Pocketful of Meat

Here is a prime example of just how fucking demented I can be while out in public alone:

The other day I went to the deli to buy cold cuts.

You know how some deli workers will present you with a sample of your order and ask if it’s sliced to the thickness of your liking?

Turns out if you plan on ordering a variety of different items and the deli worker offers you a slice of each and you also end up asking him to slice a few items thinner than he first presented you with, and he hands over that sample to you as well, you will end up with a giant mound of meats and cheeses in your hand that you can either jam into your mouth despite having had your fill 2 slices ago and potentially choke on or you can literally sweat it out in your palm…

After gratefully devouring a slice of swiss cheese, roasted chicken, oven gold turkey and a too thick slice of provolone offered, I found myself accumulating more meat than I’ve ever wanted in my hand at one time.

It’s at this point that I began to panic.

I couldn’t find a napkin to stuff all the extraneous meat stuffs into and there wasn’t a trashcan in sight. There was no chance I was going to tell the kind and generous delicatessen worker to take back the slices he had previously offered and dispose of them for me.

And although I’m pretty sure he should have known to cut me off after the 4th or 5th slice, the ball was nonetheless in my court and I did nothing to dissuade him from keepin’ that ol’ meat train a-comin’…

So, I did what any truly brilliant/desperate/cold cut-crazy person in my position would do when faced with the dilemma of man-handling more than one can manage:

I folded up the second slice of provolone, a slice of honey maple ham and a slice of salami (why am i buying this much meat in the first place?) into a misshapen triangle of delicatessen freebies and jammed them into my jacket pocket.

When I got back home I removed the wad from my pocket and threw it to the woods in the hope that a baby deer or a scrawny fox might sniff them out for a late lunch but it failed to change the fact that I managed to walk out of a busy, local establishment with a quarter pound of balled up meat and cheese in my pocket instead of just telling the guy behind the counter: NO.

I believe the truth behind all this madness is simply that, if given the choice, I will almost exclusively choose the more embarrassing option.

*****

It has also come to my attention that I take 18,000 years to complete any one project. I’ve been “trying” to cook lately. It has (surprisingly) been mostly successful. That is to say that the tacos and tater-tot casseroles that I’ve spent far too much time on made have been downright masterful…or something.

I baked cupcakes tonight. From scratch. This was, by and large, a daunting task and one I’ve never even come close to attempting on my own before. Before tonight I wasn’t even sure I knew how to whisk things correctly. After tonight, I’m confident that I don’t.

I only managed to lose control of the whisk and fling melted butter and egg on myself and the side of the mixer once but it also took me almost 15 minutes to set up the mixer in the first place so maybe I shouldn’t be so proud so soon…

Also…

It took me, from first mix to final icing, over 4 hours to complete 12 cupcakes. I think the people on Cupcake Wars have 2 hours to make a thousand so I guess that kills any thought of my going into the competitive baking arena anytime soon.

The point is: cupcakes were made and it was an adventure.

A long, exhausting adventure full of expletives muttered at myself and a plethora of inanimate objects mostly labeled “Kitchen Aid”. An adventure that has now led me towards the greater pursuit and fervent study of whether or not Shiraz is considered a “dessert wine” and if I eat all 12 cupcakes is it OK to wash them down with an entire bottle?

An Outside Opinion

the bee: I think you need to get out of the house more. It’s good for you. On the inside and out.

me: (peeks face out from behind open refrigerator door) I get out of the house (SNAP! *crunch*crunch*crunch*) …sometimes.

b: I mean somewhere besides the supermarket or the library.

m: (half-chewed orange substance sprays from mouth and freckles fridge door handle and shirtsleeve) Ai THIK yer fergaeg…

b: No…

Going to the drive-thru at the bank doesn’t count as “getting out”. Not really, anyway.

m: (uses open fridge door as make-shift ballet barre; *plié* *ronds de jambe* *plié* *relevé* *plié* *ronds de jambe* *plié* *développé* !!!)

I was going to say “the mayonnaise”. You’re forgetting the amount of mayonnaise that we consume in this house. I don’t think it’s fair to discredit my trips to the supermarket. I need to restock, like, bi-monthly.

If bi-monthly means what I think it means, which is to say I don’t know what it means and ANYWAY, where else am I SUPPOSED to go? (SNAP! *crunch*crunch*crunch*)

b: I dunno… ANYWHERE. Just go for a drive, get lost, have adventures, have FUN!

m: Do you have any idea how depressing that sounds? (waves a baby carrot in the air to emphasize the enormity of the issue) Who the hell wants to be out in public ALONE? It’s humiliating. The last time you told me I should go to the park because it was a beautiful day I did and it was a complete disaster. (SNAP! CRUNCH.)

b: Don’t you think calling it a “disaster” is a bit dramatic?

m: Ummm, NO… (baby carrot now inches from the nose of the offending conversationalist; half-chewed orange substance airborne and within range to fleck the shirtsleeves of others)

…I peeled off my cinch waisted pants and forced my hair into something resembling a trampled beaver’s den, though a thoughtfully maintained one, all so I could end up sweaty and looking pathetic while trying to find someplace isolated to sit and read my book.

Being amongst all those smiley, happy couples and families was honestly the most alone I’ve ever felt…

(dispiritedly grande pliés into the cold embrace of the refrigerator; crumples on the floor nestled between the ketchup and cold cuts where her mind transports us through a vast and trippy memory telescope/photo album type-thingy into… the recent past)

*****

I wandered aimlessly…

I took some pictures…

Lonely, DEPRESSING pictures…

I encountered 2 girls with a dog who happened to be hanging out in a shady place by the path I was on and I was pretty sure they were staring at me and laughing so I took this picture, which isn’t really of anything but it saved me from having to look them in the eyes while being publicly ridiculed…

Then I ended up getting kind of lost…

Honestly though, this rendezvous with desolation was the most welcoming moment the afternoon had offered so far…

So I decided to take a load off and just relax. I started messing with the camera to see if I could remember how to use all the different functions.

I couldn’t…

So I took a few not so great pictures…

Until…

Ahhh… That’s better…

I found some red in a tangle of green and brown…

A weeping, gnarled monster reaching skyward from its grave….

And not far from there, finally, a nice comfortable place to sit and read my book…

*****

b: How utterly… nightmarish.

m: I know. It really was.

But do you know the worst part about going out? What I would consider the ultimate in human degradation?

b: Ummmm…

Being harrassed by religious fanatics?

Feely airport security guards?

Not being able to cool yourself while simultaneously abusing precious home energy resources?

m: Close. But no.

b: Then what?

m: Eating in public. (closes fridge door and pirouettes out of the room)

Presenting… Shitty Kitty!!!

As you are, no doubt, familiar with Turd Bird and Turdle, you may have already figured that Shitty Kitty is a distant cousin to both. Although they can trace their lineage back to the same piece of… erm… remnant, they can hardly stand to be in the same room with each other.

For obvious reasons.

ShitKit (as she is often called) takes great pride in her looks and refuses to eshew the cleaning rituals of her species despite the particularly repulsive nature of the task.

A word to the wise:

It may be all too common for a cat to regurgitate when something peculiar enters their highly sensitive digestive systems, how-ever… since “we are what we eat”, and Shitty Kitty is no exception to that rule…

I think you know where I’m going with this…

Just know that isn’t your run-of-the-mill hairball.

Sucka

Somehow I have been sucked into spearheading a project for work that I had absolutely no interest in whatsoever.  

Maybe you’re wondering how something like this happens?  

Well, appaaaaaaaaarently, it’s because I am a sucker.  

Who sucks.  

Mightily.  

As you may already know, I hate my job. As more and more time has passed since I started here I have become less and less interested in impressing anyone with my awesomeness. I know I’m awesome. So why should I waste all that magnificence at a place that ranks only slightly above having a persistent stabby migraine accompanied by moderate anal leakage? I just want to do the job I’m paid for and forget this place at the end of my day. That includes avoiding any and all “special projects” that would “look good on my resume” or “present strong innovation for the department”.  

I’m JUST. NOT. INTERESTED.  

mmmmmkay?  

My boss presented the idea of creating a department-wide newsletter a few months ago and I feigned a smile and a nod hoping he would just forget about it like he does everything else in the way of ideas brought to his attention. What I should have realized was that he only forgets the ideas that others come up with. When it’s his idea, one that his boss is now privy to and that will reflect exceptionally well on his annual review, (since it was his idea. you see where I’m going with this?) you can bet the last sugar packet in your grandma’s handbag that it’s going to happen.  

I was told the reason I was approached for this task was due to my having graduated with a degree in Communications.  

When you tell most people you have a Bachelor’s of Arts in Communications it’s usually followed with a closed lipped smile and a raised eyebrow similar to one you might receive if you were 5 years old and just declared you had returned from the moon.  

Apparently, in my line of work, a Communications Undergrad degree screams (use your best Oprah voice): NEWS LETTER!  

Despite my numerous protests and general declarations of disinterest I still managed to get roped into this mess under the pretense that I would work with a group of people to produce the final product. What started as a “group” mysteriously devolved into just one other (highly unreliable) person who, upon our first meeting to discuss said newsletter, stated “Well since this is your project (meaning me) I’ll let you take the reins and you just let me know what you need help with”.  

Yeah, GREAT.   

This is why I didn’t want to be involved with the project in the first place because I knew “being involved” was just clever semantics for “do EVERYTHING”.   

So here I be.  

Forced to actually WORK at work (oh, the HUMANITY!) except as you can see I have chosen to use my time wisely and compose a blog post rather than start on this newsletter mess.  

It’s called prioritization, people…  

My deadline is Friday to come up with SOMETHING in the way of a layout for this exercise in time-wasting. Since I already blew off my responsibility for this project during our last meeting I need to get cracking, otherwise… well otherwise I imagine something truly horrific will happen to me like getting poked in the hand by a bag full of HIV needles that someone disposed of in the public restroom at work instead of in the proper receptacle OR getting mauled in the face by a rabid bear with HIV even though finding a bear in New Jersey is about as probable as finding a bear with HIV so in reality my punishment would be more along the lines of getting a well deserved stink-eye from my boss.  

***  

On my way home from work yesterday I get this text message from the bee:  

ur cat shit all over the place  

Since “all over the place” wasn’t enough detail for me, I asked “WHERE exactly?” to which the bee responded:  

by the door, by the shoes, by the ottoman, by the fireplace, by the litter box, on his legs, on his back, on the side table next to the door, EVERYWHERE.  

I expected to find diarrhea smeared and splattered across every inch of the house based on the level of disgust I could sense from his response to my question. Instead by the time I got home I found a totally un-fazed, mostly shit-free cat and a bee with a severely furrowed brow.  

In my quest to discover what could have been the cause of my little stinker’s butt dysfunction I noticed that, in my haste to make it out the door, I had left the filter complete with the ground remnants of that morning’s coffee in the sink. Since the stinky one is getting bigger by the minute and has recently discovered the joys of the kitchen counter/sink area I deduced he had gotten into my left-over caffeine and thusly exploded his bowels all over the house.  

I thought my explanation/admittance of guilt in the situation would speed up the forgiveness process between the bee and the shit source himself but it didn’t really work the way it played out in my head and instead resulted in a grudge now being held against me.  

Awe-SOME!  

To honor his poop-tasticness, the little orange monkey who lives in my house who is really a cat but probably at least partly a monkey, even more so now since “the incident”, named Scott McKitten, has his own Facebook page and he wants to be your friend!  

He’s new to the whole social networking scene so he might hit you up with a “meep” or a “mrowr” here or there but mostly he just sleeps and plays and looks cute.

He also wants to quiet the vicious rumor that cats suck out your breath while you’re sleeping, especially that of children.

Cats don’t discriminate, silly! They are just as likely to kill a grown human as they are a child and it has more to do with suffocation rather than the act of  sucking breath.  

And if you’re still not convinced he’s “friend” material, he wanted to leave you with this message:  

b mah friend or i shit on ur evrything...

Stinky and the Ceiling Fan

Presenting… Turdle!!!

 

That’s right friends.

The ever lovable Turd Bird now has a compatriot round these parts.

Turdle was the obvious next step to take in my quest to turn each member of the animal kingdom one by one into pieces of anthropomorphic poo.

Turdle?

Come on…

Unlike most of his species, Turdle refuses to retreat into his shell as a means of defense. As a matter of fact he would much rather sacrifice any appendage to a predator rather than having to face the inside of his shell.

The reason?

It smells like total shit in there.

[sadface]

Presenting… Turd Bird!!!

the bee thinks this drawing requires some backstory. I feel it’s self explanatory:

1 bird comprised of poo = a foul smelling, lonely and depressed member of the avian variety, a.k.a. Turd Bird!

In case you were wondering, Turd Bird came to fruition because I’m a nerdface with the sense of humor of a demented 5 year old.

I also like to rhyme.

and talk about poop.

Contrary to popular belief, Turd Bird becomes quite offended at the implication that he must love corn…

because he doesn’t.

That’s just how he was made :(

The Lost Weekend (brought to you courtesy of power outages, cabin fever and poop) *UPDATED* x 3!!!

You may already be aware that my regularly scheduled weekend programing was quite RUDELY interrupted by a friggin’ UNREAL rainstorm of catastrophic proportions which uprooted a giant tree and then flopped it, wholly inconveniently, on top of the power lines on my street. 

So, yeah. 

Since Saturday, around 2:30 in the PM we have not had any power in the house. 

Ok, ya’ll, let’s hear that collective wail: 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOS!!! Naht mah innernets!!! 

Needless to say, I have been like a chicken with its head cut off or a blogger with no hands. 

Really, whichever is more disturbing to your senses. 

Because that’s the kind of place I’m in right now. 

in case you can't tell, the clock is set to 'half past crazy'

 I haven’t showered or brushed my teeth (which admittedly, was more by stubborn choice than inability to do so) and we’ve been told that power will not be restored until Tuesday. 

Here is a brief pictorial rundown of my physical deterioration since Saturday: 

 

 

Along with having no power and no innernets,  black-outs cause a loss of running water when it is sourced from a well. 

This means, not only do sinks and showers not work, but neither do toilets. 

How cool is THAT?! 

So when I woke up this morning and needed to get on with a particular part of my morning routine, I found myself in a bit of a predicament. 

Since Saturday, I’d done fairly well with seeking out other outlets for excrement deposit.  

Our toilet is currently filled with a obscene amount of nasty, smelly pee water and toilet paper and being that I have no clue when we will actually get full functionality back, I decided that poo-ing in the toilet and letting it fester was not the best plan. 

So I did what I had to do. 

 

I pooped in a trashcan. 

Updates to follow…

UPDATE:

Tuesday morning.

You know when someone jokes “What’d ya get dressed in the dark or something?” when you don’t look particularly fabulous and put together?

Well, I can honestly say that, yes, today that is exactly what happened.

As of my departure to work @ 7:30 this morning power had still not been restored but we’ve been assured by the Elec Comp that things should be back up and running by 10PM tonight.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight…

UPDATE Part Deuce:

Tuesday evening.

9:00 PM, power restored!!!

This is an infinitely good thing, HOWEVER…

being that the power was not back up until 9, which any savvy American Idol fan would know was a full hour AFTER the show started, I missed the first half and therefore the recap will have to be put on hiatus/cancelled depending on my lack of motivation after work to scour the web for the performances I missed.

So.

I know you are crying on the inside AND out just wondering how you will ever get on with life without having the most awesome of all Idol recaps to read at your leisure today, but I assure you I will make it up to you somehow.

Even if it means putting my second poop post of the week on hold just to get the recap finished before the results show on Thursday.

UPDATE the 3rd:

The Idol results are on tonight, NOT Thursday.

If I do get a chance it will likely be a fast talking Micro Machines man inspired recap.

No promises…

To: the snow, From: (me), Message: BRING IT

O.M.G.ma.ged.don [Oh-mai-gahd-muh-ged-n]

-noun

1. an all encompassing word used to describe anything truly awe-inspiring AND ‘mageddon like.

2. not to be confused with “Snowmageddon” which would leave the world in a state much like that pictured below

a highly accurate artists rendering of the result of the Snowpocalypse, a.k.a. Snowmageddon, a.k.a. The Snow to End All Days

OMGmageddon can be used in m u l t i p l e “end of days” scenarios, WAY beyond terms such as  “snow-tastrophe” or, pffffffft “Snowmageddon”.

Please

Here are some OMGmageddon worthy examples:

• Anytime you seriously consider eating at a Burger King. You’re practically digging your own grave.
• When you’re all dressed up but have nowhere to go and then a super twister comes barreling through your town destroying everything in sight but you and your house and since you’re a misanthrope you are initially ecstatic except you realize that the twister literally decimated your town so you might be all alone (!!!) but now you have no cable (!?!).
• When the dog poops in your shoes. ALL your shoes.

OMGmageddon or any similar ‘mageddon phrasing including those using the prefix “arm” and/or “guitar” should NOT be used if:

The weather forecast is calling for a buttload (science term for “lots and lots”) of snowman poo to be dumped upon one’s home and surrounding vicinity.

In cases such as the one mentioned above, you should do the following:

• Don’t worry about it!
• Sleep in!
• Make snowballs!
• Throw them at forest animals!
• Take your dog out to play!
• Make more snowballs! but THIS TIME take some dog poop and pack the snow around it, then fling the snowball at someone to show them you care! (it’s like the next best thing to a Hallmark card)

Basically what you should do is embrace the last days you’ve got before the deep freeze settles over us all and we end up in the “Primitive Earthlings” section at the Blergleepglop Museum on Sector 779 of the Qrantfulp Republic.

Because seriously people , the snow takes no prisoners.

We’re all gonna die.