Bee's Musings

Passive aggressiveness is the new assh*le.

seriouslywhogivesacrap@gmail.com (Bee's Dark Side) — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 18:08:00 +0000

I don’t know what it is about people lately but they are acting like insulted housewives! Oops. Was that not PC?

You know how some wives, I know not all of them so save the hate mail, will be mad at their husbands but they don’t tell them why so they resort to the “if you don’t know why I’m upset, I’m not telling you!”? I’ve never understood this behavior since I pretty much always tell Andy exactly why I’m pissed off. I let him know in great detail which of his actions have infuriated me. I even make a little graph so that there are absolutely no misunderstandings. I don’t walk around the house sulking and waiting for him to get a clue.

Anyway, this isn’t about Andy THIS TIME.

I’m getting my fill this week with people making it known they’re mad at me but not having the balls to tell me why. Did I not ask you if you needed to go to the bathroom enough times? Did I say good morning too sharply? Did I insult you when I asked you to double check something because you’ve been known to fuck up on more than one occasion? Was it the fact that I did not want to answer anymore questions on the bracelet you found that must have been sitting in the storage area since 1978 making it impossible to be mine because at that time I was 6 and my mom wouldn’t let me cross the street by myself much less come to a different state, sneak into a medical building and unlock a storage space with my pinkie nails. Yes I know the writing on the bracelet is in “”MEXICAN”” and I don't know if those dried flowers inside are indigenous to Mexico because honestly, I’m pretty sure there are more than one of us who roam the earth.

Let me tell you something, and by ‘you’ I don’t mean YOU, unless you’re pissing me off too, it’s not ME it’s YOU. Can you please shut the fuck up and/or kiss my ass? Thanks.

Phew! That felt great! I’m still trying to figure out the right combination of meds that will keep my head from exploding but this rant did wonders!

Oh and P.S.
Don’t feel bad for Andy because he has a crazy wife. I tell him everyday how lucky he is not to have a high maintenance wife. He is 98% free to do whatever he wants whenever he wants without having to ask my permission. Ever.

The other 2% he spends by taking me to a movie every once in a while.*

How's that for passive aggressive?

If she bends over, you'll know what year she was born. Also, see a duck mooning the crowd.

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 03:55:00 +0000

We went to the Laundromat again on Monday. I think we all know how much I detest that place. Every time we go, something happens that infuriates me!

This time it was a stupid washer that didn’t let me select any other cycle other than ‘woolens’. Normally I would have just taken my clothes out and found one that had its entire workable buttons but the ones that weren’t being used, had little out of orders signs. I decided to just leave it there, what could go wrong?

Well, it turns out that the soap compartment wasn’t working properly and so my clothes received the same cleaning my uncle Ricardo gave himself when he was 10 and he pretended to shower by wetting the top of his head but not bothering to remove the dirt stains from his face.

The options were to rewash them which would mean spending more time in the demon’s armpit or just dry them and call it a day. My uncle Ricardo would be proud.

Next up, a lady set her basket on my table. Some of you may remember the near nervous breakdown that caused the last time. This time I remained calm (as calm as a teeny tiny raft on a raging river), cool (as cool as a walrus in a sauna) and collected (as collected as the hippo stamp)(I don’t know what that means either but I couldn’t come up with anything anti-collected). I decided not to say anything until it was time for me to use the table. When her husband went to move the basket without me having to say anything, I heard her say “leave the basket there”

It. Was. ON!

Unfortunately, she left the L’mat (that's what we cool non washer having people call it) to have dinner while her clothes were in the wash so she didn’t see me grab her basket and throw it on a washer. I told Andy “Don’t worry babe. If she comes in here and says something, I’ll take her outside!” but my Andy, being the kind hearted person he is said “uh Bee? She and her husband are both bigger than we are…” so I told my man he could wait in the car while I took care of them both.

I really thought she'd say something when she came back because she was also a Latina and I know I would have said something but she didn’t. She must be one of those higher plane people with normal blood pressure I keep hearing about.

Things at work are a little better since OZ is on vacation yet again. Boy, the economy hasn’t hit that dude one bit! Anyway, he still has peculiar requests when he calls. His most recent one was odd even for him. He wants me to Google ‘why we should send a refund to an insurance company’. When I asked if I may just CALL the insurance company themselves and ask them directly why they’re requesting the refund:

“No! JUST GOOGLE IT! I want a full report when I come back on Monday!”

Um okay? While I have my googler out I will also ask “why does my boss think google is a magic 8 ball?”

That man cracks me up. He cracks me up like a baseball bat to the head cracks me up.

We took my mom and Natalia to the Botanic Gardens on Sunday and while Natalia, my mom and Andy tanned, the sun left its mark on my scalp, chest, arms and feet the way a soccer ball did to my thighs when I tried to stop a goal (what a fun memory! The imprint of a half moon on each thigh was an awesome thing to explain to people). I remember being able to tan just by standing near a window now I have to cover up like I’m 106.

I love going to the gardens. I was happy to see that a lot of the plants/flowers they planted are the same ones I’m trying to encourage to grow in my garden. Sadly, mine got too much water earlier this year so they’re struggling but I’m hoping they come back healthier next year.

Of course, plants aren’t the only things you see at the botanic gardens.

There was also a woman in a sheer maxi-mini dress in 5 inch platform stripper shoes. I didn’t take a picture of her, even though I could have, because I worry about the content I put on this here blog. I certainly do not want to corrupt/offend anyone with delicate sensibilities so instead I drew a picture of her.

censored for your protection.

Yeah I know! Ewwwww!

So anyway, later alligators.

Out of context

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Tue, 14 Jul 2009 03:26:00 +0000

“I think I just parked over a chicken bone”

“ Bee: I can smell through my mouth.

Andy: YOU should donate your body to science! ”

“Two-ply don’t bother me. Two-ply don’t bother me”

“The sun is blinding me so right now I'm just driving by memory of the road.”

“Nutter butter sounds like another name for Fromunda cheese”

“I wonder how big her hole is”

“I seriously doubt all the letters make an appearance in alphabet soup”

“My head isn’t a toy, Andy!”

“That lady looks like an orange”

“My need for crushing heads is equal to your need for correcting me.”

“Well then I guess I’ll have to type while dripping mango juice!”

“Bah! One potato won’t kill me! It would take at least 10 to take me down!”

“Yes. Yes. She is tall and skinny but wearing only a tank top and stripper shoes benefits nobody, right Andy? Andy? ANDY!!”

“When a wife beats up her husband because of *errant eyes* nobody wins. Except maybe the wife because she gets that nice afterglow.”

Okay, those last two were not so much out of context as they were telling a true tale of jealousy and mayhem.

be back tomorrow with a *real* post.

"Bee n' Andy: Married and sometimes, still in love..."- Last resort babysitters.

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Sun, 12 Jul 2009 05:00:00 +0000

TO BE CONTINUED!

♪♫ TAHN -TAHN -TAHN! ♪♫

Thanks to Meleah Rebeccah for making me aware of the cool Comic program that is making posting our Sunday Funnies so much easier!

How you doin'? + How well do you know me?

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 12:05:00 +0000

Okay you guys, I'm kind of crabby today because Tazz woke me up at 5:45 which means I only got 5 hours of sleep, I have my 1,000th doctor's appointment this year this morning (and I'm tired of them!), it's rainy and soggy outside, my plants/flowers have mold because of all of the rain, I burned my eggos, I can't have coffee until after the doc appointment (blood pressure readings are still too high but I'll be damned if I give up my coffee), I have 13 zillion mosquito bites and only 2 hands to scratch them with, Andy won't stop with the baby talk when he talks to Mocha (what is he doing up anyway? It's too early!)(did I mention no coffee?), ETCETERA!

To cheer myself up, I am posting this "How well do you know Bee" quiz I had posted on facebook. Please leave your answers in the comments. I also know it's Saturday and very few people are sitting at home on their computers this weekend so I don't expect too many people to take the quiz but I hope those that stop by give it a try. I don't think a single person will get 100%. Not even Andy. Which, by the way, is asking me too many questions too early in the morning! "What are you typing, Bee?" "Did you take the dogs out, Bee?" "What time are we leaving, Bee?" "Blah blah blah blah, Bee?" "Why are you being so moody, Bee?"

I don't care how much my blood pressure rises, I am not giving up coffee OR Andy! We look like vampires.(don't ask)

1)
What color suits me best?

a)
Red

b)
Doomsday Black

c)
Multicolored Polka Dots

d)
Orange Sherbert

e)
Green limekini

2)
What time am I usually in bed by?

a)
Too late midnight

b)
Andy the warden 10:30

c)
Old lady 9pm

d)
I don't sleep

e)
Purple

3)
What am I scared of?

a)
My boss (yeah, right!)

b)
The bats I work with (nope)

c)
Babies with guns

d)
Homer Simpson

e)
The color pink

4)
My favorite drink is ________.

a)
Blood

b)
The color purple

c)
Ice cream

d)
poodles

e)
Vanilla coke

5)
Who is my favorite Disney character?

a)
Grumpy

b)
Stumpy

c)
Ben dover

d)
Sugar

e)
Cinderella

Well shiver me timbers and blow me down! (That Popeye was such a perv!)

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 03:21:00 +0000

Sometimes things happen that make you wonder how you'll be able to find an ounce of humor in that specific situation.

You sit at your desk and you cock your head to the side thinking “well, maybe this is one of those ‘life lessons everyone is always blathering on about” then you shift in your chair because the slight unevenness of the floor is making you lopsided and you really need to brood over the recent events. Being distracted by one butt cheek being higher than the other is unacceptable.

After you adjust your sitting position and have a sip of your water, which is now lukewarm because you were too distracted to drink it before, you go back to wondering about life’s injustices.

“Maybe I did something horrible and Karma wanted me to repent for my behavior towards my fellow men/women?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have added those few drops of dish washing soap in the office toilet bowl just to see what fun would ensue?” (All I have to say is BWAHAHAHAHA!!!)

“Maybe I should take Milton seriously when she tells me she tip-toes throw muddy spots when she’s walking to work so as not to create back-splash that will ruin her pants, you know, instead of laughing my ass off?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have sent a picture of someone I know to my friends and family saying ‘If Pedro from Napoleon Dynamite and Napoleon’s uncle had a baby he would look just like this guy!’?”

“Maybe I should have let my Andy have that last slice of pizza?”

As these things are forming tiny thought bubbles over your head, you realize you have to shift again because the chair has rolled ever so slightly to the divot on the left.

You sadly re-examine your life and wonder if it is finally time for you to change your ways. Yep. Karma is telling you that you must look within/into/onto/over yourself because your evil ways will no longer be tolerated and you will suffer all sorts of repercussions for your actions!

After all, what other rational explanation could there be for your mom having an iPhone before you do?

(That contraption is a tortilla maker because my mom rocks!)

And to top it off, you call your spouse and give him the opportunity to be a part of your one person pity party and instead he... or SHE asks how much money you have saved from your allowance to buy your own and when you say $60 they laugh in your ear and suggest you look into toe waxing as a part time job then bites your head off because you’re bothering him eh or HER at work. Granted you’ve done the same to him-her but it’s cute when you do it. His refusal to provide at least an ounce of sympathy has you planning how to best hurt him er, you know, HER when they get home. Then you stop your thoughts in their tracks because you realize this is how your bad karma begins! So really it’s not your fault because there is obviously no way you can control people provoking you into being bad.

Damn you karma and your tunnel vision!!

... ... What were we talking about?

Anyway, here are a couple of pictures of my hair. The pictures do not do the color justice.

Please excuse my puffy face. It was early in the morning, salt, water retention, hangover, you know.

The color this time around is more burgundy than red which is awesome!

This weekend, I learned my family thinks I'm mentally incapable of doing things on my own and also, nuns can seem to sense the evil in me. Nuns and babies.

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 03:35:00 +0000

Last Friday I went to the same stylist who gave me the red highlights last year and had him do them again. This time I went alone since Crazy Ez had gone the day before. I didn’t remember exactly where the place was but the directions didn’t look too complicated so I embarked on my voyage with a falalala in my heart and mapquest on my lap.

The day before my adventure, my mom had said she would come with me, when I told her the process took 3-4 hours she gulped and hesitated. I told her she didn’t have to come with and then she said she didn’t feel right letting me go by myself.

Me:
Uh, mom? I am 36 years old. In the eyes of the law, I can venture out without an adult.

Mom:
I know but I’d feel guilty not knowing if you were okay.

Me:
You and Nancy travel all over the place by yourselves! Why is it a big deal for me to go somewhere on my own?

Mom:
I don’t know, it just is.

Then Andy.

Andy:
Your mom isn’t going with you? You are going alone? BY YOURSELF?

Bee:
Cheese n crackers people! I was walking home from work alone, late at night, in the mean streets of Chicago before any of you even knew what danger was! Driving to a suburb in broad freakin daylight should not be a problem!

Apparently my family gets nervous when I'm left to my own devices. They had me feeling like the mentally ill family member who can't be trusted with scissors because I would probably find a trampoline and jump around until I stabbed my neck. That is insulting beyond description. Sure it took me about ten loop-dee-loops to find the place and I kept passing it up but at least I got there! It was kinda funny because I had my sister and Big Tex on the phone looking up my location and I decided to pull into a strip mall to wait for further instructions when I noticed the big sign for the Beauty Shop. I stumbled upon the joint all accidental-like.

My hair looks awesome by the way.

That same day, over dinner, my mom shared another missing puzzle piece.

When I was 15 and UNRULY (according to my mom but I think she just needed to have a beer every once in a while to mellow out), my mom and godmother decided it would be a good idea to send me off to a boarding school convent thing (to exorcise the demons within I assume). My godmother, being an ex-nun (who SUPPOSEDLY married a Fitzgerald as in John Fitzgerald Kennedy Fitzgeralds -whatever, I didn’t believe it either), pulled some strings to get me an interview in this very prestigious boarding school in Guadalajara Mexico.

I don’t remember much of the interview with THE NUNS (other than they being all frowny faced) but after it was done, they sent me out of the room and spoke to my mom and godmother alone. That place gave me the heebie jeebies! It was dark and creepy and all I could think of was finding a way to escape.

We left shortly after and I never returned. I assumed my mom had been appalled by the prison-like facility and changed her mind but the reality was different. It seems the nuns said “No thank you!” to yours truly and I didn’t find out until this weekend. I asked my mom why she hadn’t shared this information earlier and she said she hadn’t wanted to upset me. I then asked her if she was aware I had a blog and that this juicy information was like gold!

It seems the nuns feared my American-nes and thought I might disrupt the rest of their students and maybe bring unholy ideas into their sanctuary. Some may look at this as a rejection but I think this just solidifies my badass status.

My mom still enrolled me in a regular catholic school though not that it helped much but that is a story for another day.

First the mail makes me giggle then it kicks me in the nuts!

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 03:43:00 +0000

So I was going through my mail and found a catalog I've never gotten before. The clothes were more for women in their late teens early twenties but I was browsing through it anyway when I came across this gem:

I just want to ask why? They're called harem pants but maybe a better name would be "chastity pants". They remind me of something but I can't quite put my finger on it...

Okay, so after I had my giggle, I found this piece of offending mail.

Ummmm, I have never lied about my age but I'm thinking that if I ever start, it will be to take some years off instead of adding them. And also, when (I hope) I turn 40, I will be acting the same way I do now which is basically ageless with a hint of immature. Bastards.

Just to clarify.

Andy’s awesome gift of tweeze came a couple of weeks after the gruesome one hair discovery. We had the idea for the comic ready but he then became too busy to draw it until this week. When the piece of metal lodged in his eye, I already had them which is why I was stunned when he asked if they were rubber tipped. I wanted to respond “did you buy rubber tipped tweezers? um no!” but I figured it would only make Captain Unreasonable angrier.

To answer Brian’s question about my computer cart, it is still alive and kicking and it has not been broken in a fit of rage which is what I think he assumes happened to it. The Christmas after Andy gave me my laptop, my MIL gave me a lap thingie for when I wanted to sit on the sofa and type maniacally (try it, it’s fun) while watching TV.

In other news.

I took myself off the Mirapex. I was so fucked up on Saturday that my guard was down and therefore Andy scored about 20 zingers to my 1.5 (.5 because I started strong on one and then fizzled at the end).

That sucked.

I had to resort to such classics as "oh yeah? well you're a chicken fajita head!" Lame.

Larissa said she takes it and is okey dokey but I wish I would have hired a camera crew to follow me around on Saturday because I was like a female Ozzy Osbourne stumbling and stammering about the place and arguing with light poles (I won every argument in case you're wondering)(no headbutts involved). I finally had 3 cups of coffee which seemed to snap my brain back to its rightful place and end Andy’s reign of zingers but I can never take back his victory dance.

Well, that's about all for today.

Oh yeah, somebody tell Erik Estrada to shut the hell up!

"Bee n' Andy: Married and sometimes, still in love..."-It's the thought that counts?

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 05:00:00 +0000

Yup! He gave me tweezers for the one tiny hair above my lip. You gals can't have him! He's all mine!

Also, I would never wear a striped shirt and when I told Andy that he said he didn't know how to dress Comic Bee and I asked "how about the regular clothes I wear? Like the shirt I'm wearing now" and he said "that's too plain". That's all I needed, my fashion to be critiqued by an electrician.

More: "Bee n' Andy: Married and sometimes, still in love..."

So… my hallucinations.

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 02:33:00 +0000

Wednesday night I took the Mirapex for the first time. The instructions were to take one pill 45 minutes to an hour before bed. I took it at 10pm figuring that by the time I went to bed, the devil within would be tamed or at least high.

I started getting groggy at about 10:30 and could barely form a coherent thought much less say anything that didn’t come out all slurred. My head hit the pillow and BAM! I was in the arms of some random hot actor, I’m not really picky nowadays, within seconds.

Fast forward about 4 hours and I wake up to the smell of skunk. Not unusual in our area and since our windows are open, the smell is totally believable. Until Andy wakes up and I say “effin skunk!” and he’s all “what?”

Bee:
There must be a skunk outside cuz it reeks!

Andy:
Are you dreaming? It doesn’t smell like skunk!

Bee:

Yes it does.

Andy:

No, babe, it doesn't.

Bee:
Holy Moses!! Am I hallucinating?

I’m serious you guys! I had to get up and walk around until I no longer could smell the ""skunk"". I went back to bed but then I started freaking myself out by wondering if I was hallucinating so I couldn't go back to sleep right away. When I finally did fall asleep, I dreamt I was hallucinating having imaginary arguments with Milton and my brother Dan and in my dream I was telling myself they were not really in front of me! Scary shit right there. I can’t have anything else messing with my mind since I’m already halfway to batville without hallucinogens.

Before you go out and get your own personal stash of Mirapex, I have to warn you that the hangover is a bitch. I woke up with dry mouth and a headache. I also went all of Thursday typing with my eyes closed because I was so drowsy and only opening them to proofread at the end.

When I got home from work Thursday, I swear everything I said to Andy went like this:

"Mofracka dinnnnt e" translation= "Mocha didn't eat"

"Pfsuhgakjkss jknsh akhuhngtyskk lskhuhshgshsh" translation= "Ouch"

I only took it that once and I'm gonna take one again tonight so it'll be interesting to see what the side effects will be this time, if any. We're going to my brother's house for a BBQ on Saturday so my brain needs to be on its A-game. Siblings sense weakness and attack.

Happy Fourth

of July!!!

Ahhhh! El amor is forgiving, yes? Also Karma comes a-knockin'!

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 02:24:00 +0000

What is that thing people do when they may have gone over the top and mocked someone a lil bit too much because in reality the person they mocked on the previous post had a rusted piece of metal in their cornea that split into two pieces and they had to anesthetize the eye to remove it then scrape off the rust ring it left behind so I guess that person wasn't being a drama queen and was in fact in a lot of pain??

I'm not sure what the protocol is. Do I send muffins? Nah!

Instead, I gave my Andy the only thing I could find that resembled rubber tipped tweezers.

After he went to see Dr. Grim, Optometrists to the stars, he was told he had a piece of metal embedded in his cornea and it was leaving a rust ring. Dr. Grim told him it needed to be taken out by an Ophthalmologist (which I had suggested that morning but Captain Unreasonable had poo-poo’d the idea).

Once Andy called me, I hustled butt to get him in somewhere before 5 and pulled some strings (read begged and pleaded) with some cornea specialist in our area had to drop OZ's name but you know, perks.

The cornea dude had to scrape off the rust ring it left behind which ewwww! But! The good news is that now I may call Andy “Rusty” and he can’t get mad. Also, if he makes any more old jokes, he’s 4 years younger than I am, I can always say “at least I’m not the one who squeaks when they blink” “is that your rust or are you just happy to see me?” or “pardon me, I couldn’t hear you because of all the rust in your eye”. The possibilities are endless!

Hmmm it doesn’t seem like my apology is going as planned. Oh well! You can’t say I didn’t try. (No you can’t!)

Okay, as payback for my incorrigible behavior (catholic school tried), I went to a neurologist today because I’ve been having too many issues with the old bod’ and the diagnosis my regular doctor (and even the orhto to a certain extent) aren’t jiving. Nothing serious so don’t go buying a black dress but I wanted to know what’s up. I gave him my symptoms and he said maybe peripheral neuropathy (I would need an MRI and EMG -which just the thought of an EMG makes me poop my pants- to be sure) but he first wants to rule out restless leg syndrome (I said to the doctor "But my legs don't flap around violently like I'm trying to be the next Michael Flatley!" the doctor looked at me with his one bulbous eye and one squinty eye and replied "That's not what RLS is" then he studied me in silence for a minute and I closed my left eye because it was watering) so he gave me Mirapex.

The same Mirapex I first mocked here.

MIRAPEX can cause serious side effects, including:

• falling asleep during normal daily activities like driving.

• low blood pressure when you sit or stand up quickly. You may have dizziness, nausea, fainting, or sweating. Sit and stand up slowly after you have been sitting or lying down for a while.
• hallucinations. You may see, hear, feel, or taste something that isn’t there. You have a higher chance of having hallucinations if you are over 65 years old.
• excessive gambling or sexual urges

Karma, no?

Anyway, if you see me driving while sleeping, playing blackjack and talking to no one whom I’m referring to as Brad Ryan Reynolds Pitt, just let me have my moment m'kay?

Ahhh El Amor IS Blind!

seriouslywhogivesacrap@gmail.com (Bee's Dark Side) — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 16:17:00 +0000

You know how sometimes men and women can happily co-exist and then sometimes all their differences are as glaringly apparent as an orange backpack on a neon blue shoed man?

Last night, as we were getting ready for bed, Andy complained about having something in his eye. I myself have been the recipient of little splinters playing tag in my eyeball due to my eyeliner pencil (because I buy the cheap 99¢ pencils that are probably made in China and poisoning me slowly) so I know how irritating it can be. I did my best to offer my sympathy and help. Unfortunately for the both of us, Andy wasn’t in last night. In his stead was Captain Unreasonable whose evil super power is a deafening roar.

I know we women are always making fun of the lack of pain tolerance our men have. We will sip coffee and commiserate on how the poor little bunnies had the sniffles or how they stubbed their toe and dropped to the floor wailing in pain. Breaks your heart, really.

Captain Unreasonable wanted my help but he didn’t want to tolerate my questions or my presence.

CU:
This thing is burning BURNING!

Bee:
Do you know what’s in there?

CU:
NO! ROOOOOAR!

Bee:
Did you let your eye tear up so that it could flush out?

CU:
IT HAS BEEN TEARING ALL DAY! ROOOOOOOAAAAAR!!

Bee:
Okaaaay.

We went to bed where Captain Unreasonable tossed and turned and I read Marley & Me. He finally couldn’t stand it anymore so he got up.

CU:
ROOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRR!

Bee:
Are you going to try and rinse it out?

CU:
I’M GOING TO TRY, BEE!

Bee:
::sigh::

CU:
I need tweezers!

I get out of bed so that I may locate the tweezers.

CU:
Are they rubber tipped?

Bee [thinks ‘what the fuck?’]:
Uhm, no.

CU:
THEN THEY WON’T WORK! ROOOOOAAAR!

Bee:
Can you see where it is clearly? [because I have long nails, you see. Maybe I could be the rubber tipped human tweezers]

CU:
OF COURSE I CAN! ROOOAR! ROOOOAAAAR! ROOOOOOAAAARRRRR!

I finally gave up trying to help because, if I wanted to have my head chewed off, I would staple raw steak to my ass and throw myself in a lion’s den slathered in BBQ sauce.

I went to bed and kept reading Marley & Me, which WTF? why did I torture myself? Did you guys know the freakin' dog dies at the end? It brought back all the memories of every dog that has been my faithful companion in my 36 years on Earth.

As I’m trying not to sob, Andy, I MEAN, Captain Unreasonable was slamming drawers and cabinets looking for these mythical rubber tipped tweezers.

He finally came to bed, angry that I hadn’t used my super healing powers to cure him.

The next morning (today day of the lord Tuesdayeth), he asked me for a magnifying glass. Huh? I thought I was dreaming and had forgotten Captain Unreasonable had made an appearance so I jokingly said:

“Don’t worry babe, it’s big enough”

CU:
ROOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!!!!

Bee:
[mumbles] SHIT.
No, I don’t know where it is.

CU:
I can never find anything in this fucking house!

Bee:
Do you want me to make you an appointment with an ophthalmologist?

CU:
What does an ophthalmologist do?

Bee:
They are eye doctors.

CU:
What’s he gonna do?

Bee:
Is that a ‘no’?

CU:
I DON’T KNOW, BEE! We’ll see later today!

Bee:
[mumbles] That’s right. Don’t look to fix the problem. It’s better to complain.

CU:
WHAT????

Bee:
I said HAVE A GOOD DAY!

I finally went over his head and made him an appointment with Dr. Grim. He’s not an ophthalmologist but I’m sure he can pull Captain Unreasonable’s nose hairs until he cries that little piece of whatsit out of his eye.

I’m also thinking I need to buy a first aid kit and stock it with random objects that may come in handy. Magnifying glass, rubber tipped tweezers, yellow highlighter, staple remover, paper clip, ear plugs…

Babe, if you happen to be reading my blog today of all days, I’m not mocking you, I’m mocking Captain Unreasonable. Besides, I’m just kidding and I feel your pain! Poor little bunny.

I am going to surgically attach my cell to my wrist because that way I will never ever miss important photo opportunities like big yellow-red rats mocking PETA.

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 03:36:00 +0000

Have I ever told you guys how defenseless I feel when I forget my cellphone? I constantly find myself reaching for the spot where it usually rests on my desk. I would have taken a picture of the spot but I forgot my cellphone.

You see, my cell is no longer something I just make phone calls with. Since I no longer have access to the internet at work (which sucks because I can no longer harass Brian and jean knee while I’m at work so now they go on about their lives in peace and who wants that???), I check my email on it, read my favorite blogs, AND take pictures of interesting things.

On Friday, I forgot it at home. And what happens??? Across the street from my office some dudes inflated a giant rat! A giant scary rat with fangs and claws ready to eat you up! This thing was huge and not really lifelike because it was yellow and red but it still had a menacing look to him.

We stood in front of the window wondering what they were advertising using a rat. They had inflated it near some apartment building so one of the bats said, “maybe they’re trying to advertise vacant apartments” and I was like “with a rat?? ‘Hi! Come live here, we have rats!’ No, I doubt it.”

Then, when the coffee made me smurt, I figured out they weren't advertising, they were protesting something. Unfortunately, we couldn’t make out what the signs said and I was too lazy to walk over, the street is one of the busiest in the area, so I just came up with different scenarios in my head.

-They were protesting Scarecrow's very short shorts because hello? It’s Casual Friday not Hoochie Dress Up Day. I know some older women can pull it off but picture the old tanned lady from Something about Mary. Only more wrinkly.

- They were protesting PETA's obsession with eating rocky mountain oyster. Seriously, PETA! You guys are sick!

- They were protesting because I haven't gotten a raise in my allowance in 3 years. We need to know why! I've done ~~all~~ most of my chores!

- They were protesting Milton's constant criticizing on their disorganized protest. "They should hold the signs up higher! They should have printed bigger signs! I can't read what they say! Why is that man on his cellphone?? He doesn't seem too interested in his protest!" and so on.

I was upset with myself for not having my phone so I may photo document this exciting event but I think I came up with a solution so that you may experience what I was seeing semi-first hand.

I was originally going to draw it for you but my drawing looked like cavemen chasing a chia pet so I recreated it with things around my house.

Okay, here we have that big dragon thing representing the rat, a couple of Bonsai trees representing the trees, flowers representing flowers, Betty Boop in her smoking convertible representing cars driving by and honking their support, the 2 Mexican ladies, Han Solo and Pinocchio representing the protestors.

Here is a close up.

Here is an aerial view taken from the Bee chopper in the sky. I don't know what that mini bottle of Tabasco sauce is doing there. Maybe it was left there after their lunch?

We never did find out what they were protesting and they left before I got out of work but I saw Norm talking to them and I'm sure he'll give me the full scoop on Monday.

P.S.

The Sunday Comic should be back next Sunday. We have been a tad busy but I'm planning on making Andy drink nothing but Red Bull this week so his slacking days are over!

So… did you guys know Michael Jackson died?

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 05:11:00 +0000

I’m sure there are a million and one websites reporting, mocking, mourning him and I really hate jumping on bandwagons but in this case, I’d like to share my memories of the King of Pop. I know most people are tired of all the coverage and I've seen some comments about people wondering why his death is getting so much attention. To them I have to say, the man's career spanned decades. If you're surprised the media is going bananas we obviously haven't been living on the same planet.

I wasn't around when Elvis died... wait. Was I? Hold on. Wiki says he died in 1977 so I was about 4ish almost 5 so I don't remember if there was a pilgrimage to Graceland but I'm sure he had about the same amount of coverage as MJ. Well, it was 1977 so people had to settle for news via the pony express. Maybe I should warn you now that when Madonna goes to the big whorehouse in the sky we will be talking about it for weeks. Prepare yourselves, m'mkay?

Anyway.

Like a typical preteen, I had my crushes on famous people or fictional characters. You know, Luke Skywalker, Templeton Peck AKA Face, Bugs Bunny but my first real crush was on Michael Jackson.

My family never had much money. We lived in a 2 bedroom apartment and only had what was necessary and sometimes even less but, every once in a while, my mom would use some of the money she had squirreled away so she could buy us a special treat. In my case, it was my very first cassette tape.

I loved every single song on that tape. My love of MJ infected my little brother, Rick, who was only 2 at the time but he learned every song and imitated his dance moves better than Alfonso Riberio himself (Carlton for us Fresh Prince fans). Little guy could moon walk and Ahh-hee-hee! with the best of ‘em!

I remember when the video for Thriller was set to debut. I put in all necessary requisition forms to have the one TV we owned to myself that night. I sat Rick on my lap and we waited for our idol to take the stage. Rick sat quietly while the video was on and as soon as it was over, I went to put him down but he turned around and wrapped his arms around me, terrified. Awww so cute! Okay, in hindsight, it probably wasn’t a good idea to let a 2 year old watch a video about zombies or werewolves or monsters but I was 12 so give me a break!

I wasn’t one of those kids who collected every little thing that had MJs picture on it but only because we were broke. I did, however, have 2 giant posters and a couple of flea market t-shirts that were worn to the point of being threadbare. Oh! I also had a white vinyl jacket that resembled the one he wore in the Thriller video. Don't ask me why I didn't get a red one. Maybe they only had that color at the flea market. Maybe my mom thought white was better to sweat in in the hot California sun? Another mystery of the universe.

I have this one clear memory of being in my friend Nurselizy’s room* while PYT played and both of us singing at the top of our lungs.

♪♫ I want to love you! PYT! pretty young thing! ♪♫

Of course now people will read more into those lyrics than our innocent minds could have predicted.

As my life changed and music changed and Madonna hit the scene (Shout out to Angel Darling with Borderline!), my MJ tape didn’t get much play but to this day, I hear Beat It, Billy Jean and, going back some, Rock with you and I can’t help but sing along. I still remember all the words to the spoken part of Thriller and often imitate the laugh at the end when I want to scare the dogs. Strangely, they don’t seem to care.

I admit to judging him and ridiculing some of his decisions, ummm once your nose starts looking life a pimple maybe you want to stop with the surgeries, but as Rick and I were talking about him yesterday, I realized I felt pity for him too. I'm not one of those weirdos who was standing outside his home and swaying with my eyes closed because I didn't really know the dude and even if I had, I'm really not much of a swayer but I enjoyed going down memory lane to a more innocent time in my life.

All the Michael talk got my niece Natalia (6) wondering who the heck this Michael Jackson was so she decided to listen to the songs that were being played on TV (she scolded my mom when she wanted to change the channel so she may watch her novelas). Her favorite one so far? Jellybean. Yup. Jellybean or as we know it, Billy Jean.

When I came home from work, she had a special drawing she made of Mr. Jackson himself:

Out of the mouths of babes. (out of the mouth of babes?)

*(I also remember us singing to “Up Side Down” by Diana Ross ♪♫ Up Side Down! boy you turn me, inside out and round n’ round♪♫ )(those were the jams!)

Update on Mistaken Identity of THE WORST KIND.

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 16:26:00 +0000

OZ called in for messages, he is out of the office until Monday (because he has money and a boat and no need to work anymore), and he asked to speak to me. We were all shocked. He never asks to speak to anybody but Glynda because the rest of us only exist when he needs his lunch, coffee, tea, prunes-.

My hand was shaking when I picked up the phone because I was not ready to speak to him so soon after the horrible mental image of someone who looked similar to me hanging out with my boss. He told me the patient had confessed he mistook me for his NIECE and he was sorry if I had been embarrassed. The man did not even stutter.

I told him all was good and let’s please never EVER speak of this again. I, on the other hand, did stutter. I am also upset that my pasty white skin may account for the fact that people think OZ and I are related (BECAUSE WE ARE GOING WITH THE NIECE STORY, PEOPLE!). I need a tan. Or maybe chocolate.

So, let’s all pretend it was his NIECE so that I may be able to sleep at night and not have the recurring nightmare of being chased around the room by Philip Seymour Hoffman* in drag.

*Because OZ and PSH could be identical twins.

p.s.

We were subjected to the pubes on the toilet seat talk again today. I told Glynda it was summertime so maybe people were shedding? Or molting?

STILL SHIVERING!

Mistaken identity of the WORST kind!

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 02:49:00 +0000

Weird encounter with patient I had never met while on my way to the bathroom.

Patient:
Hey there sweetheart! Long time no see!

Bee:
Uh hi. [trying not to appear rude while I start walking towards the front door][then thinking it would be more rude to stand in a puddle]

Patient:
It’s hot out there today. I wonder if it’s going to be like that all summer!

Bee [starting to wiggle]:
Yeah hot summer.

Patient:
Is your father here yet or is he on his way?

Bee [freeze say what??]:
My father? I’m sorry, what?

Patient:
You’re dad is he here yet?

Bee [looking around whahuh?]:
I’m wondering who you think my father is.

Patient:
Isn’t it OZ?

Bee (:-O :
Oh hell no! I mean nooooo. He’s just my boss.

Patient:
Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you said he was your dad.

Bee:
Honestly sir, I don’t think I’ve ever met you.

Patient:
Sure you’ve met me. At that restaurant? When you were having dinner with OZ?

Bee:
EWWWWWWW! No! You definitely have me confused with somebody else.

Patient:
Oh hey. Maybe we should forget this conversation ever took place.

Bee:
Easy for you to say! I’m now going to have nightmares!

I walked back to my desk and Milton asked me why I looked like I was about to throw up.

This encounter freaked me out for a couple of reasons. One is the fact that I resemble someone OZ was ““having dinner with”” because he only has SONS! The other is the fact that I have an urge to peel my skin right off and then dunk myself in acid. ::shiver::

STILL SHIVERING!

♪♫ Saturday in the park... think it was the fist of a fly. ♪♫

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 03:36:00 +0000

Despite all the sore bones and blisters (Sore Bones & Blisters would make an awesome band name), we had a great time on Saturday. We hosted the whole family for a thank you extravaganza and had some yummy food prepared by yours truly. Everything went smoothly until the end where I accidentally knocked over the guacamole dish, NO, I WAS NOT DRUNK, and then all hell broke loose.

Tazz, knowing my mom makes the best guacamole in the world, ran to claim his share. We tried to stop him because of the pesky glass that could rip his stomach open and he was not pleased. His goal then became to take a piece out of every living person around him and he lived up to his Lhasa Apso Tibetan ancestry. A vicious Tazz is a scary and formidable sight. And he will live to be about 140. That's uh hold on, let me get a calculator... ... ... 20 in human years. I also discovered that he may suffer from macular degeneration in the near future and if you’re thinking this will give us the perfect opportunity to escape his attacks, you would be wrong since they do not rely on their eyesight to attack things which piss them off. Mostly Andy.

After everybody had left, Andy and I decided to go see The Hangover (<--preview) for its last showing of the evening. As most of you may know, Andy and I usually hit the movies on Sundays at predawn so we may take advantage of the cheapest priced tickets and also the lack of obnoxious teenagers and howly kids. The theater will usually only have about 10 people including us and that’s how we like it but we figured that if we went Saturday night, we would have most of Sunday to just sit around and get moldy.

We got into the car in the cover of darkness, said a little prayer and left the safety of our driveway. Shivering.

Once at the theater, we bought our tickets and nachos with no unusual incidents other than this geeky guy walking around with an orange backpack and neon blue shoes. What the hell kind of combination is that? There were only a handful of people in the theater so I thought it would be a nice, harmless experience. The feeling didn’t last though because people kept walking in, including Mr. Orange Backpack Neon Blue Shoes, and sitting close enough where I could smell what they had for dinner.

About 10 minutes into the movie, two men were having a discussion about how best to handle a phone call.

One guy said “Hang up the phone asshole or I’m gonna go over and hang it up for you!”

I thought that was reasonable.

Douchebag:
I’m on a call!

Hero:
You have 30 seconds to hang up the fucking phone!

Douchebag:
30 seconds? Cool. That should be enough time to finish my call [to person on the phone] So anyway—

Hero:
HANG UP THE PHONE OR I’ll TAKE YOU OUTSIDE!

Douchebag:
Take me outside? Are we in a movie? Pfft! He's gonna take me outside!

Hero [stood up and went to sit next to El Douche]:
You gonna keep talking?

Douchebag:
This is harassment!

And in what can only be called a beautiful display of unity, (almost) EVERYONE IN THE THEATER:
Both of you SHUT THE FUCK UP!

They both left.

I made sure I had my running shoes on in case I needed to haul ass out of there. Although, I had just had a Mike’s Hard Lemonade so maybe I would have stayed and rumbled.

When we were leaving the movie theater, there was a 70 year old couple exiting the aisle. The man was laughing but the woman was admonishing him for doing so.

Old lady:
Why are you laughing? That was the stupidest movie I have ever seen!

Old dude:
No. It was very amusing.

Old lady:
What is wrong with you??

And as soon as we were out of earshot Andy and I started laughing because we knew exactly what scenes had offended her. I’m not telling you what they are since it would ruin the movie's shockingness. All in all, we still think that old couple is pretty cool for venturing out at that late hour without being afraid of the night crawlies.

Going to a late movie was a nice adventure but I don't thing we'll be repeating that experience any time soon.

Oh yeah, there was one heartbreaking moment on Saturday. I found my first grey hair. Wait. Did you hear me? I, Bee Still-young-person, have discovered a horrific silver hair amongst my beautiful multicolored (because I have way too many different shades of brown, some black and even ORANGE) locks.

This whole getting old thing is unacceptable.

How big are mothballs? Get it? Moth BALLS?? I crack myself up!

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 03:44:00 +0000

We finally found the SOURCE of the moths. It seems my front ~~coat~~ storage closet has been their home for quite a while. I think I saw a hot tub in there.

The discovery was like something out of a Hitchcock horror flick. I went to put away a couple of my purses and when I opened the door, there were about 10 moths still as can be, probably waiting to attack me at just the right moment. Lucky for me, my reflexes are finely tuned when it comes to bugs so I valiantly screamed and closed the door in one quick move.

I looked up ways to kill moths (besides swatting them I mean, or drowning them, or burning them)(PETA STAY AWAY I don't really burn moths) and I couldn't find anything even remotely helpful. We decided to try mothballs but after we brought them home, we read the instructions and I am now fearing for my life because the stupid warnings say not to let that crap touch your skin and here I rolled them in my hands and played dice with them!

I put a few in the closet and closed the door but I can smell them where I'm sitting and I'm about 14 feet away. Right now I'm trying to decide which is worse. Constantly battling moths or the smell of poisoned old lady house.

My eyes are burning. Maybe I have some moth genes in me. Maybe I have moth balls. Get it? It's a good thing you cant see me right now because you'd be wondering what the hell I'm on.

Also, I remember when I was a little kid I did some experiment with moth balls and uh something else for a school science project. I can't remember what it was about and I'm too stoned to google it but if those suckers are that poisonous, why didn't anybody warn me? Can I sue my teacher? Only I don't remember what grade I was in or what state I was living in and maybe what planet I was on. Seriously, should I get rid of those things? Cameron Diaz is playing a mom on her next movie. It's about time they gave her an age appropriate role. She still looks great but I don't need to keep seeing her underroo covered hiney dancing around. The word hiney makes me laugh. Oh lord! Emiio Esteves is like 400 pounds! I think that's Emilio Estevez. I'm watching Burn Unit. No, that can't be him!

Little side convo:

Bee:

Andy! I spelled Hitchcock wrong! And then I realized--

Andy:

How did you spell it?

Bee:

H-i-t-c-o-c-k-- but that's when I realized--

Andy:

That's not how it's spelled!

Bee:

I know! I'm trying to say that's when I realized his name is HITCH-COCK!

Andy:

Yeaaaaaaah? What are you saying? He should have changed his name?

Bee:

Yeah to uhm Tetherpenis or maybe Strappenis hahahahahahaha

Andy:

... That's not funny.

Bee:

It's not? Oh. Never mind then.

Whatever, I thought it was funny.

If somebody knows if that was Emilio Estevez on Burn Unit or just some dude that looks just like him, let me know. I'm tired of thinking. Stay tuned tomorrow.I'm sharing our experience at a late night viewing of The Hangover.

Here I sit.

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 03:58:00 +0000

Today I was going to do a post about how Andy and I were going to see "The Hangover". It was going to be very funny. Okay, maybe it would have been only mildly amusing. However, the sever thunderstorms that hit Chicagoland had a different plan for me.

I had just gotten off the phone with my mom who had informed me there was no water coming into her floor. Awesome!

After all the money and time spent on repairing her place it was nice to hear. I felt pretty good about my day. OZ is still on vacation so I'd have no meeting and I'd be able to leave at 3 and pick up some tacos from the delicious El Famous Burrrrrrito on my way home. Just as I was about to hit publish on Andy's and mine debate on whether we should see "The Hangover" on Sunday (like we always do but he has some reservations because he does not want to watch a raunchy movie on God's day) or Friday evening (which I was against due to my fear of THE TEENAGERS) when I got the dreaded call.

Water was coming in.

I left work to help my mom with what I could. It wasn't like last year were our sump pump went out so loads of water just gushed in. The guys installed a new sump earlier this year and the old one is working great so we just had to focus on sweeping the water that was coming in from under the fuckin bathtub. It seems there is a big gaping hole that needs to be fixed. Guess what the next project is?

Do you guys know how absolutely depressing it is to keep going from one room to the next sweeping water into a hole and then coming back to find it EXACTLY AS BEFORE. Like if you hadn't even spent time sweating your ass off a few minutes ago and swearing at your shoes because they were wet and making your feet hurt.

Here I sit with a blister the size of mount fuckin everest on my hand from the non stop sweeping (of course my mom had to say that by now I should have calluses if only I cleaned my house more often but then I told her I was going to dunk her in the pit so she stopped the mocking) wondering why I was going to post about something so trivial as a movie.

The irony? Tomorrow I'm hosting a BBQ to show our appreciation to everybody who helped with the repairs. I just hope I have enough happy pills to keep me from collapsing because I am at the end of my rope right now. I also have no clue how I'm gonna be flipping the steaks since Blister is bitching at me every time I click the mouse. A reasonable person would let somebody else cook but I don't trust anybody near my grill.

Well, I'm off to make a voodoo doll of the asswipe who sold us our house and never mentioned the water issues. First I will shrink his ears, left leg and right nostril. Then I will let Tazz have at his crotch. May he rot in hell.

Oh yeah! Happy Father's Day to all you good dads out there!

I can't blog today because Andy poopy head is making me clean.

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 02:33:00 +0000

So today Andy noticed that our home has been getting messier and sloppier and smellier and uh well, it was bad, Jerry!

He didn't say "CLEAN THE HOUSE SERVANTWOMAN!!" or anything deathwish like that. No. It was more like "hmmmm the house seems to have taken a turn for the worse since your mom moved downstairs." This made me jump outta my chair and start going through stacks of DUSTY newspapers, junk mail, magazines EMPTY YOGURT CONTAINERS-- what? and do the dishes because I do not want him to find out that the Susie homemaker houswife who had our house spotless was... my mommy.

Right now I'm supposedly ""cleaning"" the bathroom but as you can see, I am doing a post via Scarlett's email capabilities. Andy is clueless though. Although, he might question the fact that I brought a beer into the bathroom... IT'S NOT GROSS! Everyone knows alcohol kills all germs! Besides, I can't eat pretzels without drinking beer. Now you're judging me again!

Oh oh! Tazz just opened the door! He's probably looking to huff some cleaning products. Damn junkie!

Laters gators.

Peter picked a pile of pickled hos.

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 02:03:00 +0000

I was sitting at my desk, typing my own business, when Scarecrow came and told me she had a funny story that she knew I would appreciate because I, me, myself am such a great story teller. I cut her off and asked her to please tell me more about how great I am before I let her continue with her ““funny”” story.

Here is what she told me:

The other day I made pickles but I wanted to get them out of my house so I took some to both my mom and my mother-in-law and my minivan smelled like pickles all day even though I bought an air freshener!

[I waited for the punch line]

[I scratched my head and stuck my pinkie in my ear because it was itchy]

[I looked at the time and wondered how many lollipops I could stuff in my mouth without drooling]

[I finally had to ask…]

Is that it?

Scarecrow:
Yeah. Isn’t it funny?

Bee:
Tell ya' what I’m gonna do for you. I am going to overhaul your story so that when you tell it to people, you get a couple of chuckles. (Yeah, I have that much of an ego.) Ready?

Scarecrow:
Okay.

Bee:
— I made some pickles this weekend only to realize I had more than my husband and children would ever eat, I don’t like pickles you see, so I decided to give some to my mom and mother-in-law. Despite the forecast for cool weather, the day was hot n’ humid and as a result they were particularly eh… pungent. Okay lets be honest they STUNK like a $4 dollar hooker with a hangover on a summer day!

[wait for snickers here]

I opened my windows and drove merrily singing to Dr. Dre's’ “Nuthin' But A 'G' Thang"—

Scarecrow:
What song is that?

Bee:
It doesn’t have to be that song but pick one that would be bizarre hearing you sing.

— Even though the smell was overpowering, I imagined the pleasure my moms would have when eating their pickles so I tried to breathe through my mouth. Besides, once I delivered them, the smell would leave my car, right? WRONG!

The scent clung to every fiber of my minivan with the tenacity of a koala bear on peyote.—

Scarecrow:
Koala Bear?

Bee:
It doesn’t have to make sense.

— I stopped at a nearby Walgreen’s and bought a piña colada air freshener in the hopes that the coconut would drive the smell away but the only thing it did was have me daydreaming of rum.

[wait for applause here]

Scarecrow:
I didn’t know you didn’t like pickles!

Bee:
::sigh:: I love pickles but I know YOU don’t like pickles and you have to make people aware of that fact so they know why the smell of them would drive you insane.

Scarecrow:
Oh. I don’t think I can remember all that but I’ll try it.

[later in the day]

Scarecrow [to PD]:
I bought a piña colada air freshener because my minivan smelled like a hooker covered in pickle juice!

And that, my friends, made me laugh.

Mondays and I are like 2 pigeons having a pissing contest.

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 03:39:00 +0000

You know how I'm always saying that Mondays suck donkey balls?

Well they do.

I called in sick last Friday because I was sick of going to work but trying to "stick it to 'em" always back fires. I had 3 people complain about the same situation and all 3 stories were different! The kicker was that they were ALL WRONG! It took me 2 minutes to solve a problem they spent all of Friday working on.

Whatever.

When I finally left the work Monday from hell, I was greeted by this awesome splatter of bird shit on the windshield. It was perfectly centered, a work of art really, so I give the bird major kudos. Since we had a warm sunny day, the bird shit was nicely baked onto the glass and nearly impossible to remove. Awesome!

Then I sat in 20 minutes of construction traffic just to go 3 blocks.

My normal 5 minute commute took almost half an hour. I know you're probably crying for me right now.

Just when I thought my Monday couldn't get worse, I received an email from a person who had sent me 3 previous ones. This person wants me to submit my blog to a certain directory. I'm not really submitting my blog anywhere else at the moment since I'm doing pretty well with the ones I'm in now. However, I still think I may have thought about it had the person sending me the email gotten my name right.

"Hello Bette,
About a month ago I sent you an email inviting you to add your blog to XXXXXXX.com - the first blog directory that categorizes using geography, not categories - and I thought I would give you one last gentle nudge!"

I will let Bette know this is her last gentle nudge but I can't guarantee she'll give a flying rat turd.

Oh well tomorrow is Tuesday and OZ starts his vacation so I'm sure it'll be better.

In other, evil news...

The other day, my brother Rick, who is living in the upstairs floor of my house, hid behind my mom’s kitchen door so that he may pop out and yell BOO! just as I entered the kitchen.

I hate it when people do that and everybody knows it but it makes them laugh to hear me shriek like a school girl because it is so ANTI my tough chick persona.

Rick was laughing so hard, I thought he was going to drop his left testicle. Jerk!

So, in the time honored tradition of siblings getting back at one another…

My mom was in her bedroom changing Rick’s baby’s diaper. I went into mom’s bedroom, said ‘hi’ then came barreling back out and exclaimed “the baby fell off the bed!” to which Rick’s heart dropped and he said “WHAT??” and was heading over there when I yelled “scared ya’!”

For some reason he didn’t think that was funny. On the other hand, I think I’ve cured him of his ‘scare Bee’ habit. I do what I can for humanity.

"Bee n' Andy: Married and sometimes, still in love..." - I heart Home Depot!

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 05:33:00 +0000

War— I mean WORK stories.

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 03:08:00 +0000

It’s been a while since I regaled you with the adventures of Arkham Asylum. Today we will feature:

Milton (female), the bookkeeper (one of my favorites).

Scarecrow, the spastic x-ray tech.

Purple Dino-SOUR, the world’s most useless human.

And because I do like to mock myself from time to time, Bee, the cool chick.

When last we left Arkham, the biddies were devising new ways to mentally torture our favorite character, Bee.

Milton

Milton:
Do you know who threw out the green scott brite dish sponge?

Bee:
The ugly dingy one that no longer made suds and was even oily and black?

(That's not it. It looks better than the one I threw away)

Milton:
Yeah, that one.

Bee:
No.

[I actually had it wrapped in a paper towel in my purse. I know that sounds weird but this thing was revolting and she was using it to wash the forks and spoons I use to eat my food. Which means they go in my mouth. I couldn’t throw it away in any of the garbage cans because…]

Milton:
I looked in the garbage cans and it’s not in any of them. They had to have thrown it out at some point yesterday before the cleaning crew came.

[… I knew she would dig through the garbage so I had grabbed it that morning before she came in and stuffed it in my purse. It’s scary how well I know my bats]

Bee:
I’ll bring you a new one from home. That one was beyond disgusting. It probably already had a micro civilization complete with skyscrapers and Al Gore.

Milton:
You guys are too delicate. At home, I can go months without replacing the sponge.

[after I swallowed my bile, I made a mental note not to eat at Milton’s house.]

Scarecrow

Bee [on the phone with a patient while both the receptionist and her back up, PD, were on vacation]:
We have an opening tomorrow if you’d like to come in then, Mrs.—.

Scarecrow [in such a loud whisper I wouldn’t be surprised if Brian heard her]:
Oh no! Not Mrs.—! We do not want to see Mrs.—!

Bee:
We will see you on Friday Mrs.—. [I slowly turned to look at Scarecrow and she almost seemed to shrink before my eyes] May I see you in the chartroom for a minute?

Scarecrow:
I-I-I have to go look for a chart.

Bee:
Well, you can start in the chartroom!

I dragged her boney ass in there and proceeded to tell her how unprofessional she was to not only say such things about a patient while I’m on the phone with her but to say it in front of other patients in the waiting room. I told her that while I was the substitute receptionist she was NOT going to behave in such a manner on my watch! Her response?

Scarecrow:
W-w-would you like me to bring you a cup of coffee?

I think she was trying to show me her underbelly as a sign of submission but I ain’t taking any chances in her spitting in my precious coffee.

Purple Dino-SOUR

As I said before, both Cowardly Lion (the receptioist) and PD were on vacation so the next person in line to play receptionist was lil’ ole me. Why the hell they stuck me as the receptionist is beyond me since I am clearly not a people person! Usually when PD goes on her yearly jaunts to Le Florida, I get to work her desk and mine. However! These were special circumstances. I had never done a 2 day stint as the merry phone lady so I figured PD’s desk could rot for all I cared.

Would you believe this bubble head came in and threw a tantrum because her desk looked like somebody had replaced it with mine?

PD:
Did you run claims for me last week?

Bee:
No, I was hoping the elves would come in and do it for you since I was too busy trying to do my job and be receptionist at the same time.

PD:
I can’t get all this done in one week!

Bee:
So hey? How was your vacation? I haven’t taken one in 2 years and this is your third this year.

PD:
I have worked here 18 years! Don’t I deserve to take a vacation?

Bee:
Of course you do! You need time off from the 5 hour 3 days a week job you have. I’d be exhausted too but nobody does my work when I go away to sunbathe in the nude.

PD:
::gasp!:: [stalks off to complain to her fellow bubble heads]

Bee

First up.

For those of you keeping score, I was KM a couple of weeks ago so I brought in a healthy veggie tray with dip and some chocolate and blueberry muffins. Those rotten old ladies did not eat any of my snacks so I wound up having to throw out the veggies because they grew moldy. The muffins were enjoyed by my family so that was okay but what the hell!

This week I had a plan. I was not going to eat any of the treats Toto brought in as a sign of protest. I wanted them to feel all hurt and achy inside just like I did when they didn’t eat my goodies. Come with me as I give you peek into my head.

Bee [all in my head]:
Hmmm she brought 2 types of coffee cake. I don’t care what kind she brought I AM NOT HAVING ANY!

Oh, one is open custard [mouth drooling] and the other is Bavarian chocolate chip [drool spilling onto my shirt]… NO! ooh! She brought colby-jack cheese too! Maybe I’ll just have a little piece— NO!! Oh dear lord! She brought the dip she knows I love! She did this on purpose just to torture me! She’s met her match because I will resist the temptation—

Who am I kidding? I have no self control when it comes to snackies.

And to end things with a golden brush of dumbass...

I requested a copy of our contract from a big name insurance company. They faxed it over and I made 3 copies but for some reason I thought the contract they faxed had print on both sides of the page so I had to redo the copies and make them two sided. We have an old fax machine. Can anyone tell me why I'm a dumbass?

Now you'll know what I sleep in... and it's not a coffin you jerks!

beesmusings@gmail.com (Bee) — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 03:35:00 +0000

You know what this is?

This is a picture of my warm, cozy pajama bottoms*. I have puppy pjs, moon and star pjs and skiing dude pjs. That's right, nothing says sex appeal like fuzzy pajamas!

Normally, around this time of year, they would be tucked away in the far corners of my closet waiting patiently for winter. So far this year I have put them away 3 times but here they are, freshly laundered and ready for me to wear again tonight because the person holding the giant thermostat in the sky has decided we need a few more months of winter. Somebody find that groundhog and fry his ass!

In other news.

As you may remember, I'm still looking for a replacement job because I am fed up with the nuthouse and I'm determined not to turn into a whiney old lady.

I uploaded my resume to Carreer Builders and they send out emails every once in a while with job matches.

Usually they are pretty accurate and I have had a couple of oddball ones but Holy Mother of Moses did they send me a couple of perfect matches!

All in all, a step up from the asylum.

*The PJs are thanks to my awesome little sister.