Hey, um, if y’all are the praying sort, could you maybe please send some up for me?

We’ve hit a financial. . .well, not so much a WALL, more like a huge pothole that has rattled our chassis and left us gasping in a “what in the heck was THAT” sort of way.   We’ll be fine eventually, but it’s going to be a rough month or two.  Which will be, OF COURSE THANK YOU MONEY GODS, the holidays.

Any good thoughts and prayers you can spare, we’d appreciate them.

A quick post before I leave for lunch –

Drunk Friend Sue called me last Friday in a panic, asking me if I would pleasepleaseplease run down to the water company and pay her bill so her water wouldn’t get turned off.  A mere oversight! she said.  Oh and it has to be in cash.  $157.80.  WTF? I thought, how expensive IS water out in BFE (where she lives) (on a dirt road)(god).  So BEING THE NICE PERSON AND GOOD FRIEND THAT I AM, I left work, ran to the bank, got cash, and headed to the water company.  Paid her bill (“We’ll get that turned back on right away!”  “The hell?” “Oh, yes, it was turned off.” “Well, how many months was she behind?” “Three.”  Mere oversight, yeah right.) and all was well.

Until she paid me back today.

With a check.

Which I’m not supposed to deposit until tomorrow.

I gotta stop being so nice.

Due to some dryer “issues” yesterday, our laundry room was occupied by either  a man (SearsHomeRepair man and/or D) or a vacuum cleaner.   Or both.   (Lint is not your friend, people.)   As the laundry room is where Captain, um, “eliminates” this made for an interesting conundrum.  He won’t go if anyone is in there, I was hestitant to ask the Sears man to step out for just a minute for cat bathroom needs, plus he’s petrified of the vacuum cleaner.  (Captain,  not the Sears man.)  I don’t think he got near the litter box for four or five hours.

So when I noticed him a little later walking around with his back end hunched down, I walked over and picked him up.  He yowled in protest, which was strange, but thought nothing of it as I saw a little turd hanging from his nether regions.  Well, no wonder, I thought.  He’s probably too scared to go back in there.

Then he proceeded to puke.  And puke.  And run away from us as we tried to keep him on the tile floor so he could puke some more.

I, of course, started freaking out when all of a sudden he stood up, nonchalantly wandered into the laundry room and did his bizness.   After he was finished, I went in to make sure he’d gone and scooped up a large poo with A YARN TAIL that had a small poo attached.

Apparently, when my parents were here this weekend, he’d eaten some of my mom’s yarn and the yowling and the hunching were his way of saying, “There’s something IN MY ASS.”  And so it was.

My parents came down from Illinois this weekend.   They like to wait until they come down before they get me my birthday present, which this year was. . .wait for it. . .TOWELS.

Seriously.

We’ve been using the same bath towels for at least the last seven or eight years.  We remodeled our bathroom after D came back from Bosnia, which was 2001, and I replenished our wedding (1990!) towels then.  So Mom and I went to Kohl’s and she bought me ten new towels (chocolate brown and light green to match the rug I bought last week), some hand towels, a bath mat for outside the shower, and a new trash can.  Happy Birthday to me!

I’m either very practical, or very old.  You decide.

In 2004, you passed a law preventing the governor from directly appointing anyone to a US Senate seat.  Now, in 2009, you want to repeal that law.  Could it be because the letter behind the name of your governor changed from (R) to (D)?

Oh, Massachusetts, never change.  You’re like shooting fish in a barrel.

Only man in the world who could ROCK the porn ’stache!

This morning in our work fridge I found a bag of shredded cheese that I bought last week for tacos.  I bought it at lunch to take home a scant four hours later and COULDN’T EVEN REMEMBER TO DO THAT.

So you see why I haven’t updated?

I’m gonna do better, I promise.  It may be just memes and stuff until I can clear this fog from my brain, but it’ll be SOMETHING.  Y’all be patient, okay?

Scene:   2000 Suburban, driving down a two-lane Arkansas highway.  Dad in driver’s seat, Mom in passenger seat, 12-year-old smartass boy in back passenger seat (the only one with a seat belt that works)(the other one is twisted and won’t retract)(because my kids won’t make sure it retracts when they release it)(gah)

Mom:  (singing along with The Judds) “Women like men to make the first moooove, touch ‘em like they used toooo. . .”

Dad:  Men like bl*w j*bs.

SAB:  What’s a bl*w j*b?

Mom:  (shoots eye daggers at Dad, wonders why he doesn’t burst into flame)

Dad:  (stammering) Uh, never mind.  I’ll tell you later.  When you’re older.

SAB: (after a beat) I’m older now.

Mom:  You’re too young to know that.  Your daddy was INAPPROPRIATE.  Now let’s move on.  (Starts humming along with Blake Shelton.)

SAB:  You have to tell me!  If you don’t tell me, I’m going to ask the FIRST STRANGER I SEE.

Mom:  No, you’re not.  Now shut it.  I’m not telling you.

Dad:  (giggles)

SAB:  Fine.  I’ll ask Mr. Calvin (Ed.:  He’s a dad on our team.).

Dad:  (snort)  (Ed:  Why is he not dead?  If looks could kill. . .)

Mom:  Oh, good heavens.  You’re not saying A WORD ABOUT THIS.  Now, seriously, I’m not having this conversation with you right now.  Shut it.

SAB:  Blah blah blah I’ll ask perfect strangers until someone tells me blah blah blah why is Dad laughing blah blah blah

Mom:  OH ALL RIGHT.  I’ll tell you.  (turns around) A bl*w j*b is when someone puts their mouth on your pen1s.

Dad:  (urp)

SAB:  (gagging noise) Aaaaack!  That’s gross!  Aaaaaack!

Mom:  Yes. it. is.

End Scene.

Party like it’s your birfday!

You’re the best, my angel boy.