Best eBay description ever, as found by the Porkchop on Pajiba.

Six kids? I don’t think so!

I just stumbled across something for my dad.

Something amazing.

Something he will adore.

The greatest present he will ever receive.

I give to you… Bacon Salt. 0 calories, kosher certified, vegetarian seasoning salt that makes everything taste like bacon (or so they say).

He will never be the same again.

A crazy guy decided to visit all 171 Starbucks in Manhattan in one day. And he had coffee had most of them.

It’s a very entertaining video.

So the house doesn’t smell like chicken, which is awesome.
The dog is back and passed out, I’m still a smidge itchy, but no longer on meds and we’ve both stopped using eighty tissues a day.

All positives.

On the flip side, all three animals are still shedding like it’s 1000 degrees, the inside of the oven is quite frightening and we appear to have the ant problem the landlord mentioned by the back door. Which irritates me on a very deep level.

And now my boss is IMing me, wanting to know if I’m available next week for an “outing.” (Not THAT kind perverts.) Some sort of all-office-outing.

Where, I say.

You’ll find out! I’ll mark that you’re coming.

How did I get sick two weeks before this “outing?”

For the past week, the Chop and I have been incredibly sick. So sick, in fact, that my bilirubin has risen and I’ve been scratching incessantly again. Lovely, no?

His sister was a bit sick when she was visiting (nowhere near how sick we’ve been), and since we work from home, we know she infected us with some sort of MidWest disease. Bitch. :p

Right now it’s Sunday. He’s been sick since Monday when she left and me since Tuesday. Wednesday I couldn’t even get out of bed and we’ve gone through a bottle of NyQuil, two of DayQuil and four boxes of tissues. Not to mention the large quantity of lovely Atarax itch meds I’ve consumed. It’s been a blast and a half.

The best part was yesterday, when I decided I felt a little better and thought, “I should turn on the self-cleaning oven. That way I’ve cleaned something today without actually having to move from the couch.”

It seemed like a brilliant plan.

Until our oven was belching smoke, the fire alarm was going off and we were tearing and hacking worse than before.

Apparently you should be sure to adequately clean the chicken grease that bubbled out of the pan when you were baking a chicken before you turn on the self clean. (I have all sorts of issues with this, firstly being, HELLO, it’s self-cleaning? Self-cleaning is selective? WTF? But I’m still sick and don’t have the capacity to bitch anymore.)

We turned off the clean, but the smoke managed to fill the house and now I’m almost sure that if you come in my house after not being here for awhile, there will be the subtle undertones of burnt chicken grease. Lovely, I’m sure. I can only hope that vast quantities of Febreze and candles will eventually make it go away.

I say eventually because we decided letting the house air out awhile while we dropped Reggie off at Daycare for an overnight (we have been quite lax with playtime and walks… what can I say, we’ve barely been able to move all week) was a good idea. Sadly, when we got back home after dropping her and making a pharmacy run for more tissues and DayQuil the odor was still quite apparent.

I can’t smell it now (honestly it’s amazing we could smell it at all, considering how plugged we are—I’m sure that just tells you how bad it is), but we’re bringing Reggie home later this evening, so I’m sure I’ll know it’s bad if she starts chewing on the furniture and chases after the cat’s tails thinking they are drumsticks.

Should be entertaining.

Note: when making banana bread (or anything sweet for that matter), pay attention when you set your ingredients on the counter.

And maybe don’t make baked goods when you’re tired.

Because Liquid Smoke instead of vanilla is not something you can take back.

Trust me. Your delicious treat will not be delicious, nor a treat.

And it’s very, very sad.

On Wednesday the Porkchop’s sister arrives, friend in tow, to spend a few days with us.

This meant, of course, that this weekend was comprised of lots of cleaning, a moderate amount of fretting and the moving of a futon. A large futon. A giant-mother-fucking-heavy-ass-futon that was too long for my Jeep but I insisted it was fine.

It was only six miles, after all, and on back roads. So the Chop and I loaded up our friend’s futon, and precariously drove home, the back door swinging open, the Chop holding the armrest to keep it in the car whilst simulataneously telling me that a) his arm was dislocating and b) why didn’t I tell him this was my plan?

To which I replied, “Well I told you it was seven feet long, what did you think I was going to do?”

I thought you had a plan!

“Dear, do I ever have a plan? This, this was my plan. We drive home with the back door open.”

THAT IS NOT A PLAN. If you’d have told me, I would have brought bungee cords.

“We don’t have any.”

We would have gone and purchased some.

“Eh, that’s too much work. See, we’re almost home, no problem!”

It was a fun morning. Now he’s passed out on the couch and I’m making banana bread. Party central over here. 😉

Recent article I came across.. Attention Shoppers! Student probes schism between Target, Wal-Mart

Yup, a college kid in Colorado wrote a paper on it for a class.

And let me tell you, it’s the exact. same. conclusion. that we all came to in November of ’05.

Target.. woohoo!
Walmart… gaaaaah.

Saturday began as a rather typical weekend day. Reggie woke us up around 9ish (rather, 7 first, then 9ish, and to be true, she woke up the Porkchop, then I wandered out about an hour later), we lazed about on the couch, debating which errands we had to run first and wondering if it was really going to get insanely hot again (it did, 89).

Then I spotted something on Reggie’s eyelid.. a tick. Woohoo, we though we’d gotten rid of those, she’s had her tick treatment, etc., but apparently the eyelid didn’t take much of the repellent.

Therefor the next thirty minutes or so involved wrestling a dog so that we could aim tweezers at her eyeball to pull off the tick and hope we got the head. Loads. of. fun. for. everyone.

After this joyous occasion, the Chop and I jumped in the car to go to the grocery store, and whilst backing out, he managed to hit a tree. Fortunately, this broke the tension of the tick situation and we busted out laughing. Unfortunately, his bumper is a little bit fucked up, lol.

Once we got home and unloaded groceries, we piled the mongrel in the car and headed to Petco… where she got her demon claws, aka nails, clipped. She stayed relatively calm through the process, despite the fact that the employee assigned to distract her took a personal call on her cell while holding the dog. Amazingly, the nails got clipped and she didn’t nip the idiot.

Reggie goes through rawhides like a competitive eater, so we started heading down aisles, picking up food, a new toy (which, despite it’s “for tough chewers.. won’t rip!” slogan, she managed to yank the stuffing out of in ten minutes) and rawhides when lo and behold, a freaking Rottweiler blocked the aisle. I, being (understandably) petrified, promptly dropped some cat food and debated fleeing. Reggie, being freakishly calm, sniffed the Rotty, who sniffed back, and made friends. Chop, being Chop, was just very pleased I didn’t bolt the other way.

Can I just say, though, that if a mother fucking huge ass dog, with a reputation for attacking, suddenly comes upon you and stands literally five feet away sniffing your dog who is half their size and whose head can fit in his massive jaws it’s scary? So scary, in fact, that you freeze in place and sincerely hope his owner and your boyfriend will save your dog because you have become a puddle of inability in five seconds?

Saturday was a long, long day.

NPR did a piece yesterday on All Things Considered about improving customer service calls… they also did one on advertising, which actually was my favorite piece, but that’s not the point. Anyway, the one on customer service calls caught my attention.

They ran a clip of a (simulated) actual customer service call (they do always warn you that it’s being taped) and what struck me was that you heard the customer talk while the music was playing. In other words, the CSR put her on hold, the music was playing, and you could HEAR her fuming about the situation.

Now this might not surprise most of you, but personally, I was shocked. They still tape you when they put you on hold?

First thought: my god, they must have acres of tape.

Second thought: oh my god, what the hell have I said when I thought I was on hold!

So any customer service call takers out there, tell me, is it true? Do all customers really tape us when we’re on hold?