Those Hobos know all the tricks!

I was driving to the store today, freezing my buttuckcus because the heater was taking its sweet time to blow hot air, and I was wearing my brand new mittens-slash-hobo gloves.

(don't mind my fingers, they've been infected with old age)

I was thinking about how cute they were but also how practical because I didn't have to take them off to work my iPhone or look for my keys (because I look for them by touch) or to scratch my ear because all I had to do was flip the top of them down.

As I was headed towards the store, in search of the perfect birthday card for a wacky friend of mine who will have double the wrinkles next week when he turns THE BIG FOUR-OH, I was also remembering that my pop's birthday was next week too and I was trying to remember how old he was. At that time I had the top of the gloves up like so:

and my hands were on the steering wheel. Since I can never remember how old my pop is, I always think of my age, add 20 years to figure out how old my mom is then go up one because her birthday is in May and then add five years because he's older than my mom. It's a complicated formula I know.

So there I was, trying to add 58 + 5, and knowing how impossible it would be to add those numbers in my head, (pathetic, you say? Screw you, I reply. I just cannot do math in my head.) I visualized the 58 in my head and counted off the next 5 digits on my fingers. Only I couldn't see my fingers because they were hidden in my mittens!

They were hidden! In my mittens! (okay, I don't know why but that just cracked me up) (and yes, I am my number ONE FAN!)

THEY WERE HIDDEN! IN MY MITTENS! HAHAHAHA Still funny.

Anyway, uh I lost my train of thought. Oh right! I looked at my hand and tried to see which finger was 59 and which one was 60 and then I kind of just drifted off and forgot why I was looking at my mitten bending all weird. Then I remembered and tried again but I kept getting stuck at 60! Then the car behind me honked so I had to move on because the light was green and that's when the flashlight went off and I lowered the top part of the mitten and resumed my counting!

Yeah! Another reason those things are awesome! They still let me do simple math!

I guess regular gloves would work for simple math too but they're not useful if you want to stick your hand in the bag of Boston Baked Beans you just bought and put them in your mouth. Well, I guess you can but then your gloves will get soggy.

And that is my *Hobo gloves are awesome* story.

P.S.

Andy just proofread this post and asked if I had spiked my strawberry lemonade then he told me I meant "light bulb" and not "flashlight" because when an idea pops up they show a light bulb. I guess he's right. ::shrug::

Did I mention I haven't been sleeping well?

Randumbness

So... while kids were out looking for treats this Halloween, I was finding my own treats hidden in my pots.

The squirrels are going to be so pissed when they go digging for their winter snacks and oops! All gone!

What? You gonna cry for the squirrels now?

There is no mercy in this DOJO!

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I had a doctor's appointment early on Saturday. For those of you keeping score, that's like the 100th appointment this year. She's still trying to iron out my kinks. I think it took Dr. Frankenstein less time to create his monster. Anyway, she was checking this and that when she asked me how I cleaned my ears. The question shouldn't have shocked me I guess but it did. I am very meticulous about my pre-check-up preparations so I thought maybe she wanted to get some tips from me?

Me: Well, I take the Q-tip and put it in my ear... I only use Q-Tip brand Q-tips though because the other ones are too flimsy-

Doc: No! Don't use Q-Tips. All they do is push the wax in deeper. You need to use drops!

Me: What are you saying?? [puts hands over ears]

Doc: Don't worry. I see this all he time. I'll write down the name of the drops for you-

And then she was distracted by a wailing kid who just had its ears pierced so she didn't write the name down for me. No, my doctor doesn't practice out of a Claire's.

I've been alive for almost 37 years and I've just learned I've been cleaning my ears wrong! If anybody knows what kind of drops I'm supposed to be using please let me know. I can barely hear over here!

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I dyed my hair today. I went with Black but not because I'm having an identity crisis and am going for the goth look. I just like black hair. Unfortunately, the dye left what looks like a 5 o'clock shadow on both sides of my face giving me the appearance of sideburns. I'm gonna have to own them so that I don't look like an ass when I go in to work tomorrow.

 

"Thank you! Thank you verrry much!"

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I'd like to thank everybody who entered to win Mercury Falls. I was unable to read the book yet therefore have not sent Diesel aka Robert Kroese my interview questions so I'll hopefully announce the winner on Friday at the bottom of my interview. Way at the bottom. This will force you to read the whole interview and not just pop in, see if you won or not and then go have pizza.

Do you remember when you were a little kid and you promised yourself that when you grew up you'd eat candy all the time because you wouldn't have a mean old parent telling you not to?? Well! My tummy is all achey now from all the left over candy. Now I'm sad and wish I could beat up 11 year old stupid me.

The end.

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.

General Wonderings + No Comic Sunday.

So, no comic today since Andy was busy doing Andy things. Something about picking up dog poop, mowing lawns and wishing on stars. Instead you guys are stuck with me and my well erm musings.

My mom left for Mexico on Thursday. As usual she left us to fend for ourselves. I guess it's no surprise to anyone that we suck at it. Andy wanted milk but we have no drinkable milk. He noticed that the one in our fridge was a expired but he didn't throw it out. I'm wondering why.

To those of you who doubt my Milton stories and think she may be a figment of my imagination, I have proof of her obsessive compulsiveness. That container on the floor next to the garbage can is a cake container she fished out of the dumpster. The dumpster that is outside of the building. In the parking lot!

Milton, saving the Earth one bacteria infested container at a time.

 

Found this event in the newspaper:

Anyone up for a Cornhole tournament?

 

I saw this truck when we were at the bank. I have no idea why there's a need for that pile of sand(?).  Is it holding the lid of that thingamajig down? Wouldn't it scatter in the wind once the dude went faster than 20 mph? It just looks like a giant took a dump.

 

Tazz on his way to the groomer. He was high, because he needs to be tranqd so he doesn't make snacks of people's limbs, so he kept shaking his head all psychotic-like. He still hasn't come out of his daze.

 

My sister, Natalia and I went out for a girl's night out of sundaes and bookstores and this was what the sky looked like at 9pm. It looked awesome! And now you're jealous because my sky is cooler than your sky.

 

Andy just told me people tell him he looks like Ethan Hawke. I haven't decided how I feel about that.

On the one hand:

On the other hand:

... There was supposed to be a good looking picture of Ethan Hawke here but I couldn't find one...

And now I leave you with a picture of the perfect pizza:

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.

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!

The mysterious case of Michael Bublé (or as I like to call him Mr. Facial Expression Exaggerator Sinatra Wannabe)

So, like all good citizens of the world, I have an iPod. It was given to me by the generous and talented man I live with on one of my many birthdays. It is the iPod Nano with only about 1 or 2 gigglebiggles so it only holds about one thousand songs.

Unfortunately, fortunately for all musicians who take my money, my love of all kinds of music makes the selection of only 1,000 songs near impossible. I have to Sophie’s Choice my playlist “On a scale of 1-10, how much do I really like ‘Pump up the jam’?” (The answer: a hell of a lot more than is healthy!)

So imagine my surprise when I came across a whole Michael Bubblebutt album! Not one or maybe 2 songs that may have forcefully snuck in by knocking out my anti-overly-smooth-crooners safeguard. A whole album consisting of 13 songs! Thirteen Jerry!

 

So I went to the only other person who lives in my house and has access to my computer.

Bee:
Andy, did you upload Michael Bubblenut into my iPod.

Andy:
Michael who?

-Lengthy explanation followed-

Andy:
Come on! You have to remember buying that CD?

Bee:
uhhhh no. I would never buy that phony-baloney's CD! How dare you imply—

Andy:
I bet if you look around the house you will find that CD.

So I looked around the house and found the CD. That doesn’t really prove anything because I have many enemies willing to plant crazy shit in my house just so they could accuse me of having no taste in music. (and then while they’re here, they hide my left shoes)

I mean why? Why would I buy that CD? I’m pretty sure nobody gave it to me because I would have given it back inside a bag of dog poop.

I guess this is one of those Life’s Mysteries I’m always hearing about.

In other news.

I was at the office and decided to get some more coffee. As I was making my way to the kitchen, I noticed an elderly woman in a wheelchair sitting in an exam room waiting to be seen. She kept staring at me and her eyes were growing wider and wider the closer I got. When I was near her, she grabbed on to her companion (son maybe?) and screeched (yup, loud enough for all nearby eyes to be on me) “She’s a gypsy! She’s a gypsy! Never trust a gypsy!”

That’s nice. Old people (and babies) instinctively fear me. I think I'm going to put that on my resume.

Being a Mexican American PPVO (Post Pig Virus Outbreak).

I tell ya’ guys, I’m afraid to get sick. Not because I think my lungs will fill up with mucus and I’ll die face down in my sleep. No, that doesn't keep me up at night but if I walk in with a hoarse voice (HOARSE not WHORE'S) the ladies are on my case about going to the doctor to get myself checked.

I have to tell them that they are the only people I’ve come in contact with and it’s not like there’s a gene we, the Aztec people, carry in our DNA! It’s a fucking flu.

I don’t know if they seriously think that if I get a run of the mill cold, it will mutate into the dreaded porky germs or what but they are working the reserve of nerves I keep for emergency situations. Like, for example, the time Andy came home late for lunch when he knew we were hosting his parents and we’d only been living together a couple of months and instead he went for lunch and drinks with his buddy (we will call him Peter) Peter after their field trip to some museum of electricity during his apprentice years, and then lied to me about where he had been and I didn’t find out until our first year anniversary when he accidentally goofed by knowing his way around a restaurant we’ve supposedly never been to (damn you cheesecake factory!) and I was so mad I nearly speared him with the little sword from my Piña Colada. I know you think it wouldn’t have been too painful for him because those things are tiny and plastic but believe me, the surgeons would have needed sedatives for themselves to assist in the removal of said sword from his left testicle. --- Okay, I guess I’m still mad about it. But now you know why I need that extra reserve of nerves. My Andy uses them up like they were Kleenexes.

Speaking of stuff to wipe yourselves with. We went to Costco, post blueberry muffin catastrophe SO WE DID NOT BUY MORE MUFFINS, and you know how they have stations of samples they give out? I am against sampling stuff because I don’t know what’s flying around Costco. Maybe somebody’s kid has the dreaded Feline Flu that will kill us all I don’t know but anyway there was a lady giving samples of, get this, TOILET PAPER!

Andy and I walked by, did a double take and I said “I’m gonna go over there and take a sample then tell her I’ll come back to let her know how it was.” he stopped me because he always ruins my fun. Also, she was only giving out 2 squares and it may be enough for Sheryl Crow but I need a little bit more to ensure freshness.

A couple of weeks ago, when I went with my sister, some lady bitched because my sister stopped in the middle of the aisle. The lady asked the girl she was with “why do people have to stop in the middle of the aisle??” (apparently the little girl must be some sort of mind reader?) I turned around and gave her a nasty look since my sister had stopped because other people were blocking the aisle she was trying to turn into. I guess she could have run them over but then there would be an accident report to fill out and I’m not sure auto insurance covers shopping carts.

Later, while looking for my Advil, I bumped into the lady again. To be mean, I started following her, at a safe distance where it could seem like I was shopping and it was just a coincidence, she kept looking back at me and then she started sprinting down the aisles while I calmly followed each turn she made. At the end of one of the aisles, she was blocked by a lady who was just standing there with her cart. The stalkee says “Excuse me!” and the stander says “go around me!” and then I laughed and let her get away. My sister said I was insane but she was the one to cause the lady’s wrath so she’s not an innocent party in this story.

Karma being the bitch that she is, when I went back to Costco today (I'm the KM at work this week so I went to get a veggie tray and some chocolate muffins), the dude that was ringing me up took my Costco membership card, looked at my picture then looked at me then looked at my picture then looked at me until I finally had to say "yeah, it's me" because my picture is that bad! It's a cross between a teletubby and an albino cricket. I know, frightening!

Uh, anyway, I got distracted. What I was trying to say is that my throat hurts (but this will not keep me from singing at the top of my lungs m'kay) and I’ve been sneezing (okay I just sneezed mid bite into my muffin and a small piece went through my windpipe OUCHY!) and coughing a lot. But don’t worry. No need to come over here wearing a hazmat suit. I was out all weekend without a sweater because I mistook the sun being out to mean it was also warm but it was definitely too cold to be so bold.

If the bats so much as hint at me being infected, I will give them a close up of my left foot followed rapidly by my right.

I'm taking a mini vacation to do fun things like helping my mom move back downstairs (Yay!) dusting, re-organizing my life and LAUNDRY so I won't be around this weekend. Yeah, I know it makes you sad and you're probably wondering what you'll do without me until Tuesday. Don't worry, you'll be okay. Maybe.

 

Have a safe Memorial Day and in Brian's case, a safe Bank Holiday!

My house has windows. My car has windows. My office has windows. My bologna has a first name...

My friend Brian, I’m sure you guys have seen him around, did a post the other day talking about how much he hates Windows and how Linux is way better because it brings you ice cream and what not. 

One of his comments was that, using Linux, if you wanted to delete your files you only had to command it once. He said Microsoft is suggesting we’re dummies because it does such things as ask you once, twice and sometimes three times (the lady) if you’re absolutely positively SURE you want to go ahead and delete ALL the pictures in your gallery even the ones that you do not have copies of?

I thought about this as I was working on Monday because the system I use at work does ask you repeatedly “if you’re sure” of your next move. That’s when I realized Microsoft knows what it’s doing.

I’ll stand back while the BOOs die down.

Look, I’m a reasonably intelligent person. I can’t compete with a lot of the brainiacs out there (BRIAN) because I’m self taught. I didn’t touch a computer (outside of limited access in school) until I was about 26/27.

At my first office job, the guy who trained me was a stickler for protocol. This is how they taught him and these were the only things I was allowed to do on this computer.Once he left and moved to OCDland, my somewhat logical mind questioned certain commands I clicked on a menu here and there to see where they would take me and once I found out I couldn’t blow up the computer or the toaster, I became a little more daring. On my own, I found short cuts in systems I’ve worked in and also learned how to reset things, remove things and generally make my work life easier.

However!

I am thankful that I have always had the option of saying ‘no’ to such things as “You just asked me to erase the back up, would you like to proceed?” because my very first office job might have been my last.

I love operating with a safety net.  I’m too impulsive and sometimes, always really, I don’t read the next set of instructions because I’m arrogant and think I know everything but when the pop up window then asks “Are you sure you want to broadcast your SS# to the interworldwideweb, you dumbass? Because that’s what you just asked me to do!” I can then breathe a sigh of relief that somebody, anybody is out there saving me from myself.

While I may not be the reason they add warnings like “do not put plastic bag over your head and dance around until the oxygen leaves your brain” I do sometimes need someone to second guess me. Well, not in real life because everybody knows how I feel about opinions. I just mean in computerland.

I have also been thankful for those extra few steps when training new employees. Can you imagine what would have happened with my assistant from hell if we didn’t have those safety locks? Here, let me type out a little play for you.

Asst.:
Bee said I should add this insurance to this account. Let’s see ‘do I want to add or delete account’ ummmmm delete I guess? Okay now that the account is gone, where do I add the insurance?  Maybe I have to add it here where it says “do not edit” okay, I’m in the screen editing away. Goodbye Coke formula, goodbye. Wow this is really easy.

It doesn’t always work though as we may remember from the July incident where this dumbass I called my assistant proceeded to erase a whole day’s worth of work even though I am 100% sure excel did ask her if she wanted to save changes before closing the document and SHE SAID NO.

I believe people’s brains are built differently. I can understand people liking Beyonce even thought I think she is an overrated schreechball to each their own. I just don’t think there’s a right or wrong to what one considers more user friendly. Can't we all just get along?

Linux works for Brian because his intelligence is above average and he seems to be an extremely detailed human being. Windows works for me because I generally don’t know what I’m doing and I’m just winging it. Plus, I wouldn’t know what to do if I accidentally erased my pictures when I pounded on my keyboard one too many times. Windows works for Andy because he can’t operate his iPhone. Windows works for my mother in law because she can call me and I can walk her through certain things she has questions about. Linux works for Brian because he is a poopy head.

So there, Brian!

My vacation attire would get me banned from all 5 star, 4 star, 3 star, 2 star resorts.

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When a day off attacks you at the end.

I didn't go to work today. The sister, my mom, nieces and I went to the land of IKEA where I dream about things I cannot pronounce. All was well, the kids behaved and we only had one disappointment in the form of the lack of cacti. I'm too tired to explain what that means but you just need to know it almost made me cry.

Anyway, since we arrived home sooner than expected, the husband, also known as Mr. Torturing Jerky Pants, decided we should go do laundry. I was exhausted but after many loving insults, I changed my mind.

We packed up our crap, got in the car and drove to our regular laundromat only to find it CLOSED and covered up in weird can't-see-in paper! Damn! But at the same time yay! Surely Andy would say we should go back home? Nope! Mr. Torturing Jerky Pants decided we should go to the one we used to go to before. The crappy-leaky-cold one with weird bugs? That one.

I cant wait until the laundry-room gets rehabbed! I hate having to lug around my clothes all over my town in the dead of freakin cold.

Speaking of rehab. Once we got home, we received  a call from the guy that's supposed to quote us how much it will be to install a sump pump system in our house so that we never ever ever get a single drop of water. He's a nice guy with a reputable company but they're all car sales men at heart. He started with "I'm going to show you one of the two things we could do for you. With this one we would have to break up your porch, your patio, flower beds, pull up your bushes and eat babies all for 50 billion dollars! Nobody EVER chooses that one but I have to tell you about it anyway."

See, he has to do that so when he quotes you an exorbitant amount, you say "well, at least it's not FIFTY BILLION DOLLARS!" he's a nice guy but hey what do we look like? A couple of new born mopes? Fucker.

And as if all that wasn't enough activity for one day, Andy finally caved to my "please buy me the Gazelle! pretty please? I love you long time?" so we went to buy it at our friendly neighborhood Kohl's because we had a coupon. I called them first to make sure they had one and the old lady was all "The WHAT, hon?" THE GAZELLE! "What does it do, hon?" You get on it and you swish like this and that with your arms and legs. WITH YOUR ARMS AND LEGS! "Oh. You just had to explain what it was for, hon. Let me check. ---- Yuppers! We have a bunch come on over!"

Now, now. Don't mock me because I bought into that Tony Ponytail's hype. I need to lose me these parasitic pounds... although, they've been keeping me warm this winter so I have that going for me.

LOOK AT THAT ASS!! THAT WILL BE MY ASS!! Only, less manly. Hopefully.

P.S.

When I was telling the lady how to use the machine I was physically demonstrating how to use the machine. Why? Why would I do that? It's not like she can see me.  I think that should count as my first work out.

Also, Andy doubts my balance and thinks I'll fall on my butt the first few times. I have a feeling he's going to push me off it just so he can say he was right.

I need Beyonce to SHUT THE F*CK UP!

Okay, I know everybody has different tastes in music and who am I to criticize since I still listen to PolyMarch. The difference is that I do so in the privacy of my own home, when nobody else is around... and the blinds are drawn. (and if you clicked and listened to it, you're probably thinking I'm less cool than I was yesterday)(but I'm still cooler than you) (well, maybe not)

Anyway, I can explain away Country music but Beyonce is working my last nerve! I'm twitching and shaking from sheer over-Beyonce-ness. She is on my radio station every hour on the hour, she is on my TV with her cheesy cable commercial and now she is in movie previews.

Look, I know she made it big with that Oh-Oh Oh-Oh booty dance thing but does every. single. song. after that have to be the same? Last year it was that song that declared the guy's belongings were "to the left- to the left- to the left" now it's "if you like it better put a ring on it- if you like it better put a ring on it- if you like it better put a ring on it". I'm sorry but that video is horrible! I thought it was a spoof.

Beyonce, do you know how many words are in the English language? There's about uh... 15,000 x 45,124,478 carry the carrot... well a lot. Granted, I don't know many of those words myself but I'm poor so I can't hire somebody to write stuff for me.

If you have nothing to say, stop repeating yourself because it makes you sound like you either have dementia or a speech impediment- you either have dementia or a speech impediment- you either have dementia or a speech impediment.

See how annoying that is?

Beyonce fans, I don't apologize because it needed to be said.

In other news,I see brother Dan finally put up his picture for "Bizarre/Weird WTF-was-I-thinking? Picture day". I wonder if we were better off, as a society, before he did.

Go check out the rest of the pictures if you haven't already.

P.S.

Brian, Beyonce is a singer. You may click here for more info. I wouldn't though.

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

hmmmmmmmmm

uhmmmmmmm

::sigh::

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

So, my questions are:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My second try was this.

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

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

But then I started thinking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

P.S.

Stop staring at my boob-chin!

Humor-Blogs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Also? This did NOT happen to me. Allegedly.

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

 

P.S.

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

P.P.S.

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

 

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Why I can't be left unsupervised.

So... Andy had to work on Saturday. He got up early, put Mocha the chunk on the bed, reminded me to go to the bank, kissed me good-bye and left.

I woke up at 9:00 a.m. STARVING, realized I would have to cook something so I went back to sleep instead. I woke up an hour later and said to self "Get your ass out of bed, go to the bank and then stop at Mickey Dee's for some breakfast and coffee" but I just couldn't make myself get out of bed so I watched some TV until the dogs started whining that they had to go outside or eat who knows really, they're always so damn needy.

I finally got around to going to the bank (it was 40 degrees but I walked out in flip flops, shorts and a t-shirt).

I hate going to the bank. The old ladies always give me a hard time about something and Saturday was no different. They were upset because I had signed my check with my *maiden* name and not the name of my husband. Seriously, that's what they said.

"This your maiden name! You need husband's name!"

I tried telling the little old Asian lady and the little old Polish lady that my name is hyphenated and I go by both but you know what? Sometimes it's just easier to pretend I belong to a man and sign it with my owner's name.

Since McDonald's is right across the street from the bank, I maneuvered my car through their drive thru (me and drive thrus do not get along! I can never get my car to contort itself in order to go through that fuckin maze! To add insult to injury, I always park too far from the windows!) but since it was too late for breakfast, because my lazy ass couldn't get out of bed before 11, I decide to just get a LARGE coffee. Here's where things get tricky.

Bee:

Large coffee please.

Ronald:

What kind of coffee?

Bee:

What? Large, regular I guess?

Ronald:

Would you like to try our new Mochas?

Bee:

Uh, okay. Large please.

Ronald:

Fat or Non-Fat?

Bee:

I don't believe in non-fat so... fat?

Ronald:

Anything else?

Bee: [When I'm in the passenger seat, I have the power to say "nothing else, thanks" but...]

A number 6, please.

I blame the fact that I was hungry on me ordering FOOD from McDonald's because I have a few rules I live by. No soda, fries, potato chips or candy before noon. AND! No McDonald's unless it's breakfast. Too many food poisoning incidents in the past.

When I pulled up to pay, I had the biggest shock of the day! My bill was $8.87- EIGHT DOLLARS AND EIGHTY-SEVEN CENTS! FOR FOOD. FOR ONE PERSON. AT MCDONALD'S!

If you're getting the impression that I'm cheap, I am when it comes to food. Especially crappy food because I only ate the fries and (drank) the coffee.

 

Oh well, only about 70 more days before my mom comes home.

Things I learned this weekend:

It's not shiving it's shanking.

Andy would rather watch Jack Frost [CREEPY!] than either of the two Godfathers because he doesn't like me quoting the movies for 3 days. "No! Then you go around saying 'mahnday tursday, it's business not personal, you broke my heart Fredo!, don't ask me about my business', not to mention using piano wire to try to kill me!"

Cher's character is 37 in Moonstruck but she looks AT LEAST 10 years older than I do.

I learned I can go almost the whole weekend without turning on my laptop and not have any type of seizures.

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Technorati Tags: weekend,me,andy,godfather

My "Andy the Electrician" trumps your "Joe the Plumber"!

Okay.

What the fuck??

Joe the plumber gets pulled over for going 15 miles over the speed limit and they let him go because he is JOE THE PLUMBER??

I typed "plumber" in google images and this came up. It did show her butt crack but since my blog is rated PG (WTF??) I decided to cover it up with a picture of Uranus. You're welcome.

I don't give a shit if you're Barney the purple dinosaur, if you get pulled over for speeding, you should get a ticket just like the rest of us!

When I got pulled over for going *cough20cough* miles over the speed limit, I didn't whip out the "I'm a Brown's Chicken worker and have access to tasty entrées and side dishes"!

I'm not saying I'm an angel and follow all the rules of the road (if you are a law enforcement officer in the state of Illinois, of course I follow all laws and rules! I'm just teasin', silly! We good, right? Would you like some tasty entrées or side dishes??) but if I get pulled over for breaking the law, I put on my big girl panties and take my lumps (uh, how about we leave this one alone and not make any overly suggestive remarks?). I personally don't think they should have let him go just because he's Joe the plumber.

If Andy ever gets pulled over (in the name of all good, evil and wishy-washy gray matter that can't make up its mind what side its on, may this never happen), I'm gonna tell him to pull the "But I'm Andy the Electrician!" if they don't let him go with a warning, so help me I'll raise the dead from all the screaming I'll be doing!

I encourage you all to do the same. If you get pulled over say "But I'm Brian the Mathematician!" or "But I'm jean knee the Fertile Queen!" or "But I'm Larissa the Musician Mommy!" or "But I'm Tracy the owner of Rambling Acres!"

If they don't let you guys go, give me a jingle and I'll come to your rescue.

***Disclaimer, only valid in the US since rules in the land of those who made us might be different. Also, Bee's Musings does not encourage you to break the law. Please drive with caution and on the defensive. But not like the Chicago Bear's defense because they suck.

P.S.
I love my new haircut. I really do. There is only one drawback. Or should I say six? Every single one of the bats had to touch my hair because I didn't straighten it, just left it curly to see how it looked (yup, my hair is naturally curly, I know you're jealous too but there's nothing I can do about your raging jealousy so let's not mention it again, okay?). They had to come over and touch it because it "looks so soft" HAVE WE NOT LEARNED ANYTHING FROM MY SPACE INVADERS POST???

P.P.S.
What do you guys think of me live blogging my birthday?? It's on Tuesday so I'll be at work but it might be interesting... maybe??

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Kids, mimes, clowns, pimples, paparazzi... THINGS THAT SCARE BEE!

Does anybody else hate being the designated candy giver? I don't know how you yourself are with Halloweeners but I personally can't fake the "oh, you look so cute!" which is the mandatory exclamation when kids come to your house trick or treating. Usually, it's my sister who "oohs and ahs" over the kids as she gives out the candy but this year, she had to prepare for a road trip to Texas so she was all "Sorry Bee. I have to pack and get the girls ready for a cross country trip so I won't be able to help you."

I know! How selfish of her!

So there I am, handing out candy to little people in costumes. I don't know who was more frightened, the kids because they were being subjected to a silent house frau or me who was confronted with that that I fear the most, children.

A few teenagers showed up at my house with their "costumes" consisting of black and white paint on their faces, regular clothes and pillow cases for their candy. That was fine and good until they tried to dig their hands into the candy bowl. I had to lay the smack down a few different times and tell them to mind their fookin manners! You don't go to another person's house and manhandle their candy dish! What is wrong with the teenagers of today? They have no respect for anybody.

Anyway, at about 8:45, I decided to close up shop and put a blanket over the window panels on my front door. If there were any teenage stragglers coming for treats, they wouldn't be able to see me laugh as I ate the last few Reese's peanut butter cups.


Saturday night, Andy dragged me to the grocery store. He said I couldn't be
left alone or I might just wind up locking myself in the bathroom again.
Usually, I stomp through the aisles and complain about how long it's taking but this time I needed 2 very important things that only I new how to buy (seriously). OXY (the pimple cream) for the stupid pimples that are now marking their territory on my face and lotion for the extra dry skin that comes with old age.

What does it say about me that I was ecstatic when I found out OXY was buy one get one free??
How pathetic is it that I "woohoo'd" in the middle of the anti-wrinkle/blemish aisle causing one lady to grab her cart and roll away from me?

Then!

My euphoria committed suicide when I saw my special anti-itch-extra-dry-skin-old-lady lotion was -------- wait for it -------- TWELVE DOLLARS!

Did they ground up baby seals and snow leopards into my lotion? I could probably feed a family of 6 (dogs) with $12. And have $2 leftover for ice cream (dogs can't eat ice cream so it would obviously be for me).

While we were waiting to pay, I saw this picture of Jennifer Aniston with the following caption:

"Jen looks pregnant. Is that why she got back together with John Mayer?"
And then they circled her tummy (because if they circled her leg, we would all
be confused).

<--They call that a pooch??


Maybe she'd just eaten a big burrito!

That's another reason why I can never become a movie star. The paparazzi would be all over me every month and I would have a perpetual circle around my stomach with captions like "When will she ever give birth?" "Is she expecting twins?" "How much for that doggy in the window?"

Men are lucky! When they're bloated, nobody assumes they'll be dropping a litter in a few weeks.

ΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘ

On a different kind of note.

I've noticed people have been de-linking me from their blogrolls. I don't know if it's because of my foul language or because I now have short hair and they're anti-short-hair-ites but it hurts, people. It cuts deep into places of my soul I only visit when I'm feeling holy. Watch me squeeze out a tear... okay...... here.... it.... comes.....

Alright, I'm just kidding. I understand how it would be impossible to keep up with the awesome that is me.

If somebody has me on their blogroll and I don't have you on mine, please leave your link in comments so that I may add it now. I'm going to be making two separate pages. One showcasing my many many many awards and another one with my lengthy blogroll kind of like how Marie from Memarie Lane has hers. With a little snippet as to why people should stalk your blogs.

P.S.
Not to sound too demanding but... if you're wondering what to get me for my birthday, I want a baby seal and a snow leopard. Andy won't get them for me. Something about dangerous blah blah but he's always been a killjoy.

P.P.S.
To those of you who asked why I had my cellphone in the bathroom with me when I took a shower, what if there's an emergency?? It's also my clock/alarm and it goes off every 10 minutes reminding me I have to go to work.

I carry my phone wherever I go.

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She hit the flo [She hit the flo] Next thing you know Shawty got low low low low low low low low...

Okay umm, where were we?? I don't remember so I'm just gonna talk about something else, okay?
.
O--kay!
.
Well, it's the end of our 3 day weekend (can I get a boohoo?) but in a way I have one more day off because OZ won't be back until Wednesday which means non-stop blogging! Can I get a Woohoo!!
.
I did a lot of gardening this weekend and some de-cluttering but in between I had some awesome TV time. Andy talked me into going to see Tropic Thunder (why do I keep calling it tropical thunder??) which was okay but as I've told mostly everybody, my spiritual leader Tom Cruise Savior of all car accident victims, STOLE THE SHOW! He went low low low low low low.



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I know, I know, we spent a beautiful day in a movie theater? Shame on us! Which brings me to the mini reprimand to those who are forcing me to think about summer being over. How about you shutty?
.
The radio is telling me to smell the dry leaves, the scarecrow displays are popping up everywhere... stop it!
.
I. Am. Not. Ready!
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We had a long hard winter and I'm enjoying our unseasonably cool summer. Plus, I checked and the first official day of fall isn't until September 22nd. If people continue to try and torment me, I'm just going to have to pretend they don't exist and/or rip their heads off with my pinkie nails*!
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And to those jerky trees that are mercilessly taunting me by showering me with their yellow leaves as I'm gardening... who protects you against spiders, birds and squirrels? Me! I'm just gonna go ahead and let Tazz and Mocha pee on you.

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Okay. Now for business. I entered a contest over at Humor Bloggers dot com. It's a (kherm!) sex scandal writing contest. I'm not going to tell you which number I am THIRTEEN or which one is my story THIRTEEN but you can go here to vote for the best one. AGAIN I don't want to influence you in anyway THIRTEEN so I only ask that you vote for the one that made you smiley THIRTEEN.
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Family, if you go over there (which I know you will because you guys are my support system), please do not believe everything you read. Except this right now. You guys know I'm a demigoddess step above an angel.

I'm not sure if I had bragged about it yet but Chelle made me one of Humor Blogger dot com's administrators. What does that mean? It means that I'm cooler than I was a month ago that's what! The site has been evolving and the public forum is open to everybody, well mostly everybody. If she notices that you didn't clean behind your ears, she might not let you pass.
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Now if only we could get Chris to figure out how to sign up for the Humor Blogger dot com public forum so he could submit future entries, hmmmm...
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* I can't always say "I'm going to rip the eyeballs out of your head and piss in your dead skull!"- My threats, like me, need to change with the times.

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