...for a different kind of girl

silent surburban girl releasing her voice, not yet knowing what all she wants to say about her life and the things that make it spin. do you have to be 18 to be here? you'll know when i know.

Friday, September 04, 2009

i give you the greatest post about nothing ever!

So I planned to come home yesterday and write an inspiring, uplifting, highly quotable post for the ages, but by the time I returned from work and prepared to nestle safely back into the loving arms of my children, who immediately trumpeted my arrival with rapid-fire skedaddlin' out the door to play with their neighborhood friends (oh, and to tell me my Tool Man HAD been home, but had left because he apparently had, and I quote, things to do), my left foot was afflicted with a kind of pain that caused me to moan and thrash and weep mascara destroying pools of salt down my face, and apparently, though I've not yet figured out how, the pain in my foot makes it utterly impossible for me to also use my hands for such things as cleaning and typing, which is going to seem really odd in a few hours if you see me splattered all over Twitter or attempt to engage me in a jovial chat session where we spend enlightening moments LOLing each other's greatness.

So, long story short, my mysterious foot pain has rendered me incapable of writing my inspiring, uplifting, highly quotable post for the ages. The human body is a miraculous and incredibly mysterious thing! As a result, you get this.

LOL!

When my Tool Man did return to the fold, he finally sighed and declared "Enough!" (although silently, for sometimes, and isn't that cute, I think he fears me), went out to the garage (aka - hell) and came back inside with the mangiest looking, science experiment containing plastic bucket and what appeared to be a dried up container of milk. I deduced it looked to be a dried up container of milk because he was shaking it and I could hear (over the gnashing of my teeth and crocodile tears)(seriously, when people say you forget the pain of childbirth, clearly that is the case for me, because I gave birth to two big babies without the benefit of modern pain temping medicine, but this foot, this demon appendage, is killing me. Were I to actually call a doctor - oh, what a novel idea! - and describe it to them, I would say, between the tears, remember, that it felt as though my heel had been secretly removed and replaced with a butcher knife. A BUTCHER KNIFE OF DOOM!) the maraca-like sounds of what could only be dried milk being forced to party. Or Epsom salt. It was totally Epsom salt (question - why do we have Epsom salt, dried out or otherwise, in our garage, aka hell?).

A few seconds later, Tool Man was plunging my demon paw into a vat of scalding hot, milky water, and when I was shocked out of the daze of my pain, I looked down to see he'd placed my foot in that nasty bucket he'd brought in from the garage (aka - hell). AND HE HADN'T REALLY CLEANED IT!! The the pain! The PAIN made it impossible for me to tell him that I now suspected I'd die of some parasite that would worm it's way in through the impenetrable fortress of my dried foot skin and wow, for that I hope you're happy, Tool Man! No. No, I didn't do that. Instead, I sat with my foot in that mysterious sludge factory for over an hour, and while my foot still does not feel the least bit better, something good did come of it. Want to know what?

Tool Man made supper last night! Hooray! Fireworks! No sex, though, because OMG, my foot!! She burns!

Also because he didn't do the dishes (and this surprises me why based on the bucket he had me put my foot in?), which was a little thing I discovered around 11:30 p.m., last night when I crawled my way up to the kitchen from the living room and sought refuge and inspiration for the arduous task of crawling up stairs to bed that lay before me. Living in a tri-split level house is not exactly The Tits when your toes (and your butcher knife heel) mocks you, my friends. So I busted out a flamingo move - balanced on one leg, don'tcha know - and did up those dishes because if there's one thing I can't stand, it's waking up to last night's dishes all over the kitchen.

Oh, and I also can't stand my unbearable, makes it difficult to stand, foot pain, too.

And world suffering.

And that show Eureka that Tool Man has to watch every Friday night.

Speaking of watching things, Tool Man and I are just now watching last season's Grey's Anatomy in an attempt to unclog our DVR and prepare for the hunting and gathering required of the new fall television season, and while we're watching Izzy go through her cancer issues (surely this is no longer a spoiler to anyone, right? I mean, it wasn't even a spoiler to me because hi, Grey's Anatomy has been off since early last May and even I wasn't able to avoid finding out how the season ended, but please, don't tell Tool Man because he doesn't know and, friends, in the past, Tool Man has totally wept a little bit at Grey's Anatomy and I find that adorable)(he doesn't find it adorable when I weep at Eureka, though, because he says I'm lying and my tears are to tears of heartfelt emotion but more of annoyance tinged with exhaustion) and as I was sitting there with my butcher knife stabby, potentially parasitic foot, I realized I was really starting to work on a headache and then after that, my left breast got incredibly itchy and while I thought that was odd, I also thought, "You know, that itchy sensation isn't exactly something new," and then I started to get hellishly paranoid that I have what Izzy has and I started to get emotional about not being there for my kids and OMG, Tool Man can't even wash dishes after making supper so how is he ever going to live without me?!

And then I thought hey, if I get a Dead Denny and his perpetually erect nipples out of the chance, then what's a few baked on messes?

I know. Seriously, I am not that insensitive, nor do I use as many curse words that screamed through my vortex last night. Stabby foot pain can and will make you think and do a lot of crazy things. I am not, however, sure what a routinely itchy left breast will make you do, though. Except scratch a lot, and I hear you're not supposed to do that.

And so today, instead of an inspiring, uplifting, highly quotable post for the ages, you get this. You're welcome.

You'd also be welcome to come do my bidding today because, seriously, I'm going to be kicking it (note - not ACTUALLY kicking)(because of the sickly foot, remember?) like Jabba The Hutt, unmoving and talking gibberish, on my couch. While it's not necessary, we can discuss whether or not there's any chain yanking or dancing that will take place while you're in that Princess Leia slave girl get-up. You're welcome, indeed!

Labels:

35 Comments:

Blogger Desmond Jones said...

You had me at the itchy left breast. . .

Friday, September 04, 2009 10:18:00 AM  
Blogger Always Home and Uncool said...

Your nothings are always something. But the question is: just what you Epsom salts do because acts a skin seasoning?

Friday, September 04, 2009 10:19:00 AM  
Blogger That girl from Shallotte said...

Help me, Diff Girl, you're my only hope sometimes lately when I'm unemployed, bored and needing the entertainment of my favorite blogger ever! Reading or hearing the word "itch" always makes me itch, so I'm off to scratch like a monkey with nits. Great job as always!

Friday, September 04, 2009 10:39:00 AM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

GAH! Are you suggesting that perhaps Tool Man intends to go full-on Donner Party on me now that I am something of a lame duck around here?! Dear God...I married a cannibal!! Was that the "something he had to do" that compelled him to leave the house yesterday before I got home!??!

Never before have I been so scared by my inability to move rapidly than I am today...

Oh! Nice! My word verification?

HERRIB

Her rib! HER RIB!!!

It was nice knowing all of you...

Friday, September 04, 2009 10:41:00 AM  
Blogger FTN said...

I'm always LOLing at your greatness. Sometimes I LOL at my own greatness.

I hate to sound as easily distracted as Desmond up there, but I'm looking at your post and all that sticks out is "erect nipples" and "itchy left breast."

Didn't you say something about your foot hurting?

Friday, September 04, 2009 11:29:00 AM  
Blogger Swirl Girl said...

So I am trying to leave a pithy comment, but am fixated on the fact the Dead Denny has erect nipples. Now I am torn with coming up with a pithy comment and googling "rigormortis nipples".

thanks for that.

Friday, September 04, 2009 11:38:00 AM  
Blogger Pat said...

OMG - I am speechless. Yes. Laughing. But speechless. Thanks for that. Sorry about your foot.

Dead Denny. Erect Nipples. (His or yours? LOL!)

Friday, September 04, 2009 11:47:00 AM  
Blogger Aunt Becky said...

Want to make out? You got a purdy mouth.

Friday, September 04, 2009 12:04:00 PM  
Blogger Sailor said...

All I can say, is: LOL.

Well, LOL and you got me at the itchy left breast too.

LOL

Friday, September 04, 2009 12:22:00 PM  
Blogger Legallyblondemel said...

Between the itchy boob & the Princess Leia shout-out, you've done your male readers a solid today.

Speaking of males, my own personal husband would definitely do something like the (ew!) dirty bucket incident while trying to be helpful - the dirty dishes go without saying. My sympathies.

Hope the foot feels better!

Friday, September 04, 2009 12:52:00 PM  
Blogger Aunt Juicebox said...

Oh you poor girl! Foot pain has to be the worst, because everything else can be muscled through as long as I can still walk and drive. But that heel pain can be monstrous. I have plantar fasciitis in both feet, and if it flairs up, sometimes it's months before I can walk without excrutiating pain. I know what the little mermaid must have felt like.

Friday, September 04, 2009 1:11:00 PM  
Anonymous TwoBusy said...

The good news is that with other foot parts and lots of toes still available, there's still a very real opportunity for The Butcher Knife of Doom! to metamorphoze into The Complete Knife Set of Doom! Including Scissors and Sharpener!

(keeping in mind, of course, that good news is a subjective thing)

Friday, September 04, 2009 1:54:00 PM  
Blogger Chasity said...

I've never actually watched Grey's, but let me tell you, I am totally counting down the days until the Fringe premiere.

And any nothing that manages to combine Star Wars, questionably dirty buckets, itchy left breasts, and slave girl get-ups is quite the nothing.

Friday, September 04, 2009 2:55:00 PM  
Blogger MereCat said...

Sorry about the foot. And the dirty bucket. And the tri-split level. We live in the tri-split too, and while in some ways it's great, if you're gimpy, it's so not great.

Friday, September 04, 2009 4:28:00 PM  
Blogger Mad Woman said...

OMG....too friggin' funny. Itchy breasts and Dead Dennys. You're hilarious!

Friday, September 04, 2009 9:00:00 PM  
Blogger Heather said...

That was a roller coaster of itchy, stabbing, wormy fun.

I am actually a little worried. Are you o.k.? How's your foot?

Friday, September 04, 2009 9:34:00 PM  
Blogger anymommy said...

If your foot falls off, it's absolutely Toolman's fault.

Friday, September 04, 2009 11:35:00 PM  
Blogger The Savage said...

And you're pretty too!
Lust!!!!!!

Saturday, September 05, 2009 5:17:00 AM  
Blogger just making my way said...

What is it about Epsom salt that it is always in some congealed mass that you have to chip away at? Sorry about your stabby foot. I hope you get to ring the "I need something" bell often today. I hope somebody responds to the ringing as well!

Saturday, September 05, 2009 7:33:00 AM  
Blogger The Stiletto Mom said...

Listen, if you are stuck balancing on one leg all weekend, you can use the time to practice your Karate Kid moves like "The Crane". If Tool Man yells "sweep the leg!" though, you are totally screwed.

Saturday, September 05, 2009 10:06:00 AM  
Blogger Hinkley said...

Ha ha this quote is classic: And then I thought hey, if I get a Dead Denny and his perpetually erect nipples out of the chance, then what's a few baked on messes? = made me chuckle no end!

What IS wrong with your foot??? Get well :)

Saturday, September 05, 2009 12:30:00 PM  
Blogger Chag said...

Our DVR is barren (minus a few kids' shows that have been watched roughly 10,000,000 times) and ready for the fall season. Unfortunately, I haven't seen anything I want to watch besides Glee.

Saturday, September 05, 2009 1:22:00 PM  
Blogger WhisperingWriter said...

Ouch, I'm sorry about your foot.

Grey's Anatomy is a good show though last season was a bit blah.

Saturday, September 05, 2009 5:16:00 PM  
Blogger Whitemist said...

I am still laughing. I think the dirty bucket was a contraindication for the Epsom salts. next time, get a cortisone shot.
I am not even going to touch the itchy left nipple thing.....
Hope you survive the cannibalism thing - i think adobe seasoning is better than epsom salts tho...

Saturday, September 05, 2009 10:36:00 PM  
Blogger Sherendipity said...

Dood! I leave for 2 months and you fall apart! What in the eff?
Feel better. No, seriously, do it.
Now.

Did that help?

Sunday, September 06, 2009 10:11:00 AM  
Blogger Laggin said...

Hello? Doctor. Seriously. That's just not normal.

Sunday, September 06, 2009 4:22:00 PM  
Blogger Kate Coveny Hood said...

I love the idea of Tool Man getting mad about Grey's spoilers. Hide your US Weeklies if you don't want to know anything. Or maybe it's just MY husband who mocks my "newspaper" yet somehow manages to read the entire thing while I'm not looking...

Sunday, September 06, 2009 10:44:00 PM  
Blogger Cocotte said...

Sounds like the start to another great holiday weekend!

We're sick here and my husband keeps bringing up Swine Flu - good times!

Monday, September 07, 2009 6:15:00 PM  
Blogger Heather said...

It's a little bit scary that your posts like this make sense to me.

Monday, September 07, 2009 7:37:00 PM  
Blogger Kathy B! said...

I think you are the only person I've read who can write like this and totally hook me every. single. time. I'm not sure what it's called. Not really stream of consciousness... anyway, Ilove it!!

I just hope you get your Dead Denny :)

Tuesday, September 08, 2009 8:30:00 AM  
Blogger Zip n Tizzy said...

OUCH!

Hope you're feeling better. If it makes you feel any better, I can't stand waking up to dirty dishes either, whether they be dirty and still in the sink, or in the dishwrack and still dirty.

Tuesday, September 08, 2009 3:30:00 PM  
Blogger blissfully caffeinated said...

I'm like 4 days late reading this and I just hope that you have hie'd yourself to a physician by now. And yes, I said hie. And I'm not even sure it's really a word. And also, I found Dead Denny to be much, much hotter than Alive Denny. He was all glowy and stubbly and handsome. But good lord I got so tired of the ghost sex. Grey's better kick it up a notch this season or I will definitely stop watching. On Thursdays, I mean. I'll still watch, but I'll wait a few days. Cause I'm hardcore. Take that, Shonda Rhimes.

Tuesday, September 08, 2009 6:05:00 PM  
Blogger WILLIAM said...

Doesn't every house have one of those buckets?

Wednesday, September 09, 2009 8:02:00 AM  
Blogger JoeinVegas said...

At least he came out of the garage with a bucket and not an axe.

Wednesday, September 09, 2009 11:07:00 AM  
Blogger Prefers Her Fantasy Life said...

This is the best post about nothing EVER!

Wednesday, September 09, 2009 11:58:00 AM  

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