Tricks and Treats

This Halloween I've decided to dress up as The Recession.  When the snot-nosed thieves trick-or-treaters come to my door I will emerge unshowered, wearing the same t-shirt and sweatpants I donned three days ago, holding a giant empty ceramic bowl. 

I just love holidays that double as civics lessons, don't you?

Update:  Good news! By next week the bowl will be filled with these.  Any bets on how long that 5 pound bag will last me?

Wordless Wednesday

Gratitude Sunday

I'm grateful to be having full blown PMS in the middle of a snowstorm. This way I can eat pie and ice cream with a shovel.

Oh, and I'm probably going to start eating visitors next, so you might want to think about leaving soon.

The Letting Go

"Great minds discuss ideas; Average minds discuss events; Small minds discuss people."  - Eleanor Roosevelt

By Eleanor's standards I was being small-minded in yesterday's post about the Best Man and his shitty wedding toast.  So I've decided that today I will elevate myself to average-minded status by discussing an event instead. 

Let's talk about how I just lost my job.  Ah look at me, I'm feeling average already!  Technically, I was "indefinitely furloughed" yesterday  wtf?!  Basically, they're still leaving the door open to bring me back should they actually start to make money and be able to pay the light bill again.  Of course, if I wait around indefinitely for their circumstances to change, my lights will get shut off.  So uh, sorry dudes but I've gotta follow the cash.  If that means becoming a drug mule for the local Brazilian mob, so be it.  A Flamingo's gotta put shrimp on the table somehow.

Feeling a bit deflated upon hearing the "we-hate-to-have-to-do-this" speech, I went in search of some inspirational words of wisdom. And Internet, I had no idea that Eleanor Roosevelt was so prolific in her wisdom!  Seriously, that woman must have talked non-stop. oops, small mind alert!  So today, let us take a look at unemployment through the eyes of one of our greatest First Ladies*.

*with comments by one of our smallest minds

"A woman is like a tea bag- you never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water."

At first this sounded great and I was all "I am woman, hear me roar" but then I got skeeved out by the idea that Eleanor Roosevelt said tea bag....

"The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience."

Even if that experience is cat food?

"You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do."

Nooooooo!

"People grow through experience if they meet life honestly and courageously. This is how character is built."

Just what I always wanted to be, a bag lady with character.

"I could not at any age be content to take my place in a corner by the fireside and simply look on."

Gee Eleanor, when you put it like that, I guess unemployment isn't gonna be so bad after all. That fireside looks great. Pass the chianti... 

Wedding Recap - When The Best Becomes The Worst

Upon the DJ's urging, we all rose to our feet, champagne glasses in hand, ready to toast the newlyweds after a few short words from the Best Man. In my experience, most BMs like to keep it short and sweet because they’re either:

A) terrified of public speaking
B) a little drunk
C) both

Unfortunately, it quickly became clear that this particular Best Man was not familiar with the concept of short and sweet. I swear this guy’s toast must have clocked in at a solid 18 minutes. Thank goodness I was wearing comfortable shoes.

And then we heard it, a kinda nerdy, kinda shy, kinda drunken voice emanating from the speakers on the DJ’s table. Unfortunately I couldn’t actually see BM from where I was sitting. As usual, Boy Wonder and I had been assigned to the wedding equivalent of the kids’ table at Christmas Dinner – shoved in a corner with the rest of the guests whom the Bride knows will likely drink too much, laugh too loud, and heckle the DJ at some point during the evening. 

BM began to speak of his childhood memories of growing up with the Groom - memories that included G’s penchant and freakish talent for the game of chess as well as BM’s pointless attempts at playing him. I could go into detail here, internet, but you really don’t want me to. It was basically just a bunch of chess blah blah blah he’s really good at it blah blah blah I suck at it blah blah blah is this microphone still on blah blah blah?.

Moments pass like molasses as BM’s little stroll down memory lane approaches the 9 minute mark. At this point I'm mainlining gin and tonic, afraid to look at BW or our friend C because I know we will all burst into fits of heckling laughter if I do. Then, pulling a non sequitur the likes of which I’ve never seen, BM launches into the second act of his monologue toast which goes something along the lines of there’s this restaurant that G likes blah blah blah where they serve 9 pound lobsters blah blah blah I never believed him blah blah blah until I ate there myself blah blah blah and wow, those really were some big lobsters blah blah blah G really likes lobsters blah blah blah.

Another 8 minutes and 45 seconds have oozed through the hourglass, during which time I have mainlined every other alcoholic beverage on our table and my toes have gone numb from standing.  Either that or they have a little buzz on.

Suddenly, in a final and utterly unexpected 15 second spurt toward the finish line, BM ties it all together with, I shit you not:

“So I guess what I'm trying to say is, B,  I really hope you can make G as happy as that 9 pound lobster did. Oh, and if you want to have a happy marriage, don’t ever challenge G to a game of chess.”

Really, Best Man?  Are you fucking kidding me?  That's your toast? 

THAT? 

..........................................

And so, as the evening waned, the Angels had bested the Red Sox, the Broncos had trampled the Patriots, my liver had been turned inside out like a used Ziploc bag, and the wait staff was using a crumber to sweep tiny little bits of brain matter off the table where my head had just exploded.

Footloose - Part 2

Mission accomplished! Here are the new shoes I found for tomorrow's big event....

Cute, huh?

They aren't exactly the dominatrix-type heel I used to wear back in my teens and twenties but they are INFINITELY more dance-able. After all, I'd prefer not to break an ankle during the shimmy down, down, down, down verse of Rock Lobster.

This little purchase led me to an unnerving discovery when I returned home and took a good long look at my shoe closet. Over the years it would seem I have been quietly amassing a patent leather army.

If variety is the spice of life, my spice rack needs a makeover.

Footloose

Can I get a “hell yeah” for Friday, y’all? Mmm hhhmm...thought so.

Just to keep you lurkers in the loop, my weekend plans are as follows:

Saturday
Go on recon mission for perfect shoes to wear to Sunday wedding. They must be sexy and stylish, (in keeping with the rest of my outfit and my bitchin' dance moves, yo) but not so sexy and stylish as to draw attention away from the bride. We do NOT want a recurrence of the Red Satin Pump Incident of 1994. Oh, and the new shoes also need to make my feet feel like I’m standing on clouds.

Hey, don’t act all surprised to learn that my feet are just as schizophrenic as the rest of me. You should know better by now.

Sunday
Wedding! Woohoo! Can’t wait to kick off my shoes and dance! You didn’t actually think the Trampinator 2000s would stay on my feet the whole night did you?

Monday
Recover.

And at some point later on, bitch to anyone about the fact that I think Columbus Day is a piece of shit holiday. What will we celebrate next, Hitler Day?

Oh and if , when I say recover, you infer that I will be sleeping in and Hulu-ing the most recent episodes of Survivor, Dollhouse and Gossip Girl, then good, we’re on the same page.

Song Lyric Sunday

It just occurred to me after 3 weeks of being in this mood (contemplative and uninspired vs. witty and motivated) that I'm in a valley.

I live in the hills
You live in the valley
And all that you know are those blackbirds
You rise every morning
Wondering what in the world will the world bring today
Will it bring you joy or will it take it away
And every step you take is guided by
The map of the light on the land and the blackbird's cry
You will walk in good company
The valley is dark
The burgeoning holding
The stillness obscured by their judging
You walk through the shadows
Uncertain and surely hurting
Deserted by the blackbirds and the staccato of the staff
And though you trust the light towards which you wend your way
Sometimes it feels all that you wanted has been taken away
You will walk in good company
I love the best in you
You love the best in me
And though it is not always easy
The lovely, the lonely
We will walk in good company
The shepherd upright and flowing
You see...



Most beautiful. fucking. voice. ever.