random


“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.

First, a random note.  I have this massive purple bruise on my left kneecap which looks like it clearly hurt when I did it, but I can’t for the life of me remember hitting it.  I was cleaning yesterday, so I’m sure I knocked it on something or other then, but yeah, I have no memory of it.

Okay, I promised escapades and a weird dream (but I have two of those now), so here we go.  My ex-husband still owns our old house in addition to his new house which is in the same neighborhood as the old one.  He hasn’t sold it yet because he doesn’t think he can get what he wants for it right now, so it’s sitting there vacant.  I’m sure the neighbors love that, but it’s been established that I’m a sucky neighbor, so I can’t talk.  Anyway, it’s over by two of Munchkin’s best friends.  One day, he was over there playing with one of the guys.  Later that day, Ex went over to check on some things at the house and found a grocery cart in the garage with a bunch of sodas and bags of chips and other assorted junkie foods in it.  He asked Munchkin if he knew anything about the cart.  Munch said no.  Ex said, “I’m going to ask one more time, and if you really don’t know anything, I need to call the police and have them look into this.”  So of course Munch fessed up that he and his friend had gone to the store and bought all the junk and were storing it in the garage for when they were playing in the area.  By the way, the garage has a keypad entry code thing on it, so you can get in without a key or opener as long as you know the code.  So Ex mentions that it’s theft to take a grocery cart off store property which he knows from the experience of one of his own escapades as a kid.  Munch took the cart back, but Ex didn’t make him go into the store and confess.  I would’ve made him do that!  Yep, so I have a wild onion barbequeing, grocery cart stealing teenager.  Lovely!

Weird dream number one:  In New Mexico, I had this dream that Frodo’s head was on a spinning wheel in a pond.  His body was floating nearby.  Sam came by and Frodo kept saying, “Sam, my body.”  So Sam chops Frodo’s head off the wheel and manages to reattach it to Frodo’s body.  Then Frodo was sitting there eating a sandwich with a rather messy stitch job on his neck.  His lips were a weird maroon color and looked kind of Joker-ish.  Needless to say, I’m a Tolkien nerd.  A sick Tolkien nerd.

Weird dream number two:  This one was last night.  I dreamed I was at D’s house, and I walked into the bathroom, you know, to pee.  The toilet was missing.  I said, “D, where’s the toilet?”  He came in and looked, and was all like, “Hunh.  I have no idea where it went,” like it wasn’t all that out of the ordinary for the toilet to get up and walk off for a bit.  Then my phone rang and woke me up.  It was D on his way to his concealed handgun license class.  Yes, he is a gun-toting maniac.  But anyway, why would I dream about a missing toilet?  What the heck does that mean?  

In the category of people are really weird, the following term was used to find my blog:

“mature ladies in cotton briefs,pics”

How that happened I cannot even begin to guess.  I’m pretty sure I’ve never written about mature ladies in cotton briefs, and I know I’ve never written about pictures of them or posted pictures of old ladies in granny panties.  Dude, that’s just sick.

I have many updates on the Man-Friend situation, but they’ll have to wait until later.  I’m getting ready to go to Anjelica’s so she can color my hair, yay!  I’ve got Jersey Skank-Ho roots right now and cannot face myself in the mirror.

My grandparents are coming into town tomorrow to check out another retirement place.  My grandfather was ready for this move a long time ago, but my grandmother is reluctant.  I don’t blame her – I would HATE this.  That said, I think it’s the right thing to do.  My grandfather has macular degeneration and is going to need lots of help, and my grandmother has her health issues as well (they’re both over 85 years old).  They’ve just been so independent for so long that it’s got to be hard to face this.  Anyway, we’ll have a dinner thing tomorrow night at my aunt’s house and another one on Sunday at my parent’s house.  On Saturday they’re going to check out the place.  It’s not like a retirement home per se.  It’s like condos with different levels of assisted living.  Personally, I think it’s pretty fucking depressing even if it does need to be done.  I don’t want to die, but man, I don’t want to be ooolllddd.

My Saturday will be more fun than theirs I think.  I’m going to a dinner party with a bunch of skating people.  The party is being given by one of the adult skaters for a friend of hers who is in town.  Most of the people there are going to be pretty old (and by that I mean relative to our group – these people are in their 50s and we’re not).  So when things die down, we’re going to come back to my house for a real party, yay! 

Sadly, at my own party I can’t really drink much because on Sunday, I’m going shooting again.  I don’t think I’d do well hungover.  D and I were trying to figure out what kind of gun I would use this time, but we failed.  We’ve decided to just wait and see what they have.  All I know is I wasn’t thrilled with the XD, but I have no frame of reference, so what do I know?  He asked me what I didn’t like, and I said the noise and the kick.  He goes, “Well, that’s kind of going to be all guns.”  Oh.  I guess I have to get used to it then. 

So that’s my upcoming weekend in a nutshell.  Tomorrow is going to suck, I can tell already.  I only have seven lessons left with D, and I’m starting to get just sick about it.  It’s funny because everyone at the rink tries to put such a happy face on it – like, “Oh, Nick’s going to be your new coach?  You guys are going to look great together because you’re both tall and blonde” – that was the lady who’s having the party on Saturday.  For the record, while I am blonde, I’m not tall.  I’m just tall compared to most ice dancers.  A bunch of other people have told me that I’ll have lots of fun with Nick, which I know is true.  He’ll also be picky like D which is good.  I just don’t know if he’ll be as picky, but he better be!  I’m a perfectionist, but if my coach isn’t looking for it too, I’ll slack off.  I’m lazy like that.  That’s why J isn’t going to be my dance coach.  He looks for “good enough for an adult” (that’s not actually a quote from him, but he has more than once said that we don’t have to live up to the same standard as the kids.  Well, duh, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t strive for it).  That just doesn’t fly with me.  Anyway, I’m glad this whole coaching question is taken care of because I had four coaches approach me today.  Sorry guys, it’s done!  I’d still move back to fucking New Mexico in a heartbeat if it were at all feasible though.  This sucks a great big ass!!!

Random thought of the moment:  I would love an omelette.  I’d want it to have bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms, and peppers.  Then I’d cover it in salsa.  On the side, I’d like pancakes with LOTS of syrup.  The irony of this random thought is that I weighed this morning and I only have three pounds to go, so of course after skating today, I did nothing but stuff my face.  I ate an entire bag of Pirate’s Booty.  An entire fucking bag, are you kidding me with this shit?  I also had two oatmeal raisin cookies, countless Reese’s mini peanut butter cups (I think it was a total of 12, jeezus), Starbucks, two big bowls of cereal, normal oatmeal, and yogurt.  I feel like I ate something else too, but I can’t think of it.  You may notice a lack of veggies there.  Oops, my bad.  The only proper meal that I ate was the oatmeal and yogurt at breakfast.  Everything else was very snacky.  Hopefully I’ll do better tomorrow, but I think sometimes you need a day of really crappy eating.  And you know what?  I could still eat some more today.  Yee-ikes!

I don’t have too much going on this week.  I should be doing laundry, but that is so not fun, so I’m avoiding it by blogging about how I have nothing to do.  Hunh.

So what is going on?  Well, let’s see.  Man-Friend came over last night.  It was lots of fun – we laughed a lot and had dinner (steak – I insisted as I’ve been craving red meat like you wouldn’t believe).  Then we came back here and watched “Survivorman”.  That dude is a riot.  Then we went to, ahem, bed.  We ended up sleeping til like eleven this morning, oops.  It was cold and rainy though, so it was really good sleeping weather.  Unfortunately, since we slept so late, I missed my scheduled session on the ice.  I was going to go to a later one, but I had a conference call this afternoon with my financial guy.

Or make that, I was supposed to be having a conference call.  He cancelled by email because he had a migraine.  I was sitting here waiting for the phone to ring at three and was checking my email when I saw it.  So now I’m like, well, what to do?  I need to go to Target (we have a condom emergency.  There’s only one left.  This is very very very bad), and Munchkin has a band concert tonight.  The issue is that my car is in the shop having maintenance done and should be ready any minute now.  I don’t want to be at Target when I get that phone call, so I’m waiting, lalalalala.  If nothing else, I can go after the concert.  Seriously, is my life not the most exciting thing ever???

J’s birthday is tomorrow, so I also need to pick up something for him.  I have no idea what to get him, so I’ll probably lame out and grab a gift card.  I suck!

Oh, I know what I could do that’s not laundry!  The power went out last night, so all my clocks need to be reset.  There’s some fun.  Good goobies, I need to get a job or something. 

I just ate the biggest burrito I’ve ever seen in my whole life.  I’m in Austin and Jason went to get us food from some Mexican restaurant.  This thing had to be eight inches by four inches and about three inches thick.  I put down a little more than half of it, and the next thing on our agenda is to go shopping for clothes.  I may not need new jeans.  The old ones may not be so baggy anymore.

The hair show on Tuesday was fun.  I was “Punk Girl”.  The make-up artist put red lipstick on my eyes which took three days to fully disappear.  I was like, “Really, how many times do I have to wash my face?”  The answer is eight.  One of the girls was still in high school, and she was like, “Um, I go to Highland Park* High School, and we don’t dress like this there.”  I thought, you know sweetheart, if you think I’ve ever dressed like this in my life or ever will again, you’re fucking kidding yourself.  She had trouble getting into the spirit of things.

One final note: my robo-mouth is done.  I’ve got the crowns and everything, so no more stupid mouthpiece.  When I’m brushing my teeth though, I keep reaching over to grab it and brush it too, but it’s not there anymore!  What a relief.  I’m getting the crowns redone though because the shape doesn’t match my other teeth perfectly.  I’m sorry, after spending $15,000 on my mouth over the past year, everything better be exactly how I want it.  So these crowns are temporary, but still, no more mouthpiece, yay!  Oh yeah, I had this dream last night that all my crowns (I have a total of six) fell off and I lost my wallet and couldn’t pay to get them back on.  Yikes!

*Highland Park is the snootiest area in Dallas.  This girl was sweet, but yeah, she was a little snotty too.

Last night the Munchkin and I went to my spins coach’s (A) birthday dinner party.  It was at this place called Sushi Loco.  I don’t do sushi, but they had other stuff, so it was fine.  I had Shrimp Fried Rice, and Munch had Beef Fried Rice.  D suggested that I eat a California Roll, but I couldn’t get past the seaweed part.  I guess I’m not very adventurous with the food.  He also told A to make me try Wasabi.  Uh, I think not.  J and L were there too, but they got there really late so they were on the other end of the table from me which meant I didn’t talk to them much.  D wasn’t there at all because he’s off in Mansfield shooting targets with his BFF.  He put all his food input in on Friday when he found out I was going.

Anyway, it was pretty far from where I live (what isn’t???), so I had to limit myself to one glass of wine.  When I got home, I texted D about the party and found out he and his BFF had emptied a bottle of something (probably either vodka or gin with those two) and they were pretty wasted.  He said they were doing the drunk test.  I asked how that worked, and all he would say was that it was a male ice dancer thing.  After probing further, all I could get out of him was that it didn’t involve their dicks.  At any rate, I was a bit jealous not to have consumed part of their empty bottle.  Oh well!

Oh yeah, on the way home, Munch and I decided to stop and get ice cream.  I’m lactose intolerant, so you have to wonder how wise that decision was.  The thing is though, I love ice cream and cheese and all sorts of other dairy stuff.  So I ate it.  In fact, I ate an entire pint of Mint Chocolate Chip.  I’m a pig, but when you know it’s all coming back out via built-in bulimia, you say, “What the fuck?” and go for it.  Unfortunately, it didn’t all come back out.  I was a little freaked, thinking, “Oh shit, I ate all that ice cream and it’s going to stick.”  Sometimes the built-in bulimia just doesn’t work.  I don’t know why that is – I mean, if you’re unable to digest dairy and it gives you what it gives me, why doesn’t it always happen?  Well, it turns out it was on a delayed reaction.  I have spent all of today thus far in the bathroom.  Nice!  It’s giving me a chance to catch up on catalog browsing.

As far as other plans for today, I plan on living the Office Space dream of doing nothing.  I should go to the grocery store and Lowe’s (I need to get blinds cut for my bathroom which is freaking cold and needs help on the window areas to fix that – don’t worry, I’m not being an exhibitionist as the windows are that frosted kind or whatever that’s called).  I think I’ll do all that tomorrow though.  I don’t have ice tomorrow because whenever there’s a three day weekend, they do a hockey tournament, and we lose our ice.  All the coaches were excited because they get a rare weekend off plus most of Monday.  They have skate school Monday night, but I don’t go to that.  It’s for people who are just starting.

Random thoughts today:

1.  How old do I have to be before I stop breaking out?  I’m 38 years old, and my face has broken out for no apparent reason.  My chest broke out a couple of weeks ago and is just now clearing up.  The thing I don’t get is that I have really dry skin – like flaky dry (that’s attractive!), so how in the fuck am I breaking out anyway???

2.  I’m watching the Australian Open.  The women are scary huge.  Serena Williams scares me.  But what I really want to know is why do Australian accents sound so hot on the men but so freaking stupid on the women?

3.  I’m a little sad that I only have two real random thoughts at the moment.  I guess my brain isn’t on full power yet.  That is assuming it ever is on full power.  There are people who would say it never is, but they’re assholes!

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