Every family has a couple of these. Right?

My mother's cousin Sue is a pill. She's one of those women with whom you have to walk on eggshells. She's always upset by something. She lives an offended life. And she's great at it.

The latest offense was the fact that my mom didn't attend a surprise party for a man she'd seen three times in 30 years.

Horrible offense, right?

Sue, who thought Mom should have gone, stewed for awhile.

And then Mom and Dad came home to the following message:

Hello, it's Sue. I'm calling between television shows so you'd pick up the phone. But oh well. I'm sitting here looking at the Christmas present you bought me. It's so lovely... it's obvious you bought it for yourself. I'll see that it gets back to you. Goodbye.

WHUCK? My mother was floored. She bought the gift for Sue. The message hurt her feelings. And Mom is one of the sweetest, kindest individuals you'd ever meet.

Sigh. I'm so sick of bitchy, cantankerous old ladies.

Tell me this shit doesn't just happen in my family.

UPDATE: Mom called and found The Gift on her doorstep. Sue needs to grow the fuck up. 

I'm about to sound ignorant

Willfully ignorant at that, but oh well.

I've never really known what goes into a mincemeat pie.

All I knew is that it sounded gross, so why bother? Who puts meat in a pie?

So today at Target, when I spotted a jar of mincemeat pie filling (on sale, but I digress) I opened my mind and decided to find out what the ingredients actually are--hell,  it might not even have meat in it.

It has meat in it. And fruit and sugar. And, in one stomach-churning recipe, pickle juice.

Who puts meat in pie???

This just proves to me that, even in ignorance, I. Am. Right! :)

Meat and pickle juice. Yuck.

This title made me laugh

At the bookstore last week. Especially considering where I grew up. It must have caught a few other eyes as well. Keep an eye on ABC for the pilot episode of Good Christian Bitches!

Lord help us all.

Plop, plop, fizz, fizz

Got a little head cold brewin'. Nothing serious. Just annoying.

I'm takin' a little Alka-Seltzer Plus to turn off the snot faucet so I can actually get a few things done. Who doesn't love a little fizzy medicine? (Though the "cherry burst" aspect is highly debatable.)

Then, I read. And read. I'm One of Those people who reads dosage directions (I also read my owner's manual while I'm waiting in line at the car wash--go ahead and mock. I'm used to it).

Then I got to this.

Do not use to sedate children.

Well shit. There go my plans for the night. WTF? I worry for the future.

I noticed that that same warning does NOT appear on the bottle of tequila I have in my kitchen.

Interesting.

And with that, I moved on, had some fizzy medicine and a shot of tequila, and it was nothin' but good times at my house.

Awwwww yeah!

(I'm aware that this post is weird and... maybe not so great. Fuck it. I blame the cold medicine. That shit could sedate a child.)

Devil in a green box

Go ahead and taunt me, you minty little vixens. I hear your chocolate-covered siren call all the way from the kitchen cupboard.

Sigh. It's Girl Scout Cookie Season (which sounds a lot like Duck Season... and, really, it might be better for my ever-widening ass if I actually had to go into the wilderness, chase these suckers down, and shoot them, but nooooooooo. They're readily available for little or no effort on my part at all).

I could just not buy any, but you can't look at those adorable little Girl Scouts and say no (this is another one of my clever excuses). I'd have a much easier time avoiding Thin Mints if, say... registered sex offenders sold them. I could totally say no to Registered Sex Offender Cookies. Wouldn't even answer the door for those a-holes.

My biggest problem with Thin Mints (other than buying a huge and ready supply every. damn. year.) is portion control.

Because they're the cookie equivalent of potato chips... or crack. 

Wanna know how many cookies are in a serving according to the side of the box? (Get ready for heartbreak.)

FOUR. Not a sleeve, like I previously believed.

Who can stop after FOUR measly Thin Mints? Impossible, I say!

So, knowing that I'm going waaaaaay over the serving amount, I start making little allowances like I can eat the whole sleeve if I'm having them instead of dinner. Who needs vegetables? All I need is a sleeve of Thin Mints and a glass of wine (you know, for my heart). 

Sigh.

But before you despair entirely, here's some good news!

Per "serving," there is one entire gram of protein!

And 4% of your daily allowance of Iron!

And zero Trans Fat!

Eat up! It turns out they're good for you!!!

Tis the season. Right?

This either says bad things about the book she's holding

Or good things about the comfort of the chair she's sacked out in.

This woman was in the land of nod for about an hour at my favorite independent bookstore, The Tattered Cover.

I don't know why this rates a post. I just think it's funny.

I could lie and say she was snoring, but she wasn't.

My three favorite signs

From the stock show.

This first one was next to an enormous, beautiful Texas Longhorn. Folks could pose next to him (or ON him, even) for pictures. I was tempted, but after I found out that it's nobody's fault but my own if the bull kills me, I backed off.

If you want to get back at the bull community, however, you could always snack on a platter of these.

Read closely. That's not tenderLOIN they're talkin' about.

Last but not least, we finally have Whiz-Proof technology on our side!

Confirmed

Cats are the best sick-day companions. Ever.

Stock show... *ahem* fashion

I went to the National Western Stock Show with my folks yesterday.

We saw lots of beautiful animals; I fed a yak!

The more interesting creatures, however, were our fellow stock show attendees.

The women fell into three categories. Women who have plainly given up, normal women, and the sparklers.

There are special stock show fashions available from any number of vendors. These items have three things in common: a bajillion rhinestones, huge gothic crosses, and insane price tags.

Mom and I could have played a version of slugbug with these crosses, but we'd have beaten the shit out of each other inside of ten minutes. No fun there.

I can't tell you how many times we saw the sparkly trinity: crosses on the ass, on the belt, and around the neck.

It was like watching a faith-based glitter contest.

BLING-A-DING-DING!! I LOVE JESUS MORE THAN YOU DO!

Alas, we left the merchandise area empty-handed.

And I think Jesus was ok with that. ;)

Please oh please oh please

Let this become a trend.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/01/18/ban-pajamas_n_1212542.html?utm_campaign=011812&utm_medium=email&utm_source=Alert-style&utm_content=FullStory

DOWN WITH PAJAMAS IN PUBLIC!!!