My favorite thing about summer so far

Beau and I were scavenging for dinner at King Soopers the other night, and I came to a dead stop when I saw this.

Even though it's June, it's a poem! About pumpkin pie! In July!

I stared longingly at the pie. It's been sooooo long.

Beau finally picked up the pie and said Here, I'll carry it for you so it doesn't look like you're buying a whole pie for yourself, even though that's what you're doing.

I have no shame over this. One of the nice things about being a grown-up is that you can do things like buying a whole pie just for yourself.

Guess what I had for breakfast. Yay! Yay! Yay!

Two new words

My dear friend has a doozy of an ex-husband. He's pulled every trick in the book in an effort to make her miserable.

In short, he sucks.

Words don't even really describe how rotten he is.

So I came up with two new words!

1. Douchelusional
2. Dicktastrophe

Use them freely and introduce them into lexicon.

Because, sadly, I think they'll probably apply to a lot of people you deal with on a daily basis.

A few things about the veterinarian's office

My poor little Daisy has... a tummy problem (to be polite).

The bar covering her eyes looks like I'm trying to protect her identity.
You'll never know who she is now!!!

So I packed her into a kitty crate (her favorite thing, you can tell) and drove her to the vet I've taken her to since kittenhood.

Two shots, one bottle of pills, and $112 later, we headed home.

But here are four things that could stand to be addressed:

1. Even if your dog is the sweetest, gentlest, greatest dog who was raised by cats and looooves cats, letting her bound up to my cat who's terrified and in a cage with a raging case of the poos isn't the best idea.
2. If you have a dog who hates cats, telling me It's a good thing I'm holding this leash; otherwise, your cat would be in a world of hurt isn't the nicest thing to say.
3. If you're a veterinarian and you think you're a stand-up comedian, think again. Also, know your audience. This guy once called my cat Lola, who had trouble healing after surgery and had to go back multiple times, his little cash cow. Ha. Ha. Ha. Today, he told a waiting room full of women how great it is to be able to trade in an old wife for a new model. Again, hysterical.
4. When I'm paying the bill, don't tell me what a good deal I'm getting. Don't tell me that other vets charge much more for their services. You've already got me. I'm going to pay. I want my furry kid to be healthy. Don't insult my intelligence.

Alas, having suffered the indignity of getting her temperature taken in the rudest possible way, Daisy's at home hiding under the bed. And she's probably forgiven me by now.

Until, of course, I go home and try to cram a pill down her throat.

Sigh.

Hooker training wheels

If you want to be a hooker but you want to start slow, maybe you should try this place.

Located in the same mall where the bookstore spur dude hangs out, this store is geared toward teenagers.

This is the embarassing shit they put in the front window (I'd hate to see what ends up on the sale rack).

Wearing a classy fishnet shirt like this, I'm sure a fish ain't the only thing you'll catch!

Worried about spinach in your teeth? Check out your reflection on my ass!

You can transition from the prom to the street corner with ease in this racy little number!

In case you weren't convinced by the "strapless T-shirt" or lacy underthings, I'm a WILD GIRL!

It's a yummy dish, but...

Dad makes this great salmon recipe.

He's made it for years, and I'm always super happy when he calls me and invites me over to eat it.

But he's GOT to find a better name for it.

Because nobody wants to hear this:

C'mon over! We're havin' SALMON BALLS!

The joys of being designated driver

Beau had some friends in from St. Louis last week. The three of them hit lots of touristy destinations including Buffalo Bill's grave, Estes Park, Rocky Mountain National Park (5 ft. of snow at the top!), and panning for gold in the foothills.

But the main reason they came was the Peter Gabriel concert at Red Rocks. If you've never seen a show there, you must. It's the best concert venue on earth.

It's fun to be there for someone's first Red Rocks show (especially when it's a performer's first show).

So I volunteered (was volunteered) to be the designated driver.

We got there early and parked at the top of the amphitheater. The good part about parking at the top is that you can avoid the heart-/lung-exploding experience of climbing the two billion stairs from the lower parking lots.

The bad part about parking there is that it takes forever to get out after the concert. There's no point in even turning the key in the ignition. So, after the show, I didn't. It was a pleasant, cool night, so we rolled down the windows and sat.

About 45 minutes later, I heard a drunken whine from the back seat:


This caaaaaar hasn't moooooooved one inch!!!


Sigh. Honey, that's what happens when the car's not running and half of the occupants are outside, leaning against the car! ;)

Oh well. On the plus side, my internal mantra of pleasedon'tpukeinmycar, pleasedon'tpukeinmycar, pleasedon'tpukeinmycar totally worked!!

At first, I was excited

about how slim my legs look in this shot.

And then I realized that the giant vat of ice cream in my lap probably canceled them out.

:D

It's not like I ate the whole thing.

(PS: The whole reason I took this is to show Beau my yummy nighttime snack. We've been together a loooooong time. We text pictures of food and pets. Sad, but this is what we do.)

I heart the dollar store

Not only is it a good place to pick up toothbrushes, gift bags, and ziplock baggies, it also offers an array of chuckleworthy products.

ALL FOR JUST A BUCK!

[Note: I didn't actually buy any of the products below; just wanted to clear that up.]

Next to the pregnancy tests (and, word to the wise: I think perhaps that might not be the purchase on which to skimp), we have toothpaste-tube sized Warm Touch lube. (The intimacy is in the touch. And 20 nickels can buy a lot of intimacy.)

For the times when Warm Touch is not necessary, we have these sad little bras. They were so sad that they were actually marked down. TWO FOR TEN DIMES!

Heading to the candy aisle, I found two disturbing offerings. The first has "nip" and "mini drinks" and "Bite 'em" on the packaging. They're shaped like little beer bottles. Creepy.

The second looks like diarrhea in a tube.
Chewbies Liquid Taffy. ALL NATURAL! 

Lest you start to think that the dollar store is not a classy place, let me assure you that it is! Because only in classy places do you see a poodle in a handbag.

Sorry the pic is fuzzy; I had to snap it on the sly.

More to come (as soon as I run out of toothbrushes or ziplocks).

If you look for donger everywhere...

I guess you're gonna find donger everywhere.

For someone who finds the phallus sooooo offensive, he sure spends a lot of time thinking about it. Hmmmmmm.

Gotta love zealots for the sheer entertainment value. 

A FIRST!

I just realized this.

I had dinner this week with my parents and grandparents to celebrate Grandma's and Grandpa's 65th wedding anniversary.

And Grandma didn't mention McDonalds ONCE!

I am absolutely this dorky

My odometer hit 111,111.

OF COURSE I took a photo!

Duh.

Showdown at the discount-book corral

Over the weekend, I was browsing through a new discount book store (buying used/discount books is the only way I can afford to keep up my habit and still feed and shelter myself).

As I was digging through the bins, I heard a strange *Ting! Ting! Ting!*

Why am I suddenly picturing Clint Eastwood in a poncho? I wondered.

Then it hit me: Oh, Lawdy! Someone is wearing spurs in a suburban book store!

Of course, I had to seek him out.

The dude was wearing a camo trucker hat, a tight black T-shirt, wranglers, boots, and spurs.

Really, dude? Ya ride your horse to the mall? 

I contemplated snapping a photo, but he didn't look too friendly. I didn't think it was worth dying for.

But it was sad, sad, sad.

When I'm old...

I hope I'm half as funny as one of my beloved elderly relatives who made the following statement (in all seriousness):

When I die, I'll be buried on top of my ex husband so he can kiss my ass for all eternity.

(Those are her actual burial plans.)

Thanks, LiveWell Colorado

In an age of constant internal struggle about wrinkles, cellulite, etc., in our youth-obsessed society, it's hard to be self-accepting.

But I've worked at it. I'm pretty happy with what I see in the mirror. And what I didn't like in the mirror, I've come to love.

I will always have The Thighs. Even if I lost half of my body mass, whatever was left would be right there. And I've gotten to a point where I'm fine with that (though I did absolutely delight many years ago in a cellulite sighting on Gwyneth Paltrow in The Talented Mr. Ripley--if she's got it, we've all got it).

And then I turn on the TV and see this.



Sigh, back to the drawing board.

I understand it's about health. And I went online and took the test; I'm healthy.

But there's got to be a better way than this.

I'll be watching you

Beau and I have an out-of-town acquaintance whom we don't see very often. But whenever we do hang out with him, he does something... interesting.

He has some sort of GPS software installed on his wife's phone. And he sits and watches her every move on his own phone.

The phone is always out. And he's always keeping track.

Though we're usually the types to ask about it, something holds us both back.

Is it just me, or is that creepy?

If beau had something similar installed on my phone, I'd hit the ceiling. And then I'd hit the door.

Whatever happened to trust?

Am I overreacting?

Creepasaurus rex!

Darwinism in action

Overheard:

My landlord placed the carbon-monoxide detector near the vent and it kept going off.
So I moved it.

Two poses we could retire

Men's magazines, women's magazines. It doesn't matter. These poses are ubiquitous.

And annoying.

The I'm-gonna-hike-up-this-tiny-dress pose.
It's already a tiny dress. And if I bought/am reading the magazine, it's not that kind of magazine. I don't wanna see what you do/don't have under there. Didn't anybody teach you to keep your dress down?

The thumbs-in-the-panties/bikini bottoms-threatening-to-yank-them-down pose.
Quite the threat. Pull up your pants and call your mom. She's got a speech all ready for you.

Sigh. Again, annoying.

Idiot savant showcase

As I drove home from Target a few weeks ago, I realized that I could--within 20 cents--remember the price of every single item I'd purchased on a large grocery trip.

Sad. Sad. Sad.

Attention fellas

If you're having girlfriend trouble and you're sitting with a table of friends wondering what to do, listen to the girl at the table (if there's one there).

It's not that men don't know. It's just that men aren't women.

Listen to the girl at the table.

Sage advice. :)

Saturday afternoon at the biker bar

The weather on Saturday was about as perfect as it gets. Sunny, breezy, not too hot.

Perfect drinkin'-outside weather.

We went to Golden and had a seat on the patio at The Buffalo Rose, where I had my first margarita of the season.

Luckily, I was the only woman there who was concerned about sun damage (if you're a biker, you're out in the sun all day anyway), so the only shady table was free. We had a nice view of Table Mountain and the people-watching was excellent!

First, a few sartorial remarks:

• Just because you can wear it doesn't necessarily mean you should.
• If you're wearing a tie-dye T-shirt, don't tuck it in. 
• If your boobs rest comfortably on your belly, it might be time to invest in a good foundation garment.

The best show of the afternoon happened right in front of us. There was a couple sitting nearby. She was wearing a dress that is best described as one big tube top--without underthings. Her middle-aged yuppie boyfriend had to be on e, because he could NOT keep his hands off of her. This is pretty much what went down all afternoon.

This was the least offensive moment. He was rubbing her belly, leaning her back to jam his tongue down her throat, and--classiest move of them all--dropping his chapstick so that he could crouch under the table and look up her dress.

I nearly lost my appetite for the onion rings we'd ordered.

But I soldiered through. We couldn't finish the last one, so we had a contest to see who could take the best photo of it (we were sitting outside at a bar with margaritas; onion-ring photoshoots are high art!).

I'll let you decide who won.

To cap off the day, we saw this pink IROC on the way home. HOTT!

Dad's southernisms

Dad was born and raised in Paris, Texas, and--despite having lived outside of Texas longer than he's lived in Texas at this point--he still has the Best Accent In The World. The southernisms are the best. Little gems that have become a part of life in our family.

Here are three of my favorites.

Sometimes, you just gotta talk plain to people. This one is self-explanatory. And it's always true.

You look like a dyin' calf in a hail storm. I usually got this when I was being particularly pathetic and whiny when I was growing up.

And, by far the worst one, which he's never used to describe anyone knows personally...

If she had as many stickin' out of her as she's had stuck in her, she'd look like a porcupine.

The best thing about my bitchin' Burt Reynolds album

It's not the album name, Ask Me What I Am, or the bitchin' song titles (The First One I Lay With, Till I Get It Right, She's Taken A Gentle Lover, A Room for a Boy Never Used [HUH?], etc.).

It's this AWESOME fold-out poster of Burt, complete with powder-blue polyesther leisure suit and white boots. 

 Work it, baby! WORK IT!

Latest addition to my bitchin' vinyl collection

 

Awwww yeah! Beau knows how to find the classics!

Boy George will fit in nicely with Burt Reynolds, John Travolta, Eddie Murphy,

and Shawn Cassidy.

Extreme couponing

I'll admit it; I find this show really interesting. These nutty women (and a few men) spend 30+ hours a week clipping coupons and planning shopping trips. Then they clear the shelves and pile up a $1,279.72 total at the register only to walk out having spent only $36.09.

Riveting stuff.

It's especially interesting to see how proud they are of their stockpiles, which are usually worth $15,000+ (come the zombie apocalypse, these homes are where you want to be; deodorant, body wash, Gatorade, and Froot Loops for all!).

And that's all well and good.

Until I go to the store and see this.

Bare shelves in nearly every aisle.
REALLY?
You needed ALL of the kitty litter?
ALL of the bread?
ALL of the cereal bars?

Good Lord, people. Leave one package or two for the single girl who has no room/need for a stockpile.

Sigh. Grrrrr.