Hank

SugarBalls and I decided to have a few vittles at a cute cafe in Atlanta. We enjoyed a very healthy lunch and were all proud of ourselves for eating healthy. We both agreed that it would have tasted better at a few bucks less, but whatever. We were having our chat time and it was all good. Feeling full of goodness, I was relaxing and discussing how dire my pedicure situation was, when SugarBalls gasped and blanched. I wondered what it could be, white clogs with nail-head trim, an ex-boyfriend, David Beckham. Nope. It was, as he was dubbed a few short minutes later, Hank.

Hank was the largest cockroach that we had ever seen. That is saying a lot living in the South, were they can be weighed in ounces. Hank was strolling through the dining room of this counter restaurant. I don't kid when I say strolling. I have never seen a cockroach move SO slowly. He was meandering, not skittering like his brethren. It was as if he was making his suggestions to the patrons waiting in line. "Have the chicken salad, it is great! Avoid the watermelon, my uncle died in there this morning." The worst part was the couple of patrons that noticed Hank and REMAINED IN LINE.

SugarBalls and I both turned green and headed for the hills. I will give you two guesses where we will not be lunching again.

Stench

Ok, so this is not the first time that my darling dog has been playing in the backyard and ended up rolling in poop. She is pretty laid back when she comes in and basically points to her neck/face area to show off her newly acquired poo-necklace. VILE. When she pulled this little move today, I was running out of the house for a lunch meeting. I threw her poo-crusted collar into the sink and left her in her quarters (upstairs guest bath). I figured when I returned from my meeting I would give her a quick bath, with the aide of haz-mat gloves, and she would be back to her charming non-shit smelling condition. How wrong I was.

After three scrubbings, I called SugarBalls my constant companion/gay boyfriend (maybe one day he will be my gay husband. I can only hope.) Poor SugarBalls didn't know what hit him when he answered the phone and The P was screaming, "I can't seem to get the shit smell off!!!! Help!" Unfortuately, SugarBalls was no help as he collapsed into peals of laughter on the other end of the phone. Thanks SugarBalls, I will remember that.

Finally, after some serious scrubbing and maybe a little lemon juice (just a little), Dolce is back to her precious self.

Happy Tuesday. May the smell of poo not be your companion.

Seriously.

I am going to come out and admit I have a cleaning lady. It is just too much to maintain a level of fabulousity, and scrub toilets. It is a luxury that I can't seem to give up. Judge away.

Well, today is Cleaning Lady Day, and I was so excited! I even have a little smiley face in my calendar for today! I would come home and find my house sparkling clean and smelling all lemony. I get such happy feelings when I think about it! I knew I was going to be super busy today, so I left instructions for them to just use a key that I had hidden for them.

I pulled in from a super hectic morning of meetings to find a MERCEDES in my driveway. Seriously. A MERCEDES. MY CLEANING LADY DRIVES A MERCEDES? If THAT isn't a sign that I may be paying too much, I don't know what is. Then, I got nervous. What if someone in a luxury car was breaking into my house and stealing my stuff. I crept in, with my mace out ready to spray down any intruders. Unfortunately, I was greeted by the realization that I am paying my cleaning service WAY too much. Consider the smiley face removed from today's calendar.