Two Boy Joy

So, things get interesting having two little boys.
This evening, my 5 year old, Chaz, runs through the house yelling to me, "I'm the Incredible Hulk!!!"
Next, my 4 year old, Sully, runs through the house shouting, "And I'm Poop Man!!!"
Wait... What?
Poop Man?
Poop Man?
"Yah!" he says. "I chase Incredible Hulk and throw poop on him and cover him in my poop!"
In one breath, I think it's fuckin' hilarious. I love toilet humor.
Then again, I'm frightened at where my mind wanders from there.
Who's to say I don't go upstairs to check on them, only to see them flinging shit at each other like a couple of monkeys?
"Poop Man!"
Riiiiiight....


P.S.
Yah. They always run through the house like a couple of ninnies on coke. But that's a tale for another day.

Top Five

Top five reasons one can go fuck oneself:

1. That guy who yanked out in front of me, then slowed down to a snail's pace. Go fuck yourself, buddy!

2. That person in front of me at the bank drive-thru who finishes conducting business, then stays parked at the window while figuring their checkbook, making out their bills, and most likely reading the newspaper, and pondering the great wonders of the world. Go fuck yourself, pal!

3. That lady who takes all of an item on the shelf at the grocery, without consideration that someone standing right there, (like me, for instance) might want one of that item. Just because it's on sale, mind you. Who in the hell needs 8 jars of creamy peanut butter? Go fuck yourself, sister!

4. Speaking of the grocery... That lady who lollygags through the store and manages to take up the entire 8 foot wide isle. Let's not forget all of her kids running unsupervised from the store, throwing shit into my cart when my back is turned. You miss, can go fuck yourself up the ass.

5. That person who pays for one newspaper, but takes a stack of them out of the rack. Fuck you dude, and go fuck yourself while you're at it.

Oddity of Obssession

So I have these little "obsessions" that, come to find out, is actually part of bipolar disorder. BPD shares symptoms with other disorders, such as ADHD, Schizophrenia, depression, etc. My topic of rambling today happens to be about a shared symptom with OCD.

Many folks who know me personally know that one thing I'm famous for is my odd silverware obsession. My grandpa said it best when he said that I have to keep the silverware lined up like soldiers in the drawer. I can't walk away if one piece is out of sorts. I avoid looking in silverware drawers that aren't mine because of this.

Anyway...
So another obsession I have is digging in my ears with Q-Tips. I know it's not good for my ears, but it's something that I just have to do for some reason. I mean, I frequently make my ear canals bleed, that's how bad it is. What's worse? I thought we were out of Q-Tips. It's been like, 2 weeks. Yesterday I found a straggler in the medicine cabinet. I realized that I'm like a cotton swab junkie, because I was nearly drooling over the damned thing and carefully planning how much digging each ear would get.
I know. Weird.
No, wait. Not weird-- Twisted.
 
I take an anti-psychotic, a mood stabilizer, a mild tranquilizer, but I don't know if these or any other meds will ever cure the obsessions. I truly hope so.

Seriously... Do I Look Like I Can't Cook?

While talking to a family member this holiday season, (let's call her Jane Doe) I've been given the impression that she doesn't think I know how to cook. She'll even argue with me over making pancakes, because she wants to make them rather than try mine. (Which are FABULOUS, as a matter of fact.)
So she really has no idea whether or not I can cook at all. She's never dared to try my gourmet skills, so I find this highly annoying, though petty.

Now, see. When I was a teenager, my parents both worked 3rd shift. On weekdays, I'd cook supper when I could so my mother wouldn't have to wake up and cook. Though I cheat on my Chinese cuisine now, I have learned over the years how to make some pretty damned decent Chinese. I hate flat bottom woks, because growing up we had a round bottom wok, and I kick ass with one in my kitchen. And that's just Chinese.

A lot of the meals I cook right now are what I used to cook at home.That doesn't include my own creations, nor does it include sweets. I have perfected the Chocolate No Bake cookie recipe over the years. And I make some really amazing cakes. In fact, Jane Doe about had an orgasm in the middle of my kitchen while eating a slice of my cheesecake. I had to send my kids out of the room. But I can't cook, right?

Now I'm really not one to toot my own horn about my cooking, but sometimes I need to do more than toot...

The Flavor of Water

So today I was reading a bit of Useless Knowledge, and it says that humans can't taste water. We taste the minerals and impurities. Dogs, pigs, and other animals can taste the actual water.
And this got me to wondering....
How in the hell do they know what animals can or can't taste? Chuck says, "Well, they probably study the taste buds." That makes sense, to a point. Think of this: We have taste buds in the middle of our tongue that taste absolutely nothing. How do they know what taste buds taste, or if they even taste at all?
I guess I just haven't had this conversation with any dogs or pigs lately.

Didn't Your Momma Teach You How To Cross A Street?

Today I'm going to rattle on about Jaywalkers.
I hate jaywalkers.
You know, those bozos who stand at the side of the street, thumbs firmly inserted into their assholes, giving me dirty looks because I refuse to stop for them? OR. How about those ones who just take it upon themselves to waltz right out in to the middle of traffic, not bothering to look because they know you can't just run their dumbasses over.  Much as you'd like to...
HEY. Dumbfuck! Yah! YOU!
It's called a crosswalk. Can you say "Crosswalk"??
Were you not taught the proper and legal way to cross a street? Or were you just to dense to actually pick up on that? My bet is you're just too goddamned lazy.
Well, if you want me to stop for you, that's where you better be crossing.
How about from now on, everyone take a little consideration of OTHERS and stop the fucking jaywalking already?
Oh, and drivers aren't all innocent, either. I'm one who has rage issues with my BPD, and I have to use sheer will to keep from driving into the side of some asshole's car who doesn't stop for people in crosswalks.
So that's it for now.

'Tis The Season, And All...

So one of the problems I'm facing just now is trying to rethink my entire Christmas decoration scheme. New house means I have to start clear the hell over again. I even bought new garland and lights because I was thinking with last year's holiday brain.
"I can use these! It will be easy to find a place for them!"
That is until I remember that I have to figure out what I'm going to have to do with ALL of these lights. (I'm almost reaching Point Griswald, ok?) Lets not forget that this Old House doesn't have near the amount of plugins our old Old House had. So now I've got to manage to get all crafty with extension cords.
And just where the hell are my extension cords??
I think the little goblin who eats one sock out of each pair has also decided to eat all of my five hundred and eighty thousand extension cords. They are nowhere to be found.
Not a one of them.
And today we're going to put up the tree. I had decided that we were going to wait until the 20th to do so, but since I'm really not feeling very festive this year, I want to get it up and out of the way so I don't have to fuck with it that close to Christmas, when I'm sure I won't be feeling festive at all.
Now this leads to trying to decide how to safeguard the tree from the cats. Should I dig a moat and fill it with piranhas? Surround it with electric fence?
I bet neither of those ideas would work. My cats are pretty sly. So I guess it's just keep fingers crossed and hope for the best.
Is Christmas over yet?
I'm ready to tie one on for New Year's.