Why am I always forgetting my pants (or *trousers* in Brian-speak)??

I received an email* the other day asking about our new living arrangements with my brother-in-law because I haven't talked about it at all. This person was wondering how it was going and if I was ready to join a traveling circus yet. The short answer to that is *yes* and the long answer is ohmylordwhatdidwegetourselvesinto!
 
Honestly, it's been a difficult adjustment. Our whole lives have changed dramatically and I have to admit to Andy and I arguing a lot more than we used to because we no longer have the buffer his dungeon offered.
 
Sometimes, I feel like I'm living in a boy's locker room because OMG why do I have to scrub the tub so often?? Other times I feel like I've regressed into my teen years where I would have to ask my brothers and sister not to wear my clothes (I had both guy and girl clothes) or to pick up after themselves. Or when they would deny doing something even though they were the only ones in the house at the time. Grrrr! Okay, deep breaths!
 
I don't know if it's the fact that I'm old and set in my ways and feel like I've worked hard all my life and all I want to do at the grand old age of 37 is go home to my obnoxious mutts and veg in front of the TV without having to worry about watching a girlie show in the presence of 2 dudes. The last thing I want to do is surf through the channels looking for bisexual programming. Uh, and by that I think I meant unisex? As in for both genders? I don't know what it's called so which ever one fits the situation, that's what I meant.
 
I think the hardest thing I've had to adapt to is the lack of privacy. I no longer have the luxury of having the bathroom door open while I stand in my underpants drying my hair after I take a shower. I can no longer change into my jammies and lounge in front of the TV before bedtime because my jammies no longer consist of sweats and a t-shirt.
 
 
 
Yeah, I look exactly like that. 
 
As some of you may remember, I am not an early riser. I'm used to just rolling out of bed and WHILST showering deciding what I'm going to wear. After my shower I would wrap myself up in a towel and drip drip back into my bedroom to get my clothes. Now it has all changed. Now I have to make up my mind before my shower (who can think clearly seconds after waking up? If I mismatch my tanks and cardigans, I shouldn't be penalized!) and then I have to take my clothes into the bathroom with me.

I guess it wouldn't be too big of a deal if I didn't keep forgetting to bring in my pants! I mean, it's not like I just started dressing myself yesterday! I've been doing it since I was about 11 or 15 so it's been a few years but my brain goes into pause and as I'm getting ready to exit the bathroom, after I've done make up and hair, I think to myself "hmmm something is missing but I can't quite put my finger on it!" as I pat my naked thigh "I know I'm forgetting something but what can it be??" as I admire my freshly shaved legs "so many things I have to keep track of. . ." as I admire my fancy shoes "why did I think these pants would be too short for these shoes? Oh wait! I'm not wearing any pants!" and then I grab my towel and wrap it around my lower half and I carefully open the bathroom door, peek out to make sure my BIL is still in his room and then make a mad dash for my bedroom and the safety of my pants.

He's usually not up that early so we're not always in danger (I say we because it would be a very bad bad experience for all involved) of witnessing my pantless mad dash to my room but there was that one time he got up early to go to Great America, lucky for me, I had remembered the pants so when I opened the bathroom door and heard "hey, Bee" I only squealed a little from the shock. Okay, I also dropped my phone which made scream but at least I was fully clothed!
 
Andy and I are trying to remain chill (that's young people speak for *cool*) because we know his brother is also stressing. He's used to peace and quiet while my house is anything but. He's used to a well stocked fridge while mine is stocked with beverages and lunch meat. He's used to a well organized house where mine is chaotic and cluttery. I have been known to accidentally store my flashlight (or torch, Brian) in the fridge...

Anyway, we're gonna keep working on... winning the lottery. In the meantime, I'm gonna stock my cabinet with Nyquil.  
 
*Thank you all for the emails you send me. I try to respond as I get them and if I don't you can blame it on 2 things. The fact that my AT&T guy, Big Tex, hasn't fixed the email feature on my iphone 4 and the fact that evil spam elves are diverting a lot of my emails to my spam folder against my will.

Also, some of you should have blogs because you are very funny! I'm looking at you, KJAX! Cracked me up!

"Bee n' Andy: Shoe Sale"

I am so gender confused!

I was reviewing my blog stats the other day because the searches that land people on my blog always amuse me. For some reason, there are a bunch of people obsessed with *googly eyes*! Anyway, I came across somebody, a spam site I think, linking to me via a post called "50 Best Blogs for Marriage Advice".

I was like "Oh cool! Somebody actually listens to my backwards advice! Someone will probably live happily ever sometimes based on all the little nuggets I post about my marriage! It feels so good to be able to inspire people-- wait what??" and my ego bubble burst!

" 9. Bee’s Musings : Written by a quirky man who lives in a Chicago suburb, this blog gives an inside look at one man’s view on the opposite sex and their views on men. Don’t be surprised if things get a little wacky!" 

Que? Me? A MAN??

I mean, I know I'm tougher than most men and can basically whoop ninja ass but I know for a fact I'm a girl!

I think?

I do remember getting all that spam about making my penis bigger...

And I still get these in my inbox.

Recommended for men of all ages‎ - Better lovemaking does not have to come at a crazy price

Achieve greater strength and girth‎ - Your lovemaking ability decides the chicks you can get

When no is a dirty word‎ - Love your pecker, and make your pecker love more and she will love you

She will fondle your nerve endings‎ - With my improved stamina, i could take her on all night long

Sex will never be the same again‎ - Look, it really works, you should try these organ enhancement organic pills

::sigh:: Spammers can't be wrong! Maybe my mom should sue the doctor that told her I was a girl? To think of all the money she could have saved on all those frufru dresses she bought me. Will I have to learn to like sports? And what about my shoes?

My pretty pretty shoes!

 

Will they still fit me if I'm a man?

I think I need a nap.

Nut crackers!

Andy and I went to Costco on Sunday to restock our toilet paper stash and grab another 20 pound bag of Chihuahua cheese when we walked by this display.

That right there is a Nutcracker display. Wait, I need to repeat that. THAT RIGHT THERE IS A NUTCRACKER DISPLAY! As in the toy soldiers that guard the Christmas tree from rabid squirrels during the Christmas season. The Christmas season that is usually in December!

Sunday was August 22! Who needs to start stocking up on Nutcrackers while the sun is still burning the grass and drying the rivers?

...

I should go back and buy 2.

And now, just for you jean knee, some Milton!

So, as some of you may know, Milton is Arkham Asylum's *female* accountant (I'm pointing out that she's female because I gave her a male name and people always call her *he* or *him* and she's not either). As a person, I like her very much and she's been to my house and we've done yard sales and also skipped hand in hand through a field of daisies. Sometimes, however, she has me questioning God's plan.

Anyway, tomorrow (or if you're reading this on Friday it's today and if you're reading this 6 months from now it was 8/20 and if you're reading this in the future, pick me out the winning lottery numbers) is her birthday so as is tradition here in the Asylum, she had to bring her cake in on Thursday (because everything is celebrated on Thursday due to the fact that OZ is in surgery and therefore does not make an appearance).

We prepared the cake by lighting the candles and then waited for her to walk into the kitchen so we could *surprise* her with the cake she brought in. When we saw her shadow rounding the corner, we yelled out "surprise" and sang Happy Birthday (I did a little dance for her too. Luckily there is no video evidence of this tomfoolery!) and then we waited patiently while she cut the cake.

Well, "waited patiently" may be exaggerating a bit because the cutting of the cake took a FREAKIN life of its own!

Please, come in and observe.

Milton [as she sticks knife in cake]: Oh dear! I went slightly off center.

Me, Cowardly Lion, Scarecrow, Toto (and the new addition to the team, uh, we'll call her Lucy and I'll tell you about her another time)(hopefully): ::unbelieving stare::

Milton: I think I will cut it in 4 pieces first and then divide it from there. [stands back to take a better look, in the meantime, the knife is at a 789 degree angle, in the cake]

Me: I don't care if my piece is lopsided. I'll just eat it with my head tilted at an angle so that will even it out.

Milton [squinting, looking for imaginary lines]: No, I'll slide the knife a little to the right and it should be fine. [slides knife and stands back again to inspect the results][I AM NOT EVEN MAKING THIS SHIT UP!]

Me [I put my hand on the knife's handle]: Uhm, how about I just cut the cake so we can get on with the eating?? I NEED SUGAR! [okay, I probably didn't need it because I was already all buzzed up on the 'feine ]

Milton [slaps my hand away]: Hey! At least I'm not doing what I do at home!

Me: I'm afraid to ask . . .

Milton [looks at me and adjusts her glasses]: I use a tape measure, of course!

Me, Cowardly Lion, Scarecrow, Toto and Lucy: ::unbelieving stare, mouth wide open::

Milton [looks at us with a serious smile]: Who wants the first symmetrical piece?

Bee takes you back in time again but this time, she asks that you keep your clothes on!

So, since I obviously missed posting about some uber important happenings in my life, which I'm sure you guys are bummed out about [winky face], I will have a new series called "Bee Muses Flashback Edition" and when you see that, I want you to picture that weird wave they do on a TV sitcom when the characters scrunch up their face to simulate deep thought or a memory sequence and then they make the screen go all wavy and they play that harp music. Got it? Good!

So here is the first installment:

*Dorooroodorooroodorooroo (Wayne's World! Picture Wayne's World!)*

At the beginning of time, the powers that be at Arkham Asylum instituted Treat Day and designated Thursday as the day to fill the tiny kitchenette with saturated fat. Mmmmm!

For over 20 years women would complain about what some people brought and practically dry hump others that brought their favorite homemade goodies (I'm glad I was always in the other category!) For over 20 years, every Thursday, one unlucky woman would be in charge of making all the other dissatisfied women happy by bringing in cupcakes, cheese, crackers, spreads, chips, peanuts, cakes, dips and wretched, awful fruits and veggies (that was me and let me tell you that I would get hell for daring to eat healthy!). Religiously, every Thursday, after morning meeting, there would be a shuffle to the kitchenette and ladies would announce their verdict on how the poor lost soul fared on her day. Every Thursday, that is, until a certain shawty decided she had had enough. It was time to break this unhealthy tradition of woman bashing and unhealthy fat consumption. That woman, ladies and gents (I had originally typed *ladies IN gents* because that is where my mind is dontcha know?), was yours truly!

[hold for applause]

I gathered my strength because I knew this battle would be another one for the Arkham Archives and brought up the subject at morning meeting.

"Ladies, on this great day in April, I propose we no longer have a weekly treat day.

--loud murmur interruption-

Let me finish. I ask that we only have treat day once a month as supposed to on a weekly basis.

--gasps!-

Hear me out. Now that PD has retired, Milton has become obsessed with the amount of times she has to be Treat Marm per year.

--Milton: Well, I. Well. Yes. I. Too many times. Ratio versus calculus and variable.

I personally am sick and tired of hearing about it. What say you, kind and beautiful womenfolk?"

SILENCE

[I clear my throat] "Okay, if not once a month how about not at all?"

--Mutterings were heard: "Heathen! Selfish! Nice hair!"

[I gather my whacking stick] "Erm, so, yay or nay?"

 
Glynda: I leave it for the majority to rule.

Out, in the far far distance, I see one hand slowly rise. Milton! I knew you'd come through for me buddy! Then a second hand pops up. CL! I knew you'd jump on my wagon because I control your pee breaks! Then, one last hand makes its way up (well, it's really 2 hands but I count SC and Toto as one because they lovingly share one brain) (what? I'm not mean! I said *lovingly!) and I breathe a sigh of relief and lower my whacking stick.

So, after 20-something years, one woman has done what no one else has had the chocolate balls to do. I have successfully eliminated weekly treat day!! Woohoo!

::confetti!!::

Yep. I have proved that if I set my mind on it, I can accomplish anything! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm trying to turn my electric bill into money and Tazz into a maid.

Alls well that ends well.

So... Saturday was my last day at ACS. I know. Sad. Unfortunately for me, I could no longer work on Saturdays and they couldn't accommodate me because it wouldn't be fair to the other girls. Sure, I'm freaking adorable and that should have tipped the scales in my favor but what are you gonna do? 

I mean, I always gave 75% and was punctual and sweet and helpful and looked great in their clothes and shopped a lot and, um, did I mention I'm adorable?

Andy has breathed a sigh of relief because I will no longer be smuggling clothes into the house in the middle of the night while he's trying to defend the universe from some dude named the Lynch King (which they supposedly defeated but for some reason they keep battling?). He's also happy he won't have clothes tumble towards him as he walks by my dresser because I have towers upon towers upon towers on my little tiny itty bitty dresser. In all fairness, I think he should just get me a bigger dresser.

In all seriousness, I am going to miss working at ACS. It helped me so much when I had my mental meltdown 6 months ago, which I just hit the 6 month mark on Thursday, and kept my mind from focusing too much on what I thought was going to suck my brain dry.

I went in there thinking I was a shlumpy housewife and came out of there knowing that I'm not that at all! Part of the shlumpiness I felt was because I was not wearing clothes that fit me properly. I would go in and buy big loose shirts and stretchy pants and granny panties so of course I felt like an unattractive hag!

Thanks to the insistence of the women I worked with at ACS, I expanded my wardrobe horizons. I learned what type of shirts/blouses flatter my body. I learned that jeans could be your butt's best friend. I learned that I shouldn't be allergic to wearing light colors just because I always heard black was the only slimming color.

Most importantly, I learned that most women are kind and supportive and will verbally beat you up if you call yourself *fat*.

Working at ACS was a welcome distraction and I was able to put on pause the all consuming stress of working at the Asylum, my unhappiness with myself and it basically helped me not focus too much on my dark thoughts.

I believe that the activity also helped in my weight loss and *that* in turn helped transform my blood pressure from mercurial to steady. And honestly, I loved being out of the house. I mean, Andy has his hobbies and I felt like this was mine. It was somewhere I could go and interact with people that were closer to my age while at the same time help out women who were in the same imaginary position of shlumpy housewife I used to be in.

I also learned to accept *the booty*. No matter how much I try to outrun it, it's always gonna be right behind me (I crack myself up!) so I might as well make it work for me. Maybe I should even buy the Brazilian butt lift exercise. . . not that I'm gonna be doing booty pops or anything because who needs that image?

I was sorta depressed about the ACS situation but I have to admit I neglected a lot of the things I love doing because I always ended up too tired from working 2 jobs. I haven't hosted any family get togethers this year. I haven't been able to keep up with friends via email, facebook, blogs or phone. I mean, I went a whole week without seeing my little Isabella! Talk about heart breaking!

Sadly, one of the things that has suffered my neglect the most is my garden. Or, more accurately, my weed garden (and by weed I mean "any undesirable or troublesome plant, esp. one that grows profusely where it is not wanted" not maryjane weed).

Look! So pathetic!

And also, my blog. I haven't blogged as much as I'd like too. Blogging has always been my outlet and I find myself typing posts in my head but then when I get home, all I can think of is having my Coco Pebbles, because I'm 12, and then going to bed.

So, I guess what I'm saying is that the Sheriff is back so no more loitering at my street corner! No more coming over here and borrowing my things and then leaving them dirty and broken because I've got my eyes on you!

And to those of you who have kids who like leaving stray toys in my garden? They will be donated to a charity near you!

Oh! This means that the "Bee n' Andy" comic strip will be back too! Andy said "yay!" but he did it while shoving a pillow in his face so that confused me a little but he's always been a little odd so no worries.

Drawback?

::sigh:: No more 31% discount.

I think the fashion world is trying to prepare us for rough times ahead...

Why else would they want women to dress like Colonel Jessup? Only we'd have cooler names. I'd be called Sergeant Pepper.

Ick!

It's a long setup so be patient and read the whole story. I command you!

As some of you may know, I call Andy The Warden because he's always hell bent on bedtime being at 10:30 pm. He's always all "lights out! bedtime!" and goes around turning off lights, locking doors and unplugging laptops, well just one, MINE! Unless! Unless he's battling some evil dwarves. Then it's okay to stay up until 11:30 because he makes the rules you see?

Last night, he fell asleep on the sofa at about 9 pm. I had some stuff to do so I didn't wind up waking him up until 11 and the first thing he asks is "Why did you wait until now to wake me up?" and that didn't go over well with me because I like to think I'm old enough to know when I'm tired and need to go to bed so we started arguing. I'll spare you the details but I knew that this would make me toss and turn while Andy would fall asleep before his head hit the pillow. The injustice of it all still pisses me off!

Anyway, flashforward to this morning when I was at the Asylum and talking to Milton (who happens to be a woman, you guys) and telling her I had had a weird dream.

Me: I dreamt I had turned to Andy in bed and started shoving him violently and all I kept hearing was "Bee! BEEEE!!"

Milton: Well, you were mad at him so it's only natural.

So I shrugged because it was probably the case but then, later in the afternoon, Andy called me to ask how I was doing.

Me: I'm tired! How do you think I am?? [because as far as I was concerned, the fight was still ON!] I didn't sleep well after you pissed me off!

Andy: You seemed to be sleeping fine when you punched me in the face multiple times. [he said calmly]

Me: . . . Uh, what??

Andy: Yeah, I woke up to you wailing on me and I was like "Bee! BEEEE!!" but then I heard you snoring.

Me: . . . I guess we're even?

 

Whoopsie?