15 posts tagged “story”
Apparently some people need friends more than others and yet, some are the exact opposite. So do not go onto a personals site, message someone looking for friends only and then get upset when that person gets upset because you want to spout off erotica instead of, uh, I don't know, being a friend.
That'll teach me.
And no, I was not the one spouting off erotica.
Neither was he, but he wanted to.
I wanted to talk about movies and puppy dogs.
Who was teh fail?
We are in the process of moving. We started slow and are building up to a crescendo that I fear is going to leave me breathless and surrounded by a ton of boxes. As it stands, enough has been moved for us to start living in the new house. It's an old Victorian with plenty of nooks and crannies to fill with my furniture and crew. Already, the dog has chosen her room and so have the cats. They are adjusting amazingly fast to the space. The puma spent his first hour out of the cat room going from room to room and finding the exact middle of the floor to flop over and stretch out as long as he could stretch. Finding no obstructions or objections, he would quickly get up and move to the next room to repeat the process. It was amusing to watch. The little ones took a little longer, hiding on the stairs at first and running along with me until they felt comfortable enough to explore on their own. Hobbit quickly found the coat closet and has dubbed that "Hobbit's Crook". The shoes don't mind too much. Harvey is... Harvey.
Last night was our fourth night camping out in the new living room. We were settling down and getting sleepy when we saw headlights reflected on our wall. Not a big surprise as one of the first things I noticed is that our driveway seems to be a magnet for turnarounds on our street (no more cul-de-sac for us, I'm afraid!) and use as our neighbor's parking guide. Not a huge problem in the scheme of life in a new house. Could be worse, right? Uhm... a few minute's later we hear talking and shouting from the front of the house. Frank looks out the window and there is a van parked in our driveway, with it's owner having an animated conversation with someone(s) out in the street. The woman by the van asks for Frank's help in moving the van out of our driveway as she "has no reverse". Frank puts on his shoes and a coat but by the time he gets out there, (and I look out the door) the cops have arrived. Grabbing my coat and slippers, I join Frank on the porch as we are entertained by the cops dealing with the woman and the men who were following her. Apparently she knew a criminal element we'll just refer to as D-man and the cops suspected her of being in cahoots with him. The cops didn't believe her when she said she was being stalked by the men in the other car and she didn't know where D-man was. They let the other car go and proceeded to confiscate the alcohol in her van and administer a sobriety test. She passed with flying colors and because they knew her, despite having no license, she was let go. One of the cops and Frank pushed her out of our driveway. As Frank and I start to head back in, one of the cops calls out from their patrol car, "Welcome to the neighborhood" and laughs a bit maniacally. I don't think he meant to laugh like that, but it can't be a good sign. As we go to shut our front door, we notice that the other car had circled back and the cops pulled it over again (the woman in the van was still sitting down our street). At that point it had ceased to be funny and we were just tired. We went inside, shut the door and tried to relax once again.
I don't know yet if I'd prefer our old crazy over this new oddity. Dealing with "an outside cat" and the occasional firecracker is not that bad compared to what we witnessed last night. On the other hand, that crazy was a daily/weekly occurrence. If this new crazy only rears it's head once in a while, I can deal with it.
Okay, so I went camping and came home today (Frank, in a brilliant show of love, brought our puma along for the ride (he had to pick me up from mom's) and when I finally walked through my own front door, I was covered in cat pee and cat vomit - YAY) in a mix of feelings. Exhaustion, disgust, love, happiness, irritation... you get the idea.
Anyways, the point is, Sunny came over because she had also been on a road trip and she missed us. Well, we missed her too... I didn't mean to imply that we didn't. Seriously!!!!
I think I lost my point again. Let me go sharpen my wit.
We're all sitting here Stumbling, playing games, trying to find a new puppy (we just recently had to give our dog to his old owners - it was hard but best for all), watching tv and generally doing what we usually do on any given day. Three computers, one wall of tv, three cats running around, and three humans chittering away all added up to a lot of noise.
We almost missed it.
A new commercial pops up on tv and no one was quick enough with the remote, fortunately. It's some dentistry commercial (toothpaste, mouthwash, whatever) and all of a sudden we hear "your teeth are alive". Everything comes to a screeching halt. Puppies and Stumbles are forgotten. Computer games end in death. At the same time, all three of us burst out laughing and start ripping out quips.
The best one: "They're biting me!"
Seriously, think about that the next time you chomp down on that piece of steak. Your teeth just may be vegan.
THE MORE YOU KNOW!!!
Last weekend Frank and I headed up to the great wilderness of upper lower Michigan to join a part of my family on their property. Fun was had by all - on the drive up, during our stay and on the way down. We took the temporary truck (don't ask...) and it's a 81 Chevy LUV diesel. It goes at a top speed of 70. If you're going downhill. Down a steep hill.*
Anyways, we left Friday afternoon and snail trailed our way up to Hawks. Getting "lost" thanks to faulty directions (there IS no F109 (road signs), just to let you know) but thanks to kindhearted locals, found our way into the wilderness. I got ice cream.
We arrived before anyone else, so we broke out our hammocks and built a fire. I promptly fell asleep only to awaken to find my sister leaning over me, staring at me. It's not a thing you want to wake up to from a deep sleep (I was really really tired after driving almost the entire way and getting a good sunburn to boot) and it didn't help that it was combined with my mother peering over HER shoulder. It took me a while to calm down my heartbeat.
The next day, instead of relaxing, we headed out to some art fair/carnival monstrosity in a nearby town. I say monstrosity, but in all fairness (ha, get it? it's a pun!! okay, I'm lame.) it was pretty cool. Better than the local horror of an art fair - pretty much because this had some fun rides. We strolled around the art fair part, losing bits and pieces of the family as we walked but rejoining in the breaks. Most of the time was spent riding the rides.
I had a blast. Screaming on The Loop. Laughing as my family made crude jokes on the Merry-Go-Round. Freaking out on the Tilt-O-Whirl because the certain car my mom and I occupied seemed to be possessed and was whirling with the intensity of a thousand jet rockets. Even her stomach flipped on that one. Possessed I tell you.
The best part of the day though (at least, in the fair hours) was on the Ferris Wheel when I was paired with my ex-step-father (again, if you have to ask, don't). There's been a few issues there and it was really nice to "reconnect" over good memories of the past. If nothing else, the trip was worth that.
But then we all went back to the property and built a huge frakkin' bonfire (in one of those portable firepit/grill things - I never knew they could handle a fire like that - I saw blue flames). Frank was his normal charming self during dinner and had the table in stitches over the word "fuck". We topped off the night by toasting s'mores in the dwindling fire and watching the stars pop out in the sky. We pointed out satellites to each other, commented on the wild ducks in the area (and the fowl stench), argued over who saw the Milky Way first and where (I won) and even saw a few shooting stars. It was a truly amazing night.
We found out the windshield wipers didn't work. Thankfully before we hit the road on Sunday and were able to fix them, at least to the point of some usability. And drove home in the misty rain. Yay home.
OH! I almost forgot the absolute best part of the entire trip. Our truck, we admit, looked a bit like Jeepers Creepers truck (there's a meat hook on the back end...) but it was nothing compared to what we ran across when we got off the main highway. We're driving along, minding our business when a sign catches our eye. Mind you, we saw all of this in the space of only a few seconds. The sign said "The Adult Store" but the building was an old gas station. The building had a shack to one side with the real Jeepers Creepers truck half in and half out of the shack, with a blue tarp hiding part of it as well. It was very disturbing and a bit funny at the same time.
It feels good to be home.
*we think. the speedometer is "broken" because of tires that are a couple of sizes too large for the vehicle. The speedometer topped off at a paltry 57 - but we were passing a few vehicles. Maybe three. And they passed us the next time we went up a hill.
Been there. Done that.
So why was it today that I was shocked, almost beyond words, when the following happened?
Sunny and I went to BR for sundaes (it's Tuesday, dontcha know?) today and as we're walking out, starting to stuff our faces with chocolate, ice cream, peanut butter and whipped cream... I find that my ice cream is not the vanilla Oreo ice cream that I was expecting, but a horrid jamoca Oreo flavor. We went back in and I explained very politely to the girl (same girl who had served us) behind the counter that I had not realized the flavor of the ice cream would be coffee and I don't like coffee. Could I please have the normal Oreo flavor, please and thank you?? She makes up a new sundae neat and tidy and proceeds to set it on the counter. Then she looks at me and says, "That'll be $5.71"
I'm sure the look on my face was priceless.
"No."
After this reaction (from both Sunny and I), the poor girl looks like a deer caught in the headlights of a sadistic hunter. She explains to me (still looking like a barn owl) that the contents of the sundae are listed on the board behind her.
Unfortunately for her, the only place it's listed is on the poster behind her head, in a font that a sharpshooter couldn't read from the counter and in a space about the size of a business card. Sunny points this out to her.
She then looks to her coworker for help in dealing with the disturbed customers and proceeds to tell him that I'm refusing to pay for the sundae.
He then proceeds to look at her in a very "OMG WTF you NOOB" and tells her that of course we don't have to pay.
DUH.
Anyways... that was the amusement of the day.
As Sunny would say, "Ready GO!"
Our nob-lickers, I mean neighbors, are in rare form today.
Frank goes out to bring in the garbage can and runs into our landlord. She proceeds to tell him the following story, which just happened.
She's getting rid of some old things and there have been people coming and going pretty much all afternoon. Her sister came over to help her and parked down the street, in front of a neighbor's house. Let's call him Hick. She gets out and starts to walk down the street when the hick comes home. He asks how long is she going to be parking there. She explains that as soon as a person comes to pick up some items, she'll move her car. He then sneers, "Why don't you move it now?" Mind you there is plenty of room behind his wife's van to pull his truck into the driveway and even more room on the other side of his driveway and down the street. Okay, so why doesn't she park there? That spot was the closest to our landlord's house and she (as well as her sister) are on the older side of life. Much older. And Hick is all of forty, maybe.
This is also the same family that allows their kid to yell out things like "stupid noblicker idiot" to the other neighbor's son (who retorts back in the same, if not worse, language) and no one stops them. The kids have also climbed the tree in our front yard until our landlord put netting around it. Now they reach through and throw the mulch at each other. The boy also drives his little moterbike through everyone's yard, dry or wet. And nothing is said or done.
Sometimes people amaze me with the level of entitlements they think they deserve.
When I got him as a kitten, I repeated the mantra "he's just a kitten, I do love him" more times than I care to admit. Now, more than two years later, I find myself in a somewhat similar state of mind. He is no longer a kitten, or anything that resembles a cute fist sized ball of fluff. He's still as fuzzy and fluffy - just 18 pounds instead of 3. But I think he still thinks he is a kitten.
Today, per norm, all three cats were ripping around the duplex chasing each other up and around, over and under. Nothing really new or exciting, but usually entertaining. I'm sitting in the middle of the couch, playing a computer game, when all 18 pounds of furball come flying up over the laptop arm (attached to the back of the couch) and... well, at least he tried... onto the windowsill.
Unfortunately the windowsill is about three inches deep (I've heard him hit his head before many times when he tries to jump onto it) which is about as deep as his front paws. Don't believe me? I'll try to find the picture of one kitten paw taking up the entire top of a pop can. Also unfortunately, for me, the cushion at the back of me had been sliding down. This made the large tube behind my head (part of the cathouse we moved - long story) unstable.
He hits the window with his head and grabs for purchase on the cat tube.
With his back claws.
Slips.
I've now got two stitches on my neck and a multitude of bandages down the left side of my back.
I also found out what makes Frank faint. The guy who can step on a nail, pull it out and go back to work like nothing is amiss. The guy who says nonchalantly "I think I broke my thumb again" as he comes home from work. The guy who is brought to his knees and to the point of fainting seeing me in pain.
And what is the monster behind the whole ordeal doing? Sleeping on top of the sheepskin as if it's just like any other day.
I love him. I really, really do.
I hate doing my taxes. I always have. Perhaps it's really the hatred of math behind my hatred of taxes. I'm inclined to say that that must be it, since I always get money back from our government. Yep. Every year. It's always them paying me back. And I always procrastinate until it's April and quickly nearing the 15th. Even when I decided that I don't mind paying someone else to do it for me (<sarcasm> because it's sooo damn hard</sarcasm>) I still wait until it's near d-day to make an appointment. I get all excited too... for about fifteen seconds. Then I realize that hey - it was my money in the first place. It's not free money. It's not a bonus. It's not the government saying "we love you!"
Nope. My money.
So... April 13th hits this year and the appointment comes and goes. I get a sizable (for me - remember, I'm not working now) amount of money and I get all excited. And the excitement stays this time, because even though I know it was my money... I get to spend it on stuff I've been wanting for a while. Like hoops and studs for my ears. It's expensive when you have ten extra holes in your head... :)
Anyways... so the whole point of this tirade is this:
Yesterday I got an email saying that my check has arrived and I can pick it up at my local branch. Lovely, I think! I begin to do my little "I've got money" dance. BUT. The email arrived at 4 and I didn't read it until a little later. Even if we had run out at that moment, it still would have been too late to put it in the bank. So we decide we'll handle it all today.
This morning I call the branch I was told to call from my tax preparer and get a tone in my ear that is akin to a fax machine tone, but it's not. I can't figure what the heck it is. Okay... so I call the main branch... and it just rings. And rings. And rings. Until finally it switches over to a guy's voice mail and guess what? His voicemail is full. Fine. We have errands to run anyways so we decide to just stop by as we're out. We get to the main office and no one is sitting in the front area at all. Receptionist desk is empty and so are the front offices. We ring the little bell and start calling out "Marco!!" for the funny. This guy comes to the front from the back area and I swear... if his nose was any higher in the air, he would have exploded from the lack of air pressure. I'm not kidding. I know I have blue/green spiky hair and am dressed in jeans on a FRIDAY but the attitude radiating off this guy was just nasty. I get a little flustered and stammer out that I'm trying to get my refund check. He proceeds to tell me that their offices don't handle that and we'd have to go to the other office across town. Fine, I expected that. He then gives me the number to it, but it's the same number I was getting the weird tone when I called. Fine. We drive over there and find out they are only open two days a week. Ugh. We go to the next office since it's only down the street and they are only open two days a week too! But different days. Guess what? Friday is not on the sign on either of them.
At this point I have to say that I'm really glad I'm not working this year (well... so far, and with no plans on that changing) so that I don't have to do taxes next year. I know that even if I did have to do taxes next year, I'll slog through it myself before going back to these offices.
It's no wonder that the office I actually got my taxes done (a block from my house) is closed after April 17th even though it's a "permanent" office. They sure as hell don't need to be there for any customer service.
Whose offices?
H&R Block.
Believe me, on Monday or Tuesday (depending on which office really has my check) as soon as the money is in my hands, more than a few people are going to know I'm extremely displeased by this experience.
It becomes a thing of legend. If we hadn't both seen it at different times, we would have thought that it was only in our minds. The thing is... we only saw it once or twice and we began to worry that it was only in our heads.
Less than a minute search on YouTube (a beautiful thing in it's own right) and we're not crazy at all:
What's one family recipe that you wish you knew how to cook?
My grandmother's sugar cookies. I've been trying to get the recipe from my aunt since she got it from her mom... and this has been going on for years. Each time I ask I'm told, "You know, it's a really hard recipe... it took me this long to get it right... but I'll send it to you." And each year all I get is a bag of cookies (roughly a dozen and they last about a day around me) but still no recipe. And it's usually only around Christmas time they get made by my aunt while my grandmother would have them on hand every time I came to visit (she knew how much I loved them). Now, granted, I only visited my grandparents (on average) 3-4 times a year and I know I shouldn't expect that of my aunt whom I visit (again on average) at least double that amount... but is a recipe really that hard to give out? Maybe she wants the glory to herself... taking that long to get the recipe right... but all I have is time on my hands and I'll still go ape when she makes them. These cookies are that good. They're Monkey crack.
Plus... it's really about the memories. I can't even smell these things without thinking of mornings visiting at my grandparent's house. The immediate memory of breakfast. Shredded wheat, coffee and juice for my grandfather, while my grandmother would have only coffee and either donut holes or sugar cookies to dunk in it. The memory of how when I found out where the cookies were kept, the goal of every visit would be to sneak out as many as I could without getting caught. I can still smell the smoke from his pipe and the harsh tone of her voice as she would yell at me to get away from the furnace. The figurines I couldn't touch and the chair I couldn't sit in (well... couldn't sit in without spinning, which was forbidden). Playing Chinese Checkers with whoever would play with me and by myself if no one had the time or energy. Walking down to the general store by myself to get a piece or two of candy. The trees. The deer. The caterpillars and butterflies. The chipmunks. The spiders. The bathroom. The ants. The trees.
I'm going to get that recipe this year if it takes a pair of pliers and some stealth.
