www.stupidity.dum

Ha!  I found the snipping tool for one-click screenshots!  (and I have no life)

So I'm starting a new regular feature: stupid shit I find on the internet.  Don't expect it to be real regular. 

Item #1

So I want to see a black-and-white Bing Crosby movie about a priest and a nun and the Bible's Christmas story, and therefore I would like to see The Shawshank Redemption?!  Prison violence?  Seriously.

Item #2

Really, Netflix?  Really?!?  Because I watched a movie where the US got the shit bombed out of them and a crapload of people died and we got our asses sucked into World War II, you think I'll like MARMADUKE?!?!?  I don't even know what to say here.

Item #3 (no more Netflix, at least not today) Holy crap this is fuzzy, you don't have to read it, I'll kind of summarize below.

In a nutshell: a college football team is coming off a very lackluster season, lots of fans are disgruntled and/or losing interest, and now rumors are flying of massive recreational drug use on the team and a rash of suspensions to come.  Above is the announcement of the press conference to discuss this crap.  What does their website do?  Use this "exclusive access to the press conference" to try to sell an All-Access membership to the site!  Fucking brilliant!  Cuz I really wanna give a team a crapload of my hard-earned money so I can listen to the coach and AD babble about how their players are a bunch of coke-heads.

And then on top of that, it wasn't even exclusive access.  I watched the whole press conference live online on one of the local TV news channels' sites.  For free.  I guess what I'm saying is that the only thing dumber than the team's website using this scandal as a money-making opportunity, is anybody who was dumb enough to fall for it and whip out their credit card.

Although at least for now the rumors seem to have been blown WAY out of proportion.  And I admit that "my hard-earned money" is laughable... I haven't earned any money in like 3 years. 

Item #4

They're open 24 hours over two days?  Or they're in an alternate universe where there are 24 hours between 8 a.m. and 8 p.m.?  Or they aren't open the whole time between 8 a.m. and 8 p.m. so it ends up adding up to 24 hours total between Monday and Saturday and you have to guess which hours they're open?  I'm confused.

This one had a happy ending though, but it's a really long story so you should probably just quit reading here.  It is a lot more rampant stupidity though so I'm going to keep typing.  I have been wearing New Balance 609 shoes for YEARS.  I got my first pair long before Hitter and I were even dating, and we're closing in our 6th wedding anniversary.  Every 6 months to a year (depending on just how ambitious I've been at exercising) I'd go get a new pair... no worries, no effort, just get the exact same shoe and life was good.

And then it happened.  New Balance discontinued the 609.  And my life spiraled into a fiery pit of despair.  Not really, but I did have to put some thought into shoe shopping again and considering I'm not a very good female, I hate to shoe shop.  So... I went to the trusty internet and searched for "replacement for NB 609" and google said "get NB 623" and I'm all "thank you google!"  so I ordered shoes from the website (I've had bad luck with running all over the bi-county area to find a damned pair of shoes in stock) along with a pair of hiking shoes.  This was clear back in October... and I didn't open the box right away for some unfathomable reason.  And when I did... the hiking shoes were just right, the cross trainers were a freaking men's shoe!  I mean they said size 9 but they were significantly bigger than my feet.  So I'm all embarrassed that I was such a fucktard that I accidentally bought myself a men's shoe, and a bit pissy with NB that they didn't notice that I ordered two pairs of shoes in the same size but one was a women's and one was a men's but that was mostly cuz I wanted someone else to blame...

I procrastinated for about two months because I hate to ship things and didn't have a shipping box that a shoebox would fit in.  Finally I went "wait, I know there are New Balance stores, why don't I see if I can just return the shoes to the store?!"  so I go and sure enough, the guy is all "yep you can return them.  We won't pay for your shipping or anything, we'll just give you back the full retail price on the shoes..." and I looked at my receipt... the shoes had been on sale for 20% off and I got them with free shipping.  I started to say something and he kind of gave me a look like "seriously, don't make me do extra effort" so I shut up and then he asked if I'd just like to trade those in on the right shoes and I said sure I'd love to.  So he looks at the box and goes "wait, these are women's shoes" and I got even more confused and embarrassed, until he finally realized that the outside of the box said women's shoes but the shoes inside were men's.  And then he traded me straight-up for the shoes, even though the ones in the store weren't on 20% off sale.  It's like the shoes were paying me to take them!  Best shoe shopping trip EVER. 

I hope nobody is reading at this point, because seriously that was a dumb story.

It's all part of my Master Plan

The Master Life Plan has kind of taken on a life of its own.  The interesting thing for the first time in my life, when I tell people of a plan I've dreamed up, they've not only listened quite intently and been supportive, they've even had helpful advice and suggestions!  That NEVER happens to me.  Usually the best I can hope for is bewildered silence, but I really get criticism and mocking.

Go me!

It probably also helps that the people I've told do not include my family.  Idiots.  I'm not telling them until it's too late to change.  Heck I may never tell them.  No, seriously, can you divorce your family?  

I already discussed the helpfulness of two Best Friends in a previous post, and then this past week I went out with the ex-husband (or current boyfriend, depending on which version of the story you like) and he was full of even more support and helpful suggestions!  I found out I was pretty wrong about the Kelly Staffing Services company.  I always envisioned them as just placing like data entry and receptionist type people.  Nope, they have an entire scientific division.  And turns out there's an office right here in the city of Hillbilly Hell.  He said they're often looking for people to do just the random lab-rat work... and they get frustrated because the potential employees want to get Nobel-prize-winner's pay for lab-rat work.  Well that's not a problem with me, I really don't need much more pay than to cover the cost of the commute... and potentially any kind of dog-sitting for Muppy.

Plus then if it turns out that the job sucks, it'll just be a temporary position!

 That has potential.  I have a fear of commitment.

I haven't just been thinking either, I've been taking steps.  The first one I did all on my own was this past week I test-drove the commute to the place that's top of my list of potential full-time employers.  That may not seem like much, but I absolutely hate city commutes, so deciding if this one was acceptable was a big deal.  I told Hitter if I have to make that 2-hour drive every day, he's going to have to get me a new car or keep a chiropractor on retainer, because Marvin the Paranoid Car is a bit rough-riding for these hillbilly hell roads.  Other than the bumpity-bumps though, it really wasn't bad.  Yeah it's an hour long, but it's all through the country and no rush-hour traffic.  And I've never been one to shy away from a little driving.

Also Hitter has said he will talk to a guy he works with who has connections at the afore-mentioned top-of-the-list company to see if anyone would be willing to have a little chat with me and share with me what goes on there and what jobs might be available in the future and all that kind of insider info.  And last night Hitter went out with his friend I talked about yesterday and the friend is going to get me hooked up with the... umm... career counselors?... that they use at the corporate nightmare where Hitter and friend work.

Progress is slowly being made.  I still am no closer to knowing what I really want to do, and I'm still struggling with whether or not I really want to give up my free time.  I mean I really like being able to float in my pool all summer long!  And pack up and go visit friends without having to ask for vacation time.  And all that other fun stuff.  Plus I'm really feeling like I'll be abandoning Muppy.  I realize I can't put my life on hold for a dog, but at the same time he's 10 years old and won't be around much longer and has had a pretty rough life so I would really like to be able to make his remaining time happy.  And I'm not sure what I should do with him anyway if I were to go to work full-time.  He's an inside dog, he'd have a heart attack if I tried to leave him outside.  And I'm not likely to get a job that would pay well enough to justify day care every day (seriously, that shit is expensive)

So... that's my story.

I don't know if I've mentioned this before or not, but I have also pondered why exactly I sometimes am just crap-happy being a pampered housewife and sometimes I go into this dear-god-I-will-never-be-happy-without-a-job crisis.  I think I've at least mostly figured it out.  It happens to varying degrees almost every year shortly before Christmas, when I am dreading having to spend somewhere between 9 and 12 days living out of a suitcase and start pondering ways to get out of it.  While faking my own kidnapping would be a lot of fun, the responsible approach would be to have something respectable like a job that would require me to stick around here.  I mean the biggest reason the in-laws say they can't come here is because mother-in-law has to be at her job on Christmas day (church organist) so it seems like a job would be a good answer.  And the other is actually kind of related to that.  I start having these feelings that Hitter isn't respecting me and no matter what I do around here, it doesn't get better.  And since he is a corporate-ladder-climbing, power-hungry, money-grubbing dickhead, I figure the best way to get any respect from him would be to also have a job.

Which is actually kind of a terrible reason to get a job.

*sigh*

I think I just babbled with absolutely no point.  In fact, I think I kind of talked myself out of what I am talking myself into.  WTF, me?

So to make a long story short (too late!) my options are, in no particular order:

• get a full-time job, most likely at the place that is top-of-my-list
• get a part-time job
• get a temporary job, either full or part time
• go back to school (I'm still having fantasies about having an apartment at the college across the state, and completely expecting Hitter to NOT go for that)
• be content with being a pampered housewife

and I have been taking steps towards figuring out what I want to do.  So that's good.  And now, I have a headache so I think I'll go curl up on the couch and doze through a movie.

Winter!

Snow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Okay so my in-laws who live in Minnesoooooooooooota are less excited about this considering the roof-squashing amounts of snow they've gotten recently, but down here in this hillbilly hell it is a very exciting thing! 

pictured: the view out of my window

(just kidding)

...But Three Lefts Do!

A couple that Designated Hitter and I are friends with are divorcing.  Their divorce is going to turn me into an alcoholic.  They seem to be on a mission to spend every last dollar in their joint account before the divorce is filed.  Money is flowing out of that house like water.  (although why water is flowing out of the house remains a mystery.  you'd think that would be a major problem if your house is full of water)  And now the soon-to-be-ex-wife seems to think it's a brilliant idea to email me with ALL the gory details.

Anyway there's really no point in me making a post about this except that I had drawn this picture previously and it fits this situation quite nicely:

It's Beginning To Look a Lot Like Hell

(You were supposed to sing that title.  I know "Hell" and "Christmas" don't have the same number of syllables, but I have faith in you.  You can make it work)

Okay, the whole whopping two of you that occasionally read my blog already know most of the bullshit that surrounds my Christmas world.  I won't bore you with repetition.  Again.  Over and over again.

Moving on!

However, my sister in law the Prom Queen just inspired a new picture and I couldn't resist drawing and posting.  I don't know how everyone works a gift list, but in our family you make a big-ass list of a whole bunch of suggestions and let everyone kind of pick and choose what they want to give.  And if you don't get everything on your list, either you live your life without it or you go buy it for yourself after Christmas.  And life goes on.  Well, Prom Queen hasn't quite figured out that a wish list is just that, wishes and suggestions.  It is not a DEMAND LIST.  So she will get pissed off because she has to spend so much money on Christmas gifts because there are like 50 things on my mom's list that nobody else has gotten for her yet and they just HAVE to be purchased.  And apparently she has to do it because the rest of us are too selfish and dumb to get what mom wants.  There's a huge long story that goes with this which is full of boring details... ask me if you want to know.  But the moral of the story is, nobody can explain to her that wish lists are just suggestions, not demands.  I know my brother has tried to explain this to her before, and it just led to them having a big fight.  And I got this vision in my head:

(If you're confused by the head wound, see this.  I just had to leave it in)

Merry Christmas Everyone!  *sigh*

Get out of my head! Leave my brain alone!

After the last post, I did some real soul searching

imagine my surprise when I found I do have a soul!

and I came up with a plan for my life.  A happy plan.  Am I ditching my idiot family?  No *sigh*  Am I running away to a far-away land?  Also no *double sigh*  Am I taking control of my life and figuring out a way to do something I enjoy?  

 I'm not going into the boring details right now, but the short version is that the plan includes getting a job or going to school or both.  Or something entirely different.  But regardless of how stupid this paragraph is, I do have a plan.

Big props to Best Friend - Mountain Time and Best Friend - Eastern Time for all their love and support through this struggle I've been dealing with!  MT has endured countless pout/whine/cry emails and has helped me sort through the jumble, and just this past weekend I was visiting ET and she also listened to the story (although I'd already mostly organized it by the time I saw her) and she helped me put a little polish on it.  You two are freaking awesome.  And you need better nicknames.  Kudos to Designated Hitter too, regardless of how he really feels about it he has been saying all the right things and appears to be genuinely supportive.  Even if he's lying and a big fight comes later, those who know him know that even pretending to want what's best for me is a big deal coming from him.  And who knows, he might even be truly supportive.  I kinda think he is but I'm afraid to get my hopes too high.

I headed for home yesterday, and even though I was in Marvin the Paranoid Car I was still flying high.  (To the authorities: I was high on life.  Not meth)  I was so happy I almost didn't mind that it took me around 1.5 hours to go 12 miles at one point.  I was feeling good about myself and my life plan.  Got to the hotel last night, caught up with Hitter for a while, and went to bed.

And then the "fun" started.

I had this horrid dream... I am not entirely sure of the setting, there were a lot of weird bits and pieces that I can't figure out, that's pretty normal for me.  But the part that caused me to wake up in a cold sweat was a scene where my parents were yelling at me because I want to go back to school and they don't want me to.  Okay I don't even know how they truly feel about it, because I haven't discussed this with them and I'm not going to until after the plan is not only decided upon but is already set in motion.  If I go back to school, I may not even tell them until after classes have started.  If I get a job, HR will have already filed my paperwork before they know anything about it.  But that apparently doesn't stop them from yelling at me in my dreams.  

Okay in case that isn't abundantly clear, it's my brain, Designated Drinker poking it with a cattle prod, and Bran Flake doing Riverdance on it.  

In my dream, they were telling me I was stupid for thinking about going back to school and that I'd always said I was just perfectly happy being the dumb lab rat so why do I think giving that up and going to grad school is a good idea.  And lots of other things.  I woke up so mad at them for never being supportive of me.  Everything I ever want to do, try to do, dream about doing... they tell me my ideas are stupid and I should do what they want me to do.  And then they take things I've said in the past and use them against me.  

Can you divorce your parents?  

Of course, once I got my bearings (including remembering I was in a hotel) I realized how illogical that was... first and foremost I'm not giving up being a lab rat because I'm currently not a lab rat!  (sidebar: I use the term "lab rat" to mean me as an employee who is conducting the experiments in question, not actually being the test subject)  And secondly, to hell with them.  They never understand anything I want to do, so why should I expect them to now?  Hence my plan to not even mention The Plan until after it is already in progress and there's nothing they can do about it. 

And before anyone says "maybe that was just your subconscious trying to make sure your big plan is realistic" well I actually think I've been fairly realistic about the pros and cons of The Plan.  In fact, I'm kind of a pessimist these days.  But that really is the way my parents have treated me in the past.  The best approach I can take to that dream is that maybe it was my subconscious trying to prepare me for the insanity and make sure I'm determined to not say anything to those idiots until it's too late for them to voice their opinion.

Of course, that won't stop them.  A couple years ago Hitter and I bought a new house.  It may not be the perfect place, but it's pretty close to my dream house.  The first time the parental unit came to visit (long after we'd already closed, signed the mortgage, moved in, etc) and Flake is all "well how are you going to feel if the neighbors tear down all their trees and build a bunch of houses back here?"  Umm... what possible point does this comment serve?!  

1. you are already fully aware that it would piss me off

2. there isn't anything anyone can do about it now because we've already bought the house

3. fuck off!

So I must be prepared for the negativity and the control-freakiness and all the other crap that will come from those idiots. 

Hold out your hand so I can implant your career chip

I'm having a midlife crisis.  Again.  This is at least my fourth.  My first one was in first grade when I realized, as I was sitting at my desk bored out of my skull, that I was going to have to sit at a desk every damned day for the next 12+ years.  Then I think I had another one in 1988.  But honestly, the 80s should have caused everyone to freak out a little... have you seen that decade?  Whew.

This latest one though, it's a doozy.  At least with the previous ones, there was an end in sight.  Change was coming.  The 80s, by definition, couldn't last longer than 10 years.  (No, my crisis was not brought about by spandex ankle-lace leggings, blue eye shadow and AquaNet hair)  This time, I'm trapped.  No light at the end of the tunnel.  Just a long straight path of monotony.  Someone else's road that I have to follow.

You may be wondering where I'm going with this.  Honestly, I'm not sure.  There's a huge long story, mostly it revolves around there not being anything for me here in this strange combination of city-snob-plus-hillbilly-hell where I'm being forced to live.  So I've been trying to figure out what exactly I'd like to do, or how I could fix my situation.

I have long ago answered the question of what career path I prefer to follow.  I'm a science dork.  All the way to the core.

There ya go.  The real me.  Now here's the real problem: if I had a choice, I would NOT work in the corporate world.  They're all a bunch of regulation-following snobs.  Not only that, I only have a bachelor's degree and I've looked into the corporation Designated Hitter works for... you guessed it, I'm not qualified.  Every task that I would be qualified to do, they have automated.

The robots are taking over!

 

Okay, with that path being cut off, let's analyze a new way to go.  I love working in academia.  So I checked out a nearby college.  Their big science research area is medical, and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't fit in with them either.  And I don't have the right background.  Once again - not qualified.  I don't have a microbiology or genetics background.  The only stuff I'm qualified for there is "Requirements - High School Diploma or equivalent"  So... yay?

Honestly though I've never minded being on the edge of being qualified.  I've always said that I don't want to be the one creating the experiments and proposing the theories, I'm just crap-happy hiding in a back corner of a lab with a pipetman in my hand.  And I have been.  I've had jobs fitting that description twice and have loved them.  Dearly.  And would do them again in a heartbeat.

However, here in this hellhole, there is a severe lack of those jobs like I've done before.  (I think I'm talking in circles now, sorry about that)  And even if I did get all sorts of qualified and land a job with the medical geniuses, there would still be an issue of having to deal with a horrendous commute.

Moral of story: I have no idea what to do.  I'm stuck in this cow-town because of Hitter, and there's nothing for me to do here.

But, I recently did some more deep-soul-searching.  I got to thinking about my feelings of not wanting to be the one developing experiments.  Why do I feel that way?  I naturally find myself analyzing other people's theories, developing other ways of looking at things, and so on.  I mean seriously, I watch Mythbusters and scream at the TV because of all the holes in their theories and yell at them about how they should be doing it.  Hitter laughs at me.

And then it came to me.  Rebellion.  (no, it's not about sex this time)  I remember something that happened when I was still in college, I think I was maybe on my second internship but hadn't yet graduated and definitely didn't have anything lined up for after school.  I was back in the hick town I grew up in, talking to a guy that was an old acquaintance of the parental unit.  Turns out Designated Drinker had been telling everyone in hick town that I not only had a full-time job lined up for when I graduated in another year and half, but that I was going to be the next brilliant inventor for the giant corporation I was interning with.  And I replied with "oh hell no!"

But... what if...

What if I really could do it, and what if I would really enjoy it?  What if I really am brilliant?  Ha ha ha ha ha you know what I mean.  Seriously though, what if I should be a lead scientific researcher and I'm not doing it because I want to tell my father to go to hell?  What if I should be finding the cure for cancer, AIDS, lactose intolerance, paper cuts, and salmonella poisoning?  (quite a combo, huh?  for reference, see the previous food fight) What if I should be winning a Nobel prize?

Not shown: science groupies.  Also the Easter Bunny and other fictional creatures.

What if I should go back to college, get a PhD in biomedical engineering or something.  Okay, enough fantasizing.  But a Masters in chemistry doesn't sound so bad.  Except I'd still run into the problem of being in this stupid place with nothing to do.  I don't want to work in Corporate America, and I don't want to commute to the college.  I mean I would go do one of those things if we were suddenly poor and in fear of losing the house or something like that.  But I've done enough stupid piddly jobs and volunteer gigs since getting married, I hated them all and am not looking forward to something else I'll dislike if I don't have to.

*sigh*

And what if I'm only resisting working because of what a workaholic Hitter is?  More rebellion.  

I just want to take a deep breath and tell the whole world 

But I can't.  I'm trapped here. 

It's all pink...

Disclaimer: I am not intending to, in any way, diminish the seriousness of breast cancer or suggest that we shouldn't be aware of it.  Read on...

I've had it with all things Pink.  I refused to participate in those stupid little "let's make the men wonder what the hell we're talking about" games on Facebook that have very little to do with preventing or treating cancer (at least this year's... last year's was at least about bras.  but this year... seriously... purses?  my favorite was "I don't carry a purse, but I like to fuck in the shower") but aside from random childishness, what really pisses me off is that breast cancer awareness gets SOOOOOO much attention, and other very real causes get practically nothing.

Did you know that October is also Domestic Violence Awareness month?  I don't see everything being covered in bruise-covered ribbons (oooooh I'm going to hell for that one) Why is it everyone's so worried about the boobies but nobody seems to care about the fact that 1 in 4 people will be a victim of domestic violence at some point in their life? 

A couple years ago, I heard a rumor that some St Louians were trying to get the powers-that-be to light up the Arch with pink lights in October.  Why stop there, why not put a nipple on it?!

I would say they should build a second St Louis Boob, but it is cancer awareness after all...

Nobody ever suggested lighting up landmarks in recognition of the rampant drug problem in Missouri, the meth capital of the country.  

What finally put me over the edge though, was last Sunday when I flipped to an NFL game briefly.  I do not follow the NFL at all, which comes as a huge surprise to people who know how obsessed I am with college football.  Imagine my surprise when I saw all these big burly testosterone-overloaded men prancing around the gridiron with pink shoes and pink arm bands and whatnot.  Seriously.  Why is the NFL so into breast cancer awareness, but you never see them getting all excited about prostate cancer awareness?  (would that be a brown ribbon?!)  1. the NFL is watched by way more men than women, and 2. I'm pretty sure there are a hell of a lot more women feeling their chests for errant lumps than there are men shoving fingers up their asses to see if their prostate is still normal.

*image deleted  

Shouldn't we be promoting men's health on an event where men are the captive audience?  Like men need any more excuses to be grabbing our chests.  *sigh*  

Oooooh I know, maybe they should do Testicular Cancer Awareness... 

hee hee... balls... blue ribbon...

Like I said, I am not against the prevention and treatment of breast cancer.  I just think it sucks that some marketing genius has managed to take the Pink movement to pop-star status, while so many other serious concerns are completely ignored.   

Oh, giant squirrel balls reminded me: In case anyone is keeping score, the final tally of dead squirrels in the pool for 2010 was 8.   Five fished out of the skimmer basket, two free-floating on the surface of the water, and one had sunk to the bottom.  They've all been removed and chucked into the woods, and the pool has now been winterized..... thank goodness!

Wow. Just Wow.

A couple weeks ago I was back home, just for the weekend.  Friday night I went out to dinner with the parental unit.  They go out to dinner every Friday to the same place with the same group of friends (well, however many of them are available on the Friday in question)

This place is a local restaurant and has had a lot of issues and changes over the years.  It hit another massive low about a month ago, and was starting the upswing when I was there.  This story isn't about anything massive or disastrous.  It's about ranch dressing.

The ranch dressing they've served for years now was pretty awful.  We're talking the flavor of generic dressing 3 weeks past it's expiration date.  But if you dump a bunch of black pepper into it, it's at least edible.  Well, as we're sitting there eating, Bran Flake's friend sitting next to her had ordered a salad with ranch dressing... and Flake stopped mid-story and spun around and goes "wow, that dressing actually smells good!"  So she gets to talking to the lady that has taken over kitchen managerial duties, and asks if it's a new ranch dressing.  Manager lady goes "yep, I started making it myself" and Flake goes "I didn't know you could make ranch dressing"

W.
T.
F.

Where the hell does she think ranch dressing comes from?  Does she think it grows wild?  And they built a ranch in the Hidden Valley, where migrant workers harvest it for 4 cents a month?

not shown: migrant workers, reality

Seriously.  I really want to know where she thought it comes from.  

And to top it off, I was telling her about a friend's dad who had Alzheimer's really bad.  Really really bad.  And Flake's all "I need to figure out how to ward off Alzheimer's" and I said "use your brain.  No, seriously, exercise the gray matter.  Think, reason, learn, keep those synapses firing.  Best way to ward off Alzheimer's" and Flake, in all seriousness, goes "oh well then I'll be good because I'm learning all the time!"  Somehow that wasn't what I meant.  I should have emphasized the "reason" part.  And added "logic".  Flake has zero capabilities for logic.  And even if she does "learn" something (i.e., that you can make ranch dressing) she doesn't retain it.  I bet if I emailed her a recipe right now for making your own ranch dressing, she wouldn't have a clue why I was doing it because she's already forgotten the above event ever happened.  

P.S. I don't want anyone to be insulted by this post, if you hadn't previously considered the making of ranch dressing, don't take it personally.  Unless of course you would have, when presented with a recipe for ranch dressing, still not believed that it could be made.  Because it grows on trees in the Hidden Valley.   

Men Are Stupid

Scene: Out by my pool.

Act One: May 20, 2010.  A dead squirrel laying balls-up in the skimmer basket of my pool.

Act Two: yesterday.  Yet another dead squirrel in my skimmer basket.  Also with giant balls. 

Logically:

1. Two squirrels get sucked into the skimmer basket of my pool and die
2. Both squirrels are male.
3. Ergo, all men are stupid. 

I'm not quite sure why I made a play and then did a scientific analysis of it.  Weird.  You should expect that out of me by now. 

Let's go Trap Shooting

That's me, as a mime, in a box.  I feel trapped.

I'm trapped in a somewhat miserable marriage.  Although right now I'm feeling a little less trapped because I've decided that Designated Hitter is less annoying than my idiot family, and he was really sweet to me last night.  History tells me that the sweetness won't last though, much like the sugary crystals on the outside of a sour gummy worm.  He keeps telling me he's turning over a new leaf.  I'm not holding my breath.

I'm trapped by my idiot family too.  But what can I do?  I can't just quit seeing them, and I definitely can't tell them they're all a bunch of fucktards.  So I'm trapped.

Everyone I know puts me down, and tells me they love me.  They insult me, and tell me they love me.  They humiliate me in public, and tell me they love me.

That was a lie, only the people that tell me they love me treat me like that.  My friends (who might say "love ya" but not in the husband or family kind of way) do not put me down or insult me or humiliate me or ridicule me or make me feel ashamed of myself.

I don't know what love is anymore.  And I am trapped by people who guilt me into saying that I love them.

I wish I could go into the Witness Protection Program.  When I say I want to disappear, I don't mean I just want to move away.  I mean I want to leave no trace.  There was a time, just a couple years ago, when I literally had over $600 in cash hiding in my closet, just in case I ever got to the point where I really had to get out and didn't want anyone to be able to find me for a while.  No paper trail, yanno.  Then Hitter got all nice, and I didn't see my family for a while, and I blew all $600 on myself.  I wish I had the money back.

I can't just move away but still have people know where I am.  Mostly I can't let my idiot family know where I am.  They'll hunt me down, and make life even worse for me if I try to get away.  And even though I'm currently feeling a little more friendly towards Hitter, I'm still trapped with the family because of him.  As long as I'm married to this man, I have to continue to see my family.  Dammit. 

I'm trapped.  And I wish I could start shooting people.  Don't worry, I won't really.  I just kinda wish I could.

Sam & Ella, who are they?

It's time for Salmonella Chicken, round two.  Designated Hitter thought he'd try putting another chicken on his fancy dancy smoker grill thingiemahooper.  (technical term)

He managed to not let the thing run out of hampester-shit-pellets this time.  And he didn't go away and forget about it.  However, we did get an answer to the "did he use the meat thermometer correctly" question.  Short answer: no.  Long answer: he never does.  I swear to god he stuck the probe of the thermometer into the chicken's BACK.  And like maybe a quarter inch in.

It's done!

Fuck.

I'm gonna die.

On a Wing and a Prayer

I usually like to listen to The Bob and Tom Show in the mornings.  Usually.  Somewhere around the 500th replay of the Camel Toe song (this week) it gets a bit monotonous, but for the most part I like it.  Okay so the overplay of that song was like 8 years ago, but bear with me.  (wait, I should clarify.  "I like it" meant the show, not the Camel Toe song.  fuck that)

Sometimes I get a bit huffy when they get on their high-horses about shit.  For instance, today they were talking about a story where someone (a person?  group?  I don't know) is suggesting "family sections" on airplanes.  I love this idea.  Kristi started in with the whole "NO!  You can't do that!  They can't do that.  Kids are wonderful!"  blah blah blah.  I'm in my car driving back from the grocery store and all I was getting so pissed off.  She may think that her kids are perfect and there are rainbows and unicorns and tra la la, but most kids are assholes.  (no offense if you have kids and they aren't assholes.  I'm making a sweeping generalization here)  (and for some reason I'm guessing her kids are assholes)

Front view, side view.  Two views.  Check!  No check, cash only (sorry, M*A*S*H quote there) 

Complete with Flying Cheerios in various degrees of mastication

And yes that's Designated Hitter in the first pic, reading a paper, ignoring me, with his elbow in my ribs

I hate flying

 The more I think about this, the more I like the family section idea.  And I have a way to put it into place.  Stick all the parents and kids at the back of the plane.  No wait, hear me out.  First of all, parents traveling with small children are allowed to board the plane first, right?  And when the rest of us uninteresting people board, we start at the back of the plane, right?  Well then we can kill two birds with one stone, and have the parents with the kids board the plane first and send their asses to the back.  Secondly, they'll be close to the bathroom.  There's a good plan.  Third, they're always such a pain in the ass when getting off the plane cuz they stand around forever packing up all the toys and games and crap and organizing their little anklebiters and slowing the rest of us down so if they're at the back of the plane, the rest of us can get off first while they're doing the repacking and whatnot.  And finally, the kids can just kick other kids' seats.  Or other parents (who would be completely oblivious to what their children were doing if they were sitting next to me)  

Now I realize it wouldn't block sound, so when they got to screaming we would all still hear it, but at least it would be from a bit of a distance instead of directly into my ear from point-blank range.  And maybe if bad parents were surrounded by other people's asshole children, they'd start to realize that their children are assholes too.  I doubt it, but it's worth a shot.  

I am totally in favor of family sections on airplanes.  Or maybe just don't ever make me fly anywhere again.  At least not commercial flights, my one experience on a private jet was freaking awesome.  Except that the private jet was owned by an asshole, but I tolerated him for the private flight to Cabo.  Totally worth it.  I should get my pilot's license and get a plane.  Oh if only I was independently wealthy.  *sigh* 

And I ran, I ran so far away

Dear god I just quoted A Flock of Seagulls.  *hangs head in shame*

Yep I ran away from home last night.  I am thirty... almost-damned three... years old, and I ran away from home.

As for the reason, well, it's even dumber.  I was trying to clean up the house some, because we're having company today.  I was also trying to do laundry, because I didn't want to have wet clothes hanging all over the house to dry when company was here so I had to do it yesterday.  I guess I should explain.  Designated Hitter doesn't let me dry anything except socks and underwear.  Pants, shorts, shirts, even grubby working-in-the-yard t-shirts have to be hung to dry.  Seriously.  He has this one shirt he got from a small seed company.  If I had a nickel for every time he has bitched about what a bunch of assholes this seed company was, I could move out and support myself just on the interest alone.  He wears this shirt when he gets all sweaty and muddy and grassy... and then he throws it in the washer, and then that shirt is too valuable to throw in the dryer.  It must be carefully hung up to dry.  Yanno so it doesn't shrink.  That shirt could be the cause of our divorce.

Well, since we moved to the country and got ourselves a septic system, I can't use liquid fabric softener in the washer anymore cuz it fucks up the decomposition of the shit in the septic tank (seriously, did anyone want to know that?!  I didn't) so in order to make our clothes not all stiff and wrinkly and scratchy, I've been tossing them into the dryer for about 12 minutes with a dryer sheet and then taking them out and hanging them to finish drying.  They aren't in the dryer long enough to shrink, but they do soften up and de-wrinkle in that time.

So, I'm doing laundry yesterday.  And I'm cleaning house.  First load of laundry comes out of the washer and goes into the dryer.  Kitchen timer set for 12 minutes.  I go to vacuum.  I'm off in the bedroom vacuuming when the timer goes off, I don't hear it.  Apparently timer shuts itself off after a bit, because when I turn vacuum off the house is silent.  I didn't think a think of it, went on to do some other things, and like 45 minutes later went "oh shit!"  I ran into the laundry room and yep, there was the dryer still tumbling away with a load of dark clothes inside, fully dry.  I take everything out and hang it all up and mostly I'm not too terribly worried cuz Hitter was outside and I've dried a few shirts all the way before and he's never noticed, but then I pull out a pair of blue dress pants.  *sigh*  I flipped 'em upside down and hung them up like I'm supposed to, and then compared them to two pair of khaki colored pants that were already hanging there... and they were somewhat shorter.

I panicked.

I didn't have the courage to tell Hitter what I did.  I couldn't handle the coming lecture and/or look of disappointment.  Just didn't have it in me.  He was outside mowing lawn at the time and I saw him get in the truck and drive off (I suspect he was fulfilling Gas Fairy duties) so I wrote a note that explained the vacuuming and the timer and the short pants and I apologized like 5 times and twice swore it was an accident, and I loaded Muppy up in Marvin (ooooh I haven't explained Marvin yet... that's my car) and took off.  Didn't know where I was going, just left.  Unfortunately I met Hitter in the driveway, he pulled over (one-lane-driveway) and unrolled his window to talk to me, and I didn't even look him in the eyes, just raced past and took off.

He texted me and said he wasn't mad, please come back.  I drove for a while, and then eventually texted him back and said I couldn't handle the disappointment either.  He wrote me back and said something about accidents happen, just come back.  I drove for a while longer.  Then I realized I was lost.  Okay our roads around here do NOT go straight.  I'm not originally from this state, but my parents did go to college here and their best friends are from here too (not here as in this town, here as in this state) so Designated Drinker has a lot of first-hand knowledge of what goes on around here.  And he's always said the way our DOT makes new roads is to just find the nearest hillbilly and put him in a blacktopper machine with a case of beer and tell him to drive around for a while.  If there's a tree, go around it.

I was seriously lost.  Thank goodness the sun was still up because I knew I'd left home heading west so as long as I kept the sun behind me, I should eventually end up somewhere near home.  Or in a river.  Either way, I'd know where I was then.

I'm still a little twitchy, I cried over supper last night.  Hitter gets all "but I'm trying to get better and not fly off the handle" and I tell him that I've been hurt so bad so many times that I don't trust him anymore.  The whole episode with the root beer on vacation kind of put me over the edge.  Oh crap I didn't tell that story either.  Well, short version, I accidentally sprayed root beer on one cabinet and a bit on the floor of the kitchen in the cabin his sister rents for the week.  RENTS, not owns.  B.F.D.  I wiped it up, Sis was all "no big deal", Hitter comes unglued on me like I'd burned the place down and killed half his family in the process.  Over a little root beer on the floor.  Good lord.  Everything's a catastrophe with that man.  And I'm at the end of my rope.  *sigh*

Sorry this wasn't funny and didn't have any cute pictures.  I'm not feeling very funny or cute right now but I needed to vent this shit.

Reading is FUNdamental, this title is LAME

Let's just get this out in the open right now.

Okay I feel better.  Except not really.

As previously mentioned I got all sorts of hooked on the Harry Potter series.  I am one of those kinds of dorks that can re-read a series of books over and over and over.  My all time favorite (although HP might be giving them a run for their money) is the Anne of Green Gables series and I get that set out probably once every year or two and read them all, start-to-finish.  Well I had to give the HP books back to Opie but I really didn't feel I was done reading them yet, so I bought the paperback box set.  $49.95 at amazon.com and free super saver shipping.  

I told Designated Hitter last night that I had done this (yanno, after it was not only ordered, but arrived and I'd already re-read two of them)  He rolled his eyes and laughed at me.  I told him to fuck off.

How is me buying a set of books any different than the approximately DOZEN magazines he gets every month?  Let's analyze.  He gets Beef Magazine, Successful Farming, Top Producer, Farm Industry News, Reader's Digest, Corn & Soybean Digest, a conservationist magazine, Farm Journal, National Geographic, Hay & Forage Grower, plus he gets the weekly Farmer Today paper and gets the local newspaper delivered three days a week.  I'll grant you a few of those are free publications, but still.  Seriously.  I guarantee you he spends way more than $50 a year in magazine subscriptions.  And this is the only major book purchase I've made since we got married 5.5 years ago.  I've picked up the occasional cheap paperback when we've been traveling, and he did buy me a big book for my birthday one year, but that's it.

And to top it off, earlier this summer I bought new office furniture.  We are sharing the home office, and I think we're okay on sharing the room but sharing a desk really wasn't working.  I cleaned out all the old filing cabinets and was putting stuff into the new ones... I won't go into all the details of the cringe-inducing shit I found, but the relevant-to-this-post discovery was a Reader's Digest from July of 2008 that was STILL IN THE SHRINK-WRAP!  It was two years old and he'd never read it.  At least I'm reading the books I bought.  And will re-read over time.  I mean if you could see my Anne books, they're really well worn. 

I'm just sick of people telling me I'm wrong, criticizing me for what I like, and telling me how I should feel.  I know how I should feel.  Leave me the hell alone.  And fuck off.

The Ultimate in One-Stop-Shopping

Designated Hitter and I are on vacation this week.  Fishing vacation.  Last night we went for a little drive, and I was super pissed I didn't have the camera along because I saw this sign:

That's the best Dairy Queen ever.  Food, ice cream, booze, and bait.

So get this.  We're staying in this little bitty cabin that was built in the 19-teens.  The doors and windows don't really line up with the door/window frames anymore.  I was trying to lock the door but broke the key off in the lock because of how much the door doesn't line up anymore.  When it rains we just kind of pull the windows towards the cabin but they don't actually close all the way.  Plus the glass is all warpy too.  And there's a total funhouse mirror in the bedroom.  It makes me look like a retarded midget.  I'm probably going to hell for saying "retarded midget" but that's okay with me.  Anyway, back to the cabin.  The floor slopes in a lot of different directions.  No air conditioning, no tv.  We do have electricity thank goodness.  And running water.  A real kitchen and a functional indoor bathroom and everything.  But that's kind of the end of the amenities.  Except we have wi-fi.  I love the digital age.

And a bug bit me on the foot and I'm pretty sure I'm dying.  The bite area swelled up as big around as a silver dollar, and it doesn't just itch - it hurts!  And it's turning purple.  I think I have blood poisoning.  Two nights ago I was laying in bed sweating, wondering if I was dying.  Then I remembered it was like 85 degrees out and humid and we have no air conditioning.  Hitter thinks I'm a hypochondriac.  Okay so I am, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't be sympathetic when my foot turns gangrene and has to be cut off. 

Only a few more days in the north woods, then back to reality.  *sigh*

We Interrupt This Program

With apologies, we interrupt this program to bring you the following emergency Public Service Announcement:

Don't ever have a PMS-induced salt-craving binge with Salt & Vinegar Lays.  (or probably any salt and vinegar chips) 

We now return you to your regular scheduled programming.  Thank you.

Hypocrites are Awesome

Let me just get this out in the open right now: yes I am aware that I have my moments of hypocrisy.  Everyone does.  I try to keep it in check as much as possible, but it happens.  Anyone who says that they are never a hypocrite is completely full of shit.  In fact, people who think they are never hypocrites are probably the worst.  Crap, I think I just made myself the worst there.  Okay I suck.

But here's the worst kind of hypocrisy - the kind against me!

Wait, umm, no.

Maybe.

I don't know.

Designated Hitter's sister is an interesting character.  Thankfully she likes me.  However, she's one of those people where you always wonder if she really likes you, and even if she does like you is she talking crap about you behind your back.  You should hear the way she talks about her own kids and her husband.

Anyway, I have never ever heard her say anything good ever about her father-in-law.  Ever.  Even in front of her husband, she's badmouthing him.  Well he passed away recently, and now Sis is just going on and on and on about how awful it is and thanks for all the support and love and prayers during this very awful time and how sad it is that he's gone and yadda yadda.  I know there's the whole "don't speak ill of the dead" thing, and it probably is really sad for her husband and kids, but seriously.  You made it pretty blatantly obvious that you didn't like the guy.  Don't pretend now that he was your best buddy.

There's a lot more in that family that makes me twitch.  Tons of stuff that makes me wonder what they say about me behind my back.  Kind of long stories that are difficult to explain (and even just this little story was starting to drive me nuts with pronouns) but I just had to vent about that.  Thank you, that'll be all.

It's a Dog's Life

The Prom Queen has issues.  Mostly she has "I don't need to learn anything because I already know everything" issues.  I once got in an argument with her because she was convinced that she had a lobotomy.

this seems unnecessary for a pregnancy... 

on second thought.....

After a lengthy discussion, we finally figured out she was trying to say "phlebotomy" but even when a dozen people were confirming my definition of the two words, she still wouldn't believe me.  So yanno, maybe she did have a lobotomy.  Or maybe she needs one.   

So the latest issue... she's a veterinary assistant.  She went to school to learn things about working with animals in a vet clinic.  And she is working in a vet clinic.  Somehow she has never heard that onions are bad for dogs.  My vet says so, my friend's vet says so, and Muppy projectile-vomits for three days if he gets ahold of food with onions in it.  He turns into the Puke-Me-Poop-You from "Attack of the Killer App" (pretty awful Futurama episode, but that line made me laugh)  But when I said that I can't let Muppy eat anything with onions, Prom Queen goes "oh don't believe all that shit".  Okay, I won't listen to my vet.  Or other vets.  (sidebar - the vet she works for is a pretty nice guy, and he's the only vet in our little podunk town, but he's kind of an idiot.  he has no common sense when it comes to animals.  even with Prom Queen working at the vet clinic, Buffalo Bill calls the vet in the next town over whenever he needs anything done with our livestock.  go figure) 

She drives me nuts.  I mean she's only 25 and yet she's convinced she knows everything.  She seriously still acts like a high schooler. 

Inboxers and Briefs

Hotmail hates me.  Last night I spent about a half an hour writing an email to Buffalo Bill.  Long story, but the short version is I had an Excel file full of information he needed and he doesn't have Excel and he didn't need everything in the file anyway so I just wrote up what he needed.  I wanted to go to bed but I'd promised him I'd have it to him yesterday.  Designated Hitter was being his eternally helpful self [/sarcasm] and kept going on about how "well you should be able to imbed the Excel sheet into an email, I mean you can in Outlook" and I had to repeatedly remind him that I'm still using Hotmail (don't judge me.  well, I mean people who aren't Best Friend shouldn't judge me.  people who use grown-up email systems, and who aren't reading my blog.  wait, umm, moving on)  Then this morning I wake up, log into my email, and Hotmail went and added the ability to imbed Excel into emails!  8 fucking hours after I needed it!

 
But that isn't really why I'm making this post.

Here's a little background - I hate clutter.  Hate it.  Designated Hitter is a packrat, and this issue has been a big problem for us for a long time.

However, I have one place where I am apparently also a clutterhound.  My email inbox.  I currently have over 5000 emails in my inbox.  I think I need an intervention. 

I'm sorting and deleting.  Mostly deleting, but there are some things I wanted to save (hence the reason I'd kept EVERYTHING.  cuz I'm smart like that)  I am making new inbox folders.

 These make so much more sense to me than the "normal" approach I'd taken 10 years ago... and never used.  However this emergency sort-and-file could take months.  I need beer.

The Muggle Speaks

As Best Friend (and currently still my only reader) is fully aware, I have, at long last, joined the ranks of those who love the Harry Potter books.  It's not that I didn't love them before, I just hadn't read them.  At first I didn't think I would like them, and then I was kind of turned off by all the hoopla (I have this attitude where I tend to hate anything that everyone else loves.  Also known as my rebellious behavior disorder) but I finally let curiosity take over.

I started reading over the 4th of July weekend.  Picked up the first book at approximately 8:00 pm Saturday night... and refused to quit reading until I finished it.

yes 1:00 a.m. is a big deal to me, I'm a morning person

Had the second book done before lunch on Sunday.  Tried to finish the third one yet Sunday night but

that's a flashlight up by my head, get your mind out of the gutter

I had finished the fifth book four days after I picked up the first one.  And then I was stuck.  My boyfriend had lent me books 1-5 but told me I had to come back for the last two.  Why he felt compelled to trick me into coming back, I'll never know.  Of course I'll gladly see him again, even without bribes.  Well, we did go for quite a while without seeing each other over the last couple years... but... okay yeah maybe he did have a good idea.  Whatever.  Not the point of this post.

I still don't have books 6 & 7 yet, but over the weekend ABC Family channel showed the first 5 movies.  I missed most of the first one... just caught the last half hour or so.  And Order of the Phoenix is recording right now as I type.  But I saw all of 2, 3 and 4.  I had told Best Friend last week I wanted to watch at least one of the movies, mostly because I wanted to see what Quidditch looks like (I had a pretty good idea in my head from the descriptions in the books but wanted to see how they did it in the movies) and I really wanted to get the pronunciation of Hermione firmly cemented in my head!  Anyway, Best Friend wanted to know what I thought of the movies, and rather than cluttering up her inbox and having an un-updated blog, I figured I'd do it this way.

Wow...

I hope I never do that again.

Now... on to the review!

Quidditch was pretty much what I was figuring.  Although as an avid sports lover, I was kind of disappointed they didn't show more of the game itself.  Maybe I missed that by missing the first movie... it's first in line in my Netflix Queue, hopefully by Friday.

And I knew how to pronounce Hermione, my brain just didn't like to play along.  But now I think it's pretty well implanted in the gray matter.

As for everything else... I am SO glad that the movies pretty much stuck to the plots of the books.  I woulda been so pissed if they'd gone on some great adventure that was not only not in the books but didn't even fit with the storyline.  Thank goodness for that!  They obviously did have to skip a lot of stuff because seriously how can you cram a 900 page book into a 2 hour movie?  Yeah.  Also, I'm pretty sure this is a big reason for not showing like an entire Quidditch match.  Not to mention I think flying broomsticks are not real so that would have been a challenge too.  Maybe they are real and I'm just a stupid Muggle.  Wait, I'm getting off topic.  Anyway, while I totally understand that they had to cut some stuff, there were a few places where I was left feeling that they had glossed over or completely ignored something I felt was pretty important.  And worse yet, there was at least one time where I felt like they left a pretty stinkin big plot hole.  Don't ask, I don't remember what it was now.  If I think of it, I'll post an update.

Update - I know somewhere that I feel like they completely skipped over some important plot points.  See film: The Order of the Phoenix.  See part: all.  No, really.  There were so many places that I was just like "wait a minute, how the hell did we get here?" and if I hadn't read the book I wouldn't have understood why the characters were behaving as they were.  This movie was probably the most disappointing of them all so far. 

Okay, here's the thing that drove me the most nuts out of it all though.  They did point out that the young wizards weren't supposed to do magic outside of Hogwarts.  Uncle Vernon was fully aware of it, Harry got in trouble for it, etc.  And yet when Harry was doing his middle-of-the-night homework at the Muggle house, he was reading by wand light and they even made a big deal out of it with him having to re-light it every 3 seconds.  There are other times when wands illuminate and they stay lit, so what was with the constant repeating of the Lumos?  Another example was after Harry's first Floo ride and his glasses broke, Hermione was the one to fix them.  WTF?  Seriously.  So what, you can't do magic when it lends itself to a storyline but it's okay when it serves to remind stupid moron moviegoers that this is a movie about magic?  I mean in the books, Harry was doing his homework by flashlight and one of the Weasley parents fixed his glasses.

Although there is even a little confusion on that topic in the books, in my opinion.  Hermione said she'd done some charms at home before the start of their first year.  Of course she probably didn't know the rules yet then... but still.  And I'm pretty certain the Weasley twins were doing all sorts of shit, with their joke stuff.

But I'm getting nit-picky.

For the most part I liked the movies.  Like I said, thankfully they stuck to the storylines.  And I think they did a good job of casting the actors.  There weren't really any times where I was seriously all "WTF, that person looks/acts NOTHING like they should" and going back and rereading now after the movies is actually a little easier because I have a picture of the characters in my head.  (from my somewhat disjointed and incomplete viewings I don't really feel qualified to comment on old Dumbledore vs new Dumbledore)  And the special effects were good too, not nearly as hokey as they could have been! 

All in all I like books better than movies though.  Not just here, but always.  And here.

Exit Stage Left

Oy.  I went out with a friend today for lunch/FAC.  I told her that I went to see Wicked recently.  She goes "oh really, who is in it?"

................

What?  No, really, yanno the musical?  Live theater?  Ever heard of it?  Nobody "famous" is in it.  I didn't react like this, I just said "I dunno... it was a musical" and then she starts talking about that new Karate Kid movie and what a great actor Will and Jada Smith's kid is. 

I try to not be a snob, but seriously.

Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans

I'll be the first one to admit I have very little going on in my life.  I don't have a real job, I don't have kids, I'm not caring for an elderly relative or doing a crapload of volunteer work or anything.  And yet somehow I manage to always be saying "I didn't have time to get everything done I wanted to"  I'm not sure if that's because I really am busy or if it's because I do a lot of stuff that is stupid and pointless while I procrastinate the important things or if I just over-schedule myself. 

My crowning glory right now is that I was in my pool 7 days in a row.  No, not 24-7.  That would have made pruny fingers

the least of my worries.  But I did dip at least once each day for 7 days.  That streak came to an end today.  I opted for a 3 hour nap instead. 

Company was fun, especially the non-pedophile high school girls weekend.  The time with Bran Flake wasn't even all that bad.  She's a little more active than I am, and we didn't do a whole lot of entertainment stuff, but it wasn't bad.  Oh, except for one thing.  One of the high school friends is pregnant... she announced it here... so I emailed Flake (who earned her flaky nickname) and she got all excited and emailed a congratulations note TO THE WRONG GRANDMOTHER-TO-BE.  *sigh*  And not even like she accidentally just put in the wrong email address.  I had written the email saying who was knocked up, and mom read the email but her brain didn't read the name I had typed.  Guh.  I need to quit talking to that woman.  She's so airheaded about everything unrelated to her own grandchildren (and even then, one of them is by far the favorite.  I haven't figured out yet if it's cuz she was the first grandchild or if it's because she's a girl or some other stupid reason, but definitely favorite grandchild.  I'm so glad I don't have children who would need to compete for grandma's love)

The rest of our summer is going to be insane.  I'm going to be out of town almost more than I'm going to be home.  *sigh*  Not really looking forward to this at all.  This is about the time I start to consider getting a real job just so I have something to force me to stay home.  Someone just shoot me now and take me out of my misery. 

Marriage is one of the leading causes of divorce

I promised a couple posts ago that I would explain my "ex-husband"

Many moons ago, long before Designated Hitter and I were even dating (although we were sleeping together once in a while... don't ask) I met this guy, Opie.  He and I hit it off from day one

except we don't actually have shared jewelry

 

And we were inseparable for the 6 months I lived in that city.  (I moved 12 times in 6 years... no I'm not in the military)  We both have a similar sense of humor, we are both science nerds, and we just like hanging out together.

Opie gives the best back rubs this side of a spa.  Topless back rubs.  But topless back rubs were the absolute most sexual thing we ever did.  I'm kinda thinking I've never even kissed the guy on the mouth.  However, after we were no longer living in the same town, we started spending the night at each other's places when we'd visit... I had a queen size bed and when he was staying with me we'd both sleep in the same bed.  Non-sexual.  Possibly topless, but non-sexual.  One time I even got a pantsless back rub.  I don't know.  So the running joke became that we were husband and wife, because we did lots of things together and even slept in the same bed but we didn't have sex.  Which is like marriage.  Sort of.  Cliche marriage anyway.  Also, my real marriage, but that's another show.

Then Opie moved far far away, and I started dating Designated Hitter.  So the running joke became that we were then divorced.  Which went on for quite a while.  And became hilarious when one of his ex-girlfriends had a friend spy on him and I was over at his house one night and then the ex-girlfriend was all "soooo... who was at your house last night?" and he was all "my ex-wife" and she blew a gasket "YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOU WERE MARRIED BEFORE!" and it was funny.

And now I've started calling him my boyfriend to a few people... because I normally only see him when Hitter is out of town.  Not because I'm cheating, but just because I have a lot more free time when the hubby isn't around monopolizing all my me-time.  So, Hitter goes out of town and I go over to my boyfriend's house.  Nice, huh?

This was kind of a terrible description.  It's way oversimplified, and doesn't do our friendship justice at all.  But this is supposed to be a funny blog so whatever.  Also I suck at being serious.  

Randomly unrelated: It seems that the Prom Queen has moved back into Buffalo Bill's house.  Like two weeks ago, and nobody told me.  *sigh*  I have mixed emotions.  My heart is glad they seem to be working things out, but my head just wonders how long it will last this time and if they're really fixing the issues or if they're just ignoring them.  Oh well, not my problem.  I mean kind of my problem, considering they're my family and all, but it's not directly my problem so I should just let it be.

With any luck this may be the end of the family insanity, at least as it relates to blog posts.  Let the hilarity and mayhem commence!  I need more breakfast-sugar.