This and That

- Beer and a brand spankin' new phone are the perfect recipe. For a long bath. Just ask Z-Boy.

- Today marks the passing of the last large group that will trample through my hotel this ski season. Which means that I am now officially allowing myself a bit of Short Timer's. April 27th can't come soon enough...

- I am ASHAMED of the degree to which I have had my head in the sand with political and newsy stuff these days. So much has been going on and I have a lot of catching up to do.

- Knowing that I'll be hitting myself in the ass with my office door soon has given me a newfound freedom. I've said some pretty brazen things. And spoken up for myself. And apparently? People respect that shit. Too bad I waited until now to start.

- I wrote a rather snarky work e-mail that referenced interpretive dancing to "Wind Beneath My Wings." I don't know how in the hell I managed that, it just sorta happened. It also just sorta happened that while the person I sent it to could have gotten pissed, she didn't. I secretly wonder if she couldn't help but smile at that particular sentence and perhaps it softened the blow. I'll never know.

- In my attempt to begin writing again, I've decided to loosen up on myself a bit. Gotta get things flowing again somehow. This and That helped back in the day so I'm revisiting the idea.

A Little Bit of This and That

-I can't STAND when lotion gets that little crusty bit that hangs off of the tip of the bottle if you don't use it for a while. I usually fling it on the wall. Between that, and some of you who might remember my hair on the shower wall capers, you all would probably decline to be my houseguest.

-Actually, crusty lotion cruising on the walls and hair in the shower notwithstanding, I'm kinda neat-freakish.

-Recently a wise woman told me, after I'd confessed I get a little jealous when Zee Baby magically transforms from crabby-pants to charming, beaming, arm-waving baby as soon as Zube Boy walks through the door after work, "Daddies get all the glory even though Mommies do most of the hard work. Get used to it." I've been mulling this over for a bit.

-Even though I break free from the restraints of Good Grammar quite regularly, I almost always know what rule I'm breaking and so to my mind, that makes it okay. I get thoroughly annoyed, though, when I'm unsure of a particular rule. But most often I can't be arsed to look it up. I just let it bug me.

Odds and Ends...

-This morning I made a critical decision. Shower or sleep in? Sleeping in won. I am totally regretting that now.

-I am so fucking tired, you guys. I'm going on almost ten weeks of waking up every three to four hours at night. It's starting to wear on me.

-Zee and I are going to kick it in Jersey next weekend. Zee will meet her two cousins. I'm giddy with anticipation. I'm really not looking forward to the flight, though. By myself. With a 10 week old. Eek.

-Moving sucks. In my next life, I'm going to be a rich bitch so I can pay other people to do that shit. Either that, or I'll be a seahorse. I've always kind of wanted to be a seahorse. And I'd imagine boxes aren't involved when they move. That'd be nice. And the men do the whole pregnancy thing. I could live with that.

-Whenever I cook at home or eat at someone's house, I always take the least appealing looking piece of meat when the plate is passed. I've always done this. I don't know why.

-My birthday on Saturday was cool. Pretty chill. Went out for a couple of frothy adult beverages with Zee and Zube Boy. I was that lady with a baby in the bar. But really, it was 4PM and the bars here are no smoking. I didn't feel bad. Some people gave us funny looks, but fuck 'em.

-The other day, I farted and a little bubble got stuck between my butt cheeks. It felt totally weird. I had to do kind of a cross between the jig and the Macarena to release it. I was hoping it would make some sort of 'bloop' sound. It was silent. I was disappointed.

-Zube Boy has gotten me addicted to You Tube. I found this video. It was horrifying to watch the first time. I peeked through my fingers. I've since watched it several times and you know what? It is incredibly heartening. I might've even cried a little a couple of times. The way the coach and the audience all step up to help her through. Maybe the world isn't such an ugly place after all.

-Nothing will remind you of the importance of stretching like a baby. I love watching Zee Baby do her red in the face post nap stretches. I've learned to imitate her and it really, really feels good. You should try it.

An Ass-Kicking Fetus and Other Such Nonsense

-Last night I had a dream that my blog was funny again and didn't talk about being knocked up. Then I woke up.

-I've been hiding out in a little cocoonish world lately. I'm not sad or depressed or anything like that. At least I don't think I am. I'm just really, really hoping this works, and I plod through each day working and watching tv, only to look up at the clock in the evening and go, "Holy shit, I can't believe another whole day has gone by."

-This morning, I was spooning Zube Boy. His ass was all up in my belly. The Turtle started kicking. Zube Boy said, "Did the Turtle just kick my ass?" I said, "Smart kid, that one."

-I'm really, really looking forward to that moment in the delivery room when the doctor sees the kids bits and says, "It's a GIRL!" or "It's a BOY!" Imagining how cool that moment will be has gotten me through many an ultrasound without the temptation to find out what the Turtle's sex is.

-We've settled on a few girl's names. The middle name will be Jane, for my maternal grandmother, Janet. First names in the running are Cora and Fiona. I also really fucking dig Esme, but how the fuck do you pronounce it? I say it Ezmee, but I don't know if that's right. We'd like to have a few names picked out, because what if the kid comes out and totally doesn't look like the one name we've settled on? We're having a bit of difficulty with boys' names. The middle name will be Michael, 'cause that's Zube Boys first name and it's his family tradition to do that. I've got my heart set on the name Otto, Zube Boy's maternal grandfather's name, but I think I may be losing the battle on that one. Seamus* is on the table which goes very nicely with out Mc-Last Name. Naming a kid? Is fucking hard.

*Pronounced, and sometimes spelled, Shamus. It's Irish for James. I think some of you might be pronouncing it See-mus. Just thought I'd clarify.

This and That

-I am fine. The Turtle is fine. So far everything, save a few bumps in the road, looks okay.

-Work is really working me over. How appropriate. So, on top of the utter exhaustion I've been feeling as the Turtle sucks every spare and non-spare ounce of energy out of me, I've been working six days a week here and there. Fun stuff.

-The Episcopalians returned. I still love them as much as ever.

-I've been spotting for the past five weeks. It's kind of shut me up about this whole pregnancy thing. It is disconcerting to say the least, but totally explainable, so try not to worry. I've got worrying covered. I have a 'marginal anterior' placenta. 'Marginal' apparently means that my placenta is low and partially covering my cervix. This, I'm told, usually corrects itself as the pregnancy continues. But before it corrects itself, spotting is bound to occur. 'Anterior' means that instead of attaching itself to the back of my uterus, the Turtle implanted in the front. Which doesn't mean much at all except that, unfortunately, I won't feel those reassuring kicks and such until later in pregnancy because the placenta adds yet another buffer between the Turtle and my nerve endings.

-Yesterday Zube Boy and I went to dinner.

Z-Girl: Honey, do you know what's coming up?

Z-Boy: What?

Z-Girl: Well, January 8th is our six year dating anniversary.

Z-Boy: Ooooh. Six of the best years of my life.

Z-Girl: Aw.

Z-Boy: Down the drain.

Z-Girl: Bastard.

-I'm 19 weeks and 6 days today. You know what that means? I'll be 20 weeks tomorrow. And do you know what that means? I'll be about halfway there. That's been astounding the shit out of me, to be honest.

-I really want a brownie.

-With ice cream.

-And chocolate syrup.

-And whipped cream.

-I'm going to go have one.

-Now.

Sorry I left y'all hanging, YET AGAIN. I've just been plodding along trying not to count days, and that's meant I've kept myself really busy in both totally meaningful and totally meaningless ways.

Uranus and Fist-Pumping Like It's My Job

-You know what? Sometimes, when I'm sitting at my desk avoiding thinking about the contracts I need to write, my mind wanders a little bit. And ya know what I think about? Uranus. Like, I wonder if Uranus has Butt-Biting Spiders with Ass-Swelling Venom, like my little area of the galaxy. See! It's always been about YOU. You and Uranus. Don't you feel special?

-I've decided to tell the next person I check into the hotel, "Now go to your room," when I'm finished with them.

-I am a dork. I know. But you can be my friend. Everyone needs a few dorky friends under their belt. Or, uh, I didn't really mean it like...nevermind. Just know that if you'd like to befriend a dork, it's nice to send a message first. Because even dorks don't go around accepting friends all willy-nilly and stuff.

-It's cool when you're at work and half the power goes out. Like, the half that's responsible for the phones and the fax and the copy machine. But the half that doesn't go out keeps you up to your eyeballs in internet and microwaveable burritos. I have to admit, I pumped my fist a little bit and hissed, "YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!"

-Did I ever mention that I'm quite fond of pumping my fist? And hissing? No? Well now, don't you feel in the know?

Stuff

-Hoot is visiting and we've been whooping it up. I kind of forgot to mention her visit to you because I kind of forgot she was coming. Well, okay, I didn't really FORGET. It's just that her arrival sort of snuck up on my ass the way, well, my thongs have been sneaking up on it. Anyway, we're having a blast and I'm beside myself having her here.

-I find out on Wednesday if I have a thyroid problem. And the fucked up thing is that I really hope I do. My Mom has a thyroid problem, which she acquired in her thirties. It would be resolvable with medication AND I would have SUCH a simple explanation for all these miscarriages I've been having. Plus? It might explain why I've gained, like, twenty pounds in the past year. Which would be REALLY, FUCKING NICE.

-This conversation between Zube Boy and I STILL gets him in trouble. Eh, okay, not so much in TROUBLE but it does guilt him into getting me a glass of milk every once in a while when I'm lounging on the couch and can't be bothered to get up and get my own.

-Junebee had asked what I'll major in should I return to school. I'd like to, if possible, stick to somewhere near my original major. Education of the Deaf and Hard of Hearing. Only if that makes the whole graduation thing easier. But likely, I'll do something along the lines of education. During one of my student teaching practicums, my cooperating teacher told me I had a natural gift for teaching. A gift that took her some twenty years to acquire. I think it's mean to the world to keep that gift to myself. And I think there are a lot more assholic teachers than gifted ones out there right now.

-I really want another tattoo. I'd like to get ZUBE on the small of my back in kind of open gothic letters so there can be a depiction of the mountains showing through them. Does that make sense? That would be tattoo #4. But, Zube Boy HATES tattoos, so I don't know. I mean, I can do what I want, for sure, but if he doesn't think they're sexy like I do, then, is there a point? I think yes. Sometimes. But others, I'm not so sure.

-I collect lint from the dryer and keep it in a little wastebasket. Sometimes I stare at it and think what an ASTOUNDING amount of lint my hairy family produces.

-Whenever I get coffee at a restaurant, for some reason I leave the spoon in the mug while I'm drinking it. I prop it on my nose so it doesn't fall out. People make fun of me for this. But I do it anyway.

Getting Punished With Your Pants Down

-Okay, so I totally stole this from Risible Girl who, by the way, rocks socks. Check her out. Anyway, if you're even remotely interested in gazing at my navel with me, feel free to participate. I'll gaze at your navel with you if you're so inclined to set up a Jahari dealymabob of your own. We could get together and compare lint and shit over coffee. We should probably make sure to use coffee mugs with lids, like travel mugs or something. 'Cause light lint might fly. Just a thought.

-I'm TOO excited because I'm going to North Lake Tahoe, California the first week of April. I'll get to do conferency things and hear and read the words 'ski industry' approximately 2,000 times. WHEE! The coolest part is that I've never been west of Utah before. I'm a west coast virgin, soon to be defiled. I'm looking forward to it. I bet there are lots of people in California to make fun of, too. At least I hope so.

-When I was in high school, this kid pulled down my gym shorts while I was in the midst of lifting weights. I was MORTIFIED because I had on those silky undies with the scrunched up skinny sides that no matter how big of an ass you've got to fill the suckers out they still manage to poof beyond the filler. They were black with big pink roses on them. I remember them well. So does everyone else in my gym class, probably.

I was hugely embarrassed, and with weights in my hand it took painful seconds to resume a position optimal for the pulling up of the gym shorts.

The gym teacher was not amused. She had an ICY COLD STARE that could silence a 6' 3" senior linebacker. And she was like, 4' 10". She pulled out her handy dandy icy eyeballs, and the laughter ceased. So did the weight lifting. She had ten minutes of class left to exact her punishment. And that punishment was fucking beautiful. Almost worth getting my pants pulled down for. Mr. Pants Puller Downer had to jog three laps around the gym with HIS pants around his ankles while the rest of the class sat in the bleachers.

I think the punishment fit the crime. These days, she'd probably get fired. Which is sad, I think.

Shit and, uh, Other Nonsense

-Someone popped a squat in the stairwell at work and let loose their bowels. And I'm not talking about a dignified solid shit. I'm talking ass spray. All over the metal heater thing and the floor, covering about a square foot of area. People are fucking disgusting.

-Zack's runner (leash thingy that lets him prance about the yard semi-impeded but unattended) goes from our back porch around the back of the house. The snow has gotten so high that he's been refusing to ascend it. So. He's started doing his business right on the porch. Lazy ass dog. This morning I didn't bother putting him on the runner. If all of the neighbors dogs get to poop in our yard, he can poop in theirs.

-I've been talking to my uterus lately. I think she's scared. I get my most soothing voice going, and say, "It's okay, honey. I know that when we had a visitor a long time ago it was a bad thing, but this time it's okay. You don't have to kick the visitors out, all right?" I hope this open communication works.

-Nope, I'm not knocked up. I'm just talking to my uterus, 'kay? I mean, what else am I supposed to do to make her feel better? Surprise her with a day at the spa for a massage and a mud bath? I think not. Heh. That would make for an interesting phone call, though.

-I think I'm going to try snowboarding again this year. I guess I'm a glutton for punishment.

-I have to go to court today as a witness in a custody battle. I'm REALLY fucking nervous. I've never done anything like this.

-Oh yeah, I had a dream last night that Zube Boy and I bought a digger (one of those yellow one-seater construction things that digs holes) from some crazy dentist guy. Anyway, I got dropped off to pick it up and, well, I don't really know how to drive stick so I was having a little trouble, and the crazy dentist guy was chasing me with a needle. I was running late for court because I couldn't get the damn thing to move. The chase was pretty funny, like that scene in Seinfeld where George is being chased by all the old people on the mobile chair things? I was all lurching in my digger and the dentist was all old running real slow after me with the needle drawn. Heh.

Anyway, after I finished telling Zube Boy about my dream he said, "Huh, that's weird. I had a dream we had a digger, too, and I was driving it around the ski area." HOW FUCKING CUTE IS THAT?! We both dreamt we got a digger. Awww.

Some More of This and That

-Thanks for all the well wishes and thoughts. The Power Puff Girls made their way to me and I'm feeling SO much better. It was weird, though. It was that scary kind of sad that feels like it might be more of a keeper than a fleeting emotion. You know, the depressed kind of sad where everything seems to suck and you actually feel heavier. Not fatter. Just heavier. Anyway, I'm hoping it's passed. This happens to me EVERY. DAMN. YEAR. at the same time. And it always does pass. Seems to coincide with the days getting longer.

-Okay, I have to confess. I TOTALLY have B-Boobs. That picture down there must have been more flattering. I'm compelled to print out a life-size copy of it and tape it to my chest. Heh. Sorry to have misrepresented The Girls.

-I've always wanted to write an autobiography. Not that I've ever taken any action towards doing so. This one time when I was waitressing, I think I was about 23, a couple of regulars who always sat in my section and tipped me really well, asked me what my dreams were. I told them I wanted to write an autobiography. They said, "Oh, honey, you don't want to do that. You're so young. You haven't experienced enough of life to write about it yet." I wanted to say, "I've experienced so much of life that if it's fairly uneventful from here on out, I'll be happy," but instead I smiled. They liked me. They meant well. They really did. Anyway, if I ever follow through with such a venture, I'm going to dedicate my book to them.

-With all of this James Frey business, I don't know that I want to write an autobiography after all. The Smoking Gun would probably be all up in the grill of the person in my past who might play a key role in my story, trying to find out dirt about me, and he'd be all, "I didn't do it!" Maybe I could write a really shitty autobiography so that no one would really care if it was true or not.

-I don't know what to think of the whole John Frey scandal. I'm reading the book right now. I think it's a good read. That's all I really care about. Did he embellish? I bet he did. Am I still enjoying the book? Yeah.

-Zube Boy FUCKING ROCKS! So, I've been seeing the Monster Ballads commercial for a few months now and every time it comes on I swoon and say, "OH MY GOD, Honey, I LOVE this Song!" to each and every 80's hairband love tune. Anywho, this morning on my way to work, he yelled from bed, "Honey, there is a present on the counter for you." MONSTER BALLADS!!! Woo-hoo!!! I'm listening to it at work right now...Heaven isn't so far away...

Huh? What? Nyquil? And Shit That's Important...To Me Anyway

-This morning I went to work and not three minutes after arriving, my boss said, "Oh my God! What are you doing here? Go home. You're painful to look at!" Surprisingly, I couldn't have been happier to hear her say that. It's days like this that make me want to dry hump my couch. Or just lay on it. And watch Montel. Yeah. I'm all sick and shit. Still. Nyquil is the best thing ever.

-I was interviewed by Brian, a super nice journalist from Glamour magazine, back in October while I was vacationing in Jersey. He was writing an article about women's reproductive health and wanted to talk to someone who would have benefited from the availability of Emergency Contraception to prevent a pregnancy after rape. Before I agreed to an interview, I called Zube Boy to see if he'd be all cool with that. He said, "Of course, I've always wanted to be married to a Glamour Girl." I said, "Yeah, um, honey, it's not like they're going to do a photo shoot or anything. At the most, I'll get in, like, one quote." His response: "I know, but do it anyway. If it'll help other people, it'll help you, and that's all I care about." Have I ever mentioned how much he rocks with the support thing? Well, he does.

The article is supposed to be in the February issue. I'm kind of nervous because shortly after going public as a rape survivor, I learned that you never know exactly which quotes are going to be pulled from a twenty five minute conversation. I fret that they'll publish one thing I said, out of context, and it'll make me sound stupid. I don't know why I'm so worried about it. I mean, it's not like I'm being interviewed by Focus on the Family or some other crazy ass religous group who'd take great pleasure in contorting my words. Regardless, I won't really feel comfortable until I read the article. Anyone know when the February edition might come out? I'm not exactly an avid reader of Glamour, but I can't wait to get my hands on this issue.

-The ten year anniversary of the night I was raped is coming up on January 21st. TEN FUCKING YEARS! And here I am, still writing about it. Sometimes, on a really insecure day, I wonder if people who read my blog are thinking, "Goddamn, when will she fucking get over it already?"

Thing is, not that I'm over it, or ever will be, but I'm okay with it. I share because I want others to know that they can, and likely should, share, too. That's the only way to get it out. It's the reason I feel pretty damn okay most of the time. Every time I tell it, it's like I'm throwing a little piece of the shittiness away. People give me props for being strong, and while I appreciate that, I'd like to extend the accolades to folks who are going it alone. That's a bundle of shit to carry all by yourself. I know because I did it for awhile.

To anyone who has ever commented on my blog or e-mailed me to share your story, THANK YOU. My voice is emboldened by yours. I could never, ever do this all by myself. I hope you don't have to either.

-I love comedians who can't help but laugh at themselves. Not the ones who laugh just to emphasize the fact that what they're saying is supposed to be funny. The ones that are so fucking funny they can't help it and start giggling in the middle of their act.

-Zube Boy had a hard time getting out of bed this morning. I wanted to help him so I farted. Really loud. He got to work early. After calling me fucking disgusting, of course.

Where the Cum Gets Dumped, and Then Some

-Yesterday, I was reading this post by Chickie and decided to have some fun of my own throwing screaming and terrified eggs into the garbage disposal.


Thank you Chickie. It was fun.

-During a few summers while I was in college, I worked on a paint crew. It was a fucking blast and we were all raunchy and shit and got into rubber band fights and I would go home with red welts all over my legs. But, so would the other guy. I loved it. Anyway, one day we were, well, painting, I'd imagine, and trying to figure out the worst insult possible for a girl we didn't like. Cum dumpster was what we came up with. I love it. And it doesn't even have the word fuck in it. But it's just so wrong.

-Yesterday I stormed around the house hissing and screaming, "What is WRONG with you people?!?!?! I mean CATS! Shut up!"

-Sometimes, I'll just be sitting here at the computer and I'll glance around at all of the felines. Like right now. And all three of them are giving me the old stink eye. In moments like this, I feel the teeniest bit crazy.

-I had a panic attack several years ago. I was driving home from work during rush hour and all of the sudden I started hearing video game music in my head and I felt like all of the the other cars were trying to hit me, and that I should hit them back. I stopped at the next exit until the attack passed. Somehow I made it there without ramming into any other cars.

-I don't have a fucking clue what a Podcast is. The only pods I know of are in my closet where I'm cultivating gnome-eating pod-people to protect my home and the size of my pants.

-Somebody said to me once, "Did you know gullible isn't in the dictionary?" I said, "Wow. That's weird. I wonder why not." They said, "Fucking-A, Zube, you ARE fucking gullible." I said, "Fuck you."

I Kind of Wish I Could...

-Make it warmer in Antarctica because March of Penguins made me ball my eyes out. Bless those penguin Dads and Moms. They are so brave. And they don't even think twice about it.

-Feel pretty even without having my eyebrows waxed.

-Stop worrying about feeling pretty.

-Clean up dog puke before the cats get to chowing down on it.

-Not throw up while cleaning up dog puke.

-Take on other people's pain. Because I fucking hate when there's hurting going on outside of myself and there's nothing I can do about it. I can still make jokes when I'm hurting, and some people can't so I want to take it away from them and make it funny.

-Publish a book.

-Have my old car back.

-Eat all the black olives in the world without getting sick.

-Have the years when I was 20 to 25 back because sometimes I feel like they were wasted on being sad.

-Pee my name in the snow.

Calling Mr. Tittay, Calling Mr. Tittay

-Today I booked a reservation for a Mr. Harry Tittay of Intercourse, Pennsylvania. Uh, no, it was not real. The Reservations Manager is off and I'm fucking jealous, so in the name of fucking with him, I sent him an e-mail asking that he give Mr. Tittay a call because we have yet to receive payment. That's what you get if you work with me and have days off that don't synchronize with mine.

-While in line at the post office, my nose started to itch. My hands were full of bills and purses and shit, so I was unable to scratch it. A little voice in my head said, "Why don't you ask the nice elderly gentleman behind you to scratch it? He's not carrying anything." I spent the next half hour in line giggling to myself and scratching my nose with the corner of my cell phone bill envelope.

-Sometimes I think my lips are cute. Like a little bow. Other times I hate them because they're too small.

-When I returned from the post office, I told my coworkers that I'd received a package so big it wouldn't even fit in my box. It was true.

-I've got a terrible case of Dreadlockus Lumpy-hairitis. This affliction is generally caused by a missing brush. And since my brush has been missing for about five days you might say my case is getting severe.

-For some reason I've been repeating in my head, "A cocksucker is a cocksucker is a cocksucker." I think I'm giving myself advice, but I'm not sure as to what situation I'm advising myself just yet. I hope I figure it out soon, because that's some damn good advice if you ask me.

Things That Piss Me Off

Not that you care. Or should really. But, just for the record.

~Mother nature. She's a bitch. SNOW! In September. Well, at least it's not accumulating yet, but still. Enough with it. October I can live with. September? No.

~Zube Boy can start his car from BED now! What the fuck? He goes to bed with his precious keys and the handy dandy car turner oner that he just installed and that's it. He wakes up in the morning, grabs his keys, lifts his arm, and blam. Turns the fucker on. While he's laying down. Just like that. I'm hella jealous. Now I want one.

~I think I'm allergic to returning movies on time. For real. I don't know why we avoid paying money to see movies in a theatre, because by the time I return borrowed movies we could've gone to the theatre and eaten five bags of popcorn. And some caviar.

~When mean poo-flinging neighbors come home after being away for two months. And I didn't even CELEBRATE on my blog, because I'm a superstitious TWIT and worried that if I put on my party hat he'd surely return. But, he returned anyway. Last night. His court date is today. It's been such a pleasant two months without him. Dammit. Maybe he'll leave after court.

~When very sweet people, otherwise known as PaintingChef, send you a package and the miserable excuse for postal workers that we have here can’t get their heads out of their asses and deliver it to your post office box al-fucking-ready! They are a bunch of useless sacks of shit. Ever since I got married and changed my name, they've been fucking up. I'm sorry PaintingChef!

Random Shit

-There are twenty legs in our house. That’s a lot of freakin’ legs. This leg infestation invariably leads to lots of tripping.

-Having pets and hardwood floors is the GREATEST fucking pastime EVER. Nothing is funnier than seeing the critters running at full speed in the hopes of catching another one of the critters, and going nowhere. Even better is when they eventually gain momentum only to slip and slide across the floor on their ass. And careen face first into a wall. Ha. Love it. Hardwood floors. Best fucking investment in my lifetime.

-We went to see The Exorcism of Emily Rose last night. It was pretty good. Not as scary as I thought, which is a good thing because usually I only watch scary movies at home and not in the theatre. I have a scary movie afghan at home. My Aunt made it for me, and it’s PERFECT because I can cover my head with it and peek through the holes when the scary parts come on. Unfortunately, I feel it is far too cumbersome to bring to the theatre with me. I need a mini afghan for movie going. One that would fit right over my face. Yeah. Everybody knows that movies are less scary when you watch them through the holes of a blanket. Or maybe that’s just me.

-I get all warm and fuzzy when I’m driving behind people on motorcycles and they do that special little downward wave to people on motorcycles in the opposite lane. It makes me squee. And wish I had a motorcycle. But, not really. Because motorcycles scare me. My cousin was an EMT and she said they called them ‘Donorcycles’. That was enough for me to never want to be on one.

-I don’t think I used the word ‘fuck’ once yesterday. I’m fucking losing my edge.

This and That

-All of the Z-Pets went to the vet today to get check-ups before their new little sister comes home. They got all kinds of shots and Zack got to wear a muzzle. Whee! He has a special yellow file with the word 'CAUTION' plastered inside and out. His hate affair with the vet started four years ago when we waltzed into the vet's office to get his nads removed, and as standard operating procedure, Mr. Veterinarian grabbed the offending testicles. Let's just say Zack no likey that very much. Now he's considered dangerous. Go figure. I'm not a boy, but I think I would bite someone who was collecting my balls in their hands. Anyway...

Zander is not handling the vaccinations so well. He's yakked twice and has the runs. He looks so sad and lethargic. I'm actually talking all motherese to him while cleaning up his puke instead of cussing and bitching. That's how pathetic he's looking. Poor kitty.

Zoey is just fucking indestructible and unaffected. It scares me sometimes.

-I'm really hoping I didn't see the cute little kid who always wacks our weeds for $5 bucks steal a fountain soda from 7-11 this morning. The guy at the register was chatting on the phone with whom I can only imagine was his bitch, given the shit-eating grin on his mug, while antsy patrons shifted and fidgeted just wanting to buy their 2% milk al-fucking-ready. Anyway, Cute Neighbor Kid walked right by the line with his soda, said, "Hi!" to me, and kept on going right out the door. But, he seems like such an aspiring little entrepreneur and a hard worker, albeit a shitty weed wacker, that I'm going to assume he prepaid.

-Things like this piss me off. French fries aren't good for you!?!? No way! I'm so glad you've warned me because I've been living in a dark, tv-less, newspaperless hole for so long I would have been UTTERLY astonished to find myself unhealthy after eating french fries for dinner every other night. Hot damn. Thanks for the warning label! Legislation like this makes me a little embarrassed to be a Democrat. I hate all the damn laws protecting people from themselves. For fuck's sake, people. Get your head out of your ass. Anywaaaaaay...

-Any Republicans who read that last statement and got a little excited thinking maybe I'll convert...Not happenin'. Believe me, if my Republican husband has given up, so should you. Libertarians, however, I'm all ears.

-That Republican husband mentioned above? He called me a vile wench today. I laughed. Hard.

Have a good one! Feel free to share a this or that with me...

You Learn Something New Every Day

I rather enjoy sharing with you all the things I learn, so I’m going for another round of it.

-While taking a shower, I noticed an odd looking design steamed onto the shower curtain. I said to myself, “Huh. That kind of looks like Pokemon.” Then, I said, “Wow. I didn’t know I knew what Pokemon was.” I learned that I do indeed know at least what Pokemon looks like.

-I learned that I can haul ass uphill, if I believe someone I love might be injured or dead.

-I learned that after your husband has feared imminent death, he might wanna hold your hand a lot. He might also say, “Honey, all I could think was that I was going to die on your birthday and you would have to remember that for the rest of your life. I hated that I might do that to you.” And you will want to melt. Because you can’t believe that while your husband was rolling over in a jeep, all he could think about was you. This love thang is some crazy shit. For real.

-I learned that cocktail weenies are actually pretty good.

-I learned that your hair can grow from long to way longer without you hardly even noticing if you stick it up in a bun as soon as you get out of the shower every day.

-I learned that cutting my hair is an emotionally charged subject for me. I have not, however, learned why yet. I just can't seem to let it go for some reason.

-I learned that I will probably always giggle when a tampon commercial comes on and Zube Boy says, "Honey, shoosh. I like this commercial!" Tee hee.

Things I Learned This Weekend:

-If your face launches an attack on your husband’s forehead in the middle of the night, he might be mad at you even though you were sleeping and didn’t mean it.

-After an evening of ‘Nocturnal Face to Forehead Death Match’, you might wake up with a black eye. And your husband might have a big bump on his noggin. And you both may, in fact, be grumpy as shit.

-You cannot, two days later, tell your husband the unprovoked ‘Attack of the Face’ was a preemptive strike for a dream you had the following night. I mean, you can tell him that, but his eyes will just roll right the fuck out of his head. The fact that the next evening you had a dream he was married to you, but having babies with some girl you barely knew in high school has nothing to do with prior skull to skull combat.

-Even though you are extremely angry at your ‘Dream Husband’ for being an Assholey, Baby-Making with Another Woman, Sack of Shit, it is not okay to be mean to him in real life.