Blame it on The Bug

I totally have a bug up my nose. I am sure of it. This is better than a bug up your ass,

But still.

400 sneezes later, I am still convinced there is a DAMM BUG UP MY NOSE.
I think I can feel its twitchy little bug feet stomping around between my eyes.

I am afraid to blink because when I do I see big furry legged insects behind my eyelids.
I am afraid not to blink because someone told me if you sneeze with your eyes open, your eyeballs pop out.

Lovely.

I once had a boyfriend who put jock itch cream in his ear because it itched (What can I say, he was hot, I tried to overlook the improper use of topical ointments). I would put jock itch cream in my nose right now to see if it kills bugs, except I don’t have balls, therefore, I have no ball cream. I guess I should have married him, and then my problems would be solved.

On second thought, that’s a bad idea, I would still have a bug up my nose and a husband with itchy parts. Come to think of it, I put vagina cream on my toes last week to see if it would help the allergic reaction I had from shampooing the horrid white carpet at The New Digs barefoot. That didn’t work at all. Maybe I was too hard on him. I probably should have married him. Oh wait, he didn’t ask, or maybe he did, I’m not sure, it’s hard to concentrate with a tarantula winding its way to your cerebral cortex.

That is so gross. Let’s talk about something else shall we?

How about,the fact that not only did I apparently snort a June bug up my nose hole today, I also managed to send the entire contents of my e-mail box to one of my co-workers. All 1492 saved messages. How cool is that? Or, not. And while I was at it, it seems I also sent dozens of random e-mails across the world. If you got one, or a hundred, Sorry. I am blaming it on the bug.

Out-
T

*Also, I can't post a picture, which is probably for the best, but I'm pretty sure that's the bugs fault too.

Fancy Ketchup

I know I have green eyes. I know I am left handed. I know that I have never put a Brussels sprout in my mouth, nor will I.

These are facts.

Somewhere between the facts and the total bullshit I tell myself, there is a murky area of things I believe to be true.

For example, I believe that I am not a total asshole, others often disagree. I believe that Brett Michaels is still hot (sort of), because if I didn’t believe that, then I would have to admit, that I am old as fuck too, and that my eyeliner, that looked just as pretty as his in 1987, only serves to accentuate the crinkly skin bordering my basset like eyeballs that other people (who laugh) refer to as laugh lines.

Also, I believe I am pretty fancy. There is really no basis for my opinion, other than, I decided a long time ago that I was. So, now I am. Fancy.

The thing about fancy, is that you can think that you are, until someone informs you, you’re not.

One day your blonde tresses are shiny and lustrous, your eyeliner is perfection, every horny chick in America, or, at least in Kansas wants to hump your leg, and the next thing you know, you are on a bus with a bad weave and presbyopia.

Or, in my case, one minute you have a killer do, a hot car and kick ass boots, and the next you are covered in orange paint wearing a stained Oz Fest t-shirt, sporting a hairstyle that looks for all the world like a guinea pig is molting on your skull.

Combine that unpleasant image, if you are able, with a male escort adorned in white socks and tire tread sandals, driving a 1982 Olds Delta 88, with no shocks and a second hand dresser tied on top with bungee cords.

It does not exactly scream fancy, now does it?

The nice ladies at the Sugar and Spice Resale Store certainly didn’t think so. They were almost polite when they directed me to the back of the parking lot, where the good souls of Granbury Texas were handing out free food boxes. Apparently, I am more homeless-ish than fancy.

“Why? Why Nice Ladies do you do this to me? I am here because I want to buy a desk. With money! I do not want your free canned Brussels sprouts. I will never eat a Brussels sprout! I am Fancy! I borrowed the car! The hair, well, you have a point about the hair, but still,

I AM FANCY DAMMIT!”

Sensing my distress, my escort, the dork in the sandals and socks, suggested that we go to lunch. After all, he had used a TV tray as a desk this long, another week or so, until I composed myself wouldn’t hurt.

“Lunch, are you kidding me? I need to go home and lie down.” I responded.
“But I’m starving” he whined.
“Fine then, let’s drive through McDonalds” I said.
"McDonalds? McDonalds is disgusting" he continued.
"Totally", I countered, "But they have fancy ketchup."


Out-
T

image:http://images.teamsugar.com/files/upl1/1/15259/16_2008/ketchupgourmet.jpg

I’m ready for My Close-up, but I’d prefer a LivaSnap Mr. Demille

"I think what he was trying to say is "Are you serious?" when I kindly asked Fletcher to remove his doggie self from the chair I just finished re-doing, either that or "Get lost lady" I'm not sure..."
- Tobi

This is Fletcher, one of the most annoying canines on the planet according to me. He is however quite photogenic, which is why he was included in Desire to Inspire's Monday feature, Pets On Furniture. Also, he was sitting on furniture so that helps.

I submitted his photo without consulting Vivian the Obstinate Poodle, as it turns out that was a really bad idea.

She is plenty pissed.

I tried to point out that she is earthbound and incapable of jumping on furniture so the chances of her being included were slim, not to mention the fact that I am blind and incapable of taking a picture that is in focus. 

She's not buying it.

I think is it funny that the person submitting the photo was Tobi and not the dog. 

Vivan remains unamused.

Out-
T.