I’m the kind of person who would drink a gerwurtztraminer with a green curry!
Yeah, bitches! I stood there in front of the wine rack trying to pick a wine. the gerwurtztraminer seemed kinda tacky but I was in the mood. Then I got all uppity standing there. I can drink whatever fucking wine I want!!!
and I did.
and it was good.
So was the curry.
FURTHER proof that jesus not only hates me but is actively seeking to destroy me…
I woke up this morning to find that some time in the night ghengis had gotten up and taken a series of bloody shits on the carpet.
Now, two things:
1) how did I know it was ghengis and not maddie since maddie has a history of shitting blood and ghengis does not? well, first of all, a dog owner knows her dog’s poop. I mean I hate to be graphic, but really it’s too late. Secondly, maddie has a gigantic asshole and as such tends to leave fewer but larger deposits. Ghengis has a dime slot for a butthole and that was in evidence in the um…evidence
2) what the fuck is going on that I have 2 dogs shit blood in such a short period of time? Yeah, it took me by surprise too! Then I started to think about the common factors between the two situations. They’re eating different food than they were when maddie had her episode. They play with different toys, ghengis chews hard things, maddie squeezes stuffed animals. What IS common is that they were both on Cephalexin before this happened, maddie on it for her feet and ghengis for his ear infection. I think it’s pretty safe to say that Cephalexin will cause your dog to shit blood on your carpet.
It’s pretty clear now that jesus hates me. It’s made better by the fact that I have access to borrow for free the industrial carpet cleaner with the kick ass cleaning chemicals. This thing cleans carpets in dorms for fuck sake. Anything that can clean, and survive, a dorm carpet can handle this.
it does mean I had to postpone my bbq to sunday afternoon. So, if anyone wants roasted veggie salad on grilled bread (sort of a panzanella fresca), skewered shrimp, grilled stone fruit with goat cheese and pancetta, and vanilla ice cream with grilled pineapple let me know! Sunday at 1pm. There will be beer.
Proof that jesus not only hates me but is actively seeking to destroy me…
I was out running errands (buying yarn for mary’s baby blanket, teddy bears, pink bunnies, and a crocheted version of Boots from Dora the explorer and also buying something for dinner) and I noticed a weird pinching sensation in my pants.
a weird pinching sensation IN my pants, kind of under my butt.
So I do what any normal minnesotan does, i surrepticiously check to make sure my pants aren’t ripped in some weird way and then ignore it and go on with my business.
I get home, visit the restroom and discover the problem. Earlier in the evening I’d been in the bathroom making music and chewing gum. My gum was old and without flavor so I tossed it in the toilet, or so I presumed it was my toilet. I had, in fact, tossed it in my pants and then sat on it, drove around on it, purchased yarn with it and cunfused the dude at Panera on it.
Does anyone have any tips on how to removed completely smashed in gum from the inside of jeans?
do you know what I hate
post vacation depression.
It’s pretty damned hard to sit in front of a pile of invoices and try to get them paid when all you really want to do is try to figure out how you can spend the rest of your life snorkeling and eating beignets.
Elegy for an undead lady
Mark Twain called New Orleans and upholstered sewer. I always called it a dirty lady with a pretty dress.
Well her dress has been pushed up over her knees. It’s tattered, worn, even torn in a few places but she’s back. She’s going out every night making money. A little cheap make up on the bruises and she’s almost as pretty…if the street lights are dim.
And they’re always a little dim.
She’s a filthy lady, she’s dirty deep down inside, but she works hard and she works alone. People have tried to pimp her, unionize her and franchise her, but New Orleans works for no one and can never be conformed or duplicated. She’s walking the boulevard with a limp right now, but she’s proud and it keeps her spine straight.
You can love her, buy her gifts and sacrifice your good health and well being to her an hour at a time and she’ll whisper in your ear and fill your mouth and knock you cold. She has a story to tell you but you have to ply her, cajole and caress her. She’ll tell you her story, but the price is steep.
She’s a beautiful lady, New Orleans, a fiery slut with good manners, the kind of girl you only let your mom meet briefly for fear your secrets will be spilled.