To-do List = Screw it

There is a lot of shit I need to do today. I thought it might help me be “organized” and “productive” by making a list.

  1. The hole in my wall that my dog made needs fixed. I’m wondering if I can avoid fixing it right by filling it with unpaid bills and peanut butter.
  2. I found out that those bumpy things that African Americans can do with their hair is called Buntu knots. I want those but as a person of non-color, it is doubtful I can grow AA hair. Wig? Are there wigs like that? Google that for at least four hours.
  3. My loosely defined flower beds need weeded and the bushes trimmed. I hate yard work and there is poison ivy in with the actual ivy. I’m thinking about pouring gasoline on the whole damn thing and starting a new trend called Scorched Earth Gardening. Better call Southern Living and Better Homes and Gardens to book a photo shoot.
  4. Need to put baseboards back on the walls in the basement where I remodeled. I don’t like math or saws and figuring out how to miter the corners. Nevermind… this one is off the list.
  5. My eyebrows need grooming. They are growing all over my face. I saw an infomercial this morning for a home laser system. This sounds both dangerous and interesting. I would use it on the dog first. Rottweilers have eyebrows that I can practice on, and I have two rotties so that is 57 eyebrows. I’ll reiterate, I hate math.
  6. Need to look into changing my name so I’ll know what to do after I rob a bank. I’m thinking of Hugh Jaynus. That name changes my gender too so no one will find me.
  7. I got an email yesterday that my kid had better get on the ball and buy her textbooks for college. The listed books are quite expensive and I’m wondering if my kid can just “share” with some other kid. My kid has an iPhone and she can just take pictures of the pages to read later. It’s more eco-friendly and all that tree hugger bullshit, right?
  8. Laundry needs done. Hubs is wearing my underwear today. I’m not wearing any. I don’t mind going commando but he says his suit pants chaff the free range parts. We can’t have that, now can we?

Hope your to-do list is shorter today. I’m off to look at the shit that needs done and then go to the movies. Hey, at least I thought about doing productive stuff today. It’s a start.


This is the hole my dog created by making the blinds swing into the wall because a vicious jogger was in the street outside.

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My planter with weeds and I think the other picture is marijuana in my flower bed. God, I hope so. I think I’ll leave it alone to see if there might be something to roll up and smoke later.


The next time you see a picture of this dog, he will look like he got drunk at a party and someone creative shaved his eyebrow. There might be burn marks too. Then again, he might eat the laser thing before I get into the room with it.

Cooking with My Eyes Closed

So by popular demand on my Facebook page(okay, so what if only two people wanted this topic; it’s my damn blog and I’ll write what moves me), I’m going to address a problem in my happy household.

My dear, sweet spousal unit likes breakfast. A lot. So much so that he thinks that waking me up at 6:30 am out of a sound sleep to cook him breakfast is acceptable. I beg to differ. I am a night owl. It is hard for me to fall asleep before midnight, even medicated with wonder drugs like Lunesta and Ambien. I need about nine hours of sleep. I know that may seem excessive but my sleep is what keeps my amazing sunny disposition in order.

Yesterday I had a really bad night and maybe went to sleep around 2 am. I was sound asleep dreaming of unicorns and fields of puppies, when I was rudely awakened by a kiss and a strange man helpfully informing me that it was the butt crack of dawn. Said man then danced into the bathroom to shower. I briefly entertained the thought of rolling over and playing dead. The only problem with that scenario was the whining about hubs being late that I would have to endure. With a groan and a deep lingering sigh, I stood up, scratched my ass and wandered into the kitchen.

The dogs looked up expectantly. I immediately squashed their hopes of steaks and hamburger for an early meal by throwing them outside. They must be psychic dogs and knew that that their asses would be up and out early, because SOME DOG had preemptively left me a nice “you’re welcome” pile of warm vomit right next to the door. Good morning to you too.

After cleaning up that mess I sauntered over to the fridge and took out the eggs. Did I wash my hands first? Maybe…. Anyway, I made him his breakfast and took it to him as he was getting out of the shower. I slammed the plate on the bathroom counter so that he could hear that his eggs were ready without me actually saying anything. He started thanking me, and trying to have a conversation as I was shuffling out of the room. I decided that a conversation at that moment was not in his best interest so I made that clear by shutting the bathroom door firmly, i.e. slamming it shut.

That evening, we did have a conversation about his unrealistic expectations of my domesticity. I made it clear that my needs are far more pressing than his. After I removed my hands from his throat it was clear that we had an agreement. I love this man when he sees things my way.