Evil Santa has left the building

That's right. I'm done.

This creepy fucker has stared at me for the last time.

And?

He's coming to stay with one of YOU!!!

It's the gift that keeps on giving.

Bwahahahahaha!

Wordless Weds 12.22

Loveable Louise

This is an e-mail forward from A, and it's too good not to share.

Everyone has a good holiday story, and this one? Made me laugh so hard I cried. Literally cried.

Enjoy and here's hoping that you all have a laugh your ass off "Louise" moment this holiday season.

*********************

 

As you contemplate the coming holidays with your relatives, I thought you might get a chuckle from this tale of an unforgettable Christmas dinner. This is an article submitted to a 1999 Louisville Sentinel contest to find out who had the wildest Christmas dinner. This won first prize.

 

As a joke, my brother used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them. What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because every Christmas morning, although Jay's kids' stockings were overflowed, his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.

 

One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things at Wal-Mart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown. If you've never been in an X-rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse yourself. I was there an hour saying things like, "What does this do?" "You're kidding me!" "Who would buy that?"

 

Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section. I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour. Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do things I'd only seen in a book on animal husbandry. I settled for "Lovable Louise." She was at the bottom of the price scale. To call Louise a "doll" took a huge leap of imagination.

 

On Christmas Eve, with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life. My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning hours. Long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling pantyhose with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home, and giggled for a couple of hours.

 

The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the dog confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some more. We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas Dinner.

 

My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. "What the hell is that?" she asked.

 

My brother quickly explained, "It's a doll."

 

"Who would play with something like that?" Granny snapped. I had several candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut.  "Where are her clothes?" Granny continued.

 

"Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran," Jay said, trying to steer her into the dining room.

 

But Granny was relentless. "Why doesn't she have any teeth?"

 

Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying, "Hang on Granny! Hang on!"

 

My grandfather, a delightful old man with very poor eyesight, sidled up to me and said, "Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?"

 

I told him she was Jay's friend. A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.

 

The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise that sounded a lot like my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa. The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth to mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over his chair and wet his pants and Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat in the car. It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember.

 

Later in my brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination to decide the cause of Louise's collapse. We discovered that Louise had suffered from a hot ember to the back of her right thigh. Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her to perfect health.  Louise went on to star in several bachelor party movies. I think Grandpa still calls her whenever he can get out of the house.

 

Antler Up

KLZ at Taming Insanity is known for those antlers.

She's hosting a linky (and contest, which I MUST WIN!!) for others sportin' their antlers.




*Photo taken by my Momma. She's here. Did I mention? Heh. 'Tis why I'm not playin online as much. You know you miss me. Just admit it.

And tell KLZ to pick me as a winner, dammit. I'm hot. I deserve it.

My Momma is...

My Momma is a baker. When I was little and we all lived as a nuclear family, my momma owned a bakery. The only one in our tiny little town. We would march past the bakery on the way to school and get our breakfast, because Momma had been there since 4am. She specialized in “Nisu” a finnish word for sweet dough. Think cinnamon buns, but also bread made from the dough, ‘magic twists’. Mmmm. She also specialized in cakes. Cake decorating, to be precise. She even taught classes. This was years ago, before fondant and painting pics on a cake. Every rose was hand crafted out of frosting. Every word was written out in cursive, in frosting. She still decorates that way and we have the BEST cakes at our functions. She also sends baked goods as her Christmas gifts and this year? I’ll get them fresh, baked right in MY KITCHEN!

My Momma is a teacher. She taught cake decorating classes, she taught me to be frugal, she taught me to love unconditionally, she taught me to stick up for myself, she taught me to laugh, she taught me to cry, she taught me that nothing in the world is worth more than your child’s happiness.

My Momma is a nutcake.



‘nuff said.

My Momma is a healer. She has magic powers. Even through arthritic hands, she can cure sore and tired feet, brush the stress out of your head, and remove tension knots from the shoulders like a Russian masseuse.

In 3 sleeps, I will have my Momma with me.

My kids will get to snuggle with Gramma JuJu and help her bake and “do art” with her. My husband will have free time in Manland so that Momma and I can watch stupid movies from ABC Family and The Hallmark Channel.

My Momma. My healer, my baker, my teacher.

My Momma.

I cry "Uncle"

Seriously.

Hands in the air, tossin in the white flag, I'm done.

FFO 12-10

Friday.

Yes, what a lovely week it's been. I have a solution, though, I plan to flip shit off and rid myself of the crank before the weekend begins.

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Oof, I have just one flip off today...

MYSELF.

That's right. One swollen vienna sausage middle finger flip off to me. For being tired. And sick. And sick of being sick and tired. OK, I could flip that off, too, but I'm not. I'm just sayin' that everything going on around me has really gotten to me. I've been hiding a bit. From all y'all. From family. From work.

I need to cut it out, don't you think?


Link Up - even if you just want to flip Me off, too! :p

Sometimes it's fun being married to me

I got this e-mail from Mr. Kiss the other day:

Thanks for being a working mom. It takes a lot to do that nowadays and glad you have a grasp on that and expenses. I see some of the guys really struggling here with this decision to move* because they are single income with wives who don’t ‘get it’.

Love you.

*the move is a potential job in Texas, as their company has been bought by the Fucking French.

Well his e-mail kinda made my year.

I shop. I shop a LOT. Mostly at Target. But I can get every-fucking-thing-under-the-SUN at Target. Prescriptions, food, make up, shampoo, toys, clothes, miralax (don't ask).

And sometimes? He gives me shit about the Target bill. Like "That was $1,300 in the past 3 months!" Well, Honeypie, imagine if I were some snoot and HAD to shop at Needless Markup? Or even Macy's? And HAD to buy shoes Jimmy Choo?

Because seriously, that would most likely quad-triple-multiply the monthly expenditures.

After I let it sink in, I had to realize that even though the man gets under my nerves sometimes, he's pretty good to have around. Just acknowledging the struggles of a working mom gets him some points, not to mention the "love you." He rarely signs e-mails that way.

So I had to reply to him, right?

Here you go:

Who are you and what did you do with my husband?

Kidding, Thank You. Love you, too.

p.s. this means my dress shopping at Target was ok, right? Spent $39 for your party, but it could have been $129.99 at Ann Taylor :)

p.p.s. I need $40 for my hair appointment tomorrow, for your Party.

p.p.p.s. And don't forget I'm getting my nails done. For Your Party!

Don'tcha wish you were married to me?

footy-note. I'm off to NYC for a while.

Friday Flip Off 12-3

Tuesday evening, we took the boys for hair cuts. They typically do a close cut, #2 on the sides, #3 on the back. This winter, we're trying to grow it a little to give them a style. For the growing process, their girl had to do some blending, so the buzzers were used.

It's such a distinct sound, the buzz of an electric clipper. Moving up the head as the hair just falls away...

Wednesday morning when I showered, I distinctly remembered washing my hair. Smooshing the soap around, running my fingers through to get all of the conditioner out, grabbing all of the lose ends and rinsing them down. I remember blow drying my hair - thinking what a pain in the ass it was.

Wednesday afternoon, I remember being annoyed at the rain that was messing up my hair as I ran across the street to the cafe.

I was meeting A.

We were having a cocktail before going to the salon.

The salon where she got her head shaved.

Did she do the same on Wednesday morning? Did she try to remember her 'last day' with her "Mess"-y hair? Was she scared as the clippers started to buzz...

I can't speak for A, but as one of few witnesses, I can say she sat with her shoulders high and a smile on her face.

Even through the tears and trembling chin, she smiled.

Today, I have a double middle finger flip off to Stage 3 Breast Cancer. Once again, Fuck You. For making my friend have to be so very brave. And for making me be strong in the face of fear, but losing my shit for an entire day after.

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a linky for sharing...

WW - thanks MIL