Monday, October 31, 2011

Have you ever spanked your Chauffeur?

Just when you think you've been a pretty good parent - aside from a few setbacks - someone has to show you up by bragging at the liquor store about their 9-year-old kid who can drive.

Where have I gone wrong? I was so caught up in her grades and social life, I completely forgot one of the basic needs on this planet. DRIVING Her momma home from a night out. I've been putting her on the bus at 7 a.m. everyday, while I dart off to Super Hero training. As it turns out - all this time she could have been hitting the snooze button and chauffeured her own pigtails and nursery rhymes a couple of miles down the road for her scholarly upbringing.

Well I haven't failed completely as a mother. For example, one evening Big Red, BFF and I had a hankering for some wine and cheese. However instead of patronizing the wine dump that actually has both of the above mentioned items, we chose to go to a locale offering the grander selection of grape swill - even though they clearly have an adversity to supporting the dairy industry.

Therefore this requires packing up a few things to satisfy Big Red and BFF's lactic cravings. As my loving little heiress observed from across the breakfast bar, I began to pack a dazzling Arthur Court cheese tray, several cheese cutters, napkins and other snooty accoutrement before heading out to the market for the assortment of snacks.

Upon my arrival to our favorite bottle shop, we began to set the table with the carefully selected items from my bag of tricks, only to find at the bottom of the bag a little something my daughter contributed to the picnic - A BIBLE. Maybe she can't drive, but she packs a powerful sense of humor.

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Friday, October 21, 2011

Is it Wrong to Pay for the Services of Hot Men?

What's a dinner without a few laughs and insults? I'll tell you what it is - a Church pot luck. I don't know about you, but "said" event for me is like holy water to a vampire. I disappear into a pile of ashes. Now I feel compelled to enlighten you on our recent dinner at "Not a size 4 Anymore," BFF's McMansion. And by the way she was greeted in her home by one of the male guests with a "You look great!!! You're hardly showing." To which she replied, "Oh thank God, because I had the baby THREE months ago."

Our bevy of hosts for the evening included a doctor, a dentist and a casino mogul - all of whom... wait for it.... own Wineries. You say, how do you land such wonderful and talented people to entertain you? I say, the old fashioned way. We buy them. You've read my blog - we don't have any friends. I couldn't believe how fortunate we were to have a doctor in the house for our emergency. Oh nobody choked. But Big Red and I need Malaria drugs for our upcoming Brazilian experience.

Not the strip me bald Brazilian - all you need is a little sedative for that. No, we applied for Visas and for reasons unbeknownst to us, the Brazilian Government actually approved them. So after indulging in, and fawning over the doctor's fancy grape juice, I asked the man I met only an hour before - if he wouldn't love to write up a couple of Malaria prescriptions. Oh, you have your pad in the car? Oh I couldn't impose. Oh, it's not a bother to call the CDC at 9 p.m. and find out what type of Malaria drugs we actually need? Oh great. Thanks Doc.

Then after a steady diet of wines from Ferrari-Carano; Arger-Martucci; and Carrefour - Mr. Casino Mogul decided we weren't drinking enough. This Super Hero was going slow due to the imposition of having to drive an actual vehicle off the premises at the end of the evening.

So Casino mogul relieved yours truly of driving duty and called his limo driver - to lift the burden of my anesthetized future. Yeah the food was good too, whatever. You don't buy Winemakers for their culinary prowess. You buy them because they are HOT and can pour liquid.

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Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Belching is the new Runner's High

I loathe invites to six-course dinners. It's not the invite so much as the prep work in anticipation of such an event with which I have the problem. The day begins with waking up, which is very taxing in and of itself - then I must search for clean gym clothes, or the cleanest dirty gear in the pile.

Then there are the goals I must set before arriving at the gym. Such as, don't puke, don't trip, and scan the cardio room for signs of life before employing my diaphragm with the grandest burp of all. Hey, excreting air from my gut is my euphoria while running. I don't know anything about that runner's high folks talk about. The moment grape juice hit my palate - runner's high took a backseat and those doors are locked.

As you have detected, if I am to indulge in a multi-course gourmet meal - I must burn a gazillion calories which takes a lifetime on the treadmill. And then post workout, I can only consume water, an apple and any particles of food that drop from my teeth while flossing. If you just lost your appetite, then all I can say to you is, "You're welcome." You do realize anorexia is for weight loss, and Bulimia is solely for maintenance, right? Once again, Big Red's prep is a little different. You'll find her in the horizontal position with a gaggle of women in some sweat shop next to a burger joint.
(To the left is BFF's sister, Big Red, BFF and Moi.)

So this fabulous dinner will be hosted at our BFF's McMansion. She has the legs of a gazelle, and on any given day is typically a size 4. However she's recently extracted a bun from her oven. Yeah, whatever, congrats she now has baby boy. BTW I've decided there are enough of this particular gender in the world. I move we place a moratorium on birthing boys until they figure how to treat the females who are currently inhabiting the earth.

Anyway, Big Red and I have never been more excited to be in "Not a Size 4 Anymore's" presence. What? Yeah I said it. But remember I write this blog to make ME feel better. And yes I do still have friends. I can count them all on four fingers. And to be fair, we only have a small window of opportunity to wallow in her misery, because BFF has some sort of magical baby fat melting powers I've never understood. Dinner blog coming next. And with it - you will see I'm not the only person lacking in the TACT department.

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Monday, October 3, 2011

Big Red is nothing, if not consistent.

As you all know I took a little time off from the drama of dating to focus on... something. I don't know what. As you can see I'm sharply in-tune now. However, it has been a point of contempt for Big Red, because she just couldn't believe I could just throw in the towel. She thought I had lost my mind. She'd say, "Well I still believe in love." And I don't doubt that, because she married and divorced the same man twice. Hey, when you poke yourself in the eye, don't you repeat the process just to make sure it was THAT needle that provoked the injury?

Anyway, 365 days has come and gone, and I put on my big girl britches and accepted a "date." When I broke the news to Big Red, you should have seen her face. Well it actually looked exactly the same as it did moments before, but I blame that on her recent trip to the facial filler specialist.

However, if she could have moved her face it might have resembled that of a baby who just lost her pacifier, or in her case lost her new Victoria Secret boob job. She couldn't whip her phone out fast enough to check the calendar. Her words, "Wooah, wait, when? Because I know you're really busy. I'm not sure you have time." What I do love about BR is at least she's consistently unsupportive, whether I'm dating or I'm not. As you can see from the photo, she's handling it very well.

Oh and the date went off without a hitch in my giddy-up last night, and I attribute that to Big Red's global position of approximately 450 miles away from any restaurant in Northern Nevada.

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Big Red's middle name is "dedication."

During this venture to Super Herodom, Big Red and I stop at nothing to find the meal ticket to allow ourselves high consumption rates of food and beverage and still mold these ancient vessels into some semblance of a fleet on which the King, (any King, oh who am I kidding a court Jester at this point) would set sail. I've found there is something to the old adage "you have to put more out than you take in," has its merits. So I've started putting out more. Running!!! I've been running on a hamster wheel, and guess what? I loathe it. Surprise surprise. Big Red just puts out more. It's working for her too, and her skin has cleared up.

No not really. No one has actually given her the opportunity to - or I'm sure she'd be committed to the task. For instance, I was astounded the day, (Sept. 5 - remember this date) she announced she will practice as a Presbyterian. I had to ask after all her years of Catholicism, why the sudden change. She looked at me perplexed and went on about how she will only eat veggies and fish til the end of the month. This immediately explained the newfound religion of Pescatarian. While very similar to Presbyterian, fearing God isn't actually mandatory to practice as a Pescatarian.

And her dedication to this amazing turnabout is undeniable. I mean starting on Sept. 5 and committing to such a healthy lifestyle for 25 whole days. Who is she? Mother Teresa? I'm not worthy. As you can see, Champagne will not be left behind on this new endeavor.

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