I know, readers, I've been neglectful*. I could make excuses to you about being sick (true) and sooo busy (not really true), but I won't. I'm a bad mother duck. I know this. That is why I will never have kids. But anyway.
So even though I'm not always on here, I'm always thinking about you and trying to dredge up stories to tell you from my most shining life moments. Oddly enough, the bathroom - well known to be the bane of my existence - is my inspiration on this occasion. Why? Because I just went to pee and realized that my underwear is on inside out. Again. Turns out I have skill, because this time I have no excuse. Except being awesome, of course**.
Anyway, walking back to my cube of death following this little revelation, I let my mind wander back to some fantastic moments I've had with the Porcelain Throne. And because you've been such good kids while I've been away dallying, I'm going to give you two*** of my top ten. I know, exciting.
Moment #1: JD's going away party.
In the middle of college, my lovelyface decided to pack up her life and move to Italy to finish school there. While this was schweet in some ways (oh, I totally hit that up on a visit), it also meant I'd be thousands of miles away from one of my best friends for around two years. Faced with this seemingly endless expanse of time apart, we did what anyone would do. That is, have a huge party and get trashed. Naturally. I mean, who wants to remember those precious last moments together anyway?
Needless to say, I don't exactly have the best memory of that night. What I do remember is that at one point, JD disappeared into the house somewhere and being the good friend that I am, I went to find her to make sure she was ok. Predictably, I found her in the bathroom in classic form wrapped around the toilet. What ensued went mostly like this:
Me: (from the doorway) Hey, dear, are you ok?
JD: Uh huh. (gag) I'm fine.
Me: (walking over to rub her back) Are you sure?
JD: Mmhmmm...BLAHHHHHHHH (cue barfing)
Me: Shh, it's ok. (Here's where I made the mistake of looking in the toilet. At which point I was hit by the nasty, warm smell of vomit) Umm.
JD: Hmm?
Me: (Gag, gurgle) Think you could move over?
JD: What? (Gag, barf)
Me: MOVE OVER! (dropping to my knees and throwing up)
---Insert a few more back and forth volleys of retching and heaving.---
JD: (giggling a little like a crazy person) You know, this must be love-HUUUUUH(barf).
Me: (barf, smile) Yep.
Because love means you can each take a side of the toilet and share.
Moment #2: A random night at Sig-O's.
This second top moment comes to you courtesy of another night of drinking. But listen, I'm not really a lush. It's just that some of my best stories come from the rare occasions when I do drink. So, no, I'm not that terrible of a person.
Anyway, one night Sig-O and I were at his place hanging out and having a few drinks, just generally being mellow. Eventually, we decided it would be a good idea to head up to bed, so we started upstairs. As we were getting settled I decided I had to pee, so I hopped (hopped is really not the right word, but still) up and said I'd be right back I had to pee. The moon was bright through the window in the bathroom so I decided to leave the light off to save myself a headache, and I sat down to do my thing. Having had a substantial amount to drink, there was much to, um, release(?), so I put my head in my hands - you know elbows on the knees and all - for the wait. While I was going I realized that I could hear his parents' TV in the next room, and discovered that it was tuned to the History Channel. Being a huge fan of the History Channel (hello, Monsterquest!), I listened in and closed my eyes to try to imagine the show that I couldn't see.
Suddenly I heard a knock on the bathroom door. Startled, my eyes few open.
Me: Um, yea?
Sig-O: Babe, are you in there?
Me: (relieved that it wasn't one of his family members) Yep, it's me.
Sig-O: Are you all right?
Me: (confused) Yea, I'm fine. Why?
Sig-O: Well you disappeared like a half hour ago to go pee, and you never came back.
Me: Oh! Well, yea, I'm good. I was just listening to the History Channel...
Sig-O: What?
Me: The History Channel. I can hear the TV.
Sig-O: Right...But you're sure you're ok? You're not sick or anything?
Me: Nope, I'm fine. I'll be out in a sec.
Turns out I fell asleep drunk, listening to the History Channel while I peed. At least I managed to stay on the toilet. Which gave me an awesome red O around my butt for the next hour. Yay!
I'm attractive in my habits, I know.
Shining life moments, I tell you. SHINING.
*Thank you, Blondie, for constantly harassing me and reminding me of this fact. Don't worry, I have a story just for you coming soon. It just has to bake in my brain some more...you know how that works.
**And, you know, I'm already halfway through the day so those suckers are just gonna stay like that. Such is life. Suck it up, other side of the undies.
***In no particular order, chronological or otherwise. Because choosing between the two would be too difficult for my lazy dome matter.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Open Letters...
Today, I want to shake things up a bit. And this time, I've decided to try the classic "write a letter" approach. Well, my friends, it seems as though I have several letters to write...
To the man in the burgundy Mercedes in front of me this morning,
QUIT PUSSYFOOTING AROUND AND JUST MERGE ALREADY! If you're going to cut me off, you need to just do it. This bullshit floaty dance you're doing with your car where you jerk the wheel into my lane and then back into yours (even though I've clearly stopped to let you go) is just pissing me off. You have a nice-ish car. Learn how to drive it.
While I'm thinking of it, you might want to talk to your douche bag buddy in the green CR-V. It seems he has no concept of merging either. Continuing to drive next to me when your lane ended 500 feet ago is a good way to make me start thinking that real life bumper cars aren't such a bad idea. Too bad I like my car too much. Consider yourselves lucky.
Dia.
To the warm cozy bed I had to leave far too early,
I love you more than you know. I'll be home soon. ;-) Be prepared to snuggle. And to be mobbed by the animals, who seem to love you as much as I do.
Love,
Me
To the girl walking down the street in the minidress,
Um, it's 20 degrees and windy outside. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you that desperate for attention that you are willing to freeze to death? You have nice legs, great, we get it. Now go put some pants on. I don't know if you know this, but pants can also make your legs look nice. They're called skinny jeans. Find some. Besides, then your butt won't look so lumpy. I don't like feeling like I should put more clothes on to make up for your lack thereof. So stop it.
Dia.
To the gremlin who lives in my TV,
I'd really appreciate if you could stop randomly turning off the TV at the most inopportune moments. I mean, really bro, knock that shit off. I know you may think it's all fun and games, but you really are starting to stress me out. I don't handle suspense well. And thanks to you, I don't know the DNA results from the hair found on the Monsterquest expedition. (Narrator: "The Monsterquest team has just received the DNA results from the suspected Big Foot hair it found while doing it's field search. And the results came back..." Beep BoopBoopBoop. TV off. Great.) Listen, man, if Big Foot exists, I NEED TO KNOW!
You're pushing me into an awkward situation my small friend. I like to like my TV. We're cool. It helps me relax. But not knowing the answer to the final Jeopardy question because you think the TV needs a nap is really starting to bug me. I don't like making threats, but you've left me no choice. Watch it, kid, or I'll be forced to evict you.
Really, though, we should just be friends. It would be way cheaper.
Love,
Me.
To my squealing shower head,
WTF. Why do you do this to me? You know very well that I have enough trouble getting up in the morning, so why are you trying to make the experience worse? I know that you don't always squeal like a dying pig, so why only do it when I try to make the water hot? Are you trying to make me miserable? I think you are.
I hate you. This means war.
Hatefully yours,
Me.
To the random animal that has made itself at home in my wall,
Please don't die. If you're going to die, go do it outside. I can handle the fact that you want to live in there, but please refrain from decomposing and stinking up my place. It would be much appreciated.
Also, could you save your creepy scratching sounds for a time when I'm not trying to sleep? I think you must have peep holes, because you always manage to start rummaging in there right as I'm drifting off. And it freaks me out. And confuses the dog. And makes the cat want to hunt you. And you know she'll want you dead, which I've already asked you not to do inside.
Really, I think it's in your best interest to relocate. But that's just me. Suit yourself. Just remember, no dying in the house.
Love,
Dia.
To the TV Pilates instructor,
We need to get something straight here. "Balance and grace" are both things that I lack. So when you tell me to move positions with balance and grace, you must realize that I will be doing a lot of shaking and falling instead.
As long as you're cool with a sometimes student who is a little bit spastic, the we're good.
Me.
P.S. It might just be me, but Swan makes me feel like I'm humping the floor or something. There's got to be a better way. Also, Seal makes me feel special. And not in a good way.
To PsychoDog,
Could you not try to eat my feet while I'm trying to follow along with the Pilates lesson? Cause I think that might be just a little bit helpful to my cause.
K, thanks. We'll go for a walk later.
Wuve you,
Me.
To running,
You're pointless, and I hate you. You make my lungs hurt when it's cold out and I spend the next three days coughing like I have the plague. Why everyone raves about you is beyond me.
I think we have a date later today.
Love,
Me.
To Route One,
You are the bane of my existence. That is all.
Ugh,
Me.
To the man in the burgundy Mercedes in front of me this morning,
QUIT PUSSYFOOTING AROUND AND JUST MERGE ALREADY! If you're going to cut me off, you need to just do it. This bullshit floaty dance you're doing with your car where you jerk the wheel into my lane and then back into yours (even though I've clearly stopped to let you go) is just pissing me off. You have a nice-ish car. Learn how to drive it.
While I'm thinking of it, you might want to talk to your douche bag buddy in the green CR-V. It seems he has no concept of merging either. Continuing to drive next to me when your lane ended 500 feet ago is a good way to make me start thinking that real life bumper cars aren't such a bad idea. Too bad I like my car too much. Consider yourselves lucky.
Dia.
To the warm cozy bed I had to leave far too early,
I love you more than you know. I'll be home soon. ;-) Be prepared to snuggle. And to be mobbed by the animals, who seem to love you as much as I do.
Love,
Me
To the girl walking down the street in the minidress,
Um, it's 20 degrees and windy outside. What the hell is wrong with you? Are you that desperate for attention that you are willing to freeze to death? You have nice legs, great, we get it. Now go put some pants on. I don't know if you know this, but pants can also make your legs look nice. They're called skinny jeans. Find some. Besides, then your butt won't look so lumpy. I don't like feeling like I should put more clothes on to make up for your lack thereof. So stop it.
Dia.
To the gremlin who lives in my TV,
I'd really appreciate if you could stop randomly turning off the TV at the most inopportune moments. I mean, really bro, knock that shit off. I know you may think it's all fun and games, but you really are starting to stress me out. I don't handle suspense well. And thanks to you, I don't know the DNA results from the hair found on the Monsterquest expedition. (Narrator: "The Monsterquest team has just received the DNA results from the suspected Big Foot hair it found while doing it's field search. And the results came back..." Beep BoopBoopBoop. TV off. Great.) Listen, man, if Big Foot exists, I NEED TO KNOW!
You're pushing me into an awkward situation my small friend. I like to like my TV. We're cool. It helps me relax. But not knowing the answer to the final Jeopardy question because you think the TV needs a nap is really starting to bug me. I don't like making threats, but you've left me no choice. Watch it, kid, or I'll be forced to evict you.
Really, though, we should just be friends. It would be way cheaper.
Love,
Me.
To my squealing shower head,
WTF. Why do you do this to me? You know very well that I have enough trouble getting up in the morning, so why are you trying to make the experience worse? I know that you don't always squeal like a dying pig, so why only do it when I try to make the water hot? Are you trying to make me miserable? I think you are.
I hate you. This means war.
Hatefully yours,
Me.
To the random animal that has made itself at home in my wall,
Please don't die. If you're going to die, go do it outside. I can handle the fact that you want to live in there, but please refrain from decomposing and stinking up my place. It would be much appreciated.
Also, could you save your creepy scratching sounds for a time when I'm not trying to sleep? I think you must have peep holes, because you always manage to start rummaging in there right as I'm drifting off. And it freaks me out. And confuses the dog. And makes the cat want to hunt you. And you know she'll want you dead, which I've already asked you not to do inside.
Really, I think it's in your best interest to relocate. But that's just me. Suit yourself. Just remember, no dying in the house.
Love,
Dia.
To the TV Pilates instructor,
We need to get something straight here. "Balance and grace" are both things that I lack. So when you tell me to move positions with balance and grace, you must realize that I will be doing a lot of shaking and falling instead.
As long as you're cool with a sometimes student who is a little bit spastic, the we're good.
Me.
P.S. It might just be me, but Swan makes me feel like I'm humping the floor or something. There's got to be a better way. Also, Seal makes me feel special. And not in a good way.
To PsychoDog,
Could you not try to eat my feet while I'm trying to follow along with the Pilates lesson? Cause I think that might be just a little bit helpful to my cause.
K, thanks. We'll go for a walk later.
Wuve you,
Me.
To running,
You're pointless, and I hate you. You make my lungs hurt when it's cold out and I spend the next three days coughing like I have the plague. Why everyone raves about you is beyond me.
I think we have a date later today.
Love,
Me.
To Route One,
You are the bane of my existence. That is all.
Ugh,
Me.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Virgins and Jehovah's Winesses.
My dear readers, I'm back. I know it seems like a abandoned you in the midst of a cold, snowy February, but you were ever in my thoughts. Needless to say, I'm here once again to brighten your day with another little tale from my messed up, socially awkward childhood.
Recently, while walking Psycho Dog, I came across two small children who were playing in the recently un-snow-covered dirt for some reason I cannot fathom*. Since Nutcaseface was temporarily calm, they asked -in their creepy child voices- if they could pet my dog. Of course you can, little children. As they attempted to stroke her fur with arms that they apparently had no control over, they began telling me that they buried something. Treasure. At which point I look to my left and see an oddly familiar rectangle of disturbed dirt. What kind of treasure did you bury, small ones**? Response? A computer.
Me: (getting all concernicus like a mother) You buried a computer?
Secret Devil Children: (nodding furiously with little smiles) Yep! And a mouse, too!
Me: Um, I'm not sure that your parents will be too happy about that...
SDC: Oh no, it's ok! We took it from our neighbor's house.
Me: (even more concerned) It's your neighbor's? I don't think they'll be happy either...
SDC: Na, it's fine. No one lives there anyway.
Me: Oh, uh huh. (Cue shifty eyes)
At this point, I decided the kids were talking out of their asses. While I could definitely see that there was a laptop buried, I didn't believe the rest of their story. I was just waiting for the angry neighbor to appear. So, with the utmost stealth, I began inching away from them and got out of sight as soon as possible.
As I finished walking PD, I began thinking. Thinking about kids. More specifically, about how kids are full of shit. Case in point? Me.
I may have mentioned before that a lot of my possessions are acquired as hand-me-downs. Nowadays, I'm perfectly ok with this***. But back in the day, hand me downs had a tendency to cause more than a little confusion****. Take, for instance, this one little happening when I was in 4th grade. It was gym, and like all of the other sad sops in class, I'd changed into some ratty clothes to sweat in. That day, however, I was the proud wearer of a new, brightly-colored hand-me-down T-shirt. While sitting on the bleachers waiting for class to start, the Tic-Tac Club noticed my newly neon self and came over to investigate.
Now, what you need to know is that this T-shirt (courtesy of my super religious mom) was emblazoned with all of the names of different religious figures and groups. The Virgin Mary, Jesus, Lutherans, Protestants, Catholics, Jehovah's Witnesses, and the like. To my 10 year old brain, all of these things were equivalent. As in, virgin = catholic. I knew no better. But the Tic-Tac Club was a bit more world wise. And they had a field day with my ignorance.
TTC: (in the disinterested, uber cool kid voice) Hey, what's that say on your shirt?
Me: Oh, this? It's just names of all kinds of religions and stuff.
TTC: Oh, that's cool. So are these all things you believe in?
Me: (suddenly wary and unsure) Well kind of. I'm Lutheran.
TTC: (sensing my doubt, and beginning to pounce) But it says "Jehovah's Witness" on here too, right next to Lutheran. Are you a Jehovah's Witness?
Me: (really confused, but trying to stay cool and follow their logic) I guess so if that's what it says.
TTC: So you go to around knocking on people's doors?
Me: Well...no. I'm not that kind of Jehovah's Witness...
TTC: (closing in) Right. Are you a virgin too, then?
Me: (completely lost) Um, no I don't think so...
TTC: But it's on your shirt.
Me: Well, then maybe.
TTC: Well are you or aren't you?
Me: (desperate not to claim a religion I was not and not understanding the connotations at all) Um, I'd say no.
TTC: You're not a virgin?
Me: I don't think so, no.
At which point they laughed furiously and just had to tell everyone. For my part, I had NO idea of the mistake I'd made. Frankly, I didn't even know what a virgin was, except that I knew Mary was one. Way to go, me. Wait, no. Way to go parents, for explaining this shit to me. Jeez. Anyway, my cluelessness continued until my teacher heard the rather disconcerting news and decided to talk with me about it to see if I was OK. After sorting out my confused viewpoint, she finally explained things to me.
Cue me turning a ridiculous shade of red and dying for the rest of the week.
Great.
FYI, sex-ed started the next year*****. Sigh. If only it'd reached me in time.
Recently, while walking Psycho Dog, I came across two small children who were playing in the recently un-snow-covered dirt for some reason I cannot fathom*. Since Nutcaseface was temporarily calm, they asked -in their creepy child voices- if they could pet my dog. Of course you can, little children. As they attempted to stroke her fur with arms that they apparently had no control over, they began telling me that they buried something. Treasure. At which point I look to my left and see an oddly familiar rectangle of disturbed dirt. What kind of treasure did you bury, small ones**? Response? A computer.
Me: (getting all concernicus like a mother) You buried a computer?
Secret Devil Children: (nodding furiously with little smiles) Yep! And a mouse, too!
Me: Um, I'm not sure that your parents will be too happy about that...
SDC: Oh no, it's ok! We took it from our neighbor's house.
Me: (even more concerned) It's your neighbor's? I don't think they'll be happy either...
SDC: Na, it's fine. No one lives there anyway.
Me: Oh, uh huh. (Cue shifty eyes)
At this point, I decided the kids were talking out of their asses. While I could definitely see that there was a laptop buried, I didn't believe the rest of their story. I was just waiting for the angry neighbor to appear. So, with the utmost stealth, I began inching away from them and got out of sight as soon as possible.
As I finished walking PD, I began thinking. Thinking about kids. More specifically, about how kids are full of shit. Case in point? Me.
I may have mentioned before that a lot of my possessions are acquired as hand-me-downs. Nowadays, I'm perfectly ok with this***. But back in the day, hand me downs had a tendency to cause more than a little confusion****. Take, for instance, this one little happening when I was in 4th grade. It was gym, and like all of the other sad sops in class, I'd changed into some ratty clothes to sweat in. That day, however, I was the proud wearer of a new, brightly-colored hand-me-down T-shirt. While sitting on the bleachers waiting for class to start, the Tic-Tac Club noticed my newly neon self and came over to investigate.
Now, what you need to know is that this T-shirt (courtesy of my super religious mom) was emblazoned with all of the names of different religious figures and groups. The Virgin Mary, Jesus, Lutherans, Protestants, Catholics, Jehovah's Witnesses, and the like. To my 10 year old brain, all of these things were equivalent. As in, virgin = catholic. I knew no better. But the Tic-Tac Club was a bit more world wise. And they had a field day with my ignorance.
TTC: (in the disinterested, uber cool kid voice) Hey, what's that say on your shirt?
Me: Oh, this? It's just names of all kinds of religions and stuff.
TTC: Oh, that's cool. So are these all things you believe in?
Me: (suddenly wary and unsure) Well kind of. I'm Lutheran.
TTC: (sensing my doubt, and beginning to pounce) But it says "Jehovah's Witness" on here too, right next to Lutheran. Are you a Jehovah's Witness?
Me: (really confused, but trying to stay cool and follow their logic) I guess so if that's what it says.
TTC: So you go to around knocking on people's doors?
Me: Well...no. I'm not that kind of Jehovah's Witness...
TTC: (closing in) Right. Are you a virgin too, then?
Me: (completely lost) Um, no I don't think so...
TTC: But it's on your shirt.
Me: Well, then maybe.
TTC: Well are you or aren't you?
Me: (desperate not to claim a religion I was not and not understanding the connotations at all) Um, I'd say no.
TTC: You're not a virgin?
Me: I don't think so, no.
At which point they laughed furiously and just had to tell everyone. For my part, I had NO idea of the mistake I'd made. Frankly, I didn't even know what a virgin was, except that I knew Mary was one. Way to go, me. Wait, no. Way to go parents, for explaining this shit to me. Jeez. Anyway, my cluelessness continued until my teacher heard the rather disconcerting news and decided to talk with me about it to see if I was OK. After sorting out my confused viewpoint, she finally explained things to me.
Cue me turning a ridiculous shade of red and dying for the rest of the week.
Great.
FYI, sex-ed started the next year*****. Sigh. If only it'd reached me in time.
* Once upon a time I used to love dirt and worms and all that good stuff, but for some reason I now see dirt as my nemesis. I do battle with it via the washing machine. And usually I lose.
** I don't actually sound like a child molester. I promise. Or maybe I do, and just don't know it. Either way, I hate kids. So there.
***Especially when it comes to electronics. GMK is notorious for constantly buying the newest gadgets possible. And guess who gets the old unwanted big screen tv? ME. Yesssssss.
****Particularly because my siblings are quite a bit older than I am. Outdated T-shirts anyone?
***** Oh, that is totally a story for another time, my friends.
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