Pepto Pastime

Damn whoever it was that thought chili for dinner was SUCH a good idea! Oh, wait… that was at least half my decision. *sigh* I guess I’m just a masochist. Damn my stomach hurts now. But the chili was divine and sublime and a perfect choice for a nice cool fall night. And the cobbler, blackberry cobbler, my favorite cobbler… the only kind of cobbler I like actually. It was good and now my stomach is burning like there’s a bonfire in there as I continually burp chili and cobbler. Ick. I know, you are thinking that is gross and TMI. Well it’s not really, it’s just gross, telling you that I started my period today, not THAT is TMI. (yes I know most of the male readers just cringed and clicked a link on the side just to escape my page and talk of blood loss and cramps, but whatever.)

Random crap in my head…

I’m wearing the softest undershirt made in the history of man. D talked me into getting it and I’m glad I did, it’s a dream. Soft as a cloud and light. It’s also sleeveless so me wearing it today with my black pants gave me a decidedly redneck-trailer-trash look. Oh yeah, the purple bra straps that continued to peak out from the sides added to the effect quite nicely. It’s soft though.

I should never buy toys for the Tiny Terrorists. I should just by toys for the cats and let the offspring play with them. Ever since D bought my cats a scratching post it’s kept the Tiny Terrorists rapt attention like no toy ever has. It’s scary and funny at the same time. I have this fear that the progeny will eventually drive the cats from the scratching post and my sofas will once again be at the mercy of their claws. *sigh* Also I have not gotten used to hearing the cats scratch and not automatically shooing them away from scratching as prior to the scratching post joining the household that noise usually meant that some piece of furniture was being damaged. Now I make the noise and remember the scratching post as I quickly turn and see a curious cat looking at me quizzically as she scratches the post. Maybe I need to start spraying myself with water to break myself of the habit of shooing them when I hear scratching.

Does anyone ‘buff’ their nails anymore? I have this manicure tool and it has a little thingie on it to buff one’s nails and I’m just curious if anyone still does that.

I hate doing the dishes. Yet after an extensive ‘Mexican Standoff’ with K (I can say that since my mother was half Spanish leaving me partly Hispanic and I have 2 wet-back sisters and one wanna-be wet-back sister – I’ll do a whole thing on my family tree some day to explain all that and just to bore the hell out of everyone) I folded and did a freaking load of dishes. I would say that I cursed him with every cup and plate I stacked in the dishwasher but that would be a lie because I was on the phone with D the whole time and I just didn’t have the opportunity to curse him right then. LATER I cursed him when he brought the cobbler I requested (I called specifically to ask for the cobbler) but failed to bring the vanilla ice cream or cool whip to top it with (I specifically sent a telepathic message to him about this, and I’m shocked, SHOCKED I tell you, that he didn’t read my damn mind and get that for me).

I love the monkeys in Madagascar.

I’m off to eat a handful of ant-acids and wait for the hallucinations… or not.