Interesting times...the best reason for a Happy Hour~! Is it time for the next Great Depression or perhaps I feel that way because I am over 50.
I was married for 25 years and now I'm divorced. Two girls, ages 25 and 20, and one grandson (soon to be two!). Love politics, economics, music, friends, family, sci fi, reading, philosophy.
Wish I understood the world of high finance better. Getting quite an education on Calculated Risk, but feel like the dunce in the corner of the classroom.
Don't just lurk! Make a comment. Even if I don't know you. Especially if I don't know you. Have a conversation with a fellow commenter. That is what makes a blog so fun to read. What do other people think about what you said. What do they say to each other. Link to someone's blog because you love their comments made here.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Some randomness that is rolling around my head and I can't focus my brain to write a coherent post about each one. Rolling stones gather no moss, right? Or perhaps it's more like I'm losing my marbles.
It is Halloween time at Disneyland and Jack Skellington rules the night. (I'm an annual passholder.) BFF was supposed to go with us but she is down with a cold, so it was our young friends who are servers from our favorite happy hour and I. They are so cute to hang out with us. One of them went to school with one of the Book Babe's daughter. I think of them as our "kids."
We stood in line at the recently refurbished Space Mountain. So weird. I have a bumper sticker from the first summer they opened Space Mountain and now decades later I'm in line...for freaking ninety minutes...to ride it again.
There is spooky kinda creepy music. The kind of music where you expect a really haunted looking house to pop up. Very Outer Limits. They have images and fluctuating colors projected on the mountain. One is a rusty, slightly greenish, orangish color, then swirling tie dye looking colors, then like the surface of the moon. Stars and galaxies float by. I was really waiting for the icky girl who climbs out of the damn TV in the movie "The Ring" to come crawling down the sides of the mountain. Let me in, let me in. That scene freaked me out.
Uh. oh. I don't want to say how they changed the ride for Ghost Galaxy...but I think I had an accident in my granny panties.
BFF and I were gabbing today and we got to talking about health care being as it seems to be all anybody can talk about. I personally don't go to doctors. I told her that if I want to know what the different colors of mucus from my nose means, I look it up on Google.
She told me I didn't need to do that, she could tell me. Clear is okay, no problem. Slightly yellow means something is brewing. Green means you got it, and green with red is trouble.
Or maybe you need to stop picking your nose so much.
We had to go eat fried pickles at Lucille's after that.
I have to mail in my taxes by October 15th. I truly wish everyone had to write a check every year...and only once a year...to pay their taxes. You realize then that what you send them every year would probably pay for top 'o the line insurance. Or at least keep me in Pop Tarts.
Tomorrow we head to San Diego to see Jason Mraz in a fiesta type concert. Teddy Bear says they will kick my butt out of the concert if I try to sneak in booze.
I better break open the piggy bank. What? What do you mean Uncle Sam has left me a note. Does anybody know if the IRS takes Pop Tarts in lieu of penalties and interest?
No, really. Is there anything cuter than a troop full of Brownies? So cute. Missing teeth. Nonstop chatter. Endless enthusiasm. (Well, except for the high pitched screaming that all little girls are soooo good at.)
How big a floozy would you be if you embezzled all the cookie money?
No really. The cookie money. It's only once a year that people get to fill their addiction for thin mints and shortbread....yummy. The little dickens go out there and harass, I mean, ask you to buy their cookies. Come on, it's once a year and for a good cause.
I have even been a cookie mom. Thousands of boxes of cookies in my living room, dining room, everywhere. Carbohydrate heaven. Fatty paradise.
I'll tell you. You would be the troop leader who is in the midst of divorcing her husband because, well, she is cheating on him and she needs money for the floozy red dress that matches the trailer she ends up living in. And she steals the cookie money.
I am trying to imagine her at the Pearly Gates. (I know I'm an agnostic...sheesh, play along.) How do you explain to St. Peter you stole cookie money from Brownies? I bet even the big guy orders cookies.
I think I would rather have Severus Snape practice his potions on me.
I am so glad my girls are grown up and I don't have to volunteer anymore. No more grad night, Brownies, PTA, snack day, book fairs, back to school nights....
Am I rubbing it in too much?
*diabolical laughter*
Wait, wait. Does anyone know how to get a tattoo off? You know, the one that says sucker on my forehead?
Happy 57 years to you~! Something older than me...yippee. I see you everywhere and on everything.
I even saw you tattooed on the back of some guys neck. I wanted to take a picture but my brother was ready to strangle me. I think the guy would not have minded. I mean it has his birthday on it and all...09/18/1985.
Well, yeah, he looked like a gang member, but still it was a cool tattoo. Very Hitman like.
I think everyone should go to a bar tonight to celebrate barcode's birthday.
You can hum "Walk the Line" if you want. Or dress like a zebra. Or go as a scanner.
That Mary of BlogRock is a miracle worker...she's magic with the make up brush and just as magical with the keyboard.
She made that cartoon of me in my new header...allowing for a creative flight of fancy, that's me. Well, the smile is me anyway. And I do have brown eyes and brown hair. I do have bigger boobs though.
Maybe I can get her to add some cleavage. Ummmmm.
She made so pretty. Did you notice the Teddy Bear and the bowl of Hot Tamales? My nicknames for my daughters. Hee, hee. Shoot. I meant for her to put the letter Z on my shirt...for my precious wonderful grandson. I can be like Laverne from Laverne and Shirley.
Yes, I think I'm going to like my new place.
Come on over, pull up a bar stool. There are pretzels, peanuts, foo foo drinks, beer, and iced tea (for my teetotaler friends). Maybe I can add a plasma screen. Oh, Jack and coke. The cost? Some good conversation. And remember...
Run like hell. Don't stop running. Keep running. Fatties will not survive. Although my personal favorite was Rule # The Double Tap.
Horror movies always drive me nuts when the stupid people assume that the monster is dead with one bullet and they go up and TOUCH the monster and.....ohhhhhhhhhmyyyyygooddddddddddd it's still alive. Well, no kidding. Maybe you were already a zombie with no brains so you are on a quest to find some. Perhaps you deserve to get eaten. Go ahead and get chased by a zombie and have him munch on your limbs.
One of the characters is on the hunt for Twinkies. Yes. Twinkies. Yellows logs of creamy goodness. He flips out at one point when he thinks he has found deep fried twinkies. Deep fried twinkies? Have you guys been holding out on me?
I like frozen Ding Dongs.Does that count?
Rule #17 Don't be a hero.
Ah, you know what happens. Of course, I took a Facebook quiz and only have a 55% chance of surviving. I figure my biggest downfall was failing Rule #1 Cardio. It is so bad, I avoid walking to my mailbox, which is only 4 or 5 houses down the street. I wait until I have to run an errand and on my way out of the neighborhood I go pick it up. Which, because I think I'm becoming a zombie, may be once a week....or longer. Do you have any idea how much junk mail I get? My mailbox is jammed, stuffed with JUNK. Junk. And that counts the letter from the IRS I got.
Is it wrong to want to practice Rule #2 on the IRS? (Not the nice lady who helped me today. Full of southern charm and a laugh that just made you want to join in. I love to make the IRS laugh...and no, she was not laughing AT me. I told her that the company cannot find copies of old forms 1099 because they are lost in a warehouse, like the ark of the covenant in Indiana Jones. She thought that was funny.)
BFF's son, Ruthless, took the quiz and has a 95% chance of surviving. Ummmm. So sad. I'm sure that one of the rules is not schlepping around excess weight around. Even if it's his mom's BFF.
Oooohhh, and Bill Murray is in the movie and he's funny and not weird funny. So go to Zombieland and tell me what you think. If you take me along, I'll buy the popcorn.
I can Go Geek and Hang with the Girls. What? What did you think I was talking about?
Watching a trailer for 2012 and the geeky guys...my brother and his friend...are commenting on the great graphics and action. Lots of eye rolling from the wives. JuJuBeez and Ms. Shrink Lady. As if.
Of course, they are still kind of miffed because they supposedly had a date night last week with the hubbies. They got all dressed up, did the make up and hair thing. They go to dinner and try to decide on a movie. Yeah, right. Action movies outta there. Chick flicks don't make it to first base. They bicker. And end up back at the house...and end up watching the Fast and the Furious and the girls fall asleep. HAHAHA.
We are at dinner and one of TVs has a trailer for 2012. I think 2012 looks like it might be okay but the graphics look so cool. Watching St. Peter's basilica roll over and crush everyone in the plaza was so cool. I know...I'm going straight to hell, but it was cool. I mean, the last earthquake here in California we got to watch freeways collapse and fall down. Ho hum.
Anyway, the guys are going on about the movies and my SIL rolls her eyes and makes the comment about how like unreal it is that when they take off in a plane and they fly so close to the ground and it is all dramatic and unreal. Man, buzz kill. Without thinking, I remark, "Yeah, like the 'Time Traveller's Wife' story is so probable."
Ooops. "Hey, whose side are you on? You are supposed to be on our side~!" I may be banished from hanging with the girls. Fine. The next sex toy party they have, I will leave my checkbook at home.
Dang. I like action/fantasy/sci-fi films. (By the way, Zombieland rocks). I love chick flicks and musicals. Where do I fit in?
Anybody in the market for a switch hitter? Anyone?
