Bah Humbug

Dear Mr. Santa Claus:

Excuse me, but I’m writing this letter to inform you that I’m skipping Christmas this year, and I’m plugging up the chimney so there’s no need for you to try and stuff your big old butt down there. 

What?

You heard me.  I don’t have time for this Yule tide crap and putting up the pesky tree and baking sugar cookies shaped like, well, you.  Who made you up anyway?  You aren’t very attractive, and I’d venture to say, you, sir, are no fashion plate.  I mean, seriously, that jacket and those suspenders are vintage something from the weird ages.    I usually don’t mind people dressing casually when they come into my home, but red pajamas?  Really?  

So, excuse me while I try to find another way to celebrate the holidays.   Santa Claus…less.   I know it can be done.   The Jewish folks manage just fine, quite beautifully actually. And who wouldn’t like a present everyday for Hanukkah.   I’m all about the presents.  I just don’t want to work too hard for them.  If I work the system through you, Santa, I have to bust my ass with all the yuletide and jingle-belly traditions, scary distant relatives and the dreaded deluge of Jell-O molds. 

Mistletoe for example.  Really?  What were you thinking with the mistletoe, Santa?  Don’t you get enough loving from Mrs. Santa during the off-season?    In all my days of celebrating the holidays, no one has ever been under that mistletoe with me that I would actually want to kiss.  Can you imagine the germs?  The bad breath?  Uncle Harold’s brown false teeth?  Great Auntie Marjorie’s snuff spittle?   No thank you.  I’ll pass on the mistletoe.  I don’t’ brush my teeth and use mouthwash to get spit-washed by Cousin James’ 12 inch tongue.  His wife might enjoy “all that” and more power to her.

Oh and Santa?  One of my readers recently called me Ms. Scrooge, and I would like to officially take issue with that.  When it comes to Christmas, the ONE thing I truly love is to give presents.  If I have money (or any room on my dozens of credit cards), my family and friends are going to be spoiled rotten with goodies.  I don’t like shopping, but I can push, paw and purchase with the best of them when it comes to getting a good deal.  And shopping online?   Oh baby.  For me it’s better than internet porn.  Not that I would know of such things.  But still…

Maybe what I need to do is just invent my own celebration.  Take you completely out of it, Santa boy.  Leave the Christmas ham in.  Take the mistletoe out.   Leave the hot cocktail waitress dressed up like Santa’s helper in.  Take the egg nog out.  Leave all the rest of the alcohol in. 

What?  I live in Vegas.  You celebrate your way.  I’ll celebrate mine.

Yes, Santa, this could work.  Except I have a bone to pick with you.    I just hate it when I get presents that I don’t want.   I remember my Aunt Loraine (bless her heart and may she still be resting in peace after I call her out like this) bringing over presents to our house for me and my sister.  Every year, I would get so excited with anticipation and then every year I would open up Aunt Loraine’s gift and it would be underwear.  Every freaking year.  What’s up with that business, Santa?  Couldn’t you have intervened at some point and stopped all the knickers-madness?  Seriously.

Isn’t that the definition of insanity?  “Doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results”.   Every year I had new hope for Auntie’s gift, and every year my hopes were dashed by the bloomers.   Sad.

Anyway, Santa, we were discussing the awful gifts?  You know, the ones like the seven-days-of-the-week panties pack,  the 50 cent box of chocolate covered cherries,  the costume jewelry, the fruitcake and the lava lamp?   I could go on and on.  Something needs to be done about awful gifts, Santa Claus.  I think I can help you out here, as I have a business degree and  I’m all about project management.  So, what you should do is, put together a sub-committee to research and discuss awful gifting, then have them report to you on a bi-weekly basis until they come up with a solution  Why bi-weekly?   I just like saying Bi.  (snort). 

One solution to this awful gifting dilemma might be to go into a store and put your gift preferences into a computer, like brides do when they register.  I sure as hell wouldn’t be listing knickers, either, so Auntie would be having a fit.  But she’s not here, so this just might work!  Have your sub-committee look into it, Santa, will ya?  If I receive one more jingle-bells singing fish I’m going to scream.  

 

 

 

 

In closing, Santa, maybe I won’t plug up my chimney after all.  I don’t want to go against tradition.  I like popcorn in those giant tins as much as the next girl.  Just please bring something cool this year, like an iPhone or a Corvette……….or a redhead.  I promise you I have been a very good girl.

What? Santa?  No, my fingers are not crossed behind my back!

(How’d he know?)

Sincerely,

Terri

 (Images from Google Images)

I Need an Overhaul for Christmas

My toenails are jagged.

My eyebrows are now one.

I’m too broke for the Spa.

And that ain’t no fun.

    *

My options are limited.

My hair has split ends.

I’ve gained a few pounds.

And broke a few winds.

   *

 I misplaced my self-confidence.

And found an extra chin.

I seriously need a die job.

I just can’t freaking win.

   *

So Santa if you’re watching.

And don’t like what you’re seeing.

I could sure use an overhaul.

For my mental well-being.

*

I’d like a new wardrobe.

And body wrap to renew.

A wonder bra and a face lift.

Would make me smile, too.

  *

You could send a personal trainer.

To help shape up my hiney.

And then provide a masseuse.

To rub sore places when I get whiney.

    *

You could send me to London.

For some rest and relaxation.        

And I’ll need a lovely redhead.

For the hot sex while on vacation.

      *

I’d like a watch from Cartier

And a bag from Louis Vuitton

And this year’s Superbowl?

Be nice if the Broncos finally won.

      *

I’d like a box of wine for Rachel.

And some Belgian chocolate for Nan.

A ticket to Vegas for Vidya.

And for my sister?   A new man.

    *

My list has been lengthy.

So I think that will do.

Thank you Santa and don’t forget.

To pick up a little something for you!

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(Image by Google Images)

Christmasy fun with Fred

Hola and Happy Holidays all my lovelies!    I came across a fun little Christmasy list (and stole it) over on Ms. Ann O’Malley- Your Daily Digression  where she said she stole it from someone else, who in turn, stole it from someone else, and so on and so forth.  You get the picture.  I don’t usually steal, but this one was cute and required very little effort on my part.  My effort meter is hovering on LOW today, so this is what you get.   Hope you enjoy.  You can either ‘steal’ it like I did, and use it for your blog, OR you can list some of your preferences in comments.  Either way, I’m happy.  But then, I’m pretty much always happy!  😛   Ask Fred, he’ll corroborate my story.  Or I will sqoosh him like a reindeer bug.  Ya hear me Fred?

Fred? You're being a Brat.

  1. Egg nog or hot chocolate?    Hot chocolate with little marshmallows.  Nog is nasty.
  2. Letter to Santa?   Dear Santa, right this minute, I’d like an In-N-Out Burger.  But later I’ll have to change my letter because I’ll want something else, like pie or wine.  Hmmm. There may be a few revisions before I’m ready to mail this.
  3. Does Santa wrap presents or just set them under the tree?  I wrap them and then Santa shows up at the damn mall and takes all the credit.
  4. Colored lights on your tree/house or white?   I prefer white.  Twinkle Twinkle!
  5. Do you hang mistletoe?   No.  But I will if you’re coming over?   <big evil grin>
  6. When do you put your decorations up?   Most years, the weekend after Thanksgiving.  Not this year though.  The jury’s still out…
  7. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)?   Baked ham with pineapples.
  8. Favorite holiday memory as a child?    Tons of aunts and uncles and cousins and food and presents.
  9. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa?    The stupid little boy in my class told everyone.  I still hate him.
  10. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve?   Yes if I can get away with it.
  11. How do you decorate your Christmas tree?  Uh.  With ornaments. And lights. And stuff.  Am I doing something wrong?  Is this a trick question?
  12. Can you ice skate?  Can you tie a knot in a cherry stem with your tongue?
  13. Do you remember your favorite gift?    I got a typewriter.  That was big stuff back then.
  14. What’s the most important thing about the holidays for you?   Spending time with those I love.  And then there’s the pie.
  15. What is your favorite holiday dessert?   Pumpkin pie.  Yummsville.
  16. What is your favorite holiday tradition?   Sneaking and putting something in each other’s stockings and trying not to get caught.  It takes some planning.
  17. What tops your tree?   A star.
  18. Which do you prefer, giving or receiving?  Both.  What?  I’m being honest.  Sue me.
  19. What is your favorite Christmas Song?   O Holy Night
  20. Candy Canes! Yuck or Yum?   Oh hells yeah.   I mean Yum.

Now wasn't that fun, boys and girls? Trust me. It's a lot more fun after a couple glasses of cheap wine. hehe

(Click on each image if you want to see a whole lot more of Fred!  And who doesn’t?)

Don’t do that to Santa

I thought I’d present a twist on a list this week and examine some of the important things to remember when dealing with the most generous of gift-givers, Santa Claus.  If you’re like me and love to give, but love to receive even more, you need to learn how to handle Santa to get what you want.  All seriousness aside and minds out of the gutter, please.  You have been issued fair warning, friends, and you have plenty of time to heed.  Should you choose to ignore my yuletide wisdom, don’t blame me for your empty stockings.  I’m just the messenger…Santa’s little helper, if you will.  Ahem.

The Top Ten Things You Should Never Say or Do to Santa if you Expect a Full Stocking:

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10.    Hanging extra stockings in order to get more stuff.   Santa has been known to fill said stockings with everything from snot to snakes.   Only the brave or very stupid would try this.

9.     Dressing your little yappy dogs up like reindeer.  Santa will take the pup with him, thinking he’s a new recruit.  You will never see that little varmint again.

8.    Not leaving cookies and milk out for Santa.   You may as well hang it up and stay in bed because Santa ain’t bringing you crap.   And?  You should be ashamed of yourselves.

7.    Leaving out stale cookies from Wal-Mart.   Santa has a palette, just like the rest of us.  Don’t freaking insult the guy with nasty cookies.  You hurt his feelings and he’ll shut Wal-Mart down.  Then where will I buy my cheap wine?  Please don’t do this.

6.    Substituting Soy Milk for the real thing.   You’ve gone and done it now!   When you wake up and see the deposit left on your expensive Persian rug, rest assured it was not your dog!

5.   Dressing up like Santa Claus and surprising the kids.  Although Santa is flattered for the emulation, he frowns upon this behavior because it really messes with the reindeer’s heads.  Last year he spent a fortune on therapy for Rudolph alone.  Just leave the Santa…ing   to Santa, will ya?

4.   Greasing the chimney so Santa can squeeze down easier, and then forgetting to remove the fireplace grates.   A skewered Santa is an unhappy Santa.   Instead of enjoying presents, you’ll be busy applying antiseptic and clean dressing to Santa’s butt.   Not much of a jolly holiday.

3.   Having Mom try to get a picture of Santa while she’s dressed in her sexy nightgown.  Not a good idea.  Santa is a man.   How do you think the song, “I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus”  came about?   Such behavior could lead to a whole other song and we don’t want to go there.

2.    “But Santa, I’ve been Good all year, really I have!”   Don’t lie, people.  Santa knows.  He has a naughty list, for crying out loud.  You’re going to get what you get and that’s all there is to it.  You may want to spend the next few weeks Googling “Fun and exciting ways to use Coal.”

1.   And the Number One thing Not to do to Santa Claus if you want a full stocking is:

Trying to stay awake to catch Santa in the act.    My Dad used to tell me that anyone who actually catches Santa in the act will instantly turn to stone.  I believed him.  I still believe him.  I go to bed like a good girl and I advise all of you to do the same.

So there’s my list.  I hope you will find it useful, if not a vital accessory to your Christmas repertoire.  Knowledge of proper Santa protocol is power, people.

Speaking of accessories:

This Versace Handbag has absolutely nothing to do with the rest of the post. I just wanted to leave Santa a hint. In case he's reading. Or she, as the case may be.

(Images by Google Images)

Christmas Wish List – Monday Listicles

Today’s Monday Listicles are all about what I want.  Only problem is, I can only list ten.  That was a challenge in and of itself.   My list is actually one of a collection of dream wishes, some of them could possibly happen some day and some are just that, lovely dream wishes.   I will admit, however, that it has been fun to take a few minutes of total self-indulgent dreaming about things I would like to do, places I would like to go, and treasures I would like to own.    I left out anything to do with family or personal relationships, just so I could focus completely and selfishly on my greed dreams.    So have a look at my wants, my likes and my desires.  

I want to go to London and ride this:

I want to go to India and visit the Taj Mahal. 

Then I want to visit the Statue of Liberty in New York.

Afterward, I’ll board one of these for my very first cruise ever

And I’ll be sporting this high-fashion Louis Vuitton Handbag.

And wearing this beautiful Pandora Bracelet.   I’m going to be strutting my stuff in style!

Back on land, I’ll head on out west and visit these four handsome gentlemen:

Afterwards, I’ll head on over to the Sequoia National Forest, and drive my car through this.  WOW

And what car will I be driving?   Well a Red Corvette of course!

After having a lovely time abroad and across this great country as well, I’ll head on home where I’ll be greeted by my last and Cutest Christmas wish.  An orange tabby kitten.  Any one will do.  I’m not picky

*******************

There you have it, my Christmas Wish List.  I don’t want much do I?

The truth of the matter is, I actually have a lot and I’m thankful for everything I have and for my lovely family and friends.  Life is good.  The rest are just dream wishes.  

I really REALLY would love an orange tabby kitten, though.

And that Louis Vuitton looked freaking amazing, didn’t it?

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(Images from Google Images)

Santa baby

I begin every single holiday season LOVING some Christmas songs.  For example, I Love Love Love this sexy little song, “Santa Baby”.   Have a listen:

 Santa Baby

But.

By the time Christmas rolls around, I want to put my long fingers around the bitch’s little squeaky neck and shut her up.  What?   Don’t you? 

There are other Christmas songs that are cutesy and make me smile.  At first.  But again, after a few weeks, my perception goes from cutesy to putting my size 9 foot through the fucking radio.   By that time, I’m way past any reasoning my feelings away.  Hearing “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” makes me want to go out and run some poor little old granny down.   It’s not pretty folks.

And my partner?   She really loves that stupid Stupid STUPID song  “I Want a  Hippopotamus for Christmas”.   I told her she already has one.   Me.  Just check out my rear end and shut up about it.    I don’t need some octave-impaired man woman hermaphrodite person croaking crooning about a hippo.  For cryin’ out loud.

And then there’s Alvin and the Chipmunks and anything…Anything they sing.  When one of their scratchy, screechy, scrunchy songs come on the radio, my mind goes into over-drive on how to hunt the creators down, tie the bitches up, and force them to listen to their crap for hours and hours and see how much they like it. 

I’m not ‘into’ bondage, but I could go there, people, if I had to.

Perhaps the worst  of the worst….the Piece de Resistance….the cream of the crap…..would be the Christmas songs sung by the cats.   Lordy.  If your ears haven’t been privy, have a listen:

Jingle Cats

Kinda gets you in the mood, doesn’t it?   Not for Christmas, but rather for peeing in a cat box and licking yourself.    Seriously, it’s what you don’t hear that can alter your psyche and give you shingles.  If you played that song backwards, you’d bark like a dog and chew holes in your new bunny house slippers that Santa Baby brought you.  You think I’m kidding.  Check my closet.  Bunny ears everywhere.

Some days you just can’t win.  If the radio or the TV isn’t blaring Christmas songs, they’re playing Christmas commercials of people dancing through malls, singing badly concocted versions of Christmas songs and holding bags and bags of Christmas cheer.  After viewing said commercial four or five times during a one hour show, you get up to raid the fridge and find yourself dancing across the floor and singing incomprehensible  lyrics because you can’t remember the words. 

But they got to you, didn’t they?  The retail devils and their disciples, and the hot women in those little red skirts got to you.  You’re suddenly in the Christmas spirit and you don’t even know why.  You just want to dance.  And shop.  And sing incomprehensible lyrics.  And pee in the cat box. 

However, Doctor Terri is in and has your best interests at heart.  Just hang on a sec while I step outside on the patio and howl at the moon.  It’s calling me.

Ok, that felt good.  I just need to Google dog-barking carols now.  I’m shaking with anticipation.  The world is my oyster and I’m allergic to oysters. 

Where was I?   Oh yea, the Doctor is in.  This is my diagnosis:

You are way past help now.  Just give in to the macabre urges and go with the flow.  This is a temporary condition.   Some things are just too big to fight.  Think of yourself as that little wooden soldier nutcracker sitting up on the fireplace mantle.  You can just watch all the action, and every now and then someone will stick their nuts in your mouth and you can be useful.  

It’s good to be useful.   And some people like nuts.

I leave you wanting more I’m sure, but I can’t sit here all day being brilliant.  I have things to do.  I can’t find my Snoopy Christmas pajamas and Wal-Mart is all out of my favorite fart-pillow stocking stuffers. I need to do some serious shopping research.

So?   Enjoy these last three weeks before Santa Baby makes an appearance.  And don’t worry about me because I’ll be on the mantle watching you.  Just, please, tell your guests I’m broken.  I gave up nuts years ago.

Teeth pulling, head banging, and deadlines

 

Writing a scholarly (there’s that word again) research paper can be likened to pulling one’s own perfectly good teeth and/or banging one’s own perfectly good head against a perfectly good wall.  It is self-mutilation in honor of academia, if you will.  It hurts.  Like the dickens. And it’ll cost a pretty penny to fix the hole in that wall.

I must enjoy pain.  But that’s another post for another time.

I have a deadline for this paper.  I hate deadlines.  I hate being told what to do.  I’m a bit of a loner and take pride in marching to my own little drummer.  My little drummer takes her own sweet time when marching, and I seriously have no control over that.  I have one speed:  Not fast.  Deadlines are never welcomed, not always met and frequently fretted over and the cause of many a nervous breakdown.  I wouldn’t have first-hand knowledge of that last symptom, however.

  At least not yet.

The research study paper begins, of course, with a Title Page.  This is a complete waste of paper, the killing of a tree, like saluting the environment with a big ‘Fuck You’.    It’s just wrong.  The Title Page consists of a title, a date and the author’s name, all centrally positioned on a big white boring page.    However, I am all about pleasing Professor so I comply.

There go the nation’s forests.  Don’t blame me.  I have a ‘thing’ for getting A’s.  I must get an A in this writing project.  I simply must.  So kill a tree?  Absolutely.   Miss the deadline?  Usually not an option.  Bang my head and pull my teeth?  I’m into pain, remember?

After the Title Page is the first page, which begins with something called an Abstract.   The abstract is not to be confused with the Introduction, which must also be included, but comes right after the abstract.  Here’s where I take issue, people.  In said abstract, I must summarize my overall intentions for the research paper in the first place.  So, I ask you, what’s that leave for the Introduction?

“Hello, my name is Theresa and I am writing this research paper to provide proof of my innocence. I have the right to remain silent….”   Oh wait, I fell asleep there for a sec.  That doesn’t quite fit, does it?  So what does fit?  I never did like introductions anyway.  Maybe I’ll just throw that section out. Maybe Professor won’t notice if I bribe him with a virtual apple or better yet, a virtual BJ or something.  I’m willing to try anything.  Although I’m really out of BJ practice, quite honestly.    And then there’s the whole gag reflex thing.  Ugh.  Serious lesbian nightmare material.

But I digress.

And the plot thickens.

Next you have to provide something called a Literature Review.  Believe me when I tell you that this section is not nearly as romantic as it sounds.  We writers think of ‘literature’ as something readable and get our warm-fuzzies on just thinking about it.  This is not that kind of literature, people.   The literature review is comprised of brief but thorough explanations for each and every piece of research information covered for your research project.    It’s a bitch is what it is.

Right about now, you’re either sipping your wine and wondering what the hell I’m babbling on and on about.

OR you’ve fallen asleep and your wine is now warm.  Make sure to wipe that drooly stuff off your face. Not attractive.

OR you’re thinking a literature review sounds a lot like a Bibliography.  You would be right on all counts:  the babbling, drooling and the bibliography.  So go ahead and get a refill on that wine.   I’ll join you.

So what I’ve figured out so far is that research study reports are so freaking large because you have to formulate your research info into several different sections, thus saying virtually the same damned thing over and over again, only mixing the words around for a more scholarly effect.

Kinda shines the old term, “educated idiot”  in a whole new light, doesn’t it?

And?  By the time I’m finished with this program and obtain that coveted Masters Degree, I will owe a whole bunch of money.   Again, ‘educated idiot’ anyone?   I can see how that might be perceived.

So, boys and girls, what have we learned today?  We learned some new words, or at least some new definitions for old words, right?   Let’s define some terms now, shall we?

  1. Deadlines.   Make you do things.  Bad things.  Because you gotta get an A.
  2. Head-banging and Teeth-pulling.   Normal daily workout for Grad students.
  3. Wine induced coma.  A beautiful dream of school break and happier times.  All you need is enough wine to get you there.
  4. Educated idiot.    Yours truly.  And getting more so with each passing second.
  5. Masturbation…..err, I mean Masters Degree.  There’s no time for the former.  Sadly.
  6. Virtual bribery.  Apple, BJ, sexting, cash, jewelry, first born. (See number 1)

 

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Turns out, there’s a whole lot more to this freaking fancy paper than the sections I have described above, too numerous and too boring to mention.  I’ve been plugging away all day on this mutha-effing report, and now I’m enjoying blogging, reading some blogs and drinking some wine.  I’ll finish the thing tomorrow.  Deadline?  Oh, that was yesterday.  I’m late.  And I’m handling it pretty well, don’t you think?

I sent my “apple” off to teacher.   I’ll still get an A.

Just kidding!   Cheers!

 

 

(Image by Google Images)

Ten of my Favorite Photos and Monday Listicles

Hello out there in List Maker land!  I am joining the ranks of  the list makers and linking up with Stasha at The Good Life for Monday Listicles this week.   We are supposed to post our favorite ten photos, or any list of ten of anything we want to post.   So after searching my sleepy brain, I decided to wipe away the cobwebs of my old photo box and display some of my faves.  While the photos I’m posting may not be my very favorites, they certainly are up there with extra creamy chocolate and bargain sweet red wine.   In other words, I’m hooked.   Here’s my top ten:  (click on photos to enlarge)

This is me enjoying my very favorite libation, a giant margarita. This was my second. Shhhh...

My older son Abe. He's 38 now. Here he was 4 and we were stationed in Turkey. One of my best memories ever.

Favorite Cheap Wine. Enough said...

Younger son Glenn. He's 29 now. He was 4 here. Can you tell, I like the Age of 4? He had this "look" he could give me and I would melt and immediately open the cookie jar. This was that Look.

Favorite Hang Out. I am not kidding. These people have a lot of my money.

My prized John Elway Bobblehead Doll. I am a Denver Broncos Fanatic and I sure do miss this guy at Quarterback.

Favorite thing on which to spend my money. Handbags. I'm addicted beyond addiction.

Favorite Flowers. OK, my second favorite. My first favorite are red carnations. However, my son sent these to me last Mothers Day and I fell in love with Tulips.

That's my grandson, Tono and my son Abe (on the side). Tono never sits still and I just love this picture of his energy!

My favorite Christmas decoration. Meet Fred. He will be featured soon on one of my silly blogs. This picture is titled "Fred Really Close". It was his idea.

So there it is, my first attempt at Monday Listicles.  It was fun.  Thanks to all the ladies who have welcomed me in.    Now I must hop on over and check out the other Monday Listicle blogs!

Have a Fabulous Monday.     What?    Can’t seem to get Fred out of your thoughts?   Not to worry.  It happens.   He’s a charmer.

Droggers and Poggers

 

Good evening.  News reporter Terri Snoozoda here, coming to you from the La-Z-Boy Lounge chair in Lost Wages, Nevada with a breaking news story and film at Eleven.  Drunk Blogging, or Drogging, has hit an all-time high, and is causing major mayhem and even macabre misadventures across our fair nation.

Yes, folks, people are popping the cork and providing the poop on anything and everything from sex to shinola.  And it’s not just happening in high-crime areas; the rich are doing their share of Drogging, too.   They are breaking out the bubbly and busting out of their bustiers in alarming numbers.  How do you think the Kardashians got into such a mess?

This is serious people.

They are drogging in the city.  They are drogging in the country.  They are drogging in droves and they are doing their drogging alone.   It’s a phenomenon of perpetuity, people, and it’s not going away. 

The latest vein of droggers has been uncovered on the west coast, deep in the beautiful wine country.   And, if you’re brave enough to do some recon, you may spot an indigenous naked clan of merlot droggers running through the orchards and soaking up the ambiance between sips from their leather wine pouches.   The general public fears this species the most.   A drogger of this caliber could, after all, change the world as we know it.

And what’s next?  Pot smoking bloggers?   Poggers?   How far can we let this get before we take action?

I say the time to act is now!  

HURRY!   Empty all the bottles.  Burn all the Pot!  Satan is making these pour souls Drog and Pog and lord knows what else or what will come next?

How do I suggest solving the situation?

I say make them put their drinks down, take that bong and chuck it, lose the smart phones, tablets and PCs.

Give them all a Book and a Pen and a Piece of Paper and let them loose.  We don’t want to hurt them.  We just want to neutralize the creative little heathens. 

 Let’s get back to basics people, before we all go to hell in a hand basket.

What?  We can’t do that?   Well, why the hell not?

Because we burned all the books?

Oh. No.

Uh, this has been your Lost Wages news reporter, Terri Snoozoda.   Tune in tomorrow evening for my new weekly feature, “Gingivitis.  If you can spell it, thank a Dentist.”

 

My ‘Betcha Hadn’t Thought About Being Thankful for That’ List

Thanksgiving approacheth. 

Bloggers are blogging family stuff and thankful stuff and touchy-feely-lovey-dovey stuff.  It’s enough to move your tear ducts into overdrive.  Pretty soon we’ll all need windshield wipers on our eyelids.  Thanksgiving is a beautiful family holiday, full of all the gratefulness you can muster, but try not to get all sappy on me, will ya?   Sheesh…

Pumpkin pie.  Now, that’s my personal favorite part of the Thanksgiving meal.  Keep your turkey, just hand over the pie.  And the whipped cream, while you’re at it.   I’m thankful for pumpkin pie.

On a buzz-kill note, I am missing my family this year and won’t be able to visit as I had previously planned.  I am sad. 

But.

I still have things to be grateful and thankful for.  And I thought I’d share the less publically recognized reasons for being thankful.  I’ll bet you didn’t even realize those existed, did you?   Well, that’s why I’m here, to enlighten and amaze, delight and befuddle, and most of all, to open your eyes, people.  If you’re going to go to all that trouble to be thankful for something, don’t do it half-assed.  Be thankful for everything.

So.

I’ve made a list and kept it fairly short.  I am sure you will find something to relate to on MY thankful list.  Give it a look….

My List of Stuff I Hadn’t Thought About Being Thankful For, Before, But Now I Am…Thankful For, That is

I am thankful for Green Bean Casserole.  Because there needs to be one thing on that holiday table that I really don’t want to shovel in my mouth.  I need to show restraint somewhere.

I am thankful for blog sites that require me to wait for approval on my comments.  I was wondering what I was going to do with that time.

I am thankful for the M Resort Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, three minutes from where I live.  Because once a week, they give me a free bottle of wine.  And I don’t know why.

I am thankful for spell check, dictionary.com and thesaurus.com.  Because of NaNoWriMo.  ‘Nuff said.

I am thankful for the gorgeous hard-bodied joggers that run down my street.  They remind me why I’m a lesbian.

I am thankful for long lines at the DMV, followed by the long wait times after they give you a queue number.   I can read or play with my phone.  If I brought a book or if I had a smart phone.  You can’t get that time back, people.

I am thankful for Paula Dean on the Food Network.  I miss my family in Georgia and she sounds just like all of them.  Bless her heart.

I am thankful for that one stubborn chin hair I fight with each morning.  It keeps me agile with the tweezers.  Got to stay on my game, ya know.

I am thankful for temporary employment agencies.  NOT.   Don’t get me started.

I am thankful for my 6 year old iPod.  It spared me from having sex with the downstairs neighbors last night.  (They are a wee bit vocal)   It did not spare me from being jealous, though.

I am thankful for Craig Ferguson on the Late Late show.  He has kept me company on many sleepless nights.  I watched a taped show of his in the daytime once, and it was a bit unsettling.

I am thankful for my gray hair, my laugh lines, my wrinkles and my age spots.  I earned them.  I lived them. They define and decorate me and make me who I am.  I don’t like the “old” part though.

I am thankful for Stove Top Stuffing.  Because I can’t make dressing worth a shit.

I am thankful that I am broke.  Because I can sleep in on Black Friday.  (and if you believe this one, I have a bridge I’d like to sell you)

I am thankful for crazy stupid drivers.  Because every now and then I need to run through my repertoire of cuss words.

I am thankful for my sweat pants.  Because I have a feeling my comfy jeans will be too tight after Thanksgiving dinner.

I am thankful for the Denver Broncos.  Because being a fan teaches me how to lose gracefully, patience, and I again get to go through my repertoire of cuss words.

I am thankful for our little Santa’s light-up village.  Because it’s still displayed on top of our cabinets as we never took it down last year.  Less work this year!

And finally, I’m thankful for all my lovely blog friends all over the world who don’t judge me because I’m gay, don’t hate me because I’m beautiful and don’t resent me because I’m brilliant.  I can’t help all that stuff.  It just comes naturally.

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Truth of the matter is, I am very thankful for so many things…too many to mention.  And especially the little things.  A child’s smile, a beautiful sunrise, a really good cup of coffee, my grandson’s voice on the phone, and a friend’s support.     Those things are real.   And I truly am humbled and thankful.

Wishing you all a very Happy Thanksgiving in my own inimitable style.  XOXOs

 

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