Just For This Week

In accordance with national "Acceptance of Having My Period" week, I've done mostly nothing by way of exercising. I did a couple of loads of laundry on Monday and Tuesday, so I went up and down the stairs a few times. And one day I did some wall push-ups 'cause I was feeling sluggish. But mostly, hell-to-the-no with actual, scheduled exercising.

And I'm just saying...feels pretty good.

By the way, this is a national occasion because if I were in, I don't know, Alabama, I'd still be avoiding physical activity.

That's right, baby.

Money Is Cool!

Due to my financial savvy, HUBS and I are now the proud owners of a $80.73 nest egg. I know! It's like, if there's an emergency now we won't even have to beg for change by the side of the road. We can totally plunk down three Jacksons and be like BOO YAH, BABY! Got it covered.

How about that?

Ick, Ick and More Ick

All right, this one ain't so bad.

Because of all the incidents lately with spiders, I was thinking the other day about all the stuff that freaks/icks me out. And since I love you guys, here's a list:

1) Bugs. By "bugs" I mean anything with more than four legs or less than two. We're talking spiders, centipedes, mosquitoes, dragon flies, worms, maggots, roaches and various other critters. Having said this, some of these are worse than others. I mean, if a cricket landed on my foot briefly I wouldn't like it, but I wouldn't exactly want to kill myself either. But, to be touched by, say, a cockroach? I'm dying just thinking aobut it.

2) Flying things. This is kinda part of #1, except that I have issues with anything with wings. Meaning? Lady bugs, butterflies, moths, birds of all ilk, and airplanes are included. And yes, I understand that butterflies are pretty and lady bugs are harmless (some folks even believe they bring good luck) and the occasional bird can be gorgeous. This does not change their "Holy God!" factor when I'm minding my own business and they suddenly start to circle.

3) Clowns. Let's not pretend that there's no evil under all that makeup. If you've read It by Stephen King or seen the movie...You know just what the fuck I'm talking about.

4) Snails. We came home a couple of night ago to find two of the little slime balls on our porch. Can you believe some people eat these things? How desperate for food do you have to be to see one of these slimy, stalk-eyed blobs and go "Fry it up, Frank. I can't wait for a cow to happen by anymore." Blech...

5) Squid and octopi. Again, people eat this crap. And get all excited about the ink! the ink! God, what is wrong with the world? I can see eating these when you had no choice, but now? Isn't there a McDonald's near you?

6) Raw or rare meat. This disgusts me so that, when cooking, I won't touch raw meat/fish/poultry. I mean it. I use knives, forks, whatever, but will NEVER EVER touch this stuff with bare hands. Also? How do reasonably sane people eat meat running through with blood? I'll tell you how. They. Are. Crazy.

7) Wet hair. If it's attached to your head, fine. If it's circling the drain or hanging off a towel...I'm dry heaving.

8) Sweat. For some reason there are folks who find sweaty people erotic or something. Well, let's get this straight: I don't care how good looking you are, if you're sweaty you stink and if you stink I want no part of you until you clean yourself up. Mmmm'kay?

9) Bodily fluids. No one needs details here, do you? Let me say, though, I don't know how parents do it. With the children and the diapers and the spit-up and the snot...God...Dry...Heave...

10) Dirty bathrooms. Oh Jesus, guys. I have seen some horrendous public bathrooms. Like when I went on a geology field trip in college to some state cave site. The bathroom was literally just a hole in the ground. And there was smoke coming up out of it. What? Really state park? This is the level best you can do? Or at some boardwalk in Florida when I was about 10. There were no stalls, and the ENTIRE BATHROOM (toilets included) was covered in graffiti and...other...things. My mom and I waited about two hours to pee that day.

He Loves Them More Than Me

Again with the critters.

HUBS and I took off for Target in Beesley (his yellow car) last night. I was driving and again I was fighting off a spider on my window. It was on the side-view at first and I tried to kill it, but missed. After rolling up my window and taking off, it wedged itself between the window and the little flap that keeps the window sealed.

Luckily, as long as we kept moving it stayed put. I was actually able to remain calm. There was minimal screaming and absolutely no crying. Yay, me! I mean, until I stopped the car in the parking lot at Target. Then I went insane.

citygirl: Ohhhhhhh, my God it's running get out and kill it get out and kiiiillll ittttt!!!!!!!!

HUBS: Ok, ok. Calm down, I need a napkin or something.

citygirl: AHHHHHHHHHCCKCKCKCKCKCK!! Moving running ACCCKCKCKCKCKAACACACACKKKKK!

HUBS: Alright, geez. I'm out...

Then, you guys, the unthinkable happened. HUBS had a very simple set of instructions: get out of the car, kill the spider. Um...he KNOCKED IT OFF THE CAR. With his precious napkin.

I'm like, what did you just do? You know what happened last week, how the hell do you not JUST KILL THE FUCKING SPIDER? HUBS actually watched it skitter off, to terrorize another day. I bet it crawled back onto his car. Why would it not? Nobody bothered to teach it a lesson, right?

Fine, HUBS. I see how you are. Just wait until the next time you're being attacked by wild dogs or something. Do you think you'll get any dog-killing power outta me? No sir. No sir, not at all...

Happy Birthday, P.T.!!

Mom, before me.

Today is my mom's birthday, you guys. She's 58 years old now, and can I just say again...I worry about her?

I know I've regaled you with tales of her taking care of my grandmother and, because of it, not really caring for her border-line-diabetic-high-blood-pressured self. But let me tell you what happened yesterday.

HUBS and I planned to see her Sunday to wish her a Hap-Happy and hand over some souvenirs we got from SC for her. I called to see what time would be good and suggested we bring some lunch over for her and the grandmom. Mom was enticed by the idea of Chinese food. She particularly wanted ham fried rice from the place we took all the parentals when they first met. Cool, right?

So, about a half hour before we left I tried calling in an order. Unfortunately, they weren't open for another two and a half hours. Ok, I thought, no worries. I'll call the place down the street that HUBS and I love. Except, they're not open at all on Sundays. As a last resort, I tried another Chinese place we like, but that's a bit out of the way...no go. Those fuckers weren't open either.

None of this was that big of a deal. I was upset that mom wouldn't get her fried rice, but I figured I would just call her and she was sure to want something else. Here's why I'm worried, you guys, my mom was nearly brought TO TEARS at hearing that she was not getting ham fried rice. I mean, holy shit, folks. How small does your world have to be to cry at the possibility of having to cook.

I tried to make it better. BBQ? No, might upset the delicate balance of my grandmother's limited diet. Burgers? We eat those too much. Pizza? I don't think she can chew it anymore, plus I just had one Friday. Then my mom nearly broke down: I thought for once I wouldn't have to cook or go get anything. I don't know what to do anymore. She's tired of everything I make and everything she can have.

Crap. Shit. Crap. Crap. Shit! Now I felt horrible for making a cool it's-your-birthday-tomorrow suggestion and wished I had never done it. Mom managed to recover by telling me to just get the Chinese from the mall (you guys have a Panda Express near you, right?). Which is exactly what we did, because dammit, mom was getting her fried rice!

I wish I could make it all better. But I really don't know how.

Red-Haired Temptress

Oh, God, y'all. I think I love Kathy Griffin. Have you ever watched My Life on the D List? Or seen her do comedy? Well, I never paid much attention to the woman until our honeymoon. HUBS was having an off day, not feeling particularly touristy and wanting to stay in the hotel and chill a bit. This was totally cool with me because a) it was a hot-ass bitch in South Carolina in July if you weren't under an umbrella on the beach and b) we don't have cable at home, so I finally had more than six channels of nothing to flip through.

In my rabid flipping I came upon a marathon of D List on Bravo. I was immediately taken by how goofy and honest she was. Although, if being on the D List in Hollywood gets you a fucking HUGE mansion like that...well, I think that might not be all bad. I bet Kathy has more than THREE closets in her house.

About a month after we got back from the vacay, I looked her up on You Tube and watched a marathon of her comedy specials. Freakin' hilarious. Then, a week ago Friday, I woke up at 4:15 in the morning to pee and couldn't get back to sleep. I started watching more D List on You Tube and guess what? I was transfixed. Get this, I literally spent NINE AND A HALF STRAIGHT HOURS watching her show. I only got up to eat and pee more. The only think that broke my stride was taking a shower at 3:30pm.

By the time HUBS got home around 6, I had already collapsed into the bed. All laughed out and ready for some serious sleep.

Why do you lure me with your devilish siren song, Kathy? WHY?