Bitch and Pieces

This Bug is starting to realize that her existence must be for the sheer entertainment of one (or many) who sits on high, rolling the tape and pressing pause on my most jarring and hilarious moments (well..to them, anyway). That may seem ridiculous- but so does my life lately. The past few weeks have been nothing short of trying. I'll spare you the sordid details but the morsels are worth sharing.



From the Clunker Chronicles comes yet another tale of woe. Yes, I knew the car needed oil. That little genie-in-the-lamp light thingy on the dash told me so. Yes, I bought two quarts, poured them in and went about my business that day. When the car seemed to be smoking from under the hood hours later, I was puzzled. I bought some Antifreeze and popped the hood. Then I popped the trunk when I remembered that the hood doesn't stay open without being propped up by my trusty 'Peacemaker'. I think it was a broomstick in a former life. Just then, a stranger asked me if I knew what I was doing to which I haughtily replied that I did. Then I saw that I never screwed the oil cap back on from earlier that morning. The sad truth? That's not even the first time I've done that. I should just park up the jalopy and break out the mountain bike. No. I have no idea what I'm doing.




Up until this morning- I had no idea I subconsciously feared growing old. Then I woke up from a dream where I laid down, sans bra and my breast rolled and came to rest comfortably in my left armpit. I mean, even the nip was to the side instead of facing forward (upward?). I dunno. It was hella disturbing and I consider it a nightmare of epic proportions. Up there with when I was being stabbed in an alleyway while acid rain was melting my skin off. It's all pectoral flies and bench pressing from now. And lots and lots of moisturizing. Lots.



I'm so ashamed. Well, not quite. Suffice to say I dabble in the libations a bit. 3 Ciroc bottles. 2 Absoluts. 1 six pack of Heineken. 1 Guinness stout bottle. 6 empty cans of Dole pineapple juice that blend so perfectly with the coconut vodka. And oh, I almost forgot. One telling blue bottle of Reisling. And a partridge in a pear tree. You get the picture. The Hefty bag sounds like the circus is coming to town...or just left.


Um..New York City cops tend to disagree. Unless you have a hack license. That's next on the to-do list after I pay that blasted ticket.



Just so you know, This Bug imbibes more than grapes and grains. Thanks to Will Ferrell in The Other Guys I discovered how wonderfully refreshing a few slices of cucumber can be in ice cold water. Lemon water is so passé. Try it now. Thank me later. And Will, too.



Call it covetous. Call it unethical. Call it what you want. But there is only one pair left in my size at the side gig and I'm hiding them until the price inevitably gets marked down. Now, I know that in some way, shape or form this causes the company to lose money by preventing the common man from purchasing them full price. I get that. But I don't give a fat frog's ass. I've never owned anything so frivolous and over the top fashion-wise and perhaps never will again. Don't judge me...'til you see me sportin' them with some liquid leggings and a gorgeous blouse.


So last weekend my father goes into a popular Superstore that rhymes with Schmalmart. He picks up some coffee creamer and two sets of clothes hangers. Once the cashier rang him up- the total sounded unusually high. It turns out he picked the hangers up from an area they didn't belong in and was mislead about the price. So politely, he asks the cashier to remove the items based on the quality of the hangers in relation to price. Nothing more. She does this quickly and by herself as there was no need for a manager or the ever necessary 'key' at the register. Then she looks at my dad, scans the Coffeemate and says blankly, "You think you can handle that?" All I can say is that the Creator in His infinite wisdom saw to it that I was not there to witness this. She'd still be picking teeth along with whatever else she swallowed that day out of her shit right now.



Anyway, it's been a wild and sometimes taxing ride these past few weeks. I just wanted to share the bits and pieces...and maybe bitch a little. But even after all the frustration- something like this comes along and reminds me that there's always something to smile about:



"Well a very, very heavay ah, heavy dua, bertation tonight, we had a very derst, dereson, bite, lets go head terest tazon lusht to the vet to have the pet."

Fin