Snap Crackle Pop!

OH MY GOD.  Gary Eaton is the most evil person in the world.  Get this, he emails me today and says my blog is boring and I can be much more controversial than that.  Ok, so he's right to some degree, but I am mellowing as I age.  Gary just turns more into Howard Stern every day.

So, I sadly admitted to myself that I just don't have it in me to be mean anymore, that I am such a caring, loving person.  My Girl Scout Troop is running a supplies drive for the County Shelter.  We love....everything and everyone.  Then damn Gary has to jinx me.

You know what happened tonight?  Remember my freaking dog trying to get in the house at 2am with an giant ostrich leg in her mouth?  Well, this is worse.  I SO prefer body parts now.  I wasn't even that freaked out by Luke, the Dog Who Lived, running around playing with a Girl Scout on my front lawn last week with a chicken foot, leg, and thigh in his mouth.  He did not get it from the kitchen.  The neighbor would hate us if he knew.  I figured I can handle a lot.  The stupid cat brings in mice nonstop, and we have rescued the same mouse 3 times in one day (I finally got smart and made Chloe bring it across the street to the neighbors yard) and several mice this month.  I have never even noticed the dead ones that John finds on the floor.  But now my nonchalance has been decimated.  I can never walk in my house again, I will have to walk from sofa to chair to bed.  I am sure you can guess why.

I was strolling from the kitchen to my sofa, quite proud of my knee's ability to actually work these days, and all of a sudden, SNAP! CRACKLE! POP!  I stepped on a fucking mouse!!!!!  I did not KNOW I stepped on a fucking mouse until I jumped off the soft "dog toy" that I had stepped on, and saw it was a real DEAD mouse!!!  FUCK!!  I leaped into the air, landed on the couch on my knees (my knee did not like that much) and screamed into the pillow like 3 Muslim men were stoning me to death.  (Actually I would not scream, I'd give them the finger and then masturbate with it.  That'd show 'em who's boss)

So, back to the dead mouse.  It WAS alive, according to John.  He said the neck would snap even if he was dead, and the crackle of the other bones would too, but the POP with the ejection of 50 gallons of mouse blood would only happen if it was alive.  You might think the worst part of stepping on a mouse (IN MY SOCKS) would be knowing that you killed it. 

Nope.  I am ticked off that it's damn popping blood spurted on my cute, girly white with pink accents bobby socks that are so soft and comfy.  And when I kicked them off, there was blood on my feet!  I begged John to clean it off, keeping my feet as far away from myself as possible.  He got me a wet cloth and made me wipe it myself. 

I am thinking my solution could be to put mouse traps out all over the back yard.  Then at least I would have shoes on when I blow their brains out with my foot. 

Oh, I am going to have nightmares tonight.  I really want to cut my feet off.  They are diseased now.  I hate animals.  All of them!!!

Lisa the Brit

So, Lisa the Brit emailed me today, because I emailed her saying I had a blog.  Lisa was one of the people I have befriended along the way who somehow acquire a replacement last name from me.  There have been many "the" people in my life.  Joey the Hat.  Chuck the Bartender.  Rico the Elf.  Mike the Evil Elf.  Kim the Stripper.  Lisa the Brit was my first friend that I made after I had Chloe.  She was funny as hell, and we spent tons of time doing absolutely nothing together.  We park hopped, all the time.  And we always had coffee.  Sometimes I think she was preparing me for Washington State, where coffee is a 24 hour drink of choice. 

Lots of people slip away in my life, and Lisa sometimes tried pretty hard to get lost.  But, somehow we have managed to keep in touch from my move to 30 minutes away, to 5- 6 hours away, to the opposite side of the country.  I honestly think it's because we both saw each other's children for who they are, cute, rambunctious kids who may not always do the right thing, but are not bad kids.  Lisa and I could handle a lot of toddler-hell.  When Chloe thought that attempting to gouge out Tyler's eye would be a fun activity, we both handled it well.  And when Tyler decided that biting chunks out of Chloe would be fun, again, we both took it well.  Of course we did watch them like hawks and make sure they didn't hurt each other, but there was no "your child is evil" arguements. 

Many of you know I am not that kind to most people, I can be quite judgemental.  But I knew Lisa's kids, and Lisa, well enough to see what really mattered.  Not the mistakes, but the moments.  I would like to have them as neighbors again one day, but since Lisa is in Maryland and I am in Washington State, I doubt that will happen. 

By the way, I call her Lisa the Brit because she is British, just in case you are wondering.  Hardly insulting when you bring Kim the Stripper into the picture, huh. 

Tags: lisa, brit, toddlers, mothers

medical stuff sucks

ok, the doctor I went to this week, thinking he was a surgeon, was NOT a surgeon.  He was a tree hugging hippie who did not believe anyone should get surgery unless they play basketball.  The dude was not taller than I was!!!  He told me he tore his ACL ligament in his knee, and HE did not have the operation.  He worked out and got muscles, and he does everything he did before, hike, walk, swim, crap like that.  BUT, he does not ski anymore!!!  HELLO!  That is what I want to do!  Needless to say, John basically stuffed an apple in his mouth and told him I was getting surgery.  After all, I play golf!

So, I luckily got a cancellation this Monday and so I finally get to see a surgeon.  He is actually in the Husky Stadium at University of Washington.  I figure that since Joanne and Gale (John's sister and brother in law) went to UW, I can now be an official fan since I will be having my second operation in one year there.  That has to count for something.  I am not even mentioning the needle biopsies done in my thyroid, and having let a STUDENT do it, which hurt a million times more than the real doctor.  But, I am a Husky, got to suffer with the team.

I do start physical therapy on Tuesday.  It will be interesting.  I chose the location with more females.  I have no idea why.  I prefer female doctors nowadays.  They talk to me more about what is going on.  Male doctors just grunt.  I will see what the surgeon says, he is a male.  The guy I saw this week was male, but not.  He talked too much and made out with bark in between sentences.  He annoyed the crap out of me. And so it goes.

why I can be mean

Ok.  I have been called a biatch about 16 billion times in my life.  The funny thing is, most people think I am very nice.  And usually I am.  But sometimes people are so thoughtless, and self-centered, that I just flip out on them and I can be mean.  There are times when I refuse to rise above the situation and just be nice, which is why I really think that I am SANE.  I know, you would not agree.  Most of you think I am crazy.  But really, I have no problem pointing out when someone is being a total jerk and I won't back down.  Tom Petty rules. 

I verbally slapped two people this week.  One was a woman who kept interrupting my enjoyment of Guy's Cub Scout Blue and Gold Banquet by complaining that nobody ever calls her because we all have email and that is how we communicate.  She was actually crying, and I turned around and pretty much read her the riot act.  Not that I did not have reason to do so, she was complaining that I had not devoted every minute of my last month to calling her, and I pointed out that I busted my knee skiing, dragged cookies around for a billion people for a month with a gimp leg, and that after 4 weeks of a devastating roller coaster ride, my beloved father-in-law had passed away.  I wanted to smack her, so I think I did pretty well, becuase I did not smack her.  So, the next day I get cards from her with money and checks in them.  I have lots to say on that, but I am still trying to figure out WHY anyone would give John and I money when we really do not need or want it. 

The other one I was not so nice to was a woman who tends to overlook the fact that there are other people in the world besides herself.  She is nice, but annoyingly self centered.  She lives around the block from me.  Cookie sales ended nearly 2 weeks ago, and she blew me off the other night when she was supposed to come over, I waited 3 hours.  Needless to say, today, when I had things to do, she wanted help.  I blew her off.  She found someone else to help her, and I feel bad that someone else got stuck with it, but she was getting nothing from me!

Ok, not the meanest thing I have ever done.  But still, sometimes people kick the sand in my face and I simply have to be the person I am.  Which is not so nice!

Dawgs and Eggs

I have to stop watching the news.  It is Easter morning and they just had a piece on an Easter Egg Hunt for dogs.  Why in the world anyone would make the effort to drag their dog to a field with tons of other dogs to sniff out treats in plastic eggs is beyond me.  First of all, aggressive dogs (such as my own) will opt to jump other dogs over picking up a treat.  They get treats every day, it is not every day that Wags and Luke get to dominate another dog, let alone dozens of them.  I think it would be cruel to subject your passive dog to my alpha dogs unneccesarily.

Then there is the marking issue.  All the dogs will be claiming this land as their own, it will be a big pee fest.  Ewww.  Let's not even talk about poo.

Finally, perhaps most importantly, Easter is pretty much a product of my beloved Catholic Church.  Now, according to the Catholics, all dogs do not go to Heaven, in fact, none of them do.  So why are dogs celebrating a holiday that they have not been invited to?  I am pretty sure the dogs would be insulted if they knew the rules.  They would tell you exactly what to do with your doggie Easter Eggs too.

Crash Star

Most of you know by now that I performed spectacularly in the Nastar ski race at Breckenridge last month.  I earned a silver medal, was quite close to a gold.  Had I only kept my focus on my feet instead of celebrating and showing off like an NFL player, perhaps I would not have collapsed at the finish line and blown out my knee. 

But, looking back doesn't help.  I've been gimping around in a leg brace for a month, and I finally have my surgeon appointment on Tuesday.  Since you all missed the play by play of my tubal ligation, I will keep you way too informed of my jelly leg days.