Tag Archives: OCD for You and Me

No, Thank You

Well, we’ve already established (several times) that I am obviously NOT afraid of going to Hell… but that does NOT mean I am completely fearless!  (Stop crying, Tazer.)  Fortunately, my fears tend toward the… completely ridiculous…

1.  Nutcrackers, dolls with teeth and (I’M SORRY!) midgets

This ridiculous fear started with the terror that is nutcrackers (which I inherited from Dear Sweet Mama), then metamorphosed into any doll whose teeth you can see after I saw the movie “Barbarella” where the evil little girls try to get their dolls to eat Jane Fonda (another reason little white girls should never be trusted!), which logically leads into a fear of midgets.  Sorry, “little people.”  But I figure if I’m fucked up enough to be afraid of an entire group of people, political correctness is the LEAST of my worries!  It’s like having a phobia of Frenchmen or something. I feel TERRIBLE about it.

2.  The theme music from “Tales from the Darkside”

Toldja they were ridiculous.  I honestly CANNOT hear that music without getting freaked the fuck out and having nightmares (thank Goddess for DVR and fast-forward, back when we had to watch things “live” DSM had to make sure I left the room before it came on!)  Looking at the creepy photo-negative image they use is not good either, but I can handle that as long as I don’t hear THAT MUSIC!

3.  Geese, ducks, any large-ish bird

This one has good reason behind it — a Canada goose once blacked both my eyes when I tried to feed it a barbecue sandwich (maybe he was a Muslim goose and he didn’t eat pork?).  Fuckers are STRONG, yo.

4.  Locusts/cicadas/whatever the fuck you call those devil bugs

Some of you may already know this story, but when I was a wee tiny Hoody, my elementary school class went on a trip up into the scenic mountains of Wes’BYGAWD Virginny during what (unbeknownst to me) turned out to be one of those 7-year locust outbreaks.  Fuckers were EVERYWHERE.  And then, as me and my little friend were walking along the trail… a locust landed on my shirt — THUD!  And hung on with its horrible feet, and I looked down into its evil red eyes, started screaming, and ran off.  Yes, ran away from something that was STILL ON MY SHIRT.  And I almost ran off a cliff.  So locusts tried to kill me… and they wanted it to look like an ACCIDENT…

5.  Disheveled shelves in stores

Like at Christmas or if there’s a blizzard warning or something?  And you go in and the bread and shit is all flung to hell and back and you actually have to step OVER items to get around?  Yeah, I can’t take that.  This is why I stay home on Black Friday and never, EVER go to places like Gabriel Brothers.

AND BONUS, just to freak all y’all out, too:

Those little microscopic bugs that always live on our skin, no matter how much you wash.  You’re welcome.

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Filed under Adventures with Dear Sweet Mama, My Secret Shame(s), Only in Wes' BYGAWD Virginny

You’re So Jealous

I came home from work yesterday to find the most amazing thing…

CHUCKWEASEL

HAD DONE

THE DISHES.

And my dishes were BAAAAD, y’all.  I had let them get to the science project stage during the deep dark depression, and they had become my nemesis!  The whole rest of the house is clean (except Petey’s Room, gimme a break), but those dishes were the hill I could not climb (almost literally).  I couldn’t believe Chuckweasel would do such a nasty chore without ANY prompting — I was struck speechless for a minute!

I mean, Chuckweasel’s chores are usually outside-related chores — like, take out the trash, carry in the groceries, etc.  If we had a yard, he would have to mow it, if we had a dog, he would have to pick up its poops.  But dishes are INSIDE, and so under my domain… but he did it anyway, bless him!

And he did them WELL, too!  Number one, he didn’t even use the dishwasher (he claims he doesn’t know how, which proves I’m not getting rid of this chore for good!), and number two, THE DISHES WERE ACTUALLY CLEAN.  This is utterly shocking to me — I am EXTREMELY OCD about clean dishes, and if there’s so much as a SPECK of food or what-not left on a plate, that whole load’s getting washed again.  I once had a boyfriend who I SWEAR would deliberately fuck up chores so he wouldn’t have to do them anymore — needless to say, he did the dishes exactly once.

So, let’s line up, Sister Wives… it may be time to give Chuckweasel a however-many-of-us-there-are-some… a “menage’ a us”, if you will.  All you boy-types are excused… you can do more chores while we’re busy!

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Filed under Aw, Chuckweasel, La Vida Loca, My Secret Shame(s), SCIENCE!, The Legend of Petey, Twu Wuuv

The F***ing Walmart

Today is Chuckweasel’s birthday (happy birthday, you old bastard!), so what better way to celebrate than to thoroughly insult and disparage “his” Walmart?

To begin, let it be understood that Chuckweasel’s Walmart (also known as “this fucking Walmart!”) is the one that is closer to his apartment, whereas “my” Walmart is closer to my apartment.  Yes, in WBGV, we have Walmarts about every 10 miles or so to make sure you’re never without access to crap.  Now here’s the thing — BOTH the Walmarts in question were built back before Walmarts sold groceries (a dank and dismal time WHICH I HAD TO LIVE THROUGH, thankyouverymuch!), but here’s the thing:  MY Walmart chose to remodel and expand to accomodate groceries, whereas Chuckweasel’s Walmart…. did not.  So they’ve just got shit jammed in any ol’ where, and it makes not a damn bit of sense!

For example, in MY Walmart, pet food, cleaning supplies and paper towels and such are all at the back (where you’re supposed to start, but I’ll cover that later), right before you get into the serious grocery section.  Therefore, you can get all your stuff that is relatively LARGE (cat litter, toilet paper, etc.) before you buy small things like eggs and capers.  Then you move through soft drinks, bottled, water, and liquor… see the size progression?  This makes SENSE.

In Chuckweasel’s Walmart, pet food is in the center aisles near the front, right behind birthday cards (WTF?  “Happy Birthday Grandma!  Here’s some Friskies!”).  You then go through some of what can only be called “weird shit aisles” before reaching paper goods and THEN cleaning supplies… but the cleaning supplies are arranged in some kind of psychotic order having nothing to do with the way they are used.  Then you are finally at the back of the store to begin filling your cart with cases of Coke and flats of water, but you CAN’T, ’cause YOU’VE ALREADY HAD TO PASS EGGS AND MILK and they’ll get mooshed in the cart!   This DOES NOT make sense.

Of course, the reason this upsets me so is that I HATE to backtrack in the store.  I make my grocery list in order of the way “my” store is arranged, and making me go to the fucked-up Walmart fucks up my EN-tire list!  Dear Sweet Mama trained me from birth to start at the back of the store (Cokes, etc.) and move forward, only backtracking to pick up meat (which you get LAST, right after frozen food — duh). 

CHUCKWEASEL DOES NOT KNOW HOW YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO SHOP.

So he’s all willy-nilly all over the place, backtracking to and fro and coming back to meet me — because he knows where I’ll be BECAUSE I FOLLOW THE SYSTEM.  Swear to GAWD, that boy ain’t right.  Maybe he’ll get wiser with age?

Anyhoo, happy birthday, you crazy fuck!  You know we love you! : )

PS — Yesterday was Poor Ol’ Dad’s birthday, but I can’t say anything bad about him.  Number 1, he goes to MY Walmart, Number 2, he found me a good therapist, and Number 3, he has a gun.  But happy birthday, Poor Ol’ Dad!

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Filed under Aw, Chuckweasel, I Rule You, I'm Confused, La Vida Loca, Only in Wes' BYGAWD Virginny, SCIENCE!, Weep for Humanity, WTF???

The Talking Cure, Pt. 2

Good news, I’m not crazy!  Well, not BAD crazy, just regular.  The therapist lady said “mild” depression and anxiety, so the Prozac and the Xanax should be fine.  Also, I actually enjoyed talking to her — the only other therapist type I ever talked to before was when I was a kid, and she just jumped to the “your parents are divorced, that’s why you’re depressed!” diagnosis without even LISTENING to me.  This one seems a LOT better.

I promise a longer post on Monday… when PEOPLE COME BACK TO FUCKING WORK!

Love, HH

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Filed under La Vida Loca, Random Thoughts, White Man's Medicine

The Pod’s Back

Remember when I was taken over by dark and alien forces and I cleaned all day long without even realizing it?  Well, it’s happened again.  As we all know, I’ve been a little chemically unstable lately, so the house is what might be politely called “a fucking disaster area.”  But now the meds are kicking in and I’m able to get up off the couch (don’t worry, the dent hasn’t filled in yet), so I thought I should start living like people again.  Before Neicy Nash comes to my house and freaks me out with that hair (BTW, does anyone know if she’s the same girl that plays the cop on “Reno 911”? — if she’s not, them bitches are clones or something!).

Anyhoo, I decided to start in the bathroom (at the very back of the apartment) and work my way forward.  So I put “Game of Thrones” on the bedroom TV OnDemand and set to it.

5 episodes, y’all.  I scrubbed that damn bathroom ON MY HANDS AND KNEES for FIVE HOURS.  I just went all OCD up in there.  I took all the cabinets and furniture type shit out and wiped them down, then scrubbed the floor WITH A SPONGE before I put it all back.  The cats think I have lost my goddamn mind (except for Callie Jean, who doesn’t care as long as “Game of Thrones” is on).

And now I kinda want to keep the door closed forever and use the toilet at the gas station to avoid besmirching my ultra-pristine bathroom.  It can be for display purposes only, right?

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Filed under Calpurnia Jean, I'm Confused, Kittehs!, La Vida Loca, My Secret Shame(s), White Man's Medicine, WTF???, Ye Olde Apartment Complex

Such a Geek

Okay, so I have settled on “Mina” and “Lucy” for the girl kittens who bite, and they actually seem to be learning that that’s who they are.  As for the kitten currently known as “Marceau,” I still need help!

See, the whole reason he was gonna be “Marceau” is that he has a little white face like a mime.  But what he really looks like (and yes, I realize this would be better with pictures, which I will endeavor to get taken this weekend, I promise!) is that Japanese red panda.  Except he’s grey.  But the face is the same. 

So here are some options:

“Kitsune” (Japanese for fox)

“Shiuaa” (Hopi for “painted face”)

“Gully” (phonetic spelling of Cherokee word for “raccoon”)

“Shifu” (the red panda character from “Kung Fu Panda” — which I did not see)

“Tanooki” (Japanese for raccoon)

As you can see, I’m getting in over my head here.  I need HEP, y’all!

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Filed under I'm Confused, Kittehs!, SCIENCE!, Uncategorized

The Apocolist!

Alright kids, I promised… so without further ado, here’s my current version of the Apocolist (it’s a constant work in progress).  I’ve separated it out into categories for your stockpiling convenience!

DRY GOODS: SEASONINGS

Pickling Spices, Gravy/Stew/Chili Mixes, Salt, Black Pepper, Garlic Powder, Sugar

DRY GOODS: STAPLES

Flour, Oats, Corn Meal/Cornbread Mix, Dry Beans/Grains, Dry Rice/Pastas, Dried Meats/Fish, Stuffing Mix, Potato Flakes, Powdered Milk

CANNED/BOTTLED GOODS:

Canned Fruit/Fruit Salad, Canned Vegetables, Corned Beef Hash, Canned Chicken/Tuna/Salmon,  Bottled Water, Fruit Juices, High-Proof Alcohol

LAST IN (SHORTER SHELF-LIFE):

Cooking Oil, Shelf-Stable Cheese, Stable Yeast, Wine

MEDICAL:

Gauze/Gauze Pads, Triple Antibiotic Ointment, Black Salve, Vaseline, Ace Bandages, Soap, Painkillers, Vitamin C, Multi-Vitamins, Water-Purification Tablets, Sanitary Pads and Toilet Paper (for as long as they last!)

SUPPLIES:

Canning Jars/Lids, ASSORTED SEEDS, Rope, String, Matches and Candles, Needles and Thread, Sturdy Cookware and Containers (metal), Pencils and Notebooks

BARTER ITEMS:

Coffee, Tea, Tobacco, Socks

That’s the current version — y’all feel free to chime in with anything I forgot!  You’ll notice there’s no weapons or ammo on there… that’s because I’m holding off until I know what KIND of ‘Pocolypse we’re getting before I choose the appropriate armaments.  You don’t bring a shortsword to a zombie fight!

And THAT’S why I’m the weird one… but later I’ll be the Queen…

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Filed under GENIUS!