So there we were at Daughter #2's first T-ball game of the season - I may be the oldest mother there. As a matter of fact, I think I recognized one of the grandparents as being a classmate of mine in high school. But I had on Daughter #1's clothes and my so-fucking-big-you-cannot-see-my-crow's feet sunglasses so hopefully no one picked up on it. It, being the fact that Daughter #2 is considerably younger than the other children. She's their sister by a different mister. It's okay - I'm married to that mister. Don't get all on-the-edge-of-your-seat excited on me here.
I had to walk over to a different building for a meeting (Yes. A meeting). And on my way back to the T-ball field, I was approached by a darling young mom, all cute in her cargo capri's, stretch T and flip flops, clearly sportin' a bun in the oven and she's all smiling and walking directly toward me and I can see the white envelopes in her arms and I'm on to her - she's handing out the fund raiser shit. So I smile warmly and walk straight so she actually has a shot at catching me, and as soon as we are within hearing distance of each other, I put my hand in the air and say, "Oh HELL NO - don't EVEN give me one of those." The look on her face was priceless. I had clearly caught her off-guard and I didn't want her to think I was just some jaded old sour puss (figured she'd figure that out on her own soon enough) - so I lightened my spirit and added, "Can I just buy it out?" She still looked confused. Obviously her first rodeo with the T-ball fund raiser. Poor thing. I almost felt sorry for her. Then I considered NOT filling her in on the bullshit baggage that comes with this fund raiser. But then I felt sorry for her again - almost.
So under my breath I said, "You know how much of a pain in the ass this fund raiser is, don't you? You have one week to sell 10,000 frozen pizzas so your kid can get a free frisbee, then the shit doesn't even come in until the end of July. So all summer long, you field phone calls from disgruntled purchasers - looking for their goodies that they bought with intention of feeding their teenagers all summer long - sad that it won't be here until the end of July. Then you have to retrieve all the shit yourself - and then fucking deliver it to every person who ordered from you." I'm pretty sure she thought she hadn't heard me correctly because she asked, "I have to pick this stuff up and deliver it to anyone that we sell to?" That's right sister. You SURE DO! And guess what? Last year the shit came in while we were on vacation and so we had to recruit another sucker to pick it all up for us. And then we came back from vacation and were greeted by a deep freeze full of pizza and cookie dough. We spent the next week delivering the shit. What a nightmare.
She looked terrified. I was glad. I'm sick like that. So I continued, "And then there was the year that the big kids got into ALL the tubs of cookie dough and ate one bite out of each of them so I actually had to PAY people who had purchased the shit and I ended up with $300 worth of cookie dough in my freezer." She was totally freaked out at this time. I know she rolled her eyes. I could sense it. I knew my job there was done, so I thanked her for the envelope and wished her luck!
I think I'll just order $50 worth of frozen shit for our deep freeze and go to the $1 store and buy the kid a bunch of cheap shit and tell her she won it. She'll never know the difference. And I'm happy that, as an older mother in the group, I was able to educate these novices.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
The Day my Life Passed Before my Eyes at the Beauty Shop
So a short while back, I was sitting in the hair salon, waiting on Daughter #1 to get her split ends chopped off and also to have her caterpillars trimmed up because she was starting to look a little like Oscar the Grouch. And as I sat there, listening to my iPod and playing some game (iPhone is an amazing little piece of technology that I fail to understand how I ever lived without it for so long and those fuckers at American Idol are damned lucky I got mine to power back up after Lee DeWitz killed it last night) - and all of a sudden, this guy in a leather apron (Stay with me here people - that was not some Freudian slip -he had on a LEATHER APRON) - comes up to me and sits down. So I give him some fake smile - you know, the one that shows politeness but at the same time screams "What.the.fuck are you doing perv? There's other seats in the place!" That one. So he smiles back and asks if my name is bleach blonde. Umm - yeh. And now I'm looking really freaked out. And then he drops the bomb on me - "Do you remember me?" Ummmm - that's a negatory pal. And then, because he's like fucking social Rambo in a leather apron, he drops another bomb - "One night..." - at that point I think I might have blacked out. Any story that starts with "one night" and involves me and my past (God only knows WHICH past) cannot end well and I start to fidget, and sweat and also look furtively toward my daughter, whom I certainly do NOT want to hear ANY part of this fucked up story he's about to share with me.
My mind raced backward in time - to every bar, every concert, every party I'd ever been to - it's sketchy at best and I'm not placing this dude anywhere. I'm really nervous at this point, wondering what fucking horrible part of my past is about to be aired in the hair salon. Jesus. Why don't you just call fucking CNN? It'd be less dangerous than sharing my past in the hair salon. I must have looked VERY nervous and shaken up because he quickly spit out the rest of the line he was working on - "you, me, your friend C and her friend K went on a double date!"
WE did? Who was with whom I'm wondering. Was I on the double date with this leather apron donning man? I still look totally confused and baffled and admit I have NO CLUE who he is. None. It's not coming back to me at all, but the names of the other two involved rang a bell - from my high school days and I haven't seen either of them since high school, so at least I had an excuse for not remembering this guy - it had been over 25 years since I'd seen him. How the fuck did he recognize me? Finally he blurts out his name. And I jump up and screech - "OMG - NO FUCKING WAY? OMG!!!!" And then I punch him in the arm - for some reason that is still unbeknownst to me. I never punch anyone in the arm - so why I punched him will forever remain a mystery to me. But I did. And instantly his eyes lit up and his smile warmed the entire place - he was happy that I remembered him! Sadly though.... I really didn't. I still had no fucking clue who he was. The name did sound somewhat familiar - but I was still not making the connection - but I didn't want him to know that. Maybe that's why I punched him? Still a mystery.
Anyway -I finally sat down and acted like a civilized human being and we chatted for at least half an hour. He was living my dream. Which totally pissed me off but in many ways I found it so ironic. Here's this guy, that I supposedly went on a date with (I don't even think I was allowed to date back then), haven't talked to in over 25 years - may be closer to 30 actually because he was 4 years older than me (still is, oddly enough), and he's living my dream. Started his career in corporate America, climbing the ladder, held prisoner by the golden handcuffs by a job that was sucking the life out of him. And one day he woke up and decided that was it - he was sick of waking up on Monday, wishing it was Friday, and essentially wishing his entire life away day by day JUST BECAUSE HE HATED HIS CAREER CHOICE. So he quit. And now he's a cook!!! He does BBQ catering ONLY - so he just cooks all day and people come and pick up their food from him. And he was so warm. And happy. And gentle. And sweet. And we chatted and chatted like long lost friends who had just reconnected (which, evidently in his world we were - in mine though we were still total strangers because I have obviously killed off that part of my brain). And he was pissed off about morbidly obese people like I am. And he was grossed out by this one girl from our high school (just like I am) who cannot stay out of the tanning booth or stop bleaching her hair.
And then he told me that he thought I was always pretty damned cute, but to be certain to go back and tell my husband that I'm even better lookin' as a 40 something woman than I ever was as a high school girl. I thought that was sweet and it really boosted my confidence and sometimes I need that.
And we just sat there and chatted and chatted. And it never did click with me exactly WHO he was. But I liked him. Not in a romantic kind of way - but I liked the person I was sitting with, talking to. And as I drove home, I longed to spend more time with him and meet his wife and we could have them over to dinner. He was just a cool fucking person and talking to him that morning made my entire day. And when I got home, I scurried to the basement and dug out my yearbook from 1981 - and I looked him up. Hmmm. Nothing. I still did not recall him - I mean his picture looked familiar - but not like someone that I knew really well or hung out with - but clearly we had as he remembered me and all of my friends and told stories - after all these years. Feeling like a complete dumbass, I reached out to one of the girls he had mentioned - told her I'd run into him. She laughed and said she had JUST run across a picture of all of together in high school. What.The.Fuck? Here's this kick ass human being, that I evidently knew at one point in my life and have now completely erased ALL memories of him? Jesus I was a contrite little bitch back then. I now wonder how many other amazing human beings I excused for whatever shallow reason made sense to me at the time?
There's a place for people like me. You guess the name of it.
My mind raced backward in time - to every bar, every concert, every party I'd ever been to - it's sketchy at best and I'm not placing this dude anywhere. I'm really nervous at this point, wondering what fucking horrible part of my past is about to be aired in the hair salon. Jesus. Why don't you just call fucking CNN? It'd be less dangerous than sharing my past in the hair salon. I must have looked VERY nervous and shaken up because he quickly spit out the rest of the line he was working on - "you, me, your friend C and her friend K went on a double date!"
WE did? Who was with whom I'm wondering. Was I on the double date with this leather apron donning man? I still look totally confused and baffled and admit I have NO CLUE who he is. None. It's not coming back to me at all, but the names of the other two involved rang a bell - from my high school days and I haven't seen either of them since high school, so at least I had an excuse for not remembering this guy - it had been over 25 years since I'd seen him. How the fuck did he recognize me? Finally he blurts out his name. And I jump up and screech - "OMG - NO FUCKING WAY? OMG!!!!" And then I punch him in the arm - for some reason that is still unbeknownst to me. I never punch anyone in the arm - so why I punched him will forever remain a mystery to me. But I did. And instantly his eyes lit up and his smile warmed the entire place - he was happy that I remembered him! Sadly though.... I really didn't. I still had no fucking clue who he was. The name did sound somewhat familiar - but I was still not making the connection - but I didn't want him to know that. Maybe that's why I punched him? Still a mystery.
Anyway -I finally sat down and acted like a civilized human being and we chatted for at least half an hour. He was living my dream. Which totally pissed me off but in many ways I found it so ironic. Here's this guy, that I supposedly went on a date with (I don't even think I was allowed to date back then), haven't talked to in over 25 years - may be closer to 30 actually because he was 4 years older than me (still is, oddly enough), and he's living my dream. Started his career in corporate America, climbing the ladder, held prisoner by the golden handcuffs by a job that was sucking the life out of him. And one day he woke up and decided that was it - he was sick of waking up on Monday, wishing it was Friday, and essentially wishing his entire life away day by day JUST BECAUSE HE HATED HIS CAREER CHOICE. So he quit. And now he's a cook!!! He does BBQ catering ONLY - so he just cooks all day and people come and pick up their food from him. And he was so warm. And happy. And gentle. And sweet. And we chatted and chatted like long lost friends who had just reconnected (which, evidently in his world we were - in mine though we were still total strangers because I have obviously killed off that part of my brain). And he was pissed off about morbidly obese people like I am. And he was grossed out by this one girl from our high school (just like I am) who cannot stay out of the tanning booth or stop bleaching her hair.
And then he told me that he thought I was always pretty damned cute, but to be certain to go back and tell my husband that I'm even better lookin' as a 40 something woman than I ever was as a high school girl. I thought that was sweet and it really boosted my confidence and sometimes I need that.
And we just sat there and chatted and chatted. And it never did click with me exactly WHO he was. But I liked him. Not in a romantic kind of way - but I liked the person I was sitting with, talking to. And as I drove home, I longed to spend more time with him and meet his wife and we could have them over to dinner. He was just a cool fucking person and talking to him that morning made my entire day. And when I got home, I scurried to the basement and dug out my yearbook from 1981 - and I looked him up. Hmmm. Nothing. I still did not recall him - I mean his picture looked familiar - but not like someone that I knew really well or hung out with - but clearly we had as he remembered me and all of my friends and told stories - after all these years. Feeling like a complete dumbass, I reached out to one of the girls he had mentioned - told her I'd run into him. She laughed and said she had JUST run across a picture of all of together in high school. What.The.Fuck? Here's this kick ass human being, that I evidently knew at one point in my life and have now completely erased ALL memories of him? Jesus I was a contrite little bitch back then. I now wonder how many other amazing human beings I excused for whatever shallow reason made sense to me at the time?
There's a place for people like me. You guess the name of it.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
The Day American Idol RUINED my life
Lots going on today - so much that mind is starting to reel again. I really do function at my best when I'm totally overloaded with shit and totally stressed out. I thrive on it actually. It's an illness. Don't judge.
I went to work and some really super awesomely great shit happened there - but I can't share it with you. Sorry. Well, wait - I will share THIS with you about work (shhh - don't tell ANYONE) - I totally wore my new shirt to work today:
That's right - GUNS 'n ROSES!! On the back of my shirt!! And you know that when I put it on this morning I was totally feelin' like a freakin' bad ass rocker chick. Nevermind that I actually purchased it at the State Barrel Race finals and I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be a cowgirl shirt - but it was hot and I didn't feel like wearing my cagirl boots so I instead donned it like I was super kick ass rocker gal. And I was. And not one fucking person even commented on it. Not one. Fuck all y'all. Who sees someone in such a kick ass shirt and does NOT comment on how fucking rockin' it is? (To my lone reader from work - by my choice - in your defense I don't think you saw me - because I know you would have commented on how fucking cool I was in that shirt so the fuck all y'all doesn't apply to you).
At that same barrel race - I also bought this kick ass sun dress that's all embellished with sequins and bling and I am TOTALLY going to wear it with my cagirl boots. I don't know where I'm going in it yet - but trust me - I will wear that outfit at some point this summer. And I will feel like I'm 18 all over again. And I will stab real daggers into the eyes of ANYONE who gives me the stink eye when they see me in it. Kay? Just remember that. I used to have a shirt that said, "I AM the Sheriff" on it - Or maybe it said, "I AM the Law" - I cannot recall - but it was a skimpy little red thing with bling all over it - and I LOVED to wear it out to the country bars. That was back when I thought I was a really fucking hot 35 year old - well I was actually - and also I was single so it seemed appropriate to wear such a shirt. Then I got married and had child #3 and so I think the shirt got tossed in the trash. I really wish I'd saved it. Anyway - there I go again - off on a tangent of unknown direction and reason.
Then I did some other shit and blah blah blah and yada yada yada and then "DING" the goin' home bell went off - so I went home. Where I promptly changed clothes into my super kickass shorts I totally stole from Daughter #1 and headed out to take the flubbery beast for a walk. Well, not only did the beast go with, but so did daughter #1 AND one of my other sons (not the prodigal son - he was busy playing XBox - STILL - for the 198th consecutive day). YAY! Walking buddies! And my other son was actually the dog handler so I could walk freely and without his pain in the ass stopping to piss on every blade of grass he passed. And the dingbat daughter #1 - who is NOT a blonde - decided to ride a very small razor scooter - barefooted - on a 2 mile walk. She has blisters on her feet now - but I don't feel sorry for her because I told her it was a bad idea, but she is almost 15 and far smarter than I. Now she limps like a peg-leg pirate on a swaying plank. That's her problem. Not mine.
On the downhill stretch home, the other son challenges me to a race.
Him: Bleach blonde, I'll race you the rest of the way home - JOGGING.
Me: Oh hell no! You did NOT just challenge me?
Him: I did - GO!
Me: BRING IT PUNK - BRING IT!!!
So off we went - running, down a hill, my boobs flying up and then stretching low and getting saggier with each step. My giant - can't see any of my crow's feet - sunglasses bouncing up and down on my already crooked nose, threatening to break it with each step. But I did not stop - I ran my little heart out. And then it was so pathetic how much fucking faster than him I was, I had to hold myself back. I didn't want to embarrass him or hurt his feelings - and every now and again you have to let a kid win or be right - it's part of life - beat them or make them wrong 98% of the time, but 2% of the time - take the high road. So I slowed down my pace, quite a bit actually - I was shocked at slow he was moving - I damned near had to stop dead in my tracks to allow him to even catch up to me. Fucking kids. At one point I think I was even jogging in place to give the illusion that I was moving as fast as I could but he was still winning. The things I do to build kids' self esteem. I swear. I should get mother of the year award. I really should.
So now - I'm sore. And it's only been 3 hours. What.the.fuck? I bet I won't even be able to get out of bed in the morning. I think I might have dislocated my 4th vertebrae. Or bruised my tail bone. (don't ask).
Oh shit - here it comes - winner of American Idol - - - - -- oh fuck me. Lee. Second fucking year in a row that it's NOT the person it should be. That's okay Mama Sox - most winners of this show never go on to do a damned thing with their life (at least that any of us ever hear about) - you, on the other hand - I will see in concert within the year. I'm done with that show. Although I admit I did enjoy seeing Janet Jackson perform tonight. This Lee sings like SHIT. Awful. I swear I've heard him before. Whatever.
And now I just noticed I can't get my iPhone to power on. What.the.fuck. God Dammit. Ever since this fucking Lee won American Idol, my life's gone to hell in a hand basket. Thanks American Idol. For ruining my fucking iPhone. Fuckers.
I went to work and some really super awesomely great shit happened there - but I can't share it with you. Sorry. Well, wait - I will share THIS with you about work (shhh - don't tell ANYONE) - I totally wore my new shirt to work today:
That's right - GUNS 'n ROSES!! On the back of my shirt!! And you know that when I put it on this morning I was totally feelin' like a freakin' bad ass rocker chick. Nevermind that I actually purchased it at the State Barrel Race finals and I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be a cowgirl shirt - but it was hot and I didn't feel like wearing my cagirl boots so I instead donned it like I was super kick ass rocker gal. And I was. And not one fucking person even commented on it. Not one. Fuck all y'all. Who sees someone in such a kick ass shirt and does NOT comment on how fucking rockin' it is? (To my lone reader from work - by my choice - in your defense I don't think you saw me - because I know you would have commented on how fucking cool I was in that shirt so the fuck all y'all doesn't apply to you).
At that same barrel race - I also bought this kick ass sun dress that's all embellished with sequins and bling and I am TOTALLY going to wear it with my cagirl boots. I don't know where I'm going in it yet - but trust me - I will wear that outfit at some point this summer. And I will feel like I'm 18 all over again. And I will stab real daggers into the eyes of ANYONE who gives me the stink eye when they see me in it. Kay? Just remember that. I used to have a shirt that said, "I AM the Sheriff" on it - Or maybe it said, "I AM the Law" - I cannot recall - but it was a skimpy little red thing with bling all over it - and I LOVED to wear it out to the country bars. That was back when I thought I was a really fucking hot 35 year old - well I was actually - and also I was single so it seemed appropriate to wear such a shirt. Then I got married and had child #3 and so I think the shirt got tossed in the trash. I really wish I'd saved it. Anyway - there I go again - off on a tangent of unknown direction and reason.
Then I did some other shit and blah blah blah and yada yada yada and then "DING" the goin' home bell went off - so I went home. Where I promptly changed clothes into my super kickass shorts I totally stole from Daughter #1 and headed out to take the flubbery beast for a walk. Well, not only did the beast go with, but so did daughter #1 AND one of my other sons (not the prodigal son - he was busy playing XBox - STILL - for the 198th consecutive day). YAY! Walking buddies! And my other son was actually the dog handler so I could walk freely and without his pain in the ass stopping to piss on every blade of grass he passed. And the dingbat daughter #1 - who is NOT a blonde - decided to ride a very small razor scooter - barefooted - on a 2 mile walk. She has blisters on her feet now - but I don't feel sorry for her because I told her it was a bad idea, but she is almost 15 and far smarter than I. Now she limps like a peg-leg pirate on a swaying plank. That's her problem. Not mine.
On the downhill stretch home, the other son challenges me to a race.
Him: Bleach blonde, I'll race you the rest of the way home - JOGGING.
Me: Oh hell no! You did NOT just challenge me?
Him: I did - GO!
Me: BRING IT PUNK - BRING IT!!!
So off we went - running, down a hill, my boobs flying up and then stretching low and getting saggier with each step. My giant - can't see any of my crow's feet - sunglasses bouncing up and down on my already crooked nose, threatening to break it with each step. But I did not stop - I ran my little heart out. And then it was so pathetic how much fucking faster than him I was, I had to hold myself back. I didn't want to embarrass him or hurt his feelings - and every now and again you have to let a kid win or be right - it's part of life - beat them or make them wrong 98% of the time, but 2% of the time - take the high road. So I slowed down my pace, quite a bit actually - I was shocked at slow he was moving - I damned near had to stop dead in my tracks to allow him to even catch up to me. Fucking kids. At one point I think I was even jogging in place to give the illusion that I was moving as fast as I could but he was still winning. The things I do to build kids' self esteem. I swear. I should get mother of the year award. I really should.
So now - I'm sore. And it's only been 3 hours. What.the.fuck? I bet I won't even be able to get out of bed in the morning. I think I might have dislocated my 4th vertebrae. Or bruised my tail bone. (don't ask).
Oh shit - here it comes - winner of American Idol - - - - -- oh fuck me. Lee. Second fucking year in a row that it's NOT the person it should be. That's okay Mama Sox - most winners of this show never go on to do a damned thing with their life (at least that any of us ever hear about) - you, on the other hand - I will see in concert within the year. I'm done with that show. Although I admit I did enjoy seeing Janet Jackson perform tonight. This Lee sings like SHIT. Awful. I swear I've heard him before. Whatever.
And now I just noticed I can't get my iPhone to power on. What.the.fuck. God Dammit. Ever since this fucking Lee won American Idol, my life's gone to hell in a hand basket. Thanks American Idol. For ruining my fucking iPhone. Fuckers.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
The blog entry that could not come to be - and other random shit -
God how I wish I could blog about work. Granted, there is nothing that physically prohibits me from doing so, but my stupid fucking better judgment always kicks in and tells me it's just a hideously bad idea. But it really is a shame, y'all would get a kick out of the shit that runs through my head about that place and the goings on there. Too bad. You'll never know. Well, maybe one day you will, but until then I guess you're stuck with other random shit that runs through my crazy bleach blonde head.
So today, daughter #1 took the flubbery beast for his daily walk because I didn't have time to do it over lunch and I was afraid it would be raining by the time I got home from work. (I still haven't seen the aforementioned rain which I thought was in the forecast, but whatever - it's May - in Kansas - just go with it). So, the point of that long drug out explanation is this: I TOOK MY DAILY WALK WITHOUT THE FAT ASS DOG IN TOW!! I got to walk alone. - Just myself. Without having to maneuver a 110 lb dog, without having to deal with every "watch dog" in the neighborhood nipping at my heels and without having to drag him away from every hydrant he insists on planting his nose into. It was quite blissful - almost to the point I felt guilty for enjoying myself so much. He so enjoys the little jaunts we go on, so I felt horrible that I was enjoying myself more without him. I got over it pretty quick though. I'm pretty damned good at finding reasons for feeling guilty and I quickly dismissed the guilt related to a dog. Plenty of people out there to spend that energy on.
Good GOD - get a grip here - I cannot carry a fluid thought for more than 2 minutes people. Maybe it's because I'm also trying to watch the Real Housewives of NYC and the drama is pretty intense and, like it's a train wreck, I cannot turn away. Those bitches are fucking NUTS. And also, the husband came in to tell me a long story about something and someone and all I know is that it involved pot. I'll have to ask him more about that later.
So anyway, while I was walking - ALONE - it occurred to me that I was keeping pace with the music blaring from my iPod into my ears and not the dog like I normally am. And it was kind of a slow song, so it was taking me a horribly long time to traverse the OH FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST. NOW DAUGHTER #2 WANTS ME TO WATCH HER PUT ON HER PAJAMA TOP.
Think. Think. Think. Just never fucking mind. It wasn't that interesting or funny anyway.
So today, daughter #1 took the flubbery beast for his daily walk because I didn't have time to do it over lunch and I was afraid it would be raining by the time I got home from work. (I still haven't seen the aforementioned rain which I thought was in the forecast, but whatever - it's May - in Kansas - just go with it). So, the point of that long drug out explanation is this: I TOOK MY DAILY WALK WITHOUT THE FAT ASS DOG IN TOW!! I got to walk alone. - Just myself. Without having to maneuver a 110 lb dog, without having to deal with every "watch dog" in the neighborhood nipping at my heels and without having to drag him away from every hydrant he insists on planting his nose into. It was quite blissful - almost to the point I felt guilty for enjoying myself so much. He so enjoys the little jaunts we go on, so I felt horrible that I was enjoying myself more without him. I got over it pretty quick though. I'm pretty damned good at finding reasons for feeling guilty and I quickly dismissed the guilt related to a dog. Plenty of people out there to spend that energy on.
Good GOD - get a grip here - I cannot carry a fluid thought for more than 2 minutes people. Maybe it's because I'm also trying to watch the Real Housewives of NYC and the drama is pretty intense and, like it's a train wreck, I cannot turn away. Those bitches are fucking NUTS. And also, the husband came in to tell me a long story about something and someone and all I know is that it involved pot. I'll have to ask him more about that later.
So anyway, while I was walking - ALONE - it occurred to me that I was keeping pace with the music blaring from my iPod into my ears and not the dog like I normally am. And it was kind of a slow song, so it was taking me a horribly long time to traverse the OH FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST. NOW DAUGHTER #2 WANTS ME TO WATCH HER PUT ON HER PAJAMA TOP.
Think. Think. Think. Just never fucking mind. It wasn't that interesting or funny anyway.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Dog Walking aka Very Dangerous Day at the Park (HUH?)
I was going to tell a funny story to y'all.
Then I forgot it. Seriously. No joshin'.
So I'll tell you this one instead.
Today at lunch, in the 88 degree sunshinin' weather with 83% humidity, I took my flubber ass on a walk around the neighborhood. I clocked it in the car one day - it's 1.5 miles. The dog and I cover it in just under 20 minutes. We move fast. He (the dog) needs to drop about 8 pounds and I need to build a muscle in my ass so it's not so flubbery and flat. (Evidently 20+ years at a desk will do that to your ass - in case you're wonderin').
The neighborhood is pretty quiet during that time of day since most everyone is at work and because of that, that's the time I like to walk the dog. When I'm not forced to wave at people I don't know and act nice and cordial and neighborly. I just want to walk. I'm not out on a social mission. Sometimes I listen to my iPod and sing out loud while I walk. It gives the few onlookers I pass something to talk about. And that makes me smile.
Today, the dog and I were chased down by several dogs -
One is a bitter old retired police dog. He's either retired, or never got his badge, I'm not sure which. But he lives with a Sheriff's Deputy but he doesn't go to work with him - he just stays at home in the driveway and guards their house all day - and he's PISSED OFF about it. As soon as he sees us coming, he hauls ass, barking loudly, to the edge of his yard and stops - and just barks. And my pussy-assed 110 lb dog leaps into my arms and starts sucking his doo-claw just like Scooby fucking Doo. And as soon as I carry my ferocious beast past that house, he gets back down and starts walking again, and Sarge returns to his post at the top of the driveway. Every fucking day we go through this routine. I think Sarge might be slow and that's why he never got his badge. You'd think he'd start to recognize our scent and stop this asinine routine - but he never does. We're NEW intuders EVERY time.
Then we round the corner and walk a bit and that's where we pick up a miniature Collie looking thing. Shetland? What are they called? Looks like Lassie with 5" legs. That fucker runs out every time from BEHIND his house and chases us for four houses. My dog is less afraid of him than Sarge, so he doesn't leap into my arms, but instead, walks forward with his head turned backward, keeping an eye on shruken Lassie, so basically I end up dragging his 110 lb ass for those four houses. Then Lassie gets a call from Timmy, who is likely in the fucking well again, and goes back home to save him and we can move freely on up the street.
Next on the walk, we're chased down by a fucking chihuahua. Seriously? You're the size of my dog's head - and you're honestly chasing us down, crossing the street in the process? Give me a fucking break. But he's a persistent little fucker and he seems to intimidate my puss of a dog, so I guess he gets the job done.
And just as we're almost back home, from out of nowhere comes a miniature pincher of some sort. Looks like he got put in the dryer on the hot cycle and he's also very displeased and yapping and carrying on and I'm wishing at this point I had that air pistol with me - just so I could shoot these little bastards in the ass with it while I walk. And as I have thought, I wonder, "Who the fuck leaves their dog out ALL day while they are at work in an unfenced yard?" They're probably at work bragging to everyone how their dog never runs off, etc. Meanwhile, their dog is at home wreaking fucking havoc on everyone on foot all day long.
They're not frightening dogs. But they sure are annoying as hell. I think I WILL take that air pistol with me next time. Knowing my luck though, I'll probably get busted for having the damned thing because some old retired fart will report me as lurking through the neighborhood with a gun. That's exactly the kind of luck I have!!
So that's my dog walking story, which was not all that funny unless you were there. And also unless you were me, having those thoughts while I walked. But like I said, I forgot the other story.
Now - go eat some Rainbow Sherbet - it will cool you down and you will thank me for it later!
Then I forgot it. Seriously. No joshin'.
So I'll tell you this one instead.
Today at lunch, in the 88 degree sunshinin' weather with 83% humidity, I took my flubber ass on a walk around the neighborhood. I clocked it in the car one day - it's 1.5 miles. The dog and I cover it in just under 20 minutes. We move fast. He (the dog) needs to drop about 8 pounds and I need to build a muscle in my ass so it's not so flubbery and flat. (Evidently 20+ years at a desk will do that to your ass - in case you're wonderin').
The neighborhood is pretty quiet during that time of day since most everyone is at work and because of that, that's the time I like to walk the dog. When I'm not forced to wave at people I don't know and act nice and cordial and neighborly. I just want to walk. I'm not out on a social mission. Sometimes I listen to my iPod and sing out loud while I walk. It gives the few onlookers I pass something to talk about. And that makes me smile.
Today, the dog and I were chased down by several dogs -
One is a bitter old retired police dog. He's either retired, or never got his badge, I'm not sure which. But he lives with a Sheriff's Deputy but he doesn't go to work with him - he just stays at home in the driveway and guards their house all day - and he's PISSED OFF about it. As soon as he sees us coming, he hauls ass, barking loudly, to the edge of his yard and stops - and just barks. And my pussy-assed 110 lb dog leaps into my arms and starts sucking his doo-claw just like Scooby fucking Doo. And as soon as I carry my ferocious beast past that house, he gets back down and starts walking again, and Sarge returns to his post at the top of the driveway. Every fucking day we go through this routine. I think Sarge might be slow and that's why he never got his badge. You'd think he'd start to recognize our scent and stop this asinine routine - but he never does. We're NEW intuders EVERY time.
Then we round the corner and walk a bit and that's where we pick up a miniature Collie looking thing. Shetland? What are they called? Looks like Lassie with 5" legs. That fucker runs out every time from BEHIND his house and chases us for four houses. My dog is less afraid of him than Sarge, so he doesn't leap into my arms, but instead, walks forward with his head turned backward, keeping an eye on shruken Lassie, so basically I end up dragging his 110 lb ass for those four houses. Then Lassie gets a call from Timmy, who is likely in the fucking well again, and goes back home to save him and we can move freely on up the street.
Next on the walk, we're chased down by a fucking chihuahua. Seriously? You're the size of my dog's head - and you're honestly chasing us down, crossing the street in the process? Give me a fucking break. But he's a persistent little fucker and he seems to intimidate my puss of a dog, so I guess he gets the job done.
And just as we're almost back home, from out of nowhere comes a miniature pincher of some sort. Looks like he got put in the dryer on the hot cycle and he's also very displeased and yapping and carrying on and I'm wishing at this point I had that air pistol with me - just so I could shoot these little bastards in the ass with it while I walk. And as I have thought, I wonder, "Who the fuck leaves their dog out ALL day while they are at work in an unfenced yard?" They're probably at work bragging to everyone how their dog never runs off, etc. Meanwhile, their dog is at home wreaking fucking havoc on everyone on foot all day long.
They're not frightening dogs. But they sure are annoying as hell. I think I WILL take that air pistol with me next time. Knowing my luck though, I'll probably get busted for having the damned thing because some old retired fart will report me as lurking through the neighborhood with a gun. That's exactly the kind of luck I have!!
So that's my dog walking story, which was not all that funny unless you were there. And also unless you were me, having those thoughts while I walked. But like I said, I forgot the other story.
Now - go eat some Rainbow Sherbet - it will cool you down and you will thank me for it later!
Saturday, May 22, 2010
This totally could have been my article. Had someone else not thought of it and posted it first.
Excellent shit I saw on the innernets this week and wish I'd thought of:
http://www.theonion.com/articles/if-we-dont-stop-childhood-obesity-our-fat-toddlers,17455/
http://www.theonion.com/articles/if-we-dont-stop-childhood-obesity-our-fat-toddlers,17455/
Friday, May 21, 2010
Newsworthy? Must be cuz I read it on the innernets.
Shit I dug up on the innernets this week that caused my jaw to drop - either because of its total ludicrousy or because I had no clue this shit was going on behind my back while I was busy with graduation planning:
http://worldofpopculture.com/?p=128 - I'm speechless because no one forewarned me of this. How long has this been going on? And oh BTW Chaz - you still look like a woman.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/8677486.stm - Uh... stupid on so many different levels I can't even describe them all.
http://www.cnn.com/2010/TECH/05/19/pakistani.facebook.shutdown/index.html?hpt=T2 - You can do this? An entire nation can be blocked from Facebook? Good grief. I'm happier now than ever to be an American.
http://wcbstv.com/local/Adam.Wheeler.Delaware.2.1700695.html - who is REALLY at fault here? Let us not forget that obviously someone in admissions did NOT do their job.
http://www.cnn.com/2010/SHOWBIZ/Movies/05/19/lindsay.lohan.court/index.html?hpt=T2 - Give it up Lindsay - you're just a fuck up through and through. Seriously. I looked it up in Websters and there was an 8x10 glossy of you.
http://www.cnn.com/2010/HEALTH/05/18/postpartum.dads/index.html?hpt=Sbin - Oh for God's sake. When the fuck will men stop being such drama queens and vying for center stage all the fucking time? WHEN?
http://www.cnn.com/2010/US/05/19/new.york.kennedy.arrest/index.html?npt=NP1 - really? Now there's a shocker.
http://worldofpopculture.com/?p=128 - I'm speechless because no one forewarned me of this. How long has this been going on? And oh BTW Chaz - you still look like a woman.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/south_asia/8677486.stm - Uh... stupid on so many different levels I can't even describe them all.
http://www.cnn.com/2010/TECH/05/19/pakistani.facebook.shutdown/index.html?hpt=T2 - You can do this? An entire nation can be blocked from Facebook? Good grief. I'm happier now than ever to be an American.
http://wcbstv.com/local/Adam.Wheeler.Delaware.2.1700695.html - who is REALLY at fault here? Let us not forget that obviously someone in admissions did NOT do their job.
http://www.cnn.com/2010/SHOWBIZ/Movies/05/19/lindsay.lohan.court/index.html?hpt=T2 - Give it up Lindsay - you're just a fuck up through and through. Seriously. I looked it up in Websters and there was an 8x10 glossy of you.
http://www.cnn.com/2010/HEALTH/05/18/postpartum.dads/index.html?hpt=Sbin - Oh for God's sake. When the fuck will men stop being such drama queens and vying for center stage all the fucking time? WHEN?
http://www.cnn.com/2010/US/05/19/new.york.kennedy.arrest/index.html?npt=NP1 - really? Now there's a shocker.
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