My 13 Rules of Halloween

Well, here I sit out in my yard and I have decided that I need to set some melon vodka-induced ground rules for the freeloaders, I mean trick-or-treaters, that trespass, I mean come trick-or-treating, at my house:

1) If you are taller than Lurch, you get ONE piece of candy
2) If you have bigger boobs than I do, you get ONE piece of candy
3) If you are wearing a high school class ring, you get ONE piece of candy
4) If you are wearing a WEDDING ring, you get NO candy.
5) If you say anything smart-a$$ other than "trick-or-treat," I will not think you are clever or cute because I put up with that shi+ all week long, and you get ONE piece of candy
6) If you pick up and touch the decorations I have set out on my candy table, you get ONE piece of candy
7) If you reach into the candy bowl to help yourself, you get ONE piece of candy
8) If MyPoolBoy recognizes you from his after school detention duty at the high school, you get ONE piece of candy
9) If you shove and push your little brother or sister where I can witness it, you get ONE piece of candy
10) If you are old enough to create your own costume and you have not made even a remote attempt at wearing one, you get ONE piece of candy.
11) If I recognize you because you have dated one of my now-old-enough-to-vote-and-be-drafted sons, you get NO candy.
12) If you were on a sports team with one of my sons, you get NO candy.
13) If you are an obnoxiously loud precocious 6-year-old dressed as Wonder Woman loaded with what is obviously already more than enough sugar for the evening and you see fit to yell out at my orange lights that it's not Christmas yet, why are my lights out, and then proceed to argue with Lurch about whether Santa Claus brings candy or presents or both, you get ONE piece of candy and hopefully a lump of coal from Santa.

And a little kid just asked if the fake hand on the candy table was a real hand. I told him that it was the hand of the last kid that reached out and touched stuff on my table.

One in Four

Why is it that the feminine product commercials are getting stupider and stupider? At least it gives me something to blog about, so I guess I shouldn't complain. Of course I am going to have a smart-a$$ comment for anything remotely stupid that dares rear its head in my line of sight. There's this one on tv right now that proclaims one in four home pregnancy tests are misread. I actually like these odds. That means I misread ONE of my four positive results and the subsequent resulting births were, in fact, misread.... and I can send one of them back!!!!!!!!!!!!


And, I just overheard one of the boys that works with Lurch in the bakery make a comment in an unrelated conversation -- "that's the fun part of being a parent." Of course he has no children (he's in his 20's) -- Silly boy. There IS no fun part of being a parent.

Star Crossed Lovers

Today one of the worst spellers in the class sent a jaggedly cut-out notebook paper heart artfully decorated with garish stripes of bold Crayola marker and a semi-legible message of love and admiration enclosed inside. Complete with a shaky third-grade pseudo-cursive signature.

The object of her affection happens to be one of the worst readers in the class. And for all his might, he could not read it. Let's just say "Hooked on Phonics" was not working for him at the moment. He brought it to me, and before I had a chance to read it to him, another (and, I'm sure *well-meaning*) "friend" snatched it and began to read it out loud.

Now not only was the sendER red-faced, teary-eyed, blowing snot bubbles and hiding her head on her desk, but the sendEE was equally mortified and turned bright red, and felt as if he needed to apologize to the SpellingChampion for being unable to read her profession of adoration, which only set her off again, as more *well-meaning* "friends" gathered 'round to stick their noses into the midst of the daytime drama.

Geez. Now I guess I've gotta teach these little darlings to read and write or their romantic lives will be screwed up forever and I'll be watching their a$$es on Jerry Springer in 15 or 20 years.

Or should I selfishly let their paths continue, like ships that pass in the night, missing this opportunity for romance so that they don't grow up, get married and cross-breed their writing/reading talents into the generation of students that finally makes me throw in the towel and retire?

Way Better Than Cougar Bingo

Photo courtesy of Bi+chslap's husband's IPhone.

Now the idea for THIS game has promise! It's like Extreme Cougar Bingo or something. We simply must discover/create the rules of play.

Hands Down

MyPoolBoy has another round of poker going at a new place downtown. I am out early, as usual, and I am sitting here surveying the lay of the land. Looked over at the bar just now and noticed one of those bar-top video games... the tracing of someone's hand and a virtual knife trying to stab all around it for points. Craziest sh1t I hav seen tonight? Who PLAYS these games???? Who INVENTS these games? btw: the answer is not ME, those of you playing the home version of our game can shut up.

So. Poker continues. I got frustrated with one of MyPoolBoy's "friends" and I swear the testosterone was as thick as some of them's dayum heads. When they started counting each other's chips on the blinds I decided it was time to go away for awhile. Went all-in without counting my chips, then folded. I told B1tchslap that I was going to go concentrate really hard on all things female (flowers, Lisa Frank pens, episiotomies) to force myself to start my period just so we could get some estrogen flowing to counteract them slapping their pen1ses on the table.

I think that he's wearing a National Guard shirt. Perhaps he IS in the National Guard. I hope they ship him to somewhere sucky and boring where there is not any fighting or anything going on. Somewhere where he has to patrol a dried-up lake or some bullshi+ to protect a weird, endangered blood-sucking insect that feeds solely off of human flesh. And that he gets eaten alive by that same weird, endangered blood-sucking insect that feeds solely off of human flesh.

Am I bi+chy and bitter???

Bi+chy maybe. But not bitter.

Just female.

A First

Here's a new one -- even for me. Last night the waitress came over to our table and asked my tiara wearin' self if I had a ride home. I pointed at MyPoolBoy and told her that I was with him. She said, ok, good, because TABC had just been in and saw all of us and told them they wanted to make sure they weren't overserving anyone.

In other words, they thought I was drunk. Imagine that. Me. Drunk.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Grave Mistake

So. Seriously. I almost drove into a curb when I saw this. I simply must get a picture to post on here to prove that I absolutely, positively cannot make this sh1t up....

As I passed the local nursing home on the way home from work today, I noticed their Halloween decorations and couldn't miss the life-size huge-a$$ blow-up lawn ornaments they had on display - one of which was a HEARSE!!!!

What freakin' disgruntled-employee sicko got ahold of the corporate credit card and made THAT inappropriate purchase??????????????

Or an Aneurysm

Lurch pointed out during the Michael Bolton song that was playing on the radio at dinner that Ol' Mike sounds like he needs to settle down a little bit or he was gonna hurt himself. Or have an aneurysm.

I think it's just that he has taken to recording live from his very own bathroom because he is passing a kidney stone and that's how he hits the high notes.

BTW stone and notes are spelled with the same letters... I'm just sayin'......

I'm Speechless

Seriously. I have laryngitis. Felix thinks it is the funniest thing ever that something finally got me to shut up.

Wore a sign on my shirt all day that said "I can't talk." It totally cracked the kids up.

It wasn't this bad yesterday --- yesterday I had a smooth, deep, throaty Kathleen Turner sexy voice. I was thinking of becoming a jazz singer.

Today I sound like a helium-sucking cartoon character.

Fiction

Lurch and one of his little teeny bopper friends is sitting at the table next to us, and they are having a freakishly serious conversation about their DS's. TeenyBopper has just made the comment that she will get hers back in 3 months and she can't wait. WTF? This girl has already graduated high school, and she's a pretty good kid, so I can't imagine her being grounded from her DS. My 2-beer-limit-mental-capacity brain has therefore concocted its own story for what might be the reason for the separation from her beloved video console:

Her pimp has been taking more than his fair share of the cut of her earnings. She needs some quick cash as she is jonesing for a crack fix. The DS is at the pawn shop and she won't have enough money from her "dancing" job saved up until Christmas or so to get it back out.

MyPoolBoy says no. And now he's cutting me off and making me go home.