Randomly Fabulous
I have lots of little tidbits that are completely incohesive, so here's your random post:
Last night, Ben and I were watching "Supernanny," or as I like to call it, "See, I'm Not That Bad." I noticed the screaming mommy was wearing an Italian charm bracelet. And I remembered I, too, have an Italian charm bracelet--a Christmas present from my mother last year. But damned if I could remember where the hell it was or when I'd last worn it. So, of course, I had to find the damn thing. Jewelry box--nope. Other jewelry box in bathroom--nope. Hmmm...vaguely remember taking it off at work. Desk drawer in office? Doubt it. What purse was I using at that time? No clue. Purses in bedroom closet--negative. Purses in Rubbermaid storage tub in basement--negative. What about that old makeup bag I used to use? Where the hell is that? Top nightstand drawer--Bingo. Right next to the handcuffs. So I found the bracelet I haven't worn in almost a year, and I'm wearing it today. What I'm not wearing today--my wedding rings, which I removed during the Cookie Dough Caper and forgot to put back on. Me smart.
***
Ben and I had lunch at our favorite (well, locally, anyway) Mexican restaurant. They obviously didn't spend a ton of pesos on their interior design, but the food usually makes up for the stuffed chickens on the ceiling. Not today. The tables all have some sort of artwork on them drowned in hard plastic, and today's table art featured an indigenous male kneeling before the supine form of a sleeping and therefore unsuspecting female. A big bowl of something hot--porridge, perhaps?--sat next to the sleeping maiden.
What could be the artist's message here? The indigenous person was hungry and about to steal the sleeping maiden's porridge? The maiden had fainted, and the indigenous person was about to administer CPR? Um, yeah...the only thing missing from this picture is the little balloon coming from the indigenous person's mouth with the words "don't scream or I'll kill you and then I'm going to eat your porridge" in it.
Great--we're eating fajitas at the Rape Table. I don't want to eat at the Rape Table. Why couldn't we have been seated at the Happy Dolphin Table right next to us? Even the Scary Caballero Table we've eaten at before would have made for better digestion.
At least the cheese dip was good. Mmmmm...cheese dip.
***
If that fucking receptionist doesn't stop standing in the open doorway while she smokes her cigarette every 20 minutes, thereby allowing the frigid cold air to gust down the hall and straight into my office, I'm going to punch her in her freshly-Botoxed face.
Last night, Ben and I were watching "Supernanny," or as I like to call it, "See, I'm Not That Bad." I noticed the screaming mommy was wearing an Italian charm bracelet. And I remembered I, too, have an Italian charm bracelet--a Christmas present from my mother last year. But damned if I could remember where the hell it was or when I'd last worn it. So, of course, I had to find the damn thing. Jewelry box--nope. Other jewelry box in bathroom--nope. Hmmm...vaguely remember taking it off at work. Desk drawer in office? Doubt it. What purse was I using at that time? No clue. Purses in bedroom closet--negative. Purses in Rubbermaid storage tub in basement--negative. What about that old makeup bag I used to use? Where the hell is that? Top nightstand drawer--Bingo. Right next to the handcuffs. So I found the bracelet I haven't worn in almost a year, and I'm wearing it today. What I'm not wearing today--my wedding rings, which I removed during the Cookie Dough Caper and forgot to put back on. Me smart.
***
Ben and I had lunch at our favorite (well, locally, anyway) Mexican restaurant. They obviously didn't spend a ton of pesos on their interior design, but the food usually makes up for the stuffed chickens on the ceiling. Not today. The tables all have some sort of artwork on them drowned in hard plastic, and today's table art featured an indigenous male kneeling before the supine form of a sleeping and therefore unsuspecting female. A big bowl of something hot--porridge, perhaps?--sat next to the sleeping maiden.
What could be the artist's message here? The indigenous person was hungry and about to steal the sleeping maiden's porridge? The maiden had fainted, and the indigenous person was about to administer CPR? Um, yeah...the only thing missing from this picture is the little balloon coming from the indigenous person's mouth with the words "don't scream or I'll kill you and then I'm going to eat your porridge" in it.
Great--we're eating fajitas at the Rape Table. I don't want to eat at the Rape Table. Why couldn't we have been seated at the Happy Dolphin Table right next to us? Even the Scary Caballero Table we've eaten at before would have made for better digestion.
At least the cheese dip was good. Mmmmm...cheese dip.
***
If that fucking receptionist doesn't stop standing in the open doorway while she smokes her cigarette every 20 minutes, thereby allowing the frigid cold air to gust down the hall and straight into my office, I'm going to punch her in her freshly-Botoxed face.
posted by Mitzi Green at 3:15 PM
3 Comments:
Botox? In Missouri? Whoa.
She must be hot.
It's great reading your posts, yo. But you better give props to the man who brought you the term, yo, yo. Yo' dig?
Just kidding. Hope you're having a great day.
John
here it is:
MAD PROPS AND A SHOUT OUT TO MY HOME BOY, DJ JAZZY JOHN. YOU DA BOMB, YO.
wow. white girls shouldn't even try to pull that off. (not even you, buckwild.) :)
miss you!!!!
i think you pulled it off nicely, uhh, yo!
i think you are the shizzle ma-nizzle...? is that right?
again, the white girl tries...and fails.
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