you're welcome because now I have some questions. Don't worry I won't burden you with my vane insatiable pilgrimage for the meaning of life.
Why is the grocery store, here in Euless TX, selling fireworks right now? Also, it's 39 feels like 33 degrees yet the ice cream truck, which was blaring happy birthday, just drove around the neighborhood. I really don't know about these suckas in the south. Usually fireworks and ice cream trucks all point to July. I'm just sayin'. Moving on…
Please let me begin by saying when loading your groceries onto the conveyor at your local grocery store…YOU are the one who's supposed to put the fucking plastic divider down for the person in line behind you. Got it? What the fuck? A little etiquitte would be nice Tex. ALSO, if you are not standing in the lane and are at least 5 feet out of it and there is nobody else occupying that lane…you are NOT in line. Asshole. Lastly, pay attention bitch. Put all of my shit in the bag, I really wanted that piece of cheesecake. You have one job, ring the shit and put it in the goddamn bag. Is it that hard? Just checking. Clearly, I'm over it.
My inner Kimland silence has just been broken by the ridiculous clatter of yet another human being with a highly questionable purpose. She said, "OK, so at 7 o'clock you have to call this number, don't worry it's free!" Though I doubt she has voted since her younger years of voting for Pee Wee Herman as a write in, her cacaphonous din of pleas to all of our fellow co-workers to vote on "dancing with the stars" really made me think.
Is Drew Lachey really a star? Is Heather Mills really a star? Joey McCintyre? Leeza Gibbons? If this is the case, our societal sense of celebrity is really slipping. Seriously, that shit is boring. If we're going to have "Dancing with the stars," let's start with some stars and really make killer combos. I mean Heather mills has one leg. They should have paired her with Kevin Spacey's character on Usual Suspects with the limp OR, even though his "celebrity" merely matches all of the aforementioned people, Josh Blue, the guy with the arm braces (like Timmy has on South Park) who won last comic standing. And why did he win "last coming standing?" We know why! because he's handicapped that's why! You know when you saw that guy the same heart strings got pulled that do when you see a retarded person trying to eat a popsicle. Don't lie.
More good match ups for the show…You want star power and chemistry! Yao Ming/Dolly Parton, Perez Hilton/Ann Coulter, Britney Spears/Brian Wilson, Michael Jackson/Jessie Jackson….are you feeling me people? I can't talk about this shit anymore. I've only seen a few minutes of one show and that song will remain the same.
Also today, there was again another moment where I felt I was staring directly into a Panavision camera in an episode of the office. I needed to have a conversation with someone who has the personality of Michael on the office. The thing is, Michael is awesome x's ten compared to this guy. I mean like Miles Davis.
It should have been 5 minutes and turned into 15. I looked like this the whole time.
This man still talks about his daughter, whom he calls princess, as if she were a newborn. She's 17. When Ohio St. played Michigan on 10/20 she helped him paint his office window with Ohio St. cheer. He erased the message after the game except for this part. Blaring out into the office, with no shame.*On 12/28 it was all erased except for his daughters name. Apparently he is also a closet eater…have you heard of this?? He won't eat in front of people, he hides in closets or other dark spaces and stuffs his face then comes out. I can't even touch this one. I don't have the time or should I say you, my lovely readers, don't.
Work is going great, who knew I could be this into the forklift and forklift accessories industry. Look at me now though….what have I become? No office decorated with signed memorabilia littered with art and cd's…now spreadsheets and calculators and dork ass professional attire. I feel so dirty.
Moving on. I was awaken the other morning by the man living in my attic. I have been convinced of this man for some time. I watch a lot of "forensic files" etc. and I know all about a stalker. I'm not exactly sure who would stalk me. I mean, I am known for over tipping but other than that I got nothing. I told Amanda (who I passed on the way to work this morning)
about this months ago and she ignored it. Probably because she also thinks I'm a hypochondriac. (it's gonna be a BIG "in your face" for me when I have a case of the cancer)
Well, 2 nights ago at 4AM I woke up to that motherfucker crawling around my ceiling. I then strode through my house in the nude with my Chinese walking stick I got from the dollar store. Sure, it might break if you smack someone with it but I'm sure it can do some Serious damage to the eyes. The eyes ARE the groin of the face afterall. Anyway, I told my friend Jill at work (who I affectionately call Jillbilly and who also had me over on Thanksgiving for my first redneck Thansgiving!) and she said, it's probably a squirrel or a raccoon. I scoffed at the idea. Squirrel is for eatin' and how the hell would the raccoon get in the ceiling. (see I said that with twang)
Now, Jillbilly refers to twang as lemon that hits that spot in the back of your jaw. I always understood it as another word for country however, I found this! Pickles bitch. Pickles.
I was outside about an hour ago…on the phone with Amanda
when I noticed a cat scaling down the tree. Mind you, I live on the third floor...that shit was climbing from heaven! A cat. Until he looked at me and he was wearing a burglar's mask like the kind you see on the Cookie Crook.
He slinked down the tree and my neighbor started pouring beer off of his balcony at him. Great idea. A drunk raccoon ready to scratch my fucking face off. Now I am ascared I will have nightmares of this thing and coming home and he's smoking a cigar then he scratches my face off and says in raccoon "I've been waiting for you! Muuuaahahahahahaha!" I'm doomed.
Tonight was a very special night for me too in another way. A "Charlie Brown Christmas" was on. I've always adored this. I'm not a Christmas fan, especially the music. The only Christmas music I CAN stomach is the CB Christmas album by vince guaraldi and that chrismas song by the waitresses. Here's a clip
Song
OH, and my very own, "another Christmas I could miss." (I know that's kind of cheating) You can check it here
A Christmas I Could Miss
From the very opening lines it gripped my little black grinch heart made of demon with "I just don't understand Christmas I guess. I like getting presents and sending Christmas cards and decorating trees and all that, but I'm still not happy. I always end up feeling depressed." Marinate in that. Breathe it in. Charlie Brown.
So I went to the doctor again last week for one of my knees. In a sheer stroke of superpower, I catapulted out of control in my fancy rolling deskchair and into the edge of my desk with a direct hit to the patella. I happened to have Ronnie (who willingly and lovingly wears these dirty pants to work)
in my cube at the time chatting. The pain was overwhelming, I was laughing funny bone style but kind of started to cry too and when EVVVVVEntually asked if I was ok, my answer was "no." No with a smile. Little history…Kim+Soccer/Basketball= bad knees. Anyway, this happened 3 weeks ago, not getting better. I don't know if this is due to getting older or my expedient weight gain.
Gaffney, pictured below in the pink, called me a bit ago to let me know that she had gone to the doctor and turns out she, years ago, listed me as her emergency contact. Though flattered I thought, well…now I live 1500 miles away. When I didn't, if there was an accident, they would have tried to call me and the gurney next to her would have started ringing. Way to go Lauren, your parents live 30 minutes from you.
In the spirit of sisterhood I decided to return the favor. See below, my designation of emergency notification now goes to….drum roll please! Lauren Gaffney. Congrats. We made it through a night at the Grammy's together but Quentin Tarantino can't even help us now.
I recently got food poisoning for the first time…for real. I mean sure, I've used it several times to get out of work but holy shit. It's the worst. I will never eat little caesar's $5 hot and ready's again and ESPECIALLY no buttery garlic dipping sauce. Dear diabetes! I thought I was going to die. It made me rethink that I live alone and how do I give myself the heimlick when I'm choking on vomit?
My good friend Troy Wilson made a trip all the way from little LA to give me a visit in October. What fun! A couple of the things we ended up doing were going to the Stars game and watching the Cowboys play the Vikings!(where the clan made a definite presence)
As you can see, the clan was also in full swing during the halftime show. I want to say it was uncomfortable but the people around us made us feel right at home here in TX. NOW, the hockey game…need I say more….Dallas? the one disappointment here was JR Ewing driving a crocs zamboni! Booooooooooo! If you don't know my stance on crocs please see the opening of my last blog. Thank you.
Through the time that's passed recently I have learned a few things. Fireworks and ice cream make a delicious winter combination here in ol' Texas and I will be the next ninja warrior. I am not interesting enough to be stalked by anything other than a hungry animal and some things never change, I really am Charlie Brown. End scene and roll "Soul Glow" from the movie "Coming to America." Love, Kim
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