The whole time we were there, I was singing ♪♫"At the carwash"♪♫.

So...

A million years ago, when I was still a slave to the family, my sister and I used to wake up every Sunday morning at 5:30 and take 7 people worth of laundry to THE DREADED LAUNDROMAT! We'd get there before its 6 AM opening and be the first people thru the door. The owner guy knew us since we'd spend 4 hours sweating from the heat of the dryers and gagging at the overpowering smell of fabric sheets. He'd have coffee ready for us and sometimes bring donuts.
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Sis and I had many bonding moments over the tide/bleach/downey and the crazy women who would battle us for the dryers. Guess who always won? ;o)
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When we finally moved out of the apartment and bought a house, we also bought a washer/dryer. No more laundromat for us! Each person was in charge of their own clothes so thus ended our servitude or slavitude if you will. Then I got married and lived happily ever aft-...
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Alas, my idyllic happy ending was not meant to last forever!!!
Our freakin' piece of crap washer decided to be a butthole and break! ::sigh::

We have 2 options:
-Replace it which would mean replacing the dryer so that they can match.
OR
-Have it fixed.
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While we ponder, we decided to also hold a social/economical experiment.
We will see how much money we save on our water bill and electricity WHILST (<-as Brian would say) getting material for the blogus by interacting with other humans.
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Sadly, the place was empty.

Nobody to make fun of but ourselves. I had no choice really.
------
Bee:
Andy, trust the pro. If I say all your clothes fits in that buck 75 machine, then it fits!
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Andy:
Okay. EXPERT. Then you fit my clothes in there.
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[I did so awesomely! I wonder if I can put that on my resume...]
------
Bee:
Is that all the soap you're gonna put in there?? I want my clothes clean! Not smelling like wet crappy laundromat!!
.
Andy:
It's concentrated detergent! You don't need more than half a cap full!

[I see this will be our major battle. I'll just have to sneak more soap in the machine when he's not looking.]
------
Bee:
Do you think I'm faking it?? Do you think I would lie to you and say my clothes are still wet just so that I could steal a quarter? Give me the freakin' quarter!
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[Seriously?? I think I know when clothes are dry!]
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Andy:
I don't care if you don't want to go see Narnia! You're coming with me because you signed a contract to honor, love and support all my crappy movie choices! ... I'll buy you nachos.
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[That doesn't have anything to do with laundry but it did take place at The Mat.]
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We have given ourselves a month to decide what to do on the replacing/fixing the washer. Luckily, because of my Mantra 'Where do you want the shit to hit you?' things like this do not perturb my coolness.
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Here's a coinky dink. Tracy's washer broke too AND she had to go to the laundromat! Weird.
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For those of you doubting Thomases and Thomasinas, here is a picture of my dark dark house at Eight AM.

Would you be able to pick out a dark brown shoe from a black one?

Hey Hey! Before you go, please click on Humor-Blogs!

As they say in Texas, "Go Fetch the RAMBLER!!"*

Calm down! I know it's a long post but it's in 3 segments. You can read it at your leisure with no pressure from me. Besides, I'm not posting again until Friday. Stay tuned for a special announcement.
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In today’s post, we will discuss the following:

-Andy's and my vivid imagination in “Adventures at the Laundromat”

-The Dependency/Addiction to my cell phone in “I forgot my cell phone at work and now you must die!”

-The Book (if you don’t know what book I’m talking about PRETEND you do) in “Dear Lord, it’s the Super Friends vs the Super Villains!”

“Adventures at the Laundromat”

While hanging out at The Mat Monday, we saw a big black SUV pull up and a tiny little woman jump out. She had a black garbage bag in her hands that looked ¼ full (or ¾ empty for you pessimists). She went to one of the big machines, put the clothes into a washer then drove off.

Now, there are 3 different types of people who go to the laundromat:
-Those that come to wash their bedding because they have an average sized washer at home.
-Broke asses who can’t replace their washer at the moment. ::wink::
-Those that don’t have a washer/drier because they live in tiny apartments.

I couldn’t see this lady fitting into either category.

We snuck over to her washer and tried to figure out what she had put in it, you know, in case we were called to testify once she was arrested for some crime.

Andy:
I THINK it’s just jeans.

Bee:
No, I see socks too.

Andy:
Maybe she didn’t want to wash her jeans at home.

Bee:
I think it’s one pair of jeans, a shirt and some socks but I’m not sure.

We decided not to make any assumptions until we could see the clothes better once they were in the drier.

The mysterious short lady came back, put her clothes in the drier and left again in her environment killing monster machine.

SCORE!!

It was one pair of jeans, one t-shirt and socks. We THINK we saw a pair of men’s boxer/briefs but weren’t 100% certain.

This is what we decided her story was:

The rich lady is sleeping with her handyman and she doesn’t want the maid who washes her clothes to find out and tell her husband. What she doesn’t know, is that her husband is sleeping with the maid.

Holes in this theory:
Why wouldn’t she send HIM to wash his own clothes?

Her handyman lover killed her husband after he found out about them and threatened to divorce her and run off with the maid leaving his Ex with NOTHING!
She had to go wash the bloody clothes at The Mat so they wouldn’t find traces of blood in her washer. She will then take the clean clothes and donate them to a homeless shelter.

If her lover is ever arrested, we cannot testify that we saw him and who would think the victim’s grieving widow had anything to do with it?

Holes in this theory:
NONE!

Andy and I shivered when we realized we had been in the presence of an unfaithful murderous whore!!

What? It was either that or watch the Spanish Telenovelas!

"I forgot my cell phone at work and now you must die!"

Normally, when we go do laundry, Andy reads his book (which he's had for 2 years and can't seem to finish it!) and I blog surf on my cell phone but I’d left it at work.

I can’t believe how dependent I’ve become on Scarlett! When I was digging through my purse looking for it, I had all the twitchiness of an addict looking for the last oxy pill. Once I realized I’d forgotten it, I almost drove back to work ready to splinter the door so I could get in the locked office. I took a couple of deep breaths and accepted my loss knowing I would reunite with beloved the next day.

Now you know why we had to entertain ourselves with a murderous fantasy.

“Dear Lord, it’s the Super Friends vs the Super Villains!”

Okay. I am not going to give too many details of the book and I’m not going to tell any of its secrets.
I have to start by saying that I love the story. One of the main characters, Edward, is so sweet and his inner battles had me rooting for him throughout all 4 books. His love interest, Bella, is okay too but my focus is always on him.
When I first started reading the books, I had to accept the fact that she was writing it for tweens and only then could I continue reading. What I mean by that is, books targeted for adults have more complex relationships, the story lines tend to be ore mature in nature and I can identify with some of the characters as an adult.

Before you start criticizing MY writing, I have always said I am not what you would define a writer to be. I’m more of a talk-writer. I write how I talk. I didn’t take any writing workshops/courses/pills, I just sit and spew. I don’t use big complex words, correct grammar/punctuation when I write because I don’t use them when I talk to normal folks. When I talk to attorneys I have to PRETEND I’m a tad smarter than the chicken flipper I really am.

I would honestly feel silly calling myself a writer. If it were up to me, I’d be broadcasting my thoughts directly in your ear without having to type and keep having to go back to correct words like “keep” which I spelled “kepp”

Anyway, I think she could have told the last part of the story in 300 pages. She did not need to drag my ass away from my family and friend (SINGULAR on purpose) for 753 grueling-rambling-stating-the-obvious-bringing-in-more-characters-than-necessary-making-me-want-to-cry-from-sheer-boredom pages!

They ALL love each other! I get it!
They’re ALL in danger! I get it!
They’re rich and have millions to spend on fancy cars, big homes AND ISLANDS! Okay, that’s my fantasy too but going on and on about it is just ridiculous.

I swear I remember being in 5th grade and writing a short story where I was a 16 year old bad ass princess and my dad (King Phillip) had just bought me a Ferrari! Hello? I must have been 11 at the time!! I cringe thinking about it now but I WAS A CHILD!!

I know her story is fantasy fiction (even though I still hope to find immortality one day so the generations to come will adore me just like you do) but she went off the deep end when she made vampires with powers to control the elements. The freakin’ ELEMENTS!!

You know, fire, earth, air and water??

For a second there, I was wondering if I was reading one of Andy’s graphic novels. You know which ones right? The Fantastic Four?? THE X-MEN???

Or how about The Justice League vs. The Legion of Doom. Only the Wonder Twins were on the side of the bad guys in her book.

vs.

For 740 pages, we read about the ANTICLIMACTIC last stand. I have to say that it made me want the bad guys to win.
Maybe she should write me into her book, I have a lot of pent up aggression and it wouldn’t take me but one page to destroy all living/undead things in my path... with perverse pleasure.
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What's that? This post is calling the kettle black?? Yes, but you're getting for free and I am at your beck and call.

Having said ALL that, I will probably buy the next books she's writing entitled Midnight Sun. Ha ha! What can I say? Just don't try to understand me. ;op

*They probably don’t but they do in my head. [regarding title of this post]

Humor-Blogs

Yet another day at the crappy Laundromat.

I am seriously thinking about just washing my clothes in a giant tub and stomping around like Lucy did when trying to make wine... only drunker.

I figure it'll make my clothes cleaner and also give me the much needed exercise my butt needs. I'm just hoping I won't land face down in the tub and then accidentally drown myself in the process.

As a matter of fact, I'm going to market that as the new weight loss fad and I will only charge you, because we're buddies, $29.99 (tub, water, soap, booze and clothes not included). No need to thank me for the special offer, it is my pleasure.

We tried yet another Laundromat from hell and this one provided us with some unwanted entertainment. There was a couple there with 3 kids who came to do laundry as a family. Right now you're thinking "Family bonding over suds and fabric softener? How cute!" You'd be wrong though. It seems the guy might have been checking out some chicks and the wife went ballistic (as she should) at his eye-wandering sorry ass.

Now, if they didn't have those little tykes as witnesses to their horrible behavior, I would have grabbed some popcorn and enjoyed the show. Instead their kids just kind of stood by silently while their father called their mother a bitch and their mother mocked their father by implying he wasn't much of a man.

Here are some random little snippets from these paragons of parenthood:

Dad:
I don't give a fuck whose listening! (maybe I should have stopped walking back and forth looking for change?)

Dad:
What about the kids? They're kids! They won't remember this later! (au contraire mon ignorant douche, I remember each and every argument my parents had)

Mom:
Oh please! Like you would know what to do with one of those women if you had them! (he has 3 kids, I think he'd know)

Mom:
Don't push me! I'll call the cops!

Dad:
Do you think I care if I'm locked up? I don't give a fuck!

Dad:
Where is the goddamn attendant?

Mom:

I don't know! It's not like I own the place!

Dad:
Yes this is your place! You're the one who wanted to live in the fuckin suburbs!

Wait a second! Do not go offending my little suburb! That was over the line buddy!

Now we are at the nucleus of the problem. He was taking out his frustration on his wife because he feels he would get better treatment in a Laundromat located in Chicago. I hate to break it to you sweety but THEY ALL SUCK. Be it here, France or the moon, they're all dingy, dirty and smelly. I remember hearing about one in New York that had a bar in it. That one sucks too but you're too drunk to figure it out until you wake up with a hangover the next day and wonder why there are rats mixed in with your whites.

We can't get a new washer until the laundry room is rebuilt which is closer to being finished than not but oh dear lord is it dragging.

So anyway, if you're looking for me, I'll be in the backyard playing a fiddle while I'm knee deep in sudsy water and dancing a jig.

"I can't reach the clothes line, Pa'!"

P.S.

You guys were all extremely supportive of my new movie making endevour but I snorted when I read:

People in the Sun said...

I laughed. I cried. But most of all, I think you have provided a mirror to society.

That part where the two lovers meet on the driveway, then go their separate ways... I need to be alone now and reflect.

April 6, 2009 11:01 PM

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

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.

OF BUMPER CARS AND LIME GREEN BRAS

Do you ever have times in your life where you just keep getting shit on? And not just ordinary shit like bird shit or dog shit. No, no no! You are lucky enough to have an Elephant shit on you. After it had been constipated for a week. That's how our life has been lately.

On Tuesday Andy and I went to the Laundromat again.
We learned a few things from our first time at the Mat. One of ‘em being leave right after work so that we don’t get home at 9:30.

Andy being Andy, as soon as I walked into the house that fateful Tuesday, I was scolded because he couldn’t get into the garage (I had locked it so no one would steal the picture of the naked chick hanging on the wall and I have the only key)(since I'm the only one taht puts her car in there), I was scolded because I didn’t park in the garage, I was scolded because rainbows and butterflies follow my every move. When I decided to throw one of my rainbows in his direction, like a KILLER boomerang, he didn’t like it so much so was all "let’s go NOW!" uh, I had to pee but okay.

Now, the reason I didn’t park in the garage was because neighbor Boomhauer’s friend’s car and Andy’s were blocking my way. I left my car on the down part of our driveway and figured I’d put it in the garage when we got home from the Laundromat. The other car had been moved since then but I thought I’d leave mine out anyway to scare potential burglars into thinking there was a really cool dangerous chick at home watching reruns of Fresh Prince of Bel Air.

We get into Andy’s car to make our trek to the Mat but something got in our way. Something big and blue. Something I like to refer to as my Mini Tank. Something BIGGER THAN A BREAD BOX!



Guess who he blamed?

If you said "He blamed you” DING DING DING!! You are now the proud owner of a pat on the back.

Here is my alibi:

Andy was in the driver’s seat of his car.

I was in the PASSENGER seat of his car.

Therefore… ergo… nuh-uh!! No way was it my fault!

Unless of course I have a remote control device and made my car MOVE FORWARD.
WITH NOBODY INSIDE IT!
While sitting on the PASSENGER’S side.
Of Andy’s car.
RIGHT NEXT TO HIM.

Fuckin' Toyota piece of shit car! It's only 2 years old and has needed car surgery 3 times before this for the bumper! If this stinkin' piece of crap were a horse, it'd be glue by now!!! (The other 3 times weren't Andy's fault. People hit him. Bad Karma man!)

Let me lay out my case for you.

This is our driveway:


That's Andy's car and mine is behind it on the down part of the driveway. Do you see all the space he had to maneuver around me??

For evidence in my defense, I’d like to admit the following.

The perp has a prior conviction for driving while under the assumption that all big stationary objects will magically disappear/move/lift-themselves-on-their-tippy-toes to get out of his way. 4 years ago, he backed into our house.

Our house is as big as a… well, HOUSE!



I rest my case honorable readers. I know there is no way you will take his side. Well, you CAN but then I'd have to hunt you down and let Mocha kill you with her bad doggy breath.

My Mini Tank? NO DENTS NO SCRATCHES NO SHIT!! Screw the Hummers man! Get yourselves a Hyundai Sonata!

If you click on Humor-Blogs you'll meet more people who like to move out of the way on their tippy toes. You'll also make the elephant shit less smelly.


P.S.
If you're ever in the car with Andy, WEAR YOUR SEAT BELT! And maybe a crash helmet. You should bring some pillows too. Or bubble wrap. Also, don't buy a Toyota. Their bumpers OBVIOUSLY collapse if you look at them funny!


P.P.S.



If you're wondering about the Lime Green Bra. I just thought it was funny how all my clothes were drying. You could see dark brown, dark blue, dark red, black and then one Lime Green Bra shoving itself towards the glass door of the dryer. I was going to take a picture but Andy kabashed the idea.

And I quote "The fuck? Are you nuts?? That is TMI even for you!" I agreed only because he had just had a traumatic experience, you know, my car rearing up on its hind tires then attacking him and all.

Men, Laundromat, Arm Pits.

I have a question, how does your unconscious body know when you’re mad at your significant other?

THE HUSBAND and I had a... disagreeeeeeement last night (I know, I know yesterday I declared my deluded love for him and not 24 hours later we were in a cage match but what can I say? We’re not perfect. Or, you know, he isn’t.) so he stayed in his corner and I stayed in mine the whole night. How do we know not to let our arms wander over and seek out the sleep-hug?

I have to admit though that I slept like a baby since I wasn't being tortured by his iron tentacles without freedom to stretch however/wherever I wanted. So. There.

In other life threatening news.

What is wrong with this picture?

You see that white basket there? That. Is not. My basket!
The very bad stranger man decided he would just use my table, the one I had just cleaned for my folding purposes, and put his crappy basket on it while he put his mismatched orange and purple clothes in the washer.

Me to myself: ‘Okay. Breathe. I can deal. As long as he moves it when he’s done… nope he’s leaving it there. He just sat down! Okay. Relax. Don’t cause any(more) scenes. I’m sure that when all my clothes comes out of the drier and he sees I need the whole table to fold my laundry he’ll move his basket. WTF! He’s not moving his basket and is now staring vacantly at the wall!’

I know you probably think I was overreacting but there is a strict code of conduct when at the Laundromat and this guy was breaking the rules all over the place!

Me to him “I need you to move your basket.”

Me to myself again: ‘okay, he moved his basket but now he’s just staring at me. Hey what if he’s a mobster doing his laundry after a hit? Man, I wish I would have been nicer to him and maybe smiled when I told him to move his basket. Unless he might think I was hitting on him? Oh man, what if he follows us?’

What was Andy doing during the turmoil going on in those few minutes of my life? Why, playing with his phone of course! But that’s not why we got into a fight.

In other critical news:
I am now going to share a little bit more than I usually do but it’s for the sake of the rest of the femmes out there who need to be aware of a very important crap product discovery.

I recently bought a new type of deodorant. It’s called Secret Clinical Strength (1.6 oz) and it cost $8. My usual one (I forgot what my usual one is called I think it starts with an “M”)(but it's not Maury) only costs about $4 for over 2 oz and sometimes they’re on sale buy one get one free. I wanted to try the Secret one out to see if in fact it did the job the little box claimed.
Here is my review:

Don’t buy it.

The deodorant comes out in sloppy little clumps and it doesn’t roll on as smoothly as every other deodorant I have ever used in my entire life. As a matter of fact, a clump fell on my foot which pissed me off to no end because, in my mind, I just threw out a dollar. It also burned me a little but that’s probably because I have delicate skin.

The protection was okay but I think it’s the same as my regular deodorant. In conclusion, clinical-almost-prescription my ass.

And so ends my post for today.

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.

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.

I'm in an abusive relationship... With my hairdresser.

Remember when I dyed my hair black with red streaks? Remember?

Well, I hadn't gone to a hairdresser since that day because I couldn't stand the thought of sitting in a chair for hours and hours and paying a gajillion dollars.

As a consequence, the red faded and left a weird orangey color but don't worry, I'm cool enough to pull it off.

Anyway, it was time to go back to my original guy whom I cheated on to get my highlights. This wasn't going to be pretty. He was going to go completely ballistic!

.

Andy kept making fun of me saying stuff like "The unshakable Bee! Cowering before a gay man!"

Hey! He can be really mean!

Now, I know you must think I go to a frou frou expensive hoity toity place.

I know you think this because I'm always telling you how I'm of discerning tastes and don't like smelly stuff.

The truth is, I used to go to a hair salon that used to charge me $45 to do my hair. Now I go to a place where the majority of the clients are men getting a *fade* and it looks like this:

Don't judge me! I only pay 15 bucks for a great haircut! Plus, you have to be a complete bad ass to go in there and be the only girl in the place. We've all established that I am. (A bad ass I mean)

I had to make up a story to tell Freddy, my hairdresser, so I said I let a friend who was trying to get her cosmetology license mess with my hair. His reaction?

"Girl, she FUCKED YOU UP! You tell her if she touches your hair again I'll FUCK HER UP!"

And he means it too. He took out the big mirror they use to show you the back of your head and said "You see what that bitch did? You see?? Now I'm going to have to even your hair out!"

What did this translate to?

He removed about 4 inches from the length of my hair.

Is that what I wanted?

No. But you know what? He may be short but he IS the boss of me!

Here he is cutting my Andy's hair.

See why I go? It's inexpensive and I get all the abuse I need for the year.

Yeah, he removed half the weight from my head but I love my new hair style! And since I had the orangey highlights, my sister gave me a bottle of dye she wasn't going to use so I got the same *do* I had before for only $20 (including tip).

While admiring my cool hair, I noticed how my eyebrows had gotten all jungley again! The person who normally keeps them in shape recently had a baby and for some reason my eyebrows aren't her priority.

I don't fire her because she's my sister and that would be mean of me.

I took the stupid tweezers and did the job myself. It wasn't as easy as I thought since I didn't have a certain someone holding my chin and calling me a pansy every time I wanted to jump out of the chair.

To take advantage of all this girlie grooming, tomorrow I'm planning on wearing a nice skirt with killer shoes and then I'm going to the laundromat! Don't you wish you were me?

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You too can get a nice hairdo if you click on Humor-Blogs!

P.S.

We watched National Treasure 2 and I just want to know WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH NICHOLAS CAGE'S FACE?? He looks like he actually did have his face removed and then some hack with a butter knife and some fishing wire tried to put it back on! I couldn't concentrate on the movie because I kept wanting to throw up!

Just wonderin'.

El bizarro lunes.

I think some of you who have been around this place for a while are aware I dislike Mondays with the same intensity Andy hates ogres with hatchets.

The events that have taken place today warrant a Monday post.

To start my day, I woke up 2 hours late for work. TWO HOURS. I got to work and was shocked to see the walls have been painted a nice institutional gray. The Asylum now looks the part of, well, an Asylum.

Since today is Tinman’s birthday, he brought his ““cake”” (a big cookie) but he has decided he does not want us to sing to him. The nerve!! I’ve had rave reviews on my singing, mostly by kids who love my rendition of “If you wantta be a grump that’s okay but try and be a grump a little further away. It’s not that I don’t love you cuz you know I do. Sometimes I’m grumpy too!”, but to deny yourself the pleasure of my rancid honey voice is just your loss! Who brings a big cookie instead of cake anyway?? Cheap bastard.

Then I had to use the ladiesroom for the 100th time because it’s cold in this here nuthouse and as I was walking in, a woman (who must have been stashing a bar full of smokers in her coat) came out waddling and said “I feel like I just gave birth!”

Holy sphincter Batman! That was way too much information!

It’s only 11:45 and I feel like this is going to be a helluva day! And also because Andy is forcing me to go to the laundromat today.

Help me Mom R!! You’re my only hope!

Don’t forget, tomorrow is my infamous Interview with a Vegetarian.

P.S. to Tracy:
It’s not that you are not interesting but this vegetarian doesn’t have a blog where we may read her many adventures in vegetable slaying. It’s only fair we shine a bright light on her shenanigans.

Just some randumbness...

Cable Channels have been running every Batman movie ever made to hype the new one released this weekend.

I've seen the first 2 with Michael Keaton and the one with Val Kilmer but I refuse to watch the one with George Clooney (what the hell were they thinking when casting these men?).

The Batman movies before Christian Bale (who might be replacing Brad Pitt in the *My Forever Man* part of my heart... Maybe. I haven't decided yet. I have to think about Johnny Depp too.), to me, were more in keeping with the cartoons I'd watch with the youngest of my brothers. In my opinion, Christian Bale has become the perfect Batman.

Of those older ones, my favorite is the first one where Jack Nicholson played the Joker. He was cheesy but I bought his character as a demented killer. However, I hardly watch this version of Batman because I hate HATE Vicky Vale (Kim Bassinger)! She must scream a million times in this movie and each time it's as if she's sending 33 tiny needles into my brain. I cant afford to lose anymore brain cells, I think I'm down to 4.

Heath Ledger has now replaced Jack's Joker in my head. He was abso-freakin-lutely brilliant! There was nothing attractive about him in this role and he literally gave me chills!

They wrote this Joker as an intelligent sociopath who was not a predictable villain. The parts in the movie where you would laugh, you could tell people were a little nervous laughing at whatever evil thing he said or did.

When we walked out of theater, the first thing I said to Andy was "Man! I'm so upset that Heath Ledger is dead!" I was shocked when I first heard the news of his death but I can't say any of his other movies have given me this level of enjoyment.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking but what do you want from me? I don't have a life! ;op

ΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘ

On a marital note, Andy told me the other day that my cooking has made him gassy. I threatened to never cook for him again and his smart ass response was to say that he keeps me in the luxury I've become accustomed to (SCRUBBING TOILETS AND DOING LAUNDRY AT THE LAUNDROMAT) and all I have to do is one thing, keep him fed.

.

Donations for his funeral are being accepted at my PayPal account.

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I asked him to make his own dinner and this is what he had.

Ice cream and chocolate cake.

Why the hell didn't I think of that??

ΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘΘ

On a rodents from hell note, I have some squirrels that are aching to be made into jerky. They've been diggin through some of my pots and killing my flowers and pepper plants! One of the ladies I work with (notice how they're *ladies* when they're being nice but BATS when they piss me off) gave me a special spray that would keep garden rodents away.

Stupid me didn't wear my gloves when I sprayed the stuff on my plants so I got some on my hands. I almost DIED when I saw the ingredients, Urine and Dried Blood!! I don't know whose urine and blood it is, I just know I scrubbed my hands to the point of bleeding but no amount of soap made me feel clean! ::whimper::

The blasted spray didn't work because on Friday I came home to this:

Now one of those little bastards has run off with my Habanero plants! May their poop catch on fire while it's coming out of their ass!

Well, that's all for now. I'm off to make some BBQ ribs for me and the dogs. Andy can just have more ice cream and cake.

LIVE FROM THE LAUNDROMAT! [Disclaimer, I may or may not be home already since it would have been 540 million giggleybites to send to blogger!]

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you left a plastic bag in a dryer??

Wonder no more! I know what you're thinking! "Wow! A cool new craft for my kiddies!"

All for only $99.99!!



[Plastic Sold Separately!]


BeeCo Patent Pending.


Humor-Blogs

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

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

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

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

Damn thing even turned away pretending to be embarrassed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

P.S.

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

P.P.S.

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

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.

If you smack me with a 3 Musketeer, I guess that'll make me want one...

Okay, I know you think of me as fearless and unrattleable (antonym for rattled) (don’t look it up!) but I have to confess to one weakness (I think I have more but we will not discuss them on this post because it has nothing to do with babies with guns).

I’m not particularly proud of this so I’ll have to beg you not to make fun of me.

Pop up books scare the shit out of me!!

They don’t scare me in the “Oh look! Freddy Krueger is about to lick the side of my face and spear my throat!” it’s more the “Don’t wind the jack in the box cuz I can’t take the suspense as to when it’s gonna pop out!” kind of scary.

Needless to say, I avoid them like I do beets. I know it doesn’t make sense okay. I don't need to hear your lip!

The other day, I was relieving the receptionist while she did god knows what, I grabbed a magazine and started flipping thru it WHEN ALL OF A SUDDEN!

Something jumped at me!

And almost hit my face!

I jumped from my chair, hid behind a wall to peek over at the weird hand trying to grab me!! I want to know who came up with this horrible add campaign! Heads will roll people!*



Look how freaky this hand looks!

She's a model so I know she must be beautiful but that hand just looks like an elephant paw (foot?)!

What's next? Hoses that squirt lotion at you when you turn the page? ::shiver:: That would be freaky.

You know who is weird and freaky? Someone over at Humor-Blogs! Guess who and you get a prize!

*I shouldn’t have to say this but people take me too seriously. I’m just kidding about the pop up books scaring the shit out of me. I just thought it would be funny if there was somebody out there who had this phobia.
...
...
... Okay, they scare me a lil' bit.

P.S.
We went to the laundromat today without Andy hitting any cars! Yay!! Also, there was someone who kept trying to take my quarters! Finally I had to sit the 3 year old down and say "Listen! MINE!" then she climbed over my head and ran away. Hey, I had to make an example out of someone.

Speed. The dangers of the elderly pushing their geriatric hips to their limit.

You know what cracks me up? (Besides monkeys dressed as people I mean, but I'm sure that makes everybody laugh.


Ha ha Ha!! See? Funny! An-y-way! Back to things that crack me up.)
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People who walk AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT in an office environment.

Our office is a decent size with a big reception/waiting room area, 8 exam rooms, then there are the physicians’ offices plus 2 chart rooms, kitchen and a bathroom (I’ve never talked about THAT bathroom because I hardly use it and prefer to go out to the one in the main lobby. Why? you ask, because I went in to use it once and one of the doctors hadn’t flushed which made me gag and… blech!) are towards the back.

You with me? My point here is that no matter how big the office is, you do not need to be rushing about the place like you’re trying to win the 100 yard dash and the prize is a shiny new nickel.

If I have to plaster myself to the wall and then fix my hair after you’ve sped by me, leaving a weird back draft of wind, well, you need to adjust your meds.
AND! If you think I’m going to move my butt faster just because you’re on my heels? The exact OPPOSITE will happen. All of a sudden I’ll be looking for hidden images on the walls or the carpet or the ceiling “ooh! look at that! It looks just like Ghostface from Scream!!”

All in all, this is my way of telling you “Slow the hell down Speedy Gonzalez!”

The 3 feet you walk to the copy machine will not burn 20 pounds of fat off your body. It just won't.
There are no emergencies in our office, except that one time Scarecrow started pushing a wheelchair before the patient had a chance to place his feet on the foot holder things.
No emergencies = no need to power walk with your ass up in the air. Unless that's your signature walk, in that case you have other issues.

Okay, so it doesn’t so much crack me up as make me want to beat somebody with the corner of an iron desk. Just another thing I guess.
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Do you remember this post? Where I wanted people to stop calling me the mother of my dogs?

Now we're on the flip side.

Anonymous dummy:
"What are you getting Andy for Father's Day?"

Fed Up Cool Girl:
"If Andy is a dad, I'm getting him a coffin"

Anonymous dummy #2:
"No silly, from the dogs."

Still fed up cool girl:
"Why do you insist on making these bestiality accusations? My Andy would never get it on with a dog!"

Hopefully word will travel and people will stop their fuckin' questions!

You know where there are allot of quick walking motherfathers? Humor-Blogs.
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On a completely different subject, this here message is for NCS. Her B-Day is 5/28/08. if you're not NCS, don't read it okay? It's secrety and private.


Feliz Cumpleaños Chica Feliz!!! Mucho gusto en conocerte!

P.S.
How does one become addicted to Orbit Mojito flavor gum?? I nearly ripped my desk drawer out when I couldn't find the last piece of gum I had left.

I had to stand back, take a few deep breaths and remind myself gum was NOT worth dying for, coffee on the other hand...

P.P.S.
Stay tuned for my next post where the curse of the laundromat continues. It's a doozy!

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.