Thursday, December 29, 2005

Damn, I Never Get Tired of Talking About Myself

i got tagged by, and i know you all are RIVETED by the details of my exciting life, so read on and wish you were me.

Four jobs you've had in your life:
1.) cashier at House of Fabrics - aka the Seventh Ring of Hell
2.) customer service manager for a mail order company - my therapist won't let let me talk about this job if i am unmedicated.
3.) god, i can't believe i am admitting to this, but i was once one of the people in the mall that ask you to take surveys. please don't hate me.
4.) cashier at a cafeteria. most miserable job, ever. this was in my early 20's when i was going out to bars with my friends 4 nights a week. i would stay out until 4am and go to work at 6am. often, i would fall asleep with my face on the cash register and wake up to find button imprints on my face. surprisngly, i was never made Employee of the Month.

Four movies you could watch over and over:
1.) sixteen candles - two words. Jake Ryan.
2.) rebecca - is it wrong that Mrs. Danvers is my role model?
3.) breakfast club - i still haven't resolved my teen angst issues, apparently.
4.) clerks - still makes me laugh, 2546 viewings later.

Four places you've lived:
1.) los angeles - as my friend martha jean says, that's it. that's the list. been here my whole life.

Four TV shows you love to watch:
1.) 24 - i just recently got into this show. jack bauer gives me girl wood. oh, and it's a good show, too. yeah.
2.) Arrested Development - can't watch this without Tivo because i keep having to rewind and make sure i heard what i thougt i heard. but, buster does NOT give me girl wood.
3.) L O S T - yeah, i'm hooked. shoot me before i start analyzing the meaning of Walt's orange shirt. does that mean he is dead and in the fiery flames of hell? or does it mean he is being hidden in an orange grove? oooooo, too many theories, my head hurts.
4.) Degrassi: the Next Generation - i really have issues with teen drama shows. god, i need help.

Four websites you visit daily:
1.) - DUH, who doesn't?
2.) - the greatest knitting web site in the whole wide world. another gem that turned me on to and i am forever grateful.
3.) there's this John Mayer message board that i read but don't post on. lots of pics. it's my daily porn.
4.) eBay - always looking for those yarn deals.

Four of your favorite foods:
1.) french fries - hot, greasy, lightly salted. yum.
2.) John Mayer's Forearms - hot, greasy, lightly salted. yum
3.) Nacho Chesse Doritos - i can eat my body weight in these. it's a proven fact.
4.) refried beans - i can eat these every day and often do. damn, now i'm hungry.

Four places you'd rather be:
1.) London
2.) New York
3.) my bed
4.) John Mayer's bed (oh c'mon, who didn't see that one coming?)

Four albums you can't live without:
1.) Duran Duran - Greatest Hits
2.) Guns N' Roses - Appetite for Destruction
3.) The Killers - Hot Fuss
4.) INXS - Listen Like Thieves

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

Why It's A Good Thing I Don't Want Kids - Reason #4587

i decided that if i ever did have a kid, i would name it RikiTikiTavi, just like the mongoose. and i don't care if it's a boy or a girl, it's name would be RikiTikiTavi. and i would NOT let people call it Riki. nope, i would force them to say the whole thing.

go on, say it. it's really fun. RikiTikiTavi. now, you will be saying it all day. it's addictive.

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Tag! I'm It!

ok, since no one in the blogosphere cares enough to tag me *sniff sniff* i am tagging myself. that and i am just lazy right now.

1.) one of my top 3 favorite songs of all time is "dragula" by rob zombie.
2.) my feet are abnormally large considering my height.
3.) i can't watch movies that have bugs in them.
4.) i only buy juvenile sheets (tweety, nemo, winnie the pooh, etc.)
5.) i am a compulsive knitter and for me, surfing online yarn stores is like a 16 year old boy surfing for porn.
6.) no one has seen my natural hair color in 16 years.
7.) i am a staunch liberal who believes in the death penalty.
8.) i am addicted to "text twist."
9.) i have 2 tattoos.
10.) my tivo is my bestest friend in the whole wide world.

1.) beirut, lebanon
2.) atlanta, georgia
3.) boston, mass
4.) hawaii
5.) new york
6.) washington dc
7.) san francisco, ca
8.) iowa
9.) minnesota

1.) buy me yarn or nacho cheese doritos
2.) quote "arrested development" lines to me
3.) know exactly what i mean when i say, "i am having a mrs. danvers kind of day."
4.) rub my shoulders
5.) cook for me.
6.) send me text messages when you see that john mayer is going to be on tv.
7.) oh hell, just be john mayer.
8.) laugh at my stupid jokes.

1.) touch john mayer's forearms.
2.) go to London.
3.) talk to john irving.
4.) be able to wear a size 8 for more than one week.
5.) win the lotto.
6.) caress john mayer's forearms.
7.) lick john mayer's forearms.

1.) getting headlice from a movie theater seat.
2.) bridges
3.) falling
4.) having stuff fall on me
5.) fire
6.) big rig trucks

1.) steak
2.) mushrooms
3.) seafood
4.) coconut
5.) nuts

1.) BO
2.) nose hair
3.) vote republican
4.) chew with your mouth open

1.) clean my toenails
2.) moisturize
3.) read

1.) john mayer's forearms
2.) french fries

1.) i need to blow dry my hair before it air dries all funky

Friday, December 16, 2005

Oh Lord, Please Let Him Be Single!!


he's so money and he doesn't even know it.

of course, from now on, every time i see a food service person without the beard condom, i will wonder if their facial hair is in my food.

this pic was sent to me by my friend, Sherri. i now have friends and family doing guerilla photography for me. i am such a bad influence.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

I SWEAR I Don't Live in the Ghetto

at 2am on Monday morning i was snuggled in my blankies, dreaming of john mayer's forearms and a bottle of Reddi-Whip. the puppies were sleeping at my feet and all was well in my world. then, BOOM BOOM CRASH BOOM. this scared the crap out of me and the pups. the dogs jumped onto my chest and started barking like maniacs. ouch.

i ran outside to see what was going on. apparently, a police chase had ended right in front of my house. i saw a truck turned over on it's side and two cop cars. the truck had hit one of my neighbor's trucks and totally creamed it. all his tools that had been in the back were now scattered all over the street. now, this particular neighbor is rumored to film porn movies in his house. this is really not all that shocking as we are in the San fernando Valley, the Porn Capital of the USA. i'm just glad the tools in the truck were from his day job and not from this other line of work. really, who wants to see dildoes and cock rings all over their street at 2am?

so, there i am looking like 10 miles of dead sexy in my bunny print pajama bottoms and my Winnie the Pooh sweatshirt. i'm just glad the news cameras weren't there yet, because you just know that's the shot of me that would be on the next morning's newscast.

the cops shoo us all back into our houses. i go back inside and the dogs are FLIPPING OUT. my poor puppies were born in the sticks and spent the first 7 months of their lives in relative peace and quiet. now they have to learn to live with high speed police chases. it's been a bit of an adjustment for them. but in six months time, when the cops bust the porn neighbor, i know the pups will be able to sleep right thru all the commotion. that's my hope, anyway.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

Ok, Who Set the Time Machine for 1974?

i actually saw this in a local restaurant this week.


Monday, December 05, 2005

There is a 2 Drink Minimum in My Family

Apparently, the drinking gene skipped a generation in my family. My great-grandmother, mother and I can all drink like fish. My granny, not so much. She doesn’t like the taste of alcohol and almost never drinks. But the few times she has gotten drunk have been memorable, to say the least.

When I was 5 years old, she took me with her to a friend’s wedding. Granny had like maybe 3 glasses of champagne and was hammered. Because the church was close to the house, we had walked there. On the walk home, granny was lurching from telephone pole to telephone pole, barely able to walk. And always being the little helper that I am, I was skipping down the street ahead of her, singing at the top of my lungs, “Grandma’s drunk! Grandma’s drunk!” I am sure the neighbors appreciated my town crier impersonation at 11 0’clock at night.

The only other time she got rip roaring drunk was about 20 years ago, she and grandpa went out to a bar with another couple. The wife told my granny that Singapore Slings tasted just like punch, and she should try those. Well, she did and she liked them. Liked them so much, she drank them all night long. She says she didn’t feel drunk at all and thought she had finally found a drink she could tolerate. Until she stood up. Then she knew she was blitzed. (isn’t that a great feeling?)

Grandpa drove her home in his 1965 Mustang and while he was on Sunset Blvd. another car gunned it’s engine. Granny took this as a challenge and turned to my grandpa and said, “Race him, Louie! You can beat him!” The thought of my grandparents drag racing down Sunset Blvd. on a Saturday night is almost more than I can bear.

That pretty much ended her illustrious drinking career. She now has zero tolerance for alcohol. A few years ago she spent the night at my house. I had drank one of my famous white trash martinis (diet vanilla coke and vanilla vodka) before bed and left the glass on the counter. There was no booze in it, just the melting ice. After I went to bed, granny decided she wanted a glass of water. Being raised during the Depression, she learned to never waste anything. So, when she spied my glass with the ice on the counter, she put the ice in her water. She didn’t know there had been alcohol in that cup, she just thought I had drank a regular soda. Now, there had to be maybe 1/8 of a tablespoon worth of booze in that cup. Not enough to get a kitten trashed, but it was enough for granny. She wasn’t really hammered, but when she woke up the next morning, she told me she has slept so good! She didn’t know why she did, just that she slept like a baby. Then I saw my glass was in the sink and asked if she put it there. That’s when she told me about the ice and I realized she had unintentionally had herself a little night cap.

So, there are some hard learned drinking lessons that she doesn’t know about.

1.) Cool Ranch Doritos taste the same coming back up as they do going down.
2.) Three bottles of Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill will make your puke pink.
3.) Tequila shots are NEVER a good idea. Ever.
4.) After 5 martinis, you will lose all inhibitions about peeing in public.
5.) Girls cannot pee in public without getting their shoes wet.
6.) Real friends will hold back your hair when you are puking out the window of a moving car.
7.) Projectile vomit travels faster than the speed of light.
8.) If you fall out of bed after drinking 7 Lemon drop martinis, you will not even feel the landing.
9.) I am an AWESOME singer when I am hammered.
10.) The only cure for a hangover is nasty, greasy fried food.

So, obviously, my granny is fairly ignorant in the ways of hangover foods and cures. Saturday night we went to a wedding and my mom and I got shit faced. It wasn’t pretty. Just ask the limo driver or whatever poor sap gets to clean up the mess I left in that car. Not to be too gross, but let’s just say that I woke up Sunday morning with a 100% EMPTY stomach.

The next morning, I make my way to mom and granny’s hotel room to find my mom looking like 12 miles of bad road. We were twins. And both desperately in need of some greasy, fried food to cure the hangover. A grilled cheese sandwich and French fries would have been more than welcome at that moment. I said, “We need hangover food.”

Granny said, “Soup?”

Bless her sober little heart.

(p.s. i am fully aware this entry is properly capitalized. i wrote it in Word and copied it and pasted it here. so don't get used to it.)

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

My Life As A Dog

it's one thing when parents play favorites amongst siblings, but another thing altogether when you realize the family dog is higher up on the totem pole than you are. my granny has a little poodle type dog named Dolly. the world spins on it's axis merely because Dolly wishes it so. the sun rises and sets because Dolly wants it to. we all exist to serve Dolly. or so my granny thinks.

that dog lives better than most people i know. Dolly "doesn't like" regular kibble, so every week, my granny makes a chicken just for Dolly. and Dolly likes to go for car rides, but she is too short to see out the window, so Dolly has her own special doggie car seat that elevates her so she can see out the car.

one day i spent the whole afternoon at my granny's house cleaning her shower. she still gets around fairly well, but the shower needed some major elbow grease. i spent HOURS cleaning that shower. i was using a steam machine, Tilex and and some heavy duty grout cleaner. i am such a good granddaughter.

when i was done, i was sweaty, filthy, and a little high from the fumes. granny offered to make me lunch. she said, "i made a chicken for the dog and have some extra meat. i'll make you some chicken tacos."

i happily wolfed them down and then left her house. on the drive home, it occurred to me. i had gotten the dog's leftovers. and you wonder why i have low self esteem?

it's particularly disturbing to me when granny mixes up my name and the dog's name. it's really unsettling to hear her say, "i took Jelly to the groomer and they trimmed the hair out of her ears and squeezed her anal glands." let's not dwell on that mental image too long, ok?

i'm almost afraid that when granny dies and they read the will, granny will have mixed up our names again and the lawyer is going to say, "and to my beloved Dolly, i leave all my diamonds and the house." damn dog is going to make out like a bandit and i will probably inherit the doggie car seat and 3 chickens.

Sunday, November 27, 2005

Now My Granny Thinks I Am A Whore

mom and granny went to a casino today and granny hit some good jackpots. i didn't even go with them, but granny sent me $50 from her winnings. i stayed home all day, in my jammies and knitted and watched dvds.

as she was telling me this over the phone she said, "i guess it was a pretty profitable day."

i MEANT to say that it was for me and i never even had to change my clothes or leave the house.

what i said was, "yeah, it was profitable me, too. and i didn't even have to take off my pajamas!"

now, not only does she think i am a whore, she probably thinks i am a cheap whore. not even one of those nice, high priced ones. that's me, always making my family proud.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

I Am SO Going to Hell Now

and this web site is the reason why

it's a full blown addiction. i can't stop.

*note to self*
pack sunscreen. it's hot in hell.





Monday, November 21, 2005

Alligator - The Other White Meat

generally, i am not what you would call an "adventerous eater." i know what i like and i tend to stick with the same foods day in and day out. frankly, i could eat nothing but mexican food everyday for the rest of my life and be quite happy. but every once in awhile, i will try new things.

seven years ago i was in beirut, lebanon for a business trip. before i left i made a vow to myself that i would try any new foods i was offered. within reason, of course. sauteed monkey brains were out of the question. luckily, beirut seems to be simian free, so i never had to refuse a steaming dish of monkey gray matter. but i did try loads of stuff and most of it i loved. shwarma was awesome and the crepes i had in beirut were the best i have ever had. it's really worth the trip to a war torn country just for the belgian chocolate, banana filled crepes. trust me on this one.

while there, i went to a fashion show and there was an amazing spread of food. i dived right in, didn't ask any questions and just sampled everything.

there were these golf ball sized brown pastry-looking things. it looked like some kind of dessert puff, so i popped one in my mouth, expecting chocolatey goodness. it was a breaded beef meatball. do you know how unsettling it is when your tongue is expecting chocolate and it's really beef?

further on down the buffet line, i saw these croissant looking rolls. i was expecting something very exotic and lebanese. feeling oh so proud of my found adventerous streak, i bit right into one. it was a pig in a blanket. i traveled halfway across the fucking world for pigs in a blanket. oooooo, i felt so continental.

flash forward to the present day. last night, i went to dinner with some friends. we went to what is supposed to be the best, most authentic cajun restaurant in los angeles. oh, it was authentic, all right. take a peek at the menu.

it just jumps right out at you, doesn't it? alligator. i kind of got the shivers when i saw it, and before i could make some smart assed comment, Todd ordered it. and he was serious. so, i tried some. and guess what? yup, it tastes like chicken. hell, i am just glad no one ordered the frog legs, because, seriously, i drawn the line at that shit. that's just nasty.

and in case you were wondering, this is what gator nuggets look like.

as you can see, Cathy was completely horrifed at the wanton gator consumption and wanted no part of it.

this place serves wine, but not in wine glasses. it comes in little mason jars.
i know you are supposed to drink red wine with beef and white wine with fish. having never heard the etiquette regarding what kind of wine to drink with gator, i opted for pinot grigio. three glasses of it, apparently. hey, if i am going to eat a fucking reptile, i am going to need to be just a little hammered.

towards the end of dinner, Damon went to the men's room, came right back out and grabbed my camera. knowing he has the exact same sense of humor as i do, i knew it had to be something good. and it was. in that bathroom was a painting i like to call "the gayest painting ever in the history of the whole wide world."

it's like a maplethorpe, but with football uniforms. and no whips up the ass, but very similar, don't you think?

ah yes, deep fried gator chunks and homoerotic sports paintings. just another saturday night in LA.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Why Drugs and Architecture Don't Mix

can we talk for a second about the assholes that designed my house? it was built in the 1970's and the drug culture was still alive and well. lots and lots of drugs and more drugs are the only explanation i can come up with for the reasoning behind some of the features in my home.

first, and most importantly, i have no light fixtures. the bathrooms and the kitchen have built in lighting and that's it. none in the bedrooms. none in the living room. none in the dining room. NONE. the people that built my house were tripping on so much acid and the imaginary colors they saw were so bright, they just figured the lighting situation was taken care of, i guess. as a result, i live a life of many, many lamps. many lamps.

and you have to walk deep into a room to get to the lamp, so i spend a lot of time stumbling around in the dark, stubbing my toes and swearing like a sailor.

i have only lived in this house for 4 years, which means for the last 30 years before that, none of the other owners ever thought to add in a light fixture. jesus h christ, why must i do everything? someone please pass me a quualude.

then there's the trees. the fucking trees. i hate my trees. hate them.

see, we have about 12 fruit trees. and before you get all excited and think, "oh wow! fruit trees! that's GREAT! fresh sqeezed orange juice in the mornings. fresh lemons for homemade lemonade. YUM!" you have to realize that none of my fruit trees bear fruit that i would ever eat.

let's start with the guava tree. do you have idea how badly a guava tree smells? DO? YOU? and lucky, lucky me, that tree is right outside my bedroom window. rock on.

then we have a few crab apple trees. who the hell eats crab apples? god almighty, no one needs 4592 crab apples every year. most useless little fucking fruits on the planet. even the squirrels won't eat them.

and let's not forget the 3 or 4 chinese grapefruit trees. yes, you read that correctly, chinese grapefruit. no one has even heard of this, let alone eaten it. the fruit is HUGE, like the size of my head huge. and each fruit weighs about 5 pounds. it is mostly rind and once you cut that away, you are rewarded with a fist sized hunk of really dry grapefruit. no, none for me, thanks.

the fig tree is appreciated by one person in my life, though. my granny LOVES my fig tree and she will go outside and just stand there eating those things as fast as she can pick them. she even inventories my tree. one time she came over and asked where "that really big fig" was. i was like, "what the fuck are you talking about? how the hell do i know? i don't eat those nasty ass things and i sure as hell don't keep track of them!" (well, i did say that, but without all the swearing and all the attitude. because she WILL hit me, ya know)

it seems a week earlier she had spotted a fig that was not quite ripe, but she knew it would be in a few days. so, she came looking for it and it was GONE! Detective Granny McSleuth was on the case. she examined the ground around the tree and started looking at the bottom of our shoes. apparently, there was a footprint on the ground that did not belong to any of us. that's when Detective Granny McSleuth surmised that people off the street were coming into my yard and stealing her precious figs. she strongly encouraged me to get a lock for my front gate, fire safety laws be damned! then she got her own crime show entiteld CSI: RESEDA.

and last, but not least, there is the persimmon tree. i personally do not eat persimmons and neither does my mother. usually, the fruit falls to the ground and rots, or gets eaten by squirrels. fine by me. i don't care.

but someone else DOES care. and now we have a "persimmon situation" at my house.


this is the scene at my house all day, every day. Daphne is hooked on the persimmons. like she needs a 12 step program kind of hooked. seriously, as soon as i get home and let the Asassins out of their kennel, she bolts right for the tree and starts eating the persimmons that have fallen on the ground. she doesn't even stop and beg me to pet her. nope, she makes a beeline right for the tree. her personal best was 4 in one day. and that's only because i finally stopped her. it's to the point where she gorges herself on fruit and then doesn't want to eat her dry food. well, at least i iknow she'll never get scurvy.

the downside to this is that persimmons only bear fruit a few weeks a year. in a bout 2 more weeks, that tree is going to be bare and i don't know how Daphne is going to handle this. how do you explain "seasons" to a dog?

so, in order to prepare her for a persimmon-less winter, i sat her down and told her they would be gone soon, but would be back next September. she was, of course, crushed.


so if anyone knows how to get persimmons year round, please let me know. otherwise the dog might not eat again until next year. and i have grown rather fond of her.

Monday, November 07, 2005

His License Plates Reads, "Hi, I'm An Asshole."


COWPOOH? what the fuck is that supposed to mean? is it a play on the word 'bullshit?' what kind of butt nugget wants to drive around every day with a license plate that says COWPOOH?

and how did this slip past the DMV? they are supposed to prohibit obscene personalized plates. if you think your personalized plate might be construed as obscene, you can explain the meaning, and if the DMV buys your story, they will send you the plate. so, what was his story? did he tell them that his family made their millions in the manure business and that this was his homage to his dearly departed grandfather? or did he tell them that his twin brother died in a tragic cow tipping accident when he slipped on cow pooh and the cow tipped over onto him, killing him instantly and this was how he wanted to honor his brother's memory? either way, someone at the DMV is a freakin' idiot. as if we didn't know that already.

i'm going to apply for a plate that says FUCKOFF and tell the DMV that it really means i had a friend named FUCKO and we were supposed to be FriendsForever (FUCKO FF) and he died in a freak blender accident and this is how i want to remember him. they will totally believe me, too.

Friday, November 04, 2005

Angry Jelly is BACK! And She is PISSED!

ok, to say i have been having a shitty week would be an understatment. on tuesday, i had to rip out 4 days worth of knitting because of some badly picked up stitches and i had food poisoning on thursday. those are just some of the highlights.

so, i figure today cannot possibly be any worse. well, fuck me running, i thought wrong.

The Coca Cola Co. announced today that they are discontinuing Diet Vannila Coke.

I know, it sounds preposterous! Oh God, look at me, I'm so upset, I am using actual CAPITAL letters. THAT'S how upset i am, people! rat bastard, sons of bitches, motherfucking, cocksucking ASSHOLES!

Diet Vanilla Coke is MY SOLE REASON FOR LIVING some days. and i am NOT being overly dramatic!! now i am going to have to become the crazy hoarding lady. i will spend this coming weekend going from store to store, buying ALL the DVC i can get my sweaty little hands on. i don't know where i am going to store it all, as my house is just tee tiny, but, as they say, necessity is the mother of invention. or some shit like that.

maybe i could stack the cases, shellac them together and build furniture. then, as i need the soda, i could just dismantle a chair or a futon. this could work.

between this and the food poisoning, that is now TWICE this week that i have been on my bathroom floor, in the fetal position, crying and begging for the release of sweet, sweet death.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Oh God, People Are Going To Start Calling Me "Stinky" Now, Aren't They?

yesterday, i was leaving work and got in the elevator. a co-worker got on and we made that banal, meaningless chit chat that you do. i mentioned that i had to stop at the gas station because i had basically fumed it into work that morning. she joked that i better not turn on my A/C and i should hope the whole trip was downhill. ha ha ho ho. end of gasoline talk.

we get off the elevator and walk across the lobby to the parking garage elevators. we had been alone up until then. at this point, more people join us. PEOPLE WHO WERE NOT PRIVVY TO THE GASOLINE DISCUSSION. her elevator comes and she gets on. right before the doors close, she looks at me and says, "Good luck with your gas!"

i could see the people around me looking at me out of the corner of their eyes. yes, me, the girl with the gas.

and i whispered, "gasoline. she meant gasoline. we were talking about gasoline."

i don't think they believed me, though.

Monday, October 31, 2005

Tips For Halloween 2006 - Just to Get A Jump Start


1.) you are dressed as a hobo and your beard stubble is real.

2.) you look at your watch at exclaim, "damn! it's 8pm!" not because 8pm is your curfew, but because 8pm is the time you are supposed to take your birth control pill every night.

3.) you can drive yourself from house to house.

4.) you are dressed in a suit and tie and your costume is "business man." but that's what you wore to work today.

5.) your cell phone rings while trick or treating and it is your boss asking if you remembered to put the cover sheet on your TPS report.

6.) your costume requires an underwire bra. and it fits.

7.) your circa 1985 Skeletor costume is the same one you wore in 3rd grade.

8.) you get a woody when the lady of the house answers the doorbell. and then you hit on her by saying "trick or TREAT" while grabbing your crotch.

9.) you are concerned that the caramel candies will pull out your fillings.

10.) you get some Hershey's Kisses and think, "those would be a great garnish for my chocolate martini tonight!"

Thursday, October 27, 2005

I Love All Animals, Except For One

some friends of ours are on vacation this week, so i have been going to their house on my lunch hour and walking their dog. i love this dog and threaten to dognap her everytime i see her. Patches is the sweetest, cutest wiggle butt-ed dog in the world. don't tell my pups i said that, but it's true.

how can you NOT love that face? i mean, really.

when her owners come back from their cruise, i already have my story planned. "well, gosh, i don't know what happened. she just got away from me and i never saw her again. {insert sob} oh, and on a side note, you can never come to my house again, either." i have already started practicing my "innocent and bewildered face" in the mirror. i think they are totally going to buy my story.

then, at the other end of the spectrum, is their cat, Woody. this cat scares the bejesus out me. he hisses at me constantly and the look in his eyes says, "let me feast on the tender flesh of your neck."

see? i'm right, aren't i? that is the face of evil.

this is what he looks like most of the time. bloodthirsty and ready to kill.

what scares me most is when he "purrs" and rubs up against my legs. i scream like a little girl and jump about 3 feet into the air when he does that. he is a furry little terrorist and i am wholly convinced he lays awake nights plotting WWIII.

normally, i love all animals and they love me. introduce me to a snarling 150 pound rottweiler, and within 5 minutes he will be my new best friend and will be on his back getting a belly rub. but Woody, well, he's satan and if there's one thing i learned in catholic school, it was to never make friends with the devil. because he will steal your soul. and so will Woody.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

There is a REASON Chuck E Cheese Serves Beer

ah yes, a glorious saturday afternoon spent at Chuck E Cheese. it really is an experience like none other. small, sticky children running around, hopped up on Mr. Pibb and cake. bright lights, clanging bells, and the non stop "beep beep beep" of the myriad of video games and rides. yes, i have been to hell and lived to tell the tale.

and apparently, in hell, we have dinner theater.

at Chuck's it all boils down to the Almighty Ticket. you spend $40 buying tokens, which the kids feed into the games and the games spew out tickets which the kids trade in for cheap ass prizes. $40 in tokens translates into $1.98 plastic pair of sunglasses. god bless capitalism.

we were there for my best friend's youngest daughter's birthday party. (this is not the one that peed in the dressing room. Puddles is the middle child. keep up, people.) i knew we were in for an afternoon of screaming kids, bad pizza and even worse entertainment. part of the birthday package includes an appearance by Chuck himself at the table. the hostesses told the kids that if they danced with Chuck, they would get TICKETS. so all the little girls promptly jumped up and started dancing with the six foot mouse. hhmmm, so let's recap, shall we? what have our girls learned today? oh yes, they have learned to dance with strangers for money! they need to change their slogan to, "Chuck E Cheese: Where a Lap Dancer Can Be A Kid!"

the look on the hostess' face says it all, doesn't it. "shoot me. shoot me now. if i have to do the Hand Jive ONE.MORE.TIME, i will kill myself and everyone within a 4 mile radius. i'm serious. and i'm taking the fucking mouse out first."

i can't wait til these girls are old enough to have their birthday parties in real bars like normal people.

Friday, October 21, 2005

Sorry, Mom, But the Truth MUST Be Told

i was attempting to open a plastic package the other day. i tugged at it, i pulled, i used my teeth, all to no avail. it quickly became clear to me that i was going to need scissors. so, i go the DESIGNATED SCISSOR SPOT, and to my shock, the scissors were not there. i was convinced that my mother had used them and failed to return them to the DESIGNATED SCISSOR SPOT. that's when the swearing started, and i wasn't being real quiet about it, either.

"goddamit! why can't she put the fucking scissors back in the fucking DESIGNATED SCISSOR SPOT when she is done with them? how fucking hard is that? is that too much to fucking ASK??!?!"

it continued in this vein as i tore thru the junk drawer, rifled the desk and searched the mail basket. at this point, the dogs looked at one another and i am fairly certain i heard one whisper to the other, "oh fuck. we got adopted a fucking nut job." (i really don't know where they picked up that kind of language. no more HBO for them!) then they ran outside, planning their escape, no doubt.

now, it might seem that i was overreacting given the situation. but you see, we have ISSUES in my house when it comes to putting things back where they belong. take the dairy products, for example. now *i* believe that once you have poured your milk, the milk carton should be returned to the fridge within 5 minutes. my mother, on the hand, does not subscribe to this belief system. she will leave the milk or butter on the counter for HOURS. as i actively try to avoid food poisoning whenever possible, this is a slight bone of contention between us.

the other day, i had a violent headache and my back was hurting. comfort food was obviously the only cure. so i decided to make some Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. because really, is there anything more comforting than that package of magic cheese dust? i think not.

i get the butter out of the fridge. this is a tub of whipped butter. it should be so light and airy that you can scoop it out with a mere flick of the spoon. not in my house. this thing had been left out and re-refrigerated so many times that it was now as hard as granite. i had to use a knife to chisel out chunks of it. little butter bits were flying all over the kitchen. i FINALLY manage to excavate the 4 tablespoons worth that i needed. needless to say, i was cursing up a storm the whole time.

if you ever come to my house and my mom offers you milk and buttered toast, do yourself a favor and JUST SAY NO!

given our history with things not being put back into the proper place, i was convinced she had mislaid the scissors. i could not find them anywhere and resorted to using a screwdriver to shred the plastic. i was NOT happy, let me tell you.

later that night, i was getting ready for bed. what do i spy with my little eye? the scissors. in my bedroom. where i had left them the day before. and my dresser is not the DESIGNATED SCISSOR SPOT.

i'm a fucking moron. but, i'm still right about the dairy products. SO THERE!

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

The Betrayal Of the Uterus

flipping thru the channels. another exciting night for me, oh yeah. what's this? a Seinfeld rerun? ooooo, George Costanza is looking H-O-T hot!. work those Dockers, Georgie boy, work them! this is getting too hot for me, i better change the channel. hhmm, "Everybody Loves Raymond." well, JELLY loves Raymond, big daddy. what a man, what a man, what a mighty fine man. damn, i better see what's on cable. yeah baby, a Pauly Shore movie. DUDE!

yup, i must be ovulating. that time of the month when EVERY man looks good. a dangerous time, indeed. men i would not look twice at on any other day all of a sudden become tasty little man meat morsels. for these few days, i become easy like a sunday morning. my body is screaming at me to PROCREATE ALREADY, DAMMIT. and this unnatural attraction to anything with an adam's apple is just nature's way of trying to knock me up.

i have never been pregnant and don't ever want to be. can someone please get the memo to my womb before i start hitting on that guy from "King of Queens?"

Saturday, October 15, 2005

She Was A Small Town Girl With Big City Dreams



NAME: Roxie

BUST: Multiple Nipples. WAIST: Trim and Slim. HIPS: Muscular.

HEIGHT: Knee High. WEIGHT: A Lady Never Tells.

BIRTHDATE: 3-21-05 BIRTHPLACE: Taft, California

AMBITIONS: To make sure my sister, Daphne, receives no affection or attention whatsover. To chew every piece of furniture I can get my paws on. And world peace.

TURN ONS: Beefy bones, Kongs, pig ears, and kibble.

TURN OFFS: Hearing, "NO! BAD CHEW!" a million times a day. Sharing my toys with my sister. Cats.


Friday, October 14, 2005

What NOT To Get Me For My Birthday


my birthday is next month and if you gave these to me as a gift, i would beat you to death with them.

there is just so much ugly there, i don't know where to start snarking. the maribou? the zebra print? the badly tied bow? then there's the toes. oh yes, nothing says class like fake toes.

even scarier is the fact that i took this pic at a fairly nice department store. hell, i think the regional buyer at Big Lots! would laugh at these and say, "are you fucking kidding me? we have a reputation to uphold." then he would order 3 more gross of the Bubba Tub of salsa.

Thursday, October 13, 2005



yup, the're chewers, alright. in two days the little assasins managed to take out one coffee table and a sofa cushion. one of them was puking up foam from the sofa cushion (aren't you glad i didn't take a pic of that?) so, for their own protection, we got them a big ass outdoor kennel.

hey, don't feel bad for them. they got three hots and a cot. but no cable tv.

Monday, October 10, 2005

The Best Tattoo, EVER!

i have two tattoos. before i got them, i thought long and hard about the designs. i knew they would be permanent and i needed to make sure i wanted to live with these works of art on my body until the day i die. i love my tattoos and would not change a thing about them.

others have not put as much thought into theirs, i am fairly certain.

yesterday, mom and i went to an indoor swap meet. this place deserves a blog entry of it's own and soon as i can get back there with my real camera, you too will experience the joy that is the Valley Indoor Swap Meet. trust me, it will be worth the wait.

anyway, while we were browsing the aisles of crap, i spotted a girl walking in front of me. she was wearing low rise pants and a crop tee, so her lower back tattoo was in full view for all to enjoy.

do you want to know what it said?

i know you do.

wait for it.

it's coming.

are you ready?

you sure?

her tramp stamp was a tattoo that said "Exit Only" and had a little arrow pointing down at her ass. hand to god.

i DESPERATELY wanted to take a picture and even stalked her thru a few aisles with my Sidekick, but i knew the pic would be fuzzy at best. i wanted a pic of that one so bad that i seriously considered going up to her and asking if i could take a picture of it. i would have to pretend that i really liked her tattoo. but then she might want to talk about it and i would have to stand there talking about anal sex with a stranger at the swap meet and i just could not bring myself to do that. plus, she looked kind of scary and i was pretty sure she could kick my ass if she figured out that i didn't really like her tattoo. and i ain't getting my ass beat just to get a picture.

i try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, so i thought maybe that tattoo was the evidence of one, bad drunken night. but then realized that her oufit was specifically chosen to show off the tattoo. she was proud of it.

then i pondered the purpose of the tattoo. were men constantly trying to fuck her in the ass without her permission? how often was she in the position (pun inteneded) for this to be an issue? well, she and her boyfriend did look like lowlife speed freaks, so maybe she does spend a lot of time passed out in the company of strangers.

she better hope she never goes to prison, that's all i gotta say. let's say i get sent to prison for finally beating someone else's child at the mall (and really, we all know it's just a matter of time until that happens.) and when i get to prison, i have all kinds of power because i have the smokes. if some fresh meat came onto my cell block with a tat like that, i would have my bitches ram things up her ass just to be ironic. (did i ever mention that my mom left me watch "Prison: Cell Block H" when i was a child?)

Exit Only, indeed.

Saturday, October 08, 2005

My New Babies!

we got our new puppies today. they are 7 month old sisters, half pit and half lab. envy the cuteness.

this is Roxie.

this is Daphne. she was watching me eat french fries, hence the long drool slobber hanging from her mouth there.

Monday, October 03, 2005

And The Dumbass I Will Be Making Fun of Today, Well, That Would Be Me

you always hear how a true genius can solve a quantun physics equation in 2.8 seconds, yet the same person can be so totally absent-minded that they forget to wear underwear. i think i am that kind of person. well, that's my story and i am sticking to it. genius in so many ways, yet unable to operate machinery without adult supervision.

last friday, i went to Bath & Body Works, also known as the poor woman's Sephora. i "found" a new scent that i fell in love with and immediately purchased the shower gel, body lotion, body splash and tube of body cream. or, so i thought. i buy the lotion to keep in the bathroom for after shower use and the cream i keep on my nightstand for nighttime hand and feet application. i loved this scent so much, that as soon as i got home i took a shower just so i could use all my new products and go to bed smelling mega yummy. before i went to bed, i slathered the cream on my feet and noticied that it felt kind of sticky. but i just shrugged it off and went to bed.

the next night, i was telling my friend, kate, about this great new scent from B&BW. i grabbed the tube of body cream so that i could tell her the exact name. when i told her the scent was Cotton Blossom, she laughed her ass off and proceeded to tell me that i had indeed smelled it before. in fact, it was when she and i went on vacation together back in March. maybe the fact that i was sidewalk licking drunk the whole vacation is why i have no recollection of ever having seen this stuff.

to futher compound my stupidity, as we were laughing at me, i looked at the tube again and realized it was NOT body cream. it was body wash. i had slathered body wash on my feet the night before and happily gone to sleep. i tend to sweat while i sleep (i'm painting a sexy, sexy picture, aren't i?) god knows, my feet probably lathered up in the middle of the night and i slept right thru it.

how i manage to walk and chew gum at the same time is nothing short of miraculous.

Saturday, October 01, 2005

The Only Thing Missing Was The Popcorn

just got back from a rockin' saturday night at my local Target. (deanna, i TOLD you my life is far from uber glam. do you believe me now?) that may sound boring, but damn, i had a good time. a mother and daughter were standing in the middle of the aisle having a screaming fight. the mom was in her 50's and the daughter looked to be in her late 20's or early 30's. this fight was so good that at one point, i turned my cart around and just stood there watching them, not even pretending to be looking at the Purex display.

the mother kept walking away and screaming back at the daughter. here are some choice snippets from ScreamFest '05.

daughter: "you can just go straight to hell!"
mother: "do you want me to keep screaming at you?"
daughter: "if you throw that thing and it hits my kid, you WILL be sorry!"
mother: "this is why i hate shopping with you!"

i bet Mother's Day at their house is just a hoot and a half.

this was screamed at full volume for the enjoyment of all Target shoppers. i LOVE IT when people fight in public. really, it just amuses me to no end. and hey, if you are going to air your dirty laundry in public, don't give ME a dirty look for watching.

my mom and i don't scream at other in private, let alone in the DVD section of Target. although, we do occasionally "play bicker" when we are out shopping. and then i do this thing that pisses her off mightily. while we are bickering, i will find an empty aisle and clap my hands together very sharply so it sounds like a slap. then i scream, "mom, that hurt!!" i think this is funnier than hell. her, not so much.

Oh, She's Going to Heaven FOR SURE


apparently there is a "point system" in place that was never mentioned in the bible. when you die and go to heaven, st. peter stands there with his checklist.

WWJD bracelet = 5 points
diamond encrusted cross necklace = 10 points
license plates/holders = 20 points each

i love when i see one of these cars decked out with anti darwin bumper stickers and "god is my co-pilot" window decals and they are driving like total assholes. what happened to "do unto others?" and i am such a judgemental bitch, that when one of these cars is trying to change lanes and get in front me, i don't let them. hey, if god really wanted you to be in my lane, he would send me sign.

Sunday, September 25, 2005

Hidden Gems at Your Local BIG LOTS!

i LOVE designer shoes and handbags and will not think twice about spending $300 on a really great Kate Spade tote. but that does not mean i do not know how to economize. i have no qualms about shopping at BIG LOTS! or the 99 cent store. a can of Spagetios is a can of Spagetios no matter where you buy it. why pay $1.50 at the grocery store when you can get it for 99 cents?

however, perusing my local BIG LOTS! yesterday, i came across some items that i have never seen at my local grocer's.

when people decorate their homes with folksy roosters, do they not know that their decor can now be referred to as "Country Cock?" if i go into a house and it has roosters on the towels, plaques and dishes, i would have no choice but to exclaim, "wherever did you get that cock towel?" or "that cock on your wall looks so lifelike!" sometimes my inner 12 year old cannot be stifled.

salsa con queso in tub. not so bad, really. but the brand name is Bubba Tub. this immediately calls to mind images of some big, slovenly hillbilly in a barcalounger, eating this with off brand Fritos while watching a "Dirty Harry" marathon on the Guns and Ammo Network. actually, i just kind of described my brother.

pork hocks in a jar. why is it that only the most digusting pork parts are sold in clear glass jars? pork rinds, pickled pig's feet and pork hocks are always shown in all their glorious goriness. i guess pork chops in a jar would probably be pretty nasty, too, come to think of it. when i am president of the world, i will put a ban on all pork products in clear jars. you can thank me later.

discount condoms are never a good idea. you can stitch that on a throw pillow right now. what struck me the most about these, though, was the tagline on the box. i know the pic is a little fuzzy. (do you have any idea how hard it is to take these guerilla photographs and NOT get caught? oh how i suffer for my readers.) this multi pack of rubbers is called the "Mambo Combo" and below that it reads "Do The Dance with 8 Varieties of Your Favorite Condoms." i guess for nights when you want to get buckass wild and swing from the rafters, you would use the Salsa variety. and nights when you are feeling a little WASP-y and want to do it missionary style with the lights off, you would bust out the Country Club Bunny Hop style.

Fisher Boy Fish Portions. not even fish sticks, but fish PORTIONS. that's WAY too vague for my tastes. Fisher Boy is not yet a professional Fisher Man, so these are probably made from ALL the crap that he catches in his net. fish, rusty beer cans, used Mambo Condoms, and cigarette butts. the package actually says, "made from minced fish parts." it doesn't specify WHICH parts and that's scary. and i'm pretty sure it's not the breading that makes it Crunchy.

baby clams in a can. and this was not being marketed as cat food. the brand name is California Girl. um, i am a born and bred California Girl and i would not eat that shit on a dare. and besides, when was the last time you saw a recipe that called for canned baby clams? maybe in the Cookbook For Bulimics: Barfing Made Easy, but outside of that, eh, not so much.

check out Kashi's new Jungle Fever line of cereals. are you in an inter-racial relationship AND lacking fiber in your diet? have we got the cereal for you!
i'm guessing this was at BIG LOTS! because it was not a real big seller in the South. call it a hunch.

Sunday, September 18, 2005

Getting the Dry Heaves at JC Penney

i have known for a long time that i am not cut out for motherhood, but as i get older, i occasionally question my decison to remain childless. did i make the right choice? should i have had children? would i be a really great mother? yes, no and no, as it turns out.

my goddaughter is 9 and her sisters are 7 and 4 years old. every year i take them back to school shopping. usually, it's a really fun day. we hit all the stores, get a bunch of new clothes and have a great time. yesterday was the annual shopping spree and it started out fine. we went to the mega mall near their house and got most of the shopping done at the first store we hit. so, we break for an early lunch. it's 11:30am and all three girls wanted clam chowder for lunch. and the little freaks ate every last drop. and i had to watch them slurp down that nasty ass swill.

whilst dining, the girls asked me what foods i do and don't like. (my food issues are a whole 'nother blog entry, trust me) so, i gave them the short list of foods i don't eat. now, the middle daughter, who is 7, has been a raging carnivore since she cut her first tooth. she LOVES steak, prime rib, filet mignon, etc. when i mentioned the fact that i don't like steak, the look on her face read, "Do.Not.Compute.Error.Error." you would have thought i said i don't like oxygen. the child could truly not comprehend that someone would pass up a slab of dead cow.

we all finish eating and go to the bathroom for a potty break. i may not be mom material, but i do know that when you have kids in a public place you should make them stop at every available bathroom and make them go whether they have to or not.

off to the bookstore where they soak me for another $100. when we walked in i told them they could each get 2 books. somehow, they all walked out with 3 or 4 but i don't mind because i would rather spend the money on books than video games or some crap like that. i've been pushing books on these kids since they were born.

last stop, JC Penney. we grab some tshirts and jeans for everyone and traipse off to the dressing room to try it all on. three kids in one dressing room can be a bit chaotic, but we have a system. after everything is tried on it goes into one of three piles, the yes pile, the no pile and the maybe pile. smooth sailing. i'm starting to think i might not be half bad at this kid business. and then it all went to hell.

the 7 year old tells me she has to pee. and then, before i can even react, she loses control of her bladder and pees all over herself and the floor. she's crying hysterically, her sisters are staring at her and i am paralyzed. the kid is SOAKED. so, i lock them in the dressing room, go to the register and apologetically explain what happened and ask for a roll of paper towels so i can clean up the mess. the teeneage retail bitches behind the register look at me as if we did this on purpose. i don't have time to rip them new assholes, so i grab the towels and go back to the dressing room.

Puddles (her new nickname) is in the corner, still crying. so i am trying to calm her down and clean the carpet. finally, i get it as clean as i can and tell her to take off her clothes and we will change her into some the stuff we had bought earlier. she leaves all her clothes in a pile in the corner and changes. i go to grab the soiled clothes so i can put them in a plastic bag. as i bend over this pile of steaming, urine soaked clothes, i started dry heaving. i have a very sensitive sense of smell and this just threw me over the edge. i run to opposite corner of the dressing room, bend over and make a noise that had no vowel sounds.


even Puddles stopped crying long enough to gawk at me. now, please keep in mind that all of this is taking place in a dressing room. the kind where the walls don't go all the way up to the ceiling. everyone from Toddler Clothing to Housewares can hear me horking up the taquitos i had for lunch.

i BARELY managed to not puke all over the carpet and finally get the clothes into a plastic bag. still heaving a little, i hold the bag out to the 9 year old and ask her to tie a knot in the top of the bag. she's completely grossed out and says, "No way! Have her do it!" and points to her youngest sister. now, the youngest one has a sense of smell like mine. i turn to her and she is completely horrified and shrinks into the corner, shaking her head "no" the whole time. so, i summoned every bit of willpower i possess and manage to get the bag closed.

we go to pay for the clothes we are buying and i apologize profusely to the teenage retail bitches who continue to stare down their noses at me. bitches, you work at JC Penney, get over yourselves.

thinking this is probably a good time to call it a day, we head out towards the side of the mall where the car is parked. as we are walking, one of the carrier type shopping bags bursts open and all over the floor there are 'Tween Jeans and Lemony Snicket books as far as the eye can see. i am pretty much near tears at this point. we gather up all the stuff and manage to cram it into the remaining bags and continue towards the parking garage.

FINALLY, we make it to the car, get everyone buckled in and head towards home. in the parking lot, some bitch cuts me off and without thinking, i screamed, "FUCK ME!" i really do make every effort to not swear in front of the kids, so this was the first time they had heard me curse, and at the tops of my lungs, no less. i turned to the 9 year old and said, "listen, i'm sorry you had to hear that, but i had to clean up urine today. i think i am entitled to drop one F-Bomb, ok?"

as soon as i am done typing this, i will be performing an at home hysterectomy. and next year, they are getting gift cards.

Sunday, September 11, 2005

Gamblin' Granny Strikes Again

yesterday, mom, granny and i went to the casinos. granny is a hardcore slot machine addict and we go every couple of months. my granny even learned how to play slot games on my computer. watching my 75 year old granny learn to work a mouse was one of the funniest things i have ever seen. but she did it and now has her own computer at home. i am scared to see what will happen if she ever gets internet. i know she won't gamble online for money, but she will become a walking encyclopedia of free gaming sites within weeks. if she starts her own gambling blog i would not be all that surprised.

granny got her first taste of slot fever sometime in the early 1960's when grandpa took her to las vegas for the first time. they were at one of the western themed casinos and granny was playing a penny slot machine. the machine itseld was shaped like a cowboy and when granny hit her first jackpot, the cowboy's arm shot down and pennies started coming out of it. she thought she had broken the machine and was trying to shove the pennies back into the arm. she stage whispered to grandpa, "Louie! Louie! I broke it!" he explained to her that she had just won. she's been on a tear ever since.

nowadays, the slots are much more complex. on some there are 20 paylines and bonus rounds and all kinds of other bells and whistles. i just dump my money in, hit "spin" and hope for the best. not granny. no, she understands all the paylines and winning combos. one day she was explaining them to me in great detail and i looked at her and said, "other grannies teach you how to make cookies and sweaters. you are teaching me how to gamble."

her response was to look at me say, "you can BUY cookies and sweaters. THIS is fun. now, if you hit payline 14, that means....."

so, yesterday at the casino, we are all doing our own thing and we check in with each other every hour or so to see if anyone won. i play video poker, mostly. that's my game. i even have my own favorite machine at this particular casino. everytime i play it, i win a nice chunk of change (anywhere from $70 to the most i ever won which was $1200). i love this machine so much i have named it "Baby." i get very possessive and upset if i see anyone playing it and i lurk until they leave. hey, Baby is MY machine, dammit.

sometimes i take a break and go play the regular slots. but i usually end up getting so irritated at the people around me that i leave and going back to video poker. you see, some of the neanderthals that play the slots seem to think their hands contain magic powers. while the reels are spinning, they run their hands over the video screen. back and forth, back and forth. and i can see this from the corner of my eye and it just irritates the fuck out of me. i don't know what kind of voodoo bullshit they think they are doing. and honestly, we are playing penny slots here, people. no one has ever won BIG MONEY on a freakin' penny machine. save the santeria hocus pocus for something that matters. like the Lotto.

and speaking of the people at the casino.... oh dear lord, "trashy" doesn't even begin to describe some of these assholes. i desperately wanted to take pics, but i was afraid they would kick me out. and my granny would NOT take kindly to being kicked out of a casino. that's like ex-communication for her. and she wouldn't leave with me, either. oh no, she would deny knowing me and would stay and make me sit in the hot car until she was damn good and ready to leave. i would be like one of those dogs left in the car on a hot summer's day and i would get brain damage from the heat and no one would even come break a window on the car to rescue me. needless to say, i didn't take any pics. but if i had, i would have had material for Fat Girls in Skinny Clothes for weeks! i saw enough size 24 girls crammed into size 14 pants to last me lifetime, thank you very much. *shudder*

the people that really scare me are the gambling addicts. you can always spot them by the sweat on their brow and their shaking hands. and if you can't see them, you can smell them. they reek of Eau D'desperation. you KNOW that they have just put this month's rent into that slot machine and if it doesn't pay off they are going to have to sell Junior off into white slavery.

my favorite are the people who learned everything they know about poker from Celebrity Poker Tournament on tv. once, while playing video poker, i overheard a lady ask her husband, "is that the river?" what the fuck, lady? this is VIDEO poker! there is no "river" and there is no "turn" - go back to playing keno and leave us serious players alone.

i won a little, i lost a little, but i made my money back at the buffet. i probably ate my body weight in guacamole. and given the price of avocados today, i think i came out ahead in that deal.

Sunday, September 04, 2005

Crap You Couldn't PAY Me to Wear

mom and i went to the Camarillo Outlets today. i wanted to go to the Aerosoles store in particular because there is a pair of shoes i have been wanting and they are $65 retail and i knew i could get them cheaper there. we braved the crowds and the strollers and a-shopping we went. why does every family seem to have a double stroller? i swear, some of those people didn't even have kids. it was like Stroller Derby 2005 trying to walk thru that place. next time, i will wear a helmet and elbow pads for protection.

so, in my quest to save $20, i ended up spending about $300. but i got some great stuff. at the Maidenform store alone, i dropped $65. but, i swear i needed more panties.really, i did. and i have never once walked out of a Skechers outlet empty handed. today was no exception.

many of the stores in this outlet are higher end names such as Coach, Mikasa, and Versace. but, as you are about to see, money DOES NOT equal good taste. we saw stuff today that i wouldn't give to my worst enemy as a gag gift.

YABBA DABBA FUCKING DO! obviously designed by betty rubble after a 3 day bender, this vest was a plush faux fur nightmare. retired grandmothers in florida would deem this "a little over the top, dear."

because, really, nothing says CLASS like a gold lame, high heeled sneaker. my favorite detail is the security tag. i really don't think they have to worry about these bad boys getting shoplifted anytime soon.

is it a kayak? is it a shoe? i don't know, it's just butt ugly. (that cute little leg belongs to my mom. i love that she is willing to model for my art. what a mom!)

how many Muppets had to die for this? somebody call PETA! this is an outrage!! i mean, WHO, tell me WHO looks at that shoe and says, "yes. finally. the perfect shoe. my search is over. it shall be mine."

trust me, the stuff i bought is WAY cuter.

Monday, August 29, 2005

With Me, You Never Get a FIRST Chance to Make a First Impression. And I'm OK With That.

sometimes you can just look at a person and know, beyond a shadow of doubt, that there is no way in hell you and she could ever be friends. then, they open their mouthes and cement the deal. why, yes, i *do* judge a book by it's cover. you got a problem with that?

the other day i went to a local retaurant for lunch. quick sidenote about this place. it is an italian retaurant, run by pakistanis and they make the best damn chicken burrito and pico de gallo i have ever had. still trying to wrap my head around that one. so, anyway, i am waiting for my order and i overhear two women talking. one of them was in her 40's and wearing a denim jumper and a headband. she looked like a sunday school teacher. all that was missing was the emroidred ABC's and apples on the pockets. the other woman looked to be in her late 30's and was sporting a mullet the likes of which i have not seen outside of a motley crue concertcirca 1987. but her's was the "classy,' professional mullet." if there is such a thing.

here's a snippet of their conversation:

denim jumper: "have you read "the notebook?" oh, you just haaaaaaaave to. it's so woooooooonderful!"

mullet dweeb: "no. but i have read "the wedding." oh, it was soooooooo beauuuuuuuuuuutiful. i cried and cried. it really spoke to me."

denim jumper: "isn't nicholas sparks just the beeeeeeeeeest writer?"

i will bet you a million dollars that Denim Jumper has a poster in her cubicle of a kitten hanging from a branch with the caption "hang in there, baby" tacked to her fabric covered wall. and Mullet Dweeb almost certainly collects Marie Osmond dolls. and names them and dresses them in different outfits every week.

see, i knew within 10 seconds that if i was stranded on a desert island with these chicks i would die without ever having spoken another word. what do you say to people like that? i just can't relate to people that equate schmaltz crap with literature. hey, i like my trashy novels as much as the next gal, but i have never proclaimed Sophie Kinsella as the Voice of My Generation. everyone knows that is Helen Fielding's title. duh.

i have the same reaction when i meet overly religious people. i just know, with every fiber of my being, that i have nothing in common with them. i don't put much stock in a book of fairy tales (i.e. The Bible) and i don't live my life doing good deeds for the sole purpose of scoring points with god and securing a front row seat in heaven. that's what my family gets for raising me as a catholic. there is no atheist like the reformed catholic. i was overeducated about catholicism and saw it for the load of crap it is. i might actually be part vampire, because when i see a cross i hiss and cover my face. (sherri, none of this applies to you. you are the exception to this rule. you snuck in under my radar. love ya like i love tater tots.)

i try not to judge people too quickly (ok, that's a total lie, but for the sake of argument, let's pretend it's true). but when i see a pro life bumper sticker on a car and that car is driven by a MAN, it's all i can do to not ram into him, screaming "yeah, asshole. every life *is* precious EXCEPT yours!" let's hope no one at Progressive Car Insurance reads this blog. and you don't even want to know what happens when i see NRA bumper stickers. and i can't tell you, because that would be self incriminating. and i ain't stupid.

when i go into Blockbuster and see someone struggling with the decision to rent a Jim Carrey movie vs. a Chris Farley movie, i just look at that person and think, "let's hope our paths never, ever cross again. ok?"

gosh, given my loving, bubbly nature, it's really shocking that i don't have more friends.

Friday, August 26, 2005

Fat Girls in Skinny Clothes - The Sequel

let me just clarify a few things first. i am not ragging on fat people. hell, i ain't tiny myself and as i type this i am licking the Cinnabon frosting from my fingers. however, i *am* ragging on fat people who have no clue how to dress for their size. if you are a size 22, please do not try to squeeze yourself into a size 10. it's not pretty and it hurts my eyes. and i don't want to hear this bullshit about Fat/Size Acceptance. ugly is ugly no matter what you call it.

this chick was wearing a shirt about 45 sizes too small for her and low rise jeans. you can actually see the fat spooging out in between the slats on the chair. i just wanted to hit her over the head with a Lane Bryant catalog and explain to her the beauty that is the tunic top.


Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Yup, It's Offical. I Have NO Shame. None.

i have to type this post very quickly because in 21 minutes one of my favorite tv shows will be starting and once it does, that's it. the internet gets turned off, my Sidekick gets turned off and don't even think about trying to call me, because i won't answer. your emergency will still be an emergency 20 minutes from now. it can wait.

what is this show you might be asking yourself? is it the high brow Charlie Rose? is the the political hotbed Crossfire? is it a National Geographic special on the mating habits of meerkats? nope. it is Battle of the Network Reality Stars. that sound you now hear is my mother hauling ass to the lawyer's office so she can write me out of the will. i have to give her credit though, she tried, she really did. when i was little, i was fed a steady diet of PBS and educational programming. enough of that bullshit. bring me the trash tv.

i fucking LOVE Battle of the Network Reality Stars! i mean, c'mon, what's not to love? first and most importantly, we have the incomparable Evil Dr. Will Kirby from Season 2 of Big Brother. this man is AWESOME. he will say and do anything to win and he's just flat out fucking funny. i would watch this show just to see him insult people. they generally have no clue they are being insulted and just grin and clap him on the back as if he were their new best friend. he's my hero. but, last week, he was shirtless at one point and i was reminded of the fact that he has the tiniest man nipples i have ever seen. it's almost distracting, really. he has mini man nips.

on last weeks episode, Charla from the Amazing Race was in the jousting competition with the chick that won the first season of The Swan (and her plastic surgery is holding up very nicely, i might add). in case you don't know, Charla is a "little person." so basically, it was a midget jousting an amazonion red head above a pool of water. MIDGET JOUSTING! you don't get to see this everyday, people. and it's not even pay per view!! god bless america.

then we have 2 of the biggest reality whores ever created in the MTV labs. Coral and Mike "The Miz" from Real World Back to New York. i swear, these 2 are just moments away from auditioning for Extreme Supermarket Sweep. they will compete in any reality event that will have them.

8 more minutes to go. yeah, i type slow, i know.

the downside to this show is we have to put up with Omarossa and Bob the Bachelor as "commentators." that's why god created the mute button. that's a waste of 2 carbon based life forms if there ever was.

Richard Hatch and Sue Hawk from the first Survivor are also competing on this show. in case you were wondering, he is still fat and she is still ugly. it's nice to have some consistency in this everchanging world. it makes me feel safe as a kitten. oops, almost forgot about Duncan Nutter from Showbiz Moms and Dads. yeah, he's still creepy and crazy. people never really change do they?

apparently, we get 5 more weeks of this. i wish it were more, but i don't like to look a gift horse in the mouth. and Bravo to the Bravo! network for running this on Wednesday nights so that it doesn't interfere with Big Brother 6. they know their audience and they know what we want, dammit.

3 minutes to go, which means it is time for this week's gratuitous John mayer pic.


i would give a limb to touch that man just once. and i would be willing to give up a good limb. not a leg, but my left arm. and i am left handed. THAT'S how much i love him. damn.

Saturday, August 20, 2005

I Could Be A Stripper! Who Knew?

so, i went shopping with my friend, lauren, today. i am not good at adding the links in the posts, but she is The Adnostic and you can click on the link to the left to read her. she's awesome.

first stop, Sephora. god, they now officially have ALL my money. i only bought two things, and one was an actual necessity. not too bad. while perusing every single aisle (is there any other way to shop at Sephora?) we came to the Jessica Simpson Dessert line of products. she hocks something called Belly Button Gloss. i was never bothered by the matte finish of my belly button. should i be? have i ever looked in the mirror and asked myself, "self, is my belly button glossy enough? if ONLY there was a candy scented product to gloss my belly button!" our prayers have been answered by Jessica. gloss away, gals, gloss away!

next stop, Victoria's Secret. i love panties and buy them compulsively (7 pairs in the last 3 days) but i just can't bring myself to buy panties with a keyhole right above the ass crack. i don't need a bullseye there, thankyouverymuch.

on to Bloomingdales for more bra and panty shopping. behind the register is huge wall of nothing but thong panties and the word "THONGS" above it. ah yes, the infamous Wall of Thongs. the women's magazines are always telling you to get professionally fitted for bras because 90% of us are wearing the wrong size. so, we ask the sales girl to measure us.

now, depending on the brand, i can comfortably wear a 34 or 36C. works for me, but just wanted to get measured out of curiosity. so, um, yeah, acording to this chick i am a 36EE. nope, not a typo. 36EE. what the fuck? if my boobs were that big, they would need their own zip code. i never see that size in stores. maybe it was her last day at work and was just intentionally fucking with people.

well, it's getting late, so me and my 36EE boobs are signing off.

Friday, August 19, 2005

Fat Girls in Skinny Clothes

thanks to my new Sidekick, this will become a recurring feature on the Unholy Smell. well, it will as long as i can continue to take pics without getting my ass kicked.


Thursday, August 18, 2005

I Probably Should Not Even Be Awake This Late At Night

i am vain about many, many things. namely, my nails and my shoes, but one thing i am not vain about is my age. hell, i'll tell you right now i am 33 years old. and it doesn't bother me in the slightest. actually, my plan is, when i am 35, i will start telling people i am 40, so that they will look at me and say, "DAMN! you look GOOD for your age!"

my hair started going grey when i was in my early 20's and i have been coloring it ever since. oh, by the way, thanks for the defective genes, mom! but that didn't even bother me too much. one box of L'Oreal Feria later and no one was the wiser.

when i turned 30, it was honestly no big deal. it was just another number. i was not one of those women that locked herself in her bedroom for a week bemoaning her lost youth. hell, it was just another year and another excuse to go out drinking with my friends. and i got presents. how could that be bad?

but this morning, for the first time in my life, i FELT OLD. i was faced with the irrefutable evidence of my aging. oh god, it pains me to admit this, but today.....(deep breath and stifled sob)...... i had to put a medicated disk on my corn. yes, my descent into senior citizenship has started. i have a corn on my foot. that last sentence is probably the least sexy sentence ever uttered. grandmothers get corns. maiden aunts get corns. young, cute vibrant women DO NOT GET CORNS, DAMMIT!

what has happened to me? ten years ago i was out partying every weekend on the sunset strip. we partied thursday night, friday night, saturday night AND sunday night. we would puke it all up at 3am, then start drinking again the next night. but on sunday nights, we left the bars at 1am instead of 2am, because we had to work the next day and we needed our sleep, dontcha know. in my 20's i spent more time sleeping (read: passed out cold) on bathroom floors than i did sleeping in my own actual bed. flash forward to the present day, and if you call me and ask me to go out after work on a friday night, this is what you will hear from me:

*YAWN* are you serious? no, i am sorry, i am just too tired. maybe we can meet for lunch tomorrow afternoon. but i have to be home by 8pm because Big Brother is on and saturday nights are the Veto Competitions."

oh yeah, par-tay on bay-bee! what's next? an Ensure-Tini?

now, granted, i have noticed other signs of my impending middle age. the crepe-like texture of the skin on my neck, the fine lines on my face that are nestled next to my acne scars (side note: what kind of cruel joke is mother nature playing on me that i have to apply acne medicine AND wrinkle cream to my face every day? it should really be one or the other, not both. it's just not fair.) when i wake up in the mornings, parts of my body are stiff and my joints make weird noises. i am ok with the fact that i sound like a movie theater popcorn machine at 6am. i have accepted the fact that i am getting older. but that doesn't mean i have to surrender. but corns? oh, that just sucks ass.

next thing you know, i will be crocheting toilet paper cozies. if i ever make anything that can in any way be described as a "cozie" of any kind, you have my permission to take me out back and shoot me like Old Yeller. just do me a favor and make sure my medicated corn disks are removed before the viewing.

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Girls, Girls, Girls

i just had the girliest, most decadent weekend. you should all be envying me right now. god, what can't every weekend be like this? see, if i had a personal assistant to run all my crappy errands for me and do my laundry (but i would still wash my own panties, because the thought of someone else touching them creeps me out.) i could spend all my free time just pampering myself.

it all started friday nite. my friend, sherri, was in anaheim for a convention. i drove out there and met her at Downtown Disney. first stop, Sephora (duh!) where i am proud to report i only purchased ONE item. i won't tell you what that one item cost, though. because then i would have to kill you. but trust me, it was a GOOD item.

then we stopped in the big, mega Disney store. sherri was lamenting the fact that she could not find a particualr Disney Collectible Pin. apparently, pins are the new Beanie Babies. there is a huge community of people that buy, sell and trade these pins. as she is explaining this, a man walks over to her as says, "PSST!"

sherri acknowledges him and he cuts his eyes to the left, and then to right to make sure no one is listening in and proceeds to stage whisper that he knows a guy that trades them in Disneyland in front of one particular store. the whole time, he is checking over his shoulder. i have seen drug deals go down with less precaution. it was all so very cloak and dagger. and right in the middle of Downtown Disney, of all places! is nothing sacred, people?!?!

after that we went to dinner. sherri and i both have the misfortune of living in Sonic-Free cities. actually, this is a good thing, because if there was one within spitting distance, i would become the 400 Pound Woman of Los Angeles. but, since sherri and i both love The Sonic, that was where we had dinner. i ordered the Sonic sized tots, onion rings, a Sonic bacon cheeseburger and a DIET cherry limeade. watching those calories, dontcha know. i am happy to report that Carb-O-Polloza 2005 was a success!

sadly, the evening went by much too fast and i had to take her back to her hotel. i pull into the driveway and we were making our goodbyes when one of bellhop type guys opens my drivers side door because he thinks i want to valet my car. not expecting this, i screamed like a little girl. now the driver's seat in my car smells like pee.

saturday, some other girlfriends and i went to a VERY nice, full service spa. before our facials, we spent some time in the steam room and the jacuzzi. WE were wearing bathing suits. sadly, i cannot say the same for everyone else. yup, i was confronted with one of my pet peeves everytime i turned around. naked women. i never know where to look and it's just uncomfortable. although, my favorite "hi, i'm naked. please envy my flat tummy and fake, perky boobs" girl was spotted in the jacuzzi. naked as the day she was born, *except* for her gold belly chain. i just looked at her and thought to myself, "yup, you're getting blogged."

my facial was heavenly. i told the girl to focus on extraction and she went to town on my pores. she squeezed stuff out of my face that has been there since clinton was in office. right now, my face feels like a baby's butt. in a good way, not a nasty diaper rash-y kind of way.

at the spa i bought the most wonderful shower gel and body lotion set. (see my previous post to understand how ridiculous it is that i bought one more set of bath stuff) but i literally could not help myself. see, i have been searching high and low for a chocolate scented gel/lotion duo that DOESN'T smell like crap. i finally found it. it is made by a company called Bubalina. if i wasn't so damn lazy, i would find their web link and post it here. but, fuck it, if you can find my blog, you can certainly Google your own shit. trust me, this stuff is GOOD. i smell edible right now.

after the spa we went to dinner at P.F. Changs and had the most wonderful meal. and a few drinks. let's just say i HIGHLY recommend the Confucious Martini and leave it at that.

today, i bought a T-Mobile Sidekick. oh, i am already loving my Kicky. camera, email, phone and web browser all in one. i have to figure out all the features, but i don't think it will be that hard. for christsake, paris hilton figured it out and she's dumber than a box of rocks, so i am hopeful.

back to the real world tomorrow. blech.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

I Could Find the Nearest Sephora with My Eyes Closed

as i was taking a shower tonite, i looked around my bathroom and realized that i might, just maybe, have a teensy weensy problem. in my shower i have 16, yes, i counted, 16 bottles of shampoo and conditioner. this is in addition to the 7 different body washes, 4 scrubs and 3 face soaps. let's not forget the loofah, face brush, scrubby gloves and back brush! i am so overloaded on product, there is barely room for me in there anymore. when i stepped out the shower, i counted 38 bottles/jars/tubes of beauty products on my counter. i didn't even look under the sink and count all the stuff there because, well, frankly, i can't count that high without a calculator.

it's almost psychotic, notice i qualified that with an "almost." it is as if go into a fugue state when i enter Sephora. if you watch the security tapes, i am pretty sure you will see footage of me handing my bank card to a black clad saleswoman and saying, "got any new Philosophy 3-in-1 body washes? load me up. charge this baby til it screams."

for some reason, i TOTALLY buy into the mythology of the cosmetics industry. "well, if it costs $80 and comes in a pretty bottle, then it MUST be a superior product. THIS is the shampoo that will make me look JUST LIKE catherine zeta jones." what's sad is that this such a girly thing. guys don't buy this crap like we do. my best friend is a guy and about 2 years ago he came to spend the weekend at my house. when he walked into my bathroom, he starting laughing so hard he was in danger of cracking a rib. then he caught his breath, came back out and explained to me that a man can take a shower using nothing but a bar of soap. i was horrified. apparently, a man can use one bar of soap to wash his hair, clean his face, clean his body and lather up his naughty bits. i just cannot get my head around this. it was like he was speaking a foreign language. it kind of scared me a little.

i know i am not alone. so many of my girlfriends have succumbed to the Sephora Sickness. we need professional help. however, there is no 12 step program for us. but we don't *really* want to change,so here are our half assed 12 steps.

Step #1 - We admitted we were powerless over the Smashbox counter.

Step #2 - We came to believe that only a new bottle of Demeter fragrance could restore us to sanity.

Step #3 - Made a decision to turn our skin and our pocketbooks over to Bobbi Brown.

Step #4 - Made a searching a fearless inventory of our makeup bags. Yes, i do NEED 16 lipsticks.

Step #5 - Admitted only to God and our very best girlfriend *exactly* how much we spent on that Chanel lipstick.

Step #6 - We were entirely ready to have Dr. Perricone remove all defects from our pores.

Step #7 - Humbly asked the girl at the Lancome counter for an extra "gift with purchase" for a "friend."

Step #8 - Made a list of all the Stila clerks we had abused because they were sold out of the blush that Allure magazine called the "must have of the season" and made amends to them all. We apologize for scaring the clerk so badly she gave us extra samples just to make us go away.

Step #9 - Made direct amends to all those clerks, except when to do so would have cost them their job.

Step #10 - Continued to take a personal inventory, and when we ran out of eyeliner, promptly went to Nordstrom's and bought more.

Step #11 - Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our relationship with Bare Escentuals, praying for the knowledge that would allow us to "Swirl, Tap and Buff" just like the girls in the informercials.

Step #12 - Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of Biolage shampoo, seeking to share this knowledge with others.

ok, girls, our first meeting will be held at the Kiehl's counter. we will be giving away free samples of #1 lip balm in lieu of coffee and donuts. the line forms to the right. one sample per person, please.

Sunday, August 07, 2005

Notes From the Pits of Hell

i was born and bred in los angeles. this is MY town, dammit. i love almost everything about it. the diverse cultures, the energy, the people and the shopping. the only other city that feels like "home" to me is manhattan. having traveled all over this country, i can honestly say that i would not thrive in any other city.

one of my best friends lives in iowa and i have been there a few times to visit her. if she didn't live there, i would never set foot in that state ever again. i just don't love corn that much. well, i might swing by there once a year to hit the thrift stores. the cool thing about Podunk, USA is that they wouldn't know fashion if if slapped them in the face. i always find the coolest clothes in their thrift stores. iowans must receive these fabulous cashmere sweaters from their hip relatives in NY and immediately donate them to goodwill. if they haven't seen it in the WalMart Winter Fashions Collection, they don't trust it. their ignorance becomes my $3 score.

one of the things i love about los angeles is being able to go to breakfast at Waffles N More and looking over to see Joey Lawrence at the table next to me, scarfing down his eggs benedict. or going to the movies and realizing that Pacey is sitting 3 rows ahead of me. i am a total entertainment whore and this just tickles me. i ain't never seen anna nicole at the Taco Tico in iowa.

i tell you this, because right now i fucking hate this place and i need to remember why i live here. it's august and it's 103 bajillion degrees outside at 9pm. basically, the Valley is just a desert that someone built houses on, and god help me, we bought one of them. truly, i hate summer and everything that goes along with it. this heat just sucks the lifeforce right out of me. i have spent the better part of today becoming one with my bed. even with the a/c on, i can barely make that long trek to the kitchen to refill my martini glass. and that my friends, is truly tragic.

some people LOVE this weather. i hate them. can someone please explain to me what is the point of "laying out?" what is the appeal of flinging your body onto the 100 degree ground and laying there in the heat, sweating like winona ryder in front a security camera at nieman marcus? then they have their cute little spray bottles of water that they use to "mist" themselves. you wanna "mist" yourself, go take a shower. newsflash, they make self tanners. this is not necessary.

if i was allowed to carry a concealed weapon, i would spend the whole summer driving around in my air conditioned car and shooting those fools that you see JOGGING at 12 noon. they really can't be contributing much to the gene pool and i don't think they would be missed. BANG!

and in los angeles, summer means tourists. yeah, yeah, yeah, i know they help our economy and are good for business, blah, blah, blah. but they are in my way and make the traffic even worse. driving in los angeles is not THAT hard. you can always spot these poor fools on the freeways. there they are in their rented minivan, white knuckling the steering wheel, desperately trying to change lanes. just DO IT and get out of my way! GOSH!

i hate this heat so much, it just makes me want to shoot myself. but i don't even have the energy to pull the trigger.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Big Green Men I Have Loved

in addition to liking the girly boys, i apparently like the green guys. most of my childhood icons were, well, green. i don't know what this says about me as a person. maybe it's just a natural extension of my personality. i am completely shallow and materialistic, and money is green. i like lettuce and that's green. absinthe is green and i have been dying to get my hands on some of that stuff. hey, any liqour that can rot out your insides and liquify your brain, i gotta try. my favorite brand of tampons come in a green wrapper (FYI gals, tampax pearl. so worth the extra cost.) but i don't like mold, it's nasty. and i don't like the green bay packers. i don't give a flying rat's ass about football and their fans wear cheese wedges on their heads. that's just dumb. but overall, green is good.

for some strange reason, as a child i just LOVED the jolly green giant. i had made my mom buy my the doll and i carried that thing around until it fell apart. he's was a little buffer than i normally like my men, but i was willing to overlook a few flaws. my love was pure. this was the only pic i could find of jolly online and i have no clue what those words mean. basically, the lack of jolly green giant pics leads me to believe i am alone in this particular obsession. it wouldn't be the first time.

ah, gumby. what's not to love about him? he's just so bendy. and his high pitched voice probably ties back to my whole girly boy thing.

sundays nights were the highlight of my week. "the muppet show" was the original must see tv. while i have loved other muppets, i have loved none other as long as kermit. i had a passing fascination with miss piggy and scooter stole my heart for awhile in the late 70's.
but it always comes back to kermit.
truer words were never spoken.

my one true love, though, has always been H.R. Pufnstuf. when that show would come on, my world would come to a screeching halt. at the time, the show made sense to me. magic flutes and talking owls. yeah, sure, i'm down with that. unfortunately, i have watched this show as an adult, and now realize the Krofft brothers were higher than kites and getting paid to make children's television. but, my love, it shall survive. as you shall see.

that's me and The Puf (he lets me call him that) about 5 years ago at a Krofft Brothers Auction. look at the pure mania on my face. i think i might have actually been peeing my pants when that pic was taken. when our lifelong dreams are realized, bladder control becomes secondary.

here's The Puf in drag. even at age 5, i knew trannies were hot. god, why did my family never put me in therapy?

ok, i'll be totally honest here. i do love shrek, but i love donkey more. anytime i see any shrek stuff in stores, i am complled to start braying, "DON-KEEEEY!" shopping with me is FUN.

completely gratuitous john mayer pic just for the hell of it. but, hey, he *is* wearing a green shirt. and he's just so pretty. look at those arms. have i mentioned the arms? if i haven't, they ROCK.MY.WORLD. besides, after what i paid an eBay scalper today for just ONE ticket to his show next month, i gotta remind myself why he's worth it. and he is, baby, he totally is.

Monday, August 01, 2005

Here's What I Can Remember About BlogHer

i am back home and in my own bed. ahhhh. let me just say i had a great time and learned a lot. met some fascinating chicks and made some new friends. it was uber fabu.

saturday night is a drunken, blurry memory. it is now 48 hours later and i might still be drunk. let me start by saying those mommy bloggers know how to PAR-TAY! damn, they were still going at it when i stumbled back to my room. i remember thinking i should ask the front desk for a 9am wake up call, but have zero recollection of actually making said call. but i must have, because i was rather surprised when my phone rang at 9am. props to the operator at the westin hotel that was actually able to decipher Slurred Drunkenese and put that request thru for me. you rock hard.

that night, there were pictures taken that mean i can now never run for office. and if any of you bitches post them on your blog, i will hunt you down and cut you. remember, my granny is still alive and she is talking about getting internet access sometime soon. let's not give her any reason to disown me, a'ight? peace out.

one of the things i learned at the conference is that i am what is known as an "identity blogger." and i guess my identity is bitchy and snarky. this comes as no surprise to those who know me well. what it really means is that i just like to talk about myself and my opinions. a lot.

it was so surreal to meet people that actually read this and have them reference things i have written in here. surreal, but TOTALLY COOL, also. the only downside to this is that we fell into the habit of referring to each other by our blog names. for some this was ok. "hey, look it's Dooce!" or "i just had the best conversation with Mighty Girl." not so cool if you are me and people come up to you and say, "oh wow, you are the unholy smell." that's something you really can't hear enough.

i think my favorite moment came in one session where a woman stood up and announced she is polyamorous. because, really, what can anyone say after that? there is no topping that one.

Sunday, July 31, 2005

On the Road Again

i drove up to Santa Clara Friday for the BlogHer conference. it was a 6 hour drive thru the bowels of california. sometimes i forget that cali is actually an agricultural state. a drive thru central california is all the reminder i needed that we are more than los angeles and san fran. there are parts of california that smell like cow. that funk just creeps into your car and LINGERS for MILES. looking at the cows standing there baking in the sun, i wondered, when it is 100 degrees outside like it is now, does the milk inside of them curdle? when we spend too much time in the sun, we say our skin gets "leathery." does their hide actually turn to leather by the end of summer? yeah, i'm real fun on road trips, dontcha know?

i finally get past Cow Funk, CA and then 100 miles up the road i sail into Gilroy, CA. it is the garlic capital of the world and it smells like it, too. the whole town reeks of eau de Olive Garden. just without the all you can eat breadsticks.

so, i finally get to Santa Clara. i am hot, tired, cranky and i needed a shower. and my hair looked funky, and not in a good way, either. really, pretty much like any other day, except i was 400 miles from home. as i start to walk into the hotel, i was accosted by three protesters. they tried to offer me a flyer explaining their cause. i was very polite (i SWEAR i was) and refused the flyer. that's when the girl protester starts SCREAMING at me, "SHAME ON YOU! SHAME ON YOU!! EDUCATE YOURSELF! SHAME ON YOU!" she really needs to work on her sales pitch.

i kept on walking and without turning around, i raised my arm and flipped her off. hey, she pissed me off. then the little peacenik screams at me, "REAL MATURE, MA'AM. REAL MATURE!" i love that she called me ma'am.

now really, what can you be protesting about at a hotel? seriously, what is the hotel doing? slaughtering babies, amputating their feet, coating them in hot sauce and selling the feet as imitation hot wings during happy hour? even if they are, i don't give a damn. i don't like hot wings.

after checking in, i get to my room and find that i am the worst packer in the world. it would be easier to tell you what i did pack, instead of all the things i forgot. one of the things i forgot my hairbrush. all weekend, my hair was just tragic. i have seen homeless people with better hair than i had going on.

i also forgot my razor. today, from the knees down, i am impersonating a Yeti. GGGRRRRR!

i have so much more to tell, but i am EXHAUSTED. so you will just have to wait until tomorrow.