Undomesticated Me

It's Sunday.

It's after one pm and I'm - still in bed. 

To my right is a copy of "The Secret Supper" - a wonderful book (or so it's been touted) that, after 300 pages, I still have no clue what the point of it was. So, either I'm too dumb to "get it" or to smart to "fall for it."  Let's go with the latter to save my sanity, k?

To my feet is my ever-present heating pad (for my still aching side), my "Live in Love" tote bag (which harbors my present works) and a box containing a half-eaten pizza.  I feel like the typical recluse only I have more guilt than a person choosing to be inside on this gorgeous day.  Why am I feeling this way?  Because I just had to hike up the volume on the FoodNetwork in order to hear it over the lawnmower that my dear, overworked hubby is pushing around our front yard. 

I guess I should pry my legs from under my warm, toasty blanket and run a brush through my greasy hair to join my hubby in the "joy" of yardwork.

Sigh.

Wish me luck, no bug bites and that my hands shall not come into contact with : bugs, dirt, sweat, or plants of any kind.

I'm such a girl....

Fight or Flight or - Both?

What does one do when one is nearing thirty and still fighting against all odds to be an adult?  And what does this same one do if the idea of being an adult is so scary that it makes "Saw II" look like a Disney film?

Upon first hearing that old Britney Spears song (pre K-Fed) "Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman" I thought it was pop drivel.  Now?  I kinda get it. 

And now that I've found a link to a barefoot, white trash prima-donna with a weird flip-flop fetish - I'm going to bed to join my snoring hubby who crashed around 9:30, face-first in to our King bed after being mediator between me and my mother, who refuses to believe that neither my sister nor I are capable of making our own decisions.  Much less, the right ones.

I'm obviously annoyed right now.

Annoyed with wondering where a family unit ends and an individual begins. 

Annoyed with where my life is and really annoyed that my double chin seems to be growing a friend. 

So - I'm off to comfort eat a bag of bagels and a vat of cream cheese. 

I just hope that I am not found, 6am, passed out on the dirty white tile, crumbs trailing down my massive boobies and a cream cheese mustache to boot.

Sigh.

Do What You're Told... Or Else!

I just read this:

Meanwhile Katie Holmes is changing her first name to just Kate.

Tom said:

“Katie is a young girl’s name. Her name is Kate now she’s a child-bearing woman.”

I just got "icky man vibe" shivers.

Ugh.

Fat Girl in Little Car!!!

I drove my white corvette to work today - I was loving it, driving along, both hands on the wheel, knuckles white as I am dealing with being petrified that I'm gonna hit a bump or a tree or a car that I'm making myself a bit sick - but - I still love it.

I did have a particular thought jump out of the inner workings of my mind as I was cruising down Third Avenue this morning - how dissappointing for people to see this beautiful car, admiring the curves and the way it hugs the road and then seeing me, the quintessential "fat girl" behind the wheel.

I guess it could be worse - I could be an overly tanned, under-sexed, balding middle-aged man, holding on to my youth like a stick shift and straddling an engine that sputtered out years before the purchase of the vehicle in question.

'Cause, ya know, that would totally suck - and stuff...

HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND!

ps - How come you can eat with your fingers, but licking them in public after a messy treat of ice cream is considered rude???

I'm a Mechana-chick!

All day today I've had the peculiar feeling that this date was an important one. I reviewed my mental list of friend's birthdays, anniversaries and even wondered if there was something I "must see" on tv tonight.

Then, it hit me this morning as I sat down at my desk, (already bored off my ever-expanding ass): Today is my dating anniversary with Harry!

Six years!

We've been together four years shy of a decade.

It feels longer.

But in a good way - of course.

For example: I was parked on Main Street in Barboursville last night and was leaving. Merging into the flow of traffic, I flipped on my turn signal to make a right on to Central Avenue.

It began ticking like a bomb - fast and furious.

My tail light was out.

"Mother f'r." I thought to myself as I stared at my crazy flashing green arrow that was winking at me from my dash. Mocking me and my non-ability to let other motorists know my turning intentions!

Pretty odd coincidence that my turn signal stops working the week after Harry self-installed new clear taillights on my vehicle, dont'chathink?

At this point - I'm tired, covered in paint (long story) and pissed all the hell off.

Hopping out of my Escape, I turn on my emergency blinkers and walk to the back.

Sure enough - It's not working.

I can't even hurt Harry at this point - he's in Morefield, WV (Where is that? Hellifino.) so I have to fix it myself.

I took a page out my Daddy Dearest's book and, well, I hit it.

Hard.

I believe this is the proper method according to "Advance Auto's Guide to Car Repair."

If not - it should be - cuz it totally worked!

I laughed as the little yellow light sprang to life and started blinking in synch with its twin.

I called Harry on his cell: "You were sooo almost in trouble!"

"An Ode to Avoiding Work" by Holly K.

I'm so bored that my toes are asleep,

they dozed off while counting some fluffy white sheep,

you can hardly blame them for catching some z's,

my life is quite boring, if not quite a breeze.

 

I sit at a desk shaped like a horseshoe,

but no luck do I have, of many or few,

my wishes aren't granted, that I can tell,

and my hopes are just that, dreams unfulfilled.

 

What can I do to spice up my days?

Aggravate my co-workers? Set trashcans ablaze?

Replace the t.p. with leaves from the street?

Gather ice cubes with the balls of my feet?

 

Knock on their doors and run away quick?!

Smack them with staplers/call them a dick?

Answer the phone with an accent of Cockney?

Pretend every item is a Hawaiin Portkey?

 

Wear bunny ears like it's the new fashion style?

Smoke candy cigarettes while I process and file?

Barge in on a conference calls and make armpit noises?

Question every single one of their tie choices?

 

Lounge on the couch from ten to one?

Warming my feet in the bright midday sun?

Bleach my mustach from two to two-fifteen?

Brush my hair/shave my legs the time in between?

 

Oh what would they do if I went through with it?

Would they ignore me, scold me, or throw a heenie fit?

I'd be okay, whatever may come,

as long as I'm here (or there) having fun!

 

 

I Hate HTML and HTML Hate Me...

I have been on-line all morning, Google searching, Blogger searching and even commenting on Forums trying to figure out how to post in chronological order on my Vampire Blog.  After THREE GRUELING HOURS of "helpful" suggestions to "just change the date"  (um - NOOOOO!) I finally found a site.

It gives me the HTML codes I so desired.

In Spanish.

Thanks for that.  REALLY helpful!

So I post a fake blog (unlike the vampire one - tee hee) and try it out on it.  I enter in the code, replace html with other html and expect a miracle.

Me thinks I expect too much.

It doesn't post in reverse  - it only posts the first entry first and that's it.  The rest are - POOF - gone.  Eaten by the World Wide Web. 

I'm just not geeky enough to be a computer nerd.

I've tried.

I've failed.

I'm going back to the guitar.  At least then I expect to be bad at it...