29 October 2010

The Honda gets an oil change...

I'm not a fan of having to take my car for its routine maintenance. It was always awesome when my grandpa used to do that for us, and now I'm stuck taking my Accord to the dealership for this stuff. I especially dislike it because they already tried to tell me that since my car had almost 100,000 miles on it, that I should consider trading it in. I mean, it was going to need a new timing belt and all that stuff soon and it would cost me like $1500. I can definitely see the smart move there: buy a different car for $15000 when I only owe $2000 on mine...in the end I'd save that $1500, right. But I'd have another 3-4 years of payments. Sure, let's get on that right now. Durrrrr.

"Yeah, I don't think I'm looking for a new car. I plan on driving this one until it falls apart. And if I do need a new timing belt, I'll let YOU know."

"Ok, ma'am, but we just want to warn you of the potential risk."

"I like a little risk in my life...how do you think I got this rash?"

Meanwhile, Moose is pulling in with his little wagon.

"Yes, I need the tires on this beast to be rotated and balanced. And check the pressure in those bad boys, will you? I take some speed bumps like a demon and need to make sure I got some good balance. Cops almost caught me last time and if I don't have good speed, I might get caught next time."

"Sir, we don't work on wagons, and besides, these tires don't have air and it's just a measly little steel rod that connects them."

"Oh, well, then can you paint it and put big flames on the sides?"

"Uh, sure, I guess we can do that..."

"Thanks, bro, way to hook a brotha uuuuuuupppppp! My mom'll tip you. She's money bags."

He walks away with a slight pimp limp and gives a quick "what up" nod to the front desk clerk, Peggy. I said, "Moose, seriously, you don't walk like that and I'm pretty sure your little Transformers backpack doesn't fall into the pimp category. Leave Peggy alone."

After some time, the technician informs me I need new brakes and rotors as well as new tires. I said, "Yeah, I'm getting new tires soon. What will the brakes/rotors cost?"

"Oh, around $700."

"Oh, that's all? I think it'd be cheaper if you just cut a hole in floorboard and I'll settle for Flintstone brakes. Thanks."

"Ok, well, again...we just want to let you know of the risk."

"I appreciate that, and as I said before too...how do you think I got these bumps?"

"I thought you said it was a rash?"

"I got both, it's a combo deal. What, you jealous or somethin'?"

"Alrighty then, how about we just get you on outta here."

"Sounds good to me."

As I'm paying, Moose comes tearing around the corner on two wheels with his little wagon. And not just that, but he's got the technician behind him in the wagon as well..."Yeeeaaaaaaah, baby!!! We got this thing blazin' and ain't nobody got a Wiener Wagon like this!!!"

I roll my eyes, the technician looks at me and I simply say, "That's my son. He's his own kinda creature."

We left the dealership with Moose having made even more friends. This little guy is a magnet like no other.

28 October 2010

Ladies Night at the K (Royals game)

It's within my being to be one of the most girliest of girls. One who is teeming with femininity in a way that would make Barbie look like a mountain man who just got done bare hand wrestling a grizzly bear while at the same time making a good batch of deer jerky from a deer he shot with his homemade bow and arrow. That and he hasn't showered in about 8 days and his beard likens that of ZZ Top. Yes, that is how girly I am. Barbie is a simpleton compared to me. Good thing she divorced Ken and finally retired--she knew she was no match.

Probably the best way to celebrate any woman is a night out at Kaufman Stadium for a Royals game. I was lucky enough to go with my good friends Jill and Kristi. Kristi brought along her little son, Grayson, who, along with Moose, may have been 2 of the 6 wieners in attendance that night.

Now, at this event there is always a good variety of booths and all things appealing to females. This is everything from massage, skin care, clothing, and whatever else a woman would be attracted to...think they forgot to provide a booth with shirtless male models. One booth that was of particular interest was a chocolate fountain, which provided strawberries and you could cover the fruit in the chocolate and then indulge. I'm pretty sure women were tackling each other to get to the front of the line for that savory chocolate, which I think was just a whole bunch of melted hershey's kisses that were fed through a garden hose into a fishbowl. Nonetheless, it was a popular little setup.

One thing that should be noted is that it was quite rainy during Ladies Night at the K. So many women, so many heels, so much hairspray...then me--jeans, t-shirt, tennis shoes. Barbie is writhing in jealousy knowing how glamorous I looked. Kristi and Jill were dressed in similar fashion and little Grayson was strapped in his little Baby Bjorn stationed in a way that he could watch all the chaos at the chocolate fountain.

This fountain provided more amusement than anything else that night, including the game. While 95% of the women were at this booth the other 5% were trying to snag one of those pink bags that probably had coupons for Botox and lip injections...only in JOCO can you find your true worth in a session of Botulinum Toxin A and a good squirt of fat globules into your lip. Mmmmm, I bet that lady can't wait to go home and kiss her husband with lips full of fat taken from her right ass cheek. Does her husband know he's kissing her ass? Oh well, he'll just continue his affair with his 25-year-old secretary in the Sheraton Hotel over lunch while his wife spends his money on Gucci and plastic surgery thinking it keeps him interested.

Anyway, back to Chocolate Fountain. So, the line is long and it's raining. Jill and Kristie are in line and I'm standing off to the side keeping my eye on that stand over there where you can get roast beef sandwiches. I wasn't surprised that it was a bit isolated and not many women were flocking to it. They must have not received the memo on the importance of protein intake in order to maintain a shapely figure.

Jill says, "V, you want a chocolate covered strawberry?"

"No, I want a sandwich. You can fight those demons to get to the fountain, I'm gonna go eat like a caveman..."

"Of course you are...why wouldn't you? Well, I guess I'll enjoy all this chocolate to myself and feel what it's like to savor my femininity and revel in all this womanhood...yes, that's what I'll do."

"Riiiiiiiight, you get on that and tell me what it's like after you fend off the rest of those drooling housewives."

I'm pretty sure that after that statement, Jill farted. Nice womanhood, Jill. Keep reveling.

As I waited for Kristi and Jill to get their chocolate fix, it was obvious that the woman running the booth was not in celebration of womanhood. She must have been cursing it since it seemed as though certain functions were occurring within her body that caused her to lash out at any innocent bystander. I bet she was experiencing that brief segment of the month that required her husband to go into hiding until it passed.

She was a bit edgy because the fountain was not working properly. Not only that, but with all the rain, I noticed that the cord that plugged that fountain into electrical power was also laying in a nice puddle of water. She was a real bitchy sort so I simply said, "Hey, Satan's Mistress, I think if you just take 2 steps to the left and plug that fountain into the wall while holding this fork, you'll feel a WHOLE lot better."

She threw her fork at me as well as several strawberries. I ducked and ran while yelling, "It's only shock therapy, I swear!! Moose held his belly and laughed til his 1 eye started watering...little turd never helps his mother out. Grayson pooped in his diaper to show his disgust with Satan's Mistress.

The game was good too. Moose was trying to do the whole hey-batter-batter-swing thing but when he was in full force with it I noticed he wasn't looking at the field. He was looking at the guy carrying the big pole of cotton candy bags. I said, "Moose, turn your head and use your good eye. That's the cotton candy guy, it's not Billy Butler."

"Oh...hehe...whoopsies. GO COTTON CANDY GUY!!"

Kristi wanted a picture of all of us together and we managed to get a good one where her eyes were open. I told her if she wouldn't smoke so much weed prior to the game, it wouldn't take 7 attempts to get a good one. Here's what we came up with:

Grayson passed out because he was exhausted from all the smiling and got tired of his mom not being able to keep her eyes open. He said, "Hey, lady, how 'bout you wake me up when this crap can be a decent picture. I got dump in my diaper and I'm not a fan of getting rained on."

Another lovely night at the K celebrating womanhood...a cranky, menstruating chocolate fountain attendant, rainy, thundering weather to ruin any woman's updo no matter how much BigSexy Spray and Play she used, and coupons to satisfy any cougar's mission to complete plastic surgery in hopes of landing herself a 23-year-old boy fresh out of his law firm internship.

I already have tickets for next year's Ladies Night.

08 October 2010

Researching online dating

So it has been an abnormal couple of weeks in the house of Moose. We got some sad news that Moose's right eye had to be removed and went into quick surgery. He's been recovering like a champ since and we are waiting to get the cone taken off as well as the stitches out so we can feel like our routine is back. It's been frustrating for both of us at times, but we're happy knowing he'll be pain-free and back to regular play before too long.

Until then, we have to be careful about running, jumping, and becoming too active. That and taking the rest of the antibiotic and finding sneaky ways for him to swallow the little pills.

BUT...just because we have been a little out of sorts and things have not been as usual around here does NOT mean that we haven't had some indoor entertainment. This time around it came in the form of an online dating site.

Now, first of all, this business with the site came about when a friend of mine informed me that she has signed up for one.

"Hey, I joined this dating site."

"You did? Ok, well, it's a new avenue for you so I guess we'll see how it goes."

"Yeah, but I'm kinda nervous and scared."

"Why? It's gotta be easy, right? You can delete or ignore anyone who you're not interested in."

"Yeah, but it's still a little scary. Will you get on it with me?"

"What? Why? You want me to help you stalk boys?"

"Yeah, you can tell me which ones sound good. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeze? Oh, and it's totally free. You can communicate with people and you don't have to pay to sign up."

"Oh my gosh. Ok, but I'm only doing this for you. I'm not going to communicate or do whatever, this is to help you filter through the mess."

So as we chatted on facebook, I proceeded to go to the site and fill out the necessary info to get myself signed up. I didn't put up a picture and this was my "About Me" information:

"I keep myself in shape and will start my PhD next fall. Don't BS me with how much you workout."

Needless to say, with a picture-less profile and information as detailed about me as that little sentence, I was bound to have the boys flocking to get to me. Then I got a message (a totally generic one for sure) from the creator of the site saying that he'd reviewed my profile and it looked "perfect" and that I was ready to start meeting some good people! I should have emailed him back saying, "No picture. Wee bit of info. For all you know, I'm fatal attraction stepping onto your site. I'm 'bout ready to boil some rabbits and chase men with a large knife."

After I got myself signed up, I told my friend that I was ready to check out some guys for her. But first she wanted me to check out her profile and give her feedback to its content. I did and it was good. It was all authentic and just who she is. Then she asked me to look at a couple of guys and let her know what I thought. So I did.

But then she also noticed that I had no picture. She got mad and said that it wasn't fair if she had one up and I didn't. Really???? I'm just being supportive and helping to weed out some creeps. After some badgering I quickly put up a pic just to appease her.

We proceeded again to check out guys for her. She had been contacted by several and some we sent packing and a couple we decided were good enough to at least get to know a little. No harm, really, she could block any of those she felt were of no interest.

Then all of a sudden I started to get messages. One guy was really smooth. I couldn't help but jump up and down with excitement. His message read, "I just logged off and your pretty face just popped up on my computer are you teasing me?"

Oh gosh, cute guy with the cute line. I just got a little light-headed. Let me just race to reply and we'll get on the road to true love. Not long after that he sent 2 more messages asking me if we could "chat" and the other said that he kept running up to the bookstore to check his email hoping I'd responded.

I did write back: Ok, first of all, it's a little creepy that you keep sending me messages and I hadn't replied. Second, stop running back and forth. You'll only find I'm not sending you sweet messages and you'll most likely pass out anyway from lack of oxygen with all that running. Go hydrate yourself.

Another one wrote, "Acctually [sic], I work out every monday, wednesday, and friday. I'm currently doing Wendler's 5/3/1 routine. What do you do? lift weights? bodybuilding?"

Now this little guy obviously did not read my in-depth profile in which I clearly stated not to tell me how much you workout. Durrrrrrrrrr. But out of curiosity I looked at his profile. I'm 5'9".....he's 5'4". I like to wear heels sometimes that make me around 6'2" or 6'3". I'm guessing he wanted to go out with me so that I may have a walking end table by my side upon which to place my drink. I should probably bring a coaster, too.

Another guy wrote, "If you're in such good shape then why don't you post a picture from the neck down?"

Me: If I felt the need for your under-height weasley ass to tell me whether or not I'm in shape then I'll be sure to join some other trashy site. I know I'm in shape.

I didn't hear from him again. Wonder why.

After some time my friend told me that she was talking with a guy she met on the site. She asked me to go to his profile and once again give my feedback. I did. He seemed decent enough and I said, "Well, you really have nothing to lose and if you find he's creepy, just block him and move on. You have a bit of safety with the online thing that way."

Now, one thing with this site is that apparently you can see who has visited your profile. I was not aware of this at the time. Then my friend says, "He just asked me if I sent my friend to check out his profile."

"What? How does he know?"

"Ummmm, well, I may have a photo up on my profile that includes you and me."

"What????? Seriously, the whole point of this stalking thing is that I be undercover and sort of hang out in the bushes while you interact. I was only to give a few whistles and clicks in case I felt that any of them were creepers. Did we not go over this in Undercover Training 101??"

"I'm sorry! It's just a cute picture of us and I like it, so I put it up there! And he laughed about it anyway, he said you're a good wingman for helping me out."

"Well, whatever the case is, you have to allow me to run incognito during this operation. How can we claim victory when you're blowing my disguise?"

After all of that nonsense, she seems to have found someone to communicate with outside of the dating site. If it turns into everlasting love, I'll probably be the flower girl or the organist or the flutist at the wedding. Moose will decorate his cone with frills and flowers and grind out the chicken dance.