Category Archives: Misguided Musings

The Email

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The following is an actual email I JUST SENT to all of my DH ladies.  THEY’RE GOING TO BE AFTER ME SOON!!
  Enjoy…

Dear Things,

It is with a heavy heart that I must send you this email.  You have all been trusted and dear friends of mine and I realize this news may come as a shock to you, but I really must impart this most disturbing turn of events.

I don’t want you all to be dismayed by this news or have it shatter your ideal image of me (just go with it), but I feel you all must know the truth.  I have spent the better part of the afternoon rehearsing how I would say this without causing you pain or therapy for your families.  I have agonized how I would word it gently and without undue stress, however there is no easy way. 

I BURNED A BAG OF POPCORN. IT’S NOT JUST BURNT.  IT’S BLACK. TOTALLY INEDIBLE.  FUCKING TOTALLY BLACK. LIKE NOT EVEN REASONABLE.

There.  I’ve said it.  I’ve managed to pick out the white bits, but really it’s the goddamned microwave’s fault! 

THAT’S WHAT THE POPCORN BUTTON IS FOR. 

Seriously, if that button wasn’t there we would have to estimate the cooking time and who among us gives a shit about that? Oh, right.  Nurse Betty.  My bad.

Look it's Nurse Betty waiting for the popcorn!!

Look it’s Nurse Betty waiting for the popcorn!!

But other than Bree-Clone, who would stand at the microwave waiting for the popcorn to pop.  Watching minute after minute, interminable second after second as the popcorn slowly comes to white puffy heaven, only this time it went to black pieces of soot-like filth. I have more important shit to be at, like, HELLOOO, spider solitaire and ma wonderful stu-dents!  Ugh…

Anywho, I thought I would just let you all know this awful news before you heard it from God knows where and the RNC is called and they want all the surveillance tape from the cameras in the building to document what truly went down.

Jeesh, it’s not like I left a burned bag lying carelessly on the side of the road, or anything….

I appreciate your understanding and truly value our friendship.  I hope you all find a way to forgive me and move on from all of this undue tragedy.

Yours in popcorn-popping,

K

Loose Limbs

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There was a comment made at DH by Bestie the other night about her knee. She has been running and she suddenly developed this odd bump or ‘growth’ on the side of her right knee.  ( I bet she is soo impressed I’m telling you this right now.  She’ll be all “OMG I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU TOLD THE WORLD ABOUT MY KNEE-GROWTH!” And I’ll say “Calm down.  If you wanted to tell the world about half of the crap that seems to eek from my appendages, do you think I’d mind?!  Hell, no I’ve probs told everybody everything anyways, so go with it Sista!”  ‘Cause that’s how we roll)

Anywho, about the growth.  Yeah.  She said she laid off the running to see if it would magically disappear since she can’t risk injury. (it’s still there but on a smaller scale)  She needs to be able to stand up to make a living.  She’s a hairstylist (and not a nude artists’ model like I know all of you were thinking).   And a damned good one, peeps!  (that soooo makes up for my mentioning her knee-growth) 

That statement pretty much got me thinking… I don’t really need all my ‘appendages’ to be able to earn a living at what I do.  In fact, if I was missing a limb or two, it wouldn’t matter.   Not that I’m going to throw my arm into the nearest wood chipper or ‘accidentally’ fall in front of a moving lawn mower, but there is some comfort in knowing if my finger or toe or left hand suddenly detaches from my body, my life is not permanently ruined.  My career is not over.

 Maybe a little uncomfortable, I mean can you imagine trying to maneuver multiple hand puppets with just one hand?  Or trying to toe paint with only 4 toes?  (I’m figuring one toe missing from the dominant painting foot…provided you have two feet.  If not then that really sucks) 

See?  Stuff can be done with missing body parts.  Wait, what? 

I should clarify…one can still operate and function without ALL appendages just fine.  Not that you would do something with someone else’s detached limb like use it to clean the toilet or pick up the dog’s poop or touch somebody on the shoulder when he wasn’t looking and then stroke his cheek in a loving manner only for him to become abruptly aware the hand is kinda ‘manly’ and then he suddenly sees the man-hand as it independently moves around haphazardly and he screams like a little girl who just got her first cell phone.   No…not at all….

So not the hand I had envisioned but it will do in a pinch....

So not the hand I had envisioned but it will do in a pinch….

I noticed a spot on my arm that is different from the gagillion other spots I have on my arm.  It’s a great spot of pink.  So, I decided to Google ‘bright pink spot on my arm.’   Now I know why doctors HATE IT when patients Google shit.

 DON’T GOOGLE SHIT. They should have that sign on their door.  I should probs pay attention to it next time.  Apparently it has to be a certain shade of pink to qualify as ‘right’.  LIKE WHAT, A SALMON COLOR?!!

 

Hypochondriacs must have a hell of a time on Google.  Their doctors must ban Google or tell them to stay away from computers.  How would they be able to remain sane with all of the ‘this causes cancer’ and ‘you will die if you have this’ or ‘death is imminent; get out now while you still can’?    It reminds me of D1 who every time she gets a headache, she has a brain tumor. Or if she has a little pain, it must be a cancerous tumor that is spreading wildly or if she gets a hangnail, she’ll have to amputate her whole hand since gangrene is imminent. 

She’s the nursing student.

 I know.  Four years of hilarity coming ma way! 

And brain tumors…let’s not forget all the brain tumors.

Fart Dreams. What Else Is There?

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The voices in my head that reverberate incessantly are retaliating in the most resourceful way they can by imposing the oddest dreams imaginable during my REM or whatever it’s called, sleep.  Last night I dreamt about snot and farts.  No really.  The epitome of class and the higher echelons of elegance.  Snot and farts.  My dreams are awesome. 

At one point in the dream, I had a huge booger that was in my nose and the only way to extract it was with tweezers.  When I did, it was a green ball with spikes. Not that I usually pick my nose…or use tweezers for that purpose.  BUT A SNOT BALL WITH SPIKES?!  Who dreams up that shit?  Apparently, I do.  Twelve year old boys everywhere want me as their mom. 

Later in my dream I am participating in a ritual dance of sorts where I am prancing and flailing around as if to dance in procession when suddenly “SQQQQUUUUUEEEEETTTTTT” goes my ass in rhythm to the music.  I stop.  The AUDIENCE, yes, AUDIENCE, withdraws into silent disgust in my abhorrent display of gassiness.  With little choice but to look elsewhere in bewilderment as to the source of the fart, I blame it on a young faceless girl behind me.  “Oh, no that was all you princess” somebody said…I turn to a giggling audience and walk silently offstage, the blond girl following haplessly behind me only to hear, once again a “SSSQQQQUUUUEEEETTTT”.  That was her and I look appalled and not at all impressed that she had the absolute gall to copy me.  I am mortified that she just farted in front of MY AUDIENCE.  Wait…didn’t I just do that?  Yeah, but it’s okay for me.  I was dancing.  Totally justified.  And maybe a little fucked. up.

I’m not entirely sure why these dreams are haunting me in a most peculiar way.  There were other nuances to the dream that I can’t describe just for the mere fact they were so bizarre that I probably would not be able to do them justice.  I mean, when one dreams of spiked snot balls…it’s all a little weird isn’t it?

I’ve had weird dreams that involve people that have been dead for years.  The creepiest one was the other night.  I dreamt I was at my brother’s funeral again. He died in 1986 in a motorcycle accident.  I dreamt that I was at his funeral, but it wasn’t HIS  funeral.  it was different with different people and my boss was there.  There was nowhere for family to sit as our seats were taken and I kept saying “This isn’t my brother’s funeral. That was a long time ago.  This isn’t it” and then the dream ended.  I found out last week, one of the DH lady’s cousin died tragically in a motorcycle accident the day after I had that dream.   Kinda creepy, huh?  As I learned more about him, he closely mirrored my brother….

So, I’m hoping my dream tonight isn’t a tragic one.  I’ll also take one without the spikey snot balls and farts, thank you very much. Maybe one involving Johnny Depp and chocolate???  Hmmm….

 

My sign...notice the decorative heart and flowers...I think Hubby should rethink his position on this. It's awesome

What I said after all my dreaming…

Attack of The Crows

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Current events in our city has prompted this drawing.  Crows are attacking innocent peeps in a terrifying Hitchockian manner!  Residents walking downtown minding their own business and totally not shouting or mocking the birds.  Observe:

A picture is worth a thousand words...or at least a few hundred

A picture is worth a thousand words…or at least a few hundred

Now you are officially informed.

Pray for us….or send slingshots.  At least that way we could charge admission to the public for their chance to play the game called “Scare The Crap out of the Crows” If someone actually hits one, they win a free bucket o’chicken.

Artwork by Kayjai

 

 

Shit I Did This Weekend

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Played The Board Game from Hell

I think my family is expecting a post about the perils of the game Trouble.  Then again, I think my family expects more from me in general, anyways so, here.  Don’t say I don’t do anything for you guys.  Geesh, stop bothering me will ‘ya?  It’s like having Erkel around all the time.  GAAAAAWWWWWD. What’s wrong wit…sorry. Babbling.  Okay you can start reading now…orrrrr now.  Now?  Yeah, now. 

The devil's invention that sends me into fits of swearing and air punching. I commend thee!

The devil’s invention that sends me into fits of swearing and air punching. I compel thee!

Have you played this raunchy-when-I-play-it- over-the-top not-for-little-kids-mutha-of-a-game?!  One minute into the throws of punching that plastic bubble in the middle and I was calling my sis-in-law a 6-whore and demanding a replay from my niece.  My poor 79 year old mother-in-law must have thought I was possessed or have been negatively influenced from living in the city too long.  She stayed quiet while I fiercely pounded the bubble as the dice inside REFUSED to turn over to a number 6. The number 6 is necessary to even begin the game.  You know, 6…Devil, Beast, Asshole…(If you’re a Trouble virgin like I was, I’ll give you the condensed Kayjai version of the game.  You. Are. Welcome.

You have 5 game pieces who are safely ensconced in ‘home’ position.  The object is to get your 5 homies into a safe house, but first you have to wander aimlessly around the neighbourhood, but watch out!  The crackheads are out and gunning for your ass, so it’s survival of the fittest.  You get them, before they get you.  You nail their asses before they have a chance to say “I need a fix!”  Got it?   It’s probs. not supposed to have ‘crack’ references or raucous swearing and bouts of fist-flinging…or insulting commentary, but I was trying to bring it to a level most people relate to.  Not that you relate to crackheads…or strangers chasing you down and calling you names in your neighbourhood.  Or maybe you do. I don’t know…I don’t know where you live…anymore.)

 I finally made it out onto the actual playing board and when I did I was gunnin’ for 6-whore and whoever else got in ma way.  I think I obliterated my mother-in-law a few gagillion times and inspired a mob mentality by getting my niece to chase after her momma with ire and determined fury.  Yeah.  I think the Devil was having a grand ol’ time watching me morph into some evil-crazed sociopath looking for a little payback and attacking any innocent bystanders who may be present.  I was half expecting the arrival of a priest to hose me down with incense and holy water. I think I caused my mother-in-law to fall into immediate prayer and beg for my salvation…we played two games.  Niece had to go to work…pfft…LIKE THAT WAS IMPORTANT. WE WERE PLAYING TROUBLE FOR GOD’S SAKE!  WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!  Anyway, they said I had to let her go, so after my final head-spin, I think I won the second game…AND, I wasn’t even the slightest bit drunk.  Ha!  I WIN! 

 

Played Card Games and ‘Borrowed’ A Truck

I played mother-in-law in two games of cards before suggesting we go to the next town a half-an-hour away for lunch.  Incidentally, I won the last game.  AND, I wasn’t even drunk.  Ha!  I WIN!  The kicker?  You know that Hubby bought a nice shiny brand new truck in November, right?  You know that I have never driven nice shiny brand new truck, right?  You know that he so BLATANTLY left his truck keys on the counter, PURPOSEFULLY pointing out to me where he left them while he and son and his bro went fishing.  AND, it was mother-in-law’s birthday..so of course I had to treat her to lunch.  In the next town.  And invite sis-in-law and her crew.  AND HOW WAS I GOING TO GET HER THERE???!!  Dat’s right…the nice shiny brand new truck that I have never driven before, of course!  Duh….

What?  I texted Hubby…

AFTER I had arrived at lunch and parked said nice shiny brand new truck FAR AWAY FROM EVERY LIVING THING IMAGINABLE, lest there be denting or scratching or heavy breathing on it. 

See?  Everything was fine. 

Observe:

Me:  I took the truck to take YOUR mother out to lunch since EVERYBODY ELSE IS GONE.

Hubby: K. Where did you go?  And have you reached your destination?  (he thinks everybody is watching him and reading his texts, so he remains formal like he’s met me maybe once in his whole life…unless he’s pissed at me.  Then he feels the need to speak like a sailor.  Bastard.)

Me: We are meeting sis and Niece at Gibsons for lunch in GFW.  We are here now.  The truck drives itself!!  I don’t know why I haven’t driven it before!

Hubby:  YOU DROVE MY TRUCK TO GFW??!!!!!!

Me:  YOUR MOTHER wants to know if she needs to get the frying pan ready.  (subtly trying to change the subject)

Hubby: You haven’t driven my truck because I don’t want you to.

Me:  Why not?  I’m like RainMan.  I’m an excellent driver.

Hubby:  EXACTLY.  Please be careful with my truck.  I luvs her right.

Me:  Well, maybe you should marry it then.

Hubby:  What?

Me: Ugh…never mind…

I’m so mature….