I just put the pitcher of Kool-aid...
...back in the fridge. It was empty. I poured the last of it into my glass and put the empty pitcher back in the refrigerator. Now, this is living.
I even drink milk straight out of the carton. This evening when I was making dinner I was too hungry to wait for it to cook so I made a bunch of peanut butter and jam crackers and washed them down with a gallon of milk. I didn’t drink the entire gallon, but I did suck down quite a bit of it. These are some of my favorite things. Oh, I like cereal too. Right now I have the good stuff, Cap’n Crunch, Froot Loops, Cocoa Puffs and Fruity Pebbles. I love this freedom crap.
I even leave the lid off the toothpaste and I don’t care.
I put onions in food and laugh out loud when I do it. There’s no jugheaded little brat whining about the mushrooms either. If I want a stuffed artichoke for dinner, then I eat a damned stuffed artichoke. I’m just giddy here.
I don’t want to paint my bedroom pink but I could if I wanted to. I get the best pillows and absolute power over the remote control. This is pretty cool, actually.
There are days when I wake up in my jammies and go to bed in the very same jammies and nobody knows the difference. All I need is a block of cheese and I could be as happy as Costanza in his messy apartment.
The toilet lid is always down so I never get those middle of the night Cold and Low’s that I was subjected to when Rick had access to my facilities. Somewhere about halfway, I just go on faith that the toilet seat is where I left it and when it’s not, I hit that sucker pretty hard because I’ve already given into the momentum of gravity instead of my own purposeful movement.
What’s wrong with you guys? Why can’t you just put the damn thing back down again? If you can get it up in the first place, you ought to be able to bend your ass over and put it back down. I like to leave as few traces of myself in the bathroom as humanly possible. I would think that pride alone would get you to put that bastard back down where you found it. And to the guys who have given up and just leave the thing down all the time...if you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweetie and wipe the seatie.
Ah, not to fall into the toilet at 2:49 am. Life truly is sweet.
Well, it’s another weekend...and you know what that means...people somewhere are doing yard work.
Suckers.
I’m growing this semi-tropical waste land out in my yard. With any luck at all, wild animals will take up residence and then I’ll have a small zoo.
I’ll charge the neighborhood kids to come in and see the beaver dam where the hose has been leaking for about a year. As it is, every bird in Marietta lives out there so the aviary is about done. There’s some bamboo growing along the fence, maybe a stray panda will show up and decide that my yard is a great place to hide from large predators. I’m not sure what eats crab grass, but I’m ready for that animal too. Maybe a nice little billy goat would be happy out there.
I already have lizards, and that just drives me insane. Just knowing that there are lizards crawling all over my house is enough to make me hammer the windows shut like the final scene in The Birds. When I leave my house, I quietly take little steps out there until I get to the walkway and then I run straight for the car and get the hell out of dodge.
I am having to kill spiders on my own which is awful. I grab them with a handful of paper towels so that I can’t feel the crunch and then I run, screaming, into the bathroom and flush that sucker down the toilet.
Once, I threw pans of boiling water into the bathroom to get a wasp that had decided that he needed some deodorant or something. It took three pots of boiling water to get that bastard down and then I threw towels on it and the giant puddle of water. Later, when I went back and picked up the towels, that thing was gone. I never did find it. It’s in this house somewhere, but I don’t know where.
When I do move from this place, I’ll have to let all the crap in the attic go with the house. I have no intention of going up into that bat’s nest. I hear scratching sounds up there and I think that they’re chipmunks but I don’t want to come into contact with any house aliens. I’ll let someone go get my Christmas ornaments, but the rest of that stuff can stay.
Well, it’s early morning and I’m still in my jammies. I’m gonna see how long I can stay in them. I think I’ll watch Thelma and Louise and Steel Magnolia’s now.
See ya,
Meg
...back in the fridge. It was empty. I poured the last of it into my glass and put the empty pitcher back in the refrigerator. Now, this is living.
I even drink milk straight out of the carton. This evening when I was making dinner I was too hungry to wait for it to cook so I made a bunch of peanut butter and jam crackers and washed them down with a gallon of milk. I didn’t drink the entire gallon, but I did suck down quite a bit of it. These are some of my favorite things. Oh, I like cereal too. Right now I have the good stuff, Cap’n Crunch, Froot Loops, Cocoa Puffs and Fruity Pebbles. I love this freedom crap.
I even leave the lid off the toothpaste and I don’t care.
I put onions in food and laugh out loud when I do it. There’s no jugheaded little brat whining about the mushrooms either. If I want a stuffed artichoke for dinner, then I eat a damned stuffed artichoke. I’m just giddy here.
I don’t want to paint my bedroom pink but I could if I wanted to. I get the best pillows and absolute power over the remote control. This is pretty cool, actually.
There are days when I wake up in my jammies and go to bed in the very same jammies and nobody knows the difference. All I need is a block of cheese and I could be as happy as Costanza in his messy apartment.
The toilet lid is always down so I never get those middle of the night Cold and Low’s that I was subjected to when Rick had access to my facilities. Somewhere about halfway, I just go on faith that the toilet seat is where I left it and when it’s not, I hit that sucker pretty hard because I’ve already given into the momentum of gravity instead of my own purposeful movement.
What’s wrong with you guys? Why can’t you just put the damn thing back down again? If you can get it up in the first place, you ought to be able to bend your ass over and put it back down. I like to leave as few traces of myself in the bathroom as humanly possible. I would think that pride alone would get you to put that bastard back down where you found it. And to the guys who have given up and just leave the thing down all the time...if you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweetie and wipe the seatie.
Ah, not to fall into the toilet at 2:49 am. Life truly is sweet.
Well, it’s another weekend...and you know what that means...people somewhere are doing yard work.
Suckers.
I’m growing this semi-tropical waste land out in my yard. With any luck at all, wild animals will take up residence and then I’ll have a small zoo.
I’ll charge the neighborhood kids to come in and see the beaver dam where the hose has been leaking for about a year. As it is, every bird in Marietta lives out there so the aviary is about done. There’s some bamboo growing along the fence, maybe a stray panda will show up and decide that my yard is a great place to hide from large predators. I’m not sure what eats crab grass, but I’m ready for that animal too. Maybe a nice little billy goat would be happy out there.
I already have lizards, and that just drives me insane. Just knowing that there are lizards crawling all over my house is enough to make me hammer the windows shut like the final scene in The Birds. When I leave my house, I quietly take little steps out there until I get to the walkway and then I run straight for the car and get the hell out of dodge.
I am having to kill spiders on my own which is awful. I grab them with a handful of paper towels so that I can’t feel the crunch and then I run, screaming, into the bathroom and flush that sucker down the toilet.
Once, I threw pans of boiling water into the bathroom to get a wasp that had decided that he needed some deodorant or something. It took three pots of boiling water to get that bastard down and then I threw towels on it and the giant puddle of water. Later, when I went back and picked up the towels, that thing was gone. I never did find it. It’s in this house somewhere, but I don’t know where.
When I do move from this place, I’ll have to let all the crap in the attic go with the house. I have no intention of going up into that bat’s nest. I hear scratching sounds up there and I think that they’re chipmunks but I don’t want to come into contact with any house aliens. I’ll let someone go get my Christmas ornaments, but the rest of that stuff can stay.
Well, it’s early morning and I’m still in my jammies. I’m gonna see how long I can stay in them. I think I’ll watch Thelma and Louise and Steel Magnolia’s now.
See ya,
Meg
posted by Meg Kelso | 6:16 AM
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