Attack of the Killer Hummus...

or waiter, there's a tooth in my soup

Okay, so the family unit went out Saturday to celebrate Geo's Mum's birthday at a local eatery. We're all sitting around enjoying the hummus n'at appetizer, when the hubby stops, fishes around in his mouth and presents...half of his tooth!?!

What's that about?

It wasn't like he was demonstrating his latest carnie act, you know the one where he bends a huge rod (she said rod) of rebar with his bicuspids to the amazement of enchanted (albeit slightly disturbed) onlookers. At least that would be a cool story. No, sadly he was only chompin' on a piece of pita. "Mmmm. Mighty fine pita." *crack* ... tooth shrapnel.

Are we really so long of tooth that our long teeth are jumping ship?

I suspect so.

My own pearly whites have staged a mutiny this year. Root canal, crowns (plural), sensitivity preventing me from chewing ice cubes anymore. And I do love to chew me some ice cubes. I'm generally having a great time growing older. Mentally, the process is pretty cool. A lot of shite doesn't rattle my cage anymore. Like a fine w(h)ine, I'm mellowing with age. I don't get as crazy in the car, flipping people off is almost non-existent anymore (and I was so good at it, too) and waiting in loooooong lines doesn't honk me off as often. Even many marital misgivings are answered with less rancor. Maybe it's the aging... or maybe it's the Absolut.

Physically--getting older sucks bong water. I can't get out of a chair anymore without a chorus of creaks, cracks and pops. I'm like a freakin' bowl of rice crispies.

But middle-agedom does grant one wish for those of us less-than-endowed dames. Thanks to the the laws of gravity, turns out there is more of one's "attributes" to corral in a brassiere, if you know what I mean. Time provides a delightful development of one's d'ecollatage, at least for a brief amount of time before it all goes horribly, horribly south. A small gift from the Gods for one last gasp of femininity and empowerment.

So don't fear the forties, girlfriends. It's your last chance to dress up the girls.

You've Been Schooled

in the fine art of dancin' like a white guy

I LOVE Paul Rudd and here's why... watch this video from The Daily Show. Go ahead. I'll wait.

watch this video link now (sorry I don't know how to post the actual video)

AHaHaHaHaHaHaHa!!! I ask you, what other dude would allow himself to be taped dancing like such a spaz. Seriously. It's glorious! I laughed so hard I may have even tinkled a little. He's always been Jon's "go-to" guy in a pinch, and this is exactly why he holds that honor. I salute you Mr. Rudd for your unmitigated hutzpah to entertain your adoring fans at the expense of your dignity. Bravo!

Friday Photo #4  

or calgon...take me away

This entire week has been bloody cold...like January cold. I'm talking wake up temps at a balmy 20 and highs hovering at a sweltering 33 with winds that rip through your flesh. Last week we had San Diego weather...sunny, mid-70s, gorgeous and filled with lots of (...). Apparently I have a love affair with (...)  Must...stop..dotting. 

I digress... (Aaaaa!! there it is again!) 

Anyway, I need to mentally go to my happy place at Long Beach Island, sip a frosty Margarita and warm my chilled bones in the summer sun. Aaaaaaaah.. That's better. 

Now Here List #2

in which I continue the juvenile theme of the week

Upon review, this week's postings have had a decidedly juvenile bent, what with all the Betty-scaping and Star Trek tooting (Come on...you have to admit that was Hi-Larious!). I could try to wrap up the week on a more sophisticated, cultured note...but, you know, what's the point.

Having had so much fun thinking of euphemisms for girlie junk, I ask you my reader(s) to share your favorite terms for female and male naughty bits.

Let's review this week's contribution for the lady bidnez:

cooter

luscious under bottom area

tuppy

ham wallet

and the lastest fav at work, squish mitten

Some favs for the lads loins:

dingly dangs

trouser snake

weinersauras

and new favorite, pork steeple

Note: I've finally figured out which settings to change so anyone can comment. Woo Hoo!! So have at it. My apologies to anyone who was refused access before. I'm such a computer dinosaur. It takes a while for my short, T-Rex dino arms to reach the keyboard without hitting my big ole, bulbous head on the cabinet. Grrrrrr

(P.S.: Feel free to list any clever Punk Rock band names here as well, since I effed up and some of you couldn't contribute on the original posting.)

(Completely unrelated PPS: my fantasy husband, Rhett is playing TWICE this weekend in Dallas!? He's always in Dallas. And yet I can't get our friend MJ to go see him. She lives in the Miller Mecca for God's sake! That just ain't right.)

What Are You...10?!?

why yes, yes I am

This is one of the funniest things I've ever seen. I dare you not to laugh. Further proof that I am indeed a juvenile boy. Enjoy!

By the way, I saw the trailer for the new Star Trek movie last night. Even though for me it ain't Star Trek unless William Shatner is in it, the movie looks fun. May be worth it just to see Simon Pegg play Scotty. "I'm going as fast as I can, Cap'n!"

Holy Crap!?!

or what the ef is up with my hair?

Okay, here's a quickie (that's what she said)... I just got up from the computer--post posting and realized my hair looks like Peter frelling Pan!? 

Not that Peter Pan--this Peter Pan

See..I told you I had the heart of a 10-year-old boy. (And no I'm not sharing a picture...Just trust me on this one.)

I Want My...I Want My...I Want My Mix CD

in defense of the much maligned mix tape as a gift

I love making our friends mix CDs. An enormous amount of thought goes into each person's mix. Sometimes a theme is evident like a "he said-she said" kinda thing. Sometimes it starts with a kick-ass song combo randomly played on my iPod. And sometimes it's just a vessel through which to share artists who are really rocking my world at the time.

Sharing music is a huge thing with me. It's such a kick to hip a pal or three to the likes of Wheat, Fountains of Wayne, Michael Franti, Cake, Regina Spektor, Sondre Lerche or, of course, Old 97's. I know some people think gifting mix CDs is lame, but to me it's a way to show how much I love them. (insert finger in throat here)

And I really dig receiving mixes. Seriously. I love hearing what other folks are into. There are always at least a half dozen new musical nuggets to be discovered on each disc. I've recently received several compilations from two friends who have completely different tastes. One sent a great collection of oddball covers like Dolly Parton singing Stairway to Heaven, the Gypsy Kings singing Hotel California in Spanish and Tori Amos quietly crooning I Don't Like Mondays. The other sent a truly eclectic mix of soul, blues, old rock, reggae and Rammstein with a little Zappa thrown in for good measure. Being a Pop/Rock gal, who knew I'd actually like The Derek Trucks Band, or Joe Turner, Ted Hawkins or Eva Cassidy?? Not me. That's what makes these gems so cool.

By far the Mix Master of our life has always been our dear friend Beeeeal, or as we like to refer to him...Cap'n Confabulator. Through his tapes (now CDs), he has introduced us to probably half of our record collection. From REM to Rogue Wave; Belly to Beck; The Shins to Snow Patrol; Death Cab For Cutie to the Cult; Oasis to my beloved Old 97's (...I could go on and on), my ears owe him a debt of gratitude.

So to all our friends who care enough to send their very best mixes, I thank you from the bottom of my CD player. Thank you Marco, Billy Hank, Mike, Zach and especially you Cap'n Confab. You have made our world a little brighter and iTunes a whole lot richer.