And Now For Something Completely Different  

yet another reason why I love my hubby...

I just realized there was no Friday Photo posting this week. As a mea culpa make good, may I present this delightful video guaranteed to make you guffaw heartily. Me darlin' husband who subscribes to as many online sites as he does printed periodicals, found this on Very Short List. VSL (not to be confused with VPL--ladies, you know what I'm talking about) is a daily service which shares all the latest hip and happening stuff flitting around on the web. Geo, knowing me so well, knew this would make me laugh so hard milk might actually come out of my nose. The guy's Vlog name is ParryGripp. His home page has all of his assorted animal antics videos. Enjoy!

Giving Thanks...  

for these are a few of my favorite thangs 

It's the Saturday after our big familial Thanksgiving food fest, and I'm still full from two days of traditional food bingeing. I love this holiday. It's always a treat for me, first because I have three whole, glorious days away from the yoke of oppression known as KD (or as spell check likes to suggest "KAKA"), and second I get to spend lots and lots of quality time with my family consuming mass quantities of food and drink, as well as enjoy a sprinkling of activity (cultural or otherwise) so as not to feel like a complete sloth. 

This year was no exception. Due to an unforeseen turkey snafu, we found ourselves with a few extra hours to kill before dinner would be ready. Hmmm.... What to do? How to while away the hours until the bird is sufficiently cooked? 

Why... crack open a bottle of wine (or two) and start the party early, of course.  

Thirty minutes and one dead soldier later--the atmosphere markedly much more lively and LOUD--a call for reinforcements was placed in the form of a second bottle of holiday vino and ....

PUDDING SHOTS!

Why not. There was nothing to watch on TV except football (ewww). Besides, it's always a good time when the Sisters Pelini get lit to the point where we can't feel our cheeks...or our faces for that matter. (insert rim shot here) After much giggling, toasting and Woo Hooing at totally random events, the bird was pronounced DOA and carved for consumption. And. It. Was. GOOD!! (thanks to the guys for picking up our drunken slack and finishing up the food prep)

Two hours later, time to shove some sweet treats into our gullet (that's what she said!). There was a veritable cornucopia of deliciousness spread across the table, not to mention desserts a plenty (Hey-O, Badda Bing!)...chocolate cake, cheese cake, a new pumpkin thing and lemon meringue pies. Ohmigod! This year is the first year my lemon pies didn't melt into a pool of sticky yellow soup. Check it out. It's gorgeous! Seriously. Look at how beautiful it is. And so tasty, too!

The only thing that was missing from this wonderful day was our niece Reg who's spending a year abroad in Japan. She may be living across the globe, but she's never far from our hearts. She would have loved the pre-dinner frivolity. We love ya. This group shot's for you.

To all of my family and friends who make each trip around the sun worthwhile, I thank you for just being who you are and allowing me to come along for the ride. Cheers!!

Now I gotta go help Geo with the leaves.... 

Having nothing of note to say today, I hand over the reigns of creative writing to my friend and coworker who shall go by his random stripper name, Blaze Lusty Tush. Enjoy and Happy Thanksgiving.

When You Gotta Go...

One Sunday afternoon I went into a downtown fast food restaurant to pick up a couple of lunch orders for me and two coworkers. When I entered the establishment, let's call it Blendy's, a young gentleman was standing in the hallway off to the right of the line. This is a normal occurrence at Blendy's, but what I witnessed next I have never seen before and will probably never see again.

The young man was in his late teens to early twenties, about 5'8" and wearing jeans so loose that you could fit two people in them. What piqued my interest was the fact the lad was grasping the back of his blue jeans in his right hand, pacing frantically around Blendy's. His nervous gait slipping into a slow jog as he went to the men's restroom door and rapped frantically upon it. Then the whole restaurant heard the reason for his urgency.

"Sir! I have to shit!! Please, Sir! I'm going to shit my f*cking pants!" I looked with sheer amazement at the other people in line and waited for a response. The reaction was just as you'd expect...nervous silence. I also thought to myself that the young man was using his manners by saying "Sir". Just as I was about to laugh out loud, I saw the young man sprint back to his table and ask the other young fellow he was with, "How long does it take to wash your f*ckin' hands? Jesus Christ!" He then returned quickly back to the restroom door and began to pound loudly.

"Sir! I really have to f*cking shit!" By now panic started to set in, the look of helplessness was priceless. At this point, cold sweat we have all felt at one time or another had begun to leak out of his pores. "I drank way too much last night. Please SIR!!" He stared at his audience--the entire restaurant--waiting for somebody to help him somehow.

Blendy's became silent. Even the employees stopped filling orders. The whole place was caught in this web of drama...the suspense palpable. I secretly was hoping it would last. Thoughts I never would have pondered in a fast food line entered my mind like, "If I see shit run out of his pant leg, will I throw up?" or "Maybe I should just tell him to use the lady's room."

Finally a welcomed noise entered our ear space--the familiar click of a door unlocking. The kid ran into the hallway and busted into the bathroom even though the patron still had his hand on the knob. This was an elderly gentleman, stricken with curvature of the spine and body odor. He slowly, and I mean sloooowly, walked over to his group of old men friends and said loudly, "He must really have to shit." Well put old man. Well put.

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.)