Okay. So, I had a rather disturbing dream last night.
It started out as me driving aimlessly around the parking lot at the Italian Center. At first, I thought i was invited to go swimming but then it switched to me meeting Stew at some fancy French restaurant he was taking me to for our anniversary. Don't ask me why a French place was at the Italian Center. When we got inside, I was bit disappointed to find out that this overrated, overpriced fancy French place was full of obnoxious snooty drunks. And not the kind who are wine snobs but the kind you see in a bar and feel sorry for except they had a lot of money to spend.
I was trying to enjoy my meal when these two guys decided that they were going to wander over and sit at our table and talk to each other loudly. One was a midget. Suddenly the midget started taking these potato chips (but of course in a fancy French place they were called fried au' gratin or something like that) and throwing them all over the table. I said, "excuse me, sir, but this is our anniversary, could you stop doing that and go to another table so we can enjoy our meal." He refused and that REALLY pissed me off. So, I grabbed the midget, smacked him around, shook him and then dragged him down the hill to a house where the staff hung out and I was sure to find a manager. There was a waitress down there and i threw the now beat up and unconscious midget down on the floor and asked to speak to the manager. The waitress said she would go find him. She came back after what seemed like an eternity and offered me some chocolate covered biscotti to take home with me and said she was still looking for the manager. She disappeared for what felt like hours. Every once and a while, the midget would wake up and I would kick him.
Oh relax, it wasn't like he was bleeding and unconscious. He was so blitzed he had no clue what was happening. A lot of the time he appeared to be sleeping with a huge smile on his face.
I looked up the hill and saw Stew sitting at the table with what appeared to be steaming plates of our dinner. He was waiting for me to get back before he dug in. I didn't want the food to get cold so I grabbed the midget and dragged him back up the hill. When i got back to our table, the manager was there with these two huge brandy snifters full of creamy custard (I hate custard) sprinkled with cinnamon and chocolate. It looked like Taramisu. Don't ask me why everything about this French restaurant was Italian. The manager said the desert was on the house because of our troubles. I told him our whole dinner would be on the house and that i simply hate custard.
Then, I woke up
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Down with the sickness
Can I be frank?
What about Sally?
What about just plain gross but straight up honest with you?
So, every Sunday (well, pretty much every Sunday) for the last few months I have been getting a wicked case of ..... what my college roommates and I used to call, The squitters. It only happens on Sunday and it's sort of a relief because I'm pretty much bound up Friday and Saturday. The only really bad about my new Sunday movements is they can happen at any time leaving me to do what I hate the most and use a public toilet. But, lately, we've been lazy and at home so I have been able to come and go as I please. This Sunday, I was put in a pretty difficult situation.
At noon, The Hubs and I were heading over to his condo to hold an open house of sorts because his tenant is moving out and like any good landlord, we want new tenants ASAP. I had a bagel for breakfast, which caused a dramatic drop in my blood sugar about 10 minutes before we left. Knowing I needed some protein, I grabbed a protein bar, but a heavier one that I have not been able to stomach lately. I ate it slowly but apparetly not slow enough because on our way to the condo, I started to feel sick. Not stomach sick, just out of sorts. The fisrt appointment came and left and we waited for the next appointment. I was on my cell phone chatting with my friend when my stomach started to runble that familiar rumble and I clenched my sides. I told The Hubs, I had to go but didn't want to stink up the joint before the next perspective renters came. He shugged his shoulders.
"Maybe it's just gas," I said to him as I made my way to the loo.
It wasn't.
I flushed fast so that it didn't have time to smell. But, it wasn't all going down. And before anyone can say lincoln logs, let me just tell you there was NO WAY this couldn't go down. It may as well have been number 1 with some lumps. I flushed again, and again an again. Now, just the lumps were left. I called for The Hubs with about 5 minutes to spare before the next appointment showed up. I stepped back almost falling into the tub and almost taking the shower curtain with me. "Get outta here" he said shooing me to the living room. I went and sat down, my stomach still grumbling and my butt cheeks clenching together all of this made harder because I was still on the phone with my friends and we were both trying not to laugh too hard.
The Hubs comes out and says he got everything to go down but he should probably call the plumber and wonders why his tenants never told him about the lack of flush power. And something has been lost of the years. When I was just dating The Hubs, that toilet had the jet stream flush power of Shea Stadium.
Cramping again. I tell The Hubs the storm has not passed. He hads me his car keys and tells me to go home. I hate driving his car. But, I hate crapping my pants even more. However, I know there is NO WAY I will make it home. As I am hesitating taking his keys, his cell rings and the appointment is here. I walk outside with him to meet her. She is with her friend and they both look like they could have taken the place of Paris and Nicole on the Simple Life.
Okay, so do I leave my husband alone with two cute blonds or do I mark my territory by letting poop run down my leg? I decide there is no time like the present to run across Summer Street with my butt clenched together to Starbucks. Thankfully, the bathroom there is free, clean and the toilet flushes. Apparently I took so long The Hubs came looking for me but didn't see me because I was too busy convulsing.
What about Sally?
What about just plain gross but straight up honest with you?
So, every Sunday (well, pretty much every Sunday) for the last few months I have been getting a wicked case of ..... what my college roommates and I used to call, The squitters. It only happens on Sunday and it's sort of a relief because I'm pretty much bound up Friday and Saturday. The only really bad about my new Sunday movements is they can happen at any time leaving me to do what I hate the most and use a public toilet. But, lately, we've been lazy and at home so I have been able to come and go as I please. This Sunday, I was put in a pretty difficult situation.
At noon, The Hubs and I were heading over to his condo to hold an open house of sorts because his tenant is moving out and like any good landlord, we want new tenants ASAP. I had a bagel for breakfast, which caused a dramatic drop in my blood sugar about 10 minutes before we left. Knowing I needed some protein, I grabbed a protein bar, but a heavier one that I have not been able to stomach lately. I ate it slowly but apparetly not slow enough because on our way to the condo, I started to feel sick. Not stomach sick, just out of sorts. The fisrt appointment came and left and we waited for the next appointment. I was on my cell phone chatting with my friend when my stomach started to runble that familiar rumble and I clenched my sides. I told The Hubs, I had to go but didn't want to stink up the joint before the next perspective renters came. He shugged his shoulders.
"Maybe it's just gas," I said to him as I made my way to the loo.
It wasn't.
I flushed fast so that it didn't have time to smell. But, it wasn't all going down. And before anyone can say lincoln logs, let me just tell you there was NO WAY this couldn't go down. It may as well have been number 1 with some lumps. I flushed again, and again an again. Now, just the lumps were left. I called for The Hubs with about 5 minutes to spare before the next appointment showed up. I stepped back almost falling into the tub and almost taking the shower curtain with me. "Get outta here" he said shooing me to the living room. I went and sat down, my stomach still grumbling and my butt cheeks clenching together all of this made harder because I was still on the phone with my friends and we were both trying not to laugh too hard.
The Hubs comes out and says he got everything to go down but he should probably call the plumber and wonders why his tenants never told him about the lack of flush power. And something has been lost of the years. When I was just dating The Hubs, that toilet had the jet stream flush power of Shea Stadium.
Cramping again. I tell The Hubs the storm has not passed. He hads me his car keys and tells me to go home. I hate driving his car. But, I hate crapping my pants even more. However, I know there is NO WAY I will make it home. As I am hesitating taking his keys, his cell rings and the appointment is here. I walk outside with him to meet her. She is with her friend and they both look like they could have taken the place of Paris and Nicole on the Simple Life.
Okay, so do I leave my husband alone with two cute blonds or do I mark my territory by letting poop run down my leg? I decide there is no time like the present to run across Summer Street with my butt clenched together to Starbucks. Thankfully, the bathroom there is free, clean and the toilet flushes. Apparently I took so long The Hubs came looking for me but didn't see me because I was too busy convulsing.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Sunnova Bee
Wouldn't you know it that now every Sim I have that I allow to procreate ends up with TWINS!!!!
I am so doomed.
I am so doomed.
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