Ticket, tickets, get your tickets.....

My hubby and I have our individual responsibilities concerning the household chores. It isn't very difficult. I scrub toilets and he cuts the grass. I could cut the grass, but I refuse to because I scrub toilets. And our lawnmower is semi-broken and the self propelled wheels aren't working, it's August, my front yard is a big hill and I scrub toilets.
Now that being said, this weekend he did not cut the grass. This wasn't that big of a deal because my neighbors were also slacking, but yesterday they cut theirs. Thus making us "that house."
I don't like being "that house."
I got up this morning, and sent the boy off to school. As I looked out the front window to watch him walk to the bus stop, I was pleasantly reminded that I am currently growing my own little Amazon jungle.
Seriously.
The only thing we are lacking is a waterfall and monkeys. I could sell tickets to the neighborhood kids for $5.00 to tour my front yard. Hell, I am scared to let my dogs out because they might get lost. And then I might get lost while looking for them and I'm not sure if there are any well trained, professional search and rescue teams in my small little town to come and find me.
And then there wouldn't be anyone to scrub toilets.
Hubby says he will cut the grass today. We'll see. Somehow I have this crazy feeling that he is going to conveniently have a "late day" at work, thus not come home until dark. I'll give him the benefit of the dought. There is a small chance he will come home and deforest the front yard and I will no longer have to be "that house."
Thank God my neighborhood doesn't have a homeowners association or we would get the boot. Though I bet my neighbors are wishing for one right now.
It will get done. Just not by me. It's not my job. I scrub toilets.


Until next time,
KD

My Darling O'Riley

To my darling dog, O'Riley:

I knew you wanted a bath yesterday when you were sitting in the tub staring at me with that WTF look. I'm sorry I had to go to work, and today I just didn't think about it. However, going outside and rolling in the grass over a dead, half decayed cat over and over and over again is completely unacceptable!
Yes, you got your damn bath, you mangy mutt, but there better ways to go about getting what you want.

Even better, my hubby has informed me that I am officially crazy because I have now taken up writing letters to the dog.

*sigh*

It is what it is.

Motivational Issues

So the original plan for the day was to be as unproductive as humanly possible. I told myself that I would simply ignore the stuff around my house, do nothing, let my husband work all day and somehow con him in to making dinner when he got home. This works well on spaghetti night, because I just can't make it as good as he does.
As the hours drag by, I have come to the decision that this may not work out after all.

My to do list while not doing the thousands of other things that I am supposed to be doing:

Laundry-
Damn, never-ending, wrinkled, spontaneously appears, laundry. I wouldn't be surprised if air traffic control rerouted airplanes around my house due to my 10,000 ft. high pile of laundry.
I loathe laundry....
It taunts me, just lying there on my floor, staring out me, secretly laughing because it knows when I do fold it, I will later find more in a random corner, the bathroom, behind the T.V., or my husband will decide to clean out his car. His car alone usually yields a good five work shirts, shorts from three summers ago, shoes that don't match, winter hats that are magically dirty even though they are still in box from last Christmas, bathing suits, with a few other unidentifiable objects. J's are the best with the McDonald's french fries, rocks, and change still in the pockets. There are only three people in this house, and I wear PJ's on my day's off.... How in the hell does this happen?

Dishes:
I have a little more success in this department. Currently, I have a pile in the sink and an empty dishwasher. Sad, isn't it? I could get up right now and I would no longer have to stare at it and wonder what I'm growing in there.

I'm gonna do it.

Today.

At some point.

I'm just scared to leave my room because I may find more laundry...

Call the school:
This is always fun. There is nothing better than spending thirty-five minutes on the phone, 34 min. of it on hold, only to have a pointless conversation with someone who doesn't know what they are talking about, only requiring that I be transferred to another person who also doesn't know what they are talking about. It becomes an endless, vigorous, cycle of conversation, at which my question is usually only partially answered. Thus forcing me to scream at the top of lungs while the neighbors gather outside in street wondering what's going on in here. Honestly, I think I would rather have my toes chopped off one by one, or stick my head in an oven. But these things must be done.....

I just hope I don't find anymore laundry on my way to the phone.

Just a hole!

We just got the phone call from our mechanic about my hubby's POS car...

First I would like to say "Thank You" to the Car Gods' for finally allowing us an easy, inexpensive car repair. Thank you for lessoning your wrath and allowing it to only be a hose replacement. As I know it could have been much worse. In all fairness, Car Gods', you have royally screwed me the last two times you unleashed your fury upon me, costing me massive amounts of money that wasn't in my budget. I think you owed me this small repair. I have paid my dues for what ever it was I did to piss you off in the first place.
I should also credit you for teaching me to lower my standards. Thanks to you, Car God's, and your evilness, my way of thinking has changed. The normal person would have pissed that the car broke in the first place, as I was, but I went to the fridge and ingested massive amounts of beer to lessen my worries. Then the normal person would have also been pissed off at the fact that they had to even buy a hose or pay for repairs at all. But not me. I'm happy to fix a hose. I'll fix hoses any day of the week, I can handle that. I just have one small request: Please keep the engines, head gaskets, tranmissions and anything else that costs $1000.00 to fix in tact until I finish nursing school.
I'm not ready to buy a new car just yet. Amen.

Eternally grateful forever and ever and ever,

KD

Hail Zanthia

Went to a friend's house to watch the UFC fight last night. J, as usual, took another opportunity to embarrass the hubby and I. We are in the living room, there are about 15 people there, and we only knew about two of them. J was playing with little girls in the front yard, the usual stuff, drop kicks on each other, tackle hide-n-go-seek, tackle tag, let's see who survives...So a little girl gets tired and comes in to sit down and have a sip of water. The front door flings open, and here comes J, propelling himself across room at 150 mph. hat on backwards, no shirt on, half out of breath... My usually well spoken , polite 7 yr. old child to little girl: "You comin' back out or you pu*s**g out on me?" Hubby and I immediately look at each other. No way did our child just say what we think he said...So hubby asks him to repeat at which he promptly does. Suddenly, I am blinded by crimson, my cheeks are burning, enough smoke comes out of my ears to set off the smoke detectors and my overwhelmed brain goes into temporary shut down mode. I am snapped back into reality when the entire room busted out laughing, thus momentarily making J think he was funny. During our talk with him on appropriate words and such, we learned that he had learned it from TV and honestly didn't know it was bad. Hubby and I wonder just how many other times J has been asking other children if they are pu*s**g out him in the past mo. before he was caught. In the neighborhood, in the second grade classroom, on the bus, church? Just wonderful. Until next time, KD

It's the little things that matter most

I felt I had to share this others. Though I don't yet have any readers, when I do get some, I hope they may appreciate this as much as I did!
Apparently, in the midst of our economic crisis: Cuba is running out of TP

Click here

That's right folks, if traveling to Cuba in the near future there is no guarantee that you will be able to wipe your ass. I would suggest partaking in a botany class to familiarize yourself with basic plant knowledge. This way you will have the upper hand in the woods when attempting to wipe. Tragically, if you get the wrong leaf, your ass will hate you for it.

Until next time,
KD

Designed by Goliath

So a bar regular pointed out a panic button today that I hadn't ever noticed before. I was aware of the one in the back of the restaurant but not this one. I argued w/ my regular that it wasn't a button but maybe a sensor for the security system? Like I know these things...I just work there....I was sure I was right because it was so high up one would most def. get shot if attempting to push it.

Me to my manager P: Hey P, what's that?

P: Panic button. Don't touch it! *He knows me well...*

Me: Couldn't even if I wanted to. Must have missed the wall scaling course that is required to reach that.

My regular and I came to the decision that we seriously hope I am never in a situation where this is needed, or I'm screwed (only 5'4). It would take two chairs, three bar stools, and Inspector Gadgets go-go arm just to reach it. Hell, maybe I'll just ask our robber for a little assistance...could he please not shoot me, but rather stand on a stool while picking me up so I might hit the panic button? Maybe if I was lucky it would be a "really tall" crook so that we, together, would be tall enough. Assuming he didn't shoot me first...Maybe I am supposed to have superconscious telepathic abilities to push buttons with only my sheer will?

Until next time....
KD