I was going to write a vilifying post about this evil plumber guy who is the living embodiment of
everything I could possibly loathe all wrapped up in one human being but then a puppy pooped its own weight in my office and very little in the world as thought derailing as a service dog giving you a panic-eyed expression while a co-workers puppy-in-training is dropping a load in the corner of your office.
I can actually say that right now I love my life.
Sure, I just cleaned up a load o’ poo and that jerk of a plumber is still over there lurking in his ‘allthatiswrongintheworld’ type way…but in reality all is going okay. You are probably wondering why I loathe this man? Well, because he is a asshat. Like, a real one. An oldschool woman-hating jerk. Asked for a mop and when I showed him where one was he picked it up and attempted to wring it out by hand (eww). I showed him the wringer located on the mop and he said, “I am not a woman; I don’t know how to use these things” my reply? “Well, I’m not a man and I know how to use every tool you have with you. So what’s your point?”
He seemed to think that was hilarious but since that crack plumbing team of “asshat” and “onthephone” brought an arsenal consisting of one pair of channel locks and a screwdriver I can honestly state that I have the ability and knowledge to use every tool they brought with them. Every single time I do a minor (MINOR) amount of plumbing (open u-bend to find lost whatever, new shower head, new flushing mechanism, etc.) I end up thinking how much I HATE plumbing. It only follows the timeless “righty tighty – lefty loosey” rule SOMETIMES. I mean, seriously? And did you know that the toilet you are sitting on right now is only one squadgy oval of wax away from leaking poop-water on your floor? At least with electricity you know water = bad and you also can state that enough of it will kill you. Zap = dead. Toxic vapors? Yep–they follow rules too. It’s just those sneaky damn plumbers with their sneaky damn plumbing making up rules as they go.
But they are smart buggers–I mean, no-one wants to crap in their own yard in front of the neighbors (could someone please inform the puppy about this?) so when that there fancy regulation wax dries out and poop starts seeping you are probably going to end up needing a plumber.
If I could do it all over again?I would TOTALLY become a plumber. )
There is a small subset of the population which truly are my kryptonite. They all appear to have the following similarities:
- They are big dudes. Seriously, we are talking that guy that when they walk in the room people say, “whoa”. Usually over 6′ 3″.
- They are very smart.
- They are very dour.
- They are intrigued by me, sort of attracted to me, but don’t really like me very much.
The first version of my kryptonite I married, the second moved to another country while I was out-of-town, and the third one just disappeared before I could ever kiss him in person. I *should* be thankful that I didn’t get a chance to do something stupid like fall in love with him. But boy howdy is it going to be awkward when we run into each other (notice I didn’t say “if”? yeah, the Gods love awkward way too much for it to be “if we ever run into each other”).
The problem with H-Kryptonite is that I *want* to make them happy. Everything inside me screams to do everything I can to make them happy–but when they aren’t (see #3) it hurts me because I feel like I failed. Lame, right?
So, new rule? If a suitor comes my way and they display any version of #4 – it is a HELL NO because I deserve better. If they have either #1 or #2 (yay!) but if they combine either of those with a #3 I’m thinking itsa no.
I need a flow chart.
Well, it’s lunchtime again and I have absolutely nothing of importance to share. I do learn more about myself on a daily basis–some of which does not flatter me. I often joke about my awkwardness; the thing is? usually I am awkward-charming; but sometimes I’m horribly reminded that I can delve into a scary state of awkward when I am attracted to someone. That unfortunately awkward idiot doesn’t know when to shut up and go away and keeps attempting to poke the other person into liking her; it kind of hurts me to watch myself do it.
*stands there; pokes with finger* “like me now?”
*pokes again* “how about now?”
*pokes again* “now?”
*double poke* “better now?”
*poke* “wait?, where are you going? but I have more POKING!”
Quick run-down: ‘performing’ for new people I am awkward-charming-funny; performances for me are when I am teaching or even visiting with people/acquaintances/family and I am fucking amazing at it. It took me over 3 decades to realize that performance-piece of awesome, well that isn’t really me. I am pretty comfortable with the me that is too loud, too snuggly, and usually wearing a huge dorky smile while craving physical affection A LOT. This is the me you will see I am comfortable and with true friends and loved ones. . It was only today that I realized there is a third culprit–a version of me that I am just beginning to understand. If I am sounding a little too schizophrenic; please know I don’t “switch” minds, the different ‘versions’ are me using different behaviors that I am trying understand. Hand to Gods; I didn’t do this on purpose. I have always been attracted to big dudes and have a special weakness for big dudes who are not that excited to be involved in my life. It’s like I can here a celestial voice state, “CHALLENGE ACCEPTED”. And I become a much less attractive version of myself; let me specify – I become much less attractive to myself. So, after this unfortunate enlightenment I feel very, “well, huh. that’s unexpected” about the whole thing. Sheds an unfortunate understanding onto the aching scar of my failed marriage….hell, even sheds a brighter light on the dude who moved to Canada without telling me.
Perhaps dudes over 6 foot 2″ are just my damn cryptonite? *shrugs*
With age comes more wisdom about my past and more frustration with myself by redoing the same dumb crap.
Live, Learn, Fuck Up, Get Older, Keep Living, etc. etc. etc.
Good morning y’all,
I was pretty darn sure this trip to the states had broken the poor Herbert. He was okay but he had a noticeable lack of bouncing herbertness to his step. Or, to put it another way, he was way less annoying. Well thankfully (?) he is back to his kleptomania-induced whippy-tail-of-death for which to wake me up with a stolen slipper in his mouth (thankfully one i recognize this time!). So proud, yet so stupid and annoying……glad to have the pain-in-the-ass back again.
I would hit snooze but the jerk keeps bounding around and bouncing on any animal he can find to explain how exciting it is TOBEAHERBERT!!! Needless to say; they are underwhelmed…..
due to the someone in question being concerned regarding anonymity I have removed this post.