How was your Valentine’s Day weekend? Mine was a bowl of chocolate covered cherries!
It started with me getting probed and scolded by an old fogey who then billed me 860 bucks. I gotta say, I’ve had better!
The old fogey was my eye doctor. It turns out I’m a huge pain in the ass to examine because I have the eyesight of a deaf bat (get it? because bats navigate by bouncing their screeching off of solid objects?)(whatever) so he has to work extra hard to make his $80 visit fee.
Tell you what. If I made 80 bucks for a 20 minute appointment, and I didn’t have to take my pants off to do it, I’d be thanking my lucky stars I have patients who can’t see 2 feet in front of them instead of making them feel like pig vomit.
And! As I said before, my bill came up to $860 for contacts and new glasses so Hello! How about a little fuckin sensitivity Dr. Grim!
Anyway, after the eye exam, that felt more along the lines of a proctology exam, we headed over to visit my brother-in-law
Unfortunately, this is also a sad occasion for me. You see, because I own an iPod and have a smartphone, Andy seems to think I also have all the answers as to WHY his phone isn’t turning on or why he can’t access the internet RIGHTNOW or why it can’t tie his shoelaces while he tap dances. I had to keep repeating that
A) I don’t have an iPhone, never have, therefore am unfamiliar with its idiosyncrasies
B) I am not an iPhone tech moonlighting as his wife
C) I HATE APPLES (get it? because the iPhone is an Apple product?)(whatever man, I’m done with you!)
I swear, if our marriage has survived relatives*, financial difficulties, Tazz and floods, you’d figure technology would be a breeze but if I have to hear “Bee! My phone won’t turn on! FIX IT!” one more time… let’s leave that blank, shall we? I don’t want to incriminate myself in case I’m the prime suspect in an unrelated atomic wedgie incident where a masked
WOMAN person came in and pulled Andy’s unders over his ears.
Other than that, the damn thing is awesome and I can’t wait until they come out with a red one.
On Monday, we had another guy come out to give us an estimate on the underground water tunnel we want to build under our house. This guy was older than the first one and seemed to think that women and construction terms don’t mix. He kept telling me that maybe he should wait for my husband to come home so he may explain the SCARY details to him. I told him he could take a seat right here! and explain it to me since I had my handy dandy pink pen to take notes and after all, women had a long history of taking notes from MEN so I’m sure I’ll be okay. By the way, can you please tell me how deep and how wide the hole will be? Big enough to stash an old guy’s body??
He changed his mind, it must have been my menacing growl, and decided to strain my little woman brain with all those technical details like PVC pipe, drainage tiles… water.
In his defense, he did say one of their inspectors was a woman and “she really knows her stuff!” Look at us being all equal and shit! Will wonders never cease?
To tell you the truth, after listening to both quote guys, I think I can knock out the sump pump installation myself and save myself a few grand. Maybe buy some more shoes.
I started my Spring cleaning yesterday. I once read somewhere that dust was just dead skin so I’m currently looking to make a 30 person sculpture from all the dead skin I’ve accumulated since Christmas. I’m thinking of calling it “ZomBee Army” and I’ll give them power tools as weapons. Or maybe I can make them dig my underground moat and save myself money AND labor.
I think that’s all for now… oh yeah! Did you guys hear about the fireball in the
*if you are one of my relatives and are currently thinking “WTF! I’m in the same category as a flood???” no, no! Of course not. ... ...
My Valentine (me) gave me an awesome purse and a pair of stylin' shoes.
I also wanted to let everybody know that I love my Andy more than I do all the purses and shoes I own (and even future ones that haven't been made yet). I joke about our unconventional relationship but I could not have found a better man, believe me I did look long and hard before I chose him and I do believe he can do better by finding himself a nice sweet, never-gives-him-trouble type of gal but he's decided to stick with little OLD me. He puts up with my lack of control when it comes to my temper and I put up with all of his weirdness. We are like mustard and ketchup. With me being the mustard, I guess?