King Earl of the Moles

There are two things you need to know.

1. Iceburg Jones and I constantly take on the persona of Earl and Brandine, a couple who drives around town on rascals. We speak in country accents and new people at work often think those are actually our names.
2. I often call Iceburg Jones moley because when he first wakes up he is all squinty eyed and confused. He often comes to work in this state.

I got this text from Iceburg Jones last night when I got to work. I couldn't stop laughing.

Ohhhh fuck I am lost in a park right now. I'm moleying around the trails and I don't remember how to get back from where I came. Oh god. Where am I, Brandine? Come rascal me outta here my legs are tahrd! I think I'm going to just burrow a little mole hole and wait for help to arrive...and if help never comes, well, this is will be my life. I'll run with my mole brethren in tunnels underground, and they will crown me their king. King Earl of the Blendon Woods Mole Colony. Cower at our moley stance of confusion! Tremble at the sight of our squinty little eyes and our inability to find things in a kitchen. Perished will be all those foolish enough to cross us, for our claws are strong and our little gnawing teeth are kind of sharp. Probably. I, King Earl of the Moles, shall lead my brethren bravely with eyes half open to the underground world of victory! ......Seriously Erratic where the fuck am I? I am literally standing in a box of butterflies now...I have no better way of describing this. All I know is I did not walk through a box of butterflies on the way here...kind of neat though.

I always check my phone when I am peeing, so I was sitting on the toilet with a line outside the door laughing so hard I was choking. Tears running down my face, I walked out of the bathroom stall to a small group of people staring at me in complete awe and bewilderment. Which, of course, just made me laugh harder.

Lobster anyone?

I often say that I fail at being an adult. Mostly because I do. I make irresponsible decisions, mostly because they are more fun than the adult decisions.

Friday was one of those days. Iceburg Jones and I decided to sneak beer into my condo's pool and lay out. Now, this may not seem like THAT bad of a decision other than the fact that both of us have the subtlety of a Mack truck. We had can cozies, so you know, at least we thought that far in advance. And made a cooler out of an old make up bag that was insulated. We are the epitome of class, I tell you.

So, we laid out and secretly (note: not at all) drank beer and watched children play in the pool. Which was relaxing and fun. After a few hours, we decided to head home because I had to get ready to go see Harry Potter. 

I got out of the shower and looked in the mirror and gasped. Holy sunburn. Bright. Fucking. Red. It is bad. Then while waiting for the premiere, Iceburg Jones sends me a picture of him and the spray on sunblock he used of mine apparently wasn't applied evenly. If this blog wasn't semi-anonymous, I would share the picture because it made me laugh hysterically. I also got the following texts.

"I am a monster"

"My torso looks tie-dyed"

"I look like Freddy Kreuger's slightly less scary son."

After the movie, I stopped at the store to get aloe and when I stopped to ask a clerk, all I got was "where is the..." before she immediately guided me to aloe. I asked if it was that bad and her response? "Honey, you are glowing."

Son of a bitch.

Then I woke up today sick from the sunburn, which has never happened to me. Has this ever happened to any of you? I was super sick to my stomach, running a fever (I think...could have just been my skin), and slept almost the entire day. 

This time, I wish I had chosen to be an adult and cleaned or something. I'd say lesson learned, but let's be honest, I will probably make the stupid decision next time too.

I almost killed Harry Potter

Alternate Title: I am the dark lord.

Last night was the premiere of the final Harry Potter Movie. Which, in any other circumstance, I am all about. Last night was the first time I have ever doubted my loyalty. The first time that I have ever thought, you know, I want to kill Harry Potter. And get a snake.

I work at an outdoor mall that has a large movie theater. One of my coworkers was transferred to a different location and we went out for farewell drinks after work. We were all oblivious to the horror that awaited until we walked out of the bar and swarms of wizards were coming out of the theater. You guys, I have never seen anything like it in my life. Gryffindor scarves, robes, wands, and so many people we couldn't see. There were people fucking everywhere.

I get to the parking garage and it was just cars. Non moving cars. Hoards of wizards in non moving cars.

I was laughing. Oh, haha, this is so crazy. Giggle, giggle. Surely we will start moving soon.

We didn't.

I was texting Iceburg Jones who was having similar problems on the other side of the garage. Angry texting. Murderous texting.

Once I finally got my car out of the parking spot I was in, I immediately went into "I know this garage better than you do" mode and "I am going to kill all of you right now" mode.

I told a woman if she didn't fucking move, I would run her over. Told may be an understatement. I screamed it out the window. I almost rear ended Iceburg Jones after I almost ran that bitch over. I gripped my steering will so hard I think I almost broke it.

THEN. THEN. I had to pee. So I had to stop at the ghetto gas station by the airport to pee.

We left a little before 2 am. I got home at 3:10 am in a murderous rage.

I got on my laptop to, you know, calm down and read some blogs. Iceburg Jones sent me a gchat that just said THESE WERE YOUR PEOPLE. HOW COULD THESE BE YOUR PEOPLE? I laughed so hard I peed a little.

I am still going to see the movie tonight, despite the fact that last night I really thought I was going to run over every costumed ass hole in that parking garage. 

Lesson learned, I suppose.

Updates

A few random things. Krackle sent me a gchat that just said "update your blog" so I guess that I need to update my blog. You guys are so needy. Jeez.

NCH is doing great, fine, super, still trying to kill me. I accidentally locked him in the guest room yesterday when I went to work, even though I find this to be impossible, somehow I did it. So, when I got home yesterday, he was batting my hand away every time I tried to pet him. He was doing the same to the boy. So, suffice to say, he is back to normal. Pissed and evil. Here is a picture of his belly after the surgery.

It looks like the surgery was done with a chainsaw because he has so much fat on his belly. He kind of has a fat butt on his belly now. It makes me laugh.

Short Dog also got his teeth cleaned and the vet said they were on side by side tables, which for some reason, made me happy. Even though they kind of hate each other. 

I graduate in less than two weeks, which is equal parts exciting and nerve wracking. There are a lot of preparations to do and a part of me is kind of regretting having a party and making a big deal out of it. It is an associates degree in culinary arts, it's not like I am becoming a doctor. And I am almost 30 years old. I feel a bit ridiculous making such a big deal out of it, but it is too late now. So, I guess own it and drink up, right? Plus, my cousin is bringing her twins, so that alone makes it worth it. BABIES!

I will end on a final story, which is quite hilarious. I went to this gay bar on campus with Iceburg Jones. He had been trying to get me to go there for ages and I finally relented. They are in the process of redoing their patio and covered the entire thing in astro turf. Yes, I would think this would be the last decision a bunch of gay men would make, but who am I to judge. Well, the astro turf covered little tiny steps all over the place. I am sure you can see where this is going. So, I take my first beer out to the patio so that Iceburg Jones can smoke and tripped over the tiny one inch step. I rammed my shoulder into a guy's chair, flung beer all over myself, and completely skinned my knee. By the next day, my shoulder was covered in a giant bruise, my knee looked like someone had put a baseball under my skin, and every inch of my body hurt. Oh, and I was the laughing stock of the entire bar.

In case you guys didn't know, awkward is my special talent. 

There is no way this day was real.

Sometimes you have bad days. Sometimes you have good days. Sometimes you have days that seem like they lasted for 18 hours and it isn't even dinner time yet. Today was one of those days.

Woke up to NCH peeing on the bed at 6 am. (we have had some stress related problems with him since we lost Kobers) There was blood in it. Fuck.

Stripped the bed and went downstairs to the basement, which led to a long, serious conversation with the boy that should never be had at 6 am.

Attempted to go back to sleep. Failed.

Called the vet, made an appointment for 10 am.

Attempted to go back to sleep. Failed.

Took Neil to the vet where I waited for AN HOUR before they would see me. The only option was sedating him and getting tests done. To the tune of $360. Fuck. While waiting, had to reschedule 2 job interviews. Guess who is not getting hired? Crazy cat girl.

Went to the only remaining job interview. Have a preview shift during Saturday night dinner rush. Fuck. That is just cruel and unusual, people. Cruel and unusual.

Got asked during my interview if I had a problem with the typical vulgarity in kitchens, because I am a woman and all. I almost directed him to my blog.

Met Iceburg Jones for lunch, wherein I had to tell him that we can't take on a roommate right now. Felt horrible, but he made me laugh, which made me feel better. Also, he might have still been asleep. And should change his name to Mark.

Came home and FINALLY took a nap. Woke up to the vet calling. Neil was awake and there was blood in his urine. Thank God for your veterinary medicine degree. I HAD NO IDEA. The tests revealed nothing else. Shoot me in my broke ass face.

$100 in antibiotics and more kitty Xanax (yes, this is round 2 of anti anxiety medication FOR MY CAT) and prescription diet to help his urinary tract issues. Which they found no sign of, but are just guessing that is the case. You know, because of their dynamite urine in the blood diagnosis. 

They bring him out in his cat carrier and he is FLIPPING out. I open the carrier and he buries himself in my lap. And pees. All over me. In the lobby of the vet office. While I wait for his prescriptions. FOR TWENTY MINUTES.

We drive home, Neil clinging to me the whole way. I attempt to give him a bath, which ends in him leaping over the counter, spraying pee and water all over the kitchen. I strip off all my clothes and take a shower, resolving myself to a house covered in cat pee.

I contemplate curling up in the fetal position until the boy gets home.

I give Neil his antibiotic, getting bit in the process, and his kitty Xanax. 

I open a beer and think, WHY THE FUCK DO PEOPLE GET UP THIS EARLY. IT IS SIX MORE HOURS OF SHIT GOING TERRIBLY, TERRIBLY WRONG. I AM NEVER GETTING UP BEFORE NOON AGAIN.

Do you think that kitty Xanax would work on humans?