Merry Christmas, Ya DRUNK

Below is a pic of a few of my Christmas presents. I sense a theme here.

Happy Holidays!

Christmas Eve has always been when we celebrate Christmas. Crab legs, champagne, opening presents, staying up late, watching Christmas movies...and sleeping in tomorrow morning. I'm so happy the day is finally here. Time to stuff our faces and get drunk!!!!

Happy holidays everyone!

Bugs vs. Spiders

I was just sitting here watching TV when I felt a tickle on my finger. I brought my finger up and saw something black with legs. I was immediately like, "OHMAHGAWD! OHMAHGAWD!!!!" Then I realized it was a bug. I blew it off my finger, got a paper towel, picked the little guy up, and released him into the big wide world of my backyard. Good luck little guy!!!

*hugs*

But if that was a spider? The scenario would be more like:

I was just sitting here watching TV when I felt a tickle on my finger. I brought my finger up and saw something black with legs. I was immediately like, "OHMAHGAWD! OHMAHGAWD!!!!" Then I realized it was a spider. I FREAKED MY SHIT OUT, shook my hand like it was on fire, ran around like a chicken with its head cut off until I could find where I threw said spider. I grabbed a paper towel and SMASHED ITS HEAD INTO ITS ASS and declared VICTORY for all of 'Merica! Down the toilet you go, beyotch!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Why do I freak out with spiders and not bugs? They're both creepy and crawly and gross. But spiders are....bleh-bleh-peepy-chill-gross!!!

Bless their little hearts.

Throwback Thursday - Tiny Terror

I'm freezing my naynays off here in the Midwest so I thought I'd bring a little warmth to today's Throwback Thursday.

I was four years old and running amok in Ft. Lauderdale. Between my clown sunglasses and my hot little Speedo, I RULED THAT POOL.

My mother tells me we had to return home early because I was such a monster on that trip. At least I remember having a good time. I ALWAYS have a good time. Especially in my Speedo and clown shades.

I'm wearing them now, in fact....

Reason #145 Why I Need A Vacation

I just sat here for 10 minutes wondering WHO THE HELL drank some of my wine (and was ready to call up Mother and DEMAND she buy me a new bottle to replace what she drank without asking!!!) when I finally realized I had poured a glass for myself 10 minutes ago and forgot about it.

*sigh*

I think it's time for me to take a break. Someplace warm, where a hot little cabana boy is responsible for keeping track of my alcohol...

Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown

Probably around 14 years ago I spent part of my tax return on an artificial Christmas tree. I had moved back home with Mother because I was...well...KNOCKED UP and it was Christmas time so we needed a tree. Mother was always a fan of flocked trees and fancy shit of that sort but I found a great deal on a nice little artifical thing and decided we would exorcise her flocked tree demons.

I usually put up the Christmas tree the weekend after Thanksgiving (gotta deal with my holidays in order, yes?) I was literally sitting here on the Saturday after Thanksgiving thinking, "Well, hell. Gotta put the tree up this weekend. But you know what sucks? I see peeps posting effing glorious pics on Facebook of their trees. The lights are PHENOMENAL. I don't get it.  I have TWO DAMN STRANDS of lights on my tree but it still looks like a Charlie Brown Christmas tree. WTF???" At that very moment I saw a commercial for Target.

"50% OFF TREES! PRE-LIT TREES FOR $99! TODAY ONLY!!!"

Well, holy hell! Is THIS where I've gone wrong? Is pre-lit the answer??? Let's go!!!!

So I drive myself (and Mouth, kicking and screaming) up to Targhay. We found the Christmas section and there were beautiful trees on display! Pre-lit trees! Un-lit trees! OH MY WORD, TREES!

However, no trees to buy. Turns out Targhay only stocks like three trees for the lucky few who get there at 5 am. And this is no Black Friday, no way. This is SATURDAY. Bastards. I even tried to buy the display- no dice. Bless the Targhay workers' hearts. They were very sweet and helpful and admitted their corporation's marketing tactics were janky. They agreed I should take my business elsewhere.

So Mouth and I went to Walmart.

It's okay...it wasn't so bad because it was no longer Black Friday. However, the guy who helped us get the tree box down from the shelf was wearing Depends. I know this because his pants were swinging low and no one who is over like FIFTY should have pants swinging that low. Uck. Gonna need therapy for that one.

ANYHOO!!! We got a beautiful pre-lit tree. And...did I mention it was BEAUTIFUL??? I have now realized that my Facebook friends' beautiful trees were actually PRE-LIT trees. I'm so happy to finally be in the loop so I can post beautiful tree pictures on my Facebook account. Go me!!!

But we have janky ornaments. Holy hell. WHERE DO I GET PERFECT ORNAMENTS SO MY TREE LOOKS AS PERFECT AS MY FACEBOOK FRIENDS' TREES???

Good thing I avoid Pinterest. That shit would likely put me over the EDGE.

Cat Are Really Just Furry Hos

Owning a cat is like dating a psycho bitch with bipolar disorder.

Just now I scratched my cat's ear and he leaaaaaned into my hand like his life depended on it! He was like, "Yes, yes, YES! Right there, right there, don't you stop. Don't you DARE stop!!! Right, right...there...YESSSS!!!!! Okay now get the f*ck away from me. I hate you."

I'm so confused. I'm glad I could make him feel good but I don't understand why he now wants nothing to do with me.

I feel used.

Checking Mouth's Facebook

A major sign of my child growing up was when he wanted to use my birthday to create a Facebook account. That should have been my first red flag.

But I went along with it. He had some classmates on Facebook, I figured I could HEAVILY monitor...so I agreed. According to Facebook, he's now 39 years old. He wasn't really into girls so I didn't have to worry about that so I thought, What kind of trouble could he get into with his friends?

Then he tried to friend me.

Oh HELL NO.

I drew the line at that one. But from time to time I'll log into his account (oh yes, Mama has the login info AT ALL TIMES) and monitor his Facebook activity. He doesn't post a lot- again, he's not really into girls yet...more into gaming so he's not on Facebook much. Then tonight I realized it had been quite a while since I checked into Mouth's Facebook account. So I logged in.

There wasn't much posting on his part but other kids ARE MEAN! They're all posting about their classmates being fat and stupid and teachers being ASSHOLES (yes, they were typing ASSHOLES) and it brought me back to the mean kids I knew in school. It felt good that my darling child wasn't a part of this nonsense!

And then I checked his private messages.

Apparently, he had been teasing a little girl at school who had a boyfriend. A 12-year-old with a BOYFRIEND is serious shit, ya know? So the boyfriend found out and apparently wasn't very happy with Mouth. The following snapshot is an exchange of their confrontation.


Bad kid: "Wanna fight?'

Mouth: "Ya les go bro. Imma gonna PWN your ass!"

Bad kid: "Omfg. OK. Monday."

Mouth: "Nah, I'm busy on Monday. Gonna be doing something at recess then. I'm open Tuesday."


Hahahahaha!!!! Although I am APPALLED my child would agree to a fight, the reschedule due to recess activities CRACKS. ME. UP.

Granted, I called him down from his room to lecture him on the better ways of solving disagreements without fighting but a small part of me was proud he stuck up for himself...AND postponed the fight due to prior recess commitments.

Holy hell. I'm still tearing up from laughing!

Reincarnation Before Death?

The song "Royals" by Lorde. I like it. It's catchy. She's pretty, AMAZING voice, only 16 years old. But then I Googled her...and found a video of her singing live.

It's like Joe Cocker reincarnated in Rebecca Gayheart's body. Wait, is he dead yet? Good Lord. Her people need to do something about that. It's kinda ruined the song for me a little. It's like Googling "Lemon Party".

Just.

Don't.

Do.

It.

In case you want to ruin it for yourself, I've included the link below. But I am NOT including the Lemon Party link. That's all on you.

Ode to Lay's Potato Chips

You know when you open a bag of Lay's chips and the curled-over ones are on top?

I love those folded chips.

They're like miniature tacos. The way they curl over onto themselves is just delicious and...magical.

But they're only on top. Why are they only on top?

Hmmmm.......

On A Serious Note

I went to a funeral today for a little baby who died two weeks before his due date. Somehow his cord got knotted by his belly and cut off his life from his mother. It's apparently quite rare, which doesn't make his mom feel any less guilty.

His mother is on state aid. Thankfully, the state picked up the tab for the service and the plot and the tiny little white casket he was buried in. There should never be caskets that tiny. However, they didn't pay for the headstone. Apparently, they never do. As I stood behind his mom while the pastor blessed him and said the awful words of "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust" I looked out over the "Public Aid Baby Cemetary" and saw a handful of plastic spikes with namecards on them - those are the babies whose parents couldn't afford a headstone.

I always wanted to win the lottery so I could buy a sweet house in Florida or a Mercedes Benz SUV like the Jenner/Kardashians. Now I just want to win it so I can start a savings account to give those babies headstones.

I'd like to think I made a difference today by offering to buy baby Jace's headstone for my friend. It's a small offering but the other nametag garden spikes still haunt me...

Furry Little F*cker

Okay, I can admit when I'm an asshole.

I'm an asshole.

In the past, whenever I would see or hear friends lamenting about their dogs - whether they were sick or they died - I'd be all "Awww...so sad!" and then think, "Dude. It's a dog. Get over it, have kids, and feel REAL life."

And then I met Ted.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I love this stupid dog so much. He reminds me of my son when he was one year old, which was a HORRIBLE TIME because Mouth couldn't tell me if his tummy was hurting or if he was tired or whatever he was feeling. I was so happy when he started talking so I could help him feel better no matter what was bothering him.

And now I'm stuck in a perpetual time warp of loving a baby who can't tell me if his tummy hurts or if he's hungry (well, actually, he does a reallllly good job of telling me he's hungry!) I knew probably five years ago I wasn't going to have any more children, which I was cool with - and then I got Ted. He's my baby. My buddy. He follows me everywhere (except the bathroom - he stops at the threshold because he ain't dumb...he knows that's where BATHS HAPPEN.) He's sleeping against my leg as I type this blog.

I love him so much it breaks my heart because I don't ever want anything bad to happen to him...but I know I will likely outlive him. And I hate that I think about that, and I wish I could stop but he's my everything...you know?

Shit. It's probably time I started dating again, yes???

Random Quote of the Day

Nothing says 'Welcome to your new house!' like finding a pair of teeth in the bottom of your new closet.

ROOTS INTACT AND ALL.

Side note: Something this random finally didn't happen to me! It happened to a friend who also has the most random shit happen to her. She posted her find (picture and all) on her Facebook page and everyone was very comforting ("I'm sure your house is fine/burn a little sage") and I'm all, "HOLY SHIT. THAT'S AWESOME!!!!"

I'm not sure her other friends like me.

Or get my sense of humor.

F*ck 'em. THAT WAS AWESOME!!!!!

My (Latest) Pet Peeves

I let trivial shit piss me off waaaay too much. I'm hoping by compiling this list I will save a few bucks on my next therapy session.

MY PET PEEVES

*this list is directed at no one in particular...except for the chode in number 3*

1. People who are more than five minutes late
2. People who don't respond to my email
3. A dude who takes a shit in my bathroom for 40 minutes with no explanation or apology...ON OUR FIRST DATE
4. Being a douchebag
5. Parking over the lines
6. Parking backwards
7. Getting away with shit when I can't
8. Brown nosing
9. My mother
10. Whistlers
11. People who hum - I hate hummers almost as much as whistlers
12. People who won't say 'fuck' when they really want to
13. People who run marathons (just a little jealousy here...)
14. People who are 40 years old but don't have a driver's license
15. Or a job (mostly targeting men on this one)
16. Buying a dog when you don't even see your kid
17. Assholes
18. My sister (might be related to #17)
19. Cats (although I always seem to have one)
20. Judgey people
21. People who drive 10 miles under the speed limit in the left lane
22. People who slam on their brakes because you're riding their ass because they're driving 10 miles under the speed limit in the left lane
23. Shit talkers (DAMMIT, I do that)
24. People who claim to not watch tv
25. Jennifer Lopez
26. My mother
27. Friends who don't understand when you cancel because you have diarrhea
28. Cross-eyed people
29. My phone dinging with a text when I'm trying to catch five minutes of sleep before work/class (usually Mother)
30. Men
31. HAPPY FUCKING PEOPLE (at least I said fucking when I wanted to)
32. Smokers (dude...it's 2013. You smell. And you likely have bronchitis/pneumonia/emphysema...WONDER WHY!!! Plus...you smell.)
33. My mother

Anyone else?

I Miss the 80s

I've realized that as I grow older I forget things. Which is disturbing because I do puzzles and shit to ward off future dementia. Perhaps it's the alcohol....what was I saying? Oh yes...I am pleasantly surprised to see that 'Private Benjamin' is coming on in 20 minutes. I FORGOT HOW MUCH I LOVE THAT MOVIE. It's about up there with 'National Lampoon's Vacation'. I see it's rated R but I totally remember watching it as an 8-year-old. GAWD I miss the 80s! You know, when we could watch rated R movies because rated R just meant SEX and stuff???

'Hardbodies' is another one. I love that movie!!! I probably shouldn't admit that it's one of my fave movies. Jesus, my mother and her husband du jour should NOT have had HBO and Showtime in my grade school years...

(Bee tee dub, I don't have movie channels in my cable package. However, we have broadband internet so I can only IMAGINE the shit Mouth sees on a nightly basis. I'm sure he's seen Kim Kardashian nekkid. Psht...like who hasn't???)

Rags Does Beauty

We girls are always told to "wash your face at night for a beautiful complexion!" I am NOT a good nighttime face washer. Either I'm too tired...or I'm too drunk...or yeah, I'm just lazy. But holy cow I've found a miracle. One word:

BIODERMA.

I heard some good things about it so ordered a bottle off Amazon. It's French (natch) and has the consistency of water. It takes everything off (including eye makeup) with one cotton ball. Totally fast, easy to do while hammered, and Mama's complexion is gonna SPARKLE!!!! 

*This status is not sponsored by Bioderma but I would totally talk about it more if Bioderma did sponsor me. I could even break out some of my high school French. But then all I could do is say my name and ask if you'd like to have sex...*

Thinking That.....

I should have waited to do my Yoko Ono impression until I knew no coworkers were behind me.

Lesson learned.

I Should Have Named My Dog "Treat"

I love my puppy so much but the dumb dog doesn't even know his own name. Well, I think he does - he just doesn't come when called. However, he does know three words:

Eat
Treat
Dog park

(Yeah, yeah...I know dog park is two words but to Ted, it's one word.)

Ted and I were chillaxing on the couch when I realized it was time for him to eat. You'll see on the video he doesn't respond when I say his name but EAT gets his furry little butt off the couch.

Notice the tongue smack that goes on as he's trying to hoist himself over my legs.

Five More Weeks

I've been a pretty busy gal recently. I'm still working fulltime as a corporate cubicle ass kisser but have veered off in an inneresting new direction. In the last five weeks I've:

• Refreshed my CPR training (i.e., killed my knees on concrete blowing dummies)
• Gave an injection to the very brave guy who has sat next to me for the last five weeks
• Studied my ass off while running back and forth between work and class
• Learned that you CANNOT raise your blood sugar level by sticking a bottle of Honey Bear honey up your bum

For those of you who said "Rags is in nursing school"....SURPRISE!!!!! You're wrong. Turns out if you already have a bachelor's degree (me) and have enough student loans to purchase a small house (me) no one will loan you money for nursing school (me). So I went a different route - I'm in a 10-week crash-course EMT-Basic class.

Yep.

I'm at the halfway point this week. In five more weeks, I can go out there in the world and BE A HERO (or as my instructor says, "...being a hero means having a crackwhore spit in your mouth.")

I have no clue what I'm gonna do when I finish this course. I honestly can't see my ass hopping in and out of ambulances and hoisting heifers down six flights of stairs (though I think I might enjoy dodging the spittle of a crackwhore.) There are other opportunities for EMTs out there. I hope.

But the biggest downfall - and what keeps me up at night moaning, "What was I thinking???" - is the pay. The person who responds to your 911 call to help save your life makes on average $12 an hour. Let's just say I make a BUNCH more than that being a corporate cubicle ass kisser. But money can't buy happiness....

Psht. THE HELL IT CAN'T!!!! But although my soul loves its high-speed internet, it needs some much needed attention right now. And I think this is my right path for right now.

I'll be sure to revisit this post the first time someone thanks me for helping them by saying, "F*ck you!!!" and then puking on me.

Can't wait!

F*ck Chrysler

It's been a little silent here at Riches to Rags because I've been working AND going to school (more on that this weekend!) However, I wanted to take a moment and get my soapbox back out with the hope of bringing Chrysler to its knees.

Yeah, I know my readership isn't large enough to do that...but one can always hope, right? Maybe the CEO reads my blog! Or his wife! Or HIS MOM. (He's been a baaaaad boy, Mrs. CEO's mom. Lemme tell you all about it...

In the words of several mechanics I've recently had the immense pleasure to meet, EVERY CHRYSLER (including JEEPS) will at some point in its life have its evaporator core crack (a cracked evaporator core means no A/C. I realize A/C is a luxury but try getting through a humid Illinois summer without A/C. Once the thermometer hits 90 degrees, I get STABBY.) Anyhoo, it costs between $1100-$1300 in my area (central IL) to fix it. I repeat- EVERY CHRYSLER (including JEEPS) will have this issue. Why? Why does this keep happening to poor Jeeps across the nation? The world???

Chrysler knows about this issue but keeps putting a cheap, shoddy part into their cars to save money. I've had two Jeeps now- I always thought I would be a Jeep-for-life kind of girl. But I will never buy another one again- not only because they willingly put a cheap, shoddy part into their cars but because when I sent a nicely worded email explaining my story and how their shortcut can affect a single mom with not a lot of extra cash (hoping humanizing the issue would help create change) I was completely blown off with a "Your car isn't under warranty anymore. Have a good day."

Thanks a bunch to you, "Christopher, your customer service representative."

So if you own a Chrysler get ready for this charge because it WILL happen to your car sooner or later (most likely later, after the warranty runs out.) Now, with my savings gone and no money to take my kiddo on a little vacay we had planned before school starts (first time getting away in four very rough years) I will step off my soapbox. I just wanted to warn everyone I can about this well-known flaw I knew nothing about.

And I hope "Christopher, your customer service representative" gets horrible, flaming hemorrhoids. Douchebag.

Racism and Other Stuff

So apparently Paula Deen has gone and lost her job because back in 1985 she said the word "nigger". And yes, I'm spelling the word out because I think we can handle it.

We all at Riches to Rags know I'm not a huge Paula Deen fan. But this has become a big news item so OF COURSE I feel the need to contribute.

Paula Deen was raised in the South. Most white people from the South were raised referring to black people as niggers. Was it right? Hell no but ALL ethnicities have racist names attributed to them (e.g., I'm a cracker and my kid is half beaner.)  But we have to remember that people from the South are wayyyyy behind us more-educated people in many ways (my theory is it's because they lost The War so are trying to stay in their 1865 ways.) Again, it's not right but it's a fact. Bless their hearts...but they're truly behind the rest of the world in acceptance and political correctness and well...everything (and no, I don't have facts and figures. But I did date a dude from the South in college and LET ME TELL YOU...I'm right.)

So here's my story and why I feel for Paula.

I was raised in a medium-sized city by a woman who was raised in a racist tiny "sunset town". There were black kids in my schools and neighborhoods so black people weren't an issue for me. Fast forward to my teen years. My friends and I were all of 17 years old when one night we decided to get some Boone's Farm and just get silly. We ended up at a black friend's apartment complex and just went buckwild!

"OH MAH GOSH, how much fun would it be to knock on people's doors and run???? SO. MUCH. FUN." Afterward our friends at the apartment are all like, "Dude, what the hell are you girls up to???" And I'm all giggling and I say, "Hahahaha!!! We nigg....." And then I stopped. Because what I was going to say was, "Hahahaha!!! We nigger knocked these people's doors!" But it hit me. The word "nigger". Holy shit! This was a phrase I grew up with. You knock, you run, it was nigger knocking. I never knew it as anything else...but I knew right then how wrong it was.

To this day, I have no clue why it was called that. It was something taught to me as a child. A phrase of hate - but it was so ingrained in me that I didn't even know it was wrong until I was 17 years old.

Again, not excusing Paula and her pathetic apologetic videos but I unfortunately understand where she comes from and how hate can be so embedded in people that they don't even know it's wrong.

(However, I wouldn't excuse anyone now for their hatred - remember that southern boy I dated in college? We tried to pick it back up again a few years ago but I realized he was still as racist and hateful as before - and I couldn't stomach it.)

It's 2013. There's no room for hate, whether against people of a different color, people of a different sexual orientation - or hell, OF ANYONE. Hate sucks. Get over it. I have no room for small-minded people who can't handle anyone different than they are.

Hopefully Paula has learned that the hate she was raised with was wrong. I think she has. Now she just needs a good PR person.

Random Trivia

Honey is made from BEE VOMIT???????

Not sure how I'm going to process that.

I need some time alone.

Trivia (and Motherhood) Win

Let me just say I am SO EFFING STOKED because I just won a trivia game because I was the only player to get ALL questions correct on identifying which given name is A) a Mexican state or B) a Star Wars planet.

One might surmise, "Oh, Rags is a Star Wars fan? I surely didn't see that one coming!" Nay, nay children - no worries. I am NOT a Star Wars. However, I am finally grateful I experienced 2 1/2 years of TORTURE listening to Mouth drone on and on (and on and on) about that movie - so much so that I wanted to SHOVE HOT SKEWERS IN MY EARS just to stop the blah-blah-Luke-Skywalker-Tatooine-blah-blah-Darth Vader-Hoth-Naboo-blah-blah crap I endured for-EVER.

[Okay...in order not to alienate my Star Wars fans, I watched the movie when I was like 7 years old, mildly enjoying it mostly because I dug Princess Leia's bun thingys (which I totally tried to copy as a child - and once or twice at Halloween as an adult.) But I just never understood the utter fascination (read: obsession) The Kid had with this stupid movie! (I've since learned it's a "guy thing.")]

Anyhoo, I thanked Mouth for torturing me - or rather, enlightening me - about Star Wars because thanks to him I won a meaningless trivia game.

Which is about all I got going for me right now so BOOYAH BITCHES!!!!!!

Things That Make You Go Hmmm....

Hmmm.....something's missing. What is it? Oh, this is gonna bug me all night.

WAIT. Got it.

Me so horny! Me love you long time!!!

Phew. Thank gawd it wasn't something WHOLLY inappropriate to put on Grandma's car or anything.

Dinner with Strangers

I was recently asked whom I'd like to meet if given the chance. I had to think about it...so many choices! I mean, seriously- we got the reality garbage I love (my pick would be Caroline Manzo of Real Housewives of New Jersey) and the reality not-so-garbage I love (I'd pick Spike Medelsohn of Top Chef). But real people? Okay.

I wish Grace Kelly was still alive. She'd be my number one. But her spoiled daughter ruined that one. Thanks, Stephanie!

Ouch. Too soon?

Anyhoo, I'd pick Lauren Bacall. She's the epitome of style and grace to me. We witnessed her falling in love with Bogie in "To Have and Have Not", where she taught Steve to whistle: "You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve? You just put your lips together and...blow." Mee-OW! She knew how to be sexy without taking off her clothes or being vulgar. Love that era.

But Lauren probably wouldn't want to meet Rags. Rags can be a tad vulgar.

So my second pick is Jenny McCarthy. We're both from Illinois, we're both GORGEOUS (okay, okay...she has a little edge over me) and we're both funny as hell. At least we think we are.

Whom would you like to meet???

Reality Check

Mother and I just got into a heated argument because she locks her front door WITH THE DOOR KNOB LOCK THINGY. Dude. It's 2013. Why do they even still HAVE door lock thingies on door knobs???

One might ask, doesn't the poor thing have a deadbolt? Why YES, she does! But she still locks the door knob whenever she leaves. I, personally, have busted into her apartment no less than three times in the last two years for various reasons - thus proving her door knob lock is a JOKE. I mean, doesn't the woman watch 'The First 48'? There are crazy people out there. Like me!

And this is the same woman I entrust to get my son to and from school every day. Did I mention how two weeks ago her car broke down on the way to school and some strange dude pulled over and offered a ride to Mother and Mouth? And HOW SHE TOOK IT??? Good thing she had a cell phone on her to call any of the probably 20 relatives or neighbors we have here in our small town...right?

*end sarcasm*

Jesus. No wonder I drink so much.....

Ancient Chinese Secret

This is how my coworker eats her french fries.

She's from China and is very dainty. She unabashedly wears fur and confidently wears black pants with brown foxhide boots. She snacks on bamboo and brings her own lunch - which usually looks (and smells) like dead worms or shriveled up testicles. Her fave drink is whiskey and green tea...go figure.

We have to explain words and phrases we say, like "get a backbone!" or "get rid of that guy - he's desperate and creepy!" or "don't be a tease!" I especially enjoyed hearing my coworkers explain the phrase "what a douchebag!" to her.

She's a very sweet, unassuming girl...so it was quite a surprise when we found out about her black market business where she employs people here in America to buy Apple products so she can sell them in China at a 300% profit. She told us she wants to shoot something - ANYTHING -  because hunting is illegal in China. And she doesn't understand why we CAN'T JUST BRIBE the U.S. government to get our project filed with the SEC and be done with it!

She scares me a little.

I think she's a ninja.

And I want to be JUST like her when I grow up!

Note To Self

I probably should have Googled the difference between 'Ben Wa balls' and 'Baoding balls' before I scared the shit out of my coworker who just received a gift from our Chinese coworker....

Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon

So we all know the game, yes? According to Wikipedia (i.e., Zee Bible) "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon" is a parlor game based on the "six degrees of separation" concept, which posits that any two people on Earth are, on average, about six acquaintance links apart. That idea eventually morphed into this parlor game, wherein movie buffs challenge each other to find the shortest path between an arbitrary actor and venerated Hollywood character actor Kevin Bacon."

Ever since Facebook came along, I am FASCINATED by how many of my friends know each other. Seriously, I have a college friend from Florida who knows a chick I knew at an Illinois summer camp. It boggles my mind!

I have a few 'Kevin Bacon' people. Shocking, I know, as I live in the Midwest and nothing awesome happens here so I must preface this post by saying I have family in Southern California so they are mostly my 'Kevin Bacon' links.

Okay here we go:

Michael Jackson- My uncle is a composer and wrote songs for the Jackson 5.

Edith Head- I know, she's dead. But my aunt was her main model. Think Cindy Crawford of the 1960s.

Mark McGrath- My cousin is friends with him (and I could probably claim about 200 'Kevin Bacon's on this kid because he was a KIIS-FM DJ in LA and hosted a show on VH-1...so yeah.)

Jenny McCarthy- She's from Chicago so we're no more than 3 degrees apart.

Melissa McCarthy- She's Jenny's cousin - again, 3 degrees at most.

Fabio from Top Chef- My former coworker just met him at a book signing. That's 2 degrees.

Donnie Wahlberg- A chick from my high school supposedly slept with him. Totally 2 degrees.

(Did I mention I was from the Midwest? Things are slow here...)

What about you all? I know we got some inneresting Kevin Bacon Degrees out there. If anyone has actually MET Kevin Bacon, I'll give a prize!!! (But don't be too excited...it'll probably be cheap liquor. Or a signed photo of yours truly. I'd personally opt for the liquor. But you get bragging rights in the comments section!!!)

Lemme hear it...who ya know???

Neighborly Love

Hey, lady in the apartment two doors down from me...

Throwing food over your little back fence and into our neighbor's yard is tacky. So what if you're feeding rabbits or wildlife or whatever the hell lives in Betty's yard, Betty has to look out every night after dinner and see food thrown in her yard. You have a garbage can as well as a nasty boyfriend who looks like he would eat raw sewage if given the chance.

Rude, rude, tacky.

Btw, when I take my dog out back he licks clean your spatula that's hanging off your grill.

And I let him.

Welcome to the neighborhood.

Professional Tip #542

If you're emailing someone you don't personally know, and you can't tell from their name if they are male or female - DON'T PUT MR. BEFORE THE LAST NAME.

And it's ALWAYS a man who does it. Ignorant douchebags.

*Is it obvious I've received more than one "Dear Mr. Rags" emails this week? Didn't think so...

I Hate It When...

I'm digging through my coin purse for soda money, and I only have like one quarter so then I move on to dimes. I find five dimes so then I move on to nickels...and I'm mentally counting the change until I hit $1.35...and then I find a quarter and HAVE TO START MY COUNTING ALL OVER AGAIN.

I know, I know. First-world problems.

Angels and Donkeys

This is an ad on my Facebook page. I have a few issues.

Beyond my usual ones.

First, does this mean the chick with the huge ass is ugly? I mean, I can't see her face. She could be Kim Kardashian, who has a pretty face but a hella huge ass. In fact, I know a few guys who would appreciate that onion REGARDLESS of her face. Girl, work that Donkey Booty!!! (And yes, I'm Team Phaedra...)

Second, ugly girls "need love too"? So do ugly guys. And douchebags. And gay people. Go marriage equality! We ALL need love. This implies that ugly women don't get love, which is totally wrong because I, as a single woman, notice a LOT of ugly women who are married. Which pisses me off until I think, "Would I marry her husband? Hell to the NO." Case closed.

Lastly, her ass ain't that bad. I mean, yeah it's gargantuan - but do YOU see cellulite? I sure don't, and THAT'S a miracle of God with that junk in the trunk. This woman is either photoshopped or an angel.

Holy shit.

IT'S KIM KARDASHIAN'S GUARDIAN ANGEL.

Happy Birthday!

Thirteen years ago today my life changed for the better (well...MOST days it's for the better!) Not much of a difference having a teenager in the house as he's acted like a 21-year-old frat guy since about age 10.

Happy birthday, Mouth. Ted and I love ya!

Ucky Ucky Poo Poo

Guys. I get that you can grown facial hair. Woo go you! But just a word of advice from a single girl looking to mingle...

Wait to grow the beard until you're married.

I can only only imagine how liberating it must feel to quit shaving and grow all the hair out on your face. Hell, I personally cherish wintertime when I don't have to shave my legs every three days. It's fab to see what the human body does when unbridled, yes?

Um, yeah. A beard is a WHOLE other animal.

I'm sorry but...it's gross. It's SO NASTY I can't even begin to tell you. And your girlfriend may be all, "Awww, you look cute!" No, you don't. You look gross and ucky. And those girlfriends who tell you it looks cute are desperate to be married. They'll say anything to get the ringy on the fingy - even if they're throwing up in their mouth a little bit every time they see that NASTY ASS BEARD on your face. Especially if the carpet doesn't match the drapes.

SO...stay clean until you're married. Once you get the whole legally-binding-til-death-do-us-part thing going on, then go on which your bad self and grow that shit out. But I guarantee you your now-wife won't be so enamored with the fuzz.

Just sayin'.

There's More Than One Way to Skin a Cat

I have an old kitty named Toph (as in the cartoon 'Avatar', for those who never spent several hours a day watching cartoons because their child ruled the house AND the remote.) She is almost 14 years old. She's been sick for two years - essentially starving to death even though she eats like a hog. She even ate the dog's food, which confused him more than pissed him off.

I have spent several hundred dollars in recent weeks trying to help her feel better and find what's ailing her. The vet can't figure it out and wanted to "go invasive." I thought, she's an old kitty...she's had a good run...and I'm not dishing out two grand for her to die in exploratory surgery. So I made the decision to put her down.

The vet kept telling me how he could do this and that and send her to "the university" (???) before we finally had a 'Come to Jesus' meeting where I explained my thoughts on Toph's remaining days. He agreed with me that she was suffering, and we set the appointment for the next day.

As I sat at work that day, I was vascillating between feeling relieved because Toph would no longer be in pain (and I would no longer have to pay Mother to clean up cat diarrhea twice a day) and feeling terrible for ending a life - albeit an animal's life. Then a thought popped into my head: how much is this going to cost? Because I just spent $250 on the latest round of blood work for that dumb cat...how much will they charge me for killing her???

I started Googling (natch) and saw figures like $500. I thought, nuh UH! I'm not spending $500 to put my dying cat to sleep. She's down to only six pounds...how much sleeping medicine would it take??? So I OF COURSE turned to an expert.

My coworker, German.

(Yes, that German...of the sweater vest fame.)

Me: "German, what if the vet charges me five hundred bucks to put my cat down? I can't pay that. What do I do?"

German: "What??? You better Google that shit. Google "how to kill your cat at home". I GUARANTEE you people have not only searched that but have answers."

I couldn't do it. Not only because we were at work, and I can only imagine the warning bells going off in IT as I typed in the phrase "killing my cat" into my work computer but because she was my kitty...and I loved her...even though she went diarrhea everywhere. So I started Googling on my phone.

German: "Dude. I found it. They say the best thing is to build a CO chamber in your home. Not sure about the legality of it but still...you could tell the cops it's a pizza oven! Charge the neighbors when they need their pets killed."

Me: "Stop it!!! Wait. Here's something: 'I wonder how much money my vet's going to screw me out of if I ever have to have my little Rockmeowmadeus put to sleep when he's old and dying'..."

German: "Wait, wait, WAIT! Did you just say Rockmeowmadeus???"

Me: "Ha, yeah?"

German: "That's the BEST name! I'm going to get a cat JUST so I can name it Rockmeowmadeus."

Me: "What the hell? You don't like animals. You're Googling how to kill my cat!"

German: "I know! But that would be SO COOL!"

Needless to say, I took my kitty to the vet to be put down. They only charged $75 and were very sweet as I sobbed over her dead body because of the guilt I felt that I made the decision for her to die. But when I got home, Mouth and I agreed it was the right choice because she was miserable - and I felt much better.

Until two days later when the vet sent me a CONDOLENCE CARD. Assholes. And so ensued another round of sobbing.

Now I'm just waiting for German to get little Rockmeowmadeus. And then when his kitty gets sick I'M going to be the insensitive bastard and Google how to kill his cat at home.

Although I'm sure he will have the CO chamber already built as he would use the shit out of it as a pizza oven until it's needed.

Bless his heart.

Random Thoughts

Just got back from the grocery store. Gone are the days when I could get $90 in groceries for $7. Now I pay $90.

DAMN YOU, GAINFUL EMPLOYMENT!!!!

What A Bitch. I'm So Proud Of Her!!!

Back when Mouth was a baby, I lived in my current Armpit hometown while I finished my bachelor's degree. In fact, I lived with Mother in the same shitty apartment I now reside in.

That last sentence will keep me in therapy for two years MINIMUM.

Anyhoo, back when I lived with Mother there was an apartment building next door owned by an older couple whose son managed the apartments. Their son, Derwin, was probably 20 years older than me and had a monster crush on me. Bless his heart...I'm all into sugar daddies but this guy was CREEPY.

Fast forward 10 years, his parents have passed so he now owns the building next door (and the other buildings his parents owned.) When I moved back here nearly two years ago, Mother mentioned, "You know, Derwin owns the apartment building next door. AND he's still single! Are you sure you aren't interested???"

Well, let's see...no job, lost my house, have no life, um...nope. Still not interested in Derwin!

Fast forward two years. I've been recently reminiscing about the food stamps and state health insurance I received until I found my recent nice paying job...especially now that I have to pay for all that stuff myself again. Bummer.

Texting Mother tonight:

Me: "I'm sick of working. I need a sugar daddy. I'm happy with getting state food and medical aid while unemployed but I need someone to make my Jeep payment. Is Derwin still available?"

Mother: "Holy crap are you goofy? Derwin??? Actually yes he is available and still in love with you!"

Me: "haha no he's not! What do you think his income is? Think he'd be okay with me being a stay at home mom with a kid and a dog?"

Mother: "He is pretty rich. He wouldn't want you to work because someone might steal you away."

Me: "Sweet! I can handle that!"

Mother: "But you better buy a lot of paper bags. One for him and one for you in case his falls off."

Me: ".....Wth? Are you calling me ugly? Did you just actually say he would need a bag for me too????"

Mother: "Well...you aren't 25 anymore."

Me: "WHAT THE F*CKETY F*CK???"

Mother: "I'm kidding! I mean in case his falls off then you can't see him because you have yours on. Okay?"

Um...WHAT A BITCH!!! She just totally called me ugly! But then again, I couldn't be more proud because I'm still laughing my ass off at her audacity. I mean, we're talking about The Church Lady, people!

So proud.

*wiping tears*

But what a bitch!

Closer to Normal

I love expensive stuff.

Back when I worked for the Yellow Beast (i.e., the Corporate Devil) I had a very well-paying job. But I hated it with all my heart so I self-medicated.

With expensive goodies.

Purses, shoes, makeup, jewelry - I treated myself to pricey goodies on a regular basis.

When I lost my job, I had to lose the expensive taste as well. Out went the purses and shoes, the Tiffany credit card was cut in half, and I began buying "economical" beauty products. However, I found that more often than not "economical" was poorspeak for "shitty".

I'm sure some of you will say, "Nay, nay! Oil of Olay is economical AND wonderful!" I agree. I actually used Oil of Olay when I went poor. It did just fine. But Clarins IT IS NOT.

Now that I'm back in the belly of the beast, and therefore having actual REAL money in my checking account, I've been slowly restocking my beauty products to their original labels (my hair already sent me a Christmas card thanking me profusely for getting rid of the Pantene and buying the pricey glossing stuff I used to own.)

Today was time for me to restock my face care system. Buh bye Miss Olay! I used to switch off between Erno Laszlo and Clarins but my skin has changed a bit in the last few years and Erno is a little heavy so I decided to go with Clarins. I trotted my happy little dehydrated face to the Clarins counter and waited. And waited. But alas no Clarins chick.

"Hello? Bonjour???" (Btw, the first language of Clarins products is French. What??? I told you I liked pricey!)

No answer. Then I heard someone say, "Y'all need some help over there?" It was the Clinique girl. I told her I was interested in browsing the Clarins line and she said, "Oh honey, I don't think Fifi comes in tonight." (And no, I don't think her actual name was Fifi. However it was my first hint that I was gonna love this lady!)

Fifi never showed up so Christy the Clinique lady helped me as best she could in selecting the appropriate products for my skin. We actually had a blast trying to Google translate and decode the labels. And, bless her heart, she tried awfully hard to sell me on Clinique's 3-step system...whatever that is.

I felt bad so I finally had to lay it on the line for her. I said, "Christy, I know Clinique is a good product. Heck, I used it all through high school. But I'm gonna be honest with you. I personally believe Clarins is made from unicorn tears and leprechaun piss because when you put it on your face you just want to CRY it feels so good!!!"

That's when Christy knew she was dealing with a nutjob. But I got my Clarins!

What's next? Oh! I need my Tiffany credit card back!!! Well, maybe not. I did learn some lessons whilst broke as a hooker on Sunday.

Besides, I can always pull the pieces of my old Tiffany card out of its baggy and reminisce.

*sniff* I'm starting to feel sad. I'm gonna go wash my face. Again.

Public Service Announcement

Guys. You know that new style of jeans you wear? The dark denim with the white stitching on the back pockets and all along the seams...including the zipper area on your crotch?

PUT THEM BACK IN YOUR GIRLFRIEND'S CLOSET BECAUSE YOU LOOK STUPID.

Also because no matter what you wear with them or what you're holding (for instance, you could be holding two automatic rifles) you will look like a pansy-ass-my-balls-are-in-my-pocketbook DOUCHE CANOE.

Just sayin'.

Live Texting a Spelling Bee

Mouth made it to his school spelling bee for the fourth time but he's always a bridesmaid, never a bride. The closest he's come to winning is top ten. I joked with him this morning saying it's no big deal if he doesn't win - because if he did, he would move on to the county bee at which point some Asian kid would kick his ass. He said, "But I wanna win...just once." Awwww!

I had to work so Mother said she would attend and keep me posted. The first year she attended in my stead I told her to call me and hold the phone up so I could hear Mouth spelling. Every round she kept saying she'd call me when they got to him the next round. But when she did call, it was right when he was spelling and she was apparently holding it UNDERWATER because I couldn't hear anything. This year I suggested she text me.

Me: "Have they started yet?"

Mother: "Whew he made it thru the first round. second kid missed it."

Me: "What??? What was the first round word? Ya gotta keep me updated!"

Mother: "6 kids out first round. he made thru 2nd."

Me: "Ma! What was the second word???"

Mother: "..."

Me: "How's he doing?"

Mother: "..."

Me: "Stop ignoring me! You're a terrible live texter!!!"

Mother: "He just made it thru 3rd round. obligerate wordliness and intelligence"

Me: "Wow. I don't even know what obligerate is?"

(Side note: A 7th grade spelling bee word that I've never even heard of before? This should have been my first clue something was off.)

Mother: "They are dropping like flies now. Words are really hard."

Me: "Oh boy..."

Mother: "9 kids left. Just spelled perfectonism correctly!"

Me: "Yay! He's so smart. Gets that from me. I'm part Asian you know. And it's perfectionism."

Mother: "haha sure you are. He made it on longtude. 6 left!"

Me: "Holy cow! And it's longitude."

Mother: "Stop correcting me. 5 left!"

Me: "Fingers crossed!"

Mother: "4! Made it with unforeeable."

Me: "unforeseeable"

Mother: "3 left. uh oh hard word"

Me: "???"

Mother: "Missed on taceturn. So did next kid."

Me: "So did you. It's TACITURN."

Mother: "Do you want me to stop texting you?"

Me: "No but come on...you have 12 year olds spelling these for you!"

Mother: "Darn. Some other kid won. He just has to beat the other kid and he gets runner up."

Me: "Come on Z!"

Mother: "He spelled geogolist right!"

Me: "GEOLOGIST"

Mother: "Spelled veribage right"

Me: "VERBIAGE???"

Mother: "Stop it!!!! Oh no...nomitive is next"

Me: "wth??? I just Googled that and it isn't even a word. You mean nominative?"

Mother: "Idk. He missed and got 3rd."

Me: "Awww. Still the highest he's placed yet. Tell him I'm so proud of him!"

Mother: "I will."

Me: "btw, I'm totally gonna blog about you misspelling all the words they were spelling."

Mother: "I was trying to liaten and text, you brat!"

Me: "LISTEN!!!"

Needless to say, Mother is refusing to ever live text a spelling bee again.

Randomly Heard

"I don't wear a sweater vest often but when I do, I feel like a MAGICIAN."

I'd like to introduce you to my coworker, German. I have a feeling y'all are gonna get to know him pretty well.