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Archive for December, 2008

Giant bees with saws and other crap

posted on Monday, December 31st, 2008 under General Ramblings |

First, the other crap. Christmas was tolerable, I love my family and Mr. T’s, but it was still sad. Obviously. Moving on.

I got Raving Rabbids TV Party and can’t wait to play it all night tonight while drinking gin punch and eating spinach dip and cheese fondue from my new fondue pot. I call dibs on the pink food stabber! Obviously. Moving on.

The government is stupid ridiculous. I didn’t realized until today, when my coworkers were discussing it, that I never received my 2008 personal property bill. Why? As I found out, when I moved to STL county last year, I informed St. Charles of the move (so they didn’t send a bill) and then registered my car with my new addy at the DMV and with the city in which I live…but NONE OF THOSE DEPARTMENTS COMMUNICATE WITH STL COUNTY. Not a one. I didn’t know that I had to do something else to get my bill issued from the new county, but I was told today that, since none of the county, city or state government agencies communicate with each other, I have to write a letter to the county requesting my bill. So I did, and it was no big thing, but it’s still irritating that the agencies to whom we pay taxes every pay period can’t even manage to communicate. Government is wasteful and an unfortunately necessary evil. Obviously. Moving on.

The cops came to my house on Saturday. Not so obvious, not moving on. Here’s how it all went down:

Mr. T left around 4:30 to go help a friend with some stuff. That means I am home alone at night. As discussed in previous blog entries, I am scared of the dark and I believe that there is a serial killer living in our attic. These are important facts to remember.

So, I’m chilling in our bedroom, playing on the internet and watching TV at a ridiculously high volume in order to block out all the creepy settling noises our house makes. I have no idea that the winds have picked up to about 40-50 MPH outside. About a half hour after he leaves, I hear a noise in the kitchen that sounds like someone dropped something. Even Tedders heard it. But he’s a wuss like me and neither one of us investigated it. I assumed it was something weird (the cat was with me, too, so I couldn’t blame the animals), talked myself back to calm and continued with my evening.

About 20 minutes later, I hear a noise like nothing I have ever heard in my house before. It sounds like someone is in the house, sawing something. You know, like the killer in the attic was sawing through the floorboards for a surprise attack. We leave the TV on for the animals when we leave, and I’m pretty quiet, so he might have thought we were gone. Regardless, I freak out and begin to sweat with fear and panic. It happens again a few minutes later, and I grow balls big enough to allow me to check the back door and run to the front door to lock it (note to Mr. T: LOCK ME IN, FOR GOD’S SAKE!!!).

As I head back to the bedroom from the front door, I hear it again. It’s much louder in the kitchen and sounds like it is either coming from right below the kitchen window (from the outside), or from the attic. It’s dark outside and I’m alone, so I call Mr. T. No answer. I call about ten more times before I am sure that he doesn’t have his phone nearby. So I call the next person on my panic list – my mom. My mom who is way worse than me.

She answers and I tell her that I’m scared but don’t know what to do because I can’t reach T and am too scared to check it out myself. She insists I call the cops. NO WAY. That’s crazy talk. I mean, I’m probably being crazy anyway, so there’s no need to bring the law into this. She tells me if I don’t, she will and she’ll call 911 instead of the non-emergency line. I tell her I’ll call and hang up.

I call the non-emergency line and the following conversation ensues:

- St. John Police Department.

- Hi. I have a little issue. I am home alone, can’t reach my husband and hear a loud noise that sounds like a saw coming from somewhere in or around the house. It’s really probably nothing, and it’s definitely not an emergency, but I’m too scared to investigate myself. What do you suggest?

- Well, it might be the wind, but I’ll send someone to you to double check. What’s your name? [I give it.] Address? [I give it.] Date of birth? [I give it.] Okay, someone will be by in a few minutes.

- Okay, thanks. I feel stupid, but I appreciate it.

- No problem. Have a good night.

Okay, so I call mom back and tell her someone is on the way. She can hear the noise from her end of the phone and she understands why it is freaking me out. She stays on the line with me until the cops pull up. When they get to my door, they ask if Teddy is friendly and then come in. Before that even happens, I am aplogizing profusely for bothering them as it’s probably nothing. Keep in mind, the noise has happened intermittently for the past half hour. As soon as they pull up, the sound stops and never repeats while they are there. Just like taking your car to the shop. Figures. The next few minutes go like this:

- Good evening, ma’am. You are hearing something in the basement?

- No, now I think it’s either outside or in the attic. I’m so sorry, it’s probably nothing. I’m just a chicken.

- And what does it sound like?

At this point, I figure a good description is worth more than my guess as to what it is. So I say:

- It sounds like a giant bumblebee. I know, that sounds crazy. I’m not saying it IS a giant bumblebee, just that that’s an accurate description of the sound. That, or a saw.

- A chain saw?

- Well, more like a circular saw. A circular saw cutting wood.

- Okay. We’ll check out the attic.

Keep in mind that I NEVER go into the attic. It’s a walk-up attic and the stairs are covered with grocery bags that need to be recycled and our bags of dog food. And one of the handrails is broken. So they practically break their necks getting up there and I feel even worse. Obviously, they get up there and say that no one is there. They come back down, take my name and date of birth again and head to the front door. I apologize even more, insist that I’m not crazy and apologize again. They brush it off and tell me that if I get worried again, to just call and they’ll come back – that’s their job. But then, as they’re walking out, I hear the older cop say:

- It’s going to be one of those nights. *sigh*

Well, crap. So now there’s a file at the local police office showing that I’m a crazy person who hears things and is afraid of the dark. Not two minutes after they leave, the sound starts up again. No shit. So I lock the door, grab a butcher knife and a beer and head to the living room to watch TV. I called Mr. T and left a message telling him he was in SOOOO much trouble and the cops just left our house because he didn’t answer the phone to calm his crazy wife down. Then I saw that P.S., I Love You was on HBO. I’d not seen it yet, so I turned it on.

When T got home, he walked in to find me on the couch with a beer in one hand, a giant knife in the other, crying like a baby.

Good times, good times.

Happy freaking new year, everybody. Here’s hoping 2009 comes and goes with no one dying, calling the cops or telling anyone that a giant bumblebee with a saw is trying to get in her house. Good luck with the last one…

Tru dat

The wedding

posted on Monday, December 25th, 2008 under Gushy stuff |

So, I’m not big on posting pictures of myself. Not that I think I’m so important that someone might want to stalk me, but it’s a little weird for me to blog a bunch of random crap and then put a face to it. However, I’m actually quite proud of my wedding and figured I would cleverly post some non-incriminating pictures from the big day. A few of you will be especially enamored with some of these (*ahem* Schneider Doodle, Pamster, RhoJo and Coree). Besides, most of my Xmas gifts involve wedding pictures, so you know. Happy holidays and all that crap.

Without further ado, may I present the highlights (and what some might consider lowlights) of the Mr. T-Sassy wedding (all but one of the following are courtesy of the amazing Clary Pfeiffer)…

Getting ready:

My amazing necklace, handmade by my fabulous sister:

The unity candle – there is ribbon at the top of the tapers that you can’t see – and it almost caused a fire during the ceremony. Ahhh, memories:

My flowers and vow pillow:


My best friend tying me up:

The church – I love this perspective shot:

Finally married!

On to the fun reception details:

Yep, those are Smurfs on top of my cake:

Cheers! This is a good shot of my wedding gift, one of two right hand rings:

This picture is from Ame of Dickey Designs – my waist looks TEENY and I love it:

Our first dance – I ADORE this shot:

Party time! Here are some of my favorite dance shots from the night…and remember, full open bar:


I know this happened more than once, but between the slippers and dress, I don’t know how:


So there you have it. Lots of time-consuming details and mild breakdowns, but a gorgeous day with lots of happy memories to help offset the sad ones.


But if Mr. T ever divorces my ass, I will never, EVER get married again. Ever. Maybe I should start being nicer…


Nah. He knew what he was asking for when he proposed.



posted on Monday, December 22nd, 2008 under Things that piss me off |

You are in big trouble, missy!

Look what she did to me!

After I blogged about being a scrooge, this is what I get, huh? A tag for holiday traditions??? Well, this is an easy one.

My holiday traditions revolve around being stressed out, too poor to buy the cool gifts I want to buy for my family and friends and really cranky. So why should this post be any different?

Christmas Eve belongs to my mom, stepdad and siblings. We open all our gifts and have a huge dinner, and once again, I am NOT getting Christmas pizza. Christmas day is a stressful clusterfuck that includes spending a few hours at T’s parents’ house with his family (I love them all except two, and those two never fail to make it a miserable experience…”Oh, my diabetes! I can’t make the crying kids a plate because I have diabetes!” Funny, your diabetes didn’t keep you from bowling until 2 AM! ”Oh, you did [enter some trivial piece of conversation of which the culprit was not involved here], did you? Well, I [enter some overexaggerated, lie-filled one-uppance here].”) Then we head over to see someone on my biodad’s side. This year, we’re going to Festus. No offense to those who live there, but that’s just miserable sounding. How can anyone get excited about visiting a city that sounds like a pus-filled wound?? A few days after Christmas, I go see whomever got screwed on Christmas day. So it NEVER ENDS.

I want to be rich. I want to be off work entirely for the holidays. I want Christmas pizza, dammit!

Since I’m such a miser, I won’t be tagging anyone. Take that, my lovely Pamster. Yeah, I bet that hurts. It burns, just like the coal in my stocking (which happens to packed away in the attic). But you know I still love you.

Bah humbug!

posted on Monday, December 22nd, 2008 under General Ramblings |

I’m a total scrooge. I despise the holidays, especially this year. There is nothing relaxing or enjoyable about rushing around to hit as many family gatherings as possible in two days. I hate the guilt that comes from missing a gathering due to schedule conflicts. I hate the multiple calls trying to arrange everything. I hate drawing names and then buying a gift card – it’s pointless and retarded. I could have just spent that $50 on my own gift card, as could have the other person with whom I am exchanging. I hate plastering on a smile and pretending to love the family members I really despise. *cough*S&M*cough* I’m not a churchgoer, so in the end, it’s really pointless for me to celebrate the holiday. It’s based on religion, and I’m not comfortable with organized religion, so I hate being a hypocrite and celebrating something that I don’t fully believe in. I hate getting presents, and opening them in front of cameras is just plain uncomfortable.

Don’t get me wrong, I love family time. I just hate that it has to be clustered into two short days and that everyone from my crazy divorced family is pulling at me to be at their gatherings. I love giving the gifts that I spent so much time thinking about and creating and watching the recipients’ reactions.

But this has been a rough year. It’s going to be weird without my two grandmothers and that makes me so sad. Given the crazy schedule, I probably won’t even see my uncle, and that makes it even harder. Our schedule has allowed zero time for my husband and I to enjoy the holiday alone. Mr. T is totally strapped this year, so he couldn’t buy his family gifts and I couldn’t afford to carry the financial burden of both families, so that’s extremely awkward.

I’m even weird about phone calls and texts. I think it’s exhausting to field so many holiday wishes, especially when the return sentiment I offer is strained and without genuine enthusiasm. I don’t even like Christmas carols.

So there you have it. I’m a holiday scrooge and I don’t care who knows it. I think other people with divorced families probably feel the same way about some of this. Even if they don’t, I don’t care. Nothing’s going to change my outlook. At least, not this year.

Here’s to a better 2009. 2008 can go fuck itself.

That, too.

Wandering aimlessly in the wildnerness of grief

posted on Monday, December 15th, 2008 under General Ramblings |

Or some shit like that. I went to a seminar about grieving awhile back and the guy giving the lecture has a book out about the wilderness of grief (I would know, I won a copy of the audio book…seriously, who goes to a grief seminar and WINS something???? Me, that’s who…). The main gist is that grief is unique to each person, and it’s similar to the wilderness in that there are many unexpected obstacles and twists that arise in the process. Sure, whatever. This guy needs to keep out of my “wilderness” – it’s cluttered, dangerous and inhospitable to children.

Anyway, the only reason I even thought of this was because of something weird that happened this weekend. Mr. T and I went to get our herrrrs did (I’m now a reddish brunette, thank you very much) and then went to the Bandanas in Florissant for lunch. I was totally fine until I got up to use the restroom and saw the electrical outlet by the waitress station. I had to hold back tears until I got in the bathroom stall and then I cried like a baby. Because of an electrical outlet.

The reason? Shortly before Grandma V died, we took her there for lunch one Saturday. She was having difficulty breathing and had a breathing machine with her for emergencies. We had to ask for a table that was pretty close to an outlet in case she had an attack and needed to use the machine, which had to be plugged in. For whatever reason, walking past that outlet triggered the memory and made me incredibly sad. We left and I told T that we couldn’t eat there anymore because the memories just hurt too much.

I have been doing much better lately with the whole coping thing, so this took me by surprise. I immediately thought of the seminar and how the guy said that these things happen, and will continue to happen for the rest of my life. Great. I can’t wait to go to the grocery store and start weeping in front of a box of Melba toast (my other grandmother’s name was Melba and we always joked about “her” toast). Perhaps my next list should be “List of stuff that may or may not trigger uncontrollable weeping in public.” Nah, that’d take far too long.

On another, more lighthearted note, I baked holiday cookies with my mom yesterday. In my attempt to break from all things stereotypically classified as Christmas, I strayed from her pre-approved holiday cookie cutters. The resulting batches included an evil holiday unicorn (complete with red eye), a holiday axe, a Christmas 3 (Oh, Christmas three, oh Christmas three…), a 4 for my sister obsessed with even numbers, a holiday rooster (or Christmas cock, if you’re so inclined), a tatooed snowman, a bunny, a questionable turkey and, of course, Christmas pizza. If this isn’t the year for Christmas pizza, I’m boycotting completely. Thanksgiving pizza didn’t happen, wedding pizza didn’t happen…what’s a girl got to do to get a special occassion pizza pie around here????

Although I despise children, I think this sums up the theme for the day…

A white Mr. T in the making

List of stuff, take two

posted on Monday, December 12th, 2008 under General Ramblings |

Mr. T tells me all the time that I stifle his cooking creativity with my picky eating habits. My coworkers are constantly astounded by the sheer amount of things I don’t eat – and this was the first list they attempted to start, but gave up when the board was full. I will continue with their format here – the food and a brief description of why I don’t like it. With no further ado, I give you:

List of stuff that I won’t eat

  • Cooked onions. Too slimy. I will eat onion rings, but if the actual onion comes out of the breading, it makes me want to ralph.
  • Raw onions. Bad taste with bad crunch.
  • Peppers. Ew. I tried them with cottage cheese once and that made it worse.
  • Raw tomatoes. Too slimy and weird tasting.
  • Meat on the bone. Too neanderthal-like. Can’t stand the sensation of my teeth touching bone. Looks too much like the animal it was cut from – can’t eat anything that resembles something living.
  • Venison. Too pretty.
  • Lamb, rabbit, veal. Too cute.
  • Avocadoes. Weird texture and after taste.
  • Raw blueberries. The weird tops gross me out. Put them in a poptart or muffin, though, and I’m in.
  • Spicy stuff. I’m a wimp.
  • Mashed cauliflower. Not even CLOSE to mashed potatoes. *Shudder*
  • Pork. Okay, I eat sausage. But the rest of it, even bacon, I’ll pass on…unless it’s bacon on a BBQ burger…don’t ask, it doesn’t make sense.
  • Radishes. Taste like burned taste buds.
  • Eggplant. Okay, I’ve never actually eaten it, but I have no desire to try it.
  • Capers. Look like rabbit poop. But if you cook with them and tell me they’re peas, I’ll probably eat them.
  • Animal organs. Just gross. No brains, livers, gizzards or other innards need apply.
  • Lobster. Too chewy/dense.
  • Octopus, squid. Never tried them, heard they’re like lobster. I’m out!
  • Mahi mahi. Sure, it’s the dumber, uglier dolphin, but it is dolphin.
  • Tapioca. I don’t feel compelled to eat teeny, slimy balls. Ick.
  • Cabbage. Unless it’s in slaw dressing, it’s not for me. It smells bad, too.
  • Corned beef. It sounds gross and it tastes even more gross than it sounds. Good thing I’m not Irish, eh?
  • Sweet potatoes. I don’t even like ‘em with marshmallows…
  • Cornish game hen. I think it has more to do with the fact that the first time I encountered them, I thought my ex’s mom was saying they were “little cornish gay men.”
  • Muenster cheese. Cheese is a food group to me, but this one is an outsider. I tend to not eat things that smell like feet…
  • Meatloaf. I see no need for meat to come in loaf form.
  • Squash. I’ll eat it, but I don’t enjoy it. Sure, butter helps, but that kind of defeats the purpose…
  • Okra. Even frying it doesn’t help.
  • Beets. Only good as visual garnish.
  • Brussel sprouts. Something else I’ve never eaten and never will.
  • Mushrooms. I don’t eat fungus.
  • Turnips. Just icky.
  • Duck. I want one as a pet, not an entree.
  • Steak. Even off the bone…if it’s not ground up, I won’t eat it.
  • Oysters. I don’t eat boogers, so why would I eat an oyster?
  • Sashimi. I’m starting to enjoy some very basic sushi, but sashimi is asking a bit too much.
  • Vegetable juice. That goes against my definition of juice.
  • Fruit dip. Fruit is perfect. It does NOT need dip.
  • Store-bought icing. I eat it and use it when absolutely necessary, but it makes my soul hurt a little. Homemade buttercream and decorator’s icing is so simple and delicious.
  • Black licorice. Gross.
  • Black coffee. Too bitter. Need sweetener at the least, prefer some half and half, too.
  • Fruitcake. But really, who likes fruitcake?
  • Anchovies. Small but whole salty fish? Nope. I puked an anchovy-based dressing once and it was the worst puke ever. Oddly enough, Caesar salad is still my favorite…
  • Ham. I just can’t eat it. Alone, on something, in something, I’ll pass.
  • Warm pineapple. I don’t like pineapple upside down cake unless it is completely cooled, and the idea of pineapple on pizza or part of a hot dish makes me uncomfortable – I pick it out of my sweet and sour chicken.

Well, I won’t say that this is an exhaustive list (I’ll think of 20 more things after I hit “Publish”), but I’m bored of this and feel the need to go pee for the fifth time today to see if the ring falls out…so I’ll leave you with a picture of squirrels weilding light sabers.

Go ahead, make the noises.

It was like a run-by NuvaRinging…

posted on Monday, December 12th, 2008 under General Ramblings |

Well, I’m not entirely sure how I let this happen, but I officially have a 2-inch ring o’baby-preventing hormones chilling in my hooha. Let’s reflect on my annual GYN appointment yesterday…

I arrive about 20 minutes early because I know there will be issues with my lack of insurance card, even though I have called the office twice about the letter I have. After fighting with a crabby receptionist about accepting the letter from Anthem as proof of insurance until my card comes in, I continue to the lobby where I wait for a good 25 minutes for my turn. Once in the room, I find myself bored, nekkid and covered in pink paper. A solid 20 minutes later, my nurse practitioner comes breezing in the room and I hang up on Mr. T (he was keeping me entertained). At this point, I’ve been at the office for about an hour…

The events that follow transpired within no more than FIVE MINUTES. 

NP: How are you? Any problems? Anything new?

S: Well, define “problems.”

NP: Anything wrong with your boobs or vagina?

S: Not really, but I do hate my birth control. I want to change it.

NP: What do you hate about it?

S: I hate taking a pill everyday. I’m forgetful and I hate babies.

NP: Oh, what about the NuvaRing? Once it’s in, you don’t have to think about it for 3 weeks.

S: Oh, no. I can’t do it. That thing freaks me out.

NP: Why?

S: It’s just weird. I’m afraid I won’t be able to get it out. It’ll get stuck. I can’t do it.

NP: Why don’t we just try it? It’s easy, I’ll just go grab one and pop it in during your exam.

S: Um, okay…

[She leaves the room briefly and returns with a foil package. She proceeds with the quick exam, chatting about why I hate babies, and then...]

NP: There, it’s in. If you can’t get it out in three weeks, come back in and I’ll remove it. We can chat more about it then. Either way, call me in three weeks – I may have more samples for you. I’ll go grab some literature for you. If it pops out, just stick it back in.

S: Wait, does that happen often???

NP: Some people have more trouble than others. If it bothers you during sex, take it out and put it back in – just don’t leave it out for more than three hours. I’ll go grab your literature while you get dressed.

Then she was gone. A nurse brought me the literature and I left, feeling like I’d been sold a lemon at a used car lot. Ring around the hooha in 2 seconds flat. I immediately called Mr. T and told him we had to have sex when I got home…you know, in the name of science.

So I guess we’ll see what the next three weeks hold. I’m a little grossed out by the whole thing. What if it falls out while I’m going to the bathroom??? You can’t use hot water on it, and the idea of jamming a pee-coated mini-bracelet back up my girlie bits just bothers the hell out of me. And if I can’t get it out, I have to call her office to make an appointment for HER to do it?? That’ll be a fun call…What do you need to see the doctor for this time? Oh, I can’t get this damn ring out of my vag…

Anybody use this thing? Thoughts? It all happened so fast. I think my ovaries have whiplash. I wish Mr. T would get over his indecision about babies and let me get sterilized already…I’m totally weirded out by this whole thing. Honestly, if my primary care doc hadn’t already recommended the ring to help me with some other issues, I would have refused the thing entirely. But anyone who knows me knows how easily swayed I can be at times. This is exactly why Mr. T wouldn’t let me talk to the vendors in Jamaica…

We'll see...

Wrong. Just wrong.

posted on Monday, December 11th, 2008 under General Ramblings |

Another MSN homepage headline gem: Ricky Martin shows off his twins.

No, thanks. I’ll pass. He shook his bon-bon, wasn’t that enough??

In advance, you are welcome…




Need some good luck fairy dust

posted on Monday, December 11th, 2008 under General Ramblings |

So, it’s probably not even going to pan out, but last night I took the plunge on something I’ve been indecisive about for a while. I’m not even going to jinx it by providing details, but I wanted to put out a request in the blogosphere for some much-needed good luck vibes, thoughts, fairy dust, whatever you got. If, against all odds, this would work out, I really think it would be a change I desperately need.

And this has nothing to do with Prego or Ragu.

So there you go.

List of stuff, take one

posted on Monday, December 10th, 2008 under General Ramblings |

I have a lot of odd penchants and aversions. In fact, my coworkers have started many a list regarding these oddities, only to give up because the lists grew too long. So, in an attempt to fully recognize the extent of my weirdness, I have decided to make lists, by category, on a regular basis. Now I give you take one:

List of Stuff that Creeps Me the Hell Out

  • Clowns. This, to me, is a broad category that encapsulates actual clowns, mimes, jokers, jacks-in-boxes (but not THE Jack in the Box - I love his cheeseburgers), makers of balloon animals and any other such being that deems it necessary to paint its face and spend copious amounts of time with children and/or in horror movies (thank you very much, Stephen King).
  • Santa. When you can rearrange the letters in a name to get SATAN, I think that’s grounds enough for creeptasia. Add to that the fact that Santa is prone to spending a large amount of time with children on his lap, and the proliferation of robotic Santas with demonic electronic voices, and I think my case is pretty solid.
  • Spiders. Pretty normal, I know. I just think the overabundance of legs and eyes is unnecessary. Millipedes are pretty atrocious as well. Bugs in general really creep me the hell out. Enough said.
  • Eels. *Shudder* I don’t know what I would do if I ever encountered an eel in open water. Luckily, I live smack dab in the middle of a landlocked country, so aside from the rare tropical vacation or trip to an aquarium, I think i’m safe. There’s just something about the way they move and the way they look at you. Ick. Flostam & Jetsam, no matter how cleverly named, deserved what they got in The Little Mermaid.
  • The dark. Yes, I am trying to hide this one near the middle of the list. If Mr. T would let me, I would have a nightlight. I have terrible night vision, so that just adds to my discomfort. I have no idea what’s hiding in the darkness. The worst is when the power goes out. Not only is it dark, but there is no TV or radio to hide the creepy bumps and creaks. I have several flashlights around the house and always have my cell phone with me – that sucker can practically light the whole dang house. Mr. T has scared the shit out of me several times just by walking into the room when it’s dark and I don’t hear him…
  • Serial killers in my attic. I am convinced that there is a serial killer living in our attic. We keep our dog food on the steps leading up to our unfinished attic, so when I have to feed the dog when I’m home alone, I get really nervous. One of these days, I just know I’m going to open the door and come face to face with an axe-wielding psychopath. I just know it.
  • Getting stabbed. Obviously. That would fucking hurt. I have a low tolerance for pain, so the thought of someone sticking something sharp into my body and pulling it out (potentially twisting it in the process) makes me want to puke. I know the general fear of pain is normal, but it’s the specific stabbing scenario that I guess is weird. Sure, getting shot would hurt, too, but stabbing…ugh. And clearly, I am convinced I am going to be stabbed someday. You know, by the serial killer in my attic.
  • Fantasia. Seriously. What the fuck WAS that????
  • Ugly babies. Babies already look like aliens, especially at birth. I’ve discovered, however, that around the 3 week mark, babies start to even out a little – except the truly ugly ones. I’ve noticed that the really ugly children also have a tendency to stare, which adds to the creepiness. And if the kid is ugly AND fat? Oh, no. Deal’s off. Get the fuck away from me. I will leave. I will get the fuck up and leave.
  • That noise the cat kid makes in The Grudge. I can’t even write about it.
  • Seeing and/or watching someone else brush his/her teeth. We had to fast forward through parts of Stranger Than Fiction due to this. It bugs the hell out of me. It gives me chills and makes me a little bit nauseaus.
  • Pregnancy. I know, I know. It’s natural, blahblahblah. Whatever. You are INCUBATING A HUMAN! That’s just bizarre. Amazing on the one hand, but totally insane and a bit discomfiting on the other. I’m just totally weirded out by the whole thing. Some friends of mine had a baby recently and the wife/mom kept trying to get me to touch her belly the whole time she was knocked up – to no avail. No way, no how, I’m not touching that thing, get it away from me.
  • Swimming in murkey water. If I can’t see what’s at the bottom, count me out. Stuff growing up from the bottom freaks me out, too. I can’t go canoeing in lakes (or the ocean, apparently) – there are underwater tree things that scrape the bottom of the canoe and that is terrifying. This also contributes to my fear of being on a sinking ship, which is why I will never go on a cruise. You don’t know what is waiting in the water…not to mention that you might just drown or freeze to death.
  • Toilet monsters. I know there really aren’t any monsters sitting in toilets, waiting to bite the asses of unsuspecting late-night pee-ers…but there ARE spiders that won’t flush and snakes that come up through the plumbing, both of which could actually bite me in the ass. I always inspect the toilet before I sit down to do my biznass. You just never know.
  • My house burning down. I won’t let our Christmas lights stay on all night because I’m afraid they’ll burn our house down. I wake up in a panic some nights, convinced that our wiring is faulty and the house is about to burn down. I don’t trust the auto shut-off on my coffeemaker or that the oven is turned off (even though we hardly ever actually cook at home). I’m afraid the cat will jump on the stove and manage to turn on a burner, resulting in flash-fried kitty. I’m convinced our heater or water heater will, in fact, blow up one day and take the house, all our belonging and my beloved animals with it. Want to know what to get me for Christmas? How about a fireproof safe and one of those little stickers for your doors that tell the firefighters how many pets you have?
  • Someone hiding in my backseat. Enough with the stupid emails about the latest trick predators have up their nasty sleeves – they just foster more irrational fears, like someone hiding in my backseat waiting to kill me. When I had my little pickup truck, it had no back seat and that was comforting. Now I DO have a backseat and it’s kinda creepy…
  • The proliferation of zombie movies. Again, enough is enough. We have planted enough ideas in the minds of stupid government officials. If all these rage virus theories aren’t based on some sort of past or existing CIA conspiracy, then leave it to our trusty leaders to think it’s a good idea to start now. Forget that all the movies are based on the potential to wipe out the human population – that would be the part the government would ignore. Zombies aren’t real, so they don’t scare me – it is the POTENTIAL for someone to create zombies that freaks my shit out.

I know there’s more…but that’s good enough for take one. I think the next list will be things I don’t eat…

Great. Something else to be afraid of...