Diary of a SubUrban Housewife

test

ink
.
.
.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

.
.
.
.
..
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Cigar Anyone?

What Famous Leader Are You?

Not Really Shocking Results

OK, you know how I am about a good quiz. Usually with your results you get a clever little box with the html code. But with this one I didn't get the clever little box.

Anyway...my results on the "So Just How Kinky Is Your Sex Life" quiz: 515 (500 or more WOW! You're too damn kinky for most!!!)

Yours?

Roach Motel

A while ago my office suffered an infestation of cockroaches.

Following the infestation Zoe and Chuck (but mostly Zoe) took turns leaving a huge plastic cockroach leftover from Halloween around the house. (Sorry, the pic is a bit fuzzy)

I would be going about my daily duties and come upon it. The first few times it scared the shit out of me. Then I became immune. Finally, I got to the place where I saw the humor in it.

But that was back in August and September.

Well....now it’s January. Memories of the huge cockroach, and the infestation, have faded. Which clearly makes me a ripe target or further cockroach hijinks.

So tonight I am preparing dinner. Salad is made and set aside on the counter, next to the sink. Potatoes are baking away. Steaks are finishing off in the oven, timed perfectly to be finished cooking with the potatoes. I’m a dinner diva (when I actually deign to cook a meal).

I turn from the stove to go back to the sink. Out of the corner of my eye I see the salad. And I see something huge and brown in the salad.

Screaming ensued. Terror screaming. Following by the shrill scream of my daughter’s entire name (cuz you know you’re in trouble when your mother calls you by your first, middle, and last name) summoning her to the kitchen. Immediately.

But, my precious princess was on the potty and unable to heed my call. My husband heard the screaming and came running. We both met outside the bathroom door. He wanted to know what the “fuss” was all about. I told him.

This was his reaction:

My family are a bunch of comedians. Or at least they like to think so.

New Shoes

So, I’m driving to work this morning. I might point out that for a change I was on time. I was chatting away to my husband on the phone. I was telling him that I was going to try to get out of the office right after my construction meeting, which should be over at 2:30. I wanted to get my tires checked. I thought I needed new tires. He agreed. I would like to point out that I was traveling in the fast lane at about 65 miles and hour having this conversation.

About five minutes after I hang up the phone I hear this really nasty noise. As I hear the noise (still traveling at 65 I will remind you) the steering wheel really starts to shimmy and the car doesn’t feel quite right (to put it mildly). Hmmmmmm?????

I make my way over to the right lane. I would like to pull over to the shoulder to see what’s going on. I suspect I’ve had a blowout, but never having experienced one I wasn’t quite sure. But on the 134 Freeway the shoulder is only about four feet wide then there is a sharp drop-off into oblivion. Oooooh. Scary. And traffic is whizzing by at at least 65 miles per hour.

I slow down. The car stops shimmy-ing. I figure I’m OK for a little while at least. I merge onto the 5 South.

The 5 is a beautiful thing (in parts). Where I was there are five lanes in each direction and a very nice wide shoulder. To the right of the shoulder is at least another ten feet of unpaved area.

I pull my trusty Volvo over off the freeway to the far right of the shoulder, while still staying on the paved part, right by a call box (so I have some sort of landmark). I get out to see what’s going on.

Yup. Flat tire. Front left tire. Flat. As. A. Pancake.

I get out my cell phone. I call the office and tell them I’m going to be late (yeah, yeah, yeah, so what else is new). I dig through my wallet for my AAA card. I notice that the card expired December 15. Oopsie. Today is January 12. Well...I figure I’ll call them anyway and throw myself at their mercy if need be.

Well, it wasn’t necessary. We were still well within our “grace” period. I gave the attendant my location by the call box number. She knew exactly where I was and said a tow truck would be there within 20 minutes.

So, I’ve got 20 minutes to kill, coffee, ciggies, and a fully-charged cell phone. I’m stylin. I call the hub and give him and update. Call the office again for another update. I check my voicemail. It’s all good. If you don’t count the fact that cars are still whizzing past me at 65, because due to some freak of sig alerts, there was absolutely no traffic on my commute path this morning.

And I’m here to tell you, in Los Angeles, the shoulder is apparently considered to be extra pavement for some people who travel in the slow lane. Pay no attention to that solid white line motorists. Or the bright red Volvo with its hazard lights on. Just drive within six inches of my door. Not really a problem.

In less than the 20 minutes promised Eddie shows up to fix my flat. Eddie was at least 70 years old, had really bad body odor, reeked of last night’s beer, and had teeth that looked like he had never consulted with a dental professional. But, I have never been so glad to see someone in my entire life.

Eddie took my mini-spare out of the trunk. He checked the inflation on it (it needed air, which he provided from a handy little compressor in the back of his truck). He changed my tire. He put the bad one in the trunk.

So....I had a nasty blowout at 65 mph this morning. My uber safe car got me to a safe place to stop. I had my AAA card. I had a cell phone. It was daylight. Life is good.

And because that wasn’t all too much good luck in a really nasty situation, the very next exit off the freeway lead me right to a Costco, where I could get new tires.

And because the gods weren’t really smiling enough on me, I pulled into the parking lot. Since it was only about 9:30 I figured I will have to wait for the tire center to open at 10 with the store, but I notice that all the garage doors are open and people are walking in to the tire entrance. For some reason that still remains a mystery to me, the employees of the tire center decided to open early and were seeing customers.

I found the last four (yes, I needed four new tires it turns out) Z rated high-performance tires that they had. Yes, the lovely Volvita requires high performance tires. I flirted with the guy who took my order. He moved me to the front of the line. I was out of there in about 45 minutes.

OK, I was $425 poorer when I left, but I like to think of my lovely new tires as new shoes for my car. And who doesn’t love shoe shopping? So, my snappy red car got a new pair of Manolo’s. The girls on Sex And The City would be so pleased.

Squabble

Pholph's Scrabble Generator My Scrabble© Score is: 30. What is your score? Get it here.

Thanks to Michael and Michelle.

Now I've Seen Everything

This is hysterical.

Thanks Maggie.

Been Called Worse By Better

Your Stripper Name is Skylar Jade!

You're an experienced stripper at a typical club, with the stage name to prove it.
You haven't yet made it to the top end clubs in the big city...
But you certainly don't have to wipe down the mirror after you dance! You're seasoned at pole tricks and could win a gold medal - if pole dancing were an Olympic sport.
You love doing private dances for customers - as long as there's no touching and big tipping!
You've got the future of a $2000 a night feature dancer, Jenna Jameson style!

What's *Your* Stripper Name?
More Great Quizzes from Quiz Diva