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.

You know how sometimes you want to do something because you think "how bad can it be?" and then your brain tries to talk you out of it by reminding you of that one time you shoplifted and your mom spanked you so hard the brand name of her shoe is still stenciled to your ass? Yeah, it's like that!

I am an intelligent person. I swear I am. But sometimes oh my lord can I make stupid decisions!

It all started a week ago when I was going to make cheesy salsa dip. It involves only 2 things. Salsa and cream cheese. In order to mix the two, the cream cheese needs to be softened so I took out a brick of Philly Cream Cheese, accept no substitutions,  and let it sit on the counter for a little while. The little while turned out to be a week because we ran out of chips for dipping then we forgot to buy more then I became sidetracked etc.

Well, on Sunday, I decided to make a fruit cocktail that is infamous in our house. One of the ingredients is cream cheese. We bought 2 fresh bricks, I mixed everything together, then tasted it. Bleh! Too sweet! I thought to myself "gee! I wish had one more thing of cream cheese! ... Wait a minute!"

Does anyone else see where this is going?

I opened the package that had sat on my counter for about 2 weeks (yes, it probably was 2 weeks) and did a sniff test. The smell of cream cheese isn't a pleasant one to begin with so that didn't work.

Okay, I'll just TASTE it. I licked it- just kidding! I'm not an animal! I take a little piece and put it in my mouth, not bad! I taste a bigger piece JUST TO BE SURE! Still tastes good. In my head, I'm thinking the warning to keep refrigerated is a gross exaggeration! This thing has been out for at least 3 weeks (yes, may have been about 21 days) and it's fine! It's probably because the kitchen was so cold- without thinking, I take another piece and eat it as I'm rummaging through the fridge for orange juice that's when I notice I do have another container of cream cheese so I decide to use that instead. Better safe than sorry, you know?

I threw out the old warm cream cheese that was still perfectly fine and used the refrigerated one. My desert came out great once I de-sweeten it and we lived happily ever after! Only not!

Currently, I'm sitting at my desk (okay, computer cart!) waiting for Freddy Krueger to rip his way out of my stomach so that I may finally be at peace! The pain is un-freakin-bearable! Seriously. If I'm ever taken hostage and the terrorists want to make me spill the recipe for my pulled pork sandwiches all they have to do is give me expired cream cheese and wait 20 minutes.

This will go on my "do not do ever again!" list. Along with 'rub eyes after cleaning red pepper shaker' 'stick hands in shark tank' 'walk out in 10 degree weather while rocking flip flops' 'tap dance on thin ice' Well, let's face it, the list goes on and on.

 

Bloggers! Don't forget to join the Secret Santa Can Suck It Year Deux!

Where we give someone we don't know pretend gifts that may make them laugh or cry (for bonus points!). Email me at beesmusings@gmail.com

If you need details go HERE if you want examples from last year go HERE if you think I need therapy go HERE.

Thanks to all those who have signed up so far. It's gonna be awesome!

The true test of intelligence is finding a way to cheat by just stumbling upon it blindly. Yes it is!

As a way to help our home economics, I have been looking for a part time job.
Andy is dead set against it because I will not be at his bellow and call ("Bee! I can't find my slippers!" while he's wearing said slippers)  but I look at it as a way to push ourselves over that little slump. He finally said he'd stop giving me crap about it but suggested I look for something I liked. I told him I liked buying shoes but I doubted there was anybody out there willing to pay me to buy myself shoes.
I decided to just put as many applications out in the hopes of getting a few nibbles. I think any job would do because I don't feel like anything is *beneath me*. Except being a hooker. I draw the line at that.
In this day and age, applications are mostly taken online. I applied to most of the retail giants and then decided to apply to a couple of places near me, one of them being a craft store with locations all over the US.
To be honest, I don't know the difference between lace and tulle but I thought I could BS my way through the application. See example answer to the question "why do you love crafts":
"I love crafts because it gives me the opportunity to bond with my 6 y/o niece over something productive!"
It sounds like something I would say, right?
However! I did not count on the online application consisting of 3 parts. 3 parts! To work in a place that sells googly eyes.
DO THEY KNOW WHO I AM? I WORK AT ARKHAM ASYLUM!
This application was more time consuming than the one I had just completed for a drugstore that sells, you know, DRUGS!
Here are the 3 parts.
Personal:
Where they ask you for your address, work experience and if it's okay to do a credit and background check.
Mmm okay? I promise to pay off those boots once I get the job and I'm pretty sure I was cleared of the library incident where I "accidentally" walked out with a book in my bag when I was 9 .
That was the easy part and only took about 2 minutes to fill out.
Next we have:
Common Sense/Problem Solving/Intelligence:
This test/questionnaire had 60 questions with a disclaimer that read "we know you won't be able to answer all the questions in the allotted time of 10 minutes, do your best"
I shook my head in disbelief because I have always hated taking tests and here I was taking one for a job I didn't really want where the employees, from prior experiences, are not, by any stretch of the imagination, Mensa candidates (which, by the way, Mensa in Spanish means dumb girl).
Anyway, back to the quiz. I did what any mediocre great  blogger would do and highlighted the questionnaire so I may copy and paste it on word to show you guys and my family.
Guess what? Once I highlighted it, it gave me all the answers! You all know how much I love to cheat so . . . Score!! I will be classified as a genius that finished the 60 question test with a perfect score under 10 minutes. Take THAT Mensa!

---

Solve the following problem and click the option box that contains the correct answer.
A box can hold 4 books.  How many books can 5 boxes hold?
a) 9   b) 10   c) 20   d) 30
√ Answer: You should have selected 20.

---

Read the following definition and choose the first letter of the word that best fits it.
An open area free of woods and buildings
E
F
G
Q
√ Answer: The word is FIELD.  The letter F is selected because it is the first letter of the word FIELD.

---

I mean, these seemed to be swiped form Mensa's website under the category they call ""FUN TEST""! I know some people like to test their brain power but I just need my brain to get me to the pot of coffee in the morning and then home at 5 o'clock. See examples:

---

1. Sally likes 225 but not 224; she likes 900 but not 800; she likes 144 but not 145. Which does she like?
a) 1600    b) 1700
Answer: Sally is a gold digger.

---

2. If two typists can type two pages in two minutes, how many typists will it take to type 18 pages in six minutes?
a) 3   b) 4   c) 6   d) 12   e) 36
Answer: Trick question. The truth lies in the butterfly.

---

3. If it were two hours later, it would be half as long until midnight as it would be if it were an hour later. What time is it now?
a) 18:30    b) 20:00   c) 21:00   d) 22:00   e) 23:30
Answer: Somebody better tell me what time it is! If I miss The Office, I'll be pissed!

---

Even though I had a perfect score in the *smarter than a stump* part of the test, I could not get through the last portion of the application which was a 12 part questionnaire with a varying number of questions:
Mental Health/Personality:
Q: If a customer asks you an obvious question, would you help them and not convey your annoyance via facial expressions or verbal abuse such as "Really? You need to know where the fabric is? The giant cardboard roll of fabric right next to you isn't a clue?"
In other words, they want polite, friendly people.
I find this interesting because of an incident that happened when my mom and I were in there. I think I was looking for fake snow for my Christmas village and my mom was browsing in the fake flower section. She stumbled across a vase with a beautiful arrangement, she touched one of the fake flowers when all of a sudden a little Asian lady comes out of nowhere and starts yelling at my mom, telling her not to remove flowers from the display. I immediately make my way to them so that I may add her to my key chain collection of "people I have bitch slapped for being mean to my mom" when I realized my mom had it under control. She looked the woman in the eye and said "Shut up!". The Asian lady, stunned, walked away, shoulders hunched over in defeat.
Who was sleeping at the gate when they employed that dud?
Next question:
Q: If you see Bob hit a coworker over the head with a fake Christmas tree would you,
a) help your defenseless coworker
b) help Bob
c) hide and call the police
Well, it all depends on what that coworker did to Bob. Did he/she eat Bob's skittles? Because then I would hold him/her down while Bob went to town. And maybe would thrown in a couple of kicks myself. Some people need physical encouragement to behave.
I gave up on this part because there are only so many times I can answer the same question, worded differently, over and over again without tripping up and showing my true, blood thirsty, colors.
So screw you Craft Store. You missed out on one extraordinary employee! An employee that would bring you joy, booze and gentle mocking. An employee that would be late for work 55% of the time and early to leave 100% of the time. Not to mention my brute strength and ability to control "Bob's" psychotic outbursts. Your loss.

Nyquil Flashback + witness my rockin 90s style.

Me: ::laughing;:

Andy: What's so funny?

Me: I was remembering a scene on Glee when the "Acafellas" were singing "Poison". We were laughing so hard!

Andy: ?? Who were you watching it with?

Me: What?

Andy: You said "we were laughing so hard" I thought you watched it alone.

Me: Oh um yeah. I think. Wait. Who was I talking to?

Andy: Bee, I think you have a Nyquil problem.

Me: No. I'm sure I was talking to somebody!

Andy: Sure you were, babe. Where's your stash?

 

I have no freakin clue why I remember laughing with someone while watching Glee. If I was chatting with you or on the phone with you, please let me know because I need to convince Andy and "it's driving me out of my mind!"

"Acafellas"

 

Here's the Bell Biv Devoe video. The dancing was cheesy but... I cannot believe I used to dress like that! I used to go to "Rave" and buy like 6 of those hoochie stretch skirts for about five dollas.

Old school stylin!

There are very few pictures of me in that era and for that I'm grateful. The humiliation would be too much to bare. However! I did find this little gem which I'm posting because my brain cells are still swimming in medicine and I would never dream of opening that door of shame if I was lucid but you know what? I find the humor in this picture right now.

I have no idea WHY I was ""posing"" (super models of the world, you may breathe easy) but I blame it on the Southern Comfort. Also, why I didn't get closer to the chair so that it wouldn't look as awkward escapes me. I tried cropping it but then it looked like I was floating and that made me laugh and Tazz started barking. I'm assuming he was trying to talk sense into me.

::groan:: It was New Year's Eve so give the shawty a break!

Like those women who can't hold their liquor and then wake up to find they brought home the ugliest guy in the club, I'm sure I'll regret this in the morning.

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.

You know, there is a lot to be said for the couple that trusts each other implicitly with all things sacred. Even though you panic and cry the whole time.

Did I forget to mention Andy dyed my hair the weekend of my reunion??

Let me take you back to Saturday day of the lord August 22, 2009.

I was looking at my hair in the mirror and wondering how it was possible that the maroon/red highlight I paid $150 for only lasted 3 weeks leaving behind a brassy orangey pukey color. I made the decision that I would NOT go to my reunion looking like the Hamburglar's less fortunate sister. I looked through my cabinets and found an awesome dye I had from last year.

Here was my dilemma. I have never dyed my own hair. Or anyone else's for that matter. I went to the only other person who was home, ready to plead my case.

Bee: Will you dye my hair?

Andy [without looking away from the computer (before it went Kapluey)]: Sure.

Ahh that is love for you right there! Your heart is feeling all warm and fuzzy...

Until.

Until minuets later. When you're frantically squirming because you're sure he is applying the dye incorrectly and he's patting your head with his big paws, massaging the dye so hard you're sure you're scalp looks like this:

Bee: Dude! You're taking too long in one spot! Don't swirl my hair like that because it'll get tangled! It's not lathering! My hair doesn't even feel wet!

Andy: Settle down! It's fine! Bee! It's fine!!!

He squirted another miniscule drop of dye on the same spot he'd been working for 10 minutes and then shoved my head this way and that with his ginormas panda hands all the while I was stomping my feet because I knew my new nickname would be Streaky Sheila.

Andy: Stop fidgeting you big baby!

Bee: No! No! Stop! You're going to mess up my hair! Oh lord oh lord oh lord!!

Andy [jumping up and down]: You're freaking me out!

Bee [stands up]: Just give me the bottle! Give me the bottle!! I'll finish it! Oh man! I am so screwed holy crap!

We walk to the bathroom.

Andy [frenzied]: What was I doing wrong? I followed the instructions!

Bee: This should be quick Andy! It's not your fault, I blame myself!

Both of us hopping. I'm serious.

Andy [pacing]: Don't ask me next time okay?? Just don't!

Bee: No way am I going to this reunion. No way!

And of course the love I mentioned earlier turns to culpability.

Bee: If you had only applied the color to my hair and not my scalp, I wouldn't be freaking out!

Andy: If you wouldn't leave things to the last minute we wouldn't be having these issues! What do I know about dying hair?

Bee: Get out of the bathroom!! Get out get out!!

Andy: JERK!!

As I'm hysterically applying the rest of the dye and almost passing out from the noxious fumes, I can't decide if I'm angry at Andy or not. On the one hand he was trying to help and on the other hand he was too obstinate to relinquish control once I told him to stop.

I paced for 25 minutes and then took a shower to wash the dye off. As I was brushing my hair later, I couldn't bring myself to look in a mirror. Logically I knew it couldn't be that bad because the hairdresser dyed my hair black and nothing will alter black unless you bleach it out so I guess I don't know why I was in near tears. Lucky for me, everything turned out okay. My hair didn't fall out and it looked awesome. 

Stay tuned for the illustrated version on Sunday.

This post is brought to you by...*

I love watching commercials. I know that may not be a popular thing to say in this day of TiVos and DVRs but I enjoy a well crafted attempt to hypnotize me into obesity/alcoholism/gambling/promiscuity.

One of my favorite commercials right now is the one for Schick Quattro. I hope the creative minds behind this idea are, at this very moment, on a boat sipping champagne in St. Tropez.

It is seriously one of the best commercials I have ever seen. Take a look:

The first time I saw it, I laughed my ass off while Andy looked at me in confusion.

Bee: Don't you get it?

Andy: It's a commercial about a razor, so?

Bee: Do you see what's happening to the bushes as the women walk by them?

I rewind it so he can see the bushes.

Andy: I don't get it.

Bee: Good lord man! The woman walks by the bush and then it morphs into a more manicured shape!

Andy: ...?

Bee: Bush bush BUSH!! [gestures wildly]

Andy: Oh BUSH!! [nods and points]

::sigh:: I married an innocent!

Anyway, the reason I think this commercial is genius is because they don't give you specifics and yet they leave nothing to the imagination... without being tacky. And I know tacky!

In the name of blogscience, I will test out what the commercial advertises and walk in front of a bush.

Before:

After:

Ummmm, uh-oh?

*Alternate title "One in the hand is worth 2 in the bush"

When a marriage clears the 7 year itch milestone, isn't it time to throw out the anti-fungal ointment?

So… no comic today. I know I know we suck but it's just that Andy and I are having a small uh disagreeeement so we did not prepare anything because, in the time honored tradition of all arguments in the Cor-Rut household, we are each too stubborn to back down. Nothing major. No need to worry. We'll probably just wind up having a dance off to declare a winner.

It all started with Andy asking if I was going to clean out the fridge and me asking if he owned me and then him saying something about no iPhone for me and so I jumped up and said I was just kidding and haha he fell for it because that's exactly what I was going to do today because hello! I allotted all this extra time and even bought rubber gloves for the occasion. Ay-ay-ay. ::twitches nervously::

Everything was going well, moldy grapes- trashed. Mysterious stuff in Tupperware container- garbage! Container and all! All these things were approved by his highness to be disposed of... then we hit a glitch. When it was time to reorganize the freezer, I came across a plastic bag.

As some of you may remember, my Andy and I did not have a traditional wedding. We tied the knot and then a couple of months later had our backyard party. However, thanks to my awesome mother-in-law, we did have a beautiful cake.

Having never been married before and blocking out all weddings I’d ever attended, I was not aware that there was a peculiar tradition to save a piece of cake and then eat it at the one year anniversary mark but people were assuring me it would bring us good luck and a long, happy marriage. Some of these same people were divorced and on their second marriages but who am I to judge?

Since Andy and I hadn’t followed too many of the marriage traditions, we decided to follow this one. We did have a big piece of cake left, besides getting violent diarrhea, what could it hurt?

Exactly one year (and some months) later (shhh! we forgot on the anniversary and didn’t remember until we were making room in the freezer for yummy ribs) we opened up the freezer baggie, unfolded the paper it had been wrapped in and proceeded to sink our teeth into some tasteless saw dust. Mmmm

We each only had a small bite and decided that was enough to hopefully get us to our 30th wedding anniversary. We’d reevaluate our relationship after that. I grabbed the cake, baggy and all, and walked over to the garbage can to throw it out when Andy decided to voice his disagreement.

[conversation not from actual memory but I'm sure it went something like this because it sounds right in my head]

Andy:

What are you doing?

Bee:

Uh making cupcakes?

Andy:

Why are you going to throw the cake out? Shouldn’t we save it?

Bee:

For what? You want to age it like cheese and try it again next year?

Andy:

No, I just don’t think it would be good luck to throw it out.

Bee:

Would you like me to flush it down the toilet? That way we can fool the gods into thinking we ate it?

Andy:

Stop being a smart ass. Just put it back in the freezer.

So I did because we all know I do everything my Andy tells me to. That was SEVEN YEARS AGO!

And so ladies and gents, we are reliving that same argument. I say it's been long enough but Andy’s delicate sensibilities insist we keep it. He says I should take my heart out of the jar I keep it in and use it every once in a while.

Who has an argument over 8 year old cake? I told him maybe we should use this as material for the comic but he gave me the stink eye and walked away.

Did anybody else save their cake this long? More importantly, does anybody want some? And by some I mean ALL OF IT.

The Ugly Truth. What an appropriate title.

The hubs and I went to see The Ugly Truth. The only way I would recommend this movie is if I had the leading role and they were giving me a diamond iPhone. And maybe not even then.

I was very disappointed because I really wanted to like this movie. Instead I sat in my seat, fidgeting until it was my turn to hold the yummy nachos.

I don’t do movie critiques well, I leave that to the awesome Suzy, but I just want to point out what my pet peeves were.

Katherine Heigl comes off as shrill and overcaffeinated/over-actor instead of what they were going for which I'm assuming was a hopeless, likable, workaholic. Gerard Butler, whom I love but now I’m having second thoughts of adding to “My List”, makes weird facial expressions and I believe it’s because he’s trying to wrap his lips around American English. He winds up looking like Vincent Donofrio after his body was invaded by that weird roach-like alien in Men in Black.

Back to Heigl. I’m not a director nor do I want to pretend to know what it involves to be one BUT! I wish he would have told her that she didn’t need to keep smiling like a fool when she was doing a seductive dance with GB. She is a gorgeous woman but her open mouth profile reminded me of those clowns in fairs where you have to squirt the water in them to fill up a balloon or the Joker. Her chin disappears and she’s all teeth.

I know, scary!

All in all the acting was horrible. Don’t go see this movie. Save yourself the 8-10 bucks (16-20 if you have a nacho buddy) and go watch a toilet flushing instead. (sans nachos)

Out of context

“I think I just parked over a chicken bone”

“ Bee: I can smell through my mouth.

Andy: YOU should donate your body to science! ”

“Two-ply don’t bother me. Two-ply don’t bother me”

“The sun is blinding me so right now I'm just driving by memory of the road.”

“Nutter butter sounds like another name for Fromunda cheese”

“I wonder how big her hole is”

“I seriously doubt all the letters make an appearance in alphabet soup”

“My head isn’t a toy, Andy!”

“That lady looks like an orange”

“My need for crushing heads is equal to your need for correcting me.”

“Well then I guess I’ll have to type while dripping mango juice!”

“Bah! One potato won’t kill me! It would take at least 10 to take me down!”

“Yes. Yes. She is tall and skinny but wearing only a tank top and stripper shoes benefits nobody, right Andy? Andy? ANDY!!”

“When a wife beats up her husband because of *errant eyes* nobody wins. Except maybe the wife because she gets that nice afterglow.”

Okay, those last two were not so much out of context as they were telling a true tale of jealousy and mayhem.

be back tomorrow with a *real* post.

This weekend, I learned my family thinks I'm mentally incapable of doing things on my own and also, nuns can seem to sense the evil in me. Nuns and babies.

Last Friday I went to the same stylist who gave me the red highlights last year and had him do them again. This time I went alone since Crazy Ez had gone the day before. I didn’t remember exactly where the place was but the directions didn’t look too complicated so I embarked on my voyage with a falalala in my heart and mapquest on my lap.

The day before my adventure, my mom had said she would come with me, when I told her the process took 3-4 hours she gulped and hesitated. I told her she didn’t have to come with and then she said she didn’t feel right letting me go by myself.

Me:
Uh, mom? I am 36 years old. In the eyes of the law, I can venture out without an adult.  

Mom:
I know but I’d feel guilty not knowing if you were okay.

Me:
You and Nancy travel all over the place by yourselves! Why is it a big deal for me to go somewhere on my own?

Mom:
I don’t know, it just is.

Then Andy.

Andy:
Your mom isn’t going with you? You are going alone? BY YOURSELF?

Bee:
Cheese n crackers people! I was walking home from work alone, late at night, in the mean streets of Chicago before any of you even knew what danger was! Driving to a suburb in broad freakin daylight should not be a problem!

Apparently my family gets nervous when I'm left to my own devices. They had me feeling like the mentally ill family member who can't be trusted with scissors because I would probably find a trampoline and jump around until I stabbed my neck. That is insulting beyond description. Sure it took me about ten loop-dee-loops to find the place and I kept passing it up but at least I got there! It was kinda funny because I had my sister and Big Tex on the phone looking up my location and I decided to pull into a strip mall to wait for further instructions when I noticed the big sign for the Beauty Shop. I stumbled upon the joint all accidental-like.

My hair looks awesome by the way.

That same day, over dinner, my mom shared another missing puzzle piece.

When I was 15 and UNRULY (according to my mom but I think she just needed to have a beer every once in a while to mellow out), my mom and godmother decided it would be a good idea to send me off to a boarding school convent thing (to exorcise the demons within I assume). My godmother, being an ex-nun (who SUPPOSEDLY married a Fitzgerald as in John Fitzgerald Kennedy Fitzgeralds -whatever, I didn’t believe it either), pulled some strings to get me an interview in this very prestigious boarding school in Guadalajara Mexico.

I don’t remember much of the interview with THE NUNS (other than they being all frowny faced) but after it was done, they sent me out of the room and spoke to my mom and godmother alone. That place gave me the heebie jeebies! It was dark and creepy and all I could think of was finding a way to escape.

We left shortly after and I never returned. I assumed my mom had been appalled by the prison-like facility and changed her mind but the reality was different. It seems the nuns said “No thank you!” to yours truly and I didn’t find out until this weekend. I asked my mom why she hadn’t shared this information earlier and she said she hadn’t wanted to upset me. I then asked her if she was aware I had a blog and that this juicy information was like gold!

It seems the nuns feared my American-nes and thought I might disrupt the rest of their students and maybe bring unholy ideas into their sanctuary. Some may look at this as a rejection but I think this just solidifies my badass status.

My mom still enrolled me in a regular catholic school though not that it helped much but that is a story for another day.

So… my hallucinations.

Wednesday night I took the Mirapex for the first time. The instructions were to take one pill 45 minutes to an hour before bed. I took it at 10pm figuring that by the time I went to bed, the devil within would be tamed or at least high.

I started getting groggy at about 10:30 and could barely form a coherent thought much less say anything that didn’t come out all slurred. My head hit the pillow and BAM! I was in the arms of some random hot actor, I’m not really picky nowadays, within seconds.

Fast forward about 4 hours and I wake up to the smell of skunk. Not unusual in our area and since our windows are open, the smell is totally believable. Until Andy wakes up and I say “effin skunk!” and he’s all “what?”

Bee:
There must be a skunk outside cuz it reeks!

Andy:
Are you dreaming? It doesn’t smell like skunk!

Bee:

Yes it does.

Andy:

No, babe, it doesn't.

Bee:
Holy Moses!! Am I hallucinating?

I’m serious you guys! I had to get up and walk around until I no longer could smell the ""skunk"". I went back to bed but then I started freaking myself out by wondering if I was hallucinating so I couldn't go back to sleep right away. When I finally did fall asleep, I dreamt I was hallucinating having imaginary arguments with Milton and my brother Dan and in my dream I was telling myself they were not really in front of me! Scary shit right there. I can’t have anything else messing with my mind since I’m already halfway to batville without hallucinogens.

Before you go out and get your own personal stash of Mirapex, I have to warn you that the hangover is a bitch. I woke up with dry mouth and a headache. I also went all of Thursday typing with my eyes closed because I was so drowsy and only opening them to proofread at the end.

When I got home from work Thursday, I swear everything I said to Andy went like this:

"Mofracka dinnnnt e" translation= "Mocha didn't eat"

"Pfsuhgakjkss jknsh akhuhngtyskk lskhuhshgshsh" translation= "Ouch"

I only took it that once and I'm gonna take one again tonight so it'll be interesting to see what the side effects will be this time, if any. We're going to my brother's house for a BBQ on Saturday so my brain needs to be on its A-game. Siblings sense weakness and attack.

Happy Fourth

of July!!!

Ahhhh! El amor is forgiving, yes? Also Karma comes a-knockin'!

What is that thing people do when they may have gone over the top and mocked someone a lil bit too much because in reality the person they mocked on the previous post had a rusted piece of metal in their cornea that split into two pieces and they had to anesthetize the eye to remove it then scrape off the rust ring it left behind so I guess that person wasn't being a drama queen and was in fact in a lot of pain??

I'm not sure what the protocol is. Do I send muffins? Nah!

Instead, I gave my Andy the only thing I could find that resembled rubber tipped tweezers.

After he went to see Dr. Grim, Optometrists to the stars, he was told he had a piece of metal embedded in his cornea and it was leaving a rust ring. Dr. Grim told him it needed to be taken out by an Ophthalmologist (which I had suggested that morning but Captain Unreasonable had poo-poo’d the idea).

Once Andy called me, I hustled butt to get him in somewhere before 5 and pulled some strings (read begged and pleaded) with some cornea specialist in our area had to drop OZ's name but you know, perks.

The cornea dude had to scrape off the rust ring it left behind which ewwww! But! The good news is that now I may call Andy “Rusty” and he can’t get mad. Also, if he makes any more old jokes, he’s 4 years younger than I am, I can always say “at least I’m not the one who squeaks when they blink” “is that your rust or are you just happy to see me?” or “pardon me, I couldn’t hear you because of all the rust in your eye”. The possibilities are endless!

Hmmm it doesn’t seem like my apology is going as planned. Oh well! You can’t say I didn’t try. (No you can’t!)

Okay, as payback for my incorrigible behavior (catholic school tried), I went to a neurologist today because I’ve been having too many issues with the old bod’ and the diagnosis my regular doctor (and even the orhto to a certain extent) aren’t jiving. Nothing serious so don’t go buying a black dress but I wanted to know what’s up. I gave him my symptoms and he said maybe peripheral neuropathy (I would need an MRI and EMG -which just the thought of an EMG makes me poop my pants- to be sure) but he first wants to rule out restless leg syndrome (I said to the doctor "But my legs don't flap around violently like I'm trying to be the next Michael Flatley!" the doctor looked at me with his one bulbous eye and one squinty eye and replied "That's not what RLS is" then he studied me in silence for a minute and I closed my left eye because it was watering) so he gave me Mirapex.

The same Mirapex I first mocked here.

MIRAPEX can cause serious side effects, including:

• falling asleep during normal daily activities like driving.

• low blood pressure when you sit or stand up quickly. You may have dizziness, nausea, fainting, or sweating. Sit and stand up slowly after you have been sitting or lying down for a while.
• hallucinations. You may see, hear, feel, or taste something that isn’t there. You have a higher chance of having hallucinations if you are over 65 years old.
• excessive gambling or sexual urges

Karma, no?

Anyway, if you see me driving while sleeping, playing blackjack and talking to no one whom I’m referring to as Brad Ryan Reynolds Pitt, just let me have my moment m'kay?

Ahhh El Amor IS Blind!

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

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

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

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

CU:
This thing is burning BURNING!

Bee:
Do you know what’s in there?

CU:
NO! ROOOOOAR!

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

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

Bee:
Okaaaay.

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

CU:
ROOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRR!

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

CU:
I’M GOING TO TRY, BEE!

Bee:
::sigh::

CU:
I need tweezers!

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

CU:
Are they rubber tipped?

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

CU:
THEN THEY WON’T WORK! ROOOOOAAAR!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t worry babe, it’s big enough”

CU:
ROOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!!!!

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

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

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

CU:
What does an ophthalmologist do?

Bee:
They are eye doctors.

CU:
What’s he gonna do?

Bee:
Is that a ‘no’?

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

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

CU:
WHAT????

Bee:
I said HAVE A GOOD DAY!

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

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

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

War— I mean WORK stories.

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

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

Scarecrow, the spastic x-ray tech.

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

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

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

Milton

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

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

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

Milton:
Yeah, that one.

Bee:
No.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scarecrow

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

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

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

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

Bee:
Well, you can start in the chartroom!

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

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

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

Purple Dino-SOUR

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

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

PD:
Did you run claims for me last week?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bee

First up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, now we have NO secrets!

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

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

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

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

Bee [wipes face]:

What?

Andy:

Well, it looks like— No, never mind.

Bee:

Tell me! Do I have something on my face?

Andy:

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

Bee:

What??? Spit it out man!

Andy:

You have one tiny black hair above your lip.

Bee:

… … I am aware of said hair.

Andy:

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

Bee:

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

Andy:

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

Bee:

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

Andy:

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

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

Bee:

I think you’ve had too much to drink.

Andy:

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

Bee:

Then I think the sugar has rotted your brain.

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

I say we start a sensitivity camp for men.

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

So hello there! Did you miss me? I had a great time on my mini break, thanks for asking!

I know you’re probably dying to know what crazy high jinks we’ve got into but we had a pretty tame weekend so no juicy news for you!

Okay, I'll tell you about it anyway...

On Friday I continued with my landscaping and grub killing extravaganza. I am now the meanest, shortest, smelliest grub killer in the Midwest. Also, my sister took this picture of a bird taking a crap in my frog planter. To the bird I ask, "what the hell bird? the whole world is your toilet but you chose my freakin frog? asshat!"

Damn thing even turned away pretending to be embarrassed.

That reminds me of an old joke my uncle Curly used to tell me. He said that when he was out in rural farms delivering The Coca Cola and he needed to go, um, poopsie, he would go in a field, drop his pants and close his eyes. When I would ask why he closed his eyes he'd say "So anybody driving by wouldn't see me going poopsie" and when I would question that logic he would reply "if I can't see them, they can't see me!" Yeah, pretty much my whole family is weird.

On Saturday, at the BCD (butt crack of dawn), we went to the laundromat and I threw the mother of all tantrums because the machines were all being assholes! We then moved my momma and she is now officially on a separate floor which means all toys that belong to people under the age of 30 have been relocated and now my house doesn’t look like the McDonald’s play area.

On Sunday we took our one day vacation (because there is no budget this year for going anywhere exciting… sorry Wisconsin) and went to my in-laws’ campground where we all fell asleep in front of the TV and probably snored in unison.

On Monday I cleaned my house and rid it of all the construction dust that had accumulated because my logic was “what’s the point in cleaning today if it’ll look the same tomorrow” (you may recognize that logic if you have teens/preteens/husbands) from top to bottom then went to see Angels and Demons so that I may rest my old decrepit bones.

And now you’re jealous because my life is much more exciting than yours. What can I say? Not everybody can be this cool.

I enjoyed every last drop of this Holiday weekend and today was crashing about the office because I’d forgotten how to walk around walls. My only consolation is that we are already on Tuesday and it’ll be the weekend in no time. Hopefully.

I just heard it will rain until tomorrow night. I'm glad because we've obviously NOT had enough rain.

P.S.

To Brian and jean knee who thought something catastrophic had happened to me like pig flu or death, thanks guys! You always know how to brighten my day! Jerks.

P.P.S.

Does anybody watch Jon and Kate + 8? (For those of you who have lives and have no idea who they are, they are a young couple who over fertilized themselves and had 8 kids. They have been on TV for about 4 years or so.) I can’t explain why but I’ve become obsessed with the Jon and Kate Gosselin drama. Will they stay together? Will they get a divorce? They went from looking like they loved each other to hating each other in the blink of an eye. I really hope they pull it together because I’m running out of shows to watch.

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.

I boldly went where I've never gone before...

So, we went to see Star Trek on Sunday. Even though I’ve never ever seen a single episode of the original series or the previous movies (never! not even by accident where, say, I was strapped to a bed and the only channel with reception was running a Star Trek marathon and my eyes were held open by toothpicks and superglue, ever) I liked it!

Chris Pine is hawt even with his bushy brows or maybe I have a thing for bushy brows since my Andy has them too. I just thought about the bushy brow thing and I don’t want you to misunderstand me. There are certain wild bushy brows that I find acceptable and then there are those that are manicured bushy which ewww!

Anyway, Pine’s character is a funny smartass that, thank heavens, does not remind me of William Shatner’s acting. I guess some people thought William Shatner was a stud in his hey day but I’ve never seen the attraction.

Speaking of Andy's bushy brows, you would have thought being late for this movie would spell disaster for Earth and its inhabitants because he went on a rant where he almost forbade me to use the bathroom before we left. I had to put my foot down (on his face) and tell him that I was not going to hold it for hours just because he didn’t want to miss a single second of outer space. I think his fear was that there would be gobs of people standing in line. At 10:45 AM. On a Sunday. I had to reassure him that few people have less of a life than we do but then I remembered we were talking about Trekkies so I stand corrected. Kidding! Maybe.

I’m sure there were many inside jokes I missed but I didn’t feel like you needed to be wearing pointy ears to be able to follow the movie. Oh yeah and I especially liked the retro outfits the chicks um women wore.

We went to the movies after taking my mom to breakfast to celebrate the fact that I was the first one to make her a mother. She and I joke about it every year because I always expect her to give me a present and she always says “I gave you life” and I always respond that that trick is played out and now I want a pony/koala bear/Brad Pitt.

I further celebrated mami’s day by cooking dinner. For some reason she loves my veggie lasagna and as an added bonus, Maria, THE VEGETARIAN, was also able to dine on my fine cuisine on her first mother’s day ever because I didn’t use as much ground seal as the recipe calls for.

I also prepared a nice salad and some homemade garlic bread.

Nothing but the best for my momma!

I know I know, I’m a horrible daughter considering she is always cooking our favorite dishes and she does it from scratch.

I think she was a little disappointed that I didn’t invite the clan over to celebrate but frankly the husband and I have a budget we live on and our life got a little more complicated once my brother Rick, Maria and the baby moved in. Andy and I joke about the fact that we don’t have children and yet our food bill suggests otherwise. So, due to the new responsibilities and in order to avoid going to the poor house, our home is now officially closed for any future hosting events until further notice (Thanksgiving being the exception).

I’m hoping to make it up to her on her birthday by organizing dinner at a nice restaurant I hope it’s understood that everybody will pay for their own food because I don’t think Andy will be too thrilled with staying behind to help the busboys clean up. ;o)

P.S.

Mini rant regarding Costco. Andy and I bought some lemon blueberry and blueberry muffins. And we, AS A COUPLE, have this to ask:

WHAT THE FUCK??

Did we misunderstand the label? Did you mean "with a hint of blueberry"? Because we could not find a blueberry to save our lives! Well, Andy found one but then it fell and he cried out "No! Where the fuck are my blueberries??" Maybe we should have paid for them with a hint of money? Bastards.

P.P.S. to jean knee:

Don’t think I didn’t catch your question regarding my dogs and what they got me for mother’s day. I know you did it because of last year’s post. I forgive you because you are my friend but next year? I will make you wear my new shoes as punishment.