Author Archives: iasshole

The Late Shift

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Last night was restless. I heard Strudel shouting from the other room. I had that feeling like it was two-ish, because I was deeply groggy like I had been asleep for a while, and yet had not slept enough. She was shouting about a crazy man and sounded wide awake, so I popped in on her.

“There was a crazy man! And I want my mom and dad!” Strudel shouted, bug-eyed and sitting upright stiffly.

“Where was a crazy man?” I said.

“He was in your room, on one of your books,” she said.

I tried to think of which book was giving her the wigs. The cover of one of my magazines? Bill Buford’s vaguely Hitchcockian silhouette? A comic book?

“Pictures aren’t real, honey,” I said.

“I want to see my daddy.”

“Okay.”

“Tell him to go in here,” she said, as if I was a little stupid.

“Daddy’s asleep.”

“Please carry me, because I’m afraid of that crazy man.” Strudel held out her arms to me and I picked her up. She buried her face in my neck.

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To Live and Die in Rancho Asshole

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HA! Triumph. So I am a little atrophied from spending the last week ball-shaped, but I live. Nuts to frenemies who suggested I was pregnant or had leukemia. NUTS to them.

I hate getting sick, because then I am at the mercy of Companion and his extreme randomness. I should say that he means well, and he does a good job of taking care of me. But the kitchen is another story. It’s sort of like housekeeping roulette when he takes over.

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Dragon Ballz; or, I’m OK! STFU

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Hey,

So I have some kind of medical issue going on right now. I’m not contagious, or dying, I’m just out of it at the moment and have been for the last week or so. I’m sure I will be perky again as soon as I get the new insurance stuff squared away. I am saying this because I am not going to force myself to post and email seems to be a bit of a foreign concept. I am answering the phone, however, because it is within reach of my grasping claws.

The fever is making me want to say: I love you. Bring home toilet paper and a pineapple.

Because I Need Something to Do While Listening to Hall and Oates on Youtube

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Ice-T’s wife at an auto show or some such.

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Mrs. T, is that you? Coco T? Eh, someone told me once she had a last name. Would you really need one if you looked like this? (NO.)

Something is missing, though. Something like…five minutes of protochopping.

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Ah. The desert, serene and with pyramids and crap pasted in. EVOCATIVE, NO?

Something is missing from the desert, however, which I know because of my arid learnings. Or should I say something is only partly there.

AHA!

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That’s better. Now all the camels and their little toes can be friends.

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Oh well. At least butt cleavage is out of fashion again.

Awesome. She’s a repeat offender. Well, call me repeatedly AMAZED.

Soy un Perdedor

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I have the Ronettes stuck in my head.

“Beee my, be my babeee!”

“Why you saying ‘baby,’ mom? Why you putting cheese in the mac and cheese?”

“Because that’s what goes in mac and cheese. Cheese.”

“Why you making me mac and cheese?”

“Because it’s lunchtime and….”

“Why’s that man outside doing that?”

“I don’t…see a man.”

“A squirrel! Why that a squirrel?”

“Well, because….”

“Why I have a heart sticker?”

“Because the library gives them….”

“Why there’s more noodles?”

“Why’s it raining?”

“Because god hates us.”

WOW! I finally finished a sentence. GO ME. NAPTIME!

Ah, same shit, different year.

STOP and Pay the Ho Tax

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What I am thinking about today is that our insurance at the new job will cost 1100 dollars more than it would if we were married. Because it is SO much easier to slip off into the night if you’re unmarried with children than if you’re married with children. Hur.

How it went down:

“Sooo…you want to get married, then? It’s like fifty bone or something at the courthouse,” I said.

“Um…what? No. I mean, I would if you wanted to, I guess.”

“Well, no.”

“Oh, good,” he said, obviously relieved. “I know you are so proud of your slattern status and all.”

IT’S TRUE.

Secondly, did you make any resolutions? I have resolved to put pictures of myself up more (CAAAM WHORE) because sometimes I think I am hiding a little bit behind pictures of food or crafts or my kids, when this website is about ME. I get shy because it’s easier to make the words. So you get to spend more time with my goiter and third arm now, you lucky fockers.

I have also made a resolution to, now that my life is calmer and school is behind me, to start working toward my long-term goal to open a bed-and-breakfast. I decided I wanted to when I was 20, had some babies, had a divorce, and had like seven years of school instead. And now it is ten years later and I still want to open and bed-and-breakfast. I have resolved that I will make it happen by the time I’m 40, and I will not be sad if it happens sooner.

Current contenders for room themes are Presidents of the Twentieth Century (you know you want to stay in the Hooverville room)…and that’s it. Maybe Famous Serial Killers? That should bring in the CSI types.

I have never written that down before. That was nice.

Moar later. I have NYE pictures.

Man, Fuck The Permit, I Know Where Ima Park Tonight

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1. I was pushing eggshells into the maw of the sink when I remembered: I had the most horrifying dream about my teeth last night. I was wandering around one of those doctor’s office complexes that are like rambling warrens.

Why do they do that? Why do they want patients to feel lost and overwhelmed? Is it sneaky psychological intimidation or dissatisfied architects who wish they were designing museums instead of medical-dental? Do doctors think they are giant bunnies?

ANYWAY. For some reason I stuck whitening strips on my teeth while I wandered around looking for my babydaddy, who was there somewhere in a room. Then a timer dinged and it was time to take the strips off. I pulled and pulled, but they were a little stuck.

My teeth started crumbling apart like some kind of fragile candy. It felt like the butt end of candy canes when you suck them down to slivers and they just snap off. I started spitting teeth out into my hand to see if any could be salvaged. There was a whole one with a root, but mostly they were brown and crumbling.

I looked into a mirror at my brown crackly nubs. “Have I always been this ugly?” I wondered to myself. I kept licking them, worried I was going to cut my tongue. I pushed a door open and walked outside and the light was blue, like the light is in the spring sometimes.

My ex drove by in his boat of a car. “Have you seen Franny?” I clapped my hand over my mouth, closed my fingers over my tooth fragments with my other hand, and shook my head. He chit-chatted with me for a few more minutes and then drove on.

Then, of course, I started to worry about where Franny was. I dropped my teeth and said, “Oh, well, I will deal with this later.” I began looking for her and I woke up.

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An ESL Rendition for the Mentally Ill

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PHOK YEAH. I made some pho. It wasn’t like a pho hut’s, which obviously gets a discount on liquid crack. But it was eatable.

It was pretty cool. I had Companion grill the onions and ginger whole on the barbecue first, per the instructions.

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Then it was peanut butter marrowbone time. I didn’t know what to expect. I always see these little guys in the store, jolly and glistening, so I didn’t expect the smell when I opened the package. I felt dizzy, like I was going to pass out or experience an unholy ascension or something. Marrow is godly cow butter.

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