Beach. My Drug of Choice.

Been doing the beach thing for days now. I cannot begin to tell you how relaxed and happy I am right now.

Buddha's face in this picture doesn't nearly encompass what I feel. Needless to say, it must be pretty freaking great, no?




Had a pedicure moment the other day with my sister, Wine Girl. I cosmically connected with my pedi guy - I think I might take him home with me. See my big toe on my Barney Rubble foot? Yeah. That's a freckle. I love that freckle.

Kazoo Much?

Buddha was recently introduced to the kazoo as an instrument of torture.

I enrolled us both in the public library's summer reading program. My city has tons of extras linked with the program - crafts, read-alouds, storytellers, entertainers, lunchtime movies, etc. Before leaving for the beach, I took him to see a juggler.

This would be a good time to let everyone know that I dislike clowns, magic, and "entertainers." I just have neither the time nor the inclination to partake in their acts.

Buddha is another story. I would walk on hot, broken glass for him. The glass I embedded in my tootsies last week was a man who juggled for an hour inside the library. Buddha loved him. The guy used a kazoo in his act to add credence to the juggling of his "Chainsaw of Death!" AKA a plunger. Not kidding. He juggled a plunger. With sound effects thanks to a kazoo.

Two days later, I found myself purchasing the above metal kazoo at Cracker Barrel. The kid's been playing it ever since.

I'm taking one for the team on this one. I am. I took 573 for the team when I drove to the beach on Monday. Almost six hours straight of kazoo-playing mania. When I was stuck in traffic because of a car fire, I considered taking that almighty kazoo and crushing it under my Barney Rubble foot but held back.

Sugarland and Style Tips

Compliments of moi.
See Jennifer working the wig? Yeah. She was singing some serious "Loveshack." There is only one person who's ever seen and heard me do that particular ditty in karaoke. Why? I am VERY particular about who hears me belt out tunes. Yes, indeed. An old college friend who bestowed the nickname "Ringleader" upon me is the oh-so-lucky person. I was working the song on Friday night, though!

Work it! Own it!

And now, on to the style tips.

If you ever feel compelled to attend a concert in skin-tight jeans, a purple sequined, beaded bra, and a matching purple cowboy hat, just hasten to the internet, bring up this bloggy, and be schooled.

Unfortunately, I think this woman was too busy getting her angel wing tattoos to listen to such advice. I am certain that I am not the only wise one walking this earth, fer cripe's sake! (And take a gander at her boy toy. Hello? Mullet much?)

Adjusting the brassiere. Poor thing was likely chaffed by the end of the evening. This was apres concert. My girls and I were sitting there wondering how we were going to heave our asses out to the car when we saw her. Some kind people saw Boss Lady taking some shots and were kind enough to stop the swarms of people exiting the civic center so BL could get a few good shots without having to weave between the throng of people. Nice huh? See? People still DO have manners.

Poor thing. That's a smoker's cough if I ever did see one. She might want to lay off of the Marlboros for a while and allow her lungs to partake in some oxygen. She could always get that other angel wing completed and work on her eye make-up technique. No?

Sugarland

Went to see Sugarland in concert last night.

Oh.
My.
God.

You must understand that I am a seasoned concert-goer. When I was in my late teens and early 20's, it was nothing for me to see two major headliners a week. I spent oodles of cash on tickets and concert tshirts.

I've seen the likes of U2, Peter Gabriel, Kiss, Bon Jovi, Genesis, The Black Crows, Aerosmith, Judas Priest, The Police, Sting (yes, alone), and many more.

This concert was top-notch. I was able to spend time with some great friends - went out for a pre-concert dinner and drinks (I was designated driver.), road a bus from one of the downtown parking garages, took copious pics, blew bubbles and flashed glow sticks, saw a woman changing in the bathroom (Why not in the stall, lady? Your red bra was SCARY!), and laughed more than should be legal.

I couldn't have asked for a better time.
I stumbled home after 3am and love that I was able to have a great night out with the girls!

Everyone should have friends who hang together like this. Everyone.

Train This

I sat in an all-day training today that almost killed me.

My back is in spasms.
I'm crabby.
I learned nothing.
I worked with a group of people during the break-out sessions - the group grew larger as the day went on, and we ended up referring to ourselves as The Coven.
During one of the last activities, we drew parallels between the poem, "Richard Cory," the vampires in Twilight, and the song, "Richard Cory," by Simon and Garfunkel.

I kid you not. We do what we must to survive.

Fuck you, Mr. Postal Asshole

Hate the US Postal Service. Service my ASS, you idiots. I pay more and more for postage every 4-6 months, and I get absolutely nothing in return.

Unless you count the shithead who told me I was looking at million dollar lawsuit because my dog ALMOST bit him. Let me see the bite. C'mon. Lemme see it. There is no bite. My dog never went near him.

He was trying to intimidate me. Me? You've gotta be kidding me. That was 30 minutes ago. In that time frame, I told him to get off my property, filed an official complaint against the shithead, found out I can't get my mail from the place where he told me it's stored because I have to be a POSTAL OFFICE EMPLOYEE TO GO ON THE GROUNDS (thanks, fucktard. thanks bunches. really! asstard.), found out there IS NO ELUSIVE form he threatened me with THREE TIMES IN MY OWN FRONT YARD (this from the postal supervisor with whom I spoke when I went to the downtown office), and that he shouldn't have sent me to the place he did.

I told the supervisor Mr. Grouchfest must have been feeling impotent when he verbally threatened and attempted to intimidate me in my own front yard while my dog did nothing other than sit next to me and wag his tail. Oh yeah, Ranger's a REALLLL DANGER. Watch out, Mr. Million Dollar Threatening Lawsuit, my dog might LICK you. Lawsuit.

Don't threaten me with a lawsuit when things are completely unfounded. Nothing's happened other than your damn ego being hurt because you couldn't prompt my dog to bite you today. He called you on your bluff.

I hope each and every day you walk by my house, he RUNS THE FULL LENGTH OF MY LARGE YARD barking the entire time. I will NOT be locking my dog inside my house. I will not be putting him on some yard chain. He will have full run of the yard. It's your prerogative to NOT step onto my property because you fear for your safety, however, you may NOT ever speak to me the way you did this afternoon. I can only hope that I see you in public sometime soon. Asstard. I love publicly humiliating impotent fucks like you. I will now admit to having used the word "impotent" to describe the delivery techniques of this asshole when Buddha asked me for the 17th time why we hadn't gotten our mail. Yeah. I called the guy impotent. In front of two men. Who stopped dead in their tracks when on their way INTO the post office. I kept walking; didn't miss a step, baby.

I will now incur yet another cost so I can get a PO box. I will have to change my FUCKING ADDRESS WITH EVERY TOM, DICK, AND HARRY who sends me shit. Yes. I will. And I will not enjoy it.

However, I WILL GREATLY ENJOY watching Ranger run the perimeter of our property each and every day this summer when Mr. Postman comes a-calling on my neighbors' homes. I might tailor my schedule so I'm home when he delivers on my street. I might even take up drinking so I can slur my encouragement to Ranger as he runs.

Wanna know why he runs and barks? He wants people to come into the yard and play with him. He knows too well the sting of the underground fence. He gives that fence his complete respect and lots of clearance. He's no dummy, people.

After the way the guy spoke and the way he acted (he bucked at my dog. bucked at him. hello? are you from the ghetto? you buck at dogs? c'mon, fucker.), I hope Ranger's taken a distinct dislike to this idiot.

There have been a few strangers who've walked past my house since we got Ranger, and they've received the Star Treatment- BARKING. The likes of which would make you want to run to the other side of the street. I like it when he barks at people who shouldn't be walking on my property. Shove the fuck off and make it snappy, dammit.

I especially liked the asstard who raised hell barking out of Ranger - so badly that I WENT OUTSIDE to check on the situation. The guy didn't know anyone was home. He was walking on the sidewalk, teasing the hell out of my BIG DOG, bucking at him - not unlike Mr. Postal Fuck. Yes. For real.

I opened the door and nicely said, "Excuse me. You're safe. He can't get out of the yard." Fucker grinned, mumbled something, and bucked at my dog AGAIN.

I will readily admit that I lost my shit and yelled, "Hey! Don't damn tease my dog, you fool! Get off of my property before he tears into your rear end and don't EVER incite this kind of SHIT in my dog again."

Fucktard wisely stepped off.

Yes. I yelled like trailer trash. So be it. I lose my shit now and then. I think the ass who was on the receiving end deserved every bit of it.

Belated Pics From June 4

I took these shots of Buddha the morning of his birthday before I dragged him out of a deep sleep to go to hell daycare. He'd requested to sleep on the couch and in his "daytime clothes, mommmmmm!" The whole shirt on top of a shirt thing? He calls the button-up shirt his "jacket." Don't ask.

I could eat him with a spoon in these pics.

Sleeping peacefully...not thinking that I'm about to drag him out of a deep slumber.
Note: Barney Rubble feet. They're like bricks. Much like my own. That's just the way it is in my DNA chain, peeps.

I'm sure he was dreaming of Monster Jam and the Boomerang cartoon channel. What more is there in life?

Note: This is a big-ass couch. I bought it for several reasons - one of which is that I could recline on it with plenty of room to spare. It's covered in a KING SIZE sheet in this shot. Now, notice how much of the couch this newly 4-year old boy takes up. Sheesh. I'm going to put a Paypal button on this site. People can begin making donations in the name of the sneakers I'm going to have to buy each month because he grows so damn quickly.