LADY-LIKE

Man Friend: (Belch)

Man Friend's Dad: "Contrary to what you might think, ladies do NOT like those sort of gutteral noises."

Me: "Awwwww. You're dad thinks I'm a lady."

MORE INCONVENIENT THAN IRONIC, TO BE PERFECTLY HONEST

Sooooooo..... funny thing.

I got a job. In Mason. So I will be moving BACK to Cincinnati.

I realize I JUST. MOVED. AWAY. not more than a week ago but this offer came after that happened and it's too tempting to resist while I'm searching for that "IT" job in Columbus.

Another funny thing.

The gentleman who WAS going to be taking my room at the coolest college house on earth? He may be backing out because of a recent injury (long story) so I'm pretty much moving right back into the house I just moved out of.. sans nearly all the things we moved out. I'm going to be sleeping on an air mattress and living out of a suitcase. Just like co-op. With a much better payday.

Woo.

DID NOT

"You knew from the start Jaymes was going to be lazy."

"How do you figure?"

"She was born 21 days late."

"You were born late, too."

"Yeah, but she came more than a week later than I did, and not even willingly. You guys had to cut her out."

"But she came out and then went right to sleep. The doctor slapped you and you stopped crying 12 years later."

SENSE AND SENSIBILITY

"You are just SO damn charitable."

"I'm selfless, really."

"Ish, Jaymes. You're selfish."

"I hate you."

AT FIRST I THOUGHT I BROKE IT

For those of you who don't know, as you walk down the stairs of my house there is a ledge. For the longest time, we kept art there, namely a sign that said "way of love" with an arrow that pointed at a Picasso butt. It was hot.

Alas, there is no longer any artwork on this 4 inch ledge, but there is now a hunk of my skin. As I was walking down the stairs carrying 4 drawers off to my right side so I could actually see where I was going rather than risking falling down the stairs, I managed to BASH THE HOLY EFFING SHIT out of my pinky finger, catching it right at the knuckle between the wooden drawers and the equally wooden ledge.

It's been a long time since I've needed to put ice on something. I iced that finger and whimpered and ended up with this pathetic little excuse for a bruise that makes me tear up when I touch it. And the logical thing to say here would be.. well, then stop touching it. But if I stop touching it then it stops hurting and just feels weird instead which probably is a better scenerio but I fear I'll lose your pity if it doesn't hurt sufficiently.

Uhhh! It hurts!

AS WE WERE DRIVING AROUND LOOKING AT CHRISTMAS LIGHTS

"I hate. Hate. HATE. those freaking blowup Christmas decorations. They are the spawn of Satan. PUT UP SOME DAMN LIGHTS YOU FAT AMERICAN!!"

"Well, we don't have to have them at our house."

"Oh! We WILL NOT have them at our house."

"Well, how about a blowup Brutus?"

"..."

"What?! Just from Friday night to Sunday morning."

"Oh, HELL NO."

"How about just during game day?"

"Absolutely not."

"Uhhh! But the team stuff was around FIRST. You would have liked it before the Christmas stuff got popular." (Note the whiney quality here)

"... No, I wouldn't."

"What if we call it an inflatable team mascot rather than a blowup doll?"

"NO. You can, however, decorate the rec room all you like with OSU stuff."

"That's right I can. AND I can decorate wherever else I want!"

"..."

"With your permission."

WHEN THE JOKE GOES TOO FAR

(Some radio commercial for a jewelry store advertising its selection of diamond solitaires.)

"Pssshh! Solitaires." (note the tone of distain)

"Hah! I do believe when the time comes the word 'petite' WILL be tossed around."

"That's what you think." (note the LOOK of distain)

IN TRANSITION

Hi kids. The next couple of days are going to be a bit busy for me since I am interviewing and officially moving the hell out so I may or may not post.

I'll keep you posted. (HAH! See how funny I can be?! No? Damn.)

PROCRASTINATION FOR A GOOD CAUSE

Go nuts.

KILLING A DREAM

Not my dream, mind you, but rather Danny's. I found out through intensive and exhaustive research that Chuck Norris? His real name? Carlos Ray. Doesn't that just kill it for you? The national identity of asskickerness is named Carlos. Does this look like the face of a Carlos to you? HAH! Just kidding. I meant this one.

OH COME ON! You can trust me this time. Click the link. I promise it isn't Hoff in his underpants this time.

Would a Carlos pose like that? I think not.

So where did I find this out? You're going to make fun of me when I tell you but my excuse is I use it to find names for my short stories.

Baby Name Database.

That's right. Scroll down to 'N'. He's at the bottom.

Yup. It's true. I was there.

FOUND IMAGE (Thanks, Jenny!)

Holy God am I hot.

I laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed when I saw this picture. I must think I'm way cooler than I actually am.

(I'm eating cereal at Cereality in Chicago on Dannyfest 2005: Ladyfest aka TEAM AWESOME. It was a might tasty AND it contained espresso. Hellz yes.)

BUT DANNY PEES IN THE SHOWER*

*It makes him happy when he is sad... and there is also a special way to do it to ensure it gets everywhere. Ask me. I would be more than happy to show you.


Man Friend: "Okay well I'm going to go inside now and stop freezing my balls off."

Me: "You could get online and talk to me."

Man Friend: "I know and I will later after I eat and pee and take a dump and take a shower. Though I guess I could do two of those at the same time."

Me: "Pee and take a shower?"

Man Friend: "Um, no. Pee and take a dump. Wow, I wish I controlled your blog so I could write about this."

Me: "Not necessary. I'll do it."

POSSIBLE CONCUSSION NO. 5?

I'm no longer allowed to drink when I have a cold. I had TWO (Killians and a mudslide) and it just affected me in weird ways and harder than it usually does. Let me explain.

Man Friend and I went down to Columbus on Friday night to meet up with some of his friends at GameWorks. Neither of us had ever been there? (not actually positive on that point) and we managed to arrive BEFORE everyone else even thought we got there an HOUR after they said they wanted to leave for the place and they all actually reside IN Columbus. To kill the time and because we could, we ended up playing some racing games, including one that you had to lay down on and it made your whole body vibrate. I won at that game. No comment on why.

The first of the dumb things to happen (which was actually overshadowed by the second) was Man Friend ventured off to do something so while I was alone I decided to play a Star Wars aircraft-of-some-sort-shoot-at-the-enemy-these-controls-are-REALLY-touchy game. I don't know how well I did at this game or if I got too terribly far but the last level I did play was hard and I was concentrating on the screen and just after the GAME OVER printed it self on the screen Man Friend yelled "boo" right behind my head. To say that I am easy to startle is an understatement but usually, in public situations, I have just barely enough control that I don't scream in terror outright. But normally, in public situations, I haven't been drinking with a cold.

I screamed. Loudly. Man Friend all but collasped in a fit of giggles (YES, YOU DO GIGGLE. Manly chuckle my ass).

The second of the two events I arguably did to myself. Man Friend was holding my hand and we were walking toward some game he wanted to play and I was concentrating hardcore on some picture taker contraption off to my right. I felt Man Friend's fingers slide from mine. Right before I felt the hard, cold smack of the gray metal pole colliding with my face.

I didn't hit ANY OTHER PART OF MY BODY. My FACE took the brunt force of it all.

Man Friend did good about stiffling the initial giggle and finding out if I was okay and l didn't hit it hard enough to bruise. I can't decide if that is fortunate or unfortunate yet because I could have had some fun explaining that bruise to people. But I don't bruise easily and probably would have had to hit it hard enough to cause a fracture to get anything worth talking about. Instead, now I just get to tell you all I was dumb and tipsy and I walked into a pole. But my face broke the fall.

LIFE WITH ROOMMATES, PART 5

"Oh my God, Katie you fell over... WHERE THE HELL ARE YOUR PANTS?!"

I USED TO LOVE HER, BUT I HAD TO KILL HER

I think Man Friend is secretly repressing urges to kill me. He keeps having dreams about me that involve me in danger or some resemblance of pain. The first time I thought it was cute, almost charming, how worried he was but after the second attempt on my life, albeit in dream form, I'm beginning to question.

I can only hope he's smart enough to take out a life insurance policy on me first.

Now, I know most people aren't really interesting in the dreams of others because they rarely make sense and are often just utterly ridiculous but THESE dreams are about me and what the hell else am I doing blogging other than talking about myself? Honestly.

The first of these dreams occurred some weeks ago, maybe two, and I was actually present for this one. I was laying next to Man Friend, perfectly content in my own dreams when he woke me up by pulling me into a hug. Don't get me wrong. I like me some hugs but not if they require me waking up to receive them.

Then he whispered into my ear, "are you okay?"

This was not the "are you okay?" that actually translates to, "you're not mad at me, are you?" or the, "damnit woman, will you stop fidgeting?" He was scared.

"I'm fine. Why?"

He proceeds to tell me he just had a dream in which I was beaten up and he couldn't do anything to help me.

"Awww. That's cute. I'm fine. Can I go back to sleep now?"

The latest dream involved me witnessing a mob murder. He was trying to hide me in his parents basement because the mob was trying to kill me. Some of his buddies, particularly guys he goes shooting with, were defending the fort and one of them noticed someone moving outside. Thinking it was a mob guy here to kill me, the friend shot the intruder... only to find out it was my dad.

"You killed my dad?!"

"I didn't do it! Zayne shot him."

"So you had my dad killed?"

"No!"

"Yes, you did! Why don't you like my dad?"

"Please don't tell you dad about this. It probably wouldn't be good for family relations."

GRAB ME A BEER WHILE YOU'RE UP?

"I can't wait until we live close enough together so that you can cook for me."

"..."

"What?"

"I'M the sick one and you want ME to cook for YOU?"

"Well, you wouldn't be sick."

"I can just see you now. Getting home. Lying in bed beside me. Poking me until I got up to make you dinner. 'Woman, make me a steak.'"

"I was thinking more a grilled cheese sandwich."

I WANT A HIPPOPOTAMUS FOR CHRISTMAS

But in lue of that, this might suffice.

Man Friend and I have a running joke (to be honest I'm not so sure how much of a joke it is) that when he wins the lottery he is going to buy me a pony. And a 4-wheeler. And an alpaca farm.

But, rather than waiting for something that WILL NOT happen (seeing how he doesn't actually BUY lottery tickets), I thought, for Christmas, I'd get him started early. Introducing Butterscotch. Check out those product details. Particularly the last one. That ALONE is enough reason to buy this toy.


Why I'm glad Dad never got me that pony.

COOKIE MONSTER

Man Friend has what you could consider a skewed sense of vengence and I'll tell you why.

I made Man Friend cookies this weekend. Snickerdoodles to be exact. And they were damn good. To prove to everyone present just how good they were I offered a cookie each to Man Friend's mom and dad and then thought nothing of leaving the container on the counter while Man Friend and I went to Columbus to see the Loyal Divide play at some bar. I mean, we're all adults here. I should be able to leave Man Friend's cookies and have a reasonable expectation that something more than crumbs would be left.

Alas.

We got home late (2ish) and I walked into the kitchen and noticed a severe lack of cookies. I informed Man Friend of his lost goodies.

Man Friend was not pleased. (I told you they were damn good cookies.) He woke his father just to yell at him.

The next morning, I woke up to three notes from his father DEMANDING more cookies. When it was suggested the he wasn't getting any more cookies until the following weekend and only then if he would be nice enough to share he suggested I spend my Thanksgiving making him more cookies. Man Friend suggested I add too much salt to them, right after he finished tearing up his Dad's bed and rolling the sheets into a ball. Then, after his mother made some not so good store bought cookies (some of which tragically ended up burned because no one told me I was supposed to be watching them), Man Friend and I ate all the not burned ones sans one which he then fed to the dog. In front of his father.

I asked his dad why he couldn't have saved Man Friend at least one of the cookies I made FOR Man Friend and he said he had left one but he just couldn't sleep knowing that cookie was left there in the kitchen. Taunting him. Taunting. A cookie.

JUST END ALREADY

I have no interest in entering the world of academia today.

Or tomorrow for that matter.

QUICKIE

I gotst stuff to do tonight so I can't regale you all with stories of Thanksgivingness so this is going to have to do for now:

"I don't want any more of your lovin'. It's dirty and it hurts and it offends my morals."



BING!