MadamBob:  100 duck-size horses, but I refuse to fight them.

Me:  You’d lay down and let them kill you or you’d rehabilitate them like pit bulls?

MadamBob:  The pit bull option.  I want to saddle break them so I can open a Barbie riding school.

Me:  You know, I used to have a cowgirl Barbie with white boots.  She’d look fantastic on a dick-size horse!

MadamBob:  Freudian-slip much?

Me:  Hahaha!  Lucky Barbie!  Oh, I need to get laid.  It’s creeping into normal conversation.

MadamBob:  I’ve been out of the madam business for quite some time.

Me:  All you people I’ve asked to set me up are being WAAAAY too picky!  Or you don’t think I can hide the weird long enough to make it through dinner with someone you’d have to face afterward.

MadamBob:  So even if I wouldn’t date them, you might?  Except Duff.  He’s great except all the ways he’s like my grandmother.

Me:  Uh YES!  And how’s he like your grandmother?

MadamBob:  Church, church and church.  And somehow I’m guessing he’s a turn off the lights, missionary kind of guy.

Me:  Actually, sometimes the churchy ones end up being the wildest behind closed doors.  And if not I’d just bring him over to the dark side or tell him to go in and get us seats while I park the car and then never come back.  Don’t judge me!  I’d leave him at church!

MadamBob:  I’m just not sensing that a spark would be there.  And he’d expect you to cook.

Me:  Either I’d learn to cook because I love him or he’d learn to cook because he loves me and refuses to eat rum cake for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  Why don’t think there’d be a spark?  Maybe he needs a little wildness and maybe I need to not cuss so fucking much.  It’s never going to be perfect.

MadamBob:  Just years of observation of you both.  And you’re right, it’s never perfect.

Me:  He and I locked eyes a few times at happy hour.  I wouldn’t have brought him up if I didn’t think there could possibly be something there.  You do realize when I’m on a date I don’t act like I do on Friday afternoons in the car, right?  I don’t swear and tell people to kiss my ass (not on the first date, probably), I don’t sing Highway to the Boner Zone and I don’t make up words for people who masturbate with squid that we also use as an expletive (mother squelcher!).

MadamBob:  Isn’t the first date the prime time to be yourself?

Me:  I’m not changing who I am for anyone, but I’m not letting it all hang out either.  Not on the first date, but if he can’t handle my weird silliness he’ll be on the curb so fast it’ll make his churcy head spin!

MadamBob:  Morgan Freeman help him.

Me:  I think he and I need to be put in a room together and see if there’s anything there.  And by “put in a room together” I mean meet casually at happy hour again or some other get-together where it’s just by chance.  Except it’s not.  Can you at least give me that much?

MadamBob:  I can definitely arrange a happy hour.

Me:  That’s all I ask.

MadamBob:  So, 100 duck-size horses or one horse-size duck?

Me:  Let’s get through happy hour and then we’ll decide how to raise the children.

MadamBob:  Hey, I’m just making “normal” conversation.

Thank you for the sweet email inquiring into my wellbeing and whereabouts. I assure you I’m fine and have not been sucked into a black hole. Or a worm hole. Or a donut hole.

Though that last one does sound delicious!

I haven’t been kidnapped by gypsies. Nor have I been honeymooning with Mike Rowe, giving motivational speeches about Nutella or doing time for driving a titanium spork through one of my PITA boss’s foreheads.

No, the truth is I’m so out of shape I threw my back out by…wait for it…SITTING!

Not. Even. Joking.

A couple of weeks after Star Wars Day I was taking a class and spent two days sitting on very hard, very uncomfortable wooden chairs, which caused two bulged disks and six weeks of agony. And it’s still not “right” but I can bend without screaming now, so that’s good, right?

Combine that with just the utter lack of anything interesting to blog about and here we are almost 7 months later! So, what (other than being laid up, and not in a good way) have I been doing all this time?

Not a whole hell of a lot.

Let’s see.

The car failed inspection so I had to get two tires replaced.

I had jury duty but didn’t actually get picked.

I bought a new curling iron, the first I’ve had in years, and keep burning the crap out of myself with it. I have a burn on the top of my right hand that looks like someone put a cigarette out on me.

At least that’s what I’ve been telling everybody.

What else?

Last week one of the PITAs screamed at me for a full 10 minutes because I didn’t give him the right size envelope.

This week he bit my head off because I got a dinner reservation for him and his wife RIGHT.

What else?

Oh! A couple of weeks ago MadamBob and I went to happy hour with some of her coworkers, a rare occurrence, and I downed two long islands and a Guinness before going to the bathroom and almost walking out with my skirt tucked into my fishnets. ALMOST. See, I wasn’t drunk!

Also, at said happy hour, I spent most of the night eyeing a guy MadamBob works with who’s very cute, a Simpson’s fan and clued us into the conspiracy to change everything lime flavored to sour apple. When we got in the car I immediately was like Hello! Why haven’t you mentioned him? To which she responded “He’s kind of churchy.” DUDE! He has a penis and a job! He’s perfect!

You see? Nothing interesting.

So, in conclusion, yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus…and he love me long time.

What were we talking about?

Oh right! Thank you Sue for the kick in the ass and Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Weenis.

SMH

[tags humor, Dear...]

Luke Skywalker:  What a piece of junk!

Han Solo:  She may not look like much, but she’s got it where it counts, kid.

*************************************************

Princess Leia:  Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?

*************************************************

Leia:  This is some rescue. You came in here and you didn’t have a plan for getting out?

Han:  He’s the brains, sweetheart!

*************************************************

Obi-Wan Kenobi:  Mos Eisley spaceport. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.

************************************************

C3PO:  I suggest a new strategy, R2. Let the wookie win.

*************************************************

Darth Vader:  I find your lack of faith disturbing.

*************************************************

Obi-Wan (using the Jedi Mind Trick):  These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.

*************************************************

Han:  Get in there you big furry oaf, I don’t care what you smell!

*************************************************

Han:  Where did you dig up that old fossil?

*************************************************

Leia:  Would somebody get this big walking carpet out of my way?

*************************************************

Han:  Wonderful girl. Either I’m going to kill her or I’m beginning to like her.

*************************************************

Darth Vader:  The force is strong with this one.

*************************************************

Me:  May the force be with you.

HAPPY STAR WARS DAY!

Soliciting people to register for a chance to win a free massage.

Fighting the urge to bolt.

Maybe I’m not enough into the mood.

Or drinking enough beer.

Or showing enough boob.

One of those.

Hmmm…

Interwebz? Is that you?!

*hug*

How long has it been? Oh, who cares, you look fantastic! Have you lost weight?

Well, I don’t know what you’re doing but keep it up because damn!

Wait a minute, something’s different. Something…

*gasp*

You met somebody, didn’t you?!

Don’t try to deny it. You’re in love, aren’t you?

Oh, that’s just fantastic! He must be something special because you are GLOWING!

Tell me all about him! How did you meet?

Oooo…those online dating sites can be tricky. The gynecologist who picks you up in a new car every week may turn out to be a valet who does “pelvic exams” out of the back of his van down by the river. You just never know.

What’s that? He’s a web designer? What a fabulous match for you, Interwebz!

I’m so happy you found someone.

*sniff*

That’s just wonderful.

Me?

Oh, nothing special. Same old thing, you know, get up, go to work, get coffee for the boss and try not to spit in it, work, work, work, try not to jab a spork in a coworker’s eye who won’t quit singing and humming, work, feed the dogs, try not to cry and drive directly to a shelter to get another 8 or 9 of them every time the SPCA commercial comes on, walk the dogs, sleep, repeat.

The usual.

What’s the matter? Oh, don’t worry, I’m fine. Just stuck in a bit of a rut.

I have, however, rekindled my love of needle felting, so that’s good. I don’t know why I ever stopped; I mean the whole process is basically a repeated stabbing motion. It’s very cathartic.

But yeah, yeah. I’m good. I’m good. Reeeaaallly good.

Well…

*looks at wrist with no watch*

I should run. I’ve got, you know, wool to stab and…stuff.

Well, it was great to see you.

*hug*

Absolutely, we should get together sometime soon!

Just give me a call!

I’m around.

I’m always around.

Always around and waiting.

Waiting, waiting, waiting…

*awkward silence*

So. Right. Well, see you soon then.

*yelling over shoulder*

And you tell that web designer of yours he better treat you right or I’ll give him a virus!

*still yelling and walking*

I mean, not GIVE him a virus, but you know…

*sees the Interwebz look away and walk faster*

Ok. Ok then.

Call me!