Oh Oh

I just made a startling discovery!
I can get on my blog again. IMAGINE!!!!!
This could be serious trouble.

Never an Idle Mind!

What was she thinking?

When she bought all these clothes?
A. Well shit…I can’t go naked in the fall now can I?....ah NO!
B. I might as well get all I can carry in one trip…cuz I’m NOT going shopping again til next week….I mean January…ya that’s it…January….ah NO!
C. You know darn well they only get in one or maybe two of your size… do I really want to take the chance they’ll be here in ..in January?....ah NO!
D.What in the name of GAWD am I going to do with these things when I get them home…the closet is already on the verge of imploding! Too many enablers..too little space!…..BINGO!

What was she thinking?

When she agreed to turn this into this into this ?
A. Phhh…PIECE O' CAKE!...ah…NO!
B. So maybe I can’t cook…I clean up …real good!....ah…NO!
C. It really isn’t so bad…how long can it take?.....ah…NO!
D. OMG!…you want me to do what? Do I look like Cinderfuckinrella?.....BINGO!

What was she thinking?

When she turned down the offer to ‘Pat the Puppy?
A. Jeese….wonder what kind of dog that is? …..ah NO!
B. Ah, what a friendly man, too bad there aren’t more like him in the world!......ah….NO!
C. Wow…I have seen puppies fit into purses…but hey…how cool he fits right in your pants!....ah….NO!
D. One step closer you ASS and I am going to behead your puppy…and hey..if he is that damned fascinating…put him in the circus…creep!....BINGO!

What was she thinking?

When she decided she needed an elliptical …thingie and a bike.
A. Oh hell ya….I’m gonna be TOTALLY fit all ‘round…total body workout….Ah NO!
B. Everyone in the whole entire house is gonna be clamoring to get into shape…ah NO!
C. Oh look…they’ll match the furniture perfectly!....ah NO
D. K…the bike…I get…but WTF is that other thing…can you get brain damage falling from that height?.....ah BINGO!

What was she thinking?

When she bought these sneakers…oops s’cuse me runners?
A. Hmm…these are definitely THE MOST beautiful shoes EVER made…..ah…NO!
B. Wow…they are soooo cheap….why not?....ah…NO!
C. Yes…yes…they will make me very visible on my bike…in a good way right?...ah…NO
D. Okay okay…put the damn shoes in a bag…If you say they are exactly what I need…you win…just don’t tell anyone there worth almost 200 bucks…they will think I am INSANE!.....BINGO!

What was she thinking?

When she agreed to allow this animal into the house?
A. Oh…it’s just a little kitten…how can it be any BOTHER? ….ah….NO!
B. He won’t be my responsibility at all…The Boy will take total care of it fully!…..ah NO!
C. The more the merrier…lets get another dog too while we’re at it! ….ah NO!
D. Goddammit…I am INSANE!....BINGO!

Alive…but insane….and missing my blog like crazy.

WhileTheQueen's Away....The Princesses Will Play!

Once upon a time, sitting all regal and all on Her Very Royal Throne, the Queen decided the time had come to blow the Royal Pop Stand and take the King on a trip to a far far away kingdom. She had just overseen the finest Pot Luck Supper in the land, which might I add, had gone off without a single hitch, despite her royal reservations that something scandalous might occur since all four of her Right Royal Princesses would be together… and there was alcohol involved! She did bemoan the fact that Cindy was such a slouch in the drinking department, and Snow, perhaps slightly too advanced, but overall, she was quite pleased with how well the Princesses had behaved.
The Queen decided then and there that it was time to truly test the stuff her girls were made of. She and the King would leave the Magic Kingdom, with the King Mom and King Dad for a fairy tale adventure, and the four Right Royal Princesses would be left to oversee the biggest event of all in the Magic Kingdom….The Annual Raising of the Tent.
After consultation with the Regal Captain, she felt quite certain he could maintain order in the Kingdom and oversee the comings and goings of the Right Royal Princesses.
A very tall order for any Captain…even a Regal one!
And with that…off she went aboard the Royal Jet.
Well….you do know what they say….right?
When the Queens away….The Princesses will play!
Oh sure, they worked hard. With the excellent assistance of the many dedicated Royal Staff….Ladies in Waiting (what the hell are they waiting for??....just seemed a perfect time to ask…since it is a question that has burned in my head for…like forever), Royal Footmen, the Royal Rogue cough cough Mr. C cough cough, even the Kingdom’s Guvner , all under the guidance of The Regal Captain, things went resplendedly.
Princesses Ariel, Snow and Spice loaded machine after machine into the backs of many a carriage while Princess Cindy manned the big top with the Regal Captain (ya’d almost think the Regal Captain thought her the most mischievous and in need of a most watchful eye now wouldn’t ya….ha!). The Queen would be proud of the hard working Princesses to be sure.
They were even nice to the Ugly Step Sisters. The Right Royal Princesses deserved a royal medal for that one!
Or maybe….just maybe…a night away from the Magic Kingdom?
Ah yes….that would do it.
After all….all work and no play makes for seriously crabby Princesses!
Princess Ariel could no longer dare to look at her badly chipped nails while she sat and twiddled her thumbs, Princess Snow needed some down time with her Seven Dorfs, Princess Spice, it could be said…just needed glasses, but a night away from Royal Duties might suffice in the meantime…and they all could sense that if Princess Cindy did not get a shopping fix soon…she was gonna blow!
A Royal Plan was hatched!
The Regal Captain sensed something was up in the Castle.
Being a man of keen sensibility, he also knew he would be powerless to stop it. He could only hope the Princesses would return to the Kingdom, without any hint of Royal Scandal in the air.
Very wishful thinking indeed!
The Princesses secretly piled into the Royal Carriage and off they went for a night of Royal Merriment.

And all would have gone well too…if not for the damned Paparazzi, who doggedly pursued the Royal Carriage hither and yon, snapping pictures of the Right Royal Princesses….in some very…very…. Unroyal Establishments.

Whatever would the Queen say?
The Right Royal Princesses could only hope she would not wave her Royal Scepter and banish them all to their Royal Rooms….and they so hoped she would consider how hard they had worked at the Raising of the Tent and that perhaps alittle Royal misbehavin’ could be over looked….just this once….okay…AGAIN!
Princesses will be Princesses tho…and fun must be had…at any cost….they just hoped not to be too deep in Royal Shit when the Queen returned.
So after their night of…well… not so Royal-like Merriment, (during which...might I add, nothing illegal nor royally immoral occured...for the most part), they decided if they returned to the Magic Kingdom and perhaps spiffed up the Castle real good, any rumors the Queen might hear upon her return to the Magic Kingdom would soon be forgotten when she saw the spiffy new digs.
They set the plan in motion, bribing the Regal Captain into helping them, by returning to the Castle with a special new TSR (Twin Stress Relieving) System for him. Altho the Princesses exasperated him at times, they knew he was always on their side….the Boobs in a Box…were just an added bonus…just to let him know they were thinking of his Royal Merriment too! They were…after all, thoughtful Right Royal Princesses.

And low and behold...after another week of surely-a-real-Princess-has-never-had-to-move-her-ass-like-this-work, the Castle was sorted and counted and polished and replenished in a way it had never been before…and the Right Royal Princesses rested…although just briefly…over another pint of Royal Ale.....and then another one....and another one...and...well maybe one

or two more...but who's counting....right?

And...as with any fairy tale, you can bet that the Right Royal Princesses will live happily ever after...or at least til the Queen finds out they drank all her beer!

Problem Solved!

So…only three more sleeps til the BIG POT LUCK EVENT…and I thought next week was hell week! Dear Gawd I had not counted on the outside pressure put upon me about this thing. Here I thought I could just quietly drive myself insane…privately…but oh no…everyone’s jumpin’ on the band wagon. Not that driving me insane is much of a trip, some might argue I have already arrived.
Anyway, I digress…it’s all about the pot luck ain’t it.
Everyday I’ve worked this week…pre- Hell Week week….when there are a million things to be done, barcodes to be found, fabric to be measured and wrapped, signs to be made, a billion pounds of something to me moved somewhere…everybody seems oddly focused on what I am bringing to Pot Luck.
Or is it just me?
Could I be alittle over sensitive about the subject?
I am sure there is no way they could know about that sick feeling I get in my stomach every time they ask what I’m bringing.

I am trying to believe this is just pot luck culture…you know…so and so wanting to know if your dish blends with their dish…and whether there will be a nice mixture on the table….but then again because they are mostly all aware of my….let’s say…short comings…in the kitchen…I feel like they are….taunting me…or lookin’ for a heads up as to which dish to NOT eat that night.
And then Miss J asked point blank(the very SAME Miss J who stole…..right out from under me…Alfie’s brilliant ice cream cake idea…so she wouldn’t have to cook…cough cough.. bitch!.. cough ) …she’s makin a list…time to commit to something.
Commit to something?
What?
Suicide?

I am wracking my brain for an answer while listening to everyone else rhyme off the fancy things they are bringing…half of which, I must admit, I don’t even know if they are real food.
All I could think of is black and crispy
Something black and crispy.
Is that committed enough?
Is someone else bringing that?
Can we move on now?
Can everyone STOP asking me if I know about M&M’s? (And just for the record here…I most certainly do know about M&M’s…and like I said….I DON’T CARE FOR THE PEANUT ONES!) How does that help me cook? If I eat enough…does it make me cook better…or just too sick to attend…which, I guess would indeed solve my little problem and theirs too!

I am a princess…a perfect princess…I should be worrying about which gown to wear to the ball….not this cooking shit.
Ya want to know the truth. I’ve decided.
I am not cooking anything.
I’m bringing in a chef…two actually…from a far away kingdom…cuz I AM a Princess…and Princesses have People. I am bringing in the cooking People.
And they will make whatever I ask (beg) them too…and it won’t be black and crispy. And I won’t have to hurt myself trying to make the stove turn on, nor take a chance on the shaky…yet to be proven skills of a local chef who’s come forward (and frankly…just may suck as bad as me), or be worried my dish will stand out for all the wrong reasons.
I got this one beat!

PROBLEM SOLVED!!!
Now if I could just find someone to shine up my glass slippers…

I’d be laughin’

Wanted: One Chef...Some Cooking Knowledge Required.

We are but 12 days away from Hell Week.
And what is Hell Week you ask?
Why it is the annual Tent Sale at JHS. That’s all.
And I guess I should really qualify Hell.
Hot, Energy-zapping, Labourious, Long...there you have it….HELL!
It’s an event that is long anticipated by our clients, they come out in droves, and we are very pleased to have them. It is also an event that requires a shit load of preparation on our parts, which I have to say we are getting better and better at each year, but no matter the organization...it takes tremendous physical labor to have it put together and running smoothly.
And did I mention...set up always occurs on the hottest day of the year?
Yep it does.
We’re a soaking-wet, sticky, dusty dirty pile of smelly SOB’s by the end of that day.
And way too tired to care.

Then the fun begins. We work our asses off non stop for the next 6 days trying to meet the needs of a thousand people, all at the same time, while smiling broadly and wishing silently that God would turn down the heat...just alittle, so you would no longer feel the need to puke or pass out. It’s all good!
But you know what’s really got me shakin’ in my boots about this coming Tent Sale?
The Staff Pot Luck Dinner.
You read right...I did say the Staff POT LUCK Dinner.
That means I have to cook something.
I have 11 days to figure out what I can possibly cook that won’t kill or maim anyone...or burn my house to the ground in the process.
Dear. Gawd. I. Can’t. Do. It.
This has already been keeping me awake at night. I read the cook books...lay there and envision myself going thru the recipe... step by friggin’ step, carefully checking the dictionary for all the word I don’t understand...like boil and sauté ... and just when I start to get hopeful that YES...THIS ONE I CAN DO….
I see the same Firemen in the same Haz-Mat suits breakin’ down the front door.
And I can’t even tell where it all went wrong. Til it’s too late.
I don’t get invited to many pot lucks.
I don’t take it personally. I wouldn’t invite me either.
And I do get it when I am invited...and then they eagerly suggest I be the one who brings the bottled water.
I get it...and it’s okay.
I don’t want to cheat and buy something ( and I know yer all prayin I do). I always feel like the other guest will think I am too lazy to put in the work they did on their wonderful contributions….that they whipped up...JUST LIKE THAT!
Just like friggin’ that!
Right.
I thought you could whip up Pasta Salad….just like that. No one bothered to tell me you had to cook the damn pasta before you put it in the salad. Who the hell knows things like that!
Not me!

There’s gonna be people there who don’t know me...like bigwigs and stuff, who’ve traveled a fair distance for a fine meal…and they won’t know not to eat what Nad brought. Can I hope that someone will spread the word to them before I make a lasting impression of the very worst kind?
Is saying sorry really enough?
What if I like held their hair out of the way while they puked...is that enough?
What?
Is it still cheating if you like...hire someone to do your cooking? Like say you found a (really nice looking) really competent chef who agreed to come to yer house and like do the little cooking part and you your very own self, personally put it on the serving thingie and wrapped it...can you legally say you made it yourself? Could that work?
I know I couldn’t let him make it taste too good...cuz that would be a dead give away...and honestly, I have no grandiose dreams of ever being a serious contender in the Pot Luck world ...I just want to ‘show up’ as it were….and get thru one entire evening without having to hear “What the hell is That!” fifteen times.
That’s all.
I definitely need to find a solution to this before the stress of it all kills me.
And time is running out...only 11 days.
11 little days.
I need a miracle.
And a chef.
And a pot...I guess?

There's Gotta Be A Help Line?

Hi, my name is Nad
And I’m a Cotton Ginny-aholic.
I need an intervention.
There….I said it.
I have no where left to hang them. I can’t shut the dresser drawers, and there are no hangers left...in the whole entire house.
And still I buy more.
Did I really need to have 15 new pairs of ankle socks?
Ah…. yes! I must….and really...if you could see the pretty colours ...you would agree a girls’ gotta have those!
So...they don’t really count….right?
Same with the bras. I needed one...somehow 5 of them ...just got in my bag???? Those ARE necessities tho….with my large breasts, can’t have those puppies swingin’ around and hurtin’ someone!

And besides...they weren’t from Cotton Ginny.
So...goes without sayin’...those don’t count. Right?
And shoes...they fall into that ‘don’t count’ area too. Gotta have shoes...most malls won’t even let you in if you’re not wearin’ shoes for Gawd sakes.
And I only bought one pair...really! Okay okay...so I bought slightly more than one pair...just s-l-i-g-h-t-l-y more... sheeesh!
And I only went to Cotton Ginny this weekend again cuz I had to exchange a pair of pants my Enabler bought me. I would never EVER have thought to go there on my own ...even if that skirt I left behind last week ...haunted me ...I was workin’ it out of my system...til the little pants exchange HAD to happen.
So it isn’t my fault I went there, and exchanged the pants, and bought two more skirts and three more shirts. Shhh Shhh Shhh!!!
I know I didn’t need them.
I couldn’t help myself. I’m addicted remember.
A Cotton Ginny whore.
And the fact that I brought them home and hid them amongst the already too many clothes I have bought for summer...proves it.
And we’re not gonna talk about the bike clothes or blue jeans
I need to stop.
No I don’t need at least two shirts for every pair of pants or vice versa.
No I don’t need to buy the same skirt in every colour it came in.
No I don’t need to buy one of every style of capris they have in the store.
And no...I do not need more then the 17 blazer type jackets I already have crammed in there! No. No. No!
If you are a friend...or a loved one…..it’s time for some tough love!
If I ask you to take me to the mall...say no!
If I ask you to pick something up for me...say no!
If I complain I have nothing to wear… hit me...hard!
If I tell you I am going to the mall ...but I will not go in Cotton Ginny….I’m lyin’
If I tell you I am just going to pick up a birthday gift for so and so...again...lyin’
If I suggest it as a must see attraction and offer myself up as tour guide...call the nearest addiction center and have me committed.
And frankly, the stress of having to find a spot for all I have bought is beginning to wear me down. I am thinking I need to refocus and find better things to spend all that money on…
Like booze and illicit drugs.

Hells' Awaitin'

What will send you to hell faster?
A. Wearing a thong to a church.
B. Saying ‘shit’ in church.

M…I think you better get packed potty mouth!
I guess, logically, you could debate both sided of this issue, and be very committed to your stance on which might be more damning, but consider these facts before deciding.
No one knew about the thong.
Everyone heard you say shit.
‘nuff said?
Perhaps to play it safe, we should both stay completely away from Holy ground. At least till we’ve read the Ten Commandments on church etiquette…there must be a book on that right? You would think?
And for those of you who think M and I went there to be ‘saved’
You do know better than that …don’t you?
There is little hope for us, we know that.
We are still on what seems like a never-ending quest to find a home for our guild. Our homeless guild. Our very talented, yet homeless guild.
And lately, it’s been taking us to churches.
Maybe God is sending us a message?
He sure is teaching us how to handle rejection well. Altho, one might argue…it is not Him rejecting us…it’s His people.
We got people too.
One wears a thong…and the other says ‘shit’ in church.
I still think the fire’s gonna be alittle hotter under your ass M.
It’s much cooler in a thong.