Zoot: Hello All! Lil’ Zoot and I are here, in bed, trying to get ready to start our day.
LilZ: Hi Peoples.
Zoot: He’s a man of few words.
LilZ: That’s right, man. Girl. Chick. NO! Don’t write all of that!
Zoot: Evil Giggle What do you REALLY want to say to the people, LilZ.
LilZ: Um. That my mom’s pregnant? And she’s been pregnant? And I think it’s a boy because I’m a super doctor.
MR.Z: making a guest appearance at the other computer But it’s really a girl. And Cisco thinks its a hot weiner dog.
Zoot: I can assure you this baby is NOT a hot weiner dog. I’ve not been in a relationship with any Weiner Dogs in YEARS.
LilZ: We’re gonna make lots and lots of Cha-Ching at our Yard Sale today.
Zoot: As long as it stops raining.
MrZ: Burp, Grunt
LilZ: We have to get to work now – bye peoples.
Zoot: Pray that the rain clears up. We need the moolah.
You know how it is, with moving. There are cabinets and nooks and boxes of things that never get opened and never get used. YET – the SECOND you take THAT box of stuff to the new house, or clean out that ONE cabinet – then you suddenly need everything in it.
I took all of the medicines and first aid supplies to the new house. We rarely need that stuff, surely we can wait a few weeks to have them at our disposal. Plus, it’s something that can be put up BEFORE painting because we aren’t painting the inside of the bathroom cabinets.
Of course, this week, MrZ develops a cold/sinus infection and I get my leg sliced by one of our dogs while they were playing and using me as a fortress to hide behind. So MrZ is all stuffy with no medicines to take and I have a six inch gash on my shin that is gangrenous and painful and my leg will have to be amputated since I had no alcohol to clean it with.
We’re just a mess. Times twenty.
We’re also finding “uses” for things we haven’t touched in years, JUST BECAUSE it is NOW in the yard sale pile. LilZoot decided he wanted all of his rainbow stuffed animals he started collecting when he broke his arm in 2000. MrZ has decide the stereo he got me five years ago, which we haven’t gotten out of the closet in three years, is now EXACTLY what he needs for his “work area” in the garage. I’m looking at size 2 blue jeans I havent been able to fit into in two years and thinking “AFTER THE BABY! I SWEAR!”
Yep. We have succeeded in making the moving process as much of a pain in the ass as humanly possible. Would you like us to come help you when you move?
Okay. I’m beginning to think someone in my office is secretly experimenting with inducing obesity via various desserts left in the office kitchen.
First off – there is my boss who INSISTS on supporting Krispy Kreme fundraisers ALL THE TIME. Remember the five donuts I inhaled in ONE DAY last week? Yep, that was him helping some local charity, while I corrupted my “reasonable weight gain” goals.
Then there was the co-worker who brought in gourmet caramely-chocolatey-graham-crackery treats that took me a whole WEEK to finally eat all of. No one seemed to help me.
But the worst offender is my office manager. His wife makes the best dessert type treats on this PLANET. She makes them for various church and charity functions and ALWAYS has “some leftover.” MrZ and I were at their house one night and MrZ can attest to the goodness of her desserts as he ate TWO helpings of her faux eclairs.
Well this week? She made brownies that I SWEAR are some of the most delicious bits of goodness I’ve ever eaten. They are moist and chocolatey and yummy and OHMIGOD-I’VE EATEN FOUR OF THEM TODAY.
Isn’t there a LAW against how much culinary temptation can exist in an office before it is considered UNHEALTHY And therefore DANGEROUS and therefore WRONG TO TORTURE EMPLOYEES? Well, there should be.
Bah. I’m going to go eat another brownie.
Holy Moley, I’m overwhelmed right now.
The yard sale from hell is this Saturday (PRAY FOR SUN) and our house is COVERED in yard sale items. They are all boxed up because we have to carry them to the street because our apartment is not ON the street. There are also two clothing racks in my living room, along with four card tables – all for the yard sale. We havent even begun to price or make signs yet. AH!
Where there are not boxes and clothing racks for the yard sale, there are boxes to be moved to the house. The trick is, trying to keep them separated so that yard sale stuff does NOT get moved to the house. I would have postponed packing for the move until AFTER the yard sale, but since we’re selling a crap-load of furniture, I have to box up the stuff on or in the furniture before the yard sale.
I’m no where CLOSE to done with that yet.
MrZoot is going to use the time that we’re having the yard sale, to paint the main areas of the house. Of course, that was assuming I would have taped and put down plastic by now. Which I have not done. I need to do THAT before Saturday too.
All of this has allowed me to squeeze exactly ONE household chore in a day. And that has been cooking. So, the house is a mess, there are at LEAST five loads of laundry that need to be done, and we’re almost out of toothpaste.
Needless to say, if it rains on Saturday? I’ll be the girl they’re carting off in the straight jacket mumbling about moving and boxes and painting. At least they’ll take me to a place with boxes, right?
I love the city in Alabama I live in, but there are some aspects regarding the mentality of the state that politicians just, just PISSES ME OFF.
Republican Alabama lawmaker Gerald Allen says homosexuality is an unacceptable lifestyle. …under his bill, public school libraries could no longer buy new copies of plays or books by gay authors, or about gay characters
“I don’t look at it as censorship,” says State Representative Gerald Allen. “I look at it as protecting the hearts and souls and minds of our children.”
Listen, GERALD. Leave the concern of my son’s soul and mind to ME. I will decide what he can and can not read – NOT YOU. Back away from my parenting rights and allow my son and I to make decisions together as to what he should and should not be reading. And you know what? I am guessing that allowing him to read something by Tennessee Williams or Truman Capote (gay authors who would be banned) would do much less damage to his mind and soul than ten minutes alone in a room with you and your bullshit agenda. We are grown-ups. Allow us to parent our kids without YOU or ANYONE ELSE butting in where they don’t belong.