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Mostly wordless Wednesday…

6 Nov

Yes, I’m dating again…

Guys, on a first date, you probably shouldn't tell her that you once shoved a fork in someone's eye...

Guys, on a first date, you probably shouldn’t tell her that you once shoved a fork in someone’s eye…

I’m seriously addicted…

20 Aug

So I love shoes. I’m a girl. I also love eyeliner and shiny lip gloss. Call me crazy, but I like being a girl.

The disadvantage of course, with my love affair with shoes, is that I tend to buy too many of them.

After purchasing a new pair of Cole Haan wedges last night, the door to my bedroom slammed shut. Not from a ghost or my best friend in anger, but because I had a cross-breeze a blowing through the condo.

So I did what any sane, normal, well-adjusted girl would do.

I took my best friend’s make up bag and propped it against the door. Then I sneered at it every time I saw it. Which is a lot because my place is teeny tiny.

I sneered because I’m an “everything in its place in my place” kind of girl. I even have a basket next to the front door where all my flip flops live. I don’t like shit just lying around. Purses on the coat rack, pens/paper in the basket, coasters in their holder.

You might call it anal-retentive, but I choose to call it “personal tidiness”. T-Bomb calls it OCD. I will admit that I do count to 10 when I see something out of place before put it back.

So anyhoohaw, the door slams and scares the bejeesus out of me. Made me jump and almost made me spill my cocktail. And that’s no bueno.

I decided to go online to the Amazon gods to see what they have in the form of a door stopper.

This is what I found.

I seriously love shoes…

Like most of my shoes, I fell in love and bought it immediately.

My name is Lisa and I have an addiction.

One giant fart…

9 Apr

So I get a text message from Suz yesterday morning at 6am. She lives in Oklahoma and possibly forgot that the left coast wasn’t up yet. Or maybe she just wanted to be my alarm clock. After all, she knew I was at the cabin with T-bomb so maybe she just wanted to find out how hungover we were. Apparently she read my previous post and figured we were fucked up when we wrote it. She was right 😦

In any event, after wishing me a Happy Easter, she tells me her house smells like one giant fart.  I had to think about that for a while. At first, I thought she was complaining about her teenage son. Then I thought maybe she ate too much broccoli. Then I realized she was hard-boiling eggs. Or so I hoped.

Does it sound wrong that I miss coloring Easter eggs and eating jelly beans or that I wish I had a cute spring dress and white Mary Jane’s? Even though I have no kids…?

Should I be mocking myself now or will you do this for me?

Pffft. *Giggle*

Thought for the day: Never hold your farts in. They travel up your spine, into your brain, and there is where all the shitty ideas come from… You’re welcome.

Dancing with the devil

30 May

I lead a perty darned good life. One filled with interesting and funny people who tell me the most outrageous things. I suspect they do this because the more scandalous the story, the more I laugh, clap, and sparkle. Gawd I love my friends!

Villa Tranquilla

So this post is about the weekend we had recently in Sonoma. It was HER birthday and she invited a group of friends and family for some drunken debauchery.

And of course, good wine, good food, good times, and general insanity.

In advance, HER told me that I would really like her dad, but to watch out. She said “Oh, yeah, he’s gonna just love you.” She said this part part looking me straight in the eye and laughing. I cocked my head, cuz after all, she knows me. I mean KNOWS ME. Knows what a huge flirt I am and how I tend to instigate crazy antics.

Anyhoohaw, we meet up at Flowers along the Sonoma Coast and while it was like only 10:30 in the morning, drinking wine just felt natural for HER and I. Since we tend to spend a lot of weekends together, we tell ourselves it’s totally okay to start drinking whenever we want because it’s always 5:00p somewhere.

Wine tasting? NO, they gave us four WHOLE BOTTLES to drink. Yay!

So after the first day of tasting drinking a barrel full of wine on an empty stomach, HER dad arrives at Villa Tranquilla. He’s 69 years old (he says with a wink and a leer), fit, flirty, and quick to laugh. Oh hell to the yeah! He and I bonded faster than two fingers and some super glue.

He’s drinking whiskey in a wine glass (oh the humor!) – and I’m drunkety drunk apparently feeling very comfortable with him. It was mutual. V.E.R.Y. And while us womenfolk were off in the living room dancing, the menfolk were in the kitchen (making us food *thanks*) – well, all except for HER dad. He’s hanging out with us ladies in the living room.

I was in charge of the playlist so I decided some Rihanna was needed. At one point, HER dad and I were dirty-ish dancing. For the rest of the weekend he continually reminded me that I am responsible for pulling his “inner thigh muscle too hard“. I of course reminded him that he should’ve stretched more before dancing with the devil. He loved this!

So the next day, after drinking my dirty mary’s for a little hair of the dog recovery, and then hitting our first winery, we all headed to lunch. I sat near HER dad. Who regaled me with so many stories that I laughed so loud it was somewhat reminiscent of Sally showing Harry in the diner how a fake orgasm is properly done. Fist slamming the table and screaming Yes! Yes!

Pronounced: DOM-IN-NOT-TRICKS

You see, he announced to me that they have a dominatrix (pronounced DOM-IN-NOT-TRICKS) in the family.

Me: Get out!  *open handed slapping the table*

HER Dad: Oh, it’s true. And she’s quite hot.

Me: Wha?  *slamming the table screaming YES!*

HER: People, this is lunch.  *rolling her eyes*

Me: I love you!!

HER dad: She’s a professional.

Me: As in “I get paid to help you work out your submissive issues?”

HER dad: Yes, and she’s married to my nephew.

Me: So let me get this shit straight *clapping with glee*, she ties her “clients” up and helps them work through their bid-ness and then goes home. Where possibly her husband casually inquires “How was your day, dear?”

HER dad: Yes, exactly. It’s quite fascinating.

Me: Does she use whips and chains and other props, like a riding crop or dog collar? *completely fascinated*

HER dad: Yeah, I think she does.

HER: GUYS!!!

Me: *sorta shamefaced, and now grinning slyly at HER dad with a gesture indicating ‘we’ll continue this convo later’*

By the way, Harissa French Fries are the bomb. Seriously good. And if you don’t already know this about me, I am a huge foodie.

Overall, the weekend antics and whatnot was epic and just the right amount of naughty! HER dad flirted like a pro with me, to which he openly admitted and frankly, I so totally dug! And there was lots of drinking, dancing, laughing, and storytelling. HER family is crazazy insane in a very good way – and I’m certain we will do this again. And by this, I mean everything you think I mean.

For now, in vino veritas. There is truth in wine. Where it’s from, how it grows, it’s environmental influences, how it’s made, smells, tastes, and makes you feel. Like the bouquet of life, wine reminds us how precious each bottle is, and how special it is to open it to good friends.

To HER for including all of us on her special day – I love you girlfriend!

Pandora’s box

3 Feb

Lawdy lawdy lawdy. This gal is over fawty.

I’m okay with that, really. Especially since I discovered the joys of Botox.

And in other news… I find myself wanting to know the meaning behind almost everything. It’s like I’m 40-something going on 8.

I’m always asking WHY. Why is it so cold in this house? Why am I not sleeping more than six hours? Why am I drinking a whole bottle of wine?

The constant litany of mundane questions bouncing around my head like a pinball machine is driving me crazy. And feeling a bit like the drip, drip, drip of an ancient water torture.

In reality, I know the answers of course. And my guess is, for those that know me, you do too. (3000 square feet of tile flooring; stressed; cuz I haz a fabulous wine cellar!)

So what’s really going on in my fruity pebbled brain? Besides the constant drone of little worker bees buzzing me with silly questions, I suspect I’m just starting to question… wait for it… wait for it… almost there… yep. LIFE.

Another four letter word we LIVE, LOVE and HATE at regular intervals. As a 40-something chick, I am questioning everything from my purpose at work to my choice in novelas.

In fact, one day I was so bored curious about something, I went to the online Confucius.

As I typed WHY  several interesting options appeared. And with my ADHD distracting me, I no longer cared about what I originally wanted to ask. Instead…

Google's answer to Bing?

“Why is a raven like a writing desk?”  I wish I had clicked that…

“Why are nerds unpopular?” Huh, what’d I miss?

How about “Please Rob Me”?  It shows us a listing of all empty homes out there. Sure. Why not?

Anyhoohaw, all this yap yap yapping about WHY this and WHY that got me asking another question… “Will the answer matter?”

I gave that a lot of thought. So, yeah… NO – I don’t think it will matter one bit if I get the answer to “Why is Snooki such a nasty ho?”

Take it from Pandora, some boxes just shouldn’t be opened.

Drinks with a dildo-model

21 Jan

And by model, I’m referring to the guy whose big willy was the model for the #2 best-selling dildo in Canada. On Sex In The City (the series) that is.

But in real life, I had drinks with this guy. The actor who played the dick model.

I probably could get a graphic from toywithme.com who is absolutely hilarious – but I is afraid!!! So this post will be cartoon and graphic free of that image!

Anyhoohaw, you could say he tried to pick me up. There was overt eye winks and body postures. It reminded me of girl’s night out last summer… Fond memories, but nonetheless, at a certain age one shouldn’t…dot dot dot…

But we did… so, over dirty martini’s I got to hear all about his new project, blah blah blah – bitch bitch bitch – yawn, yawn, yawn… and there were jokes a-plenty about his perfect “girth” (which I suspect is merely a reference from the show.)

Mostly, I was sorta – hmmm, bored.

On the one hand, he wasn’t particularly funny. Nor was he tall – he barely reached my chin. Which for some gals, might be the perfect height HINT HINT, but well, it made me feel older. Which is wrong, I think… I’m not older than him, I think…

On the other hand, he didn’t fondle his iPhone/Droid/Blackberry so that was a plus.

I secretly think anyone who covets and diddles thy PDA more than they covet and diddle thy lovah is just useless. Cuz guys, if we gals want you, pay attention. Our PDAs have a vibrate mode, hear what I’m saying?? And guys, your iPhone might have an app for this and that, but I promise you, it doesn’t have an app for THAT.

So, while I got to have drinks with this actor who played a dildo-model, I was mildly amused but I wasn’t overly impressed.

Reminds me of this other time I met an incredible hulk… I’ll be your green with envy on that one too! Let me know if you wanna know who that was! Me likey!

The most wonderful time of the year

21 Dec

It’s the hap-happiest season of all… Except for the crank-crankiest people in the mall.

It all started when I went to the mall looking for something fun for me. After spending 20 minutes finding a parking space that took me 20 minutes to walk to the mall, I arrived at the gilded gate to the glorified glitz of the super-sized shopping center.

The constant ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding of the dude trying to get people to drop a nickle into his bucket was very upsetting this year. Not just because I am pretty sure I lost part of my hearing in a freak water-skiing adventure that turned into vertigo that turned into me cupping my ear to hear what’s being said, but because I emptied my wallet to make room for all these stupid coupons I’ll never use so I didn’t have any coins or greenbacks to MAKE.HIM.STOP.THE.FREAKING.DING.DING.NOISE.NOW.

So with ringing in my ear (notice it wasn’t plural), I go to Bebe to see if there was anything a chick my age could wear without fear that some 20-something would {gulp} mock me for wearing. Um. That sooo didn’t work in my favor.

But I did see this Asian woman and her daughter start tugging at a slinky black dress. Since I don’t understand a thing they are saying I am forced to interpret tone and body language.

And I must say – it was quite the spectacle.

Angry Mom with eyes slanted downward (more downward than normal) grabs dress and yells something that has Teenager From Hell yank dress back and repeat Angry Mom’s epitaph (or so it sounded to me.) Spittle flies freely and I suspect lands on said garment.

Back and forth. Ending with a rip, a drop of the dress, and both ladies fled the scene.

Sales folks were conspicuously absent from the mayhem. I think they blended into the size 00 clothes rack that hardly anyone ever touches.

For me, I didn’t see anything more exciting than the Angry Asian Dress Tug-o-War so I left.

I went next to Banana Republic. Don’t you just love the name. I always expect monkeys to fly out the door. Or throw shit.

Which for me, was a dream about to come true. Imagine my delight.

Priggish man is buying I have no idea what for some female in his life. Starts complaining loudly, very loudly about I have no idea what. Sales staff congregate at this register and try to placate Papa but he’s perhaps empowered by the sudden attention and starts making everyone feel like shit, which I can see because he threw something over the counter. Maybe a pen. Or the tape dispenser.

When the dust settles, and Mr. Prig leaves, the girls almost physically shook the shit off their selves and most definitely shook the shit out of their heads so they could get back to job at hand. To sell stuff.

My conclusion: Sales folks at the mall have a shitty job. Granted, they have a job, but it comes with a high price indeed.

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