Open mouth, insert foot

I preface this story by saying I didn't do anything wrong, really. I was asked a question, and I answered it. Honestly.

Sigh.

The fact that it's cringe-inducing is just gravy for you, dear reader.

Last week, Mom and I went into a number of antique shops in Old Littleton. We found some good stuff here and there.

While I was at the register in one store, I spotted a box of old photos. I like old photos that are a bit strange. I found one of two little boys. The way the photo was taken, their eyes were really dark, giving them an eerie, Children of the Corn vibe (I'm not including the photo in this post, and you'll know why soon enough).

The woman rang up my purchases, including the photo, and asked me what I do with old photos. I answered honestly: "I like to collect photos that are a little... off. And these little boys have crazy eyes."

[silence]

The woman straightened and said "Those boys are my grandsons."

shit.

There wasn't much more to do after that other than smile and walk out of the store.

So much for being honest with strangers.

Happy New Year, everybody!!

Dear neighbor

I don't know which neighbor you are, but your wifi handle, HORSELOVER, concerns me.

A lot.

I will openly mock you on the street

If I see you wearing this.

It's an "M&M's Celebration" fleece jacket! A wearable work of art with your favorite characters in appliqué and embroidery.

And, for the opportunity of advertising for MARS, you get to pay $99.00 (+ $9.99 shipping and service).

I'd buy mine now, but I'm waiting for the NASCAR version.

Day-after-Christmas chuckle

A hearty thanks to the department-store sales girl who pulled me aside and offered me $40 to be nasty to a customer who'd been giving her a hard time because "a customer can't get fired for being rude to another customer."

You made my day.

If Mom hadn't been with me, I might have taken you up on it.

Green

Three green things in my house that make me happy.

The succulents in my kitchen window.

Green wreath cookies made of corn flakes, marshmallows, and green food coloring that only Mom and I like.

Lola'a big green eyes.

Some resolutions I'd like to see *others* make in 2012

This might be my last post of the year (unless I get a bee in my bonnet about something next week--and that NEVER happens).

And while I'll make my own resolutions and keep them to myself (so that nobody can call me on it when I break them), I've got a list of resolutions that I'd like others to make.

• Lazy bones: No more pajamas in public
• Weirdos: If you've broken a world record for longest fingernails/toenails, cut that shit off and find another hobby
• Fellas: pull up your pants and cinch your belts
• Ladies: if you have a muffin top, go up a size; you'll look thinner as a result
• Dog owners: pick up the poop
• Republicans: resolve not to vote this election (heh, heh, heh)
• People who use an apostrophe to denote pluralism rather than ownership: cut that shit out
• Cell-phone chatterers: Hush. We don't need to hear about your yeast infection while we're trying to buy juice at Target
• Grandma: try. new. restaurants.
• Cats: stop puking on my belongings
• MTV: Cancel Jersey Shore already
• Drivers of rear-wheel-drive vehicles: stay home on snowy days
• Everybody: resolve to laugh a bit more, forgive yourself more, and enjoy more about this sweet but short life

Happy holidays! See you in 2012 (barring unforeseen bees in bonnets)!

Lawdy, I love stories like these

My friend Erin told me this gem today.

Her dad went to the grocery store on a search for pasteurized eggs. He looked everywhere, to no avail. Finally, he asked an employee if the store carried them.

Of course we do, replied the employee.

Erin's dad, tired of searching, asked the employee to come with him and point out the pasteurized eggs.

The employee led him to the egg aisle and proudly pointed out all of the free-range eggs.

See, the employee said.  These are all pastureized.

The poor boy thought pasteurized meant that the bird walked around in a pasture before laying the eggs.

Sigh...

By all means, America, let's cut education spending. Our kids are thmart enough!

Annoying verbal phenomenon

I've noticed lately? That a lot of women use this weird inflection?

And every sentence/phrase they utter? Sounds like a question?

Whether it is or not?

It drives me up a f*&king wall!

What IS that?

It makes grown-ass women sound like four-year-olds.

Learn to speak like an adult!

Sweet fancy Moses!

I'm taking part in an email chain letter recipe exchange type of thing where you send an easy recipe to the person on the top of your list and forward on to 20 or so friends, etc.

The crux of it is that the recipe must be simple enough for you to remember it (which, in turn, usually means that you've made it a bajillion times). 

I've gotten a couple of good ones that look easy, yummy, and semi-healthy.

But this one simply blew my mind.

I think ice cream might be a healthier side dish. In fact, I KNOW ice cream would be healthier (mmmmm... ice cream as a side dish). Judge for yourself.

GRANDMA'S SWEET CREAM CORN

2 lb. frozen corn
1 stick butter
1/4 cup self rising flour
1/4 cup sugar
1 carton whipping cream
salt and pepper to taste.

Cook corn and butter in a large pot, add flour, sugar, and whipping cream.
Cook until mixture becomes thick, stirring frequently.  Milk can be added if corn becomes too thick.
Season with salt and pepper to taste, and enjoy!

If any of you try this, be sure you have someone with you who can dial 911 or shock you back to life with a defibrillator.

Good luck and good eatin'!

In all of the hurry and scurry of the season

It's hard to take a moment to sit back and be thankful.

Especially when the woman in front of you in line is nasty to the store clerk because she can't understand her accent.

Or when the person ahead of you lets the door slam in your face rather than taking an extra second to hold the door open.

Or when you get the finger from a sweet little old lady during the morning commute because you stopped at the yellow rather than running the red.

Sigh. The Most Wonderful Time of the Year gets to all of us eventually.

But I AM thankful.

Thankful for

• My wonderful family (even McGrandma), who sticks by me through everything, helps pick me back up and dust me off after a stumble, and somehow finds my personality flaws lovable
• Beau, for being a good sport, giving me so many fun and funny things to write about, and for being my true blue partner in crime (even though I can't stop coughing, which annoys him to no end)
• My wonderful friends who are all so funny, kind, and supportive. I'd be lucky to have just one of you in my life; I don't know what I did right to get all of you
• My cats. I'm a lady who has cats, not a Cat Lady. But I do love coming home to two fat, furry lumps of love every night
• My job. I'm happy just to have a job at a time like this. The fact that I work with amazing people and get to read for a living is gravy
• My health. Ok, I'm not *technically* healthy right now, but I'm on the road to recovery (and it could be so much worse). When I'm healthy again, I'll be even more thankful
• All of the little things that make each day worth it. Little gestures and chuckleworthy situations are what life is made of (they're what this blog is made of too)

And...

• In an effort to be truly thankful, I'm also glad that some folks showed their true colors this year. The big bad wolf is much easier to see (and avoid) when he takes off the grandma disguise. Thanks for letting me know who--and what--you are

Last but not least, I'm thankful for every person who reads my silly blog. It makes me happy to know someone out there cares enough to read it.

I hope your holidays are, at some point at least, happy and relaxing.

And try to be patient with the bird-flipping old lady. Maybe someone slammed the door on her earlier in the day. :)

My immature, sad little pick-me-up

This week has been... not all together great (for a number of reasons; one of which is that I'm still sick, and no doctor seems to be able to fix it--we're down to voodoo and guesswork at this point).

But there's one thing that never ceases to at least make me chuckle (and at most, make me laugh until I cry and nearly wet my pants).

It's the Diarrhea Song.

That horrible song from childhood that never, EVER ceases to amuse me.

When you're walking down the hall and you feel somethin' fall
Diarrhea, diarrhea.


When you're sittin' with your honey and you feel something runny
Diarrhea, diarrhea. 

When you're slidin' into third and you feel a little turd
Diarrhea, diarrhea. 

It's horrible, I know. It's juvenile, I know. And diarrhea can be DEADLY. I know, I know, I know.

But I can't stop myself.

It's funny.

I thought I might be the only one on earth this pathetic, and then I found this blog.

Luckily, there are folks far sicker than me.

And thank God for that!

Why copyediting is essential

My friend Nick sent me this ad with a very special message. (Scroll down)

HOORAY FOR DISCUNTS!

Job security, folks! Job security.

Um...

I went to Target to buy some Toys for some Tots. I bought two sparkly dolls and a Nerf gun (the big kids here in the office love them, so I figured little kids would too).

While I searched for appropriate toys, I came upon THIS.

It's a Swimming Ariel doll. If you... ahem... wind her up, she'll wiggle her tail and swim!

How to do you wind her up?

You turn her shell!

Awesome! Where's the shell? I want to turn it and make Ariel wiggle her tail and swim!

Why it's... it's... umm...

(I cannot be the only person who sees how twisted this is.)

He sees you when you're sleeping

He knows when you're awake.
He knows if you've been bad or good. 

He knows if you've been playing with Mommy's lipstick.

He knows when you've been smoking doobies.

HE KNOWS WHERE YOU LIVE!!!

 RUN, CHILDREN! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!!

If you own and use one of these

I will pretend I don't know you on the street.

NOW IN PINK!

Worst. Fortune. Ever.

Coming in at with a close second is the "fortune" my dad got.

Yeesh. Have a nice day!

Hallmark goes alternative

Something's a little different at Hallmark this holiday season.

These ornaments look innocuous enough...

Until you find out what they really are.

And what goes better with Pierced Balls than a Pierced Snowman??

 Deck them halls, y'all!!

Feel-good story of the year (of my year, at least)

First, a little back story. My grandpa, Country Buffet aficionado, WWII hero, and husband to my McDonald's loving grandma, used to be a much-beloved head mechanic at Burt Chevrolet/Burt Toyota. He retired 25+ years ago, but the fellas he worked with still stop by and chat with him almost weekly.

Flash forward to last Thursday (his 91st birthday). Grandpa was out shoveling the front walk (what else would you do on your 91st birthday???) when a car pulled up in his driveway. A tall, broad man stepped out of the car and approached Grandpa.

Tall stranger: Hi, are you Don? 

Grandpa: Yes I am.

Tall stranger: Do you know who I am? 

Grandpa: No, not really.

Tall stranger: You're not a football fan, are you? I'm John Elway.

John Elway had recently acquired a number of dealerships, including the former Burt Chevrolet/Toyota dealerships. He hired a number of people who used to work for Burt. On a visit, the guys at the shop told Mr. Elway how wonderful it was to work with my grandpa and how nothing ever ran as smoothly after he left. In fact, they told him, Grandpa lived just around the corner.

And so Mr. Elway took it upon himself to drive to Grandpa's house, introduce himself, and have a nice chat.

That says so much to me about the character of both of the men in this story.

How wonderful would it be to have been so nice to work with that people are still talking about you 25+ years after you retire?

I love my grandpa.

And I have a whole new respect for John Elway.

WT&B holiday single!

A long time ago, I wrote about how my friend Vonn and I started a band called White Thighs & Boobies.

Unfortunately, our busy-ass lives haven't allowed us much time in the studio. But today we were totally inspired to create a brand-new holiday single!

Vonn stopped by my office with this verdict: Wearing a Santa hat when you're already a huge douchebag doesn't make you any less of a douchebag.

So very, very true.

And so very inspiring.

Look for our holiday single, Douchebag in a Santa Hat, in stores and on iTunes!

You forget how young 21 really is until...

My friend Lori is scheduled for a mammogram this month.

For those of you who have not experienced the joy and magic of the mammogram, let me enlighten you. They stick your boob between two metal plates and squish it until it's as flat as a pancake. Flatter than you EVER thought it could get. And then you hold that position for what seems like FOREVER while they take a photograph.

It's not comfortable. But it's very necessary. And it saves lives (get one, ladies).

When Lori mentioned her appointment to her 21-year-old coworker, the girl's eyes got wide and, in a very grave voice, she asked Do your boobs go back to their original shape after it's done???

Bless her heart.

I told Lori she needed to fuck with her and tell her that there are special bras you have to wear for the rest of your life after your first mammogram.

Alas, Lori is a nicer person than I am, and she wouldn't do it.

Sigh.

Woulda been funny.

More crap you don't need

Holiday catalogs do not disappoint, my friends.

Popsicle Maker.
Psst! You already have one of these.
Hint: it's attached to your refrigerator.

Cotton Candy Maker.
Just how jacked up on sugar do you want your kids to be this season?

Emeril-Inspired Kitchen Towels.
Save your money and put it toward a douchebag forehead tattoo instead.

Skewer Station.
Because "showcasing grilled meat and veggie skewers" on plates is sooooo 2010?

Snowball/Snow Block Maker Set.
If your kids are lazy/prissy enough to need this, they're in front of the TV
with no desire to play outside in the snow anyway.

And, last but not least...

These leopard-print PJs. Not because they're useless, mind you. But because they seem to pack a little more than flannel and an elastic waistband.

The adorable deviousness of the six-year-old mind

My dear friend Lana Greck has a sweet, spunky six-year-old named Addy.

Today I got this message from Lana:

I was fixing Addy’s hair this morning and she asked if she could use my comb so she could text me. She says “Mom, you got a text from a girl named, um, Addy Greck. Do you know her? She says she loves you and she is your best friend.” 

I said “Aw, that is nice.”

“Mom, you just got a text from Zickle! She says that she hopes an alligator eats you at work today! I guess you can’t be friends with HER anymore! Addy sure is a nicer friend, isn’t she?”

A little jealousy there, but I couldn’t stop laughing.

That's the cutest character assassination I've ever experienced.

PS: I'd be sad if an alligator ate Lana. VERY sad. :)

Crap you don't need

I get a lot of holiday catalogs these days.

What makes me chuckle is the number of items in these catalogs that are completely stupid and unnecessary. (And usually pretty expensive for what you get.)

The most recent one came from the Macy's catalog.

It's a $100 (on sale--SAVE $40!) soda maker--I'm sorry, I mean SODASTREAM GENESIS.

How many liters of soda would you have to make with this thing to make it financially viable? Considering the fact that you also have to buy the soda syrups (also on sale!) at Macy's, my verdict is that you'd have to make more soda than you'd ever want to to make this thing worth it.

Also, I imagine that the fun would die after you made about six liters of soda. And then it would just be a job.

And who has the counter space for shit like this? 

This is fun! I'll keep my eyes open for more Crap You Don't Need.

Stay tuned.

Dear Wallgreens Clinic Doctor/PA/RN

The joke about following me home to be sure I followed your health instructions was kind of funny once.

By the fourth time you repeated it, it was downright creepy.

Yeesh.

I'm already sick of

Those damn Lexus Christmas commercials.

An unsuspecting individual walks out the front door to discover a brand-new Lexus with a big red bow on it.

And everybody rejoices.

Give me a break.

The last thing that would make me happy on Christmas day is finding out that my significant other had just saddled us both with a $500-a-month lease without consulting me.

Bah-humbug.

The downside of eHarmony

Beau and I have a friend who's trying to meet ladies on eHarmony.

We asked how it was going and he said he was pissed off that the site was only setting him up with old ladies.

I found this perplexing and asked a few questions.

Turns out, he's a young buck in the prime of his life... but women his own age are old ladies.

Sigh.

Sad and sweet

I buy a lot of used books (better for the environment, better for my budget).

Most of the time, they're just normal, everyday books.

But every so often, there's a little gem. Something someone used as a bookmark, a note scribbled in the margin, or--my favorite--an inscription.

The book I'm reading now has an inscription that makes me smile and makes me sad and--above all--makes me wonder.

It's more of an apology than an inscription. Maybe Erik thought his dad would inevitably complain about the small print. Or maybe Erik is just very considerate and sincerely searched for a large-print version. Did Erik's dad request the book? What did Erik think his dad would like about it? Did he even like it (it did, after all, end up in a pile of used books). The signoff at the end is very sweet. What kind of relationship did they have? 

And I wonder and wonder and wonder.

(And I'll continue to wonder until I'm done with the book--that's how dorky I am.)

The Highlands Ranch High School drama department

Made a bold choice this fall.

Is it just me, or is this a little... deep for high school students?

Chicken-fried circle of hell

I love my grandpa.

He's a WWII hero and truly a great man.

Dad called me on Veterans Day Eve to ask if I wanted to go to dinner with them and Grandma and Grandpa the next evening.

Me: Sure, where are we going?

[Insert theme music from Jaws]

Dad: It's your Grandpa's choice.

Me: Ok, so where?

[Music swells]

Dad: You know where.

Sigh. I did know. Too bad I'd already said yes...

As much as Grandma loves McDonald's, Grandpa loves the Old Country Buffet.

I loathe the Boo-Fay. First of all, the world OLD is already in the name, which gives you a clue about the clientele.

The nickname I've given the place will give you another hint: The Shovel. Why? Because people shovel massive amounts of food on their plates. And then they shovel it down their gullets. And then they repeat the transaction. This is a place with a lot of elastic waistbands lumbering around.


It's a frickin' cattle call in there. Everybody grazing around, elbowing people out of the way in an effort to get to flavorless, sub-par food. Starch-a-palooza. And NOBODY MOVES. They also let their kids run around like maniacs (because they've, of course, gone for dessert first, so they're all hyped up on sugar).

Lemme run down a list of just a few of the things I encountered on my night at The Shovel.

• A woman in a rabbit-fur coat.
• A soft taco that was so not soft that it CRACKED when I went to fold it in half. Yum. After that, I was too scared to try the hard tacos and ditched the Mexican food idea entirely.
• A child, accompanied by his dad, no less, who had an entire plateful of French fries. No veggies. No protein. Just fries. Nutritious! (Meanwhile, after the Taco Incident, I decided to play it safe with a plate of vegetables. Grandma didn't think that was a good meal for me. How is a plate of vegetables a bad choice for a meal??? I give up.)
• Actual RAGE that there was no pie available at the exact moment when one fella wanted it. Employees were in the process of going to get more pie, but it was too damn late! 
• And, my favorite.... I. Saw. ASSCRACK at the boo-fay. 

Buh-bye appetite.

Like I said, I love my grandpa.

And now that you know what I'm willing to undergo on a Friday night for him, I think you know just how much I mean that.

Wedding crap

I've mentioned before that I like to buy bridal magazines because I love pretty dresses and cake.

I subscribed to my favorite one because those things are expensive and because it's nicer to have them delivered right to my home (just like I do with all of my porn subscriptions).

One drawback to this subscription is that I've made my way onto a few mailing lists for other bridey stuff. Stuff I don't want, need, or care about.

Like the wedding crap catalog I got in the mail last week. It's filled with the tackiest wedding items I've ever seen (mostly, I guess, because I'm only invited to nice weddings).

If only I'd taken a few photos to post...

Oh wait! I did!

Nothin' says I'm in it for the long haul like a Wedding Ring Shot Glass.
Only $5 per dozen!

Honestly, if you could convince your fiance to wear this (it's TOP RATED),
how could you respect him enough to marry him?

Same goes for these douchey wedding-party socks. If they don't know
who they are, how are these socks going to help?

A classy way for your guests to keep their canned beverages cold
at your wedding.

An even classier (and inflatable!) way to make those beverages cold.
(I spy screw-top wine!)

Screw-top wine, beer koozies, and inflatable beer tubs
are the perfect recipe for a weddin' rave!

If a rave ain't your thing, take the sophisticated route with these lovely
rose candles. Fire hazzard, schmire hazzard.

And don't forget to give your guests the gift that keeps on giving when they
leave: LOTTO TICKETS!

NOW THAT'S CLASS!!!

No-buy November

If you read this blog last November (and you're still here now, you're amazing for hanging in with me), you might remember that November is my no-buy month.

I don't buy anything for myself. I can buy food, experiences, gifts for others, and household necessities, but no books, no earrings, no music, etc.

It saves me a little money and it gives me perspective on want vs. need.

And if I trip up/cheat, I have to report it.

I'm halfway in, and I've done really well.

But I did mess up on the first of the month. I forgot that iPhone apps are personal purchases.

But I'm making up for it. I'm buying 10 ducks for impoverished families around the world through World Vision.

Most of us have it pretty good in this country. Food, shelter, clean drinking water, a warm place to sleep. Why not reach out to those in need?

I also highly recommend donating to your local food bank.

Nothing you spend money on for yourself feels as good as the money you spend to help someone else.

Because an empty mailbox is too ambiguous

On Saturday afternoon, I opened the mail box to find a slip inside.

Oh boy! A package! (Of course, I thought it was a little weird that my mail carrier didn't bring the package to the door; I'd been home all day.)

Then I got a better look at the slip.

Really?

Do my Cooking Light and Vogue subscriptions make me look like a simpleton to the point of not understanding whether or not I actually had mail on Saturday?

Weird.

(PS, Dad found the silver lining with this little gem: Maybe your mail carrier is stalking you and this is kind of a love note. Thanks, Dad.)

We're such a cute couple

Ridiculous childhood comeback recalled

Back in the *ahem* 80s, when someone stuck their tongue out at you, the appropriate response was:

I don't french long-distance!

Oh yeah. We were a classy lot.

No more tears

I hate chopping onions (actually, I'm not a huge fan of onions, period, but sometimes they're a necessary evil in the kitchen). Burning eyes, mascara running down my face--it's unpretty.

I've tried many different methods to avoid the onion meltdown.

Wraparound glasses.
Slap Chop (oh yes, I own one, mofos).
Holding a piece of bread in my mouth while I chop (soggy and gross).

On and on.

I heard that if you burn a match beforehand, it helps (and it does, but if you're slow and clumsy with a knife like I am, you need to burn multiple matches--and if you're clumsy, the combination of fire and knives isn't good anyway).

Then I heard about holding a matchstick (unlit--let's keep those eyebrows intact) between your teeth as you chop.

Holy shit! It worked! It's CHEAP!

Shout it from the rooftops!

(I only tried it once, but once is a victory in my book)

Coat #1

You can blame my friend Q for this one. She told me I should do semi-regular posts about my (embarrassingly large) coat collection. I tried this for my shoes, but I didn't really get anywhere with it.

Why not? Coats are half the reason to live in Colorado. The other half is because we're all so damn good lookin'! :)

Here's coat #1.
Faux-fur swing coat.
For those who don't know, Swing Coat is code for Makes Me Look Fatter Than I Am, But I Don't Care. It's buff color (see picture 2), has fluffy ruffles, and--best of all--it's the softest thing you've ever touched in your life. The most pettable item of clothing I own.

Mom bought it for me for Christmas and I was so excited that I put it on when Beau and I went for a pre-dinner walk (even though it was close to 70 degrees outside and I was already wearing a festive sweater and a Santa Claus scarf--Beau was soooo proud to be seen with me that day, let me tell you). 

It's awesome and I love it.

More coats to come (whether you like it or not).

Worst cover story ever

Years ago, my friend Jess sent me a voicemail she'd received from a coworker that day.

The first half was business as usual, then Jess's coworker hung up.

At least she thought she'd hung up.

While voicemail was still recording, she started griping about Jess to someone in her office, ending the tirade by calling Jess bitchwhore.

And THEN she realized she hadn't hung up.

Oops. Charming.

All was silent for about a half hour (presumably the time it took to cook up this brilliant cover story).

Jess sent me voicemail number two:

Hi, Jess, it's [insert bashful coworker name here]. Um, you may have heard something at the end of that last voicemail I left for you that you might take the wrong way. But you really shouldn't. Here in the office, my friends and I call each other bitchwhore all the time. It's a total term of endearment. I certainly didn't mean it in a mean way or anything. Ok, have a nice day. Bye!

Really? A term of endearment?

If that's the case, then I hope y'all have a great day, bitchwhores!!!

If you've festooned your vehicle with rubber testicles...

Chances are, you've put this shit all over it too.

The ever-classy bullet-hole decal.

This sends the message that not only do you want people to think you're an asshole, you want them to think that someone else thought you were enough of an asshole to shoot at you.

Only they didn't.

You just have fantasies about being an asshole. Or a drug dealer (same difference).

And that's just sad.

My new catchphrase

I overheard a weird little exchange last week on the day of the snowstorm (BLIZZAKS!).

Man: So, you enjoying the snow?

Woman: I'm ok with it.

Man: Are you enjoying the snow?

Woman: Yeah, but I'd rather be enjoying it, you know, from my bed.

I don't know if she was being intentionally sexual or not (though I have a theory), but that's immediately how it sounded to my ears.

And it's totally my new catchphrase!

This mac and cheese is good, but I'd rather be enjoying it, you know, from my bed.

This cooking class is nice, but I'd rather be enjoying it, you know, from my bed.

The Oxford English Dictionary is useful, but I'd rather be enjoying it, you know, from my bed.


I've officially cracked myself up.

A new fun word to say

The night before a snowstorm last week, I decided Hey, driving in the snow on bald tires might be a road hazzard. 

So, I waited four hours for new tires (everybody else came to the same decision on the same day, it seems).

But the best part is the name of the tires: BLIZZAK!

And if you buy more than one, you get to say BLIZZAKS!

BLIZZAKS! BLIZZAKS! BLIZZAKS!

(my life is full of small--tiny--pleasures)

Who has a nice boyfriend?

I DO! I DO!

Guess who went to the thrift store and picked up an Ernie cookie jar and creepy-ass antique cross-dressing photograph for me yesterday?

BEAU DID! BEAU DID!

Yay! Yay! Yay!

Scary movie

As I mentioned last week, Beau has become quite the cinematographer.

This is the scariest movie he's made yet.

The title is AT THE DOCTOR'S OFFICE.

Judge for yourself.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Fun new excuse to skip work (seasonal)

Don't know who it is; don't care. The excuse is awesome in its silly, ridiculous bullshittyness.

Someone called in the day of the office Halloween party to say they wouldn't be in because they're allergic to pumpkins.

Gotta write that one down and use it next year!

Scary pumpkin muffins

Really, they're only scary because they're so easy to make (and even easier to eat).

One box spice cake mix.
One 15-oz. can pumpkin puree.

Mix together (batter will be thick, but you don't need to add anything, I promise), put in paper muffin cups, pop into a preheated 350-degree oven, and bake for 20-25 minutes.

Ta-dah!

I've made 'em twice and gotten nothing but raves.

They're coming to get you, Barbara...

On Saturday evening Beau and I and my folks went on a graveyard tour. Riverside Cemetery dates back to 1876, and is home to some really beautiful memorials (if that's what you're into, which I totally am). 67,000 folks rest there (it's next to the train tracks, which must interrupt even eternal slumber, but I digress).

I got some great photos and Beau went all cinematographer on our asses.

No story behind this one. I just thought it was really beautiful.

Headstone of a French prostitute who was brutally murdered downtown.
They never caught her killer.
(The headstone is so lovely because she came from money in France.)

Don't know the story behind this one either. But someone really loved their dog.
And that kind of devotion is nice. And it's a lovely stone.

During the tour, Beau kept wandering off his own. I found out later that he was using a fancy app on his phone to make movies. He shot zombie movies from the point of view of the zombie. The soundtrack is all him (no wonder he wandered off by himself--he was breathin' pretty heavily).

I brake for old ladies

And that's mostly because I hope to be one someday, and a little extra karma in the bank never hurt anybody.

I also love old-lady names. I have some great ones in my family: Elsie (you might know her better as Ronald McDonald's #1 reason for a restraining order), Edith, Lela, and Melba.

I know there are other great old-lady names out there, so I asked folks on facebook. I got some GEMS!

I'm naming a future pet Mildred to be sure (see, I'm workin' on my old-lady ways already!).

• Myrtle
• Trudy
• Matilda
• Opal
• Geraldine
• Maxine
• Irene
• Norma
• Gertrude
• Lena Juanita (love Texas old-lady names)
• Tessie Elnora (Texas again)
• Merline
• Eunice
• Doris
• Peggy
• Mildred
• Irene
• Inez
• Corrine
• Bisnette (pronounced Bisnay, which ROCKS)
• Agnes
• Zulu (my Dad's aunt)
• Virginia
• Leota
• Thelma
• Velma
• Maxine
• Pauline
• Ima (who came way before Kanye's Ima Letchoo Finish)
• Velma
• Fidela
• Gertie
• Lizza-Lou (awesome)
• Juanita
• Berthie
• Leona
• Fern
• Shirley
• Vesta
• Mabel
• Flossy
• Hortense (bless her heart, you know that one was a burden even back in the day)
• Claudia
• Lorraine
• Charity
• Demarius
• Revella
• Lola (I already have a cat named Lola)
• Eula and Beula (who were sisters)
• Nettie Jean
• Lena
• Ethel
• Wilma
• Ruth
• Elise
• Agnes
• Bernice (pronounced Ber-niss)
• Elda

That's one amazing list. 

My friend Jen made a very good point, saying that in 100 years, someone will compile a list just like this. Only the names will include Jennifer, Nicole, Lindsay, Britney, and the like.

Swell point. And in those distant days, I'm sure Great-Grandma Tiffany will marvel at whippersnapper names like Ethel, Beula, and Gert.

You're probably tired of thrift-store junk posts

Too bad. I'm not. :)

I found two totally rad things and one sad thing.

First, I found this KICK-ASS Ernie cookie jar. I'm still kicking myself for not getting it.

Of course, there's probably a good chance it's still there. The eyes are a little spooky, but I like that. I also like how this photo makes him look like he's praying for someone in the shadows.

Then I found this totally awesome disguise.

You can't see it, but the Styrofoam head is NOT FOR SALE. So don't ask. Just don't.

And then I ran across a bin of old pictures. These always make me a little sad, because those pictures used to mean something to someone. And now they're novelties in a bin.

But anyway, I found this one, and only one caption fits it.

Mother was a... handsome woman.

Look closely. "Mom" looks a hell of a lot like Father Mulcahy from M*A*S*H. I also question the gloves. What's she hiding under there? Maybe this is a Mrs. Bates Psycho situation.

I kind of wish I'd bought this one too.

I need to go back to that store.