A day late, but with plenty of gravy …
A day late, but with plenty of gravy …
It was a wonderful weekend…lots of QT with the girls, a 90-minute massage, and tailgating with the hubby at the Texans game. It was perfect, except for two of the most disturbing incidents in my recent life.
Saturday morning, we wake up to Scarlett making silly sounds through the baby monitor.
Hubby: Good morning. I had a really nice dream about you last night.
Me: Really? Well I dreamed that I was having sex with Donald Trump. (I have no filter first thing in the morning.)
Me: I don’t know! But if it makes you feel any better, he had a really small penis.
Hubby: I could have guessed that.
Of course I spent the rest of the day trying to decipher my dream. I’m sure it goes without saying that I do not find him attractive. I hadn’t been talking about him or seen him on TV recently. So WTF?
Fast-forward to Sunday.
It was a gorgeous day…sunny, cool and slightly windy. We are out in the parking lot at Reliant Stadium tailgating before the game, and suddenly I have to go…like NOW. So I did what I never do…I used the port-o-potty.
I was taking care of my business when I felt something splash back UP onto my butt cheek. AHHHHH! NO! Not blue poo water on my butt cheek!! I had come armed with hand sanitizer and paper towels, but no amount of sanitizer on my cheek made it feel clean. In fact, I have never left more dirty. Ugh.
It was all I could think about for the next 3 hours. The hubby tried to calm me down, but all I could think about was that spot on my butt cheek and God only knows WHO’S poo water on it.
As soon as we got home, I stripped off my clothes and washed them in boiling hot water. Then I went straight to the shower where I washed that spot for about half an hour.
I can still feel the poo water on that cheek…I’ll never recover.
SO much WTF–ness today…
Would you ever be caught dead wearing these? I expect not. But that isn’t the WTF part.
Would you pay $299.94 for these ridiculous shoes (ON SALE, no less!)?
Look at these. I don’t care if they are Prada…and “on sale”…I am not paying $399.94 for a pair of shoes with a 1970s-era plastic yellow buckle.
These are the least expensive of the bunch at $199.94, probably because they are beach wear, but still…they look like something Mrs. Roper would wear with one of her muumuus.
These win the “WTF, are you f*cking kidding me?” Award. I am in no way thrifty, but I can’t believe someone would pay even $25 (much less $299.94) for this pair of floral print moccasins.
Death on a Platter
I know you will find this hard to believe, but the green stuff tasted even worse than it looks.
My favorite wine bar, Max’s Wine Dive, changed up their menu, and this was a new addition … “French escargot in honey bacon and sweet onion butter with hon shimeji mushroom, grilled crouton, and parsley foam.”
My friends and I were very excited to try it, and quite frankly, I wasn’t worried about the parsley foam because I have always lived under the assumption that parsley has no flavor.
I was so wrong. Parsley does have a flavor (especially in foam form) and it is called ASS. It was by far the worst thing I have put in my mouth in a very long time. In fact, it was so bad that I wiped off my tongue and did my best to quarantine the nastiness to one side of the plate.
What are we drinking?
According to this article … “bacteria, caffeine, the pain reliever acetaminophen, fertilizer, solvents, plastic-making chemicals and the radioactive element strontium.” WTF?
My main task at work over the past week has been responding to angry emails. Sometimes it’s nice, because I can change a person’s perspective and make them feel better about AIG, other times I get really nasty responses that make me feel like total crap.
The last email I read before leaving yesterday afternoon (to go buy a million dollar battery for the Range Rover) said something like “You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig. Your response is the lipstick, and your company is the pig!” Nice. And of course I can’t respond back with what I REALLY want to say, so I internalize all that crap and go on with my day.
When I got to the RR repair shop, I sat down and noticed this across the room.
How cute is that? I don’t know why, but seeing this table full of homemade goodies totally changed my mood. Binoculars made from toilet paper tubes…only 50 cents! How about a paper purse for two bucks? Need to brush up on your math? Take a quiz!
The owner’s daughter is 8 years old, and apparently she restocks her little “shop” quite often. And she’s made over $80 so far. How is that for being a little entrepreneur? So I bought a drawing of a butterfly and decided that Mr. Lipstick just needs a different perspective on things.
P.S. Thanks for taping the container up so well (like anyone is anxious to get inside there). Could you not have called someone to come pick up this poor dog in the same amount of time you spent “packaging” him?
WTF, Nabisco? Where is my other cracker? You have no idea how badly I needed that second cracker today. I haven’t eaten since Monday due to some killer stomach virus and when I was finally ready to chance it, and eat the yummy goodness that is Club crackers, there was only one.
So as you can probably tell by my irrational anger over a cracker, my family is a little on the edge. Poor Anabella came down with this vomiting thing on Monday and by Tuesday, Dan and I both had the same thing. Super Scarlett has managed to walk away unscathed…at least so far. Just look at my poor, pitiful Anabella waiting to get her medicine at the pharmacy. Can you believe Nabisco cheated her mommy out of a cracker?