I'm the Cook Bitch!

I've been cooking for a long time. When I was a kid I made cookies and helped my Gram with dinner, and I was a regular attendee in my fathers kitchen. I know how to cook. I do it well. I've never poisoned anyone, or even made them a little sick! I'm good like that. Last night I made Goulash. A quick simple meal I can throw together. Except! The Capt. was home. He who cannot boil water for Mac and Cheese comes wandering into my kitchen....

The Capt: Hey! That smells great! That's sad that something as simple as onions, garlic, green peppers and burger smells great!

Me: Well, there's YumYum in there too...

The Capt: Whats YumYum?

Me: The pig my mom had slaughtered..... *(at which point his eyes might have opened so wide I was afraid they might fall out)


Me: Well, every other time I've cooked hamburger and pork sausage together you ate it and never died from it. You do know I've been cooking your food for almost 9 years now right? You're not dead yet...

The Capt: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYeeeyeyeyeyeyeaaaaaaaaaaaa Bacteria!!! BACTERIA!!!

I think he even fell to the floor clutching his stomach at one point. Anyway, it was good like usual. And The Capt. ate it like a good little boy. And! He didn't even DIE! Or go into CONVULSIONS! Or Anything!


Now all we have to work on is the Dreaded Left Overs. Just because it has been housed in that cold box in our kitchen for more than 2 days does not make food spoiled! I need to show him the difference between spoiled food and good food. Maybe I'll make a list of key things to look for on the fridge...

1. Is it growing fuzz, fur, fluff or spots?

2. Is it leaking strange colored fluids not associated with the original food color?

3. Does it have a sour smell, like sour milk?

If it has none of these indicators EAT IT AL-FUCKING-READY! IT'S FINE FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION! *geez*

This kid needed to grow up around my dad.




Word of the day...

Sometimes these things just fall in my lap and how could I live with myself if I didn't share them with you?

Word: Prosti-Tot

Definition: A young girl with too much makeup and not enough clothes.

An obviously underage girl who dresses like a whore...

(n) 1. Young Girl who dresses in a scandelous manner. 2. Female preteen
intent on attracting adult men.

Example of Proper usage: That prostitot should put on some clothes.

That prostitot is showing her diaper

Now I know what to call all those lil'girls I've simply been calling Whore.....




My first car.....

I've been tagged by Carissa to tell you folks about my first car. Let me tell you I cringe when I think of that thing, but when I got it? OOOOOoooo! Momma! I was a happy girl. I thought I was hot shit in that thing, yes, you can laugh at that. My very first car was a Vintage 1987 Chrysler Le Baron 4 door, 2.2 non turbo, Poop Brown with a lovely Maroon interior that I paid $1,000 for. This car came with an amazing set of problems. When I got it I knew it had a vacuum leak which caused it to tach out at 6,000 rpm's when you started it before dropping back down to a normal idle level. Not such a terrible problem except we could never find the leak, so every time I started my car it sounded like it might blow the fuck up unless I threw it into drive as soon as I started it. Which I did fairly often (because OMG! SO EMBARRASSING!), which, in case you're wondering, is NOT GOOD for the car. It didn't matter, I totally hearted this car in all it's Poop Browniness because it's Mine! MIIIIINE! The following winter the next problem showed up. No Heat. At All. Where I lived at the time was part of the snow belt in PA and most mornings it was many many degrees in the negative. No dipstick heater or magnetic oil pan heater in the world could make this car want to start. So on the days I could get my car to start I drove to work with many many blankets shivering all the way. At the time I was working for a dealership and I had a mechanic take a look at the car for me because No heat? Not OK. He took it out for a test drive and blew a giant hole in my radiator. Why you ask? Well because the previous owner or place where I bought this hunk of shit put sawdust in the radiator, which was the cause of my no heat problem. Would you like to know WHY they might put sawdust in my radiator? Well, let me tell ya. It's an old folk remedy for a leaky radiator the draw back to this remedy is that it plugs up the rest of the system, therefore, No Heat. So we flushed the system and put a new radiator in it. YAY for heat right? Right. On to the next issue with Poop browniness mobile. After the radiator problem the car decided it didn't really like to go more than 7 - 10 miles without a good rest. So it decided to make me stop. I could go 7 - 10 miles before the brakes would seize up on me. Oh, no not all at once, it was if I was driving with my foot on the brake pedal, the farther I would go the more pressure would be applied to the brakes. The remedy for this was to stop the car and wait. The pressure would back down after about 10 minutes and I could continue on my next 7 - 10 miles before my next stop. I shattered several sets of brake pads this way. Yes. Shattered. On several occasions I would get up early, drive to work and change my brake pads in the parking lot before work, or my dad would come to my work after he got done with work and change them for me so I could get home with out dying in a fiery Le Baron crash. We tried everything to fix this problem. We changed the Power Booster, Master Cylinder, Proportioning Valve, all the Steel lines, Brake Hoses (front and rear) and the Calipers and nothing ever fixed it. I think we put more money into this car in repairs that did nothing than what I paid for this car! Eventually I sold this car to a 16 year old who thought for sure he could fix it because Duh, I'm just a Girl! I MUST be doing something wrong! It gives me a sick sense of happiness to know he could never fix it either and it ended up sitting in a field rotting away and contaminating the ground water. Maybe if you're lucky, someday I'll tell you about the automotive travesty of existence my second car was!



Could someone stab me please?

I don't know what I did wrong. I have to have done something to deserve this. There has to be a reason. Let me recap and give you the details and you can tell me what I could have done to deserve such shittiness. We had the ice and slush shit yesterday so the Big Boss Man sent us all home at 2 due to bad roads. Yay, right? Not so much. I told The Capt. to shovel yesterday morning before it all froze to the ground. When I got home he had shoveled the porch steps. That was it. Ok, that's not so bad right? I go in the house and do the dishes and putter around, decide I'm hungry so I grab a yogurt out of the fridge. I walked over to the garbage can popped the lid and licked it. As I reel my tongue back it I realize it tastes like MOLD. *GAG* I turn, throw the yogurt, spoon and all, into the trash and haul ass to the bathroom fighting my gag reflex the whole way. Twenty minutes later I can still taste mold. *shudder* We went out to lunch (which sucked) came home and finished shoveling. We decided last night since my car is better in the snow he would take my car today. He has farther to go than me. Make sense right? We get up this morning, he gets ready to go just as I'm hopping in the shower. I finish getting ready, go out, start up the truck and realize he didn't put the trash out. This is the first indicator of the shittiness to follow. I go back into the house, grab all my stuff and lock up. I throw my stuff in the truck, put the trash out and go to scrape the truck off. I searched everywhere in that tiny little truck and guess what..... NO SCRAPER. Fuck. Back to the house, search around and the best thing I could find to try and scrape the windshield was a spatula. Now I am starting to get pissed. The spatula did absolutely NOTHING so I figured fuck it I can see enough to drive to work I just can't use the wipers, I'll just go to work and use someone else's scraper. Hop in the truck throw it in reverse and *Zzzzzzppphhhbbb*. Grrr... Ok, I'll rock it out. First gear, reverse, first gear, reverse...... I can't even get it to rock. Now my brain is starting to scream a little because IF HE'D JUST SHOVELED YESTERDAY MORNING LIKE I SAID TO I WOULDN'T HAVE THIS FUCKING PROBLEM. GAH. Fucker. So I called one of the guys at work, got him to come and get me. So I'm at work. Pissed. I sent The Capt. a nasty little text message. He didn't like it too much. He called me right away and I asked him why he didn't have a scraper in his car. His response to me was this

"Well, you took my scraper."

Are you fucking kidding me? He's super extra special lucky I wasn't within cutting distance of him because he was making me a little stabby. I might have cut him had he been near me. As an added bonus I have a Doctors appointment tonight that I have to get to and I'm not sure how I'll get there. I asked him if he was coming home tonight and he actually said to me "I have to train tonight. I have a life you know and I have stuff to do." Um, YOU BOUGHT THE HUNK OF SHIT TRUCK FUCKER.

So in review:

Why does Sweet Baby Jeebus hate me? WHY!!?!?!?!?!?!



Because I'm nice like that.....

There's this little old widow who lives across the street from me and was the very first person who made me welcome when I moved in to this area. She has 2 children, one of whom lives rather far away and the other is too wrapped up in his own life. So for Valentines day I thought it might be nice to leave a little gift on her porch. The question is do I get some flowers and leave them? Or make some muffins? She has been very sweet to me. Last winter I shoveled her driveway twice, it really was no big deal, I was already out doing mine. Her drive way is short but on a very nasty incline and I didn't want her trying to do it herself. A few weeks later I find a thank you card in my mail box with 2 gift cards worth $10 each ! So you can see she's a nice little old lady and I thought it'd be a nice thing to do. So idea's? Suggestions?



I always miss the best stuff!

My brain is trying to convince my liver to become a bar fly if for nothing more than the stories! And Weirdo's. And Homeless people which have recently settled at 'Our Bar'. Last night the Capt. stopped for a drink with Mr. Numb3rs and more insanity broke loose! The Capt ordered his drink and realized he'd left his cellular telephonic device in the vehicle of which me do not speak for fear of 'I told you so' flying out of my mouth. He starts out the door to his 'vehicle' and runs smack dab into a large mammal wearing a wife beater with his jacket jauntily draped across his shoulder and giving the crazy eye in negative OhMyGodItsSoFuckingCold degrees. Fast forward a little bit, he comes back into the Pub and Sir Crazy has apparently decided he should use the ladies room. As Mr. Numb3rs informs The Capt of this Sir crazy comes bursting out of the hallway Yelling at every on in the bar "FUCK WITH ME!!! COME ON FUCK WITH ME!!!" Repeatedly. A lot. In peoples faces. It's all The Capt and Mr. Numb3rs can do not to laugh in Sir Crazy's face and 'Poke the Tiger'. Sir crazy flys out the door once he realizes his request will not be fulfilled in this Pub.

I have 2 questions about this story.

1. What was this guy ON? Coke? PCP? Meth?

2. Why are there so many crazies out lately? I thought that happened in the summer! Is there something in the water we're not aware of? Government Testing???




Imagine The Savings!

Super Bowl Sunday I arrived home around 5:30, and after driving 6 hours cooking is not on my To Do list. We popped over to our local pub to grab a bite to eat praying it wasn't too crowded. Imagine our surprise to find our pub populated not by foot ball crazed fans but by freaks! We sat down at a table and surprise! We're sitting next to a David Bowie impersonator. A Gayer one if you can believe that! (Is that even possible?? Really??) As it turns out his Pee Wee's Play House Word of the Day was "Whhooooooooo!!!!!", and let me tell you! That man LOVED his word of the day. As we sat there giggling at our new "Whhooo" friend, Sgt. Touch-A-lot sauntered clumsily over to our table and starts rubbing my back.

"Wow!! WOW! YOU'RE ALL TIGHT!!! (Shakes me like he's mixing a drink.) WHATS WRONG WITH YOU??!?!?! (Shaking. Again.) HEY CAPT!!! I'M RUBBING YOUR WIFE'S BACK!!!! OK?? OK?? IS THAT ALRIGHT?? (By now I think I have whiplash.)ALL IN GOOD FUN RIGHT PAL???!?!?!?!!" *Smacks his large meaty hand on my back, shakes The Capt's hand, pulls into him and gives him a good squeeze for good measure and smacks The Capt's back too.*
Eventually, he ambles off to rub his personal bits on some other unfortunate woman.
But! Just like that damned cat, he came back. After about 7 more rum and cokes he didn't need. Sombitch didn't even wait until the very next day. Take a minute and replay that little back rubbing scenario over in you mind, only add a few repeated questions "HEY WHATS WRONG WITH YOU" and a few "IF I HURT YOU TELL ME"s in there. Then he moved on to the next victim at our table. The Sgt. must have shook hands with our good friend Mr. Numb3rs elleventy billion times and then proceded to tell him how Mr. Numb3r's car (350z) and truck (96 nissan truck) cost more than his truck even with all the nasty pimp my ride shit he's done to it. My response (because I'm an intrusive bitch) "Well, he doesn't have a wife. Or kids." To which our good friend Mr. Numb3rs pipes right up and says....
"Imagine the Savings!"
And at that Sgt. Touch-A-Lot finished accosting everyone else in the bar and ambled out to his truck and was gone into the night much to the patrons relief.
*sigh* Why can't I be in there when the fun stuff happens? Like Saturday night when the homeless guy tried to drink the Windex?


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