"I'm in so much pain I feel like I'm in a Cure song"

I have to give credit to my husband for this comment that made me laugh so hard today I almost peed. "I'm in so much pain I feel like I'm in a Cure song". Absolutely fucking hysterical.

Now for those of you who don't know a) why he's in pain or b) who The Cure is, well if it's b, you're just a fucking idiot. The explanation for reason a is that DH hurt his back badly at work and needs surgery. To make it worse, NYC got about a foot of snow dumped on it this weekend. DH had to shovel out his car because my attempt at it was feeble. So he made his back worse.

Now back to b. OK. I shouldn't call you a fucking idiot if you don't know who The Cure is. But really, you are. The Cure is a band that formed in the late 70's and gained a lot of popularity throughout the 80's. It is an offshoot of the goth/punk scene. I will not get into the history of goth 101. It will take too long and I'm making dinner so no history lesson for you! (Said in my best Soup Nazi voice.) The Cure is considered one of the all time greatest goth bands. I will not debate whether or not their sound is gothic. I will not debate whether or not they are considered goth because of Fat Bob's appearance. (Robert Smith is the singer and main member of The Cure. He is sometimes lovingly and not so lovingly referred to as Fat Bob. I say it with love.) Let's just say for all intents and purposes, The Cure is a gothic band.

Being a gothic band, they should, or at least they used to, have a somewhat depressing sound and/or lyrics. They are often used in jokes in more mainstream movies and tv shows when referring to goth. (Think Adam Sandler talking to Drew Barrymore about listening to a lot of Cure stuff when he was left at the altar in the Wedding Singer.) This is probably due to a lot of old Cure fans now in positions where their taste in music can be shared with the mainstream. But I digress.

So what makes this absolutely hysterical to me is that DH does not like The Cure. I am a huge fan of older Cure material and have been for as long as I can remember. My close friends are as well. However, DH is not nor was he ever. This was a problem when I met him. When talking with friends, I divulged that he did not like The Cure. We all agreed that he and I should not be together. So much for that. I married the bastard. Again, I digress.

So DH doesn't like The Cure but uses them to illustrate just how much pain he's in. Now I ask you, if he didn't like them on some level, how would he know enough to use them in his joke? Maybe he's just making fun. Maybe he's really a closet Cure fan. (That would be fucking awesome!)

So Mr. Smith, if you ever happen upon this, yes I call you Fat Bob. No I shouldn't. But I do. However, it is with the utmost love and admiration that I call you by that name. It is a bizarre form of flattery.

To DH, come out of The Cure closet. It's ok. I'll even hold your hand.

To those of you who really don't know who the hell The Cure is, I really feel terribly sorry for you.

EDIT: I had a link up to a video I found on youtube but it was taken down. Just search The Cure. It's good for you!

Sangria and pulp

I love Sangria. Let it be said here and now, I love Sangria. I like it red, white, pink. I do not care the type. I like it.

However, what I do not like is the pulp that inevitably finds its way into my glass. I do not like pulp in my glass. I do not like pulp in my ass. (Sorry it rhymed and I've been drinking some guess what? Sangria!) OK enough Dr. Seuss.

Dear God of Sangria (who may at one time have been known as Bacchus or Dionysus but is now recognized as my husband):

I revel in how you make my beloved drink. I love the fruit you put in it. I like your choices of wine and other various alcohols. I truly enjoy that special secret ingredient that gives it that little zap of flavor and effervescence. And I love you for the fact that you make this for me.

However, oh God of the Beloved Drink, my teeth are not strainers! Holy shit do I hate pulp. I go to get my drink on, my mouth all watering for the yumminess my tastebuds are about to savor and damn it! There it is. Little teeny weeny bits of citrus fruit that decide they want to take a trip out of the pitcher. They don't want to stop in the glass. No, apparently, the glass is not exciting enough. Do they think it's as boring as the kiddie pool in the amusement park? There's no kiddie piss in there. I swear there isn't.

No, these little bastards want to go on the super duper water slide that is my throat and splash down in the big deep pool that is my stomach. They want to go on a fun, albeit terrorizing, journey in the dark at super high speeds. Well you know what? Fucking no. No. No. No. Learn the word no. It's good for you. No.

But you know, now that I think about it, it's not just Sangria. It's any drink made from a citrus fruit that I can't stand when it has pulp. I hate orange juice with pulp. I like orange juice but not with pulp.

I liken it to a bad sexual experience. I liken it to the experience of going down on someone really hot and finding something that shouldn't be there. How ya like it now?

Thanks friends!

I want to thank Amy and Cracker for doing their best to try to help me with my boredom. Ms. Amy, I just finished the first book. I was giggling like crazy. Thanks so much!
xoxo

Boredom

I cannot take it anymore. I simply cannot. (I'm on fire today. Can you tell?) I have been out of work for a while due to an injury. It's too long and annoying and embarrassing to get into. But let's just say, that no one would believe my tough girl persona if they knew how I got hurt. Anyway, that's not the point.

So I've been home for about a month now. I am not very mobile. I cannot really go anywhere except hobble my way to the doctor. Driving is difficult and so painful, it's nearly impossible. This is mostly because my car is a stick shift. *note to self, maybe caving in to an automatic might be the way to go on the next car purchase* So what can I do? I stay home.

Home is incredibly boring. To quote Johnny Rotten, "Boring boring boring". Except he was talking about sex and I would never ever say sex was boring, even if it was. Which it might often be. But I digress.

I stare at the walls in my tiny little apartment all day long. Holy moly I cannot stand it! It's bad enough that we went with neutral colors when we painted and bought furniture so everything is tan or beige or a light brown. And yes that shows we're grown ups now. But it's a whole other story when I have to stare at it all day long. My god it inspires nothing! I am in a sea of nothingness. Nothing exciting, nothing to do, no one to do. How sad is this? This is awful.

Now, I could try to have fun and play with the dog all day. Unfortunately, she sleeps almost all day long because she's old. And since I can't move around all that well, not running around much really isn't fun for a dog. So much for that idea.

So what can I do? And yeah, I've already thought of fucking myself. That only takes up so much time when one is alone so try another idea wise ass. I'm up for other suggestions. So come on. Drop me a note and give me an idea. I've already come up with the idea of writing this blog. But since I'm not doing a whole lot during the day, I only have so much to write about. Maybe I could find a producer? Look for a new job- one where I don't need to dress up in protective gear like my favorite goalie Henrik Lundqvist.

What's the expression? Idle hands are the devil's tools? Well I'm trying to keep out of trouble. However, I firmly intend to take over Hell when I get there so maybe I should just start practicing now.

Living on the world's largest garbage dump

What am I supposed to write about today? Global warming? OK here's my version.

I live in a place that has this unfortunate reputation. It was built upon the world's largest landfill. It can be seen from space. I know I know, you wish you were me. (Trust me, you do not wish you were me. But that's a story for another day.)

This lovely place has that certain special aroma on hot summer days, you know, ode to shitbag or something or other. It's awful. One cannot breathe while driving on the highway that runs through it. It is unbelievable. And what's worse is the fact that people live incredibly close to it. I don't know the exact figures but it is within blocks. Who the hell would choose of their own free will to live so close to a dump? Closed or not, you have to realize there are extreme health risks don't you? Like the cancer clusters that have formed? (I am purposely not citing sources because it would give away where I live.) I mean why would you do that? Are things that bad where you currently live that you say to yourself "Even living right next to the dump is better then this?". I just don't get it.

So I'm guessing that because people live in a place that used to be a dump, they act like the entire place still is a dump. They throw all manner of things out the windows of their cars- fast food containers, tissues, cigarette boxes, whatever. You know this is bad enough. It infuriates me. I honk my horn and yell various expletives which of course doesn't do anything but let me vent a bit. But dude, DO NOT THROW THAT SHIT OUT OF YOUR MOONROOF!! IT LANDS ON MY WINDSHIELD YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! I don't need your crap on my windshield because you can't wait 5 fucking minutes until you get home to throw it in your own garbage. No I wouldn't even suggest recycling it because I'm sure that you don't know what the word recycle means. You fucking douchebag! Die!

*deep breath* OK I feel better. This is how global warming has affected me. The place I live is disgusting. Several people who live here are also disgusting. They have no care for the land they live on. I suddenly feel like the star of this commercial from the 70's: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m4ozVMxzNAA

Old Column risen from the dead

Welcome to Whips & Kisses

I haven't been writing much for a long while. Whips & Kisses was a monthly column I used to write for a friend's Ezine called Propeller Magazine, also called Ffd Magazine. He decided to end the ezine and I didn't have the time to run the whole thing. But I really missed writing the column. So recently, I decided to make it a blog. I'll be writing about a plethora of things- relationships, my dog, stupid people, real estate (stupid people involved in real estate) - basically whatever is on my mind at the time. I have a lot of varied interests. It might make for good reading, it might not. If you don't like it, you don't have to read it.

I guess something to be aware of is that I have 2 master's degrees in counseling psychology. While my statements might be brutal, you can be sure they are made with a deeply educated foundation, even if it's not PC. I might ask questions that will piss people off. So be it. I'm not here to stroke egos.
I love answering mail so write with your questions. If you don't like my answer, that's too bad.