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I went in to check my spam queue (that’s a fun word to type), and I found a comment on my “Just a Quickie” post saying they had missed the point.  It made me laugh and didn’t offend me at all because I very often get on here as a brain purge.  So there frequently isn’t a point other than I’m thinking outloud through my fingers.  So y’all are the lucky readers of my random thoughts, ramblings, gibberish, and all that whatnot.  Yay for you!  Anyway, I fixed the comment so it’s on that post (as well as another saying they agreed – I’m not sure if they agreed that they missed the point or if they agreed that it sucks that there aren’t Dairy Queens in the sort-of country or what, but it wasn’t spam so I put it where it belonged).  My point is (hey!  I have one!!!) that if your comment isn’t spam, I’ll allow it.  Unless you’re an asshole.  Then I just say it’s spam and delete it.  The spam filter on wordpress is pretty decent though, so it’s rare that I have to recover comments.

K, on to the good old random crap that I write.  I bought a new car, finally.  My old car wasn’t old, but it wasn’t really mine either.  See, when I got divorced, I was driving a Lexus that my ex bought me, but it was in his name.  He was supposed to get it put in my name, but never got around to it (it was a lease, so he would’ve had to buy it and then sell it to me which means he would’ve had the payments on the lease accelerated and due all at once.  Whatever, he can afford it).  Since I’m moving out of state, I wasn’t interested in bringing a four year old car which is out of warranty and not in my name.  So Munchkin and I went car shopping.  So not fun.  Oh dear God, please I really hated car shopping.  I ended up getting a Ford Escape.  I originally wanted the hybrid, but there’s like a nine month waiting list, and I didn’t have that kind of time.  Plus, you end up spending like ten grand more than I spent, and there is no way in fuck you’re going to recover that in gas savings.  I feel bad saying that because I wanted the hybrid more for the enviromental reasons than the gas savings, but you know, a girl has to be practical too.  Anyway, it gets the same mileage in a V-6 as my car did, so I’m okay with that.  My payment is the same, and this one I’ll actually own.  I won’t do a lease again.  I’ve named her Dori (like in Nemo because of “Es-cahp-ay”).  I do get a little sad when I see a car like my old one though.  And I’ll miss the weekly free car washes that I really never took advantage of.  Just cuz I’m lazy!

My house still hasn’t sold which is becoming worrisome.  I’m afraid we’re going to have to revisit price.  It sucks because the house is worth more than I have it on the market for, and I hate to reduce anymore.  Unfortunately the current market is calling for lower prices even in economicly strong places like Dallas.  We haven’t been hit as hard as say L.A. or Vegas, but prices are down about 3%.  Urgh!!!  D and I have decided to move my clothes here in mid-August and have this as my base of operations.  My house will stay furnished because a) houses show better with furniture in them, and b) why pay for storage when I can have it for free in my house?  We’ll bring my car here too.  Right now I’m in New Mexico with him for three weeks, and I have no car.  You want to talk about things that suck?  No car is at the top of my list. 

D ordered this and it comes this week.  He’s very excited.  We’re working on gun placement in the new house.  Basically he wants one within reach at all times.  I know the AK is going under the bed.  Oh, he and his dad started building the new one yesterday.  They let me help despite the fact that I broke the receiver on the last one they tried to build.  (Weird pointless rambling coming up: I was trying to find the post where I wrote about breaking the other AK, and I couldn’t find it so I went into total paranoia mode – “WordPress is stealing my posts!”.  Then just now when I started writing this parenthetical crap I remembered that it was in the comments section of a post.  A-ha!!!  But I figure linking to a post where my point is in comments is, well, pointless.  So I’m not doing it.  The point is simply that I broke a gun.  Oops, my bad!  And to Demission who wrote that comment – I’m just playing and having fun with it.  I hope I’m not upsetting you!  Assuming you came back of course.)

Okay, I’m going to go get ready to skate.  We’re working on my Swing Dance, the Hickory Hoedown, the Willow Waltz, and general technique and stroking.  Which means I’m getting yelled at a lot.  Oh, and getting called his Apathetic Adult.  He doesn’t actually yell, but his displeasure is easy to read.

 

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My house goes on the market on Tuesday, so I’m spending the next four days cleaning and getting rid of junk.  I can’t figure out where the junk came from since I didn’t take anything from the old house when I got divorced.  Crap just accumulates somehow.

Anyway, all this work is making me hungry for something very bad and snacky.  Like Dairy Queen.  Okay, I think we all know I live in Texas.  DQ’s are a dime a dozen here.  On top of that, I live in the country (sort of).  We have cows and alpacas or llamas (what’s the difference???) and sheep and real live ranchers and all that shit.  You know where the closest DQ is?  Nearly ten miles away.  In PLANO.  That’s a real city.  I don’t get it.  I thought all country towns were required to have a DQ.  I guess I’ll go to Sonic instead.

In the course of cleaning out my crap, I’ve discovered that I have lots of empty boxes that once had things like ceiling fans, I-Pod docks, routers, and other assorted stupid shit.  I can’t figure out why I’ve kept the boxes.  They must go away though.  They’re cluttering up closets, and quite frankly, closets are not a huge selling point on this house.  Must make them look bigger somehow.  Clearly the closets are fine for me since I’ve done nothing but junk them up with empty boxes.  Oh, and needlepoints.  I think I went through a phase where I thought I was a crafty person.  I have scrapbooking stuff too, and I’ve never even started one of those things.

Okay, I’m off to work some more.  I need to clean out my closet and get it down to stuff I actually wear which means about four pairs of jeans and a few v-neck t-shirts.  That’s about all I wear anymore besides skating clothes.

Humorous Pictures
see more crazy cat pics

She wants to know more about this Man-Friend of mine … so I’ve been trying to figure out how to do it without giving up too much info because I think he’d go batshit loco if he knew anything about him was on here.  Heh, lucky for me, he doesn’t know where my blog is, only that I have one.  At least I don’t think he knows.  Oh dear, now I’m getting paranoid.

K, anyway, Man-Friend is indeed from Earth as far as I can tell.  He’s a little different than your usual dude his age (which is younger than my age.  Like Demi Moore, I have a great appreciation for younger guys.  They’re more fun).  What I mean by that is he’s a pretty hard-core conservative – most of our other friends are not, so I think it’s a bit unusual.  I’m that way fiscally but not socially, so I have a hard time finding people I want to vote for.  But this isn’t about me, it’s about him.  He has a bust of Ronald Reagan in his room, and if you mention Ann Coulter, his toes curl up like he’s having an orgasm.  It’s pretty funny.  So yeah, he’s pretty freaking conservative.

He does not recycle without prompting.  I cannot even pretend that this doesn’t drive me up a wall.  Whenever I say, “Wait, that goes in the recycler,” he calls me a hippie.  He also says I eat hippie food since I generally don’t eat a lot of meat with the exception of steak, yum.

He’s a cat person.  Understandably, my giant dog freaks him out.  Magnus thinks people who are a little scared of him are the most fun.  He loves to jump all over them and really get them nervous.  Needless to say, Man-Friend is in that majority of my friends and family who think the moose-dog needs to go and be replaced by a cat.  It seems people are not impressed by 85 pounds of exuberant puppy.  Gee, I wonder why?

Let’s see – I mentioned “our friends” which should tell you that he’s a friend who is friends with my friends – he’s been friends with them longer than I have though.  These friends harassed him for like the past year about getting with me.  He said that if he didn’t do something soon, that there was a line behind him ready to go.  I thought that was pretty funny since I had no idea.  As usual – I never ever know when somebody is interested unless I’m getting hit on by a woman.  I think I’ve told that story before though.  I asked who was in line, and he actually told me.  That surprised me.  If the situation were reversed, I wouldn’t have told because I wouldn’t want him to go, “Oh really?  Her?  Hmmmm.”  I did not say that, however.  Not that the guys were bad or anything – they just weren’t him.

We both had Pro/Con lists about getting together.  He lost on mine, but the one big pro – “I want to” won out over all the cons.  I assume I won on his since we do what we do now, but when we were talking about our lists, we just talked about the cons.  Now I’m sitting here all curious about what was on his pro list.  So yeah, we’re both nerds.

He plays games like on XBox.  He’s way better than me at them, but my suckage is well-documented.  He’s got a group of friends that he plays Live with.  They all have really silly names.

Hmm, what else, what else?  We have a bunch of similar interests and disinterests, and we never seem to have a lack of stuff to talk about.  Don’t get us started on food.  We’re both obsessed.

He’s tall (to me anyway – he’s like 5’11”) and slightly built with the world’s nicest ass.  I know I’ve talked about his butt before.  I would not say he’s traditionally handsome, but I think he’s cute.  He’s very funny so I spend a lot of time laughing with him.  I think he spends a lot of time laughing at me, but I’m a dork and I laugh at myself all the time.

I think that’s about all I can give up without giving away too much.  In the meantime, I’m having a good time with him and I like hanging out with him.  So I’m content with the state of things on the Man-Friend front. 

I got this from Eden at So Anyway … (see blogroll).

***The Recipe For Renee***
3 parts Bravery
2 parts Uniqueness
1 part Love

Splash of Compassion

Limit yourself to one serving. This cocktail is strong!
What’s the Recipe for Your Personality?
http://www.blogthings.com/whatstherecipeforyourpersonalityquiz/

So I was bored and I watched this Primetime Live show about family secrets (okay, it’s worse than that – I actually dvr’d it in case of a night where I was so bored as to be willing to watch such a thing).  They had this woman on it, and her father had set up a webcam in her room to take pictures of her changing clothes and whatnot.  My ex-boyfriend is quite handy with computers and owns a number of webcams, and I know what he used to do with them before I came along (and I still dated him.  What the fuck was I thinking???).  Who knows if he set stuff up around here?  I know it sounds far-fetched, but believe me, if you knew this guy, you’d say, “Yeah, it is totally realistic that he would set up webcams all over your house to get a little free porn.”  I can see this as his parting shot.  He knows just how much it would bother me.  I am very self-conscious.  Yes, it is ridiculous, but I’m going to check around for wee cameras before I change my clothes!  Eeewww, I’m already in my jammies.  I guess if he’s watching, he’s already seen me today.  Great.  I’m a little bit bloated at the moment!

Maybe he put in microphones.  I was telling my kid the other day that I didn’t think I’d ever see my Season One set of Battlestar Galactica ever again, and lo and behold, it was in the mailbox today.  If he’s listening, he just heard me burp.  Haha sucka!  That’s what you get!!!  Anyway, maybe it’s a coincidence and maybe not.  It is weird, that’s for sure.

I’m off to bed.  I hope I can sleep without fear of lurking exes.  Dude, that is so freaking nasty!

Today I have done nothing but clean my house all day long.  What I have found is shocking.  I am left with an extreme desire to write a note to all exes around the world.

When you are the ex who is leaving the house you have shared with your former whatever, please take all of your shit with you.  This includes things you no longer want like ugly duvets, smelly old down blankets (especially when your former is allergic to down, thank you very fucking little – that was a snot generator), presents your mother bought for you that you don’t want like a juicer and a shitty mini digital camera (though I may make use of that if I can figure out how to work it since my camera broke, haha sucker), and my personal favorite, an X-Box 360 which you entirely screwed up by making a new power supply for it since the old one “caused overheating” but which then sparked a small electical fire.  What the fuck is that?  Seriously.  I can’t do anything with the X-Box as the newfangled electrical work on it clearly voids the warranty, and nobody wants to touch the damn thing now.  Would it not have been simpler to buy the intercooler in the first place???

But I digress.  My point is, your ex’s home is not your own personal Goodwill drop-off.  I don’t have any more time to take your shit to Goodwill than you do.  So when you move out, take ALL your crap with you, and you deal with it yourself.  It’s not my fucking job, asshole!  I’ll give myself an “amen sister” there.

Now a note for any future boyfriend I may have (though really, with my current attitude, I’m thinking the pickins are slim).  I do not cook.  I’ll tell you this upfront.  I never have, and I never will.  I’ll make the shit out of some cookies and brownies and other yummy junky foods.  But I will not cook real food.  I am perfectly capable of doing it, but I don’t enjoy it.  So I don’t do it.  I’d like to think my skill at blowing you will make up for this, but if you nag me about cooking, you’re guaranteeing yourself a sharp drop in the number of blow jobs given.  Like to nil.

I know I’ve gone off about the cooking issue before, but for whatever reason, and it may have something to do with anger generated by finding random ex-boyfriend droppings scattered around my house, I got all pissed off about it again today.  Fuck dude, I never once said I would cook for you!  Idiot.

Done ranting now.  Thank you and good night!

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