Tag Archives: humor

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Let there be (no) light.

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Next up in the man cave? Blinds. Which were really fun to shop for considering all the windows are different sizes and thanks to my do it yourself I’m too cheap to pay a carpenter to do the finish work husband.

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The price of custom blinds that would have fit perfectly was ridiculous.

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That window, the smallest ( not to mention crookedest ) was quoted at $310. For one blind! I bought all 6 of these light filtering cellular linen shades for $272. That’s a no brainer.

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Working his way around the room, I followed and tried my hardest to get right in his way.

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At least that’s what he’d tell you. I prefer to think of it as active assistance.

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Which is why I was banished to the other side of the room…. where I sat quietly and read a few blogs.

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But when it came to the final window behind the bar I had to speak up.

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Because after he installed this one, which had the best fit… only 3/8ths of an inch off… he plopped his big bullet back on the sill.

( I know it’s a round and not a bullet, I just say that to get a rise out of my husband. Did it aggravate you as well? Then yay for me. . )

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The problem? The blind won’t go all the way down because the bullet is too fat.

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When I told him this was unacceptable (the main reason for putting up blinds in the first place was to keep the sun from fading the bar) and suggested alternate placements for the big bullet, he forbade me to move it ( as if I could, it’s live and weighs a ton and a half ). When I stressed the need for it’s relocation due to the sun baking on the glass door of the mini fridge causing it to work harder, he told me he’d “think about it”. FFS, what is there to think about? Bullet too big, blind doesn’t close, move big bullet. It isn’t rocket science.

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If you don’t have any plans today….

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Perhaps you’d like to hug a water buffalo.

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It’s free, and you have to admit the toddlers sure are cute.

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Of course inviting you to hug a calf and then directing you to the store to purchase a rump roast of his family is a bit rude….

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I hope no one tells this sweet little fellow Uncle Otto didn’t really go to Boca on vacation.

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*Gulp*

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I’m sorry, but I have to.

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Apologies in advance to my male readers. Continue at your own risk… and remember, you were warned.

My girlfriend and I went to a discount store last week called Mardens. Personally, I can’t stand the place. They have aisle after aisle of cheap discontinued goods that make Wal Mart look like Neiman Marcus… but it’s a Maine staple and she loves trying to find the gold amidst the junk. While she was treasure hunting? I saw this:

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And pardon my childless ignorance, but it just looked… wrong. I figured it was some kind of nursing bra and because I value you my loyal reader… I did some research.

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And I think it’s safe to say I was a trifle…. befuddled.

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Is it me, or does this look vaguely weaponized?

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A hands free pumping bra…. for when you want to be hooked up to a bovine milking machine and cruise Instagram at the same time.

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Meanwhile at Casa River…

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Night time visitors continue to surprise us when we walk back from the barn.

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And while surprising us is no big deal? Surprising them can be.

🤢

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A friend of my husband’s gifted him this Red Sox clock. He loved it and immediately hung it on the man cave wall. I on the other hand, realized it’s outdated. It says “7 time World Champions” when the number is currently 9. The reason for the gift is now apparent, at least to me.

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Lord Dudley Mountcatten? He couldn’t care less.

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Behold the wonder I found at the package store. Margarita wine! Taste test and review to follow..

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Our neighbors have all the luck. They get an exotic bird with iridescent plumage….we get a red squirrel bitch with sharp teeth.

😡

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That’s one expensive nosebleed.

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I’m in the minority in my state, and my geographic region for that matter… because I don’t care for the Patriots. But what really makes me an oddball? The fact that I don’t like Tom Brady. We won’t get into the reasons, but suffice it to say when he moved to Tampa Bay? I happily waved bye bye.

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We have friends who recently moved to Florida. Being major Brady fans, they were thrilled when he followed them to the sunshine state. But for people in my neck of the woods, it’s a quandary. They want to keep rooting for the Patriots, but still love Tommy. So when the NFL schedule was announced and a date was picked for the Bucs vs Pats game at Foxboro? Insanity ensued. Tickets for the we’re so effin’ far away from the field we should send a postcard nosebleed section seats?

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$3,200 per. And may I just say… what the utter f*ck! I’m not a football fan so it’s not like I’d be going anyway, but how many blue collar American workers can afford that? None, that’s how many.

And if you want a good seat?

Tickets for Section 111…. on the Patriots sideline… are going for $42,000 per. Which brings to mind one word.

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And it’s not raccoon.

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When everything that can go wrong…. does. Part 2

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We woke Saturday morning trying to laugh at how horrible the day before had been. It was a definite nightmare, but the sun was shining, the birds were singing and we had new leather chairs to unpack!

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We also had large tracks torn in our lawn from our friend’s giant diesel truck. Of course it had to rain while we were gone the night before, making the ground nice and slippery when he backed up to the porch. 😬

Oh well, out to the barn we went to unwrap the chairs. These chairs… the pretty caramel colored ones we picked out at the store.

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And when we unwrapped the first one?

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It was the wrong color. And had no legs. WTF??? I was livid. After all we went through to get the damn things! I was even pissed off at the tag…

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Real natural? As opposed to what…. fake natural, or real pleather?

I was sputtering and reaching for my phone to call the store and pitch a fit when the husband decided he liked the wrong color and wanted to keep them. Which meant one of two things… he didn’t want to hear me bitch and rant or the thought of waiting another 2 months for replacements and going through the whole warehouse trip again was simply too much.

Either way, he wanted them. And though I wasn’t happy with the much darker color, sometimes I have to remember it’s his man cave and he should be allowed to choose something every now and then. (not that I’ll make a habit of that mind you) But we still had to deal with the no legs issue. We searched the boxes and the wrappings and under the cushions. Nothing. I was getting ready to call the store again and pitch a fit when the husband noticed a string hanging under the second chair.

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There was a zippered compartment under each chair with a box of legs. Clever. But I have to wonder how many other clueless customers search in vain.

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Pieces and parts. And a few hammer shots later…

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I read another tag.

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Our leather chairs are going to have zits and mosquito bites? WTH.

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So there they are. In all their too damned dark glory.

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Husband is happy, and I have to admit they’re very comfortable. But I’m thinking a few strategically placed throw pillows will go a long way to pull it altogether.

😉

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An adventure with weed.

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Lord Dudley Mountcatten is sweet…. but his less than sweet claws are doing a number on our rugs and furniture so I purchased yet another scratching post for the furry little peckerwood him.

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It’s part carpet.. since he pulls the loops out of our Berber on a daily basis.. and part sisal. What cat wouldn’t want to scratch that?

Turns out… our cat. Because his Royal Highness wouldn’t touch it. Walked right by it without so much as a glance. Which meant it was time to bring in the big guns.

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Yes, I hosed that thing down with Meowijuana.

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Righteous chronic dude.

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And while it definitely attracted him.. all he did was rub it until it fell over.

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He hugged it.

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He sat on it.

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He draped himself all over it. What the loopy bastard wouldn’t do was scratch it.

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One very happy tatter.

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15 minutes later? You be the judge.

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I’m going with stoned.

P.S. …. apologies for the silly voice overs. I tell myself not to do that, and then do it every time.

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When everything that can go wrong…. does.

60 Comments

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We got a phone call telling us the leather chairs we’d ordered for the man cave were ready for pickup. Erring on the side of caution, I suggested we take the husband’s old truck in for a check up before making the long trip. In typical man fashion he thought this was a ridiculous idea, got aggravated with me for impugning the integrity of his baby and told me to schedule the furniture pick up for Friday.

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You knew where this was going…. right? The truck started sputtering and jerking when we hit I-95, an hour after we left home. I suggested we turn around and go back, but no. The husband had the bright idea to get off the highway and ride the back roads down to New Hampshire. This added at least 2 hours to our 2 1/2 trip. When we finally limped in to Nashua… which has awful stop and go traffic and endless traffic lights on the main drag… the truck was stalling every time it idled. I suggested we pull off the road, but no. The husband could literally see the warehouse where our chairs were patiently waiting. He didn’t pull over… so at the final red light? The truck died. Totally and completely died. Smoke pouring out from under the doors died. Yours truly had to jump out and help the husband push it off the busy road into a parking lot. With my bad knee. In case you were wondering…. pushing an 8 foot bed pickup is not on the approved radial meniscus tear exercise list. Ouch! We called AAA and were told due to a tow truck driver shortage it would be a 3 hour wait. Ever sit in a hot truck for 3 hours waiting on a tow? I don’t recommend it. At 4:30 that afternoon…

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The tow truck came, loaded our vehicle on the flat bed and promptly told us due to Covid restrictions we couldn’t ride back to Maine with him … and oh yeah, our coverage was only good for 100 miles. So they’d have to charge us $5 per mile for the overage.

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We paid, the truck went back to Maine…. and there was really only one thing left for us to do.

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I drank. I fumed. I ate southwestern egg rolls. I drank some more.

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There may have been eye rolling. (Who am I kidding, there was definitely eye rolling. )

And then I called a friend. A good friend who jumped in his brand new truck and drove over 2 hours to pick us… and our leather chairs … up. Good thing the warehouse was open until 8:00pm.

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We took him out for dinner and drinks. We filled his giant gas tank. I slipped $100 bill in his center console.

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We arrived home after midnight.

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Not the best time to move furniture, but when do we ever do anything the easy way?

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Did I mention the barn door (the free door my husband got at the dump) is a non standard size? The chairs got stuck 4 times. There may have been cursing, but at that point I was too tired to care.

We rolled in to bed about 1:30am…. and I thought the bad luck was over.

I was wrong.

To be continued….

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