A Eugoogoolie

Dearly Beloved,

We are gathered here to mourn the loss of our good friend and faithful companion, Green Purse.

Green Purse was a purse of unlimited potential, yet surprisingly modest beginnings; she was picked up, brand new, silica gel packet still in place, at the local GoodWill store for the humble price of $5.99.

Green Purse had then, and still had until the day she passed away, an enormous capacity for stuff. All kinds of stuff. Yes, she carried all of the basic necessities - cell phone, wallet, keys etc. But beyond those bare basics, she was known to offer shelter to a wide range of tools and equipment. When somebody brought a sweatshirt and had no need for it, she took it in. When somebody was convinced that he or she could not get through the day without 2 or 3 bottles of water, she gracefully accepted her load. And who could forget that time when she sheltered the mystery knife? Oh, Green Purse, the surprises you had in store for us all.

Green Purse was well traveled. With her owner, she went on business trips that took her to exotic destinations such as St. Cloud, Minnesota and Jacksonville, Florida, always providing a snack or reading material during long waits at in the terminal. Passport safely enveloped, she had adventures and Canada and honeymooned and Bermuda. Wherever her owner found herself, Green Purse was always in tow, clutched safetly in the armpit of her mistress lest she be snagged or pickpocketed.

Green Purse saw it all. She saw her owner quit her job and get another job. She saw her owner married, separated, divorced, and married once again. She outlasted two generations of wallets, three cell phones, and countless tubes of lipgloss. She survived a run-in with the resident cat (although she wore several scratches bravely for nearly two years), and numerous close calls with the resident NoMiloBadDog.

It was only in the last several months that she began to show her age. Hairline cracks in her shoulder strap slowly turned into unsightly gouges, until she was deemed no longer fit for public display. But up until her last day, she did what any purse should do.

She held my crap 'till the end.

Oh, Green Purse.
The places you went.
The things you saw.
The lives you changed.

You will be forever in our hearts.

Imma Outlive ALL You Beeyatches

Water and I...we don't get along.



I hate hate HATE drinking water.

And I know a lot of people say that, but riddle me this Batman:



When was the last time you met a person who could drink 2 cups of coffee in the morning and NOTHING ELSE for the rest of the day?



Convinced that I'm an alien?

Yeah, that makes two of us.



I went to my doctor recently to get some bloodwork done. Some of my levels, like potassium and vitamin D and creatinine, were off.



But on the good news, I'm HIV- and Hepatits-negative, so there were no uncomfortable discussions when I got home.



Anyway, after some though, he cocked his head at me and asked, "Is there any chance you could have been dehydrated on the day they drew your blood?"



And I was all, story of my fucking life, doc.



Doctor: How much water do you drink on average?

Me: Not much at all.

Doctor: Like, how many 16 oz glasses per day

Me: None, ususally.

Doctor: None?

Me: None.

Doctor: Not even one glass?

Me: Not if I can help it.

Doctor: Other beverages? Tea? Juice?

Me: Coffee in the morning, but nothing else really.

Doctor: You know coffee is a diuretic, right?

Me: Yeah

Doctor: So you drink diuretic liquids in the morning and nothing else all day.

Me: Pretty much.

Doctor: How many times a day do you pee?

Me: I dunno. Maybe 2.

Doctor: Does that include nighttime?

Me: Yes.

Doctor: Ever get up in the middle of the night to pee?

Me: Sometimes when I drink too much.

Doctor: Well, alcoholic beverages are diuretics too.

Me: Yeah, I know.



I think they call this a stalemate.



Have you ever had anybody look at you like you're supposed to be dead but for some reason, you're not?

That was kind of the look he gave me. It was creepy.



So I took the opportunity to ask him the question that's been burning in my mind for years now:



If I were stuck in the desert with a bunch of other people, would I be the FIRST to die from dehydration...or the LAST?



As in, is my body so used to being dehydrated that I'd be making fucking sandcastles while my companions were dropping like flies?

Or am I so behind the 8-ball when it comes to being hydrated that I'd shrivel up like a raisin after 10 minutes?



The expert consensus? After careful consideration, my doctor guessed that I'd probably be the last to die.

"Heck," he said, "you might even set a new record."

YEESSSSSSS!



"Of course," he added, "that's not a good enough reason to drink as little as you do. Barring any trips to Africa, I'd recommend drinking more....A LOT more."



He's such a party pooper.

Spring Fling

We could talk about my virtual abandonment of this blog...
...but let's not.

Instead, let's look at pretty "spring-has-sprung" pictures!
Yep.
Good plan.

*Not Pictured: poor droopy crocus that got pummeled in the rainstorm. Poor crocus :-(

Blog post coming tomorrow, I promise!!

Mystery Knife

I almost left this blog a "Dear John" letter.
I really did.

My life has been crazy lately. Good crazy. AND bad crazy. Just...crazy. And I was seeing no end in sight - no time in the upcoming weeks where I would sit back and say, aah, I think I'll write a blog because I have nothing else to do with my time.

So I thought about writing a "goodbye for now" kind of post. You know...the kind where I say OMG thank you for all the wonderful times and then ask if I could interest you all in a long drive in the country, and let you guys out of the car and throw a ball so you're distracted and don't notice me getting back into the car and speeding off into the night.

And then I found a knife in my purse.

Which - admittedly - is odd.
I mean...I don't remember putting a knife in my purse. But then again, just because I didn't remember putting the smoke detector in the freezer last month doesn't mean it didn't happen.

So I was cleaning out my purse and I found the knife at the bottom, underneath layers of receipts and miscellaneous candy wrappers and okay, I might have Alzheimers.

No biggie. It happens.

But then, I went to put it away....
...and it didn't match the other knives in the block.

(The handle was thicker, heavier, and a different shade of black [TWSS])

But seriously...all joking aside... NOTHING escalates things from "quirky" to "ominous" faster than finding a knife in your purse that doesn't belong to you.

I can only assume that terrorists slipped it into my purse when I wasn't looking.
Or the government.
Or my husband, who is trying to frame me for the murder of his mistress.

Either way, I smell a Lifetime movie deal.

But the knife.
Yeah.
I still have no idea whose it is or why it was in my purse.

But on the good side, it reminded me why its a good thing to have a blog.
Because if for no other reason, it's a great way to create multiple witnesses when one finds a potential murder weapon in one's handbag.

(and yeah, I might have missed you guys. A little bit)

(Okay, a lottle bit)

MIA

Sorry guys.

I know I've been MIA on this blog lately, but cut me a break, will ya?

I'm going bald, for chrissake.

Oh yeah, and my husband is about to get laid off on May 3 and I don't really have a job, per say, and OMG I'm about to have an aneurysm.

(No, that's not the mystery illness, but seriously - shit is getting very real around here).

In other words, it's hard to be funny when life is kicking you in the babymaker.

Hopefully things work out. In the meantime, I've been too worried about potentially losing the house to blog.

Is it any WONDER that I'm losing my hair?!?!

But now, you'll excuse me - I need to get back to that aneurysm.

Toodle-ooo!

A Klepto Among Us

Kleptomania

Main Entry: klep·to·ma·nia
Pronunciation: \ˌklep-tə-ˈmā-nē-ə, -nyə\
Function: noun
Etymology: New Latin
Date: 1830
1. a persistent neurotic impulse to steal especially without economic motive

2. an abnormal, persistent impulse or tendency to steal, not prompted by need

3. A senseless desire to collect one's owner's things on the couch for snuggle time and/or to destroy them

Okay, I might have made that last one up. But let's just move on to the evidence, shall we?

Fucking hell, Milo.
I came out into the living room the other day after taking a shower, and this is what I find. My dog, looking horribly guilty, amongst a pile of my belongings; namely, a boot, and a pair of my.....ahem....unmentionables, which are blacked out in the name of decorum.

Apparently even I have limits when it comes to discression. Who knew?!?

Not that I mind that he likes to gather my belongings in a pile. It's actually kind of cute (and flattering, if one can be flattered by an animal who is 100% dependent on them for food and shelter).

The problem is that Milo doesn't really see the difference between hanging out with my stuff because he loves me...and eating my stuff because he loves me.
Sunggling with my boot or ingesting my boot...it's all the same to him.

Which is why he's loved me enough to eat a countless number of my possessions, while leaving Brian's things relatively unscathed.

Brian says I should feel honored.

I say we need a new dog.
Preferrably one that isn't, by definition, a kleptomaniac.

I mean, talk about stealing without economic motive! Unless Milo is planning on selling my underthings on the internet, I'd say that his penchant for thievery is about as un-economically motivated as you can get.
For one thing, both the boot and the undergarment have been around the block a few times, if you know what I mean.
For another thing, until he grows opposable thumbs, he isn't getting very far with any of his conquests.
And finally, if he was planning on ingesting them...why bother? He has acces to a bowl of high-quality kibble at all times (mostly because I'm too lazy to institute twice-daily "feeding times")

What would Freud think of this animal?

Better yet, what would Dog Whisperer Cezar Milan think of this behavior?!?

If anybody has any suggestions for how to break a dog of his kleptomaniac habbits, I'm all ears. Until then, I think I'm going to need to invest in a safe.

Or a good shock collar.
kidding....

TITD Goes International, Beeyatch, And Buys A Boat

Oh, man, I'm too cool for school.

I'm SO cool, that I have people from Greece following my blog.

Hello, Billo Greece, otherwise known as (new) reader #87.

(I say "new" reader #87, because I *had* a reader #87 at one point. And then he/she died. I'm assuming.)

This guy? Is Greek.
Like, so Greek, I can't even read his blog.
Or understand the OTHER site he recently joined.

Which makes it official. Tapdancing in the dark (or TITD, for those of you - myself included - who are too lazy to spit out 6 whole syllables) has gone international.

Awesome-sauce.

You guys, I'm totally psyched.
I'm ready to drink some Ouzo and break some plates and roast a fucking goat in the yard.

Which really isn't that different than any other day, but you know what I mean...

I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do with my new international blog celebrity status, and I'm torn between producing my own line of high-end vodka (It'll be called reTARD by Lily) or buying a yacht.

Although, after watching THIS video, it's pretty clear what my choice should be.



Oh yeah, Imma buy me a boat.