Someone stop the ride, I want off!


I was in my basement storage closet earlier today looking through some things.  While looking I found a little plastic doll.  A doll I have never seen before in my entire life.  I have no clue where this doll came from and why I have never laid eyes on her before today.  




She is a little Native American girl plastic doll about the size of my hand.  She wears a headband complete with feather and a Native American dress (see below). 



She makes me piss my lady drawers scares me, seriously. 

All I can do is imagine her showing up in random places in my home ready to kill me.


But the worst part, my Lord, is this...

Sephora and Margarita Mix



I know the post title is misleading, but I fear if I put the words "credit card" or "debt" in my post title and label tags that I will get spammed like a mother fucker.  (I just had a visual image after typing that, you don't even want to know).   Instead, I made up a random post title with words that I hope will bring in the audience I want.

Now, on to the reason of my post....

You know the good thing about paying off your credit card?  Paying off your credit card obviously.  Paying down that debt.  Using the money that would have gone to interest on things that are tangible and I can use.  Like makeup or Corona beer (light of course).

Bad thing about paying off your credit card?  When you get an annual auto deduction from husband's sports magazine.  Then forgetting about the bill until the day it is due.  Then trying to pay it online and forgetting your username ID/password and the damn account number on the card in order to reset the login information.  I used to have all that information memorized.  Now I have to get up off the couch and locate the bill or the credit card.  

Great predicament though.  Honestly.

By the way....

Dear Husband.  
Cancel that damn magazine subscription when you cancel our home phone (which is never).  I never see you read those magazines and I throw them away because clutter makes me a raging bitch.  The same clutter that contains those damn telephone books you want kept around because you believe it is quicker to look up a phone number in a book rather than online or on your phone.  Insanity!

Love
Your Wife.

PS.  Thanks for putting gas in my car yesterday because you know I don't look at the gas gauge and don't know I'm low on gas until the car dings at me.  I guess you aren't so bad after all.  I'll write a post one day complimenting the little sweet things you do for me rather than the little things you do to annoy me.

PPS.  Did you know "P.S." is latin for "post scriptum".  I googled.  When I read it, though, I only saw "piss scrotum".  You married a deviant.  You're welcome.

PPSS.  I know you don't know anything about the world of blogging but does putting the words "credit card" and "debt" in the post body lead to spam too, even though I blacklisted them from the title and label tags?  If so, then I am screwed.  

PPSST.  Here's a picture of what I'm wearing next time I put on sexy nightie for you.  It will be a juxtaposition of sexy and cozy together.  You'll be so turned on.

Pom pons are like the bees knees.

Hot Pink Furry Chairs with Faces



This is for you people who continually ask me to post more Hobo Girl baby pictures.  So here you go ho(bo)bags....  




You know what I love?

I love sleeping. 



Does anyone else my age remember those little furry chairs?



Sleeping in my sneakers.  I'm that good.


Do you know what I not love?

I don't like waking up.  

It's my Lex Luthor. 


The look above I use in two situations.  
I look like this when I first wake up. 
I look like this when I'm hung over

Ten Dangerous Things I Did As A Child And Somehow Survived


My oldest son is thirteen years old, and for this blog, I'll nickname him Prince William.  We allow PW to stay at home with his little brother, Baby Burns, for short periods of time.  But the other day when I was working, my husband had to take Baby Burns to the doctor to get his summer camp physical.  My husband suggested that Prince Wills could stay by himself while he took Burns to the doctor.  I began to panic and created scenarios of a fire burning down the house or visiting aliens coming to harm my baby.  At least when he is alone with his brother they have each other to help the other out in case of an emergency.  Like breaking an arm bone or choking on a ham bone.

Then I calmly took some deep cleansing breaths and managed to tell myself that I was really overreacting at this situation.  I reminded myself that when I was his age (and younger), I was responsible for myself and my safety and lived to tell the tale.

This leads me to the point of this post.

When I was younger I survived...

1.  Playing in a storm drain.  I just can't explain that one - it kind of speaks for itself.  Flash flooding be damned.  I was going to play in the storm drain until someone dragged me out.



2.  Trick or treating in a bad part of town. I told my mother that my friend and I were just going to trick or treat in our neighborhood.  Turns out I wanted more candy than what my neighbors could provide.  Off I went two blocks over where the hoodrats lived and begged for candy from them.  My friend had the sense to go back home and tell her mother who, in turn, called mine.  Minutes later my mother pulls up in her dark blue Monte Carlo cursing fussing at me and dragging me home.  I got spanked for that one.  And, for what?  A few measly pieces of those faux strawberry hard candies. 


3.  Twirling over a bar on the monkey bars at school.  I failed.  I landed on my face.  On the concrete.  Yes, that's right.  The school had concrete under the monkey bars and not mulch/sand/other soft material for a child to land her face on.  I knocked out one of my front teeth.  I had to be transported to the family doctor all emergency like to get twenty stitches in my chin.  I did not go back to school that day, suffice it to say.  My mom didn't sue the school district over that or anything.  They did add wood chips to the ground after that.  Bitch gets stuff done.


4.  Wrecking my best friend's grandparents moped scooter.  When I was fourteen or so years old, I vacationed with my good friend one summer.  We went with her grandparents in their RV.  They took along two mopeds with us to use.  I hit a deep patch of gravel and the moped tires did not like this.  My legs and arms suffered the wrath of the gravel and the rest of the vacation I spent trying not to reopen all my road burn scabs.

5.  Jumping in the dirty Ohio river from a swinging rope that was hanging from a tree.  I landed in knee high mud at the bottom of the river, which I'm convinced, probably had creepy critters and dead body parts lurking down there.  I don't know.


6.  Playing in the woods across the street from my houseI bored easily as a child and I took advantage of non-rainy days by playing outside.  I wouldn't be allowed outside by myself so there were times I would fib and say that I was meeting my friend to go bike riding.  On one such occasion my friend was sick and couldn't come out to play.  I decided to wander into a large section of woods alone to play where I could have gotten lost or abducted or...

7.  Found red berries and ate them.  Yes, I did this on my excursion into the woods.  I didn't see any harm in what I was doing because I spent all of my childhood chomping at honeysuckle like it was going out of style.  Nature is nature after all.

8.  Running barefoot all over the place.  I was repeatedly told to keep my shoes on when I was outside, but I was hard headed and usually managed to remove them at the first opportunity.  My mom was scared I would step on a piece of glass, a wasp or worse; a rusty nail.  One day I stepped on a wasp.  Another day I stepped on a rusty nail.  The tetanus shot I got from that made me start wearing my shoes.

9.  Hopping down stairs on one foot.  Stairs that were steep.  Stairs that were not carpeted.  Stairs that wanted to meet the palms of my hands, then my arms, and then my face. I didn't knock out any teeth this time but it was the first, of many, scrapes and bruises I would encounter. (see #4)

10.  Hiding in a folded up hideaway bed in my grandmothers attic while playing hide and seek with my cousins.  I got stuck in it and couldn't get out.  I hid there because I thought it was the perfect hiding place.  I was a competitive little shit back then and, if I had to, I would have hidden in the dirty laundry hamper with grandpa's dirty drawers just to be the victor.  Luckily one of my cousins was a master hide and seeker and found me before I suffocated to death and found dead, sandwiched in that folded up smelly bed.
    On the topic of hide and seek, I am curious if I am just the only one that this happened to.  Every time, as a child, I would play hide and seek I would invariably get the urge to pee.  It was always the first time I would hide.  I don't know if it was my bladder reacting to the excitement of it all or what.  I would be in my hiding place, holding my pee, frantically waiting on someone to find me so I could run off to the bathroom.  I was a competitive child but luckily I never held it in too long and had a hide and seek wee wee accident.  Maybe I wasn't that great a hider after all and I was found long before my spastic bladder revolted?

      The Continuous Argument over our Land Line Telephone



      My husband and I have an ongoing disagreement over our land line telephone.  I want it gone.  He does not.  Before we moved to this new house last year I had managed to get rid of our home phone.  It was bliss, BLISS!!  If someone needed us they would call our cell phone.  Simple enough.  

      Since moving, however, we have acquired another land line.  My mistake, I suppose, because I put him in charge of setting up our internet.  And wouldn't you know it he set up a home telephone account as well.  Even after I told him I didn't want one.  

      So, now, every time our damn home phone rings my blood pressure goes up.  The thing rings and it is never anyone we want to talk to.  Ever.



      My husband has his points for keeping it, while I have my points for not.  




      It is our own personal Christmas Story Sexy Leg Lamp.  Only instead of a sexyish one legged light source it is an irritating, money wasting telecommunications device.  Definitely not one of a kind like a prize that comes in a wooden box marked Frageelay.







      My argument begins:
      Please, if you love me, you'll call and cancel our home phone.  Or let me do it.

      My husband asks:
      What if we need to call someone in case of a natural disaster and all the cell towers are down?

      I say:
      We'll see if a neighbor has a phone.

      My husband:
      What if they don't?

      Me:
      Then I guess we won't be calling anyone.  I think, most times in cases of natural disasters, even land line connections are interrupted.  Wouldn't you agree?

      He says:
      No, not always.

      I say:
      Ok.  Is it worth paying $40 extra a month just in the off chance all of our cell phones are down and we have an emergency?

      He says:
      Yes.

      I say:
      You do realize the only phone we have hooked into our landline is a cordless and that requires the base be plugged into an electrical outlet to work? If there is a natural disaster I am fairly certain power will also be out.

      He says:
      Ah yes, but see, you had me buy a generator for power outages!

      Me:
      Ok, have you hooked up the generator or is it still in the box?



      He says:
      You know the answer to that, why are you asking me questions you already know?  If the power goes out before I can get it out of the box I'll work on getting it hooked up at that time.

      I say:
      Oh I see.  So you've prepared all your options of emergency communication but not our back up power?

      He says:
      I'll get it out of the box soon.  I told you this!
      By the way, while we are talking about this, what did you do with all of our telephone books?

      Me:
      I threw them out.  You already knew this.  Why are you asking me questions you already know?  :)

      He:
      Because I want to the know your reasoning again.

      Me:
      Because they are just clutter.  If you need a phone number just get on your cell and look it up - there are apps for that.

      Him:
      We should always have a phone book handy.



      Me:
      Why?

      Him:
      Because!  It's quicker sometimes to just look in the book.  Plus, what if we need a telephone number and our cell phones are dead?

      I ask:
      We get on my laptop or our desktop computer and look for the number.

      He asks:
      But what if the power is out and we can't get the internet?

      I say:
      We have a generator, remember?  Go take it out of the box and hook it up so we don't have to worry about not having internet to look up a telephone number to use the home phone that I want gone.  That same home phone that will require the generator before it is used anyway.

      Him:
      Hmph.

      Me:
      I agree.

      A Tale of Two Dogs

      Dog #1


      Daddy Cooks

       

      Steeler Looks

       

      Steeler loves watching my husband cook on the grill.  Looking through the glass door at his owner, it is as if he is watching a television program taped exclusively for him.




      Anyway, the family and I ate grilled hot dogs and hamburgers for dinner tonight.  Now I'd like to share with you something that may make me sound very odd.  


      Dog #2


      When I eat hot dogs I am VERY anal particular.  I love the taste of grilled hot dogs, but they have to be small and thin.  If they are too long and thick, I gag (insert overused Michael Scott reference here).  To combat even the possibility of me gagging, I put the hot dog in a regular sized bun and put some mustard on top of the dog.

      In case you weren't sure of the ingredients


      Wiener in the bun (snort)


      Weiner Dog


      Then I take another hot dog bun and tear it in half lengthwise and place it on top of the open side of the prepared dog - right on top of the mustard.  It's like a corn dog only not fried and not made of corn, you understand?  I find that I need more bread to hot dog ratio so that when I bite into the hot dog skin I don't notice the crunch as much. Because, you see, biting into hot dog skin makes me a gag lady.

      "Gotta keep 'em separated"


      It's like a bready bun boat!

      Beyond that, I also put some mustard on my plate and dip the dog in it so that the bread I am eating has some flavor to it.  

      Mustard Devil


      While I am at it, I dip my potato chips in the mustard.

      Mustard Explosion (interesting fact - mustard makes my husband gag)





      The end.

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