Returning to say Hello

We had a nice weekend until our basement drainage pipe decided to call it quits.  Again.  This happens about once a year, when our feces come up to tell us where they've been.

"Hey!  You know how you flushed me three days ago!  Well, just thought you should know I've been hanging out in that pipe... until now... Hello!"

And this is the part when I gag and hate my drainage pipe with a burning rage.  Luckily we caught it before the puddle got too large, however once the drain says, "No more traffic allowed," we can't use the water.

Because if you do, the puddle just gets bigger.  The puddle filled with poo and Jesus knows what else.

(Hold on, gagging, holding vomit back)





So I called the Roto-Rooter guy out to run a snake down.  Again.

You should have seen the ball of roots he pulled out.

Imagine that a guinea pig took up residence in our drainage pipe and set up house, and got fat off of... I'll let you answer that.

But he pulled that guinea pig out (it was more sliced out, with this weird rotating blade) and now our pipe is clear.  Unfortunately, that damned guinea pig (giant balls of roots) will grow back and start this whole disgusting process over again.

However, if we want it to remain clear it would cost almost $7000 to rid our house of the problem.  Also, the solution would probably kill the shrubbery out front, and possibly break our awesome AC unit, because a bunch of plumbers would have to come and dig holes to access said evil pipe and burst it.

When the Roto guy pitched this to me he made it sound as if this decision would be made soon and we would have him right back to fix the problem.

Um, huh?  I was standing in my hallway, in my cow pajama's and worn old slippers holding JG.  What about me said I'm made out of money?

So, now I've got to devise a plan to douse my concrete floor with bleach to kill any poo particles still hanging on for dear life.  Sorry, poo, but I flushed you for a reason.

Now stay there.

Just Curious...

So...

Tiger Woods is a cheater, which I honestly have to say I am not that surprised about.

Think about it, if you were the most popular man on earth, and you could have or do anything you wanted, what would you do?

Okay, maybe your answer is not to cheat on your hot model wife, but hey, everyone to their own taste.

The only thing I am surprised about, appalled really, is his taste in women (other than his hot model wife).  I mean, if you're going to go outside of your marriage for, whatever it was he went for, wouldn't you go for the other hot models?  Or other beautiful women?

Not the trashy, bleached her own hair, has face piercings, looks like a hooker but isn't?  I mean, at least a high paid escort will keep your secrets, and is probably ten-times more attractive than the dozen or so ladies he stepped out on his wife with.

Wait, not ladies... lady is a word reserved for a woman of high-class, who is thoughtful enough not to sleep with another woman's husband.  Tiger did not cheat on his wife with ladies, he cheated on his wife with what looks to me like... well, trash.

What an idiot.  Even worse though, an idiot with bad taste.

Frustration

Have you ever felt like a bottle rocket? All the pressure is building up inside of your head and chest, but there is absolutely nowhere for it to go? And if you could EXPLODE terrible consequences would ensue?

Argh.

After spending another night with my crying/gassy/colicky baby I am beside myself with frustration. Earlier she finally fell asleep on me, and with high hopes of making dinner I put her in her crib. However, three minutes later she was up and crying again... and continued crying until about thirty minutes ago, when I fed her (she screamed the whole time), gave her gas stuff (miracle fluid) and she belched loudly several times -- then she felt better enough to keep eating and fall asleep on my boob.

Transfer to cradle was successful. Thank God.

Anyway, during this fun marathon, Alex and I argued about why she was crying and he left to go for a walk.

Frustrated. You know, I don't make anything anymore. I should have finished those damn chickens for my sister before JGR came because I have no idea when I will be able to sit down again in my sewing room (which is really the office/craft/guest room) and work on my hilarious testi-chickens. Because, I swear to Jesus, they still look like a guys junk, even with beaks.

So. I'm sitting in the dark trying to calm myself down enough to keep reading the new book, "The City and The City," by China Mieville (whom I love freakishly, this being the fifth book of his I've read... and three of those books bordered or surpassed 1,000 pages). It's like an addiction. But I'm currently... shall we say, unable to focus.

Hope all is going well for you (three) readers. I'm going to go curl up in my den and try to read.