Helping Hands and Not so Helpful Butts

My job tonight as Harry and my future bro-in-law lifted, grunted and strained to get a 20th Century tv stand up a flight of 19th Century stairs, was to keep the sensory challenged siamese from getting under foot.  So I scooped him up, plopped him on my chest and nuzzled his sweet little head with my chin.   We stayed in this position for about five minutes before Silver decided I had soiled his fur by merely touching it with my greasy human chin. So he did that really cute thing where the cat licks their paw and then rubs it over their head and face in the most adorable fashion.  Only I was really close to his face so I kept getting smacked in the cheek and face with the fast and furious paw. 

In between swipes at his own noggin' (and mine) he would pause to lick his grey arm - and breathe on me.  Now, I don't know how many of you have cats who are on special vet food for high blood pressure but lemmie tell you.  It smells like butt. Fishy butt.  So not only was I getting cold-cocked by a slimy paw every three seconds, it was followed up shortly after with a fishy butt smell that made my eyes water.  

Finally I heard the crash upstairs and the shattering of glass and my dad yelling "Oops! I did that! I broke it!" so I knew it was time to go. I slowly deposited Silver into his/Dad's recliner and headed for the door.

"What broke?" I asked my husband as I gulped in the fresh outdoor air in the backyard.

"A long florescent light.  Do they even have florescent lights?"

"No," I said.  

"I didn't think so..." We headed home with Harry feeling good about helping his in-laws and further cementing his title as "favorite" and me, well, I just kinda smelled like fish butt.

But it all works out in the end... Right?

 

                                               

                                                                  Silver, circa 2006!

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Can you Keep a Secret???

So my sis just called me because one of her friends was upset that my sister posted something on her MySpace page that released information that the other friend did not want released about her ex-relations.

Did you follow that?

Nah - me neither.  The way I figure it is - generally speaking - all information obtained in any given relationship is fair game if the relationship goes bust and produces a comparable mushroom cloud in its wake.  I mean, if no one was allowed to talk about their exes then where would all the tell-all books be? How would we know all the stuff that we never wanted to know (but kinda did) about celebreties and ex-presidents?  And if any of my exes were interesting enough to warrent the spilling of their secrets on the World Wide Web - I'd probably do it. And laugh all the way.  However, none of my relationships pre-Harry were really worth any more than a passing poke (take that how you'd like) and although each ended badly and each ended in a different way I still didn't have any ammo worthy of World War III.

However, that being said, the reason that this chicky was mad was because the spillage involved a guy who dumped her, broke her heart and then danced upon it like a crazed Swing Dancer from the mid-nineties.  If anyone has a right to be mad - then aren't the ones who are dumped, duped and generally dicked over guaranteed a right to smear the other one in the relationship?

Am I wrong?  I mean, of course, what goes around comes around so if the dumpee posts a pic on myspace of the dumper (hee hee) wearing nothing but an elephant-face thong and a come-hither pout then the dumpee should not be surprised to then find a picture of herself wearing, well, nothing and smiling at all the internet clickers.

So that's my rant - further proving the point that "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned"... and with ready access to the internet.

                                          (Me, circa 1996 with a smaller waist  and with Unworthy Man #1; Unworthy Man #2 showed up two years later and lasted for about a year before being squashed out by Hubby #1  hee hee - I mean Hubby.)

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July: How I am Glad to See you Go...

July has been an eventful month. 

 I found out that one can injure one own's self just by entering a car and flinging one's hand over their head like a deranged and plump ballerina. And then, that same person will be surprised when their knuckle skin is then dangling from the uber-sharp cd in their visor in a seemingly mocking fashion.  

Also, if one goes to the dentist and finds one's self at the mercy of an eighteen year old dental hygenist who insists on poking one's gums while retelling the story of her perfect life and perfect teeth and perfect hair and then, and only then, will she pause, sit back on her mobile stool and say with disdain, "Man! You're spitty! You have a lot of spit!" then that same person will realize that rock bottom is just as jagged as she'd originally thought.

Finally, when one finds herself sitting at a table with her loving husband and even more loving granny-in-law and this same female is on the brink of a PMS-inspired melt-down then it is not advisable for the hubby and granny to get into a toddler-esque squabble over who is right and who is wrong on a particular subject.   "No, I didn't, Harry!" "Meme! You did!  I was there!"  "Well, I don't remember it!" "Yes, you do!"   And really - is it any surprise that this same female who is trying to ignore the eye twitch in her left socket and the steak knife clutched in her right hand finally, and semi-quietly, yell "THIS IS NEITHER THE TIME NOR THE PLACE TO HOLD SUCH A DISCUSSION! CAN WE PLEASE JUST FOCUS ON DESSERT???"  And then to have her loving husband and even more loving granny-in-law to look at her as if SHE were the one with the sanity issues before they then launched into the dessert discussion: "I haven't been here in a year!"  "Yes, you have, Meme - you came with us on my birthday!"  "Why, I did not!  It's not on my calendar!"  "You did!  You came with us! And we went home and had cake!"

Welcome to my July...

 

OH - and I forgot to mention how the "Spitty" comment was quickly followed up with "You still have your wisdom teeth?  Oh - we'll need to get those out..." And then they told me to call this Oral Surgeon guy and schedule my appointment that is 15 years overdue.  Sure.  I'll get right on that since I've obviously not put this off for any amount of time in the past or anything... Trust... it's a funny thing...  :)

Flames of Love

Warning: This entry is not for the faint of heart. Or for the heartily faint.   This blog post deals with real issues of carelessness, frivolity and one case of near-death maiming of a well-liked body part. 

Still reading?

All right - but it's your own eyeballs that may need a'scrubbin':

 

The other day, in the bright and shiny very inviting aisles of Target I purchased a $20.00 bottle of lubrication for one's nether regions.  The commercials were intriguing as they promised "Yours + Mine" would equal any number of earth-shattering endings. And me, being the adventurous sort was ready to try it.  Oh, who am I kidding - I was really just hoping that "Yours - Mine" would equal instant o-gasms. No fuss, no muss and no sweaty, tangled hair to deal with afterwards.

Sunday night, as midnight looomed and the workday steadily approached like a beacon in a cubicle-clad nightmare I leaned over my husband and said - "So, c'mon - let's do it."

This was my sexy-talk way of asking for a round of coital bliss followed by watching the rest of "Iron Chef." That last part was implied, of course.

"Wow, honey.  You sure do know how to make a guy feel special..."  Harry muttered as I poked at his man panties.  Which, of course, what he was really saying was "Oh, yeah, baby, let's do it!  And then watch Bobby Flay win the Blue footed Chicken challange."

"Yay! You're ready!"  I exclaimed, kinda amazed that he was able to keep a straight face, much less anything else, as I hovered around him like a spacecraft armed with the bottle of "Yours."  I unceremoniously dumped the contents on him and flopped back on the bed. 

"My turn!"  Harry slowly ambled toward me and - emptied half the bottle.  Some got on the intended area.  The rest just soaked into the bed.  

"That feels - weird."  No - it didn't feel weird.  It felt - burning.  But I didn't want to tell Harry that. I mean, I had already been dubbed horribly unromantic by my hubby so the idea of telling him that our very expensive lubrication was not only enducing waves of panic from his wife but that she was also on FIRE!

And that's when it happened.  "Yours" met "Mine" and I can tell you that the product lives up to it's promise of a night you will never forget because I'm positive Harry will never forget me screaming "OH DEAR GOD! IT FEELS LIKE BEN GAY! ON MY PRIVATE REGIONS!  BEN GAY - IN BAD SPOTS!!!!"

Or the sight of me waddling from the bed, each rub of my thigh causing more flames to erupt like a 1970's drapery and hiking one leg up on the sink and trying to wipe away the hurt with a tiny white washcloth. 

When that didn't work I grabbed the spray bottle that we keep on the basin and started spritzing myself with it.   It was like trying to put out an inferno with a squirt gun - and all the while Harry's leaning in the doorway, naked and noticeably NOT on fire while I continue to do everything but stop, drop and roll away my pain.  

"Who told you about this stuff, anyway?" he asked as I dove into the shower and directed the head downward. 

"Summer did!  She said it was great!" I poked my head out of the shower and said "I hate her."  

She later said that she had actually not tried KY's "Yours + Mine" before but thought it looked fun.   And I, being the lovely sister that I am, offered her our leftovers.

After all, all's fair in love, war and not-so-personal lubricants.

 

                                     

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Nuke it, Baby!

                                

That, my dear friends, is what happens when you THINK you are setting the timer on your microwave and are, instead, setting the microwave, on high power for FIFTEEN MINUTES. 

I kept noticing an odd smell. 

A horrible, putrid, chocolate-tinged smell but I plundered on, posting feeds on pageant forums about the upcoming Pumpkin Festival and Hot Dog Festival galas (oh yeah - I'm lookin' for a Hot Dog Queen!).  

Finally I popped my head up and looked over the top of my lap top to see the microwave lit up like a Christmas tree and a poor, defenseless, giant cupcake - shut up in the microwave for safe keeping, positively sizzling on the top rack. 

I ran to the microwave and tossed the plate from the unit to the sink in one un-Holly-like-graceful gesture.   I ran water over it and gave myself the first ever steaming cupcake facial. 

And then I took a picture.  Of course.

And what has this ordeal taught me? 

That a leftover cupcake is a dangerous cupcake.  :)

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DR. HORRIBLE should be WONDERFUL!

Captain Hammer, the hero of "Dr. Horrible's Sing-along Blog" is now in comic-form for all to see! (Sometimes you'll have to hover your mouse on the lower right corner of the "comic" to get to the button that says "next page" - just keep clicking it will move on -promise!).

                                         

Soon enough the webisodes will be posted and we'll be able to see and, dare I say it?  Sing along, too!

Here's the details for those who care - and for those who don't - shame on you!

Creator Joss Whedon has announced the "air" dates for Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog.  The episodes will air on the official website drhorrible.com as follows:

• Part 1 - Tuesday July 15
• Part 2 - Thursday July 17
• Part 3 - Saturday July 19

These episodes will "air" online only until July 20.

Following that they will be made available for download at a "nominal fee" and in the near future available to buy on a very special DVD "with the finest and bravest extras in all the land".

Now it's time to spread the word far and wide to all the corners of the interweb.  Grab some banners from the official site and post them everywhere you go - and be sure to cover those places people wouldn't normally hear about this.

This is your chance to play a part in changing the face of the entertainment industry forever.

Joss Whedon: "[Do] what you always do, peeps! What you're already doing. Spread the word. Rock some banners, widgets, diggs… let people know who wouldn't ordinarily know. It wouldn't hurt if this really was an event. Good for the business, good for the community –communitIES: Hollywood, internet, artists around the world, comic-book fans, musical fans (and even the rather vocal community of people who hate both but will still dig on this). Proving we can turn Dr Horrible into a viable economic proposition as well as an awesome goof will only inspire more people to lay themselves out in the same way. It's time for the dissemination of the artistic process. Create more for less. You are the ones that can make that happen."

How cool is that?!

I'm giddy.

Which is better than my mood yesterday afternoon when I found myself sitting next to the crotchety ol' muppets from the balcony of "The Muppet Show" and downwind from the person who decided that deoderant was really not on the agenda for the day.  Or the week.  Maybe the month.   But I still enjoyed "Hancock" - even with my sweater pulled up to my eyeballs!

Today was spent doing important tasks like internet surfing and baking giant cupcakes.  Yes.  You read that right. Cupcakes of Giant Proportions. Some assembly required as you bake the tops separately from the bottoms but still, it was fun. Harry is never happier than when I'm baking.  No, really. I could be standing in our bedroom with a duster in one hand and the vacuum  in the other and his response would be "Oh. You went with 'cleaning', huh?  Where're my cookies?"  

Okay - it's getting late and I still have oodles to do (total lie - I'm going to www.x17online.com to see who is boinking who in Hollywood - cuz I'm that shallow) and  I'm still a bit traumatized from my Wal-mart trip earlier in which we followed a lovely Jaguar up the hill with its WV hunting plate on the back and, no doubt, going in to cash some food stamps in on a scorpion-tainted watermelon.  Yup - only in my town...

 

Bob's - Sucks.

I just had to listen to Bob Evan’s hold music that said things like “Sip back and enjoy our new iced coffees –they’ll have you saying – ‘cool beans’!” and “Summer break is rarely a ‘break’ at all.”

I then had to call corporate where the receptionist was rude and cut me off after, what I can only guess, was my five word minimum. 

 

Please go to Bob Evan’s website and complain for me.   Just in general. About anything. 

Avenge me!

J

How to Get Hurt

I’m not sure if this will work or not – but I have to share the story of “How I Hurt my Hand While Entering my Vehicle.”

That’s right.

I hurt my hand while trying to get in the car. Now, I’d love to share the story of how I decided to roll down the window and enter via a running leap a la Dukes of Hazard, but this wasn’t the case.

I opened my door and, for some unknown reason, flung my left hand toward the ceiling when getting into the driver’s seat.  

And scraped off my knuckle.

I was bleeding and staring with a horrified expression at the piece of skin that is dangling from my cd holder.

  “O’Brother Where Art Thou?”  held a thin stripe of my pale D.N.A. on its shiny side.   

I may have even cussed – loudly – in the parking lot of my crowded place of work.  

 

So now that I am back at work, a cheap band-aid smacked over the spot onmy knuckle and a surly expression on my freckled face I will remember from now on that when one enters a vehicle it’s best to not flail about like a fish out of water.

 

Lesson learned.  For now.

 

 

Picture this, Huntington, 2008 or so...

Now that I'm feeling perkier - it's Picture time! 
Some recent  (and not too recent) pics that MUST be shared!

Harry made me a book from him and Phoebe for our anniversary.  I made him this:
and ended up more than a little rainbow-colored by the end of the night!    But he loved it- and - heck - I found out that I can actually draw a car!   A CAR!   And it looks purty darn good if I do say so myself.  :)


    I love Blenko glass.  Say it with me "Taste the Rainbow!"


Blenko shark's teeth!  Cool! Yeah - we bought one.  :)


I got new glasses!  Yup  - so sis plucked them from my face and declared "Man!  You're blinder than me now!" with glee.  Gee, thanks sister-who-is-now-dead-to-me.   That's okay though - she stood up to see how she looked in them and promptly clotheslined herself  on the top of the table's umbrella! 

Pot Pals! Now on sale at your craft store!   No more buying it from skanky men  and women who consider hygiene an optional part of life!
Yay!


Harry Simpson!



I'm doing much better - thanks to all who wrote to me to make sure I was alive.
I am!
And just in time for cookouts galore!
Anyone got any cool plans for the Fourth?  Just blowin' crap up and expanding your waistline?  Me too!!!!!

:)

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