Let's Have a Kiki

I am obsessed with the Scissor Sister's song, Let's Have a Kiki. Obsessed!

*warning - graphic images and language (it's not that bad, but you gotta protect those that need protecting.)

I cannot stop listening to it.

Of course I was a bit confused regarding the meaning of Kiki. Originally I thought party. Then I came to realize it is a word, similar to our much beloved F-word, that can mean anything - driven by the person saying Kiki. Whatever makes you happy. Be it a party, sexy-time, a boy, a girl, a cocktail. If it makes you happy, it's a Kiki.

Necessary or unnecessary background for weekend story.

I went to Rice Lake to visit my friends that have a home on the lake. Peaceful, lovely, warm and calm in the summer and crisp and frozen in the winter. A small small town, but always fun when I go see my oldest and dearest friend, Deb-oh-rah.

When I go to Rice Lake we go auctioning, antiquing, junking. More fun than I deserve.

On this evening we take the pontoon to town to have dinner and a few cocktails.

After dinner we decide to go to the Lions and use Mikey's secret card (not so secret - I just wanted to say that) to gain entrance, and have a delicious cocktail overlooking the lake.

A large group come in. A group that has been having fun all day. Their energy is good! Laughing, story-telling, hitting-each-other-on-the-back fun.

One woman raises her glass and adds onto a story that we have missed the beginning of . . .

"Ladies - how many of you have had to get up in the middle of the night to pee because, in your past, you pushed babies out of your vagina?"

Rowdy laughter!

I mutter under my breath, "Not me, I do my kegels religiously."

Several woman are adding to her inquiry. Much talk about big-headed babies and the mystery of women.

I stand, swept up in the camaraderie of the moment, raise my glass of whiskey and diet, and declare, "Bow to the power of the vagina!"

Dead, cold silence. Picture about two dozen heads swung my way.

I sit and giggle a little. Mikey busts out laughing, Deb laughs a bit nervously.

I take a sip of my cocktail. The bar recovers.

Blurting just may be my Kiki!

Do You Ever . . .

Ironic shot of not-cute feet. Yes, I am fixing that polish this morning.
And yes, that is a huge bruise on my toe. Don't ask.

Do you ever . . .

not look something up in Google just because you WANT to keep your preconceived notions about your misinformation? (sheepish)

get up, start with your day, doing this and trying that, and realize at noon that you are not dressed and still running around with bed hair and remnants of mascara under your eyes?

take scoops of peanut butter right out of the jar with a spoon?

wonder aloud how people can resist you? (this one makes me laugh because, well . . . , because I'm damn funny)

move piles of crap on your desk to this place and that place until, finally, you have missed any window of completion/opportunity that may have been open?

touch the screen of your laptop then get mad because it isn't responding like your iPad would? (I'm innocent/I'm not innocent)

think your feet are the cutest things you've ever seen?

eat liver pate for supper?

email so much from your phone that your thumbs hurt?

wonder what happened to that English teacher that made that huge difference in your life?

loved a friend even though they are the hottest mess you've ever known?

ignore turn signals when someone is trying to change lanes? (I personally believe that a turn signal is a demand, not a request - move your arse! Be assertive! I am convinced I will fry in hell)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Have you voted for the name of my camper yet? Please Vote! Otherwise I'll have to name it Kiki just because no one has picked that one yet and I feel sorry for it.

Have a beautiful weekend hooches! I'm off to the land of no consequences and no pretensions. Not to mention, no worries. I'll write from jail.

If I Knew How to Get There . . .

. . . I wouldn't have to ask.

Another one of my phrases I may have heard somewhere, but I don't know where; so I claim it as my own. Yes, it's mine. I gave birth to it. I pushed that out. I need a push-present. A push-present for writing! Brilliant!

The phrase means a lot to me. I believe in lifelong learning. Without it I'd still be thinking that mall-bangs are a good idea. They were never a good idea!

So, along with all the nutritional and health research I do, I've stumbled on a new idea for my chronic insomnia. Seems there is a link with liver problems and insomnia. Una qué sorpresa enorme!

When I was seven years-old I contracted hepatitis.  My memory of the whole event is being told I got sick because I didn't wash my hands thoroughly enough after peeing. I was a weird little kid and nearly washed off my skin thereafter. And having hepatitis compromised my liver a little bit.

When I was 18 years-old I caught mononucleosis. Romantically called "the kissing disease." I was an incredibly healthy young woman and kicked it in about three weeks. I do remember the doctors being a bit surprised. But again, my liver was mentioned as having a few "down" spots. I never really paid much attention.

So I'm doing some reading the other day and, just as a BTW moment in the book, it is thrown out there that liver issues cause insomnia.

Holy Hannah.

I started jumping for joy; which is a bit over-reactive, but insomnia will do that to people! Ha!

I'm beginning a quest to detoxify my liver. I have a bad feeling pinot noir won't be involved. Sad!

Here is the list of things to try so far. The first thing is my diet may be too acidic.

• juice wheat grass (this one makes me want to poke out my eyes with hot sticks)
• green juices (what the hell are these?)
• tissue acidity equals toxicity
• alkaline water in glass bottles
• exercise

I'll report back!

Reason #481 . . .

why I'm surprised men even live with women . . .

Me - blah blibbity blah blah . . . wah wah wah . . . drone drone drone . . .

Pup - in and out of earshot . . . in room and then back out of room . . .

Me - laughing . . .

Pup - back in room with me; laughing

Pup - You know, I left the office, went into the utility room, came back, and you were still talking.

Me - blank stare

Me - laughter

Me - Yeah, but you'd be so sad if I didn't live here and drive you insane every day.

Pup - Maybe . . .


Then I told him to get the hell out and go to work.

He left.

I'm still laughing.

What Fresh Hell Is This?

I don't remember exactly when I fell in love with Dorothy Parker.

It could have been when I was in high school and obsessed with everything to do with The Marx Brothers. I don't know what that was about, but I would ride city buses to unknown and shady parts of town to just see a random showing of one of their movies.

While in that obsession I read everything I could get my hands on regarding The Marx Brothers. Harpo being my favorite. During all those readings I found out about The Algonquin Round Table. And with that, my discovery of Dorothy Parker.

For years I used her What fresh hell is this? as my tagline on the many forums I frequented. It made me smile every time I saw it scripted out below my name. It makes me smile still.

Here are a few of my favorite quotes of hers. I'm going to kick back and enjoy each one like a caramel that I savor very very slowly.

Don't look at me in that tone of voice.

I like to have a martini,
Two at the very most.
After three I'm under the table,
after four I'm under my host.

What fresh hell is this?

Tell him I was too fucking busy - or vice versa.

I hate writing, I love having written.

There's a hell of a distance between wise-cracking and wit. Wit has truth in it; wise-cracking is simply calisthenics with words.

It serves me right for putting all my eggs in one bastard.

Brevity is the soul of lingerie.

A hangover is the wrath of grapes.

She runs the gamut of emotions from A to B.

Writing is the art of applying the ass to the seat.

It's a small apartment, I've barely enough room to lay my hat and a few friends.

This wasn't just plain terrible, this was fancy terrible. This was terrible with raisins in it.

If you're going to write, don't pretend to write down. It's going to be the best you can do, and it's the fact that it's the best you can do that kills you.

Sorrow is tranquility remembered in emotion.

~Dorothy Parker

I'm Your Captain

Pup and I bought a camper.

A 1988 Born Free President. I have no idea what it is or what it was, but I do know we have a bit of a learning curve with this lovely girl.

We bought her from a great guy, Bubba. I call him that only because his real name is Darryl and he is a bit of a Bubba. The nicest Bubba ever, but a Bubba. He was selling her because he had broken up with his girlfriend and I could see the hurt in his eyes still. He had kind eyes. And he was handsome for a Bubba.

Pup thought me a little crazy, but I could tell Bubba's heart was a bit shattered.

Not so broken though that he didn't take our check for his camper and buy himself a lovely Corvette. Good for you Bubba! Get on that horse and ride!

We bought her just a couple of weeks ago and there she sat in our driveway waiting for us to love her. I was out of town quite a bit and let's just say that Pup wasn't entirely chomping on any bit to get to know her. She scared him I think! She is a bit intimidating with all of her valves, petcocks (wth??), buttons, indicator lights, tanks, chemicals, gas intakes, blah bibbity blah blah.

So she sat.

We needed to use her to go to an anniversary party about 100 miles away and since we were leaving Saturday morning, naturally, we began looking her over on Friday night.

I'm inside cleaning (Bubba actually left her pretty clean. I didn't find anything to make me gasp anyway.) and Pup is outside checking things out.

"Come see this." he says.

Oh oh.

Water is pouring out of the water tank he is trying to fill.

Cut to confused looks on our faces.

We fumble around for a few minutes trying to find reasons for the leak. I say, "Let's call Bubba."

I can tell Pup is not wild about this idea, but he calls.

Bubba is very nice and Pup takes the phone outside and follows instructions from Bubba to turn this and crank that and look at the other.

Saturday morning we go out to the camper to discover the water tank is totally empty.

Oh dear and poopy shitty.

"Let's call Bubba again," I say.

Pup has a "hell no" face on, but does mention that we will be practically driving by Bubba's house on our way out of town.

So I call Bubba.

"Hi Bubba! This is Deborah - you remember? Your new best friend?" Nervous laughter from me. Bubba says, "Of course!"

"Bubba, Pup and I are heading out of town this morning and we were wondering if we could stop at your house for a minute so you could take a look at this leak we can't seem to stop. Are you busy right now?"

This nice man says, "Sure! Come on over."

Pup says, "He is calling us dorks right now you know."

I say, "I don't care as long as he is willing to help. Frankly, I'd be calling us a few choice names myself."

We look at each other and bust out laughing, because truth be told? We are dorks. Who waits until they are leaving to check shit out?

Bubba was amazed at that as well. In fact he turned to me with his kind eyes and said, "I'm shocked you guys didn't go over all of this stuff." I just shrugged and said, "That would have made sense though! And didn't you really want to show us your hot Corvette anyway?"

Bubba had to laugh and yes, I oooohed and aaaaahed at his hot car.

I'm a little in love with Bubba right now and am writing the end of his story in my head. The story where he meets a lovely Bubbett and they drive off into the sunset in his hot Corvette.

Meanwhile, Pup and I drove off in our leak-free camper laughing and once again I am so happy to have met someone so nice, honest, and helpful in my life.

I am brainstorming names for our lovely little camper. Anyone have any ideas? I'm calling her The Guest House right now, but Pup isn't in love with that one.

Owl's Right with the World

Oh yeah. This is what you might think it is! I look like a total dork and I'm certain I scared Pup when he came to bed, but I tried this out last night and slept nearly eight hours.

I'm convinced eight hours to you sleep-gifted types is no big deal, but for me it was nirvana. I am not over-speaking!

And it's an owl! (thank you my Reechie).

Have a great weekend everyone. Pup and I are (kinda) going camping!

Smooches

Quote

Make voyages; attempt them.; there's nothing else. 
~Tennessee Williams from Camino Real

One Sharp Cookie

We are all in agreement yes? Best cookie ever?

My horoscope for today says I am one sharp cookie.

I laughed right out loud. Not because I disagree - I am a sharp cookie - but because what the hell is a sharp cookie? I'm certain it's better than a dull cookie, or a crooked cookie, or a dumb ass. Yeah, I'd much rather be called a sharp cookie than a dumb ass. Even though I've had dumb ass moments. But I might be drifting off from my point. I am not only a point misser, but a point drifter. Ha!

I just amused myself like you wouldn't believe.

But back to the sharp cookie.

I could google it, but I don't want to. I want to revel in the weirdness of that phrase.

Metaphors. Those things we repeat and might not even understand why we say them.

Is this one a metaphor? I couldn't have cared less.

Mostly I see this written wrongly. I see I could have cared less. Which really messes you up because then you're thinking, "What? Do you care or don't you?" It's not so bad if there is room for caring less.

Again - I'm drifting off point.

How about:

• apple of my eye - what the hell? This one kinda scares me when I think too long about it.
• half baked
• love is a battlefield - Oh Pat Benetar - you had me at We Belong.
• the point being
• grilling the witness - everything really does taste better on the grill yes?
• you're really in a pickle
• food for thought
• music to my ears
• recipe for disaster
• my blood is boiling
• keep your eyes peeled

What are your favorite metaphors? Do you say things and not realize how weird they sound (I see the irony! Ha!)

Meanwhile, I'm having my morning coffee and feel the need to search around for a cookie. Sharp or not.

Fathers and Sons

The past week since Sunday I've been in Rochester, Minnesota with Barnabee (dad and step-momma) having my Momma Bee looked over at the Mayo Clinic.

This is mostly what I did. Lots of sitting around. I only brought flip-flops!
Nice dress yes? Thank you, The Turnstyle!

It was a long week with Barnabee and I staying in a hotel that, while economically attractive, wasn't the very best of the very best. It wasn't horrible, but I did observe a pair of panties lying in the hall for a couple of days. And there was the long afternoon a Spanish-speaking woman had an argument on the phone in the hall. I practiced my Spanish along with her. That girl could use some words! Ha! El jurar es bueno para el alma.

That aside, and truthfully that wasn't the important part of the trip. The important part was Momma Bee's experience at the Mayo Clinic.

I won't go into her whats, but I will tell you that the whys of her case were impressively dealt and handled with an ease and competence I've never seen in my years; not that I know anything.

What I do know is her case is complex and the bottom line of her particular whats were discovered with a timing that left me both awestruck and speechless.

My step-sister told me what these were. In the lobby of the Mayo Clinic. From the artist, Dale Chihuly. 

Is this place organized within an inch of reason? Oh yes. The fact that I managed to get Barnabee where they needed to be over and over is amazing and the thanks go mostly to helpful staff that seem to sense when you're lost and confused. Fantastic!

I attended most of the procedures and consultations along with Barnabee and the thing that struck me most is how within the team approach that the Mayo Clinic is known for, each and every one of the staffers Momma Bee had to speak with listened to her. I repeat; they listened to her.

Not that type of listening I've come to know within the medical community I've mostly dealt with, but listening. Real listening. Where they listen and then ask questions about what you just said. Over and over I observed this happening.

Momma Bee has been talking about her issues for years and nobody listened like she was listened to over the past week.

I might be exhausted (hello The Turnstyle tomorow - ack!), but it was well worth it.

We'll be going back for the continuation of her story, but now I know where I'm going! And that's always a good thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mayo Clinic
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Mayo Clinic is a not-for-profit medical practice and medical research group based in Rochester, Minnesota, specializing in treating difficult cases (tertiary care). Patients are referred to Mayo Clinic from across the U.S. and the world, and it is known for innovative and effective treatments. Mayo Clinic is known for being at the top of most accredited quality standard listings; for example, it has been near the top of the U.S. News & World Report List of "Best Hospitals for more than 20 years". The practice is distinguished by integrated care, and a strong research presence is evidenced by the fact that over 40% of its resources are devoted towards research (rather than just medical practice).

Mayo Clinic has been on the list of America's "100 Best Companies to Work For" published by Fortune magazine for eight years in a row. From its humble beginnings as a family venture between a father and his two sons, the practice later became America's first integrated group practice, a model that is now standard in the United States. The current-day Mayo Clinic is an integrated practice of more than 3,700 physicians and scientists, and a total employment including nurses, students, and allied health staff of more than 56,000 persons.

Core Values
As is evidenced by the Mayo Clinic logo, the institution has a three part focus. First and primary to the organization is the patient care practice, represented by the central shield. This is in accordance with the primary statement of the organization that "the needs of the patient always come first." The other two shields represent the areas of education and research, two areas of Mayo Clinic which have become more prominent over time.

Hot Men Friday

The week!

It's Friday. I'm up early (hello cool cool morning!), drinking my coffee (yay!), and thinking back over the past week, which is making me pretty happy right about now.

Long, long lunch with darling sister - check!
Clearing piles of crap papers off of desk - check!
Making appointments, organizing calendar, organizing Pup's calendar - check!
Having a much-anticipated mini-getaway - whooo ha! - check!
Having wonderful visit with wasband, wasband's new wife, and my Bella - check!
Seeing beautiful week-old baby - check!
Millions of other crap important things - too many to mention - check!

John Legend

A few years ago Lorenzo moved to San Francisco. Pup and I drove with her across the country, unloaded the little Pod full of her stuff, helped her set up her apartment. It was one of the best trips I've ever had. So fun driving across the country with Pup and my youngest. The only trip better was the one where I helped her drive home when she moved back. Holla! (do I sound gangsta when I say holla? No? Not even a little? Crap!)

That was a good ramble to get to the point that while at Lorenzo's tiny San Francisco apartment she would turn on her iTunes while we were all working. I kept hearing this soft and strong, warm-like-honey voice.

"Who is that baby-girl?" I asked her.

"Momma, you don't know John Legend?" she replied.

Nope. I had apparently been living under a rock.

But ever since that day I know him.

And now that he's on Duets I'm getting to look at his handsomeness every week. And listen to that honey whenever I want. Mmmm! Did someone mention honey? I scoop it out of the jar with a tablespoon. That's what I do.

This video is an awesome watch of his sexy, sexy ways. Speaking of sexy, check out the two women dancing and singing to your left. Hotness!

To skip all the crap intro stuff jump to 1:22 on the video dial :)

I don't know about y'all, but I'm ready to go right now!

Whipping Cream

No reason for this shot - it's just purdy

I am a hair twister. Like a maniac.

When I'm reading, when I'm thinking, when I'm daydreaming, when I'm procrastinating.

It's something I have done since the 3rd grade. It started after my momma had given me a home perm (oh dear lord!) and I had curls all over my head that felt good when they plopped plopped around my finger while touching them.

It makes you look a tad crazy at times. I've even twisted my hair while stuck in traffic! Well - you gotta do something!

So . . . this morning I sat down and wanted to write a post. I didn't have a solid idea that I wanted to write about and I was letting my mind run around like a puppy without a leash to see what it would come up with.

So you can only imagine the hair twisting that was going on.

Here is the sentence I started out with:

I opened up the refrigerator door, spotted the whipping cream in the canister, and squirted a huge huge squirt directly into my mouth. Couldn't even talk for a few moments afterwards it was so delicious and a bit shameful.

WTH? That is the sentence that couldn't! I gotta say, the brain is a wondrous thing that I will never get tired of. Thank god for that because it's the only one I have.

But, sadly, that sentence did not inspire any additional thoughts. It's a good sentence regardless. Ha!

BTW - do you ever squirt whipping cream into your coffee? You know - when you're out of cream? I've done that more times than I care to admit to. 

So, here is the post that couldn't. Some days are inspired. Some days are waiting for inspiration.

I KNOW you all know what I'm talking about.

How you doin?

Time for a Cool Change

Come for a ride with me?

 I bend over to see what is floating across the floor.

Oh, of course. It's a dust bunny. Ironically, the size of a real bunny.

"How does that manage make me feel like a bad housekeeper," I ask myself? "Surely, even Martha Stewart occasionally has dust bunnies floating across her floor, yes?"

sigh

I'm feeling transient. Restless. Maybe even edgy.

No reason behind any of it. It could be insomnia related. I'm certain that the brain has a hard time with insomnia. After, perhaps, six or seven days of four or so hours a night there isn't much left up there to help cool my hot head.

That's what I need! A cool washcloth placed over my restlessness. Like your momma would do when you were feverish. That cool cloth on your forehead with your momma's hand pushing it into place always made you feel like you were loved and safe.

The house is very quiet and still. The dog shuffles towards the back door, looking at me as if to say, "What the hell; I'll go pee if you really think I need to."

Yeah, I think you need to.

I step outside with him. It's lovely! The sun is just showing its yellow sliver - giving a huge clue what's ahead for this Sunday.

I bring my coffee up to my lips. Sip it and smile. Yep, Everything feels better with a cool washcloth.

Rock and sock it today my hooches. Summer is just beginning!

Who Are You Redux?

It's Friday! And it must be my birthday! Yay to the birthday week.

We're having a BBQ at our house tonight with the kidletts and their respective boys and I'm very excited.

However, I met with my BBF, Reechie, last night for dinner and cocktails and look what she found for me for my birthday.

Could he be cuter?? His little eyes light up at night. I swooned and screamed a little bit right in the restaurant. See that woman looking at me? Ha!

He is already sitting on the deck outside the big room. I can't wait to see his face tonight.

And, just for good measure, this is the card she got me.

Not that I've done this mind you. ::looking at floor and shuffling foot about::

Have a great weekend hooches and have a cocktail and wish me happy birthday!

Smooches

Speak or Quell?

Get on your horse and ride.
~Marshall Matt Dillon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Complicated? Nope.

Long-winded? Nope.

Charmingly simple? Yes.

I am full of annoying advice. I had an argument with myself last week about just how annoying. My intent is always good. The antithesis of that line from one of Amy Winehouse's songs, "The message was brutal, but the delivery was kind." My delivery seems kind in my head, but brutal in its content.

As a blurter I have a long relationship with remorse.

I just thesauru.comed remorse. The note reads: Regret carries no explicit admission that one is responsible for an incident, while remorse implies a sense of guilty responsibility and a greater feeling of personal pain and anguish. Both of those seem a bit heavy-handed, but I am at a loss for a better word. My blurting sometimes causes me a pang, but is it regret or remorse? I have to think on that a bit longer.

Okay, let's go with regret.

Again - where am I going with all of this on this windy, hot morning?

I appreciate the early-morning ramblings that go on in my head, but harnessing this content is sometimes like herding cats. Good luck with that! Don't forget to write! 

Here's the thing, the thingy-thing of it all - if you say nothing, if you sit and observe with no participation, that's when you might feel a pang of regret. I should reword that to read, that's when I'll feel a pang of regret.

So! Say what you mean, but don't be mean saying it. (I stole this entire line from a reality show I confess with chagrin.)

And I'll get on that horse and ride.

What's on my Blackberry?

Let's take a look at the past week or so. Follow along and laugh enjoy!

Pup and I, along with my sister and brother-in-law, took Barnabee (my dad and step-momma) out for my dad's birthday. Fogo de Chao - where the steak comes hot and often and the boys stop smiling only long enough to say, "Yes! I'll have more!" We seriously love this place like teenage boys love their dirty socks. Apologies for the thought. Some of these things just pop into my head and have to come out somewhere. :)

I went shopping for flowers (finally) and for some reason needed to take a picture of myself. I'm so cute! I'm so kidding! I'm sharing because I rarely take a good photo and when I get one I hoard it like I hoard chocolate.

One of my oldest friends was in town helping her parents downsize to an apartment. They have lived in their lovely house in Highland Park, St. Paul for 56 years. 56 years! Christine and I went to a pub I used to frequent when I lived in St. Paul a few years ago and we had the best time arguing, talking, crying, laughing, and just marveling at the fact that we've known each other since high school. And yes, we act so high school. Love it so much.

Look at all the stuff that Christine's momma, Mrs. M, let me take home. Oh the love and she PROMISES to call me when they have their garage sale because it will be full of more spiffy stuff. Oh I am swooning just thinking about it.

Yes, the cats were hiding because I play my music way too loud during the day. Just look at their disapproving faces! So bad.

These are the regular types of photos I get of myself from my camera. My arms are either not long enough to get my whole body, or I am obsessed with my bubbies and feet, like so many of us. Us being bloggers. Not anyone looking at my bubbies and feet.

We had GNO at my house Saturday night. Our theme was French! We had French food (those are French hamburgers minuscules délicieux. From Julia Child's cookbook! I love her so much since everything is dripping butter. What's not to love? Mmm and numm! I think I had a few gin and tonics before I took these shots. Which explains a lot. (I'm certain French girls drink those yes?)

We dressed French. The best was my peu adorable Shelley-belly. She looked just like Audrey Hepburn. Alli-baby and I both thought pearls and a scarf tied around our necks was French enough. I abandoned my scarf immediately since it was hot as hail that evening.

So much fun. The girl-talk was thick and sassy. The things you learn!

Frozen grapes as ice cubes. I am the best Martha ever. Don't look at me like that. I have my moments.

Shelley-belly made dessert. Mmmm and nummy.

Big-ass breakfast the next morning to clear my head of the gin. Hollandaise!

Be the Cat

Toes need love too.

I wake with a headache.

I tumble down the stairs and flop on the sofa in The Big Room, pull the laptop onto my lap (what a handy name don't you think?).

I'm maybe in a mood. I'm not a fan of being in moods. You know I'm talking about a bad mood right? I feel the overwhelming urge to add a smiley face, but I'm too crabby.  :)

And the headache is still firmly in place.

I don't eat too many carbs and yesterday I was kinda on a carb-fest. Could this be my punishment?

I want to go to the kitchen and make myself some coffee, but the cat DK has already claimed my thighs as hers and she really feels so cozy laying there with her little arms shoved under the MacBook that is on my thighs.

I have lots of things to do today and don't really have time for a bad mood. What's up with bad moods anyway? They surely don't help the things I have to do today. They surely don't help any crappy family situations that may or may not have occurred yesterday. I don't want to be cryptic, but I am feeling cryptic.

Ironically I was telling my NP yesterday during my yearly how happy I mostly feel. Happy like an idiot is how I put it. She laughed out loud at the thought. Me being an idiot or me being happy? I'm not too sure! Ha!

Here's what I need to do today. Be the cat. Take a deep breath. Take a step back. Let family handle family. My headache won't change a thing. My crabbiness won't help a thing. In particular it won't help me.

I love all of them, but I'm kinda important too.

And I really hate headaches.

Hot Men Friday

Howard Stern

Wait! Don't snort and say WTH just yet.

I have loved Howard with a passion that many shake their heads at.

"He's disgusting"!

"He objectifies women"!

"He thinks fart jokes are high-humor"!

Yes, most of this is, at one time or another, true.

But this man makes me laugh.

Many years ago, when I owned my little consignment shop, he was syndicated here in the cities for a short period of time. I listened every day. And LMAO every day. My wasband was appalled that I would enjoy Howard so much. I couldn't help it.

The man knows how to interview. He listens. He gets people to say things that are both outrageous and introspective. An amazing talent in that regard.

Frankly, I've always been attracted to him. His thick curly hair, his blue blue eyes, and even though I am not normally attracted to tall and lanky, this man is tall and lanky! And I like it on him.

I've been watching him on America Has Talent and he has his parents there with him and I love that he loves his parents. He is funny and surprisingly kind to the wackadoos that are competing.

And, I love to laugh. And what is better than laughing until you have a headache?

smooches all my lovely hooches

Just Give Me a Kiss

Alli-baby had a date last night and was texting me while she was waiting at the pub.

The guy was someone she had worked with a while back and she wanted to see if they had any dating mojo going on.

Her texts were making me laugh out loud. And y'all may remember what happens when I laugh out loud. Small children and animals run for cover. Two things I cannot do quietly - sneeze or laugh.

Alli - I'm here. I'm early. Help me not drink too many glasses of wine before he gets here
Me - Two drinks total! That's all you get!
A - But it's hot!
M - Water!
A - But we'll be outside.
M - WTH? It's hot! Get inside! Cool as the cat!
A - I like to be sweaty!
M - OMG!
A - How should I greet him?
M - You know what to do.
A - Is it okay to grab his balls?
M - aaaaaahahahaha!
M - No, no ball grabbing.
A - What if he doesn't like my hair?
M - Stop it! He already loves your hair!
M - Just flirt and touch him from time to time.
A - Is it bad to touch his ass?
M - [snorting and choking]
M - yeah, that's okay. Go ahead and touch his ass.

silence for a minute

A -Okay, conversation going good. Small talk, blah blah blah
M - No texting during date

I was laughing so hard imagining all of this.

She and I are meeting for lunch today. I am bringing Dating for Dummies with me, but that girl will do what that girl will do.

I cannot stop laughing.

And I wouldn't have sat in the sun. I melt like butter.