Blog It Out, Bitch Page 4

  What the shit?

  "I forgot to pay the garbage bill."

  Now, I too had forgotten to pay the garbage bill a few months ago and nearly had a social heart attack when pick-up day came and the garbage men told us to kiss their asses. No, seriously. They didn't take my trash, instead left a note that read, Kiss my ass. My main fear was that come Wednesday night all the neighbors would see that our trash hadn't been taken.

  "I don't want them to think we didn't pay our bill." I explained to Donny in a panicked voice after he questioned why I was suggesting he gather our trash and dump it somewhere else; like behind a supermarket or restaurant with their trash.

  "Well, we didn't pay our bill."

  "Yeah, but I don't want them to know that!"

  Now the situation was completely reversed, but I couldn't say anything because he didn't make me feel like an ass when I did it. Instead, I seethed and went back to Googling, "husband poison."

  I Got Served

  July 2, 2006

  You're aware of my garbage problem right? I noticed lots of opossums in our backyard, husband revealed that there are mounds of garbage piled up behind the house due to nonpayment of garbage bill, husband decided to keep this from me because it is his turn to handle the bills and he didn't want me to know he'd dropped the ball. We switch off the responsibility of handling the bills every few months. It keeps each of us from wanting to shoot ourselves in the temple if we share the financial burden that comes with being homeowners.

  Donny assured me that he'd handled the garbage situation. He said that an online payment had been sent the next day after his confession. It has been three weeks now, and still no picking up of garbage. My backyard was beginning to resemble Sanford & Son. To add insult to injury, last Wednesday (pick-up day) they took the garbage out of the can, sat it on top of the mounds of bags on the curb that couldn't fit in said can, and took our can away.

  Donny called them last week to find out what the deal was. Turns out they never received our payment, and even worse, they say that the address we sent it to via our bank's online bill pay is incorrect. They claim they didn't move, but that we had the wrong address all along. I called bullshit on that because it's the same way we've always paid the bill for the three years we'd been in our house. And guess how much money caused this whole drama? $40! They were boycotting our garbage for forty measly bucks! Donny pays the money over the phone, stops payment on the check that is floating around God knows where, and the lady assures him we will have our can back on Monday and our trash picked up on Wednesday.

  Monday comes, no can. They dropped it off Tuesday. There was so much trash sitting on our curb in anticipation of pick-up day, it was downright embarrassing. I'm sitting at the computer, working on my morning blog when I hear the garbage truck come and go. I run to the front door, peek out the sidelights, and there is the trash at the curb, overflowing with trash. Grrrr.

  I grab the phone, and call the number on the side of the can. Before the lady can get the words, "How can I help you" out of her mouth, I'm cussing her out. I'm being sarcastic and I'm using foul language and big words. I do that on purpose when I'm being outraged with customer service. I use really big words to make them feel even smaller than they already must for having a shitty job like taking sanitation complaints.

  I tell her that I spend more than forty dollars on lipstick, that they can take their forty dollars and shove it up their asses, that there's no way in hell we've been sending the money to the wrong address for three years, and that somebody better come and get this damn trash before possums invade my house and bite my baby, then I'll have to come to her shit hole of an office and slit her throat. By the end of it, I'm pretty sure I was foaming at the mouth.

  She places me on hold to contact the driver, and after she does I can see the truck pause at the cul-de-sac down the street from ours. "That's right, bitches. Come get my trash!" Customer service girl with a freshly ripped asshole comes back on the line.

  CSGWFRA: "Ma'am?”

  N: "Yes?”

  CSGWFRA: "That wasn't the garbage pick-up. That was the recycling pick-up. The garbage truck hasn't come by yet, but when they do, they will definitely pick up your trash.”

  N: "Oh.”

  I felt like the biggest twat in the history of twats. I mumbled some final lame ass, "Well, they better." And hung up.

  Field Day

  July 14, 2006

  Last night, around midnight, after not being able to sleep, I decided to watch Cold Case Files. It’s a true crime show where they show how cold, unsolved crimes were solved after many years. I love it, but it spooks me out.

  As the show finished I heard a noise downstairs. I nudged Donny. Nothing. I nudged him again. Nothing. Finally, I slapped his arm, and asked one of two stupid questions usually asked in this situation. The first being, "Are you sleeping?" I mean, he was just softly snoring two seconds before. I knew he was sleeping. I went with stupid question number two.

  "Did you hear that?"

  "No."

  And that's it. He made no move to get out of bed, to investigate, or to check that our child was still snug as a bug in bed. Nothing makes a person think, "Why the hell did I marry your ass again?" more than watching your husband roll over and spoon his pillow when a rapist could be in the house.

  I checked all of downstairs, came back upstairs, and he had the nerve to ask, "Everything ok?"

  "Yeah, glad to know you had my back, dickass."

  "I had your back."

  "Yeah, I coulda been raped and murdered two times over. Get off of me. Don't try to cuddle me now."

  This morning he redeemed himself. Kali wouldn't get up for school. She cried that she didn't want to go. It was Field Day, but she didn't care. As a matter of fact, I suspect that may be the reason she didn't want to go. Donny and I were sitting on her bed trying to talk her into getting up.

  I'm a wimp. I was thisclose to letting her stay home, but Donny put his foot down and explained to Kali that she had to go and she'd be sad if she missed Field Day. He encouraged her to try her best, and told her that she just may surprise herself with how well she did and how much fun she had.

  I remember hating Field Day as a kid. I was always tall, lanky, and skinny. Any kind of organized sports activity scared me. My days as a cheerleader came to crashing halt after I slipped on another girl's pom-poms during a basketball game, and busted my ass in front of the whole school. Field Day was like asking me to come to school naked and do jumping jacks. I felt Kali's pain, however; I didn't want her to be one of those kids, afraid to try. Donny reminded me of that. He helped motivate her into going.

  As I evaluate my life and marriage and try to figure out what is working, and what needs improvement, I maintain a list of pros and cons. In Donny's pro column I have, "Great father." On the con side: "Totally okay with me getting raped and murdered."

  Cucumber Melon Ass

  August 2, 2006

  So, yesterday was Donny's second day of vacation, and the first day we actually did anything. We went out to the movies, did a little shopping, and had dinner. After the movie, I was cranky. They saw Over the Hedge, and I saw Miami Vice. I leave the theatre and Donny's sitting in the lobby watching Kali play a video game.

  "How was it?” he asked.

  “I hate you.”

  See, I thought I was actually doing something by seeing Miami Vice. I was trying to prove a point. Donny hates the idea of us seeing movies we both want to see alone. If I even suggest that I might go see a movie alone, his lower lip quivers and his eyes water. This time, I refused to give in. I put my foot down. I had a big old rant.

  “I don't want to see some chick flick. I hate chick flicks! I wanna see Miami Vice! You can go see it alone another time or rent it. Why we gotta do everything together? Damn. I can't go see what I want, when I want, by myself? Is this not America? Are you my master now? Massah, can I’s go see Miami Vice, suh? Give us free!”

  Fast forward to the end of the movie
and I'm crying and Donny has a smug look on his face.

  “Over the Hedge was good.”

  “Fuck you and Over... Oh hey, Kali. How was your movie?”

  “It was sooo good! It was awesome. It was the funniest movie I've ever seen. It was the best movie I've ever seen. How was your movie, Mommy?”

  “It was...the exact opposite of your movie.”

  We head to Wal-Mart. I need a wax kit, we want to pick up Kali's school supply list, and I want the Smallville season three box set. As we're walking through the parking lot, I realize that it's hot as fucking balls outside. Kali and Donny are in shorts. My dumb ass is in jeans. Call that my jackass move-of-the-day number two. That's what my Dad calls it when someone does something stupid. "Then he went and made the jackass move...."

  So, we're walking across the parking lot and my jeans are literally clinging to me and they feel heavy and wet. I'm wearing this shirt that kinda hangs off my shoulders and I'm trudging across the parking lot, boobs practically hanging out, my hair pinned up, squinting behind a pair of sunglasses, and feeling like a big, fat, sweating cow.

  “You are so sexy.”

  “Donny, are you delirious from the heat? I look a hot ass mess.”

  “No, you look sexy as hell.”

  “Ah, that's sweet. Grab a shopping cart.”

  We shop for a bit. I stock up on some Nair for my legs, a Nair stick for my upper lip, a Sally Henson eyebrow wax kit, and lots of Oil of Olay face products. Then hunger hits me so suddenly that my whole body goes weak. My hands start shaking and I'm overcome with waves of heat. We pass the candy aisle and I start tossing shit in my cart. First, two big Symphony bars.

  “How can you eat that? They're just blocks of sugar.” Donny stares at the candy.

  "Leave me alone.”

  A bag of mini Snickers go in next. Then, a bag of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. And the biggest bag of Skittles ever. We head over to electronics to get Smallville, and while Donny looks, I can't take it anymore. I reach in the cart and rip open one of the Symphony bars.

  “Ooooh, can I have some?” Kali asks.

  I toss her a few squares to keep her quiet. I hate when people eat in the supermarket, but fuck it, I'm starving. These are extenuating circumstances. I really thought I would faint. As we walk through the aisles I catch Donny shooting me looks every so often.

  “What?”

  “You. You're moaning.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes.Is it that good?”

  “Hey, don't judge me. I'm hungry.” We get everything we need and go to check out.I barely let go of the huge chocolate bar long enough for the woman to scan it. As we're exiting, the alarm goes off. Normally, I'd be mortified, but as the lady with the scanner gun goes over our receipt, and she and Donny try to figure out what caused the alarm to sound, all I care about is my chocolate. I'm standing there, as people pass us by looking at us as if we're thieves, licking my fingers and stuffing my face.

  In the car, Donny asks, “Where do you want to go eat?”

  I'm sprawled out in the passenger seat, chocolate on my face. “I don't care...I want hot wings... and vegetables... with sweet tea. And maybe some beef.”

  Donny snickers. “You want…”

  “If the words hot beef injection leave your mouth, I will punch you in it.”

  We decide on Buffalo's because I know I'll like their wings since we've had them many times.

  “Or we can try that new place,” Donny says. “They have a sign up for all you can eat wings.”

  “No, what if I don't like them? I'm too hungry to take a chance on a new place.”

  “Yeah, that's true. We need to get you what you want or the world will end.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Donny laughs. “Oh, you know what I mean.”

  Kali chimes in from the backseat. “He doesn't mean literally.” Apparently, this is my child's new word. Literally. Kali's decided she's had enough of this conversation. “Daddy, guess what? Thursday, Mommy and I are going to the aquarium.” I told Kali the week before that, "When Daddy's on vacation, we're going to the aquarium."

  “I know. I'm going too.” Donny smiles at her in the rearview mirror.

  “I thought you were going on vacation.” Kali says.

  “I am on vacation.”

  “When do you leave?”

  “I'm not going anywhere. This is my vacation... spending time with you guys.”

  “Oh, I thought you were leaving on vacation and Mommy and I were going to the aquarium.”

  He laughs again. “Is it okay ifI come too?”

  “It's okay with me, ask Mommy.”

  The restaurant was uneventful. I ate a lot, and drank like ten glasses of sweet tea. Much later, Kali's in bed, I'm standing at the kitchen table in a little white nightie, and I'm elbow deep in that big ass bag of Skittles. Donny's playing some football game on the XBOX in the next room.

  “You know what I just thought of? I grabbed this little sample bottle of cologne at Wal-Mart. I sat it in the cart. I think that's what was going off. Maybe Kali was sitting on it, but when I unpacked the bags, I didn't see it and it's not on the receipt. I think we just left it in the cart.”

  “Why the fuck are you buying cologne from Wal-Mart?” I ask through a mouth full of Skittles.

  “It was a little sample bottle, like five bucks, and I wanted to try it out.”

  “So?”

  “It was Perry Ellis.”

  “It's still Wal-Mart.”

  “Who cares?”

  I shrug. “Hmmm. Well. I guess if that's how you were raised.”

  We head up to bed and I start using my new face stuff. I'm all scrubbed and exfoliated and moisturized, but my top lip looks fuzzy. I decide to try my new Nair stick.

  Note: I've never used a Nair product in my life.

  Sensing possible comedic relief, Donny joins me in the master bathroom. I apply the cream to my upper lip using the little, pink, tube applicator. I look like a milk ad, or porno, gone wrong.

  "How long do you leave it on?” Donny asks.

  "Five minutes.”

  Donny reads from the direction for Nair that goes on my legs. “This only takes three minutes.”

  "Well, let's test that while we wait for my lip.”

  So, we spread a towel on the bed and I lay there as he lathers my right leg in Nair.

  After a few minutes I ask, “What's that smell?”

  "The Nair... eating away the flesh on your face.”

  "That's not funny!”

  "That's what it smells like!”

  He's right. The shit on my lip smells like hair relaxer, and that doesn't make me feel good at all about it being on my face. The stuff on my leg doesn't smell any better even though it's supposed to be Cucumber Melon scented.

  "Does that smell like cucumber melon to you?” I ask.

  “It smells like cucumber melon ass.”

  “Go get me a wet washcloth so I can wipe this off my lips. It's been five minutes and it's burning.” I wipe it off. “Did it work?”

  Donny's cracking up. Apparently it worked straight across the top of my lip, under my nose, but the sides (corners of my mouth) still had whiskers. And because the top was freshly removed, the area is lighter and slightly red which only makes the corners look darker and hairier. I hobble to the bathroom mirror; my right leg covered in stinky Nair like it's a full cast.

  “Fuck! Stop laughing. I have to do the corners again.” My top lip looked like a reverse Hitler mustache. It's at that point that I realize my right leg is on fire. “Damn! It's been three minutes; help me wipe this off my leg.” I stand in the tub and we both start wiping away at the Nair with wet rags. It worked in some areas better than others, but I still felt like the stuff was on me so I jumped in the shower. As soon as the water hit, I regretted it. It didn't really hurt, just very prickly. My skin was too sensitive to be touched after I'd just willingly smeared it with lye. I look down in the shower, and I'l
l be damned if my right leg wasn't lighter than my left. It's like it removed hair and skin.

  I crawl into bed with Donny. One hairy leg, one smooth. We watch two episodes of Rescue Me, and pretend that our bedroom doesn't smell like cucumber melon ass.

  I’m Joining a Gym… NOW!

  August 17, 2006

  Um, yeah so… I just got back from my walk/run around the subdivision. My calves feel like they’ve been bitten by dogs. Let me tell you why it’s so hard for me to get on the right track for diet and exercise. Life gets in the way!

  First of all, after I put Kali on the bus and posted my morning blog I had planned on going for my walk/run then. I say walk/run because I really wasn’t sure what I’d be in the mood to do once I got out there. It was really cool out this morning and somewhat cloudy so I thought that would be perfect. I have a thing with the sun. I don’t like it. My family calls me a vampire because I never open the blinds and will rarely turn on a light unless absolutely necessary. I had Donny install a dimmer in the dining area of the kitchen because I felt like McDonald’s fries sitting under a heat lamp every time we sat down for a meal.

  ANYWAY, where was I? Oh yeah, my plan to go fairly early before it got much hotter was foiled when Donny called. “I’m coming home soon. We have to take the blue car to get an emissions test before Monday. I need you to go with me to drop the car off.”

  This summer we got away with having one car. Kali was out of school and Donny was home from work before my classes began. Now that she’s back in school and my fall classes start on Monday, we need to get our other car (a blue Toyota something or other) registered as most of my classes are during the day while he’s at work.

  I contemplate going for my walk/run anyway, and then making his ass drive around the subdivision to find me, but I stay home and fart around MySpace. He finally shows and I follow him to the emissions place. We get there and guess what? They don’t do emissions anymore. So, we head down the road to another place. By this time the sun is rearing its ugly head and I’m getting cranky. Visions of cardiac arrest dance in my head. I glance in the rearview mirror and notice that I have more grey hairs than ever before. Oh, joy. And I turn 32 tomorrow.