Well, I'm having an interesting day so far....

Predicated, of course, by the fact that I is a dipshit....I sent an email that was what I thought was an answer to Jane from Burnt Fuse to Donna from Antisocial Bitch. It was about that blog I found yesterday. I wasn't too alert or coffeed up when I wrote back, ya see. I just went to Yahoo mail, clicked on the email, totally didn't notice who it was from and answered Jane when it was Donna who wrote. (Where's my helmet? Yay!!!) (And, Dan...I did yours right, right?)

Most of it was do-able anyway, except the birthday part...(Jane's b-day is the same as mine and Donna's is 10 days before me). That wasn't as bad, however, as my last paragraph, where I referred to Jane's 'weatherman/elephant foot/bathroom wank puller upstairs neighbor'...I'm surprised Donna didn't call the guys with the white jackets and nets after that part...lmao.

Gawd.

I also heard from Paul and my Dad. I asked them, too, to go look at that blog and let me know if it's me or...what. They both are fully aware of my status as an 'animal whack-job' (and I admitted as much to Dan, too, when I asked him to check it out and let me know what he thinks). Paul had to go to work (YAY!!!) and he said he'll check it out when he gets home and let me know. He thinks it may be mostly cultural differences and my near-psychosis about critters, but...we'll see.

So...to be fair and all and to not be an overly reactionary twit like last time, I've asked a few people to go look and see what they see. Donna said she was gonna go look, too. And, Jane Sweetie...if you want, I can still send that email I thought was to you in the first place....*turning beet red again and giggling*

In other news.....My third and final (I HOPE!!!) cat had her kid yesterday. Just one, again. So far. She could pull a 'Lamar' on me and have another one today, I suppose, but there's only one now. Well, there's a total of 14, buuuut.....

Oh, I forgot to tell Dad that I've managed to make him into a GreatGrandfather without ever having been pregnant. After 5 days of hearing Tiger (the littlest kid) calling Eric "Peepaw", I decided that if HE has to be a Grandfather, Dad ought to 'get' to be GreatPeepaw. And, the cat had a baby, thereby making Dad a Grandpop again anyway.

Next item....Tequila Rose is a great antidote to PMS. And...it'll work for the innocent victims of PMS as well as the slave of it. If the one having PMS doesn't want any, the people dealing with it can use it. Works either way.

What else? Hmmmm....well, my dishes don't seem to be washing themselves and not one of the furry little shits around here (or the animals) seems to be the least inclined to bust some suds, so I guess it's up to me...as ususal.
Siiiigh.
(Not really 'sigh'...I'm actually laughing almost too hard to type...)

So...the 'plan' is this: Wash the dishes, straighten up the rest, get on the horse, find out whether I'm the nut or that other chick is. Basically, anyway.

Oh...here's something. If anyone can explain this to me, I'd be most grateful. I made spaghetti a coupla days ago. I put it in this huge container with a lid and stuck it in the frig. I went to get some last night and when I picked up that big ol' container, I nearly threw it back over my head, it was so light. I opened it and found only three meatballs with not one strand of spaghetti therein. Now...a GUY did that. It wasn't me. What the HAIL is that about? Whom (Eric) would want gaspetti without the last three meatballs (Eric) and why (Eric) would ya 'store' three little meatballs in a container big enough to hold a ham?
Honestly...*shaking head and muttering "men" to self*

Is it any wonder I'm nuckin' futz?

"They wanna ask me, Hank, why do ya drink?
Why do you roll smoke?"

Why do ya think?
Jeez.

Peace, y'all...

Update @ 5:17pm.....
Never assume. Even if yer Sweetie has this weird egg-phobia where he doesn't like eggs added to hamburger, as in meatloaf or meat balls (even though, for some friggin' reason PICKLED eggs are all good...ugh)...never assume.
IT WAS GEORGE who left the three meatballs in the el-huge-o container, not Eric. He just admitted it. AND...since I publicly 'noogied' Eric about it, I'm also publicly retracting that. Sorry, Darlin'!!!
I'd still like to know what's up widdat, though. I mean, just cause it wasn't Eric this time, doesn't mean he doesn't do it, too. He does. He'll put containers of various liquids (milk, o.j.) back in the frig with less than a quarter inch of shit left in 'em. And sodas? Please. We keep them FOREVER with just the little pointy things on the bottom of the bottles holding any soda. What? Ya just TOO FULL to down that last lil bit? Sheesh.
The only reason it really bugs me is because I sometimes miss restocking shit because I don't know we're out of it...whatever 'it' is.
Why do they do this? Anyone? Beuller?

Posted by: Stevie at 02:43 PM

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Posted by: Surfie at April 16, 2004 07:00 PM (kLdoU)

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