Zombie Arachnids

I think it's been well established that I do not like bugs.  Not at all.  Well, it's fall, and the eight legged creatures are making their way into the house.  I keep telling Jim that they are trying to kill me, because they always show up by MY chair, not his.  Freak me out, but fortunately, the man loves me and he gets up and takes care of them.  Sure, he's usually either laughing or rolling his eyes at me, but he takes care of them.

Today, I spent the afternoon cleaning out the garage, which entailed organizing stuff from boxes, consolidating, and throwing stuff away, then finding a place for it in the house.  At one point, I wandered by my chair, and bent over to pick up a thread that I saw on the ottoman.  Only, it wasn't a thread -- it was a big ass spider, crawling right toward my chair.  Fortunately, there was a slipper nearby, so I smashed the heck out of it.  Grabbed a Kleenex and sent that sucker to sea.

Or so I thought.

More specifically, I tossed it into the toilet with the kleenex and flushed.  Jim came home later, we chatted, and off I went to go potty.  And guess what?  That spider was still there in the pot.  Sure, it looked dead, but given the fact that it had last been seen crushed into a kleenex, how was it now here, sans tissue?  What. The. Heck.  So I did what someone would do when one wants a spider dead -- I peed on it.  And flushed.  Damn thing swirled around and DID NOT GO DOWN.  So I waited, then flushed again, holding the handle of the potty down for good measure.  STILL NOT GONE.

So, I spoke to my beloved, took him by the hand and explained what I have been trying to tell him for weeks now:  these spiders want to kill me, and some, if not all, are zombies.  Seriously.  How does a spider survive three flushes?  At which point, the man looked me in the eye and flushed.

That damn thing went down the drain like a five year old on a water slide.

Proving, once again, that if you want to deal with a zombie spider, send a Marine.

My 15 Minutes of Internet Fame

So, I had a yard sale back before Seth left for school.  I had agreed to let Jill have the proceeds for her wedding, but Seth is poor and he was here to run it, so they split it.  Little did I know what a pushover he is -- some people got some seriously crazy deals.  But oh well, they made upwards of $300 and I got rid of garbage, so it's all good.

So I put the ad on Craigslist, and I guess people liked it, because I'm still getting fan mail over it, and people telling me that a) they would like to be my friend and b) they laughed really hard when they read it.  It got put on Best of Craigslist, so the fan mail comes from all over now.  It cracks me up.

So here it is.  You decide.  I'll be unpacking boxes.

BROKE COLLEGE STUDENTS SELL THEIR MOM'S STUFF SALE FRIDAY 8.23.2013 (Eastside)

All three of my kids have moved out in the past three weeks. OK, so the third is leaving Saturday, but you get my drift. As a result, the nest is shrinking and I'm getting rid of everything that's not nailed down. Here's a sampling:

--a very ugly, but structurally sound, couch, circa 70s, as noted by the butt-ugly orange and brown colorway.
--a bunch of end tables and cocktail tables, in various shapes and sizes. At least one vintage-ish.
--some horse tack, like saddle blankets, lead ropes, and the like, previously used. By a horse.
--an extra large dog crate. Previously used. By a dog.
--Various book shelves that would be great for a dorm room. Nothing fance, in case of too much Nerf ball-dom.
--Some clothes, more shoes, but not too much, cause that is boring.
--Some vintage smalls, mainly china and a few pictures. One Victorian era picture that looks like Ellen Degeneres. I dare you to disagree.
--File cabinets. Hopefully they help you organize better than they did me. No guarantees.
--Sewing pattern cabinets, metal, (2) like you see at Joann's. They hold sewing patterns. Duh.
--A projection TV. Cheap. Used mostly to watch Criminal Minds.
--A dresser, bought last year, in great condition. It looks manly.
--A day bed. As opposed to a night bed.
--A super large cooler. Perfect for beer. If you see the college student with beer, let me know. He will be in trouble.
--Some Christmas stuff. Don't hate. It'll be here before you know it, trust me.
--A set of weights and two weight benches. Get your Arnold on. Just not in my garage. Wait till you get home.
--A covered patio swing. Perfect for relaxation and naps. The garage is a No Sleeping Zone.
--an old tool box with a bunch of tiny unknown stuff in it. No tools.
--a bunch of yard tools like rakes and shovels, etc. To look for buried treasure, or bury the body. Don't ask, don't tell
--a bunch of other stuff, some interesting, some boring.
--check out our jar of freebies. Just some stuff that you might like that I didn't feel like tagging. Cause free stuff is fun.
--a FREE upright piano. Heavier than hell. Bring a truck, and several good looking men.

Half of the proceeds will go to my youngest, for college expenses (not beer money) and half will go to my daughter for her wedding/grad school expenses (perhaps beer money). I will let them fight over what "half" is, cause she's in Florida, and he's hosting the show.

K.P. Duty

Living with a Marine is interesting.  The man is super organized.  Me, not so much.  And he likes things where he likes this.  Case in point, this morning:

Him (looking sternly at me):  "So, I guess you thought that your cereal bowl was just going to jump from the sink into the dishwasher, huh?  I mean, what the hell?"
Me (sitting in my chair reading):  ::points to cereal bowl sitting next to me::  "That's not MY bowl in the sink, Boo.  It's your bowl from your pie and ice cream last night."
Him:  (walks away laughing and shaking head)

I emerged triumphant, this one time.

Two Cars and Three Windshield Wipers

Once upon a time, there was a man.  He was a crazy young man, and he drove an MG Midget.  He loved that little Midget, though it had its share of challenges, mainly in the whole starting up and running arena.  And so it was that he moved on to a Mercury Cougar, and then a van, and then an SUV, and a little compact car alongside it.

Then he met a girl  -- his trophy wife, as he called her. This girl's only experience with MGs was when she took care of a 16 year old in the ICU who had run her MG under the Bingo bus, putting her into a coma, and settling several of her teeth into her lungs, a week after she got her braces off.  Needless to say, the girl didn't have great thoughts of MGs, and who would, when that's the only association they have with them?

Well, the boy decided that he wanted to buy the girl a car.  He convinced her of the wonderful freedoms of having an MG, so they went out looking.  They found an odd little car with three, yes THREE windshield wipers, that the car dealer wanted to say were original, but the man knew his MGs and knew something wasn't right.  As in, there was a Buick V6 under the hood.  And those three windshield wipers, on a windshield the size of a postage stamp.  And so they moved along.

But the man loved his girl, and he wanted her to have something special to cruise around in.  Say, something that the top came down on, and that went vroom, vroom when it rolled.  And so it was that they found this:

A modern day fraternal twin to the MG, with a top that comes down, a trunk the size of a postage stamp, and two windshield wipers.  And he bought it for her, and they lived happily ever after.

The End.