* * *
Over the last two or three times I’ve had my period, I’ve given the Instead Cup a try. I like the way it works – it’s not as irritating to my lady parts as tampons tend to be, if you must know – but I have an issue with it leaking. Those of you who’ve tried the Diva Cup, would you recommend it? I might give it a try if anyone out there highly recommends it. I don’t want to go back to tampons, because the fucking string irritates the delicate membranes of the Down There area IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.
(Please stop thinking about my Down There area, please. Pervs.)
* * *
The other night, Fred and I were laying down in Smallville talking before he left for Madison for the night.
“I’m a little worried that the washer and dryer won’t fit,” he said. The space where they’re supposed to fit, in the laundry room, is definitely smaller than the space where they fit in Madison.
“We did measure, though,” he remembered. “We decided they’d fit, but it would be a tight fit.”
I looked at him sideways. “But you know what? We didn’t measure the depth, only the width!”
He looked at me. “What’s with the smug look?”
“I’m not looking smug, I’m looking RUEFUL,” I said.
“You need to practice that look in the mirror some more,” said
fuckhead jackass Fred.
“I can’t help it if after eleven years you can’t interpret the look on my face!” I snapped.
Honest to christ. This is me, looking rueful:
(Yes, I need to have my eyebrows waxed. You may shut up now.)
This is me looking smug:
You’d think he’d notice the very obvious difference between the two.
MEN.
* * *
It’s perhaps a sign of how very much I need a life that I spent too much time thinking about the ringtones on my phone. Ever since I got the new Razr phone, I’ve had Green Day’s Basket Case assigned to Fred’s work and cell phone numbers (Do you have the time/ to listen to me whine/ about nothing/ and everything all at once/ I am one of those/ melodramatic fools/ neurotic to the bone/ no doubt about it), and I had gotten a bit bored, but couldn’t decide what to use instead.
Then I was struck with inspiration yesterday morning when I woke up with a song in my head, and when I thought about it later in the day, I did a quick Google search, and found that someone had conveniently made a ringtone out of it.
So now when Fred calls from his work or cell phone number, Shpadoinkle Day from Cannibal! The Musical plays, and it makes me giggle like mad.
Get it yourself,
here.
On a related note, Cannibal! The Musical is worth checking out, if only for the music. Even as a college student, Trey Parker knew how to write a catchy tune. Say what you will about the man, he’s talented as shit.
Annnnnd speaking of Trey Parker, if you haven’t checked out the episode of South Park entitled
The Snuke, you totally should. Cartman as Jack Bauer is not to be missed.
* * *
I was in Target Monday morning, and as I was going down the cat food and litter aisle, I glanced over, saw this bottle of stuff and said to myself “Wait. Did that say “Strange Odor Removal”? Because I NEED me some of that!”
I read it wrong, though. Too bad. I think everyone has the occasional Strange Odor issue.
* * *
Cleanliness is next to Sugliness.
A rare picture of five of the six. (Spanky was off somewhere napping) Left to right: Miz Poo, Tommy, Spot, Mister Boogers, Sugarbutt.
Miz Poo: “I don’t EVEN know who she thinks she is, all rolling around on the ground taunting us. Doesn’t she know that WE are the favorites? We get a snack every night! We get warm places to sleep! We get love and scritches!”
Tom: “You do realize that she gets all that stuff, too, PLUS she gets to run around outside wherever she wants, right?”
Mister Boogers: ::HATE::
* * *
Previously
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: “Bessie, Jayson Blair is black.”
2003: No entry.
2002: I hate it when there’s a web page touting some wonderful product, but you CANNOT place an online order.
2001: SIR! RECRUIT BITCHYPOO IS DONE WITH HER ENTRY AND READY TO POST IT, SIR!
2000: we watched the ultra-crappy
End of Days last night ]]>