Sunday, January 30, 2011

My Inheritance

Jasper. That's my inheritance. Not the mineral, mind you. Jasper was my mother's dog. A Shitzu/Lhaso mix. A new breed of "Designer Dogs" in the works. You could call them Shitzsos, or Tzulhas...or...LhaShitz...ahhh, I think we have a winner in the "Designer Dog Name" category! LhaShitz! ( shits) Back to Jasper...

He's a little dog.

Who was a house dog.

Who needs to go to the groomer.


I fail miserably as the owner of a little dog who needs brushing, bathing, and clipping on a regular basis. My dogs have always been on the medium to large side. Outside dogs who come in the house at night and get on their beds and go back outside to their dog houses when we go to bed (unless it's willy willy code outside...then they stay in...and steal cat food...and sometimes sneak treats from the litter box...why do they do that???). I took their ease of care for granted.

Not anymore.

Now I have Jasper.

When my mom was alive, Jasper was never allowed to be with the "outside" dogs because she was afraid they'd hurt him, that he'd get in with the horses and get kicked (we have radio collars to keep them out of the horse pens), or that he'd run away and not be able to find his way back ( collars to prevent this). I was fighting a losing battle with my mom about the dog. So when mom died, Jasper became mine. My brother got the car...I got Jasper. My son got the house...I got Jasper. I'm actually not annoyed that they have the car & house. I just wish one of them had taken Jasper. (The brother should have taken him...he has a nice manicured fenced yard.)

The first thing I did with my inheritance was to clip hard could it be??? Off with the long flowing hair that was a magnet for every sticker and burr on the property. I even bought new clippers (not the old horse clippers) for the job. He was very good while I was clipping, he actually tries very hard to be a good dog. And he loves attention. No matter how good he was, I was the inept imbecile holding the clippers. I'm sure my mom was rolling over in her grave by the time I was done. Poor little Jasper looked like the poster child for unwanted animals. Who'd a thunk it would be so hard to shave a dogs coat evenly all over???? Poor dog looked up at me with his crooked little under bite and I didn't know whether to laugh of cry. (I laughed...I can't help it...I always laugh when I do stoopid things) Words cannot describe what I did to this dog. I should have taken a picture.

Off to the groomer.

Who was able to even out Jasper's coat enough so that he didn't look quite so pitiful when she was done and who charged me extra to punish me. (She still tries to punish me regularly for bringing him in with mats in his coat, containing weeds and stickers...I'm a slow learner) After she got over her initial shock at seeing him she showed me her business brochure that had a photo on the front cover of her holding Jasper. Jasper impeccibly coiffed with long flowing hair and a little topknot on his head. The waif looking up at me with his crooked under bite now bears no resemblance to the creature on the brochure.

But he's older now...yeah, yeah, that's it...I used to look better when I was younger too. Unfortunately the older I get, the stoopider I get.

I didn't think it was sposta work like's the stoopidist thing.

Friday, January 28, 2011

Old Chix

Champagne brunch with the old chix was truly fab. Guess what? All four of us got the "Senior Discount"! First time in my life I've ever gotten a senior discount. Holy shit! When did I get that old??? My friends and I are all "Seniors" now. Who'd a thunk it? But...the senior discount got us free champagne! Two, count 'em, two glasses each! So I'm thinkin' this might not be such a bad gig after all. Pay to eat...drink for free. I like it.

The buffet tables at the brunch had tons of food, and not only breakfast fare. There was Chinese food, Mexican food, salads (which of course I shied away from), desserts, and assorted breads and rolls.

What I ate:

Eggs with cheese
Home Fries (not good)
Chicken Enchilada Casserole
Fried Chicken
Mashed Potatoes & Gravy
Chocolate Pie

What I drank:

Diet Pepsi
Champagne (two free glasses)

And I wonder why I'm fat.

Don't ya love how I wash all that fattening food down with "diet" soda??? Why do fat people always do that? Okay, not always, lots of times they'll wash it down with a giant Big Gulp. Personally, I've never been into the Big Gulp. I have to have a can of Diet Pepsi in a cold cup (old term for coozie). I can nurse one all day long. Grosses most people out. Since I don't drink coffee (I've never actually had coffee) I start each morning with a can of Diet Pepsi. Lasts me most of the day.

Brunch was great though, we spent over three hours laughing and making fun of each other and everyone else we know.

We talked about bras, "Old Wimmen" bras...nothing sexy about our bras let me tell you. My current fave is the Sassybax with underwire. One of the other OC's just got the AAHH Bra (I don't if that's the right name but I'm too lazy to Google it to check). She loves it and it's way cheaper than the Sassybax.

One OC has started going to the gym. I'm personally horrified by this. Just the thought of going out to any type of public exercise venue and letting the world see how truly out of shape I am makes me break out in a cold sweat. I guess I could try taking a Xanex and going but then I'd probably fall off the treadmill thus drawing even more attention to my lack of physical fitness. But now I feel pressured (okay only slightly) to address my complete lack of fitness. My back hurts, my shoulders hurt, my knees and hips hurt. Do I really want to add arms and legs to that list? Because that's what will happen. In addition to all the other aches and pains, I'll just have new ones in my arms and legs.

I should probably think about this seriously though.

And I will.

Right after I finish off the Pioneer Woman Oatmeal Crispies I made last's the stoopidist thing.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Old Chix

I have three friends that I get together with sort of regularly for dinner, lunch, lounging around by the pool, whatever. We all used to work in the same office twenty years ago but still try to see each other as often as we can. All get togethers always involve eating mass quantities of food that's bad for you and consuming adult beverages (none of us actually drinks very much...really)...and laughing. We laugh about everything, and make terrible fun of each other and everyone else we know. (We also have the "Don't Tell Rule" which if invoked, means you can never utter a word to anyone else about what you just heard...I think we actually honor this)

All of us are around the same age and we've all gotten old, fat, wrinkled and gray together. Two of us have kids and two don't. We all have step kids...I personally have three, one girl from the first marriage who I lovingly refer to as the "good" stepdaughter, and another girl, who I jokingly (no really, I'm joking) refer to as the "Bad Seed", and boy from the second marriage.

This morning we're getting together for "brunch" at a local casino where I'm hoping Mimosa's will be the offered alcoholic beverage. I'm hoping there will be bacon too.

I love bacon

and fried potatoes,

hash browns, home fries, any kind of fried will do.

I hope they'll have those too.

I figure I'll go, have a couple of drinks, eat way, way, way too much, (so that I have to unbutton the top of my pants) play a few slots, then rush home to put on my sweat pants, flop on the couch and take a much deserved nap.

I love naps too.

I think last time the Old Chix were in a casino was at Lake Tahoe. One OC brought Champagne and as soon as we checked into our room (3:00 pm), we drank that. We only had one night and thought we should start early celebrating our twenty-four hours of freedom from the daily routine. We were also celebrating that nobody had to be a designated driver. It was almost like "hurry up and drink as much as we can because we may not get the chance again". Hooray, we don't have to worry about driving! After polishing off the booze in the room in short order, we made our way downstairs to...drum roll... a sports bar. We had a couple more drinks there and before too long it was time for dinner in the fancy restaurant. (My fourth grade teacher taught me to sound the word out rest-a-u-rant which I do to this day.)

By this time we're a bunch of pretty well liquored up old matronly women (is there anything worse???) and we easily, (really, it was soooo easy) made fools of ourselves in a fancy restaurant by having even more adult beverages and laughing way, way too loud. We were the hated group of obnoxious diners that night. You know, the ones that other diners look at, then look back at their fellow diners and either roll their eyes or shake their heads in mild disgust. I'm sure the other diners were just jealous we were having such an outrageously good time while they were being all prim and proper and mannerly. We thought we were hilarious no matter what all those stuffy other diners, who paid hard earned cash to have a nice relaxing dinner, thought. Sometimes it's a good thing (thank you Martha) that consuming too much alcohol impairs the memory. Thank the Lord I didn't know anyone else in the restaurant that night. The four of us were our only witnesses to our drunken ramblings. (I actually laughed so much that night that the next day the muscles in my cheeks and stomach were sore.)

After annoying fellow diners for about two hours, we finally left the restaurant and headed down to the casino. It gets a little hazy here, I'm thinkin' from the many adult beverages so far consumed, but I think we wandered around for a little while and played a few slots so we could get a free drink. Why? Because it was free...and because we needed to be a little more liquored up... and because our buzz was starting to fade.

Finally sad to say, we had to call it a night. Our brief return to the wild partying of our youth and freedom from the mundane had reached the end of the line. The Old Chix were done.

When we got to our rooms it was 10:00 pm.

Ten O'fucking clock. We didn't even last until midnight. What was wrong with us????? Seven friggin' hours???? That's all we're good for???

How's the stoopidist thing.

P.S. The next day we remembered why we gave up the drinking of our youth. We all felt like hammered shit. (I don't know where that expression came from...obviously no one would actually hammer shit, would they?)

Sunday, January 9, 2011


I saw Dennis Miller on TV the other day and he had a little white droplet of spit on his lip. I've decided to call them spitletts. Spitletts come in all shapes and sizes from the miniscule droplet to the long dangling shiny string of drool. I'm sure Dennis didn't know about the spitlett on his lip or he surely would have wiped his mouth. He was on TV after all.

Spitletts are yet one more thing I constantly worry about (along with eye boogers, nose boogers, and food being stuck between my teeth). I am slightly paranoid, I admit, and constantly wipe the corners of my mouth with my fingertips for fear of looking in the mirror and seeing spitlett crusties stuck there and wondering how many people I've talked to who saw them and were too polite to tell me.

One of the girls in my office (anyone under 40 is a "girl") I call the Princess is even more paranoid than I am. I can look at her and wipe the corners of my mouth and she automatically wipes the corners of her mouth. It's become kind of a game. I'm pretty sure she doesn't know but even if she did, I don't think she could help it...because you never know when there really might be something there.

I think I would want someone to tell me if I had spitlett crusties in the corner of my mouth, but for the life of me, I cannot think of a polite way to tell someone they have crud stuck in the corner of their mouth. How do you tell someone that??? I mean it's not like you can reach up and wipe it yourself....yuck. I remember my mother licking tissue and then wiping my mouth with it...or my whole was long, long ago and I really don't see this as a viable option when confronting another person about spitlett crusties. Although I would pay someone to do it just to see the reaction of the spitlett crusties person to a stranger who tried to wipe their mouth with a saliva dampened tissue. (Yes, this is the kind of weird shit I think of.)

It's kind of like gleeking. For those not in the know, this is when you accidentally shoot a droplet of spit from your mouth while talking. I didn't know there was actually a name for this until the Princess told me...even though I manage to do it on a regular basis. I never know if I should acknowledge it when someone gleeks. Usually, I can't help it...I start laughing. And if someone else sees it with me and the offending gleeker doesn't acknowledge, then I end up with the Church Giggles and can't look at the other gleek seer without going into hysterics. I'm so mature. When I gleek, I invariably show my smoothness by screeching "OMG, I just spit on you...did you see that???". I think I am quite possibly the most un-smooth person on the planet...the stoopidist thing.

P.S. If you ever see me with spitlett crusties in the corner of my mouth, please tell me.