Safeway chronicles Part 7
There was no comet on the shelf so I sayz to the Safeway worker standing next to me "excuse me do you know if there is anymore comet in the back. I need that shit." Like a fucking crackhead. She looked at me and said "do you have to go potty?" I said "what now?" (It was weird cause I did have to go) "Um yeah I guess I do but no, um, I need some comet. Can you see if they have any in the back?" She shook her head while saying "I'll buy you a big boy potty." Me, being used to crazy Safeway people said "ok well, a. I'm a girl. Recognise. And b. Wtf. I need some comet lady. Let's go ." She covered her ear looked at me and said "I'm on the phone bitch and I don't fucking work here." I just stared at her, shocked. "But your wearing red...." I said in disbelief. "It's Christmas you Dumbass." She said and walked away. While I watched her walk away I yelled "na ah......Christmas was yesterday!" And a little boy next to me said "no it wasn't. It was two days ago." I looked at the kid and said "oh shut up." And his mom said "excuse me? " while holding a can of comet in her hand. "Hey can I have that?" I asked and she grabbed her kids hand and ran off.
Fucking Safeway.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
action shot
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Thursday, May 12, 2011
Sunday, May 8, 2011
I go I don't need to get dressed I'm just gonna feed those dogs and be right back. But I forgot gas tanks don't fill themselves. So I ran outta gas in buttfuck wishing I had a bra on under my owl pjs. Oh some underwear too. Oh and that maybe I had my wallet. But then, dear friends, where's the fun in that?
Friday, May 6, 2011
ROID RAGE
I accidently had to smash a beer can on this guys head at my brothers show last Saturday. It wasn’t my fault, he punched me in the stomach first. However I was later told that it may have been on accident since I was standing on the edge of the pit when it happened and it may have been told to me before I hit him with the can, but I couldn’t help my reaction, I have roid rage.
That’s not my fault either. I HAVE to take them. They are a prescription. That means they are ok.
You see, I have a rash. This is why they prescribed them to me. To help make it go bye bye. I got like 3 other prescriptions too but they are too boring to mention.
The roids make me inappropriately hot though and I think my face looks a wee bit on the puffy swollen coke whore like side but other than that I don’t seem to be itching!
At first I thought I had scabies. I didn’t actually know what scabies were but some one said they make you itch and you can get them from dust mites. Now as I clean houses and I had this really pretty rash, well I made q rush me to the urgent care asap. I was so freaked out that I might have fucking bugs on me that I proceeded to ask everyone there what scabies were, if my rash looked like them and do they want to feel it.
Q says that’s what he means by inappropriate.
I made friends though the receptionists loved me. I think their job might be boring. I mean they sat there and shared their own stories and talked to me for like 20 minutes. Nice ladies really. I think it might freak q out a little how quickly I’ll tell someone how I have to poop so do they think I have time before my appointment?
But so anyhow this is why I have steroids and why I have roid rage and why shit happens when a stupid douche bag decides to dance around in a giant circle like a fucking bull in a china shop knocking into everyone and punching girls in the stomach. He deserved a beer to the head.
But, it was too bad the beer was full and my aim was sorta off cause as I did manage to smash him directly above the eye, the mouth of the can was pointed directly at Nicoles face and well, as she was showered with a full can of pabst (with lemon) she screamed “fuck roid rage!” and I thought she was gonna kill me so I turned to run, slipped on my pabst (with lemon) did some fucked up splits, came back upright and knocked the top of my head into said dancing douche bags chin as his fucking girlfriend decided to stomp repeatedly on my foot with her high heel. So it also wasn’t my fault that I shoved her so hard she fell on her giant ass showing everyone her fuzzy kiekie. God invented panties for a reason whore. Try wearing some next time.
Damn that was a fun night.
That’s not my fault either. I HAVE to take them. They are a prescription. That means they are ok.
You see, I have a rash. This is why they prescribed them to me. To help make it go bye bye. I got like 3 other prescriptions too but they are too boring to mention.
The roids make me inappropriately hot though and I think my face looks a wee bit on the puffy swollen coke whore like side but other than that I don’t seem to be itching!
At first I thought I had scabies. I didn’t actually know what scabies were but some one said they make you itch and you can get them from dust mites. Now as I clean houses and I had this really pretty rash, well I made q rush me to the urgent care asap. I was so freaked out that I might have fucking bugs on me that I proceeded to ask everyone there what scabies were, if my rash looked like them and do they want to feel it.
Q says that’s what he means by inappropriate.
I made friends though the receptionists loved me. I think their job might be boring. I mean they sat there and shared their own stories and talked to me for like 20 minutes. Nice ladies really. I think it might freak q out a little how quickly I’ll tell someone how I have to poop so do they think I have time before my appointment?
But so anyhow this is why I have steroids and why I have roid rage and why shit happens when a stupid douche bag decides to dance around in a giant circle like a fucking bull in a china shop knocking into everyone and punching girls in the stomach. He deserved a beer to the head.
But, it was too bad the beer was full and my aim was sorta off cause as I did manage to smash him directly above the eye, the mouth of the can was pointed directly at Nicoles face and well, as she was showered with a full can of pabst (with lemon) she screamed “fuck roid rage!” and I thought she was gonna kill me so I turned to run, slipped on my pabst (with lemon) did some fucked up splits, came back upright and knocked the top of my head into said dancing douche bags chin as his fucking girlfriend decided to stomp repeatedly on my foot with her high heel. So it also wasn’t my fault that I shoved her so hard she fell on her giant ass showing everyone her fuzzy kiekie. God invented panties for a reason whore. Try wearing some next time.
Damn that was a fun night.
I hate that for the most part a lot of this is going to be repeats from my facebook account. I know I know I need some new material but I thought I was posting all of this lately because I thought I had set up a thing were I could txt new posts but I guess its broken or some shit. I tried to read on the help page how to fix it but I don’t know what the fuck mms or sms is so fuck it. I’ll make my husband do it when he gets home.
That’s what she said. Hahahahahah
Anyhow.
The other day my dad and I got in this fight over whether or not Tracy Chapman is a woman.
I made my weekly call to my dad. Actually, i talk to him more than that. Sometimes everyday. I mean mainly its txting but about once a week he calls me and leaves threatening phone calls that if i dont return he goes into the negative land where he assumes something awful has happened and he threatens to call the cops and says he will just start planning my funeral if he doesnt hear from me. Im tellin ya.
It was a polite enough conversation, mainly me asking him how he is, how the dogs, my mom, my gradma is etc. It was when my dad exclaimed “oh I like this song, this guy has a great voice.” That it took a weird turn.
I heard “fast car” by Tracy Chapman playing in the backround and said “what song is that dad? Fast car?”
“Yes.” He said “By that guy…. Tracy something.”
I paused at first because my dad is sorta notorious for calling boys girls and girls boys especially the dogs. I mean he straight up knows his dog Ivy is a girl but he often says things like “Ivy is such a funny girl dog. He just wants to play. Good boy.” So I wasn’t going to say anything until he said, “seems like a strange name for a guy.”
At this point I realized he didn’t know it was a woman. So I told him
“Dad, Tracy Chapman is a woman.”
Then my dad paused. “Whos Tracy Chapman?” he said
Sigh. “The woman singing that song.”
“What song?” he said.
“Dad! The song you like, that fast car one your listening to.”
More pause and then….”the one on now? Don’t be stupid that’s a guy.”
I started laughing cause I just assumed he was kidding. But he didn’t laugh back. So I said “are you serious dad? No Tracy Chapman is definatly a girl.”
My dad said nothing for close to a minute, listening I think, to the song. Then out of nowhere he said,
“you think everyone is a girl. This conversation is over.”
And he hung up on me.
That’s what she said. Hahahahahah
Anyhow.
The other day my dad and I got in this fight over whether or not Tracy Chapman is a woman.
I made my weekly call to my dad. Actually, i talk to him more than that. Sometimes everyday. I mean mainly its txting but about once a week he calls me and leaves threatening phone calls that if i dont return he goes into the negative land where he assumes something awful has happened and he threatens to call the cops and says he will just start planning my funeral if he doesnt hear from me. Im tellin ya.
It was a polite enough conversation, mainly me asking him how he is, how the dogs, my mom, my gradma is etc. It was when my dad exclaimed “oh I like this song, this guy has a great voice.” That it took a weird turn.
I heard “fast car” by Tracy Chapman playing in the backround and said “what song is that dad? Fast car?”
“Yes.” He said “By that guy…. Tracy something.”
I paused at first because my dad is sorta notorious for calling boys girls and girls boys especially the dogs. I mean he straight up knows his dog Ivy is a girl but he often says things like “Ivy is such a funny girl dog. He just wants to play. Good boy.” So I wasn’t going to say anything until he said, “seems like a strange name for a guy.”
At this point I realized he didn’t know it was a woman. So I told him
“Dad, Tracy Chapman is a woman.”
Then my dad paused. “Whos Tracy Chapman?” he said
Sigh. “The woman singing that song.”
“What song?” he said.
“Dad! The song you like, that fast car one your listening to.”
More pause and then….”the one on now? Don’t be stupid that’s a guy.”
I started laughing cause I just assumed he was kidding. But he didn’t laugh back. So I said “are you serious dad? No Tracy Chapman is definatly a girl.”
My dad said nothing for close to a minute, listening I think, to the song. Then out of nowhere he said,
“you think everyone is a girl. This conversation is over.”
And he hung up on me.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
why me so pretty today
1. My face is swollen beyond recognition. Q called me Mask this morning.
2. I have a rad limp because I tripped over my fucking asshole cat while she was trying to get my attention to give her some kitty treats. Never ever let your cat try those temptation treats….you will regret it. that shit is straight up kitty crack.
3. my eyecircles are down to my mouth and are the color of a ripe plum. I think I have been sleeping a total of like 3 hours a night due to my lovely dog Alabama who spends her nights practicing her karate kicks on my kidneys. When I woke up and pissed this morning it took me a second to realize that its actually my pierod that started and not that im pissing blood which is what I assumed from the god awful pain.
4. Speaking of Alabama, she is a fucking bed hog too. I get maybe a fourth of the bed and my back is so jacked now I cant stand up straight.
5. I have a stress rash all over my arms and legs so I am constantly itching myself till I bleed like a crackhead.
6. Due to the rash, I have to wear flowy linen clothes that don’t touch my body. I mean turns out I like these clothes, but I look a bit like a bag lady.
7. My hair hates this weather so it is a huge ball of frizz that I cannot contained because seems my dogs have eaten all of my hair ties. So I have to wear one of qs stocking caps to contain my brillo pad head and it makes me look like a man.
Like a crooked old man with a limp and a swollen purple face with a seeping rash in linen clothes. And no, im not happy to see you, that’s a tampon in my pocket.
2. I have a rad limp because I tripped over my fucking asshole cat while she was trying to get my attention to give her some kitty treats. Never ever let your cat try those temptation treats….you will regret it. that shit is straight up kitty crack.
3. my eyecircles are down to my mouth and are the color of a ripe plum. I think I have been sleeping a total of like 3 hours a night due to my lovely dog Alabama who spends her nights practicing her karate kicks on my kidneys. When I woke up and pissed this morning it took me a second to realize that its actually my pierod that started and not that im pissing blood which is what I assumed from the god awful pain.
4. Speaking of Alabama, she is a fucking bed hog too. I get maybe a fourth of the bed and my back is so jacked now I cant stand up straight.
5. I have a stress rash all over my arms and legs so I am constantly itching myself till I bleed like a crackhead.
6. Due to the rash, I have to wear flowy linen clothes that don’t touch my body. I mean turns out I like these clothes, but I look a bit like a bag lady.
7. My hair hates this weather so it is a huge ball of frizz that I cannot contained because seems my dogs have eaten all of my hair ties. So I have to wear one of qs stocking caps to contain my brillo pad head and it makes me look like a man.
Like a crooked old man with a limp and a swollen purple face with a seeping rash in linen clothes. And no, im not happy to see you, that’s a tampon in my pocket.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Ok, lets talk about it. I see a therapist. Granted, I’ve only been to see him twice counting today, but still I go. It’s a different kind of thing. I mean, a lot of people are embarrassed or ashamed of going and don’t want anyone to know or to talk about it. For me, it’s the least embarrassing thing I’ve ever done, and everything I talk about to this guy is honestly what I would tell the random stranger who makes the mistake of asking me how I am today. I tell everybody everything, and I invented the concept of too much information. So why stop now.
My therapists name is Bruce. He won’t let me call him Batman. Not only do they have the same first name, their last name starts with the same letter. Its perfect! I told him that I “respect and dig Batman. Dude dedicates his life to helping people. He’s a guy I can really trust with all this fucked up shit in my brain. He’s been through a lot and I could see how he could understand the crap others have gone through. So let me pretend that your Batman Doc, and help me help you help me so I can get the fuck outta here.”
He told me he’s going to have to see me weekly for awhile.
Oh well. Guess its best I start off with the crazy so Batman knows what he’s in for.
Obviously, I call him Batman anyways. I mean not to his face, cause I don’t want him to like purposely fuck with me and mess my head up because I’m a dickhead who cant respect others or anything. But in my brain, I am having a hour long conversation with Batman about why I can’t seem to love who I see in the mirror or why I cant allow that person to be happy.
I don’t want to be a martyr. I don’t want to keep feeling sorry for myself. I don’t want to keep whining about shit to my friends and family. I don’t want to keep adding up all the shit in my past and giving myself an excuse to be miserable. I don’t want to miss out on anything because I cant get out of my bed or leave my house 3 out of the 7 days a week. I don’t want to worry about the shit hitting the fan and not being able to handle it. I don’t want this panic and worry and constant pressure to make everything around me ok when I cant even breathe. When did I become this? When did I become a person that doesn’t just open a busch light (with lemon) and say its all good? When did I become this person that I cant even stand?
Batman says that I have to stop putting myself last. I don’t even know how to do that. I don’t even know how that would work. But he says, you cant really help anyone until you help yourself first. He said “you know that speech the flight attendant gives before you take off? About how in case of an emergency and you need to use the oxygen mask?” I nodded and said yes. “well,” he said, “if you are traveling with a child or someone who cant help themselves do you aid them with their mask or put yours on first?” I immediately told him I would assist other people around me first, then help myself. “nope.” He said. “you always help yourself first. What good are you to others if you cant breathe?”
Batmans got a point.
This week my homework is to stop trying to control everything. Im supposed to look at everything I stress and worry about and really judge what is actually within my control and what isn’t. to see that maybe we worrying and freaking out isn’t helping, its hurting. I mean maybe it doesn’t help to call q at work and tell him i have a feeling that the house is going to burn down and maybe we need to build an escape route for the guinea pigs so they don’t burn up in the flames.
Maybe.
Dog, grant me the serenity.
My therapists name is Bruce. He won’t let me call him Batman. Not only do they have the same first name, their last name starts with the same letter. Its perfect! I told him that I “respect and dig Batman. Dude dedicates his life to helping people. He’s a guy I can really trust with all this fucked up shit in my brain. He’s been through a lot and I could see how he could understand the crap others have gone through. So let me pretend that your Batman Doc, and help me help you help me so I can get the fuck outta here.”
He told me he’s going to have to see me weekly for awhile.
Oh well. Guess its best I start off with the crazy so Batman knows what he’s in for.
Obviously, I call him Batman anyways. I mean not to his face, cause I don’t want him to like purposely fuck with me and mess my head up because I’m a dickhead who cant respect others or anything. But in my brain, I am having a hour long conversation with Batman about why I can’t seem to love who I see in the mirror or why I cant allow that person to be happy.
I don’t want to be a martyr. I don’t want to keep feeling sorry for myself. I don’t want to keep whining about shit to my friends and family. I don’t want to keep adding up all the shit in my past and giving myself an excuse to be miserable. I don’t want to miss out on anything because I cant get out of my bed or leave my house 3 out of the 7 days a week. I don’t want to worry about the shit hitting the fan and not being able to handle it. I don’t want this panic and worry and constant pressure to make everything around me ok when I cant even breathe. When did I become this? When did I become a person that doesn’t just open a busch light (with lemon) and say its all good? When did I become this person that I cant even stand?
Batman says that I have to stop putting myself last. I don’t even know how to do that. I don’t even know how that would work. But he says, you cant really help anyone until you help yourself first. He said “you know that speech the flight attendant gives before you take off? About how in case of an emergency and you need to use the oxygen mask?” I nodded and said yes. “well,” he said, “if you are traveling with a child or someone who cant help themselves do you aid them with their mask or put yours on first?” I immediately told him I would assist other people around me first, then help myself. “nope.” He said. “you always help yourself first. What good are you to others if you cant breathe?”
Batmans got a point.
This week my homework is to stop trying to control everything. Im supposed to look at everything I stress and worry about and really judge what is actually within my control and what isn’t. to see that maybe we worrying and freaking out isn’t helping, its hurting. I mean maybe it doesn’t help to call q at work and tell him i have a feeling that the house is going to burn down and maybe we need to build an escape route for the guinea pigs so they don’t burn up in the flames.
Maybe.
Dog, grant me the serenity.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
bustin out
When I was in 7th grade I got a training bra. I had no boobs. All the girls in my class and the two grades above me did. So I stuffed each side with a few cotton balls. Hey when in Rome and all that shit. Anyhow, one day at p.e. my class was playing basketball against an 8th grade class when one of my "boobs" fell out. The boy who was guarding me had long hair. The boy guarding me was cute. The boy guarding me said something fell out of your shirt. I stood there horrified as he picked up my "boob" and looked at it. It's warm he said. I turned bright red and scrambled for what to say. I told him my sister and I were wrestling that morning and she shoved a handful of cotton balls down my shirt. I must of missed some when I was taking them out. I said. He smiled, handed it to me and said, "its weird she taped them together. And drew a nipple on them."
Monday, March 14, 2011
Its not as easy as it sounds to get me to write on this thing. The funny part is I sit here and complain about how I want to be a writer as I sit and watch tv and drink beer all day and do nothing to actually become this writer. I mean I play on facebook but who gives a shit.
Ive decided its probably pretty important that I write in here like everyday or at least everyweek. It keeps people interested and then they care says q. I know this but at the same time I also don’t know if I have that much to say. According to quint not only do I have enough to say, but can I please write it to all of you instead of talking to him nonstop all day everyday. He says he has a job ya know. I say yeah I know but fuck, I mean, if you have two different phones you must expect to talk on them every once in a while. He says yes he does expect it but didn’t know it would be about how I found cat puke in the hallway or if he knows where the whiskey is. (he says it was 10 am and I drank it all the night before and I blamed him for drinking it all. Whatever how was I supposed to remember. I was drunk…duh.)
Recently I have been home a lot and thinking I should be on this thing typing away. That I should, instead of watching the same real housewives shows over and over again and memorizing the lines, (and calling quint to tell him all about what camile grammer said) sit down and write about the ultra fun day I had sitting still in my house watching the plants grow. But I think who the fuck cares about what I do. quint says I may as well make all of you as bored as I am. That and let him get his fucking work done.
Sigh. For the love of god I need a life. seriously the only place I go besides work is safeway.
But anyway, I have especially been home a lot these days because my dog Alabama had her acl repaired. Turns out she basically almost tore it in half. You know what? The healing time for this surgery is 12 weeks. Mother fucker. It is so annoying. I mean I get that this is probably worse for her than me but I mean come on….im the one who has to pay for it (1600$) and then take the time off to stare at her and stop this spunky 2 year old pitbull from wanting to play with her equally spunky 3 year old pitbull brother which basically puts me on house arrest. She gets to be babied and high all day. Poor her. How bad can it be? You know what? I will brake my knees right now if that’s the way this shit goes. Quint, go get the whiskey and a baseball bat.
Today was the first day since the surgery 5 days ago that I saw a bit of happiness in this dogs face. She has been depressed and sad. She hasn’t eaten and she is sick of being told not to play and being carried to and from the yard to pee and poo. I mean what the fuck? Does it look like im having fun with this? Give me a break. We got in the worst fight out in the yard last night around 3am.
“fucking shit already Alabama its pouring and im fucking tired.”
Dog looks the other direction and pretends Im not there.
“I will fucking leave you out here and you can sleep in the rain.”
Knowing this is a lie, dog continues to stare into the darkness and sighs loudly.
“come on! Wtf! You haven’t shit in like 3 days. It smells like a fucking sewer in the house your farting so much. Just fucking go already!”
Dog sees cat who came out to see what all the screaming was about and wags her tail. She looks up at me as if to say look mommy kitty is here, remembers what a bitch I am, stops wagging her tail, gives me the stink eye and goes back to staring into the fucking darkness.
So I changed my gears “please baby. Please just go poo honey. Mommy loves you.”
Dog decides this is a waste of her time and limps back into the house leaving my sorry ass in the yard screaming her name and swearing nonstop because my fucking shoe got stuck in the mud and came off when I went to go after her and I stepped in an old mushy pile of dog shit with my bare foot.
But of course.
Anyhow like I was saying she was a little better today. She even ate something. And I figured out the best way to get the 8,000 pills she has to take everyday down her throat is to coat them in butter and put them in her actual throat and hold her mouth closed until the mother fucking things go down. Oddly enough she wasn’t as upset about this as I would of thought because I think she was stoked that this time the huge antibiotic didn’t explode in her mouth and make her vomit as mommy swears about how she hates puke cause it makes her puke. Its a lot of fun here people, you should come over someday.
Anyhow I was allowed to actually get up and move without sneaking around afraid to wake her. I got the kitchen cleaned and even blasted some bon jovi and danced around the house. Bad part is this is when Alabama decided to take herself out the doggy door and play lets run laps around the slippery muddy yard and play tackle football with Joe.
God damn it.
Halfway through livin on a prayer I turned to sing to Alabama “take my hand and well make it I swear” when I realized she wasn’t there. I started running through the house calling her name. I couldn’t find her anywhere in the house and so I looked to see if I left the door open to the dogs room where the doggy door was. And yes of course I did. Why not. I mean why make my life easier. Holy shit the dog was outside by herself. I started to panic and ran outside and instantly slipped in an old gross pile of rotten pumpkin (yes from Halloween) and bent my wrist back.
I started swearing like a douche bag clutching my wrist and freaking out. the dogs froze in midplay and realizing mom was spazing out and decided to do the same. They started running towards me to get back into the house to hide when I realized the goddamn dog was RUNNING. Who runs 5 days after repairing their acl? What the fuck is wrong with this dog?
I reached out and grabbed her to stop her from my position on the ground when she suddenly JUMPED UP INTO THE AIR AND OVER ME AND LANDED ON THE GROUND LOSING HER FOOTING AND SMASHING HER FACE INTO THE CONCRETE AND SCREAMING LIKE AN INSAIN APE BECAUSE, AS IT TURNS OUT, WHEN I GRABBED AT HER, I GRABBED HER BAD LEG AND IT WAS STILL IN MY FUCKING HAND.
Ladies and gentleman, Molly Andrae. Dog owner of the year.
Im a dick. The dog was screaming and trying to get away from me as I scrambled and slipped on the pumpkin guts to get up and get her to calm down. Oh fuck oh fuck was all I could think. Did I tear her leg off? I mean did I ruin her fucking knee? How am I supposed to know? What the fuck do I do?
I picked up the dog and hurried inside. Somehow, thank god, I didn’t trip or have a heart attack or anything and got the dog inside and laid her down. She was panting like a dog in heat and I knew she was in pain. I ruined it, I had to of.
I called the vet and explained what happened. She was silent for what seemed like 5 minutes. Im not kidding. I had to say hello? And look at my phone because I though I lost connection.
“um, well,” the vet finally said “lets just give her a couple minutes. Give her another tramadol and we will see where shes at in a bit. Call me in a half hour and let me know how she is. And please, molly, relax. Im sure its not as bad as it seems.”
Easy for her to say I thought and drugged up the dog. But she was right after about 10 minutes the dog seemed fine. I mean except for the fact that if I came near her she trembled and shyed away like I was going to beat her.
Its now been a good couple hours since the “incident” and im assuming we are all good since she just tried to run on it again. Who knows, guess we shall see. As for now I think im gonna drink a 12 pack, cry and let q take the fuck over.
Maddog out.
Ive decided its probably pretty important that I write in here like everyday or at least everyweek. It keeps people interested and then they care says q. I know this but at the same time I also don’t know if I have that much to say. According to quint not only do I have enough to say, but can I please write it to all of you instead of talking to him nonstop all day everyday. He says he has a job ya know. I say yeah I know but fuck, I mean, if you have two different phones you must expect to talk on them every once in a while. He says yes he does expect it but didn’t know it would be about how I found cat puke in the hallway or if he knows where the whiskey is. (he says it was 10 am and I drank it all the night before and I blamed him for drinking it all. Whatever how was I supposed to remember. I was drunk…duh.)
Recently I have been home a lot and thinking I should be on this thing typing away. That I should, instead of watching the same real housewives shows over and over again and memorizing the lines, (and calling quint to tell him all about what camile grammer said) sit down and write about the ultra fun day I had sitting still in my house watching the plants grow. But I think who the fuck cares about what I do. quint says I may as well make all of you as bored as I am. That and let him get his fucking work done.
Sigh. For the love of god I need a life. seriously the only place I go besides work is safeway.
But anyway, I have especially been home a lot these days because my dog Alabama had her acl repaired. Turns out she basically almost tore it in half. You know what? The healing time for this surgery is 12 weeks. Mother fucker. It is so annoying. I mean I get that this is probably worse for her than me but I mean come on….im the one who has to pay for it (1600$) and then take the time off to stare at her and stop this spunky 2 year old pitbull from wanting to play with her equally spunky 3 year old pitbull brother which basically puts me on house arrest. She gets to be babied and high all day. Poor her. How bad can it be? You know what? I will brake my knees right now if that’s the way this shit goes. Quint, go get the whiskey and a baseball bat.
Today was the first day since the surgery 5 days ago that I saw a bit of happiness in this dogs face. She has been depressed and sad. She hasn’t eaten and she is sick of being told not to play and being carried to and from the yard to pee and poo. I mean what the fuck? Does it look like im having fun with this? Give me a break. We got in the worst fight out in the yard last night around 3am.
“fucking shit already Alabama its pouring and im fucking tired.”
Dog looks the other direction and pretends Im not there.
“I will fucking leave you out here and you can sleep in the rain.”
Knowing this is a lie, dog continues to stare into the darkness and sighs loudly.
“come on! Wtf! You haven’t shit in like 3 days. It smells like a fucking sewer in the house your farting so much. Just fucking go already!”
Dog sees cat who came out to see what all the screaming was about and wags her tail. She looks up at me as if to say look mommy kitty is here, remembers what a bitch I am, stops wagging her tail, gives me the stink eye and goes back to staring into the fucking darkness.
So I changed my gears “please baby. Please just go poo honey. Mommy loves you.”
Dog decides this is a waste of her time and limps back into the house leaving my sorry ass in the yard screaming her name and swearing nonstop because my fucking shoe got stuck in the mud and came off when I went to go after her and I stepped in an old mushy pile of dog shit with my bare foot.
But of course.
Anyhow like I was saying she was a little better today. She even ate something. And I figured out the best way to get the 8,000 pills she has to take everyday down her throat is to coat them in butter and put them in her actual throat and hold her mouth closed until the mother fucking things go down. Oddly enough she wasn’t as upset about this as I would of thought because I think she was stoked that this time the huge antibiotic didn’t explode in her mouth and make her vomit as mommy swears about how she hates puke cause it makes her puke. Its a lot of fun here people, you should come over someday.
Anyhow I was allowed to actually get up and move without sneaking around afraid to wake her. I got the kitchen cleaned and even blasted some bon jovi and danced around the house. Bad part is this is when Alabama decided to take herself out the doggy door and play lets run laps around the slippery muddy yard and play tackle football with Joe.
God damn it.
Halfway through livin on a prayer I turned to sing to Alabama “take my hand and well make it I swear” when I realized she wasn’t there. I started running through the house calling her name. I couldn’t find her anywhere in the house and so I looked to see if I left the door open to the dogs room where the doggy door was. And yes of course I did. Why not. I mean why make my life easier. Holy shit the dog was outside by herself. I started to panic and ran outside and instantly slipped in an old gross pile of rotten pumpkin (yes from Halloween) and bent my wrist back.
I started swearing like a douche bag clutching my wrist and freaking out. the dogs froze in midplay and realizing mom was spazing out and decided to do the same. They started running towards me to get back into the house to hide when I realized the goddamn dog was RUNNING. Who runs 5 days after repairing their acl? What the fuck is wrong with this dog?
I reached out and grabbed her to stop her from my position on the ground when she suddenly JUMPED UP INTO THE AIR AND OVER ME AND LANDED ON THE GROUND LOSING HER FOOTING AND SMASHING HER FACE INTO THE CONCRETE AND SCREAMING LIKE AN INSAIN APE BECAUSE, AS IT TURNS OUT, WHEN I GRABBED AT HER, I GRABBED HER BAD LEG AND IT WAS STILL IN MY FUCKING HAND.
Ladies and gentleman, Molly Andrae. Dog owner of the year.
Im a dick. The dog was screaming and trying to get away from me as I scrambled and slipped on the pumpkin guts to get up and get her to calm down. Oh fuck oh fuck was all I could think. Did I tear her leg off? I mean did I ruin her fucking knee? How am I supposed to know? What the fuck do I do?
I picked up the dog and hurried inside. Somehow, thank god, I didn’t trip or have a heart attack or anything and got the dog inside and laid her down. She was panting like a dog in heat and I knew she was in pain. I ruined it, I had to of.
I called the vet and explained what happened. She was silent for what seemed like 5 minutes. Im not kidding. I had to say hello? And look at my phone because I though I lost connection.
“um, well,” the vet finally said “lets just give her a couple minutes. Give her another tramadol and we will see where shes at in a bit. Call me in a half hour and let me know how she is. And please, molly, relax. Im sure its not as bad as it seems.”
Easy for her to say I thought and drugged up the dog. But she was right after about 10 minutes the dog seemed fine. I mean except for the fact that if I came near her she trembled and shyed away like I was going to beat her.
Its now been a good couple hours since the “incident” and im assuming we are all good since she just tried to run on it again. Who knows, guess we shall see. As for now I think im gonna drink a 12 pack, cry and let q take the fuck over.
Maddog out.
Friday, March 4, 2011
this happend a couple days ago and i couldnt write it then i was too drunk
I'm having one of those days were you wish you never got out of bed.....you know the kind. The kind where your alarm goes off so you reach to turn it off and fall off the bed cause the dogs and husband are taking up all the room and the 6 inches you had to sleep in just couldn't hold ya forever. Then when you turn off the Fucking alarm you accidentally drop you new cell phone and send pieces everywhere including the battery into a glass of water you kept by your bedside cause you've had a sore throat for 3 days and it keeps you up all night. Oh did I mention when battery lands in water glass it spills glass and breaks it? No? Well it Fucking did. and while picking pieces of broken glass up you cut your finger and instantly shove finger in mouth to stop bleeding forgetting glass was in it and cutting your tongue. Finally when you get to the bathroom you go to pee but husband left seat up with pee in it cause he didn't want to flush it and make his shower water cold so you splash into pee water and swear swear swear swear. Then while cleaning off piss ass use husbands towel on purpose to be mean. Haha then onto kitchen to feed dogs who refuse to eat unless food is organic and expensive then snub nose at this also because they don't like it anymore and you beg them to eat cause your running late but they decide to not get out of bed cause of all the f bombs being thrown around all morning so feeling guilty you give them cookies which they eat then one vomits them up on your bed. Husband laughs at silly cute dogs on his way out door as you vow to later stab him. Seeing you are running late you clean vomit gag a lot and cry get washed up only to find that pee towel is only towel left. Cry some more and go to get dressed and rip hole in crotch of pants....again. being that you've gained 10 lbs recently and are about to start period you realize you have no pants to wear that you git into and shove gross pee ass into tight jeans and cry some more at growing muffin top. Go to get rags for work out of dryer only to realize never turned mother fucking god damn dryer on so rags are soaking wet still. Swear swear swear some more and go to call client to say running late as you remember phone doesnt wk cause it needs to dry out. Fuck Fuck Fuck. So you set dryer and pray client isn't home to see you get there so late. you go to hurry and put on make up and see dog eating mascara. Cry swear cry some more. Go to make coffee none left cause husband didnt tell you we were out so have to drink plain Fucking water instead and then you sit down to watch some tv before wk while waiting for dryer when you realize your fat ass just sat in another pile of vomit this one from useless cat. More swearing dogs nowhere to be seen due to fear of f word. change pants, clean vomit while gagging and put on tighter more useless jeans and sit on floor and cry. Remembering you forgot to clean guinea pig cage you get up and tend to them while they chatter at you and squeal. Slightly happier you pick one up to kiss it and it bites your finger like blood hungry animal and you drop guinea pig on ground next to dogs who came back in when the swearing stopped. Scrambling to save asshole pig you trip over dog and hit head on wall on way down and lay there cursing and wishing dogs would eat pig then go play in heavy traffic. Instead dogs run away at screaming swearing phyco you. you capture shitty asshole guinea pig and finish the job while crying. As dryer is still going you lay down to relax but with no blanket cause it got vomited on and freeze cause even though you pay 220$ a month for heat its always Fucking cold and accidentally fall asleep waking up an hour later. holy shit holy shit you yell as you Hurry hurry out door get half way remember forgot rags. For the love of god are you Fucking kidding me. head back home get rags. Speed off to work and get there 2 and a half hours late. Client is home. Remarks at how this has become a habit and she is letting you go. Say sorry but no use. Says she tried to call and I didn't answer. Then remember phone incident and tell client. Doesn't care your fired. As you leave you decide to go to a bar cause Fuck it why not. Order drink and period starts. Mother fuck. Go out to car search for tampon. Find smashed scary one but is all you have so let's make this count. Can't get it to come out of cardboard applicator. Shit god damn it. Instead put wad of toilet paper in underwear and decide to go home. Go to pay tab card declined. How is that possible. You have lots of money. Not my problem says bartender. Thank god nice old man pays tab as you start trying to sell wedding ring to bartender. Think what a bitch its only a 2$ pabst. Remember payed mortgage and forgot to go to bank. Fuck shit Fuck. Checks are at home.....tampons too. head home and lock doors to car as part of new habits husband is forcing on you because you always leave things in car doors unlocked. Yep, and this time its your keys. Sigh. Climb fence and start crawling through doggy door as your dog shoves his nose up your ass to smell what's going on. Fuck off pervert you yell and kick backwards missing dog and kicking two by four used to hold up roof hard and knock it loose. Oh my god. You hurry to push two by four back in place only to remember your not superman and two by four falls as porch roof collapses down a few more feet. Oops. Fuck it. Go back through doggy door and go to bathroom. Girl duties Done. Whew. Change pants into comfy ugly bell bottom fat girl sweats and turn on tv. Oh shit. My keys. Scramble through drawers to find spare. None. Maybe under pot outside. Who knows. Go out door and close behind you locking you out. Come on. No key under pot. Jump mother Fucking fence again and swear at dog threatening it to stay outta your ass and praying the porch roof doesn't collapse on you as you re go through doggy door. As you get up you trip on giant bell bottom fat girl sweats and fall into dogs water bowl sending water everywhere. Shit shit shiit. Can only find wet piss towel. Think where the Fuck are all my towels? Jesus. At least you remember all the dry rags in car and go outside and almost close door remembering last minute by sticking hand in and getting cut bit finger slammed on. Swear a lot and then remember useless cause car is locked anyhow. Go inside, use dry clothes to soak up water. Put phone back together see of you can call husband to find spare keys. It works! Phone works! Call husband. No answer. Lots of messages. You Listen to them. angry client and husband. Husband wants to know why the debit card is declined. Shit. You say I need to go to the bank as you grab checks and walk out front door slamming it behind you.
5 hours later when husband gets home he finds you drunk on freezer burnt 3 yr old jaeger singing songs in bathroom while laying in the empty tub. Spare keys, it turns out, are tapped to doggy door.
Yay.
5 hours later when husband gets home he finds you drunk on freezer burnt 3 yr old jaeger singing songs in bathroom while laying in the empty tub. Spare keys, it turns out, are tapped to doggy door.
Yay.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
I don’t know what I did to my computer. I cant make it not be on this fat letter style. I am afraid to press too many buttons to figure it out because im afraid I will get it stuck on something or break it and Q isn’t here to help me figure it out. Things just keep happening. Like accidentally it keeps jumping down a page, or makes squiggley lines under certain words. Why am I so retarded? I don’t understand computers at all. I wonder if when I go to actually post this if it will be fat lettered…….so exciting.
J
Anyhow its kind of perfect that its fat lettered because this story is a about fatness, happy fatness.
So Today I ran into this gal I haven’t seen in a long time. After a bunch of hi’s and how are you’s she said “you look great Molly. Have you lost weight?”
What the fuck? I thought. Is she being serious? I mean A. im on my period and my face is all puffy and my stomach is pooching out like im preggo. B. I have actually gained 10lbs in the last year and C. what the hell did I look like before? WHATEVER.
bitch.
So after I decide to literally say all that, except the bitch part, she blushed looked at her non-ringing phone and said “I have to take this, good seeing you again.” And walked away.
Go period!
WHATEVER.(whoops, Sorry caps lock.)
Whatever, she deserved it .welllllll maybe not but Its not my fault. I have been noticing that ive packed on a couple (10) pounds and ive asked people over and over again if its obvious and they always say no.
Quinty poo poo is the worst.
“but my pants don’t fit.” I said the other day while trying to pull up my pants.
“sure they do.” Said q slapping my ass.
“no seriously babe, I cant pull them up all the way.”
“I think you look good honey.”
“um, thanks but im not asking that im asking you if its obvious ive gained weight. I mean look, is this a muffin top?”
“no, your just picking yourself apart you look great. Your beautiful honey. You know what? I think those pants shrunk.”
“huh. Ya think?”
“defiantly honey. you look no different to me. In fact I think you look perfect.”
I smiled and said “you know what babe, your right. I did dry them, I don’t usually. I bet they did shrink!” As I stuffed my face with my third donut.
Damn him.
He has allowed me to live in denial and look what I have become. A happy little fat girl squeezing herself into jeans too small and walking around like they fit cause q says im pretty. Is it that easy? i mean complement anyone and they will start to believe it after awhile right?
Wait is this such a bad thing?
i mean I am a lot happier than I have been in along time. The last 5 yrs have kicked my ass and pushed me to my limit. but its all good now. These days, everyday passes without incident and ive been able to sleep again with out constant nightmares and anxiety attacks. I can eat without gagging and I can sit still without bouncing off the walls. So fuck it. Ill take the muffin top over stress and bullshit anyday. Maybe its that when your happy you just look damn good. My smile just must be covering my giant new muffin top.
I mean my mouth is pretty big.
J
Anyhow its kind of perfect that its fat lettered because this story is a about fatness, happy fatness.
So Today I ran into this gal I haven’t seen in a long time. After a bunch of hi’s and how are you’s she said “you look great Molly. Have you lost weight?”
What the fuck? I thought. Is she being serious? I mean A. im on my period and my face is all puffy and my stomach is pooching out like im preggo. B. I have actually gained 10lbs in the last year and C. what the hell did I look like before? WHATEVER.
bitch.
So after I decide to literally say all that, except the bitch part, she blushed looked at her non-ringing phone and said “I have to take this, good seeing you again.” And walked away.
Go period!
WHATEVER.(whoops, Sorry caps lock.)
Whatever, she deserved it .welllllll maybe not but Its not my fault. I have been noticing that ive packed on a couple (10) pounds and ive asked people over and over again if its obvious and they always say no.
Quinty poo poo is the worst.
“but my pants don’t fit.” I said the other day while trying to pull up my pants.
“sure they do.” Said q slapping my ass.
“no seriously babe, I cant pull them up all the way.”
“I think you look good honey.”
“um, thanks but im not asking that im asking you if its obvious ive gained weight. I mean look, is this a muffin top?”
“no, your just picking yourself apart you look great. Your beautiful honey. You know what? I think those pants shrunk.”
“huh. Ya think?”
“defiantly honey. you look no different to me. In fact I think you look perfect.”
I smiled and said “you know what babe, your right. I did dry them, I don’t usually. I bet they did shrink!” As I stuffed my face with my third donut.
Damn him.
He has allowed me to live in denial and look what I have become. A happy little fat girl squeezing herself into jeans too small and walking around like they fit cause q says im pretty. Is it that easy? i mean complement anyone and they will start to believe it after awhile right?
Wait is this such a bad thing?
i mean I am a lot happier than I have been in along time. The last 5 yrs have kicked my ass and pushed me to my limit. but its all good now. These days, everyday passes without incident and ive been able to sleep again with out constant nightmares and anxiety attacks. I can eat without gagging and I can sit still without bouncing off the walls. So fuck it. Ill take the muffin top over stress and bullshit anyday. Maybe its that when your happy you just look damn good. My smile just must be covering my giant new muffin top.
I mean my mouth is pretty big.
Friday, January 28, 2011
i got a computer
I got a computer
Im on my way!
Someday ill be famous
Someday ill be gay!
(as in happy calm down.)
Someday ill be cool
Typing with my latte
Sitting at the starbucks
And pretending im happy.
(as in gay calm down.)
Ill keep up on my emails
When I remember my password
And ill learn what the fuck pdf means
Just like all you I T nerds.
(q said those are computer people)
I cant wait to get started!
Ill go “surfing” everyday
So hang 10 mother fuckers!
Cause mad dog has a shitload to say!
Oh yeah and its mostly misspelled swear words like fuck shit piss cunt bitch asshole douche bag and banerkner. And if you don’t know what the word means look at the context. Dumbass.
Yay. I got a computer.
Thanks jen. xo
Im on my way!
Someday ill be famous
Someday ill be gay!
(as in happy calm down.)
Someday ill be cool
Typing with my latte
Sitting at the starbucks
And pretending im happy.
(as in gay calm down.)
Ill keep up on my emails
When I remember my password
And ill learn what the fuck pdf means
Just like all you I T nerds.
(q said those are computer people)
I cant wait to get started!
Ill go “surfing” everyday
So hang 10 mother fuckers!
Cause mad dog has a shitload to say!
Oh yeah and its mostly misspelled swear words like fuck shit piss cunt bitch asshole douche bag and banerkner. And if you don’t know what the word means look at the context. Dumbass.
Yay. I got a computer.
Thanks jen. xo
Monday, January 3, 2011
The Tale of Two Turds and a Lolly Pop
Once apon a time I decided to take up skipping. I'm sure at my old age I look like an idiot but it makes me smile and not be rude to unsuspecting strangers, or Quint. And that's one of my new years resolutions; don't be so rude, Molly.
"Whatever gets your goose." Q said when I announced my new pass time.
"what does that mean." I asked.
"What does what mean."
"Get your goose."
"I don't know. Like whatever makes you happy. Whatever gets ya through the day."
"God that's stupid and it doesn't make sense. Why would I have a goose? Why is getting it so good?"
"Wow. It's just a saying. Jesus Molly. Maybe you should go skip some more grumpy."
Ok so maybe it doesn't work all the time.
But I'm trying and that's the point right? My other resolutions were don't talk to banerkners, stay away from drama and no fast food till Feb. Broke every single one on the first, but it wasn't my fault. Bremerton is a pack of banerkners waiting to pounce. And I was super drunk, and I was skipping so i thought all was good and right with the world. Nope. I ran into a giant drama banerkner and spoke to it. So I had to to make q take me to jack in the box and drown my tears in curly fries and ranch dressing. Sigh. Oh well. God didn't invent tomorrow for nothing. It's a bright new shiney do over. Yay!
So today was my put new years resolutions into affect day take two.(i couldnt on Sunday cause I was too hung over so that day didn't count.) I actually woke up on time today and I didn't even complain to q that we had no sugar for the coffee even though I put it on his fucking grocery list yester-fucking-day. I just smiled, skipped to the bathroom and screamed into a towel.:-) yay! I wasn't rude. Plus I didnt honk my horn once on my way to work. I felt bad for not paying it any attention though so I honked it a couple times when I got to wk just to remind him I loved him. And I do. The car horn is the best invention ever. Besides frying pans.
I was full of smiles and good intentions when I opened the door to the house i was about to clean. Shit, I was even on time today. So far today was A+.
When I got inside I put down my vacuum and cleaning stuff and took off my coat. I went to hang it in the closet when i saw something strange on the floor.
"What is that?" I said. As I reached down my hand.
You would think I knew better. I mean my dad always told us to look with our eyes not with our hands. But I never listened then so why start now?
It was poo. It was a long thick turd. And it took me a few seconds and a sniff to figure it out too. (I'm really not a morning person and they have those lights that take like a minute to get bright after you turn them on. So I couldnt see and q didnt buy sugar remember? so I hadn't had coffee...so fuck, its not my fault.)
I screamed, threw it down and ran for the bathroom. Problem is I stepped into the turd I threw down on my way.
"Motherfucker." I said and took off my shoe. I started to chant swear words when I remembered that today was good day number one of the beginning of my new good mood Molly year. So I took off my other shoe to even me out and skipped to the bathroom to wash off the poopy.
It seemed like the bathroom smelled weird.
Cautious, due to the turd touching, I slowly scanned the room before entering.
What was that smell? I thought as I looked around.
Why can't I place it?
I don't see anything weird.
Maybe I'm just paranoid.
So I stepped in and went to work cleaning my shoe. It slowly started to register to me that the smell was horribly disgusting. Like holy god gut wretching. While I ran my shoe under the bathtub tap I scanned the room again. I noticed that there was water all around the toilet.
Wtf? I got up from the tubs edge and walked to the toilet. There inside was a bunch of diarrhea, a couple normal turds, lots of toilet paper and a red lolly pop.
"Weird." I thought as I flushed the toilet. Well that answered the smell.......and oh Jesus, was that the poo on my shoe? Wait, no...I mean how would it of gotten out?
It was then that Tricksy the 1 year old happy gigantic golden retriever came bounding into the room to see me.
Or at least I thought it was to see me.
She went straight for the toilet and dunked her head in.
"Hey Tricksy no! It's not flushed all the way!"
I grabbed at her collar and pulled out her head. She looked at me and in her mouth was a giant glob of poo, a bit of tp and the red lolly pop.
I gagged and ran from her down the hall. I couldn't talk cause I was so close to puking. I was waving my arms like mad and gagging and jumping up and down like I was on fire. It was so Fucking gross. "DROP IT!" I gagged screamed.
But Tricksy didn't drop it and my crazy rain dance thing had drawn her attention to me and when I looked down at her to see if she had listened, there she was 6 inches from me wagging her tail, poo still in mouth.(lolly too.)
I froze. I froze because I have been around dogs my whole life and I knew that look in her eyes. Tricksy wanted to play.
She lept up at me and started to try to grab at my shirt to play tug o war. Unfortunately the poo was still in her mouth, what she used for grabbing, and so I was leaping away like mad gagging and trying to smack her away at the same time. Tricksy thought this was great fun.
"Get off! " I gagged."go lay fucking down!"
I shoved at her hard and jumped back right into a counter. It smacked me in the small of my back hard and I fell to the floor.
I thought I was gonna pass out it hurt so bad. I was laying there in pain when I heard a plop on the floor next to my face.
Oh god no.
I opened my eyes and there was a large wet piece of mother Fucking people shit with a red lolly pop stuck to it inches from my face.
I instantly got pissed. I was in pain and so grossed out. I gagged and said "BAD DOG!" Tricksy, the loving sweet pup she was, lowered her head and licked my face.
I screamed. And somehow I got up and ran to the bathroom. I grabbed the soap and slathered my face like frosting a cake. I couldn't use enough soap.
I was gross. I had people poo on my face. I would never be clean again.
I washed my face for like 10 minutes. I was gross, crying,and Fucking over it already. It was then I realized I left the bathtub running. My shoe was soaked. There was poo pieces all over the tub. I cryed harder, rinsed out the tub and went to grab my other shoe.
But my shoe was gone. And I could only guess who had it.
"Come here Tricksy." I said trying to control my voice.
Tricksy came bounding around the corner with my shoe.
"Drop it." I said.
And miraculously, she did.
I picked it up and headed for the door. I grabbed a plastic bag from the utility room for my shoes and shoved them in. Then I grabbed my coat, my vacuum and my supplies and Fucking left.
I called the owner when I got home and explained my morning. She apologized then offered to pay me double if I went back. I politly declined.
Oh did I mention what was in my shoe?
I will never eat a lolly pop again.
And fuck skipping.
"Whatever gets your goose." Q said when I announced my new pass time.
"what does that mean." I asked.
"What does what mean."
"Get your goose."
"I don't know. Like whatever makes you happy. Whatever gets ya through the day."
"God that's stupid and it doesn't make sense. Why would I have a goose? Why is getting it so good?"
"Wow. It's just a saying. Jesus Molly. Maybe you should go skip some more grumpy."
Ok so maybe it doesn't work all the time.
But I'm trying and that's the point right? My other resolutions were don't talk to banerkners, stay away from drama and no fast food till Feb. Broke every single one on the first, but it wasn't my fault. Bremerton is a pack of banerkners waiting to pounce. And I was super drunk, and I was skipping so i thought all was good and right with the world. Nope. I ran into a giant drama banerkner and spoke to it. So I had to to make q take me to jack in the box and drown my tears in curly fries and ranch dressing. Sigh. Oh well. God didn't invent tomorrow for nothing. It's a bright new shiney do over. Yay!
So today was my put new years resolutions into affect day take two.(i couldnt on Sunday cause I was too hung over so that day didn't count.) I actually woke up on time today and I didn't even complain to q that we had no sugar for the coffee even though I put it on his fucking grocery list yester-fucking-day. I just smiled, skipped to the bathroom and screamed into a towel.:-) yay! I wasn't rude. Plus I didnt honk my horn once on my way to work. I felt bad for not paying it any attention though so I honked it a couple times when I got to wk just to remind him I loved him. And I do. The car horn is the best invention ever. Besides frying pans.
I was full of smiles and good intentions when I opened the door to the house i was about to clean. Shit, I was even on time today. So far today was A+.
When I got inside I put down my vacuum and cleaning stuff and took off my coat. I went to hang it in the closet when i saw something strange on the floor.
"What is that?" I said. As I reached down my hand.
You would think I knew better. I mean my dad always told us to look with our eyes not with our hands. But I never listened then so why start now?
It was poo. It was a long thick turd. And it took me a few seconds and a sniff to figure it out too. (I'm really not a morning person and they have those lights that take like a minute to get bright after you turn them on. So I couldnt see and q didnt buy sugar remember? so I hadn't had coffee...so fuck, its not my fault.)
I screamed, threw it down and ran for the bathroom. Problem is I stepped into the turd I threw down on my way.
"Motherfucker." I said and took off my shoe. I started to chant swear words when I remembered that today was good day number one of the beginning of my new good mood Molly year. So I took off my other shoe to even me out and skipped to the bathroom to wash off the poopy.
It seemed like the bathroom smelled weird.
Cautious, due to the turd touching, I slowly scanned the room before entering.
What was that smell? I thought as I looked around.
Why can't I place it?
I don't see anything weird.
Maybe I'm just paranoid.
So I stepped in and went to work cleaning my shoe. It slowly started to register to me that the smell was horribly disgusting. Like holy god gut wretching. While I ran my shoe under the bathtub tap I scanned the room again. I noticed that there was water all around the toilet.
Wtf? I got up from the tubs edge and walked to the toilet. There inside was a bunch of diarrhea, a couple normal turds, lots of toilet paper and a red lolly pop.
"Weird." I thought as I flushed the toilet. Well that answered the smell.......and oh Jesus, was that the poo on my shoe? Wait, no...I mean how would it of gotten out?
It was then that Tricksy the 1 year old happy gigantic golden retriever came bounding into the room to see me.
Or at least I thought it was to see me.
She went straight for the toilet and dunked her head in.
"Hey Tricksy no! It's not flushed all the way!"
I grabbed at her collar and pulled out her head. She looked at me and in her mouth was a giant glob of poo, a bit of tp and the red lolly pop.
I gagged and ran from her down the hall. I couldn't talk cause I was so close to puking. I was waving my arms like mad and gagging and jumping up and down like I was on fire. It was so Fucking gross. "DROP IT!" I gagged screamed.
But Tricksy didn't drop it and my crazy rain dance thing had drawn her attention to me and when I looked down at her to see if she had listened, there she was 6 inches from me wagging her tail, poo still in mouth.(lolly too.)
I froze. I froze because I have been around dogs my whole life and I knew that look in her eyes. Tricksy wanted to play.
She lept up at me and started to try to grab at my shirt to play tug o war. Unfortunately the poo was still in her mouth, what she used for grabbing, and so I was leaping away like mad gagging and trying to smack her away at the same time. Tricksy thought this was great fun.
"Get off! " I gagged."go lay fucking down!"
I shoved at her hard and jumped back right into a counter. It smacked me in the small of my back hard and I fell to the floor.
I thought I was gonna pass out it hurt so bad. I was laying there in pain when I heard a plop on the floor next to my face.
Oh god no.
I opened my eyes and there was a large wet piece of mother Fucking people shit with a red lolly pop stuck to it inches from my face.
I instantly got pissed. I was in pain and so grossed out. I gagged and said "BAD DOG!" Tricksy, the loving sweet pup she was, lowered her head and licked my face.
I screamed. And somehow I got up and ran to the bathroom. I grabbed the soap and slathered my face like frosting a cake. I couldn't use enough soap.
I was gross. I had people poo on my face. I would never be clean again.
I washed my face for like 10 minutes. I was gross, crying,and Fucking over it already. It was then I realized I left the bathtub running. My shoe was soaked. There was poo pieces all over the tub. I cryed harder, rinsed out the tub and went to grab my other shoe.
But my shoe was gone. And I could only guess who had it.
"Come here Tricksy." I said trying to control my voice.
Tricksy came bounding around the corner with my shoe.
"Drop it." I said.
And miraculously, she did.
I picked it up and headed for the door. I grabbed a plastic bag from the utility room for my shoes and shoved them in. Then I grabbed my coat, my vacuum and my supplies and Fucking left.
I called the owner when I got home and explained my morning. She apologized then offered to pay me double if I went back. I politly declined.
Oh did I mention what was in my shoe?
I will never eat a lolly pop again.
And fuck skipping.
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