Is It Bad When...

Okay, so.  TWH & I are home this morning.  Since we're both home, we're trying to take care of some of the "During the Day" kind of stuff that we can't normally attend to.  Setting up Dr. appointments, & things. One of those things is me calling to book rooms for The Parade.  I know September SOUNDS early to be booking something that happens at the end of March, but trust me, I'm WAY behind on this.

Anyway, I need the rewards number for the Hilton, which TWH has.  I'm loading the dishwasher while TWH fiddles with his computer.  This is the conversation that happened:

TWH: What else did you need to do this morning??

Me: I need to call the Hilton.  I need the reward card number.

TWH: Okay, that's on a card in my wallet.

He's still fiddling on his computer.

TWH: (Blurts out random number)

Me: (Grabs pen & paper & jots down random number)  Is that the reward card number??

TWH:  What??

Me: That number you just blurted out, is that thr reward card number??

TWH:  No, THAT number is on a CARD in my WAL-LET.

Me: Well, I didn't know!! I thought you'd.....  Oh. My. God.

TWH:  What??  (eyeballing me suspiciously)

Me:  We sound like your parents.

TWH: YOU sound like my parents. I sound like ME.

Me: Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.

I know people say that as an adult, you begin to sound like your parents (in my case my Mom & Step-Mom) but is it bad when you begin sounding like someone ELSE'S parents??
In this case, I'm sure I could do worse.


(Note: TWH's parents have been married for 38 years & love each other fiercely but if you were to over hear a conversation they were having, and didn't know this, you'd SWEAR they were either headed for divorce court or needed to head for divorce court.  I struggled with the personal anxiety this caused me, as a child of divorced parents, for YEARS when TWH & I first got together before TWH assured me it was just their way.  If you sit back and observe those two, you can see the love and respect they have for each other in the small things they do for each other.   TWH's parents are a  prime example of actions, not words.)

I Just Want My Damn Shoes

Okay, so.  As I've mentioned before, I go to Jackson, Mississippi every March to Participate in the FUN-raising weekend known as The Sweet Potato Queens Zippity Doo Dah Parade.  While it's only ONE weekend, I shop for it all year.  It could almost qualify as a second job.

Last week I ordered THESE:

These are my new Big Hat Luncheon shoes.  I ordered them from an online store called Starlets & Harlots. They are my go-to store for SPQ weekend outfits & accessories.

When the Postal Worker, a woman, delivered my package today, I had to sign for my shoes. As I was signing the slip, she looks at the box & says "Starlets & Harlots. You getting ready for Halloween??".  I coolly responded "No, when I'm not painting cabinets in yoga pants and a ball cap, I dress like a tramp. These are for your average Tuesday."  She stammered "Uhhh....Oh....Okay...." as I closed the door in her face.

Nosy bitch. That'll teach her to question ME about the origins of my deliveries.  Or give her something to gossip about. Whatever.

The Prim & Improper Queens Make Their Debut!!

Okay, so. I am a member of The Sweet Potato Queens. Our Chapter name is the Prim & Improper Queens. Prim, because my Wife-in-Law Amy will walk riiiiiiiight up to the line, put her big toe over it, and be all "Woo-Hoo!!" like she walked on the wild side. Improper, because, well, I'm there. I run full tilt at EVERYTHING and then I'm all "There was a line there?? I'll be damned!! Where??".
It all started with a book I found on my Moms coffee table 15 years ago. It was titled "The Sweet Potato Queens Book of Love" by Jill Connor Browne. I'll encourage you NOW to beg, borrow, download, or (just this once) steal this book if you have to. It's a total life-changer. The premise of the entire book (and movement) is that you don't have to have someone TELL you you're FABULOUS. If no one tells you, go out, buy your own damn crown, and BE Fabulous. Don't wait for a "Special" day to be fabulous. Hell, the day you feel like the biggest piece of shit is the BEST day to wear whatever makes YOU feel FABULOUS.  The best place to find the books is here.
Anyway, the weekend includes a Luncheon on Friday and a Ball on Friday night, we march in a Parade on Saturday, and have a Breakfast on Sunday. There are a ton of activities in between. This weekend isn't relaxing. Not by a long shot. It's not exactly work either. It's busy as hell though.
Here are some Highlights from the weekend:

Friday:

The Big Hat Luncheon on Friday.

That's me on the left, Amy in the middle, and my friend Erica on the right. The apron is one I ordered off The Bloggess' website & had some ribbon added to. It's Juanita the Weasel screaming "This Motherfucking Souffle is RUINED!!" Yep, I thought it added class.

Us at the Big Hair Ball/Street Dance with JCB

We stayed for the WHOLE street dance. We were interviewed by the news, I got to sing with the band, The Bouffants, we got our pictures taken A LOT, and I danced so much, I came back with a blister.

Saturday:

The Blister From Hell didn't stop me from getting up early the next morning to head down to a book signing with Jill Connor Browne. 

Amy & Erica. I guess we didn't actually get one WITH the author. Because THAT would make sense!!

I'm kinda glad I wasn't in this picture. The professional photographer, Duane, took some but I didn't order any. Honestly, after all the eyelashes & fake hair, I looked kinda plain. Also I'd been tanning like it was my JOB before the Parade & I looked like I shoulda stopped WEEKS ago.

Erica & I with Lance Romance aka Wilson Wong.

Parade time FINALLY came. We dressed up in our "Steak & a BJ" outfits & got ready to roll.  the plates have a picture of a steak on them with "March 14th. Happy Men's Valentines Day!!" written on them.  

That's SPQ weekend in a nutshell. We show up in Jackson, Mississippi every year for one weekend in March. We dress up and we PLAY. We play hard. We form friendships with women from all over the country. We are FABULOUS. Just because we said so. If you feel so inclined, you're more than welcome to come play with us next year. Or just grab some girlfriends & make your own chapter. You won't regret it.

Be Careful What You Wish For

Okay, so. This weekend was SPQ weekend. I shared a room with my friend Erica & my Wife-in-Law Amy.
We were in the room changing for some event or other & I was telling the story of Why I Am Going to Hell (reason #427). Part of the story was "It was hot as fuck. I was sweaty as fuck."  Amy looks at me and says "Must you use THAT word?? Can you choose ANOTHER word to use PLEASE??"  I responded with "Sure!! It was hot AS BALLS. I was sweaty AS BALLS."  Amy Cringes and begins yelling "Oh Lawd!!  Never mind!! You can use the OTHER WORD!!"  Apparently, I was able to find something she found more offensive than the use of the word "Fuck". Never underestimate my power to verbally offend. I can do it with OR without the use of profanity.
It's totally my superpower.

Counting Down to SPQ Weekend

Okay, so. In Just a few short days (Thursday) I will be headed to Jackson.  I started packing today because I have a shit ton of stuff to take with me. I have costumes for Friday, Saturday, & Sunday along with accessories & Hurr (wigs) for each one.  When I started unloading my closet, it looked like this:

This is a King-sized bed COVERED in Parade stuff

I managed to stuff just about all of it into 3 plastic bins. I swear, one of these bins is nothing but shoes & hurr!!

Packed up & ready to go (mostly)

I did all this, and a few loads of laundry, and some other stuff, wearing THESE...

My FMPs. Gonna be in a pair similar for most of Friday. Gotta get used to 'em!!

I am walking around in a pair of running shorts, a "Cake or Death??" t-shirt and my FMPs. That's gonna be my at-home outfit for the next few days.  I'll either be hobbled or able to wear them forever.

Bring on the weekend!!  My ass is READY!!!

I'm a Social Goober

Okay, so. In one week (ONE WEEK!!!!) I will be attending my 3rd Sweet Potato Queen weekend. I'm so excited I can barely STAND it. If It wouldn't be totally stupid, I'd start packing already. This Parade??  THIS is my CHRISTMAS!!  I divide time into years by Parade time. It's the be-all event of the year for me. I freakin' love this shit!!
Having said that, I will admit, this weekend is also a huge challenge for me. Because I'm one of the most socially awkward people you will ever come across.
During Parade weekend I will suck at the following:
1) Meeting new people. I suck at this. Fortunately, I'll have my Wife-in-Law with me and my darling friend Erica. These two do NOT meet a stranger.
2) Making small talk.  I REALLY suck at this. I can carry on a well lubed conversation, no problem. Stand me next to someone and ask me to throw out a series of banal comments in the hope that one of them will spark a conversation?? Won't happen.  I'm incapable of doing this. I will stand uncomfortably and stare longingly at the door waiting for someone better at this to come out and save me from the horror that is small talk.
3) Observing social cues and acting on them. This one I UBER SUCK at. I don't even know where to place the blame for this horrific social failing. Also, due to the fact that I have very few (read: NO) verbal boundaries (once you can get me to talk) events like this are more difficult. And usually more uncomfortable.
With that in mind, I'd like to pre-apologize for any and all uncomfortable pauses brought about by my complete ineptitude at small talk. And those caused by my verbal diarrhea. Both will most likely occur.
Sorry Y'all...

I Gots Me ANOTHER Award!!

Okay, so. Jo over at The Bright Yellow Balloon up and gave me another award. Now I'll have TWO pins to make up & wear around to attest to my quasi-awesomeness.  You think I'm kidding. I'm totally not. Imma pin them to my Juanita the Weasel apron for the SPQ Big Hat Luncheon later this month. Look for them in the pictures. They'll be on either side of Juanita.

Anyways....   This is the Award Darlin' Jo gave me:



It originated with Ach du Lieber and it's specifically awarded to people who have under 200 followers.  200..... I can't even imagine...
Of course, every Award has RULES (except the one Jo's gonna make. It's gonna be all anti-rules) so here goes:

1: Link back to the Blogger who gave the Award to you.  Check!!
2: Give this Award to five other Bloggers.
3: Post this on your Blog & follow the rules.

That's it!!  Those are ALL the rules!! Woo Hoo!!

First, Edith MyRant.  She is a single Mom, a Derby Girl (which is cool as hell & intimidating all at once) and a fellow Mommy Blogger. What else could you want??

Second My Suitcase Full of Tricks. Ali is a sassy, funny, skinny(but I can totally forgive her for it) Mom who puts herself out there. Amazingly, she does it without swearing. I KNOW!!

Third The Jamie/Jill Big Ass Cooking Project  This girl seems to be cooking up EVERY recipe from The Sweet Potato Queens Big Ass Cookbook (And Financial Planner). How can you go wrong??  Really??

Fourth Oblong Agenda My friend Julie turned me on to her. Her tagline is "A Journal of My Life Because I Can't Remember Shit". How can you NOT read that blog??

Fifth MamaNeeds1 RefillPlease She's on the same teenage daughter funcoaster. She has a sister who's (apparently) the biggest PITA to ever live. She's a wine lover & a photographer. She has more patience than I could EVER muster.

I've gotta say, I don't follow a TON of Blogs. I have no idea what'll happen if I get any more Awards. I'm fast running out of people to pass them on to.  I'm sure I'll think of something.

Thanks again for the love Jo.  I've said this before. You ROCK!!

Good God, I'm Freakin' TIRED!!

Okay, so.  I have been up since 1:30 this morning. Not my idea. AT. ALL.  Tigger, also known as New Crackhaid Dawg, decided 1:30 was the perfect time to FREAK THE FUCK OUT IN HIS KENNEL.  I rolled over and mumbled "Hush Tigger". He quieted down for a few minutes then started whining again. TWH jumps in at this point & sternly says "Tigger, shut up". He did and I happily was on the verge of returning to my blissful slumber when (I guess) Tigger started up again and TWH (practically) yelled "Tigger!!  HUSH!!" which jolted me awake and scared the ever loving shit out of me. THAT'S why I have been stumbling around all day on 3 hours sleep.  Thank God for Starcracks!!

Needless to say, I'm a little cranky. I also have an extra short tolerance for crap right now.
Here's what happened on the way home.
TWH: (Singing along with the radio) *mumble, mumble, blah, blah*
ME: What?? (Thinking he actually SAID something)
TWH: Huh??
Me: Did you say something??
TWH: Huh??
Me: You're being a dick.
TWH:??

I go to tan. I'm tanning because the ZDD Parade is fast approaching & brown fat looks better than white fat. If you need proof, look at uncooked VS cooked bacon & tell me which one is more appealing. See?? Brown fat is better.
I doze off in the tanning bed & my ass is slightly sunburned.

I come home, have some pizza, and am sitting down watching TV. I have one Dawg barking at me for no apparent reason & one Dawg chewing on me. I'm almost on the verge of tears and am powerless to stop ANY of this.

I'm drinking tea. I'm watching ONE show on the DVR and I'm going to BED!!

Longest. Day. EV-ER!!

The Universe Loves Me....

Okay, so.  I have mentioned before that the Universe loves me.  I occasionally get a free coffee at the drive thru "Just because" and it happens to be my favorite flavor.  Or, I'm stumbling through the Walgreens looking for some holiday Ziploc baggies and leave with a Leg Lamp.  Well, today was another exapmle. I went to the Post Office (which was, as usual, crowded as hell) to pick up a package. I see the loooonnnggg line, sigh in resignation, and take my place.  About a minute later, someone walks out of the back and asks if anyone has any certified mail they need to pick up. I start waving my little slip of paper around yelling "ME!! ME!!".  I got my package, and happily left.

On to the pediatrician to pick up TB's prescription. I walk in and there are NO cootie ridden children piled up in the waiting room.  Woo-Hoo!!  I only have to use half the amount of germ-x when I leave.

I go drop TB's prescription off at the pharmacy and on my way home I see the WEENIE Mobile!!

I need to run errands more often.  This shit is awesome!!

I come home to open my package. Giggling all the way inside.  (Because in this package lives my AWESOME Parade Shoes)  I rip off the packaging, kick off my sandals...

And step in a puddle of dog pee.

Because while the Universe loves me, It also doesn't want me getting too big for my britches.

P.S. I can't get the photo of my AWESOME shoes to upload. Because I'm a techno-dork. I'll upload one as soon as I can get TWH to help me.

I'm About to Make My Mom Proud

Okay, so.  Every year, me,  my girlfriends & my Wife-in-Law (she's married to my ex) load up to take ourselves to Jackson, Mississippi for a weekend to be a part of the World Famous Sweet Potato Queens Zippity Doo Dah (formerly the St. Paddy's Day) Parade. This is a weekend where we don costumes, wigs, LOADS of sparkly jewelry and the biggest Tiaras we can find that we can fit into our budgets and PLAY. And we play HARD.  I have learned several things over these weekends but one of my all-time favorite things I have learned is the phrase "Eat Shit ".  I use it. A LOT. I also added AND DIE for good measure.  See, last year, I got pretty NOT sober at the ball.  I was not sober enough that I ended up doing drunken cartwheels and the splits in the hallway outside my room.  Somehow, we ended up with the photographer in tow and he took pictures of my drunk ass performing these feats.  He had them on display outside the breakfast room the next morning. I have to say, I looked WAY more awesome in my head. Kinda like those pictures on Pinterest. "This is how I think I look..."  My Mom would be so proud...   Anyways, during my drunken acrobatics, a small crowd had formed to witness my jackassery. We may have been a LITTLE loud. It may have been a LITTLE late.  So some woman opens her door and begins griping about the noise and could we keep it down because she had kids in her room who were trying to sleep.  My response went something along the lines of "Boy are YOU in the wrong hotel on the wrong weekend Sister!!"  Really, this Parade has been on the SAME weekend, in the SAME hotel FOR-EV-ER.  Okay, if I'd have been sober, I'd have (maybe) been nicer. But I wasn't so there you are.  The next day, we were on the bus coming back from some event or other when the subject of the cranky woman came up.  Turns out, she'd been a pure-d Bitch the night before but I wasn't really paying attention to the full rant.  Well, one of the ORIGINAL Wannabe Queens, Martha Jean Alford, (Whom I absolutely ADORE) was in the front of the bus. She turns around with her damn near six foot self in her Queenly shades and says "I just can't believe she was so UGLY!!  Did you tell her to just EAT SHIT ??"  "No, but we sure wish we had!!" was our response.   Fast forward to that night. I am considerably more sober than the night before. I had washed my face, brushed my teeth, & donned my sock monkey pajamas when I pause, sit on the foot of my bed, look up at my Wife-in-Law (we shared a room last year) and say "Y'know what would be funny as HELL??  We go to Bitchy McBitchypants' room, knock on her door, and when she answers say in unison "Martha Jean says to EAT SHIT!!  Goodnight!!"   My WIL said while it WOULD be funny, it might not be prudent so we just went on to bed.  She's obviously the level headed one.  We will be headed to Jackson again this March. We have more wigs & more bling. Y'all should come play. You won't regret it. And maybe, just maybe, I'll do a couple of cartwheels for ya.