Category

Humor

Ok, That’s it, I’m Out… 

Ok Republicans, that’s it, I’m OUT.

I am breaking up with you. It’s not me, it’s you. I was never really a full fledged member in the first place…

  
I grew up a Democrat, then became a Reagan Democrat, then became an independent contractor and then the first time I looked at THAT tax return I became a conservative.

Sort of. 

Anyway, for your party to let a dude with a bad spray tan, horrendous comb over, who’s on his third wife, who starred in a reality show with Gary Busey and Nene Leakes  and then went bankrupt multiple times to win these primaries and you can not bring anyone decent to the prom is ridiculous. 

Cruz? Hello that guy was definitely given swirlies in middle school.

  
Rubio? Napoleon complex. A little bratty.

Carson? Who needs Ambien  when you’ve got him-I mean for the most part he will bore our enemies to death so there’s that. 

Kasich? Who?

Jeb? You let him get to you – big mistake, BIG big mistake.

Christie? First of all , fire the doc that did your gastric bypass- really shitty job in my opinion…

It’s gotten so expensive and so contentious and so awful to run for the big house in this country none of the good people will do it. Your ego needs to be the size of Texas to run or Trump Tower. 

So Big Don, if you build that wall you know your golf courses and landscaping at your homes and businesses is gonna start looking pretty shitty. 

And I’d like to see you bully Putin. That ought to work out REALLY well for us. 

And do you have ANY idea how they will decorate the White House? It will make Kanye look likes he lives in Restoration Hardware. 

I used to be worried about your party and my uterus. I was becoming worried about your marriage and religious stances. But this guy? 

  
Now I know the GOP has lost its collective mind and obviously does NOT have the cohesiveness to put up a decent candidate. I mean Sarah Palin, really? 

I should have known then. 

Big Don is seriously messing with you. If you don’t think by November the party will be in shambles I have news for you. 

Republicans, Please PLEASE get some cojones- get him OUT. 

So I am done. I’m still a moderate. But I’m going to take my vote somewhere I’m treated like the somewhat educated person I am. 

American Idol.

Yo, MAP, Where You Been??

I took a sabbatical from writing.

And I have better posture for doing it. Mom will be happy.

The last year I have had many many changes and life events going on. Some were AWESOME and a few were some that will make your hair grey.

That’s life honey, not for sissies.

The ONE THING that I have learned is the old saying:

strong

I know, cliché, but it’s freekin true.

Sooo, in the last year or so I learned some things:

  • I don’t lose weight when I am stressed therefore I will never get divorced because the Divorce Diet will not get me a new man.
  • I will NEVER EVER rescue another dog with the REMOTEST DNA of Chihuahua in it.
  • Do NOT buy the cheap pads. Poise all the way!
  • When your parents become hard of hearing, it’s really not that bad. Except for the TV that I can hear from Florida. And the yelling.
  • When you travel especially overseas, you really only need 2 pairs of black pants, Uggs, ortho inserts, a camera, a jacket and deodorant.
  • Centre Court Wimbledon IS all that and a bag of chips. Or a glass of Pimms. Oh, and don’t make fun of the “Ugly English Old Dude” sitting next to you. He just may be the president of the All England Club…

 

 

wimbledon (7 of 9)
Amazing Serena @rustystirrupphotography

 

  • I totally fan girled over this beautiful young husband I met at an AirBNB we stayed at in England who’s best friends with Andrew Lincoln. THAT was embarrassing….

 

UNIVERSAL CITY, CA - OCTOBER 02: Andrew Lincoln arrives at AMC's "The Walking Dead" Season 5 Premiere held at AMC Universal City Walk on October 2, 2014 in Universal City, California. (Photo by Michael Tran/FilmMagic)

  • The correct pronunciation of the word HAM in Spanish is ‘hambon’ NOT ‘jambone’.
  • I love Guatemala.

    Me and Shari on an avocado, coffee and children's mission on Lake Atitlan
    Me and Shari on an avocado, coffee and children’s mission on Lake Atitlan
  • I still dig through  and buy dead’s people’s stuff (estate sales)
  • My mom is seriously a trooper – we took her on a pass (not recommended) to Amsterdam and Germany this past spring. Surprise! There are very few escalators in European train stations.
  • I started my own skin care franchise. Yep, you heard me right the first time. E-commerce all the way baby, work from home and can still junk, travel and write. Because the former three can’t pay all the bills. And I get to dress up nice again, go to a couple of meetings, a convention, and meet some pretty awesome, normal, and driven women. And the product works.Docs

 

 

I’ve also learned about patience, love, forgiveness, prayer, charity, dignity and hope.

And I guess those were my most important lessons this year!

 

My Celebrity Boyfriend is Gilbert Gottfried…

fb

My hippie name is Flower.

My subconscious personality is German.

Can I pass a basic math test? (level 2nd grade)

I am 95% funny.

My real occupation should be therapist.

I know all the correct answers to the language quiz.

My spirit animal is orangutan.

My Disney Villain is Ursula.

My Disney Character is Goofy (natch)

The state I should live in is Texas.

My celebrity boyfriend is Gilbert Gottfried.

The house I should live in is Haunted…

Is this what Facebook has been reduced to? Quizzes, memes, quotes, and selfies?

I was looking at my news feed this weekend and out of 1244 friends, I bet only about 20 of them post consistently. It seems to have gotten quieter out there on the old book of faces and actually I have been as well. There are only so many pithy things I can think of saying on a given day. And I TRY not to post a cute cat video or some video that will make me ugly cry and ruin my Botox.

Are people actually getting their lives back???

Well, I did see a post from a friend who NEVER posts unless the fam is in Vegas with freekin CHANNING TATUM. (rant over)

But it seems like some of us are getting a little bored with social media. I know my Twitter participation is way down. I do love Instagram but mostly put fancy enhanced iPhone photos on there. I actually read a book last week.

A real book. Like one with pages and everything.

And that’s another thing. I don’t do Kindles. I have the app, I had a nook, but I found that I actually like turning real pages. I like to be able to skip forward back to figure out what’s going on. And I found that when I am on Kindle on my iPad, if I get to a boring part of a novel, all of a sudden I see that Facebook button and press there. Then Pinterest, Twitter and Instagram. And by the time that happens I have lost interest and need to do some laundry.

Speaking of which, I’m thinking my quiet Facebook friends have cleaner homes that me.

But I got US Expert on the US History quiz.

 

How about you-are you on social media more or less?

 

Toto, We’re NOT In Nordstrom Anymore…

Shhhh, don’t tell anyone.

I bought a pair of orthotic shoes last week.

It was a sad touchstone in my life. I have been a shoe freak since my first pair of brown and white saddle shoes, all the way to the latest adorable Tory Burch flats. Shoes don’t judge. You can be a size 8 or a size 16 and wear a fabulous pair of shoes and feel like a million bucks.

I had to break down and find some. With my recent jogging journey, coupled with my little tennis fantasy and the age of my high arched feet, I developed plantar fasciitis.

First, I thought it was just some temporary heel pain. But it went on for a couple of months. Then, in working at my little antique store one day in flip-flops ( a big no, no) I felt crippled in that foot and went straight to WebMD.

Bingo-Plantar Faciitis. The best part of the description was that it happens to athletic people. If you call running two minutes and walking one minute athletic, I’ll take it.

According to WebMD:
Plantar fasciitis (say “PLAN-ter fash-ee-EYE-tus”) is the most common cause of heel pain. The plantar fascia is the flat band of tissue (ligament) that connects your heel bone to your toes. It supports the arch of your foot. If you strain your plantar fascia, it gets weak, swollen, and irritated (inflamed). Then your heel or the bottom of your foot hurts when you stand or walk.

Plantar fasciitis is common in middle-aged people. It also occurs in younger people who are on their feet a lot, like athletes or soldiers. It can happen in one foot or both feet.

Plantar fasciitis is caused by straining the ligament that supports your arch. Repeated strain can cause tiny tears in the ligament. These can lead to pain and swelling. This is more likely to happen if:

Your feet roll inward too much when you walk (excessive pronation camera.gif).
You have high arches or flat feet.
You walk, stand, or run for long periods of time, especially on hard surfaces.
You are overweight.
You wear shoes that don’t fit well or are worn out.
You have tight Achilles tendons or calf muscles.

Most people with plantar fasciitis have pain when they take their first steps after they get out of bed or sit for a long time. You may have less stiffness and pain after you take a few steps. But your foot may hurt more as the day goes on. It may hurt the most when you climb stairs or after you stand for a long time

So off to the orthotic shoe store I went.

I mean seriously, these places need a HUGE makeover. I had to sign in and wait my turn behind an elderly gal getting those sexy black tennis shoes with the laces, and a 100-year-old cadaver couple arguing over which compression sock is the best. Toto, we’re not in Nordstrom anymore…

The selection was mediocre and the store gave me Buster Brown flashbacks from my youth. The saleslady was extremely helpful and I found a fairly cute pair of Vionic sandals that are so comfy on my feet. They aren’t Manolos but they will suffice.

Then I went on Zappos. The mother of all shoe sites. And there ARE cute orthotic shoes, THERE ARE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I still refuse to give up my Tory’s or my Jack Rogers. In the future, when I wear those, Advil better be close by.

And an orthotic insert from Walmart…

 

 

I Ran My First 10K. And Survived…

(I have been off-line for a bit, traveling, getting my head together, and actually blogging for a non-profit about our Mission Trip to Guatemala – I think I’ll be  back to my regularly scheduled sarcasm soon!)

Check this one off the bucket list y’all.

The Peachtree Road Race.

I have lived in Atlanta on and off for over 40 years (mostly on) and every Fourth of July I watch as thousands (like 60K) of people get up early, get on Marta, and go run or walk this famous 6 plus mile race on our famous Peachtree Street.

And every year, I said I was gonna do it.

One year I got a number but it was right after 9/11 so I totally wimped out and fearing dying on the streets in my Target gym shorts and Spam T-shirt, I gave away my number.

Take that Al Qaeda.

Anyhoo, fearing I would ALWAYS regret not at least ATTEMPTING to get across the finish line, I signed up this year.

I joined a fun running group at the urging of a friend (ok, begging) called No Boundaries. It’s a fun organization designed to get you out there on the roads for friendship and health and in my case, plantar fasciitis. More on that later. We jog each Monday and Wednesday evenings during the week and start the sloooowwwwww way. Perfect!

Week One : Run 1 minute, walk 4 minutes. Hell yeah, I GOT THIS!!!

Week Ten : Run 4 minutes, walk one. Kill. Me. Now.

But I did it. And ran a 5K (well, walked and ran, that’s a secret to this whole fiasco I didn’t know of and the reason I stick with it).

I thought THAT was long.

But I got the T Shirt. Boom.

So the Peachtree was next.

I signed up last March and planned on training for it. Mostly so I wouldn’t be carried off by hot Atlanta Fire Dept. guys in my Target shorts and you know…

But, guess who showed up to the party???

Plantar Faciitis.

First I thought I was just having heel pain. Thinking maybe diabetes? Arthritis? Old Age? Bad shoes???

Nope, Web MD saved the day and told me I had this thing that makes the muscles and ligaments sore-especially runners and athletes get it a lot. WOO HOO – I have a RUNNING INJURY I CAN TELL EVERYONE ABOUT!!!!!!!!!!!

But I was not going to bag on the Peachtree. Unless of course, it was 80 plus degrees and humid at 8 am that morning. Sadly Arthur the hurricane helped us out and it was 67 and dry.

Time to hoof it for the coveted T Shirt.

I was in the next to last pack of folks to start. By that time all the Elite Runners were in their hotels showered with their Starbucks…

But it was the party pack and I was with my people. As we got waved to start, the local radio station started blasting Sugar Hill Gang’s Apache. One of my all time faves. Next to me was a guy dressed in a grass skirt with a coconut bra on.

I was going to be OK.

And here’s the thing. All ages, sizes, abilities, races, were out there. The right half of the street were walking. The left half were jogging. I was in the middle.

Mile 4 was the turning point. It was up hill from there. All of a sudden both sides of the street were walking. Totally no guilt! There were photographers a few hundred feet before the finish. All I can say is no. That was NOT a Kodak Moment for me.

As I limped over the finish line with sweat in places I didn’t know could get sweaty, sore hips, a numb left foot, shin splints and wobbly knees all I could think of was – I am HUNGRY and I need a REAL COKE.

And I came in 49,616 out of 60,000. Not last, not first. Hell I’m 54.

Nothing changes.

But I got that shirt. And wear it proudly. It is a badge of honor in Atlanta.

So what’s next?

Not sure, but joining No Boundaries again in September.

Week One:  Run 1 minute, walk four minutes.

I so got this.

 

 

Empty Nest? I Wish…

Every year, I have a blue bird couple that takes up residence in the blue bird box on my screened porch. And every year, I watch as Daddy blue bird stands watch over the household and Mom blue bird works tirelessly building her nest, incubating her eggs, feeding her chicks and then coaxing them out of their home for bigger and better adventures beyond our back yard.

And when those babies fledge, which I have had the opportunity to watch twice, Mom and Dad will perch on the opposite side of the box, usually on my trellis and squawk and squawk at each kid until they finally take that leap and fly out of the nest. Sometimes they stumble, fly in to my potted plants, get confused, look scared, but after a few moments, they gain confidence and fly off.

For the next month Mom and Dad teach them the ways of the world and off they go to find fame and fortune and not get eaten by the neighborhood cats.

This is the way it is supposed to happen.

But many of us still have a 18 plus year old at home. Either they are not going the college route, going to a local community or tech college, working full-time, burned out from high school or generally dealing with having a hard time leaving the comforts of their home.

So this Momma blue bird squawked and squawked and this baby is STILL HERE…

I’ve read all of these heart-felt posts about having an empty nest. Dealing with the reality of having their kids go on to new and bigger things. Exceptionally sad yet happy for the new phase in their child’s life. You people are LUCKY. Geesh.

I love my daughter with all of my heart and have enjoyed (mostly) every single minute of her growing up years with her Dad and I. But Girlfriend, it’s time.

Time to for her to find herself. Time for her to find out about the REAL world. Time for her to fend for herself. Time for her to ENJOY herself without her helicopter mother frantically texting her every 30 minutes she’s out on a weekend night. Time to make mistakes. Time to fall really in love. Time to make new friends.

And I know that she is on a different time schedule and going off to school may not be her thing. That’s cool. But it’s time.

And what Mom, in her right mind, would miss THIS???

There are many of us out there that are just waiting for the moment that the kids fly the coop and we are counting down the minutes. You just don’t hear about us. We were the moms who didn’t cry at the bus stop the first day of kindergarten. We were the moms high-fiving each other and pouring Bloody Marys on the first day of school.We were the moms that DREADED summer vacation (mostly in the teen years)We were the moms who thought 5th grade graduation ceremonies were ridiculous (it is after all, something that a kid SHOULD do, you know, go on to 6th grade???)We were the moms that sat, at 4 am, in line at the school to get their teen a parking space so we didn’t have to drive them to school. We DID cry at your high school graduation. Yes, a bittersweet 12 years has gone by.

But the next day we were at Target buying bedding and furniture for your new dorm room or apartment. 2 months ahead of schedule.

For all of you out there saddened by your upcoming empty nest, I feel for ya. I know, I know, end of childhood, end of being a hands on mom, facing aging, yada yada yada. Boo freekin hoo. Take a hint from Momma blue bird, she got those chicks out of the house in 4 weeks. She’s our hero.

So to all my girlfriends facing the empty nest with dread in a few months, it’s time. Come on over, I’ll have the box wine. The chips and dip. It’s time-to celebrate. It’s finally OUR time. The best is yet to come.

 

Looking For A Miracle in Costco

20140517-111327.jpg

Once in a while you can never pass up an opportunity to laugh at
with your mother.
Yesterday Mom and Dad went for their weekly scouting mission at Costco to stock up on cheap wine and lots of beef. Yes, they are in their late 70,s and still eat red meat and are healthier than ever.

Mom, being the fun young energetic silver sneaker chicklet that she is, happened upon the Miracle Suit at Costco. For a mere $39.95 this too can be the bathing suit of your dreams, they are typically over $100 each. So, sucked down the rabbit hole of eternal hope she took one home. With high expectaions she started pulling it on. And pulling, and pulling. With my Dad in the background making hilarious comments as this ensued. It is, after all, one of the reasons they’ve been married 50 plus years…

After 15 minutes of pulling, she gave up after only getting it past her calves and Dad threatening to call the fire department to cut her out of it. The miracle dashed, she was in tears, of laughter. After all, if mom told us that she broke her hip getting in to a bathing suit, it wouldn’t result in much empathy from us. I understand her pain. I bought one too. It’s still on the form in my closet and I think I’m gonna need one of those sweat wraps to get in to it. Miracle Suit = oxymoron.

BeyonceGate

That Solange can seriously open a can of whoop ass. This is one time I wished I worked security for a hotel. Six figures for the video. So I lose my job. Who cares, I’d be happily unemployed on a beach in St Tropez.

I don’t think I’ve EVER been that angry at one of my in laws. And yes, all families have issues and problems but I don’t hink I have ever gone all WWE on anyone in my family. There have been some times with the teenagers. Just goes to show that all the money in the music world can’t keep you from losing it in an elevator.

Baba Wawa retires from The View

Bummer. All I want to know is who does her face. I need that number. She’s like in her EIGHTIES.

Hillary Clinton on Walking Dead! Coming This Fall
20140517-110253.jpg

According to Karl Rove, Hillary is making a guest appearance on TWD this fall. Surprise guest appearance. As Darryl’s Ivy League alcoholic redneck mom in flashbacks. Pant suits will never be the same. And that crazy Karl has been reported missing from the psych ward again…

Some of my favorite stories this week come from Lori Wescott of Loripalooza and Leslie Marinelli in LifeTime Moms. I think Lori and I live in the same hood, and prom-posals are getting ridiculous. What happened to the days when you were a teen girl waiting on THAT phone call from McDreamy that never came? We didn’t even have caller ID so at least we could have let that call from dork bait go to voice mail. So the guy who makes your skin crawl in biology shows up at your home with the marching band, Justin Timberlake and a truckload of roses and you say no?

The 24 hour date that lasts 23 hours and 55 minutes too long.

I’ll get back on the wagon with this blog-and I have started another one for my vintage linen and junk business called The Happy Flea so you can find me over there too!

It’s Almost Mother’s Day, And The Award Goes To…

mother of the year award

We are overworked, overlooked and overtired 24/7 and yet we still do not get recognized for our efforts. In the acting, singing, hell, even the  business world, awards are given out like candy. Those people need to satisfy their insecurities with these awards. Feel better about themselves. Get bonuses, pay raises, magazine covers.

But what about US? The Mom’s out there???

There’s an award out there for us. One that we secretly win several times a month, even several times a day. It’s one we should be proud of, should wear as a badge of honor. Yet we mutter or YELL it at the top of our voices – to usually no one in the immediate area – then we go on with our day.

Yes, it’s the most sacred of all awards.

The Mother Of The Year Award.

Funny Family Ecard: When you get the 'Mother of the Year' award, then I'll listen.

I personally have won this award for my achievements in mothering from the day my daughter was pulled out of my nether region, and now to our almost empty nest.

There are many categories too.

The first award  I won  was in the delivery room.  It’s  The Psychotic New Mom in the throes of a semi medicated C-section Award:   After one hour of dry heaving in the recovery room, with my peaked husband by my side, the nurse wheels my squishy bundle of joy in and says—Now we gonna do the show – which was the beginner baby training class for new moms. I said, between gags – “Are you freeking kidding me? Bring her back later! I’m RECOVERING, dammit – isn’t what this room is for?”

I had directed them to give her a bottle at night-I was going to breast feed but that first night I felt I needed some peace after 36 hours of labor and giving over a pint of O positive blood to this fiasco –  About 2 am I hear the baby cart wheels clickety clacking in the hallway-I lay there thinking – NO, NO, NO—the nurse brings her in and says – This baby hungry! I rolled over and said, “It’s on the chart-give her a bottle-I’ll nurse in the morning”….Man, the room service in hospitals suck.

She was 24 hours old. I had to write my first acceptance speech…

Awesome  start.

The awards started coming as she grew.

The second one I won was the Most Likely To Freak Out Your Mother In Law in Church Award:

At her christening, her pacifier fell out on the floor during the service-standing there and not wanting a screaming infant, I bent over, picked it up, put it in my mouth to clean it, then promptly stuck it back in her mouth. I heard a gasp from the front pew and looked over to see an expression on my MIL’s face that I’ll never forget – I thought my germophobe MIL was going to pass out.

In that expression I knew that this already not good enough for my son daughter in law just proved her right.

The Real Reason I Gave Up My Perky Boobs Award

I breast-fed mainly because I was lazy and seriously, who wants to get up at 2 and 4am, drag yourself to the kitchen and prepare a bottle??? Shopping? No problem—I knew where every bathroom/ nursing station was in every mall within a 25 mile radius of my home. Dr. Spock also writes that a beer at night wont hurt your baby. I will confirm that by saying that it assists with sleep both hers and yours, but stay away from asparagus….just saying

There were other awards from infant to toddler – some minor – some major but I won them all:

The Car Nap Award

A ten minute ride home will turn in to an hour tour of local neighborhoods just to get that one hour of peace.

The Reason Our Parents Had Cocktails at 5 Award

The witching hour. Enough said.

The I Just Intend to keep Her Alive Thank You Award

Crawling? To go play in the dog water bowl? At least she’s happy.

I let her wear her Dumbo fleece Halloween outfit for an ENTIRE year. From one Halloween to the next. She  was 2. Then 3. I had to use a chip clip to hold the ears back while she ate dinner so they wouldn’t fall in her food.

dumbo1

The Sort of Honest Mom with No Backbone Award

Holiday fibbing worked well – Santa will only bring you three good things, the tooth fairy only gives out a dollar-the one that came by your friend’s house with a $20 robbed the bank and will go to jail, the Easter Bunny gets the chocolate eggs from the chocolate chickens, you get my drift.

She was so totally in love with her pacifier, I had 3 in her bed, extras in the car, in my purse, and in her stroller. When it was time to give them up (according to everyone else with an opinion…) I cut off the end. No problem, she still used it. Finally at four, she gave them up on her own–Don’t worry about the damn pacifier-it kept DFACS from my home and 2 grand and 2 years of braces in high school and she will have movie star teeth.

During the later elementary and middle school years she started seeing through my mom bullshit. It was going to be a bigger stretch to achieve stardom during awards season.  I did, however score a few minor ones:

The Best Supporting Mom at the Soccer Game in 20 degree weather sitting in the Car Award

The You Can’t Play Softball Because You Will Hate The Outfit Award which goes right along with The Award for You HAVE to Join The Catholic Girls Basketball Team Because it COULD Get You in to the Private School Award (she is 5’6 and now in public school so obviously I was wrong)

Best Make Up Artist : For the time I made her scary for Halloween at the age of 9. She slept in my room the next week.

The Best Costume Award when You Let Your 9th Grader Dress like a Trampy German Beer Girl at the Local Neighborhood Halloween Party ( it was cuter on the package than in person…).

Set Decoration: Remember how much time, love and energy we put in those nurseries? Wait until they become teens. Get out the Hazmat suit, you’ll need it. You figure, oh hell, if she wants her room purple then she can paint it herself. She was in 10th grade. She can put on eyeliner in the dark but couldn’t keep the purple paint off the seams of the walls.

The Stunt Woman Award:

I tend to drive with my knees when I am fishing for my cell, eating a quarter pounder, drinking a Caramel Macchiato that is oozing over the edges of the cup, you know, important things. My teenager looks at me and seriously asks, Are they going to teach ME how to drive with my knees in Drivers’ Ed??

Help. Me.

How many of you with teenagers have won the following award????

The If I Can Ever Get Them Out of the House and Become Self Sufficient BY 18 I’m Going to Disney World Award

By the time they are 18 if you are still alive, not on drugs, and not locked up in the psych ward at local hospital, then you’ve done your job.

That’s your award. We all win it at some time or another.

We’ve raised our kids as best as we could and now they have wings. Some of those wings may be a little crooked, but hers are still intact. That’s what is important.

And when we become grandparents we can smile, nod, and say – get ready for the red carpet darling, you are going to need an acceptance speech, and a drink….

This is a blog hop on Midlife Boulevard! Enjoy the other writers too!

 

 

 

Pass the Perfume and Bring Me a Fan

hiherspotty
@flickr

This weekend I found out that I am getting to the age where going to the bathroom in a clean restroom is a right, not a privilege. You would think that since the porta potty was invented in 1962 by George Harding that it would have come a longer way in 60 plus years.

But it hasn’t.

Initially this device was invented for people who built and worked on ships-because finding a place to shit on a ship closer to the area you worked in was a necessity. Designed on the outhouse concept, ship workers were having to leave and walk all the way back to the docks to go drop the kids off at the pool. Made of wood and metal at first, they found that they were smelly.

OH REALLY???

So in the 1970’s they were made of fiberglass. They are still smelly. But on the flip side (ok, porta potty joke inserted here heh heh) they are lighter and easier to transport. And clean. The cleaning part is selective at events. Some do every day, some wait till the end.

Obviously where I was this weekend, they waited till the end.

Now I know us gals are for equal rights and all that but I am sorry, I just CAN’T go in a plastic crapper right after a 300 lb guy with tats, a Big Gulp and an ‘I’m with Stupid’ shirt on comes rambling out the door.

RattlesnakeWarning1
@Flickr

I. Just. Can’t.

At the end of the day, I’m still a delicate southern belle with (some) manners and a personal hygiene fetish. Showers are important to my mental and physical health. And so are clean hands.

And clean hienie.

astrodiaper
@Amazon

I consider it the lowest depths of hell to go in a plastic box with an open toilet in 86 degree heat to get some relief. I’d rather wear astronaut diapers to an event than go in one of those things again.

I participated in an antique festival this weekend and besides the slow sales, me and the girls all around me were laughing AND complaining about the relief stations. I swear, we would have paid a dollar a poop to go in an air-conditioned, clean women’s room if they had it. Because in reality the people who make the most money at these things are the guy selling the funnel cakes, corn dogs and water at two bucks a bottle. Which is why they need these things.

I’m sensing a business here. Can you see me, in a pink trailer with ladies rooms, air conditioning, working sinks, fans-at a dollar a drop? I’m going to call it The Princess Pooper and am going on Shark Tank for funding.

Don’t steal my idea. I know lawyers.

So please Festival people, concert promoters, party planners, and all, at least can you DESIGNATE the chick shitter???? Would it kill you? Could the Porta Potty makers make pink potties with fans for goodness sakes?

Just until I get my funding.

You’re invited to my launch party. Bring a fan.

FUN FACT: The world record for the most porta potties assembled at one time occurred in 2009. During the inauguration of President Barack Obama, 5,000 porta potties were rented for the attendees of the event.

Oh those crazy Democrats…

I only need 12 MORE LIKES on my Facebook page right up there to the right to get to 2000-LIKE Forever 51 and I promise to keep us both entertained.

10 Things To Not Do Yourself

It really makes me crazy when I am either shopping with someone or I am manning my booth at the antique market and someone says, “Oh, I can make that MYSELF!”

Yeah sugar, you just go ahead and try that whydontcha. . .

And BC can also be the WORST about saying this, especially when it comes to the yard.

poolboy1
A girl can dream…

In my wildest of dreams I have a pool boy, a landscaper, a gardener and a yard man. A whole slew of he-men trimming and making my Barbie Dream House Garden come true. In my hood, most people have yard services and for the first 16 years we lived here we consistently violated the covenants by doing our own yard. And BC grew up in a household where his weekly duty was cutting their 1 acre yard thick with St Augustine grass that he had to use the push mower on for years.

It gives him major acid flashbacks. So when he did ours, he always came in with the ‘itches’.

I’m allergic to this, I’m allergic to that. When I cut that bush down I broke out in hives. Wahhh Wahhh Wahhh.

Never mind the fact that he just had to have that $1500 mower to make our grass perfect. Oh, and that makes him cough and sneeze constantly too.

So about a year ago, I convinced him to give it up and hire a yard service.

Saved the marriage. And got the HOA off our pine straw-less backs.

So for all of you who have friends, or family members that always say, “I can do that cheaper myself,” I give you

10 Things To NOT Do Yourself:

1. Heart Transplant
2. Cremation
3. Root Canal
4. Septic Tank Cleaning
5. Defend Yourself in Court
6. Breast Augmentation
7. Asbestos Removal
8. Hair Plugs
9. Build Your Own Swimming Pool (I swear he ALMOST tried this)
10. Lasix Eye Surgery

Cremation Update - 375
You’re a hot piece of ash…

I love my yard guys, even if they are portly and muddy. Cheaper than marriage counseling.