Just as I had parked my truck, I noticed the wind had taken a ladys receipt out her hand and started to blow it around the parking lot. She went running after it. The wind was not her friend. The wind swept the receipt to the right, then to the left, then to the left again, and then to the right, as she was scrambling after it. It was funny as hell. She could not catch that receipt. Everytime she almost had it in her hand, it would go the other way. I got out of my truck and thought maybe I should help her. By this time she was way down the parking lot, and another lady who had just come out of another store saw her dilemma and started chasing the receipt with her. They could not corner it. Every time they got close to it, it would go the other way. Fuck.it.was.funny. to see these ladies trying to corner a receipt. The receipt wasn't flat. It was one of those receipts that are all curled up, therefore making the wind playful. "Wind" had such a blast with these two...he played with them for about 5 minutes..I swear! And took them through his hoops.
So, to take my mind off the largest penis in the world cooking in my cockpot, I started my veggies, onions and mushrooms and baked potatoes at my regular time. Now I was hungry, and had no problems making supper. Except, I kept on looking at the "big guy," at one point in the afternoon, there was some white stuff (probably scum) staring out at me on the top of the roast. Lord.. you don't want to know where my mind went. I really think they should have a lid you can't see through, because I don't need to see what happens while they make a cockpot porno movie.
I'm an idiot..but you probably knew that
I read a lot of blogs during the week. Sometimes I get a little dyslexic. A lot of people use blogger, typepad, wordpress....whatever. Last month I found some blogs in a place called Dairy Land. (Stop laughing right now.) I thought it was so cool. Dairy Land. The land of butter and cows. I thought all the blogger citizens of "Dairy Land" lived in a huge gated Internet community surrounded by white fences and rolling hills.. with horses grazing and cattle mooing. A picturesque quaint blog site somewhere in Montana or wherever cattle graze in the USA.
When I started reading their blogs I never noticed anything different about them. Yes, they were not in the same format I was used to, but it was kind of hard getting around. Also, their templates were..hmmm a litttttle weird. But they were Dairy bloggers so I figured they had to use the templates Dairy land had to offer. I found some really good blogs in there. Nice people.
Last week, I was reading a blog, and the person said she was so happy to have a place like Dairy Land (I was still reading it that way) ..to be able to write a personal Diary. Ooops..the lights came on...Dairy, Diary....OMG. for shit's sake it was THEIR FRICKING DIARY. No cows, no nothing and they don't live in a gated white fenced cow infested Internet community!
It' sort of like ...when.. for years... you have been singing the wrong words to a song.
So, to all the people in Diary Land blogs I have commented on...I apologize.. I really thought ya'll lived on the farm.
But let's face it, I will miss Dairy Land. It just seemed so safe.
I bought two deep fried breaded chicken pieces at Safeway, and a small container of macaroni and cheese for my supper..halleluya...grease at last...grease at last. I still have some peas and carrots left over from last night, so I am going to pig right out. But, I don't think I will eat the breaded skin of the chicken, I will just squeeze the grease on my body so I can smell it the whole night long. Sometimes a girl needs a little oiling up.
I just finished mowing the back 40 with our newer lawn mower "Sane Jane." "Jake the Snake" was in the other shed, and I could hear him rumbling in there getting all pissed off. Now that Gord has got him all fixed up, he is feeling his oats...and thinks he's the man and has balls. He is mistaken. Jane has a vagina...a very big one that she uses as a bagger of de grass. How convenient. I mow, she sucks it up in her humongous vagina bag, and I dump it out. Simple. Jake used to just spit it out, even if we attached a ball bag. Macho bastard. I love Jane. Jake, you are one little piece of crap. What we haven't told you yet, is we put you up for sale, you sick bastard. You are in the "Buy and Sell" as of today. I can't wait. If you decide not to start the day we show you off to the new owner I will personally take you out. Just so you know.
I hope you have enjoyed reading about my supper going in my mouth and out my ass. It was a journey, and thanks so much for traveling down this road with me. What are friends for?
Nothing like a little Miracle Grow, to get you off your ass and into your mosquitoe infested garden. I swear after I drank a bottle of that along with a little sprig of mint, and splash of rain water, I turned into a giant gardener. And for some reason I starting singing..Hi Ho Hi Ho..it's off to work we go. And then I turned into a midget. Don't drink that shit. You never know. Read the label. I can hardly reach my keyboard.....Help...
I just yelled at a neighbour over the next street who was drilling concrete, that made my ears bleed. It was horrible...and he quit....One for me! I am getting better at nothing than anyone else.
This brings me to Saturday going to another "walk in" salon. My first impression was ...holy fuck...The receptionist had a row of bleached blonde curls from the crown of her head to her eyebrows...which was parted..neatly on each side with pitch black hair on each side. Not a bad look for a skunk. She was Russian and could hardly speak English...but being the receptionist she knew I was there to get my hair cut so we got around why the hell I was there.. As I was making the arrangements, she was frantically waiving to another lady in the back room (who was visible from the front door) and she said.... ..dis vill be yorm styeist from todayest I hope you likes her notz.
Tuesday at work I decided to sit on my leg/foot on my chair at work because it was stiff. I crammed it up in under my ass, and when that leg/foot went to sleep...I changed over to the other one. So, apparently the heels of my shoes bruised my nether regions. I will have to remember not to do that again. In a way, I kicked myself in the ass. How befitting.
I'm guessing in my hurry I turned off the radio, with the remote still in my hand while I was dispensing the lettuce in the crisper section of the fridge and dropped that bad boy in with it.
There, I told on myself.
I just can't believe how much he looks like Gord...from the rear at least..even the boots...and the shovel....the halo and wings....not so much.
Ahh Fuck the Russian. I'm over it.