Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Some assembly required

There was an episode of The L Word where Bette opens this gigantic box and stares at all the parts she has to assemble and grumbles, “Times like this I wish I weren’t a lesbian.” That really annoyed me. What the hell was she talking about? She was implying that women were helpless regardless of whether they were lesbian or not. Was she actually wanting a man around to do the task? Men are good at strong-arming things and not much else. Okay okay I don’t really believe that. Much.

Anyway, my response to the show was, “She’s only saying that because I’m not there!” I love putting things together. Some people dread going to Ikea because most of their furniture is flat-packed and require a lot of assembly. At the checkout I’ve seen little displays of business cards of folks who will assemble your furniture for a fee. Is it really that hard? If you have a screwdriver and a brain, you can do it. Hell you don’t even have to be literate, that’s how simple their instructions are. It’s like a giant puzzle you have to solve.

However I think I’m taking it for granted that I find these kinds of things fun. I’m also good at reading maps. They must be related. But don’t get me wrong, I’m not that good. I sometimes have leftover pieces and am left wondering where they were supposed to go. But if I poke at the finished product and it does’t fall to pieces, then it’s good enough for me, hee!

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

My Inner Beavis and Butthead

I was sitting here catching up with blog reading again while someone else was watching some pre-olympic news show. They were talking about someone named “Jacqueline Bootier” and you know what my first reaction was?

"Uh-huh-huh.... he said booty..."

On Valentine's Day

I’ll be blunt. Valentine’s Day is stupid. And this is not coming from a bitter, dried up spinster. I am happily in a relationship with a loving woman. I just don’t like the thought that all couples are being made to feel obligated to do something romantic on this day. You should be thinking these things every day. All Valentine’s Day succeeds in doing is making restaurants crowded and filling grocery stores with annoying pink and red things. Don’t wait until February to plan that romantic rendezvous, do it sooner! Do it later! Do it sooner and later! Valentine’s Day is just a big commercial blitz like Christmas.

*ahem*
That being said, here’s what we did, heehee! We played hooky these last couple days (our respective bosses think we’ve got something bad) and have been spending the days hanging out, lazing with movie rentals, and making out at random intervals. We made some time to wash a few dishes, but for the most part it was just lots and lots of alone time that we love. Today we visited a dog pound just to see. It was our first time there (our past dogs were all given to us by others). So many different personalities and temperaments. Some of them were actually nuzzling the fence just to get closer, it was very sweet.

We seriously thought about taking one home with us. However upon inquiring about her we were warned that the previous owner took it to the pound because it loved to destroy things outdoors. Oh hell no. Everything is finally perfect the way we want it after months and months of work. So nevermind. We’re sticking with two. They’re a handful already anyway.

As perfect as these last few days have been, it wasn’t because it was Valentine’s Day. That was just the excuse. We’ve done this before on several occasions (which is why our bosses and coworkers will never know about this blog!) and it’s lovely every time. My point is, don’t wait folks. Do it when you feel like it!

Monday, February 13, 2006

Screaming with Celebrities

We’ve got a guest who came over for a visit tonight. I turned on the TV for his son to watch while they chatted. Unfortunately we don’t have cable, so he decided “Skating with Celebrities” was the best thing on at the time. Poor guy.

I don’t know, mabye it’s not a bad show, I’ve never watched it. To be honest the only reason we didn’t Tivo the first airing of it was because it coincided with some other show we preferred. So I’m ignoring it as best as I can while I catch up on my blog reading. What I’m noticing (despite my efforts to ignore) is all the hooting and hollering going on. I have never watched a single ice skating event where the audience did anything but appreciative clapping. This show is as obnoxious and noisy as American Idol. They must have prerequisites for audience members:

• Must be under 20 years old
  
• Must be able to do that loud, annoying whistling thing with your fingers
• Must be exciteable enough to find ice skating worth screaming about
  
• Must be able to maintain screaming activity for at least an hour

Did I miss anything?

Bigger and Better

As Little Brat is winding down towards the end of her heat cycle, she seems to be aiming for bigger and better things. Well, I don’t know about better, but definitely bigger. The neighbor’s dog wandered over for a visit yesterday. I think it’s a golden retriever or something. Whatever it is, it’s pretty old. I always thought it was a female since I thought I heard them refer to her as “old girl” a lot. We happened to have our gate open so the dog (I always forget its name) comes in. Not too long ago both my little ones would launch into a barking frenzy at any intruder, but not this day. Little Brat, recognizing “new blood”, immediately started her little “fuck me” dance. Here’s her in action:

It never registered in her little fevered brain that, should this dog become interested, any attempt to mount her would completely flatten her. I mean look, she could walk under that dog! That didn’t matter to her at all. She went ahead and waved her butt around anyway.

And her little dance worked. Here you can see exactly what the big dog is focused on:

Notice how Big Pest (he’s the brown one) is being ignored and isn’t quite sure what to do about it. Poor guy. Here all along he thought it was all about him.

Sunday, February 12, 2006

What does it mean when...

What does it mean when your refrigerator is making buzzing, grinding noises and no longer keeps ice cream frozen?

Why… that’s right! Time to go to Baskin Robbins!

Saturday, February 11, 2006

The things you find in a car wash mini-mart

I just got back from the car wash, aren’t I efficient? My car is so happy. I felt so guilty for neglecting it so long I gave it the “Diamond Package”.

A lot of these car washes have little mini-marts in them where they sell things like air fresheners and greeting cards. (They usually have a decent selection to choose from too.) This one in particular, I just have to tell you about. First thing I noticed was a little rack of cassette tapes. Casette tapes. Not a single CD in sight. Perplexed, I examined the titles. They varied from “Coors Country” to “Here Comes the Bride”. WTF? Can you imagine any bride-to-be walking in there, paying for her car wash, then exclaiming, “Oh gosh! Look! I haven’t been able to decide on what kind of music to play at my wedding, but they’ve got just what I need right here! What an amazing find! And how did they know the venue I chose has no CD player? This tape is perfect!"

Over in the other corner was a freezer. I took a peek inside because I love ice cream. It was completely empty except for five Big Sticks and an ice cream cup. They all had that frosted-over look of having been melted and refrozen several times.

In another corner were a couple of arcade games—Ms. PacMan and Zaxxon. Wow, the units themselves looked like they were built in the 80s. A sign above told patrons to “Play at your own risk” and I noticed one of the coin slots was taped over. Quarter eater.

There was also a rack of el-cheapo sunglasses with ultra-cool names like XLoop, Adrenalin and Choppers. Lots of mirror shades in various colors, all for $9.99! Don’t laugh, I actually bought a pair of these. I find that the cheapy sunglasses are usually more comfortable than their expensive counterparts. Factor that in with the fact that I like to sit on them, and you’ll understand why I buy them.

To complete this mini-mart scene are two interesting machines: a “Palm Reader” and a “How Loveable Are You” machine. You might as well stick a thermometer up your ass and get a reading, that’s how useful these things are.

Anyway, my car is clean and happy now. Time to eat breakfast!

I feel so dirty

At what point does the dirt buildup on your car become… I don’t know, toxic? Or paint-eating? It’s been months since I’ve washed it. A couple of rainy days has helped to get the top layer of dirt off, but really the only thing that’s accomplished is giving me another excuse not to wash it.

Every time I try washing it myself—you know going out there with a bucket and a sponge—I remind myself afterwards why I usually take it to a car wash. It’s annoying and I don’t enjoy getting wet. At the car wash I won’t get wet, but I still have to sit on an uncomfortable hard bench, with strangers, and wait an hour. If I bring a book it’s not so bad (but still uncomfortable).

My sweetheart tells me I need to be a hardass with the people who are wiping off the insides. I need to remind them to clean the cupholders and point out what they missed on the dash. However I have a hard time doing this because a) I don’t enjoy being a hardass to another person; b) I would hate to have some bitch hovering over my shoulder as I worked, so I don’t do it; and c) I hate talking to strangers. So I stay on the bench until they wave their little rag.

Boring post, I know. I’m thinking about all the crap I’ve been putting off in past weekends. I need to do laundry. Don’t ask me how long it’s been since I changed the sheets, I won’t remember. I feel like a disgusting bachelor or something.

Time to do some chores! Wanna come over and help?

Friday, February 10, 2006

Enough with the boinking already!

If you haven’t met my furballs yet, you might want to take a quick jaunt and do so, I’m about to talk about them again (and I don’t use their real names because they asked me not to, paranoid little yappers).

We’ve been meaning to take Little Brat to get spayed. It’s one of those things that you know you have to do, but you also know you don’t have to do it right now. So we didn’t. We told ourselves we just need to bring her in before her next heat cycle and we’ll be fine. Well guess what (hamster butt!) we waited too long. We now have an insatiable horndog on our hands.

She used to launch into a barking frenzy every single time this little Pekanese walked by our house. She would alternate between barking through the window and running to the back yard to bark through the gate. If you were to put words in her mouth, they would sound something like, “Hey you stumpy little intruder, I’ll rip your froo-froo fur out with my little chihuahua teeth! Yeah that’s right, walk away you lilly livered excuse for a canine!"

But yesterday, as I was getting the mail out of the box, she ran out of the house. There was that Pekanese again walking by our house with his owner. Did she bark? Oh no, not at all. She ran right up to him and immediately started doing her little “fuck me” dance, waving her furry little butt in his face. I could almost hear her saying, “Hey there big boy… I’ve got something for you...” Slut.

The day before that I was on the lazyboy watching TV. The doggies usually lay on my lap the whole time, for lack of anything else to do. But that night they just couldn’t sit still. Big Pest was resting contentedly, but Little Brat would have none of it. He’s the only male in the household, so of course she’s going to be following him everywhere. It didn’t matter that he’s neutered. So here she was, waving her ass in his face that night, and that’s all it took. He climbed right on top of her and started humping… right in my lap.

All day long they follow each other around, going nuts with the boinking. They usually follow me to bed when I go to sleep at night. Last night they stayed up for an extra hour of banging. In the mornings they usually stay in bed as I leave for work because it’s cold. This morning they got up at 6am with me to start their fuckfest early. Enough with the boinking already!

Serves us right for being so lazy. Now we’ve got another six months to spay her before this happens again. I hope we’re able to get off our asses in time!

Doggie Style

Can you sense today’s theme?

Humans aren’t the only ones with sex toys. Anyone with pets knows this. I would like to introduce you to my little ones’ favorite sex toy. What a cow. See for yourself!

Ms. Cow is primarily Big Pest’s toy. He likes to play three games with her:

1. Tug of war
   
2. Shake it up
   
3. Let’s get it on

The funny thing about this toy is that it has one of those animal-sound noise makers inside. You turn it upside down and it yields a very mournful “Mooooooooo”. The entertaining part is you can always tell when Big Pest is playing “Let’s get it on” with her, because all you hear is “Mu mu mu mu mu”.

These last few days have been interesting with Little Brat being in heat and all. He’s been pretty much ignoring Ms. Cow. However it seems that Little Brat isn’t getting enough satisfaction. I was at the computer (where else?) when I heard the “mu mu mu mu” of Ms. Cow. I look over expecting to see my boy in action, but instead I find Little Brat getting her groove on with the cow. Horndog doesn’t even begin to describe her.

Better the cow than me!

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Hugh Jackman doesn't wear socks

I was going through my site stats like a good little blogger when I got to the “Search Keyphrases” section. It’s really neat to see how some people have stumbled onto my site (and likely took one look, mumbled “Useless!” and then clicked the back button.) There was one that caught my eye, and completely baffled me. Someone, somehow, managed to come to my site by searching for “hugh jackman doesn’t wear socks”.

Since I’ve never mentioned Hugh Jackman or socks in my blog, I assume they were probably directed to my movie rants page (also hosted on my lame-ass .info domain). I might have mentioned him there, but I seriously do not recall talking about anyone’s socks.

This brings us to the next question… Why on earth would any dumbass want to know about Hugh’s socks? If I wanted to stalk him, I’d be more inclined to ask about what he likes for dessert or what color underwear he has on Sundays. But anyway, people search for the weirdest things. As entertaining as this search phrase was, it wasn’t as bizarre as the “penis salad” search that I once read about. Now that is a laugh and a half.

If I want to know how your day is, I'll beat it outta ya!

I was just wandering to the lunch room to refill my water bottle (well, it really isn’t a water bottle. It’s a sippy cup for adults. Anything else would result in a flood on my desk every day.) So I’m walking down the hallway and this lady is walking towards me. She smiles at me and says, “Hi, how’s it going?” I smile back and answer, “Pretty good” and continue on my way. We pass by each other and a few seconds later I hear her say, “Yeah I’m fine too, thanks."

All right. FIRST of all, I have never liked the stupid greetings people insist on doing to total strangers. If I’m not interested in knowing how your day is, I won’t ask you, and I don’t think anyone else should either unless they are prepared to stop and listen to a full answer. To me, asking “How are you” should be an opening for a conversation, not something you toss at another person in passing. You say “hi” for a quick greeting.

It’s polite and nice to make eye contact and say hi to people in passing, but woman, do NOT expect me to fucking ask you how your fucking day was. I don’t care. I will acknowledge your existence, but I don’t know you. I won’t ask a question unless I’m going to stop walking and listen.

I’m a nice person, but I will not join in on the stupid practices of society that make no sense. If you’re one of these How Are You people, you’re lucky to get a hi out of me. I know I’m being surly, but she didn’t have to get all bitchy and turn a normal everyday greeting into a “fuck you for not asking” event. Now for the rest of the day I’m just going to keep my eyes on the floor, just in case.

Escape Artist

For some reason, as I was driving to work, I thought of something that my sister and I used to play as kids. It was a phase that last about a week or less. We called it “Escape Artist”. It basically consisted of one sister tying the other to a chair. Afterwards the one tied up would try to wiggle free. We always managed to wiggle free because, well, kids are very wiggly and terrible at tying knots. It was a lot of fun… until grandma got mad.

My grandmother (who was living with us at the time) found us in the dining room, one tied up while the other was giggling. We couldn’t figure out why, but she got really mad at us. “What kind of a game is this? This isn’t funny! You want to be tied up? I’ll can tie you up real good!"

She didn’t say it like, “I’m going to help you guys with your game and show you how to tie good knots.” It was more like, “You just offended me (and the stick up my ass) and I’m going to teach you both a lesson if you keep this up!” My sister and I stared at her like a pair of deer in headlights. Well, one deer was tied up at the time, so it couldn’t bound off the road. Why was she so mad? We couldn’t figure it out, but we never played Escape Artist again.

In thinking back to those few days, I am realizing one thing: I…  I kinda liked the feeling of being tied up… Hmm. Interesting.
...
...
Hey sweety… wanna play Escape Artist?

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

What's that in my car?

Last month I had a post about things you’d find on my desk at work. I kinda enjoyed writing that, and since no one ever tags me for anything, I decided to write one about things you’d find in my car. It’s not as interesting because I don’t like knick-knacks in my car, but it’s something. In my car you’ll find...

1. Jumper cables. When I got my first car I immediately bought jumper cables. My mom asked me, “What do you need jumper cables for? The car is brand new!” ...As if brand new cars are immune to owner stupidity. Hello, just because your car turns off its lights when you turn off the car doesn’t mean mine does it too! Speaking of which, that bugs me. She never bothers to turn off her headlights because the car will turn them off for her. I don’t ever want her driving my car because I know she’s going to just leave the damn things on all day. Lucky for me the only times I’ve ever used the cables was to help others who had dead batteries. I like being able to help folks. I actually think that’s more what motivated me to buy them in the first place. It’s that weird little desire to be a hero I guess.

2. A CD case full of music compilations I burned myself, just in case the radio is blowing chunks.

3. A pair of gloves. I really do have gloves in my glove compartment. My hands are so chronically icy, they are a necessity for me. That steering wheel gets COLD in the mornings.

4. A squeegie. Squeegy? Luigi? One of those window-cleaner things on a stick. There’s almost always so much dew in the mornings it looks like my car was rained on, only without the added benefit of washing any of the dirt off. I think the windows are the only clean part of my car right now.

5. A little Buddha on a string. No I’m not religious at all. I hate organized religion. But my mom’s a hardcore Buddhist (hey there are worst things to be) and she gave me this little doohicky for luck and good karma. I actually keep it inside one of my little dashboard compartments because I hate things dangling from my rearview mirror. So if she ever asks about it, I can drag it out and show her that I didn’t immediately throw it in the garbage.

6. A baby shower invitation from my sister. It’s this nauseatingly cute little pink thing she created herself. It’s only still in the side pocket of my door because I keep forgetting to throw it out. The baby shower was actually a year and a half ago.

7. Various store receipts. I hate car clutter, but sometimes it’s necessary to keep things there. Receipts in my purse eventually get thrown out because they get in the way of everything else. Receipts in the house disappear completely. Things that are put into my car stay there. That baby shower invitation is a fine example.

8. The owner’s manual for the car. Hey I read the damn things. When I had to change a tire for the first time in my life last year, I read the manual. It worked. Not only did I manage to change the tire, it stayed on when I drove the car.

9. My ID badge for work. If I don’t leave that thing in the car when I go home, I would be locked out of the office every other day from leaving it at home all the time.

10. A pair of sneakers. I used to make it a point to go take a walk around the block during my lunch break. I haven’t done that in a while. I’ve been blogging instead.

Catching elusive thoughts

I’ve always been a writer. When I say “writer” I don’t mean a self-proclaimed author of several self-published books. Hell no. I have no such delusions (I have other things to be delusional about). (Actually I have made several attempts at starting books, but I never finish because I lose interest or inspiration too quickly.)

I mean I’ve always preferred to put my thoughts down into print rather than talk about them. It really helps me to organize and analyze them. Back when I used to live by myself I would bang out pages and pages into a Word doc, just ranting to myself about whatever I was feeling. I was often more able to get a handle on things afterwards and therefore make better decisions. When I go back and read them years later I sometimes wonder how I could have been such a whiny, melodramatic drama queen at the time. Hmm… maybe I haven’t changed that much. But still, it did help me figure out that I was gay. It helped me figure out what I was dissatisfied about in a relationship. One fleeting thought would lead to another, then another. Then after reading what I wrote, I would realize a complete thought, a complete set of feelings. It worked much better than me trying to chase them down in my head during a conversation or even just laying on the couch. I don’t run 300 miles an hour like my thoughts do.

Well anyway, writing in a blog is different from all that. When I started it I was a little hesitant because you are opening yourself up to other people’s comments, possibly ridicule. But what surprised me were the number like-minded people that are out there. It’s nice to be a unique personality and all, but it’s also very comforting to know that there are others who share some of my quirks, experiences and ideals. It’s awesome actually.

Okay, it’s addicting. I’m a junkie. I just wanted to take a bit of time to thank everyone who comes by and helps me support my habit by commenting. I’m being sappy and stupid, I know, but I feel I must express my appreciation today. Tomorrow I’ll go back to complaining about something.

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