Gibbs says: Rule #9

Special Agent Gibbs has been visiting me in my sleep…in a totally un-scandalous sort of way. Considering what a total NCIS nerd I am and my propensity for bizarre dreams I’m not really surprised I’m starting to get guest stars from the cast, I just am impressed by how horribly awkward my sleeping brain has managed to make them.

Dream #1

Paper or plastic?

I’m in line at the grocery store when I realize that Mark Harmon was my checker. We make extremely awkward small talk when I realize who he is. I say something along the lines of “Wow, I mean, you’re the star of a really popular tv series and you still have to get a second job at a grocery store to make ends meet? That….sucks.”

He stares at me for a minute then in total Gibbs fashion replies “…..yah.” <extremely awkward silence>

I awkwardly gather my groceries and as I turn to leave realize that the rest of the cast is waiting for him.  Dinozzo (not Michael Weatherly) gives me a look like what the fuck is wrong with you?? And I leave. The end.

As if that one wasn’t weird enough last night he showed up again. This time he made his appearance as Gibbs himself and he had a message for me: Shave your armpits “because no one wants to see that”.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

PS: Just in case you’re as concerned as Gibbs about my grooming habits, I never don’t shave my arm pits. Now you know.

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Horses and Their Supernatural Powers

This is an old one (ya know, back when I had landlords and stuff), but it still makes me laugh ;)

 

I believe my landlords horses are capable of teleportation.

Its true!

Not too long ago I was cleaning stalls when I thought I saw something move in the dark. Looking hard, I didn’t see anything so I continued to muck. As I was leaving the barn I saw “something” move again and realized that it was Sadie, the 16 hand 1500 lb black Percheron, grazing on my front lawn. Needless to say I was slightly surprised and spent the next few minutes trying to herd her back into the barn.

To this day though I’m confused as to how she got OUT of the barn, since the ONLY way out would have been for her to silently and stealthily sneak past the stall I was cleaning without me seeing her. Now in my experiance 16hh 1500lb Percherons are not really known for their skills in stealth movement so the only other option is….

TELEPORTATION!! Its only logical :nod:

Then today they did it again! I was filling water buckets and so was peering in the stall to see how full they were. I observed Rusty, a chestnut morgan, munching on his hay. I took two steps to turn off the water faucet and pick up his scoop of grain. I entered Rusty’s stall and not really looking at the horse said “Rusty you’ve made a total mess of your-” I was going to say grain bucket, but at that point I had looked up and realized that the horse I was staring at wasn’t Rusty, but Khaiber (a bay arab)! We just stared at each other for a moment or two, Khaiber blinking with doe like innocence. I walked back out of the stall to see Rusty, in Khaibers stall! WTF?

The paddock gates were open, but still, they would have had to left the stalls, gone out of their fairly large paddocks and back through the others, and back into each others stalls in a matter of a few seconds. So they either completed the fastest equine Chinese fire drill in history, I’m out of my mind and cant tell the difference between a chestnut morgan and a dark bay arabian, OR….(you guessed it)

TELEPORTATION!!

Alternate theory…they’re unicorns in disguise. I’m gonna think on that one.

 

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The Curious Incident of the Bassets in the Night-Time

Super Sexy Boyfriend Luke has two basset hounds named Roofus & Roxi. They’re sweet and silly and smelly, which I think defines every basset hound ever. At night they sleep in the laundry/mini mud room to keep them from following their noses into the garbage/recycling. Their dog door is in the laundry room door, but it’s locked at night to keep them from baying at nothing all night (and I mean ALL night). Typically everyone is ok with this situation, until last night.

I woke up at 3:30 to the sound of a basset hound scratching at the floor in the laundry room.

Scratch Scratch Scratch

I rolled over and tried to ignore it, but it was pretty noticeable.

Scratch Scratch SCRATCH

It had been quite a few minutes. I assumed it was Roxi since she’s fond of knocking her food bowl over and then burying the kibble in her blankets so later when you go to do laundry in your bare feet it’s like a mini mine field.

SCRATCH SCRATCH SCRATCH

Ok, I had had enough of dogs keeping me awake. I swung myself out of bed determined to take whatever toy or food she was attempting to bury on the linoleum and finally have some peace and quiet. Something to note at this point, which is a total overshare, but totally makes the story more funny (at least for me) is that I sleep in the nude. I stormed, totally naked, across the house to the laundry. To my surprise, I saw Roofus, not Roxi, scratching at the baby gate keeping them inside.

Something I hadn’t considered in my quest to quiet the dogs, is that, unlike Sammy who simply wags her tail when she notices I’m awake, Roofus and Roxi are basset hounds. The moment they saw me they both began baying at the top of their basset hound lungs. At 3:30am.

Roofus: ROOF ROOF ROOF ROOF!!

Roxi: AHROO AHROO AHROO AHROO!!

Me: NO! AHH! For the love of god be quiet! Luke and the girls are sleeping!!

Bassets: ROOF AHROO AHROO ROOF ROOF!!

I quickly opened the gate into the laundry room to try to quiet them down. Still making as much noise as possible, Roofus began to throw himself at the dog door while Roxi began to throw herself at me.

Me (still naked): No! No jumping! Ow! The claws! Gah the drool! Noooo!

I opened the dog door for Roofus and he bolted outside. I peered through the window to see what the big fuss had been about (turned out the water bowl was outside & he was thirsty). In the fraction of a second I took my attention off of Roxi, she realized that I had left the gate open. She flew through it at the speed of light and careened around the house, nails clacking loudly on the wood floor like a little four legged tap dancer. I sprinted after her, grabbing her by the collar right before she made it through the door to Luke’s room (if he wasn’t already awake he would have been when she dove onto the bed!).  I lead her back to the laundry room, shut the gate behind us, and waited for Roofus to come back inside. Roxi leaned against the dryer and beat her tail against it like a drum BONG BONG BONG until I grabbed it to keep it from wagging.

Finally Roofus returned, I closed the dog door behind him, and then headed back to bed (being sure to close the gate securely behind me). As I crawled back into bed I was convinced I had woken everyone in the house (I don’t think I could have made any more noise if I had let a marching band through the living room) and Luke would be furious since he had to be up in a couple hours. He rolled over and groggily (and non-furiously) asked “errythin’ okay babe?”

Me: OMG babe I’m so sorry! Roofus was scratching cause he was thirsty and then Roxi escaped and I was chasing her naked and-

Luke: ZZZZzzzzzzzZZZZZ

Me: ….never mind.

And then finally (FINALLY!) everything was quiet.

…..Until the thunder storm started a half hour later.

Roxi: AAAAHHHHRROOOO! AHHHHROOOOOOOOO!!

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Be Like Ants

On my last visit to visit Roo I accompanied her to church. You might not get why that statement alone is funny, but maybe you will when you’ve been reading this blog for a while.

Roo: I’m going to church with D tomorrow.

Me: LOL try not to catch fire when you walk in the door.

Roo: Fuck you.

She’d been going with D to his awful mega church and this was the third part of one of those awful sermon series on giving. Even back in the day when I was attending Crosslegs Church regularly with my family, if we caught wind of one of these sermons coming up we were making a bee line to Skip Church’s Bistro instead.

Aside from the expected condescending money advice (said pastor might actually have more money than God) he had this important wisdom for us to adhere to:

Be like ants.

Ants. The idea was that ants instinctually save up their food and supplies for the winter time, and likewise we should save our money for times of recession yada yada yada. Be like ants! Roo and I made eye contact and it was on.

So we should…

Be attracted to sugary substances?

Carry over 100 times our body weight?

Walk in orderly lines?

Sneak into my kitchen?

Worship our queen?

Show up uninvited to picnics?

And then, oh then, we found this: Eat some freaky fungus and become a zombie?

And thats the lesson I learned from church that Sunday.

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WTF Acronyms

The internet is full of  acronyms such as OMG WTF, which, coincidentally enough, is what what I say after seeing some of those acronyms. As nice as it is to shorten up phrases you’re using all the time, there really should be rules for making these things up, like, they can’t already be widely in use with a different meaning. Because when acronyms have multiple meanings, it gets awkward.

That being said, here’s a couple acronyms I’ve seen that you will NEVER see on this blog (at least, not used like that):

AF (aunt flow aka your PERIOD)- as a photographer this means Auto Focus and it always will. Even my lens agrees with it’s little af/mf button. I see woman writing about the problems they’re having with their “AF” and I’m like “JESUS CHRIST…my lens has never done that!!” If at any point your lens produces THAT kind of spotting, you probably should call the repair shop…or an exorcist.

STD (save the date)- this is a wedding term that should never ever be used. It makes me want to slap someone. If you don’t know what an STD actually is you aren’t ready to be married. Also you’ve probably never left the house. Save The Date cards are typically really cute and fun, can we not use an acronym that brings to mind itching and burning during urination (at best!)?

“OMG I just got Lindsay’s STD! I’m just itching for the wedding!”

DH (dearest/darling husband)- No. Just no. I get that ladies out there may not be as sports savvy as some, so let me explain: DH is Designated Hitter. It’s a baseball term. It has been for about five trillion years. If you ask your husband if he’s your DH he’ll probably give you a look that is partially terrified and partially confused…unless you’re the type that has a safe word in the bedroom, and then he’ll probably be like “I’ll get the paddle!!”

So please, for the love of god, if you all could come up with some alternate acronyms that would be awesome. If not for me, for the sake of your designated hitter.

What are some internet acronyms that make you want to stab someone with a fork?

 

PS: I use OpenOffice which tries to autofill longer words. Apparently I forgot to put a space when I typed “your PERIOD” which it immediately learned. So now every time I write “you” it’s like “Do you mean ‘yourPERIOD’??”. No OpenOffice. Just…no.

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iPhone Withdrawal

Well I’ve gone and done it this time. After a good two years of abuse, my iphone 4 took a relatively harmless looking plunge off of my desk and it broke the lcd.

Yah. That.

It’s only been a couple of days and I’m already getting twitchy without it! The screen sorta kinda works, but everything is inside out and backwards and it gives me a headache to look at. Am I still using it? Hell yah!

I’ve decided, partially because I’m batshit crazy, but mostly because I’m cheap broke , to do the repair myself. This handy video has some good instructions:

Too long; didn’t watch: You have to disassemble the whole fucking phone. Seriously.

I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty though, in the not so distant past I decided to rebuild the carburator on my old truck…on the kitchen table. My mother was not blessed.

I ordered this really awesome tool kit with tiny screwdrivers and prying tools and a suction cup and some other things that look like guitar pics (they probably are actually). After they shipped the kit I get an email saying “oh by the way, there are some shipping issues we already knew about and it’s going to take like two weeks longer to get to you than we originally said. Is that alright?”. Is me paying in monopoly money alright?  These people are selling kits to fix a smashed to heck iphone, I feel like they should realize their customers are flipping desperate phone junkies who are going through withdrawals. Asking them to wait TWO WEEKS for the kit to repair their precious might as well be asking for an eternity.

So I’ll just have to use my own tiny screwdrivers and guitar pics and find my own gentle prying device…because  the replacement screen & lcd are out for delivery RIGHT. NOW.

Wish me luck…I think I’ll be needing it.

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Midnight Munchkin Attack

Super Sexy Boyfriend Luke has two beautiful little girls who live with him two weeks out of the month. They’re his of course, I’m not saying he just has these cute random little girls who come and pester him and eat his food…that’s my job. I haven’t come up with clever nicknames for them yet, so I’ll just call them K & L.

I love them to death, but not having little ones of my own, there have been some things that have taken getting used to. Mostly the way that they’ll show up in his bedroom in the middle of the night. Not because of…reasons *nudge nudge wink wink*, but because they’re absolutely stealthy about it  until they are RIGHT NEXT to the bed. Only then do they say something that wakes me up. And my un-baby-seasoned system, not accustomed to tiny people waking me up at night, is CONVINCED that anyone who is suddenly in the room MUST be an axe murderer.

K (silently moving across the house and appearing beside the bed): …………DADDY I FREW UP! :(

Me (jumping out of my skin into adrenaline pounding fight or flight mode because theres an invader in the room): AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!

K:  AAAHH!*BAARFFF*

Oopsie.

I’m getting better though, earlier this week L came into the room crying that her pillow pet wasn’t in her bed (it had fallen next to the bed) and I did NOT leap up and try to karate chop her, so that’s an improvement.

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A great cat name, or the best cat name of all time?

Four score and seven years ago, back when I was living in a McMansion with no furniture, I worked with my best friend “Roo” in a pet food store. We didn’t sell animals at The Pet Food Store which was cool because my view of puppy stores is about the same as puppy mills, which is about the same as cancerous sores. What we did do isadopt out kittens and cats through a local rescue which is way more awesome because the kitties come fixed & with all their shots. And also because we could decide not to give you a cat if you say “supposedly” “supposably”. Just kidding, we would never turn someone down for saying “supposably”, but drop an “irregardless” and you are right out.

All of our kitties also came with names that are usually picked by the rescue. The rescue sucked at naming cats. One kitty we had was named (100% serious about this)… Catcat. I desperately wanted someone cool to adopt Catcat just so that she could get the dignity of a decent name.

I shared my hope for Catcat to a cat loving customer. “Well,” he said “Its better than Clamidia.” which is a difficult point to argue since MOST things are better than a venereal disease but begs the question …WHAATT??!?!

Apparently he had been at a shelter and came upon a cat that the rescue had named (you guessed it) Clamidia. And they could NOT figure out what he found so funny. We, on the other hand, thought it was hilarious and fantastically awkward. Imagine the awesomeness/terrible misunderstandings a name like that would lead to:

I went to the cat rescue and got Clamidia.

My wife was lonely so I got Clamidia for her.

I paid $100 to get Clamidia.

Now that we have Clamidia our house feels like a home.

Awesome.

My best guess was that someone thought they were naming her after a flower and were terribly, terribly wrong. Either that or they totally got it and were in the back making jokes like we were:

That last couple looked like they were interested in getting Clamidia.

We could give Clamidia to that old woman!

We finally got rid of our Clamidia.

I would totally adopt that cat and keep her name. I’d call her Clap for short.

As for having the best cat name of all time, Clamidia only has one contender that I’ve heard of, and its tough competition: Roo’s former cat, Poonani.

I could go there, I really could, but I won’t.

You’re welcome.

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100 Days to Get My Shit Together

I was having a bit of an existential freak out today. How bad was it? I actually googled “how to get my shit together”.  Which you would think would not be helpful at all (what the hell does google know about my shit?*), but it turned up this blog post which, despite being all old and broken, it set off a lightbulb in my head. Instead of just saying “I really wish I could  get my shit together” I need a specific plan, a set time, and to be held accountable to really make it happen. This may seem like a “no duh” thing for lots of people, but it was a total “ah ha!” moment for me.

This is something that I put into practice lately without even realizing it. Super sexy boyfriend Luke is doing a 12 mile mud run of torture called Tough Mudder later this year. I’ve been supportive of him in a cheerleader sort of way, but a few months ago he told me about another mud run that was coming up that he was going to enter for practice “It’s only a 5k…YOU could do it with me!” and for some bizarre reason I agreed. Just to clarify something, I DON’T run, at all…or at least I didn’t. I had always thought “Oh it would be nice to be fit enough to run 5k” but had never put it into action. Now I had a set date I NEEDED to, plus Luke to keep me accountable. The plan came in the way of a “Couch to 5k” app. I was a little skeptical I would be able to do it even down to the wire, but when the day came I was all over it!

So in the same way I’m going after the getting together of my shit. While 100 days may not be enough to totally change my life, there hopefully will be some substantial changes. According to timeanddate.com 100 days from now is Tuesday, September 18, 2012. So today is day 1.

Day 1

Right now the plan is to make a plan. I grabbed a moleskin journal and I even put a title page on it (does anyone else NEED a new notebook and the perfect pencil to undertake projects? I know I do :-P). Now, I’m looking to you, my 1.5 readers for some accountability! If you come to this blog a while from now and don’t see any action on this, feel free to nag me!! First thing to do is figure out what shit needs to be gotten together and figure out a plan for it. I’ll update you all more when I know what the hell I’m talking about.

 

 

 

*probably everything. It’s GOOGLE.

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