Tag Archives: stabby

Paint Can + Fighting Dogs / Fuzzy Slippers = Giant Mess

There are days when a cup of coffee is enough to get me going. Of course, today was not one of those days. Two cups apparently were not enough, either. This is how my day developed….

I completed the coffee ritual and began to take stock of the mess on the kitchen table. I had recently finished making some pincushions and still had the accoutrements scattered around looking like an art exhibit from the MOMA. Anyway, I took some of the stuff out to the garage, and as I was passing the hall bathroom, I noticed the little accent table I had acquired for the nook in the bathroom. It was in need of a quick sanding, so I went back to the garage and gave it a once-over, and brought it back into the kitchen, along with a quart of French Linen chalk paint. I wiped it down and let it dry as I took the rest of the crap to the garage or to the study-slash-catchall room.

(Yes, I have a lot of crap in the study and garage and hopefully it will be out of the house once the vendor spot opens in mid November *sobs quietly*)

Moving on, I get the table set up on the floor and open the can, a full quart of the loveliest dun color ever. I set it on the lowest shelf and begin to paint. Meanwhile, my dogs wander over to see what I am doing, since the scent is different from dog food and leftovers and Sonic tatertots. As they jockey for position to get as close as possible to me without having to deal with the scent, Lenny the big dog steps on Ivy the little dog, which makes Ivy irate and forces her to strike back in the only manner she can: using her itty bitty canines and jump at Lenny’s throat. Well, Lenny does NOT like that and turns to snap back at Ivy, which makes Ivy jump more at Lenny and causes Lenny to swing her body around and hit the table, knocking the paint can to the floor.

“GOOD LORD!!! YOU DOGS!!! LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID!!! NO!!! GET AWAY!!! GO TO YOUR SPOTS NOW!!! STOP TRYING TO LICK THE PAINT, YOU IDIOTS!!! AND STOP TRYING TO LICK ME WITH THE PAINT!!!”

Yeah….so, I hurriedly shooed them out the backdoor and scooped up as much of the paint as I could. Thankfully is it relatively thick paint so I recovered quite a bit. And being one to not waste not, I simply used the rest of the spilled paint to finish painting the first coat. One thing about chalk paint: clean up is easy. I just wiped the floor clean with a wet rag and scrubbed the grout with a toothbrush. Once I was done, I washed the paint out of my clothes, and then went and showered again, because somehow I had paint in my hair. Aggie’s Axiom #18: no matter what I am painting, or how much I cover my hair, paint will eventually get on it and usually towards the back thus defying explanation.

So yes, that was my morning, and rest assured several lessons were learned here:

  • Never rely on one cup of coffee
  • Make sure to corral the dogs before starting to paint
  • Avoid doggie drama and paint outside

Tomorrow is a new day, and I have a new bag of coffee waiting for me ๐Ÿ˜‰


General Random Stuff That Makes Me Not So Happy

Sorry I have been absent from the blog so long. It has been a rather weird few weeks since school let out. I find myself making list after list of things to pack up and things to purge and things to finish and the only thing I have done is write the lists. So much fail, I know.

Yesterday I was in the checkout line at the grocery store wondering what to make for dinner even though I was actually purchasing food when I saw a little girl looking at the magazines on the rack. She was looking at some young actress who was on the cover with her hair blown away from her face, her arms at her hips, and her face a mask of what I can figure is “anger” (but most likely a product of “Pout for me, dahlink!!” from the photographer). And in what can only be described as sadness, I watched her pretend to be just like that glossy, unrealistic photograph: arms at hips, lips pouting, hair being tossed back. I hate those magazines. I really, really do. They are in the business of making every single woman feel UGLY!!! I have zero respect for a periodical that tells me I need to dye my hair and lose those pesky pounds or I will lose him and not get promoted to my dream job. We women are contrary creatures. You tell me I need to lose weight, and I will grab a quart of ice cream and eat it all while smirking in your face. And I will love every single spoonful!!

I went to make an appointment for my dogs to be groomed because I am far to busy making lists to do that, and when I whipped out my iPhone 3 to put the date in my calendar, the receptionist told me I should upgrade to a better phone. She told me. First, it isn’t anyone’s business what phone I own, and second, her name was not Graham Bell. I was a bit stunned at first, but then she went on about how new phone have better technology and you can do so much more with them. I politely asked what, and she informed me that Candy Crush and some muffin game were in HD now. I asked about GPS and she replied (and I kid you not), “I don’t play that game.” I took the opportunity to let her know I prefer a phone that is so outdated the NSA can’t track me. She asked if that was my parents’ service. I said yes and then just left. Honestly, I can’t even.

So that has been my week so far. I realize it is only Tuesday so there is plenty more that can possibly set me off like a firecracker, but I prefer to be positive and look on the bright side of things. Well, metaphorically speaking anyway, since another storm system is moving through here. And of course, Blue Bellโ„ข is not yet back in production. This whole positive thinking is hard without Blue Bellโ„ข and sunshine, so I’m going to stop rambling and go watch Ghost Whisperer and eat some yogurt. If that doesn’t work, five o’clock will eventually come around ๐Ÿ˜€


How Movie Grief Could Have Been Avoided

I am getting rather cantankerous in my old age. I don’t go to the movies often, not just because it is outrageously expensive but also because the movie plots tend to get me mad. It is difficult sitting there and keeping quiet when all you want to do is scream about how a monkey could have done a better job of writing this massive waste of celluloid. Or worse, how the whole plots could have been resolved in FIVE MINUTES!!!

For example, take The Lord of the Rings trilogy and The Hobbit trilogy. The first time I watched it it was all “Oooooh!!!” and “WOW!!!” and “ZOMG!!!”. But the second time all I could think about was how they could have just flown the eagles over the mountain and dropped the damn ring in there. I understand the concept of “allegory” but I also understand the concept of “logic”.

And then there’s Sleeping Beauty. Walt Disney loved to bring a fairy tale to life. Few people know he was actually involved in The Little Mermaid way back in the 1940’s. Dude was all about the “happily ever after”. But every time that movie comes on, all I can think about how all the angst could have been avoided if only they had sent an invitation to Maleficent!!! That’s it. She wouldn’t have even shown up anyway had she been invited.

And I don’t even have to explain my abhorrence for Fifty Shades of Grey. Or is it “Gray”? Sometimes English confuses me. But c’mon! A good looking guy tells you to sign a contract so he will own you and you have no rights whatsoever? Leaving the domestic abuse issue aside, the horrible writing, the impossibility of a 26 year old billionaire, and all the trappings, who would sign a contract to be treated like offal?

I should stop here. I know that Lent is having an effect on me. Ok, lack of chocolate is having this effect on me. Fine….FINE!!! Lack of wine, too. I have two weeks to go and miles before I am done. But I have patience, will, and time.

And a box of Peeps with my name on it ๐Ÿ˜€


Finding My Happy Place For Today

Unfortunately, I have to find it without the aid of candy or wine. I already vented my spleen over at Uncivil Peasants (NSFW), and feel the need for happy thoughts because if I don’t, I may just vent something else, like a carburetor.

happy tuesday

It’s not just politics that make me want to force choke the milk carton. It’s also the lack of empathy I witness everywhere. I witness the disparaging remarks of a “pacifist” towards a soldier and wonder what happened to civility. I watch commercials showing disrespectful children sassing their parents and wonder what happened to manners (don’t get me started on the teen eating out of the cereal box and drinking out of the milk carton). I see History repeating itself while lamenting how we don’t learn from it. There is a quiz going around social media that asks “How smart are you?”. I saw it pop up on my social-site-with-faces page and saw all who took it got “PhD” level. ALL OF THEM. But it was our friend SoCal who pointed out the obvious: every question was something he learned back in elementary school. And yet that qualified one as PhD level? Is that how far education has fallen?

I picked a heck of a time to quit eating sweets. I guess yoga will have to suffice until Easter. Ok, maybe not yoga but perhaps thinking about yoga. I have my limits, and so do my tendons ๐Ÿ˜€


It’s Not Even March, and I Already Have a List of Things That Annoy Me

I use the word “annoy” because I know the NSA is listening.

Last year the list was compiled around July. I was hoping this year’s list would be compiled around November, but no such luck. Please bear with me. I need to vent a bit.

In fact, I suggest y’all vent while you still can.

Net Neutrality is becoming more of a certainty than a myth. It’s almost like they have forgotten the fiasco called Fairness Doctrine. But that doesn’t matter, because there is a pen and a phone involved. The same administration that botched a healthcare website wants to have control of the Internet, because 1934 was a very good year. And speaking of the Internet…

….The dress is ugly. Just drop it already. While people have been fighting over the colors, ISIS decided to start moving into Lebanon, Putin is cradling the Ukraine, bloggers are being targeted and at least one who is an American citizen has been beheaded in the name of *puny god*, the administration is pushing for an ammunition ban, and the president of this fine country is making sure to play chicken with Congress. But I bet that dress will be the Halloween costume of 2015.

We have an administration that is willing to fight the enemy with hashtags, and an enemy that is willing to fight us with death. But most people are still swooning over who wore it best at the Oscars, or wondering when Kim Kardashian will attempt to break the Internet again, or who will win American Idol #3,482. Our own leaders refuse to acknowledge the religious dogma of those who wish to kill in that name. Is it any wonder wine sales are up?

I’m annoyed. I am very annoyed. And I really hope y’all are, too.

Complacency is the fastest way to a ball and chain.


Weekend Sithy

As y’all know, I am not a fan of censorship. Sure, my blog, my rules. But overall, I’m a big proponent of the First Amendment. I may not agree with the vile and idiotic stuff out there, but I do want to hear it, if only to identify the vile and stupid. One of the scariest things to happen this week was Sony Entertainment’s capitulation to North Korea regarding their movie, The Interview. Was I going to see it? Not likely. I do like my humor irreverent, but I can wait for it to show up on TV. But that was not the point. In short the Norks didn’t like it, so they threatened Sony by hacking and promising a “9/11” type of attack, and Sony caved. And so did Paramount with Team America: World Police. That really doesn’t make sense to me because Kim Jong Il is dead already. The hacking also makes no sense because that country barely keeps its lights on as it is, so it is my opinion they had some outside help. But no matter. They revealed how soft and easily manipulated we have become. Well, some of us. Personally, I would have shown the movie anyway and given away free popcorn.

But enough gloom and doom. Enjoy this weekend’s Sithy, courtesy of a Rottie friend.

star wars newspaper lol

Now, that is how you do it ๐Ÿ˜‰


Of Champagne and Train Wrecks

This past Sunday morning was rather uneventful as usual. Normally I get up and make myself my first of three cups of coffee, and sit down to read news from around the world. But I was feeling a bit overwhelmed with the State of Fearโ„ข constantly bombarding my social and blog sites, so I decided to watch TV. I was hoping for some fun show where they completely demolish your kitchen/ bathroom/ house and rebuild it with some neat upgrades like a complete sound system in the shower or a wine dispenser in the kitchen.

Yes, they do make those.

Anyway, I was scrolling along and the next thing I see is a pair of Louboutin shoes on display on some show. I had to stop and look. Look, they were Louboutins, ok?? So I start watching two women discussing the pros and cons of buying that particular pair of studded Louboutins for a catering event and how one of the gals just HAD to get them in order to make a statement at said catering event. Then it turns out it was a commercial for some reality TV show, but before I could change it, ANOTHER reality TV show came on, and it was about a pack of wild hyenas group of well-to-do ladies (and I use that term loosely) from Melbourne, Australia called Real Housewives of Melbourne. Let me tell you, the only truth in that title is the name of the city. And so began my descent into the maelstrom of fake reality TV.

I picked up the storyline from the time Gal 1 decided to take all of them to an exclusive resort, where some of the others decided it was the opportune time to accuse her of talking behind their backs and Gal 1 AKA Barrister had enough and left them there, and Gal 2 AKA Switzerland called her to make sure she was ok, but the others ignored her, and then Gal 3 Mystic was scrambling to launch a cocktail line, but wanted a date with her hubby, so she and Gal 4 AKA Pilot went shopping at Agent Provocateur and spent $4,500 on a piece of lingerie, which her rocker hubby adored to the tune of $6,000 diamond earrings, while Gal 5 AKA Instigator is trying to fan the flames while trying to put them out between Barrister and Gal 6 AKA Plastic Barbie. So Barrister is being actively ostracized by all but Switzerland, and Mystic, who is keeping everyone at arms’ length because she comes from Newcastle and her mom is Russian and she has seen serious crap go down. And Plastic barbie is writing a book about how women can have it all (because that has never, ever been done) and is joining forces with Pilot who is also writing a book, but no one knows about what because she is too busy talking about her fantastic life and her fantastic dog. Then you have Switzerland trying to patch things up between Plastic Barbie and Barrister in a limo on the way to a special private opening of a new store from America called “West Elm”.

And this is where I lost it, yelling at the TV, “HA! I shop there you rich bimbos. You ain’t better than me!!”

And Hubby gave me a smile and a little pitying look right then.

Anyway, Switzerland is trying to make the peace by opening champagne and telling all of them this is some girl time to talk things out, because as normal people know, shopping is when women talk to each other. But then Plastic barbie gets it in her head to talk about Barrister RIGHT THERE and there is nothing Switzerland can do to mend the rifts, and Instigator full well owns up to having had a hand in it, and is cheered on by Pilot for being such a stand-up person, when in the real world a normal woman would have scratched her eyes out for being so duplicitous. So on to Mystic and her alcohol and she is by far the most normal of the Rich Pack. She doesn’t own a dog, but if she did, she wouldn’t subject it to dressing it up in costumes or taking it to a pooch party, which totally happened. Anyway she and rocker hubby are launching a new line of cocktails and she decides she doesn’t need the drama, so she steers as clear as one can while being followed around with cameras. Meanwhile Instigator and Switzerland confront Barrister to make her go apologize to Plastic Barbie, and that she needs to own up to what she had called Barbie and Pilot. So Barrister meets with Barbie and the amount of FAIL could only be measured on a Richter scale. Because as normal people know, women with chips on shoulders will never apologize when cameras are rolling. And so on to the end of this champagne-fueled train wreck, where the cocktail line is launching, and all the gals are in attendance for Mystic, while Barrister is actively ignored by Pilot and Barbie. The launch is a success, and at the end all six go sit to talk things out, and with drinks flowing and tongues wagging, it’s a miracle it was intelligible enough for closed-captioning. And still Barrister didn’t apologize, Pilot is still musing about a book, Barbie is still mad, Instigator is held at arms’ length, Switzerland has given up, and Mystic is as adjusted as a psychic married to a rock star and launching a cocktail line can be.

So I wasted my Sunday morning watching a bunch of pretentious women have cat fights on TV. Y’all didn’t think I was serious when I say I live a boring life, did you? Well, now you have proof ๐Ÿ˜€


When Progress Regresses

Tuesday, I was at the Dept. of Public Safety, Driver’s License office.

Yes, the dreaded DMV.

Normally I never have a long wait. The office is small and out of the mainstream, so it’s usually quiet. The longest I have ever had to wait was maybe 30 minutes. In retrospect, I have never waited long at any DMV office. I hear the agonizing stories from friends near and far, and I wondered why I had such good luck in my experiences with the government entity in charge of your identification.

I wonder no more.

You see, back in the old days, circa 2012, one would go into the office, pick a number, and proceed to wait until their number was called. It was a simple procedure and it was designed to service everyone regardless of reason. If you were there to take a test, you had to take a number, then be called, then they would issue you another number and you would go wait in another area to take your written or driving test. Simple and straightforward.

Take-A-Number1

Yesterday, I went in with Son to get his driver’s permit. I walk in and find a new contraption in the number dispenser’s place.

kiosk

Well, ok….. Son takes a number and we are instructed to look for our approximate waiting time on the NEW AND IMPROVED BOARD. The new board is divided into four groups: renewals/ replacements, driving test, new DL or ID, and “other”. And we realize that in a room of maybe 16 people, our wait time is almost three hours. At this time my Spock ears started twitching because there was a metric ton of logic missing from that estimate. So I began to converse with those waiting in Hell line. One lady had been there for two hours already, for a renewal. A young man was the ONLY one in line for a driver’s test, which the board said would be in five minutes, for the last hour. Something was off, but in my experience sugar is always better than vinegar. Unless you are making sauerkraut, I guess. I look around and see a sign for appointments, so I asked one of the DMV workers if they took appointments. And thus clarity began to form.

It turns out that office recently began to take appointments. You call and make an appointment for a certain day and time, and walk in when you are ready. But the website is ALSO taking appointments, without the co-ordination of the actual office workers taking phone appointments. So in the quest to make things easier for people who can’t or wish not to wait, the appointments are lumped in the “first come, first serve” basis even if you aren’t there. So someone that has a 9:00 AM appointment will be ahead of the person who came in and took a ticket at 8:05 AM. Before, if you needed to do anything at the DMV, you had to come in and wait your turn like everyone else. Now, not so much. The young man who was told he would only wait for another five minutes? He left after almost a three hour wait.

I’m not against technology or progress, but I am definitely in the “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” camp. This is why I still use stationery and am scouring the flea market for a typewriter and a rotary phone ๐Ÿ˜‰


There Are Days….

I confess I have had a rough time finding topics for this blog. It’s not that there isn’t stuff out there on which I can bloviate. It’s just that sometimes I don’t have the motivation to write about pithy crap. This isn’t a serious blog, and I try to keep it light and full of fluff. There are days when that is sorely tested.

I see friends on social media come to cyberspace blows due to differences in opinion.

I see family over-react when they see a nebulous comment from a member.

I see tin foil and all-seeing eyes while people leave Occam’s awesome razor to rust.

I see hypocrisy thinly veiled as superiority.

But the thing I see most is people DEMANDING their right to be offended.

fb drama lol

Last I checked, that wasn’t on the Bill of Rights, and it sure as Hades not endowed by our Creator. If you are offended by something, first take a minute to ask yourself why. Figure out the cause of the offense before you go off on someone who may not have the same grade of skin thickness that you do. If you don’t like what someone has posted, let your fingers do the walking and scroll right by. If you feel that someone’s opinion is making the delicate walls of your echo chamber quiver like Jell-Oโ„ข, then by all means use that finger of yours and hide or delete the offending character. Getting into a CAPS LOCK match wastes everyone’s time, and you could possibly break a nail when pounding out your sensibilities.

Remember: social media isn’t a one way street.


Raginess Cranked Up to Eleven

Ever have one of those days when you are driving to a certain locale, having left with time to spare, only to find yourself driving behind someone doing ten miles below the speed limit, weaving in his lane because they are consulting their smartphone, then find themselves slowing down further because they are no longer watching the road but instead seem to be dialing said smartphone, and while dialing, the driver hits the curb and over-corrects into the oncoming traffic lane, over-correcting again, and then stopping on the train tracks and panicking because here comes a train and he needs to reverse his vehicle because the caution arm was coming down any second, so I had to swerve into the left turn only lane so he would have more room to avoid becoming a statistic, thus forcing me to turn in the opposite direction of where I wanted to go, making me do a legal U-turn a few streets down, and finally catching up to the same driver, who was still talking on his phone, and who screeched to a halt in the middle of an intersection because he just noticed that was his turn?

Anyone have one of those days?

I can’t be the only one.

Normally I am a very patient person. I don’t care if someone has more than ten items in the express check-out. I don’t care if someone is taking their time adjusting their seat while I await their parking space. I don’t care if someone blocks an entrance because they stopped to answer a text.

But acting irresponsibly while operating a vehicle? You have now crossed the Rubicon, jackass. I did what any worried mother would have done: applied copious pressure on the horn, followed him as he turned right, sidled next to him, rolled down my window and yelled, “HEY, YOU MAY WANT TO PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR DRIVING, AND PERHAPS THE TRAIN’S DRIVING WHILE YOU’RE AT IT!!”

The look he gave me was worth it. He was so stunned he missed his turn at the light. After that my rage began to subside and I became my normal, happy self again. I managed to run my errands in time and get home in time to begin making dinner.

And no one questioned me when I had a second glass of wine ๐Ÿ˜€