Things I don't like right now

• Designer toilet paper (we just had some with tiny blue snowflakes and snowmen all over it.) Seriously? We all know what we use toilet paper for, right? Does it really need to be festive? And I keep feeling the need to appologize to the snowmen. It just doesn't make me feel very good.
• Crazy Jesus freaks. Listen, I think it's super fantastic that you really, really like the guy, okay? Just please refrain from passing judgement on others in his name. Something tells me that he would not be pleased. And also, you're really creepy.
• Being secretly recorded by your seven-year-old. So, you play your recorder (thinking you're going to be listening to yourself making witty comments and telling fucking hilarious stories) and instead you are being verbally assaulted by the sound of your own yelly voice... telling the seven-year-old how she is perfectly capable of cleaning her room all by herself and, following some seriously annoying whining, proceeding to inform her that you do not have any help while you're stuck taking care of/cleaning up after/doing everything for: every. single. person. IN THIS HOUSE! It was not pretty. Sorry, Moosh! Love ya!
• A gynecologist who is also a stand up comedian. For real. Actually does stand up at comedy clubs. The Gigglin' Gyno (is what I call him.) Actually, I retract this last one as it makes the whole sitting in stirrups scene much more enjoyable when your doctor is saying things like "There's my contact... I've had to wear my glasses for years now and I hate these things!" Thank the dear Lord that he didn't leave his glasses in there!
• Dogs with diarhea and 50mph winds (with 75mph wind gusts) Now granted, this is outdated... I did not like this about a month ago. Now, it's actually kind of amusing when I pretend like it happened to someone else. Here's the scene (as originally written in an email to my mother): If you're ever wondering what happens when someone turns on a gigantic fan at 75 mph while a dog is pooing herself... well, wonder no more. It blows all over the fucking place. It's actually kind of funny now that I'm reading it but not while it was happening (isn't that always the way it is?) Anyway, when we came in the garage (after several scream-filled minutes of diarrhea) I had to wipe her off but all the towels were gone (due to the water in the basement and my husbands use of said towels) and all I had was swiffer refills. So I swiffered my dog. I'm not sure if that constitutes dog abuse but I think it would have been a LOT worse if I'd have left the wet, runny poo all over her body. Did I mention that David had fed the dog "dog jerky?" prior to her bout with the 'rhea? Seriously. God help us.

it's all in the delivery...

Like, for instance... when using the phrase "self deprecating" you must be so very careful with annunciation or one may get the impression that you enjoy pooping on yourself. You've been warned.

How to prove you're NOT a taxi driver

So i get a very official and very scary notice from my insurance company that they will no longer be insuring us due to the fact that

"Your vehicle is used for transportation of passengers for hire."

WTF? (oh, that means What The Fiddle-sticks, dad) I mean, how could that even happen? So, I call our agent and speak with his assistant (who sounds twelve) and find out that "somebody" reported us for using our car as a "taxi". No shit. I was like, "Who accuses some random person of being a taxi driver? What motivates someone to accuse another of this apparent violation of an insurance agreement?" And she was all, "I don't know, why don't I ask *Paul and get back to you." And I replied, "Sounds like a plan." It turns out that our adjustor (from the accident involving the drunk driver plowing into our car parked in the street) said that there were "signs" that our car was a taxi. When I asked if he meant actual, physical signage, as in a display used to identify or advertise a place of business or a product (such as a taxi service) or something material or external that stands for or signifies something (such as a taxi service) she said she wasn't sure which he meant but would I please drive the car over so she could take a look "just to be sure." The bloody hell? Theoretically, couldn't I simply remove the "signs" (whatever they may be) of my taxi service prior to running my car over? Let me clarify that I am not, in fact, a taxi driver. I'm just sayin'. I brought it to her this morning and in her twelve-year-old expert opinion, it turns out that I am not a taxi driver. Whew! I ought to report them to someone but I just don't have the time (or really the inclination) to do that. So, I'm just letting you all know that there are people out there who will wantonly spread the rumor that a person is a taxi driver. Sure, it began with me but the real question is who is next? Who is next, indeed.

*names have been changed to protect the idiots innocent.

Ninja Cat...