The Male Brain

WWSD? Suzie would patiently decipher each and every one.

I really don't understand men sometimes. You tell them to leave you alone and they won't. You flirt like crazy and they act like nothing's happening. You shove a foot up their ass and they get mad. They shove theirs up yours and you're supposed to like it. I am tired of trying to figure men out. Unless they speak to me in English and clearly state what it is they want, I'm not going to bother with any of it.

For the last several nights, I have been under the attack of drunken texts -- ranging from I love yous to I hate yous, I want you backs to I hope you rot in hell. The first couple of nights, I tried to decipher Dick's intentions. I attempted to pick apart his slurred words (yes, he's slurs when texting) looking for any meaning whatsoever. I quickly came to the conclusion that not only was there no meaning, I really didn't care to know it if there was.

I have since turned my phone off at night, but that only delayed the inevitable. As soon as I turn my phone on in the mornings, I am attacked by the constant beeps. The night's conversation comes pouring in at once. The latest text has me the most confused:

I love you. I want you back. I called Tom (the real estate agent) and he should be by tomorrow. I hope you rot in hell for what you've done.

Yeah, okay. You love me, but want me to rot in hell. You want me back, but are putting the house on the market. And for what I've done? He left, not me.

So you see, I'm done with trying to figure out the male brain. It is too damn time consuming and I have better things to do. I'd rather spend my time with a bunch of old ladies playing Bingo and discussing which brand of denture cleaner works the best than attempt to decipher this shit.

Assed Out

WWSD? Suzie would have simply grabbed some newspaper, rolled it up, and squished the little bastard like nothing happened.

Me? I freak the hell out and almost kill myself in the process (see, I wasn't joking).

I hate spiders almost as much as I hate Dick. Seriously. I was trapped in my living room once for over an hour because one decided to hang in the doorway, taunting me with his ability to move up and down so effortlessly. I knew if I got anywhere near him, he'd pounce on me quicker than some of the horny, old (and rather limber) men at my local supermarket. So I sat there, for over an hour until my son came in from outdoors to squish him for me (yes, I get my son to kill bugs -- sue me).

The other night was no different. I had went upstairs to check on my sleeping kids before turning in myself. As all was well, I go to head back down the stairs. I clear the first two steps when something catches my eye. It's a damn spider! Without thinking, I tried to get out of the way and lost my balance. I fell the next eleven steps and landed flat on my ass!

Luckily, all I suffered was a nasty abrasion to my arm (as seen in the picture). The worst part about the whole damn scene was that after closer inspection, it wasn't a spider at all -- it was a common housefly. I almost killed myself over a fly!

So the moral of the story is this: If you don't pay attention to the details, you'll find yourself flat on your ass every time.

Now go ahead, laugh at my expense. I have some really nice things planned if you do.

[Edited to add: It turned out fuzzy, but my son took that pic and actually taped his Spiderman logo to my shirt. He is now on my list too.]

Unwise Old Man

WWSD? Suzie would ignore them and go on about her chore.

I hate grocery shopping. It has to be the worst chore ever (aside from scrubbing pissy toilet seats). It probably doesn't help that my local market tends to be the hangout for horny, old men. You know the kind -- they stare you up and down, casting you in their mental pornos while grabbing their crotch as if they've developed a sudden itch. Every once in a while, I guess the grabbing gets good to them and the utter stupid shit. Yesterday, I had enough.

They saw me as soon as I walked in. The hairy old bastard is the worst. He will stare at me like I would never notice. He does not care who sees him fondling his (lack of a) package. He is downright rude and I was flat out pissy (I was in the middle of making homemade mac and cheese when I realized I was out of milk). I knew this was going to get ugly.

As usual, looking like a duck with ducklings in tow, I dash down the aisle, grab the milk, and proceed to check out. The cashier rings my purchase, I pay, and I head for the door. Just as I reach the door, there went the comment -- Will you look at the ass on her.

Now keep in mind that my kids were with me and this comment was made loud enough for all in earshot to hear.

I completely lost it at this point. I did not want my kids to witness what I was about to do so I had them sit on the bench by the door (facing the opposite direction) and gave them my mobile phone to take pictures of the birds outside. I then walked over to the hairy bastard and told him that not only did I have an ass, I could act like one as well. I opened the milk, poured it down his pants, and for once this man was speechless.

Needless to say, we didn't have mac and cheese last night, but I feel better knowing the milk was used for a greater purpose.