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Thursday, April 7, 2011

The Playahs OR Those Who Are Regularly Getting Slammed in a Literary Sense

People and things I mention frequently in the blog:


HIM, in a rare relaxed moment
HIM: HIM is the man to whom I am married.  In the beginning I was reluctant to mention HIM by name because some of the stuff I say about HIM.  After all HIM gets needled most of the time and HIM does some truly funny crap.  Plus HIM says some stuff to me that makes me crack up.  Most importantly, HIM can drive me fucking bonkers in 3.2 seconds.  (I didn't actually time it on a stop watch but I should have.)  HIM is Pain In The Ass Man and has special powers.

Cressy: Cressy is our daughter.  She's 7 years old and adorable.  Although she can be Pill Girl, like HIM can be Pain In The Ass Man, she's mainly a source of unending amusement, although this is in a good way.  For example, if you haven't read the blogs, 'The Attack of Alligator Girl and the Zombie Kids!!!' and 'The Return of Alligator Girl!!!' you have missed out.  All of those fine literary works came directly from Cressy, excepting for my illustrations and clever insertions of smart assed comments.  (She'll appreciate that when she's thirty years old.)  Here she is doing her infamous Spongebob laugh.  (I'm going to hell for this.)


ME, in a common fashion deluded moment
Me:  Sometimes referred to as Fat Woman.  (Same super hero venue.  Pain In The Ass Man.  Pill Girl.  And Fat Woman.  Sometimes we get together to take on The League of Things That Piss Fat Woman Off.  It's an under appreciated group of super villains, but they have mad skills.)  I have a few peccadilloes, such as bad customer service, critics who use poor grammar and critic mine, and life's general idiosyncrasies, but they keep life from being utterly boring.

My Sis, I swear!  She looks great doesn't she?
The Sis: My sister, my only sibling, who gets a starring role, whether she likes it or not.  She hasn't got a super hero name, but give me some time and I'll think of one for her.  It has to be completely worthy of her.  She has a wicked sense of humor and often sends me emails featuring Godzilla.  (Back when Godzilla was remade in 1998, (Matthew Broderick VS. Super Special FX) we went on a weird, Godzilla related series of writing would be Godzilla movies that were never made.  Examples included Godzilla starring as Dorothy in 'The Wizard of Oz,' which was a true classic of made up movies.  Also there was a James Bond movie featuring Godzilla as 007, but I believe Blofeld and the James Bond girl of the week both got incinerated by flames.  In any case, for some strange, comedic reason, we still write would-be Godzilla movie plots.  I would have loved to include some of these old classics, but HIM inadvertently erased all my emails sometime in 2005 and caused me to repeatedly bring this benign fact up on occasions when I'm a particularly moody bitch.)

The Bitch: Although sometimes I refer to one of my least favorite neighbors this way, this is actually a cat we had once.  Her real name was Mifawnwi, which denigrated into Miff or Mifwi, and which I got out of a name book.  I should have saved that name for Cressy, which is short for Crescencia, and someday will get me in very hot water with the daughter.  Anyway, the Bitch was a black cat we adopted while we lived in Germany.  We soon learned that her slinky was kinked.  She was one beer shy of a six pack.  The cheese done fell off her cracker.  I often told people that Mifawnwi was Irish for 'Can't pee in the litter box.'  Oh, she knew how to pee in the litter box.  She just attempted to pee everywhere else to drive me insane.  HIM believes that the Bitch was a alien sent to earth in a secret mission to test earthly defenses and that the Bitch had an additional alienized bladder that was saved in reserve to pee in all the places that she previously missed.  When she died, I had her cremated and I still have her ashes in the attic because I'll be damned if I know what to do with them.  HIM figures that the Bitch haunts us every time something leaks.  Could be true.
The Cats of Doom
Tokyo Rose: This was not the radio announcer from WWII, but a Siamese cat we had.  (As a kitten, he was described as inscrutable by HIM and  for some reason we didn't halt our racist leanings.  I guess it could have been worse.  My grandmother used to call her black, full sized poodle N-Dog and I'm using the initial because that word is a BAAAAAAAD word to use.  Now that was racist.)  Tokyo Rose was also called Booboo.  He was really a great cat.  Loving, cuddly, and as stupid as a box of rocks.  This cat was all foam and no beer.  We figured out that there must have been too much interbreeding in his family tree.  You know, no branches.  He could be haunting us, too, because his ashes are upstairs with the Bitch's, but I'm not sure how the ghost of a stupid cat would haunt us. 

HIM, as depicted by Me whilst I was playing with the Autodesk Sketch Program
Or HIM in his nighttime attire
This picture has nothing to do with this blog.  I was bored
and feeling scrappy.
HIM, again, because I felt like messing with HIM.

My MIL.  Hah.  Bet you think she looks helpless.  She carries a gun and knows
how to use it, buddy.  Plus she has a big truck to run you over with.

My MIL: This is my mother in law for those of you with an inability to figure out initials.  She's like HIM.  She does stuff that I think is funny and I can't NOT talk about it.  So does my FIL, but he gets less mileage because he and I don't speak as frequently.  (My FIL is a retired Methodist minister, which gives me lots of material but my mother's long ago ingrained brainwashing must still be kicking in because I find it difficult to say bad things about a minister.)

Anyone else not previously mentioned: The guy at Walmart who chased us out to the car asking for our receipt gets an honorable mention, because I intend to talk about him for many years to come.  The creature from the black lagoon who lives next door to us, not to be mistaken for the actual Creature from the Black Lagoon, who has much more integrity and moral character than the thing next door.  The co-owner of Bitzell Fence Company in Northern Virginia who has about much moral character as the thing next door, except probably less.  (I'll save the fence company story for another day, but it basically falls under the POOR CUSTOMER Service category.)  An entire range of varied and assorted relatives who have all kinds of stories that I'm ready to drag out and make public in a sarcastic and snarky manner.

And lastly, I'll save a special place for those privileged individuals/companies in the future who shall piss me off.  They're out there.  They know who they are.

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