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manifestos

A Month Of Thanks

manifestos November 1, 2015

In honor of the month of November, aka, the kick off to eating season, I find myself in a place of deep, deep snark. I mean, epic snark, and struggling to find the grace to behave like a functioning, polite adult in most conversations.

SOOOOOO….

I decided to jump on the “thanks” bandwagon and try to find something each day that I am more or less thankful for. If you have seen my attempts at this before, I’ve mentioned my thanks for grapes, because when they rot, they turn into wine, and I’ve also been thankful for cows, because they turn into delicious, heavenly steak.

So, without further ado, I offer for review, my daily thanks, complete with a lame Precious Moments graphic.

thankspm

1. I give thanks for George, my new rescue dog. 50lbs of 11 month old half basset/half lab male pup. He is curious (like the monkey), sassy (like George Jefferson) and clumsy (like George of the Jungle.) He keeps me on my toes, and aware of anything I have laying around. You know, like a wooden spoon, or a $90 bra.

2. I give thanks for the fact that I can bend over and give myself a pedicure. With the personal economy being much like Greeces, I find myself eschewing the lavish expenditures at an Asian nail salon, instead trying to make my Fred Flintstone feet look less pre-historic, and more girl-like. I am thankful that I have a reason to get a job: to be able to get another pedicure, and I’m really thankful that it’s practically boot season, so that no one can see the HIDEOUS job I did today painting. It looks like a toddler, cracked out on Halloween candy did the job.

3. I’m thankful for the fact that I had over 200 kids last night come through trick or treating. I didn’t want/need any left over candy. Especially the Reeses pumpkins. Ya, I need to keep chanting that one. My ass thanks the kids, even if my brain is semi bitter.

Stay tuned for tomorrows installment of November Thanks.

 

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In the immortal words of Steve Miller Band…

manifestos September 23, 2015

I’m a smoker, a joker, a midnight toker…

Ok, so, maybe just a joker today.

I bring you this manifesto today to discuss how very much cancer sucks monkey balls. Actually, scratch that, more than monkey balls. Elephant balls.

See, I’m particularly annoyed with the “cancer” again, because it’s shown up at the doorstep of my friend Amy. Amy kicked off the craptastical journey of chemo to kick “the effing cancer” yesterday and I want her to know that I love her and support her and all of the warm fuzzy thoughts. So, my promise to her was that I was going to write MORE during her journey to keep her spirits lifted with my shallow thoughts and snark. It’s not much, but I can do THIS. The point of this story is to say that cancer sucks, chemo blows and Amy my friend, we are with you each step of the way!

cancer

So, this brings us to todays diatribe. Folks, at 5:47am, you can officially say that I jumped the shark. Nay, sold my soul to the devil and have officially become my mother. Yes, you read that right, I BECAME MY MOTHER this morning.

See, today is the fucking fabulous first day of fall. (Lovely fall alliteration there, huh?). I celebrate fall because I hail from a land of the BEST FALL IN THE ENTIRE WORLD, and I currently live in a state that often times FORGETS TO HAVE FALL. Despite the tempestuous relationship that I have with fall, every year, I hug, nay, squeal at the arrival of the first day of fall and decorate my house oh-so-slightly in Autumn style.

mefallBullshit. I’m going to call bullshit on myself this morning. Oh-so-slightly? How about I put up a FREAKING “AUTUMN” TREE, dispersed 25 ceramic/glass pumpkins and owls throughout the house and wait for it… wait for it… the reason I have officially become my mother. At 5:47am, I was taking down my perfectly lovely white waffle-cloth shower curtain in the primary bathroom and replaced it with ones that bear the subtle tones of fall. THEN, I swapped out my bath mat and rug. THEN, I swapped out a basket for a more rustic Longaberger basket for the counter. Not to keep anything fecking simple, I then hung two pictures. AT 5:47am CST.

With hammer in mid-swing, I realized that I have gone to the dark side, and there is clearly no going back. All of these years, I’ve been fighting this very thing, and with a simple swing of a pink hammer, I realize that I have failed in my quest for individuality and well, NOT TURNING INTO MY MOTHER.

There you have it. My admission of the day. My failure as an individual.

What next? Am I going to start sitting on the porch and critiquing my neighbors? Oh hell….

Have a good day everyone, and Amy, I love ya!

 

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