Don't Say I Never Gave You Anything

Have I got a deal for you!  From the Free Stuff Times website:

Free K-Y jelly at Walmart

4:24 pm -"Coupons" 

Print this $3/1 K-Y coupon(login or register and click the red circle). Many Walmart stores have the 2 oz. jelly for $2.62, making it better than free.

Brave the blue-vested greeters and fire up your Lexmark -- this deal is even better if you use the paper and ink from your printer at work, passing more savings on to you!

Kentucky Jelly!  Admittedly it is sh1tty on toast, or even with peanut butter.  Enjoy!

Last Minute VD Gift Idea

If you have not yet gotten a Valentine's gift for that someone special --- or if you do not yet have a "someone special,"  Craigslist comes to the rescue!  

Valentine's Sexy Spells & Love Voodoo kit - $10 

Valentine's - or any time -- You won't find this in the local store!!!! 

No shi+ you won't find this at the local store, unless your local store is Marie Laveau's Voodoo Emporium.  I went to Walmart last night and there were NO voodoo kits. 

There appear to be no voodoo dolls or pins in either of these.  Which is a bummer, cuz given the very nature of the "spell,"  that would be a riot.   

However - the "Sexy Spells" looks a little bit like a conversation hearts box, which I think would be a GREAT idea.  Just type the magic sensual, come-hither words onto the candy itself and distribute to your love interest to drop the hint.  If WTP wrote love spells on candy hearts you would get such doozies as: 

Guess what?  I shaved my legs! 

You'll do.  

The kids are outside.
I'm sooooooo drunk!   

The clinic called, and I'm clear "for now." 

Are you awake? 

(for men) My Viagra just kicked in.  

We'd better do this now because I'm supposed to start my period in 2 days.  

You've got 13 minutes before "Swamp People" comes on.
What the hell.  I need to burn off the 27 calories of conversation hearts that I ate earlier. 

Hallmark Never Thought of This

I spent the better part of my evening at the Valentine's Dance - which you need to understand that, at the elementary level, is more like a Valentine's Run-Around-Like-A-Howler-Monkey-Hopped-Up-On-Mountain-Dew.  One of my students brought me a cup of lemonade (bribe? peace offering? hemlock?)  which I oh-so-politely declined by saying "no, thank you."  Please note that I did not say "I know you don't wash your hands after recess,"  nor did I ask,  "How much vodka is in that?"

Anyway,  I went back to my room to collect my purse before my escape, I mean , departure.  There was a little project put up in the hall by some of the volunteers and kids that had polled some of the staff and asked them to tell their favorite Valentine's memories. 

I asked the Grand Marshal how come his favorite wasn't the time that me and Hyphen and CrocWhore shoepolished his truck and TP'd his house!

Say it with Charmin!

Pick a Winner

So.  Peyton Place ISD is having a contest to come up with a new district motto.  I'm gonna win.  The toughest part of the  competition will be which one of my mottos is the best. 
1. There is no "I" in TEAM, but there is an  "I" in PPISD.
2. We're like you, only prettier. 
3.  What's a-motto with you?
Perhaps we could have a Latin motto, like the fancy Ivy Leagues do - 
4. O-gay Ackmules-pay
5.  PP.  It doesn't stand for what you think. 
6.  (This one's from Duckit) Packmules - A few good students. 
7.   Nowhere to go but up. 
And my favorite... 
8.  At least we're not Bur***. 

In My Yahoo Spam

2 emails that caused me a moment of pause and reflection: 

1 - Meet Mature Singles in Your Area
Well, I don't know any mature people NOW, so why would I want to meet any at this stage in my life? 

2 - Never Shave Again!
Is that like..... permission?   H3ll yeah!

How to Tell You Are Too Old for Vegas

Top Ten Ways to Tell You Are Too Old for Vegas

10.  You have a stack of ones ready -- to tip valets and bellhops, not for strippers. 
9.  You say "no thanks" to the guy handing out strip-club flyers because you have PTSD - Petrifed and Terrified of Spouse Disorder.
8.  By the 2nd day you have ditched efforts to look stylish on the  Strip and have opted for comfortable shoes.
7.  The TSA airport id checker on the trip home double-takes because you look "tired" compared to your id photo.
6. You can afford the maximum insurance on your rental car.
5.  You are leaving your room for your morning coffee at the same time the folks in the next room are stumbling IN.
4.  You avoid certain areas of the casino because they are "too loud."
3.  You avoid other areas of the casino because they are too far from the restroom. 
2. You order cosmos because you know you need the cranberry juice. 

And the number 1 way to tell that you are too old for Vegas:.  You meet someone on the shuttle from the airport whose 25th birthday is the exact date of your 25th wedding anniverary!

What I Like Most about Vegas

...so far

UNLIMITED BACON AT THE BUFFET!

Bus-ted in Vegas

Hand to GAWD just got off the shuttle at the hotel withMyPoolBoy and. a girl whose 25th birthday is the.same day as our 25th anniversary.  We have invited her to crash the wedding.  We screeched and laughed all the way to the hotel!

I Got New Glasses

QueenB got me a set of glassware (ok, barware) for my birthday.  It is beyoooootiful classy retro with gold pinstriping around the pitcher and glasses.  It also has a long stirring spoon.  I cannot find anything like it on Google images or eBay to compare and confirm what exactly it is we've got here.  Basically the pitcher is shaped like a large brandy snifter with a lip for pouring.  The glasses are all little rounded cups - demitasse-sized.

Here's the thing -- she was told it was an antique martini set, yet the pitcher and glasses are not shaped like one would expect for such imbibements.   I have almost decided that the pitcher COULD be for sangria.  (But not as a pitcher.)

Also, I have deemed those little glasses as useless if such is a case.

You can't seriously expect me to keep refilling those tiny little f*ckers.....They must be for doing shots or are just coordinating votive candle holders.

Shoe-In

Was looking at shoes for the re-wedding on Craigslist this a.m. just in case I want to deviate from the original plan of wearing the acrylic hooker heels.  Found a gorgeous pair with beading and cute little strappy across the back.  BUT they are a half size too big.  MyPoolBoy said we should go ahead and get them if we are going over to TheBigCity anyway.  I tried to explain to him in the simplest of terms to make his testosterone-infused brain understand that you can walk inebriated down the aisle with Elvis in shoes that are too SMALL because you can kick them off later and be ok; you canNOT walk inebriated down the aisle with Elvis in shoes that are too BIG because you will turn your ankle and fall and break your neck. 

"Woo hoo!" he said, "Single in Vegas!"

Re-Do

So. 
MyPoolBoy and I are approaching the 25-year mark.  Felix and I had planned this whole thing out a few years ago  and I am happy to report that roughly 30% of it may actually make it to fruition.  Unfortunately, Felix will not be unable to go to Vegas and attend the wedding, and there are no Rick Springfield concerts for me to get the proposal or groom that we had planned, but ELVIS WILL BE INVOLVED. 

Some of the Lucilles think I need to have a Bi+chelorette party (not a typo -- I'm not a bachelorette). 

I'm going to have to locate a big ol' Barbie dress for the ceremony -- been scouring Craigslist and if I don't either A) lose enough weight to be a size 4 or B) gain enough weight to be a size 16, then I am S.O.L.  I attempted to achieve goal weight B today by consuming an entire sleeve of  newly-purchased Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies.  I don't think I can make it by the 2-week deadline. 

Therefore, MyPoolBoy and I are going to thrift stores this weekend to find THE DRESS.  Please don't text or call or email me and tell me I can borrow yours.  You are missing the point.  I need to go dress shopping and I need to find something that will go with my tiara, acrylic hooker heels, rhinestone cateye shades, and vodka.

YOU: Don't want cosmos and/or appletinis spilled all over your heirloom garment.
ME: Extremely capable of spilling cosmos and/or appletinis all over your heirloom garment.  

Anyway -- I thought it would be great fun to change my status on Facebook to "engaged" instead of "married" to MyPoolBoy until the re-wedding occurred, and FB said it had to confirm this status with MyPoolBoy. 

Silly Facebook!  Don't you know that after 25 years, I don't need his permission for ANYTHING?

Please Stab Me in the Eardrum

Who besides me cannot stand to hear the moronic and badly syncopated lyrics of the Truvia commercials as sung by that annoyingly nasally bi+ch?

Dear Truvia and/or Truvia's marketing agency representatives:

Quit bogarting the crackpipe.  That is the only explanation for how such inanity made it to the airwaves.  That and the chick who sings your jingles must be doing  somebody really important.

Sincerely,
WTP

P.S. Just cuz you b@stardized "Jingle Bells" does not make it a holiday song, either. 

Maybe the Truvia jingle is what the drag queens are singing "watermelon watermelon motherf*cker watermelon" to. 

Lost

My gps on this phone is off a little.  It says i am in a totally different town than where i actually am.  If i am not in the right location it could at least give me a heads-up that i might need to be prepared to be wandering around wiping myself with leaves.

Stick Together

The Prof posted a poem on his Facebook wall about these people who were trapped in some frigid frozen tundra and each one possessed a single stick of wood, and then verse by verse the poet outlines the message how none of them would share it to build a fire because of bigotry, selfishness, blah blah blah, and then they all just did nothing and hypothermia-ed themselves to death like morons.  I didn't want to spread my Ebenezerism all over his message of love and peace and shi+ so I decided I better leave my thoughts on my blog.  Here is my critique of the poem. 

1) Why would you go somewhere that cold with only a stick of wood?

2)  Where's the verse about the bi+ch who uses her stick to beat the others in order to gain control off all the sticks of wood?

Kissin' Tale

So my prolonged illness and general feeling of malaise has continued on into the month of December.

This week it has manifested itself in my sinuses as some sort of stuffy annoying throat-irritating incarnation.  I am still very run-down feeling and can't seem to shake one thing without catching the next great thing.  I even missed the faculty Christmas party.

Yes.  I was THAT sick. 
Here is what I chose to imbibe upon that evening:

Sad.

Now that I have less definitive  symptoms, the diagnoses have  become more difficult.  In fact, they have pretty much degenerated to flat-out speculation. 
Duckit asked me if it could be mono.

This became the dinner conversation at home last night. 
I announced Duckit's query and commented, "I don't know what mono would be like." 
MyPoolBoy blurted out a surprised, "What?"
I said, "I never had mono, so I really don't know what mono would be like.".
And he said, "I got that.  I just can't believe YOU got through high school without ever catching mono."

Old Lane's Eye

So Pepita posted a message about New Year's Eve on my Facebook wall.  Now.  While I appreciate her willingness to help with the plans, I am a bit apprehensive about turning the Larva loose on my last possible day of debauchery for the year. She suggested that we go to a nightclub and she would make arrangements for a hotel

 Bless. Her. Heart.

I know how this will go:
*Meet at hotel to check in.
*Change into a nice outfit for the evening and go to a quiet dinner.
*Proceed to a respectable club with reserved seating and toast with the champagne that was included in the ticket price.
*Return to hotel.

YAWN.

Here is how "seasoned" women like QueenB and I have New Years Eve:
*First of all - keep planning minimal.  Lack of planning allows "surprises" to occur that elicit strings of cursing from the men in our lives.  
*Leave 30 minutes later than we originally planned because I had to buy some 2-for-1 cheap champagne on sale at the liquor store and then stopped by a thrift store to acquire a slightly-sluttier-than-usual blouse for the evening, complete with rhinestones AND sequins.  Note to MyPoolBoy that Pepita would HATE this outfit and purchase it even if it won't fit in my suitcase with the 4 pairs of shoes and 2 pairs of jeans and 3 sweaters and miniskirt that I have already crammed in there for an overnight trip.
*Allow MyPoolBoy to chauffeur in excess of the speed limit in an attempt to make up time lost at the liquor store purchasing the champagne that I have elected to pour into an empty Sonic cup that was rolling around in the back floorboard and consume half the bottle en route to our destination.
*Arrive at the MOtel in a pelting freezing cold rain storm, making the miniskirt I have packed a ludicrous decision.
*Note the fortunate proximity of a KwikyMart catty-corner across the street from the MOtel.  This will be important for procuring overpriced beef jerky, Twizzlers, and aspirin later. 
*Make a mad dash through the rain into the MOtel lobby and dodge the plastic leaves of a dusty fake plant that commits bodily assault on all who pass through the front door.
*Acquire room key from Bette Davis's older blue-haired sister. 
*Drive to the backside of the MOtel where a crime is most likely to go undetected and enter the room with my luggage that is now soaking wet because it was in the bed of the truck when the pelting freezing cold rain storm began.
*Carry the open half-consumed bottle of champagne in with me.   Take a swig directly from the bottle as I stand at the door waiting for MyPoolBoy to get the key to work in the door.
*Inhale the aroma of Marlboros and mildew when we open the door.  Think about asking MyPoolBoy to carry me over the threshold like a second honeymoon and then decide against it because I will need him intact for dancing.
*Place luggage on the bed that appears most likely to test positive for body-fluid-illumination under a CSI blacklight. 
*While blow-drying clothes, answer cell phone call from QueenB saying that the toilet in their room just overflowed.
*Answer door when QueenB comes in to tell us that they are moving to another room and OldCoach went to change out keys with Bette Davis's older blue-haired sister.  Offer her some champagne in one of the hermetically sealed plastic MOtel cups. 
*Discover that there are no pantyhose in the rain-soaked overpacked luggage.  Debate with MyPoolBoy about buying an overpriced pair across the street at the KwikyMart or stopping at a store on the way to dinner in town.
*Get dressed (with the exception of pantyhose) and get in car to go to dinner.
*Ride in the car that is being driven aimlessly by OldCoach due to the aforementioned lack of planning by QueenB and me.  Discuss dinner plans as you pass each restaurant with exits on the other side of the road.
*Cause heart palpitations for the men in the vehicle by screaming STOP directly in front of a Walgreens so that you can get a pair of pantyhose.  Laugh hysterically at the purple leopard print bras on display at the end of a row.  Buy one, causing more hysterical laughter. Pay for items and leave Walgreen's before getting kicked out.
*Decide to eat at Applebee's since it is only one block down from Walgreen's.  Put pantyhose on in car, hiking up dress to slide the nylon over hips at a red light next to a truck full of teenage boys.
*Laugh at the idiots in the booth behind you who couldn't find a babysitter and  brought their KIDS with them to Applebee's on New Year's Eve and actually expected the little fu*k-trophies to sit patiently and wait for an hour for their chicken nuggets on what is one of the busiest nights of the year.
*Muse out loud how wonderful it is to have grown and near-grown kids that you can leave behind at home with $40 of Taco Bell money and the simple instructions to vacuum up all the stripper glitter and stay out of the good vodka.
*Go back to bar at the MOtel.
*Find table that you reserved in advance because you are classy.
*Send MyPoolBoy to procure 4 beers.  I don't know what everyone else is drinking.
*Notice, laugh, and point at the Dolly Parton wannabe at the next table.
*Notice, laugh, and point at Almost-Dolly's date, a scrawny redneck with a raccoon penis in his hatband.
*Notice, laugh, and point at yuppies who came in, surveyed the crowd, and left without even having a drink.
*Send OldCoach for more beer.
*Set the table reservation card on fire with the candle on the table.
*Put out your personal bonfire with beer when Almost-Dolly taps her pack of Virginia Slims against the palm of her hand and starts to lean toward your table for a light.
*Scream "I love this song!" in MyPoolBoy's ear.
*Ask MyPoolBoy to dance.
*Ask QueenB to dance because MyPoolBoy either doesn't want to dance, is pretending not to know me, is partially deafened by my screaming "I love this song!" in his ear, or a combination of all three.
 *Dance with QueenB.
*Dance some more with QueenB.
*Ask QueenB, while dancing, why we even brought the boys.
*Return to table.  Drink.  Go pee.  Dance.  Return to table.  Drink.  Go pee.  Dance.  Repeat this process an unknown number of times until someone says it's almost midnight.  Chase your Bud Light with champagne.Sing Auld Lang Syne with the words "Old Lane's Eye."Continue the above procedure until someone says the bar is closing.
*Stumble to the back side of MOtel where your room is located.  Crawl up the stairs to the MOTHER-EFFING SECOND FLOOR. Notice a tomato on the stairwell.  Stop to take a fuzzy, out-of-focus picture.  Decide that it might be a red Easter egg instead of a tomato.  Look at the picture on cell phone camera.  Ask QueenB if the picture is out of focus or are WE out of focus?

 

*Fall into a time-warp-vortex-black-hole of inebriation and emerge around 10 a.m. the next morning.  Meet OldCoach and QueenB for breakfast at Denny's.  Don't mention anything when QueenB fails to take her shades off inside Denny's.  High-five OldCoach for being able to order off the Senior Menu at a discount.  

*Sleep in the truck the whole way home  

Grandma Lila's Fruitcake

Merry Christmas! This fruitcake recipe is the one our Grandma Lila used for years. It is famous/infamous enough to be mentioned in the eulogy at her funeral service.  I have "embellished" it with my own observations and experiences.

1 lb. dates (I sometimes use less)
1 lb raisins (Again, sometimes I cut back on these)
1/2 lb candied citron (I usually use more)
1/2 to 1 cup brandy, rum, or other liquor (Grandma sometimes used more.)
1 cup/2 sticks REAL butter (none of that low fat healthy soy fake good-for-you crap -- Grandma was Paula Deen before Paula Deen was Paula Deen)
1 cup packed brown sugar
5 (4) eggs (the recipe calls for 4 - Use 4.  You need 5 because by the time you are done with the brandy or rum you will drop one of the eggs and you'll only have 4 left anyway.)
1 Tbs milk (this is what makes the fruitcake healthy)
2 cups flour
1/2 tsp baking soda (the stuff you use with vinegar to make volcanoes)
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp cloves
1/2 tsp ginger

Step 1 Procure the unmentionables. (The way Grandma did it) A good Christian woman will send a male relative to the liquor store to buy the brandy or rum while you sit and wait in the car in the parking lot, or better still, parked around the corner, so no one sees you buying it!

Step 2 Prepare the fruit.  Soak fruit in half of the liquor overnight.  This is to "plump it up."  No other reason.  Follow the recipe.  Don't judge.

Step 3 Get ready.  Preheat oven to 250 degrees. That is not a typo - you want these to bake slow so that they are moist on their own... but then we're fixin' to pour liquor all over them to moisten them, too, so - whatever.  (I do like to think that this is roughly the temperature of an Easy-Bake Oven, thus taking me back to my childhood, when unsafe burning hazard toys like light-bulb powered cooking appliances were perfectly acceptable gifts to give to small children!)  Grease and flour loaf pans or bundt pan. Or even a sawed off cleaned out Folger's can (The way Grandma did it.) Put on an apron now that you've spilled flour all over your black holiday sweater and stupidly wiped it trying to get it off, since you just weren't thinking clearly because you were "tasting" the soaked fruit.

Step 4 Make and bake.  Cream butter and sugar in a big ol' Mixmaster. Beat in eggs and milk. Sift flour, soda, and spices and stir into fruit. Add fruit to creamed mixture. Pour into prepared pans and decorate the tops with candied cherries and pecan halves. Then bake 2 1/2 to 3 1/2 hours depending on size of pans and/or cans. This is enough time to watch "It's a Wonderful Life" or "Miracle on 34th Street" AND "Wheel of Fortune."

Step 5 Liquid Decoration.  (Optional, but it IS the way Grandma made it): Splash what might be left of the rum or brandy over fruitcake after baking and wrap in foil for a few days before serving.  Store in a dark corner of the cupboard to aid in the "moistening" process.  Hide one of them for yourself. 

Step 6 Serve.  Ignore the comments about the fumes when the foil is opened.  The family members who are under 21 will eat it anyway because they can get inebriated and no one will bat an eye because it occurred under the guise of consuming fine holiday fare....the male family members over 21 will eat it anyway because it is the only way they are going to get any of that rum that they had to buy...the female family members over 21 will eat it because, let's face it, before the advent of Prozac, Grandma Lila's fruitcake was the only way you could manage to get through the holidays with even a shred of sanity intact!

Reduce, Reuse, Ridiculous

Aside from the fact that if I were unleashed on the world with a red Bic ballpoint pen I would inevitably correct grammar and spelling mistakes on everything in sight, I cannot be loose on society with my mouth unfiltered, either.  Someone has been trying to set up a recycling effort at school.  And unfortunately, someone doesn’t have the sense of humor of a 13-year-old boy like Felix and I.  We fell over laughing in the teacher’s lounge at these priceless proclamations:

It’s that time of the month!

Put your cans here.

The gardening club wants your jugs!

Really, people.  My freakin’ blog writes itself sometimes.

Getting Purse-onal

Odd, bizarre one-sided conversation I was just forced to have with DonnyCat:  WTF? Get out of my purse!  

I look across the room and see approximately 5 pounds of your 14.6 pound baby kitten body shoved into my purse.  Seriously what on earth possesses you to think that you have the right to step your front paws and that gigantic fat head with its trapezoid ear into my belongings and rifle through all my sh1t?  No, I don't need you to dump all the contents out and scatter them to the floor below.  Please don't bite a hole in my tube of lip balm.  Don't chew and slobber on the cough drops!  And, no, I did not put that maxi-pad covered in the bright crinkly-sounding wrapper in their as a surprise cat toy for your amusement.  Get. Out. 

Strep Tease

Been home with strep for 4 days with fever and aches which turned into a sore throat and then an earache and then when the fever finally broke I ended up with a gigantic fever blister on my lower lip.  So my smiley face emoticon should look something like this right now:  

:-)*

At least if it was on my upper lip I could color it with an eyebrow pencil and pretend that it was a mole like Marilyn Monroe or something. 

Went to the doctor who took one look in my throat and proclaimed that my right tonsil was "really big and angry."  

No sh1t.  It is pushing so hard against my right ear, I have lost 2 pounds because I cannot swallow anything that has not been pre-approved by a dentureless nursing home menu planner - mashed potatoes, scrambled eggs, cream of wheat, and pudding.  

The doctor went on to explain that actually, both of my tonsils are big and angry, but the right one........  and I finished this statement for him:

The right one has taken off her earrings and kicked her pumps across the room.