My Man is obsessive about the floors, what is with the men and floors?!
I think he just might divorce me and marry the steam cleaner, the MAN probably gets more satisfaction from it than me! OK maybe not.
My complaint, my complaint is that he does it at the most inconvenient moments. Like when we are going to be having people over, and well it takes so much longer to dry on a cold day, or we need to be going somewhere in an hour, but where's the Man.
There he is steam cleaning the damn carpets!
I swear I am just waiting for the corners to start peeling up, I mean have you heard of MOLD Monkey? Excessive amounts of water, not properly drying up, MOLD.
I just wish he would channel that energy into something like the bathroom, where the pee on the floor is DEFINITELY not from me!
Hey at least I am not emasculating like the script wife of Jack Nicholson in ABOUT SCHMIDT. There is no one here berating the Man to sit down to pee or even the boy for that matter.
I woke up the other day and smelled something. It smelled kind of like the Hippies at Hemp Fest in Nelson. It smelled, it smelled like smelly pits & dirty hair.
Aww CRAP! It was ME. Holy hairy arm pits BATMAN!
At least I am in Academy Award winning actress company.
One benefit of not having the man around, is well, I don't necessarily need to cut down the Old Growth Forest, you know, shave the legs, ALL the time. Yes all you high maintenance gals can act all disgusted with me, but to me its such a hassle. But hey, I shower everyday, sometimes twice, why wouldn't I have shaved, at least the pits, whatever about the legs.
Hey who's that near the stubble?
Damn it! The man took the razor with him, GRRRRRRRR!
Not too long ago, I was scouring the bathroom for the Costco stock of deodorant, my Gillete Lady razor, and my face moisturizer. They couldn't be found anywhere, except in the man's gym bag. Really honey, Venus breeze & Dove deodorant. Were you not the laughing stock at the gym? I even busted him using my Sephora Vanilla Birthday body wash, he thought it was hair conditioner.
I may not be super high maintenance, but I will cover up the greys, shave/wax the pits, and well, wax the STACHE, as in Moustache. Yes, you heard that correctly, I am admitting to an excess amount of body hair above the lip, more becoming on a pre-pubescent boy than a woman in her late thirties.
We LOVINGLY call it the FuManChu.
Being Half Japanese, I don't know how inappropriate or racist it may sound, but have you seen the size of Mr. Chu's stache? Well that is what it feels like on my face. When I think it is getting out of hand, I can always ask the man. If it is really bad he throws in a little, "AH SO! Naomi-san". Totally mixing asian and oriental here but I am milking my halfness to the best of my ability.
I looked in the mirror, after my de-hippefying shower, and noticed a whisker. Seriously, like the stereotypical kind you find growing out of a mole. Do they get darker and thicker as you get older?
Having the man away isn't helpful when it comes to trying to maintain your beauty. Threading is quick and cheap but difficult with children running around, and appointments for hair and waxing are definitely out, still need a sitter who is available. Hello drugstore. I always get the only male clerk when trying to check out, and the damn makeup lady was busy making-over someone.
I don't care when it comes to tampons or pads, live with it buddy, but facial body hair remover is somewhat embarassing, especially when I couldn't find any tweezers and was sporting the big ol' fat cat whiskers.
I just didn't make eye contact, tried to hide it with the other stuff, and bolted with the kids pronto.
This is from another blog I started, but a lot of you have been asking about the Monkey thing again, so here goes, new and improved...
12 years ago...actually longer than that. I was working as the Head Waitress/Serving Wench at the infamous BlarneyStone in Gastown.
Do you know this bar/club? Most people have some stories, I believe Killarney is still playing there.
Our then new manger, LG, let a company put in a one of those machines stuffed full of ungettable stuffies that you try to win by manoeuvring this metal claw around them, pick them up, and then drop them into the chute...the chute, that a small child/girl/boy can climb up and into the machine by, see below.
OK picture 3 waitresses, bored, waiting for customers, and having a whole float full of stuffy machine fun coins. Most of these machines are rigged so its pretty much impossible to win a stuffy for your loonie, it usually takes enough loonies that you have spent too much, way more than the damn thing is worth!!! Well lets just say that it got to the point, that if we won one, we had school girl hissy fits and proudly displayed our stuffy/later-to-be drinking companion at the serving station. One night I won George. He had suction cups on all fours and I think at the time displaying a stuffed animal on your inside car window was cool/trendy/tacky.
Of course living downtown I think I had already crashed my, bought new, '92 Turbo Tercel and personally I was TOO COOL to be displaying a stuffy in it. After winning him that night, George led a reasonably quiet life, that was until I met my now man Christopher W.
Chris has a BRILLIANT sense of humour. I mean ya gotta to handle this lady's laugh. It has been likened to that of a machine gun. He basically started animating George and well at that point I was constantly using 'Cheeky Monkey' in order to mock my British Best Friends English sayings. We had been going out for some time, when I believe I got angry with Chris and I just shouted MONKEY, in an angry scolding tone and that was it.
We lovingly and angrily used MONKEY, as well, pet names for each other. Yes I know, gag, its time to THROW UP. Hey at least its not like my man's brothers nicknames for their significant others,Chumpys and Pacos. Exactly what is a Chumpy, for that matter what is a Paco?! I do believe we won out in the nickname category. The only unfortunate occurrence, is that for the last 12 years we have been receiving stuffed monkeys out our ying-yang.
STOP people! I have this large antique cradle that basically holds the majority of them but I have MORE. I have even donated them, but alas stuffys are not desirable items at the good thrift stores.
They definitely DO NOT want them for toy drives, unless that is they are brand spanking new.
***Nickname Derivatives of Monkey: MonkeeMama; MPT= Monkee Pants Tanaka; MonkeePaPa; MPJ = Monkee Pants Jesson; MarioMonkey-when I drive too fast; the rest to be updated at a later time....basically an ongoing process.
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