15 Beauty Tips it Took Me Years to Learn

Yes, it took that long to gain common sense and problem solving skills.  Now that I have them, I'm a thinking machine!!
Yes, it took that long to gain common sense and problem solving skills. Now that I have them, I’m a thinking machine!!

As I’ve aged over the years (yes I’m getting old, damn you time! My arch-nemisis!!) I’ve finally learned a few things (beauty-wise) that I wish I’d known years ago.  Often I wonder, was I am idiot before?  How did I not figure this out years ago?  The answer is that I have no idea, apparently my brain wasn’t very functional when I was younger.  But now that it’s in its prime, my thinker is genius and has come up with all kinds of “life” wisdom.  Behold my brilliance!  (Because obviously I am smarter than you, unless you already know all this stuff in which case, you Sir or Madame are smarter than me in my “prime.” Congratulations!!) (BTW..thank you Microsoft Clipart for the fabuloso images.  You did great.)

1.  Trimming eyebrows is both recreational and makes you good looking.  I trim mine with a brow brush and manicure scissors.  All you have to do is brush those crazy brows up into the brow brush and then trim the long little jerks with the scissors.  Don’t be afraid to go wild!  I did and nothing bad happened, in fact my brows looked better than before.  I’ve also practiced this a few times on Mr. VS because as you may know, men have crazy eyebrows.  It’s in their nature.

2.  Throw out all your harsh face washes and soaps.  That shit is terrible for your skin!  It dries it out and also does not prevent breakouts, even though it will swear to god up and down that it does prevent them.  This is lies, all lies.  I’ve been using a homemade face scrub on my lovely mug made from sugar and oil.  You can use olive (which is kind of thick so only for people with really dry skin) or safflower which is less oily or even coconut oil.  This scrub also works great on the body.  Highly recommended.  And a bonus is the fact that after I get out of the shower, the floor is a bit oily and when Mr. VS gets in, he almost slips to his death and then he curses my name very very loudly.  And wherever I am, I know I have done something bad.

Brushing my teeth, fast and furious, getting tooth paste all over my face!!
Brushing my teeth, getting tooth paste all over my face. Loving it!!

3.  Please when you commence the brushing of the teeth, try with all your might not to get toothpaste everywhere, all over your face.  Tooth paste will make you breakout and then you will be pissy.

4.  You know how your dentist is always telling you to floss?  LISTEN to that guy with the little magnifying glasses and harsh white light positioned over your head that makes him have a god complex!! Flossing is a really good idea and not just for dental health (who cares about that?) but also all other healths, including the health of your facial epidermis.  What I’m saying is that flossing cuts down on inflammation which can cause breakouts.  So Floss!!

5.  Because I love everything British, I’m going to call pimples or breakouts or blemishes, “spots” from here on out.  It just sounds more civilized than zit.  Zit sounds nasty.  I mean it is nasty…but let’s dress it up a little, put a little lip stick on the pig.

Anyway…back on topic.  If you have a “spot” don’t pick!  I know, you’ve heard that a million times and when I hear it from someone, I’m like…really???  YOU HAVE TO DEAL WITH THAT SHIT!!  Don’t tell me to just let it FESTER!!

So…instead of picking you should take a needle (sewing needle works), clean the end with rubbing alcohol and CAREFULLY prick the “spot” and then gently remove that icky stuff inside.  Afterward, swab the “spot” with the alcohol which will keep all bacteria out of the OPEN WOUND, you now have on your face.  Alcohol is also helpful in that it dries out your “spot” which makes them want to wither and die.  And we do want them to die, don’t we?  As genteelly as possible, of course, because we are ladies and gentlemen, not animals.  Ahem.

Yea!  I'm washing my hands real good because I'm not going to touch anything for the rest of the day, so they certainly won't get dirty 2 seconds after I put down the soap.
Yea! I’m washing my hands so good because I’m not going to touch anything for the rest of the day, so they certainly won’t get dirty 2 seconds after I put down the soap.

6.  Keep ya damn hands clean!  Actually, I think that’s really dumb advice, but everyone tells you that, all the freaking time.  What they should really be telling everyone is STOP fondling ya damn face!!  You can wash your hands all you want and of course washing them after the restroom is really important, however as soon as you step outside said restroom with really clean sparkling hands, they will immediately become soiled upon the grossness of our office/home/restaurant/public icky places.  So the key to keeping germs at bay and yes, “spots” too is to not touch any part of your face, EVER, under punishment of DEATH.  That means YOU!  Stop rubbing your damn eyes, I know they itch, but suck it up unless you want a damn cold!  Or YOU, stop picking your nose!  We’re in public, have you no decency?!!  Or You!!  Stop eating without washing your hands first.  Gross!! Or YOU, you bastard, don’t put your fingers in your mouth!

7.  For the ladies, wear a little eye liner.  I’m telling you, you’ll thank me.  I once went without and it was actually a day that I was having my picture taken.  Ever since, I have hated those photos with a passion and I couldn’t figure out why.  What was different about me?  Why did I look terrible?  The answer: my eyes were lost.  And I don’t really have tiny eyes either but they had lost their significance in my face.  It was just one bland oval of the SAME color.  Doesn’t that sound weird?  It looked weird too.

"Sexy cow, sexy cow, sexy cow.  They gave me hormones to grow big and beautiful and...Delicious!!  Wait...??  What?"
“Sexy cow, sexy cow, sexy cow. They gave me hormones to grow big and beautiful and…Delicious!! Wait…?? What?”

8.  Peeps…I recommend you try to not eat foods that contain additional hormones.  You do realize that they pump cows full of artificial hormones?  And it’s not because it’s good for you, it’s because they want those cows to grow big, FAST and thereby make them more money, FASTER.  And those hormones are going inside you, whenever you eat a burger or whatever.  THEY claim that it’s not bad for you, but how the hell do they know that?  I swear to god that those hormones do weird shit to you (and your children too!).

Do boy children really need an excess dose of FEMALE hormones?  Probably not.  Do girl children need to get their period at age 8?  Probably not.   Also, things like Endometriosis, which I happen to have, could possibly be caused by too many hormones.  BTW..I stopped eating red meat and my skin seriously did get better, I think it was causing evil “spots!”

And hormone problems are not only in food, they can also be found in beauty products, such as hormone disrupters, which basically just fuck with whatever hormones you have.  For example:  Sun screen or BPA or Dioxins.  Sounds FAN-tastic.  Huh.  Oh and I also gave up milk.  Milk contains hormones too, but their little warning label will tell you that the highly TRUSTED FDA says it’s okay.  But did you know that Europe banned the hell out of that shit?  And we didn’t???

9.  I also recommend natural deodorant.   Most deodorants contain aluminum which is thought to perhaps cause breast cancer.  Not something you really want to mess with, particularly if you are applying said deo directly to your underarms (near your breast tissue) EVERY DAY for your ENTIRE LIFE.  To find natural products, go here:  Skin Deep

Ha ha ha...my cell phone just gave me 10 different communicable diseases including a computer virus, even though I'm wearing these white gloves to protect my hands.  Balderdash!
Ha ha ha…my cell phone just gave me 10 different communicable diseases including a computer virus, even though I’m wearing these white gloves to protect my hands. Balderdash!

10.  Do you ever…clean your phone? DO IT!!  GET IT OUT RIGHT NOW AND SWAB THE SHIT OUT OF THAT NASTY DISGUSTING THING!! Do you know how GROADY that thing is?  Talk about putting your hands on something totally festering with germs after you just washed your hands…oh yeah and then putting said bacteria rectangle (cube?) against your face to make a call.  Ewwww!!

11.  You could try having a “natural products party” with your friends.  I did it with a few of my girlfriends and it was super fun.  For example,  I now make my own:  powder laundry detergent, body wash, face wash, lip balm, lotion (still not quite successful), shaving cream, all purpose cleaner, etc.  It’s sweet.  Here are a few links to find some ahmazing recipes:

Wellness Mama
DIY Natural
Bohemian Kate
Keeper of the Home
Eating Bird Food

12:  You know how we’re made of a shit ton of water?  Anyway, you kind of need to replenish… regularly, we’re like water based life forms, in case you didn’t know.  To help me stay hydrated, I have a huge 40 oz Hydro Flask that I keep by my desk all day long.  In fact it’s pretty much the only thing I drink.  I don’t drink soda or flavored water.  I just drink water, STRAIGHT up.  I’m that hard core.  I recommend you model your water drinking after my excellent example.

13.  Sleep?  Show me someone who doesn’t like sleep!  It’s like the BEST thing EVER!!  I could sleep for a week straight, that’s how much I love it.  So yeah…most people need about 7-8 hours per night in a DARK room.  If you find you can’t sleep, invest in a sleep mask (yes I know it brings up images of the rich divorcee when she wakes up at 12:00 pm with a hangover craving a cigarette in a fancy holder, but trust me…they do work, like this one which I love: Bucky ) or get some blackout curtains.

14.  Ladies, don’t forget to use your eye lash curler.  I know it looks mean and evil, but it’s really your friend.  I have several friends, who shall remain nameless, who STILL to this day refuse to use their eye lash curlers.  I’m flabbergasted.  Just bamboozled.  I can’t understand them.  A curly eye lash is like godliness and a straight pointy eye lash is like…the seventh circle of hell.

15.  Makeup.  You should try the minerals.  I use Everyday Minerals and have been very happy.  “We’re happy togetherrrrrr!!”  Also natural lotions are cool too.  Who wants to slather their face with fossil fuels?  Petro chemicals?  Soot?  Tar?  Weird lab chemicals that god never intended?  Just kidding, I made some of those up.  Maybe.  Who knows?  There is some freaky stuff in our body care products.  If you knew…you would be DIS-gusted.  Promise.

See how perfect and happy I am?  I'm like the bubble boy, perfectly protected from the evil hormones of the world.  I just take my hormones in pill form now.  I'm advanced.
See how perfect and happy I am? I’m like the bubble boy, perfectly protected from the evil hormones of the world. I just take my hormones in pill form now. I’m advanced.

And so, in closing, these are the things that I have learned over the course of 31 years of existence on this planet.  I am now so perfect that I don’t even want to associate with the rest of you lowly humanoid types.  I am a new BREED, an advanced species.  My skin is shining, my teeth are free of plaque etc, my eye lashes are curled and godly, my skin glows because of all the water consumption I’m drowning myself in, I’m so well rested that I have the energy of 10 red bulls and vodkas.  My eyes are lined, a la Cleopatra (hence I am sexy as hell), my phone is so clean you could eat off it and sometimes I do as if it’s a mini platter to hold whores-de-vours (hahaha, I’ve always wanted to spell it that way somewhere official, like the interwebs and now my bucket list is complete!).  My brows are sculpted like a greek goddess statue and my body is sooo natural, in fact the only hormones that I subject myself to everyday are provided by the BC anti-children goddess.  I am pure…so pure and absolutely perfect that my body thinks I’ve been pregnant for over 10 years now without ever having any actual offspring.  (Weird that MORE hormones are called for to treat endometriosis??)

Fine, you’re right, I’m being disingenuous.  My skin is not shining, although my teeth are almost free of plaque.  My eye lashes are curled, however I am not well rested.  My brows are pretty nicely sculpted and my eyes are nicely lined, but I am not all-natural.  But I’m trying my best and that’s all I can do!  The pressure you people put on me to be perfect!  It’s TOO MUCH!!  GAH.

I hope my tips have helped you, because it took me 31 years of thinking to birth these simple ideas (as opposed to the 12 years I’ve been “supposedly” pregnant and birthed nothing).  THIRTY-ONE YEARS!!  That my friends, is a masterpiece…of a LIFETIME.  You can commence your slow clapping any time now as I receive my life time achievement award for GREATNESS in thinking.

 

A Case of “the Uglies” with Mincing and Ogling

Yesterday I had a mean case of the uglies.  It’s sort of like the “mondays” but it’s the uglies instead.  I don’t mean, I was ugly, as in I was horrible to be around or my mood was hideous or anything like that.  What I mean is that I felt…hideous, physically.  Yes,  yesterday I was blessed with a bad hair day, my skin looked off, my clothes felt wrong and conspicuous.  I just felt like everyone was looking at me and thinking, this girl looks terrible!

Have you ever had those days where the clothes you put on seemed okay in the morning, but when you get to work and take a look in the mirror it looks like you dressed yourself in someone else’s crappy clothes?  Or some part of whatever you’re wearing just feels weird or laughable, like the collar of the sweater your wearing is too big and ridiculous or the pockets on your pants aren’t in the right spot, or your butt looks huge or your tits look small or the style of the clothing is not something you would normally wear and you wonder who is thinking you look like a buffoon.  It could even just be that your clothes are too baggy or too tight or the fit is wrong and makes you look like a pear when you swore you were an hourglass.  Basically you look dowdy or frumpy or you look like Pancho Villa or a teeny-bopper in a 30 year old’s body working at a 30 year old’s job?  This was me yesterday.  Everything about my clothes was OFF and I felt that everyone noticed.  Probably no one did, but I noticed and made myself feel weird about it all day long.

Secondly my hair was a mess.  I have been failing as a girl lately because I got my hair cut short and I cannot for the life of me style the sonofabitch.  For most of my life I’ve had pretty long hair.  The kind you could wash and go, no styling needed.  But now with short hair I have to attempt to use the round brush and blow dryer and I am a failure.  It’s as though I have 2 left arms.  I cannot hold the brush and hold the blow dryer and manipulate both so that things actually work.  When I try, I’m blowing my hair sideways, blowing the hair out of the brush and into the opposite style than what I want and then the brush is all tangled in my hair and I end up looking horrific after ALL THAT WORK!  (Can you see it now?? I had to set my alarm back by 10 minutes to try to take care of my dumb hair!  And STILL it looks stupid!!)

So I kind of gave up on trying to style my hair, which as you can imagine leads to all kinds of bad hair days and the feeling of extreme self-consciousness when talking with anyone who actually puts their eyes on my weird head (like yesterday where I woke up after having washed my hair the day before and it was kind of kinky and weird and I tried to put it up but then it just looked dumb and juvenile and I knew everyone was judging me as unkempt and non-stylish).   I am not accustomed to “bad hair days.”  Or at least I never thought I was having one, so mentally I was never bothered by it.  I’m sure I did have bad hair days in the eyes of some, but I was blissfully unaware that my hair looked dumb.

Why is it that feeling that you look bad (even if you don’t really look that different from normal) makes you feel weird ALL day long.  You swear people are noticing, everyone is staring, judging, making fun, etc.  Mentally it can ruin your day because you keep harping on it.  It’s like when you eat some chocolate at your desk and then hours later go to the bathroom and actually take the time to look upon your face (which normally you don’t do, just breeze out of there as if everything is great) and that’s when you see that you have a big patch of chocolate on the side of your mouth.  Really???  And then you think about all the people you talked to since you ate that chocolate and the cringing horrible self-conscious terror comes over you and you are DYING of embarrassment.  Your face will literally turn red, even though there is no one around AT the moment to see the chocolate that you just wiped off.  You are embarrassed, AFTER The fact.

This happened to me once and I was PISSED that no one told me that I had chocolate on my face!  When I made accusations at my co-workers, people said they hadn’t noticed!  And they weren’t lying, cause one of them was my boss (a man) who had specifically talked with me while the chocolate was gracing my face and he acted surprised.  He hadn’t noticed!!

You know what that tells me?  No one EVER looks at your goddamned face!!  They don’t! People are too caught up to really look at you.  They are probably too busy wondering if they have greenery stuck between their teeth.  Due to this revelation, does my face now feel unloved?  It kind of does!  Like all this make up I put on….why?  But I would feel horrible mentally if I didn’t do it!  So really, putting on my face and nice clothes and trying to do my hair is basically for my mental health and not for anyone else.  People are far too caught up in their own shit to notice if you’ve got shit on your face.

Secondly, wardrobe malfunctions are also extremely embarrassing. Once AT work, I had a skirt on that was made of linen and the top layer had little holes in it and the under layer was a slip type deal of silky material.  All fine and good, until that under layer lets you down by RIPPING when you didn’t realize it and suddenly you are EXPOSED!!  FREAKING EXPOSED to the WORLD!!  The horrors!!!

Shit like that  can ruin your entire day, it can even carry over into the NEXT day!  You will wonder, who noticed, who was ogling?!!  Who didn’t SAY anything??  Who saw my underwear??? It’s like at work the other day I noticed a girl walking on the sidewalk while I was in my car.  She was wearing this little itty bitty tunic type deal that was also serving her as a skirt, little as it was.  She had on blue tights/leggings…but they were SEE through and when the wind was blowing up her tunic-deal her nether areas were EXPOSED!!  Good lord!!  I wasn’t near enough to tell the poor darling, but I cringed for her, many many times.

Speaking of (rambling) and my failings as a girl, I cannot for the life of me find the patience to wear heels.  I bought some this weekend (another attempt to trick myself into thinking that cute footwear is actually something I’ll be able to do) and when I put them on I got pissed because of how SLOW I had to walk.  I started walking down the stairs (or I could say mincing like a pig with tiny tiny hooves) and I got pissed because I wanted to RUN down the stairs but because of my shoes and not wanting to hurt myself in said shoes, I had to walk slowly and grip the railing.  This is ridic.  All my normal speeds had gone from road runner to tortoise in seconds.   The speed limit had been reduced!!  I was suddenly in a school zone when before I was riding on the damn Autobahn. Also my feet started hurting and within 2 hours, those shoes were thrown from my feet.  Heels are bullshit.  They do look cute though, if you have the patience to walk slowly and carefully like Ms. Piggy.

The final wrap up of this fashion-related disaster of a blog post is that…you may feel self conscious all day long when you wear something dumb or out of character or when your hair is crazy or when your face looks like somebody struck it with a shovel, however most of the world will not notice, AT ALL.  No one ever looks at your goddamned face. (and they probably hardly ever look at your body, except for the ogling boys, they are DEFINITELY looking, ALWAYS, keep that in mind!!)  And if they DO happen to glance, it’s only for a few seconds at a time.  So, most likely they won’t notice if you look dumb.  Now try telling yourself this, next time you have a bad hair day. Gauranteed it will not help your mental state that much, because mental states like to torture you beyond anything reasonable or rational.  So….I say…good luck with that.  To me and to you.  Good night.

Oh wait…one more thing.  So…about the ogling.  Boys are terrible terrible oglers.  They will ogle you silly!  One time Mr. Victoria Sawyer went to the grocery store and when he came home he told me the store was filled with “hot moms” and secondly, he was able to describe what these women were wearing in pretty good detail.  Mr. VS is a normal dude, not overly creeptastic and he had noticed things.  So trust me ladies, when you think you are just enjoying yourself at the grocery store, wandering the aisles, you are actually being ogled (eye f$%^ed!) by EVERY single guy there.  Guys have problems.  It’s like ogling is a past time for them.  They are that good at it.  Even when we’re out to dinner TOGETHER, just the two of us, Mr. VS’s eyes are never still.  They are forever ogling everyone in sight.  For serious.  This shit is happening.  It’s sick.  Just sayin’.

26 Ways Cats Gleefully and Shamelessly Annoy Humans

EVIL!!! DEVIL EYES!!! RUN!!!

As much as I love cats, I also realize that they are insane.  Much like me.  (I’m already turning into a crazy cat lady who wants to talk about her cat ALL the time.  It’s like G (Bitey) is my child.  Seriously.)  So cats in general like to do things that are the complete opposite of what you want them to do.  If they know it annoys you or will otherwise get your attention, BAM they are on it.  The minute they hear you say “NO!”  they know it’s their cue to keep doing whatever it is they are doing.  G has mastered every way to annoy me into getting EXACTLY what he wants.  He’s actually a very effective con-artist (cat-artist?  Cat Con-Artist?).  Manipulator.  Tricksy…little….mmmmhmm.

Ways in which Bitey tries to annoy me:

1.  Slowly and carefully pushing my phone off of every single surface.  It’s like he knows I like my phone.  He’s realized that.  So he puts his little paw next to my phone and push push push and SLAM that phone is on the floor.  HAHA!!  Bitey wins!

2.  If Bitey sees my phone on the bed or somewhere like that, he will attack it.  The screen protector has all kinds of marks on it because of his little claws and teeth.

3.  He also pushes the remote off any surface and then attacks it, gripping it with his arms (front paws?) and kicking it with his rabbit feet.  A REMOTE control?  Why????  It’s like he knows we use it or something.  How does he know!!??

4.  If you are drinking a glass of water and you set it down, pretty much anywhere, he will mosey on up to it and stick his head right down into the glass and therefore defile your water with his kitten fur and tongue.  Doesn’t matter how far down the water is, he will attempt to reach it with his head and if that fails to work, he will back out and dip his paw in.  His LITRE box paw.  Ewww! We’ll get to that later.

5.  If you want to brush your teeth, forget it.  He will jump on the sink and get his little cat prints everywhere and then will stick his head under the faucet for a drink.  Then he will bat and play and attack the water, sticking his paws under the flow to send it everywhere.  If you dare to put your tooth brush under the water, he will no doubt try to bite or play with it.

HAHAHA!! Seriously, that is all.

6.  When I load the dishwasher, Bitey thinks it would be fun to jump inside the dishwasher once I’ve pulled out the bottom tray.  He sits inside and tries to play with the little whirlygig thingys inside and the REFUSES to get out when I want to close the dishwasher.  This is especially annoying when the dishes are CLEAN!!  WTF!!!

7.  The same idea works for the laundry.  We have a front load washer and when I load clothes, Bitey jumps inside and stays there while I load clothes on top of him.  This is particularly hilarious when I’m done and he pokes his head out from between all the clothes and his ears are pushed back and it’s just his little alien head that is showing.

8. He’s a master needle-threader…as in his skills in slipping through doors that are closing and getting inside before the door is completely shut (He’s not good at sewing).  He particularly loves rooms that he is typically not allowed into and will make hell.  For example, our guest bedroom has a huge aloe plant on top of a dresser.  If he is able to thread the needle and get inside he will jump onto the dresser and climb into and bite the aloe plant.  This is particularly annoying when you want to leave or go to bed and can’t catch him, because he will run and hide.

9.  Clean clothes, towels or sheets are like a magnet to him.  In the bathroom I have clean wash cloths in a basket this is his favorite place to sleep.  Even after I covered both towel baskets with something to keep him out, he still managed to knock it off and find his way inside.  Getting his black fur all over my CLEAN towels.  Not acceptable.  Nothing is sacred.

10.  Plants are always in danger.  (How they shudder and silently scream at his approach, we may never know!)  We have a “money” tree and he broke a branch off it by climbing inside the plant.  He also tries to play with my jade plant that I’ve had for YEARS longer than him and he knows that I don’t like it.  He does it to taunt me.  He makes sure I am paying attention and the purposefully puts his paw up to bat at the leaves.  He’s destroyed a golden pathos  I have in our bathroom.  There are no leaves, just little blackened gooey stems.

11.  Toilet paper is for playing and not for any other purpose.  If you leave it anywhere where cleaver little paws can get to it (like on the holder or on the counter, or on the window sill),  it will be thrown onto the floor and bitten and clawed.  When you get home there will be toilet paper everywhere and the roll will have little vampire marks all over it.  Same thing with tissues if they are sticking out of the box.  He will pull them out and throw them around and attack.

12.  I have given up trying to keep Bitey from jumping on top of the dining room table. He uses it as a staging area to attack things and as a means of running, jumping and jungle-gyming all over the place.  He will climb up and then jump down, body slamming a toy.  He will also spend time knocking everything off the table, like phones and anything else we happen to put there.

Yup, pretty much.  That poor bastard.

13.  We can’t allow Bitey into our room at night because restful sleep time is not recognized by cats as a necessity.  He will attack and bite our phone cords and did destroy my husbands tablet charger with his sharp little teeth.  He will play with anything on the floor, batting it around, making all kinds of noise.  He will attack feet, hands or anything else under the covers.  He will run across our faces and/or attack our faces.  He will purr loudly (his engine is busted or somehow needs a tune up because his idle sounds all crazy).  Then he’ll circle and knead and then get up and circle and then knead, circle and knead.  Circle and knead. CIRCLE AND KNEAD AND PURR!!! He will stick his face right next to your face so his antenna (otherwise known of as whiskers) will tickle the hell out of you while you are trying to SLEEP!!

Those Goddamned STRINGS!!!!

14.  He wants to play CONSTANTLY.  He will wear me out with how much he wants to play.  I’ll throw his toy and he’ll run and attack.  I’ll twirl around the bathrobe tie that he loves so much and he’ll attack and attack.  I’ll roll around the ball with the bell in it and he’ll play for a few minutes until he’s bored and wants to play with something else.  It never ends.  I’m not young anymore.

15.  Picking on the couch is a past time.  He indulges simply because he wants something.  He’ll pick, pick, pick, we’ll say “NO!” and then he’ll run to another part of the couch and do it again and we’ll say “No!” again.  This will continue until he gets whatever it is he wants.  I absolutely loath giving in to demands that are forced with threats.

Again, seriously? AHAHAHA!!

16. He expects that I will clean his poop in his litre box.  When I do, he gets excited and wants to annoy  me while I do so by attacking the handle of the box containing clean litter.  As soon as I clean his box, he will immediately soil it.

17.  Anything that falls from the counter in the kitchen is a toy.  Lettuce is a particular favorite to bat, play and bite at it until there are little pieces of lettuce debris all over the floor.

18.  Anything on the bathroom counter is a toy.  He will bat off things like razors or any device or charger.  For example, my husband has a beard trimmer dealy and Bitey thought it would be fun to bat it off the counter with a crash and then when it broke into two pieces, he batted one of them under the sink.  He has also batted other items under the sink.  Hair ties, contact lens cases, toilet paper rolls (the cardboard part), etc.

19.  The shower is particularly fun. Attacking the curtain while the water runs against it is a hoot, sticking head in at either end to let in the cold air is annoying.  Lowering cat body in between the tub wall and the shower curtain and hanging out, keeps them guessing.

20.  Strings of any kind drive Bitey mad.  (those goddamned strings!!)  Strings on bathrobes that are hung up are fun to jump and attack.  Strings on sweatshirts, shoes, pants, bra straps etc are all toys.

21.  Tape is fun to bite when it’s on a box.  It also sounds really really annoying.

22.  Packaging of any kind, like long sheets of brown paper are really fun.  Running at full speed and diving into said paper is AWESOME.  And also really annoying.

23.  If glasses (spectacles) are spotted off any surface, like a bedside table, window sill, etc, they are fun to push off. (Luckily, so far my face is mostly safe, but he has clawed my cheek before.  By dashing full speed at my face.)

24.  Computers are for walking on, laying on, or running across at full speed.  If strange web pages are accessed or wrong emails sent, this is a bonus.

25.  Grocery day is exciting because both paper bags and reusable bags are really fun to jump inside.  Especially the reusable ones because they have handles for attacking.  Crushing paperbags with cat body is also fun.

26.  Trying to trip us is a hazard he has mastered.  Running in between our feet as we go upstairs or are carrying things is particularly enjoyable cat past time.

I will conclude by telling you that Bitey seems to be a devil sent to torture me.  Occasionally he deems me worthy of affection.  Although it’s not even that I am “worthy”  it’s more like, he wants affection and he “settles” for letting me be the one to give it to him.  And then everything is like peaches and cream yogurt, just great and sweet and loving.  Until the claws and teeth come out again.  The reprieve I feel is incredibly short-lived.  Why does he hate me when I’ve loved him so well?  When I take care of all his needs?  WHY OH WHY!!??  I lament!!

Haha…just kidding, he’s a punk.  We totally have a antagonistic relationship.  And FYI, he loves giving us shit ALL the time, but you give him just a bit of shit and he HATES it!!  He’s basically decided this is a one way street we live on where I do all the giving and he does all the taking and all the annoying.  You know what this is?  Whoa.  It’s payback for torturing my brother for all those years.  Yup, I totally just figured it out.  It’s Karma baby.

Fine, this was all just an excuse to insert as many Cat Memes as possible.  You got me.

 

 

 

The Many, Many, Many Things That Bring The Too Funny Chicks Angst

Are you ready for an angst-fest?  Wanna get angst-tastic?  My pals/gals over at Too Funny Chicks agreed to write a guest blog post for me and decided to share with my readers their “angst” and of course…you’re gonna laugh and you’re gonna nod your head because some of this stuff gives you heart palpitations and sweaty palms as well.  Enjoy!  And check them out!

Chick E’s Angst

The first thing I did when preparing to write this Guest Blog for a Blog Site called, “Angst” was Google the word Angst.

Angst means fear or anxiety.

I feel like I knew that but sometimes I make up definitions to words so I wanted to double check, especially since I’m only here as a guest blogger. If it were my own blog, Too Funny Chicks.  I probably wouldn’t have cared as much. I am allowed to be dumb there. But not here.

Anyway, there are seventeen million things in this world that cause me angst. Is that right? Does something cause you angst? “I’m feeling very angsty”. That’s not even a word. But it totally should be. It is now. Use it freely…you’re welcome.

Here’s a sampling:

  • Flying – I don’t feel like I’m going to die or anything, I just hate the way airplanes make me feel. It takes weeks for my ears to return to normal. My ears hate flying the most.
  • Dirty Floors – Not just in my house…all floors. If I’m at your house and I feel like your floors aren’t clean, I will feel angsty.
  • Dirty Toilets – Like the one above times a billion. I clean my toilets at least twice a week.
  • Dirty Anything – I just really enjoy things being clean. Can that just be OK?
  • The cat’s litter box – A litter box is nearly reason enough to never, ever, own a cat. That thing is disgusting.
  • My hair – Not quite straight, not quite curly, my hair is a large source of angst for me.
  • A Kitchen “Low” on Food – I use that term “low” loosely, because I am admittedly a grocery hoarder. If I have two jars of something and have to open one, that item goes on the list. I have to have two backups of everything at all times. I’m even like that with produce. I am a produce hoarder. It’s incredibly wasteful, both of food and money. I know this. I just can’t stop. I am currently seeking a therapist if you have any recommendations.
  • Video Games – This I just don’t get. I get angsty about the things I don’t get. I work with so many people who are somewhat consumed by video games. Someone should tell them that stuff’s not real.
  • Pregnant Women – Ugh. It just reminds me of being pregnant. Talk about angst up the wahzoo. As if life isn’t stressful enough, then you go and throw growing a human on top of it. You’re literally growing a human. So weird.
  • Unpainted Toenails – The last time my toes weren’t painted was probably in the 80s. Unpainted toenails are so gross. Except on boys. Then it’s OK.
  • Shoes – For all sorts of reasons. There are never enough shoes. Just when I think I’m finally reaching a cutoff point, I discover some new style/color/function I NEED to have in my life. Currently it is a pair of Hunter rain boots. Then there’s the whole issue of travelling. What shoes do I bring? What if it snows where I’m going and I don’t have my snow boots? And don’t get me started on any sort of weather hitting my shoes (hence the need for Hunter rain boots). If I am out in a cute pair of leather ballet flats and it starts raining, watch out, because I’m running. I’ll knock your ass over to get my feet somewhere where the rain can’t spot the leather. (I’m getting all angsty just thinking about it).

I could go on, but I won’t. I’ll save some room for my cohort, who will have an equally ridic list of things that make her angsty. We’re not very well adjusted. Or sane. But we’re funny and cute and that’s all that really matters.

Chick A’s Angst

I didn’t read Chick E’s portion of this blog prior to writing my list. I just knew that our “angsts” were probably quite similar and I didn’t want to have her or anyone thinking that I was copying.
Angst might be my new favorite word. Especially Chick E’s version “angsty”…Let’s all start saying that.
Alright, let’s get this Angsty Party Started…
Things that bring me angst:

  • Waking up for anything besides just because I wake up. Schedules bring me angst.
  • When the shower water touches me before I am ready.
  • The fact that I don’t floss.
  • The daily choice between looking cute and being comfortable. I know people say there’s a way to achieve both, but that’s kind of a lie.
  • Dust on surfaces.
  • Fingerprints on glass.
  • Anything not clean. Especially my tub. And toilet. And floors. And surfaces.
  • Getting rid of clothes that I never wear or have holes and stains. Like, maybe I’ll wear it or maybe I’ll figure out how to fix it….someday.
  • When necklaces get tangled together.
  • When my magazine pile up. I never read them. I just like to subscribe to all of them.
  • My DVR being too full, too empty or medium storage capacity. So, basically everything about my DVR brings me angst.
  • Wires of any sort. Holy Moly, I HATE wires. They stress me out so much.
  • The news.
  • People that drive in the left lane going 50.
  • When the peanut butter jar is basically empty, but you can’t recycle it with peanut butter in it, so you have to clean it and that is really hard to clean.
  • Inappropriate Leggins wearing. (They’re leggings, but I like to call them “Leggins”)
  • When people call the Magic Kingdom “Disney World”…Disney World has four parks: Magic Kingdom, Epcot, Disney Studios and Animal Kingdom.
  • Other people’s feet.
  • My feet
  • TooFunnyChicks.com not becoming a worldwide sensation.

Okay, I’ll stop there, but honestly, I could go on and on. And on…and then like on a lot more.

So, stop by our blog, Too Funny Chicks.  where you’re apt to see an entire article about any one of these 27 Angst Filled topics above. I’m thinking my next one might be all about #9 on my list. Pregnant Women don’t bring me that much angst.

THANKS much to Victoria for allowing us to come and guest blog on her amazing site and letting us bring our unique brand of crazy to her site. And a big thanks to Victoria’s Followers for putting up with us and coming over to Too Funny Chicks and maybe Following us too?

We heart you!
-Chick A

Wife Competitions of Which We are Unaware

This title just gets me.  It’s like backward.  Anyway…don’t get it into your little sick heads that this is about wife swapping or anything so scandalous as all that.  Although of course that’s the first place my sick little head went as I wrote this even though I know what I’m going to write about.  Stop it dirty mind!  That’s not it AT ALL!!  No…this post is about how men manipulate their wives by pitting them in competitions against each other.  And yes, at first we are totally unaware that we’re in a race with another man’s wife.  I didn’t know we were lining up, I didn’t know the wife race shot gun was about to go off announcing that I was supposed to run for all I was worth at the “best wife ever” finish line to win the “wife of the year” WOTY blinged out trophy.  But yes, that’s exactly what’s happening BEHIND The SCENES!!  You’ll find out more with this SHOCKING expose!!

Wife Competitions Are Happening in YOUR TOWN!!

I’m about to blow your mind about the secrets of wife competitions.  They are happening all around us, behind closed doors, whispered about from behind hands.  Evil men are perpetrating this, as we speak. You might even know a man who is doing this. In fact, you might be MARRIED to a man who is hosting wife competitions.  Maybe he’s even assembling some kind of dream team.  A fantasy wife league of epic proportions!  We don’t know how deep this scandal goes.  All I can tell you is what I’ve learned recently.

Trouble in Which We’re All Friends

I have a friend, K and her husband M is friends with my husband James.  In fact they work together.  This is a situation just ripe for wife races.  It’s basically inevitable that it will occur.  The first time I really realized that wife competitions were happening was when we went camping together last year.  The forecast for the long weekend said RAIN, RAIN, RAIN.  And I said…booooo!!!  I don’t wanna go camping in the RAIN!!  And this isn’t just me being a wimpy wife, this is from years of experience where I was forced to camp in all conditions by my evil parents (everybody in this post besides me and maybe K is evil, just FYI).

So I know what camping in the rain is like and it’s not really all that fun.  So I was boo-hooing and threatening to not go at all.  Next thing I know, James is telling me that M told him that K is definitely going camping.  That she’s lived in our area her whole life and she’s not afraid to camp in the rain!  She’s damn tough, goddamn it!  She won’t be staying home with a good book, she’ll be out there stoking the fire in her raincoat!  She’ll be running to the bathroom in the cold rain and she’ll be laughing!  Yes, she’s gonna LOVE IT when she’s lying shivering in her tent with wet socks!!  Obviously she’s a FAR better wife than you could ever be!

Holy $%&*!  I Will Not be Shown Up!  I’m Super Wife!!

So what did this do to me?  I was like…dammit, I’ll show that bitch!  How DARE she act like she’s better than me!! I know how to camp in the rain!  I’ve probably camped more than all of you assholes combined!  Don’t test me!  I’ll show you bastards how to camp in the rain.  BRING IT!!

And that’s exactly what they wanted!!  The evil husbands were trying to stoke up my competitive nature.  They were using their testosterone fueled man brains to prod me into camping because of course I couldn’t be shown up by someone else’s wife!  I couldn’t let someone else’s wife be a better wife than me or a more kickass woman!  I had to represent!  Even if this girl was my friend, it didn’t matter, goddamnit!  I’d show that horrid, terrible bitch!!  (I apologize my dear, you are not a bitch at all, no woman is, but it makes this telling much more dramatic if I call you one and also threaten to pull out your hair for DARING to say that you’re more woman than me because you’ve lived here all your life and you  know the weather conditions and you’re not afraid.  Oh my boiling blood!  The competition!!!)  See what was happening!!  SEEE ITTT!!!!

Before I reveal the horrible truth to you, I’m going to tell you another story.

I’m the Best Skier Ever (and wife).  So There.

This past weekend I went skiing.  I haven’t been skiing in years but hubs decided he wanted me to go and I thought…hell, why not!  Typically he goes with M who loves skiing and who has been trying to get K to ski for ever.  K is NOT into it.  So…when James told M at work this week that I went skiing and kept up with the boys, he was incredulous!  His mouth HUNG OPEN in amazement and jealousy!  I had actually owned up!  I had committed to skiing!  WHAT!!  And guess what M immediately did?  He entered K and I into another wife competition that we didn’t want any part of!  He freaking signed our names on the ballot!  We were in a race for mayor of wife town, representative best wife ever! Now K is being told how awesome I am, how cool it is that I can ski, how she should go skiing next time, etc. etc.  And K is probably ripshit mad at me for being such an asshole.  Hey, I don’t blame her!  I’m a pretty awesome wife.  Damn!

And here’s another one.  I cut James’ hair on the regular.  With clippers and scissors.  It’s no biggie for me because I used to cut my brother’s hair and friends now and then in high school and my mom cut my dad’s hair. One day James just decided he was done paying the salon for what I could do at home and since he loves saving money, he mandated that I should cut his hair.  This is okay with me, although kind of annoying.

Held Hostage by a Beard

Anyway, recently M decided that K should also cut his hair.  Now, K has no experience with hair cutting whatsoever and being the dramatic girl she is, much like myself, she basically threw a temper tantrum when he tried to get her to cut his hair.  His methods though?  He sat down in the kitchen and refused to get up until she cut his hair.  PLUS he held her hostage with a beard he refused to shave, knowing full well that she can’t stand beards!  The horrors of scratchy itchy beard hostaging!!  And of course, he told her that I was such a good wife and cut my husbands hair all the time.  And there you have it, another instance of wife competitions.  Who has the best wife?  Whose wife does everything right?  Whose wife kicks the most ass?  Whose wife is the toughest camper?  Whose wife can climb 5 mountains in one day?  Hmm?

I Will be Victorious!  Victoria the Victorious!!

K versus V in a wife competition cage match, to the DEATH!!  Who will win??  Which wife is truly the best!  Which wife will throw the most dramatics?!  Which wife will get into the competition and call the other a bitch for doing something she hates to do!  Which wife does such and such in the bedroom?  Who!!  Who will win!!

Seriously, this is bullshit!!  Wife competitions are so annoying and guess what?  It came to light later, with the camping story above, that K wasn’t really all that thrilled with camping in the rain either and M and James totally built that shit up to convince BOTH of us that the other was into camping so that both of us would agree to go just to show the other girl that we weren’t wimpy!  WHAT THE HELL!!

Wife Competitions are Inhumane!

I’ve officially declared that Wife Competitions are OVER!  And totally illegal and outlawed.  And anyone pitting wives against each other will be found guilty and locked away in husband hell for at least 3 days. Solitary!!

The new game is that whenever either of us doesn’t want to do something, it’s okay.  We’re our own people with our own likes and dislikes and dammit we will not be compared!  We’re each beautiful and awesome in our own way.  HAAA!!  So each example will just serve to show the men that we’re individuals.  We’re special like snowflakes or flowers or whatever!  DAMMIT!!

Oh wow…I love this so much.  I’m a special snowflake.  Recognize!!  And so is K!  We will not be pitted against each other like poor dogs in a dog fight!  We’re human!  And we only compete if we WANT to!  We will not be forced!

But He Said, She Said, They Said, What?  Oh My Gawd!

Plus the miscommunication is absolutely hilarious.  And totally rigged.  M tells James something about K and James tells me and then I’m like…whaa???  Then I ask K and it’s a totally different story.  And it works both ways.  I tell K something about James and K tells M and M tells James.  It’s telephone of the sexes.  And the message is always terribly wrong and garbled.  It’s rife with misunderstandings and the loss of tone of voice and inflection!  and yes, word choice.  You’ll forever be hearing, I didn’t SAY THAT!!  I used this word which is slightly different but totally different in meaning. VASTLY different. Gawd.  You hens!!  (SEXIST!!)

From now on it’s a competition of men against women.  That’s what I’m declaring right now.  And the women are clearly more awesomer (ha) than the men.  And we do what we wanna do, ain’t no one gonna push us around.  So there!  I will throw high dramatics!  I will throw down!  I will make my dramatics cheesier than a soap opera or a plate of delish nachos!  We will cry, we are not afraid!  We will rant, we will throw tantrums, we will have pity parties with our girlfriends and we will talk shit about the men and their fantasy leagues of wives!

Now on to Important Things:  I.E. My Fears and Drinking

Finally, in closing, Irish Car Bombs with Guinness, Whiskey and Bailey’s are seriously the best, yummiest thing ever.  The end.  And ski lifts are terrifying but they are better than hiking because they carry my lazy ass up the mountain. The end 2.

Pity Party for 2! Whoohooo!

Sometimes you need a pity party.  Sometimes you don’t know you need one and someone hosts one for you anyway and doesn’t tell you it’s gonna be tomorrow at noon and when you show up where you always show up on Tuesdays at noon, there it is, waiting for you.  Surprise!!  It’s a surprise pity party!  YEA!!!!

Sometimes that someone hosting the party is you.  Okay…so pretty much 99.99% of the time, pity parties are hosted by the person who is the guest of honor.  That’s how pity parties work.  You basically wallow and get drunk on how unsatisfactory you feel until something else distracts you from feeling sorry for yourself.  So if you want to join me in my pity party, stick around, it’s gonna be a laugh riot!  We’re gonna party so hard you’ll feel sick for days!!

So the story of my pity party is that I applied for another job in writing, social media, and graphic design and I had an interview last week.  I determined ahead of time that I wasn’t going to blog about it because dammit that just seems unlucky for me and I didn’t want to jinx anything.  So I was quiet and stealth about it.  You guys had no idea!  And…unlike normal,  I was feeling optimistic.  This job was in my old department, granted it’s a pretty big department and this was a different branch, however it’s still the same department and there are people there who can speak well of me.  So I thought maybe I could make this shit happen.  I interviewed, it seemed to go well and then I waited to hear the results.  There were 5 other candidates, so of course I was concerned and imagining exactly how awesome these other people were and picking myself apart for every “um” during my interview.

This weekend I got the letter that started the pity party.  It was the…rejection letter, in the mail, on a Saturday afternoon after I had just enjoyed a wonderful “winter carnival” outside with my husband’s family (bonfire, snow-mobiles (say it as 2 words, just for fun), 3 wheelers and meats with cheese, duh!).  As soon as I saw the envelope, I knew it wasn’t going to be good news.  That’s not how they offer you a position. That’s how they try to let you down gently. It’s not you, it’s me, what not, what not.

And then I proceeded to privately lose it in the confines of my own house.  The pity party was in full swing and an exciting one it was too, just ask James.  He was actually the only other person invited at the time because he just happens to live in the same house as me.  Lucky man!  He claims he didn’t get an invitation and he wasn’t going to go, but he did because it was delivered via singing telegram, it was just very last minute and then I drove him to the party and forced him inside and the festivities commenced!  We partied like ANIMALS!!  Or like it was 1999!  Or I did and he watched and listened and tried to tell me not to drink so much pity.  But I was determined that I was going to get drunk on pity.  I was going to drink so much pity that I would cease to exist!  And no one could stop me!  I’m an adult after all and of legal pity drinking age and I will do WHATEVER I want!  Dammit!

Can you see me now?  Wah, wah, wah like a big baby!  Chugging self-pity from two 40 oz bottles that I duct taped to my hands while blubbering about how no one loves me.  Double fisting the pity!  Really working hard for that pity!  Stomping around the house like a large child, making recriminations, drunkenly pity pointing out things that make absolutely no sense.  Pointing fingers at self, making outrageous points by pointing finger in the air with exclamation points.  Cursing heaven and hell, high dramatics better suited for the stage than real life because of their full on cheese, temper tantrums, self recriminations, blathering, runny  nose, stingy eyes, totally an adult bout of losing one’s cool.  Very very professional, of course.  I’m never NOT professional.

So I was pretty bummed and of course, being me, I was beating myself up over it like crazy and wondering what I did wrong.  That’s part of the problem with applying for jobs, they never really let you know why you didn’t get the job or why they picked the person they did.  So it’s hard to come away from it knowing what to do with yourself.  If it was clear that you were missing a specific something, or you feel you couldn’t properly answer a question during the interview, it would be easier to know how to proceed forward.  In this case, I heard they hired someone with a completely different skill set than mine.  I’m not sure exactly what that means.  If they had some of the same skills but gained them in a different manner or just had completely different skills, which wouldn’t make much sense to me because they advertised for a certain skill set, the exact one that I have.

And then it was MONDAY.  The dreaded!  The terrible!  Going into the office at your current day job knowing that you’re going to a job you’re not very excited about and there’s no other job on the horizon and feeling terribly hung over from your bender in pitydom.  However, luckily the pity party, though fun and wild, was pretty short lived.  I guess I’m a lightweight now, I just can’t pity party like I used to be able to.  And like all hard partying,  I’m embarrassed and ashamed of my drunk on  self pity antics but I’ve put it from my mind and am moving forward.  And guess what? Another job, very similar to the one I just interviewed for was just posted.  HUZZAH!!  Not only that, I’m setting up a meeting with someone from the previous hiring committee to talk about feedback from my interview.  Double HAZZAH!  So good things are happening, even when things seem very bleak and full of self-defeat and drunken pity antics.  Truly it’s not the end of the world that I didn’t get this position.

Now just for fun I’m going to paint a little picture for you of something that I found humorous today.  I was driving to work, the 45 minute trip that I take everyday which is incredibly boring.  But today there was some fun to be had in the form of the person driving in front of me.  I think it was a “he” but I can’t be sure.  He was driving something that looked like a 60′s boat, a Cadillac or some such car.  His window was partially rolled down to accommodate his cancer stick which he kept flailing out the window at regular intervals.  The best parts though were the large fuzzy dice in the rear view mirror and the fact that he was wearing some kind of hat with little ears on it.

It sort of reminded me more of Shrek or Tigger than a teddy bear because the little rounded ears were on the side of his head, not the top.  The part that got me laughing was that he was rocking out to some kind of music and was bobbing his head and doing little spastic jerks that sent those little ears bopping.  It seemed like it was probably some kind of rock music, maybe some killer base and drums that he was pretending to hit with his head, making those little ears dance.  The incongruousness of this scene was just too much.  It brightened my day immeasurably.  Thank you cancer stick addicted, cool guy with hard rock rocking teddy bear ears!  You made my day!  It was like watching Tigger on drugs or imagining him smoking and rocking out in his boat of a car on his way to his job.  Total awesomeness.

Tuesday commenced in just the right way.

Decoy Duck

I have a new friend and he’s a decoy duck.  He’s old and his black paint is wearing off.  He’s sort of cool, if you’re into that kind of thing, although he doesn’t have a fancy paint job or racing stripes. He’s a pretty plain guy and my cat tries to body slam him on the regular and play with his price tag just to annoy me.  I might take my plain little decoy camping with me next time so I can trick all the wild ducks into believe he’s the real freaking deal and then woo the lady ducks with his sweet sweet loving.  So he’s plain looking, so what!  Doesn’t mean he’s not the suavest decoy you’ve ever seen. I will name him Sampson or Sherman and he’ll float next to me in the water when I’m sunbathing on a floatie in the lake.  It’ll be a beautiful friendship based upon companionship and mutual regard.  He’s old and wise.  He’s seen many a lake in his day.

Goddamn it…I can’t pretend anymore!!!  #%&*%  SAMPSON!!!  $%*&% SHERMAN!!

The truth is…I never wanted an antique decoy duck.

So there we were, at the antique auction.  The hubs had bid on some items that he needed to pay for STAT, so I was left alone in the crowd with the bidding card.  And I really can’t be trusted with a bidding card or with much else (my honesty and self-depreciation is ass-tounding).  James (The darling hubs in question) was across the room waiting in line to pay as I sat there, not paying too much attention to whatever was up for grabs at the moment.

Suddenly a commotion began in James’ direction.  There was frantic hand waving, grotesque hurry-up facial expressions of pure panic.  It was James.   Surely he was dying, surely something of great import was happening.  And he was motioning for all he was worth in MY direction?  What?  WHAT????  WHAT DID THE BASTARD WANT????

My first thought was that there was no reason in heaven or in hell that he could want me.  He had money to pay for his items, there was nothing he could possibly want from me in such a frenzy.  And he didn’t look like he was dying.  I mean he was…dying of something, but not an ailment.  And then another thought…In a split second… I knew what he wanted.  He wanted whatever damn object was up for bid at the moment…and I must bid on this beautiful piece of antiquity post HASTE!!  OR else all would be LOST!! I didn’t even know what it was…but I put up my card because goddamnit….he was losing his mind and he wanted me to bid, now, now, NOW!!

$45 the auctioneer cried.

I looked. The item up for bid?

A sad looking plain black decoy duck.

I looked around frantically.  Something was wrong.  Things were not right.  Why would Hubs want a decoy duck?  It’s not his antique speed at all!  This speed was much slower and the price was not right!!  It wasn’t a tool, it’s wasn’t furniture, and he’s not even into fishing, hunting, elking or ducking paraphernalia!

Confusion reined supreme in my sorry sad little breast.  (I said BREAST!!  HAHA!)

I looked at the hubs for help because I was too dumbfounded to understand what in the WORLD was happening.

He was looking at me with his mouth open.  A look that said…”what are you doing?  You’re not doing the right thing AT ALL!!  How could you misinterpret my frantic hand signals and my twisted up ‘I’m gonna die  if you don’t bid RIGHT NOW’ face?  That wasn’t what I was thinking AT ALL!!  YOU DUMMY!!  NOW LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE!!”

And then in a split second…the hubs’ facial expression turned to …of all things holy… amusement.

Now I knew something was wrong.  That smile said it all, that grin that said I had screwed up and it was HILARIOUS!!

Oh no.  Oh NOOOO!!!!

OH NO…OH NO!!!!

WAIT.  STOP!!

I’ve made a mistake!!  I don’t want it!!  I take it BACK!!!  Where’s the card for taking back your bid?  Turn it over?  Use the blank side?  What’s the code?  What’s the etiquette?

OH NOOOO…I’m supposed to just suck it up?  NO!!  The sign says…no takebacks!!

Oh god….where are all the other cards?  Where are the bids???

SOMEONE ELSE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE BID ON THIS DAMN DUCK!!!

Now I was frantic.  And the auctioneer kept saying….”I have $45, do I hear $50??

The silence around me was extreme.  There was no sound of cards flying into the air, no papercuts in all directions.  NOTHING!!  No one!!

Going once….

Going TWICE…  (nothing, someone?? Something?  Please?!!!!  I’ll pay you people to BID.  PLEASE!!)

SOLDDDDDDD!!!”

CONGRATULATIONS you have won a decoy DUCK!!

The ignominy!

The horrified cheapskate-spend-thrift-penny-pincher that resides inside me was blossoming into a white hot rage at the hubs.  $45 for something we didn’t even want!  HE TRICKED ME!!!  HOW DARE HE!!  And the worst part…

Here now… my decoy duck, floating blithely down the aisle in the hands of a worker bee, looking right at me and as his cold hard wooden little body slid into my hands, I heard “Thank you!” from the delivery person.

My humiliation was complete.  I was the proud owner of a decoy duck that I did not desire.  I had been duped.  It’s not the right word, but I felt that I had been cuckolded.  I had!  I REALLY HAD!!  I had been had in the worst possible way!!  Molested out of my hard cash!  And by a duck without a fancy paint job and by my own SPOUSE!!  The rage that burned in my heart!  $45!!!

The hatred that was brewing in my heart for the remainder of my time alone was extreme and my hand clenched the card and I forced myself not to raise it for any reason whatsoever.  Even though the desire that your hand has at an auction is to bid on EVERYTHING!!  It’s like money doesn’t exist…you just want to bid!  For fun!  But I resisted, held strong because that hard little $45 wooden body in my hands was a constant reminder that the hubs had tricked me.  He has caused me to be foolish.  To bid on something I didn’t want.  What on EARTH could he have wanted me for?  What was so important that frantic hand waving and death mask facial expressions were warranted?  By God….he had caused me to spend $45 on something I didn’t even want! (repetition is my forte).  Holy Hell, I could have bought so many things with $45 and now all I had to show for my money was something that I could put in a bonfire next summer.  Nooooo!!!

When the hubs came back to sit down beside me, grinning, he laughed.  HE LAUGHED at me and my duck.   And told me that he didn’t even want anything important AT ALL!! That’s right, he didn’t want anything but to ask me a dumb question and he DARED to claim that his arm waving, beckoning motions and I’m about to poop face were not as extreme as I made them out to be.  BULLSHIT!!  And he sort of thought my duck was kind of cool.  In an ugly duckling kind of way.

And the kicker….he told me he would happily pay $45 for that story and he couldn’t wait to bandy that story around to all our friends and family.  The story of how Victoria won herself an old crummy decoy duck.  and SHE PAID $45 for it!!!  A HAHAHAHAHA!!!!  (Trust me…my friends notice the duck when they come over…he’s a showpiece, he has swagger and daring do, despite his lack of racing feathers)

So now that you’ve enjoyed a $45 story, please feel free to donate to my duck fund.  I have decided upon a collection of ducks.  A family.  A gaggle.  Whatever it is one calls a lot of ducks.  Afterall, once is a horrifying mistake, twice is on purpose and three times is a goddamned hording problem.  And by GOD, I would rather have a hording problem than admit to a horrifying $45 laugh out loud to my family and friends, mistake.

Good DAY!! Friend Sampson and I have some fishing to do.  Or duck hunting or ducking or whatever it is people do with decoy ducks.  Maybe just some lady duck love.  Either way, we’ll be floating easy on the lake this summer.

No one laughs at me or my duck.  So there.

Grilled Cheese and Soup

From the mouth of James Sawyer : Husband of Victoria

So you might be wondering why grilled cheese and soup? What is so interesting about grilled cheese and soup? Honestly, not much….aside from being just plain delicious. However, in the context of the rest of this blog post, perhaps you will find it slightly more engaging.(probably not)

So this one Saturday started off like most, where your wife kicks you out of the house. I didn’t do anything wrong to be kicked out of the house entire neighborhood, but apparently my presence was going to be somewhat disruptive to some hen gathering (I know sexist and rude) Victoria was playing host to, so I made myself scarce. I took my Jeep and headed for the hills….literally. I won’t bore you with the details of the overgrown trails and lost homesteads I found deep in the woods. They tell a story that could never be done justice by a short blog post. This story actually doesn’t even begin until I returned home late in the afternoon.( OK admittedly, I received a phone call giving me permission to return)(cue whip cracks from the peanut gallery)

Apparently Victoria and the other ladies had worked up quite an appetite, but were still busy stirring their cauldron (Again, likely sexist but I have no idea what they were doing). Much to their surprise I offered up my services to prepare dinner. I’m sure there was some skepticism on the part of Victoria and the others as to whether this was even going to be edible. Despite this, I even offered up several choice of fine cuisine based on whatever limited options the cupboards contained. The selected delicacy of choice was, yes you got it, grilled cheese and soup.

I cooked up the grilled cheese  and bacon tomato soup with copious amounts of love and called the ladies to the table. They seemed to be surprised that I had taken the time to set the table and place each plate with a fair amount of thought. (I don’t ever do this under normal circumstances) However, I figured any job worth doing was worth doing right, so I admittedly put in the effort to impress.  I received a few compliments at the time and even some in the days to follow. Victoria still claims I was giving them a false impression of how good a husband I am. (that was my intention)

The point of this story is that grilled cheese and bacon tomato soup is delicious; Victoria and the others never should’ve been skeptical of how delicious it was going to be.  I hope this story reads like a fable and you will never again be caught wondering whether your husbands cooking will make you wretch or have you begging for more. You will remember this story and know that he went out of his way to prepare you a delightful meal that will give others the impression he is a culinary master. (I am).

Notifications of Awesomeness

I just downloaded this sweet little app for my phone called NOM, AKA, Notifications of Mindfulness and I thought I’d write a blog post about it because today NOM let me know that I should be a fucking super star!  HELL YES!!

Since I’ve been in therapy I’ve been trying to increase my mindfulness.  And for the most part, I’ve been failing!  Once in a while you realize…I am being totally mindful right now without even realizing it…and this is usually when you’re engrossed in something so deeply that all your concentration is on what you’re doing (like when I was shoveling my deck the other day..what joy! Or when I’m playing with my cat.  Animals are always mindful and being bitten and scratched by a kitten will definitely get you there!).  Other times you are lost within your head, in thoughts, which means you are not being mindful of what is actually happening in your life.  And let me tell you…most of the suffering in this world is created during those times stuck in your mind!  That’s why we need to GET the hell OUT!!

So in an effort to be mindful, I thought…I just need someone to send me a text several times a day, reminding me to be mindful in the moment I receive the text.  Sounds pretty simple, right? Too bad no one seems to offer this service!  WTH?!  There’s a market people!!  But then I thought…well…they must have an app for that.  They meaning the interwebs.  It has to exist!

So I searched in my Google Play store for an app for my Droid phone.  Yup…I said DROID.  Judge me Apple users!  Anywhoo…there were lots of mindfulness apps, but I couldn’t find one that did exactly what I wanted it to do, until I found NOM.

The cool thing about NOM is that for only $1.50 you can have this cool little app on your phone which will allow you to enter your own mindfulness quotes, saying and reminders.  That’s the awesomest part in the world.  You can customize it to kick you in the pants on a regular basis and remind you to be mindful!  YES!!  And to me…this is sweet.  I don’t want some random quotes coming up that don’t have anything to do with me or my struggle and there are plenty of apps that will do this.  And they can be helpful too.  But I think having the ability to customize is pretty freaking sweet.

So, here’s a list of a few of the quotes and sayings I entered into NOM (I apologize that I don’t have who said the quote because I didn’t add that into the app):

You must live in the present.  Launch yourself on every wave.  Find your eternity in each moment.

What screws us up most in life is the picture in our head of how it’s “supposed” to be.

Thoughts are like waves.  We can’t stop them from coming, but we can choose which ones to surf.

Tell the negative committee that meets in your head, to sit down and shut up.

Stop worrying so much.  Worrying is using your imagination to create things you don’t want.

I feel my emotions and my pain.  I reawaken my passion.  I surrender to this moment.

Everything you’re running away from is in your head.

Don’t grasp, don’t reject, just notice.

Don’t believe everything you think.  Thoughts are just thoughts.

So…you get the idea.  I can enter all kinds of kick me in the pants advice to myself and it pops up randomly during the day.  (and yes, you can control the settings as well for when the reminders show up.)  I love that randomly, when I might be having a bad day or have to make a tough decision or am feeling tired and uninspired, I can see something that reminds me to be a fucking super star in this moment!  Or to have gratitude for the things I have…it just gives me a new perspective and can change the outcome of my day…

What can you do today that will remind you to be a fucking super star?  (BTW…thanks Ev, I think I got this from one of your many FB postings!  Love it!!)

And now…for your reading enjoyment…an article about the 9 Essential Habits of Mentally Strong People. 

Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue, These Flowers Are Dying and So Are You

I’ve never been a very “girly” girl.  As a child I hated anything with lace, frills or flounces.  I can remember my mom trying to dress me in pink ruffles and I was not having it, at all. I was in tears, stomping around the house.  I’ve never liked pink very much (except maybe florescent highlighter pink) and I’ve never been into hearts either.  I think I always wanted to be dressed in red and black or some kind of tight leather cat suit.  I wanted to be sexy, a temptress, not bubblegum pink lace and flounces.  So….as you can probably guess, Valentine’s Day has never been a particular favorite of mine and in thinking about it, I’ve decided that it’s downright commercial and pretty damn annoying.

Here’s you, if you somehow completely forgot that this coming Friday is the day of love, Valentine’s Day.  You get out of work and hurrah, it’s freaking Friday night and the intro to the blessed weekend you’ve been waiting for all week.  Nice!  You get home and things are going just fine cause you actually have an excuse for that glass of wine or beer you’ve been wanting all week.  Afterall, every damn weekend is a “special occasion”  whereby calories don’t count and you get to drink whatever you want.  It’s an adults party that comes around once a week and you live for that party.

So you go inside the house and there is the spouse or girlfriend or boyfriend or whomever you happen to cohabitate with.  They’ve got big trusting kitten eyes and steepled joyful anticipation fingers because of course you remembered that it’s Valentine’s Day and you’ve got BIG plans!  Did you make dinner reservations?  Where are the flowers?  Box of Chocolates?  Hallmark Card?

Your poor little red heart stops.  Valentine’s Day?  Whaattt???  Goddammit!! (speaking of goddammit, I love saying it and writing it…but what does it mean?  I guess it means you are asking God to Damn things for you?  That sounds pretty presumptuous!  So…I’m just letting God know, not to actually damn the things I’m goddamming.  It’s a figure of speech! Gawd!)  Anyway…you’ve just realized that it’s V-Day and you’ve got absolutely NOTHING and the spouses smile falls off their face and onto the floor in 2 seconds flat.  Now the tears are hovering in their big trusting kitten eyes and the lip is trembling because…. You FORGOT??!!!  HOW DARE YOU!!  BASTARD!!  You are now officially in contempt of your relationship, bang the gavel, put on the cuffs because it’s time for solitary confinement.  Lead the criminal away.

This is what Valentine’s Day has done to you.  It has set you up for failure.  Even if you remembered, whatever you’ve done is not going to be good enough.  There was the anticipation that you were going to do “more” to prove your love for the spouse.  Afterall, it’s not like you prove your love for them every damn day by not LEAVING them.  (ha).  No, you have to prove your love on this one certain day that comes once per year.  (Well, you also have to prove your love on several other occasions, like anniversaries, birthdays, etc and Anniversaries are annoying because you inevitably forget).

Say no to Flowers and Death on Valentine's Day!
Say no to Flowers and Death on Valentine’s Day!

So let’s say you did remember and you brought the spouse some lovely flowers, expensive flowers.  Yeeha right?!  No.  No….not at all.  Flowers are the most depressing thing you can get.  I know lots of women love to get flowers, in fact I hear them talking about it, how they love having fresh flowers in the house, etc, etc.  Me, on the other hand…no thank you!  Flowers are just a reminder of DEATH!!  How lovely is it to get your loved one something that looks so beautiful and fresh and young today and then in a few days  it shrivels up and dies and you have to dispose of it!  It’s a cruel cruel reminder of how young and fresh we once were and now we’re old and used up and soon we’ll be in the compost heap!  I’m serious!  So depressing.  Unless of course you are actually young…and then it’s okay because you aren’t used up yet, you are still young and fresh and haven’t a thought for death.

I’ve never received flowers from my spouse.  And I’m okay with that.  Number one, he’d never think of it and number 2, I’d rather not receive flowers anyway.  Give me a house plant any day over flowers.  I might kill it in a few months, but at least it was alive and growing in a pot and not cut and murdered in a glass vase.  (This is making me laugh right now because one of my girlfriends doesn’t want potted plants in the house because then there’s DIRT in the house.  She cracks me up.  Secondly, what a hypocrite I am…my negligence to house plants is apparently okay (also known of as plant murder) but flower murder by someone else and presented as a gift is not okay.  Moving on…) I feel like every time I’ve ever received flowers in my life it was just awkward.  I don’t know why…I guess me and flowers just never mixed well.

So…now you’ve celebrated your love with something beautiful that is going to die in just a few days (perhaps forecasting the future of your love?), it’s now time for the other obligatory consumer related crap that you’re supposed to present to your loved one.  Like cards that say things you don’t mean or something you completely forgot it said after you hand it over and the person reading it is touched for maybe 2 seconds that you could pick out such a well written card (you speak the same language and you recognize flowery bullshit when you see it! Congrats honey!) and then your loved one promptly forgets whatever it said.  Real nice. Give me a handwritten 2 sentence note from my loved one any day!  It could even say something stupid like…your hair looks pretty today.  Or sometimes you smell nice. Or I liked it when I peeked in the shower and I saw your bum.  Or…your cat was biting me this morning and then fell into the shower and scratched the shit out of me and it made me remember how much I LOVE YOU and how glad I am you wanted a cat!!

Then there are the other obligations like chocolates or dinner reservations (which could be cool, I guess, cause who doesn’t like good food and wine and your loved one).  But really it’s just an excuse to spend money.  This is also why we rarely ever celebrate our anniversary either, because why?  We recognize that this is the day that marks the time we got married several years ago and then we move on.  Cause we love each other EVERY damn day!  And we say we love each other and we do little things for each other, so we don’t need some grand gesture or money spent to prove that we love each other.  And this is why Valentine’s Day is lame.  Happy V-Day!! (Venereal Disease day!! YEA!!)

As an aside, why don’t I get depressed and reminded of my mortality by vegetables?  They are also a plant item that we bring into our home to eat and often some of it goes uneaten and we have to throw it to the compost?  I guess I only feel this way about flowers because you don’t eat them or use them in any useful way.  You just…look at them.  I don’t know.  It makes me seem like I don’t appreciate beauty.  But I doooo!  Give me a painting of flowers and I’ll hang it on my wall…but don’t give me something that is going to die and rot into the water and get all slimy.  This might also be why I can’t really own pet fish anymore, because when they die, it’s just so depressing and slimy.

So…love each other EVERY DAY!!  Don’t wait until Valentine’s day and don’t feel obligated to spend crazy money on your loved one.  If you don’t do anything for V-Day and your loved one gets pissed, this blog post will not be here when you decide to prove to them why you don’t need to provide gifts on love holidays.  I can’t be held responsible.  I am not a doctor or a licensed love-ologist.  You are on your own!  At your own RISK!

Judge me world!  Do it!  There I said it!  Valentine’s Day is DUMB!  And so are flowers!  And girly shit like ruffles and pink bows!  When you finally want to accept me…  I’ll be over here in my leather cat suit with a french tickler!  Then we can tango!

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