Showering with Bee. But we're all fully clothed, m'mkay?

I'm not an environmental zealot by any stretch of the imagination but when I hear about something I may easily change about my habits that will help save a polar bear so he may live to eat more evil seals , I make an attempt to adjust my lifestyle.

The other day, while in the shower and listening to the radio, I heard the announcer say that if we all stopped using bottled body wash and used bars of soap instead, it would avoid a gabillion bottles going to landfills. I thought back to my life pre-bottled body wash and had no ill memories so I decided to give it a try.

Tuesday morning was my first day testing this *bar of soap experiment* since my body wash had officially run out. I chose Irish Spring as my soap because I imagined myself frolicking in a secluded spring with a good looking Irishman with strong hands and-uh [clears throat] yeah. I lathered up my wash cloth and was immediately disappointed when it didn't suds up as much as my body wash.

I'm a firm believer in the 'no suds, no clean' theory I made up for when I do laundry and dishes so I applied this same theory to my shower. I kept reapplying the soap to my wash cloth but I was running out of time so I did the best I could with what I had.

As I was rinsing, I immediately felt something abnormal. My skin started tightening. I looked at my arm to make sure it hadn't turned into plastic but it was as fleshy as ever. When I began drying myself, the tightening got worse! I dared not bend over for fear of my skin cracking wide open! I lotion-ed myself up as fast as I could and I instantly felt like those leather chairs that undergo oil treatments to make them all soft and mushy. Ahhh! I was back to normal! But fro how long?

I really don't know if I want to go through that again. I may just give my soap to Andy and look for a more woman friendly bar for myself. Womens out there, do you have any suggestions other than Dove and Caress? I want a soap that'll last me some time and not dissolve in water after the first use.

Later, as I was shellacking on my make up, I heard the radio dudes say that a Beluga whale had given birth and this caused a warm and fuzzy feeling in my tum tum so I was all "Awwww" but then I immediately followed it up with "Son of a bitch!" because this baby whale is 5'4 and 162 pounds which makes it skinnier and taller than me!

 

To recap, my skin now resembles a dried out mushroom and whales are taller and skinner than I am!

Crappy Holidays to me!

 

Just kidding, Santa.

Randumbness

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

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

What? You gonna cry for the squirrels now?

There is no mercy in this DOJO!

○○••○○••○○••○○••○○••○○••○○••○○••○○••

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

○○••○○••○○••○○••○○••○○••○○••○○••○○••

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

 

"Thank you! Thank you verrry much!"

○○••○○••○○••○○••○○••○○••○○••○○••○○••

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

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

The end.

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Do you really need your ankle?

Dumbshit.

I don't get paid enough.

I bought 15 pounds of pork and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

Costco has become one of my favorite places to visit on weekends. I know, pathetic. I find myself coming home with enough food, drink and napkins to last us a couple of months. The napkins last longer because who uses napkins?

This weekend, we went for our weekly romantic Costco trip and stumbled across some exciting buys. Above mentioned 15 pounds of pork shoulder mmmmm bring me a fork! A pumpkin pie bigger than a Mac truck's spare tire and 4 pounds of mixed nuts in their shells for only $7.49! It would be a crime not to purchase them.

Andy did have some reservations on all the nutage because he wasn't sure we had a nut cracker (other than yours truly, I mean) so he didn't think it wise for us to buy them, get them home and then have no other recourse but to use them as a fancy decoration because we'd be unable to get to the yummy center.

 I call this "Nuts in a vase, what your mom should have told you about women."

I sadly shook my head and told him this was one of those examples on why growing up in a privileged household may work against him and not allow him to cope with life in the lower class.

Me: Do you think our ancestors had such luxuries as "nut crackers"? No! They used stones to bust their nuts!

Andy [fierce whisper]: Shhhhhhh! Keep your voice down! I am not going to use a rock to eat nuts. I'm no savage!

Me: I will not be silenced! Wanting to survive the winter is not being a savage! Olden days people were proud and honorable! Sure, they pillaged and plundered but then I've seen you eat all the chocolate cupcakes without sharing so who are you to throw stones??

Andy: Just take the nuts. TAKE THE NUTS!!

[a little girl cries out for her mom in fear]

Me: Good going, Andy! You made a little girl cry! Andy?

[Andy has put as much distance between me and my bag of nuts as is possible in a warehouse of oversized items]

Me [to myself]: He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head. I'll show him how to eat these nuts.

Then I walked away because people were staring.

At home, I introduced him to Greta:

 

Tada!

I call this "Crushed nuts, what your dad should have told you about women."

Greta is usually used on those rare occasions when I cook and need to set my stirring spoon down on something other than Andy's head. I think she did a fantastic job, don't you?

P.S.

I also bought some sweatpants (Ralph Lauren @ Costco?) (don't judge me, I live in a cold climate!) and I need to ask if America is turning into a land of giants. My mom normally hems my pants (because I'm 12)(and cheap) so I tried them on so she could see how much she needed to cut and hem. The length she needed to cut? The length of my leg! How is that even possible?