Have I mentioned that we bought a house?

what's up chicken butts? 

This shit is harder than I remember and I think that's pretty obvious based on what I resorted to for an opening sentence for my first post since March.  My apologies.  I haven't written much more than work related emails and drippy Facebook posts for several months.

I'll cut to the chase and dive right into a numbered list of things that are up my chicken butt:

1.  We bought a house. 

It's your standard Texas-style stone and brick, brown suburban house.  Some might call it cookie-cutter, and I might tell them to go fuck themselves because I've been living out of goddamn boxes for the past 3 years and that's a tiring way to live after awhile.

The house is entirely bigger than anything we'd ever need.  We feel a bit silly since it's just the two of us and a cat, but we chose this particular model with my mother in law in mind, because there are 2 master suites on the first floor, so she could come stay with us for extended visits and never have to climb any stairs.  I love my mother in law.

2.  The woman who sold us this house is a leathery piece of shit and I hope that I never have to communicate with her again after we close or as long as I live, whichever comes first.

She looks about 800 years old, smokes electric cigarettes in the model home where her office is, and seems to think nobody will notice the smell.  She has a tall, teased out Ladybird Johnson style hairdo and wears neon colored suits and turquoise jewelry.  These things are all fine.  In fact when I first met her I thought she was a hoot.  Get a load of this old broad!

You go 800 year old lady!  Go ahead and smoke your electric cigs in public.  Go ahead, be leathery and have cotton candy on your head and call it hair.  What do I care? 

Good for you for somehow figuring out how to embalm yourself while still alive by using a combination of Aquanet, nicotine and Hawaiian Tropic spf 8.  Way to go Leatherybird Johnson.

But don't lie to me through your dentures and get my hopes all up about what the builder can and can't do for us, you sack of shit.  And that is all I have to say about that.

3.  I'm still working from home and haven't lost my fucking mind completely. 

Not completely, although it is quite maddening from time to time. 

The longer I do it the more clear it has become that although the policies at my company are very open to work from home situations and remote employees like myself, the policies and technology used by the IT department (which is also my department btw) to support us... is ummm not designed to support us at all. 

My laptop died recently and it took 1 full week for them to figure out what to do about it.  I had to ship it to them.  Bullshit.  Then I had to wait another full week after I shipped it for them to ship it back to me.  Also bullshit.  They wouldn't ship it directly to my home, because the policy says it has to be shipped a corporate recognized branch office.  Bullshit.  Bullshit.  Bullshit.

So I ended up going half the month not being able to accomplish much of anything.  I could work remotely using (a remote system of logging in that rhymes with) Bitfrix from my home computer, but the connections are so slow and sketchy that the best outcome of this story is that I didn't slit my wrists when it took me an over hour and half to send out an email with an attachment. 

I didn't kill myself, but I cried a lot.  Like, a LOT.  As in, it's been several weeks and my face is still a bit blotchy.

It's also a bummer as a remote employee to constantly get sent group invitations to lunch meetings, potlucks and having to respond to meeting invitations by asking for a call-in number.

4.  Did I mention that we bought a house?  We finally bought a fucking house!!!  Motherfuckin' A, man!!  I don't have to feel terrible for hating my upstairs neighbors and their goddamn barking dogs and anvil footed children who seemingly do nothing but run back and forth across my ceiling all night and wake up screaming bloody murder every morning and carry on all day running around and screaming and tossing toys and shit off the balcony.  Oh dear Llyod in heaven how I loathe them.

5.  I'm stressed out because we bought a house.  We're moving again for the 6th time in 11 years.  We still have that horrid house in Michigan that is still under water.  We had a tenant, but had to evict him because he was regularly 4 months behind on the rent.  Now the property management company has told us that no one will lease it out because the kitchen needs remodeled.  So we're in the process of remodeling a kitchen long distance. IT'S ALL TOO MUCH TO TAKE!!!!!

6.  I'm a bit consumed with the new house.

Anyhoo... that's it.  This is all I can manage for now.

I'm out of practice wrapping up blog posts into tidy packages with bows and ribbons like I used to do.  Besides, where the fuck is my scotch tape?  I can't find anything around here so I sure as hell can't find any ribbon.  Get out out of here.  This post is over.

(I love you.)

Wears a Diaper/Eats Dryer Sheets

The title of this post is actually the description in our cable TV listing of one episode of a series I have never watched, and likely never will, called My Crazy Addiction or some such, but for some reason, when I came across the phrase it struck a chord.

Oh, don't you worry about me! Although I am still jobless, bored and lonely, and now have the added benefit of being in a strange city where I don't know anyone but my husband and my OBGYN (my new BFF), I'm not currently wearing a diaper or eating dryer sheets for jollies, but sometimes I feel I might snap and these are areas of madness I fear I might wander into. Probably not. I can't even watch a show about it, so I feel I'm pretty safe.

Anyhoo... I have some questions about this particular episode of the program. Mind you, I don't feel strongly enough about my questions to actually watch the program, so I decided to type it all out and throw it out into the ether and see how she flies.

First of all I have to make many assumptions by choosing to not actually watch the show, like for instance I assume that I'm deriving for more joy from the program by merely wondering what the fuck is up with these people than I would by actually watching the show and finding out for sure what the fuck is up with these people.

Conveniently, that point brings me to the next assumption, because when I say "these people", I am assuming the program is about two separate people, one a diaper wearer and one a dryer sheet eater. Also, grammatically speaking, the slash helps along that theory. Although I've been known to simultaneously abuse and neglect my comma privileges in my own writing I will assume if the show is about one person who has the duel misfortune of being both addicted to wearing diapers and snacking on Bounce there would be a comma and not a slash. I hope to high heaven it's not the same person.

I also assume, as mentioned above, that these people are getting some kind of jollies from respectively, hopefully separately, wearing diapers and eating dryer sheets. I mean, there wouldn't be much of show if the person wearing diapers had to wear them due to some physical problem involving incontinence, or being a toddler. That would just be cruel, so I assume they are choosing this... um... diaper wearing lifestyle.

Unlike wearing a diaper, in my mind it's a no brainer to assume that the person eating dryer sheets is doing so of their own free will, since unlike wearing a diaper there is not a physical, bodily reason a person would need to cram a dryer sheet into their pie hole (typically meant for PIE!) and chow down.

The next assumption is a little more serious. I'm going to assume that there is some portion of the population who does not appear on this program, who are suffering in silence with their own weird addiction. They are watching this show and thinking, "I am am not alone!", and subsequently finding some comfort in that, and maybe even as a direct result of this epiphany deciding to seek help.

My last assumption is tied pretty tightly to the previous assumption. Because I need to continue to believe in the greater good in humanity, I'm going to assume that at some point during the course of this program there is some kind of intervention involving psychiatric evaluations and therapy and that these poor people are setting on a course to getting some real help.

So those are my assumptions. Here are my questions:

1. Are the diapers disposable or cloth? I am a terrible person because I find myself secretly hoping they are disposable because although cloth diapers are environmentally friendly and all, disposable diapers make a little crunch-crunch noise and I find that hilarious.

2. Is the diaper wearer actually shitting him or her self? That sounds damn uncomfortable.

(Oopsie! I before I type the next question I have to add in the assumption that the diaper wearer is single! What better way to keep an intimate relationship at bay, right?)

2.a. If the diaper wearer is shitting him or her self, does that person have a roommate? If so, I would be far more interested in a show about the diaper wearers roommate*.

3. Are the dryer sheets scented or unscented? Unlike the diaper question I have no leanings for the answer one way or the other, but I do feel that chewing on an unscented dryer sheet would be my personal preference, as I perceive the scented ones probably just taste like soap.

4. Who is watching this show and do they come away from their viewing experience enlightened or ashamed?

*Even if the diaper wearer isn't shitting in the diaper it would still be interesting to get the roommates take on whether or not they know they live with a diaper wearer. Like my roommate is so weird, why does he/she always make a crunch-crunch noise when he/she walks or sits down? I assume if the diaper wearer is actually shitting in the diaper then the roommate most likely knows about the diapers.
Now, if the diaper wear is only pissing in the diaper, then that's a whole 'nother blog post for me and I'm done with this topic, so it'll be have to be left for the sages to ponder.