Psychicgeek » Warrior Woman

Mah Drawahs

witchypoo — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 03:07:56 +0000

I may have mentioned that I brushed the dirt off the bathroom scales a while back and was surprised to discover that I had lost 25 pounds. You may have wondered “How the hell does that even happen?” to a woman who spends most of her days in pajamas. Because, clearly, elastic waistbands just beg for expansion of the waist. And really, who knows? Physio means more exercise, less pain=MUCH less wine to manage pain. Like none. Wine is strictly recreational now, as it should be.

So I got mildly giddy and got me some of those mid-rise jeans and a few tops to go with them, so I could have something non-elastic to wear outside the house on errands, and of late, on twitter meetups in my local area. Enough of the pajamas for me, yessir.

I was proud to be shopping and to forgo the purchase of pajamas, which has been my favourite article of clothing to buy. Working apparel. Business attire. Gotta look good on the phone, you know?

That plan pleased me.

Until.

I was in the kitchen in front of the fridge. This would be the kitchen with a bigass window, which was open to all the social goings on of the neighbours in the back yard. Can you see where this might be heading? No? I so suck at foreshadowing. Let me put you out of your misery.

My drawahs fell down to my ankles as I was standing there with my hands full of dinner ingredients. And my glorious, white bread, flat arse was exposed to all and sundry who were hanging out in the yard, or even possibly passing by on the sidewalk.

I mean, aren’t elastic waisted pajama bottoms supposed to be self-adjusting? I hadn’t given it much thought until the waistband FAIL.

The drawahs were stepped out of, laundered, and put aside with others I immediately drop tested. My awesomely warm polar fleece jammies with the periwinkle background and all the cute sleepy moons and stars on them. A goofy pair of red polar fleece with penguins. Warrior Woman agreed to give them a home. When she travels, her colleagues have these goofy pajama contests, and she thought these might qualify. She was really holding out for the jobbies with big honking frogs on a pink background, a pair that even makes me wince with the fugly.

So a few days ago, she accompanied me on my quest for polar fleece jammies THAT WOULD NOT FALL DOWN EXPOSING MY BARE ARSE. And lo, it was good, for I bought many pairs.

And I presented Warrior Woman with the freshly laundered fugly green frog jammies, because, oh, how she coveted them in the work fugly jammie competition.

I caught her hints for my green, red, and white HOHOHO jammies, but I’m holding out on those bad boys. They have the drawstring type waist. Totally adjustable.

Back away from the HOHOS, beetch.

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Mah Drawahs

The Notebook

witchypoo — Thu, 19 Mar 2009 18:01:54 +0000

Inspiration. It comes to me from yarning while ~~guzzling~~ delicately sipping on a lovely red wine with friends. I keep a notebook beside me to jot blog post ideas on it.

Note the elegant wine stains. I’m all about the class.

I print the really good ones so I can read them the next day. My handwriting? Not so easy to decipher. Most of these ideas came from stories I told Warrior Woman. Oh, how we laughed at the time!

I just noticed that none of them are about poop or even farts. Well, technically, pussyfarts are about farts. They just aren’t the first thing you think of when you think of farts.

I sometimes wonder if I’m actually an 8 year old boy child. Heh.

Anything there you want to read about?

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The Notebook

Supper At My Place

witchypoo — Tue, 16 Dec 2008 15:32:13 +0000

What did I have for supper Sunday evening?

Strawberry Twizzlers.

They’re cheap, very filling, and require no cooking.

I’m kind of in a twizzler blogging mode.

Even a visit from Warrior Woman (bearing wine) elicited no bloggable stories this time. Or maybe the wine made me forget them.

After a few hours, I felt guilty that I hadn’t fed her. (She brought wine, people!) so called for takeout from a nearby establishment.

That was the extent of my cooking ambition.

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Supper At My Place

Pimping

witchypoo — Mon, 13 Oct 2008 15:13:41 +0000

You may have noticed that I have a new header. Although it isn’t really chilly here yet, I asked Summer to design me one for fall. I like it a lot. I hope you do, too, as I expect it will be shown next fall as well.
I have also started the pimping campaign for the Psychic Power Network, where I faithfully log on most days from 11 am to 11 pm Eastern time. I am including an image link at the bottom of each post, along with my Dial-in ID. First time callers get 5 minutes for only 99¢, but I get paid my regular price for it. I really need to build my client base there so that there is not so much dead air time between callers. So, if you’ve been wanting a reading, but not the full meal deal, this is a little snack-sized tidbit to see if I’m any good or not.
I got some new-to-me furniture for the living room, and it was infused with a chemical smell that a week near the windows and a bathing in vinegar and water did not dispel. I paid $40 to have it delivered, but had to write it off. Good thing that the room is huge, because it held at one time two sofas, three loveseats and an easy chair. Now it’s down to the more manageable one sofa, one easy chair and one love seat. Warrior Woman has new furniture now.
Ass Burger Boy was moved to actually clean his room. This would be because he saw a mouse cavorting and dropping deadly turds in his room. I counted 6 garbage bags full of unwanted stuff, and he washed every article of clothing he had. Some of them were wool, and they shrunk. Less stuff to put away. Heh. He has a hard time getting rid of stuff. People, I actually saw his floor. It was a special moment, although he preferred to send me pictures of it rather than have me actually go in his room and look at his actual floor. Dillweed. I well remember his sense of entitlement in accessing my room, especially one summer when I was naked in front of a fan. But I musn’t go in his room.
I won’t be logging on today because I’m having a meal cooked for me by Warrior Woman. Thanksgiving was supposed to be yesterday, but ABB decided to stay after church for a baptism. He had his own feast at the reception. He should be thankful I let him live. I had already determined I wasn’t going to get all wired up for holidays anymore. Last Christmas, he had dinner with his priest and his family. I only cooked a ham. And mighty glad of it too. He would have been wearing a freaking turkey if I had cooked one.
Andy Bailey won the Wordpress MU plugin contest! He will distribute the prize in a contest of his own, so be sure to register your site at CommentLuv dot com. If you are registered, and have your feedburner URL in your header, people can see where you have clicked, and what your latest posts are. Also, your gravatar will show up, if you have an email address that matches your gravatar email.
This is the last month to vote for me in the Blogger’s Choice Awards. I don’t know why I want to win this, but I do. They have thrown a wrench in the works by not showing the actual number of votes for the top three, and rotating the top three as well. I have no clue how many votes I have, but you can add yours to the mix. We find out the results at the end of November, and voting is closed at the end of October. Vote. Please. For me.
Whew.

Click the image for the Psychic Power Network

Ask For GRACIE_ (Dial-in ID#51650)

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Pimping

Chip Mittens

witchypoo — Tue, 30 Sep 2008 14:37:58 +0000

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.

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Chip Mittens