Wednesday, February 28, 2007

Full Canvas

Courtesy of Odd Mix:

You can't RUSH a good throw.

WAITing for the verdict.

(Scottish Games)

Is he a Scottish clown?

Bulls eye

Scottish Cattle

Baby Fuzz

(House Remodeling)


New Blue Dining Room

New Blue Kitchen

Working Girl

First Houseguest

Favorite Angle

Check out the old light fixture! It's one of the few still remaining. I guess it was too ugly to steal.


Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Compulsive List Maker

Weekend Recap:
1. They say you're never too young to think about retirement.
2. But is it healthy to think about it EVERY day?
3. When I'm retired there will be no more Mondays. Just Saturday, twice. We'll have Thanksgiving three times a year. Hoop and I will dedicate whole afternoons to cleaning our belly buttons of lint. I'll wear a cape. Why? Because I fucking want to.
4. But most importantly... We'll live in a condo on the beach where everything is maintenanced for us. Ahhhhh. Bask in my dream with me, will you?
5. Saturday morning Hoop and I loaded the car with all the crap we'd accumulated in the last three months. It wasn't until I'd moved all the games and books and trinkets individually that Hoop said:

Hoop: Why didn't we ever put this stuff in a box?
Tink: *Blink* Um...

6. Why didn't we ever put the stuff in a box?! That revelation would have been handy three months ago.
7. After loading the car, we followed the family to the Scottish Highland Games. Because you know, we have SO much free time on our hands. *Eye roll*
8. Like
last year, the boys competed in the ax throwing competition. Only, this year it was run by a different group and the competition was NOT a process of elimination. Your rank was determined by how well you threw two axes. Most of the top placers won by luck and not skill.
9. But it was fun. I got tons of pictures. None of which you'll see today, sadly.
10. Since moving into my parents' house I've had little opportunity to get on the computer. You actually have to announce your intentions days in advance so you can get an appointment. It's like the damn library. But not nearly as quiet.
11. Saturday afternoon Hoop and I rode out to the house for a "private" painting party.
12. "Private" because no one else wanted to come. But that's beside the point.
13. We started at 6pm and didn't finish until 4am. And that was just the kitchen and the dining room!
14. We realized halfway into painting the primer that we'd chosen the most difficult rooms in the house to do first. Does that really surprise you though? When we finished, after numerous melt downs and mishaps, we were really happy with the result.
15. Of course we were under the influence, tired, and sore at the time. But that moment is all that matters, right?
16. The next morning, while scrutinizing the blue phone jack, the half blue light switch, and the speckled blue outlet, I realized... It's not ever going to be "perfect." We're not professionals. And it doesn't really matter.
17. That wisdom derived from the excruciating pain coming from my legs. Apparently, bending at the knees for 10 hours really will save you from arm soreness the next morning!
18. Next project is the baseboards and the living room. YAY!
19. Before heading back to my parents', I decided to brave the filthy bathroom for a shower. Then I realized I'd forgotten to pack towels.

Hoop: Just use paper towels.
Tink: Pfft. Oh-kay.
Hoop: What's wrong with that?
Tink: I don't even know where to start.

20. Hoop and I split ways on Sunday. He went to the hospital to visit AG. I stayed at my parents' for their barn blessing.
21. There were 15 people there in total. Overall, a really amazing event. My Grandfather (a retired minister) did the prayer. Then we all ate and drank wine.
22. Hopefully soon we can have a house blessing too. Our new home is in dire need of some karma cleansing...
23. ...or possibly an exorcism.
24. Last night Hoop and I went to visit AG. Even though I'm not a religious person, there is no disputing the power of good will and prayer. He looked amazing.
25. Well, considering. He's still dying. There's no disputing that. But last night he was the most lucid and cheerful we've seen him in a long time. Thank you all again for thinking of him/us.
26. An unrelated BTW: Have you noticed that my last four post titles have started with "C"? Odd.

Daily Hoop Conversation:
(While painting the dining room)
Hoop: What do you think of this color?
Tink: Well...
Hoop: Oh no. What?
Tink: It doesn't make me particularly hungry.
Hoop: *Puts down brush* Are you kidding me?
Tink: Do you think we could paint it something else?
Hoop: We're almost done!
Tink: Hoop?
Hoop: *Sigh* Yes?
Tink: I'm just kidding.

Pictures tomorrow!

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Monday, February 26, 2007


Not long after my twelfth birthday, I decided to get a perm. I was sure ringlets were the hidden key to popularity. Unfortunately, ringlets were not what I ended up with. What I saw in the mirror when I finished was a frizzy mess with the occasional curl mixed in. "Maybe it hasn't set in yet?" I mumbled from the chair. Mom and I went shopping after the makeover. I walked around all day sniffing the air and wondering what the hell smelled so bad. It smelled like an animal had been electrocuted. And then I realized... I was the cause of the smell. "Will it ever go away?" I hiccuped through my tears. My Mom, ever the patient and empathetic one, replied "I told you you wouldn't like it!"

"What did you do to your hair?" Ryan asked the next day. "It looks like a poodle!" I'd like to say I smiled and replied, "Well good! Because that's what I was going for." But we all know I didn't. I hid in the house for a couple days (it was summer) watching as Ryan and his new girlfriend practiced tennis swings in his front yard. That summer brought many changes. I started wearing a bra. Not because I had boobs or anything, but because some girl down the street said she could see my nipples through my shirt. I started shaving (the same girl had said I resembled a werewolf). The last big change, one that became my signature style through the years, was a slick new bob created by my scissor-wielding Grandma.

Sometime during the next school year, Ryan regained interest in me again. I fantasized about kissing him. In my mind, kissing was something magical. I laugh now. What was I expecting, butterflies and rainbows to sprout out of my ass? The first attempt happened right after I surprised him with a gift. My Mom's friend suggested an engraved keychain. Because nothing says "I like you" like a keychain. I picked out a matching set, a key and heart that fit neatly together. He was surprised alright. So surprised he failed to notice I was leaning in for a kiss. I ended up losing my balance and knocking my chin on his shoulder. Smooth.

About a month later I started "dating" a guy name Mike. I say "dating" because really, how many dates can one go on in seventh grade? The bulk of our relationship was passing notes during English and sitting together at lunch. Until... One night Mom went out and left me in charge of my little brother. The kicker was that she let Mike come over and help. I didn't even really like Mike. He had thick black hair that he kept greased on the sides and spiked in the front. He wore oversized clothes and listened to metal. In short, he was everything a prep like Ryan would hate. After the baby was put down, I led us out to the front stoop and tried to look kissable.

The timing was impeccable. Just as Mike leaned in to kiss me, Ryan walked out of his house. "This is it!" I thought. And then something unexpected happened. Mike licked my face. His tongue was everywhere. Around my mouth. On my chin. Up my nostril. I tried to pull away, but his tongue followed. It looked like a snake trying to strike something. When it was over, I looked up and saw Ryan was laughing. "Want to kiss some more?" Mike asked. "Um. NO. Thank you." I got up and went into the house. "THIS is what I've been waiting for? THIS?! Why do grownups like that?" That kiss alone cured me from being interested in boys for three more years.

Luckily it got better. MUCH better. ;)

1. AG has been readmitted to the hospital. He now has pneumonia in both lungs and they can't get him to eat or drink. They hooked him up to an IV and his lungs started filling with liquid. They say it's only a matter of time. We're going to the hospital tonight to say our good-byes. Keep him in your thoughts.
2. While at work alone today, Hoop was threatened by a customer who had been turned down for a loan last Friday. After tearing through the office the guy yelled, "Who do I have to shoot around here to get money?" Then he walked out to his car. Hoop, unable to lock the door, walked outside to confront the man. He succeeded in calming the guy down enough to get him to leave. But it still makes me nervous. Why are there so many screwed up people in the world?

Weekend Recap and WWC tomorrow.


Friday, February 23, 2007

Cashing In The Memory Bank

(Blog fodder provided by The P.I.T.S. List)

How old were you when you had your first french kiss?

Eleven was a rough year for me. Boys were no longer gross, and had quickly become creatures of mystery. My body was changing in subtle ways. Although I wasn't old enough to have boobs yet, I was still young enough to believe I'd grow "big ones." (I'm still waiting on that.) We had just moved into a new house. The most popular girl in the neighborhood's old house to be exact. I was a target before I'd even enrolled at Warren Elementary. A fact that I unknowingly helped along.

On the first day of school I wore my most "fashionable" vest and turtleneck set. An ensemble that was nothing compared to the stringy blond hair and coke-bottle glasses that accessorized it. "Do you think he's cute?" The MPG (Most Popular Girl) asked while we stood in line for the drinking fountain. I nodded, anxious for her approval. "Well you can't have him. He's mine!" She yelled, yanking on one of the ringlets my Mom had spent hours creating that morning.

From that moment on I was laughed at. It didn't matter that I thought the MPB (Most Popular Boy) rude and stupid. His girlfriend spread the word that I liked him, and that was ammunition enough for the other kids. No other boy dared flirt with me. Girls hesitated to lend me their pens. Even the teacher found their jokes amusing, before she made them stop. It was as if the MPG had stamped a large scarlet "L" on my forehead.

After school I'd watch the kids next door play basketball as I practiced dribbling. I didn't even like basketball. But it was the first thing on my wish list that Christmas. On the other side of my house lived a boy named Ryan. He was a Junior High Schooler. Words best spoken in a hushed or awed tone. "Junior. High. Schooler." I idolized him. He tolerated me. Eventually, whether out of boredom or pity, he even began hanging out with me.

We'd go on hikes through the woods behind my house. He'd pick burrs off my shoes when I started crying (because he'd lied and said they were spider eggs. "They're going to hatch and devour your toes!") He lent me his jacket when it was cold. He told me I was pretty. It didn't matter that he liked to play strange games. Like "Wrestling In The Dark." A game that always left me pinned to the floor and him panting above me.

"How far have you gone?" Ryan asked me one day. "All the way to Ohio," I replied. I remember the look on his face. Vividly. "No stupid. How FAR have you gone?" Then he made a face like he was tongue fighting a vacuum hose. "OH! Um... I've been felt up before." I lied. I had no idea what that even meant. His eyes got wide. "By who?" "This guy I used to date." All of a sudden I was an expert on the matter. Brilliant. "Could I feel you up?" He asked. I was horrified. "NO!" I snapped, turning tail and running home.

He must have been pretty offended. He went to my house the next day and tattled to my Mom. She was outraged. I couldn't leave the house after that without being grilled about where I'd been and what I'd been doing. As if I had any actual friends to be getting in trouble with. As for Ryan? Of course I still hung out with the schmuck. I was eleven, and stupid. But the dynamics of our friendship had changed a bit. We became hell bent on making each other think we weren't interesting in each other.

A ploy which lead me to my first real kiss. A kiss that was NOT given by Ryan, incidently...

More on Monday.

Courtesy of
Odd Mix:

The words for this weekend are...


February Search Terms:
(What people put into search engines that bring them here)
1. Fuck in Egypt Right now I'd settle for anywhere but the floor.
2. "watch my girlfriend" Do what? Tricks?
3. waiting for my period blogs You don't need a support group. You need a pee test.
4. lashes from whip would probably really hurt
5. What does it mean when the cursor arrow is giggling?
You've had too much to drink.
6. answer for car accident-meaning of severed heads Um... They're dead. This isn't rocket surgery.
7. T
The letter of the day. Brought to you by I, N, and K.
8. See my tampon Ewwww, no. I'm sure it's... lovely.

Have a wonderful weekend!

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Thursday, February 22, 2007

Cover Your Virgin Ears II

(The sequel to "Cover Your Virgin Ears I." Consider the title your warning.)

Why are certain words both erotic and insulting, depending on the context they're used in? Like "pussy." Here's a shocker. I have one. I happen to like it. So why is "pussy" also the term for someone who's considered weak? I do my Kegels. I could probably crack a walnut with this bad boy. And "dick"? Unless you're one-eyed or really tall, why is that an insult? The only time I would consider myself looking like an "asshole" is if I ate something really sour. Why is the phrase, "I want to screw/fuck you," offensive once you take out the "I want"? You never hear, "You're such a vagina." Or "Why are you such a penis?" Aren't they the same thing?

People are appalled by these words. They're taboo, only meant to be uttered between the sheets or yelled when angry. Why? Wouldn't it be more effective if you called them something really foul? Pus Pocket. Sewer Breath. Booger Face. Scab. Month Old Yogurt. Razor Burn. Donald Trump's Combover. Can you imagine someone yelling that out their window in rush hour traffic? You'd laugh. You'd think it was juvenile. But if you really stopped to think about it... Wouldn't you rather be a pussy or a dick? At least they have a function. Geesh.

Give Me A Break: I ordered windows a week ago for three that were damaged in our house. The check for them had been cut to me at closing by the title company. What I didn't realize until yesterday, when I went to cash it, was that they'd made it out to the wrong person. They'd made it out to the seller. Niiice. It's just as well. The window company called this morning to inform me my windows had fallen off the back of their truck. "Just mine?" I asked. "Just yours," the guy sighed. "Of course." So it'll be another week or so before they can order more. Anyone want to join me in a drink?

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Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Screw You And Your Igloo

Hoop is a walking database of useless knowledge.

But he never remembers where he heard the information, so people are less inclined to believe him. And by "people" I mean me. I think I have good reasons for being doubtful though.

Hoop: Did you know that Eskimos loan their wives out to house guests?
Tink: For what?
Hoop: What do you think?
Tink: No way.
Hoop: Seriously. It's considered rude for them to decline.
Tink: Like, "Make yourself at home. Have my wife!"
Hoop: Exactly.
Tink: Where did you hear this little tidbit?
Hoop: I don't know.
Tink: Uh huh.

What would a white-bread, financial representative from Florida know about Eskimo customs?
Apparently more than I thought. I'd tell him. But I prefer my pies WITHOUT crow, thankyouverymuch.

Hello Cosmos: Hoop and I have gotten into a routine of meeting at the new house around 6:30 every night. At first I was overwhelmed by the amount of prep work involved in preparing our house for paint. But I've gotten used to the methodic rhythm of spackling and sanding. It's almost comforting now. The soreness in my arms has ebbed into more of a pleasant ache. But it wasn't until Monday night that I fully started to appreciate having a home. It happened after dinner. We were eating Chinese at a local dive and plotting our next move. I broke open the fortune cookie expecting to see some lame quote. "What's it say?" Hoop asked. I was quiet for a minute before bursting into laughter. I'm sure he thought I was nuts.

"Be satisfied with what you already own."

Alright Cosmos. I hear you.

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Tuesday, February 20, 2007


(Caution: Not a happy tale)

"People don't go into nursing homes to get better," I thought as Hoop and I walked the corridor to AG's room. Hoop's Grandfather, AG (Alzheimer Grandpa), was struck down with Pneumonia a month ago. The hospital transferred him to a nursing home barely two weeks later with promises that they'd release him once he was better. I don't know what I'd expected. But whatever it had been, it wasn't the dank and dreary building we were passing through. There were people in the halls, wheelchair bound and moaning for help. The nurses gossiped nearby with one another, unaffected by their cries. There was dirt in the corners and a stench so foul I gagged just to breathe.

Hoop counted the rooms as we walked. I counted footsteps. One, two, three- a gentleman dragging a colonoscopy bag behind him. Eight, nine, ten- someone screaming like they'd just been burned. I was terrified. But not of them. I'd always imagined the end of life's road being more... dignified. There was no dignity in this. The staff was practically digging the graves beneath the beds. As we came around the corner to AG's room, I clutched at Hoop's arm. I expected the worst. What we found instead was AG, grumbling that he wanted to go home, and George. "Hi!" AG's roommate called out cheerfully as we entered the room. "My name is George. I've been looking after your Grandfather."

Unlike most of the patients, George is mobile and relatively fit. He talks a lot and seems to have no problems following conversations. I've been told since meeting him that he has Alzheimers too. But at the time I couldn't help but wonder why he was there. "I used to be a soccer player." He said, flashing us his smile and his class ring. "My sons came by to see me today. They say my wife is in the hospital." The next time we came to visit there were signs leading us down the hall that said, "George's Room." We found both he and AG fast asleep. I wandered around the room admiring George's pictures and a glittery paper crown on top of the TV. "Is it your birthday?" I asked George, once he'd woken from his nap. "I don't know," he mumbled. "What day is it?"

I laughed and pointed at the crown. "There were signs all over the building leading us to your room." His eyes lit up. "Oh, THAT! We had a party the other day and I was nominated King. A lady down the hall was named Queen and they made us dance. I told her my wife would be angry if she found out." Twenty minutes later George asked, "Did I tell you about the dance?" I nodded, feeling the frown creep into my eyebrows. "I was nominated King and my wife was here. She was the Queen. I wish I knew what was wrong with her. My boys came to visit today. They said she's in the hospital. But they won't tell me why." I stared at him for a moment as he looked into his lap. His hands folded and unfolded.

I remember choking back a sob, some raw bit of emotion that had jiggled loose. It startled me. I looked up at Hoop, who promptly got up from his chair to say good-bye. "We'll be back soon AG!" He called hurriedly from the door. I looked at my feet as we walked out and then sadly leaned my head against Hoop's shoulder. Neither of us spoke for awhile. In the stillness of my own thoughts, pieces of the puzzle were snapping together. Why was he there? Why was he in that room, on that hall? "She's dead, isn't she?" I whispered. Hoop nodded slowly. "She's dead and he doesn't even remember it."


Monday, February 19, 2007

Save Our Souls

Weekend Recap:
1. I came to the conclusion this weekend that Hoop and I have NO IDEA what we're doing.
2. Saturday morning we drove to our house to assess the situation.
3. In which we decided...
4. ...we needed beer. Lots and lots of beer.
5. After that was taken care of, along with toilet paper, cleaning supplies, and air fresheners, (What can I say? The house stunk.) we formulated a plan on what to do next.
6. The problem was, we each had a separate plan.
7. Hoop's plan was to scrape off the existing paint.
8. Mine was to start taping off the rooms.
9. Neither panned out quite as expected.
10. It took me 45 minutes to realize the tape I was using wasn't faulty, the baseboards were dusty.
11. Hoop continued to peel the high-gloss-industrial-plastic-textured paint off until he hit the drywall.
12. I was good. I held my tongue. But for the record? I TOLD HIM SO.
13. Who the hell paints their house with this stuff anyway? It looks like the paint they use on hospitals, auto shops, and the banisters of Disney World to cover up dirt.
14. Although it DID come in handy when we found a snot spot on the wall where the ceiling guy had sneezed. It wiped right off!
15. The difference between Hoop and I can be summed up in what happened next.
16. We needed advice on paint:
17. I wanted to ask someone at Home Depot.
18. Hoop settled for the opinion of an elderly gentleman at Walmart who barely spoke English.
19. We weighed the idea of hiring a professional painter:
20. I pulled out the phone book.
21. Hoop pulled into a new construction neighborhood and asked a group of Mexicans if they wanted to earn a little extra cash.
22. In the end we declared, "To hell with it! We'll do this ourselves and see how it turns out."
23. And then nothing happened. We'd wasted so much time arguing, taping, spackling, and cleaning, we didn't have enough time to PAINT.
24. On top of that, neither Walmart nor Target carry fans right now because they're a "seasonal item." So we're either going to live in a bat cave for two more months or bite the bullet and pay Home Depot's high prices.
25. At least we have our paint colors picked out:
Tink: What color should we paint our bedroom?
Hoop: Red with yellow flames!

Courtesy of
Odd Mix

View (From Our Backyard)


...this large gaping hole where paint should be.

(Some Random Weekend Pictures)

Something Old

I wonder how old the baby is now?

Something Blue

And white, gray, brown, and black. Oy. Pick a color scheme!

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Friday, February 16, 2007

Dangerously Safe

I woke up this morning upside down.

Apparently, I'd been reaching for the alarm in my sleep and forgot that we were sleeping in a different room for the night. Since moving into my parents' house, Hoop and I have had to vacate our room five times. The room we're staying in, Big Bit's, also subs as the guest room. My parents entertain a lot of overnight guests/family. So about twice a month we're kicked out and moved into my other brother's room. With us goes all the gifts we received for Christmas, our clothes, our dogs, and whatever miscellaneous crap the dresser has procured over time.

I feel like the Junk Lady in
Labyrinth, dragging my personal belongings with me wherever I go.

Back to this morning... I woke up as my hands and head hit the floor. The rest of me was still on the bed. Including my knees, which were squishing the dog they had landed on. "Heeeeelp!" I yelled. Or maybe it was, "Oh shit!" I can't remember. Next thing I knew, Hoop was pulling me up by my waist and dragging me back toward the pillows. "Thank you for rescuing me," I whispered, waiting for the inevitable questions about what the hell I'd been doing. "Mmm Hmm," Hoop mumbled instead. As if this sort of thing happens all the time.

Root Of All Evil: Whoever said it was "money," didn't get specific enough. "Banks" would have been more appropriate. I went to my mortgage company at lunch to set up direct payments from my savings account:

Teller: Hmmm. I'm sorry. It appears your loan has been sold.
Tink: SOLD? To who?
Teller: Blah-blah Bank.
Tink: But... Why? I haven't even made a payment yet!
Teller: I assure you, these things happen all the time.
Tink: But how can I be delinquent if I haven't had to make a payment yet?
Teller: *Bursts out laughing*
Tink: Oh please, laugh, because that makes me feel SO much better!

Go on, shake your head at me. How was I supposed to know this was a typical thing for banks to do? (Aside from the fact that I signed paperwork stating I understood the possibility of that happening) How am I supposed to retain all this information?

Daily Hoop Conversation:
Hoop: I'm sorry your day is so stressful.
Tink: I'm just sick of all these stupid chinks in the plan!
Hoop: ...
Tink: Hoop?
Hoop: *Starts laughing* Kinks.
Tink: What?
Hoop: *Laughs harder* I think you meant KINKS in the plan.

Daily Hoop Conversation 2:
Tink: Put on your seatbelt.
Hoop: It IS on.
Tink: I don't see it.
Hoop: It's invisible.
Tink: Please put on your seatbelt?
Hoop: It's broken.
Tink: I thought it was invisible.
Hoop: It's both.
Tink: Put on your damn seatbelt!
Hoop: My arms don't work.
Tink: Now your arms are broken?
Hoop: Yup.
Tink: How are you driving?
Hoop: Magic.

Courtesy of
Odd Mix:

The words for this weekend are...


Have a great weekend!

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Wednesday, February 14, 2007

An Anti-Valentine

Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
I hate you Blogger.
I really do.

As I logged onto Blogger this afternoon I was greeted with the announcement, "Your new account is ready!" So of course, since I'm boycotting Blogger Beta for reasons I can't remember, I went to click on my existing account instead. Only, it wasn't there this time. They were FORCING me to move.

It took me four hours to realize I wasn't going to get around this. No matter how many times I reloaded the page. Yes, I'm really that stubborn. So here I am, new and improved against my will. I figured everything would be shinier on this side. Where's the welcome basket? Where's the "V.I.P. Only" party? Wait a second...

This looks just like the OLD Blogger.
It is just like the Old Blogger!

Son of a bitch.

Around The Water Cooler:
Tink: You know the Virgin Mary?
Coworker: *Blink* Yeah.
Tink: I've been thinking... Maybe she wasn't really a virgin.
Coworker: Why are you thinking about this? It's Valentines Day!
Tink: Maybe when they were passing the word along someone misheard "vaginal birth" as "virginal."
Coworker: *Stares open mouthed*
Tink: *Waits for reply*
Coworker: *Continues to stare*
Tink: Didn't you ever play Telephone as a kid?!

DOT: Twisted Tink has been updated with a new chapter,
"The Other Side." See what Tink finds through the mirror. Comments, suggestions, and critiques are always appreciated. Rotten tomatoes are not.

PB will be closed tomorrow as I am going into the Witness Protection Program to our other office for training. I'll see you on Friday!

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Tuesday, February 13, 2007

I Need...

...a net for all these thoughts fluttering around in my head.
...a Scooby Snack for motivation.
...a clone (or twelve) to do my job effectively.
...a tampon shaped pocket in my pants.
...a dozen light and fan fixtures to replace the ones that ran away.

On the way home from work last night I stopped at our new house to check on the finished ceiling. Only, when I went to turn on the lights inside, there were none to be turned on. The ceiling workers had mentioned that the fixtures might get damaged. What they had failed to say was that they might go MISSING.

Saturday afternoon we got a call from the ceiling guy's kid, a twenty-something year old with two toned hair and "high eyes." His Dad had sent him over to prep the house for Sunday.

High Eyes Guy: What are your plans for the fans?
Hoop: Excuse me?
High Eyes Guy: Are you going to be keeping them?
Hoop: We planned on replacing them eventually. Why?
High Eyes Guy: I just wanted to let you know they might get a little banged up in the process of us scraping the ceiling.
Hoop: Oh. Ok.
High Eyes Guy: And I was wondering if I could keep the one that was in the nursery?
Hoop: Um...
High Eyes Guy: I have a little girl that really needs a fan for her room.
Hoop: Yeah, I guess that would be OK.

Apparently the other fans missed the one fan and decided to set out and look for it. At least the ceiling looks good... from what I could see of it.

Tampon Pocket: Most of my dress pants don't have pockets. Which really isn't a problem until I have to carry certain items (tampons) discreetly from my office to the bathroom. I work with mostly guys. The last time I decided to carry a tampon in my hand, I was stopped for a conversation and ended up waving it around like a wand to elaborate some point.

So now I just tuck them into the waistband of my pants.

As I was making a beeline for the bathroom this morning, tampon in pants, I was stopped by a warehouse worker with a question. His question turned into a discussion and I found myself being led in the opposite direction of the toilet. With all that moving and shifting around, I knew the tampon was starting to wiggle loose. My only hope was that it wouldn't slide down my leg and land on the floor.

I know now, that would have been the better alternative.

As I was walking back towards the restroom I noticed several sales guys stopping to stare at my crotch. Most of them tried to do it discreetly. Others just stared in bold fascination. "How dare they!" I thought. I was still fuming when I walked into the ladies' stall and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The tampon hadn't just wiggled loose... It had positioned itself to look like a penis. Straight, but carried to the left.


I can hear the conversations around the water cooler now.

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Monday, February 12, 2007


Check out my new fairy shirt by Sunshine at Sunshine's Designs!

Don't stare too hard. You might blind yourself with my bling.

Big Bit, On The Fence

Tulip With Teeth

Open Wide!

Courtesy of
Odd Mix:

Hoop and I visited our new house this weekend... watch the popcorn ceilings come TUMBLING down.

Everything was covered in plastic, so picture taking was limited. What few shots I got came out grainy because of the low light, or blurry due to the glare off the plastic sheets. But you can still see what we're dealing with. The cabinets are next to go!

Daily Hoop Conversation:
Hoop: Do you know why Bush is pro-life?
Tink: Why?
Hoop: Because he's going to need a bigger army.

Daily Hoop Conversation 2:
Hoop: There's only one good thing about death.
Tink: What's that?
Hoop: You only have to go through it once with each person.

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Friday, February 09, 2007

Shallow Musings Of A Wannabe Armpit-Sniffer

(Creative post title brought to you by the "Blog Title Generator" at

InADvisable: Thank you
Folioweekly for providing the blog fodder.

Women Seeking Men:

I'M NOT YOUR WIFE! Or your Mother or the other woman you think you own! The term is friends with benefits! White female, 52, 5'5", 180, seeking open-minded, available, white male, non-smoker. No alcoholics or Viagra jockeys! I'm getting bored, guys! I have no idea why you're still single. *Backs away slowly*

I Saw You:

SHIVER ME TIMBERS. You: Sexy drunk pirate at Target. Me: Confused. Thought maybe I hit your boat in the parking lot. Would like to check you for scurvy. Send me a message by parrot.

THE PEARL. Thank you for watching over me as I vomited in the street and my friend looked for my ride home. I would like to thank you in person. Because nothing says "True Love" like puke.

HOT GUY AT PUB. You: Sexy, bald, dancing manager at Fionn MacCool's on Thursday. Me: thick Latina lover who wants to get inside your khakis. Maybe we could share a Guinness and I could see your sausage rolls? If he has more than one roll, you need to head for the hills.

Men Seeking Women:

I'M NOT HUGH HEFNER! You're no Playboy bunny sweetheart! I use dumbells, you take Paxil! I collect movies, you're a shoe junkie! We're both somebody's ex! White male, 50, 6', 200, seeks lovable single female.

ONE KIND OF GUY. I am shrewd, analytical and practical; I possess all the necessary qualities to become the right man for anyone's dream man. 50, 5'8", 150lbs, black hair, brown eyes, very confident with positive outlook on life. Shrewd. Analytical. Practical. Wow... You sound like a TON of fun. Maybe we can meet at the Laundromat on Friday and fold socks together.

TARZAN LOOK FOR JANE. Tarzan white, 46 seasons, 5'10", solid 180, seek Jane. Good if Jane like water, jungle animals, and high places. Ok if Jane have kids. Jane no take Tarzan to mall. Tarzan nice.

Daily Hoop Conversation:
Tink: I had a dream last night that I died.
Hoop: That you died?
Tink: Yeah. But then I came back as a ghost and gave you cupcakes.
Hoop: Cupcakes.
Tink: Uh huh. To console you.
Hoop: Well that was nice.
Tink: Of course! I was a friendly ghost.

Daily Hoop Conversation 2:
Hoop: Shoes last me forever.
Tink: Me too. Do you know when I got these boots?
Hoop: Seventh grade.
Tink: *Blink* That's right!
Tink: Did I ever tell you about the time-
Hoop: -your friend took date rape drugs on purpose?
Tink: Uh, yeah.
Tink: You wouldn't happen to know when my period is going to start, would you?
Hoop: In about two to three days.
Tink: Damn... You're good.

Courtesy of
Odd Mix:

The words for this weekend are...


Have a fantastic weekend!

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Thursday, February 08, 2007

Updates (Finally)

I feel like I've been having an out of body experience for the last four days.

The closing on Monday night went much smoother than expected. Which doesn't explain why I haven't posted updates until today. The truth is, I didn't want to think about it anymore. So I stuck it on a shelf and pretended it wasn't there. Some people call that "denial." I call it "fucking brilliant."

I'm thinking about doing it with other uncomfortable memories too. That peeing
incident from fourth grade? Stashed. Next is my collection of horrible hair-dos and family gatherings. Oh, and let's not forget the time Grandpa pulled out his dentures and convinced me I could do the same with my teeth too.

Monday Night: When I walked into the title company I was greeted by four smiling people.

  • The seller, who was smiling out of confusion as if to say, "Who is this little girl and where are her cookies?"
  • The seller's Realtor, who was smiling like a shark that was ready for dinner.
  • The title representative, who was smiling and sweating as he stared down a plate of pastries.
  • My Realtor, who was grinning nervously and making too-polite conversation with the enemy other party.

    I told them as I sat down that I was waiting for my Mom to arrive. I had decided last minute to pull Hoop out of the closing. Something I would later be made to pay for. Despite my persistence to wait, they kept shoving paperwork at me to sign. "I'm sure it's all in order," my Realtor said, smiling sweetly at the seller. "I think my client has gone well beyond the call of duty," the other Realtor chimed.

    They impatiently stared at me as we waiting. I know what they were thinking. "She needs someone to hold her hand." But I didn't. I could see that the paperwork was in order. I could have signed. I was waiting for my moral support to arrive. I knew the moment Mom walked through that door that someone was on my side. Even if I didn't really need it.

    So the house is officially ours! I signed over my soul and traded the money for a set of keys. Hoop and I had a long talk last night about support, insecurities, and the walls we've built up between each other in the last two weeks. I've come to realize I'm excellent at masonry ;). As with the new house, we plan on working on it. We love each other too much to simply throw "us" away.

    The hardest part is over. Soon enough it'll be time for the fun to begin.

    February Search Terms:
    (What people put into search engines that bring them here)
    1. scrotum cream Try the blog down the street.
    2. what guys think about while having sex According to Hoop, it's
    3. scary hairy dude Whatever you do, DONT Google that term... You're going to aren't you? Don't say I didn't warn you.
    4. totally useless information An octopus' testicles are located in its head.
    5. hoop up anal You can try... But he's a pretty big guy.
    6. pickled penis dahmer We all have nicknames we're not proud of.
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    Wednesday, February 07, 2007


    If my brain were put on auction right now... would sell for little more than a tub of Jello.

    Despite my sporadic commenting, my lack of pictures and decent posts, you all have continued to stick by me. I can't begin to express how grateful I am. I promise when this is all over, I'll post a keg party. No RSV required, and togas optional.

    Rantings Of A Mad Woman: When I was younger I couldn't wait to be an adult. I thought it would be so easy! You get a car. You get a great paying job. You meet the person of your dreams, have some kids, move into a nice house, and as long as nothing horrible happens to you (like a natural disaster or a stock market crash) you'll end up retiring in a mansion somewhere with tons of money to spend.

    And then there's reality...

    Do you know who I blame?

    Milton Bradley.

    Unlike the game of
    LIFE, there aren't magic dice to roll every time you have to make a decision. You don't move forward on some clear and defined path that places you neatly at "Retirement" when you're done. You can't land on a designated spot, pick up a peg, and have an instant family. In the real world pink and blue pegs don't always pick opposite colored pegs. Sometimes they pick pegs of the same color, or no pegs at all. And sometimes (in Utah) a blue peg will marry TWO pink pegs at the same time and have lots of little peg babies.

    But that's besides the point.

    Life, the real one, is not user friendly. It may say that it's "meant for all ages," but IT decides what age you stop playing at. There's no manual or shortcuts. There's no way of cheating the odds. The banks in real life aren't guarded by your little brother. Your punishment won't be getting tackled or tickled if you get caught robbing it. We don't all start off with cars and we don't all end up in the same place. I'm not saying the game should be entirely realistic. There's no need to add ghettos or penalty cards saying, "Get a divorce. Lose half your bank roll."

    What I suggest is a name change. Maybe to "Fantasy" or "Bullshit." Or better yet...

    "Life: or something NOT like it."

    That way on days like this one I wouldn't ask:
    Tink: "Can't we do this another day?"
    Coworker: Do what another day?
    Tink: Life.
    Coworker: I wish it were that easy.
    Tink: It used to be.

    Tomorrow: Updates, if my brain has finally demushified.


    Tuesday, February 06, 2007

    One Word

    Details will have to wait until my brain demushifies. I'm off to catch up on emails, blogs, and work. All I can say is, "YAY for no longer being homeless!"

    P.S. Anyone interested in a large cardboard box? It's cheap and hardly lived in. :)


    Monday, February 05, 2007

    Stormy Weather

    Literally. Metaphorically. Metaphysically. Un-fucking-believably.

    Weekend Update:
    1. Friday morning I lay in bed, trying to forget the purpose of my day off.
    2. "Today I'm going shopping," I lied.
    3. Then Hoop called to say, "I love you baby! Everything is going to be OK. Do you want me to bring you home some soup? Are you scared?"
    4. To which I replied: (Pick the appropriate answer)
    5. "Scared? Pfft. This shit is better than going to Disney World!"
    6. "I wasn't until you made me think about it. Thanks babe."
    7. Fortunately, the extraction went very smooth. The dentist was in and out of my mouth in less than five minutes. The only mishap was when one of the teeth landed on my tongue and he had to chase it around my mouth for a minute before catching it.
    8. "Don't swallow!" He yelled. Which, oddly, I've never heard a guy say before.
    9. That night, as I removed the last of the gauze and put away my bag of frozen peas, I beamed at how little pain and swelling I had. My mood quickly darkened though when I saw what Papa Bear was making for dinner...
    10. ...steak.
    12. So I filled a bowl with as much ice cream as I could fit, and ate it right in front of him.
    13. Did I mention? He's diabetic.
    14. Saturday morning we all awoke to the news that Central Florida had been devastated by tornadoes.
    15. Luckily, we had not been in the line of fire. The areas hit were about 70 miles below us.
    16. Thank you to everyone who emailed, commented, or called out of concern. We're OK. My thoughts and wishes go out to the families effected.
    17. That said... Hoop would now like to be referred to as "Tornadic Thunda." Strong emphasis on the last "a".
    Hoop: That or "Hoop Daddy."
    Tink: I don't think so.
    18. Sunday morning our Realtor called with news on the house and Monday's closing.
    19. She'd gone over to the property for a look-see and noticed that almost none of the repairs from the inspection had been done. When she called the other Realtor he responded...
    20. "The seller believes most of the repairs are unnecessary."
    21. And then... "We figured she could finish those after the closing."
    22. I'm beginning to suspect I have a "Come Screw Me" sign hovering above my head.
    23. He also told her, "All that really matters is that WE get paid, right? Are you worried you won't get your money?"
    24. The decision to push the closing back to Thursday (the original closing date) was not a difficult one. Or so I thought.

    (Caution: Un-funny Rant Starting)

    25. This morning everything blew up in my face. By 12 o'clock I was crying in my coffee and frantically dialing the bank, the title company, my home insurance office, my Mom, Hoop, and my Realtor.
    26. In better order than what I received it in, here are the facts as of now:
    27. If I reschedule the closing I'm going to be fined by both the mortgage company and the title company. The seller is now claiming to have finished all repairs this morning, save for some faulty windows. She wants to cut me a check at closing to pay the contractors who will be working on those Thursday. I still haven't received the confirmation paperwork for the other repairs. My Realtor assures me I will have it before closing, which is rescheduled for tonight at 5:30.
    28. At 8 o'clock this morning I told my boss, the home insurance office, the title company, and my bank that closing was moved back to Thursday. A few hours later I had to call and retract that statement. I still haven't gone to the bank to get the cashier's check. Hoop is going to do the final walk-through without me. When I called the title company they went off on my Realtor, claiming she "dropped the ball" and is now trying to "save her own ass."
    29. I suddenly feel very alone and vulnerable.
    30. My partner, completely naive in all these matters, keeps giving horrible advice. Fed up with the current living situation, he's more concerned with having a home (any home) than having this be a sound and secure deal. His answers of "but at least we'll have a house" are no comfort when some of the issues risk our safety as well as my life savings.
    31. Ironically, the worst part of this whole house fiasco has nothing to do with the house and everything to do with Hoop and my relationship. Is love, without support, enough?
    (End Rant)

    32. On a lighter note... Last night Mom and I snuck off to her bedroom to get away from the boys/men who were screaming and throwing things at the TV.
    33. We ate soup and watched "The Devil wears Prada" from her laptop.
    Tink: *Juggles bowl of soup* I'm afraid I'm going to get something on your bed.
    Mom: You found something on my bed?
    Tink: No, I said-
    Mom: Phew. I was going to ask which side you found it on.
    Tink: What did you think I found?

    Mom: *Sheepish look*
    Tink: Ewww!

    How did your weekend go?

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    Thursday, February 01, 2007

    A Pudding Diet...

    ...always sounded fun.

    Until I realized that was all I'd be eating after Friday.

    I'm having my wisdom teeth extracted tomorrow. So I won't be blogging. Hopefully I'll be back by Monday. I never thought I'd see the day where I'd RATHER be working. I'm looking forward to this about as much as a hole in the head... Or two if you want to get technical. Wish me luck! I'll miss you guys.

    January Hit Statistics:
    1. The primary day for hits was Wednesday.
    2. The most popular hour being 4pm.
    3. The top referrers were Jay and Sunshine.
    4. The most used search term was, "joystick joyride."
    5. My favorite search term was, "The older I get, the more I realize love sucks."
    6. The highest hit post (220) was on January 17th, the day I posted about my ring dream.

    31 Quirks for 31 Days:
    1. I remember a lot of things I shouldn't.
    2. Like the 1988 presidential campaign. I was five.
    3. I remember arguing with a little boy from my KinderCare about who was going to win. We'd been pretty sweet on each other until I realized his Dad was a Republican. My Mom was a Democrat.
    4. Neither of us knew what those words meant. But we knew it made us different. "Bush is gonna beat Doo-doo-cock-see's butt!" He yelled.
    5. I remember yelling back "Nu uh!" before I bonked him in the face with my fist.
    6. The fight was short lived though.
    7. One, because there were teachers everywhere.
    8. Two, because my eyepatch made it hard for me to see what I was hitting.
    9. I don't like Tootsie Rolls.
    10. Then again, I'm not really sure what they are.
    11. I used to pretend they were Pound Puppy turds.
    12. The expression, "My life flashed before my eyes" always confused me.
    13. That close to death, wouldn't you be thinking of the life you hadn't lived yet?
    14. My car hasn't been cleaned in over eight months.
    15. I'm starting to think the dirt is what's holding it together.
    16. Whenever Hoop pisses me off in the morning I think of ways to get back at him.
    17. Like, "Maybe I'll just quit shaving."
    18. I always imagined speed dating would be a great way to practice pick-up lines.
    19. Although I'll admit, I've never heard of one that worked.
    20. A guy slid up to me one night at a bar and said, "You're almost as beautiful as my car."
    21. I was too scared to ask. Especially since the nicest car in the lot was a Honda.
    22. I think I'd make a good relationship consultant. Like a professional wingman! My motto could be, "I'll rate it before you date it!"
    23. I hate being rushed...
    24. ...unless I'm the one that's rushing.
    25. If you say "rushing" enough, it stops making sense.
    26. I hate people who repeat words. "Yup yup." "Right right" "No, no."
    27. As if saying it more than once will make it mean more.
    28. I admire the "Emo" crowd.
    29. Unlike most people, they wear their emotions on the outside.
    30. I'm allergic to a lot of make-ups. So I've thought about carrying around a sign that says what kind of mood I'm in instead...
    31. ...but I don't think many people would care.
    32. I secretly love chick flicks.
    33. I fantasize about writing one of every kind of book one day.
    34. Because I've never heard of anyone doing it.
    35. I'm a sucker for challenges.

    Beneath The Willow


    Stuck In Traffic (Moo)

    Cattail Pond

    ...And Eat It Too.

    Ugh. I look demonic. Like I'm sacrificing the cake.

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