Painting Chef - Cheaper Than Therapy

“Hey, I’m going to go across the street and help Robby cut down a tree.”

“Really? Isn’t that one of those things that you’re supposed to hire people to do?”

“What? The same imaginary elf people that you think we should hire to clean the house?”

“YES! THEM! THOSE PEOPLE! They cut down trees and then they clean them up and then make your whole house smell like gumdrops and unicorns. We should totally call those people!”

“Okay, well, no. I’ll be back.”

“Well can I come and watch?”

“No, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

Well, of course I went and watched and of course he was right.

“Sweetie…”

“A little busy right now Susannah, what do you want?”

“Well, um…is that tree you’re in the very same one that you’re trying to cut down…?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, are you going to come down out of the tree before you cut it down?”

“Are we REALLY going to have this conversation right now?”

“So…that’s a yes…?”

“…”

And then later…

“Sweetie…?”

“…”

“Why are you holding the tree on a leash?”

“…”

I love him but one day he may kill me…and I don’t know if I’d blame him…

I have a dirty little secret. And being that you people already know WAY more about me that those who see me on a regular basis, perhaps even more than members of my own family, I figured what the hell…why not let a little more hang out there.

I have a secret internet addiction. I have recently rearranged my desk so that I can turn my computer away from passers-by in order to hide my guilty pleasure. I scour topic specific websites, the more pictures the better and video nearly puts me into seizures of pleasure, I am an addict and I cannot stop. And once I find just the right site I find myself thrown into fantasies about myself in these pictures. Just what I would be doing, where would Patrick be, what our lives would be like… Who else would be there, what would they be doing, wearing, saying?

Sometimes I’ll send Patrick a quick email sharing something that I’ve found with him because he too, shares my sick addiction. Sometimes when we REALLY need a fix, we’ll go seek it out IN PERSON on a weekend. Hoping that nobody recognizes us as what we really are…interlopers into another world. Praying that we can, at least for a moment, blend into the scenery and spend a precious few hours seeing what it is like to live someone else’s life.

Our addiction…house porn. Multi-million dollar homes that are completely out of our reach. Real estate websites, open houses, houses under construction…And it doesn’t matter where they are. One of my favorite websites lists houses on the west coast, mainly in Seattle, I’m so addicted that they even email me search results every week of new listings…nothing under a million dollars because I am a house porn snob. Another newsletter sends me breathtaking New York apartments, still another…historic homes in Charleston.

And when we get dressed up on weekends and go to the open houses, its almost too exhilarating to breath. I wander from room to room, usually focusing on kitchens and bathrooms because fabulous kitchens and bathrooms are the same as nirvana to me. I dream of miles of gleaming granite countertops, oversized stainless steel appliances, enormous steam showers and tubs big enough for a fishing boat the way some people dream of being movie stars or winning the lottery…

This is my addiction…

Georgia? Sweetie? Sugar-pie? Baby-love? Honey-child? And other non-appropriate celebrity pet names…

We need to talk. Now I realize that you are, in fact, Georgia. And I am fully aware that your educational system ranks about twelve zillion out of 50 so its understandable that some things are going to be a bit…shall we say…difficult to grasp and that if you did happen to lose your own asshole you’d be unable to find it with your own two hands and a flashlight and that you think Dubya is the second coming and that you prefer a shotgun to a burglar alarm. But come on now…

Yes, there is that interesting trend of spelling things a little wrong just to make it memorable. It’s a trend that I just can’t get behind. Even the cutesy little backwards “R” in Toys R Us makes my teeth itch. And regardless of how much I love the warm gooey instant orgasmy feeling that I get from hot fresh glazed doughnuts, I just cringe when I see Krispy Kreme. Some others…Scotch Gard, Kool-Aid, Rice Krispy Treats, Kwikee Mart, the list goes on and on.

Now here’s the thing, while truly fingernails on a chalkboard wretched, these names all, at the VERY least, bear some resemblance to what they are supposed to say. So when I saw your latest retail offering Georgia, I simply had to pull over to the side of the road and weep many many tears of anger, hurt, and betrayal. This. Is. Inexcusable. I don’t care how many little phonetic marks you add to make it easier for me, its just not working…you stupid fucking idiot…

The Movie Version: Our heroine, with her sharp mind and quick wit, keeps the rest of the group of people in the room entertained while simultaneously getting them to reach deep into their psyches and examine what is REALLY going on here. The people outside of the room were unprepared for her, they didn’t anticipate her, didn’t look past the cute outfit, fabulous shoes, and slightly messy hair. They thought she would be one they could easily manipulate. She paces around the room asking each person the same question once again, the question they’ve struggled with for days on end, they are all exhausted but she has shown them just how important their job is and so they press on; each thinking about what everyone else has said and considering what they have seen and heard. As she makes her way around the room it becomes clear that against all the odds they have come to a decision, one that they are confident in, one that they believe in and that will not haunt them night after night. NOT! GUILTY!

The Real Life Version: I was summoned for jury duty. I should probably learn to knit. Okay, that’s not TOTALLY accurate, I’m actually a little bit excited because I’ve never been called before and I suppose there is the outside chance of it being something exciting and even the smaller chance that I might actually get picked for something. Of course I have all these John Grisham and “The Runaway Jury” pictures in my head of people following me and taking pictures and breaking into my house and reading my website (excuse me surveillance people…hello? If you’re in my house could you please set the flank steak out of the freezer because I forgot to do that this morning and if you wouldn’t mind also just to do a quick sweep in the kitchen, thanks!) and I KNOW that’s absurd even if I did point out every helicopter that I saw this weekend to Patrick telling him that it was my tail and could he please make sure that he was out of the way so they could get a good picture of me because my right side is my better one thank you very much. I imagine that the reality is something much more akin to the hours upon hours I spent at the Social Security office waiting to change my name. Although this IS Georgia and I DO have all my teeth AND a college education…does that make me more or less likely to be picked to sit on a jury of someone’s peers…?

6:45…snooze

7:00…snooze

7:10…FUCK! Must get up N-O-W.

7:15…quick shower. WHY WHY WHY when I am NOT trying to wash my hair does it get wetter than if I just stuck my damn head under the shower and drenched it. Here I am, NOT having time to blow dry my hair and I’m going to have to do this shit anyway. This is SO not going to be a good day.

7:20…DRY! DRY!! DRY!!! WHAT is with this uncooperative hair? Screw it. It’s a ponytail day. You know, this time yesterday my hair was all straight and smooth. Fucking rain.

7:25…Desperately need to do laundry. None of favorite “I’m-running-late-for-work-so-I’ll-throw-this-on” outfits are clean. Shit. Check weather channel. SIXTY. EIGHT. DEGREES. Hello!? Excuse me?! Weather genie…yeah, you. Um, it’s JANUARY 23rd. As in W-I-N-T-E-R. Could you regulate this please?

7:30…Okay, so I forgot to get something for breakfast at the grocery store yesterday. I KNEW I was forgetting something. Oh, and apparently deodorant. Great, now I have to use Patrick’s and smell like a boy today. Fanfuckingtastic.

7:35…should have left five minutes ago…can’t find my other red boot. Okay, I haven’t worn these in like a year, how in the WORLD did one of them get under my bed. No time to figure out…LATE LATE LATE.

7:40…apparently not late enough to not wait in drive-thru line at bagel shop for coffee. Use valuable slow coffee making time to start makeup application so as not to scare any small children that may be out and about instead of in school where they belong. Delinquents.

7:45…coffee! Finally! Ouch, too hot to drink. Back to makeup up, oh, drive also…pull out…first gear, second…screw it, wait for red light, mascara is too treacherous, possible blindness and/or car accident is not worth it, it doesn’t help that much anyway.

7:50…Hello! Normally I hit every red light. Nothing but greens for miles and miles. Just one please, I NEED mascara. Well, at least I’m not as late as I thought I was going to be.

7:55…The road is strangely devoid of stupid people and bad drivers this morning. Wonder what’s up with… NEVERMIND. Hey! You! Mr. Swervy McSwerve. One lane per customer…mmmkay? And maybe if you put down that chicken biscuit and got with the program you’d notice that your coat was sticking out of the door. And what’s with the coat anyway you buffoon? It’s going to be SIXTY-EIGHT DEGREES today because god hates Augusta.

7:58… Almost. there. No mascara yet but that’s alright, I’m doing pretty good, fairly well put-together outfit, minimally burned tongue, mascara on the top of one eye and I think I have that thing on my chin covered up. Seriously? I’m almost 30. I’m worrying about wrinkles and I have a ZIT? Killing. Me.

8:04…Sit down. Breathe. Drink coffee. Check email. Contemplate purchasing helicopter and converting roof of office to landing pad to make for less stressful commute. Google helicopter landing pads in Augusta. Its not looking good…