A Thanksgiving Invitation

To All Our Family and Friends:

Just a note to let you know we are hoping to see you Thanksgiving Day. But….

Martha Stewart will not be dining with us this Thanksgiving. I'm telling you in advance, so don't act surprised.

Since Ms. Stewart won't be coming, I've made a few small changes:

Our sidewalk will not be lined with homemade, paper bag luminaries. After a trial run, it was decided that no matter how cleverly done, rows of flaming lunch sacks do not have the desired welcoming effect.

Once inside, our guests will note that the entry hall is not decorated with the swags of Indian corn and fall foliage I had planned to make. Instead, I've gotten the kids involved in the decorating by having them track in colorful autumn leaves from the front yard. The mud was their idea.

The dining table will not be covered with expensive linens, fancy china, or crystal goblets. If possible, we will use dishes that match and everyone will get a fork. Since this IS Thanksgiving, we will refrain from using the plastic Mickey Mouse plate and the green napkins from last CHRISTmas.

Our centerpiece will not be the tower of fresh fruit and flowers that I promised. Instead we will be displaying a hedgehog-like decoration hand-crafted from the finest construction paper. The artist assures me it is a turkey.

We will be dining fashionably late. The children will entertain you while you wait. I'm sure they will be happy to share every choice comment I have made regarding Thanksgiving, pilgrims and the turkey hotline. Please remember that most of these comments were made at 5:00 a.m. upon discovering that the turkey was still hard enough to cut diamonds.

As accompaniment to the children's recital, I will play a recording of tribal drumming. If the children should mention that I don't own a recording of tribal drumming, or that tribal drumming sounds suspiciously like a frozen turkey in a clothes dryer, ignore them. They are lying.

We toyed with the idea of ringing a dainty silver bell to announce the start of our feast. In the end, we chose to keep our traditional method. We've also decided against a formal seating arrangement. When the smoke alarm sounds, please gather around the table and sit where you like. In the spirit of harmony, we will ask the children to sit at a separate table. In a separate room. Next door.

Now, I know you have all seen pictures of one person carving a turkey in front of a crowd of appreciative onlookers. This will not be happening at our dinner. For safety reasons, the turkey will be carved in a private ceremony. I stress "private" meaning: Do not, under any circumstances, enter the kitchen to laugh at me. Do not send small, unsuspecting children to check on my progress. I have an electric knife. The turkey is unarmed. It stands to reason that I will eventually win. When I do, we will eat.

I would like to take this opportunity to remind my young diners that "passing the rolls" is not a football play. Nor is it a request to bean your sister in the head with warm tasty bread.

Oh, and one reminder for the adults: For the duration of the meal, and especially while in the presence of young diners, we will refer to the giblet gravy by its lesser-known name: Cheese Sauce. If a young diner questions you regarding the origins or type of Cheese Sauce, plead ignorance. Cheese Sauce stains.

Before I forget, there is one last change. Instead of offering a choice between 12 different scrumptious desserts, we will be serving the traditional pumpkin pie, garnished with whipped cream and small fingerprints. You will still have a choice; take it or leave it.

I hope you aren't too disappointed that Martha Stewart will not be dining with us this Thanksgiving. She probably won't come next year either.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!!

Manic Monday: Drunk Dialing and Drunk Texting

1. Only drunk dial when you are drunk. Everything else is false advertisement.

2. It is okay to call someone 27 times in one night. If you don't remember it, it didn't happen.

3. If you are going to drunk dial a family member, say something nice. Ex. "Mom I'm in McDonald's and they're playing our song. I love you."

4. Dirty talk while drunk dialing is always preferred. Who doesn't want to hear your best raspy, phone sex voice at 3 in the A.M. asking to bend them over something.

5. Voicemails are always better. This way your friend can let their friends have fun at your expense for days, even weeks to come.

6. Drunk texting is alright...if you are prepared to read what you wrote the next day when you are sober.

7. It is definitely a good idea to call all of your exes and remind them that you were the best lover they've ever had and everything they know, they learned from you. This way you can sleep well at night.

8. You can also call this same ex and let them know, that you know, that they still love you. Then explain to them that I would still love me too!

9. If you are a frequent dialer, never get mad if someone dials you. Be happy they thought of you in this special time.

10. It is always a good idea to sing on someone's answering machine or voicemail. Especially a show tune.

11. Drunk dialing should be fun and light-hearted or dirty and sex crazed... Never angry.

12. Most likely you will never drunk dial your best friends. They are usually the ones taking your phone away and reminding you that "you have a problem".

13. If you deleted a number sober, it was probably for a good reason. Do not try to retrieve this number. Nothing good can come from it.

14. Always call someone you know. Finding random numbers in phone books is bad and usually leads to angry dialing.

15. If your cell phone dies, remember everything happens for a reason. Never borrow a friend's phone to do your dialing.

16. Drunk dialing to foreign country is usually too costly to be a good idea. But if you feel like if you don't call this person you'll just die, brake rule 15 and use a friend's phone.

17. Drunk dialing may lead to drunk muffin stuffing....Be prepared.

18. When dialing remember that "hanging out" at 3 in the A.M. usually doesn't involve cards, it's probably going to be more like cheap lube and handcuffs. So be prepared when you really do want to play X-Box when you're drunk..."You want me to do what with your box? Play with it?"

19. Don't drunk dial in the pool, tub, or rainstorm. It only ends up with you blow drying your phone when you're far to drunk to be using electronics and you won't be able to drunk dial anymore that night.

20. Never, I repeat, never drunk dial your boss, preacher, grandpa, or friend's parents. If you are that hard up to call someone, there are 800 numbers on Budweiser boxes. The person on the other line always sounds cute, plus I think they are used to drunk dialers.

http://www.drunkdial.org/

There are many types of drunk dials, here are the most common:

1) The Close Friend Call: This is usually just to let the person know how WASTED you are and how much you LOVE them and to let them know that they have to work at 8 AM and its now 4 AM.

2) The Acquaintance Call: This is acceptable and should last no more than 63 seconds. This is someone that you don't talk to on a regular basis, and for good reason - but you still felt the need to call them at 2:45 in the morning to tell them they are "missin' out on this KILLER party".

3) The Booty Call: This category has the most to gain but the most to lose. It is totally within reason to call your f*ck buddy at 4 AM... but it is NOT acceptable to call them 20 times and leave 5 voicemails. News flash - cell phones have caller ID! And P.S. your ex-boyfriends/girlfriends probably don't want to here from you 'fake drunk crying' explaining how much you miss them, how big of a mistake it was to break up, or even to bitch them out - also, their new significant other probably won't appreciate it much either : )

4). The angry drunk dial. Anyone who has annoyed or pissed you off... or anyone that you just want to basically tell that they are lame and have no life, and that you really don't like them, and you try to explain that it's not that you don't like them because you are currently drunk, but that you have never really liked them.

  And let's not forget drunk texting!

 

Don't Dial App, which allows you to block the usual recipients of your drunk dials (or texts, or emails) for whatever period of time you chose. (I would imagine 2am to 4am is the most designated time.) You can even make a friend your "designated dialer" for the evening with a handy password feature. (Though hopefully your friend isn't going to prank call your boss or anything.)

While these apps are neat (there's even a phone with a built-in breathalyzer), here are a few other things that could benefit from a function that prevents you from using them while intoxicated.

FacebookYou've just come home from the bar. That last vodka soda was a bad idea, and you haven't eaten anything since lunch. Time to get on Facebook and look up old boyfriends. That always ends well. Or maybe you decide to leave a flirty message on your office crush's page. Whoops, every coworker you're friends with has now seen it. Facebook needs a "drunk app" that will pop up a bunch of warnings if you log on while hammered. "Are you sure you want to proceed? How much have you had to drink tonight? Do you really need to be looking up that guy you made out with once at a New Year's party in college? He probably has kids now."`

iTunes
I can't tell you how many times I've passed out drunk, only to wake up to find, say, the entire Toto catalog mysteriously downloaded to my iTunes. It must be elves. Elves who just have to have the live version of "Hold the Line."  

High School YearbooksSure, leafing through old high school yearbooks while blitzed might start out as a harmless trip down memory lane. But pretty soon you're reliving old gym class traumas and wondering why Katie didn't write more on your senior page. Did she really hope you'd "stay sweet"? Seems pretty insincere. Time to look her up on Facebook and write something nasty on her page.  

Twitter
Twitter needs a "drunk app," if for no other reason than to reduce the number of "I'm so drunk right now!" Tweets. Though if you prevented people from Tweeting while drunk, the site would pretty much be a ghost town.

Boxes of Old PhotosAww, look! It's a photo of you and your high school pals at an amusement park. That's nice. And there's your jerky ex whose photo you still keep for some reason. Better write him a long message on Facebook and open old wounds. And here's a picture of your mom holding you when you were a baby. And...here come the tears. 

Any album by Leonard CohenI'm not entirely sure how this app would work. Maybe your phone would fire an electrical pulse or something whenever you're within ten feet of a Cohen album while tipsy. I love Cohen as much as the next guy, but listening to "So Long Marianne" while loaded is a one-way ticket to cry-town. The app would also work for songs by Jeff Buckley, Nick Drake, and Kermit the Frog's rendition of "The Rainbow Connection." 
 
Domino's Pizza Tracker
Have you seen this thing? It's on Domino's website and gives you real-time updates as your pizza is being made. There's even an iPhone app for it.

What we need is an app that checks to see if you're sober enough to be ordering from Domino's. See below.  

"Your order has been placed. There is still time to turn back."

"Prep. Seriously, why are you paying $14 for cheesy tomato bread? Microwave a Hot Pocket and go to bed."

"Bake. There's still time to call and cancel! Do you really want to wake up next to a greasy Domino's box, the congealing cheese a reminder of the many, many mistakes you made last night?" 

"Quality check. This isn't actually happening. We just put this here for legal reasons."

"Out for delivery. It's not too late! Just don't answer the door. You're drunk, you passed out. Wait, what are you doing? Are you adding hot wings to your order?? No!!!!" 

 

 

http://textsfromlastnight.com/

http://www.mobiletopsoft.com/pocket-pc/download-dudler-drunk-dialing-assistant-1-0.html

Talk To Me Tuesday........In Another's Eyes

10 Things I'd Like to Say (Anonymously)

to 10 People Right Now

1. What possessed you?  Why did you ever get involved with that piece of trash?

2. You're beautiful, intelligent, strong, and funny...why can't you see that?

3. Why are you so angry? You have everything that's important- don't you?

4. You're a big, fat, freakin liar! Not to mention delusional!! For someone so smart you really are ate up with the dumb ass! Did you real think you could pull that off?

5. You're a very sad, pitiful lil fella and I'm so glad you are out of my life.  I just wish I had seen it earlier.

6. You are the most manipulative, cheatin, conniving woman I ever met. 

When you lost everything....You had it comin!

7. You should never screw with a woman who is smarter than you.

8. You just need to open your eyes- everyone can see what's going on but YOU!

9. I am so glad our paths crossed, but I really miss you now that you aren't in my life.

10. Dammit, I said I wasn't going to say this but: I freakin TOLD YOU SO!

9 Things About Me

1. I'm a serial monogamist.

2. Cattlemen are my weakness.

3. Closely followed by horsemen.

4. Then calf ropers.

5. I am a card carrying member of MENSA.

6. I workout at the stables 20-30 hrs/wk.

7. I have a serious shoe/purse fetish.

8. The F-Bomb rolls off my tongue when I get kicked.

9. Every hour of every day I do kegels exercises: 25 per hour, it pays.

8 Ways to Win My Heart

1. Being a real man who is secure. Extra points given for cowboys or ranchers.

2. Unprompted admiration of my "nails" or my shoes.

3. By sending flowers which ARE NOT from the freakin supermarket.

4. Understandin that I am ornery and getting that I am prideful, it's my downfall.

5. Knowin the perfect place to watch a sunset.

6. Knowin the right words and when to say them.

7. Livin an integrity filled life.

8. Givin great hand/foot massage.

7 Things that cross my mind quite often

1. Sex (it sucks being celibate!)

2. Makin time after supper to go out and see the beauty in the world from my front porch.

3. Shoe shoppin.

4. Why I had to learn love from someone other than my parents.

5. How Much I love watchin a cowboy work.

6. That I have such a blessed life.

7. What it would be like to have a marriage like my grandparents.

6 Things I do Before Bed

1. Return the last of the days emails and phone calls.

2. Fold the clothes in the dryer while watchin TiVo'd Reality Trash TV.

3. Shower, moisturize, brush, and floss.

4. Check on the punks.

5. Set alarm clock.

6. Read my Bible and Pray.

5 People that Mean a Lot to Me

Jesus Christ

Brooks

Rowdy

Kendle

Andrea

4 Things I am Wearing Right Now

1. Bijan

2. CND Solar Butter

3. Diamonds

4. My lucchese gators

3 Songs I Listen to All the Time

1. Alabama by Cross Canadian Ragweed

2. Waitin on a Woman by Brad Paisley

3. She's More by Andy Griggs

2 Things I Want to do Before I Die

Publish a Novel

Have a life-long love story

1 Confession

I like knowin that I don't think the same way as most of the people I know because I actually do like myself and think its funny that people settle for so little.

*You've just been tagged!  Take a minute to do the survey in my comments section and let me hear your 10 things!*

That Girl Is A Cowboy............

There's just somethin about this time of year. In terms of cattle ranchin, it couldn't be any busier: shippin cattle, weanin calves—every day for two weeks straight. Poor babies bawlin for their mommas, day and night! In terms of housework: weedin out all the summer clothing and too-small jeans, locatin and inventoryin the myriad of winter gloves, hats, boots, earmuffs, because if I wait until the temperature is eight degrees and it's 5:00 a.m. and I'm on my way out the door with my two punks, neither of whom can handle the cold, it'll be a problem.

As for gardenin: cleanin out the last of my tomatoes and herbs, which are now black and droopin to the ground after four nights of hard freeze.

Not to mention the daily grind of laundry, dirty dishes, and laundry.

Then there are the upcoming holidays: Halloween costumes to wrangle, treats to make, trick-or-treatin in town (will post on that later this evening!). Refrigerators to clean out in preparation for Thanksgiving food, cloth napkins to dig out from the depth of the ironin basket, where they've been languishin since last Christmas, I think.

Not to mention the daily grind of school. Sometimes I think I'm entirely responsible for my punk's minds. Not to mention the fact that I have been the Homeroom mom every year as long as I can remember!

There's Christmas on the horizon; I want to start shoppin so I can make wise and un-hurried choices, but I'm having a hard time gettin started. I have my list, but every day I consider shoppin online for Christmas gifts…then don't, because I have so many other things that need to get done. So I'll avoid it for awhile, until I can't avoid it any longer.

I'm going low-key for Christmas this year. I just feel like it…..Remind me I said that in two months.

Then there's the trip: I'm leavin soon on a trip. It's a big trip, and important one, and there's a lot to prepare for—I'll tell ya'll about it soon. But first I have to buy crap to kill the Chinese lady beetles that have swarmed our house and power bars and make sure my oldest has jeans that don't come up above his ankles. He's growin up too fast.

There's the ice maker that's broken, the skylights that leak, the shingles that blew off one of the barns, the trash the dogs overturned last night, and an impending doctor's appointment tomorrow. And I say this with a grin, I don't think they'll be makin me wait to see the Doc tomorrow. Than heavens for small blessings.....

I might ignore it and see if it goes away.

But most of all, there's joy. Because I have animals in my life…and beauty everywhere I look…and clothing…and shelter as the weather turns cold, A couple of friends who kinda like me, Punks who call me Mom-mom, and the fact that they haven’t drug my ass off to a FEMA camp yet!

I still don't like ironin napkins, though. So I don't think I'm going to do it this year. Yeah, right…..

Thursday 13.....13 Frequent Thoughts That Cross My Mind When I Meet Someone New

13 Frequent Thought That Cross My Mind When Meeting Someone New

 1.  Why yes, I am rolling my eyes at you.

 2.  And this pertains to me because?

 3.  I wonder where he found that dirty legged tramp.

 4.  No, this isn't the Bohemian Cowgirl Salon. It's hell with fluorescent lighting.

 5.  Please don't play the victim. I don't have time to explain the difference between the truth and what you want to hear.

 6.  Apparently, this dumb ass has a crack pipe busted smooth off in his ass, if he really thinks I am buying this line of bullshit.

 7.  Do you believe in love at first sight or do I need to walk by again? And by the way, you will fall for me.

 8.  There's no way in hell I am taking your check, let alone a postdated one. In God I trust, all others pay cash!

 9.  The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But it's still on the list.

10.  Why yes, Yes I am a bitch. Just not yours. Are you new here?

11.  I'm a bullshitter myself but occasionally, I like to sit back and listen to an expert. Please Continue.

12.  It's okay to hate me. I'm sure I talk shit about you anyways. Jealous much?

13.  My eyes are right here. Yes, they're real. Yes, they're fabulous. And yes, your boyfriend/husband was looking.

Sundays Scribblings.....Under The Fall!

I love fall. I love this countryside in fall. I adore the burnt oranges, the Cavender's catalogs, the fall harvest, trail rides, and the weaning of calves. I love the football it brings with it, not to mention the hockey and snow skiing. Bonfires and quite possibly hot chocolate, caramel apples, and roasted pumpkin seeds. Logs in the fireplace, lit to take the chill off. Crisp mornings against a clear blue sky, hunting season, and the turning of the leaves. Let's not forget, Homecoming, Pilgrims and Indians represented in school plays, and hayrides. Cinnamon scented votives and knee-high boots, fattened squirrels and clocks falling back.

If I were prone to such things, here's where I would write one of those open letters and toss it into the vast beyond to absolutely no one in particular. And apparently I am very much prone to such things. So Dear radio: PLEASE DO LET US HAVE FALL.

Soon our FM stations will inundate us with Christmas music, and I for one hate it. You've barely had time to make your way through the fall harvest corn maze and carve your pumpkin with the explicit intent of scaring the neighborhood children to the very verge of incontinence before they start with the not so dulcet tones of Springsteen's Santa What Not is Coming to Albuquerque and Madonna's insipid Santa Baby (PUKE). It simply isn't time, and like a preemie who hasn't warmed all the way through, I'm simply not ready.

So please, let me have my Irish Coffees and gallons of not particularly seasonal mulled red wine before I go there, would you? Let me curse dirty leaves that make their way into my pickup as well as my front entry way and one or more OSU Cowboys losses or Good Lord willing, wins--Long Live Cowboys. Let me be well into sweaters, hoodies, and scarves and, for the other unfortunate few, knitted hats that don't in any color scheme match their coats, other that to make them look like a burglar begging to be caught, before you strike. At least rest until the storing of canned cranberry jellies have passed. Because cranberry and a blue Christmas? It just isn't a good look for anyone!  And I am quite sure Santa won't mind one bit, although I do......

Then when we are ready, when the masses face frozen car doors, calves born in the middle of the night, punks with chapped cheeks, and the warm embrace of family holiday guilt, bestow upon us the Bing, Gene Autry, Burl Ives, and pretty much anything Perry Como. I'll support a three-week spree, MAX. And when New Year's passes, know that it's time to move on, time to resist the urge to start building the playlist for Christmas in July. Because like fruitcake and the Celine Dion box set, no one ever really asked for that anyway. For truth be told, there is no gift an imaginary Santa could bring that remotely compares to the only reason for the Season, Father God's gift of the birth of his only son, sent to save us from a fate worse than Christmas credit card debt. For you see I love Christmas as much as the next gal. I've just never understood how so few seem to remember the greatest gift EVER given.

Saturday's Sass......Easy On The Eyes, Hard On The Heart!

Do you think Wrangler know what this does to women? I would think it would open them up to all kinds of lawsuits. LMAO! Lord knows there are lots of things a woman would do for some of that!! Is that Wrong??????? It's all about the little things....the small pleasures in life. Mmmmm.....I need me some small pleasures, here directly!!! Apparently, I have been single for far too long

I Want Wednesday....You Know Mw Better Than That

I hate being misunderstood. Hate it. I despise it more than more than baby powder scented products, more than someone taking the last of something and leaving the empty container behind, more than the thought of Raisin Bran covered in mayo and topped with oysters. It’s the part about not being listened to. About someone not taking the time to figure out where I’m coming from. It’s about the connection between me and another human being breaking even for a second, a connection that I at times value more than my own bones. It’s an emotional fuck you that makes me five years old again, banging on my parents’ bedroom door only to be met with silence. Please open up. That’s not what I meant. Why. won’t. you. listen.

My nuclear foursome has never understood why I have a penchant for raising my voice to that end. In any argument, I’ll be the one thrashing about in an attempt to get a point across, given that neither rational thought nor courtesy prevails in their home. When I was little, they’d attribute these explosions to an excess of Red Dye #6, a wheat allergy, or the preferred and likely explanation of me just being a huge pain in the ass. For as many years, my family has thought my head explosions had been about me being heard, about regurgitating the words just spoken as evidence of their higher order processing. Surely being able to say what the Princess just said and in the tone in which Princess said it means we’re simpatico! It never did. It still doesn’t. After all, the mimes and the chimps and even Flipper can mimic. The conversion of these recited words was never quite right, either, as if no literal translations exist in Familyspeak. Yes, Princess. I get it. You need a lot of attention. Really? That’s what you took from me asking if we could turn off the television when I visit so we can spend more time talking to each other? Cue flailing arms, fourth-grade tantrum, me shrieking like a cat in the bathtub while my undisturbed mother drinks a mint julep and pats her brow. It ends with her raised palm – stop – and some form of me begging. You are missing the point. It’s me. I need you to listen.

Friends and lovers do this too, although given that most of my cronies and bedmates weren’t born in the ‘40s and therefore missed reading Ms. Passive Aggressive Manners, misinterpretations grow into much stronger fuck you. The initial miscommunication and resulting misunderstandings are much less civil than with family, what with the EXCESSIVE USE OF CAPITALS – which really should be reserved for cat and child custody disputes, don’t you think? – and the F bombs and complete and utter absence of e-tone. All of us can throw emotional grenades safely from behind our electronic devices, including the phone, doing little to help already compromised communication. Before you know it, your in box is a Jackson Pollack full of RE:s. Neither of you stopped to ask what that turn of phrase meant, to clarify a response that made the stomach drop. The outcome changes little.
 

Screw you.

I get it already.

I thought I knew you better than this.

It’s both an exercise in experience and frustration. Yes, I knew better but I thought you knew me better, too. I find myself banging on the door again, although this time it’s usually by hated cell phone or email. It’s trying to get someone to face me without being allowed to touch them. Please open up. That’s not what I meant. Why. won’t. you. listen.

My mind automatically interprets the underlying message. I must not mean enough if they won’t take the time to figure out what I’m trying to say. As a little one, there’s not much else to think. We know love, but we can’t make sense of people giving and pulling it away simply because of trappings and judgments. It’s never being given the benefit of the doubt simply because you are a known and loved entity. And I know her better. Kids screw up, but aren’t their intentions relatively pure until they steal your Escalade and plow it into a snow bank while snorting coke off the dash?

In adulthood, the identical message simply shifts sender. Responses are still reactionary, irrational, built on neuronal firing rather than a shared history and experience. And it gets me every time, this baggage, sucking me into a whirlpool of self-doubt. You know me. And if you aren’t understanding me, you aren’t listening. If you cared, you’d take the time to figure this out. In a head that can’t make sense of the shift, the blame resides entirely with me. I’m unable to differentiate things I’d do differently from the pain of not being understood. Screw their bullshit, how their past friendships or shitty day color our interaction. I’m falling short.

WHY. WON’T. YOU. LISTEN.

And suddenly I’m a fourth grader again, one who’s more glad than ever that the Internet doesn’t allow you a glimpse of all that flailing…..

Sunday Scribblings.....Smokin In The Boys Room

Day 1, morning 1 + 10 minutes.  

The McDonald's clerk beckons for number 175. Number 175, please come pick up your order. Number 175 . . . Bueller? Bueller? The dime hag approaches the clerk, saying, "I'm 175. But did you say 135?" Now, if the clerk had said 135, are you really willing to wait for 40 people to pick their McMuffin up before you get to? The assholes don't deserve to eat…..I think I'm edgy.

Day 2

I share with friends that I'm on the quest for health but worry about gaining more weight in the process. Dick emails me something along the lines of, "just because you don't have a cigarette in your mouth doesn't mean you have to shove a pizza in there," and I begin to fantasize about things I could shove in his trapper to head off further helpful commentary.

Day 3

I read someplace that it helps to think of yourself as a nonsmoker. I am a nonsmoker. I am a nonsmoker. That really felt good. I am a nonsmoker who would sell her eggs and her body for one cigarette, would agree to baby sit your litter and help your oldest build his baking soda volcano for just one precious lungful. I'd even take a dreaded generic.

Sometimes there is nothing like Marlboro country, whether you smoke or not!