Happy Friday: Desperation Is A Cold Cup Of Coffee

This is Thursday's sad coffee cup. Why was my coffee cup so blue, you ask? Because our 18 1/2 year old microwave blew out Wednesday night (With sparks! Exciting!) and I couldn't reheat the coffee that was left inside her belly.

I know not having a microwave for all of 18 hours (That's right, not even a full day of inconvenience.) isn't exactly a hardship, but it was still irritating. And it was irritating that it was irritating. What's wrong with me? I boiled water on the stove all of three times: for hot chocolate, a bowl of oatmeal and coffee.

By that third bowl I was actually tired. And when that last tablespoon of my coffee got cold I thought Shit, what do I do now? I'd rather not drink it cold, but I don't want to throw it out either. I can't boil a tablespoon of coffee to heat it back up! It would get hot and immediately evaporate!

I ended up just putting the mug in the refrigerator with my tiny pool of coffee in the bottom. What did people do in 1950? Just drink that shit cold?

Oh, well. Now that HUBS and I have a new microwave we can all concentrate on some internet things...

1) How have I not heard about this until now?

2) Dying to have a bound book of all your twats...Uh, tweets, from twitter? These folks can do it.

3) Some style trends that need to die a much faster death.

4) I always knew FASHION was stupid.

5) A Pandora for YouTube videos? I'm already hooked!

6) Catch up on all the Shit Girls Say madness. I think my favorite is the parody Shit White Girls Say to Black Girls. Oh yeah. That's it!

I Just Realized We Should Have Known My Dad Was A Dick All Along

Me and my mom in the mid-1990s. I know I was in college, because OH MY GOD I LOVED THAT SHIRT WHEN I WAS IN COLLEGE!


Alright, I didn't just realize it. It's more like I realized it last Thursday. Here's what happened.

I started thinking about the one screenplay I've completed, which is mostly based on the things that actually happened when my dad walked out on PT (yes, that's my mom). I was going over some things and my mind landed on the fact that, in the screenplay, the dad character calls the mom character by a shortened version of her actual name. Which the mom happens to hate. This is directly taken from what really went on with my folks.

And then it hit me: No one who cares about someone would call that person by a name they dislike on purpose.

PT's name is Clementine. According to her, she's hated her name since birth. Because of that, no one ever calls her by it, she goes by Tina. But, the entire time I was growing up and right through their divorce, do you know what my dad called her? Clem.

I know what you're thinking, Well, that's not her full name. Here's the problem: PT HATED CLEM MUCH MORE THAN SHE HATED CLEMENTINE.

It was blatantly obvious. Every time my dad said her name, PT would cringe, grimace or roll her eyes a bit. There were even times when you could see her go from happy to disappointed when she heard his moniker for her.

What's even worse is that I can remember PT telling him, on many occasions when I was little, that she didn't want to be called Clem. But, what did he do? He kept right on calling her Clem.

What kind of person does this? Only an arrogant, selfish, uncaring DICK...That's who. How could I not have put this (as far as I'm concerned) critical bit of info together as evidence of his DICKness sooner?

Maybe it's one of those things where I was too young and too close to it. I knew PT hated what he called her and that it sucked that he did it anyway, but I had to get to 37 years old without having any contact with the man for 16 years to really piece together what his denial of her simple request meant: I DON'T THINK HE EVER CARED ABOUT HER. NOT REALLY.

And that makes me so sad for my mom, who spent 22 years in a marriage where she wasn't truly valued. I suppose the little things do matter a lot.

Dammit...now I'm crying.

Music Monday: Cake Is Good

Photo

Fueled by my period last Friday, I did something I'd never previously done before: I opened a box of cake mix just so I could eat it dry, right out of the pack.

I know this probably sounds disgusting to a lot of you. But, I tell you what, you get yourself a glass of ice cold water and a spoon and you will not (entirely) regret this decision. Dry cake mix is good, y'all.

If you empty the mix into a bowl and shake it around little clumps of the mix will form, making it easy to scoop up. I actually didn't discover this until I was living on my own. It might be because whenever I made cake as a kid I was supervised, and nothing gets in the way of unsanctioned shenanigans like adult supervision.

This whole thing wasn't as bad as it sounds, either. I was only able to eat about five teaspoons full before it got too sweet for me and I decided to just go ahead and make the damn cake. Which turned out awesome. (Idea: make Duncan Hines Pineapple Cake mix with pineapple juice and add pineapple tidbits to mix before baking. Then, serve hot with vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce. *drool*)

Now, on to some funny songs that'll help tighten your abs after eating too much cake!


I love me some Eartha, but her voice and disco just don't mix at all!






Take some time to watch more of his videos. He's hilarious!






Ok, this one isn't technically a music video, but it's still fun!