Welcome to My Life

7:53:54 PM EDT

Warning: This entry is not for the faint of heart. Or for the heartily faint.   This blog post deals with real issues of carelessness, frivolity and one case of near-death maiming of a well-liked body part. 

Still reading?

All right - but it's your own eyeballs that may need a'scrubbin':

 

The other day, in the bright and shiny very inviting aisles of Target I purchased a $20.00 bottle of lubrication for one's nether regions.  The commercials were intriguing as they promised "Yours + Mine" would equal any number of earth-shattering endings. And me, being the adventurous sort was ready to try it.  Oh, who am I kidding - I was really just hoping that "Yours - Mine" would equal instant o-gasms. No fuss, no muss and no sweaty, tangled hair to deal with afterwards.

Sunday night, as midnight looomed and the workday steadily approached like a beacon in a cubicle-clad nightmare I leaned over my husband and said - "So, c'mon - let's do it."

This was my sexy-talk way of asking for a round of coital bliss followed by watching the rest of "Iron Chef." That last part was implied, of course.

"Wow, honey.  You sure do know how to make a guy feel special..."  Harry muttered as I poked at his man panties.  Which, of course, what he was really saying was "Oh, yeah, baby, let's do it!  And then watch Bobby Flay win the Blue footed Chicken challange."

"Yay! You're ready!"  I exclaimed, kinda amazed that he was able to keep a straight face, much less anything else, as I hovered around him like a spacecraft armed with the bottle of "Yours."  I unceremoniously dumped the contents on him and flopped back on the bed. 

"My turn!"  Harry slowly ambled toward me and - emptied half the bottle.  Some got on the intended area.  The rest just soaked into the bed.  

"That feels - weird."  No - it didn't feel weird.  It felt - burning.  But I didn't want to tell Harry that. I mean, I had already been dubbed horribly unromantic by my hubby so the idea of telling him that our very expensive lubrication was not only enducing waves of panic from his wife but that she was also on FIRE!

And that's when it happened.  "Yours" met "Mine" and I can tell you that the product lives up to it's promise of a night you will never forget because I'm positive Harry will never forget me screaming "OH DEAR GOD! IT FEELS LIKE BEN GAY! ON MY PRIVATE REGIONS!  BEN GAY - IN BAD SPOTS!!!!"

Or the sight of me waddling from the bed, each rub of my thigh causing more flames to erupt like a 1970's drapery and hiking one leg up on the sink and trying to wipe away the hurt with a tiny white washcloth. 

When that didn't work I grabbed the spray bottle that we keep on the basin and started spritzing myself with it.   It was like trying to put out an inferno with a squirt gun - and all the while Harry's leaning in the doorway, naked and noticeably NOT on fire while I continue to do everything but stop, drop and roll away my pain.  

"Who told you about this stuff, anyway?" he asked as I dove into the shower and directed the head downward. 

"Summer did!  She said it was great!" I poked my head out of the shower and said "I hate her."  

She later said that she had actually not tried KY's "Yours + Mine" before but thought it looked fun.   And I, being the lovely sister that I am, offered her our leftovers.

After all, all's fair in love, war and not-so-personal lubricants.

 

                                     

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9:12:02 PM EDT

                                

That, my dear friends, is what happens when you THINK you are setting the timer on your microwave and are, instead, setting the microwave, on high power for FIFTEEN MINUTES. 

I kept noticing an odd smell. 

A horrible, putrid, chocolate-tinged smell but I plundered on, posting feeds on pageant forums about the upcoming Pumpkin Festival and Hot Dog Festival galas (oh yeah - I'm lookin' for a Hot Dog Queen!).  

Finally I popped my head up and looked over the top of my lap top to see the microwave lit up like a Christmas tree and a poor, defenseless, giant cupcake - shut up in the microwave for safe keeping, positively sizzling on the top rack. 

I ran to the microwave and tossed the plate from the unit to the sink in one un-Holly-like-graceful gesture.   I ran water over it and gave myself the first ever steaming cupcake facial. 

And then I took a picture.  Of course.

And what has this ordeal taught me? 

That a leftover cupcake is a dangerous cupcake.  :)

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10:21:06 PM EDT

Captain Hammer, the hero of "Dr. Horrible's Sing-along Blog" is now in comic-form for all to see! (Sometimes you'll have to hover your mouse on the lower right corner of the "comic" to get to the button that says "next page" - just keep clicking it will move on -promise!).

                                         

Soon enough the webisodes will be posted and we'll be able to see and, dare I say it?  Sing along, too!

Here's the details for those who care - and for those who don't - shame on you!

Creator Joss Whedon has announced the "air" dates for Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog.  The episodes will air on the official website drhorrible.com as follows:

• Part 1 - Tuesday July 15
• Part 2 - Thursday July 17
• Part 3 - Saturday July 19

These episodes will "air" online only until July 20.

Following that they will be made available for download at a "nominal fee" and in the near future available to buy on a very special DVD "with the finest and bravest extras in all the land".

Now it's time to spread the word far and wide to all the corners of the interweb.  Grab some banners from the official site and post them everywhere you go - and be sure to cover those places people wouldn't normally hear about this.

This is your chance to play a part in changing the face of the entertainment industry forever.

Joss Whedon: "[Do] what you always do, peeps! What you're already doing. Spread the word. Rock some banners, widgets, diggs… let people know who wouldn't ordinarily know. It wouldn't hurt if this really was an event. Good for the business, good for the community –communitIES: Hollywood, internet, artists around the world, comic-book fans, musical fans (and even the rather vocal community of people who hate both but will still dig on this). Proving we can turn Dr Horrible into a viable economic proposition as well as an awesome goof will only inspire more people to lay themselves out in the same way. It's time for the dissemination of the artistic process. Create more for less. You are the ones that can make that happen."

How cool is that?!

I'm giddy.

Which is better than my mood yesterday afternoon when I found myself sitting next to the crotchety ol' muppets from the balcony of "The Muppet Show" and downwind from the person who decided that deoderant was really not on the agenda for the day.  Or the week.  Maybe the month.   But I still enjoyed "Hancock" - even with my sweater pulled up to my eyeballs!

Today was spent doing important tasks like internet surfing and baking giant cupcakes.  Yes.  You read that right. Cupcakes of Giant Proportions. Some assembly required as you bake the tops separately from the bottoms but still, it was fun. Harry is never happier than when I'm baking.  No, really. I could be standing in our bedroom with a duster in one hand and the vacuum  in the other and his response would be "Oh. You went with 'cleaning', huh?  Where're my cookies?"  

Okay - it's getting late and I still have oodles to do (total lie - I'm going to www.x17online.com to see who is boinking who in Hollywood - cuz I'm that shallow) and  I'm still a bit traumatized from my Wal-mart trip earlier in which we followed a lovely Jaguar up the hill with its WV hunting plate on the back and, no doubt, going in to cash some food stamps in on a scorpion-tainted watermelon.  Yup - only in my town...

 

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2:50:35 PM EDT


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1:04:46 PM EDT


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6:58:35 PM EDT Now that I'm feeling perkier - it's Picture time! 
Some recent  (and not too recent) pics that MUST be shared!

Harry made me a book from him and Phoebe for our anniversary.  I made him this:
and ended up more than a little rainbow-colored by the end of the night!    But he loved it- and - heck - I found out that I can actually draw a car!   A CAR!   And it looks purty darn good if I do say so myself.  :)


    I love Blenko glass.  Say it with me "Taste the Rainbow!"


Blenko shark's teeth!  Cool! Yeah - we bought one.  :)


I got new glasses!  Yup  - so sis plucked them from my face and declared "Man!  You're blinder than me now!" with glee.  Gee, thanks sister-who-is-now-dead-to-me.   That's okay though - she stood up to see how she looked in them and promptly clotheslined herself  on the top of the table's umbrella! 

Pot Pals! Now on sale at your craft store!   No more buying it from skanky men  and women who consider hygiene an optional part of life!
Yay!


Harry Simpson!



I'm doing much better - thanks to all who wrote to me to make sure I was alive.
I am!
And just in time for cookouts galore!
Anyone got any cool plans for the Fourth?  Just blowin' crap up and expanding your waistline?  Me too!!!!!

:)




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1:02:39 PM EDT Chicken Sandwich - 1
Holly eating solid Foods again - 0

Oh well, I tried.  It just didn't work out as well as I had planned.  I'm obviously home from work today and trying very hard not to be sick and to not freak out too much about what made me sick and why I had little red dots all over my face last night that are still there today.

I work in a place where we serve real honest-to-God humans so it's very possible I contracted something there.  But why in the world would it show up on a Sunday?

Anyhoo - I'm babbling due to lack of brain power from not having any food.  And we all know my stance on junk food equaling creativity.  It's the combo of sugar and grease - it's what the geniuses of times gone by would've used if Opium and prostitutes weren't so widely available.

Whew...  floor spinning - back to bed I go... 



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7:52:46 PM EDT

The morning was wonderful.  Harry and I slept in, had a little fun and then he made me lunch - gorgeous and thick burgers with real bits of garlic and Crazy Jane's Mixed-up Salt (sooo good!).   We ate heartily and I finished by making a beautiful salad of orange and purple cauliflower with bright green broccoli to take to the non-cookout party that mom and dad were throwing us for our fifth anniversary.

The salad was made, the pizzas were ordered and the cake was ready to be picked up.

And then it hit me.  I couldn't breathe.  I looked around wildly and helplessly for the elephant that had to have been perched on my chest.  My stomach clenched, my ears hollowed out and my face burned.  I was freaking out and didn't know what was wrong.  

"Hold me," I said as Harry lept from his couch to mine and rubbed my back. 

"Do you want to lay down?" he asked.   And I, grateful that he didn't ask if I needed to remove my panties, said, "No - I think - yeah - maybe if I throw up?"

So I did. Multiple times.   And then spent a good hour shivering afterwards.

Not sure what happened there.   

And no - not preggers.  Positive there. (Negative? Whatever -ya'all get what I mean.)

So now I am on the couch and looking up stuff on WebMD.  Here's hopin' it was a bug - cause that salad I made is just too pretty not to eat.  Ugh.  Eventually...

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10:21:15 PM EDT

My would-be delivery date came and went.  I pretended not to notice it.  Pretended not to feel that itchy and prickling notion that was teasing the back of my brain.  I was hoping to forget.  I went to work, I came home, I laughed, I smiled, felt the grins reach my eyes but still waited for the day to be over. 

No one really said anything and we pretended it didn't matter even though I knew that it kinda did. Hallmark just doesn't make cards that say "Sorry your fetus died - but have a great day!" or "You would've been a great mom - buckup and have fun trying again!" or even a "Miscarriage?  It's okay - you would've dropped it on its head anyway..." But really - they should make those cards  - especially for those of us with wildly inappropriate senses of humor.

However, my sister, the one who has always been there for me through nightmares about people putting tape on my head (not sure, either) and rubbed my legs when I struggled with the beginning of a rather complicated and long-winded lympatic disorder and she who seems to always forget things as soon as they are shoved into her already over-crowded, ADD-riddled brain dropped off a tiny pink package at my  house. 

There, in front of my television (where she knew I wouldn't miss it!) was this little gift bag with crisp white paper poking from it.   A note tucked inside was written on with her flailing scrawl: 

A butterfly lights beside us, Like a sunbeam and for a brief moment its glory and beauty belong to our world... but then it flies on again and although we wish it could have stayed, we aer so thankful to have seen it at all...

Another note read:

Sometimes miracles arrive so tiny that we cannot feel the weight of them and yet we are still cahnged and we are blessed none the less.

A small box was cradled within the pink bag.   Inside was a round mother of pearl necklace representing what would have been a new birthstone and a new title for me. 

It's one of the most wonderful and thoughtful gifts I've ever received and it made me realize, more than ever, how much I love my sister.

So even though there are no plans on the rather rainy horizon (really?  More rain?  Seriously - I am DONE with precipitation!) Harry and I have vowed to consider the possibility of trying for a Harry the IV within the next year.  And if it doesn't stick that time, well, I'm sure I can adopt one from another country.. or from Brad and Angelina - I'm sure they won't miss one of theirs...

 (Me, Tiff and Sis)

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8:31:12 PM EDT

Harry and I bought our first house right before we got married.   It was three stories, had lots of white walls, carpets and cabinets and it was ours!  Wasn't too long, however, that we realized we had no frickin' clue how to run a house.   We had a yard with no lawn mower and a big bed with no sheets.

Eventually, though, we figured things out through guessing and sheer dumb luck.   And more than a few tubs of spackle (not on the bed or on the lawn - but ya know - for when we painted and - uh stuff. Oh, never mind!).

So you can only imagine my surprise when one day, about a year or two after we moved in, I noticed that the air conditioner was only mildly blowing from the vents.  I adjusted the temperature and the fan settings.  Nada. 

Mustering up my pluck, I picked up my phone and called Robert, my ex-boyfriend who could probably take apart an AC unit and reassemble it blindfolded like one of those Rubick's Cube geniuses.

"Robert!  My air isn't working!  Well, it's cold - but it's barely blowing!"

After his initial sniggering came to an end he said thoughtfully: "Hmm... Well, when was the last time you changed your filter?"

I stopped with one hand still held over the vent.  "Filter?" I repeated.  "If I were this 'filter' thing - where would I be located?"

"Holly!"  he yelled into the phone.

"What?!  I grew up in a house where central air meant opening two windows on either side of room.  When we got fancy we'd stick a fan in the middle!"

"Go change your filter."

"But I don't wanna go outside!"

"Holly.  Listen carefully.  Go downstairs, look for a small door.  Find your air conditioning unit.  Pull the handle and pull out the filter.  Put in a new one."  His sarcasm was not well hidden.

So I did what he said.  I went downstairs, squealed at the single dead bug that had keeled over in the middle of the closet and made him stay on the line as I huffed and hemmed and hawed and further cemented his belief that our breaking up was one of the best things that had ever happened in his new (much more bland) life.

That being said, I have been diligent-esque about changing the filter.  So when Harry and I went to the evil Home Depot the other night and came home with two new allergen-reducing overpriced filter I told him to put them at the top of the stairs.  Putting things at the top or bottom of the stairs is code for "take me with you" when anyone traverses said stairs.  He picked them up and left the kitchen.

I followed two minutes later and noticed the filters leaning against the doors to the basement.   But where was Harry?  He wasn't in the bedroom and he wasn't in the tv room - so where was he?

"Harry?  Harry?!"  I called.

"Yeah?"  he answered - from downstairs!

"WHAT THE HELL?!"  I yelled as he busted out laughing and sheepishly peeked around the corner of the stairs.   "WHY WOULD YOU GO DOWNSTAIRS AND NOT TAKE THE FILTERS WITH YOU?!" 

He was red-faced and bouncing off the furniture now as he continued to laugh at my outrage over his lack of carrying the filters to the lower floor.  

"Oh that's too funny!"  he said as he continued into the bedroom and into the bed.

"You put them at the TOP of the stairs but you didn't take them with you downstairs?" I was flabbergasted.

"Yup," he said, putting one farmer's tanned arm behind his head and leaning back on the headboard.  "I left them at the top so that I'd remember to change it tomorrow."

His logic was so flawed and infuriating all I could do was stare.  And then laugh. 

After five years of marriage he still makes me laugh.   And want to kill him.  All at the same time.

Aint love grand?!

And - because I have to keep up the front of me being the biggest geek ya'all know - I bring you the link to a new Joss Whedon project :  Dr. Horrible's Sing-along Blog!   

So excited!

Teaser from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog on Vimeo.

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