Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.


Stuff that's painfully obvious (part 1)

Argh! Maybe it's the no-job, maybe it's hormones, maybe it's a lack of sleep, or maybe it's something else, but here are a few things I'd need to get off my chest/don't want to hear/see anymore.

1. "Gee, Evil's not lookin' too perky." Really? I just saw her and she was doing my Ethel Merman routine, right down to the tap dancing and fire batons. She. Is. Dying. I know it. I'm painfully aware of the fact that she has at least seven little warty bumps that are getting bigger. her easter egg is getting bigger. The only thing that is not getting bigger? Her belly. Why? Because she's not eating, except what I give her mixed with her drugs. And she cowers every time I come near, because I inevitably am going to squirt something in her mouth. When she does venture forth to snag a bit of kibble, she throws it up. I'm trying. And I know she's not doing well, so stuff it, or you're getting a syringe full of turkey baby food, prednisone, and pepcid in your eye. (And Cosell like play-by-play the next time YOU feel sick. "She's rolling over to hoark now, and yes... it looks like the last thing she had was vegetable soup...")

2. What did YOU do today? Just once, I want to answer "Slaughtered a hobo. You?" Look. Around. You. Are the massive piles of shoes, newspapers, dishes, BEER BOTTLES (aaaaagh!) and assorted other crap in the same places they were when you left this morning? No? Give you a hint, the shit fairy didn't come take it all away. What did I do today? Cleaned up after you. Baked. Did laundry. Exciting, no? Oh yeah, and looked for another damned job, so simmer down.

3. For the love of all that is holy, the sink is right next to the dishwasher! Every time you put a dish in the sink, and not in the dishwasher, the baby jeebus cries hot little tears of blood. Or maybe that's me. I forget. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

3.a. Instant coffee! If you are going to make that horrible shit, push the canister back against the wall where it came from. You move it out 5 inches to make your freeze-dried-sludge, and simply don't have the energy to put it back? Gah! And Eggs! If you make scrambled eggs, Soak the pan! Oatmeal too! And the toaster! PUT IT BACK!

4.The Bathroom light can be turned off too. Really, it can. It's not some sort of commie/pinko conspiracy. Honest to Yuengling, the switch goes up, AND down. And would it kill you to clean out the sink every once in a while there, Odie? It's not like you're Captain Facial hair, but I'm gettin' real tired of walking into a brightly lit bathroom hours after you've been in it, only to find stubble in the sink, towels bunched up on every available space, and your pants on the floor.

I know. Move.
Workin' on it.
This shit keeps up, I may be moving to prison.


Blogger Steph said...

Sauce, i promise to hand write you letters in the Big House. i might even slip a bottle of Jack in the back of a carved out bible, too. that is, unless there's something else you'll need to woo your soon-to-be girfriends.

4:18 PM  
Blogger Special Sauce said...

Woot! Because I know I cannot survive on charm alone. Jack is good, and handwritten letters are even better.


And one to add to the list "Gee, why haven't you been to the gym since you're not working?"

Well, first, let me thank you for noticing my ass, which is in a holding pattern, not expanding. Secondly, been busy. Baking. Cleaning. LOOKING FOR A JOOOOB. And by the time I remember that I CAN go, it's too late in the day. (Midday is good, early afternoon is good, much later than that and the after-work squad comes in. I don't need an audience for my jiggly butt.)

Though I have been working out some on my own (thank you ever so much for noticing. Oh, that's right. You didn't.) (not you, Steph.)

4:35 PM  
Blogger Memphis Word Nerd said...

Poor Sauce! My kitties are sending warm thoughts to Evil.

In the meantime, we're hunkered down in front of the Preakness. Something about men wearing fuschia silk fascinates them. Me, I'm purely in it for the athletic skill. :-)

5:44 PM  
Blogger parcequilfaut said...

parce here, at super secret remote Artist hideout (sans Artist, mournfully), sending all the love in the world to the Evil one, and missing my own babies, who I will be home to tonight.

Fie on younger brothers who don't clean up. FIE! Don't make us have to break you out the big house.

10:10 PM  

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home