I’m sick with a crappy cold on my birthday weekend. And last night I misread the directions on a Robitussin bottle, and took 4 doses at once. I was high as a kite, or as the kids like to call it these days, robotripping. I’m too sick to go out drinking tonight. Instead, I may get hopped up on Robitussin again and leave incoherent comments on everyone’s blogs.
Have a good weekend, and if you’re drinking, have one for me.
A woman at the Lubbock, Texas airport was forced to remove her nipple rings by a TSA agent recently. She set off the metal detector, and she told the agent she was wearing nipple rings. The TSA agent then told the woman she had to remove them. After she told the agent she couldn’t remove them without a pair of pliers, the TSA agent brought her some pliers. For some reason, the agent let the woman leave her belly ring in place. The woman has an attorney who said, “The last time that I checked a nipple was not a dangerous weapon.”
I had to visit the DMV the other day to renew my driver’s license. I came prepared for the long wait with a book to read so I wouldn’t have to look at everyone else picking their noses. When my number was called, the man behind the counter looked at my driver’s license and said, “Michelle Renee? That’s my daughter’s name”. And then he told me how his daughter ended up with that combination.
While his wife was having the baby, DMV guy went to a local bar for a few drinks. (This was over 30 years ago, before guys like Chimpotle were whipped into being present for their kids’ births.) After DMV guy got nice and drunk, he returned to the hospital, and his wife asked him about a name for their little girl. They had already decided on Michelle for a first name. The guy said he looked out the window and saw a truck that read “Renee Diaper Service”, so he said, “Let’s name her Michelle Renee.”
I guess DMV’s guy’s daughter is still pissed that her name came from a crappy diaper service. I would be too. Come on, who thinks naming their kid after a company that picks up kids’ shitty diapers is really a good idea? Anyway, I said to tell her my dad wasn’t drunk, and I wasn’t named after a diaper truck, but I still ended up with the same name.
My birthday is at the end of the month, and I
forced asked Dangerboy to redesign my website header as an early gift. The red pinup girl was cute, but I like this one better. The book she’s holding goes with my library lady gig. And the pencil in her other hand goes along with writing a blog. Plus she’s showing her ass… what more could you ask for?
Saturday I did the Westport St. Patrick’s run. I was hoping to see The D there, but if he was, he must have been way ahead of me. The weather was wet, snowy, and cold. A couple thousand people did the 4 mile run… everyone else was smart enough not to pay to run in crappy ass weather.
Last weekend, I went to Washington, D.C. to spend time with Dangerboy, who was already there for a national bike meeting. The weekend was great, and everything was fine until it was time to fly home. Dangerboy and couldn’t fly home together because I booked later than him. I ended up with a flight to Kansas City via Newark, New Jersey. That wasn’t the problem. No, having my flight to Newark cancel, being put on train to Newark, getting stuck in the Newark Airport for 12 hours before having my repeatedly delayed flight to Kansas City cancel, and having to stay overnight in New Jersey — those were the problems.
But now I’m home, and for my sanity’s sake, the comedy of errors known as Continental Airlines doesn’t need to be ranted about anymore. The trip before all that was wonderful. We did lots of sightseeing. Look, we saw a guy with an umbrella in his pocket….
…. because his hands were too busy in his pants.
There were lots of other idiots found in our sightseeing, but my cell phone camera (and my brain) can handle only so much stupidity on one trip.
I was with a friend at a restaurant last week, and we were waiting to be seated. Many groups were waiting for tables, and this little kid with one of the groups began crying… loudly. You know what I’m talking about… when you go out, there’s always that kid who is screaming, throwing a tantrum, or kicking random strangers in the shins.
Anyway, this kid– not a baby, mind you — kept screaming, and wouldn’t calm down. I finally said to my friend, “That kid really needs to shut up“. She looked at me and asked if I ever wanted to have kids. My response?
… if I have a frontal lobotomy first.”
I’ve met lots of you out there in the blogosphere. For those I haven’t met, if you want to see if I’m a toothless hag or not, I put some pics in the About section. No, not nude pics… get your minds out of the gutter. I’m the only one around here who’s supposed to have a dirty mind… and mouth.
Anyway, don’t go posting my headshots on TKC’s body, people. And if you put my head on any porn stars, make sure to send me a copy.
I went to the check out counter at a store the other day, and I didn’t want one of the items in my hand. (I’m a girl and we change our minds a lot, you know.) This young guy was working, and I told him I didn’t want the item, and I asked if it was okay if for me to give it to him. Instead of saying “fine” or “that’s okay”, the guy says “That’s chill”.
I gave him this puzzled look, and he must have realized I was older than he thought. So then he said, “Yeah, I mean that’s fine”. At that moment, I felt really, really old.
I visited my mom and grandma last Sunday, and I brought along some Mexican Train dominoes. I thought we’d just have a friendly little game. Uh, that didn’t work out so well.
My mom had never played before, and she hated the game right from the start. Plus, she thought I was making up the rules as I went along. I got out the rules, but she was too annoyed with me to actually read them. My grandma got upset whenever someone played on her domino train. She would yell out “piss on you” or “you little shit ass” when it happened. It got to where I was playing on her train just so I could hear new variations of cuss words. (I’ve talked about my grandma’s dirty mouth before.)
After only one round, we called it quits. But a few weeks ago, I went with my cousin to visit some of our family. Several of us ended up playing Mexican Train… for 4 hours. Cuss words were flying all over the place. At one point when I was going to win a round, I said, “I’m about to bring a shit storm down on you people.”
I guess it’s safe to say that the dirty mouth runs in the family.