A new mother is out to lunch with her husband and baby. They are having a wonderful time laughing and smiling over the table top - occasionally reaching across the length of the Formica top to grasp hands and exchange a look.
This mom has done the near impossible, at least in my eyes, and dropped the baby weight quickly because her figure is cute enough to have on low rise hip hugging jeans and a snug brightly colored midriff t-shirt. She even has on some hootchie high heeled sandals that make my own feet hurt with the idea of walking around all day shopping on those murderous things.
What she HASN'T purchased since the weight loss however, is new lingerie and she's still wearing her granny-panties.
My girlfriend and I are laughing ourselves silly watching her as she rises from her bench seat, hands the baby over to her loving husband and leaves to head towards the restroom.
We are spellbound, in a fit of giggles watching this as it happens in slow motion - mom is about 5'2 and no more than 120 pounds. She is smiling ear to ear with pride, the love is shining in her eyes and on her face and she leans in to land a great big kiss on her husband's lips as he tips his face upwards.
While leaning over the table, her ass is jutting outward into the aisle like a prized lapdancer posing her wares. Knees slightly bent in as she leans over the table, her arms pressing down onto the table elbows locked in place with her shoulders proudly rolled forward and her hair hanging forward into her face.
She is oblivious to the display of excessive fabric being aired for all to see.
Now being of the female persuasion, I know all too well that this display of affection is not just for her husband's love but for a show for all the rest of us to see as well. Every good woman knows that this production is to exploit what the good Lord has given us to see, for our man and for anyone else to see.
If we've enticed everyone else AND our man noticed that means he's not only going to be a little jealous he's also going to be a little proud that we are his. He's going to be proud as a peacock that he 'owns' that and he'll take a little more effort to show us off later on.
Her kiss lingers a moment, she gives an extra quick tickle to her babies nose and then stands up and starts to shimmy her way to the back of the restaurant. Her husband's gaze follows her and when it does...he sees ...her great big granny panties in all their glory.
They are shell pink and polyester and somewhere around a size 14 compared to her diminutive size 4. The amount of fabric coming out of the tops of her jeans looked like her Levi's were throwing up a pillowcase.
It looks the way pantyhose fall down when stretched out and wrinkled at the ankles of little old ladies in cartoons except this was bunched up at her waist; since her jeans were low rise and her shirt was a midriff...everything was there for the viewing!
His gaze and his smile disappears when he sees her walk a few steps away and he turns his attention back to the baby and starts to chew on his food, quickly forgetting his romantic moment - the twinkle disappearing from his eyes.
When saggy bottoms returns, she's tucked her shorts back in thankfully but sadly for us because we were ready with our camera this time around!
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
how not to pick your friends.
The hardware store is a great adventure on a Sunday. The domestic warrior on his junket for fix-it parts and tools is swaggering the aisles while wives and rug rats lag behind.
Most of the men are wearing denim jeans slipping an inch too low off the hips while their shirts have ridden up over their protruding stomachs.
Here we have this guy in the store, you wouldn't really notice him initially. He blends in with the rest of the typical shoppers, yet he keeps looking at the two of us with pretty deep intensity.
I have this extra paranoid radar and can sense whenever someone's up in my business. Where did I get this radar? probably from the fact that I am equally as nosy and staring at people but I think my way is candid enough that its not caught frequently.
Sure as shit, I look and this guy has followed us to 3 different aisles but hasn't really appeared to be shopping for anything. He's just checking us out like we're the next broadway act.
We've come to pick up a dozen extra tiles that are going to be laid at the entryway near the sliding glass door. My man's weekend warrior job is to finally give the living room the kick in the ass I've been begging for. The flooring is (was!) pretty damn worn and in desperate need of repair so with my combination of begging and nagging he's given in at long last.
We pick out our ceramic tiles, nails and transition strips and toss them into the buggy (okay what do you call it? Originally when I lived in the northern Midwestern states I called it a grocery cart but after the last 7+ years south of the Mason-Dixon I've found myself calling it a buggy) we then make our final approach to the check out.
The next thing I notice is that the weirdo is suddenly ahead of us and doing his check-out (he has bought a package of AAA batteries).
He looks over his shoulder at me.
Takes his right index finger and inserts it into his nose with complete deliberateness. Then while his finger is in there, does a full swirl like he is swiping out the inside of a bowl cake icing.
Withdraws his finger and inspects it closely - you know the way you would look down your nose and then twist your finger this way and that to get the sunlight to catch every angle of the glistening prize.
With his forefinger and thumb he starts rolling this globule of goober until it wicks away enough moisture to his satisfaction.
He then starts pulling his booger covered finger, in pistol-like fashion towards his side...farther..farther until he gently tucks it OH SO LOVINGLY into his rear pocket. He actually pulled back his back pocket just enough so he could insert his finger and deposit that goober for safe keeping.
With a quick flourish, he then patted his own rear and pulled his hand back up to his mouth and licked his finger and left the building.
holy crap - all of this while he basically was still watching me. He wanted an audience.
He got one and now he has an even larger one.
Most of the men are wearing denim jeans slipping an inch too low off the hips while their shirts have ridden up over their protruding stomachs.
Here we have this guy in the store, you wouldn't really notice him initially. He blends in with the rest of the typical shoppers, yet he keeps looking at the two of us with pretty deep intensity.
I have this extra paranoid radar and can sense whenever someone's up in my business. Where did I get this radar? probably from the fact that I am equally as nosy and staring at people but I think my way is candid enough that its not caught frequently.
Sure as shit, I look and this guy has followed us to 3 different aisles but hasn't really appeared to be shopping for anything. He's just checking us out like we're the next broadway act.
We've come to pick up a dozen extra tiles that are going to be laid at the entryway near the sliding glass door. My man's weekend warrior job is to finally give the living room the kick in the ass I've been begging for. The flooring is (was!) pretty damn worn and in desperate need of repair so with my combination of begging and nagging he's given in at long last.
We pick out our ceramic tiles, nails and transition strips and toss them into the buggy (okay what do you call it? Originally when I lived in the northern Midwestern states I called it a grocery cart but after the last 7+ years south of the Mason-Dixon I've found myself calling it a buggy) we then make our final approach to the check out.
The next thing I notice is that the weirdo is suddenly ahead of us and doing his check-out (he has bought a package of AAA batteries).
He looks over his shoulder at me.
Takes his right index finger and inserts it into his nose with complete deliberateness. Then while his finger is in there, does a full swirl like he is swiping out the inside of a bowl cake icing.
Withdraws his finger and inspects it closely - you know the way you would look down your nose and then twist your finger this way and that to get the sunlight to catch every angle of the glistening prize.
With his forefinger and thumb he starts rolling this globule of goober until it wicks away enough moisture to his satisfaction.
He then starts pulling his booger covered finger, in pistol-like fashion towards his side...farther..farther until he gently tucks it OH SO LOVINGLY into his rear pocket. He actually pulled back his back pocket just enough so he could insert his finger and deposit that goober for safe keeping.
With a quick flourish, he then patted his own rear and pulled his hand back up to his mouth and licked his finger and left the building.
holy crap - all of this while he basically was still watching me. He wanted an audience.
He got one and now he has an even larger one.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
The Funny Farm...
Artist: Napoleon XIV
They're coming to take me away.
Remember when you ran away
And I got on my knees
And begged you not to leave
Because I'd go berserk?
Well. . .
You left me anyhow
And then the days got worse and worse
And now you see I've gone
Completely out of my mind
And. . .
They're coming to take me away, HA HA
They're coming to take me away, HO HO HEE HEE HA HA
To the funny farm
Where life is beautiful all the time
And I'll be happy to see
Those nice, young men
In their clean, white coats
And they're coming to take me away, Ha-haaa!
You thought it was a joke
And so you laughed
You laughed when I had said
That losing you would make me flip my lid
Right. . .
You know you laughed, I heard you laugh
You laughed, you laughed and laughed
And then you left
But now you know I'm utterly mad!
And. . .
They're coming to take me away, HA HA
They're coming to take me away, HO HO HEE HEE HA HA
To the happy home
With trees and flowers and chirping birds
And basket weavers who sit and smile
And twiddle their thumbs and toes
And they're coming to take me away, Ha-haaa!
I cooked your food
I cleaned your house
And this is how you pay me back
For all my kind, unselfish loving deeds?!!
Hah. . .
Well you just wait
They'll find you yet
And when they do they'll
Put you in the ASPCA, you mangy mutt!
And. . .
They're coming to take me away, HA HA
They're coming to take me away, HO HO HEE HEE HA HA
To the funny farm
Where life is beautiful all the time
And I'll be happy to see
Those nice, young men
In their clean, white coats
And they're coming to take me away, Ha-haaa!
To the happy home
With trees and flowers and chirping birds
And basket weavers who sit and smile
And twiddle their thumbs and toes
And they're coming to take me away, Ha-haaa!
To the funny farm
Where life is beautiful all the time
And I'll be happy to see
Those nice, young men
In their clean, white coats
And they're coming to take me away, Ha-haaa!
They're coming to take me away.
Remember when you ran away
And I got on my knees
And begged you not to leave
Because I'd go berserk?
Well. . .
You left me anyhow
And then the days got worse and worse
And now you see I've gone
Completely out of my mind
And. . .
They're coming to take me away, HA HA
They're coming to take me away, HO HO HEE HEE HA HA
To the funny farm
Where life is beautiful all the time
And I'll be happy to see
Those nice, young men
In their clean, white coats
And they're coming to take me away, Ha-haaa!
You thought it was a joke
And so you laughed
You laughed when I had said
That losing you would make me flip my lid
Right. . .
You know you laughed, I heard you laugh
You laughed, you laughed and laughed
And then you left
But now you know I'm utterly mad!
And. . .
They're coming to take me away, HA HA
They're coming to take me away, HO HO HEE HEE HA HA
To the happy home
With trees and flowers and chirping birds
And basket weavers who sit and smile
And twiddle their thumbs and toes
And they're coming to take me away, Ha-haaa!
I cooked your food
I cleaned your house
And this is how you pay me back
For all my kind, unselfish loving deeds?!!
Hah. . .
Well you just wait
They'll find you yet
And when they do they'll
Put you in the ASPCA, you mangy mutt!
And. . .
They're coming to take me away, HA HA
They're coming to take me away, HO HO HEE HEE HA HA
To the funny farm
Where life is beautiful all the time
And I'll be happy to see
Those nice, young men
In their clean, white coats
And they're coming to take me away, Ha-haaa!
To the happy home
With trees and flowers and chirping birds
And basket weavers who sit and smile
And twiddle their thumbs and toes
And they're coming to take me away, Ha-haaa!
To the funny farm
Where life is beautiful all the time
And I'll be happy to see
Those nice, young men
In their clean, white coats
And they're coming to take me away, Ha-haaa!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
what makes a dog go wonkers?
I'm pretty curious because for the last several days now my ridiculous 7 month old bitch Helen (soon to be spay) has been seeing dead people (or is it dead-dogs?). She walks about the yard and suddenly acts as if something has nipped her heels or goosed her ass and yips, runs, then tucks her tail between her legs.
This has become tiresome to say in the least because we have a lovely large yard for playing in and yet she's now hanging out on the patio and crapping there. I'm not in the mood to step out onto turdlettes each day. The other 2 canine companions think she's a fool, are out having a romp in the yard and look at her like, "You are a dork!"
This morning I spent 1 hour scrubbing floors, this upcoming weekend I am going to try my hand being Bob Villa and recreating the Potty Patch
pottypatch
The temperatures here in central Texas continue to soar into the 100s. Try as much as I would like to, potty training isn't working for 3 small dogs indoors and so the little shitheads MUST go outside. Poncho has been trained for years - BUT NOW there are 2 extras.
I've just gone out and fashioned little doggy swimming pools from unused cat litter trays (shut up - I'm resourceful) and the 2 that are not paranoid are lounging in their Beverly Hills lagoons, tongues lolling and occasionally lapping up a few cool drinks while Dorko runs to and fro.
She first approaches Poncho and looks to him, he is the veteran doggy in this home. There's askance in her dark brown eyes but he rebuffs her, "Get lost silly dog".
Poncho really could care less about this new little bitch (Helen), even though she's fun to play with now and then when the mood fills him.
She's generally too rough with him, he's only 7 wee pounds and she a hulking 11 by now, built like a beer barrel. She literally tumbles him over, pulling on his satellite dish shaped ears. He often just gets pissed off enough that he gets himself geared up like the Roadrunner and zooms all over the yard attacking her in a dive-bomb fashion until she rolls onto her back and gives up.
Now she's run back to the house, but not without imagining the hounds of Hell biting her heels again. YIP YIP YIP.
The neighbors are sure to think I'm jamming chopsticks into her and getting ready to shishkabob her for the grill or smoker.
She's crashed head first into the sliding glass patio door, high tails it back out to the yard and heads back out to Jake now.
Jake is our ridiculously stupid blue and gold Yorkie who joined our family on my birthday this year. A good friend graciously allowed me to adopt him, this was while I was looking to adopt Helen.
Little did I know I'd find her soon after getting Jake.
before I knew it we had 3 dogs instead of just one.
(lucky hubby who didn't want ANYMORE dogs).
Jake has 3 brain cells
1 for eating
1 for sleeping
1 for pissing where he's not supposed to in my house.
My good friend sent him home to me before he was neutered, ARGHHHH - I adore her (my friend) but Jake was a retired breeding dog but not retired enough so his Jake-jock was still active and I'm still waiting for his pecker to stop working overtime.
So now I'm so curious, what happens to make a dog turn into a big sissy? I'm looking around the yard and searching for what's different, hmmmm lemme see. we've got 3 new garbage barrels but she doesn't usually walk near that end of the yard. Hell neither do I.
The night before we had opossums in the yard eating out of her snack bowl, she did run out to chase them off but they did not charge her or even hiss as they were young and inexperienced. I haven't seen any snakes. She doesn't have any injuries or burrs in her coat to cause her pain, but she did dig a few holes in the yard.
I'm wondering if she hit a few stones and it was uncomfortable and now when she steps near those holes she is reminded?
However! Cesar (hubba hubba) says dogs live in the moment - so move on dumbass!
This has become tiresome to say in the least because we have a lovely large yard for playing in and yet she's now hanging out on the patio and crapping there. I'm not in the mood to step out onto turdlettes each day. The other 2 canine companions think she's a fool, are out having a romp in the yard and look at her like, "You are a dork!"
This morning I spent 1 hour scrubbing floors, this upcoming weekend I am going to try my hand being Bob Villa and recreating the Potty Patch
pottypatch
The temperatures here in central Texas continue to soar into the 100s. Try as much as I would like to, potty training isn't working for 3 small dogs indoors and so the little shitheads MUST go outside. Poncho has been trained for years - BUT NOW there are 2 extras.
I've just gone out and fashioned little doggy swimming pools from unused cat litter trays (shut up - I'm resourceful) and the 2 that are not paranoid are lounging in their Beverly Hills lagoons, tongues lolling and occasionally lapping up a few cool drinks while Dorko runs to and fro.
She first approaches Poncho and looks to him, he is the veteran doggy in this home. There's askance in her dark brown eyes but he rebuffs her, "Get lost silly dog".
Poncho really could care less about this new little bitch (Helen), even though she's fun to play with now and then when the mood fills him.
She's generally too rough with him, he's only 7 wee pounds and she a hulking 11 by now, built like a beer barrel. She literally tumbles him over, pulling on his satellite dish shaped ears. He often just gets pissed off enough that he gets himself geared up like the Roadrunner and zooms all over the yard attacking her in a dive-bomb fashion until she rolls onto her back and gives up.
Now she's run back to the house, but not without imagining the hounds of Hell biting her heels again. YIP YIP YIP.
The neighbors are sure to think I'm jamming chopsticks into her and getting ready to shishkabob her for the grill or smoker.
She's crashed head first into the sliding glass patio door, high tails it back out to the yard and heads back out to Jake now.
Jake is our ridiculously stupid blue and gold Yorkie who joined our family on my birthday this year. A good friend graciously allowed me to adopt him, this was while I was looking to adopt Helen.
Little did I know I'd find her soon after getting Jake.
before I knew it we had 3 dogs instead of just one.
(lucky hubby who didn't want ANYMORE dogs).
Jake has 3 brain cells
1 for eating
1 for sleeping
1 for pissing where he's not supposed to in my house.
My good friend sent him home to me before he was neutered, ARGHHHH - I adore her (my friend) but Jake was a retired breeding dog but not retired enough so his Jake-jock was still active and I'm still waiting for his pecker to stop working overtime.
So now I'm so curious, what happens to make a dog turn into a big sissy? I'm looking around the yard and searching for what's different, hmmmm lemme see. we've got 3 new garbage barrels but she doesn't usually walk near that end of the yard. Hell neither do I.
The night before we had opossums in the yard eating out of her snack bowl, she did run out to chase them off but they did not charge her or even hiss as they were young and inexperienced. I haven't seen any snakes. She doesn't have any injuries or burrs in her coat to cause her pain, but she did dig a few holes in the yard.
I'm wondering if she hit a few stones and it was uncomfortable and now when she steps near those holes she is reminded?
However! Cesar (hubba hubba) says dogs live in the moment - so move on dumbass!
5 days...hurry up already its been 5 days
WRITE, these are the demands made of me by my husband.
I can't believe that of all the people I know, it's my husband demanding that I write another blog. Wait one minute, yes I can.
All of the years we've been together, some married & some not ...(Oops! Sinners beware!) he has hounded me to write, to paint, to sketch to do something creative with my noodle. He calls it "Talent"
Personally, I don't get it; I don't FEEL creative (pinching fleshy arm). Rather I am just a wordy person and sometimes lucky enough to put an image to papers and sometimes able to squish play-dough into the shape of a critter or even able to snap a photograph that's appealing to others eyes, though not with any fancy schmancy equipment.
Creative though? nahhhh!
Heck I thought my creativity in the kitchen was more than ample enough. Our waistlines are ample which is indication. Tonight's fare, chicken Marsala for him which makes me want to puke up a lung, I am not a fan of fungus (mushrooms) yet I tackle all types of recipes that involve touching textures that make me want to wretch.
So that brings me to this point, brain is on lock down - what shall I blog about my pretties?
I can't believe that of all the people I know, it's my husband demanding that I write another blog. Wait one minute, yes I can.
All of the years we've been together, some married & some not ...(Oops! Sinners beware!) he has hounded me to write, to paint, to sketch to do something creative with my noodle. He calls it "Talent"
Personally, I don't get it; I don't FEEL creative (pinching fleshy arm). Rather I am just a wordy person and sometimes lucky enough to put an image to papers and sometimes able to squish play-dough into the shape of a critter or even able to snap a photograph that's appealing to others eyes, though not with any fancy schmancy equipment.
Creative though? nahhhh!
Heck I thought my creativity in the kitchen was more than ample enough. Our waistlines are ample which is indication. Tonight's fare, chicken Marsala for him which makes me want to puke up a lung, I am not a fan of fungus (mushrooms) yet I tackle all types of recipes that involve touching textures that make me want to wretch.
So that brings me to this point, brain is on lock down - what shall I blog about my pretties?
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