Tingly armpits? Maybe, but at least you'll smell good!

Those Hobos know all the tricks!

I was driving to the store today, freezing my buttuckcus because the heater was taking its sweet time to blow hot air, and I was wearing my brand new mittens-slash-hobo gloves.

(don't mind my fingers, they've been infected with old age)

I was thinking about how cute they were but also how practical because I didn't have to take them off to work my iPhone or look for my keys (because I look for them by touch) or to scratch my ear because all I had to do was flip the top of them down.

As I was headed towards the store, in search of the perfect birthday card for a wacky friend of mine who will have double the wrinkles next week when he turns THE BIG FOUR-OH, I was also remembering that my pop's birthday was next week too and I was trying to remember how old he was. At that time I had the top of the gloves up like so:

and my hands were on the steering wheel. Since I can never remember how old my pop is, I always think of my age, add 20 years to figure out how old my mom is then go up one because her birthday is in May and then add five years because he's older than my mom. It's a complicated formula I know.

So there I was, trying to add 58 + 5, and knowing how impossible it would be to add those numbers in my head, (pathetic, you say? Screw you, I reply. I just cannot do math in my head.) I visualized the 58 in my head and counted off the next 5 digits on my fingers. Only I couldn't see my fingers because they were hidden in my mittens!

They were hidden! In my mittens! (okay, I don't know why but that just cracked me up) (and yes, I am my number ONE FAN!)

THEY WERE HIDDEN! IN MY MITTENS! HAHAHAHA Still funny.

Anyway, uh I lost my train of thought. Oh right! I looked at my hand and tried to see which finger was 59 and which one was 60 and then I kind of just drifted off and forgot why I was looking at my mitten bending all weird. Then I remembered and tried again but I kept getting stuck at 60! Then the car behind me honked so I had to move on because the light was green and that's when the flashlight went off and I lowered the top part of the mitten and resumed my counting!

Yeah! Another reason those things are awesome! They still let me do simple math!

I guess regular gloves would work for simple math too but they're not useful if you want to stick your hand in the bag of Boston Baked Beans you just bought and put them in your mouth. Well, I guess you can but then your gloves will get soggy.

And that is my *Hobo gloves are awesome* story.

P.S.

Andy just proofread this post and asked if I had spiked my strawberry lemonade then he told me I meant "light bulb" and not "flashlight" because when an idea pops up they show a light bulb. I guess he's right. ::shrug::

Did I mention I haven't been sleeping well?

Okay PETA! Don't come pie me in the face! I'll give the polar bears one more chance.

I'm taking jean knee's advice and trying the Lever 2000 with crisp cucumber. I just hope I don't get a craving for a salad mid-shower and start eating my bathroom plants.

What? Doesn't everybody have plants in the most fertilized room of the
house? It is also the room that needs the most oxygen.

Someone took their t-shirt way too seriously!

Some things are better left unsaid.

Andy: I read your post about your first day at the part time job.

Bee: What? Were you bored so you thought you'd check my blog?

Andy: Basically.

Bee: Thanks.

Andy: Sure. I was wondering why you didn't talk about the shoes you bought while you were working.

Bee: I thought about it but I decided it didn't add to the story.

Andy: I disagree. The fact that you LIMPED to their shoe department and ransacked boxes until you found your size then proceeded to take off your shoes in the middle of the store to put on the new ones then realized your socks didn't match and that your feet smelled, would have completely made that story!

Bee: Hey! My feet don't smell!

Andy: They don't stink but they do have a slight odor to them. Like stale bread. It makes me go "eww stale bread smell" but then it makes me hungry.

Bee: There are so many things wrong with what you said. Besides, don't you think that would be considered TMI to share on my blog?

Andy: You're kidding, right? Now you're going to start censoring yourself? How about the time you blogged about not being able to go #2?

Bee: I was looking for suggestions!

Andy: That's why elves invented google. [pretends to type] "hello google? Why can't I poop?" or "what can make me go poop?" and then google will answer "not enough fiber" or "enema"

Bee: I liked it better when you were the silent type.

Andy: Speaking of things that make me poop, what are you cooking for dinner?

 

The End.

P.S.
Andy admitted it was only one pair of shoes that I owned that smelled funky and those were my Payless special shoes that I wear when my feet are cold and they're really more like slippers and I will no longer wear them ever again!

P.P.S.
The reason I was cooking is because my mom abandoned me again and went to Mexico. ::sobbing::

P.P.P.S.
I'm sorry if I'm not speaking clearly but I bit my tongue (I taste delicious by the way) while trying to bite a frozen piece of chocolate. The only reason I was eating chocolate was because I had sprayed my mouth with perfume in the morning (accidentally of course) and I was desperate for the taste to go away.

Dear Polar Bears, I regret to inform you. . .

I can no longer be responsible for saving your species.

It is with a heavy heart I have made this decision but I need, no, I MUST go back to using my bottled body wash. I know that now my empty bottles will fill the landfills that somehow contribute to your demise but this dry skin of mine is making me miserable. And when I'm miserable, those around me suffer so really it's for the greater good.

I know my pain and discomfort doesn't equal the obstacles you go through on a daily basis just to find one of those nefarious penguins I'm always hearing about so you can have it for din-din but I can't take responsibility for all things on Earth. Maybe I'll concentrate all my efforts on saving the butterflies.

Some people will say it's selfish of me to put my own comfort before that of a whole species but I would have to disagree and call those naysayers pushy-pansy-pants because, who else would be willing to take on the hate mail from people like PETA, Al Gore and Ed Begley Jr? That makes me brave. Brave and beautiful with soft skin. But wait. That doesn't mean you should try to eat me because, even though I may look appetizing, all the chemicals I use make me taste like a burnt out tire.

Since I couldn't bear (get it? BEAR? I crack myself up!) to look you in the eye, or knee caps since I'm so short, I am leaving this letter outside of your tank/cage at Lincoln Park Zoo. Although, now that I think about it, I haven't seen you in months! I'm hoping your extinction didn't come before my letter because that would mean I spent all this time typing out an apology when I could have been doing something more productive like watching my recorded Dick Van Dyke shows or maybe working.

Anyway, good luck to you! I hope you find somebody more worthy to take on your cause! But don't trust anybody with a shotgun and a fork. That's always been my motto.

Sincerely,

Bee

I never get tired of telling people how awesome I am. There! I did it again!

So I started my orientation at ACS (Anonymous Clothing Store) on Saturday. I had to come in for 2½ hours and listen to a CD orienting me on the ways of the fashion world. (P.S. No, I'm not quitting the Asylum. Not until I become a millionaire.)

There was a lot of redundancy of course like ""be clean"" "make sure your clothes are clean"" ""do not swear"" ""don't wear profanity"" which I thought was disappointing because I LOVE wearing profanity! There were also rules on things I think will spoil my fun like "do not harass any individuals while on company property" but on the bright side, everywhere else it's fair game! I mock but I know from personal experience, that there are some people who need to be spoken to as if they were toddlers.

Towards the end of my orientation, I was given a task to pick 3 outfits I thought would be appropriate work apparel. I went out of the orientation area and onto the sales floor where I picked out the snazziest outfits I could find.

I also picked up some accessories, a jacket and a decent pair of shoes to complete the ensemble. I took it to the manager who smiled approvingly and said I was a natural! I nodded and let her know I had been dressing myself since 1982 (for those of you counting, yes, I was 10! Prior to that, my mom was dressing me in those awful frufru dresses that hampered my ability to play kickball).

I left orientation day ready for my very first official day on Sunday.

As I walked into the store on Sunday, and my heels made click click click noises on the tile floor, I was greeted by a fellow employ like so "Are you Bee? Your shoes will make you want to kill yourself by the end of the day!"

Well, hello to you too, Loudmouth McGraw! I immediately had the desire to hang her from the lights by her hair but I think that part was covered in the "do not threaten others with deathly force" part of the orientation manual.

She turned out to be nice but somewhat tacky. And by that I mean, at one point, she looked me up and down then grabbed my hand and exclaimed "Don't we wish we had a man who could buy us a ring like this!" as she admired my fake white gold diamond ring that I had bought myself on clearance for $7. I could have easily let her know of her mistake but a lady never reveals her secrets. Unless she's on her blog.

The day was uneventful. I managed to impress the assistant manager who was training me by suggesting the store credit card to a customer without being prompted, being helpful to customers, answering the phone correctly on the first try and learning how to use the register after only ringing up one customer. What can I say? I'm an awesome trainee! And also I know how to read and follow direction.

Unfortunately for me, while I didn't resort to suicidal thoughts because of my shoes, I did contemplate calling Andy to bring me my slippers so that I may walk to my car after work. Or maybe have him carry me to my car, follow me home and then carry me into the house. Lesson learned, I purchased an inexpensive pair of old lady shoes for my next work day.

(I'm cringing as I type!)

The nice sales dude asked me if I wanted them in red. Not even that would make them look good.

Ironically, I paid more for the shoes than I made for the 4 hours I worked but my feet? They will be as happy as toads on a lily pad! Sure they'll be a little embarrassed because of the shoe style but their sacrifice will not go by unappreciated. I'm thinking maybe making it up to them by buying a pair of these:

JUST KIDDING ANDY!

No, I really want them!

To the lady that left her snot ridden Kleenex in the dressing room.

I've got my eyes on you!

P.P.S.

They removed the staples commercial!! I blame you guys.

P.P.P.S

It's back on.

No matter how bad my life gets, at least I'm not this guy.

 

 

looks like they removed the commercial  (:o/ it's back!

Sorry, Staples but I think you need to fire your ad people. This is the most annoying commercial in the history of Carrot Top (because he is the most annoying person/thing I can think of)

It's time to play "Worst Case Scenario"! Here's your host: Beeeee Musings! (that's me!)

I know most of you assume I live my life stumbling around by the seat of my pants and you're not far from the truth but on those rare occasions that I have to make tough decisions, I employ what I call my "Worst Case Scenario" system which prevents me regretting any decisions. What I do is, I ask myself "what is the worst case scenario if I do or don't do ___"

For example"

Marriage— Yay? or Nay?

Yay:

Worst case scenario is that Andy opens his eyes on our 10 year anniversary and realizes he married a bipolar nutjob. Until then, I won't have to take out the stinky garbage cuz I'll have a boy that does it.

Nay:

Worst case scenario, I'll start liking cats.

Since I really think cats are a step up from anal gerbils (ask Richard Gere what I mean because I don't have time to explain), marriage challenge accepted! We are approaching year 9 so we'll see what happens next year.

Let's focus on today's challenging decisions, okay?

It all started at 9:30 AM day of the lord Wednesday January 13th (coincidence that it was the 13th? I think not!). I had just finished off a full bottle of water and needed to go, erm, tinkle and like always, I waited until the very last minute which meant it was GO time! As I was lining the toilet seat with TP (a protected toilet seat is a happy toilet seat) and doing the pee-pee dance ( you know the one, right? where you shuffle from from one foot to the other all the while pinching your legs tightly together?) I was also trying to unbutton my pants at the same time... you know, now that I typed that, I'm thinking 2 things. First off, why do I share so much information and second, I must have looked like a spastic weirdo. Oh well!

Anyway, I must have yanked on my pants too hard (that's what he said!) because PEEWM! there went my button!

[insert chubbo jokes here you jerks!]

Dammit! Now the zipper wouldn't stay up! Should I just pull my blouse down?

Worst Case Scenario:

My blouse doesn't hide the problem so I walk around flashing the unsuspecting elderly.

So I looked down at myself to see how long my blouse was but it wasn't long enough to cover the overexposure. Nope, I didn't want to risk accidental peepage so I had to try something else.

I did the best I could with the zipper and walked out of the bathroom (after I washed my hands, I'm not a barbarian!) where I bumped into Scarecrow. I explained my dilemma and asked her if she had a safety pin.

She gave me one of those jumbo ones people used to secure cloth diapers in the olden days but before I could go back into the bathroom, Scarecrow went in!

Should I wait for her her to come out or just go into the kitchen and face the window so no one I work with will see what I'm doing?

Worst Case Scenario:

A random stranger I may never meet will see me fiddling with my pants while I'm standing in the kitchen.

So I stood in the kitchen and threaded the safety pin through my pants and the space where the button used to be. Nobody walked by the window in the kitchen so my secret is safe.

I went on my merry way and continued my job duties as if I was a normal person. Unfortunately for me, I should have adjusted my daily over-exaggerated body gestures to accommodate a hazardous pokey thing in my pants (that's what he said!)(that's what she said!)(it could go either way, no?) but I completely forgot I was living on the precipice of mortal danger!

Later in the day, when I needed to use the ladies room again, I went to open the safety pin but I couldn't find the other prong thingie. I looked down and there, staring up at me menacingly (I think it was even snarling), was the sharp part of the pin! I was almost killed! With no warning even! It turns out the pin had become bent and crooked so it had popped out of the pin's head!

What do I do now? Should I go home and change? No, because I won't want to come back. Maybe if I just put the safety pin back carefully...

Worst Case Scenario:

Fatal Stabbing!

Well, I certainly didn't want to die by way of safety pin stabbing but what other choice did I have?

I threaded the pin through again. This time I made sure it was more secure. Also, as an added precaution, I took 2 paper towels, folded them and positioned them on the inside of my pants to form a barrier between the pin and my delicate skin.

I thought to myself "Self, just don't use the ladies room too often so that you won't have to go through this hassle each and every time!"

You know what happened? It was as if my bladder decided to take a stand and show me who was boss! I would have a teeny tiny sip of water and BOOM! I had to go to the bathroom! I'd be reading a magazine and an ad would feature  an H2O product BOOM! I had to go to the bathroom!

If I walked by a plant— nothing would happen because it's a plant but then I'd notice it needed to be watered and BOOM! off I'd go!

After being tortured every five minutes, I finally took control of my bladder and said "Do your worst!" but by this time it was time to go home and I'm happy I didn't have to find out what the worst case scenario would have been.

And now you know too much about me and my pants!

Behind every great woman stands her mommy.

So I watched 4 movies on Sunday. I know some of you are thinking that I'm a couch potato but jokes on you because I watched those 4 movies while organizing my closet. Again. INow you're thinking that I do a lot of closet organizing and how messy can I be (you have no idea!) but the truth is, I was making room for all my new clothes practicing for when I have to start my new part-time job where I will constantly be picking up after all those inconsiderate bitches who don't pick up after themselves!!

Okay, that wasn't real anger. I was just practicing.

That is my segue (an NCS classic segue if I ever saw one- only without the swearing) into telling you guys I got the job at Anonymous Clothing Store (ACS for short) Woohoo! Confetti!

Yep. Now I may share the circumstances without fearing I was jinxing myself.

It all started back in November when I went to apply and never got a call back. I was despondently eating my quesadilla one December evening and I mentioned this to my mom. She agreed it was sad and maybe a little pathetic but I wasn't a loser! And I said "I never said I was a loser!" and she said "good because you're not!"

The next day, my mommy marched into ACS and asked the person in charge why in the hell they hadn't called her daughter for an interview. The woman, cowering I'm sure, gave her a new application for me to fill out and told her she would call me for sure once I reapplied. So I refilled in all the baloney and she called me for an interview. I again got my hopes up only to have them dashed when time went by without a phone call.

I took stock of my life and wondered what I could have possibly done to kill my chances. I replayed the interview in my head. Let's see. I was confident. I looked cute in my outfit. Pretended I would be great with customers. Snapped my bra strap when I told her I had bought my undergarments there. Pointed at my boobs... hmmmm? Maybe she thought I was hitting on her? Oopsie!

Oh well, to save face I concluded that I had intimidated her and maybe she thought I would take over her job one day because let's face it, I'm just that delusional good! 

I had another sad conversation with my mom and she repeated how cool and awesome I was and she gave me some hot chocolate which made me feel better.

You guys won't believe this but, later in the day, I received a call from my mom. Guess where she was!!

Mom: I'm here at ACS and <kaweek> I asked why  <kaweeek> <kaweeeeeek> on the schedule!

Me: Mom! Mom! Mooooom! You're breaking up!

Mom: <kaweeek> call <kaweeek><kaweeek><kaweeek>

I hung up because I couldn't understand what she was trying to say.

A few minutes later, my phone rings again.

Mom: I SAID THEY DID CALL YOU AND YOU'RE ALREADY ON THEIR SCHEDULE! Why didn't you tell me they called you?

Huh?

Me: Nobody called me, ma! I take the phone everywhere!

Mom: Well, you're on the schedule for the 16th. the girl showed me your name and everything.

Weird. Maybe they're not as organized as they would lead you to believe?

Me: Well, they didn't call so I'll just have to wait.

To quote my brother Rick "I'm not gonna go sweatin them" which I think means I won't make a nuisance of myself by, let's say, stopping by the store everyday for  impromptu daily shopping sprees.

The days passed. (Please picture pages of a calendar being flung at you)

Saturday! Sunday! Monday! Tuesday!

Finally, on Wednesday!, I received the call. Yours truly is on her way to richness one peanut at a time!

Also, my mommy is badass and is now my agent!

P.S.

Tomorrow I will be posting something I wrote under the influence of no sleep. Who needs booze/drugs?

Before Censors

I'll be back later with a post but I just wanted to share a book I found in an antique shop.

The title doesn't offend me so much since the policeman is of the portly variety but dear baby spinach does he look like a pervert!

Raggedy Ann: He smells like hot dogs!

Raggedy Andy: I think his zipper's open!

Nice Fat Policeman: Well now, I wonder how much I can get for a couple of raggedy dolls?

I know people were more innocent back in the olden days but I find it hard to believe there wasn't at least ONE smartass around back then!
That makes me sad.

Married Latina Female.

It is my belief that  life helps us prepare for things we weren't expecting in our paths by giving us small examples of how to deal with any future disappointments, sadness, heartache, homicidal tendencies, etc. I think back to the time I didn't have car insurance and backed into a Cadillac and had to pay the mean bitch out of my own pocket for her "repairs" even though there was nothing wrong with her car. That incident helped me realize any extra money in my wallet attracts evil which is why I try to spend as much of it as I can! Oh, I also learned I needed car insurance.

The reason I'm talking about this semi-enlightenment crap is because life never prepared me for Milton wanting to be my twin. Yep. You heard me right!

She is dressing like me, buying shoes like mine (WITH HEALS EVEN!), wearing gaudy jewelry, cutting her hair short like mine... Oh my lord! I just realized there was a movie just like this a few years ago! It was called Single White Female. Only I'm not single and she's not either. And also she is of the Caucasian persuasion and I'm so obviously of the Latin persuasion. Anyway, it's creeping me out! Now I have to hear about how she goes shopping at my favorite shoe store and to make matters worse, she was wearing a cute pair of red Mary Janes that would have looked awesome on my tootsies!

  (not actual shoe she wore because I would have wrestled them off her feet!)

Her next *Bee* thing? Perfume! She was commenting on how she loves how I leave the office smelling so good. Over Christmas she bought 3 different scents so I could tell her which one was better on her. She asked me what the name of mine was and I lied. I told her it was Exclamat!on which I used to wear when I was like 15 or 16 so I'm hoping she gets the hint.

When she cut her hair, she asked me if she could get away with dying it a dark color, not black but maybe a dark brown. I told her her skin was too fair and her response was "well so is yours but the color looks good on you" and I had to let her down easy by saying that there is a difference between being fair and blushy (me) and fair and cotton-ball-y (her). Thankfully she went with strawberry blonde.

I hope she doesn't try to swap my Andy for her beer-gutted old dude because I will have to introduce her to my little friend:

It's not very humane but I think it'll get my point across!

I bet gold fish crackers are easier to take care of... Only you can't get those wet, right?

Here I am. Passed my bedtime because I'm being punished for not feeding the fish at the right time so Andy is making stand in front of the fish tank until they finish eating. He doesn't care that I'm sleepy! "The fish are your responsibility, Bee!" Sheesh! It's a good thing we don't have kids cuz he'd probably want me to take care of them too!

Hurry up Larry O. Pompadour! Don't let Big Moe eat all the food!

It's cold in my kitchen. At least they have a heater in there!

How does one know when a fish is done eating? Does it let out a big burp and rub its belly?

Oh great Andy came back to lecture me again! He's saying I'm not taking my responsibilities seriously because I'm playing on my phone.
He just gave me his eyebrow raised stink eye!

I told him to go try his intimidation tactics on Mocha.

Ah forget it! I'm going to bed!

This is not a commercial.

Sometimes I think my television is my enemy. I really do. I could be sitting in my chair, enjoying a nice glass of strawberry limeade, thinking about how I am going to change my eating habits and add an excersise routine to my life when, all of a sudden, they'll show a skinny bitch enjoying a brownie sundae drizzled with fudge and nuts (peanuts, I mean) and my willpower goes out the window only I don't have a brownie sundae and I'm too lazy to make one so I settle for BBQ potato chips with French Onion dip instead. Then, full of self loathing, I yell at the TV for betraying my trust! But then, after I calm down and regain my senses, I apologize and return to my sedentary life.

Last Saturday night, I was watching Food Network whilst (that's right, I said WHILST) dismantling my beautiful Christmas tree. Andy had already gone to bed (lightweight!) but I wanted to have everything put away so that I wouldn't have to deal with it in the morning. As the night went on, the shows on on the Food Network started to get more and more appetizing. The FN personalities talked about their favorite breakfast foods (meh), their deserts, their favorite pizza, their favorite Barbecue... and so they hit my weakness. I love love love Barbecue. If it were up to me, and I wasn't deathly afraid of clogged arteries, I would eat Barbecue everyday. In fact, if I ever move from Chicago, which I very much doubt because I am looking for a place that never gets hotter than 80 degrees and never goes lower than 50, one of my requirements will be to move within jogging distance of one of the best Barbeque places in town.

After listening to them go on and on about their favorite barbeque places and watching them enjoy mouth watering ribs and brisket as they licked their fingers, a decision was made to find the nearest BBQ place near my house and gorge myself until I was either squealing like a pig or in a meat coma. Sadly, I would have to wait until Sunday because I can't see well enough to drive at night it was too late to go out. And besides, I still didn't know where to go.

The next morning, I mentioned my obsession with BBQ at our family brunch and Crazy Ez suggested Famous Dave's (for some reason, the website has music blaring when you click over) I immediately pulled out my iphone and mapped the closest location to me! Unfortunately, I had just eaten (stupid, I know) so I had to wait for the body to do whatever it does to make me hungry again (I think it has something to do with hamsters and magic).

As I waited patiently for the time to pass, I did the following things:

-Started to clean (stopped when I realized what I was doing)

-Watched Andy play Call of Duty 3 (he was usurping my space in front of the TV)

-Joined the P.I.G. club on the Famous Dave's website (below is the reenactment)

-Read their entire menu

-Drooled

-Read the menu to Andy

-Read the menu to Andy again because he wasn't listening

-Read the menu to Mocha because Andy wasn't paying attention because he was too busy splattering brains all over the place

Finally, it was time to go!

As soon as I walked into the restaurant, my nose  gave me a standing ovation! I was prepared to order a pulled pork sandwich with some creamy cole slaw but Andy suggested we order the feast for 2.

Are they serious? TWO people??  We barely made a dent!

Notice how it looks almost the same.

The food was excellent. The meat was tender on the inside and charred on the outside just the way I love it! If any of you have a Famous Dave's near you, I recommend you go. Tell them I sent you! They won't know what you're talking about and assume you're off your meds but I'm sure it won't be the first or last time someone made that assumption.

I'm always open to try new places so if any of you have a better places, in my area because I'm not traveling to Louisiana just for meat (I personally would but I think Andy would have some objections) let me know.

Oh and sorry Brian, I don't think there are any locations in the UK. ::sobbing::