Wednesday, November 11, 2015

Conversation of Awesomeness - Probably Only I Find it Funny Edition

That Escalated Quickly
ME: Pick a day next week. I can go to downtown Garland if it helps.

SPECTARO: I was thinking about you earlier today. I have been so neglectful, but I have also been SO tired. Downtown does help, at least occasionally. I miss you. Good news is this is my last semester for my masters. Bad news is, I suck at not working my ass off for kids who deserve someone who does. You are a much better wife than I. I must try harder to be a better wife to my husband.

ME: You haven't been any more negligent than I. Work has just been kicking my butt and I've been working evenings and weekends. But I didn't want to go too many weeks again. And I basically live in Garland so no big deal to go downtown. Those kids are lucky to have you. If you've been giving less than 100% it is still 200% more than they are used to. Beating yourself up helps no one. If you become complacent I'll beat you up (smiley face). Never too late to be sweet to your husband.

SPECTARO: I think I love you most because you would kick my ass. Also, sweet was always about sex... he needs less and I don't know how to adapt to that.

I sometimes wonder how many people have given them 100%. I listened to a child (as I had students build DNA from fancy k'nex kit I bought) say repeatedly "I don't know how to play with toys" and then I considered that reality.

ME: You love me because you can tell me to get over myself and I won't get upset and I'll keep you straight too. Maybe HUSBAND doesn't know how to play with toys either. Think in terms of peoples' experiences. Listen to HUSBAND and what he needsd and try more of that. Or take a lover, I don't know.

SPECTARO: HUSBAND appears to need more sleep. I can't fix that. Also, I am WAY too tired to take a lover :)

ME: Oh, in that case, make HUSBAND drink more or drug him. Seriously, I'm going to start charging you for this shit.\

SPECTARO: lol, you probably should. He won't drink more. Need more information about drugging him... roofies? Viagra? Not sure what product or where to obtain such... although the gas station near you would be my first stop.

ME: Making people drink more or drug them is my go to like Dear Abby suggests counceling or "speak to a priest". Get a prescription for ambien or I can get some flexeril from Bat. And now we have officially have digital correspondence that sounds like the start of a murder plot. See you on Dateline bitch.

SPECTARO: We are so beyond ambien. We are at tramazodone and its cousins. And dateline it is!

ME: Bat has pain killers as well. And all kinds of rope. His ball gags have holes so you're on your own there. Wait, we were talking about what again? School fundraisers, right?

SPECTARO: Absolutely. And gardening.

ME: I was knitting earlier so that fits. The chair is against the wall. The. Chair. Is Against. The Wall.

SPECTARO: The rooster has flown the coop. Flown. The. Coop.

ME: Fuck! You never said anything about guns!! WHO HAVE YOU BROUGHT INTO THIS?!?!?!?!?
SPECTARO: Why do I feel unsure about whether to google rooster, flown, or coop first?

Thursday, October 15, 2015

Tall People and Oranges

Glass of Water
There are a lot of tall women on my floor. Not only are they tall but they wear high heals, which is awesome; I love when tall women wear heals. It's just strange because it seems like a common thing on this floor whilst on the other floors I've worked in this building, you'd have maybe one lady gazing down upon all the others.

To be fair, most of the women tend to wear heals on this floor. OK, that's bullshit because I don't actually know if it's true. But I can say that a lot of the women in my department wear them on a regular basis. Generally, they arrive in flipflops, flats, or sneakers, and then put on their heals. Sometimes they make it to the end of the day and sometimes they switch back around lunchtime.

I don't know why but this made me think why are we still doing this? Remember 'Working Girl'? Is that the one with Melanie Griffith? You see her in her socks and sneakers walking to the ferry or the subway or whatever along with all the other busy business women and then she switches into heals when she gets to the office. It's so weird that we still do that same damn thing to this day. I only really thought about it because I'm wearing a pair of royal purple faux-suede booties that aren't that comfortable after awhile and so have my black flats in my bag. To my credit, I rarely change shoes at work.

Cause I'm a badass.

No, not really. It's really only because I wear the same heals all the time and so they aren't uncomfortable or, if you look closely, all that attractive given the wear and tear. And I'm not knocking women who do this regularly. If I'm knocking anyone it is shoemakers (cobblers!) for not figuring out how to make attractive shoes comfortable yet. It's 2015 for pity's sake; there are people with legit plans for when "the shit comes down" but no one has figured out how to give a girl the beauty of a high heal with the comfort of an orthopaedic? That's just sad.

I'm trying to work more fruit into my diet so as to avoid old timey illnesses like rickets and scurvy. I began slowly, bringing an apple to work with me each day beginning last Wednesday. So far, I've eaten an apple each day I've been in the office (W, TH, and F of last week and T, W, and TH of this week so far). I know, I know, the plaque in my honor is in the works I'm sure. This is all very boring I know, but something stupid/funny happened today and it all has to do with my "eat more of the fruits" decision.

Thought I'd up my game by adding an orange into the mix. I brought the orange on Tuesday and finally got around to trying it out today. Apparently, I suck at oranges. Using my pocket knife, I scored the bastard all over, planning on pealing it and eating the segments. The end result was ridiculous and pretty gross looking. What's that layer between the peal and the fruit called? You know, that annoying white layer that separates you from the delicious flesh of your citrus? Well, whatever it is called, it was solidly clinging to my orange so that the fucker looked like a baseball. By the time I got done trying to get that sucker off, I ended up with an orange that looked like it had been disemboweled.

Not a huge deal because whatever, it's an orange and oranges are delicious even if you have to eat one that looks like some sort of aborted explosion attempt. Only you probably shouldn't attempt to eat that version in the workplace - or anywhere public really - because the end result is pretty awful. I had juice running down my face, splashing onto my skirt, running down my hands and arms down to my elbow, and all over my desk. The sounds I made trying to tear orange segments from the peal were unfortunate and all in all, I felt bad for my colleagues.

Janine Garafalo (sp?) once said, whilst trying to explain her lazy, mediocre approach to life, that she's a "can you start my orange" sort of person. From now on, unless I settle and cut the damned thing up into wedges like a soccer mom, I'm going to find actual mothers in my department and ask them to start my fucking orange for me because this shit was just ridiculous.  

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Lonely Hearts Party of Two

I am in a relationship whilst simultaneously being in the lonely hearts club. Weird, right? It isn't like my significant other deployed overseas for a tour of duty or anything. No, my SO lives like eight miles away from me. But unless it is the weekend and we are at the farm with his parents, the Bat and I rarely see one another.

Camping was supposed to provide us with some one on one time so we could reconnect and be boyfriend and girlfriend for awhile. Unfortunately, the Bat's security guard and her friends never showed up so it was just Honey and us. We had a good time but the Bat and I couldn't just leave Honey on her own while we went off as a couple. It would have been rude.

With Monkey working and relying on her dad for transportation, coupled with the fact that it is like pulling teeth to get the Bat to come to my place, it feels like I'm in a long distance relationship. I don't go to his place because there are too many people there and the morning commute is a nightmare since I have to go home and feed my cat. That and it actually fucks with me that I always go there because this is something the Bat and I discussed months ago (like six months or more at this point) and he promised he'd come over more. Even before Monkey started working there was usually a reason why he couldn't come over unless it was a Wednesday, the one single day of the week when he'd concede and come to my apartment. If it wasn't a Wednesday there was definitely a reason. Seriously, I think he maybe came one extra day in the last six to eight months.

Not that I'm bitter about that or anything. Obvs.

He was supposed to come over last night. We were going to watch a movie. Unfortunately, he didn't confirm things with the kiddo so thought the work schedule on the fridge was current when it was really last week's. So at the very end of my work day he told me that it was off because he had to take Monkey to work. I'll admit that I did get upset but I kept telling myself to knock that off because it doesn't do any good. I'm also used to this so should be neither surprised nor unduly upset. It's difficult though, because, as I've said before, I can't control these stupid lady feelings. I recently emailed the Bat to explain what I've been trying to tell him for weeks now. I need to feel like I'm a girlfriend. I need to feel appreciated. I need to feel loved and cared for. I actually asked him "what would you do if you wanted a girl to know that you loved her? What would you do to show a girl that you cared?"

He's made some efforts since then, for which I'm grateful, but it still stung that through his carelessness our plans were null and void. Monkey is off later this week but Spectero and I made plans last week so I'm unavailable.

Looks like for the time being I have a weekend boyfriend. Monkey goes for her license test on Monday so I guess maybe I'll get one extra day.

Sometimes I wonder if any of this is worth it.

*I got that picture from this website. 

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Camping - Autumn 2015

Well, we finally went camping and it was extremely relaxing. It was a bit cold, as was the water, so swimming wasn't as great as the last time, but the laying around doing nothing part was fantastic. I do wish we'd taken time to actually hike some of the trails but we got there close to dark on Friday and on Saturday, the Bat and our friend, Honey, both took naps so that was out. 

Still, I enjoyed myself. We really don't do much when we camp. We swim, cook, and just hang out. Saturday evening was my favorite because as we were sitting around the (small - much burn ban so sad face) fire, I used the Bat's phone to play podcasts of spooky stories. They weren't incredibly scary but they also weren't incredibly cheesy. They were pretty much perfect. I was actually surprised because both Honey and the Bat enjoyed it as well. 

We utilized all of the items I'd purchased recently. The dishes really helped us cut down on trash and this was the neatest campsite I've ever been part of. Granted, we didn't have teenagers with us and I'm sure that contributed a bit but we had way less trash than my previous experiences. The ladle came in handy for dinner, as I knew it would, and the lantern was a lantern. It was slightly disappointing, the lantern. It provided great light but needs some sort of shield so you don't blind yourself whenever you turn it on or off. Also, the USB charger never really worked unless I turned the crank on the damn thing (it's solar powered but if you turn the crank enough you can power it that was as well). I don't regret buying it but was a bit bummed. 

Now we are back and reality is settling in around me. I took Monday off for a doctor's appointment and pedicure so yesterday was for slowly easing back into things. We'll go down to the farm on Friday, of course. It feels a bit weird not having seen the Bat's parents this past weekend just because we've seen them every week for a couple of months now. I wonder how much his mother has gotten done on the house. 

We shall see. In the mean time, back to work and getting my apartment sorted. 

Monday, September 21, 2015


This weekend was interesting if nothing else. The Bat and I were supposed to go to dinner on Friday evening to celebrate our anniversary. I wore a nice dress that I really like but that I never have reason to wear, and we picked up some booze to bring to the BYOB cafe in town down in the country. Unfortunately, Antique Ally happened this weekend and it was packed. I was pretty upset and disappointed because the Bat and I already don't get any time together that isn't with other people and/or doesn't involve working, and I couldn't even have this one night. The Bat didn't really care that much because he's not romantic in that particular way but, as he told me, he was sad because I was sad and he doesn't like that. We managed to have a good time nonetheless, talking and drinking with his parents and then going out to do donuts in the truck.

I always think I'm over donuts and then we do them again and I'm giddy all over again.

The Bat's back was still painful so we didn't put up the drywall like we'd planned, but I did clean out the solarium, which took more effort than I originally thought considering that it led me to organize a closet. No one helped me or watched me do it and so everyone kept talking about how it was a nice relaxing weekend even though I worked! And his mom ripped stuff up off the floor (I can't remember what it was called) so she and I totally worked.

But that is neither here nor there. Since it was going on and I am desperately trying to decorate my apartment, Bat and I went to check out Antique Ally. Let's just say it didn't blow my skirt up. It was pretty much just a massive flea market in town and along the sides of the road. We didn't see much in the way of antiques and the furniture that I saw and liked was overpriced. So yeah, it was meh.

Except... on the way to town, we saw, off to the left side of the road, a person selling chickens. Obviously we stopped on the way back to the house and so now the chicken tractor that was built two weeks ago is full.


We don't know what kind they are but they are neat. All hens but some blonds and brunettes and colorful ones and some have green legs, blue legs, and bright yellow legs. I haven't really given a lot of thought to chicken legs in my lifetime, but I never would have thought they would be blue or green. 

Some of you might know this and some of you might not; chickens can be assholes. We bought a total of ten and nine of them picked on one so the Bat's mom separated her out. Originally, Lonesome Lois was kept in a small cage until we could throw together a second, smaller coop. But when Bat's mom went to give her food, Lois noped the fuck out. Here she is, strutting around and showing off her freedom.
That is Mia, a gaited horse, in the background.

I like to think that, as Lois strutted in front of the tractor, the following conversation took place.

"Damn it, Mary! I told you we should have been nice to Lois! She could have taught us ALL how to escape!" 

"Shut up, Linda."

Lois is still on the property, or rather, was as of Sunday. She roosts in a tree and I guess that is where she's going to chill for awhile. Once the others understand that their coop is home, they will be free range during the day. 

No, I get it. I'm just as surprised by what I talk about these days as the next girl. Chickens, really? Talking about chickens is something I never thought I'd really do, any more than I'd talk about how proud I am of Monkey, someone's 16 year old daughter, for getting her first real job. And I am proud of her, and super excited because that boy finally asked her to Home Coming already. Jeez, took him long enough (but he did make a cute sign with lollipops to use to ask her and he sounds like a good kid).

But I digress from more important matters. I don't recall if I've shown pictures of the pigs on here or not but every time I look at Lullabelle, the bigger one, I think "she looks like something from The Labyrinth. Do you remember that movie?  How silly of me, of course you do because you have to be somewhere around my age and how could you not remember that movie? Anyhow, tell me if I'm wrong or wouldn't she have been a great edition to that film? 
I'm a giant pig

I have a shot of her from the front but her eyes look really gross in it and I just couldn't bring myself to post it. 

That's all I have and I don't know how to close this post out so I'll do it with elegance and class, which is best depicted by two grasshoppers humping on a paint can. 
Yes, I took a picture of grasshoppers doing it.

Thursday, September 17, 2015

A Conversation I Just Had

I really need to remember that people are not in my head and/or do not necessarily know what my mood and/or intentions are. I had the following exchanged, via Facebook Messenger, with the Bat just now.

ME: "When did I stay over, Sunday or Monday?"
BAT: "Monday."
ME: "That's right."
BAT: "That's when my back went to shit."
ME: "Ah, yes, I remember."
BAT: "That's an odd question."
ME: "I figured it out almost right after I messaged you."
BAT: GIF of a guy saying "I'm confused."
ME: "I just feel like I haven't seen you in a long time and wondered when I last had had."
BAT: Thumbs up picture.

ME: "Do you love me?"
BAT: "Yes.
BAT: "Why the random questions today?"
ME: "I'm in a silly mood and my work is allllll data entry."
BAT: "Ah."
ME: "I shall stop with the questions though. They do read like I'm building up to something now that I think about it."
BAT: "Yeah."

Everything I said was true. I was just curious as to when I'd last seen him because it does feel like a strangely long time. And I am just in a silly mood with a lot of data entry in front of me. I mean, yeah, I like to be reminded that he loves me, but that was all. I really should be more careful so as not to scare a guy.

I wonder what he thought I was leading up to. 

An Open Letter to My Cat

Dear Bubbles,

You've been with me for two years and I still have no fucking clue what is going on with you. Sure, you're cute and adorable and fun to pet, but what the fuck is going on inside that little cat noggin of yours?

I know you aren't the scary badass I feared. You don't know this but I was afraid to bring you down to the country for fear you'd fuck up Monkey's kitten or the Bat's parents' cat. You look mean and I don't feel like I know you well so I was scared of you. Well, just look at you when you strike one of your dignified, Vladimir Putin poses.

Pretty regal and serious looking, right? But after seeing you punch Monkey's kitten, who then just jumped right back up to play more, and seeing what you looked like after the Bat's parents' cat handed you your ass, I realized I was being unfair. You are a big ball of sweetheart who just doesn't want other animals bothering her. Sorry about that, babes. I shouldn't have judged you so harshly.

But what the fuck is with this neediness and diva behavior? I can't shut the door if I go to the bathroom without anyone else in the apartment without you putting your paw under the door and meowing. You lay outside the bathroom and stare at me if I take a bath. If I sit at my computer, you frequently come up to paw at me to pet you. Bitch, you even take my chair if I get up now and today? Today you jumped on my desk and onto my damned laptop.

I give you attention! I pet you and talk to you and will purposely lay on my love seat when I read so I can pet you some more. I pat my bed for you to come up when I go to sleep. I fucking ordered 25 cans of Fish and Shrimp Fancy Feast from Amazon because you like it. Or you did. What's this shit with you not eating it all of a sudden? It is the only thing you would eat once I switched your fat ass to can food and now you turn your nose up to it? Well, looks like you are in for a lean couple of weeks because I'm not going to the store to get you cans of the same goddamn thing just because it doesn't smell like it came in the mail or whatever.

You wouldn't even eat tuna fish!

I don't speak cat, OK? I don't know what is going on. A friend at work says that you just love me and want my attention and that you may still be stressed out from your fight/attack. I'll get you one of those pheromone things on Friday when I get paid again and I'll keep petting you. But you need to meet me half way here. Either eat your fucking food as a compromise, or learn to speak human or manipulate a writing utensil and tell me exactly what you want. The more anxious I get about you the more I begin to wonder if I should give you up because I clearly cannot care for you very well. I hate your bald spots from that fucking asshole cat. I'm not taking you to the farm ever again. I'm not going to Rowlett very often any more just so I can stay home and be with you. I'm doing my best and you just refuse to work with me.

I'm going to have to take you to the vet, you know, to find out what the hell is going on and to make sure you are OK. This neediness and all up in my business ALL the time shit needs to stop. I love you, but you are driving me up the fucking wall.

You don't even care, do you?