Sunday, August 31, 2008

Crusty crunchy white stuff... my nickname in high school?

You know how when you first start dating someone, everything they do is cute?

"Oh look, she burps after every bite of food she takes! awwww!"

"Hee hee! He just readjusted his package and made
THE MOST adorable face!"
Look how happy... RUN RUN RUN!!

Later it becomes:

"DO YOU HAVE TO BURP ALL THE TIME?? I could smell you had sausage!"


You know, because your relationship evolves and that mushy pink haze floats away and leaves behind the smell of burnt tires? (the smell of disillusionment!)

This morning, after I had brushed my TEETH (still intact thank you very much!) I went to dry my hands on the very chic hand towel, when I noticed some dried white stuff. (GET YOUR MIND OUTTA THE GUTTER!)(You know you went there.)

Since I am a curious person by nature, I looked a little closer and identified the powdery white substance as being dried toothpaste.

Now, the hand towel is HERE and the tube of tooth paste is HERE...
-This is not the actual towel in question. That was replaced faster than you can say yucko-guacko-whatthefucko. I did add the white to it as a reenactment so you could see how gross it was and maybe relive my trauma with me. Also, I removed the name of the toothpaste cuz they don't pay me to advertise. And! If there is an electrician out there reading this, do not, I repeat, DO NOT tell me the outlet is not up to code. I KNOW THIS since I happen to be married to a man that *dabbles* in the art of electricity who complains about it ALL THE TIME! And yet, it's still there. Did I tell the chick up there to RUN??- I naturally ruled the tube out of being guilty and went on to my next suspect.

Andy, did you dry your gunky toothpasty mouth on the freakin' hand towel??


Bee again:

Andy, did you dry. Your gunky toothpasty mouth. ON THE FREAKIN' HAND TOWEL??

(I had to repeat my question because, as usual, he was in his own land of make believe where you have to be a troll for him to hear you. That in itself is becoming a problem because I'm beginning to repeat questions in other settings too! I used to be sane but the people around me are making me crazy.)



%^#$#*@ &^^#^ *!#$%^&*@ (Edited for television)


What? I've been doing it ever since I was a little kid! What do you want me to do?

For starters, try to keep the toothpaste inside your mouth? If you do slobber it all over your face, maybe rinse it and not transfer it onto a TOWEL I USE TO DRY MY HANDS!!

Andy [::shrugs::]:
I can't make any promises.


Then he went back to make-believe land.

I know what your going to say. "Oh Bee! You are so lucky to still be discovering things about each other after all these years!"

Ummm yeaaaah. I wish I would discover he had a great-great-great uncle who left him millions. Then he could smear toothpaste on my hair until it was crusty and crunchy and I'd be all smiles.

He came over before I hit *post* and asked, "Hey, you know that toothpaste thing? Can you not blog about it? It might seem gross to some people."
I responded with a kiss and a pat on the back "I can't make any promises!"


Mom R., I'm just kiddin'! You know I love your son more than pistachio ice cream! ;o) But, if you ever want him to stay at your house for a month or so, gimme a jingle.

Who's yo' pimp??

So! Today August 31st, is National Blogger Association Day of blogging and stuff! Yeah. Now you know.

Here are some people I read whom I enjoy and they make me feel like I'm drinking a glass of bubbly champagne and it's making my nose itchy but in a very tingly way that I like.

Crazy Mom of 3 over at Me ranting and Raving.

April of April's Rants.

Spacemonkey over at Space Log

Debbie from Debbie Does... ... ... ... ... ... Drivel (ha ha!)

Sensei over at A Guy's Guide to Oprah

I know I know! All women and only one dude but what can I say? I happen to have girly parts.

Friday, August 29, 2008


When I showed my 5 year old niece I had posted this picture her response:
"Tia Bee! She's showing her piece!"

I love that kid! ;op

I never really played with dolls as a kid. I was a tomboy to the bone (well, not THAT bone) but now my niece is making me play dress up Barbie and I gotta say that I find having to struggle with the clothes and shimmy the pants up ample hips, a slap in the face! I get enough of the tight fitting clothes in my real life!

Stupid Barbie clothes makers making me feel fat in my safe zone known as pretend land!




Thursday, August 28, 2008

Listen, I can't always use my handy hammer!


Someone give me 3 good reasons why I shouldn’t tap dance on OZ and Glynda’s head while wearing 4 inch heels!

The most creative answer (that does not mention MY weight crushing their skulls because that would kinda be the reason for this excessive exercise in brutality) will win One hundred Bee Bucks!*

However, those that can tell me why I SHOULD, get 1,000, you read that right - ONE THOUSAND! - Bee Bucks!

No, this is not a cry for help. I’d worry more about the imbecilic fools I work with!

More on that tomorrow.

On the sidebar is a new blogger device which you can click on to *follow me*, can you do that for me? I'm one of the test subjects to see how it would work. Thanks! :o)

*Redeemable only in the imaginary Bee store.


Wednesday, August 27, 2008

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hold on while I search for a better picture.

Ewww! No!

No. Whatever the bunny does in the privacy of its own home...

What the...??? NO!

After 25 minutes of searching for the perfect picture of a slim carrot with legs, I give up! You have failed me Internet and also made me hungry! But at least now I'm tired.

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

Humor Bloggers dot com

Monday, August 25, 2008

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


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

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

I volunteered like so:

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

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

He. Grabbed. My. Boobs!!!!

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the new added rule:

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

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


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



Sunday, August 24, 2008

Of all the chicken joints in all the world, you had to be in mine!

Do you guys remember the post I did about the Norman Bates in training I used to work with?? He had a weird crush on me that was borderline obsession?? You don't remember?
Come on!

The one I asked to kill me the day before my 50th birthday? And he promised he would?!?!

On Sundays, we usually give my mom a cooking break and either eat out or pick something up. She wanted Brown's Chicken so she and I drove to the one by my house. The one we've been to about 40 times in 4 years. I had a surprise waiting for me this time.

I had to take this picture sneaky-ly... and he has long hair... ????

YUP! THAT'S HIM!!! When I wrote he looked like Milton from Office Space, I didn't realize how accurate I was!

I recognized him immediately. He's gained weight but then who hasn't.
I was hoping he wouldn't remember
me but I am one to leave a serious impression on people's brains (sometimes I use a hammer).
Really. It's hard to forget me. Even though
I think I've changed a lot in 11 years I guess I've retained some of my cuteness. ;o)

I started ordering all nonchalant like and he asked "Would you happen to be Bianca Lastname" not "hey, are you Bee?" or "Did you used to work at Brown's?" noooo! He not only recognized me he also remembered my FULL NAME.


There I was, in my tattered gardening clothes (shorts with dangling threads, old t-shirt with wax stains thanks to Andy making me help him wax his car and then torturing me with hugs!), no make up and hair pulled away from my face. Gah! If I would have known I was going to bump into a former admirer, I'd have spruced myself up a bit and not looked like a homely housewife with a hangover. Well, at least I was clean(ish)!

I swear that when I smiled at him and said it was me, he could not stop grinning! Awwww!

Anyway, he gave me a run down on his life. He works at another Brown's but was filling in at mine because someone was on vacation etc. Then he asked me what I've been up to. I let him know I worked at an orthopedic's office and that I had moved to the burbs.

I NEVER MENTIONED ANDY!! Oops! Maybe I should have started there? I should have said "Yeah, this chick is taken! I married an an ogre killer!"

My food was ready and as I was leaving, he told me to say "Hi" to brother Dan! He even remembered DAN!! We sure do make an impression on people.

And as I was pulling into my driveway, I remembered... I SHOULD HAVE CALLED OFF THE HIT! What's the matter with me people??? If he remembered all the other stuff about me, he for sure remembers the promise he made.

Well, I've lead a good life with lots of chocolate.

Humor Bloggers dot com

Saturday, August 23, 2008

On "Cribs"* they say "This is where the magic happens!" and they're usually referring to a bed. Me? I'm talking about a computer cart.

A while ago, Alice, from Honey Pie, had posted a picture of her blogging area. I was going to do it too so I took a picture and then saved it in my draft folder for a rainy day. The day has come!

Yeah, it's not really raining but I'm too lazy to do a real post.

Here is where the magic escapes me. It ebbs from my brain cells and drips to the floor until it puddles at my feet and I have to get a mop and some disinfectant.
You see my computer cart (don't be sad that it's not an actual desk since I already have one at work I'm trying to get rid of), my chair, laptop (Ruby), window, etc.

Behind my chair is the Holy Family (Jesus, Mary and Joseph in case you have no idea who I'm talking about and are assuming I mean mine).
I did not put them there, my mom did. She often surprises me by moving them all over my house.

Sometimes she puts them on the left corner of my mantel, sometimes they appear on the shelf next to my peninsula but that's the longest she's left them where they are now. Almost as if she thinks that with them behind me, I'll mind my manners and be more... saintly. Me?

I think it's funny that she put it on top of one of my stereo speakers. If she only knew how they shake, rattle and roll when I put the evil Rock n'Roll devil music on HIGH! (just kiddin' mom)

Then we have The Bettys. They help when I'm stressed because I swivel my chair, hit one on the head so it can bobble and shake the other one so it can hula. I used to use Andy as my stress reliever but he started complaining about neck pain. Wimp!

I also circled Scarlett because she'd be jealous if I didn't. We all know she rules me.

I was too lazy to keep circling stuff but I'm sure you can figure out the rest.
Betty in her convertible, my iPod, agenda, a lamp that SOMETIMES works (let's not talk about the electrician that lives in my house anymore, m'kay?), shades in case I need to read a blog in disguise and uh... that's it!

Oh yeah. The dogs also like to fight for the spot under the cart. They're like a miniature Andy and Bee with all the scratching and the biting (with less fleas)...

Humor Bloggers dot com

Thursday, August 21, 2008

I can't think of a freakin title so make one up once you read this post. Thanks for playing!

There are some people in the blogusphere that brag they have the best commentators in the world.

I would have to disagree and say I have the best ones in the world/solar system/galaxy/universe... INFINITY! If those same fake claimers give me any grief, I'll have to bitch slap them into seeing it my way.

You guys never cease to amaze me. The comments on my last post (HILARIOUS!!! YOU SHOULD ALL HAVE BLOGS! ... Oh.) prove to me you are heartless and have no sympathy for those less socially fortunate than us. I like that about you! :o)

I need to explain why I felt crappy about not putting any extra effort into signing Milton’s card.

It took me back to school, when the unpopular kid wouldn’t get an invite to the popular kids’ parties. I think I’ve said before how I never chose friend’s based on popularity or what cool gadgets they could bring into our friendship.

(ALTHOUGH... I do remember walking off in a huff with my volleyball one time because I got mad at my best friends for not letting me be Kelly, THE Kelly from Charlie’s Angels? But I was only about 7 or 8 at the time.)

I know she felt as if I was excluding her from my *click* when I didn’t mean to do any such thing. I really didn’t think much of it. I didn't know they talked about the nutty things I wrote on their cards because half the time I don’t even remember what the hell I’ve just written.

If somebody draws first blood (hee hee RAMBO reference) I have no problem switching gears to Mondo Bitch but I would never purposely hurt someone’s feelings. As inconsequential as the little message would have been, it did upset her. Sooo, I will be keeping my douche award thank you very much.


I appreciate all of you fellow loonies making me feel better! If not for my anti-social personality added to that the fact that I don't like to be touched -or touch people for that matter, I'd give you all a handshake.

By the way, I’m not trying to imply I’m the popular kid here at Arkham Asylum… hmmm, I guess I am. I can’t help being this cool. Also, I have no *clicks* at work, I am the Alpha chick, the lone wolf(-ess?), I drink alone (youtube).

Do you know what Karma’s payback was? I tried to think of what I would have written and I couldn’t think of a gotdang thing! I lost my MOJO!

This is all I could come up with:

It’s a good thing you’re an account, after this birthday, you’ll need your degree to count that high!

I'm so ashamed!


And now for some more marital bliss entitled "I see more chocolate in my future"

(The following took place after I told Andy the whole family was coming over for a visit.)

I’ll be home at 5 or so. I hope I can get in the driveway.

You’ll probably be home before anybody else gets there.

If not, I’m parking my car in front of Dan’s and he’ll just have to sleep over. “Yeah, how do you like that, Dan? Want some eggs for breakfast?”

Hey! How come you never offer me eggs?

You’re not a guest.

What if I leave you and come back for a visit?

You might find you’ve been replaced!

… … …

So. Um. Hello? I meant by Mocha. She would take over your side of the bed. That’s all I meant. I didn’t mean, you know. I was just…

… … …

So, do you want to go to a movie this weekend? Buy some plants? Shoes???

Sometimes, the most dangerous weapon is silence.

Humor Blogger dot com

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

I HATE it when my conscious bites me in the ass!

You know how I’m always telling you what a cold Bit- uh… Witch I am? Wellp! Today I felt like pond scum. Why? you ask.

As you may remember (because I expect you to follow my day to day drama), Milton and I had a falling out. Things have been a little tense between us and today was her birthday.

As is customary in all offices here and on the planet Zoobar, there was a card that circulated to be signed and she was bringing a birthday cake. Yup! You, as the one who was shot out of someone’s hoo-haa, are responsible for bringing your own birthday cake.

Anyway, the card came to me and I signed it. Here’s where the part of me feeling like a used Q-Tip comes in.

We were in the
kitchen, we had just sung happy birthday (lame), she blew out her candles, they gave her the card and Scarecrow said “Ooh, I can’t wait to see what Bianca wrote!”

Whaaaaat?? What I wrote?

Then everybody started sharing the things I’ve written on their cards while laughing. I could feel the cold sweat on my back, dreading their next question to Milton: “What did she write on yours?”

In my mind’s eye, I leapt in -s l o w - m o t i o n-, pulled the card out of Milton’s hands and wrote something worthy of all the attention my stupid, mindless, Happy Birthday wishes were getting. All this was imaginary because the reality was a little sad.

Milton scanned the card eagerly, her face crumpled in disappointment when she read “Happy Birthday
! -Bianca

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck! I hate feeling sorry for people! I just want to hate them and poke their voodoo dolls full of holes while cackling madly!

I award myself the prize of douche bag of the year!


On a friendly blogging note.

If you have a blog and LOVE Music. You love it so much you’d like to share it with the people
who click on your blog and think you found a solution by making it blare once we go on it… well my friends. STOP IT!

I know it’s your blog and I have no control over it but I kinda do. You have to understand that I do ALL MOST A LOT? SOME of my blog stalking in between mental relapses while at work.
If I click on your blog and Nelly comes on singing “Its getting hot in here/so take off all your clothes” (youtube link) comes on, I will get a few puzzled glances from the gray hairs that sit across from me.

They don’t listen to young people’s music (if you’re still listening to this song you have issues since it’s at least 6 years old!)(not that I want to insult your taste in music… okay, I do.) but they can make out the lyrics and I don’t need more curious trifocal looks coming my way.

Unless you have Frank Sinatra, then we're golden... just a suggestion!
--I might remove that last part of my post since it sounds bossy but we’ll see how I feel later.

Humor Bloggers dot com

Monday, August 18, 2008

More proof of my dumbness plus some movie talk.


I’ve noticed something about myself… I noticed I have issues starting conversations/e-mails/posts. I never know how to start a topic so I’ll just sit there looking at the screen or, in some unlucky people’s cases, their faces, wondering how I can begin talking about something without sounding like I’m waiting for them to finish speaking.

A lot of my posts start with “So…” as evidence above. My e-mails start with “Wzup??” or “hey!” and my live people on people convos start like this “Yeeeeaaah. So, I was thinking…” How lame am I?? Don't I sound like an uneducated goober?? You’d figure that at the grand old age of 35, I would have learned to master interaction with people from my same species! I mean, I talk to my car, my plants and the dogs with an ease that might suggest a mental imbalance but when it comes to people… ::shrug::

I guess it could be worse, I out grew the phase where my greetings were along the lines of “WHADDUP??” or “What’s goin’ on you bugly bastard??”

Anyway, the real reason for this post was to say something about Pride and Prejudice.

I happened to watch it this weekend, not on purpose mind you, it just happened to be on while I was comfortably sitting on the couch with the remote control miles and miles away from my little hands. I tried calling for help but Andy was too busy cackling evilly in the other room. I would have gotten up to get it but it was 11pm and I was exhausted after having walked for 6 hours and gotten sunburned in places the sun knows I’m powerless to protect. MY SCALP. I guess I could have worn a hat but I just look too good in them. I’d feel like I was bragging.

There I was, helpless. I try not to over educate my brain by reading classic novels or watching movies based on them but I had no choice on that sad Saturday night.

I'm surprised to say I liked it. This was the version with Keira Knightly and some guy. At first I didn’t think him to be attractive but there was this scene where it was raining and he was drenched and all I could think was “Yum-O!” but then he dried up and went back to being Plain John. Still, I’d consider him if I had a bucket of water handy at all times.

In that same rainy scene, there was a moment were he’s professing his love and she’s calling him a jag but you could feel the magnetic pull their lips had on each other- which they resisted. I think that was when I decided I liked the movie. Wet hot guy and a non kissing scene.

A few weeks ago, I watched Roman Holiday. I know the right thing to say is “Ooh! Audrey Hepurn and Gregory Peck! Classic!”


That whole thing about a lighter/camera had me and Andy looking at each other in a way two people in sync with each other’s thoughts has “What kind of bull crap is that??”.

How could they be IN LOVE if they’d only known each other for such a short period of time?? Then at the end, they just shake hands? Talk about a waste of an hour and a half! If the people involved with this movie weren’t already dead, I’d go over there and make them do an alternate ending.

This is how it would go:

Paparazzi Guy:
Dude, I got some pics of that princess while she was in the bath! How much do you think they’ll go for?

Gregory P:
Oh, at least 500 bucks. Don’t do anything with them yet. We’ll see if I can blackmail her into marrying me. Why take a golden egg when I can marry the goose?

Yeah! Then you can appoint me head of espionage! Me and my Zippo lighter will take naked pictures of tons of hotties!

Now we’re at the scene where she wants to meet the reporters. GP slips her the naked pics telling her there’s more where that came from and she’ll have to marry him if he knows what’s good for her (this is old people speak).

And they live happily ever after.

What? That’s how Andy got ME to marry HIM!

To all you Internet Explorer haters and Godzilla lovers, I am trying to ween myself off of IE but I find it harder than when I stopped doing crack. Just kidding. I never did crack but I'm sure there's a lot of twitching involved. Help me jeebus!


Sunday, August 17, 2008

Chocolate covered arguments.

Have I told you how long Andy and I have been married?? Yes? I guess I keep repeating myself because I can't believe I've lived with someone, who is not my blood relation, for so long.
We've been married SEVEN LONG YEARS.
To say they've all been a basket of jelly beans would be like saying you can eat bacon off a living pig while it's still rolling around in mud.
Sometimes one or the other of us is a crabby pile of regurgitated dog crap on top of a slow burning pile of tires. Usually it's Andy because I'm just a DREAM 24/7. ;op
Early on Friday morning, he was leaving for work and couldn't find the mortgage bill. By early, I mean crack of fuckin' dawn 6 o'clock in the gotblessed morning. My lazy bones don't have to get up until AT LEAST 7 so imagine my MILD irritation when he came storming into the bedroom bellowing like a boar with a burning stick up his ass. Uh... sorry. I guess I'm still a little pissed.
I jumped out of bed to help him look for it but I was unable to find it. I reasonably asked, "do you have last months? You can use that you know." He muttered something that triggered my temper so a fight ensued.
Ladies and gents, I know you think me to be a timid little flower but I have to assure you I have the arguing skills of a wife who knows exactly what buttons to push. He finally left for work and I got ready for my crappy day at the Asylum.
When he came home from work, he brought me the following:

That's when I realized I'll have to start asking him to bring me something less fattening. I don't think my body can take a lifetime of chocolates after every argument!

I guess the right thing to do would be to argue less but then when would we talk to each other??


Saturday, August 16, 2008

Guess where I am.

I've seen flowers, bees, butterflies, chipmunks, a super pregnant lady with a yellow dress that was so tight I could see she was having twin boys... ah nature!

Friday, August 15, 2008

Blatant self promotion of me and my buds. But mostly me.

You know how you're sometimes sitting in front of your computer, in your torn undies (don't lie, I can see you), wondering where you could go to find a small collection of goofy people without having to see picture after picture of these clowns?
Obama and the other dude

Cox & Forkum Editorial Cartoons

You think to yourself that there should be an easier way than having to sift through website after website?

Well, your wishes made their way to IDAHO! I would like to present a new website from the Creator/Director/Founder of The Offended Blogger:
WE BLOG FUNNYThe hot and fantabulous Chelle B (pictured here) has given some of us jokers the opportunity (practically begged us) to be in her über exclusive club.

Okay, this is how it really went down. (For me anyway.)

[Bee heads over to the hilariously funny Blog, The Offended Blogger and sees she is starting a website. These conversations all happened via g-mail.]

Bee: crying (:'o{
Chelle B! I thought we was buds?? Please please please can I be added to your awesome new website Humor Bloggers dot com??

Chelle B:
I don't know Bee, you have a bad rep. I heard from some people at Humor-Blogs that you don't play well with others and can be quite bitchy when you don't get your way.

Bee: [crossing fingers]
But I'LL BE COOL! I promise to behave! I really do! Nobody will complain about me laughing at their weird hats (again)!

Chelle B:
Can you bring the fun--?

I am funkier than roadkill formerly-known-as-skunk after sitting in the Alabama sun for 3 days. I CAN be funky! I WILL BE FUNKY!!

Chelle B: [rolls eyes]
I was going to say FUNNY.

Bee: [thinks]
Oh. Ummmm, I know a ton of knock knock jokes my niece told me... "what did the grape say when the elephant smelled-- NO! SAT on it? Can I have some cheese?" BWAHAHAHAHA!

Chelle B:
That wasn't a knock knock joke and the punchline is "It let out a little whine"

Who did?

Chelle B:

That's just silly! EVERYBODY knows elephants don't drink WINE! They like peanuts. I said PEA-NUTS!

Chelle B:
Stop. Here is the question, WHAT will YOU do for ME??

After 20 bottles of tequila, 60 tacos (AUTHENTIC-made by my mommy's angelic hands), and 30 cases of CORONA (the real Mexican beer, don't let those Dos Equis dudes fool you), she agreed to have me as a member but it seems I'm on thin ice so let's hope my ego and/or booty, don't get any bigger.

What does this mean for you? Well, you know how much I love you and like to expand your horizons right? This is your chance to go over and see, FIRST HAND, why the good lord graced our lives with kick-to-the-crotch humor.

Thanks to Chelle B's knew website, I discovered The Blah-Blahs and the Yada-Yadas, Tiggyblog along with Dirty Shanks and... wow! I just realized how creative they were with their blog names.

You know what the best part is? It's run by a WOMAN!!

Uh, no offense to Diesel, okay Diesel? Because you know I don't want to be sent to the back of the line at H-B and be #1452. I'm short. I need to be placed towards the front of the line or else I miss everything.

Like the time Andy and I went to see "Grease" for Valentine's Day and this giant, with a head the size of a wrecking ball, sat in front of me and when Andy and I switched seats, so did he because he's an evil bastard who likes to make short, innocent women suffer!!! ... ... Where was I? Ah yes. Humor Bloggers dot com.

I think you should go check it out. There's is no pressure of voting for who you think is the bestest kisser or whose thong is tighter or who you think has three nipples. I usually stay out of the competition because A) I'd always win and B) nobody ever pops a mint first.

I think all the Booze* I sent Chelle B gave me a couple of extra kiss up points because, guess who is the Spot Lit Blog of the week? I'll give you a hint, it starts with B and ends ee'smusings.

So... yeah. Head over there and check out some cool new peeps.

*Why do I always capitalize the word Booze?? Respect I guess.

On a serious note.

--I just want to say that your comments crack me up! Some of you, MOST OF YOU, are as demented as I am and I love it! I've been having some issues with my hands, by the time I come home from work they're FUCKED UP (due to arthritis because of the stupid Brown's Chicken place and many projects I'm working on because of an absent in the brain assistant). Once I get better I'll start commenting on your comments again but I wanted you to know that I treasure every comment like if they were little jewels given to me by Brad Pitt himself. Brad. Pitt. Himself.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

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.
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.

I THINK it’s just jeans.

No, I see socks too.

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

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.


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:

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.


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.
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]


Monday, August 11, 2008

PSA #4754- The car you love and the man who sabotages it.

Hey! I haven't done a PSA in forever!
Ladies, if your husband ever calls you and is FRANTIC, because he thinks your car is going to die while he's driving home after having taken it to get an oil change, where he found out the thingy that blah blah the battery was corroded, let him know that as long as the car is on and your alternator is working fine, you can actually remove the battery and go on your merry way while singing show tunes.* It won't start again once you turn it off but I'm sure the fairies will fix it. When he got home (after he give me hugs and kisses for not picking up my phone until the seventh time he called) (HEY MAN! I WAS READING!), he showed me how they had jimmy-rigged the thingy so that the car would start.

That there is tape. Regular scotch tape. You know, the one you would use to wrap gifts for your loved ones? The one that only sticks to paper or skin (making scary faces by putting tape on your eyelids and then sticking them to your forehead=AWESOME Saturday nights!)?
Please excuse the messy insides. If I would have known I would be sharing the guts of my car, I would have dusted.

This is the best the guys at The Boob Lube could come up with? Have they not heard about duct tape??? It holds the world together!
How about learning a little bit more about cars? Now I have to smell the burning plastic every time I turn on my car! This doesn't let me appreciate the smell of burning tires when I merge into traffic!
He was having some difficulty removing the nut because the corrosion was so bad, it had a welding effect on the washer so I decided to help him with my own tools. His are the big ones with the DIRTY blue handles, mine are the cute ones that say IKEA. Then I got bored, because there are only so many new swear words your brain can learn in one day, so I sat in the garden to read my book while he went on grunting a few feet away. At this point I was only 100 pages away from the end of the rambling 750 page book I was reading and I could taste the finish line! (It tasted of human ribs and pasta)
Andy told me I could go inside since he no longer needed my assistance but it was a beautiful weekend here in Chi-townland so I decided to take advantage of the cool breeze (not to mention I wanted to be within hearing distance in case he caused any MORE damage to my Mini Tank or you know, he exploded)!
He was finally able to remove all offending metal particles (by sawing them off) that didn't belong in my car and replace the bastard piece that was preventing the juice from making my car hummmmmmmmm (all this is technical stuff so if you don't understand, it's okay).

Ooh Shiny! That's Andy's hand. Isn't it beautiful?? And it's not soft either!
There are a couple of things I wish I would have known before this little adventure.
I wish I'd known how toxic the white powder on the battery was. You see, after I helped with the untightification of the nut, Andy dared me to stick my whole hand in my mouth before washing it! Yeah, he is soo trying to kill me!

His warning to me this morning was "Let me know if you see sparks" I swear I heard him mumble "If it's not too late..."
Other thing is, just because your car is running smoothly (until your husband has it for one hour then everything goes to shit!!!!), it doesn't mean you shouldn't pop the hood and check it out to see if it needs anything like say, a cleaning from the acid overflowing from the battery.

All in all, we both learned something new.

Me: Battery liquids/powders = BAD

Andy: My wife knows more about cars than I do.

*I'm not a mechanic (as you can tell by all my non-technical terms) but I've had a shit-ton of crappy cars which made me learn things the hard way. If you ask my family, they'll tell you I blame any car malfunctions on the alternator.
Yes, yes. I know we need to replace the battery but I'm gonna wear out that four dollar piece he had to buy first.
I finished the book and will have a review (nothing too detailed) on it another day. Stephenie Meyer fans will hate me but they can take a number and wait at the back of the line along with the weird tourist who was asking for directions to the Sear's Tower and I mistakenly directed him to the Hancock building. I might have been a little tipsy that day.


Friday, August 8, 2008

All I wanna do is zooma-zoom-zoom and a boom-boom.*

Bee's Musings and the muppet brain behind it will be out of the blogosphere for the weekend.

She will be busy reading out loud and cursing [shakes fist in the air!] her dixlicksick brain because she has to re-read a page more than once. What will she be reading?

Breaking Dawn by Stephenie Meyer

As you can see, the book is YOUGE (753 pages)! She managed to read all 3 previous books in one weekend so this one should be a piece of cheesecake.

Why is she starting it so late since the rest of the world read their book last weekend?
Well, she was halfway to Border's on Friday night, when Scarlett received an e-mail from Amazon saying her order had shipped.

The order she had placed months ago and forgot. So she had to wait and wait and wait and waaaaaaait until now to be able to read it. They delivered it on Monday DAMAGED BY THE WAY!!!! (fuckers!) but she knew if she started it, she wouldn't sleep until it was finished and she'd be going to work with stank breath and greasy hair. Sooooo...

At this moment, you are asking yourself 3 things.

1) Why does she always take pictures of things near her terrarium?

Well, that is the only place with proper lighting since she has a special bulb to make her cacti flourish. Yes, she's married to an electrician but he'd rather be a carpenter/plumber/hot-pants-wearer so he keeps her in flashlights.

2) Why should we care if she is going to be away from a computer the whole weekend?

Who else will harass you for free other than your mother?

3) Why is she speaking in the third person?

She doesn't know but it makes her feel giggly in her tummy.

Now get outta here!

Don't worry, I'll try to eat something sos I don't pass out!
Oops I broke character whatever! It's hard! I don't know how Rickey does it!

I will also try to go to a movie. I think Mama Mia has avoided me long enough!

FADKOG, behave yourself while I'm away. No mocking my literary taste in literary stuff. Literary.

One more.

Anybody who watched So You Think You Can Dance, did you want to get up and dance along with them? Or was it just me? Anybody? Dan??? I'd tryout next year but um, my shoulder hurts.



Wednesday, August 6, 2008

And now for some Milton.

Milton and I had a falling out a few weeks back. She decided I turned 15 instead of 35 so in her opinion, I needed to learn a few lessons. Doesn’t matter what the argument was about, what matters is that she was wrong and I was right. Shocking, I know.

Today I took a payment from a patient. I almost never do that because I avoid all patients like I avoid babies covered in poo. I had no choice this time around since I was watching the front desk while CL emptied her bladder.

The patient gave me his $20 co-pay, I slipped it into the designated plastic envelope they keep in the desk, wrote his receipt, wrote it on the visit slip, made a copy of it in triplicate and smudged my thumbprint on the form after I'd dipped it in blood to prove I had taken someone’s cash. In other words, I followed all protocol and SHOULD have been on easy street.

Ah, how the innocent must live such a simple life when not afflicted with Mad Bat Disease.

Why?, you ask, well friend (can I call you friend? or would you prefer Goomba?), when Milton took the envelope to transfer the whopping $20, she misplaced the envelope.

I was then called upon to describe this infamous $20 bill. Did it have any distinguishing birth marks? Tattoos? Any missing fingers? How about the hair color?

This led me to ponder which would be worse, death by cotton ball suffocation, overdose by nasal spray or being talked to death by a one dimensional accountant.


She found it near the office bathroom. The $20 was exactly as I’d described it. Green with a picture of some dude on the front.

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

What came first? The chicken or the chick who likes to eat them?

I was gardening this weekend and niece Natalia was helping me (according to her, my old bones are decaying).

I love hanging out with her but I never know when a dangerous subject will arise because it always starts so innocent.


Tia Bee, you're 35 right?

Uh-huh. Thirty years older than you.

How old will you be when I'm 35? 65?


Grandma is 20 years older than you so she'll be 85?

Bee: [beaming with pride cuz I still need to use a calculator]
Great math skillz honey.

But then when I'm 65 you'll be 95?

BAM! Because let's face it, even if I start treating my body like a golden Buddha temple -RIGHT NOW- my chances of hitting 95 are slim to watcha been smokin'!

Uh... if somebody finds the cure for bacon, sure!


So there we were, digging holes and replanting flowers.

Where did you get these flowers?

Home Depot.

Where did HD get them?

A nursery I assume. [I explained what a nursery was.]

Where does the nursery get the seeds to plant the flowers?

From other flowers or a seed supplier.

She gives me a look I know very well. this looks says "I am going to keep asking where the original flowers that produced the seeds came from until you can tell me the origin of all plant life, sea life, THE UNIVERSE"

For ages people have wondered what came first, the chicken or the egg. I personally believe the chicken because I believe in God therefore in my mind he made the chicken then the chicken produced eggs. Now, I am not going to get into a theological discussion with a 5 year old so....

Once upon a time there was this evil witch who liked to turn children into stones. This made a beautiful fairy very sad but she was unable to return the children to their human form. Instead, she would turn the stones into these beautifully scented plants with petals, later to be known as flowers. The evil witch then started pulling all the flowers from the earth but little did she know they were dropping little seeds everywhere. The sad towns people decided to pick them up and bury them by their homes. To their surprise, flowers started to bloom...

[serious face] I like your story but next time you can just say "I don't know".
What? I say the earlier she becomes accustomed to this nutty head of mine, the sooner she can start looking after me when I start believing my lies.

Now, aren't you glad I don't have any of my own??

Update on Assistantgate. She called in sick today. That's 3 times in 3 weeks but the powers that be want her to finish the month of August. Can somebody press the fast forward button??

Monday, August 4, 2008

It's like I don't even know him!!

So, on Friday/Saturday, Bee's Musings was out of commission for a spell (always wanted to say for a spell, meh. I think it means for a while in country) due to the evil Sitemeter.

At first, I thought it was my computer because Andy could pull up my blog no problem. I had no clue why or how or what or when or even who but I can tell you that I felt like somebody had given me a swift kick to the imaginary gonads

I really didn't have much time to investigate since my momma was due to arrive and I had Cheerios to eat.

But then...

I received ONE a few e-mails from panicked people threatening to come over to my humble home at MIDNIGHT and have me relate IN PERSON what I was up to.

Having no other choice since I didn't feeling like taking a shower to receive company, I cracked my knuckles and tried to figure out what the problem was first thing on Saturday morning.

The facts were these:
Only people with Internet Explorer had issues.
I couldn't pull up the Sitemeter website.
Other people who had Sitemeter were having the same problem.


I removed Sitemeter and patted myself on the back for my deductive reasoning.

What I didn't understand was why Bee's Musings came up on Andy's computer but not my laptop. When I pondered this out loud in the vicinity of one Andrew Husband, his response?

"I use Firefox, Internet Explorer is for chumps."

Mhm, as Mocha is my witness, that's what he said. Did I know he wasn't using IE? Nope.

I wonder what else he's keeping from me? Has he switched my coffee to decaf?Does he add extra softener to my clothes like I ask? Is he the one who half opened my deodorant? Is his name really Andy??
I checked online to see how much it would cost to replace P-T S (my brain dead assistant) with a monkey and it turns out I'd need permits, proof of disability and around $10 Grand. Now all I have to do is decided what color monkey I want.
She is currently on hold with an insurance company and keeps sighing out loud and then saying "still holding". Each sigh is making me uncomfortable since I can't tell if she's upset or if it's giving her pleasure...

I just went over and asked her to keep her moaning to a minimum.

Minimum equals shutty.