Just the Tip

When I exited my car, there was nothing unusual about the night. It was around nine o’clock, and my intentions were to spend the remainder of the evening watching television with The Boyfren, while sipping beer and laughing profusely (because Rick & Morty).

It was the perfect plan for a Monday.

As I stood up from the driver’s seat, I glanced into the neighbor’s driveway. What sat there, curiously peering at me, was a fuzzy brown and white cat. It made me smile.  I had seen this cat before and knew that was a sweet one.  I quickly made plans in my head to pet this kitty before heading into the house.

While devising my strategy for approaching the feline without scaring it away, and watching the cat to make sure I knew where it went if it moved, I absentmindedly swung my car door shut…RIGHT ONTO MY PINKY FINGER!! I’m not talking a “shut and bounce back due to finger being in the way” sort of swing, either!  That fucker LATCHED on me!!!

My initial reaction was shock! As quickly as it happened, I reached over with my other hand and opened the door, freeing my now-bleeding pinky finger.  Luckily, I had smashed just the tip.  (Zing!)

At this point, I was thinking to myself that the cute cat could go fuck itself! It was probably laughing inside with the most adorably evil kitty laugh.

Now my goals for the next hour changed from petting cats and laughing at television to the following:

  1. Do not klutzily hit finger on any object while rushing into the restroom.
  2. Assess the wound.
  3. Do not faint.
  4. Clean the wound.
  5. Continue NOT fainting.
  6. Bandage the wound.
  7. Seriously follow through on the not-fainting goal.
  8. Make Boyfren bring ice pack and pain-numbing shots of liquor to me for the rest of the night.
  9. Do not faint.

I know it can be difficult to achieve all of one’s goals in a night, but I can say I succeeded this time.

Now, three days later, I have a black and purple fingernail, and a pinky that is truly pissed at me for typing this up…because it hurts.

New life goals to add to already existing ones:

  1. Stop breaking fingers.
  2. Do not be distracted by cats when car doors are open.
  3. Do not faint.
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Evil Lurks

I swear, there was murder in its eyes—all eight of its eyes lusted for my blood. I didn’t see him at first, but I could feel that evil gaze as soon as I walked into my bedroom.  I had just exited the shower and my only goal was to dry my hair in peace.  As I reached for the hair-dryer, I glanced something dark and sinister in my peripheral vision.  It was above me, on the wall—the most fuzzy, black arachnid I had ever seen!  He wasn’t gigantic, but he was formidable in size enough so that I jumped back in terror.  Staring directly at me, he began to move across the wall in my direction.  He was either murderous, completely pervy, or BOTH!

It was decision time! This spider had to go!  I grabbed a shoe…but then I stopped.  If I smacked at this thing and missed, it would merely fall to the floor, and would land directly in my open bins full of makeup, etc.  At that point, he could potentially escape into the mess of things, recuperate, and then carry out his revenge on me later as I slept!

What were my other options? He was too high on the wall for me to try to catch him and release him to the wild.  I could have gone to the next room to grab some sort of bug spray with which I could attack him, but I was afraid that if I turned my back at all, he would escape and hide from me, while of course plotting my demise.  My contemplations increased, and I began to panic.

This is the instant, that crucial turning point, where the boyfren walked into my house. That moment looked like this:

He walked up to my bedroom door (unbeknownst to me) and peered in, puzzled, to find that I was standing there stark naked, holding one shoe like a baseball about to be pitched, but frozen in place, staring up at the wall, and yelling at my cats, “Why don’t you two do your jobs?? Why can’t you track down and kill the spiders?? YOU HAVE ONE RESPONSIBILITY IN THIS HOUSE BESIDES LICKING YOUR ASSHOLES, AND THAT IS TO KILL THE CREEPY/CRAWLY THINGS!!!”

With poise and ease, Justin grabbed a Kleenex, and disposed of the murderous perv-spider. JUST LIKE THAT!  As if it was a simple gesture!

My hero!

Now…I simply wait for the spider’s family to avenge his death. They always do.  (Isn’t this like the tenth blog I’ve written about spiders????)

Monday Wins

This morning, I awoke ready for more sleep (typical). I had to muster all my strength just to drag myself out of bed and into the shower.  I had just finished shaving one of my legs when something abruptly startled me.  An alarm started loudly to go off!  Sounding repeatedly, it was an ear-piercing, dreadful beeping that nearly made me fall to the ground in surprise.  I immediately turned off the water in the shower and grabbed a towel (Fuck it—I’ll just leave this soap all over myself!), all while the huge beep resounded in the house.  At this point, I wasn’t sure if I was hearing the blasting of a smoke alarm or the carbon monoxide detector, and started to wonder if I was going to keel over dead right there on the spot!

The cats were freaking out. They both darted around like little bolts of black and white fur lighting.  It was a further challenge for me not to trip on the little punks.

I bolted to the origin of the sound, dripping a trail of water as I moved along, and HOPING my feet wouldn’t slip out from under me! I found where the noise was originating and was slightly relieved to realize it was indeed the smoke alarm, and not some “hidden odorless killer gas alarm”.  I snatched the it from the wall, and pressed the button.  No change!!  Still an enormous BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEEEP!!!!!!!!!!

“What, what whaaaat??? Why doesn’t the reset button work??  Is there invisible smoke here?? Is this thing haunted??  AM I ABOUT TO DIE????”

There was no other choice… I had to disassembling the thing. I couldn’t pull it apart at first, and my ears thought they were dying from the loud noise reverberating through the house!  I momentarily debated on throwing it against the ground as hard as I could to try to break it open, while at the same time vaguely wondering if blood was dripping out of my ear canals, because the sound felt THAT painful!  After some seconds of fumbling, I was finally able to remove the battery, and that made the insanity-invoking bleeps stop!

In short, this was me this morning:

Naked, dripping soapy water all over the floor, battling a smoke alarm, hoping not to die with only one shaved leg.

Happy Monday, Ya’ll!

Cousin Wisdom

One of my life-long best friends is my cousin, Jessie. Ever since we were small, we have managed to inadvertently involve ourselves in shenanigans.  Most recently, I realized that this has never changed through all these years!  Our daily lives are busy, so we don’t see each other as often as when we were young, but when we DO get together, things just…happen!  Some things I’ve learned from my cousin over the years, in NO particular order:

  1. When driving around a sharp curve in a three-wheeled golf cart, don’t speed.
  2. If you partially tip a golf cart so that your passenger and the tin of cookies they’re carrying fly to the ground, gather the spilled cookies back into the tin and tell no one.
  3. People can’t tell the difference in taste when cookies have been spilled in the dirt if you pick out all the rocks and leaves. In other words, family members enjoy dirt cookies just as much as regular shortbread cookies.
  4. If you have a pillow fight, don’t use a down-filled pillow. The quill portion of some of the small feathers WILL scratch the fuck out of your face.
  5. Nail-polish doesn’t stay on turtles’ shells forever.
  6. If it is your first time ever getting drunk, stay away from the Goldschlager, no matter how pretty you think those flakes of gold look when drinking directly from the bottle.
  7. Do NOT try to use the turntables at a party when drunk on Goldschlager. It WILL sound like a train wreck. This is not arguable.
  8. Fad diets that include bacon don’t actually work.
  9. When driving several hours to pick up a recently purchased puppy, be aware that you are entering banjo territory. There are several places a body can be buried.
  10. If you get pulled over for speeding, but have a puppy in the car, you will not get a ticket.
  11. Osceola Cheese employees will be pissed off if you arrive to taste their cheeses 5 minutes before they close.
  12. Speed limits don’t actually exist. Not even when driving a Uhaul.
  13. When moving heavy objects in a garage, avoid trash cans that contain gigantic shards of glass, aka ass shanks.
  14. Pulling your pants down to reveal a glass-shard ass-shanking will elicit NO pity.
  15. If someone accidentally locks the Uhaul keys inside the vehicle while parked in a shady neighborhood, the Locksmith who comes to “rescue” you will probably rip you off.
  16. Uhaul doesn’t keep spare keys.
  17. There are questionable characters wandering around storage spaces–ones who recently lost money and will yell about it at random while wanting to punch things.
  18. Veterinary offices in banjo-land ONLY accept checks or cash. They also ironically have dead animals on the wall.
  19. One cannot fit three truckloads of stuff into a 5’ by 10’ space.
  20. It’s okay to spend three hours at a restaurant, while laughing 85% of the time.

 

Classy…Maybe?

We (my band and I) played a show last Saturday night. It went extremely well, and the venue was spectacular.

Well…except one, teensy thing…

When I arrived, there was an hour before we took the stage. The crowd in the room was thick, and pushing my way through the steampunk-themed guests was a challenge.  Approximately 10 minutes passed before I made my way from the front door to the coat rack and then to the back of the room, where the stage was set up.  At that time, it occurred to me that Mother Nature was calling.  I glanced around the area and could not find where the restrooms were located.  I found someone who had been there since the event began and asked, discovering that they were near the entrance of the huge hall, from where I’d just fought through throngs of people to escape to the stage!

Well…it’s either fight my way back through the hoards or pee my panties…

So the challenge was on! I felt like a rogue, helplessly outnumbered, darting and squeezing through the crowd. Five minutes later, I was back to the front of the building, and soon, I knew, sweet release would come my way!

I ambled into the Women’s room, and immediately headed to the furthest stall. On my final approaching step, my foot slipped from under me!  Stumbling slightly, I did not fall to the ground, but that is how I noticed there was a puddle there.  I glanced at the water under my foot with momentary puzzlement, and then peered into the stall.  The toilet bowl was filled to the brim with water!  It had obviously overflowed at one point and the damage had not yet been contained.

FUCK!!! I’m standing in piss-water!!???  (At that moment, I had a flashback to the last time something like this happened to me: https://leahwould.com/2014/11/18/1321/ )

Nature was still calling at that moment, and I decided to put the fact out of my mind that someone else’s diluted urine was now on my shoe. I entered the second stall, and at a glance, re-exited a split second later.

This one, too???

A quick peek into the final open stall confirmed my fear—all three toilets were filled to the brim with light-yellow water and wads of toilet paper.

Oh Fucking Craptastic! I have THREE People’s diluted piss-water on my shoe!!!!!!!

I had to find a different bathroom, and fast, because if I didn’t, I’d be adding more UNDILUTED piss to my shoes…and the floor. I looked at the sink for a moment.

Hmm…that COULD be…NO! No effing way… I was NOT peeing in the sink at an upscale fucking venue!! Put the thought out of your mind, Leah! JEEZ!!!

I rushed out of the room and immediately reported the issue to the table of volunteers next to the front door. When I asked where a different bathroom was located, I received three bewildered stares.  These girls had no idea where another one was.  I’m willing to bet they were starting to panic, themselves, due to the fact that drinks were in abundance and they would likely need the facilities soon as well.

One of them pointed towards a man in a police uniform and told me that he might know where another bathroom could be found. I asked him, and his response was unexpected.  I figured maybe there was a single stall upstairs…or somewhere in the back of the building.

NO.

He explained that the bathroom I could use would be found in a different building altogether! I had to walk outside in the freezing cold temperature, while wearing my short, sleeveless dress and heels, to the end of the block, and into that corner building!  That is where I would find salvation.

OH! Is that all!!?

Not to mention I was still holding back Niagra Falls, because at this point, the entire can of Monster Energy Drink I’d slammed in under 10 minutes beforehand had decided to rear its ugly head in the form of “YOU GOTTA PEE NOW!!!!”

So I began the trek down the block. The temperature was bitter and the wind chill was even worse.

Well…at least if I piss myself, it’ll probably freeze instantly into a giant pee-cicle that I could merely chuck down that alleyway or something…

I arrived at the corner building, and walked into the front door. In the back of that room, I saw a group of ladies in a huddle, talking.  I assumed they were there for the bathroom, too.

“Hi! Are you waiting for the bathroom??”

They all gave me a knowing smile and said that they were finished with that single-room restroom…. But there was criteria to using it…

Criteria???? What?? There are bathroom rules for using the BACKUP Bathroom??? What the fuck??

One woman continued, “The water pipes leak, so you have to turn the water off after using the bathroom. It’s turned off now, so just turn it Lefty Loosy (Yes, she felt the need to tell me which way to turn it, as if I was some sort of idiot.) to turn the water back on, and be careful, because it sprays out a bit when you do that, and then when done, turn it Righty tighty!  Remember, Lefty loosy first, and then righty tighty when finished!”  (I am quoting this person.)

I nodded, but pretty sure my mouth was agape at the fact that not only was this bathroom messed up, but the way this woman talked to me like a child was seriously disturbing.

I entered the bathroom as the gaggle of women exited the building. Sure enough, as I turned the water on, there was a bit of a spray-back, but I dodged it.  I smiled, because FINALLY, I would have reprieve.

And I did….

As I finished, I heard another group of people walk into the next room. I made mental note to tell them about the water situation as I walked to the sink to wash my hands.

While distracted by my thoughts, I pumped the soap….IT SHOT STRAIGHT TOWARDS ME!! The soap’s aim was apparently NOT my hand that was poised underneath its spout, but instead, my dress and legs!!

I stood, frozen, for just a moment, with soap on the bottom of my dress and running down my leg!

Fuck!! I have to take the stage in thirty minutes, and now I look like I have a load of jizz all over me!! DAMN IT!!!!!!! And where are the paper towels!!???

Frantically, I look around the tiny room. After thirty seconds of sheer panic, I found refuge in a small cabinet.  I wipe my legs and frantically scrubbed at the bottom of my black (with a now-whitish spot) dress.  I can hear the people outside of the door becoming impatient.

I peered down at my dress, thankful that the lights onstage should hide the fact that there was now a guilty-looking spot in a not-very-inconspicuous place.

Fuck it.

I made my exit.

I gave a quick warning about the broken water and the soap monster, all the while not making eye contact with the new victims of the bathroom. Hopefully their luck would be better than mine.

Soon after this debacle, I took the stage, and I held everything in my bladder for the rest of the night.

A Fate of Fire

It’s never a pleasant experience to wake up and realize you slept in the wrong position. The body decides to punish this mistake by throwing a kink in your neck…or your shoulder…or BOTH.  This was me on Saturday morning.  Then it followed me all day….like a little kink-puppy.

I made the assumption that another night’s sleep would force it away. We all know what assuming does, though, and Sunday morning brought the pain!  I stretched, I massaged it, I rolled my back with a foam roller, and even rolled a tennis ball under my shoulder blade.  (THIS was extremely painful as well.)  All this to no avail.

Luke offered to drive to the store and purchase some muscle rub cream, and I consented. Upon his return, the cream was rubbed into my neck, right shoulder, and part of my back.

What came next was not expected. My skin burst into metaphorical flames!

Holy shit!! This is how this works??  They distract you from your regular pain by giving you pain that is equal to what one finds in the depths of hell???  Or was I turning into a lava beast!??

Damn; damn; damn!! Lava beasts can’t have pet cats! Or boyfriends…or any friends, for that matter!!  I wasn’t ABOUT to let this happen.

I began to frantically wipe at my skin with a towel.

Luke looked at me, questioningly. “Don’t do that! You’ll wipe it off!”

“That’s sort of the POINT!! It’s trying to kill me! It wants to ruin my LIFE!!!”

I had demon slime on my skin, and he wanted me to LEAVE it there!!? NO!!!

Luke then explained that creams like IcyHot had about 2.5% of the working ingredient, and the cream I had slathered all over my skin contained 10% of the stuff!

Lashes!! I’d been given lashes with whips covered in razor blades and fire!!  This was no cream!  It was all a lie!!  How did I manage to consent to this!!??

I wanted to curl into a fetal position while cuddling with ice cubes, but I resisted. If I could get through this, then I could handle anything.  A walk on the sun would be mere child’s play to me after THIS!  In fact, the sun would have to be my home.  A lava monster can’t live on earth.

The minutes seemed like years. I sat there, burning, and contemplating my fate.

Finally, slowly, but surely…it ended. I survived.  I conquered.

Today, my neck continues to hurt. I’ll let it.  I’ve been to hell.  I’m not going back.  I escaped the fate of becoming the Lava Monster.

Now, I face Monday.

Related: I have some CVS Muscle Rub in my purse, currently, if anyone else wants to taste death.  I’m keeping it handy for my enemies.

Something Happened Today…

It was unavoidable.

And, all I really wanted was lunch.

If I had known what was waiting for me, I might’ve just delayed awhile before trekking across the street to my favorite food place.

My co-worker, Reagan, and I decided to go to Chipotle around 11:00 in an attempt to avoid the massive amounts of online orders that create their huge, slow-moving lines.

So far, this was a normal journey. A lovely journey, in fact!

It was a cloudy day and very light sprinkles were falling. With the hot weather lately, it felt great!  All was right with the world, and I had no major concerns!  Plus, it was Friday!!

Things were too perfect.

I should have taken that as a warning…

**Entered Chipotle.**

**Ordered food.**

**Wanted to drool and devour food right then and there, but decided to walk it back across the street to work and consume at my desk.**

**Exited restaurant.**

Let me give you an idea of what this walk looks like, after exiting the restaurant. There is an intersection where construction is currently happening.  An entire corner is destroyed, and walking across the street in that part of the intersection is impossible.  I have to cross two streets in order to return to my work building, and at this point in time, there is only ONE path available.  (I walk south to cross the first street, then turn west to cross the second street.)

As Reagan and I began to stroll across, she points out the people directly in front of us across the first street, who I had not even noticed, because my mind was on the three soft tacos full of double chicken and deliciousness.

Right before my eyes, on the corner of the street, was a gigantic van, a man with a massive video camera, and a woman with a microphone.

Shit. The guy was recording the street.  I just hoped and prayed to myself at that moment that I WASN’T in the shot.  The last thing anyone needed to see was a video of me waddling across the street towards them.

Reagan spoke under her breath, “We should try to avoid them.”

(Wise words, Reagan…wise words…)

I nodded in agreement, just as some guy in an SUV drove by them (and us) yelling, “Take 2! Take 2!” I had to laugh as I heard the cameraman say “Everyone’s a critic.”  I’m pretty sure he meant to say “comedian”, but that’s beside the point.

At that moment, avoiding the news-people had become unavoidable. The light wasn’t yet green in the direction we needed to walk.  THERE WAS NOWHERE TO GO!  We were stuck on the corner, uncomfortably waiting.  That is when the reporter woman sauntered right up to us and asked us if we knew that this particular intersection was going to become a four way stop-light.  I told her I had no idea, and she immediately asked to interview me.

What was I supposed to say???

Well…THIS……*Sigh*…..THIS……. is what I said:

“Uh…sure…okay…um….oh GAWD….” (I gave a wide-eyed expression at the camera.)

I hoped the camcorder wasn’t recording at that moment. She reassured me, saying it was just a few easy questions.

(This is the part where Reagan is just standing behind the news-people, cleverly staying out of the camera’s shot….because she’s definitely smarter than me!!)

The first question was just asking me my name. I HAD TO THINK ABOUT IT!!!!!  (In my defense, my last name DID just change back to “Wood”, due to my recent finalization of my divorce, but STILL….I HAD TO THINK ABOUT IT!)  AND she told me to spell it…and I almost spelled it like “Would”!  Derp derp derp!

I immediately regretted my decision to do this. I was NOT prepared to stand and talk in front of a camera with a microphone in my face.  PLUS, my tacos were getting cold.

The rest of the interview went a LITTLE something like this:

Reporter: Do you walk on these streets very often?

Me: *smiles* Um….oh…yeah…yes…I walk down here all the time, because Chipotle is right over there!  (I pointed and smiled way too big.)

Reporter: So do you work around here?

Me: Yes, I work in that building right there. (More pointing, more goofy, huge smiling.)

Reporter: Do you ever ride a bicycle down here?

Me: Hahahaha! Oooh no! Nope!! (Shook my head a bit TOO vigorously at that point.)  I just walk down here for lunch…at Chipotle…because…it’s…right…there….(more pointing).

Reporter: Do you feel like you’ll be safe crossing the street when the intersection is changed?

Me: Oh! I love the Pedestrian crossing signs!!

Reporter: Those will be taken out.

(I had the deer in the headlights look at this point.)

Me: Well!  As long as those drivers watch where they’re goin’!!  (I’m pretty sure I said this in a Southern accent, and I have no IDEA where that came from!)

I don’t remember what else she asked, You Guys. I kind of blanked it out.  Something about 4-way stops and maybe other things…I DON’T KNOW!  Panic was happening inside of me at that point, and my memory is gone!!  Maybe they were aliens.  I don’t fucking KNOW!!!!!

All I DO know is that I may or may not end up on KCTV5 tonight, talking a VERY little bit about the intersection, and a very LOT a bit about how, “OH yeah…I walk down here every day! I eat Chipotle EVERY Day!! GOTTA GET THAT HOT CHIPTOPIA STATUS!! FUCK YEAH CHIPOOOOOOOOTLEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!”

That’s not what I said…but it’s EXACTLY what my hungry eyes said. And since the camera adds ten pounds, know what people are going to see/hear if the news decides to use this footage??!!

“Leah and her chubby cheeks fucking adore Chipotle so much and who cares about a road and a four way stop, because all she wants to do is EAT ALL THIS CHIPOTLE and babble like an idiot in front of a camera!”

I’m just hoping when they re-watch this footage, they’ll decide to interview someone else,  and they’ll be completely regretting the fact that they even considered talking to me, a chubby, Chipotle-loving whacko.