The Way Things Are






Where did we leave off?
2005-11-08, 9:46 a.m.

Where did we leave off? Oh, right. We were reading the warning on monkey bowlís butt. Our friends, in defiance to the warning, like to brazenly eat snacks right out of monkey bowl. Cheetohs and Skittles are current favorites. Nobodyís died yet, but donít underestimate monkey bowlís deadly powers.


Our very pretty fireplace. I have nothing snarkastic to say, because it is very pretty, except for that mud dauber nest up toward the top. My late, great grandmother painted that thar picture on the mantle. Before she went blind, not after. Her artwork and handicrafts After Blindness were a bit more colorful. Remind me to take a picture of the neon pink and green quilt she made me. I mean, come on, bless her. Going blind with macular degeneration, and making me what she insisted was a lovely soft green and peach quilt. I digress.

They mocked me for my high-falutiní idea of putting a window at the end of the hallway. Screw them, I say. Look at it. LOOK AT IT. Accept it before it destroys you.

If you come stay with me, you can have this room. We call it Nanaís room because thatís the room I imagine my mother living in after we cart my stepdad off to a home, ward, or institution. Better get here before that happens or youíll be sleeping twosies.

What you canít see is that the walls are ďEggplantĒ. Very, very eggplant. Iím sitting on the toilet to take this picture.

Not the master bedroom, the MISTRESS bedroom. Please come visit me, because somebody needs to fold all that laundry. Weíll have an old-fashioned laundry folding party. Weíll party like itís 1899.

Here we are walking into the bathroom from the Smurf-blue bedroom. The mistress suite is a salute to the colors of the 80s. Thatís a big-ass bathtub there, isnít it?

When you lie in the tub, you can see the tv on the dresser. I watched Cops: NOPD the other night while soaking away my white trash blues. All I needed was a plastic cup full of white zin and a dog in there with me. Somebody needs to warsh all that dirty laundry.

A shot of the bathroom counter. Iím including this one because of what I noticed when I took it. Whatís this?

Why, itís the Old West-themed tissue box and the lighted candle, conspiring to burn this fucker right down.

Thereís another bedroom that we call Beanís bedroom, because thatís where her crate is. Yes, we crate that dog at night, or else sheíll walk around the house barking at her own reflection in the windows, and scaring the crap out of us. Sheís lucky she has her own bedroom, and that we havenít killed her yet.

Thereís also a stairway (part of the pointy transition between dining room and hall), that leads to Lil Guyís apartment. I know: itís not a competition between his father and me to purchase his love, EXCEPT IT IS.

I leave you with this.

***Your IQ Is 125***

Your Logical Intelligence is Below Average

Your Verbal Intelligence is Genius

Your Mathematical Intelligence is Exceptional

Your General Knowledge is Exceptional

A Quick and Dirty IQ Test

I know not how to do links that actually work, so you can cut and paste at your lehhhhhzure. Or not. It is no surprise that I am below average in logical intelligence. I mean, I knew that. I really, really did. And the Genius and Exceptional scores in the other categories, those are good. But DAMN. I am so freaking illogical. I couldnít logic my way out of a wet paper bag. And what would I be doing in a wet paper bag to begin with? See, completely illogical. This may have something to do with my inability to link.

Take the test and letís see how you measure up. Come on, shame me! Itíll be fun.

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