February 28, 2008
Knowing all of this, I charged into Old Navy on a mission the other day, and an hour and a half later, I had two new pairs in my hot little hand. But it wasn't easy, my friends. They have basically three styles, with variations on each, and I decided that "The Sweetheart" was for me. But I didn't want the "skinny" version or the wide leg version, and I sure as HELL didn't want the "high-waisted" version. Seriously, those look like shit on EVERYONE. If they look like shit on those walking coathangers that think they're bringing Marilyn back, can you imagine what they would look like on a giant mother of two who regularly gets her Tex-Mex on? I almost tried them on as a joke, but I didn't want to break my concentration. I was reminded, however, of Karla May and how, when we see stupid clothes like that, one of us always says, "That would look so good on me. Especially if it was in white."
Once I decided on the style and the size, I was done, right? No. Each size comes in Ankle, Regular, and Long, and I really need the Long. So I looked in the stacks and stacks of Sweethearts on the shelves, as well as every hidey-hole of backstock in that GD store, and I came to this conclusion: The makers of these GD jeans have decided that they have used up way too much of their precious (cheap) denim to cover the asses of those needing my particular size so they couldn't possibly waste another two inches on the length, so screw you, you giant fatties. Really. Not one pair in a Long. They've got everything else under the sun, but not the one blessed combo I was looking for. Of course.
So I ended up with two new pairs of highwaters, but they were only $29.50 a piece. See you in eight years, suckers.
February 23, 2008
February 21, 2008
In addition, Olive informed me yesterday that her future career plans include: horse trainer/large animal vet; housekeeper; and "running the carousel." How all of this works into their plans for one to work at Mouse World and one at Mouse Land and visiting each other back and forth, I have no idea. But for now, please meet my children: the doctor and the carny.
February 19, 2008
February 15, 2008
And Hustler, but ONLY if he's "The One."
February 11, 2008
Speaking of, T-Bone and I half-watched the Grammys last night, skipping through the majority of it because, hello, I don't know most of these people nor do I know their music. BUT when Mr. Morris Day came out, we had to put the brakes on so I could bust out my own Jungle Love. I love The Time. When I was in high school, I saw them at The Sunken Gardens in San Antonio, where they headlined a show with (ready?) Lisa Lisa and The Cult Jam AND The Fat Boys. Can you dig it?! I was so cool.
Oh, and I've decided that of all the junkie singers I've loved in my day (The King, notwithstanding), Amy Winehouse is my favorite. Sistagirl is one talented mess, and I do so enjoy her. One day at a time, Ames. One day at a time.
P.S. Did anybody else scream in horror at the size of 'Retha's rack?! Damn, y'all! I told T-Bone that just one of her boobs was as big as my head, and he said, "Oh, come on. Your head's not that big."
February 7, 2008
I am sending this email string to you so you can get a little taste of the resistance we are facing ... The opposing counsel, T-Bone, is just not going to deal with us. There is a rule directly on point, and in his mind, that is the end of the story. He is not going to do the right thing here which is to assume we (have the required evidence). Without (it), we are dead in his mind and he won't even agree to meet to try to just do a walk away. If T-Bone was not such a robot, we might have been able to work a deal with him but his world is just too black and white.
If you know T-Bone, you know that he is the most non-confrontational, easy-going guy around, and even HE was like, WTF? So he called the guy, who was totally confused and mortified and semi-apologetic. Then he said, "You know I don't mean that, right? It's just part of the game. We just can't win ... blahblahblah." See, it's assholes like that that make people hate lawyers. But I'm pretty sure anybody that resorts to grade school name-calling and can't figure out how to use Outlook properly is a fucking idiot anyway. It just so happens he's also a lawyer.
February 5, 2008
Yeah. I've put my giant ass back on the wagon. I decided over the holidays that I didn't want to hit my 40th bday at my highest, non-pregnant weight, and I had good luck with WW after Peach was born, so we'll see. I won't bore you with the details, but just know that I don't plan on buying any pinkie rings, tanning memberships, or little red Corvettes for my little mid-life crisis. No. I'll just be happy if the backs of my arms stop moving when I do.
February 3, 2008
The getting-ready for the big date was pretty exciting in itself. Peach instructed T-Bone to wear his black suit with the pink (natch) shirt and tie she picked out for him for Christmas two years ago. And, of all things, she insisted on wearing this:
Don't make 'em like this anymore, do they? Yes. It was mine. My mom LOVED this dress so much, she kept it lo these many years. And Peach thinks it's SO fancy. She wore it to The Nutcracker last year, and I thought that was probably the end of it, save for any dress-up fun of the Little House on the Prarie variety. But no. The minute she found out about the dance, she declared that this was THE dress, so off she went, her apron strings (yes) tied neatly in a bow. And as I was taking the requisite pictures before they left, Olive, standing next to me with those giant, dark eyes wide, breathlessly said, "You look beautiful, Sissy."
Didn't I tell you? Cute.
February 1, 2008
I will tell you this, though: I remembered the other day, while watching Peach and Olive devour a bottle of banana milk (their self-selected "treat" from the grocery store last weekend - eww), that I used to love stuff like that. Like, I loved Laverne DeFazio so much, and I always wondered what milk and Pepsi would taste like, but my parents hated Pepsi, so all we had was Coke, and I thought that would taste different, so I was screwed, right? Wrong. I had the BRIGHT idea of combining milk and ... Big Red, the super sweet, super carbonated, born-in-Texas red drink that we always had on hand, thanks to my dad's incredible sweet tooth. I LOVED it. And sometimes, I thought it wasn't quite sweet enough, so I would add Strawberry Nesquik, too - heaping spoonfuls! It's a wonder I have any teeth left in my head at all.