Mr. Awesome Throws a Tantrum

It happened the day after Thanksgiving.


Dan had to go to work, so he left 7:45-ish.  Unbeknownst to me, Mr. Awesome, my downstairs neighbor, had the day off from Awesome Duty at the local Marine Corps Recruiting Office (or wherever he works... I'm not really sure.  I may or may not just be making that up.  He's a Marine and he thinks he's awesome... beyond that, I'm clueless).


Here's what happened:


I got up right after Dan left, started my coffee going, and went pee. While I was peeing, Maisy (my pug) apparently got a wild hair up her butt and went a little nuts.  She occasionally will start tearing around the apartment, doing loops through the livingroom and around the legs of the coffee table, then she'll stop for a minute and make sure we're watching, then she'll do it again and again until she wears herself out.


I think it's hilarious.


(This is a video of Maisy doing her Crazy Pug Run.  Yes, I'm the one laughing like a demented hyena in the background.  Prepare to be amazed by my mad recording skillz, yo.)






So now that you have a visual, this is what Maisy was doing for the 30 seconds it took me to pee.  She would do a lap through the livingroom then come into the bathroom to look at me, then do it again.  


She had time for maybe three laps.


I found it extremely entertaining and laughed accordingly.


Right at that exact moment, Mr. Awesome got pissed.

"I'm awesomely pissed."

THEN he threw a tantrum.

My wrath is AWESOME.

First, he hammered on the ceiling for about 5 minutes, effectively ending the Pug Party in my apartment.  

THEN... he opened all the windows in his apartment (in spite of the fact that it was snowing) and cranked his horrible music as loud as he could.

I was skooled, yo.

He left his music at full blast for over an hour, during which time he left his apartment.  

When he came back, approximately 45 minutes later, he slammed our communal door three times before going back into his apartment and turning off his music.

Meanwhile, I went through the Five Stages of Fury:

1.  Wait... are YOU fucking with ME?

2.  Oh yeah?  

3.  You won't like me when I'm angry...

4.  Die, Motherfucker!!!  DIE!!!!

5.

Then I remembered I was an adult.  

SHIT.

The next day, I killed Mr. Awesome with kindness by baking him cookies and hanging them on his doorknob in a gift bag with a little note thanking him for his service.

Suck on that, asshole.

I win at life.  BOO-yahhh!!

A Month of Shame

Hi, my name is Dani, and I'm disgusting.

I've had a sneaking suspicion for a while about my disgustingness, but I finally rowed my ass out of the River of Denial and let reality kiss me full on the lips.


And now I know for sure:

I. Am. Disgusting.

It started out simply enough... I have nowhere to go, for the most part, winter is arriving and wearing shorts is pretty much out of the question, and if I ever need to don a dress and show some leg, I'm pretty sure I'll have a few days notice.

So I got super lazy about shaving my legs.

(The following is TMI... you may want to stop reading right about... NOW.)

Since my legs are covered like 100% of the time, it got realllll easy to not notice the prickly stubble growing in patches here and there along my calves.  

Showering and drying off were pretty much the only instances in which I said, "Ewwww..." and thought that perhaps I should do something about it.

Thoughts are fleeting.

Slowly but surely, the stubble turned in to full blown hair.  I'm not a hairy girl, despite my ancestry (and my mother, aka Ape Woman) so it's not like I was King Kong from the knees down, but still.  Had my house caught fire in the middle of the night while I was sleeping and during my escape I had somehow lost my pants, eyes would have been drawn to my leg hair.  Subtle glances would have become awkward stares.  People would have talked.  I would have been self-conscious and embarrassed about the condition of my calves. 

Has anyone seen my pants?

Meanwhile, as grossed out as I was by my slothfulness, I was also slightly fascinated by the growth of hair.  It became something of a science experiment.

Why, for instance, did hair grow in some places and not in others?  Why is my leg hair patchy?  Why are the strands on the backs of my legs longer than the strands on the front?  

And finally, how long would the hair get if I just never shaved it again?  Would it continue to grow indefinitely, until it was sweeping the floor like a Yorkshire terrier?  Would I receive Best In Show?  Or would it reach a point where it just... stopped?  And then what?  

I'm too sexy for my leg hair.

As I am (still) unemployed, I really had nothing better to do than monitor the growth of my leg hair.

It made me feel slightly productive.  Like I was contributing something to science.

And then, last night, this happened:

Not really me... but totally could be.

Me:  *absent mindedly scratching my calf*

Dan:  *suddenly, after a month, noticing that something was slightly amiss*  "What's all over your leg?"

Me:  "Huh?"

Dan:  *eyes widening*  "Is that... hair?"

Me:

Dan:  *staring rudely*

Me:  "Ummm..."

Dan:  "Is that hair??"

Me:  "Maybe..."

Dan:  "How long has it been since you've shaved your legs??"

Me:  "Uhhh... I dunno, maybe a week?"  

(I am SUCH a liar.)

Dan:  *incredulously*  "A WEEK?"

Me:  "Ummm..."

Dan:  "I will pay you to shave that shit off."


I have been unemployed for 7 months... I would shave my freaking head for cash.

So today, the leg hair is gone.  Shaving it off was even grosser than growing it, in case you were wondering.  

Amen, Sista!

Messing with Sasquatch

"Who is it?"

Dan is deaf.  Seriously.  There is simply no nice way to put it, no politically correct way to ease into it... My man can't hear worth shit. It's partially due to a congenital defect in his eustachian tube (I do so love tossing in big ol' medical words, cuz it makes me feel all smart n shit), which in turn created extreme scarring in his ear drums.  Add to that his complete inability to listen unless the conversation is about him, mix in cranking up his music too loudly as a teen and working with very loud power equipment without the benefit of ear protection as an adult and what's left is a large man who says "What?" all the time and asks a LOT of questions.  A LOT.

It is a HUGE.  PAIN.  In my ASS.   

Me:  *speaking in a normal tone of voice*

Dan:  "WHAT?"

Me:  *repeating myself a little louder*

Dan:  "WHAT??"

And so on.

Now comes the twist:

Captain Asperger can't stand to NOT KNOW who is on the other end of the phone.  It drives him CRAZY.  If a phone is ringing, he HAS TO ANSWER IT.  

But did he stop everything for a ringing phone??

I won't go into detail (well, too much detail, anyway) about some of the things Dan has stopped doing in order to answer a ringing phone, but suffice it to say, it's left me annoyed.  Okay, furious.  

A week or so ago we were taking a shower together.  (Let's say, for the benefit of all of you who might be related to me, especially my children, that we were fully clothed and merely washing up at the same time.  Mmmmkay?)  

The phone rang.

Dan was out of the shower, covered in soap, leaving sloppy wet sudsy footprints from the bathroom to the livingroom before I could say "They'll leave a message."  

It was his mother.

He stood there, dripping and naked, and talked to her for 10 minutes.

I was out of the shower, dry, dressed, and doing my hair by the time he got off the phone.  Then we had the following conversation:

Dan:  *looking perplexed and puppy-doggish*  "Why did you get out of the shower?  Why didn't you wait for me?"

Me:  

Dan:  "But it was my mom..."

Yeah.

Anyway.

So when the phone rings and Dan is in the other room and I answer it, his curiosity just about kills him.  

KILLS.  HIM.

He will stop whatever he's doing and start following me around the house, making hand gestures and mouthing at me, "Who is it?"

Me:  *ignoring him and making a "go away" motion with my hand*

Dan:  "But who is it?"

Me:  *shaking my head at him and holding up one finger in the nationally recognized "wait just a fucking minute" gesture*

Dan:  *waving his hands and mouthing*  "Who IS it?"

Me: *turning my back on him*

Dan:  *poking me and making exaggerated "who is it" motions*

Me:  *flapping my hand in his face and glaring*

Dan:  "Dani."

Me:  *ignoreignoreignoreignore*

Dan:  "DANI."

Me:  *ignoreignoreignoreignore*

Person on the other end of the phone, usually a friend of mine:  "Oh for God's sake, just tell him who it is!"

Me:  "No."

Dan:  *practically wetting himself with anxiety*  "DANI!"

Me:  *ignoreignoreignoreignore*

Dan:  "DANI!!"

Me:  *finally giving in because otherwise, I'm going to kill him*  "IT'S NOT FOR YOU!!!"

Dan:  *seriously*  "Did you say 'snot'?"

GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!