January 31, 2006
The Bitch Is Back!
Hey, everyone, look who's back! It's Psycho Babbling Brook! Yay! I love a good Attention Whore!
Unfortunately, "Psycho" (as I call her, cuz we go way back) wasn't feeling as verbose this time. Perhaps three of her seventeen cats coughed up hairballs simultaneously, and she was forced to leave her computer? Perhaps she ran out of Cheetos and had to run to the store? Well, whatever it was, I hope it wasn't a serious emergency. I do love her so.
Or maybe she was just too tired to come at me with both guns a-blazin'? It was, after all, 11:10 p.m. last night when she wrote. Which leads me to wonder -- what's so all-fired important about my blog that one would give up valuable sleep to compose a comment so late at night? Especially one as insightful as this:
"Boring crap. Don't you have anything worthwhile to say?"
Don't you have anything worthwhile to READ? At 11:00 at NIGHT? I'm usually screwing or sleeping then, so I guess I can see where you'd be a wee bit irritable.
See, this only serves to convince me of my vast talent and wit. If someone who hates me is still compelled to read my blog so late into the night, I must ROCK!
And? How is pirate porn not worthwhile? I'm curious, Psycho, what would be some worthwhile blog topics, in your opinion? See, "boring crap" isn't exactly constructive criticism, so I don't know how to make you happy here.
It's funny -- she knows I'm gonna make fun of her. She knows I'm gonna blog about her comment. She knows you guys are gonna join me in mocking her. So why comment?
My little Psycho friend and I -- we have something in common. We're both seeking attention, just in different ways. So we're not so different after all, are we, Psycho? You and I -- just wanting to be heard. Wanting a little feedback for validation. I'm just funnier than you.
And, I'm gonna guess, better lookin'.
(Please address any comments to Psycho Babbling Brook's secret underground lair at noangel@hushmail.com.)
Posted at 01:47 PM | Comments (5)January 30, 2006
Church, Strawberry Shortcake & Porn: Yes, I'll Tie It All Together Somehow
When I was in high school, Wednesday nights at church were Youth Night. We'd have after-school open gym, class, then dinner, then choir rehersal. We also had the best Youth Director evah.
(That noise? Oh, I just set-off the Nerd Alert. Don't panic.)
We called her Bunny.
(What? I didn't name her!)
She was The Coolest. She was everything a youth director should be. She was very devout in her faith, which worked out well for us, what with the forgiveness and mercy and all. Especially when caught smoking in the alley. Or making out in the nursery.
(No, those were the other kids -- not me!)
She also knew how to be completely inappropriate. Like she would immitate the pastor during his sermon, or greet you with some perverted nickname.
Husband (who, if you'll remember, is twelve years older than me) was in the adult choir with Bunny at the time. Altho' he had a very Ned Flanders look going on at the time, he was still very cute, and Bunny liked to give him a hard time.
Upon seeing him, she would always greet him by squeezing his man-boobs. Either one-handed or two-handed -- she likes to mix it up. But it was always a beautiful moment that she chose to share only with Husband.
Fast forward to present day, I'm out of high school and of legal age, Husband and I are married, and Bunny switched to a different church.
You know all those Strawberry Shortcake dolls I sold on eBay? Well, after splitting the profits with Joe, I made $146. Seriously. $292 from little, smelly dolls. Blows my mind.
So, I treated myself to a few things, including pirate porn. It's a porno about pirates! How could I not buy it???
Husband and I are about half-way through it. (Yes, Mom, you can borrow it when we're done.) It's actually pretty damn funny, and I'm enjoying the plot. Yes, plot. Not that it's brilliant cinema, but it's quite enjoyable.
There's this one part where the captain of the pirate-hunting ship is introducing himself to a couple of prostitutes. And instead of shaking their hand or whatever, he squeezes their boobs.
And Husband goes, "Hey, that's just like Bunny used to do to me!"
Hokaaaaay. I'm out.
Posted at 02:29 PM | Comments (5)January 27, 2006
I'm Old: Documented Proof
This morning's conversation:
Husband: I have two more meetings today. It's been all meetings, all week.
PW: That sucks. We have our annual off-site department planning meeting. We usually finish early, and Boss always sends me home instead of making me go back to the office.
H: Cool. I have a meeting at 1:00 in St. Charles, and I'm not going back into the city afterwards.
PW: Wait... We're both going to be home early on a Friday afternoon?
H: You know what that means!
PW: Yeah! Let's nap!!!
Posted at 02:12 PM | Comments (3)January 26, 2006
Power Down
This morning, I had to call the I.T. Help Desk.
ITHD: What.
PW: I can't get my Lotus Notes to open.
ITHD: Reboot.
PW: I did.
ITHD: Did you power down or just restart?
PW: Restart.
ITHD: Power down.
Moments later...
PW: It still won't open.
ITHD: You powered all the way down?
PW: Yes. Can you just send Doogie?
ITHD: He's out sick. Everybody's out today. I'll call Doogie at home.
PW: Tell him I changed my password yesterday, if that has anything to do with it.
ITHD: You changed your Lotus Notes password?!
PW: Yeah.
ITHD: I didn't know you could do that!
PW: Oh... Well, that's probably it then.
Posted at 02:01 PM | Comments (4)January 25, 2006
Nikki Is My Mini-Me!
Seriously! It's like she's a little Pirate Wench in training! Don't believe me? Read this:
Okay, so I have been mulling it over... and I still don't know what I want to ask. I mean there are lots of things I want to know, but what to actually ask??So I guess I should just pick something, but my indecisive nature has already edited this short email 12 times.
And now it has been 5 minutes and GMail keeps autosaving this as a draft. Stupid GMail, pressuring me and shit.
*sigh* Here goes nothing. Being of sound mind and gigantic breasts, tell us all about a time said breasts came in handy for serving your evil purposes. Having used my own breasts to get myself broadcast on the jumbotron at a hockey game last night, this is a topic near and dear to my heart. And no, I didn't flash anyone, I just bounced around a lot. I'd never been on the jumbotron before and figured that was the quickest way to get there. And I was right.
SEE?!
Well, I've been mulling over the answer -- just like she had to mull over the question! Because we're so alike! Get it?!
Anyhoo, this is a difficult topic because it'd probably be faster to list the times I haven't used my breasts for my own evil purposes. Hell, I've even used my hair for my own selfish benefit.
I had a HHHHHHHHHHHOTT boyfriend who stupidly dumped me because he "needed space" to "find himself" or whatever. Which shouldn't have taken very long because he wasn't that deep. (Marty, you know who I'm talking about.) But I didn't want to have to wait for Sharpie McEinstein to figure that out.
He went to pee before driving me home... yes, brought me over to his apartment, gave me the speech, and then had to drive me home. See? Brilliant. While he was in there, I ran my hands through my long, silky, blonde hair, got a few strands and left them on his pillow. (Yes, Mom, we were sexually active -- try not to die of the shock.)
A few days later, to no one's surprise, I got the Can-we-talk? phone call, after which our couple-hood was reinstated. And? He totally admitted that he found some strands of my hair on his pillow, which made him miss me horribly and realize he couldn't live without me.
It was all I could do to keep from laughing maniacally and rubbing my hands together.
But this is about boobs.
And I've seriously pondered this topic and even kept myself awake at night, playing with them and trying to come up with a good answer. But I just can't, and I'm so sorry, Darling Nikki.
See, breasts and evilness and Evil Breast Usage are such an ingrained part of my everyday life, there's not really a time that such an occurrence stands out. I'm using The Girls to manipulate all of you right now, and you don't even realize it. It's not even a conscious decision anymore!
I guest my Ultimate Act of Breast Evil was nabbing my second husband and turning him from a Leg Man into a Breast Man. And such is the power of my hogans that I got a car for an engagement present, a yellow lab puppy for a wedding present, my own computer, and all the money and storage I need to keep the Barbies living the lifestyle to which they -- and I -- have become accustomed.
But is that really evil?
Well, maybe a little.
Posted at 01:42 PM | Comments (5)January 24, 2006
I'm Stupid: Scientific Documentation
Well, great. Now I know who's been tutoring the dog. It's Nephew!
Got his report card. It's all E's and S's and S+'s. (That's Excellent, Satisfactory and Satisfactory Plus, for those of you out of grade school. Good God, I hope there's no grade schoolers reading this. I'm not talking about anime or basketball, kids! Move along! Nothing to see here! Go text message your friends -- I think they went to Starbucks without you!)
I hope Older Sister doesn't show those grades to Mom. He's totally showing-up all of her children. Pfeh. I'll bet he gets picked first for kickball, too. Show off! You think you're so cool!
Oh, and? He likes to keep sharp by spelling everything he says, like entire sentences. He'll be all, "C - A - N - W - E - P - L - A - Y - O - U - T - S - I - D - E - W - H - E - N - Y - O - U - A - R - E - D - O - N - E - C - L - E - A - N - I - N - G ?"
And O.S. is like, "Wait -- let Mommy catch up! ...Which yout's have redone what now?"
He's certainly come a long way from "He wanted a bigger sun and there was a bigger sun."
Then O.S. was giving him vocabulary words to spell, and she got to, "Spell as."
And he's all, "I'm not even gonna answer that one."
One time, Younger Step Daughter asked me to help her with her homework. Yes -- one time. She asked, "Can you help me with this math problem?"
I took a quick look. "Um, no."
She laughed cuz she thought I was giving her a hard time, "No, really!"
"No, really. I can't. I don't even know what those symbols mean. Wait -- I think I recognize one -- is that a seven?"
"I'll ask Dad."
She was eleven at the time.
No wonder the dog is gaining on me.
Posted at 02:22 PM | Comments (0)January 23, 2006
F-E-E-D, F-E-E-D-I-N-G, F-E-D,
Husband arrived home the other night around 6:00, Daisy's usual dinner time, and I came up from the basement to greet him and chit-chat while he changed clothes.
H: So, how was your day?
PW: Enh. Boring.
Daisy: [sits at Husband's feet and bores holes through his skull with her stare]
H: Um, did you F-E-E-D Daisy?
Daisy: [freaks out and starts doing her pony-dance, which is where she keeps her back feet on the floor and hops on her front feet because I don't know it's just what she does]
PW: Dude! Does she know what you just said?
Daisy: [stops dancing and looks at me]
H: I don't know. Maybeeeeeee... we should F-E-E-D her?
Daisy: [runs into the kitchen where we keep her food]
PW: Did you teach the dog to spell? NO TEACHING THE DOG TO SPELL! If we don't keep her ignorant, how are we supposed to oppress her?!
The next night, similar setting.
H:: Has Daisy been F-E-D?
Daisy: [stares blankly at the blank wall]
PW: No. And thank God she hasn't learned to conjugate.
H: Yeah, she starts conjugating verbs, and we're gonna have to put her to sleep.
Posted at 03:06 PM | Comments (3)January 20, 2006
Pompeii
I'm still waiting, Nikki...
No real blog today, kiddies. No time to write! Played hookie from my cube and spent most of the day downtown with Husband. We went to see dead people writhing in agony, and then had lunch!
Lunch was with Bob, the Most Profane Man Ever, and I must say -- he's much less profane when he's sober. I almost like him better drunk. And now I know way more about Chicago's putrid underbelly than I ever thought I would.
Am I a hipster now?
Posted at 01:51 PM | Comments (2)January 19, 2006
"Poisonwood Bible" Book Review
This is the kind of book that strips away all my delusions and makes me realize that I'm not -- nor will I ever be -- a writer.
I don't deserve to call myself "a writer." Hell, I don't even deserve to be writing in the same language as Barbara Kingsolver. She's a goddess and a poet, and this book is tragically beautiful in the way that "Les Miserables" is tragically beautiful -- horrible subject matter, beautiful setting.
(And if you saw "Les Miserables" the show and didn't like it, then you are either a soulless, godless pinko-commie or Heather's Fiance.)
Here's an example of her breathtaking prose:
"Imagine a ruin so strange it must never have happened. First, picture the forest. The trees are columns of slick, brindled bark like muscular animals overgrown beyond all reason. Every space is filled with life: delicate, poisonous frogs war-painted like skeletons, clutched in copulation, secreting their precious eggs onto dripping leaves. Vines strangling their own kin in the everlasting wrestle for sunlight. The breathing of monkeys. A glide of snake belly on branch. A single-minded army of ants biting a mammoth tree into uniform grains and hauling it down to the dark for their ravenous queen. And, in reply, a choir of seedlings arch their necks out of rotted tree stumps, sucking life out of death. This forest eats itself and lives forever." --Barbara Kingsolver, The Poisonwood Bible
Okay, here's me describing the same scene:
"OMG, that place was so totally disgusting, what with all the ants and lizards and stuff -- I felt like I was having an acid flashback! Cuz, um... that's what I heard they're like. And then I tripped over a tree stump and tore a hole in my glitter jeans. VAGINA!"
Seriously, I'm gonna go drink a whole box of wine now.
Posted at 12:50 PM | Comments (7)January 18, 2006
Darling Nikki
Well, someone named "Nikki" commented on my blog, and I can't figure out if that's Nicholle being adorable, or someone else -- someone new that I don't know in real life. Will the real Nikki please step forward?
Because YOU, Nikki, are my 700th Commenter! Yay!
It's a dream come true, I know.
Well, Nikki, I'm sure you know the drill. You get to ask me any question in the world, and I have to answer it -- honestly and to the best of my ability -- here on my site. (If you need some inspiration, check out some other questions I've fielded.)
And you know, I just couldn't be more tickled that this (dubious) honor is going to someone whose comment was, and I quote:
You. Are. The. Greatest. Period.
I mean, seriously. Could I love her any more?
Posted at 01:14 PM | Comments (5)January 17, 2006
So Many Martinis, So Little Time
Here are The Bitches of Eastwick in their New Year's Eve couture.
Note that the one in the middle is still wearing what she wore to work on Friday, December 30th. Note, also, that she has a purse in which to stow her bra and/or panties. 'Cuz bitch ain't goin' home until Sunday afternoon!
The brunette is all, "Roses, hmm? I'm still not putting that thing in my mouth."
The blonde has been drunk since Wednesday.
Posted at 02:25 PM | Comments (5)January 16, 2006
Google Sex Searches Brought Them Here
Things People Were Hoping To Find When They Found My Site Through Google
pumpkin pirate
I'm confused. Do you eat this or hump it?
wilma flinstone hairdo
When the hell did I blog about anything even remotely resembling this? I've never even mentioned Wilma!
how to shave your cooter
Get someone else to shave it for you. DUH.
my barbie swallows
I totally have this shirt.
monkey with a fez
Now this I can understand! Who WOULDN'T want a monkey with a fez?!
smelly pirate hooker costume
Why smelly? Just... WHY?
vagina rippage
OW! Oh, God, who Googles that? I mean, shouldn't they be RUSHING TO THEIR DOCTOR?!
pictures of woman peeing in the mens restrooms
Someone was very bored at work.
sister mom bro sex
I hate people.
elephantitis of the testes
Now I KNOW I've never blogged about THIS.
slutty bank tellers
Bank tellers? Really? I can understand waitresses, flight attendants, nurses -- but bank tellers? Huh. I'll have to keep an eye out for that.
fur sheepskin sexy girl
If there's one thing this person takes away from my site, I hope it's this -- sheepskin is never sexy. Put down the Ugg boots and back away!
bound gagged babysitter turtleneck
Okay, I get the first three words, but why is the turtleneck an integral part of the fantasy? To cover up the hickies? I don't get it.
sin grandma
This will be the tattoo I get to celebrate my 80th birthday.
how to earn beads in ymca indian princesses
I always feel bad for the well-intentioned, unsuspecting house-frau who searches for something innocuous and ends up finding my body parts. Oh, and remind me to tell you about Indian Princesses sometime. The YMCA would NOT approve.
feel me up school bus story
I never got felt up on the school bus. Not even while riding to and from track meets with the boys' varsity track team. I had nothing worth feeling when I was in school.
latex soccer moms
*sigh*
what do you call the string on the outside of a bologna slice
I call it GROSS. Buy some fucking Oscar Mayer, and you won't have this problem!
liv tyler - plaid skirt - red panties
I'm hope Husband appreciated the irony when he searched for this and was directed to my site. I know it's you, honey!
old hot sexy mom like to go and cam with men .com
And "cam?" "Cam" being a... verb? Do they mean "camp?" And is the ".com" really necessary? I mean, he's searching the internet. Isn't the ".com" kind of implied?
schoolgirl long legs white sox small panties
Marty. Quit it.
nicki the crippled
OH! MY! GOD! How appropriate! Nichole is TOTALLY crippled by her paranoia and SO MANY OTHER THINGS! BWAAAAAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HA! (I'm sorry -- I know this is something that only she and I will find funny.)
lucy liu bound and gagged
If you find this, please send me the link.
wife find new ways to enjoy husbands dogs confessions
Oh, come on! That's just animal abuse! Leave the dog alone! For heaven's sake!
starting eating alot of peanut butter is that a sign of crystal meth
I'm no doctor, but I'm going to have to give a big fat "NO" to this one.
January 13, 2006
Things I Should Be Able To Do
Don't you hate when you forget how to do something that you've been doing for 99% of your life?
Like swallowing. You're drinking your milk, washing down that Ho-Ho, and all of a sudden, you're not sure which tube the milk goes down. Do liquids go into my body via the same tube as solids? That makes no sense, since they exit my body via different shutes! What do I do??? In a panic, you pick the windpipe and are immediately reminded that you are an idiot because you suck at something you've been doing since you were born! People too young to tell their fist from a speculum can swallow better than me! I'm a failure!
And walking. Now, I can't say I've ever really mastered walking, but on flat concrete, wearing shoes I wear five days a week/eight hours a day, with no gum in my mouth, you'd think I'd be able to propel myself from car door to office building door without incident. But you'd be wrong if you thought that because, earlier this week, I fell off of my shoe and bent my ankle in half. Fell. Off. My. Shoe. Sheer genius. Be sure to catch me this weekend in the log-rolling contest!
And biting your tongue. Like your mouth can't tell the difference between food and body part. Between dinner, which tastes like pizza, and tongue, which just... tastes. So you bite your tongue because, hey, that's never been in here before! That sharp pain that causes your eyes to water and your chin to shoot down into your neck, is really saying, "Please don't chew me up and swallow me because you'll probably need me tomorrow when you want to close an envelope or fix Boy Child's hair."
In conclusion, I'm a 'tard.
The bench will now hear any opposing arguments.
Posted at 01:31 PM | Comments (4)January 11, 2006
S.A.D. & Catfight
It's been two freakin' weeks since we Chicagoans have seen the sun, and it's very existance is fading from memory. Truth becomes legend, legend becomes myth, and those things which should never be forgotten... are lost.
I think I'm developing S.A.D., Seasonal Affective Disorder. No, really! Check out this list of symptoms!
Sleep problems: Usually desire to oversleep and difficulty staying awake but, in some cases, disturbed sleep and early morning wakening. (Check. I do all this. My sleep is disturbed, I wake up way before my alarm clock and can't go back to sleep, even tho' I desire to oversleep, and I'm pretty much nodding off as I type this. Which should explain the total lameness of today's post.)
Lethargy: Feeling of fatigue and inability to carry out normal routine. (Check. I didn't even start this post until 1:30 today.)
Overeating: Craving for carbohydrates and sweet foods, usually resulting in weight gain. (Checkity-check-check-CHECK! Last night, the chicken and rice I made for dinner didn't turn out right, so I decided that Coldstone Creamery was a perfectly legitimate dinner alternative.)
Depression: Feelings of misery, guilt and loss of self-esteem, sometimes hopelessness and despair, sometimes apathy and loss of feelings. (Check. Well, except for the loss of self-esteem. That'd never happen. I'm too fabulous.)
Social problems: Irritability and desire to avoid social contact. (Check. If by "social contact" you mean "being at work.")
Anxiety: Tension and inability to tolerate stress. (Check. If by "stress" you mean "bullshit.")
Loss of libido: Decreased interest in sex and physical contact. (This is where the test becomes suddenly inaccurate.)
Mood changes: In some sufferers, extremes of mood and short periods of hypomania (overactivity) in spring and autumn.
Hmm. I seem to have S.A.D. all year long. Must be an extreme case. I wonder if I can get disability leave for this?
Well, bearing all that in mind, we have a guest blogger for today. Matt will be describing for us the catfight that I missed.
How do you make a catfight? Sugar and spice and everything nice... NOT! More like a little attitude and a little alcohol.Some girl from the birthday party was bothering some girls with the band, waving her video camera around.
Cousin Katie comes up to sing and same girl starts hitting the mic stand (intentionally or unintentionally), messing up Katie, bouncing the mic off her teeth -- nearly spilling the bands' drinks (criminal).
Katie leaves the stage pissed and shares her feelings with her comrades. Comrades get upset... as comrades will.
Video girl continues to make the rounds, apparently further annoying the comrades.
Cousin Katie comes up for her encore in the 3rd set, and video girl is now intentionally messing with the mic stand. Katie pulls the mic from the stand and tries to continue, but is much too frustrated to do her best. Song finishes and Katie walks away from the band.
Band busts into a fine version of Sugar Ray's "Answer the Phone". Video girl is up by the band and the party. Comrade comes up to video girl to confront. I can see the tension, but still I hope for the best.
BBBBLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!
Instant mayhem. Hair pulling. High arcing punches. Flailing. Pushing and shoving. Several full beer bottles blown toward the band. Speakers stomped. Cables yanked and bent. More people running up from the audience to join in.
We tried to keep going, but it was no use. We had to save the equipment and give things a chance to settle. Brian jumped up to the mic and sang over and over, "Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be friends?" I can't remember who the song is by.
One of the combatants was thrown into the handicapped (lesbian) bathroom while the shitfaced manager (drinking tequilla with the birthday party) sorted out the disturbance.
It was HORRIBLE (that none of the girls got their top ripped off).
We went on to finish the set and we were invited back. I guess they weren't blaming us for the fight.
So there you have it. Tune in tomorrow for more of my whining and feeble attempts at blogging.
Posted at 02:06 PM | Comments (2)January 10, 2006
Today's Post Is Brought to You By the Letter V
Remember that song on Sesame Street?
One of these things is not like the others
One of these things just doesn't belong
And then they'd show us four things -- like, a loaf of bread, a gallon of milk, a stick of butter, and an El Camino -- and we had to guess which one didn't belong in the group?
Well, they'd never get away with that shit nowadays, because Elmo wouldn't want to hurt the El Camino's feelings, and sure, Mr. El Camino, you can be a jar of peanut butter if you want!
What. Evah.
Anyhoo, today we're going to play the game One of These Things Is Not Like the Others! (Great. Now I'm gonna have that damn song stuck in my head for the rest of the day.)
Remember, I was telling you about the spreadsheets I made for Heather, of the various Vegas chapel wedding packages she could choose from? Well, each hotel names their packages (much like men), and they all have themes and whatnot, and it's all very over-the-top and silly.
So, I will name all the packages for a specific hotel, and you will have to guess which one I think doesn't fit in and should be mocked and ridiculed for being different! Ready? Let's begin!
Wedding Chapel at Aladdin
1. A Moment Like This
2. I Do
3. Unforgettable
4. From This Moment On
5. Because You Loved Me
6. This I Promise You
7. Magic Carpet Ride
8. Together Forever
Now, correct me if I'm wrong (and I know you will), but I believe these are all song titles. And the one that doesn't belong is...?
7. Magic Carpet Ride
I'm sorry, this is romantic... how? Why not Endless Love? Vision of Love? Love Shack? Why not just call it Highway to Hell, for Pete's sake! Seriously -- Magic Carpet Ride? Is this a civil ceremony for lesbians only? Because that's the only rational explanation I can come up with.
Chapels at Caesar's Palace
1. Simplicita
2. Passione
3. Simchah
4. Amore
5. La Dolce Vita
I'm no linguistics expert, but one of these is not immediately recognizable as Italian. Can you guess which one?
3. Simchah
And further investigation tells us... ah, yes. "Package includes a Chuppah, Kiddish cup and Rabbi services." Well, that explains it. Heather will probably pick this one; she's a total Jewannabe.
Island Wedding Chapel at the Tropicana
1. Gardenia
2. Jasmine
3. Stargazer
4. Orchid
5. Bird of Paradise
I think all of these are flowers, but...
3. Stargazer
Can I get a ruling on this one? And if it is a flower, I think they should use the name of a flower that normal people have actually heard of before. Like Lily of the Valley, or Lilac. Those are totally my favorites!
The Forever Grand Wedding Chapel at the MGM Grand
1. Classic Elegance
2. Forever Yours
3. Always and Forever
4. Everlasting Love
5. Practice Makes Perfect
6. Conference Center
I bet you think I'm going to say "Conference Center," don't you? Well, I'm not, Mr. Smartyboots! Conference Center is merely boring, whereas the real answer is downright insulting!
5. Practice Makes Perfect
What the--? Who are they to judge? That's pretty goddamn nervy, if you ask me! What do they care if it's my second or third or fifth marriage, as long as my credit card clears! I wanna go there and be like, "Yeah, I'd like your Practice Makes Perfect package, please? And do you have a punch card or something? Cuz if I can find me a 25 year old, I'll be coming back."
The Chapel at Luxor
1. Diamonds of the Nile
2. Emeralds of the Queen
3. Sapphires of the East
4. Lady of the Rubies
I'll give you a hint: You have to be at least as anal-retentive as I am for this to bother you. Give up?
4. Lady of the Rubies
Don't they even comprehend their own pattern?! Jewel of the Noun, Jewel of the Noun! Then BAM! Noun of the Jewel! Why would they do something like that?! Such flagrant disregard for their own system is incomprehensible! Or maybe it's just that I forgot to take my meds this morning...
Sunrise and Sunset Chapels at Mandalay Bay
1. Platinum Skies
2. Opal Shores
3. Crystal Waters
4. Diamond Lights
This one is like the previous one, only even MORE insidious!
4. Diamond Lights
See what I'm saying? Skies, shores, waters -- all conjure up images of a panoramic beach landscape. Lights? What -- like flashlights? Zippo lighters? Tiki torches? WHAT LIGHTS?! Would it have been such a difficult task for them to come up with Diamond Sands? Or Diamond Moonbeams? Or Diamond Drink Umbrellas? ANYTHING!!! Gah!
Coincidentally, Opal Shores was my stage name when I was... um... dancing.
Posted at 11:16 AM | Comments (2)January 09, 2006
What kind of Texan?
Heather was in Dallas this weekend, saw this and thought of me.
I'm so... honored.
Posted at 02:25 PM | Comments (0)January 06, 2006
Bitter and Jaded
I think I've mentioned that Heather is getting married, right? Or as I call her now -- The Bride! Now, I've had two weddings, so I feel that I am justified -- nay, obligated -- weighing in on this subject.
Weddings are eye-rollingly bothersome.
First of all, so much goes into prepping for "The Big Day," and little or nothing goes into prepping for every, single, mind-numbingly tedious day after that, and that's a little whack, doncha think? Of course, The Bride! and Mord have assured me that they are going to remain as voraciously and passionately in love as they are today, for the entire duration of their marriage. So they won't have to deal with the problems that the rest of us do.
When Mord leaves his railroad-tracked BVDs on the floor for the billionth time, The Bride! will simply giggle at him, tilt her head, smile and coo, "Oh, you silly boy! What am I going to do with you?" And he'll take her in his arms and make love to her right there on the floor, both of them so swept-away that they don't even notice the poo-poo undies by their heads.
Second of all, you get the same results if you spend half an hour at a courthouse. And then you have the rest of the day to shop for furniture or go to the zoo or paint the kitchen, AND you have the money to do it! When I got married the first time, my Dad offered me $10,000 to elope. I SHOULD HAVE GRABBED IT AND RAN. Instead, I had the big wedding with the live band and Scandi-Mexican buffet and open bar and yadda yadda yadda. And after all that, it didn't even take. We were divorced four years later.
The second wedding, I wanted to elope, and there wasn't even any pending $10,000 bribe from Dad. I just really wanted to elope. But Husband had other ideas. So we compromised and had a small, casual wedding. No flowers, no band, no white dress (obviously), no booze -- heck, I wasn't even wearing underwear, that's how bare-bones our wedding was.
Minutes before the wedding was to begin, I was peeing one last time with Egrau. As I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, doing one last face check, Egrau said, "Oh my God, you have V.P.L. so bad."
"Really? What should I do?"
"Take 'em off!"
"What?!"
"You're gonna be standing at the front of the church, and for an hour, all anyone is going to see of you is your butt! Take off your underwear!"
So I did, and she stuffed them in her purse. Classy.
...
Where the hell was I going with all this? Oh yeah! I was gonna mock The Bride!'s wedding planning. The Bride! had sixteen pages of single-space typed notes on all the wedding chapels in Las Vegas.
Did I mention she's getting married in Vegas? Uh-huh. Oh she's totally eloping -- she's just making the rest of us follow her there. I'd better get to see some elaborate show with midgets and pyrotechnics and drag queens and unicorns, or I'm gonna be really pissed.
Anyhoo, the enormity of all the chapel info was making her (even more) mental, so I -- in my anal wisdom -- put it all into a couple of spreadsheets for her. Spreadsheets with lots of columns, comparing various wedding packages, which all fit neatly onto 8.5" by 11" paper for printing. She should carry these spreadsheets instead of bouquet -- that's how beautiful they are.
I'd like to say more, but this post has already run too long. I guess I didn't realize how much I wanted to talk about ME today, so The Bride!'s come-uppance is just going to have to wait until tomorrow.
Posted at 03:10 PM | Comments (5)January 05, 2006
Three Reasons Why Getting a Professional Massage Is Like a Good Romp In the Sack
1. It inexplicably makes my nipples hard.
2. I leave there with my hair mussed, my mascara smeared, and my bra in my coat pocket.
3. I'm sore -- yet content -- the next morning.
Posted at 01:14 PM | Comments (4)January 04, 2006
Bedtime for Bonzo
Because I'm am old and lame and Husband has me in training to be a damn farmer so that I get up before dawn and go to bed at 9:00, we don't party on New Year's Eve. Oh, we threw a posh party on New Year's Day, with BBQ pizza and cocktail weiners by candlelight, but there were no roadside sobriety tests for us.
Billi, on the other hand, is a total party chick, so we had Boy Child and Girl Child sleep over at our house that night. We ate pizza and watched SpongeBob and spread all the toys in the house in an even layer over the basement floor, so it was a full evening for all of us.
Here is the account I have prepared for Billi:
4:15 Boy Child falls asleep for the whole one-hour car ride from Billi's house to ours. Gathering his strength. Biding his time...
7:15 Boy Child is hungry for some dry cereal, sees right past the Cheerios, Life and Oatmeal Squares and -- although he's never seen them before in his life -- immediately recognizes the Fruity Pebbles as his one true love. I shrug and give him a bowl. Hey, Billi introduced him to chocolate and marzipan, so she doesn't have a leg to stand on if she wants to kick my ass!
8:08 "Shrek" ends, and the four of us rock out to the songs playing over the end credits. Husband throws down some moves old school. I do my patented cabbage patch, and Girl Child follows. Boy Child grabs a pole, wraps one leg around and starts bouncing up and down. And, Billi, I just have to wonder -- WHO TAUGHT THE BOY CHILD HOW TO POLE-DANCE???
8:45 Wenchie: "Okay, who's ready for bed?" Boy Child: "Not me! Girl Child!" Nice try, kid. It's nigh-night time.
9:05 Boy Child hollers for me, says he's hungry. But I know better because he's been eating dinner for the past three and a half hours straight.
9:12 Boy Child hollers for me, says he wants a cupcake. What is he -- psychic? I didn't even start making them until AFTER I put them to bed. Could he identify them from the scent of the batter? Creepy.
9:17 Boy Child hollers for me, says he wants to sleep with Girl Child. I explain that there's no railing on the bed, so he would fall and hurt himself, and Mommy would be mad at me and never let them sleep over again. What -- you expected me to be above emotional blackmail?
9:22 If that darling, adorable boy hollers my name one more time, I'm gonna lobatomize him with a shrimp fork.
9:40 It's been quiet for a while -- too quiet -- so I check to see if they're asleep. The light is on, Boy Child is out of his pack-n-play, and Daisy is on the bed with Girl Child. Lucky for them, they managed to hide the keg and hookers before I saw them. All three get a firm talking-to.
9:44 Boy Child hollers for me, says he needs Husband. Well, perhaps he needs a stern father-figure to put him down. Riiiiiiight. Husband reports back that Boy Child is "very contrite." Well played, Boy Child. I brace myself for his next move...
9:46 For the next half an hour, the Stern Auntie Voice becomes more and more pronounced as I call from my bedroom such classics as, "Hey, pipe down in there!" "Don't make me come in there!" And the ever-popular, "I'm gonna knock your heads together!"
10:15 Silence. Finally. It is over. Amen.
So. Same time next year?
Posted at 02:31 PM | Comments (3)Inquiring Minds Want To Know
Posted at 08:38 AM | Comments (1)January 03, 2006
Earning Your Pity and Hatred in 2005
I don't do New Year's Resolutions, and I don't do The Year in Review. I do (in no particular order)...
Things I Regret Doing in 2005
1. Spilling pop in my computer keyboard.
2. Doing 86 mph in Wisconsin.
3. Letting PJ and Ramone babysit my dog.
4. This.
5. Blogging about my stepdaughters.
6. Dying my hair Bozo-red.
7. Taking PJ on vacation with me.
8. Purchasing and wearing The Hair Cage.
10. Being a horrible mommy and letting my dog run away.
Posted at 12:02 PM | Comments (3)January 02, 2006
Happy New Yarrrrrrr!
The Christmas Shower Curtain
The one thing Husband hates above all the world's evils.
Posted at 04:01 PM | Comments (1)