Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
The last three days have consisted of a steady diet of Good & Plentys, seven different gourmet chocolate bars, family size bag of Jelly Belly beans, Toaster Strudels (four boxes,) Hostess cupcakes, gummy bears, Reeses, ENORMOUS Halloween bag of assorted candy, vanilla wafer cookies, Elfin cookies, Oreo cookies (don't really like those, but I'll take one for the team.) Doritos, other assorted chips, salsa, sugar cereal (four more boxes) another family pack of licorice and then...drum roll please...A BAG OF PEAS AND GLASS OF DIET COKE TO WASH IT ALL DOWN! Which we all know is a law of the Universe that keeps any of the previous calories from counting. Yay for laws of the Universe!
Now there is one slight drawback to this toxic form of nutrition, which is called "consequence." ~or in lay man's terms, "witches brew" which seems to be in gas form permeating the entire condo. The air is green people. The Grinch who stole Christmas green. Word to the wise (and Housekeeping) you do NOT want to pass by this door.
So what's a group of people basking in their own stench to do? (shoulder shrug) The only thing we can do, friends. Take another swig of Diet Coke~just to be safe, and flee the premises, slamming the door behind us (and sealing the crack with a dish towel so as not to alarm the other vacationers) as we prepare to go shopping while singing Christmas carols at the top of our lungs.
Since, as I already mentioned, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Plus, I'm sure we can find a can of Spam somewhere to bring home for dinner.
Friday, September 25, 2009
I dove into my Halloween décor this week. Yup, just pulled on my swimming cap, plugged my nose and belly flopped into the boxes. Came up for breath every other bin, but the kids still had to jump in to save me. I was stuck under a “moaning rock” and several duplicate copper pumpkins that I’d forgotten I had purchased…four times. Honestly!
I know that I am to blame for this mess. It’s my hearty appetite~tough to curb. I feast on things and stuff like turkey at Thanksgiving. Gobble, gobble, snarf, belch. It’s called “mass consumption”~or hording. Semantics. (shoulder shrug)
Anyway, after dragging them up from the basement a few days ago, I walked past them~back and forth~back and forth~creating a breeze with the wafting of my nightgown...for three days. I know. Nightgowns rock!
I had every intention of putting them all up the moment the children painstakingly unloaded them right smack in the middle of the path between kitchen and "rest-of-the-house," for us to trip over, twist our ankles on and stub our toes with in the middle of the night. Which I did…every stinkin’ time I went to the kitchen for a handful of candy (frequent)…but pretty soon I could go directly from a hippo-like stumble into a graceful somersault and right back up again aiming toward the candy jar~while holding a cup of rabbit poop ice, without even skipping a beat! It was kind of neat to see.
Where was I? Oh, yeah. Still haven’t put them up. Can’t. Too many. Too much. Too hard.
Soooo…would somebody please SLAP (really, really hard and fast, over and over again) my hand if I pick up/purchase ONE MORE WITCH, PUMPKIN, GOBLIN OR GARLAND~NO MATTER HOW VINTAGE, CHARMING, DESIRED OR NECESSARY TO MY HAPPINESS I LABEL THEM!
Thank you. The Lord bless you and keep you for your efforts in my behalf. You could do that when I put chocolate to my lips too, but I’ll more than likely turn feral on you~not really worth the risk.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
So let's discuss this "shades of pooh" obsession~and by obsession, I mean disease. And by disease, I mean revolting, puss-filled, infectious and warty. OK, maybe that was a little harsh, but I become very passionate, friends, when it comes to dumbing down of any sort, and this is at the top of my list. I just do NOT get it. What is so beautiful/sophisticated/desirous about taupe, tan, brown, sand, neutral? Many words, one meaning~not a color.
When people refer to "earth tones," they are mistaken. The sky is not brown. The grass is not brown. Flowers, water, fruit, vegetables, trees (leaves)~ALL not brown. Therefore, Earth is not brown. Dirt is~not Earth. Big difference.
"What is she suggesting?" you ask.
It's simple. Spray paint, people.
"This is madness!" you scream.
"Is she competent?" you query.
"What can we DO to help her find her way back?" you fret.
I appreciate your concern. But I am committed to this concept. In fact, I am a Bible thumping, cross wearing, hail Mary saying, Book of Mormon reading, believer in the concept of COLOR! And not just ONE, but ALL KINDS! Red, Blue, Yellow, White, Pink, Orange, Copper, Green...the list goes on and on, my friends. It's almost as if the good Lord planned it this way. What? Crazy, I know! But maybe, just maybe, He knew that it would bring us JOY!
Which is, I believe, why men...and women...are.
And that is why I will continue to eat my Harvest Veggies, fill my cups with rabbit poop ice and decorate with the rainbow that was given me to splatter all over my world.
Now that is reason for JOY! Come, let us dance.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Anyway, one day a while back, probably high on Dr. Pepper and licorice, I announced loudly to one and all that I would be "HAVING MY FEET DONE, PEOPLE." My family silently crossed themselves. See, all of them had at one point or another received an accidental slice by my reptilian claws, (Accidental, I say.) and I'd shredded my fair share of sheets, and they were just really concerned about possible litigation. It took about three weeks of prep work, but finally, I had scraped enough dead skin off my heels to allow them to be touched by another human, as well as dropped a full shoe size in the process. Bonus!
I went to a little Vietnamese shop where the poor woman looked down at my feet~looked up into my eyes~and glared, staring straight through me and throwing firey darts into the depth of my soul. Then she went to work; scraping, filing, sanding, cutting. (This was the skin, not the toenails.) Think total reconstructive surgery. She was sweating and swearing (in Vietnamese though, so it was fine), angry and hostile by the time she finished. Wiping her brow, she lifted up my freshly polished hoof, shook it and pointed at me. "YOU COME BACK FOE MOE TIME TO FEEX DIS! FOE MOE TIME!" I nodded vehemently, as if I were a child in trouble~which I kind of was~and she threw my foot away in disgust, stood up and just walked away. I tried to speak and she stopped walking, put her hand in the air to silence me, and then continued on.
I was ashamed. For I had neglected a very, very important universal truth. A golden rule, one might say. "Maintain on yourself what you would have others maintain on them." Like skin...or hair, people. Nose hair, specifically. And ear hair. And eyebrow tentacles...I mean hair. All of which continue to grow weekly, dear, therefore need to be trimmed continually! Hells Bells. I won't mention any names. (cough, husband, cough)
So let's give a shout out to maintenance. YAY FOR MAINTENANCE!!! It may make us feel worldly and sinful, decadent and prideful, but it seems to be worth the effort. And who knows, a marriage may be saved in the process.