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Slivers and Snippets: April 2006

Friday, April 28, 2006

Conversations with my Bro, yo

Bro: Dad was talking to me about money and stocks and mutual funds and stuff.

Me: Why? You don't have any money.

Bro: I didn't understand a word he said.

Me: I very rarely understand him.*

Bro: I told him "look, I've got a punching bag, some meat, and a girlfriend. I don't need anything else."


Bro: He said "but you just said the same thing three times."


Bro: You know bitches.

Me: DAMN bitches, yo.

Bro: word

Me: I need to turn on a light, just got pitch black here. brb

Bro: Is the sky mad at you?

Me: It sure is mad at some bitch, yo.

Bro: word mufucka.

Me: They are finally doing the weather on the news, looks like tornados a comin'. Best tie down the trailer.

Me again: You said mufucka!!! LOL

Bro: You people from Texas and your white-trash living arrangements.

Me: Did you hear about the t-shirt Melinda got me?

Bro: When are you gonna get an old Chevy up on blocks like respectable folk?

Bro again: No.

Me: It has a picture of a tornado, then a heart, then a picture of a trailer.

Bro: That's funny.

Me: I know. She is worried that it will get me beat up, but I think it's funny.

Bro: It will only get you beat up by tornadoes and trailer trash.

Bro again: Nobody important.

Me: Good call on that.

Bro: And hearts.


(Looking at pictures of the dog sleeping...)

Bro: She looks coked out in this one.

Me: Which one?

Me again: That one?

Bro: This one

Me: Yeah, coked out for sure. I told her to leave our shit alone, bitch! But she don't listen.

Bro: You should buy her her own doggie coke. They sell them right next to the beggin' strips.

Me: Oh, cool, I'll totally get right on that.

Bro: Only thing is that they sniff so much anyway it's gone like right away.

Me: Dude, we have this giant sausage thing that we break pieces off of to treat her while we are training.

Me again: It's made for dogs, but DUDE, it smells JUST LIKE summer sausage. Kinda makes me not want to eat summer sausage anymore.

Bro: I want a giant sausage.

Bro: I mean a big piece of meat.

Bro: I mean... damn.

Me: You are so gay.**


*Dad, I was kidding. I totally get you, dude.

**I would so LOVE a gay brother! Finally, someone to dress me!

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

So Smart She's Dumb, or So Dumb She's Smart?

Proof of Dumbness:

1) Freaking terrified of the umbrella. Fun times when she has to pee during a storm.
2) Thinks the broom is something to attack and kill. Perhaps this is due to a lack of exposure to cleaning materials.
3) Not only chases her own tail, but once she has caught it she quite literally tries to pull it off her body. Seriously, I worry for her poor butt.
4) Finds no problem with chewing on her own feet and legs. Apparently feels no pain.
5) Cannot figure out why the fat cats won't play with her. Seems to think that hissing means "Yes! I want to play! Bounce up and down and bark at me more!"

Proof of Smartness:

1) Un-hooked herself from leash. Only the one time, but still.
2) Mostly lets Mommy sleep in. This is VERY smart of her. It's for everyone's safety. People I work with should send her thank you notes.
3) Learned incredibly quickly that the faster she pees at 5 am, the faster we can all go back to our warm beds. Sometimes we just barely make it off the porch.
4) Learned not to bark at the horrible dogs next door. Knows that I hate them, and therefore she ignores them with me. She would have made a great friend in high school.
5) Has figured out how to play-up her cuteness to an infinite degree anytime we are in PetSmart. Decided, rightly so, that grinning and sitting with her tongue hanging out would make people pet her.
6) Somehow managed to knock the babygate down without me hearing it, made it into the cat room, and devoured their leftover-from-breakfast diet food. All while they laid on the bed and stared at her with evil laser eyes.
7) Just sat up and told me that "dumbness" and "smartness" are stupid words, and possibly not even really words. It was hard to understand her, she mumbles.*

*Okay, so that last one didn't really happen. Obviously, she's only 11 weeks old, we're still working on "Speak."

**Yes, that is our Christmas tree behind her. Shut up, it's gone as of this morning.

Thursday, April 20, 2006

How awesome are the people in my life?

So, Monday was my birthday. I did not relish turning 28. This is the year that I have to start saying I'm in my "late" 20's instead of my "mid" 20's. Bummer. But, at least I'm not 30, like some people I'm married to (he never reads this, that'll teach him).

Regardless of my disdain for the age of 28, I partied it up (Valdnic style!). Started off finally getting to open the box of gifts from my parents that had arrived on Friday, and had been sitting on the table mocking my curiosity for three days. An awesome array of gifts - new clothes and a giftcard to buy the fishtank I've been lusting after! (Which, btw, I have since purchased and set-up, yet have not put any gravel, decorations, or fish in.)

Then I played with the Amazing Sammie.

Then, my wonderful friends came and picked me up and took me to a surprise lunch at a friends taqueria (AWESOME FOOD!). Almost everyone I love was there - my whole friend family! So cool. And they got me amazing gifts - including a super-cute cooler, a scented oil burner that they knew I wanted, racy panties from the Dollar Store* (who doesn't need that), Friends Season 6, and, of course, beer. Ah, how well they know me... Tacos, beer, and presents. Doesn't get much better than that.

Oh, except it does get better, because my insightful friends not only thought of me, they also thought of the new puppy, and got her a cute squeaky frog** that she LOVES. And I love watching her fling the frog around her head until she wears herself out.***

After I got home and played with the puppy some more, Mark came home with the best gift ever - a gift card to Halfprice Books. That's a whole DAY of fun, my friends. And several days after - I can spend this whole summer reading! Hurray for no school in the summer! I should buy a t-shirt like

Then we took the puppy to the vet. This was sort of a down point in the day. Fun, of course, as I was with Mark and Sammie, but sad because Sammie has worms.**** And also LONG - nobody needs to spend two hours at the vets watching people put sticks up the puppies butt, on any day, but especially not on birthdays!

But things looked up afterwards. Mark took me out for sushi, which he used to not like, but now all the sudden he loves it! Yay! And after, I got ice cream at Marble Slab! Yay!

*These panties came with explicit directions from Fletcher to PLEASE GOD WASH THEM before wearing. I like that she thinks they'll fit me.

**Because who collects frogs? Me.

***Love the toy guys, but next time, maybe no squeak, huh?

****She's MUCH better now. SO BIG.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Why I haven't posted in a little while...

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Notes on Crazy Eddie and the Anorexic Cats

This has been a slow week... you know, humor wise. Only funny thing that has happened so far was when my boss called here while I was napping. I awoke to hear his voice throughout the house and thought he was in my living room. I, of course, was napping in my underwear. So picture me, if you will (please take a few pounds off in your imagination) sitting in bed, clutching the sheet to myself, yelling at him, "What are you doing here!?!?!" For several seconds. Before my stupid sleepy head realized that his voice was coming from the answering machine. Honestly, I didn't realize it until I heard him say something about calling him later. {sigh} I think sleeping makes me dumb.

I'm off to train the cats on how to jump over a baby gate. (We have to put one up so the new puppy won't go into their food/poop room.) You might think, "Silly JayAre, cats know to jump over things like that." You would clearly be a person who has never met Ethel. And the fact is, even once she figures it out, I* may have to lift her over anyway. Although, the diet food is working. In so much as they don't eat it, because it is gross.** So now, instead of being binge eaters, they are anorexic. Nobody's ever happy!

*And by "I", I mean, "the crane I hire."

**Momo - it smells even grosser***, than that tuna & egg food.

***Shut up, I don't care if that's a word, it's my blog.

Monday, April 10, 2006

Chelsie got a new dog! And also, this post includes the best thing that has happened to me since Mark proposed!

So, my very good friend Chelsie got a Great Dane. I LOVE GREAT DANES. We had two while I was growing up, and quite frankly, any other dog just seems wussy in comparison. Except maybe Dobermans, but that is only because our second dog was 1/2 Great Dane, 1/2 Doberman. Man, that was a pretty dog. Here is Chelsie's dog, Winston:

Sorry about the crappiness of that picture, but I took it on my phone. And my phone is CRAP; that is why it is named Andy. (I always am making jokes just for Chrissy, I don't get it!) But, that is one of the cutest dogs EVER, you will just have to take my word for it. Well, actually, considering I have a reader-ship of TWO (excluding my parents) and you both know Chelsie, you can probably just go meet Winston yourselves.

Anyway, here's the good news... We are getting a Great Dane puppy too!!!! Chelsie found one that is perfect for us when she went to pick hers up, and, god willing and the creek don't rise*, we will be going to pick her up on Saturday! Good timing for Mark, as my birthday is Monday and now he won't have to get me anything. Ours will be a Harlequin Great Dane, and we will go get her this weekend. SO EXCITED! I can't believe Mark said okay to getting this puppy. I thought FOR SURE he would say no. I can hardly believe it, surely something will go wrong and we won't get her. It's too good to be true, you know?

*I love me some southern phrases. Just wait till I use "rode hard and put up wet."

The End of the Inspection Ticket Story; or, Why I Am Currently Crying

As most of you know, my brake light did magically start working again, so I did manage to get my (Mark's) car to pass the inspection finally.

Today I went to pay my ticket. I took my proof of inspection completion,* and walked tall with the knowledge that they would SURELY dismiss the ticket. I possibly shouldn't have worn my "your mom" shirt.**

Well, it turns out, Benbrook sucks my big ass. So fuck them, I'm glad I wore my "your mom" shirt.

First of all, I stubbed three of my toes on the Municipal Center's giant wooden doors. They look like something out of a 1970's horror movie, and as if that weren't frightening enough, they took hold of my toes and tore a nail and caused severe limping for several minutes.*** When I told the horrible, mean man at the counter that I hurt my poor toes on his ugly, stupid door, he showed NO sympathy. I think I should have gotten a discount, especially since...

IT COST $103.

Freaking Benbrook.

*I totally just made up this term. But it seems right.

**Thanks be to Tiffany, for the best present ever, and for no other reason than she knows every conversation with me contains at least 5 instances of "YOUR MOM". Yes, I am a 12 year old boy. But shut up, it's funny. YOUR MOM is a 12 year old boy! Ha! Burn!

***Mark will tell you that I stub my toes everyday. This is sadly true. I seem to have very little control over my toes. In fact, my toes have been known to stub MARK'S toes. It's a fact - I can cause toe injury not only to myself, but those around me as well. Beware.

Sunday, April 09, 2006

Can you tell I'm bored?

Mark went to work for a couple of hours today so I am amusing myself with computer play. And by watching the cats watch the fly that keeps buzzing around 'cause my genius ass left the window open. They aren't trying to catch it, no, why would they attempt to earn their keep in any way, the lazy brats, but they do stare at it through half-closed eyes.

And I will now share this funny picture I took of Mark and Lucy last night.

And this picture of Bubbas, because he is clearly upset that I have not put any pictures of him on the world-wide-web yet.

I will now return to my recipe browsing on www.foodtv.com. And if anybody has any good recipes for a healthy, energy inducing pasta that I could make for Mark tomorrow, please let me know.

"I have a mouthful of cellulite."

Thank you for sending me this link, Chrissy. Funniest thing EVER.


In the afterglow of the controversy*, I ask the tough questions

"I NEED TO KNOW. Tell me the truth. Do you like my hair longer or shorter?"

"I like it all the ways! Your hair, it's like the moon. I like all it's cycles. First it's short, then it grows long, then it's short again... I like all the lunar... No, FOLLICLE cycles."

*For those of you not obsessed with K's blog like I am, said controversy can be found here.

We Were Eating Hot Dogs At Costco. That's How We Roll.

"So, we could build a device similar to the thing that holds someone's harmonica up, and it would hold your hamburger, and then you could eat and sign at the same time and you would never have to stop talking."

"Brilliant. Let's do it."

"Hmmmm... It would have to have some sort of blow-by..."

"A what?"

"A blow-by."

"Is that some kind of fancy engineering term?"

"No, it's an automotive term."

"Like a MECHANICAL engineering term?"

"No. Look, it means blah blah blah blah blah..."

"Do I need to start making biology jokes?"

"No. But seriously, what was that kind of mold you were talking about?"

"DUDE. It was a joke. There is no characterized mold. Let it go."

Saturday, April 08, 2006

Chocolate Cake With Raspberry Sauce. And A Little Wild Game Demi-Glace.

"I'd like to buy a bottle of this {cheap} champagne for that table over there."

"Great. I'll take it over to them."

"Make sure it's cold. And put it in a bucket with ice."

Really? REALLY?!?! Champagne in a champagne bucket WITH ICE? Now that is just crazy talk. I would never have thought to do such a thing on my own, thank god I have guests like you to teach me the ways of my job.

"Will you box up my leftover chocolate cake?"

"Yes sir. I'll take it to the back and do that."

"Wait! Don't put it in the same box as my sausage and venison! Put it in a separate, smaller box."

Really? REALLY!?!?! REALLLLLLLLLLLLYYYYYYYYY!?!?!? My god. You mean to tell me that people don't want their chocolate cake in the same box with their meat? You mean to say that when I put dessert in a box with entrees, and then shake it up real good so that the demi-glace gets all over everything, and make sure the dessert is shoved down good and firm in the jalapeno mashed potatoes, that people don't like that? Man. I must suck at my job. What would I do without you?

No, please, no need for a tip. I've just enjoyed learning so much from you.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

My husband is smarter than me in EVERYTHING. Except biology. That is why this is funny. Chrissy will laugh.

"He said you should come home more!"

"Yeah, but he's a bit of a character. You said it."

"He is a bit of a character. But I like that guy."

"He does grow on you."

"Like characterized mold."


"You know, 'he grows on you like mold,' only we said he was a character, so I said characterized..."

"Is that some kind of biology joke?" {insert sneer here}

Then there's me laughing hysterically.

"Can I please put this conversation on my blog?"

Then there's Mark sighing heavily (oh! the drama!) and hugging me wth his gross-sweaty-basketball-playing-self.

Today While I Mopped, She Risked Her Life

I had to take all the chairs out of the kitchen to mop (yes mom, I do that occasionally). It seemed smart at the time to just pile them, until I remember how dumb my cats act.*

*Maybe I'm the dumb one. 30 minutes later and she's still asleep up there, so I guess she knows more about gravity than me.


Amendment: I was just trying to put all the stuff back in the kitchen, as the beautiful floor is now dry. And I realized that the reason she can lay up there is that the chair leg is resting on the trash can (you can kinda see it in the above picture). And, in a stunning testament to how spoiled my cats are, I decided to leave everything alone so she can finish her nap. Seriously, I need help.

Monday, April 03, 2006

I'm JR, That's How I Roll

(Most of you know this story, due to my inability to stop talking. Feel free to skip this post.)

So, my car's (read: my husband's car that he so kindly lets me drive) inspection sticker has been expired since December. Government agencies and environmental zealots tell me that this will make the world come to a horrible and bloody end. I like to live on the edge.

The truth is, I have tried to get the damn thing inspected. I have taken it twice, and I think Mark took it once, too. Our problem is a moody, clearly PMSing, brake light. It comes on when it feels like it, and naps whenever it gets tired. Obviously, these naps always fall during the hour it is being inspected. Never will the brake light JUST FREAKING WORK when I take it to the inspection place (which I lovingly refer to as Valvoline - seriously, they're so nice to me, and they think I'm cool for having a TransAm, which means they are all teenage boys, but whatever).

So I got pulled over on Friday, on my way to work. I saw the cop look at my sticker, I saw the cop turn around, I sat at a light with the cop behind me and watched him call in my plates... and then I drove for a little while because the genius decided to wait to turn on his lights until we hit a construction zone, where there was no place to pull over. I should have pre-empted him, and pulled my own self over, but like I said, I like to live on the edge. You never know, the urge to make a break might have overtaken me. I am from LA, the land of the police chases, after all.

Now, I have to say, this was one NICE cop. Seriously. I tend to get alot of tickets for expired things like inspections and registrations, so I've dealt with several of these guys. Most are okay, one (a bicycle cop downtown - yes, I was pulled over by a cop ON A BIKE) was a jerk. But this guy on Friday, he was cool.

"Miss, do you know why I pulled you over?" (Why do they always ask this? If I say, 'Because of the body in the trunk?', isn't that entrapment?)

"Because my inspection is expired."

"Right. Why is that?"

So, I tell him the whole thing. About the pissy brake light, and about how Mark HAS taken it to try and get it fixed, and NO ONE can find anything wrong with the brake light. It's just moody. And then I realize that this story is ridiculous. And I tell him that.

"Actually, miss, it's just ridiculous enough. I believe you. Let me go look at your brakes."

{Cop walks to back of car. Cop walks back to window.}

"I can't tell, you left your turn signal on."

{JR's face turns beet red. JR turns off turn signal. Cop returns to rear of vehicle.}

"Well, it's working right now."

"I would so take it right now, but I have to go to work!"

"I understand. Let me see your license and insurance and we'll get you out of here."

It is at this point that I have to confess to the nice cop that I don't have my new insurance card. It was somehow lost in the vast mailroom-wasteland that is our living room. BUT, I do have the claims receipt from my accident in February, surely that must prove something...

In the end, I got out of there with just the ticket for the inspection, and only 15 minutes late for work. I don't know why he let me slide on the insurance, but I seriously considered hugging the dude. And, it instigated a cleaning of the living room, which resulted in us locating not only our insurance cards, but also all of our tax forms. Awesome.

The top of our coffee table opens up, and it was full of mail before. Now it is mostly empty, which is great because I can put more stuff in there, like empty beer bottles. And cats.