“Better fucking postures” was recently used to find my blog.  I don’t remember writing about better fucking postures, but I will say there are a few that hurt my back. 

Anyway, my house is now officially on the market.  If I never have to clean it again, it’ll be too soon.  I’d like to think I’m a fairly clean person.  I’m not fond of dusting because I’m allergic to dust (really, who isn’t?), but I love to vacuum and I do clean up after myself every day.  Well, over the last four days I have discovered that I’m a pig.  I live in filth and squalor and my mother would be less than proud of me.  I’m as messy as my sister, and if you knew her, you’d know that I’m truly disgusting.  Needless to say, I was horrified at what I found.  Dust bunnies the size of actual bunnies in the form of dog hair.  Questionable sticky messes on the kitchen floor which refused to be mopped and had to be shoveled off with my thumbnails.  An unknown substance on the wood floors.  I blame the dog for that – when he had a poo accident, it was there, ack ack ack (wow, that’s information I’m sure the people who buy this house would want)!!!  I’m not even going to say what I found on the windowsills, but ew.  So yeah, it turns out I’m gross.

While my house is on the market, I’m not going to use my shower.  That doesn’t mean I won’t take my showers (I’m gross, but not that gross) – I’ll just use Munchkin’s bathroom for that now.  But my shower is one of those glass enclosed ones, and they’re a bitch to clean and keep clean.  I won’t use my tub either because it’s also a bitch to clean.  The good news there is that I used Munchkin’s tub for a bath last night and it’s small enough that the hot water doesn’t run out before the tub is full.  That’s a very annoying problem with mine (also information I’m sure a potential buyer would love to hear).

I need to run errands and wash my car, but it’s raining like crazy here.  I wouldn’t bother with the car but it’s so dirty I can hardly see out the windows.  You know, I’m not sure why I think I’m a clean person when all the evidence is pointing the other way.


Is that even how you spell “jinx”?  I guess I’ll find out when I spellcheck which will render this sentence totally useless.  I’m hoping my ridiculously long absence will make you so happy to read anything I have to say that you won’t care if my sentences are tossers.  Heh.  Even Stephen King doesn’t have such luck.

Anyway, what I’m afraid of jinxing (is that a word?) is the house situation.  D and I found a house we both love in NM, and I had a realtor come by today (yep, on Mother’s Day.  I never said I was a nice person) to look at my house.  She wants to price it $20K above my best hopes.  Apparently tricking out the kitchen will pay off.  We’ll see, but I was pretty damn stoked.  She seemed to be too – I did a lot of upgrading to this house which just about excited the pants off her.  It’s good because the market in NM is much pricier than in TX.  I’m going to lose 1,000 square feet for a similarly priced and optioned house.  It sucks!  Texas is lovely in that way – everything is dirt cheap here.  I’m not sure where NM gets off pricing the way they do since I personally feel they’re the fourth worst state (1. NJ, 2. Miss, 3. Nev, and 4. NM – just my opinion and it’s based on the fact that people in my family are from these places and can tell you so.  Or in the case of NM, I’ve lived there and I know it’s a shithole.  We haven’t lived in Mississippi though.  They’re on my list because of their poverty and educational problems.  Sorry if I’ve offended, but honestly, if you’re from one of these places, then you of all people should know what a cesspool suckfest you live in).  I think NM sucks because it’s brown brown and more brown.  If you like rocks and dead looking plant-like things, go live there.  You’ll be very happy.  Also they have a state income tax and yet they still tax the groceries.  Texas doesn’t have a state income tax and we still don’t pay tax on food.  WTF?  The schools suck in NM and the drivers are all insane.  When I lived there before, they all went about ten miles below the speed limit.  It was like everyone was stoned.  They’re all on crystal meth now and they’ll blow by you going 90 in a 45.  Stupid fuckers.  And yet, I’m choosing to move there.  So I’m not allowed to complain about it anymore.  I’ll make fun, but I won’t bitch.  Yeah right!

I have a competition this coming weekend, so I won’t be around AGAIN.  It’s craptacular because I’m not online reading anyone else’s stuff or writing my stuff.  I feel pretty disconnected, but once things settle down and I’m not the traveling queen … well, it’ll be better someday!

Apparently when you go out of town, you’re supposed to let the neighbors know so they don’t think your corpse is rotting in your house.  Oops, my bad.  Long story short, I now know my across the street neighbors.  I didn’t know they watched my comings and goings so closely, but they were like, “Yeah, we normally see you come and go, so when we didn’t for so long, we got worried.  And plus, we know you’d never let your yard go like this, so we thought something was really wrong.”  Heh about the yard.  It looked so bad when I got home, and I had another nasty note from the HOA with the threat of a fine if I don’t hurry up and fix it.  So I spent today fixing it.  Or at least a fourth of it.  I still have a ways to go.  The yard guy comes Saturday though, so I’ll water Saturday night and then spread the weed killer/fertilizer I got today on Sunday morning.  That’s how the Lowe’s guy said to do it anyway.  I also got this nifty tool for pulling weeds but managed to break it already.

My trip was good.  The ice in Albuquerque is super hard and I don’t like it.  D’s mom said if I can skate on it, then I can skate on anything.  That’s good news since the ice in Reston is supposedly shit.  Don’t get a literal vision of that if you can help it.  She’s also fixing my dresses.  One needs altering and all of them need stones.  All I had were clear Swarovskis, but she said to use the colored ones.  Luckily she has like eleventy billion of them from stoning D’s costumes back in his competitive days.

We saw “The Ruins” while I was there.  Don’t bother.  It wasn’t at all what I expected.  I thought it would be more adventure-y, but it was kind of a gore-fest.  We also hiked a trail that I used to go on when I lived there, but since it’s still kind of cold none of the pretty stuff has bloomed.  The most interesting thing on the trail was the sheer amount of dog shit.  I was kind of shocked.  You would think that the kind of people who hike trails would be the kind of people who would know to pick up their dog’s crap.  Ew.  We also went shooting one day.  I sucked so much ass.  My targeting was okay, but it was taking me about twenty minutes between shots.  It got so bad that D finally unloaded the gun and had me shoot it dry to get my comfort level back up.  Then on my last clip of the day, I pulled the trigger and nothing happened.  So with the gun still pointing downrange (VERY IMPORTANT), I turned my head and said, “It’s not working” and then the damn thing shot.  I still hit the target, but not where I intended.  So I learned if you think the gun isn’t working, take your finger off the trigger.  I’m a dumbass who shouldn’t be allowed to handle weapons.  D said it happens to everyone though.  Somehow that failed to make me feel better.  Oh, he got his other AK-47 yesterday and shot it today.  He’s more in love with it than he is with me.  That’s okay, I’m secure in the knowledge that there are things I can do for him that a gun can’t.  Though if he says anything about a gun is better than sex again …

Okay, I have Big Brother After Dark on, and we’ve been watching Adam read a bible for like forty minutes.  Oh for Pete’s sake, if there’s nothing going on in the house, put together some footage from when there was interesting stuff going on and let us watch that.  What I want to know is why I haven’t changed the channel.  Ah, it must be that dumbass thing happening again.  I is smrt.

I’m writing this down here so hopefully I’ll remember to do it later, but I need to write about my child’s latest escapade and the weird ass dream I had while in New Mexico.

I’m trying to post pictures of my dining room table which arrived today, and the chairs, and my dog, and the Christmas decorations, etc.  The issue is that they’re showing up ginormous, like bigger than my computer screen.  I have tried everything I can think of, but they won’t go down to a nice manageable size.  Soooooooo frustrated. 

Aha, I’ve figured it out!  I will copy and paste them rather than trying to be fancy and computer literate and upload the fuckers.  Okay, so that’s the table with a bit of dog in it.  The china is Spode Christmas Tree which my whole family collects.  Lemmings, all of us.

The chairs are a bit of a pain in the ass as I have to put them together myself.  Gross.  Someday, I will have furniture that doesn’t include “Assembly Required” in any way, shape, or form.  I have one finished.  This is it without the cover plus a dog butt:

Unfortunately, I can’t fix the rotation doing this with copy and paste.  I had figured out how to do that the other way though.  Dang it!  I was gonna be so technically wonderful today.  Shit …

This is the chair with a cover and a whole dog:

These are the other chairs:

Classy, eh?  I especially like the bits of Foosball table you can see there.  Yeah, that’s in my formal living room.  Anyone have a blowtorch?  I hate that fucking thing.

This is my Christmas tree with the dog (he actually sat and stayed!):

I probably should’ve shut the window, but oh well.  Okay, this is the mantle:


This is my family cheering for Missouri on Saturday night:

From left to right, Nicki, Mandi, Amber, Tricia, and Phyllis.  Not me since a) I was taking the picture, and b) Fuck Mizzou, Go OU!!!  Nicki works for Kappa Kappa Gamma, Mandi is going to Missouri next fall, Amber is a lawyer in Manhattan (she went to MU for her bachelors and Cornell for her law degree which is also where my grandfather went for his engineering degree in the forties), Tricia is my aunt and their mom, and Phyllis is our grandmother.

This is my bathtub, which I’ve mentioned before is storage for cleaning supplies, the trash can, and recycling.  I had to use the recycling box for something else, so the current recycling is just dropped in the tub.  That’s right, just call me Grace Kelly.  I’m full of charm.

I had also taken one of my sink turned dirty clothes bin, but I can’t get it off my email to paste.  Oh well.  Why I feel the need to share what a pig I am, I will never understand.  Speaking of pigs, don’t buy the Cinnamon Sun Chips.  They are so freaking good that you’ll eat a whole big bag in one sitting and no longer fit in your jeans.  I’m just trying to help.

And finally, this is the desk where I’m currently sitting and typing this:

Sorry about the technical issues!  I suck ass!!!

I figured out the chair situation for my dining room.  I’m just getting boring Parson’s chairs since they’re so easy to slipcover and that way, I can change the look of the room with the seasons or with my whims or whatever.  Look at that – I can be the consummate mind-changing woman.  How fun!

My dear sweet skating friends are taking me out December 1st and getting me schnockered out of my mind as that’s the day my ex-husband is getting remarried.  I’m fine with that, but I do think that if there’s any day in your life that you’re allowed to get memory-erasingly blotto, it’s the day your ex remarries.  I told D that my only requirement for the night was that somebody had to make sure I got back to my house because I have no desire to sleep somewhere strange that night or drive home in the morning.  Plus I have a dog which is pretty much like having a kid except you can be fucked up around your dog.  You do need to be home to let the dog out though.  Now having said that, I seem no longer to be able to get shit-faced because I’ve mastered keeping a good buzz without getting stupid.  So it will probably end up where nobody has to responsible for me, and we all just have a fun night.  Yay!

All of which brings me around to the worst hangover ever:  I went out on a Friday after work with my ex who was not my ex at the time, and I was drinking wine.  Oops.  I thought I was fine, and then I wasn’t.  It was like going from pleasantly buzzing to completely fucking gone in five seconds.  I told him I was going to the car, it was time to go home, and please pay the tab, let’s go.  That’s my memory anyway.  He showed up at the car fifty-two hours later and finally took me home.  I managed not to barf in the car, but as soon as I got to my bathroom, it was coming out.  This is the previous marker for the non-pukage streak, by the way (before the painkiller earlier this year where I learned that apple juice doesn’t qualify as food for pills you have to take with food.  That’s where my current streak starts).  Anyway, I think I passed out after that.  I spent all day Saturday in the bathroom where I learned it really is possible to have it coming out both ends at the same time.  I thought that was a myth.  You just have to pick up a trash can for the front end, and it’s all good.  I spent Sunday in bed trying not to barf again, but really, there was nothing left.  I lost seven pounds that weekend, so yeah, I’d do it all again. 

I cleaned the bathrooms today, and I need to record this for posterity: it took an hour and twenty minutes.  So it’s not that bad.  Next time I’m procrastinating, I just need to remember that it takes less than an hour and a half, so just do it already!  Plus if I’d do it more often, it would take even less time.  My bathroom is by far the worst since a) it’s the master and therefore the largest and contains that stupid bathtub that is used for trash/recycling/dust collecting and takes freaking forever to clean (don’t worry, the trash and recycling go into containers which are stored in the tub, not directly thrown in there.  Though I do miss with nasty cottonballs and Q-Tips more frequently than I care to admit), and b) I don’t know how it happens, but my make-up ends up everywhere.  And I do mean everywhere.  There’s this slightly pink powdery coating on freaking everything.  It’s pretty impressive.  It’s even on the lights.  How???  Tomorrow after Munch gets out of school and I finish skating, we’re dusting and doing the floors, and then the house will be ready for decorating for Christmas next Sunday.  I’m all sorts of excited about that!

So I was cleaning out the garage yesterday, and I found a dead mouse.  Blech.  It was the one time in months that I thought it might be nice to have a man around.  Luckily I have come to my senses and decided that I will just call the bug guy on Monday.  In the meantime, the poor dead mouse is still hanging out in the garage.  It’s stuck to one of those sticky trays which are actually meant to catch creepy-crawly bugs.  I’m not sure how long it’s been there because I don’t usually look at the trays.  See, what happened was I was cleaning up the sports equipment area which is by the garage door.  The little trays are on either side of the door (they’re about the size of a license plate).  I noticed the tray was crooked (and we can all thank Monica on Friends for this one: “If it’s not a right angle, then it’s a wrong angle”) so I kicked the corner of the tray to straighten it out.  My tennis shoe got stuck in the sticky goo.  That was gross enough as the tray is covered in crickets.  Then I saw this gray fuzzy stuff which really confused me because I thought it was a hairball, and my dog is blonde so how could it be gray hair?  So I looked a little closer at the tray which, mind you, was still stuck to my shoe.  And the realization that I was looking at a small dead mouse dawned on me.  I must admit I shrieked.  My neighbors suck because apparently they didn’t care enough to come rescue me.  Or maybe they didn’t hear me because I’m really a very quiet person even while shrieking.  Anyway, I had to get the tray off without using my hands, so I used my other foot to hold the tray steady while I unstuck my shoe.  That was tricky since I obviously didn’t want to touch the mouse with any part of me or anything that was touching me or that I would have to touch later.  Plus I didn’t want to get my other shoe stuck in the goo either.  Once I was free, I decided the garage was plenty clean, and that was that!

I have eight boxes of cereal (Fruity Pepples, Trix, Honey Graham Crunch, Cinni-Mini Crunch, Honey Nut Cheerios, Honey Bunches of Oats, Vanilla Yogurt Crunch Life, and Honeycomb which I am currently eating without milk as I’m out of that), two boxes of oatmeal (Weight Control Cinnamon), an almost empty jar of reduced fat peanut butter, grape jelly (don’t get me started on my love of the grape jelly), ketchup, a cheddar cheese snack thingee, and four jars of yogurt.  Two of the yogurts have expired.  I’m out of bread, bananas, and orange juice along with the milk.  It’s a good thing my kid is in Indiana!

In addition to these foods which I actually will eat, I also have an entire shelf of food I won’t touch which belongs to ex-boyfriend and that I tried to give back to him last time he was here giving me back my stuff he “accidentally” took (Tool, you know those towels were mine!), but he wouldn’t take it because he had already bought new food.  It’s stuff like Total cereal which I won’t eat because where’s the sugar???  Ick.  He also left a ton of frozen chicken.  I won’t eat that because like I’ve said, I don’t cook.  I need to donate it if it’s not expired.  Wait, does frozen chicken expire or does it become nuclear war survival food once it’s frozen?

Needless to say, I need to go to the store badly.  First though, I have to go to my parent’s house and pack some more.  Happy Fourth of July to me, lalala!  Maybe they’ll feed me something better than dry cereal though.  That’d be nice!  What I really want, and here is just more proof that my food tastes have not changed since Kindergarten, is a tuna sandwich.  And a cookie.  I could go for an oatmeal raisin cookie.  Yum ….

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