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Friday, April 29, 2011

~Trying Not To Step On Worms

If you see me after the rain walkin' and lookin' sad.  I'm not.  I'm trying not to step on worms.  Worms, which by the way look an awful lot like fallen pine tree needles. 

(Squishy worm - right, innocuous pine tree needle - left)

I don't have any real issues with worms.  They have their jobs.  They, for the most part, leave me alone, I mean, I've never been attacked by a worm or anything.  I'm not even scared of 'em.  I've picked them up.  I can even put them on a hook if I'm fishing, although, I must admit, I do try to tie them to the hook more so than actually pierce their lil' worm bodies, not that I've fished in forrrrrrever.  I'm just sayin', I'm not heeb'd and jeeb'd out by them. 

I'm so ok with them that my plan is even to have one of these new fangled cardboard coffins so the worms and bugs can get to doin' their jobs tout suite.  I really don't have any problems with the the line-y, inching along set.

Except for the concept of stepping on them.  That totally freaks me the fuck out.  The thought of splitting a worm in two under my sole is just too much for me.  And then having to somehow clean my shoe before I walk back in my place spreadin' wormy guts and goo as I go?  Hellz to 'da no.  I'm not havin' any part of it.  And if I have to be looked at as the sad girl walkin, so fuckin' be it.  

(Big ass worm encountered during short ass walk.)

Now, I wear a 10 to a 11.   ...I know, I know, I have big ass feet.  Guess what?  They hold me up, so suck it.  Plus, it's not called the Lil' Petite Girl World, is it?  Anyhoo, as you can see that's one big ass worm.  Imagine looking up (not looking sad), walking and not noticing this guy as you squish it in the middle.  Grrrrrrrrrrr.  Oss.  Just thinking about it makes me think of the story of the lambs in Silence Of The Lambs.  I can hear the whines of worms!!   Alright.  That might have been a wee over the top, but it was kinda fun, wasn't it? 

Happy Weekending!  Avoid the worms.


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Wednesday, April 27, 2011

~Asses

People are asses. I know everyone has to have one. But be one? Come on now. That's a choice. Choose better, please. I don't know how much longer I can resist the urge to strike out with a brick to the head.
~♥ BBG

...Was my status update.

I know it's not always easy not to be an ass.  However, it's also not like the worlds hardest fuckin' task ever either. 

In large part the only requirements to not be a straight up ass are:
  • Self restraint
  • Do unto others-ness
There were 111 more steps to logging on to this computer for heavens sake.  Yet, not being an ass seems to be sooooo difficult for sooooo many.


Don't get me wrong, sometimes you have to be an ass.  Sometimes the world just won't have it any other way.  But that's assy for a reason, not just assy for the sake of bein' an ass.    


I hate to go all, 'All I Ever Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarden', but reeeeally; play fair with the others.  Share.  Be honest.  Do right.  Avoid being completely self centered.  Value others.  Be considerate and thoughtful.   ...Which while not that hard to do are all concepts that seem to be going the way of cursive writing and the dodo bird. 

As part of my ongoing quest to be part of the solution, I offer up the following suggestion.




(Print, cut and liberally pass out to people who give you ass.)

Perhaps you could even jot down their assy offense and in the true spirit of the BBG, describe how being an ass can be avoided next time.  Jamie Oliver has his food revolution, I, today am starting the official Anti Ass Initiative (AAI).  Congratulations!  You are all charter members.  Face it, if'n you're here, you're already a cool kid, likely of exceedingly high good judgement.  Together we can get some shit done.  We can take a step towards changing the actual world, correcting one assy dolt at a time.  

I'm just sayin', a group of people started the civil rights movement, let's be the folks who start the be civil movement.  Let's start to eradicate the assy behavior that it seems we're ever increasingly exposed to. 

Enough is efuckin'nough. 

Can I get an amen?


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Sunday, April 24, 2011

~Bock Bock Easter Bunny

I don't wanna be overly dramatic...but I could not find myself more pleased this morning as I cracked open the bubbly, strangely citrus-y, crisp, first in 40 days, Mt. Dew.

I swear I heard the strains of angels singing as I broke the seal.

And now I set my sights on chocolate, also missing from my nutritional intake during this Lenten season.  I'm thinkin' of opening my Resse's eggs.  I, of course realize that considering chocolate for breakfast is probably widely frowned upon, but widely ain't had the past several weeks I've had, and even though it is a religious day, I'm forced to say: Suck it!  

(...And at this rate, probably, "I'm sick to my stomach", by noon.)

Hoppy Easter!
(Bock-bock)







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Thursday, April 21, 2011

~Dear CBS News


I don't expect you to be perfect.  Really, the only things I require outta the news is that it be impartial and that you be smarter than me.  (Which, frankly, shouldn't be that hard.)  See, if that's not the inferred unwritten contract between you, the news delivery system and me the viewer, then maybe you should be sending a camera crew here and I'll tell people some shit about the ta-doin's in the world.  I can't promise you high ratings, but I can promise that I know the fuckin' difference between Mit Romney and Newt Gingrich. 

Love,
BBG


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Tuesday, April 19, 2011

~Before I Have To Change The Name Of The Blog To BBG's Craptastic World... (aka: Things That Made Me Happy)

So before you think I'm going full time bitter, I want you all to know that I have had some BBG appreciated stuff happening. I'm tryin', contrary to popular belief, to accentuate the positive. (Am I the only one who remembers that song?)


For instance, there I was, there I was (a little present for my pal Beannie), on the highway traveling east, when whaaaaat popped on the radio?




Hellz to 'da yeeeeaaah! 

Followed up by a lil':



You should have seen me rollin' on down the road singing at the top of my lungs, head bouncin' back and forth, fingers tappin' on the dash and steering wheel. Hot damn was I one happy BBG! I musta looked like quite the freak. Thankfully, I'm a quick driver so folks don't get much of a chance to gawk at me when I'm busy makin' a fool of myself on the highway.


One day while engaged in my favorite pass time shopping (sorry, that's only funny [and known sarcasm] to the peeps who actually know me, as I fuckin' hate to shop. For any thing. It's just never been my gig. I want to be in and out, no doddling, efficient stuff acquisition and then o-u-t. And don't get me started on the concept of "window shopping", as I assure you I find it even more of a totally fucking inexplicable way to spend ones time.), I ran into local news anchor and Teddy Ruxpin doppelganger, Jerry Revish.


For some unknown reason lack of control I felt the need to tell him (no hello, or introduction) that I'd met his dog several weeks ago. And as if that didn't seem kooky enough, that he was verrrry cute and seemed verrrry nice. (The dog of course.  I was not hittin' on Teddy Ruxpin.)  In I'm sure what was some sort of internal quest to believe that perhaps the BBG stranger verbally accosting him spoke of some other dog, he asked which one as we both said his d oh double g's name. (Good googily moogily, for some other unknown reason I feel the need to protect the sweet dogs privacy by not mentioning his name. I am such a fuckin' freak.) He asked where we met and I told him, kept walking and wished him a nice day.


The funny (to me) thing was that when I met his dog a third party introduced me to the dog and told me who he belonged to, and I can remember thinking, that I wouldn't do that, or want that done to me for security, well, I guess privacy reasons. ...Honestly, the this exact reason. I mean reeeeally, does Jerry Revish need strangers holding random pet conversations as he shops? However, it did cause a wee chuckle as it sunk in with me how peculiar that exchange was.


I also had a buddy visit one evening, Dole Pineapple, who brought me Peeps and wine. How awesome is it to receive a gift of Peeps and booze?!? I was touched by the weird and curious combination, mainly because if I'm trying to perk someone up they're probably receiving something weird and odd in composition. 

(I have to hold onto the Reese's eggs until Easter.  And then I'm gonna eat the hell outta those
you got your chocolate in my peanut butter/peanut butter in my chocolate eggs.)

Another day I hopped on the freeway and spied this old school truck in my rear view, I mean ooooold school.  But it was so far (and getting farther) behind me I couldn't get a good gander at it.  But I did, more quickly than Johnny Law would probably have appreciated, catch up with this fun to see ride:


(I know.  Not the best picture.  Cut me some slack, I was drivin' after all.)

I've also received a bit of joy from the words like "beautiful" and "gorgeous" that have been bandied about by Dr. S in reference to me.  Obviously, indicating that Dr. S may want to go ahead and make an appointment with the optometrist, but a welcomed BBG boost none the less.

I also have some happy, happy, joy, joy for others, including LB2'd who celebrates her 40th today.  I've known her 1/2 the time she's been alive.  There's been  lot of tears, a lot of pizza and booze, a little vomiting (her part, not mine.  Did you forget who the BBG is?!?  Besides she's all of like 104lbs. so that's gonna happen over 20 years, ya know?) and a couple children, but waaaaaaay more split your sides, catch your breath laughs.  So one big ass Haaapppy Birthday LB2'd!  You are a blessing in my life. Good on ya to another of my besties and blessings in my life, AnonD who has taken a step in doing something to give herself a better life, to which I say awesome (and congrats!).

We'll see what this week brings.  In the meantime a lil' history lesson:



 







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Saturday, April 16, 2011

~Lobster Or Bust

T'is the Lenten season.  Which in addition to me being slightly bitter about having to do without chocolate and pop, means seafood.  Not being that big on seafood, it's a very strategic time of year for me.  I don't want the same seafood-y option twice between Ash Wednesday and Easter, so I have sumthin' different each Friday.  Wendy's fish sammie.  Check.  Ronald's filet o' fish.  Check.  Supermarket sushi.  Check.  Blah, blah, fuckity, blah.  Check.  This Friday was my time honored turn at lunch at Lobster.  (Yes, of the Red variety.)  Others may be included in Lobster day, but the one constant is my friend MGB.    It started a million years ago with us being the two Catholics at our job and pretty much every year we've sustained our routine ever since.

As I headed out to our 2011 Lenten lunch I noticed the irony as I was dressed in yoga pants a cami and some sorta athletic-y zippy jacket.  There it was staring back at me in the mirror as I thought, 'yep. There's nuthin' more ridiculous than a big girl in athletic gear gearin' up to go eat 4 days worth of deep fried and breaded seafood-y goodness calories?'  Apparently, recognizing irony and being able to stop it are two entirely different things because I giggled internally and turned and walked out the fuckin' door hoppin' my fat ass into my big ass SUV. 

It was good seeing MGB, who because she lives on the other side of the moon (aka: out in the country), I don't see nearly often enough.  MGB, one of the three smallest girls I know, pulled up in this big ass Yukon, up from her last regular sized sport ute, making my first words to her instead of mainstream "hello", "what's next a Peterbuilt?"  Ahhhhh...good to know I haven't lost my ass-y essence over the past several weeks.  (Of course I then had to explain, because in addition to me there are probably only 3 other girls in these great states united who use semi manufacturers as a day-to-day reference point, and she wasn't one of them.)

Fortunately she knows I'm an ass. (And weird.)   And even with that knowledge she asked me to join into her kool kidz book club, comprised of several skirts who I really dig.  Even framed it in the most appealing fashion to me with, "you don't even have to read the book." 

MGB, you had me at don't have to read. 

In a departure from my normal/left to my own devices eating habits, I indulged in a full on meal.  Not a "healthy" meal.  Unless of course you have perhaps sustained some sort of significant head trauma; fried shrimp, fried clams, baked potato swimming in a pond of butter, salad swaddled in copious amounts of bleu cheese dressing and a biscuit.  (...Serious biz the Surgeon General is gonna hunt me down and kick my ass.)  However as MGB and I discussed, cooking for one is just the epitome of stupidity, in my lazy ass opinion, so something other than a cob of corn, or alternating days of pb and j with grilled ham and cheese sammies was probably a good choice all-in-all.  Right?  Or was that just the result of crazy ass rationalization?  I donno.  Either way it was pretty damn tasty.

 (The lobsters were very lively)

MGB shared some good news about some good people we know, and caught me up on some other folks we know.   It was a delight, and well needed diversion to spend a little time that put a smile on my face.

As we were leaving we stood in the parking lot chattering away as girls do, and watched a couple pull up in his shiny black, roof down, I'm compensating for small junk car.  At which point I look at MGB and ask, "wouldn't buyin' a button that says 'douchebag' have been cheaper?"  Again, she already knows I'm an ass.  And apparently, illiterate. 

See ya next year Lobster.


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Thursday, April 14, 2011

~Miscellaneous Crap Tickin' Me Off (aka: Everything)

I believe when I hand someone, lets say a cashier something (cold hard currency, or card, etc.) that the polite thing to do, nay, the socially acceptable and appropriate thing to do is to return it to my hand.

Am I wrong?

I mean, I'm not that worlds longest nail man, or a leper, so why would ya slap it down on the counter?  I find it to be rude. 

How rude?

A:  So rude that the past few times it's happened, I've looked at the cashier and said something like, "it's considered polite if someone puts something in your hand to return it to their hand, not the counter where it's likely to be forgotten or left behind".  Yes Emily Post it is poor etiquette of me to point out a faux pas, I figure they were clearly raised by wolves, and ya know, they say it takes a village and all, plus as you know I'm tryin' to be part of the solution.  To my credit, I do restrain myself from actually using the term dumbass when I say it.

Also pissin' me off lately, are the mutha fuckers who change lanes in an intersection.  Are they just givin' out drivers licenses in cereal now?   Or is society officially slipping into anarchy? 

Today I stopped at the gas station and this asshole BMW sport ute driving chick was parked all whopper jawed, to a pretty crazy ass degree.  I parked right beside her, 100% in my assigned lines.  When I returned she glared at me and said, "thanks for parking so that I can't pull out".  Reeeeally dumbass bitch, sweetie "you parked your car in such a manor.  I simply pulled into an open spot, perhaps next time you should shoot for being in the lines and not crooked to avoid such troubles", hopped in my ride and went the fuck on with my day. 

World why are you testing me?

Things are tickin' me off so much that I find myself ticked about some stuff that hasn't even happened yet.  For instance this new show The Voice.  I'd like to watch it (at least once) but Celo is keeping me from it.  While I like his lil ditty, I mean a song called Fuck You, yeah, that's right the hell up my alley, ya know?  But his limbs look suspiciously close to midget limbs, so I'm out.  (Thanks NBC.  Oh, and CeeLo's parents.)

In short:


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Wednesday, April 13, 2011

~The Tale Of The Toe

Mrs. Mackey this is just for you...and whoever else happens to be stopping in (my apologies).  For those of yins (I don't know why I went all Pittsburgh on ya there?) coming late to the toe party, a month ago I stupidly stubbed my toe on something under my desk.  Because I am the BBG, of course this wasn't just a hop around and whine occasion, noooooo, the nail of the "this lil' piggy went home" toe actually came out of the nail bed at the bottom and was up and over the cuticle. 

Yea.  It wasn't pleasant.  And was just the topper of an otherwise perfectly horrible weekend.  I was taken upstairs and cleaned off and slipped the nail back under the cuticle.  (Eeeeewww, right?)

Since then I've been trying to keep my eye on it and have, much to my chagrin been wearin' shoes around the house.  Crappy as I'm very much the barefoot sort in the confines of my four walls.  It's been a few weeks since last I saw it (thank you nail polish!), but today I redid the nail polish giving me a peek at the toe ta-doin's.

Exhibit A:

As you can see the "this lil' piggy had roast beef" toe is almost 100% good in da hood.  The bruise underneath the nail has almost grown out completely.    The other one is discolored and generally looks sad.  However, it feels fine, not wiggly, even when I clipped it.  There is no pain or anything.  I hope it doesn't stay that hue.  But as I keep my nails polished and flip flop ready all of the time, I guess as long as it doesn't get worse all is fine.


Oh.  Fuck, shit, damn, hell.  (I can't have a non cursing post can I?)

Now to finish painting these two nails...


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Monday, April 11, 2011

~30 Days

It's hard to believe it's been 30 days since I was last happy.  For a chick who's usually if not downright happy, at least happy-ish and more or less contented, it feels like an eternity.  I haven't had a decent laugh or a good day in far too long than I am comfortable with.  Don't dial 911, it's not like I'm downin' a bottle of pills or anything, I've had a chuckle or two.  And days are tolerable.  But a BBG needs fun and good times baby.  Regularly. 

Yesterday brought a modicum of appreciation with our first 80+ degree day of the season.  A welcome event from a snowy winter in these parts.  It also brought out the first sundress and flip flop occasion of the season.  So, yea...

On a different and more pleasant note, Haaaaappy Birthday to GinCat, who I've known since the 4th grade!


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Tuesday, April 5, 2011

~Dear Kroger

Dear K' Rogers,
It's important that you know from the outset that I'm no uber greenie. Or, environ-nazi. (Is that even a thing? If not, it is now.)  I don't even have kids, and how the fuck long am I gonna live? I mean, I hope a good long time provided I'm in good health and sharp mind, ya know?  ...What?  Another 40 years if I'm lucky?  So there's only soooo much I'm willing at this moment in time to do to save the world. Sorry if you find that offensive, but I'm tellin' you my truth.


Some things I'm willing to do to help the earth, and, well, other things I'm just not. I'm willing and happy to recycle. Of course that's because it's pretty easy as they don't require us to really do any sorting. In the blue can with the wheels it goes if it's recyclable. Easy. I'm in.

I'm willing to unplug a lot of things not used daily or at least frequently. Frankly, I don't even know what that does, except save a few pennies over the course of a year on my electric bill, but "they" say it's good to do, and it's not too much of a hassle so I do it. (Hummm.... Now that I think about it, I think the "they" I speak of here is that lil' crazy cartoon lightning bug fella that told me that. Who says advertising doesn't work?!?)
Conversely, there are things even though I have an understanding of the ecological, geopolitical and financial ramifications, that even though I think I probably should be doing as part of 'my part', I...well, am not fuckin' there yet, and maybe never will be. Things like not driving a big ol' hulkin' American made, gas guzzlin', road hoggin' SUV. I'm sorry. I know a smaller or hybrid is better for the world, but that's not who this BBG is. Viva the SUV! I like bein' 'up there'. I don't think I can ever go back to being down there. I just can't. Nay, I won't. (shakes fists intensely) In wee acquiescence, I do try to coordinate my errands so that I'm using the most concise route known to me. So I do, do that. (no matter how old I am the word do-do is still a funny)


So that's where I am on the spectrum of not giving a rats ass about the environment vs. actually hugging a tree, ok? Ima nut for writing this, but I'm not a nut about being green, got it?


It's important to make this distinction, so that you understand the gravitas of my following question;


Why the hell must I have twice as many fuckin' lil' plastic baggies as I have actual grocery items?


Every fuckin' time I come back from the grocery I have waaaaay the fuck too many of your lil' baggies.


I understand not wanting to overload bags, 'cause I'm betting customers complaining about damaged goods from a broken bag ain't your idea of a good way to spend the time of your staff. And I understand avoiding, or minimizing some cross contamination opportunities. Super, thank you. But come the fuck on man. I had 17 bags after my last visit. I barely bought one of those mini carts full of stuff.  Seriously, I almost went to the 15 and under line, but thought I might have one or two more than that and was too lazy to count-- and frankly, never really know if two of the same items is considered one or 2, ya know? I realize that sounds stupid...Clearly I know it's two individual items, but if you lured me into buying two on one of 'dem there two-fer deals, is it reeeeeally two items? Or at that point is it considered one unit. Like I say, I donno, but I don't like to be a cheater, so I generally just get in a regular line.


For as little as I was picking up, 17 bags seems excessive. Is there some kinda kick back or payola type thing going on with you and the plastic bag manufacturers?


I know, I know, I could chose paper or have one of those reuse-y bags. But instead of me changing my way of doin' things, could you just train your baggers that some things can be put together in the plastic bags and that the bags are capable of securely holding more than 5 ounces of groceries? Could that happen?

(One bag.  Three items.)
(One bag.  Two items.)
(One bag.  One item.  It's a bagel.  Notice how it's already in a bag.)

If I could come home with fewer baggies than actual groceries, that would be great.  Come on Kroger, let's do just a little sumthin' to help the planet, huh?  Is it too much to ask?  I'm doin' what I can, please do the same.  I'm probably not gonna be around in 150 years, but you might be, and do you want customers thinkin' you're a bag wasting, landfill cluttering, planet killer, or a responsible corporate citizen?
Love,
BBG

P.S. Also, if'n ya could mention to the people who wear gloves, that their wearin' o' gloves isn't to keep, for instance what I watched today, the bakery worker from being contaminated by the bread she was touching, but to keep her from contaminating the bread, that would be great.  ...A lil' sumthin' I realized as I watched her use her gloved hand to put a bit of whatthefuckever bakery item in her mouth and then resume touching the loaves some unsuspecting customer is going to buy later today.  Uh...eeeeeeww! 


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Monday, April 4, 2011

~Word(s) To My Mother

Today is Mom's birthday.  I know, I know, everyone gets one, but let's face it, she's my mom and has had to put up with me for all of these years (so you already know she's a saint!).  And that certainly deserves a special day.  I'm wishing Mom a year filled with much love, joy, adventure, happiness and health, with all of my heart.  I'm also being thankful that of all of the mom's that could have been mine, I lucked out with her.  I love her more than she'll ever know.









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