WOW - What a productive day! I took a vacation day on this fine Friday to help me man finish painting the exterior of the house. While he left early to work at his shop for a bit I finished laundry and painted the trim around the door. (The one he had to fix twice.)
When he got home we set to work and after a day of blood, sweat, and tears. Without the blood or tears - the house looks AMAZING! It's like a brand new house! AND he complimented painting skillzz instead of telling how I can do it better. Word up! What a great day!
My love being the sweetheart that he is invited the neighbors over for fajitas - so after painting I run to the grocery store. While on the way I realize I'm filthy AND the bottom part of my left flip flop is coming off. Not to mention I must smell like the hind end of donkey. Crap. Good thing we do not live in an area like River Oaks - no one at the grocery store I frequent is even close to being a looker - so spray myself with a couple squirts of love spell and in I go. Dirty. Stinky. Cut off shorts, broken flip flop, and my oh so stylish zebra shades. Take notes people. This is the life!
I get home and start dinner. On the menu this evening is home-made mexican rice, charrrrrrro beans, home-made guacamole, and of course the fajitas. Take a quick shower, stir the beans, make the guac, set plates and spoons, and napkins out, set up the little dinner tray tables, put the shredded cheese in a cute bowl so no one has to stick their whole arm in my bag of cheese, chop veggies, stir the sour cream, and start heating the tortillas with butter in a pan. Baby cooked the meat on the grill and we ready for this impromptu dinner party! I even put of my fancy purfume.
Oohhhhh - they aren't coming over? We're just taking them a to go plate?? Well if I knew that I'd have saved alot of energy and clean dishes - but oh well - suits me just fine as wine!
Dinner was ahhhh-mazing. Sometimes I wish I was a shitty cook - maybe I'd be skinny. Then again doubtful - pizza hut delivers. Got the kitchen cleaned up even thought I didn't wanna do it and now as I sit here typing these words, baby is looking through the direct stream of netflix movies, the dogs are crashed... (I guess they had a really exhausting day watching us work) and me...I'm happy. As they say, "My cup runneth over."
Perhaps a nice cherry vodka,water+lemon to go with our movie and this b!tch gonna sleep like a rock tonight!
As Winnie the pooh would say, "Tata for now!"
Friday, July 22, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Girl, You AIN'T no Carrie!
As I sit here contemplating the right words for blog #4 I somewhat feel like Carrie Bradshaw. With less glamour, less money, and a whole lot more cushion. And by cushion - I mean fat.
I should be sitting somewhere with a laptop in sweatpants, sequin top, and hooker heels.. Instead I'm sitting at my desk at work on my lunch break looking at all the un-fun things I have to do today and listening the incessant talking of the office "hall monitor". You know - the one person who thinks it's her business to know everyone else's business and make sure no one is getting away with anything, all the while complaining that she has soooo much work to do. Some days I really wanna go Bon Qui Qui and threaten to cut her - but I don't. Tuning out skills = engaged.
My voicemail light is on - no doubt it's some fool who I won't be calling back. A salesperson acting like they are my best friend, a disqualified applicant who stalks us, or maybe even the MOM of a disqualified applicant who thinks she needs to explain to me what a good boy hersissy child man-son is. *GAG*
Then I think - who the H am I kidding? I don't wear sweats and typing on a lap top is a total pain in my arse. I like coming to the office most days and typing on my big, ugly, dirty looking, 10 year old key board...and when I get bored I just walk into the office of Beans next door and do a Michael Jackson crotch grab dance. Or change someone's auto correct to make the word "and" automatically change to "fart knocker." Now THAT makes for an entertaining day when that person sends an email without reading it first!
I don't need to be Carrie-ish. I like being Me-ish even though my "Mr. Big" thinks me-ish is quite nerdy most of the time. Oh well. I'm happy right where I am.
<3
I should be sitting somewhere with a laptop in sweatpants, sequin top, and hooker heels.. Instead I'm sitting at my desk at work on my lunch break looking at all the un-fun things I have to do today and listening the incessant talking of the office "hall monitor". You know - the one person who thinks it's her business to know everyone else's business and make sure no one is getting away with anything, all the while complaining that she has soooo much work to do. Some days I really wanna go Bon Qui Qui and threaten to cut her - but I don't. Tuning out skills = engaged.
My voicemail light is on - no doubt it's some fool who I won't be calling back. A salesperson acting like they are my best friend, a disqualified applicant who stalks us, or maybe even the MOM of a disqualified applicant who thinks she needs to explain to me what a good boy her
Then I think - who the H am I kidding? I don't wear sweats and typing on a lap top is a total pain in my arse. I like coming to the office most days and typing on my big, ugly, dirty looking, 10 year old key board...and when I get bored I just walk into the office of Beans next door and do a Michael Jackson crotch grab dance. Or change someone's auto correct to make the word "and" automatically change to "fart knocker." Now THAT makes for an entertaining day when that person sends an email without reading it first!
I don't need to be Carrie-ish. I like being Me-ish even though my "Mr. Big" thinks me-ish is quite nerdy most of the time. Oh well. I'm happy right where I am.
<3
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
That Hooker Mother Nature and her pal Freddy Krueger
Until the age of 12 I was a scrawny little runt. Hell, from 10 to 11 people thought I was a little boy most of the time (which generally put me in not so pleasant mood). Then comes 12...AND boobs. Tatas. Chi-chis. Melons. Fun Bags. Dirty Pillows. In 7th grade the girls in gym said I stuck my chest out when I ran and found it wildly humorous to make fun of me. I couldn't help that I got boobs and they didn't! What a bunch of assholes!
So with the boobs comes the rest of woman hood and all the sudden my svelt skinny girlish figure disappeared never to return again and I've battled the "fat" gene ever since. (insert Napoleon Dynamite annoyed sound here: ugggggggggggggggg).
If you haven't seen that movie - watch it. It's frickin' awesome.
Anywho - Apparently good 'ol Mother N forgot to tell those things to stop growing and after getting totally fed up with the asinine comments guys would make like, "Did you grow those youself.." with a Beavis and Butthead giggle - totally amused at their *wit* I ended up getting a reduction at 23. Painful - but WORTH it. And any dude that claims it's "a slap in the face of god" can go suck his own balls.
As I continue to get older the bich still continues to make my life miserable any chance she gets and now I am convinced that she has partenered up with Freddy Kreuger. In my mind when I was a wee little one she said, "Oh you like to watch those gory movies little girl? Well wait until you find what I have in store for you!" Evil witch laugh and all!
I hit 30 and BAM - gray hair. Like - allot of them. DUDE!? I'm only 30 - not some decrepit old woman with a cane. I still drink vodka and dance to rap music! What's up with this gray? I have dark brown hair - this isn't easy to hide! So after plucking damn near a few bald spots - fine. Highlights it is. Then BAM! When did these laugh lines around my mouth stop going away when I stop smiling???? WTF is up with THAT you hooker!? I don't even smoke! Ok - start with skin regimine. My mother bought me some anti-aging product for my birthday this year because I'm "at that age" so guess it's time to use it. Fark me.
Then BAM - special monthly time and pimples all over my face. Ok - seriously? You are gonna give me gray hair AND laugh lines like I'm an old hag and now you're gonna give teenager pimples too? How did I get the shit end of this stick??? Totally unacceptable and you know it!
Then after all that - as I said, I am concvinced she and Freddy are conspiring against me. There is no other feasible explination. There just isn't. Freddy now resides in my womb. He uses those shiny knife finger-blades to chop up my insides and inflict a pain so awful I feel like I'm going to sprout two extra heads and start eating people's faces off and then run in the woods like a chupacabra and howl at the moon even in the daylight! It's that bad!
PRAISE Coco Chanel for Vodka and good lovin' from my man who loves me even when I'm a possesed chupacabra.
Amen.
So with the boobs comes the rest of woman hood and all the sudden my svelt skinny girlish figure disappeared never to return again and I've battled the "fat" gene ever since. (insert Napoleon Dynamite annoyed sound here: ugggggggggggggggg).
If you haven't seen that movie - watch it. It's frickin' awesome.
Anywho - Apparently good 'ol Mother N forgot to tell those things to stop growing and after getting totally fed up with the asinine comments guys would make like, "Did you grow those youself.." with a Beavis and Butthead giggle - totally amused at their *wit* I ended up getting a reduction at 23. Painful - but WORTH it. And any dude that claims it's "a slap in the face of god" can go suck his own balls.
As I continue to get older the bich still continues to make my life miserable any chance she gets and now I am convinced that she has partenered up with Freddy Kreuger. In my mind when I was a wee little one she said, "Oh you like to watch those gory movies little girl? Well wait until you find what I have in store for you!" Evil witch laugh and all!
I hit 30 and BAM - gray hair. Like - allot of them. DUDE!? I'm only 30 - not some decrepit old woman with a cane. I still drink vodka and dance to rap music! What's up with this gray? I have dark brown hair - this isn't easy to hide! So after plucking damn near a few bald spots - fine. Highlights it is. Then BAM! When did these laugh lines around my mouth stop going away when I stop smiling???? WTF is up with THAT you hooker!? I don't even smoke! Ok - start with skin regimine. My mother bought me some anti-aging product for my birthday this year because I'm "at that age" so guess it's time to use it. Fark me.
Then BAM - special monthly time and pimples all over my face. Ok - seriously? You are gonna give me gray hair AND laugh lines like I'm an old hag and now you're gonna give teenager pimples too? How did I get the shit end of this stick??? Totally unacceptable and you know it!
Then after all that - as I said, I am concvinced she and Freddy are conspiring against me. There is no other feasible explination. There just isn't. Freddy now resides in my womb. He uses those shiny knife finger-blades to chop up my insides and inflict a pain so awful I feel like I'm going to sprout two extra heads and start eating people's faces off and then run in the woods like a chupacabra and howl at the moon even in the daylight! It's that bad!
PRAISE Coco Chanel for Vodka and good lovin' from my man who loves me even when I'm a possesed chupacabra.
Amen.
Monday, July 18, 2011
And you too, buddy!
I grew up in the sticks, my back yard was the forest and there was a creek my friends and I could catch diseases swim in. I was always outside playing - climbing trees, building forts that looked nothing like forts, digging in the dirt with my mom's spoons, playing with the dogs, whatever kept me busy.
Once when I was about 5 years old I was outside playing and my mom comes to the back door and tells me it's time to come in. My response was to turn around and give her the "up yours" gesture. You know the one where you use both arms. If you don't know what it looks like - google it. Or go ask someone and then come back.
Needless to say she was none too pleased and I got the whoopin' of a lifetime! All the way through the house to my room, "Mandy Michelle! Don't you. (spank!) EVER! (slap) do that! (spank spank!!) again!!!" Sobbing into my room after my door closed I got into my bed and under my covers where I did it again. Only this time she didn't see me and I giggled through my hiccups. Silver caps on the front two teeth gleaming an evil grin!
As a child I wasn't fully aware of what it meant - I just knew I'd see adults do it when they were not so pleased about the actions of another. Now as an adult I fully know what it means and anytime someone gives me friction I do my best to refrain from pulling out the 'ol gesture. I'm pretty sure if I did it to my boss as he is ranting I may very well lose my job. Or to my boyfriend when he is mad about something he'd probably think I'd gone mad and have me commited. Or to the pharmacist at my local CVS who is also so cantankerous! I want to yell, "scrotum sack ball licker!" while I gesture away just to see how they'd resond to it all. But since I'm of sound mind (most days) - I keep it inside my head and the 5 year old that still lives inside of me giggles a giggle.
Until next time....
xoxo
Once when I was about 5 years old I was outside playing and my mom comes to the back door and tells me it's time to come in. My response was to turn around and give her the "up yours" gesture. You know the one where you use both arms. If you don't know what it looks like - google it. Or go ask someone and then come back.
Needless to say she was none too pleased and I got the whoopin' of a lifetime! All the way through the house to my room, "Mandy Michelle! Don't you. (spank!) EVER! (slap) do that! (spank spank!!) again!!!" Sobbing into my room after my door closed I got into my bed and under my covers where I did it again. Only this time she didn't see me and I giggled through my hiccups. Silver caps on the front two teeth gleaming an evil grin!
As a child I wasn't fully aware of what it meant - I just knew I'd see adults do it when they were not so pleased about the actions of another. Now as an adult I fully know what it means and anytime someone gives me friction I do my best to refrain from pulling out the 'ol gesture. I'm pretty sure if I did it to my boss as he is ranting I may very well lose my job. Or to my boyfriend when he is mad about something he'd probably think I'd gone mad and have me commited. Or to the pharmacist at my local CVS who is also so cantankerous! I want to yell, "scrotum sack ball licker!" while I gesture away just to see how they'd resond to it all. But since I'm of sound mind (most days) - I keep it inside my head and the 5 year old that still lives inside of me giggles a giggle.
Until next time....
xoxo
What-Ever, Dude!
So..... my wonderful manfriend...Light of life...Apple of my eye...LOVE of my LIFE gave me ammo for my very first blog. Ever. I didn't know where I'd start but it fell right in my lap. Just as my little chi-hoo-a-hoo-a is as I type these words, her head resting on my wrist.
We are in the process of painting the outside of our house. I come home today to find he's painted the metal part of the glass door - looks amazing! Like a brand new door! Hell to the yeaaaa! So I grab the door and it doesn't open.. Pull a little harder and still nothing. So - I assume the paint dried and it's stuck - so I pull harder and VOILA. Open! In I go, let the dogs out, sweep the floor, hippidy do da - life is swell. Think I'll eat some left over pizza and enjoy life.
Buuuuuut.....in he comes and this what transpires:
"What did you do to the door???! You bent it!"
Whatchu talkin' bout Willis? It was stuck because of the paint so I had to pull it but it opened. It's alllll good, baby!
"I just fixed it! I can't believe you already bent it!"
Um? Fixed what?
"The door! You have to press the handle button for it to open - I just fixed it and now I have to fix it again."
(Insert me giving him the evil eye/middle finger from behind right now.)
Well... You didn't tell me you fixed it! I've lived in this house for OVER a year and a half and I've never pressed that button - why would I press it today?? Because you painted the door I should assume you fixed it even though I never paid attention to the fact it was broke because I never knew any difference? Oh yea...Ok - MY BAD.
Soooo extra dog hairs with your tuna tonight?? Great - coming RIGHT up my sweet darling!
We are in the process of painting the outside of our house. I come home today to find he's painted the metal part of the glass door - looks amazing! Like a brand new door! Hell to the yeaaaa! So I grab the door and it doesn't open.. Pull a little harder and still nothing. So - I assume the paint dried and it's stuck - so I pull harder and VOILA. Open! In I go, let the dogs out, sweep the floor, hippidy do da - life is swell. Think I'll eat some left over pizza and enjoy life.
Buuuuuut.....in he comes and this what transpires:
"What did you do to the door???! You bent it!"
Whatchu talkin' bout Willis? It was stuck because of the paint so I had to pull it but it opened. It's alllll good, baby!
"I just fixed it! I can't believe you already bent it!"
Um? Fixed what?
"The door! You have to press the handle button for it to open - I just fixed it and now I have to fix it again."
(Insert me giving him the evil eye/middle finger from behind right now.)
Well... You didn't tell me you fixed it! I've lived in this house for OVER a year and a half and I've never pressed that button - why would I press it today?? Because you painted the door I should assume you fixed it even though I never paid attention to the fact it was broke because I never knew any difference? Oh yea...Ok - MY BAD.
Soooo extra dog hairs with your tuna tonight?? Great - coming RIGHT up my sweet darling!
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