ammogirl

I love my husband to death–and you guys have to know I’d adore anyone who puts up with my wacky-ass crap. I really do.

However.

At this moment, he is rapturously watching footage from the last twenty games of Halo 3 he has played on his Xbox 360. He is doing this in between matches with his ‘clan’ or whatever they are, and they are all online and chatting via microphone.

I have never witnessed anything so defining of the word ‘dork’ in my life, seriously. Anyway, I have to go, because right now is my ‘treadmill time’. I have to work out at home this week because the base gym I frequent is shut down to get a new roof. There is another gym, but it’s at least a five minute drive from my work, which is too far. Also, since it is raining and cold here, and I have been doing my running on a treadmill, I figured I might as well use the shiny treadmill I have in my house, bought especially for rainy and cold weather. Also, I can watch dvds on it. I’m almost all the way through season 3 of The Office for the third time.

Speaking of dorks, and The Office, there was a first-ever Office Convention in Scranton PA this past weekend. I amazed myself at how depressed I was that I couldn’t go. To a specific tv show’s convention. Ridiculous, that. In a way…even worse than old video game movie footage.

But not really.

Tschuss!!

This morning when I was taking the very last gulp of Celestial Seasonings’ Peppermint out of my ginormous snowman cup, I saw something that looked suspiciously like a raspberry seed floating around. A raspberry seed with legs. Because I am loud, I said, loudly, “WTF?!” and tilted my cup for a really close look.

You guys, it was a fucking cockroach. At the BOTTOM of my cup.

Almost immediately I started gagging, because hi, I had DRANK a WHOLE CUP of COCKROACH TEA.

I…oh god. I can’t even write about it anymore without feeling my gorge rise. However, I just want to say that this? Is my payback for talking shit about my parents.

Dear High Lords of Karma, please don’t do that ever again.

Tschuss!!

I just realized that I managed to write not one, but two posts in a row about my horrible parents. This is sort of bad, because they aren’t really all that horrible. I mean, they’re sort of horrible, if you take into account my dad doesn’t like basil, or that my mom walks really, REALLY loudly. But if you can manage to overlook those things, they aren’t too bad, as parents go. I mean, they DO read this blog, which gets points.  And although I trash them thoroughly on these pages at least once a month, they know I do it with love, and never complain.  But see, I feel bad, because I really think they have re-imagined my childhood years in a completely different light, one that might seem…more in their favor, and I feel bad for bringing the truth the surface for them. Parents are people too, even if they did have strange rules, like…no drinking any liquid at all, EVER, while eating. Or sadistic family meetings. Or…feeding us cow tongue for dinner, which is never delicious, even covered in mayonnaise, and how come YOU NEVER ATE DINNER WITH US ON TONGUE NIGHT, MOM?

In the interest of full disclosure, however, it’s not as if I was a completely normal kid myself to begin with. For example. I loved Crisco. LOVED it. How I discovered this love, I have no clue…but any chance I could, I would creep into the kitchen and slowly open the silverware drawer, carefully pull out a spoon, silently get that big blue can out of the cupboard and dig in. Yes. Also, I drank oil. My parents would send me to the corner store for a bottle of Wesson for the candy store, and on the way back I’d drink it–not enough so that you could tell, but enough to really gross me out when I think about it now.

I had nightmares nearly every night when I was young and would sneak in my parent’s bed until I was at least ten.

I slept with my baby blanket, a grass green square of comfort, until I was 13. I called him Blankie and I still have him.

I loved tunafish and strawberry jam sandwiches.

I must have hated brushing my teeth and at one time had nearly all of my baby teeth totally capped in silver. Like that one bad guy in the James Bond movies.
I loved going to the dentist then, and I still love going to the dentist. I wish I could be one.

And one of my very favorite meals ever, and the one thing I always ask my mom to make for me when I come home, is liver. Yum.

See? I was weird even BEFORE my parents unorthodox ways! My parents are great! Hi parents, I think you’re great!
Also, that thing with my teeth? That was THEN. My teeth NOW are fabulous.

Tschuss!!