March 31, 2007

To the person who Googled, ‘my poop came out grey’, seek medical attention immediately. I’m not a doctor, although I play one sometimes at home, I am pretty sure poo is supposed to be some version of brown tones. Not grey. Maybe you shit out your brains, which, if that’s the case, I think you could be in serious trouble. I’m just sayin’.

I’ve sprained my wrist I think and it hurts like hell. If I move it a certain way, it shoots this funky pain up my left arm and actually makes my jaws ache. Maybe that’s why I’ve had this lingering migraine for weeks. I’m not sure. Or maybe it’s the booze. Who knows right? Yes I said I sometimes play a doctor at home, but not all the time, so dammit, I don’t have all of the answers. Do I look like Super Woman to you? Oh. I do? Well spank my ass and call me a bisquit. No, wait. Butter my butt and call me Judy. Hmmm. Spank my butter and punch me in the face? I can’t remember the exact phrase right now, I’m running on empty and I’m tired. And cranky. And hungry. And a big ball of emotions. And I’m old. And I’m still hungry.

I should really go make supper but something’s stopping me. It’s called I DON’T FUCKING WANT TO. I was sure I hired a chef but he must have quit. Maybe because I paid him in used buttons and leftover chicken drippings. Talk about fussy. Hard to find good help these days.

Sigh, I’m leaving now. My kids are playing behind me and they’re very loud and kind of annoying and remember I mentioned I’m cranky? Ya. I will go see if I can get myself invited someplace for supper. I’m not sure how that will happen but I’m sometimes magic, so we’ll see.

March 12, 2007

I like have a secret but I can’t tell you yet. Probably tomorrow. Hopefully you can wait that long. And if not, well, ah, I, guess, err, too bad? Ha.

It’s Monday, albeit almost over. It was one of those rollercoaster ride days. My stomach was flip flopping all day for a variety of reasons. I’m sure none of them because I ate a giant bag of M&M’s 2 M&M’s.

I changed my voicemail message today on my home phone. Only one person has heard it so far, and she loved it. I think I’ll keep it for awhile. Wanna know what it says? I’m telling you anyway. Well, I’ll give you a tiny bit of background, so it will make sense and hopefully be funny for you. I’m considerate like that. We get alot of wrong numbers for Tim Hortons (coffee shop and it actually was their number in NINETEEN NINETY NINE. GET.A. NEW. PHONE. BOOK. PEOPLE.) and it’s also close to Economy Glass. So my angelic voice *cough* says this:

“Hi, this isn’t Tim Hortons and it”………shit, hang on, I have to call my house to listen to it, I forget the exact wording. Nothing like ruining the punch line. Give me a sec……………Okay, here it is:

“Hi, this ISN’T Tim Hortons, and it ISN’T Economy Glass but if you’re looking for the Smiths (not my real last name), then you know the drill. Bye.”

Isn’t that sweet? I thought it was genius really. And by genius, I mean, dumb, but what the hell? You only live once and I wanted to be a phone rebel. Boo.

Totally switching gears here, Have you seen that commerical for some dish cloth type product? I’m not being very specific but I can’t remember the product name, but what I think is really lame, is they show a woman holding up a dirty, smelly, ratty, disgusting dish cloth (which she sniffs in the commercial and then makes a gagging face….how ’bout this, THROW THAT FUCKER AWAY), that she supposedly washes her dishes with and how she should switch to this other kind of dish cloth that you apparently never have to wash, like ever. My question is, who would actually wash the dishes that THEY EAT OFF OF with a shit hole of a rag, that you can pretty much see the stink fumes rolling off of it? Why do some commercials have to make women seem like morons? Why? Sure, I’ve run into poles, made the crappiest meatloaf around and generally make an ass out of myself on a regular basis but at least I have clean, nice smelling dish cloths. One of my fine qualities dontcha think?

Oh, my freakazoid neighbours finally cleaned up the 8 bazillion piles of dog shit off of their DECK. I don’t have a dog. I have had dogs in the past when we lived in the country, so I do have some experience with being a pet owner and I’m pretty sure we didn’t let our dogs crap on our deck. We kinda preferred, oh, THE GROUND. They have 4 dogs, so they had 4 months worth of 4 dogs’ shit piles on their deck. And if you looked out my livingroom window, into their backyard, you got a super view of their toilet deck covered in poo. Very nice. Oh, and a side note…they still have their Christmas tree up. I’m not even kidding.

I have to go because I now have a headache because of speaking about my neighbours. Why do I even mention them? I dunno, it’s like they’re a trainwreck and I can’t look away or they’re like aliens from another planet and are trying to live normally amoung us real humans but are kinda fucking it up. Oh well, to each his own. Sweet dreams. And remember, I have a secret, which I might tell you tomorrow. Try to get a good night’s rest even though you’ll be totally dreaming about me and my secret. Don’t even try to deny it.