But There's A Hole In My Bucket, part 2

Yeah, I know. I haven't blogged in a while. It's not just that I've been busy; it's that it takes so much effort to just get one thing done, you know? The universe puts out one obstacle after another. 

One morning, for instance, I wake up and say to myself, "I am going to blog today". 

But first I have to brush my teeth because I heard on Dr. Oz a few months ago that nighttime tooth bacteria can cause heart attacks. I think. Or world war. I'm not sure but either way, I'm not taking chances. So I go into the bathroom to brush my teeth and I see that my Sonicare toothbrush hasn't been recharged because I threw out the charger thing last week when I saw how funky it was all crusted with old toothpaste and shit and I didn't have time to clean it because I was already late for my physical therapy appointment. Which I canceled on my way there, anyway, because the air pressure tire light came on in my car and I got nervous. So I went straight to the Toyota place, rolled down my window and handed them four hundred dollars. So I wouldn't feel nervous anymore. 

I still need a toothbrush. I go to the downstairs bathroom to look for one and I pause momentarily to enjoy the colorful tile work that I first thought made it look like the bathrooms at Baja Fresh, but now I love it. Which reminds me, I have a coupon for Baja Fresh. Unless I threw it out. Maybe I threw it out. I walk into the den and check out the den trash. It's not there, but the den trash is pretty full of tangerine peels which smell fabu at first but super funky after a few days. I decide to collect the downstairs trash to take out on my way back upstairs. AFter I find a toothbrush. So I can brush my teeth. So I don't have a heart attack. Or start a world war. I'm not sure.  And then, so I can sit down and blog.

In the den, I see Robin's computer is open to Facebook.

And I remember that I probably should send Robin a Facebook friend request. Because I unfriended him during the last fight we had. Which, btw, is just about the greatest thing you can do when your husband pisses you the fuck off. UNFRIEND! Click. I wanted to show him just how pissed off I was. Also, I was worried he would write something unflattering on my wall like, "I can fit my entire body into your underpants. And Phila, too. And also my boat." And he'd post a photo of it or something.

I was so fucking mad at Robin.

Frankly,  I wish there had been an UNMARRY button to click. There's something Zuckerberg didn't think of. Although he's only been married about a year, right? Give him another decade, he'll be staying up nights inventing ways to piss off his spouse.

You know what would be amazing? An UN-BLOW JOB button. Perfect, right? For those times when you regret having given your husband a blow job the night before because this morning he is such an asshole. Hah! I UNblow job you. Click!

My exhilaration at having unfriended Robin was decreased only slightly by the fact that he hasn't even noticed. 

And now the fight is over and we are real life friends again so I should probably take back my unfriending him. Only - and here's the drag - I have to send him a new friend request in order to do so.

Uh-oh. I didn't think about that when I cavalierly knocked him off my wall. I don't want to have to ask him to friend me again. I would lose all my power if I had to do that. And then I wouldn't be the winner. It would be a tie. Damn.

And, what if he rejects my request? Then HE would win. Ack. That won't do.

I sit down on the den couch to consider my options. I fall asleep.

I wake up and say to myself, "I am going to blog today."

But first, I better brush my teeth.

 

 

Comments

[Madgew]

As always funny to the enth degree. I love your ramblings. I hope you have by now found a toothbrush.

[Paul Glickman]

Ann, I clicked the "subscribe" link and the "subscribe to this blog's feed" link, and both times that opened up a page full of computer code. Brrr...scary. --Paul

[Ann Brown]

Hunh.
I will frown at the keyboard and see if that will fix the problem.

[Brody]

Just got a chance to read this. Ann, don't flatter yourself. A Jewish blow job usually isn't the greatest but I hope my wife doesn't read this becase it's all I can get... At least once every year.