Cinnamon Toast and Tacos, Por Favor

I never what they were saying before but now I know. You know, those directions they give you in the beginning of the ride to keep you from flying out of the little boat into about 3 feet of water. Keep your arms and legs inside the boat at all times. Yada yada. They say them in Spanish and you would think I would understand what they are saying being as my parents speak Spanish and my grandparents did not speak English. Well, only a little anyways. It is amazing what two generations accomplish. Physicians, engineers, teachers.

My SIL, JuJuBeez, told me one day that all she ever heard listening to the Spanish instructions was, "Cinnamon toast and tacos, por favor." From my muy pequito Espanol, I think they are babbling about remain seated, please. But they could be saying take a hike for all I know.  

I only got my tree up a few days before Christmas, wrapped presents a few hours before they got ripped open, and once again did not send out a single card out. But I enjoyed every minute with family. My nephew, 7 years old, sang us some songs. I especially loved "I'm Getting Nuttin for Christmas."  Watched The Muppet Christmas Carol. Went to the Bonnie Hunt show where I jacked a pencil. Yes. I stole from Bonnie. I hope she comes hunting for me because she is so damn funny. They wanted us to fill out a slip giving our New Year's Resolutions. They even filmed one of my friends because she said she wanted to drink more wine, eat more chocolate. I kept the pencil. 

 Did you all have a Merry Christmas? I was going to spend New Year's Eve with my baby brother and his friends but I get to babysit my grandson. Yes!! He is part of my diabolical plan to lose weight by chasing him around. No, fat, lumpy grandma here. 

I went to the San Fernando Valley for Christmas to be with my folks. We saw the movie "Blind Side" on Christmas Day. Wow. What a movie. I loved it. Take a hankie with you when you go. Gotta love those gun-totin' Southern women. They thump their bibles and thick heads.  The line for Sherlock Holmes was horrendous and no way could my mom sit through almost three hours of Avatar. 



I usually don't do New Year's Resolutions because it will just another thing I don't accomplish yet again. This year though I think I'm going to have a few. Dual Mom, bless her black heart, and Think Tank Momma are challenging everyone to lose weight, so I will jumping on that wagon. Well, actually I will be hooking the bandwagon with a cane to catch it and then will leisurely climb on board, but I figure falling off will still be painful. 

I hope everyone's Christmas was joyous and I can't wait to hear about everyone's New Year's Eve debacles. 


I hope my grandson is not too much of a party animal.

Avast You Bloody Landlubbers~!

Call me Ismael.

I am still walking like a drunken sailor on land for the first time in months, my pony tail tipped in tar, and my parrot squawking in protest. 


We set sail on a three and a half hour tour (are we all singing the theme from Gilligan's Island now?) aboard the Hornblower. It was a rainy day and the seas were rough. Our mission: Find the Great Gray Whale. Hunt her down to the far reaches of Mission Bay...and snap a ton of pictures. 

Our captain was Captain Bill, a jovial man who only needed whiskers to look like St. Nick, who called himself a bus driver (but looked nothing like Ralph Cramden) and told us we were the whalers and to keep a sharp eye out for flukes and puffs of water and shout out "Thar She Blows!" when we spotted our whale. 

We stayed on the top deck in the rain. Hardy sailor types don't notice the inclement weather. And the snack bar sold me a bloody good Bloody Mary so I was all warm and toasty. Finally, my black beanie was soaked, my tennis shoes were getting water logged and my muffin was getting wet, we decided to duck downstairs for a little shelter. The steps were wet and Mr. Gadget Man shouts out to me to be careful. Well, yeah, of course I will and turn around to say something sarcastic.



Aacckkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh my god. Eighteen inches from nose was a nasty loud seagull squawking "Mine, Mine, Mine." I almost threw my muffin at it. Do you have any idea how big those stupid birds are? And then Captain Bill informs us if we feed the birds we would be in BIG trouble with the Feds and get arrested and all. Feed the birds. Hah! What if they pester and steal from us? 

The rain stops and we return to our stations in the crow's nest or the forecastle or whatever. We motor past sea lions lounging on barges and buoys. Great swaths of kelp float by. A Coast Guard boat goes by towing someone they rescued. 


But not a single whale...not even a dolphin. 

We did sail past the carrier Ronald Reagan currently in the San Diego port for fixin' up. Did you know it is 1000 feet long? And that the tallest building in downtown San Diego right across from the carrier is only 500 feet? So, if you stand the Ronald Reagan up on its hiney, it would be twice as tall as the tallest building? It would be like a warped scene from Titanic. 


Since sailors on leave like to party, we went off to Coronado Island and visited the Hotel Del Coronado. Such a beautiful building. A giant Christmas tree in the lobby. We ate downstairs, watched the ice skaters skate on a rink they made for the holidays, bought some yummy desserts. (Was there any doubt?) It is slightly drizzling, the beach is about 20 feet away and the ocean is probably about 100 feet or so away, but there it is...people wearing ice skates zipping past palm trees and the ocean. 

 

All in all, a good way to help celebrate my baby brother's soon to be 40th birthday. Yes, the baby of the family turns 40 on the 17th. Being the know-it-all big sister, I will have to razz him a little. Being the obnoxious little brother, he will have to remind me that I will ALWAYS be 12 years older. 


Too bad I forgot to make him walk the plank.

Team....Whatever

So, are you Team Jacob or Team Edward?

I love my friends who say how can you be team Edward...he is hard and cold. How much fun can it be to hug a rock? I don't know which is funnier. The fact that I will argue with them or the fact that they say it like it's, you know, real. Or women only like it because they are missing something in their life. Well, duh. Romance writers would have been out of business years ago otherwise.


I am not a fan of the first movie. Twilight sucked. The parody was so much better than the movie. You don't believe me. Just watch.





See, that Bella could actually act. 

I enjoyed all four Twilight books. As I have said before they don't beat Harry Potter but I liked them anyways. (J.K. Rowling can actually write.) But it was fun reading about a vampire who is all sparkly, doesn't kill people, falls in love, and the horny teenager who falls in love with him.  


I liked the transformation into wolves. I disliked when Jacob cuts his hair. I really disliked the scene with Bella getting stitched up...where the hell was the director telling her not to look up like that. All I could see was her eyes disappear into her head and see a whole lot of the whites of her eyes. It was like a sunny side up egg gone horribly wrong. 


Dakota Fanning rocked. The bad vampires in Italy were fun. 

And Jasper still looks like a character from a puppet show.

Tree Twirler

I used to feel that way about my ex at Christmas. 

Every year at Christmas, we would all go out as a family to pick the tree. I loved doing this. The wonderful tree smell, happy people, twinkly lights. Probably why I will never have an artificial tree. It would seem to me like finally giving in to being a Scrooge. As if Christmas was just about getting it done instead of the memories. Besides, where else will the dog lift his leg while he is in the house to pee? Or take a drink? 


We would go and Ex would gladly unravel the netting, pull out the tree, and then twirl it around so we could all decide if it was the perfect tree. Well, gladly for a few trees anyway. The girls and I would finally pick one and then drag it off to pay for it. 


One year as we are standing in line to pay, Ex was grumbling in a somewhat playful manner about the whole bother. I looked at him and said, "You only have one job at Christmas...to be a Tree Twirler. What is so hard about that?" 


A couple of people back, a gentleman pipes up, "Hey, how did you manage that?"


He did manage a sheepish smile.


Last year I had Teddy Bear's boyfriend to help me with the tree twirling but this year he is not around and I have no tree twirler. Teddy's newest is in Afghanistan so I can't actually blame him for not taking a quick trip back to help. I'm not sure I have any frequent flyer miles to cover 7,500 miles. Heck, I don't have any frequent flyer miles. 


So Christmas is how many days away? Ahem. The dogs tore something up in the garage and I have white fluff all over the garage...it looks like Department 56 Dicken's Village, so that must be the sign from above that I need to start decorating. 


Fifteen days. Better check my list. I hope everyone was naughty so I don't have to buy too much.

Burn, Baby, Burn!

I have super hero powers.

Yes, yes, I do.

I discovered them the other day and I am so excited. I was going to go put on my spandex and tights but somehow the look was not what I thought it would be. In my mind, it is Lara Croft. In reality, it is Miss Piggy....without the wicked sense of humor. I cannot wait to start the new big loser diet with Dual Mom. 

Back to my superhero powers. It has been cold enough here in Temecula, California to use my fireplace. My little bitty fireplace. I bought some way expensive firewood and a little box of firestarter. If you think I'm going to chop some kindling, you are crazy. I would be fingerless or toeless within a few chops. My hand eye coordination sucks. Big time. 

I have tried golfing a few times and hitting a little white ball with a club was torture. (I always thought it was so appropriate that Tiger Woods had the name Woods, you know, like the clubs. I guess he needs a new name now. Tiger Oops, maybe.) I swing the club and miss the ball entirely or I hit the ground and cause nerve tingling pain into my wrist and elbows or just clip the top of the damn ball and watch it dribble about 20 feet. We have a family reunion every year that is centered around golf. I will only play if they let me play Lucy and Ethel golf. 



I lit the fire starter, put a couple of logs on...and nothing. Now, I have a pile of paper to be shredded that if I stacked it all up would probably be 12 feet high. No problem. Instead of shredding it, I will burn it. Just to get the fire started you know. I fold up a bunch of sheets, stick in the fire, and whoa, big flames and the wood looks like it is burning. Walk back to the couch. Oops. Wood went out. More paper. More burning. Walk away. Fire goes out. I'm making log briquettes. It is looking a nice charcoal black color. 


How is it that paper and wood can be set on fire and then go out? Over and over. I went through quite a few folders of paper when finally the wood started. I only had to sit right in front of it feeding the fire because of its voracious appetite. It got so hot I almost melted my stretch pants. But as soon as I stand up and walk away, the fire goes out.


I tell you, it was like magic. 


I am thinking red tights with some flames on my leotard and pointy Madonna like cones with more flames. Maybe a cool mask. I can even dye my hair bright red. Shoot. I might look like the Flash. 





I am taking suggestions for my superhero name. Somehow "The Great Fire Putter-Outer" just sounds lame. 

 

Ho! Ho! Ho!

I feel like I got gobbled up by a turkey. I don't have a turkey wattle though. 

Thanksgiving was fun. Family, friends, food, chocolate martinis. (Thanks, L~!) Vodka, Godiva chocolate liqueur, and Bailey's Irish Cream. My sister and I "practiced" making them on Wednesday night. Come to think of it, that may explain why turkey day was tiring. D'oh. We got tipsy and did not get to bed until after midnight. Thank goodness my mom was there. 

So much going on getting ready for the holidays...and the IRS just sent me a CERTIFIED letter saying it was a letter of deficiency and I owe over $3000. All because a client filled out their 1099 form out wrong....they said they paid me $10,000 more than I said they did and, of course, the IRS wants their share of that. You know, things don't work mostly because of bureaucracy and all the damn hoops you have to jump through to get things done and I'm not talking about the IRS. They have actually been fabulous. No, it is my damn client from almost three years ago driving me to drink and an ulcer. 

Things work out for the best and I hope this is one of those times. Hey, don't laugh at my rose colored glasses!


Have you ever seen that show "Hoarders"? Wow. I have been recording it but have had no time to watch it until last Sunday. Holy crud. It is mesmerizing. I have a question though. Most of the people profiled were not in a high socioeconomic bracket but I had read once that hoarders tend to be pretty educated. I wonder if they would just never allow a camera into their home to film. One episode was fascinating because the lady was a hoarder and had a daughter who lived in the home who was a hoarder but the daughter was a schizophrenic...and she made more sense than the mom. Even the drunk husband was more rational than the hoarder. Like I said, I was mesmerized. 

Teddy Bear flew to Philadelphia for Thanksgiving (boo hoo) and got to see how the East coast does turkey day. They also ran up the Rocky stairs in Philly. My knees hurt just thinking about it. 

.

Well, as you can tell, I am wandering all over the place. Oh, oh, I saw "A Christmas Carol" with Jim Carey. Yikes. Bah humbug. Yucky, yucky. I still have not seen New Moon though. I am going to go blog hopping to see what you all thought of it. 

Gotta go make my list and check it twice. Santa doesn't mind typos does he?

Happy Birthday, Teddy Bear~!

My Teddy Bear turned 20~! 

I wish I had all my early photos on my computer so you could see what I remember so well. She has always been a tiny little thing. Not in a great hurry to talk...her big sister the Hot Tamale was the vocal virtuoso. Teddy was my wild woman. 

Her hair was always wild and unbrushed....red hair that flew in all directions with a constantly smudged face. She could climb so well that I regularly learned to look UP to find her. At soccer practices, if I lost track of her for a minute, she would toddle off to the nearest fence to climb it. I would look over and there would be Teddy, 18-months-old, scaling the fence...a six-foot chain link fence. I have no idea how many times I would catch her at the top just in time before she launched herself over the fence. I am sure that mommy adrenalin aged me significantly. 

She was in such a hurry to be born...four hours from first contraction to delivery. Scared the heck out of me it went so fast. I remember the day she was born we did not have a name yet. Nada. Nothing. Zilch. We NEVER agreed on a boy's name and a girl's name we kept going back and forth on. I had my first contraction and was wondering if I should say something or wait until I knew for sure when my ex came running into the room to tell me he finally figured out a name~! So my daughter is named after the goalie for the Los Angeles Kings. Yep. A hockey player. I think maybe we jinxed ourselves into a tomboy. 

She is the kid that if you told her no, it meant hurry up and do it faster before I stopped her. She is the animal lover. She rode horses for years. The first horse she rode was Kramer, about 16 to 17 hands. Huge, huge horse and she was so small and so happy to be there that I'm not sure it dawned on her to be afraid. Even when he took off galloping and she held on the whole way. Thank heavens for carrots. 

She is such a precious part of my life. Quick witted. Funny. And beneath all the bluster and cynicism of youth, she is warm and generous. She loves to sit with the "adults" and gab with us. She tells me so much of what is going on in her life and I will be forever grateful for that. 

She thinks she is old but I know it is just the beginning. I am looking forward to watching the journey.

Happy Birthday, Teddy Bear~!  

Crabs, Chocolate, and Buttholes

I had a squealin' good time last night. 

Book Club with the Book Babes at Pala Indian Casino.  At the buffet. At the buffet with crab, shrimp, salads, Mexican food, pizza, sandwich bar, steak, Asian food, soups.....

and, of course, dessert.

Cheese cake dipped in chocolate and then rolled in chocolate flakes with a lollipop stick.  Espresso cups with a chocolate covered coffee bean in a chocolate cup with edible gold leaf. Little pecan pies.  Little espresso cups with tira misu in it. They had TWO chocolate fountains with dark chocolate and white chocolate, which on my first go round at the desserts, I totally missed seeing. And they were about three and a half feet tall. Sheesh. Cookies. Cakes. Banana splits. Ice cream. Peach cobbler. Bread pudding (whatever that is). 

Oh, they also had flan. You know, that snot on a plate stuff. Yuck. Almost as bad as oysters (which they had, too). Feels like a booger going down. Not that I know what that is like. 

Oh, yes, we had dinner, too. Debbie and her hubby go for the crab when they can, so she knows the buffet well.  Chocolate Lover and Debbie brought back big plates covered with crab legs and a nut cracker type thing to help eat it. Man, and BFF thinks eating chicken wings is a lot of work~! HA! They were working for their food. Chocolate Lover said it helped burn calories so she could eat more chocolate. 

On my first plate, I got a salad. A plain salad. BFF gave me an F. I failed buffet? Do I get extra credit for devouring my weight in desserts? 

When we weren't talking about food, they were talking about dogs. Thia Karen told me if I wanted to meet men, I need to bring Indy to the dog park. She said there is a man there with kind of long hair in a pony tail. I am such a product of my time that I still like men with long hair. She said he has a nice dog who is named Indy after Indiana Jones. I looked at her in amazement. Are you kidding? You mean like my daughter's poop master, Indy? He is also named after Indiana Jones. She totally forgot about that. 

A match made in heaven perhaps? Wouldn't it be ironic if I meet a man though my dogs? 

We signed up for the Pala card so we could get $5 off the buffet and with the card you could play a machine for free. We each got one play. You picked five little piggies and they climbed this ladder and jumped into a pile of mud. I hope it was mud. When they jump, they made the weirdest noise. If they landed and did not "find" money they stayed with their piggy butts sticking up out of the mud with their little piggy tails looking all curly Q like. Sometimes they would come up from the mud with fists of cash. 

All I got was five buttholes sticking up in the air. 

I like book club. The next meeting is the Christmas cookie exchange at Debbie's house. More desserts!! 

Oh, yeah, we each get to pick our own book to read and do a book report on. 

Homework?!!  I may do it at the dog park...and say the dog ate it.

Take That~!

Do you talk while you are watching movies in the theater? Do ya? Do you crackle and rattle your candy wrappers at the quietest moment in a movie? Can't sit still through an entire movie and not have to get up over and over? 

Well, then don't sit next to Teddy Bear. Or around her. Okay, just stay the hell out of the theater when she is there. 

I bought the DVD "Up" yesterday and I wanted her to watch it because she missed it when it first came out. But all I could hear was clickety clackety as she updated Facebook and My Space, got up and down to get something, left lights on all over the house. She drove me nuts because I thought the movie rocked. 

Anyway, I got to thinking about the time we had gone to the movies together. I don't even remember the movie but the theater was not that busy. We sat in my favorite row, the first row with the barrier in front of it. It is not so close that you get a crick in her your neck but close enough. And I can stretch my short little legs out on the bar in front of me. Ah, I love it. 

We sit down and watch all the previews and what not. Some guy sitting in front of us, across the walkway, kept texting on his cell phone. The little blue light kept lighting up which was annoying the hell out of me because I LOVE previews. Finally, the house lights go out and the movie starts. He keeps texting and texting and texting. Now, remember there are not too many people in the theater. I am trying to watch the beginning of the movie when all of a sudden something flies across the theater and hits the texting man! Whoa. Who threw that? 

Ummmm...Teddy Bear. He looks around as if to complain but then sees Teddy looking right at him as if daring him to say something. He put his phone away. There is no way on god's green earth I could ever do that. I ask her what she threw at him.  Skittles, she says. 

Dang. I knew candy was good but I never thought it could be used as a silencer.  

I guess the next time I want her to watch a movie with me, I am going to have to drag her to the show with me. 

But the next time we watch a movie at home...I'm packing Skittles.  

Have You Seen a Head Rolling Around Anywhere?

Have you? It has long brown hair, freshly washed, no gray. No?

Somebody must have it because obviously the lump on my shoulders is not mine. A pod head? 

I missed my 100th post, totally blew by it. I just missed my 200th post. Did not notice until I hit post 208. 


I missed my Blogaversary. Yes, October 25, 2008 was the first time I posted and I totally let that anniversary go by without so much as a howdy doo. 


I never realized how true it is that when you have too much on your mind, your brain cells cease their hand holding function and start firing willy nilly. 


Teddy Bear has had some medical issues which are distressing. I have had billing issues with clients. My property management company has their head up their butt so far it is now threatening to replace their heart. What am I saying?!! They never had a heart to begin with. 


And my work computer may be dying. I make a living working at home....on my computer. Now it sounds like a VW bus chugging its way up the Grapevine...in the snow. Even with my headphones on, I can hear the little fan scraping along or whatever it is that is broken.


I ran to my favorite big box store and bought a computer on Friday. Something made me not open it and now it is Sunday morning and I realize what stopped me. The stupid new computer comes with Vista with a free upgrade to Windows 7....which means delays in getting it up and running, but more importantly, I have ancient software that probably will not run on either system! My most favorite software that I use to run my business is oldddddddd, Pleistocene era, created in 2001. 


I am now sitting here doing this post on my laptop wondering if living in a cardboard box is all that bad. I have a long extension cord. Can I plug into one your outlets? Please.


*sigh* Fine. Think of me today as I battle the bits and bytes. I know Jack Daniels won't help but do you think it will hurt?

Have You Ever Googled Your Blog Name?

Have you ever Googled your blog name? Or maybe Binged it? Checked it out on Wolfram Alpha? Did a look see on Yahoo? 

Apparently I was not terribly original. I was thinking about it because I was thinking of starting a new blog where I can wax philosophical on economics, finance, politics, blah, blah, blah. I would need to start a new blog because some of my bloggy friends say it is kind of boring when I get all Sam Donaldson on something or try to imitate Brit Hume. 

The first link on Google for Happy Hour Somewhere was to World of Warcraft....Teddy Bear would be so happy and Ruthless will think that is pretty cool. Or call me lame. Never sure with him. 

Bing.com had a link to Happy Hour Studios. Very cool stuff. 

Wolfram Alpha only said it wasn't sure how to compute an answer from my input. Sheesh. Does not compute. Does not compute. How hard is it to compute Happy Hour Somewhere? Swizzle me that, Batman. 

But Yahoo is now my new best friend. I was the first hit on Yahoo~! Even before the World of Warcraft link. I am so jazzed. 

Okay, I realize I am easily amused and entertained. 

I don't think too many people care who Peter Schiff is or why I think Goldman Sachs is the antichrist or why California is still headed for the crapper. I have learned so much from my blog friends and have had my views changed on many subjects. You CAN teach an old dog new tricks. (And I better not hear any beyotch jokes, dang it.) 

I bet I can make you start snoring now...Ben Bernanke, Timothy Geithner, Federal Reserve, recast vs. reset...zzzzzzz. 


Did you fall asleep? I guess my Book Babe buddy was right.


I will be using my little gray cells to come up with a name for my new blog though because my geeky self is getting excited about the videos I can post with the new blog. 


Maybe I better check with Wolfram Alpha first. 


On second thought, maybe not. My new input will definitely not compute.

Don't Piss Off a Table Full of Doggie Lovers

Do you really want to know what that is a picture of? Really?

I don't mind telling but then I have a habit of making my friends jam their hands over their ears and start singing "la la la, I'm not listening."

Yes, this adorable ball of fluff is on my enemies list. Gosh, I sound presidential saying that. Because right now if I were to catch him, I would be in the Super Bowl throwing a perfect spiral for a touch down, but instead of a pigskin, it would be fluffer butt. 


Of course, this picture also reflects badly on my housekeeping, so I truly am irritated about that, too. 


My doorbell rang the other day, and being the paranoid tin foil hat wearing person that I am, I have to know who is ringing my bell. I sneak into the living room to take a peek and almost step in it. And on it. 


Little piles of poo. 


Streaks of doggie dung. 


Yes, that is a picture of lots of poo. Doggie poo. Indy poo. 


As you can tell, I barely ever go in my living room. It is a pretty room with beautiful couches and an awesome book shelf but I park my butt on the family room couches. 


I was hopping mad. I sent off a snitty text message to Indy's trailer trash mommy (Teddy Bear) and tell her that when I get home that night there had damn well better be no shit on the floor. 


Lucky for her, Friday I went out and, well, today is Sunday and my head finally feels like it will not roll off. When I woke up Saturday morning, the only thing I could do was wonder if riding the porcelain bus might make me feel better. Never again. I'm old enough to know when to stop. Sheesh.


I had to sleep most of Saturday because every Halloween for years BFF and I go to Claim Jumpers for drinks at their happy hour. This is about our fourth year going there instead of passing out candy for rug rats and I did not want to be totally hung over and crabby.



My head is still not all there and lord help me there was no way I was drinking, but I go and we have a great time. Somehow we got on the subject of dogs. I am sitting with a table of dog LOVERS. 

Not dog likers. 

Not dog toleraters.


Dog lovers. 


And, unfortunately, both my dogs have jumped up and down on my last nerve this week. BARK BARK BARK bark bark bark bark bark. My fat weiner dog is going deaf so lord knows why he is barking and I have to admit I get a hoot out of sneaking up on him to yell at him to shut up for gawd's sake, but he does not hear me because, well, he's deaf, but then I poke his fat weiner dog body and he jumps a mile. Oh man, it is so funny. 

He used to be able to jump so high he could snatch food out of your hand when you were standing up. Now, when he jumps, just part of his paws come up off the ground. He looks like a fat ballerina trying to get up on some new toe shoes but he never actually leaves the ground. Bark, tippy toe, bark, tippy toe. 


So, no, I was not everyone's favorite person last night. They have this idea that dogs are....are...people. So, I guess I'm in the dog house with all my doggie lover friends. 


I hope they give me a pretty flea collar. And, at least, I know better than to use the carpet as toilet paper.

My Armpits are Very Sad

Can someone tell me why, oh why, razor blades cost an arm and a leg? 

Come on. It is not such a high tech piece of wizardry that a package from my favorite big box store should cost almost $30! Over $2 a blade. I can buy precision tools that will last a lifetime with that kind of money. I can buy little thumb drives that hold gigabytes of data for that money. I can buy some lovely aged whiskey for that money. 


But something to scrape the stubbly hair from my armpits is that expensive? I know they can be stubborn those follicle fellows. I know I want a smooth shave. No one wants little nubbies left, but still....


I say we all get mad as hell and not shave anymore. No? I guess long armpit hair would be pretty gross. Rapunzel would have a whole different meaning if it had been armpit hair.

The Kiosk of Acne and Dueling Pianos

Back in downtown San Diego last night. 

Did you know that The Shout House has $1 beers during Happy Hour....all kinds of beer? I like beer but if I drink beer out in a place like this I get to know the bathroom better than the bar. Having a wee bladder is such a handicap. It's so bad, I get to know all the artwork in the bathrooms, the shapes of the tiles, the sinks with no soap.


We parked in the Horton Plaza parking lot and had to go into the mall itself to get our ticket validated. It has been such a long time since I have been at a mall and Horton Plaza is amazing. It is a 3 or 4-story outdoor mall with levels running all over the place like an Escher painting. 


We wandered around looking for the validation machine peeking into the windows at the cute clothes. I wish I was a size 6 again. Sigh. Oh. And had money to spend on clothes. 


JuJuBeez and I were having so much fun following my Baby Brother like puppies while he looked for the machine and then for an ATM. Do you know what I found? I had to take a picture because it just seemed so odd. 

What? A giant snack machine for acne medicine? I am so perplexed. Is this the wave of the future? I kept waiting for Jane and Judy Jetson to come flying in.


We walked to the Shout House and because we were early it was only a $5 cover charge. There a giant line of people across the street waiting for the Haunted Hotel on Market Street just around the corner. The Shout House is a dueling piano bar where you suggest songs for them to play and if you play the video you can see they are also naughty and like to embarrass the crap out of people.



Yes. I drank way too much and sang way off key and I think I was the oldest person there by a healthy margin. And I sent a drunk text picture to BFF's son, Ruthless, of the pianos and then meant to send him a second text to join us since his new GF lives in downtown, but I forgot to send the second message. All he got was a fuzzy picture of some pianos. Thank heaven he was actually back in Temecula and did not get the message right away. He already knows I'm kinda crazy.



Next time I go I need to have a list of songs to suggest. Some songs were so bad but the nice thing is you can pay them to stop singing it. Hee, hee. It became a battle for some people to get a song played. Beatle songs were a big hit...and those are older than me.

I'm Gonna Plump the Girls

What do you think? All they do now when they are free ranging is squawk a lot. 

I was going to make a crude and childish remark about the male chicken parts...

But a cock-a-doodle-doo is hard to catch at my age.


 

I've Been Hexed

Tampons and Chocolate has hexed me...and dude I'm looking for a wax doll to stick pins in tonight. 

We are in the same Fantasy Football league. Her team is the Winos. Hah! Figures. 


Ouch!!! Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Those damn witch doctors have no sense of humor.



Sheesh. Going into today's game, she had 113 points and I had about 92 but I still had the San Diego Chargers vs. Denver Broncos game to go. I have Phillip Rivers, quarterback for the Chargers, Vincent Jackson for the Chargers and the Chargers defense.  But...I also have Kyle Orton quarterback for the Broncos sitting on my bench and I was playing my Broncos defense. I had a chance to pick up some major points and kick her butt. But noooooooo..............



I talked to her earlier today. (Yeah, she was being so nice. She was helping me because I was stuck on some dictation. I'm such a sucker.) Then she tells me she put a hex on Phillip Rivers. A hex? Ha, ha. Sure. I think your box of wine needs refilling.



This is where it gets creepy. The final score: Winos 113 vs. NanoBots 107.  Do you know how may points Rivers got? 14 Kyle Orton? 22. If I picked Orton instead, I. would. have. won. Rivers had 26 points last week. 


Man. When she is PMSing she is like all powerful and stuff. I know I took my cauldron out for Halloween...may have to do some cooking. 


Wine is a good thing to add to food, right?

Suzy the Squirrel Killer

Do you name your cars? 

I wished I had named my first car...a 1965 Ford Mustang. It was only a 6 cylinder. When you stepped on the gas, it might or might move and forget quick darting turns in traffic. I NEVER drove in Hollywood. They are already nuts there and would turn into breaks in traffic that Evil Knievel might think twice about. But I loved my car. Except when I didn't. I just remembered how many times after working late at Busch Gardens in the Valley, I would drudge out to my car smelling like hamburgers or cotton candy and then try to start it. I would pump and pump and pump.....and pump. My right calf muscle should have been twice the size of my left like some freak work-out accident.

But the car that I remember fondly was Suzy, our 1984 Honda Accord. We drove that car for almost 20 years. I loved Suzy. I learned to drive a 5 speed because of her. Thank God I learned in Lubbock, Texas, nice and flat. Nothing but short stubby cotton plants for miles. No hills to practice burning out the clutch on. 

We moved from Texas to California and bought our first house, kind of at the outskirts of a growing city. It was the last housing bubble. Ah, me, such memories. Too bad Wall Street and the bankers have such poor memories. 


There were empty fields all around our little group of a few hundred homes. Big, big empty fields. Filled with the stupidest squirrels. Right up there with the dumb bunnies. They were definitely not smart like the gopher from Caddyshack. One of my friend's mom thought that gopher was real by the way. She wanted to know how they trained it to do all that acting. Maybe we should have told her they offered the gopher exclusive rights to sell his story to the Enquirer.


Leaving the neighborhood was like playing whack a mole at the carnival....will you smack a squirrel or not? The first time I smooshed a squirrel I felt soooooo bad. The damn squirrel ran right out in front of me literally at the last minute. Do you know how hard it is to stop yourself from swerving and slamming on the brakes? 

After about the fifth squirrel, I gave up. I figured this was Darwinism in action. Okay, you flea-bitten, dog-food-stealing, chirping noise maker, let's make a game out of it. It got to the point where you could see the little morons lining up on the side of the road. I would literally almost be crawling down the street ready to slam on the brakes, but no, they would wait and wait and wait and just when you thought you had made it past them....they would scamper at top speed into the street.

Bump. Bump. 

I wanted a sticker to put on the side of my car like a bad ass World War II flying ace going after the Nazis. A squashed nut? A squirrel tail? Start my own cargo cult with the cool painting I wanted to put on my little Honda.

I have a silver Honda Odyssey now. Still looking for a name for it though. No animal life mayhem with this one. Any ideas? Just keep in mind, though, in my imagination I drive a Bugatti Veyron. Vroom. Vroom.  

Sfogliatelle and Calamari

Downtown San Diego...Little Italy's 15th Annual Festa.

Sunday was the perfect day for an outdoor festival. Sun shining, sparkling ocean just down the street, and so much delicious food. 

BFF, her hubby, Wiley E. Coyote, and I went to Little Italy. After hunting for a parking spot and finally forking over ten dollars we park and walk to India Street. A long stretch of the street is blocked off and there are people walking everywhere, music playing, and people dancing.

One man was singing sounding like Frank or Dino and there was an adorable older couple dancing. She was wearing the most outlandish clothes but they were so cute. 

Sorry about the hand...that's the singer doing his crooner impression. They were whirling around just having so much fun.

As we walk in, I see someone selling balloons and they are not your usual balloons...they are octopus balloons. 

Me: Why octopus balloons?

BFF: Because it has eight legs.

Me: I know, but why an octopus?

BFF: Why not? They're cute.

Me: They are cute but they are not your normal balloon, so why the octopus?

BFF: *laughing at me* See, they have eight legs, that makes them an octopus. 

Me: Ummm...okay.

As we walk away, I still cannot figure out why they would have octopus balloons in Little Italy. It was too cute to be Ursula from the Little Mermaid.  

See. I KNEW there had to be a reason for the octopus balloon...octopus salad. What? No tentacle tortellinis? 

I don't know about you, but when I go to places like this, I go for the food and the people watching. This brought back so many memories. My best friend growing up was Italian and her dad was forever teaching me how to say all the words. I made for good comic relief. All the older Italian couples just reminded me of her parents.


We started with sausage sandwiches with grilled peppers, onions, and sauce. And you know what? The water was only $1. A dollar. Not $3 or more. I wanted to hug everyone there. The sandwich was so good and it is gone in no time flat. We are sitting on the curb enjoying the people watching. The lines are long but they move quickly. 

There are models of the Nina, Pinta, and the Santa Maria because Columbus is one of them you know. 

We wander further down the street and I see heaven....pastries. Pastries that look like they weigh a pound each. Pastries that look like 3 days' worth of calories. Like I care. I was salivating so bad that I forgot to take a picture. Wiley gets in the long line and BFF and I stand up front deciding exactly which pastry we want. 


And I see it. Sfogliatelle. But how do I tell Wiley what I want when I can't even say it? Su-fog-la.... Try again. S-vog-ti.... A woman turns around and in perfect Italian tells me how to say it! I repeat after her and she smiles at me like her favorite kid. I manage to tell Wiley what I want and we get calamari. They are making it right there in front of us and it smells so good. 

I know. 


Calamari and sfogliatelle. Pastry and squid. BFF is holding her nose and diving into her Iris, a giant deep fried donut stuffed full of cheese. I tease her with the legs. She is not amused. Wiley squeezes lemon on the calamari and it is delicious. 

BFF's next vehicle? Wiley just bought a motorcycle, so why not. Beep, beep. Pink is her favorite color, too. She told me growing up she used to ride a moped around town. What?? A mini motorcycle mama? 

Sidewalk chalk artists were at the end of the street. The only thing we drew on the sidewalks was hopscotch squares and four square. Maybe I can become a stick figure Picasso. Wait? Maybe I would be Goya. Not being Italian and all. 


What a day....wish you all could have been there.