May 23, 2007

I have been tagged people by Chris and you know what that means? That means she thinks I’m getting old fabulous and loves me. She’s tagged me with with the following two things, which I will now share with you. I know you’re dying to know as usual. Why? Because I fight crime with my insanity beauty and anyone who can do that, well, people want to know everything about them.

WHEN I AM AN OLD WOMAN, I HOPE TO:

1. Be able to chew properly. I hope to keep all of my own teeth and not have some kind of set that you drop in a glass on the nightstand. The thought of my teeth floating beside my bed, brings shivers to my spine.

2. Not shit myself. I’ve not so far (well I did that one time back in the day but I was one, so I don’t think that counts), but seeing as I’m only 39 25, I don’t think I have to worry about that right away unless I eat some really bad seafood and there’s no indoor plumbing near by. However, I’m not very concerned about it at this moment in time.

3. Still have sex. Even if my husband perishes before me, I hope to have some sort of swingin’ lifestyle that will provide this old gal with some pleeeeeeaaaaa-sure if you know what I’m sayin’. You know, right now, the thought of old lady me getting it on, is well, making me sorta nauseous. I think I might need to find that indoor plumbing now. Be right back.

4. Be able to wipe my own rear. I will invent some sort of wiper should my arms become too fragile to do the job by themselves. No way will I hire someone to do any sort of wiping for me. Just not happening people, just not happening.

5. Still be semi hot. Not hot as in ‘oh I have a fever and nasty rash’ hot, but old lady hot. I think this one might be a pipe dream but I could be senile by then anyway, so let’s just go with it mmmkay?

Onto the next part, which, you’re just holding your breath waiting for. Maybe I should do part 2 tomorrow and make you dream about me all night long. I’m not that cruel, however. You can still dream about me though.

WHEN I AM AN OLD WOMAN, I WILL NOT:

1. Tell you how many times I passed gas before noon. Besides, people like me,liars princesses, don’t pass gas. It’s a true fact people.

2. Have short, old lady bad perm hair. I like my hair. I’ve not always liked my hair and it’s taken me many years to come to fall in like with it, so I will not cut it all off and make it all curly and gray. I will dye it. I will leave it sorta long, probably not as long as it is now but I will not have short, white, carpet hair. Sure the other wrinkly broads at the old folks home will hate me but so what? Eat it betches.

3. Wear polyester stretch pants or blouses with ruffles or undershirts (not sure if old women wear undershirts, maybe that’s old men, whatever, I’m not wearing them), wear giant ‘granny panties’, soft soled nurse type shoes or elastic waisted anythings. If I look like a retarded asshat wearing my lowcut lacy black bra under my sexy white tee and my tight jeans with the hot high heeled boots, that’s my business. I’ll cut you.

4. Have bunions. I will cut them off before I walk around with fungus on my feet or whatever the hell bunions are. I will file that fucker off before I walk around with an gross lump on my pretty little feet.

5. Have a turkey neck. There is no need for one. Honestly, wrap that baby up, clip it, tape it, sand it, get surgery, something. Just no need to walk around, all flappy and shit.

And there you have it. My old lady list of do’s and don’ts. I’m sure you’ll all be sleeping like babies tonight, just having that much more information on me. I’m thoughtful like that. Thank you Chris for tagging me. I’m pretty sure you said you’d pay me like $235 for doing this, so check’s in the mail right? Right.

*Edit* I’d list some people to tag but having five 895 fans is a bit much to list and I’d feel horrible if I left anyone out. So if you feel like doing this, do it and come back and tell me you did it. I, however, will not pay you like Chris is paying me. We have a special relationship.

May 22, 2007

I’m sure most people have seen an episode of Fear Factor. And if you haven’t, you should because it’s really rivoting television. By rivoting, I mean it’s gross. The stuff they make those people eat, is just nasty. Well they don’t make the contestants eat the junk, the contestants are apparently hard up for cash and will do just about anything for some money. The thing is, it’s not huge money. Most game shows now, head towards large amounts of moola, not FF, they win a whopping 50 grand on that show. Sure, I don’t have 50 thousand in my bank account right now but I’m also not willing to eat bull balls with a side of goat hair. Just not doin’ it.

However, my husband will apparently eat weird things, oh, for FREE. For FUN. Just for the pure pleasure of grossing out his family. I’m so not even kidding one little bit.

We had to stop and pick up a receipt at some guy’s house and it was sorta rainy yesterday. And when it rains, what happens? Come on, you know. Certain creatures crawl out of the earth. I know you can totally see where I’m going with this. As the kids and I are sitting in the truck, we see hubby coming back down the walkway and as he approaches the sidewalk, he bends down and picks something up. At first, I’m thinking he’s picked up a spider and is going to throw it at his very arachnophobic wife, you know, for shits n’ giggles but as I’m about to jump out of the truck and start running really fast, I see what he’s holding. It’s. a. worm.

He opens the truck door and immediately my kids start screaming. Okay, it’s totally normal for people to be afraid of spiders, kids (like your mom), but worms? Come on. Toughen up for petesake. As my husband is standing there holding the worm, he raises his arm up, tilts his head back and in goes the worm. In his mouth. As in, he ate it. I’m shocked but not 100% because I’ve seen this performance before, about 6 years ago while gardening with him. Our older 2 boys were just as horrified as their younger siblings were now. I guess it’s a tradition or something. It’s a right of passage. Yes kids, now you can say you’ve seen your father eat a worm and then laugh hysterically about how nauseated you are seeing him swallow it. We all tell him that that is sick and nasty and he tells us that obviously we’re chickens. No honey, we’re not chickens, because if we were, we’d eat the stupid worm. So there. Nanny nanny boo boo.

*Edit* Next time it rains, I’m totally going to tape him eating another worm and post it, so you can witness the horror that we had to see. You’ll barf. And then I’ll laugh. No, wait, you might make me clean it up and that people, would NOT be funny.