How deep can a cotton swab go?

So, last week I said I was feeling better and my brain capacity was back and blah blah blah... WELL! I've had a relapse. I blame Cook County Board President Todd Stroger. What an asshole! There. I said it.

I finally had enough and went to see my doctor. Obviously I would need the extra help from special little pills because my beloved Nyquil was not doing the trick (but it has been putting my lights out at night). I left work early (the bats practically shoved my ass out the door) so that Andy could drive me into THE CITY.

Let me tell you something, never EVER tell your doctor that you know FOR A FACT that you don't have XYZ disease because she will look at you sideways and pull out the biggest fucking cotton swab ever made and stick it in your nose! Twice!

 

It went in so deep she was juggling my eyeballs! Then she left the room and came back with a little strip and we watched it for a few minutes until she was satisfied that I was not with swine flu. Yay! The only other time I was that happy was when I peed on a stick and it came out negative.

So she gave me some antibiotics and then asked "Did your husband come with you?" puzzled, I answered that yes he had because I can't drive at night so she then yelled out to Magda something in Polish and next thing you know, Andy and I were ambushed and shot in the arm. It hurt, I won't lie to you but at least now we are sitting in an invisible bubble where the dreaded swine flu will ping ping PING! right off!

Andy was freaking out because he thought he would suffer some unknown side effects, like break-dancing, but he seems to be okay. He was very brave.

P.S.

For those of you doubting the H1N1's powers, we had a beloved member in our family who was infected and it is very scary and real. I personally feel better knowing my Andy and I have been inoculated along with Natalia and my sister. Next up my mom and little Isabella.

 

Self Portraits by Isabella

  

Once upon a time there was a family of ugly globs living in my lungs...

 

It all started on Friday THE THIRTEENTH ooh spoooooky!

I came down with some bug. Last year I was rarely sick but it seems this year will be the year of the Funkyflus for me.

As you may or may not know, you simply cannot be sick while working at the Asylum. People immediately start shielding themselves from you and spraying every area you touch with bleachlike substances. While your hand is still touching the object! I don't know why they treat people like pariahs when they're ill. With the exception of OZ, it's not like we go out licking unsanitary hookers on purpose!

So, I decided to keep my illness (which I believe was passed on to me by that evil OZ!) on the down-low. Unfortunately for me, at the earliest sign of any illness, my voice is the first to go. Added to that, I have this creepy cough that I haven't been able to get rid of for over a month. That cough has irritated my throat and, I'm assuming because I am not a licensed professional, my vocal chords. So instead of my sweet HIGH PITCHED voice OF A NINE YEAR OLD, I sound like a 1920s hustler whose had too many cigarettes, booze and good times. The voice is a little less Mae West and a lot more Elmer Fudd-y. I will call this my alter ego and name her Lullibell. What the hell was I talking about? Oh right! I'm sick.

I went to work and as soon as I said something, everyone pounced on me.

"Are you sick?"
"Sounds like something's cookin'!"
"Your hair looks great!"

I told them I felt fine but I felt a little congested. Immediately Glynda told me to go home. Since I no longer have any more time off left in the season, I told her that I would go home if they paid me for the day. She stared at me blankly and said "No, but I don't want you to give it to us" and that's when I said "This is harassment!" no I actually told her that if she did not get it from kissing OZ's ass, then she wouldn't get it from me.

I struggled the whole day to appear healthy but once I got home that evening, my bravado evaporated. I sat on the sofa coughing and whimpering, waiting for Tom Cruise to come heal me. Bastard never showed.

I managed to run some errands on Saturday but on Sunday all I did was wallow in self pity, vowing to make the world a bitter place if I came out of this alive.

On Monday, I called in sick because I had trouble sleeping and I knew I would look like a zombie on meth and therefore be judged by the bats because even though looking like zombies on meth is their permanent look, it's unacceptable for me to come down with any illness. I decided to stay home and rest. I slept until 2pm. TWO PM! It was almost dinner time! I felt better, still a little cough-y but the headache and lightheadedness were gone.

Join me in the present day, Tuesday, where I'm driving to work and practicing my 'good mornings' because I don't want my voice to sound all scratchy when I greet Glynda.

First, I sounded like Lurch  "Good morning!" nope try again "GOOD MORNING!" that sounded like Jack McFarland on helium. Bring it down a few notches "Good morning!" now I'm Oscar the freaking Grouch! Good, I'm getting closer! I would be able to fool people into thinking I was 100% better and they wouldn't irritate me with their obnoxious insinuations of me infecting the whole office thereby taking years off their lives. I high fived myself in the rear view mirror and that's when I realized . . .

My life? Pathetic.

Aliens, Julia Childs, Nemo*! Movies that are polar opposites!

**This post is brought to you from under my blankies while I'm valiantly fighting off what I'm hoping isn't the flu but it feels very flu-y to me which sucks and my beloved Nyquil seems to be too far for me to reach which only leaves me the option to call out for Andy but that just takes too much energy so instead I'm gonna try and devise a rope toss fashioned out of toilet paper and hope it's strong enough to pull it to my my side. Or maybe I'll just sleep. Anyway, I decided to raid my draft folder for post that didn't quite make the cut so if they suck you know why. Like always, I absolve myself of any actual blame for being mediocre. God! I feel like an alien is trying to claw his way out of my throat! If I survive, and I'm not amongst the 30-90,000 predicted victims of the swine flu (relax, I don't really think I have the swine flu just a plain old regular phlem producing flu but the flu is the flu no matter what fancy name you give it. kinda like a rose I guess), I'll see you guys next week.**

Last Monday, Labor Day, Andy and I went to a double feature. Let's step back for a second so we may discuss the meaning of a *double feature*. In the olden days, days of poodle skirts, sock hops, the ability to disguise hickies via a kicky polka dot scarf and girls who would go away to visit aunts in other states for about 8-9 months and come back all weepy and smoking cigarettes, a double feature was something you paid oh I don't know, a nickel, to see two movies.

It was usually at the drive-in (and you would really only see one because you were typically too involved doing other things, like knitting) and you had those metal box thingies you'd attach to your window (the last time I went to a drive-in, Before-Andy, we had to tune our radio to a certain station and what fun is that? I used to love forgetting to remove the metal speaker thing and then remember when I couldn't put my window up while driving on the highway!) (by the way, I know I went to see Wolf with Jack Nicholson but I can't remember what the second movie was. . .).

In the year 2009, we did not pay a nickel to see 2 movies and instead paid $14 to see one movie (matinee), went home and then came back to pay $18 for the second movie.

The first movie we saw was District 9, totally Andy's pick. I liked it well enough but I wouldn't recommend it to everybody. For example, I'd tell my brothers Rick and Sergio to go see it but I'd discourage my brother Dan and sister Nancy from seeing it. Because of their delicate sensibilities.

The movie left me with more questions than I care to live with after seeing a movie but I don't want to voice those questions for 2 reasons. One, you wouldn't know what I'm talking about and two, I don't feel like ruining it for other people. Maybe tomorrow.

We left the theater and went home to feed the dogs, feed fish, and load clothes in the washer (BECAUSE I NOW HAVE THAT OPTION).

We went back to the movie theater to see Julie and Julia. I learned a few things about myself that day.

The first was that I can simultaneously make fun of old men who sit in yellow corvette convertibles while parked in a handicapped section and jamming to Barry White's "can't get enough of your love baby" all the while I'm dry heaving.

The second is that I hate watching people eat in movies. In real life too but I don't really have an option if I'm to socialize with others but in movies I want to throw things at the screen. But not my nachos. People in movies love to chew and talk. Chew, talk, then pick up their drinks and attempt to do all 3 things at once. Why? Do directors think that the entire population was raised by Brad Pitt's character in Kalifornia (he picked his feet on the kitchen table while eating, if I remember correctly).

The third is that I hate watching people kiss. In real life too but I usually just spray them with toilet water but in the movies I get all sorts of the ickies. Especially when those kissing are people in their senior years (because now they're also kissing to "can't get enough of your love baby" in my head). Sorry, I don't mean to sound like an age-ist but that's how I feel and the last I heard I had the right to feel icked out at whatever I wanted.

Also, if anybody has seen that movie, do you remember the part where that Julie chick is saying "Bon Appetite" over and over then her husband says it like 3 times and then starts mauling her and the last time he says it he practically throws his junk in her face? How boorish right? He was all "Bon Appetite, here's my crotch!" I whispered that to Andy and he sprayed the old ladies in front of us with soda.

True Story.

*If you're wondering where Nemo comes into the whole story because he was in the title, he doesn't. I think Nemo's dead. Tell your children.

**I just read this and now I know why I didn't hit publish but you know what? I'm sweating right now and cold at the same time so I'm going to hit publish anyway. Tazz keeps crying. Can dogs predict the future? Is he trying to tell me something?**

My reign of terror at the Laundromat? It comes to an end!! (Shoots off confetti at the audience!)(Hopes nobody gets it in the eye)(except maybe YOU right there!)

This past Saturday morning, Andy and I woke up extremely early SIX-THIRTY! He got up and put on his big boy pants so he may take the dogs out, go move our cars and open the back gate while I decided to stay in bed and send my support from there. With my eyes closed. And hugging my teddy bear.

I was all snuggly when I heard my car alarm go off. I jumped out of bed, because I know how over reactive my man can be, and ran to the front door. Meanwhile Andy ran the length of our long driveway and came into the house through the back door, which doesn't make sense because my car was parked in the front but whatever, yelling "BEE! WHERE IS YOUR KEY FOB???" (as my car alarm was going nuts waiting to be shut off) (as he was holding my car keys with my, ehm, KEY FOB that shuts off my car alarm). So I say "you are holding it" in English because that is the only language he understands and he bellows "NO I'M NOT! WHERE IS YOUR KEY FOOOOOOB??" so I take this thing that he's holding that he claims is NOT my key fob, walk to the front door, push the button on this imposter key fob and miraculously shut off my car alarm.

I slowly turn to look at him and he's just standing there, seething. Then he walks into the bedroom and I look at the time. 6:45 which triggers the rage within me. When he came out of the bedroom I let him have it boys and girls. I can't even remember what I said but I'm sure it was mean (because my voice was all snarly) and I ended it with "so you better apologize"

And he did.

I don't recall the last time Andy said 'I'm sorry'. Wait, I do. It was that one time he accidentally elbowed me in the head while he was sleeping. But that one shouldn't count because I smacked him on the stomach to wake him up and told him what he had done and he opened one eye and said 'oh sawrry' ::snore:: I'm sure that in the rule book (The Marriage Rule Book) there is an entry that clearly states that half conscious apologies are invalid in the states of Illinois, Wisconsin, California, Hawaii and maybe Alaska.

Anyway, the reason we were up so early and moving the cars around was because we needed to make room for the delivery truck that was dropping off our BRAND SPANKIN NEW WASHER!!

The delivery dudes (or "happy marriage makers" as I call them) arrived at 7:01 and, after they installed it and hauled away the old washer, were gone by 7:15.

I was so happy, I was doing dance moves I haven't been able to do since the late 80s.

I have to thank my mother and father-in-law (or "fairy godparents of smiling, happy couples" as I like to call them) for their awesome gift. They took pity on the people I have to interact with at the Laundromat and decided to intervene on their behalf. They knew I was down to my last nerve and the chains holding me back from doing serious damage to people hogging all the carts, dryers, tables, wouldn't keep me back for much longer.

Thank you Mom and Pop R.!

Here is a picture of my beautiful new washer. See how it spins for me??

Here is a picture of it standing nobly next to my dryer (which will hopefully be replaced in March).

My heart sings for you, my beautiful washer!

Later that morning, Andy cleaned out the garage (with some help from me) (but it was mostly me standing around saying stuff like "ewww! Look at all the spider eggs!" and Andy correcting me by saying "They're spider SACKS, Bee" and me saying "look, they can be spider eggs, sacks or balls for all I care because they are still EWWW!" and then him telling me to get out of the garage because he didn't need me jumping around every time I thought something was crawling on me and knocking over his elaborate balancing crap-o-stuff.).

After the flood of 2008, we stored a bunch of stuff in the garage. Materials, tools, stuff I bought on ebay which years later has me wondering what kind of drugs I was on (must have been good ones):

I know I just became cooler in your eyes.

When I opened the box, I was stunned. Was I thinking about changing careers and trying to break into the clown industry? Holy crap!

To answer your unspoken question, no, I never wore them. Just opening the box now makes me want to disinfect my body. And to some extent, my mind.

We took a break in the middle of the day to have lunch at Costco. I know I've said I don't eat any of the samples because I'm afraid of contracting small pox, eating more than my daily recommended intake of other people's skin flakes AKA dust and being pressured into buying 80 lbs of crab salad (and I don't even like crabs, edible or otherwise) but my mom came with us and hit every sample table from the front to the back of the store.

She'd walk away with portions for herself, Andy and I. By the end of our stay, we had to be rolled out of there. The freakin place was packed but now I know why people go there at around 1 o'clock. Why pay $8 per person at Corner Bakery when you can eat for free?

After we were able to tear my mesmerized mother away from the Costco blender demonstrator (who thinks he's so cool because he has a Madonna microphone) (but I'm not impressed unless he sings Lucky Star and shines one me wherever I are), we made our way home and lived happily every after.

Well, until the free booze wore off.

Apparently spiders and ants have had the same Sensei in the ancient art of THE NINJA (said in reverent whisper).

We've had an ant problem at the Asylum for quite some time. These aren't the cute and cuddly little red ants either. They're the big ugly black ones. People would just brush them off the table, wall, shoulder, SANDWICH and shrug as if to say "meh, I've had worse disease ridden/riddled creatures on my tuna fish!" Me? I'm not so blasé so you would typically hear my cries of "Die you exoskeleton shit eater!", some mad stomping and then my coffee would kick in.

The dramaedy didn't reach its drama until someone found an ant walking around the toilet seat (I'm hoping before they lowered their dra'ws to sit on said seat) then all hell broke loose! All of a sudden it was imperative an exterminator came and uh exterminated the ants! We are not just talking about tuna fish anymore people! Now we have them attacking us were they can do the most damage!

So we called Norm.

Norm:

Where are these alleged ants?

Us:

Everywhere.

Norm:

Well, can you tell me where you've seen them?

Us:

EvErYwHeRe!

Norm:

So not just in the kitchen??

Bee:

For shitake's sake Norm! EVERYWHERE!!

Norm:

Language young lady!-- Did you say *shitake*? Okay, I'll have an exterminator out today.

And so he was true to his word and we had an emergency visit from the bug killer. I didn't see what the dude did because it was Friday and I left at THREE ON THE DOT, after telling OZ I was not going to have our weekly Friday meeting because he had the pig virus and I'd rather he keep it to himself, but when I came in on Monday morning, I asked if he had left little invitations for all ants and their distant relatives inviting them over for a nice cup of tea. Why? Because the ants TRIPLED!

I don't know about you but to me the word "exterminate" means to destroy!, eliminate!, eradicate!, that which bugs you. Clearly there had been a misunderstanding!

After I Michael Jacksoned my way out of the kitchen, it was decided Mr. Ex-Terminator-he-ain't (head roll, finger snap) would have to come back for another once over (or as I like to call it "do your effing job and kill those suckers before they start hitching rides in my clothes!)

I suggested buying a big vat of chocolate and putting a sign on the table that said "Get your chocolate covered ants here!" but the women just wrinkled their noses at me. Yeaaah! I'm the gross one!

When the exterminator dude showed up I thought, "no wonder the ants aren't afraid of this shorts, Hawaiian shirt, tanning lotion wearing parrot head!". He walked in (announcing his presence to everybody in the waiting room) and asked us where we had seen the ants.

All together now:

Everywhere!

He was carrying a paper bag and pulled out a couple of these:

I heard tiny, mocking laughter.

This makes me wonder if exterminators need proper training and credentialing because really I could just slap on a sticker on the ass of my car that says "Bee, exterminator to the stars" and then walk around dropping these little things everywhere I go like a fumigating angel of death. Where did Norm find this guy? Cheech and Chong play Magnum PI casting rejects? Okay, I know that's mean and he must be a very nice pot smoking/Jimmy Buffet fan and I may be just lashing out because I'm tired of squirming and battling things on my face that are just wisps of my hair!

For now, I think it's safest to eat with a lunch buddy. That way, if any ninja ants are making their way towards my Lean Cuisine, there will be 4 eyes keeping vigil. Well, 8 if you count our glasses.

Yesterday, while gardening, I realized it was hard to be the creator.

I was digging up patches of grass yesterday and as I was pulling it up piece by piece, I found out why it had begun to brown. Our side yard is infested with grubs. I would post a picture but those damn things are the ugliest looking insects I have ever seen. They are the Benicio del Toro of bugs.

As I was throwing the diseased grass into a container for future storage (to throw at my enemies when they piss me off more than usual), I thought about how the rest of the insects were going to suffer because I was removing their habitat. The poor earth worms I was accidentally chopping in half due to my shovel. There was one in particular that made me think about the injustice that is nature (survival of the fittest- or in my case, survival of those with bigger digging apparatuses).

I had just lifted a big chunk of grass when I noticed the poor little worm trying to move the other half of its body. Unfortunately, I must have smashed it when I inserted the shovel to get better leverage because the other half was just not moving.

It kept lifting itself up and it almost seemed like it was looking back at its limp tail(?) and wondering what the hell was going on. So I stood with my shovel debating if I should put it out of its misery or just leave it be. What do I know about worm injuries? Will it live on to be 200 in worm years without the use of its full body?

Then I started wondering if it too was asking why this was happening. I was basically ending the world as it knew it and making it suffer because of some stupid grubs that spoiled it for the rest of them. The grass was no more and in its stead were barren pieces of dirt because a destructive species abused the natural resources and decided to suck the life out of the lawn which was home to so many creepy crawlies.

Creepy crawlies that love climbing up women who stand around pondering too much. Creepy Crawlies that are slimy and icky... BAM! I cut the sucker in half and good riddance!

As vengeance for my version of the apocalypse, when I went to bed, every time I closed my eyes I saw an army of worms, spiders and ants coming at me. It was scary-gross but a little awesome because they did look cute in their army hats.

P.S.

We have treated some of our lawn with grub killer but I'm removing chunks so that I may expand my garden. I'm telling you this so that I don't get a comment that says "Uh why are you removing your grass one blade at a time when you can just kill the little bastards, you dumbass??" and really that's uncalled for.

Just for you, Orion. "The Moth and the Bee (with some guest appearances by crazy hyenas)."

It was an average night in Chicagoland. The heroine of the story had just taken her dogs out for the last time and was standing in her kitchen singing to Bon Jovi's “Bad medicine” (and maybe MAYBE doing some crazy dance but we cannot confirm that information) when she decided to have a bowl of Rice Krispies.

She remembered back to Monday when she had bought the box of Rice Krispies from Mernards because it was $2, a bargain in this economy to be sure. She hadn’t had this particular cereal since about 1993 because she had outgrown the need for cereal with a little milk and a lot of sugar and was more into things that rhyme with gooze (booze, in case you were wondering). Well, she’d had them in the form of Rice Krispies treats but they cease to be cereal once you’ve added melted butter and marshmallows.

She took a red ladybug bowl from her cabinet and prepared her cereal. She then debated whether she should sit at the table like a normal human being or if she should sit on the sofa like a philistine.

As she was setting up the pillows so she may sit cross-legged on the sofa, might as well be as unladylike as possible, she hoped she would be able to balance the bowlful of cereal and milk and she shooed the dogs that were waiting for the tiniest of spills in order for them to descend like hyenas.

So she sat, watched TV, ate, mocked the dogs, admired her terrarium, when all of a sudden! She noticed 2 moths doing air acrobatics near her terrarium. “OH NO!” she thought, “If Andy sees them he’ll for sure think we’re breeding them in the house just to torture him!” She valiantly stood up and chased after those pesky moths determined to end their existence! She ran around her living room, cereal bowl in hand, and tried to cup them with her free hand. She was able to grab one and she shmooshed it and flung it to the floor where the hyenas waited.

After she did her happy dance, still careful not to spill her precious Rice Krispies, she looked high and low for the other moth but she finally admitted defeat when she couldn’t find it. She took one last look in her terrarium and didn’t see the little pest so then she stood and wondered when she had last watered her cacti (snicker). She scooped a spoonful of cereal and opened her mouth wide— only to have the moth do a kamikaze suicidal revenge mission into her mouth!

As she inhaled to yell for help, all was lost.

[killer moth photo from rickastro.com] 

The surprise attack took her by, well um surprise, so she jerked around like a hillbilly with new shoes thereby spilling all contents of the bowl on herself and the awaiting hyenas.

And so ends the sad tale of a Bee, a moth, some hyenas and snap, crackle and pop.

Thanks Orion! For making me relive that horror!!!!

And now for some Milton.

Milton and I had a falling out a few weeks back. She decided I turned 15 instead of 35 so in her opinion, I needed to learn a few lessons. Doesn’t matter what the argument was about, what matters is that she was wrong and I was right. Shocking, I know.

Today I took a payment from a patient. I almost never do that because I avoid all patients like I avoid babies covered in poo. I had no choice this time around since I was watching the front desk while CL emptied her bladder.

The patient gave me his $20 co-pay, I slipped it into the designated plastic envelope they keep in the desk, wrote his receipt, wrote it on the visit slip, made a copy of it in triplicate and smudged my thumbprint on the form after I'd dipped it in blood to prove I had taken someone’s cash. In other words, I followed all protocol and SHOULD have been on easy street.

Ah, how the innocent must live such a simple life when not afflicted with Mad Bat Disease.
Why?, you ask, well friend (can I call you friend? or would you prefer Goomba?), when Milton took the envelope to transfer the whopping $20, she misplaced the envelope.

I was then called upon to describe this infamous $20 bill. Did it have any distinguishing birth marks? Tattoos? Any missing fingers? How about the hair color?

This led me to ponder which would be worse, death by cotton ball suffocation, overdose by nasal spray or being talked to death by a one dimensional accountant.

I CAN’T FIND THE DOOR TO MY HAPPY PLACE PEOPLE!!

.
P.S.
She found it near the office bathroom. The $20 was exactly as I’d described it. Green with a picture of some dude on the front.

Humor-Blogs

The day I met a guy with soft Soft SOFT hands.

Okay. I don’t know when this affliction started I really don’t. I don’t remember having issues in my teens but maybe my brain hadn’t completely lost its path to saneness. Naw, who am I kiddin’ I’ve always been this SPECIAL.

Anyway, last week, an attorney decided he wanted to meet the legend that is *I* in person. He asked if we could schedule a lunch —neutral territory I’m assuming— so we may discuss his request on reducing our fees by 20%.

That doesn’t sound like allot right? 20%? Well, that would reduce our fees by $24,000 and we were offering a very generous $12,000. I stuck to my guns for a few weeks so this was his desperate attempt to talk some *sense* into me.

I had to refuse the offer of lunch (we try not to leave work during the day so as not to scare the normal folk) but I spoke to OZ who told me to invite him on over to the asylum.

By some evil prank played by the devil himself! I forgot all about it and wore regular business casual clothes (with a small bleach stain on the butt which I didn’t notice until I took off my pants later that day!) (I took off my pants to put on a pair of shorts WHEN I WAS HOME I don't want you thinking those thoughts in my presence) and not my usual showered, slicked-out, lacquered-up, killer-shoes, very businessy attire I wear when meeting with OZ and/or other dangerous people.

CL called me as soon as the attorney arrived. I went out to greet him and he ::shudder:: extended his hand ::gag:: and I took it ::bugh:: and it was super smooth and SOFT ::blech::!

Listen, I don’t want to come off looking like a Soft-ist in your eyes. I have nothing against men having baby smooth hands, I just don’t want them touching me.

I AM GETTING ALL TWITCHY JUST THINKING ABOUT IT!

And not the good kind of twitchy.

As soon as I let go, I wanted desperately to scrub my hand on the side of my pants! It was itchy and I could have sworn little bumps were forming on my palm!

When OZ, Glynda and I excused ourselves to discuss our negotiation, OZ asked me what I thought about the attorney, he seemed like a nice guy should we go ahead and accept his offer?

What do I say? I want the guy to leave because he’s giving me the heebie jeebies!

No! I must maintain my objectivity and professionalism but I found myself blurting:

“Give it to him! Sign whatever he wants!”

The moral of the story here is, yelling at me will not convince me you're right. Having soft hands, besides making me want to hurl, will get you further in the negotiations game.

I'm just telling you please don't tell anybody else! Well, you can tell all the people over at Humor-Blogs or maybe you can click on it anyway.

P.S.

If you are a man with soft hands, I wasn't trying to insult you... maybe just a little bit. You can always use a cheese grater to fix the problem. That's just a suggestion so don't sue me if it hurts or you pass out due to loss of blood.

MY chest hurts! I think I’m having a lopsided heart attack!

That’s when your heart hurts but the pain is not on your left side.

Get ready for another rant. Ready? Are you sure? This might not be up long. I might take it down since I don’t know how long this pissed-off-edness will last. Might last one day, it might take us into the next century!

I have 3 brothers and one sister. Ages 32, 31, (wait, my sister is 8 years younger than me I’m 35. 35-8 =?) 27 and 25. I have no serious issues with those above the age of 26 but the one below that age??? I want to slap him so hard his silly cheeks will touch his toes!!!

I don’t understand!

We were all raised by the same mother so how can he be so different from the rest of us??

He was the first to cry out for independence, moved to New York and bummed around but finally came back after a year, skinner than death and even more lacking in family social skills.

He doesn’t want anybody’s advice because EVERYBODY IS WRONG but he will ask for money or favors when he needs them. He judges us for taking our jobs seriously “It’s just a job man!” Uh yeah, one that helps when you ask me to borrow money for the bus man!

Enablers, that’s what we are.

About 2 weeks ago I asked him to stop using the text option on his phone because we got a $70 bill for usages on his line alone. We are only supposed to be dishing out $9.99 and now he cost us 7 times that??

He apologized said he would stop but guess the fuck what? I checked on his phone and he is now up to $143!!

Seriously???

How was my message misinterpreted? Please, someone explain to me how me saying “Stop it!” turned into “Dude, you know what? I’d like you to text every one of your fuckin little loser friends just to say things like ‘wzup guy wtcha doin’?’ because I feel like this will help strengthen the muscles in my heart so that when I finally have THE BIG ONE I will be able to drive myself to the hospital without the need of an ambulance!”

Thanks LITTLE brother! I KNEW I could count on you!

What?

You think I should keep personal family bizness out of my blog?

Tough shit there Sparky because now you pissed me off! Before, when it was $75 -almost two full tanks of gas-, I could control my heart beats by breathing slowly but now THAT IT IS ALMOST DOUBLE??
Well, breathing slowly won’t cut it because I might just lose too much oxygen and the 6 brain cells I have left might start knocking into each other. Where will we be then? Will you take care of me? Will you pay my fuckin’ bills?

But! Here is my solution. That Stimulus Package we are all coveting? You will get to see me cash it after you've signed it and MAYBE I’ll give you bus fare.

::sigh::

I know what you’re going to say, ‘bump him off your plan’.

One day, one day my heart will indeed be ice and he’ll have to walk that high wire without his chump of a safety net!

See that? And I don't even have kids! I shouldn't have this type of stress in my life!

Another Monday that sucked monkey balls! Can you guys please click on Humor-Blogs for me even if you know all I do is rant?

PSA# 5478 Hacking vs Coughing.

-Day 5 in my quest to not bore your lives with my everyday "musings". Musings... HA! More like mumblings! My dogs keep asking me when I'll give up, they mock me and call me names. One of their favorites is "Woofbarkwoofwoof!!" I don't know what that means but I know they're being jerky!-

.

Bad news.

I am now coming down with a cold. I know what you're gonna say "What? I don't think I can take your complaining anymore!" Well, you know what I'm gonna tell you, click Humor-Blogs on your way out.

Anyway, I want to give my fellow women some advice. When you're sick with an infectious disease, please don't spread it around as if it were cream cheese on a bagel!

This is the proper way:

Lady-like way to cough.

::cough. cough. cough.::

Into a hankie.

Wrong way:

Unlady-like way to hack.

HHJJHHAAACKKKK!! JUACCCKKK!!! JUACCCKKKAAACKK!!!

Into EVERYBODY'S FACE!!

Thanks allot Milton you disease-infested-super-germaniac!!!

Now I’m dying of a cold! Anonymous will be so upset!

.

By the way, if you're wondering why I would put a link to my shameful review, quite simply it's because I have no shame! Nah, the reviews weren't that bad but the score was pitiful. PITY-FULL! ;o)

I refuse to be bullied into getting a life!

Sacrebleu !!

"Anonymous said...
I find it offensive that you are over dramatizing your stomach flu when there are real people in the world suffering from terminal illnesses. You've had discomfort for a couple of days. So what? How about you get a life!
December 30, 2007 3:56 PM"

Does that mean "Sacred Blood"? Cuz I was going for "Holy Shit".

Dear anonymous, if the subliminal message I was sending with my last post was, "I have no sympathy for terminally ill people" I apologize.

The message I was trying to send but must have taken the wrong notes on "Subliminal Messaging 101" was: "Send me money."

I wonder if I misplaced a comma? That can make a world of a difference!

Anyway, won't you feel silly when you find out that I was at the brink of death. Will you feel bad when I tell you something happened to me that nearly made my eyes roll to the back of my head forever? Will I have your sympathy then? Because I really really want it.

Well, I'm gonna take my chances and tell you, hoping that you came back of course.

You see, even though I was better on Saturday, I still couldn't have the food I usually stuff myself with. Then!! Andy decided to order from my favorite pizza place (Giordano's) and order the most de-lish pizza in the world. When the aroma started floating to my little nose... [excuse me a second, I'm having a relapse ::shiver::]

Sorry about that, when I smelled the pizza, I nearly died knowing I couldn't have any!!

I. NEARLY. DIED.

Don't worry, you don't have to leave me an anonymous apology. I know you feel terrible.

......movin' on.......

Well, I had plans to tell you guys that I have now put Archibald the Ugly out on the curb but I ran out of time!!

I also wanted to wish you guys a:

Happy New Year!!

But now I'm distracted.

Just so you guys know, 2008 is the year of the rat. Yours truly will have an awesome year! (Anonymous, that means: I. will. have. an. awesome. year.)

When Irish Eyes are Smilin'... (well Non-Irish Eyes)

So...
I have to warn all of y'all that the Bee you've come to know and love might be a little sickly sweet once in a while.

I know you're used to my hard hitting edge and no bullshit attitude [::snicker::] but you might be surprised to get sensitive Bee every now and then.

I'm telling you this because I don't want you to say... "What the crap! Did I just enter Rainbow Brite land?" The answer to that would be "HELL NO!" I will just have a day or two out of the month where I might be nice.

We can call it RPMS (Reverse Pre-Menstrual Syndrome) (Did you just cringe? Why? We're all adults here.) (Well, I'm almost an adult...)

AN-Y-WAY...

I have a very good reason. You see... on October 7th (Sergio's birthday) HAPPY BIRTHDAY SERGIO!! 2007 at about oh... 4:00 pm-ish. My little sister Nancy, the little one that's 8 whole years younger than I am, made an announcement in this fashion.

As we are all gathered for dinner to celebrate Sergio's birthday she says, "I'd like to take a family picture of everybody before we eat."

Now... I'm starving, I hadn't eaten anything since I was saving myself for some yumo-licious Mom made Enchiladas but we all grudgingly said okay.

She asked us to pose and said, "Say cheese and I'm pregnant." Everybody is kind of confused so we laugh but brother Dan and Natalia say "Cheese I'm pregnant" now, it's a cold day in hades before you can catch all of us off guard. One, maybe two of us but never all of us at once so we kind of look at each other while Dan and Natalia are still saying "Cheese I'm pregnant" (I just want to say it was really disturbing to hear these words coming from them.)

Then as if somebody slapped us all at the same time we get up to fight for the first hug! I, of course, came out victorious since I just shoved everybody the heck outta my way!

So there you have it ladies and gents! I will be an aunt again! Me! Too bad you can't see me right now cuz you'd see I'm dancing like a fool as I'm typing this! (doing an Irish jig which is impressive because I'm not Irish) (I'm not doing it very well either so maybe it's best you can't see me!)

Oh yeah... and uh... congrats to my sis and her hubby! I mean they deserve some credit for this momentous occasion! You can't all be congratulating me.

Also, before her husband came over (he was working therefore unable to attend dinner, he was supposed to have the day off but... well anyway) I asked the guys what the appropriate congratulatory thing I say to him should be:

"Nice shot!"

"Way to hit a target!"

"Good goin' Texan!'

"You knocked up my little sister, naissse!"

"You have strong swimmers!"

And other more inappropriate ones which I can't post due to the fact that his mom reads my blog (No, that's not the reason I just don't remember them right now. Sorry Mrs. Texan's Mom ;o)... )

What I did was clap and hoot as soon as he walked thru the door.
Yeah, I'm classy like that.

Mom's house

<--posing with fake surprise

P.S.

No, I'm not in any of these pictures...

Trick or Treat? Stalker Strikes Again!

My stalker strikes again!

Sending me an empty wrapper of a most delicious 3 Musketeer, how evil and cold blooded is that?!

-

I'm on my way to the lab to have this analyzed.

Who knows what they'll find!

-

P.S.

-

Should I move?

-

-

**SPECIAL EDIT**

-

Upon analyzing the envelope and contents closer, I'm not as afraid as I was due to this little piece of evidence.

You can't be scaurd of someone that puts a heart stamp on a threatening package.

I took a drug test...

Your Personality Is Like Cocaine

You're dynamic, brilliant, and alluring to those who don't know you. Hyper and full of energy, you're usually the last one to leave a party. Sometimes your sharp mind gets the better of you... you're a bit paranoid!

"dynamic, brilliant, and alluring to those who don't know you"

Why is this thing insulting me?? I want answers people! Who runs these things so that I can go over there and show them in person how "dynamic, brilliant, and alluring" I really am!

And try again! If it's a party I'm the one that sits closest to the door so I can be the first to leave! It obviously doesn't know what it's talking about!

What?

Did you just tell me to get a life?!

Or am I being paranoid? Why is this red? Ooh pretty colors...

The Rambler

So...

Tuesday night Andy and I went to see the Bourne Ultimatium.
I just want to say that Matt Damon as Jason Bourne = Hot!

We went to a new theater that just opened up by our house and you know what I realized about myself?
My like or dislike of a movie theater is solely based on their Nachos.
This new movie theater gets two thumbs down!

RE: The Freakin' Mosquito Bites!!! <-color of my blood

I want to thank all the "well wishers" that are predicting when exactly my West Nile Virus symptoms will start showing up.
No. Really. Thanks.
I'm not worried at all!
Thank you from the bottom of my... middle finger!

Here is my theory (or denial):

If any or all of those (bloodthirsty sons/daughters of one winged mothers) mosquitos had the West Nile Virus, I would like to believe that my blood cured them.
Not only did it cure them but anybody else they bit after me has now got Beebadassness Syndrome.
Look out world, I may be coming to a neighborhood near you!
No need to thank me, as I've stated before, I'm just a public servant. (that says "public" right? yeah? okay!)
And to Brother Dan and Husband (for how long hmmm??) Andy I say 'way to gang up on the short girl wusses!' :op

On to the Mall

I was so stressed I had to buy myself something nice.
Maybe you guys can tell the undertaker to put these on me in case... well you know!
Are they super cool or what! I got 'em on sale for a fraction of their original price! Since Andy tortured me at dinner with the help of my traitor sibling I made him pay for them.
Dontcha love that my mind is in the right place?
So pretty.

At least bugs love me...

Things you don’t want your husband to say as you’re walking thru mosquito infested forest preserves.

‘We should really start wearing “OFF” I heard on the radio some guy whose wife went into a coma and died after she got West Nile Virus from a mosquito.’

How many mosquito bites did I have by that time?

FOUR!

How many did I have by the time I got home?

SEVEN!

Flies and their Mothers

Sooooo. I’ve decided I have too many mirrors in my bathroom…(in my opinion one is one too many cuz I really don’t enjoy the sight of myself but anyway…) let me tell you why.

It’s like 11:20 PM husband Andy had already pestered me about bed time but I had to finish my recorded "So You Think You Can Dance" episode that brother Dan got me hooked on. Now as I’m going around the house checking if doors are locked shutting off lights, you know usual routine, I see a fly that has snuck into the house.
My theory on how it got in: Riding on Mocha’s back, hanging on to her collar cuz as you may or may not know she is somewhat of an airhead (yes, little one, you are). I screen the bugs that come into my house very carefully and only allow SOME spiders, usually the Daddy Long Leg variety, so they can get rid of pesky sneaky flies and those stupid little bugs that sometimes attach themselves to your plants.
I just noticed I typed in Daddy Long Leg singular, I would like to correct that to LEGS plural cuz if I ever see a Daddy Long Legs with only ONE long leg he/she won’t make the cut, I mean, how is he/she gonna compete with all the other spiders he/she’d starve to death and I won’t have that on my hands! Hey this is supposed to be about flies not spiders!
Ummm… where the heck was I? Hold on let me read what I’ve written so far…
Okay yeah, fly in the house. Now on a normal day I would run around trying to usher it out of my house to at least my back porch but as I said, it was Eleven-ish I was tired, so instead I gave it some advice ‘If I were you, I’d get the hell outta my house on your own cuz if I do it for you it won’t be pretty. So… you better not still be here in the morning!’ Feeling like I threatened it sufficiently, I grabbed my PAJAMAS and headed for the bathroom. I’m brushing my teeth when I notice the stinkin’ fly has followed me in there! Obviously my threats meant nothing! It (I couldn’t tell if it was man or woman so we’ll say IT), flew to my right then to my left… mocking me!
For those of you who have not been in my bathroom (you’re lucky) I’d like to paint a picture of it for you (not literally cuz it’s only an OK bathroom, no need to immortalize it). I have a mirrored medicine cabinet that’s like 100 feet tall and 50 feet wide or whatever it’s just huge. Behind me is a set of those mirrored tile things (4 of ‘em) in a diamond pattern and to my left side is another set of those mirrored tile things (4 of ‘em). The previous owner must have really liked to look at himself!
My dilemma… since I think this fly is insulting me on purpose, I decide to put on my war hat and go after it! I, of course, do not keep any bug spray in my bathroom. So the next best thing would be… yup Clorox bleach spray. I grab it and as an after thought grab our toothbrushes with my left so that I don’t accidentally poison ‘em in the fight. So I’m standing in the middle of my bathroom with bleach in my right hand and our toothbrushes in my left. And I start spraying but this wiley frickin fly just laughed at me and flew around me. I know what you’re thinking… how can a fly get the best of you? I agree so what I did next was something I thought was brilliant. I stood still and decided to use the mirrors to my advantage. I looked at my medicine cabinet and just let that be my guide. So instead of twirling around like a LUNATIC spraying randomly, I just watched it in the mirrors. The one thing I did not take into consideration was… If I’m looking at a mirror that’s facing another mirror (hope I didn’t lose you), the position of the fly will not be what I THINK it is…
AHHHH SOOOO Grasshopper! My bleach sprays were falling onto the opposite direction! All of a sudden I start coughing… no, this was not a superfly with magical poisoning chemical powers. YOU have nothing to worry about! I on the other hand was poising myself! But I can’t open the door to the bathroom because then It might make a run for it… I can’t risk it ::sigh::
As the chemicals start messing with my brain, I stand there, wondering where my life went wrong…? All I was gonna do was change into my PJ's, brush my teeth and go to sleep! What was Mocha doing? Sleeping!
From far off I heard a voice of encouragement… ‘It’s OK Bee, don’t get mad cuz you can’t adapt to seeing in multiple views. The fly has had a whole life time of seeing this way, be brave brave brave…’
I stood up, I hadn’t realized it but I was sitting on the floor looking for… well I don’t know what… anyway… I stood up and saw that it was by the top of my medicine cabinet I let off a stream of sprays and IT finally started flailing about in the air! Yes! It was only a matter of time! Sure enough it dropped to the sink where I proceeded to turn on the water and watch it spiral down the drain! I kept staring at the drain feeling like I was about to be sucked in too… Oh right… open the door so you’ll get fresh air dummy! Success! Success! woowhooo! Yeah Baby! I’m patting myself on the back doing a touchdown dance when all of a sudden I look around… Every square inch of my ever-lovin’ bathroom is soaked with bleach! So guess what I was doing at midnight? Ding ding ding give the people a cookie! I had to clean my bathroom and let me give you some advice:
Number One: Invest in a fly swatter.
Number Two: Don’t spray bleach on mirrors. It’s really hard to come off and leaves them streaky even after you use Windex.
Number Three: If you mix Windex and bleach make sure you are in a very well ventilated area cuz I think it says somewhere you’re not supposed to mix ammonia with bleach… my lungs are still burning
Number Four: Don’t threaten a fly unless you are really serious and willing to deal with the consequences cuz they’re dangerous!
Number Five: Get rid of ALL mirrors in your home, office, car (well no, maybe not your car cuz I don’t want you to back into someone and blame it on me) etc.
Number Six: Make sure the medicine cabinet is within your reach cuz if you spray it with bleach and cannot reach it to wipe it off, it will look RI-DON-CULAS with all those little specks of dried bleach spray!

and last but not least…

Number Seven: Don’t trust your pets! They’ll betray you in an instant! Loyalty of dogs my ass! That little Bitch (not a swear word this is the technical term for female dogs) was dreaming about biscuits while I was dying in the bathroom!

In my defense, I am not the only one that has had problems with insects and dealt with them in an... let’s say ODD manner. Please see this post.

Also, I know my sister is laughing her budonkadonk off right now because she has been witness to my weaker moments...

Moment of Silence

Let's all have a moment of silence for Ceasar the Centipede...

He passed away this weekend due to severe exposure to bright light.

I can remember gazing at him and being overwhelmed with the need to look away due to his luminous personality.

Sometimes when he moved he would make me feel as if one hundred tiny feet were crawling on my neck.

I also hope his family has moved away so as not to meet the same fate.

Let's bow our heads and remember the many bright moments he brought us.

He will be missed by those of us who looked up to him.

Friday Afternoon

Today started weird so I shouldn’t be surprised it’s continuing to be an odd day. My office has been on a somewhat vacation this week because the head honcho, the Wizard of Oz, took this week off. Added to that The Purple Dino-SOUR is off too so I’ve enjoyed this week allot thank you very much!
Now I don’t know whether to feel sad or happy that it’s Friday!
I’ll make a Pros and Cons list:

PRO: I’m off at 3:00 today since the Wizard isn’t here I don’t have my Friday meeting.
PRO: I told my mommy and Niece Natalia that we will be going to IKEA so I guess that’s a definite thing to look forward with the exception of…
CON: Spending too much money
CON: Monday marks the return of the Wizard and a continuation of our frenzied work life.
PRO: Dan and Marie are having a garage sale Saturday which will include yummilicious food (Hopefully Puerto Rican rice, hint hint)
CON: Monday marks the return of the Purple Dino-SOUR and her saccharine phony sweetness.
PRO: I get to wake up late (well to be honest, I wake up late everyday so maybe that one should only count 1/3 of a point)
PRO: Milton has been upset with Glinda (the good witch) all week so I don’t have to hear about it for 2 days.

OKAY Here is the biggest PRO of all!!!!!!!!! I just looked up at my ceiling seeking inspiration from the fluorescent light bulbs and noticed a millipede or centipede or whatever-the f**k-you-wanna-call-it-pede trying to get out of the screen thing that’s covering the bulbs!
It is seriously about an inch and a half long! WTF! That’s all I can think about now so I’ll be happy when I can get the hell outta here! It just keeps walking back and forth back and forth…
Okay, now anything that touches my face or legs is freaking me out! I took a pic of it with my cell phone but you can’t see it that well. SEE IT?