Me: Look at these cute shirts I got for the girls for St. Pat’s Day!
Companion: Those are cute.
Me: We have to make sure they marry Irish men.
Companion: Why?
Me: So the bloodlines can say pure.
Companion: As a Jew I feel compelled to run away from you now.
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.
Eight a.m.? Time to Be Confrontational.
Me: Are you going to start doing the dishes after dinner again, or what?
C: Hmm? Yeah, that’s lame. I won’t do that anymore.
Me: What? The dishes are lame and you’re done with them?
C: Nooooo….
Me: Well, if that’s the case, I will enjoy eating Thai food every night.
C: …AND I will enjoy having you make it every night.
Dammit. Ninja pwt!
Me: 0
C: 1
I Guess I Haven’t Posted About PMS in Oh, a Month or So.
Me, getting out of the shower: Look at me. Loooooook at me. LOOK. Do I look different to you?
C: Er….
Me, squeezing fatty parts: NO, SERIOUSLY. Do I look different?
C: Okay. Well, I can remember a time…when you looked…heavier?
Me: Hmm.
Draw!
Well, bonus points to my fella for style.
ADDITIONALLY, please show me your opinions on etiquette.
Scenario: I invited the neighbors to a little holiday open house thingummy we want to throw. They accepted, which went like this.
Them: Oh, we’d love to drop by. But we have guests in from out-of-town this weekend. So we’ll just bring them!
Me: Uhh…okay?
Question: What is a better response than “Duuuh okay”? After I went into the house, I thought I could have said something like, “Well, we would like to invite people we know.” Is that too much? Of course, I won’t know some of my guest’s dates, but that’s different. These neighbors are coupled up already and so will be bringing bonus mystery people. Please advise for the future.
Actually, forget it. I am not throwing parties anymore. Goodbye, cruel social world, hello cruel nunnery.
In my dealings with people under fifty I am starting to think that all the time I spent devouring etiquette books while babysitting was not time well spent, but instead the makings of an insufferable GIT.
Also, I very much enjoyed this post by a professor friend.
“The bus was really slow. It sucked. There was a crazy guy on it,” he said, stabbing roasted beets with his fork.
“What kind?” I said.
“He was talking about Regan.”
“Okay, like ‘good old days’ or ‘bad old days?” I said.
“Like ‘bad old days,” he said.
“Hmm,” I said.
“There was a ton of people, so I decided to talk to him. He asked me what I did, so I said I write algorithms for controlling cruise missiles.”
“HUR.”
“Yeah, that shut him up.”
I knew I loved him the first time I caught him fucking with people. It’s like me, but with peens. I need to tell a story about how I fucked with someone for two years, but that will have to wait until tomorrow.
PS, I tried to link to a story about me convincing someone on the bus I was colorblind, but I think that got et. Now I have another assignment! Currently I am trying to convince some Canadians that plasma banks are hot pick-up places in the States. It’s totally working.
As my fourth grade teacher said, there is NO EXCUSE FOR ME OR MY BEHAVIOR.
ALSO, will you please tell me if there is some kind of freaking academic term for “fucktards who use their children’s names as online handles” e.g., “Patricksmama” or “NayNaysPoopswabber.” I am striking out. Thanks, ilu.
You know what’s good for a case of the “mlehs?” Finishing some shit you’ve been putting off. I saw a recipe for making a vintage medicine cabinet into a jewelry cabinet with velvet lining and painted whichever way you want, which is fine, but everyone knows the best color to paint something is gold, like chicken planters, my bed, and my old living room with the red walls and gold trim.
I put it aside at the end of the summer because I borked some of the lining process and got all grumpity. But my friend was here yesterday with her knitting, and it inspired me to get it out. After hours of searching, my tired unorganized ass found my glue gun, and I fixed the lining and glued some Catholic religious medals that I scored at the Fremont Market to the front, around the mirror. Today we went down to Pike Place and I got about 50 milagros, and I glued those in the places where the religious medals weren’t. It is viva la Mexico ftw.
I even got a boobies milagro. I have never seen one of those.
“They are for warding off breast cancer, or for breast health,” the woman at the store said.
“Or maybe for fighting gravity,” I said.
I took pictures of the cabinet in progress all summer, and they are scattered through my photo folders. I want to take a picture of my finished cabinet, and make a gallery out of it. BUT, I have somehow lost my battery charger, so I am saving my last bit of juice for like when the aliens come. I will pick up a new charger soon.
You know what’s even better than hot glue gun burns? Do you? Freaking out and waving your hand around and having the glue dry on your burn. Now I have a blister under a glue glob. It’s like Science under Glass. Is my finger going to fall off? I hope not. It’s my special finger I reserve for choad poking.
Figure 1
Hey! We went to the beach. It was pretty nice. We stayed in a cabin with a kitchen, which is good for containing naughty babies, and also for making pancakes in your pajamas. It was the Kite Festival on the Long Beach Peninsula, which is pretty fricking fun. No one at this house has a particular boner for kites; we just went because August is usually the most reliable time for a vacation. And I think it only rained two or three times, so SCORE.
ONE
“Ah, I wish I didn’t have to go to work.”
“I know. Let’s think about what it would be like if we weren’t too tired to have sex.”
“Mmm.”
“Mmm.”
Figure 1: Nut Tort by Companion.
TWO
“I can’t stop looking at that dolphin on your hip.”
“Oh…Reilly?”
“It’s hypnotizing me!”
“Ha.”
“You are dolphin-safe. That means I can eat your tuna without worry.”
Figure 2: Dolphins should probably still fear me.
“HEY! Why are you kicking me, woman?”
“Unless you’re making some kind of reference to me being a manufacturing plant, I don’t think you should talk about eating my tuna,” I said.
“Oh. Whoops.”
Figure 3: My new toddler smuggling operation is unstoppable.
THREE
“Oh noes!”
“What?” he said.
Figure 4: Hella limoncello.
“I forgot to get some nipple stickers to smother the pepperoni!”
“Well…you could always use the labels you used for the limoncello.”
“That would be friendly.”
Figure 5: He’s a geenyus, I tells ya.
Webcomics I am enjoying today:
Reading Inverloch to Franny.
What’s This? …probably only of interest if you have played The Sims 2. I mean, if you’ve played, even the title brings lulz. The writer, I think, will only get better.
It reminds me of Ye Olde Playing with Dolls, when that was updated, which is funny even if you’ve never played.
Last night I was on the phone with Halo, which kept me up too late but was some stress-relieving, pee-inducing fun times. I have long maintained that when I sell five books and am in a position to never have a “real” job ever again, unless I choose to, I will get some rad knuckle tattoos.
“You mean five books, or five copies of one book?” Halo asked. Hur hur hur, Halo.
“And I am going to get some of them horn implants,” I said, with the sole purpose of needling Companion, who was egregiously eavesdropping under the pretense of making quiche crusts. This prompted a panicked look from him. He quickly returned with this frantically hand-written note:
This is a threat? Companion, have you even seen the inside of my Adult Drawer? You should have threatened to take away quiche.
I was reading a book on baby care and advice because a publisher has asked me to do book reviews. I got too tired so I slammed the book and clicked off my lamp. This is usually the cue for Companion to do the same.
He turned towards me in the dark.
“I remember worrying I was going to do everything wrong the first time I spawned, and this book is totally bringing it back,” I said.
“I was worried before Strudel, too,” he said. “Like when she first came out I used to worry about her diaper. It would hang all funny. Now I just slap it on in three seconds.”
“This book is saying that you need a Diaper Genie,” I said.
“Yeah?”
“I realized that the first time I used one was a couple of weeks ago at Wonder Woman’s house. I asked her where I could change Strudel, and she told me to go into the office. She has a changing table too!” I said. We ghetto, so we change our kids on the floor. I think it’s a product of being poor with the first spawnlet and having a minuscule house. I had one of those cheap vinyl-covered foam pads for the explosive-butt phase. I even bought mine used, but it still had the wrapper on it.
“Wow,” he said.
“I know! And I looked at that thing, and I realized I didn’t even know how to use it. I pushed the diaper down into its maw and I hoped for the best.”
“I think it’s okay that we just put them in the kitchen trash,” Companion said.
“Me too. Except for the poos, right?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Don’t you hate it when they’re little pills and they roll away….”
“…And you have to pick them up with your hands?”
“Well, I use a wipe,” I said. “But the temptation is always there. They look like clay. Maybe someday you’ll come home and I’ll be nuts and playing with the poo balls. Making poo birds.”
“If I come home and you are making poo birds, then I hope you will enjoy your new home in the backyard,” he said.
“You would kick me out if I made poo birds?”
“Mmm-hmm,” he said.
Well. I guess it’s important to have these relationship talks, so you know where you stand.
In Other News: Almost Asleep
“Can you make me sound more smarter in your blog?”
“More smarter? I’ll try.”