Catfoolery

I slept about 2 minutes 23 seconds last night, so I don't have it in me to write much.  But I can't let a day go by without making someone out there smile.  We're toying with the idea of getting a cat.  If someone could guarantee me some of these antics I'd be first in line at the shelter.  BTW - at about the 50 second mark the cat begins to demonstrate how I look and feel in my pants today.

This old (motherfucking) house

I had so much good stuff to tell you all.  And then my boiler broke on the coldest day of the year.  Let me also add that our air conditioning broke on the hottest day of the year this past summer (I swear I do not make this stuff up).  The "emergency" plumber is overbooked for the night.  Oxymoron anyone?

So now the husband is at Target buying another space heater that will cause me to lay awake all night sniffing the air for signs of smoke.

These types of things have happened so many times in the past 4 years since we moved here we have a name for it.  We call it being "Jerseyied."  Good times.

Girlyfriends

I have some updates for you a bit later, but in the meantime a little treat.  If you have PMS like me, grab at least a half a roll of TP. Then watch this.  Then find your closest, bestest girlyfriend and give her a lick or at least rub her tummy.

Cow butt basement

It's been an awesome night.  I don't even know where to start.  A little back story first.  Our basement smells like farts.  It has smelled like farts for quite some time now.  I remember posting on a town chat board asking the question "why does my basement smell like farts" over a year ago.  There were many possible explanations that seemed logical enough for me to continue to procrastinate around getting to the bottom of it (hee hee).  If you're a "responsible" home owner I'm sure you're asking yourself "how could they let that go on for so long?"  Because that's how we roll.

Fast forward to tonight after dinner.  Out of nowhere the kitchen sink stops draining.  Illogical step 1:  Get the plunger.  I plunge.  Husband plunges.  Bubbles, gunk no drainage.  Step 2: I take everything out from under the sink, get a bucket and start to dismantle the plumbing.  No clog found there.  Step 3: Call neighbors and borrow "snake".  No luck with "snake".  Step 4:  Call father and ask for advice.  Father informs about thing called "clean outs".  Here's where our story REALLY begins.

So my dad tells me about these clean out valves.  I follow the pipe from the kitchen sink to the basement and figure out where it goes.  I start to unscrew this valve and it immediately starts spraying the foulest, cow ass smelling water ever.  A normal human would just walk away at this point and leave it to the professionals.  I am not a normal human.  I have an illness.  It must be related to the face picking but it's about not leaving well enough alone.

So I get a recycling bin and a bucket and go to town.  I swear the methane coming out of this pipe could have powered a smallish South American nation for at least a week.  There is a FOUNTAIN of butt water spraying all over me, all over the basement.  I finally get enough pressure released that I can get my snake in the pipe (hee hee) and start cranking.  All this does is slosh more foulness everywhere and give me a giant blister on my thumb.  

So you may also be asking yourself, "don't you have a husband?"  "Where was he this whole time?"  I do have a husband.  And he possesses something that I don't have.  Common sense.  He stuck his head down in the basement just in time to stop me from shopvacking the water out of the pipe.  It was at this point I knew I needed to step away and let the professionals handle this.

I have now showered and scrubbed the top layer of my skin off with some Tone Sugar Glow.  We'll wait and see what food borne illness has seeped into the hundreds of small scrapes and cuts in my hands.  

The sick part is I'm actually happy to know why my basement has smelled like a cow's butt for so long.  I always did like Nancy Drew.

I've never wanted to be a motorcycle, until now

I'm not a one to have a lot of crushes on celebrities, but something about JT turns my crank.  He's funny, can act, dance, can kinda sing and is self deprecating.  I have to thank my friend (you know who you are) for bringing the following thing of beauty to my attention.  

I can't embed this video into my blog (they must know the power it has on almost 40 year old women and the damage that could be done to the internet) but I swear ladies, it's worth the extra click.

My own personal title for this video is Porn Schmorn.

Enjoy!

...and gettin' caught in the rain

A facebook exchange reminded me of one of my favorite sources of a good laugh - mistaken song lyrics.  Here are a few from my life, PLEASE share some from yours!

The year: 1977

The perp: Me

The mistaken lyric:  From Gloria Gaynor's hit "I will survive".

Weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with his thighs

Commentary:  The correct lyric was "goodbyes" so syllabically not a terrible match, but question to self - how does one hurt another using just their thighs?  Squeezing?  Certainly there would be a more effective method.

The year: 1979

The perp: My college roommate

The mistaken lyric: From Rupert Holmes "Escape" (The pina colada song)

If you like bean enchiladas, and gettin' caught in the rain

Commentary:  Of course the title of the song might not have been enough of a hint.  Personally, I'd rather not be caught in a small space with someone who just ate a bean enchilada.

The year: 2008

The perp: My four year old son

The mistaken lyric: From the B52's "The Deadbeat Club"

Where the dead feet come

Commentary:  Where the dead feet come makes about as much sense as We're the deadbeat club.  Plus he's as cute as a bees knees.

If you're not laughing.  Sing the lyrics out loud.  If you're still not laughing (at least at one of them), you must not have a pulse.

Deep thoughts.

I wish I could wear red lipstick without looking like Ronald McDonald.  Red lipstick is pretty.