Category Archives: Humor

New Stop-Smoking Method for Certain Phobics?

Standard

I had something unusual happen to me this afternoon. Something that’s never happened before, something I have never even heard of in my over-40 years on this planet…

When I went for my usual 12:30 smoke break, my lighter wouldn’t light. It’s a disposable one, and it was sparking just fine so the flint wasn’t gone. I could see their was still fluid in it, too. Sometimes a cheapo lighter won’t light when it is too cold, but it was 10 C out, so that wasn’t the problem either.

I kept trying, as you do, while looking around for a fellow smoker to bum a light from if my lighter was truly dead. One two three four five six… suddenly there was a glob of something sticky and wet on my sparking-thumb. It looked like a bloody blackened booger (bogey).

“What the fuck?” said I, as I wiped it off on the wall. On further inspection, there was something slimy and brown on the roller wheel of my lighter. I had a tissue in my pocket and wiped the goop off, and as I did so I saw something inside my lighter.

IMG_3627.JPG
In there. (Chapstick tube for scale)

Now, I’ve found pocket-lint in that little space, but I have never seen legs before.

Legs that once belonged to a spider that got sucked up into the wheel and smushed onto my thumb.

I have to wonder how it got in there, and when. Overnight seems most plausible, which means it may or may not have survived a lot of small fires before I sparked it to death. But I suppose it could have crawled inside in the hour since my last cig. Wee spidereen could have fallen into my hi-vis vest pocket, and decided to hide in the smallest place possible.

But in any case: I had a spider just inches from my eyes, nose and mouth that could have – should have! – jumped out to safety onto my face.

If that won’t make any arachnophobic smokers quit, I don’t know what will!

Sadly, I’m rather fond of spiders, and my smokey-treats.

Ruined Aromas

Standard

I’m hoping this will be a comment-heavy post. I think we’ve all experienced what I want to talk about, but I can’t remember anyone discussing it before. So off we go!

‘Ruined aromas.’ By that, I mean when a favourite (or at least pleasant) scent has been destroyed in your heart/mind/nose forever by an association that you just can’t break.

My examples that made me write this:

Back in my mid-twenties, I used to really like a certain spray air freshener. Forget what it was, something totally artificial and weird. Cranberry-mulberry or some shit like that. Thankfully, nothing that is found in nature after what happened to ruin it forever for me. In any case, I liked it, and bought it for light use at home – to cover smoking stink, dirty cat litter wafts, and various and numerable dog-smells.

Until…. someone bought it for use in the bathrooms at work. Now, while our own poo doesn’t smell of roses (if it does, you should see your doctor or change your diet), the smell of a stranger’s shit is just plain disgusting. The smell of a stranger’s shit with half a can of air freshener sprayed on top is worse. Oh so very much worse when that spray is familiar and a scent you used to) like. I tried to enjoy it again at home, and the smell-memory just wouldn’t leave me. Tossed in the bin – and you all know I hate wasting anything.

More recently, we got some lemon-scented antibacterial cleaning spray. It smelled nice; a light lemon scent.

Then the dog shit all over the spare room for two days and our only cleaner had a nice, light lemon scent. Let me say that the two odours didn’t combine well, and now I can’t use the stuff at all anymore without imagining that I also smell dog diarrhoea. You can also thank me for not describing in detail the visuals I also recall on smelling this particular cleaning product.

My disgust seems to center around poo. Hmmm.

While I probably border on being a super-taster, and super-smeller, I am sure that this has happened to you, too. Let’s hear it, and remember you can tell me all the really gross stuff and it will be fabulous!

If You Give a Cat a Lollipop…

Standard

I still have leftover Halloween sweets/candy. Last night I was sitting in front of the fireplace, my Siamese boy Lokii on my lap (as always when fire is nearby), and I had a rare hankering for sugar. I displaced Lokii long enough to grab a Chupa Chup lollipop (or sucker, whatever you call ‘em) from the kitchen, and returned to warm our mutual arses in front of the lovely fire.

Lokii – being a feline stomach on legs – wanted to know what I kept sticking into my mouth. So I let him have a sniff.

IMG_3576.JPG
He was interested. The flavour was strawberries and cream, after all.

Most of us have heard that cats cannot taste sweet. So I wonder what, exactly, made him want my sucker so badly? What did he think it tasted like?

IMG_3599.JPG

IMG_3575.JPG

IMG_3573.JPG

IMG_3577.JPG
Because he loved it.

IMG_3596.JPG

IMG_3599-0.JPG

IMG_3598.JPG

IMG_3590.JPG
He looks like a demented Orc from the Lord of the Rings films.

IMG_3589.JPG
Nom nom nom!

The Man Who Talks to Cheese.

Standard

Hubby has been cooking this evening. He’s now making dinner, but earlier it was a low-carb pumpkin bake thingie.

After his earlier effort, he is now well into his habit of talking to things that aren’t able to answer.

Shall I type up some of the nonsense he is saying? Yes, yes I will:

O M G, W T F, B B Q! (Yes he said each letter)

Well, I’m talking to chicken now, brilliant! (This is because I was teasing him about being the Man Who Talks to Cheese)

Nothing for cats! (He’s cutting up raw chicken; we give the good bits to the cats and whatever is left to the dog)

Spotty, watch your little paw, fucking hell cat! Spotty! Fucking hell dog-cat-whatever-your-name-is.

Not much for kitties but I’m working on it.

Shhh, I’m coming (whispered to Lokii who also never shuts up) shhh, bits for kitties… Shhh

Oh it’s gonna be less than…oh (garbled) seven minutes…it’s okay. Shhh, coming. (I think this means he heard me light a smoke, which takes me 7 minutes to finish. It was oddly silent so he could hear the lighter spark)

Just wait, alright? Coming. (To Lokii, again) shhh.

Spotty watch your little paw, I’m cutting stuff. Heeeeeeeeee. (Very unmanly giggle)

Fuk fuckit.

That’s my fucking hand, you idiot! Sure didn’t the baby Jesus tell you not to bite the hand that feeds you? Sure no he didn’t.

More for cats, nearly gone…

Alright Spotty that’s it, I’m not going through all this goop. A little more. Oh, Spotty! You want more? That’s it, that’s it. (Calling for the dog) Neko! Oh Spotty you want more? There is no more! Here take that, for fuck’s sake cat! Here.

I’m not spending the evening cutting up human food for cats! Okay Mrs (me), any time you are ready! (Because I’m in charge of the sauce part)

Hope you enjoyed a little glimpse into what it is like to live with a man who talks CONSTANTLY.

Love you anyway, iDJ!

Halloween Halo

Standard

A quick one – got my iPad back finally and while it isn’t perfect, it isn’t annoying, either.

Poor Neko gets less attention here than the cats (sorry, they are just way more adorable) so I want to share a pic of Herself for a change.

IMG_3437.JPG

Okay, so she has laser-eyes. Okay, so I really really need to cut her toenails. Okay, so there just happens to be a skull on the floor behind her… Still, isn’t she dammed cute as she kills that toy?

Cartoon Craziness Challenge – a Thing, redux

Standard

I’m cheating again. I actually do have an idea for a mythical being, based off the comments on my last blog post, but I’d have to be a hell of a lot drunker than I am now. SuperVagina – yeah, you’d have to be wasted to draw that!

I know, I know, it’s Friday and I should be celebrating it! But I’m just too exhausted. So – cheater’s version of the Challenge!

Here’s a Thing I drew a while back, instead of SuperV.

IMG_3263.JPG

A Draining Morning

Standard

Do you ever have so much going on that you want to share that you shut down entirely and say nothing? That’s been me, lately. I don’t know where to start so I … haven’t started. But there’s one thing I want to talk about, and I’ve been holding off because I don’t want to accidentally offend anyone. I’ve been put in that position recently on the blog, and now I have to write with my tiptoes. As you can imagine, those contortions aren’t comfortable.

A not-funny thing happened, that led to something funny, that led to a not-funny thing. I feel a rant of sorts coming on…

There was a clog in our big outside drain pipe. It was my fault. So of course I should be the one to fix it.

I have a plumbing snake, but it was too short to reach the clog. Being creative and not willing to either give up or pay someone, I electrical-taped an old shower hose to the snake, as an extension. It was still too short! So I electrical-taped a new shower hose to the old shower hose that was taped to the snake. Good thing I keep things like two unused shower hoses, eh? You just never know when random junk around the house might come in handy! Hoarder? Naw, just prepared for any eventuality. I choose to believe that. Nahnahnah I can’t hear you, Socks…

In any case, in the process of being shoulder deep in a big drain pipe, I got shit-water on me. I got it on my arms, on my hands (despite the gloves I changed about nine times in the course of my work), on my pants, on my shirt, and on my FACE. Yeppers: Poo-soup, on my face.

That’s funny, to me. I rather deserved poop all over me: I caused the problem. How, I will not detail. It was an attempt to save myself work that backfired badly. If it got in my eyes or mouth – maybe not so funny!

What really isn’t funny: someone saw me doing the work and asked about it. After I explained I was told, ‘That’s a man’s job. You tell your husband I said so!’

It wasn’t even physically challenging, unless you count kneeling on concrete for ages (ow). I didn’t explain why it was me doing the job beyond the simple answer that I’m plain-old-better at this sort of job. Hubby and I each have our talents, and this is one of mine, such as it is. I can deal with poop-soup on my face and clothes way better than he, and I deal with the frustrations of how long it takes to clear a big clog more calmly, too.

This is not to say that I don’t have a horrible temper that rockets off into incandescent rage for what seems like no reason (to anyone but me). Plumbing issues aren’t one of the things that piss me off – I don’t know why (or why not).

But this wasn’t a “man’s job”: it was a dirty, smelly, disgusting job. I have never believed that just because I don’t have a penis, I should be automatically exempted from doing dirty, smelly, disgusting work. I’m pretty sure every mom out there would back me up on that. Also: every female pet owner, every female carer for an elderly person, every female doctor or nurse – I could go on. How much excreta of various kinds and from various species do women deal with on a daily basis? I can’t imagine just because it was flushed it means it is less icky, can you? Hell, at least I knew who pooped the poop – a stranger’s poo would likely make me gag.

I’m not angry at the person who made the comment – he didn’t give me time to think about and explain why it was sexist. To be honest, I doubt I would have bothered, because I feel the comment was sexist toward men, too. I’m just as tired of hearing that men should be the ones to do all the physical work as I am at hearing that women shouldn’t do any of it.

Has anyone else had a moment like this? What did you do or say? I think next time it happens, I’ll say a lot more in response, myself.

Cartoon Craziness Challenge – Memories of a Childhood Vacation

Standard

I have a funny vacation memory! Yay! Well, it’s not exactly funny. It’s something that probably should not have happened – it shouldn’t have been possible and it wasn’t technically legal – but it did teach me that my dad’s word was as good as gold.

We lived on the Gulf Coast of Florida, so we went to the mountains in North Carolina a couple years in a row on holiday vacation (back then a ‘holiday’ to me was a real one like Christmas). We rented a cabin on the lower slope of a mountain, and just chilled out. I loved it – the people who ran the cabin rentals lived at the bottom and had goats and sheep and let me interact with them. There were rocks and trees and giddy little rivers, and panning for gemstones. The panning was most likely seeded with stones, but it was fun for me anyway. I still have a chunk of flaky mica I found all on my own, too.

I was, I’m going to guess, between 9 and 11. So we’ll say I was 10 when this occurred. Not sure if it was raining out or what, but we were all inside the cabin. I also don’t know who came up with the idea, but I’m assuming it was me: I bet my dad that I could hold my eyes open without blinking for one whole hour, if I could have one whole can of beer all to myself! I always did like beer…

Dad agreed and timed me and made sure I didn’t blink. I wouldn’t have cheated, either – I wanted to see if I could do it.

Of course my eyes welled up and streamed tears. But after a good while, they tapered off. They got used to it. My eyes felt dry, but I didn’t have the urge to blink anymore.

I made it the whole hour. Mom might have protested a bit, maybe, but dad didn’t hesitate and popped the top on a can just for me. I can’t remember if I managed to drink the entire can of beer, but I can guess that I was just as stubborn about finishing it as I was at winning it. I do recall a sense of satisfaction at being able to kick back with a beer of my own, with my family. Maybe I was just a happy drunk!

So here is my cartoon – and it sure did need that explanation or you wouldn’t have a clue what it is meant to be.

IMG_3206.JPG

Day One of my Staycation

Standard

Ghastly word, “staycation,” isn’t it?

But still. I have the week off and unless the weather turns fan-fucking-tasctic, I’ll be mostly cleaning and sorting out my messy-ass house.

Today: took a shower. Sad that I have to put that there, but I hate them. It’s an achievement like the rest.

Cleaned the poop from the cat boxes and picked the dog poop out of the yard.

Found the smelly thing in the fridge and gagged twice before taking it outside. Finally! It’s been driving me crazy, that stank. Cleaned the whole fridge on Saturday and missed the rotten chicken somehow.

Went through my underwear/sock drawer and tossed a bunch of stuff. Didn’t toss it very far. Into the rag pile, because I can’t throw anything away. But I have a fun and thrifty and generous idea of what to do with the rags, so it’s all good.

Cleared and cleaned the top of my dresser. Damn but that took a long time. Soooo dusty and cluttered.

Vacuumed the bedroom, and mopped most of it. Didn’t get into the piles of crap on my side of the bed – because said piles aren’t of my crap. How many computers need to live in the bedroom!?!?

Cleared out the bathroom in preparation to wash the dog. She’s shedding again so it will be a furry mess when I get around to bathing her. Vacuumed and mopped, too – figured I might as well only have her wads of hair to clean up (rather than hers, mine, two cats’ worth, and of course hubby with the long golden locks).

Piled up more crap on the upstairs landing for sorting later.

Took pictures of today’s tigridia blooms. Killed the caterpillars on my now three? four? year old purple sprouting broccoli plant.

Vacced and mopped the stairs, piling even more crap onto the landing that was ‘meant to go up’ but never quite made it.

Cleared and vacced and mopped the entryway and hallway – and discovered a disgusting nest of clothes-eating moths. Seriously, pupae cases and caterpillar poop and all. Put every last scarf and glove into the wash. Sterilised the weird wooden thing we keep all the scarves and gloves in and put it outside to dry. Recycled old phone books, unwrapped new ones. Ignored the pile of crap on top of the bookcase that still needs sorted, but at least the front door opens all the way now.

Scrubbed the icky floor mat that sits inside the front door. Ewwwwww. That took ages, too.

Laundry was done but a glove sprung a thread-leak and turned the whole load into a massive tangle which had to be unknotted and then put on another spin – the knot made the load uneven and everything was still sopping wet. Hung it out on the line to be smoked by hubby’s BBQ later on. Meh, it might have helped.

Gave up on getting anything more done, and quickly (and badly) vacuumed the living room and kitchen to get the tumble-dogs off the floor.

Cracked a beer and sat down to relax before doing the dishes and bringing in the laundry off the line, and *sniff* – realised that I forgot to put on deodorant after my shower.

Ah well, I’ll probably need another shower after washing the dog anyway.

20140728-214843-78523043.jpg
The boys were NO HELP AT ALL.