Just fuck you real world! Fuck you sideways with a rusty claw-hammer. :mad:
Tuesday my wife calls me at 1pm to let me know my mother-in-law is in the ER with chest pains & shortness of breath (she actually works at the hospital so calling to tell me she’s ‘in hospital’ doesn’t have the same impact). I race home to look after the boys and a few hours and lots of tests later it turns out she has had a pulmonary embolism. MIL just got back from a holiday in Vietnam and it looks like DVT from the flight caused a clot which broke loose.
So now I’ve taken a few days leave to look after the boys while my wife takes care of her mum because she is loaded with blood-thinners and has to do as little as possible.
On top of that my dad just called to let me know my grandmother (102 years old!) had a fall yesterday & broke her hip so now she is going in for surgery tomorrow and my mum is flying up to Brisbane help her out. Dammit she was doing so well. Still sharp, still knitting things for my boys and now… busted hips seem to be the turning point for a lot of older people I’ve known, once it happens they seem to fade away soon after.
I don’t know whether it’s an urban legend or not, but I’ve heard that very often it’s not “she fell and broke a bone”, it’s “she broke a bone and fell”. Very advanced decalcification. I’m sorry you’re having all this shit going on.
So! We’re getting married Sunday and then setting off for a faaaaabulous vacation! Also we’re so smart we decided it was a good idea to refinish our floors while we’re gone so we have to get everything out of our living and dining rooms by the wedding - and that’s a lot of crap because I am a super slob! And we got way too ambitious on the rehearsal dinner so we have costumes to worry about! What else do we need?
Well, no, but it isn’t stainless steel either – it’s chrome-plated brass.
The master bathroom sink has a stainless-steel faucet, though. Next time I’ll give it a try.
Today, two mini-rants: I made Thai-style red curry last night for dinner. I use curry paste because it’s really convenient (it’s the consistency of tomato paste and contains all those things like kaffir lime leaves and galangal that you wouldn’t want to try to find or keep on hand if you don’t make fucking Thai curry every day). Great product – annoying packaging. It comes in these tiny little jars that my spoons won’t fit into! I have to use the handle of the spoon to scoop the stuff out. Minor annoyance.
Less minor, but still curry-related: the original plan was that Mrs. Chef was going to go thrift-store shopping with her work husband to get stuff for their Honey Boo Boo-related group H-ween costumes, and then grab dinner. So Lil’ Miss Sous-Chef and I went to the YMCA so I could work out and she could go swimming, then we were going to have father-and-daughter dinner at Sweet Tomatoes. Only just as I was getting out of the shower at the Y, Mrs. Chef texted me and said her work husband wasn’t feeling well, so they were going to skip dinner.
Okay fine – Lil’ Miss Sous-Chef and I scrapped our dinner plans and hurried home, and I started chopping veggies like a fat whirlwind, sauteeing shrimp, you know, cooking like a motherfucking BOSS.
And JUST as I got too far into the cooking process to turn back, Mrs. Chef texted AGAIN and said that she and her work husband were going to eat together after all. Hrmph! We totally turned our plans upside down for you when your PREFERRED dinner plans fell through, and now you aren’t even going to join us? Well FINE. No delicious crisp-tender vegetables, perfectly sauteed shrimp, and creamy, coconutty, spicetastic curry sauce for YOU! Hrmph. HRMPH, I say!
HA! The other Shoe accidentally walked in on me when I was on the throne except I wasn’t peeing and after the whole “AAAH!” “Oops! Sorry!” routine, as he closed the door, he added:
“Did I scare the shit outta ya?”
No. No, you didn’t. Turns out that phrase doesn’t work for me…
I don’t drink, so I never think of booze! I’ll try some today - maybe that *was * it. I’m going grocery shopping today, so I’ll see if anything in the store calls out to me.
Fat. When I’m having a random what-in-hell-am-I-craving moment, it’s usually fat or protein. I’ve seen studies that say that most ‘sweet’ and carb cravings are actually fat cravings in disguise.
Try some cheese or buttered toast or something like that, see if that does it.
Listen, bitch. If you can’t fucking spell, stop fucking interrupting me when I’m trying to fucking spell this out for you. Write what I tell you, like a good little monkey.
Snow and a hurricane predicted around here right before Halloween. Are you out of your fucking mind, October? Was last year’s trick-or-treating cancellation, downed power lines, destroyed trees and foot of snow not enough for you? Are you some sort of fundy lunatic who hates kids? What the hell happened to that nice October we all love so much? You know. The October of beautiful leaves, pleasant weather, fresh apples and glorious red, orange and yellow vistas? Were you jealous of December? Irked that people like April flowers and Easter candy?
Geez. Enough already. The hissy fits are not nice. Anymore and I’m going to group you with March and August on my list of months that suck.
A work husband (or work wife) is a cow-orker that you hang out with, share jokes, go to lunch with, etc. to the point that the two of you are almost like an ersatz couple.
Mrs. Chef’s work husband is the same physical type as me, but younger and gay.
