Thursday, October 1, 2009

Dieters prayer

Not much been happening with me. I'm on a diet. Hoping to fit into skinny pants for fourth row tickets to Phantom of the Opera in a few weeks. It's my fourth day of dieting and my first day off work since I started. I'm at home alone with only my cats, my thoughts and lots of tempting foods. Trying to teach myself to love oatmeal, day 3. I hate it still, but I'll keep attempting to eat the quick, low calorie alternative to skipping breakfast or eating something sugary. Something somewhat witty popped into my head while attempting NOT to think about double stuffed Oreos, crackers and cheese, chips and dip and mmmmMM ice cream....

Our Father, who art in Heaven
hollow be the calories in what I crave.
I want just some,
But it'd be dumb
to ruin what I already started.
Give me this day some strength to eat right.
And help me not to cheat,
as we forgive those who eat cake in front of us.
And lead me not into the kitchen,
because there's Oreos and chips in there.
For then I'll be skinny,
and fit into those pants for Phantom.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Iowa State Fair Game...All can play!!!

Last weekend the hun and I went to the Iowa State Fair. It's hard to describe to a non-I.S.F. participant why this fair is SO awesome. Let me talk numbers: 100,000 each day of the fair, totaling 1 million fair goers each year. It's that HUGE. Most of the attendees are Iowans, which is to be expected.
Disclaimer: Though it will soon seem other wise, I love Iowa and Iowans. I married one, and all the in-laws are still there, and I love them too.
So all these Iowans mixed with a few of us "normal folk". You got the Papa Iowan, whos got his mullet washed, his best bibs on and itchin' to go see the latest and greatest in tractors and combines while hoping he gets recognized from his cameo on COPS. Then there is Mama Iowan, with her 90s inspried curly fro, sporting her Mom pants, praying that her dried flower arrangement will take home the blue ribbon. Then you got the Iowa tykes...all 4H kids, each a result of a conjugal visit. It makes for some great people watching. So a few years back we were at the fair (myself, Hun, his brother and sister-in-law) enjoying our chow-on-a-stick, watching the people go by and pointing out (respectfully) the freaks (read:Hicks, Rednecks, Hoosiers, Bumpkins, Hillbillies, Rural Folk) . When a game developed...The Iowa State Fair Game. The best thing about it, everyone can play! You Don't even have to be at the I.S.F., or any fair, or even in Iowa (though that does help, you'll see why...)
It's easy to play. you may have already played and not even known it.

The rules are simple; play close attention to the crowd, be the first to spot any of the "Point items" on a person, point it out (verbally, unless the people is far enough away, obviously). Also unique items, not listed as "Point items" can get you points. For these you point them out and your fellow Iowa State Fair Game players, or Judges, will decide on how many points that item is worth. Keep a close eye out for Multipliers, these items will double your findings on any one person!!!

Point items:
Nascar Shirt
Nascar hat
Nascar anything!
Cowboy hat
cigarette not in mouth/hand (on arm, in hat, etc.)
hole in shirt
stain on shirt
animal poo on a shirt (or something that might be poo)

Big Belt Buckle
Dried Meat (like Slim Jims)

Example: Man with a glorious Mullet and a huge sweet Nascar belt buckle...
Mullet (+1) Nascar item (+1) Belt Buckle (x2)
1+1x2= 4 points

Again, if you see something wonderful you are to point it out to the others playing the game, who will decide upon a fair amount of points to be alloted to that item/travesty of fashion.
An example of this is pictured: SHIRTLESS man, with cowboy hat. His lovely lady riding with him on the "skylift" is sporting a "respect your mother tee". How respectful is it to go out in public (100,000 people a day, this ain't some family reunion) with someone without your shirt on? Really? So this is one couple that I would point out (or in this case photo) and let the others playing the game decide how many points it's worth.

How many would you give it?

Sunday, August 9, 2009

Come-backs gone wild

The hun and I were float trip virgins, until this weekend when we popped our cherries. It was not enjoyable for us. It's not our thing, not in August, not ever. We're campers, we camp the crap outta fall. It's August, it's hot, we're not August campers, and apparently not float trip material. So after a night of soooo little sleep after which we tried to nap in the car before going to the float portion of the float trip. Any day that involves sleeping in your car is not such a good day, period. Fast forward, we're going along in our canoes...we're about 40 min along our supposed 6 hour, 6 mile float trip. The hun and I are among the faster of the floaters, you see we USE those paddles to propel ourselves forward unto the water. It's more of a paddle trip for us, than a float trip. So we get far enough ahead that we can't see most of the group, so we pull off to the side with 2 other couples in our group that use paddles. So we wait there, did I mention that we only know one couple of the 40 people in our group? So yeah, they're not paddlers apparently 'cause they're nowhere in sight. So an hour passes and still haven't seen any members of our group, so we elect a fellow paddler to swim against the current to check on the situation. He returns with the news that the rest of the group has pulled out of water up stream and will come our way shortly. +20 minutes, still no sight of anyone. Pissed. I need at very least a change of scenery, and some shade. Did I mention it's 90 degrees and we're in direct sun? So the paddlers trek on, with intentions of going a little way and pulling over to continue to wait for the others. Hun and I lead the way, until we realize we out-paddle the fellow paddlers. Crap. So we wait, and wait. Then give up and go it our own. So there is the set up, floating virgins, on our own, having not such a fun time. When this happens...

We come upon a bank, where a group of guys has pulled off on the river bank. One particularly cocky loud mouth yells to us: "Everyone's been flashing us when they pass that tree" pointing to a tree just ahead of us.
I turn around to my hun and tell him loud enough so they may hear; "Hear that? They want to see YOUR junk when we pass that tree!"
To that the loud mouth responds; "I don't want to see his, I've got what he's got."

Now I must remind you that he's with his buddies, and we've established that he's the cocky, loud mouthed one. Every group of men has that one guy, and this guy is their's...on with it then...

So he's just said; "I've got what he's got."
"Oh no, [short pause] you don't"

It's the best part of the whole trip, his group instantly uproars in laughter. Hours and hours of mocking start at that moment. He was humiliated by a GIRL, who insulted his JUNK. He was left speechless as we canoed out of sight.

The six mile trip down the river lasted 3 hours for us, we packed up our tent and took off before any others returned. We're so not floaters, or August campers...but what a memorable time, I'm sure his buddies aren't likely to let him forget it.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Vacation between the Toyotas

When I lived in Southern Illinois we used to visit a friend that had a home on the lake every Tuesday. She had a neighbor with a fabulous home across from hers. Recently my mom found that they now rent the guest home on that property out by the day/week. Pretty smart idea, they have all the ammenadies, pool, lake, game room, paddle boat, etc. It gave me an idea....
My parents are without a guest home.


They do have a detached garage. Enjoy the listing.....

Stay in a lovely detached garage, on the property of one of South Nixon Streets finest homes. Lower level sleeps four, storage loft sleeps one. Linens provided for up to 3 beds, bring your own pillows and beds. Lower level houses personal gym [dad's workout bench], woodshop [band saw, table saw and drill press], crafting center [an area to paint stuff] and theater[old t.v. seating is the workout bench]. Within walking distance to Hucks gas station, a thift store that thinks it's Neiman Marcus, park, community pool and several burned down buildings.
Start up a new friendship with the desperate, lonely woman over the fence, go get a refreshing fountain drinks from the Hucks, shop the overpriced crap-thiftmart, walk to the park or watch people pump gas.
So much to do at the Detached Garage on South Nixon Street!

I dunno, should I have ended it with "Because who really vacations in Southern Illinois anyways?"

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Now Hiring: B.F.F./Sales

I want my place of employment to hire another salesperson. We definitely need one, we've been crazy busy. I've also decided I need a B.F.F. so I want the new salesperson to also be my new B.F.F. I've come up with what I'm looking for:
A hard worker with a background in sales or customer service is a must, for the job related parts of the new hire.
For the B.F.F position I have just a few more requests...
I want a married woman, around my age. She should be good-looking but not more attractive than me. She should be one size bigger than I am with a closet full of gently worn designer"skinny clothes" that she graciously surrenders to me. She must have a good sense of humor, but in no way be as funny as I am (I know that it would be hard to find someone funnier than I, but I must put that in just-in-case. She should say random funny things, that will be able to quoted out-of-context for years to come. She must collect things, so we can go antique shopping together. She should drive a Toyota. She should have cats, but no more than 3 and not want to have kids for a few more years. She should live within 2-10 miles from me, no closer, no further. She should have a nice comfortable home with a big yard and a heated pool. Her husband has to be similar to my own (but not as good-looking, funny or as excelled in athletic ability, game playing ability or grilling ability). He can become my husband's B.F.F. This is all that I ask. I can interview candidates.

Thursday, May 28, 2009


Here it is, the sequel to my first blog. I've been keeping a word document on my desktop entitled "Blog Ideas" so when I think of a blogelicious bit I put it in there, so far nothing has been all that good. So I haven't blogged, nobodies missing it so what does it matter? Then tonight I was writing to my mom, some know her as "Housewife Savant". To me she's mom, to my kitties she's "Gammie" (to her they are affectionatly called her"Grandkitties"). You can tell we're related because we both love these () (cha!)
So I was writing to my mom, and it was funny as h***, then I thought-"Wow, this is funny as h***! I should totally blog this!" So here is is My Blog Part duece.

I went tanning again tonight, I think that makes 7 days straight. We West girls are many things and one of them is frugal. I bought a month of tanning and I'll be d***ed if I miss one day. (Actually I may have missed Memorial Day), but other than that I'm milking this month-o-tan for all it's worth. Tonight the girl at the desk remembered my name.
"That's right tan chick, you'll be seeing plenty of me around. Not only will you know my name, but you'll start to recognize that smell that I leave behind in the tan clam and you'll grow to like it."
The husband's probably thinking "If she used the gym membership like she uses the month-o-tan she'd be so fit." But to that supposed thought I would say:
"If I'm tan I LOOK thinner, and that's so much easier!" I'm going to keep on tanning until the color of my nips is no longer a defining darker color. That's how tan I'll get. AND I will tan upside down, to get my feet nice and dark so when I wear my leather AE flip flops it looks like I'm barefoot. THAT's how tan I'll get. The husband's leaving tomorrow to visit his family for the weekend, I warned him that the half naked black woman that he'll see sitting on the sofa, on my computer when he gets back, that'd be me. That's how tan I'll get.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

The story behind the title

My husband’s family lives in the neighboring state of Iowa. It's a 7/8 hour drive full of snacks, tunes and lots of laughs so much so that we have to exit often for bathroom breaks. After doing many of these trips we’ve developed a slue of inside jokes from just our car rides alone. Some jokes we continue talking about for weeks, others not worth remembering once we arrive home. The most infamous is the "Hobo" line of hilarity. No one knows who started it. Okay, I won't be was me I'm the funny one. This blog is set out to prove it. Sorry MILN (Mother-in-law, Namels), he's funny, but I'm hilarious. I get it from my mom, she‘s witty and wise but mostly witty. Back to the story. So we've driving home from a cornland visit and as we exit for gas there stands a homeless person sporting a backpack of his belongings and the trademark cardboard sign. I asked my husband in all seriousness; "Don't you ever want to go up to a Hobo and ask him ‘Where did you get that Sharpie?’" So for the next few hours we came up with a series of Hobo humor that’s been some of the funniest stuff to have ever been said between us. From starting a website that allows it‘s visitors to rate Hobo pictures to questions that we could ask if we were to ever interviewed a hobo. These questions go beyond "What made you homeless?" That would be a lame, and probably not funny question to ask. Of all the questions there are only 2 that I remember (as I said, some things not worth remembering):

"Where did you get that Sharpie?" , "Who are you wearing Hobo?"