Friday, July 27, 2012

Kick 'em in the family rules!* (Part 1 in a maybe series. Maybe not.)

I'm a woman who doesn't like to be told what to do.

Unfortunately, holding myself to this idea 100% (at times) has proven to have consequences, including (but not limited to) screaming, pouting, prosecution in other countries and flogging.  Not to go into details, but let's just say I won't be joining any knitting clubs or traveling to Denmark anytime soon and leave it at that.

So, turns out it isn't such a bad idea to hold yourself to a set of rules and regulations, much like the ones posted at the pool.  However, unlike the rules at the pool, these are ones I should/will probably actually follow.  No one is gonna tell me I need a bikini top to "cover my feedbags", dammit!

Here are a few rules/concepts resembling rules from my extensive life manual, titled "I'm OK, you're OK, they're OK.  Hey- aren't we all the same person?"  They are mine to follow, but we all could benefit from a little life guidance, right?:

#1) Never choose your undergarments for the day prior to choosing your outfit.  You never know- the situation may call for something in a different color or with more support than you originally anticipated.  Nothing is worse than being stuck, mid-day, with your "Hello Kitty" bralette peeking out from your blouse or realizing that everyone can see your sparkly black mesh stripper thong through your conservative "dress khakis".  Though, bonus points if anyone notices your latex spiked harness that you just happen to be wearing under your Sunday church outfit. 

#2) Never trust anyone with your secrets that has less to hide than you do. This one is simple enough.  Learn it- live it.  We don't want to be having to find new places to bury the bodies (AGAIN) now, do we?  Though, my tomatoes are growing like gangbusters this year!

#3) It is not necessary to tell people everything that is wrong with you within the first 20 minutes of meeting them for the first time.  You need to dole this shit out sparingly- to just throw it all at them like a monkey flings poo will only result in a shitty, shitty mess, metaphorically (and sometimes actually) speaking.  Take your time, ease them into it.  Give it at least an hour, for christ's sake. 

#4) Keep kleenex in your purse/available at ALL TIMES. NO EXCEPTIONS.  Given the fact that I've had to use (in no particular order): paper towels, mittens, shirts I was wearing at the time, tissues "rescued" from the garbage, (clean) socks (OK, not always clean, per se), towels, newspaper, and just one time- a grocery bag, this one should be obvious. 

#5) Face picking and nose picking are only acceptable in complete privacy, and no- your car does not count as "private."  I know that the situation always SEEMS dire, but please spare us all the visual of seeing someone pop a zit or pluck a stray chin hair at a red light.  Do it in the privacy of the mall restroom or your work cubicle like a normal person, weirdo.

#6) Pointing out that your squeaky shoes are making farty noises is only going to make people think that you're actually farting.  There's no real solution to this one other than to get new shoes, or just suck it up and walk proudly in your farty fart fart shoes.

#7) Look at yourself thoroughly in a mirror before leaving the house- front, back, teeth & nostrils.  Leave nothing to chance. No one wants a repeat of the "blown out butt seam unicorn underpants" incident.  Ditto the "grease stains right where your nipples are at a work meeting" incident.  As a grown-assed human, we owe it to ourselves to do this much, given the astounding amount of things that can go wrong once we walk out the door (think: bird poop/stealth boogers).

There you go- a few bits of WM wisdom to start your weekend out right.  Stay tuned for further installments.  Maybe.

Happy Friday, my inappropriate little bats in the cave.  Happy Friday.

*These are not actual rules.  I'm not the boss of you, though maybe I should be.  Yeah- I'm looking at you, Mr. Boogerfinger.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

Ample-bottomed ladyfolk help ease the spinning of the earth.

First off, I'm going to share with you the most awesomely awful yet can't-look-away video that I've seen in...forever.  Watch the whole thing- your brain will hurt and you may go blind*, but it will totally be worth it just for the memories.
Ladies and not-so-Gentlemen (because I like it that way), I give you W.A.S.P:

And, you're welcome. 

The Mr. is reading the Game of Thrones books, and he seems to be discombobulated by the whole thing.  We figured out pretty quick while watching the first season of the teevee show that pretty much anyone you liked got killed.  Not "Lifetime touching movie where they get cancer and have time to reconcile their life" killed, but "Holy shit I didn't see that beheading/evisceration coming" killed.  I guess that in the books this charming feature is amplified x1,000,000, and I don't think he's too pleased with it and may stop reading.  I tried to reason with him (having not read the books and not giving of a shit if I do), reminding him that this particular scenario plays out on big and small scales every day: The thoughtful, reasonable, likeable people usually have some unfair and unfortunate malady/killing/circumstance befall them, while the grossly narcissistic/shallow/evil/douchebag contingent somehow seem to keep on keepin' on. Basically I told him that life isn't fair, and I was rewarded with an eye roll and a sigh.  Joke's on him, though- tomorrow I'm going to burn all his books.  That'll show him.

I met my girl Blondie for a few afternoon cocktails at a lovely establishment near my palatial estate this afternoon, and since it was close I rode my bike.  While we were there we witnessed an elderly woman drinking martinis who was clearly addicted to video poker, a wedding party that was stopping in post-wedding/pre-reception that looked like one or more of them would be arrested for drunk & disorderly before the night was over, and one guy that the bartender swore drank approximately 1 drink per 5 minutes, which I totally wanted to see.  Sadly, we both needed to get home for various reasons, so we exited and I unlocked & began to mount my bike as Blondie hopped in her car.  As we both were driving/rolling away, she had her windows open & "Fat bottomed girls" came on the radio.  I shit you not.  The best part was, she drove slowly alongside me for a bit, stereo cranked and windows opened, while I biked my amply-bottomed ass home. "Get on your bike and ride!"
My friends ROCK and can kick anyone else's friends asses. Don't test me on this.

I also finished teaching an Artisan Baking class, and I can say this: holy shit I'm glad it's done (as is my ass).  It was fun, I was awesome (as usual), but A) teaching a baking class during a heat wave? Yukko.  And B) Being around carbscarbscarbsfattycarbs all day long? Yukko. 
I love me some bread & butter, but lettuce and protein are looking pretty good right now. 

Oh, and I got botox again.
That pretty much sums up the time we've spent apart, my lovely little fartnuggets. 

Get on yer damn bikes and ride!!

*Vonpartypants, Inc. considers your reading this waiving your rights to sue for any potential blindness or queasiness.  Reading this also absolves VPInc of any complications due to you joining a terrible heavy-metal band or wanting to dress like Freddy Mercury.  VPInc would also like to remind you that you are loved, mostly on Mondays and every other weekend when we're court-ordered to not get drunk.