This made me cackle like an overworked hen.
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Oct12
Oct12
Real stuff has been going on
Huh, I can ramble on about nothing in particular with ease, but I’ve had real life fun stuff happen, and I don’t want to try to put it into words! Strange! So I think I’m figuring out what parts of me I want to put on here, and which ones are for FB.
That said, I had a great, great night last night with the Kiltimagh International Blow In Society, or KIBIS. Yes, I made that up. Yes, I meant to put ” women’s ” in there, but I can’t figure a way to make a decent acronym that includes a W. KIBIS sort of works. It could also be a C instead of a K for the town, or even CM. We played around with CMWIBIS, but that looks really Welsh, and I don’t know of any Welsh women, locally. CIWBIS? Ugh, this is hard 🙂 Ideas, anyone?
Crap, I should explain ‘blow in!’ that is what you are called when you are clearly not from Mayo, but have made it your home. I was the senior blow in last night! No, not cuz I’m old, kiss my arse. I’ve been here longest. Sheesh, I thought you liked me.
Anyhow, KIBIS was attended by an American, a Canadian, and an Italian. We also had my dog, who is American in breed name but is in all actuality a Galway Girl. Technically still a blow in. We had Canadian cookies and American beer, and tears of laughter that were 100% Italian.
Both boy cats and the boy iDJ were upstairs. We weren’t being sexist, it was their choice. More cookies for us!
If I had been taking minutes of the meeting, they would have been covered in snot from me laughing so much. I did make one note: Vegetarian Irish Wine Drinking Cat. Imagine that as an accurate description of one of our many, many pets, and you’ll have an idea of what we talked about all night!
We really hope to have regular meetings, and possibly expand our membership to include Japan and Slovakia. As long as they like animals, of course!
Here’s the three gals having a sickening love-fest on the couch. It’s hard to say which one is smiling the most!
Oct12
I had to let a strange man touch my butt
Yesterday was my second chiropractic visit. Nothing to report, really – other than that one adjustment he was attempting hurt before he even started, so he didn’t do it at all.
No, what is on my mind is that I’m letting a perfect stranger touch me all over. I haaate that. I get tense, and freaked out. I can’t allow myself to be tense, however, because that might cause injury. I’m lying on my back, I’ve got my knee in this guy’s crotch, his arms are wrapped around my shoulders, and then I have to curl my head and neck forward so my face is in his armpit! Aaaaaaaaa!
The only saving grace to all this is that he’s young, physically fit, good looking (I suppose, I don’t really pay attention or “rate” people, but he isn’t ugly) and doesn’t have halitosis or BO. He doesn’t use one of those cloying anti-perspirants, either. I’d rather smell sweat than Axe.
The other part I try not to think about is when he has to push on my tailbone. So, facedown on the machinery, and he’s got the flat of his palm putting pressure on my coccyx. Oh, no, this isn’t weird, la la la la la….
I sort of like the part that feels like a back rub. I’m a ho for massages and back scratches. Purrrrrrr! That part is akin to having my hair washed in a salon. Man, I love that. Especially when they use their fingernails. Happy time!
Overall, it isn’t as bad as going to my dentist, who is old and fat and breathes hard and has big sausage fingers. Do I need to point out that I won’t go to a male gynaecologist? Not after one time when the guy’s fingers could have been used to make moulds for sex toys. Nononononono!
I’m also very grateful that I’m relatively young, and not overweight like I used to be. I would be much more uncomfortable if I felt I was grossing out the doc. Oh yeah, he asked if I could wear shorts next time so he can work on the wonky leg better. So much for growing my winter coat!
I’m also really hoping I don’t accidentally fart when the chiropractor pushes on my lower back. Yes, yes, that really did happen to me about 10 years ago! All you can do is laugh…
Oct11
I sewed something!
Namaste, bitches! After literally months of effort, my barstool cover is done. Here’s Spot showing off its warm and cozy butt-feel:
“Butt-feel”. That’s like mouth-feel. Like gourmands say on those posh cooking shows. See what I did there? Sorry, I know you got the joke. I impress myself too much, sometimes.
Anyhow, I did part of this on my little hand held sewing machine, and then it refused to work for me any more. Sewing machines hate me. The feeling is mutual. So, the rest is hand sewn. Good thing ya can’t see that part!
Oct11
A peek into iDJ’s mind
Really, this happened.
It was a lovely day half hour outside. I’m in the fabulous Coleman camp chair and iDJ is directly behind me on the garden bench. I’m trying to read, but he’s doing a running commentary on everything. I’m mostly ignoring him. The dog (AKA the queen) is also outside, turning her lovely white feet green on the fresh cut grass. After listening to iDJ talk to no one for a while, I opened a word processing app and started transcribing what he said.
iDJ: “Aw, look at the queen.”
Pause.
iDJ: “Aw, poor Spot. Someone is crying. I know, kitty, we’re all outside!”
Pause.
iDJ: “I love my kitty. He loves me.”
Pause.
iDJ: “Yes, yes. I definitely need an occasional table out here.”
Me: “No, hon. You occasionally need a table out here.”
Then we went inside, because it started to rain again.
Oct11
First Spam!
I got my first spam comment today. I’m so proud! I’ve been noticed! They like me, they really like me!
Oct11
Earworm OTD
Finally! A song I actually like!
Metallica, Hero of the Day
Not a toughie, I’ve been writing ‘earworm of the day’ quite a lot. But now I know what CD to play on my trip to the backdoc!
Oct10
I saved 5 lives today, and maybe another
It’s a red-letter day here in Culchieland! I left the house! I know, what on earth could possibly have happened to make me leave? On foot? In the rain? Hell, it’s Ireland, it’s nearly always raining…
Well, I had to make the trek down to the post office to get my dole. That’s welfare, for my Yank friends. On the way, I:
Met BD who is a manager at the post office, and my sometime Harley-Davidson biking buddy. He was making deliveries, which is not his normal job. We had a short chat and blamed the shortage of staff on the presidential election flyers tying up all the postal workers. He handed me my post – a presidential election flyer.
So, mail in pocket, I continue my walk to the post office… is that ironic? It had rained a LOT overnight so there were little earthworms drying up and dying in the church driveway. I picked up three and tossed them into the grass.
Continuing on my way, I saw a small tortoise-shell coloured kitten running around under the parked cars in front of the grocery store that we don’t patronise. I don’t know why not, we just don’t. I tried to coax her to me, but she was scared and probably feral. I wouldn’t let a young fella in a hurry leave until she moved from under his car to another.
Up to the PO, chat with the clerk – turns out two people are on holiday and one other had a funeral for his mother in law. Aren’t small towns fun? Can you imagine getting to have a chat at the post office instead of a surly government worker? Wheee! And my dole went up €20, why? no clue. I’ll take it, 70 is better than 50 any day. It still is a drop in the debt bucket.
Back out, down to the Paper Shop where my mother in law works. She’s usually only there in the afternoon, but she’s in, and so are the other three ladies that work there. They aren’t all working; mam and B are, and the other two are chatting and bringing coffee and sammiches to the others. Aw. Mam has a cold and can barely talk. They all ask me about my back, and my job hunt. A fella delivering magazines hears me talking about my back, and I get advice and the name of a physio who fixed him ‘in one go.’ A physio is someone who isn’t a doctor, or a chiropractor, but does stuff to people who are hurt, like a sports/physical therapist. This one apparently is the physio for a GAA team in B… okay, I don’t recall the name of the town, but it started with a B and I’d never heard of it. Apparently if I go to B… and ask anyone on the street for so-and-so, they will know him and give me directions. Yes, that is the way things work over here!
Back out for the walk home. Dammit, kitten is still under the cars along the main street. Very dangerous for the wee thing. So I try, and try, to get it to come to me. She talks to me, but runs. I gave up, walked away…then turned back and into the grocery. I went to the deli counter and asked if they had a tiny bit of ham or turkey or chicken, as I was trying to catch a cat. I would have paid for it, but she handed me a bit of ham off the slicer. Thanks, deli lady!
Back outside, the kitten finally gets sick of my attentions and runs off down the alley, past the back road behind the houses & shops on the main street, and into someone’s overgrown garden. I tore up the ham and left it in the grass. At least she was safe from cars, now.
On the way home, I find and save two more worms. I feel like an Annelida hero! Yes, I Googled that. I’m a geek, but not that much of a geek!
In case you were wondering, here’s why worms surface when it rains.
Oct10
Red Red Wine, UB40 version.
No clue why at all, other than that’s what iDJ was drinking last night…
Earworm OTD
Oct9
Socks, part deux
***Some of my readers might know who Socks is, from other social media outlets. Please keep any comments about the content of this post ON this blog, and not elsewhere. I have her permission for this post, but we all know this is an anonymous blog for the moment, right? Thanks, y’all!
–
So, I’ve been putting this post off since I started the blog. I feel I have to get this out before I can forge ahead and talk about stupid things again.
I think I made it clear that Socks is damn important to me. She’s my inspiration, not only for writing, but for anything creative. She and I had great plans for a mutual project, and I never even started. See, I was journaling, but stopped, and that was part of the project. My blog is my new journal, in a way that seems to work better for me. Therefore, I need to hold up my end of our joint writing enterprise, and talk about babies.
Travel back to January with me. Socks and I are having our weekly blab-a-thon, and the topic of kids comes up. She’s been thinking about them, about actually having one! Well, this is new. We’d decided ages ago that they are too much work. They make a lot of noise. They cost a lot of money and time.
But most of all, they…leak.
Fluids.
And solids.
All the time.
Now, I’m not bothered by this aspect of children. You just deal with it, and hope like hell you have a good washing machine, cuz that sucker will be running daily for years. But Socks? Not so much.
Ever seen one of those funny video shows where someone is lying on the floor (usually dad because men rarely think ahead), holding a baby over their head, bouncing it up and down, and laughing? And then junior pukes rancid, lumpy, half-digested hot milk DIRECTLY into daddy’s mouth?
Right now, somewhere in the world, my BFF barfed up her last meal just from reading that. There is very little chance of her dealing well with this happening in front of her. Even clear baby drool makes her go totally phobic.
So, of course, when she starts talking babies I remind her about the fact that they leak. Because I’m not having kids, for my own non-fluid related but equally valid and well-thought-out reasons, and I sort of don’t want her to turn into Just Another Mom. I’m a selfish bitch, and I don’t want her to change. Because I’m an honest selfish bitch, I tell her this. She agrees, whew! Barf, and the chance of her turning into someone different, someone …. well I hate to say boring, that’s not the best word. Someone that is no longer ‘Socks’ and is just ‘Mom.’
Yes, I KNOW how that sounds. Bear with me. Anyway, crisis averted.
Except… it isn’t. Despite my attempts to hog her whole life, she talks to her hubby about why they decided not to have kids.
Turns out, he thought she didn’t want them, and she thought he didn’t want them. And they both DO want them. Well, now, don’t I feel like a jerk. Game on!
So, not to go into too much detail, plan Team Building was instigated. How cute! Awww, I love these guys.
I was the only other person who knew they were trying to get pregnant. Loads of reasons, mainly due to her wanting to surprise a certain family member with the good news. Because I was the only person not actively involved in Team Building, Socks and I wanted to come up with a creative way to record how we felt during the journey.
As I said earlier, I totally let down the Team. I’m not sure why. Maybe I was in denial, maybe I was too stuck in my own head with my own issues. Maybe from 3,000 miles away, it didn’t feel real. But, I never wrote one word. See ‘selfish bitch’ above.
We still had our weekly teleconference. I heard about each disappointment when Aunt Flo showed up, that dirty old hag. I couldn’t help, but I mentally changed from being a spectator in the stands into someone that wanted to buy pom-poms and lead the cheers from the field. Figuratively. I doubt her hubby would have welcomed me in the bedroom, even if I was in a cheerleader skirt.
Go, Team, Go!!!
Finally, there was a touchdown, a goal, a try, a slam-dunk. They have a positive result! I got a phone call in the early afternoon. Yay! Now, we can make plans! And great plans they were. The timing was perfect for Socks and Co to tell her family in person, which is exactly what she wanted all along. Just a few weeks to wait. So hard to keep the secret!
It didn’t happen that way. They lost the baby. She had to tell her family the sad news, over the phone. Oh, sweetie.
I cannot talk any more about her loss.
I can say that I now am able to talk about the journey I had the privilege to be a part of. And now, I can talk about it here. Because this is not a tale of sadness, this is one of joy, no matter what else happens.
My best girl is pregnant again!
This time, she doesn’t have to wait until Thursdays to talk about it. She’s got a much bigger support network, and I’m happy about that!
My selfish self is happy to finally want, and need, to record my thoughts about my future niece or nephew. Because if I don’t get called Auntie E, I’ll be grumpy.
Hint, hint 🙂
heretherebespiders 