Saturday, March 31, 2012

C**ksucker Blues - Once More With Feeling

I have a neighbor who likes to scream obscenities at his housemate...pretty much any time he's home.   My hearing loss makes it difficult to make out exactly what he yells, but I can tell it's really good when my kids' eyes bug right out of their little heads.  

My husband and children will announce, "that guy's doing it again" and I strain to hear this Aria of Profanity for myself, to no avail. 

I've heard reports of him performing "Open the Motherfucking Door You Motherfucking Douche Bag", "Who The Fuck Cares What You Think" and a handful of other choice ditties, but never had the pleasure of hearing them clearly myself.  

His rendition of "You're a Worthless Sack of Shit and I Hope You Die" will have you leaning over the edge of your lawn chair to get a better view of the show.

So, Profane Neighbor O'Mine, please, if you're going to continue to live with someone who pisses you off so thoroughly that you need to express yourself in such an obnoxious manner, either learn to project AND enunciate or rant in my general direction so I can read your lips!  I'M MISSING THE WHOLE CONCERT!!

And if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to hear "Cocksucker Blues" once more.  With feeling.

Thank you.

Friday, March 30, 2012

Meatsicles and Lemon Slushies

Apparently my refrigerator felt threatened by the incredibly cool temperatures in the freezer above and has decided to have a nervous breakdown. 

It keeps things cold, but it does its job too well.   Most of its contents are frozen. 

Greek Yogurt shouldn't give you brain freeze!

I have limited counter space in my kitchen, so even the produce that normally could be kept out on the counter, ISN'T, because there's just no place to put it.  I think I'm going to have to throw away most of it, since the lettuce is solid, the condiments are like sludge and I don't even know what happened to the eggs.  I'm betting it's not good.  Nothing is safe in there!
I like ice in my drinks, but I don't like the entire drink to actually BE ice. On the plus side, the lemonade slushy was rather tasty.  Who wants to come over for lunch?  Anyone?

Hey, I still have ham!
Can I interest you in a meatsicle?

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Penis Lawn Art Update.

I promised to update you on any changes on the whereabouts of the mannequin pieces I previously wrote about HERE, and because that wasn't enough, HERE.

Only a day or two after my last posting, the most curbside pieces had disappeared, leaving that last one alone to moon the street.  My next drive-by found the mooning butt-cheeks had been emblazoned with the number 35.

Since I neglected to get a photo of this, I'll recreate it with a Paint program:

Let's take a closer look at that recreation: 

Why the number?  Why 35?  (I can hear you, and I'll acknowledge the possibility that it was part of someone's birthday prank, but that explanation is far too simple for my taste.  I'm just sayin'.)

And then...butt-cheek number 35 was gone as well.  All three have disappeared from the lawn.  Where they  went, I have no idea.  Perhaps they've gotten jobs as end tables, or stools or maybe they're back to working the underwear section at Kohl's.  All I know is that they have not been replaced with anything and I worry that their absence has left the neighbors fearing what will come next.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Speaking of My Cat's Bitch, Brinkley...

It's his birthday.
He's five years old today.

What started out as this:

Has since become this:

Happy Birthday, Brinkley, you big chicken! 

Monday, March 26, 2012

Crotchety Cat Lives on Borrowed Time

If you'll look to the right (sorry, I changed my layout, I mean LEFT) of your screen, you'll see my cat, Zoe.   We recently had a little scare with Zoe.  She had a hole in her neck.  A HOLE.  Not just a little boo-boo of a puncture wound, but an entire hole through which you could see the tendons in her neck.  It was very, very, veryveryvery gross.  

This horrific looking hole was spotted on a Friday afternoon, and the veterinarian we use was closed for the weekend.  She didn't appear to be in any pain and she was acting normally as far as her eating and drinking goes, but we feared that this was the end of Zoe.  She's 17 years old, so it's not like we weren't expecting this at some point.  We spent that weekend mentally preparing ourselves to have her euthanized on Monday.

Monday came, and we got her in to see the doctor.  He suggested that it was a bite wound.  A what?  Zoe doesn't fight with anyone and no one dares fight with HER.  She's Queen Bee in this house.  Even the dog sits very patiently until she's finished whatever she wants of his food before he goes in to eat.  I don't even think she really likes his food.  She just does it because she can.  And because Brinkley is SO her bitch. 

I'm digressing, I realize.  

The vet gave us an oral antibiotic to help boost her healing, to which I said inwardly, "This will never work, but we'll give it a shot."

I'm glad to say I was wrong.  It's working!  What was once a half inch hole in the cat's neck, is now a teeny little scab, no bigger than an eighth of an inch in diameter.  I honestly can't believe it.

She still has that mysterious lump on her belly and rancid fish breath but she's eating and drinking and pooping normally and we're all thankful to still have her around.  Especially Brinkley.

Zoe tweets @CrotchetyCat.

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Oh, What Now?

How the hell do you top a post dedicated to vaginal probing?
You don't.

See you Monday.

Friday, March 23, 2012

Scene From The Stirrups **TMI Warning**

**Warning! Bajingo Talk And Monkey Cries Ahead.**  

More sensitive readers may want to skip it.  Count the ceiling tiles and proceed to your happy place at the end of the post.
I think all my ladies are familiar with this scene from the stirrups.

As for the rest of you, I’m going to take you on a magical journey.  Put your feet up in the stirrups and get comfy while I regale you with my tale. 

I finally had a pap smear done this week (after six years) and have to say it went pretty pap smears go.  

Dr. Chuck has been the man in charge of All Things Health Related for my family since I was in the seventh grade.  We’ve been around the medical world and back again with him, so having a more personal exam done like this was only minimally embarrassing, as Chuck has the best bedside manner of anyone I know.  He’s not Chuck Norris, but he might as well be.   He’s just that good.

Let's see...what else...? Oh, yeah! I asked him about my cholesterol and he said, "You're golden." So yay for me! I should NOT be afraid to go full gusto into an exercise program (i.e. walking, cycle of doom, weights) and get into it 110%. I am not a time bomb, he says. "You need to stop being afraid you're going to burst into flames on the sidewalk. You're ONLY 40." (Do you see why I adore him?  Such a comfort!)

So I got a pap.  I also got a prescription for a mammogram.  It's time for the squishing.  Last one I got when I was 35 and my mom had just been diagnosed with breast cancer.  I like my boobs.  I plan to keep them for a while. 

In an effort to see why my monthly friend has decided to come down so hard on me every time she visits, Chuck thought we should schedule a pelvic ultrasound, wondering if fibroid cysts were the cause.  It really would be awesome to be able to have a normal seven day flow again instead of the Four Day Tsunami followed by three days of "Well, that sucked, but at least you know you're not pregnant".    

The hospital called that same day and as luck would have it, there was an appointment available for a pelvic ultrasound the next morning.  Well, that was fast. 

My vagina doesn’t usually get this much action two days in a row

I joked with my girlfriends that a stranger would be probing my more intimate bits the next day...and then I realized something: The technician won’t just stick her little magic wand in and let it sit. She’ll have to move it around to get the best pictures.  So…making hooting noises like a Howler Monkey would not be wise at that moment.  In fact, I would probably be asked to leave.   

But I couldn't resist.  

My ultrasound tech said my monkey impression was by far the best monkey impression ever.  

Next time I'll have to throw my voice.

**If you read through all that after I warned you not to, I'm sorry for the traumatizing content.  Please enjoy this picture of a lovely golf course  far, far away from my vagina:

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Fish Tank Update: Paula Abdul is a Zombie.

More news from the fish tank, folks.  Waldo, one of the new bubble-bellied mollies, bit the dust last week.  I've made the appropriate notes on the clipboard, don't worry.

Tiffany and Debbie Gibson are not getting along.  Tiffany seems to have her tail out of joint about something and wants to vent to Debbie about it, but Debbie doesn't want to hear about it and swims away as soon as she gets too close to her.

Steamboat Willie (the Mickey Mouse Platy) is worse than Tiffany with this business of clinging to tankmates.  He decided that Rocky (the Sunrise Platy) was "like totally super cool, y'know" and followed her everywhere she went.  When we thought she had died of exhaustion trying to escape Willie's constant stalking, I unearthed the volcano (I'm such a goddess) and...gave away her hiding place.  :(  If fish could roll their eyes and sigh...   Poor Rocky.

We also lost Paula Abdul (neon tetra).  I thought we were down to three, with both Randy and Paula gone, so I was shocked to discover that there are still FOUR remaining neon tetras in the tank.  I mean, fish lay eggs, right?  They don't reproduce with mitosis, they lay EGGS.  So where the hell did this other neon tetra come from?!

I knew I shouldn't have buried Paula Abdul in the Pet Cemetery.

Now I've got a freaking zombie fish. 

Freaking zombies, man.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Stop Me Before I Kill Again!

Spring finds me with a fire under my ass and the need to plant things.  The problem is, my thumbs are very very brown.  

I don't know what it is about the spring that makes me suddenly don my World's Best Gardener hat in place of my trusty Serial Plant Killer one, but it does and I start out with so much passion, you'd think I'd never killed a plant in my life.

Sadly, it doesn't last.  

By mid-summer, you'll find me poolside with a drink in my hand and a radio turned up, surrounded by the Neglected, the Weed-Ridden and the Slowly Decaying, as I musically relive 1985 in a lawn chair, oblivious to their pain.

I discover sometime in June that I'm not much of an outdoor person.  Summer is frigging HOT!  Unless I'm going swimming, I don't want to be out there, and I think my plants know it.

They're probably sitting in their little seed packages, right now placing their bets on which of them will actually bear fruit this year.  I wouldn't put my money on any of them making it.

I'm sorry, future members of my soiled garden, I have spring fever and I can't help myself.  You will all die slow, painful deaths, drowned in an overexcited watering frenzy, choked by weeds and then ignored and left to rot.  

It's not you, it's me.


Saturday, March 17, 2012

The Bulging Boulevard Boys - Day Two

I know I promised to get a better picture of the Penis De Milo, and although this one is more in focus, it seems that one of them was feeling shy today.  Either that or he's peeing on the house while he's supposed to be in Time Out.   Then again, maybe it's a Blair Witch Project kind of thing.

You make the call. 

Someone was naughty.

I hope they're not some kind of perverted Chia Pet.  (I'll keep you posted as to any other changes.)

Friday, March 16, 2012

Is that a penis in your yard?

When did mannequin parts become a popular choice in lawn decor?  
Penis De Milo?

I wanted to ask that very question of the people who own this house, but I was too afraid to knock on the door and ask, for fear of being thrown into a well in the basement and told to put the lotion on my skin.   

Lucky for you, gentle reader, I wasn't too afraid to drive slowly by and have my ten-year-old take a picture, hoping that no one was home to see us gawking at The Three Pelvises stationed in front of their house. If anyone had come out to ask me, I would have told them "It's for my blog!  People need to see this!" I drove away, cackling.

So you see, it was purely for your benefit that I snapped this picture; to expose you all to what I believe may be the new height of modern art.   It's clearly a collection of an abbreviated form of Michelangelo's David.

Don't give me any bull about being able to see this kind of "art" at any clothing store in the mall.   I can't even tell you the last time I saw a naked mannequin at the mall, excepting the time when I walked past a salesclerk wrestling the pants off a member of his display personnel.  I felt like I had just interrupted the filming of a horrifically disturbing rape scene in which the victim had first been dismembered, when he looked guiltily up at me.  One look seemed to say, "What happens at the mall before business hours, stays at the mall"... until it's written on my blog for all of you to read. 

Where was I headed with this?  Oh, yes.

Exposure to the arts.  You needed it, I'm providing it.  

 You're welcome.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

The Best Forking Spoons You'll Ever Buy.

I was browsing the kitchen stuffs on Ebay and ran across a listing for a set of multi-colored measuring spoons with a "buy it now" price of $1,043.46 

What an exorbitant amount for a set of measuring spoons! Surely there must be something else about them that makes them so special, like they're, oh, I don't know...magical...or made of Plutonium or just the best damned spoons you'll ever buy.

I had to know.  

So I asked the seller this question:  "Do these measuring spoons contain Plutonium? Is that why they're listed for so much? I'd like Plutonium measuring spoons..."

I patiently await his response...

...and I'm kind of hoping they're Plutonium.   

Update!  I got a reply.  It might be easier to just show you what was said, so I'll quote our correspondence here:

Subject: Details about item: RandomNinja sent a message about Farberware Color Measuring Spoons, Mixed Colors, Set of 5 #250989733747
Sent Date: Mar-14-12 21:27:07 PDT

Dear GuyWhoSellsSpoons,

Do these measuring spoons contain Plutonium? Is that why they're listed for so much? I'd like Plutonium measuring spoons...
- RandomNinja 

Dear RandomNinja,

It's a typo .
we will fix it shortly.
Thank you


 Dear GuyWhoSellsSpoons,

Damn. I really could've used that Plutonium.

- RandomNinja




Clearly, GuyWhoSellsSpoons doesn't care about my Plutonium needs.  "Responded".   Indeed!

I was curious to see what the new asking price of these magical, wondrous spoons had been changed to, so I clicked on the link at the bottom of the email.   $1034.51!!   What the...?

I was not satisfied.  So I emailed him again: 

Dear GuyWhoSellsSpoons,

Wait. So now the buying price is $1,034.51?? I have to ask what the hell these spoons are really made of.

- RandomNinja
I haven't gotten a reply from this last yet, but when I checked the site ten minutes later it was $1031.53.  I think these things really must be made of Plutonium and he's just not being straight with me.

Now I HAVE to have them. Who can loan me a grand?

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Bristol Gets Tanked

I had intended to announce that four new fish were added to the ranks yesterday.  The Man brought home two Balloon Mollies, a Mickey Mouse Platy and an Albino Bristle-nose Plecostomus. 

As of ten o'clock last night, three of the newbies were happily sharing the tankspace with the others, but the Pleco was nowhere to be seen.  

This morning, I discovered the albino didn't make it.   The Man doesn't seem to think the casualties should be recorded unless they make it one full day, but I am far too serious about this Death Toll-keeper job to get caught up on technicalities.  

*writes down Albino Bristle-nose Plecostomus - Bristol Palin - /3/14/12 - RIP*

Welcome, surviving newcomers, Ringo, Waldo, and Steamboat Willie.  We hope you enjoy your stay.

Happy trails, Bristol.

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Buttcrack Hero - In Stereo

Sometimes my life is steeped in the ridiculous. (What fun would this blog be if it wasn't?)
Last week's blissful existence was derailed by a little slip that prompted this late night mobile status update on Facebook:   "Sonofamotherbutthumper, one of my hearing aids fell down the cold air return vent. And it wasn't even the one that whistles incessantly. Furking FURK!"

Oh, the drama, right?  Well, I knew it was NOT going to be found that night, so I went to bed and tried to dream of happier things...happier things that cost less money to replace than a $2000 hearing aid.  That was difficult. 

The next morning, the search began.  

I tried to look for it myself, in the logical place, which was the cold air return vent directly below my room.  I know that gravity makes stuff basically fall straight down and not up.  I'm a genius like that.  Of course, I had zero luck finding it, so The Man called the furnace maintenance company who sent over a lovely gentleman with ill-fitting pants to rescue my hearing aid from...wherever stuff goes when it falls down that vent. 

I've mentioned before that people don't believe me when I tell them I'm very hard of hearing.  This time proved to be no different as he lay on the floor with his ass-crack in the air and spoke into the vent, looking for my missing hearing aid.  So as not to hover over the man while he worked (I didn't really need to watch his butt get any more air), I excused myself and went back to my business on the computer.  He came in periodically to ask me stuff and managed to startle me every time.  It was as if he forgot that what he was looking for was a hearing aid and that it was MINE. 

Um...that thing you're trying so hard to find?  Yeah, I kind of need it to hear you, dude.  

It took three hours of search and rescue attempts with lots of banging around and cutting holes in things to locate it, but he did eventually find that mysterious place where lost things go in our house and retrieved my precious battery-operated listening device.  It didn't even cost me $400 to get my hearing aid back.  
It cost $381.99.  

But just look at all the other stuff he rescued as well! He found...*takes deep breath*...

 One silver needle, a broken rosary, purple Mardi Gras beads, a plastic princess lipstick, one beaded bracelet, a plastic french fry, six Barbie shoes, one Barbie bathing suit, one Barbie nightshirt, four barrettes, one hair tie, three screws, one nut, three marbles, a Baby Annabel pacifier clip, a purple, plastic boat propeller, a silver pompon, one AA battery, an orange crayon, ten pieces of Barbie dog kibble, four checkers, one yellow Lego (which is actually from the previous owners of the house, meaning that it's been in there for probably twenty years or longer), ten plastic beads, one key-chain, a Mommy's Little Patient "magic" baby spoon, a button, miscellaneous My Little Pony accessories, Green M&M on a skateboard, one Phonak Amio hearing aid and twelve cents.


Sadly, I'm left to wonder what's disappeared down the other vents in our house.  I'm not curious enough to pay the Buttcrack Hero nearly $400 to find out. 

Now that that's over and done with, I'm happy to say I can get back to the things that matter.  
Those pigs don't fling irate fowl at themselves, you know.

Monday, March 12, 2012

Fishy Update - CeCe went to Sea Sea Sea.

CeCe the Sunrise Platy was found dead at the bottom of the volcano.  The Aquatic Forensics Department is baffled as to what made her throw herself in and tankmates remain tight-lipped about the incident, denying allegations that she was part of a ritual sacrifice.

*makes note on Fish Death Toll Clipboard*

Friday, March 9, 2012

KONY 2012

If you haven't yet seen the video and joined the cause, please watch it now and take it into consideration.  
We can make a difference.  

Please help.

The sales of the KONY 2012 kits have been put on hold due to such a high response, but you can still show your support by signing the pledge and downloading the kit for free.  

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Pig Sitting

We agreed to take care of Lily's former class pet over spring break as a favor to her old 4th grade teacher.  She's a guinea pig and a lovely house guest, despite being a bit of a squeaky wheel.  We'll make her comfortable here, and shower her with love and affection...provided that she follows the rules of the house.

So welcome back, Bugsly.  I hope you will enjoy your stay with us.  
Wake up call at 8 a.m.?  Of course, ma'am.  Fresh Timothy hay daily?  Very good, ma'am.  Snuggling on Sam's lap for hours at a time?  Absolutely, ma'am.  Leaving little brown Tic-Tacs on my furniture?  

Fuck you, pig.

Friday, March 2, 2012

Help for Cat People - Simple solutions to your cat problems.

The Problem:  Kitteh wants closeness, but impedes blog writing by taking up too much room on the desk or sitting right on the keyboard. 

The Solution:  Zippered Sweatshirt Kitteh Sling. 

 Now, what do I do about this one?

Some Other Stuff I Wrote