I ate yesterday for the first time in two days, and shortly after eating (Applesauce, cottage cheese and an english muffin..sans butter because I don't eat butter) I was dragged to Costco. (Well, not dragged...driven...Costco, for those of you who don't know, is like a warehouse place where you can buy stuff in bulk, you have to be part of/own a company that has a membership there to get a card...well, you used to anyway.)
While walking through Costco I was suddenly taken over by the wonderful feeling of nausea. In fact, it was mostly the feeling you get before you get to revisit your last meal, but without the whole throwing up part. So, I wandered around Costco having a plesant little coversation with mysef....
You can't throw up in Costco you know.
I know I can't...I'm not going to, will you please stop looking at the meat? You're not helping you know.
It's just meat, would you rather I take a peek at what the sample ladies are giving out? I never realized Coscto smelled so much like food. We should buy some muffins, how about a chicken? They bake them here, so you can eat it right away...hey, you know..you don't look so good. Are you going to throw up? You can't throw up in Costco you know.
I'm not going to throw up. Please stop it...let's go look at books.
You're standing in meat section. How would that look if you threw up all over the Chuck Roast? Everyone else would start throwing up, on the Turkey, the Ham...even on the Chicken. Lord knows the Chicken never did anything to you to merit that kind of treatment. Poor Costco, the headlines would scream about this whole fiasco, they'd lose millions. Costco would never let you back in. They'd sue.
Will you please stop saying that?
Stop saying what? How about something frozen? We'll pop it in the oven when we get home. You can't throw up here either, no one wants to look at the butter case with puke in front of it. Ooo! More samples!
Throw up! Stop saying throw up! How can I not throw up when every two seconds you're saying throw up? Will you go away? I don't feel good, and don't you dare go over to the sample lady.
Well, fine. Geehsh, I was just asking because I care. You don't have to get all angry with me. I'll go away if you want me to...but first...how about a sample?
Will you just please shut up!?
But...it's Ravioli. I thought you liked Ravioli? You know, you don't look so good. You're not going to throw up are you? You can't throw up in Costco you know.
I'm not talking about politics, religion, or war...I'm talking about pre-cooked vaccum sealed bacon that dosen't have to be refrigerated. That's right, a product that you've always told must be refrigerated and fully cooked before you eat it so the threat of worms, food posining and other not so fun things is abolished, isn't so anymore.
I was walking through my local friendly neighborhood Costco, minding my own business and enjoying being out slacking for a little bit. Making my way down the isle, I spied it. Dark and greasy tucked between the Spam and the Hormel Chili....Always Crisp (I think?) Pre-Cooked Bacon.
"Why is it not refrigerated?" I yelled in complete horror. A package of six single serving pacakges, splotted with grease and looking horribly heart-attackesk like only the best bacon can. "It's not normal!" I shuddered in terror and moved my cart along as fast as I could to the next, more safer isle that included mundane things like tea and crackers. The type of things that belong on a dark kitchen shelf.
Sometimes, the world really scares me.
It's true. I haven't eaten in two-going-on-three days. (Don't ask me how going-on works, it's not on any calander, but it's there just the same.) Part of the reason is because it really does hurt when I eat, and the other part is because I'm just a huge yellow bellied (well, pale crayola peach colored belly, but it dosen't sound as smooth when you say it that way) chicken. Actually, I've been shunned by yellow bellied chickens everywhere. I think I now fall into the catagory of yellow bellied skittish housecat on Meth.
You can just call me The Gutless Wonder. (Striking fear into the heart of no one but herself!) It's my sad, sad, only claim to fame.
Anyway, that's beside the point...kind of. I know I should eat, because vast numbers of starving people throught the world have pretty much given solid proof to the theory that we've got to eat to survive. On the other hand, I've got the pain tolerance of a pansy and deep down inside I'm pathetic.
The choices ones forced to make when one has a tummy that should be returned for a full refund.
I've been here for 1 year, 1 month, 6 days, 7 hours, and 24 minutes. (Give or take). I'm not planning on going anywhere either.
I don't, actually...ah..sorry? I don't get why anyone would want to wear diapers. I can't wait for kids to stop wearing diapers. Changing them in no way appeals to me, least of all sexually. I've heard, and no offense to anyone, that thearapy can help these things....
Worse this time though, they're red ants. I went over to my house today to pick up a minitape for someone, and my entire front of the house was covered in red ants.
Yeah, I about died. It's not that easy to gross me out (I watch kids for a living, for gosh sakes) but ants (and spiders) can do it really quick. So, I gathered up my posse, and arming ourselves with spray that smells suspisiously like head lice shampoo (Another thing that makes me shudder), we met them varmits in a showdown. It was a grueling fight, and we lost a few of our brave people in the battle (They bite, oh...and did you know how fast people run when they land in their hair?) but in the end we were tired, disgusted, bitten and bruised, but we won.
Death to the ants!
I think we won anyway...I'm kind of too chicken to go back home and check.
So, while I'm signing a client up for web hosting, so I can put myself at the mercy of another slave driver. I thought I'd post on the continuing fun happenings at my house during the wee hours of the morning when everyone (including the damn dead) should be sleeping.
SLEEPING! But do you think they let me sleep? No, of course not, because it's soooo much more fun to keep me awake. Nope, insted of letting me sleep, I got about four hours worth of footsteps, banging, scratching and knocking on my wall and closet door in my bedroom, talking and someone going through my house and knocking things off the shelves, pushing things off the tables and knocking boxes in the back room over. They also pushed over all the stuff I had leaning against the wall in the garage, too.
Nice, wasn't it?
Damn dead people...look up eviction services for the dearly departed ok? I want some sleep.
Just don't do it, they're bad. At least, that's my personal opinion of it. I first used them all the way back in 1998 to register kiddlets.com and have it hosted. For the first year they were great, but they changed management or owners or whatever and it just totally went down hill. They're technical contacts would leave, and they'd never give an account a new one, which means any changes to the domain couldn't be made because that contact didn't exsist anymore. It went almost TWO YEARS before I finally managed to get them to give me a new technical contact. Not only that, but they told me I didn't have any other domains hosted with them, and I do. Sorry, but to me that proves you have no idea whats going on in your company.
Then, they messed up on another domain I had hosted with them, and shut my account down, then charged me for the hosting anyway. I said fine, and I'd pay it, but they NEVER SENT ME THE TOTAL!
Now, eight months trying to get my domain released to me to move it to a new host, 16 letters, two phone calls, and 3 letters from other parties later I finally get a snobby letter back saying I only contacted them three times and it was only because they demanded payment.
At least the company they registered my domain with was nicer, they gave me all the options to have the domain transfered back so I could have access to it. I'm going to work on that this week, hopefully get it transfered because I'm paying hosting on ANOTHER host for the domain and the domain isn't even there!
Also, I paid for another domain and the check was cashed, and they guy hasn't transfered it to me yet. I don't want to be a pain about it, but I paid for it. It should have been done the day he cashed the check.
Just my opinion, of course.
Speaking of the blogathon, I am planning on doing it this year, but I'm not sure what blog is going to be in it (this one, or if TPC is going to do the blog thing) or what exactly my stunt is going to be, although I do have a VERY good idea. It involves O.P.I.T, but that's all you get to know. (Notice a theme? Yeah..so? lol I'm not very creative)
Speaking of O.P.I.T (So we're not speaking, and it's the second time I've opened a paragraph with that. I told you, I'm not very creative) I've been working my buns off on O.P.I.T (Between paying clients) and I'm happy to say the Oregon Paranormal Investigation Team Team Procedures & Handbook (Version 1.0) is almost completed. I've also got the ID cards completed (sans laminating and photographs, so I guess that's almost completed) for the members. I'm so thrilled! :)
I had another one of my attacks or whatever you want to call them on Sunday night, so I haven't been feeling well at all. Stupid food. Who needs it anyway?
Do you love me or what?
Speaking of people and their stuff, Robin is using my dryer cause hers broke, and other people have been packing it over for her, and they've trashed my house! AAAAAAAAAAARRRRH! I'm not home enough to clean up after other people, dangit. (I found a pair of John's undies on my front porch today..it's not exactly my idea of a outside decoration.) Oh well...
Anyhow, tomorrow is Friday (Thank you Je-sus) and I'm hoping (so far so good) that OPIT is still doing the long-nighter at one of our haunts.(pun? what pun?) I will do my best as a friend, paranormal investigator and cool ghostie girl to take along the laptop and a digital camera so people can pop in and maybe watch some live stream action. (No, not that kind of action. The disembodied kind.)
We'll see how that goes. I'm going to finish up some work here and head home while it's still light and move my damned furniature into my guestroom. You know, so my illicit one night stands have someplace to sleep other then the floor.
For ten hours.
Lordie. So, I designed an eight page coloring book that we're going to offer, along with crayons. (You get a coloring book and a box of eight crayons. I can get five boxes of eight for a buck at the dollar store.) The lady who organizes this said we have to shot for about 200, so we're making 220 coloring books, all of which have to be stapled and folded by....me.
Ahhh...how I love this slave labor.
Oh, and Kins, since we're speaking through my blog these days - I couldn't call you because the phone was occupied and I can't call LD from home because I am sans a phone card. So, CALL ME, ok? If you can, that is..otherwise I'll give you a ring before you go to work tomorrow. (Write me, damnit)
The stuff that makes you feel terrible for ever entertaining thoughts of tying them up in the closet.
A few days ago we took a couple of our kids out for breakfast at one of those local bland food resturants that give kids (why always kids? I want some too) crayons to color with. One of our kids did a picture completely in a lovely dog poo brown color and then asked me what I thought.
"It's beautiful." says I.
"YESH! BOOBOFUL!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, with this huge dimpled grin on her face and apple juice dripping down her chin. Leaning over, she threw a purple crayon at me. "Mimi, Yush crayon. Yush color too" Nodding, she beamed "Booboful."
How come every day can't be like that?