Sunday, March 19, 2006

Tie me to a runaway horse....

I. feel. like. death.

I knew that midnight trip to IHOP was likely to signal the onslaught of amoebic dysentery. *bangs head against wall*

I just turned one of my popup blockers off to spell check and I have no idea how to get it back on. There it is! Got it back on. That's probably the one good thing that will happen all day.

OK, I'm gonna rant and bitch and feel sorry for myself. Why? Because Spring Break is over. You may be thinking, "Hey! Andi, look at the bright side, you've got today! You've got today to stay in your pj's and eat fatty food and lust after celebrities! It's ok! Most people don't get a spring ungrateful, rabid bitch!"

But it is over today. I hate Sundays. Sundays are like death. They may technically symbolize a beginning...the beginning of the week...yadda yadda. But I hate Sundays. I always get ultra-bitchy on Sundays and usually end up arguing with someone.

Apparently, before we left school for Spring Break, I became a crack addict and didn't know, because I said I would teach one of my prof's classes all this next week. Beginning tomorrow. At noon. Adolescent lit. Now, on the one level, I'm REALLY grateful for the opportunity! She'll be in there..watching..interacting. She'll help me improve. Yeah! Right on! But on the other hand, she'll be there. Watching. Critiquing. Observing. Oh God. There's the dysentery again. *grumble*

I don't know what I was thinking. I can't be held responsible if it was momentary hysteria and mental instability, right? It's been a long time since I taught lit, and I don't think I did very well the first time around. *stabs self in nasal cavity with pitchfork*

Funny story before I go curl up in the fetal position.

Yesterday it rained. Actually, it's still raining. A torrential flood for Texas after that long draught. We're thinking of fashioning an ark from coffee stirrers and the above-ground pool.

So, it's been raining. Torrentially.

Smidgen is a bit picky about her potty conditions. She's 15 pounds of 16-year-old dog, she hates the rain, noise and too much physical contact scares her. It would've been traumatic to put her out in the back yard on the stepping stones to do her biz because the rain/noise/etc. would've scared the 16-year-old fur right off her. So my mother asked me to take her, on her leash, out on the front porch to do a tinkle. I was dressed (sort of...Snoopy tee and workout pants) and mom was in her jammies. So I said yes, harnessed the pup up and out we went onto the porch, which, I should mention, is privatified by waist-high box hedges. So we go, she finds the flower bed, under the hedges, and squats. *thumbs up to mom in the door watching* She then proceeds to crawl on through the tiniest opening in the hedges, out into the rain, on her leash, with me holding onto the other side in a compromising position. I couldn't let go of the leash and scamper around to the other side because she's a runner and would be gone in a flash before I even got around the hedges (longgg porch...longggg hedges). I couldn't jump over because fluffy girls don't even think of doing shit like that and I wanted to live to see my life after Spring Break (even though now I see it might've been better to impale myself on a hedge). Mom's still in her jammies, so she runs for a housecoat. Smidgen is getting drenched, looking none too happy about it. I'm hunched over trying to bribe her back through the hedges. Scooby and Dash are watching, laughing, and pointing with their droll doggy eyebrows. Finally, mom returns with housecoat in place, takes the leash, and I run, in my comfortables out into the rain, pick up the soaking wet dog-smelling dog, and run back to the safety of the porch.

Last night, before bed. We put her out on the stepping stones in the rain, and she was FINE. We're fuckin' stupid humans.

In my head: Blah blah wah wah yadda pfffffft!


  1. Hey--you'll do fine next week!

    Didn't you know that pets like to fuck with their owners?

  2. I feel your pain. I'm dreading the return to the grind as well.

    Technically, I'm supposed to be reading for rhetoric. But it's the kind of day when all I want to do is sit here and listen to music.

    Your mixed CD has expanded into a multi-volume collection, by the way. I didn't want to discriminate against some really good songs for the stupid reason of not having enough room on 1 CD.
    You probably now have a good 3 hours worth of music.

  3. Os, thanks! And, yes, they fuck with me quite often, but I didn't think she'd be cruel or motivated enough to fuck with me in the rain.

    Elise, yuck@rhetoric. I've been reading for Pict. Books and need to work up a post. Blah blah and blah. And wow! You're a saint. We'll have something to listen to in the WC tomorrow!

  4. The bright side is vastly over-rated Andi :)

  5. Amen, Suzz. I think we should all have that bumper sticker.

  6. I've long hated Sundays. Well, the day part is okay, because it's just relaxing. But the evening I start to feel sick thinking life is all over and pretty soon I have to go to bed and then to school/work/whatever the real world requires. Blah is right.

  7. I've been a Sunday hater since about 3rd grade. It's that creeping feeling of dread that comes on in the late afternoon, knowing you're running out of time and will finally have to show your parents the note from teacher you were supposed to get signed and take it back to school Monday morning. I used to get a lot of those notes.

    I used to think that was the whole reason for the association till my mom told me she had always hated Sundays. Now I'm afraid I'll unconsciously pass it on to my own kids. One more thing to feel mother guilt about!

    It was a nice rain though. From now on I'll try to associate Sundays with you, Snoopy, and a dog named Smidgen. (in my mind I think I'll make Smidgen a St. Bernard)

  8. Quill,
    I usually feel sick, but yesterday I just ended up napping for hours on end. Ugg. Now I've gotten too much sleep and feel like ass.

    *bitch bitch moan*

  9. Catie,
    Feel NO guilt for passing the Sunday-hatin' on to your kids. It's a rite of passage I say.

    Smidgen as a St. Bernard makes me tired. lol

  10. oh believe me i can feel your pain. each morning i struggle to pull back the duvet and find a smart outfit that doesnt have make up stains on it.

    four more days of this shit until the weekend.....


  11. nice.

    now get on the can and stink up the powder room.

  12. AMS, darling, it's early in the week to be this bitter. But I am too, so I won't say anymore.

    Johnny, you're so eloquent.


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