A Perfectly Cursed Life

Because Blessings Are Overrated

Top Dawg October 17, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — Kimwithak @ 2:11 am
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The anniversary trip went off…well, better than expected but not without hitches.  For God’s sake, this is my life; if I did have an uneventful weekend I think I’d die of shock.  I can say that for 75% of the time we had an exceptional time.  15% of the remainding time we had a good time.  5% of the last remaining time was alright.  5% was bad…really bad.

I think it was an omen that the area of town where my family and I stayed when we were there thirteen years ago was completely razed and built again, save a few minor things.  It was like that part of the city made a fresh start, so maybe I could too.  For the first time in a long time, when we were on the Maid of the Mist, I closed my eyes and just let the wind and water fly in my face and absorb into my skin and my mind.  It was one of those few moments where you realize that things will be okay.  Or at least you fool yourself into thinking that things will be okay.  And really, isn’t that just as good?

The night of our actual anniversary was interesting.  We had reservations at one place, but we soon realized that while the view might be good, the food was likely to suck.  So we hopped in the car and drove somewhere else to have a great dinner and a great bottle of wine.  I should have known the wine would be too much for the both of us.

After dinner we arrived at an outdoor bar where there was karaoke.  For anyone who knows me, they know that karaoke is one of my favorite things in the whole world.  The next best thing to being a rock star, is being buzzed and pretending to be one.  Whether it was the many drinks I had (seriously, don’t ask), or whether I was just on that night, I was a total hit.  I was even getting requests from the 19 year old drunk kids from across the border in the U.S.  (For the record, the selection was not great and I did “Like a Virgin,” “Natural Woman,” “Proud Mary,” and “Golddigger.”  Yes, I can sing and rap…) In fact, that’s me performing my much loved rendition of “Like a Virgin” above.  I had to represent the D (Madge and Aretha) and full figured women (Aretha).

I was on top of the world and on a buzz.  At first I thought it was a joke, but these people genuinely liked me.  After a week of being beaten down by life and work, I needed that release–standing on a stage, belting out some of my favorite tunes, and just being embraced.  Hell, even TheMister started dancing a little towards the end.  That’s a total rarity.

But then reality set in.  The Mister was, in fact, wasted.  For him, wine before Canadian beer is a deadly combination.  We walked back to the hotel, me trying to get him to stand up straight and he, trying to kill my well-deserved buzz.  He kept asking me to take him to the hospital.  I refused…he was drunk, not sick.  He continued these loud requests until we were in the room and even for a period of time thereafter, where upon I had my most rockstar moment of the night–while The Mister was passed out on the floor and things were strewn about, the hotel management knocked on the door telling us that next time it would be the police.  The Mister eventually regurgitated his expensive dinner and I finally was able to go to bed.  In the morning we were both hung over and The Mister remembered nothing of the requests for the hospital or the hotel management.  At least he cleaned up his mess in the bathroom on his own.

Meanwhile, back in the mitten, Mom and Dad were watching Rocky the Dog on his first overnight stay without us.  Dropping him off before we left was hard.  I told The Mister I didn’t know if we were going to be able to have kids because leaving the dog at my parents was hard enough.  Poor Rocky was surrounded by Amy the Hound–a puppy of about six months or so.  Amy has more energy than a nuclear powerplant and you can’t see her when she’s moving, let alone catch her.  Rocky is an easy going, older gentleman.  I was worried that he wouldn’t be able to handle her.

Before we left though, it became abundantly clear–Rocky might not have been young or fast, but he was top dog.  Amy had already rolled over once to show her submission and Rocky barked at her in response.  According to Mom and Dad, the dominance continued, amidst Amy’s constant pestering, all weekend.  Rocky stood his ground and when Amy got too tough, he taught her that experience has a little bit on age.

When we picked Rocky up on Monday, we drove home in near silence.  The dog was asleep and The Mister and I were hung over (and in my case majorly PMSing in addition).  When we got home, Rocky picked a spot and laid there not moving for probably 12 hours.

I guess it turns out that every dog has his day.  Rocky was top dog over Amy and I was top dog at kareoke.  But in the end, being on top only lasts for so long.  Sometimes you need someone to knock on the door and remind you that you’re a bit out of control to take a break and rest awhile.

I’m still waiting for my rest.  Rocky, on the other hand, is ready for another battle of wits and stamina.  And maybe a few more of Grandma’s many rawhide treats.


She Just Wants to Eat October 1, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — Kimwithak @ 2:12 am
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Don’t torture a hungry and overworked woman.  That should go without saying, but apparently the lady at KFC tonight didn’t get it. The lack of substantive posts here lately has been due to a crazy amount of work.  It’s not a bad thing–I chose to become a lawyer, and a lawyer I am.  I am a lawyer with a lot of work these past few weeks (and for the forseeable future).  It’s a good thing, actually.

But at 9:00 p.m. on a Tuesday when I haven’t eaten anything in at least five hours and no real meal since this morning, do not test me.  DO. NOT. TEST. ME.

I pull up to KFC, dying for something fried.  I felt bad enough doing it as Rocky was waiting at home, I’m sure, with his legs crossed.  I pull up…

“Do you want to try one of our new bowls of [whatever they’re selling in a bowl this week]?” the box says.

Ignoring the perfunctory prompt to order their mess of the week, I respond, “I’ll take the number 8.”

“We’re out of chicken for *inaudible* meal,” the box replies.

“Well, what kind of chicken do you have?” This is ridiculous.  I’m not asking for anything special.

“We’re out of chicken for *inaudible inaudible*.”

“Um…okay….so, again, what kind of chicken do you have?”  This beyond ridiculous.

“We won’t have chicken for four minutes.”

“Oh, okay.  That’s fine.” I figure by time I pay and drive up, I’ll have one more minute to wait.

“Okay….”  It takes an additional 60 seconds longer than I thought it would to finish my order.  Great, I’m shaving down that 4 minutes easily.

I pull up to the window.

“Can I add one of those Boston Creme Pie things in a cup?”


“You know…it’s chocolate and graham crackers and such.”

“A parfait?”

“Sure a parfait.”

At this point, the smells of KFC are making me nervous.

“We have chocolate and strawberry and …”


“Okay.”  He adds it into the total.  “That’ll be $8.77.”

I hand him my card.

“Wait…let me make sure we have the chicken.”

What?  I thought we just went through this. He turns around and walks away momentarily and then returns.

“We won’t have Original for 14 more minutes.”


“We have extra crispy.” Ugh.

Gross. For the record, I don’t like extra crispy…it blows.  But it was better than no dinner.

“Fine…fine…just give me extra crispy.”  I’m now starting to shake and salivate.  Part of it is mental, but I do have an issue with my insulin and blood sugar and I need to eat regularly…something I didn’t do today.

Some manager type woman comes to the window.  “We have two thighs and a leg.”

“Fine.”  It’s almost as if I’m chanting a mantra.

“She ordered two legs and a thigh,” the original kid adds.

“It’s fine.  Just give me what you got.” I’m pretty sure I was hallucinating this.

“Well, we have two thighs and a broken leg,” the manager type adds.

“Fine….that’s fine.”  I’m going to eat the leg, not use it to run a marathon.

“I won’t have the rest of the chicken for another 18 minutes.”  Clearly, we’re not discussing the same meal.  Not to mention that the time should have gone down and not up, but I didn’t question this.  I didn’t have time.

“She said she doesn’t care–SHE JUST WANTS TO EAT,” the kid-who-couldn’t-figure-out-what-flavor-parfait-I-wanted adds, ever so astutely.

“Okay,” the manager acquiesces.

About sixty seconds later, the kid comes to the window with a bag…my parfait inside with my meal.

“Here you go.”  He smiles as if he’s done me a big favor.


“We added in a wing for you.”  Ah, the favor is revealed.

I should have been grateful.  But at this point, I wondered why in the hell they were able to throw in an extra wing without even blinking, but getting me my meal was the cause of great distress.  I’m lucky I made it home without pulling over and ripping the bag open.  To be honest, it was the thought of poor Rocky at the door, whining and waiting to go out that kept me intact.

I get home, open the door, and Rocky is already on the landing, pushing me out of the way to get out.  I then look in the kitchen. Apparently TheMister had Wendys.  So did the dog…or at least what TheMister left.

I see we all got our fill of fast food today.


Update: Grievances of Love September 9, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — Kimwithak @ 8:36 pm
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Although I can’t say for sure, I believe Rocky the Dog and I have settled our grievances.  His balls were out from underneath the couch and I gave him canned food.  Though I’m pretty sure he blamed me for the rain yesterday.

I did strike a deal with The Mister that if I agreed to record the Sarah Connor Chronicles, our grievances would be settled.  Well, guess who forgot to go downstairs and set the DVR?  I was informed by late-night wake up (TheMister works afternoons) that I had failed my task and that the deal was off.

I can’t win for losing.


Grievances of Love September 8, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — Kimwithak @ 5:46 pm
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I received the following e-mail this afternoon from The Mister:

Grievances filed against *SamGrace* by *The Mister*

  1. Left clothing on bathroom floor
  2. Left soaking wet bag of cat shit and slurpee cup 2 feet from the garbage cans

Grievances filed against *Sam Grace* by *Rocky The Dog*

  1. Left box of books in my sleeping quarters
  2. shoved my balls under the couch

Failure to rectify such grievances will result in a swift kick in the ass.

I responded with the following:

Responses to grievances filed against *SamGrace* by *The Mister*:
1.  Sorry.  I will rectify.
2.  I couldn’t freaking see and I had no shoes on.  I couldn’t get to the GD garbage cans.  The bag wasn’t wet at the time.

Responses to grievances filed against *SamGrace* by *Rocky the Dog*
1.  If *The Mister* had moved his books where they belong, that wouldn’t have been an issue.
2.  I did not shove any balls under any couch. I’m very sensitive to the needs of balls.  I was looking for Rocky’s balls yesterday.

This, more than anything, reminded me of why I married this man.