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2007-02-02 - 9:11 p.m.

Snowbound to Hellbound

It snowed today! Enough to mold in my wee hands and throw at the dogs while they ran around in circles in the dog enclosure. BOOF! Ha! Boof! Boof! BOOOOOOF! I play-wrestled with Buddy as he tried to eat my gloves, and hump me. He's got a thing about winter clothing. Don't ask me, man.

SweetPea cornered him a few minutes later and nearly tore his head off. She loves him so.

Then as we were walking back to the apartment, as I was inching down a small slope, I lost my footing and fell flat on my back. The dogs huddled around me and were all "Serves you right, you boofing dumbass."

Actually, it was more like "Momma? What are you doing on the ground? Get up. We want breakfast."

Fortunately, the fall wasn't too painful (my ample ass cushioned part of the blow), but I'm getting to the age where slamming my body against hard surfaces could lead to life-long aches and pains that I'll bitch and moan to someone else's grandkids about when I'm 75 because my ovaries dried up around 2013 after getting the "ok, we're done here" signal from the train station of love that hadn't seen a choo-choo since that unfortunate evening in 2009 when that guy (what's his face) and I broke the baby changing table in the Sonic bathroom after drinking Vodka and Cherry Limeades all night. On our first/last date.

Not that I'm feeling hopeless or anything about the future. I'll have my ice cream, my romance novels, and my addiction to pain pills.

But seriously, I need to get laid before my back goes out on me like John Lithgow's wife in Terms of Endearment. The last thing I need is a slipped disc to screw up my chances of getting it on with a sweaty construction worker in a gas station parking lot, behind the dumpster. Aim high, that's my motto.

No, no...but seriously (seriously). Seriously. I'm sure I'll find the man of my dreams while I'm shopping for egg noodles one day or some shit. One thing will lead to another ("I used to chew on my TinkerToys TOO!"), he'll have money to take me out to nice places for dinner, but we'll both admit our love for Red Lobster...and we'll, ya know, squeeze each other's lemons. So to speak.

Then we'll get married and raise Sea Monkeys. And he won't mind that Buddy's feet smell like Fritos. And that SweetPea wakes up with enormous globs of icky shit in the corner of her eyes. He'll wipe it away with his bare fingers and smear it on the unused part of the bedspread (like me!), because that's the kinda guy he is. And he won't mind that I snore and talk in my sleep. And fall off the bed on occasion. Or that I sing made-up songs to the dogs while I load the dishwasher. And he won't get irritated at me for asking "What's going on?" at the beginning of movies we've never seen before, because he knows I'm only asking because he's there. And maybe he knows something I don't know. Or caught something I didn't catch. Isn't that the point of having another person in your life, really?

I just hope he smells good and doesn't have too much body hair. And that's he's funny and doesn't spend 12 hours a day on the weekends playing Flight Sim. Oh, and he has to be compassionate, but not hippy-dippy. He's got to be smart, but not a pseudo-bullshit-intellect. He needs to know how to fix things. A man's man, but not a football and stripper watching bastard. He's loyal, faithful, loves me to bits, but isn't clingy. Affectionate, but not overly so (unless I want him to be). And he HAS to be a great kisser.

For my part, I promise to clip my wee toenails more often.

WOW. Look at the time. Tomorrow morning I'm heading to Houston. I may drive straight through (16+ hours) or stop somewhere for the night. Dunno. Depends who I meet at Sonic or Shell (*winking at Arkansas*)

I hope I sleep well tonight and have very good dreams. Last night Orlando Bloom gave me the cold shoulder (after our fiery affair), and this afternoon I beat the shit out of the farm manager's kids. I don't know why. They were there, and I was mad for no reason in particular, and their heads were SO ROUND and smackable. I have to admit, though I felt remorse for awhile, I let go and enjoyed it. Really embraced my evil side. Then I took some meds and nearly OD'd (by accident!)

When I woke up, the end of a show about Jonestown was on The History Channel. Ahhh, that accounts for the overdose part of the dream. Smacking of the children? Maybe my brain picked up on something about the abuse of the kids and I went with it in snoreville. La la LA!

Fucked up? Absolutely. And I'm gonna be one of the millions of people on the road tomorrow. Heh.

Drive safe, buckle up and lock your doors, folks. You never know. The person behind you in the McDonald's drive-thru for dinner tomorrow night could be ME!

But I'd be more apt to buy you a vanilla cone and McDonaldland cookies. Roll down your window, dude. C'mon. You can trust me.

*wink*

P.S. You guys MUST check out the track "Guyana Punch" from The Judy's Washarama album. My buddy Smed will especially love this album!