Monday, November 29, 2010

Easygoing. Carefree.

There is a big pile of ugly knit fabric on my table.  I intend to sew myself pajamas out of this.  I'm not one of those people who venture out of my house wearing my pajamas and using this inherited fabric for jammies will only strengthen my resolve.  I at least change into a pair of jeans and cover up the pajama top with a jacket.

Especially since I tend to go braless while wearing jammies.  Flashing evidence of this whilst loading gallons of milk into your cart is uncouth no matter how many people may appreciate the sight.

Don't get me started on what goes on in the produce section.

This pajama fabric was manufactured in the 80's and I'm going to get my Flashdance on.  One length is rainbow striped.  Rainbow Brite will be jealous, that fruity little twit.

The point of this post though is not my pajamas or my shopping habits.  The point is that I'm going to attempt to sew the newest trendy home fashion item with some of the shorter lengths of knits from the 80's.

I'm gonna sew my own panties.

To follow the trend I'm supposed to be sewing underpants out of my old t-shirts.  My two oldest t-shirts have my nephew's faces on them and I think that would be uncouth as well.  I love my sister's kids but love has limits.

Have a tutorial.  Learn how to cover your ass.

There is my Chris Isaak there's a thought...

Ooh, I tingled.

But no, I'm going to attempt to cover my butt then my body in rainbow print.  That ought to make me downright insouciant.

The thesaurus gave me that word when I looked up gay.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Two below.

Last year my little family didn't travel into Utah to eat roast meats and other carbs with family because we all had flu. 

This year it's been decided that we aren't travelling into Utah because Mother Nature has the flu.  When Mama ain't happy ain't no one happy.

There isn't any need to worry about body scans or pat downs at any international airport in this vicinity because more likely than not, you aren't going anywhere.  The blizzard, even if there won't be a disgusting amount of snow, is going to render everyone blind and flash frozen like Dippin' Dots.

I know, you were looking forward to your body cavity search. 

Seeing that we were going to be driving instead of flying, any body cavity searches that I was likely to be involved with were going to be performed in house.  Perhaps we would have donned rubber gloves for the authenticity factor.  Spreading whilst standing in front of the microwave while it's on.  Then we would have surrendered any bottles of liquids and pairs of tiny scissors we might have been carrying.

Since we're staying home we'll have to find other ways to entertain ourselves, I guess.

Oh, the storm ruined that too.  They've cancelled school today.

Thursday, November 18, 2010's sticky.

I thought I was fairly internet savvy.

I know what a Rick-Roll is by golly.  I've been on the you-tubes and the facebooks and the tweets and the and the chat roulette.  Chat Roulette lasted all of two minutes before I determined that people sure are bored these days.  Good lord.  Keep those antacids and a bucket nearby.

Yup, savvy, that is until I heard the term "blue waffles" today.  As in, if you are texted or emailed some blue waffles, well, that means that someone thinks that you are a giant douche-canoe.

When you look up the term "blue waffles" be sure to not look at the results at work or in front of your children.

Because your children probably already know how charming such an endearment is and you don't want to embarrass yourself in front of them for being so out of touch.

Grab a bucket too, just in case.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

He bleeped me with science...

PineSol is not sexy.   It's just not.  Any antiseptic is not sexy.  Fighting germs makes no one tingle.

Well...maybe except my Mom.  She has her cleaning rituals right down pat.  This is why we call her the Empress of Electrolux.  Vacuuming makes my Mom a happy happy woman.

But that's besides the point.  When most people think of their mothers or sanitizing anything they don't think about sex.

This is why I had a confusing moment watching the news this morning.  I mean, morning is not usually a time a day I'm thinking about sex either.  I just woke up and I have fuzz on my teeth.  Give me a moment and some coffee to work myself into boinking mood. 

You want to really kill my drive wake me up early and tell me that one of my boys completely missed the toilet.  Boom.  Libido out for approximately 12 hours.

See, Bill Nye the Science Guy was billed on my news this morning.

...and Bill Nye can recite his curriculum vitae, not laying a single finger on me and I'd be a happy happy woman.

However, Bill ain't laying a finger on anyone without sanitizing his hands.  This was the point of his appearance on the news.  Observe:

Sorry about the ad...and no this isn't my local news. It was just a convenient video to embed.

Bill, my bunsen burner ain't heating up proper!

Must counteract this effect by picking my nose.  Ahhhh.

Oh Bill Nye, you science geek bowhunk! Why am I so inexplicably drawn? Oh, that's matter how big a mess you make doing all your little science experiments your lab coat remains clean and pressed.

The Empress of Electrolux would approve.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Pink plastic light up Jesus

Seeing that it's ten days before Thanksgiving and eleven days before Christmas retail diarrhea, considering what to gift each other for the holiday season is going to be at the forefront of the budgets of many people.

I was just discussing the subject with my little sister on the phone today.  People be shoppin'.  Most likely for the same crap they bought people last year, or the year before.  Let's buy each other Snuggies and sip hot cocoa in front of DVD that plays a blazing yuletide fire.

Like last year I'm frustrated at the avalanche of gift offerings available to me, none of it meaningful, most of it overpriced, a good portion of it lacking quality construction in that it might last to the next Christmas.  Especially children's toys.  Crappity crap crap crap.  Overpriced, overhyped, overly noisy, crap.

Whatever happened to simplicity?   Whatever happened to wanting a dolly or a stuffed horse's head on a stick?

In the Little House books, little Laura Ingalls was thrilled with a tin cup, a pair of home knitted mittens and a single piece of grandma candy for Christmas.  What would she have done with a Playstation 3 or a Zsu Zsu Pet?  A fat load of nothing.  That's what.  She had a cup in which to stick underneath a cow and drink fresh squeezed milk from.   Hours of fun right there.

This is why I'm going to challenge my readers and other hangers on.  Let's call this the  "Unpasteurized Milk in a Tin Cup Challenge" or "The Happiness is a Warm Snuggie Challenge".

When it comes to Christmas this year, let's buy nothing that requires a battery or electricity.  This includes accessories to all your miscellaneous ownings that have an on/off switch. 

AND...yes, there is an and...

Let's buy at least one present for someone that we've never given a present to before.  Not necessarily charity but someone in your life who might not expect it.  Of course, give to charity, give a lot.  Just buy off a new friend in an effort to get them to like you.

(You thought I'd say handmake your gifts, didn't you?  You can if you want.  However, I know that blogs like Regretsy and Cakewrecks exist for a reason.)

(No, you don't have to buy me a present.)

I know that my kids do not need any more beeping idiocy in their grubby little hands.   I do not make this declaration lightly either.  My five year old son wants a Nintendo DS so badly he could kill and eat a real hamster to get one.  A battery-less Christmas will not be what he expects at all.

And now the guilt...dammit.

Really though, my goal this season is less glitz, less moving parts, less of that insane twisty tie packaging, more creativity, more imagination. 

Even crayon oriented toys require batteries these days and that's a damned shame.  Crayons weren't good enough on their own?  Now they've got to light up like slot machines?  Good lord, it's a crayon, all you need is a couple and a freshly painted blank wall and you've got happiness!

(No stuffing stockings with vibrators either.  For your significant others.  Not the kids.  Shame I had to make that distinction.)

To give my kids some credit they've not really asked for anything for Christmas except the kindergartner wanting a DS.  That's pretty decent of them to not have a case of the gimmes.  Or it could be that everything they want they know Mom and Dad won't buy because it requires selling a kidney.  The reality is that I'm getting too old to sell my eggs these days.

So, let's try it.  Let's skip the big old battery display this year.  Let's spread love to new people.  I double dog dare you...

(I said no vibrators dammit.)

Thursday, November 11, 2010

I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK!

Have you hugged a veteran today?

If you haven't, my husband, an Army veteran of Operation Desert Storm, is accepting hugs all day.  He's not discriminatory either.  You could look like this and he will still accept your hug: long as you are wearing pants.

If you are female and you look like that, well, I'd get that checked by an endocrinologist. 

This morning I hugged my husband at his insistence.  My hormones seem to be in order so this event worked out pretty good all in all.

Since then I've been gorging on a marathon of Degrassi: The Next Generation.  Which is Canadian.  In that case it's Rememberance Day and you should attempt to hug my husband coated in maple syrup wearing just a pair of Mountie pants.

Thanks for your service Sweetie.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

The toilet will still work but beware a frosty seat.

My family woke up this morning to a blanket of snow which everyone was thrilled with except me and my dumb gay cat Booger.

I have to refer to that cat by name now that I have three cats.  My first cat is the Dumb Gay one named Booger.  The other two are made up of a fat Asshole named Chumlee and a harping Diva named Beulah.  The Asshole and the Diva take turns kneading my butt like dough in the early morning hours.  I only mention that as an aside.  My readers and other hangers can take comfort in the knowledge that my butt has been well massaged. 

Another aside, Chumlee drools when he's feeling affectionate.  Just another detail to add to your butt kneading imagery.

Anyhow, I dislike snow.  It's evil and wrong.  You will never catch me skiing or shredding or sledding or whatever you abnormal people like to do in the snow.  There was a time, before puberty, where I enjoyed playing in the snow, but I've since matured. 

What's particularly evil and wrong about this weather is that my power company is having a planned outage today for four hours, starting and 1 pm and hopefully ending at 5. 

What you also need to know about the scope of this evil is that my entire town basically runs on electricity.  Not just the casinos, which I'm sure are going to flip the switch on some generators, but most everyone has electric heat and cooking facilities.  There are no gas lines in my corner of rural Nevada casino hell.  I don't have a fireplace. 

Thirdly, school is being released early for the power outage. 

So you tell me, what the hell am I supposed to do with the bulk of my day with no electricity, no heat, all this damned snow, a kneaded butt and my kids at home?

Maybe I'll run to the liquor store before it closes.

I'm kidding.


Monday, November 08, 2010

Blink...I'm awake.

Peek?  Hello?

Yeah, I'm here.  A little brainless still but here.

Hold on a minute.  I need to trim my fingernails if I'm going to type more than a Facebook status update.  Talk amongst yourselves.  I'll give you a topic.  Tea Baggers are neither into tea or bags or teabagging.  Discuss.

Ahhh...that's better.  I'm stubby fingered.  There is a pile of long nails on the desk.  Bye-bye manicure.  That's ok.  I'll sacrifice my amazing nails so I can show up here again.

Anyhow, in recent news, I turned 36 years old on Saturday.  Unlike my 35th birthday, which is a good even type number, I've taken this birthday kind of hard.  You'd think that I'd have another four years to have a midlife thing turn up but's gotta be this birthday.  This damned birthday stuck it's finger in my cake.

I don't know that it's important that I detail everything that has hit me hard about my age.  I'm in a life transition.  That ain't nothing new.  Life changes.

What's different now is that this transition doesn't have a list of bullet points I can follow.  Graduating high school and entering the adult world?  That's easy.  Go to school, get a job, pay your own bills.   Begin a family life?  No problem.  Fall in love, commit, procure babies, pets and a cabinetful of cleaning products.  Deal with poop and vomit and whining and boogers wiped on the walls and meltdowns and giggles.

Transition from several of the good old traditional roles to include a new role without a gameplan?  Confusing as hell.  I feel so behind.

This leaves me all quiet and pondery...and isolated...and has my energy levels sludging along like tar.  I'm forging something new in all things that make me ME and there isn't enough Dr. Pheel generalizations to form a mold to smoosh myself into.  Oh-pur doesn't have a powerpoint for me.

Yet, and we're still in recent news, my husband and I have worked together to find me a gameplan.  Some of the materials to sculpt my own mold.  Hopefully.  We'll know for sure shortly.

Messy materials.  Another good reason to clip my fingernails.

Thanks be to Jeebus and my tubal ligation that one of those materials is not poop.  It's been under my fingernails before and let me tell you, if my life is in transition, there's the silver lining.

I can live my life just fine without ever having to change another diaper.

Gonna go stick my finger in some leftover cake though.

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