frozen waffles.
As the morning went on, people come to and drag themselves home. Only two people eat the massive breakfast that has been prepared. Indy doesn't even touch a plate, but decides barfing in the toilet would be a much better option. Good thing Brother cleaned his bathroom before.
All weekend, those who attended have been rehashing the events of Friday night. Somethings come as revelation to those who can't remember. Indy tried to claim he couldn't remember anything about that night until I called bullshit on him. I have his ass nailed, and he knows it. Hee!
A good time had by all. I don't think I will ever celebrate a birthday in the grand fashion that I rung in my 33rd year, but who knows what 34 will bring?
When I turned turned 5, we had a big party. I wore a green dress with a picture of Big Bird on the front. My parents hired Rusty the Clown to entertain.
I had a birthday party when I was in the 4th grade. It was a roller skating party, and I invited a handful of friends. My own personal bully at the time demanded to be invited as well, and I caved. Unfortunately, that little olive branch didn't defray any future torment. That sea cow terrorized all through junior high. Dirty crunt.
Being how this is the year of the H-Train (me), I figured that the birthday ought to go with much fanfare. Or a little fanfare at least. I gathered the night shift posse and made a plan. Much of it didn't come together for until the night before.
I had made a dinner reservation for 6pm at a local Japanese restaurant, and predictably, everyone was late. The restaurant workers were not too impressed. Among us were: Tweener, Smo, Indy, Toph, Brother, No-Nickname Friend, B-Ram, Mom, and Mr. Recommendation.
I guess I should mention I was rocking the Apple Bottom jeans. I also went shopping earlier that day and found a cute, spring-like top with a low cut. Not having a bra that I could wear with said shirt, I also found a bra that would accommodate the shirt (and my boobs). Incidentally, the bra happened to be one of those push-up ones. The Girls were, uhhh, extremely noticeable...even from Gardner, Kansas. I know this because Indy could see them from his porch.
Anyway, we sit at our little table, and the guy at the next table keeps staring at me (or rather, my ginormous boobs). It also doesn't help that Mr. Recommendation keeps referring to me (loudly) as "the girl with big tits". Thankfully, the waitress reminds him that they are in a family establishment (I had only said the very same thing five times already), and he cans the big tits talk.
Mr. Recommendation, while nice and good to my mother, is funny only 25% of the time, and not for his lack of trying. His jokes are often met with that awkward silence. If you can't tell a funny joke, don't tell anything. Policy.
Dinner moves along, with the food being pretty good in terms of Japanese steakhouses. At the end of dinner, Mr. Recommendation and Mom announce they have hired a limo to drive us for the night. Of course, I think they are bullshitting me, but apparently, everyone was in on it.
We stop at Price Chopper for some libations as the limo only provides a bag of ice. I stop in the middle of the parking lot for an impromptu booty shake when Tweener turns up the volume on her stereo. Mom spots this and gasps.
Everyone gets back to my house where go we between my house, and Mom's house, until our ride shows up. A white stretch limo. Everyone piles in and we are off to our first stop: The Drop.
While we were there, more people joined us and fun and frivolity. There was my friend Dub, as well as Sader Mama, The Librarian, and Fate. Dub left his car and joined us in the limo while the others met up with us at our last stop: Tootsies.
Say what you will about it being a dive, but they have a good dance floor, play good music, and drunk men are not slobbering all over you. Drunk lesbians seem to exhibit a little more self control and respect, which make for a very low-pressure, hassle-free dance environment. However, I failed to warn Mom about the unisex bathroom, and she got the shock of her life went she needed to go. Oops. My bad.
Now, here is where I can't really go into what happened there with my roving band of birthday celebrators. I guess you just had to be there to be in the know. Sorry!
After a few hours at Tootsies, we decided to wrap things up and go back to my house. Besides, limo guy was charging by the hour. The limo ride back home was entertaining as there were lesbians making out, and Indy was very, very excited about this not-so-new development. We played a little game of "I've Never..." and I got to know my coworkers very, very well.
At home, drunk nurses aplenty!! And they all want breakfast. B-Ram starts singing about wanting pancakes. I don't want to cook pancakes. So, I toss some pre-made bacon in the microwave. Soon, the smell of bacon fills the house. Bacon makes everyone happy. We run out of bacon and I produce real bacon from the fridge. Indy, who has more experience drunk-cooking than anyone of us combined, starts the task of making breakfast. He gets the bacon started, finds my big bag of hash browns in the freezer and dumps the entire contents into the smallest frying pan I own. At this point, he apparently decides that he has made his contribution to breakfast, and just goes into the living room and lies on the floor.
From here, Toph takes over cooking duties and finishes the bacon and the hash browns. I finish the meal by scrambling a buttload of eggs and tossing cheese into the pan.
Breakfast is served! However, everyone else is now passed out in the living room.
Assholes. Next time, I'm just throwing them a box of frozen waffles.
As the morning went on, people come to and drag themselves home. Only two people eat the massive breakfast that has been prepared. Indy doesn't even touch a plate, but decides barfing in the toilet would be a much better option. Good thing Brother cleaned his bathroom before.
All weekend, those who attended have been rehashing the events of Friday night. Somethings come as revelation to those who can't remember. Indy tried to claim he couldn't remember anything about that night until I called bullshit on him. I have his ass nailed, and he knows it. Hee!
A good time had by all. I don't think I will ever celebrate a birthday in the grand fashion that I rung in my 33rd year, but who knows what 34 will bring?
Your PSA for the Month
If you decide you don't want to date someone (for whatever reason), please do not offer the crappy excuses, "I don't want to date anyone" or "I don't want to be in a relationship right now." Especially if you are going to turn around and start dating someone else and not make a secret of it.
This does two things. It hurts the feelings of whomever you dumped in the first place. Secondly, it just pisses them off because:
A. You have just demonstrated that you are a lying douche bag.
~and~
B. You have insulted the intelligence of the person you dumped. Which only illustrates that you are not only a douchebag, but a dumbass besides.
A lying, douche nozzle of a dumbass. While you may have done the dumpee a favor and demonstrated that you are really not worth pigeon shit, you have still wasted the time of someone who could have been the most awesome person you will ever know. And while the dumpee may not spend any time crying over you, they will hope your tiny, unremarkable penis catches a yet unidentifiable STD and it drains green sewage, turns black and falls off.
In conclusion, just be honest. Honesty, while painful at times, is always the best policy.
Until you jerks can learn this lesson...you can kiss the fattest part of my ass. And the asses of the other girls you've done this to.
Have a nice day!!
This does two things. It hurts the feelings of whomever you dumped in the first place. Secondly, it just pisses them off because:
A. You have just demonstrated that you are a lying douche bag.
~and~
B. You have insulted the intelligence of the person you dumped. Which only illustrates that you are not only a douchebag, but a dumbass besides.
A lying, douche nozzle of a dumbass. While you may have done the dumpee a favor and demonstrated that you are really not worth pigeon shit, you have still wasted the time of someone who could have been the most awesome person you will ever know. And while the dumpee may not spend any time crying over you, they will hope your tiny, unremarkable penis catches a yet unidentifiable STD and it drains green sewage, turns black and falls off.
In conclusion, just be honest. Honesty, while painful at times, is always the best policy.
Until you jerks can learn this lesson...you can kiss the fattest part of my ass. And the asses of the other girls you've done this to.
Have a nice day!!
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Birthday Aftermath
I'll post some of my birthday festivities later.
But I will say that there's going to be some nurses at work tonight who are going to be hurting. Bad.
But I will say that there's going to be some nurses at work tonight who are going to be hurting. Bad.
Friday, March 21, 2008
33! 33! 33! 33!
Thirty-three years and nine months ago, I was conceived on the banks of some little river in Kansas over a 4th of July holiday. When my parents weren't shagging in their tent, Dad fished while Mom passed the time blowing up frogs with little firecrackers.On the day of my big debut, Mom had a bad sunburn, and I had partially formed hip-joints which landed me in a big plaster cast for the first 6 months of my life. Followed by a year or so in a lower body brace.
Because of that, I can now put both feet behind my head. I'm not sure when this will come in handy, but there is a reason for all things.
Tonight is my birthday festivities. Fun and frivolity will ensue. Some folks will be lucky enough to get late night phone calls. As in me calling and singing happy birthday to you.
So charge up your phones and consider yourselves warned.
Friday's Feast: Birthday Edition
Appetizer
Given the choice, would you prefer to live in the country or in the city?
After my adventure in Podunk earlier this week, I'm going to go with city.
Soup
Who is the cutest kid you know?
My niece, Peanut. And she knows it.
Salad
Fill in the blank: I couldn't believe it when I heard ___________.
I don't believe anything anyone tells me...
Main Course
If you could star in a commercial for one of your favorite products, which one would you want to advertise?
Astroglide. Not because it's my favorite product, but because it would be funny to star in an Astroglide commercial. Of course, I would want creative liberty.
Dessert
What type(s) of vitamins and/or supplements do you take on a regular basis?
Flintstones vitamins...but only Pebbles or Dino. And only orange or cherry. Grape sucks.
Given the choice, would you prefer to live in the country or in the city?
After my adventure in Podunk earlier this week, I'm going to go with city.
Soup
Who is the cutest kid you know?
My niece, Peanut. And she knows it.
Salad
Fill in the blank: I couldn't believe it when I heard ___________.
I don't believe anything anyone tells me...
Main Course
If you could star in a commercial for one of your favorite products, which one would you want to advertise?
Astroglide. Not because it's my favorite product, but because it would be funny to star in an Astroglide commercial. Of course, I would want creative liberty.
Dessert
What type(s) of vitamins and/or supplements do you take on a regular basis?
Flintstones vitamins...but only Pebbles or Dino. And only orange or cherry. Grape sucks.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Updates on Toilet Lady
The boyfriend of Toilet Lady will be charged for letting her homestead on the toilet for an unnatural amount of time. He says maybe two years, smart folks estimate at least a month. Either way, that's too much time to be riding the porcelain bus.
The dude has to be mentally retarded. He just has to be.
She's still in the hospital, and according to reports, she may spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair due to nerve damage.
Meanwhile, coworkers and myself wait in fear of the word that she is going to be transferred to us. Mostly because other hospitals like to dump their crappiest patients onto my facility. Having a good rep for handling the toughest cases can be a double-edged sword.
On a side note, how funny (and ironic) is it that the sheriff's last name is Whipple??
The dude has to be mentally retarded. He just has to be.
She's still in the hospital, and according to reports, she may spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair due to nerve damage.
Meanwhile, coworkers and myself wait in fear of the word that she is going to be transferred to us. Mostly because other hospitals like to dump their crappiest patients onto my facility. Having a good rep for handling the toughest cases can be a double-edged sword.
On a side note, how funny (and ironic) is it that the sheriff's last name is Whipple??
Not Good
Last night, I was feeling a little off in the belly. It could have been what I had for lunch, or what I had for dinner. As the night progressed, I felt worse. I'd get all bloated and then release a belch that would make Homer Simpson proud.
Sadly, Brother was at work, and did not witness some of those record-breaking belches. He would have been impressed.
My sleep was uneasy as when I began to feel uncomfortable, I'd have to get up and burp. Sort of like pushing the release valve when pressure gets too high.
I thought that maybe if I could throw up whatever was in my stomach, I would feel better. I never could make myself throw up. I'd do poorly as a bulimic.
Today, I'm not getting the pressure buildup, but my stomach hurts, and I feel lousy.
I'm scheduled to work tonight, but I really, really don't want to call in.
What are the chances I would get sick before my birthday? Well, with my luck, I'd say pretty good.
Here's hoping it's a 24 hour thing...
Sadly, Brother was at work, and did not witness some of those record-breaking belches. He would have been impressed.
My sleep was uneasy as when I began to feel uncomfortable, I'd have to get up and burp. Sort of like pushing the release valve when pressure gets too high.
I thought that maybe if I could throw up whatever was in my stomach, I would feel better. I never could make myself throw up. I'd do poorly as a bulimic.
Today, I'm not getting the pressure buildup, but my stomach hurts, and I feel lousy.
I'm scheduled to work tonight, but I really, really don't want to call in.
What are the chances I would get sick before my birthday? Well, with my luck, I'd say pretty good.
Here's hoping it's a 24 hour thing...
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
The Grilled Cheese Twins
When I was a young, pup, my very first job was working at a place that sat right on Pony Express Lake. On one side, you could buy fishing license, bait, various other fishing items, and even rent a little aluminum boat. On the other side, there was a short order grill. That's where I worked.
We typically saw the standard fishermen. Sometimes when they did their big geese round-up, we saw droves of conservation agents. On Sundays, we saw the Senior crowd. They had no interest in fish, nor geese. But they did like the food. And in that area, places to eat were few and far between, unless you wanted to drive to Cameron or St. Joe.
With time, I got to know the Sunday regulars. For the old part, nice old people who said I reminded them of their granddaughters. All of them.
Regardless of how well they liked me, they still tipped like shit. Fixed incomes, I guess.
There was one couple, who always came in on Sundays. They were so odd, the waitresses would always bicker over who had to wait on them. They were an old couple. Brother and sister. And they always came together. One of the waitresses, Mary, dubbed them the Grilled Cheese Twins because that is what they ordered. Every. Single. Sunday.
They also ordered the iced tea, and put a bunch of sugar in it. Then, they'd pour powdered coffee creamer into the glasses. For those of you not familiar with powdered coffee creamer, it only dissolves fully in hot beverages, like coffee. In iced tea, coffee creamer just sort of clumps up and floats to the surface.
The first time they did it, we thought they had just mistaken the creamer for the sugar. But they liked to drink it this way.
Mary was convinced their parents were related.
Why is this story important? Well, as I was sitting in the dentist chair today, and Brother in another chair in a couple cubbies down, I thought about The Grilled Cheese Twins (who have probably died by now). I thought about how now, Brother and I sometimes do things together.
Even though our parents were not related, and we don't put coffee creamer in our iced tea, we are the new Grilled Cheese Twins. And from now on, our adventures together will be chronicled as such.
Enjoy.
We typically saw the standard fishermen. Sometimes when they did their big geese round-up, we saw droves of conservation agents. On Sundays, we saw the Senior crowd. They had no interest in fish, nor geese. But they did like the food. And in that area, places to eat were few and far between, unless you wanted to drive to Cameron or St. Joe.
With time, I got to know the Sunday regulars. For the old part, nice old people who said I reminded them of their granddaughters. All of them.
Regardless of how well they liked me, they still tipped like shit. Fixed incomes, I guess.
There was one couple, who always came in on Sundays. They were so odd, the waitresses would always bicker over who had to wait on them. They were an old couple. Brother and sister. And they always came together. One of the waitresses, Mary, dubbed them the Grilled Cheese Twins because that is what they ordered. Every. Single. Sunday.
They also ordered the iced tea, and put a bunch of sugar in it. Then, they'd pour powdered coffee creamer into the glasses. For those of you not familiar with powdered coffee creamer, it only dissolves fully in hot beverages, like coffee. In iced tea, coffee creamer just sort of clumps up and floats to the surface.
The first time they did it, we thought they had just mistaken the creamer for the sugar. But they liked to drink it this way.Mary was convinced their parents were related.
Why is this story important? Well, as I was sitting in the dentist chair today, and Brother in another chair in a couple cubbies down, I thought about The Grilled Cheese Twins (who have probably died by now). I thought about how now, Brother and I sometimes do things together.
Even though our parents were not related, and we don't put coffee creamer in our iced tea, we are the new Grilled Cheese Twins. And from now on, our adventures together will be chronicled as such.
Enjoy.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Odor of the Court
This morning, I had to leave work a little early so I could drive Brother up to some podunk Missouri town for court. It was some sort of piddly little traffic thing like driving with your head stuck up your ass. What would constitute piddly little traffic thing here in the big city where we enjoy such luxuries as indoor plumbing, electricity, and soap, is a big deal in the land where the hot topic at the local watering hole is whether or not the current hybrid corn is the new pink.
As I was exhausted, I let Brother drive the car and I rode shotgun. Whenever I ride with him, I am reminded at how not a good driver he is. He's the kind who drives so close behind people, he's practically masturbating in their back seat. And he waits until he's two inches away from a bumper before he comes to a complete stop. This is probably why the brakes on Oprah are decimated. From overuse.
I've yelled at him for being a botard behind the wheel, but he tries to blame the other person. Damn them for coming to a complete stop at a stop sign! Bastards!! He tried the argument that he was a better driver than me because he hasn't been in any car accidents, compared to my two. Until I asked him to remind me why we were taking this field trip in the first place.
Thankfully, I slept for the majority of the trip, rendering me blissfully ignorant of how many times I almost met the business end of a passenger side airbag. Again.
We get to Gallatin, and the roads haven't seen fresh pavement since the 60's. So bad, that my car now needs an alignment.
We drive to the town square where the courthouse is, and I am reminded why I hate small towns like this so much. Everything has slowed to a crawl, and is behind by ten years. Naturally, every other person drives a yank tank (pick-up truck) with a gun rack in the rear window, and you are not a serious contender unless you have a hay spear welded onto your truck bed. There's the local watering hole, a corner cafe (guaranteed to employ a lifelong waitress named Joy...or Twila), the mandatory Dollar General, and a dozen farming equipment and feed stores.
In towns like these, the mullets are not just a hair style. They are a way of life.
Brother has retained a lawyer who used to live down the street from us when we were kids. He used to race up and down the street in a little Fiat or some other little clown car. Now, he's a lawyer. He told Brother that the judge is a dick, and having a lawyer may not do him much good. But for $500, he will stand up with him in court anyway.
As what? A decoration?? Is he going to hold his hand??? I told Brother that if he gave me the $500, I would stand next to him in court also. I'd even hold his cell phone while they did the full cavity search. Some people would charge extra for that, but I'm willing to cut him a break because he's family.
The courthouse, which I am sure was built in the 1800's, has three stories. The court room being on the 3rd floor. Inside, a big room with creaky wooden chairs, big railing separating the judge from everyone else. One area, guests of the county (i.e. prisoners), were sitting in their matching orange jumpsuits, hands shackled to their bodies, and leg irons. Both men and women. Non-incarcerated folk are peppered throughout the room.
And everyone looks like they are related.
Aside from the feeling that I just stepped into a time warp and landed in 1912...in Arkansas, the next thing I notice is the smell. Coming from, well, everyone else. You know the economy has hit hard when soap has to be sacrificed for life-sustaining items...food, gas, and Garth Brooks cds. I was reminded of the last time I had to sit through court and had to endure bad smelling people.
Judge Dick goes through the docket, and the item dujour is driving without a license or insurance. The second popular offense is drugs. One guy asked if he paid the restitution, could he just be released? Judge Dick: "Absolutely....NOT. You can't buy your way out of my courtroom."
Judge Dick had some snappy, smartass one-liners, and I could kind of understand why he was such an asshole. If I had to sit in a room with a bunch of assclowns that hadn't touched a bar of soap since Bill Clinton was in office, I'd be pretty hostile, too. Somewhere, there is a judge in a state-of-the-art court room overseeing cases with teeth, that make headlines and eventually land you your own television show. Judge Dick gets to sit in a building that was standing when Joseph Smith and his folks rolled through town, and gets to figure out what to do with the guy who bounced checks at the local Piggly Wiggly.
At one point, a very pregnant lady goes before Judge Dick because she has an outstanding warrant dating back from 2002 that she had no clue about. Judge Dick catches her in a couple lies.
"As you can see with my condition," the woman says, "I am not capable of spending time in jail."
"Oh you most certainly can!" Judge Dick almost sings. I wonder if he practices his delivery at home. In front of a mirror. Naked.
Another thing that always makes me smile, is when stupid people try to sound smart. I've decided that courtrooms are the best place to see this in play. Hospitals come in a close second.
As for Brother? He got a continuance because Sensitive Lawyer Asshat had to haul ass to another court thing in another podunk town with a smelly courtroom. So, next month I get to drive him there...again.
I'll try to remember to take the camera.
As I was exhausted, I let Brother drive the car and I rode shotgun. Whenever I ride with him, I am reminded at how not a good driver he is. He's the kind who drives so close behind people, he's practically masturbating in their back seat. And he waits until he's two inches away from a bumper before he comes to a complete stop. This is probably why the brakes on Oprah are decimated. From overuse.
I've yelled at him for being a botard behind the wheel, but he tries to blame the other person. Damn them for coming to a complete stop at a stop sign! Bastards!! He tried the argument that he was a better driver than me because he hasn't been in any car accidents, compared to my two. Until I asked him to remind me why we were taking this field trip in the first place.
Thankfully, I slept for the majority of the trip, rendering me blissfully ignorant of how many times I almost met the business end of a passenger side airbag. Again.
We get to Gallatin, and the roads haven't seen fresh pavement since the 60's. So bad, that my car now needs an alignment.
We drive to the town square where the courthouse is, and I am reminded why I hate small towns like this so much. Everything has slowed to a crawl, and is behind by ten years. Naturally, every other person drives a yank tank (pick-up truck) with a gun rack in the rear window, and you are not a serious contender unless you have a hay spear welded onto your truck bed. There's the local watering hole, a corner cafe (guaranteed to employ a lifelong waitress named Joy...or Twila), the mandatory Dollar General, and a dozen farming equipment and feed stores.
In towns like these, the mullets are not just a hair style. They are a way of life.
Brother has retained a lawyer who used to live down the street from us when we were kids. He used to race up and down the street in a little Fiat or some other little clown car. Now, he's a lawyer. He told Brother that the judge is a dick, and having a lawyer may not do him much good. But for $500, he will stand up with him in court anyway.
As what? A decoration?? Is he going to hold his hand??? I told Brother that if he gave me the $500, I would stand next to him in court also. I'd even hold his cell phone while they did the full cavity search. Some people would charge extra for that, but I'm willing to cut him a break because he's family.
The courthouse, which I am sure was built in the 1800's, has three stories. The court room being on the 3rd floor. Inside, a big room with creaky wooden chairs, big railing separating the judge from everyone else. One area, guests of the county (i.e. prisoners), were sitting in their matching orange jumpsuits, hands shackled to their bodies, and leg irons. Both men and women. Non-incarcerated folk are peppered throughout the room.
And everyone looks like they are related.
Aside from the feeling that I just stepped into a time warp and landed in 1912...in Arkansas, the next thing I notice is the smell. Coming from, well, everyone else. You know the economy has hit hard when soap has to be sacrificed for life-sustaining items...food, gas, and Garth Brooks cds. I was reminded of the last time I had to sit through court and had to endure bad smelling people.
Judge Dick goes through the docket, and the item dujour is driving without a license or insurance. The second popular offense is drugs. One guy asked if he paid the restitution, could he just be released? Judge Dick: "Absolutely....NOT. You can't buy your way out of my courtroom."
Judge Dick had some snappy, smartass one-liners, and I could kind of understand why he was such an asshole. If I had to sit in a room with a bunch of assclowns that hadn't touched a bar of soap since Bill Clinton was in office, I'd be pretty hostile, too. Somewhere, there is a judge in a state-of-the-art court room overseeing cases with teeth, that make headlines and eventually land you your own television show. Judge Dick gets to sit in a building that was standing when Joseph Smith and his folks rolled through town, and gets to figure out what to do with the guy who bounced checks at the local Piggly Wiggly.
At one point, a very pregnant lady goes before Judge Dick because she has an outstanding warrant dating back from 2002 that she had no clue about. Judge Dick catches her in a couple lies.
"As you can see with my condition," the woman says, "I am not capable of spending time in jail."
"Oh you most certainly can!" Judge Dick almost sings. I wonder if he practices his delivery at home. In front of a mirror. Naked.
Another thing that always makes me smile, is when stupid people try to sound smart. I've decided that courtrooms are the best place to see this in play. Hospitals come in a close second.
As for Brother? He got a continuance because Sensitive Lawyer Asshat had to haul ass to another court thing in another podunk town with a smelly courtroom. So, next month I get to drive him there...again.
I'll try to remember to take the camera.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Friday's Feast
Appetizer
On a scale of 1-10 (with 10 as highest), how much do you like your own handwriting?
On a scale...I think 9. Everyone else who sees my handwriting would give it a 12.
Soup
Do you prefer baths or showers?
Showers in a hurry, but I love hot bubble baths. If it's a jacuzzi tub, added bonus.
Salad
What was the last bad movie you watched?
Bad movies...I try to avoid them.
Main Course
Name something you are addicted to and describe how it affects your life.
I'm addicted to blogging. My computer is on it's last leg, and I live in fear of the day it finally croaks.
Dessert
Which instrument is your favorite to listen to?
Cello
On a scale of 1-10 (with 10 as highest), how much do you like your own handwriting?
On a scale...I think 9. Everyone else who sees my handwriting would give it a 12.
Soup
Do you prefer baths or showers?
Showers in a hurry, but I love hot bubble baths. If it's a jacuzzi tub, added bonus.
Salad
What was the last bad movie you watched?
Bad movies...I try to avoid them.
Main Course
Name something you are addicted to and describe how it affects your life.
I'm addicted to blogging. My computer is on it's last leg, and I live in fear of the day it finally croaks.
Dessert
Which instrument is your favorite to listen to?
Cello
Thursday, March 13, 2008
More About Toilet Lady
Boyfriend says that girlfriend walked around the house at night, that she really wasn't on the toilet for two years straight. I'm going to call bullshit on this one because it's hard to walk if you have a toilet growing out of your ass.
I'm amazed at the national coverage this story is getting. How would you like to be the girlfriend?? Hell, I'd be embarrassed to live in the same town. I can only imagine vacations being rained on because someone, in idle conversation, asked you where you were from.
Friendly Person: Is the weather bad where you are from?
Ness City Resident: Oh yes...very cold. I'm glad to be somewhere warmer.
FP: Where are you from?
NCP: Kansas
FP: Kansas! Really? What part?
The same area Dorothy lived?
NCP: (chuckle)A little town called Ness City.
FP: Ness City....hmmm. Hey!! Isn't that where that lady sat on a toilet for two years??
NCP: Ummm...yeah.
FP: Wow!! Did you know her???
NCP: Uhhh (lies because everyone knows everyone else in small towns) Not really. I think I'm going to go back to my hotel room now.
The news is showing pictures of the house where said toilet lady lived. It was a trailer. Brother saw it on this evening's news and began to cheer.
"That makes the story 1000 times better!"
I'm amazed at the national coverage this story is getting. How would you like to be the girlfriend?? Hell, I'd be embarrassed to live in the same town. I can only imagine vacations being rained on because someone, in idle conversation, asked you where you were from.
Friendly Person: Is the weather bad where you are from?
Ness City Resident: Oh yes...very cold. I'm glad to be somewhere warmer.
FP: Where are you from?
NCP: Kansas
FP: Kansas! Really? What part?
The same area Dorothy lived?NCP: (chuckle)A little town called Ness City.
FP: Ness City....hmmm. Hey!! Isn't that where that lady sat on a toilet for two years??
NCP: Ummm...yeah.
FP: Wow!! Did you know her???
NCP: Uhhh (lies because everyone knows everyone else in small towns) Not really. I think I'm going to go back to my hotel room now.
The news is showing pictures of the house where said toilet lady lived. It was a trailer. Brother saw it on this evening's news and began to cheer.
"That makes the story 1000 times better!"
Apple Bottom Jeans and the Boots With the Furrrr
Yesterday, my friend (of whom I'm still trying to think of a nickname for) and Mom went on a little shopping excursion. Mom needed to find something for Peanut for her birthday, and I needed to find something to wear on my birthday.In spite of what Nightmare would tell you, clothing is mandatory for my birthday.
We went to Ward Parkway Mall (the one where the shooting occurred), but first stopping by Chik-fil-A for sammiches before. Mom and No-Nick-Named-Friend had never had Chik-fil-A before. Those two are deprived.
Anyhoo, we went into this store that sells urban-wear, and I selected two pair of Apple Bottom jeans. Both pair fit great except for the legs being too long (which is a problem I usually have with pants). I bought both pair after the sales girl told me they were on sale
Yes, I have an apple butt. It stems all the way back to my early 20's when Kant's sister deemed that my butt had an apple shape (we were comparing butts at the time). Fast forward to a couple years ago when I had dinner with some girls I work with (who are also BFFs). No-Nick-Name-Friend happens to be behind me on the stairwell and makes a big deal about my apple butt (because the scrubs I wear hide my generously shaped backside). She makes such a big stink, the homeless guy at the bottom of the stairs cranes his head to take a look.
So, I'm well aware of my apple bottom. Lilly White Cracker's got an apple bottom. I've learned to live with it. You make best with what you have, which is why I bought Apple Bottom Jeans. Two pair, in fact.
But now I have to find someone to alter them before next Friday. I called a dry cleaner not far from my house, and some oriental dude answered the phone. Yes, they do alterations. Yay for me. I'll be taking them in this afternoon.
Call me Shawty.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Taking the Browns to the Superbowl and Other Hump Day Blather
So today I had a lunch date of sorts. We went to City Market and ate at Cascone's...Grill. When he mentioned Cascone's, I was thinking of Italian restaurant. This place...somewhat Italian, but with a mish-mash of other stuff. I'll be posting a review of the restaurant on Yelp.
After lunch, we walked around City Market, he buying produce and me buying some fresh pita bread. I mentioned that I wanted to stop by Baby Cakes to buy some cupcakes to take home for the fam, but I wasn't really sure where it was, other than it was at City Market.
So, we drove around for a while, finally finding it and realized that I had driven right past it at one point. Inside smelled heavenly.
While we were in there, and I was wrestling over which cupcakes to buy, some fruity guy came walking in to ask us if we were from Wichita, and did we see that story on the news about the lady who was taken to the hospital? Yeah, I read that story this morning. I knew all about it. But he goes on to regale the others with this tale. Bakery lady listens with abject horror. My date busts out laughing. I have no reaction. Stupid people seldom surprise me anymore.
Date apologizes for laughing (he doesn't care for stupid people either), and Bakery Lady says that it's okay. She was more curious about my reaction. I shrug.
"I'm a nurse. I once saw someone who had to be extracted from their car with the Jaws of Life because they were too fat to get out. Nothing shocks me anymore."
However, I do have a couple concerns with the story as I have read it on the news...
If this had happened in Russia, more than one family would have been without a toilet. This might have started a riot, especially with all the borscht they eat.
Even more disturbing is that she is only two years older than me, and she has a boyfriend. A boyfriend who sticks by her for two years while she is trying to meld into one with her toilet seat (and apparently succeeded). She has a boyfriend, and I'm still going through a serious man-drought.
I am depressed. I think I will go eat a cupcake and sit on the toilet. Perhaps then, my prince will then come.
After lunch, we walked around City Market, he buying produce and me buying some fresh pita bread. I mentioned that I wanted to stop by Baby Cakes to buy some cupcakes to take home for the fam, but I wasn't really sure where it was, other than it was at City Market.
So, we drove around for a while, finally finding it and realized that I had driven right past it at one point. Inside smelled heavenly.
While we were in there, and I was wrestling over which cupcakes to buy, some fruity guy came walking in to ask us if we were from Wichita, and did we see that story on the news about the lady who was taken to the hospital? Yeah, I read that story this morning. I knew all about it. But he goes on to regale the others with this tale. Bakery lady listens with abject horror. My date busts out laughing. I have no reaction. Stupid people seldom surprise me anymore.
Date apologizes for laughing (he doesn't care for stupid people either), and Bakery Lady says that it's okay. She was more curious about my reaction. I shrug.
"I'm a nurse. I once saw someone who had to be extracted from their car with the Jaws of Life because they were too fat to get out. Nothing shocks me anymore."
However, I do have a couple concerns with the story as I have read it on the news...
Ness County Sheriff Bryan Whipple said a man called his office last month toHe suddenly calls, two years after her sitting on the toilet, claiming something is wrong?? What could it have been??? Oh, maybe, that she was permanently attached to the toilet? Did he just notice???? He had been taking her food and water while she was homesteading on said porcelain throne. Sadly, there are no pictures available.
report that something was wrong with his girlfriend.
If this had happened in Russia, more than one family would have been without a toilet. This might have started a riot, especially with all the borscht they eat.
Even more disturbing is that she is only two years older than me, and she has a boyfriend. A boyfriend who sticks by her for two years while she is trying to meld into one with her toilet seat (and apparently succeeded). She has a boyfriend, and I'm still going through a serious man-drought.
I am depressed. I think I will go eat a cupcake and sit on the toilet. Perhaps then, my prince will then come.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Mememememe
Kant did this meme. I'm not a good blogger for the fact that I don't do every single meme that I'm tagged to do. Because I'm in a blogging dry spot, I figured I could do this until I feel inspired to write something else.
20 Years Ago
1. I was 13, living in Cameron, Missouri. It was a little town that wanted to be a big city when it grew up.
2. I gave up playing the french horn and started playing the drums. I did much better and mom was relieved that she didn't have a french horn in her house. However, my constant tapping on anything with butter knives got to be annoying.
3. It was my last year in junior high before entering, gasp, high school.
4. I had yet to have a growth spurt since the 4th grade so I was the shortest, smallest person in my class. This made me prime target for bullies.
10 Years Ago
1. 23 years old...living here in KC. Doing the Mormon thing in the Singles Branch. I may have been activities coordinator at the time.
2. Working as a nurse tech at a prominent Johnson County hospital on an orthopedics floor.
3. I drove an 88 Mercury Cougar, back when the Cougars were cool and before Ford fixed what wasn't broken and ruined it.
4. Madly in love with Matt, only he doesn't know it. Everyone else does.
5 Years Ago
1. 28 years old and halfway through nursing school.
2. In a serious relationship...with Starbucks. My nursing school friend, Trish, introduced us.
3. I'm driving a 1990 Ford F-150 named Oprah. Guys flirt with me on the highway because I look hot handling that kind of horsepower.
4. I'm gearing up for my reconstructive knee surgery, needed because of an old sports injury from high school. Damn hurdles.
1 Year Ago
1. Settling into my newly purchased home. Woohoo!
2. Working weekends at a big KC hospital as an RN. I kick butt and take names.
3. I'm in the process of cultivating a relationship that will ultimately go nowhere and leave me sad. (To this day, he still doesn't understand why I was so upset with him.)
4. I went on a cruise with aforementioned He Who Shall Not Be Named. Nothing happened. It was depressing. More then ten people were disappointed.
This Year
1. Planning my next Caribbean adventure, but for the fall.
2. Forget tomatoes. This year, my goal is to grow a lawn.
3. Exploring options to continue my education. Bachelors in nursing, masters in something that's not nursing.
4. Will be my 15 year high school reunion. Not too excited to go. Still trying to figure out why I should.
Yesterday
1. Slept in.
2. Drove North of the River to run some errands.
3. Looked for something to wear on my birthday. I didn't find anything.
4. Suspected someone is lying to me. I'm more than annoyed.
Tomorrow
1. I have a lunch date. With a boy. I'm not overly excited about it.
2. Meeting with one of my BFFs later that evening to help me shop for something to wear on my birthday. She's more excited about my date than I am.
3. Take Sam to the groomer for a bath. He's gross.
4. Go to Mom's and rescue my vacuum cleaner.
20 Years Ago
1. I was 13, living in Cameron, Missouri. It was a little town that wanted to be a big city when it grew up.
2. I gave up playing the french horn and started playing the drums. I did much better and mom was relieved that she didn't have a french horn in her house. However, my constant tapping on anything with butter knives got to be annoying.
3. It was my last year in junior high before entering, gasp, high school.
4. I had yet to have a growth spurt since the 4th grade so I was the shortest, smallest person in my class. This made me prime target for bullies.
10 Years Ago
1. 23 years old...living here in KC. Doing the Mormon thing in the Singles Branch. I may have been activities coordinator at the time.
2. Working as a nurse tech at a prominent Johnson County hospital on an orthopedics floor.
3. I drove an 88 Mercury Cougar, back when the Cougars were cool and before Ford fixed what wasn't broken and ruined it.
4. Madly in love with Matt, only he doesn't know it. Everyone else does.
5 Years Ago
1. 28 years old and halfway through nursing school.
2. In a serious relationship...with Starbucks. My nursing school friend, Trish, introduced us.
3. I'm driving a 1990 Ford F-150 named Oprah. Guys flirt with me on the highway because I look hot handling that kind of horsepower.
4. I'm gearing up for my reconstructive knee surgery, needed because of an old sports injury from high school. Damn hurdles.
1 Year Ago
1. Settling into my newly purchased home. Woohoo!
2. Working weekends at a big KC hospital as an RN. I kick butt and take names.
3. I'm in the process of cultivating a relationship that will ultimately go nowhere and leave me sad. (To this day, he still doesn't understand why I was so upset with him.)
4. I went on a cruise with aforementioned He Who Shall Not Be Named. Nothing happened. It was depressing. More then ten people were disappointed.
This Year
1. Planning my next Caribbean adventure, but for the fall.
2. Forget tomatoes. This year, my goal is to grow a lawn.
3. Exploring options to continue my education. Bachelors in nursing, masters in something that's not nursing.
4. Will be my 15 year high school reunion. Not too excited to go. Still trying to figure out why I should.
Yesterday
1. Slept in.
2. Drove North of the River to run some errands.
3. Looked for something to wear on my birthday. I didn't find anything.
4. Suspected someone is lying to me. I'm more than annoyed.
Tomorrow
1. I have a lunch date. With a boy. I'm not overly excited about it.
2. Meeting with one of my BFFs later that evening to help me shop for something to wear on my birthday. She's more excited about my date than I am.
3. Take Sam to the groomer for a bath. He's gross.
4. Go to Mom's and rescue my vacuum cleaner.
Huh?
Madonna scored a place in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
When was she ever a rock star???
Sure, she's cranked out tunes through the ages. Sure, she looks good for an 80 year old. But I was always under the impression that she was a Pop star.
I think the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has officially jumped the shark.
When was she ever a rock star???
Sure, she's cranked out tunes through the ages. Sure, she looks good for an 80 year old. But I was always under the impression that she was a Pop star.
I think the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has officially jumped the shark.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Monday's Musings
Ever been so tired that you can't fall asleep, but struggle to stay awake? That was me all weekend. I'd finally fall asleep, but wake up no more than two hours later.
All. Weekend. Long.
In my sleep-deprived delirium, I thought I saw a big brown spider hovering over the bed while I was laying in it. I swatted the air a couple times to catch the web, but to no avail. Thinking I saw the spider duck behind the head board, I popped up on my hands and knees and groped around the head board, hoping to...oh hell, I don't know what I was hoping to do. I fell back into bed and came to the realization that had just hallucinated a spider, and I was closer to that point where all nurses lose their marbles.
I'm glad no one was there to see my antics. Had Brother peered in my room at that given time and seen me swatting air and patting my headboard, I'm sure he would have gone straight to Mom and announced I had officially lost my shit.
Thank God I don't sleep walk anymore...
**********************
I have a ginormous bruise on my arm courtesy of Brother. He passed me going to Mom's house and gave me a little love tap on my arm. The next day, I had a hard knot on my upper arm, now I have a big, ugly purple bruise.
Everyone at work now thinks I do things during my off time that would warrant my own pay per view channel.
If Brother didn't shave his head, I'd put Nair in his shampoo. I'm going to have to think of some other way of getting even.
Suggestions welcomed.
**********************
I am so tired now. I'm going to crawl into bed and pass out. Hopefully, I will be able to sleep at least 4 hours or more until I wake up.
And hopefully the spiders will leave me alone.
All. Weekend. Long.
In my sleep-deprived delirium, I thought I saw a big brown spider hovering over the bed while I was laying in it. I swatted the air a couple times to catch the web, but to no avail. Thinking I saw the spider duck behind the head board, I popped up on my hands and knees and groped around the head board, hoping to...oh hell, I don't know what I was hoping to do. I fell back into bed and came to the realization that had just hallucinated a spider, and I was closer to that point where all nurses lose their marbles.
I'm glad no one was there to see my antics. Had Brother peered in my room at that given time and seen me swatting air and patting my headboard, I'm sure he would have gone straight to Mom and announced I had officially lost my shit.
Thank God I don't sleep walk anymore...
**********************
I have a ginormous bruise on my arm courtesy of Brother. He passed me going to Mom's house and gave me a little love tap on my arm. The next day, I had a hard knot on my upper arm, now I have a big, ugly purple bruise.
Everyone at work now thinks I do things during my off time that would warrant my own pay per view channel.
If Brother didn't shave his head, I'd put Nair in his shampoo. I'm going to have to think of some other way of getting even.
Suggestions welcomed.
**********************
I am so tired now. I'm going to crawl into bed and pass out. Hopefully, I will be able to sleep at least 4 hours or more until I wake up.
And hopefully the spiders will leave me alone.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Friday's Feast
Appetizer
If you could be any current celebrity for one whole week, who would you want to be?
Angelina Jolie, not pregnant, naked, with Brad Pitt (and the kids would be away...somewhere)
Soup
On a scale of 1-10 (with 10 being highest), how much do you enjoy talking on the phone?
5...and that depends on who I am talking to
Salad
Name a charitable organization to which you have donated (or would like to).
Toys 4 Tots, I have donated money and toys
Main Course
What is a food you like so much you could eat it every single day for a month?
Cheese
Dessert
Have you or anyone in your family had the flu this year?
Mom...Mr. Recommendation...that's it.
If you could be any current celebrity for one whole week, who would you want to be?
Angelina Jolie, not pregnant, naked, with Brad Pitt (and the kids would be away...somewhere)
Soup
On a scale of 1-10 (with 10 being highest), how much do you enjoy talking on the phone?
5...and that depends on who I am talking to
Salad
Name a charitable organization to which you have donated (or would like to).
Toys 4 Tots, I have donated money and toys
Main Course
What is a food you like so much you could eat it every single day for a month?
Cheese
Dessert
Have you or anyone in your family had the flu this year?
Mom...Mr. Recommendation...that's it.
Funtimes and Fungi
I woke up this morning to a light dusting of snow. Snow! This is what happens when I don't watch local news. I get surprised with snow when I wake up.
I spoke with Indy who reports steady snowfall in the land of Milk and Honey (i.e. Johnson County). M&M also reports a steady snowfall downtown.
It's long since stopped snowing here.
I'm tired of winter. Winter sucks. The only upside to a harsh winter might be a bumper crop of morels this season. I suck at finding morels, but Brother can't go anywhere without tripping on a dozen of them. So, he is my designated mushroom hunter.
Mom and Mr. Recommendation came over last night for dinner. I prepared pork chops smothered in mushroom gravy, fresh asparagus, rolls, and rice. The real rice and not that instant stuff. Mom and Mr. Recommendation have been rocking the lunch meat sandwiches since they moved in (and are in the process of remodeling the kitchen), and I figured they might like a hot meal. They were.
It wasn't until after dinner that I noticed that Mom was wearing her slippers.
"It's not everyday you get to go out to eat and still wear your slippers."
So now, I'm going to go back to bed and take a nap before work festivities begin. I hope this weekend doesn't suck.
I spoke with Indy who reports steady snowfall in the land of Milk and Honey (i.e. Johnson County). M&M also reports a steady snowfall downtown.
It's long since stopped snowing here.
I'm tired of winter. Winter sucks. The only upside to a harsh winter might be a bumper crop of morels this season. I suck at finding morels, but Brother can't go anywhere without tripping on a dozen of them. So, he is my designated mushroom hunter.
Mom and Mr. Recommendation came over last night for dinner. I prepared pork chops smothered in mushroom gravy, fresh asparagus, rolls, and rice. The real rice and not that instant stuff. Mom and Mr. Recommendation have been rocking the lunch meat sandwiches since they moved in (and are in the process of remodeling the kitchen), and I figured they might like a hot meal. They were.
It wasn't until after dinner that I noticed that Mom was wearing her slippers.
"It's not everyday you get to go out to eat and still wear your slippers."
So now, I'm going to go back to bed and take a nap before work festivities begin. I hope this weekend doesn't suck.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Birthday Month!
March is my birthday month. My actual birthday falls on a Friday, of which I have taken off work so I can celebrate accordingly.
If you are interested in joining in the fun...let me know.
Presents optional.
(Party may or may not include drunk dancing lesbians, drag queens, barfing in my rock garden...and a circus midget that moonlights as a stripper...if I'm lucky.)
If you are interested in joining in the fun...let me know.
Presents optional.
(Party may or may not include drunk dancing lesbians, drag queens, barfing in my rock garden...and a circus midget that moonlights as a stripper...if I'm lucky.)
Monday, March 03, 2008
Monday's Musings
Well, the dust is settling from the weekend flurry of activity.
They kicked Mom out of the hospital this weekend after a couple rounds of heavy-duty antibiotics. She's not acting like a space cadet anymore, so I take this as a good sign that the infection is subsiding. She follows up in two weeks, so we will see if there is any residual damage.
I harped on her pretty good about withholding vital information from me, otherwise I might have suspected something more sinister and sought treatment sooner. Mom hates doctors. She hates hospitals. She would rather die than go to either. I think she secretly knows that one of the fastest ways to push my buttons is to roll over and play dead (literally and figuratively).
Me: And you could have caused permanent kidney damage! You'd have to go on dialysis and I would have to visit you at the dialysis center three times a week. Then, I'd give you one of my kidneys!
Mom: Oh...my life isn't worth saving. Just let it go.
Me: Too bad. You'd be getting a kidney.
Mom: You don't even know that you'd be a match.
Me: You got three kids. Odds are likely that one of us would be. That's why you have children...for spare parts!! You'll get a new kidney whether you want it or not!!
~Sigh~
Parental Moving Day was also this weekend. I now have neighbors. Cranky Ass Neighbor Lady on the other side of my house stood on her porch for a good ten minutes trying to figure out why me and my brother would be frequently going to the new neighbor's house. At one point, her husband even stopped to watch. Both of them scowling.
I think it will be good with Mom close by, especially in light of recent events. Plus, there is the added entertainment factor. Yesterday, I was looking out the window when Mom called.
Mom: Whachadoin?
Me: Spying on my new neighbors. I think the lady looks a little shifty.
With the festivities of Parental Moving Day coinciding with Mom Gets Released From Hospital Day, extra hands were called in to help with moving. One being a friend of Brother's. Another being Indy. And the last one being a coworker friend of Mr. Recommendation who apparently can't do anything unless he's high on grass. Every time you turn around, he's disappeared. Usually to his car to smoke an herbal refreshment. Having met this guy a couple times, I decided I didn't like him. Big time pothead, tells horrible jokes, and just a general all-round douche nozzle. When I decide I don't like someone, I usually throw the bitch switch around the third time I am forced to be around them. Some things just can't be contained. Why even try? You'll only give yourself an ulcer...
At one point, he opened a bottle of mom's Patron and started drinking directly from the bottle. I yelled at him for being a disgusting pig. For those who are not familiar with Patron, just know it's a very top shelf tequila, and a small bottle will set you back at least $40. If I had seen Pothead drinking directly from my bottle of Gray Goose, I would have taken the bottle, shoved it up his ass sideways, then made him pay for a new bottle.
At any rate, Pothead turned out to be completely worthless in the moving department, pretty much pissing off everyone else. Including Mr. Recommendation. Mom found out about the Patron Incident, and she was pretty hacked. She may be small, but she's a little ball of fury when she's pissed.
Part of the move included a bbq grill switcheroo. Mr. Recommendation has a $1000+ grill that makes men sport wood whenever they see it. Anyway, this grill had been in the safekeeping of friends of his, as their grill was a P.O.S. and fell apart. A $300 was at Mom's apartment and would be switched with my $160 grill after the move (because I'm awesome and clearly the favorite). My grill was to go to the couple that had the fancy grill, to replace the one that fell apart. It wasn't big and fancy, but it was only two years old, and not a spot of rust on it. I never even got around to using the burner.
Mr. Recommendation loads up my grill, and Indy rides over for the grill switch. The husband turns up his nose at my grill and says he doesn't want it. Never mind the fact the grill they actually owned was held together by rust. Mr. Recommendation shrugs and takes his fancy grill, and my grill, away. Pissed off by the sheer snobbery of some people, I gave my grill to Indy, who was more than happy to have it. I got the $300 grill, Mr. Recommendation got his fancy grill back. And Snobby Couple can kiss my ass. I have no use for people who think that having money (or think they have money) makes them better than anyone else.
I've decided that I don't like them either. Once you've hit "I don't think I like you very much" on my list, you may as well consider yourself permanent resident. I get that from my Dad.
At any rate, I'm very excited about the new grill, in ways that men typically get excited about such things. My first food I will cook on the new grill, will be hamburgers, a la XO. I've already purchased big buns and Old Bay seasoning.
Now, if Alzheimer's-afflicted Mother Nature would get her shit together, grilling season can begin. This spring-one-day, winter-the-next is for the birds.
They kicked Mom out of the hospital this weekend after a couple rounds of heavy-duty antibiotics. She's not acting like a space cadet anymore, so I take this as a good sign that the infection is subsiding. She follows up in two weeks, so we will see if there is any residual damage.
I harped on her pretty good about withholding vital information from me, otherwise I might have suspected something more sinister and sought treatment sooner. Mom hates doctors. She hates hospitals. She would rather die than go to either. I think she secretly knows that one of the fastest ways to push my buttons is to roll over and play dead (literally and figuratively).
Me: And you could have caused permanent kidney damage! You'd have to go on dialysis and I would have to visit you at the dialysis center three times a week. Then, I'd give you one of my kidneys!
Mom: Oh...my life isn't worth saving. Just let it go.
Me: Too bad. You'd be getting a kidney.
Mom: You don't even know that you'd be a match.
Me: You got three kids. Odds are likely that one of us would be. That's why you have children...for spare parts!! You'll get a new kidney whether you want it or not!!
~Sigh~
Parental Moving Day was also this weekend. I now have neighbors. Cranky Ass Neighbor Lady on the other side of my house stood on her porch for a good ten minutes trying to figure out why me and my brother would be frequently going to the new neighbor's house. At one point, her husband even stopped to watch. Both of them scowling.
I think it will be good with Mom close by, especially in light of recent events. Plus, there is the added entertainment factor. Yesterday, I was looking out the window when Mom called.
Mom: Whachadoin?
Me: Spying on my new neighbors. I think the lady looks a little shifty.
With the festivities of Parental Moving Day coinciding with Mom Gets Released From Hospital Day, extra hands were called in to help with moving. One being a friend of Brother's. Another being Indy. And the last one being a coworker friend of Mr. Recommendation who apparently can't do anything unless he's high on grass. Every time you turn around, he's disappeared. Usually to his car to smoke an herbal refreshment. Having met this guy a couple times, I decided I didn't like him. Big time pothead, tells horrible jokes, and just a general all-round douche nozzle. When I decide I don't like someone, I usually throw the bitch switch around the third time I am forced to be around them. Some things just can't be contained. Why even try? You'll only give yourself an ulcer...
At one point, he opened a bottle of mom's Patron and started drinking directly from the bottle. I yelled at him for being a disgusting pig. For those who are not familiar with Patron, just know it's a very top shelf tequila, and a small bottle will set you back at least $40. If I had seen Pothead drinking directly from my bottle of Gray Goose, I would have taken the bottle, shoved it up his ass sideways, then made him pay for a new bottle.
At any rate, Pothead turned out to be completely worthless in the moving department, pretty much pissing off everyone else. Including Mr. Recommendation. Mom found out about the Patron Incident, and she was pretty hacked. She may be small, but she's a little ball of fury when she's pissed.
Part of the move included a bbq grill switcheroo. Mr. Recommendation has a $1000+ grill that makes men sport wood whenever they see it. Anyway, this grill had been in the safekeeping of friends of his, as their grill was a P.O.S. and fell apart. A $300 was at Mom's apartment and would be switched with my $160 grill after the move (because I'm awesome and clearly the favorite). My grill was to go to the couple that had the fancy grill, to replace the one that fell apart. It wasn't big and fancy, but it was only two years old, and not a spot of rust on it. I never even got around to using the burner.
Mr. Recommendation loads up my grill, and Indy rides over for the grill switch. The husband turns up his nose at my grill and says he doesn't want it. Never mind the fact the grill they actually owned was held together by rust. Mr. Recommendation shrugs and takes his fancy grill, and my grill, away. Pissed off by the sheer snobbery of some people, I gave my grill to Indy, who was more than happy to have it. I got the $300 grill, Mr. Recommendation got his fancy grill back. And Snobby Couple can kiss my ass. I have no use for people who think that having money (or think they have money) makes them better than anyone else.
I've decided that I don't like them either. Once you've hit "I don't think I like you very much" on my list, you may as well consider yourself permanent resident. I get that from my Dad.
At any rate, I'm very excited about the new grill, in ways that men typically get excited about such things. My first food I will cook on the new grill, will be hamburgers, a la XO. I've already purchased big buns and Old Bay seasoning.
Now, if Alzheimer's-afflicted Mother Nature would get her shit together, grilling season can begin. This spring-one-day, winter-the-next is for the birds.
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