calling a horny chick for cable installation

I never realized getting cable could be such a daunting task.

We don’t have it (probably the only people in America that don’t) so I call, three days before the start of Texas Longhorn football to see what I can do. Of course the package I saw online was not a package that would work for me. I also apparently needed to upgrade twenty more dollars of crap. So in frustration I hung up, against the guys will since he’s commission, but I knew in order to save my marriage I needed to talk to husband.

Husband let me know he needed every football channel available and hunting channels. And that we needed to cover all three TVs instead of just two for free.

So with this information I called back and got a new guy and attempted to talk to him during what sounded like Times Square on New Year’s Eve happening in his background. After spelling my last name four times and correcting his pronunciation of it three times I started over explaining what we needed. Of course the only option that offers all of that is the most expensive package. Or for three dollars extra a month I could add the hunting channels to the package I wanted.

With all of these new options I decided once again I needed to call husband because I couldn’t determine if we needed ten hunting channels. It was all too much pressure. On the phone with him I decided he would have to call. That way if he locked us into a two year contract and we got something we didn’t want I wasn’t to blame!

So I text him the number and wished him luck.

I apparently text him the wrong number because he text me back letting me know he had called a porn line and a lady came on to ask if he was horny. Oops.

When he hung up they text him so I’m pretty sure his number is forever ingrained in the porno annoy you line.

After giving him the correct number he called back only to hear different prices than I did.

Now he has a horny stranger texting him. And still no cable.

ignorance is bliss

Husband finally took the chupacabra to the vet Friday. I was supposed to take her, but of course something came up I had to do at the exact time I was supposed to take her. And the next option for an appointment time was late afternoon and the vet is downtown Austin. On a Friday. No thank you traffic.

So he went. With specific instructions on what she needed, didn’t need and questions I had.

She came home sick, with an extra injection and several medical problems. Husband might be fired from vet trips. Which I’m sure is fine by him.

She wound up with some bonus shot (that cost us) for in the event she’s exposed to wildlife. Um she’s basically a cat that stays inside and we live in a subdivision. Glad she got that shot.

She also has the worst stage of periodontal disease and receding gum lines. How exciting I’m a terrible dog owner apparently. They also sent an illustration to show me just how bad it is. Thank you for that.

They quoted us a 561$ teeth cleaning, but before she needs to have 100$ of blood work since she’s geriatric to make sure it’s ok to put her to sleep. Awesome.

Then the best part. She has a heart murmur. This could be indicative of impending heart failure or bacteria from her nasty mouth messing up her organs. He gave husband a card to refer us to a dog cardiologist for an echo. I didn’t even realize this was an option for dogs!

So now I’m sad.

Also, she’s not going blind. The actual reason I wanted her to go to the vet in the first place.

grilled cheese jerk

So I gained 3 pounds. How I don’t know. I dropped a considerable amount in January, started eating like a pig and didn’t gain so I thought my metabolism was just rewarding me. Then last week 3 pounds silently snuck on. And I tried to ignore their existence, but when I asked husband he told me he saw it.

Yes he’s still alive.

I decided to go no carb again until I could lose those 3 plus some. Which works, but only leaves you eating meat and veggies and that starts to suck after like 10 minutes.

So today I went to the cafeteria at work to get my grilled chicken and lettuce portion of my lunch salad and while I’m standing in line some rowdy residents in front of me loudly start discussing their lunch choices.

I attempted not to listen which quickly proved impossible because they had to shout to the person 3 inches away. Then the guy resident did it. He commented on wanting a grilled cheese.

Grilled cheese!? I haven’t had you since I was a child and I hadn’t even thought about you since then, but now that the loud almost doctor in front of me said he was getting you I want you. But I can’t. Stupid carbs.

So then my restricted diet and recent annoyance caused me to want to punch him. Why couldn’t he quietly order his grilled cheese without alerting the whole cafeteria?

I powered through and got my grilled chicken and lettuce, but not without struggle. Now I’m left with a craving that will not soon be satisfied.

Thanks almost doctor. I hope that sandwich adds 3 pounds. 

organ frying heat

The high today is 109.

I’m not even sure if it’s safe to be outside in this heat? Because I’m pretty sure when I go outside I feel like my insides are instantly withering away and I’m not ok with losing a lung.

I think I need to visit my doctor and get a note for work stating that I cannot continue to leave my house under these conditions.

After all, my organs are at risk.

And if I could swing working from home I’d only need one shower a day (unlike the 3 or 4 I need now to survive the day). Heck I could crank the AC down and go days without a shower. Then I’d be doing my part to help the water conservation for our drought.

I see this as a win for everyone involved.

I’ll think of it as giving back.  

bowel movement kind of day?

Today is a not so great Thursday. It's not the Thursday that is the predecessor to my 4 day weekend. That was last Thursday. And next Thursday. But not this one, which is what matters.

I need a Bloody Mary. The amazing ten dollar kind I had in Las Vegas.

I’m assuming though if I suggest going to Las Vegas for a Bloody Mary the husband will say we don’t have the money to go to Las Vegas right now, especially for a Bloody Mary. Which makes this Thursday that much worse.

I will however settle for a Bloody Mary from the Mexican place by our house after work.

So I text the husband.

“I need a BM”

His response: “Bowel Movement?”

Obviously he’s unaware of my made up abbreviation for my favorite alcoholic beverage. Which I’m pretty certain is a problem.

Maybe at Happy Hour I’ll make a cheat sheet for him. On a napkin. While he (hopefully) stuffs himself full of chips and salsa so I don’t have to cook.

The day is looking up!

the clothing drought

Yesterday I was off work so I thought I would make my husband feel sorry for me clean the closet out and get rid of those emergency clothes that I’ll never actually wear. My side of the closet (made for people with copious amounts of clothing) is already bare to begin with. I went through and pulled out all of the things that are too big. Because I will obviously never let myself get back to that size and if I do the reward for that painful moment will be a new wardrobe. Then I pulled out things I’ll never wear again. While pulling those items I wondered what possessed me to even purchase them in the first place. Apparently my vision was sick those days.

So I had a pile on the ironing board that ended up on the floor and I stood sadly looking at the bare closet.

Then it hit me.

I grabbed the phone, snapped a picture and sent it to husband so he could grieve with me. This wasn’t right. Women should not experience this pain.

Then he said magic words.

 
You can go shopping.

I love husband.

So I went. For hours. And found like three things. How is it that when you have no money and are just casually walking around burning excess calories you find everything you realize you’ve always needed? But throw some ready to be spent cash in and there is a drought in the shopping world.

Needless to say I’m excited about my three things and wore one to work today. Someone even asked if it was new. “Oh this old thing? Naw I’ve had it…”

I described this amazing sale I found to the husband yesterday. He suggested we go tonight and look for some pants for him. I imagine it going something like this “What size pants are you looking for husband? I’ll just be over here in the woman’s section making sure they weren’t accidently misplaced” in my attempt to score more clothes.

He also suggested we go to dinner afterwards.

Potential new clothes (again) and Chinese buffet?

Best. Husband. Ever.

fishing for turtles

This weekend we went fishing.

Fishing has always been one of my favorite pastimes. That is if I am catching fish, if not then I’m hot and ready to go.

We went with our awesome neighbors and of course as soon as we got out there everyone kept catching fish. Everyone except me.

So I made my way around the tank thinking of course the fish were hiding in whatever spot I wasn’t in. I cast my reel and impatiently waited.

Then it happened.

I caught a turtle.

I’ve always wanted a turtle but I never thought this would be the way I’d get one! I saw “Fred” (I named him for our 10 minute relationship) in the water interested in my worm. I laughed thinking of course no turtle is dumb enough to take the bait. Apparently Fred is. He bit down, I felt the tug and didn’t know what to do. This isn’t a fish you can reel in because Fred wasn’t meant to be caught. So I slowly pulled him in, picked him up and waited for husband to come save the day.

Husband came with pliers to get the hook out of Fred’s mouth. Apparently he wasn’t thrilled because he started hissing and attempting to scratch me with his claws. This is what made me decide our relationship could not continue.

We got the hook out without hurting Fred and put him back.

I don't think I want a turtle anymore.

daily dose of fiber

I’m pretty sure my (other) dog has lost her mind. That or she’s smarter than me. Which is obviously a possibility.

I wanted a Yorkie, found tons of Yorkies, talked the husband into “just looking” at Yorkies and HA we got a Yorkie.

That eats walls.

When she was a cute widdle puppy she was in a kennel because I couldn’t work all day, fight Austin traffic and come home to poop thoughtfully deposited throughout our house.  Over a year later I decided she needed freedom because she is the cutest dog. Ever. So she was roaming the house. Until she decided to eat a coaster and randomly poop. She was then confined to the upstairs thanks to a baby gate at the bottom of the stairs. Until she decided to scale it and run the downstairs.  She was then confined to the master bathroom (which is like a small apartment so it’s not like she isn’t still living the high life).

Then it happened.

She started eating the walls.

We spray them with “don’t eat this” stuff and she obviously finds the will to push through. We bought her toys to occupy her during the day. Apparently the wall tastes better.   The best part is when you look at the wall and yell at her she wags her tail like it’s a good thing.  Little does she know that when her sister goes to the vet tomorrow I’m going to ask them for a way to outsmart my little “wall eating monster” before the house collapses. 

Because if it collapses I can’t sue my own dog right?

packagers need not apply...I've got this!

We bought a pool for the backyard. Half for me and half for my step son. Fifty dollars at Academy and according to the box “easy set up” so I figured in no time I’d be swimming! I also purchased an awesome blue flotation raft for my pop up pool.

We came home and I supervised the husband as he fought the wind to set up the pool. 5 hours later it was successfully filling up while we ignored the fact that we are on water restrictions thanks to our drought.

Being the cautious person I am I suggested we (him) make our back yard ghetto and build a chicken wire fence around the pool to keep his monster dogs out. Great idea! 

Until the next morning.

I was off work for the day so I planned the entire day to do nothing (typical) and sun bathe before the step son got here and peed in my pool.

I applied tanning lotion, grabbed the awesome raft and headed outside. To see his big overweight lab struggling to get out of the half deflated pool.

After a few phone calls to the husband involving special words and spending my entire day draining the rest of the pool, washing it and trying to make it fit back in the box I exchanged it because there was a hole in it.

They didn’t ask what caused the hole.

I do however have a new respect for the people that package pools in the tiny little boxes. Because I don’t see how a human managed to ever get that in the box.

Tropical Storm Day (at the beach!!)

At the end of our visit with my step son we took him to the beach. All he had mentioned was going to the beach. So we loaded up and drove the three and a half hours there. Being the planners we are we checked the weather just outside of Houston (an hour before the beach) only to see that Tropical Storm Don was making it’s way right towards our destination. Great. Does this mean a spacious beach area to choose from?

We get to Galveston and spend 20 minutes trying to find the beach. How two adults can be on an island and not locate the beach is kind of impressive. We find the beach, pay (which why is a beach not free?) and realize that apparently lots of other people did not get the Hurricane memo because the pay-per-beach was crowded! So we walk 10 miles (a quarter of a mile) down from the car, find a spot, spread everything out, lather the kid with sunscreen (because its not at all sunny) and I send the boys into the potentially shark/jellyfish infested waters.

I lay back, enjoying the 40mph winds hitting me only to be interrupted moments later by the joyous sounds of the step son letting me know he had salt in his mouth. Um, duh, you’re at the beach. Instead being the excellent bonus mom I am I first took like 10 pictures of his meltdown (priorities) then proceeded to help him rinse his mouth. He then sat down letting me know he never wanted to get in the water at the beach again. Lucky for you kid a Hurricane is about to make that a reality.

So after only being there maybe an hour we loaded up and headed to the car. No sooner did the kid get in and toss sand everywhere in my car did the torrential down pour start. I then felt the need to point out how great it was that we drove three and a half hours for one hour at the beach.

We navigated our way (in the storm) to the ferry because we promised him we’d take him. Surprisingly there wasn’t a long “evacuate for the Hurricane” line, yet. Also unsurprisingly as soon as we got on the ferry he wanted to get out and walk around the boat. Super, I was actually hoping for the chance to get soaked.

Then the navigation system let us know that the quickest way back home was on the ferry. So we turned around and got back on. Which took no time at all because what other retarded people are trying to ride a ferry onto an island during a hurricane?

Overall I think it was a great trip. He hated the ocean, but the Hurricane took care of that. Sealed the deal that I will never have sand in the car again.  

best friend (not) forever...

I have had this bff (because that’s even a real thing when you’re an adult?). We were pals. She’s the one that jumped up and down with me when I announced my engagement. Keeping with the trend she also jumped up and down with me when I announced my nuptial plans in Vegas and we began all the plans for the journey there.

The buzz kill? She didn’t show. Then she became the ex bff. (Now it’s actually a thing).

After forcing 13 apologizes and making her perform ridiculous (non sexual) acts of kindness for me, I let her back in. And by “in” I mean back in the “cool club” where clearly I am the president (of one). But honestly, it wasn’t operating up to its potential without the help of the Vice Prez.

Life was good, she was back, the world was right, incurable diseases might now be cured. Then the Scientists gave up the search for a cure.

It went something like this:

BFF: (via txt) Hey so me and the boyfriend (who happens to be my neighbor so where is my thank you for that hook up?) and Shaquitha (name has been changed to protect privacy) are going to this thing tonight could you keep an eye on my car in the bizarre event the ex girlfriend randomly stalks the house tonight?

Me: (not via txt…just silently to myself). First of all why is the ex girlfriend stalking vehicles a thing? Obviously my car with a mind of its own has proven it could run her over if you’d like. Also and more importantly why has the neighborhood excluding your bff (me) and apparently the crazy ex girlfriend been invited to this thing?

What I actually responded with: “Sure”.

My feelings are dented.

I’m currently in the market for a new bff.

going to get my new Bentley and by Bentley I mean affordable SUV

I need want a new car. Preferably an SUV because I have a car. I’m also bored with my current car however in my defense it has issues.

I’m not quite sure what I was thinking living in Texas and agreeing to leather seats. I might deserve that punishment.

The car also has a neon display of decorative lights on the dash. They have been there awhile. Probably alerting me of some significant issue with the car. I’ll just continue to disregard because eventually I’ll trade it in. Hopefully it won’t explode before then.

And then it recently tried to run me over. I think it’s best we cut ties.

Conveniently all of these things help my “I want need a new car!” status with the complaint department (husband).

So I think the day has come.

Tomorrow.

Because today we are at work and apparently they don’t think “can I leave to go look at new cars?” is a valid reason to miss work. I need the extra “thinking” time anyways to narrow it down. So far I’ve narrowed it to an SUV. But I’ve ALSO narrowed it to black.

Which is ridiculous because I live in Texas and we are experiencing apparently the worst heat wave in the history of the world. Also I’m that person that never washes my car, ever.

It seems that husband thinks a Hummer is a bad idea. Apparently gas is expensive and something about why I need a tank? Like he’s never seen me drive!  He did however humor me and let me test drive one. This led to me secretly disliking them.

Getting a new car might be silly because I rarely drive. Husband and I are stuck lucky enough to work next door to each other. So we carpool. Most days. Unless we dislike each other that morning. We always bring his truck because it’s manly. And because he often runs work errands that require him to bring back large objects that won’t fit in my car. In the event I do land a new car it will live in the driveway. Until I nag him enough to “make space for my brand new black car in the garage because it’s too hot for it to be in the driveway.”

So I’m certain tomorrow is the day. It has to be because the end is near (obviously). I’m also preparing myself that tomorrow is the pre day because you never get a new car the day you start looking.

Husband says we are driving around Austin tomorrow test driving every SUV possible. Except Hummers. Which should be great. Because I’m a talker, until I’m faced with a car salesman then suddenly I have no voice and can’t remember what I want.

But maybe before my next car payment is due I’ll have a new, never going to be driven, black SUV.

my unintentionally numbered days

I’m pretty sure I gave myself accidental Dust Destroyer inhalation disease. And if I Google that shit it better be a real thing doctors are working to cure because my days are obviously numbered.

I’m guessing I can sue my employer for this as well. Had it not been for the job they gave me and the Dust Destroyer they supplied me the above mentioned offense would not have occurred.

It’s all because my desk was intentionally placed (I believe) in the most unflattering position possible for discreetly searching the web at work. Someone obviously tipped my job off months, maybe years before I came along and they nailed my desk down and said I was going to sit this way. So a wild hair struck me, I thought I could possibly turn my monitor a certain way to make it more difficult for sneakers (and not your shoes, but those pesky rule followers at work) to see.

So I turned it, then went to the sneakers lookout, realized I could still see the monitor. Came back, turned it again, checked the lookout, gave up thinking there would ever be privacy for my internet actions.

Then in my defeat I recognized my desk was dusty! So I moved it all again, stole the Dust Destroyer off the co-workers desk (it’s ok because she’s at the beach, no dusting needed there) and went wild dusting stuff. I’ll admit it got crazy and I went a little overboard, but in my defense I did not know, nor did I read the cautions on the back of the can before use.

After I inhaled all the dust that has apparently collected since the dinosaurs walked around and I revived myself I figured it was a good time to read those cautions on the can. Except that I couldn’t. Because the can was now magically frozen from use. However that happens.

So I waited for the can to warm and realized I wasn’t (obviously) in immediate danger.

And so it reads:

Caution (in red to help me find it, how thoughtful): KEEP OUT OF REACH OF CHILDREN. My first mistake.

THE INTENTIONAL MISUSE BY DELIBERATELY INHALING CONTENTS MAY BE FATAL. Does this mean I’ll live because it wasn’t intentional?

I think I might survive, narrowly, but I’m still googling to see how advanced the treatment for unintentional misuse has come.

I may also contact a lawyer for a pre-wrongful death suit. Only for my husband’s benefit.

who even likes Scrabble anyways

Since I’ve gotten my new cell phone my husband (as before mentioned) has continued to kick my butt in Scrabble. Which is devastating to me since I’ve taken pride in my excellent English related skills and was always an advanced student in that (one) area. And now he’s taken it away from me. Typical.

Usually when one of us takes our turn we have to send a text message to let the other know that it’s their turn. Until recently the phone started sending a notification. That’s thoughtful, cuts out a lot of work for me.

Then it really outdid it self. I was feeling particularly pleased because during our most recent game I was ahead the whole time. Until the end when he made some lame word and got 6 million points. During my fit throwing defeat where I was accusing him of taking my one great quality away the phone decided to alert me. To let me know that I had lost. Thank you. I wasn’t aware.

He also spoke the worst words ever during the defeat: “I will let you win next time”. Excuse me husband? Have we met? I cannot accept a pity win. Now I don’t even think we can play anymore because in the off chance I ever win I won’t even know if I can legitimately walk around for a week rubbing it in.

So now I’m not too sure about my new cool phone. It’s created self esteem issues for me. The husband is already a professional ironer now Scrabble? I might need to look into therapy to deal with this. I wonder if there is an app for that…

can we get a handicap placard for the dog?

Do dogs gradually go blind? Or do they just wake up one day and they’re like “Shit I can’t see anything?”

I’m pretty sure either her eyes are starting to suck or she’s just becoming old, cantankerous and retreating back to childhood adolescence, all of which I’m not impressed with.

But my dog, Daze (like the flower, she came pre-named), my beloved “mutt” or chupacabra as my husband so “lovingly” refers to her, is 9. I think. She’ll be 9 this December or maybe 10, not that I think it matters since a dog’s age advances much more rapidly than ours. I’ll do better with remembering ages when I have actual human babies.

I inherited her when she was 6 months old either 9 or 10 years ago. Ugliest Most beautiful fur baby I’ve ever seen. She came free with bad hair, nastiest breath ever and an over-eagerness to bite everyone. Angel from heaven.

She’s been loyal, wonderful and consistent. I can count on her to bark for 3 hours when someone stops by. I can also count on her to poop in the same place (thanks for not changing it up). But now I think the vision is going. I’m not sure how she’ll know where the pooping spot is.

So usually, since I’m lazy, I stand at the back door and yell loud enough for her to hear me upstairs in her room (our bathroom). Really it’s a challenge to yell that loud because it’s far, especially if the dryer is going. Then here she comes, racing her sister Bella (the over grown Yorkie) down the stairs and out the door to potty while standing on only one leg. For real, how does a dog balance on one leg. Pretty sure she studies gymnastics in her free time.

Now it seems like I have to scream for 3 minutes, then sigh and walk over to the bottom of the stairs and scream some more because I’m certainly not wasting a trip up to get her.

Eventually, she comes. Slowly, as if she doesn’t care that I have things to do. She takes her time, enjoying each step on her way down the stairs, strolls across the living room through the kitchen then stops to investigate the opening that is the back door as if she’s never seen it before.

I try to encourage her by (gently) attempting to close the door (and push her out…I’m going to be a great parent) and she still stands there hanging onto the ledge. So then I feel bad and open the door and wait.

I’m getting the vibe she doesn’t have that zest to race her sister anymore. So I’ve concluded she might be losing her sight or they’ve come to a secret agreement about always letting Bella win.

I suggested to my husband we take her to the vet, after I probably made it worse when I shined a flashlight in her eyes thinking that I was a vet, and going to see something. He said we weren’t treating her if she is blind because it’s expensive (um what if it was our child?). Duh husband there isn’t a pill for this stuff. Is there? Because if so, scratch what I agreed too. She’s getting it.

I said “I know we’ll just help her and carry her up and down the stairs” and by we I meant him. “Dang I just got down here and forgot the blind dog, could you go get her?”

Can we get a Seeing Eye service dog for our dog?

"wait car! where you going? I'm not in you!"

I’m pretty sure my car should try out for a part in the next Transformers movie. I’m planning my early retirement solely based off of how secure I am at the thought my little Jetta will be seen on the big screens near you! Or maybe I just like writing about my car.

Whichever the case, if the car doesn’t become the next Autobot newbie I might report it into police for attempted manslaughter charges.

True story.

I (finally) pulled into my driveway after work (only took an hour and a half to go 29 miles), reached into the seat next to me and collected all my crap, carefully positioned it in my arms so that I didn’t have to make more than one trip, got out, went to hit the lock button on my key and realized the car was still running. Unwilling to set everything down because it did in fact take 2 minutes to balance it all I leaned into the car, which quickly caused a reshuffle of all of my strategically placed items, reached for the keys then it happened.

The car decided it wasn’t “in for the night” and casually backed down our steeply inclined driveway knocking me down in the process and tossing my belongings across a few yards. Thinking this is pretty bad, I obviously had no idea. I check to make sure all body parts are still attached, stand up, scan the area to see just how many people I embarrassed myself in front of, and then noticed the car was still going. Backwards. Down the street. Instead of making any logical choices (chase after it, scream at it) I just stand there and watch. As if maybe I needed popcorn in hand to make it a perfect moment.

Then came the Mexican/Indian man. I’m thinking surely he’s going to capitalize on some injuries compliments of my insurance because he’s driving his work truck. Quickly, I had to retract that thought as this man became my hero for the day. He stopped his truck (in the road) and ran after my car (because he must also be part Cheetah), jumped in and stopped the mad run away Jetta!

Since I was still in my yard doing absolutely nothing to help my angry car induced situation I had to make the walk of shame three houses up to retrieve my run away property.

“When Cars Attack!” might in fact be the title of the movie I scheme up if Transformers is a flop.

tomato is a good color for me

During the summer months in Texas (and we have 11 months of summer) when it is 100+ degrees I feel the ridiculous need to be outside in the heat. Typically I try to be near large amounts of water, ignoring the fact that I can’t swim. I can happily report that I am still tan from my fake bake before my nuptial visit to Las Vegas earlier in the year so I abstain from sunscreen. Generally I also wear make up any time I set foot outside my home so that small children are not afraid, but this past weekend I thought I’d throw caution to the wind and save the last of the make up I’m trying to hoard and bare my pasty white face at the pool.

For 3 hours.

I sure was in the cool water ignorantly splashing around with my husband and step son unbeknownst to me the pain that would soon be mine.

It wasn’t until that evening when I looked in the mirror did I realize. However, I should have been tipped off by the crazy looks I got during the quick run to the grocery store after the pool.

Three days later, when I can safely touch my face without pain and finally apply make up in attempts to cover my “facial dandruff” as I have thoughtfully named it. The lesson here is that when living in Texas one should avoid all public appearances for a minimum of one week following a massive facial burn with the intention of avoiding cruel and unfortunate ridicule.

I honestly didn’t know, dang ya’ll.

driving instructor (clearly) needed

Anyone who knows me knows I’m not a parallel parker. I was fortunate enough to avoid taking a driving test at 16, probably because the instructor feared for his life at the thought of sharing a small easily destroyable space with me. I’ve decided he “passed” me through the driving test so that he could one day enjoy his grandchildren.

As a result I have spent the past twelve years avoiding situations that might require parallel parking. Easy as that may sound, living in Austin makes it damn near impossible. I however, being one that is not easily conquered, will choose to take the “high road”. That means driving around as long as it takes to find a space that I can, without shame, park my car. If that plan fails, I just return home. I probably didn’t really need to go to that appointment for those test results anyways…

I was content living with my driving “handicap” until I began my current job. We are offered two options, a parking garage to park our car in the shade or a side street that many of the Austin Bums call home which offers four elite parking spaces. For those who can parallel park.

The motivating difference is that to park in the shady garage I need to leave my house 15 minutes earlier to give myself enough time to find a spot (this is not Walmart people. You cannot sit and wait as long as you please on a car to maybe back out in the next 15 minutes), park the 3 miles (it seems) from the office, then walk inside (in flip flops, while carrying my heels, my purse, my lunch box and trying to update Facebook). Or I can leave at the normal time, park 20 feet from the door and take my time walking in. All that stood in my way were 4 parallel parking spaces.

Naturally when I show up to the aforementioned 4 parking spaces, there is one space left that I’m pretty sure was intended for a child’s tricycle. However, considering I didn’t allot for the extra time to park in the garage and attempting to ignore the early morning gawkers who apparently have nothing better to do than stand outside and watch me attempt to park, I decide there is no turning back. I must make this my Everest!

Twenty minutes later (so I actually could have parked in the garage and saved time), I successfully maneuvered my tiny car into this spot. As I stood photographing my accomplishment, it occurred to me that unless the person in front of me left first I was never getting my car out. It also occurred to me that the police might randomly search for the owner of my car to check whether the car was parked by a drunken person or a secret parallel parking genius. One or the other…

a blog is born

I decided (like twelve different times) that I should start a blog. Then I wondered what to blog about that anyone other than me or my mom would actually read.

Subsequently I got distracted by the Scrabble app on my new phone and the current “Scrabble War”, if you will, with my husband. (who by the way is winning even though I’ve decided this is “just for fun” and we won’t be keeping score, that is unless I start winning). I mean really HAT RED who thinks that is a word? Nice one husband.

I’ve mentioned casually over the past year that I needed a new cell phone and the new EVO coming out certainly didn’t help my cause. After a year of filing grievances with the complaint department i.e. whining to my husband I am now the proud new owner of an EVO. Apparently with that comes the responsibility of getting spanked at Scrabble by your husband.

Who really gets 69 points for “ZEST”?

So while sitting at my desk wracking my brain for a four letter word containing both Z and V it occurred to me that this might be something entertaining and I might receive suggestions for imaginary words in made up languages including the most difficult letters possible while ignoring the fact that when you do read this my current Scrabble dilemma will be long over.

The good thing about the apparent lack of talent in the virtual Scrabble world is that it did help me “kick start” the blog. At least I’m kicking something today while my husband and Scrabble are kicking me…