Never let a blonde bbq

My dad tries to cook now really does.i never learned to cook from my mom,because she cant smell. Can't smell the smoke, but knows the food is done when the fire alarm goes off. Now that mom and dad aren't together, dad started to cook again for himself. This was fun when we were still in school... A college student that couldn't cook, an 8 year old that wanted to help, and a 12 yr old that just wanted to play his guitar and get a nice blue Mohawk at 12 inches high, and my dad. I didn't really learn to cook like him either, so I cant say I can even cook still

His idea of cooking is to put everything on high heat. It cooks quicker that way, he said.mm charcoal crusted London blues. The inside still moos. He blew up one or two propane grills. I think he singed his eyebrows on one.never use a full can of lighter fluid AND propane gas to light charcoal. It will blow the lid off the grill. Makes a nice fireworks display though.steaks are crunchy in patches, mostly done in others.despite that, the marinade used makes them quite tasty corn looks like some sort of special effects monster. And baked potatoes explode "well you know they're done the tway" fat drippings make beautiful 18 inch high pillars of flame, so your arms come out as toasty as the steaks., well, the steaks don't smell like old ladies hair salons. But you do learn to get an iron cast stomach if you eat the food for extended periods, moms or dads.

my dad also hates bugs. I think he has some napalm left over from Vietnam,which he used around the perimeter of every house we ever owned. The smell alone made you nauseous for a couple hours. That is the strength of this stuff. If that doesn't kill them, he also has set up ant traps, and fly traps around the basement and odd places in the house. I think he wouldn't have to worry about mosquitoes if he used the screens in the windows, instead of taking them out and opening the windows. Flies, should he catch them, become"walks" to teach them not to fly in his house again. June bugs became the honored guest of the hamster, who had them for dessert. Spiders were killed on site, because of a nasty bite one of us got once. It seems that brown recluses like us.

now before you think we are the Adams family or the munsters, we do NOT have cobwebs, or dust...Well we always had dust, and dad still does have dust. He complains about dust in his garage and basement constantly, while vacuuming. Oh and dad only had a dog, not a dragon, and the dog never lived under the stairs. Until recenly the dog came and went in and out of the house as he pleased. Until he pooed in the hallway. I ended up having to go clean it up. Dad got green. So while he was out I found his cleaners and brought over my simple solution to eliminate the odor, put on my gloves, and cleaned the ivory carpet. The dog needs some immodium ad is all I can say.

the dog is now outside only.murphy got to him too. I think this will last a week.... Dads a softie with animals, and well behaved children. He attracts both like flies to honey. You cant miss him, some animal is on his shoulder or some kid is hitching a ride on his foot, their arms around his tree trunk legs. He complains the whole time. hes tried being mean, but it doesn't phase either. So usually hes there somewhere...Dragging his leg avec rugrat and hamster. Trying to get to his garage to tinker on his vette or play with his power tools, as any manly man would. cussing a blue streak at his clumsiness. Sounding like Walter from the Jeff Dunham skit.

I smell burning hair.

CATS AND GLIDERS

I will never have kids. This is because I own three sugar gliders and a cat.Two gliders I rescued, one I bought. They are spoiled brats, and still don't like me. Understandable; not many people like me anyway. People dontlike to hear what I have to say. I think the gliders have just been too longon their own and have corrupted my sweet little glider girl. When I brought the baby glider home, she made a game of trying to bite me. And I thought it was cute because she couldn't even pinch my tender skin on my hands. Now she tries to draw blood, and has almost succeeded on many occasions. I can only let them play when I have the cat in the carrier, but the cat is Siamese those of you that don't know, Siamese are VERY vocal.and the gliders delight in playing "lets run away and harass the cat" when they are out of their five foot cage. So the cat howls more.

The cat, although Siamese, I must admit is really a Siamese pointed munchkincat.One of his many endearing traits that accompany howling is his ability to hide my name badge for work. Yes, he secrets my stuff away in his little kitty hidey hole. I still to this day have not found out where in my room he hides all my shine or important stuff. BUT, yes another but! When he thinks I stop looking for something, it will magically appear in the middle of the floor- staring up at me, and mocking me. He's my little magpie. A magpie that you toss on his back and scratch his tummy, a magpie that sounds very human when he huffs out a distressed yawn while trying to sleep. A mag pie that flops on my curved arm as if it were a pillow and fluffs it, moving me and him until he is comfortable on his back with paws in the air. When he is really crashed, he sticks his tongue out a little as if he is a child deep in thought. My sister crept in and took pictures of both of us on our backs,crashed, him with paws in air and tongue out, me with do rag and mouth agape....Probably snoring too. A chick that admits to snoring...hmm..Interesting huh?

This is also the same cat that will bite my toes at 3:00. Even through socks and a nice comforter. I hear you asking "why are your animals so violent?"maybe because I am so passive to them. I dunno. Its not like I hit them or anything. With the exception of yelling no, I rarely have to raise my voice, and simple commands the cat will *sometimes* follow of his own accord. "fetch" and sic/get it seem to be his favorite. A cat that fetches.Had he liked baths, I would have sworn he wasn't a cat, but something else trapped in a cat. He usually tires of fetching after a dozen times, and quits bringing whatever we play with back to me. He doesn't do well around other people, but then again, I rarely have people over. I am antisocial,and strive to one day become the goofy old ladies that talk to their 48 cats in a one bedroom house. Really. And stuff.

My cat becomes distracted by the TV, simply because I am hard of hearing (yes at my young age, and not from concerts!) and turn it up along with adding the closed captioning. The gliders, however, love to watch cowboy bebop. And as soon as adult swim is over ( if I am home to watch it) they quit hanging on the side of the cage closest to the TV and burrow back in their pouches while I watch late night CNN, or some movie. I wouldn't be surprised if one day my eyeliner has been used to scrawl " turn down volume"or "more spike" on my walls. Or that both my gliders and my cat have used them for spears. I would hate to explain that to the vet. " well they were just playing while I was at the store, and I came home to find my cat stabbed with eyeliner pencils, and attached to the glider cage was 'I have your g/f...Bring me your monkey biscuits or she dies' so I can only assume things got out of hand." if I could only draw....

I dread the time that I have to fix my little cat. He is about 6 months, andi don't want him to spray. Hopefully this will calm him down a little too.Let me explain why. I have two dressers,one on top of the other, and they make an L shape.The TV sits in the hole where the L is. A short hop from that is one of my windows, under the far part of the window are two plastic stearlite storage drawers that are nearly the height of the base of the window (about three Ft) and my mini fridge after those, then my bed, the other window at the side of the foot of my bed, and the glider cage in the corner a few feet from the window and the foot of my bed. This covers the u shape my cat likes to use as a drag strip. Yes, he thinks he's a nascar driver, sans the car. Right as I nod off to sleep..vroooom! thumpaty thump bonk thud. Then vroom ! Back. If I can stand it, he will tire in 30 -45mins.i have been tempted to raise my hand to see him smack into it like a cartoon, but haven't yet, as I think I would no longer have a hand at the speed he is going. He needs a cat sized hamster wheel. The leash and collar harness thing is too big for him still, and I think he has reached his full size. And he does not like dogs at all. And yes, there is a HUGE lab two doors up. He freaks out, despite the breeder telling me he does well with dogs. Oh well, she saw me coming. Who needs kids, I have my hands full.


maybe ill buy him a cat helmet. I don't have vet insurance in case hecrashes.

My brother should not wear certain clothes

love him dearly, and have always been there to help dye his liberty spikes, twist and shape his mohawks, and clean the sink when I wasn't there to dye it for him. I now have many colorful formerly white towels. My brother the artist. He seems to not care what people think, and wears or dresses as he feels that day. Sometimes even to work. Its nice to know he can make sweet Julia child looking Argentinean ladies laugh.But still, even with the laughs, he should not wear his pink "grandmas shouldn't be so sexy" t-shirt in public.He also should not go outside just as the sun is coming up in light colored boxers.I can only imagine how many nosey old ladies with binoculars he has given heart attacks.Maybe they wont be up at three am looking at my house if I ask him to do that here ...hmm.. It doesn't help that he is Saran-wrap man. No matter how much you feed him it disappears like air. I have given up trying to stuff him with high calorie foods.It seems Murphy has gotten to him too. The more he eats, the more weight he loses. He CAN cook, and is very good at it.Except when he chops his fingers off or slivers the skin off. Food just isn't as appetizing with an index finger sticking up out of the middle of the creamy mashed potatoes. At least it wasn't the middle finger. He has changed with his new girlfriend though. He went from a pseudo gothic punk look to this gap prep look. Shaved his head. Mind you, I have shaved my head (ill tell you some day) and neither of us have reeeally good heads to show off our shiney baldness. But guys do look better that way than girls. I think he shaves his head because we have been unsuccessful in dying his birthmark. He has a spot on his head where the hair grows stark white, as compared to a dirty blonde. It wont take dye all that well, even the nice normal colors. Hes self conscious. Frankly its cute. So every so often I come home to find clippers and a mass of fuzzy hair in my sink, on my counter, and on my bathroom floor. He's getting better though, he gets most of it into the trash or toilet. Its interesting to watch hair fuzz flush. By the way, if you ever have any neighbors you hate that have a pool. Fur, and hair... That's all I can say. Lots of it. I think of black bears taking a swim. Or Harry and the Hendersons.

Not Norman Bates

He did it again. There I sit blissfully ignorant until once again, Murphy interferes. I know, you all are now wondering; who the *(^^* is Murphy?! Murphy's Law, not to be confused with Norman Bate's late mother. I am genetically susceptible to Murphy's Law. I got infected at a very young age, three if I remember right. I was told not to touch the red burners on the stove b/c they were hot. Murphy steps in to suggest that if they become black, then aren't they NOT hot at that point? *buzzer* WRONG. At the tender age of three I learned what a second and third degree burn was. I also learned NOT to trust in Murphy, for I would always succumb to hardship. But Murphy has become tricky, and you when you begin to second guess, you lose. Point in case: soapmaking. It cant be that hard, right? NOT! I have learned that lye is much more caustic than I thought, and have a new appreciation for soapmakers. Never let a flaky blonde near caustic materials and heating implements. Heck, don't let her do anything. Especially if she thinks Murphy's Law is bound to give her a break, like I thought. I found out I have VERY sensitive skin. What started as a simple jaunt for fun and to give a homemade gift has become the treck up the Mt Everest. Never trust hobby stores to have what you need in stock or cheap. Heck don't trust them period. Never forge ahead in soapmaking without a recipe or instructions. And never assume you can make soap petals without a mold. Now I am anxiously awaiting real soapmaking supplies, and will endeavor to complete this task before Christmas, where I hope to gift my friends with non-life threatening soaps. I shall overcome the weakness that is me. Someday. Somehow. My sister (ten years my junior) insists I let her try shock therapy- while holding the frayed ends of a 220. She loves to help.I always wonder how someone so beautiful could have a sadistic streak wider than me, and towards their own family no less. But it keeps things going I guess. Never dull.
Meanwhile, I'll try not to stand in water around my sister.

Yes, The Gods ARE Crazy

They must be, to allow me to see what I do everyday. They are not without a sense of humor also. Usually it's just crackpots hitting on me, and I gently as possible tell them that I am not interested in a boyfriend right now, and pray that the restraints on the hospital bed keep them securely to the bed. But, the other day, it was witnessing my dad's tumble.

Don't get me wrong, my dad has always been above average physically. He also has a high tolerance for pain: much of which comes from a hard childhood he has overcome. I love him dearly, but now understand that Murphy must be a genetic thing. Let me explain further.
My dad has a riding lawnmower, and a very steep graded lot. Normal people would hire someone to deal with this, but not my dad. Murphy likes to whisper in his ear that he can do it. He has done quite well until recently. While mowing the lawn, it happened. He was near the top, and as usual the POS WalMart mower was slipping out and into gear. Finally catching in gear for more than a nanosecond, it jerked. It takes alot to roll a lawnmower with a 220 lb man on it. I found out my dad can kick a lawnmower off of him after rolling with it down the hill. If it were a cartoon, it would have been hilarious. I have a new respect for my dad, and hope no one crosses him: he kicks very well from what I have seen.

He laid there for a moment, while I was screaming like an idiot to see if he was ok ( and if he could hear- hes hard of hearing too). He got up and told me to shut the heck up and he was ok. All while he was limping. He righted the mower, and cussed a blue streak that it fell on him and took him down the hill. Then he cussed a blue streak that the mower blades had tilled some of the grass up in foot long patches.

He was worried about the grass. I convinced him to return the mower for one that worked properly, and he did. After a week.

Now if I can just find some pest be gone spray for those restrained (and not restrained) to those hospital beds. Meanwhile, a Coke bottle drops from the sky into my front yard.

Call Me Murphy

You'd think that only teen angst ridden multitudes would flock to places here and post all their lives. I have found that people like me with no life, and no intention of getting one, are also finding solace in the arms of the electronic age. I thought I was too good to get on here. Then Murphy stepped in once again to assure me quite the opposite of what I thought to be true.

For example; EBAY. Yes, I am the evil that stalks the eBay web, looking to buy and sell. Recently I tried to sell a car. I repeat; TRIED. I have found that there are no laws governing a new crop of scammers. They state they have business in Africa, and will I accept a western union money payment. Sounds innocent there, but when you read more of the questions inundated in your mailbox, it gets shady. They want to send extra funds over and have you refund them the money. Sounds familiar. I know I may be blonde, but I am not totally without a whit of sense. I do not wish to be a part of this, and tell them no, but what happens??? Some idiot scammer uses Buy It Now and THEN asks me to do the same thing. I have made sure he is no longer able to bid, relisted my auction, and take solace in the fantasies of me actually finding the dufus and using a baseball bat until sense is rendered.

Ah the joys of fantasy. Now off to another post