Doin’ the Cockroach

15 May

I woke up this morning to a giant cockroach crawling across me AS I LAY IN BED.

I totally lost my shit. So gross. I leapt up and pulled all the bedding up with me, threw it on the floor and did a stomping dance that made the punk rocker in me proud. Things were knocked off of the bedside table, the remote was thrown across the room- I was like one step away from tossing a TV through a window just for the hell of it, because I already felt like a Pink Floyd video.

After my tantrum I systematically looked through my sheets to make sure the thing was dead.

So I need the Ghostbusters to come and watch me when I’m asleep and an exterminator to basically blow up every cockroach on my block. Why can’t my bats eat cockroaches? Nature is crazy.

It gives me the heebie jeebies just thinking about that thing. I’m just going to go see Modest Mouse and try to forget.

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Owl the Pretty Things

25 Apr

I have spent much of this morning cleaning the tiny skeleton of a field mouse. Because there is an owl. And lots of tiny mammal carnage. I’ve been cleaning a skull and mandible of a good sized little mouse, but there are birds and rabbits and lizard bones out there too. Owls are seriously bad ass. They swallow an animal whole, crunch it up with their rock star bellies, and barf out a pellet that is just a reduced ball of bones and fur. Like a compactor.

So there are bones scattered everywhere underneath this grainery tube attached to an old warehouse. We climbed up there to figure out where the nest was (there was one lone owl feather as our clue) and look around at all the cool stuff that he has left scattered around. Including- but not limited to- the mouse skull with a leg bone sticking through it. Which I picked up and carried back to my office.

That’s right. I walked around with owl poop and mouse bits in my hand this morning.

I regret nothing.

 

2 for 2

28 Mar

They come in packs of two.

Spanks, or the knock off brand. Whatever. We all know what I’m talking about. The belly crushing underwear that makes your ass look amazingly artificial and your intestines constrict.

One fun consequence: they will make you poop your pants. Just saying. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow- but soon. And it’s something you may remember for the rest of your life.

Let me paint you a picture. Set the scene if you will. So here I am, just moved back to town, broke, tired, starting school again and working a new job. I go out on this date- a first date. We go to this brewery with awesome southern food and everything is going well. Kinda. Mid fried okra I start to get the rumble. You know. The rumble. And as the rumble sets in the date launches off on this intense story that he’s all into and pantomiming and I’m attempting to discretely back away and try to politely excuse myself to the bathroom.

He won’t just SHUT UP!!

I’m like starting to sweat. I don’t want to be rude, but these tummy tuckers are seriously about to make me shit myself. I back away attempting to excuse myself and he just leans in closer to give his story more intensity.

Then the situation gets real. I tell him I’ll be right back, run to the restroom, drop some mad heat, and wish I didn’t exist. Underwear in the trash, I return, tail between my legs so to speak.

Funny, he actually asked me out on a second date after that. QUESTIONABLE.

What’s worse is I didn’t even learn my lesson. Because they come in packs of twos. And I still had another pair. Months go by and my memory fades and… I wore the fuckers again. And again, it crushed all of my organs into a tiny little ball and again, I pooped my pants. Well, sundress the second time.

Moral of the story?

Don’t wear underwear.

If the Genes fit

27 Mar

So I got my DNA results back, y’all. I got a DNA test kit for Christmas to look at what makes me me. As it turns out…I’m white. Super duper white.

AncestryDNAStory-Lindsay-270318

So I’m basically just walking skin cancer.

Le sigh. No Dino DNA, no Albino Mongolian, not even a little bit Ninja Turtle. Just white.

dna

 

 

I have the good toilet paper

7 Feb

I’ve turned into an old lady since slightly before my 5th 29th birthday. I’m even crankier in the mornings, I need even more sleep, I have a bedtime now, I’m stuck in my routines which makes having houseguests a unique form of torture for me, I can’t drink white wine after dinner and I carry antacids in my purse. As I grow older, one of my best friends has decided she would rather be 22 again for some reason.

One night, late at night *eyeroll* – it was like 9pm – she called and told me we were going out ‘dancing’. Now, this is Albuquerque on a school night, there is nowhere to go out dancing and if you pretend to you end up in some total amateur shit hole questioning your life decisions and wondering how humanity could have failed us so colossally.

I considered my sweatpants, my pizza bagels, and the fancy toilet paper I had just bought. I thought about pillows and snuggling Frank and warm running water.

Instead of saying anything coherent or normal I answered “No, I don’t know what kind of toilet paper they are going to have.”

This is what my life has become.

Mi quinto 29

28 Jan

Things I would like for my birthday:

A haircut and my nails done
Massage
Flowers
Bowling
Candy
An electric drill
A robot
A garden in the backyard
Peace of mind
Some focus
Comic books
A trip to Maine
Karaoke
Someone to tile my bathroom for me
A vacation
Champagne
Music
A full tank of gas
Snuggles
A cheeseburger

A mulligan for the last 17 years

lindsay

Also, these are my other birthday lists, if you are interested in the evolution of Lindsay
http://wp.me/p14YNF-N
https://lindsaygrocks.com/2015/02/03/the-queen-of-wishful-thinking/

It happens

7 Jan

So here’s my last two weeks in a nutshell.

My old English professor came over in a bathrobe, crying, so now he’s staying with me.

My colleague already lives with me.

My colleague told HR I wanted to file a sexual harassment complaint and that wasn’t real.

Then the man I never wanted to file a complaint against crashed a motorcycle and died.

Then my friends got in a fight, kind of, and I spilt town. Went and had a Santa Fe day.

I can’t do it. Call me when it’s over. There’s too much drama at the holidays.

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