Waffle Iron Apocalypse

I hope everyone had a wonderful, happy, belly full of Thanksgiving; mine went well.  My side of the family visited and we ate, drank and reminisced - like every year, pretty much.  

This year, as everyone knows, the day after Thanksgiving sales started at midnight instead of the usual 4-5 a.m.  Television ads tried to get everyone into a frenzy of DOORBUSTING pandemonium.  From what I can tell from recent news coverage...it worked, famously.  




Seriously, people.  Really? 

I think it was Jerry Seinfeld who said once that if the aliens were watching us and they saw us walking our dogs and picking up their poop that the aliens would assume we were the pet in that relationship. 

In a similar note, after watching that video, I am convinced the aliens are comparing that video and a video of cows being corralled and cannot find any difference between the two.  Aliens are geniuses, by the way.

Two strangers waiting for the doors to open for Black Friday:






Two strangers on Black Friday, five minutes later...



By the way, it is no coincidence that this Spazztastic lady has an alien shaped head and wearing the color of Satan.   



I haven't been shopping on Black Friday in eleven years.  I swore that was the last time ever.  What possessed me that it was a good idea to venture out with the crowds two weeks after giving birth to my second son is beyond me.  A son who was a breasfed baby, by the way.  Me, in line for two hours.  Those two hours pass and I am in an uncomfortable HELL.  Then a baby cries in the store.  If anyone is reading this and has breastfed they will know exactly why that sound is not a great idea.  Immediately I abandoned my cart by the customer service counter and power walked to the car.  I sped home on the verge of tears because of the pain.  Never again.  Plus I hate pushy people, long ass lines and insane crowds.  Yeah, like I said, I don't know what possessed me to do it.

Question:  How was your Thanksgiving?

Flu Shots and My Kids





THEIR FANTASY






MY REALITY


The Price is Right Retro Hate


These are some things I love about my husband:

1.  He lets me drag him to trendy shopping places he would never in a million years ever go to on his own.  Like IKEA, like Trader Joe's, like World Market.  He does it because he knows I love going.  He does it even though he will miss his football games.




2.  He allows me to *check in* to those trendy places on Facebook and tag him while I'm at it.  When he asks me if I am going to *check in* I say "yes, I have to prove to people that we get out of the house to do interesting things sometimes".  He laughs even though I'm fairly certain he realizes I'm a mess.  He loves his mess.

3.  He fills up my car gas tank for me when I run low - without me asking.  

4.  He starts my car for me during cold days so it will be warm when I get in - without me asking.  

5.  He makes coffee for me before I get out of bed - without me asking.  Although, he isn't entirely motive free in this case.  This is what he has to deal with before I have had my coffee:




6.  He makes sure to buy my favorite snacks at the store when I'm not there with him.  He does this even though I sometimes fuss at him for buying things that I shouldn't be eating and that will make me gain weight. 

7.  He doesn't humor me when I play the "how much do you think I paid for this, game?"

For example:
I walk in my house holding an unopened box containing a brand new toaster oven.  One of these:



To him I say - "Look what I got at the store today."

He responds - "I see."

I say - "guess how much I spent on it?".

Here is the history of this little game between he and I.  

I gain great pleasure from showing off when I obtain merchandise for an insane low price.  He, in turn, has adapted to my need to show off and won't allow me to bathe in superiority.  He has gotten wise to me.

Back to my question:  "guess how much I spent on this?"

He says -"$12.00?"  

I then respond - "I hate it when you guess down!  You know very well that I didn't pay $12.00 for this kitchen appliance".

"Of course I know that", he says.

Me - "Damn it, why won't you humor me?!  It's like you are on The Price is Right and you are that person who constantly bids $1.00 so you don't go over."


Him - "Ha Ha Ha Ha, you nailed it!"

After a couple of dramatic sighs, I finally told him that the toaster oven was marked down from $45.00 to $19.99.

Him - "Wow, honey you did good!  Hell of a deal!"

"Hmph.", I say.

So.....why do I love this about him?  I don't know, I just do.  At the time it annoys me but we always end up laughing from it.  Plus, I love that I can predict that he will do this and he never once lets me down.


Many marriages fail because the couple do not know how to annoy each other properly.  There is a right way and wrong way.  Don't annoy your partner out of indifference or to get back at them or to get out of doing something they want you to do.  Only do it when it brings joy to the other person.  "Bringing joy to the other person" are the key words in that sentence.  Learning how to annoy your other half in order to bring them joy takes time, patience and practice.  Go forth and annoy!



(By the way - My The Price is Right phobia is still in effect proven by the fact I hyperventilated while drawing the picture above.  Those damn retro 70's flowers kill me.  To make a long story short, I hate The Price is Right.  My grandmother used to watch it every day when I was growing up.  The damn loud music, the over excitable contestants, the putrid 70's set, the Bob Barker gross kissing, all of it.  Every bit of it created this phobia in me.  To this day I can't watch it when it comes on.  I fall over myself running to the remote to quickly turn it to another channel.  I was convinced at one point that a contestant would be beheaded by that spinning wheel.  The yodeler man falling off the end of the game...hated it.  Plinko.....okay I kind of liked Plinko.  I also liked the punching paper holes game.  That was all I liked though.)


IN OTHER NEWS!
It's that time again for me to honor people who comment on my posts.  Today, I honor Sian from Siany Blog.  She's awesome, takes pretty pictures, posts about her life.  And she's from the UK.  I love the UK.  I want to kiss the UK.  I want fly to the UK and upon landing at the airport immediately run out, find a heather field and roll around for hours.  Yes.

Please go to her blog and read about her engagement story. Thanks!

Keep commenting please, I love comments!  More than The Price is Right but not as much as the UK.

Fork You Too, Beech Tree!

I started this here blog as a way to vent and entertain my friends and myself (or no one but me).  For that reason alone it should not matter to me when I lose a blog follower.  I told myself that I would post and not think too much or edit to pacify others.  I'd let things fly and see where they land and what kind of response I'd get (or not get).  As a whole it has been slow going, yet positive.  My blog has slowly grown in readership in a respectable amount of time.  I like it that way and that is all that should matter.  

But, I can't help but wonder why I may have lost a follower and investigate as to why this probably happened.  I am all about learning how this blogging world works, you see.

Here are some possible reasons I have come up with:

1. The person was sick of my constant blogging? By constant that means they don't like when someone posts once a week or more. 

"That's too many posts to read, I can't handle this person, she is way too into herself.  I have no time for her shenanigans.  I shall remove her from my feed immediately and go hang out at Pinterest to re-pin every fudging internet picture ever posted.  Including, but not limited to, repinned pictures of George Clooney that can also be found with a simple and quick Google Image search -George Clooney Hot-".
Granted, The Clooney is hot.  But the whole point of Pinterest is to share interesting pictures and pictures that inspire you.  I suppose you can be inspired by George.  Most are R-rated inspirations though.

2. I use profanity in my posts?

"Reading those dirty words are going to lodge into my brain and make me do evil things. No, I can't let that happen! I am one of those people who think when people use profanity they are not intelligent enough to not use those words.  Why can't she replace those words with cutesy words instead?  Like Shoot, Fudge & H-E-Double Hockey Sticks?  That will make her sound much smarter". 

Yes, I use profanity. I've got the smarts real good and could choose not to use profanity in my posts. However, sometimes when telling a story there is no other word that expresses when I'm feeling frustrated better than a good old "FUCK!".

3.  Perhaps my content isn't educational or interesting enough?

"This person is not holding MY interest.  None of her posts teach ME anything.  Her blog does not have any interesting pictures that I can Pinterest the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks out of".
For that I am sorry.  I'm sorry I can't show you step-by-step craft techniques which will make your frenemies resent you that much more.  You know, because they will be jealous of your outside of the box thinking when baking a carrot cake.  By the way I want to say again that it doesn't bother me at all that you stopped following me.  Seriously, no sour grapes here.  None, nada, zilch. 

"Thank you Pioneer Woman.  I'm going to pin that recipe and show that *beech tree*, Shelly, that her carrot cake pins are boring and that mine are awesome."

*Goody goody person's curse word for bitch:  "beech tree". Or so I would assume*

4.  The person deleted their Google account?

"Dear Google, 
I would like to delete my entire Google account and all attached accounts that lie therein.  You see, I am simplifying my life and getting rid of everything that doesn't make me at one with nature.  I plan to use the next year as a way to build my end of the world underground lair.  I will be one of the few who actually survive the Mayan End of the World prophecy.  Please don't try to contact me to request I stay on the Google grid.  I am moving to a location where no one would think to look for me.  No one needs to know where I am because I have no intention of sharing any of my canned goods, oxygen tanks or zombie repellant.  THEY ARE MINE!  
Sincerely, unabomberlvr122112@gmail.com"
This is what I like to see on Pinterest.
There should me more zombie pins and more repinnings of the same zombie pins.  
More! More! More!

For some reason, losing a follower actually makes me feel sort of proud?  Like I might actually be writing something that is interesting, even if that something interesting is not interesting enough for a particular demographic. 

With all that being said...all of this post just could be one big egotistical clusterfudge on my part because the person truly could have just fallen off the face of the internet earth. It actually might not have anything to do with me.  For shame!

OR the reason could just be this:

5.  I blog about bodily functions.

Halloween Poo Costume Post

Do you think?  In my defense, it didn't seem too bad a thing to write about?  I mean, sure, poo is gross and imagining dressing yourself in poo might be tasteless and disgusting to some people; but come on, everyone poops!  Stop acting like your winky hole never does the push downs.  

If it is any consolation I didn't actually intend on dressing up as human excrement.  It was a joke.  In reality, I dressed up as this:

Zombie Librarian
"I shall use my zombie spray repellant if this beech tree even 
thinks about breaking into my apocalypse cellar to 
eat my brain and canned goods."


I wish I could tell all the grossed out people out there that they were only having a nightmare that day I posted that poo post and that, in reality, it wasn't "feces" I was talking about, but "faces".  Yes, that's right.  I did a whole post about Rod Stewart's first band.



Interesting fact.  If you put the word "feces" in the search box on Pinterest you will find that there are zero pins and zero boards honoring it. 


 

(P.S. Offending Pinterest lovers isn't my intention in writing this post.  If it helps I will tell you that I have a Pinterest account and I love the damn place.  I'm just not nuts with it.  I look more than I pin or repin.  I have a total of seven pin boards & eight pins on my account -  none of which have multiple repins of Pattinson or chocolate cake balls.  But I love Pinterest, I truly doo doo.  If you remove me off your feed because you are sensitive over your love of Pinterest then I'm sorry we can't be bloggy friends anymore.)


http://pinterest.com/wheresthehobos/

You know what my Pinterest boards say about me?
They tell people that I have absolutely nothing to contribute
to the Pinterestsphere other than that
I suffer from the wanderlust....real bad.

For good measure I might as well offend people even more and possibly lose a few more followers by posting this tasteful drawing.   



You're welcome, or I'm sorry (whichever the case may be).




Question (for blog writers):  Do you ever notice if you lose a blog follower and, if so, do you give a flying fork?
 

Porterhouse Wagoner and the Banshee Baby


I am sitting here thinking about all that Kardashian divorce/give back the damn gifts - drama and the Lohan prison -will she or won't she serve more than a day?- crapola.  I don't like being this way, but the media is force feeding me these "newsworthy" nuggets and like a new girl on a porn set, I obediently listen and pay attention.

My mind wanders (of course).

I wonder what it is like to be famous? How it must feel to walk around and have people stare at you all the time. I'm sure the perks are great when you want to get into someplace exclusive and just because of who you are you are given high priority acceptance.

It's hard to wrap my head around the concept of fame. I try to imagine it for myself but just can't do it. Possibly the reason is because I don't feel comfortable being watched. I avoid social situations and can only imagine how I would feel with random strangers just walking up to me for no other reason than to just be in my presence.

I've never actually met anyone super famous. I've seen famous people from afar when I've gone to concerts and such, but that is about it. The only famous person that I've ever had an official run-in with was when I was an infant. And the stories all come from my family as I was way too young to remember any of it.

His name was Porter Wagoner and many may not even know who he was. Hell, I doubt I would know if it weren't for my mother. He was pretty famous country singer back in the day and had his own country variety show. He actually helped Dolly Parton break into the business. Her song "I'll Always Love You' was written for him.

The story goes like this - my mom had taken me and other family members out to a local steakhouse for dinner. Apparently, Porter Wagoner was in town for a concert and decided he had a hankering for a big juicy steak. He came to the restaurant ready to enjoy a good meal only to encounter an annoying infant who wouldn't stop screaming at the top of her lungs. That was me. My mom said I humiliated her in front of Porter and she could not get me to stop wailing. Why she didn't just leave I don't know but the fact that my mom was a huge country music fan could be my first indicator. Unfortunately for Porter, he couldn't enjoy his meal. Eventually the poor guy had to get up and leave to get some peace. To this day I imagine him sitting all lonely in his hotel room still wearing his rhinestone suit and pompadour hairstyle trying to eat his medium rare steak and cursing at that stupid fucking baby with her over developed lungs.

He's dead now so I'll never have the opportunity to apologize for my childish behavior and offer to buy him a new dinner.



There are plenty of Porter Wagoner videos on youtube but none do him justice as the one below.  This proves he has a sense of humor.  Just not when it comes to crying babies and steak dinners.

Borat interviews Porter Wagoner:



QUESTION:  Have you ever met anyone famous?

Fun With Photoshop - Trash TV



Last month my good friend and I bought tickets to the "So You Think You Can Dance" tour.  We had dinner before the show, I got drunk, pictures were taken.  We had a blast.  Yesterday she texted me a couple pictures of that night.  The last one she sent was captioned with "You look really good in this picture".  I was excited because it is rare that I look good in candid pictures.  I receive it and laughed out loud.  Bless my heart.  My reply to her can best be explained with a visual of the picture after I photoshopped it.  

 
Big hair, halter top, tight pants, drunk eyes.


Question of the day:  Do you love to watch trashy TV?



This post is dedicated to my goof friend, my partner in crime, my Twin. ♥
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