My Insane Sunday

Story 1:

This is why owning weird pets is horrifying when your husband is out of town. So we have Pokey the Hedgehog, otherwise known as Monster. Monster gets live superworms everyday, which is revolting enough. But every time I open the lid to where we keep the worms, just like I did a few minutes ago to give them food so that they stay healthy and pass along those healthy vitamins to Pokey, the condensation from worm goo always splashes on to me.

There is no amount of bleach or lye in the world that can ever make me feel clean again after having worm juice splatter all over me. And I’m not particularly squeamish about things, but worm juice? It landed on my arm, my hand, MY CHEEK!!!! Good Lord. My cheek. I can probably cut off the arm and manage a fairly reasonable life, but I can’t cut off my face! What’s a girl to do?

Well, I’m going to go vomit now. Kidding, but that’s how grossed out I am. Those worms will be lucky if they get this food ever again until the hubby gets home. ICK!

Of course, we all know that deep down I’m a big softy, so I will give them more food. But I will want to puke the whole time.

Story 2:

You might think that being splashed with worm juice would be the hardest part of my day today. That would be inaccurate.

I’m trying to make the house somewhat less disgusting because my darling friend Brenda (literally known her since we were 1 and 2 years old) will be in town and I don’t want her to vomit when she walks in my house because I have not really been able to do any cleaning for the last nine months and she is very neat. She even vacuums when we are on vacation–God bless her.

So I very stupidly, very very stupidly, sit on the floor to try and reupholster a sofa cushion which is about the size and weight of a queen-sized mattress.  Keep in mind, I haven’t done more than walk to the bathroom for the last 9 months, but I’m determined to have a decent looking house when she visits. So, there I am… using those upholstery twisty things trying to clamp this king-sized blanket on to this enormous sofa cushion which weighs more than a car. I’m huffing and I’m puffing and I’m exhausted by the time I’m done. And then I realize I can’t get off the fucking floor.

I’m still in my boot after surgery on my foot, so that entire leg is essentially useless because I can’t get it underneath myself or put full weight on it. And while my arm that was broken is mostly better, it still can’t take any real weight.

So I have only a right foot, a right arm and I’m trying to get my wider-than-usual ass up off the floor. I tried everything. I tried rolling around. I tried getting on my knees. You would think I’d be a pro at that by now, but it did not help in this particular case. 😉 I tried rocking back and forth to build up some momentum. I rolled onto the sofa cushion figuring that would give me an extra 4 inches of lift. Fail. Fail. Fail. Fail.

It was only through the grace of God, who I’m quite sure was laughing hysterically at me, and some magical hand reaching into my dining room and pulling my ass up off the floor that I’m not still sitting there. I should have taken a video of it. It was the most ridiculous 20 minutes of my life! And, of course the phone was no where near me so I couldn’t call someone to come lift my ass up off the floor!

Anyway, I finally manage to get up off the floor, and then I had to move that heavy motherfucking cushion from the dining room onto the sofa in the family room and by the time I got it on there I realized that I’m never moving again for the rest of the day. If I have to use the bathroom I’m just going to pee on the sofa.

Conclusion:

That was my Sunday. WTF was I thinking? Have I lost my mind? I need to just stay on the sofa, not move and say fuck it to anything that’s still messy. That’s my vow and I’m sticking to it!

Love you guys!!! 🙂 XOXO

 

Double-dropped Kitchen Floor Ice Cream

I still believe that icecream should be one word. WHY ISN’T IT ONE WORD??? It doesn’t make any sense. Iceberg is one word. So is Iceland. What about iceman? Even iceweasel is one word–though I have no flippin’ idea what it means.

Anyway, I digress!

You guys know I love chocolate.

If I could eat it all day, every day without dying of malnutrition, I’d do so. To hell with being able to fit into a car. Chocolate rules!

So, in an effort to eat food that is as healthy and non-processed as possible (meaning if it contains plastic, shit I cannot pronounce, or metal shavings, I’m trying to shy away from it), I thought that what I’d do is when I’m dying for some chocolate I’d just eat one spoonful of my favorite chocolate iceCREAM (dammit!) on earth: Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk. Just the name of it makes me a bit randy! And it contains ingredients that don’t tongue tie me.

Believe it or not I’m perfectly capable (though it takes ALL my strength) of eating only one bite per day. It sates my chocolate craving and is only about 25 calories for a small bite.

About a week ago I realized that my month-old pint of B&J is down to the last bite. Yes! It lasted a whole month. I am quite proud of myself.

I was so excited about getting that last delicious morsel of orgasmic chocolate heaven into my gaping maw that I attacked the pint with a ferocity typically known only to mother lions protecting their cubs.

Alas, that damn stuff was so frozen that it was not very accepting of my spoon. It bent the damn thing in half. (I know I’m not the only person with like 10 oddly bent spoons in their silverware drawer from where hard iceCREAM bent it and you had to try and mush it back into shape with only moderate success.)

Dang bendy spoons!

Dang bendy spoons!

So, back to the inaccessible B&J: GAME ON BITCH! I was gonna get that chocolate onto my spoon come hell or high water. PMS waits for NO frozen iceCREAM.

Finally, after digging at it and prying it away from the edge of the pint, I get some success. The spoon is in and the iceCREAM is slightly mobile, if not still a wee bit stuck.

With one final YANK I free the chocolate bliss from its wretched home and watch it go sailing through the air to land with an unceremonious splat on my kitchen floor.

Fuck!

Now, I don’t know about you, but my kitchen floor isn’t…well…clean.

As I refuse to clean anything in the kitchen and it all falls to the hubby, I can’t complain if the kitchen floor is gross. If I’m not willing to clean it, I also can’t bitch if it’s not clean.

I look lovingly upon my iceCREAM splat and say, “5 second rule!” I’m eating it and I don’t care.

I pick it up off the floor, analyze the 8 cat hairs and various other ickies now attached to it and decide that it’s worth the risk.

I remove all of the extra floor sprinkles now added to my piece of chocolate heaven and go to put it into my mouth.

Alas, my fingers are warm and with all the picking off of the ickies the iceCREAM has slightly melted and whoops! Through my fingers it falls again onto the floor.

DOUBLE FUCK-A-DOODLE-DO!

But, eh, to hell with it. I cleaned it once, I can clean it again.

Now I’m back to removing cat hair and other Typhoid-carrying elements from my manna from Heaven. Finally, it looks clean enough to eat (well, sorta) and I pop that bite ‘o yumminess into my waiting mouth.

Mmmmmm…chocolate…mmmmmm…in love with Ben & Jerry. Wanna marry them…mmmmm… WHAT THE FUCK? Yep, there was a “what the fuck” moment while luxuriating in the chocolate bliss that is New York Super Fudge Chunk. I guess my iceCREAM picked up a hitchhiking pepper seed that had fallen to the floor a few days ago when the hubby was cooking Thai food.

Not sure how much you know about Thai peppers, but to say they are hot is like saying that Megan Fox or Chris Hemsworth (Thor) are just kinda okay looking–a tremendous understatement.

FIRE dammit! My mouth is on FIRE!

Yes, the iceCREAM did help it a bit as the cold helped numb my poor tongue. But whatever kind of pepper seed attached itself to my hunk ‘o hunk of burning dessert was bound and determined to survive.

My damn mouth burned for over a full day. Son of a bitch! Dumb floor. Dumb extra-frozen iceCREAM. Dumb pepper seed.

What…no “Dumb Jodi” in that list? Yeah, I should have been at the top of it! Single-dropped iceCREAM is bad enough. Double-dropped? I should have taken the second drop as a sign from God to just slowly back away from the chocolate. But since I don’t listen to anyone, including my own common sense, I had burny-tongue as my lesson of the day.

Well, actually, I didn’t learn any lesson. I’d still eat double-dropped iceCREAM if it was the last bite in the pint. I’m horrifyingly gross and I’m okay with it! 🙂

XOXOXO

I have officially seen it all. Good grief.

Okay, so those of you who know me know that as far a I’m concerned, women never have to “use the bathroom” for anything besides powdering their noses.

I don’t like bathroom talk.

If I could, I’d pretend bathrooms don’t exist.

I don’t wanna know what goes on it one, why I shouldn’t “go in there for 20 minutes” or anything else related to bathroom things. It’s just gross.

Otters

In Heaven I WILL ROLL AROUND WITH OTTERS!!!

You guys have heard me before say that my idea of heaven is that when I die God will let me play with a truckload of non-pooping otters. It’s not heaven if they poop on you.puking dog

So, needless to say when I saw the latest Cottonelle ad I almost threw up in my mouth, out of my mouth, on to the cats and all over the floor.

Seriously, don’t we all know the purpose of toilet paper?

I kinda wanna kill her. ;)

I kinda wanna kill her. 😉

Do we really need a commercial where a girl in white pants, who has clearly snorted too much blow, asks a man if he thinks this new TP  is so good that he can go commando? (Cause there are just so many new fangled things one can do to TP to make it tons better—ugh, idiots.) And I love that they picked someone with a delightfully cheery British accent…does that somehow make it more proper to discuss your bowels and what they do?? Good Lord…

Anyway, apparently, rippled TP is the first and only difference between having a poopy butt and not having one. Does this mean we’ve all walked around nasty our entire lives until this particular TP? Yay! Saved by new TP! Now I can have a friend or two because I’m not basking in my own glorious filth all day, every day.

While I am loathe to give this gross and disgusting company any publicity, click on Miss Poo’s jolly face to watch the revolting video where, when you get down to it, she’s asking strangers, “Can you wipe your ass well enough to not get filth all over the inside of your pants?” I mean, c’mon people? Really? Is NOTHING SACRED ANYMORE!!!???? Must we talk about mookie stinks making a permanent home on your panties in such graphic and disgusting detail on television???

So, here’s what I vote for.

Below is the kind of TP ad I wanna see (though I’d rather see none at all!).

The TV screen would be all white with a still shot of a roll of pristine TP (and maybe an otter or two) and it would have a voiceover that read:

Hi.

This TP is not made of razor blades.

This TP will not cause you to bleed, get herpes or go insane.

Use it like you’ve been using TP for decades and it’ll do about the same thing that all others do.

Oh, it’s a little softer, if you like that kind of thing.

Now, go back to your happy life and forget I’ve just spent 15 seconds talking about your ass and its relationship with TP.

Thank you and good night.

That’s all I need to know, dammit!

I need nothing more than that and I’m good.

So can we please just say no to these kinds of ads?

Plus, I’m a Charmin girl anyway.

I had an 11th grade student of mine 100 years ago when I taught high school write a poem about me and my butt being squeezable like Charmin*. Lordy, those kids were wonderfully inappropriate. Anyway, I’ve been a Charmin girl ever since cause it still makes me giggle.

Okay, no more butt talk. I’m out.

*Click here to hear Mr. Whipple yet at women for squeezing the Charmin. 😉

I’ve turned into Martha Stewart! Someone save me from myself!!! ;)

Who on God’s green earth ever thought that I would be Jodi the Happy Homemaker?! 😉

You guys know I run from all things domestic. Really, it’s the only time I run. I prefer to sit. Wasn’t it Winston Churchill who said,

“Never stand up when you can sit down, and never sit down when you can lie down.”

I say, “Preach on, brother!”

Alas, I have a cute little way to dress up, of all things, your toilet.

Yep, I said toilet.

Martha Stewart and Hints from Heloise move over!

So, you know those little caps that cover the screws that hold your toilet in place? Half the time they are just gross. Eww!!! The other half of the time they have been lost–like those damnable missing socks that the dryer eats.

Where the hell do they go? It makes no sense. It’s not like someone would steal your toilet screw covers. Well, maybe they would. Maybe they lost theirs so they then stole yours. Hmmm…makes one think. 😉

Anyway, I have the cutest solution ever.

And while it seems like a non sequitur, but isn’t, I always have a million salt and pepper shakers. When I have folks over for dinner I like everyone to have their own cute little set. I have birdies, froggies, squirrelies, turtles (no way to really add “ies” to the word turtle).

Well, I recently discovered that I have more salt and pepper shakers than I ever do have dinner guests.

About 2 minutes after making that discovery I walked into my bathroom and saw those ugly, uncovered screws and voila! An idea was born!

Here’s my solution to ugly toilet screws:

Toilet Birdie Decor 1 Toilet Birdie Decor 2

Ta dah!

Isn’t that adorable? Okay, maybe more goofy than adorable, but still–it looks a hell of a lot better than a nasty old rusty screw. 🙂

If you live anywhere near a Cracker Barrel restaurant, that’s where I get all my salt and pepper shakers. They are only a dollar and if you just take the little rubber thing out that holds in the salt/pepper, you can stick the cute little guy on the screw and have a happy toilet!

Okay, that’s all the domesticity I’m gonna have for a while.

If you do this, send me pics! I wanna see other people’s toilet decor!

🙂

 

 

THE CARNAGE! My house is an abattoir!

I’m pretty sure I’m gonna puke!

Ewwwww!!!!

So here’s my little tale.

Now that the house is finally coming together, the hubby and I occasionally have some friends over. They’d just gotten in the door and were standing in the living room when they noticed my Christmas window gels still up in the window. Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s July and I still have some Christmas stuff up. I’m a maniac! 😉

Anyway, the gels are these gummy-like decals you stick to the window. They feel like a wet, smushed, slightly melted gummy bear, but they stick great and last a long time. Well, until the evil summer heat of Arizona gets at ’em.

The snowman couple on the right had held up pretty well, but the cute little penguins on the left had met a rather unfortunate, melty fate. It was actually kinda gross looking. Like the face melting scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

We were all standing about 10 feet away and commenting on the sorry state of my little gel friends and their accompanying snowflakes when I noticed that some of the snowflakes had turned black.

My first thought was, “Wow, that’s probably unhealthy. If the sun baked what used to be white, lavender and baby blue snowflakes into black, crusty nightmares then the fumes it put off while cooking can’t have been healthy to breathe.”

So I walked over to them to scrape them off the window and much to my horror…NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! The carnage! Death abounded! The slow, painful murder of dozens of small critters faced me in my once-loved gummy snowflakes.

Look below at your own risk!

 

 

OH THE CARNAGE!

 

Here it is a little closer up if ya really wanna see mass death!

Fly Death!

Holy fuck that is nasty!

I had NO idea I was murdering flies in such a gruesome way!

And the poor little buggers were left on display and I didn’t even notice. They had a public burial. Total ewww!!

So yeah, I screamed. Then said to the hubby, “Can you please remove the hideous death trap that our sweet Christmas decorations have become?”

I don’t know what they make the gummy decals with (crack? meth? chocolate?) that would be so alluring to flies. Especially since the snowmen were of absolutely no interest to them at all. Completely bizarre.

When I went to look at the snowmen the other day (which are still there to this day…yeah, again…I know…) I noticed a leftover fly leg stuck to the window. Poor little critters. I may not like flies, but nothing deserves to be cooked at 150 degrees while stuck in goo on an Arizona window.

Well, there you have it. I’m now officially horrified. I’m a murderer, pure and simple. Off with my head! 😉