Whatever.
Friday
Thursday
Oral-B Memory Lane.
Feeling a bit under the weather, so I'm going to pull something out of the archives....
How Oral-B could better: A lesson in oral morals and needs.
I have an Oral-B toothbrush. It's one of those fancy Pulsar ones that does half the work for you, and I'm too cheap to buy a proper electric toothbrush.
The other day I was in the drugstore nearby and picking up some mail (it doubles as the local post office), when I walked through the toothbrush aisle. I marvel at the rows of toothbrushes, all able to perform the exact same function, but all marketing to people like myself....who are looking for some new and invigorating way to brush better. So I am admiring the colours and considering picking out a new one to replace my toothbrush because I am convinced I can find one to better fit my oral needs. And I spot it.
It is a toothbrush that, when you are brushing, plays music. And if you want the volume increased you have to brush harder. And my jaw drops. Because this satisfies both my inner need for dancing through every activity of the day, but also it seems as though I have been able to top the Pulsar.
B watches me grab it off the shelf and eyeballs me. He points out that they are designed for children. I scoff and hold the package that has a picture of Destiny's Child on it close to my chest. And as I'm walking to the cashier I start to worry. Will they smirk at me? Should I pick up another toothbrush and try to pass it off as a purchase for an unpresent child? B drags me to the cashier and, in a move that clearly indicates he is able to read my mind, gleefully asks the cashier if I am the only adult who has ever purchased one for herself. In that moment, I loathe his very existence.
So, naturally, my face turns bright red. And I stammer. And I say "Look. Don't judge me." And the cashier smirks. Just like I had assumed. And the grin widens on B's face. He is aware that he will pay for this transgression, but he is clearly enjoying every moment and relishing my shame. I glare at him, hand over my debit card, and look to hightail it out of the joint as fast as possible...already I am trying to determine the next nearest drugstore that I will begin to shop at instead.
We walk home while I ignore B. This is only phase one of his excommunication. The shun. He is still smirking, but has now begun to plead with me to do something other than glare. He has obviously forgotten that I am able to glare and shun for long periods of time. He can go fuck himself.
Once we actually get in the house, I rip open the package and pull out my brand new toothbrush and shove it in my mouth. The first thing I notice is that I have to crank open my jaw even more than normal in order to get my molars. It is not the most comfortable thing in the world. In fact, I begin to get slightly annoyed that most of the extra plastic was hidden within the package. I figure that 2pm is as good a time as any to brush my teeth, and layer on the toothpaste. And then I turn it on.
And like the song goes.....I'M A SURVIVOR, NOT GONNA GIVE UP.....
I learn quickly that the mixture of headjerks and toothbrush and toothpaste are not quite exactly healthy in that I am now swallowing most of my toothpaste, and what I'm not swallowing, I'm flinging across the house while attempting to show B how utterly bootylicious I am. And I am. Bootylicious.
B is unable to contain his laughter at the Sensodyne spackled walls, floor, and face (mine). I do not care. I am fucking bootylicious. I am a survivor. And I'm not gonna give up.
Well, not until the song ends. And then I go back to my trusty Oral-B. The singing toothbrush clearly fills a niche in my life, but I'm looking for a steady and hardworking toothbrush. A toothbrush that cares about me. That says to me every night "Hey, don't worry, I'll do most of the work because I, like, totally get that you are a lazy ass. And that is cool with me."
B gets to clean the walls. And I'm waiting for all those free toothbrushes to come in the mail, but they never do.
They never do.
*tear*
How Oral-B could better: A lesson in oral morals and needs.
I have an Oral-B toothbrush. It's one of those fancy Pulsar ones that does half the work for you, and I'm too cheap to buy a proper electric toothbrush.
The other day I was in the drugstore nearby and picking up some mail (it doubles as the local post office), when I walked through the toothbrush aisle. I marvel at the rows of toothbrushes, all able to perform the exact same function, but all marketing to people like myself....who are looking for some new and invigorating way to brush better. So I am admiring the colours and considering picking out a new one to replace my toothbrush because I am convinced I can find one to better fit my oral needs. And I spot it.
It is a toothbrush that, when you are brushing, plays music. And if you want the volume increased you have to brush harder. And my jaw drops. Because this satisfies both my inner need for dancing through every activity of the day, but also it seems as though I have been able to top the Pulsar.
B watches me grab it off the shelf and eyeballs me. He points out that they are designed for children. I scoff and hold the package that has a picture of Destiny's Child on it close to my chest. And as I'm walking to the cashier I start to worry. Will they smirk at me? Should I pick up another toothbrush and try to pass it off as a purchase for an unpresent child? B drags me to the cashier and, in a move that clearly indicates he is able to read my mind, gleefully asks the cashier if I am the only adult who has ever purchased one for herself. In that moment, I loathe his very existence.
So, naturally, my face turns bright red. And I stammer. And I say "Look. Don't judge me." And the cashier smirks. Just like I had assumed. And the grin widens on B's face. He is aware that he will pay for this transgression, but he is clearly enjoying every moment and relishing my shame. I glare at him, hand over my debit card, and look to hightail it out of the joint as fast as possible...already I am trying to determine the next nearest drugstore that I will begin to shop at instead.
We walk home while I ignore B. This is only phase one of his excommunication. The shun. He is still smirking, but has now begun to plead with me to do something other than glare. He has obviously forgotten that I am able to glare and shun for long periods of time. He can go fuck himself.
Once we actually get in the house, I rip open the package and pull out my brand new toothbrush and shove it in my mouth. The first thing I notice is that I have to crank open my jaw even more than normal in order to get my molars. It is not the most comfortable thing in the world. In fact, I begin to get slightly annoyed that most of the extra plastic was hidden within the package. I figure that 2pm is as good a time as any to brush my teeth, and layer on the toothpaste. And then I turn it on.
And like the song goes.....I'M A SURVIVOR, NOT GONNA GIVE UP.....
I learn quickly that the mixture of headjerks and toothbrush and toothpaste are not quite exactly healthy in that I am now swallowing most of my toothpaste, and what I'm not swallowing, I'm flinging across the house while attempting to show B how utterly bootylicious I am. And I am. Bootylicious.
B is unable to contain his laughter at the Sensodyne spackled walls, floor, and face (mine). I do not care. I am fucking bootylicious. I am a survivor. And I'm not gonna give up.
Well, not until the song ends. And then I go back to my trusty Oral-B. The singing toothbrush clearly fills a niche in my life, but I'm looking for a steady and hardworking toothbrush. A toothbrush that cares about me. That says to me every night "Hey, don't worry, I'll do most of the work because I, like, totally get that you are a lazy ass. And that is cool with me."
B gets to clean the walls. And I'm waiting for all those free toothbrushes to come in the mail, but they never do.
They never do.
*tear*
Wednesday
Wordless Wednesday.
This photo may seem a bit odd at first, until you learn that we argued about this exact shot for over 20 minutes. Because that is how we do things. Wordless, indeed.
Tuesday
Osmosis.
We spend a lot of time in a nearby national park, sometimes up to three or four nights a week, courtesy of our hobbies (night photography and astronomy). We have our favourite lake, we have our favourite views, and we have our favourite trails.
The best thing about the park is that it only starts to really come alive at dusk. The coyotes start to howl, the beavers finish off their work and can be seen scurrying around the dens, the owls compete with the geese for who can be the most obnoxious. I love nature. Oh....and the bison herds start moving around looking for a good place to sleep.
Which is how we found ourselves trapped, in our car, in the middle of a herd at least 80 (I stopped counting at that point) animals large as they were crossing from one side of the road to the other. The thing with bison is that they are bat-fucking-shit crazy. They are the Naomi Campbell of the wildlife kingdom. They will look all calm and serene and then, without warning, BAM! BISON CHOP TO YOUR SPLEEN.
I really wanted to take a picture, and even pulled out the camera, until B reminded me that all the little flashing lights we could see were the eyes that were looking RIGHT AT US. Like fuck I'm going to blind a herd of bison. I may be adventurous (I told you a few weeks ago I wasn't crazy, so get off my back), but I'm not stupid. So you'll just have to trust me that the car was stopped on the road surrounded by slow moving bison who were just waiting for us to sneeze, or look at them wrong, to trample the car and leave our tale to the good people at the Darwin Awards.
What is our heroine to do? She's going to whisper, for starters.
"Just keep driving. Slowly."
"How exactly am I supposed to not hit ANY OF THE MASSIVE ANIMALS ON THE ROAD?"
"SHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! It's like Frogger. But....really slow. And we're the frogs but not on the road and then the bison become the traffic so I suppose that technically my Frogger comparison breaks down here."
"Frogger had room to move. We are surrounded on all sides with no room to move through the herd."
"If we keep rolling, slowly, maybe they'll get used to the motion and move out of the way?"
"Or we could gently roll into the side of a sleeping bison and wake it up."
"WWOAD?"
"Huh?"
"What would our ancestors do?"
"Spoken like someone who isn't so Scandinavian her skin glows in the middle of the night."
"HEY. Porcelain skin, asshole."
"You are the whitest person I have ever known. And I don't mean that culturally."
"WE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE TALKING ABOUT OSMOSISING OURSELVES FROM THIS SITUATION."
"Would you shut up? There are more looking this way. And I don't think you know what osmosis is."
"We want to be on the other side of the membrane, if you know what I mean."
"Science is ashamed of you."
"Wouldn't be the first time."
"We should really grab the park ranger's phone number and have it on speed dial from now on."
"Let's just hope we don't have to integrate into the bison society in order to escape. I have a feeling I'd be really susceptible to the situation and would wind up with Stockholm Syndrome. Wikipedia would not be kind to my plight. Or Fark. Those fucking assholes would rip me a new one. What the hell do they know about survival? About roughing it and doing whatever it takes to stay alive in a society of creatures with the mental instability of a supermodel, but weigh half a ton each? They don't know how good they've got it."
"....next time you bring your DS."
Twenty minutes later we cleared the herd. And ran into a Yeti. That is fact*.
*depending on which one of us you talk to
The best thing about the park is that it only starts to really come alive at dusk. The coyotes start to howl, the beavers finish off their work and can be seen scurrying around the dens, the owls compete with the geese for who can be the most obnoxious. I love nature. Oh....and the bison herds start moving around looking for a good place to sleep.
Which is how we found ourselves trapped, in our car, in the middle of a herd at least 80 (I stopped counting at that point) animals large as they were crossing from one side of the road to the other. The thing with bison is that they are bat-fucking-shit crazy. They are the Naomi Campbell of the wildlife kingdom. They will look all calm and serene and then, without warning, BAM! BISON CHOP TO YOUR SPLEEN.
I really wanted to take a picture, and even pulled out the camera, until B reminded me that all the little flashing lights we could see were the eyes that were looking RIGHT AT US. Like fuck I'm going to blind a herd of bison. I may be adventurous (I told you a few weeks ago I wasn't crazy, so get off my back), but I'm not stupid. So you'll just have to trust me that the car was stopped on the road surrounded by slow moving bison who were just waiting for us to sneeze, or look at them wrong, to trample the car and leave our tale to the good people at the Darwin Awards.
What is our heroine to do? She's going to whisper, for starters.
"Just keep driving. Slowly."
"How exactly am I supposed to not hit ANY OF THE MASSIVE ANIMALS ON THE ROAD?"
"SHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! It's like Frogger. But....really slow. And we're the frogs but not on the road and then the bison become the traffic so I suppose that technically my Frogger comparison breaks down here."
"Frogger had room to move. We are surrounded on all sides with no room to move through the herd."
"If we keep rolling, slowly, maybe they'll get used to the motion and move out of the way?"
"Or we could gently roll into the side of a sleeping bison and wake it up."
"WWOAD?"
"Huh?"
"What would our ancestors do?"
"Spoken like someone who isn't so Scandinavian her skin glows in the middle of the night."
"HEY. Porcelain skin, asshole."
"You are the whitest person I have ever known. And I don't mean that culturally."
"WE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE TALKING ABOUT OSMOSISING OURSELVES FROM THIS SITUATION."
"Would you shut up? There are more looking this way. And I don't think you know what osmosis is."
"We want to be on the other side of the membrane, if you know what I mean."
"Science is ashamed of you."
"Wouldn't be the first time."
"We should really grab the park ranger's phone number and have it on speed dial from now on."
"Let's just hope we don't have to integrate into the bison society in order to escape. I have a feeling I'd be really susceptible to the situation and would wind up with Stockholm Syndrome. Wikipedia would not be kind to my plight. Or Fark. Those fucking assholes would rip me a new one. What the hell do they know about survival? About roughing it and doing whatever it takes to stay alive in a society of creatures with the mental instability of a supermodel, but weigh half a ton each? They don't know how good they've got it."
"....next time you bring your DS."
Twenty minutes later we cleared the herd. And ran into a Yeti. That is fact*.
*depending on which one of us you talk to
Sunday
Boobquake
"Today is Boobquake!"
"Is...is that what I think it is?"
"It is EXACTLY what you think it is."
"I've been wishing and hoping for years now....."
"The people who make calendars finally listened to you."
"It's because I went to their head offices wearing no pants."
"No, that was the bank. And that is why *I* have to make deposits from now on."
"Is...is that what I think it is?"
"It is EXACTLY what you think it is."
"I've been wishing and hoping for years now....."
"The people who make calendars finally listened to you."
"It's because I went to their head offices wearing no pants."
"No, that was the bank. And that is why *I* have to make deposits from now on."
Friday
Favourite Things.
This probably tops our list of favourite things. If you haven't seen Firefly yet, I will wait while you watch the series.
Go on.
In unrelated news, B pulled his groin last night. I've agreed to not make fun of him until he feels better. That means I get +43451 points and I don't have to share any of the beer from the Beer Fest that is taking place right next door tonight.
Thursday
Hypothetical jobs.
"What would you do if I came home and told you that I had a job offer in the UK?"
"Have you been applying for jobs in the UK?"
"Just...what would you do?"
"What about our apartment lease? And moving costs?"
"They would provide a large signing bonus that would take care of things like that."
"A signing bonus that would cover nearly a year of rent?"
"Yes."
"What about the cats? To take them overseas they need something like 6 months worth of tests and shots ahead of time, not to mention the kennel costs and quarantine on the other side."
"Taken care of."
"So every single expense would be taken care of?"
"Yes."
"I'm not fucking packing this place again."
"The movers would do that."
"But I have to finish unpacking first!"
"Fine. You've unpacked everything in a giant pile on the floor. Movers will repack it all."
"Okay. I would be fine with it."
"What if I told you that the job was working for the UK government?"
"Okay...."
"And I couldn't talk about it."
"Like, you wouldn't talk about it or you couldn't?"
"That's classified."
"You totally work for The Doctor now, don't you?"
"What?"
"YOU ARE TAKING A JOB WORKING FOR THE DOCTOR DIVISION, AREN'T YOU??"
"I was thinking more MI5."
"You need to have some sort of special signal. Like...telling me you took a job with the Agricultural Department."
"But what if the job really is with that department??"
"It never is. Ever. No one works for that sort of department. It is all clandestine work for secret offices underneath pastures."
"I'm pretty sure government offices aren't in the middle of fields."
"Did you just wink at me?"
"What?"
"YOU JUST WINKED AT ME!"
"But....I am incapable of winking."
"Did The Doctor teach you? Is that your secret signal? *lays finger on side of nose* I'm with you. Brain flu and all that."
"I'm not sure who is the real winner here. That you can't even reference Mad Cow Disease properly, or that I knew what the hell you were talking about."
"And yet, there are still boxes to be unpacked. And don't think I haven't noticed that the entire time you've been keeping me talking you have failed to put away the GIANT PILE OF CLOTHES RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU."
"My next wife is going to do this sort of thing for me."
"You better take that job with The Doctor division, what with needing to go back to the 1940's."
"I'd settle for someone who didn't talk back."
"Wouldn't we all?"
"Have you been applying for jobs in the UK?"
"Just...what would you do?"
"What about our apartment lease? And moving costs?"
"They would provide a large signing bonus that would take care of things like that."
"A signing bonus that would cover nearly a year of rent?"
"Yes."
"What about the cats? To take them overseas they need something like 6 months worth of tests and shots ahead of time, not to mention the kennel costs and quarantine on the other side."
"Taken care of."
"So every single expense would be taken care of?"
"Yes."
"I'm not fucking packing this place again."
"The movers would do that."
"But I have to finish unpacking first!"
"Fine. You've unpacked everything in a giant pile on the floor. Movers will repack it all."
"Okay. I would be fine with it."
"What if I told you that the job was working for the UK government?"
"Okay...."
"And I couldn't talk about it."
"Like, you wouldn't talk about it or you couldn't?"
"That's classified."
"You totally work for The Doctor now, don't you?"
"What?"
"YOU ARE TAKING A JOB WORKING FOR THE DOCTOR DIVISION, AREN'T YOU??"
"I was thinking more MI5."
"You need to have some sort of special signal. Like...telling me you took a job with the Agricultural Department."
"But what if the job really is with that department??"
"It never is. Ever. No one works for that sort of department. It is all clandestine work for secret offices underneath pastures."
"I'm pretty sure government offices aren't in the middle of fields."
"Did you just wink at me?"
"What?"
"YOU JUST WINKED AT ME!"
"But....I am incapable of winking."
"Did The Doctor teach you? Is that your secret signal? *lays finger on side of nose* I'm with you. Brain flu and all that."
"I'm not sure who is the real winner here. That you can't even reference Mad Cow Disease properly, or that I knew what the hell you were talking about."
"And yet, there are still boxes to be unpacked. And don't think I haven't noticed that the entire time you've been keeping me talking you have failed to put away the GIANT PILE OF CLOTHES RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU."
"My next wife is going to do this sort of thing for me."
"You better take that job with The Doctor division, what with needing to go back to the 1940's."
"I'd settle for someone who didn't talk back."
"Wouldn't we all?"
Wednesday
Tuesday
Justification.
*B walks in the room*
"Hey...getting pregnant in order to justify buying a dozen lullaby covers of awesome songs is probably not a good idea, right?"
*B walks out of the room*
"I mean....BECAUSE I LOVE LITTLE BRATS!! *pause* CAN I STILL BUY THE SONGS??"
"Hey...getting pregnant in order to justify buying a dozen lullaby covers of awesome songs is probably not a good idea, right?"
*B walks out of the room*
"I mean....BECAUSE I LOVE LITTLE BRATS!! *pause* CAN I STILL BUY THE SONGS??"
Monday
Friday
Mr. Toad.
"That is a porcupine."
"No, it is a muskrat."
"Have you ever SEEN a porcupine before? It's a porcupine. His name is Porky. It's unfortunate, but that is his name."
"You amaze and/or frighten me sometimes."
"This is my own private Wind in the Willows."
"Please don't say that in front of the park warden. We just paid the entrance fee."
"He runs the place. He probably gets invited to all the events at Toad Hall."
"People like you need a day pass, you know."
"That is rich coming from the guy who couldn't identify a fucking porcupine."
"It's a draw....."
"HEEEYYYYYOOOHHHH! Look! A MOOSE! MOOOOOOSSSEEEEEEE!"
"....briefly."
"No, it is a muskrat."
"Have you ever SEEN a porcupine before? It's a porcupine. His name is Porky. It's unfortunate, but that is his name."
"You amaze and/or frighten me sometimes."
"This is my own private Wind in the Willows."
"Please don't say that in front of the park warden. We just paid the entrance fee."
"He runs the place. He probably gets invited to all the events at Toad Hall."
"People like you need a day pass, you know."
"That is rich coming from the guy who couldn't identify a fucking porcupine."
"It's a draw....."
"HEEEYYYYYOOOHHHH! Look! A MOOSE! MOOOOOOSSSEEEEEEE!"
"....briefly."
Wednesday
Stereo.
"Hello husband. How is the office?"
"I'm on my way home. Want me to pick up something?"
"Wait a second. *telephone clicking* Hellloooooooooo. Ahahahahahahaha."
"....what the hell?"
"I CAN HAZ CHEEEEEEZEBUURRRRGGEEEERRRZZZZZZ!!!!"
"........."
"MWUAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
"You have one phone pressed up to each ear, don't you?"
"I AM THE ALMIGHTY ALIEN ZERBLOG! I HAVE COME FOR YOUR COTTON CANDDYYYYYY!"
"We're on a sugar-free diet starting right now."
"But.....Zerblog does not care for aspartame."
"*click*"
"I'm on my way home. Want me to pick up something?"
"Wait a second. *telephone clicking* Hellloooooooooo. Ahahahahahahaha."
"....what the hell?"
"I CAN HAZ CHEEEEEEZEBUURRRRGGEEEERRRZZZZZZ!!!!"
"........."
"MWUAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
"You have one phone pressed up to each ear, don't you?"
"I AM THE ALMIGHTY ALIEN ZERBLOG! I HAVE COME FOR YOUR COTTON CANDDYYYYYY!"
"We're on a sugar-free diet starting right now."
"But.....Zerblog does not care for aspartame."
"*click*"
Tuesday
Monday
By hand.
"Do you mind washing my work shirts that were in my suitcase?"
"What do I look like, your 1950's housewife? The cheerful gal who hides her pain in a haze of vicodin and pineapple upside down cakes?"
"*long pause while he stares at me as I work on the piece of fabric I'm sewing by hand*"
"Well, fuck."
"What do I look like, your 1950's housewife? The cheerful gal who hides her pain in a haze of vicodin and pineapple upside down cakes?"
"*long pause while he stares at me as I work on the piece of fabric I'm sewing by hand*"
"Well, fuck."
Friday
Flowers.
"I think I found you that stuff you wanted."
"You mean the Liberty of London bags and wellies? And the boxes?"
"Bags and boots. Couldn't find the boxes."
"Are the prints okay? I mean, do they look as vibrant in person as they do on the ads?"
"Whatever. The shit has flowers on it."
"What kind of flowers? I like the poppy prints but I'm not so fond of their purple prints."
".....I am lost in a Target store the size of a moderately sized shopping mall, I have only had a bagel to eat all day but I've lost at least two cups of sweat from my genital area alone in the past hour in this godforsaken desert heat, and I will never forgive you if you force me to find a sales associate and make me ask what type of fucking flowers I am looking at."
"I'm sure the flowers are lovely. Good eye. You're a hero. Much love. Thinking of you. Husband of the year award."
"I'm not going to another store to find the boxes."
"...well, shit."
"You mean the Liberty of London bags and wellies? And the boxes?"
"Bags and boots. Couldn't find the boxes."
"Are the prints okay? I mean, do they look as vibrant in person as they do on the ads?"
"Whatever. The shit has flowers on it."
"What kind of flowers? I like the poppy prints but I'm not so fond of their purple prints."
".....I am lost in a Target store the size of a moderately sized shopping mall, I have only had a bagel to eat all day but I've lost at least two cups of sweat from my genital area alone in the past hour in this godforsaken desert heat, and I will never forgive you if you force me to find a sales associate and make me ask what type of fucking flowers I am looking at."
"I'm sure the flowers are lovely. Good eye. You're a hero. Much love. Thinking of you. Husband of the year award."
"I'm not going to another store to find the boxes."
"...well, shit."
Thursday
Being Useful. Ish.
Things I have managed to do so far while B is out of the country:
Keep the tv turned to "Whatever the hell I want to watch".
Maintain the position of the bed sheets as they were intended....on the bed.
Save the neighbours from hearing "I DIDN'T CALL FOR THAT PASS" every three minutes between the hours of 4 pm and 5 pm (designated hockey time on the xbox)
Avoid vacuuming the end of the couch where the cats sleep.
Not run the bath after The Daily Show has aired.
Eat spicy foods non-stop.
Put up the art collection on the wall without hearing "Does it have to go THERE??"
Put all the photography manuals and books away.
Recharge all the remotes.
Things I have not managed to do so far while B is out of the country:
Figure out a way to train the cats to hack up their hairballs on B's pillow.
Figure out a way to train the cats to hack up their hairballs in B's shoes.
Drive myself to the doctors office to have my elbow x-rayed.
Convince my neighbours to not play their shitty eurotrash dance music at 8 am every single day.
Set up the Wii so it functions with all the other electronics.
Figure out B's system for determining whether a t-shirt is clean or not.
Wear pants.
Keep the tv turned to "Whatever the hell I want to watch".
Maintain the position of the bed sheets as they were intended....on the bed.
Save the neighbours from hearing "I DIDN'T CALL FOR THAT PASS" every three minutes between the hours of 4 pm and 5 pm (designated hockey time on the xbox)
Avoid vacuuming the end of the couch where the cats sleep.
Not run the bath after The Daily Show has aired.
Eat spicy foods non-stop.
Put up the art collection on the wall without hearing "Does it have to go THERE??"
Put all the photography manuals and books away.
Recharge all the remotes.
Things I have not managed to do so far while B is out of the country:
Figure out a way to train the cats to hack up their hairballs on B's pillow.
Figure out a way to train the cats to hack up their hairballs in B's shoes.
Drive myself to the doctors office to have my elbow x-rayed.
Convince my neighbours to not play their shitty eurotrash dance music at 8 am every single day.
Set up the Wii so it functions with all the other electronics.
Figure out B's system for determining whether a t-shirt is clean or not.
Wear pants.
Wednesday
Tuesday
Customs.
Today my husband is in another country. And it has nothing to do with me, apparently (I am aware that they say that the world doesn't revolve around me, but I think the science is bunk).
I am going to miss him even though I know that the only reason he and I are married is that he drew the short straw against the rest of humanity and now it is his sole responsibility to ensure I don't wreak my particular brand of havoc on the population. The last time he went out of town he left me little notes in various places around the house that said things like "I've dismantled your nanobots so stop looking for them" and "I've wired this place to blow if you even think about continuing your research into ninja-cats". He takes his job pretty seriously, I guess, and worries about me when he's gone. Like I'm some sort of chump.
Wait...who is the chump here? I AM NOT A CHUMP, MISTER, SO TAKE THAT BACK AND SOMETHING ABOUT RIDING A HORSE.
And that is the conversation I had in my head when I decided that tucking a post-it note into his passport demanding a tributary gift but specifically "No STD's, I have to draw the line somewhere" would be hilarious. Especially since he wouldn't see it....but the lovely people at US customs would.
And they did. They still let him in the country though (after embarrassing him, which is pure icing on the cake), so clearly I have to try harder next time.
I am going to miss him even though I know that the only reason he and I are married is that he drew the short straw against the rest of humanity and now it is his sole responsibility to ensure I don't wreak my particular brand of havoc on the population. The last time he went out of town he left me little notes in various places around the house that said things like "I've dismantled your nanobots so stop looking for them" and "I've wired this place to blow if you even think about continuing your research into ninja-cats". He takes his job pretty seriously, I guess, and worries about me when he's gone. Like I'm some sort of chump.
Wait...who is the chump here? I AM NOT A CHUMP, MISTER, SO TAKE THAT BACK AND SOMETHING ABOUT RIDING A HORSE.
And that is the conversation I had in my head when I decided that tucking a post-it note into his passport demanding a tributary gift but specifically "No STD's, I have to draw the line somewhere" would be hilarious. Especially since he wouldn't see it....but the lovely people at US customs would.
And they did. They still let him in the country though (after embarrassing him, which is pure icing on the cake), so clearly I have to try harder next time.
Friday
Schindler's List
"It is 11 o'clock at night. Do we really need to watch Schindler's List now?"
"…….what?"
"That's pretty heavy for this hour. I mean, you know I'll likely bawl through the entire program and then I'll have horrible dreams and wake up…..wait a minute….are all Jewish people able to do that?"
"This is the opening scene of X-Men. (long stare and equally long pause between us) You thought this was Schindler's List?"
"Mulligan."
"Wait. You thought MAGNETO was in Schindler's List?"
"This is my mulligan."
"No. No. Just, no."
"It is 11 o'clock at night. Do we really need to watch X-Men now?"
"We do if we never want to revisit this in front of people you know at any point in the future."
"I accept the terms of life mulligan. Proceed."
"…….what?"
"That's pretty heavy for this hour. I mean, you know I'll likely bawl through the entire program and then I'll have horrible dreams and wake up…..wait a minute….are all Jewish people able to do that?"
"This is the opening scene of X-Men. (long stare and equally long pause between us) You thought this was Schindler's List?"
"Mulligan."
"Wait. You thought MAGNETO was in Schindler's List?"
"This is my mulligan."
"No. No. Just, no."
"It is 11 o'clock at night. Do we really need to watch X-Men now?"
"We do if we never want to revisit this in front of people you know at any point in the future."
"I accept the terms of life mulligan. Proceed."
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