Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Odd Way To Throw Out Your Back

I used to have this ongoing "zing" with the Roommate (women and children should stop reading now): after a good, healthy #2 I'd not flush the toilet, close the lid and leave the "present" for the Roommate to find.  Sometimes I'd even wipe, put the toilet paper in the garbage - and promtly take it out to the garbage - just so she'd have the full effect of turds staring at her from the bowl.  Sure, I'd catch hell for being a sick bastard, but I'd laugh my ass off every time.

I wasn't planning on doing it on Saturday but the massive dump I took just couldn't go to waste (waste, ha!).  As I went to pull up my pants I couldn't help but take a peek at my great accomplishment, looked over my right shoulder and felt a sharp pain in my back.  I stood up, flexed around a little and figured everything was ok.

Until I went to go shower and realized I couldn't reach my shoelaces without pain.

I spent all Sunday on the couch.  It was all I could do to sit at work for eight hours on Monday.

When I see a coin on the sidewalk I always make a concetrated effort to square my feet when I go to pick it up.  Who wants to hurt their back picking up a nickle?  I guess I should use that philosophy when getting off the shitter, too.

Saturday, March 16, 2013

Badger Care

I don't understand why my taxes have to pay for women to have kids who don't have health insurance.  I made the choice to not have kids, why do I have to pay for this?

Friday, March 15, 2013

Expiring Food

I hate it when I have pork chops and chicken in the fridge that have a shelf life, when all I want is Mac N Cheese or a frozen pizza.

Thursday, March 14, 2013


It's a heavy burden, but someone has to carry it.

Saturday, March 02, 2013

Waking Up Angry

I don't really know how to explain this.  Reality and my perception of reality were somewhat clouded.


Tuesday was like most nights after work.  I came home, walked the dog, lifted weights in the basement and watched some college basketball.  After a slosh fest on Sunday and a well needed sober Monday, I opened a couple beers while lying on the couch.  All told, at the end of the night I had consumed five beers in just over four hours.  Some (doctors) might think that's a lot but for me that's not much at all, especially considering the slow pace.  On Friday's I'll probably consume five in the first 45 minutes of getting home from work.  Some (me) might even think my Tuesday consumption was technically a waste of beer.


I like going to bed at 11:00 at night.  That way, even if I don't fall asleep for a half an hour, I'll still get eight hours of sleep before my alarm goes off at 7:30.  Or I might even wake up before the alarm goes off, allowing me to ease into my morning routine.  (My dog likes this better too.  Instead of bolting up at the sound of the alarm I have to poke and prod her to wake up and go outside.  She's so cute in the mornings – just five more minutes!)


I woke up at 2:30 in the morning.  I heard a TV on and figured the Roommate was up late since she took a two hour nap after work.  I got up, walked down the hallway and reasoned she must have been in the basement watching TV.  Mind you, the basement TV is right below my bedroom with little to no insulation between us.


This made my irate, really irate.  Why would she think that she should take a nap and then keep me up well past my bedtime on a work night at that?  She used to be a late night person so I could see this nap/stay up late trend continuing on in the future.  I was having none of that, especially in my own house.


I got up and turned the heat down to 57.  If she was going to keep me up, I was going to take away the heat.


I stayed up till 5:30 in the morning.  The TV sounds had gotten fainter and I had to strain to hear it at times.  A couple times I even leaned over my bed to get my ear closer to the floor.  And then I heard them; footsteps coming up the basement stairs.  Oh boy, I was going to let her have it when she walked past my room.  I waited, and waited, and just when the wood floors squeaked outside my door, "Pheh haaaaa…"  Nothing came out.  I couldn't utter a word, just a strained gasp.  I tried again, only this time I was sucking air in and not blowing it out.  The third try I think I managed to get some words out but I couldn't even tell you what they were.  Not being able to yell at her, I picked up my phone and texted, "Good luck trying to take a nap after work ever, ever again."


I woke up in the morning filled with rage.  Who did she think she was that she can mess with my sleeping schedule like that?  She must have noticed that I was perturbed.  Later in the morning I received this email: "What is with your text message?  I got home and in bed by midnight, turned off the tv at 1230 and was sleeping before 1am.  What is your issue?  I was woken up by you in the middle of the night bitching about something.  And if I want to take a nap I will.  I had a headache and needed to lay down.  I believe I can do that.  Like you can get up at 630am on a Saturday and not let anyone else sleep because you are up.  So whatever your deal is…get over it. Fucking drama queen.  Stop being such a bitch."


Me, a bitch?  "So you weren't up till 5:00 in the morning watching TV?"

This couldn't be.  I swore I could hear the TV on in the basement.  


I didn't believe her.


I went home during lunch.  I knew the last thing I had on the TV was the Marquette game, on channel 32 of all channels (nothing good plays on channel 32).  I went home.  I figured if she was in the basement watching TV she wouldn't turn it back to 32 when she was done.


The TV was still on 32.  This is when I started to realize I might be crazy.


The Roomate played "Crazy Train" on her phone for the next three days.