Martini Cartwheels

Every day, and I mean every day, "Anne from Account Services" calls my cell phone and home phone telling me that this is the final offer for me to lower my credit card rates. Some days I hang up. Some days I press 1 for an account representative and I talk gibberish. One day I pressed 1, placed the phone in the desk drawer and repeatedly opened and shut it hoping they would get the message. I have asked them to stop. They call me while I am at work, they call me while I am home. Today they called me on my cell phone at 2:00pm and on my home phone at 2:03pm. And then they called me back at 4:30pm. During the last call I pressed 1 and when the account representative came on the line I asked "Whatcha wearing hot stuff?". To which she replied "Ohhhhh whacha you wearing?" which only served to piss me off even more. I got scared as she sounded like she may have been calling me from a maximum security prison (I will not be your bitch Anne!).  I put the phon...

Holy  REO   Speedwagon  Batman, it time for me to fly to my class reunion again. The following is an excerpt from a blog post I wrote back in 2007, slightly revised. Here goes my practice run: "Hey  CJ , I have five boys. What about you, any kids?" "No, I hate kids. You can't legally crate them like you can dogs.  Ughhh , what I meant to say was I just plain forgot to have them. That's why I look so much younger than you.  Ummm , no really, I love kids. It's just that I have awesome great nieces and nephews and I can play with them when ever I want and then I can return them. ( CJ  thinking - I'm in really deep you know what now). Hey, that's a great dress you're wearing. Husband? Oh no. None worthy. Actually I like girls. Yeah, it was a shock to me too. ( CJ  thinking again - Oh &^%$*, why did I bother coming here). Springfield College. No, I didn't major in PE. Correct, I said I had dogs, not cats. Why yes, this is the same hair sty...

In case you are a first time visitor or perhaps have forgotten, Irene, my 87 year old mother, resides in a nursing home. And she is not very happy. On one of my recent visits the issue of the day was her bra. It was the kind with the underwire, something I myself find only slightly more comfortable than having a root canal. Apparently, even though Irene says she hates the food at the nursing home, she has somehow manage to gain about 30 pounds since living there, making said bra a little bit snug. I helped her remove the offending undergarment to offer some relief. This of course led to issue #2. "What will I wear when I go out to the TV room tomorrow? I can't wear that bra. It is too uncomfortable." I changed the conversation -  which somehow quickly switched back to "What will I wear when I go out to the TV room tomorrow? I can't wear that bra. It is too uncomfortable." So like any good daughter, I took off my bra, right then and there. I remove...

Our good friend McMeaty came by with a little surprise for us - a bottle of bacon infused vodka. He suggested we try it in a Bloody Mary, which of course started the wheels turning in my head. What else could we concoct with this stuff? Fill a shot glass with bacon vodka and layer the top with Vermont maple syrup (the good stuff). I would call this shot "Breakfast". Line a rocks glass with iceberg lettuce, pour in 3 ounces of bacon vodka, and float a slice of tomato on the top. I would name this drink "Lunch". Take one scallop, place into a shot glass. Add once ounce bacon vodka. I call this one "Scallops Slapped in Bacon".  Fill a martini glass with meatloaf. Top with ketchup and bacon vodka. This drink would probably make you sick. We won't call it anything. Your ideas?

Here's just a note of caution.  If you ever go to the Big E with me and I ask you to pose on one leg while making a pawing motion with your hand and arm, I would suggest you ignore me. Also, the sheep called for you. She wants to know when you need your shirt back.

It seems like every post lately starts with "wow, I can't believe it's been this long since I blogged." Things got a little crazy with work the past couple of months. I pushed myself too hard, got run down, and then got pneumonia*.  I'm still feeling the effects with my energy levels but I'm trying to be good by going to bed early and not putting in so many hours at work. Anyway, enough with the boring stuff. Let's move on to a really exciting topic. Here's Bo Bo the Trash Mouth Clown. I was afraid to throw anything into his cake hole for fear he would grab onto my arm, pull me into the bowels of his soul, and eat me. Oh he's colorful and certainly catches your eye. I'll give him that. But I've seen one too many movies where it's not all about balloon animals and tiny cars. No thank you Mr. Bo Bo. I'd rather take my chances with the the big green plastic barrel surrounded by hornets. *Pneumonia can decreases the amount o...

You never buy beer. You just rent it. And when you are at a summer party complete with great food, awesome bands, and port-a-potties, you just know a situation will materialize worthy of a blog post. Two beers and one sweat tea in it was time. I couldn't ignore it any longer. So I trotted off to the portable toilet, opened the door, and stepped in. I prayed my thighs could hold prop me high and steady above the hole. Oh why, oh why did I look down into the sea of blue below the lid? Never, never do that. I looked over to my right. What's that strange sink with the pink soap sitting in the middle of it? That's no sink! And why is it located so close to where I need to hover?! Yuck. What if I topple over and land face first into this thing? I made it through the first round unscathed.  Round 2 came quickly, after just one more pint. Blondie headed off to the Leaning Tower of Peesa first and I hopped in line shortly after she shut the door. Blondie was kind enough...