Well, since you asked ...

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Okay, here's the before. Blah beigey-yellow walls, chock full o' paint drips, nail holes, etc.:
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And here's the after! This was the only pic I got that shows the true color, kind of a turquoise (look at the corner juncture to get the color:
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And yeah, that cabinet really IS in that bad of a shape. I was thinking about painting that one end that looks the worst, either with a brown stain or maybe white?

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Then again, I don't want to go anywhere NEAR a paintbrush any time soon. Four-and-a-half freaking hours, is what it took me to do ONE COAT on that bathroom. And it's TINY! Sheesh.

Swimming Pool

After a year and a half of stalling by any excuse necessary*, the bathroom is FINALLY painted.

Swimming Pool blue.

And oh my God the taping and spackling and sanding and painting and cleaning and I swear I am NEVER painting that damn bathroom again.

Swimming Pool it is. I hope I like it.




*A year and a half! I'm like a professional procrastinator. I should get business cards.

Freaky Friday

Okay, okay, so evidently none of you are too fond of bones, so let's do stuffed animals this week, shall we? You DO like stuffed animals, don't you?

Meet Uneveneye, her baby Uneveneyesewedin, and Rufus:

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Uneveneye is the kangaroo on the left, so named because, well, her eyes are uneven. And her baby, down there in the pouch, is Uneveneyesewedin, because ... oh boy, keep in mind I was a KID when I named these guys ... her eyes are uneven, and she is sewed into mama's pouch.

My sister Texas spent several years in Australia, and she came back to the states when I was maybe ... ten? Eleven? I don't really remember for sure, but I remember Sis had an Australian accent when she came back. I'd beg her to say, "cup of tea, mate", because it sounded SO COOL with that accent. Heh.

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Aaaannnd she brought me Uneveneye and Uneveneyesewedin, so how cool is that? They are supposedly made out of real kangaroo skin, which I'm pretty sure is illegal now, but whatever. Bygones.

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The dog on the right is Rufus. He's got a little wear and tear, but then again, I've had him for forty-four years. My Dad brought him back for me when he went on a business trip when I was four. I've since done a little research and found out that he is a Dakin Dream Pet. He's stuffed with sawdust. I slept with him every night for years and years and years. I used to make him little outfits and play with him like a Barbie. I puked on him the first time I ever got drunk. That dang dog was like a best friend to me.

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Awww, now I'm getting all sentimental *sniff*. How about you? Any favorite stuffed animals?

Evidently, "Peep is Risen" didn't go over so well

Usually, when I go to my sister TIB's house for a holiday meal, it's my assignment to bring dessert. Which tended to involve a couple of kinds of pie, until this past Easter, when I decided to get all creative and do an art installation instead.


So anyway, I called TIB the other night to see what she wanted me to bring for Thanksgiving, and she said, "rolls".


HAHAHAHAHAHAHA


As it turns out, I guess I was the only one who thought "Peep is Risen" was hysterical.



Rolls it is.








Maybe I'm adopted.


Happy Thanksgiving!

Is it just me?

Okay, okay, I've gotten in trouble for this kind of thing before, but ... check out this link. Check out the last name of the mayor.



Oh, people. If I had that last name ... scratch that, because I WOULD NOT HAVE THAT LAST NAME. As soon as I was old enough, I would change that sonofabitch so fast it would make your head spin.



Because think about it. It's not just her. She is also gifting that little prize onto future generations. Nonononono.



That's just wrong.

The reasons men grow beards

First off, I've never been a fan of facial hair. Mustaches just look ... too seventies, and it itches when you kiss. I think some guys just don't like to shave, but hell, I've been shaving my legs for thirty-odd years and it hasn't killed me yet. I do think, though, that there are three main reasons a guy grows a beard.

1. He's a total stone-cold fox and grows a scruffy beard to knock you out with his now-foxier-than-ever self.


2. He's getting bald and is desperate to grow hair someplace, ANYPLACE.


3. He's getting fat and is trying to conceal a double chin.




Sadly, it's almost always 2 or 3, and almost never 1.

Freaky Friday: Bones

Warning: This post contains pictures of animal bones. If that squicks you out, you're gonna want to skip this one.























Okay! Still here?





This is a deer skull that rests in a wicker chair in the willow tree out back:







In case you're wondering where I get all the bones, well, it's mostly from walking in the woods. Hunters will often drop and field dress a deer, and then just leave the carcass behind. Sometimes coyotes will scatter the kill, but several times I've found entire skeletons, just resting on the ground. I try to always display the bones in a respectful way, just because it seems the right thing to do, although hell, I don't care if somebody makes a xylophone out of my bones after I die; it's not like I'll be using them or anything.





I don't know what the little skull below belongs to:










I put the feather there for scale; the actual skull is about two-and-a-half inches across. Check out those teeth! Chomp.

Holy SHIT when the f*ck did that happen?!?!

I was looking at the calendar the other day and noticed that I have a birthday coming up. I'm going to be 48.

Whaaaaaaaaaaa?

How on EARTH can it be that I'm going to be forty-frickin-EIGHT? That's OLD! That's, like, one foot in the grave time, for Christ's sake!

Where did the time go? What have I accomplished? I haven't even been to Hawaii yet!

Holy crap, instant midlife crisis.

I think I've got a new motto: "Life is short. Whoop it up."

Maybe I'll get some t-shirts printed up.

Ooops

I picked up one of the cats' toy mice last night to give it a toss so they could chase it, only to discover ...

... it wasn't a toy.

Isn't it ironic, doncha think

On Saturday, my neighbor asked me to help her with her lawnmower, which HAHAHAHAHA talking about the blind leading the blind, there, but as it turns out, she has carpal tunnel syndrome and couldn't get enough leverage on the pull start to get the engine to turn, and seeing as how MY lawn mower takes an average of 462 pulls to get it started, I'm kind of an expert on the ol' pull start, so it all turned out fine.

Although it kind of boggled my mind that she'd be out there mowing in mid-November. I mean, I put my lawn mower up for the year a good three weeks ago, and it would take an act of Congress to get me to haul that thing out of the shed again before next April. My neighbor said that there was just one patch of her lawn that was shaggy, and she wanted to get that finished up, which - well, my lawn's gonna be shaggy till spring, is all.

Oh! But I DID wash the car in the driveway on Saturday. It was sunny and sixty and it probably won't get that warm again until next year, so make hay while the sun shines and all that.

Then! Speaking of making hay, I walked into the living room yesterday to find Little Girl up on the coffee table (NOT allowed), licking jalapeno dip off a plate.

Really, LG? Really? I hope she doesn't have a tummy ache this morning.

Freaky Friday!

I have some religious medals up on the Giant Wall O' Religion featured in last week's Freaky Friday. This one is interesting:

This thing is only about the size of a quarter and the print is really small, so I took the words that I could read, "Confraternity of the Precious Blood", googled, and voila!

Crazy Catholics. Seriously, if you've got some time, go check out that web site. You can even buy this medal! There's an education in nutso-land, right there.

Look, I'm just saying, if you think that wearing someone else's blood around is going to protect you from harm, you might want to lay off the Twilight books and zombie movies for a while, is all.

Frankly, I'd be a little afraid that Jesus would come after his blood. I mean, how many people are wearing these things? He's gotta be a little light-headed.

Then again, I'm not Catholic, so what do I know?

Oh! If you want to go check out some really cool old pics, head over to Mental Floss, where they're doing a series of them.

And oh my God, you guys, I have found my people. I was flipping through channels last night and happened upon a show called "Oddities" on the Discovery channel. It's all about a shop called Obscura Antiques and Oddities, which is chock full of Freaky Friday. Someday I WILL work in that store. Count on it.

Kitty Pr0n

Some of you may find the following images disturbing, but I think they're funny, so stuff it.


This one's for the laydeeez:

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Strike a pose, Runt:

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The sunflower dishtowel on the right is his nuk-nuk. Hey, everybody needs a security blanket now and then. Oh, and you can see that he actually has fur on his stomach now, as opposed to the plucked-chicken look he was sporting a few months ago. Thanks, steroids!

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Just so you can see how long he actually is, I put a ruler on the bed:

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Oh, and here's his sister:

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We prefer the term "special".

They just leave the stuff lying around

So! I got home the other night to find an aluminum-bending machine and a case of aluminum in my backyard.

I am assuming that they were delivered there by the window-trimmer guy, who then ... got sick and had to leave? Got a call that his wife needed a ride and had to go pick her up? Forgot about daylight savings time ending and ran out of daylight?

Seriously, I have no idea, because all the equipment was there, but the windows still weren't trimmed.

And that aluminum-bending machine, also known as a break, runs upward of a grand.

You know, I live in a good neighborhood, but I'm pretty sure that even I wouldn't leave an easily-loaded-into-a-pickup-truck piece of equipment worth a thousand dollars just lying around.

Oh! And earlier this summer, when the surveyor guy was at the house (the surveyor dude who never did find the corner pins to my property, because evidently the entire neighborhood was laid out somewhat wonky, to the extent where, at one point, I shit you not, he was scratching his head and asking me, "Do you know if they ever moved that road?"), okay ... um .... where was I?

Oh yeah! The surveyor went to lunch and left his digital transit, a very expensive piece of surveying equipment, set up by the side of the road. Where anybody passing by could just scoop it up and drive away.

Then again, maybe it was how I was raised. My dad would have KILLED me if I had so much as left a bicycle out on the lawn overnight. Even today, I don't even leave the flippin' lawnmower out in the yard, although maybe I should, in hopes that someone actually WOULD steal the damn thing and then I could buy one that actually RUNS ...


Wait! Where was I again? Oh yeah! Do you leave steal-able stuff out in the open? Because now I'm starting to wonder if I'm some kind of non-trusting weirdo.


Oh! Oh! One more question! How do I know when to use "lay" and when to use "lie"? IT'S KILLING ME. I mean, I know that if you place something, you "lay" it down. But is the object then "laying" there or "lying" there? I CANNOT FIGURE IT OUT.

.... and then there was that OTHER weird thing that happened this weekend ...

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... other than the smoke alarm, that is:

I gave a thumbs-up to a grocery store clerk.

Seriously?

Really?

What is WRONG with me? What am I, the Fonz?

"Aaaaaaayyyyyyyyyy!"


Jeezus.

What the f*ck, smoke alarm?

Preface: Let me just say RIGHT NOW that I went to Home Depot on Sunday and bought a new smoke alarm. Okay. And now that I think about, I think I'll go back and buy another one.


So! Like a good little doobee, on Saturday I was changing out the batteries on my carbon monoxide detectors and the smoke alarm. I changed the battery in the smoke alarm and pressed the test button, bracing myself for the ear-piercing, instant-headache-producing shriek, and instead what I got was this:

meeeeeeeeeeep ee ee meeeeeeeeeep

Whaaaa? That ain't right! I tried another battery, and still all I got was a pathetic little mewl. I never knew smoke alarms had a "crying kitten" mode.

Seriously, I thought when a smoke alarm was dying, it was supposed to beep, like, every fifteen seconds, to let you know it's on the way out. I had NO IDEA a smoke alarm could just give up the ghost without notifying you.

Whenever I read an article about a house fire where there wasn't any smoke alarm, or the batteries had been taken out of the smoke alarm, or .... waaaaaait a minute. I think I remember reading a couple of times about house fires where the smoke alarm was "non-functioning."

IS THIS WHAT THEY MEANT? When the smoke alarm gives out a little "meep" instead of a brain-damaging scream?

Because I always read those articles and go, "What idiots!" about the homeowners. Who on earth is TOO F*CKING STUPID to have a working smoke alarm?

Evidently, I am.

Freaky Friday!

Way back this past spring I mentioned my Giant Wall O' Religion in a different Freaky Friday post, and then forgot to show it to you. So, here 'tis:

This was inspired by the awesomely terrifying statue of Saint Jude I found a while back. Now, whenever I find a piece of religious imagery sufficiently tacky and/or strange, up it goes on the wall.


The local Catholic religious store is a gold mine for this stuff. I'll tell you what, you walk into the local evangelical religious store and it's all rote-issue bibles and crosses and boring. You walk into the Catholic store, and it's, like, BLAM! Bleeding hearts and daggers and angry angels and ... oh, it's fantastic, is what it is.


Ya gotta love those crazy Catholics.

The new windows are in, and they're specTACular!

Despite a steady rain, the window guys showed up this morning, and I want to tell you, those dudes can MOVE.

Two men took out eight old windows, installed eight new ones, leveled, trimmed, insulated, caulked, and cleaned up, all in a little over two hours.

The exterior sills and frames still have to be wrapped, and then it's all done. Needless to say, I'm not paying the balance of the bill until all work is complete, meaning I'm pretty sure somebody will show up to finish the job.

So, because they were only there for a couple of hours, I decided against feeding and/or tipping. Hope that was okay. Oh, and queen, one of them DID ask to use the bathroom, so at least I know they weren't peeing in the backyard.

Next up: Gutters.

So this is progress?

I went to vote at my new polling place last night. It was to be the first time I'd voted using the new electronic system, as opposed to the old levers, and I was excited! Yay, technology!

So imagine my surprise when I signed in and the guy handed me a piece of paper.

"Um ... paper?", I said. "What ... is this?"

"It's your ballot!", the guy explained. "Take it over to a privacy booth, fill it out with one of the pens provided, then take it to the scanner and enter it face up!"

Paper? Pens? Little circles to fill in, like on the old multiple-choice tests in high school?

I think we're going backward. I want my levers back.

Spreckles

Please to ignore the scratch on her nose; I'm pretty sure that was inflicted by her brother in one of their wrestling matches.

Those black spots on the end of her nose aren't dirt. When the cats were about a year old, I noticed some black spots in The Runt's mouth when he yawned, which led to a tussle and hold-down so I could see what was going on in there. There were random black spots, kind of like freckles or specks, on his gums. A few months later I noticed some on Little Girl's gums, and then some on The Runt's eyelids. The ones on Little Girl's nose showed up last, about six months ago.

A little worried (OMG IT'S CANNNNNNCCCEEERRRRRRRRRR), I asked the vet about it, and she said that it's a quirk of orange cats. I asked her if the spots were freckles, and she said no, they were "random pigmentation". A little nosing (heh) around on line revealed that the technical term is "lentigo simplex", just in case it ever comes up in a trivia contest. About spots. On cats.

Little Girl calls them beauty marks.

Halloween 2010

Come on over to my place! The rats are waiting to greet you:



Favorite moment of the night? When a wee little girl, dressed as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, reached up to pet the giant rat on the railing, sighing, "Oh, I just love your bears."





Earlier in the day, one of the neighbor kids, who proudly informed me that she was a skele-biker, asked me why the giant bat was wearing a tiara.

Heck, why not? In the land of the strange, anything goes.