Gone to the Dogs

Here are the results of a Facebook quiz I took a little while ago. This explains a lot:

WTP completed the quiz "If You Were A Dog, What Dog Would You Be..." with the result Jack Russell.
You are extremely hyper and always running around. Your friends adore you, but at the same time, if they get too much of you they will become very irritated. . Take the quiz! about a minute ago · Comment · LikeUnlike · Take the quiz! · Create a Quiz.

My Comments: I am MOLLY! I am Felix's Killer Ear-Eating dog!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Waxing Poetic (or at least waxing my legs)

Apple martinis sometimes can be the catalyst for the BEST ideas! So. I have decided that I need to wax my legs, but I have never been one to go to salons for anything except an occasional pedicure and pretty much have always bought strips at Wally World and be my own beauty operator when it comes to depilatory services.

I was sitting here this afternoon thinking I MIGHT could use duct tape to achieve my goal (remember, y'all there is vodka involved here!) So I decided that I would log my progress, conclusions, and findings here for all of you to use for future reference (or for me to use for future reference in case I sober up and need to remember what the h3ll happened to my legs).

Trial #1

Preparatory Step 1.1: Mix apple martini using a formula of 2 parts appletini mix to 1 part vodka. Drink an entire glass to achieve desired buzz effect that provides my brain with enough lubricant to come up with a brilliant idea such as this. Kill enough brain cells to decrease my genius IQ down to average so that I can't tell myself that it is, in fact, NOT a brilliant idea.

Preparatory Step 1.2: Acquire duct tape. Not an easy feat, since it is used A LOT around here due to the fact that not only is WTP white trash, but almost every male in the kingdom is also genetically white trash by at least 50% on a Punnett square. Discover duct tape in Lurch's room - probably left over from prom (duct tape tuxedo). Hopefully has not been used in any major crimes that would necessitate its confiscation by law enforcement thereby making me a wrongfully accused suspect through fingerprinting process.

Preparatory Step 1.3: Insert outdoor speaker jack into headphone hole (what the h3ll do you call that little hole???) and blast Rick Springfield loud enough to sufficiently to cover any anticipated screams and/or expletives that would cause the neighbors to think that domestic violence was taking place.

Preparatory Step 1.4: Log in to blog (You are HERE .) and begin process of explaining my intentions for the experiment. Hyposthesis: Duct tape, long known to have a million and one household uses, will now be able to tout the existence of the million and twoth household use -- hair removal. (I KNOW that twoth is not a real word but it sounds so goshdarn funny!)

Preparatory Step 1.5: Refill martini glass. Dayum! Did I already finish one? Constant in this concoction is the 1 part vodka. Change the amount of appletini mix to a variable of 1 part instead of 2.

Procedural Step 1.1: (finally!) Tear off a strip of duct tape measuring approximately 8 inches in length - does anyone know what that converts to in centimeters for the European readers to grasp this concept?

Procedural Step 1.2: Apply strip of duct tape in the direction of hair growth (I should write directions for personal care products, shouldn't I?).

Procedural Step 1.3: Take a deep breath. No. Seriously. Take a really deep mutha-effing breath.

Procedural Step 1.4: Pull tape quickly in opposite direction of hair growth.

Data Findings 1: Nothing. Tape didn't really stick for shi+ and forget pulling any hair off.

Conclusion 1: I forgot that I put lotion on my legs this morning. Will need to wash said lotion from my skin and refill my martini glass before proceeding any further.

Trial #2

Procedural Step 2.1: Go back inside to make another apple martini using the previous measure of 1 part appletini mix to 1-ish parts vodka. Answer MyPoolBoy's question of what the h3ll am I doing. Ignore his eye roll. Use the excursion inside to also procure a wet washcloth to wipe the lotion from my legs. (Hey, at least I remember what I was going inside for in the first place!)

Procedural Step 2.2: Wipe down legs with washcloth, taking care to remove all traces of aforementioned lotion from my legs. Remark to the cat that this sumbi+ch is sure cold since I let it set while I was typing on my blog.

Procedural Step 2.3: Wait for moisture on my legs to dry since I still have enough of my mental faculties to realize that if the duct tape wouldn't stick to lotioned legs, it sure as shi+ won't stick to wet legs. Drink a little more appletini. Remark to no one in particular that I need a pedicure.

Procedural Step 2.4: Repeat Procedural Steps 1.1, 1.2, 1.3, and 1.4.

Procedural Step 2.5: Yell motherf*&#$er as quietly as you can.

Data Findings 2: Success! A noticeable amount of hair was ripped from the delicate follicles of my legs and retained on the adhesive side of the tape. Note that a relatively miniscule amount of epithelial cells were removed in the process. Run into the house and yell at MyPoolBoy to get the camera. (Photos may be posted later. Or they may not be posted later. Who knows?)

Conclusion: Duct tape does, in fact, have a million and TWO household uses. Consider using duct tape to do a bikini wax. Scold myself for being so inebriated that I would consider such a thing. Allow some of the other voices in my head to scold me for not being inebriated enough to give it a try (chicken! Shut up you sadist! Oh yeah- if I'm a sadist - that'll make you a masochist!)

Postliminary Summation: Decide to screw it and go back inside to get another appletini, leaving legs only partially hair-free.

Cleavage

MyPoolBoy just got caught trying to throw sticks, leaves, rocks, etc. down my shirt.

Evidently he is under the mistaken impression that God put breasts on me for target practice. I told him that I COULD start going bra-less and therefore cause him to lower his aim -- like about waist-high or so.

How to Howl for Cheap

The Lucilles had wanted to resurrect our traditional pilgrimage to Howl at the Moon in San Antonio after TAKS was over this year. Unfortunately, scheduling for a weekend that we can get hotel vacancies is a nightmare because about 1/2 of us have something conflicting on every date that we have picked thus far. So we were talking and came to the conclusion that tonight would be the only feasible time that we could swing it.

On such short notice, though, we cannot get a hotel room -- then we figured we could crash at TrailerTrash's parents house, who live north of town. Alas, this is quite a trek from Howl at the Moon and as difficult as it is to drunkly stumble a few blocks back to the hotel and successfully harass firemen at the firehouse on the corner, there is absolutely no way we could walk (stumble) to TrailerTrash's parents - even sober.

A cab ride would be expensive and would necessitate dipping into the beer money - so that idea was immediately out. What we needed was a designated driver. And there were no volunteers to stay sober -- surprise surprise surprise.

Then it came to me - we could have one of the pregnant staff members do the driving... they cannot drink and thus would be forced to be the designated driver for obvious medical reasons. Since neither of them are Lucilles (or even Ethels), it would be necessary for us to stoop to the all-time low of kidnapping one of them with some kind of makeshift weapon... probably random construction debris of some sort that still litters the playground at school. How to hold them hostage for the remainder of the evening is the only fly in the ointment. Because if they escaped and left us in the lurch we would have no one to drive us AND no one to scrape up bail money if necessary.

Dayum. Plan thwarted.

Tan Your Hide

Thunderduck is working for a collection agency (a real one - no knee-cap breaking shi+, disappointing I know). One of the places he has to do calls for is a tanning salon. He just informed me that the tanning booths are frying the girls brains.

Deuce retorted that its not much of a stretch for them to get naked and lay on their back for 20 minutes so what was he so upset about?
BWAHAHAHAHA!

Octomom

What a backhand that doc has!
Jimmy Kimmel Live - made me snort my Aquafina.

Jerk

So. MyPoolBoy emailed me and asked how I thought Jamaican jerk barbecued ribs with mango-cilantro relish and Zatarains Red Beans & Rice sounded for dinner.

Seriously? WTF?

I emailed him back and asked him if he was aware that kidnapping Emeril would be a felony.

He replied that he got the recipe from Bobby Flay's website.

I told him he was a liar. It had to be Paula Deen or some shi+ like that - Mango-cilantro relish is not a man-word.

I'm still going to get jerk barbecue ribs for dinner tonight, though! A man that is cute AND that can cook! I loves me some PoolBoy!

Holy Moly

It takes a special kind of bi+ch to get pi$$ed off at church. I, my friends, am just such a bi+ch.

To quote Gladys off of the Ellen Show - "I love Jesus, but I drink a little" -- so admittedly I am not a perfect Christian, but it is purely by choice.


Here's the scenario -- we go to a really small church (by small I mean that my family with all my kids and their wives/girlfriends/girlfriends' kids make up over half the congregation). The music minister guy is from California and a really nice guy in an irritating holy-roller sort of way. The past few weeks he and the pastor (who is from North Dakota - so he's a Yankee, but I think God lets that slide) have been asking if there were any particular songs we would like to be singing during the service. And they kept asking and they kept asking and they kept asking. So finally I relented (like a fool) and mentioned to the pastor that I grew up with a lot of the old southern small town Baptist hymns like Old Rugged Cross, Amazing Grace, etc. (you know, pretty much anything off of an Elvis gospel album) and told them I would like to have one of those to sing once in a while. Well last week - the music minister guy was out of town and the pastor chose some music for us to sing that were "old hymns" to him. After the service he pulled me aside and asked if any of the songs he sang were ones that I was familiar with - I honestly told him that I didn't know any of them... maybe it was a regional thing and that us Southern Baptists just had way different stand-bys when it came to church songs.

So last week during the week MyPoolBoy gets a phone call from the pastor, then one from the MusicMan - who told MyPoolBoy that his "eyes had been opened" after he talked to the pastor, then the pastor comes OVER on Friday night to talk to him about what exactly kind of music I liked. At this point I'm telling MyPoolBoy that they are like 2 old women and if they don't have anything better to do except worry about what songs to sing on Sunday to appease me I could tell them plenty of other REAL problems that I have that they could be praying for to take their mind off of the music controversy. I don't know what the two of them were saying to each other to get each other so worked up, but I really didn't care and they were making a gigantic deal out of something really nitpicky and stupid.

So today we go to church -- last day of spring break -- getting ready to wind down before we start the downhill slide for the rest of the year. And the music service started and smack in the middle of all the other songs was "In the Garden." I'm thinking - cool. That'll hold me for a couple of weeks, maybe everybody is finally getting it, and they'll leave me alone.

no.

not at all.

Because obviously MusicMan doesn't respect the dead and he was going to beat a dead horse right there in God's house.

Service goes on -- and at the end the pastor usually opens up for praise or discussion or testimony before we all go home. MusicMan starts to tell about blessings he's received from some people when he lived in California for his music ministry there, and then he launches into how he knows his ministry can bless people no matter what songs he chooses to sing and that people need to open their hearts to a more "normal" way of worship, don't worry about the King James version, "thys and thous don't make it holy" blah blah blah. (Never mind that the people who spoke with thys and thous were the very people that came and founded this whole crazy idea of freedom of worship in this country 400 years ago so that HE would have the right to sing whatever he wanted) It was like he was peeing on the music portion of the service so that his territory was clearly marked. Everyone knew who he was talking to - I DID defend myself a little, just commenting that some of the older hymns are almost poetic - like the Psalms - and there is a traditional, historical value to them. That was about the end of it, then they did the service dismissal and I left VERY quickly.

Thunderduck noted that I was out the door and sitting in the truck yelling at no one before my seat in the pew had even gotten cool.

Here is where it is a good thing that we are Baptists and there is not any communion wine anywhere near me during worship-time (considering that I am a major lightweight and even a sip of alcohol puts my mouth in gear) because I did NOT:

*Stand up on the pew and tell him to Eff off
*Bi+ch slap him
*Throw a hymnal at him and tell him to pick a song and shut up
*Light the wooden cross in the churchyard on fire in an attempt to scare his hippie a$$ back to California
*Draw a line through the middle of the sanctuary for North vs. South so the yankees could have the front half with the musical instruments and sound system and us southerners could claim the back half of the pews so we can sit in the last row like good Baptists
*Toilet paper his house - yet (I'm thinking I could write the lyrics to a lot of songs/hymns on the paper before I wrap his house and he could learn them as he cleans it all up)

Thunderduck's girlfriend said later at lunch (right after I asked the waitress if she could bring me vodka straight up in a Mason jar) that she couldn't believe that he would poke a stick at the beehive like that (meaning our family - since we ARE about half of the congregation) - and for SURE couldn't believe he was stupid enough to poke at the QUEEN BEE.

(Sidenote: I'm thinking of calling her Deuce - as in 2 - cuz her nickname is the same as MyPoolBoy's name and if she and Thunderduck get married there will be two of them with the same name).

Thunderduck said I am the alpha male of the family and we could pay him a visit later - in the Sopranos sort of way, not in the Welcome Wagon with the iconic Protestant casserole dish in hand sort of way... unless I was gonna knock him upside the head with said casserole dish.

Corningware - the southern Baptist lady's weapon of choice.

Just Dessert

people.

Did you know this absolutely perfect food of the gods existed? What rock have I been under? Why was I not informed sooner?

Philadelphia Ready To Eat Cheesecake Filling - Review of Philadelphia Ready To Eat Cheesecake Filling

And so in this review this WOMAN (I know, a WOMAN, knocking cheesecake - is she a commie? or worse, a yankee?) tries to deter me from eating it by proclaiming it to be a "saturated fat nightmare"
SOLD!
She goes on to add that without the crust there are xyz # of calories and grams of fat -- who gives a shi+ lady? There is no need for a crust to be involved at all - me, the cheesecake filling, and the spoon - I'm a purist.

Vroooom Vroooom

MyPoolBoy is looking at some motorcycle restoration website thing so he can figure out what he wants to do with his "investment" that is blocking my car from parking all the way into the driveway.

He just said: "hey, this guy has his parked in his living room"

And I said: "he is obviously not married -- or he is not married... anymore"

Catastrophe Part II

Too much vodka - I'm seeing stuff that I shouldn't.

My warped little brain just realized that catastrophe could also be spelled "cat a$$ trophy"

So... if you have a really nice cat a$$ you could win this little prize.

Cat-astrophe

Donster Monster (my Donny cat) has had quite a spring break. His sorry a$$ came dragging up this morning after a 3-day disappearance looking like a celebrity mugshot of Nick Nolte or Courtney Love. I hope whatever it was he was doing was as much fun as his current condition seems to suggest.

This is the type of Spring Break I aspire to have someday.

All I've really accomplished in the last 3 days is to spray paint all of my office supplies Krylon Ballet Pink. Do not - I repeat - do NOT let me near any of the following if vodka or tequila has passed my lips within a 3 hour time frame:

spray paint
rhinestones
sequins
feathers
hot glue
super glue
Gorilla glue
pink stuff

PS - I wanted to title this entry "My Poor Pussy" but MyPoolBoy thought it would be too controversial since the post titles come up on Facebook and Google and whatnot. Because, you know, all my friends think that I'm all chaste and pure and shi+.

BY THE WAY: Did you know that according to Google Analytics the 3rd most popular keyword used by people who have found my blog through a search is with the term "Hand Fart?" -- I'm pretty impressed.

My Life in Song

So here's this facebook quiz thing-y. You're supposed to choose your favorite band or artist and then answer all the questions with a song title from that band/artist.

This should prove to be redundant as h3ll.

Pick a band/artist:
Rick Springfield (try to contain your absolute shock, people)

1. Are you male or female:
Jessie's Girl

2. Describe yourself:
I Get Excited (or Jessie's Girl)

3. How do you feel about yourself:
Wasted

4. Describe your last serious relationship:
I've Done Everything for You (BWAHAHAHA! - not really, how about, oh, I dunno.... Jessie's Girl!)

5. Describe your current boy/girl situation:
Affair of the Heart (or Jessie's Girl!)

6. Describe your current location:
State of the Heart

7. Describe where you want to be:
Perfect (or Jessie's Girl)

8. Your best friend is:
Everybody's Girl (HAHAHA - Felix!!!!!)
Jessie's Girl (MyPoolBoy)

9. Your favorite color is:
Hey Pinky (ok, technically this was from way back when he was in Zoot)

10. You know that:
You better Love Somebody

11. What’s the weather like:
It's Always Something

12. If your life was a television show what would it be called?
One Passenger or Jessie's Girl

so... let's recap with a visual aid:

You Had Me at Sequins and Beads

MyPoolBoy is reading out the garage sale ads to me as we plan the rest of our Saturday morning. He just announced that he found the perfect one to go to -- fabric, sewing notions, SEQUINS AND BEADS, household items...blah blah blah .... something something.... he lost me after that -- must go buy shiny things....

I told him he had me at sequins and beads!

Let Them Eat Cake

Sitting at the bakery for my Saturday morning coffee with MyPoolBoy and there is a group of wedding cake tasters at the table near us. The mother of the groom, mother of the bride, maid of honor, bride and groom. Lots of discussion and input from everyone... except the groom. They're throwing around phrases like guest servings, fondant, fuschia... he's completely confused.

So he's reading the paper. BWAHAHAHAHAHA! They got him up at 8:30 on a Saturday to come downtown and read the paper! Poor guy.

Bless his heart. You should have seen his little face light up when they brought out the groom's cake samples. They "let" him take the first taste!

Friday the 13th

Funny but sad.

So. I was on the bus today on the way to our field trip today and I commented to the kids that it was Friday the 13th.

Then I looked up and I saw that I was sitting in seat #13 on the bus.

THEN I realized that the kid in the seat next to me was named Damian.

I know.

*** insert creepyspookyscary Toccata and Fugue music here***

So I added these observations to my comments to the kids. And Damian says"Oh wow! The 13th!" And I said I KNOW... and I'm thinking - hey, he gets it!

... and he goes "Yea! My mom gets her foodstamps today!"

no. he doesn't get it. he doesn't get it at all.

A bit later I came to the conclusion that if I ever go to prison, I need LittleBushDeer (BagLady) and Felix's students to come with me to smuggle stuff. On the bus to the field trip I confiscated:
*a fist-sized rock with purple crystals growing all over the top
*the metal buckle off of a seat belt
*something else... not near as impressive as the rock or the buckle so it has slipped my mind

I also facilitated the disposal of a packet of mustard that had been launched through some means of propulsion (plastic spork catapult, I think)

LittleBush Deer had this collection-o-crap in her purse to haul around the whole time we were gone -- but I'm thinking these little sneaks will make great prison shiv mules.

One bright side-note: I cleaned dog-sh1t off of not one single kid on this field trip. yeah. That's how I measure my success in educating students.

oh.... it's feathers

So I'm continuing my neverending quest for a flamingo tiara and I run a pink tiara search thread for grins... and I get this:







(orientaltrading.com)

And I'm thinking My Gawd! Sweet 16 and pub1c hair along the bottom edge wtf?

But then I clicked and looked and it was purple feathers.

ANYWAY - MyPoolBoy and I went out to eat tonight for his birthday and this poor little waitress tells us it's her first week she is waiting on us and one other table - the one behind us. In comes this flake who orders a Caesar salad with no dressing except Ranch on the side. yes. A Caesar salad with no dressing except Ranch on the side.

As long as I live in Mullet County I will never be at a loss of people to laugh at.

It's Like Camp....

So. I am reading my Texas Assessment of Knowledge and Skills General Test Administrator's Manual and I have decided that it can be included on the list of things that are Freakin Hilarious after an 18 pack (or in my case, 3 glasses of wine from my adult Capri Sun box). Our TAKS-stress release/celebrations need to be scheduled BEFORE TAKS next year because we could sit and drink and read this sumbi+ch the weekend before TAKS and have a grand ol' time!

I, of course, felt obliged to text the rest of my grade level and share this important revelation.

First of all, it is arranged into sections labeled Activity 1, Activity 2, etc. and at first I was all - oh, like centers or stations in class - but then I decided NO it was more like camp activities and our "campus testing coordinators" are supposed to be like the counselors or something. So I am at page 70something and am about to go to the Appendices section. And I'm thinking ok, this is the part of camp where you sneak off behind the mess hall in the woods with that really cute guy you met during Activities time and make out. (MyPoolBoy is on red-alert)

Then I drunk-dialed my stepmother who teaches sped and started reading some stuff to her and DYING laughing about how the #2 pencils would be issued to us by the camp counselors (testing coordinators)... I was all: so, is this so we won't give them a pencil with the multiplication charts on them or something or does the pencil we are being issued have special lead that has been shi+ by lord god king Rick Perry himself? Also, we decided that NO toilet paper can be used during the breaks (which, by the way are NOT mandatory so if we feel like not letting the kids go to the bathroom at any point during the testing day, we have that discretion left to our own sick twisted sense of humor, ooops, I mean judgment). The reason for the no t.p? It could be considered SCRATCH PAPER which is NOT allowed. Also, females administering the TAKS test probably should be issued duct tape to tape down our breasts because if you are an A cup that could be construed as answer choice A for some of the questions. If you are a B cup you are giving away all the answer B choices, etc. We don't know what they would do for the male teachers. HOWEVER, we could all stuff our bras with the unusable toilet paper so that we will be the same size across the state.

Anyway, she tells me how they have this kid who is considered ED (emotionally disturbed) because he whips it out at inappropriate times (read: constantly). So then MyPoolBoy says: he can't do that because it would be considered a measurement device that is not standardized like the state-issued mathematics chart. BUT! If you classify it as a MANIPULATIVE (since it is something that he uses regularly in class) then it will be an allowable accommodation!

Oh, and the manual says that we may not instruct the students to speed up or slow down while they are taking the test but it says absolutely nothing about KICKING them to make them speed up or slow down.

Alright - I made it to the Appendices section. I'm gonna finish this and go to bed.

Edited to add: I was gonna email this post to the Lucilles but that dayum squiggly word captcha thing came up and do you know how absolutley CRUEL it is to do that to a drunk person?

Get the Restraining Order, Rick!

I just took the "name that Rick Springfield song" quiz on Facebook.


I made 100% in 20 seconds.