Rapier's Wit

This post is from August 22, 2010! Man, what a difference 5 years makes. I've been through a lot in that time. One major change is that ... well, the change has occurred and the subject matter of the post below is moot. However, it is amusing to me all the same. I found it while looking through notes posted on Facebook. I didn't realize they existed anymore. I thought Facebook had done away with them long ago. Anyway, enjoy my ramblings about being 45 and facing hormonal changes. Also, enjoy my collar bones and singular chin in the photo to the left. I'd lost over 40 lbs. I'm mega fatter in comparison now. Sadness. Working on that again.  Right to the point: I'm a girl who has needed a check up from the neck up. Thumbing through the Yellow Pages for a shrink isn't what is inferred. Although, that would probably do me a world of good. After all, there are plenty of reasons for the manner in which I act and react to situations in my life. Knee jerk reactions t...

No. The Rapier household does not have a washer and dryer yet. The water that comes into my house is rusty. I don't want discolored whites. Orange, in this case, is not the new black. The plumbing and water heater are all relatively new. The pipes from the main water line to the house, however, is as old as running water, I am told. So, with that in mind, I do not invest in the modern convenience of having the units in my rental home. And no, I don't want to buy additional laundry additives that takes the rust out of the wash water. I did that when we lived in the country and it ruined my cottons. Sheesh. For your viewing pleasure. He was not at the laundromat today. He's on loan from LovingMaleModels on Instagram Today was a much needed laundry day. The idea of spending my first weekend off in over six weeks (last weekend) in a laundromat held absolutely zero appeal. Additionally, the weekends are the busiest time of the week to visit said laund-O-rama. Being there d...

My house is a filth pit and I blame Netflix. For years we have had a Netflix subscription. Long before streaming was available I paid $14.99 per month to have unlimited DVDs sent to my home. The only real reason I maintained my cable subscription was for my son who was a youngster. He needed entertainment between school, homework and video games. Anyway, it was all about the movies. If there were television series available I did not bother because it seemed such a, well, a bother. Flash forward to the age of streaming video! It took me quite awhile to catch on. We accessed it through my son's Wii gaming system in the earlier days. If there wasn't a great movie available, I did not partake in what my $7.99 per month afforded. There was no original programming that I know of back then. When the makers of Arrested Development  announced they would be creating a new season exclusively for Netflix I about doo-dooed my pants. It was then that I discovered a lot more was availa...

The other day I received a wrong number text. Instead of being quick by telling the sender 'wrong number,' I got creative like all those people who end up on Tumblr and Buzz Feed. First, I had to high tail it to Google and search a photo. My initial thought was an image depicting a person excited about cookies. Search: COOKIES Enter the screenshot. Hmmm That photo wasn't going to do the ... WAIT A MINUTE! Wait a cotton pickin' booger flickin' minute! What is Google suggesting as a related search? Let me point it out Who would have thunk to add THAT to cookies or any baked goods. I imagine Martha Stewart sitting at her kitchen counter after a tryst with the gardener or the butcher ... ya know, she's whipping up a post-coital snack to rev back up to go in for a second round...and BAM! What ever could she do with excess semen? You're welcome! Now we both have that disturbing image in our heads. Ho, ho, ho. Here's the screenshot of the te...

YOU'RE WELCOME! HAPPY THANKSGIVING NIGHTMARES ARE ON ME.

The other day I questioned why this blog sits empty more and more. Then, it hit me. Twitter and Facebook. You see, what used to be the topics of babbling on the blog have become 140 character mind bytes. Then, if those meandering thoughts and opinions strike a chord or nerve with those who read them, they'll comment, like or just ignore. Immediate gratification. I tweet it. Boom!  The thoughts and ideas vamoose leaving me with nothing else to say... well, nothing more than 140 characters. I miss this. You know, putting words together to form sentences that create paragraphs. Sure, my grammar is often questionable. The good news for me is that I don't give a shit. HA! The good news for you is that I know the majority of lessons we learned in primary school. Do not request that I diagram a sentence. We learned that in 8th grade when I had a language arts teacher nicknamed Bubbles. The hormonally charged class spent so much time psychologically tormenting the extremely sensi...

If you've been stalk following me for more than a year, then you know I had some issues with my left leg. Wait, did I blog about that horrible experience or did I manage to keep it to myself? I keep very little about my life to myself. What I mean is that I may have only reported the ugliness on Facebook. OK. In March of 2012 a funky bump appeared on my lower left leg. I, being stupid, picked at it. Despite bandaging, treating it with triple antibiotic cream etc... the damned thing would not heal. After 2 months of that nonsense I sought out WebMd. (You thought I was going to say medical treatment, didn't you?) There was a myriad of possibilities and I treated the wound accordingly. From soaking it with apple cider vinegar to coating it with hydrogen peroxide, it only got worse. Surprise! Hey, I wanted a homeopathic remedy. In the long run it was foolish. Don't you dare wag your finger at me. When our vacation to California was quickly approaching, I made haste, fina...

Today after I received multiple injections in my left leg -- part of treatment for totally grody varicose veins -- I walked across the clinic's parking lot to imbibe in coffee and a bagel. (French toast crunch, if you must know.) There I sat sipping my hazelnut coffee and scrolling through Google News when a woman who, judging by the volume of her voice, seemed oblivious that she was inside a restaurant where most people read and chill rather than a rock concert, came strolling over.  She was greeted by a couple others and went on to explain why she was late to what sounded like a weekly gathering. It was then that it seemed a grand idea for me to post what I overheard to Facebook. Rather than retype what has already been put into words, I copied and now shall execute the paste: FYI, apparently the plural of breakfasts is breakfastes ... At least according to the woman behind me. Marissa Rapier   A man sitting across from me has the u...