frog are belong to us.
(Make sure you click on the picture to get to the rest of the pictures; they’re worth checking out. I laughed my ass off.)
PS: I’ll find my frog. Who took my frog?
* * *
“Golly,” I said to Fred on Friday afternoon. “We have SO much money laying around. I feel like we should just up and spend it on something, but I can’t think of what. It’s just sitting there in a corner of the room taking up space and getting dusty.”
“But Bessie,” Fred said. “We’ve made a big dent in that pile of money already. Remember how much it cost to take Spot to the emergency vet? And then the regular vet? Why, it took two garbage bags full of money for that alone!”
“You’re right,” I mused. “I guess we’ll just leave it alone for now. I do wish I could clean that corner, though.”
“Maybe this weekend we’ll move the humongous pile of money from that corner to another, and you can vacuum up the dead spiders and dust,” Fred suggested.
“Good idea!” I said. “Now give me a kiss, I’m going to drive to the other side of Huntsville in rush-hour traffic to return my Holter monitor. I’m sure it will be neither annoying nor frustrating, and I’ll be back home lickety-split!”
Fred kissed me, and I left. The Warren Brothers CD is still in my Jeep, so I turned the stereo up and sang along when I knew the words. It took a damn long time to get just a few miles down the road, and I hit every red light I possibly could.
I was sitting at a red light at the corner of Wynn and University (for those of you in the area) when I heard a loud grinding sound, and my Jeep lurched forward a little bit.
“What the hell?” I said. It almost sounded like I’d been hit from behind, but when I glanced in my rearview mirror, the guy behind me was chatting it up with the woman next to him and didn’t look particularly guilty. My second thought was that maybe something had fallen off the bottom of my Jeep – maybe the muffler? Do cars still have mufflers? – and I inched forward a little to see if I could hear the sound of a muffler dragging on the road.
I heard nothing, and then the light turned green and I began driving.
“What the -?” I said, realizing that it was really hard to move either left or right. I started to wonder if the entire underside of my Jeep had dropped out or something, and began looking for somewhere to pull over. I saw a fairly empty parking lot and had to pull really hard on the wheel to go far enough to the right to pull in and park at an angle.
I picked up the cell phone and called Fred, who told me to call AAA and he’d be there in a few minutes. I called AAA, tried to explain exactly where I was and what the problem was, and was told it would be about a 45 minute wait. I called Fred to let him know, and then the call waiting beeped. I picked up that call, and was told that it’d really be more like an hour.
I was sitting in my Jeep staring off into space and chewing on a fingernail when Fred pulled in beside me, got out of his car, knocked on the passenger’s side window, scaring the shit out of me. I gave him the key to my Jeep so he could see what the problem was for himself, and got into his car. He drove the Jeep around the parking lot for a few minutes, checked to be sure I wasn’t out of power steering fluid (or whatever the fuck it’s called), then shut the Jeep off and joined me in his car.
We passed the time watching the incredible number of birds settling on the telephone wire in front of Kinko’s. There were hundreds of them, all trying to find a place on this particular section of wire for some reason, and everything would be calm for a few minutes, and then a big truck or loud car would come along and spook them, and they’d all fly off, circle around a little bit, and then come back and try to settle on the same bit of wire. I don’t know if that particular piece of wire was warm, or what, but there were some bitter, squawking fights as all the birds tried to fit.
Almost an hour to the minute, we spotted the tow truck. Fred got out to wave him down, and then my cell phone rang. It was AAA checking to see if the tow truck had arrived yet.
AAA rocks. Just in case you were wondering. Cell phones do, too.
We went home and waited for the guy from the car repair place to call, and within the hour he did. The problem was apparently a chain reaction started by a bolt snapping, causing a belt to slip out of place, and then blah blah blah cartalkcakes.
Buh-bye, pile of money. It was nice having you, if even for a little while.
(The Jeep was done by Saturday afternoon, and it seems to be running just fine. I returned the Holter monitor this morning after I fed the cats at the pet store.)
* * *
There is a woman who works at the grocery store we frequent. Her name is Dorothy, and now every time I see her I want to scream
“I’m DORFY!”.
I haven’t yet, but I can’t promise I’ll be able to resist for much longer.
* * *
Man, I’ve been a cleaning machine these past few days. Yesterday I cleaned the entire upstairs INCLUDING DUSTING (which I hate to do for some stupid reason – I mean, it takes like 10 minutes tops, but I go ages and ages without dusting), changed the sheets on my bed AND Fred’s, put the table that was by the bed in the master bedroom back in Fred’s room and moved the bedside table by Fred’s bed back in the master bedroom, then I vacuumed the entire upstairs INCLUDING the spud’s room.
Today, I cleaned the downstairs bathroom (and it’s been a really long time. I shudder to think how long. I have no idea why I skip cleaning it for so long because, again, it takes maybe ten minutes. Can I claim that we rarely turn the light on in there, so I never notice how nasty it’s gotten?), vacuumed the entire upstairs AND the staircase, and cleaned all the hardwood/ tile floors downstairs using my handy dandy Hoover Floormate.
Tomorrow, I’m going to dust the entire downstairs and then maybe clean the garage. If I start feeling really adventurous, I’ll go around the house and dust all the floorboards (don’t count on it, though). I also need to really scrub down the kitchen, because (yet again) it’s been quite a while since I did that (though I do wipe down the counters and scrub the sink every day. Give me some credit, eh?).
If I were pregnant (calm down, I’m not) I’d say I was nesting. As it is, I guess it’s just one of those multi-day bursts of energy that come along for no explainable reason. If I could figure out what causes those bursts of energy and force them to come along, say, twice a week, that would rock. Maybe crackcocaine? I understand that gives you some energy. But then there’s that pesky “addiction” thing, and I just can’t handle the thought of wasting roughly five years of my life as a crack ho before I hit rock bottom and go into rehab. Somehow I think Fred wouldn’t have the patience to wait for me, though I could be wrong. How does it go again? Love
is patient, love is kind, love waits for his crack ho wife to hit rock bottom… ?
* * *
Hey, remember several months ago when I mentioned that I had started Seasonale and had break-through bleeding for most of the third month before I had my period? And remember how a bunch of you were all “Yeah, you’re going to have breakthrough bleeding the entire time, sucks to be you. Ha!” and then a few months later (during my second three months with Seasonale) I mentioned that I’d had several days of breakthrough bleeding with Seasonale during the third month, and a bunch of you (possibly the same bunch, though I can’t guarantee it) said “I SAID you were going to have breakthrough bleeding. Just accept it, and find a better birth control method. Geez!”?
Hi there. I’d like to announce that on Saturday I took the last pill of my third three-month Seasonale pack, and guess what? No breakthrough bleeding. Not a single solitary drop of blood, not one.
So there!
(See? I told y’all I was going to give it a year for my body to adjust before I declared it a failure. And it’s been nine months, and I declare it NOT a failure. In case you were wondering.)
* * *
“I am so pretty that it literally causes me pain.”
* * *]]>