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.

Mom's cookbook + my immaturity = fun!

Last Sunday, Mom and Dad had me over for spaghetti (I don't know what it is, but spaghetti always tastes better when your mom makes it).

While she cooked, she handed me a new cookbook my uncle had sent her. She told me to mark the recipes I thought sounded good, which I did (because I'm a good daughter).

As I flipped through the book, the nine-year-old humorist in my head took over, and I snickered at some of the more questionable recipe titles.

Yep, I make Mom prouder every day.

Better than Naughty Nuts, I suppose.

Hey, if you've got 'em, why not make 'em festive?

I'm sure you've heard about this on TMZ.com already.

One thing DOES lead to another next to a roaring fire.

Ew. Just ew. :)

The most horrifying thrift-store find to date

I'm posting this picture first to see if you could figure out what it is.

Any guesses?

No?

Hold on to your lunch.

It's a SUPER KEGEL!

And in case you're unsure about how to use one, they show you right on the box (so to speak)!

True story

I went to the doctor for a skin allergy (nuthin' but glamour in my world), and she told me this story.

She said that sometimes syphilis can present itself as a skin rash (I don't have syphilis; this is just how she got into the story).

She said an elderly female patient came in complaining of a skin rash she simply could not get rid of. They did some blood work, and a few days later the lab tech called and said Do you want to call her with the news, or should I? She has syphilis. 

My doctor said she'd break the news.

She called her, told her she had syphilis, and said they'd get her on a course of treatment ASAP.

The woman's response?

I cannot WAIT to tell my bridge club that I have syphilis! They're gonna think I'm sooooo RACY!

Bless her heart!

Let's go to prison!

In high school, my class took a trip to a women's prison in Oklahoma City.

I have a hard time remembering why, but I think it was for a sociology class.

We all boarded the school bus and prepared for a special day.

All of us went on the tour and then assembled in the prison gym for a Q & A session with three of the inmates.

They sat there and patiently answered all of our questions.

And then we heard a craggy male voice speak up and ask:

There a lot of rape between you gals in here?

40 heads swiveled around to find the source of such a gawd-awful question.

The bus driver, who--I'm pretty sure--was supposed to have stayed on the bus and waited for us, tagged along on the tour.

And he'd apparently watched Caged Heat far too many times.

Gross. 

Going to the DMV

To get my license.

What should I wear, what should I wear, what should I wear?

I know! I'll wear my SHUT UP AND DRINK YOUR BEER! T-shirt!

Genius!

Only at a chain restaurant with "Texas" in the name

Can you order the vegetable plate, request a baked sweet potato, and get the following question:

Do you want that with all the fixings: caramel sauce and marshmallows?

Whuck?

It's a potato, not a frickin' ice cream sundae.

I told our waiter no thanks and, instead, received my potato with butter and a little brown sugar (which I still found ridiculous--but I'll fully admit that it was delicious). 

The problem with long necklaces

Eventually, the necklace will hook around one boob, making it look like you're... lassoing yourself. And it'll stay that way all day until you fix it.

Who has the energy for that kind of vigilance?

Let's play! (I will destroy your soul)

At the antique mall, Beau and I found more than Mrs. Roper's castoffs.

We found the stuff of nightmares.

WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT???

I USE BABY TARZAN'S EYES TO SEE INTO YOUR FLAWED SOUL!

I AM SUCKING YOUR WILL TO LIVE!

I DON'T HAVE IRISES OR REAL HAIR. I WILL EAT YOURS!!!

I'm not so scary, BUT THAT THING BEHIND YOU IS!

BEFORE I GOT HERE, MY OLD OWNER KEPT STRINGING ME ALONG.

I CAN'T I FEEL MY ARMS AND LEGS!

COME TAKE A NAP WITH ME... FOREVER!

MY LAST OWNER PUT MY HEAD IN A VICE. SHE'S DEAD NOW.

HAVE YOU SEEN MY HAIR? OR MY UPPER JAW?

I HAVE EATEN YOUR SOUL, MORTAL. MU-HU-AH-HA-HA!!

Mrs. Roper must be freezing

Someone stole all of her clothes!

Beau and I went to the antique mall over the weekend and ran across these stunners!

I'll bet she felt like a petite butterfly in this one!

I can admit it; I heart this one.

I can't believe Mr. Roper never felt compelled to hit it when she wore this marabou number!

The dumbest question ever uttered at a 3 Margaritas

Do you guys have margaritas in here? 

Beau as my witness, this man asked the question with no trace of humor or irony.

He honestly just wasn't quite sure if a place called 3 MARGARITAS would serve margaritas or not.

More Target fun

I don't know if you've figured it out by now, but there's a Target right across the street from my office.

I spend a lot of my time and money there.

And every time I go over there, something makes me chuckle.

This time, it's packaging.

I ran across this box of SUPER tampons and had to look twice. Because, upon first glance, I thought Holy shit! That's the biggest tampon I've ever seen!

On second glance I realized Oh, that's the PURSE into which the much smaller (I hope) tampon goes.

Next, I noticed this on the yummy Turkey Provolone sammich I bought.

The sammich itself was super yummy. It's the word USE on the packaging that gives me pause.

But I used it. I used it all up!

Funny memory

One of my friends is about to move into a new apartment. I suggested the moving company I'd used twice in the past. They did a fine job for a decent price. And nothing got busted or stolen.

She stopped by today and told me that her grandmother is up in arms over hiring a moving company because they'll know she lives alone, they'll know what kind of stuff she owns, and they'll show up the day after she moves in and rape her and kill her and steal all of her stuff.

Because that's what grandmas do. They live to stir the shit.

Suddenly, I flashed back to the first time I used the moving company. My mom showed up to help me supervise and clean once the apartment was clear of furniture.

Oh, and to bring donuts, because my mom is the best. mom. ever.

When the movers were on a run down to the truck with a load of my belongings, mom motioned me over to the counter and, with a sideways glance, told me We're covered.

I looked at her and told her I had no idea what that meant.

Then she whipped a pistol out of her purse and waved it around with a satisfied smile.

WTF are you doing? Put that away before someone sees it! I told her.

She did, but she was definitely ready for any... funny business.

And that was the day I learned I had a pistol-packin' mama.

I love this T-shirt

As any rational person, place, or thing would!

The last time I wore it out in public, I was with Mom, buying plants at a nursery. The problem with message T-shirts is that they invite retort from strangers, which is what exactly what happened as we perused geraniums and petunias. A woman bounded up to me and, with a smirk, said:

Well hi! I'm an adjective!

[crickets]

As we walked away from her--just barely out of earshot--I muttered to mom:

She's half right. Stupid is an adjective. 


That's when Mom and I decided that I probably shouldn't wear this T-shirt in public anymore.

I love the shirt; I don't want to be buried in it.

My dad wants you to know

That I don't smoke.

I got a voicemail from him the other day telling me he was looking around on Facebook (Side note: yes, we're fb friends--I've been obnoxious my whole life; nothing I post on fb is going to shock him... or so I thought) and he spotted something he did not like:

I saw that you posted one of those Zickle Me Pink things on Facebook. And there was a picture next to the post of a woman with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. What's that for? You don't smoke. Why do you want people to think you smoke???

So, in an effort to hold on to my good name, let me tell you that the profile picture on the right is a cartoon. It is not me. I do not smoke.

Though I am a brunette. :)

Yay! It's October!

Today I want you to go to the store, walk to the Halloween candy aisle, and take a good long whiff.

Sniiiiiiifffff.... AHHHHHHHHHH!

Best smell of the season, baby!!!

(The best sound is leaves crunching under your feet.)

Boo!