Washer Woes.

My phone rings this morning as I'm getting ready for work.  It's Sears.  They've graciously put me "First" on their list. 

Yippeeee.

The guy arrives and not only does he look like he stepped fresh from the pages of "America's Most Wanted," but he smells.  Like ass.  Like a large, stinky ass. 

I take him downstairs and tell him what's wrong with the stupid washer. 

His response:  "You need to change your detergent.  You need high efficiency."  That - I can take.  His next comment - not so sure.  "Yeah - you need to rip out this wall.  It's too close to the washer.  Makes it hard to work on."

"You want me to rip out a wall?  In my laundry hole?"  I'm not appaled at the idea.  I've had it a few times myself. However, I'm appalled that the repairman would suggest it instead of - I dunno - FIXING MY DAMN WASHER. 

I laugh and walk off to the tv room.

While I'm watching an episode of "Charmed" (there's NOTHING on tv at 8 am!) I can hear him muttering loudly...

"I hate this! Hate this! Wall... Hate this!"

"Argh!  Cats! Stupid cat.  I hate CATS!"

On and on he complained and bitched as he worked on my ill washer.

"Hey!  HEY!"  he bellows to me from the laundry hole.  "HEY!  You wanna run a broom or something back here before I push it back in?"  I can hear that he thinks I should hop up and do his bidding.  However, I'm offended.  So what if my laundry hole is gross?  So what if the back of my washer is filled with dirt?  I will not be judged by this man.  This stinky man. 

"Nope - I'm good."

"AAgh." was his response. 

So that's my morning so far.  I'm supposed to be heading into work.  But I can't bring myself to leave my nice warm couch and head for the door. 

Tempted to play hookey.

Tempted to "forget" to go in.

Tempted to call in and tell 'em I pulled my gallbladder while lugging on heavy files that I wasn't supposed to be tugging on in the first place. 

Guess the deviishness from yesterday is still hangin' on...  :)

Devil's Food or Me?

I went to the local donut store to get a dozen donuts for my co-workers this morning (and so I could eat three and not look like a total pig) and how am I rewarded for my niceness?

 

1.  My total came to $6.66.  What the hell is with this recurring number?  Is someone(thing?) trying to tell me something?

2.  I am told to go in the conference room and "catalog boxes of files." 

I'm so mad right now that I'm turning red.

Blood red.

Like the devil.

I think I could rock me some horns... 

Cool Beans, dude... Coooool beans!

As I'm driving to work this morning - I see the most unusual thing.  A woman with bright red toenails is driving her minivan with her foot hanging out the window.    Not only was it too cold to drive with one's bare piggies waving in the breeze - it pretty much guarantees that someone in another car is going to get mesmerized by the stupidity of this woman.  And, while under the piggies' spell the other driver will rear-end idiotic foot fetish woman.  Thus teaching the woman with the breeze-lovin' feet a lesson by having to painfully remove a steering wheel from her nether regions.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand - I slept like a rock last night.  If rocks only sleep in thirty minutes intervals, that is.  So needless to say this morning when I tumbled into the bathroom and began my morning ritual of face scrubbing - I wasn't paying much attention to my actions.  And when I flung the glasses from my face in a fit of four-eyed fervor - I hear a "clunk" and then squinted at my glasses.  Somehow I had managed to knock the lens into a knob and remove a chunk of glass from the left lens. 

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!" I screamed at the ceiling, the burnt-out bulbs and the dirty carpeted floor.

"Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr?"  Phoebe responded, ignoring my plight and circling her nearly empty food bowl.

Dejected I plopped in the floor and wrestled my contacts into my eyeballs while Phoebe made out with my hairbrush.

Luckily for me - my warranty on my glasses was good for one year.  Unluckily for me - it ran out on the fifteenth. 

Sensing my distress and slight Hulk-green tinge, the saleslady took my frames and went to call her "lens guy" who not only offered to overlook the year warranty and get me a new one - no charge.

After work, I plan on making the day better by going to Borders Bookstore - but I hate to go without a coupon.  Something about NOT getting 10% or 20% off just really bugs me.  It's like going to Payless when they're NOT having BOGO - 'tis just WRONG.  So -if anyone out there has a spare coupon and wants to send it to me - feel free:  h0llyk911@aol.com. 

I promise I'm good for it.  I'll even mow your lawn. 

If you show me how to work a lawn mower...

Irony, Cosmic Interference or Just Really Damn Funny?

I just went to my vampire blog and saw that the number count had hit - well - an interesting sequence of numbers...

ahahahaah!

Maybe my grandmother was right about me after all...

 

 

Are my Eyebrows on Fire?

I'm so mad right now that I'm sure there is a wee chance that my eyebrows may burst into flames.   Which is sad because I have quite lovely (if not slightly lopsided) eyebrows. 

Last night - it happened.

I was watching "Heroes" with my sister and grandmother (whom I was mostly ignoring due to her condemning me to hell for "devil worshipping" aka "Harry Potter") when I decided to go check on my tiny load of laundry.  I pop up from my recliner (not easy to do since it refuses to unrecline unless I flop my legs down like a crazed gymnast) and saunter back to the laundry hole and - it's f'd up AGAIN!

The stupid piece of electronic crap-pile is flashing at me "Ob" "Ob" "Ob". 

I cautiously lift the lid, careful to pull my head away should the gremlin pop out and want something to suck on, and peer into the murky depths.  It was filled half way with sudsy water, drowning Polo shirts, some underwear and a few t-shirts including my beloved "Barbie dumped Ken."

I stuck my arm in the bin and prayed that I had not accidentally been transported to the twilight zone where Washing Machines transported unsuspecting owners to an alternate universe during the spin cycle.  I grabbed some things and swished them around, thinking I could trick the monster within to stop  flashing me the dreaded "Ob" "Ob" "Ob."

Putting the lid back down I pushed "START" and waited.  The clock dropped to 23 minutes and I could hear the water drain.  And then the clock went to 24. And then to 23.  

I will not share with you the string of curse words that fell from my mouth at this point.  Just know that it was long, profane and a bit twisted.

I decide to call Sears - much to my Husband protests.  

So I talk to Alex - who not only speaks English but it may even be his native tongue!  Pleased, we laugh and joke about the teeny "8 to 5" window I'm given and then he surprises me by saying they have an opening tommorow (today). 

Well, blow me down.  THAT will never happen again!

There's a reason for that.

As I'm perched by the door this morning at  9 AM I get a call from Sears:

"Are you the one waiting for a repairman?" he says.

"Yes, yes I am!"  I'm happy.  Surely they're cruising down my lane as we speak, decked out in their little white outfits and blue and white van. 

"I was calling to let you know that we don't have anyone in your area today, but do have appointments for Friday or Monday," he said.

I'm stunned.  "B-b-but, the guy on the phone, Alex! Alex said that you had an appointment today!" I stammered.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he said unapologetically.

"So... there's no one in the area and I took the day off of work for nothing?" 

"Oh, you shouldn't have done that!   We will call you on - Friday? Okay - Friday and then you can just meet us at your house.  That way - you don't have to take off work," he said. 

If there was a way to make someone's head explode just by sheer will - vengence would have been mine at that point.

"Okay."  He had me by the proverbial balls - I had no leverage.  What was I supposed to do?  Threaten to NOT use my broken washer in protest?  Boycott Kmart?  Worse yet, boycott Sears?  No - I would never be allowed to do that.  Harry and Craftsman are like Romeo and Juliet - in love - but doomed to do harm to each other...

Sigh...

In the meantime - anyone got any rope I can borrow?

For what? Umm... For a clothesline.  Yes... a clothesline....

                                                 

Synapses misfired. No Synopsis will prevail...

I'm trying to write a synopsis to send to publishers to convince them that my writing will be the next big thing.  I have to convey a certain sense of confidence, humor and a way with words that will make all in the publishing world quiver in their sensible loafers.

Here is what I have so far:

SUPER BUNNY;  A Tail of Trials and Tribulations

 

 

 

                        This is my synopsis. Please publish my book.  It’s fun.   And it’s –um- cool and stuff.  Please publish it with a cute cover.   And pay me some money so that I can quit my horrible job and live off of royalties for awhile. At least two weeks.  Maybe three. Thank you.

 

Yup. I'm shooting for a print date of two-thousand-never!

 

yippppeeee!

UGH.

Things With Bite

I am nearing the end of my journey with Kat Freeman - she has maybe two or three more blogs in her until the end of her blogging career and - maybe even her life!  Go here to check out the latest installment!

I've really enjoyed the vampire journal thing - but it's really hard to come up with new storylines after you impregnate the lead character with Satan. 

Sigh.