Cleaning - really?!

I have spent all weekend cleaning.  Yes, cleaning.  I've somehow developed this homemaker gene that I need to go away as soon as possible.  I told my friends that my house is now "mom can come visit" clean.  When I told Rob all that I had done, he asked "uhm.. are you feeling sick"?  

Which makes me wonder.  Am I really that bad at keeping my house in order? When my husband is wondering if I'm sick because I'm cleaning it makes me think that my priorities are very much in the right place. Like.. I don't really care what my house looks like because I'm always out, never home, which means I'm very much enjoying my life.   Or curled up in bed reading.   Or watching TV.  Or not paying attention to the mess in my house.  (which I totally blame the dogs for making... they throw these wild parties when I'm at work.. or out enjoying life).  

This is what's in my head right now...

• For those of you who see my FB account - you know my battle with a certain person over my "flip flops".   I think I'm winning it.  His problem is, he's a guy and very not fashion forward. I'm not saying that I am, but at least I know the difference between a flip flop and a wedge.  Or peep-toe shoes.   Apparently - if he can see my toes, they are flip flops.   Anyone know where to find some clear closed-toe shoes?!   If I didn't know better, I think he really just doesn't like toes. 

• One of my friends is taking a pole dancing aerobics class.  If my schedule weren't so hectic, I would totally just go to observe.  Yeah - what did you think I would say?  That's I would try it?!  The last time I got close to a pole was ... well, South Beach.   And I only remember bits and pieces of that night. 

• Looking for a job in this economy is not the best thing in the world.  But I'm trying.  Although, I probably shouldn't list this blog on my resume.  They might read that I tend to get drunk from time to time (to help out the police!) and might not find that "hire worthy".  Ok, scratch that.  I might also want to take off the paragraph that says "will work for nearly free".   And by nearly free I mean about 250K.  Hey, my wittiness comes with a price.  So does my horrible spelling from time to time. 

Nerdy Insomnia.

One of my best friends and I are kind of book nerds.  We truly are.  I love every minute of it, though. I love getting so caught up in a book that I lose myself to the pages and the stories and realize hours later that I've read halfway through the book.  And she's really good at recommending books that I would enjoy. 

With that said - I'm the dumbass that stays up until 2am on a work/school night reading because I cannot put the damn book down and then sits here at work trying to stay awake (after having slept only 4 hours) beating myself up for staying up so late.  This happens way too often. You think I would have learned by now. 

Coffee, Coke, and a 5 hour energy... here I come.   I might be puking in an hour or so.  Just a warning.

Life the last month. In three minutes or less. READ FAST!

Some days, my life really rocks.  And then other days, I'm scrubbing poop off the carpet.  Yep.  Two of my dogs have been sick.  Iris almost died and Bella, well - she apparently wasn't getting enough attention, with her sister almost dying and all, so she decided to fake illness and be rushed off to the vet also.  Ok, I kid - she really was sick, but if she's anything like her mother, a little melodrama is in her blood.  I always think I have some disease or another and Rob thinks that I need to buy stock in WebMD.  Which I don't get - because it's FREE... so how would I make any money off of it?! 

I know, I know, the Facebook guy is a billionaire but it's only because he sold his soul to the devil.  I haven't even seen the movie, but I know that's what happens.  The devil is played by Joe Pesci in that film, right?

Here's a recap of the last few weeks:

 - Iris developed poisoning of her organs, basically, and was at the vet for 5-6 days straight.  Bella then decided she wanted attention and she got sick.  Here's the problem (aside from them being really sick) - Iris takes her 6 pills just fine wrapped in peanut butter. She doesn't even chew the peanut butter to realize that I'm hiding these pills (that are so huge, I might as well be giving them to horses). Bella, being the melodramatic older child, bites me every time I try to give her pills.  Hers are tiny and yet, I have to, literally, hold her down, force open her mouth, stick the pill all the way in the back of her throat, hold her mouth closed for a minute, while I blow on her nose and massage her throat, watch her spit the pill back out and repeat this process about 6 times.  I'm not kidding.  This is a battle every twelve hours.  Did I mention that she's a strong fucking dog for being 8 lbs?! 

- I got really really drunk in the name of the law. Or something like that.  The Knox County Sheriff's department (and don't call them KPD, god forbid) was needing "volunteers" to get really drunk so that new cadet class could practice their field sobriety testing. So two of my friends (one of them being the one that volunteered me in the first place because she KNOWS me and realizes this was right up my alley) decided we should be test subjects.  The rules were simple:  Get to a 0.08 BAC.  I'm a rule breaker.  Or just incredibly intolerant of alcohol because I was "arrestable" at a 0.02.  I felt really bad for the cadets that were stuck with me.  First of, because one of them had no sense of humor (and well, my questions and jokes did not go over well with him AT ALL) and they introduced the other one as Jet Li (he was Asian) and I really thought that was his name for a minute and as I kept getting more drunk I forgot his REAL name and I think I called him Jet Li the entire time. I apologize to him.  I know he'll never read this, but I'm putting that out there.  He was kinda hot, but I could have been his mother. He was actually laughing with me.  Or at me.   I was officially plastered (couldn't stand up straight or walk, really) at a 0.051, which means I cannot follow the rules and will probably not be invited back. That - and I asked some of the cadets if I could see their stick.  And started giggling when instead of "stick" I said "penis".  I was drunk.  It was THEIR fault.  And as many of you know, I really love people when I'm drunk and I might have asked a few of them to marry me. I'm weak for men in uniform.  Yeah, they are NEVER asking me back. 

3. I made my first (of hopefully many) visits to the magical city.  When I say "magical city" you have no idea.  It's true.  I felt like I needed to be in a movie when we drove into Pineville, KY.   It was so small, you could probably mistake it for a movie set.  A movie of this quaint little town with southern belles roaming around in their big dresses and hats and parasols.  I felt like an out of place city girl (especially complaining about no cell phone service) but oh my. I think I'm in love with a town.  They have a town square and everything!  Their houses are literally over 100 years old.  I got to tour the mayor's house - which made me feel important.  Ok, I know the mayor of the town, being that I'm best friends with her daughter and "tour" is probably not the right word - but that sounds like I should get a key to this magical city. Mayor - are you reading this?  I really need a key to your city.  Next time I visit, I'm wearing a frilly dress, a big hat, and damn it - I will have a twirly parasol!

4. Said best friend had a baby.  I was adamant that I do not like babies, I do not like to hold babies, I do not like their squishy little faces, etc, etc.   I'm 31 years old and have never held a baby in my life. A newborn, anyway.  Yet, within 24 hours, this little girl had me eating out of her hand.  I'm in love.  Don't get crazy thinking that now I want to get pregnant and have a squishy faced baby (because I don't).  But this little girl melts my heart.  And she doesn't have a squishy face. So I'm not that scared anymore.

I've had a fantastically diverse month and that was only July.  Let's see what August has in store for me.  I have a bachelorette party to attend and preparations to get ready for college football season.  Cannot wait to see how much trouble I can get into!

Dear Drunk Drivers:

Most of the time, my blogs are funny and completely insane, because what is on my mind comes out on a computer screen and it's a jumble of words that sometimes doesn't make sense.  I'm ok with that.   This time though, it's a warning and a rant.

Last Thursday night, I seriously almost got really hurt.  Or maybe died (only because I wasn't wearing my seatbelt and it could have been REALLY bad).  I was going down a two lane highway and a drunk driver got into my lane, probably going about 50 miles an hour and made me swerve off the road into some construction barrel that my car destroyed.   Since it was raining, I ended up spinning and pointing north on a street that runs east/west.  Probably the scariest moment of my life because I thought "Holy shit... this is going to be a head on collision and it's going to be bad... and I'm not wearing my seatbelt"  Thankfully, I was able to swerve and miss the asshole that could have killed me. 

So this is my open letter to those drivers that keep getting behind the wheel after having one too many:  STOP.   If you are my friend and keep doing it, I will stab you.  Seriously.  You are going to hurt someone or yourself and the world would be a darker place because of the light that you will have snuffed out prematurely.  

At least I know what cauliflower is!

Over the weekend - I was home alone, since Rob was working in Louisiana - my friends felt pity on me, so they invited me over to have burgers with them.  My job was to bring the lettuce, tomato, onions (which now that I'm thinking about it, it might not have been that they felt sorry for me as much as they just didn't want to run out to the grocery store and thought "let see who we can invite so they can bring us stuff for burgers" but since my friend is like 10 months pregnant, I won't hold it against her. Much).

Anyway, I went to the grocery store and I thought I knew the difference between lettuce and cabbage, but it became clear that I might not.  Now, I know I'm not a cook. I'm a damn baker and we never need cabbage or lettuce to bake cakes, unless you're making kind of a f*cked up cake, but I've never tried that so it's not like I buy whole lettuce and cabbage anyway, because they make things in bags now for salads. Which you can CLEARLY tell is lettuce because it says so right on the bag.

I walked up to what looked like lettuce and well, it had a sign that said "cabbage" on it.  Looking around, there was no sign that said "lettuce" so I thought they might have just misplaced the sign. I grabbed a head of this lettuce/cabbage thing and walked around the grocery store holding it thinking to myself that I thought it was lettuce, but what if it wasn't?  (When I was telling the story to my friend, she asked "why didn't you just ask someone what it was?" To which I replied "I didn't want to look like a dumbass that doesn't know the difference between lettuce or cabbage").  I was thinking that I better not show up to this grill out with a head of cabbage, because my friends are ruthless and I would never live it down (like the time that I was so drunk I fell face first on a four wheeler and couldn't remember anything so they told me I got a busted lip and swollen eye from a fight which was YEARS ago and they still bring it up).  So, I walked back to the produce section and put the head of lettuce/cabbage down and decided to get "fancy" lettuce which is painted purple on the tips and in a stalk and way more expensive, but you can tell it's lettuce because it says so on the packaging. 

At least I can tell what cauliflower looks like. 

PS.  Yesterday, I made up a song about my ordeal and when I was telling Rob about it, he was too busy being the hero of Baton Rouge to really care and might have said I was slightly retarded.

Way to dash my dreams, hubby.

Those of you that REALLY know me, know that I have been - for a while - obsessed with catching a bad guy on America's Most Wanted.  I know, I know, they even cancelled it because it was too much for me to handle, but for YEARS, I've watched the show, visited the website, etc... knowing that at some point some bad guy lives near me or I have seen him at Walmart (because criminals need to buy detergent too) and I was going to call and get famous or just maybe get a tshirt that said "I caught suspect number #82943" or something cool like that.  If they weren't going to give me a tshirt, I totally would have made it for myself.

So, Rob just calls me and apparently his hotel got robbed this morning.  (and I could totally make a comment about how Rob's hotel got Robbed because he was staying at it, but I'll refrain for the fear of sounding like a 14 year old, which you and I totally know I am).  He saw the guys running from the building and of course, like he does... he processed everything they were wearing and what the get-a-way car looked like and what color their eyes were and if they were cheating on their spouse with someone (oh, never mind... he just notices those things about our neighbor) but he went downstairs and the police questioned him and they will probably catch the bad guys because of his self-described "hawk eyes".

My reaction to it all?  GOD DAMN IT TO HELL ROBERT! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME?!   He was confused at first and said something about needing to go poop (or get ice, I wasn't really paying attention) and I just want to be mad at him for taking the ONE thing I've wanted to do my whole life (aside from that one other sexual thing, but we won't get into that) and making it about him.  Of course they are going to catch the bad guy because Rob is extremely observant and I can almost guarantee you that he can tell you if they had fillings in their teeth, but damn it - it was MY thing.  Great.  Next thing you know, he'll be birthing a freaking kid just to show me up and TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME TOO. 

Thanks Rob for robbing me of my life dream.  That is all.

Update:  So these dumbasses show up the next day to rob another hotel and of course my husband spots them and calls the cops and they caught them.  Apparently, he's a hero (in his mind).  Really?! They didn't even have weapons on them.  They might not even have been robbers. Just panhandlers that went from hotel to hotel asking for money and the cops just got fed up with them and arrested them. At least, that's how it goes in my mind.    In real life - they were crooks who didn't carry weapons.  True story.   Oh, and Rob still apparently thinks he's a hero.