Hot Tub Time Machine

So.  I am the proud new owner of a $50 hot tub.  It is straight out of the late 70s or early 80s and after moving it, we NEED it! 

I had to clean the heating element with vinegar to remove the lime scale while we were dong some maintenance on it.  Now the whole back porch smells like Easter egg dye.  Or douche.  

It is big and ugly.  Ivory fiberglass with dark brown Spanish tile trim.  I fully expect to lift the cover and find Ron Jeremy sitting in it.  And probably the only way we  can emulate the time machine experience is to  drink heavily and then hit replay on our mp3 player and zap us back a whopping 2 minutes and 39 seconds in time.  Deja vu all over again.

Best 2-line Conversation of the Whole Day

MyPoolBoy (to Chunk who had severe bedhead):   Good morning, Mr. Bieber, you missed breakfast. 

Chunk: Shut the h3ll up!

Foo King Chinese Food

Actually it is the Panda Cafe, but we are here because we needed to eat and the Telenav Gypsy Bi+ch reviews said it was cheap delicious college Chinese food.  It was next door to a place called BULLrittos and the Frozen Goat yogvurt shop.  We really thought we were getting the better deal of the three.   And THIS was sitting on the first table when we wlked in the door. 

What's HapPINing

So.  I get on Pintrest after hearing how it is the suburban woman's crack.   And my verdict is a resounding "maybe."

I've seen a few little tidbits of info here and there, and it has been brought to my attention that there is even etiquette for "pinning."  And none of this has ANYTHING to do with voodoo dolls or getting a hot fraternity guy to mark you as his territory.  Unless I run a search for hot fraternity guys on Pintrest and then I could see what it sends me to.  (Reminder to self: look up hot fraternity guys on Pintrest later.  Reminder to self #2: check original sites for ages of hot fraternity guys before repinning to avoid pesky jail time.)

I don't have it all figured out yet, and I'm not really sure how the site chose all these random-a$$ people or pinners or pin-ups or whatever-the-h3ll-you-call-them for me to follow.

There was one that came up tonight under the category of "Architecture."  Now, first of all - I don't give a rat's shiny green a$$ about architecture.  And second of all - it was ugly.  Commenting thusly  (Hey, I don't give a rat's shiny green a$$ about your ugly architecture, etc.) on the pinner's prized collection of virtual Ugly probably violates one of those decrees of pinning etiquette.  Instead, I "Unfollowed" it, but I really was considering for a moment of "repinning" the whole shebang to MY account and just renaming the category "Ugly Sh1t."

Ventilation Without Filtration

If I said everything I was thinking I would be unemployed, divorced, and have no friends except Felix and DonnyCat.

Here's what I am thinking and not saying today....

187.  It's my IQ.  It is also the California Penal Code for murder.  Trivia you might need.  

Oh, really?  Wahhh wahhhh.

You know what this place needs?  A big g0ddayum giant chocolate cake.  And vodka.

I'm so glad you have time to post on Facebook while the rest of us WORK for a living.

Your lack of planning is my emergency because WHY????

You know what you need?  About 10 more years of life experience.

Oh h3ll yes.  Please let me stop doing everything that I am doing and take care of YOUR crap,  because I know your crap has GOT TO BE way more important than mine.

Instead of thanking me for all the work I do for you, why don't you DO SOME OF THE WORK YOURSELF?

Dog and pony shows sure leave a lot of sh1t behind for others to clean up later.

If you can't say anything nice -- well, you seem incapable of saying anything nice, so shutting the h3ll up is really your only option, isn't it?

Sorry.  I forgot to be overwhelmingly impressed.  Do you want me to do a f*cking cartwheel?

Even if you spraypaint bullsh1t gold, it's still bullsh1t.

Yippee - effing - skippy.

Why yes.  I'd love another motherf*cking responsibility on top of all the sh1t I already do to make your life easier.

Oh f*ck.  Please go away.    

Heartbreaker

Wednesday.  Driving to Sonic with MyPoolBoy in the Beemer because it was a gorgeous day and I needed to have the top down for more than the 7 blocks from school to the house.  As if I was not already a nervous wreck due to the abysmal reality that I sometimes refer to as MY DAYUM JOB, I had the added pressure of transporting a backseat driver in the passenger seat.  I was doing the best I could to keep the clutch-shift-gas rhythm going in my head to avoid hearing the sounds of his teeth grinding and his nails digging into the leather of the armrest -- I was doing completely fine with only the intermittent distractions of squirrel roadkill and turning up the volume for an appropriate cruising song, and he drops this on me:  Well, Davy Jones died today.

What?

Ok.  Admittedly I was distracted by the dead squirrel in the road at this point and for a millisecond I thought he meant the pirate.

Then it hit me.

What?

So he goes - "I SAID Davy Jones died today.  A heart attack.  So there will be no more Monkees reunions."

I HEARD you.  What kind of sadist are you?  Crap.  Don't do that to a woman -- don't just break the news to her that one of the cutest men on the planet is dead while she's trying to shift from second to third.  Are you trying to get us all killed?  I could have careened out of control at the breakneck speed of 21 mph and it would have been ALL YOUR FAULT.

To make matters worse - this morning, the GrandMarshal spearheaded a celebration of Dr. Seuss's birthday by getting the cafeteria to serve green eggs and ham for breakfast and he totally missed two other very important occasions - Texas Independence Day and Jon Bon Jovi's birthday.  No mention at all.  Not one whit.

Fast-forward to now - because the in-between is a h3llish blur that would drive most women and all men to drink. Being in the category of "most women" I have concocted a "sort-of-pina-colada" from remnants of various flavors of vodka and rum and a pitcher of frozen pineapple juice.  And some flavored syrup sh1t like you're supposed to put in coffee but coffee contains no alcohol so SCREW THAT.

So I'm cruising Facebook and mulling over the comments by a few of the Banned Camp girls, and I come across THIS phrase: geezer rock stars I'd still do.

It's like an even MORE inappropriate though thoroughly precise version of Do-able/Not Do-Able.
And so, I am inspired.  Here's my list.

Rick Springfield (obviously)

Bon Jovi (though I am not sure that he qualifies as a geezer because he's only 50, so technically he is not even old enough for the senior discount at Denny's)

Possibly Barry Gibb of the Bee Gees.

Davy Jones WAS on the list but he's not now that MyPoolBoy broke my heart with his insensitive announcement.

Elvis WOULD BE on the list, but I was like, 9 when he died so that kinda would've been statutory rape and besides at THAT point in my life I thought Leif Garrett was cute, so what did I know?

P.S. Add Leif Garrett because now I'm inebriated, and it's just funny!

We May Not Win But We Had Fun Trying

 So.  Me and Felix and Duckit and Hyphen entered the campus chili cook-off, which I must tell you was disturbingly bereft of  a number of health code protocols.  I know WE didn't use those ill-fitted plastic glove-thingies OR hair nets -- unless you count the Dr. Seuss hats we were wearing as hair nets. 

Along the way to the culminating moment of chili judging, we also hit some other lows.... slightly inappropriate attempts to turn a stuffed Cat-In-the-Hat toy into a voodoo doll, eerily realistic-looking plastic cockroaches that *somehow* appeared on the lids of other contestants' chili entries, an impromptu acapella rendition of the "buy the world a Coke" song, and the shameless waving of a crumpled five dollar bill in the faces of the judges. 

Someone came by our classrooms later and excitedly reported to us that they thought they saw a ribbon on our table. 

Yeah, we know.  A blue one.  We put it there as a subconscious message to the judges that we deserved to win.