Did you know that in the little booklet that comes with my video camcorder, it tells owner not to use the battery in water. Do not install battery while in water. Well shit, they take the fun out of everything.
My new hair dryer instructions tell me not to blow dry my hair in water. FUCK. I was going to start drying my hair while still in the shower to save time, conserve energy and, oh, GET ELECTROCUTED.
Shit. I’m starting to get a little paranoid. What about you ask? Well, read on.
So I’m wondering if it’s possible that I am white trash? I can’t quite grasp the concept. I mean I have all my teeth, bathe daily, shave my legs every single fucking day, always smell pretty, am educated, wear alot of pink, have cute and/or sexy panties, have nice nails, don’t eat from a trough, speak in complete and full sentences, don’t scratch my privates in public and my house isn’t on wheels. However, I’m a tad concerned. If you remember, I’ve had this conversation with myself before, here. But now something else has cropped up. My keyboard. And what pray tell, could be so horribly wrong with one’s keyboard that would make one afraid that oneself is white trash? Lemme tell ya.
I’ve got a decent keyboard. It’s wireless and came with a nice wireless laser mouse. It’s black, kinda sleek, nice. But we’ve had it for awhile now, so obviously the letters get worn off of the keys after some time. Luckily the keyboard came with replacement letters that you just fit on the keys, they’re the exact size of the key and you just stick them on. Great. But now those are worn, so alot of the letters are again, gone. Now for me that’s not an issue, since I can type with my eyes closed. I don’t ever have to look at the keyboard. Of course I’m not the only one using said keyboard. Sigh. Big fucking sigh.
Hubby says to me that we need new keyboard stickers. Okay fine, how hard is that? Well apparently they’re next to impossible to buy. Yes, we could buy a new keyboard but I like my keyboard and other than some letters missing from the keys, it’s fine. But my man is a hen pecking, one fingered (sometimes 2) typing kinda guy, so he really needs to know where the letters are. We go out on Sunday and try to purchase the stickers. Noone has them. I guess they want people to buy a brand new keyboard and not just put the keyboard replacement stickers on them. I said we should try the Dollar store. You never know, they might just have some. Well they don’t. But they did have some stickers…..not for a keyboard, more for a child sticking them in a book or something of that nature. But hubby insists we get them. They’re gold. Gold with black letters. Now when you think of gold, you think of class, riches, money. Well get that out of your head, because these stickers neither show class, look rich or make people think you’ve laid out big bucks for them. They look cheap, gawdy and well, fucking cheesy. Ya. Well guess who’s going shopping on Friday for a new keyboard?
Oh my freakin’ gawd, I’m freakin’ freaking on my freakin’ friend Karen….in a good way of course! She gave me a brand new look and can I just say, I freakin’ love it! I’m all fluttery inside and have goosebumps. Okay, so sue me, I’m a freak. How many times can I say freak or forms of the word freak? Alot. So get over it. Thank you Karen for giving me a hot lookin’ space baby! Muah!
I bought myself a new hat on the weekend. It’s pink (really?) and kinda fuzzy and I freakin’ love it. I decided to wear it today. Did you know that when you wear a hat, that you really have to commit the whole day to wearing it? Well you do. I came home from taking my daughter to school and took my hat off. A little later on, I happened to walk by a mirror and the horror almost knocked my socks off. Oh my gawd,”hat hair” is fucking hideous. I will not be posting that picture. No thanks. So I will be wearing said hat the rest of the day. Even to my bathroom breaks. Why oh why is there no warning labels on hats? “Caution. Wearing this hat will cause your hair to look like you’re on crack, look like you never run a brush through your rat nest, have abnormally flat hair and will make your family and friends run screaming for their bloody lives“.
I’m listening to the news yesterday and a story peaks my interest. It’s about a body that was found in a home in Cincinnati. What’s so interesting about that? I mean bodies are found in homes all the time. However, this body was in the home for 2 1/2 years. Sitting in a chair. Watching tv. What the fuck?
The woman, Johannas Pope didn’t want be buried after she died. Well I say tough shit lady, when you die, that means you’re DEAD, so I’m thinking you really don’t get a say in the matter. See we don’t normally keep dead bodies lying around in our homes, like ever. But her live-in caregiver wanted to make her wish come true because apparently Johannas was going to come back after she died anyway, so might as well save the hassle of a burial and all the other crap, not to mention the expense of the funeral. I mean why bother right?
August 2003….that was the month that Johannas died. Died. And here were are in January of 2006. I dare say she wasn’t lookin’ too hot. To top it off, some of her family members continued to live downstairs from Johannas. Hello? Your dead relative is upstairs watching tv. She’s dead. Dead. Oh but they left the air conditioner running for Johannas. I guess that made the room comfortable so she could mummify while watching the Golden Girls perhaps or Jeporady. I mean when you’re dead, you don’t want to get all sweaty and shit. But unfortunately, about a month ago, the air conditioner crapped out. The coroner said you could smell death. Well of course you can smell death fuckwad, she’s DEAD. I know I’ve said dead alot in just this paragraph, but come on, she’s fucking dead.
Anyway, another relative apparently called the cops because he/she hadn’t seen Pope in years. Okay, so let me get this right…you’ve not seen your relative in years and you just get around to calling last week? Better late than never I guess.
The coroner was quoted as saying, “The caregiver is not someone you’d think was from another planet or really seems off the wall…”. She’s not? She left her patient in a chair to watch tv after she died because Johannas was coming back anyway. I don’t know about you but I think of that as “off the wall” and well, fucking weird, so ya, you gotta be from another planet. The coroner said she (caregiver) probably did it out of her love and friendship for Johannas. Well let me tell ya, I love my friends too but if they croaked in my home or theirs for that matter, I’m shipping their asses to the morgue.
Am I twelve? No, I’m not. I’m 30 something but occassionally, I do like things that would also make a 12 year old’s heart go pitter patter. Take for instance the pens in the above picture. They’re from my 9 year old’s book order this month. He brought it home yesterday and while looking at it with him, his own excited cries for the Spongebob book that he wants became muted in my ears as I lovingly looked at those pens. They’re gel pens. With dangly things from them. One has a heart…….Oh my gawd be still my heart. I ordered them today. I swear. They come with a book…ya, ya, whatever, I’m only concerned about owning the pens. So I sent the $5.99 in an envelope with my son. He thought I was ordering them for him and he was so not impressed. I explained that, yes he could get the Spongebob book he wanted so badly and mommy was purchasing the book/pens for herself. He looked at me like I had lava oozing from my ears. Perhaps I do. But who really gives a shit? Mama’s gettin’ herself some glittery, dangly gel pens.
I sometimes use Yahoo mail. So tonight I’m checking it and trying to open a particular email. Well I get this message……”We didn’t understand your request“. Pardon? Why? Because you’re all a bunch of drooling baffoons with your fingers up your poopshute? I’m trying to open my fucking email people. Simple. I click on it, and you open it. Wa La. Get with the program.
I will never have cankles. Period. Don’t believe me? Hmmm…well click here. Ya.
I called my husband yesterday to see how work was going. He was finishing up a job for Myron. And who is Myron you ask? Weeeeellll…..if you click here, you will get a first hand look at someone who apparently, has empty space in their skull. Read on.
Hubby had been doing a big job for Myron, putting siding on etc and of course needed many tools to accomplish this. Tools. As in expensive to replace. So the day before he had asked Myron if he could lock his tools up in his garage instead of loading them all back into the van and then carting them back the next day. Myron was fine with that. Super.
So hubby and Rich put everything in the garage and lock it up. Wonderful. Now they need not worry about hubby’s tools being stolen nor do they have to cart them away just to bring them back the next day. They get to Myron’s yesterday and Rich realizes he left the key inside the garage. Myron comes out and tells them that he’ll get the garage door opener. Ooo Myron is going to save the day. Amazing. He comes back out to tell them that he also left the garage opener in the garage.
As hubby is telling me this, I’m rolling my eyes, thinking what a boob Myron is. Maybe he’s a genius at work. Maybe he’s a fanfuckingtastic lover (I highly doubt this). Maybe he’s got a tongue like Gene Simmons. I don’t know for sure, but I do know the guy has fucking rocks in his head.
Myron’s garage has 2 doors on it. One is bigger than the other. So as hubby and Rich are wondering how they’ll get their tools out, thinking maybe Myron has a spare key or another door opener, Myron speaks up. He tells them that there’s no need to panic, that the smaller of the 2 garage doors is never locked and walks over to it and opens it. From the outside. Opens it. Unassisted by a key or an opener. Ummm wow. Anthony and Rich are looking at each other and probably thinking, does he have melted wax in his head? What the fuck was the point of making a big ta do about LOCKING the other garage door if the smaller one IS ALWAYS UNLOCKED? Gee I’m glad their expensive man shit was all safe and sound, snuggled away in Myron’s unlocked garage. What a relief that was. Thanks so much Myron.
***Shaking my head***
| www.flickr.com |
Subscribe in a reader
