Category Archives: I’m a dumbass

Notsomuch itsy or bitsy.

So this past weekend Johnny and I decided to retreat to our cabin at the lake for some much needed rest and downtime. We packed up our bags, books and booze and off we went. I couldn’t wait to sit on the porch with a cocktail and watch the sun set over the sleepy little cove. You long time readers may remember that cabin is where we spent most of our time when we dated and it was also the location of our wedding, five years ago. It’s a very special little place to us and holds so many happy memories. A weekend spent down there recharges your batteries and is good for the soul.

Usually.

It was Friday evening after supper and we decided we’d listen to some tunes and play a board game. “Gimme a sec!” I said as I bopped into the bathroom. As usual I lowered my pants and sat on the commode. As I was doing my business I felt something brush against my hair on the right side of my head. Then I felt a slight pressure on my head. My knee jerk reaction was to throw my head forward and bat at my hair with my right hand. I heard a faint thud on the carpet in front of me and looked down and saw this between my feet.

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WHAT. THE .HOLY. HELL. IS. THAT.

I froze in sheer terror and my pee stopped in mid-stream and I screamed for Johnny with all the capacity my lungs had. Now I am normally not terrified of spiders and roaches and things but this thing could walk on a fucking leash, I kid you not. As I heard Johnny coming down the hall I threw myself forward and off the toilet. I would like to say I wiped myself and pulled up my pants but sadly I did not. As he came around the corner it was all I could do to scream and frantically point downward at it. Guys, it was HAIRY. In the dimly lit bathroom (it’s a wood paneled cabin) and a somewhat fuzzy head (I’d been cocktailing) and I could clearly see how hairy it was. “GET IT GET IT GET IT KILL IT GET IT JOHNNY GEEEEEETTTTT ITTTTT”!

“HOLY SHIT!” yelled Johnny as he finally realized what he was seeing. I think my standing there screaming with my pants around my ankles threw him for a second. Again we’d been doing some porch drinking so our reflexes and thought processes weren’t ninja-like. Johnny quickly looked about the bathroom for something to whack it with. There was no grabbing some toilet paper and scooping it up. Hell, you’d draw back a nub. This is where it gets kinda silly. Johnny was going to do some work on our bathroom ceiling while we were there so he had his tools on the bathroom sink. Naturally, he grabbed this.

saw

Because why wouldn’t you grab a rusty old hand saw to kill a freak spider the size of your face?!? I think I *may* have called him a @*&*(%#@ retard at this point. He starts whacking up and down at the spider with the saw sideways which is completely ineffective as you can imagine. The spider takes off for behind the toilet. NOW I am 100% horrified because the thought of it getting away hadn’t even occured to me. The carpet is brown, the walls and molding are brown and the gigantic satanic spider is also indeed brown. This made it increasingly difficult as it retreated further away. I finally had the presence of mind to pull up my pants and run into the kitchen for a flashlight. I got the spider in the spotlight and kept screaming at Johnny to “KILL IT! GET IT! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU? ARE YOU BLIND? IT’S RIGHT THERE! I’M STAYING AT A HOTEL IF THAT FUCKING THING GETS AWAY”. Just then the rusty saw came down atop the spider and Johnny smooshed it with all his might, and continued flapping the blade down upon it. Its legs curled in around itself but it was still bigger than a golf ball.

“Jesus” said Johnny as he watched the last leg stop quivering. “I’m sweating”. My mouth was still agape in horror. “Did it jump on me? Did it fall? WHY WAS IT ON MY HEAD?!? We still don’t know. What I do know is that shit will sober you right up. We stayed the rest of the weekend but my bathroom behavior has somewhat changed. I now kick in the door karate style and turn on every single light and scour the place before sitting on the thunderbucket.

When we got home yesterday I googled large spiders in the South. Turns out this fellow is called a Wolf spider, and they are often mistaken for Tarantulas. Here’s a little tidbit from the online source.

Signs of a Wolf Spider Infestation

Sightings of wolf spiders are the main sign of their activity. (REALLY?!? YOU DON’T SAY.)

More Information

Although their reputation would lead one to believe otherwise, the bite of the wolf spider is not a significant medical threat to the average adult. Wolf spiders typically do not bite unless threatened or provoked. In most cases the wolf spider will first retreat or rear up on its legs, exposing its large fangs. (Did you just pass the F out when you read that last sentence because seriously? I almost did and I’ll tell you something else, if that thing had reared up on its legs there would have been a lot more than pee running down mine). *shudder*

Johnny was telling this escapade to his Mother because of course it’s HI-LARIOUS to everyone whose head the spider wasn’t actually on and he was trying to tell her how big it was and he kept saying it was the size of a dinner plate. It turns out that’s exactly the correct description. I submit to you a little piece I like to call Spider from Hell on Dinnerware.

wolf-spider-2

Sweet dreams.

Death by Shapewear

Alright y’all.   As you may have read eons ago I’m making 2013 THE YEAR for my corrupted ass to get fit and healthy.  So, after a few false starts I’m full steam ahead with a healthy diet and daily exercise plan.  There’s just one caveat.  Recently I ventured out to do a little spring wardrobe shopping.  Now, mind you, I know I’m going to plummet in size shortly so I didn’t really want to spend a ton of money on size 12 clothing when we all know I’ll be a size 8 shortly…well maybe a 10, but you get the point.  I decided to invest in a little shapewear during the interim.  Just a little something to keep my jiggly bits from doing just that.  You know, while I wait for them to become ABS OF STEEL.

I picked a camisole looking piece that seemed like the right choice.  My butt and thighs are fine, it’s just my poochy belly so I thought this seemed like a good place to start.  I grabbed a dressing room and decided to give is a whirl.  Now mind you, this thing is supposed to be tight so I picked a smaller size than I normally would because that’s the whole point, right?

Well.

I pulled the thing on over my head and started putting my arms through it while trying to pull it down over my boobs/belly.  Notsomuch.  This thing was like a sausage casing. It was so damn tight I could barely pull my elbows down around my head.  My arms were kind of stuck up in the air with the piece wrapped around my head and neck.  This didn’t seem right.  I fought with it a little more and got it down under my chin and around my middle.  I immediately realized that this thing was waaaaaaaaaay too small.  No biggie, I thought, I’ll take it off and go back out and make another selection.

It wasn’t that easy.  As soon as I tried to lift it back over my head I realized I was in trouble.  This thing was wrapped around me like a starved Boa Constrictor.  I heaved and pulled and stretched, all to no avail.  By now I had one boob up under my chin and one pointing due south towards my belly.  The more I struggled with it the more panicky I got.  I was grunting and groaning and starting to hyperventilate.  My eyes were bulging out of my head.  My hair was flying around with static electricity and I could feel the perspiration forming on my top lip.  My heart beat quickened at the thought that they just may have to call the Fire Department to cut me out of this evil garment.  I had to sit down on the little bench in the dressing room to catch my breath.  It was half on and half off but it had me in a death grip.  As I flailed about the room some more the tag landed square in front of my face where the instructions read that I was supposed to step into this thing feet first, like a bathing suit and take it off the same damn way.  Evidently it was not to go over your head in the first place.   This little tidbit would have been good to know fifteen minutes ago.

I finally wriggled free after what seemed like an eternity.  As I huffed and puffed and put my shirt back on I realized that anything has got to be easier than that, including exercise.  I left the mangled thing on the bench, all tangled up and stained with my deodorant.  Serves it right.  You know how you tap the biscuits in the can on your counter top and the dough puffs out through cardboard creases?   That’s exactly how I looked.

Tonight’s dinner?  Salad with a side of salad and salad for dessert.  Jesus.

CHIT CHAT PADDYWHACK

EQUAL OPPORTUNITY OFFENDER

Yesterday I was in line at Kroger and this kind of cute young guy was standing behind me while putting his groceries up on the belt.   I noticed he had a wonky ear and tried hard not to stare but it was difficult because it looked like it had been melted.  You know how when a candle kind of caves in and drips down around itself?  Like that.  Naturally I was mesmermized and I was staring intently at it wondering if it was a birth defect or the result of an accident and thinking if he could hear through it and all of that and of course he noticed me staring and said “how ya doing”? to which I LOUDLY replied,  “IT’S REALLY  NOT A PROBLEM”!

Good grief.  Remember the flipper situation from a few years ago?  I am clearly the one with the problem.

QUIT SCARING  SERVICE WORKERS THAT YOU DON’T REALLY KNOW

I was walking to the bank the other day and ran into the gal that delivers packages to our office.  She told me that she had just been broken up with, via text message.  She has pink hair.

Me:  What?  That’s bullshit.  You’re not going to stand for that, are you?
Delivery girl:  Um, I guess I need to go by there after work and pick up my stuff.

Me:  No way.  That’s unacceptable.  You text his lame ass back and tell him that this is certainly NOT over.  You tell him that you deserve a lot more respect than that, didn’t you see that episode of Sex in the City when Burger breaks up with Carrie on a Post-it note?!?   Carrie at least went out drinking with her friends and smoked a doobie!   This is just as bad or maybe worse because at least Burger wrote something down and didn’t just type out “WE R DUN” or some shit and hit “send”!  I’m not saying you have to go all “Burning Bed” on his ass but c’mon, that’s one cowardly move and you know it and you totally deserve better than that.

Delivery Girl:  I’m just sad and I don’t know what you’re talking about.

IF HE WASN’T ALREADY IN JAIL THE FASHION POLICE WOULD HAVE ARRESTED HIM

I was coming out of the Courthouse earlier this week for work and grabbed the 4th floor elevator down in search of lunch and a walk around downtown.  Just as the door was shutting a hand stopped it and in walked what appeared to be an attorney with an inmate.  The inmate was a towering black dude wearing a dirty grey jumpsuit and handcuffs.  I heard clanking and looked down to see shackles and chains around his ankles.  He was also wearing neon orange Crocs.  With socks.

I looked at the inmate and smiled.  The attorney had a face like an onion and appeared to be no fun whatsovever.

Me:  I bet wearing those Crocs are worse than wearing those shackles.

Inmate:  *laughing* Girl, you know it.

Me:  Nothing says jail like plastic footwear!

Inmate:  Right?

Me:  Well, it could always be worse.

Inmate:  I don’t know …I’m basically wearing a snuggie out in public.

Me:  Yeah, your outfit doesn’t exactly say “my life is right on track”!

Inmate:  Shit.

The attorney then promptly escorted my friend off of the elevator while giving me a dirty scowl.  I wished my buddy good luck and he turned back to me and winked.  All in a day’s work.

 

Open mouth, insert foot, hit “send”.

Well, it finally happened, and let’s be honest, it was bound to happen eventually. Really, it was probably over due.

For the first time in my life I sent a reply to an email thinking I was soley responding to a personal friend when in reality, it went to an entire list serv.

I’ll start at the beginning.

Last week I was at work and up to my pits and tits with invoicing.  I took a break at lunch and decided to check my personal email and I saw that a  friend of mine had sent me
an email and the subject line was for a charity bike ride for Diabetes.  It just read “are you ready to ride”!?  I immediately laughed because she and I participated in this God-awful ride last year and I had to quit at mile 50 because I thought I was GOING TO DIE.  She completed the ride but it’s been a good-natured joke between us since then.   I was busy but I wanted to respond to her  because we’d had a meeting the night before with our bike club and she’d brought me an awesome handmade birthday present so I wanted to shoot her a quick thank you.
I shot her a snarky little note rife with observations from said meeting and went to lunch.  I’m so funny, I thought!
I came back in and plopped down at my desk and brought up my email.  Immediately I saw MY OWN EMAIL in my INBOX.      I then saw around 16 other emails with the exact same subject line.
We just lost cabin pressure.
My lunch seriously almost came right back up because it was clear that my email had gone to the entire bike club, not just to my pal.  What happened next is kind of blurry because I was trying not
to pass the F out.  I think I kind of ran around in circles like I was having some sort of seizure whispering “ohshitohshitoshitoshit”!  I called Johnny and hastily told him what had happened hoping he’d have some instant fix but instead he just kind of chuckled and said “you know honey, I find it hard to believe this hasn’t happened to you before…this is seriously the first time?”, to which I screamed “NOT HELPFUL!” into my cellphone and hung up on him.
Trembling, I sat back down at my computer and clicked on the other emails.  Of course they were all folks telling me that they had received my private email.   One lady even responded
“Whoa.  DON’T YOU KNOW THIS GOES TO THE GROUP?!?  WHOA!!!!!!!!!”
Yes, yes I do.  Now.
Let’s review.  I sent an email to around 75 women in my bike club where I proceed to………..
1.  sort of make fun of Diabetes (!) and the charity ride ( we have around 5-8 members who have Diabetes and this ride is the most coveted group ride we participate in)
2.  refer to another member as a “dirty hippie”
3.  insinuate that our Treasurer is dour
Oh, did I mention that I am also THE VICE PRESIDENT of this club?!?!   Jesus.
Needless to say, the fall out has been good times.  Nothing I could do but own it and face up to it and to be honest the thing I felt the worst about is calling the one chick a dirty hippie because I think she’s pretty cool.  I sent the a proactive apology and stated that I hoped that if she was in fact a dirty hippie then she’s probably a pacifist and hopefully wouldn’t kick my ass.  Come to think of it, that doesn’t sound much like an apology, does it!?
It’s kind of going down the middle I think.  Some folks thought it was funny and kind of privately think along the same lines.  Other ladies think I’m horribly inappropriate and offensive.  My friend was even a little bit upset because the email pretty much made it clear that she and I talk about the entire club which of course we do but she is a sweet and good person that actually does care about what people think which begs the question, why is she friends with me to start with?!?   I AM A BAD PERSON.
The whole thing has been a terrible mess and I’ve learned a lesson, certainly.  You want to know the most horrifying part?!?  Between you and me, it’s that I didn’t HAVE MORE TIME.  I was in a hurry when I jotted this email down and I can only imagine what pen would have put to paper if I’d had more time in which to really let loose.  It could have been so. much.worse.
Shit.
Think I should put “reply to all” on my jersey?

I know you’re dying to know what I did this weekend so I’ll tell you. I shopped.  I lunched with a dear friend.  I made sausage balls and attended my first (!) bachelorette party and then? Then I slept in so late that it was borderline decadent and then decided to do this.

Y’all. I seriously had trouble walking after exiting this stinkin’ roller coaster. I *may* have had to change my underwear.  SO. FUN.

More exciting work news to follow but right now it looks like girl corrupted needs to attend to some laundry.

I know you’re …

Tick tock

So I’m on pins and needles about this job.  They sent me a note yesterday and said they’d probably know something soon so here I sit staring at my laptop and refreshing my browser every 12 seconds.   I’ve done nothing all day long but that’s not really new is it?

Now if I do in fact get the job I’m going to be somewhat bitter about how I’ve spent this “time off” in between jobs.  What I SHOULD have been doing is catching up on house cleaning, riding my bike, finishing my scrapbooking and reading.  What I DID DO is lie about my house in dirty pajamas watching marathon episodes of Hoarders and Intervention clutching a bottle of vodka and feeling sorry for myself. Pitiful.

Pathetic, really.

Then I find myself job surfing on Craigslist and I get so irritated and annoyed at the scams and misspellings that I wind up over at “missed connections” because you know I love that shit.  I read it for the sheer ridiculous entertainment, not  because I’m hoping anyone is ever looking for me.  If I see a headline that reads “dumpy gal in stained sweatshirt counting change in liquor store” I’ll know better than to click on it.  Of course, I always read the men looking for women too because IT IS AWESOME.

Here’s my fave opener from yesterday’s search:

My name Robert. I am a heavyset guy. I am born with one bad arm and I have a trach tube in my throat for sleep apnea. Those 2 things doesnt stop me from doing anything i want to do.  You guys this was his INTRO.  His grammar kills me but you gotta admire his pluck.

So I wait.  And refresh.  And refresh again.  And go back to Craigslist.  And watch “The View” and secretly wish that I could take a fireplace poker to that smug little Elizabeth Hasselback.  Seriously, isn’t she awful?  Every time she opens her mouth I want to slap her with both hands.  Anyway, you can see how productive my mornings are can’t you?  It’s come to this.  If I don’t hear something by the end of the day I will wear a path in the dining room rug from pacing and probably be missing a large patch of my own hair.

Where I attempt to channel my inner Zen

OMG you guys like I have a fo’ real job interview tomorrow.  Not some Craigslist bullshit, but a seriously grown up job in a swanky and hip office.  I’ve been called a lot of things but “hip” certainly isn’t one of them.  I’m terrified.  First of all I have zero cool and professional clothes to wear and secondly I’m in desperate need of a haircut and highlight job.  I have no time between now and then though so I guess I’ll just roll in there looking like Tonya Harding and hope for the best.   Who knows, maybe I’ll fall down or have explosive diarrhea?  These guys are so hip they’re shiny and sleek even in their appearance.  I’m going to be the proverbial corn speckled turd in the punchbowl.

They were like “can you come in at 11am?” and I replied “well, I don’t know that’s usually when I watch The View but I guess I can DVR that shit”.   Okay, I didn’t say exactly that but I did mention that I usually spend my days watching Law and Order Special Victims Unit marathons so I’m pretty flexible time-wise.  No response.

I can tell immediately that this is going to be a situation where I need to not be myself during this interview which makes me even more nervous.  When I can’t be myself all I can do is focus on not being myself which makes me say something completely stupid and inappropriate which totally is being myself.   They’ll be talking profit and loss margins and I’ll blurt out something ridiculous like “anyone got any weed”?

So now I have nothing to do but freak the fuck out between now and 11am tomorrow because not blowing this interview will be my only focus.  I anticipate spending my evening going through every single item in my closet trying to find the perfect outfit that says “I’m responsible and efficient but I’m also totally confident and trendy”.

I. AM. SO. SCREWED.

I might as well just throw on my Honey Badger t-shit and some denim jorts, seriously.  Between that and my redeneck roots peeking through I’ll come across as a class act. The thing is at the pizza shop I just wore a ball cap and didn’t really worry about my ‘do.   AND IT TOTALLY SHOWS.  I wonder if it would raise any eyebrows if I rolled in there donning a bonnet?  Could I tell them I’m a Mennonite and that’s just how I roll? I know,  I’ll wear a hoodie!  How awesome would it be to just walk in dressed like the Unabomber and plop down at their conference table?

Awesome, sure.  Smart?  No.

Anyway, wish me luck guys.  I’ll let you know how it goes.  I’ll consider it a complete victory if I manage not to audibly fart.

I’m a nuisance.

Okay folks still working on the site.  Might have to bite the bullet and learn wordpress or some shit.  Be patient with me, okay?  Suggestions?
We just got back from Michigan.  A long weekend with an 105 year old woman and a NASCAR race.  Well, Grandma didn’t go to the race but guess who was there?  KID ROCK.  That’s right.  I love me some dirty Detroit Kid Rock.  My sweet Granny is sharp as a tack and funny although her humor is usually unintentional.  Oh, and she is always perfectly color coordinated and accessorized and here I can barely get out of yoga pants or put on a bra.  For shame.
Dear Craigslist:
It’s bad enough that I’m unemployed but you fuckers are adding insult to injury with your false job postings that are nothing but scams.  I am taking that reply email address and adding it to every gay porn site that I know.  Enjoy!
Sincerely,
Girl Corrupted
In more upbeat news, Chaz Bono was on Anderson today and it’s not even my birthday.  Woot!
Did I tell you all I’m “training” for a 5k?  Why do I do this to myself?  I am NOT a runner.  I do not enjoy it and I’m not good at it and I feel like my guts are jiggling.  My pal convinced me to do one of these color run thingies so maybe if people are actually throwing shit at me I’ll get motivated.  I am trying to lose weight (yawn/again) and I felt like this couldn’t hurt.  Still, I feel so dumb for trying this yet again.  I “ran” 3 miles yesterday in 42 minutes.  Can’t normal people walk faster than that?  Jesus.
OH!  This happened!

Okay this is a blurry pic from my pals Facebook page but this is the kind of random awesome thing I live for.  She posted this in her photos and I commented on how freakin’ cool it was.  I love stuff like this…original and vintage looking.  Yesterday after another defeating search for a job I came home and found a package in my mailbox.  This belt buckle was inside with a sweet note.  It was seriously the absolute (by a landslide) highlight of my day.  Thank you, Jess.  I’m from Michigan but my heart lives in Tennessee.

Alright.  Gotta wrap this up.  Having a birthday dinner with my Mother in Law and the kids tonight for Johnny’s belated.   She’s making a pork roast.  I almost gagged typing that but a little liberal splash of potato juice in my travel cup and off I go!  Hey, Johnny spent two solid days with a 105 year old woman who couldn’t hear a semi crashing through her home…I can handle a soggy pork roast with my Mother in Law and her yappy Shitzu.

Maybe.

Someone give me a job!  Come on y’all.

Mrs. Freud, your slip is showing.

While strolling through the cleaning supplies aisle at Target yesterday, my Mother and I were comparing personal notes on various cleaning liquids, shower/tub products, and antibacterial scrubs.

Mom: “So, you use one of those daily shower cleansers, huh”?
Me: “Yeah, well, I have those clear blocks in my shower and they get filmy”.
Mom: “Yeah, I can see that”.
Me: “Plus, I don’t want any orgasms in my shower”.
Mom: *blink*
Me: *!* “Organisms! I don’t want any organisms in my shower”!!!!

We laughed for five minutes straight.

I’m allergic to gravity.

This morning my alarm rang and zapped me out of a near coma. I shot up in bed and saw the time read 5:45am. In my slumber stupor I thought this was a boot camp day. Sheer panic made me roll over to get out of bed, not realizing I was already on the very edge of the bed. I fell headfirst out of my bed and hit FACE FIRST the hardwood floor.

I hit with some force as I was dead boneless weight. I felt like I was in the cartoons. I sat up and I thought there were chirping birds flying in circles around my head. Then I tasted blood. When my FACE made contact with the floor, evidently my teeth gouged the inside of my top and bottom lips. The whole left side of my face began to ache, as well as my left knee, which I suppose was the next appendage to hit the floor.

It took me a few seconds to blink rapidly and process what had just happened. I held my face and started to giggle. I think the last time I fell out of my bed, I WAS SIX. It’s hard not to feel like a dumbass when you’re sitting on the floor in the dark looking up at your bed with a rapidly swollen lip. Of course, I then realized that today isn’t in fact a boot camp day and that made the situation even more ridiculous. Of course, I scared the living crap out of Mr. Cooper who was sitting at my side looking very nervous. He was half asleep himself. That made me laugh even harder.

That’s what you call a rude awakening, but pretty damn funny nonetheless.