Powder Room Mystery – the Panic is REAL

I just went to the restroom at work again.

 

Nope…he’s not on the sink anymore:

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He’s not in the lounge, either:

 

I wandered about the office – he’s not ANYWHERE.  I even checked in with the guy in the corner office:

New CEO

I think the guy in the corner office is kinda an airhead

 

The only thing I can think is…the cup…has…ESCAPED.

 

Do you hear me, folks?  The cup has broken containment – he’s loose upon the world!

RUN FOR THE HILLS!

 

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Public Enemy #1

The Continuing Mystery of Powder Room Mayhem…

I went to the bathroom at work this morning.

Well, when ya gotta go…

And the little cup was no longer in the stall.

**Sob**

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He’s now on the sink.  The sucker is MOBILE!

**sentience in plastics?  Is this how you get Skynet???**

I feel as if someone in this odd, work/potty relationship has either dodged a bullet, or just  witnessed the beginning of the end of the Human species…and I’m not sure if I should be excited, or terrified.

At least I’ll be in the right place if I get the shit scared outta me.

 

Attack of the Killer Sidewalk

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I was accosted last night, on leaving the movie theater (the SQO wanted to see Kong:  Skull Island again) by a patch of pavement.

I think it must have been tired of all the people walking on its face.  I know I’d be irritated if, all day and all night long, there were people walking all over me.

I get enough of that at work, TYVM….

 

I really DO feel sorry for the sidewalk.  It gets frozen in the winter, with just brief glimpses of sunshine to warm its stony heart.  It gets covered in snow, and then rudely scraped of this insulating layer of semi-moisture.  Most times, it gets salt thrown over it, which is allowed to dry out its surface.  And always…feet.  Hundreds, if not thousands, of pairs of feet in boots, soft soles, and the damn stiletto heels pounding on its face over and over and over again.

Summers aren’t much better.  Baked to egg-frying temperatures by the sun.  Rained on.  Sometimes watered in the cool summer mornings by groundskeepers intent on keeping the grass green.  Used (and abused) by skateboarders and roller-bladers, rolled over by bikes & wagons & strollers.  Tickled in the belly by subterranean bugs and weeds determined to punch through.

It ain’t easy…being a sidewalk.

I’m sure it took my inattention of my surroundings as the perfect opportunity to get even.

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For those of you confused by my words…here’s the simpler version…I fell down and went boom.

Actually, I clearly recall saying Oh, Shit…but I digress…

 

I scared the shit outta the SQO.  I also frightened two innocent bystanders into showing concern.  Chivalry isn’t dead in this country after all.  The one lady behind me was thoughtful (and brave, given my feet) enough to retrieve my shoe, and the other one helped me gather up my keys (the mass of chain, rings and keys separated into 3 different portions).  Between them, D, and myself, I was once again put in an upright and bipedal position.  I managed to finish the walk to my car, drive home, and go up the stairs to the front door.

Oddly enough, today…I do not have any bruises.  I have muscular aches all along my left leg, and my left palm is VERY sensitive…but no bruises to show for this brutal attack on my sorry self.

And I’ll offer this tidbit of advice for all you carefree walkers out there –

Watch out for those sinister sidewalks – you never know when one is gonna rise up and exact a bit of revenge…

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The Dog Days of Disaster

 

This is a special little request from Maggie over at The Zombies Ate my Brains

Hot dogs.

In the US – the hot dog can be just about anything.  Technically, it’s a thin cylinder of ground meat – usually a blend of a couple different proteins –  various flavorants and binders, heated until cooked through, then slapped on a thicker tube of sliced, baked bread product before being garnished with the consumer’s choice from a cornucopia of sauces, veggies and seasonings.

historyofchicagodogWe have the world-famous Chicago-style Red-Hots… This is an all beef dog, white-bread bun with poppy-seeds baked into the top, garnished with sweet pickle relish, onions, mustard, tomato, a dill pickle spear, sport peppers and just a shot of celery salt.

They take their dogs seriously in the windy city…

 

We also have your ‘Gourmet-blend’ dogs –  which are ‘flavored with a bounty of the freshest herbs and spices,’ have a ‘special coarse-grind blend of the finest cuts of beef and pork,’ and come in an all-natural casing… served hot and steamy on a 7 grain ‘artisan’ bun, lovingly topped with a generous portion of garlic-and-Parmesan aioli.

 

l278978301In the tiny town of Waterloo, WI – they have a festival around dogs called Weiner & Kraut days.  Every man, woman and child within a 5 county radius descend on this small town for an entire weekend to devour all the hot dogs they can eat, with as much sourkraut, mustard and onions as can be (un)reasonably crammed atop the bun.

They use the collected gastro-emissions to power the town all winter long.

 

We have your standard, mass-produced industrial sausages – sold with catchy jingles, cartoon-dogs dancing the night away, and, if you’re lucky, you might just get a Weenie-whistle from the spokes-Weenie-wagon as it passes through your home town.

But only if you can sing the jingle…

Hell, we Wisconsinites even tied the hot dog to our Baseball team.  At any Brewer’s game throughout the season, the half-time show includes the Klement’s Sausage Races.

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Look at them Weenies RUN!

Everywhere, throughout the States, you can find this ubiquitous processed meat-product.  They’re in convenience stores on the special roller-grills.  They’re in concession stands in parks, stadiums, fairgrounds, and all your better tourist traps.  Hell, in the bigger cities, there are even these little carts that some guy pushes around on the street – dogs on the go, for those on the go…anytime…anyplace!

And…of course – every day the temperature reaches above 50 degrees in this state – you can bet your last dollar that some fella has fired up the grill in the backyard to flame-roast these special little tube steaks in an attempt to blot out the memory of winter.

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I prefer my hot dogs coarse grind, natural casing, slightly spicy, with a good, grainy mustard and plenty of raw onions.  Occasionally, I’ll go for either chili or sourkraut – but I gotta be in juuuuuuuuuuust the right mood.

the Wasband, on the other hand, worships ketchup.  In his mind, that shit goes on everything.  Dogs?  Ketchup.  Enough to float the Titanic.  Steak?  Ketchup.  Enough to kill the taste.  Fish?  Ketchup.  Enough to make the breading soggy.  He likes his ketchup with a sprinkling of french fries, and adds the vile stuff to chili.  He’s the only person I’ve ever seen take one of the little ketchup packets given out by any take-out restaurant, tear the foil, and suck the package dry.

Ewwwww!

I personally disliked ketchup before I went keto.  Now…you might as well just sit with the sugar bowl and spoon the crystallized stuff directly into your mouth while sucking on a tomato.

It’s.  That.  Sweet.

But to the Wazband – ketchup is not a condiment.  It’s a vegetable…and one that needs to be consumed in mass quantities at every meal.

On one of our day vacations, we went to one of the summer water-park tourist traps in the area.   We spent the day frolicking in the huge pool of antiseptically-clean water, appropriately themed  with fiberglass statues and carefully selected plants interspersed through and around the concrete walkways with an estimated 209,000 other people who had the same idea.

For me…this was the perfect opportunity to work on my sunburn.  Nothing turns my pale skin the color of a freshly boiled lobster faster than spending time in the center of a gigantic, sunlight-reflecting pool of water.

For the record, I have two skin tones…red and white.  There are no shades of brown in between.

We splashed in the shallows, rode innertubes in the wave pool, and stood in line for the water slides, the toilets, the single patch of shade hidden in the middle of this concrete jungle.

When tummies started growling, we ducked out of the water to stand in line for one of the multitude of vendor stands surrounding the park.

Their specialty was ‘The Best Damn Hot Dogs in the Dells…’

By this point, I swear my skin was audibly sizzling…and a table opened up IN THE SHADE.  I rattled off a very simple order to the Wazband, and ran to claim the table before I burst into active flame.

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He brought to the table our Cokes, two orders of fries, and a plate full of ketchup.  He swore to me there ware actual hot dogs, in buns, under the red goop.

I bit my tongue.

Counted to 10.

Bit my tongue again.

Selected an even higher number.

Chomped on that sucker a third time….just in case.

And asked – deadpan:  ‘Why is there an ocean of ketchup on my hot dog?’

 

He hadn’t considered, even though we’d been a couple for at least a decade at this point, that I despise ketchup.  He’d dressed the dogs to his preference without any thought.

I ate a lot of fries that afternoon.  He ate the hot dogs.  There was no saving them from the red menace.

NEVER leave a man alone with your hot dog.  They can’t be trusted.

And I still have tooth-marks on my tongue.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Survey Team

Anyone else out there absolutely despise surveys?

Amazon:  Please rate your recent transaction… Shit received.  The end.

Etsy :  Don’t forget to leave a review… Shit received.  The end.

The oil change place:  How was your visit?   Shit received.  The end.

All good feedback, no?

The Census Bureau:  Your address has been randomly selected to fill out this 19 page, incredibly intrusive document demanding various snippets of very personal information about you and all occupants currently residing at this address to better allow our political units to fuck the little guy.  (slight embellishments may have been added).   Oh…and if you don’t comply – we’re gonna send agents to your home to bang on your door for 20 minutes in an effort to annoy this information outta you.

Topping it off – this official request for information was addressed to ‘Current Occupant.’

Ya wanna know what I do with any mail that ends up in my hands sporting those words?

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If it’s an official Government demand (complete with fines for non-compliance) you’d think they’d at least put a NAME on their documents.   I guess cutbacks are a good excuse for laziness in paperwork.

When they’ve acknowledged that there’s an actual person at the receiving end of their badgering…I’ll give them the information they’ve demanded.  But…they’re gonna EARN it the hard way.

Anyway – Government-agency annoyances aside – The ever-so-famous Blair of The Shameful Sheep had some fun with a survey that’s going around in the Blog-o-sphere…and since I’m needing the practice of filling out and publicizing personal information…I figured I’d give it a whirl, too…

  1. Who are you named after? 
    1. My parents were Buddy Holly fans…so when I came out, screaming and red-faced, somehow, it was deemed appropriate to name me Peggy Sue.  Yup…that’s the legal name.
    2. The name was so much fun – especially in 7th grade when the choral teacher decided this little archaic ditty would be PERFECT to teach the class.  Gleefully, the rest of the class focused on singing “Porky Sue” instead of sticking to the original lyrics.
    3. Kids are mean-spirited little fucks at that age.
  2. Do you like your handwriting?
    1. Well…doctors look at my left-handed scrawl and proclaim:  I can’t read this shit!   Even I have trouble sometimes deciphering what I’ve scrawled on a piece of paper with pen, pencil, crayon, magic marker, or bloody fingertips.  My handwriting looks funny, weird, sloppy, bizarre and/or totally written in code, depending on my frame of mind.
    2. My ‘I’m pissed at you’ handwriting is particularly messy and completely unreadable…Although, once I did draw out a picture of a hand clutching a rose, middle finger proudly extended, and sent that as a formal ‘fuck you’ to someone who’d irritated me.
  3. What is your favorite lunch meat?
    1. The answer to all meat-related questions MUST be bacon.  It’s kinda a rule.
    2. Did someone say BACON???
  4. Longest relationship? 
    1. The wuzband and I would have celebrated (teeth firmly grinding together) our 13th anniversary had I not decided I needed an actual life.
    2. My current SQO and I are rapidly approaching our own 7 year itch, and have stocked up on Gold Bond Powder for the event.
  5. Do you still have your tonsils?
    1. I am proud to admit I still come with all my original parts.
    2. Oh, wait…wisdom & baby teeth don’t count…right???
  6. Would you bungee jump? 
    1. Why would someone jump off a perfectly good platform?  Unless that thing is on fire – and I’m on some pretty intense ‘controlled substances’ – or I’m seriously distracted by, oh….say….DRAGONS flying in the sky….
    2. no.
  7. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?
    1. I own no shoes with those ‘laces’ things.
    2. SLIP ON’S FTMFW, baby!
  8. Favorite ice cream?
    1. As I’ve been doing the ketosis thing for 9 months, ice cream is one of the things I had to give up.  It wasn’t a big deal, as the heartburn & headaches produced by consumption of this cold, creamy sweet stuff were fairly prohibitive before keto.  If it was slightly tangy (orange, lemon, etc…), though…I’d dive in.
    2. There’s a place here which serves frozen custard (which most denizens of the Greater Milwaukee Metroplex will agree is far superior to your standard ice cream) called Kopp’s Custard.  They make the absolute BEST Lemon Citron custard around…and their lemon-raspberry cheesecake flavor was a close second.  A Pint (or 2) of that was well worth the pain.
  9. What is the first thing you notice about people?
    1. It depends on the smell.  If they’ve recently marinated in their favorite perfume or axe body spray, I walk the other way before they’re in visual/speaking range.  Nobody wants to be accosted by a chemical shit-storm of fragrance.  Ditto on au naturel – I don’t need my eyes bleeding from your rank sweat.
    2. Bathed and/or otherwise inoffensive people – the first thing I notice are their hands.  You do so much with hands – why not let them lead the way in any introductions.
  10. Football or baseball? 
    1. The wuzband – huge into football, as is most of the state.  Basically, we’re a beer state with a Packer problem.
    2. The SQO – Brewers all the way.
    3. Me – Balls should be played with in the privacy of your own home, dark parking lots, or the back rows of movie theaters…not in a stadium in front of millions of screaming viewers.
  11. What color pants are you wearing? 
    1. Once you go black, you never go back.
  12. Last thing you ate?
    1. See question #3.
    2. Did someone say BACON????
  13. If you were a crayon what color would you be?
  14. Favorite smell?
    1. There are too many to list here.  I love the smell of bacon in the morning (smells like victory!).  I also love my sandalwood soap, the sage I burn prior to whammy-work, and cinnamon or vanilla candles.
  15. Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone?
    1. I.  Hate.  My.  Phone.  I’d rather gouge both my eyes out with a shit-covered pencil than attempt to have a meaningful conversation with a little box of plastic, wire and glass plastered to the side of my head.
  16. Hair color? 
    1. Well…lemme see, here.  I’ve got some red.  I’ve got some brown.  I’ve got some black.  I’ve got some gray.  I’M A MUTT!
    2. Once, I dyed half my hair blonde, the other half red.  That way – if I wanted to be blonde, I’d brush it toward one side, red – the other.  I also had a purple rat tail.
  17. Eye color?
    1. Brown.  I’m THAT full of shit.
  18. Favorite foods to eat?
    1. Say it with me, folks…..BACON.
      1. I’m also currently obsessed with rutabaga.  Slice them things up into fry-like forms, slather with olive oil, sprinkle with as much garlic powder as you can stand, and bake until browned & sizzly.
  19. Scary movies or happy endings? 
    1. I don’t know a lot of movies I can consistently watch to the end, as I tend to fall asleep when I’m all cozy and slightly entertained…so there goes the happy ending part.
  20. Last movie you watched? 
    1. to the end?
    2. Right now, I’m watching, and watching, and watching, and falling asleep to V for Vendetta.  I’ll probably switch it out when Netflix takes it off their streaming menu.
  21. Favorite holiday? 
    1. National Bacon Day.
    2. It should really be bacon month…or just have everyday in the year be bacon day.  Who can I reach out to to get this done?
  22. Beer or wine? 
    1. I’m the oddity in a state which runs on hops….I’d choose wine.  Beer is nasty stuff.
    2. My kids are beer snobs.  They call the commercially available stuff (think Miller or Budweiser) canoe sex…fucking close to water.
  23. Night owl or early bird? 
    1. I consider it sleeping in if I stay in bed later than 7 am.  Been working so long at standardized day shift hours, I wouldn’t know how to stay up late.
  24. Favorite day of the week? 
    1. I lurves me some Sunday.  Not because I can’t wait to be close to the Lord (me & my witchy ways notwithstanding) but because everyone else in the household is sleeping/working/out doing running – and I have the place to MYSELF.
    2. Mondays.  Suck.  For the record.
  25. Which three of your favorite bloggers do you want to know more about? 
    1. Here’s the awesome “PAY IT FORWARD” stuff you see in all of these survey types.  I ain’t gonna inflict this pain on anyone else.  But…if yer a glutton for punishment – knock yer socks off.  I’ll read it…really, I will.

 

Anyone wanna see me take video of dropping a full bag of cat shit out the window the next time the census dorks come ringing my doorbell?

Happy VD

You know what I mean…not an itchy rash in the nether region…it’s Valentine’s day.

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The biggest sales event of the year for the floral and greeting card industries.

Botanical bribery and mushy sentiment, anyone?

Personally – I think the real magic in any big holiday is the after-event sales, especially when candy is involved.  Granted, the really good stuff goes fast (if it shows up on sale at all) and all you’re left with by 4pm on the 15th of February is the cheap Palmer’s, Hershey’s and Cadbury, but still.  It’s chocolate, in heart-shaped chunks, at unbelievable ‘we gotta sell this shit’ prices.

This year, I’m 9 months sugar-free – so no more frenzied After VD chocolate shopping for me – although I might brave the crowds to get some discounted stuff for the SQO.

If that ain’t love, I don’t know what is ❤

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On Unintentional Funnies

 

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We humans are communicative creatures… we LOVE to share words and concepts.  In our ancient past, these words and concepts were shared verbally, through stories and music, by tribal elders or mystical-persons, or, in the case of music, through the musicians and performers.  And everyone learned by having these traditions passed down verbally.

A little later, and the first writings appeared – pictorial at first, then cuneiform, hieroglyphic, hierarchic and other forms blending easy to reproduce abstract line-forms and pictorial representations,  and finally arriving at standardized alphabetical characters through a series of subtle metamorphosis.

I find it amazing that our languages are just as alive as us humans who created them.  They evolve right alongside us…  And, even if we’ve not added a single new letter to our alphabet for generations, we’ve added a multitude of new words, shortcuts, and pictograms as we continually explore communications.

Look at what the electronic revolution has done for us.  Instead of writing out “You made me chuckle at that one…” now, a simple LOL or picture of a laughing ball crystallize the message in a minimum number of characters.

I see this as both good, and bad.  As a writer – I see it as a dreadful shame that our beautiful language is being pared away bit by bit.  That new minds aren’t being afforded the opportunity to explore the diversity of adverbs and adjectives, piecing together old words in new ways to bring another’s imagination to full-color life from black & white print.

But I also see the efficiency of shortcuts and pictorial representations coming back to our communication attempts…and I love the artistic creativeness of some of our emojis..

 

Sometimes, our shortening of words or imposed limits on characters within an electronic ‘field’ have unintended, and hilarious, consequences.

This morning, as I checked my email – I received a notification that Maggie at The Zombies Ate My Brains had posted a new blog entry.  Here’s what I saw:

 

today

 

Hope they used the underwires to clean their teeth…