FUCKING BELLS, motherfuckers. It’s the new “Happy Holidays.”

November 16, 2011

I don’t really know how to start this. After so much build up, y’all are bound to be disappointed. Anyway, today, finally, at long last, was the day I got to wear my virtual prize-turned-actual prize I was awarded by @lgalaviz for making a dumbass comment on her blog, The Best Self-Help T-Shirt Catalog Ever! You can read my comment here if you feel like bothering, but you ought to click anyway and go to lgalaviz’s blog, because she’s pretty damn funny.

Here’s my virtual prize.

And here’s me, in the car, ready to adventure. Note that I opted for the long-sleeve version of the actual virtual T-shirt. It’s November, y’all.

And I didn't get to get my hair did this morning as planned because my "stylist" (gawd, how I hate that word. For me, it's right up there with "moist" and "discharge") had to take her sick kid to the doctor, so don't anyone dare say anything about my gray roots.

Alice went along grudgingly, because I needed a photographer, and I promised to buy her a tub of cookie dough, and I agreed that we could go eat first. She did warn me that if I got arrested for an obscenity charge, I was on my own. Rude.

Here’s me at the Dixie Café, with our waitress. I didn’t catch her name, which doesn’t matter anyway since I swore it wouldn’t be used. I did swear I would leave her an awesome tip for being such a good sport. A fifty percent tip is typically considered a good tip, but not really so much on a $10 tab. I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t that hungry.

She was a sweetheart. I think she was secretly THRILLED to be included in this trainwreck. Of course, she had no way of actually knowing how much of a trainwreck it was.

Here’s me eating fried mushrooms. Delicious as always, but I don’t understand why Dixie insists on serving them with honey mustard. Ranch is the appropriate condiment for mushrooms of any kind, as everyone knows. Quit trying to be innovative, Dixie Café.

Oddly enough, the picture of me stuffing food in my face in the one in which I look least fat.

No one paid any attention to my shirt, which was disappointing, but understandable, because I’m pretty sure Lindsay Lohan was in the booth on the other side of the restaurant. Here you can see her eating some mozarella sticks behind Hellbaby.

Actually, she might have been looking at her phone in this shot. She did that a lot. And she is a slooooow eater. I would think that might be how she stays so thin if I didn't know about. . . well, you know.

After eating and watching Hellbaby gnaw on crayons and gag herself on a piece of wheat roll, we went to Baby Depot because Hellbaby has only one pair of shoes and they didn’t match her outfit today.

Here’s me at Baby Depot, pointing at the sign, in case you missed the fact that I’m actually about to enter Baby Depot wearing a FUCKING BELLS T-shirt.

This one took a minute because I kept having to turn my back on kids coming out of the store who I thought maybe could read and I didn't want any of them to get popped in the mouth by their mamas like *I* did when I innocently asked, "What's FUCKING?" Always thinking of the children, I am.

 

To get to the Baby Depot side of Burlington Coat Factory, you have to walk all the way through the Burlington Coat Factory. Either people don’t pay attention, can’t read, or are more desensitized to profanity that I formerly assumed, because nobody batted an eye at me or my T-shirt. But of course, it’s highly likely that they didn’t even notice, because I’ve never had to tell anybody, EVER, “Hey, my eyes are up here.” I just don’t have that kind of mammary attraction, which everyone who follows me on Twitter knows is because when my Siamese twin @jillsmo and I were separated at birth at the chest, she got all the boobs.

Here’s me showing Hellbaby the shoes I picked out for her. She totally likes the ones I picked better than the ones her mother picked.

We are freaking excited about some shoes, I tell you.

Here’s me paying for the shoes. I apologized to the cashier for my offensive T-shirt even though I was pretty sure from the looks of her she would not be offended, and I was right because she laughed and said she had a Rob Zombie T-shirt that said worse.

My GAWD, Alice is a shitty photographer. I totally thought she was getting the cashier in this pic. And she made me look fat. I mean, I am fat, but a good photographer doesn't let you LOOK fat, right? Damn you, Alice.

The girls coming in the store with snot-nosed babies as we were going out also didn’t seem to care about my T-shirt, but they weren’t in any position to judge because they were wearing pajamas and flip-flops. IN NOVEMBER.

Then it was time to go to the drug store to pick up my crazy meds. According to Alice, we couldn’t get there fast enough since I was obviously in need of a very large dose.

And we pulled into the parking lot AND THERE WAS A MOTHERFUCKING SALVATION ARMY BELL RINGER RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF THE GODDAMN DRUG STORE RINGING A FUCKING BELL. I. Shit. You. Not. Except I don’t have any photographic evidence of this because of course by this time my goddamn iPhone battery didn’t have enough charge to power my camera, so I screamed to Alice, “Quick! Quick! We have to run home and get my charger out of my car!” and Alice said no. NO. Oh my Jesus gawd. [At this point I should explain that Alice usually has an iPhone charger in her car even though she doesn’t have an iPhone anymore, but she stupidly let her coworker use it at the old folks’ home over the weekend and forgot to put it back in the car. UNforgivable.]

Me:  Yes! YES! I HAVE TO HAVE A PICTURE OF ME WITH THE BELL RINGER!

Alice:  No. Go in and get your damn pills and we’re going home.

Me:  NOOOOOOO.

Alice:  Yes. You have had enough adventure in your stupid T-shirt. [OH HOLY MOTHERFUCKING SHIT, DID SHE REALLY JUST CALL MY T-SHIRT STUPID???] And it’s cold and Hellbaby is hungry and we need to get home.

Me:  Hellbaby is asleep! And it’s not cold! It will take five minutes!

Alice:  Get your ass out of this car and get your pills and quit screaming before you wake the Hellbaby.

Me:  YOU’re TWICE as loud as I am. [This is absolutely the truth.] We have to get a picture of the bell ringer! I will also buy you a package of tater crowns, because I know you’re out. Cookie dough AND tater crowns!

[I really know how to get to Alice. Tater crowns are her favorite. In case you don’t know what tater crowns are, and you might not, because I didn’t until I started living with Shrek and Alice, they are the muffin tops of tater tots. Seriously. A tater tot that’s only an eighth of an inch tall. Alice bakes them in the oven and then melts cheese on them in the microwave. They’re not bad.]

Alice:  Fine. But this is going to be a drive-by photo. I’m not getting out of the car.

Me:  Fine, fine, FINE! Go, go, go! And he better be here when we get back!

So Alice drove up the street to the apartment, which literally should have taken only five minutes, but for some reason there were ten cars stopped at a GREEN light in front of us and what the hell was up with that? But finally those assholes moved and I’m pretty sure it was because they heard me screaming, “Fucking BELLS, people! FUCKING BELLS!” but it might have been because of Alice screaming even louder, “Shut the fuck up before you WAKE THE BABY.”

And Hellbaby did wake up, but despite Alice claiming that she must be starving, she seemed to be in an excellent mood, and I swear I heard her say “fucking bells,” and I was all, “That’s right, Hellbaby, you tell ’em. FUCKING BELLS,” and then Alice was yelling, “Don’t teach her to say that, goddammit!”

Then I suddenly remembered I couldn’t get my phone charger out of my car because my goddamn car was GONE, because Husband has it because his truck blew up last week and is still in the shop. Shit, shit, fuckity shit! Foiled at every turn, and none of it MY fault. So Alice said, “See? We should just go home.”

Me:  No, we’ll go in and charge my phone for a few minutes with the wall charger, just enough to power the camera and we’ll come back. How long will that bell ringer be there, do you think?

Alice:  Until December 25! We are not coming back today if we get out of the car.

Me:  No, dumbass! I have to have the picture TODAY. And you’re right; he’ll probably be gone by the time the phone charges enough. [In hindsight, I realize Alice didn’t actually say anything right, but it was the heat of the moment and all that.] I’ll just grab my real camera. [I had thought about doing this earlier, but it seemed like a lot of trouble at the time. Live and learn, people, live and learn.]

Then Alice pulled into the apartment complex and I was all, “Why do you pull in this way? I always go around the back,” which really is the best way because you have to  go over less speed bumps, but I think she was ignoring me so FINE, if she wants to bump all over the place, it’s no skin off my nose. We pulled up in front our building and were somewhat nonplussed to see the hatchback of Shrek’s car wide open but
I couldn’t be bothered by that because I was on a MISSION and I jumped out of the car and ran down the sidewalk and jostled a little pee out of myself but I couldn’t worry about that either and Shrek was just coming out of the apartment and he might have been carrying something and I yelled, “Your hatchback is open!” and he said, “Yeah, I know, I opened it.”

I dashed into the apartment and yelled at the dogs to shut the hell up and ran to my closet and . . . couldn’t find my camera. But no worries, there was Alice’s camera right there on the counter, and she would probably take better pictures with her own camera she was familiar with, right?

I ran back out the apartment and Shrek was standing next to the car talking to Alice through the window and when he saw me he yelled, “What? You don’t shut doors? You let the dogs out!” and then I noticed those stupid dachshunds circling around his feet, which I wish I had snapped a picture of because it’s pretty funny to see miniature dachshunds milling around an ogre’s feet—I mean, his feet are as big as the dogs, y’all would have enjoyed seeing that, right?—and I yelled, “The door was already open! You left it open! I thought you wanted it open!” and he said, “I left it open for you!” and I said, “Bullshit! You didn’t even know I was coming in! You were already out and down the sidewalk!” and he yelled back, “Because I saw Alice’s car through the patio door and thought y’all were all coming in!” and I said, “Well, MY BAD. It’s not like your stupid dogs are going anywhere, anyway! They’re standing on your feet!!!” and the whole time I was yelling I was getting in the car and then having to shove the damn dogs out of the car and all I could think was “Bell ringer! Bell ringer! SALVATION ARMY BELL RINGER!!!”

So we went back to the drug store.

Aaaaaaand. . . you guessed it. The. Bell. Ringer. Was. Gone. Goddammit fuck it all to cocksucking motherfucking bullshit hell. The sign was still there, with the chain hanging down from it with the clippy thing to hang the bucket from, but . . . No bucket. No bell. No ringer.

I got out and ran to the front door and looked around like, I don’t know, like I thought he might be hiding or something. Shit. Gone. GOOOOOOOONNNNNE.

Alice:  Okay, go in and get your crazy meds and let’s go.

Me:  Well, at least get a picture of me standing by the sign and holding up the money I would have put in his bucket if he had been here with the fucking bucket.

Alice:  FINE. Go stand in front of the sign, you lunatic.

Me:  You have to come with me! You can’t get a picture from here! [I mean, she was parked all the way across the parking lot!]

Alice:  Yes, I can. I told you, I am not getting out of the car. It’s cold, and Hellbaby is asleep.

Me:  It’s fifty-fucking-seven degrees! That is not that cold! And leave her in the car! She’ll be RIGHT THERE. Ten steps away! Lock it! She’ll be in view THE WHOLE TIME.

Alice:  I am NOT leaving my baby in the car.

Me:  YOU are being RIDICULOUS. No one is going to steal the damn baby from a locked car ten steps from us!

Alice:  I AM NOT LEAVING MY BABY IN THE CAR.

And she wouldn’t. Asshole. She took a picture of me from the car and you couldn’t even tell those were BILLS I was holding. That’s right, Mr. Bell Ringer Slacker Man, I was going to put DOLLARS in your bucket, you lazy fuckwad. And you would have gotten your picture in a BLOG, that maybe SIX PEOPLE read. You can’t buy that kind of fame, you idiot.

 

Can you tell those are DOLLARS in my hand? You can't, can you? You can't even tell that's a Salvation Army sign on a tripod stand, can you?

 

So I screamed at Alice to at least pull up closer to the damn store, and she pulled into a HANDICAPPED PARKING SPOT, but she says since she didn’t actually put the car in park and the engine was running the whole time, it wasn’t a sin, and I had to turn the Salvation Army stand toward the car which I thought might have been illegal but I guess weirder shit than a woman in a FUCKING BELLS T-shirt while waving two dollars like the Monopoly man in the top hat having her picture taken with a bucketless Salvation Army sign goes down at that particular Walgreens. And even though she took it through the windshield because by that time she was being such a bitch she wouldn’t even roll down the window, it didn’t turn out as bad as I expected.

What the fuck, bell ringer? You just desert your post? What kind of soldier are you? I call for a court martial!

Alice was being REALLY testy by this time and screamed in a really ugly way when I got back in the car.

Alice:  What are you doing? Go get your damn pills!

Me:  We’re going to the drive-thru! What’s the point of going in if you’re not going to photograph it???

Alice:  FINE.

So here’s a picture of me sitting in the car in the drive-thru signing the charge slip for my crazy meds.

I've really got to get some insurance. But that would probably require me getting a job. Why must you make life so hard, Life?

Husband just called to whine about his day and ask me how the T-shirt adventure went and I told him how uncooperative Alice had been and how inconsiderate it was of her not to have a phone charger in her car and she just continued in this vein by yelling from the other side of the room while I was on the PHONE.

Alice:  It’s not your charger! Get your own charger!

Me:  I HAVE my own charger! I just don’t have my CAR. And it’s not [insert coworker’s name here] charger, either! I can’t believe you just left a perfectly good charger at work! Why are you so unhelpful???

Alice:  Because the world doesn’t revolve around your fucking T-shirt!

Me:  Today it does! You knew that before we left the house!

Alice:  I didn’t know you were serious, or I wouldn’t have gone anywhere with you.

And THIS is what I have to put up with to entertain y’all. I hope you appreciate it.

{ 22 comments… read them below or add one }

VerbVixen November 16, 2011 at 10:32 pm

Alice needs to be more supportive. FUCKING BELLS!

Reply

Anonymous November 16, 2011 at 10:51 pm

That was hilarious, but I think Alice was a good sport. #TeamAlice

Reply

lgalaviz November 16, 2011 at 11:12 pm

I would comment here, but that would be redundant. I just spend a good half hour quoting most of this blog entry to people on Twitter who had NO IDEA what the hell I was talking about. I don’t care. I was laughing the whole time. GREATNESS!!!!!

Reply

Gia November 16, 2011 at 11:18 pm

Color me impressed. Especially in baby depot. Fucking babies.

Reply

jillsmo November 17, 2011 at 12:18 am

I heart you

Reply

KYouell November 17, 2011 at 4:48 am

Loved it. Do you write like this all the time? Dammit, now I’m going to have to go read a shit-ton of back posts, aren’t I? It’s late & the kids are asleep so I had to keep my laughing in and it made me cry. I’m here because I couldn’t resist the tweet about “fucking bells.” I did resist the tweet about the ranch for mushrooms because I don’t like eating fungus, I don’t care what you slather it with. But cuss in a tweet & I’m pretty much a sucker for following that link. (Please do not Rick Roll me.)

Reply

Jenniferlaustin November 17, 2011 at 8:15 am

Bravo! Now that’s commitment.

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Jim W. November 17, 2011 at 8:29 am

Fucking bells. Excellent post. You’re funny.

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Angela@BeggingTheAnswer November 17, 2011 at 8:52 am

Awesome post! I really needed some laughs this morning. Thanks!!!

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Carmen November 17, 2011 at 10:58 am

So I saw on twitter last night that this post was written, but reading blogs on my Blackberry is a NIGHTMARE so I did a quick image scroll and SUFFERED ALL NIGHT KNOWING THAT I HAD TO WAIT UNTIL TODAY BEFORE I COULD READ IT (my actual computer is broken ‘yo)

you complete me Flappy, you complete me.

Reply

Lahikmajoe November 17, 2011 at 11:00 am

Thought those t-shirts were supposed to stay imaginary.

I know you won the contest and all, but aren’t you inviting unintended consequences by introducing imaginary t-shirts to an unimaginary world?

Reply

Lizbeth November 17, 2011 at 2:05 pm

That is hilarious. And no one even batting an eye at the Fucking bells, that’s shameful. If I were there I’d have given you a good look over but that just sounds creepy. You get what I mean, right? Right???

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highlyirritable November 17, 2011 at 4:02 pm

They made you sign a receipt at the drug store for crazy meds?

DID THEY NOT SEE THE SHIRT?

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Gin November 17, 2011 at 8:38 pm

Oh LAWD!! I giggled the entire time I was reading this!! Fucking Alice. Fucking lost charger. Fucking lazy slackass bellringer. FUCKING BELLS!!!!

Reply

Brenna November 17, 2011 at 11:52 pm

I loved everything about this blog entry. ESPECIALLY the sentence made almost entirely out of swear words. Golden!

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Nys November 18, 2011 at 9:59 am

Hahahah, I am very amused. It is because I’m drunk? Maybe, maybe not.

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Rusti November 21, 2011 at 1:45 pm

BWAHAHAHA! loved it. fucking bells is right :) LOL – thanks for the laughs :)

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Mia November 28, 2011 at 11:18 pm

May be the greatest adventure EVER. I hate those bell ringers. Seriously. I need a shirt like yours. Love you sister!

Reply

Suniverse December 21, 2011 at 3:18 pm

I cannot love you enough for how happy you make me.

This is every kind of hilarious and brilliant.

I LOVE YOU ALL DAY LONG.

Reply

donttouchthese February 2, 2012 at 9:01 pm

You are a savant of some kind.

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