MC PeePants

Wow.  I feel like I'm having a word vomit moment.  Does that happen to anyone else?  You know, when you've said the same thing 200 million times, but a situation deems it necessary to up the total to 200 million and 1?  Word vomit.  It just keeps coming up and you can't stop it. 

I'm hoping everyone reading this is as sick of hearing about it as I am of blogging about it.  It being my "work status."  If you follow me on facebook, you know that my NY resolution is to cease caring about people who judge my decision to quit the Journal-Star.  I joked that although I normally hate people who use this "reasoning,"  I'm going to guess that most of the haters are just jealous.  Frankly, who wouldn't be jealous?  Who would get an opportunity like this and say, "Gee thanks but no thanks.  I think it sounds like a great idea in theory, but I really enjoyed going to 4 yrs of college, busting my ass, graduating with honors and being underpaid, underappreciated and having nothing to aspire to.  Oh, and I really enjoy the 2 hour commute each day too."  Yeah, that would be NO ONE. 

So my theory is that the haters are nothing more than Jealous Jessies.  That must mean I'm pretty freaking AWESOME and have a totally RAD life.  It's kind of sad, really.  Because what the JJs are actually jealous of are THINGS.  We have been very fortunate and we do have some nice things.  But it's pretty UNfortunate that no one seems to focus on what's actually important, like the relationship my husband and I have INSIDE the nice house.  Ok, stepping down from the soapbox.

I honestly wish that all the JJs could have seen just how awesome and totally rad my life really is, up close and personally, this past Friday night.  Perhaps after witnessing Friday night's events, the JJs might just change their JJ tune. 

Friday night, a friend of a friend was in town and wanted to see the "sights" of Goofy Ridge.  Talk about a way to start the evening!  We headed to the Mallard Club and ended up at the Hialeah.  Adam pre-partied and continued his binge throughout the night.  A friend even pointed out that it might be a good idea to lock the door to the laundry room, judging by Adam's state, especially after the infamous "Washing Machine Incident of '09." 

I was woken up at 2:30 AM to Adam shuffling down the hall.  The mental alarm bells went off, as this is how the washing machine incident began.  I hesitated, didn't bother to get up, but called out to ask what he was doing.  I can't recall his response, but whatever it was apparently merited me dragging my fat ass out of bed and checking out the situation. 

Let me set the scene.  I am still half asleep.  My eyes are partially crusted shut because I fell asleep in my mascara.  I have no contacts in, and am therefore basically blind...so the fact that the house is pitch black only complicates matters.  Now.  The hallway outside of our room is mostly tiled, but immediately outside our door is still carpeted.  This is important.

I begin my journey down the hall, stumbling all over the place (since I can't see).   By the time I got both my feet onto the tiled portion of the hallway (approx. 3 ft. from the door), I started screaming.  I was standing in a puddle.  I turned to run towards the light switch and find out what the F I was standing in...and slid down the tile, nearly spraining my ankle.  I'll reserve the ensuing string of 4-letter words for another time.  I flipped the switch, and realized the puddle was only on the tile (whew!) but stretched past the laundry room, around the corner (nearly 2.5 ft.).  And it was a puddle of piss.  So basically what had to happen is Adam got to the end of the carpet, whipped it out and peed all over the floor.  I don't know how one bladder could hold that much liquid but, then again, I'm no expert.  Even more special, past the piss pond, there are wet footprints going down the hall towards the half-bath.  How he could still have to pee is beyond me...but he did.  2 more times.  All over the bathroom floor.  By the time he was done, I was on my hands and knees cleaning up the pee pond.  He appeared out of nowhere and told me I was being an asshole because I was cleaning it up and he could do a better job.  Believe me, I welcomed that proposal, though I highly doubted its merit.  He grabs ONE paper towel, smears the pee all over the floor, including the areas it (miraculously) had not already hit.  He was therefore banned from cleanup duty and proceeded into the bedroom and transformed his nose and mouth into a lawnmower.  Nothing like being woken up to piss all over the floor, being called an asshole for cleaning it up, and then trying to go to sleep with a chain saw in your ear. 

You know how sometimes when you're really pissed, you get all these crazy ideas to try and fix the situation?  Here are the ideas I imagined, then eliminated:
-Murder
-Rubber Sheets
-Handcuffs
-Locking him in the room

As I said, all ideas were shoved aside.  Murder would only cause me more problems, and I don't look good in orange.  Ideas 2-4 all end up with me getting peed ON.

Now, in Adam's defense, he did get out the Swiffer Wet Jet and clean up all the urine residue on Saturday morning.  After I explained Piss Lake. 

So to all those Jealous Jessies out there...maybe you should focus on making your own life better instead of being jealous of mine.  Because clearly Ridge Living is totally AWESOME and RAD.  And if you're still not convinced, I know a yellow lake you can visit...

Some secrets are too good to keep

Despite what it may seem, I don't share every juicy/embarrassing story on this blog.  Some things need to be kept private.  This story was going to be one of them, because I assumed the story was over.  It's not. 

Saturday night, Adam, some friends and I went to the Sportsman's Club in Spring Lake.  For whatever reason, Adam decided it was a good night for large draft beers.  (Adam normally gets ridiculously long headaches from draft beer.)  We all had a really great time and headed home around 11. 

At 1 AM, I was awakened by Adam getting out of bed and heading out of the room.  Given past experiences with this type of behavior (New Year's, anyone?), I stayed awake listening to see where he was going.  I thought maybe he was headed to the bathroom...but he got to the laundry room, turned on the light, and stopped.  I couldn't hear any more footsteps, so I thought maybe he'd fallen asleep.  By the time I got to the laundry room, he'd opened the front-load washer and was peeing on it.  I freaked out!  I finally dragged him to bed, where he remained for the rest of the night. 

Sunday morning I filled him in, and he bleached the washing machine.  I was still irritated, but moved on.  That is where I thought the story ended.  We've all done stupid things when drunk, so I was gonna keep that one off the blog.

This morning, my dirty clothes hamper was overflowing, which explains why I couldn't find anything to wear besides pajamas.  I decided to head over to the laundry room and assess the situation.  It reeks of pee.  Really, really, really strong pee.  But I saw Adam bleach the areas he'd peed on, so I couldn't figure it out.  Mice, perhaps?  Either way, the "self-clean" cycle was definitely in order. 

I opened the washer to make sure I wouldn't ruin anything w/ the self-clean cycle (it uses straight bleach) and immediately started gagging.  Apparently Adam did not pee ON the washing machine, he peed INTO the washing machine, and there were 2 pairs of socks in there, that have been there, with the door shut, for 2 days, soaked in urine.  I got light-headed and couldn't stop gagging, so I poured some bleach in and ran out of the room.

My mom called while the washer was running, so I didn't notice that the washer stopped.  When I went to check, it had the F light on, which means the cycle failed.  There was water on the floor, suds on the washer's drawer, and suds behind the washer.  Uh oh.

After careful inspection, I also noticed the ENTIRE washing machine was full of suds, as if you'd put liquid dish soap in the dishwasher.  Turns out, this is basically EXACTLY what I did.  I was gagging so much from the dirty pee socks that I didn't pay quite enough attention to the bleach I used.  You see, we have 2 bottles of bleach.  Both are blue, both are clorox, both are similar in size and shape.  In my rush to get out of there, I must've grabbed the kind that's more like detergent w/ a bleach additive, instead of the straight bleach.  Whoops.

Nothing more fun than spending a Monday morning scooping pee suds out of the washing machine. 

How early is too early for straight vodka?