Foygasms

Leave a comment Posted on Foygasms, rant, Uncategorized

Reason #8769 Pat is an ass

So, recently, Pat bought some bagels and cream cheese. I have been trying to diet, but in a fit of PMS-ing, I got sick of spinach cakes and langostinos and decided I NEEDED a bagel with a ton of cream cheese on it.

I went to the fridge, pulled out the bagels and started toasting one. In my diet-delirium, I start fantasizing about how amazing it was going to taste, while I rummaged through the fridge for some cream cheese.

To my horror, I discovered he bought VEGETABLE cream cheese. Who the hell does that??? Honey and walnut is BY FAR better, and I would even settle for just plain, but VEGGIE?!?!?!

I will tell you who the hell does that…a man who knows his wife detests vegetables, and would probably avoid it like the plague.

Well, let me tell you all something…when you are in a diet-delirium, coupled with raging PMS, you will basically smear shit on your bagel, if that is what you are craving. So, I ate the veggie cream cheese on my bagel, and it actually wasn’t as bad as I thought. So, the next morning, I had it again. And again the next morning. (Yeah, the diet is not going well, if you haven’t figured it out.)

Saturday, Pat went to make himself a bagel, and I heard him yelling from the kitchen, “Hey, who the hell ate all my cream cheese?!?!”

Well, considering two of us live there, and the dogs and cats don’t have opposable thumbs, one guess, asshole….

I yelled back that *I* did. He groaned and said he didn’t think I would eat it. I then yelled at him that I KNEW he intentionally bought veggie, thinking I wouldn’t touch it, but I did, and his asshole logic didn’t succeed.

Well, fast forward to this morning…I went in the fridge…there are new wheat bagels–GREAT, MY FAVE. I looked around for cream cheese. Great, brand new container right next to my favorite bagels. Then I looked closer…CHIVE AND ONION. I immediately retched and Pat was standing there laughing. He then informed me that he intentionally bought chive, knowing I REALLY hated it, and he’s going to enjoy MY favorite wheat bagels with it slathered on. All he’d have to do is throw some raisin bagels in the mix, and I’d be back to spinach cakes and langostinos by 9:30 AM.

Don’t be shocked if you read a news story soon about a 50-year-old man who choked to death on raisin bagels smeared with chive and onion cream cheese. It’s a distinct probability possibility.

Leave a comment Posted on Foygasms, Water aerobics

Won’t be eating a Baby Ruth anytime soon…

And it’s not because I am trying to honor my “healthy eating” diet….

So, tonight, I went to water zumba class…and before I get into the “this shit only happens to ME” diatribe, let me give you the lay of the land at the Y. The Y has basically two pools–the “family” pool, which has a play area for kids, a lazy river, and the therapy pool, all inter-connected. This pool is ten degrees warmer than the “competitive pool”, which is where most of the classes I attend is, along with the lanes where people go to actually swim laps.

I learned a trick from the old ladies–the competitive pool is VERY cold, so it’s easier to go into the family/therapy pool first, get used to that, and then jump into the competitive pool, and it’s not as big of a shock to your system.

So tonight, Melissa and I show up for water zumba, which is supposed to be in the family/therapy pool. Well, there were some swim lessons going on in that pool, so we assumed our class was moved to the competitive pool. We ATTEMPTED to get used to that pool, step-by-step, but I only managed to get up to my knees–it was miserable. In the meantime, all the ladies came into the competitive pool and started getting ready for class.

I notice that there were two minutes until class time, so I suggested to Melissa that we run into the family/therapy pool, which was now empty, jump in, and then run back to our class. She questioned if there was enough time. I said yep, two minutes–we’d be FINE–just jump in and run back.

We went to the other pool, and jumped in. As we did, the instructor ran over and was waving her arms frantically, and said, “NO!!! Class is in the other pool!” I told her I knew that–we just wanted to get used to the water. Two life guards signalled for us to get out, and I said, “WE ARE!!! WE JUST WANT TO GET USED TO THE WATER EASIER!!!” I was a little miffed they were telling us to get out now. But, okay….

So, we went into the competitive pool, and as we walked in, the instructor said, “You must be a mom”, and I asked her, “Why?”….

She replied, “Well, poop doesn’t bother you.”

WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!?!?! Um, yeah, poop DOES bother me.

She then went on to tell us THAT is why the class was moved and the other pool was EVACUATED. Someone POOPED in the pool!!!

I yelled, “Next time there is ever POOP in the pool, please don’t say ‘Class is over here’–SCREAM ‘POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP’ at me please.”

She said, “Oh, I figured you knew and poop just didn’t bother you!”

Um, NO–I have never even changed a DIAPER in my life, I informed her. POOP does bother me. A lot.

So, basically, Melissa and I warmed up in a damned toilet. And all I kept thinking all throughout class was about that scene in Caddyshack…you all know the scene….

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Yep. And now my eyes are burning because I am convinced I have e-coli fecal germs in them and I will wake up with “poop eye”…

So, what did I learn tonight? When a pool empties out quickly, STAY the fuck out of it. Period.

1 Comment Posted on Blog, Foygasms, New home

NEW HOME!!! WELCOME!

Well, I caved. I am splitting off my personal blog from my Cool Joyce art page. It breaks my heart to do so, but one reason I haven’t been blogging as often is I felt the need to somewhat censor myself because of potential old biddies or younger women with sticks up their asses who were perusing my site for scarves and paintings who might be offended by my pearls of wisdom.

I have a ton of stories that I have been dying to post, but I also have bills to pay, and can’t lose business because someone thinks me talking about discovering my son is getting blowies is inappropriate.

So, new home.

Over dinner, there was much conversation about what to call this new home. Originally, it was The Cat Lady Manifestos. Pat is always accusing me of writing “my manifesto”, like the uni-bomber did. We also had “Joyce Words”, a play on Choice Words, Cat Lady Canon, which we decided was too obtuse, and people would think I spelled “cannon” wrong. I don’t recall who, but someone blurted out Foygasms (I think it was me). We also had “Multiple Foygasms”,  “Verbal Foygasms”…with tag lines such as, “Hot sticky loads of wisdom, tough to swallow.” That was one of the nicer ones.

So, stay tuned. As always, it’s a work in progress, because I suck at getting my shit together.

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