PS:
Seriously dude. Did I insult your mother or something?
That is all.
-Mel
Dear Sandman Post Script
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Tag Archives: wtf
Dear Sandman,
It’s official. We’re in a fight.
Dude. Seriously. It’s Saturday morning. Couldn’t you have just sprinkled me with a wee bit more sleeping dust last night?
This is how I’m going to greet you until you let me sleep past 4:00 A.M. again.
That is all.
-Mel
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what have I done?
I’m not quite over the fact that yesterday I announced that I was a Fat Chick (chances are you knew that, but for some reason me saying it makes it feel like I’ve suddenly taken the filter off your eyes and you’re seeing me AS I REALLY AM FOR THE FIRST TIME!)
It burns! Look away!!
Not only that…I also announced, IN WRITING, that I was planning to start training for the Little Rock Half Marathon. And you all saw it.
As a matter of fact, according to my stats on FatChicksRunning.com, a lot of people saw it. I guess it’s too late to take it back.
Crap.
Fine. I won’t take it back. But I will say that maybe you should be worried about my sanity because right now I’m on deadline for LOVE SUCKS! and I’m shopping a new proposal (Ironically, it’s very closely related to the whole ‘fat chick’ thing I’ve got going) and I’m also contemplating returning to the workforce until we sell the house in Oxford. Oh, and then there’s the holidays… and since I’m doing this training…I won’t be drinking booze for a while.
I better damn well get big fat endorphin high off this running thing, that’s all I’m saying.
Gee Mel? Glutton for punishment much?
Have you got big plans this weekend. I’m going to my friend’s house tonight for some chili and booze (it’s my last hurrah) Bitchy Burns better be ready for me…
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state of the fair…
So the family and I are headed to the Arkansas State Fair today when the kids get out of school. I haven’t been to the fair in forever.
Get this, they’ve been talking all week about the new ‘on a stick’ foods available at this year’s fair.
Fried
Dr. Pepper: estimated 820 Calories
Chocolate covered bacon (aka Pig Lickers) : 683 calories
And of course there are the standards:
Fried Twinkies: up to 700 calories depending on the size you order
Fried Snickers: 450 calories
Foot long corndogs (yum): 375 calories (winner!)
Why must we fry everything? Has anyone tried the Fried Soda/Choc covered bacon/Fried Twinks/or Fried Snick
ers? Can you tell me about it? (after the heart attack, I mean)
I’ll be honest, I’m tempted to try a Fried Twinkie. But I just don’t think I can do it. Why? Because I’m terrified I’ll like it and then where will I be? On a gurney being rushed into the ER with someone sitting on top of me breaking my ribs and blowing air into my lungs.
What do you guys think? Should I tempt fate and blow my diet by foraging into the fried food fabulousness of the fair? What do you think I should try?
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way to ruin a good walk, lady
Yesterday Fishdog and I took the dogs for a walk. (btw, Fishdog blogged last night, pop over and check out his words of wisdom)
We have a nice, hilly neighborhood with lots of trees, so it’s a really great place to get some exercise in.
Ruby (the smug Pug) was so excited, she couldn’t contain herself. She loves a good walk. I didn’t think I was going to be able to keep up with her at first. She was straining against the leash, begging to run. I’m in no shape to run yet, so she just had to strain. Finally about 4 blocks into the walk, she chilled.
There is a field and a creek where we take the dogs so they can do their ‘walking’ business. Pete (the collie mix) is finicky about where he does his business. Even in the backyard, he’ll chose high grass or go behind a row of bushes. Pete likes his privacy.
Now we always carry doggy bags, just in case the dogs don’t take care of their business in the field area. I know I hate it when I find random piles in my yard and I make certain we don’t allow our animals to crap in our neighbors’ yards.
Which brings me to the rest of the story.
Fishdog and I were admiring a couple of yards on the street. Ruby sniffed around a culvert and decided that the ditch was the perfect place to pee. She peed, we moved on.
A door opened and I hear a lady’s voice “Hey!” It was a friendly voice. I turned around and smiled thinking maybe it was someone we knew. “Can I clean that up for you?” she asked.
What?
I was stunned. I said, “Um, no. She just peed. We have bags.” And we turned and walked away.
Can I tell you how much that pissed me off? Cuz it did. Royally.
I had already responded when I thought of a better comeback. (isn’t that always the way?) I should’ve said, “Sure. She peed a lot, so bring two sheets.” Fishdog suggested, “Nah. The leaves covered it up.”
I can’t believe she assumed I let my dog shit in her yard!
I guarantee you that after we walked on, she came outside and checked. Hah. Fishdog and I contemplated cleaning up our backyard last night and dumping the whole bag in hers…but that just wouldn’t be very neighborly. It sure would make me feel better though.
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a violation of rights
I’m thoroughly disgusted right now.
When I ran Rader to school this morning, I noticed my Obama yard sign had ‘fallen’ over. It looked odd because a: there was no wind last night and b: I had buried the sign pretty deep in the yard. I called Fishdog and told him it looked funny but that I would check it out when I got home.
It was just as I had suspected. Someone stole the sign post. At least they were kind enough to leave me my sign. (which is now tacked up on my tree…)
You know what? You have every right to disagree with me and my politics. But you have NO RIGHT to enter my yard and tamper with my property.
When I picked up the sign in Oxford, they told me that I would need to take it in at night because the signs were being slashed, stolen, and run over. I had a hard time believing that. I thought maybe it had happened just randomly or as a practical joke between friends.
I guess I was wrong.
What is the purpose of infringing on my rights to express my opinion? Did they think it would change my opinion? Did they think maybe if there was one less Obama sign up that people wouldn’t magically forget he was running?
What gives you the right to tell me my opinion is invalid? Because basically when you take the sign out of my yard or rip my bumper sticker off my car, you’re quashing my freedom of speech. And buddy, I hate to tell you, but I’ll fight tooth and nail for the right to express my opinion.
Get ready. The fight is on.
My yard. My sign. My freedom of speech. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to drive by my house. But trust me when I say by this afternoon, you’ll know damn good and well I’m supporting Obama.
More pictures to follow.
BTW: Author Maureen Johnson started a group called YA for Obama to encourage teens to get involved. Pop over and check it out. Opposing views are welcome.
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An Open Letter to Secret Deodorant
I tried a new deodorant. I had a coupon and I figured, why not? I’m not that smelly. It should work fine.
Well, it doesn’t. Not compared to Secret Platinum. So today I ran up to the drugstore to pick up Rader’s special deodorant (he is picky cuz he is really stinky LOL) and I decided to pick up my Secret and replace the bargain basement crap I bought last time.
And now for an open letter to Secret Deodorant:
Dear Secret,
Do. Not. Want.
I love your Platinum product. I do. But can you explain to me why you think I want my armpits to smell like Brazillian Cherries? Or Vanilla Chai? or Tropcial Tango?
I would like to have a nice little chat with your marketing department. You do not need to fix what isn’t broken. You do not have to try to make a good product better, by making it smell like cherries.
Cherry flavored armpits? I mean, REALLY?
I’m an (almost) 40 year old woman. I don’t want fruit or tea flavored armpits.
Whatever happened to just plain old powder? If you really must give us a smell, I liked that ‘Fresh Rain’ one. That was nice. Or was it shower fresh? Whatever it was fresh and it didn’t sound like I had Libby, Libby, Libby on my label, label, label.
It’d be really great if you would take this letter into consideration when you put out your next deodorant flavor. Women don’t want to smell like fruit cocktails.
Do. Not. Want.
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the worst thing ever to happen to me today
Okay look. I hate spiders. I do. They freak me the fuck out. Give me a snake any day over a creepy crawly hairy freaky big little spider.
Which brings me to the most horrible thing ever to happen to me. Well, most horrible thing ever to happen to me today.
I had gone grocery shopping. I was a good momma. I did my duty and even used my recycled shopping bags. I get home and Fishdog comes out to help me unload the groceries. Nice guy, right?
Don’t let those manners fool you. My husband is anything but nice. He is, in fact, responsible for the most horrible thing ever to happen to me today.
We had taken our first load of bags in. I stepped over to the mailbox. I open the mailbox and put my hand inside. No mail. I close the mailbox. Fishdog is standing next to me. He says, “Already got it and hey watch out for the spider that’s living in there.”
I didn’t hear him correctly. Right? Cuz that would mean he had let me stick my hand inside the mailbox inhabited by a living arachnid. So I glance over at the mailbox and this is what I saw:
not actual spider. In reality not actual size either. But whatever.This big fucking nasty hairy leg creeped its way out of the mailbox. I went into shock. I started screaming like a big old baby. I ran into the house and called Fishdog some names that I know would make a marine blush.
IT WAS IN THERE WITH MY HAND. It touched me. I know it did.
As a matter of fact, it’s still on me. I can feel it.
I had a Ricky Bobby moment. I stripped down to my underwear and yelled, “Sarah Palin work your moose-huntin’ magic and shoot that hairy beast! If you do, I swear I’ll vote for you.”
How could my husband, the man who supposedly loves me, let me stick my hand in a veritable nest of tarantulas? Why didn’t he kill the spider before I ever knew it was there? I may never be able to check the mail again.
So then I demanded asked Fishdog, kill that fucking thing before I die a little more inside Would you kindly do away with that venomous and deadly creature?
Instead of killing it, he set it free.
Folks, this is not the PETA headquarters. We kill spiders here. I don’t care if they eat mosquitoes or lay golden eggs. If you’re a spider, you get killed in my house. That’s the understood rule. Or at least it has always been…until now.
He let the fucker go in the front yard. And I know it’s working its way back to the mailbox because it laid 1 million-billion-katrillion baby spider eggs in there and it wants to be present when they are born and begin their take over of Chez Francis.
*shudder*
And that folks, is the most horrible thing ever to happen to me. Today.
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on the road again
I’ve been traveling a lot lately. First, Sockmonkey and I went to Florida for 10 days. Which was Teh Awesome. We were home 1 week before I had to drive to Oxford for a few house showings.
The showings were positive, but no offer.
Last week, we had more calls, so I went to Oxford again. Another positive showing but no offer.
This week, we took the plunge, marked the house down to FIRE SALE price and now I’ll be going back to Oxford on Friday…for what I hope will be the final weekend as Oxford homeowners.
So I’ve noticed a very scary trend while traveling lately. The route I drive from Little Rock to Oxford is trucker heavy. And I drive a little bitty Honda Civic hatchback. I feel like a mouse among elephants when I’m on the road.
Imagine how scary it is when I pass an 18-wheeler only to see that the driver is talking on a cell phone. Not using a bluetooth earpiece. Nope. On the cell phone.
I started counting on my drive home Monday. I counted 23 truckers talking on their phone. 23! Can someone tell me what is wrong with that picture? Yeah. Scary stuff.
Dear Truckers, get a bluethooth earpiece or get off the damn road. kthxbai.
For today’s election post:
Have you checked your facts today? (links for information on both campaigns, not just the for the candidate I’m voting for)
- Palin’s Energy Claims
- Obama campaign belittling Palin
- Misleading information re: McCain’s School Funding record
- Twisting FactCheck.org’s findings
And for a completely biased opinion…please check out my friend, Gabrielle’s blog and my rant comment. Yes, I was feeling super passionate this morning. And yeah, there’s no question which side of the red/blue line I’m standing in this election.
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begin rant
Had to run to the store real quicklike tonight because we were out of beer needed a ream of paper and other assorted sundries.
USA Drug is about a half mile from the house and perfect for a quick errand.
Usually.
I load up my basket with my 6 items. I get in line. And I wait.
and wait.
The clerk seems a little slow (I don’t mean slow as in slow. I mean just not in a real big hurry.) But we finally get to the lady in front of me. She scans her 40 million items and the lady hands her coupons.
This is where my head nearly popped-the-fuck-off.
The clerk took each coupon and found the exact item in the bag before she would scan the coupon. The lady gave her at least 10 coupons. She had 5 bags full of shit.
It took the clerk another 10 minutes to scan the coupons. I wish I was kidding.
They did not open another line, so of course, by the time the clerk finished, there were at least 5 people in line behind me.
I nearly screamed at her. Instead, I tweeted. I felt amazingly better after that.
/end rant
Bitchin' Fiction: Musings by author Melissa McKenzie / Melissa Francis 