I’m going away for the weekend to our little “resort” (mwahahahaha! We so got suckered with that one). Of course, I’m not going alone, that would be too peaceful. I’m going with the fam. I might make it back with a full head of hair.
At any rate, I’m happy to announce the arrival of my first flower of the season. Everyone welcome little Purple Crocus.
P.C. will be joined by millions of baby brothers and sisters sometimes soon. Seems our new yard is overrun with the little fuckers. Not my favorite flower, you know, but I will certainly celebrate any color (other than white) in my soon-to-be gorgeous flower beds. Seriously, I can’t wait to the weather lets me get out and grow things. I’m getting better each year. Shoot, I almost never kill anything now.
In other news, Baby bypassed the “Terrible Twos” and went straight into “OMG!-I-said-NO Threes”. Is there even a category for this age? Last night my little devil angel poured chocolate milk in the guinea pig cage (more on that to come), ripped off the new wallpaper- in two different areas of the house – and whacked the hell out of my glasses- while they were on my head (popped the damned lens right out). That’s just one day. I could keep track daily, but really, do we want a public record of the insanity?
TheMan didn’t go to work today because he had a flat tire. Yes, we have a jack. Yes, we have a jack handle. Yes, our yard is flat (so no danger of slippage). Yes, TheMan worked on heavy machinery in the Army for five years. Yes, TheMan called AAA to come change that fucking tire. Mwahahahahaha!* And who does AAA send out? Some old man that really should be retired and probably can’t see over the steering wheel of that big ol’ wrecker. And to make it even better the men folk were going to tow that damned car to the garage instead of changing that tire right here. I had to put my foot down right there. “Wouldn’t the two of you feel bad if I came out, still in my jammies, and did that shit myself?” (this was at 8 am). They managed to work that tire off in just under 20 minutes. Hahahahaha! That would’ve had my ass laughing all day long if that old man hadn’t backed that damned trailer over one of my flower beds, that bastard.
For all you men who may not be able to change a tire, please keep in mind that in my neck of the boondocks it’s practically required of men to know how to work on cars. Shoot, I can do all that stuff from watching the men in my family build and rebuild all kinds of cars. And my husband did this shit in the Army. What’s up with that? Laugh I must!
Ok, on to other things.
I went to the Dr. today and, as usual, the bitch didn’t hear a word I said. I gave her the symptoms of my episodes and instead of putting them together to form one illness (based on the longevity, the frequency, and how they’re all tied together), she decided that I’m not sleeping enough and I have gastrosomething. Huh? Did I forget to mention that the last time I was there I had the same problem? Yes, yes, I’m hunting for yet another Dr. who will tell me that I don’t know what’s going on with my body and that I’m imagining that all these things are connected. But until then… Oh! And the idiot forgot that she diagnosed me with valve prolapse. Of course, she might remember this shit if she shut her fucking piehole and listened to what I had to say. But she didn’t. “Rush, rush, rush, I’m so goddamned important I don’t need to hear your whining, must rush and make more money”. Gah! If it was legal I’d smack the shit right out of that chick. Small town doctors have a seriously inflated sense of self-importance. I live in a small town. I hate our doctors. I want to go to Chicago County General and have Luka examine me- all day long. I’ll even go back for seconds. Why can’t we have a Luka here?
Now, about that damned guinea pig. I would post a picture, but I’m lazy and really, really don’t want to bother. The Mother and Lil’ Sis brought her here because The Mother thought Other Sis was mean to her (the rodent). She says “Lily-pig (her real name) is really good and won’t make messes. All you have to do is feed her, clean her cage and hold her”.** Ok, fine. No, I’m not going to mention that The Mother is concerned about the guinea pig and not-so-much about Lil’ Sis. Let’s leave that rant alone for now. Ok, so TheMan agrees. It’s just a little thing, how much of a mess could it make? Right? Holy shit balls, but that little thing sheds buckets full of hair every single day. I held her and turned into a giant furball myself. I even tried to brush her, but it was no help. This doesn’t bother me, but TheMan is seriously hair phobic. It’s unnatural, no lie. Lily-pig has been with us since last Friday and he has run the vacuum around her cage twice a day every single day. He will not touch her (though he will push lettuce through her cage bars) and he doesn’t want her out of her cage ever. He even declared that there was guinea pig hair in his lunch the other day. I happily helpfully pointed out that his lunch was from a box and how the hell could her hair get in there? Add that to Baby’s attempts at getting the poor creature to squeak (terrible threes!) and that was it. Lily-pig must go back.
Which means that The Mother’s feelings are hurt. Hmmph. Goddamned egg shells and shit.
Good news, though. TheMan has agreed to a small, short-haired dog. He declared “If we’re going to have an animal with that much hair we might as well have one I can have fun with.” Oh, he shouldn’t have said that because the hunt is on! I’m holding him to what he said, better believe that shit. It’s on now! I’d love to have a dog, a cat, and a guinea pig, but TheMan is hair-phobic, dude. That might seriously kill him.*** Now, Lil’ Miss and I have to decide what kind of dog we want. TheMan said he gets to decide, but he doesn’t realize that he gets no say. I just promise not to get a long-haired dog. Other than that. . . sucks to be him. Anyway, he’s too busy trying to decide how to tell Millie we’re getting a dog for in the house around the baby (toddler). I’m sure she’ll have lots to say, but I ain’t hearing any of it. She’ll try to break TheMan down again, but I’m pretty sure it won’t work this time. Hahaha! Suck it, beotch! I win, I win, I win! Oh…ahem…
On to other things. Lil’ Miss wants to get her tongue pierced for her sixteenth birthday. Of course, I laughed til I cried. Of course, she stomped and told me she hated me. And, of course, she wanted to compromise with a belly ring. Ha! When that didn’t work, well she pierced her own nose. Good grief! I didn’t say anything, though, because when I was 17 I did the same thing- and had it for 5 years. Yup, seems to me I have another me. No wonder she’s so hard-headed.:)
And that concludes this issue of News à la Jennyjinx. Keep your eyes peeled for your next issue- highlighting someone’s hilarity and/or earthworms.
* I know you’re not supposed to laugh at your spouse in public, but c’mon this was just too good.
** I love animals and have no problem with these requirements. TheMan, though, has issues.
*** There’s some serious stories behind all this, but I’m not getting into that right now. I’m not trying to be too serious right now.
News ࣎ la Jennyjinx
I’m going away for the weekend to our little “resort” (mwahahahaha! We so got suckered with that one). Of course, I’m not going alone, that would be too peaceful. I’m going with the fam. I might make it back with a full head of hair.
At any rate, I’m happy to announce the arrival of my first flower of the season. Everyone welcome little Purple Crocus.
P.C. will be joined by millions of baby brothers and sisters sometimes soon. Seems our new yard is overrun with the little fuckers. Not my favorite flower, you know, but I will certainly celebrate any color (other than white) in my soon-to-be gorgeous flower beds. Seriously, I can’t wait to the weather lets me get out and grow things. I’m getting better each year. Shoot, I almost never kill anything now.
In other news, Baby bypassed the “Terrible Twos” and went straight into “OMG!-I-said-NO Threes”. Is there even a category for this age? Last night my little
devilangel poured chocolate milk in the guinea pig cage (more on that to come), ripped off the new wallpaper- in two different areas of the house – and whacked the hell out of my glasses- while they were on my head (popped the damned lens right out). That’s just one day. I could keep track daily, but really, do we want a public record of the insanity?TheMan didn’t go to work today because he had a flat tire. Yes, we have a jack. Yes, we have a jack handle. Yes, our yard is flat (so no danger of slippage). Yes, TheMan worked on heavy machinery in the Army for five years. Yes, TheMan called AAA to come change that fucking tire. Mwahahahahaha!* And who does AAA send out? Some old man that really should be retired and probably can’t see over the steering wheel of that big ol’ wrecker. And to make it even better the men folk were going to tow that damned car to the garage instead of changing that tire right here. I had to put my foot down right there. “Wouldn’t the two of you feel bad if I came out, still in my jammies, and did that shit myself?” (this was at 8 am). They managed to work that tire off in just under 20 minutes. Hahahahaha! That would’ve had my ass laughing all day long if that old man hadn’t backed that damned trailer over one of my flower beds, that bastard.
For all you men who may not be able to change a tire, please keep in mind that in my neck of the boondocks it’s practically required of men to know how to work on cars. Shoot, I can do all that stuff from watching the men in my family build and rebuild all kinds of cars. And my husband did this shit in the Army. What’s up with that? Laugh I must!
Ok, on to other things.
I went to the Dr. today and, as usual, the bitch didn’t hear a word I said. I gave her the symptoms of my episodes and instead of putting them together to form one illness (based on the longevity, the frequency, and how they’re all tied together), she decided that I’m not sleeping enough and I have gastrosomething. Huh? Did I forget to mention that the last time I was there I had the same problem? Yes, yes, I’m hunting for yet another Dr. who will tell me that I don’t know what’s going on with my body and that I’m imagining that all these things are connected. But until then… Oh! And the idiot forgot that she diagnosed me with valve prolapse. Of course, she might remember this shit if she shut her fucking piehole and listened to what I had to say. But she didn’t. “Rush, rush, rush, I’m so goddamned important I don’t need to hear your whining, must rush and make more money”. Gah! If it was legal I’d smack the shit right out of that chick. Small town doctors have a seriously inflated sense of self-importance. I live in a small town. I hate our doctors. I want to go to Chicago County General and have Luka examine me- all day long. I’ll even go back for seconds. Why can’t we have a Luka here?
Now, about that damned guinea pig. I would post a picture, but I’m lazy and really, really don’t want to bother. The Mother and Lil’ Sis brought her here because The Mother thought Other Sis was mean to her (the rodent). She says “Lily-pig (her real name) is really good and won’t make messes. All you have to do is feed her, clean her cage and hold her”.** Ok, fine. No, I’m not going to mention that The Mother is concerned about the guinea pig and not-so-much about Lil’ Sis. Let’s leave that rant alone for now. Ok, so TheMan agrees. It’s just a little thing, how much of a mess could it make? Right? Holy shit balls, but that little thing sheds buckets full of hair every single day. I held her and turned into a giant furball myself. I even tried to brush her, but it was no help. This doesn’t bother me, but TheMan is seriously hair phobic. It’s unnatural, no lie. Lily-pig has been with us since last Friday and he has run the vacuum around her cage twice a day every single day. He will not touch her (though he will push lettuce through her cage bars) and he doesn’t want her out of her cage ever. He even declared that there was guinea pig hair in his lunch the other day. I
happilyhelpfully pointed out that his lunch was from a box and how the hell could her hair get in there? Add that to Baby’s attempts at getting the poor creature to squeak (terrible threes!) and that was it. Lily-pig must go back.Which means that The Mother’s feelings are hurt. Hmmph. Goddamned egg shells and shit.
Good news, though. TheMan has agreed to a small, short-haired dog. He declared “If we’re going to have an animal with that much hair we might as well have one I can have fun with.” Oh, he shouldn’t have said that because the hunt is on! I’m holding him to what he said, better believe that shit. It’s on now! I’d love to have a dog, a cat, and a guinea pig, but TheMan is hair-phobic, dude. That might seriously kill him.*** Now, Lil’ Miss and I have to decide what kind of dog we want. TheMan said he gets to decide, but he doesn’t realize that he gets no say. I just promise not to get a long-haired dog. Other than that. . . sucks to be him. Anyway, he’s too busy trying to decide how to tell Millie we’re getting a dog for in the house around the baby (toddler). I’m sure she’ll have lots to say, but I ain’t hearing any of it. She’ll try to break TheMan down again, but I’m pretty sure it won’t work this time. Hahaha! Suck it, beotch! I win, I win, I win! Oh…ahem…
On to other things. Lil’ Miss wants to get her tongue pierced for her sixteenth birthday. Of course, I laughed til I cried. Of course, she stomped and told me she hated me. And, of course, she wanted to compromise with a belly ring. Ha! When that didn’t work, well she pierced her own nose. Good grief! I didn’t say anything, though, because when I was 17 I did the same thing- and had it for 5 years. Yup, seems to me I have another me. No wonder she’s so hard-headed.:)
And that concludes this issue of News à la Jennyjinx. Keep your eyes peeled for your next issue- highlighting someone’s hilarity and/or earthworms.
* I know you’re not supposed to laugh at your spouse in public, but c’mon this was just too good.
** I love animals and have no problem with these requirements. TheMan, though, has issues.
*** There’s some serious stories behind all this, but I’m not getting into that right now. I’m not trying to be too serious right now.
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