Sunday, April 20, 2008

How a perfectly good Saturday goes bad...

So, I get up yesterday morning in a totally shitty mood. There's a reason for it, but I choose not to go there. Suffice it to say that SOMEONE chose Friday night as their "Night to be NOT NICE."

I had a very good conversation with Dory, who, by the way, totally answered questions that I posed to her a MILLION years ago, and I did not link to them. Because I am a lazy bitch, I think. Or maybe I forgot. Or a combination of the two, probably. Anyway, the conversation with Dory helped rise me up out of the muck a bit.

A hilarious email from my friend Mark Willie helped some more.

And a conversation with someone else made me decide to MAKE MY SATURDAY COUNT. I was bound and determined to make yesterday ALL ABOUT MISS ANNE. In fact, I declared yesterday ALL ABOUT MISS ANNE DAY. And thusly, I spoke it into existence.

I got a shower and headed out. Note that the sun was shining when I made my declaration, and it was RAINING when I headed out. But I was not to be deterred.

I headed to Starbucks for a triple vanilla latte-add whip, which is indeed the nectar of the Gods. I remarked that it was nearly a sexual thing.... Add in a cigarette and it was orgasmic... I'm gonna need a moment to revel in the afterglow.... AHHHHHHHH....

So, um.. ok, after the coffee and cigarette, I drove around aimlessly for a while, listening to Daughtry with the windows down. And yes, I did sing. At the top of my lungs. I sang "Over You" something like 27 times. Or maybe more. I kept backing up through parts of it. That song is a very good song. I'm just sayin'.

Then I went to my office and worked hard for 3 hours. I am awesome. It's official. It's been announced somewhere, I'm sure...

Husband showed up at my office to search hi and low for "The Man Who Drives a Red Truck and Parks Beside Me". I had to shorten his name from "The Man Who Drives a Red Truck and Parks Beside Me and Walk With a Cane, and I Don't Know Where the Fuck He Works, Thank You Very Much, Because I Don't Know Him, Get It?" Because that was just a mouthful, let me tell you. After not finding any strange men, and noting the rising pile of work I had completed, and thus figuring that THERE WAS NOTHING TO SEE HERE, husband left, and I continued working, unimpeded.

Had another great conversation, via text, with someone who declared me "totally kissable" and really, who can argue with that? Ahem.. What I meant to say is, "And really, who wouldn't like to hear that?" What a great Saturday.

Then I remembered.... Holy shit, today is Satan's Birthday. Satan is a loving pet name I gave my husband 24 years ago. I believe it was on our wedding night. But memory is a foggy thing with me. It could have been the next day. Or the day I met him....

I hurried home and offered him the only present I could afford... *Note to self: Next year? Save money for a STORE BOUGHT present.

I prepared a veritable cornucopia of fried items, a meal truly fit for the King of the Netherworld. And there was Cheesecake! Oh thank you for creating Cheesecake, Dear Lord Jesus God.

As befits a man of his status, Husband stood in the kitchen, naked as a jaybird, and ate his dinner. That's right. STANDING UP. Most of him, anyway. Then, he spotted a moth, and went on the HUNT. That is when THIS conversation took place:

Me: What the hell are you doing?
Husband: I gotta kill this moth.
Me: Why are you dragging that chair over to the fridge... OH MY FREAKING GOD, you are gonna show your little tiny peepee to all our neighbors?
Husband: Stop doing that.
Me: Stop doing what?
Husband: Saying "Little Tiny PeePee."
Me: "stares pointedly at little tiny peepee"
Husband: Shut up.
Me: I just call 'em like I see 'em.

As I munched delightedly on CHEESECAKE!! straight from the package, with a fork, we had this delightful interchange:

Husband: Stop doing that.
Me: Do you realize that most of our conversations begin with your telling me to stop doing something?
Husband: Stop eating all the strawberries.
Me: Do you not see this GARGANTUAN pile of strawberries? I am not eating them. I am moving them to the side.
Husband: Why?
Me: So I have greater access to the CHEESECAKE!!
Husband: Well, stop doing that! It's a strawberry cheesecake! You're supposed to eat the strawberries too!
Me: "blink"
Husband: WHAT?!?!?!
Me: Dude, you just told me NOT to eat the strawberries. Then you said, EAT THE STRAWBERRIES. I'm confused, a little. Do I eat a strawberry? Do I not? I am frozen in INDECISION.
Husband: You're a smartass, you know that?
Me: I'm just wishing your peepee were on top of this CHEESECAKE!! Then I could move it aside to get at the CHEESECAKE!!
Husband: You're an asshole.
Me: That is entirely possible.

Later, I tucked him in bed, and got on the computer. Because Rhapsody was calling my name. And more specifically, Creedence Clearwater was calling my name....

As I twirled and stomped and danced and swayed and SANG!! my way through Midnight Special, Lookin' Out My Backdoor, Proud Mary, and Midnight Special THREE more times, I wished desperately for some booze. I rummaged around in the fridge, found a Smirnoff Ice, and some old WINE, and some BUDWEISER, and had myself a guzzle or two...

And it's not a good thing when I drink anything. ANYTHING at all....

This morning, I discovered an embarassing exchange of text messages on my cell phone. And I deleted them before I fully realized the comic treasure that I held in my hands. I might have declared myself PLOPPED. I might have noted that I FUCKED SATAN. I might possibly have even told that someone to stop INTRUSTING me....

Holy mother of God, I am an IDIOT. Dear Person Who Got Those Text Messages: It isn't my fault I'm stoo-pid. I'm just drawn that way....................


THopgood said...

Thank you so much for laugh!!!

...."little tiny peepee".....


damon said...

Makes me wonder, Besides eating strawberries and cheesecake on satans birthday, (which I'm pretty sure is only legal in West Virginia),What else do you guys do naked?

Burfica said...

now how can a saturday go bad if there is cheesecake involved. And booze for shit sake that's almost perfect.

the planet of janet said...

be afraid. be VERY afraid!

Anonymous said...


Tell me MORE stories because you're like, the bestest storyteller EVah.

And then console me because I never thought the first TROLL on my blog would be a member of the FAMILY.


Bina said...

Ha Ha Ha! "Little Tiny Pee Pee". Now that is a good one!

Hmmm. Yea, texting can be dangerous under the influence. I try to avoid that, and blogging, any time I've had too much to drink!

baseballmom said...

That musta been his dream birthday...being able to eat naked in the kitchen, now that's definitely a MAN thang.