The Anniversary Edition
By Mink
Well it is official. SingerZ has forgotten our one-year anniversary. I came home the other night wearing a racy new outfit, had the scented candles out, fried up some of his favorite goat cheese and even cleaned out that gross brownish ring that lives right about the water of my John.* (I just want to add for the record that it hasn't always been easy having a name that also stands for a place where people go to move their bowels. Yet recently I have come to embrace it, and on occasion I will even sign a thank you note or an email with a: "Sitting on the, Jon.")
Anyway, getting back to the humiliation of the forgotten anniversary....On November 19th, we reached a major milestone in our blogging relationship. We have just completed one glorious year of sharing stories about escapades involving manicures, woman cramps, haircuts, and insulting dead guys. Yet for whatever reason, SingerZ seems to take this for granted and instead chooses to live the American dream in Manhattan, spending his wild nights eating bad pizza and loudly over-analyzing Grey's Anatomy with an all- male gathering.
So I sit here alone, eating a carton of Ben and Jerry's while watching When Harry Met Sally. And I am left with no choice but to share some of my mis-adventures with anyone who is really bored at work reading this (or just to my mother's 50-something- year-old pals who apparently comprise 90 percent of our readership).
Note: All of the events below are one hundred percent accurate. Only the timing of the occurrences has been altered to enhance my debacle- filled week:
Monday was supposed to be an exciting one as I was replacing my cancer- infested '96 Accord with a "new" '01 Camry. In the previous weeks I tried to play the "educated consumer card" and began talking out of my bunghole as I asked various car dealers about V-6 engines, gas mileage and rotary girders. In reality, I was just pleased to be driving something with brakes and a radio that actually works (My old radio would work on occassion but usually I would have to bash it in with my fist for this to occur. Such violence caused many a bloody hand as well as many an awkward conversation with passengers who were convinced I had a bad case of Tourette's).
But as expected, things refused to go smoothly, and within minutes of coming into possession of my burgundy bundle of joy, I found myself garbage- bagging shut the driver- side window when it refused to go up. I then was unsuccessful in filling the tank with gasoline because the gas hatch was broken and locked shut. Finally, to add insult to injury, the seatbelt decided not to lock into place. (I don't generally use the "insult to injury" phrase but here it is applicable because after finding each little blemish with the new car, a voice inside of me actually was loudly hurling insults my way. By the time I discovered the seatbelt problem it was actually screaming, "Jon you are an ASSHOLE")
Feeling as if I had just purchased a lemon, I decided to relax by laboring on a paper for work. I actually was semi-productive for a few hours, before somehow accidentally saving the document as a temp file and then over-writing it and in the process losing about 8 hours of work. After a couple hours on the phone with the tech people and learning more than I ever want to learn about temp files, I realized it was a lost cause.
Then to cap off the smooth day, I tried to chill out with some wine and Sportscenter before retiring to sleep for the night. But somehow my bedroom television had become unplugged and I had to fumble around in the dark to reconnect the damn thing. In the process, I knocked over my cup of spare coins, scattering them into the various clothing piles that reside on my floor. At that point I threw up my hands and cried myself to sleep. Ok maybe I was laughing, but certainly not with myself (My timing must have been way off because I was constantly a few giggles off my own pace**).
That was my manic Monday and a perfect way to usher in year 2 of the Garbage Dump. Here is to another year of insanity, L'hayim. Happy Anniversary!
*For those interested in learning of the origins of the name "John" as a bathroom name check this out: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Harington
**FYI this was meant to be a pun
Well it is official. SingerZ has forgotten our one-year anniversary. I came home the other night wearing a racy new outfit, had the scented candles out, fried up some of his favorite goat cheese and even cleaned out that gross brownish ring that lives right about the water of my John.* (I just want to add for the record that it hasn't always been easy having a name that also stands for a place where people go to move their bowels. Yet recently I have come to embrace it, and on occasion I will even sign a thank you note or an email with a: "Sitting on the, Jon.")
Anyway, getting back to the humiliation of the forgotten anniversary....On November 19th, we reached a major milestone in our blogging relationship. We have just completed one glorious year of sharing stories about escapades involving manicures, woman cramps, haircuts, and insulting dead guys. Yet for whatever reason, SingerZ seems to take this for granted and instead chooses to live the American dream in Manhattan, spending his wild nights eating bad pizza and loudly over-analyzing Grey's Anatomy with an all- male gathering.
So I sit here alone, eating a carton of Ben and Jerry's while watching When Harry Met Sally. And I am left with no choice but to share some of my mis-adventures with anyone who is really bored at work reading this (or just to my mother's 50-something- year-old pals who apparently comprise 90 percent of our readership).
Note: All of the events below are one hundred percent accurate. Only the timing of the occurrences has been altered to enhance my debacle- filled week:
Monday was supposed to be an exciting one as I was replacing my cancer- infested '96 Accord with a "new" '01 Camry. In the previous weeks I tried to play the "educated consumer card" and began talking out of my bunghole as I asked various car dealers about V-6 engines, gas mileage and rotary girders. In reality, I was just pleased to be driving something with brakes and a radio that actually works (My old radio would work on occassion but usually I would have to bash it in with my fist for this to occur. Such violence caused many a bloody hand as well as many an awkward conversation with passengers who were convinced I had a bad case of Tourette's).
But as expected, things refused to go smoothly, and within minutes of coming into possession of my burgundy bundle of joy, I found myself garbage- bagging shut the driver- side window when it refused to go up. I then was unsuccessful in filling the tank with gasoline because the gas hatch was broken and locked shut. Finally, to add insult to injury, the seatbelt decided not to lock into place. (I don't generally use the "insult to injury" phrase but here it is applicable because after finding each little blemish with the new car, a voice inside of me actually was loudly hurling insults my way. By the time I discovered the seatbelt problem it was actually screaming, "Jon you are an ASSHOLE")
Feeling as if I had just purchased a lemon, I decided to relax by laboring on a paper for work. I actually was semi-productive for a few hours, before somehow accidentally saving the document as a temp file and then over-writing it and in the process losing about 8 hours of work. After a couple hours on the phone with the tech people and learning more than I ever want to learn about temp files, I realized it was a lost cause.
Then to cap off the smooth day, I tried to chill out with some wine and Sportscenter before retiring to sleep for the night. But somehow my bedroom television had become unplugged and I had to fumble around in the dark to reconnect the damn thing. In the process, I knocked over my cup of spare coins, scattering them into the various clothing piles that reside on my floor. At that point I threw up my hands and cried myself to sleep. Ok maybe I was laughing, but certainly not with myself (My timing must have been way off because I was constantly a few giggles off my own pace**).
That was my manic Monday and a perfect way to usher in year 2 of the Garbage Dump. Here is to another year of insanity, L'hayim. Happy Anniversary!
*For those interested in learning of the origins of the name "John" as a bathroom name check this out: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Harington
**FYI this was meant to be a pun
posted by The Mink at 2:19 AM
4 Comments:
Happy anniversary, It was truly a great year for me, What would my work day consist of if I didn't have this blog?
Wishing you many more years of happiness together!
I"m sorry about your car :(
hahahaha.... I also always seem to have days like that
You're an idiot.
Words of wisdom for taking care of your new car:
1. When parked next to a cement pole in a parking garage, be careful not to take off your sideview mirror while pulling out of the spot.
2. Do not fill your tank with Diesel gasoline.
Oh, wait a second, if youre one to learn from your mistakes, you must be at the stage of already applying these words of wisdom!
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