These Pretzels are Making Me Thirsty

My buddy Todd gave this picture of himself as his white elephant gift this year at his family's Christmas party. (please disregard stain on photo, I think I knocked my coffee or drooled slightly) His girlfriend, my friend Heather (who, ironically, has the Elane dance unintentionally down pat) took the picture. She said he was insanely anal about every detail, even buying glasses that he later returned. I managed to bootleg a copy of said photo unbeknownst to Todd.

Plan A: Blog about Timeless Art of Seduction photo in high-larious attempt to embarrass Todd. What's that? Todd doesn't do blogs? Todd hates the idea of blogs and thinks they are stupid? Todd refuses to read my blog? Wha? Who doesn't read THIS blog? Uh.

Plan B: Make outrageous number of copies of photo to replace every photo in every picture frame in my house with said photo of topless Todd. Invite Todd over for Bears playoff game. Wha? Bears didn't make the playoffs?

Plan C: See Plan B minus Bears game plus pizza and heavy drinking.

This will be more fun than giving him the fake $10K winning scratch-off lottery ticket a few years back.

Sephora Nomora

Went to watch belly dancers and eat Middle Eastern food with some of the girls the other night.

Strike One: Belly dancer twisted ankle. No belly. No dancing.


Strike Two: Sangria was decent (Sangria is Middle Eastern?) but they had only one Miller Lite in whole restaurant. WTF.


Strike Three: No French fries. Food in form of long turd.

You’re out.

Strike Four Bonus: Cackling and head shaking abound as I had never heard of the stores Sephora or Brighton (JB, is that the way it is spelled?)

They: (admiring “handbags” Kimmy Kat gave them) Ohhhhh, SEPHORA bags!!!!!!!
Me: (blank stare) What’s Sephora? (blink blink)
They: (gaping mouths and quizzical glance) It is a high end makeup shop.
Me: Do they sell Wet and Wild 99 cent lip stick?


A ruse was in the works to me to get me to Oakbrook on a “pub crawl” only to kidnap me and make me “walk the stores and shops.” Listen ladies, it ain’t happenin. I am totally up for a pub crawl, however.

Highlight:
The 23 year old waiter fresh from Iran, the country formerly known as Persia, (yes, just like Prince) with faux hawk was kind of a cutie. I almost asked if he wanted to see my Weapons of Mass Destruction.

Tits of the Month

As if the disrespect for me among my employees wasn't bad enough, I've outdone myself.

A couple members of my accounting staff were in my office yesterday asking me a question. I was just putting my purse on my bookshelf after using my Chapstick brand Chapstick when my clumsiness went into overdrive and knocked my purse over.

The tits of the month calendar that my bro-in-law, ARod, gave me fell out. It was just lying on the floor, exposed to these women with the gaping mouths.

I swallowed and said, "I, uh, can't wait until October." I then gave the Universal Hand Sign for giant boobs.

Seriously, though. She is stacked.

Graditude Retribution

"Mom, can I be all done with dinner?"
"Sure, if you ate enough, baby."
"Thank you Mommeeeee!!! THANK YOU for letting me be done with dinner!!!!!"

"Thank you for buying me new socks, Momma. You're the best!"


"Mom, I have to poop. Can I please use the bathroom?"


"Can you please buy some healthy food at the grocery store, Mom?

My family gives me shit for the inane things my kids are polite and thankful for, the everyday common things. Jo Dizzle thinks I secretly threaten to beat them senseless if they don't thank me profusely for putting a hat on their heads in 17 degree weather.

I was at the grocery store the other day with Thing One. We were in the produce section and she saw those freakishly small watermelons:

"MOM! Can you pul-ease buy me a watermelon? I haven't had one in a really long time, since they were in season, and I would really love one!"
"Sure, babe, we'll get you one and let's look at these pears, too."
"Oh, thank you Mom, thank you!! You're the best Mommy ever!"

I looked up to see a worker looking at us, she told my daughter that was a sweet thing to say to her Mom and that most of the time kids are just yelling at their moms in the store. Before you ask, the answer is yes. I did start to tear up.

Time spent with their Dad is another story:

Santa Baby

Dear Santa,

In anticipation of Christmas, I tried very hard to be good this year. I would like to apologize for driving too fast, drinking too much, throwing a fit about losing the sprint, my obnoxious cackle that resonates throughout even the most crowded of establishments, my attempt to pay Abu Sodabi to get my name off the naughty list, as well as variety of things I'd like not to mention here. You know what I'm talking about. I'm sorry, as you know, it is very hard being me.

In lieu of adding to my coal collection of years past, I would like you to seriously consider the following:

1. The ability to stop choking on things. No, not THOSE things, I'm good. But really Santa, when songs are made up by friends and family about my choking, I think it is high time I learned to chew. I am also tired of slugging vinegar every time a chip gets lodged in my throat.
   
   
2. An electronic dog collar for myself. I need you to zap me every time I wander into that one cashier's lane at Dominick's. You know the one: skin flaking all over my food, perpetual booger threatening to land on my coupons, monotone voice asking me, "So, how are you doing today?" 15 times. I stumble upon her every time. I want you to shock me as I cross the aisle threshold.
   
   
3. Endless supply of black winter gloves put in random places. Santa, I suffer from the one glove disease. It doesn't matter what kind, I'll lose them anyway.
   
   
4. More antibacterial gel. See number 2.
   
   
5. Adult onesies. To prevent habitual ass crack/thong show.

Thanks for the consideration, Santa. I would also like to take the opportunity to apologize for last year's Breakfast with Santa incident. I never should have worn that skirt and boots to sit on your lap.

Love,

Jana