Wednesday, March 30, 2016

The Cathie Club

The Scari One and I had lunch today with the Cathies. Fave SIL, Kathi, and blast from the past friend, Cathy. In the interest of speeding things up, I'll call them K & C respectively. The reason for this should be self explanatory. If for some reason, you're a member of the Moronsky family, it's because SIL Kathi starts her name with a "K", and blast from the past Cathy starts her name with a "C". To all non-members of the Moronsky family, I apologize for the need to explain this in such detail.

The Cathies were at the restaurant when we got there. Both of them sitting with their backs against the far wall. Probably so we couldn't sneak up on them. Not that I had any kind of plan to sneak up on them, but it would be nice to have that option if the opportunity presented itself. 'Course at our age, it's probably not a good idea to sneak up on each other. You know, weak tickers and all? I'd feel really bad having to go home and tell The Husband that I scared his baby sister to death...literally.

So The Cathies both belong to a  writing group. Both are relatively new to the group and joined to be able to network because they've both written books. The other poor schmoes in this group have no idea what they're up against now that The Cathies have united. The poor writers group should expect a take over in short order...they'll never know what hit 'em.

Here's the links to both of their books:

K's book is about a dog she & her husband, Alan, (aka Gadget Man) adopted. When they got him I actually mentioned Gadget Man telling the tale here. Weekend Dining-The Play

This is the link for K's book...

Odd Otis: An Unusual Tail (Tale)

C's book is a science fiction/young adult novel. Here's her link...


A portion of the proceeds from K's book go to some special needs animal group...I haven't verified this personally...she could be scamming the unsuspecting public and keeping all the dough for herself...just kidding...she'd be legally obligated to give half to Gadget Man. I'm sure she'll be horrified that I would say that...which is basically why I said it. Just to bug her. Truth is, she's a big animal lover and is very involved in spreading the word about needy animals.

The proceeds from  C's book go to her...because she's old and needs the dough. Although I'm guessing if it became a best seller she would donate generously to some kind of charity for the less fortunate. I could be wrong...she could be a selfish bitch and keep it all for herself...but I don't think so. I would, but then I know I'm a selfish bitch...oh,wow...a glimmer of self's The Stoopidist Thing.

Tuesday, March 29, 2016

I Guess I'm Just A Sexist...Who Knew???

The other day I was driving to a neighboring town with The Scari One, of Old Chix fame. We had major stuff to buy at Costco. I always have major stuff to buy at Costco. Usually dry roasted Macadamia nuts and apple strudel pastries. Oh, and roasted chicken. Costco really does have the best deal on roasted chicken. I'm sure there're people who would poo-poo this idea. They'd say that THEY stuff THEIR chicken cavity with citrus, onions, and herbs, then rub the outside with clarified butter infused with roasted garlic. And you MUST roast the bird upside down for 10 minutes at inferno temperatures, then, at the exact second, because timing is critical, turn the oven down to its final magical temperature and the bird over to its final position leaving it to finish cooking for the precise amount of time...or some such fucking nonsense. You can't buy a chicken, cook it yourself, and have it turn out as good as Costco does...and that's the simple truth.

But that doesn't make me a sexist...

We were driving along fat, dumb, and happy when we passed three Honda convertibles driving in a row...out for a Sunday drive. First of all, I didn't even know Honda made sporty little convertibles, did you? Secondly, they were all driven by "older" men. I don't know how "old", but they all had gray hair blowing in the breeze of their 30 mph mach-less road trip. They were cool dudes out for a drive in their "sports" cars. I'm sure they all had buttons open on their shirts revealing the mandatory gold chains adorning their old gray chest hair. It's pretty much an "old guy" stereotype...but they're usually driving a Porsche or Corvette, or some other equally expensive "trying to recapture my youth" ride.I didn't know there was a "cool car club" for Honda convertible drivers...(I don't really get the whole "car club" or otherwise. Guess I'm just not the "club" type.)

I don't think this when I see an "older" woman driving a sporty car...convertible or otherwise. I do wonder how they keep their hair from getting all fucked up when they're driving a convertible though. Add a little wind to my hair and I instantly become "Rat Woman". It's actually pretty impressive that they get where they're going and remain unscathed by the breeze.

It never occurred to me that stereotyping only the old guys was sexist...but it is. So let's remedy that right now. Maybe old women don't try to recapture their youth by driving "cool" cars, but they, okay, it in other ways...such as...

They shop at Forever 21...when they're a good 30-40 lbs over the largest size available thinking nobody will notice the lumps and bulges popping out of the compression undergarments they've squeezed into from top to bottom.

They wear things from their teenage daughter's closet. Just because it fits doesn't mean it looks good.

They wear low cut tops emphasizing what was once a beautiful bust line has now become a sea of crepey cleavage...complete with age related discoloration. Hint here...old wrinkled boobage is best kept under cover.

They wear too short shorts...nobody wants to look at cellulite ridden thighs and spider/varicose veins. It's why God made Capri's.

They wear sleeveless tops when their upper arms have turned to flab...there's no such thing as flabulicious. If there is, it's on some creepy pervert website catering to fat fetish folks.

They wear tight fitting exercise garb to be stylish...completely unaware that FUPA and cankles have become less stylish since the days of Michelangelo.

I feel much better now that I've relieved myself of the burden of being a sexist bitch and can now be equally insulting to both sexes. We all just need to quit tryin' to be something that we're not.

I'm off now on my way to Costco with The Scari One. Just as soon as I find a pair of fashionable yoga pants that cover my cankle length Spanx and smear some Crepe Erase all over my exposed's The Stoopidist Thing.

P.S. In case you don't know what FUPA is, it's fat upper pussy area...I didn't know what it was either.

Monday, March 21, 2016

Holy Shitsky!

While The Husband and I were driving home tonight after a feast of Chicken Fried Steak (The Husband) and Liver & Onions (Me) I thought of something while I was daydreaming. Daydreaming is usually what I do when I'm driving and there's no conversation to keep my mind from wandering. I have no idea why I thought of this...maybe because we just ate and my mind was still thinking of food, but I started thinking about eating meat. I love meat. I'd give up almost any other food for meat... except ice cream. I'd have a really hard time never having ice cream again, but then again, I'd have a really hard time never having a Ribeye. Hopefully I'll never have to choose because the stress of that decision might kill me...okay, it probably wouldn't kill me but it would break my heart.

Then I started thinking about Kosher meat, Halal meat, and just good ol' meat in general. Now I'm not a discriminator between "clean & unclean" meats.  I pretty much eat them all if I like the taste. But tonight for some reason I started thinking about what makes a meat "clean". You know, the whole "chewing of the cud and split hoof" thing? There's way more stuff involved, but since I'm neither Jewish or Muslim, I don't eat according to their dietary guidelines.

But...I got all hung up on the whole "cud chewing" thing and for the first time in my life it occurred to me that that means barfing up stuff and re-chewing it. All my life I've been eating animals who eat their own barf...whose physiology demands they eat their own's how they survive.

Barf is really disgusting. I think it's totally gross when one of the dogs eats cat know the semi chewed and not even entirely digested little snake of dry cat food barf? That same little snake of barf that my precious Lilli Mowbeane is famous for leaving in the most unexpected places to be discovered by a bare foot. I think she secretly does it on purpose so she an sit back and laugh at the expression on my face and the horrible words coming out of my mouth when this happens. Anyone who has had cats for any length of time knows whereof I speak. It's an extremely unpleasant thing to encounter on a quick trip to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Have you ever heard anyone say, when they think about or do something really gross "it makes me wanna throw up a little bit in my mouth"? If you stop and think about it, can anyone really throw up "only a little bit"? I know I can't. Once that upchuck starts, there's nothing stopping it. I'm usually just grateful if it doesn't come out my nose too. (Sorry, I know that's probably something most people could live without knowing...but it's totally true.)

Really the only time you can even really swallow barf is if it's like burp juice. I guess that would be kinda the same thing...only not intentional and not in mass quantities. And you always make a really sour face...the bile smile. I think I just coined a new phrase.

Here's something I never in a million years thought I would ever say...although I'll probably only say it in my head. People would think I'm even weirder than they already do if I said it out loud.

"I love eating animals who eat their own barf."

Pretty unappetizing when you think about isn't it? But WTF am I supposed to do about it now? Once you think something like that, you can't just un-think it. Unless you're Scarlett Fucking O'Hara and "think about it tomorrow." I mean, when you're on the downhill side of life are you really going to change? What am I going to do, become a vegan?

Now, I don't mean to question the Almighty here, but maybe something got lost in the translation from Supreme Being to Lowly it does when you're a kid playing "Telephone".  'Cause it kinda seems wrong that the critters who eat their own barf are considered "clean" and the ones who aren't barf eaters are the "unclean" ones...It's the Stoopidist Thing.