Showing posts with label Surprise: New Things I've Tried. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Surprise: New Things I've Tried. Show all posts

Monday, August 8, 2016

~ Sew. This Is Happening.

I want to make this absolutely clear;  I do NOT know how to sew.

I can't read a pattern, or tell you what a dart* is.  I've never had an interest in sewing or a class.  In fact, I once had to throw away a dress because I couldn't get the two buttons I needed to reattach to do their fuckin' jobs appropriately.  As has been mentioned here before, I am not a hobby person (a weird ass 'n rambly post veering into the subjects of [naturally,] divorce and Tears For Fears).  I participate in no crafting of any sort.  Unless ya count that I paint my own nails every week or so. 

However, behold this fuckin' top I made:

JC Penney, are you seein' this *pay
attention to the pocket* action pose?

Honestly?  I don't even know what made me think I could sew sumthin'.  I suppose it was a combination of seeing clothes and just not being happy with some aspect;  ...I'd like the style hate the pattern or color.  Or, I kinda like that top, but I'd be totally sold if it had a square neckline.  And mostly, (because I don't like to carry a purse) 'I wish that dress had a damn pocket.'  One day I decided life is too short to not have things go your way, especially when you probably can do somethin' about that shit.  I figured if I could drive a vehicle and a forklift, I could drive a motherfucking sewing machine.  (A peddle and an engine is a peddle and an engine, rinse and repeat.)

Being one of those, if I put my mind to it, it's practically already done, sorts, I naturally started by making a potholder dress. 

I marched my ass to my local Jo-Ann store (Jo-Ann Store shout out.  BBGDisclosure:  They [nationwide] used to be my customer.  [Hi, JoanM!]  #AlwaysLoyal) picked a fabric that made me happy.  And it was on.  While I had zero experience, or even rudimentary knowledge, I set out on my, as I referred to it, figurin' it the fuck out 'science experiment' with the mindset of building (as opposed to sewing).  Building, putting things together, spatial orientations, how things work relative to the other pieces/components is how my mind is inclined, whether it be building somethin' tangible, or buildin' in the abstract and/or personal realm.   

  • That one time I decided I could build a table.  (Yea, bitches, a table.)
Wait.  Am I the Big Brown Mimi
(from the ol' Drew Carey Show)?
Once upon a time there was a dress that had become one of my faves.  It had a bow (as a closing mechanism on the shoulder).  It makes me feel like a present when I wear it.  What the fuck more could you ask from a garment?  I used it as a rough guideline, and ta-da:

(Pillowcase dress video)

Obviously, it's not a masterpiece of a frock.  Martha Stewart ain't gonna give me a medal or anything.  Hell.  It might fall apart tomorrow.  But I have a dress today, that I didn't have yesterday.  That I made with my own two damn hands, and the audacity to manage my life under the I-do-what-I-want rules   I feel festive in it.  And, admittedly, like a big ass toddler, which (Fact:) I, sadly don't feel as bad about as I should. (shrugs)   

Top attempt numero uno
The dress begat the notion that I could make a top too.  Once I created the top I remembered that if I hadn't have been a dumbass I would have made it with pockets.  Hence the black and white circle top, new and infuckingproved with pockets! 

The latest sewing miracle is this fine ass pair of jammy shorts.  (I don't wear pajama's for sleeping purposes, so due to my tooliteralism I don't feel right even calling 'em 'pajamas'.  I believe in bein' free when ya sleep.  Hotel, hospital and visiting others being the exceptions.)  I more, although probably less followed this [short video] recipe and sprinkled in some of my own personal tastes, like adding elastic and making the fanciful ruffling on the bottom of the leg. 

Who am I to think I can elastic?

Today's lesson?  Don't let the fact that you don't know how to do something keep you from
trying that shit. 

(BBGLegalDisclaimerThis helpful as hell tip does not apply to sword swallowing, fire eating, lion taming, running a band saw, or any other activity where an 'opps' would easily foreseeably result in death, hospitalization and/or legal action.  Bippity-boppity-boo.  I renounce culpability in any unfortunate events you may experience based on this recommendation.)  


* Dart
Don't say ya never learned
anything whilst visiting 'da World


Thursday, July 7, 2016

~ Dry Brushing

If you're not familiar with dry brushing, you're about to be...

I discovered the practice in this Buzzfeed story I stumbled on and read for, well, no real reason.  Now two things you should know;  1)  I have a terrible lotion ethic (how much so?  Enough that I wrote a post about it.  Lamenting Lotioning 5/15) and I probably only tried this because I already had the only item required.  Basically, if the effort level to try something is zero and it could produce an tangible goodness in my life, I'm willing to give it a whirl.

Now I'm the kid of two police officers;  I'm somewhat skeptical of pretty much everything I'm being led to believe.  While I don't live in Missouri I need to be shown, ya know?  Admittedly my expectation was low on this endeavor.  (...I'm sure this won't make any sorta reeeeeeal difference...)

I was promised soft skin. 

What I got?

Well.  The day after my second episode of dry brushin' I'd already recommended it to a friend.  (If you didn't check the link that I learned from) Here's the drill:
  • Get a brush like this:

  • Brush your limbs (apparently it's important to go from feet/hands up towards your heart.  Reason?  No fuckin' clue, I just followed the directions as they were laid out.)
  • Lotion post shower
  • Live your life and prepare to be consistently shocked by how impressive your epidermis feels

Fact:  Last night I woke up several times during the night.  Each time before getting back to sleep I found myself Jimminie Cricketing my legs together because the level of smoothness was that incredible. 

My friend, LEM's experience/feedback? 

If your skin is of the sensitive variety I wouldn't engage in dry brushing daily.  (I'm a 3x a week-er.) 

Soft 'n smooth skin (better circulation, blah, blah, blah) isn't the only benefit.  I'm one of those sticklers for stubble free gams.  It seems like I'm getting an extra day out of my leg shaving.  Even those last few shaves before it's about time to switch to a fresh blade. 

Dry Brushing:  Do.  It.

Dear Next Week You,
You're welcome.


Friday, January 13, 2012

~Gifts Of Booze & Friendship

The other day I swung into the booze store to buy some Grenadine (What can I say? I heart  Shirley Temple's [recipe].) when I noticed a display for Cotton Candy vodka. Being obfuckingsessed a lover of cotton candy, this interested me immensely, immediately.   It seemed like a wonderful and potentially horrible idea. One one hand, I can't imagine that's really going to be as good as I want it to be. And you can't really mix cotton candy vodka with, um anything.   At least nuthin' I can think of.   So it doesn't seem like a very practical addition to the BBGbar.

...But on the other hand, it's cotton candy flavored booze y'all! And let's face it there is absolutely no fuckin' way I can live a life knowing there's cotton candy hooch out there and not give it a whirl.

However, as would exactly be my luck, they were out of it. (a single 1970's Indian by a trashy road tear sloooooowly drops down a BBG cheek)

However squared, as would be exactly my luck I returned to BBG HQ to discover this:


It's sadly not everyday you return home to find a gift of booze.  Now the freaky deaky thing about it is that it magically arrived at the hand of one of my great joys in life, a friend. I'd love to tell you which friend, alas at BBGWorld press time I actually don't know who the responsible Slim Shady party is.

But I know it's someone either on this exchange or someone who saw this crazy ass conversation:

(Who knew there were soooo many flavorful boozy options? 
Apparently, everyone but me.)

As you know, I love, love, love to bitch and complain another joy in my life about random shit, but I also try to be cognizant and aware of the good stuff too.

And some of the best 'stuff' I have are my friends. Of course because I am self centered me I believe this is because I do such a good job picking friends. (Which is probably one of those things people shouldn't say out loud. ...Oh well, you're not exactly here for should's n' shit.  At best this is a place of keepin' it realsies.  At worst a comprehensive cautionary tale of shouldn'ts.   Should's and perfect's are on some other blog, good luck.)   It's why almost all of my friends like my other friends. I only really roll with cool ass, good people.

Update: Cotton Candy vodka is AWWWWWWWESOME!!

(If things start to get slurry up in here you'll understand, right?)

So an Open Letter to my friends~

(And no, I'm not really tipsy and gettin' all mushy. I've only had one shot and you know a BBG can hold her booze better than that.)

As you know, I make a pretty big distinction between friends and acquaintances. Acquaintances are fun to be around. But a friend, while fun to be around is something to be valued. Some of you I talk to daily. Some of you are I see far too infrequently. Regardless, you are my friend because you add to my life. You bring me laughter, comfort and crazy ass stories apparently booze. You've been generous of heart and spirit or offered some kindness, grand or small that I treasure. Don't get me wrong, if one of you wins the lotto and wants to make a substantial monetary gift to BBG Inc, by alllllll fuckin' means.   But the reality is that some of the words you've spoken, words you probably never thought twice about, have been true gifts to me. That some of the most minuscule interactions and random times we've have together are shining little stars in the night sky to me. They're beautiful and sumthin' to be appreciated.

I don't say it often enough to any of you, well, because, look how fuckin' awkward I am at it--  even with time to think before some crazy confluence of words comes tumblin' outta my mouth, but for the official record:
  • I care about and love you.
  • That doesn't mean I think you're perfect. Some of you are asses (Jorge Estrada, Evil E, Jeffery Dahmer, Potatohead, etc.), but I care about and love you anyway. Trust me, I'm fully aware that you all take the same approach with me. (Again, just keepin' it real.)
  • I think of you more often than you know. In fact, the other night whilst hangin' in the hot tub I spied a shooting star. My wish was healthy and happy for my peeps. (I always feel like a self wish is greedy.) 'I did B with X so-and-so' or 'X reminds me of [insert friend name here]' is a daily occurrence to me.
  • You are important to me.
  • I wish we hung out more.
  • I appreciate you just the way you are.
Oh yeah, and...

(Not a big fan, but how could I not toss the song in?!?)

In other random acts of recent kindness, I also received some sunshine this week.  I'm more blessed with good eggs in my life than I have a right to.

While it ain't a gift of booze deeelightful, delicious, debauchery inducing booze I hope knowing that I value you gives you a wee buzz. 

Be good my peeps (that includes to yourself).

(Glass selected because it made me feel like a giant.)

Cheers, my friends!
(& Thank you to my mystery booze bringer!)

P.S.  Haaaaappy Birthday Lupe Estrada!


Friday, December 30, 2011

~Fuck You, 2011

Here we are again, tick-tocking down the last few hours and minutes of another year that is about to officially become history.  And that makes it officially time to say; Fuck You '11

I don't want to seem disrespectful of the year.  Plenty of nice and lovely stuff happened this year.  Trust me, I am fully aware every day how much I have to be thankful for.  The blessings (big and small) in my life are, frankly, more than I deserve.  But there have also been a plethora of super shitastic things, that I for one, could have done without, thank you very much.  

Each year I like to do a lil' mental round up of what the year brought me as I prep for the new things a new year will bestow upon me.  Here, for the official BBG record are some of the high and low lights of 2011:

~Ing's.  This has been the year of the 'ing(s)'.  From jeggings, to planking (which begat owling, that begat  horsemaningTebowing and batmaning;)

~Thanks to AnonD, I learned how to make the worlds best kick ass chocolate chip cookies.  (Recipe)  Because I helped, I earned a new title, 'The Primary Whisker'.  Opps!  Am I cracking a code?  If we're bein' honest, it probably shoulda been the primary eater.

~A local 'feel good' story unfolded (and then quickly disintegrated) with the discovery of the golden voice, Ted Williams who found momentary national fame for morphing from an addiction riddled homeless beggar to the voice of a Kraft Mac and Cheese spot aired during the Super Bowl.  ...And then just as quickly from the voice of creamy cheezy goodness to an addiction riddled, 'what ever happened to' cautionary tale?

~In other local ta-doin's, this is the year I had to hear the news announce that some schools would be closed not for snow, (ice, heat, fog, wind chill too low <-- all of which have happened in my lifetime), no, for wild animals roaming.  Lions, tigers and bears, free ranging due to a unstable individual making bad choices.  (56 exotic animals on the loose)

~I was rreminded how many people love me, in big ways and small. And all I can say is, WOW!   And, of course, THANK YOU.  And I know that I am a colossal pain in the ass.

~2011 opened my palate to several new things:  1st Fruity Pebbles.  (Love them!)  Nonpareils.  (Hated 'em.)  Shamrock shake.  (Severely disappointed by Ronald's offering.)  Wheatgrass.  (Wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.  Sweeter than expected.)  Quinoa.  (Really surprisingly liked it.)  Silk milk.  (Thumbs down.)  Hostess Pudding Pie (I thought it would be flaky goodness.  It was not.)  Pomegranate juice.  (It tasted like if a grape and a blueberry had a baby.)  Whole wheat pasta.  (I'd rather eat actual dried and hardened glue strips.)  And Chik 'N.  (While not bad, soy based connective tissue is kinda creepy.)

(We can make soy based mock connective tissue,
but still no wayback machine?!?)

~Yet again, I remain flabbergasted and saddened that science and technology haven't been able to invent a 'wayback machine'. 

~Got my heart brrrrrrrrroken.

~Got my revenge and made a new friend.

~Engaged in a lotta schadenfreude. Mainly at the expense of one of Virginia's newest residents. The score since he's been there? One earthquake. One hurricane. One super early ass and quite unusual winter storm warning in October. Free range zebras roaming the streets. ...It ain't a plague of locust, but none of that seems like a good sign.  It's called karma, asshole. Enjoy it. I sure as fuck am.   Good luck, Virginia.

~I heard 9,9,9, more frequently than a week long Hitlerathon on the History Channel.  Farewell, pizza man Herman Cain. 

~The BBGWorld hit 10,000 visitors.

~Finally, 2011 offered an option for when you can't decided if candy or booze is the answer.  Or perhaps when you're ready to make the step of gettin' lit at your cubicle.  That's right, kidz, vodka gummies.

(Health nuts should probably use vitamin gummies.)

~My first gray eyebrow hair. 

Dear 1 Gray Eyebrow Hair~
I accept that you are here as a reminder that I'm gettin' old (& that I'm STILL ALIVE). In theory I am happy to let you live and share my face with you. Frankly, I find your single whiteness randomly interesting, however you seem to insist on bein' all helter skelter and incapable of not pokin' out and pointing skyward, and I'm not ok with bein' Andy Rooney. *Pluck!!*

~We became the home of World's Biggest Meatball (Finally.  Last years BBG eyewitness account of the near miss)

~Dodged the rapture twice this year (May 21st and October 21st).  So thank you Harold Camping and your predictions of the end of days for teaching me I just might be invincible.  Or that I am part of the 'left behind' (at least I'm in good company, I mean, you're here too.)

~Nana became tech savvy.  Ok, that might be an overstatement of the situation.  Nana has made some semblance of peace with the laptop.  Watching a DVD is out (it took all of 3 minutes and one ejection and putting it back in to determine that this wasn't happenin'), but she can Google, email and read her local paper. 

~NASA provided me with an escape hatch from some of the assholes roaming this place.  Helloooooooo Kepler22b!

~Uncle John tried to kill me.

~This is the year someone tried to tell me how to run my blog.  (...Guess what's never gonna happen?  Bueller?...)

~michigan won.

~We learned the names Casey Anthony, Rebecca Black and Jerry Sandusky. 

~I learned of the magical existence of natatoriums.

~For the first time ever I lost a nail.  Completely down to the bed.  (In happy nail news:  Thankfully a new one replaced it.)

~Continued to be stalked and amazed by the existence and seemingly popularity of by pink rides:

(Why would a person do this?)

~Ponytail'd men, for the 3rd year in a row continued to cross my path:
    (Engaging in some St. Pat's ponytail pullin')

~Got some new lives to corrupt in Eden, Sammy and Asher.  Congrats to Mrs. Steven Tyler kissed my ass (<-- really, I've seen pictures) and her hubby K1.  Two kids have never been so wanted, or will be so cherished.  And haaaaappy 1st boy congrats to Lupe & Jorge.  Those are some lucky ass kids.

~Gone too soon...

A pioneer in how women deal with breast cancer.  Before Betty Ford they were words that were whispered.  After Betty Ford it became something that was fought.  Betty Ford was also the catalyst behind Amy Winehouse's biggest hit and getting many of a celeb clean and sober.  

Heavy D. 

...Now what will we do?  RIP Heavy D.

Smokin' Joe Frazier. 

I once met 1/2 of the Thrilla in Manila duo (Ali being the other, for you non sweet science followin' peeps) at some black tie fundraiser shin dig.  It was well after his boxing days, more the heyday of his BBQ days.  He seemed nice.  I mean, as long as I smiled, giggled and nodded in agreement, at least.  Honestly, I never understood a word he said.  The "discussion" made a strong case for headgear in the ring.

We lost Charles Napier this year.  A name you might not recognize, but Silence of the Lamb's fans will never forget.

And Oprah, who while still alive did leave the airwaves this year.

As I put in a Facebook update:  Well Oprah, you did many things over the past 25 years...built a school, got Tom Cruise to jump on a sofa, gave away some cars, introduced the world to a Phil and an Oz, birthed book clubs, carried fat in a wagon, but ya never could get Nana to stop callin' you Ofrah.   

So good bye year.  

Baby New Year, I'm ready for all of your 2012 goodness, bring it.

Dear 2011,
I'm out.

Haaaaaappy New Year!!


Monday, May 2, 2011

~A Day In Review: Saturday

Uncle John and I hung out with AnonD, her hubby R and their 3 chocolate labs Saturday.  It was a day of firsts, some gardening, some mockery and some old treasures revisited.  Here's what happened:
  • I tried some pomegranate liquid.  It tasted like if a grape and a blueberry had a baby.
(Also test drove this purple nail polish.)
  • I decided, once I saw this:
That their wackadoo neighbor was 100% probably dead in her home.  I couldn't fathom any other reason that a single lady's fence to her heavily wooded back yard would be open.    AnonD mocked and attributed to my Po-po parents that I immediately, so naturally decided that they now lived next door to a dead body solely based on an open fence.  I am very aware of my surroundings.

It turns out that their weirdo neighbor chick is still alive.  And still lookin' a hot mess.  I swear, I don't know why that lady insists on introducing herself to the world everyday lookin' that bad.  I've always suspected she owns several too many cats and doilies.  I donno.  I was relieved to see her pull out of her driveway later in the day, as was R, who by now I had convinced that house next door would soon be available.  (Sorry, R.)

  • For the first time ever I planted bulbs.
I didn't hate it. But I'm probably never gonna plant any bulbs 'round these parts. Although, I can't wait to see what they become at AnonD's

  • AnonD and I frightened a child.
Because my head is always on the swivel, I noticed some kid rounding the corner down yonder walking door to door.  (I'm on everything in my parameter, people.)  I showed the kid to AnonD as we were about to go inside, we decided to stay outside so that kid didn't have to have the livin' shit scared outta him when 250lbs of chocolate lab came to the door to say helloooooo.  All d oh double g's are really well behaved, but let's face it, lotza people are afraid of large dogs.  So because we're some fuckin' nice ass people instead, we stood in the yard chattin' as girls do.  This kid, maybe 14ish.  Goes to each and every house on our side of the street.  Knocks on the house next door, comes down the driveway 4' from where we stand...and starts to walk the fuck across the street.  Really.  Reeally?!? 

So if you know me, you know I'm not havin' that

I sez to the kid, "are you sellin' sumthin'?  Or..." as I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.   He tentatively comes back towards us and tells us he's going around with his dad who is painting addresses on the curbs for a donation, or whatever ya feel like paying.  As AnonD and R are already set up, she declined.  But the kid, once he decided we weren't going to lure him into the house with breadcrumbs and put him in the oven, he was very polite.  A trait not as common place as it should be with kids these days (...wait, whaaaaat?  Am I officially old enough to turn a "kids these days" phrase?  Fuck.  Damn you cold hard truth!)

I don't know about you, but I like to do what I can to promote good behavior out of kids.  I'm just tryin' to be a good villager, ya know?  So as he walked away I said loud enough that he could hear how polite he was.  I think it's good for kids to hear. 

After taking a wee break once we returned to the great outdoors I saw the dad walking/painting.  As he walked on the other side of the street I found myself wanting to say something to him.  But, because I'm o-l-d (remember the "kids these days" incident?), and couldn't reeeeeally see his face, I couldn't decide if I should "sir" him, or "dude" him  (Ok, so I never say duuuuuude.  Honestly, I'm more of a "hey mister" or "excuse me" type.  Anyhoo...), I somehow ended up giving him the 'come here' finger waggle.  Go bless the finger waggle.  Works every time.  He started across the street and I asked if he was that kid's father and he said he was and then I told him how mannerable he had been.  Again, just 'cause you're a grown up doesn't mean you don't deserve a little acknowledgement of your good work too, right?
  • Uncle John supervised our work:

  • I saw this beautiful butterfly:

  • I was the operator of a wheelbarrow for the first time!  I really kinda liked it.
Honestly, until just a few years ago, I thought it was a wheelbarrel.  (so much for that great Catholic school education, huh?  They also didn't teach me what a foundry is.  On the other hand the sheriff still talks about how cute I was in my "Catholic schoolgirl uniform", so there's that.  --And yes, that does kinda creep me out to hear.)  I was shocked to discover it was a barrow.  None the less, there I am mastering it.  Whoo-hoo!  ...And being once again mocked that I have multiple sets of latex gloves in my car, "just in case".  AnonD asked, in case of what?  Fine.  Really I donno.  But if I ever roll up on some accident at least I won't be too afraid of contamination to do something, so suck it! all you people who'll have to let some stranger bleed out rather than get your hands covered in their bio hazmat juice.  (If I'd had a penis, apparently, I would have made a fanfuckin'tastic Boy Scout.  I am prepared for any glove necessary emergency.  Latex merit badge please.)

  • I indulged in a lil' sumthin' sumthin' I hadn't had in forever.  I'm not sure how the subject came up but next thing I know we're talkin' about Shirley Temples and AnonD is saying words like, "we have everything needed". 

They were soooo good!  Yes, that's right, "they".  You don't really think I just had one do ya?  The count ended up being 4.  And I was seriously considering purchasing Grenadine and 7-Up/Sprite for my own personal home gorging usage.  Then I caught a glimpse of the back of the Grenadine label, which listed it's first ingredient as high fructose corn syrup.  Even a BBG knows I probably shouldn't invite another opportunity for added high fructose corn syrup consumption into my body, or home.  Yep.  Look at me wearin' my big girl panties.   See.  It's not alllll ridiculous-ness.  Sometimes there's a modicum of pragmatism.

Fine.  It is mostly ridiculousness.


Tuesday, March 8, 2011

~First (& Last) Shamrock Shake

That's right, I woke up yesterday morning and for some unknown reason, I decided that it was the day I was gonna try my first Shamrock shake. 

I even alerted  my FB peeps of my impending plans.  (I don't know why people complain about the minutiae people put on their FB status?!?... hehehe

So at some point I hauled my fat ass over to McD's. 

I ordered. 

I sat in the drive thru line realizing that I didn't even know what flavor a Shamrock shake was.    I decided probably mint or pistachio and awaited in anticipation the serving of the magical and storied Shaaaaaaaaamrock shake. 

...And then I took a sip. 

I immediately did not care for it.

Turns out (spoiler alert!!), it's some weak ass, creepy mint chocolate chip shake-- without the chocolate chips, and really now?  Isn't that what makes mint anything a good combination?!?  Thin Mints aren't just minty.  They're chocolate-y.  Junior Mints?  Again, chocolate.  It is the key.  And in my opinion, a sadly lacking component of the Shamrock shake. 

Double D came in shortly after my newest food experience.  I asked if he'd ever had one and he said no.  (We really are freaks who deserve each other....)  So, of course, I forced my Shamrock shake on him.  He knows me long enough to know that just sometimes it's just easier and better to go the fuck along, rather than try to fight (or reason) with my BBG mind.  The look on his face after his sip was the same face I suspect I made as I tried it. 

So, Shamrock shake verdict? 

Hated it. 

Glad I tried sumthin' new.  Check.

Oh?  Exactly how much did I dislike my experience?  I only really consumed the wh-h-h-h-h-h-ip cream and the cherry on top.  After one more confirmation sip of the sake I had to have a Pringle palate cleanser.  Yep.  Ronald let me down.


Wednesday, February 23, 2011

~It's A New Food Review

I spied this in the grocery a few weeks back:

I didn't know this even existed as a snacking option.  I've always wanted to try one of these pie pocket dealies, but my aversion to apple, cherry, blueberry, etc., gelatinous goo has held me back. 

But puddin'?  Chocolate puddin?!?  Hellz yeah. 

I was hoping to find a tasty, flaky crusted treat.  In all honesty, I didn't love it.  But another sumthin' new to add to my list.

...And because this song was on my mind (for no apparent reason):


Thursday, September 30, 2010

~New Stuff

I like to try new stuff. Pretty much any time and always. I like knowing that even if I don't like it that I'm checkin' sumthin' off my life list of 'Did I?...' An adventure big or small is always welcome in my life.

Here are a few new things that I've tried or that have happened of late:

-Bubble Tea
I'd seen it forever ago on the Food Network. Bubble Tea is a big thing in Japan, (for LEM: Ja PAN!!) and I'm sure other places, but hey, this is fuckin' Ohio and it takes a while for new fads to hit our shores sometimes. Honestly, I can remember thinkin' that's probably not for me. It's flavored tea with tapioca balls (yep, I said tapioca balls) which settle on the bottom. Apparently you can even get a Bubble Smoothie made with your choice of flavors and froyo.

I chose the traditional tea. I selected honey as my flavor (yeah, I wasn't very adventurous in my pickin's, but I thought pickin' a combination I liked would be the best jumping off point).

...Yeah, I didn't think you could see the gelatinous orbs corralled on the bottom of my drink either...
...You'rrrrrrre welcome!

They were like having extra squishy gummy bears in your drink. If that sounds appealing to you, you'll probably like it. If not, at some point you'll probably end up using them as big, fun spit balls, as I eventually did, much to Double D's dismay and horror.

...Through the car window onto the pavement. Kkkkkkklassy, no? Scads of fun? YES!

-New Light
One evening as Double D and I were hanging out before dinner, I mentioned that I had a project for his To-Do List. The upstairs bathroom light which I had grown to hate. HATE! Was down to two working bulbs. Back when the first bulb in the ol' school hollywood light strip went out I had decided that I was not replacing bulbs, but that the fixture itself would be changed. ...So I say, so it shall be!!... I had owned the new fixture for several, several months and these bulbs were my line in the sand. Enough was efuckin'nuff. I didn't mention any specific time frame for this project, other than that there were only 2 bulbs working and it needed to be done before we ended up brushing our teeth in the dark.

As I started dinner, (some craptastic hodge podge of nourishment of epic proportions, I'm sure.), I heard Double D head up stairs and the tinkering began!

...Let there be light!!!

I patched and painted.

-Met The Ex
I've dated divorced guys before. And certainly even previous other never married guys have had ex's. But for the first time ever I had to meet the ex-wife. I must admit, I was minorly nervous. Not like scared outta my mind, but kind of, 'well, this is new'... Double D's youngest and only girl turned 18 that day and we were attending her birthday party while she was home from college at her mom's house.
No chance for awkward there...

I'm happy to report all was perfectly fine. She was polite and welcoming of me into her home. We had a nice chat about their kids and how I'd had the pleasure of meeting them all and that they are great kids. I told her I knew that no matter what the circumstance, having parents dating is difficult on kids, even mostly grown ass kids. (I left the "grown ass" part out. Look at me showing restraint and being appropriate!!) And that they had been nuthin' but respectful and polite and that I felt that was a sign of good parenting. I know how easy it is to be a brat of a child in those situations, which is not the sign of poor parenting on my folks parts. Trust me, I was waaaaay more of a hand full and force to be reckoned with, as a singleton, than the Octomom has to deal with with her cumulative 14.

At some point Ex/Mom was taking pictures of the festivities and said, "you two get together and I'll take your picture." As soon as those words popped outta her mouth I knew what that scoop was about. I know that pic is being pulled up and shown each time she's recounted the story of Double D's new girlie comin' for a visit. I know because even in the split second that this took place, I realized that I'd have done the exxxxact same fuckin' thing.
And ya know, I gotta respect that. You go girl! Wait. Did I just say "you go girl"? Ugh. Er, I mean, props toots, props.

After a very pretty DQ ice cream cake, Double D, his now legal (she bought a lottery ticket that day, and was carded for it) daughter and I set off to return her to campus about 2 hours away.

-The Case of the Basket
On our journey I spied sumthin' I knew existed, but had never actually laid my peepers on, behold:

The Longaberger Basket building. 7 stories tall. Just in the middle of nuthin'. Fields and farmland and then boom! Big ass basket. I've heard that a small plane can fly under the handle. So there's that. Way to keep it interesting Ohio!
The sun came up today. Ok, not reeeeally, it's pretty fuckin' cloudy and gray, honestly, but my peepers did pop open today so I'm hopin' for sumthin' new to present itself, but you're pretty much caught up for now.
Happy Damn Thursday to you! You may now resume your day.


Monday, August 2, 2010

~My 2nd Ever Trip To The Fair

I went to the fair once. That was a gazillion years ago, with LEM & her hubby, Evil E. I never went back, so there, theeeeeere's the level of my interest in the fair. Now, you know I'm totally diggin' Double D if I'm all like, "yeaaaaaah, I'm goin' to the fair with ya!"

And while that is very much true, he also made the offer appealing to me by presenting the opportunity for blood shed and cotton candy. I gotta give it to him, he knows the audience he's workin' with. Plus, the morning we were going, I saw a story on the local AM news and spied these kids runnin' around with a, well, what I called, a Chiquita crown. Which apparently, I say wrong because Double D had nooooooo idea what I was sayin' as I said it. I'm all like, a crown, a crown!!-- now making a placing a crown on my head like gesture before he understood. Evidently, a Chiquita 'crayon' didn't seem sensical to him when I was sayin' it...

I knew I had to have one of those atop my dome!

I think you know, I did.

And you, of course, know I made Double D don one too.

File under: Yep, somebody's a good sport.

Other wanderings brought me the adventure of the State Troopers fake drunk, fake FST. Awesome. I'm in. First the Trooper makes you walk a line of tape on the floor, heel to toe. Honestly, who am I kiddin' here? I'm supremely klutzy. Practically every week I discover some bruise that I can no more explain than I can explain quantum physics, so just the stone cold sober walkin' o' the line was probably a bit sketchy to begin with. But then they put these drunk goggles on ya that distort your sight to what must be a 0.666 level. They were crazy. So as any one like me would do, I managed to set my toe on the start of the line and then I looked straight ahead and just heel toe'd it the best I could. The other people tryin' were looking at the line and gettin' all kindz a fucked up as they tried to stay on the line. While I prided myself on being a pretty good and crafty fake drunk walker, Double D accused me of cheating. Trooper said walk the line, Trooper didn't say look at the line. Cheatin' or being smart? You be the judge.

(Me, gettin' all Johnny Cash wit it and walkin' the line, baby!)

(See what happened when you tried to look at the line?!?)

There were a lot of, well, I don't know how to say it other than to say it, an overabundance of short armed people there. Do they have Salute to Short Armed Individuals day at the fair? I easily saw 5 people with teeny tiny appendages with varying degrees of fingers. There. Again, I don't know what else to say, I'm just reportin' the Fair experience...

The Fair also taught me how indiscriminately and inappropriately people choose to tat themselves up. It's not like I'm morally opposed to tattooing. I don't have one, but to each their own. Q: What the fuck do I care? A: I do not. But I saw some things that were the epitome of 'well, that's bad idea'. Bad ideas in bad places on bad bodies. People, I implore you-- think before you ink!

The potential blood shed was in the form of boxing. I enjoyed it, it seems when you don't know the person boxing, it's far more fun to watch as people get jabbed and hooked.

While I had a good time watching boxing, it did create a, 'he's on my list' moment. It was the James Buster Douglas boxing doohickey, but you know who wasn't there on the final day? Yeah, that's right, Buster Douglas. Really? It's your event and you're no where to be found so that I could take my picture with you? Pfffffft... He's now on my list and I'm now holding a grudge against Buster. I imagine this news makes him quake in his shoes.

I also had a chance to see the butter cow. 2,000 lbs o' butter.

I certainly don't know, but I like to think a merry band of people holding warm crusty rolls and/or cob's o' corn line up at the end of the fair to "dispose" of the butter cow. It only seems right, like the proper way for it to fulfill it's buttery bovine destiny.

My very 1st ever deep fried Snickers:

It was tasty. I can't say I'd go outta my way to get one, but I enjoyed it. At least I can check off my list of To-Do: 'eat sumthin' weird deep fried'. Check.

In addition to some of the people I share my state with, perhaps the strangest thing I saw was this:

What is it? Well, I believe the old adage of, 'fuck if I know', applies here. Double D asked the woman manning the booth, who was apparently selling some sorta book. About what? We could not precisely ascertain. Double D kept trying to make sense of the words forming in her mouth, but I quickly went to the, "oh, I gotta get this for my what the fuck file" place in my mind and started clickin' away. You're welcome.

Thank you Ohio State Fair, for a very interesting and entertaining day of people watchin', nutritionally sketchy eatin' and short armed appreciation. It was indeed a freaky (or perhaps, freak laden) deeeelight. See you again some day.

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