WTF . . .
. . . is up with this weather? It's been too frickin' cold, even for Michigan. I'm just glad I don't live "up north" anymore. We didn't actually get as much snow there, on the east side of the state, but it was horribly cold. 25 below (before windchill) was not unusual. Whenever we bundle the kids up to go outside, it is reminiscent of Ralphie's brother Randy in "A Christmas Story." My husband and I start saying "Ralphie . . . RALPHIE" like Randy does when he falls down and can't get up because he's so bundled up. The kids think we are insane. They may have a point.
. . . why does my daughter call peanut butter "penis budder"? And why do I still giggle every time she says it?
. . . is up with the strange conversations that go on in my house. A sample:
Him: Hey, hon . . .
Him: Why is there a pink vibrator in the bathroom cabinet?
Me: I dunno. Why is there Pantene conditioner in the drawer of the computer desk?
Me: Tush-ay? Wow. I didn't know you were into that.
Him: Huh? Oh shut up!
. . . is my neighbor's deal-ee-o? We got a few more inches of snow last night. Just fluffy stuff. My neighbor guy, divorced, about 45, is in amazing shape. I mean, not that I watch him through the kitchen window cooking dinner shirtless or anything. He'd be a hottie if he weren't a complete doofus otherwise. I point out that he is in great physical condition, so you will understand why I am cheesed off at him. We got that snow I mentioned, right? And a major homeowner duty in the great white north is shoveling your sidewalk. I told you it's just fluffy stuff, right? Here's hottie-body neighbor's idea of shoveling the sidewalk:
In case it's not clear, that's exactly one shovel-width. God forbid he should clear the whole frickin' sidewalk. It's about three shovel-widths wide. Would it kill him? If I can manage, so can he. He doesn't even shovel the steps up to his own front door either. He uses the side door, but that doesn't help the mail deliverer, does it? Lazy-ass bastard.
And that brings up another one - a big WTF to Spousehole! He has very few responsibilities around the house, besides bringing home the bacon. But his short list of duties includes scooping the cat boxes, shoveling the walk, and putting the trash out on Wednesday morning for trash day. Guess how many of those things were done in the last 24 hours (more like at least 48 hours on the cat box. Remember: we have three (3) furry poop generators). If you guessed "NONE" you win! Besides that whole bringing-home-money thing, he's not really very useful lately. I was going to show you pictures of all three, but I forgot to take pictures before I shoveled the walk and scooped the cat boxes. And a picture of the curb with no trash bags really doesn't say much. Besides, did you really want to see a picture of a dirty cat box?
You're the Panama Canal!
While others are content to work long and hard hours, you're all about
taking the shortcut. While this has benefited you for the most part, it has required starting several conflicts so that you could get your way. Your old profession doesn't seem terribly lofty to anyone, and sometimes you've even needed to dig ditches to get by, but you figure the results are worth it. Now, most of the time you're just cruising.
Take the State Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.