A Post, the Equivalent of Naugahyde

...or a fake post, for those of you that don't speak man-made-upholstery.

This moment is brought to you by:

Hillary's Blog-Dammit Wake-up Calls

Just like a hotel wake-up call, but with a bit more haiku, and a LOT more swearing

Although I have lots going on in my life, I have very little in the realm of coherent thought going on. So, welcome to the first installment of.....

NAUGAHYDE FRIDAYS!!!!!

(an American version of Friday Faff)
(For this abject pilfering, H, I shall mail you the vinyl arm rail.)

In a meeting today, I was sitting behind one of the managers in R&D. He occasionally turned around to make a comment about the topic at hand. Approximately one hour into the meeting, he turned around and was met with, depending on his angle,

either this:

or this:
or this:

No, that's not Zoltan Screamface from Planet ReneeZellweggerPinchyMouth. No, no--that's me, mid "trying-to-cover-up-a-yawn-in-a-meeting"-face. You know what I mean, right? When you think you can contain a yawn by simply willing your mouth shut? After I told my co-worker, T, what had happened (because I tell her all about my stupid OT moments), she said, "Maybe next time you should just let it out and cover your mouth like a non-idiot." Okay, so she didn't say the last part, but she was most-likely thinking it. Anyhow, the manager looked a bit startled to say the least. 'Cause the beauty was held in place for like 3 horrendously long seconds while I got through the yawn. Promotion? CHECK.

The Potty Dance and Other Inconspicuous Ways to be an Adult

Over-Thinker (2009)
Image found here.

My name is Over, and I'm a potty-dancer.
Hello, Over.

I swear--I'm one sneeze short of a massive accident. And when the HELL did that start? I'm 31, for the love of cheese! I've had no children, no interesting uh, events to speak of. Although, there was that one altercation with a swing-set when I was seven. And the swing-set never even called. Bastard.

But I digress...

HONESTLY.

Okay--scenario:

1. Working in the lab, realize I have to go.
2. Nah, no time.
3. Hold it.
4. One or two hours later.
5. Sitting at desk.
6. Minding my own business.
7. Stand up. Walk five paces.
8. Uh. Ohhhhh.
9. GUESS I FORGOT TO GO, EARLIER!!!
10. Damndamndamn.....gottttttaGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
11. Okay. Don't panic.
12. Bathroom is only 1 mile down busy hallway.
13. No problem.
14. Step, step, step.
15. Horsey gallop, horsey gallop.
16. HORSEY, HORSEY, HORSEY
17. Pause. Pause.
18. *Whiney Noise.*
19. Bend down to pretend to tie my shoe (it's a slip-on--neat).
20. Pause.
21. Resume horsey-gallop.
22. Okay...the urge is gone. It's going to be oka....
23. WAIT WAIT---it's BACK!!!!
24. OHGEEZOHGEEZOHGEEZ
25. Okay. Okay. Don't think about it. Keep walking.
26. No, you totally didn't just pee your pants a little. Nothing to see here, people.
27. Gallop, gallop, GALLOP!!!!!!
    

I was going to start this next paragraph with, "Remember those really annoying commercials...." until I realized that "annoying" is sort of the soup du jour for any bladder control commercials.

June Allyson?
Annoying.
Those "and I don't have to 'go' right now" commercials where the crossing guard leaves the innocent students left for dead in the middle of the crosswalk 'cause she has to GOOOO?
Annoying.
And catchy. Dammit.

I don't think I have a, quote-fingers, bladder control problem, quote-fingers, I think I simply wait too long to use the facilities. Oh, and I drink a lot of fluids: this has already been covered in charming Bed-Wetting I and Bed-Wetting 2: Electric Boogaloo entries. I no longer wet the bed. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I should give it another whirl in order to avoid the Horsey Dance (it's the new Macarena) at work.

The Devil made me do it. Hillary is the devil. An awesome devil. With fantasic taste in internet friends. Modest, internet friends.

Hello my little pretties (and your little dogs, too, if you have 'em--Hi to Nic's new pup!). And "HI!" to a lot of new readers that sent me sweet e-mails, totally loving me up and begging me for a triumphant return! Okay, so maybe the e-mails were more along the lines of, "You. Nice blog. Write again?" I'm nothing if not realistically accurate. And honest. Don't forget my glorious honesty.

I'm back for a brief bloggy moment.
A bloglette, if you please. Well, sort of a wind-bag bloglette.

Hills composed a lovely, stalk-y* post about yours truly and my wee bit o' absence from the internets. No, I've not gone to that great big blog in the sky, nor have I forgotten about my little slice of superficial heaven here on blogspot--I've simply lost myself in the mystic realm that some refer to as home remodeling and repair. I lovingly refer to this realm as OH MY GOD BURN IT, BURN IT DOWN! GOD!! DOES GROUT EVER DRY??? OH MY GOD, WHAT'S THAT SMELL?? OH MY GOD, GAS! GAS! GAS! WE'RE GONNA DIE! OH! THAT'S JUST THE SMELL OF MILDEW? MY BAD.

I could go on (and you just know that I will)........

Instead of a hugely long, drawn out story (my favorite kind to tell!), let me share some small bits and bobs through bullet points. And swearing.

It's the "grandma-house" we've always wanted.
The putrid, coral shutters and peeling shaker siding are pure bonus!

• Yup, we bought our first home.
• And dammit all to hell and back in a boat, this house is just chock-full of especially f-bomb worthy surprises.
• Before I get to the next bullet point, I shall say that I really love this house, it has tons of potential and I can't even tell you how great of a deal we got on it. Unspeakably great.
  
• Here's some math for the ages: How many sub-floors must be present under the latest layer of bathroom flooring? If you answered 76 and a half, you're close. I swear, the f-tards that previously owned this home followed the basic guideline of asking themselves, "Hmm, wonder what the housing code is on this? Nah. Let's do the violation instead. I hate the Over-Thinker and C. Let's give them the pain."
• If you're in the market for a vinyl, rail-like, arm rest about yay big, from a disgusting wet-bar, and totally fitting of a 1974 rumpus room, shoot me an e-mail and I'll send it to you.
• And if you ask nicely, you can also have the shuffleboard court made out of asbestos squares. Fun for the whole family!
• And if you say, "With a cherry on top, Over-Thinker," I'll throw in a bathroom cabinet from above the shower that was hi-jacked from the kitchen in a bid to create efficient! storage! ABOVE (??) the bathtub.
• Don't get me started on our concrete side yard. See, when you purchase a home in the bowels of a Minnesota winter, you sort of take your chances on what may or may not lie beneath the 65 feet of snow. Oh wait, you thought there'd be tundra? As in grass? Oh, you silly little moron, of course there's no grass. The realtors simply shoveled a little pathway of snow off the basketball court of doom in our side yard, making it appear to have grass on either side. Asses. ASSES.

So, remember those "How I spent my summer vacation"-papers you had to write in school? I'm thinking of composing a "How I spent my 30's"-paper for my blog. It will consist of home repairs, drinking, swearing, drinking and spending money. And blogging. Because Hills said so.


*Bring it--as stalkers are awesome if they're just friends posing as stalkers, posing as limerick authors.

Over-Resolutionizing 2009....And other Crotchety-Wisdom

HELLLLLOOOOoooo

Yooouss!!!

I am back from the massive brain and blog fart that was December 2008 and returning just belatedly in time to make some lofty goals for 2009. Thank you all for the lovely e-mails, and your concern over my potential demise. Alas, I'm not (brain)dead. Or...am I??? Some would argue that I am one delicate sip of Pinot Noir away from brain damage. To those I say...

CHEERS!


OT's 2009 Resolutions

1. I will try my best not to cringe when someone hands me their phone to show some (super high-quality, I'm sure) picture and I see a nifty make-up/ear wax/skin slime smeared all over the screen. Seriously though, it takes a mere moment to wipe that crap off on your pant leg or your thumb. Go the extra mile, for the love of God.
   
2. I pinky swear not to do another NaBloPoMo until at least we've settled into the new house (2016). I can just see me dropping a box of ceramic tile or a sheet of drywall on C's foot as I dash off to enter some mindless (as per usual) drivel before the clock strikes midnight. Because then NABLOPOMO may spell T-R-I-A-L-S-E-P-A-R-A-T-I-O-N.
3. I will only worry myself into a coronary about appropriate items such as "Can I pull off a pair of Wellies?" or "Can I wear these jeans for a 4th time this week and stay under the radar?" instead of wasting time pondering the merits of drinking coffee in the morning instead of Diet Dr. Pepper in order to seem more mature.
4. I will give up trying to understand the allure of the following: Pete Wentz, Skinny Jeans, Austin Powerisms (still!!), Fantasy Football*, The Jonas Brothers, World of Warcraft**, Liza Minelli, Diet Coke***, Thanksgiving, the way Madonna looks, and last but certainly not least, that massive asshole, Billy Something-or-other, that does those infomercial-style commercials for things like KaBLAAM! or Urine-be-gone-with-this-Rag-THINGY!!
5. I will QUIT chasing all of the major holidays with ideals of THE PERFECT ONE. I will consider a holiday successful if I have time to clean the toilet, unwrap some cookies from the gas station and unscrew the cap from a jelly jar of moonshine BEFORE the guests arrive. A-MEN.
   

*Hi Jess & FriYet!
**Hi again, Jess!
***Hi EVERYONE IN THE BLOGGY-UNIVERSE!!


P.S. If any of you care, I gave up on the whole Quit Biting Muh Damn Nails thing---here, 2008, let me show you my progress. Let me demonstrate with a gesture.


Okay, onto 2009....and 2009? Don't worry, I'm not thinking of flipping you off next year. But let today's gesture be a reminder of what you could see if you don't show your loveliness in the coming months. Think of it as The Ghost-Finger of New Year's Future.

Valium? Valium? Anybody?

Photo found here

We just put an offer in on our first house.

Hold me.

P.S. Why is it that you can't pay for mortgages in smiles and moonbeams?
Why, Lord, why???

30 Days of NaBloPoMo....minus the partridge in a pear tree. Who the hell would want that, anyhow?

Firstly--Jess, Bridgy, Al and Hillary. I would like to apologize for peer-pressurizing you into doing NaBloPoMo. I realize that I probably owe each of you $500 and a shiatzu massage for your troubles. Hills, I know you'll settle for some vodka and a puppy-sitter. I'll try to make this happen. Jess, Bridgy & Al, I'm pretty sure you'll settle for some Miller Lite and penis-straw polishers. I'm on it.

I would like to wrap-up this 30-day debacle with a post on what I've learned.

Everything I know about
Posting (this month),
I've learned from NaBloPoMo

1. C and I can blog together like nobody's business. He has a very arid (see, Jess? still using the new vocab!) sense of humor and I'm going to suggest to him ( a.k.a. tell him there won't be a Christmas unless he listens to me) that we do more joint-posts. Expect us to do more WeWe's (get it? no? oh.) in the near future.
2. 16% of the people that come to my blog via search terms have been looking for "Nascar Porn." So, in order to not alienate 16% of my potential readership, I will be writing/posting some Nascar Porn. Illustrations will be included.
3. If there's one thing that will get people commenting, it's a post on tongue scrapers (sorry, Ree! Look away or you'll puke!) and the suggestion that you should brush the inside of your cheeks. Oh the humanity! This is the MOST ridiculous thing you all have ever heard in your lifetimes!
4. Posts regarding my assinine antics as a child will most likely be a hit. Especially when they address enormous underwear and a flamboyant (U-G-L-Y, delusional) sense of style. As promised, in the near future, I will be sharing my Foray into Hookerdom as a five-year-old. It will pretty much seal-the-deal that I won't be able to run for a congressional seat. Hell, I don't think I'll be able to hold a spot on the PTA. (haha! dodged that future bullet!)
5. If I ever need help thwarting vigilante technology, all I need to do is ask and you will answer the call. Muchas gracias.

On that note....I will be signing off from this NaBloPoMo.

Please note: NaBloPoMo will be considered a swear word until further notice.

THE END.

Come Get Your Chocolate Rimmed Braless Gun Show!

As my NaBloPoMo attempt is drawing to a close, I thought it would be lovely to take a look at November's Search Terms. Let's have a little laugh at the weirdos who have found their way to my blog. No offense, weirdos. In fact, you've found your mother-ship. Have a seat.


"chocolate rimmed wine glasses"
I like to dip mine in brownie batter. Sometimes I add the wine to the batter do I don't need any pesky glasses.

"went to school braless wearing whiet keds"
You wore white keds? Who does that???

"honeyhairy.com"
Apparently this URL is up for grabs. I should nab this up for a sister-site. Wouldn't that be a cool networking card to hand out at BlogHer? "Hi! I'm Over-Thinker from Honey Hairy!" Dudes. They would flock to me.

"phallic empire state building"
Ooo..fancy talk. I just call it the building shaped like a penis. But with more metal. And people inside.

"gangsta nascar soap opera"
Clayton Edward, NO! How dare you run over my second cousin's sister's hood rat with your Gatorade endorsed Pinto!!!

"my porn"
Git yer own.

"have a hyphen?"
Thank you! Don't mind if-I-do!

"hand warm water pee bed"
jerk puts hand water asshole asshole

"sra gun show"
I'm pretty sure they meant NRA, but just in case...
Sra, you havin' a gun show out yonder? Come on, gals! I'll share muh moonshine!

"burned skin under eyes. now it stays dry all the time"
Yes, I typically find that if I light something on fire that it stays quite arid. So, well done, you!

"angel figurine that's light up"
Overheard on Black Friday at some Wal-Mart, somewhere, I'm sure: "I has my eyes on one o' them presssshus figerimes--theys light 'em up!"

"blonde pigtails phun"
The fact that they spelled fun with a "ph" touches my heart. They have definitely found their mother-ship.