mrtl

Written Whilst Using My Unpacked Neti Pot

My nose it is a-flowin'
And so I am a-blowin'
Moving here, I was a-knowin'
I'd be allergic to the air.

It makes my skin a-twitchy
And my eyes so very itchy
It would make me awfully bitchy
But for the fact I'm no longer there.

The Ironic Queen of Caulk

::disclaimer tangent::
To understand the irony in the following piece, the reader should know that it was during our first home inspection that mrtl proclaimed herself as "the handy one," prompted by the home inspector's repeated attempts to address his comments to mister mrtl.
::end disclaimer tangent::

The more I try to fix things, to fix things, to fix things.
The more I try to fix things, the crazier I'll be.

It started in the bathroom, the bathroom, the bathroom,
The bathtub needing caulking, I clearly did see.

Before I did some caulking, some caulking, some caulking,
Had to take out the old caulk first. (This is never easy.)

While scraping out the old caulk, the old caulk, the old caulk,
Some grout came loose and fell out. Breathe, mrtl, just breathe.

While scraping out the loose grout, the loose grout, the loose grout,
Some wall tiles also came out... uncracked (unlike me).

Now I'm left with such a huge mess, a huge mess, a huge mess,
And a bigger load of distress, which is why I'm blogging.

'Cause blogging is levity, and levity will help me
Be humored I'm so "handy" to fix all these things.

Gotta fix it all by Monday, by Monday, by Monday,
The inspection's scheduled Monday. What was I thinking?

It's because I am delusional, delusional, delusional,
To be this optimistic and blind to foresee

That fixing means breaking, list-making, and shopping.
No wonder Lowe's' employees now recognize me.

Should never have claimed I'm handy, I'm handy, I'm handy,
Too bad it was a failed self-fulfilling prophecy.

It only means I'm willing, I'm willing, I'm willing,
To provoke insanity.

Oh, the irony.  I now understand why the men in my family always started a project by opening a beer.

~~~

If you watched too much MTV in the 90's like I did, you may remember Jimmy the Cab driver. I remember this one in particular testing the strength of my teacher bladder.

"It's like going crazy when you're already nuts."

About My Boobs

A Love Poem to My Husband

While waiting for the realtor
To take pictures for our listing
I noticed in your man cave
My boobs on your shelf

I gave you that pen
A bachelorette party momento
Because I love you
Even though I loved it myself

And there it was
My boobs, exposed
For the world to see
Along with our address

Did you not learn
When packing out of Texas
Certain items, as those kept in bedside drawers
Need be better concealed?

I'll still love you
When you can't find your boob pen,
Even if I show impatience
In providing requested guidance.

::sigh::

My husband
Is 39 years old.
Is having his first experience
Refilling an Rx.
Is saying, "Be glad I'm so healthy,"
In response to my annoyance
From years of daily birth control pills
And his requests for guidance.
Is not seeing it on the freakin' bottle.

My husband 
Is not just a man.
He is an intel officer.
And mine.

The Ballad of Courageous Sir Kucinich

(sung to the tune of "The Ballad of Brave Sir Robin" in Monty Python and the Holy Grail)

Rep. Kucinich sues over olive pit in sandwich

Courageously Sir Kucinich rode forth to Capitol Hill
He was not afraid to eat, courageous Sir Kucinich!
He was not at all afraid to go to the cafeteria,
Cour-a-geous Sir Kucinich!
He was not the least bit scared to order a sandwich wrap,
Or to crunch an olive pit and not spit it out;
To break a tooth and require procedures;
Orally injured Sir Kucinich!

Unwholesome and quite nasty wrap;
Unfit for human consumption crap;
Feeding pits into his yap;
Loss of enjoyment for this chap;
Sue them, he's that kind of sap,
Courageous Sir Kucinich!

Talk about frivolous lawsuits. $150,000? Seriously? I cracked a tooth on a piece of Wrigley's years ago, but you didn't see me suing. There is a statute of limitations for this stuff, anyway, right?

This story has overcome me. I woke up this morning with the image of Kucinich chasing me with olives on his fingers. Creepy!

I'd love to believe that Kucinich has a goal here that is not entirely self-serving. As I mused on Facebook earlier:

There is going to be a congressional committee created to address the concerns raised here. There will be an uproar in this country as the dangers of olive pits are made known. People will not feel safe eating sandwich wraps alone. Sandwich shops offering wraps will be picketed. It will be anarchy. Mark my words.

You know why this happened? Child labor laws, which restrict the opportunity for a youngster present at said sandwich shops checking all olives for pits before the sandwiches are made. I bet this wouldn't happen in some other countries. The committee will surely recommend youth QA oversight to avoid future dental tragedies.

Speaking of child labor practices, once the olives have been fingered (aka boogered up) to be checked for pits, they could be tasked with ensuring that fries are loosely packaged. As I've said before, it should be a crime to not have straggler fries.

Kucinich is running in 2012, isn't he? Sandwich Reform shall be the platform.

The Furlough Song

I'll be keeping track of my productivity during my time away from work! Maybe I'll even try to rhyme and keep a rhythm to it! Woo woo!

---

On the first day of furlough,
cleaning bathrooms was what it was about!
After a little pout
I scrubbed all the grout,
cleaned mirrors, sinks and spouts,
and paint chips I did scout.

flinging food at friends on facebook

'tis fairly freakin' fun
flinging food to and fro
fake flying fare forsakes
an otherwise frightly fiasco

until a friend on facebook
flings the food of flan
frothed in phallic features
frankly, i am not a fan

---

p.s. would someone please tell me when lawbrat is going to be afk for a couple days so i can win the fling already? gah!

Lookie Here! Ima Bloggin'!

This post is dedicated to my dear husband, who asked me to update the blogs. I'm only updating this one, though, because I'm lazy today. (I've spent all day watching the ANTM marathon. One more to go to see who won and go to bed! More on the stress brought by such a waste of time in a later post, if I get to it.)

Flashing back to Christmas. This year with the trip back East, I didn't get around to shopping till the week before. I had no idea what to get for the bugs.

::tangent for exception::
Last year Bug received this red car with a soft top. Pushing on the top made the car make vrooming noises. One day not long after Christmas, I was doing dishes as Bug was playing with her car. She left it on the floor behind me. I stepped back onto it, breaking it. "Mommy! You broke my red car! I loved my red car! Why'd you break my red car, Mommy?? WHY?!" After a week or so she got over it. Or so I thought.

Bug was eager to meet Santa this year. When I asked her what she was going to tell Santa she wanted, she replied, "Well, Mommy, remember my red car? The one I got for Christmas last year? The one you stepped on and broke? I'm going to tell Santa that I want a new one, but I don't want it to be red; I want it to be yellow instead."

When I later showed her about wishbones and she pulled the bigger piece, she told me she wished again for the new yellow car just like the red car I broke last year.

With as many times as she brought up this car, I was feeling some serious stress about Christmas shopping.
::end tangent for exception::

That's right. The real Santa was at our family's party. He's a close personal friend of my father's. I know you're jealous.

Having so much to do in so little time, I was starting to feel pretty stressed. As it was, Christmas cards didn't go out till a couple days after. Not that I'm giving myself a hard time about this; I hadn't sent out cards since 2004.

On the 20th I had a date to meet Hänni (another blogger met!) while the girls were in school. Weee! I got to AM's to learn that the Hänster was running late. By 2 1/2 hours (shopping, family, priorities, blah blah blah - lol). I decided to stay in town and try to get some shopping done. Imagine my glee when I found, buried behind several small red cars just like the one I broke last year, a small yellow truck that made big vrooming noises. Besides that I did the bulk of the shopping, including buying the materials to make Bug a Super Sleuth shirt. (I later recreated the logo in PhotoShop to print out onto an iron-on transfer. AWESOME!!!)

::tangent for introspection::
It's shit like this that really screws me up. I'm a guilt-ridden procrastinator. I'd like to change my ways, but when things just work out like this, I'm not moved to try so hard. GAH!
::end tangent for introspection::

All of the gifts were later hidden away in my closet, and I sequestered myself in there, bedroom and bathroom doors locked to keep Bug out in case she awoke and came down to visit. Over the next couple days I spent my evenings wrapping.

During the marathon wrap sessions, I became quite the lyricist. While posting this prior to the holiday may have added to the comedy of it, I'm still posting it tonight. It represents the frustration that inevitably comes when sequestered in a small closet, surrounded with toys, trash and wrapping detritus. It's sung to "Oh Tannenbaum."

Oh fucking tape! Oh fucking tape!
Where do you keep going?

Oh fucking tape! Oh fucking tape!
Your location I'm not knowing!

I looked under my leg for you.
First left, then right.
Under my ass, too.

Oh fucking tape! Oh fucking tape!
Where do you keep going?

"Tape" can easily be replaced with "pen," "gift tags," "ribbon," or "scissors." It's hella versitile like that.

Happy New Year!

This girl looks stoned in just about every picture I take of her.

One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila, Floor

'Twas the night after KTOG
And down by the sink
AM and mrtl were stirring,
In a big bowl, a drink.

The ladies had converged that night, taking care
That all necessary ingredients would surely be there.

Once Bug, Boog, Jem and Junior were tucked in and asleep,
All tired out from playing, not making a peep,
AM and mrtl to the kitchen did dash,
Standing over the bowl, with a squirt and a splash.
When the concoction was ready, they dipped in a spoon,
And tasting it, both took a moment to swoon.
They'd done it! High five! They grabbed for the ice.
The Perfect Margarita was so worth its price.

Makes four servings (or two quite large servings)

Combine:
2 cups Horny Toes
1 cup Cointreau
1/4 cup Torani orgeat syrup (more or less, to taste)
Juice from 2+ fresh limes
Kosher salt (for glass rim, optional)

Enjoy!

A Blues Song

Been home a week now
duh DUH duh duh
Longing for normalcy
duh DUH duh duh
Would've already been there
duh DUH duh duh
Were it not for that damned kitty

I've got the blues
I've got the diabetic-kitty-won't-stop-pissing-on-the-couch blues

Gone through two bottles of NM*
duh DUH duh duh
Two more of Febreze
duh DUH duh duh
Sure will use a lot more now
duh DUH duh duh
If the kitty won't ease

I've got the blues
I've got the diabetic-kitty-won't-stop-pissing-on-the-couch blues

Called the vet today
duh DUH duh duh
To talk 'bout bringing him on home
duh DUH duh duh
She said the vet would call back
duh DUH duh duh
She didn't - what's she, in Nome?

I've got the blues
I've got the diabetic-kitty-won't-stop-pissing-on-the-couch blues

Still got my sense of humor
duh DUH duh duh
Found in some Cabernet
duh DUH duh duh
Hey, I could use the empty bottle
duh DUH duh duh
To euthanize my OWN way

I've got the blues
I've got the diabetic-kitty-won't-stop-pissing-on-the-couch blues

*Nature's Miracle