Going on haitus

For awhile.

I'll be funnier/bitchier when I return, promise.

The DUI "system"

Recently, I accompanied one of my friends out to meet with a bunch of her old high school buddies.

They were all really nice folks.

But one guy... (there's always one).

He bragged about a lot of odd things.

One of which was the fact that he'd been in a lot of bar fights.

He went into lots of detail about each one until I finally stopped him and said This really isn't something to brag about.

So he stopped.

But what he didn't stop was drinking. He pounded beer after beer after beer. When I asked him Don't you have to drive home? He launched into the "system" speech.

He calculates time spent drinking with his (considerable) body mass and the number of drinks.

Works every time, he said. I've been pulled over and arrested twice, and both times they've had to let me go because I blew under the limit.

So, when he got pulled over TWICE for erratic driving under the influence and got off on a loophole, he declared a victory.

His idea of a victory and mine are vastly different.

When I mentioned that, he asked me what my system was.

I don't drink enough to have to calculate all of that when I know I'm going to drive.

That got a pathetic head shake. 

Fancy, I know.

He lives on the north side of town, folks. Buckle up.

It's time to draw the line

At Hello Kitty CONTACT LENSES.

Move your pink-clad ass ovah, Barbie: American Ripoff

The day before my birthday, two dear old friends (sisters to each other and honorary sisters to me) flew in to spend the weekend with me.

It was truly just what this old girl needed.

They both have young daughters.

I do not.

So I got introduced to a number of new things during their visit. 

One of those things was the morally, spiritually, and financially bankrupting phenomenon of the American Girl doll store.

(Full disclosure, my friends' daughters don't own AGDs--they have knock-offs, love them, and don't know the difference.)

I know that there were expensive trends when I was a kid, but nothing even touches this.

The dolls themselves start at $110.

And then there are the clothes, which start at $28 per outfit.

And the accessories.

And the pets ($24 for a stuffed dog that's 3" tall).

And the HAIR SALON (no idea how much that shit costs).

And on and on and on.

As we wandered through, I was completely agape at the prices AND the people buying into this bullshit. Parents left the store with huge bags filled with hundreds of dollars worth of "accessories."

I wandered through and chuckled and snapped these photos (and more, but I'm practicing self-restraint in my 40s--heh heh).

WHERE YOUR SALARY GOES TO DIE.

THE AFOREMENTIONED SALON (CHECK OUT THE DOLL ON THE RIGHT;
SHE'S GETTING THE COOLIO TREATMENT)

AMERICAN GIRLYATOR

THE. DOLL. IS. FUCKING. WEARING. HEADGEAR.
(HEALTHY SMILES SET: $14)

CREEPY, FOUND-DEAD-IN-THE-TUB BUBBLE TUB
$58

DEEEEELICIOUS PLASTIC DINNER SET
$58

THAT'S RIGHT. I SAID $58

THIS WAS MY FAVORITE. THE ALLERGY-FREE LUNCH.
I SHIT YOU NOT.

IT COMES WITH AN EPI-PEN

THIS IS IN THE TODDLER DOLL SECTION.
APPARENTLY, TODDLERS IN THIS STORE NEED TO
EARN THEIR KEEP BY SELLING LEMONADE
TO STRANGERS ON THE STREET

AND OPERATING HOT OVENS TO CREATE BAKED GOODS

I weep for the future of this country.

The best, funniest, most honest thing I've heard all week

From my amazing, funny friend Steve:

If I dated women, I think I'd probably date really trashy, slutty-looking women.

It's a smartphone

But, thankfully, I don't have to do anything smart with it.

And I don't (a fact that's well documented on this blog).

But even I chuckled at this latest update info for the Dumb Ways to Die app.

MOOSE AND PUKE MINI-GAMES ARE SLIGHTLY EASIER NOW.

Heartbreakingly cute

I found this lying on a shelf at TJ Maxx.

Some little girl is very specific about what she wants.

The best part about this list is that it's LAMINATED. It's that important to her. (And it's that much more sad that someone left it behind.)

 

I especially like the part where she decides she no longer wants "down to nee shorts."

Four new words

Last Friday (Friday the 13th, no less) I turned forty.

I'm mostly cool with it (better than the alternative, right?). 

Yesterday, I had my annual physical. 

Where I repeatedly heard these words: 

Now that you're forty...

Nothing that follows that phrase is fun. 

Now that you're forty...

You might want to start taking baby aspirin each day. 

You need a mammogram every year. 

You might want to think about weight training to maintain what you have. 

You really need to keep an eye on your lipids. 

Sigh. 

When I mentioned this to Mom, she assured me it could be worse: 

"Wait until you start hearing Now that you're sixty-five..."

Ugh. 

Cross-marketing hits a weird, new low

You can never be sure about an artist's muse

But I'm pretty sure this one is a huge fan of AquaFresh. 

Matchy-matchy ain't punk

A friend and I went to the Sweet Action ice cream parlor for ice cream (duh) and people-watching. 

We saw a woman with the words Honey Hole on her T-shirt (which, I think, is just a bad idea--even at Sweet Action). 

And then we saw a woman with spectacular pink braids woven into her black hair. 

Only she also wore a pink T-shirt that matched them exactly. 

Not good. 

Not at all. 

If you put a rainbow color in your hair, delete that color from your wardrobe for the duration. 

And THAT, my friends, is my sartorial judgement of the day. 

What I learned this morning

The flamingo's feathers get their color from the pigments in their food. 

I'm pretty happy that's not how it works for humans. 

Somehow, I don't think I'd be as cute if I were the color of cheddar cheese. 

Commitment issues

I must have them (to some extent), because the only thing I thought when I saw this is That's a long-ass time to keep track of one little pen. 

And, really, the only reason you'd buy a pen like this is to see if it actually lasted seven years. It'd be a weird personal challenge.

Too much pressure if you ask me.

If this is fame

Let me forever live in anonymity (unless, of course, Hollywood tries to option this fabulous blog. Which could totally happen).

AVAILABLE IN DRUGSTORES!

"BLACK FLUID INVISIBLE ON SKIN."

UNFORTUNATELY, THAT BLACK FLUID APPARENTLY TURNS INTO CREEPY
LITTLE PEOPLE WHO THEN ATTEMPT TO CLIMB UP YOUR
BOOBIES AND BURROW INTO YOUR ARMPITS.

Someone is following you...

Pinterest is an interesting phenomenon. You basically put all of your likes out there and then... strangers judge your taste (I call myself out on this one as well--after all, I have a Creepy Shit board).

My boards are pretty mundane. Food, Clothes, Decor, Cake, Color, Sweets That Aren't Cake (because, duh, Cake deserves its own board), etc.

And the folks who follow my boards seem to be a lot like I am (which is pretty logical).

But every so often, someone starts following my boards and I have to wonder why.

Check out the email I received yesterday.

What could I possibly have in common with this person?

Boggles the mind, it does.

This memorial poster might seem a bit more sincere...

Had they read it once or twice before they printed it.

Then again, as my friend Liz reminded me, he was born during wartime. Everybody had to conserve everything they could for the effort. Perhaps there just weren't enough vowels to go around.