Christmas was good this year, despite the fact that we're about to be crushed under an avalanche of chocolate. After-holiday candy sales rock, except I tend to go overboard, thinking "well, I can freeze it for later" or "they're peppermints, they last forreeever!"
Yeah right.
No chocolate that enters my house has ever seen the inside of my freezer, except in the form of ice cream. Now, it WILL sit on the table or desk for a while, because I go through craving phases, but then the ol' hormones will kick in and an entire box of Russel Stover turtles or Gertrude Hawk Smidgens will magically disappear overnight. (Coconut Custard Smidgens do not stand a chance. I have to ask the husband to hide them from me.)
I also baked this year, and thought I was doing good by giving away all but the few broken cookies. Then family and friends returned the favor with more piles of baked goods. I am a cookie monster like my dad... they're second only to cake... so those are cool. But someone sent over an entire pumpkin roll, cheesecake, and other delectables. Now, I'm not typically overweight, but who can resist anything with cream cheese in it? I gained 4 lbs in 2 weeks and I truly don't care. I'm off work for a month and I'm hibernating, so there.
Yesterday, I realized I was tired of sweets. Yes, really. I was having a serious jones for cheese, meat, pasta, anything without a buttload of sugar in it. (Indirect pun intended. That's where all the sugar goes, after all.) When I stopped at the grocery for milk I was giving the eye to a can of spray cheese... one item that has never been in my house, mainly because I can't stand the stuff... but there I was, at the beginning stages of drool, contemplating E-Z Cheez. I had to get a real-food fix and fast. Had to stave it off with a tuna sammich till dinnertime.
I also realized that I got a beautiful, shiny, full-sized bottle of top shelf vodka for Christmas and I haven't even cracked it open yet. It's been chilling in the freezer because... well, pumpkin roll and vodka are a horrible combination. Trust me on this. I prefer to enjoy my vodka without any accompaniment other than a couple olives or a pepperoncini. On New Years Eve I'll be staying in, away from the crazies on the road, getting happily buzzed and surfing Teh Innernetz. I'll have the scanner on in the hope that someone, somewhere, will top the Burger-King-Hat-Wearing Drunk Goat* police call from a few years ago.
Ghirardelli Eggnog chocolate squares rock. That is all.
*Funniest thing I have EVER heard over the scanner.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
No, This Is Normal... Really
When married to a redneck, one of the things one has to get used to is the variety of things said person will bring home. And by variety, I don't mean just beer, dirt, and his strange cousin with the eye twitch, but also homemade explosives, stinkbait, weapons, and dead animals, or just parts of animals.
Take tonight, for example. I was sitting here, happily typing away, when B came in the door toting a deer leg. I just stopped what I was doing and waited. I know rifle season is over, and all edible parts of the deer he shot are present and accounted for in my freezer, so an extra entire back leg required some explanation. I also knew the story behind it probably, at this point in our marriage, would not surprise me. He dumped the skinned and still bloody leg on the counter and said, matter-of-factly, "It still has some hair on it. I'll have to clean it up." I waited. And stared at Blitzen's left haunch dripping on my freshly-cleaned countertop. Once he got out his knives, he explained.
It seems that on his way to work, B saw a man and his boy along the road with a deer. Assuming they'd hit it, he stopped to see if they needed help. They did, but not in a car-related way. The man's neighbor had hit the deer, then called the guy, who proceeded to go collect it sans any type of knife or gun. The buck had a broken leg or two and was still alive, and most folks hereabouts won't let a deer suffer if they can help it. Also, that's good meat if it wasn't a body hit.
B let the man borrow his hunting knife, the buck was dispatched, and then came the issue of how the man was going to get it home, as he didn't have his truck with him. (Not the best planning on his part, but it was a sudden thing, so whatever.) Since he lived on B's route to work, they loaded it in the bed and B dropped it off at the guy's barn. On his way home this afternoon, the same guy was standing out by the road, flagged him down, and presented him with the deer leg as thanks for the help. That's country for you.
That is why, just a short while ago, my husband was in my kitchen with a hacksaw, cutting Blitzen-butt into steaks and such and I was bagging the extra chunks to grind later. A redneck wife just does that kind of thing, you know? I also don't complain about "roadkill" as long as I know where, when, and how it was hit, and I'm fine with it because the deer didn't suffer too long. Also, it's a lot better than some of the other things he's dragged home.
Shut up. I'm exempt from that statement.
Take tonight, for example. I was sitting here, happily typing away, when B came in the door toting a deer leg. I just stopped what I was doing and waited. I know rifle season is over, and all edible parts of the deer he shot are present and accounted for in my freezer, so an extra entire back leg required some explanation. I also knew the story behind it probably, at this point in our marriage, would not surprise me. He dumped the skinned and still bloody leg on the counter and said, matter-of-factly, "It still has some hair on it. I'll have to clean it up." I waited. And stared at Blitzen's left haunch dripping on my freshly-cleaned countertop. Once he got out his knives, he explained.
It seems that on his way to work, B saw a man and his boy along the road with a deer. Assuming they'd hit it, he stopped to see if they needed help. They did, but not in a car-related way. The man's neighbor had hit the deer, then called the guy, who proceeded to go collect it sans any type of knife or gun. The buck had a broken leg or two and was still alive, and most folks hereabouts won't let a deer suffer if they can help it. Also, that's good meat if it wasn't a body hit.
B let the man borrow his hunting knife, the buck was dispatched, and then came the issue of how the man was going to get it home, as he didn't have his truck with him. (Not the best planning on his part, but it was a sudden thing, so whatever.) Since he lived on B's route to work, they loaded it in the bed and B dropped it off at the guy's barn. On his way home this afternoon, the same guy was standing out by the road, flagged him down, and presented him with the deer leg as thanks for the help. That's country for you.
That is why, just a short while ago, my husband was in my kitchen with a hacksaw, cutting Blitzen-butt into steaks and such and I was bagging the extra chunks to grind later. A redneck wife just does that kind of thing, you know? I also don't complain about "roadkill" as long as I know where, when, and how it was hit, and I'm fine with it because the deer didn't suffer too long. Also, it's a lot better than some of the other things he's dragged home.
Shut up. I'm exempt from that statement.
Sunday, December 06, 2009
Random Roundup
~I have one of those postcard-sized ad inserts in front of me, and like an 8-year-old who thinks armpit farts are hilarious, I can't stop giggling. It's an ad for mail-order discount cigarettes from one of those Indian reservations.
Actual wording on ad:
"All Of Our Butts sells a wide variety of discount cigarettes..."
"You must be 18 years or older to purchase products from All Of Our Butts..."
www.AllOfOurButts.com does not sound like a tobacco website. It sounds more like one that would stick the user in an endless loop of pop-up porn sites for gay sex. (Not that *I* would know about such things... I was searching for beef recipes, I swear.)
Am I juvenile to think this is funny? I have to admit, it's marketing that definitely gets my attention. *makes armpit fart*
~Speaking of juvenile... Facebook applications have some strange viral-marketing to get people to play their games. When someone does something in a game, they get a pre-written message to post on their wall. Some samples:
Friendguy is #1 after finishing a round in Wild Ones!
Wild Ones is a game where you conquer the animal kingdom with grenades, missile launchers and goo guns! (Does PETA know about this yet?)
Friendguy wants more friends to battle in Wild Ones, so they can enjoy blowing up adorable animals! (oh, sign me up, I just have to toast some bunnies today.)
Friendchick just tapped on the glass of her aquarium in Fish World! (How mundane. Why do I and everyone on your friends list need to know this five times a day?)
Otherchick just brushed her noble steed in FarmVile! (Yes, their script does say "Vile" and not "Ville" on that one. I think it's more accurate, myself.)
Thatdude's Holiday Tree just grew and became more festive and merry! (I had a zillion comments to add here, most involving Viagra and hanging balls, or men becoming merry when their tree grew, but... feel free to write your own.)(And again, do I really need to know this drivel?)
~Want to be a 12-year-old girl's new bestest friend ever? Buy her a cell phone for her birthday. I have bruises from being tackled. She squealed "I LOOOOVE YOU!" I said yeah, but it's only because I spoil you. She was honest... "Yeah. But you're cool anyway." Dang kids.
Speaking of what 12-year-olds think is cool... she wanted music for her birthday, so I spent a couple hours checking out her song list and listening to clips. (i.e. was reminded that I'm frickin' old.) Who are these people, and why are they popular again? Admittedly, I discovered I like Lady Gaga, and I also had to give the kid props for having a few 80s tunes on there. But I flat-out refused to buy Kanye or Mariah Carey. One's an ass and the other gives me (and every small animal within miles) instant headaches. Kid thought I was so awesome because I asked her to play some Black Eyed Peas for me. I heard 'em on an Oprah youtube clip... kills the awesome factor, eh?
~Yesterday was our first "real" snow here. There is no prettier winter day than a first-snow day, when everything looks like it's covered in frosting and the air is cold and crisp and a cup of coffee tastes better than anything. The world stand out with stark contrasts of black trees, red barns and pure white fluff. There is no mud or slush yet, no black exhaust stains on the snow along the roads, and no giant dirty snowplow piles every hundred yards. Yesterday was a picture postcard of gorgeousness. One of the kids, who was skeptical about living in a place where it gets below 40 degrees, came inside covered with snow from head to toe and announced "I LOVE Pennsylvania!!!" Yeah, me too, kiddo. (Just wait till you learn to drive, though.) I suspect it was because he has a new form of ammo to throw at his sisters. Never enough of that for a 7-year-old.
~Layoffs at work are imminent. Despite the loss of income, I'm looking forward to it. Maybe I'll have normal dreams again, instead of ones involving scoping out whiteflies on poinsettias with a jeweler's loupe. Seasonal layoffs happen at this time every year. Sometimes I'm not on the list, but usually I am for at least a couple weeks... this year I'm kind of hoping for the full layoff until mid-February or beyond. Sounds odd, especially with the crazy economy and unemployment rate... I should be happy to have a job, I suppose... but after 10 1/2 years I'm just so burned out that I don't care. There is not one part of my body that doesn't hurt on a daily basis. My hips are out of whack, my hands look like road maps of Los Angeles (they dry out and crack from water exposure) and my feet are plotting mutiny. I need some recovery time. A chiropractor, a manicure, and an acupressure massage are on my Christmas wishlist. Boob job too, but that's waited so long already that by the time I can afford one, I won't care anymore.
Anyone want to sponsor me for an extreme makeover? :-D
~Nah, really, I have nice boobs. I just want MORE of the nice. One cup size larger, to look good in low-cut shirts and sweaters. (Also to balance out my butt, which is also nice, but it gets too much attention.) A friend summed it up best when she told me her boobs had never been introduced to each other. I want mine to meet, fall in love, and give birth to cleavage.
~Sweet-tea vodka still rocks. That is all.
Actual wording on ad:
"All Of Our Butts sells a wide variety of discount cigarettes..."
"You must be 18 years or older to purchase products from All Of Our Butts..."
www.AllOfOurButts.com does not sound like a tobacco website. It sounds more like one that would stick the user in an endless loop of pop-up porn sites for gay sex. (Not that *I* would know about such things... I was searching for beef recipes, I swear.)
Am I juvenile to think this is funny? I have to admit, it's marketing that definitely gets my attention. *makes armpit fart*
~Speaking of juvenile... Facebook applications have some strange viral-marketing to get people to play their games. When someone does something in a game, they get a pre-written message to post on their wall. Some samples:
Friendguy is #1 after finishing a round in Wild Ones!
Wild Ones is a game where you conquer the animal kingdom with grenades, missile launchers and goo guns! (Does PETA know about this yet?)
Friendguy wants more friends to battle in Wild Ones, so they can enjoy blowing up adorable animals! (oh, sign me up, I just have to toast some bunnies today.)
Friendchick just tapped on the glass of her aquarium in Fish World! (How mundane. Why do I and everyone on your friends list need to know this five times a day?)
Otherchick just brushed her noble steed in FarmVile! (Yes, their script does say "Vile" and not "Ville" on that one. I think it's more accurate, myself.)
Thatdude's Holiday Tree just grew and became more festive and merry! (I had a zillion comments to add here, most involving Viagra and hanging balls, or men becoming merry when their tree grew, but... feel free to write your own.)(And again, do I really need to know this drivel?)
~Want to be a 12-year-old girl's new bestest friend ever? Buy her a cell phone for her birthday. I have bruises from being tackled. She squealed "I LOOOOVE YOU!" I said yeah, but it's only because I spoil you. She was honest... "Yeah. But you're cool anyway." Dang kids.
Speaking of what 12-year-olds think is cool... she wanted music for her birthday, so I spent a couple hours checking out her song list and listening to clips. (i.e. was reminded that I'm frickin' old.) Who are these people, and why are they popular again? Admittedly, I discovered I like Lady Gaga, and I also had to give the kid props for having a few 80s tunes on there. But I flat-out refused to buy Kanye or Mariah Carey. One's an ass and the other gives me (and every small animal within miles) instant headaches. Kid thought I was so awesome because I asked her to play some Black Eyed Peas for me. I heard 'em on an Oprah youtube clip... kills the awesome factor, eh?
~Yesterday was our first "real" snow here. There is no prettier winter day than a first-snow day, when everything looks like it's covered in frosting and the air is cold and crisp and a cup of coffee tastes better than anything. The world stand out with stark contrasts of black trees, red barns and pure white fluff. There is no mud or slush yet, no black exhaust stains on the snow along the roads, and no giant dirty snowplow piles every hundred yards. Yesterday was a picture postcard of gorgeousness. One of the kids, who was skeptical about living in a place where it gets below 40 degrees, came inside covered with snow from head to toe and announced "I LOVE Pennsylvania!!!" Yeah, me too, kiddo. (Just wait till you learn to drive, though.) I suspect it was because he has a new form of ammo to throw at his sisters. Never enough of that for a 7-year-old.
~Layoffs at work are imminent. Despite the loss of income, I'm looking forward to it. Maybe I'll have normal dreams again, instead of ones involving scoping out whiteflies on poinsettias with a jeweler's loupe. Seasonal layoffs happen at this time every year. Sometimes I'm not on the list, but usually I am for at least a couple weeks... this year I'm kind of hoping for the full layoff until mid-February or beyond. Sounds odd, especially with the crazy economy and unemployment rate... I should be happy to have a job, I suppose... but after 10 1/2 years I'm just so burned out that I don't care. There is not one part of my body that doesn't hurt on a daily basis. My hips are out of whack, my hands look like road maps of Los Angeles (they dry out and crack from water exposure) and my feet are plotting mutiny. I need some recovery time. A chiropractor, a manicure, and an acupressure massage are on my Christmas wishlist. Boob job too, but that's waited so long already that by the time I can afford one, I won't care anymore.
Anyone want to sponsor me for an extreme makeover? :-D
~Nah, really, I have nice boobs. I just want MORE of the nice. One cup size larger, to look good in low-cut shirts and sweaters. (Also to balance out my butt, which is also nice, but it gets too much attention.) A friend summed it up best when she told me her boobs had never been introduced to each other. I want mine to meet, fall in love, and give birth to cleavage.
~Sweet-tea vodka still rocks. That is all.
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