I'm Like Dr. Seuss, With All These THINGS

Today, a blog in Things.

I really hope you guys who haven't read and commented will go read and comment on my post yesterday. It's not a very good post (I'm totally selling you on this, right?), but you have the opportunity to tell me how to kill people without anyone judging your violent tendencies. So, go. Comment. Tell me how and why to kill people. They're fictional. But you can pretend they're not, if that's your kind of thing...

I remembered to pay my credit card bill on time. It's not like I'm really bad at this. I'm not dodging the bill or barely making the minimum payment. I pay the whole balance every time. So I only fail a little, but I do it every month. You see, with the time difference between Far North and Big City Where Credit Card Companies Are Headquartered, I'm always about a half hour late.

That's right. A HALF HOUR. And that means a full day, because they are closed by 9:00 pm their time and cannot process my payment until the next day. So for the last four months, I have been stuck with a $1.50 late payment or something equally silly. But it's money I don't need to spend and it may be affecting my credit score (I'm not sure about this...). So, today is THE SEVENTEENTH. And even thought my bill is always due on the NINETEENTH, I paid it TODAY.

And I'm not even going to fake it; I'm incredibly, ridiculously proud of myself.

I have a strange thing on the underside of my chin that is very likely a pimple that got lost on its way to my nose or forehead, but is just as likely (in my mind anyway) to be some kind of cancerous growth or the subcutaneous egg pouch of some exotic spider that got me while I was sleeping. I think I might be spending too much time over at the Sarcasm Goddess's blog, where she discusses her hypochondria proactive approach to health care and her twisted love-affair with WebMD. Probably.

Oh, AND? I totally forgot to tell you guys--or maybe I did and I can't remember. I don't even know how I would go about looking for this. So let's pretend that I never told you and if I did, please gasp and widen your eyes appropriately, okay? So, starting over:

Oh, AND? I totally forgot to tell you guys that while I was away being all piratey and kind-of-sort-of-but-not-really getting fired, I GOT BITTEN BY FLEAS!!! I'm not even exaggerating here. Five or six of the women who went to Ladies Retreat developed these tiny hard red bites all up and down our arms and legs. And when we looked them up, the only ones that matched were FLEAS.

The camp claims we are crazy and I never knew fleas even existed in Far North, since we don't have any kind of poisonous snakes, insects, or spiders--it's just too darn cold here for them to survive past the first frost. But I think we get some stuff here every spring in shipments and on airplanes and they die off by the fall, but in the meantime? FLEAS! It's crazy right? But I swear it's true. Just ask Sister or Sister-In-Law. Or my pastor's wife. She wouldn't lie about the FLEAS. Trust me.

But back to the thing on my chin. It just showed up today. Like, when I got out of the shower. It was all of the sudden just there! And I had one on my forearm last night. My forearm. That's not normal, right? So I'm going to go with exotic bug and/or amnesiac pimples. Which is probably more information that you needed to know about my skin, but whatever. In fact? I'm going to take it one step farther and tell you about the time I got shingles. No. No, I'm not. Because it's a hard time to talk about and also, ew.

The book is going better. I'm still not sure why all of these people are dead, who killed them, or how my detective will figure it out. but I drew a really complicated and confusing plot map this morning and it made me feel better. It didn't solve ANY of my problems, but just looking at it makes me feel like I'm getting somewhere. I'm not, but the trick is to just feel like I am so that I keep writing.

Just in case you guys didn't get enough of me talking about my body, I just have to let you know that I have two small woodland creatures taking up residence on my forehead. Seriously, my eyebrows are OUT OF CONTROL. I get them waxed every time I get a hair cut and then I try to keep them nice until my next haircut, because I know they grow faster than my hair (especially since I keep my hair several inches past my shoulders). I tweeze and I pluck and I ATTACK!

But there comes this point. About a month and a half after the haircut, that they are suddenly, irrevocably Muppet-like. And my tweezers just cannot keep up. I'll pluck them the day before and then the next day, BAM! It's all over. Does this happen to any of the rest of you? Maybe this is just because I stole Groucho Marx's eyebrows. I feel bad about it now, but this curse is disproportionate to my crime. Like those pirates with the gold. Or something. Does anyone even know what I'm talking about now? Do I? Probably not...

I dreamt last night that I was on a cruise ship and I was afraid of several of the staircases and hallways, because I thought I would get stuck. I had an ACTUAL FEAR and avoided certain parts of the ship, because I was TOO FAT TO FIT (I think we all know the meaning of this dream, which I contemplated extensively while I was munching on some delicious chocolate-chip cookies).

ANYWAY, that's not even the real part of the dream. That was just like background noise in the dream. No, the dream was that I kept getting drunken texts from famous football players. They apparently had gotten my cell number from The Bloggess. Because apparently, she knows a lot of famous football players who like alcohol and she knows my cell phone number. Because she and I are besties and all that. And by using the term "besties," I am simultaneously mocking those who use it unironically and also telling you that I wrote The Bloggess an e-mail the other day with an idea for a holiday card involving her giant metal chicken (that post has gotten me the most traffic ever) and SHE RESPONDED, saying that she had already thought of it. We think alike AND she responded to my e-mail. That totally makes us best friends. Or something.

There is no thing seven. I just can't stop typing. Type-ity-type-type. I think it's a sickness or something. Probably a side-effect of the bites from the Amnesic Pimple Spiders. I'm going to go eat some fajitas. Bye.


  1. We might be related. I totally had that weird growth thing behind my ear. I thought it was baby spiders but turns out it was an inflamed lymph node. Inflamed with spiders, probably.

  2. Okay, that last one was a test.

    I hate to break it to you, but it's totally spiders. WebMD said so, so it must be true.

    Thank you for the whoring. You are the best pimp EVAH!!!!!!!!!!!!

  3. You make me smile. And, I love you!

  4. Probably. Those spiders are tricksy. And easily inflamed. Or we are easily inflamed by them. I'm not sure. English is hard. Also, I hope we're related. I love my family, but it's definitely missing someone who would help me buy giant metal chickens and strangler monkeys.

  5. I love you, too. Would *you* help me buy giant metal chickens and strangler monkeys? Because this is one time I would be happy to be wrong.

  6. And we know WebMD is ALWAYS right. It was nice knowing you. I hope you all miss me when the Amnesiac Pimple Spiders leach the last it of life out of me. Tell my mother I loved her? Oh, wait. I just did that... Tell her again?