Jan 21: Embracing my inner techy!

Hola, my chilly tators. It is bitter-er than an ex-girlfriend of your significant other because you are the one scorin' that fine ass and not her out there! Well, today is "National Hugging Day," which I have done numerous times with my Blackcherry. I bid a found adieu to my trusty red Razor as I laid it to rest in my phone retirement home (NOTE: It is not really a home, but a draw that also contains a rubber band ball; which I thought was both practical and cleverly designed; old keys to who-know-who's-house, five crusty tubes of Crazy Glue, a half a dozen of pencils that are either broken or missing an eraser, and assorted buttons, paper clips, and take-out menus.).

You might be pondering...
"If she was so happy, why did he give up her Razor?"

Well...
Carl-E is really to blame for this one. See he has Blackbetty, and she craves his attention 24/7. She is so needy, like a new puppy or a sister-n-law that constantly asks for money; hummmmm! Well, after she began to interfere with my dinners with Carl-E, I had to tell her to get to steppin' because my pimp hand is strong!

So...
Carl-E and I made an agreement, while we are eating she had to take the backseat. But, as soon as I would leave the room to get more H2O, a napkin, or a what-ever Blackbetty would be in my man's hands winking her red light seductively at him. Astonished but not surprised, I would fly into Jersey rage. I would be like, "You best be not be pushin that hoodie rat's buttons on my time!" And Carl-E would be like, "What are you talking about?" I would be like, "Oh so that's how it's gonna be, uh?! Well, you best be get to steppin and yous know I will take your sorry-cheatin-ass to court because you willz not deny my babies!" And, he would be like, "What ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" To which I would just stare until he gave up. After about, oh 2 of these episodes, he FINALLY got the hint and she never came out during dinner again.

Until...
A few weeks ago, Carl-E's knee injury must of traveled to his head and effected his memory, because during a delish dinner of saute spinach with tomatoes, garlic, and olive oil, turkey sausage, pasta, and home-made sauce Blackbetty surfaced. At first he did not notice that I was yakking about something-that-was-very-important-to-me-at-the-time-however-I-cannot-tell-what-it-was-now-but-at-the-time-it-was-Earth-shatteringly-important. At the end of my rattling, I provided the response pause (NOTE: For those of you who do not know what this is, this is when you are talking, talking, and talking, not giving the other person anytime to interject because you know that the interjection will screw-up your train of thought, so to be polite, at the end of your stream of conciseness, you give them an opportunity to respond.).

However...
He did not respond. So, as the fabu wife that I is, I gave my man a few extra tick-tocks of my Tiffany watch. Well, when no response filled the VERY empty air, I looked up to see him handling Betty! Our eyes met, and he began to quiver with the fear of category 10+ hurricane of pure Jersey rage that was about to hit him full force; yes he was ground zero!

Instead...
I smiled, and said, "I want a Blackbetty, too!" He blinked a few times, and said, "Ok." And that was that!

So...
On Monday, my version of Blackbetty arrived. But, my version is not the mom-jean-wearing, roots-need-of-dying, jugs-swingin-to-her-knees version. Mine is the 24-year-old-smokin-hot-cocain-skinny-trophy-wife-complete-with-silicon-implants-and-blond-hair-extensions (NOTE: Not the Britney-bad extensions, but the Jessica Simpson good ones). Mine has a roller ball, not some ghetto wheely-thingy on the side. Mine is not some scratched up faded-silver color, a deep succulent red, hence the name Blackcherry.

At first sight...
it was true love. But, Blackcherry did not understand that I was the boss and tried to man handle me. We fought, we bickered, we tussled, we scrapped, until I finally won. I am the mistress of this hee-ouse. Now, I have a submissive smartphone. And when I have to trade Blackcherry for a younger and hotter version, Blackcherry will spend the rest of its days in that junk drawer with the Razor, safety pins and old post-it note pads.

86 me 'cause I am done!

Jan 13: I see you; but you do not see me!

Happy "National Make Your Dream Come True Day and Blame Someone Else Day," tators. At first I was like, "Hummmm, these things are very different why would they share a day?" But then, my 130+ IQ kicked in and I realized they are like two peas in a pod; to make your dreams come true you just might have to stick it to someone else. So, when you are at clearance sale at Bloomies and you spy that last pink and orange PVC Tory Burch tote and so does some bimbo, charge her like a linebacker and do not stop if you hear a muffled "POP!" (NOTE: That's what insurance is for), take her down to Chinatown and ignore the perfume display that just crashed and splashed all over the floor, grab that dream bag and jet to the cashier. And if you are approached by store po-po about the carnage, just smile and say, "She just slipped, poor thing!" Ching! Ching! Jackpot!

Ok, let's get to the meat of this bloggy...
Well, this morning on the way to the gym to exercise my muscles, I was listening to a local ATL morning show. In honor of the premiere of "American Idol" (NOTE: I am proud to say that I have NEVER watch an episode, but I have NEVER missed an episode of "Rock of Love"!) each show member had to select a song from a former Idol winner to sing. Well, the first song selected was Clay Aiken's "Invisible" Now, not only have I never watched one episode, but I do not think I ever heard this song. Well, the girls on the show were going on and on about how creepy the lyrics were. So, I looked them up.

And...
Icky, icky, poo! Ok, Clay is creepy looking enough with his unnaturally smooth face, but the lyrics are the final push over a very steep, jagged cliff into the icy, cold drink! Here are some of the creepiness:

Whatcha doin tonight
I wish I could be a fly on your wall
Are you really alone
Who's stealin' your dreams
Why can't I bring you into my life
What would it take to make you see that I'm alive

Saw your face in the crowd
I call out your name
You don't hear a sound
I keep tracing your steps

If I was invisible
Then I could just watch you in your room

Now...
A ballot about stalking is not my idea of romance, but I guess to each is his own. So, while I was warming up on the treadmill I decided to take a look-see at a magazine. As I was flippin' through, I noticed an article about things to do in the new year; AKA resolutions. Since I am not a big fan of the resolution, I was just a tad bit curious of what the mag listed. There was the usual suspects; loss weight, eat right, exercise more, save money, blah, blah, blah.

And then...
I came to the last resolution. It said that you (NOTE: A woman) should buy a disposal phone, for the sole purpose of calling a man you just met. Now, I know you are scratching your noggin and wondering, "Why in the Hades would some woman do that?!"

Ponder...
Ponder...
Ponder...

Ansewer...
So that the man does not know it is you! So stalker-ee; so creepy; so mucho loco! What bad, bad, bad advise (NOTE: But I am sure that some crazy-ass bee-otches have already thought and implemented this action on some poor lowly, lowly, male).

Next...
I am driving to pick up my meds (NOTE: Yes, I am on lots; some of those little wonders that make me very, very HAPPY!). And, on another radio station, they report that technology has increase stalking by more percentages than the national bailout! And because technology grows faster than laws, there is a great big gray area when it comes to what they anointed "cyber-stalking." Imagine one of your ex-holes 20 years later in a dark, dank room, with only the glow of his PC to illuminate the room while Googling your name while gazing at your big-haired high school photo that is now framed with a big, red Sharpie marker that he loving and painstakingly drew over and over again.

Now that I have made you feel all icky, I gotts to jet.
Shake what your mama gave ya!



Ex-hole

your a**hole ex-husband, ex-boyfriend or just plain ex. a phrase used to refer to that person you used to date that you can't stand.

"Yeah, my ex-hole wants to get back together, but there is no possible way."

Jan 7: Trying to do good!

Happy 2009, tators, and happy "National Old Rock Day." So, break out those LP's and the Hi-Fi's, tye-dye tee's, bell-bottoms with the happy face patch, s[port some rose colored glasses while you gently sway to the rhythm of Led Zep's "Stair Way To Heaven" or any other oldie but a goodie that you want to jam to. GET THE LED OUT!

Ok...
For 2009, I gave in and made a list of resolutions. Now, I know that I stated previously that I would not do this, but Carl-E kept on me like white on rice until I caved. My will power is fading with my beauty...

So...
One of my resolutions was to recycle more. This is one that I did post in my last bloggy, and at first it was ha-ha-funny, but I got to thinking. I nourish four cats with two cans of the most delectable feline delights each twice a day, Carl-E consumes enough seltzer water and Gator-Aid to fill the Atlantic ocean, and we receive so much junk mail despite asking kindly "Take us of your damn list!".

Well...
Like a responsible resident of the City of Atlanta, I ventured to their web site to uncover what is acceptable and what is rejected like the ugly child (NOTE: Every city is different, so I wanted to do it right!). A whole new world was open before my eyes; cereal boxes (NOTE: If broken down), directories (NOTE: The yellow pages are so 90's), and magazines (NOTE: My "In Touch" will find its way to the bin, only after I complete the Suduko) all got the thumbs up in addition to the old faithfuls; plastic bottles, tin cans, and paper.

Movin Forward...
The first week went as smooth as the finest cocoa ganache enrobing the most decadent, moist chocolate cake with sweet raspberry filling. This week, well kind of lumpy like rice pudding with raisins. Monday night, I rolled the bin to the curb and the next day; the recycle man was MIA. I conducted some recon and realized that no one's bin was emptied. So, I left it out another day just like everyone else.

Let's Leap Foward...
Today, was a Winnie-the-Pooh day; I noticed as I dusted the living room that we never use. And then, it happened! Two boys came walking down the street, eyed my recycling bin, and kicked the lid off like a pimp kicks a ho! And before you ask, "Oh no they didn't"! I will answer, "Oh, yes they did!" Paper started flying out of the bin and began to tumble down the street. It was like A shredder threw-up after indulging in one too many reams; paper everywhere.

Now...
One of my resolutions is to be more positive. So, the old Jersey me would of ran out there and verbal assulted the boys with expletives until they cried. But now it is the new me, I took a few deep breathes, open my door, and said to the boys, "Excuse me!" To which they both turned around. I proceeded to ask them, "Why did you kick my bin?" They both began to giggle, turned their backs to me, and started to walk away. Ok, now I felt the Jersey start to rear it's head. However, I surpressed the demoness and began to quickly pick up all of the junk mail that was still blowing out of the bin, and on to my neighbor's yard, and the next neighbor's yard that needs a desperate mowing, and the next neighbor's yard (NOTE: I told you it was a very windy day).

Next...
Before I know it, a lady that I did not know from Adam, walks by me while I am frantically trying to grab all the paper and repeating over and over again to myself that they are young boys and they do stupid things, etc. etc. As she passes me, our eyes lock, and she starts to chuckle and continues walking. That is when then I notice she is carrying two backpacks. Now, I have reached my limit. So, I yell out, "Hey!" She turns around and gives me that "How dare you talk to me in that tone of voice" look with a hand on her rather large hip. And to that I walked up to her until I was about 4 feet away, and said, "Teach your kids some F*&%in' manners and remember Karma is a bitch." And with that, I turned, walked away, and continued to pick up my papers. No, way am I blow my resolution to recycle. I mean it is all about Mother Earth, ya know?!

"Mission four:
Got the vintage Rolls
Drop a couple hundreds tell him leave it at the door"

December 30: The End Is Almost Here

Happy "Festival Of Enormous Changes At The Last Minute and National Bicarbonate Of Soda Day." So tators, make a list of all things you want to change in 2009, (NOTE: You know you will try real hard the first month, and then start to slack off as February rolls around; we all do it; it's only human), next chug a soda (NOTE: May I suggest a frosty, refreshing Cherry Coke Zero; yummy!), and then think of some totally hilarious, and laugh so the soda shoots out of your nose and pours all over your list.

Well, tators, I hope you had a fabu Christmas, mine was very, very, interesting. As I reported in my last post; poor Carl-E threw his back out. Because his knee is not 100%, well it is not even 50%, he walks all catywhompus. So, trying to get ready for a day at the daily grind, his back went, "POP!" But being the trooper he is and a die-hard boss, he braved the pain and went to work anyway, only to come home a few hours later to lay in bed with his laptop and Blackbetty. God forbid he is not connected!

SO...
It is 4am on Tuesday, and Carl-E is trying to convince me that he can go to Florida for Christmas. Let me use my magic brush and paint the picture...
He is stilling in the living room chair with both legs sticking straight out in front of him, so that he appears to be a Ken doll that cannot bend at the hips; in other words he looks like a cadaver which rigamortis has set in. The grimace look on his face is not making me believe one word that was coming from his mouth. But, to give him props, he was really trying to convince me he was ok to travel.

However...
I was so not buying it! I put my wife foot down and said, "We are not going anywhere; we will stay here!" So, Christmas was put on hold until Carl-E's back is better. We had a nice day; I made duck and roasted eggplant. It was very yummy!

Now...
Let's talk about New Years resolutions. Normally, I do not make any, because if I fail, I'll be sad. And, nothing sucks more than being sad. But, this year is different. Because Carl-E and I had way too much extra time this holiday season due to Christmas being post-phone, he talked me into making a list. So, here it is; laugh away:

- I will be kinder to Mother Earth. I got a jump on this already. I purchased this adorable flower-print tote that folds into a tiny little square, and then slips into its own carrying case to I keep in my bigger LV tote, so I do not have to waste store bags! Also, I have a bizillon Publix re-usable bags, because every time I go and I am short by just one because I leave one at home, I buy a new one so I am not the only person in the store that gets the hairy eyeball from the rest of the shoppers because I am using the only plastic bag to carry out Carl-E's Special K waffles.
- I will recycle more. Nothing will go in my trash if it can be recycled. Even if this means I have to take out Carl-E using the straight arm or by sweeping his bad leg while he tries to toss out yet another Gator Aid bottle. I swear he bathes in that stuff; he drinks so much!
- I will sell more on Ebay. Hey, if I have not sported it in a year, why waste the space? I'll make extra cash and get more threads to fill the empty space!
- I will continue my exercise regiment. This is really not for me, but for Carl-E. If I do not exercise, I become nastier than a sale person at Neiman Marcus who would not locate for the mate of the adorable Fendi flat that I wanted to buy!
- I will try to save more money. Oh Hell, that's not going to happen especially with all those LV bags needing loving and caring homes.

With that tators, rock on!

Happy New Year and all that jazz!

"So the scissor leg; touch your heal, touch your toes!"

Dec 23: Festivus for the rest of us!

Happy "Roots Day!" So, if you gots them dark roots a-rockin', break out the bleach and hit them bad boys! Sportin dark roots are so 1990's.
Wait a minute, maybe "Roots Day" isn't about hair, could it be about heritage?
Well, if that's the case, dig deep into your family closet and see what little goodies you discover, and then when you see your fam for Christmas, you use these little nuggets to really get the conversation going after everyone as dipped into the olde eggnog!
Oh the holidays...

Speaking of which...
Yesterday, I ventured to, WAL-MART! Now, all my life I have never lived closer than 5 miles from a Wal-Mart. And this, tators was totally by design. I love me some Target, but the Big W scares me. Maybe it is because the super stores are way too super; as in big. And, they sell too many things; no focus like Louis Vuitton. Well, what ever the fear, I try to stay far, far,away. The last time I stepped my Tory Burch clad size 6 foot in a Wal-Mart was to apply for funding for AARF (NOTE: AARF is a wonderful animal rescue here in Hot-Lanta that I volunteer for). Now, because I am a giving person, I did not mind doing it for AARF, but for my family it is a totally different story.

So...
The ride to Wal-Mart should of taken, oh 15 minutes tops. But, since it is Hot-Lanta, it took 3x's as long, because it makes perfect sense to turn a two lane road into one lane to do work in the middle of the day. So, I whip into the almost full-to-capacity parking lot, and bee line for the front door. With the agility and spped of a jungle cat, a grab a shopping cart, and start gliding down the aisles, grabbing wrapping paper, Coke Zero, cat food and toys (NOTE: The babies needed a gift for their stockins), and dish detergent. Lastly, I grab two gift cards, which was the subject of my Wal-Mart mission.

And then...
I get in line, take out my eco-friendly tote bag (NOTE: Because I am all about savin' the Earth) to put my treasures in, hand the cashier my two gift cards and say, "$50 each please." Well, after oh 10,000 tries, the cashier informs me that the cards are defective (NOTE: Well, duh!). Out of all the friggin' cards in the whole mega-store, I pick the two; the two that do not work.

Now...
I bet even you can feel the heat from the peepers of the people in line behind me. I tired to exudes holiday cheer and smile my mega-watt too-much-beer-grin, but my friendliness was returned by frowns! Can you believe?! Now, the line is growing longer, the manager has to void my whole transaction, take everything out of my pretty tote, re-ring everything, get two new gift cards, and re-pack everything. From start to finish, I was at the register for 20 minutes! I knew as I left, people were wishing I would get it by a car on the way to my ride.

Well...
You might be asking, "Why did you have to get the gift cards?" Well, they are gifts for Helen Ellen and my monster-in-law (NOTE: We also got Helen Ellen Chanel #5, and I think I'll refer to my monster-in-law as "Sponge-Cindy-No-Cash," because she is constantly sucking bank for me). And, I had to get the cards before we left for O-Town, which was supposed to be this morning at 8am.

Let's talk about that...
Well, Carl-E threw his back out. Pop!goes his knee! Pop!goes his back! Pop!my brain! He can barley stand, let alone sit. So, Christmas is on hold, until...
I feel so bad for him.

Maybe I'll spritz on some Chanel #5 and go on a shopin spree at the Big-W, since all my Christmas gifts are at Helen Ellen's casa.

And then, maybe NOT!

Ho, ho, ho, everyone!

"Snap for the kids, snap for the kids, snap in a circle three times!"

Festivus

n. An alternative to the crass commercialization of Christmas, typically celebrated on December 23. It involves The Airing of Grievances (telling your family and friends all the ways they have disappointed you during the year) and does not end until the Feats of Strength (pinning the head of the family) are accomplished. A plain, metal pole is used in lieu of a Christmas tree, because decorations (such as tinsel) is distracting from the true meaning of the holiday.

A Festivus for the rest of us! -George Costanza

December 19: Perfect Gift???

Happy "National Oatmeal Muffin Day" tators! Now, I prefer an oatmeal cookie to an oatmeal muffin, but I prefer an oatmeal muffin to a muffin top. So, if you have any articles of clothing that create the slightest of mini-muffs, make it part of your New Year's resolutions and burn them babies, and go shoppin' for some new threads!

So, now that 2008 is almost to a close, let's slam the door on this bee-otch with a B-A-N-G!

Well...
Carl-E was guilted by Helen Ellen for us to take a vay-cay to the rockin' town of Bradenton. Now, I was not prepared for this journey, because Carl-E and I made a discussion way back in the day that we would stay in Hot-Lanta. So, when my other half dumped this bomb on me, let's say that I was not as happy as when I got my last LV!

Anywho...
Here it last Saturday, I have no list of Carl-E's wants for Ho-Ho Day, a trip to get ready for, and a really bad broken nail! OOCHY! But, rather than wallow in my sorrow or hold a private pity parade, I sprung into Wonder Woman mode.

1) I called the pet sitter, and begged her to take care of my babies. Because my kitties are the best in the universe, she could not refuse the opportunity to spend precious moments with them

2) I told Carl-E that if I did not get a list of wants by Sunday night, he would get a swift kick in the knee (NOTE: It's still swollen; poor baby!)

3) I got on line, and ordered The Honey Baked Ham and Carl-E's fav; the cheese cake sampler, wrote a list for my mother-in-law of other items I would need to whip up a Christmas feasty, signed a check to cover the costs, and dropped it in the mail to her

Come Monday...
I had all of Carl-E's gifts ordered and shipped to Helen Ellen's, and I thought I could kick back and chill the rest of the week.

Oh, but hellz no!
Monday evening, my beloved tells me that he needs gifts for his managers. And not just any gift, but a very specific gift; a wood case with wine implements, such as a cork screw, stoppers, etc. He wants 4 of the same and he needs them by...
WEDNESDAY!

The journey begins...
Tuesday I get up, cancel my pedi, go for a quick 10k, and then embark on my quest for Carl-E's perfect gift. So, I travel to a speciality store where I found lots of goodies pour moi, but not the goody that Carl-E wanted. So, I jumped back in the auto, and traveled to another store. Guess what? NADA! The next one; close but no cigar. The one after that; zilch! I began to think that Carl-E's gift was a myth, like anti-aging cream (NOTE: I know that we all want to believe that it really exists, but there is no such thing Virgina!)

Finally...
Three hours later,10 stores, and my spirits dampened; I locate the holy grail of corporate gifts at my last stop. There it was on the shelf, gleaming under the halogen lights; my foul language wails of desperation were answered! I was approached by a large but friendly store manager, who asked me if I needed help. I smiled a very large grin, and I pointed to the magical box, and said, "I'll take four of those, please!"

And then...
He said, "Sorry, that's my last one." My world suddenly crashed around my Burberry wellies, and this must of shown my face, because the manager-guy asked me if I was ok. Choking back a waterfall of tears, with hands flying, and speaking extremely fast, I blurted out my tale of woe. I know I looked totally pitiful, because he said to me, "Look I can give you this set (NOTE: Which was 20 greenbacks more) for the cost of the one you wanted." I was so elated, that I jumped up and down and clapped my hands like a total fool.

Never the less...
I came through once again for my man. I so rock, because that's how I roll, homey!

Have a fabu Christmas, Chaunukka, Kwanzaa, and every other winter holiday!

Loves ya!

December 12: I could not make this stuff up! PART DEUX

Ok, tators!

Drum role please.......

78 mags!

The fav......

"Inches"

Dates.....
1990-1999

Boy, someone liked to get their freak on!