Tuesday, November 29, 2011

I Eat Chocolate, Therefore I Am

Today's post is sponsored in part by my incredibly shrinking ass.

I just got back from my Weight Watchers meeting.  Before I tell you about my weigh-in, I'd like to say that I'm no coward, y'all.  I think I deserve a chocolate bar just for showing up there the week after Thanksgiving.  I'll take a Kit Kat, thankyouverymuch. 

Lately, I've been pretty quiet about my weight loss efforts.  The reason for that is simple.  I am not a weight loss blogger and I don't pretend to be.  I make no secret of the fact that I've struggled with my weight FOREVER, and I'm in no position to preach to the choir about walking away from the chocolate, when many times, I don't choose to do so myself (Dear Chocolate, I heart you).

As a matter of fact, the other day, when questioned about what it is that I write about, I answered, "I'm just an incredibly youthful looking, normal gal (hehe) who writes about everything....you know, everyday life...like how I sometimes want to stab people, how some people are whores, and how my pursuit of a smaller ass is never ending.

Incidentally, the person who asked me this question was Jason, the awesome sales associate at a local candle store, who upon hearing my response said, "OH MY GOD!  YOU ARE MY SOUL MATE!" 

Clearly, Jason is a man with flawless taste.

Anywho, since I've been exercising like a mad dog lately (at 5:30am, for those of you who know how much of a friggin morning person I am) and making the healthiest food choices possible, I was thrilled to find out that I've maintained my weight through Thanksgiving and into this week.  Plus, in the last few weeks, I've managed to attain this:




Sweet niblets!  It's only a matter of time before I'm wearing a thong on a public beach!

You heard me.

Before I leave you to continue on with my incredibly exciting day (Tonight I'm roasting spaghetti squash AND brussel sprouts!  WHO'S A WILD WOMAN?!  I AM!  I AM!), I just want to tell you what happened to me after the meeting, when I met up with the Hubster at work

I walked into his office to tell him how my weigh-in went.  Then, I said, "Hey, today there was talk around the Weight Watchers meeting room about my working for the company!  The district manager was there and she said that she seriously wants me to consider IT because...SHE LOVES ME."  It's probably because I'm sooooo awesome.

His response? 

"Ummmm....Yeah?  No.  It's probably more because she knows that you can talk a dog off a meat wagon."

I like my explanation better.

Friday, November 18, 2011

They Never Look Like Clooney :(

Wednesday night, Hubs and I went to our friend, Linda's book signing, at a local wine bistro (and yummy restaurant).  When we got there, we noticed that virtually every table was taken, so we moseyed on up to the bar, where we contemplated having dinner.  Upon further observation, Hubs spotted a nice table for two and told me to wait at the bar while he asked our favorite waitress, Ashley, if said table was free for the taking.

Two seconds after Hubs walked away, and I am LITERALLY talking TWO SECONDS here, people---the man sitting at the bar to my left, tapped me on the arm.....

Crazy ManHi.  I'm Jerry.  I'm sixty-four years old and I was in the Navy for fourteen years.  Are you single?

Me:   No.

Crazy ManOh.  *pause*  Does that mean you don't want to dance?

MeCorrect.

Crazy ManI was in the Navy for fourteen years!

MeYou already said that.

Crazy ManI was discharged because I got hurt.

MeHead injury?

Crazy Man:    No.  A plane was landing and I was guiding it in.  It came too close to me and the wing sliced open my stomach.

MeYou were hit by a moving airplane?

Crazy ManYep.

MeYeah, right.

Crazy Man:   I'm not lying.

MeDo you have a scar?

Crazy ManNo.

Me:  IF YOU WERE STABBED BY AN AIRPLANE, YOU'D HAVE A SCAR OR YOU'D BE DEAD. 

Crazy ManOh....*pause*   I didn't notice your wedding ring until just now.

Me:  You'll probably notice my husband's when he punches you in the face.

Crazy Man:   WOW!   Hmmm....So, ONCE I played the harmonica on stage during TWO Janis Joplin concerts.

Me:   DEAR.JESUS.PLEASE.MAKE.HIM.STOP.TALKING.

Crazy ManYeah!  And I gave Janis Joplin a ride to her next gig!  AND I gave her a dime--because she had like NO MONEY on her--so, I gave her a dime to make a phonecall!

Me:   Do you have evidence of this?

Crazy ManWhat do you mean?

MeDo you have a picture of you and Janis Joplin together?

Crazy ManNo.  But, I wish I did.

MeUh-huh.  *pause*   Elvis is my real dad.

Crazy ManHuh?

MeYou heard me.

Crazy Man:   I like you!

MeOf course you do.



And there you go, peeps.  I'm a forty-two year old woman who's still got it.  And by IT, I'm referring to the ability to attract chubby, older dudes who waddle, wear orange t-shirts covered in food stains, and make shit up.

Who says beauty fades?

Thursday, November 10, 2011

A Day In The Life

A True Story


Me.

Hubby.

Lunch at a local restaurant.

Man walks in.

Man orders takeout.

Sudden, lingering funk in the room.

Ponder the funk.

Dry heave.

Look to the right.

Determine the culprit.




Shit happens. 

To us. 

All the feckin time. 

The End.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Never Look A Gift Whore In The Mouth

Yesterday, I was showered with lame ass gifts by my friends, Linda and Lou.  If you're not familiar with Lou, click here to read all about the jackass him (my sincere apologies, in advance).

Last week, L and L went on vacation to Palm Springs.  I'm so sorry, people of California.  

AND everytime they go on vacation, they bring me CRAP presents.  I know.  I'm soooo lucky. 

Anywho, here's what I got this time....

Okay.  Not bad....except for the fact that it makes me crave chocolate. 
I give it a 7 out of 10 for its cutability factor.  Hmmmm...Cutability?
I think I just invented a word.  You're welcome, Oxford English Dictionary.



Hmmmm.....Would it surprise you to know that I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE these?
Seriously!  When I wear these, I can tell people to FUG
off without actually telling them to FUG off! 
HELLO, personal trainer?!  I'm talkin' to you!
I rate these a 10 out of 10!



Um.  Okay.  I love chocolate.  But, I'm not a fan of anything
that gives me explosive diarrhea AND fireass, simultaneously.
I give this a 2 out of 10...because, really?  Nobody likes
a raw bum bum.



And finally?  They gave me this cool metal fortune cookie for my desk....


Oh, wait!  There's actually a fortune inside! What does it say?!


Hmmmm...The suspense is killing me!  Let's open it together!  Ready? 


Um....yeah....

You're too little-too late, fortune cookie people. 

Thanks for nothing.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Like Flies On Poo Poo

Honestly, I really don't understand why weird /crazy/ nasty/ crabbyass people flock to me like hair on soap, but it happens to me ALL OF THE DAMN TIME

Last night, Hubs and I went grocery shopping because the ketchup bottle in our refrigerator was looking quite sad and lonely.  We walked up and down every aisle, we roamed the produce department, we carefully chose our whole grain bread, and after almost two hours, we finally made our way to the checkout line. 

When we got to the front of the store, we realized that there was only one register open besides the express one for people who had twelve items or less.  We quickly took our place in line and waited patiently.  About a minute after getting in the checkout line, an old man got in line behind us.  We noticed that he only had about twenty items in his carriage, so Hubs told him that he could go ahead of us.  He seemed grateful and said, "Thank you."  To which, my husband cheerily responded, "No problem!"

After we let him get in front of us, the old dude placed his groceries on the conveyor.  THEN, he turned around to look at me and asked, "What's becoming of the English language?"

"Excuse me?" I asked.

He continued, "Once upon a time, when a person said THANK YOU, the proper response was YOU'RE WELCOME!  It was NOT---NO PROBLEM!"

Dudes!  Can you even believe that shit?  The nerve of that ornery, little weasel!  My husband happily let him cut the line (because it was a nice thing to do) and in response, he was rude and downright patronizing!

I immediately stepped up. 

I looked him square in his cataract lenses and said, "What's becoming of the human race?!  ONCE UPON A TIME, when somebody did something nice for a person---like let them move to the front of a line---the proper, gracious response would be to express sincere gratitude to them...NOT TO INSULT THEM!"

He gave me a dirty look and turned around to face the front of the line, totally ignoring my response.

For the record,  I really wanted to respond, "HOW ABOUT, BITE ME?!  IS THAT A BETTER RESPONSE, YOU ORNERY LITTLE FUG?!" 

But, I didn't...

Because he was old...

And probably very lonely (no wonder)...

And EVEN I have boundaries....

(Shut up.)