My Day

Ow! My Ass!

A couple of days ago, I did an intense lower body workout. AT THE GYM, perverts. And now, I am SO SO SORE! (It's pronounced "SO-RRY" in this case.) I never realized how many things my ass does for me on a daily basis, like sitting, and standing, lying down, brushing my teeth, opening the mail. Everything. Turns out that I use my ass for everything, so when it's sorry, I am too.

And I haven't even mentioned the gas.

The GAS! Oh My God!

No, it's not a joke. The Casita actually smelled like natural gas this morning when I woke up, and I had a headache and I was, like, hmmmm. I wonder if this is dangerous. Dave checked all the pilot lights and turned the gas to the gas heater off and we ran the fan and opened the doors. After a while, the sulfur-y smell was gone (it took my headache a few hours to go away), and it hasn't come back (neither the sulfur-y smell or the headache), so, hmmm. Just one of those natural gas mysteries you hear about.

This Is How Much I Hate Mail

I almost never open mail. No kidding. Today I attacked the enormous pile of mail that is the result of neither Dave nor I ever opening mail. There were bank statements and bills from last March in there. (Everything gets tracked and paid online.) I must have torn up a hundred of those checks that credit card companies send you trying to get you to write yourself several thousands of dollars more into debt than you likely already are. I also found two car insurance proof of thingies in there. Oh, and a handful of voter registration cards that were the result of each of us having to fill out about five voter registration forms before the last election because the clusterfuck of a county clerk's official in our city couldn't get organized.

I filled an entire grocery bag with the detritus of the mail opening spree--envelopes, those torn up checks, the crap that credit card companies put in the envelopes besides the bills (what's that about anyway?), offers for more credit cards, everything. I put all that junk in a garbage bag and poured some old spaghetti sauce and nuoc mam in there (so I'm paranoid about people rooting around in the garbage and finding my financial information) and carried it out to the trash bin.

Then I filed everything that needed to be filed and that was that.

While I did that, I watched Margaret Cho's stand-up routine on Netflix. She's hilarious. I love La Cho.

"You know, you don't have to be a woman to be a feminist. You should just fucking be a feminist. Really....It's weird when women aren't feminists, like Ann Coulter. I am such a feminist and then I see her, and I'm, like, that's why women shouldn't work."--Margaret Cho