Jam it in the Hole and Watch it Light Up

The end of the world was originally supposed to happen on December 21^st.  Then it almost happened again today.  The unimaginable happened.  My laptop died and wouldn’t take a charge!  Next to buying makeup two shades off or finding no close parking spots at the store, this tops the list of First World problems.  I screamed for Brian who thought there was a fire when he came running in the room.  He just stood there looking around the room for this imaginary fire that must be here for me to scream like that.  Sure, like I would just sit cuddling with my laptop if there was a real fire.  I of course would have grabbed my computer and ran down the stairs yelling for Brian to grab the girls and my shoes and come down quickly; had it been a fire. 

“My laptop is dead!” I said.  Brian just rolled his eyes and walked out.  He added, “I think there is an extra charger in the spare closet”.  Insert thunderous choirs of doom here.  We have seen the floor of this 8’ x 8’ dungeon of darkness three times in the year and a half that we have lived here, which means, according to my records, I have lost something irreplaceable about three times.  Shylee also knew what it meant when she saw me starting to rampage the closet.  I saw her run away, run back, pick up the baby, and run away again. 

With the civilians out of the way, I tore through all of the boxes and every shelf in the dungeon.  It was nowhere to be found.  So I went back through all of the boxes again.  Mutherfucker!!!   I then went through all of the closets, under every bed, in and under the couch, through the desk drawers and hundreds of places that I have only seen about three other times in my house.  At one point I heard Shylee tell Brian she thinks Momma is having a nervous breakdown.  Brian came in to find me lying on the floor of Kaydance’s room like a lost and depressed starfish.  To my own credit, I was just lying there thinking about how awesome it would be if there were a beeper like on my car key fob so that every time I was looking for something I could hit the button and whatever I needed would start beeping so I could find it.  It would be my luck that this magical beeper would run on batteries.  Then of course its batteries would die and I would never be able to find more because I got so used to relying on the beeper, which is now dead.  Thus the depressed star fish look. 

So then I decided...hey maybe I can fix it!  Insert choirs of angels singing here, illuminated with soft white light.  I looked at the port where the charger plugs into and saw that the prongs had separated a little.  So I found another charger with a smaller plug and jammed it in there as hard as I could.  It shoved those two little deviant plugs together.  I plugged my old charger back into it and voila!  It now works...for the time being.  My boss just happened to call me minutes after this revelation so I just had to tell him.  Mind you, he is the boss over all things computer for the whole building.

Me:  Hey I just fixed my laptop.

Computer Boss:  Did you use anything I tought you at work?

Me:  Um, yes I think so.

Computer Boss:  What did you end up doing?

Me:  First I tried jamming pliers into the charging hole, but then I decided to use something smaller and jammed it in there instead.  It worked!

Computer Boss:  OMG, I have failed.

Me:  What were you calling about?

Computer Boss:  I have no idea.  Have a good day.

Me:  You too, sir.

I think I stunned him with my awesomeness. 

PS  I was originally going to call this “It’s Fine to Just Jam it in the Hole”, but Brian said, “Classy Honey”, which of course means it wasn’t classy at all.  He calls it sarcasm or something, so I went with the given title.   

Giving Karma the Bird

Sorry I haven’t posted more lately.  Kaydance brought home The Child Sickness.  It’s the same nasty thing being spread in daycares and schools everywhere.  It’s passed when a child sees a sticky nasty thing and thinks; hmm I think I want to eat that, nom nom nom.  I’m sure Karma believes if you’re dumb enough to put nasty warm germs in your mouth, then you deserve to get sick.  Then you see your children come home, unaware of the bird they just flipped to Karma, and you kiss them.  That’s when Karma says, if you’re dumb enough to kiss someone who just put nasty warm germs in their mouth, then you deserve to get sick too dummy.  Karma is a cruel bitch sometimes.

So here I am sick because I too gave karma the bird.  My blogs (and useless hours of shopping-for-expensive-shit-I’m-not-really-going-to-buy and watching-YouTube-videos-of-people-getting-hurt-because-they-gave-Karma-the-bird-too) will all be done next to my sad, sad mountain of used tissues and clementine peels. 

Kaydance’s daycare warned me when I picked her up last Friday that Hand Foot and Mouth Disease is going around.  It’s not nearly as bad as it sounds, but make sure that you don’t accidentally tell people that you have Hoof and Mouth Disease.  After WebMD’ing it I have learned that that is a whole different ailment.  I have had no visitors since. 

Update:  I have hit an all-time low. Musicals sound good right now.  When Brian gets up and sees Momma Mia! and the orange and white mountain of sadness, he for sure is going to leave.  I just hope he takes the children; I’m mad at all children today.

Update 2:  I just realized it’s my anniversary, which means Brian can’t leave me to die on the couch alone, because that would give him bad Karma.  Things are looking up, or I'm just talking in cold medicine induced circles.  Either way, Happy 7th Anniversary to us!

Don't Punch Children in the Head

Today I bring you a public service announcement.  This PSA is here to remind people, Don’t Punch Children in the Head.  I was going to call it, Parents, Don’t Punch Your Children in the Head, but then I realized the damage is about the same, no matter the biological connection. 

Last night Kaydance got up three times in the night because she’s teething, and sharp little things ripping through her gums disrupts her sleep.  Perhaps Brian could have heard her over his own snoring, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.  On the third time that I got up I started this inner-monolog with myself that can only seem semi-rational in the middle of the night.  Like deciding to change your daughter’s name from Kaydance to Cane-dance, like Cane and Able kind of Cane-Dance.  It seemed logical a few hours ago.  Welcome to my brain, I hope you survive the trip.

Me:   OMG I want to punch her in the head.  Why does she keep waking me up?

Me:   Stop.  You wouldn’t really punch a baby in the head.  Would you?

Me:  I don’t know.  Not this kid, but I have met some children who I would like to punch in the head.

Me:  Would you do it if everyone was doing it?

Me:  I don’t think so.  I would like to say that I am above peer pressure, but getting drunk and can-can dancing at the Christmas party tells me differently. 

Me:  Would you do it if there was a gun to your head?

Me:  Can we still say it’s some other kid?  Then yeah, I think I would punch a kid in the head if there was a gun to my head.

Me:  Should I stop thinking about this?

Me:  Um yes, most definitely.

So, for the record I would only punch someone else’s kid in the head (which seemed better at the time) if there was a gun to my head.  And I know that there are some people out there who are reading this, thinking, OMG I could never punch a kid in the head.  I know way too many people, who I assume have been punched in the head as children, to believe that.  Only now, I better understand how that happened.  I have also met some really terrible children, but please remember Don’t Punch Children in the Head.

Good Pet Bad Pet

It was the best of pets; it was the worst of pets, and I’m still currently obsessed with pets.  I have come up with a list of acceptable pets and unacceptable pets for me.  Your list of acceptable pets could be completely different depending on your needs.  Remember, pets like children and husbands are there for you, not the other way around.  I can say that because Brian doesn’t read my blog.  It goes without saying that children are hands down the worst pets of all.  Despite children, here is a list of my favorite and least favorite pets to have.  All of these facts I found on the internet, so of course it is safe to assume they are 100% correct.

Worst Pets

5:  Butterflies

You would think that butterflies would make excellent pets, but you are thinking about the pretty full grown, brightly colored butterfly.  Imagine the heartbreak of getting a little larva to call your own, raising and nurturing it, only to find out that out of the cocoon pops a motherfuckin moth!  Butterflies only live in their “pretty stage” for at most a year.  Even goldfish will hold out longer than that.  Have you ever tried playing catch with a butterfly?  They suck.  Butterflies have taste receptacles in their feet.  I can see my kids now, putting their feet on the table and me yelling at them.  “Ah, but mom, Flutters is doing it.” 

4.  Chickens

Sure, they can supply you with a healthy breakfast, but it’s just not worth it.  There are more chickens on earth than there are humans.  Sounds like a takeover to me.  And with Gingers on a constant decline, I will be eating chicken tonight!  Chickens are also the closest living relative to the T-Rex.  I can see myself coming home after work to a dark house and as soon as I step in the living room the TV flashes on to the scary T-Rex scene from Jurassic Park (you know, the bathroom one, such a shitty way to go).  After calming down from a near panic attack I would see the chicken just clucking it up on the couch with the remote.  Chickens are assholes like that.

3:  Scorpions…and not for the reasons you’d think

Did you know if you put a scorpion under ultraviolet lights they glow neon blue?  Anyone who glows blue and doesn’t whistle while they work are freaks.  They rely on vibrations to tell them about their environment.  That with the neon part insinuates that they are true clubbers and party animals.  I’m way too much of a home-body for that shit.  Strangely enough, scorpions are also sensitive to sunlight.  Ugh that position has already been filled, pointy ass.

2:  Jellyfish

Despite the name, these brainless/cunning little creatures are not actually fish.  They are transparent, and seeing as they live in water they would most likely be kept in the bathtub.  This would cause some problems.  After my daughter gets out of the bath she often forgets to drain the water, so I go in after her and put my hand down in the water to drain it.  That’s when the cunning jellyfish would attack 7 Pounds style.  A group of jellyfish is called a smack. I don’t even like “Smacks” cereal.  Jellyfish have been around for about 650 million years, technically making them a dinosaur.  We have already discussed problems that can come from associating with dinosaurs.  The largest known jellyfish according to the interwebs was eight feet and its tentacles were half the length of a football field.  Try coming home to that and not pooping.

1:  Penguins

They might be cute, and dressed for an occasion, but don’t let them fool you.  They are slow as shit.  What do you do with a penguin during a zombie apocalypse?  You leave them behind and run because they are super slow and heavy, so you will get eaten.  The zombie probably won’t even try to eat the penguin because I have never seen a zombie eating a penguin in a movie, so it’s safe to assume they are too fishy.  Penguins don’t live at the North Pole.  I feel that they gave out false advertising when I was a kid.  They can stay under water for 20 minutes at a time.  Try playing Marco Polo with your pet penguin.  No don’t, because you will die.  And they are birds…that don’t fly.  That’s like being an optimistic ginger.  What’s the point?

Best Pets

5:  Zonkey

A zonkey is an exotic mix of zebra and donkey.  I would have to keep mine on my balcony since I don’t have a yard, or pen.  Since my neighbors that live below me are semi-retarded, I wouldn’t mind putting in a small hole in the patio floor and teaching my zonkey to poop there.  Great pay back for waking my kid up at one o’clock in the morning because you’re sooo cool.   It’s nice living in the penthouse (except on grocery day).  For the record, my mother-in-law and I are the only ones that refer to my 4^th floor apartment as a penthouse, but we can.  So we do.

4:  Kangaroo

Kangaroos have big thighs, so when I’m sitting at home feeling fat, Kanga would sit next to me on the couch and put her arm around me and give me that I know, me too look.  Kangaroos eat grass.  When we move back to the states and Brian says, “Hey did you mow the yard today?”  I could be like Kanga did it while I was watching Dr. Phil (since Oprah is off the air).  They can surprisingly also swim.  Who needs Lassy when you have a kangaroo?  Kangaroos also have super powerful back legs that can be deadly.   I can keep one in my trunk when driving places.  If someone tries to attack me, I will just pop the trunk.  Car jack me and I will kangaroo yo’ face!  Plus after we become good friends, Kanga will let me keep my car keys in her pouch so that I always know where they are.   That will save me a good 15 minutes EVERY morning.

3:  Ferret

Back when Brian and I first got married, we had a pair of ferrets.  Sure they smelled but they were living in Brian’s house (we had to live in different states for our jobs) so I was fine with it.  Anyway we would play with them in a way that dogs and children will let you down.  Did you know you can “bowl” with ferrets?  It’s awesome.  You just roll them into a ball and chuck them like you would a bowling ball.  I would say they’re dumb because they just keep coming back for more and more; but I can’t say they’re dumb because they were too awesome to call them that.  I also put their poop in a paper bag and left it at the door stop of someone I didn’t like.  Dog poop ain’t got nothin’ on ferret poop.

2:  Chimpanzee

Sure, they have been in the news for attacking their owners and strangers, but I feel that they have been overlooked for their true potential.  I would like to have a chimp that can come to work with me and sit on my desk.  When someone walks in who I don’t want to help, I can say, “Now toot-toot (because that would be his name).”  And he would use his long chimp arms to slap them across the face and point to the door.  Then as they leave he can laugh at them in only the way that a fucking chimp can.  Potential achieved. 

1:  Sloth

Not only do they come in two stylish varieties, two toed or three toed, but they are just fucking awesome.  They move so slow that algae grows on their fur.  This would be handy for a number of reasons.  Only a dead mailman wouldn’t be able to run away from your pet, you would always know which direction is north and your pet isn’t going to judge you when you spend all day on the couch watching a Bones marathon.  In fact, he’ll probably think you are extremely active for getting up to pee every four hours.  Sloths only pee once a week.  They’re perfect apartment pets.  Sloths also have an extra vertebra in their necks allowing them to turn their heads 270 degrees.  New yoga partner?  I think so.  I bet they would look awesome in some yoga pants. 

What's your perfect pet?

 

My Two Pets

I’m obsessed with having a reindeer farm, gypsies, and PETS.  While we live in Germany, we have to live in a 1000 sq. foot apartment on the fourth floor.  So getting a new pet would be a challenge, since I already have two other pets.  One pet’s name is Shylee, and although she is very friendly she makes big messes all over the house, constantly needs to go outside to be walked, and is always a mess despite constant grooming.  My other pet’s name is Kaydance.  She is very loving (if she feels like it).  She often gets so excited at meal time she drools.  She is not house trained yet either.  Pets always look silly wearing diapers, but Brian insists we keep one on her.  One night I saw in infomercial for fake grass that your pets can use to go potty on.  Brian ruined my plans when he said she’d never use it.  Stubborn pets. 

My pets are always following me around too.  I haven’t found a pen or a hitching post that will work yet.  I tried putting them in a kennel one time, but Brian had to ruin that too and let them out.  He ruins all of my good plans.  The pets follow me EVERYWHERE.  I assume it’s because I taught them “heel” and they just never forgot it.  I’m a great teacher. 

So now I have to run away faster than them and shut the door and lock it before they get to me.  Of course in our apartment, the only door that locks is the bathroom door.  I’ve locked myself in the bathroom before only to find little fingers come in under the door.  It’s like a scene from a zombie movie.  You know they’re searching for you.  They want you and they’re not leaving without you.

My big pet talks.  “Mom, what are you doing?  Can I come in?  Want me to read you a book while you go potty?” 

“I’m not going potty; I’m hiding from you in the fetal position on the bathmat.”

So as you can see, I am an excellent candidate for getting a new pet.  Only this time, I want one that doesn’t take a whole year just to learn to walk, one that can start potty training at eight weeks, and one that doesn’t give me dirty looks if I do pigtails when she wanted braids.  Compared to my pets, I think a pet lion would be easier to keep.  I will stay up late tonight researching pets I should consider.  If it is a big animal like a zebra or zonkey (zebra-donkey hybrid) I will have to look into putting a poop shoot and net on the balcony. 

3000 Page Views and Counting!

 

 Thank you for reading my rants day in and day out.  You have given me validation and support in a way I never expected.  Here's to another 3000 views! (I have wine in hand.  I will cheers for you.)

Gypsies and Pick-Pocketers

I don’t just get interested in things, I get obsessed with things.  I have been obsessed with having a reindeer farm, harem pants, eating vegan (not eating vegans, that’s gross), blogging, and Iceland just to name a very few.  On our road trip my in-laws mentioned the Italian Gypsies, so I looked into them.  The Roma Gypsies are descendants from Romania who (for the most part) live in big dirty settlement camps.  My mother-in-law told me a story about a woman they know who went to Italy and the gypsies gassed their room and stole their valuables.  Then I became obsessed.  I read about them every time I got Wi-Fi.  I read a story about a baby-nabbing teenager, and how some gypsies are pick-pocketing pros.   I was on a mission to find the “bad” gypsies (since even in the ginger community not everyone is a bad guy...well in theory at least).  I left a Euro sticking out of my back pocket and when someone would get close...I would spin around to face my pick-pocketer!  I didn’t find any pick-pocketers this way, but I did hit several people with my backpack, including Brian who wasn’t even a little bit impressed with my detective skills. 

Plan B.  The Baby Decoy.  I put the backpack in the stroller and carefully covered it with a blanket and walked around the corner before the rest of the family.  I would leave the stroller and walk away about 10 feet to look at something.  No one noticed that I had left a stroller all by its little lonesome except Brian who would walk up holding the baby and grab the stroller and yell at me, “Damn it Chelsea, why do you leave stuff just laying around everywhere?”  Seven years of marriage and he still asks me that question weekly.  Despite my best efforts to get someone to steal my baby, no takers. 

Plan C.  The Stakeout.  Brian and I were sitting at a table drinking an espresso, because only tourists drink cappuccinos after 11...obviously, or so I learned after three days of drinking cappuccinos all afternoon.  I left five euro out on the edge of the table as bait.  If you know me well, you know that I was desperate because I like spending money like Brian likes cleaning up after me “all the time”.  Kaydance dropped her bottle so I bent over to pick it up.  When I came back up, the money was gone!  Damn gypsies, I didn’t even see anybody walk by the table.  They’re good. 

Update:  Upon doing laundry when we get home I learned that my little gypsy Shylee waited until no one was looking and took the money and stuffed it in her pocket. 

Update numero two:  I did find a pick-pocketer after all.  Maybe I should stop leaving my stuff lying around. 

 

Update numero three:  I am still obsessed with gypsies, and owning my own reindeer farm.

Image from www.fineartamerica.com

 

I googled "reindeer farmer" and was excited to see another ginger on a reindeer farmer.  Then thought, Oh god, what is she doing to that poor reindeer baby?  I promise not to do this to a reindeer or a gypsy.

 

Kindergartener Induced PTSD

We’re back from our vacation!  I missed all of my Ginger Riotters who give me a daily dose of validation and support.  We had a great time, but just like always it’s nice to come home.  In fact I’m a homebody.  The night we got home I locked myself in my bedroom, laid on my bed and watched Bones in the candle light for a good three hours.  What can I say?  Once an introvert nerd, always an introvert nerd I guess.  I did have a really good time though.  We drove from Germany to Austria, Venice, Verona, Florence, Rome, Pisa, Milan and Switzerland.  We weren’t planning on stopping in Switzerland but when the cops are looking for you and give you a two car parade, how can you refuse?  This post isn’t about Switzerland though...because Brian has a gag order on me to not talk about it.  When that’s lifted, or when he takes his eye off of me, I will share.  For now, we’re going to talk about the van ride.  We were on the road for seven days, and in those seven days 25 hours of it were in the van.  Have you ever ridden next to a five year old for a WHOLE day trapped in a car?  If you care about your sanity, or don’t want to go to jail don’t do it!  No one would switch me places either.  Assholes.  Actually they thought I was the asshole. 

 

This is what really happened:

Shylee:  (20-something-brain-piercing-wrong-lyricing-hours-of-singing-later) WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK POO! 

Me:  It’s rock you, but can we please just have some silence?

Shylee: (Ignores me and keeps singing great songs completely wrong.  She might as well be Britney Spears.) 

Me:  Hey, come on.  Let’s be quiet for five minutes.  Momma is going to tie your pony tails under your chin so you can’t open your mouth.

Shylee:  (Keeps singing)

Me:  Please Shylee.

Shylee:  Want to hear a song?

Then I lost it.  Remember... 20+ hours of singing!

This is what everybody else heard:

Shylee:  Want to hear a song?

Me:  Holy shit.  I don’t want to ever hear another song ever again.  If I hear another song I am going to stuff hamsters in my ears and let eat my brain.  No more singing ever again.

She gave me a sad face, and everyone else gave me a “You’re such an asshole” look.

This is what really happened:

I’m super sensitive to gluten so there are only so many snacks I can eat on a car ride.  On one stop I got out to change Kaydance’s diaper and got back in to find that Shylee ate my gluten free jerkey.  Another stop I got back in to find Shylee had eaten all of my gluten free fruit, and then I found Shylee one bite away from eating the last of my chocolate (gluten free).  Mind you, she had tons of snacks she said she wanted, and could have eaten instead.  She also knew that those other snacks “make mommy sick”.  When I found my beloved chocolate had been murdered, I just looked at her in disbelief since I had told her repeatedly to leave the momma snacks alone.  She held the last little piece of chocolate out to me and said, “Oh hey mom, want some?”  That’s when I lost it.

This is what everyone else saw and heard:

Shylee:  Offering me a piece of chocolate, saying, “Oh hey mom, want some?” 

Me:  Shylee!  Are you kidding me?  Why would you eat my chocolate?  You are riding on the roof all the way home?  Better yet we’re dragging you on your sled so you can eat mud, because its gluten free and you LOVE gluten free food.  Where is your sled?

Shylee wasn’t a bit bothered by what I had to say, in fact she kept whispering, asking me when she could ride on her sled behind the van.  Everyone else thought I was an asshole.

This went on with nose picking, mouth breathing, licking the window, and lots of annoying things that no one should be subjected to.  Don’t judge me, you don’t know what it’s like to have Kindergartener induced PTSD.

 

I'm out!

I'm out!  Well early tomorrow morning, I will be out. Out of town, out of the interwebs, out of the country, out of touch with technology, out of touch with reality (more than already), and out on vacation with my family.  I will be back in a week, hopefully refreshed with some good stories.  Although, how many funny things could happen on a week long road trip with my in laws in a euro van?  If we all make it home alive...

 

Please keep the blog going while I'm gone.  Post funny pictures and YouTube videos on the Ginger Riott facebook page (http://www.facebook.com/gingerriott).  I'd really love to see what funny stuff you're doing this week while I'm gone.  It's holiday party season, snow season with drivers who prefer to drive in ditches, snowballs to the face season, and awkward family get together.  Share your funny pictures on the FB page!  I'll miss your feedback.  Thank you so much for all of the support. 

 

Watch out Italy, the Iott's are coming!  :-)  Look forward to some sweet vacation photos.

 

 

Shylee May Be Jewish

The girls and I were walking to the car to start our day this morning and I found out Shylee may be Jewish.

Shylee:  Wait! (Suddenly stopping in her tracks) What month is it?

Me:  December.

Shylee:  YES!  I love this month.

Me: Yeah me too.

Shylee:  Because of all the presents the candles bring you?

Me:  Are you talking little kid gibberish?  I don’t know what you just said.

Shylee:  You know, when I light a candle, I get a present.

Me:  Gibberish.  Speak English child.

Shylee:  The rabbit brings candles, you light them up, and he gives you presents.

Me: (Going out on a limb.) Are you talking about Hanukkah? 

Shylee:  Yes! You forgot for a minute huh?

Me:  It’s a Rabbi, not a rabbit.  And you know you’re not Jewish right? 

Shylee:  That’s really mean.

Me:  No it’s not.  I’m telling you that you’ve never been Jewish.  Who told you about Hanukkah?

Shylee:  Miss Jessica (A lady who works at her before and after school program).

Me:  What do you know about Hanukkah?

Shylee:  I know what a Menorah is, a dreidel, a yarmulke, a Hanukkah is. Tons of stuff!

Me:  Oh, please tell me.  What is a Menorah? 

Shylee:  Um, it’s a place.

Me:  Where?

Shylee:  In ‘merica.

Me:  What’s a dreidel? 

Shylee:  It’s a building.

Me:  In America?

Shylee:  Yes!

Me:  And a yarmulke?

Shylee:  A boat.  Going to...’merica.

Me:  And Hanukkah?

Shylee:  A TV.  On a building.

Me:  In America?

Shylee:  Yes!

So, as you can see we are obviously Jewish.  When we got to the before and after school building, I asked Miss Jessica if she talked to Shylee about Hanukkah.  She said, “Yeah I am half Jewish, so I get Christmas presents and my dad sends me Hanukkah gifts too.   So we were talking about that yesterday.” 

Me:  You get Christmas presents and Hanukkah presents?  You are a genius!

 A few songs from some real Jews...

 

Don't Shank Princess

 

To be honest, I had more fun thinking of a name for this post than writing it itself.  It’s about inmates who have pet cats.  Do you know how many jokes about pussies in lock-up I came up with as titles?  Brian told me how unsuitable they all were, so “Don’t Shank Princess” it is!  State-ran prisons across the country have been taking rescued stray cats, and are giving them to inmates.  The goal is for them to rehabilitate each other.  The prisoners say they have to earn the cats trust before the cats will allow them to touch them.  Having pussies to chase after that they are allowed to touch; I imagine that is a change of pace in a men’s prison.  How did they get cats anyway?  “Sorry dude, you could have gotten a dog to train but we thought this was a better metaphor for your life.”

The inmates risk losing their kitties if they are caught doing something against prison rules.  No pussy if you’re bad?  That’s not a new concept.  What?  Can you imagine the conversations that must have come up in the yard?  “Dude I would totally shank you, have my way with you, and tattoo your mom’s face on my butt, but they would take away Snuggles.” 

In Washington state, inmate Joey named his cat Princess Natalie. Covered in scratches he said, "We don't know what she's in here for.  She won't tell us."  I believe he may be in for drug use. 

The Washington state program is called “Cuddly Catz”.  The cats are allowed to have daily walks on a leash.  Think about those guys acting like thugs later with pictures like these out in the world? 

Photo from Seattletimes.com

 

Don’t fuck with me bra, I know some hard ass mother fuckers still in the Cuddly Catz system!

Pussies in the pen?  I am a fan.  And their cats are cool too.  Please don’t shank me for writing this. 

 

 

 Image from backyardbandits.blogspot.com

Hello December...you hurt my head

December is my favorite month in the whole year!  My birthday, my anniversary, Jesus’ birthday, Adam Sandler’s Chanukah is played on the radio, there’s usually snow, wearing cute boots with fur becomes “sensible”, and I’m always covered up so I don’t have to hear the usual, “You’re so white” (because I had noooo idea). Who wouldn’t love December?

This year I brought in December with a bang, on the bathroom floor, at the Christmas party...with all of my co-workers one room over.  Happy December, I’m still alive!

The night started out great.  I was sober, I had a babysitter, and I got to hang out with my husband and some of my friends, (although my bestie Lauren wasn’t there). 

Here I am with Brian at the beginning of the night.

We went to the bar and on the advice of my friend Holly; I got a double Malibu with Sprite.  If you haven’t tried it, I recommend it.  I don’t recommend drinking one before a bottle of red wine, and a half of a bottle of white wine, but a Malibu with Sprite is delightful. 

One of Santa’s friendly elves came to our table and I got a couple pictures taken with him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They announced that we would have to sing for our supper, so each table had to come up and sing a Christmas song before we were allowed to go to the buffet room.  Instead of waiting our turn to go sing, I poured a big glass of wine for one of my supervisors and told him to down it because I was hungry so we needed to go sing. I downed my wine with him...to be polite of course.  Six of us went to the middle of the floor. The three guys sang Santa Baby (and when I say sang I mean the worst wall paper peeling rendition ever) and three of us ladies did the Can Can dance.  We didn’t get to the end of the song before they just told us we could go eat.  “Just, just go.”  Brian didn’t come down to sing.  He made a lot of good choices last night that I didn’t make. 

After the bottle of red wine, Santa came to our tables to say hello.  I said hello too. 

 

This is when my list of regrets started.  We first met up with Santa about 20 minutes before he came to the table.  He was getting dressed in his costume just outside the bathrooms.  While my friend Cheryl was talking to him, I started going through his bag.  No toys.  He did however have some furry cuffs in the bag so I stole them and ran back to the table with my arms up and the cuffs around my forearms yelling, “I just took advantage of Santa!”  Sorry santa.  I’ll understand if you put me on your bad girl list this year.

There was some dancing and lots of fun conversation, and some white wine.  The last thing I really remember was singing to Garth Brooks with my bosses and friends in the middle of the room.  They'll always be my friends in low places.  The next thing I remember was being in a bathroom stall...which none of which needs to be relived.  Brian carried me to the car and took me home.  I don’t plan on drinking again until New Years...2055. 

I had a blast with my friends last night.  And with the good there was some bad. 

Here is a list of my (least) favorite things, the things I really regret from last night. 

·         Dancing like a Can-Can girl...in a short skirt

·         Mixing three different kinds of alcohol

·         Touching a pregnant lady’s tummy (that shit would never happen sober)

·         Professing to one of my old bosses that he was an amazing boss (I think I could have found a way of telling him without hugging him three times and promising to make him BLT’s everyday forever) I could write a whole other post on RayBev though....and I think I will.

·         Eating a whole plate of potato croquettes

·         Ensuring I am going to get coal for Christmas...I’m sorry Santa.  I don’t know where I left your cuffs.

·         Puking on Brian’s car and coat.  If you know how much he loves his car Gloria, you would know that I’m lucky to be alive

·         Ugh...everything after 10PM

·         How I felt this morning

Happy December!  It’s going to be a wild ride.

 

P.S.  I have the GREATEST husband in the whole world.  I love you babes.

P.P.S  Don't videotape yourself singing. You DO NOT sound good, and you DO NOT want to hear it ever again!