Why Is It ...

… that before you slip into my DMs, you need to look between the ‘T’ and the ‘U’ on your keyboard.

… that while I finally quit drinking for good, I am still drinking for evil.

… that people need to know that if they see me looking zoned out, it’s because I’m having a therapy session inside my head.

… that I have never had a Welcome mat at my house? Because I’m not a liar.

… that people don’t realize that I am no longer interested in Driving at Night, Leaving My House at Night, Driving in Winter, Leaving My House in Winter. Driving, and Leaving the House.

… that I’d rather clean the whole house than do dishes.

… that I lie awake at night thinking what if I get kidnapped and I have a stuffy nose and they duct tape my mouth.

… that every day around midnight I am shocked to find out it’s only 5PM.

… that when yet another coworker asked if I could be more annoying, the next day I showed up wearing tap shoes.

… that I could be the bigger person, but being the reason HR makes a new policy is much more exciting.

Wedding Week Repost: Make The Yuletide Gay

Yes, I know it's not Christmas yet, but since we're getting married this week, I'm gonna post one because it looks like a party.

I love a good happy jolly Christmas story and since I didn't have one I thought I'd repost this ....

Make The Yuletide Gay

So we decorated the tree last night. I had one of those days of running around, Post Office, bank, store, cook dinner, do the laundry, sweep, clean.....a real CinderFella, I am. And so the mood soured as the day went on. I hauled the box with the tree inside it — yeah,it's fake, okay, I got lots a pine trees in my yard so why do I need another one left to die in my living room?

Yeah, it's that kind of mood. Anyway, I got the tree, the ornaments, the garland, the lights, for inside and out, all out of the garage while Carlos was at work. He came home, and of course said I should have waited for him to get the tree out of the garage.

Wait for you, I sneer, Then we wouldn't have a Christmas tree up until Easter.

Man, I can be a bitch! It's like Joan Crawford and the PepsiCo Brad.

Don't fuck with me, fella. This isn't my first time at the rodeo.

So we eat dinner first, a delicious baked chicken breast, over rice with black beans, corn, tomato, poblano pepper, and a green mole. Delicoso! Then I change into my jackboots and Nazi uniform, because I am a tyrant about the tree. I don't know where it comes from, but there it is.

Put the little ones on the inside! It gives the tree more depth.

I'm Martha Freakin' Hitler. More depth? What in the hell does that even mean?

No, you have to put some on the bottom.

Go to the OTHER side.

Put 'em on the back.

Not those! Theeeeeeeeeeeeeeese!

I goosestep around the tree, inspecting it, moving one ornament from branch to branch. We ran out of ornament hangers and Carlos walks away for a few minutes; he returns with a box of.......paper.....clips.

Paper clips! We are white trash. At last. Next year I think I'll get a stapler and a glue gun. Not for the tree, for Carlos.

Why not just string tin foil and plastic wrap around the tree, It's shiny and purty!

You put two blue ones side-by-side.

You have three on ONE branch!

You are not allowed to decorate the tree next year.

Of course Carlos, being the sweetest human being ever, simply smiles at my, well, histrionics, shall we say; my order barking. My just plain barking. My snapping. My yelling. My being a big old raging bitch. Tis the season! I need an egg nog, with extra nog, if you get my meaning.

Finally, finished. And without bloodshed. Well, Carlos bled a little when he jabbed his finger with a hanger, but I was out of the room, I swear. The cats will vouch for me! We light up the tree and sit and relax. It does look pretty but it needs more ornaments. I say that every year and every year we buy more and put them on. Pretty soon we'll do without the tree all together and just pile the ornaments in the corner and call it Christmas.

Sorry I snapped, I say.

It's okay, he mutters, his lower lip jutting out like a shelf.

Where's my gun?

That's a joke...........I don't have a gun.

Hmmmm. Maybe Santa will bring me one.

Weekend Tidbits

What a gorgeous weekend in Smallville.

It was almost eighty degrees yesterday, and with that whole Spring Forward--which sounds like an old Jane Fonda Aerobics move--it was almost like summer.

It was also errand day, with groceries and so on, plus a stop at the Homo Depot, which was just packed with a bunch of other DIY-wannabes cruising the aisles.

We checked out cobblestones for Carlos' Garden Path Project, as well as paint colors for the living room and the wet bar--yes, don't hate, we have a wet bar in the living room....it's like a time capsule to the 1960s--as well as cabinet hardware.

Of course, the hardware I liked was about $30 each and I need about ten or eleven, so, just as I was about to change my mind from cabinet hardware to piece of string, I looked online and found the same pulls for just over $6 each. Seriously. I'm down from $300 bucks or so, to sixty. It's good.

We also installed filters in the rain gutters along the front of the house. We are literally surround by trees of all sorts and need to clean the gutters quite regularly, but these new sponge-like filters will keep the leaves and pine needles out of the gutters and on the ground where they belong.

Until i have to rake them up.

Leaves-and-Needles: One; Bob: Zero.

And because it was such a nice day, Carlos grilled some salmon on cedar planks while I popped the cork off a nice Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand--well, I didn't pop the cork so much as I unscrewed it, since so m many wines are becoming screw tops these days--and we ate a long leisurely dinner on the back deck.

Such a lovely Sunday.

Then, to cap it off, we ordered "Love & Other Drugs" off the DVR--it still shocks me that you can click a button on the remote and have a new movie play on your TV. That and microwave popcorn will make a sloth outta me yet.

The movie was good, if predictable. The old playboy meets girl who has a terminal illness and they hook up, and break up, and then get back together because the playboy learns there is more to the world than just his penis and the girl learns that there are actually people, well, men, who will think of them before they think of their penis....or at least think of them equally.

But, or should I say butt, there was a nice bit of Jake Gyllenhaal nekkidity, which raised the movie up--pun intended--for us. Jakey has a cute little behind, I must say.

Four stars for Jakey nude; two stars for story.

That was our Weekend of Domesticity, Sauvignon Blanc, Gutters and Naked Jake.
How was yours?

Apple Pancakes And Lawn Jobs

Another Sunday in Smallville.

Or ChoreDay as it is known around our house. Lawns to be mowed; beds to be made; the vacuuming the cleaning the dusting the gardening the yardwork the bathroom the bed linens.

How does Carlos do it?

I jest.

But we do have some chores to catch up on today, and although the weather looks a little spring-like, it's cold--about 32 degrees--so we'll do some sunny side yard work, and some housework. Then we'll do some errands and hopefully catch a movie.

Not Knowing, however, because Beth ruined that for me.

And I already thanked her.

I mean I should know by now that a Nicholas Cage movie is an awful movie....except for Moonstruck, but that was Cher and all.

So, seriously, thank you Beth for ruining Knowing.

I owe ya one, girl.

I think now, we'll see Duplicity.

After the man in that picture makes his fabulous apple pancakes!

Y'all have a nice Sunday!

A Pouty Cat Sunday In Smallville

Carlos and I decided today would be a good day to do some deep cleaning, so we worked from one end of the house to the other with vacuums and sprays and laundry baskets and window cleaners and furniture polishes and floor cleaners.

I planned dinner. Sunday is usually Carlos' day, but I was in the mood for marinated pork lion, so there you have it.

I gave Carlos a haircut. Not the pseudo-mohawk he wanted but something short so he won't have to mess with it too much.

I stripped the beds and was doing laundry, and wondered where the cats had gone. All of the them hide on cleaning day. I don't know if it's because they think they're getting a bath, or they simply don't like the turmoil.

I discovered Tallulah napping behind the love-seat in the sunroom.

MaxGoldberg hid under the guest room bed.

But Tuxedo was a harder find.
Until I walked in the bedroom and caught a glimpse of something cat-like.



I lay down on the bed and peered into the pile of blankets, and there he was. Hiding out because he doesn't like it when you clean; all his regular smells and places to play get cleaned up and put away.

I feel that way sometimes myself.

Crawl into a hole and pull the hole in after me.

Make The Yuletide Gay

So we decorated the tree last night. I had one of those days of running around, Post Office, bank, store, cook dinner, do the laundry, sweep, clean.....a real CinderFella, I am. And so the mood soured as the day went on. I hauled the box with the tree in--yeah it's fake, okay, I got lots a pine trees in my yard so why do I need another one left to die in my living room? Yeah, it's that kind of mood. Anyway, I got the tree, the ornaments, the garland, the lights, for inside and out, all out of the garage while Carlos was at work. He came home, and of course said I should have waited for him to get the tree out of the garage.

Wait for you, I sneer, Then we wouldn't have a Christmas tree up until Easter. Man, I can be a bitch! It's like Joan Crawford and the PepsiCo board. Don't fuck with me, fella. This isn't my first time at the rodeo.

So we eat dinner first, a delicious baked chicken breast, over rice with black beans, corn, tomato, poblano pepper, and a green mole. Delicoso! Then I change into my jackboots and Nazi uniform, because I am a tyrant about the tree. I don't know where it comes from, but there it is.

Put the little ones on the inside! It gives the tree more depth. I'm Martha Freakin' Hitler. More depth? What in the hell does that even mean?

No, you have to put some on the bottom.

Go to the OTHER side.

Put 'em on the back.

Not those! Theeeeeeeeeeeeeeese!

I goosestep around the tree, inspecting it, moving one ornament from branch to branch. We ran out of ornament hangers and Carlos walks away for a few minutes; he returns with a box of.......paper.....clips.

Paper clips! We are white trash. At last. Next year I think I'll get a stapler and a glue gun. Not for the tree, for Carlos.

Why not just string tin foil and plastic wrap around the tree, It's shiny and purty!

You put two blue ones side-by-side.

You have three on ONE branch!

You are not allowed to decorate the tree next year.

Of course Carlos, being the sweetest human being ever, simply smiles at my, well, histrionics, shall we say; my order barking. My just plain barking. My snapping. My yelling. My being a big old raging bitch. Tis the season! I need an egg nog, with extra nog, if you get my meaning.

Finally, finished. And without bloodshed. Well, Carlos bled a little when he jabbed his finger with a hanger, but I was out of the room, I swear. The cats will vouch for me! We light up the tree and sit and relax. It does look pretty but it needs more ornaments. I say that every year and every year we buy more and put them on. Pretty soon we'll do without the tree all together and just pile the ornaments in the corner and call it Christmas.

Sorry I snapped, I say.

It's okay, he mutters, his lower lip jutting out like a shelf.

Where's my gun?

That's a joke...........I don't have a gun.

Hmmmm. Maybe Santa will bring me one.