Okay, a little backstory – Bekah and I met up this weekend. We hit the rainy beach at around 2 p.m. on Friday and by 8 (maybe earlier?) was passed smooth out. 12 Irish Car Bombs will do that to you. (But you get a free t-shirt after 20! I have a little card that never expires and the bartender marks it whenever you have one. I’ll go back someday to polish off those other 8.)

If I can remember the backstory to the little conversation snippets, I’ll write them in bold. (my words are in italics)

You would really rather eat your own eyeball than feel guilt again?

Yes.

You obviously have too much guilt in your life.

I’m taking care of shit.

***

I’m going to boil you and eat you alive before the tsunami kills us all.
I never go to the beach. The one time I make plans to it storms like a motherfucker. I told Bekah that it would be our luck that a tsunami was going to hit too. I was going to eat her to save her the horror of drowning.

***

See and you can’t die with your shirt all fucked up so leave that shit on backwards and live tonight.
Bekah got a stomach bug and realized after a bathroom run that her shirt was on backwards. I decided that you don’t get to die if your clothes aren’t on right. I didn’t want her to fix her shirt because then she might die.

***

But that’d cost a dollar to get there.

You wouldn’t pay a dollar to give her a proper burial at sea?

I’m not sure that tossing her dead body into the waves is a proper burial at sea.

Oh.
A discussion after we thought a hedgehog was dead. Even though it wasn’t, we played the “what if she had died” game.

***

So what? You’ll still be alive. Shit washes, death doesn’t.
I say it’s better to shit yourself while you’re sick than to flat die from it.

You have to be a special kind of creature to spend more than 15 minutes with me.

18 Comments | In: conversation, toast | | #

Got a call from my doctor. Seems that my bloodwork reveals that I am an unhealthy slug. Surprise, surprise. He wants to see me in the flesh on Friday to discuss these findings.

Sweety bowls Friday night. He just announced, “In 72 hours? I’m going to be drunk!” I chime in with, “Me too!”

No, you’re going to be on a diet. You won’t get to drink.

I’ll drink Jack Daniel’s and Diet Coke!

Do you know what that is? CALORIES! How about you have a Jack Daniel’s enema? I’ll take a swig and then blow it into your ass.

He then pantomimed the position I would assume and the angle at which he would hold his head.

The scary part? I think he was serious.

In other news, he just ate a family sized sack of Cheetos.

I hate his metabolism. Fuck you, Sweety’s metabolism. Of course, I harbor NOOOOOO ill will towards him for sitting here and eating that whole fucking sack.

10 Comments | In: daily blah, husband, toast | | #

You know it was a wild night when your first thought upon waking is, “Wow, I didn’t puke!” and the first words out of your mouth are, “Sorry I peed on you last night.”

Yesterday started off innocently enough. Sweety bowled and I went to see the boys play baseball.

Before going to the game, I had to get a prescription filled for BB (he has some kind of shit in his eye) and that lead to a break in my almost 2.5 years of silence towards the coaew. She had told Sweety she’d get it filled but I remembered that he’d had this same thing a couple of years ago and the cost of it was outrageous even with a copay. I was afraid she’d go to get it filled and then have an issue with the price. I was forced to say, “I don’t think it needs to be refrigerated but I didn’t think it was a good idea to leave it in my car.” Damn. Does the speaking count if I don’t initiate it? I’m saying no.

The boys’ baseball team got stomped and I was happy to come home out of the hot and take my damned clothes off. I was dinking around on the computer when I smelled something weird. Like dog shit. Or puke. Something nasty. I look at Stinky Dog and ask her what the fuck did she just do. She did not reply. The smell didn’t go away so I searched the house for a “present” and found nothing.

I noticed the smell was stronger in the kitchen but there wasn’t anything on the floor in there. That’s when I remember that I’d cooked a bag of frozen brussel sprouts when I’d gotten home. Then I had to decide if I really wanted to eat something that had an odor that reminded me of dog poop. I decided I did. It was good with some cheese and spices on top.

I was just getting ready to take a nap when I got a text from my friend (her husband & Sweety bowl together) asking if I was going to the bowling alley and out to eat dinner when they were done bowling. I took this as a sign to get off of the couch and socialize.

Holy shit, did I socialize.

I got to see Sweety’s shirt for this bowling league. They decided on nicknames to put on their shirts a few weeks ago after they had all had lots of beer.

Of course, I love it! Hee, hee.

Dinner and whatnot ended before 9 and we came on home.

We had sex all over the neighborhood last night. And the house. Have I mentioned we have wooden floors? Yeah. Ouch. I’ll be ready to do it again when the swelling and bruises fade a bit.

7 Comments | In: toast | | #

Sometimes Sweety likes to bond with Tiny Dog after they’ve been drinking beer. Click to biggum!

I love that she’s just a blur in the last photo because she couldn’t get away fast enough. She’s got some sharp toenails as you can tell from the expression on Sweety’s face.

I’ll see you all again in a week or so. After we leave here tomorrow, I’ll be without internet service. It will do me good to be off of the grid for awhile.

14 Comments | In: Tiny Dog, husband, toast | | #