Mom, What, No.

My mom is here for her usual winter visit.
Recently I was talking about what a cluster fuck such and such situation was, and she wanted to know; "is that the same as a gang bang?
What?
No!

Embarrasing?

Did you ever just not feeling like showering before you run out for a quick errand?

Especially if you are just running to Wal-Mart.

Did you ever just feel like going on a late night snack run in your jammies?

With your hair all sticking up on one side and matted down from the couch pillows on the other.

Did you ever ask your husband, while standing over the cakes display, in your jammies, with your hair all jacked up, and chipped toe nail polish prominently displayed in your self-bedazzled flip flops, if you are embarrassing him?

And did he ever reply, “No, I’ll just tell people you’re my retarded little sister.” ?

Did that ever happen to you?

Diamonds, Guns and Other Holiday Traditions

One of my favorite rituals when I was a kid was decorating the tree. I loved it as I got old enough to totally take over the decorating, and later in my own little apartments where I always themed my trees.

My first year out of my mother’s house, my roommate and I, broke from paying the rent on our basement apartment near the Ohio State University, decorated our stolen tree with airplane sized liquor bottles. (She was older than me and could drink stuff a little harder than Little Kings.)

This Christmas my husband and I drank wine from our recent Napa trip while decorating our blue and green themed tree. This is something I would like to do every year, uh, make that every Saturday night. (Drinking wine from Napa that is; not putting up a tree.)

However, there was a wee bit of contention over the ball distribution. My husband thinks he’s an expert on balls, while I am quite certain that I have had a lot more experience handling them than he. Yes he knows that they have to be handled with care; especially the older ones that have been in the family awhile, but it takes a woman’s touch to properly place the balls. After all one does not want one’s balls banging together and getting all scratched up.

But I digress.

While I theme the trees, he enjoys giving themed gifts. I must admit I have been the benefactor of his thoughtful bundles of packages. One of my favorite years was the diamond themed Christmas of 2008. Thank you baby, hope you liked your tie.

He has also shared with me his holiday tradition of watching A Christmas Story, and it has now become our tradition. It’s the story of a little boy who wants his own Red Rider BB Gun, but his mother fears he will shoot out his eye.

After our last visit to my father-in-law’s where I tired of shooting the air rifle and proceeded to totally destroy an innocent plastic target by blasting it from about twenty feet with a twelve gauge shotgun that left a hell of a bruise on my body, I now have a desire for my own pump action gun.

Will Santa bring me diamonds or guns this Christmas? Who is to say, for I feel I only deserve coal. Perhaps I would shoot my eye out, although it’s more likely I’d dislocate a shoulder, but making dust out of clay pigeons sure sounds fun.

Maybe we could even use the old ornaments that have lost their luster for targets. Hurray for our new holiday traditions; drinking fine wine, erecting our tree and shooting balls. Merry Christmas everyone.

Boots and Scarves

Another Black Friday

I drug myself out of the house at 11:00 p.m. Thanksgiving night and went to work an overnight shift at a department store that opened at twelve a.m. Black Friday.

What we do for money is way worse than what we do for love.

I have never participated in the shopping frenzy of that famed day, and the only other time I ever worked retail on that day was in my own shop. (We never got out of the red or I wouldn’t be typing this now.)

Seriously, it was stupid is as stupid does sir. People stood in line for hours to get in. Nearly ran us over when they did. Grabbed one or two door busters, and stood in line for at least two more hours to pay for their items.

Two days earlier, I went shopping with my husband, took a store coupon, opened the store credit card just to get the discount and paid less than all the door buster shoppers who didn’t have coupons or open the card. I will pay the card off and there you go; bob’s your uncle.

And why with all the online Black Friday specials would you even consider standing in lines like that with a belly full of turkey? I received email alerts from just about every store in the land offering me free shipping, discounts prices and satisfaction guaranteed.

I even got Black Friday special offers from the spam emailers hawking Viagra and enlargement supplements… Talk about satisfaction guaranteed!

You know… my little town just got our very own “Adult Toy Store”, I wonder what kind of holiday specials they’ve got UP for sale in there:

Jingle Balls

Santa’s Little Butt Plugs

Santa’s Little Helper (It’s a vibrator, get it?)

Mistletoe for Your Camel Toe

Stocking Fluffers

Jingle Bell Cock (It plays the famed Christmas song while you use it.)

Sugar Hung Fairies

The North Hole

Jack Off In A Box

Surprise Packages

Three Wide Men

We Wish You a Hairy Christmas (Your guess is as good as mine.)

And in the DVD section:

I’m Dreaming of a Wet Christmas

I’ve Have a Blue Balls Christmas Without You

Mary Hole on 42nd Street

All I Want for Christmas is Two New Titties

A Charlie Brown Eye Christmas

Rudolph the Red Boned Reindeer

Oh and last but not least…

The Little Hummer Boy

Dancing with J.R. Martinez

J.R. Martinez, my favorite contestant on this season of Dancing With the Stars, won the trophy on last’s night finale. Yeah, I love to watch J.R. dance, but mostly it’s his smile that is so engaging.

His positive spirit is so inspirational, especially to someone like me with a predilection towards grumpy.

He is a veteran, injured in the war, who went on to a role on the soap All My Children, being a motivational speaker, and now dance champion. He makes me want to give up complaining… almost.

The last couple years as I have been struggling to get in shape, I have been joking with people that I wanted to be on Dancing with the Stars by time I’m 50; I don’t know how I’ll become a star by then, but that will be the easy part compared to losing the weight. (BTW, Go Ricki, Go Ricki.)

But dancing the night away, adorned in glitter and rhinestones is a personal goal.

As is being a contestant on Top Shot, a rootin', tootin', shoot em up show where the only bling is from bullets hitting metal targets.

I am nothing if not ecletic.

Am I dreaming when I wish for fame via reality t.v? Perhaps, but what fun is life without dreams. I just hope I don’t end up on Dirty Jobs.

My Dog Is In a Box In The Garage

Cat people are absolutely bat shit crazy.

Keeping my dog’s ashes in a box in the garage for ten years because I can’t bear to part with them makes perfect sense.

At least they’re not in a pink tin tea pot on a shelf above my stove, where my friend, a bat shit crazy cat person, keeps Mittens, a Hemingway cat that I swear I have tasted in my Earl Grey on certain visits to her house.

I used to keep my dog in the tire well of my trunk. That’s where they put him when I picked up the box from the vet and for a couple of years I just left him there. I figured it was ok because he loved to go for car rides.

He was a good ole dog. Even though he “allegedly” bit the mail man the day I brought him home from the pound, I kept him anyway. I was already in love.

Even though he had seizures that required twice daily meds; even though he never bit the boyfriend that was pilfering the doggy Phenobarbital, I kept him anyway.

And even now nearly twelve years after he died, I still have dreams that he is alive. Usually I wake up feeling really bad because I haven’t walked him in twelve years and then I realize it was just a dream.

My sister adopted my cat, my dog’s little brother, before I moved to Florida. So I was not there when he died. She took good care of him till the end, but she is the practical sort, still bat shit crazy, but not a keeper of animal ashes.

My husband and I plan on getting a dog one day, but can’t work it out just yet; travel, jobs etc. I’ve thought about another cat but my husband only likes them in his General Tso’s not in his house. But maybe this little video will change his mind.

Can’t you just picture these little darlings in a teapot one day?



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