Toilets and Unicorns

I had the most amazing conversation with my friend, Red, two nights ago. It lasted for about an hour and we covered a range of topics from fancy, futuristic toilets to the evolution of Narwhals. I mean, how could it be bad with the key elements of life questioned?

The futuristic toilet thing may not be entirely suitable to talk about here, on a personal blog that I use to write about my life (especially the writing aspect of it), but just know—Red will be paten this epic toilet that I truly hope exists in the future and, most importantly, in the fancy bathroom of my castle-mansion where Batman and I will reside.

But, onto more appropriate matters—my silver unicorn hair. No, it is not gray. And it’s not white either. It’s silver unicorn, and they’re sprouting up sporadically across my scalp. Not in huge waves or anything—God, no—but they’re there, sparkling strands of once-brown and causing Batman to remind me of my cougar status. Yeah, because seven months younger is really robbing that cradle. *Rolls eyes*

I mentioned this invasion of silver unicorn hair to Red who agreed that I was climbing that mountain of life when, unexpectedly (and at the same time not) the conversation morphed into the existence/disappearance of unicorns. Where are they? Where have they all gone? If aliens and mermaids and Bigfoot exists, why not unicorns? Voldemort had to survive off something, right? Well, much like a professor, Red dove into the surprisingly animated explanation of how we—people—drove unicorns from the land millions of years ago in pursuit of their magical horn power. He said they fled to the sea where, over time, they transformed into the modern day Narwhals.

FAIL.

On the Narwhals, not the unicorns. They kind of went a little backwards there, didn’t they? Which gave birth to another depressing question. If Narwhals come from unicorns, and my brown hair is now turning silver, does that mean I’m devolving? I already have trouble opening doors and gates and locks and anything that should be pretty easy—ask Batman—so am I just going backwards at this point? Will I not be able to turn on the shower soon to wash these gorgeous, glistening locks? That’s depressing. Just like the Narwhales, which, by the way, I was pronouncing wrong. According to Batman. It’s Nar-wall, not Nar-whale he corrected me, oh, about a THOUSAND times. Does it matter? Yes it does, because he HAS to be right. And then, to prove himself further, he proceeded to research that possums are really spelled opossums, at which point I looked out the window to the pretty houses passing by.

I wish I could tell you more about these toilets. But Red needs to paten their awesomeness first. And, just so you know, we don’t just discuss toilets and unicorns. We talk about adult topics too. Like healthcare. I suggested that every time the common cold strikes, they (some government official) should deliver Dayquil and Nightquil to your door completely paid for. Because that would rock. I would tip the delivery guy—it would be rude not to—but how cool would that be? And it would create more delivery jobs and stuff. But honestly, I just don’t want to drive to the grocery store when I’m sick and shell out the fifteen bucks because I’m significantly underwealthy. Sure, I should keep my medicine cabinet stocked to which I say, please refer to the previous post.

But… yeah… that pretty much concluded our anything-near mature topic. After that, I think the conversation steered back to our futures as ghosts and the type of scare tactics we’d use. Ready for this? ONLY when that special someone is on the shitter. Think about it… you’re doing your business, pushing as normal when suddenly BAM! Something scares the living SHIT out of you! Except not literally, because you clench.  And it happens over and over and over again. What an incredibly epic shit that would be.

And it would be all because of us. 🙂

Ah, it’s good to catch up with old friends.

Getting Aroused By My Armpit

Today I wore Batman’s deodorant.

Not one of my prouder moments, but also, not the first time it’s happened. I should be more responsible like you guys. You know, actually take inventory of stuff I need and not, when I reach for toilet paper, or, in this case, deodorant, find I don’t have it. And then I’m staring at the empty roller or stick like it’s their fault they didn’t tell me they were running low.

The nerve of some inanimates.

But, since we’re not in an age where my Mitchum can tell me it only has one or two swipes left, I sadly discovered I was all out this morning and so, I reached for Batman’s Axe instead. Again, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to go for his supply. Two years ago, I found myself in the same predicament. I was completely out of my speed stick so I did a solid swipe of Axe under both pits, hoping no one would notice. Besides, I’d rather smell like a dude than emit some terrible sweaty stench—lesser of two evils, right? But then, the inevitable happened:

“Are you wearing men’s deodorant?”

Busted.

THANK GOD we were alone because it was as if she’d solved the riddle of the Sphinx. There were no dudes around—only us—so where was the delicious masculine scent coming from? Oh yes, it was wafting off of little old me. I admitted to the faux pas, and hoped it would be the last time I’d ever have to… and then today happens.

I’m not sure if it’s worse, but I had a thorough swipe under one arm before my Mitchum decided to crap out on me. With a defeated sigh (and angry we’re not at an age where my deodorant can talk) I had to go for Batman’s. So I went into work today smelling half like a woman and half like a man. The disappointing thing was, every time I lifted my right arm, a wave of the yummy male scent hit me and for the briefest of seconds, I thought Batman was nearby. Him, or some other incredibly good smelling dude. But it was no one. I just kept getting aroused by my armpit. Which is never something you want.  I wasn’t asked about the scent—THANK GOD—but I kept deceiving myself throughout the day which made it incredibly long and confusing.

So, you’d assume that on my way home from work, I’d stop and stock up. Well, that’s what you get for assuming. I was already used to the scent of the Axe (and yes, half smelling like a guy), so that by the time I drove home, I’d forgotten I needed my Mitchum. I could go out now, but I’ve already nestled into my recliner and the two—maybe three—glasses of wine aren’t helping me with anything, except writing this blog about wearing Batman’s deodorant. Yes, this is what my life consists of.

And I love it.

It’s been a while since I’ve written my last post, so let’s see… what else?

For Halloween this past weekend, Batman and I went as Mario and Luigi. Yeah—we’re that couple. I’d have a picture of us if I actually remembered to take one. It was also the weekend of the Florida-Miami game so all attention was diverted. I’ll be honest—I’m terrible with school spirit (one of the things Batman wishes was different) but my focus was on watching him watch the game. It was kind of awesome. The phone was somewhere nearby, but obviously not in my hands to capture such an amazing picture as Luigi sitting on the couch and yelling at the ref over some dumbass call. Besides, I’d doubt he’d want those pictures posted. And then, at the party (which was a Vintage Video game theme) everyone was busy playing Duck Hunt and NBA Jam and Mario Cart, so no one had their phones out and snapping pictures. I’m not a big gamer, so I stuck to sucking at Duck Hunt for five rounds (by the way—why can’t we shoot that dog? He was a laughing bastard the entire time I was playing and then, when I actually shot a duck, he held them up in pride like it was him who got the kill. What the hell you stupid dog?) So, sadly, no pictures of our amazing portrayal of the famed Italian plumbers. You can go ahead and use that imagination, though. I’m sure it beats out the reality.

Other than that, life is pretty much the same… we’re creeping further down the year toward Christmas. I know right?!?!? Where the hell did 2013 go? For those of you who know about Escape from Harrizel, I’ll report that that the reason so few blogs have gone up recently is due to the edits of book 2, Plague of Mybyncia, which I plan on getting to the editor by December. (Cross your fingers, toes, eyes, arms and anything else willing to fold over another body part). I’ve been working away each night to make sure I can have the final product ready to go in spring. And I’m super excited so far!

Things are looking good right now, so once I get around to the grocery store for the Mitchum, everything will be back on track. But I’m lazy and might not get to the store before work. Should I chance day two of smelling like a man? I don’t mind, but can I risk walking around with a heavy scent of masculine sexy? I don’t want to upset the other ladies…