Fanny-pack spotting is so over. All the cool kids are now playing a game called "shirt or dress". And by "cool kids" I mean me.
The rules of "shirt or dress" are simple. Is that skankily dressed girl wearing a garment that is meant to be a shirt or is it really a dress? The answer? ALWAYS SHIRT. I'm not fucking kidding bitches. If I can give you your annual gyno exam from ten feet away that shit is NOT a dress!
After we returned to Miami from our cruise, BabyMama and I had about eight hours between disembarkment and when our flight left so we decided to take a tour of the South Beach Art Deco area.
There were about 30 people from three ships on the cruise and most people were, like us, just looking for somewhere to chill out for a few hours. One bitch though...OMG. Had I not still been on my vacation relaxation extravaganza high, I would have gone all kinds of stabbity on her.
From the minute we boarded the bus, she was on her cell phone. Loudly. In fact, the louder the guide talked to try and be heard over her, the louder she talked. At one point she even told her caller that "I cain't hear you, this dude be talkin' too loud". Are you fucking kidding me? The other 29 people on this damn bus just paid fifty fucking dollars to HEAR HIM TALK. That's like THE WHOLE POINT of a tour. To hear the tour guide talk. That's why they call him a GUIDE.
The tour included a two hour stop at SouthBeach so that you could eat, shop* or swim as you desired. As the guide explained to us that he'd be waiting at the corner of fifth where the TGI Fridays is, Miss Rudeness halts her conversation and demands of her companions, who'd presumably just spend several days being stuffed full of pretty much every imaginable kind of food, "Did he say Fridays? Girl, I don't care WHAT else we do, ima get me some chicken wangs!"
Who even knew that you could BUY deep fried and hot sauced chicken penises? No wonder no place else is Fridays! Castrating all those chickens takes SKILL.
*nearly all the stores were chain stores like Steve Madden, Gap, etc. BooooRRRrrring.
I still have your Starbucks gift card! Please email me your address or I'm going to go drink a big, giant pumpkin spice latte and then get all sick and roll around on my floor moaning about how I am going to die. DIE. and it will be all your fault.
My day is distinctly lacking in the view of ocean and people to bring me things. I demand a buffet, a towel animal and a drink waiter immediately.
All righty kittens, I'm packing the Worlds. Largest. Suitcase (it's pink! Woot!) and heading the the Bahama's for a few days.
Seriously. That's not a code for "rehab" or anything despite what you may have heard.
I'll be back on Tuesday, so try to behave until then.
Or, you know, not get caught. Either way.
Because M doesn't have any siblings, I worry that she'll grow up weird. Lots of only children do, you know. Siblings keep you grounded. Literally and figuratively in most cases. Mind you I don't worry enough about it to have another kid though, IN CASE MY MOTHER IS READING.
To ensure that she arrives in adulthood with the normal quotient of odd ticks and personal issues, I endeavor to recreate the sibling experience by torturing her in much the same way a sister would. For example, by making fun of her hair and her taste in boy bands. Or saying "IS THAT YOUR BOYFRIEND" every time she mentions a boys name. Also, I like to point to random ugly boys and announce that he is her new boyfriend. I steal her stuff with out asking and then whine when she takes mine. Which she does A LOT. One of my other favorite pranks are whipping open the bathroom door and doing my best impression of a slasher film victims dying scream while she's taking a dump. That one is ALWAYS hilarious. It's amazing the kid can even poop at all, really. Then of course there's the classic "I'm not TOUCHING you" sing-song as you wiggle your finger an inch from someones face. She bites though, so I've pretty much given that one up.
Recently though I've discovered the master of all ways to annoy her. Meowing. Seriously. I meow instead of answering her questions. I text her the word meow at midnight. But the best? The best in meowing in time to the song on the radio ala the Meow Mix Cats. I'm not even kidding. She goes MENTAL. The madder she gets, the louder I meow. It's the perfect crime. What can she do about it? NOTHING.
It's awesome.
And anyway, I'd hate to think she'd run out of things to tell her therapist.
(in the middle of cleaning out the garage I discover I must run to Wal-Mart, I run inside to get my purse)
Me: Want to go with me?
M: Where are you going?
Me: Wal-Mart
M: Are you going dressed like that?
(looks down at baggy jeans and oversized Seahawks teeshirt)
Me: Yes.
M: Then no way.
I'm sure you're going to be all SHUT UP, BITCH when you're half way done reading this but whatever. I don't care. I'm whining anyway because this is my blog and I can so SUCK IT. HA! Just kidding! Don't suck it! Come back here! After I whine I'm going to tell you VALUABLE INFORMATION that you will want to know! Promise!
Sister Laura is getting married in October. Even though I totally told her that these things never end well and she should just shack up with him and then she's all "but I LOOOOOVEEEE him" so whatever, don't listen to me, see if I care. The wedding is at some super fancy place and so you know what that means. Pantyhose. I KNOW. The things I do for these girls, I tell ya. But it also means Fancy Dress. And do I OWN a fancy dress? No. Well, yes. But not one that fits. As well documented within the hallowed pages of this very blog, I'm a wee bit...what's the word? Oh yeah, FUCKING VAIN. I can admit it. I'm vain. Self centered. Stuck up. You get the idea. So I started shopping already for a dress to wear. Because I'm also cheap. No, let's make that "thrifty". No! Wait! Frugal! That sounds better. I'm vain and frugal! Yes! Anyhoodle, what the fuck was I rambling on about ? I DON'T KNOW EITHER. Oh, right. Dress. I went to Ross or as my dear friend Sonia likes to call it "Goodwill" to look for a dress and you know what? I found one! I KNOW. It's Calvin Klein lined knit with gores that give it a close fitting top, boat neck and full skirt. It's even black! SCORE! So I take my treasure, stroking it and calling it my precious and pretty much making out with it right there in the aisle and skip gleefully back to the dressing room to try it on so that I can admire myself and how pretty I am in it and you know what? IT DIDN'T FUCKING FIT. I'm not even making that up. It was too big. I know, right? The TRAUMA. But fuck you, it was traumatic! I wanted that dress! WANTED WANTED WANTED and it didn't fit. I was only SLIGHTLY consoled by it being too large, because really, what girl doesn't like things to be too big rather than too small (wink, wink!) but still. Damn.
Despondently, I searched the racks for a smaller size but NOOOOO of course not. But you know what I DID find?
It's a little slice if angels singing called an "Absession Tank". It's similar to a Yummie Tummie tank like this one
see that weird looking part in the middle? That's spandex, baby. As in The Miracle Smoother Of The Gods. You wear it just like a regular layering tank and it smooths out your fat rolls. I KNOW! Didn't I tell you that you would want to know this? The Yummie Tummie is WAY out of my price range at a retail price of $82 at Dillards. Seriously. It's amazing and all but not THAT amazing.
But the Absession tank? $9 at Ross. Right? So all you girls need to run right out to your nearest Ross and go look in the "Shapewear" section for these because it is SO worth you lunch money.
You're welcome. Anything to help you eat an extra doughnut.
Hsb: Feel my face!
Me: (feels face)
Hsb: Smooth, right?
Me: yeah, actually, it's way smoother than usual.
Hsb: That's because I used one of your Venus Breeze refills! They fit my shavers handle. You should buy me some more of those.
Me: I'm pulling your man card.
Hsb: Who cares? I've got a face like a baby's butt
Me: Yes, yes you do.
Hiya Chickens!
Guess what NoBlog Sheila and I are doing? Taking pictures! Every day. I KNOW, right! We're participating in a project called Envisage (link under 'People I stalk'), where a bunch of women are submitting a picture a day (everyone elses pictures are better than mine, btw) to chronicle a year in their life. It's the second year of the project. Last years results were gorgeous.
I've created a page just for my pictures here .
Earl, who you'll notice has been added as a writer, is going to be a love and redesign my blog with tabs! and a header! and uh...whatever the hell else he decides to add. I'm the VISION here, people, not the talent.
So stay tuned for BIG! Exciting! Changes! WooHoo!
Speaking of exciting! Our winning Cinderella is I am Trish Marie! Whose wish made me all sniffly. Though that's not why she won. Here's what she wished for:
Well, hell. I wasn't going to be all sad and awwww, but then Vanessa K up there did it first. See, Emmi, my youngest daughter is deaf. She has cochlear implants, and she hears only with the processors on. But she can't wear them in water, and this kid LOVES the ocean. Like you wouldn't believe. So if I get to wish anything for one day, it would be for her to be able to swim in the ocean AND hear it. After that, I'll need that limitless credit card, and the ability to shit hundred dolloar bills. Although, imagine the paper cuts.
See? Now I wish I really did have magic powers, don't you?
Trish Marie email me your address please and I'll send your big winnings!
Happy Weekend, Kittens.
(after noticing a particularly disheveled and unattractive woman dropping her children off at school)
Me: You're so lucky to have a pretty Mom.
M: I'm ADOPTED?
Me: I hate you.
M: I know.
Dear People who move their cell phone in front of their mouth to talk and move it back to their ear to listen,
YOU ARE A DUMBASS. Have you every heard of this little technology called sound amplification? I know it's a recent development, having only been around since like 1830. This miracle of science means that even though microphone is two inches from your noise hole it can detect sound! I'm not even making this up! When you say "'Sup Bitches!" it can actually receive those syllables without being crammed down your larynx!
If you haven't heard of this technology, who are you not currently wearing mittens and a ball gag for your own safety?
If you HAVE heard of this wicked little cool transducer and you STILL are doing it then I insist you immediately procure and don a helmet and a reflective sweater. And mittens and a ball gag. And you better find a leash so that someone who doesn't eat paste and crackers for lunch can keep you from wandering into traffic.
Jeesushatesyou,
Kiki
PS. I bet you also think that if you keep pushing the elevator button the carriage comes more quickly don't you?
If you could have anything right now, but you had to give it back at dawn, what would you have?
Would you spend the day eating calorie free cake?
Would you have a credit card with no limit, would you spend it on yourself or would you pay off the national debt?
Would you spend the day in the arms of your lover basking in the sun of a tropical beach eating bacon and drinking Mai Tai's while a muscled cabana boy rubbed lotion on your back and a dozen bronzed gods fanned you with ostrich plumes?
Would you eat fifty pounds of liquid nacho cheese and roll around in 100 dollar bills?
You know what? Let's make this a contest. Leave your Cinderella wish in the comments and on Friday I'll randomly select a winner and send them a $10 gift card to Starbucks. MMMMmmm caffeine.
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