Be Careful What You Wish For, Grinning Like the Cheshire Cat, and Take a Look Around

I swear I didn’t send yesterday’s list with Jerry to the Dr.’s office- the one with the line about scheduling a colonoscopy and prostate exam with Extreme Prejudice.  It was a tempting thought, but I restrained myself.  He still has to schedule the colonoscopy, but he got his prostate exam right there.  I had to assure Jerry that no, it’s not a full arm ordeal like what Mike Rowe had to do to cows on Dirty Jobs. It might feel like a full arm ordeal, but hey, it’s all about your health.  At least now we know that’s not where Jimmy Hoffa ended up.  Besides, look at what women are supposed to have done every year once they turn 21.  And guys whine because they have to have their nether parts inspected from time to time once they turn 50.  Get over it, boys.

I should try to find Jerry some of those full-arm veterinary gloves just in the name of humor.

I shouldn’t be grinning like the Cheshire Cat, but it’s sort of funny in a way.  Maybe that’s what the Cheshire Cat thought to be so funny- a sort of cosmic justification.  Now you see, grasshopper, a little bit of what the other side sees.

I can verify that the exam Jerry had yesterday involved probably only one finger if the illustration is correct.  Unless he was mistaken for a horse.  Then it’s back to the veterinary gloves.

I am glad that Monsoon season here in Central Ohio is at least giving way to warm temperatures with the rain.  It’s almost time for the dogwoods to bloom, and I look forward to that every year.

The rose bushes are actually getting leaves on them and hopefully they will be budding soon.  I gave them some of that rose food stuff last night.  Jerry was still hyper and all traumatized last night so I ended up doing various chores to shut him up.  I really hate that because I am dead tired in the evening, and the last thing I want to do is sweep up leaves and crap but he did clear out the front flower beds so I can get some annuals and some mulch to finish them off- when it stops raining for a few hours again.

So I will have to have a triple threat evening tonight- hair, face Nair, and nails.  Hopefully he will decide to leave me alone long enough to get these things done.  I would hate to have bushier eyebrows and a thicker beard than his.  I’ve done them all in the same night before.  It’s worth it not to overly frighten young children and dogs.  I would be afraid of some old geezer lady like myself too, especially when the facial hair and the Unibrow gets out of control.  Nasty.  Trust me on that one.

A good friend of mine once told me to be careful what I wish for.  I understand what he means by that- sometimes what we might think to be a blessing ends up being a curse.  Reality might not be what I wish for, but as Mick Jagger put it, “You can’t always get what you want/You can try sometimes/You just might find/You get what you need.”  Again, the pragmatic approach works here.  Take what you’re given and run with it and don’t spend a whole lot of time and energy lamenting the roads not traveled or the opportunities missed.  Sometimes what we thought we wanted wasn’t what we needed at all, and something we would have never wanted ends up being exactly what we needed. I’ll try to remember that little cosmic tidbit the next time Isabel decides to puke on the kitchen counter or some other completely inappropriate place.

Wish in one hand, shit in the other- which one fills up first?  And cat puke is universal.

I’m hoping for a quiet and peaceful weekend, and maybe a moment or two of solitude here and there.  I need some ivory tower time.  I’ve not gotten much of that lately and it shows.  Perhaps I will have more time to troll the National Archives website and look at pictures, if that doesn’t get shut down this weekend.  I just thought of that.  Then again, I will always find something to do in my solitude.  Drawing- I enjoy drawing, but hardly ever do it anymore, or cross-stitch, or perhaps revisiting one of the many books in my collection.  Who knows?  I enjoy the quiet and the autonomy more than anything.

Which One Doesn’t Belong?, Evil Ice, and Creative Timing

“Uh, the Doritos and Twinkies sort of taste like spermicidal lube!”

I guess one could think of condoms as “picnic supplies,” though that is a bit of a stretch.  It’s been almost 20 years since I’ve been lucky enough to indulge in a “nooner,” though I do understand some people see action more than once every other decade or so.    If I found it necessary to include condoms in my picnic planning, I would be more concerned as to how often the gas stations rotate stock. 

Speaking of which I am always sure to check the expiration dates on any edibles I get from gas stations.  I would have taken a pic of it if I’d had the camera on me, but I spotted some very old (and very overpriced) Tums in a Speedway station on New Year’s Eve.  I remember this because I’d stopped there to pick up some more Diet Rockstar on the way to the New Year’s Party and Jerry had wanted some Tums.  Under the thick film of dust I was able to spot an expiration date- 2-2001.  I can guarantee that if the Trojans in the Speedway date back to 2001 that they probably aren’t going to be terribly effective at preventing STDs or unplanned pregnancies. 

I wasn’t cruel enough to buy Jerry the expired Tums, but I did rotate them up front so the oldest stock would be the first one someone else grabs.  In most retail stores the freshest stuff is in the back as the old stock is supposed to be rotated up front so it’s sold first.  I admit it, I look at the dates and I try to find the freshest one possible even if it is clear in the back.  The only exception to this is sale meat, which they mark down because it’s almost expired.  I buy sale meat and freeze it or cook it right away so the date really doesn’t matter as long as it’s not expired or already turning green.

I know a lot of edibles are still edible far, far out from the expiration dates but there are some things I don’t take a chance on, and if I have to pay the same amount for something that expires tomorrow vs. something that expires next week, I want the one that expires next week.  I know, it ‘s a mind game, but it makes me feel as if I’m more savvy in getting the fresher one.

Central Ohio weather is usually sucky in one way or another but today and tomorrow we are being hit with freezing rain and ice storms.  I don’t mind snow so much but I hate the ice.  I almost fell on my ass several times just trying to get in my car this morning. It’s always precious to try to chisel half an inch of ice off of the car just to be able to drive it too. 

However, the ice storm made it a lot easier to get right in to Great Clips over lunch.  I got my hair cut and out the door in about ten minutes which was very nice.  I don’t like anyone fingering my hair but getting my hair cut is a necessary evil, especially as I like it kept short.  I was also able to go to Sally’s for face Nair so I don’t have to do those little tasks later. 

Hopefully I will go home and will be able to enjoy my pork and kraut in peace.  I’ve had a lovely pork roast slow cooking all day today.

I find the above illustration at the least, disturbing, and at the most, downright infuriating.  I understand that universities make a LOT of money off their sports programs (I live in Columbus after all.  Our only professional sports teams are hockey and soccer.  Since we don’t have an NFL team in Columbus- I have been told there are no good NFL teams in Ohio- I get to hear the OSU football hoo-hah constantly) but why do they continue to pretend that the “student athletes” are “students?”  Wouldn’t it just make more sense to give the scholarships to those who can make the most use of them (i.e. those with I.Q.s a little higher than that of paint) and just pay the best football players to play football for them? 

Let’s face it.  There are guys who can play football and there are guys who can understand nuclear physics, and do all kinds of important scientific research and so forth.  They are usually NOT the same guy. I know in rare instances jocks can have brains too, but intellectual prowess and sports prowess are almost always mutually exclusive.

I would be curious to know just how much intellect goes unrecognized in this world because the holders of said intellect weren’t able to afford to pay for the expensive pieces of paper to prove it.

I also wonder how many people have the expensive pieces of paper without the intellect and knowledge that should have to go behind them.  I know I have encountered many, especially within the world of education, which is especially ironic.

This particular thought train is starting to piss me off.

Perhaps the brainiacs aren’t as fun to watch as football (??) but I’ll have you know that people with above average I.Q.s tend to have below average physical coordination.  We fall a lot. 

But I’d still rather be a smart ass than a dumb ass, even if I could play football and go to school for free.

E.D. Soup, Face Nair, Pathos, and The Vacuum Cleaner Sucks

Maybe I’m the only one who sees the humor in this.  My thought is: Is the soup ostensibly a cure for E.D., or is it something designed to cause it?  Is there salt peter in it?  I know E.D. is no laughing matter- it can be rather pathetic, especially if you’re a woman consigned to involuntary celibacy because of it.  Of course, the poor guy at the Chinese joint (who is from China, and English is not his first language) probably had no idea “E.D.” is a common abbreviation for “erectile dysfunction.”  He used E.D. as an abbreviation for “egg drop.”

I love Chinese food and Chinese restaurants but I never really had much of a taste for egg drop soup- generally I prefer wonton or occasionally hot and sour.  This order of egg drop soup was for one of the guys I work with.  I am not going to ask him if his soup order affected his love life in any way.  That would be TMI.  There are some things I really don’t care to know.

Now I remember what I forgot to get at Sally’s- Face Nair.  I do have that handy $5 off coupon I got for renewing my card which will cover most of it.  I buy plenty of stuff at Sally’s- more than enough to justify having the discount card.  They are the only ones who have the fiberglass nail wraps and acrylic resin I use on my nails.  I hate the powdered crap (it doesn’t work) but the liquid acrylic resin with the spray hardener is the way to go.  It’s similar to the stuff used in auto body repair.  Go figure.

Just thinking about Jerry’s most disturbing inadequacy is depressing.  I can forgive the drunkenness, slovenliness (even right after his tirade of a few minutes ago, when he was bitching because I had not cleaned his mess up in a more timely manner, and the tirade that directly followed the “you need to clean up my mess- again- tirade,” when he bitched about how he didn’t like how I listed his crap on Craig’s List,) and his downright lack of anything resembling consideration or manners, but I find his unwillingness to address his E.D. the worst of all his flaws.  I know he was raised by wolves and that explains a lot of his ignorance and rudeness.  But one would think a normal man would actually care whether or not Willie works, and  I would presume a normal man with a limp willie would do something about it.  I am surprised his Dad hasn’t told him to soak it in kerosene (apparently this is an old time Appalachian hemorrhoid cure) but I doubt that he and his Dad have had a man-to-man about his malfunctioning member.

I’m learning to tune out the bitching.  I even have noise canceling headphones so that I can drown out the oat opera torture sessions.  I don’t have a reasonable substitute for a real man though, and that bothers me sometimes.  In fact, it bothers me a lot of the time.  So much so that it requires me to (vehemently at times) resist the temptation to reconnect with a certain old friend.  As much as I would love to rekindle communication with this particular old friend, I don’t trust myself.  There is too much potential there for me to cross boundaries it would be wrong for me to cross. Suffice to say if times and places and circumstances had been different-there could have been something wonderful there- but if my aunt had balls, she’d be my uncle.  Some things simply weren’t meant to be, and I am enough of a realist to know better than to ruminate on impossibilities.

Color me old-fashioned, but I am not the “friends with benefits” type.  I can’t say that I am a terribly emotional person, but even the rational side of me has a hard time making the disconnect between physical contact and emotional attachment.    I have a hard time with any sort of physical contact with people anyway- even men I find to be attractive.  I generally don’t like to be touched even in the most innocuous ways.  I even hate having my hair cut because I don’t like people touching my hair.  I do my own nails partially out of poverty and partially because it is weird for me to let people touch my hands.  Even if I had the emotional connection I would need to even want to get physical with a man,  I can’t live with the guilt and I’m not into those kind of games.

There are days I really want to knock Jerry on his ass but then I’m probably not the easiest person to live with either.  I try to be quiet and stay out of the way for the most part.  It’s safer that way.

I can’t help it.  This is funny.  I know there are those who will claim that humans can do just fine on a vegan diet.  Perhaps this is true, and more power to the vegans and vegetarians out there.  But I like meat.  I also find it ironic that vegans would keep cats (and many do) knowing that cats are obligatory carnivores.  Cats will die without meat products in their diets.

I can eat meat…but…never mind.  It’s not nice. I’m trying to keep my mind out of the gutter, and my heart from despair.

Maybe someone will get me something on my birthday list.  Even the 12 pack of Diet Dr. Pepper would be nice.  Or a new vacuum cleaner that actually sucks and that still has wheels on it.  The vacuum cleaner, the one thing that is supposed to suck- doesn’t suck very well unless I constantly empty the dirt box and unclog the dog hair from the intake.

The vacuum cleaner sucks more when it doesn’t suck.  What irony.

If beating my rugs would get the dog hair out of them, I’d try it.