Wednesday, August 20th, 2008
So Monday came and went, and I definitely cannot say it was uneventful. It started out cold, gray and rainy. As I’m pulling into my parking space in front of PRWeb for the final time, “I’m walking on sunshine” starts playing. The irony was not lost on me. It was a sad, mopey morning as I was hugging all my prwebber peeps, packing boxes, deleting porn and passwords from my work machine, and forcing co-workers into doing jello shots with me.
At one point, Doddalicious tells me that since its my last day, and I’m leaving after my final “IT lunch” we should all go over to my house for some drinks. Slightly touched and always game to get my drink on, I exuberantly agree. Mistake #1. A little later, I call James and tell him to expect company after lunch. He said he already knew. Dodd had mentioned it to him Friday. My wheels should have started grinding by then, but nooooooooo.
I’m all packed up and ready to go. On the way to Chihuahua’s, I stop by the liquor store and get some Tuaca. I’m gonna make my penguins Tuaca Lemon Drops. mmmm. Mistake #2.
While at lunch, James texts me to get some beer and smokes. I willingly oblige. Mistake #3.
We finally get back to my house and I’m already feeling purty damn good. I distribute booze to all my compadres, then proceed to make not 1, not 2, but 3 batches of shots. Mistake #4.
By this point, I’ve lost all track of time. I’m basking in the goodness of the penguins playing hooky to come hang with me for the afternoon. My narcissistic wheels still haven’t even begun to start churning. Not even when the doorbell rang. So I go to answer the door, and by this time, I’m sure all my “buddies” are soiling their pants and laughing their asses off. Standing on my front step is a short little guy dressed all Men in Black like, complete with shades. Still nothing folks, seriously, I’m oblivious. He asks for me then mumbles something…all I here is “I’m …. from CPS” (child protective services - my worst nightmare) Without thinking, I mutter “Shut the f*** up”. (note again the irony that if he was from CPS, I just make one helluva drunken potty mouth impression) And then BAM! It dawns on me. “Are you a stripper?!?!”
Yep yep, the little shits got me a stripper. And that’s all I have to say about that! Not to say I totally deserved it. I’ve only dished out quite a few helpings of humiliation at their expense, but daaaaamn. I was totally oblivious. And so many near and dear to me were in on it! Great job folks! Oh, and he kept reciting poem’s to me. Seriously. I hate poetry, told him that but the poor sap just kept reciting. Talk about anti-spankbank.
I love and miss all you stinkin’ punks. ((hugs))
Monday, August 18th, 2008
Some mom picking a #8 pink Seahawks jersey off the rack at Tarjey: “Who’s Hasselbeck?”
Answer: Brett Favre (fkr) wannabe
Me dipping my paw into a giant goldfish box: “Go make me dinner, bitch!”
James calmly popping goldfish in his mouth: “This is dinner, we’re having seafood.”
Friday, August 15th, 2008
Last night I attempted to transfer files over to my awesome Mac Book Pro. Denied! wtf? OK, so instead of dragging the entire folder over, I try a smaller sub folder. Denied again! Somewhat concerned, I check out the hard drive and just about pooped my pants.
- capacity: 148.73 GB
- Available: 2.49 GB
- Used: 146.24 GB
I haven’t had time to figure out what the hell I have on my laptop that is gobbling up all that space, but I’ll be a deleting little puta today. I know my photo’s and videos might be pushing the limit, but I have a sneaky suspicion it might also be the copious amount of PRWeb files residing (in full) in at least 2 different folders on my hard drive. At least I’m crossing my fingers that’s what it is. Seeing as I have to dig into my pockets for Chloe’s birthday party and new school clothes, I don’t think my budget will let me go out get an external hard drive anytime soon. Sheeeyit!
Michael, thanks for letting me borrow yours. *smooches*
Monday, August 11th, 2008
I live on top of a mile long hill. Today I’m heading to Mecca when I get stuck behind a biker towards the top of the hill. Not really giving it much thought, I pulled over to the left a bit and proceed to pass him - after all, he is on a bike. I’m riding along side of him when I realize I have to punch it, this guy is flying. Holy crap! So I punch it, pull in front of him then start feeling a little rude. But wait, he is on a bike, there’s nothing rude about passing a biker. I look behind me and badass biker dude it tailgating me! So I speed it up. I’m now going 35mph hour down a 25mph hill and he’s still right behind me. To make things more awkward the sun is blinding me and I’m smoking. I don’t wanna ash in tailgating badass biker dudes face, so I start looking around for something to ash in. I found a soda can, cradled it and continued down the hill, slightly stressed that I was being pressed into speeding by a peddling maniac. I hit the round-about, glance up and that schmuck is literally a foot away from my bumper.
If he had been a car, I would have totally slammed on my brakes because I’m a bitch like that. But he was so damn close I would have gotten biker gray matter all over my car. If I see this Lance Armstrong wanna-be again, I am not - repeat - not - passing him. I was not amused.
Three miles later, I passed another biker. He was going uphill which made my little beetle feel superior and zippy once again.
Friday, August 8th, 2008
While sunning our buns in Hawaii, we had an 18 year old boy Gus/house sitting for us. James claimed he was a good, responsible kid. What we failed to remember was - good kid or not - 18 is still 18. I was getting all kinds of calls in Hawaii, cops calling because my alarm was going off, and friends/stalkers telling me about all the cars parked in front of our house every night.
So Ron, (fondly know to all prwebbers as “the destroyer”) shows up at my house at 8 on a Saturday morning and starts literally taking a chainsaw to the deck. God how I would have loved to see that handful of drunken/hungover 18 year olds tumbling out of my house in fear. Ron can be quite an intimidating sight, but give him a chainsaw or a <- bobcat, and he’s downright scary - for everyone but me that is.
I’m still pissed at 18 year old for ripping my hot tub cover, knocking my screen door off the tracks, his egg drop soup in my hot tub and potential panty sniffing - but the image of Ron taking a chainsaw to my deck and scaring the shit out of those boys makes it all OK. *snicker*
Tuesday, August 5th, 2008
I got this picture from a local phone number I didn’t recognize.
Me: is this a voodoo doll?
Creepy Stranger: kinda - the artist has surreal blah blah blah
Me: Who is this?
Thanks for the early morning fright Terry! Really.
Now I need to meet the artist and figure out how in the hell this piece was inspired.
Monday, August 4th, 2008
But only after two Tylenol pm’s, 8 hours of sleep, a workout, and a scooter ride.
Oh and for the first two hours this morning, I forgot it was my kids birthday. She had to remind me, so apparently I’m not quite 100% yet. sheesh! Another stellar mom-of-the-year moment for me. And while she’s reveling in her birthday goodness glow, I’m trying really really hard to not remember the rude and unimaginable things that were happening to my body 8 years ago today.
Tuesday, July 29th, 2008
The day started off with me getting up at my normal time - at the god awful hour of 5 am. With my much appreciated week off from boot camp, I am somewhat hesitant to sleep in. Experience has learned me that to sleep in for one week royally pisses me off for the next 3, so I decide to go to work at 6. 30 minutes later, I was all decked out in my chilly morning scooter gear and ready to hit the road when I realized I didn’t have my new key card for the office.
Shit!
I spent an hour looking around for it and even resorted to digging through the nasty, smelly, horrible garbage can. Nothin! I tried to call Sue, who lives just a few blocks away. Her phone was off. Of course it was. After all, it’s between 5:30 and 6 am. Finally at 6:30, I decided to drive by her house. I know she’s up early so I was hoping to get lucky with a little road runner meep-meep from my scooter. Worst case scenario, I’ll have to sit my plague stricken ass outside of work and chain smoke until someone showed up.
So I meep-meep when I reached Sue’s house. I could see in the living room window and into the kitchen. I turned my scoot around and viola, there was Sue at the sink. Another futile meep-meep later I parked my piglet, hopped in her bushes and tapped on her window. Yep, I scared the poop out of her in my black alien helmet and gloves. (btw - kudos to Sue, who was in her work out clothes and sneakers) I successfully got Sue’s key card without waking her husband, and hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to work I go. I’m pulling into the parking lot at the office when it dawns on me where my key card could be.
Yup, it was on my desk. *Face palm*
Thursday, July 24th, 2008
I’m a day away from finishing my 3rd 10 week boot camp, then I get a week off before the next one starts. We had testing today - which is always fun - HAH. So some of the stats for this 10 weeks are negative 8.75 inches, 20 seconds off my mile, and an increase in manly push-ups by 20 for a total of 58/min. Although Dodd took some of the push-up wind out of my sails when he told me none of them would have counted in the military. Evidently, the military boys have to touch their chestesses on the ground, we only have to touch our (breastesses) on our partners fist. *Sigh* Thanks Dodd. Really. I’m still taking my 58 fist thumping ones, so thpppt.
Tomorrow we’re meeting at Bob’s house for a 45 minute Pit workout. Bob trains and gets certified at The Pit about every 2 months, which mean he brings a lot of that punishment joy back to us. Looks like we’ll be pushing wheelbarrows full of rocks and throwing weighted balls uphill, taking a sledge hammer to huge tires, etc… Watch this video for an idea of the madness that will be happening at 5:30 in the morning. Check out Bob, he’s at about the 3:28 mark.
By the way - hands down, Bob (far left) is the hottest guy I know. He’s a bad ass, and at 60, he makes 20 year old marines who just finished boot camp look like couch potatoes. And no, I’m not worried about getting James jealous because I am convinced that every man who works out with or trains under Bob has a huge man crush on him as well.
Wednesday, July 23rd, 2008
This is true on sooo many levels, but I’m talking literally here folks. I wear a 3/4 helmet when I ride my scooter because they have yet to install a defrost switch for the visor on a full face helmet. The 3/4 helmet helps a bit, but on chilly mornings, I usually flip up the visor at stop lights so I don’t fog myself blind. Well today I discovered that I had unintentionally evolved from flipping the visor up to holding my breath for lengthy periods of time. I guess those breathing exercises Bob makes us do are paying off.
And while we are talking scooters here…
I just went over 6 weeks on 1 tank of gas in my car. $55 to fill it up. To be fair, I’ve filled my scooter up about 5 times in that 6 weeks, with the cost ranging from $6 - $9 a fill up. This includes 3 fill ups for that Canadian scooter rally that had us putting 200 miles on our scoots in 2 days. I try to only use my car for shopping and hauling kids around. Lets see how long I can go on this tank of gas. And let’s see how much I can suck it up when it starts getting cold again. Oh the dread.
Sunday, July 20th, 2008
James wants to get a t-shirt stating that. And even though I’ve entertained hosts of people in my past with the chest thumping, cocked head, drooling routine, I was not really all that amused to discover my husband had taught my child to do the same thing. I figure I’m fortunate enough that karma did not spank me into submission by having the stork deliver my very own special-ed package.
Might I add that she is very good at it. They spent about 10 minutes on the deck mocking and doing the chest thump through giggles. They were even rattling off names of all us retards. I must admit I chuckled myself once or twice. Imagine me in the grown up mode. That’s James’ job, damnit!
When she tired of her retard routine, she took the long way around the yard because a good chunk of it is under construction. I heard wood falling and some whimpering. The poor kid walked into a wood pile. 5 seconds later she crashed into the wheelbarrow. By this time she’s full out crying and stubbing her toes all the way into the house. The second she got into the house she crashed into something else. At this point I’m at the far side of the deck chocking on my laughter. After I composed myself, I went into the house, scooped up my retarded little child, and while we snuggled, I taught her all about karma.
Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it? (ding fries are done)
Sunday, July 20th, 2008
The Hamster Run III is coming up next weekend. Another weekend spent with scooter nerds enthusiasts, long rides and beer. And seeing as it will only be about 10-15 miles away, I’ll have the options of a babysitter and my own bed. I can’t wait! Especially after the drudgeries of this weekend, which included the dreaded monotonous housework crap, watching another 7 year old for the whole weekend, and hauling and arranging over a ton of flagstone. Right now my back and hamstrings have me getting up from the nice comfy couch and walking like I’m 104. Mowing will have to wait another day or two.
Sometimes I really hate envy you single, non-parental units who get to look forward to non-committal weekends of traveling and playing.
Tuesday, July 15th, 2008
Not a bad bitter, just I’d rather be snorkeling right about now. Instead I’m successfully coping with a wicked head cold, moving/settling into our new work digs, and trying to recapture my rhythm. Needless to say I’m tired and still playing catch-up. So until I have energy to post my OWN photos from the trip, you can view some samples from the awesome photographer Mark Holladay Lee or check out David’s shutterfly ability here. Thankfully David got lots of pics of the wedding, cuz the stoopid Pitzers ran out of battery life about the time the bride started coming down the aisle.
Maybe tonight I’ll feel inspired to upload my own photos.
Thursday, June 26th, 2008
…you never go back.
I never quite bought that until now.
Too bad these toesies are short lived. I have to get the bridesmaid approved pedi next week. But the second I get home…
Thursday, June 26th, 2008
I was about to delete my previous post due to the sheer rudeness/bitchiness of it, but then Dodd had to go and do a ping back on my grumpy butt. I started feeling guilty about it shortly after my 10 minute drool nap on my desk - real professional, I know. I was so bitter I was actually planning an exodus from WA en route to pedicure heaven. Luckily, I got the strong pedi chica, so my calves are deliciously massaged, my toes will be on another post, a vodka is in my belly, and I feel slightly more reasonable. So without further adiu, and without stealing from Dodd’s list…
Things I dig about FernDALE:
- the view of Mt. Baker (touristy I know, but it stays hidden for 1/2 the year)
- the fact my kid’s school is 2 block straight ahead and I would feel comfortable with her walking there and back if our schedules allowed
- libations = latte from Mugshots, beer & shots @ chihuahuas, and the much anticipated Boundary Bay
- Bob Andersons boot camp rocks my mornings - I actually discovered shockingly awesome butt muscles the other day whilst scratching
- my vespa
- the fact that at this very moment, I’m sitting in my living room and I just saw Ron screech by on his way to Ruths so I called to give him hell for not waving even though it was virtually impossible for him to see me
I think I just need the North Shore on Oahu. Or 12 hours of sleep.
Yep yep, the little shits got me a stripper. And that’s all I have to say about that! Not to say I totally deserved it. I’ve only dished out quite a few helpings of humiliation at their expense, but daaaaamn. I was totally oblivious. And so many near and dear to me were in on it! Great job folks! Oh, and he kept reciting poem’s to me. Seriously. I hate poetry, told him that but the poor sap just kept reciting. Talk about anti-spankbank.
