AKA MJ RX

So the news is saying that Michael Jackson had 19 aliases for his prescriptions. Some idiot caller called in and said "but you need photo i.d. for prescriptions."

Seriously? Like h3ll MJ is going to Rite Aid for himself to get his drugs!

oh. My. Gawd. IT's. DIP!

So. MyPoolBoy has decided that I deserve a break and we are out of town and going to stay at a little bed & breakfast (it is SOOOO CUTE!) and spend the weekend antique shopping and getting a massage/facial tomorrow. Anyhoooooo, he took me to eat at a Mexican food place that Thunderduck just raved and raved about and swore was great.

So we're sitting there and out comes the chips and salsa and The Dip. We THINK The Dip was guacamole. All I can say is that this was the most Dr. Seuss-a$$ looking dip that I have ever been presented with. Bright. Mint. Green.

The following picture was taken with a camera phone in the low lighting of the restaurant and does not come anywhere close to re-creating the exact hue of what was set before me. Jack with your monitor settings for about 20 minutes and remove all the red hue from your screen. The result will be somewhat close to the 1950's travel trailer turquoise tint in the bowl. The lady's purse in the top left corner of the picture is closer to the real thing.


Oh wait! Let me also interject that the margaritas tasted like the Daquiri Ice sherbet at Baskin Robbins, so it really wasn't like I was drinking at all!

So, MyPoolBoy asks the poor little waiter guy what it is -- and PoorLittleWaiterGuy proceeds to recite the ingredients to us: avacodoes, sour cream, cilantro... and then -- because PoorLittleWaiterGuy failed to realize that when I ordered my margarita, I required a child's plate margarita so my mouth wouldn't go into high gear -- -- I then added (with a rather loud blurt) "...and EASTER EGG DYE!"

MyPoolBoy was a tad bit mortified.
I was laughing uncontrollably.
The usual.

Daddy's Little Girl

One of my friends said that her husband said that she is starting to look more like her father and she is not sure how to take it.

How I would take it would be that MyPoolBoy would not get laid for at least 22 business days.

Unless my dad was some really hot drag queen like Chandler's dad on "Friends."

Boob Sweat

wtf?

Well crap

5 things

I was desperate enough to drink my cheap-a$$ bottle of zinfandel that I put ICE CUBES in it to chill it.

I Lied

It's 4 things: I was gonna add my new teaching partner to my Facebook, but I can't remember her effing maiden name.

Sometimes inebriation is a bi+ch.

2 Things

No wait. 3 things.

1: Where do the random SHOES on the highways and byways of America come from? What kind of bender did you go on to leave ONE shoe in the middle of the road?

B: I told MyPoolBoy to drive by the house on our way home from the liquor store so that I could admire the new paint job. And he did - like at 68 miles an hour. I told him I would never be in a gang with him because he doesn't give you enough time to aim during a drive-by. So - MyPoolBoy / me --- not the same gang.

Finally: I totally think someone hypnotized MyPoolBoy's dayum cat..... Oh wait. No. Maybe he got on the counter and drank some wine.

Whoa.

I totally have never seen the words "liquor store" on my phone screen before.

Sage Advice

Dude. If you drive your car through the front wall of the liquor store they will definitely NOT sell you anything.

My New Favorite website

texts from last night

These rank right up there with Felix's voicemail: "call me back and tell me how the night ended"

It's Cryin' Time Again

Been watching the howler monkeys yesterday and today. TheDivaMonster went to the "crying corner" a LOT. I told MyPoolBoy the last time she went that I felt like I wanted to go with her and take a glass of wine with me!

8 MILES WIDE

Banned Camp video suggestion o' the day. My new favorite song.

Problem

How are we supposed to finish painting this house with only 3 cans of beer left?

Bus Leaves at Noon

So MyPoolBoy has been making smarta$$ comments because Pepita offered to buy me a ticket to see my next husband, Mr. Rick Springfield, in concert in Ft. Worth if I could just figure out how to get there. MyPoolBoy said he would buy me a bus ticket to go - "thank God and Greyhound," I would be Rick's problem then, and all that.

It will be the "Rick of Love" bus on VH1 -- watch me!

Tact from the Tacky

A quandary. You see, as hard as it still is for some of you to believe, I am a bit of a bi+ch. And this personality affliction only worsens when I am under the influence of anything fermented. So when the opportunity to rate pageant contestants presented itself, I did not decline - in fact I embraced it with an eerie psycho-esque zeal. And I am trying really hard to blog this with a bit of tact -- at least until the person I want to win actually has the tiara firmly on her head.

Anyhoo - I was drinking Sangria (yummy) and rating the pageant contestants and it is not beneath me to give everyone that I am NOT voting for 1 star and my favorite girl 5 stars. You know, cuz I'm trash. Not only did I do THAT, but I did it multiple times, using every email address I possess.

At first, I was telling myself that it was just a numbers game, nothing personal to the other girls. About halfway into the glass of Sangria, I began to justify my actions with actual REASONS why I felt the girls I gave 1's deserved those ratings.

For instance: one girl had an unfortunate thing going on with her hair - I immediately thought of a Banned Camper statement describing this type of hairdon't as "she must've gotten mad at her head" - 1 star. Little Miss ______ (I won't say the state) looked like she also has a future as Miss October - 1 star. I was taken aback by one chick with HUGE earrings that quite possibly been won for her out of a crane machine by her little brother. It is sweet that she felt she should honor her sibling's mad hand-eye-coordination skills by wearing his prize in her profile photo, but - 1 star, nonetheless. I also gave 1 star to the chicks who looked older than me in their profile photos.

That's it - I make myself feel better by knocking others. I will be the first to admit it's tacky, but it is a personality flaw that I am afraid is undoable at this point in my life. It's in the old dog/ new tricks clause of my WTP contract.

How to Have the Perfect Morning

Howler-Monkeyless.

Slept late.

Waffles.

Butter.

Syrup.

Whipped cream.

Strawberries.

In that order.

Flawless except that MyPoolBoy said my Mickey Mouse shirt is slutty.

Starbucks Racket

Crap! Starbucks is a noisy place -- I keep hearing the cappuccino machine or bean grinder or air compresser/chain saw combination or whatever the h3ll it is that is making all that racket. Plus the baristas screaming out everyone's order when it is done. Lynn, for cripes sake pick up your effing grande skinny vanilla latte already!

Then the guys next to me are talking about their "motorcycles" and HAND TO GAWD one of them just had to explain what a Goldwing was to the other one. Yeah, these guys are hard-core. I cower in fear.

Fear that MyPoolBoy is going to snap and go postal before I finish my coffee. This is not his kind of place AT ALL. He has the only truck in the parking lot and not a single other soul in the place is wearing boots.

Liar Liar Pants on Fire

Just overheard a guy sitting here at the bakery answer his phone and tell the office/work on the other end that he was at Home Depot picking "it" up right now.

I should go on a scavenger hunt for other 10 Commandments being broken today - I could give myself a prize if I spot all 10. Do any of y'all KNOW all of the 10 Commandments????

Where's my Bible? Oh yeah, it's with my hat.

Transcript of an Actual WTP - Felix Conversation

Felix (to WTP): Bi+ch.
WTP: Wh0re.
Felix: Barbie Bi+ch!
WTP: Koozie Wh0re!

How to Deter Carding

The bartender at one of the bars last night thought he'd be really cute and card all 13 of us obviously mature ladies. I honestly couldn't find my ID in my dayum purse (at the bottom in a little change purse). Here's what I DID find and proceed to lay out on the bar:
My tiara
Pink cell phone
Rubber chicken
Hair brush
Jesse's Girl stripper makeup
Vanilla Cream hand cream
Cougar Bingo card
Feathery fuzzy pink pen
Sally Hansen hot pink nail polish
sunscreen-on-a-clip
a maxi pad
my special lie detector (tape measure)
and the only forms of identification I was able to retrieve - my Bi+ch card and my Mensa card (why just be a bi+ch when you can be a smart bi+ch?)

I was the last person of our group that he carded. You think it was the maxi pad?

Big Game Hunt

We had a failed attempt to play Cougar Bingo last night. Perhaps it is a regional thing and the Arizona Cougars are different from the Texas Cougars. Perhaps it is because the places we frequent lend the atmosphere to attract Barflies more than Cougars. Perhaps it is because we were hopelessly drunk and busy dancing with each other. At any rate, it devolved into more of a scavenger hunt after we added some of our own "spaces."

Ear cuffs.
Wearing shirt as dress.
Banana clip in hair.
Dances by standing in one spot and finger-pointing.
Wears keys on arm.
National Geographic boobs.
Applies lipstick without removing cigarette from mouth.

At this point of the evening it starts becoming painfully obvious that our little list is about US.
Tramp stamp.
Hits on guys at convenience store around the corner.
Shaves armpits in car en route to the bar.
Rhinestones on clothing AND accessories.
Animal body parts / not cow leather (i.e., fur, feathers, shells, miscellaneous skin) below the waistline.
Duffel bag-sized purse - bonus points if Poise or Serenity pads fall out when reaching for wallet.
Sucking on unlit cigar.
Beat-up straw cowboy hat.
Captain's hat. Takes pictures of self and friends.
Wh0re-scavenging for koozies and doo-rags from random strangers on porch of the bar. ("cuz it's my birthday!")

Dream a Little Dream

Perhaps in the great cosmic retribution of dreamland, Felix had a stupid dream last night. Worse than my Hoff nightmare.

She dreamt that she parked her bicycle behind a store. Two Keebler elves were trying to steal said bicycle, and she caught them. She had to apprehend the wee ones by carrying them by the back of their collars on their shirts and turning them in to the proper authorities.

That's what she gets for kicking me last night.

Sleeping with Felix

Well I sorta survived the first day/night at the coast with the Lucilles. As usual I slept with Felix and about 5 or 6 am I was awakened by her KICKING THE FOOL out of me. At first, I was startled: was I snoring? am I rolling over on top of her and crushing her tiny little body?

But let me clarify - this was not just a "hey move over" kick. This was a series of rabbit kicks, like when you scratch a dog in the right spot behind its ear and its leg starts moving on its own out of control. It would have been hilarious if it hadn't have been before sunrise - and it hadn't woken me up just enough to cause me to have a weirda$$ dream when I rolled back over.

By weirda$$ I mean it had David Hasselhoff in it.

David Hasselhoff's kid went to our school for some reason. And David Hasselhoff's kid knocked over a grandfather clock that was standing in the middle of the open area by the library at school for some reason. So I was telling David Hasselhoff's kid that he was going to have to either pay $10 to replace the glass in the front that broke, or sit in after school detention for 2 days. Or he could pay $5 and sit in after school detention for 1 day.

David Hasselhoff was not happy.

He came up to school and was griping at me because he didn't think it was fair to make his kid pay for the glass because we shouldn't have had the grandfather clock in the middle of the open area anyway.

Then I woke up.
I don't know if it was the barbecue we ate or the shots we were drinking at midnight, but I'm scared to go to sleep now.

Yes, I fear the 'Hoff.

I Mistook It for Generosity

MyPoolBoy and I are having breakfast at the bakery and he has his usual artery congealing friedeggsbaconsausagehashbrownstoast and he sweetly offered me a piece of his bacon - and then said "next time it's gonna probably have arsenic on it or something."

They can trace arsenic. And he doesn't even have a plan for disposing of my body.

Amateur.

MyPoolBoy - the Cable Interview

MyPoolBoy was on the phone with the cable company because the on-demand movies weren't working. At first he was apparantly talking to a machine that was programmed to respond to voice commands... and it didn't understand Texas drawl.

Name: MyPoolBoy
Phone Number: XXX-XXX-XXXX
Zip Code: ZZZZZ
Cable Code Error: ####

Then there was the obvious "please hold for the next available service representative" - and then after listening to him state his name and phone number and repeat our zipcode twice I started ad-libbing the "rest" of the conversation for him:

My turn-offs are talking to machines and guys that ask too many questions.

I laughed. He didn't.
The usual.

Things I Love

Melon Smirnoff vodka in a medium cherry limeade from Sonic.

That's it.

I don't love anything else.

See What I Put Up With?

MyPoolBoy was in fine form last night as he threatened to make me "accidentally" die by spontaneous human combustion. Here's his plan: He will fart under the blankets and instead of the usual holding me under until I kick him unmercifully and he has to relent -- he has devised a plan by which he will make sure the methane is contained under the blankets, then light a match and throw it under -- WHOOOSH!

Soooooo....This morning we're sitting in the bakery (cuz summer school is OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and he notes that the place is empty. Duh. We're usually here on Saturday and its packed. ANYWAY.... after that observation I chimed in that he could run through the front tables naked and no one would care (unless, of course someone from the street saw him through the plate glass window). He proceeds to undo his fly on his pants. WTF? I told him that if he gets arrested for indecency I would NOT bail him out of jail because I am saving all my money for my trip to the coast and he would just have to wait until I got back.

I need a leash for him. And probably a rolled up newspaper.