You remember shit mittens, don’t you? Yeah, me too.

Shortly after posting that, Warrior Woman was enjoying my cooking, lubricated with a bottle of wine she brought over, when I spied a good-sized spider on my ficus tree.

In the past, I had gently escorted spiders out of my house. That was before I encountered the swift and nasty bite of the recluse spider that had taken up residence here.

I knew it wasn’t a recluse in my ficus, but I approached it with a murderous glint in my eye. All in house spiders now have a death sentence on their heads. Don’t be hatin. Warrior Woman is wicked afeared of spiders, so she did not object. Not even a little.

I also spied two empty potato chip bags, just minding their bidness in my wastebasket. I did a mini dumpster dive and emerged with one on each hand.

Thus was born chip mittens. With a clap of my hands, I dispatched the critter, and Warrior Woman breathed easier as I escorted the remains outside.

There are lots of contests going on right now. If you want in on some, why, just go visit these sites.

I followed a commenter to this site, and lo and behold there was an ipod shuffle up for grabs. I’ll comment after publishing this post.

And then there is Laura of I am the Diva. I wuv her. She is giving away a Zunes player. That’s like an ipod for PC users.

For those who are more into handbags than tunes, there is a fabulous launch of planet handbag, where they are giving away 24 bags in 24 hours on October 15.

See? I take away life from an innocent creature, but I’m still all about the giving. Chip mittens.

Hurricane Kyle came and it went. Five years to the day that Hurricane Juan made a direct hit here. Tell ya what. Don’t plan any outdoor weddings here for Sept 28th. A lot of leaves down, but very few branches. The leaves haven’t changed colour here yet. That always scares me when a hurricane is heading our way. The fully leafed trees act as sails, and are easily uprooted in strong sustained winds.Luckily, this was only a category one, and it made landfall a few hundred clicks away.

All in all, I would say compared to Krissa, who took in various pets, including a six foot boa during Ike, Kyle was pretty much a preparation event, with none of the damage locally. She was without electricity and phone for about a week. No A/C. In Texas. And snakes. Snakes. Go read, it’s fascinating.

There was none of that traumatizing howling, and breaking of windows with this storm. I behaved much better this time. Heh. No week without electricity, prompting us to bring our meat to neighbourhood barbeques or lose it. I bought a bottle of wine in case there was a hurricane party. And food you don’t have to cook or refridgerate. (Read: Munchies-party food!) I also made giant pots of pasta with chicken, and one with hamburger, both loaded with veg and different sauces. Stuff you can eat cold. And an extra pot of coffee. I can drink it cold. People always want iced coffee in summer. Danged if I wanted to get my caffeine in the form of a warm pepsi at twice the usual price.

Guess who won’t be cooking tonight?

My neice, Wild Child, gave birth early to her twin boys. You know, the ones that I Photoshopped tiaras onto?

And yesterday? Memarie Lane went into labour, and live blogged the event. Whew!

I take my hat off to both of them.

And? I take my furniture inside in honour of Hurricane Kyle, which is fast approaching hereabouts. It’s supposed to make landfall this evening. So there is battening down of the hatches, putting the frozen meat in the big freezer, checking batteries, candles, storm windows, and supplies. I hope we don’t lose power, but if we do, there will be no phone or internet.

Another Hurricane guy, Coast Rat, who left his home up north a few years ago to help rebuild after Hurricane Katrina has since had to hang onto his hat for Hurricane Gustav. (It must be discouraging to get damage on top of the damage you are trying to clean up.)

He is a photographer with an amazing eye, and I so enjoy his images and stories. He told me I could help myself to them for my puzzles, and so I present to you, quite a treat.

Create your own puzzles at PuzzleBee.com!

I so truly enjoyed the comments from this post! Your razor-sharp wit cheered me up so much, that I am going to devote the Peep Award to this post only. Thank you all so much!

And? I settled some of the anxiety by deciding to work at night, when wives were around to supervise errant husbands. There are also more calls at night, but I have had to restructure my hours somewhat. It just means I go to bed later, and wake up later. My blogging routine is off a bit, but hopefully, I will adjust.

From Anxiety

Marie in Maine gives us hers:

:::makes clattering noise::: “Excuse me, Mr. Wanker, I dropped my magnifying glass! Now, go on. Tell me, when was the first time you noticed you had erectile dysfunction? You say you never had ED? Well, I’m sorry to tell you this, but I see nothing but softies in your future. Hello? Hello?”

Knudsey slyly retorts:

It would have been an easy reading, ” you have all the tools at hand for a satisfying out cum, expect good things soon.”

The Over Thinker has her own remedy:

Man, that’s just not cool. Is there another hot line that would be better to work for? I don’t know much about it, but I’d guess some would have more respectable clientele than another–or maybe I’m way off. If you get another one like him again, would it be apropos to say, “I sense you have a small penis. I sense your mother and your dog are the only 2 that know it.”??

Warrior Woman,never at a loss for a quick comeback:

Cum here and whisper in my ear, spank me spank me and charge me lots. I’m a bad boy, yes I am, yes I am…. I want to feel you, I want to make you feel good. I want to come to your house and chase you around naked, I want to be your biggest scariest nightmare, I wanna be your bad baaaaaad boy………. SEE I COULD DO THIS PSYCHIC HOTLINE THINGIE TOO!!!

Theresa thinks the good thoughts:

w. My neighbour used to wank in his backyard all the time when I was a little girl. I think that qualifies as sex abuse. I really really HATE wankers. I hope you don’t get anymore. I shall think wank-free thoughts for you.

Memarie Lane offers advice:

You should post a picture of my grandma. I’ll bet you can imagine the kind of calls we used to get at the colonic place.

And the winnah is…

Karen

I used to be a telephone operator, and every full moon we got the weirdo’s and sicko’s calling in. There was this one guy who would call all the time and ask us “what color are your panties?” One girl told him, white with brown spots!” hahahah

My first caller on the psychic hotline was a leetle strange.

Let’s just say he was somewhat “self-absorbed”, in a physical way.

And by that, I mean he wasn’t performing his marital duties. His duties were performed as a onesome.

It’s got me rethinking posting my image on the site. I wondered why so many readers used avatars or icons. The owner of the hotline said it was beneficial to use a real image, that people could relate better to it.

I’m thinking she didn’t have wankers in mind.

And? How smart is it to call a psychic hot line, which is cheaper than the sex lines, and no sex lines show up on your credit card bill?

Anyway, now I have waves of anxiety every time I log in.

And then I think of the financial hole I’m in from the tour, and get more waves of anxiety. I’d be biting my nails if it weren’t so disgusting.

Then, last night, Ass Burger Boy announced that he has given his computer away. I started to cry.

So, posting? Pretty much off my radar right now.

Sorry.