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I went to my hoohaw earlier this week for an annual exam, and while he was doing what he does, he asked me if I was planning on staying on my birth control all year. At first I didn’t know what the heck he was talking about. And then I realized… he meant kiddos. After all, he reminded me I’m almost 35.
Have I told you I don’t want kids? I’ve never had any interest in popping out spawn, and frankly, the thought of kids scares the crap out of me. So I’m glad I saw a Marie Claire article this week that voices a lot of the same reasons I don’t want any children. And it also goes into the flak women get when they decide to remain sans kiddos.
And yes, I told the hoohaw doc that I’m staying on my birth control this year… and the year after… and the year after …
Sometimes I’m not that bright, but I do mostly learn from my mistakes. Here’s what I’ve learned recently…
1. If you’re in a car wreck and need to buy another car, just start with CarMax rather than going to all the usual dealerships that make your blood pressure go up so much.
2. While you are looking for a different car, don’t do anything stupid like kick your old car.
3. And really don’t kick your car unless you have on car-kicking shoes. Otherwise you just might break a toe.
4. If you do break a toe, it’s going to hurt to go camp and hike in Rocky Mountain National Park during your vacation.
5. If you go camping, make sure you bring the fly for the tent. Otherwise you’ll have to McGyver it.
6. On another note, if your dog keeps trying to kill you with the gas stove, get a baby gate and lock her ass out of the kitchen. (Thanks to Spyder for the idea.)
7. But if you lock the dog out of the kitchen, be prepared for a new line of attack… like her tripping you and trying to make you fall down the stairs.
8. Try to talk your husband into getting a second dog to keep the other one busy. If he doesn’t go for it, just bring another dog home. Oh wait, don’t post that plan on your blog before you actually go through with it… oops.
So there are these hipster guys who live across the street from Eric and me. They’re the kind of hipsters who wear skinny jeans and too much hair product to keep their bangs in place. The kind of hipsters who come home from the bars at 4am and try to have deep conversations on their porch while drinking cans of PBR and Schlitz. The kind of hipsters who wouldn’t know real irony if it jumped out in front of their Ray-Ban sunglasses.
I tell you, these guys irritate the crap out of me… and the worst part is this – it makes me realize that I’ve gotten old. I mean, when I was their age, I stayed out all night, and then came home and had drunken conversations with friends. And I probably annoyed the hell out of my neighbors too.
You would think these realizations about myself would make me more tolerant of these hipster guys. Yet, you would be wrong. Instead, I think I’ll become the cranky older neighbor who calls the cops whenever these fuckers wake me up at 4 in the morning. Yep, sounds good to me.
But before I get into that, let me tell you why I think she has it in for me. See, Eric was Ginger’s dog before he and I got married. She was head bitch, if you will. But now that I’m here, she’s not top dog anymore. Oh sure, she’s nice when Eric’s around, but when’s he’s not, the claws come out.
On Friday I worked a little late, then bought some much needed alcohol. Eric was at happy hour, so when I came home, it was just Ginger and me… and a horrible gas smell that filled the whole house. Ginger must have put her paws on the stove while looking for people food, and turned a burner knob on in the process. It didn’t light, just filled the house with gas.
I gave Eric a call, and he had me turn off the furnace and open the windows. While the gas dissipated from the air, I eyed Ginger. No, she didn’t win this time, but she taught me not to underestimate her plotting capabilities.
So I keep reading that blogs are dead, but I’m back anyway. I like Twitter, but the 140 character limit sometimes just doesn’t cut it for me. Case in point… I posted the story below on Twitter, but couldn’t shorten it enough to fit in just one tweet…
Eric and I went to see the Barenaked Ladies play a free concert a couple weeks ago at the Midland. (I now call them the Partially Naked Ladies because they are short one of their singers.) Anyway, the lead singer from Better Than Ezra opened for them, and near the end of his set, he brought out “American Idol” David Cook for a duet. At that point, Eric leaned over and said, “We paid too much for these free tickets.”
P.S. Thanks to Eric for the new layout!
P.P.S. All my old pr0n posts are password protected now. I’ll give you a hint… it’s my favorite type of clear alcohol that starts with the letter V.
I’m mostly on Twitter (wellhellchell), so this poor blog has been kinda ignored lately by me. Let’s do a little catch up:
– Our dog was hit by a car, but she wasn’t hurt. Thank goodness for her extra padding. Makes me think I should keep my extra padding just in case I’m ever in a similar situation.
I bought a Google phone, and I really like it, mostly because it has a Chuck Norris app that says, “Like my gun?” and “Did you steal 2 kilos of cocaine?”
– I got my hair cut into a bob above my shoulders. Guys hate it, but I’m married so it doesn’t matter. Besides, it’s growing out.
– I’m starting grad school classes in a few weeks, and I’m already looking forward to them being over.
– I want to buy a voodoo doll for work, and I’m wondering if I can get away with putting it on my company credit card…
The other day, I found something I liked at a store, and went to the register to check out. Two guys behind the counter were talking about music.
Rap Guy: Do you like rap?
Other Guy: Nah, not really man.
Rap Guy: What? You don’t listen to any rap? Not even Chamillionaire?
Other Guy: Well I kinda like the guy who was in that one movie…
Rap Guy: Which one?
Other Guy: That Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie.
Vanilla Ice, yo. Word to your mother.
Lately I’ve been tagging along with Dangerboy to our neighborhood association meetings. At one of the meetings, a woman sat in the back of the room… with her big dog. The dog had on a tiny chihuahua-size service vest that we think the owner probably bought on eBay. The meeting was going pretty smoothly, agenda item to agenda item, until the woman with the dog asked if she could speak. She started off with these words…
“I didn’t want to come tonight, but my dog told me I had to.”
Then she went into an nonsensical tirade until people politely told her to sit down and shut up. Free crazy talk at neighborhood meetings… just one of the many reasons Dangerboy and I lurve midtown.
I’m taking a blog vacation. You can still follow along on Twitter – I’m on there as wellhellchell. I’ll be back here when I’m ready to write more than 140 characters at a time.