Tag Archives: humour

Oct24

Stupid shit that makes me smile

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I was just looking through one of two clothing ‘junk drawers’ for Halloween costume accessories. I’m really excited about what I’m making iDJ go as this year, and I had to sort through the drawer full of scarves, bandannas, flowery hair clips, shawls, old undies I might fit into again, and weird and/or winter socks. I found some suitable gear for him, but I also found these:

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Aren’t they just the stupidest things you’ve ever seen? How can you be in a bad mood with ridiculous stuffed lions or alligators on your feet? How great is it that the lions have bellybuttons?They are warm, too. I’ll have to protect them from Lokii the fabric-eater, but I think they need to come out of the drawer and smile smarmily up at me this winter.

Aaa! I forgot an important part! My superduper hubby got me these; he does all the shopping. You gotta love a man that knows his wife is a goofball and proud of it. X

Oct24

Why is my dog purple?

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I took the Queen for walkies today, go me! The weather was good (not pissing rain or looking like it was about to, not windy) and I was up, washed, motivated, and looking out the window at 3pm. The timing is important, because the local school lets out at 3:30 or thereabouts and I detest walking Herself through hordes of tweens. She doesn’t like them, they hog the pavement (sidewalk), and sometimes they try to pet her, which really freaks her the fuck out. I’m not thrilled to deal with them either, though I do like it when one says ‘that dog is savage!’ when we pass, because ‘savage’ means ‘awesomely cool’ and not ‘vicious throat-ripping beast.’

We had a good little walk, with no excitement. She did get to go into the post office with me, a rarity. I won’t take her inside if there’s a queue (unless it is people we know). She’s a big dog, I don’t want to scare anyone, and our post office is usually chock-full of old ladies. The Queen loves old ladies. When she loves you and wants to say hi, she does this funny front-legs bounce which can be intimidating. She’s under control, but just looks a bit excitable.

Today she got to put her feet up in the service window and say hi to the clerk; that was good.

We also went in the Paper Shop, to see if my mother in law was working. She wasn’t, but I had a little chat with one of her co-workers on issues of little importance. I do like my town.

We also had a short visit with Chris. Chris is… not all there. I believe the story is that he lives in a home for the handicapped, but by his own admittance. He always wears a suit, no tie. He perches his bony butt on the windowsills of various businesses up and down the main street and chain-smokes. Some days are bad days for him; when you say hello he doesn’t answer and his upper lip is caught on a snaggled lower tooth, making him look a bit deranged. Other days, like today, are good ones, and he’ll actually talk a moment and ask about the dog. He never remembers that he always asks the same things.

On the way home, Dogzilla likes to walk on the church wall as it gives her a nice perspective to survey every.last.moving.thing. I lean and wait while she checks out the ‘hood. Today, I noticed a purple spot on her lovely white fur. And another, smaller one, near it:

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I know the pic sucks. It’s just for funsies.

It took me a moment to puzzle out why my dog had purple spots. Then I remembered: she was on the couch with iDJ last night after dinner. He was drinking wine. Red wine. He spilled wine on the dog!

I think he could officially have a drinking problem… at the very least, getting it into his mouth!

Oct17

NSFW

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It seems tonight is a cat night.

I have photographic evidence of my boys, in flagrante delicto. Bad Cats, no one wants to see that!

So I’m gonna show it to you 🙂

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Poor Lokii, he just wants a nap. But noooOOOooo.

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Can gay cats use the ‘not tonight, I have a headache’ excuse? I feel bad for him, this isn’t his idea. But from the look on his little face, he doesn’t have a clue what is going on. Poor gormless kitty.

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Hey! Yes, YOU! You are sooo busted.

Oct17

Kitty ears warp space and time

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iDJ never spent a lot of time with cats until I descended upon him from Americay with a Bengal. I also brought a big dog, and a big snake. But this is about cats.

I, on the other hand, have been around cats my whole life. My mom had a Siamese before she had kids. We picked up other cats over the years from family, friends, and the streets, but there was always a Meezer. I do a damn fine impression of a pissed-off cat, and I can read their body language as if they were talking. As Socks would say, I speak Cat.

One day, shortly after we were all settled in, iDJ turned to me and asked, “What’s that noise?”

“I didn’t hear anything. What did it sound like?”

“I don’t know. Kind of a flapping noise, maybe?”

As the sound wasn’t repeated, we forgot about it until a few days later.

“There it is again! What is that?”

“I got no clue, hon, I didn’t hear a thing.”

A few more days pass, and we are settled on the couch watching TV. Spot (the cat) gets up from my lap, stretches, and shakes himself.

iDJ jumps, startled. “That’s it! That’s the noise! Spotty made that noise!”

I stare at him blankly, then it hits me and I fall over laughing: cat ears. Cat ears make a very distinctive flappity-flappity noise when a cat shakes his head. I’d gotten so used to it, I didn’t even hear it anymore.

Of course, now that I do hear it again (sometimes) I always try to mimic the sound, so’s my man knows I heard it. That, and I really like doing sound effects. I sound like a 5-year-old boy playing with toy airplanes when I swoop anything through the air, because I cannot do any swooping without making a ‘swoosh’ noise.

A few days ago, iDJ walks into the room and tells me this: “Cats’ ears cause a rift in the space-time continuum whenever they shake their heads,” and he walks out.

Perhaps he had beer on board; in fact I’m sure of it, but I’m blaming this entirely on the fact that we are working our way though the Star Trek: the Next Generation box set.

Oct11

A peek into iDJ’s mind

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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.

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Oct10

I saved 5 lives today, and maybe another

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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.

Oct9

Socks, part deux

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***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!

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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 🙂

Oct8

Please meet… Socks!

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Hiiii! I have to talk about a very important subject. Very!

My best friend, Socks! Here she is, as illustrated by yours truly:

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Isn’t she gorgeous on the outside? Well, the inside is so stunning you’ll lose all interest in plastic TV people and shallow fictional characters. I will never be able to do her justice using mere words, or a Brushes finger painting.

But, fuck it, I like a challenge. Here’s the smallest glimpse into why I have the best best friend in the world.

She fell in love with her next door neighbour when they were both kids. She never wanted anyone else, and she never would, or had to, settle for less. They’ve been married over a decade now. He is soooooo lucky.

She’s a fab artist in a bunch of different medium. Mediums? Shit, I thought I knew how to write. Different artistic materials that you use to make artistic stuff with. She’s so good my English fails me 😀 She’s so good she could teach, and has.

She sends REAL MAIL. Not a big deal? When’s the last time you got a real letter or postcard or package? How about one that is an original painting, and tells you how fantastic you are and how much fun the sender had in the act of creating and sending it? Yeah, it’s a big deal.

So far I’ve not gotten personal, but this is: she sends me things all the bloody way over here! It costs a fortune to send silly things like Peeps, or giant candy canes, or Kraft mac n cheese to another damn country, but she does. Things I can’t get here, and I mention without thinking about it… show up on my doorstep. I live 3,000 miles away from anything I ever knew, and everyone that I’ve known longer than seven years. She sends me bits of ‘home’ so I don’t get too sad and lonely. She’s the one who realised that I might need such things in the first place.

She puts up with Oirish Tirsday; our weekly phone call, that goes on for hours. Yes, we’re both married. But some things you can only talk about to a best friend. And she listens, sooooo much better than I do. Hence her sending me prezzies from ‘home’ that I bring up in passing, and immediately forget about.

She’s funny. I get to snort laughter more on an Oirish Tirsday than I do all week.

She’s a genuinely nice person, but not a doormat. She recently had to meet someone that did horrible things to her and her family. I never, ever, would have met with this jerk. Her hubby didn’t understand why she would, either. But because she was incapable of being even the tiniest bit of an asshole, they met…and it was fine. Even, perhaps, good. Wow, babe. You are way stronger than me.

She takes care of everyone, and I mean everyone, in her life. I worry about that, that it is too much for one person to handle. But I’m one of the ones she takes care of, and I don’t want her to ever stop.

There are some, just some, of the reasons why this gal rocks my world.

We talk, obviously, a LOT. About anything. Sex? well, duh. Self-analysis? yup. Art, writing, music, food, pets, our respective menfolk, family, the occult, cannibalism, murder, and poop. Actually, I think we talk about poop more than any other single topic. Hey, it’s a never-ending source of humour!

Back in January, a new topic came up. Children, babies, having them, why and why not. Well, it wasn’t a new topic. But it hadn’t been talked about in ages, because we’d agreed that kids are oooky.

And I think I’ll leave you hanging, here, as there is sooo much more to say still.

Oct6

I’m pooped

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Ugh, I’m not feeling spiffy this morning. Guts are unhappy about whatever it is that makes them unhappy all the damn time. Feel a bit like barfing, too. Back is giving me trouble, of course.

Think we did too much yesterday. Really annoying that doing normal things one day screws me up for the next two days.

I actually left the house yesterday! In the car! I went into buildings! I did some shopping! You can see how exhausting that is, just from all of the exclamation marks! !!! !! !

I needed to pick up my back x-rays from the hospital, so I can take them to the chiropractor tomorrow. Being as all that the National Health Service (NHS) has done for my back in the last 1.5 years is take one set of x-rays, I figure I should use them as best I can. So, because everything is done different here than I would ever expect, I had to get a letter from my GP and take it to the hospital’s x-ray department, and ask for my films. Which I do, and got them after a short wait. I also got questioned as to what I needed them for. “Oh, um, I have a consultation…no, I forget who it’s with… I’ll bring them back next month…” all the while blushing furiously because I am a totally shitty liar and even lying by omission shows all over my face. I didn’t want to say that I was going to a chiropractor outside the NHS for fear they wouldn’t let me have my x-rays of my back even with a letter from my GP. Because I’m so thrilled to be paying for treatment myself instead of being cared for by the NHS. Grrr.

Oh, I am totally going to take pics of the pics of my innards. I love that stuff! Don’t worry, I’ll share. 🙂

The hospital is under a ‘no visitors’ rule at the moment due to a vomiting bug going around. I should have taken a pic of the giant “No visitors” board that was propped outside the main entrance. Sort of fucking scary that the hospital already had a board to put out front. I very carefully touched nothing but the file they gave me. But… didn’t I start this post saying that I feel a bit pukey? Joy.

Okay, so then we stopped in at Horkan’s to get Dogzilla something for her birthday. We wandered around there a while. They have small pets, pet supplies, plants, and Weber grills. So me and iDJ were both happy. We also picked up a couple little Xmas presents to send to the US. Always good to find things that are small and lightweight. Dear god, did I just admit to buying Xmas gifts before Halloween?

Back home and got some schtuff for dinner. And we stopped into a pub, because it was 4:30, and he said that since he had been forced to take the week off as holiday time (instead of the dole; this way he actually gets paid), he wanted to have an early pint as if he was on holidays. So we did.

Aaaand that was enough to wear me out. Aaaand I need to RUN to the potty now!