Category Archives: Humour

Socks has a (large) Raspberry!

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Howdy! Oirish Tirsday was back on Thursday again, so another marathon phone call took place.

After we got my job-interview sagas out of the way, I asked how Halloween went at her place, as this is the first one she’s had there. She was tired, but manned the door for the eve.

Best Costume was won by a dad who was dressed as Bob Ross. Ya gotta love a man who picks Ross as a costume! She’d love to know, are they artists? Or was he just a quick thinker with an Afro and a palette sitting around?

Second prize went to a small boy dressed as Mario of SuperMario fame. She offered him the candy bowl and his response, said in the manner of Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons, was: “Oh. Skittles. I have not seen those for a very long time.” Poor little geek-kid. You just know he’s not going to grow out of that voice.

We also talked about how neither of us ever did a trick to anyone. Except, she said, once on her birthday she and her friends toilet-papered a house. But that doesn’t really count, because her dad drove the getaway car, and bought the TP for them to use.

So, on to the baby-growing update! She’s still in fruit stages of development, and this week BabySocks is a large raspberry. I can’t help wonder what the book is going to say when she is further along…will they be brave enough to say cantaloupe? Watermelon? Don’t tell me, Socks, I love the giggle every week when you tell me the new fruit.

Raspberry now has a head bigger than the body and looks less like a lizard. It is growing hands, knees, elbows, lips, nose, and eyelids. There’s some twitching movement, too, but nothing she can feel.

Speaking of feel, the container BabySocks is growing in is now the size of a grapefruit, but she can’t feel any bump or lump yet. Seems like you would, doesn’t it? I asked if she is in the habit of sleeping face-down, because that would probably have to change. But she doesn’t, so sleeping will still be comfy.

Socks is still nauseated, and/or has a sour stomach. Food is becoming an annoyance – not a big deal, but eating has to be thought out in advance. Things that sound really, really, good turn out to be ‘meh’ when on the plate; the happiness of mealtime is a bit lacking. Even her home-cooked mac n cheese was “Not as awesome as it sounded on paper.”

She’s still tired, too, and can see a difference when she doesn’t get enough iron in a day. Zzzzz. Bear took her on a drive through the country to look at the autumn leaves, and she slept through them all. She was hungry, out of snacks and feeling ill from lack of food. But the restaurant he had planned on stopping at was closed. She said she felt terrible that she was spoiling the day by feeling sick and sleepy and didn’t want to tell him. As usual, more worried about others than herself.

All in all, not too bad, really! When she told Bear that she felt pretty good, and was surprised given her family’s pukey history, he leaned back, hooked his thumbs in his belt, and said, “I’m a cattleman. I can pick out a good breeder.”

And she not only let him live, she laughed.

Job hunting in the wild, wild whest of Ireland

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Wow, total panic there for a bit! My WordPress app crashed on opening my blog. Restart the iPad, no. Check for updates, yes there was one, update, crash. Update a lot of other shite since I’d already entered my iTunes password, restart, WordPress crash. Check forums, nothing. Panic. Will I lose all my crap if I delete the app and reinstall? Bite the bullet and delete and reinstall, restart.

Working! All my crap is still smelling as rosy as it ever did. Whew. An iPad shouldn’t need restarting so much, but I live with an IT manager so I’ve learned good habits. Hell, I need a nap every now and again, too. I drive this thing hard, poor Shiny Happy (from the engraving iDJ had put on the back).

Interesting, though, to find myself actually worried and jonesing for my writing fix. Am I showing my age and slightly dodgy history with the term ‘jonesing?’ I can explain it. Really. Anyhoo, I’m pleased to learn that when I want to write, nothing else will do. I considered giving up and doing a Brushes painting instead, but I’ve not had a good subject since Usyaka, so I’m less than inspired. Despite doing a post earlier today, I really felt a need to blurt out my random thoughts and the schtuff that happened today.

So! Job interview! It went really well, I think. I liked yer man, and I think he took me seriously. When I said things that might come off ‘wrong,’ he understood and agreed with me. He wasn’t up his own hole, he was a real person and even cursed a few times. He mentioned doing so later, so an ‘oh yes, I’ve a potty-mouth, too’ bonding occasion was born. I think I’m in – but I felt that about the last job and was way wrong. That interview was about 10 minutes long and felt like 20, this one was 45 and felt like 10. I do take the length of the interview as a good sign, too.

Unfortunately, I won’t know for a while if I’m hired. Fortunately, he explained why it will take time, and it is a valid reason.

I also did another interview, of a sort, today. Go, me! This one is for a call centre customer support job at a company that makes computer and platform games. A possible nightmare for me, as I’m not good at bending over and taking one for the team. At least the customers are all nerds and I totally speak nerd. I decided to apply because I’m a Yank, and we Yanks know the customer service rules, don’t we? I might hate myself at the end of every shift, but I’d give good CS nonetheless.

The fun part about the application process is that it has been entirely on-line so far. I registered, uploaded my CV (résumé), and my ‘first interview’ was also online, in the form of a questionnaire.

Not so much fun. I could tell they are US-based when The Dreaded Question popped up: Where Do You See Yourself In Five Years?

Really?

Really?

I’d even joked in my ‘real’ interview about that very question, and the one where they ask If You Were A Vegetable, What Would You Be? So, I might have been a little sarcastic in my response. But not nearly as sarcastic as I’d have liked to be. I did say “I’m not as young as I was yesterday” which is a thickly-veiled hint that I’m too fucking old to answer stupid questions. Or perhaps they are too up their own arses to see that?

Maybe I was just trying to say that I’d kiss the customer’s arse, but not theirs. I donno. The pay starts higher than the ‘real’ interview, but it is much further away (if you think gas in the US is expensive, I’ll tell you what we pay) and would be nights and weekends, oh joy. I’m also too old for that shit, and have been for a while. I’ll suck it up, though, to not lose my house.

Sheeeeit, I feel like I’m on a downer note now! I’m not, really. I’m over the moon to have had not one but two chances at employment today, after so long without a response or even anything I could apply for. Yay!

Right, I should wrap this up as dinner is almost ready. I still feel like I’m leaving on a low note, so here is my dawg being adorable:

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That’s my foot she’s holding on to, and still is:

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What I like best about this is that she lay down, then reached out and grabbed me. It reminds me of my Bengal, Spot, who has to, has to, touch my face if he can reach it. I have successfully created a dog-cat. Or a cat-dog… Love my furry kids.

Cucurbita maximas in flight!

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My hands are all smelly and prune-y from cooking two massive pumpkins this afternoon. I have a lot of pumpkin now. I also have very little freezer space. Dammit. Because they weren’t pie pumpkins, they are really watery. I’m letting the massive clump of mush drain, but I have no idea where to put it all. If I have time tomorrow, I’ll blitz it in the food processor in the hopes of reducing the sheer volume of gourd guts.

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I might not have time because, drum roll please, I have a job interview tomorrow! Woot! It sounds like a good one, too – in other words, not retail. Although I’m not turning down retail at this point, uh-uh. However, I’ll take the higher pay that (hopefully) comes with an office job.

I used to have a doctor appointment tomorrow, finally, for my back. When the potential employer rang I said ‘yes I am free’ without even thinking about the damn orthopaedist. So I had to ring the hospital today and reschedule (they were closed yesterday for the holiday). I’ve been waiting for this appointment since June 2010, yes. But I’ve been unemployed since February 2010, so the bad back has to wait until the 16th now. They were very nice on the phone at least – I was totally honest and maybe that’s why it is only another 2 weeks instead of months. I know damn well not to call up and reschedule a job interview because I made a stupid mistake.

Oh dear. iDJ strikes again. He made a fire for me, and it isn’t staying lit.
Me: “Your fire went out again. The damn thing is useless.”
iDJ: “It loves you!”
Me: “Go away. Go away now.”

Earlier, I had to point out to him that he was talking to the fancy cheese he was nibbling on. I wonder about that man.

I bet I did something today that none of the rest of you did! I am totally willing to put money on it. Because I have none. I’d bet something really valuable, but on the tiny chance I lost, I doubt my cats would like you as much as they like me. I can stake a husband that talks to cheese? No takers? Okay then, you’d lose anyhow.

I watched someone try to start a helicopter while I was stark-ass naked.

Told you I’d win that one! I will, however, offer a consolation prize to the best guess of how I managed to view a failed aviation attempt whilst in the buff.

Don’t be scared…

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I’m sitting in a house that’s only lit by candlelight, with a scary sound effect track playing. There’s a red lightbulb lit over our door, pumpkin and ghost lights in the windows, and a big scary streamer thing covering our front door. There are two big jack-o-lanterns, four headstones, and skull-bedecked cemetery fencing in our front garden. I’m wearing a wizard hat, and iDJ has on a creepy-as-hell clown mask.

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We are ready for trick or treaters!

We’ve had one uncostumed, dare-you, ToT attempt that we rejected, and three real ones so far. Two of the first three were in traditional Samhain masks, really good to see that.

The cats are unimpressed, one has left the downstairs entirely, and one is more interested in the fact we cracked the window a little bit to run the speaker wire outside. Dog is fine until the doorbell rings. In Ireland, they shoot off (illegal) fireworks for Halloween. So far, the dog hasn’t even twitched an ear at the booms, a good thing. Unless that first little barstid comes back and tries to put one in our letterbox…

A friend on FB just pointed out that this is the only time we encourage kids to visit. Damn right, and it is only okay now because we are doing our best to make them scream, cry, or wet their pants.

Oh, here’s how we tortured the dog this week:

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She only had to be Spiderman for a few minutes. It didn’t fit right.

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Ooo, aren’t we tough in our spikes? As long as Mr Carrot is around to protect us, we are…

We had a good time on Saturday night. The plan was a house party, then to hit as many of the three pubs in town that we could. Of course, we only ever landed in one pub, as you do.

Here’s me and the KIBIS-ers at the house party:

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Don’t we look great? I’m the tall one, obviously. I tried to squish my boobage flat (ha) and wear gender-neutral or even masculine clothes. The idea being that as long as I kept my mouth shut, no one would know if I was a girl or boy. It’s nice being tall 🙂 And it worked! In the pub, I scared a good few folks just by walking up and staring at them with my arms crossed. I found it really messed with their heads if I opened my eyes really wide to make crazy-person whites glow out of the mask. Yay!

My Harley jacket gave me away, though, to people who know me – I do wear it quite often, and as I’m the only biker chick in the town, well, they aren’t eejits here. Best response to me trying to fool someone came from the publican himself – “How’s the weather in America this week?”

Now for the piece de resistance! iDJ in his costume, assembled mostly by me and makeup by me.

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Any guesses who he is? How about a close up, then?

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Yes, he is Dee Snyder from the 80’s metal band, Twisted Sister! I really wanted to utilise his long blonde hair, and came up with Dee. I think he looks great! Even though he’s in my leggings, shirt, jacket, handcuffs, scarf, bandannas… hell, the only clothes that aren’t mine are socks, jocks and boots. Nice when a couple can share their clothing…

Socks has a blueberry!

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I’m behind on my Baby-Socks update. Halloween got in the way!

We didn’t have our phone call until Friday, and it was short as I needed to get our Halloween costumes together. So, my update will be a bit short this week.

Socks had another ultrasound done, and got to bring home another photo. Due date is confirmed at June 14-15. Currently, the wee one is the size of a blueberry! I love the way her baby books give her fruit similes.

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She was shopping for a ‘pregnancy journal’ but they weren’t very good, nothing like what she wanted. So, she bought a new Moleskine and started her own. She works on it when watching TV, until she falls asleep… she did say she’s not as tired as she was, but still much sleepier than pre-Booberry. Nausea isn’t too bad, but she gets grossed out easily – even at cartoons. No cravings, really, but she not very interested in food right now. Except bacon. Mmmm, bacon! That in itself is a bit strange as she doesn’t eat bad things like bacon very often.

Her mom is finally reacting the way she was expected to all along – going bananas! Mr Socks (Bear), who is normally very shy, is telling people about their pregnancy all the time now. He’s even having conversations with male friends about “birthing plans.” I wish I could have eavesdropped on that conversation! Bear is also making sure she gets enough iron, because she can’t take those ginormous iron horse-pills right now.

So, over all – everything is fine, baby is perfect, she feels great, and her boobs have gotten 15 years younger. Yay for perky boobies! Enjoy ’em while they last 🙂

Gearing up for Halloween!

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I’m sitting here with a smile on my face. It’s such a nice feeling. This is why I love Halloween!

iDJ and I spent about an hour this eve when he got home from work sorting through clothes for his costume. It got a little stressful, as nothing was working right. His stonewash jeans were too tight, and he needed something 80’s on his legs. What to do? Ah, trust in the resources of the SpiderQueen.

I found a pair of leggings in fabulous colors, and made him try them on. Oh, perfect! His legs look fantastic. He put on the boots he wanted to wear, and I quickly sorted out a shirt and the accessories to make a perfect 80’s costume. It says a lot about me that I actually still own clothes from 1985. Says even more that I can recreate the ‘look’ we wanted so easily. So he’s sorted, except for his hair and makeup tomorrow.

Except… for his junk.

He’s wearing tight leggings. Men are not meant to wear leggings. Especially not with just a t-shirt to cover their ‘bits.’ I told him that he was in charge of figuring out what undies to wear – he’s a boxers man – how? I don’t know. Nor do I want to see the experiments.

But! He posts this on FB:

Note: he always carries a man bag for his gear – another gender stereotype shattering difference I forgot yesterday! He has a ‘murse’; I hate handbags and refuse to carry one.

iDJ: My good lady had me play dress up earlier so my costume is sorted. Now if only I can figure out where to stash my junk…
Me: Oh my god. I can not believe you said that! Right, I’m going to have to buy you something that doesn’t show off your junk so well!
iDJ: Camera, phone, wallet with no money, hip flask, bible – that junk!
Me: Oh. Right.

Of course the facebook feed has gotten worse from there. We all knew he wasn’t talking about his iPhone! Braggart. I have no idea how to keep my pictures of tomorrow from being nearly pornographic.

To get our collective brains back into happy-land, here’s Dogzilla dressed as Spider-Man:

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I spent nearly two hours working with my mask today. It doesn’t fit well, and I have to wear a wig, too. The mask has to be glued into place, and I’ll need to blend makeup to cover the bare skin. I’m not a fan of masks, but this one is in two parts with the chin separate so my mouth will work as loudly as normal. The functional mouth was very important because I refuse to drink Guinness out of a straw. So, there was trimming, and fitting, and more trimming… and I found out that my liquid latex has gone hard and mostly unusable, so the edges of the mask will be really obvious, dammit. Also, I have clown white but no black, and I need to blend in grey makeup to match the mask. Bummer. A shopping trip that includes me is scheduled for tomorrow, but I can’t get proper professional quality makeup locally.

I’ve not even sorted my clothing yet. Uuuurgh. But really, I love Halloween!

A final note, if you’ll permit. I’m a terrible self-promoter, I couldn’t sell heaters to Eskimos. However, in keeping with the Halloween theme, I’d like to give you directions to the MP3 podcast of iDJ’s Halloween radio show. It is 2 hours, recorded live last night, and really, really, good. You’ll get my references to Glen Campbell yesterday better, too. Go here: http://bit.ly/vJS8fD and, if you want the playlist first or after listening, go here: http://bit.ly/ts8gXY

You’ll hear himself talking every half hour or so, getting progressively drunker and happier as he goes. That’s normal for his show 🙂

Halloween costumes and gender stereotypes, with random BS

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Hi, and welcome back to another instalment of the continuing saga, “….

Nope, I got nothing. My blogging friend Michael could come up with something, I’m sure.

I’m a bit at loose ends tonight, as my BFF Socks has family over and isn’t available for our usual phone call. I know she’s having a great time, though, and not even I can begrudge her that. We’ve planned a conversation tomorrow, but it must needs be cut short due to my needing to assemble Halloween costumes.

My costume is mostly make up – well, actually, glue-on, good quality prostheses I bought in the US last year- and those terrifying New Rock boots I mention in my ‘about’ page. But iDJ – well. I am gonna have soooo much fun with him. I refuse to give it away, but we came up with a costume that utilises his beautiful, arse-length blonde hair. It also involves make up, but more like lipstick and eyeshadow rather than greys and blacks.

Despite us being married for over 6 years, he still gets called gay because of the hair. The hair I love. The hair that suits him. When they see him in costume (called ‘fancy dress’ here) on Saturday, they will say it even more. The thing is: only a man secure in his gender preference is comfortable enough to dress so oddly (and no, he’s not going to be in drag). So, you small town, insecure, gender-preference-repressed name callers – eat it and weep. He’ll be awesome, and he gets to come home with me.

I will post pictures. I know I’ll be unrecognisable, and he will likely be, too. I say that, because I’m still debating on keeping the blog anonymous. I think I have four out of 11 followers who don’t know me in ‘real life.’ However, I’ve not said the horrible things I thought I might say when I first started the blog. I was in such a dark place, I figured it would be non-stop bitching about everything. Instead, it turns out this thing helps me see the humor in my life, and makes me appreciate the little things more.

I also think I appreciate the bigger small things more, like my KIBIS nights. We did have one this week, not at my house but at MrsMMC’s apartment. We voted to include another member, but we didn’t say who was going to invite her… oops. Is that my job? I’m not going to detail the evening, but some things we talked about are things I want to ramble on about here, and I’ll give a KIBIS-mention when I get a round tuit.

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Yes, I know that is an old, bad joke. It makes me think of my dad, though. He had one of these, and he loves an old, bad joke as much as I do. Hell, my whole family loves stupid jokes. Would you like two that came from my great-grandmother, on my mother’s side? No? Tough. Please note, these jokes have to be over 150 years old, passed down over the generations.

What are the three dirty parts of the stove? Lifter leg and poker.

What are the three naughty vegetables in the garden? Lettuce turnip and pea.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Right, what next? If I hadn’t segued into bad jokes and KIBIS, I might have said some things about the seeming gender confusion in my household. That is completely the wrong term, of course. Stereotype shattering is a better term.

An example from right now! He is live on the air, playing his Internet radio show. Tonight is Halloween themed. He was playing a song that is new to me, and I like it a lot (a rarity, I’m picky). Afterward, he (was) is playing Glen Campbell, Ghost on a Canvas. He told me that he’s snuffling back tears because Glen has Alzheimer’s, and his memory only comes back for his songs, not his family or friends. So, Glen is now a ghost himself. Aw. (iDJ also said the two songs before the one I like made him weepy.)

Me? I’m considering deleting the part of my post yesterday where I admitted to feeling anything.

Okay, back to fun examples of why we are so good, and so odd, together.

He loves to shop for clothes. He knows labels, what is hot, what is classic, what isn’t worth the trouble and why. He always has, and spent hundreds on a single jacket or pair of jeans back in the day of the Irish Punt.

I don’t know, nor do I care, about labels or what is in fashion or cool, except to avoid what is trendy. I buy based on three things:
Is it an acceptable price for what it is?
Is it ‘classic’? Meaning, it better not be a trend and I’ll look like a twat next year because I’m not doing this shopping shit again any time soon if I can help it.
Does it look good on me?
Sometimes there is a no. four: is it so totally awesomely tacky that I cannot live without it?

iDJ is a shoe freak. Sneakers, trainers, whatever you want to call them. His passion is to re-buy all the trainers he had as a kid; sadly thwarted due to me not having any income. The good part about this is that he shops well. TK Maxx, aka TJ Maxx, is the best for inexpensive cool shoes. Even better is that after he checks the selection in his size he looks at my size, and has gotten me some really cool rare kicks. Oh lordy, he’s rubbing off on me.

Enough about clothing, it’s boring.

Next is, of course, that his hair is loooooooong. He’s not a metalhead, and doesn’t want to be taken for one. Hipster is more his style. Yes, he even wears cardigans. But, he has no piercings or tattoos and doesn’t want any. I have 3 tats, want another, and my ears are punctured 4 times left, once right. All my tats are on my left, too, it’s a thing with me. No, I don’t know why.

Last one, then I’m done, honey, I promise.

He drives a MINI Cooper. I drive a Harley-Davidson Sportster.

Because this has gone on long enough and I have to end on a high note, don’t I? A thing i am very happy indeed about: He isn’t threatened, is indeed relieved, to let me do most of the mechanical repairs and assembly around the house. I love putting together flat-pack!

Rainbow Toes, fake flowers and the Fabulous Cow Coat

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Off we go, I’m just going to start ‘typing’ and see where it goes. I can’t really think of it as typing as it is only two fingers touching a flat screen. I can touch-type, this feels like a backward step. Hmm. Perhaps if I turn the Pad sideways, I can use the rest of my fingers? Let’s experiment.

Okay, the reading area is smaller, but the ‘keyboard’ is bigger, of course. I have fingernails for the moment, so my beloved comma is hard to hit, and I keep touching return with my pinkie.

Actually, the fingernails remind me of a topic I’ve been wanting to bring up. See, I only have them because they didnt break below the quick like they usually do, causing massive pain and occasional blood. They are like wet tissue paper, usually. I have no idea why they are almost acting like the the useful tools they should be. You know; teeth picking, ear cleaning, finding the annoying little plastic tab end on a new pack of smokes. Not useful for: opening pop top cans, or just about anything else. Especially: looking ‘pretty.’

I tried fake nails a few times. When they broke free (causing massive pain and occasional blood) the entire top layer of my nail went too, and I was left with nails the consistency of a McDonalds hamburger bun. Never again.

I don’t paint my fingernails. Usually they are too short to bother, and my hands are too used to keep polish on for more than a few hours without ugly chips. I also am a perfectionist, and Lefty always looks shitty. Also, I cannot ‘do nothing’ long enough for polish to dry, so it has smears, dents, and fingerprints within minutes. Also? I really don’t give a fuck what they look like, as long as they aren’t really dirty or have snags that cut my gums or ear canals.

I do paint my toenails, but only in the warm months when I wear my seriously tacky fake-flower flip flops. My feet are fabulous and I like to share the symmetry that is mine. I paint them in what I privately think of as my gay pride* colors; big toe purple, next blue, next green, next yellow, pinkie red. Rainbow Toes! Paired with a giant blue, pink or purple fabric flower on my ‘flop, I get a lot of stares. The only way it would be better is if the flowers were hard plastic instead of floppy fake silk.

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*I’m not gay, but I also don’t give a shit if you want to assume I am just because I have Rainbow Toes. Maybe I can make someone think for a change. I doubt it. Urg, this pic makes my toes look stumpy. They aren’t.

I feel that I should explain why I love the tacky flowered flippers so much. It is because as a kid, I hated the ones my mother had. She had no taste in clothes or fashion and proudly called herself the ‘polyester queen.’ She loved bright colors and loud cheap clothes. I hated her lack of taste the most when I was a teen, but I have come to appreciate just how liberating and fun wearing something stupid is. Whenever I dressed for myself, rather than a wedding or for work, I always did dress a bit out of the mainstream (discounting the disastrous experiment with being preppy at 12) but always in a genre of sorts – heavy metal, punkish, sexy-strange. That girl would never, ever, have a pink flower on her foot. Now, they make me smile, they make me feel happy and goofy and fun in a way that tons of makeup and short skirts never could. It is also an homage to the butterfly that was my mother.

Oh, The Fabulous Cow Coat. I am famous in three countries for wearing my mother’s enormous black & white fake fur coat. She called it her cow coat, but lots of people call it a Cruella DeVille coat. It is massive and tacky, and I love it so very, very much.

I had a lot further to cover on the topic of fashion, appearance, and social norms. However, dinner is nearly ready and I got a lot of joy out of telling these few stories instead of a ‘serious’ post.

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Stupid shit that makes me smile

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I was just looking through one of two clothing ‘junk drawers’ for Halloween costume accessories. I’m really excited about what I’m making iDJ go as this year, and I had to sort through the drawer full of scarves, bandannas, flowery hair clips, shawls, old undies I might fit into again, and weird and/or winter socks. I found some suitable gear for him, but I also found these:

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Aren’t they just the stupidest things you’ve ever seen? How can you be in a bad mood with ridiculous stuffed lions or alligators on your feet? How great is it that the lions have bellybuttons?They are warm, too. I’ll have to protect them from Lokii the fabric-eater, but I think they need to come out of the drawer and smile smarmily up at me this winter.

Aaa! I forgot an important part! My superduper hubby got me these; he does all the shopping. You gotta love a man that knows his wife is a goofball and proud of it. X

Why is my dog purple?

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I took the Queen for walkies today, go me! The weather was good (not pissing rain or looking like it was about to, not windy) and I was up, washed, motivated, and looking out the window at 3pm. The timing is important, because the local school lets out at 3:30 or thereabouts and I detest walking Herself through hordes of tweens. She doesn’t like them, they hog the pavement (sidewalk), and sometimes they try to pet her, which really freaks her the fuck out. I’m not thrilled to deal with them either, though I do like it when one says ‘that dog is savage!’ when we pass, because ‘savage’ means ‘awesomely cool’ and not ‘vicious throat-ripping beast.’

We had a good little walk, with no excitement. She did get to go into the post office with me, a rarity. I won’t take her inside if there’s a queue (unless it is people we know). She’s a big dog, I don’t want to scare anyone, and our post office is usually chock-full of old ladies. The Queen loves old ladies. When she loves you and wants to say hi, she does this funny front-legs bounce which can be intimidating. She’s under control, but just looks a bit excitable.

Today she got to put her feet up in the service window and say hi to the clerk; that was good.

We also went in the Paper Shop, to see if my mother in law was working. She wasn’t, but I had a little chat with one of her co-workers on issues of little importance. I do like my town.

We also had a short visit with Chris. Chris is… not all there. I believe the story is that he lives in a home for the handicapped, but by his own admittance. He always wears a suit, no tie. He perches his bony butt on the windowsills of various businesses up and down the main street and chain-smokes. Some days are bad days for him; when you say hello he doesn’t answer and his upper lip is caught on a snaggled lower tooth, making him look a bit deranged. Other days, like today, are good ones, and he’ll actually talk a moment and ask about the dog. He never remembers that he always asks the same things.

On the way home, Dogzilla likes to walk on the church wall as it gives her a nice perspective to survey every.last.moving.thing. I lean and wait while she checks out the ‘hood. Today, I noticed a purple spot on her lovely white fur. And another, smaller one, near it:

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I know the pic sucks. It’s just for funsies.

It took me a moment to puzzle out why my dog had purple spots. Then I remembered: she was on the couch with iDJ last night after dinner. He was drinking wine. Red wine. He spilled wine on the dog!

I think he could officially have a drinking problem… at the very least, getting it into his mouth!