Angry Meter Maid is Angry...

Bwahahaha, someone posted this on Facebook and I had to share it.

I've used old tickets on a whim and a prayer when totally out of change before... and once I turned an old ticket upside down (I got busted for that one and got a $45 ticket). But this... THIS IS BRILLIANCE, and worth the ticket:

How much time you willing to spend, hmmmmmmm?

I want to be a troll  when  if I grow up.



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Sh*t My Husband Says

No word of a lie.

Today, I missed catching the garbage truck. My hubs always collects and puts out the garbage and recycling (sometimes I assist), but I got up later than planned and couldn't throw out my moldy, rotted flowers in with the trash.

So I improvised.

We have this high-falutin' food chewer-and-spitter-upper in the sink in our new place. It's called an InSinkErator, or garburator, and once I got over the insane guilt it caused me for not green-binning the organic waste, I started to kind of love it.

I'm evil, I know.

Stinky food peels? Garburatored.
Shit like cores and inedible vegetable parts getting in my way when I am (trying to) cook? Garburatored.

Mildewy flowers that have clouded their vase and are emanating a horrible rotten smell? Well, I would normally say garbage. But... I missed the truck and those babies smelled like rotten alien poo laced with a maggoty barn.

So... I figured... since I was sorting through what was still alive and salvageable right there at the sink... that... well, hey there, garburator! Flowers aren't so different from vegetables, right?

I'm sure you've handled worse, Garburator! In fact, the old owner of this house said there was nothing you couldn't chew up! So...

I started jamming rotten flowers down the sink. Despite my common sense telling me that it probably wasn't wise.

(Re-reading that caused me to break into laughter. Dear gawd this baby is going to be so screwed once it is born...)

Though, it was fun to watch the longer stems spinning around chaotically while the garburator did its thing... I kept squinting, half expecting daisy shrapnel to find its way back up and into my eyes.

So... the really hard stems still went in the garbage, which was okay because they weren't stinky. I threw a few more things in the sink as I sorted. Then I realized that some of them actually had a thin green wire threaded through them to keep them Viagra-proud and upright.

SHIT.

Pretty sure metal wire is NOT garburate-able.

Though I am 99% sure that I hadn't tossed any wired flowers down there, I was still convinced I had somehow busted our new-fangled fancy sink doodad. It seemed like stuff was still spinning, and water was spitting back at me when it shouldn't be. Dammit!

Fast forward to when the hubs is home.
I admit I shoved flowers down the sink. He looks at me in disbelief, probably remembering how impossible many of the stems were to trim, on the night he brought them home to me when I was quite sick.

I hadn't explained that I threw those super tough motherf*ckers straight into the garbage.

His next comment?

"Did you put your hand into the garburator to see if there was anything stuck?"

Seriously.

I mean, really, seriously.

Hahahah, yeah right, like I'd have a manicured nail like that. If I did, I'd be keeping it far away from the garburator.

Anyone who knows me knows EXACTLY how that scenario would have ended up. I would be raising this kid eventually with one hand and one prosthetic limb. All for the sake of a kitchen doodad.

No, sorry honey, I didn't put my hand into the terrifyingly whirring, spinning, bladed, sinkhole of destruction. For once, just ONCE, I realized that the potential gain did not outweigh the more-than-likely loss.

Ah, husband. I should have gotten rational points for that one. Really.
Seriously.

So he shoved his hand down there.

Into the garburator, I mean, you pervert.

And he declared that was what they did when stuff got stuck in their garburator growing up, but that it felt like it was all clear.

Hmph.

Last time I'm honest about jamming inappropriate things down the garbage disposal.


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Tinfoil Security AKA Batsh*t Crazy

I don't know if I have ever mentioned it, but I am educated in architecture. I took architectural history courses, but still couldn't tell you the difference between the Pantheon and the Parthenon. Shit like that comes in handy when playing trivia board games. Or, at least I assume it does, but I didn't retain the knowledge either way.

I always wanted to be in something construction related. My Dad always had an interest and a gift for building things, including designing and physically building his own house with the help of my naive and terrified mother.

So, after a stressful run at advertising in the big city of Toronto, I went back to school for Architectural Technology.

Pretty.Bad.Error.

Not my cup of tea. Not only do I NOT understand many of the concepts, I also happen to SUCK at retaining information and feeling comfortable alone with a dude or bunch of dudes on a job site.

However, in the years I did work in the field, I learned a few things. One of those things?

Architects can really be assholes.

Really.

Some have their big, grand ideas and not a lick of sense when it comes to practical layouts and functionality.

Now that you are all asleep at your computers, I will get to my next point:
Windows in bathrooms. More specifically, windows in motherf*cking showers.

Who thinks this is a good idea? I am not an exhibitionist (unless I have had a few too many vodka and cranberries, current belly situation excluded).

I am also not fond of mould, mildew, rust, and rotten wood frames.

Whoever believes a window in a shower is a good idea is, quite frankly, a dipshit. Unless the window is sealed properly, and the layout is designed with water infiltration in mind, it is going to fail.

In our rental house, I present exhibit A:

Shower to the left, and window to the right. Large window, at that.

But it gets better. First off, these aren't privacy mini-blinds - you know, the kind with the sealed holes where the string lines up. But even BETTER, I present exhibit B:

It could be said that with the blinds down someone PROBABLY couldn't see in, but I have way too many trust and body issues and far too much paranoia to just believe that.

That's right. Just outside that window is the top of the stairs where our front door sits. So if anyone is standing there, they could, realistically, look left and see you in the shower naked, even with the blinds drawn. The holes where the strings go could easily display some nipple. And the strings are all stretched out of shape and ready to fail, as they are not intended to be wet all the time.

Not only that, the metal blinds that are in there have rusted, and always stick together, making it impossible to raise the shade when you are looking for some grey BC daylight.

Not that you'd want someone to be able to watch you on the crapper, too, but I digress.

Seriously - an elderly lady lived in the house before us. Who redesigned her bathroom and felt this was a good solution?

So how did I handle it? Logically and maturely, of course. I brainstormed with my mom and decided plastering tinfoil would solve my problems. (Well, not ALL my problems... wouldn't that be nice? No, just my fear-of-displaying-nipple-at-the-front-door problems). So that is what I did. I used some packing tape and made it impossible for the UPS man to watch me suds up my pregnant belly. At least, you know, from my front door.

The webcam shows I do are TOTALLY different.
At least those are on my terms.
Heh.

So at least now I am quite certain that tinfoiling over a window puts me in the "undeniably f*cking batshit crazy" category, instead of your ho-hum "major depressive disorder" kind of instability.

But stop me if I start wearing it on my head.

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