first impression fail

do you give any thought to first impressions? i hardly ever do. i've been told that i come across as "short and snappy" and then latter had it clarified that she wasn't referring to my lack of height, but my big mouth. and i've been told in more recent years that i seem really conservative, but that turns out to be a pretty big surprise after you dig a little deeper and hear some of the stories of my life.

but there's one story of first impressions that stands out to me. it pains me to remember it.

when chris and i first got married, we lived in a little duplex in a little college town in east armpit tennessee. he was in school during the day and at work every evening, so i didn't see very much of him. i was lonely and bored because i couldn't find a full time job, i had no friends and we didn't have internet.

some guys moved in next door and they were just a little bit younger than us. it seemed like we would probably get along and we all smoked outside together a couple times over the weekend when they were moving in.

a few days later, chris was at work and i'd rented a movie that only had a one night rental time, so i would need to watch it without him. i didn't feel like spending yet another night alone on the couch, so i went and banged on the door of the new neighbors. i had the movie in hand and said i was wondering if they might like to watch it.  the guy, daniel, said yes and tried to take it out of my hand and close the door, but i held on and said that i was asking if they'd like to watch it with me.

this seemed to be surprising to them, but not necessarily unpleasant, so it was decided that we'd watch it in their place since smoking in the house was allowed over there and was outlawed in my house.

it was a little bit awkward since we really didn't know each other, plus i was a married woman approaching two single guys to hang out while my big husband was at work. but we all settled in to watch the movie and i was feeling pretty good about maybe making some new friends.

the problem started about halfway through the movie when there was suddenly a pretty raunchy scene. there was definitely some boobage and some awkward noises which caused my face to flash hot and red. i was afraid to look away. afraid to look at either of the guys. i felt sick to my stomach, but frozen to my seat.

no one spoke through the rest of the movie. when it was finished, daniel said, "i think we all need a cigarette after that."

thankfully we were all able to laugh about it later and i assured them that i normally don't take soft porn to strange guys' houses and ask to watch it with them.

i'm pretty sure that was one of the worst first impressions i ever made.

spirit week at the office

we were just watching a show where there was an office scene. in the background was a woman holding a teapot and wearing a belly shirt. chris shook his head and said, "she's the one who ruined casual friday for everyone."

that sent my brain off onto a rabbit trail where i was thinking about myself working in an office. it's been a very long time since such a thing was true, but if it were, i'd like casual friday. in fact, i'd love it if each day had a theme.

wouldn't it be fun if every week was like spirit week in school? mondays would become monster monday. we'd wear things of a monstery nature or maybe just a giant eyeball and a green suit and go for a mike wazowski look.

i'm thinking we go for hootchie tuesday which will allow the women to indulge their urge to dress like a skank on a day other than just halloween. or for those who are more conservative, maybe just some subtle fishnets and hooker pumps. for the mens, maybe they could unbutton their shirts a bit and splash on too much cologne, like they're headed for a club.

wednesday definitely needs to have a wig theme. it doesn't matter if it's something long and platinum that looks like it came straight from dolly parton's dressing room or if you want to go to with a rainbow affro. this would be a great opportunity for men with male pattern balding to test drive that toupee that they bought but haven't yet had the balls to wear in public.

we'll have throw-back thursday which leaves plenty of room for interpretation. anything retro will do. maybe this is the chance to raid your dad's closet and repeat some of the outfits you tried out in highschool. or maybe you've got some leg warmers you're just itching to wear. guys, if you still fit that miami vice pastel jacket with the rolled up sleeves, i suggest you break it out and take it for a spin. i'm sure the ladies will love it.

casual friday sounds mighty boring after that lively line up, doesn't it? so i think we should change it to furry friday. there are a lot of people out there with the urge to wear fur and this will be exactly the chance they've been looking for. be subtle with just a tail and ears or go whole hog with that mascot suit you've been storing in your attic since college.

it just about makes me wish i could go back to work again. i've got a great little wig i've been dying to wear again.

a year without swearing

i've mentioned before that i have an affinity for swearing. i enjoy some strong and offensive language when it's used in the right context. it makes me laugh when other people do it, particularly when it catches me by surprise, if they're of the generally starched variety of human.

i never swore out loud until i was 20, but when i turned 20, i decided to try out anything and everything i'd ever wanted to do with no regard for the wishes of my family or church buddies. i suddenly sprouted a blatant disregard for all things proper and appropriate and it was like the flood gates of my potty mouth sprung open and the filth poured out.

it wasn't long before i realized that i had become terribly annoying and had to tone it down so that i could stand to be around myself. i learned that the colorful words should be primarily used as "passion" words rather than standard fare for chatting.

the whole reason i've even mentioned this is because i've decided to remove the potty-mouthery from my vocabulary for the year of 2012, including my finger vocabulary. i've felt the push from God to clean it up this year. i've got to be honest here - i'm not very happy about it. i like cussing. and the thought of going a whole year without it makes me feel a ridiculous sense of loss, bordering on mourning.

earlier in the day chris got ticked about something and let fly a lovely string of expletives.  i felt like a dieter being teased by an inconsiderate loved one, packing brownies and potato chips into his mouth right in front of my hungry, drooling face.

i don't know how this will turn out. it may be simply a year long filth hiatus or it may become a habit that i will eventually see as an improvement to my life. in the meantime, i wish there was a patch i could wear to take the edge off. i think i'm twitching.

big cat quilt week

whenever it's getting close to time for a big holiday or the end of the school year, kids tend to get twitchy and have a hard time concentrating on school work. it's almost a losing battle to try to do anything that will require serious brain activity, so i decided that this week, our last school year of 2011, we would spend the week learning about big cats. national geographic has a channel that's all animal shows all the time and this week their theme is big cats, so that was my inspiration. i knew brooke would love it and it was the perfect way to spring board us into a short unit study about a topic that won't be difficult to keep her engaged in. we cleared the shelf in the library for all their big cat books, we've been watching lots of educational shows and we've been making christmas presents for our people.

this was also a good way for me to have enough time sitting still when i wasn't exhausted or straining my eyes for hours in the evenings to work on some of the projects that i've got going for gifts. the big one that i just finished yesterday is a quilt i made for my niece's american girl doll. since i can't spend much money this year, i've been finding things i could give that were free or almost free and this was the perfect thing.

i dug through my baskets of fabric for scraps and pieces that color coordinated and then cut enough squares to make a little blanket just big enough for the doll. i took some pictures of the process from start to finish.

this thing is made out of an old pair of jeans, a skirt, a dress, old pajamas, remnant bin scraps from hobby lobby, bits from my mom's sewing basket, 2 receiving blankets and a piece of fabric that i rescued from the trash in a house i used to clean.

as you can see, i did some ironing to flatten seams, but i couldn't be bothered to get out a real iron, so i just used my curling iron. this is the perfect tool for ironing other little things like collars and the front line along the buttons on a button down shirt too.

i'm very happy with the end result. i did every stitch by hand, most of them sewn while sitting on my floor in front of the tv or while curled in a corner of the couch.

i kind of wish brooke liked stuff like this so that i could give it to her in order to see it more often, but she really just doesn't give a crap. she looks at dolls the way most little girls look at giant rubber spiders. she admired the quilt but reminded me not to get any funny ideas about giving to her because she didn't want it.

hopefully it will be well received by another little girl who loves all things girlie and pretty. now i just need to get it wrapped before one of my cats claims it and decides to curl up for a long winter's nap.

the fiasco of '87

i posted this right after thanksgiving last year, but i think i had all of 30 followers then, so i thought i'd repost since it's the story of my most memorable childhood christmas.

all through our growing up years, my brother and i almost always knew where our parents stashed our christmas presents. they'd told us the real deal on santa when we were only 4 and 5, so it only went to reason that if there was no santa, then the gifts must be stashed somewhere nearby. it wasn't long before our parents wised up to our snooping and put a padlock on the basement cupboard where the goodies were being stored. that shut us down for a few years... until we moved into a new house that didn't come equipped with such a conveniently lockable storage space.

it didn't take us long to start up our snooping ways afresh when we moved and realized that the hiding options were limited. we figured that the most secure location in the house was probably our parents' bedroom, so we took a divide and conquer approach and it wasn't long before we hit pay dirt. we found stuff in the dresser drawers and a bonus batch of loot in the bottom of their closet.

we kept up the digging and sneaking each time my parents were expected to be out of the house for at least half an hour. it seemed like that left us enough of a buffer to check for any newly acquired goodies and still get out without being caught. we'd keep each other informed if we found gifts clearly intended for the other so that there would be no surprises come christmas morning. if we only had limited time, we'd hit the closet first because that's where mom kept the good stuff. the dresser was mostly the piddly stocking stuff like gum, cheapie toys and maybe some bags of rubber bands (we loved to shoot each other with them).

by this time we were probably 11 and 12 and we'd done the sneaky spying for at least 2 years, undiscovered. our parents had laid down the law at some point and made it perfectly clear that if they ever found out we'd been peeking at our presents, those very presents would be returned to the store and we would not get them.

we thought we were master spies. we thought we'd never get caught. we thought wrong.

i clearly remember being deep into the pile on mom's side of the closet, admiring the cute new clothes i'd be getting in just a few days. chris was digging through his own future belongings...when we heard a noise. we both froze for a moment before starting to frantically stuff things back into the spaces where we'd found them. we usually tried to be precise about putting them away, but this time it was more about speed so we wouldn't get caught with our heads tangled in mom's dresses and our fingers in the proverbial cookie jar.

we weren't fast enough. in less time than we'd have dreamed possible, mom had made it up the stairs and into her bedroom and caught us in the act of spying. there was no way to deny it. the evidence was plain as day for all of us to see. and i've got to give my mom credit for thinking on her feet because she separated us right away and gave us paper and pens and told us to write down everything we'd found. since we'd made sure to keep each other informed about every scrap we came across, we couldn't plead ignorance about anything, even if we hadn't laid eyes on it ourselves. and since we were separated and didn't know what the other would write, we had to put it all down there, on paper, to damn ourselves or risk even further punishment for trying to lie by omission. HO-LY CRAP!

she compared our lists and consulted with dad; all the while we tried to hide away where we wouldn't be seen and might possibly be forgotten about altogether rather than face the dire consequences that we knew were coming our way. i don't remember any yelling, just that eery silence that should never exist in a happy home with 4 lively kids. silence...

it seemed like it would never end. we whispered together about whether or not they'd actually go through with their threats. they were usually pretty solid about sticking to what they'd said, but in this case, surely they wouldn't take away our whole christmas! surely they loved us enough to have pity on our souls. if there was any love in the world, they would have to change their minds and let us have all those beautiful presents in their sullied stash.

a couple days later, it was christmas eve. it was a saturday. dad didn't have to go to work that day, so it was decided that it was time for the presents to all be returned. my dad and brother drove around town and took back all the gifts that we'd thought we would be getting. i stayed home and helped mom cook and bake the festive food. i wasn't mad at my parents because in my heart, i knew that i'd broken the rules. i knew that i wasn't exempt from the rules and that there were repercussions for my actions. i was sad, but i'd learned a valuable lesson that i knew would stick with me for my whole life. if mom and dad said it, i could be darn sure they meant business, even in the things that hurt them too.

the next day, the space under the tree was pretty sparse. mostly just gifts for my little sisters and the ones that chris and i were giving to the family. we didn't wake up at 3am ready to pounce on our stockings. we got some sleep for a change and we woke up calm rather than hyper. we actually remembered the true meaning of christmas for once because we weren't distracted by all the presents we hoped for or got.

as it turned out, we got a few little stocking things each. they must have been hidden somewhere else where we hadn't discovered them yet. i got the fake nails that i'd been dreaming of. i'd always had crappy nails and wanted to have long, luxurious nails to tap constantly on any hard surface, but my parents had never thought i was old enough for them. this was my lucky fingernail year. and i also got the jean jacket from the gap that i'd been coveting for so many months. it was one of the things that i'd been so excited to find in the closet and was heart sick knowing it was going back to the gap to be owned by some other girl who'd be cooler than me.

i was shocked and amazed to find this most precious item wrapped up under the tree because i was sure it went back to the mall with everything else. my brother also got his most desired item. my parents told us that even though we'd broken the rules and we didn't deserve to receive these gifts, they were having mercy on us. like Jesus had mercy on the world by dying on the cross for all of us who didn't deserve his love and forgiveness.

that's a lesson that i'll never forget.

goals - i have some

goals are one of those things to which i don't give much thought, most of the time. unfortunately, i'm not one of those driven people who feels that internal need for success and accomplishment. i don't have big mental or written lists spelling out clearly what i hope to do before i die. or in the next ten years. or tomorrow. i can understand the logic and benefits, but i can rarely drum up much enthusiasm for an honest effort.

my goals, if i think about them are things like,

1. don't eat cheese for every single meal.


2. try to remember not to wear the pants that squeeze the muffin top the worst unless i'm wearing a loose fitting shirt.


3. become financially secure enough to be able to go to the grocery store and buy all the things on the list in the same day.


4. become financially secure enough to be able to purchase both christmas presents and much needed shoes for the girl's growing feet without having to figure out which is more important.

OR

enough about finances. it makes my brain hurt to think about it.

5. reach 200 blog followers before 2012.


6. learn how to flap my arms and fly when i jump off the stairs.
oh wait, that's one of brooke's goals. please disregard.


6. cause people to leak. any form of leakage is acceptable. tears, drool, spewed beverages, puke, piddle. i figure if there's some type of leakage, then i must have had an imact and impact is always a good thing.


7. never ever be bland. vanilla is the enemy. spice is my friend.


8. never shave my head again.

i can't think of any more. eight goals isn't so bad, i guess.

are you a goalie? what are your goals?

snowflakes

after my cranky anti-decorating post of last week, i thought i'd change things up a little bit and post a video that brooke and i made a few days ago. we were making paper snowflakes for the girl's room because even if i don't love decorations so much myself, my brookie does and i do love a good, easy craft. we posted pictures of our finished snowflakes on facebook, leading to a bunch of comments from people saying they don't know how to do them and a picture from my cousin showing the shrapnelly disaster that was her first attempt at the flakes o' snow.

that motivated me to make a little tutorial of how to fold and cut the paper to create a thing of wonder. okay, that's totally an exaggeration, but it does show how to easily make these things if you're so inclined. and it was pointed out by a bloggy friend of mine from across the country, daniele from creatinglearningflying that it was interesting to hear our voices. i always like to hear how my blog friends sound when they post a vlog or other video, so here we are.

now go make some pretty snowflakes. or don't. mazel.

what it's NOT about

i have mixed feeling about christmas. of course i loved it when i was a kid. i would wake up around 2:30am and then my brother and i would try to keep our giddy selves occupied quietly until 5am when we were allowed to bust open our stockings. we woke the parental units about 7 and then started on the present frenzy in the living room. there were freshly home baked cinnamon rolls to gobble and gifts that were just what we wanted.

we read and talked about the biblical version of the christmas story in an effort to remember what it was all about. we gave birthday presents to Jesus and ate sugary goodies. there were so many traditions and the reasons to feel happy were endless.

as an adult i've tried to find my way to some traditions of my own. things that are special to me or make it feel like the christmas season. but i lack. i love giving gifts to the people i love, but i lack money to buy great things. i lack ideas for how to give gifts that are free or inexpensive, but still meaningful. i lack motivation to decorate.

for the past several years, brooke and chris have done the majority of the holiday decorating. i wouldn't care if we did no more than erect a christmas tree with lights and call it a day, but that's not enough for those who share my home. they need more, more, more! i tolerate it. i try not to display my lack of enthusiasm for all the red and green pretties being sprinkled, plopped, strung, wound, hung and dumped around my space. they make my people so happy, but for me, they cause the exact opposite reaction.

see how nice and clean and pretty this looks?
nothing overwhelming or all consuming about the decor in this room.
just the way i like it.

i don't know why, but decorations make me feel claustrophobic. they feel like clutter and chaos. they're like noise to my eyeballs. in very small doses, decorations feel nice and pretty, but the more there are, the more i feel like the walls are shrinking in around me. like every time i walk into a room that's heavily froo-frooed with shedding greenery and bows and feathers and angels, i can feel myself tense up and it's as if there's an internal stereo blasting inside my head. i want to get away from it. i want to avert my eyes. i don't want to let any part of my skin or clothing brush against that fake green piney mess.

omgosh, my heart rate literally started pounding when i laid eyes on this pic.
i can hardly even look at it. must ... look...  away!

in the minds of my family, i guess i'm the scrooge. probably because i wrinkle my nose like something stinks when i see a room filled with decorative pretties and hear non-stop christmas tunes for two months straight. i think part of it stems from knowing that i'll have to clean up all the bits and glitter and scraps that land all over the house. i'll have to pick up the broken pieces of ornaments that my cats have broken or little light bulbs they've bitten and shattered. i'll have to pull the cat down from the top of the christmas tree over and over.

i've declared my bedroom and bathroom to be decoration-free zones. as long as i can get ready or relax in places that haven't been infiltrated by the fluff n stuff, i'll try to keep my cool. i'll try to remember that christmas is a happy, wonderful time where we remember Jesus more than some other times of year. and i'll try really hard to resist the urge to run around screaming, knocking down or throwing outside the millions of sparkly things that surround me through the rest of the house.

women behaving oddly

i've been inspired by the post from a few days ago where there were people standing on toilets.  we thought it might be fun to work up some opportunities where we could get my mom, brooke and myself into some pics together for some three generational charm. but simply smiling for a camera in front of a picturesque backdrop isn't enough for us. oh no, we can't be that vanilla. when the wackiness is planned ahead of time, very strange things can occur.

we're the red jacket club. our motto is "red... or dead."

recycled food

you know what i hate? i hate it when i eat something and realize that it's slimy or too crunchy or in some fashion unacceptable to my mouth, so i discreetly spit it out and put it over onto the edge of my plate or bowl because i forgot a napkin. then a few minutes go by and i accidently eat it again. then, not only is it still too slimy/crunchy/unacceptable it's also now wet and cold and has that major yuck factor guaranteed to poof out my cheeks, tighten my stomach, and hunch my shoulders forward into that pre-puking position. that's when i get off my lazy rump and go get a napkin. and maybe an airline sick bag. because it's only considered good form to vomit in an upright position in the presense of others if you do it into an airline barf bag.

i'm the one on the left.

you guys really want to invite me over for thanksgiving now, don't you?

making the most of my assets

we all have things about us that we know others appreciate, right? if you've got great eyes, you play them up with makeup and flutter your eyelashes to get out of trouble. or if you've got a phenomenal ass, you swing it as you walk away if you know someone's likely to be watching. we like to be appreciated and noticed and if we can get our body to work for us, that's an added bonus.

for myself, i realized that my boobs were going to be one of my hottest assets when i was still pretty young. i believe i was 13 when i was walking down a city street with my mom; a group of teenage boys was walking toward us. as they got right up to us, they were staring at me and snickering amongst themselves when one of them said loudly, "hot damn! nice tits!" we were both dumbfounded and i'm sure i broke out in hives to have my in-coming lady lumps mentioned so brashly right in front of my mother. it was scandalous and empowering all at the same time.

as i got older, i used to occasionally cross my arms below my bust to make the most of my cleavage when i wanted something from a male who looked like he might be susceptible to my "charms." i got out of speeding tickets and i often got free services like oil changes on my car or food in restaurants.

but i haven't always treated my twins very well. for example, when i was, well, let's just say i was still young enough to be playing with markers. i really wanted a bikini, but i wasn't allowed to buy one because my parents were really conservative. so i drew one on my skin with my markers. and they weren't washable. the first two colors i used ran out partway through coloring my bikini, so there were stupid areas where the color was thin and then abruptly changed to a different color. it wasn't pretty. it didn't look like a bikini. but it sure lasted for a long time. good thing it was winter and i'd made it strapless so that i didn't get caught with my marker bikini peeking around the edges of my clothing.

and then there was my wedding dress. it looked good, but not a feasible choice for wearing with a supportive bra. there's never been a time when i've found a strapless bra that actually held the girls up without squeezing things far too tightly. so what's a girl to do when she needs her boobs to look sexy but can't wear a bra? she buys one of those sticker sets. you ladies know what i'm talking about. they're supposed to stick firmly to your skin on the under side of the hoot and pull up on the sides so that it's stuck in place until such time as you peel that wonder sticker off. i got them in place and realized that it wasn't quite working as planned, but since it was nearly wedding time, i had to figure something out.  i ripped open the spare pack that i'd purchased and positioned the second set of stickers on top of the first, attempting to wrangle the boobs into an acceptable non-tubeish shape while keeping them elevated. i had to trim off some of the sticker bits that were showing out around my arm pit and cleavage regions, but it was a "make it work" moment.

it did work and i made it through the ceremony with my tits in proper position. only later that night when i got to the honeymoon suite did i realize just how unattractive they looked in my double sticker bra. there was no way i was going to let the man see them wrapped, taped and mangled, so i pulled one of those, "i'm going into the bathroom to change into something more comfortable" lines and went slinking off to unwrap my chest in private. unfortunately, when i peeled off the stickers, the adhesive disagreed with my skin and left me with bunches of juicy blisters all across my boobies. i didn't realize just how bad it was until shortly thereafter when the brand spanking new husband ran his hand across one and jerked it back with a look of disgust because a blister had popped and squirted juicy juice onto him.

since then i've managed to take better care of my assets most of the time. and now and then i still imagine that i might be able to use the girls to my advantage if i needed to get out of a scrape.

where i belong

do you ever hang out with your family members and suddenly feel like you really belong? they say or do something and it just confirms that you belong to each other, peas in a pod, wackies in the quack shack. i get to see way more of my parents now than i have in years and it continues to amuse me how we just fit together.

when my dad suddenly takes a big, deep breath and then lets it out in a huge sigh and it's as if his spine just evaporated because suddenly his posture goes straight in the crapper and his chin is resting on his chest - that makes me love him even more because i have my own similar version of detoxing out the day and letting myself melt to the point where it's visible to bystanders.

when my mom is watching the video where the "double dream hands" guy is teaching some really hokey choreography and she suddenly starts trying to do the moves, i see myself in her. there she is, jumping around, spastically kicking her legs and waving her arms around while laughing herself silly, and i know that i belong because that's exactly how badly i'd do it too if i'd gotten the wild urge to participate.

we went to see a matinee a few days ago and because we all seem to suffer from SBS (shrinking bladder syndrome) we stopped in the bathroom before finding seats. we were the only ones in there and it was a big bathroom, so it was entertaining to make funny noises to test out the accoustics. we also noticed a long line of open stalls which looked interesting because you don't usually get to observe that many toilets in a row. of course i had to take a picture because you never know when a blog post might need a picture of toilets.

but that wasn't enough for us. nope. we needed to push it a little further, so we shucked our coats off onto a bench and my mom and brooke scampered into a couple stalls while i snapped pictures.

i'm only sorry there was no one else around to take the pic so i could have been standing on that toilet on the other side of my mom. because i think that's where i belong.

if you need anything...

you know how people like to say, "if you need anything, let me know"? and they always say it with a gentle smile, perhaps with a compassionate nod of the head. they sound like they mean it, but do you think they really do? and does anyone ever take someone up on one of those open ended offers of help?

i would like to propose that we start making specific requests whenever someone is kind enough to make one of those statements. we should make our needs known to our kind hearted well wishers.

next time you're at church and a polite lady with a southern accent asks how you're doing, tell the truth. tell her that you've been feeling pretty crummy lately and more tired than you usually admit. tell her that the bags under your eyes look like football makeup, but thank the kind Lord for some concealer so you can show your face in public. she'll likely pat your hand and say something like, "if there's anything i can do to help, you just let me know." generally we'd thank her and go on our cranky way, but not this time. the truth has started flowing and we're on a new path now.

this time you need to say, "well, since you asked.... i sure could use some help with the kids. is there a time next week when you might be able to keep them? what days are good for you?" or perhaps you don't have kids. so instead you might say, "i sure do hate grocery shopping and since you offered, would you mind picking some things up for me? here's my list and i don't like generics."

next time you walk into a store and an artificially perky sales associate greets you and asks if she can help you with anything, the answer is yes. you should pick out an armload of stuff that looks like it might be good, preferably in at least 2 sizes each because you need to be prepared. she'll help you carry it. she offered, right? then i think you should invite her into the dressing room with you. it's always great to get a second opinion, plus since she's available, you should have her hang up all your rejects and return them to the proper racks.



when you're at the bank, making a deposit or withdrawal, the teller always ends it with, "is there anything else i can do for you today?" i think that's the right time to turn your back to him and point to that pesky spot between your shoulder blades and tell him about the itch you just can't seem to reach. you might clumsily demonstrate with the chained down counter pen how you can't ever seem to contort your arms enough to get it really well. ask him to please scratch it for you. if he doesn't make a solid effort the first time, you should lift up the back of your shirt and ask him to please not be shy because this itchy mamajama's been bugging you all day.

when next you go out to eat at one of those restaurants where they leave you with a little treat at the end, like a little cookie or a mint, watch closely. you want to be paying attention when your server pulls it out of her apron pocket and places it on the table or check. right before she walks away, she'll always ask, "is there anything else i can get for you?" that's your cue to say, "actually, i'd like a mint that you haven't been carrying around for a few hours in your apron. because (and here is where you pick it up and mush it flat between your fingers) i have an issue with eating snacks that have been melted by your pubic heat."


and with that my friends, i leave you with the hope that you'll make your needs known. don't be shy, don't hold back. they offer, you accept. the world will be a better place for us all.

flat as a pancake

we all have moments in our past that we'll remember distinctly forever. moments where we heard or saw something unforgettable. or got news that we can never un-know.

i had one of those moments when i was 23 and was working retail; i was helping to open a new store. there were about 30 people all in one room working in little clumps here and there, getting everything arranged and set up and we were freely chatting about whatever we wanted since there were no customers about us to help us regulate our conversations. i was having a good time talking with a couple ladies who i didn't really know and we were discussing that i was a newlywed and having to adjust to living with a man for the first time. one lady said, "you know what i hate about living with my husband? i hate sleeping with him. not the sex part, the sleeping part because he always rolls over on my titties and smashes them while i'm sleeping."

it was like on a tv show where you hear the screeching record and everything comes to a dead and silent stop. i stared at her in awe. i didn't know that such a thing could happen and it sounded downright awful! i was still young and perky and all my pertinent bits tended to stay close to home and fairly self contained even when they weren't wrapped up in strict undergarments. i was pretty busty, but i couldn't imagine one of the girls rolling far enough across the bed to be smashed by my bed buddy.

as the years have gone by, i've discovered the truth in that older lady's wise "protect your lady lumps in bed" advice. it hasn't been much of a problem so far, but i've definitely seen things stretching out and loosening up in the chesticle region, so the potential is clearly there.

last night, i was lying on the floor with brooke, reading her books and just talking before tucking her into bed. i rolled onto my side so i could look at her while we talked. i'm not exactly sure how it happened, but brooke apparently wanted to get something and she was using her elbow to leverage herself up off the floor. unfortunately for me, her elbow landed squarely on my left nip and dug in. i let out a blood curdling scream that reverberated around the house like a thousand gongs. i tried to pull away, but alas, i only managed to stretch out my still pinned nipple. brooke looked at me in horror, but didn't remove her offending elbow, only dug in a bit harder as she shifted to look at me.

it probably only lasted 3 seconds, but i felt like it went on for an eternity. it was long enough for me to picture myself spending the rest of my days with a gaping hole in my chest where the nip, areola and all, had been ripped right off.  long enough for me to imagine that i was going to look like a monkey with one of those floppy, drooping nipple sacks from years of having a clingy infant dangling from her breast. long enough for me to wonder if it would look the way it had when i was a nursing mom and i had to pump out the breast milk and that crazy pump machine would pull my nipples so far down into the tube that i swear they looked like thumbs.

i'm still in a little pain today, but there appears to be no lingering damage. except, of course to my pride as i adjust to the fact that i'm now droopy enough that i can be rolled on and wounded inadvertently by someone close enough for a snuggle. sigh. and so it begins.

there comes a time in everyone's life

sometimes when i write my facebook status, i like to put some thought into it. figure out a way to use words for the optimum punch. other times i go through a dry spell where the best i can come up with is, "went to the library" or "cheese is my friend."

last night i was feeling the need to status update and i was wracking my brain for a good one. i kept hearing the line "there comes a time in every woman's life when she..." but i couldn't come up with a good ending. so i decided to throw it out there like bait and just see if anyone else could come up with a great suggestion or wisdom or humor. of course it didn't take long before i got a bite. and then a couple of my girl friends copied it to their own status and got some great bites of their own.

here are some of the gems that i've peeled off the statuses i've seen where people contributed their wit and wisdom. there comes a time in every woman's life when she...

"realizes her body composition is literally 42% sharp cheddar cheese. Oh, wait, that's just me....."

hmm, that slicer looks disturbingly like that thing i used to slice up my feet.

"takes off her bra, lets the boobs drop, and has a little 'o' right there, standing in the living room."

"Realizes she should have used wrinkle cream BEFORE the wrinkles appeared."

"Prefers pants with an elastic waist."

"renounces perfection in favor of joy"

"wishes she was a man"

"looks at the guy next to her and says, "I married that!?" (this from our very own al penwasser)

and my very favorite of the night was actually the first one that arrived on the scene. my fantabulous friend rachel who never fails to make me laugh said, "throws away her crotchless panties."



in following with a couple of the other posts i've written that stemmed from something on facebook, like "if we woke up in jail" or "how did we meet, but make it a lie" i'd love to see what delightful suggestions my lovely and unerringly funny blog friends can come up with.

"there comes a time in every woman(or man)'s life when s/he..."

toga time

i've always liked the look of togas. they seem to scream "easy to wear" and "eat lots of food while still looking simply sexy." i kind of wish that i lived in the time when they were appropriate and would be fashion forward, rather than looking like i was going to a frat party.

i was just googling togas to see what the current options are and i've got to say, there are plenty of choices out there. there's the short, hootchie toga. it looks good on her, but i'm thinking the length might cause me some problems at this time in my life. i like to have some fabric under my bum when i sit down. and if i bent forward, you'd be able to see what i had for lunch.

there's the classic, conservative toga with the lovely hair and snake headband to go with it.

we have the plus sized couples option which looks like a lot of fun. there would definitely need to be an event to make these special outfits really shine. maybe chris and i can get and wear them to the next baby christening we're invited to attend.

unfortunately, i'm afraid that my dreams of lounging comfortably in my toga wouldn't turn out quite the way i'd planned. more than likely, i'd have a wardrobe malfunction and the next thing you know...

tipsy chickens x2

15 years ago, when chris and i were dating, i was living at my parents' house and i was working in a little office. one weekend, my parents and little sisters were out of town and chris was driving a limo, so he was out pretty much all night, which meant that i was left to my own devices that friday night.

after work was over for the day, a couple co-workers and i decided that we were going to go to tgifridays, across the parking lot for dinner and perhaps a drink or two. the tables were all full, so we sat at the bar. somehow i think i forgot to eat dinner that night and accidentally had about 5 drinks instead. i was drinking royal flushes, which i'd never had before (or after, for that matter) and they were just so fruity and delicious that i kept guzzling them and ordering more. eventually, my co-workers needed to go back to their lives, so they left me there because of course i assured them that i was absolutely fine and didn't need anyone to babysit me.

when i was finally ready to go, i tipped the bartender excessively, stumbled out of the bar, and back across the parking lot toward my office where my car was parked. on the way there, two men who were sitting in a parked car stopped me and asked if i had any tattoos. i did and showed them my body art. then they asked if i wanted a cigar, which i did, so i climbed into the back seat of that car with those two strange men and smoked a fat stogie. when i was finished, i got back out and kept heading toward my car. once i got there i realized that i really shouldn't be driving, so i managed to unlock my office door and bumble my way inside. i wasn't sure what i was going to do while i was in there, probably drunk page chris a few times or take a lil nap till i thought i was sober enough to drive my stupid ass home. i had only just tripped through the door when my boss returned to the office to check on me. i guess it had occurred to him that i probably wasn't in any state to be taking myself anywhere and he was kind enough to come back in order to taxi me home in his crappy chevette.

i got back to my parents' house; i went inside and collapsed into bed. it wasn't even dark yet, but i just couldn't stay awake. i took the phone to bed with me because i was hoping chris would eventually have time to call me back since i'd paged him repeatedly for no good reason.

around midnight i woke up sick and ran outside (it was closer than the bathroom) and puked by the back door, all over the ground and then crawled straight back into bed, still in my work clothes. around 3am i woke up again and by then i was approaching sober and noticed that the back door was wide open. i got a little bit nervous that i'd been sleeping with the house open and there was no one else home to protect my foolish self, so i snatched the phone out of my bed to try calling chris, but the phone had no dial tone. i ran upstairs and checked the kitchen phone. that one was dead too! i was suddenly positive that someone had cut the phone lines, snuck into the house, and i was in imminent danger of being raped and killed.

i ran straight out of the house to my parents' next door neighbor where i proceeded to bang and ring until the kind, little man came down in his pajamas to see what the heck was going on. (maybe i wasn't quite as sober as i thought) he came back to my house and went room by room with me, poking through every nook and cranny looking for the boogieman. we made it to my room last and that's when he discovered that my cordless phone had been left turned on in my bed, so the lines weren't cut, it was just off the hook. hence the lack of a dial tone. i felt rather stupid after that and walked him politely to the door and thanked him for saving me from my imagination.

i was able to reach chris after that, which was good because he'd been concerned that i'd paged him multiple times but when he called me back, he could only get a busy signal on the house phone.

the next morning i was feeling pretty stupid about my escapades of the previous night and i went out back to find a hose so i could clean off the patio where i'd hurled my royal flushes so indelicately, but the patio was practically spotless. where had the barf gone? that's when one of my sisters chickens came waddling over, pecking around the edges of the patio. finishing off the last scraps of my stupid evening till there was nothing left to show for it... but tipsy chickens.