Happy-Happy, Joy-Joy

This post was written on what I think was a Thursday, but I know it was the 30th day in the month of April in the year of 2009.

What do I love?

My Boy

My Baby and Her Daddy

My Dog

My Cat

Mini Daffs

Three Lakes Pool Team

To be continued …

when i come around

This post was written on what I think was a Thursday, but I know it was the 4th day in the month of August in the year of 2005.

Drunk-ass convo overheard circa 1:45 pm last Sunday at work:

Loaf: So I chased her out in the snow with nothing but my boots, boxers and a boner.

Flick: Well, what else d’ya need?

Feh …

Long time, no here/hear. Sorry.

Having a pup is much like having a baby. Only in a much accelerated way. So I’ve had little time – what with my expanded duties at the bar, trying to get a kick-ass portfolio ready for my interview next week, various social responsibilities and just general day to day existing – that I’ve had little time to post. I’ve started probably 3-4 times, then fell asleep. And then there were the last two posts – or non-posts as the case may be.

Anyway, here I am. And this is what’s been keeping me busy for the past weeks:

So he’s three months old and alternately the joy of my life and the bane of my existence. He’s finally learning to “go outside”, which is great, because that pissing on the floor thing was getting old. This morning he came in and jumped on the bed and bit my fingers and sat on my head. I kept telling him to go away. Finally he did. Then he went to stand by the door and BARK at the top of his lungs.

Oops, sorry little dude.

He still has accidents, but very few.

HOWEVER, because he’s mostly mastered the art of “going outside”, he obviously thinks that entitles him to other not-so-annoying behavior. Such as chewing shoes, underwear, my water-filled bra (the one that makes TheGirls look so spectacular) and every stray piece of paper in the house.

He’s also picked up the irritating habit of turning his nose up his Puppy Chow. Oddly enough, Kennedy did the same thing. He would rather have had generic, cheapo dog food than the more expensive stuff. Shotgun is the same way.

Actually Shotgun is the same as Kennedy in many respects. So much so that I catch myself calling him Kennedy occasionally. Then I get all teary-eyed and tell my DEAD dog that I’m sorry and I KNOW that this little booger isn’t him and …yeah, I’m retarded.

Yeah, so the job. Love it, hate it. What can I say?

I get paid handsomely for doing something I like to do anyway, but it wears me the hell out.

I got a call from a woman in the staffing department of the local office of this business. She’d found my work site online and was sufficiently impressed by my work to call and schedule an interview. So, I’ve been putting together a portfolio CD to take along. I’m looking for part-time work, hopefully stuff that I can do from home. How much would THAT rock? Considering I spend every available moment in front of this stupid thing anyway.

Especially now that TheBug has her own machine upstairs in TheBoy’s room.

I keep waiting for a weekend where we don’t have anything going on, but it just never happens. Last weeken we went on a benefit run for a friend’s bother who is going to Europe for a stem-cell transplant (?). This weekend is a niece’s wedding.

Maybe NEXT weekend will be the one. Heh.

The general day-to-day existence? Same shit, different stink.

Whaddya do?

out of sight, out of mind

This post was written on what I think was a Tuesday, but I know it was the 12th day in the month of July in the year of 2005.

So … final on the weird letter: Mr. Security Director tells me that they brought the inmate up to his office to have a little talk. Inmate Sanders repeats that he got my name and address from a “mutual acquaintance” while he was in county lockup. Bullshit, says I. It all comes down to the spelling of my first name, which is NOT the normal spelling of my first name and which very few people, including family, realize. He got my name out of the paper somewhere when it was there for the DUI. Also, I don’t KNOW anyone who would’ve been in “county lockup” in the Milwaukee area and besides, from all I can tell, he’s been in the STATE court system since 2001. And even if there was a slim chance that maybe “someone who was mad at me” (Mr. SD’s suggestion) gave him my name, it still goes right back to how my name was spelled.

In any event, he was told in NOT to contact me again. And he said he wouldn’t. Yeah, okay. Whatever. I’ve done what I can, this is all documented and will make a great screenplay when he gets out and comes stalking me. (I’m not being dismissive, just realistic. There’s not much else I can do. I’m not gonna start obsessing about it.)

So, onto other stuff.

I think I have something lodged at the very top of my nasal passage, probably a dead mosquito. Since about one yesterday afternoon the right side of my nose has itched, way deep inside, making me sneeze uncontrollably, as well as making my eyes water and my nose run. I realize that it’s probably allergies, but that would be way too boring. Better I should have some retarded thing wrong with me. Beside the Benadryl doesn’t even stop the sneezing-itching-watering, it just knocks me out.

Feh.

I am pissy at my template. Yes, the template that I spent the better part of my fucking weekend working on. I can’t style my fucking blogroll links the way I want to and it’s making me nuts. Well, nutser than I normally am. Which as we all know, is pretty high up there on the nuts scale.

Shotgun is growing in leaps and bounds. He’s hardly the little bundle of joy we brought home a month ago. Potty training is about 50/50 right now, more hit than miss, but I believe he’ll catch on eventually. He understands “no” (prolly cuz he hears it CONSTANTLY) and will sometimes go get his toy when I ask him “Where’s yer pig?” BTW, he’s got more damn toys than my kids had when they were little. His favorite? My slippers.

TheBoy has been out of the house for nearly two weeks, with occasional visits to do his laundry and to steal various kitchen items (bring that kettle back, ya little shit!). I miss him, but he’s been ever so much more pleasant since he’s been out and there’s not the added bullshit of having to clean up after him. There may be hope for the kid yet.

Okay, I’m bored and rambling, I’m out.

slow turning

This post was written on what I think was a Wednesday, but I know it was the 6th day in the month of July in the year of 2005.

Which Lesbian Stereotype Am I?

Gina, baby

You’re a Boi Dyke!

You kick ass, dear. Serious, serious
ass. You’re the type of girl who can
change the timing belt on my Camaro,
have sex with me on the hood, then
do shots with me back at your place. Will
you marry me?

Which Lesbian Stereotype Are You?
Stolen from
Queen Sasha,
who got it from Quizilla

Well, THEN …

Anyways, today is my day off and as always I am running around like a fucking chicken with my head cut off. I promised BD that I’d get the goddamn bedroom cleaned, check out what the hell is going on with the car insurance and get peas shucked (and possibly frozen) and that doesn’t include supper, laundry, vacuuming, making today’s lunch special for the bar and chasing that four legged demon from doggy hell that I am paying 350 hard-earned fucking dollars for around and cleaning up his shit.

Feh.

Speaking of the canine demon-spawn (that cute widdle puppy that I absolutely HAD to have, remember?), he doesn’t know his fucking name, thinks the command “Come!” means “Run around the yard like a maniac on crack!”, has forgotten every bit of housetraining that he pretended to learn over the previous three weeks and continues to chew my feet like they’re Kongs.

Remind me again why I wanted the little bastard?

On Saturday we went to a party at one of BD’s coworker’s – MrBreez – house, and met the guy in the middle (the guy on the left is MrBreez, the guy on the right is my hot-ass husband). GITM was pretty big and a memeber of some club. When I took this picture he glared at me and said, “I’ll let that one go, but if you take another picture, I’ll break your fucking camera.”

“Uh, yeah, whatever dude. Such the biker you are. Pardon me while I piss m’drawers.”

You’ll notice however that I’ve made him mostly unrecognizable. I’m not completely stupid.

Foolhardy, but not stupid.

So we left MrBreez’s party to come back home for TheBoss’s kid’s birthday party. We had a pretty good time. This is a picture of FastEddie at May’s theme party. Kinda squick’s ya out, don’t it?

Yup, his momma is proud, too.

On Saturday we went to watch a band. They were pretty good, but I can’t remember what their name was, how friggin’ dumb am I?

BD is trying to rescue Poppy, but she doesn’t really want to BE rescued. She climbed up there on a half-assed dare, which is how we end up doing most of the stupid stuff we do. I’m wondering if this hat was part of a dare.

We finished out the night with some pretty damn good fireworks. All in all it was pretty damn good holiday weekend.

scratch and claw

This post was written on what I think was a Monday, but I know it was the 4th day in the month of July in the year of 2005.

There is something inherently wrong with having to wear mosquito dope INSIDE YOUR FUCKING HOUSE! Dirty bastards The fuckers are so thick around here I fully expect to let the pup out and have him be carried away. Arrgh! It’s sheer torture to even stand in the yard. And I DETEST any kind of bug dope. No matter how careful I am, it eventually ends up in my mouth, making me gag and spit.

It has been a helluva long week. I’m feeling pretty shitty Fibro-wise and my back is kicking my ass. Thursday was so bad that I can’t remember much of anything, except that I was hysterical. It was like being drunk sorta, not very pleasant. For me or anybody around me.

Friday I put in nine hours on my feet, Saturday we went to a couple of parties (long bike ride, YAY!!), and yesterday I put in ten hours. To say that I am completely wore the fuck out would be something of an understatement! Dead on my feet would be a much better description.

Mimi Rogers can’t understand why this whole fiasco is such a big deal. Could it be that her ex is MAKING it a big deal? Might the answer possibly be that TC has been running around the world acting like someone in serious need of psychiatric medication even as he’s violently opposing it?

Look. People – even celebrities – fall in love every fucking day. I don’t remember the last time that I saw anyone screaming and jumping up and down on a goddamn SOFA on the world’s highest rated talk show proclaiming it. I don’t remember the last time I saw anyone so vehemently trying to convince THE WORLD that something was true. No one started questioning it until he started trying to convince the public at large. If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck, chances are it’s of the Anatidae family.

And how weird is that she’s (Rogers) spent the last week on the talk-show circuit defending her ex-husband’s honor?

I also find this more than a little disturbing. I am aware that she’s twenty six years old fully capable of making her own decisions, but doesn’t her family see the utter weirdness here?

I grew up in the midst of Catholicism. Hell, I married two good (ahem) Catholic boys. One does not just dismiss one’s Catholic upbring over the course of a few short months. She dumped her manager, her agent and two of her closest friends during that same time. There is something WRONG here, and I’m hoping that her family is in the “let’s just wait and see before we panic” stage and NOT the “fuck it man, he’s Tom Cruise” phase.

And in my own incidence of name-dropping, I used to do Greta Van Susteren’s mother’s nails. Margery was a feisty little thing, who told stories about her two daughters and her son and her husband “The Judge” and weekends at their cottage.

For all intents and purposes it seems as though TheBoy has, indeed, moved out. He called last night to ask if he could use the washer. I bestowed my maternal consent. Magnanimous, no?

And for those of you who asked: Introducing Cruella de Moi