Got this giggler from over at In Between Meals...
A young country bumpkin goes to a drug store and says to the pharmacist: "I got a hot date tonight, an' I need me some pertection. How much is a pack a' them rubbers gonna cost me?" The pharmacist responds: "A three-pack of condoms is $4.99 with tax." "TACKS!" the shocked redneck says. "Gawd a' mighty, don't they stay on by themselves?
*I took the liberty of changing the description of the young man.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Oh, Arkansas!
Got this in an email from a Texas relative & will dedicate it to my Arkansas relatives. (Hey, I can do this - my Daddy was born in Arkansas!
THINGS I HAVE LEARNED FROM LIVING IN ARKANSAS:
*Possums sleep in the middle of the road with their feet in the air.
*There are 5,000 types of snakes on earth and 4,998 live in Arkansas .
*There are 10,000 types of spiders. All 10,000 live in Arkansas , plus a couple no one's seen before.
*If it grows, it sticks; if it crawls, it bites.
*Onced and Twiced are words.
*It is not a shopping cart; it is a buggy.
*People actually grow and eat okra.
*'Fixinto' is one word.
*There is no such thing as 'lunch.' There is only dinner and then supper.
*Iced tea is appropriate for all meals and you start drinking it when you're two. We do like a little tea with our sugar!
*Backwards and forwards means 'I know everything about you.'
*DJeet is actually a phrase meaning 'Did you eat?'
*You don't have to wear a watch because it doesn't matter what time it is. You work until you're done or it's too dark to see.
*You don't PUSH buttons, you MASH them.
*You measure distance in minutes.
*You'll probably have to switch from 'heat' to 'A/C' in the same day.
*'Fix' is a verb. Example: 'I'm fixing to go to the store.'
*All the festivals across the state are named after a fruit, vegetable, grain, insect or animal.
*You install security lights on your house and garage and leave both unlocked.
*You carry jumper cables in your car . . . for your OWN car.
*There are only four spices: salt, pepper, Tabasco and ketchup.
*The local papers cover national and international news on one page, but require 6 pages for local gossip and sports.
*The first day of deer season is a national holiday.
*100 degrees Fahrenheit is 'a little warm.'
*We have four seasons: Almost Summer, Summer, still Summer and Christmas.
*Going to Wal-mart is a favorite past time known as 'goin' Wal-martin' or off to 'Wally World.'
*A cool snap (below 70 degrees) is good pinto-bean weather.
*A carbonated soft drink isn't a soda, cola or pop. . . it's a Coke, regardless of brand or flavor. Example: 'What kinda coke you want?'
*Fried catfish is the other white meat.
*We don't need no stinking driver's ed . . . if our mama says we can drive, we can drive.
EVERYONE can't be from Arkansas ; it takes talent. You might say it's an art form or a gift from God!
THINGS I HAVE LEARNED FROM LIVING IN ARKANSAS:
*Possums sleep in the middle of the road with their feet in the air.
*There are 5,000 types of snakes on earth and 4,998 live in Arkansas .
*There are 10,000 types of spiders. All 10,000 live in Arkansas , plus a couple no one's seen before.
*If it grows, it sticks; if it crawls, it bites.
*Onced and Twiced are words.
*It is not a shopping cart; it is a buggy.
*People actually grow and eat okra.
*'Fixinto' is one word.
*There is no such thing as 'lunch.' There is only dinner and then supper.
*Iced tea is appropriate for all meals and you start drinking it when you're two. We do like a little tea with our sugar!
*Backwards and forwards means 'I know everything about you.'
*DJeet is actually a phrase meaning 'Did you eat?'
*You don't have to wear a watch because it doesn't matter what time it is. You work until you're done or it's too dark to see.
*You don't PUSH buttons, you MASH them.
*You measure distance in minutes.
*You'll probably have to switch from 'heat' to 'A/C' in the same day.
*'Fix' is a verb. Example: 'I'm fixing to go to the store.'
*All the festivals across the state are named after a fruit, vegetable, grain, insect or animal.
*You install security lights on your house and garage and leave both unlocked.
*You carry jumper cables in your car . . . for your OWN car.
*There are only four spices: salt, pepper, Tabasco and ketchup.
*The local papers cover national and international news on one page, but require 6 pages for local gossip and sports.
*The first day of deer season is a national holiday.
*100 degrees Fahrenheit is 'a little warm.'
*We have four seasons: Almost Summer, Summer, still Summer and Christmas.
*Going to Wal-mart is a favorite past time known as 'goin' Wal-martin' or off to 'Wally World.'
*A cool snap (below 70 degrees) is good pinto-bean weather.
*A carbonated soft drink isn't a soda, cola or pop. . . it's a Coke, regardless of brand or flavor. Example: 'What kinda coke you want?'
*Fried catfish is the other white meat.
*We don't need no stinking driver's ed . . . if our mama says we can drive, we can drive.
EVERYONE can't be from Arkansas ; it takes talent. You might say it's an art form or a gift from God!
** Loves it!***
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Marriage - Before & After
Another one from email. I don't know about you guys, but some of these made me go, "Hmmm..."
Before - You take my breath away.
After - I feel like I'm suffocating.
After - I feel like I'm suffocating.
Before - She loves the way I take control of a situation.
After - She called me a controlling, manipulative, egomaniac.
After - She called me a controlling, manipulative, egomaniac.
Before - Ricky & Lucy.
After - Fred & Ethel.
After - Fred & Ethel.
Before - Saturday Night Live.
After - Monday Night Football.
After - Monday Night Football.
Before - He makes me feel like a million dollars.
After - If I had a dime for every stupid thing he's done....
After - If I had a dime for every stupid thing he's done....
Before - Is that all you are eating?
After - Maybe you should just have a salad, honey.
After - Maybe you should just have a salad, honey.
Before - Wheel of Fortune.
After - Jeopardy.
After - Jeopardy.
Before - It's like living a dream.
After - It's a nightmare.
After - It's a nightmare.
Before - Turbocharged.
After - Needs a jump-start.
After - Needs a jump-start.
Before - We agree on everything!
After - Doesn't she have a mind of her own?
After - Doesn't she have a mind of her own?
Before - Idol.
After - Idle.
After - Idle.
Before - He's lost without me.
After - Why can't he ask for directions?
After - Why can't he ask for directions?
Before - When together, time stands still.
After - This relationship is going nowhere.
After - This relationship is going nowhere.
Before - Oysters.
After - Fishsticks.
After - Fishsticks.
Before - I can hardly believe we found each other.
After - How did I end up with someone like you?
After - How did I end up with someone like you?
True Friendship
(This is another post I did on another blog a long while back. I first saw this when a friend sent it to me - ya remember, Barb of the Roy D. Mercer tapes? Well, it was the best thing I'd seen after getting all those annoying emails about friendship.)
Are you tired of those sissy-ass "friendship" poems that always sound
good, but never actually come close to reality? Well, here is a series
of promises that actually speak of true friendship:
1. When you are sad -- I will help you get drunk and plot revenge
against the sorry bastard who made you sad.
2. When you are blue -- I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.
3. When you smile -- I will know you finally got laid.
4. When you are scared -- I will rag on you about it every chance I get.
5. When you are worried -- I will tell you horrible stories about how
much worse it could be until you quit whining.
6. When you are confused -- I will use little words.
7. When you are sick -- Stay the hell away from me until you are well
again. I don't want whatever you have.
8. When you fall -- I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass. (I dedicate this one to my non-friends - like the klutzy parking lot blonde!)
9. This is my oath..... I pledge it to the end. "Why?" you may ask;
"because you are my friend".
Send this to 10 of your closest friends, then get depressed because you
can only think of 4.
Remember......A good friend will help you move.....a REALLY good friend
will help you move a body.......let me know if you ever need me to bring
a shovel.
Friendship is like peeing your pants, everyone can see it, but only you
can feel the true warmth.
(Yeah... I have at least 2 of these friends. **Hiya, Barb!**)
True Friendship
Are you tired of those sissy-ass "friendship" poems that always sound
good, but never actually come close to reality? Well, here is a series
of promises that actually speak of true friendship:
1. When you are sad -- I will help you get drunk and plot revenge
against the sorry bastard who made you sad.
2. When you are blue -- I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.
3. When you smile -- I will know you finally got laid.
4. When you are scared -- I will rag on you about it every chance I get.
5. When you are worried -- I will tell you horrible stories about how
much worse it could be until you quit whining.
6. When you are confused -- I will use little words.
7. When you are sick -- Stay the hell away from me until you are well
again. I don't want whatever you have.
8. When you fall -- I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass. (I dedicate this one to my non-friends - like the klutzy parking lot blonde!)
9. This is my oath..... I pledge it to the end. "Why?" you may ask;
"because you are my friend".
Send this to 10 of your closest friends, then get depressed because you
can only think of 4.
Remember......A good friend will help you move.....a REALLY good friend
will help you move a body.......let me know if you ever need me to bring
a shovel.
Friendship is like peeing your pants, everyone can see it, but only you
can feel the true warmth.
(Yeah... I have at least 2 of these friends. **Hiya, Barb!**)
And Then The Fight Started (yes, again!)
Such amusing emails that get passed around. Already told you how I love these...
A man and a woman were asleep like two innocent babies.
Suddenly, at 3 o'clock in the morning, a loud noise came from outside..
The woman, bewildered, jumped up from the bed and yelled at the man,Holy crap. That must be my husband!'
So the man jumped out of the bed; scared and naked jumped out the window. He smashed himself on the ground, ran through a thorn bush and to his car as fast as he could go..
A few minutes later he returned and went up to the bedroom and screamed at the woman, 'I AM your husband!'
The woman yelled back, 'Yeah, then why were you running?'
And then the fight started.....
Saturday morning I got up early, quietly dressed, made my lunch, grabbed the dog, and slipped quietly into the garage.
I hooked up the boat up to the truck, and proceeded to back out into a torrential downpour.
The wind was blowing 50 mph, so I pulled back into the garage, turned on the radio, and discovered that the weather would be bad all day.
I went back into the house, quietly undressed, and slipped back into bed.
I cuddled up to my wife's back, now with a different anticipation, and whispered, 'The weather out there is terrible.'
My loving wife of 10 years replied, 'Can you believe my stupid husband is out fishing in that?'
And then the fight started....
A man and a woman were asleep like two innocent babies.
Suddenly, at 3 o'clock in the morning, a loud noise came from outside..
The woman, bewildered, jumped up from the bed and yelled at the man,Holy crap. That must be my husband!'
So the man jumped out of the bed; scared and naked jumped out the window. He smashed himself on the ground, ran through a thorn bush and to his car as fast as he could go..
A few minutes later he returned and went up to the bedroom and screamed at the woman, 'I AM your husband!'
The woman yelled back, 'Yeah, then why were you running?'
And then the fight started.....
****
Saturday morning I got up early, quietly dressed, made my lunch, grabbed the dog, and slipped quietly into the garage.
I hooked up the boat up to the truck, and proceeded to back out into a torrential downpour.
The wind was blowing 50 mph, so I pulled back into the garage, turned on the radio, and discovered that the weather would be bad all day.
I went back into the house, quietly undressed, and slipped back into bed.
I cuddled up to my wife's back, now with a different anticipation, and whispered, 'The weather out there is terrible.'
My loving wife of 10 years replied, 'Can you believe my stupid husband is out fishing in that?'
And then the fight started....
****
I asked my wife, "Where do you want to go for our anniversary? "
It warmed my heart to see her face melt in sweet appreciation. "Somewhere I haven't been in a long time!" she said.
So I suggested, "How about the kitchen?"
And that's when the fight started....
It warmed my heart to see her face melt in sweet appreciation. "Somewhere I haven't been in a long time!" she said.
So I suggested, "How about the kitchen?"
And that's when the fight started....
****
My wife and I are watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire while we were in bed. I turned to her and said, "Do you want to have sex?"
"No," she answered.
I then said, "Is that your final answer?"
She didn't even look at me this time, simply saying "Yes."
So I said, "Then I'd like to phone a friend."
And that's when the fight started....
"No," she answered.
I then said, "Is that your final answer?"
She didn't even look at me this time, simply saying "Yes."
So I said, "Then I'd like to phone a friend."
And that's when the fight started....
Hee hee...Bring it on!
Monday, February 23, 2009
Merry-Go Web
Been around the web & in my mail this morning:
Loved these (real) classified ads from over at Oddee. (What I wonder is why, why, why will people put so much of their personal biz out there to be talked about???)
I've been getting a bunch of those "And then the fight started" emails & wondered where they came from. Maybe here...
Then my Aunt Lil sent me this funny:
**A husband walks into Victoria's Secret to purchase a sheer negligee for his wife, for Valentine's Day.
He is show several possibilities that range from $250 to $500 - the more sheer, the higher the price.
Naturally, he opts for the most sheer item, pays the $500 and takes it home.
He presents it to his wife & asks her to go upstairs, put it on & model it for him.
Upstairs the wife things (she's no dummy), "I have an idea. It's so sheer that it might as well be nothing. I won't put it on, I'll do the modeling naked, return it tomorrow and keep the $500 refund for myself."
She appears naked on the balcony and strikes a pose.
The husband says, "Good grief! You'd think for $500, they'd at least iron it!"
He never heard the shot.
Funeral on Thursday at noon.
Closed coffin.
(heh heh)
Loved these (real) classified ads from over at Oddee. (What I wonder is why, why, why will people put so much of their personal biz out there to be talked about???)
I've been getting a bunch of those "And then the fight started" emails & wondered where they came from. Maybe here...
Then my Aunt Lil sent me this funny:
**A husband walks into Victoria's Secret to purchase a sheer negligee for his wife, for Valentine's Day.
He is show several possibilities that range from $250 to $500 - the more sheer, the higher the price.
Naturally, he opts for the most sheer item, pays the $500 and takes it home.
He presents it to his wife & asks her to go upstairs, put it on & model it for him.
Upstairs the wife things (she's no dummy), "I have an idea. It's so sheer that it might as well be nothing. I won't put it on, I'll do the modeling naked, return it tomorrow and keep the $500 refund for myself."
She appears naked on the balcony and strikes a pose.
The husband says, "Good grief! You'd think for $500, they'd at least iron it!"
He never heard the shot.
Funeral on Thursday at noon.
Closed coffin.
(heh heh)
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Exercise IS Good (if you count laughter)
**Another one of my old, old posts that still makes me fall over laughing. Can't remember who sent this one to me, but it was probably in one of those emails that go around the world from cousin to neighbor to co-worker... Anyway, I'm so bad about exercising myself - thank God I don't carry my weight badly - that I can totally relate to this one.)
(This is dedicated to everyone who ever attempted to get into a regular workout routine.)
Dear Diary: For my fortieth birthday this year, my wife (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am still in great shape since playing on my college football team 25yrs ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try. I called the club and made my reservation with a personal trainer named Belinda, who identified herself as a 26 yr. old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swimwear.
My wife seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.
MONDAY: Started my day at 6:00am. Tough to get out of bed, but it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Belinda waiting for me. She was something of a Greek goddess with blonde hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!!!! She took my pulse after 5 minutes on the treadmill. She was alarmed that my pulse was so fast, but I attributed it to standing next to her in her Lycra aerobics outfit. I enjoyed watching the skilful way in which she conducted her aerobics class after my workout today.
Very inspiring, Belinda was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, Although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time she was around. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!
TUESDAY: I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Belinda made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air, and then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Belinda's rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT!! It's a whole new life for me.
WEDNESDAY: The only way I can brush my teeth is by lying on the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot. Belinda was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered the other club members. Her voice is a little too perky for early in the morning and when she scolds, she gets this nasally whines that is VERY annoying.
My chest hurts when I got on the treadmill, so Belinda put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Belinda told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other shit too.
THURSDAY: Belinda was waiting for me with her vampire-like teeth exposed as her thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late; it took me that long to tie my shoes. Belinda took me to workout with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I ran and hid in the men's room. She sent Lars to find me, then, as punishment, put me on the rowing machine -- which I sank.
FRIDAY: I hate that bitch Belinda more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic little cheerleading bitch. If there were a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it. Belinda wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the*&%#(#&** barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich. The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?
SATURDAY: Belinda left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing her made me want to smash the machine with my planner. However, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.
SUNDAY: I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year, my wife (the other bitch), will choose a gift for me that is fun --like a root canal or a vasectomy
(This is dedicated to everyone who ever attempted to get into a regular workout routine.)
Dear Diary: For my fortieth birthday this year, my wife (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am still in great shape since playing on my college football team 25yrs ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try. I called the club and made my reservation with a personal trainer named Belinda, who identified herself as a 26 yr. old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swimwear.
My wife seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.
MONDAY: Started my day at 6:00am. Tough to get out of bed, but it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Belinda waiting for me. She was something of a Greek goddess with blonde hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Woo Hoo!!!!! She took my pulse after 5 minutes on the treadmill. She was alarmed that my pulse was so fast, but I attributed it to standing next to her in her Lycra aerobics outfit. I enjoyed watching the skilful way in which she conducted her aerobics class after my workout today.
Very inspiring, Belinda was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, Although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time she was around. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!
TUESDAY: I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Belinda made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air, and then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Belinda's rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT!! It's a whole new life for me.
WEDNESDAY: The only way I can brush my teeth is by lying on the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot. Belinda was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered the other club members. Her voice is a little too perky for early in the morning and when she scolds, she gets this nasally whines that is VERY annoying.
My chest hurts when I got on the treadmill, so Belinda put me on the stair monster. Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Belinda told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life. She said some other shit too.
THURSDAY: Belinda was waiting for me with her vampire-like teeth exposed as her thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn't help being a half an hour late; it took me that long to tie my shoes. Belinda took me to workout with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I ran and hid in the men's room. She sent Lars to find me, then, as punishment, put me on the rowing machine -- which I sank.
FRIDAY: I hate that bitch Belinda more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic little cheerleading bitch. If there were a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat her with it. Belinda wanted me to work on my triceps. I don't have any triceps! And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the*&%#(#&** barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich. The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?
SATURDAY: Belinda left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing her made me want to smash the machine with my planner. However, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.
SUNDAY: I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that next year, my wife (the other bitch), will choose a gift for me that is fun --like a root canal or a vasectomy
Friday, February 20, 2009
I'm Meaner Than I Thought
(Remember when I said I didn't like making fun of people? Well, I was looking back through some old posts from another blog & realized what a whopper of a lie I told. I have made fun of people A LOT. This post is from a few years ago when I was living and working in Arizona. It's still funny to me!)
God is gonna get me, 'cause everybody know: He don't like ugly, and this afternoon, I was SUCH a bad girl. (A HAPPY bad girl, but still...)
Here's what happened:
I was out in the parking lot taking a personal phone call - one of those you don't want people in the office listening in on. Rates right up there with making an appointment with your GYN or a private psychic (and I'm kidding - I don't mess with that kind of stuff - the psychic, I mean). So, there's a doctor's office right next to ours & there's this one chick who's always coming and going. I think she's the wife or girlfriend to the doc. Drives a smoking little BMW, wears hot pants that James Brown would dig, and works a walk to and from the car like she's on a fashion ramp in Milan. She is a pretty lady, I'll give her that. Blonde, tall, leggy, but extremely thin (I'm talking thin like Nicole Richie on a hunger strike), and sort of, um... preserved-looking - you know, like, she's had everything bonded, capped, plated, inflated - all that "Doctor 90210" kind of stuff. But, still, pretty - or maybe I should say she's striking. One of those people you will notice.
So, I'm out there in this hell-hot sun, trying to have my conversation and spray sunscreen on at the same time (yeah - I usually carry my sunscreen around with me) & Pretty Chick comes strutting out of the office next door. She does her walk (one that men probably visualize as happening in slow-mo & set to porno music) over to that hot-looking car of hers, opens the door, and - just when she's about to do the whole smooth duck-and-slide-into-the-seat move, the heel on her shoe must have twisted or something. I don't know. All I saw from where I stood (watching, of course) was that she was there one minute - all 5 foot maybe 9 inches tall - and the next... bloop. It's like she just disappeared.
(Maybe I told you all before about a friend of ours who slid under a car on some Alaska winter ice... Maybe not. Anyway, I had a flashback of that when Pretty Chick slid out of my sight the way she did. It was like a David Blaine moment.)
Of course, I paused talking on the phone to try to see what had happened. For a minute, nothing. Then, I see ol' girl pulling herself up on the side of the car. Hair all jacked up, one side of her outfit dusty... And she's red-faced embarrassed. I realized what had happened. She'd made that one too-cute move that sometimes goes all wrong on ya & busted her foxy ass right there in the parking lot.
Now.
Maybe because I just needed a good laugh, or maybe 'cause I really am kind of a bitch sometimes - I don't know what the reason is, but I just FELL OUT laughing. Like to broke something in my side I was so tickled. I'm talking head back, mouth open and LOUD, country-fied laughing. The kind of laughing you usually try to hold in reserve for when you're just around people you're real comfortable with. Whoo!
Then, maybe cause I just needed that laugh so bad, I couldn't stop. Every time I tried to get that mess under some kind of control, it hit me fresh again. I couldn't even catch my breath to talk long enough to explain to my conversation partner what the deal was. (The person on the other end of the phone doesn't know me REAL well, but by the time I got through, I had HER laughing. She didn't even know what was so funny. All I managed to tell her was, "I'll have to call you later.")
Now. Pretty Chick can hear me laughing. People TWO BLOCKS away could probably hear me laughing. But. I. Can't. Help. It.
When P.C. finishes dusting herself off, she shoots me a glare hotter than the AZ sun & then bops her butt on into her ride. That should've made me feel a little bit ashamed of myself, but it just set me off again. While she was giving me a look and trying to play like she hadn't just toasted her ass on that hot ground, I was thinking she might ought to just concentrate on not hurting herself again.
So, oh yeah - if there's such a thing as karma, or if Karma has a cousin called Payback - I'm in for some trouble. But it was worth it.
How sad is that? It took someone else's clumsy misfortune to lift my blues completely away. I'm telling you: I'm STILL laughing as I type this. Pretty Chick is going to hate me for a long time, but she's given me a gift. For at least the next ten years, every time I need a chuckle, all I'm going to have to do is remember her little moment in the sun. (Of course, I won't be trying to run into her in the parking lot. She's almost anorexic, but I bet she could step on me without lifting her leg too high.)
Y'all better pray for me 'cause I have a bill coming for this one. Either I'm going to fall, slide, or trip. Something. Life just does not give away the laugh I got today without a collection notice.
(I still laugh when I remember that, but I have to wonder if all this mess I've been going through for the past couple years isn't the payback I worried about then... I'm broke and scared and need a job real bad, and I bet if P.C. could see me now she'd be thrilled. Still. That mess was funny then & it's STILL funny today. I don't care!)
God is gonna get me, 'cause everybody know: He don't like ugly, and this afternoon, I was SUCH a bad girl. (A HAPPY bad girl, but still...)
Here's what happened:
I was out in the parking lot taking a personal phone call - one of those you don't want people in the office listening in on. Rates right up there with making an appointment with your GYN or a private psychic (and I'm kidding - I don't mess with that kind of stuff - the psychic, I mean). So, there's a doctor's office right next to ours & there's this one chick who's always coming and going. I think she's the wife or girlfriend to the doc. Drives a smoking little BMW, wears hot pants that James Brown would dig, and works a walk to and from the car like she's on a fashion ramp in Milan. She is a pretty lady, I'll give her that. Blonde, tall, leggy, but extremely thin (I'm talking thin like Nicole Richie on a hunger strike), and sort of, um... preserved-looking - you know, like, she's had everything bonded, capped, plated, inflated - all that "Doctor 90210" kind of stuff. But, still, pretty - or maybe I should say she's striking. One of those people you will notice.
So, I'm out there in this hell-hot sun, trying to have my conversation and spray sunscreen on at the same time (yeah - I usually carry my sunscreen around with me) & Pretty Chick comes strutting out of the office next door. She does her walk (one that men probably visualize as happening in slow-mo & set to porno music) over to that hot-looking car of hers, opens the door, and - just when she's about to do the whole smooth duck-and-slide-into-the-seat move, the heel on her shoe must have twisted or something. I don't know. All I saw from where I stood (watching, of course) was that she was there one minute - all 5 foot maybe 9 inches tall - and the next... bloop. It's like she just disappeared.
(Maybe I told you all before about a friend of ours who slid under a car on some Alaska winter ice... Maybe not. Anyway, I had a flashback of that when Pretty Chick slid out of my sight the way she did. It was like a David Blaine moment.)
Of course, I paused talking on the phone to try to see what had happened. For a minute, nothing. Then, I see ol' girl pulling herself up on the side of the car. Hair all jacked up, one side of her outfit dusty... And she's red-faced embarrassed. I realized what had happened. She'd made that one too-cute move that sometimes goes all wrong on ya & busted her foxy ass right there in the parking lot.
Now.
Maybe because I just needed a good laugh, or maybe 'cause I really am kind of a bitch sometimes - I don't know what the reason is, but I just FELL OUT laughing. Like to broke something in my side I was so tickled. I'm talking head back, mouth open and LOUD, country-fied laughing. The kind of laughing you usually try to hold in reserve for when you're just around people you're real comfortable with. Whoo!
Then, maybe cause I just needed that laugh so bad, I couldn't stop. Every time I tried to get that mess under some kind of control, it hit me fresh again. I couldn't even catch my breath to talk long enough to explain to my conversation partner what the deal was. (The person on the other end of the phone doesn't know me REAL well, but by the time I got through, I had HER laughing. She didn't even know what was so funny. All I managed to tell her was, "I'll have to call you later.")
Now. Pretty Chick can hear me laughing. People TWO BLOCKS away could probably hear me laughing. But. I. Can't. Help. It.
When P.C. finishes dusting herself off, she shoots me a glare hotter than the AZ sun & then bops her butt on into her ride. That should've made me feel a little bit ashamed of myself, but it just set me off again. While she was giving me a look and trying to play like she hadn't just toasted her ass on that hot ground, I was thinking she might ought to just concentrate on not hurting herself again.
So, oh yeah - if there's such a thing as karma, or if Karma has a cousin called Payback - I'm in for some trouble. But it was worth it.
How sad is that? It took someone else's clumsy misfortune to lift my blues completely away. I'm telling you: I'm STILL laughing as I type this. Pretty Chick is going to hate me for a long time, but she's given me a gift. For at least the next ten years, every time I need a chuckle, all I'm going to have to do is remember her little moment in the sun. (Of course, I won't be trying to run into her in the parking lot. She's almost anorexic, but I bet she could step on me without lifting her leg too high.)
Y'all better pray for me 'cause I have a bill coming for this one. Either I'm going to fall, slide, or trip. Something. Life just does not give away the laugh I got today without a collection notice.
(I still laugh when I remember that, but I have to wonder if all this mess I've been going through for the past couple years isn't the payback I worried about then... I'm broke and scared and need a job real bad, and I bet if P.C. could see me now she'd be thrilled. Still. That mess was funny then & it's STILL funny today. I don't care!)
You, The Wife & The Mistress (& other crazy news)
Item 1: Bad enough this guy gets busted cheating on his wife, but it gets worse when the wife and the mistress team up on his behind. It would be funny if it wasn't so... Never mind. It's funny. You know it, I know it, and one day the guy will look back & admit it too!
Item 2: My aunt from down in Texas was cracking on Alaska a little the other day (you know, we got the crazy granny guv & the rampaging moose and all...), so I am gonna have to pass this bit of news on to her (as if she hasn't seen it!). Message: At least our Girl Scouts are safe from Palin and the moose. (On a side note, these kids were bringing in some serious dough. Maybe I should be out selling Girl Scout cookies. Can you do that without troop membership?)
Item 3: I have been known to laugh at people wearing all that plastic and horse to make their hair look somehow better, but it looks like this lady should be happy to wear a weave for the rest of her life! This would be funnier if it wasn't kinda scary. I mean the man DID shoot at her. That sista might not ever go without having a pack of Yaki on hand! I bet she should have herself sitting up in church on Sunday, praising the Lord for the weave business...
Last Item: Okay now. This one isn't funny - not one damn bit funny, but I had to pass it along since it is definitely "quirky" in its way. The stimulus bill is going to help THIS GUY out when he hardly needs help, but my broke a** can't even afford to file bankruptcy??? (I know this is an unintended effect of the bill, but, dang... Can't us broke folk catch a break somewhere?)
I have to get outta here now. I need to find out how to sign up for some Girl Scout cookies or to get on the list of women Paul Allen finds irresistible. Maybe I can be his maid or official briefcase carrier or something. Somebody with that much money has got to have a need for another flunky!
Item 2: My aunt from down in Texas was cracking on Alaska a little the other day (you know, we got the crazy granny guv & the rampaging moose and all...), so I am gonna have to pass this bit of news on to her (as if she hasn't seen it!). Message: At least our Girl Scouts are safe from Palin and the moose. (On a side note, these kids were bringing in some serious dough. Maybe I should be out selling Girl Scout cookies. Can you do that without troop membership?)
Item 3: I have been known to laugh at people wearing all that plastic and horse to make their hair look somehow better, but it looks like this lady should be happy to wear a weave for the rest of her life! This would be funnier if it wasn't kinda scary. I mean the man DID shoot at her. That sista might not ever go without having a pack of Yaki on hand! I bet she should have herself sitting up in church on Sunday, praising the Lord for the weave business...
Last Item: Okay now. This one isn't funny - not one damn bit funny, but I had to pass it along since it is definitely "quirky" in its way. The stimulus bill is going to help THIS GUY out when he hardly needs help, but my broke a** can't even afford to file bankruptcy??? (I know this is an unintended effect of the bill, but, dang... Can't us broke folk catch a break somewhere?)
I have to get outta here now. I need to find out how to sign up for some Girl Scout cookies or to get on the list of women Paul Allen finds irresistible. Maybe I can be his maid or official briefcase carrier or something. Somebody with that much money has got to have a need for another flunky!
Revisiting My Storms
I just posted this yesterday over at my other blog where I posted "Memory Storms" the first time almost 3 years ago. At that time, my life was in a cycle of changes, but they were all good changes: moving to start somewhere fresh, new job, new relationships... This time the changes are more painful and harder to bear, but I realize that, God willing, I will live long enough for these hard times to be just a memory. Hopefully, this is just a valley I'm going through on my way to some peaks.) Anyway, like always, good times or bad, when things are at a extreme for me, I think of my mother. So this is, again, for Mama.
Memory storm.
Memories about my mama.
Asofetida - I don't know if that's how it's spelled, but I remember Mama saying it's what her mother used to put on her (Mama's) chest when she had a cold or something. Said it stunk to high heaven & probably only worked because the odor scared the germs away.
Urine Shampoo - Mama told me once how, when they were young, her cousin "Bunky" was the only one in the family with short hair (do y'all remember "In Living Color" where one of the characters talked about folk & one of her lines was about a woman with short hair: "hair so shawt you can read her thoughts!"?) and someone told her that it would grow if she washed it in her urine. This fool saved her pee in a big old jar & once a week, she'd pour the urine on it. I don't know what that old pee must've smelled like, but Mama says Bunky grew enough hair in a few weeks to snatch up into a rubber band. She might've grown more hair if "Aunt Jack" hadn't made her stop with the pee shampoos.
Bacon Grease Lotion - Mama says that if they ran out of Jergens or Vaseline, she and her cousins would use bacon grease (and you know she meant that big jar of "drippings" that sat on the stove in an old Folgers can) instead. One time, one of her cousins oiled up and headed off to work. She was running late, so she short-cut it through someone's back yard. "Someone" had some dogs. Dogs smelled the bacon grease. Cousin had to pull the Wilma Rudolph out of her soul and book like the wind. I guess she was leaping fences like somebody had bet money on her. (I suppose she made it away from the dogs. Mama never said. We were both laughing too hard for her to finish that story.)
Sooty Beauty - Back in the day (Mama's day), there weren't a lot of readily available cosmetics for "women of color." Most of my mother's family has LOTS of color & they go from black as midnight (some of them with grey eyes that gave me serious nightmares & this is before colored contacts!) to Light as Vanessa Williams. Most fall in the middlin' to dark category. The lighter-complexioned folk could get away with over the counter lipsticks & blushes and all that. My mother and the rest had to work something else out. So what did they do? Mama says that they'd find the darkest lipstick (usually some kind of slut-red shade) and they could find, then mix in some soot. Yep. Soot from the bottom of pots or burnt wood... The soot would darken up the lipstick enough to compliment a sister with deep roots. (Another time, Mama told me that there were some cosmetics for black women. These were sold door-to-door or could be ordered from ads in the back of romance magazines. A long time ago, someone sent me an old copy of a black romance mag & I saw an ad for "Lucky Heart Cosmetics." Somehow, I picture this as one of the places Mama would have found her makeup when she was young.)
"Busting" a part - My mother was extremely honest. If she didn't know you well, but didn't like something about you, she'd be polite about telling you. If she knew you well - or "owned" you as she did her children - she'd skip politeness & just get to the damn point. (Mama's bossiness with a person went up with her level of approval of them. I could always tell a friend of mine was "in" with my mama the minute she went from inviting them to "come on in and have a seat" to telling them "bring your ass on in here and sit down, boy. That couch ain't gone bite your ass." Most guys who made it past being like by Mama were keepers as far as I was concerned.) One time, I thought it would be cute to wear my hair with a part down the very center. Mama didn't think it was cute. When I came out to rescue a date from being scared into incontinency by Mama, she took one look at my head and asked, "Why you got your hair busted down the middle with that part, looking like Sista Tutta?" (I have no idea who "Sista Tutta" is & I didn't ask. I was too busy sliding back into the bathroom to get that part out of my hair. And, no, I didn't "keep" the guy I had the date with. He laughed a little too damned hard at Mama's comments.)
TPV Perfume - (This crossed my mind when I did my "favorite perfume" on the ABC's yesterday.) When I was younger, I wasn't allowed to wear make-up (don't forget my "holiness" background), and perfume was too extravagant. BUT - I knew I had hit a milestone of "getting grown" when Mama let me wear TPV to a school "dance" (aka: a bunch of kids standing against the wall in the gym and pretending not to notice each other while music played). Talcum powder and vanilla extract. Yep. I didn't get to buy "Heaven Sent" (or whatever it was called), but I sure thought I was some hot stuff when I wiped that cotton ball of vanilla across my shoulders and then puffed on some powder. Shoot. Too bad the only boy who got close enough to smell it was the boy handing out the plastic cups at the punchbowl.
Chewing tar - This falls into that category of "country health" stuff. I can't even lay this on my mama's generation & end it there because she passed it down to us. Until I was about fourteen (right around the time I was leaving my small town life), I - and all my cousins, play & real - chewed tar. I don't remember where it came from. My mama and aunt would have it to hand out to us. It was clean little pieces & shiny where it had been broken or cut into bite sizes. We'd gnaw on that tar like dogs on rawhide. Mama always said it was good for the teeth. And I have to say, I always had great teeth - until the Air Force let their dentists practice on all of us.
Wow. Memory storm. Mama on the mind.
Believe it or not, I owe almost all of my current manuscripts (the ideas, the characters, the settings - everything) to these memories. Of course, I guess most writers will say the same thing.
I read this through after I posted it on Being Free & thought that since it does have some smiles in it, it belongs here on Lotta Laughs just as well. Hope it made you smile & think of your folks.
A Memory Storm
Hey y'all. Your girl here is having what I like to call a memory storm. You know, when you have so much going on in your head that things collide & your brain rescues itself from possible system failure by taking a walk in the rain of pleasant memories. Only the memories aren't nice & organized - they just bounce all over the place, like hail or those hard little raindrops that hurt when they hit you.Memory storm.
Memories about my mama.
Asofetida - I don't know if that's how it's spelled, but I remember Mama saying it's what her mother used to put on her (Mama's) chest when she had a cold or something. Said it stunk to high heaven & probably only worked because the odor scared the germs away.
Urine Shampoo - Mama told me once how, when they were young, her cousin "Bunky" was the only one in the family with short hair (do y'all remember "In Living Color" where one of the characters talked about folk & one of her lines was about a woman with short hair: "hair so shawt you can read her thoughts!"?) and someone told her that it would grow if she washed it in her urine. This fool saved her pee in a big old jar & once a week, she'd pour the urine on it. I don't know what that old pee must've smelled like, but Mama says Bunky grew enough hair in a few weeks to snatch up into a rubber band. She might've grown more hair if "Aunt Jack" hadn't made her stop with the pee shampoos.
Bacon Grease Lotion - Mama says that if they ran out of Jergens or Vaseline, she and her cousins would use bacon grease (and you know she meant that big jar of "drippings" that sat on the stove in an old Folgers can) instead. One time, one of her cousins oiled up and headed off to work. She was running late, so she short-cut it through someone's back yard. "Someone" had some dogs. Dogs smelled the bacon grease. Cousin had to pull the Wilma Rudolph out of her soul and book like the wind. I guess she was leaping fences like somebody had bet money on her. (I suppose she made it away from the dogs. Mama never said. We were both laughing too hard for her to finish that story.)
Sooty Beauty - Back in the day (Mama's day), there weren't a lot of readily available cosmetics for "women of color." Most of my mother's family has LOTS of color & they go from black as midnight (some of them with grey eyes that gave me serious nightmares & this is before colored contacts!) to Light as Vanessa Williams. Most fall in the middlin' to dark category. The lighter-complexioned folk could get away with over the counter lipsticks & blushes and all that. My mother and the rest had to work something else out. So what did they do? Mama says that they'd find the darkest lipstick (usually some kind of slut-red shade) and they could find, then mix in some soot. Yep. Soot from the bottom of pots or burnt wood... The soot would darken up the lipstick enough to compliment a sister with deep roots. (Another time, Mama told me that there were some cosmetics for black women. These were sold door-to-door or could be ordered from ads in the back of romance magazines. A long time ago, someone sent me an old copy of a black romance mag & I saw an ad for "Lucky Heart Cosmetics." Somehow, I picture this as one of the places Mama would have found her makeup when she was young.)
"Busting" a part - My mother was extremely honest. If she didn't know you well, but didn't like something about you, she'd be polite about telling you. If she knew you well - or "owned" you as she did her children - she'd skip politeness & just get to the damn point. (Mama's bossiness with a person went up with her level of approval of them. I could always tell a friend of mine was "in" with my mama the minute she went from inviting them to "come on in and have a seat" to telling them "bring your ass on in here and sit down, boy. That couch ain't gone bite your ass." Most guys who made it past being like by Mama were keepers as far as I was concerned.) One time, I thought it would be cute to wear my hair with a part down the very center. Mama didn't think it was cute. When I came out to rescue a date from being scared into incontinency by Mama, she took one look at my head and asked, "Why you got your hair busted down the middle with that part, looking like Sista Tutta?" (I have no idea who "Sista Tutta" is & I didn't ask. I was too busy sliding back into the bathroom to get that part out of my hair. And, no, I didn't "keep" the guy I had the date with. He laughed a little too damned hard at Mama's comments.)
TPV Perfume - (This crossed my mind when I did my "favorite perfume" on the ABC's yesterday.) When I was younger, I wasn't allowed to wear make-up (don't forget my "holiness" background), and perfume was too extravagant. BUT - I knew I had hit a milestone of "getting grown" when Mama let me wear TPV to a school "dance" (aka: a bunch of kids standing against the wall in the gym and pretending not to notice each other while music played). Talcum powder and vanilla extract. Yep. I didn't get to buy "Heaven Sent" (or whatever it was called), but I sure thought I was some hot stuff when I wiped that cotton ball of vanilla across my shoulders and then puffed on some powder. Shoot. Too bad the only boy who got close enough to smell it was the boy handing out the plastic cups at the punchbowl.
Chewing tar - This falls into that category of "country health" stuff. I can't even lay this on my mama's generation & end it there because she passed it down to us. Until I was about fourteen (right around the time I was leaving my small town life), I - and all my cousins, play & real - chewed tar. I don't remember where it came from. My mama and aunt would have it to hand out to us. It was clean little pieces & shiny where it had been broken or cut into bite sizes. We'd gnaw on that tar like dogs on rawhide. Mama always said it was good for the teeth. And I have to say, I always had great teeth - until the Air Force let their dentists practice on all of us.
Wow. Memory storm. Mama on the mind.
Believe it or not, I owe almost all of my current manuscripts (the ideas, the characters, the settings - everything) to these memories. Of course, I guess most writers will say the same thing.
I read this through after I posted it on Being Free & thought that since it does have some smiles in it, it belongs here on Lotta Laughs just as well. Hope it made you smile & think of your folks.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Sometimes You Just Laugh!
I love this little piece of prose (?) and it was my friend Barb who sent it to me a while back. Still gives me the giggles.
Sometimes...
when you cry...
NO ONE sees your TEARS.
Sometimes...
when you are in pain...
NO ONE sees your HURT.
Sometimes...
when you are worried...
NO ONE sees your STRESS.
Sometimes...when you are happy...
NO ONE sees your SMILE.
*
*
*
*
*
But FART!!
just ONE time...
when you cry...
NO ONE sees your TEARS.
Sometimes...
when you are in pain...
NO ONE sees your HURT.
Sometimes...
when you are worried...
NO ONE sees your STRESS.
Sometimes...when you are happy...
NO ONE sees your SMILE.
*
*
*
*
*
But FART!!
just ONE time...
Ain't it the truth tho?
CAUTION: Be prepared to laugh out loud!
(I posted this about 3 years ago after a sis-in-law sent it to me. not sure where it came from, but I believe it's from the fabulous Erma Bombeck. I think it's worth posting again.. Another warning: it is a little bit of a long read...)
All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal - The epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now...the wax.
My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: "Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet." So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom.
It was one of those "cold wax" kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out.
(YA THINK!?!)
So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. ("Cold wax," yeah...right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works! OK, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.
With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I apply the one strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my "honey pot" and stretching down to the inside of my ass cheek (Yes, it was a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself....RRRRIIIPPP!!!!
I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!....OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!! Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. OH NO! What have I done???!!! Another deep breath and RRIIP! P!! Everything is swirly and spotted. I think I may pass out...must stay conscious...Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe...OK, back to normal.
I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip! There's no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX???
Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I am touching wax. WHAT?! I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, my "man magnet". Which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair.
Then I make the next BIG mistake...remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down. My
LIFE FLASHES BEFORE ME!!!!!! I hear the slamming of a cell door. Kooter? Sealed shut! Ass?? Sealed shut! Both sealed tighter than
Fort Knox!!!
I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself "Please don't let me get the urge to Shit! My head may, quite frankly, just pop off!"
What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!!!
I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right??? WRONG!!!!!!!
I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit.
Now, the only thing worse than having your ass and nether regions glued together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub...in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax.
So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cement-epoxied myself to the porcelain!!
God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!!
I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation starter -
"So girlfriend, my ass and "kitty" are glued together to the bottom of the tub!"
There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, "Are we talking your ass and crotch?" She must be reveling in humor and wantsme to repeat it for her enjoyment.
She's laughing out loud by now...I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else's night.
While we go through various solutions. I resort to scraping the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better then to have your "man hole" girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!!
By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.
My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace....the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on my cooch, and
OH MY GOD!!!!!!!
The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend.
It's sooo painful, but I really don't care.
"IT WORKS!! It works!!"
I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair....THE HAIR IS STILL THERE.......ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!! Looking like an Osama Bin Laden gotee!
So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.
Next week I'm going to try hair color.....
Now that's funny ........ Notttttttttt.
Send this on to other ladies who need a good laugh!
When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left and I could say, "I used everything that you gave me"~Erma Bombeck
(Thanks, Erma - I just know you have them up there rolling with laughter in Heaven!)
All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal - The epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now...the wax.
My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: "Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet." So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom.
It was one of those "cold wax" kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out.
(YA THINK!?!)
So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. ("Cold wax," yeah...right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works! OK, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.
With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I apply the one strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my "honey pot" and stretching down to the inside of my ass cheek (Yes, it was a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself....RRRRIIIPPP!!!!
I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!....OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!! Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. OH NO! What have I done???!!! Another deep breath and RRIIP! P!! Everything is swirly and spotted. I think I may pass out...must stay conscious...Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe...OK, back to normal.
I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip! There's no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX???
Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I am touching wax. WHAT?! I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, my "man magnet". Which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair.
Then I make the next BIG mistake...remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down. My
LIFE FLASHES BEFORE ME!!!!!! I hear the slamming of a cell door. Kooter? Sealed shut! Ass?? Sealed shut! Both sealed tighter than
Fort Knox!!!
I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself "Please don't let me get the urge to Shit! My head may, quite frankly, just pop off!"
What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!!!
I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right??? WRONG!!!!!!!
I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit.
Now, the only thing worse than having your ass and nether regions glued together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub...in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax.
So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cement-epoxied myself to the porcelain!!
God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!!
I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation starter -
"So girlfriend, my ass and "kitty" are glued together to the bottom of the tub!"
There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, "Are we talking your ass and crotch?" She must be reveling in humor and wantsme to repeat it for her enjoyment.
She's laughing out loud by now...I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else's night.
While we go through various solutions. I resort to scraping the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better then to have your "man hole" girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!!
By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.
My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace....the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on my cooch, and
OH MY GOD!!!!!!!
The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend.
It's sooo painful, but I really don't care.
"IT WORKS!! It works!!"
I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair....THE HAIR IS STILL THERE.......ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!! Looking like an Osama Bin Laden gotee!
So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.
Next week I'm going to try hair color.....
Now that's funny ........ Notttttttttt.
Send this on to other ladies who need a good laugh!
When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left and I could say, "I used everything that you gave me"~Erma Bombeck
(Thanks, Erma - I just know you have them up there rolling with laughter in Heaven!)
Funny Or Mean?
I usually do not make fun of the way people look, but I was over at Oddee and saw their 20 Ugliest Celebrities... Okay. Not all those folk look so bad to me, but this one just about scared the crap outta me:
Oh. My. Word.
As I understand it, this guy, Shane MacGowan is not only physically unattactrive, but has a personality to match. I'm just saying what I HEARD, y'all. I HEAR that he was thrown out of a band for "unprofessional behavior." Whatever. I just found him to be one of the oddest looking people I have ever seen.
The strangest person on the Oddee list was that lady Jocelyn Wildenstein. I mean, she didn't start out looking the way she does - she pulled a Michael Jackson and willingly had surgeries to get that look. Damn. (And don't even get me started on MJ. I used to be so in love him back in the "Ben" and "Dancing Machine" days...)
But, yeah, I do feel a little mean for cracking on that Shane guy. After all, he was born with his looks - and he must have some inner beauty for pursuing a musical talent. But Michael and Jocelyn... For shame.
The other folks on the list aren't really all that bad (or at least not by any fault of their own). They just have the usual problems we all worry about when getting a picture taken: bad angles, bad hair, bad makeup, poor lighting - or in Amy Winehouse's case, poor choices. I can get mad at her. All that damn talent and no common sense...
Okay, now that I got that out of my system, I promise to try being much nicer. I will try to not make fun of people for their looks. Not because I'm such a nice lady, but because they do it so much better over at C & D. You will make yourself sick laughing at their take on the folks here and here. You might not be proud of yourself, but you will laugh.
As I understand it, this guy, Shane MacGowan is not only physically unattactrive, but has a personality to match. I'm just saying what I HEARD, y'all. I HEAR that he was thrown out of a band for "unprofessional behavior." Whatever. I just found him to be one of the oddest looking people I have ever seen.
The strangest person on the Oddee list was that lady Jocelyn Wildenstein. I mean, she didn't start out looking the way she does - she pulled a Michael Jackson and willingly had surgeries to get that look. Damn. (And don't even get me started on MJ. I used to be so in love him back in the "Ben" and "Dancing Machine" days...)
But, yeah, I do feel a little mean for cracking on that Shane guy. After all, he was born with his looks - and he must have some inner beauty for pursuing a musical talent. But Michael and Jocelyn... For shame.
The other folks on the list aren't really all that bad (or at least not by any fault of their own). They just have the usual problems we all worry about when getting a picture taken: bad angles, bad hair, bad makeup, poor lighting - or in Amy Winehouse's case, poor choices. I can get mad at her. All that damn talent and no common sense...
Okay, now that I got that out of my system, I promise to try being much nicer. I will try to not make fun of people for their looks. Not because I'm such a nice lady, but because they do it so much better over at C & D. You will make yourself sick laughing at their take on the folks here and here. You might not be proud of yourself, but you will laugh.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Roy D. Mercer (he'll whup a man)
Long time ago, I worked with a lady named Barb. We had night jobs & our work was pretty tedious. BUT - there were never a lot of bosses around, so we could lighten up a little and find ways to make the time pass more pleasantly. (Remember those days? When you could hate your job without guilt? Nowadays, you have to be so thankful to HAVE a job, you don't dare get petty...)
Anyway, one of the ways we managed to get through the heavy workloads was to listen to music or talk radio. We had to cut out the talk radio when co-workers began fighting over whether Art Bell was insane or not. (A couple of the employees were nervous everytime Art mentioned possible proof that the world really was on the brink of alien take-over. Yeah.) We did all right listening to music until the country music lovers got into it with the rap devotees who had already threatened to kick the butts of the Whitney Houston/Celine Dion clique. Finally, it was Barb who came to the rescue. She introduced all of us to Roy D. Mercer.
What can I say? The Area-51 followers made peace with the non-believers and the country music fans were buddies once again with the rest of the music gangs. All thanks to the hilarious recordings of prank phone calls made by ol' Roy. With Roy, you had the tough talk, the down-home twangy accent, the hilariously daring pranks... What's not there for all of us to love?
You have to visit the official site to get the full taste, but here are some of my fave "Royisms" (see that link on his site at the menu on the bottom):
Anyway, one of the ways we managed to get through the heavy workloads was to listen to music or talk radio. We had to cut out the talk radio when co-workers began fighting over whether Art Bell was insane or not. (A couple of the employees were nervous everytime Art mentioned possible proof that the world really was on the brink of alien take-over. Yeah.) We did all right listening to music until the country music lovers got into it with the rap devotees who had already threatened to kick the butts of the Whitney Houston/Celine Dion clique. Finally, it was Barb who came to the rescue. She introduced all of us to Roy D. Mercer.
What can I say? The Area-51 followers made peace with the non-believers and the country music fans were buddies once again with the rest of the music gangs. All thanks to the hilarious recordings of prank phone calls made by ol' Roy. With Roy, you had the tough talk, the down-home twangy accent, the hilariously daring pranks... What's not there for all of us to love?
You have to visit the official site to get the full taste, but here are some of my fave "Royisms" (see that link on his site at the menu on the bottom):
- I'm gonna wipe the floor with ya, then whup yer a** for not gettin' in the corners.
- I'll kick yer a** so hard you'll have to clear yer throat to fart.
- I'm gonna be on you like a wet fart on satin undies
- You ain't bigger than a pop corn fart
If I Gotta Get In Trouble....
If I'm in trouble for laughing at the little gospel-singing kid, I might as well be in deeper trouble.
Actually, I was in the room with church-going folk when I first saw this video & they all laughed a lot harder than I did. (Okay, they didn't laugh any harder, but church folk are just a little louder than us holiday service people.) I could only find this as shown on Bloopers, but I remember watching the actual show when it happened.
When you watch this one, tell me who you think is funnier - the singer or the two hosts who are wetting themselves in laughter...
Actually, I was in the room with church-going folk when I first saw this video & they all laughed a lot harder than I did. (Okay, they didn't laugh any harder, but church folk are just a little louder than us holiday service people.) I could only find this as shown on Bloopers, but I remember watching the actual show when it happened.
When you watch this one, tell me who you think is funnier - the singer or the two hosts who are wetting themselves in laughter...
That's just ... wrong
Everybody was all over Mac Daddy ( Daddy Mac - or whoever he was... You know - that guy from Kriss Kross) and poor old Bobby Brown yesterday. The giggles were about the Mac's hair & Bobby's back... um, um um... That and a bunch of other hilarious-ness from over at Word Izz. Then I had to fall out laughing about a pic of Jay Z from back when his teeth were just... I dunno. Something was going on with dental problems in that boy's case. Good thing he's got all that money and a cute wife to keep him looking somewhat better. (I won't even talk about the post they had from back in December - something about Ice Cube's kid and her teeth.)
And I have to post this one for my husband. He thinks this is one of the funniest things he's ever seen. I guess because he is a church musician... It is funny & have posted it on other blogs, but somehow I just know that I'm going to have to answer to the Lord for laughing. If you can watch it without laughing, please let me know how you managed it!
And I have to post this one for my husband. He thinks this is one of the funniest things he's ever seen. I guess because he is a church musician... It is funny & have posted it on other blogs, but somehow I just know that I'm going to have to answer to the Lord for laughing. If you can watch it without laughing, please let me know how you managed it!
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