Bad Luck Boob Lady...

(Photo courtesy of the Boob Lady's brother... This is my nephew.)



It's true.

I really need one.

I've had the worst run of bad luck lately and I really need a hug.

You know all about my troubles with Carl, the shitmobile, but there's more.

I know!

You're thinking: "How can some poor schmuck have so much bad luck?"

I don't know.

On Thursday, I'm making my regular trek to work, driving the tuna can, listening to my iTrip, minding my business.

I pull into the parking lot, remove the iTrip from its holding area, pop it into my purse like I always do, and head into the store.

When I try to re-activate the iTrip, it won't work.

No signal, no little red "ON" light, nothing.

NOTHING.

I am on the verge of tears since I'll have to listen to The Motown Series AGAIN.

Don't get me wrong, I love me some Motown, but everyday? NO! I can't take it.

I know all the songs, I know all the words, I even have fucking dance steps down pat.

I can't hack it.

I turn on the radio instead.

This is a major faux-pas.

I don't care.

Jump to Saturday.

I get to work without incident and proceed to grab my cell phone.

Wait a minute...

It's not in my jacket pocket.

Peculiar.

I find it in my purse, grab it without putting too much thought into why it was in there, head out for a breakfast sandwich, and proceed to turn it on.

I'd fully charged it last night so it was ready to go.

Notsomuch.

It turned on for a fraction of a second and what I saw of the screen looked like an aquarium.

A totally trippy aquarium since my background scene is a bare tree branch kind of wintery scene.

Very barren, very white, very cool.

It looked like it had started to flood.

Well, I call the cell phone store that's across the hall (I got my phone there...) and explain my problem.

The girl actually walks across the way to my store (very kind of her) and proceeds to ask me the routine questions.

"Did you drop it?"

"No."

"Did you take it in the shower with you?"

"Uhh, no."

"Did you leave it in your car overnight?"

"No, it doesn't leave my coat pocket."

Well, fuck me silly, I had it in my purse didn't I? There's something wrong here.

The only thing I can think of is that once I'd charged it, my pockets were full so I just tossed it in my purse.

Turns out I had a full can of hairspray in there.

That exploded.

All over the inside of my bag.

And contents therein.

Cell phone included.

Fuckin' Balls.

Apparently the girl was able to tell that it had severe water damage by looking under the battery.

You see, here's where, if your phone is UNDAMAGED, you'll find a small white papery dot.

This dot is actually Litmus Paper.

My dot was no longer white.

It was blood red.

REDRUM!!!

Severe doesn't begin to describe the damage done to my phone.

I don't EVEN use hairspray.

I suck.

I'm totally locked in to a three year contract and am now without cellular telephone service.

Balls.

I'm thinking about turning to the hooch. The bottle.

Un cerveza por favor?

I need a hug.

Blades Of Glory...

I, for one, cannot wait to see this movie.

I mean, come on, Will Ferrell AND Napoleon Dynamite in the same movie?

I just creamed my shorts.

Author's Note: Please enlarge the picture to take note of Jon Heder's Cock. (Peacock that is...) Also note Will Ferrell's junk. It literally looks like a moose knuckle. Or perhaps a somewhat sizeable human fist.

No Qualms...

You know what I like?

People with no qualms.

About anything.

Take for instance the following examples from my day:

* The lovely lady who was breastfeeding her child on a bench in the middle of the mall. (I'm not opposed to breast feeding in public, but when your child is around the age where he or she can ask for your boob, notsomuch.)

* The young man who came into the store this evening to yank down the panties on a mannequin. (All while his posse looked on laughing their asses off.)

* The kindly group of young men standing in a corner outside of the mall smoking a doob.

* Me telling a certain someone that she's in for a "Baloney Pony" ride and listening to silence and crackling over the telephone line.

What don't you have qualms about?

Grrrrooowwwl...

I stopped off at the gas station on the way home from work this evening for a few necessities.

As I'm walking in the door, the big burly cashier is looking at me with a smirk on his face.

Curious, I walk closer.

I get to the counter and he asks me if I've got my points card.

I say no, I have no points card.

He tells me I need one.

I oblige.

As he's giving me the points that the last lady didn't want, he tells me that the card has my picture on it.

Having already worked since the asscrack of dawn this morning, (Not really, but it felt like it...) I smile politely.

(I'm secretly thinking that he's on crack.)

I gather up my purchase and as he's handing me my points card, he says heartily:
"Look! It's a tiger! You're a tiger!"

I stare, bewildered, at this man and his points card.

You could have heard me blink. You know, the little clicking sound you hear if someone blinks and it's really quiet?

I digress...

So, he proceeds to tell me that I'm like a tiger; smart, attractive, and probably fast.

Had he taken a look at my purchases (And no, I won't go into detail!) He would have known how wrong he was.

Smart? Check.

Attractive? Of course.

Fast? Notsomuch.

Maybe in my heyday, not anymore.

Again with the digressing.

He then tells me that everytime I come in there now, he's going to call me Tiger.

I tell him and the young lad working with him that when I come in next, I will have nicknames for the two of them.

Burly man tells me that I can call him the Friendly Giant since that's what other people call him.
Or, I can call him Bear.

I told him that I'd like to think of something unique, and fresh.

He lets me leave as long as I promise to do it.

I think I've narrowed it down.

Burly man is going to be "Big Poppa", young working lad is going to be "Slugger".

What do you think?

Lies I've Told...

"Can you tell these aren't real?"

"No, they look totally natural!"

Boots...

Sweet mother of pearl.

Boots came back.

Again.

If you aren't familiar with the story of Boots, you can go here, here, and here.

I've linked them in chronological order...

Now that you're all caught up, HE CAME BACK.

Why me?

I mean, sure I deliver superb customer service, have a thousand watt smile, and a great rack, but still, is this any reason to repeatedly come to me?

Why not come in when one of the other girls are working?

Sharing means caring right?

He came back to tell me that although he loved two of his pairs of panties, his thong was a smidge on the snug side.

I don't even want to think about it.

*Shudder*

Everytime Boots comes in, he smells more and more like a well used hockey bag.

He's sweating just a little more profusely, he's got more and more "Smackies" (The white pasty shit that gets caught in the corners of some peoples mouths), the string of spit that is connecting his top and bottom lips get thicker, and his glasses are a little more smudged.

Pray for my soul, I'm destined for eternal damnation.

Sickening Sunday...

Here is your disturbing picture for the day.

Enjoy!

*Author's Note: This is actually a photo taken by moi during the Holiday Season. Please disregard the other knick knacks on the entertainment stand. I would like you to click to enlarge, and then take a good look at the menacing clown. I actually bought this for my brother. I like to go to Value Village and buy crazy/creepy shit for him. He refused the clown as it terrified him. I kept it. The clown actually turns around and the reverse of is another frightening face. Good times.

Lady of the Night...

I'm considering turning tricks.

I'm finding myself unable to pay my rent.

That's odd.

I only work 800 hours a week.

Other than hooking, what else can I do?

Suggestions?

Donations?

Oh, Ronald...

I spent the supper hour with a friend and her 6 year old daughter.

We went to McDonald's for supper and for a meet and greet with ol' Ronald McDonald himself.

There was a "show" and then autograph signing for the kiddies and lucky us, we were there.

Cleverly planned by the 6 year old, she invited me out for "girl's night" last week.

"Boob Lady?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Do you think you might like to join us for girl's night at McDonald's on Wednesday?"

"Sure hon, I'd love to."

"Great, we'll see you then."

I figured it was just a regular supper and play date.

I was wrong.

Supper was finished, the kids were all running rampant, and the ruckus begins.

I hear loud voices over a microphone, sassy techno music, and screaming kids.

We all get ready to go out and investigate when in runs Ronald himself.

In a track suit.

Wow.

I didn't know that Ronald was a fan of work out gear.

He comes in for the first round of hellos, smiles at all the kids, and spies us.

We're older than 6 year olds, and we're younger than 75.

In other words, we're fair game.

Ronald continues waving at the kids, looks over at me, smirks, and gives me the horns.

Who knew?

He makes more rounds, and comes back into the play area to where we've returned.

As A and I are sitting at the table talking, T runs back over.

Just as I'm saying that I bet Ronald is probably hot under all that make-up, T looks at me and I see her eyes take on a familiar 6 year old glisten.

I look at A, stifle a "Fuck", and proceed to say, no, his lipstick, he has to make his lips more red so that they match the rest of his face.

She wearily looks at me, squints her eyes, purses her lips, and casually walks over towards Ron.

She is studying him very intently and I see him look at her and smile.

She nods what can only be approval and comes back to us.

Why didn't I just tell her that fuckin' Santa was a fake too?

The Tooth Fairy? Her mother.

The Easter Bunny? Same.

As we're finally leaving, he spies us going to the door, waves and says goodbye to T, the 6 year old, and looks at me again.

Horns AGAIN!

I actually think I saw him bite his lower lip a little.

I smile, wave, and start to walk away.

A, T's mom, suggests to T that she should go ask Ronald if he'd like my number.

Off she runs.

Oh. My. God.

I scream at T, sneer at her mom, laugh out loud, and high tail it out.

T runs outside and tells me she asked him.

I'm laughing my ass off, almost in tears.

It was only after a few moments of seeing my panic stricken face that she admits she didn't really ask him, she just said bye.

Thank God.

Can you imagine the babies we would have made?

Hit Me...

Nobody and Flannery both tagged me.

I am to list seven songs I am into right now...no matter what they are.

They must be songs I am presently enjoying.

Then I am to tag seven other people to see what they’re listening to.

1. Back To Black - Amy Winehouse

2. You Know I'm No Good - Amy Winehouse

3. Danse Macabre - Wintersleep

4. Like I Love You - Justin Timberlake (Don't judge me...)

5. Sing Theresa - Greg Laswell

6. Skin and Bones - Foo Fighters

7. Smile - Lily Allen

Dammit, I have more, but I'm limited to seven. Okay, these are at least the top 7 that I've been playing lately. Kind of. I guess.

I now tag:

Chris, Coffeypot, Crazy Eddie, Erica, Dirty, The Atomic Boys, and Gregg.

Bliss...

The following post may contain scenes of sexuality, coarse language, and nudity. Viewer discretion is advised

(Setting the scene with Nine Inch Nails-Closer)

Mmm...

How do you always know where to touch me?

You delve deep into my innermost workings and slowly bring me to the brink.

Your twists and turns are unparalelled.

You know just how to touch me, reach my most sensitive areas, make me smile.

I'd like to think that my hand guiding you in the right direction makes a difference.

The little moan that escapes my lips as you work your magic is indescribable.

I don't know how you do what you do, but please, don't stop.

Reaching deeper, bringing me closer...

Oh God!

That's it..

Don't stop, keep going!

I'm not done yet.

Ooohhh.
------------

Mmm..

There, that was amazing.

I couldn't have done it without you.

Thank you Q-Tip.

You know right where to get me.

You're the best.

Call me.

Overheard At A Lingerie Shop 2...

You've got such a big "buzzoooom"...

Carlma...

Dear Carl,

Thank you so much for your lovely letter.

I appreciate it.

I really do.

Let's get one thing straight.

I pay for you.

If I stop said payments, you're a goner.

How do you like them apples?

Me telling people I want to drive you off a bridge was nothing.

Wait 'til you get a load of what they're going to hear tomorrow.

That Versa has more balls than you'll ever have, you pussy.

Turns out that Kia sucks donkey balls.

You're lucky that I didn't kill you off long ago.

By the way?

Your Magic 8 Ball can suck my left tit.

Oh, and about this morning...

Yeah, this morning, remember?

Around 11:45?

Ring a bell?

That's about the time that your sorry ass decided to conk out on me in the middle of daytime traffic.

I bet you had as much fun as me coasting uphill through three lanes of traffic, only to come to a complete halt in the middle of a convenience store parking lot at an angle.

The wait for a tow truck sure was sweet wasn't it?

Bet you didn't know that Mamma could swear so much did you?

About those lights you so generously left on for me last night?

Genius.

Thanks for that.

You're an asshole.

I think it's awesome that I got to spend $500.00 this afternoon fixing the alternator on your broke ass.

I really didn't want the money anyway.

Especially since I'd just paid off my Visa.

You're a real champ.

We'll see how tough you are when I go trade you in next week.

But, then again, you're worthless, so they're going to laugh me out of the dealership.

You'd better sleep with one eye open, MY FRIEND, since you're the piece of shit that's going to be turned into scrap metal.

I did you a real favor by calling you a tuna can that time.

I actually made it appear as though you were worth more than you are.

You're a sorry excuse for a car.

Don't you "fuhgettabout" THAT.

I'm going to haunt your dreams.

Love,
The Boob Lady

Moi...

Found this at Amy's. Things in bold are things I've done. You could do it too! It's a great space filler.

01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink

02. Swam with wild dolphins

03. Climbed a mountain

04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive

05. Been inside the Great Pyramid

06. Held a tarantula

07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone

08. Said “I love you” and meant it

09. Hugged a tree

10. Bungee jumped

11. Visited Paris

12. Watched a lightning storm at sea

13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise

14. Seen the Northern Lights (I'm from the North, we used to lay in the middle of the street, whistle, and watch them dance.)

15. Gone to a huge sports game

16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa

17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables

18. Touched an iceberg

19. Slept under the stars

20. Changed a baby’s diaper

21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon

22. Watched a meteor shower

23. Gotten drunk on champagne

24. Given more than you can afford to charity

25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope (My father built telescopes, it was great.)

26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment

27. Had a food fight

28. Bet on a winning horse

29. Asked out a stranger

30. Had a snowball fight (Again, I'm from the North, it was a prerequisite...)

31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can

32. Held a lamb

33. Seen a total eclipse

34. Ridden a roller coaster

35. Hit a home run

36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking (Every single day...)

37. Adopted an accent for an entire day

38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment

39. Had two hard drives for your computer

40. Visited all 50 states

41. Taken care of someone who was drunk

42. Had amazing friends

43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country

44. Watched wild whales

45. Stolen a sign

46. Backpacked in Europe

47. Taken a road-trip (Every time I drive home to see my parents, it's 16 hours...)

48. Gone rock climbing

49. Midnight walk on the beach

50. Gone sky diving

51. Visited Ireland

52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love

53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them

54. Visited Japan

55. Milked a cow

56. Alphabetized your CDs

57. Pretended to be a superhero

58. Sung karaoke

59. Lounged around in bed all day

60. Played touch football

61. Gone scuba diving

62. Kissed in the rain

63. Played in the mud

64. Played in the rain

65. Gone to a drive-in theater

66. Visited the Great Wall of China

67. Started a business (Still working on my money making scheme...)

68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken

69. Toured ancient sites

70. Taken a martial arts class

71. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight

72. Gotten married

73. Been in a movie

74. Crashed a party

75. Gotten divorced

76. Gone without food for 5 days

77. Made cookies from scratch

78. Won first prize in a costume contest

79. Ridden a gondola in Venice

80. Gotten a tattoo

81. Rafted the Snake River

82. Been on television news programs as an “expert”

83. Got flowers for no reason

84. Performed on stage

85. Been to Las Vegas

86. Recorded music

87. Eaten shark

88. Kissed on the first date (I've never been on a "real" date...)

89. Gone to Thailand

90. Bought a house

91. Been in a combat zone

92. Buried one/both of your parents

93. Been on a cruise ship

94. Spoken more than one language fluently

95. Performed in Rocky Horror

96. Raised children/currently raising child

97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour

99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country

100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over

101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge

102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking (Do it all the time...)

103. Had plastic surgery

104. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived

105. Wrote articles for a large publication ( I was a freelance internet article writer for a while...)

106. Lost 100 pounds

107. Held someone while they were having a flashback

108. Piloted an airplane

109. Touched a stingray

110. Broken someone’s heart

111. Helped an animal give birth

112. Won money on a T.V. game show

113. Broken a bone

114. Gone on an African photo safari

115. Had a facial part pierced other than your ears

116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol

117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild (Is this a trick question? You know my mother reads this...)

118. Ridden a horse

119. Had major surgery

120. Had a snake as a pet

121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon

122. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours

123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states

124. Visited all 7 continents

125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days

126. Eaten kangaroo meat

127. Eaten sushi

128. Had your picture in the newspaper

129. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about

130. Gone back to school

131. Parasailed

132. Touched a cockroach

133. Eaten fried green tomatoes

134. Read The Iliad - and the Odyssey

135. Selected one “important” author who you missed in school, and read

136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating

137. Skipped all your school reunions

138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language

139. Been elected to public office

140. Written your own computer language

141. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream

142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care

143. Built your own PC from parts

144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you

145. Had a booth at a street fair

146. Dyed your hair

147. Been a DJ (Does at a party count? My own house? How 'bout at work?)

148. Shaved your head (Not yet...I think about it every day though!)

149. Caused a car accident

150. Saved someone’s life

Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Cold...

Hey, Boob Lady?

It's me, Carl.

Remember me?

S'up?

So, listen...About that whole plow thing?

It was a loyalty test. You failed miserably.

That was just a warm up.

You see, I've got big things planned for you and I.

Our life together has been an adventure thus far, no?

You think I don't know that you talk about me behind my back?

The "cool" picture of a car coming out of a wall? Been done. It's not funny.

The pictures of my smashed rear end for all to see? Skanks alot.

You don't think I went through enough?

You're heartless.

Telling people that you don't even know that you want me to drive off a bridge? Sweet, real sweet.

Versa? A fucking Versa?

Bitch, Please.

The battery and brake lights that were lit up on the dash tonight? (I know you saw them. Don't deny it. )

It was me.

Yeah, so?

You don't fuck with Carl.

Ever.

Think you'll actually make it to work tomorrow?

Let me consult my Magic 8 Ball.

It says: "Inconclusive".

That's a good enough no for me.

I can't wait 'til you're almost late for work and you're stuck on the side of the highway and I won't start.

Let's see who's laughing then.

You have a piss poor attitude, Boob Lady.

I really don't appreciate it.

Let's see how you deal with trying to hitch hike to work when I leave you stranded, or try and get a tow truck at that hour.

The battery and brake lights on the dash might mean nothing.

But, do they mean something?

Yeah, gotcha thinking didn't I?

I'll let you sleep on that one.

Sleep with one eye open though, I've got eyes and ears everywhere.

Don't fuhgettaboutit, eh?

Just try and leave me.

I know where you live.

Don't make me hurt you.

Sweet Dreams.

Phone Sex...

Seriously, don't answer.

Please.

**Still accepting donations for Therapy**

iTrip...

I have one word: Phenomenal.

I received one of these the other day in a care package from my Mema.

The iTrip is a virtually weightless plastic box that allows your iPod to play right through an FM station on your stereo.

No USB cables, no headphones, nothing.

Once I stopped cursing long enough to figure out how to manually change the station on my car stereo's radio rather than just scanning through the available channels, I was quite pleased.

All I have to do is slide my Nano right onto this tiny wireless gadget and click the small button on the side of the iTrip to activate my screen.

Once the screen on the Nano is turned on, it tells me which radio station to put my stereo on and away it plays.

That's it.

No muss, no fuss.

I can put the iTrip in the backseat, in the ashtray, anywhere for there to be signal enough to transmit and away I go.

I actually brought it to work the other day, laid it beside the stereo, tuned to the proper FM station and the good tunes played on.

It only lasts as long as the battery in the Nano lasts, but if you have a port that you can keep it constantly charging in, you won't run into any problems.

If you have an iPod and have no way to hook it up in your car, or to any stereo without auxiliary ports, I highly recomment that you get an iTrip.

This little piece of plastic allowed me to not rip my entire dash out to get at the aux ports in the back of the car stereo, allowing for much peace, and very little screaming.

Thanks Mem!

Overheard At A Lingerie Shop...

Octogenarian: If the world would accept it, I'd wear my sexy lingerie all the time.

Taco, Burrito...

...What's comin' out of his speedo?

Belated...

Holy Crap.
I totally missed the one year anniversary of my own blogging expedition.
It was on the 4th!
I can't believe I did that.
I'd been so pumped about the upcoming extravaganza that it must have slipped my mind.
That, or the extraordinary amount of free porn I've been downloading has clogged my normally brilliantly clear brain with clouded pictures of people fornicating.
But, I digress.
Happy One Year Anniversary to me, The Boob Lady, thank you loyal readers for making it a fantastic year.

I hope you'll stick around for more crazy stories about peeping toms, douchebags on dirtbikes, tiny perverts, and all around regalement, merriment, and mirth.

Humor Blogs...

Hey Folks,

My site has been posted over at http://humor-blogs.com/.

If you're one of those crazy multi-taskers that read while you pee, this is your chance to pee while reading.

It's a whole "tables turned" kinda thing.

Seriously, there's some funny shit over there.

Go.

Go now!!

You can thank me later!

Family Fun Time...

My friend and co-worker T invited me over to her pad this evening for a birthday gathering for E, her sister, who happens to be another co-worker, and some other members of her family.

The whole family was going to be there; Mom, Nana, Aunt M, P, E, T, R, J, M, and myself, The Boob Lady.

With the promise of good food, ice cream, cake, and shenanigans, I went.

This family is amazing.

This past Christmas marked the second year that they've opened their home to me and welcomed me with open arms.

Since my own family is spread throughout the country, they've invited me over for homecooked meals, Christmas dinner, sleepovers, nights out, and pool parties.

Back to this evening.

I grab E after her shift at the store, and we drive to her sister's apartment.

You should know that T has a one bedroom apartment.

Remember the guest list?

Yeah.

We get in, hugs are dispersed and introductions are made.

Nana offers to take my coat.

We settle in, start eating, and Nana offers me her chair.

I refuse.

She insists.

I oblige.

We share funny stories, laugh, share scared looks, hyperventilate a little, and smile.

About 30 minutes into the visit, Nana hears the story about Boots, laughs, P, T and E's step-father shudders a little, questions are asked, laughs are rampant.

The kids are eager to open presents and eat cake so we oblige.

While the sugar high is running down, a few of us step outside for a smoke and a giggle.

We head back in and everyone decides it's time to leave.

I get more hugs, kisses, invitations for summer visits, and pool parties.

Before I, myself, leave, T loads me up with a bowl full of Trail Mix and Breadsticks, even after I refuse.

They're coming in quite handy.

Typing burns mad calories!

So, thanks T, for inviting me over, and for making me part of your family.

I always have a blast.

And blog fodder.

Depeche Mode once said, "Enjoy the silence".

Enjoy yours T, you earned it.

Bootsie...

He came back.

Again.

Seriously.

Now that we've apparently developed a rapport, we're best buds.

I knew I should have made a funny face instead of smiling at his stories.

Dammit.

Now it won't stop.

When he came in last night to buy MORE panties, he said...

"I'm so happy with my stuff! I'd hug you right now, but I don't want to get into trouble..."

I grimaced and agreed.

Comments...

For those of you that don't know, I can't comment on my own site.

For some reason, Blogger is being a bitch and like the rest of you, I'm considering a move.

Wordpress?

Typepad?

Xanga?

Suggestions are welcome...

Please know that I read all comments and giggle to myself, I read them to my mema, she reads them at work, the cycle of life is shared.

Thank you all for reading and continuing to read; your comments are greatly appreciated and always hilarious.

That is all.

What, Me Wormy???

Wormass is cured!

That rigamarole with the pill, and butter, and gravy?

Worked like a charm.

So far.

Please knock on wood.

I can't deal with that again.

Although, I have to do it again in two weeks.

Want to help?

La Deuxième My Beaver...

Since you strange people won't stop Googling "Post Your Beaver", I'm going to give you a nice big hairy beaver to look at.

You're all finding my site by this method so I'm going to give you what you came for.

Enjoy!

These Boots Are Made For...

...Meeting strange men off the internet and inviting them to your house on the weekend to indulge in some hard core man love.

Yes, that's right folks, he came back.

He came in to the store on Thursday night as he was in dire need of some new Fundies©.

I'd had just enough time to purge the previous visit and thought that I was mentally stable enough to handle it should this gentleman return.

I should add that no matter how much time has passed, I still dreaded the return visit.

I wasn't actually sure that he would return to the store to buy something, but when I saw him walk by the other night, I knew I was in for a treat.

He strolled nonchalantly into my establishment and proceeded to converse with me.

I was busy.

Trying to look busy anyway.

It didn't work.

He came up to the counter and asked me to show him the silkiest, most colorful panties in extra large.

I proceeded to show him what I had in the store, and after much trepidation, he chose three.

As he's perusing the rest of my merch, a customer comes in to buy a robe.

"I don't think that these will fit m...my...my uh..her..."

The customer looks over towards boot man, comes to the counter and hands me what she wants.

At this point, I'm pleading with my eyes for her to stay, chat, do anything but leave.

To my dismay, once she's done with her charges, she takes the bag and high tails it out of the store.

I'm left alone with him AGAIN.

I make polite small talk, tell him I hope he'll be happy with his purchase, and to have a nice night.

Again, as he's parting, he leaves me with a golden nugget.

He's met some fine gentlemen online and has invited them over to his place for this weekend.

I can only imagine that this will be an evening filled with sweaty man love, donkey shows, and Vaseline.

You're welcome.

Tapeworm...

Poor Jack has a tapeworm...

I discovered this by noticing that he had what appeared to be little grains of dried rice stuck to his bum.

Gross right?

I'd actually noticed it last week but it promptly went away so I thought it was my imagination or that he had litter glued to his ass.

Boy, was I wrong.

Last night I discovered that he truly did have a tapeworm and it was trying to come out like that ugly beast from Sigourney Weaver's tum tum in Alien.

This morning I called the vet and made sure that I could get a pill for him to take this evening.

I leave work a few minutes early so that I can get over there before they closed.

I got the pill that the veterinary assistant had so kindly pre-cut into quarters for me and paid for my booty.

Once home, I proceed about business as normal; petting both cats, throwing toys for fetch, putting on comfy clothes, you know, the usual.

Jack knows something is up.

I'm paying more attention to him than usual and he seems a little sketched out about this.

He's slinking around, going into the opposite room that I'm in, and looking behind him at all times in case the crazy lady creeps up on him.

I go into the kitchen to grab some butter, as the nice lady at the vet's office tells me it'll help the quarter pill slide smoothly down Jack's throat.

I lube up the pill, dip it in treat gravy for some added flavor, and sit on the floor.

After lulling Jack into a false sense of security, he climbs eagerly onto my lap.

I stroke his fur, coo sweet nothings in his ear, and prepare to do the deed.

I flip the helpless cat onto his back, take him gently by the scruff of his neck, and go for attempt number one.

Unsuccessful.

He is writhing around, claws out, ready to leap in for the kill.

Apparently the butter and gravy are shitty ways to dupe your cat into taking a pill.

After three or four unsuccessful attempts at shoving a pill down his throat, a full black outfit full of Siamese cat hair, and a lovely gash on my otherwise blemish-free chin, I get the pill onto the back of his tongue.

At this point, he has no choice but to swallow it.

He licks his nose multiple times, throws me the stink eye, and moans.

I suppose at this point he could have chosen to barf on me, but thankfully I avoided that.

An hour later, Jack finally forgave me.

Linky...

I added some new links to the ol' roll.

You know who you are.

Check 'em out folks!

Me Time...

As if I haven't had enough "Me Time", I decided that this evening was to be all about me.

After the aforementioned shower incident, I settled in for business.

I signed up for my usual online poker tournament, made some supper, sat at the computer to check all my usual sites, blogs, and gossip.

I then decided to cut my hair.

Not all of it mind you, just my bangs.

Now, normally, when people cut their own hair, it looks like it would had you used a FlowBee.

Me, I'm a practiced veteran.

I cut my bangs on a semi-regular basis.

Usually every 4-6 months.

But I digress.

After that, I buffed and polished my toenails.

I got new sandals today in a care package sent to me by Mema so, even though it's still Winter time, I can't wait to wear them. (Shh, don't tell her, she'll kill me...)

Then, I put on the lovely new silk kimono that she also sent and had a solo photo shoot.

*Whoops, a boob almost fell out, let me just tuck that back in...*

I painted my fingernails and made myself something to eat.

Now I am all cozy, moisturized, and feeling semi-pretty despite my brush with death.

What shall I have for dessert?

Go Into The Light...

My new apartment is fantastic.

I seriously love everything about it.

There is one downfall though.

I have no bathtub.

Don't get me wrong, I have somewhere to cleanse myself, I just don't have a tub to sit in.

I don't often like to sit in the bathtub for long periods of time anyway, but every now and then, a sister wants to take a load off, soak in the tub, have a glass of wine, and read a book.

Notsomuch at my place.

I have a stall.

A shower stall.

A ghetto one.

It's tiny too.

With barely enough room for me to properly cleanse all my womanly parts, the shower leaves much to be desired.

This evening as I was showering, I decided that I needed to shave my legs.

I saw my life flash before my eyes.

I am not even kidding.

Thanks to my flexibility and total devotion to shaving my legs, I somehow managed to prop one shapely leg at a time against the wall of the "shower" and do my business.

I thought I was going to die.

Before I knew it, I was tipping backwards into my shower caddy, razor in hand, seeing all the things you hear about before you die.

I thought it was my time.

As this was happening, all I kept thinking was that I was alone in here with my cats, nobody would know that I fell out of the shower, or got locked in an awkward position in the shower until I was at least 10 days late for work.

Nobody would come over.

Hell, harldy anyone knows where I live.

I was naked.

That's not what the poor paramedics need to see at first entry into my apartment.

If I was lucky, the fact that the window in the living room was open would have mummified me so that I was preserved in all my naked, wrinkly glory.

I made it out alive though, I'm dry, clothed, and I think I threw my hip out a little.

Besides that, I'm unscathed.

Death To Carl...

Seriously.

I have no fight left.

I just don't have it in me.

The time has come.

Carl must die.

Won't you help?

I'm back...

How ya like me now?

Mensa...

Turns out that the cat I've been calling the dumb one is the smart one after all.

Not that Jack's not smart, but Todd, I've underestimated.

I shall set the stage for you.

I come home from work, remove articles of clothing, shoes, coats, and the like and begin running around, preparing the garbage for its removal tomorrow.

I go straight to the litter box room to clean it up so that I can dump it all outside with the rest of the trash.

I clean the litter box and notice that the lid off the 13.5 kg tub of litter that I bought yesterday is laying conspicuously on the floor.

I gingerly peek over the side and notice that it's been used.

Like pissed in.

I dart looks to both cats thinking that some Doogie Howser intruder cat must have come in and used the tub instead of the litter box.

Notsomuch.

I don't put it past either of my cats to piss in a tub of litter, it's just getting the lid off didn't seem so easy.

Especially for an animal.

With no opposable thumbs.

At this point, I'd re-sealed the tub and pushed the lid down hard to ensure that it could not be re-lifted.

Just when I am deducing that it must've been Jack since he's older, smarter, and not cross-eyed, Todd comes waddling in and proceeds to flick the lid off with his sausage paws and dump it on the floor again.

He sniffs around and starts to mount the tub.

I run over, put him in the litter box and re-seal the tub.

So much for thinking Todd needed a helmet.

Turns out he's Mensa bound.

This One's For Mema...

Just for you Mema, enjoy.

I know I did.

And will for the next five to seven minutes.

Thank you bullet.

If you need a refresher course on why I'm using the bullet, please go here.

You won't be sorry.

Unless you're male.

And not gay.

Pervs...

You know who you are...