Update From a Slacker

It's a dichotomy.  I've been so busy, yet so lazy.  I'm always doing something, but never feel like doing much of anything.  Even blogging.  And that's just not right.
Maybe it's the heat.
Maybe it's my rapidly advancing age.
More likely, I think I'm just overwhelmed.  New house.  Stressful work.  Major family loss.
I've said it before, but I really need a minion.  A cloned minion.  Only with really good hair.
Not that things are bad.  Life is good.  Really good.  The house is starting to come together.  Got the master bath painted a gorgeous shade of gray and I'm starting the decorating process.  First with some antique apple boxes.....

And people laughed when we bought the antique urinal.  Pssshh.

 Window treatment thoughts?

Roger, being the hero that he is (after reviving my mom's A/C unit single handedly), also hung a porch swing on the long, wrap-around porch yesterday. And he crawled up in the attic in 90 degree heat to do it.

Then he came in an made a roast for dinner.

No.  You CAN'T have him.  I'm hoping to sign him to a long-term contract one day.

Love you, babe!!

If you're looking for me tonight, my ass will be right here.
(Forgive the ladders and stuff.  They're not part of the permanent plan.)

That's about all I've got for now.  Hoping to get my funny back again soon.  Stick with me. K?

Swinginess, y'all,

Ach

Screw it. It's MY Blog.

In a normal world, today would be another episode of Conversations on Friday.  But you know what?  I don't feel like doing that.  Fuck it.  I'm just not in the mood (and despite getting to leave work early and the impending three day weekend, the mood I'm in is actually rather pissy, so there you have it and there you go).  


Instead of COF, today I'm going to wuss-out and give you a few more Actionary words.  I know, I know.  But life's not fair and you'll take what I give you.  And you'll like it.  


Besides, I sometimes think you all actually LIKE Doug and Sheila.  

Plentifowl

      [Plen-tee-fawl]

Noun

1.  The amount of fried chicken a person can consume at an all-you-can-eat chicken dinner.

It was only 5:30 pm, but Doug was already being physically escorted out of the restaurant and despite the managers claim that there was not enough plentifowl left for the others, Doug knew that four whole chickens was not all-he-could-eat.

Partayke

      [Par-tay-k]

Noun

1.  An out of control party (usually hosted by a teenager who's parents are out of town) where valuable things end up missing.

Doug's high school years were a blur, but his dad never stopped reminding him about the partayke he held his junior year when the police were called and a Ming vase containing their loyal pet octopus' ashes were stolen.

Dissoriented

      [Dis-or-ee-en-ted]

Verb

1.  The confusion felt when you know the Vietnamese women at the nail salon are talking shit about your feet, but you don't know what they're saying.

As dissoriented as she felt during the pedicure, Sheila still had the wherewithal to Google ROSETTA STONE-VIETNAMESE, if only for future reference. 

Memeorial Day

      [Meem-or-ee-al Day]

Noun

1.  The widespread dissemination of tear-jerking photos and other heart wrenching media in anticipation of a sentimental holiday.

Even as a veteran himself, Doug finally had to say enough is enough and unsubscribe to Sheila's incessant Memeorial Day posts of dogs laying on graves on Facebook.  

Here's hoping for sunshine and copious amounts of alcohol for your holiday weekend!
And I was just kidding about the Memorial Day stuff.  Please...hug a veteran.

Barbequeness, y'all,
Ach

It Appears That I'm More Creative When I'm Not Even Here!

You know, as often-times stressful as the A-Z Challenge was, it was a lot of fun and introduced me to a lot of new people.  As a matter of fact, I gained almost 40 followers as a result.  Huzzah!!  (Don't even think about unfollowing me after I've spent all that time and money on the background checks for all of you....)


One of them is Liwi.  Liwi writes a blog called Lifes Trifles.  When you're done here, please take a ride over to see her amazing and beautifully written blog.  She is an old soul in a young body.   I am a childish soul in an old body.  Can you spell jealous?


Anyhoo, Liwi has bestowed upon me the Kreativ Blogger Award (please hold your applause until the end.  Thanks).   I know!  I can hardly believe it, too!   Much like other awards, this one comes with strings.  I shall make my best attempt to honor the rules and regulations as set forth by the internet Gods.


Thanks, Liwi!!!!

I made it extra big so you'd see how important an award this really is....

1. Thank and link back to the person who presented you with the award.
   Done.  Although if you missed Liwi's link above, please check her out.  She has a gift.  No, no...she doesn't have an actual gift so don't go there saying "Jayne says you're giving shit away".  What she is is GIFTED.
2. Answer the ten questions below
   See below.  Duh.
3. Share ten random facts/thoughts about yourself
   This comes after the ten questions.  Hold your horses and see below the below.
4. Nominate seven worthy blogs for the Kreativ Blogger Award
   Oh...Who to pick?  Who to pick?  Guess you'll have to read on to find out. (Yeah, I know you can scroll on down past this stuff.  Play along, mmmkay?)

OK.  Here we go....
What is your favorite song?
If forced to choose just one, it would be Rock Me Sexy Jesus from Hamlet 2.
What is your favorite dessert?
Coconut cream pie.  End of answer.

What ticks you off?
Oh Lordy...such an open ended question.  First thing that comes to mind are the slow drivers in the left lane.  They tick me off so much that they are numbers 1-6 on my top ten pet peeves list.

When you're upset what do you do?

I wish I could say I stop eating, but I'm pretty sure I'd need to have a stomach eating bacterial infection before I lost my appetite.  When I'm upset, I generally want to talk/yell it out.  Much to Roger's chagrin, I'm afraid.

Which is/was your favorite pet?

I've had many pets over the years, but I'd say it's  my sweet Bassetard, Huck... followed closely by his nemesis, lil' Charli, of course.

Which do you prefer to wear, black or white?

Black.  It's slimming, plus, you don't have to worry about what color underwear you have on.  

What is your biggest fear?

My biggest fear is that they'll never choose one of my submissions for a new OPI nail polish.  They are the purest form of genius.

What is your attitude mostly?

I try my best to be an optimist, but life has jaded me into a quasi-pessimistic state of being.  Life's an asshole sometimes.
What is perfection?
Being in Roger's arms.  
What is your guilty pleasure?
Hmmmm....probably sitting down to watch TV.  I don't relax well.  Always something needing to be done....

Ten random things about me
1. At my daughter's graduation last Sunday, I accidentally put my dress on backwards...and didn't notice until the ceremony was almost over.
2. Mosquitos don't bite me. 
3. I'm deaf in my right ear.  
4. I'm a classically trained pianist.
5. My great-great-grandpa was killed in the Battle of Nashville in the Civil War.
6. I've met Jesse Jackson (but don't spread it around).
7. I've been on Air Force One.
8. I'm allergic to shellfish.
9. I don't like chocolate.  In any form.
10. Roger and I make the BEST cheesecakes you've EVER tasted.  Bar none. 

This is the hard part.  I must choose only seven? 

Well, I'm passing the award on to these deserving blogs (in no particular order, mind you):

1. Misty's Laws.   She's a lawyer and a hilarious blogger (among a million other wonderful things).  I feel SO inadequate, but I love her!

2. Mayor Gia.    Her Honor, the Mayor is a self-proclaimed neurotic with a knack for drawing and finding the humor in life.  You won't be sorry you found her.

3. Buttons are Not Currency  If you haven't met Nellie Vaughn, you haven't fully lived.  She is irreverent, bust-a-gut funny, and generally my kinda friend.  Your blog-reading experience will not be complete unless you seek her out.

4. Sugar & Spice & All Things Nice   This is Patricia's blog.  It can be summed up in one word.   BEAUTIFUL.   Please visit.  Often.

5. Lettuce Be Clear   Jenn has it all figured out.  Unless you consider the ballerina squirrels, her bathroom cleaning exploits, and the ever-so-adorable-yet-of-questionable-motives of Chunky Pug.  Serious hilarity.  Go.  Now.  No.  Not Now.  When you're done here.  

6. Facebooking From the Edge     You have to visit Killer Cupcake.  Her blog is can't-catch-my-breath hilarious and if you can't relate to her 'Fat Days' then you have no soul.  Killer Cupcakes are to die for.
7. Super Earthling  Join Susan and her other personalities on her hilarious tutorials on writing.  Some people should never be let near a drawing application.  Susan is NOT one of them.  Her illustrations make me giggle and pee at the same time.

So there you have it.  I'm now officially a Kreativ Blogger. 

I'm sorry.  Did you say something?

No, of course there won't be a charge to read my blog now.  There will, however, be a charge to close this blog page.....

Bwahahahahaha!

Thanks again, Liwi!!


Awardedness, y'all,
Ach

Back in the Saddle....

It's been a rough week.  Thanks to all of you who offered kind thoughts and support on the unexpected passing of my dad.  He was a great man who will not be forgotten. It's comforting to know that you all are there for me. Roger was my rock.  I couldn't have gotten through it without him.


On a happier note, Kid 2 graduated from high school on Sunday.  Yaaaaay!

With honors, no less! (She gets that from my side.)

Couldn't be prouder! And she was thrilled that Grandma made it, too.

Well all know that Grandpa was there, too, watching over her.

Also on a happier note, I have another Actionary word for you all (while my mind has been on auto-pilot, Roger's never seems to stop...):

Campbell Toe

      [Kam-bel-toe] 

Noun

1.  The after effect of dropping a can of soup on your foot.

Sheila was sure that she'd never get Doug to attempt to make dinner again after the unfortunate accident in the pantry and his swollen, painful-looking campbell toe.

No problem.  You're more than welcome.

Returnedness, y'all,
Ach

Hiatus

My dad passed away yesterday so I'll be hit and miss for awhile on here.

Ach

Yes, These are Now Achual Words...Well, They WILL Be.

 It's Tuesday, and I've been busier than a meth addict with OCD, but I didn't want you to think I'd forgotten you all, so I thought it only right to impart upon you a few new additions to the Achtionary today...

Plus I know you miss Doug and Sheila.  Or maybe not.

Regardless....Voila!

Mourning Wood

      [Mor-ning wud] 

Noun

1.  A dead tree.

Sheila rued the day she ever planted that sickly looking maple tree for Doug's birthday, because even though it died three months ago, he never let her forget about his mourning wood.

Farmasuitical

      [Far-mah-su-tih-kul] 

Noun

1.  A backyard drug crop produced by an otherwise well-respected business person.

The moment she heard that Doug inherited his uncle's White Castle franchise along with his secret farmasuitical business, Sheila began socking away all the bail money she could.

Ecclesiasstic

      [Ek-leez-ee-ass-tik] 

Noun

1.  A man of the cloth who is the embodiment of an asshat.

Doug knew that when Father Westmorelandtonshire groped him in the confessional that he was an ecclesiasstic of the highest order, yet he was oddly intrigued.

Necrofeastiality

      [Nek-ro-fees-tee-al-ih-tee] 

Noun

1. A piece of meat that's so good you want to screw it.

If Sheila hadn't acted quickly and stopped Doug from mounting the table, he would have been the first person at Bob's Surf and Turf to be kicked out for necrofeastiality. 

Imposturd

      [Im-pos-terd] 

Noun

1.  An impending shit that turns out to be a fart.

After his all-you-can-eat lunch at RaLadonell's Truck Stop and Beauty School, Doug could barely get to the bathroom fast enough, so he was thrilled when the shit he expected turned out to be an imposturd.  

Outness, y'all,

Ach

Conversations on Friday #6

Presenting another saga of the life and times of Roger and Jayne in their imaginary magazine home...(Not to be confused with their current dream home...)

In a desperate attempt to prove to Roger that it was centsless
for him to spend all his free time at a bar, Jayne took action.

Ever attuned to the obvious, Roger questioned, "Now where
was it that you wanted me to hang that picture?"

Much to her chagrin, Jayne knew that her special bedroom
would always be just a pipe dream.

After being told to go light on the baskets, Jayne was
rightfully confused by Roger's distaste for her design scheme.

Neither Jayne nor Roger dared touch them, remembering the old adage
'Let sleeping amoebas lie'.

Weekendness, y'all,

Ach

Anatomy of a Fuck Up. Or is it?

I'm sorry.

Sometimes I fuck up.

Sometimes we all fuck up. Part of being a human being, I suppose.

For me, the key is knowing when you've upped the fuck (whether it's just a gut feeling, or you've been told directly by the fucked party, or a proxy) and admitting (and apologizing for) whatever fuck you've upped.

About six weeks ago, I did a blog post about a particularly hellatious day I was having.  Multiple stars aligned the night before in such a way that I got dumped on by the shit gods.  And not the normal, solid shit, but explosive diarrhea.  You know.  Like after a 2:00 am Thai buffet.

Well, it just so happened that on that fateful day that the universe lost control of its bowels, that myriad other universes also discovered they had IBS.  On my head.

The perfect shit storm, if you will.

 Luckily, I have a blog.  And I use said blog to vent.  And rant.  And generally expound upon any and everything that comes to mind.  I mean, what good is a blog if not to take the place of thousands of dollars in therapy?  Right?

I needed a place to vent and I did so.  I will not apologize for that.  Well, as I was ranting, I guess I wasn't thinking and some things that I said came out the wrong way.  Keep in mind that I'm not saying that I said the wrong thing.  I just put it in a way that could be construed differently from the way I intended it.  I understand how it could have been taken that way.  I see that.  But I didn't realize it until it was brought to my attention by some of those who were hurt.

OK.  I'm going to stop being so vague and cut to the chase. Some of my friends thought that I was questioning their friendship when my intent was to vent about the frustration I feel about my ex-husband spouting off at every opportunity about the details of our marriage and its demise.  Whether or not all of these particular friends were unlucky enough to be at the receiving end of his drivel, I can't say.  I suppose that some were (because my ex told me one time that he told everyone about what was going on).  I'm sure some heard his shit through the grapevine.  Regardless, I know it's out there. I've dealt with a plethora of issues during my 25 year marriage of which no one was ever aware and I still refuse to talk about.  It's no one's fucking business. 

The problem is that my ex is also friends with the husbands of my friends, so he's still invited to events and occasions.  I get that he's still a part of their circle.  And I'm not asking them to choose between the two of us, but to understand why I cannot be there if he is.

Truth of the matter is that I don't want to CANNOT WILL NOT be in the same room at the same time as my ex-husband.*  I don't think that's odd or unusual.  As a matter of fact, I think it's pretty normal.  If I wanted to spend time in his company, I wouldn't have divorced him.  I think I've been pretty clear about this to my friends and family, too.  It hasn't been a secret.

*I make exceptions for those life-events involving my kids.  I have to do that.

 I've made difficult choices and avoided situations where we'd have to be together.  I thought my friends understood this.  I think most of them do.  I love my friends dearly, and I apologize for any unintentional hurt I caused, but I will allow NO ONE to make me feel guilty for wanting my life to be separate from his so that I can move on.

I have lucky enough to have found the love of my life in Roger. He's my best friend. We are both dealing with the ghosts of spouses past and helping each other through it day by day. I would like nothing more than to have my oldest and dearest friends join us in our new journey, but I can't afford to pay to bring all that previous baggage along, so I'm leaving it at the curb. 

I hope they understand.

Outness, y'all,

Ach

P.S.  Apologies for the, profanity, run on sentences and redundancies.  It was written with passion.

Can Ya Put That Shit Somewhere Else?

Still on a semi-hiatus, so today I'm sharing a few of the strange things we encountered in the last couple of weeks. The world never ceases to entertain and amaze...

Sitting in a little bar/restaurant where they hang up the artwork that kids do
while parents kill their livers....looked up and saw this.  Obviously from the
Sesame Street coloring book entitled 'B is for Bestiality'.
The dog does look pretty damned happy though.

Saw this at a flea market.  A lamp made entirely of popsicle sticks.  Don't know
whether to be impressed by the construction or appalled at the bad taste.
Nevermind.  I'm both.

Also from the flea market.  This is a men's hospital urinal from the 1940's.
  Yes.  We bought it.
Don't ask.

You gotta love the marketing of these reptilisex doorstops.  
I mean, you couldn't buy just one, knowing how close they are. Could you?  
Where else but the flea market?

In an antique shop....Is it just me or are dolls freaky even without 
being dressed in a nun's habit?  What child 
would want to play with a nun doll? 

No surprise that this was at the flea market. 
No idea what this trolly thing is but I'm oddly curious if it's
 naked because it's sad or sad because it's naked.
That doesn't make me weird, does it? 

Funkiness, y'all,
Ach