“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.


I’ve been taking care of my mom this week since she had a face lift and laser resurfacing on Monday.  She looks like a balloon full of raw hamburger meat.  It’s every bit as attractive as it sounds.  I go over in the morning and then we go to the doctor’s office.  They check her progress and we ask all of our questions and take lots of notes.  We usually stop at Starbucks for some crack on the way home.  She made this huge Excel spreadsheet where we write in the medications that she’s taking and when she does her face washing and moisturizing routine.  She also has to do something called debrading (which I’m sure I’m misspelling, but whatever).  That’s just nasty.  It basically involves rolling a giant Q-tip over her face to remove the crusty yellow bits.  Urgh!  The whole entire washing, soaking, debrading, and moisturizing process takes 40 minutes and happens four times a day.  Major suckage.  And I can’t even be bothered to spend two minutes washing off my makeup at night!

So I’ve decided that I will NEVER EVER EVER have a face lift or any other elective surgery.  Jeez Louise, why put yourself through this?  I wanted a nose job for the longest time when I was younger, but never had the guts even though my grandmother kept offering to get me one (nice, eh?).  I have a bump on my nose from getting hit with a ski, but it’s not noticeable from the front.  The side is a different story.  Anyway, I eventually got to the point where I was like, “Hey, that’s my nose.  If I had a different one, I wouldn’t look like me.”  But every once in a while, I would think how nice it would be to have a lovely straight nose.  Yeah, I don’t care anymore about that bump.

The poor dog is about sick of this schedule.  He’s having to get up earlier than he wants to (think how I feel about that too!), then I leave for like six hours, then I come home and let him out and feed him and spend a little time with him, and then I go back for another four to six hours.  He gave me a crate refusal today which has only happened two other times in the past year.  I think.  There may have been a small phase, but I don’t know for sure.

Anyway, my mom is making good progress.  Each day is exponentially better than the day before even though she looks icky.  We joked about making a My Space page for her.  My dad was not amused.  I think he thought we were serious, goofball!

So, Viggo Mortensen, the one man on the planet who could probably convince me to have his children, got an Oscar nomination.  Yay!  Oi, he’s a little hottie, yum.

Last night, my Man-Friend came over and taught me to fly.  I should say he attempted to teach me to fly.  We were playing Ace Combat 6.  Yet another game for me to suck ass at, but that’s okay.  I’ll practice.  He has the fancy controllers for it which were just another source of “too many buttons” confusion for me.  I yearn for the days of old when all we had were buttons A and B and the D pad.  It was a simpler time.

Damn it, my fucking dog has got in the mud again.  He wants in and is spreading his muck all over the back door, so I better go clean him.  Urgh!

J and I decided we should have a party here when D got back in town, so we’re having it on Saturday.  I just remembered I’ve already mentioned this because of the beer pong thing.  All of which leads me to this: today I went to the liquor store to get all that kind of stuff.  I got vodka (Grey Goose because we’re stupid and insist on drinking it even though people supposedly can’t tell the difference between it and that Smirnoff crapola), rum (Bacardi – so not for me since I don’t want to instaneously puke), Amaretto, sweet and sour mix, Frangelico, Bailey’s, and Chambord.  The last three are so we can make that awesome shot my ex made at New Year’s.  So I also had to go buy shot glasses.  I find it shocking that I don’t already have them, but my ex got them in the divorce.  I also had to buy beer mugs for beer pong.  I couldn’t find any great big ones with huge openings, so we’re going to have to have mad skillz and make due with normal sized mugs.  Or I’ll get out my tea pitchers and we’ll just drink from the mugs, whatever.  I think I’m going to stick with Amaretto sours this time since I got so sick from the vodka last time.  It actually probably wasn’t the vodka – it was more likely the shots, but whatever.  My stomach knew at New Year’s that vodka was very bad.

I’m sending Magnus to the dog spa for the weekend.  He’s driving me fucking mad lately, and he scares D.  “Scares” may not be the right word.  “Offends” may be a better choice.  He’s a cat person though, and isn’t used to being jumped on.  I hate the jumping.  I decided it would just be easier this way.  I need a break, and he won’t be able to pester my guests.  S and B are coming too, and they have a chocolate Lab.  I hope they’re not disappointed that mine won’t be around, though for all I know, they need a break from their dog too.  Labs are just hard puppies.  Anyway, it’s going to be half of our softball team.  It’d be like a reunion, but I see the three guys at the rink all the time.

Well, that’s about all I’ve got!  Later gators.

I picked up the dog from boarding today, and he promptly had diarrhea all over my wood floors.  Ack.  Welcome home, Magnus!

Then I went to the dentist where it turns out they had been sent the wrong part for my Robo-Mouth.  So I have to wait yet another week to be finished.  Still, I’m three weeks from being done, so I’m okay with it.

After that, I had to go to Target because there is no food or diet Big Red in house.  I don’t care about the food right now, but having no soda is just totally unacceptable.  When I was getting my cart, this lady came in with her seventy children (okay, it was more like four, but they moved around like Sonic the Hedgehog, so it seemed like a lot more).  They immediately got all sorts of in my way, so I was already annoyed with them.  A little later, I ran into them again and they were dancing and twirling and buzzing all up and down the cereal aisle which was crowded with the dude stocking more cereal.  I couldn’t get out.  Finally, Fuckass the Angry Clown possessed me, and I said, “Jesus Christ, lady, can you control your freaking offspring please?”  Mind you, I like never drop JC bombs, so there’s a rather large indicator of my level of irritation.  She looked at me all shocked, and I said, “What?  I said ‘please’!”  Then she looked like she wanted to kick my ass into Michigan, and considering how I’m feeling all puny and she was like six feet tall and she had about a hundred pounds I me, I kind of didn’t think it was the time or place for a throw-down.  So I fled the scene which required backing out.  Eeeekkkk!

Yesterday I was in that lonely sick place so I thought I was ready to be out and about amongst the peeps.  Not so much.  So I’ll stay home and hang with the dog for the rest of the day.  I bought him a Kong.  I’ve never seen him so happy.

The Christmas shopping may be finished.  I’ll know for sure when everything is wrapped.  I hope it’s over – it has been really freaking stressful this year!

I made the cookies for my other coaches, J and A, tonight.  I had everything out on racks cooling, and I went out to the garage to … um … smoke (I know, I know, insert lecture here), and when I came back, the dog looked guilty and his mouth looked full.  I was like, “What do you have?”, and he ran off.  I went in the kitchen, and sure enough, the little asshead had stolen two cookies.  I guess I’m lucky it was only two though.  Ick, I hope there’s not dog slobber on the others.  I don’t think there is – I checked for wetness.  Gross!

A little later, I grabbed the laptop and went to sit on the couch to type this, and there was chocolate all over my usual spot.  Did I mention these were chocolate chip cookies?  Yeah.  This dog is seriously doing nothing to relax me.  Aren’t pets supposed to lower your blood pressure?  Labs must be exempt.  I spend most of my day trying not to murder my dog.

So far this week, he’s gotten into mud every day, and he has eaten my Man-Friend blanket, a pillow, two kitchen towels, the aforementioned cookies, a turtleneck, and a pair of pajamas.  The thing is, he’s kenneled when I’m not home and at night, and he follows me wherever I go.  So when I’m doing something like peeing and I don’t let him in the bathroom with me, he runs off and takes my stuff.  I need a nanny for my dog.  Do they even have those?  Cuz they should!

All righty then, the term “eat own ass” was used to find my blog.  Very interesting …

I got my hair done today, and it’s still not the right blonde.  I’m okay with it because it’s a pretty strawberryish blonde, but it’s not blonde blonde like it’s supposed to be.  We know what to do now though.  Of course, we did say that last time, and look what happened.

My dog is being horrible lately.  He’s decided it’s a good idea to bite my clothes, but he misses and gets me instead.  My arms are all bruised up which I at first blamed on my new … hunh, what to call him?  “Fuck buddy” is way too crass, “boyfriend” isn’t right, and “lover” is just gross.  “Person I’m seeing” is all wrong too since if I were just “seeing” him, I probably wouldn’t have done what I’ve already done quite yet.  Wow, stream of consciousness is fun, isn’t it?  I guess “fuck buddy” is probably most accurate, but gosh, that makes me sound like a dirty little whore.  Hey, I’m a single girl of the 2000’s and I have needs, dammit!  And toys don’t hug back.  That’s kind of pitiful.  Anyway, I originally thought, “He must’ve grabbed my arms pretty hard.  Hunh, I don’t remember him doing that.”  He didn’t.  It’s the damn dog.  He needs some Valium.

I’m totally behind on my Christmas stuff.  I haven’t done my cards yet.  I’ve barely done any shopping, and what little I have done hasn’t been shipped to the recipients yet.  The stress is an excellent diet though (she says while eating Gingerbread Men straight out of the box).  I also have a tendency to eat while standing over the sink, if you must know.  I specifically used to not eat over the sink because that was so bachelorish, but now I’m like, “Hey, why use a plate when there’s this nice sink here to catch the crumbs?”

I have my dentist’s appointment tomorrow to check how my implants have grafted to the bone.  If it’s all good, we’ll make molds and I’ll have crowns soon!  I hope they’re ready – that stupid flipper is really a nuisance. 

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