Sunday, March 15, 2009

it's just one of those days...

that a girl goes through! yeahhh bringin back the 90s music. no but really. it was one of those days...

i woke up on friday feeling annoyed. just in a terrible mood. and of course Chanel was hungry so she paced around my bed until i got up to feed her. and she got all tangled in my feet (plus balance in the morning isn't quiiiite up to par) so i tripped over her royal fatness and fell. then screamed at her. all this commotion woke Cleopatra up, and while i was gathering my bearings again, the little shit jumped off the bed and just peed. right on the carpet. and with no shame. and i could hear it. the pee hitting the carpet. ARRGHHHHH so i threw her outside, fed Chanel, and went back to bed. i just wasn't ready for the world yet. my pets already destroyed my morning.

after regis and kelly i finally decided to try and get up again. truthfully i felt a bit rejuvenated and felt pretty good. kelly clarkston was the guest and she got as fat as a whale, and i'm still skinny. so i looked both ways (no Chanel in sight this thime) and popped out of bed. i wiggled into some "exercise clothes" and texted JJ: "where is a good place to walk a dog?" and he told me to go up this hill by our house, which led me to a housing development. so i texted him again: "you want me to walk the dog in a housing development that we don't live in? you are SO STUPID nevermind i should have googled it." and then i just screamed in agitation because when i was trying to type in "googled," my phone kept saying "foogled." which for some reason realllly set me off that morning.

so i turned my car around and we drove to a trail. we got out and started walking. "this is nice" i thought to myself, then Cleo stops, sniffs and garbles up a piece of white goose poop. dammmmmmmittttttt CLEOOOOOO!!!!!

we had a pleasant little jaunt about Spokane, then went home for a nap. when we woke up i had to go to work for a couple of hours. then the kids ditched me to hang out with their neighbor and his babysitter.

i decided to call my mom and complain about the economy and my lack of a stable career, then i needed a drink. so i called Rah (MNO!) and we went to a dirty bird bar and got a $7 pitcher of beer and complained about our lives for about an hour. ("well all i ever wanted was a backyard...then i'll be happy." gulp. "well all that i ever wanted was a career." gulp. sigh. gulp.) then we went to the hockey game. and JUST OUR LUCK it was Buck Night (as in hotdogs, popcorn and pop are all $1 a piece!!!) so we wait in the beer line (no Buck Night on Beer damn) and it's about 3 miles long. after we wait the 15 minutes to get to the front, the beermaid with 1 tooth (not an exaggeration) said, "it's all foam. sorry. try the next stand."

i couldn't even help but scream "I. HATE. SPOKANE." into Rah's ear. so about 3 hours later we finally get beer but OF COURSE THEY ARE OUT OF BUCK POPCORN at the stand. so we go to the next stand. the girl was chattering to her friend but i cut in and said, "yes, 2 Buck Popcorns and a peanut m&m please." she hands me the popcorn as i hand her hello kitty, and just as i am about to touch my tongue to that buttery salty goodness, she said, "oh sorry, we don't take anything but cash." i slowly slid my tongue back into my mouth, set the almost-damaged popcorn back onto the counter and made my eyes slanty at the girl. then i sighed and we went to our seats. by this time the second period is halfway over. BUT what do i find under my seat?! a glorious set of unopened, unused cheerstix! (you know, the long things you inflate and bang together?) so obviously Rah and i opened them and shared them and banged them on the glass and were having a jolly good time.

then 2 men (one tall and skinny, the other short and leprechaun-y) came and sat next to us. one says to the other, "where are my cheerstix?" i nudge Rah and we quietly set "our" cheerstix on the ground. then they look at us. but of course we pretend like we have no idea what they're talking about. we just look straight forward at the players' butts. then the Leprechaun gets all huffy and whispers something (probably mean) to Tall Skinny. then they storm off. MEN. such babies.

then back to the dirty bird bar for one nightcap. a fat married man asks me to buy him a drink. i mean, do i look like the kind of person who buys a fat married man a drink? no. idiot.

from start to finish it was just one of those days. like, just when i think things might be perking up, something else crap happens. so i said to myself before bed, "goodbye crap day. tomorrow is new." then i woke up with diarrhea.

5 comments:

  1. this entire post should be on fmylife.com

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  2. oh and i got a parasite without leaving my neighborhood, gained back 5 of the 7lbs i'd lost 5 days before (law) prom, and got hit on buy a guy who, no joke, looked me straight in the eye and said, "you have amazing calves." ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! FML as well.

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  3. Actually he looked at your boobs and said "nice calves" hahahaha.

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  4. So my morning today caused me to think of you, which in turn caused me to read your blog, which led to me finding this post, which as it turns out goes well with my morning.

    Anyway, I decided to drink last night, because I was asked if I wanted to. Rather than be content with just drinking a couple beers I decided to catch up with everyone by taking some shots. No problem really. The FP had a lame, mostly dude, party, but I wasn’t there very long. Overall I had an ok night, but I slept horribly. I should have recognized my terrible night of sleep as a harbinger for my morning, but I did not. Instead I was blindsided. I returned to my home at 7:30 am. I am due to work at 8 am. I go to the bathroom and I sit down on the toilet. I brought my personal roll of TP to the bathroom, because there is never any TP in the bathroom and no one is willing to get TP for the whole house. Instead people find their own ways to get things done. Most people keep personal rolls, Mr. Bren, and very likely PTR, like to use magazine pages. And not matte more paper-ish magazine pages, but the shiny pages. Overall a terrible excuse for tp. I personally steal my TP, roll by roll, from the fe's house. On with the story... This morning I sit down and what do I see? One of my dirty shirts that I have left on a shelf in the bathroom, on the floor, obviously used as someone else's makeshift tp. Complete with brown stains and everything. I was disgusted. This actually gives a significant amount more credence to my theory of how my favorite shirt disappeared from the bathroom.

    More with my morning… I somehow get on with my preparation for work in spite of the fact that I am angry and disgusted that a guest in your house would do something like this. And I get in the shower and proceed with my normal routine. I get ready and am miraculously out the door in time to make it to work on time. As I get to the light at Sharp and Hamilton I feel my face and realize that I forgot to shave. This is something that is UNACCEPTABLE at my work. This is something that bothers me daily to an extreme degree. No one loves facial stubble more than me. At least no one I know about. I look forward for the weekends, in part, because it means that I get to grow some facial hair. On occasion I will shave on Thursday night rather than Friday morning to get the extra 10 hours of weekend growth. I keep a disposable razor in the Heartbeat, because I regularly miss spots since I shave mirror-less in the shower each day. Shaving in the shower consolidates my tasks because I can let the conditioner do its work on my hair well I shave. If you see where this is going, you’re probably saying to yourself right now, “NO RYAN! DON”T DO IT, DON’T SHAVE YOUR FACE DRY IN THE CAR WITH A DISPOSABLE RAZOR!”. Well, I wish someone would have been there with me and told me that. My experience with the disposable razor is quite limited. I use it to catch missed spots, never to go for a full shave. I went for it this morning. I got about 1/5 of the way through, mind you this wasn’t even where very much hair is, this was the sparsely populated with hair part, and realized that this was a task that could not be done. My face was in some significant pain by this point. I welcomed the green light and began driving again. At the next light I started to shave again, I don’t know why, but again I realized that there was no way that it was worth it.

    I arrived at work and I took the elevator to the fifth floor. This is worth mentioning, because I never take the elevator to the office. I always take the stairs, except when I have too much in my hands, or am riding down at the end of the day with everyone else. I make a point of taking the stairs. I believe that over my lifetime this will prove invaluable to my health. Not this morning though. On this morning I take the elevator. I walk into the office and set my lunch on my desk and immediately go to the bathroom to finish the shaving before anyone notices that I am partially shaved. I go into the fifth floor men’s bathroom and I’m about to start shaving when I notice the shoes of the person in the stall are, unmistakably, my bosses. No one else I know wears tasseled loafers. I decided that it will be best if I go to the fourth floor bathroom. There are very few males on that floor and none of them know me. I felt that being as discrete as possible with the task would be a good idea. I got to shaving with warm water and hand soap and I cut myself about as badly as one can cut themselves with a razor, accidently of course. When the task is done I wash my face and splash it with cold water in an attempt to minimize the razor burn I know that I am guaranteed. I put my shirt back on and I feel my collar touch my face. Instantly I recognize what has happened. I pull my collar back to reveal what I already know. My blood is all over the collar of my shirt. I begin to get all hot and sweaty. Like you get when you’ve fucked up and you feel an impending embarrassment. I begin to frantically use paper wet paper towels to remove the blood. Surprisingly, I remove the blood to the point that it is actually unnoticeable. I somehow got myself put together well enough to return to my desk, where Austin and John promptly, and separately, point out that it looks like I cut myself shaving this morning. Thanks.

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  5. Two things: josh wears tasseled loafers, and Tide To Go is the answer.

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