As some of you may know, my momma is in
This means that I’m all alone in my big house once Andy leaves for work.
This means that I’m washing my hair with my eyes open when I’m in the shower because I ain’t no Janet Leigh (in more ways than one, she was hawt!) and refuse to let some psycho with a knife make button holes on my body. Just seems like something I would want to avoid at all costs, you know?
Anyway. I usually leave the attack dogs on the loose so they may alert me of any intruders. This works as follows, Mocha barks her head off letting Tazz know that he has a tasty morsel on his turf. Tazz then goes and digs out his bib so he may dig in and savor any ruffians that happen to make the wrong decision by coming into his home. Burglar butt is his absolute favorite!
Christmas Eve, however, Andy had put Tazz in his kennel before he left and I was making banana pudding (not slang for anything, I was ACTUALLY making banana pudding) and then hurrying up to take a shower, I was too busy to let him back out of his kennel. Sooooo my only line of defense was that nutty airhead who would rather be petted than attack anybody.
I’m in the shower, singing my FALALALALAs with the radio blasting, when I hear Mocha go nuts. Odd, but she will also bark at dust bunnies, not that I have any ::wink::, so I’m not too worried until I hear Tazz’s malevolent growling and him throwing himself against his kennel making it rattle furiously.
I turn off the radio and listen intently.
I HEAR FOOTSTEPS!
The one day I kennel Tazz the Carnivorous is the one day intruders decide to steal my cool stuff!
Now I have to hurry up and rinse off so I may get dressed before I go investigate. I really don’t want to die naked, just don’t want that on my tombstone “here lies Bee, died in the shower with her white butt face up”.
Once I dried myself, I decided to put on lotion. The cold is making my skin too dry. Okay, clothes on… I should really brush my hair too. If I survive, I don’t want it to get all weird and frizzy.
Uh… since I’m brushing my hair, I might as well put makeup on. You know, in case I have to talk my way out of being reunited with Elvis, I want to look my best.
Then I notice Tazz isn’t growling anymore. He’s more like muttering. Mocha isn’t barking either but that could be because they distracted her with a cookie. Bitch!
I call out to Mocha BEFORE unlocking the door and NOTHING.
Okay, I have to make my way out there but I should call my sister and have her on the line in case she needs to call nine-one-one. This isn’t the first time she will be my lifeline in case of death. I once went to open The Chicken place and found the back door wide open. I called my sister and told her to listen while I walked around the joint with a machete looking for intruders. True story.
I grab my phone, yes I take it into the bathroom with me TRACY, notice I have a text message, decide to read it (kicking thievery ass can wait 2 minutes) and almost pass out with relief because it reads “I got the box ;)
I know that message means nothing to you guys but to me it means my sister drove to my house at the buttcrackofdawn to pick up a package her MIL had sent from the great big
She obviously didn’t trust me so she decided to make me die of fright instead!
I won’t lie to you, I am a little pissed but ultimately happy that it was her instead of a burglar. Especially because the only things I could have used to defend myself would have been my hairbrush and bleach spray. Bleach spray is way too expensive.
If there are any lowlife thieves reading this, I also have nunchucks and a machete so don’t try to come rob this chick.
I just don’t keep them in the bathroom.