Mrs Mustache

This is how I spend my goddamned Fridays…

I’m downstairs, watching Museum Secrets, not a care in the world and I keep smelling a gross, poop smell. So I follow my nose up the stairs, through the bedroom and into the closet.

FUCK

YOU

CATS

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One of the cats pooped in my laundry basket. It’s like they were trying to say “YOU HAVEN’T FOLDED THIS STUFF YET!?!”

WELL, JOKES ON YOU, ASSHOLES! That was the dirty laundry basket!

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I’m yelling at them while Matt cleans it up and they just keep looking at me like “Hey, don’t you have some poop you should be cleaning up?”

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Free cats to mildly soiled hobo.

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On the upside, the dog is trying to pretend she is really cute, like “Remember that time I ate the couch? It still isn’t as bad as shitting on your new silk shirt.”

Tags: kittehs, make my day

So after having 5 different lasers shot in to eyes on Friday I’ll hopefully have some news soon about why I’m going blind. I’m going for more tests next week and this time it’d be nice if all my eyelashes didn’t fall out. I did get a super cool picture of my retina:

To make up for last years horrible-apocalypse flu-pink eye-friend borrows our car and totals it- birthday there was a lot of money riding on this year making up for both of them. And oh boy did it ever deliver.

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Not only did Matt get me a Batman Snuggie

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But he also finally, FINALLY agreed to dress up like a zombie with me and go look like an idiot in public. Do you want to know how many people we traumatized? I hope a lot. Because our costumes were amazing. We went French Revolution zombies/ Marie Antoinette and Napoleon.

I cobbled together a collection of photos that people took from it, we didn’t get any because we were so covered in fake blood and slime there are still gross brain patched dried to the cars upholstery. I had this really grody wad of slime I played with the who time that people thought was ground meat but it was actually Metamucil mixed with fake blood. You should have seen the looks every time I ate some of it.

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 As you can see we looked pretty fucking rad in out costumes. They were such a huge hit and it was tons of fun, but I don’t think we would do it again because I was so gross and uncomfortable. I just wanted someone to take pity on me and hose me off.

You know how the saying goes though. The couple that eats brains together, stays together.

Tags: I fucking love you, why I married him, zombies

I had to give up my car a couple of months ago. This is the conversation with Matt just after when I had some serious sad face going on about it. It was a pretty amazing car.

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Matt : “You know what, I’m just going to buy you a pony. His name will be Sprinkles.”

Me: “Can he be white so I can paint rainbow polka dots on him?”

Matt: “Obviously. Why else would his name be Sprinkles? Also, you have to put racing stripes on him because everyone knows that racing stripes make things go faster. They add 5 horse power, which is a lot when you only started out with one little pony. The only problem is that then you have 5 extra horses worth of poop to clean up but that’s the price you pay for speed.”

Me: “But the he would poop out awesome things like brownies or fudge. OR SKITTLES! He would fart skittles and every time you ate one a leprechaun would magically appear and scream TASTE THE RAINBOW while staring at you with his with his beady, judging eyes. Then you feel all bad because clearing human farts don’t do anything for society except make riding the bus really uncomfortable.”

Matt: “Wow, I’m never riding the bus again…”

SPOILERS: This has absolutely no funny in it, feel free to skip this.

 

My computer is an asshole and decided to restart just as I finished writing this post, which is actually probably really good since it was long and sad and had a lot of sappy woe is me stuff and who needs to hear all about that.

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It’s been 8 months, or longer, since I’ve written here. Things have been a weird.

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I became an accountant, it gives me nightmares. Not cool. I think it makes me less funny. That’s probably debatable to all the people who laugh at me.

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I started having some problems at work, driving, at home. Went to a doctor and it turns out I am rapidly going blind and there is nothing they can do. So that sucks. A lot.

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But I’ve decided enough is enough and I am tired of being sad. I could still big time use a hug though. A really really big hug.

 

So as best as I can be, I’m back. I’m not promising anything but I’m sure I have some funny stuff saved up from the last who knows how long.

 

 

 

 

I know that I shouldn’t be putting this out there for you to judge because the internet is full of angry alpacas who are all like WHY CAN’T WE OPEN JARS!?! but I need you to settle a bet/ fulfill my need for validation.

I am not a crazy cat lady.

That’s not to say I don’t own a cat or anything. I have a cat. OK, there are two cats, but that’s ALL THE CATS. I just think cats are fucking great. It’s not even a thing. But I have my mom’s voice from lunch ringing in my ears while she chants “CAT LADY! CAT LADY!” while pointing at me. God.

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This morning I’m standing in the kitchen in my pyjamas cutting up lemons and daydreaming out the window when I see a cat running up the road. Then a couple seconds later I see the mean cat of the neighborhood  run past, and is actually chasing the first cat.

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So I think “Aw, HELL no!” and I go running down the street after these two cats.

By this point they’ve gotten a block up the street and the mean cat has cornered the first cat under a car. I come puffing up and start shooing the mean cat back down the steet (picture crouching and shooing hands) when I look down and realize…

I’ve just gone sprinting down the street, leaving my door *wide* open…

I’m shooing a *strange* cat home…

While wearing my pyjamas…

Carrying a lemon in each hand

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Actually, you know what? Maybe you should agree with my Mom. What the hell, me?

Tags: don't tell anyone, i am not a crazy person, nobody should talk to me