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My bed sits on the floor. Boxspring, then the mattress, then an air mattress on top. Ever since I started getting old having back issues, I’ve been sleeping with an air mattress on top of the regular mattress. If I could afford one of those memory foam things, I’d get one because the air mattress’ rubber is kinda hot.

Anyhoo, I wrap the air mattress in a nice mattress cover, and nice sheets and it’s a very comfy sleep. When it starts to leak a little air, I use the battery operated pump and make it all nice and firm again. At some point, this stops working. Sometimes, that point comes too soon because something external has popped the mattress. I’m not sayin’ who, er what.

Last night my mattress was fine. During the night I had a series of visitors who annoyed me. One of those visitors popped my mattress. It was way, way too squishy this morning and my ass was firmly on top of the regular mattress. I could feel the little quilted parts. This brings me to the tale of the Princess and the Pea.

You’re thinking kid’s fairy tale, right? Well, you’re half right. Rott and Motley know their fairy tales. They also know me. If there is anything between the mattresses, I flip out. I swear I can feel it. One night, I went to bed and couldn’t get comfy. I tossed and turned and finally yelled.

Rott comes in and says, “What the hell? Who died?”

“There’s something in my bed,” I bitch, getting up and looking in the sheets and blankets for the culprit.

“It’s probably one of those little toilet paper balls,” Rott snarks.

“Ewwww!” I squeal, still checking the bedding.

I can’t find anything, so I start to lift the air mattress. Pillows start to slide and Rott grabs the mattress saying, “Woah, there Nellie. Not so fast. You get the pillows and I’ll lift the mattress.”

I grab up the four pillows and stand there glowering at the bed as Rott lifts the mattress. I stare at the flat expanse of the bed skirt, stretched across the mattress without a hump or a lump or a wrinkle. I frown heavily and Rott gives me another look that is reminiscent of Hilly’s famous RMEITBOMH.

“There’s nothing there. Can I put the mattress down now? You’re imagining things because you’re sleepy,” he tells me.

“I’m not sleepy. And I’m not sleepy because there is something in my fucking bed!” I exclaim. “Look under the other mattress.”

By now, Motley has arrived. “What’s going on?” she asks.

“Here. Hold this,” Rott gripes and hands her the air mattress. He yanks off the bed skirt and lifts the regular mattress. There in the center of the box spring is a dried lima bean the size of my thumbnail.

“AH HA!” I yell and drop the pillows to grab up the bean. “I TOLD YOU!”

Rott and Motley exchange a very suspicious look. My eyes narrow. They ignore me and start putting my bed back together. When it’s all ready to go, Motley picks up my pillows and tosses them to Rott who puts them in the bed and plumps them up.

“Better go to bed. Now, that you can sleep that is,” he mutters in a voice that is decidedly smirky.

I look at him. I look at Motley. They both start to grin and Rott turns to leave.

“Hey! You forgot something!” I tell him.

He turns back to me and I throw the lima bean at him. He catches it in one hand. “Fucker. Not only did you fuck with my bed, you fucked with my groceries,” I grumbled.

Motley, now openly snickering, heads out, saying to Rott, “Told you she’s the Princess and the Pea.”

Rott shakes his head and leaves too. I hear his chuckles echo down the hall as he returns to the living room.

Tonight, I am reminded of that occasion because of my popped mattress. I’m gonna fill it up with air, but since it’s got a small (claw made) leak somewhere, I know that in a few hours my ass will be feeling the quilted cover of the regular mattress, something far, far worse than a lima bean to someone like me.

I may not wake up black and blue like the Princess and the Pea did, but I guaran-damn-tee you that I will have tossed and turned and barely slept… just like a real Princess would have done.

Wishing you a pea-less Thursday!

One of Rott’s favorite bands of all time is Judas Priest. I know Priest, but not nearly as well as Rott does. He does a great impersonation of Rob Halford, knows all the songs, all the lyrics, every freaking note… I’m old and my memory doesn’t work as well as it used to. I shove a lot of stuff out to make room for more current stuff. I don’t listen to Priest so much anymore, so of course I barely remember how some of the songs go.

You’re wanting to know where I’m going with this, aren’t you? I have a point… oh, yes I do.

Well, my kid has always wanted a Nintendo, PS, Wii… some kind of gaming console. She has for YEARS. Have I given in and purchased one? Ever? NO FREAKING WAY. Her experience with things like Guitar Hero are at other people’s houses. While she was gone for two weeks at her friend’s house last month, she played Rock Band a lot. So she’s pretty good at it. Which was totally a saving grace when we went to Hilly’s only to be faced with Rock Band.

Motley was excited. I was dismayed. I suck at games. I’ve been playing the horse sim game for years, and I still suck at it. As you can guess, they got me to play Rock Band… a little. I was just lost with the game, but apparently I was the only one who knew any of Judas Priest’s You’ve Got Another Thing Comin’. I mangled it, mostly because I just don’t remember all of it. Oh, and Jester and UMB made me laugh a lot so I couldn’t sing. Laughing is forgivable. Just sucking… well, not so much. Heh.

Anyway, the Tuesday Tune is Judas Priest, cause yanno… YOU might have to sing it when you’re playing Rock Band and you wouldn’t wanna fuck up without the excuse of Jester making you laugh, now would you?

Judas Priest

Have a RottNRoll Priest loving Tuesday!

*BUUUURP!*

Crap! I spoiled the silence. Oh, well. Since I broke the silence I might as well say this: Thanks to everyone for the good wishes. Yesterday was Rott’s 42nd birthday and I was missing him something fierce. I hate lengthy separations. My overactive imagination starts poking at my low self esteem and I start thinking things I shouldn’t. I appreciate that you all care enough to come by and say something nice to me.

MUAH! Luvs you all!

I love Trotter. He always makes me laugh. In a different way than Irish because, God and the sim knows, they have completely different styles of humor. Trotter is a friend from the horse racing sim game I play. Trot’s wise with a dry sense of humor and a frank appreciation for women. I whined in the sim chat that no one was commenting on my blog. Trot says, “Where’s the pics?” We all thought the same thing… Trot wanted nekkid women which reminds me of pornfest. So I decided I would talk about Trotter today. Trotter, the sim, and pornfest.

Pornfest is a creation of my S.O. Rott. Rott hooked up all the TVs in the condo to a porn feed from his DVD player. You can see porn in virtually every room in the house - he calls it Pornfest. Of course, when my kid was younger he could only do Pornfest when she went to her dad’s for the weekend or when we were gone for the day at work and school.

I used to tell the story of Pornfest in the sim chat room and most of the guys were complimentary. I mean, c’mon… what man isn’t into porn? The only ones I’ve ever met who didn’t like it were the holy rollers. And they prolly did too but just wouldn’t admit it. Just because you believe in God or Jesus doesn’t mean you can’t get turned on by people having sex.

Trotter is unabashedly male. I can smell the testosterone through the computer, I swear. He’s low key about it… not like Vett and his Girls Gone Wild attitude. No, Trotter is suave and uses his dry humor to advantage. I always think of him as the James Bond of the sim. Shaken, not stirred. Although I suppose in Trot’s case he’s stirred, not shaken! LOL So if Trot’s Bond, I guess that makes Irish Felix Leiter. Felix is the CIA agent who is Bond’s pal. He’s the Jerry Lewis to Trot’s Dean Martin. They are both hot as hell to the sim females although some of them refuse to admit it and prefer to hit on Greg. Heh.

Greg’s charm not withstanding, all the women seem to acknowledge Trot as the man about town (and the sim) that he is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one disagree with him in the sim chat. Unless we’re talking sires and breeding. EVERYONE disagrees about THAT. It’s the universal cause of discord because no two people agree on breeding except the Super guys from Del Penn. I’ve never seen such fighting as the simmers do over breeding fake horses. Breed this one over. No, don’t. This is a good breeding. No, it’s not. Dixie Union is a good sire. I’ve never had the urge to use him. And on and on. I know, if you’re reading this and you’re not from the sim you’re going WTF is she yammering about?

The people from the sim are as fierce about it as others are about porn. Some people can’t live without at least a little porn entertainment in their lives. The simmers can’t live without their fake horses and the whole sim lifestyle of breeding and training and betting. Okay, some of the simmers can’t live without porn either. Like Trotter insinuating that he wouldn’t comment on my blog unless I posted pics… meaning naked ones. Maybe I’ll post a naked Kelly Monaco just for him this week. LOL

I guess we all have our obsessions. Mine is Marcus. Ok, and the sim. *sigh* Okay, Pornfest too. You got me there. Now I’ve confessed to everything. Well, maybe not everything. Heh. Time for me to go. The hot grocery delivery guy is due here anytime with my food! Just another little obsession of mine… like the fake horses and pornfest. Only this obsession breathes. Heh Heh.

Laters peeps!