October 27, 2007

Don’t panic kids, I don’t think I really killed Barney, however, if you looked inside my washer you may have a different opinion about that:

Seems washing a fluffy, fuzzy, furry rug is not recommended because your washer will tear the shit out of it. It did come out of the dryer looking relatively nice. It was at least clean.

It’s Saturday afternoon and I’m absolutely not dressed looking so stylish, Vogue will probably be calling any minute now. I have cleaned my house, ran the dishwasher, talked to a friend (who I’m worried about…she called me the President of worry…sweet huh?), fed my kids, gave the cat 90 seconds of undivided attention, made beds, put laundry away and have given serious thought to making cookies. You know, because we all need bigger asses. Right now, it’s just an idea I’m rolling around in my head and it does require some effort, and quite frankly I’m not sure I have any effort to give today. I’m tired. Whiney I know.

I laughed at my husband last night because as we were all out at one of our favourite restaurants torturing the waitress having a nice meal, his cell phone rang. It was however, a wrong number unbeknownst to us for the 10 seconds he was on it. I hear, “Hello? Oh. No, okay, sure, thank you!” I ask him who’s calling him at 8pm on a Friday night on his business number?

Oh it was a wrong number.

Oh. Then why did you thank the person like they had just given you money or want a job done?

I always thank people who call and it’s a wrong number.

Oh. Umm. Why?

I’m not entirely sure.

Oh. crazy much?

I suppose, maybe that one day one of those wrong numbers could possibly turn into a potential customer, so hey, why not thank them for being so dumb, dialing a wrong number? Like who does that? I’ve never dialed the wrong number. Now my fingers have, those lazy bitches, not watching what they’re doing, but not me personally. See how that works? I’m on the ball at all times. Sharp.

‘Member how I was telling you about my new Crockpot/slowcooker? If you don’t, scroll down, it’s somewhere on here but I’m too lazy to go find the damn post and link it. It ain’t that far back. As I was saying, I’ve now cooked 3 meals in that thing and my family is happy that the cramps and vomiting have now stopped from my past cooking ‘incidents’. See how nicely life works out? Ya. Speaking of food, I must go eat something other than vodka apples. Have a great weekend and all that jazz.

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2 Responses to “I killed Barney?”

1. October 27th, 2007 at 11:35 pm, Carolynne Says:

   AH! The poor rug LOL. At least it’s clean and nice now. Haha. So what is the restaurant you like to go to? I love having a regular place to go. I have dialed wrong numbers before…I’ll admit it LOL. But I get them way more often than I..give…them. That didn’t sound right. Oh well. I am cooking in my slowcooker tomorrow! WHOO. My first time. Good for you on your 3 successful times.

2. October 29th, 2007 at 3:02 pm, Ozy Says:

   Damn, I was hoping you (or anybody for that matter) were about to say you DID kill Barney. I have personaly taken several contracts out on him and on several occasions thought I had wacked the SOB myself but it always turns out to be some smuck in a big purple costume. (Which reminds me of how every christmas I try to find that fat bastard who stiffed me getting a new bike on christmas when I was twelve but everytime I think I have the fat fuck cornered it turns out to be some wino in a red suit and fake beard…
   one day Santa…
   One day…)
   but I digress
   Anyhow
   where was I…
   Oh, ya know, I find that I thank people on the phone all of the time too. They’ll ask me to do some thing and I thank them. Of course afterward I’m thinking to myself “self, why the hell did you just thank someone for MORE work…”
   Maybe your hubby is an idiot just like me (except differant).
   I know, ya missed me, hugh?