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Month: April 2019

Less Famous Proverbs

Most of us in the English speaking world are familiar with the most famous proverbs: “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush”, “Too many cooks spoil the broth”, and “You can’t judge a book by it’s cover” are just a few I could mention.

However, my life experiences have not led me to a neat, tidy philosophy that is reflected in the most famous of our culture’s proverbs. I have careened through my life like an unattended fire hose and have come up with some proverbs of my own:

 


1. He who laughs last thinks slowest.

2. Everyone has a photographic memory; some just don’t have film.
3. A day without sunshine is like ….. night.
4. On the other hand, you have different fingers.
5. Change is inevitable except from a vending machine.
6. Those who are lost in thought frequently find themselves in very unfamiliar territory.
7. When the chips are down, the buffalo is empty.
8. Seen it all, done it all, can’t remember most of it.
9. Those who live by the sword get shot by those who don’t.
10. I feel like I’m diagonally parked in a parallel universe.
11. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be misquoted, then used against you.
12. I wonder how much deeper the ocean would be without sponges.
13. Honk if you love peace and quiet.
14. Despite the cost of living, have you noticed how it remains so popular?
15. Nothing is foolproof to a sufficiently talented fool.
16. It is hard to understand how a cemetery raised its burial cost and blamed it on the cost of living.
17. The 50-50-90 rule: Anytime you have a 50-50 chance of getting something right, there’s a 90% probability you’ll get it wrong.
18. It is said that if you line up all the cars in the world end to end, someone would be stupid enough to try and pass them.
19. You can’t have everything. Where would you put it?
20. Life is like being shot out of a cannon and flying over a beautiful garden towards a brick wall. You want to pick as many flowers as you can while you whoosh through the air and avoid accidentally grabbing a fistful of dog poop before you hit the bricks.

 

Flatware and Kate Spade Boots

Some of you may have heard of Marie Kondo…a lovely Japanese woman who’s taken the world by storm with her method to de-clutter your life. Now, I’m all for getting rid of stuff, but her method makes my head tilt and go “Hmmm…”

Marie thinks you should hold every item and ask if it gives you “joy” – if it doesn’t, you thank it, and put it in the discard pile. Joy over a pair of pajamas? Now if I stopped to thank every thing I want to toss, I’d be here for 50 years…and how does one actually determine if something gives you joy? My sterling flatware doesn’t give me joy, but there’s no way in hell I’m getting rid of it. 

So, I went in my closet and here’s what I found: a pair of black suede Kate Spade boots I have no recollection of buying, so that gave me great joy. Six pair of black pants, which to me is the perfect number to have. I found $52 in handbags that I went through and designated to donate….again, great joy! Seriously, I did gather a large amount to donate, but thanking each item? No, I was ripping through things hoping I’d find a gold bracelet or something I forgot I had.

Much like the cult of Oprah, women have embraced Marie Kondo with the enthusiasm of teenagers and the latest K-Pop band…they are introducing their children into culling their belongings (a good thing) by holding it and asking if it brings joy, which I personally find weird.

By the way, does this extend to husbands?

Ten Things You Need To Know About Me

Well, here I am, writing for WTF!

I have no idea why Sparky invited me: I’m a dude. I’m loud and obnoxious, I fart, scratch, spit, cuss, fight, drink, smoke, I like hanging out in garages, I will likely never have a pedicure and if my wife would let me, I would have fake boobs installed on my dashboard to give me something to play with while I am waiting at a stop light.

I promise not to track mud into this house, I won’t use the guest towels, and I won’t raid the fridge without asking, but there are some (absolutely TRUE) things you need to know about me:
1) I am confused by bells,
2) I naturally face magnetic North,
3) Due to persistent problems, I replaced my stomach with a wood chipper,
4) Both of my legs are hydraulic,
5) I see round out of one eye and square out of the other,
6) One of my nipples is a radio transmitter. The other nipple gets HBO,
7) I have a recurring dream involving Nancy Pelosi and a ham slicer,
8) My father invented curtains (look it up. I DARE you!),
9) My feet can be seen in High Definition,

10) Contrary to persistent rumors, Aliens from outer space do NOT beam messages directly to my brain.

They told me to say that.

A Midnight Snack With The Sparkster

Had bread and mozz cheese. Discovered a can of chicken noodle soup. Found a large can of Italian crushed tomatoes in the back of the cabinet that I can’t reach without a tall man or a stepladder. Aha! An unsuspecting can of okra, corn and tomatoes lurking back there as well.  Dislodged a large can of mushrooms from behind 3 large onions in the bin waiting for who knows what meal. Shit. No potatoes. Oh well.  There’s acres of pasta bought at Big Lots two years ago at 33 cents a box. Nectar of the gods commonly known as Tabasco Sauce. A jar of celery seed, Old Bay (not the after-shave), 7 cloves of garlic, a container of Parmesan cheese and a five pound bag of sugar.

Preparation:
In a large bowl…
Add tomatoes, chicken noodle soup, whole can of mushrooms, a chopped large onion, 6 garlic cloves, can of okra, corn and tomatoes, 2 cups water, 1/2 cup  Old Bay, 12 drops Tabasco, teaspoon of celery seed and 4 tbsp of sugar.
Top with a liberal shake of Parmesan cheese.
Microwave on high for 15 minutes or until ingredients run over.

Slap mozzarella and minced garlic on buttered bread, toast under broiler until cheese is bubbly or when smoke alarm goes off.

 

Bra Shopping Madness

 

We’ve covered such random subjects, like putting on Spanx and the trials of bathing suit shopping…so let’s cut to the chase and get to the one that every woman experiences: bra shopping. Now some women are lucky, nay, BLESSED enough to go to a rack, grab one in their size and go on their merry way. For others, it’s more complicated….much more complicated.

There are tee shirt bras, sports bras, push up bras, minimizer bras, plain ones, embellished ones, 2 hook vs 3 hooks, foam/lace/soft cups…it’s enough to make you sit on the floor and decide to go back to undershirts (now called camisoles.)

Enter The Fitter. A bra fitter is an employee of the store who has received her degree in boobology; that’s to say she can take one look at you and immediately know what size you are without measuring. She’s part witch, part lecturer, as she will scold you for wearing the wrong bra size!
What?! I’ve always worn a 34B. “You should be wearing a 36B, that’s why they hurt!” (and you just know she’s mentally saying “stupid cow.”)
The Fitter returns with an armload of bras for you to try on. Dear Lord, I just need a nude color bra for every day wear.
Next, you are told HOW to put a bra on…seriously. You are supposed to lean over slightly so your breasts “settle” into the cups, then once in place, you gently “adjust.”
After you find one and learn how to lean and place, you look at the price tag….and hit the floor again. Sixty-five dollars??? For my boobs???
Now this sounds all fine and good, but when you’re racing around in the morning, making coffee; feeding children, husbands, pets; making lunches; getting dressed, applying makeup, etc., having time to let your boobs fall into place isn’t something many women have time for.
More proof that God is male.

Filet Of Jockey Shorts

So… about the time my ex-husband came home from work to say, “Hmmmm, something smells gooood, what are we having tonight?”

Watching him gaze at the blue granite roasting pot on top of the stove with the most wistful expression on his face was one of the better highlights in my failed marriage of twelve years.

“What time we gonna eat?”

“In about an hour.”

“Damn, that smells so good, can’t I just taste it?”

“Sure! But it’s hot as hell.”

“I love your cooking, honey; I can’t wait!”, as he’s in the bedroom rustling through his underwear drawer.

“Where are my shorts? All my shorts are gone!”

“Hey, I’ve cooled this off enough for you to have a taste.”

I know women don’t boil their whites in a pot full of Clorox anymore, but do it just one time and you’ll remember it forever.