Hoarders - The Beginning

First off - Hello to all the new followers and visitors to the blog! Let me wow you with some mundane shit  crazy-talk  ridiculousness  stuff.

So, Feyoncé wanted to do some purging and cleaning and sorting.

Apparently this is "all the rage" during "spring time". And yes, I have put spring in quotes, because this mother-effing snow won't piss off, so it's a pretty questionable spring time if you ask me.

Anyway, I immediately became defensive and wanted to save every extra toaster, bread bag plastic tie and odd-shaped glass container that I own... you know... just IN CASE.

In case of a large influx of 50 loaves of bread that show up without closure tags    in case of really impatient company and not enough bread slots, resulting in exceptional delays of toast delivery    because plastic is the devil and I am one crazy bitch.

You know, just in case we need it some time. It's so much easier if it is already around, as opposed to having to go out and buy new stuff.

So then I took a look around, and realized that some stuff was piling up ridiculously. The stuff you see all of the time, but your mind sort of cancels out the ugliness/ghetto-fabulousness/clutter/dirt/fur pile-up, just because it's always there. Like the great dane drool all across the walls.

I present to you Exhibit A of how I am becoming a Hoarder. The famed "junk drawer":

Prepared to tie bread, open wine, cut a bitch with a utility knife, and plug a sink with a warped drain stop.

I had every single bread bag tie that has ever entered this house since 2007. I shit.you.not. Why? I have no idea, because I also had every single elastic band that has ever made its way through the door. And twist ties, too, for good measure.

I tried to throw a bunch of shit out, and made some progress. I cleaned off some cupboards and re-organized (though, admittedly, didn't actually get RID of too much stuff).

Seriously, who gives a shit about my junk drawer? Really?

Oh well, at least ONE SINGLE FREAKIN' DRAWER has been cleaned. And Feyoncé did a drool wipe-down.

Does that count as spring cleaning? I say yes!

___

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Win & Fail

So, sometimes I feel like the ultimate shitty blogger.
No good thoughts, no witticisms bringing the house down with lols, ROLFLOLs, or people choking on their chicken wing and dying due to my hilarious content.

I realized today that I promised to guest post at two other bloggers' sites... Bruce at JADIP and Krissy at Talkative Taurus.

I went all wedding-y and did stuff, and was sick and down and out in between, then went to California, was in hospital, came back home, now suffering nightmares and unable to sleep through the night. I never guest posted.

Full of the AWESOME.

I have also been given an award by Sam at a Redhead Named Sam, chosen at random, but have yet to make mention of it. So... I get a big helping of FAIL for that.

On the other hand?

I WIN on Wii.



I am currently ranked #1 on all of Rock Band 3 for "Blow At High Dough" by the Tragically Hip (an awesome Canadian band who never were able to crack North American mainstream). I did vocals solo on expert. Boo-yah.

The smarter it gets, the further it's gonna go. #1 on Rock Band 3

I also did 10-fucking-straight-minutes of hula hoop on the Wii fit. I'm sure I broke no records, but people. 10 MINUTES OF HULA HOOP. That has to count for something, right?

10 minute Wii hula hoop: Not for pussies the weak.

RIGHT?

Okay, so the actual number of spins is about that number divided by 5 (What?!? They throw 5 hoops at you and add it to your total... not my fault!)

No?

Goddammit.

Fine, here is an adorable picture of my sleeping puppy Ella (with me trying to protect her lady-like-ness):

Sleepy puppy with some class.

___

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Have I Mentioned I Hate Cleaning?

So, I rolled my lazy ass out of bed somewhere around the noon-mark yesterday (mothers everywhere, feel free to hate on me).

As soon as I was up, Feyoncé was already cleaning up papers, putting crap away, doing laundry, saving lives and giving money to the poor.

I felt like I had enough energy to eat. Maybe, MAYBE even go to the store to get fruit to have with my wheat and dairy-laden waffles and coconut yogurt.

After I bravely faced the hoardes of slow-moving elderly shoppers at the jam-packed grocery store, fought through same drivers in the parking lot, grabbed a coffee and made it home, I was ready for a nap again.

What did I end up doing, you ask?

Well, Feyoncé was talking about this "spring cleaning" phenomenon that I am vaguely aware of. He went to the store and ran some errands.

I ended up cleaning the front entrance way.

On my mother-effin' hands and knees.
Using a mother-effin' toothbrush to get all the dog drool and dirt and grossness that couldn't be reached with regular, upright cleaning methods.

People, a MOTHER-EFFIN' toothbrush.

I inhaled all kinds of "Fantastik" cleaner, I Swiffer wet-jetted that vinyl flooring like no other assault it has likely ever seen in its life. I think I vaccuumed before washing about 3 times, just to be sure. And I used that weird pointy, funnel-down-to-a-point edge attachment.

Yes, I used central vaccuuming ACCESSORIES, I was so hard core.

The soundtrack to this wondrous (if not atypical) cleaning event?

It's pure gold... bellbottoms.

Oh yeah, Abba, on full blast, so as to hear it over the vaccuum, scrubbing, swearing, sweating, and brushing. (As in mother-effin' toothbrushing the wood floor trim).

Feyoncé came home. I could tell the music was jarring to him. So while I was on my hands and knees, Feyoncé literally said the music needed to be turned down.

WHAAAAAAAAAAT?!?

But... they're so HAPPY, honey... it's ABBA?!?

I'm on my mother-effin' knees cleaning the mother-effin' quarter-round wood trim, and he DARES to try to soften/quiet/stop the ABBA?

I was angry... I need the music to motivate.  (p.s. I would have been much happier playing with a kite instead.)

Anyway, the poor guy ALSO worked his butt off doing the mile-high stack of dishes, to the only slighty-quieter ABBA soundtrack.

I later found out that he truly, deeply hates ABBA, that it was an awful experience for him, and, when asked, he was hard pressed to tell me ANY OTHER POSSIBLE MUSIC I could have played that would have been worse for him. (My apologies on the abuse of the comma there).

Anyone else need loud music to clean?
Clean their floors/rim with a toothbrush?

Anyone else think Swiffer is total BULLSHIT, since it makes it LOOK clean, but makes it sticky, which will ultimately just attract more dirt, requiring you to Swiffer again, causing an endless vortex of swiffer-squirting-then-sticking-then-resquirting?

No? Just me? 

FINE.

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