Random Chaseisms

Overheard at a table in Applebee's (way too loud) .... "Can we stop talking about VAGINAS?"

This morning... "I dreamt of lemons. I wanted to buy them and you wouldn't let me. You should let me do things in my own dreams."

Also this morning... "Why don't you like sharks? Because they bite? I bet Daddy could beat up a shark if it bit you."

Recently.... "Why are you such a little mom? You can't be the boss when you are so little."

Yesterday... "You should not kiss Daddy. He is stinky. You should only love the little and cute ones in the house."

And my recent fave... "Mommy, you are beautiful as butter. Wait. I mean a butterfly."

Thrift Store Thursday!

Bet you thought I disappeared. Or maybe hoped I did?

But like Rachel from BB 12...

"I'm back, b*tches!"

OK, OK, I know that is not Rachel. But it is close, no?

Clearly, she is not my favorite on the show.

Speaking of these...

...how about some thrift store fun?

Cute little Amish kid?

Or homage to psycho freak Isaac from Children of the Corn? You decide.

Now, seriously, who is going to buy this?

Why, this lady right here.

She was seriously hovering over me as I was taking the picture and POUNCED on the Angel Soft, well, angel the minute I stepped away. I feel quite sure I overheard "score!" under her breath. Yeah, you sure snagged that from me, sister. You win. I have a feeling if I would have picked it up, she would have beat me about the head and neck with one of her filthy Crocs. I just wasn't willing to risk it, even for art such as that.

Even Jesus can't believe the heinousness of that painting.

And in conclusion...

I am happy to announce that I was finally able to complete my collection of "Urines of the World". You can't imagine how hard it was to find the rare "PA Rehab Ex-Con" specimen. Yesssssssssss!

Thrift Store Thursday...It's Baaaaaaaack!

Did ya miss me?

Ya missed me, ya missed me, now ya gotta kiss me!

OK, I am a little punchy. Blame it on the 100 degree plus weather and a day of Chuck E Cheese and Toy Story 3. I do be FRIED, friends.

But I also managed a thrift store trip. Woot!

Let me say that I scoured the NC thrift stores while vacay-ing in NC. My nieces were excited to help me search out the crap (Hi Kay-Kee and Bug!) but alas, no crap was found. I guess NC'ers either a. have no crap, or b. like their crap and keep it.

But I am back in Pennsyltucky, and (What? The hell you say...?) there are loads of crap here. Buttloads.

Witness...

It is an animal... type... thing....yeah. And it is made of....shells. Surely a one of a kind craptastic creation!

But as I walked along the back wall, lo and behold...

The OCD in me was tempted to walk it back across the store to pair it to its mate, but then I thought to myself, hey, self, nobody needs two of those. I mean, dang, that is too greedy. There are not enough shell animals to go around, people. Let's make it a limit of one per customer.

Now, I ask you, why the hell is this woman so happy? I can honestly say that in my 30-plus years of vacuuming experience, not once have I felt such joy when doing this task that I had to throw out my arm in a Broadway-esque pose and say "ta da!" She has such a look of pure bliss on her face as well. And to think, these were the days BEFORE Prozac. She has either been hitting the sauce, or is super-jazzed about cleaning her groovy sunken living room. My bet is on the consumption of many, many Harvey Wallbangers.

And while Betty Jean was busy tidying up before the Mister came home from a hard day at the office, little Lisa was busy whipping up brownies, courtesy of a powder packet, water, and a light bulb...

Note that the little pink box says "Child tested since 1965" and from the looks of this package, that would have been just one short year ago. Yes, they were actually selling this. But hey, a little botulism is a small, small price to pay for a nostalgic trip down memory lane.


This, I love. This, I almost bought. It is sort of the grouch's answer to a welcome sign. I like the no-nonsense approach. It is kind of like, "Hey, good to see you! Come in, sit a spell! And if you act like a bitch I will throw you right out!"

But I thought it might send the wrong message. Seeing as how my husband likes to tell me I can be abrasive, I guess I should go with a cheery Welcome! sign instead.

And, by the way, to said husband, when he calls me abrasive, I tell him to kiss my ass.

What...? Is that wrong?

He loves me, but...

There is nothing like the little kid climbing in bed with me in the morning for some cuddles.

This morning he slipped under my blanket and wrapped his arms around my neck. "Mom. Mommy. You 'wake?"

"Mmmmm..."

"You the most byootiful mommy. I'm always gon to stay with you."

"That is sweet, bud."

"I always gon hug and kiss you. I always gon love you."

Now I am good and awake. "I love you, too, baby boy."

"Mom. Never mind. You need to brush your teeth."

Fickle little brat.

Random Sundayisms

...and I think I shall speak of myself in Third Person, 'cause I am just feelin' sassy (obnoxious) today.

Tracy thinks:

1) ...that in her next life, she wants to be a cat. Not some random scagged out stray, but a pampered puss. The fatter they get, the cuter they get, and they do a lot of resting in the sun. Attitude is expected and tolerated. You also have help that brings you food and keeps your "bathroom" clean. Downside is that you lick yourself to bathe, but the tradeoff seems minor.

2) ...that a screening of "Fatal Attraction" should be required for any man applying for a marriage license. Just watched it again, and that is one scary bitch.

3) ...that it is damn funny when the four year old accidentally says something racy. Case in point, yesterday he exclaimed, "Now, where is that hooker?" while trying to find the latch hook-thingie on his bicycle helmet.

4) ...that she can do laundry all fah-reaking day long, and there is always something in the hamper to wash. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? It is like some sort of evil magic trickery.

5) ...that Junior High drama doesn't necessarily stay in Junior High. As some men seem to not mature past about 12 years old, neither do many women, I am finding.

6) ... that she loves her Kindle. And this confirms Book Nerdiness. And this is okay with her.

7) ... that people who leave the "t" sound out in words like "Martin" should be slapped. Hard. Same goes for those who insist on using the word "conversate".

8) ... that Red Bird candy sticks just might be the world's most perfect food. And that Jonathan Rhys-Meyers might also be the same.

9) ... that super-gluing the toilet seat in the down position is looking better and better every day.

10) ...that these would be perfect t-shirts to get Dave for Baby-Daddy Day. Only I would be afraid he would actually wear them.

And finally...

11) ... the oil gusher that is driving shrimp and crab prices up may cause us to cancel the 3rd Annual H Shrimp and Crab Feast. This will also cause cancellation of my annual drunken jackass picture that I take of me and Dave. But, but, but...it's TRADITION!

Because you know you want to see more of this.

Adventures in swimsuiting...

...or "How Not To Spend Your 41st Birthday".

Turning 41 is sort of like stubbing your toe. It is not tragic, like say, turning 40, but does make you want to yell out, "GAH! Son of a.....ugh....mother f....." You know, like when you kick the corner of your dresser in the night when you get up to pee in the dark. Hurts, but not life-altering.

So, what to do on your forty-first birthday?


First off, I annoyingly insisted to everyone that I was changing my name to "Tracy QuatroUno" for the day, and they must refer to me as such.


Now what? Hmmm.....mani, pedi, maybe a massage...? Oh, I KNOW!


Get a mammogram and then go try on swimsuits. Yesssssssssssss! *fistpump*


Or at least that is what I did. I mean, you can do something dull and boring like go to dinner, have drinks with friends, or go out clubbing. *Yawn.*

The mammy was a follow up appointment on my right girl so it was only a one-sided boob squish. Still, not all that fun.


The real fun followed when I had the BRILLIANT idea to go try on bathing suits. Oh, frolic and joy.


Let me say that the bikini days are probably over. Yeah, that. Just leave out the "probably". So I moved on to trying on one-piece ensembles. Sort of eeeeasing myself into the old lady one piece Hawaiian-print swimdress look.

The first one I tried was a cute little purple number:

And hell to the no, I am not posting a picture of myself in above-referenced suit. Suffice it to say, I looked somewhat like this:

After trying on a few (and throwing each one to the floor in disgust in toddler-tantrum fashion 'cause I can be really mature that way), I finally decided on a tankini. Yes, I am aware that horizontal stripes are pretty much a no-no, but this was a suit I didn't hate/want to shred/pour lighter fluid on/dance around fire, chanting, "I win, I win, I win!"

Maybe I ought to just join one of those religions where they only wear "modest" swimsuits.

Club Bebe

Apparently, there's a party goin' on up in hurr.

A new sign appeared on the boys' door this morning...

What do you mean you can't read it? Come on now, it is clear as mud. Let me help here.

This is apparently the entrance to "Club Deth" and if you are smart, you will heed the "Do Not Enter" warning, complete with several skulls and crossbones. Watch out, too, 'cause this joint is "gardid". Probably by a couple of sawed off "gards".

To which, I said, "Um, Hunter, say what?"

And he tells me, "Mom, it is not really a club of deth. That is just to scare off people we don't want in our room."

(Duh.)

"...and if someone wants to come in, they have to sign in on the paper. If we don't want them in there, we will just cross them off."

You will note that both Hunter's and Chase's names are at the top. Well, being owners and "gards" and all...

And my name is labeled "VIP" at the top left corner. (PS, Mom, really, you should have just spelled my name with an "e" in it ferpete'ssake. My 5 year old even thinks that is how it is spelled.)

So far, sadly, Dad has not made the cut.

I think they just let me in for the laundry and nightly turn down service. You don't want to piss off the help, after all.