Friday, November 25, 2005

Black Friday

Everyone who has a house needs to clean it now and then, and by house I mean place to live. Sure, Donald Trump doesn't have to take his dishes to the kitchen after dinner, but you think Milania doesn't insist he be a sweetie and wipe the seatie? Bitch, please!

Ok so I, as a mother of two children often have to clean my house. One time I tried to get the children to help but they acted like dirty little urchin-extras from the chorus of "Oliver!". No lie. They even did a medley of "Food, Glorious Food" until I begged for mercy.


I was cleaning my house today. First I did the bathrooms and burned all my nosehairs out with bleach fumes (beauty tip: nosehair getting unruly? try bleach fumes! and I'm talking to you, Andy Rooney). Then I played a $1 MTT (That's Multi-Table Tournament for you PTA Ladies) and I finished 65th - thanks AQ (Dear AQ, I am starting to rethink our relationship. I feel I can't trust you to deliver the sweet chips of my opponents as I once thought you could. I will still play you aggressively, but will be mindful that you can be quite a bitch. love, facty)

Where was I? Oh yes...

After the bleach burns and the MTT, I decided to vacuum the upstairs. So I did. I vacuumed and vacuumed and vacuumed. Then I took the wand and started to vacuum the dust bunnies under the bed. I had to lay down on the floor so I could see what I was vacuuming and something caught my eye. Under the bed just barely out of my reach was some paper... a book? a magazine? hmmm I scooted and reached with the wand as far as I could.... a little closer...a little closer...


suddenly my head was yanked brutally back and the vacuum made a sound between a whine and an evil cackle as my hair wrapped around its unforgiving roller. I yelped in pain and had to feel my way around to the side of the possessed machine to find the on/off switch - thank goodness it wasn't up by the handle or I'd be a goner. I flipped the switch and the vacuum of hell moaned and ceased. But my hair was still stuck. I gently worked my hair out of the groaning maw and sat up to survey the damage. Head: still there. Hair: Mostly still there. Vacuum: laughing at me with a huge clump of my red hair in its teeth. The overworked motor had stunk up the room and as I kicked the vacuum I vowed never to let this happen again.

So I'm gettin a maid y'all. All professional poker players should have maids.

Epilogue: The paper under the bed was an old Linux Journal. And that is how Linus Torvalds and my geek husband ruined my hair.

the end


phlyersphan said...

LOL love the pic :) I was going to say, "Sweet! You read LJ too??" until I got to the husband part... ha! I share your recent disenchantment with AQ. She's been kicking my ass lately. Right now, she's on my list of those I'd kick outta bed for eating crackers.

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Linux very bad.

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