Sometimes, I wonder where my posts take a turn to Weirdville.

Andy and I went to Starved Rock this weekend.

We climbed stairs.

 

Laughed at silly warnings.

 

Reenacted said warnings and stood too close to a cliff.

Almost tripped over this huge tree! Where are the warning signs??

 

Found a cave people have been using as a toilet. ::shiver::

 

A guy who was with 3 teenage boys burst their little "cool! we found a cave!" bubble by saying "Boys, that there is human urine!" and it made me giggle.

 

Were completely hypnotized by the breath taking sights.

Oh wait, that wasn't what I talking about. Here it is:

That's not it either! Ah, I found it:

After all the climbing, tripping, and wood smelling, we headed back to the visitors center for some much needed soft serve ice cream. I sat facing the beautiful scenery with my back to the visitor center but something compelled me to turn around (probably Andy's lack of focus?) and that's when I noticed the woman in a tube top dress who kept readjusting the girls, waiting for... her client?

 

I swear she sat like that for about half an hour, probably longer but I finally dragged Andy back to the car after he went to get a ""soda"".

I now regret calling her a whore because she was probably waiting for her priest so she may confess her sins. Or maybe she was waiting for a date so she thought she'd pose for him so he'd get a good look on the way in? Sad. Poor little big boobed floozy whore! I cry for you.

 

 

What? I'm not insecure!

Maybe it's not a good idea to write a post while running a high fever because I seem to have lost my censoring skills.

I'm not really here right now because I'm still on a brain mending vacation but I needed to enlighten all the womens out there, and some men too I guess, on the benefits of house work.

I have an App on my iPhone called "Lose It!". It asks for your body weight, what your goal weight is and how long you give yourself to reach your goal, then it tells you how many calories you should consume per day in order to meet your goal.

You enter the things you've eaten and it calculates calories, fat, protein etc.

You may also enter the amount of exercise you've had for the day and it guesstimates how many calories you've burned. Since I just started the App on Monday, and haven't joined a gym yet, I counted going to my side job last night for 3 hours (because I was doing some cleaning and heavy lifting) and scrubbing the tub when I got home as part of my exercise. To play it safe, I typed in ONE hour of "housework" instead of 3 and the App told me I had burned about 219 calories.

niiice!

As I was scrolling down to look at their other options for exercise, I saw Darts, Frisbee, Home Repair and a bunch of others but the one that caught my attention was "Sexual Activity".

Strictly out of curiosity, I clicked on it to see what it said.

First it asks you for the intensity "passive, light, kissing" "general, moderate" & "Active, vigorous".

So I tested "passive" and entered an hour-

ERH! ZERO calories burned!

I tried "general" and that gave us-

33 calories burned. Close but no cigar!

I tried "vigorous" and that gave us-

55 calories burned for one hour. Kinda whimpered out there at the end huh?

I'm wondering how they test these things. Do they account for solo acts?

Anyway! Burning 55 calories after some vigorous schtooping versus 219 from house work?

Listen, I'm not one to dismiss scientific data without some careful consideration. And also, we all know an hour of some slap and tickle is only possible in that island we'll call "Yeahrightland"! Perhaps I've said too much?

So the lesson of the day, ladies and gents, is: Stop wasting your time with the kooky nooky and do something productive like scrubbing a tub!

If you run out of things to clean in your home, shoot me an email and I'll let you come over and help me clean my house for free. You read that right, FOR FREE!

And now? The Nyquil awaits me!

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

 

It all started on Friday THE THIRTEENTH ooh spoooooky!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My life? Pathetic.

I am going to start charging a separate fee when I translate sign language.

A long long time ago, when I was just a *little Bee*, my Spanish was horrible.

  (Isabella)(she's always mad at me)(like I bother her)

I was like a toddler learning to speak with half words/half grunts and finger pointing which was cute when I was 2 but not so much when I was older. My mom, with her maternal instinct set on high, would understand every single one of my *Spanish words* and so I got by.

This went on until the year we moved to Mexico and I was about 13. I learned the hard way that "negro gato" made no sense but "gato negro" meant *black cat*. (I know what you're thinking, those are the same words only in a different order. Very observant of you, Captain Obvious-Stater! I can use a lot of words but if they are out of order, they mean nothing! As evidence by this blog. Uh,  moving on.)

I say I learned the hard way because my aunts, uncles, and cousins had no mercy on this beautiful defenseless little girl and picked at every word, phrase, incorrect use of *este* my mouth uttered.

 

1. ¹este (adjective)
2. ²este (adjective)
3. ³este (masculine noun)
4. éste (pronoun)

 

Sure, I got back at them by calling them "ass-faces" or "jerk off bitches" in English because they only knew the one language so they'd be clueless but victories were always short lived.

I honed my Spanish skills the same way a ninja masters his fear of heights, the dark and large pointy objects being thrown at his head. As my vocabulary expanded, so did my confidence in slaying those taunting jackasses I called my family. (KIDDING! I love them all- except for 2)

I made a great pupil and assembled an army of Spanish words the likes not even the Spaniards themselves had known existed! I learned to side step their word darts and lob off a few of my own verbal grenades. People learned to be wary of my poisonous tongue.

And those victories were chiseled in the family hall of fame with the sharp needles of a drunk  porcupine!

Anyway, flash-forward to the present. Spanish has been a useful tool that has gotten me far in life. (Well, not so much *far in life* as *living in the suburbs*.) I have helped many hard working individuals needing a translator who wouldn't just make up words by adding an *o* or *a* to the end of an English word. The word "cast" does not become "cast-o" the word "fracture" does not become "fractur-a" okay it does because that's how you say fracture in Spanish.

My point is, I'm great at my translating duties.

There have been times when I've been embarrassed (like the time that dude hurt his shoulder from wiping himself) but, with the diligence of a nun kneeling during prayers, I have worked through the pain and discomfort.

This all changed on Monday. I was pranked again by that evil bitch, Karma.

I was called to the cast-room for translation. Nothing surprising about this patient. He had an ankle fracture, they were casting him, I was just going in to explain the x-rays, care of cast and to see if he had any questions.

Things were going okay but you could tell he had a question he seemed too embarrassed to ask.

Finally, OZ asks: Is there anything else before I leave.

Man: I was just wondering if me and my woman [I kid you not he said *my woman* !! Okay, I may be a tad judgmental especially because I call Andy *my man* but it's cute when I do it] will be able to [pumps hips] you know.

Ladies and gentleman, I've had a lot of awful experiences in my life, a bunch of embarrassing ones and a ton of nice ones but none of them ever prepared me for that! None!

Like there wasn't one time I thought, "Okay, I only have enough to pay for Nancy and Rick's bus ride home so I'll have to walk from here. Sure it's 10 degrees but that's okay because if I'm ever translating for a guy and he wants me to ask the doctor if he can have sex with his woman, this experience will come in handy!"

I bowed my head, and I tried to come up with a proper phrasing because I could not bring myself to utter the word *sex* in front of OZ.

Me: He wants to know if he can have relations with his girlfriend.

OZ [blushes, stands up straight, sprints for the door]: yeah sure! That's great! [leaves]

I know what you're thinking, '*relations*, Bee? What are you, living in an 18th century novel?' And to that I answer. Screw you! ::sobs:: Screw you.

The sad part? I don't think I needed to say one freaking word because his uh DEMONSTRATION? was universal in all languages! And besides! Do you need a flip book showing you what body parts you use for sex?

 

Do you really need your ankle?

Dumbshit.

I don't get paid enough.

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.

Andy and Bee's wilderness adventure!

As you may know, Andy and I sometimes go wild and visit far off lands. Like Wisconsin and Indiana.

Growing tired of carrying our own water for those long expeditions, we decided to keep our adventure local this weekend so we went to the great city of Amboy, Illinois. It's a 2 hour drive (which Andy drives roundtrip because I'm supposedly too reckless of a driver. I told him that, out in the country, it's okay to hit things that are trying to cross the road. As a matter of fact, they encourage it!) so we wake up before the birds, pack up Mocha (Tazz cannot handle a 2 hour trip and will let you know by vomiting in his kennel and all over himself which makes the drive oh so fragrant. Mocha on the other hand, will lay in the back seat or look out the window to see if a bird is within her reach) grab some Mickey Dee's coffee and make our way through the construction torn highways.

What's in Amboy, you ask. Well, there's corn.

And trees.

(Eat your hearts out Japanese Bonsai tree sculptureists! We have our own thing going over here!)

And fields.

And barns.

And strippers?

You have to be pretty hard up (no pun intended) if you need to drive 30 minutes to see boobies. I picture the strippers to be like the one in "My name is Earl"

More importantly, Amboy has peace and quite.

 

 

I didn't take a picture of peace and quiet though so you'll just have to imagine what that would be like.

Andy's parents have a trailer (or *caravan* in British speak) where they spend most of their spring/summer/fall weekends so we try and visit them a couple of times a year. I love going there (my mother in law cooks the yummiest food!)and would do so more often but there is always this wall to build or that function to go to... hmm that kinda sounds like I do other things than laze around.

It's amusing to see Andy pretend he's living out in the wilderness and has to chop wood to keep his family warm.

After many tries he finally connects with the wiggly wood.

I hid his face because he's making his "oh shit" face and he would kill me (kill me dead) for posting it on my blog.

We spent a nice relaxing day where we reminisced about olden times:
"I used to know a family who was too smart for my liking! I called them 'The Smarties'" (from my father-in-law)

We discussed world matters
"I'm hoping to be on the first wave of people sizzled if we're attacked" (optimist, me)
"No, since we are so far in, we'd probably suffer a full day before we die" (pessimist, Andy)

We watched the dogs and wondered what they were thinking.

 
"I really like to lick myself because I taste like chicken" (Corky)

 

"I wonder if he'll drop another cookie" (Mocha)

We normally go for a walk around the campground but my knee was bothering me due to an old sports injury from when I used to play football for the Toledo Tornados. Just kidding! I would never be caught dead in Toledo. It turns out I had rested my Betty Boop messenger bag on my knee the whole trip and since it weighed the same as a small sumo wrestler (because I had packed the important things that Amboy might not have, chapstick weighs 50 pounds, right?), it killed my knee. I didn't realize it until I went to get out of Andy's car and my face almost kissed the grass.

On our way home, we drove through a town called Waterman, we saw a sign on a bar that said "Mexican Wednesday" and then I joked about how, if I went in there on a Saturday, I would be booted while someone yelled "k'ent you see it says Wednesday?" (get it? because I'm Mexican?) and then Andy said that the people of Waterman are probably really nice and I'm a jerk for implying they're unkind to strangers and then I told him they had a drawing of a stereotypical Mexican man taking a siesta and as far as I was concerned me and the town of Waterman were even Steven. All this happened as we were driving in slow motion because the town of Waterman is this small so we wanted to finish our conversation before we entered the town of Hinckley.

Anyway, jokes on me because now I really want a siesta.

P.S.

I still feel like an elephants stinky crap. Thanks for asking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

True Story.

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

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

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

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

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

So we called Norm.

Norm:

Where are these alleged ants?

Us:

Everywhere.

Norm:

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

Us:

EvErYwHeRe!

Norm:

So not just in the kitchen??

Bee:

For shitake's sake Norm! EVERYWHERE!!

Norm:

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

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

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

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

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

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

All together now:

Everywhere!

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

I heard tiny, mocking laughter.

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

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

Glass half full?

So I know I'm supposed to do reruns but then I read back on my shi-stuff and I'm too embarrassed to repost such lameness soooooooo...

We went to the zoo on Sunday whereupon we saw this sign.

The way I see it, there are 2 kinds of people. Those that think.

"Holy crap! I guess my sex life could be worse!"

or

"Dammit! Even hippos are having more fun than I am!"

 

Which are you?

If she bends over, you'll know what year she was born. Also, see a duck mooning the crowd.

We went to the Laundromat again on Monday. I think we all know how much I detest that place. Every time we go, something happens that infuriates me!

This time it was a stupid washer that didn’t let me select any other cycle other than ‘woolens’. Normally I would have just taken my clothes out and found one that had its entire workable buttons but the ones that weren’t being used, had little out of orders signs. I decided to just leave it there, what could go wrong?

Well, it turns out that the soap compartment wasn’t working properly and so my clothes received the same cleaning my uncle Ricardo gave himself when he was 10 and he pretended to shower by wetting the top of his head but not bothering to remove the dirt stains from his face.

The options were to rewash them which would mean spending more time in the demon’s armpit or just dry them and call it a day. My uncle Ricardo would be proud.

Next up, a lady set her basket on my table. Some of you may remember the near nervous breakdown that caused the last time. This time I remained calm (as calm as a teeny tiny raft on a raging river), cool (as cool as a walrus in a sauna) and collected (as collected as the hippo stamp)(I don’t know what that means either but I couldn’t come up with anything anti-collected). I decided not to say anything until it was time for me to use the table. When her husband went to move the basket without me having to say anything, I heard her say “leave the basket there”

It. Was. ON!

Unfortunately, she left the L’mat (that's what we cool non washer having people call it) to have dinner while her clothes were in the wash so she didn’t see me grab her basket and throw it on a washer. I told Andy “Don’t worry babe. If she comes in here and says something, I’ll take her outside!” but my Andy, being the kind hearted person he is said “uh Bee? She and her husband are both bigger than we are…” so I told my man he could wait in the car while I took care of them both.

I really thought she'd say something when she came back because she was also a Latina and I know I would have said something but she didn’t. She must be one of those higher plane people with normal blood pressure I keep hearing about.

Things at work are a little better since OZ is on vacation yet again. Boy, the economy hasn’t hit that dude one bit! Anyway, he still has peculiar requests when he calls. His most recent one was odd even for him. He wants me to Google ‘why we should send a refund to an insurance company’. When I asked if I may just CALL the insurance company themselves and ask them directly why they’re requesting the refund:

“No! JUST GOOGLE IT! I want a full report when I come back on Monday!”

Um okay? While I have my googler out I will also ask “why does my boss think google is a magic 8 ball?”

That man cracks me up. He cracks me up like a baseball bat to the head cracks me up.

We took my mom and Natalia to the Botanic Gardens on Sunday and while Natalia, my mom and Andy tanned, the sun left its mark on my scalp, chest, arms and feet the way a soccer ball did to my thighs when I tried to stop a goal (what a fun memory! The imprint of a half moon on each thigh was an awesome thing to explain to people). I remember being able to tan just by standing near a window now I have to cover up like I’m 106.

I love going to the gardens. I was happy to see that a lot of the plants/flowers they planted are the same ones I’m trying to encourage to grow in my garden. Sadly, mine got too much water earlier this year so they’re struggling but I’m hoping they come back healthier next year.

Of course, plants aren’t the only things you see at the botanic gardens.

There was also a woman in a sheer maxi-mini dress in 5 inch platform stripper shoes. I didn’t take a picture of her, even though I could have, because I worry about the content I put on this here blog. I certainly do not want to corrupt/offend anyone with delicate sensibilities so instead I drew a picture of her.

censored for your protection.

Yeah I know! Ewwwww!

So anyway, later alligators.

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!!!

I am going to surgically attach my cell to my wrist because that way I will never ever miss important photo opportunities like big yellow-red rats mocking PETA.

Have I ever told you guys how defenseless I feel when I forget my cellphone? I constantly find myself reaching for the spot where it usually rests on my desk. I would have taken a picture of the spot but I forgot my cellphone.

You see, my cell is no longer something I just make phone calls with. Since I no longer have access to the internet at work (which sucks because I can no longer harass Brian and jean knee while I’m at work so now they go on about their lives in peace and who wants that???), I check my email on it, read my favorite blogs, AND take pictures of interesting things.

On Friday, I forgot it at home. And what happens??? Across the street from my office some dudes inflated a giant rat! A giant scary rat with fangs and claws ready to eat you up! This thing was huge and not really lifelike because it was yellow and red but it still had a menacing look to him.

We stood in front of the window wondering what they were advertising using a rat. They had inflated it near some apartment building so one of the bats said, “maybe they’re trying to advertise vacant apartments” and I was like “with a rat?? ‘Hi! Come live here, we have rats!’ No, I doubt it.”

Then, when the coffee made me smurt, I figured out they weren't advertising, they were protesting something. Unfortunately, we couldn’t make out what the signs said and I was too lazy to walk over, the street is one of the busiest in the area, so I just came up with different scenarios in my head.

-They were protesting Scarecrow's very short shorts because hello? It’s Casual Friday not Hoochie Dress Up Day. I know some older women can pull it off but picture the old tanned lady from Something about Mary. Only more wrinkly.

- They were protesting PETA's obsession with eating rocky mountain oyster. Seriously, PETA! You guys are sick!

- They were protesting because I haven't gotten a raise in my allowance in 3 years. We need to know why! I've done all most of my chores!

- They were protesting Milton's constant criticizing on their disorganized protest. "They should hold the signs up higher! They should have printed bigger signs! I can't read what they say! Why is that man on his cellphone?? He doesn't seem too interested in his protest!" and so on.

I was upset with myself for not having my phone so I may photo document this exciting event but I think I came up with a solution so that you may experience what I was seeing semi-first hand.

I was originally going to draw it for you but my drawing looked like cavemen chasing a chia pet so I recreated it with things around my house.

Okay, here we have that big dragon thing representing the rat, a couple of Bonsai trees representing the trees, flowers representing flowers, Betty Boop in her smoking convertible representing cars driving by and honking their support, the 2 Mexican ladies, Han Solo and Pinocchio representing the protestors.

Here is a close up.

Here is an aerial view taken from the Bee chopper in the sky. I don't know what that mini bottle of Tabasco sauce is doing there. Maybe it was left there after their lunch?

We never did find out what they were protesting and they left before I got out of work but I saw Norm talking to them and I'm sure he'll give me the full scoop on Monday.

P.S.

The Sunday Comic should be back next Sunday. We have been a tad busy but I'm planning on making Andy drink nothing but Red Bull this week so his slacking days are over!

Peter picked a pile of pickled hos.

I was sitting at my desk, typing my own business, when Scarecrow came and told me she had a funny story that she knew I would appreciate because I, me, myself am such a great story teller. I cut her off and asked her to please tell me more about how great I am before I let her continue with her ““funny”” story.

Here is what she told me:

The other day I made pickles but I wanted to get them out of my house so I took some to both my mom and my mother-in-law and my minivan smelled like pickles all day even though I bought an air freshener!

[I waited for the punch line]

[I scratched my head and stuck my pinkie in my ear because it was itchy]

[I looked at the time and wondered how many lollipops I could stuff in my mouth without drooling]

[I finally had to ask…]

Is that it?

Scarecrow:
Yeah. Isn’t it funny?

Bee:
Tell ya' what I’m gonna do for you. I am going to overhaul your story so that when you tell it to people, you get a couple of chuckles.  (Yeah, I have that much of an ego.) Ready?

Scarecrow:
Okay.

Bee:
— I made some pickles this weekend only to realize I had more than my husband and children would ever eat, I don’t like pickles you see, so I decided to give some to my mom and mother-in-law. Despite the forecast for cool weather, the day was hot n’ humid and as a result they were particularly eh… pungent. Okay lets be honest they STUNK like a $4 dollar hooker with a hangover on a summer day!

[wait for snickers here]

I opened my windows and drove merrily singing to Dr. Dre's’ “Nuthin' But A 'G' Thang"—

Scarecrow:
What song is that?

Bee:
It doesn’t have to be that song but pick one that would be bizarre hearing you sing.

— Even though the smell was overpowering, I imagined the pleasure my moms would have when eating their pickles so I tried to breathe through my mouth. Besides, once I delivered them, the smell would leave my car, right? WRONG!

The scent clung to every fiber of my minivan with the tenacity of a koala bear on peyote.—

Scarecrow:
Koala Bear?

Bee:
It doesn’t have to make sense.

— I stopped at a nearby Walgreen’s and bought a piña colada air freshener in the hopes that the coconut would drive the smell away but the only thing it did was have me daydreaming of rum.

[wait for applause here]

Scarecrow:
I didn’t know you didn’t like pickles!

Bee:
::sigh:: I love pickles but I know YOU don’t like pickles and you have to make people aware of that fact so they know why the smell of them would drive you insane.

Scarecrow:
Oh. I don’t think I can remember all that but I’ll try it.

[later in the day]

Scarecrow [to PD]:
I bought a piña colada air freshener because my minivan smelled like a hooker covered in pickle juice!

And that, my friends, made me laugh.