no gun show today folks

i used to get embarrassed easily, now i just get annoyed and cry.

this morning i had a meltdown in my car. i sat there, annoyed at myself for getting all worked up again. i knew that if i bothered b at work i'd hear 'why can't you pretend you're linda hamilton and you're going to kick some machine ass?! you need to be a little tougher sometimes and not so high-strung.'


instead i called the toyota dealership and cried to the service manager. and now i've come full circle because i'm extremely embarrassed about it.

i don't know about where anyone else lives, but here in the good ol' hudson valley we've had about five straight days of rain. normally, i find the rain to be refreshing, even comforting, as the sound of water drumming the leaves outside my window will often lull me to sleep.

rain takes a turn for the meaner side of irony, however, when your overpriced, gas-guzzling suv has a busted sunroof.

for the past three days i have been battling mother nature to spare the interior of my spacious vehicle. at three am last night i was convinced that my plastic wrap + garbage bag + towel contraption was the most brilliant idea i'd ever had.

and then i saw things in the light (greyness) of day.

i used to love that sunroof. its wide expanse provided me with a fresh, invigorating breeze after spending twelve hours working in a hot kitchen with nothing more than a pair of ceiling vents circulating the recycled air. there was always the issue of the bitchin' rectangle of arm-tan i'd have to work hard to avoid, constantly remembering to wear tank tops for a drive longer than 15 minutes, but aside from that no major complaints.

so now karma is having her fun with me. not only did my ass get sopping wet (through a towel) on the drive to the dealership, but i've been given a death-trap to drive for a week while they exorcise the demons controlling the sunroof positioning. the flashy yaris sport is eerily similar to the smartshitcar that i have bemoaned in the past.

when i installed the infant car seat, i noticed it was wiggling to and fro as if it were on roller skates and the backseat were a slick, polished surface instead of pleathery upholstery. luckily, little miss didn't seem to mind in the least. babies can be so accommodating sometimes.

returning home to find no viable parking and having to lug a twenty pound infant and all of her crap up an enormous hill to my front door was the icing on my day. i gave in and called b, if only to have him keep me from crying again.

he promptly told me that if i wanted a handicapped parking spot right in front of our door he'd be happy to take the yaris and run over my legs, hopefully rendering me a parapalegic and so in need of special treatment. b's always been good at giving me a little perspective on things.

on the plus side, i plan on falling asleep to the sound of the rain tonight.

friday fiver

here's a fiver for you. things i can say to my awesome kid:

1. yes honey, mommy can eat brownies for breakfast because i was so good at not cleaning
(i also just told miss yvonne this one over at her awesome super special place yo mama's blog, the best place on the internet for wolverine claw action.)

2. no, monster's butthole is not where our fingers go

3. stop looking so cute when the asshole neighbor walks by, the last thing mommy wants to do is be fake nice any more than she has to

4. yay for blasting some muse instead of napping! (loudloudloud!!)



5. when i get old i'm so going to shit my pants and smile at you and clap while you wipe my ass



finis.

this post is a way for me to not post anything of substance

ok kiddies, the time has come. bananaman will now be making himself comfortable at the following locations:




the yellow factor because jerrod loves bananas (and hanukkah)!!

either dibbly fresh or get a pencil and your casebook, both owned and operated by sadako. or i guess it's entirely possible that bananaman might like her so much that he'd hang at both her spots, but that's ultimately going to be his decision.

and lastly, i have to say that i offered up bananaman in what i thought was a fair trade to trodo over at diamond pewpin carnivore, but alas, she has yet to come and claim him. i don't want him to end up in a loveless home where he's not wanted. i'm not a bananaman pusher after all. so trodo, if you want him, he's here waiting for you.

and i think i may just have to show my true affection for the purple shirt wearing bananaman and place him here as well.

i hope everyone has a wonderful weekend, as i know i'm sure to sleep better knowing i'll always have a banana friend should i need one.

it's not cheating if it's imaginary

if i was single, and i could date a grocery store, it would be you stop & shop. not only do you have all the really great organic and all natural foodstuffs, but you sir, are quite the charmer.

flattery will get you very far with me. and if you happen to be a corporate food retailer, spread throughout multiple states, sending me fancy letters about how valued i am (my business is) will make me blush and say 'oh, you' with such convincing faux modesty that you will soon find me throwing myself at you in uncontrollable fits of passion.

that was your intended response, right?

either way, i am so filled to the brim with love for the fact that you appreciate me, dear stop & shop, that i decided that i should pay it forward. i'm going to put the fancy bananaman you gave me to good use. his toothy smile and purple smoking jacket/hawaiian shirt covered in your emblem shall live on forever on the internet, perpetually brightening the day of those who are fortunate enough to gaze upon him.

behold bananaman:



i know how badly you all want his sexiness to grace your sidebar. he's a friendly guy, ask nicely and i'm sure he'll come hang with you.

i'm a sadist*, now with more evidence

yesterday i was struck by the realization that there are not nearly enough drive-through coffee places around. as i was out with little miss, the last thing i wanted to do was strap her in, unbuckle, re-strap, and repeat more than was absolutely necessary. she doesn't even like coffee so it's not like i could bribe her to make it easier to take.

but after ultimately successfully pouring a hot cup of love in a dirty gas station while holding a wiggling baby in one arm, i felt pretty damn impressed with myself.

that is, until i got home.

upon returning from my day's activities, i spied the biggest, baddest, meanest wasp of all time buzzing about on my kitchen window screen. so naturally the first thing i did was grab a cup and something to slide under the cup. i trapped that mother so fast it didn't even know what was going on.

i set the angry wasp on the counter and weighted the glass with a lemon. it looked like this:


i giggled and clapped a little.

the wasp got angrier and flew into the glass repeatedly, methodically making it's way up and down, around its clear prison wall.

i love when i can trap bugs who think they're faster than me. i'll show you wasp, how many breaths do you have left little fella? better stop your squealing** before it's too late.

the next thing i did was run over to my computer and type b a little note:


me: when you come home i have something special waiting on the counter for you

b: uh-oh. is it a bug trapped under a glass?

me: hahaha (translate to evil cackle) it is!! it's a giant wasp!

b: oh :( i was hoping you were going to say it was beef wellington.

(no creative license needed, this was our exact conversation)



my standard procedure with bugs i find in the house is this:

1. try to get monster to eat the bug

if that fails (or is likely to fail), i then

2. trap bug under a glass and then put something on top of the glass just to make sure it's too heavy for any super bug adrenaline rush to move

the end result being that

a. b comes home and disposes of offending bug for me

(OR)

b. the bug dies a horrific death, gasping and wheezing until it finally succumbs to suffocating in a cup of irony, eyes wide open staring blankly at the great world outside of the glass barrier.


well kiddies, b had to work late last night, so guess which fate ol' mr. angry wasp was met with. that's right, he ended up like this:


poor bastard was probably holding his wings and begging for his mommy with his last breath. now if i were standing in the kitchen, waiting for it to finally expire, then i might have a problem. but i was content to only go back in and check a few times so i don't think i need an intervention or anything like that.



*a very special thank you to skitch and mjenks for the correct definition

**it was only screaming in my head

drink if you dare, or if you want to get high

this morning i sat down to a healthy breakfast of super strong coffee and a (small) handful of jelly bellys to read the local paper. now this rag has been duly mocked for its ridiculous headlines, but every once in a while i will spot something that really hits home to me.

today is was this article. i'll spare you from having to read it, the link is there more to prove i'm not making this up. apparently there were almost 20,000 cases of red bull confiscated because they contained cocaine. now it all makes sense.

as my affinity for coffee may lead you to correctly surmise, i got hooked on caffeine early in my youth. recently i was reading over at children of the 90s about surge, but i have to say i never got into that one. jolt was my gateway drug of choice.

i never did (and still don't) enjoy soda in general because i found the syrupy sweetness only made me more thirsty. but i would down a can of jolt in no time just to get the shakes that i craved so much from caffeine overdose.

once i discovered the magical powers that coffee had for my awful hangover that lasted from when i was nineteen to about twenty four, i was fully dependent. i've never gone back to energy drinks and i can't say i miss them. b, on the other hand, will relish the high that nothing else can bring like a red bull and vodka to an empty stomach.

i knew something had to be unnatural about this combo when the sweet, charming man i knew and loved turned into a raging ball of hate after only about eight large drinks. unfortunately for me, the concert we were attempting to see offered only bud, bud light, and red bull and vodkas. being the beer snob that i am, and unable to handle any liquor whatsoever, i was sullenly sober.

the more b drank, the more i counted down the minutes until we were escorted out of the concert. thanks a lot modest mouse, you sounded great from fucking outside. so as we stood in the street in front of the venue, b's apology came to me in the form of him offering up suicide as a way to garner my forgiveness.

'i'll fucking kill myself for you, is that what you want? look, i'll kill myself on this bus!!' he screamed as he attempted to run into the front end of a parked bus. after he was sure that i was thoroughly impressed with his brazen bus-suicide, he allowed me to put him in the car and drive home.

to this day, i will protest loudly if he even looks in the general direction of a stash of red bull. and now, this very morning, i am vindicated. so what the coke was found in china, it still could end up in american red bull somehow, and for that i feel justified in breaking b's habit. i'm not a nagging wife, i'm a champion of heart health and savior of parked buses in the greater ny metro area.

and now that it's nearly 10 am, i need to go make another pot of coffee for my late morning fix.

my long weekend didn't do much for my writing skills

i think google is mad at me. i might have pushed it over the edge when i didn't want to look up the proper meaning of sadist vs. masochist.

google feels threatened that i no longer care about finding out the exact meanings of things and that i can live my life happily ever after with unanswered questions floating around in my head.

you know what google, not everyone needs to search things all the time. so stop letting all that shitty junk mail into my inbox to try and make me pay attention to you, or guess what, i'll boycott your ass. i'll start writing real letters and mailing them to people, through the postal service, to read instead of using blogger. i bet that'll make me really popular, and you'll lose all that potential revenue from the ads on my blog. you know, those little unassuming links in my sidebar that usually talk about bed bugs or chinese thongs (thank god we got rid of that one).

and you know what else, google, if that's even your real name, i'm still kinda mad at you for making me have to be invisible every damn day on gchat. marvin's still stalking me. isn't there a setting somewhere that will let me just be invisible to one person? if not, i suggest you get on that piece because it's getting really old having to go through those two extra steps to open a chat window with b while he's at work.

so guess what i'm going to do now, i'm going to do your job for you, stupid google. i'm going to answer some really important and profound questions that were recently posed to me. because everyone knows that if you post questions on your blog i am obsessively compelled to answer, much like a dictionary with tourette's.

my little becky, who hangs out over at i'll go eat worms, was the latest to test this theory. while we haven't been friends for very long, i can say that her poignant probes into the recesses of my mind are truly astounding. and for that, becky, i made you a special present. and also because you love doggies as much as i do. so before i get to the questions, i want to give you this:



thanks becky, for understanding the ups and downs of being a dog owner, and also for making up your own words all the time. i'll completely understand if you don't like my present, and i may or may not steal it back to put on my blog as well.


and off we go:

13. if you were an animal and you couldn't get that eye goop that gets in your eye corners from everyday living or baby zebra killing would that just totally drive you frickin insane? additionally, would you lick the eyegoop out of your cheetah lovah and cheetah baby's eyes because, you know, appearance may not be everything but eyegoop is juss nast? and would you sit butt to face sistee nine style to flick flys off each other with your tails?

eye goop is quite possibly one of the most disgusting things on this planet. i avoid the ones on monster's face at all costs, and leave them to grow and harden to the size of small pebbles until they either fall off from gravity or b sees them and cleans them for me. so no, i will not in any incarnation have anything ever to do with goop.

14. bonus! what is the name of my favorite freckle?

hairy petunia

15. if you had whiskers would you grow them out or would you keep them at a respectable length? can you tell that i'm watching a nature show while writing questions?

what i am starting to think is that you may have confused me with some other cat loving blogger, because i hate cats and all cat things, including whiskers.

16. don't you hate it when t9 is like being a bastard and keeps putting of instead of me or good instead of home? why can't they fix that?

ok, you definitely have me confused with someone else! how could you, becky?! are all my posts about my smelly dog not enough for you to remember me? i mean, i can see how you might make this mistake, kristine is my friend in real land, outside of blogland, and we do sometimes make cross-references to each other. but since we are in fact separate people, when her kid t9 is being a bastard i really don't give a what because he's not mine and i only see him like once a week.


and that shall now conclude this round of 'questions i answer so i don't have to think of something extraordinarily witty to blog about' for today. i will try to bring the clever/originality sometime soon, but no promises.