Mug Shots

Was today one of those days that had you responding "fuck off!" even when someone was just saying "good morning!"?

No? Was it just me? I must be getting less tolerant in my old age. And so begins my moaning about turning another year older in approximately 31 days!

Anyway.

Sunday was my 5th Anniversary at Arkham Asylum. I remember when I first started here, at the young whipper snapper age of 32 (although soon to be 33), and was still a Bambi (naive with balancing issues) with hopes and dreams and a small coffee cup. After a couple of years, I bought a bigger cup because my escapes from my desk for coffee refills became less and less frequent.

This year, to celebrate the demise of my sense of humor when it comes to the Asylum, I graduated to an Andre the giant sized cup. I stopped kidding myself about being able to leave my desk. Ever.

I know what you're thinking, doesn't this mean more potty breaks? I won't tell anyone if you don't!

Of course this also means I am celebrating 5 years of playing "Fetch OZ's sandwich" which is always nice. Especially because one of my joys in life is walking across a vacant lot, side stepping dog poop landmines, in 4 inch heels for a meatball sandwich that somebody else is going to eat.

Yay me!

And if I happen to be at lunch when his majesty wants *HIS* lunch? Well, Glynda and her CSI skills track my ass down.

Glynda [walks into my office doesn't see me so she asks Milton]: Where's Bee?

Milton: Lunch.

Glynda: I was just in the lunchroom and she's not in there but I noticed the toaster is still warm.

Milton: Maybe she stepped out?

Glynda: But her purse is still here. [points at my chair where I place my purse and then swivel it to face the wall so that I don't get burglared by criminal patients]

Milton [starts fidgeting because now she's faced with a puzzle she cannot solve (no, I wasn't there to see it happen but I know my Milton)]: Um well maybe she walked to the gas station/Subway.

Glynda [dusts my area with special tracking powder]: Her car keys were sitting on this ledge and now they’re gone.

Milton: I-I-I don't know where she could be! [cries]

Glynda [she leaves the business office and is hot on my trail]: The foot pattern in the kitchen indicates she headed to the back door. Tiny miniscule crumbs tell me she left the building. This twig that was lying facing the handicap parking spot is now broken in half with the longer piece pointing east. Aha! She's eating her toasted sandwich in her car!

And then I heard a knock on my car window so I looked up and there, in her 4 foot 9 inch flashy white uniform, stood Glynda.

Glynda: OZ needs a meatball sandwich with cheese and 5 onion slices right now.

Yeah, she must still believe in Santa Claus if she thinks I'm gonna jump like a trained poodle and rush over to fetch his sandwich before I've had my lunch.

Me: Did you bring me money?

Glynda: Uh, no but Milton can get it for you.

Me: Okay, I've got another 15 minutes. I'm sure OZ won't die of starvation before then.

Glynda: Will you go right now if I bring you the money.

Me: No.

Glynda: I'll tell him you're on your way anyway. No sense in upsetting him.

And she waited for me to respond but my brain had already dismissed her.

In the amount of time it took her to track me down, she could have walked over to get his damn sandwich but I guess it wouldn't have tasted as good.

One more year of this silliness before I'm fully vested in our retirement fund!

Andyisms:

We spent the weekend at my in-laws house and woke up before sunrise on Sunday morning. As I was getting ready to go outside so that I could witness the sunrise, I asked Andy if he was going to come outside with me and his response was classic Andy:

"Well of course you sappy bastard!"

He makes my heart SOAR!

Dejected, Rejected, Ejected!

I am usually good at things I set my mind on doing. My self and I have a little pep talk "Self, I know jumping rope is a gravity defying activity especially for you and your, um, well rounded booty but you've done it before. Granted, there was less of you when you were 10 but just remember to land on your feet and not your elbows. NOT THE ELBOWS!" After a few failed attempts and some detangling, I become an expert/professional/master.

This usually works on anything I really want to do. Except whittling. For some reason, everything I whittle winds up looking like a penis. Shut up Freud! If God intended me to whittle, he would have given me 3 extra fingers on each hand instead of good looks.

Anyway, working at Anonymous Clothing Store has been pretty easy. I take direction well and I'm not at all snobbish when told to mop or dust or even clean the freakin toilet. I've gotten pretty good at helping customers find what they they're looking for, rearranging clothes, keeping the displays neat and tidy and even the panty carrousel semi organized. It's all been a breeze and I have even kept my vicious tongue in check so as not to pulverize the lady who told me she was a Walmart girl and proceeded to have a fit when I told her a pair of underwear were not included in the 5 for $19 panty sale without letting me finish that this pretty little thong was only 96 cents. A bargain Walmart would be proud of [bitch!, she whispers].

The one thing I'm still having difficulty doing is getting people to apply for the store credit card.

I hear the rest of the girls, or old veterans as I call them, rattle off the spiel without any effort and then cooing in their victims ear as they take their wallet. While I can rattle off the spiel, I find myself hesitating to deliver the death blow that would have these poor suckers chained to the store forever. Speaking as a sucker myself, of course.

I can relate to people giving me the brush off when I say shit like "If you open the credit card and you use it on a regular basis, each dollar you spend BLAH BLAH BLAH"

I'm used to being on the other side of that spiel after buying my car, Andy's car and dealing with Bally's dickheads who almost forced my friend, who weighed NINETY POUNDS, to join against her will when all she was doing was keeping me company for the day with a guest pass. Those dumb bastards (yep, I really hate Bally) had us tour the gym (I usually went to one in Chicago and this one was one in a suburb) with a hot blond guy thinking we'd swoon and she'd sign her life away.  Well they only got it half right.

Pfffft! I don't need a hot muscular guy! I have my Andy!

Then, when we didn't fall for his twinkling blue eyes, they sent a reject from the Oompa Loompa factory who tried to to intimidate me by studying my membership card and saying "accidents can happen, ya know?" well, he didn't say it with words but I can read eyes. He just kept saying my name over and over as if to hypnotize me with with his slimy liver lips. I finally grabbed my card from his sweaty hands and said "if hot guy couldn't get her to join, why do you think you could?" and I told my friend, who seemed to be in a daze, to get up because we were leaving!

So yeah, my whole rambling point is that I know what it feels like to be hounded into doing something you don't want to do and yet I still find myself saying, in a last ditch effort to suck them into temptation, "For today only, whether you get approved or not, we will give you a discount of 25% off your entire purchase if you apply!" but instead of luring them into my pit of overextended credit, these responsible individuals, these paragons of virtue, these goody two shoe nerds who probably pay with cash and do weird things like save money in a bank, tell me to suck it because they ain't falling for my scam!

And so I'm left standing there, sad, lonely and dejected. Like a reject from the Oompa Loompa factory. Minus the liver lips.

Bastards.

P.S.

Thank you all for the comments, emails and the support. You have no idea how much that has helped me. I'm sorry it took me a while to moderate the comments but I keep getting spammed by people trying to get me to enlarge my penis. Again.

Anyway, your comments touched this jaded girl's heart and that's all I'm gonna say about that. ;o)

Jean Knee? Rawwr! 

I am not a farmer so I hate it when people mess with my routines!

So, remember how I keep telling you that my work computer is virus infected so I can't go on the internet and the majority of the programs are corrupt therefore I am unable to access them anymore? I've learned to live with it for the most part but today its failings almost made me lose what's left of my mind. Wait. That deserves an exclamation point and and some capitals. WHAT'S LEFT OF MY MIND!

As most of you may know, we changed the clocks this weekend. Now, Instead of waking up before the sun rises, I wake up before the sunrise. So yeah, the only difference for me is that now I have to fight the thugs who loiter in the parking lot after 5 because it's dark when I leave the office.

Anyway, back to the computer issue.

The time didn't update on my computer. Right now, as I type this, the time reads 12:51 PM but it's actually 1:51 PM. Due to the virus, I cannot go in to fix it manually because I get an error message stating "your computer is so fucked, you may as well just grab your ankles!". I know an hour doesn't seem like a big deal but, when you base your happiness on how much longer you have to be at your desk before you can shake the shackles and hit the road to temporary freedom (because we know we'll be back in less than 15 hours)(unless we get hit by a train. then it may take longer), not knowing the right time is nerve racking.

So at 9:30 I thought it was 8:30 but then I counted how many sips of coffee I've had and concluded it was impossible for it to be 8:30. I adjusted my brain clock and continued working. A little later, my phone rang and I noticed it was 10:15 so I had to sit and stare at my computer for a few seconds while trying to remember if I was supposed to add or subtract an hour. I HATE MATH! I figured out it was 11:15 and moved on to another project.

Everything was fine until my stomach started making horrible growling noises. I looked at the time (notice a pattern here?)(of me being a dumbass?) and thought "what is the matter with you, Jelly (as in Jelly Belly)? it's only 11:45! I normally feed you at noon!" 1... 2... 3... "Oh crap! It's probably 12:45!"

Which brings me to this very moment. I've decided to do this:

and look like an idiot instead of being late for lunch ever again!

Sometimes work is just so stressful!

You're ruining iPhone day!

I know you guys already know I have an iPhone because of the comic strip Andy did a few weeks ago (and because I won't shut up about it) but I don't think I ever shared the horrific battle that went on on the day I designated as "iPhone Day" and I really thinks it's a story that needs to be told. If not only to teach us all how to love.

It all started a couple of years ago when Apple announced they were coming out with the coolest most awesome-est cell phone ever. I went on their website and drooled and then I sent an email to everybody I knew (10 people)(okay 6) letting them know that when this phone came out, I, Bee Cor-Rut, would be the first in our family to own it!. Then I was kicked in the crotch by the price so I waited patiently for it to come down. Then I was crushed and one upped by Big Tex who bought one WHILST he was still working for Sprint. He then left Sprint and went to work for At&t because the evil Sprint spell had worn off and he knew he would do more good at At&t.

Okay, some time went by and they came up with a newer version, Big Tex bought the newer version and gave his hand me down to my sister Nancy.

Okay.

That's fine. I would bide my time for my perfect opportunity.
Then my brother Dan bought one. ::sigh:: Oh well at least I didn't have to see him every day . . .

Then Andy's phone went kapluey so the sensible thing was to replace his with an iPhone since it was only $50 more than a blackberry. Well, I married the man so I guess I shouldn't be this raving jealous so I wasn't, much.

To add insult to injury, my MOM bought one. You know what? She deserves it! I mean she delivered 5 children and I'm sure it wasn't the most pleasant of experiences since she didn't believe in epidurals.

Then my brother Sergio got one. He bought the iPhone with 36 iggybites and Christmas bells. In the meantime, I had a paper clip attached to my phone so that I could make phone calls.

Finally, after months of saving, I had enough for my very own iPhone. I called CNN, the Chicago Sun Times, the Daily Herald etc. and everybody was excited for me because they knew I was looking forward to this phone for years.

Via text message.

Bee: Big Tex, I coming over and buying an iPhone.

Big Tex: Okay.

Bee [as an after thought]: Can you check to make sure we have an update available?

Hours later, I see Big Tex is calling me. Must be serious.

Bee: Hhhhhhhello?

Big Tex: You're not eligible for an update until March of 2010.

Bee: Say huh?

[without the update the phone would be twice as much therefore making it impossible for me to buy]

Big Tex: Your brother Rick used your update earlier this year illegally at Radio Shack.

[Radio Shack can suck it! Dumb shit law breaking fuckers!]

Bee: ::cries::

Big Tex: This is what I suggest you do... [the rest is top secret][but it may have involved beating up Radio Shack]

Bee: ::mfhhmm sob:: ok

I get home and am rushing around making dinner (Country style BBQ ribs made in the slow cooker with my infamous mashed potatoes mmmmm) and I'm explaining all this info to Andy.

Bee: blah blah Rick, Radio Shack blah blah

Andy: ::ROAR ROAR!!!!::

Bee: STOP ROARING AT ME! Big Tex suggested... [explains top secret secret][SCREW YOU RADIO SHACK!!]

Andy: ::ROAR NO! ROAR ROOOOOOOAR!!::

and so it went for a few minutes.

Bee: You are going to make my head explode!! Not to mention you are ruining iPhone day!

So we brought the meal downstairs to eat amongst my family. Hello Awkward? It's me, Bee. It was tense because Andy and I were crushing each other's heads with our minds.

After a while, Andy came to his senses (the prospect of sleeping in the garage with the spiders was too much for him).

Andy: Fine.

And so we drove to the magical building that is At&t. This older lady beat us to Big Tex so we patiently waited. Oh look! My future case!


And we waited. People watched.

Some Kid and his parents came in because he was having problems with his phone. Turns out he was stupid enough to take a dunk in the lake with his cell phone in his pocket. Guess what, brain donor, no upgrade for you! Yeah, I guess I was being too cocky after my sobbing episode earlier in the day but that's part of my charm.

The parents decided not to buy him a replacement for $275 and opted to buy him a cheap GO phone at Best Buy for $30 and then just put in his SIM card. Even after he PROMISED TO PAY THEM BACK! He didn't say WHEN he'd pay them back. My guess was 2014. I'm glad the parents stuck to their guns because I see so many kids getting what they want when they want with no accountability for when they screw up. Take the 8-9 year old who was there with his mom and she was scolding him for the 200 text he had sent. Wow. My mom would have smacked me until I lost track of time.

And we waited some more.

It turns out that the woman buying the phone had been cryogenically frozen in the year 1679 and therefore needed a crash course in technology "but how can I hear the peoples talking in my ear?" so Big Tex had to patiently walk her through all the marvelous inventions available. If you are asking yourself how come they had Cryogenics in 1679 but they didn't have cell phones, I can't answer that because I wasn't around in 1679, I don't care how many rumors Andy spreads to the contrary.

I have to say this for Big Tex, he is a great, respectful salesman because when we mocked the woman after she finally left, he smiled at us, kinda like a father smiling at his wayward children, and then got down to business.

So far so good! I had my case in my hand, all I needed was the iPhone to go in the case. He brought one from the back, opened the box, put the plastic-y thing on the screen, put it in the case and then walked away with it.

I stood there, arms outstretched, watching my phone go to another part of the store. I assume this is what new moms feel like when they give birth and then watch their babies be taken away after a fast glimpse so that they can clean them and the mom's are thinking "are they bringing my baby back?? Don't take my baby away!". It's exactly like that right? Only mine was worse because I didn't even get to hold it close to my bosom before it was carted away. I was weepy because like all mother's I had already bonded with the little guy.

Anyway, Big Tex finally brought my baby and we finally walked out of the At&t store and celebrated by getting a Dunkin Donuts coffee for me and a strawberry milkshake for Andy.
(In case you're wondering, I took a picture of my iPhone with my iPhone, it is that cool!)

And the 9 of us lived happily ever after.

9= Andy, his iPhone, Me, my iPhone, Tazz, Mocha, Big Moe, Larry O. Pompadour and Curly the Acrobat.

P.S.
I promise this will be my last post about my iPhone. Unless it saves my life one day by pulling me outta of a well. Then all promises are off!

So hey! I'm still here!

Just wanted to say real quick that I'm trying to recover from the rage of the Olympic committee being such butt munchers and tossing my Chicago out like a used snot rag! I will now boycott all Olypic events until the day my mind forgets what the Olymipcs are.

I will not watch a single event which is pretty much what I do every Olympic year but that's neither here nor there.

Jokes on the because I didn't want all those people eating all my pizza anyway.

I'll be back later Monday with a "real" post.

P.S.
Zombieland rocks ass! "it's time to nut up or shut up" is now my most favorite phrase in the whole world!
Okay I may have had too much OJ and vodka with my Danish butter cookies. Then I ran out of OJ.

'Dream Catcher'? Not so much! More like 'Dream Stealer'!

Scene:
Dark bedroom, approximately midnight, man, woman and dogs snoring. When suddenly! Man is jolted awake by ""noise"" coming ""inside"" the house!

Andy [shakes Bee awake]: Bee! Did you hear that?

Bee [is jolted from a deep sleep]: Whaa?? Who? Cheese?

Andy: Did you hear that? There was a loud bang!

Bee [punches pillow]: No. And if the dogs aren't barking then you were probably dreaming.

Andy: I'm gonna go check it out. You stay here.

Bee: ::sigh:: [gets up]

Andy: Where are you going?

Bee: You know that, of the two of us, I'm the one who can really kick ass.

Andy: I'm tempted to let you go out there and get your butt kicked just to bring you down a notch.

Bee: Hey, if you want to unleash me solo, I won't disappoint. [gets in karate kid bird position, almost topples]  The intruders will get a roundhouse kick to their—

Andy: Ankles? Shush and go back to bed.

Bee: Hell no. [notices Mocha] Mocha! Go back to bed! It's like Scooby and the gang meet the mummy over here.

Andy carefully peeks around the corner, leans his head out of the hallway and slowly makes his way towards the kitchen. I cough. Loudly.

Andy: BEE! What the hell! You want to give away our position?

Bee: "give away our position"? This isn't 'Nam. Besides, why aren't you yelling at Mocha?? Her tags have been jingling the whole time!

Andy: You know what? I'm kicking you both off of my island.

Bee: Oh my goodness! Listen!

Andy: What? WHAT??

Bee: Silence. It's just me and the chickens. [points at him and the cowering Mocha]

Andy: Okay. So maybe I was dreaming.

Bee: Ya'think?

Andy:  It felt real. . . [goes back to bed]

Bee: Does this feel real. [smacks Andy on the butt-ocks]

Andy: Ouch! Now I'll never be able to go back to slee— ::SNORE::

2 hours later, Andy is snoring, Mocha is wheezing, Tazz (who never woke up for the midnight adventure) is snorting. Bee? Bee is still wide awake, tossing and turning. PUNCHING HER PILLOW!

 

Stay tuned for the illustrated version on Sunday.

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

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

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

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

And he did.

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you Mom and Pop R.!

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

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

My heart sings for you, my beautiful washer!

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

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

I know I just became cooler in your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

Well, until the free booze wore off.

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

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

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

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

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

Bee: Will you dye my hair?

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

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

Until.

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

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

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

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

Andy: Stop fidgeting you big baby!

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

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

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

We walk to the bathroom.

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

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

Both of us hopping. I'm serious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Andy: JERK!!

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

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

Stay tuned for the illustrated version on Sunday.

My trash your treasure + OZ steps out of line and I smack him back!

So, the yard sale went great!

We had wonderful weather... okay, maybe it was a little chilly but it was still enjoyable. We sat in my front yard under the canopy of trees and watched as cheapo people left without buying any of my CRAP treasures.

Milton had a great time. I think she also liked the fact that she was able to bond with the family members I'm constantly talking about (my sister, her girls, my brother Rick, my mom, Maria THE VEGETERIAN and her little daughter Sofia).

She did do a bunch of Milton things like reorganizing the shoes we were selling not once, twice, three times but like 500 times. She claimed somebody must have removed a $2 sticker on one of her items and placed a 50 cent sticker instead.

She also had kittens each time someone asked me what I was selling something for and I would talk myself down. "well, I want $3 but give me $2 and it's yours!"

She stuck to her prices and refused to negotiate which is probably why she's got more Benjamins than I do. The funny thing is that she owned up to her OCD and I have to say I enjoyed her company immensely.

There was one item I regretted putting out as soon as a lady picked it up. It was a gorgeous magazine rack that was almost new but I had put it away because I was abusing its magical powers and stacking too many magazines at one time.    

When she asked me the price, I said $3 and had it in my head that if she thought it was too much, she could go eff herself. She gave me the $3 (in quarters!!!) and drove off with my irreplaceable, priceless magazine rack. I MISS YOU MAGAZINE RACK!!

The downfall of this weekend is that, thanks to Milton, I am now on a first name basis with a lot of my neighbors and their dogs. I now more about their problems than I care too! I swear to Nihm that if any of them so much as smile at me because they *know* me, I will fling poo at them! I liked not knowing anybody but Boomhauer and Wilson. My sanctuary has been trespassed and contaminated!  The dogs were cute though.

I didn't make a lot of money (nope, can't retire yet) but the important thing is that my JUNK treasures are now gathering dust in someone else's house. (MAGAZINE RACK, COME BACK TO ME!!)

Coming back to work today, I had a conference call scheduled where OZ was going to have to man up and scare this guy I had been having a verbal sparring match with for the past couple of weeks. Instead he wimped out and postponed the call for Friday because he didn't have enough "" facts "". It pissed me off but then I remembered it wasn't my company and so I had my rice pudding.

When I went to lunch, OZ stepped into the kitchen and started asking me questions about that same account.

I don't know about you but I don't get paid while I'm at lunch. I also don't like distractions when I'm trying to enjoy my ham samich so I said.

Bee: I didn't bring the chart to lunch with me because I eat lunch at lunch.

OZ: Oh, but I'm sure you have some memory of the account details.

Bee: No, not while I'm at lunch because all I'm thinking about when I'm at lunch is my lunch.

OZ: Well, can you just answer me this one question?

Bee: Suuuuuure! When I get back from lunch.

Staring contest ensues.

OZ [leans against the kitchen sink]: ...

Bee [pats her ham sandwich]: ...

OZ [crosses his arms]: ...

Bee [takes a bite of her sandwich]: ...

OZ: ... I guess I'll buzz you when you get back from lunch.

Bee: I'm staying an extra 5 minutes which is about how long this conversation took. [I wink]

OZ: Okay. Just let me know when you get back.

Bee: You betcha!

 

That's what I'm talking about!!! MOFO interrupting me and my smoked ham sandwich!

Have another bottle!

Andy and I just returned from a  reunion a former boss of mine hosted. Andy was going to finish up the comic strip once we got home but he fell asleep on the sofa and I don't have the heart to wake him up. He worked on the laundry room up until we left for my reunion and was a perfect husband once we got there. I think I may be a little tipsy since I feel like gushing over how awesome he is.

Maybe it's the fact that I was just reminded of a time in my life when my home life and work life were in perfect harmony.

I always boast about the amazing perks I had while working for Bob (former boss)(He also called himself an SOB 'Sweet Ole Bob'). He treated all of his employees with respect and made it apparent to anybody who would listen how he valued each and every one of us. My sister and I joined his company late in his life so he retired a couple of years after we got there. His heir decided he didn't want to continue in his footsteps so the company was sold to a bigger, heartless company who slowly started dismembering all the work he had done over the past 25 years.

Nobody knows how old he is because he has kept up with his looks via a very skilled physician, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, but don't think I'm mocking him. Not at all. He is my hero. I mean, the man would bring wine for us to drink while we were at work, let us leave at noon on Fridays, took us out for lunch for our birthdays and oh yeah, did I mention the booze?

Because all people I admire tend to have quirks, he is no different. Today, for example, he told my sister and I that he had invited his physician to meet us because she was Mexican and maybe we could brush up on our Spanish. He also asked if we wanted something to drink and I said we'd like something nonalcoholic so he said "Coca? I have some Coca. I keep it for the guys that do my lawn." which translated means his Mexican gardeners. Ha! That may sound a little racist but the man goes out of his way to make people happy.  The kicker? He asked me if I had children and when I told him no, "What? Is there a problem? [points at Andy] Do you need me to step in?" Dirty old man you say? You'd be right but ya' know what? The dude is hilarious!

I felt sad for a minute because his amazing personality is still going strong and I miss so very much the days I would wake up in the morning and head to a place I enjoyed working in. So many memorable things happened during my time there. I got married, the unfortunate events of 9-11 happened, my beautiful Natalia was born all these things affected my life in one way or another. Not to mention this was the everyday view from my office:

In the end I'm thankful I had the opportunity to work for his company. I met some of the greatest people that I still keep in touch with. I also know there are bosses out there, somewhere, who treat their employees like people and not disposable snot rags. (Thanks OZ- you fucking asshole!)(he knows why I'm mad at him)

So I raise my glass to all great bosses out there! Thanks S.O.B.!

And to all the people who work for them? Don't take them for granted because you may never again have the  pleasure of truly loving your job, liking the people you work with and having an amazing employer.

 

And now for a Zen moment.

P.S.

My green shoes looked awesome and practically stole the show!

P.P.S.

Don't tell Andy I was all *Andy crazed* okay? I'm sure I'll be back to my normal self tomorrow so he doesn't need to know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Andy:

What are you doing?

Bee:

Uh making cupcakes?

Andy:

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

Bee:

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

Andy:

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

Bee:

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

Andy:

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

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

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

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

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

Signs of the Apocalypse at Arkham Asylum

Just when I think things at work can't get any worse I get an unexpected kick to the crotch.

I don't know if you've noticed, OR CARE, but I have not mentioned my search for an assistant this year. It's partly because I'm a superstitious fool and I do believe that me saying the words out loud or, you know, on a post, may jinx my overworked-but-happy-not-to-have-a-moron-hanging-from-my-neck life.

Unfortunately for me, some people at the Asylum do not have enough work to do so the next "" logical "" step is to assign one of these bladdernuts to me. As my assistant.

Who was the lucky dingbat to have the honor of working with me? Scarecrow the X-ray tech. I freaked out of course because, besides thinking she knows everything about fake cheese, she is also an idiot. I reached out to the one person who I knew would sympathize, my former (AWESOME) assistant, BD. At first he was a pain in the ass because we obviously speak in different generations. My generation is smarter, stronger, nicer. His is mean, vindictive and whiney. But then he came through as he always did when he worked alongside me at the nuthouse.

This conversation took place via texts:

Bee: Dude! They want to assign Scarecrow to be my part-time assistant!!!

BD: ?????

Bee: What’s with the”?”? Did u not hear me or are u as shocked as i am?

BD: I am fucking shocked!! WTF r they thinking?

Bee: I dunno but I’m having a h-attack just thinking bout it!

BD: H-attack?

Bee: HEART attack! jeez louise u’re young dontcha know the lingo?

BD: Young people dont worry about “H-ATTACKS” we also dont say “jeez louise” or “lingo”

Bee: Don’t change the subject. What am I gonna do??

BD: Shes got bad knees just pus her.

Bee: WTF? ‘pus’ hahahahaha!! and also eww!

BD: Old people shouldnt be texting

Bee: Young people should respect their elders

BD: pfft! I like pushing them into traffic

Bee: I will save that text for when you become a slimy politician

BD: Senator I have no idea who this “bee” is

-5 hours later because I got busy working so I didn’t respond-

BD: Well?

Bee: ‘well’ what?

BD: Whats going on with the asst thing

Bee: Nothing yet. She just went around saying ‘I’m gonna be BD’

BD: Bitch

Bee: Yep with a capital STUPIDASS!

BD: She doesnt have the looks to be me

Bee: I dunno, u both look like muppets

BD: Old people start smelling funny at 37

Bee: Why are you sniffing old people? New fetish?

BD: THAT WAS DISGUSTING!

Bee: U started

BD: I was thinking about it and you should use this argument:

-A BUNCH OF MINUTES GO BY-

BD: “Her prior indiscretions demonstrate she may be prone to relay personal info at inopportune times thereby violating PHI/HIPAA making her a liability”

Bee: ::blink blink:: great idea!

BD: Thatll be $300

Bee: You learned that shit from ME for FREE fool!

BD: 300 bucks will keep me on retainer for the rest of ur life or until u turn 50

Bee: Why 50?

BD: Dont u have some psycho hit on urself?

Bee: Thanks. Now my nightmares will return

BD: I will even represent Andy in the wrongful death suit

Bee: Knowing it’s gonna happen, doesn't that make everybody accessories?

BD: As my own council, i am ending this conversation

Bee: I win! Get used to hearing that.

BD: When did you become so cruel?

Bee: That’s what old age does to a person- look at Jerry Lewis

BD: Is that the guy from the grateful dead?

Bee: No that’s Jerry Garcia he’s dead but that was more due to drugs than age. Lewis was the original nutty professor now he’s a cranky old dude.

BD: Thanks for the useless trivia- ROLLS EYES

Bee: Dont u need to shine ur snakeskin boots and go sing karaoke, country style?

BD: Thats tomorrow. Let me know how it goes with OZ. Otherwise plan b

Bee: Later!

BD: Arent u gonna ask what plan b is?

Bee: What is it?

BD: u re-hire the asst from last year.

Bee: I hate you.

BD: LMFAO theres some “lingo” for you

 

Don't tell that big headed fool that his advice actually worked. I'd never hear the end of it!

Brian’s fear of spiders is justified plus stuffing my drawers.

So, did you miss me? Maybe you didn’t even notice I was gone? Niiiice thanks a lot people!

Anyway, more on my vacation later.

Andy holding Big Willy formerly known as The Sears Tower:

Today I’d like to say that I am now on the “Spiders-are-evil-emissaries-of-death!” bandwagon.

My Long Lost Friend and I were enjoying a nice little bonfire on Sunday night. There was a nice breeze, it wasn't too cold or too warm, the memories were flowing- minus the booze...

When the fire started dying down, I got up and went to get some homemade firewood (homemade firewood is wood you grow yourself and then mother nature comes along and decides to rip your wood plants in half) that we had stacked near our fence. It was dark, I couldn’t see very well so I blindly sifted through the wood pile looking for some nice thick pieces.

In that small amount of time, I was apparently being scaled like Mount Everest by ninja spiders because I have about 7 large spider bites on my legs, toes and feet.

Since things in my life can’t ever be of the normal variety, these spider bites are currently bubbling up and a resembling the alps.I get hotter and hotter every day.

I really wish I was exaggerating.

For all you know, these paragraphs may be the last thing I write before foaming at the mouth and going into seizures that will have me biting off my head, or worse, buying a jumpsuit.

It’s funny because, after all the gardening I’ve done over the years, I have never been attacked by the spider militia. Mosquitos, bees, squirrels, angry parents, those I'm used to but not spiders.

Then I went on Bad Spider Bites and talk about scaring the ever lovin crap out of myself! ::shiver!::

Okay I'm going to change the subject now.

I returned to the Asylum today and everybody seemed super happy to see me. That was such a weird feeling. Kind of a cross between drinking warm cider and vinegar. Anyway, later in the day, I got a little hungry. I opened my drawer to pull out the bag of Cheetos I keep in case of emergencies imagine my surprise when it wasn't there.

I asked around but nobody admitted to ransacking my snack drawer. I went to Glynda and asked her too, just in case. Her response "Let me ask OZ. He sometimes snoops in people's drawers" she came back later with $2.

OZ ATE MY CHEETOS!

What kind of mean MOFO does that? Seriously! I can't leave for 2 days without people taking my stuff. I'm gonna load my drawers with tampons and douches... not that I have a problem, okay? I'm just thinking that'll keep him outta my drawers.

Well that's about it- OH YEAH! For those of you who follow So You Think You Can Dance, if freakin Kayla/Shayla/Layla whatever the hell her name is doesn't get booted off this week I am going to have a fit! She should have been gone last week but nobody can seem to see her clumsy flopping around the floor when she does her solos. I need to hurry up and finish my mind control machine.

A dirty hole is nothing to be ashamed of.

I know I promised reruns but I had a quickie (not to brag or nuthin’) so I had to come over and share. I’m not really here. At this moment I'm probably sitting in a corner wondering where two curtain panels disappeared to. I blame the laundromat people because that is when I last saw them. Bastards.

I bought a shelving unit over the weekend (MADE IN THE USA baby!) to organize all the miscellaneous items in my life that I need to keep because I know I will use them at some point during my lifetime and because now that we shop at Costco, we have massive amounts of detergent, paper towels and enough toilet paper to survive The 40 Year Poop War I’m predicting.

Anyway, I got mad at Andy because he yelled at me for asking him to help me get it into the house. He said “Why do you need MY help if YOU yourself got it into the shopping cart and then into the car?? If you could do that, why wouldn’t you go that extra mile and get it in the house by yourself??” okay, so he didn’t say that exactly but I can read between the lines!

I had interrupted an important rescue-mission/battle/nut-gathering thing, you see and we all know this is likened to an act of treason! I calmly asked him why he couldn’t just tell me he’d get it after he conquered a new world instead of being an unreasonable butthead. He argues that I always want everything NOW NOW NOW! He said it in a manner that implied that was a bad thing.

Of course now I was angry so I decided to build the Shelving Unit of Discord myself. Who needs a man? Not this semi intelligent semi fashionable semi hungry chick! I have my own tools! (I bought them on sale because they came in a cute little black and red case.) (I got a set for my mom too.)

I was disappointed to learn I only needed a hammer.

I struggled with the damn Shelving Unit of Discord for 3 hours. At one point Andy came out of the dungeon, he must have left someone he trusted in charge of the safety of the galaxy, and he brought me a long screw driver so that I may “clean up the holes because it’ll be easier”. I don’t know if you know this about me but when I’m pissed I’m poisonous. I told him to go away before I cleaned up his hole and he said something about my mouth hole and went back to the important task of saving the Earth or you know, its ugly brother, Fantasy-troll-land.

Back to me.

I swore, I sweated, I sliced my delicate hands with the sharp edges so I swore some more but louder and with more feeling so that the neighbors would know without a doubt how much my soul was suffering. In the end I was proud at what I had accomplished. I had a nice, sturdy, shelving unit that could hold the weight of 4 miniature ponies juggling bowling balls.

I liked it so much I wanted another one. Trying to exit the doghouse, Andy offered to pick one up on his way home from work. He had it put together in 10 minutes TEN MINUTES!! He didn’t gloat though because he was happy to be back on my good side and he also knew I wouldn’t share the dinner my poor, sliced up hands made (pasta shells in Alfredo sauce with broccoli and lemon pepper chicken) if he so much as uttered a single little ‘I told you so’.

(can also be converted into 2 separate 2 shelf units which is what I did)

Now you’re probably thinking that Andy is a master craftsman and I should have left the building of things to a MAN but I’d have to hit you over the head with a led pipe and disagree. You see, when I moved MY shelving unit, I did so easily without having pieces fall apart in my sliced up little hands. Andy’s, however, came apart easily because you could only lift it, awkwardly may I add, from the bars holding the shelves and not the shelves themselves.

The difference? My shelves were forced into their slot holes by a woman determined to fit a half inch bracket into a ¼ inch hole but Andy “cleaned up the holes” so the shelves were all loose and wiggly (loose and wiggly- your nickname in High School?).

Woman 1,452,151 Man -7,487,778

(don’t do the math, Brian)(I typed in ‘don’t do the mEth, Brian’ but the top half of my eagle eye caught the error but I still think it’s good advice. Do not do the math OR the meth, Brian!)

The moral of the story?

Sometimes it’s okay to have a dirty hole.

P.S.

Brother Dan finally posted and he says he did so to take up my slack which I thought was nice of him and then I remembered he owed because he hates my dogs. He knows what I mean.

Passive aggressiveness is the new assh*le.

I don’t know what it is about people lately but they are acting like insulted housewives! Oops. Was that not PC?

You know how some wives, I know not all of them so save the hate mail, will be mad at their husbands but they don’t tell them why so they resort to the “if you don’t know why I’m upset, I’m not telling you!”? I’ve never understood this behavior since I pretty much always tell Andy exactly why I’m pissed off. I let him know in great detail which of his actions have infuriated me. I even make a little graph so that there are absolutely no misunderstandings. I don’t walk around the house sulking and waiting for him to get a clue.

Anyway, this isn’t about Andy THIS TIME.

I’m getting my fill this week with people making it known they’re mad at me but not having the balls to tell me why. Did I not ask you if you needed to go to the bathroom enough times? Did I say good morning too sharply? Did I insult you when I asked you to double check something because you’ve been known to fuck up on more than one occasion? Was it the fact that I did not want to answer anymore questions on the bracelet you found that must have been sitting in the storage area since 1978 making it impossible to be mine because at that time I was 6 and my mom wouldn’t let me cross the street by myself much less come to a different state, sneak into a medical building and unlock a storage space with my pinkie nails. Yes I know the writing on the bracelet is in “”MEXICAN”” and I don't know if those dried flowers inside are indigenous to Mexico because honestly, I’m pretty sure there are more than one of us who roam the earth.

Let me tell you something, and by ‘you’ I don’t mean YOU, unless you’re pissing me off too, it’s not ME it’s YOU. Can you please shut the fuck up and/or kiss my ass? Thanks.

Phew! That felt great! I’m still trying to figure out the right combination of meds that will keep my head from exploding but this rant did wonders!

Oh and P.S.
Don’t feel bad for Andy because he has a crazy wife. I tell him everyday how lucky he is not to have a high maintenance wife. He is 98% free to do whatever he wants whenever he wants without having to ask my permission. Ever.

The other 2% he spends by taking me to a movie every once in a while.*

How's that for passive aggressive?

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.

First the mail makes me giggle then it kicks me in the nuts!

So I was going through my mail and found a catalog I've never gotten before. The clothes were more for women in their late teens early twenties but I was browsing through it anyway when I came across this gem:

I just want to ask why? They're called harem pants but maybe a better name would be "chastity pants". They remind me of something but I can't quite put my finger on it...

Okay, so after I had my giggle, I found this piece of offending mail.

Ummmm, I have never lied about my age but I'm thinking that if I ever start, it will be to take some years off instead of adding them. And also, when (I hope) I turn 40, I will be acting the same way I do now which is basically ageless with a hint of immature. Bastards.

Just to clarify.

Andy’s awesome gift of tweeze came a couple of weeks after the gruesome one hair discovery. We had the idea for the comic ready but he then became too busy to draw it until this week. When the piece of metal lodged in his eye, I already had them which is why I was stunned when he asked if they were rubber tipped. I wanted to respond “did you buy rubber tipped tweezers? um no!” but I figured it would only make Captain Unreasonable angrier.

To answer Brian’s question about my computer cart, it is still alive and kicking and it has not been broken in a fit of rage which is what I think he assumes happened to it. The Christmas after Andy gave me my laptop, my MIL gave me a lap thingie for when I wanted to sit on the sofa and type maniacally (try it, it’s fun) while watching TV.

In other news.

I took myself off the Mirapex. I was so fucked up on Saturday that my guard was down and therefore Andy scored about 20 zingers to my 1.5 (.5 because I started strong on one and then fizzled at the end).

That sucked.

I had to resort to such classics as "oh yeah? well you're a chicken fajita head!" Lame.

Larissa said she takes it and is okey dokey but I wish I would have hired a camera crew to follow me around on Saturday because I was like a female Ozzy Osbourne stumbling and stammering about the place and arguing with light poles (I won every argument in case you're wondering)(no headbutts involved). I finally had 3 cups of coffee which seemed to snap my brain back to its rightful place and end Andy’s reign of zingers but I can never take back his victory dance.

Well, that's about all for today.

Oh yeah, somebody tell Erik Estrada to shut the hell up!

Mondays and I are like 2 pigeons having a pissing contest.

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"I think I've lost my penis"

As some of you may know, I'm a huge fan of Man vs Wild with Bear Grylls. Well, I watch it because I love to mock the host's obsession with drinking his urine and eating squirrels (I hate squirrels) I was watching it this evening and I haven't laughed so hard since... the last time I laughed so hard (I'm probably just easily amused). If you have a chance to watch it you must do so!

Also, I've invented a new fad diet. Bear Grylls said that in extreme cold, like the arctic, you lose up to 6,000 calories a day. Twice as many as normal. So, who wants to come with me to Antarctica or Siberia? I figure it'll take me about 3 months to lose the weight I want to lose. Okay maybe 6 months. And that's if I lose a whole leg.

And now, a snippet from "Confessions of a Pseudo Receptionist"

Bee (answering the phone):

Good morning, Arkham Asylum.

Old lady:

I WANT TO TALK TO THE DOCTOR!!

Bee:

The doctor isn't in yet, may I take a message--

Old lady:

I SAID!! I WANT TO TALK TO THE DOCTOR!!!!

Bee:

M'am? He is not in yet. Let me take a message--

Old lady (yelling at someone else):

SHE WON'T LET ME TALK TO THE DOCTOR!! I WANT TO TALK TO THE DOCTOR! NOW!

Bee:

If you don't stop yelling, I will hang up on you. He is not in. He comes in at 11 and it is only 9.

Old lady:

WHEN DR. NEVERHEARDOFHIM CALLS ME BACK I AM GOING TO REPORT YOU!

Bee:

That doctor is not in our practice. Do you have the right doctor's office?

Old lady:

OF COURSE I DO! I'M OLD NOT STUPID!

Bee:

That's your opinion.

Old lady:

WHAT??

Bee:

I SAID HE'S NOT IN!

Old lady:

THIS WOMAN DOESN'T KNOW WHAT SHE'S DOING! [CLICK!]

She had the wrong doctor's office but I'm the dumb one. Multiply that shit times 20. I like my job and hate filling in for the receptionist. In my position I can argue, yell and fight with anybody who dares piss me off. As the receptionist, I have to pretend I like people.

Just dusting off the cobwebs and forcefully moving the squatter who was sitting on my blog.

So that was weird. I think this is the longest I’ve been away from the old blog… kind of pathetic really since that might mean I don’t have a life. And if I don’t have a life, what the hell am I always going on about? I have no idea either.

Thanks for the well wishes (and offers to assist me in my pursuit of vengeance). My brother is better and has regained his usual smart-ass-ness. He still doesn’t remember anything which I guess might be a blessing.

Saturday he was debating if he should walk the block to Dunkin Donuts/Baskin Robins to get an ice cream cone. I told him to give me a minute while I suited up in my protective armor and went with him as his bodyguard. He laughed because he has the same twisted sense of humor I do. But I was serious.

While waiting for some dryers to open up at the Laundromat Monday night, Andy asked me if I was going to do a post. I told him I couldn’t find humor in anything at the moment. He thought for a second and then said:

“Maybe you’re blocked” (ewww)

Uh no. I could sit down right now and type up 20 stories but they would all be scornful, hateful observations and I don’t feel like going down that road.

Take for example the Polish guy at the Laundromat who decided to take up every fucking dryer and only put 4 items of clothing in each one while Andy and I had to wait with our clothes in a cart. Instead of me coming up with an amusing name for him, all I could come up with was ball-sack sucking sheep fucker. In my head, the scenario I had for his retribution was me gutting him and then putting his organs in one of his dryers.

Since I’d rather not put such negative thoughts into the pureness of the webisphere, I was refraining from posting.

However!

This morning I saw a guy come out of his car wearing a business suit and an Indiana Jones hat. How could you not find the humor in a dude trying to bring back the Indy hat?

So I decided to put pen to paper, so to speak, and try to find the funny in the weekend happenings. I must warn you, I'm a little rusty.

I started my gardening on Saturday. Why didn’t anybody tell me about hoes? I bought one and am now in love! That thing is the shiznit! I loosened up the soil in minutes instead of hours (it used to take me hours because I used a HAND trowel)(for those of you non-gardeners, that’s a step up from a spoon).

While doing my gardening, I was listening to my neighbor Wilson’s grandkids. There is one in particular who seems a tad on the odd side. While the other little boys are jumping from their tree house and burning insects, this one was singing such classics as “Here comes the bride” and “That’s the way, uhhuh uhhuh, I like it” which, what the hell kind of combination is that? Nobody picks on him though because that little dude looks like he’ll eat you whole and then poop out your shoes without breaking a sweat.

The hoeing around calmed my nerves down even though my body was baptized for the season by its first bug bite. Did it have to be on my butt? Bastards.

When I told Milton about the bite she said it might me chiggers and I was like ‘Uh can you de-countrify that for me?’ She patiently explained that there are these teeny tiny little bugs that are in grass and like to bite people. So there you have it ladies and gents, I’m infested with chiggers and they are feeding off my flesh and blood to make bigger fatter mutant bugs. Coming to a town near you.

On Sunday we had to pick up the work truck Andy will be using while his car is getting liposuction. Weekend driving and I do not get along which is why I married Andy. I was all complainy the whole way there and my bitching got worse once we noticed the road we needed to take was closed off so we had to take a detour.

That was fine while Andy was still driving but I know only 4 streets out here in the burbs so I would have to follow him closely on the way back otherwise I'd end up in Wisconsin. No offense to Wisconsin.

The drive back home was eventful. I'd forgotten my cellphone (eeek!) so Andy and I could not communicate. I noticed he was sticking his arm out of the window and making the "L" shape with his finger and thumb. I thought, make a left? He waved frantically 'no' was he calling me a loser? I'd totally ram the back of the van RIGHT NOW! Impatient with my lack of understanding, he pulled over, I pulled over, he jumps out of the car, I roll down my window he yells, "Turn your lights on! Cheesus!" You do a guy a favor...

We also found out why the road was closed and littered with cops. There were Na≠i (I don’t need more hate mongers on my blog so the “z” will be “≠”) demonstrators picketing the new opening of a Holocaust Museum with their Na≠i flags and propaganda. I later yelled at Andy for making me drive through those fashion victims (come on guys, black fatigues, black jackets, black combat boots and no hair? How about some kicky pink head scarves? Add some color!) because they would have let him go with no problems once he flashed his blue eyes. I, on the other hand, would have been taken to use as a sacrifice to their backwards-god and hello? With all the extra fat I’m carrying, I’d burn easy.

I was going to post a picture as proof because Andy took a picture for me but he's not answering my calls. I could go over to the dungeon and ask him for it but that would involve me moving something other than my fingers. Meh. I decided to make my own.

I managed to drive by undetected.

Well, that's about all I guess.