I have a rather large bruise on my left shin. It’s about 6″ long. I remember in my head thinking, “I bet this is gonna bruise” but I don’t remember where I was or what I was doing when I said that, so I have no recollection of how I got it. That disturbs me, especially since I haven’t had any alcohol or crack in at least a week. (I’m kidding! I haven’t had alcohol in two weeks. [i make myself laugh])
On the way into work I suddenly wanted to write a post about how my dad is a conspiracy theorist and how he deduced that couples who carpool end up getting divorced. I was part of a couple who carpooled. I’m also left-handed and I think my dad knows some lefties who got divorced, so that really does nothing to disprove his point other than to say that lots of people with lots of life circumstances get divorced. But, just a word to the weary: If you feel like carpooling with your partner is a control mechanism please ponder that a while then bring it up. I had some pretty unpleasant fights about carpooling, the final of which ended up with me saying “FUCK OFF!” and slamming the car door. I wasn’t sure I’d be picked up from work that day…
If you’d like to keep your skin clear might I suggest that you not eat a bunch of chocolate and fried food? Because those will make you break out even if you’re old like me. I had chocolatey cookies, chocolatey Reese’s pb cup eggs, then mini veggie corn dogs, potato skins, mozzarella sticks, and mini egg rolls, all drenched in a thin layer of vegetable oil on a cookie sheet, yesterday and now my skin is attempting to revolt. I’m fighting the revolt. I’m not confident I’ll win. (See? I TOLD YOU I feed my body what it asks for. I’m not kidding about that. Appropriate dipping sauces for that dinner: Mustard, marinara sauce, and teriyaki mixed with Szechuan sauce. I know you wanted to know.)
Ripley whacked me in the face with her tail this morning, as in up over her head into my face, and it was all wet. I have no idea why it was all wet. It could have been water from a sink, or it could have been pee. I’m disturbed either way. I love my girls, will do anything for them, will gladly clean up their various messes when they have them (my favorite was making Ripley lie on her back while I cleaned smeary poop off her ass for 20 minutes with Cotonelle wipes a few months back and saying, “YOU STINK!” while she stared at me with her “Mama, I loooooove you” eyes), but I guess I don’t really enjoy being hit in the face with wet tail. And this confirms that I am glad I got the braces instead of the Lasik, because if I didn’t have glasses on I would have had wet tail eyes this morning instead of wet tail glasses.
I just looked down on my office floor and saw a milk ring. Obviously when I drank that bottle of milk I forgot I wasn’t home and threw the milk ring on the floor for the kittos. So sad…
I spent all weekend thinking I saw Georgie out of the corner of my eye. Granted, I was at a place where pets were allowed, but pets require a $300 deposit and a non-refundable $25/day/pet fee. So, you KNOW I didn’t bring the kittos with me. They were fine with two ginormous bowls of water, a cup of water, two ginormous bowls of food, and a litter-chocked litter box.
I had an Americano this morning. I am now drinking the iced Americano. I really need to pee. Bye. 
Yeah, not clue as to what was that 6 inches “thing” mysteriously whacking you in the shin…
Sounds like you had fun.
Mikey, give my regards to Africa. And this comment was DIRTY!!!! I assure you that however I did get this bruise has nothing to do with the dirtiness in your mind.
If you poke a bruise suddenly and hard enough to hurt, it will jog your memory enough to remember how you hurt it.
And if you had gotten lasik, you would have seen the attack coming and would have been able to dodge it.
I don’t feel right in the morning until I’ve been smacked with pee-soaked cat fur.
I think it was chloroform. Or supposed to be and she got the wrong bowl. She was trying to put you to sleep to steal all that you own. And put a funny hat on you. Cats are mockers.
Pat, I hit my bruise kinda hard and ALMOST remembered. Psyching myself up to hit it harder.
Fab, I believe that about you.
Creature, now I’m realizing that having a magical door in the bathroom might be to my detriment.
You still owe me for the crack rock, BTW.
I eat whatever, too. I will never, ever, ever diet!
I used to work with AND carpool with my husband - before we were married! It’s a miracle that some days I didn’t kill him (or him kill us with his road rage)!
Anyway, now at least you have a new toy to take home to the kitties!
I am so glad you’re back! I was checking in all weekend. Which means I missed your posts but also that I have NO life! Now THAT is sad. :(
Sybil, I definitely enjoyed the break from the blog. Really, next time I go away (there will be a next time) you should jump into the archives. It’s a lot of fun in there!
Pat, update: I pressed on it harder and harder as many times as I dared, but I still couldn’t come up with the moment I hurt myself. I know I was alone, but every time I press it I get a trigger of an event where I was with someone else. I’m starting to wonder if this bruise is just all in my head…
I don’t get the pee dampened tail… but occasionally, I do get the leash dragged through poop… which is charming in its own right. Particularly when Cinnamon jumps up on the bed and drags the poop across my sheets. Ahhh, I know how to live, eh?