It’s My Pajama Party And I Cry If I Want To

This is no secret: I love pajamas. I mean, REALLY love pajamas. If I didn’t care about winding up on the People of Walmart site, I would wear them everywhere. Cotton, flannel, modal, fleece….. love them all. I do have my favorites, but they don’t seem to care. They are patient, awaiting their turn to be donned and appreciated.


Yes, those are wine bottles and glasses on the PJs. Don’t judge me. Anyway, one thing I have noticed is my overabundance of PJs. They are the one item of clothing I seem to overlook when cleaning out my closet and dresser. Ok…. I overlook it because I can’t bear to part with them. But when you are digging around for a set to wear, and find the sets from high school still in the drawer… you know it is time.

So today I will knuckle down, grab a box of tissues, and start to cull the PJ herd. It will hurt. Some of those babies have been my besties through the worst of times, and the best of times. There’s the set that spent time with me in isolation at the hospital, and the set that saw me through the next door neighbor’s fire, and the set that was with me when my brother was born….

He will be 33 this year.

I said don’t judge me!

I better go rip this Band-Aid™ off before I end up crying my eyes out in a pile of PJs like a crazy woma– never mind. It’s too late and y’all know better😉

Turquoise Dresses….So Exciting!!!

As I live and breathe, I will never understand the evul that women do.

Sitting at the airport, I had the opportunity to be roped into a rather unconventional conversation. I was sitting there, minding my own business, when two lawyers begin to talk about upcoming nuptials. At first I thought they were talking about marrying each other, but no, one has a niece getting married and has been trying to talk sense into her to reign in expenses. From what I understood, the young woman wanted to have swans waddling around the reception area and a cake designed by Duff Goldman.

I’m pretty sure she watched Father of the Bride, and paid no attention to Steve Martin.

I smiled to myself, thinking of the havoc the swans would unleash on poor, unsuspecting guests, when the lady lawyer turned to me and asked out of the blue what I thought about spending several hundred dollars on a bridesmaid gown. I choked on my coffee and said, “Excuse me?”, which in turn released a floodgate of drama. The gal in question wanted her bridesmaids to wear gowns by Badgley Mischka, and shoes to match. I gaped at her. Badgley Mischka??? Number 24 on my List of Things to Do Before I Die is “Own a pair of Badgley Mischka shoes”. It’s on the list FOR A REASON!! (Oddly, on my List of 100, four of them involve shoes:#12- Louboutins, #24- Badgley Mischkas, #38- own a pair made by Daniel Day Lewis, and #87- own maroon Converse All-Stars. That’s the only shoe item I have thus far achieved scratching off my list). For those that are fashion unconscious, Badgley Mischka is a design house famous for their wedding and evening gowns. And by that, I mean one of their gowns can go for five figures. The shoes tend to be far more affordable, in the $300-600 range. So for this gal to ask her attendants to spend over four figures on a bridesmaid gown and shoes is a bit extravagant. Trying to quell the ire of the lady, I did mention that at least the gown could be used again for formal occasions, but then the gentleman lawyer broke in with the most important observation ever:

If women hate being caught in public in the same outfit, why would you subject your attendants to the same fate?

Now, that’s pure genius right there. Personally speaking, if I spy someone wearing the same outfit I am, I see it as a reflection of good taste, not a reason to freak out and hide and wonder if it’s not too late to go home and don a sack cloth. I understand the reason for that tradition (dress similar to confuse evil spirits), but it hardly fits in this day and age. I was a bridesmaid fifteen times, and with two exceptions, the dresses made me look like I was sticking out of the frosting on a cupcake. And every time we attendants absolutely and unequivocally loathed them. If I didn’t know any better, I would say the brides made us wear those ridiculous tulle-tufted, pastel-colored, stiff-necked, bouffant-sleeved taffeta atrocities because they hated us. I much prefer the more relaxed convention some brides take now, letting the bridesmaids choose any gown as long as it is in a specific color or style. This way the attendants can stand out and still be a recognizable group without being clones. It also lets the attendants stay within their own budget, and not at the mercy of a bridezilla whose only thought is to have people comment about her extravagant princess fantasy. A word of advice to would-be bridesmaids: always ask what the bride plans for your dress, and don’t be afraid to give her input. She is your friend, and she will pay attention to make sure the day is good for everyone.

Unless she hates you. Then get ready to look like a turquoise cupcake😉

I’m a Movie Heretic, Not a Critic

I take pride in that. It came about as a result of working for a movie store back in the 90’s. We used to get the most obscure, random movies to stock, so I took the time to learn about them. In the course of “research”, I found I had a unique taste for the random and obscure. But I also discovered that popularity of certain celluloid art made them less…palatable to me. The more popular a film, the less likely I was to find interest in it. This didn’t apply to cinematic masterpieces such as Gone With the Wind, The Wizard of Oz, The Ten Commandments, Ben Hur, A Streetcar Named Desire, anything by Hitchcock, etc. Even more modern fare like Silence of the Lambs was fine. But there is a limit for me. Some things I will never bother watching.

Probably the one movie above all others that I will never watch is Top Gun. No, I am not sorry. From what I have seen online and in trailers and accounts, “Maverick” is a total jackass. I don’t care that he finds humility at the end of the flick. I don’t wish to see Navy pilots portrayed in such a manner. My dislike of Tom Cruise is but icing on that cake. If the role were played by Bruce Willis, I still wouldn’t watch it.

And y’all know how I feel about Bruce Willis.

And that’s not the only movie that’s off my list. I will never see Pretty in Pink, my love of John Hughes notwithstanding. I’m pretty done with Marvel and DC Comics films, too. The only exception I would make to those is Deadpool. And no Nicholas Sparks films, either. He wrote one book, and now just changes the title. But give me an odd movie and I am THERE. Who can possibly pass up the chance to see Manos:The Hands of Fate, or even Birdemic? One of my favorite sleeper movies probably has the record for the longest title: The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill, But Came Down a Mountain. It’s the story of two cartographers tasked to determine whether Wales’ highest peak is a mountain. When it falls short, the villagers begin to build it up, bucket by bucket. It’s based on a true story and honestly the film doesn’t do the screwball happenings justice.

And what are your picks for celluloid waste?😉

How I Stopped Fretting, and Learned to Love the MRI

Yesterday was a fun day for me. And by “fun”, I mean at least I didn’t cry.

Full disclosure: I have back issues. Last January, I managed to do something that aggravated my lower back, specifically my lumbar region (I was born with fused vertebrae in the lumbar region). I was in pain for a few days, and after it lessened, I discovered that my lower back now liked to crack like it was Knuckles Malone. My back now hurts more periodically than it used to, specifically when I bend or sleep in an awkward position. So, I made an appointment with my provider to be seen. He suggested I take a steroid (NO!), ibuprofen (CANDY!), and Lidocaine patch (…..wut?). I will say that patch does relieve the pain rather nicely. He also scheduled me for a back X-ray and…an MRI.

Sigh…. I am not a fan of certain enclosed spaces. I can hide in a closet just fine, but can’t wear a scuba mask. I knew there was a chance I could get the open MRI is there was no wait list. I called, begged, pleaded, and finally they told me they could fit me in.

In August.

That wasn’t going to work, so I chucked it up and made the appointment for the old-fashioned tunnel of despair. And so it began.

I get there with plenty of time to check in, only to be told they are running 30 minutes behind. No worries, that just gives me time to breathe deeply and not freak out. In what seemed like a few seconds but was actually 35 minutes, I was escorted out to the dressing area and asked questions about my affinity for metal. I told them I get my metal from Sirius XM. Satisfied, I am instructed to get into scrubs ten sizes too big and wait in the lounge area. Sooner than later, they walk me back to the gallows MRI. It looks like a tunnel to nowhere. I am given earplugs and a button to press in case I have issues with the procedure. As I lay down, I ask if I can have a bolster for my back, as I can’t lay straight without a considerable amount of pain. They tell me sorry, but no can do since that’s the area they need to scan. Fine….FINE!! They slide me inside the coffin, and the scanning begins.

BANG BANG BANG!!!! Sounds like some kid is hitting the outside of the machine with a hammer. I concentrate on counting the holes in the speaker so as to distract me from the fact that I am now a sardine. All goes quiet, and then I begin to pray my thanks to the Almighty God for the earplugs, because it begins to sound like my head is inside a semi truck’s engine while the trucker is blasting his horn.

Meanwhile, my back is beginning to let me know she is about to stab every single nerve. I am trying my damnedest to stay still when suddenly, I remember my ablation procedure and begin to panic because I HAVE COILS IN MY FALLOPIAN TUBES!!! I feel my heart thudding while I picture the coils being ripped out of my abdomen and sticking to the sardine can in bloody splatters. This is when I calm down enough to remember the freaking button in my hand and press it. Scan is stopped and I explain my dilemma. I hear the tech laugh and tell me that it’s ok, the X-ray shows it isn’t metal. Well,  of course it isn’t. Momentary lapse of reason due to panic. The adrenaline rush isn’t the only pain I am experiencing by now. And before I can stop myself, I move juuuuust a teeny, tiny, weensie, itty bitty bit. I’m talking micro-milli-meter here. I realize what I have done and pray the techs don’t notice.

Yes, I laughed too. After I got home and had taken a pill and drunk a margarita.

Due to my slight movement, I had to repeat the procedure. This time I begged for a bolster under my knees to help with the pain. The obliged, and even though it was a small bolster, at least it was something. Second time was the charm, and finally I was able to go upstairs to wait fifteen minutes for a CD of the scan to take to my provider, who as we all know can’t read it, but whatever. I’m just glad it’s over for now. I can stop fretting over it and move on to fretting over more important things.

Like wondering when the rain will stop😉

Top Shelf

Anyone who is familiar with me in real life, and even just on the internet, knows I am rather an odd duck. I like to melt Peeps, I want to collect certain skulls*, and I own voodoo dolls. Those are a few of my Sithy likes. I’m sure I am not the only one with a like of melting Peeps around here, though the other stuff is questionable.

Look, I am not the only weirdo on the planet.

Anyway, one of my new wants is a shelf of my favorite peeps. The best booze is top shelf, and I figure the best people should be, too. Your mileage may vary, but these are my favorite shelf sitters.

  • Ed Sheeran– I can sit and just look at that beautiful red hair and listen to that beautiful voice forever.
  • Politibunny– I really don’t have to explain this one. She is just amazing.
  • Bruce Willis– those green eyes and shiny pate for the win.
  • Jun Tanaka— Of all the chefs that have appeared on Chopped, he is still my favorite.
  • Nicole Russell— Wonderful writer at The Federalist, covering the everyday and making it awesome.
  • Dan Joseph— The absolute BEST Man on the Street snark, evah.
  • Lara Spencer– Talk about design on a dime, she is the queen of the flea market flip.
  • Jay Caruso— Politics and the art of sarcasm, occasionally with a side order of groovy music.

These are just a few of the many I wish to put on my shelf. Now, some of y’all may think I have secret fantasies involving some of these personalities. Rest assured I do not. I just want them up on a shelf where I can just admire them. That’s it. I don’t ask for much. But just in case men show up with a white jacket for me, make sure someone arranges for Twitter access in my padded cell, m’kay?😉

*No, not really. I just like to map skulls anthropologically. Sheesh…

Random Stuff

I know I have been lax in writing fluff lately. March was a very long month for me. Lent during an election cycle is particularly strenuous. Trust me on this.

I need to get back in the cooking groove. I have been lax lately and doing mostly fast food or easy frozen stuff. There is a vast wealth of knowledge in my cookbook library, and I have been ignoring it in favor of laziness. But there is no way I will ever make Julia Child’s aspic. That crap is disgusting.

Looking through the closet, I can’t for the life of me remember whatever possessed me to get a long suede skirt. You can’t wear it out in bad weather without treating it with Scotch Guard™ every single time. Also, this is TEXAS. Not exactly the fairest weather for leather. And the color? Loden green?? I look horrid in it. The thrift store is going to love me.

Ever had chocolate with cardamon? That stuff is like meth, only you don’t get arrested for imbibing it. Or die from it. Y’all should try it in a dark rich hot cocoa. Unless you have some marshmallow Peeps. I love it when they slowly melt in hot chocolate. I always pretend to be the Wicked Witch and screech, “I’m melting…!!!!” into the cup. Don’t judge me.

I won’t pay anyone to give me a manicure or to give me a hair treatment. But BY GAWD I will pay any amount of money to get the sheltie groomed and smelling nice.

Pandas have reached the end of their evolutionary limb. There, I said it and I am not sorry.

I don’t get how some people are content to be on social media all day. It is the most unsocial thing to do. Odd that people choose to interact on social media but fail to do so personally sometimes. And yes, I see how I can seem a bit ironic of me to write this seeing as I AM BLOGGING. But I will be outside painting and chatting with my neighbors later, so I have that going for me.

Anyway, I hope y’all have a wonderful day today. Remember: there is nothing that a bowl of ice cream won’t cure. This is fact😉


Last week, I traveled to Washington, D.C. Though I was there only a few days, we managed to see a lot of stuff, mostly drive-bys with the intent of scoping out the territory, so to speak.

But this is not about the trip.

This is about the pre-trip part of the journey.

One of the things I do is pack lightly. I am a master at packing. I can manage to pack for five days in a carry-on and still have room for any shopping I wish to do. I am also cognizant of all travel restrictions so I avoid packing any liquids or fragile items. Also, I dress accordingly: no bulky jackets, no boots, no extra bling, no hair clips. Still, due to the fact that I have a rather unconventional hobby, I am bound to be flagged for swabbing or for a thorough search consisting of a pat down by Guido the Supervisor.

But not this time. This time I was sent through TSA Pre and walked right through the X-ray machine with no incident. I was one happy gal. Until I noticed my bag wasn’t coming through the conveyor belt. The agent took it out and re-ran it through, twice. And the third time she called the supervisor over.

Ok, now I was sweating a bit. I reviewed where the bag had been before. No, not the range (wrong bag for that), and no one had borrowed it. Nope, never left my home unless it was with me. The supervisor signaled me over and asked a few questions, specifically if there was anything in the bag that could cut him or physically harm him in any way. Uh, no, unless you think the mascara wand can be hostile. He swabs the inside and proceeds to test it, honing in on the area that sets off the alarm. He begins to dig through my clothing. I am painfully aware of other people watching as he takes out my undies and places them aside. Why the hell didn’t he move the jacket and shirts?? Finally, the culprit was found.


That’s right. The package of Thin Mints was setting off the TSA alarm.

The supervisor took them out and scanned just in case, and turns to me and says, “You know, we like these cookies…”. And with a smile I replied, “And so do I.” He had the good grace to laugh and let me repack my bag. My mortification was further enhanced when the young girl next to a lady piped up and said, “Mom, she has the same panties you do”. I smiled and nodded to the outed Soma™ addict in commiseration, grabbed my bag and ran to my gate.

The moral of the story: never take cookies in your carry-on, and always pack your undies under everything else. It could have been worse, though. I could have been carrying haggis🙂

Thursday Sithy

I’ve been trying to post everywhere I blog all morning, and come to realize that my main blog is the one I neglect the most. When my sources of amusement include going to the thrift store and finding substitutes for everything I gave up for Lent, you know I have a boring life. So here’s a Sithy to tide you over for a bit.

darth vader polish statue

I can’t tell you how much I❤ Poland!!

Have a great day😉

It’s Already Lent, and I Am Praying for Easter

It just started, literally just last week! And I am already a whiny, petulant child. Every year is the same thing: I give up sweets, fats, junk food, and booze. It’s not only a sacrifice but also a secular test of my will power.

I didn’t give up caffeine, though. You wouldn’t like me if I did.

This year my will power is being sorely tested. A friend brought me cookies. I have to make banana bread today. Last night was the “Chocolate Edition” of Cutthroat Kitchen, and to make matters worse, Chef Damiano, a contestant on the last season of Spring Baking Championship and who was total eye candy, won. I am surrounded by sweets of all kinds.

I have the feeling that soon enough it will be junk food tempting me. Possibly fatty foods cleverly disguised as junk food. I’m not so worried about the temptation of wine and vodka, because I can honestly take it or leave it as long as I have sweets. This is going to be….difficult.

But until then, my sense of humor is still intact. So enjoy the peep show until you can partake!


Have a great Monday😉

Well, 2016 Is Off to a Rocky Start…

It has been rough getting the motivation to write. Lately I have had to catch up on my health, getting yearly check-ups, making sure bones aren’t dissolving, etc. With the start of a new year, many people are beginning the “New Year, New You” routines for better health.

I am not really among them.

But I do plan on improving myself in certain areas. I have been learning to redo and repair furniture (my sister Reno Queen would be proud), purging paperwork that is decades old (found boxes in the garage that I thought were full of books, go figure), learning to patch plaster and drywall, and of course, painting everything in sight. I found a little Florentine table that had lost most of its gilt and decided to paint it in ASCP Emperor’s Silk, a red that should have been called French Bordello, in my opinion. Wait until I post the “before and after” so you can see what I mean.

I also have plans to continue my vocational education, and learn welding. No, I never saw Flashdance. It’s just something I’ve always wanted to learn. I figure if I can do well in it I can use it for artistic purposes, because who wouldn’t want to make their own version of an Alexander Calder mobile, right?? I think learning vo-tech is a good way to stay active in the coming seasoned years, so to speak. Lord knows I am not about to start jogging or doing Zumba. If I didn’t start when I was younger, it ain’t happening when I’m older.

Hopefully my resolution to learn how to use all sorts of power tools will culminate in re-organizing the garage into a working work station. Here’s looking at maybe six weeks of work. Well, if I start now, that is. After all, there’s bound to be something that crops up to stall me. Last week, it was friends from out of town. I imagine this week will involve a package of Fig Newtons and a Firefly marathon.

A gal has to have priorities😉