Wednesday, July 19, 2006

causing a commotion

Now THAT'S the husband I know and love...when Mr. G found out that I ordered
my ring, he said--with an incredibly sick look on his face--"you really ordered one?!"
I'm like, "You SAID I could!" and he replied with a weak, "well, yeah, but..."
Every time the phone rang today and I said, "Who was that?" he answered, "They called to say
your ring order has been cancelled." Awwww. All is well in my world.

I was at work yesterday and my boss got pissed off about something the person
in the adjacent property was doing and she said, "I'm going to call the police!"
She was within her rights, but it was INCREDIBLY HOT AND HUMID here yesterday.
Translation: I was sweating like an Israeli in Lebanon.
I thought, "I have one of two options: 1. I can allow my boss to call the police, knowing that if she does there is a 99.9999999% chance the officer they send will be a good looking hunka hunka burning love. OR 2. I can talk her out of this stupidity." I chose option numero dos.
I said, "You don't want to do that. Think of all the hard feelings it will cause."
Think of me having to meet the cop at the door looking all sweaty and yucky.
At least wait till I'm cool and collected. Wearing a nice dress and some lipstick maybe. I forgot my damn lipstick, for God's sake!!

She listened to me. For now.
After all there is nothing more pathetic than a grown woman uttering, "Please, God, let them
send an old and ugly cop" over and over for twenty minutes,
knowing full well there are no old and ulgy cops on the city's pd. Besides, we know God's busy with that whole Barry Bonds thing.

My gf called me last night upset about something her grown daughter did.
She said, "I was so upset I ate an entire can of fruit cocktail."
Fruit fucking cocktail.
I said, "Look. When you find that you've eaten two bags of Oreo Double Stuffs,
that have been mixed into a half gallon of chocolate ice cream, covered in hot fudge,
and melted down in the microwave into a delicious shake, which you drank while eating
chocolate cake, call me. We'll talk. As it stands, I got nothing to say to you. Begone Slim Fast whore!"
I don't want to hear anything about freaking fruit cocktail.

I'm kinda ticked that guys don't have to deal with the same sort of bullshit in commercials that women do.
I want to see some guys sitting around at a party talking about testicular cancer
and how they want to tell their friends to check their balls every day.
Or is checking your balls every day something you guys just NATURALLY do?

And if I hear one more goodie goodie say, "It takes a village to raise a child," I'm sending them 15 offspring.

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