What made me happy and why

To begin, I am an avid reader of Pajiba. It is, first and foremost, a movie review site which offers “scathing reviews for bitchy people.” I adore it.  Part of what I like so much, though, are the comments.  I mean it, some of the writers on there are freakin hilarious. The kind of funny I often wish I could be but rarely am unless I’m trading one-liners with a friend or my mom.

A recent feature, Eloquent Eloquence, has been reinstated. It culls the top 10 comments every week and offers a list. I’m glad it’s back, I get to read what really are some zingers that I probably missed.

And today, I made the list.  I seriously got so excited that I did a happy dance around my apartment and then called C.  All she really heard was “EE! EE! I made EE!” I think she thought I was just making little dolphin noises at her and she made me calm down.

Anyway, this is what I posted, in response to another comment about Snow’s “Informer” (yes, that crappy song from the early 90s) asking what, precisely, “a licky boom-boom down” meant.

It indicates he employed the oral section, or front two-thirds (as opposed to the posterior pharyngeal section) of his tongue in a downward motion upon her “boom boom,” which is a common euphemism for both nouns and verbs dealing with sexual acts or body parts involved with sex acts.

However, the “a” that precedes the phrase “licky boom-boom down” indicates that this is a noun phrase. In this case, “licky” could be adjectival, modifying a compound noun, “boom-boom down.” Alternately, both “licky” and “boom-boom” may be adjectival, modifying “down.” But that moves “down” from a directional preposition to a noun, changing the meaning to a salivating, explosive pile of pillow stuffing.

Pretty sure that’s what he meant.

Anyway, after years of reading and giggling at the reviewers and comments of Pajiba, I was pretty excited to make the illustrious EE list. Having someone think you’re funny is always a nice thing.

In other news, C and I have been doing even more decluttering.  As a shout out to M, no, we haven’t removed the giant blue rubbermaid boxes that are currently draped with fabric and serving as an end table, but we did open them and peer inside.  It was not exciting, but it’s nothing we can throw away, so they’re staying there.  Besides, if I got rid of them, where would I put that lamp?

But we did clear out even more books (amazing),  re-organized my closet/the storage area, and found the under-the-bed plastic containers to put away all our winter stuff.  I’m not so secretly hoping that by decluttering our space, I shall also clear my mind and get my damn thesis written. It’s all there (mostly), waiting to be written. Scattered notes, endless documents with grids and thoughts, and God only knows what else. You heard me, thesis. It’s ON.

The case of the missing pajamas

Last night as C and I were headed to bed, she suddenly asks “Have you seen my pajamas?”  I reply that I have not.  Minutes go by and then, “Seriously, where are they?”

We look everywhere: on the bed, in the bed, under the bed, in the closet, in the bathroom, in my hamper, in the washing machine and dryer, downstairs, in the freezer (hey, why not?), under the couch, EVERYWHERE.

We just can’t find them.  It’s the strangest thing. Now, the sheet from the bed was on the floor and she accused me of that. Which is a fair accusation because I hate blankets and I frequently kick them as far away from me as possible, but this time I didn’t do it!! The last time I was upstairs before we headed to bed, that sheet was on the bed and the cat was on the sheet. I think the cat dragged the sheet to the floor and I have a suspicion that the cat also made off with the pajamas. But where?  It’s a complete mystery.

Well, that was harrowing

Boy, is Austin fun! Last night, C and I watched the clouds roll in.  We knew a storm was coming, and I finally called upstairs that maybe we should move our cars under the carports outside because the man on the teevee mentioned hail.

As we stood outside, we noticed that ALL the cars from 3 buildings had been moved and people were standing outside on their porches. C and I stopped as well, looked up, and sniffed the air like two animals with creepy premonition. C caught a glimpse of something and pulled me to the side of the building.  We stood there, looking skyward and staring into a rolling cloud mass that was tinted blue-green.  To say it looked ominous is such an understatement. We turned our heads and heard, faintly, the tornado siren down the road.

Returning to our front stoop, C ran inside to find the cat and toss her into the downstairs bathroom.  I sat outside and watched the sky change until it started to rain.  C did what she does best, running around and gathering supplies. I sat there and watched the Super Doppler Voodoo Radar spin pretty colors at me.  I thought, “hey, purple!” before realizing that purple is not actually a good thing to see.

As we continued to watch, the wind started. We could hear the windows shaking and saw the rain coming in sideways. We knew that we shoul probably join the cat in the tiny bathroom, but couldn’t stop listening to the meteorologist as he said “unconfirmed, but possible touchdowns here, here, oh and over here.”

Two of those “here’s” were on either side of our neighborhood, and I could feel C’s hand tighten on my shoulder. I knew she was scared, but I was oddly calm.  The reason?  I had chosen to defy all logic and all I could think was, “But I’m cooking dinner! Pshaw, no one gets sucked out of the house when they have rice in the oven!”

Hey, you go with what works.

We’re fine, everything was fine. I took the stupid rice out of the oven, let it sit there while the power flickered, and when the weather calmed down 30 minutes later, cooked some chicken to go with it.

We ended our night as we always do, talking and giggling and fighting sleep like we’re at a slumber party.  C suddenly got very serious and said, “I was scared. I didn’t know what to do or how to protect you. But you seemed okay, much calmer than I was.”

I leaned over and said, just as seriously, “Let me tell you my theory about natural disasters and rice.”