Archive for May, 2012

Published by PaintingChef on 17 May 2012

On living in the boonies, why deodorant trumps chicken and how the man with no pants drove me to breakfast drinking.

There are a few things about myself that I have finally learned to just admit…

First of all? I live in the boonies. On purpose. Yes me. The girl who dreamed of brownstone apartments within walking distance of everything and no need to ever own a car (which probably had something to do with me wrecking 4 of them in quick succession). I totally blame Barefoot in the Park. My ass would be so much smaller if I had to walk up all those steps every day.

But I don’t live in the city. Or really even A city. I live way out the end of a ridiculously curvy road and the directions to my house include the phrase “Turn right after the mental institution”.

Additionally? I’m lazy. I do thing like shower at night so that I can sleep an extra 45 minutes in the morning. I am always running late because if the question is of me rolling around in bed or getting up and organizing myself to make the rest of the day run smooth, well…. IMMA BE ROLLIN’. This leads to me frequently forgetting to set something out of the freezer for dinner because those thirty seconds are dedicated to putting on deodorant instead. Deodorant always trumps chicken.

But the 3 times a week that I walk into Patrick’s office around 4:00 and sit down with a heavy sigh and ask him what I want for dinner can wear on a man and I think he is, in clinical terms… OVER IT. Because have you ever run into the grocery store (THAT IS NOWHERE NEAR YOUR HOUSE BECAUSE YOU LIVE IN THE BOONIES) to pick up one thing for dinner and walked out thirty fifty bucks lighter? I have. And still I manage to only buy dinner for one night and like… some cheese.

(What’s for dinner? CHEESE, MOTHERFUCKER.)

This happens to me every summer. I do so well all winter making soups and breads and roasts and delicious things but then it becomes summer and all I want is a popsicle and some wine and Patrick is all “I need protein” and I’m like “Here’s some bacon, sorry it’s frozen” and then we just have some pudding instead.

Last year we got a Dollar General close to our house. Like DIRECTLY on the way home and I cannot tell a lie… I spent close to an hour one day learning just what the Dollar General carried in those measly 3 grocery aisles just so that I would know what I was dealing with if it ever came to that and what I discovered is that while the options are varied, it kind of all boils down to macaroni and cheese or tacos.

REGARDLESS… Dollar General. And I was excited because when I run out of toilet paper I have an option other than stealing a roll from the wine store…

(Also? There is a wine store. And they knew my name approximately 4 hours after we moved in. It only took that long because there was a shift change.)

(Also again? I never stole toilet paper from the wine store. They were down to their last roll and we aren’t on Survivor here… I went to the gas station and paid $12 for a four pack like everyone else in that situation)

And until this morning, the route to my house also took you by this…

I’m sorry… you can’t read that? Well it says “I’M FREE! Just waiting on my next big job.” And it was there until this morning because as I drove past it, I saw three guys loading it up into a truck. Two of them had beers. The third was eating chicken wings. And between them, they were wearing one pair of pants.

I laughed until I realized that this means the man in no pants eating chicken wings while loading a free toilet into a truck at 8 AM at least has a wife who feeds him protein.

I went to the wine store for breakfast.

Published by PaintingChef on 15 May 2012

Like a virtual post it note

I swear… I’ve been writing something for like 4 days now. Life is whipping my ass. I am going to Mexico in less than a month and I will be spending an entire blissful week on the beach while a cabana boy brings me fruity beverages. I decided to let Patrick go too… because I’m not an asshole. I bet you didn’t know that about me.

But seriously… there was a toilet on the side of the road and it made me have to tell you a story about where I live. I’m working on that shit but then my dad keeps asking me to do my job. And then Patrick does the same thing and I reconsider my generous gesture of allowing him to go to Mexico with me.

The travel agent told me I would not be decapitated by a drug cartel while I was there. I’m holding her to that.