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)

Look What *I* Found! Friday: I Spy (and/or one of these things is not like the other for pretty obvious reasons) Edition

I’ve been running around like a  maniac all day trying to pack-up for our mini-trip to a cabin in the woods with some friends for the long Labor Day weekend all while juggling my normal Friday work from home schedule.

Needless to say, I’ve been a bit… harried. More so than usual. 

When I’m home I usually have a little shadow following me everywhere I go. A furry orange little me-eee-eeep-ing shadow. That being said, I must have tired even him out with my back and forth back and forth dance because after a while with no sign of the lil’ stinker I went into the bathroom to find this: 

He was only mildly fazed by my presence: 

oh. it's YOU...

May you and yours (and all the world’s sink-loving cats) have a safe and happy Labor Day!!!

Look What *I* Found! Friday (except it’s not, because it’s really Wednesday, but i’m thinking you knew that already) Edition

So… 

I’m toying with the notion of introducing a new feature here since the bee, Ah-HEM!, has apparently far better things to do than to update his blog any longer therefore leaving me without any weekly rejected photo content that I can steal and put on my blog on Sunday night so it seems like I’ve got a lot more going on here than I actually do. 

The. NERVE. 

I know it’s not Friday. Since I am a sucker for alliteration (does it count as alliteration if it’s just two words that start with the same letter?) and can’t seem to get my act together in time to prepare the post I had intended for today, I am bumping up the first of: 

Look What I Found! Friday (insert something here) Edition 

to today so that I can probably still not finish the post I had planned to put in this spot by then but it always feels so good when you buy yourself some time even though it rarely works out the way you imagined it would. 

Anyway, for the past few weeks, upon leaving work for the day, I have noticed a peculiar hole in the mulch near the parking lot. The first time I saw it I did like a QUA-DRUPLE take because, to my surprise, there was something in there! 

NATURE!!! 

More specifically? 

A tiny little mulch living-loving frog. 

betcha can't find him!

 No. Really. You’ll never find him. 

You wanna know why? 

Well APPARENTLY that lil’ wart-y shithead who has been chillin’ in that hole for weeks now has moved onto bigger and better piles of dirt (kind of like someone ELSE mentioned earlier in this post *coughcough* YOUknowwhoyouare *cough*) now that I come prepared with camera readied to snap pictures of him.  

What a dick. Doesn’t he know this totally screws the “Looky, looky here!” nature of this post?  

Or… does it? 

This is supposed to be a Friday thing so maybe it’s fitting that by posting on Wednesday not only are my readers let down with my “discovery” but so am I. 

*sigh* 

it was only AFTER i had done this whole thing in paint that i realized the red was really hard to read over the photo. i was too lazy/disenchanted to actually fix it. so... yeah, this post has reached a whole new level of suck.

Sorry guys. The next edition will be better. 

Probably… 

not.

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.

Weekend Bee-ject’s #23

Sooooooooooooo… the bee has been slacking. 

You should go visit him and tell him as much because obviously just the amount of guilt he gets from me isn’t enough. 

Plus, I’m kind of tired of being “the nag”. Now it’s your turn. 

I’m not saying I’m the most motivated person either. I usually have trouble just convincing myself to brush my teeth on days when I don’t come into contact with others. 

So… 

Since I’ve given you a taste of stinklefritz’s newfound love, I thought I’d give you some photographic evidence to back that ass up. 

I caught him like this: 

So I thought I’d see what he’d do if I turned on the faucet he loves so much WHILE he was still in there: 

either this cat loves water or he's INCREDIBLY lazy. or both.

Let’s take a closer look, shall we? 

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If I can teach him how to turn off the faucet when he’s finished… I think I’ll give him a set of keys to the house.

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]

Don’t Put Marbles In Your Nose/Put Them In There/DO NOT PUT THEM IN THERE (or anything else for that matter)

I’ve always been a “different” kind of person. Words that have been used to describe me since as far back as I can remember include: weird, strange, eccentric, alternative, unique, quirky, DIFFERENT. And those are just the nicer ones.

I mention this because when I was much younger I decided that shoving fuzzy willows* up my nose would be a great idea because I liked how they felt.

There is no doubt that fuzzy willows are perhaps some of the most decadently soft and luxurious little suckers in all of existence. In fact, if someone was entrepreneurial enough, I’d bet that harvested willows could be turned into some seriously excellent fabric, potentially putting the fur industry out of business.

Think about it…

Now, picture this:

I am 3 years old.

At the time, we lived with my grandmother, and my Gramm, being my Gramm (and likely my direct link to eccentricities abound) had less of a house and more of a museum filled to the brim with various tchotchkes, antiques and oddities. One of those oddities was an old spittoon that held branches of fuzzy willows.

My mother is busy at the sink, finishing up the last few dishes before she has to jet off to work. I am all of 5 feet away curiously picking at the fuzzy roundness of the willow branch emerging from the brim of the spittoon when one after another after another AFTER ANOTHER find their way into my pint-sized self’s nostril. No sooner than the last of ’em have been shoved into my nose, my mom turns to find her 3-year-old looking something like this:

My mom has now entered into full panic-mode.

So here I am, 5 or more (nobody is really sure) fuzzy willows unceremoniously shoved into one nostril, my breathing is struggled and my complexion is spotty.

~momentary aside~

I was very inquisitive and somewhat independent as a child, frequently looking to push the boundaries of what was the norm or acceptable into something that what was straight up bizarre-nified. I went through a brief phase where I would only wear different shoes together. I can remember being in kindergarten and wearing 1 pink cowboy boot and 1 rubber soled canvas slip-on to school. Rubber soled so I could still participate in that day’s poor excuse for physical activity: jump roping. So while I perfected the one-legged double jump, I’m sure my biggest success was establishing myself forever more as a closeted extrovert.

I’m not entirely sure something like that even exists but I’m totally claiming its discovery as my own.

(except i can’t because i just googled “closeted extrovert” and found someone’s blog! check. it. out.)

So!

The closeted extrovert (according to my own definition) is someone who just lives to push the envelope but doesn’t want to be seen as overly “show-off-y” or “obnoxious”. Just sort of outer circle and mysterious/weird, strange, eccentric, alternative, unique, quirky, DIFFERENT. Apparently there is also something called a “clos-et extrovert” and that’s basically the exact opposite of what I’m talking about so let’s forget I even mentioned it…

~resuming~

My mom runs next door to get my uncle (because what the hell ELSE do you do in a situation like this?) and he looks at me and then looks at her and suggests I be seen by some medical professionals.

The next few hours are a blur of lab coats and arms holding down my tiny body to an exam table so I don’t squirm away while a GINORMOUS pair of tweezers infiltrates my nostril in the hopes of removing the fuzzy perpetrators before they lodge themselves too much farther inside my nasal cavity.

Thankfully, I was left physically unscathed by the whole incident and (probably) all willows were successfully removed from my head.

It was a highly traumatic event to say the least but I learned my lesson. If you’re going to put things up your nose make sure they are BIGGER than your nostril.

Like a tiny marshmallow.

Duh.

*i had to ammend the name of said item due to a large number of kiddie p()rn perverts finding my blog.

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.