Nitty~Gritty

random thoughts about my life

Company has arrived in full force.  I’ve done enough of these family functions to know just how to turn them in my favor.  First, they’re all staying at a fancy hotel down the street.  Second, they’ve rented their own car.  Third, I’ve cooked all the meals ahead of time so there’s no stressing.  Fourth, and most importantly, for Thanksgiving tomorrow, I’ll be saying, “Yes, we’re the Hookemup’s, party of 8” and he’ll say, “Right this way mam.”  No dishes no pass me the yams, just a buffet to please the masses.  I’ve got it made.  Now if I can just get them to lie off of the wine, we’ll be ok.

posted by: hookemup at 09:42 | link | comments (2) |

It was 2:30am.  We awoke to a strange sound.  “What was that?”  “I think it was shots.”  “Maybe it was someone opening the garage door?”  About five minutes later, we hear more strange sounds.  “Oh my gosh, that sounded like someone breaking our window!”  We called the cops just as the third set of bullets was heard.  “911, what’s your emergency?”  “Um, yes, we heard gunshots outside our house.”  “Did you hear screams or people running?”  “Um, no.”  “Ok, we’ll try to send someone out there.”  I start begging him not to go outside in fear of him getting into something he had no business getting into.  He settled for a few peeks outside the windows.  You see he’s on the gang unit these days, sending crypts or bloods to prison, usually for assaults involving guns.  I know there are facts he doesn’t tell me about his job but I like it that way, ignoring concerns for his safety. I awaken at 6am with my first thought of going outside and checking on things.  There it was, lime green paint, staring back at me.  Those gunshots we heard were from a paint ball gun.  The drive by’s we kept hearing, must have involved someone hanging out of the car aiming at our house as I laid awake inside full of fear.  I cried.  No one else’s house had any paint on it.  Nope, just ours.  Not only was our house lime green but also so was our car.  I’m not talking about a few splatters of paint but a completely covered house.  Covered in hate. 

posted by: hookemup at 09:29 | link | comments (4) |

posted by: hookemup at 09:18 | link | comments (5) |

Cute hubby’s been sick with snot producing cold.  We’ve been making love without kissing, slightly turning our heads.  I must say, there’s a bit about it that’s erotic, maybe even downright slutty. Kissing seems so simple in the act of sex but without it, there’s no real connection.  It’s a one-arm embrace.  

posted by: hookemup at 08:57 | link | comments (8) |

I’m scared of the sponge that sits on the edge of my sink, full of nasty things that I deny live in it.  I’m also scared one day I’ll get the nerve to smell one.

I’m scared I’ll get breast cancer one day.

I’m scared of the people who run carnivals.  Why do all of them smoke with missing teeth and tattoos?

I’m scared of a hotel shower curtain liner actually touching my body when I’m in the shower.

I’m scared of people who don’t drink coffee.

I’m scared I’ll die in a plane crash.

I’m scared I’ll get lice from a movie theatre seat.

I’m scared of what lives behind our refrigerator.

I’m scared of being stuck on the side of the road and in need of a tire change.

I’m scared of my Vietnamese neighbor because I never see his wife or kids. I know they’re in there.  I can hear them.

I’m scared I’m becoming like Bree on Desperate Housewives because having a clean organized house pleases me so much.

posted by: hookemup at 12:12 | link | comments (6) |

. I always saw my parents as invincible. As a kid, I wondered who would take care of me if they ever got sick.  What would become of me?  My parents were never really sick, just the typical stuff.  The only time I saw one of them bleed was when my mom got some dental work done.  I can still see her sitting on the bed pulling out bleeding gauze screaming in pain.  I thought she was dying.  I was never one to tell them I was scared, instead I internalized it, lying awake at night alone to my blown up thoughts of reality. If they died who would I live with?   There was The Johnson’s down the street but their daughter was a pretty bully, a horrible combination.  There were my grandparents but they too would die on me so that wasn’t an option, such heavy thoughts for an eleven year old.  Now that I’m the parent, I often wonder what’s going on in Spirited Toddlers head.  Cute Hubby is sick in bed and it’s really confusing him.  He goes into the bedroom like a giant saying, “Fe-Fi-Fo-Fum!” pretending to scare his daddy but still he won’t get up and play with him.  This morning we’ve read books for about an hour.  After every book, Spirited Toddler would hug and kiss me like crazy exclaiming, “I love this family” It’s amazing how he just knows the dynamics have changed and he’s making sure everyone loves him still.  Unfortunately, he’s sick now too.  At first I thought God was playing some cruel joke on me filling my house with whiny demanding men but then I remembered how beautiful I thought my mother was when she would take care of me.  Having a mom to tuck you in like a sausage was always a comforting wonderful thing.  Today I’ll pamper them June Cleaver style for I may be next in the sick bed.

posted by: hookemup at 07:57 | link | comments |

This is a penis pen. If you’re lucky enough to attend a Passion Party, you’ll be the proud owner of the penis pen. It’s weird when you fill out your order form it’s much more fun with the penis pen but the fun doesn’t stop there. Below is a list of other exciting things I’ve discovered one can do with a penis pen. Here’s what I’ve come up with so far:

1. Hitting a co-worker on the head when they’ve come up with a stupid idea while you shout, “Use your head!” Gay men love this one.
2. Sticking the penis pen in your ear and pretending you can’t hear. “Sorry, I can’t hear you, I’ve got a penis in my ear.”
3. If I point towards the screen with my magic penis wand it instantly sends creative thoughts flowing. It’s like, “damn, I can’t think of anything to write about today. I’ll wave this magic penis pen in front of my screen and voila!” I giggle at the mere sight of such a tiny penis, remembering old boyfriends and just like that, I instantly have funny stuff to write about, and be thankful for.
4. When you’re out with the gals, you can order a cosmopolitan, whip out the penis pen/swizzle stick and stir up a night of fun plus if you get a guys number, turn the penis swizzle stick around and it’s a real pen. Believe me, he’ll call you after seeing your love for the penis.
5. Sometimes during a boring, taking too long, blowjob, I want to just rest for a while but that would produce a pissed off lover. With the penis pen, you can just rest your head on it’s head while having a deep thought and never have to worry about the owner of the penis saying, “get off of my head!” (I do not recommend giving the penis pen blowjobs because it’s way too tiny. No one’s impressed when you swallow with a penis pen because you’d actually just swallow the one-inch penis thus producing gagging sounds and making you feel stupid for not being able to take such a tiny penis. Plus, when a paramedic removes a tiny penis from your clogged throat, it’s just sad.)
6. One of my favorite things is whipping out the penis pen while writing a check. Sometimes I bite the head while asking the clerk, “What was the total?” (One place I do not recommend using the penis pen is when you write a check at church. This is way too risky and someone from the “prayer committee” may be stop by)
7. Stick the penis pen up your nose. Pull it out making sure something slimy is attached. Start yelling, “My penis has an STD!” Run around the room and chase the people with your booger-covered penis. Only do this one when everyone is drunk.
8. Massage your temples with the tip of the penis. Someone will ask you, “Are you feeling ok?” Then you get to say, “No, my head really hurts.”

What’s better than hours of fun with the penis pencil? Well, we played a ring toss game with a 2ft purple dildo but it wasn’t as much fun.

The funny part about a Passion Party is that they make you go into a room by yourself so you’ll feel free to order without judging eyes. When the party’s over, she brings out these little black bags with your goodies and you leave knowing everyone will be having an orgasm soon and that’s just fucked up. When asking cute hubby, “What do you want me to come home with?” He said, “your dignity.” My dignity flew out the window when I held the Clitopatra.

posted by: hookemup at 09:48 | link | comments (8) |

I’m almost out of Halloween candy. I’m sorry, did I say “I”, I meant Spirited Toddler, oops. Anyway, the kids out of the good stuff and I’m left with nothing but the hard stuff, meaning boring lollipops and Smarties. When I was a kid, I would pretend that Smarties were pills swallowing them whole. I must have thought pill popping would make me an adult. I also remember straightening out a paperclip, placing it in my mouth and pretending I had a retainer. I’d flash you a painful smile, thinking I was fitting in. Painful because having a sharp metal stick in your mouth cuts your cheeks up, which I guess was my first lesson that pain was a small price to pay for beauty. I was cursed as a kid with straight teeth so I never got to enjoy braces or a headgear like all the cool kids. How sad is that? Anyway, back to the candy point. I should have encouraged him to go the extra mile in hopes of scoring a few extra chocolate goodies because I had no idea it would disappear so fast. Next year, I’ll know better. What I’m starting to enjoy about this upcoming holiday season is the mail I’m getting. The postman is determined to fill my box with the tackiest catalogs in the world, and I love it. Yesterday I received three of the best. I’ve been looking for a donkey that dispenses cigarettes out of its ass for a long time now. I was losing hope but here it is, right in my catalog. I don’t smoke and I’m not fond of donkeys but hey, the cigarette comes out of its ass, have I told you that part already? I still can’t decide if I should go with the singing mountain goat or The History of the Whoopee Cushion. My Barney Fife Cookie Jar is on backorder but my Dukes of Hazzard (yes, they spell it with two Z’s) T-shirt should be arriving soon. I’ve always looked good in orange and know it will make a great addition to my holiday attire. When the Christmas commercials start, I’ll be thrilled. Maybe I’ll get the nerve up to finally buy a Salad Shooter!

Oh, and coming up soon I will post about the Passion Party, or what I like to remember it as; The night I held a 2ft. purple dildo.

posted by: hookemup at 14:04 | link | comments (3) |

My hands are cracked and bleeding.  When you work with kids, you work with snotty noses and drool so I’m trying to kill the coodies before I forget they’re on there and I pick my nose or rub my eyes. (I can’t believe coodies isn’t in spellchecker?)  I usually don’t stick them in my mouth so I’m ok there.  I’m not washing them constantly like some obsessive compulsive but I’m squeezing that water free hand wash stuff that smells like alcohol on them way too much.  I guess that is a bit obsessive compulsive but I’m ignoring all the warning signs.  Anyway, it’s drying out my hands to the point that I have small cracks that get filled with the burning alcohol crap every time I do it so now it’s just painful as hell so not only do I look crazy with bleeding hands but now I let out a small scream every time I clean them causing people to be concerned and stare.  Now my hands are cracked, bleeding, burning, and mangled.  They’re not really mangled like I stuck them into a blender but I’m hiding them so no one will see how I’ve let them go.  Another thing I’ve let go is my eyebrows.  They’re not like a unibrow but they’re crazy and out of control, I’d say hideous even.  Every time I look in the mirror, I think, “damn girl, get those eyebrows under control!”  But then I realize because I’ve let them go so much, getting rid of the hair would involve either hot wax or an hour of squinting into a tiny mirror torturing myself slowly with tweezers one hair at a time.  Don’t get me wrong, hot wax is sexy but not when there’s a chance of it dripping into your eye causing instant blindness.  Beautiful eyebrows just aren’t worth it when you can’t see the looks on peoples faces because you know they’ll be looking at you thinking, “Wow she’s got a great body but damn here eyebrows rock!”  You know, I think my city hasn’t gotten the memo that it’s winter because I swear we must be the only state that still has real people walking around comfortably in shorts and t-shirts.   Seriously folks, I’ve heard that there are people out there right now wearing sweaters.  Who are you and where does one even buy a sweater?  Last season because I was determined to make myself a psudo-winter, I knitted about 50 scarves so if you need one just let me know.

posted by: hookemup at 09:00 | link | comments (3) |

Don’t get me wrong, I love doing family activities but seriously folks, it starting to sound like we’re preparing for a first grade spelling bee over here.  We’ve reached this point in parenting where we have to outwit spirited toddler by spelling things.  Simple things really like, B-A-T-H or C-O-O-K-I-E-S but I think he’s catching on.  Now the spelling of some items around the house can be tricky.  For instance, DVD, now there’s a word that’s already spelled out so we’ve had to get clever and use A-B-C for DVD.  Now this may seem confusing but it’s like we have our own language.  Don’t those weird Star Trek people speak a different language? (Please don’t leave comments in regards to the fact that I just said Star Trek was weird because it is and I’m not willing to argue with you.  Oh but I loved the documentary about trekkies, I forgot what it was called.  The point is, Trekkies= weird, Movie=good. Anyway, I’m going to end this parentheses mess) I’ve noticed that other parents are schooled in this language as well.  Just the other day a friend asked if we had any J-U-I C-E.  Now, this one we don’t spell at our house so I had to take a moment to spell it back to myself and think about it.  Now because we want to seem like we’re wholesome parents, we also spell subjects like S-E-X because it seems that we use it a lot and don’t want spirited toddler to say that word in play group because then I’d look like I’ve scared my child for life by teaching him “dirty” words.  Last night I said, “Wait, let me got potty before we have S-E-X.”  I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that I spelled sex or I told cute hubby I had to go potty?  Either way, I felt pretty D-U-M-B.

posted by: hookemup at 14:54 | link | comments (2) |

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posted by: hookemup at 09:03 | link | comments (8) |

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