Ahhh El Amor IS Blind!

You know how sometimes men and women can happily co-exist and then sometimes all their differences are as glaringly apparent as an orange backpack on a neon blue shoed man?

Last night, as we were getting ready for bed, Andy complained about having something in his eye. I myself have been the recipient of little splinters playing tag in my eyeball due to my eyeliner pencil (because I buy the cheap 99¢ pencils that are probably made in China and poisoning me slowly) so I know how irritating it can be. I did my best to offer my sympathy and help. Unfortunately for the both of us, Andy wasn’t in last night. In his stead was Captain Unreasonable whose evil super power is a deafening roar.

I know we women are always making fun of the lack of pain tolerance our men have. We will sip coffee and commiserate on how the poor little bunnies had the sniffles or how they stubbed their toe and dropped to the floor wailing in pain. Breaks your heart, really.

Captain Unreasonable wanted my help but he didn’t want to tolerate my questions or my presence.

CU:
This thing is burning BURNING!

Bee:
Do you know what’s in there?

CU:
NO! ROOOOOAR!

Bee:
Did you let your eye tear up so that it could flush out?

CU:
IT HAS BEEN TEARING ALL DAY! ROOOOOOOAAAAAR!!

Bee:
Okaaaay.

We went to bed where Captain Unreasonable tossed and turned and I read Marley & Me. He finally couldn’t stand it anymore so he got up.

CU:
ROOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRR!

Bee:
Are you going to try and rinse it out?

CU:
I’M GOING TO TRY, BEE!

Bee:
::sigh::

CU:
I need tweezers!

I get out of bed so that I may locate the tweezers.

CU:
Are they rubber tipped?

Bee [thinks ‘what the fuck?’]:
Uhm, no.

CU:
THEN THEY WON’T WORK! ROOOOOAAAR!

Bee:
Can you see where it is clearly? [because I have long nails, you see. Maybe I could be the rubber tipped human tweezers]

CU:
OF COURSE I CAN! ROOOAR! ROOOOAAAAR! ROOOOOOAAAARRRRR!

I finally gave up trying to help because, if I wanted to have my head chewed off, I would staple raw steak to my ass and throw myself in a lion’s den slathered in BBQ sauce.

I went to bed and kept reading Marley & Me, which WTF? why did I torture myself? Did you guys know the freakin' dog dies at the end? It brought back all the memories of every dog that has been my faithful companion in my 36 years on Earth.

As I’m trying not to sob, Andy, I MEAN, Captain Unreasonable was slamming drawers and cabinets looking for these mythical rubber tipped tweezers.

He finally came to bed, angry that I hadn’t used my super healing powers to cure him.

The next morning (today day of the lord Tuesdayeth), he asked me for a magnifying glass. Huh? I thought I was dreaming and had forgotten Captain Unreasonable had made an appearance so I jokingly said:

“Don’t worry babe, it’s big enough”

CU:
ROOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!!!!

Bee:
[mumbles] SHIT.
No, I don’t know where it is.

CU:
I can never find anything in this fucking house!

Bee:
Do you want me to make you an appointment with an ophthalmologist?

CU:
What does an ophthalmologist do?

Bee:
They are eye doctors.

CU:
What’s he gonna do?

Bee:
Is that a ‘no’?

CU:
I DON’T KNOW, BEE! We’ll see later today!

Bee:
[mumbles] That’s right. Don’t look to fix the problem. It’s better to complain.

CU:
WHAT????

Bee:
I said HAVE A GOOD DAY!

I finally went over his head and made him an appointment with Dr. Grim. He’s not an ophthalmologist but I’m sure he can pull Captain Unreasonable’s nose hairs until he cries that little piece of whatsit out of his eye.

I’m also thinking I need to buy a first aid kit and stock it with random objects that may come in handy. Magnifying glass, rubber tipped tweezers, yellow highlighter, staple remover, paper clip, ear plugs…

Babe, if you happen to be reading my blog today of all days, I’m not mocking you, I’m mocking Captain Unreasonable. Besides, I’m just kidding and I feel your pain! Poor little bunny.

I am going to surgically attach my cell to my wrist because that way I will never ever miss important photo opportunities like big yellow-red rats mocking PETA.

Have I ever told you guys how defenseless I feel when I forget my cellphone? I constantly find myself reaching for the spot where it usually rests on my desk. I would have taken a picture of the spot but I forgot my cellphone.

You see, my cell is no longer something I just make phone calls with. Since I no longer have access to the internet at work (which sucks because I can no longer harass Brian and jean knee while I’m at work so now they go on about their lives in peace and who wants that???), I check my email on it, read my favorite blogs, AND take pictures of interesting things.

On Friday, I forgot it at home. And what happens??? Across the street from my office some dudes inflated a giant rat! A giant scary rat with fangs and claws ready to eat you up! This thing was huge and not really lifelike because it was yellow and red but it still had a menacing look to him.

We stood in front of the window wondering what they were advertising using a rat. They had inflated it near some apartment building so one of the bats said, “maybe they’re trying to advertise vacant apartments” and I was like “with a rat?? ‘Hi! Come live here, we have rats!’ No, I doubt it.”

Then, when the coffee made me smurt, I figured out they weren't advertising, they were protesting something. Unfortunately, we couldn’t make out what the signs said and I was too lazy to walk over, the street is one of the busiest in the area, so I just came up with different scenarios in my head.

-They were protesting Scarecrow's very short shorts because hello? It’s Casual Friday not Hoochie Dress Up Day. I know some older women can pull it off but picture the old tanned lady from Something about Mary. Only more wrinkly.

- They were protesting PETA's obsession with eating rocky mountain oyster. Seriously, PETA! You guys are sick!

- They were protesting because I haven't gotten a raise in my allowance in 3 years. We need to know why! I've done all most of my chores!

- They were protesting Milton's constant criticizing on their disorganized protest. "They should hold the signs up higher! They should have printed bigger signs! I can't read what they say! Why is that man on his cellphone?? He doesn't seem too interested in his protest!" and so on.

I was upset with myself for not having my phone so I may photo document this exciting event but I think I came up with a solution so that you may experience what I was seeing semi-first hand.

I was originally going to draw it for you but my drawing looked like cavemen chasing a chia pet so I recreated it with things around my house.

Okay, here we have that big dragon thing representing the rat, a couple of Bonsai trees representing the trees, flowers representing flowers, Betty Boop in her smoking convertible representing cars driving by and honking their support, the 2 Mexican ladies, Han Solo and Pinocchio representing the protestors.

Here is a close up.

Here is an aerial view taken from the Bee chopper in the sky. I don't know what that mini bottle of Tabasco sauce is doing there. Maybe it was left there after their lunch?

We never did find out what they were protesting and they left before I got out of work but I saw Norm talking to them and I'm sure he'll give me the full scoop on Monday.

P.S.

The Sunday Comic should be back next Sunday. We have been a tad busy but I'm planning on making Andy drink nothing but Red Bull this week so his slacking days are over!

So… did you guys know Michael Jackson died?

I’m sure there are a million and one websites reporting, mocking, mourning him and I really hate jumping on bandwagons but in this case, I’d like to share my memories of the King of Pop. I know most people are tired of all the coverage and I've seen some comments about people wondering why his death is getting so much attention. To them I have to say, the man's career spanned decades. If you're surprised the media is going bananas we obviously haven't been living on the same planet.

I wasn't around when Elvis died... wait. Was I? Hold on. Wiki says he died in 1977 so I was about 4ish almost 5 so I don't remember if there was a pilgrimage to Graceland but I'm sure he had about the same amount of coverage as MJ. Well, it was 1977 so people had to settle for news via the pony express. Maybe I should warn you now that when Madonna goes to the big whorehouse in the sky we will be talking about it for weeks. Prepare yourselves, m'mkay?

Anyway.

Like a typical preteen, I had my crushes on famous people or fictional characters. You know, Luke Skywalker, Templeton Peck AKA Face, Bugs Bunny but my first real crush was on Michael Jackson.

My family never had much money. We lived in a 2 bedroom apartment and only had what was necessary and sometimes even less but, every once in a while, my mom would use some of the money she had squirreled away so she could buy us a special treat. In my case, it was my very first cassette tape.

I loved every single song on that tape. My love of MJ infected my little brother, Rick, who was only 2 at the time but he learned every song and imitated his dance moves better than Alfonso Riberio himself (Carlton for us Fresh Prince fans). Little guy could moon walk and Ahh-hee-hee! with the best of ‘em!

I remember when the video for Thriller was set to debut. I put in all necessary requisition forms to have the one TV we owned to myself that night. I sat Rick on my lap and we waited for our idol to take the stage. Rick sat quietly while the video was on and as soon as it was over, I went to put him down but he turned around and wrapped his arms around me, terrified. Awww so cute! Okay, in hindsight, it probably wasn’t a good idea to let a 2 year old watch a video about zombies or werewolves or monsters but I was 12 so give me a break!

I wasn’t one of those kids who collected every little thing that had MJs picture on it but only because we were broke. I did, however, have 2 giant posters and a couple of flea market t-shirts that were worn to the point of being threadbare. Oh! I also had a white vinyl jacket that resembled the one he wore in the Thriller video. Don't ask me why I didn't get a red one. Maybe they only had that color at the flea market. Maybe my mom thought white was better to sweat in in the hot California sun? Another mystery of the universe.

I have this one clear memory of being in my friend Nurselizy’s room* while PYT played and both of us singing at the top of our lungs.

♪♫ I want to love you! PYT! pretty young thing! ♪♫

Of course now people will read more into those lyrics than our innocent minds could have predicted.

As my life changed and music changed and Madonna hit the scene (Shout out to Angel Darling with Borderline!), my MJ tape didn’t get much play but to this day, I hear Beat It, Billy Jean and, going back some, Rock with you and I can’t help but sing along. I still remember all the words to the spoken part of Thriller and often imitate the laugh at the end when I want to scare the dogs. Strangely, they don’t seem to care.

I admit to judging him and ridiculing some of his decisions, ummm once your nose starts looking life a pimple maybe you want to stop with the surgeries, but as Rick and I were talking about him yesterday, I realized I felt pity for him too. I'm not one of those weirdos who was standing outside his home and swaying with my eyes closed because I didn't really know the dude and even if I had, I'm really not much of a swayer but I enjoyed going down memory lane to a more innocent time in my life.

All the Michael talk got my niece Natalia (6) wondering who the heck this Michael Jackson was so she decided to listen to the songs that were being played on TV (she scolded my mom when she wanted to change the channel so she may watch her novelas). Her favorite one so far? Jellybean. Yup. Jellybean or as we know it, Billy Jean.

When I came home from work, she had a special drawing she made of Mr. Jackson himself:

Out of the mouths of babes. (out of the mouth of babes?)

*(I also remember us singing to “Up Side Down” by Diana Ross ♪♫ Up Side Down! boy you turn me, inside out and round n’ round♪♫ )(those were the jams!)

Update on Mistaken Identity of THE WORST KIND.

OZ called in for messages, he is out of the office until Monday (because he has money and a boat and no need to work anymore), and he asked to speak to me. We were all shocked. He never asks to speak to anybody but Glynda because the rest of us only exist when he needs his lunch, coffee, tea, prunes-.

My hand was shaking when I picked up the phone because I was not ready to speak to him so soon after the horrible mental image of someone who looked similar to me hanging out with my boss. He told me the patient had confessed he mistook me for his NIECE and he was sorry if I had been embarrassed. The man did not even stutter.

I told him all was good and let’s please never EVER speak of this again. I, on the other hand, did stutter. I am also upset that my pasty white skin may account for the fact that people think OZ and I are related (BECAUSE WE ARE GOING WITH THE NIECE STORY, PEOPLE!). I need a tan. Or maybe chocolate.

So, let’s all pretend it was his NIECE so that I may be able to sleep at night and not have the recurring nightmare of being chased around the room by Philip Seymour Hoffman* in drag.

*Because OZ and PSH could be identical twins.

p.s.

We were subjected to the pubes on the toilet seat talk again today. I told Glynda it was summertime so maybe people were shedding? Or molting?

STILL SHIVERING!

Mistaken identity of the WORST kind!

Weird encounter with patient I had never met while on my way to the bathroom.

Patient:
Hey there sweetheart! Long time no see!

Bee:
Uh hi. [trying not to appear rude while I start walking towards the front door][then thinking it would be more rude to stand in a puddle]

Patient:
It’s hot out there today. I wonder if it’s going to be like that all summer!

Bee [starting to wiggle]:
Yeah hot summer.

Patient:
Is your father here yet or is he on his way?

Bee [freeze say what??]:
My father? I’m sorry, what?

Patient:
You’re dad is he here yet?

Bee [looking around whahuh?]:
I’m wondering who you think my father is.

Patient:
Isn’t it OZ?

Bee  (:-O :
Oh hell no! I mean nooooo. He’s just my boss.

Patient:
Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you said he was your dad.

Bee:
Honestly sir, I don’t think I’ve ever met you.

Patient:
Sure you’ve met me. At that restaurant? When you were having dinner with OZ?

Bee:
EWWWWWWW! No! You definitely have me confused with somebody else.

Patient:
Oh hey. Maybe we should forget this conversation ever took place.

Bee:
Easy for you to say! I’m now going to have nightmares!

I walked back to my desk and Milton asked me why I looked like I was about to throw up.

This encounter freaked me out for a couple of reasons. One is the fact that I resemble someone OZ was ““having dinner with”” because he only has SONS! The other is the fact that I have an urge to peel my skin right off and then dunk myself in acid. ::shiver::

STILL SHIVERING!

♪♫ Saturday in the park... think it was the fist of a fly. ♪♫

Despite all the sore bones and blisters (Sore Bones & Blisters would make an awesome band name), we had a great time on Saturday. We hosted the whole family for a thank you extravaganza and had some yummy food prepared by yours truly. Everything went smoothly until the end where I accidentally knocked over the guacamole dish, NO, I WAS NOT DRUNK, and then all hell broke loose.

Tazz, knowing my mom makes the best guacamole in the world, ran to claim his share. We tried to stop him because of the pesky glass that could rip his stomach open and he was not pleased. His goal then became to take a piece out of every living person around him and he lived up to his Lhasa Apso Tibetan ancestry. A vicious Tazz is a scary and formidable sight. And he will live to be about 140. That's uh hold on, let me get a calculator... ... ... 20 in human years. I also discovered that he may suffer from macular degeneration in the near future and if you’re thinking this will give us the perfect opportunity to escape his attacks, you would be wrong since they do not rely on their eyesight to attack things which piss them off. Mostly Andy.

After everybody had left, Andy and I decided to go see The Hangover (<--preview) for its last showing of the evening. As most of you may know, Andy and I usually hit the movies on Sundays at predawn so we may take advantage of the cheapest priced tickets and also the lack of obnoxious teenagers and howly kids. The theater will usually only have about 10 people including us and that’s how we like it but we figured that if we went Saturday night, we would have most of Sunday to just sit around and get moldy.

We got into the car in the cover of darkness, said a little prayer and left the safety of our driveway. Shivering.

Once at the theater, we bought our tickets and nachos with no unusual incidents other than this geeky guy walking around with an orange backpack and neon blue shoes. What the hell kind of combination is that? There were only a handful of people in the theater so I thought it would be a nice, harmless experience. The feeling didn’t last though because people kept walking in, including Mr. Orange Backpack Neon Blue Shoes, and sitting close enough where I could smell what they had for dinner.

About 10 minutes into the movie, two men were having a discussion about how best to handle a phone call.

One guy said “Hang up the phone asshole or I’m gonna go over and hang it up for you!”

I thought that was reasonable.

Douchebag:
I’m on a call!

Hero:
You have 30 seconds to hang up the fucking phone!

Douchebag:
30 seconds? Cool. That should be enough time to finish my call [to person on the phone] So anyway—

Hero:
HANG UP THE PHONE OR I’ll TAKE YOU OUTSIDE!

Douchebag:
Take me outside? Are we in a movie? Pfft! He's gonna take me outside!

Hero [stood up and went to sit next to El Douche]:
You gonna keep talking?

Douchebag:
This is harassment!

And in what can only be called a beautiful display of unity, (almost) EVERYONE IN THE THEATER:
Both of you SHUT THE FUCK UP!

They both left.

I made sure I had my running shoes on in case I needed to haul ass out of there. Although, I had just had a Mike’s Hard Lemonade so maybe I would have stayed and rumbled.

When we were leaving the movie theater, there was a 70 year old couple exiting the aisle. The man was laughing but the woman was admonishing him for doing so.

Old lady:
Why are you laughing? That was the stupidest movie I have ever seen!

Old dude:
No. It was very amusing.

Old lady:
What is wrong with you??

And as soon as we were out of earshot Andy and I started laughing because we knew exactly what scenes had offended her. I’m not telling you what they are since it would ruin the movie's shockingness. All in all, we still think that old couple is pretty cool for venturing out at that late hour without being afraid of the night crawlies.

Going to a late movie was a nice adventure but I don't thing we'll be repeating that experience any time soon.

Oh yeah, there was one heartbreaking moment on Saturday. I found my first grey hair. Wait. Did you hear me? I, Bee Still-young-person, have discovered a horrific silver hair amongst my beautiful multicolored (because I have way too many different shades of brown, some black and even ORANGE) locks.

This whole getting old thing is unacceptable.

How big are mothballs? Get it? Moth BALLS?? I crack myself up!

We finally found the SOURCE of the moths. It seems my front coat storage closet has been their home for quite a while. I think I saw a hot tub in there.

The discovery was like something out of a Hitchcock horror flick. I went to put away a couple of my purses and when I opened the door, there were about 10 moths still as can be, probably waiting to attack me at just the right moment. Lucky for me, my reflexes are finely tuned when it comes to bugs so I valiantly screamed and closed the door in one quick move.

I looked up ways to kill moths (besides swatting them I mean, or drowning them, or burning them)(PETA STAY AWAY I don't really burn moths) and I couldn't find anything even remotely helpful. We decided to try mothballs but after we brought them home, we read the instructions and I am now fearing for my life because the stupid warnings say not to let that crap touch your skin and here I rolled them in my hands and played dice with them!

I put a few in the closet and closed the door but I can smell them where I'm sitting and I'm about 14 feet away. Right now I'm trying to decide which is worse. Constantly battling moths or the smell of poisoned old lady house.

My eyes are burning. Maybe I have some moth genes in me. Maybe I have moth balls. Get it? It's a good thing you cant see me right now because you'd be wondering what the hell I'm on.

Also, I remember when I was a little kid I did some experiment with moth balls and uh something else for a school science project. I can't remember what it was about and I'm too stoned to google it but if those suckers are that poisonous, why didn't anybody warn me? Can I sue my teacher? Only I don't remember what grade I was in or what state I was living in and maybe what planet I was on. Seriously, should I get rid of those things? Cameron Diaz is playing a mom on her next movie. It's about time they gave her an age appropriate role. She still looks great but I don't need to keep seeing her underroo covered hiney dancing around. The word hiney makes me laugh. Oh lord! Emiio Esteves is like 400 pounds! I think that's Emilio Estevez. I'm watching Burn Unit. No, that can't be him!

Little side convo:

Bee:

Andy! I spelled Hitchcock wrong! And then I realized--

Andy:

How did you spell it?

Bee:

H-i-t-c-o-c-k-- but that's when I realized--

Andy:

That's not how it's spelled!

Bee:

I know! I'm trying to say that's when I realized his name is HITCH-COCK!

Andy:

Yeaaaaaaah? What are you saying? He should have changed his name?

Bee:

Yeah to uhm Tetherpenis or maybe Strappenis hahahahahahaha

Andy:

... That's not funny.

Bee:

It's not? Oh. Never mind then.

Whatever, I thought it was funny.

If somebody knows if that was Emilio Estevez on Burn Unit or just some dude that looks just like him, let me know. I'm tired of thinking. Stay tuned tomorrow.I'm sharing our experience at a late night viewing of The Hangover.

Here I sit.

Today I was going to do a post about how Andy and I were going to see "The Hangover". It was going to be very funny. Okay, maybe it would have been only mildly amusing. However, the sever thunderstorms that hit Chicagoland had a different plan for me.

I had just gotten off the phone with my mom who had informed me there was no water coming into her floor. Awesome!

After all the money and time spent on repairing her place it was nice to hear. I felt pretty good about my day. OZ is still on vacation so I'd have no meeting and I'd be able to leave at 3 and pick up some tacos from the delicious El Famous Burrrrrrito on my way home. Just as I was about to hit publish on Andy's and mine debate on whether we should see "The Hangover" on Sunday (like we always do but he has some reservations because he does not want to watch a raunchy movie on God's day) or Friday evening (which I was against due to my fear of THE TEENAGERS) when I got the dreaded call.

Water was coming in.

I left work to help my mom with what I could. It wasn't like last year were our sump pump went out so loads of water just gushed in. The guys installed a new sump earlier this year and the old one is working great so we just had to focus on sweeping the water that was coming in from under the fuckin bathtub. It seems there is a big gaping hole that needs to be fixed. Guess what the next project is?

Do you guys know how absolutely depressing it is to keep going from one room to the next sweeping water into a hole and then coming back to find it EXACTLY AS BEFORE. Like if you hadn't even spent time sweating your ass off a few minutes ago and swearing at your shoes because they were wet and making your feet hurt.

Here I sit with a blister the size of mount fuckin everest on my hand from the non stop sweeping (of course my mom had to say that by now I should have calluses if only I cleaned my house more often but then I told her I was going to dunk her in the pit so she stopped the mocking) wondering why I was going to post about something so trivial as a movie.

The irony? Tomorrow I'm hosting a BBQ to show our appreciation to everybody who helped with the repairs. I just hope I have enough happy pills to keep me from collapsing because I am at the end of my rope right now. I also have no clue how I'm gonna be flipping the steaks since Blister is bitching at me every time I click the mouse. A reasonable person would let somebody else cook but I don't trust anybody near my grill.

Well, I'm off to make a voodoo doll of the asswipe who sold us our house and never mentioned the water issues. First I will shrink his ears, left leg and right nostril. Then I will let Tazz have at his crotch. May he rot in hell.

Oh yeah! Happy Father's Day to all you good dads out there!

I can't blog today because Andy poopy head is making me clean.

So today Andy noticed that our home has been getting messier and sloppier and smellier and uh well, it was bad, Jerry!

He didn't say "CLEAN THE HOUSE SERVANTWOMAN!!" or anything deathwish like that. No. It was more like "hmmmm the house seems to have taken a turn for the worse since your mom moved downstairs." This made me jump outta my chair and start going through stacks of DUSTY newspapers, junk mail, magazines EMPTY YOGURT CONTAINERS-- what? and do the dishes because I do not want him to find out that the Susie homemaker houswife who had our house spotless was... my mommy.

Right now I'm supposedly ""cleaning"" the bathroom but as you can see, I am doing a post via Scarlett's email capabilities. Andy is clueless though. Although, he might question the fact that I brought a beer into the bathroom... IT'S NOT GROSS! Everyone knows alcohol kills all germs! Besides, I can't eat pretzels without drinking beer. Now you're judging me again!

Oh oh! Tazz just opened the door! He's probably looking to huff some cleaning products. Damn junkie!

Laters gators.  

Peter picked a pile of pickled hos.

I was sitting at my desk, typing my own business, when Scarecrow came and told me she had a funny story that she knew I would appreciate because I, me, myself am such a great story teller. I cut her off and asked her to please tell me more about how great I am before I let her continue with her ““funny”” story.

Here is what she told me:

The other day I made pickles but I wanted to get them out of my house so I took some to both my mom and my mother-in-law and my minivan smelled like pickles all day even though I bought an air freshener!

[I waited for the punch line]

[I scratched my head and stuck my pinkie in my ear because it was itchy]

[I looked at the time and wondered how many lollipops I could stuff in my mouth without drooling]

[I finally had to ask…]

Is that it?

Scarecrow:
Yeah. Isn’t it funny?

Bee:
Tell ya' what I’m gonna do for you. I am going to overhaul your story so that when you tell it to people, you get a couple of chuckles.  (Yeah, I have that much of an ego.) Ready?

Scarecrow:
Okay.

Bee:
— I made some pickles this weekend only to realize I had more than my husband and children would ever eat, I don’t like pickles you see, so I decided to give some to my mom and mother-in-law. Despite the forecast for cool weather, the day was hot n’ humid and as a result they were particularly eh… pungent. Okay lets be honest they STUNK like a $4 dollar hooker with a hangover on a summer day!

[wait for snickers here]

I opened my windows and drove merrily singing to Dr. Dre's’ “Nuthin' But A 'G' Thang"—

Scarecrow:
What song is that?

Bee:
It doesn’t have to be that song but pick one that would be bizarre hearing you sing.

— Even though the smell was overpowering, I imagined the pleasure my moms would have when eating their pickles so I tried to breathe through my mouth. Besides, once I delivered them, the smell would leave my car, right? WRONG!

The scent clung to every fiber of my minivan with the tenacity of a koala bear on peyote.—

Scarecrow:
Koala Bear?

Bee:
It doesn’t have to make sense.

— I stopped at a nearby Walgreen’s and bought a piña colada air freshener in the hopes that the coconut would drive the smell away but the only thing it did was have me daydreaming of rum.

[wait for applause here]

Scarecrow:
I didn’t know you didn’t like pickles!

Bee:
::sigh:: I love pickles but I know YOU don’t like pickles and you have to make people aware of that fact so they know why the smell of them would drive you insane.

Scarecrow:
Oh. I don’t think I can remember all that but I’ll try it.

[later in the day]

Scarecrow [to PD]:
I bought a piña colada air freshener because my minivan smelled like a hooker covered in pickle juice!

And that, my friends, made me laugh.

Mondays and I are like 2 pigeons having a pissing contest.

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"Bee n' Andy: Married and sometimes, still in love..." - I heart Home Depot!

  

War— I mean WORK stories.

It’s been a while since I regaled you with the adventures of Arkham Asylum. Today we will feature:

Milton (female), the bookkeeper (one of my favorites).

Scarecrow, the spastic x-ray tech.

Purple Dino-SOUR, the world’s most useless human.

And because I do like to mock myself from time to time, Bee, the cool chick.

When last we left Arkham, the biddies were devising new ways to mentally torture our favorite character, Bee.

Milton

Milton:
Do you know who threw out the green scott brite dish sponge?

Bee:
The ugly dingy one that no longer made suds and was even oily and black?

(That's not it. It looks better than the one I threw away)

Milton:
Yeah, that one.

Bee:
No.

[I actually had it wrapped in a paper towel in my purse. I know that sounds weird but this thing was revolting and she was using it to wash the forks and spoons I use to eat my food. Which means they go in my mouth. I couldn’t throw it away in any of the garbage cans because…]

Milton:
I looked in the garbage cans and it’s not in any of them. They had to have thrown it out at some point yesterday before the cleaning crew came.

[… I knew she would dig through the garbage so I had grabbed it that morning before she came in and stuffed it in my purse. It’s scary how well I know my bats]

Bee:
I’ll bring you a new one from home. That one was beyond disgusting. It probably already had a micro civilization complete with skyscrapers and Al Gore.

Milton:
You guys are too delicate. At home, I can go months without replacing the sponge.

[after I swallowed my bile, I made a mental note not to eat at Milton’s house.]

Scarecrow

Bee [on the phone with a patient while both the receptionist and her back up, PD, were on vacation]:
We have an opening tomorrow if you’d like to come in then, Mrs.—.

Scarecrow [in such a loud whisper I wouldn’t be surprised if Brian heard her]:
Oh no! Not Mrs.—! We do not want to see Mrs.—!

Bee:
We will see you on Friday Mrs.—. [I slowly turned to look at Scarecrow and she almost seemed to shrink before my eyes] May I see you in the chartroom for a minute?

Scarecrow:
I-I-I have to go look for a chart.

Bee:
Well, you can start in the chartroom!

I dragged her boney ass in there and proceeded to tell her how unprofessional she was to not only say such things about a patient while I’m on the phone with her but to say it in front of other patients in the waiting room. I told her that while I was the substitute receptionist she was NOT going to behave in such a manner on my watch! Her response?

Scarecrow:
W-w-would you like me to bring you a cup of coffee?

I think she was trying to show me her underbelly as a sign of submission but I ain’t taking any chances in her spitting in my precious coffee.

Purple Dino-SOUR

As I said before, both Cowardly Lion (the receptioist)  and PD were on vacation so the next person in line to play receptionist was lil’ ole me. Why the hell they stuck me as the receptionist is beyond me since I am clearly not a people person! Usually when PD goes on her yearly jaunts to Le Florida, I get to work her desk and mine. However! These were special circumstances. I had never done a 2 day stint as the merry phone lady so I figured PD’s desk could rot for all I cared.

Would you believe this bubble head came in and threw a tantrum because her desk looked like somebody had replaced it with mine?

PD:
Did you run claims for me last week?

Bee:
No, I was hoping the elves would come in and do it for you since I was too busy trying to do my job and be receptionist at the same time.

PD:
I can’t get all this done in one week!

Bee:
So hey? How was your vacation? I haven’t taken one in 2 years and this is your third this year.

PD:
I have worked here 18 years! Don’t I deserve to take a vacation?

Bee:
Of course you do! You need time off from the 5 hour 3 days a week job you have. I’d be exhausted too but nobody does my work when I go away to sunbathe in the nude.

PD:
::gasp!::  [stalks off to complain to her fellow bubble heads]

Bee

First up.

For those of you keeping score, I was KM a couple of weeks ago so I brought in a healthy veggie tray with dip and some chocolate and blueberry muffins. Those rotten old ladies did not eat any of my snacks so I wound up having to throw out the veggies because they grew moldy. The muffins were enjoyed by my family so that was okay but what the hell!

This week I had a plan. I was not going to eat any of the treats Toto brought in as a sign of protest. I wanted them to feel all hurt and achy inside just like I did when they didn’t eat my goodies. Come with me as I give you peek into my head.

Bee [all in my head]:
Hmmm she brought 2 types of coffee cake. I don’t care what kind she brought I AM NOT HAVING ANY!

Oh, one is open custard [mouth drooling] and the other is Bavarian chocolate chip [drool spilling onto my shirt]… NO! ooh! She brought colby-jack cheese too! Maybe I’ll just have a little piece— NO!! Oh dear lord! She brought the dip she knows I love! She did this on purpose just to torture me! She’s met her match because I will resist the temptation—

Who am I kidding? I have no self control when it comes to snackies.

And to end things with a golden brush of dumbass...

I requested a copy of our contract from a big name insurance company. They faxed it over and I made 3 copies but for some reason I thought the contract they faxed had print on both sides of the page so I had to redo the copies and make them two sided. We have an old fax machine. Can anyone tell me why I'm a dumbass?

Now you'll know what I sleep in... and it's not a coffin you jerks!

You know what this is?

This is a picture of my warm, cozy pajama bottoms*. I have puppy pjs, moon and star pjs and skiing dude pjs. That's right, nothing says sex appeal like fuzzy pajamas!

Normally, around this time of year, they would be tucked away in the far corners of my closet waiting patiently for winter. So far this year I have put them away 3 times but here they are, freshly laundered and ready for me to wear again tonight because the person holding the giant thermostat in the sky has decided we need a few more months of winter. Somebody find that groundhog and fry his ass!

In other news.

As you may remember, I'm still looking for a replacement job because I am fed up with the nuthouse and I'm determined not to turn into a whiney old lady.

I uploaded my resume to Carreer Builders and they send out emails every once in a while with job matches.

Usually they are pretty accurate and I have had a couple of oddball ones but Holy Mother of Moses did they send me a couple of perfect matches!

All in all, a step up from the asylum.

*The PJs are thanks to my awesome little sister.

Well, now we have NO secrets!

So… I had a great weekend! Surprising since my Friday meeting with OZ went down like a bowlful of pickled assholes.

Oh well, at least I have a J-O-B in these tough economic times!

Andy and I went to the Taste of My Town which are events organized by cities for restaurants to flaunt their food. After walking by burgers and pasta, we chose Tai food and sat down to enjoy it.

I was concentrating on my food, wondering if Tai was the blandest of all Asian cuisines, when I noticed Andy staring at me. I know that some men will gaze lovingly at their significant others and wonder how they lucked out in finding such an awesome individual but that’s not how my Andy rolls. Instead I wondered if I had sauce on my face or worse! A boogie!

Bee [wipes face]:

What?

Andy:

Well, it looks like— No, never mind.

Bee:

Tell me! Do I have something on my face?

Andy:

No, it’s just that… I just noticed something.

Bee:

What??? Spit it out man!

Andy:

You have one tiny black hair above your lip.

Bee:

… … I am aware of said hair.

Andy:

Oh. [Continues scrutinizing my face and makes me feel like the first discovered cockroach] Don’t you think it’s weird that you have just that one? I mean, I’m glad it’s only one but it’s still weird. Is it new?

Bee:

::sigh:: No, it’s not new. I normally pluck it but I need a new pair of tweezers.

Andy:

Why do you need a new pair of tweezers? Is it a super-hair? The ones you have aren’t strong enough?

Bee:

Very funny banana head (because his head is shaped like a banana)! I used the one I have to unclog the bathtub drain so it has been demoted.

Andy:

I wonder why I’ve never noticed it before. It’s clearly visible to anyone within a couple of feet from you…

(I usually pluck that offending little sucker as soon as it starts peeking through my follicles but I haven’t had a chance to replace the tweezers.)

Bee:

I think you’ve had too much to drink.

Andy:

What are you talking about? I’m drinking Pepsi.

Bee:

Then I think the sugar has rotted your brain.

He couldn’t understand why I was upset with him. I told him we women study our faces and find microscopic imperfections we obsess about and the last thing I needed was the man in my life to point out one of them while sitting under a tent, amongst strangers, eating Tai-bland food.

I say we start a sensitivity camp for men.

Well, I’m off to make fun of Andy’s feet.

"Bee n' Andy: Married and sometimes, still in love..."- Things that go bump in the night.

"I think I've lost my penis"

As some of you may know, I'm a huge fan of Man vs Wild with Bear Grylls. Well, I watch it because I love to mock the host's obsession with drinking his urine and eating squirrels (I hate squirrels) I was watching it this evening and I haven't laughed so hard since... the last time I laughed so hard (I'm probably just easily amused). If you have a chance to watch it you must do so!

Also, I've invented a new fad diet. Bear Grylls said that in extreme cold, like the arctic, you lose up to 6,000 calories a day. Twice as many as normal. So, who wants to come with me to Antarctica or Siberia? I figure it'll take me about 3 months to lose the weight I want to lose. Okay maybe 6 months. And that's if I lose a whole leg.

And now, a snippet from "Confessions of a Pseudo Receptionist"

Bee (answering the phone):

Good morning, Arkham Asylum.

Old lady:

I WANT TO TALK TO THE DOCTOR!!

Bee:

The doctor isn't in yet, may I take a message--

Old lady:

I SAID!! I WANT TO TALK TO THE DOCTOR!!!!

Bee:

M'am? He is not in yet. Let me take a message--

Old lady (yelling at someone else):

SHE WON'T LET ME TALK TO THE DOCTOR!! I WANT TO TALK TO THE DOCTOR! NOW!

Bee:

If you don't stop yelling, I will hang up on you. He is not in. He comes in at 11 and it is only 9.

Old lady:

WHEN DR. NEVERHEARDOFHIM CALLS ME BACK I AM GOING TO REPORT YOU!

Bee:

That doctor is not in our practice. Do you have the right doctor's office?

Old lady:

OF COURSE I DO! I'M OLD NOT STUPID!

Bee:

That's your opinion.

Old lady:

WHAT??

Bee:

I SAID HE'S NOT IN!

Old lady:

THIS WOMAN DOESN'T KNOW WHAT SHE'S DOING! [CLICK!]

She had the wrong doctor's office but I'm the dumb one. Multiply that shit times 20. I like my job and hate filling in for the receptionist. In my position I can argue, yell and fight with anybody who dares piss me off. As the receptionist, I have to pretend I like people.

Justice is in fact blind.

I was going to do a happy post today but I'm freakin crabby so instead I want to rant a little.

Recently, a lot of Illinois cops have been breaking the law and getting away with it. My respect to all the law enforcement officers that look out for the little guy and risk their lives. However, this is another profession where people become jaded fast. I have had a few run-ins with cops in my life, not because of anything I was doing wrong, and I have to say they disappointed me but I know there are others out there who would have made their badge proud.

We have a couple of fuckwads who are currently on trial for being complete and total scum. One is Drew Peter-son (don't need people coming here by searching his name) who, MURDERED HIS WIVES (yeah yeah innocent until proven guilty but I'm not stupid) and the other is Anthony Abbat-e who beat up a bartender because she... that's right SHE would not serve him anymore.

This man is a 300 pound fat ass who took advantage of his size and yes his badge to throw this woman, who could not be taller than 5'2 and weigh more than 100 pounds, around the bar. He is caught on tape beating her without mercy while his friend and some other drunk bastard watched.

First of all, I don't understand why it's taken this long to finalize this case. What other proof did they need? They found him guilty but now the douchebag is saying he was acting in self defense because the tiny little woman hit him first. Are you fucking kidding me?? That animal fucker not only lacks balls but he is obviously insane!

I really don't know why this story is bothering me so much but it is. The fact that he is a policeman should not give him any special privileges.

A month ago, about 4 cops were declared not guilty in a bar brawl because it was determined that they did not start the fight. Ummmm what the fuck? If you are an off duty cop and some jackhole wants to beat you up, I'm sure you have had proper training that does not involve pummeling your opponent! Or! How about you call other policemen who are on duty so they can arrest them? You can't break the law just because you have a badge. You must be above the rest of the population and have higher standards when it comes to controlling yourselves.

The sad thing is that that Abbat-e douche will probably still collect his pension. What kind of a message does that send to the rest of us who follow the rules?

P.S.

Stay tuned tomorrow for "Confession of a pseudo receptionist"

Also, I just heard in the news that it's going to be about 40 degrees tonight. It is June THIRD!! I already put my winter blankets away and shut off the heat! ::grumblemumblegrumble::

So there we were, sitting on the patio enjoying the afternoon WHEN ALL OF A SUDDEN...

... I saw a frog leaping happily from hither to tither! Everybody was absolutely fascinated with the little creature and we were all oohing and ahing because it jumped right into Andy's hands!

(the bruises on Andy's arm are not from me... maybe)

I'm not into frogs or anything but that was the cutest little croaker I've ever seen!

  awwwwww

All the hardened 30 year olds (and a couple of of hardened 20 something year olds) turned into little kids who wanted to look at it, pet it and hug it and then there were suggestions of keeping it as a pet. I had to shoot down that idea because our fish population is now down to one sad little chromis. Killing stuff just isn't as fun as it used to be.

We also debated whether we should walk it to the river and let it find some new buddies but somebody argued that its family could be somewhere near here and we'd probably launch the next version of Finding Nemo. Only I named the froggie Richard because it had spots. Because then we could nickname it Spotted Dick. So the title of the movie would be Finding Spotted Dick which I guess could be misinterpreted somehow.

Instead Andy set it free in our yard so it could go wherever it was headed before the humans interfered, again! After Andy let Spotted Dick go, I realized I have a lot of frogs in my garden. hmmmm

Anyway, I've been pretty busy beautifying my garden and I think I'm finally at the point where I'm satisfied with my beginner's attempt at landscaping. Unfortunately, the nights have been cold here in Chi-townland so some of my flowers aren't blooming as I'd hoped but I'm sure they'll be okay once the sun finds us again.

Here are pictures of what I've been doing while neglecting my bloglife.

Here is the grass.

Here is the grass with edgers.

Here is the grass minus grass.

Here is the grass with plants minus grass.

Now, I don't know if you know this about me but when I become obsessed with something, I generally don't half-ass it. No, anything that catches my fancy deserves the full attention of my ass in its entirety. I have studied up on what plants would be best for my region. I've wrinkled my brow in thought, made notes while tapping my pen, consulted nursery specialists, tasted the soil, hugged the earth to my bosom... Okay, I may be exaggerating a bit but I did do as much research as I could before selecting the perennials I planted.

Some will attract butterflies and humming birds. Some will be fragrant and others will be colorful but more importantly, some will grow along my fence so that I don't have to look at my neighbor Wilson's makeshift dumpster everyday!

I've never understood why people amass unusable junk. Are you saving the broken toys for spare parts in case you need to build Crapenstein? Is that also why you keep bleach bottles full of what might be blood and urine? And you think the holey tarps will protect your "" treasure ""???

For a couple of summers I had to put up with his grankids peeing on the side of their house, but they stopped when they realized we would laugh hysterically every time they started peeing. Cruel? Do they now probably have issues peeing in public urinals because they are now traumatized? Maybe but this here is war!

Well, that's about it for today.  

Kids are weird.

This is my niece Isabella "" tasting "" her birthday cake.

I don't know what my sister has been teaching her!

Also, happy belated birthday to my friend jean knee! She is the cool chick that makes those awesome cock suckers.

Hope you had a great birthday jean knee!!