It Isn't Always About Penises

Sometimes, it's about googly eyes.

Other times, it's about dicks

We finally got our new line in this week. The guy who's doing the set up is a real piece of work.

Today, he wants to do some training. Right before break of course. So fine, I can always catch a smoke later right?

Then he proceeds to stand around shooting the shit like it's a Sunday and we're passing time over some beers.

Him wasting my time made my answer to the next problem real easy. He wanted to schedule four hours of training on this new line for down time.

Seriously?

Over the last two weeks I worked 150 of the possible 336 hours. My answer was pretty blunt.

Nope, I'm not doing it. I'm not coming in on a Sunday. I'm not coming in for training at 10pm on a weekday either.

It ain't happening.

A Rant Followed By A Touching Story of Tomato Love

This post was going to be all about Valentine's day - in my own sarcastic fashion. Sometimes plans change though and first I've got to do a bit of a rant.

When my ex and I split, it was written into the divorce decree that he would have the kids one weeknight for dinner - in addition to his weekends. Now that they're older, of course the 21 year old doesn't want to go. Hasn't gone for years really - but we'll save that story for another day.

The 17 year old? He still goes. Which is cool. I know that both boys need to have their own relationship with their dad. It's important to their future happiness.

I'm also cool with the fact that work sometimes gets in the way of life - to a point. Tuesday is the regular night. If you can't come Tuesday then you had better come Wednesday.

He didn't. His unreliability was one of the contributing factors to our divorce.

Now 3 nights of planned meals were and will be shot to shit, and everybody's on edge and twitchy because our routine for the week is totally fucked. 

It also means that because I was kind of counting on him, I ran errands after work and didn't get home until after 6. So now not only am I feeding one I wasn't planning on feeding, I'm starting late.

Of course nobody thought to feed the animals. Either that or the animals didn't bother asking anyone else since I think they figure my sole purpose in life is seeing to their needs. Much like kids?

So I threw myself a nice little hissy fit and started cleaning up the days accumulation of crap and garbage. I ask you - why do we need to have 3 bread bags each containing one slice of bread and a crust sitting on top of the microwave? If you have no plans of eating it just throw the shit away.

Then I swept the floors, because I prefer to sweep before I vacuum. Takes care of those big nasty chunks of stick and plastic water bottle from the dog's chewing. As I was walking by the counter with the broom I noticed the piles of bread crumbs on the counter.

Yeah, I totally used the broom to sweep those fuckers into the dustpan.

Anyhow, moving on to Valentines. I'm not a fan but here's a special Valentine's story just for you.

Girl Meets...

Guy.

Has Baby

Has another one.

Gets Fat.

The End

Thank you to everyone who voted for my blog in the Circle of Moms contest. I'm pleased with how well I did and it wouldn't have been possible without you voting for me. It's over now. Whew!

Erotic Veggies, Captcha, And Why I Am Socially Inept

Remember how I said the ladies at work were gifting me with any erotic veggies they came across? Well they're still at it.

 I mean look at this lovely trio of peckerheads they gifted me with today. 

I've learned a couple of things this week. How to make a badge was probably the hardest. You can find all kinds of places with pretty good instructions - the hard part was getting the picture to the right size. Go on, grab my ass if you like.

Being a multi-tasker, I also learned how to add text to my photos.

I have decided that captcha is my mortal enemy. Captcha I effing hatechya.

There has to be some little tit dweeb IT guy out there laughing his ass off when we get the motherfuckers wrong. Almost words, gobbledygook and blurry numbers. If I forget my glasses at work I'm toast.

When I get voted ruler of the world every single captcha ever will be instantly solvable by typing I'm drunk. Obviously if you're drunk you can't be a robot.

And I've figured out why I am socially inept. It's because I think in a foreign language. That's right - I think in Bitch.

It all makes sense now. I'm out in public trying to have a real life convo, and it's awkward as hell. Always. But like any person who thinks in a foreign language, I've got to translate my thoughts into your language before I can say them out loud.

It's tough, and not every thing I think has a translation. Sometimes a lot gets lost in the translation like every shred of personality I have. Sometimes I wish more got lost in the translation - it would save me some of those more shameful incidents.

I leave you with this.

 

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Bling, Buttons And Memes

I'm sorry, I haven't got any new fresh veggie porn to share today. I didn't really mean that pun, but it's good isn't it?

I can tell you my high spirited ladies were quite tickled with tomato man. They've upped their phallic tomato offerings. So the fresh ones were there, just ahem - undersized.

Today's post will be brief - as I seem to have a lot of irons in the fire tonight.

I am over at Yeah Write this week and the rules for participating are you read every blog that links - I'm halfway there. If you haven't visited - you totally should. Really, it's the best community out there for bloggers. Erica is pretty strict on the quality, so what is there is great and there's something for everyone.

I have a half launched Facebook page that needs some serious bling added to it. I really want to thank the people that have already stroked my like button - I like it. For the pages that have liked, I'll be stroking back so I can share your awesomeness.

I want to create a badge so all of you can share the natural wonder of a Cocktail Tomato in Assless Chaps - I've never done it before so the learning curve is steep! But I will push on through and sooner or later you all will be able to have your own Tomato Man, well I guess that's if you actually want to have a Tomato Man.

Speaking of Tomato Man - don't you think he's just begging to be made into some memes? I do so I've been busily thinking up punchy little slogans I can print across his awesome hiney. If you've got one, feel free to post it in the comments.

So far my best is Does This Romaine Make My Ass Look Fat?, Hey There Cowboy, Keep Your Horse Away From My Junk and Should I Wax?

Plus I'm already looking for Cocktail Tomato boobs - we'll use some wilted celery hearts with the leaves for arms and lettuce for a robe and dammit I've got to build a lounge of some sort for her to recline on. Maybe a divan?

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Bloody Beef, My Tomato Hunk, And Men's Yoga Pants

I'm just back from New Years Day dinner at mom's. No, I'm not posting late - we had it today. She said it was because she was going out for New Years Eve. I think it was just because she was tired of everyone showing up hungover. Myself? Sunday and New Years Day are pretty much the same thing.

Ever go to a big family dinner and wish there was no dinner, just the nibbles before hand? Yeah, me too. Every time.

The only thing missing here is my tomato hunk. Sadly, he was incapable of standing on his own two feet.

The other thing that was missing? My mom saying Oh my head! I shouldn't have had that second glass of wine right before the potatoes needed to be mashed. But she did say my Uncle wanted the riper roast beef. We knew what she meant though - the pink roast beef instead of the bleeding roast beef. Even though my Uncle would really prefer the brown roast beef. He likes it a bit deader than the rest of them.

I wish the baby talk had been missing.

It is exciting there will be another baby in the family. I'm even more excited that it isn't coming from one of the Asshats.

I'm not so excited that I want to hear about it endlessly. We have only one or two family dinners to go until the baby is born. Then we'll get to hear about poopy diapers and leaky boobs.

This would be a good year to go to a tropical island for Christmas.

At least her husband offered up some funny moments for our entertainment.

The Baby Daddy: I remember once when I was little I was rolling a penny around in my mouth while I was watching Cinderella and all of a sudden whoops, it was gone.

My Brother: You might want to change that to watching Transformers when you tell the story.

The Baby Daddy: But it wasn't. It was Cinderella. She had just lost her slipper.

A little later I overheard that he wanted to have a co-ed baby shower. I told him that his buddies would hate him forever and permanently revoke his man card. I'm female and I never willingly attend a baby shower. I'm sure most - as in all - men are grateful that only women have to suffer through these things.

I also promptly told my cousin that two showers in under 12 months was unacceptable.

Then the conversation turned to yoga pants. It started out baby related until The Baby Daddy said he wanted some. I've Googled Men's Yoga pants and google has finally made up for some of the scarring that Google Images has caused me in the past.

Oh yes, I could get into men in yoga pants. But only if they look like this, because you know if this ever trends it will be the 300 pound man wearing yoga pants sans underwear that we'll get to see at Walmart. Most likely there will be a hole somewhere in his super-sized yoga pants that gives us a peak at something he hasn't seen without a mirror for the past decade as well. 

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Crackers and Assless Chaps.

The boyfriend and I enjoyed relaxing and having coffee together this morning. Well I enjoyed it, he was probably wishing I would get off of my tablet (what I use when my big girl computer is unavailable) and actually converse. Then it was time to go.

Boyfriend: So your mom is having dinner tonight?

Me: Yep.

Boyfriend: Are you going to make those crackers?

Me: What crackers?

Boyfriend: Those crackers I told you about.

The crackers he told me about. The ones I've never seen, let alone tasted. The ones that take ingredients I don't have and require that you toss them every 10 minutes for an hour. Those crackers.

Me: Nope. I'll be lucky if I find time to shower before dinner. See you later. 

I mean after all, I've got to buy ingredients to make my food porn and then figure out how to get it to look exactly like what I see in my mind. This is important business I've got planned for my Sunday afternoon.

Until then, for you people who resolved to hit the gym a little more? I bring you a preview of what you will see in the change room at old lady o'clock.

For some reason we aren't allowed to pack these ones either - in this case I can see why.

Also? If you tell a group of high-spirited Jamaican ladies that you need that tomato so you can make it assless chaps out of Romain leaves they will start gifting you with the oddball tomatoes.

Look at the one they gifted me with yesterday.

I swear I blushed. Could you imagine if I worked in cucumbers?

It did not quite turn out as hoped. Fresh romaine is not flexible like the romaine that is usually in my fridge. Also I had planned to build a frame out of wire coat hangers. Do you still have any of those? I don't. 

I asked #1 Asshat what it reminded him of. He told me it was no David - but then I pointed out the dangly bit. 

 

PS Those crackers are Firecrackers, I have provided the link so you don't have to Google it and get the recipes for how to make marijuana firecrackers which I'm sure are something entirely different. I'm also sure I can't find those ingredients at the grocery store.

Snovels, Cocktail Tomatoes and Assless Chaps

Last night I typed show snovelling and then spent at least two minutes trying to figure out if snovelling had one "L" or 2. This left me a little worried that I may be losing my mental faculties.

But today was a new day and I'm somewhat rested so things are back to normal.

I saw the perfect ass - on a tomato. 

This one had something even more special though.

We aren't allowed to pack these ones. I don't know why. I would pay extra to get a cocktail tomato that looked like this. It would make your veggie tray. Just think of how many conversations that cocktail tomato could start.

Then I started thinking. Any ass that great deserves some legs and assless chaps am I right? So I brought the tomato home. Sometime between now and Sunday dinner I'm going to build that tomato some legs out of carrots or maybe pickles. Then I'll use some baby romaine leaves to make it the assless chaps it deserves. My mother will be so pleased that I've finally made a contribution to a big family meal.

I've got to hide it until then though. If Numero Uno Asshat finds it first he'll graffiti pubic hair on what is clearly an ass - not balls.

Ethel, I told you to quit fertilizing the tomatoes with my Viagra!