Not The Turkey-Carving Stabbing Story You Were Expecting

I have come to the realization that my friends accept my blogging as a means for me to express my inner self.  They’ve also come to expect a wiseass sarcastic bitch who likes to rant on about the terminally painful experience of filling up the gas tank every week or cleaning out the bathroom drawer.  (Incidentally, I found ten boxes of dental floss in there.  Ten!  Who the fuck has ten boxes of dental floss?  We should use that to string up the dog when she pees on the floor…No, I’m not really considering that, put the phone down.  PETA doesn’t give a shit about me and my dog anyway…they’re more worried about the seal hunt….oh, yeah…don’t look over there.  Move along peeps…nothing to see there…did I ever tell you the story about how I stabbed myself in the arm while carving a turkey?  True story.)  The sealers are now forming a posse to down my blog.  What…my distraction story about the turkey-carving incident wasn’t sufficient?  Crap.

dental floss

Anywho, my friends think my idle rambling is probably good for my mental health…and their eardrums.  I know for a fact that I was a bit inebriated on Friday night and I started droning on about shit I can’t even remember.  Shit.  Dammit…what was it?  It doesn’t matter…what does matter is that they are not bored to tears listening to me ramble on about how my brand new kitchen table has little itty bitty stab marks all over it from D1 doing her ‘building-a-leg-bone-out-of-Styrofoam-project’.  Yep.  Stab marks.  Hubby is still having a coronary…

They (ma peeps) are so supportive…and non-judgmental.  It’s really quite unusual, I think.  They just think my blog is like that scar from the turkey- carving incident.  A part of me that’s not going away so they might as well read my shit and move on, or ignore my shit and move on.   Either way, it’s all good.  And I can usually tell who’s read my blog posts.If I refer to the cart I took to the grocery store as my ‘special needs’ one, and I get a snigger from one of the peeps, I know that she’s read a post I did about shopping.  Same as if I refer to something else I wrote in a previous post that I can’t remember right now because it’s Monday and I’m lucky if I remember my fucking name, and I get a similar reaction and not a look that says “OMG she’s fucking insane and gone and drank the funny kool-aid again’, then I know that she has read what I wrote.  So I can tell.

God, that so sounded like a threat.  I meant it in a totally accepting and non-threatening kind of way.  Just like when I told a co-worker to ‘man-up’.  Totally non-threatening and acquiescent.  See?  Not only are you reading an idle rambling of somebody who needs to find inner peace through bead work, your vocabulary is improving.  I should be listed under the ‘educational’ blogs.  You’re learning shit, yo.

So, in closing,  my peeps are supportive and awesome, sealers are hunting seals, I stabbed myself while carving a turkey and have the scar to prove it and we are in the possession of way too much dental floss.

The End

This And The Other Word

Friday squirrel

It’s finally Friday and I’m thankful that I have a gathering to look forward to.  I’ve been swilling around in doggie duties, laundry and work this week and I feel like I should sit back and drink a few with my buds.  My peeps.  Let’s eat, drink and be merry…not that we never are.  There’s plenty of frivolity in the ‘hood.  Maybe even a rendition of the Star Spangled Banner will be sung…okay, not exactly sung so much as strangled out from the vocal chords of a drunk woman strung out on the extreme amounts of alcohol and carbohydrate deprivation.  In my ever attempts at losing a few extra pounds of woman-mass, I have decided to restrict my carb intake while simultaneously upping my veggie/fruit combo.  Of course I refuse to totally do without wine, chocolate and coffee so they remain a steadfast part of my diet.  I should start my own regime and call it “The Winos Guide To Losing A Few Pounds While Still Enjoying Her Midlife Crisis In A Drunken Stuper”   The business plan practically writes itself.

Recent events have me yelling ‘Hell’s yah!’ in my jammies on my front lawn.   I was so going to provide links to the main story, but my lawyer, Vinnie Buttowski, has advised me that that  probably isn’t in my best interest. (as an aside, I hate the word ‘that’ and to use it double in a sentence has me near convulsions of grammatical anxiety so extreme I may just wet myself in spite) (as a double aside, this paragraph originally took up half the post, but again, I was advised to ‘shut the fuck up’ so, yeah.  This is it, yo)   So, instead I’ll distract you with this:

If you haven’t noticed and most of you haven’t as you can’t actually see me, my ‘no carb’ thing that I have been slaving at for two weeks has resulted in a little loss of sponge around my middle.  It’s going well and I am enjoying the freedom that only no- carb can do for you…eating multitudes of veggies and almonds and having peeps taunt me incessantly with croissants and cookies.  They’re fucking awesome.  They love me so much they feel the need to parade treats in front of me like a feral cat walking nonchalantly in front of an old person with a cane. Lovely, really…come a little closer I’ll show you the new cane I bought.  It’s very shiny and heavy….

Blind Shopping Forthwith

Last night was grocery night.  A veritable joyous occasion and of course I head to the mecca of all shopping locations, Costco.  There is NO good time to arrive at Costco unless it’s in the middle of a raging snowstorm and the population has decided not to endure the trek and remain home in their cozy houses snug as a bug.  Since we live around the corner, it’s hardly a trek but it is a royal ass-pain when it’s blocked to the gills with ‘out-of-towners’ who flock to their doors like the world is ending the next day and they HAVE TO HAVE the package of 12 toothbrushes for mega-sale price of $12.99. Not to mention the 100 rolls of toilet paper and the 50 pack of batteries.  Since it’s the ONLY Costco location in the province, we locals do have our ‘special’ visitation times.  Dinner hour is the most opportune, hence my decision to hit it forthwith.  I like that word ‘forthwith’…it’s a cop word.  “Boscorelli, I need a bus forthwith!”  Yeah.

Of course, I wind up with the ‘special needs’ cart.  You know the one.  The misshapen rusted bucket of steel with the wonky wheel that heads in the totally opposite direction in which I want to go and it seems to swing at total random times forcing me to apologize to every other person the cart rear ends.  Yeah, that one.  That’s the one I get EVERY TIME.  It’s like it has a homing device on me and locks me into its path the second I step into the doors.   ‘Oh, look SHE’S here.  SHE’LL take me’. Ugh.  AND now, my eyes are giving me sauce, so I look like Mr. Magoo trying to figure out the aisles and what’s down each of them with my cart haphazardly banging into shelves and people at an alarming rate.   My squinted gaze at the deodorant aisle only heightened my attractive gait as I swung my cart to the left, meaning to go right and narrowly missing an old couple with a cart full of toothbrushes.  I guess those were for the visiting grandkids every weekend…. I thought they were going to call security on me until I swung the cart around towards the bedding aisle and crashed into the shelves of duvet covers and down filled pillows.  Nice save, Rogue.  I rock.

MAGOO TOAST

I managed to end the painful shopping experience in under thirty so headed home before I counted any further casualties from the assault-cart.  I think people were grateful for my less-than-graceful departure.  I believe I even swore a couple of times in the presence of youngsters…they didn’t look shocked so I’m thinking Mommy and Daddy have encountered the ravaged ‘special needs’ cart a few times themselves….I unbagged my groceries a little while later to find a few items I didn’t realize I bought.  WTF do I need a package of 12 toothbrushes for?  I bet that old grandpa threw that in there when I wasn’t looking!  He had a shifty look to him….Dammit……

Anybody need a toothbrush?  Apparently I have enough for a small African village.

Anybody need a toothbrush? Apparently I have enough for a small African village.

 

The Eternal Question

Since the dawn of time, or the dawn of electricity, the eternal question of ‘does the light really stay on when you close the refrigerator door?’ has elicited even the most scholarly of persons to scratch their heads in collective wonder.   The unknown is always a frightening journey and this one is no less daunting.  The task of determining the answers to such life altering questions such as ‘if a tree falls in the forest does anybody hear it?’, ‘what is the true meaning of life?’ and ‘Why is Paris Hilton famous?’  has fallen to the most highly regarded intellects, revered for their intelligence and respected for their unique perspectives.    All have made summations based on scientific fact or philosophical pondering, but none have determined the ultimate answer.  Theories abound, yet citizens everywhere lie awake at night determined to discover the truth and unlock the secret to the eternal question.

fridge door

The quest for the answer has begun quite similarly to the quest for the Holy Grail.  The clues are right in one’s very own kitchen; the catch is to know what to look for.  Every two year old on the planet has spent hours opening  and closing the refrigerator door numerous times, staring blankly at the little light emanating from its depths wondering what it was doing there and is it still on keeping the Mini-Go’s from getting lonely?   Alas, we continue to wonder the same thing.  The light in the refrigerator has baffled many a genius, and two-year old alike, with its constant brilliance and warmth.  The clues, all held in the surrounding tile floor of the kitchen, are hidden to the naked eye, but at closer glance reveal the true answer; the one solid  reality that fails to be recognized.   We only see the light in the refrigerator because we have been conditioned to see it.  There isn’t one true light coming from the fridge, the light comes from the…oh, wait.  I was about to divulge the secret.  I can’t be held responsible for the ultimate secret being revealed to society at this juncture.  I’m afraid the world can’t handle that kind to truth, or that kind of mind-blowing genius.

The Eternal Question of ‘does the light stay on or go off when you close the refrigerator door?’ will ultimately be answered by future generations.  The brevity of such a revelation will transform the patterns of thought of philosophers and scientists alike for centuries.  Until that discovery, the secret is safe with me….

If this kid is in charge of discovering the answer, there could be trouble.

If this kid is in charge of discovering the answer, there could be trouble.