cleaning stuff and rags is generally more work than I like to do.
I have to say that it’s always more rewarding to clean when it makes a big difference. That is, cleaning the floors every week wouldn’t be nearly as cool as doing it every three or four months (I think the last time I did it was on Father’s Day – but it might have been Mother’s Day, I don’t remember for sure), because when you do it every few months the difference is visible and you (I) actually feel like you’re (I’m) accomplishing something.
I’d rather clean a nastydirty, horribly neglected, filled-with-trash house than one that just needed some dusting and vacuuming. Is that weird?
(I should point out that I don’t usually wait ’til things get nastydirty around here before I clean. I do clean before it gets to the point of filth – but it’s just not as satisfying.)
* * *
While I was in Maine, Fred happened to come across the
Comedy Central Roast of Flavor Flav, and he thought the opening comic was funny enough that he recorded it so I could watch it, too. A few weeks ago we watched it, and I thought the opening comic – Greg Giraldo – was funny enough that I did a Netflix search on him, and ended up putting the Pamela Anderson roast in my queue because it looked like such a trainwreck, and then stumbled across the Denis Leary roast, so put that in my queue as well.
Last weekend, we watched both of the roasts, and they were polar opposites. The Pamela Anderson roast was totally trainwreck, with every comic mentioning her huge v@gina and Tommy Lee’s huge c0ck, Courtney Love made an ass out of herself, and it was just mostly annoying and not particularly amusing. Then we watched Denis Leary’s roast, and it was funny, it was WAY less mean-spirited, and it was pretty much what I wanted to see.
During the Flavor Flav roast, the majority of the comics referred to Brigitte Nielsen’s huge v@gina and during the Pamela Anderson roast, they did the same about hers. So am I getting this right – if you have nothing of substance to mock about a woman, you talk about her huge v@gina? Is that how that works? Because really, that’s kind of boring. If you’ve got nothing of substance to mock, then don’t even try it. “Huge v@gina” is really only funny the first thirty times.
Greg Giraldo and
Lisa Lampanelli were funny, though. And for that matter,
Carrot Top was funnier than I expected.
* * *
Thank you, by the way, for all the suggestions y’all gave when I asked what I should plant outside the kitchen window to block the view from the kitchen window to the deck next door. We considered them all, and then we turned to the experts – Fred’s parents – and among their suggestions were butterfly bushes and rose of sharon bushes, and so we decided to go in that direction. Fred stopped on his way home and bought three butterfly bushes and two rose of sharons, and hopefully they’ll grow well and quickly so that the people next door won’t think I do nothing but stand at the sink and stare at them.
Though to be honest, I’m not sure they can even see me standing there. When Fred was unloading the bushes from his car, he said he could barely see me standing there watching him like a stalker. I’ve been thinking about buying sheer curtains for the kitchen window (another good suggestion in my comments – did I mention y’all rock?), but I think a quick experiment is in order* to see if they can even SEE me standing there. It also might help to keep the blinds down – open, but down; I’ve been pulling them up partway because… I like seeing out! – to block the view of me standing there, looking all Mrs. Kravitz-y.
I do need to get curtains for my bedroom windows, though. Sometimes the lights of cars going by shine in my windows, and it can be annoying at night.
I’ll be in Huntsville later today, so I may check and see what Target’s got for curtains. Most likely what I’ll do is look, not see anything I like, and put it off for another six months.
I’m a good procrastinator.
*The experiment of which I speak would be Fred going out and seeing if he can see inside the house from a distance approximating where the deck next door is located. Though perhaps a more interesting experiment would be to stand nekkid in front of the window and see if the people next door cringe in horror.
* * *
“Believe it or not! I’m walking on air! I never thought I could feel so free-hee-hee! Flying away! On a wing and a prayer!
Who could it be?! Believe it or not it’s just meeeeeeeeeee!”
“You just talk to the paw, you hear me? TALK TO THE PAW. I’ve been sitting in line waiting for the snuggles for A REALLY LONG TIME, and if you think you’re just going to scoot in line and be all ‘Oh, I’m so cute! I’m all orange and fluffy! Don’t you want to cuddle me?’, you are very mistaken, Mister. VERY mistaken. Those snuggles have MY name all over them, so you just back off!”
“Is it snackin’ time yet?”
The kittens are doing well. They run around and around and around that kitten room so hard, I swear one day they’re going to come right through the floor. And they’ve gotten MEAN in the last week. They used to just climb on me and cuddle and purr, and now I go in, and they’re biting my toes, they’re climbing up my back, they’re eating my hair. I swear, they scratch me so much with those sharp little claws, I walk out of there, I look like I’ve been in a knife fight.
They’re lucky they’re cute and have big ol’ potbellies. Who can resist a kitten with a potbelly? Not I.
***************************************
“Iiiiiiiiii am the Staaaaaaaank of
constant sorrowwwwwwww
I’ve seen no snuggles in my day.
Iiiiiiiiii bid fareweeeeeeeell to that old Boogiiiiiiiiiiee
The one who taaaaaaught me all ’bout rage.”
(“I taught her allllllll ’bout that Boogie rage.”)
***************************************
“Tommy-o? Wherefore art thou, my Tommy-o?”
Please note that the peachy-pink on her ears matches the laundry room wall nicely. Cats should always complement the decor. It makes for a cozier home environment.
* * *
Previously
2006: Sugarbutt lolled seductively on the counter, giving me his best “Hey Momma, what you got there for the Sugarman?” eyes.
2005: I’m sure I’ll get used to it, though, the way I got used to the neighborhood kids always running across our yard and always setting up shop in our driveway.
2004: No entry.
2003: Immediately, screaming like a little girl, Fred levitated across the room to the fireplace, where he began dancing a jig, slapping at his legs, and screaming intermittently.
2002: But it’s still tempting.
2001: J’accuse.
2000: No entry.]]>