Author: Mrs. Completely

Hope

Things I Hope For:

  • I hope the guy who lives on the corner suffers from a mass infestation of fleas in his crotch area. Why? Because he’s an ass and when the city gave us a permit to operate our small engine repair business he started driving past our garage twice daily looking for any excuse to call the By-Law Office. Actually, cancel the fleas. May he suffer from chronic plugged sinuses and Psoriasis.
  • I hope the lovely old Lady who lives beside the above mentioned ass lives another 10 years. Because she’s sweet and kind and everyone that is sweet and kind should live longer than people like the guy mentioned above.

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Izzie – I’VE BEEN VIOLATED!!

I may have over-reacted about how horrible this place is. In my defense, these humans had just ripped me from my mother’s warm nipple!  I also really missed my brother.  And then, just when I was starting to relax, THEY  ATTACKED ME!  VIOLATED ME!  They wrapped me in a piece of cloth so I couldn’t lacerate them for their effrontery then cut the tips off my claws!  How am I supposed to hang off their pants without pointy claws?!  Oh sure, they apologized and told me how good I was and offered treats but that doesn’t excuse their actions.  Afterward, I sat on the floor in front of the female, giving her the stink eye while I licked my offended feet….very slowly…..and deliberately.

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Izzie – The Sound of My Fury

There is a new addition to the family.  She doesn’t have a name yet, but she certainly has a voice.  A very loud and piercing voice that drills into our ears and eats our brains. 

I’ll let her express her joy at joining the family:

Help!! Assholes have abducted me!  One minute I’m in the house I was born in, then I’m wrapped in a blanket that I’m sure was laced with Kitty Cocaine, and now I’m in HELL!

WHERE IS MY BROTHER?! WHERE IS MY MOTHER?!  What have you done with them, Hell Spawn?  I don’t care that those treats are delicious, I want to go home.  Now!

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Risk Assessments

The risks of getting out of bed:
  • Falling and breaking my hip
  • Having cold feet because I can’t find my slippers
  • Someone may actually want me to do something before I have my second cup of coffee
  • Running out of coffee before I get my second cup
  • Being forced to put on a bra and get dressed before noon
The risks of stopping to talk to my neighbour:
  • He will tell me all about his sex life
  • He will rub my arm…..again…..with his sweaty hand
  • His wife will come out to chat
  • I’ll have to pretend interest in their medical problems

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How to Annoy a Viking

Have you ever got up in the morning feeling bored and listless and by noon you are so bored and listless that you can’t even tolerate yourself? And then you start looking around for something to end your boredom and the only thing you see is a Viking?  Well, that’s me today.

So I’m wondering what I can do with The Viking that would break the monotony of my current existence. Of course the obvious answer is sex.  Having sex with a Viking is awesome but I’m not really in the mood because I’m bored and listless.  If only he would entertain me.  Maybe I should just ask him.  Maybe he would be more than happy to entertain me instead of working in the garage.

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Call The Paramedics!!

I cut off my left hand. Making Caesar Salad.  I thought, “If The Viking doesn’t come in the house soon I may not make it”.  I try to remember what I’m supposed to do in this situation.  Do I elevate the arm?  Tie a tourniquet?  Both?  Should I put my severed hand in the fridge?

I decided on the ‘laying on the floor and raising my arm toward the ceiling option’. I should have wrapped something around the stump; liquid is susceptible to gravity.  Laying there, waiting for The Viking and reflecting on my injury, I wondered if I should be trusted with sharp and pointy objects any more.  I did stab myself just last week after all.

I hear The Viking slam the garage door, which means he’s heading for the house. I yell, “SCULLERY MAID DOWN!!”

The door opens. “Did you say something?” he asks mildly.

Me:  Call the Paramedics!!

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That Had Better Be a Banana in Your Pocket!

I had to buy groceries today. And in an effort to get myself a little more organized so I don’t waste most of my time every damned day, I got my shit together and ended up at the store earlier than I usually do.  And, well……there were issues.

There was a surprisingly large percentage of older men there today. Guys like my father, who lived during the great years when the wife could stay at home and raise the kids and the men came home to a hot meal without knowing for certain how that magic happened.  And there were Laundry Fairies and Leprechauns that dusted and cleaned and vacuumed in that world where he slept each night.

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Disaster!

A terrible disaster happened in my purse. It was ghastly!  A pen that I have had for 5 years exploded its guts all over the inside pocket. That’s gratitude for you!  I loved that pen. I took it with me everywhere, drew lovely doodles with it, and showed it to my friends as the best pen in the whole world!

Maybe it was holding a grudge over that time I accidentally left it in the car overnight when it was -25 degrees, but that was 3 years ago and I hardly think that was a good excuse to commit pen suicide.  I apologized after all, and everything seemed okay.  It’s not like it left blotches or didn’t lay down an even trail of ink to indicate that there might be a crisis brewing.

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Procrastination is Completely Reasonable

I knew from a very early age that I was a procrastinator. I knew this because my mother said, “You’re a procrastinator.”  My eyes probably started darting around the room at that moment, hoping to get a hint from somewhere what the hell a ‘Procrastinator’ was.  “Look it up in the dictionary.  Now.” (meaning I couldn’t put it off for a less busy moment, I guess).  I was hoping it would be a good thing but I had my suspicions that it wasn’t; my older sister was the usual recipient of random compliments, not me.  I was the one everyone looked at when someone said, “Who did that?!”

 I fiddled through the pages of the dictionary until I found it, or at least what I hoped was it because how in the hell do you spell ‘procrastinate’?  It said:

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In Defense of my Blog

I received my first negative feedback today. I read it over and over again and my face grew warm and my throat closed up.  I knew it would happen eventually.  Of course I knew!  You can’t put yourself out there and expect no one to take issue with something you said or wrote or did.  I expected it with my first post with a comment that read something like “What are you even doing here in the Bloggesphere? Get thee back to whence thou came, Amateur!”  When it didn’t happen I started to hope that perhaps I had something to offer to the world.  Admittedly it’s not the ability to time travel or the abolishment of corduroy but still….

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