Tazz is a jerky pants who smells like bean burritos. Yeah, I went there!

I was going to do a post today but... to piss Tazz off (because he snatched a tortilla from my fingers and I almost wound up with the nickname of 9 Fingers Charlie) I pretended to be thunder, he hates thunder, but it backfired because when I went like this:

KKWRRRWVVVVOOOOOM!!!!!

I strained my vocal chords (hopefully that's the right *chord* DAVID!) and now my throat is ouchy.

Tazz was unimpressed. He didn't even pretend to hide. Bastard.

Anyway, since I can't talk, I can't do a post. You know, because I talk while I type?

Also, Tuesday night, while eating Rice Krispies (I know YUM!), I swallowed a moth. Insects in my house better beware!

Okay, I wasn't too upset about the moth thing until I googled images of moths and now? Now I want to take the blue pill.

And finally, Andy cut his hair(s) and no longer looks like the drunk derelict I found sitting outside of Boomhauers garage. I'm happy because I won't go to hug stinky drunken strangers and he's happy because I no longer step on his hair while I'm walking by his chair.

So anyway, that's why there's no post today.

Holy crap! Who knew being ill would not stop me from rambling on and on and on and on? ♫♪Hey Mr. Dj—♫♪

Okay my brain still has the acumen of applesauce (and the same consistency) in that neither could form a thought to save itself from being eaten by toddlers... I really don’t know what that means.

I want to thank you guys for being so nice to me and wishing me health. If I sound shocked it’s because I am. In fact, I was so shocked I was thinking about you while I was in the bathroom debating whether I should leave the door unlocked in case I keeled over so that Andy wouldn’t have to break the door down. Don’t ask me why that thought popped into my head but it did and I’m all about sharing.

Anyway, on Friday OZ let us leave at 1pm. That was awesome for many reasons but the main one was that I would be able to take niece Natalia to the movies to see Hannah Montana (totally against my will, you understand) earlier than planned. I had called my mom and told her of the possibility of me getting home early so I asked her to make sure Natalia was ready to leave. When I got home she was still in her froggy pajamas (my niece, not my mom)! So I had to wait and wait while she diva’d herself up.

I’m sure all of you have intelligent children and/or nieces/nephews etc but I have to say that my niece is way smarter than all those kids you know. Sorry but it’s true. As she was strapping herself into her booster seat, she was questioning my logic in getting to the movies so early because hello? we would have to wait longer and then she might have to go to the potty and “you hate public restrooms, Tia Bee”. I told her there would probably be a long line of teeny little girls just like her waiting to see the movie and we must MUST get a good a seat! Then she distracted me by asking “I don’t suppose you’d want to buy me a blue icee, right?” Her wish is my command.

Now, call me naïve if you want but I thought since it was early in the day, the throng of obsessed little girls would wait until the later shows… DEHN! I was so wrong. I did get approval from my 6 year old niece though when she said “hmmm you were right in us getting here early. Look at all these little girls!” I bought our tickets and then felt a little jealous when they gave her some Hannah Montana cards but I got nuthin’! How about something for the adults, Disney? Maybe a Shirtless Stud cards? I'm just sayin'.

While we were waiting in the roped out area (and she was slurping away on her blue icee, sticking her tongue out at me and being all wiggly), there were moms leaving their daughters standing in line while they went to get snacks. All the little girls had a friend with them and I felt bad because my niece was just stuck with me. I guess I could have asked her to bring a friend but I’m not very good with other people’s children. I’d probably forget about them and they’d be sitting in my car while I was enjoying my nachos.

One little girl cracked me up. Her mom and some other lady were making stupid jokes. Saying stuff like “I hope I don’t lose control and start singing!” and “Ooh! We should have brought our Hannah scarves!” when they went to go get snacks the little girls says to her friend “my mom is such a dork! I don’t know why she thinks she’s being cool since Hannah is for young people and she’s so old!” friend asks “How old is she?” daughter answers “I don’t know like 50 or 30? She has a blog though so she thinks she’s cool”

The hell you say little girl!

INTERMISSION!

If you’re bored, go on down to the Announcement portion of this post. I won’t get mad.

And we're back!

Once we settled into our seats (let me remind you of my perfectly thought out seating plan of being directly in the middle of the row in case people have to use the bathroom or need another soda, they either go to the left of me or to the right but never have to walk in front of me because that wouldn’t make any sense) I found out my niece has no nacho-eating-etiquette for you see, little miss thing does not like cheese on her nachos.

While I argued that nachos were all about THE CHEESE she diplomatically said “I’m not telling you HOW to eat your nachos. I’m just asking you to keep the cheese in the cup and not spread it all over the chips. How do you know you don’t like dipping the chips in the cheese unless you try it first?” ahhh sooooo, the student becomes a big pain in the butt.

I refuse to admit to liking this way better!

After waiting half an hour for the show to start and the theater slowly getting to a deafening pitch, I looked around and then I broke out in a cold sweat. The amount of kids in there were enough to make me have a panic attack but wors was suddenly realizing that if Natalia had to go to the bathroom, there would be no one to save our seats and then we would be the ones stepping on people as we walked along our row. I almost asked her if she needed to make a quick pit stop before the movie started but then I was afraid that power of suggestion would be my worst enemy so I kept my mouth shut.

The movie was good but the best part was watching her sit at the edge of her seat and then take control of the arm rest while a chick in her 20s lost. THAT is my little girl! I didn’t get to see the last little blurb of the movie while the credits were rolling because she had to go to the potty. While we fought our way out of the theater and made our way to the bathrooms, where I beat an older lady to a stall so Natalia could go in, I was glad it was just she and I for I proved I could survive preteen Hannahmania and not have a mental breakdown in the middle of it.

Natalia survived too, even though she didn’t want to share her Hannah Montana cards.

Announcements!

There will be no "Brian reviews…" on Thursday because it is Andy’s anniversary of the day he got lucky enough to make me his wife so I will post his interview then.

○○○○○○○○○○○○

Apparently BlogHer is meeting in Chicago in July and I must have been living under a rock because I didn’t know. I am now getting bombarded (not really) with people wanting to meet me in THE FACE TO FACE which I am still debating because I’m all about mystery. I might be persuaded to make an appearance if say, they buy me some Mojitos, Piña Coladas and a maid. My brother Rick just said he'd go and pretend to be me. I told him it would kind of work only people might notice because he has a penis. Besides, I have way more facial hair.

○○○○○○○○○○○○

Also, Easter was postponed due to my illness so I will be having it on Sunday but nobody is invited. Jesus would want it that way.

From the same people that loved reading Interview with a Vampire, Bee’s Musings presents: Interview with a Vegetarian.

From the moment I met her I was intrigued. A person that doesn’t enjoy sinking their teeth into a bloody filet mignon?? I knew of their existence but I had never before come face to face with one. Or maybe I had but they blend in with us regular carnivores so well that I had not seen the signs.

I approached her with caution. Would she think my fingers were baby carrots and start munching away?

For the sake of humanity (and some good vegetarian casserole recipes), I decided to have a sit down interview with this strange being. I will ask her my serious questions and report her answers and reactions EXACTLY as she gives them.

I served donuts and coffee. Don’t worry, I did read the label to make sure there was no meat products in the ingredients list.

Bee: Hi Maria, you may know me as Rick’s sister and aunt to your baby. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?

Maria: It’s fine, I don’t mind.

Bee: How did you become a vegetarian? Were you infected by a virus, attacked by a bunch of celery or were you created in a lab?

Maria: [giggle] Created in a lab [laughs]

Bee: So you don’t eat anything that might have had a face on it at one time, right? Is it because you fear their souls coming back and nibbling at your toes?

Maria: [laughs giggle] Yes I am very fearful.

Bee: What about those veggies that are shaped like human genitalia would you eat those?

Maria: [shocked] What?? I haven't seen them. I’d be interested in seeing them.

Bee: But, would you eat them?

Maria: As long as they taste like regular veggies.

Bee: Okay, let’s say you are walking by the side of the road and found a dead cow, would you not even eat it then?? I don’t mean to judge but it would be so wasteful for you not to.

Maria: [laughs] I don’t think so! I’d give it a proper burial though. Did you make up these questions??

Bee: Yes I did but let’s not make this about me m’mkay?? Were you traumatized when they discovered beef flavoring in McDonald’s French fries? Like would you have preferred they be seasoned with asparagus instead?

Maria: I HAD NO IDEA! I guess that means no more fries for me! [looks sad... and a little hungry so I hide my fingers].

Interviewers note—they stopped doing that because the argument was raised stating that if no beef is used in their burgers, they shouldn’t use it in their fries either.

Bee: So when you’re walking down the grocery aisle and you see an eggplant, is the desire to eat it so irresistible that you lose control and devour it while the broccoli screams?

Maria: No, I have more of a desire for lettuce. I’m not a big fan of eggplant.

Bee: Shhh!! The vegetarian militia might hear you! [I get up to make sure there were no radishes storming my castle] Are there many people like you?

Maria: [gives me an odd look. almost as if she thinks my sanity is not all there] I know of at least 2 people who are more extreme than me.

Interviewers note— she didn’t say it but these 2 extremists might be responsible for the Great Tomato Massacre of 1812.

Bee: In closing, what can we do to prevent vegetarianism from spreading?

Maria: Nothing. I suggest you do nothing.

Bee: What do you mean, nothing?? Isn't it contagious??

Maria: No! It’s not like it’s airborne.

Interviewers note— I wish I would have known that before buying this Hazmat suit! Now I’m all sweaty.

Maria, thank you for being such a great sport! Can you do me a favor and tell others of your kind that we come in peace and are only looking for a great cut of meat? And I personally am a strong supporter of grilled onions... on a GREAT BIG BACON CHEESEBURGER! Dammit! Now I'm hungry!

P.S.

I apologize for any babbling I might have done on yesterday's double post but my filter was slightly off.

Ah, you thought cakes were only dangerous because they make your butt bigger...

Have you missed the fact that I haven't posted about Milton? Would you like a little Milton today?

As I've said before, sometimes I wonder if we are secretly being filmed by some far off extraterrestrials that get their giggles from us, the lesser beings (well, you guys maybe lesser but me? I'm a woman and a half which makes for difficulty in buying clothes). To those extraterrestrials I say "SCREW YOU!" and I say it in a shrill, obnoxious voice right into their mics so I may annoy the shit out of them!

Yesterday, day of the lord Thursday, also known as Treat Day or Social Thursday here at the Asylum, I made the innocent mistake of saying the following to Milton: "Yum!! Glynda brought RedVelvet cake!"

I know! How stupid can I be?? Why would that be the first thing I say in the morning? What happened to just plain ole' "good morning" and then a mouthful of shutty??

You see this prompted Milton to debate my saneness.

Milton: "Who brought RedVelvet cake? I thought you said Glynda."

I did say Glynda because she brought the cake.

Milton: "Did you mean Scarecrow? Because it's her week to bring in treats and Glynda isn't on the rotation to bring treats so I think you meant Scarecrow."

No, I meant Glynda—

Milton: "Why would Glynda bring in treats? That just doesn't make sense! Are you sure it wasn't Scarecrow?" [and she stood up as if to emphasis what I dumbass I am for getting two completely different people mixed up]

Glynda brought the cake because—

Milton: "Scarecrow. You mean Scarecrow." [and she gave me that look that shows she is trying her hardest not to lose her patience]

Hey, how about you let me complete sentence? GLYNDA BROUGHT A CAKE FOR HER BIRTHDAY!

Milton: "Glynda's birthday? [she blinked about 20 times] Scarecrow brought a cake for GLYNDAY'S birthday?"

No. Glynda bought herself, Glynda, a birthday cake because tomorrow is her, Glynda's, birthday. No to Scarecrow. NO TO SCARECROW. NO TO SCARECROW!!!

Milton: "Is Scarecrow still bringing cheese and crackers??"

At the end of the fuckin day I was calling Scarecrow Glynda and vice-versa. Maybe I was wrong and don't really know everything? Maybe I'm really Milton?

Somebody?

Anybody?

Is it too early for a "behind the scenes" or "the making of…" ??

I wanted to share with you guys what Andy has to put up with when we're thinking about what we'll post on Sunday Comics "Bee n' Andy: Married and sometimes, still in love...".

Usually, he asks "What do you want me to draw?" I respond with something vague like "well you remember that one thing that happened that one day when you pissed me off??" Andy looks at me in confusion "Member? That we laughed about?" still no comprehension on his face "::sigh:: when the beans made fire and I yelled for help and you went to open the backdoor?" then he understands and his next question is "Okay, what do you want on each panel?" then I'll stand up and do charades while I'm talking.

"Okay, in the first one you should show me at the stove [I mimic me at the stove sautéing something] but in the background I'll make a bubble showing I hear you and Tazz arguing [I cup my hand to my ear while I'm still mimicking sautéing] then the second panel shows me saving you from Tazz [I mimic pulling at something which I guess could be Tazz] then the third panel shows the fire and you see me going like this [me making 'Oh Shit' face] and we see you walking into the kitchen and then the last panel shows you leaving with the dogs but I don't know how to imply you are running away to safety. You know?" then I did an interpretive dance to People are Strange from the awesome Doors, sat down and I was all sweaty and my beloved husband asks "can you sketch it out for me?" and then of course I think to myself "if I could sketch it out, I'd be doing the whole thing buddy!" but I do sketch it and this is what I come up with:

So he looks at me and laughs but doesn't say anything else until he is going to actually draw it.

Andy:

"Bee, what is this squiggly line right here?"

Bee:

"That's you babe"

Andy:

"Can you show me what about this squiggle would indicate it's me?"

Gah! I have to do everything around here!

Anyway, as I told Tracy, I didn't want him to draw me as a fantasy Bee, you know, all tall and voluptuous.

censored for your protection.

I wanted him to keep it more real. Besides, if he would have drawn me like that, I'd constantly be asking him if he was fantasizing about Cartoon Bee and I'd be jealous of myself and wanting to kick my own ass. I don't need that type of stress.

I hear where Tracy is coming from though because who wants to see a frumpy housewife in a blog? You'd much rather see a sex kitten all naked with hair all scattered about her.

And if that is how you picture me, I am not one to argue since that's how I feel in my head. But I haven't looked like that in oh I don't know 5 years? If you are now thinking about the fact that that's within the timeframe of mine and Andy's marriage and are now making a connection on who is responsible for the downfall of my figure, you would be correct! The nachos have nothing to do with it! It's all Andy!

I know the hair will change in the cartoon and once I get my new contacts, I'll probably not be wearing my glasses much so that will be different too. The cartoon us will have changes in clothing since he usually draws us with whatever we're wearing at the moment. What I'm trying to say is we will probably evolve more as we continue with the Sunday Comics. Andy has refused the idea of a boobchin so stop asking (you men know who you are!)! I will however try to talk him into a sombrero but I really don't look good in hats. And now you have more information than you ever needed.

In other news, I am now on THE FACEBOOK. Well, I had an account from a long time ago but I didn't do anything with it because it seemed complicated... until today. Brother Sergio talked me into logging on and looking at his pictures.

So, if any of you who are on THE FACEBOOK too and want to be my friend, go here-> Bees Musings and do the voodoo that you do so well but don't ask me for how tos because I have no clue... yet. Facebook better watch its cookies once I know my way around it!

Anyway for my blog, here is the linkadink... I think? Bee's Musings @ Facebook.

This concludes another uninteresting insight into my psyche.

Humor-Blogs

A 3 year old who knows more swears than I do and the news of a comic strip. No, not a funny person stripping.

hmmmmmmmmm

uhmmmmmmm

::sigh::

There is a little dude running around the waiting room right now yelling "sheethole fockface" over and over. I had a near collision with him when I was on my way to the ladies so I'm guesstimating his age at 3 because he's short.

So, my questions are:

1) Why are the parents not muzzling him and/or tying him down somewhere?

2) Where did he learn such bad pronunciation of those precious swears?

3) Why not teach him more so he doesn't bore us with the same shit over and over?

The parents look to be about 18-20 so I'm thinking they know how to let loose with the f-bombs, is it too much to ask for them to be good parents and ask the kid to shut up if he can't say the words right?

Oh, the precious little lad just ran in here and said, you guessed it, "sheethole fockface" I didn't kick his ass because he was talking to the copy machine and the copy machine can be a sheethole fockface.

[above was written at about 2:30pm while I was at work, obviously it is not going on right at this second]

╗╝╗╝♥╗╝╗╝♥╗╝╗╝♥╗╝╗╝♥╗╝╗╝♥╗╝╗╝♥╗╝╗╝♥╗╝╗╝♥╗╝╗╝♥

The other day, don't ask me what day because they have all been the same to me once the temperature dropped below 40 degrees, I was watching the front desk for CL while she went to lunch. There were no patients since the docs were off so I was bored out of my ever loving mind.

When I'm bored, I write/scribble/doodle. I had nothing interesting to write about and I was done with scribbling weird things like, why is Keanu Reeves in so many movies if he has no expression on his face- EVER? and OMG I found Keanu's dad!

You know, things that didn't really lead to any posts so I started doodling.

When I was a teenage Bee, I loved to draw. I would draw Garfield, Snoopy, Face aka Templeton Peck aka Dirk Benedict from the A-Team, book covers that caught my eye, stuff like that.

One time, I was about 16, I showed my dad a drawing of Face and he said "Hmmm well, keep trying it doesn't look like total crap but I'm sure you can make it look better" or something along those lines. I put down my pencil and shelved yet another broken dream. Ha ha! Just kidding, it wasn't that serious. I just stopped drawing and thought about how my life might have turned out if my mom had gone out with and married her other serious suitor, the ice cream vendor.

Anyway, one of the things I loved to draw were those naked "love is…" people but I'd draw them with clothes on and nicer bodies. That was my skill, to make the world decent and better looking.

When I doodle, I go back to those naked people and draw something similar. That day I drew a little cartoon and tried to make it look kind of like me but I have better hair.

I didn't like my first try since it looked like I had a Quagmire chin instead of boobs.

My second try was this.

I had no neck. You know what? I guess my pops was right!

Anyway, once I re-sketched it and got it how I wanted, I was going to scan it so I could put it up on my sidebar with a little caption. Maybe the weird thoughts that run through my mind when I don't have the filter on?

But then I started thinking.

While the smoke was coming out of my ears for overexerting my 6 brain cells, I started to get the idea that Andy and I should start a comic strip here at the Blogus. We'd take a regular, every day blow out fight difference of opinion and put it to a comic strip.

I'm including Andy in my little project for 2 reasons, he draws way way way better than I do and he is the cause of all many of my headaches even though he denies it.

I thought it would be fun to post it every Sunday and we'd call it "Bee n' Andy: Married and sometimes, still in love…" because it's true. We are always married and sometimes still in love. Other times we wrestle like a couple of alligators fighting over a tourist leg.

When I brought the idea to Andy, he laughed and then saw I was serious -seriously going to kick his ass for laughing- so he asked "What if we run out of stuff to comic-strip about?" my turn to laugh because he and I will never ever run out of inane things to argue about. Never.

That might sound a little sad and if I were you, I'd think we needed marriage counseling but when you are on this side of the fence, you know it's totally normal and even healthy-ish.

So yeah, stay tuned for the Sunday comics here at Bee's Musings.

P.S.

Stop staring at my boob-chin!

Humor-Blogs

What? An intruder in my house on Christmas Eve? Don’t make me go all holiday ninja on your sorry ass!

So…

As some of you may know, my momma is in Mexico at the moment and will not be returning until I’m 107.

This means that I’m all alone in my big house once Andy leaves for work.

This means that I’m washing my hair with my eyes open when I’m in the shower because I ain’t no Janet Leigh (in more ways than one, she was hawt!) and refuse to let some psycho with a knife make button holes on my body. Just seems like something I would want to avoid at all costs, you know?

Anyway. I usually leave the attack dogs on the loose so they may alert me of any intruders. This works as follows, Mocha barks her head off letting Tazz know that he has a tasty morsel on his turf. Tazz then goes and digs out his bib so he may dig in and savor any ruffians that happen to make the wrong decision by coming into his home. Burglar butt is his absolute favorite!

Christmas Eve, however, Andy had put Tazz in his kennel before he left and I was making banana pudding (not slang for anything, I was ACTUALLY making banana pudding) and then hurrying up to take a shower, I was too busy to let him back out of his kennel. Sooooo my only line of defense was that nutty airhead who would rather be petted than attack anybody.

I’m in the shower, singing my FALALALALAs with the radio blasting, when I hear Mocha go nuts. Odd, but she will also bark at dust bunnies, not that I have any ::wink::, so I’m not too worried until I hear Tazz’s malevolent growling and him throwing himself against his kennel making it rattle furiously.

I turn off the radio and listen intently.

I HEAR FOOTSTEPS!

CURSES!

The one day I kennel Tazz the Carnivorous is the one day intruders decide to steal my cool stuff!

Now I have to hurry up and rinse off so I may get dressed before I go investigate. I really don’t want to die naked, just don’t want that on my tombstone “here lies Bee, died in the shower with her white butt face up”.

Once I dried myself, I decided to put on lotion. The cold is making my skin too dry. Okay, clothes on… I should really brush my hair too. If I survive, I don’t want it to get all weird and frizzy.

Uh… since I’m brushing my hair, I might as well put makeup on. You know, in case I have to talk my way out of being reunited with Elvis, I want to look my best.

Then I notice Tazz isn’t growling anymore. He’s more like muttering. Mocha isn’t barking either but that could be because they distracted her with a cookie. Bitch!

I call out to Mocha BEFORE unlocking the door and NOTHING.

Okay, I have to make my way out there but I should call my sister and have her on the line in case she needs to call nine-one-one. This isn’t the first time she will be my lifeline in case of death. I once went to open The Chicken place and found the back door wide open. I called my sister and told her to listen while I walked around the joint with a machete looking for intruders. True story.

I grab my phone, yes I take it into the bathroom with me TRACY, notice I have a text message, decide to read it (kicking thievery ass can wait 2 minutes) and almost pass out with relief because it reads “I got the box ;) Nancy.”

I know that message means nothing to you guys but to me it means my sister drove to my house at the buttcrackofdawn to pick up a package her MIL had sent from the great big Texas. The package I promised my sister I’d take to work so she may only drive 3 blocks to pick it up. SHE was the noisy intruder.

She obviously didn’t trust me so she decided to make me die of fright instead!

I won’t lie to you, I am a little pissed but ultimately happy that it was her instead of a burglar. Especially because the only things I could have used to defend myself would have been my hairbrush and bleach spray. Bleach spray is way too expensive.

Nancy, your key privileges are REVOKED!!

Oh yeah and Merry Christmas to all!!! I’ll catch you guys next week.

P.S.

If there are any lowlife thieves reading this, I also have nunchucks and a machete so don’t try to come rob this chick.

I just don’t keep them in the bathroom.

Humor-Blogs

Sit, stay- DON'T WIGGLE!

I was thinking the other day, I know SHOCKING, trying to remember details of my potting training. Was it easy? Did I catch on quick? Did they give me a cookie when I made pee-pee in the potty?

I'm sure I was a fast learner and did brilliantly! After all, I'm an expert potty goer now. It's true, ask anyone.

The reason I was wondering is because Scarecrow fell off the pot the other day. She's got a good 20 years on me so it stands to reason that she would know what she's doing by now.

Granted, the toilet lid was wobbly because it only had one screw left (that's what he said!) but it's been like that for at least 3 years.

When she walked back into the office and exclaimed "I fell off the toilet!" and after I was able to breathe and control my laughter, I did ask her what the hell she had been doing to fall off the damn thing, wiggling? I mean, it's not a bucking bronco or one of those electric bulls you see in jean knee's bars so the dismount shouldn't be too difficult.

You already have your feet on the floor, hopefully, imagining gravity is around your butt area at the moment, you should only have to shift your center of gravity forward slightly to stand up. She's a skinny little thing so it's not as if she had to shift hundreds of pounds from one side to the other.

I'm no scientist and I'm sure the mathematician reading this might explain gravity better than I, but I've used those facilities with no unfortunate incidents (other than the usual encounters with the pig ladies who do not clean up after themselves)(hope you weren't eating). Then again, I'm very aware of my center of gravity and try to work with it?… or against it?... with I think… whatever! I do the one that doesn't have me falling off the gotdang pot!

She was a tad upset with me because I couldn't stop laughing but what is a girl to do? A girl with normal feelings and a desire to mock those around her. I think she was just being selfish in trying to curtail my fun.

I know I should be nice to her since she recently had open heart surgery but that was like 2 months ago. I'm sure she's fine now! Besides, it builds character and ultimately helps you heal. She should be thanking me, really.

I know you're jealous that I have all these awesome little happenings in my place of work but sometimes the powers that BE take pity on your poor, stepped upon soul and give you a few good pieces of material that have you salivating and wondering why you can't post live via live web cam.

It's something I've thought about but after hearing my voice when brother Dan and I did a duet to Sweet Child o' Mine, let's just say that tape was stepped on, burned and then fed to piranhas with a fixation for toxic chemicals.

My voice, while awesome to hear live, does not translate well into the airwaves. And Dan's is even worse. He sounds like a bagpipe on speed. He'll deny it though.

P.S.

Yes, I know gravity is everywhere. I did the whole water in a bucket and then swinging it around experiment too, centrifugal force I think it was, if you come here to learn things... SHAME ON YOU!

Humor-Blogs

Bee, a bucket, water and some frozen nippies.

Okay you guys. You have to admit that the tiny black cloud that follows my household around is beginning to get a little irritating. I mean, don't the powers that be get tired of poking at us with their plungers? Sooner or later they'll have to move on and pick on somebody taller, faster, smarter…

I have mentioned we were having issues with our water heater. For the past few months, only one person could comfortably shower within an 8 hour period. The next person would be left with luke warm to icy cold water.

AND GOD HELP YOU IF YOU DID DISHES BEFORE ANDY TOOK A SHOWER!

We at least had some hot water. It worked out fine because I'd shower in the morning and Andy in the evening.

But then…

Thursday Morning approximately 6:30 AM

Andy:
Bee! We have a problem!!

Bee [startled out of a deep sleep where she was "dancing" with Brad Pitt]
huhn? Wha?

Andy:
The water heater isn't working!

Bee:
::sigh:: We knew that already

Andy:
No! It's not working at all now! There is NO hot water!
You'll have to get up and make my bagel so I can check it out.

Bee:
Make your bagel? It can't be THAT serious. [if my eyes had been open, I'm sure I would have rolled them]

Andy:
I don't have time for games, Bee. I'm already 20 minutes late.

Being the good wife that I am, I got up and spread cream cheese on his bagel. Done!

As Andy was running around doing Andy things [::rolls eyes::], I calmly grabbed my big pasta pot, filled it up with water, put it on the stove, gave Andy some matches so he could run back downstairs and continue his Andy things (even though my argument was to leave well enough alone since we would both be leaving for work and nobody would be home to save the dogs if the house went KABLOOM), I grabbed a 5 gallon Home Depot bucket, filled it up with water, finally talked Andy into shutting the water heater down completely and then had to explain to him what a Mexico Style Shower was.

Step One.
Put a full pot of water on the stove and wait for it to boil.

Step Two.
Grab a big 5 gallon bucket* (doesn't have to be from Home Depot but the orangeness of it makes everything more cheesy) and fill it with water.

Step Three.
Put 5 gallon bucket in bath tub.

Step Four.
Pour boiling hot water from pot into 5 gallon bucket.

Step Five.
Grab a little container to use as a pouring device. Preferably plastic.

Step Six.
Strip nahked and get into tub.

{picture of nahked woman}

Step Seven.
Pour water over yourself using the preferably plastic container.

Step Eight.
Lather, rinse repeat as needed.

I don't think I need to tell you what happens afterwards, right? The drying part should be something you already know.

I'm not going to lie to you, the water is warm but you will freeze precious parts of your body as the cold air hits you.

This is how we used to do it when I was younger and visiting my grandparents in Mexico. They only had one spigot where you could get water from so the bathrooms didn't have running water.

When I told Andy, he looked at me like I had grown 4 arms an extra leg and a turtle.

This is what happens when you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You go to pieces when you have to rough it a little bit and freeze your nippies.

The differences in cultures sometimes amuse me to no end. When I told the ladies at work they were shocked and horrified. When I called SIL Crazy Ez and told her we had no hot water, she right away asked "How are you showering? Mexico Style?"

That's what I'm talkin' about!

My only worry was that I would be smelling and maybe tasting like Fettuccine Alfredo since that was the last thing I cooked in my pasta pot but then I thought "well who the hell DOESN'T want to smell like creamy garlic sauce?" I'm getting hungry just smelling myself.

*If you are a little on the larger side, you can use 2 buckets for extra freshness.

P.S.

Who the hell told the muppets they knew how to sing? Enough with the muppet specials already!

Humor-Blogs

Hop on my Way Back Machine and travel 20 years through time to watch me break the traditional Christmas piñata!

Ettarose from Sanity on Edge is hosting a Christmas Carnival for Humor Bloggers dot com where we are to post about "the worst/funniest Christmas gift I ever recieved". Here is my tale.

You know how when you're a teenager you only want cool things like music, money and maybe LA GEARs for Christmas?

Let's pretend I'm the ghost of Christmas past so I may take you back to a time when I was skinny.

A time when I was able to walk out of the house without make up and not scare wild animals.

A time when I could have my fill of pizza, soda and nachos without having severe, life threatening, middle of the night, heartburn.

It was the year of the Lord 1987. I was a young, cool and downright groovie 15 year old who decided to organize a class Christmas party.

We all chipped in and bought punch, chips and a piñata. We all know there were piñatas when Jesus was born.

We brought a *boombox*, some tapes, a stick (for the piñata) and we were ready to start the getting down and boogie-ing. Yep, as you can see, I'm still one cool chick-a-dee.

We also had a tiny grab bag exchange. I can't remember what the limit was but I'm sure it couldn't have been more than $5 since we were kids and about as broke as we are now.

I gave my person a cute little doll that was exquisite in its $4.99 value. What I got in return from a boy in my class was a little bit of a shocker. No, I did not get lingerie! Pervs.

I received the biggest, gaudiest, gold plated crucifix in the history of Popedom. It was about 5 feet tall and was on a chain so I may wear it around my neck.

REMEMBER, I WAS 15.

I still didn't have full control of my reactions. Instead of politely nodding my head and saying "thank you", a little snort escaped my lips before I could stop it. The poor kid stared at me and you could see his little heart beginning to break kinda like how Lisa broke Ralph's heart.

I quickly saved my mean faux pas by saying I had gotten one for my mom just like it so I was just amused by the coincidence.

But seriously?

I didn't want my neck to turn green from the gold plated chemical stuff rubbing itself on me like that weirdo at Kmart. I lived in California where walking from your door to the street left puddles of sweat in your wake.

That last thing I wanted hanging around my neck at the age of 15, was a leash preventing me from the sins I was still trying to commit.

I would have been happy with a pack of saladitos and some pop rocks. I really didn't want to be the female version of Mr. T.

I have no idea what became of the kid or the gigantic cross he gave me. I remember hitting the dance floor and not stopping with the shakin of my thang to Lucky Star until we were shut down because of the noise.

Maybe somebody thought it was real gold because of its shininess and stole it? Maybe the Illuminati has it in its caves of jewels, money and other volumes of the bible? Maybe I dreamed the whole thing and I actually got a pen?

Now that it is 20 years later and some of the wacky tabacky has done damage to my brain cells, we may never know.

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This is a completely made up story. It is not real AT ALL!!

Okay, lets say there's this chick and she works at a doctor's office. Her main duty is to recoup money from slackjaw insurance companies (and other companies who are keeping money from her grubby hands) but every once in a while, she will also help out with translating for patients who do not speak THE ENGLISH. Remember, this is a fictional character so therefore the situation I'm about to relate is also fictional. DO WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER? Okay.

So there she is, sitting at her desk looking gorgeous like always (this part would be fact if the character were real), when the nurse comes and says she's needed for translating. She gets up, adjusts her clothes to make sure there is no excessive cleavage on display (also fact), checks a mirror to make sure she doesn't have a coffee mustache and she's ready to go into the exam room.

Dr.:
Hello Bia-uh Fictional Gorgeous Chick, this is Pretend Patient. He seems to have hurt his back and shoulder but we're having difficulties understanding how.

Bia-uh Fictional Gorgeous Chick:
Spanish Speak for How did it happen?

Pretend Patient:
Spanish Speak for I'm embarrassed to say…

Bia-uh Fictional Gorgeous Chick:
SS for Well, the doc needs to know so he can add that to your office notes and it will help him determine which muscles you might have hurt.

Pretend Patient:
SS for I was ::whispers:: in the bathroom ::/whispers:: and I had to ::whispers:: wipe ::/whispers:: so I turned like this [shows me upper body half turn with left arm twisted in an awkward angle and DOES A WIPING MOTION] and I felt a sharp tug on my back and a pop on my shoulder.

Oh My GOD! NOW I HAVE TO TRANSLATE THIS!! I mean uh, SHE, the fictional character that is.

Bia-uh Fictional Gorgeous Chick translates VERBATIM in English Speak.

Doctor, who is a 14 year old in a fifty-something year old body (who am I kidding, I barely held it together but I did because I AM A PROEFSSIONAL!)(dammit! I mean SHE THE FICTIONAL CHARACTER!), reacts with one of those faces where you are trying hard not to sneeze but it bubbles to the surface and you hear a weird wheezing noise. His face gets all red but his lips and nose are white at the edges from trying not to burst out in laughter. He reaches into his pocket, says he's being paged and will return in a minute, as he's walking rigidly out of the room with his butt cheeks clenched (clear as day).THERE IS NO PAGE. How do I know? Uh, I mean SHE. Because when he is being paged, you can hear a loud BEEP BEEP BEEP from his pager also known as a BEEPer.

So now this beautiful little angel is left alone with this Pretend Patient who is mortified because he would have to be blind not to understand exactly what happened.

What does she say? "I apologize but he has the urge to pass gas at odd times."

Yup. Defused that bomb. So to speak.

Turns out the patient is right handed but he had an injury on his right hand so he had to go left.
My sides hurt from laughing so hard. I mean HER- SHE-- Allegedly!

::SIGH::

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My body is trying to kill me! What a bitch!

You know how sometimes you're in bed and your house is cold so you're cuddled up to your George (a 21 year old teddy bear) and your blankies are up to your chin and your mouth is probably doing that sucking on a bottle OF TEQUILA thing?

There you are, warm, snuggling your teddy bear, probably dreaming of half naked Brad Pitts dancing around just for you when ALL OF A SUDDEN your leg decides it is tired of living and tries to commit harakiri 腹切り (only without the cutting of the stomach part)(don't get technical with me okay? I know that is the definition for harakiri but the last thing I need is for somebody else correcting me) in the most painful way imaginable by taking your calf muscles and twisting them until they look like this: 

This is what some call a Charley Horse and I call why-not-just-pull-my-heart-out-through-my-nose-you-rotten-bastard-that-way-I-will-die-faster. Both terms are acceptable.

Anyway, once you get the dreaded Charley Horse (I will use this term since the other one takes up too much space) you go from sound asleep to literally jumping straight out of bed and fighting the tentacles of your spouse/significant other/torturer frantically trying to straighten your leg and end the misery.

In the narrow space you have between your side of the bed and the wall, you start doing yoga poses, something you've never done while awake or sober, and you beg for the pain to go away. All this while your spouse/significant other/torturer/jerk laughs at the fact that you shot up 3ft in the air and did an amazing vault that deserved a 10 from the gymnast judges. He laughs and laughs and you swear at him that his pubic hair will be pulled out one by one without the benefits of anesthesia.

The pain is such that your mouth has an after taste unlike anything you've ever tasted. I mean, you'd remember if you had sucked on a tailpipe, right?

Then, just when you think the danger is over, you start to sit back on the bed and make the mistake of trying to get your leg to accompany the rest of your body. WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING??? This sends your spouse/significant other/torturer/jerk/jackass into uncontrollable laughter so you go looking for the tweezers to make good on your threat but then you notice walking is making it better.

You walk around for a little bit until you think the knot in your leg won't commit another act of treason. You go back to bed and your spouse/significant other/torturer/jerk/jackass/maggot offers to give you a (mocking)massage but you know any pressure will just make you cry blood so you politely tell him to go find a spoon and dig his eyeball out of his head.

You get in bed, assume the fetal position and drift into sleep. No longer is Brad Pitt in your dreams. Now you are just having all kinds of nightmares because your subconscious is telling you not to straighten your leg. This manifest itself by showing you images of mannequin legs sticking out of a dumpster. You wake up sore and realize you will have to torture yourself a little more by wearing your 4 inch stilettos to work because it's Friday and therefore your meeting day with OZ, or whatever your boss' name is.

You slip your sad foot into your shoe and wait for the stabbing pain that will stem from your deformed leg... but... NOTHING! The shoes are as comfortable now as they have been the previous times you've worn them. This means you must go out and buy another 10 pairs of the same exact shoe!

Uhm, so yeah. Drink water and eat bananas. That's what my trainer Ovi said will keep Charley Horses at bay.

Also? This did NOT happen to me. Allegedly.

Aww what the fuck! I saw Moulin Rouge on the cable guide only to be denied because it's the 1952 version! I was tricked! Bastards. Did you know that Colette Marchand (the Nicole Kidman of the 50s) had (maybe she's still alive and I'm killing her?) a lazy eye? And what is with the brutal kisses in old movies?? Did the director think it would make a movie sexier if it looked like the guy was trying to eat his lover's mouth?? Did they not get the memo that ravishing and ravenous are two different things???

 

P.S.

Today, I added the word *fuck* to my Live Writer dictionary. Champagne for everyone! Except Andy.

P.P.S.

My dog Tazz has been playing my nieces piano and I think he's pissed that he sucks because he keeps growling while he does it. Or maybe he's singing? I tell ya that I live in a nuthouse!

 

Humor-Blogs

How to start a kitchen fire in 5 easy steps.

1) put pan on burner
2) light burner
3) put oil in pan
4) go remove Tazz's jaw from Andy's leg
5) come back and put beans in hella-hot oil

Stand back and watch the oil, liquid, fire combine for a beautiful fire display. BUT! Beware of becoming hypnotized by the flickering flames because they might make you want to get closer and you'll end up with an unfashionable hairdo.

Yup! I sure did start a fire and nearly burned my house down! The sad part is that it was my first official cooking day.
Don't worry, everything is okay. Even though the microwave and cabinets were lit up like Rudolph after a week of binge drinking, nothing melted.

To quote Andy "Isn't making BEANS part of your DNA for cripessake??"

He's just mad because when I yelled out for help (normally I'm all calm, cool and collected but when I noticed the flames on my microwave and cabinets, something inside of me shit its pants) he came barreling from around the corner, assessed the situation and opened the back porch door and stood there in a semi crouched position…

… While he was getting ready to escape (WTF?) I turned off the burner and moved the pan to a less flammable area- the middle of the kitchen where there are no cabinets or cobwebs (do you know how fast cobwebs burn, YIKES!).
Andy claims he was opening the door so that I may run outside and throw the pan as far as my little person arms could (not far, it probably would have landed at my feet).

I think we need to set up cameras in my house because this for sure would have won us the title of "America's dumbest couple"! We later laughed our asses off because we can't seem to function when no real adults are present (mommy?).

The beans came out great in case you're wondering.

Also, for Angie and Abstract (and even Andy) who feel jipped (Word is saying I should replace *jipped* with *japed* I thought they were joking) because I didn't give more of the story yesterday:

I was helping a MEAN patient with her medical forms since she didn't speak English but then I got a phone call and had to go back in my office to take it. She followed me back to my office (BIG NO-NO) and continued yammering so I had to give her the "hold on a minute" finger but I must have been pissed at her because I used my middle finger instead of the index one. Accidentally of course…

The boob thing, I was wearing a new bra (TMI?) and the girls were not being contained properly so I adjusted them with my back to the door and my front to the window. I couldn't see anybody out there but our office is on the ground level, it faces the parking lot and it's a medical building right on a busy street, during rush hour. I didn't pop them out or anything but if anybody saw me, it was clear I was shoving them into submission.

Okay, I'll talk to you guys later, I'm off to put a frozen pizza in the oven. The kitchen is safe for one more day.

 

P.S.

Why is it that when I try to sound like Gwen Stefani I wind up sounding like Cher but when I try to sound like Cher I sound like Bob Dylan? It's making it very hard for me to sing "Don't Speak" and "If I could turn back time".

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Technorati Tags: Gwen Stefani,Cher,Bob Dylan,Me,Humor-Blogs

Well, who wants to grow up to be Uranus??

Do you see my rosy cheeks? Can you hear my girlish giggles?

I, ladies and gents, have ARRIVED! You know you've hit the big time when you get insulted by ---wait for it--- FRANCE!

Yeah! And I was called "chaildeesh" that is how I'm pretending they said it. Of course, it might just be an American in France but for the purposes of this post, we will say it is a French person.

Demeda, took exception to my tighty whitey post and called me, little ole' Bee from Chicago, CHAILDEESH! Um hello? I don't think that's really news to anybody, right?

Hey Demeda, if you, your spouse, your dog, your cat, your hamster are into tight, constricting, bulge defining underwear, more power to you.

Don't let a silly post like mine make you feel self-conscious and/or STOOPIT.

I hope I didn't insult him/her/it! Please come back Demeda. Please??



♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠

Convo between me and Andy while on our way to my brother's house for dinner.


Bee:
Hey, did you see my post from last night? Specifically the picture of the hot chick in the plumber getup?


Andy:
Uh, no. I was too busy defending the world from evil creatures. [or something like that]


Bee:
Well check it out when we get home. The chick had plumbers crack but I googled a picture of Uranus and I covered her butt crack.


Andy:
What? Like the PLANET URANUS??


Bee:
... ... ::blink:: No, YOUR ANUS! Yes the planet Uranus!! Do think I sit around waiting for the perfect picture opportunity to take a picture of YOUR ANUS??? More importantly, would I find your anus on google??


Andy:
I don't know what you do once I fall asleep!


Dear God did I laugh for about a half hour! Incidentally, my mom was in the car too. She must think we're a couple of weirdos.

Okay! Now I'm off to find the cure for all that ails us. Later mis amigos!

P.S.

To Brian, the system Demeda used was Linux. Just wanted you to be aware of the type of people you run with.

P.P.S.

No offense to Suzy whose mother is French. I'm sure she's very nice.

Humor-Blogs

I hired a new assitant.

I like her hair don't you? I'll come back later and do a proper post but The Warden is flickering the lights and locking my cell. Keeps saying it's bedtime! No time to fin--

Jellyrolls are not just for breakfast anymore.

The following post is RATED R.

No nudity but some flab.

Proceed at your own discretion! Hide the kids. Slap the cat! Smack your boss!
.
.
.
.
.
.
Ready?


So.. remember I said I was going to try to get in shape? Remember? It was in my insomniac post?? Come on you guys! You have to listen (or read) every once in a while! What if I'm drowning and I need you to fish me out of the bathtub?? Ummm, okay. Call Andy because some of you I don't trust! You KNOW who you are!!

Anyway, I was looking for some pin up girl pictures for umm, research on how long it took Google to produce images (.07 seconds! wow!) yeah, that's it. I came across my perfect pin up picture.
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.
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Don't laugh! That is so disrespectful!
She looks a little taller than me but basically... yeah. I still think my boobs are bigger but you can't have it all.

As I go on my little deflabbing adventure, I will put her in my side bar. Each time I lose a few pounds, I'll narrow her down a bit. Not sure how I'm going to do that but hey! I figure it'll be harder in real life so chopping off a few love handles from Ms. Jellyroll should be a piece of cake! Or, erm, celery! A piece of celery!

Now if I could only find a machine like this one:
I'd wear a little more clothes in case of a friction burn, YIKES!

What I need from you.
Whenever you can, if you remember, I need you to tell me how good I'm looking. Or how you can't even see traces of the chocolate chip cookie I smuggled in my hair.

Encouraging stuff like that.

I will not be starting my workout regimen until Monday because I have some food I need to eat so it doesn't go bad or feel like I'm neglecting it but after that, no sugary, fatty, creamy, delicious, mouth watering... ... ...
What? Did you need something? Can't you see I'm eating a bagel??

Wish me luck! Well, on Sunday I mean. Or now, you can wish me luck now if you want.
⌠⌠⌡⌡⌠⌠⌡⌡⌠⌠⌡⌡⌠⌠⌡⌡⌠⌠⌡⌡⌠⌠⌡⌡⌠⌠⌡⌡⌠⌠⌡⌡⌠⌠⌡⌡⌠⌠⌡⌡⌠⌠⌡⌡
Please stay tuned for the last post I will ever do of my brain dead assistant. I haven't done it because I've been busy at work (don't scoff! I can hear you!) so I haven't been able to type it up while pretending to work. I know, I feel sad for me too.

Later guys! This girl is beat and needs some snuggle time with her Georgie Bear.

Humor-Blogs

Add an onion and some celery with a side of beef and we have a nice pot roast.

So...
I couldn't sleep again. This is what you get at midnight.

I decided I'm going to start exercising again. I know what you're going to say "Why? You're perfect as you are!"
I know but... or should I say BUTT, I need to try something that will tire my body and hopefully let my brain sleep.

See, right now, I feel like this:
Who the hell styles Mrs. Pothead?? Green shoes and tacky earrings??

I honestly don't like comparing myself to a potato. While I love to eat them, they don't particularly strike me as the type of veggie one thinks to be sexy in nature. Don't look at me like that! You know what I mean!

The carrot however... it's lean, has a nice head of hair, looks like it can bitch slap a potato within seconds... Yup! That's my goal to slim down like a carrot! Hmmm, maybe I'd reverse the look of this picture and have the pointy part as my head... but then I'd have a tail and no hair.

Hold on while I search for a better picture.

Ewww! No!
No. Whatever the bunny does in the privacy of its own home...
What the...??? NO!
After 25 minutes of searching for the perfect picture of a slim carrot with legs, I give up! You have failed me Internet and also made me hungry! But at least now I'm tired.

What was wrong with Mrs. Pothead again? You know, besides her colorblindness and lack of fashion sense.

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Humor Bloggers dot com

What I need is hazard pay for all the purple nurples!

So…

Glynda’s on vaca until Thursday, which is just as well since she and I had an issue over the brain dead assistant. Here is a brief synopsis: OZ wanted a report on what she had accomplished. I typed it up and left nothing out. HE went berserk and tore Glynda a new one, before my very eyes, for not firing her! More on her on Friday.

Anyway, she’s the only nurse on Mondays so Scarecrow needed help with an older patient who has Alzheimer’s.

I volunteered like so:

“Ask Milton. Oh, she's in the bathroom? Where’s Tin-Man? The hospital making rounds? Crap! Okay.”

She needed help putting him on the X-Ray table so I helped. Then she asked me to fix his pillow. So I did.
And do you know what that DIRTY OLD BASTARD DID???
.
He. Grabbed. My. Boobs!!!!

You know, the ones I took off the market when I married Andy? Those!

SWEET HOLY FAMILY!

I almost died of shock right there! Only I controlled myself because my tender pechugas would have landed on his face. That's okay, he thinks OZ charges a lot, wait till he gets MY bill!

So now we have to amend Bee’s Rules for patients.

1) I will not watch your kid if you’re coming in for an exam. You can lock him/her in one of our closets.

2) I will not take your co-pay. Wait for the receptionist to come back from her pee break since I can't handle the pressure of putting a 20 into an envelope.

3) I will not get you a cup off coffee (the fuck??). I’m not your servant. If you ask me for one, you will see mild mannered ME turn into Red Face Spittle Woman!

4) I will not give you a lollipop if you are over 18. (unless you are a really hot guy)(hey, these are my rules and I can make any exceptions I want!) I will ask for ID (if you're hot I might linger in the bushes outside of your house). Don't use the excuse of having bad breath either because you can always carry mints.

5) Do not talk to me while we are passing each other in the hallway. You are a patient therefore beneath me.

And the new added rule:

6) You cannot grab my boobs! No! Bad! No grabby boobies! No! (unless you are a really hot guy)

You can, however, ogle me from afar. Maybe bring me some presents. I wouldn’t object to that.
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HEY! Watch your hands! You can't grab my butt either! (unless...)

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I want to thank Brian for scaring the ever lovin' CRAP out of me(!) by doing this post about my creepy stalker! Because of that I had to drink this very delicious pomegranate Mojito. Thanks Brian! I hope you're happy!


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