I just spent five minutes trying to determine if a piece of debris on my desk was the product of vigorous pencil erasing or the carcass of a dead bug. I am so ready to be on vacation from work until Tuesday.

P.S. it was scraping from the pencil eraser.


add this one to my list of abilities

I came home Monday night from work to find a horrific sight. There was garbage everywhere. In the kitchen. Under the dining room table. In the hallway. In the living room. Behind the sofa. By the fireplace. Pretty much everywhere downstairs, with the exception of the laundry room, bathroom, and roommate's cave. Where was the dog? The only one who could've knocked the lid off the trash can and tipped it over? Nowhere to be found.

I was trying to keep my shit together while looking for the dog. She never does this, with the exception of that one time this winter, which I blame on stir-craziness from the never ending snow and iciness. I finally found her upstairs in the den hiding behind the futon. Or rather, wedged halfway beneath the futon. She has never hidden from me before. She knew she had done a very, very bad thing. She always knows when she has been naughty, and even if the man nor I know of said naughty behavior, we can read it from her body language and she gives herself away every time. That bitch (literally) has no poker face.

Note: Neither the man nor I have ever, ever lifted a finger to the dog and she has no fear of any sort of physical abuse. She does, however, hate the disappointment that we exude and cowers at the thought. She cowers as we open the door to find her on the sofa (where she shouldn't be). She cowers as we walk up the stairs and find her eating cat food, etc. She's like I was in school, so afraid of the disappointment from my parents for untoward behavior that I rarely did anything considered "wrong."

So, I coaxed the dog out from behind the futon, led her downstairs and was about to take her outside to keep with the daily routine of letting her relieve herself. Since there was trash all over the house, she could obviously see what she had done. Apparently she was quite frightened of the tone in my voice (aka borderline hysteria and pissed-offedness) as I instructed her to "make potty outside now." This is an instruction that I give her multiple times per day.

Today was different. Today, when she was so eager to redeem herself. Today, on garbage orgy day, she cowered as we walked to the door and upon being surrounded by the trash or her binge, she pissed on the floor. Just a little, but still, she PISSED ON THE FLOOR. In her 7+ years of existence, she has never pissed on the floor. She must have missed the part where I said "potty OUTSIDE." The man seems to think that since the dog has never heard me so pissed off before, the utterance of that simple command caused her to lose it.

I let her outside, where she did the rest of her pissing, and in the meantime cleaned up the garbage and the piss (did I mention that she pissed on the floor?). As I picked up trash, I looked through everything to make sure there was no evidence of ingestibles that would hurt her, and upon finding none of those items, tried to compose myself again before letting the dog back in the house. Let's just say that cleaning up piss doesn't create a sense of zen for me.

Side note: The slovenly roommate eats fast food nearly everyday and leaves remnants of those meals in the garbage can (not in the compost, where they should be). These nasty tidbits must have sent the dog into a frenzy, and drunk with lust for scraps, she destroyed the sanctity of good manners, general hygiene, and overall not eating garbage in the house I just fucking cleaned the day before.

So, to sum up the event, the dog went on a day-long garbage bender and then was so embarrassed and/or guilty that she proceeded to piss on the floor under my disappointed gaze. And yet I am the one who ended up feeling bad. My tone alone is enough to cause incontinence. I wonder if that should be listed on my resume as a skill or an accomplishment.


is there an eco in here?

I've been working diligently to both beautify my surroundings at home and get rid of some junk lying around in an eco-friendly way. Also, I'm sure I mentioned that I'm into sustainability lately, which is great because I am poor. It is easier to admit that I "up-cycle" because it is good for keeping things out of the landfill, but that is just a bonus. The main thing is that I'm too poor and/or cheap to go out and spend exorbitant amounts of money on sub-par items. Old things really do seem to be of a better quality, I must admit. And I'm not just saying that because I get my jollies from a man 11 years my senior.

But I digress, I've long been a fan of fixing old things rather than spending money and resources on new things. So, long story shorter, I decided to spruce up a horribly disgusting and nasty dining chair I found in one our outbuildings (left by previous tenants whose butts shat out razor blades that seem to have cut open every chair they left). The result of my stress-induced need for calm has been two new chairs for my living quarters.

Below is the dining chair that had been missing a seat and fabric and had an odd smell and all-around was ass-nasty. I completely tore it apart and made a new seat and back, salvaging only the frame. Say hello to my new desk chair:

The photo is a bit darker than I wanted and there is a piece of ? on the floor that the cat batted into the shot. Oh well. At least I was able to get one picture without Cat Named Jack smelling the chair. Victory!

The other chair is just a side chair and is now in my upstairs den. It too had seen better days and was a lovely shade of mold. I removed all the nasty, painted the frame, and out popped a very comfortable chair. I've decided to go with a black and white fabric to keep things looking crisp...also because I love throwing around color so much that I thought I'd better keep it simple to avoid a constantly acid-trippy feeling when I walk into the room. That, and it isn't comforting to feel like you walked into a bag of skittles.

As you can see, Cat Named Jack makes an appearance in this photo, but at least he isn't smelling the chair. You'll see that he is wearing his Jackson Pinkerton III tie for the occasion.

out and about

I made note of a number of things that had made a particular weekend both pleasant and not-so-fun. Here are some photos to further elaborate on the wonders of the world outside my house.

I noted that the man bought me flowers. Since their relocation, they have been thriving, as you can see below:

These are just a couple of the flowers I planted. If you look closely at the photo, you can see a dandelion seed has found its way into the shot. The dandelions are the man's own personal hell. He is now talking about buying special lawnmower attachments to destroy said dandelions. Here is one of the evil doers:

I'm not a fan of just throwing money into the yard like that. As long as it is green, it's a yard. We don't have neighbors on our "dead end" road. From the road, it looks like lush grass and you don't even notice the dandelions. But the man notices them. And he has vowed to kill them. I think I'm going to have to bet against him on this one. Also, I see that I may be hypocritical, spending money on flowers, but flowers are different and and should be considered investments into my happiness. Just don't give me a bouquet, I'd prefer them alive and potted.

The last thing I mentioned in my list was that a hot air balloon made its way over our yard and nearly touched down in the field behind the house. Here's my proof:

After about a minute of trying really hard to hold her shit together, the dog was convinced that the world was coming to an end and sat shivering in the garage until I made a mad dash with her into the house, away from whatever the fuck she thought was falling from the sky to destroy us all. At least I got some good photos to commemorate the event.



I once again have taken Friday and Monday off from work. Yay! However, 8 hours of the weekend will be spent in the car, due to the fact that I'm going to visit my parents and other members of my extended family. It will be the first time I've seen anyone since Christmas. When was Christmas? Over 5 months ago? Oh yeah, I'm an awful daughter. I only live 4 hours away and I haven't been home in over 5 months. But I do talk to my folks multiple times per week, shouldn't that make it all better? The answer is no. Another 'but.' But...I am happy to report that I will not only be visiting them this weekend, but also once in June and once in August. Then, I will likely see them again for the baptism of my new nephew. See, I just stockpile my visits and then rapid-fire them out in a three-month period. Maybe I'm not so bad...or maybe I'm overcompensating...hard to say which.

Anyway, you know you've been gone way too long when your parents e-mail you multiple times per day to confirm that you are, in fact, still coming to visit. Then they tell their friends and neighbors about the magical homecoming of their wonderful only daughter whom they haven't seen in ages. And then they bribe you with promises of "treats" and fun-filled days of various hometown activities so you'll want to return again and again...and maybe will procreate so they can get their paws on some more grandbabies. Because, those AARP people, they feed off babies. I will not give in to their demands, however, and plan to exit this life with my lady bits in tact.

Moving on. I'm quite excited about visiting. It has been too long since I've been "home." (Thank you gas prices, for keeping me from the people who spawned me and for forcing me to put more charges on the credit card I thought I wouldn't need to use anymore.) I will be bringing more of my stuff and things and objects home with me. And hopefully a couple things that I can pilfer from my parents and then rejuvenate to make me feel like I am not poor and that I have "new" things.

When I return I will be posting photos and some rapid-fire, stockpiled posts detailing my projects and the various goings-on in my not-so-exciting life. Why? Because that's how I roll. I save up posts and visits and whatnot and when you least expect it...WHAM, BANG, POW...you are overcome with the glory that is the life of Trish. And you, in return, will pretend that I am fabulously amazing and delightful. Why? Because I already think you are fabulous and amazing and delightful. What a fun interchange it will be.


the end of the fucking world

Why doesn't anyone seem to care that Clay Aiken is procreating? I have this nightmare where Clay Aiken's baby and a baby produced by Josh Groban get together, mate, and create a musical horror that brings the world to its knees...and not in a good way. This nightmare is the result of this.


things that made this weekend good and/or bad

  1. The man and I had plans for Friday as we would both be home early from work...I was not done early...he was not done early = bad
  2. At approximately 6:00 pm Friday, I started having severe stomach pains for no apparent reason. No nausea, no indigestion, just pain. I couldn't quite stand up straight without the pain causing beads of sweat to build up on my forehead. The pain is still there, but is now bearable. Overall, unidentified stomach pain = bad
  3. I finally watched Chicken Little, which happened to be on Disney channel as I was curled into a ball on the sofa (due to the abdominal discomfort). It was a cute movie = good
  4. One of the man's old friends from high school decided to call drunk at 3:00 am Saturday morning while the man was out fishing and I was home alone, sick, and barely able to sleep. Plus, he couldn't understand who I was and why I was answering the phone at the man's house. What I should have said: "Dumbass, I fucking live here and get off the damned phone before I reach through it and pull your scrotum up over your face and tuck it into your eyelids." I wanted to say that, but I didn't = bad
  5. Saturday morning we drove to the nursery and picked up flowers for my flowerbeds, all of which were purchased by the man so I couldn't say that he never buys me flowers = good
  6. I felt somewhat well enough to go with the man while he fished on Saturday afternoon. I must say that I was quite amazed at his skill. Also, being outside made me feel less like dying = good
  7. Some weird people from Illinois stopped where we were fishing and offered to buy the fish the man had caught. We gave them the fish for free. The man insists he is like Jesus, giving people fish and feeding the masses. I explain that Jesus probably didn't try to feel up his girlfriend for good luck before fishing, and also that two people are not exactly "the masses." Still, it was nice to do a good deed = good
  8. We built a toad house in one of my flowerbeds and actually found a toad to live in it...and he stayed in the house through Sunday afternoon (and might still be there) = good
  9. The roommate managed to stay on the couch for two straight days, making it unbearable to be in the downstairs area of the house, as he kept insisting that my stomach must hurt because I'm pregnant. There is no way that I am pregnant, but he is an asshole. I wanted to tell him that by judging the size of his expanding man-breasts and gut, he looks more pregnant than I. I didn't share this observation, though I wanted to = bad
  10. A hot air balloon floated less than 100 feet above the house, which was really cool = good...and bad because the dog was scared out of her mind.