Thursday, April 17, 2014

"Negative, I Am A Meat Popsicle"

It's true, I've been watching some LeeLoo Dallas: Multipass* while packing.

I forgot how much I hate moving, even if we do have weirdo neighbors. There's a lot of crying and drooling in my house (by the dogs, of course...I don't drool when I'm crying. Maybe while sleeping, but there hasn't been a lot of that lately either). The boys aren't doing well with ALL THE PEOPLE in and out (picking up free stuff, helping us pack, keeping us semi-sane). Thor hates watching me pack anyway: he's been known to climb into my suitcase before...because a 100 pound dog fits just excellently in my carry on. Little does he know that he's in for the longest ride in the car EVER, and that he'll never be back to the house he's known since he was 12 weeks old. But it'll be better: they'll have a yard. And bugs.

But we now have a tentative address and a LONG list of places to eat in Houston. What else do I really need, right?

PS: today's search keywords which led to this blog:

owls disguised as muppets


I feel like the person who found my blog by searching "titts" was likely quite disappointed.

*otherwise known as The Fifth Element, which (if you missed my references) you need to go watch again. Immediately. And again!

Also, as I'm moving away from the tundra (where it snowed AGAIN mid-April) I'm sincerely hoping this is the last time I can call myself a meat-popsicle. 

Thursday, April 10, 2014

Dear Minnesota: Buh-Bye Then!

Juice boxes for adults. I'd like a case, please. 

  • So, man gets hit by drunk fuck assmonkey and nearly croaks. 
  • Man recovers, decides life's way too short to continue doing what he's been doing (just getting by) and wants to follow his passions. 
  • Man also sick as fuck about the frozen tundra's endless miserable winter. 
  • Man finds the only goddamned school for said passions is in a state both he and his wife swore they'd never live in. 
  • Man gets into said school. 
  • Fool woman finds a job in the same town. 
  • Job INSISTS on moving 6 weeks earlier than planned, before the funds for said move are actually available, before any place to live has been secured, before any renter has been found for the Tundra house. 
  • Woman is now bald and sitting on the floor crying incoherently*. 
  • Lesson 1: ALWAYS say your favorite place on earth is the one place you'll never move to, because apparently Texas is more powerful than "we're never moving there." 
  • Lesson 2: I'm NEVER living in Ireland. I'm NEVER living in Ireland. I'm NEVER living in Ireland. I'm NEVER living in Ireland...

*I'm not actually losing my mind all the way...just part of the way. I have some hair left. 

Also, the moving company estimators were probably horrified at the number of random sex toys piled up in my office (I shut down the Party Gals business to move and am getting rid of a bunch of stuff). 

Apparently one foolishly mentioned (in an unpleasant way) that we sure do have a lot of weapons in our house. This was after he disparaged the dogs. That company will not be getting our business. Asshole. I suppose it's fair that Renaissance Festival weirdos like us with a large collection of swords could be seen as scary. I prefer to think of us as appropriately weird. So there. 

Thursday, April 03, 2014

The Stealthy Snakipeder Army.

The snow is finally (mostly) gone in my yard, and what's left is just the ghostly evidence of the Snakipeder  invasion. The dogs attempted valiantly to reduce their numbers over the winter: digging furiously and pouncing like giant (and unwieldy) cats on invisible critters beneath the snowpack.
There was a whole goddamn BASE of them in the yard!
Where the FUCK are my armed squirrels?? 
 Clearly they failed, judging by the fricken MILES of under-snow-grass roadways the bastards had engineered.

In other news, the voles are all gone now that the snow's melted...presumably they've joined the snakipeders in our crawlspace. Have fun with that, new renters. I'm replacing the failing defenses with sharks. Because...sharks.

Like scarecrows, but for Snakipeders. Right? 
No, I DON'T have anything better to do today. I'm wasting time until my flight to Houston, where I'm interviewing tomorrow and since I choose not to puke while I wait, I'm writing nonsense instead.