Werewolf in Bama

Not a real post...something I meant to share with you guys in passing a while back...Going through the pictures in my phone I found this:

 

 

I took this picture sometime last month (October, of course) at a local restaurant here in town.

 

I have some questions.

 

1. Where does one go to purchase an effeminate werewolf cut-out?  I can't believe it was bought locally, because, Hello! This is Alabama.

 

2. Why does one purchase an effeminate werewolf cutout?  It's Halloween....time for scary stuff.  This dude is frightening no one.

 

3. Seriously, jazz hands?

 

 

Wonder Woman vs. The Swamp Thing

So, with the Hubs back to work full time (Hurray!) there has been a growing backlog of little tasks and errands building up. I decided to take off work a couple of hours early and try to knock some of those out so they would not be a lingering concern for me as I gear up for the holidays.

I headed downtown and picked up a prescription for the kiddo, then my own contact lenses that have been languishing at the optometrist’s for over a week because his office has a really kooky schedule and I can never seem to hit it at the right time. Then I bop on over to Aldi. Because I? Am not only effectual, I am thrifty. I buy the creamer and the hubby’s sodas…those were the pressing needs. Then I go ahead and pick up the ham and the pie ingredients that I will need as my family’s contribution to Thanksgiving. All at low, low prices.

Leaving Aldi, I swing by the vape shop for some supplies (Jeff hasn’t had a cigarette since March! Another yay!) and head to the house to make dinner…which will be delicious. I have marinated turkey tenderloin, sweet potatoes to roast and some Brussels sprouts. Usually, dinner is something that we can throw together in 10-15 minutes because we get home and we are STARVING. But today, I actually have time to put together a nice meal. Right about now? I am feeling like Wonder Woman

I unload the groceries, let the dogs in, and start to prepare my dinner. I have decided to stay dressed in my work clothes since I am looking mighty damn cute today, if I do say so myself. (Eggplant colored sweater dress, funky paisley leggings and studded ankle boots) It’s a little silly, but I want Jeff to see me in this outfit and not in my normal schlepping around the house wardrobe (baggy t-shirt…usually his, no bra, pajama bottoms). So I tie an apron on and get busy fixin’ dinner. (Brief side story…we once had some vendor from England visiting out at my workplace. The receptionist told him that she was about to leave because she had to “carry her daughter to practice and then fix supper.” He was completely flummoxed about what this lady was doing. Apparently, in the Queen’s English, you ‘re only “carrying” something if you are physically lifting it, and you only “fix” something that is broken.)


I get the turkey tenderloin in the oven, peel the sweet potatoes over the sink…then dice them, drizzle a little olive oil and sprinkle them with some bourbon/brown sugar seasoning stuff and pop those in beside the turkey. The brussels sprouts get the same treatment, but with some kind of savory seasoning mixture. I go to the sink to wash down the potato and brussels sprouts scraps…turn on the garbage disposal and…GUSH!!!! Up spouts a geyser of sweet potato peelings and gray, foul smelling liquid. I’m telling you, this fountain of vile spewed up 3 feet, minimum. It went ALL. OVER. MY. KITCHEN. Thank God, all of the food was in the oven and not sitting on any counter space. I have flecks of Brussels sprouts giblets and potato peels in my hair…my cute sweater dress is doused with the disgusting pipe backwash…which is also on the floor, on the counter, on the blinds! Gag! Literally, I am gagging. The smell is horrific. I cut the water and the disposal off…grab some paper towels and do a cursory swipe at anything dripping. I head upstairs and take off my cute (befouled) clothes in the laundry room and grab a pair of yoga pants and a working-around-the-yard T-shirt so that I can go deal with this mess. I’m not feeling so Wonder-Woman-y anymore. I’m feeling more like the Swamp Thing

I know I SMELL like the Swamp Thing. I get two buckets, drag everything out from under the sink…and the door bell rings. It’s our HVAC repair dude (and that’s a story for another post…maybe tomorrow’s). Getting back under the sink, I take the PVC pipes apart from where they attach to the disposal over to the U-joint.

What was in that horizontal run of pipe was unspeakable. The cats ran from it, and they lick their own butts. I took it outside and over to the empty lot and dumped it and rinsed it out. The police have probably had reports of the smell of a dead body by now.

I did somehow manage to put the sink back together, put the under-the-sink items back up (why do I have three bottles of Mop n’ Glow in various levels of empty? I’ve been in this house 9 years and can’t remember using anything but a Swiffer WetJet), clean the cabinets and counter tops (with BLEACH) and make myself more-or-less presentable (at least non-smelly and sans potato peelings) before Jeff got home.

Hey, maybe I am a little bit Wonder Woman.

Something borrowed

My good friend, co-worker and sometimes aider-and-abettor, Jenn, just got married the other day.  This being the second time around the wedding block for both of them, they went to elopement route.
In a vineyard. In Napa Valley. At sunset. Gah!
Yes, they are "that" disgustingly perfect couple...and if I didn't love 'em so much and if they each hadn't had to wade through Crap River for years to find each other I'd have to hate them. But they did have to go through some mighty shitty circumstances to finally find each other...so I'll let them have their picturebook wedding (literally, I bet the vineyard uses these two in their advertisements) without being TOO snarky.
Of course, leading up to the actual nuptials got a little nerve wracking...especially for Jenn.  Since the two of them were like a house a'fire for each other, they had not allowed a lot of flash-to-bang time between the engagement and the wedding.  And that meant that the dress was of imminent concern.  Jenn had ordered a couple of dresses off of Amazon (not being your typical twenty-something bride with a 300 headcount church wedding meant she could go a little non-traditional).  When the dresses came in, she loved one of them...but it was WAY off on the sizing. (Have I mentioned Jenn is a tall blonde of runway model proportions? Bitch.)  She sent it back, ordered what she hoped was the right size and then was frantically looking for "Dress B".  The perfect dress had to be remade and then put on a slow boat from China.
The royal couple (as we took to calling them) was leaving for the West Coast in 10 days...my normally calm, cool and collected friend started to get a little wild-eyed look about her.  When she wasn't trying to get a bead on her dress through international package tracking, she was looking for a back-up dress.  And getting more and more distraught.
Finally, as a JOKE, I told her that she was more than welcome to borrow my wedding dress...as it was hanging in my upstairs closet even as we spoke.  And I sent her pictures of me in my wedding dress in all of my 1990 glory.
Travel back in time with me...back to a time when Madonna "Material Girl" hair ruled the world and the people believed that EVERYTHING, including bathrobes and wedding dresses needed shoulder pads:

Now, I ain't gonna lie...I'd probably be willing to perform unmentionable acts to have that figure back (except, apparently, diet and exercise). Even if it is clad in blindingly white satin so slick that I couldn't sit down in that dress without almost sliding out of the chair. But you do not even want to guess at the amount of Aqua Net it took to get my eternally straight hair to acquire that much poof.

 

 

I got this dress at the JCPenney wedding outlet store in Georgia.  I though it was the loveliest thing I had ever laid eyes on. I bought it for $99.

 

 

Finally, I feel we must address the gi-normous poofy sleeves.  What is with those? Am I smuggling severed heads in there?  Are they there to provide a handy place to tuck my bouquet when I need my hands free?  I have no idea.

 

Sadly enough, I did not actually get married in my wedding dress.  Jeff and I had slated an August wedding date...but sometime mid-May the wedding planning, accentuated by my newly-divorced, warring parents got the better of me and I had a complete come-apart.  After getting my sniveling under control Jeff just pronounced: "Screw it.  Pack a bag, we'll get married in Panama City this weekend." Which we did.

 

And my sweet Jenn?  Her dress arrived about 4 days before departure for their elopement/honeymoon.  It's no mandarin-collar-having, severed head-concealing sleeved, shiney white confection of a dress that mine was...but I do admit that it fit her, and the current decade, beautifully.

 

 

Congratulations, you crazy kids!