5/11/10 – Tuesday

You guys are sending good thoughts in Jane‘s direction today, right? 1:30 Central time, whatever you’re doing, drop it, turn in the direction of Kansas, and think about her. If you were to bellow “I’M THINKING OF YOU, JANE!” at the same time, that could only be a good thing.

Then get your ass over to Twitter (if you have a Twitter account) and let’s make #janesjugs a trending topic for today. We can doooo eeeet!

 

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Life with Fred.

1. We were watching Survivor Thursday night, and Fred suddenly paused the show and turned to me, brow furrowed.

“You know what I don’t get?” he said seriously.

“What’s that?” I said, expecting him to come up with some sort of wisdom about the show.

“Picasso’s Cubist paintings.”

I started laughing.

“Seriously, one of his paintings just sold for $106 million. Some fucked-up naked, floppy-necked woman.”

I continued laughing.

“It’s so UGLY. Have you ever seen the stuff he painted before he went Cubist? He could really PAINT. But he wasn’t challenged by painting real paintings, so he started up with that ugly Cubist shit.”

2. We were driving into Huntsville, listening to Bob and Sheri on the radio.

“They’re about to come out with a double-K bra,” Sheri said.

Sheri and Bob talked about that for a few minutes, how it was amazing that there was enough of a demand for a KK-sized bra and how huge that must be. I wasn’t really paying attention until Fred burst out laughing.

“They’re talking about a double-K sized BRA!” he said.

“Yeah…?”

“I thought they were talking about a SANDWICH!”

“What….?” I started laughing.

“It sounds like some kind of Hawaiian burger from Burger King.”

As it turns out, he heard “bra” and thought they meant “bra” in the sense that Dog the Bounty Hunter (and surfers and snowboarders) use “bra”, to be synonymous with “bro”, and that it was some sort of Hawaiian sandwich from Burger King along the lines of KFC’s Double-Down.

3. In the grocery store, walking down the aisle, he stopped and grinned.

“What?” I said.

He pointed. “That would be an excellent name for a porn movie.”

Indeed.

4. Every time we watch Survivor, and it’s about time for a challenge, as they begin the scene by showing an aerial view of the challenge course, Fred calls out “Come on in, guys!” moments before Jeff Probst does the same.

Last night, Newt and Maxi were sitting out on the side stoop and Fred opened the door, waved one arm in the air and called “Come on in, guys!”, then acted like he didn’t know why I was laughing.

Okay, we’re dorks – but it’s never boring around here, I can tell you that.

 

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Life with me.

I’m messing around with my hormone replacement therapy again because I like to fiddle with shit and make life difficult for myself and those around me, for one, and because I packed on seven pounds in the course of about two weeks without changing my eating habits in the slightest, and that shit isn’t going to fly. I decided it was a possibility that my estrogen level was too high (sign of estrogen level too high: weight gain. Sign of estrogen level too low: weight gain. SIGH.), so last Monday I cut my estrogen patch in half.

As the week progressed, I got a tad, SHALL WE SAY, edgy.

Last night, Fred suggested we watch TV, so we headed toward that end of the house.

“Did I see the help wanted ads open on your monitor?” he asked.

“YES,” I snapped. “I’M APPLYING FOR JOBS, I SAID I WAS GOING TO APPLY FOR JOBS, DO YOU THINK I’M NOT APPLYING FOR JOBS?!”

“I was just ASKING,” he said, looking amused. “I saw an ad for a receptionist on your monitor, I didn’t know if you were applying for it or what.”

“Well, you can tell YOUR FATHER that I’ve sent out like twenty resumes, so next time he says ‘Is Robyn bothering to APPLY for jobs, or is she just sitting on her dead ass contributing NOTHING AT ALL, AS USUAL?’, you can TELL HIM I’ve been sending out resumes!”

Fred laughed. “You’re reading an awful lot into him asking if you were applying for jobs.”

“BECAUSE HE THINKS I CONTRIBUTE NOTHING.”

“He’s never said that -”

“HE DOESN’T HAVE TO!”

” – and even if that’s what he thinks, who gives a shit?”

“Shut up and go get me some Tylenol. I have a headache.”

 

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Bolitar, sleeping on top of one of the cat trees in the front room. How can this be comfortable?

Corbett: “What?”
Miz Poo: “He’s not TOUCHING ME, is he? Do I HAVE to put up with this?”

Corbett: ::Zzzzzzz…::
Miz Poo: ::Zzzzzzz…::

Jake and Bolitar in the Ham-Mick.

Stinkerbelle in the cat bed atop the book case, glaring at the idea that Rhyme (in the cat tree) is so close to her.

 

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Maxi, in her bed on Fred’s desk. When she’s in the house, 99% of the time she’s in her bed. (The other 1% of the time is divided between eating and growling/ hissing/ smacking any kittens who look in her general direction.)

 

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Previously
2009: Blessed are the pure in het, for they shall see Dog.
2008: No entry.
2007: Mister Boogers doesn’t have opposable thumbs and finds it too difficult to text anyone – he gives up and stomps off in a huff after texting a few LOLs.
2006: Which to ME means “I’m not interested,” but to the operator apparently was code for “I might be interested. Try harder!”
2005: Now, I don’t know. I think that if your life is SO BUSY that taking the time to put a little pill in your mouth throws your entire schedule off, then perhaps it’s time to reorganize your life.
2004: You can’t have genius every day, y’know.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: SHE WAS FIXIN’ TO GO DOWN THE HILL.
2000: Poor overworked, abused child…