Category Archives: Humor
Jumping spiders and Buddha too!
Thursday at work, I noticed in my peripheral vision ‘something’ on the wall in front of my desk. I glanced up from being very busy and important to see a little spider. Okay. Little is good. Wall is good. Carry on.
He was industrious because not long after that my peripheral radar alerted me of an intruder on my desk. I laid eyes on him and decided it was time he went outside.
You may be thinking now that I am ‘bug brave’. I am not. I don’t do bugs. But I can’t just kill one either. So I do bugs when I have to. Even scorpions in the Summer get caught or vacuumed up in the bagless machine and placed outside.
Yes, my blood pressure rises to an unhealthy level, yes I have nightmares, yes I’m unreasonably itchy for hours afterward in some psychosomatic state – whilst my eyes dart around the room incase it was just one of one hundred, but I really do try not to kill them
Back to spider.
So I’ve decided he’s going out. (For all intents and purposes, it’s a ‘he’ apparently).
I get a slice of paper and put it in his path. Surely he’ll waltz right onto it and I’ll simply carry him out to the leafy bush outside.
He didn’t know how to waltz. But he had leaping down!
This is the part where I’m squealing like a little girl. Audibly.
A lot louder in my head – trust me, but my vocalizations finally get the attention of the loan officer at the desk across the room.
I explain that no conventional method of capture is going to work for this guy. “Help me! It jumps!” might have been the actual verbiage I used.
He meandered over. “Where is it?”
Good question – I’d taken my eyes off of it. Peripheral Powers Activate!
I focused in and there – on my desk – was the spider taking the last few steps to hide under the shadow of my shut-up Buddha. You remember him?
So he’s at the base of Buddha’s rock. Probably meditating on how much higher he could leap at me should I go through with my attempts of relocation. (The shut-up Buddha isn’t working by the way, I bite my tongue and look at him, but unedited words still fall out of my mouth all day long).
“Get an envelope” the loan officer says. Oooo! Good idea. Yeah – we can encase him safely for the trip!
Goes off without a hitch.
I scoop up the envelope.
“Don’t squish it”, he says – as I close the flap gently, just in case. No! I didn’t Close it close it – just put it down so there was no escape route.
Outside I go with him.
There. He’s happy. He’s free. I’m happy (a little itchy and looking around the room, but happy).
Back to work we go.
Fast forward to Friday.
Alone in the office – peripheral alarm starts to bleat out a warning.
What the heck?!?!
On my wall – a jumping spider.
I’m fairly certain the other guy didn’t find his way back in – so as I was telling my friend Betty, we’re left with the only reasonable, non-alarmist, sane answer – Jumping Spider Infestation!!!
(Okay, probably there might be a little family. But I’m sticking with infestation).
I emailed the loan officer something that could have passed for a telegram SOS.
“Help! Spider! Infestation! Should close office!”
He responded sometime later that yes, sounded like immediate closure was called for.
Followed by a damn winky emoticon. Pfft. Those ‘winky’ things mean someone is kidding right? I was left with the real danger.
I made it unscathed through the day. And this morning – my Betty puts this horror on my Facebook page.
It’s over four minutes long, you won’t need to watch for that long to be itchy and darty eyed the rest of the day.
Happy Spider! Saturday!
Picking up my basket
Last couple of days have been kitten-on-crack crazy!
To put it plainly, I dropped my basket. (If you’ve read Divine Secrets of the Ya–Ya Sisterhood you know what I mean by that).
The rift between my son and I, over the most ridiculous matter – fed itself with silence and grew. And grew. And grew.
Yesterday morning had me inelegantly dropping a toaster strudel and it’s plate onto his bed (I’m SO mature) and lead to him leaving without a hug or a goodbye.
So I spent yesterday at work in a daze. Physically ill. A little crying jag at my desk.
My last blog post is staying. It’s exactly how I felt at the time. Drama Queen sash please. And a little crown too?
This parenting stuff is HARD! I would literally give my life for this human that has the ability to mortally wound me with one cutting look.
Bonkers. Teddy Bonkers!
I came home to a boy behind closed-door again. I was so … sad. I crossed the line in the sand (his threshold) and went in.
I’ll spare you and my son all the in-between bits – but at one point I was told (well, technically he wasn’t talking to me, so I was IM’d) the sentence that I had made it almost 18 years without hearing. “I’ll move out as soon as I can”.
Now, I don’t want to stereotype, but I imagine most parents upon hearing that would chuckle to themselves and wish their offspring ‘good luck’, while knowing deep down their birds were not going to actually leap from the nest.
Not me.
Nope.
That sentence shot through me like a bullet. My gut suddenly had a brick placed in it. My eyes welled up and I furiously typed back in response to my sons words. (Yeah, we’ve really come to that. Typing to each other).
Fast forward to him cautiously coming out of his room after I fell apart and told him he has never ever, ever been told he had to move out – (man did he play me like a fiddle xbox!) and we mended our bridge.
I hugged him tight – tears streaming down my face, and I’m gulping air like … I’m not sure what gulps air?? You get the picture. As I sobbed “don’t SAY that – don’t ever SAY that” it dawned on me I was wound around his little finger tighter than unbreakable thread. (It’s apparent to me now that I’m going to need to buy a house … with a basement for my 40-year-old. Because whether he wants to take flight or not – I’m clearly not up to it).
The relief at the disappearance of the tension in the air was palpable.
We both joked and laughed. Then his joking got a little cocky. Then a little rude … and I looked at my almost-a-man boy and asked, with wet cheeks and racoon eyes:
“I thought the flu was going around, not asshole?”
Crushin’ on the Candy Saga
I have a new obsession. Told you how flighty I am when it comes to games. My BFF, like OMG, totally got me into Candy Crush on FB.
And to be honest, I’m only blogging about it right now because I’m waiting for a flipping life to restore so I can go back to playing the Candy crack Crush.
Bingo’s out the window. I have Jelly beans and what-not to clear from the ever increasingly difficult boards.
I made my son play the game so he could send me a ‘ticket’ to get to the next series. (You need 3 friends to send you them in order to keep movin’ on). It’s times like these I’m the most grateful I have friends. “God, thank you for my friends, especially the ones that send me lives and tickets for CCS.”
Had a rather intense session that sucked all 5 lives out of me earlier. The trick is this – you don’t lose a life if you can get through the level – but fail … and die you will. Then the little girl in the picture above actually cries!
It’s heartbreaking!
So much pressure!
That’s for making the little candy girl cry!
It has fun sound effects too – crunches and music and, and … when you make an invalid move, there’s a little snorting sound. ^_^
Adorable as all get out.
I told my friend Lisa about that sound when we were discussing the game (gawd, what have our conversations come to?) and she ever so cleverly, as I knew she would – responded with ‘Oh, does it?’. Pffft. She knows. Oh yes, she knows.
Apparently she’s on Squatch level. (Don’t you love that? Whenever Nic and I are watching Finding Bigfoot we giggle whenever they say ‘Squatch’). I’m apparently on some lemonade dragon thingy level.
AND – I do believe a life has been restored so it’s time to wrap this sweet post up. And clearly, (and let’s face it, a little pathetically) due to the nature of this post, I’m obviously not referring to my life.
The blog giveth and the blog taketh away …
“Cool Banner!”
I don’t check my email much – really should get into the habit. But we’ve established I work two jobs, am a single mom and read – a LOT. (6 books since just after Christmas, but that’s another blog).
Anyway. I checked my Debauchery Soup email today and found 2 sidebar emails.
The first was from the owner of Stay Calm Cupcake. I used a photo I had found on Google. It was adorable. A little cupcake with the words ‘Stay Calm Cupcake’ on it. It was hers. Oof.
I have a lot to learn when it comes to what the rules are regarding using pics etc. I figure if they have those watermarks on them, then its hands off. I will be doing my research.
She very politely asked me to take the picture down. I have done that. I apologized and she responded with ‘no worries, great blog’. LOL!
The next email was from a follower of my blog, deWriterMD. She noticed my fuzzy mole rat banner and not only found the original picture (which I probably stole also), but created a non-fuzzy version for me!
Thank you SO much Deb! You can check her blog out at: MetaRead360 Small Press Presents
So I think I’ll touch a little on ‘why the mole rat?’. I have had a fascination with Naked Mole Rats since the 90’s. I seriously adore creatures that the majority find ‘ugly’. So, other than the fact that I love them, I hope my little mole rat represents the following:
- Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
- It’s naked. As I feel when sharing with you. Baring it all. No holds barred.
Fun facts. They’re eusocial mammals. One of a kind! All pitching in with their tasks for their colony’s Queen. Like ants … only, pink and adorable and naked.
I’ll do a whole post on them one day, so I’ll stop there. I know, I know, you’ll be on the edge of your seat until then.
SO – in closing. Hope you like the banner, I know I love it.
I also know my pal and fellow blogger and movie writer over at The Return of the Modern Philosopher is going to hate it. They creep him out.
Saturday afternoon mall tears
**Warning – this is probably going to bore the hell out of readers of the male variety – maybe even the female variety**
No. I wasn’t sad – wasn’t laughing ’til I cried (until after it happened). Here’s what happened.
Nic was invited to the Sadie Hawkins dance. I was feeling restless this morning (after waking up at 6:05 am for crying out loud). I watched some DVR’d shows (the Glee episode being one of them, about Sadie Hawkins by coincidence) – did some dishes – showered, dressed and woke Nic up with ‘Wanna go to the mall?’
Yes. Yes he did want that.
We left the house.
I knew I wanted to get him a shirt for the dance. Was interested at looking for a painting for the living room – And since just after Christmas, after sniffing it at a Kohls, and falling in love with it, I had decided to finally treat myself to DKNY’s Red Delicious perfume.
We’re just across the river from an outlet mall – there’s a perfume shop that sells, get this, PERFUME of all things – at discounted prices.
Off we go.
Fun ensued at the mall – fun always ensues when Nic and I are out and about. I love that about us.
We finally make it to the perfume shop.
No – they don’t have it. Ug. (Kohls hadn’t had it either – and wouldn’t sell me the sample. I also couldn’t find it anywhere else in town).
Ah Red Delicious – you elusive bitch. I’ll share with you the notes:
Champagne, lychee, raspberry, apple, rose, amber, musk and vanilla. (Hungry yet?)
If you’re anything like me – once you’ve set your mind on getting something, you’re not leaving until you get something. And it’s okay if that something isn’t exactly the ‘thing’ you originally intended to get.
So now I’m being catered to by a sales girl with whiffs of this and that on those little rectangles of paper.
I mean, I’m all over the place – “Um, what about that one? Yeah, the original Michael Korrs, NOT the Hollywood one” – “Wow, that’s expensive, never mind – what about the Ysatis?”
Point, Spritz, sniff – nope. Point, Spritz, sniff, nope.
I’m not loyal to one perfume – I love diversity. I don’t have a signature scent per se, but have a few favorites. LOVE Design by Paul Mitchell and Vanderbilt by Gloria Vanderbilt reminds me of one of my favorite scents – violet. (Funny, it doesn’t have any violet in it. But, if you have L’Oreal lipstick at home, sniff that – that’s what Vanderbilt smells like. LOVE it.)
Both are perfumes that when I scoop up an article of clothing that I wore and the smell is still lingering on it – makes me do that closed eyed ‘mmmm’ thing.
ANYWAY.
Nic is now over at the mens counter purchasing his first bottle of ‘real’ cologne and comes over to advise me that if we spend X amount of dollars together, we qualify for a ‘managers special’. Whatever the heck that is – but if something comes with a deal or a free bonus gift – I’m in.
The crying part:
I’m unattended now. Spritzing away. I pick one up and promptly spray it directly into my face. My open eyes – my nostrils, my MOUTH. That’s the tears part. I’m laughing – and Nic returns. Thing is, it smelled pretty good. Didn’t taste good – and sure as hell felt like mace in my eyeballs, but I’ve decided I’m liking Tommy Bahama St. Barts.
Notes: Tequila, Lime, floral notes, sand, guaiac wood and musk. My take on it? Smelled like jelly beans. LOL!
NOW apparently, I have to spend X amount more … I go to a friend from the early 90’s on the discount table. Escape by Calvin Klein
Notes: Camomile, apple, lychee, rose, plum, peach, coriander, mandarin and sandalwood.
Another one on the discount table is (blush) Britney Spears Circus Fantasy.
Notes: Raspberry, apricot, blue peony, lotus, orchid, vanilla, musk and … violet candy!
Done. The sales woman rings us up.
“You know, if you spend $7 more … you can get one of those bags?”
Nic says “You should get that Jelly Bean one!” I’m thinking – I really want that bag.
(For what I have no clue – I don’t GO anywhere. It’s a doctors style medical bag – good for a weekend getaway. I absolutely NEED it at that moment).
Okay add the St. Barts.
Left that shop smelling like a French Whore. (Why do people say that? I’m going to have to Google that).
Notes: Don’t go to the mall for a shirt and a piece of art and maybe a perfume and come home with 3 bottles of perfume, a medicine bag and stinging eyeballs.
Debauchery Soup 