The Happiest Halloween is a Drunk Halloween

I've dressed up in many different costumes over the years, but one of my favorites was when I stole borrowed scrubs and sterile gloves and masks and other OR gear from the hospital I was working in during college and bought some fake blood and dressed up as a surgeon.  I drank a lot cuz it was college, so you know, that's a given, then walked around drunk off my no longer sterile ass with a bottle of vodka in one hand and a can of beer in the other shouting, "GUYS.  I've gotta be in surgery in FIFTEEN MINUTES."  Then I'd giggle like a fucking idiot because I thought it was hilarious to announce that.  Repeatedly.  Like a bad punch line that only I found funny.  Over and over and over.  I pretty much looked and acted like I walked straight off the set of Grey's Anatomy, all dramatic and surgeoned up and shit.  Minus McSteamy or McDreamy or McFly, whoever's on that show.

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Spooked

Halloween is fast approaching, and I must admit that this is my very favorite time of year.  I love the weather in the fall.  The leaves changing and falling, the cool breezes, night freezes that beg for the fireplace to be turned on.  I love the pumpkin-carving, apple-picking, pie-baking, trick-or-treating traditions that lead seamlessly into the holidays of family: Thanksgiving and Christmas.  This is definitely my most favorite time of year.
I also love to be scared.  I love ghost stories and horror movies and all things supernatural.  This started when I was a very little girl with my first scary movie viewing: Poltergeist.  I was in the third grade.  Barely 9 years old.  And I fell in love with the paranormal immediately.

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Something Very, Very Bad Has Happened and I'm Very, Very Scared So Hold Me.

People.
I can no longer find cheeseburger-flavored Doritos in ANY of my local stores. NONE.  They have completely disappeared.
What the FUCK has happened?
Did some freedom-hating terrorists snatch them all up and steal the secret recipe?
Do the Doritos people suddenly hate me, therefore hate America?
It is my Constitutional right to purchase and eat cheeseburger Doritos and I can't find them anymore and I'm scared.

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It's Practically a Study in Effective Marital Relationships.

I thought it'd be fun to again showcase some of the amazing and healthy marital communication that occurs in my house on a regular basis.  We're basically like loving newlyweds who can't get enough of each other. It's quite clear in how we speak to each other.  Actually, how I speak to him. Also?  The older the Hubby gets, the more perverted he gets.  Are all men like this ladies?
Effective Communication Example A

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Don't Call Me Monica

Guys, I've probably mentioned this before but I wanted to bring it up again so I have witnesses and my story is air tight.  I can only assume that my blog is monitored by the CIA for reasons of top secret national security, so it's better to be safe than sorry.
The President is clearly in love with me.
Proof?  You betcha.

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Uterus, You're Fired!

This week's theme over at Cheesy Bloggers is performance reviews.  Since the theme is my idea, I've gotta do a post on the topic, right?  I've decided that it's time for a serious sit down with my uterus to discuss her sorry, sad performance during the past couple of years.  I think it's time for her to face the music.Uterus, you've done great things for me.  Twice you've been an invaluable asset to the body by housing and protecting two amazing little girls.  You took them both willingly, each on the first try.  You have a cervix of steel that takes FOUR days to dilate to a FIVE, which is a tad excessive, but hey, you were protecting our littles, keeping them baking until just right. I know the csection cuts weren't the best way to manage things, but that's the way it had to be.  The pelvis let you down, I know that, but we've gotta work as a team. 

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My Cats are Pretty Much Useless.

I'm trying to train my cats to rub my feet but since cats are selfish assholes animals, it hasn't been going too well.  For instance, they don't appreciate when I take their little paws and show them how to do a kneading motion even though I KNOW they know how to do that because they do it all the time as kittens.  Apparently they don't like being made to do anything against their will.  So then I tried to get them to rub my feet passive-aggressively by pushing them down on the floor and rubbing them on their backs and tummies with my feet.  I figured hey, win-win, we both get massages, but alas, again, they don't like being made to do anything they don't put their own minds to.  Next came bribery, because as all human and animal trainers know, living things will do pretty much anything for a reward, especially when it's a delicious food reward. But my asshole cats simply ate the treats and ran away. It's like they don't love me or care about my feelings at all.  I don't want to have to do it, but I will seriously consider withholding all love, affection, treats, and water until they start to cooperate.  If that's what it's gonna take to get a damn foot rub in this house, then I will do it.

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