What My Obit Should NOT Say

I know that when I die, there will need to be some ground rules due to my questionable behavior while I am still alive. For instance, my obituary canNOT contain any euphemisms such as "crossing to the other side" -- which could be misconstrued as DrunkenFelix and I getting too drunk when we have to sleep in the same bed at the coast" and "sleeping with the Angels" is out because that could make folks think that I am still alive, just screwing a baseball team.

Remember the Alamo?

Gawd! Wendy's was a freakshow today! As dead as things have been blogwise, It is refreshing to know that I can count on our local fast food establishments to provide me with suitable material. First, after taking forfreaking ever to get waited on, I swung by the condiments counter to procure napkins, ketchup, and straws to enance my dining experience.

I got seated, and heard commotion to the left. Never one to pass up an opportunity to miss a potentially blog-able moment (a PBM), I eavesdropped like the nosy bi+ch that I am. So. There sits a mom, grandma, little sister, and the absolutely most obese 7-8 year old child that I have ever seen outside of a Maury Povich episode. Miss Piggy has already devoured her entire kids meal (except for the obviously nutritious choice of the Frosty) and is reaching over and taking fries from Little Sister. I noticed this because, as I mentioned before, there was a commotion at their table -- namely that when Mom started asking Little Sister some trivia questions from the toy/prize from the kids meal, MissPiggy interrupted LittleSister with a mouthful of LittleSister's own fries.

Mom: What is the last letter of the alphabet?
LittleSister (sweetly starting to sing the alphabet so that she can figure out what comes last): A B C D...
Only to have the fat hand of MissPiggy clamped over her mouth so that the attention whore could blurt out the answer with her mouth full of food - this time it was the rest of Mom's burger.

Now usually when there is an ill-behaved child in public, MyPoolBoy and I will wager a prediction that when the child hits 3rd grade, he/she will be placed in my class - "you'll get that one" is what I get told. This time however, I told MyPoolBoy that HE would probably "get that one" -- in ISS!

When they started packing up to go, I thought that all my inspiration was gone - NOT SO! A big ole' pickup truck drives up with all kinds of NRA stickers on the back bumper. The mudflaps have a Texas flag in the shape of Texas on them. Not the shape of the STATE of Texas - the shape of the REPUBLIC of Texas! Out of the truck slides my jean-and-moccasin-wearing subject/victim. He HAD to be like Davy Crockett Jr. the 6th or something. And he proceeds to take about 20 white 5-gallon buckets from the bed of the truck and put them into the cab of the truck- I am assuming so no dayum Yankee would steal them from him. Not that anyone in their right mind would even try - cuz I am pretty sure there was a gun or eight in that truck.

Writing on the Wall

Forgot that I had taken this picture.... It was on the outside wall of the restaurant where we ate before my stepgrandmother's funeral.

Felix was speaking to me.....

Time Magazine Cover - DISGRACEFULLY INAPPROPRIATE

I try not to let politics or controversial stuff infiltrate my blog too much, but this touched a personal nerve with me and PI$$ED ME OFF!

There's dumb and then there's stupid.

Apparently Time magazine is both.

Click the link below to go to the cover - underneath is a poll to vote/rate the cover. I gave it a 1 because there is no choice for 0. Editor got on Fox and said they would not pull the cover and: "There needs to be an effort along the lines of preparing for World War Two to combat global warming and climate change."

http://www.time.com/time/covers/0,16641,20080428,00.html

EFF YOU! Are you freaking kidding me?

I'm pretty sure he's not willing to let the military deliver a telegram of bad news to him after a loved one stormed a beach to win this "war." I bet he is not going to let himself be deafened permanently by the sounds of mortar rounds to defend the honor of a tree. I am guessing that being shot in the leg so that he is plagued by pain with every step he takes for the rest of his life would not be the price he is willing to pay to make others recycle. Or if he would - he's flat-out complete bat-sh1t crazy anyway.

I now want to go drive around all day in my SUV hauling a trailer full of chopped down trees, spraying aerosol, using styrofoam cups to drink coffee, and bag only one item per plastic bag at the grocery store in the hopes that I burn a hole is HIS "footprint" area of the ozone layer.

You know what buddy? There's no ozone layer in hell -- why don't you go there and get used to the "warming."

Here's the letter I wrote to letters@time.com

Dear Sirs:

I was dismayed to see the irreverent use of a tree in place of the American flag on your April 28 cover.
My stomach turned upon viewing your cover, because my uncle (a marine who brought home shrapnel and lifelong nightmares from Iwo Jima) was buried in April of last year. It was a FLAG and not a TREE that was draped over his casket.

Ironically, his birthday is April 30 - 2 days after your cover is dated. Happy birthday, Uncle W.

Please realize that though your Photoshopping graphics designers may be removed from the WWII era because of their youth or ignorance, there are still men and families in America who were touched by that war.

I hope you save a few trees in your "war" by not wasting the paper required to print the copies of this issue.


The only recycling that cover inspires me to do is using the magazine as toilet paper.

Squirrel Shots and Buttery Nipples

Last night at least gave me something to blog about. And I am not referring to what we drank. Let's just start things off with a photo that Felix snapped on her camera phone.

1) That is a BRA.
2) In a TREE. (on upper branch, right in the middle under the skinnier limb)
3) It is NOT MINE.

Part I: The Squirrel Shot - A new waitress was working our table on the patio- overwhelming at the least if a herd of tired, inebriated teachers are at one of your tables when it is your first night on a new job. Especially overwhelming if the tired, inebriated teachers are Lucilles.

So. MsWaitress is completely not getting our orders straight, mostly because, it turns out, she has not written them all on our tickets. She sits down in the chair next to mine and spreads the tickets onto the table like tarot cards. Let's see - *the faeries say today that thou shouldst not be a waitress*.

Well Felix's high school friend (I really think I must start calling her PreFriend - she is a friend that Felix had previous to me) is sitting across the table. Felix is in the chair next to MsWaitress at the end of the table where the "reading" is taking place. As Felix patiently (patience is the skill that Felix has gained from being friends with me!) tries to help her sort out the tickets, PreFriend looks up and notices that MsWaitress is sitting in her chair in a most unladylike manner. To add to PreFriends viewing pleasure, MsWaitress has on a short skirt. And as if THAT weren't enough, MsWaitress was also not wearing any undies!!!!!!!!!!! PreFriend gets Felix's attention and gets her to look down at MsWaitress's lap - and Felix pretty much gags and laughs herself to death. Laughter that included snorting. Clueless, MsWaitress goes in to settle all the tickets and ring everyone (except us) out. She emerges moments later and informs us that they (the boss/manager/whatever???) have told her that she is done for the night. No way. I can't imagine. So she sits down and has a drink with us. WTH????

Part II: The Buttery Nipples - After MsWaitress left, some other regulars sit down at the table next to ours and have a birthday party for one of their friends. Felix and I are driving them crazy to open the gift that is so beautifully wrapped and displayed upon the table. We cajole them into shaking it, peeking under the wrapping paper, everything - until she finally opened it. And it was a stuffed purple monkey that had velcro hands so you could hang it onto stuff - and it had a button to push that made it scream and screech. It was highly anti-climatic because Felix owns about 4 of them - like a BaskinRobbins of screaming velcro monkeys.
Anyhoo, the subject of buttery nipples came up and BigBoy over at the birthday table hollers into the little window to the kitchen to the cook to bring him some butter. The cook comes out - BigBoy opens his shirt - and I would like to say that you can imagine what happened next - and it did, but uuuuuuugggggghhhhh! Full body shiver...

Truth About Cats & Dogs

Felix tried to convince me that her new puppy probably can't go with her to visit MrFelix & Scooter cuz the other dogs would be jealous if NewPuppy got to go somewhere and they didn't. "Dogs KNOW" she told me.

Yeah. Well, cats know, too. However, if we take Weasel anywhere the CATS are not upset at all. In fact they send us a thank you note.

Hand Fart Jukebox

This guy is amazing -

Select your favorite tune!

Bohemian Rhapsody - by Queen
Baby, What'd I Say - by Ray Charles
Money - by Pink Floyd
I Feel Good - by James Brown
Yakety Sax - by Boots Randolph
William Tell Overture
Take On Me - by A-Ha
Flight of the Bumblebee
You Shook Me All Night Long - by AC/DC
Spanish Flea - by Tijuana Brass
Feels So Good - by Chuck Mangione
Sweet Child Of Mine - by Guns N Roses
Helter Skelter - by The Beatles
The Final Countdown - by Europe
Baby One More Time - by Britney Spears
Crazy Train - by Ozzy Osbourne
For Once in My Life - by Stevie Wonder
I Second That Emotion - by Smokey Robinson
Gonna Fly Now (Theme from Rocky)
Don't Stop Believing - by Journey
Theme from James Bond 007
Sleepwalk - by Santo and Johnny
Walk This Way - by Aerosmith
Stayin' Alive - by The Bee Gees
Rockit - by Herbie Hancock
Axel F - by Harold Faltermeyer
Start Me Up - by The Rolling Stones

and of course .... Too Much Time on My Hands - by Styx

Alas...

I have exactly NOT MUCH to blog about lately. MyPoolBoy and I have been out a few times and I have been inebriated to the point of hilarity, yet I either cannot remember what was so funny the night before to blog about it, or upon retrieving my state of sobriety the next a.m., I find that it really wasn't that funny anyway. (Except one of Thunderduck's friends from high school told me that he couldn't call me mom when I was standing across from him looking hot - the poor child must've remembered it the next week, cuz at poker he did not say 2 words to me and wouldn't look me in the face - MyPoolBoy and I were laughing pretty bad at that one!)

Banned Camp has been a little slow this week (with the exception of the PrisonBoard postings - "if you can't spell conjugal visit, you can't have one" and the chick whose Boo sent her his underwear from Death Row.

I can't even find anything good on YouTube because I am at least a LITTLE bit selective in my entertainment choices, and I do not consider breakdancing videos to be worthy of my viewing - fishing through the VideosBeingWatched and FeaturedVideos isn't turning up anything good, even.

Except this:


Points to consider:
A) obviously in a trailer
B) pole not secured correctly (probably had duct tape involved)
C) wearing the required wife-beater uniform
D) can't tell if she flips them the bird at the end or has up 2 fingers (as if she is counting herself out)
E) not me