Dear.....Shopping Idiots

I've linked up with Dazee for her Dear_____. You can write to anyone or anything and let us all know what you think. In honor of the recent holiday season, I've decided to focus on shopping for my Dear ____ letters.


Dear Hobby Lobby,
I adore you! Also, you suck for being so fabulous that I can blow 12 hours and a week's salary with you. I have drawers full of crafty shit that I AM going to use...someday. Gotta go now, because I have to make another wreath and cross stitch a picture of Jesus. But first, I have to finish my paint-by-number of an Italian villa and complete a scrapbook of my favorite episodes of Breaking Bad. I'd really like to try out the new embossing kit I bought, as soon as I find something around here that needs to be embossed. And I would really like to finish the 47 stockings for the whole freaking family by next Christmas. Oh shit...I'm out of sequins, so I'm going to put on my hand-crafted flip flops and my Bedazzled jeans and head back over to see you, Hobby Lobby. I'm just glad you aren't open 24 hours a day, or my child might starve to death because I spent all my grocery money at your store. At least she would look good in her rhinestoned jacket and hand-beaded necklace, right?


Signed,
One Crafty Biotch


Dear Creepy Man in Target,
I have a few questions for you. First of all, do you own any shirts from this decade, or are all of them circa 1983? Secondly, do you own any shirts in YOUR size (XXL, according to that gut hanging out from under your shirt), or are all of them circa size medium? Also, why the hell are you hanging out in the toy section? Doesn't that violate your restraining order?


Signed,
Watchdog Momma


P.S. I know it was you who farted over there by the board games.


Dear Wal-Mart,
Your annual profits are about $13 billion. I am all for capitalism, and think that's just dandy. However, would it kill you to take a teeny portion of those profits and hire 2 or 3 extra cashiers during the holiday season? And maybe - but this is just my opinion - 1 person to clean the bathrooms? Otherwise, I'm going back to Target and shop with that fat farting pervert.


Signed,
Holding My Nose

Go visit Dazee, and play along.  You know there's something you want to say in a Dear ____ letter!

Jose Cuervo Helps Me Make Cookies

Let's learn to make cookies with our friend, Jose Cuervo.


1 cup of lemon juice
1 tsp baking soda
1 cup of sugar
1 tsp salt
1 cup of brown sugar
1/2 tablespoon cinnamon
4 large eggs
1 cup nuts
2 cups of dried fruit
1 bottle Jose Cuervo Tequila


Pour one level cup of Cuervo and drink to check for quality. Quality control is very important in this recipe!


Take out a large bowl and the electric mixer. Take another shot of tequila to make sure it's still ok. Beat one cup of butter in a big fluffy bowl.


Add one peastoon of sugar. Beat again. At this point it's best to taste the Cuervo one more time...you know, for that whole quality control dealy.


Turn off the mixerer thingy and lick the beaters. It's best to turn off the mixering machine BEFORE you lick the beasters.


Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.


Pick the frigging fruit off the floor. Rinse it with tequila.


Mix on the turner.


If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaters just pry it loose with a drewscriver.


Sample the Cuervo to check for tonsisticity.


Next, sift two cups of salt, or something. Who geeves a sheet. Check the Jose Cuervo. Is it still ok? Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.


Add one table.


Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. If you don't have any sugar, then add some other sweet shit, whatever you can find. Pour in half a bottle of cinnamonomon.


Add some baking power and then have a shot of Cuervo with your cat.


Mop up the cat vomit with a broom or sumfin like that.


Greash the oven.


Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over.


Don't forget to beat off the turner.


Finally, finish the Cose Juervo and make sure to put the stove in the wishdasher.


Cherry Mistamas!

This is the post where you can call me a dumbass.

Back in early October, I wrote about my fabulous ass-busting, ankle-twisting episode right before I was leaving for Las Vegas on a business/pleasure trip. If you are a new reader, here is the link to that gem. I can’t believe that some of you may not have experienced my entire body of work in order to fully appreciate my depravity. Get to work, people! READ!


Anyway, this was over 10 weeks ago, and since then my ankle has continued to swell and I’ve been limping around like Horace Pinker from the movie Shocker.

You totally need to watch this movie!

Notice from this movie poster that Horace Pinker was executed on October 2nd. This is the same date that I hurt my ankle. Coincidence? Hmmmmm….


Anyhoo, I never had my ankle x-rayed, but when I went to my OB/GYN last week (don’t freak out men, I’m not going to give any details) he was concerned about my ankle swelling and made me an appointment with a podiatrist, Dr. W.


My husband had an accident about 4 years ago and shattered his heel, so he was referred to this same podiatrist. Now, I’m not one to just go around gawking at men (probably because most of them aren’t worth my gawk), but this doc is HOTT! And you know I’m serious when I add an extra “T” on the end of the word.


I showed up at my appointment and the nurse took me to get x-rays and then showed me to an exam room. By the way, I love going to a doctor’s visit where they don’t weigh you. It’s like when you put money in a vending machine and it spits out an extra bag of M&Ms. BOO-YAH!


So Dr. Hottie came in the room and asked me this very important question:


“Ummmm, why are you naked?”


What? I wasn’t sure what all he needed to check out. You know what I’m sayin’? {Wink,wink}


So he starts pulling and pushing and poking around. On my FOOT - okay, people? He kept asking stuff like:
“And it’s been HOW long since the injury?”
“So you’ve just been walking around on it every day?”
“Have you ever seen a naked podiatrist?”


Ok, he didn’t really ask that last question. I was just making sure you were still with me here.


Then Dr. McHandsome looks at the x-ray, and guess what he saw?


My goddamn fibula is broken! By the way, this is the point where you get to call me a moron/idiot/dumbass for waiting so long to take care of this. Go ahead…I can take it!


So now I’m in a walking boot thingy for 5 weeks, at which point I go back to see Dr. Fabulous. He was also pretty concerned about the ligaments on the outside of my ankle, but he wants to get the bone healed and then we will think about an MRI if it’s necessary.


Between now and then, I think I will buy a sassy piece of lingerie to wear to my next visit. Because, APPARENTLY, it’s frowned upon to be totally naked in the podiatry office. Who knew?

Things That Get On My Damn Nerves - facebook Edition

Do [fill in the blank] To Support This Cause

I am all for supporting great causes, but some of the crap that takes place on facebook in the name of these causes is just ridiculous. The most recent example: “Change your profile pic to a cartoon from your childhood. The goal? To not see a human face on FB till Monday, December 6th. Join the fight against child abuse and copy & paste to your status to invite your friends to do the same.”


Exactly how the hell is this supposed to work? Maybe an abusive parent sees Scooby Doo on facebook and says, “Well, shit! I don’t think I’ll beat my kid today!”


Or perhaps Papa Smurf will induce warm and fuzzy feelings in the abuser, and he will take his kid out for ice cream instead of making the poor child live in the closet (like my pool boy, Ruben, and that greasy naked guy from my last post. Go ahead and look ladies - and some of you gentlemen - I‘ll wait).


What if the abuser sees a pic of Wile E. Coyote and starts ordering all kinds of gadgets from Acme to use on his poor child? Yeah, you didn’t think about that, did you? We’ll just see how you feel when the news comes on and reports that some child had a giant anvil dropped on his head or was blown up after eating Fruit Loops mixed with gunpowder. WAY TO GO, FACEBOOK USERS!!!


So, after thinking about how totally ridiculous and futile this campaign was, I promptly changed my profile pic to Foghorn Leghorn. Not to prevent child abuse, but because the FogLeg totally ROCKS! “Ah say, ah say, boy! Don’t beat yore kiddo!”

If You Don’t Re-Post [this long ass diatribe] Then You Hate Jesus

Have you ever noticed that facebook has a lot of people with way too much time on their hands? (Hello, Black Kettle…I’m the Pot!) And they LOVE to issue challenges. Like this one:


One facebooker has challenged all believers to put this on their wall.....In the Bible it says, "If you deny me in front of your peers, I will deny you in front of my Father, at The Gates of Heaven." This is a simple test. If you love God and you are not afraid to show it, repost this.


Well, damn! If I don’t post this, then apparently I’m going to Hell. It says so right there on facebook! What about the fates of all those people who died before facebook was invented? Oh, crap! Everyone who has died before last week went to Hell!


After all, isn’t there something in the Bible that says, “No one comes to the Father except through your facebook status?”


Maybe in Leviticus???


Don’t get me wrong. I love Jesus and the troops and the children and the cancer survivors and the Chilean miners and the Haitians (except for that one topless chick with the droopy boobs - don't they have Victoria's Secret in Haiti?), but can we get over the condemning shit? Just donate some money or screw a soldier (or a Haitian). I’m sure they would appreciate that more.


Well, gotta go change my facebook status to where I keep my purse: “I like it under the coffee table.”


And then could someone please get over here with a crane and some sort of pulley system to get my naked ass out from under the coffee table after my husband misinterprets that whole little post?  You might wanna bring some Vaseline or Crisco, as well.

{Sigh} And while you’re at it, bring me a hand basket so I can get packed….

Fat Girls Make Better Shoplifters

I’ve got a little story that will make you proud you are NOT from the state of Oklahoma. For those of you who are from Oklahoma….uhhhh, sorry, I guess.


This seems like a classic Wal-Mart story, but it actually took place at a TJ Maxx in Edmond, OK. Allegedly, 28-year-old Ailene Brown and 37-year-old Shmeco Thomas are facing felony shoplifting charges after being caught by the loss prevention officers at the Maxx.


It may not seem like much of a story so far. Shoplifting happens all the time, right? Well, read on, reader people.


Ailene and Shmeco were (allegedly) using their bodies to conceal the items they were (allegedly) stealing. These paunchy plunderers were (allegedly) sticking items under their breasts, belly fat, and beneath the skin hanging under their armpits.


Ok, still not impressed? Stay with me, folks! I’m about to tell you what they were shoplifting (allegedly). Here is an alleged list:


Four (4) pairs of boots
Three (3) pairs of jeans
One (1) wallet
Gloves


Perhaps I should add a pictorial display just so you can fully appreciate the magnitude of the items this dynamic duo were (allegedly) stuffing into their crevices and overhangs.


Four pairs of boots



Three pairs of jeans - probably size XXXL

Holy giant globs of fat, Batman!  I can't imagine all of this, $2600 worth of merchandise, fitting under the blubber layers of two women.  I'm (allegedly) pretty well-endowed in the chest area, so I tried to put a pair of boots under there at home.  KLUNK!  They fell right out.  I was able to successfully walk around with a bottle of nail polish under there, though.  So how much flippin' fat do these beefy bandits have be toting around to (allegedly) conceal 4 pairs of boots?  And that's not even including the jeans, wallet, and gloves!  DAMN, Gina!

Oh, when I was searching for pictures of boots, this came up:

Ahhhh, look at the...ummmm...boots.

I tried to hide him under my boobs, but he was kinda greasy and kept sliding out.  So I locked him in the closet along with my pool boy, Ruben.

The one question that is burning in my mind is, "What did the loss prevention officers do with the merchandise that they (allegedly) retrieved from the body canyons of Ailene and Shmeco?"  Did they put it back on the shelves for other unsuspecting shoppers to purchase? 

Just in case, I suggest that you don't buy any boots or jeans from TJ Maxx this season.  And I think you should probably smell any wallets or gloves before you purchase them.  If you catch a whiff of cheese, sweat, tuna, and J.Lo perfume, put them back on the rack and back slowly away.  Then go home and sniff some bleach.

So let's meet the fleshy fashionistas.  

Ailene and Shmeco - The Portly Pilferers

And what the hell kind of name is Shmeco?  Is it Yiddish?  For some reason, her name reminds me of the word "shmeckel," which means "small penis" in Yiddish.  Oy vey!  Somehow, I don't think that's what her mom was going for. 

In a related story, a teenager in Brooklyn (allegedly) jacked an $84 turkey from a deli.

First of all, HOLY SHIT!  Eighty-four dollars for a farkin' turkey?  Maybe you should eat more ham, Brooklyn!

By the way, when I was searching for pics of "turkey in my pants," this picture came up:

Well, alrighty then!

But I digress.  I tend to do that...a lot.  Anyway, back to the story.  The larcenist lad, Deon Williams, had 2 yoots as lookouts when he (allegedly) crammed a 12-pound turkey down his britches and walked outside.

A hooker on the street corner asked, "Is that a turkey in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"  Okay, that part didn't really happen, but it would have been wicked if it did.

The butcher, Sergio Marte, chased the thief out of the store.  Deon yelled, "I'll give it to you - don't touch me!"

The butcher quipped, "I don't want to touch you - just give me the turkey!"  The heister dropped the turkey and the butcher bent over to pick it up.  At this point, the little piece of shit (allegedly) hit the butcher in the jaw!  The butcher, being a tough Brooklyn boy, picked up the poultry and returned it to the deli case.

[Note to self:  If you buy a turkey in Brooklyn, beware of a distinct "crotchy" odor."]

This entire fiasco was captured on video surveillance, and young Deon was captured a couple of days later.  The judge will probably sentence him to 30 seconds of community service and warn him to steal steaks next time because they are easier to conceal in your drawers.

Moral of this way-too-long, rambling story:  GET A FUCKING JOB AND STOP (allegedly) STEALING!

This post has been read and edited by my attorney (allegedly).