Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

Google Me

Ya’ll. I have been googled. Not for something that I am proud of, but somehow my Ugly Men entry the other day landed in google’s top fifteen for the search "Ugliest Men".

Shit I will take the hits anyway that I can.

Should I pull an unclebob and put random phrases in entries to get google hits? I think that my own way of phrasing things probably already has me in trouble.

Had a dream last night that Oprah had chosen my book (that I have not written) to be her Oprah’s Book Club choice of the month (man, I bet I get google hits just from the phrase Oprah’s Book Club). I was naturally thrilled but was terrified to make my appearance on her show to pimp my book. I spend hours picking the right outfit, eventually buying a new one. I feel great, got my hair and makeup done, have a cute little red skirt suit on and really fabulous shoes. I watch the tape when it’s all over and realize that I am giving the audience (and now the world) a beaver shot (crap, there are going to be hits for beaver shot too).

Now why on earth did I not wear underwear on the Oprah Winfrey show?

That fixed me though. If Oprah does ever pick my non-existent book for her book club, I will wear pants. Lesson learned.

Horrible food experience last night. I suffered from temporary insanity and ate something that Travis had made. Travis likes to make food in bulk and then heat it up throughout the week. He makes things like hot dog and cheese rolls and enchiladas and then wraps them up in the fridge. Sometimes, when I don’t feel like cooking, I will eat something. I am nearly always sorry. Its not that Travis is a bad cook—his lasagna is fantastic—it’s that he doesn’t stick to recipes. Even when he makes something like macaroni and cheese out of the book he has to add cheese or paprika or SOMETHING. I hate that. Especially when you have no idea this extra something is going to be there. So I see leftover pizza in the fridge. Decide that is instant dinner. Heat it up; it does look a little weird. Take a bite and spit it out. He had put microwave bacon (ew); lunchmeat ham and American cheese slices on top of this already cooked pizza. It was nasty.

I made some Easy Mac. That shit never lets me down.

I thought I wouldn’t like Easy Mac but it is pretty good. And since I can be incredibly impatient, the four-minute prep time is about perfect. The almost no effort part helps too.

Kinky Jehovah’s Witnesses were having sex again last night. I’m thinking that they are trying to have another baby. I know that the wife almost died after their son. She always said that she wanted to have three or four so she wanted another almost immediately. Her husband doesn’t really want her to risk it. So he told her that they could have another baby if she got pregnant naturally (they used fertility drugs last time). I think her strategy is to have as much sex as possible now. Which plays into his hands because he told me that was his whole idea. Apparently she doesn’t like it too much. Or doesn’t want to have it much (the woman has either been pregnant or had a newborn pretty much since we moved in so I can’t blame her for that). Anyway, Kinky Male Neighbor (KMN) thinks that bribing her with a baby will make her do him dirty. Apparently it’s working. But man I can’t wait for the cold weather to start so they will close the windows. Man, I am remembering all the stuff that KMN told me about their sex life at our last party. No wonder they leave the windows open—I already know everything anyway.

Of course KMN was part of the whole crew that was discussing wife swapping at our last party too. That really pissed me off. I am proud to say that my husband was not volunteering. But the rest of them had already decided how these trades were going to work. I am not flattered to be one of the top choices. Most of these guys are old, fat and unattractive. Also, I am one of the few women in the neighborhood without children and the only one that doesn’t wear a mommy wardrobe. Many of them stay home or work at home and so they were sweatpants, overalls, etc. I work in an office, for a schmancy store. I have to dress now. But compared to all of them my high heels and low-rise jeans are the stuff of porn. The thing that struck me as so bizarre about that whole scenario was how they thought they were all going to even get away with talking about it. They were loud and talking about it in the open. And even though many of the wives didn’t come they were bound to hear about it. Dumbasses.

That is the problem with a neighborhood like ours. We all know each other’s business. We know who is fighting with their spouse, and what about. We know who is having affairs. It’s like a soap opera. Of course, when we moved in and Travis moved in with us all the guys in the neighborhood decided that I was sleeping with them both. Man, no wonder they thought I would participate in wife swapping, in their minds I was already doing a bald guy with a potbelly. It’s ok. They think the two sisters next door to us are lesbians.

I bet my kinky neighbors’ kid’s first words are “ooooh baby yeaaaah!”

6:46 a.m. :: comment ::
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