New Friends, Ew Friends, and Gas. Of course.

So, I just want to say hello to some newbies! You know who you are with servers in Maryland, Jersey, California and Texas! Oh yeah, I think there is also Arizona and Ohio. Feel free to say hello! I don't bite. Sometimes I hit, but only if you piss me off.

And while I'm encouraging folks to delurk, I'd like to mention that whoever found me by searching 'girl getting fucked by animals' can wallow in the lurking pit. For real. Ew.

I wouldn't mind a greeting from the person who stumbled here searching 'ass fart girl' because that's kind of kicky. I'm driving myself a little bonkers wondering if you've got a fetish or are a fourteen year old kid searching fucked up things on the internet. I think if I were a super hero, I would be the Ass Fart Girl. Clearing the air so everyone is safe from stinky hineys everywhere. I'd wear a cape that smelled like Febreze and carry around candles and such. Whee!

Anywho, I'm just saying hi, 'cause my Mom always told me to be nice and shit like that.

Open Mouth, Insert Soap...

My workplace sponsors a softball team, and most of my coworkers are involved. The Zube Girl, much to the team's dismay, does not play because she has terrible memories of being forced to play as a youngster and getting yelled at by the coach.

"ZUBE! Quit pickin' dandelions, we've got a left-handed batter up, so you might actually see some action."

"Okay coach!"

That's right. I was the queen of right field. Sometimes, when we were playing a good team, they'd move me over to left field for left handed batters. But, I must say, it was kind of nice being over in left field once in a while where there were actually some dandelions left to pick. I'd cleared my domain of any of those pesky weeds.

Anyway, I am the cheerleader. In addition, I drink beer. And say, "Yay!" I'm quite good at this. I think I should get a fucking trophy.

Becki and I were parked in the bleachers cheering and leering the other day, when the other team hit a homer.

Z-Girl: Fuck!

Becki: Ooh. You can't say the f-word, or we'll have to forfeit.

Z-Girl: Well, those cock-sucking sons of bitches can kiss my ass. How's that? No f-word, eh?

Becki: Heh.

What's next? No beer.

CAWOW!

Okay folks. It is now time for our second edition of CAWOW! I've got to give mad props to my friend Chickie over at Skittering Thoughts for playing along. Her pooch-a-roo is oh so twee in her pink digs.

I managed to use the Cool Ass Word of the Week!, though I was driving, so sadly there were no witnesses. Well, it was warm and the car window was down, so maybe someone heard me. I can say with certainty that it was not heard by the dumb bitch to whom it was yelled.

I was driving down Main Street and came to a stop at a pedestrian crosswalk to let some pedestrians cross the street, 'cause I'm a law abiding citizen like that. I lost my temper a wee bit and yelled out, "If you would take your twee ass little bichon frise and shove it up your ass, you might actually get across the street what with all the pink-poochie-hair-bow picking up that would NOT be going on! I know you're a tourist and shit and this is your vacation and you can dawdle all you want, but I've got to FUCKING go to WORK! Now cross the street!"

Hee. I dig the affect of using twee along with my most favorite adjective. Ass.

The new word this week:

dulcet - adj.
1.
a. Pleasing to the ear; melodious.
b. Having a soothing, agreeable quality.
2. Archaic Sweet to the taste.

A huge thanks to Kyknoord for suggesting it. Dulcet may prove to be a very fun word indeed. Remember guys and gals, I'm open for suggestions, so if you've got a word you're just dying for me to yell at someone, give it up!

Have fun with this week's word. I'm off in search of something sweet to the taste. Heh. And I'm not talking beer people. For once.

El Baño

Z-Girl: Honey?

Z-Boy: *silence*

Z-Girl: Hey, what in the hell are you doing in there?

Z-Boy: Nothing.

Z-Girl: Are you negotiating the release of the brown hostages?

Z-Boy: No! Mind yer bizness...

Z-Girl: 'Cause you know I need to take a shower, and that would piss me right off trying to get clean in all that stink!

Z-Boy: Leave me alone...

Z-Girl: You've been in there for a while...

Z-Boy: God. Do you always have to be up my ass? I'm doing my hair. I want it to look perfect for the monster truck show.


And, since I'd obviously be an idiot to believe that, I think I'll shower later.

Some More Before and After

Just because I couldn't be more proud...


As you'll see, we weren't spending much time lounging around eating ice cream.


I'm not your average wife. I have my own mini-size work gloves. I get dirty. I hereby dub myself the Demolition Queen. Where's my fucking tiara?!


One year later. Astounding, eh? Considering that the task was completed on evenings and weekends.


What's with me and the shitty picture taking? I'm definitely more of a fixer-upper than a photographer. But you get the idea.

Yeah...That'll Teach 'Em...

In college I majored in Education of the Deaf and Hard of Hearing. Before I was able to participate in any practicums with hearing impaired kiddos, I was required to do some work as a teacher's aide in a regular classroom. Not that there is such a thing as a regular classroom, but you know what I mean. I was placed in a second grade class with the most bitch-ass teacher ever. For the duration, we'll refer to her as BAT. Don't get me wrong, BAT was nice to me, but the woman was so over teaching that it didn't do the kids in her class a damn bit of good to have her there.

She only served as an example of what kind of teacher I did not want to be. My dream of teaching was never realized because I eventually dropped out of college after four and a half years for several reasons, not the least of which being utter despair with life. But, anyway...

The class was in the inner city, and many of the kids were underprivelaged, to say the least. There was a little girl whose name I have sadly forgotten, and I could smack myself because she most certainly deserves to be remembered. I'll call her Hope, because I pray she never lost that characteristic.

It's a funny thing when you are the new teacher, especially in the younger grades. The kids just love you, and, well, with the bitch they dealt with on a daily basis, I was not surprised to find them hovering around me, giving me hugs, and telling me they loved me. Seriously. The little rugrats rock like that.

On my second day, Hope came skipping up to the front of the class, and handed the prior evening's homework to me, beaming all the while. BAT snatched it out of my hands, scowled over the crumpled up notepad paper, tossed it aside, and said, "Hope's Mom is homeless. We don't expect a whole lot out of her."

I've never seen a more crestfallen little cherub face. It was all I could do not to cry or to scream out, "Oh my God, you FUCKING BITCH," as that wouldn't necessarily be conducive to me graduating and being a teacher very unlike her. But, for fuck's sake. I mean, there were some mistakes, but little Hope had done her homework, quite possibly on a FUCKING STREET CORNER, and rather than constructively correct her work, you TOSS IT TO THE SIDE, and insinuate that because she doesn't have a home, she's not even WORTH TEACHING!!!

That experience opened my eyes to what the educational experience is for many folks. In Hope's case, I'm sure as shit that this was a case of insidious racism. I can only wish with all my might that Hope encountered teachers in her later years that encouraged her obvious willingness to study.

On my last day of the practicum, BAT gave me a card. In it she wrote, "Good luck with the deaf-mutes!" Which, you know what? I'm not even gonna go there. Suffice it to say that deaf-mute became offensive, oh, maybe twenty or thirty years prior.

I'm a Doodler...

Okay, so yesterday's post is kicking my ass! Whew. I'm trying to keep up y'all, so bear with me.

In case you were wondering:


I like to draw mushrooms. Oh yeah. Hey Becki, do you mind if I borrow a post-it-note from your desk? Cool, thanks.


Can y'all guess what I was trying to figger out here?



I take extensive notes at meetings.

Meme Schmeme...

Typically, I loathe memes but this one rocks all get out because I get to talk about YOU, and not me; which pleases the Zube Girl as she is so totally over herself right now.

Anywho, Sarcastic Kitty posted it, and I commented. Thusly, I've been memed. Which is cool because it has only validated my appreciation for yet another blogger (Rock on SK for your answer to a certain question, and in answer to yours, Zube Boy and I do indeed want children).

Well, on with the memers:

1. Comment on this post and I'll respond with a random thought I have about you.*
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll pick a flavor of jello to wrestle with you in.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me (Or so we think).
5. I'll tell you my first memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal.**

*I've changed the wording a bit, and if that makes me a bitch, so be it...
**I hereby declare that if you comment, and don't post this on your blog, I won't be mad. At all.

A preemptive thanks to all who participate!

For the sake of doing this properly, I'm moving my responses onto my actual post. So there.

Phil-
1. You are a wordsmith
2. The movie Singles...The main guy character.
3. Avocado.
4. Thanks for the answer. It drove me nuts.
5. Voting for you in BoB.
6. Tiger. No fucking idea why...
7. What brought you to the blog 'o Zube Girl?

Douglas-
1. You like boobs and butts.
2. "I like big butts and I cannot lie..." (Great, that song is so gonna be stuck in my head for the rest of the day.)
3. Banana
4. Uh, that thing the other day? Red.
5. Why, it was only moments ago...
6. Aardvark
7. Why IS the sky blue?

Courtney-

1. You lurve flip flops, just as much as I do.
2. "Touch of Gray" Grateful Dead
3. Strawberry
4. Mmmm...hot guys on ice. Can't fucking wait.
5. Kick ass, take no names, for some reason.
6. Peacock
7. How many pairs of flip flops do YOU have? ;-)

Mike-

1. Your compliment is suspect because I have the feeling you got here by hitting next blog and just wanted me to visit your site. If that's not true, and you actually return to see this, tell me to fuck right off.
2. Fred of the movie "Drop Dead Fred"
3. Grape
4. N/A
5. Traffic whore
6. Pigeon
7. Will you prove me wrong?

Tickles Tapeworm-

1. Heh. Love your username. Makes me giggle.
2. Brad Pitt in "12 Monkeys"
3. Lime
4. Your girlfriend rocks.
5. Tickles Tapeworm. Hee.
6. Monkey
7. Where did you get your username?

Carrie-

1. I love how you love to cuss like I do!
2. Rage Against the Machine's "Killing in the Name of"
3. Pineapple
4. Cunts can kiss my ass. Except the cool ones.
5. She said cunt. I think I love her.
6. Leopard
7. How much weed do you smoke on a typical day?

Storm-

1. You have pain in the ass cats, too.
2. Lightning Seeds song "Pure"
3. Cotton Candy. Yum.
4. With the orbs, I'm obsessed with them. I like to think they are various grandmothers and grandfathers. I gives me comfort.
5. That photo on your blog. You are one cute chica!
6. Whale. NOT meaning you are large by any means, but there is something gentle and secretive about whales that I just love.
7. You mentioned on your blog that you are a writer. What kind of writing do you do?

Kjersten- I didn't think I'd get through them either!!! Hopefully no one is insulted by my responses. I think I'm funny sometimes, and don't intend to hurt anyone's feelings!

1. You come from a large family.
2. "Lean on Me" by, um, is it Al Green?
3. Peach
4. It's hard sometimes, but it's what makes both you and I such kick ass people.
5. You have the SWEETEST smile ever. Seriously.
6. Horse
7. Where did Mezmerotonous come from?

Debi-

1. You have the same name as my Mom. Debi's are wonderful people.
2. "I'm Just a Girl" by...Gwen Stefani
3. Mandarin
4. What is up with just finding one??? I don't get it either.
5. You're a take charge kind of lady!
6. Fox
7. Are you a typical cancerian? I am.

TJ-

1. You coined the word 'Fook' and for that I am jealous.
2. "Me, Myself, and I" by De La Soul
3. Apple
4. TMI is too much fun.
5. Your life is and has been funny and sad. Just like mine.
6. Penguin
7. When your hair gets stuck, you know where, has it ever, umm, gotten tangled up with...hopefully you know what I mean. I have and it sucks.

Anduin-

1. Your husband scares you, too. Not in a bad way. Just in an annoying way.
2. "Magic Bus" by The Who
3. Blueberry
4. We enjoy quite a strange passtime!
5. That hilarious little kitty.
6. Seahorse
7. Are you a typical cancerian (sorry it's the same as Debi's but I'm an astrology buff)?

Cassiopeia-

1. You get your eyebrows waxed. Which reminds me, I'm starting to like like Bert.
2. "My Baby's Got Sauce" by G-Love
3. Kiwi
4. I'm just as nice as you when I'm getting gas (though, not when I have gas).
5. Heh. I hate body odor, too!
6. Dolphin
7. How did you come up with your username?

SK-

1. You are from Texas.
2. That song "You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman"
3. Orange
4. Never tried the ambesol.
5. Fucking hilarious!
6. Unicorn
7. So, did you read the ambesol thing somewhere, or did you guys just come up with it yourselves?

Erika-

1. You are a flight attendant.
2. "Don't Worry, Be Happy."
3. Mint
4. We don't have that kind of repair shop in my town!
5. Gin and Tonic. Hell yeah!
6. Koala Bear
7. How many different countries have you been to?

Bud-

Feel free to link! I'll give the meme thing a whirl.

1. You dig sex.
2. "Feel Like Makin' Love!"
3. Mint
4. Soon to come. Heh. The better I get to know ya, I mean.
5. Ooh. Smut. Hee.
6. Giraffe
7. However did you find the Zube Girl?

Al-

Of course I'm still playing!

1. You like coffee even more than I do. I'm duly impressed with that!
2. For some reason, the theme song of the Sopranos. Go figure. Speaking of which, is that guy in your profile pic Junior? It looks like him. I'll feel like an idiot if I'm wrong and it's some real mafioso dude.
3. Coffee, of course.
4. Did you wake up your kids laughing? I would've felt bad.
5. Mmm...Coffee...and a picture of Junior (I think). This guy rocks.
6. Eagle
7. How did you and your wife get together?

PaintingChef-

You didn't think you would escape the meme, did you??? You commented, so now it's your turn!

1. Your alter ego is Crazy Chlomid Wife.
2. "No Woman, No Cry" by Bob Marley
3. Blue Rasberry
4. I am so glad you sent that e-mail. It really sealed the deal with my love 'o PaintingChef.
5. Hee. She says fuck a lot. I love her.
6. Starfish
7. I always kind of wonder if Patrick reads your blog? Zube Boy reads mine once in a while, but not devoutly or anything.

Lunchtime Love Notes

Just in case animals ever start going to school and I need to pack lunches for them, I've composed a few little love notes I would tenderly tuck in their brown bags.

****************************************************

Dear Alexander,

For lunch today, I have given you a mouse. Please be sure to finish it and dispose of it at school because leaving that shit by the front door is just nasty, and makes Mommy shriek. And we both know how much Daddy hates when I do that. I know you get to feeling all proud of your prowess, but color me unimpressed with the gifts you give me.

Maybe you could, I don't know, paint me a picture in art class or something. Have a good day at school. Remember: Just Say No to Catnip!

Love,
Mommy

*****************************************************

Dear Zackary,

I'm sorry I yelled at you to, "Get on the damn bus already," this morning. I know you were just upset because Zoey and Alexander got to ride the regular animal bus, and you have to go on the blue one. But, seriously, mornings are not my thang, and all I wanted was for you all to leave so I could have a cup of coffee in peace.

Oh yeah, hurry home after school. Your teacher told me that we need to buy you a helmet so you don't hurt yourself barreling down the hall.

Hope you enjoyed the remote control I packed for your lunch today. It's brand new, but I figured I'd give it to you before I got too attached to it.

Love,
Mommy

******************************************************

Dear Zoey,

What do you think of your lunch today? Yeah, I know you don't actually EAT spider plants but you sure as hell tear the shit out of them to the point where they are deader than even a Mommy with a green thumb can fix. Lest they die in vain, you better EAT ALL YOUR LUNCH. Dammit. Why do you do the things you do?

I've written a note to your teacher forbidding you to participate in gym class because if you were any faster and spriter, I might have to use my superhuman powers to turn you into a rock. And I'm not about the idle threats.

Love,
Mommy

Sisters and the Fucked Upedness of Things I've Said to Them...

When I was in my twenties it was my mission to make sure that my sisters didn't feel embarrassed or ashamed of their bodies. I've mentioned before, but I'll mention again, for those of you who may be new to this blog 'o mine, that their pseudonyms are Hoot and My Belle. They are respectively eight and ten years younger than me. So, when I was in my early twenties, well, you do the math.

The thing is, when I was growing up, I wasn't so open with my parents about stuff like first bras and sex and la dee la. In fact, I remember being mortified when my Mom came home with my very first bra. I turned red as a beet, grabbed the Strawbridge's bag, and ran into my room to figure out the contraption I really didn't need. I wanted to wear it anyway, because the boys at school had just recently discovered the sport of bra strap snapping, and my lack of the proper game equipment had become glaringly obvious.

We were a bit tight-lipped about body stuff. I figure it's because I was the oldest, and we were all trying to figure out the kid/parent relationship gig. It's not that way anymore, and nowadays I tell my Mom just about everything. There is something about sitting your Mom and Dad down, telling them you've been raped and are presently carrying the asshole's kid, that makes you realize there is no point in pussyfooting around anything anymore. You've already told them something earth shattering, and they didn't have a heart attack or crumple to the floor, so everything else seems fair game. They really will love you no matter what.

But, before the dawning of that realization, I often felt weird about sex and such. I never had anyone I could ask, "Hey, so if I like, touch myself sometimes, is that weird?" I decided to be the older sister I never had.

"Make sure you masturbate. It's way less complicated than dealing with boys, and you still get to have a good time."

Hee. They were soooo embarrassed, but you know what? I'm glad I said it. I believed for a few years that I was a freak doomed to rot in hell or go blind, and I wanted to spare them that agony. The agony of worrying about it. At least if we were doomed to rot in hell for a little self pleasure, we'd be there together.

"If you have a funny feeling about a boy, overreact. If he's not a bad guy, he'll understand. And if he is a bad guy, you'll be glad you overreacted."

I once had a funny feeling about a boy, but felt it would be too reactionary to say, "Take me home now." I still wish I'd listened to the little voice in my head screaming, "Get out!" No one had ever told me before that that voice rarely cries wolf.

I'll leave you with a poem I made them memorize when they were eleven and thirteen. We can still recite it from memory today, almost ten years later.

Daughter
By Nicole Blackman

One day I'll give birth to a tiny baby girl
and when she's born she'll scream and I'll make sure
she never stops.

I will kiss her before I lay her down
and will tell her a story so she knows
how it is and how it must be for her to survive.

I'll tell her about the power of water
the seduction of paper
the promise of gasoline
and the hope of blood.

I'll teach her to shave her eyebrows and
mark her skin.

I'll teach her that her body is
her greatest work of art.

I'll tell her to light things on fire
and keep them burning.

I'll teach her that the fire will not consume her,
that she must take it and use it.

I'll tell her to be tri-sexual, to try anything
to sleep with, fight with, pray with anyone,
just as long as she feels something.

I'll help her do her best work when it rains.
I'll tell her to reinvent herself every 28 days.
I'll teach her to develop all her selves,
the courageous ones,
the smart ones,
the dreaming ones
the fast ones.

I'll teach her that she has an army inside her
that can save her life.

I'll tell her to say Fuck like other people say The
and when people are shocked
to ask them why they so fear a small quartet
of letters.

I'll make sure she always carries a pen
so she can take down the evidence.
If she has no paper, I'll teach her to
write everything down on her tongue
write it on her thighs.

I'll help her to see that she will not find God
or salvation in a dark brick building
built by dead men.

I'll explain to her that it's better to regret the things
she has done than the things she hasn't.

I'll teach her to write her manifestos
on cocktail napkins.
I'll say she should make men lick her enterprise.

I'll teach her to talk hard.
I'll tell her that her skin is the
most beautiful dress she will ever wear.

I'll tell her that people must earn the right
to use her nickname,
that forced intimacy is san ugly thing.

I'll make her understand that she is worth more
with her clothes on.

I'll tell her that when the words finally flow too fast
and she has no use for a pen
that she must quit her job
run out of the house in her bathrobe,
leaving the door open.
I'll teach her to follow the words.

I'll tell her to stand up
and head for the door
after she makes love.
When he asks her to
stay she'll say
she's got to
go.

I'll tell her that when she first bleeds
when she is a woman,
to go up to the roof at midnight,
reach her hands up to the sky and scream.

I'll teach her to be whole, to be holy,
to be so much that she doesn't even
need me anymore.
I'll tell her to go quickly and never come back.
I will make her stronger than me.

I'll say to her never forget what they did to you
and never let them know you remember.

Never forget what they did to you
and never let them know you remember.

The older I get, I cringe a little thinking that I was kind of a fucked up big sister, but they've since told me that they felt like they could come to me with any problem. Big or small. So, I guess I did okay. Hell, I never applied for the job of Big Sis anyway. I flew by the seat of my pants, because that was about all I could do.

Never Fart Outside When You Think You're Alone

Because odds are, you're not.

The other night, I was sitting outside, staring up at the sky, feeling that all was right with the world. Except for the fact that I had to fart something fierce. So, I looked around with my piercing x-ray eyes that have obviously lost their acuity since my days as a detective fighting evil.

I could see no one. So, I got her done. Let it rip. Cut the cheese. It was pretty nifty sounding; echoing throughout the neighborhood. I giggled a little because I felt so free and the stars looked so pretty and I REALLY felt as though all was perfect with the world.

Until, I saw the shadow of a figure and the undeniable lit end of a cigarette on my neighbors porch. Zube Boy calls these neighbors The Dudes. 'Cause they're dudes dude. Seriously, dude. They're always hanging out on the porch smoking cigarettes and peeling their vehicles up and down the street, duding it up. I should have known one of them would be out there dammit.

I mean, it's funny when Zube Boy pokes fun at The Dudes, but I've shot any bit of dignity and sneering down my nose at them to bits. Last night, Zube Boy said, "Dude, The Dudes are all fighting and shit." Instead of my usual turning-off-the-lights-and-running-to-the-window-cause-I'm-a-
nosy-as-shit-neighbor routine, I got all sheepish instead.

I replied, "Dude, whatever."

Cool Ass Word of the Week! (CAWOW!)

I am a bit of a language buff. Presently, I’ve got three of them under my belt. English (duh), Spanish, and American Sign Language. I’d like to add French to that list, but I have yet to actively pursue learning it. Someday. Perhaps when our house is done. HA! As if. I'll be all retired and shit and won't be interested in learning anything what with all the beer consumption going on.

Anyway, I also dig words in general. I’m a huge fan of expanding my vocabulary and am constantly looking up words that catch my interest. I’ve decided to start doing some homework I assign myself to give a little structure to the endeavor of learning and using new words. Each Sunday, if I can manage to stick to a routine, I’ll pick a new word, which I’ll post here. I’m open for suggestions, so feel free to toss some good ones out there.

The assignment will be to use that word throughout the week. On the following Sunday, before I post the next Cool Ass Word of the Week (hereafter called CAWOW!) I’ll let you know how and when I used it. Y’all can also join in on the fun of that, if you’re so inclined. I know you’re super-duper excited, so let’s start with this week’s word:

adj 1 : twee --> affectedly dainty or refined (adj.all)
Synonyms: dainty, mincing, niminy-piminy, prim, twee

similar: refined

I fucking love the word twee for some reason. But, twee is mine...Hee.

The trouble with this assignment will be using the CAWOW!s in a manner that doesn't sound too contrived, because I hate getting caught using fancy words on purpose. We shall see. I'll be sure to let you know if anyone rolls their eyes at my usage of a fancy word.

On the (Off)Road Again...

Big black gimp shoe and all, I can't seem to keep him from offroading! Actually, it's kind of nice to see him getting out and about. The injury had him laying on the couch for a bit, so it's awesome to see my Zube Boy all mobile and shit. We've only got about a month before cold weather descends upon us up here in the mountains, so he might as well get in all the offroading he can.


His crutches are hidden somewhere in the car. I tried to get him to show them off, but he wasn't having it!


I must say, Zube Boy looks pretty damn happy to be out o' the prison, erm, I mean, house!

I'm Going All Meta and Stuff..

I have been reviewed all of two times over at Blog Explosion. The first review was a while ago and I received a 94% score. Kisses to that person, and I hope you were being sincere, because that high of a score actually surprised me. The second I received this morning. It was rather scathing, and here 'tis:

Word to describe your blog: Personal
What user liked the most: Great Photos/Images
Review Type: Rating
Design/Style: 1 of 5
Recent/Regular Updates: 3 of 5
Loadtime: 1 of 5
Interesting Content: 1 of 5
Technical Errors: 3 of 5
Colors: 1 of 5
Grammar: 1 of 5
Too many plugins: 3 of 5
Layout: 1 of 5

Review total score: 34 of 100%

I have only two contentions with this review. Firstly, I find it difficult to believe that you liked the great photographs I've got going on here. Case in point, the photograph below has my finger in the upper right hand corner. That's how about 85% of the pictures I take turn out. If you were going for irony, though, it did give me a giggle.

Secondly, my score of 3 out of 5 in the category of regular updates seems a bit harsh, no? I perused my archives and found that I missed seven days since June 4 which was the day I returned from vacation. Sometimes I post more than once in a day. Now, I could be posting absolute shit for content, but this is not a subjective question really. I don't know how much more I'd have to post to warrant a 5 out of 5 in your eyes, but you can bet that I'm not going to go there. I'm already fretting my lack of a life having only missed seven days of sixty-some. But, it's okay, because I go outside and play a lot.

Anyway, I'd argue that my grammar deserves a little higher than 1 of 5 because I think I spel reel gud, but sometimes I take liberties with the English language that might be interpreted as bad grammar, so I'll give you that one.

Thing is, I can handle constructive criticism. In fact, I was once lambasted in a post by another blogger who was not too keen on something I'd written about my ass. At first I was a little torqued about it, but then I pulled my thumb out of mouth and my head out of my rear end and said, "Gee Zube Girl. Another blogger didn't appreciate a post about your ass. Imagine that!" *Insert self-deprecating eyeroll here*

But, he had the decency to link to me so I would know what was going on, and respond accordingly. He had balls, so to speak. And, I respect that.

In summation, it would have been nice if you'd have made some suggestions in the comment box for me to suck a little less, or at the very least let me know what kind of technical errors I have on my page. But, I do thank you for taking the time to review my blog.

I don't usually blog about blogging. I find the metaness of it irritating. But, I've officially dubbed today, "I Don't Care, I Do What I Want!" Day.

We Did It All By Ourselves...

The guest bathroom before remodel...


The guest bathroom after remodel...and still awaiting the installment of the rest of the wainscoting. Pretty nifty change, though, huh?


Who knew drinking beer and sweating bullets could make such a difference?

It's Sort of Making a Funny Noise

I believe something is wrong with my car. I can't seem to get the hood to close because there is a strange object in the way making random squawking noises that sometimes sound like, "WHERE'S MY DINNER, WOMAN?"

My couch has a similar malady. This one, though, doesn't squawk as much, but it does like to steal the remote and watch crazy ass shit about cranes, planes, and automobiles on the tube. And that crap just bores me silly.

I think my house is infested. Anyone got any remedies for such a problem?

You Want Out? I'll Show You the Door...

Alexander and Zoey are spoiled fucking brats. Seriously. And, I've got no one to blame but myself. They are both so damn vocal, and no matter how many times I tell them cats are to be seen and not heard, they fail to grasp the concept. They MEOW their asses off when they want in and out, which between the two of them is just about every 15 minutes. Alexander is fond of sitting outside the kitchen window, and staring at me, while serenading me with MRRRROOOOOWRRRRRR's. Having been a cat translator in the past, this means, "Hey. Human. Let me in. I want me some kibble. NOW!"

It drives me fucking nuts, and for that reason, I let him in. Well, actually once in a while, I'll stand at the sink, fill a glass with water, and throw it through the window screen laughing wildly as he nearly flies around the side of the house. Hee.

Being the permissive kitty Mom that I am, when they're winding themselves around my legs whining to be let out, in the name of actually being able to make dinner, I stomp self-righteously to the laundry room proclaiming, "I fucking hate you all," and open the back door. It would give me GREAT pleasure to assist their departure from the house with a swift kick in the ass. I get all tingly thinking about it. But you know what? They're too goddamn fast!

I end up losing my balance all cartoon style because whilst my foot is still gaining momentum they're halfway across the fucking yard already, and I end up kicking air. Or, on a really bad day, I kick the door which I've only opened a teeny bit in the hopes of actually pulling off foot to cat-ass contact. Ouch.

Nothing gets me pissier than kicking something that's not there, or even worse, something I did not intend to kick at all, so I head back inside, pick up the phone, and order myself some Chinese. For some reason, this gets me feeling smug.

Comic Relief

The night of Zube Boy's accident, we arrived at the emergency room, and he was immediately plopped into a wheelchair and wheeled through the ER doors. I sat in the waiting room with our friend, The Englishman, twiddling my thumbs when all of the sudden, something dawned on me.

Z-Girl: Umm, hey, Englishman. Do you think I'm allowed to like, be back there with him?

Englishman: Well, duh, you're married. What the hell are you doing out here in the waiting room.

Z-Girl: Huh. I guess you're right.

I approached the receptionist, and asked to be with my husband. She said, "Oh, that's your husband? Of course! Actually, would you fill out his paperwork while you're back there?" I replied, "Of course," and was shuffled back to where my injured man lay.

Z-Girl: Hi my honey!

Z-Boy: Hi honey.

Z-Girl: Does it hurt?

Z-Boy: Yeah. It hurts a lot.

Z-Girl: I'm sorry. Well, in other news, I really feel like your wife. They gave me your paperwork to fill out.

Z-Boy: *groaning in pain*

Z-Girl: Let's see what we have here. Hmmm...DNR? Honey, doesn't that mean Do Not Resucitate?

Z-Boy: Heh.

Z-Girl: Okay then, DNR...Check. Hmmm...Have you ever felt threathened by your spouse?

Z-Boy: Well...

Z-Girl: Shush. That would be a no. No...Check.

Z-Boy: But sometimes, honey...

Z-Girl: I don't wanna hear it. If you so much as insinuate that I threaten you, I'll slap you silly.

Z-Boy: Hee.

Z-Girl: I love you, honey.

Z-Boy: I love you, too.

As we were heading home from the ER...

Z-Boy: Honey...

Z-Girl: Yup.

Z-Boy: Thank you for making me laugh in there.

Z-Girl: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. Hee. That was kind of awesome. You know what?

Z-Boy: What?

Z-Girl: I really didn't check DNR.

Z-Boy: Well, I fucking hope not!

PS- Please forgive gratuitous use of the word 'honey'. He was all injured and shit.

Little Shits and Love...and Worry...

Once upon a time, I was little. I bet my Mom wished I'd never grow up. When I look at this picture of myself, I'm compelled to imagine my own not yet conceived children. Damn potential little shits, all strutting their stuff with a fair bit of respect for their Mom, but not enough to live by her word for the rest of their lives. Little pieces of my heart outside of my own chest cavity, experimenting with dangerous substances and falling in and (hopefully) out of love with assholes.

I'm just dying to have kids, but I'm frightened by the prospect of my kids not being kids anymore. I know that eventually, any babies I have will fucking hate me when they're teenagers, because damn straight, I'll know when they're high. Can't slip that shit by me. But, it will only be because I fucking love them that I'll be the pain in the ass Mom who is always up their ass wanting to know their friends' parents' phone numbers. Same as my very own pain in the ass Mom and Dad.

I don't know how the hell they did it. And, while I'm on the subject of Moms and Dads, I'd like to thank mine for forbidding me to hang out with those Riverside boys. I was pissed off, and even snuck out to cruise around with them one night, only to sneak back home and thank my lucky stars I was forbidden to hang out with that lot of assholes.

I worry that someday someone will throw a hoagie or a TV remote at my precious grown up baby's head, or tell them that they're crazy, only to have them believe that they are. I'm sure they will be; at least a little bit, because the apple doesn't fall far from the kooky tree.

But still. I'm a bit frightened about the whole offspring gig. I just know that they're going to break my heart a little bit.

Feeling Hoarse? Go Suck a Zube.

I've been on a mission, and am sad to say that it has not been accomplished. I'd heard about these throat lozenges called Zubes and managed to find a website that sells them. Success, you might say, but no.

The original packaging had the slogan, "Feeling Hoarse? Go Suck a Zube." The idea of finding a photo of the old package just tickles me because, well, I mean come on! Go suck a Zube! How fucking funny is that? Hee. Anyway, the website states, "For relief from sore throat, cough and cold symptoms, suck Zubes medicated lozenges." That makes me giggle a little bit, but it's nothing knee slapping or anything.

If any of you all EVER come across a picture of Zubes lozenges with the old packaging, you have to PROMISE that you'll pass a photo along to me. In return for your kindness I will, ummm, relieve your sore throat! Hah! Perfect.

Thank you.

Updated April 22, 2010

Found it!