Tag Archives: blogging

The Moran Elf Project 2012: Watch it, Bucko.

 The little rat bastard is BACK.  Billy Bob Joe…Merry Christmas; come trash my house.

Let’s face it.  He is creepy, snarky and get’s into all my shit.  But he is very loved, intensely anticipated and he is filled with the stuff that makes Moran little-people-memories. So let’s see what the little North pole Juvie has in store for my clan.  Bring it, Elf!

Welcome, Trouble.

Dec 1: Welcome, Trouble.

Those pretzels were for lunches.  Not a good start.  I may send him out to the Jewel to get new snacks ’cause we are not made of money around here, Elf.  Wasteful troll.

Dec 2: State is not for Suckers.  Go Lulu.

Dec 2: State is not for Suckers. Go Lulu.

I was SO pissed off he punched holes in the Cuties with little toothpicks.  Those things are pricey.  I may juice HIM.

Thanks, Billy Bob Joe, for the Mammories.

Thanks, Billy Bob Joe, for the Mammories.

I will make him finish that whole glass.  And if he comes back from his little “check-in visit” from the North Pole tonight and that Oberweiss is not fully consumed, then it will still be waiting for him to finish in the morning.  And the day after that.  And the day after THAT.

Cause Mommy Dearest doesn’t screw around.

pirate1 pirate2 pirate3

Bitch Pirate Barbie strikes again.

apples1I think someone is officially DTF.

fishies

Here fishy, fishy, fishy…..

copy

elfbutt

Too much egg nog at the office party, ya little brat?

jar

Jar-head, busted.

repel 3 repel1 repel2

“Creepy Elf boyfriend, I am falling and I can’t get up!”

“I’LL SAVE YOU!”

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I’m Fine, I’m Fine, No Really, I’m Fine.

This is exciting.  I am an empty day nester!  I cried on and off for the first 2 days and now…I am good.  Cracker, Bambi and Alpha are all nestled into their classrooms and I can rest easy.  Cause like I literally have to rest.  I went to my rheumy yeterday and he actually diagnosed me with exhaustion.  It’s making me twitch.  Full truth, people.  It’s made my RA bad and now my muscles have been effected.  And I have had an eye twitch for 2 weeks.  I am NOT winking at you.  It didn’t help that after singing last night, I couldn’t get to sleep until 2am.  I have a million projects and things to do…a house to scrub…but for today, I need to get rid of this twitch.

And so, for those close friends and family that have been worried about me, I am fine.  I am going to go rest.  But not before I share with you todays Heatherevent:

This all started with my dear friend “Sid”.  I call her that because she has undiagnosed OCD.  I am pretty sure I came up with that name after too much Pinot Grigio, while she was scrubbing my floor on her hands and knees.  She is incredibly thoughtful and she picked up some cream for me at the store the other day when I was feeling ill.  (BTW – “Sid” started this whole nickname thing with calling me “Rah”, making fun of my awful auto-immune crippling disease know as Rheumatoid Arthritis.  Love that bitch because laughter is the best med I take.)  I had this really bad, crazy week where I found myself not being able to have a freaking cup of coffee.  I was starting to get a little obsessed with the absence of it.  And I only drink decaf, which makes the whole scenario a lot more embarrassing.

 First, I was out of coffee, then I was out of cream, then I tried skim and it tasted like poop, then I thought I would drive to Starbucks then I was too sick to drive to Starbucks.  Then my sweet dear friend “Volly” from next door came over and bought me some coffee.  Then I was still out of cream so it just sat there. Then “Sid” eventually came over at some point and brought me 2 small creams, instructing me to put one in the freezer and pull it out the day before you need it.  Her mom always did that, she said and I can verify that her mom knows everything.

HELLO “Sid”, who do you think you are dealing with?  It’s “Rah”.  Like I would ever be organized to plan ahead.

Today, I made a gorgeous pot of coffee and I couldn’t WAIT to enjoy some quiet time on my stoop after the bus left…and I go into the kitchen make THE perfect cup of coffee and I am freaking out of cream.

Now, I know what I am going to do next.  And it’s going to suck because it’s not going to work out well for me at all.   But I do it anyway, because I lie to myself that I am an optimist.  I go into the freezer and I pull out the frozen cream.   Frozen, rock hard, frozen, frozen.  I mean like, take-a-day-to-thaw-a-turkey-frozen.  I dropped it on the counter THUNK and stared at it for a minute or two.  I now have time for this, you know.  I decided  to go get a teeeeeennnyyy weeeeeennny little kid’s knife.  I shoved that little knife in there and I scraped and scraped little tiny shards of frozen cream into my coffee cup.  Plop.  Plop. Plop.  Stir it up….and voila!  Outcome?

I’m going back to bed.

 

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I have misplaced my ability to read…

…it must be around somewhere….I used to be able to read all the time…let’s see….let me get my glasses…oops, don’t know where they are either…probably on my head….nope…darn it all to heck…that’s really a shame because I FINALLY got a copy of the middlemarch book , but upon opening it, I realize it’s typeset is sized for readers the size of…

THUMBELINA

The cover is super pretty, ya’ll….looky….

I finally grabbed a spot on the couch…it was really quiet a beautiful breeze blowing in..kid were upstairs and I had about 20 minutes to spare before getting ready for a fun Friday night out…and I stared at the cover for about 5 minutes.  I kind of got lost in it, really.   I ceremoniously adjusted my head on the couch pillow and started to read the first page.

Miss Brooke had that kind of beauty which seems to be thrown into relief by poor dress.”   Kick-ass first line.  This is going to be good.

Then a wet naked Barbie flew over me on the couch.  Oral bomb noises quickly followed,  and ended with a biff-to-the-forehead noise and an “OUCH-UH!!!”  (That’s a new thing that the girls are doing…adding “uh” to the ends of words.  That’s DUMB-UH, WHAT-UH,  COME ON-UH.   WTF is that?  Look, there is even a FB page for it HERE)

 Then Bambi yelled at Cracker for whipping it at her and they had an apology fight.  “You apologize, no YOU apologize.” Someone please fucking apologize because I have read the first line 5 times.  Then the phone rang.  Then I really tried hard to concentrate and while I was reading the first paragraph, I tried really, super hard to concentrate but then I thought about if I have time to take a shower before we go over to a friends and did Cracker leave her Sonic shake in the car because I will forget about it for a couple of days until it smells and OW!!! I  suddenly got one of those shooting boob pains, what the hell IS that when that happens cause I don’t die from it when it happens but it’s in my boob and I think I need to Google that…READ READ READ, concentrate….I came across words like “frippery” and I really wish I could be reading this on my Kindle so I could hit the word and the definition pops up.  I suddenly realized I am going to need a pocket dictionary.  Hey, look.  I am no chump.  I am no idiot.  I was an English Lit. minor in one of my many colleges I attended.  I done read good.   But it’s been awhile and I have spent the last 12 years reading Highlights Magazines, Mattel Toy Assembly instructions and “Everybody Poops”.  (Great read BTW, highly recommend.)

I got down to about a third of the page and I started to schvitz a little bit.  I flipped back to the end of the book .  746 pages.  That’s a lot less than Volly, my reading project partner.  That’s maybe because my font size is -1pt.  

“The pride of being ladies has something to do with it…”  What is that smell?  What IS that?  Is that a rotten orange?  Shit, I forgot to drop off dress at the dry cleaner and I can do it tomorrow….no I can’t do it tomorrow, what is tomorrow, what do I have tomorrow, OMG why can’t I remember what tomorrow i-FOOTBALL scrimmage, right, then drive Papa and Nana to airport and

Shit…ok….“The pride of being ladies has something to do with it…The Brooke connections, although not slightl-“

I was staring at the words.  I was starting at each individual word, trying to process it.  It actually made me feel like I was going a little bit insane.    I heard a fly and thought of the bad meal we had a a local place this weekend because we ate outside and there were flies everyone and I thought about how they poop on everything and how everyone always freaks out and really, how bad could fly poop be, I mean it’s so small that it’s almost as small as the font size in my book.

Then I really start to ride the procrastination train and I start reading the quotes on the back.  Who does that but people who are procrastinating?  Or bored people pooping on the potty?  Then I read the biggest quote on the back.  I quite literally made me jump up, shove a Bath and Body Works 20% coupon in the book as a marker and run into the office to quit reading forever.

“One of the few English books for grown-ups.”  – Virginia Wolff

I am too busy to read now.  I have to go get that shake out of the car, find the source of the kitchen smell and starting drinking heavily.  Then, when I stumble wasted into bed later tonight and read the first page of my book 12 times, I will at least have a very good excuse.

(I have NEVER even blogged the word “poop” before and I think I used it today about 10 times.  See what a bad influence reading can be to a person?)

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Book #1. Purchase Fail.

For those of you DROOLING and KEENING and WAILING in anticipation for the start of my “1oo Most influential Books Evah” reading/blog project:

Houston, we can’t obtain the first book.  Nice start, idiot.

I ordered “MiddleMarch.”  I really did.  Last Monday from Amazon.com…I promise you, I am not bullshitting.  I waited and I waited and I waited…

-meanwhile-

Volly got her copy from the library sometime around Tuesday or Wednesday, which I should have done, but I owe them money.  (TOTAL EMBARRASSMENT.)

Volly informed me that the book has 801 pages.  SSSHHHWWWWHHHAAAAAAAAAA??????

Innocent enough from the front.

Side View…DOH.

Yesterday, while I was drunk at the Cubbie game, I received this email on my phone from Amazon:

Due to a lack of availability, we will not be able to obtain the following item(s) from your order:

  George Eliot “Middlemarch (Collins Classics)”

We’ve canceled the item(s) and apologize for the inconvenience. If you see a charge for the canceled item, we will refund you within 1-2 business days.”

Suckage.

Then I get a text from Volly and she says, “I finished the book!  Loved it!  (801 freaking pages and she started like 2 days ago.)  Can’t wait for you to read it!  No pressure!  LOL

NO pressure? Shit, man, I still need to GET the friggin’ book.   She’s a rockstar.  That is all.

Oh Man…now I am going to have to push through my hangover and head over to the library with my head down and my checkbook open.

Library Fine Shame.

Next time you hear from me, sometime in Spring or summer of 2013, I will have my first damn book report.  Peace out, bitches.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Heatherevent: A Definition.

 Heatherevent [spelled phonetically, in case you are truly the biggest idiot on the planet: HEH-THER-EE-VENT]: an annoying and stupid occurrence or event that happens to me on a daily basis.

The Goofball in Question.

Here are some past Heatherevent posts from Facebook.  Stupid random shit happens to me.  It’s a wonder that I make it through the day.

 “Today’s Heathervent: I just walked into the laundry room to change out the clothes and an entire industrial strength ginormous jug of detergent was thrown off the washer during the rinse cycle, shattering the top and emptying the entire contents of new bottle onto whole floor of room. Cocktail, please.”

Could Have Been Worse.

“Heathervent of the day: not only were [Thor] and I stupid enough to be the only people to go out to movie and dinner in a snowstorm last night for my birthday; I insisted on wearing high heeled-boots.  Eventually, I slipped two times coming into house and busted finger. Nice.”

Disclaimer. This is not me. I am totally hotter.

“Medieval Heatherevent: what NOT to do when you have a massive horse allergy – forget to move inhaler to new purse and then completely have huge asthma attack in enclosed space with fog and horses running around. Otherwise you may end up outside missing the whole show with about six really cute fireman and paramedics giving you a neb treatment in the parking lot. *sigh*”

“Beach Heatherevent: Great day at the beach with my cousin [Apricot] and friend [Volly].  See that line from the cooler??? You know how hard is is to drag a cooler with wheels on sand? [Alpha] was pulling it and getting a workout so I tried to help him pull. He grabbed a chair I was carrying off of my arm and when it whipped around, he whacked me right on my face…then two seconds later, [Apricot] bent down to help me and whacked me right across the head. True live stooges action. In other news, [Apricot] just took a day full of gorgeous beach pictures with no memory card. Livin’ la vida loca, bitches!”

Image

“The Heatherevent of the day already happened and it’s a doozy. This was back when the guys and I were performing in NYC.   You know the hair iron that TSA stole at the Dullas airport and I practically launched a nationwide Facebook smear campaign because of the erroneous theft? [PianoMan] and [BassMan], remember how I berated every poor employee we ran into at the airport, warning them to not steal ANOTHER $200 hair iron from me? [Nana Toad], remember when I cried and said that nice guys finished last and called the hotel 100 times to check if they found it? Well, looky looky, check out cookie: I just found it. In the side pocket of the garment bag that I just took to NY. It was sitting in there for 7 months. I suck.”

THOSE AREN’T PILLOWS!

“Coffee Heatherevent: I spilled my Starbucks DOWN the front of my dress walking into work tonight. TWICE. Like, right down through the boob canal. I smell like a grande decaf americano. And roses, thanktoyouverymuch. But I don’t think you should buy below above shirt for $85. (REEDONKULOUS) Instead, I will happily sell you my cute baby doll dress for $8.50.   People are suckers. “

Sadly, there are a million more Heatherevents occurring by the second.  Already this morning, [Thor] had to wake me up because I had both my phone charger and ear phones wrapped around my neck like a fetus.  Weeeeee!

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,

New Blog Project. No Runway Needed.

I have blog ADD.

Frankly, I have everything ADD. But that’s besides the stupid point that I am trying to make.

I forget that I have these blogs and how much fun they are to write them.

My dear friend/next door neighbor…I will call Volley (rhymes with Holly) and I, whilst chatting each other up in the backyard over some vino, have make the decision to read all the books on a best seller list.

Stupid drunk bitches.

This is the list we have chosen

It’s a list that the Brits put together, so it’s bound to be tight-assed, but thorough and admittedly correct. God Save the Queen.

They list the books starting at 100 and go down, but we are rebel motherf&*%#rs, so we are going to start at the bottom with number one.

A delightful English novel, written by that Vickie-torian cross-dressing, composer humping, bad ass chick George Eliot. Our goal is to read every novel on the list. With some books on the list, including Ulysses and Dostoyevsky, our goal is to make it at least one-third through the book without wanting to burn it, use it as a weapon or pee on it.

We are very busy people. I myself have somewhere along the lines of 3 to 7 jobs. The first step is to actually get the book. I owe the library too much money because we lost about two movies and a copy of Clifford the Big Red Dog, so I guess I will have to buy it.

Why do I continually drink myself into these situations?

CHALLENGE: Me? I feel the need to blog every breath I take, so I will whore myself out while reading these books, bloggidy-blog style, and post my own Heatherland reviews.

Goal? Start reading by the weekend. (My sub-goal is to actually finish this goal, because if there is one thing I am famous for, it’s my no-follow-through.)

Too bad the kids lost the kindle. Bambi blames Cracker, Cracker blames the “ghost” that the neighbor kid keeps leaving over here after playdates and Alpha is innocent, as usual. The point is, the freaking thing is missing. And it even had the 50 Shades series on it. Now, THAT is some fine literature, no one ever said in the whole world.

Wish me happy reading!

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

The Man I Love Has A Thousand Looks.

Thor is severely hotter than this man.

I was inspired today by a new blog a friend turned me onto…called Momastary…check her out, she is totally brill.

Definitely read her blog post from today…(Aw hell, read them all, she is twelve times the writer I am.)  Anyway, in her latest post, she mentions how her husband gave her a “look”  when she said something to him that he found slightly shocking.  Hey, hey!  I get that look a lot!

Let’s make a case study of that.  (Puts on hot school teacher reader glasses.)  It varies, the look.  If the lips curl on one side, Thor is a touch disgusted by what I say.   There may be an occasional eye squint when he is thinking I am exaggerating the truth.  Which I do a lot.  The eyebrows may jump up at a rapid pace when there might be a sexual overtone.  It’s important to add that his eyebrows are up a great deal of the time.

So I thought, in honor of Momastary’s brilliant blogging and Thor’s distaste of most everything I do or say, I have decided to name a few looks I get from my husband Thor.  Note:  These are LOOKS.  He hardly ever SAYS anything to me that is negative.  He is the nicest of men.  I DRIVE him to internalize and contort his face.  It is really important to point out that Thor is the sweetest, most forgiving and kindest man I have ever met; not to mention the best father.  I just absolutely cannot blame him for thinking he married down.  Most of the time, I am a ridiculous wife.

I don’t have pictures, because (1) I can’t find my camera (2) my phone is dead and I can’t find the charger and (3)he would absolutely catch on if I started taking pictures of him reacting to everything I do.  Your land of imagination is a special place! Use it!

First I will tell you what I said or did, then I will name the special Thor look.  Off to the races:

  • I tell him I went $365 over budget at The Target = The “have-fun-taking-a-shower-in-melted-snow-because-now-the-water-is-going-to-get-shut-off” look
  • I can’t find my keys for the 11th time today and I am shedding actual tears because of it=The “you-are-holding-them-in-your-hand-dufus” look
  • I come home from a gig late night with false eyelashes, slutty makeup and one shoe with a broken heel= the “wanna-do-it?” look
  • He comes home from work in a bad mood and I have neighbors over, we are having a blast, some wine, kids are everywhere, no homework has been done, no birthday party thank-yous have been written, no dinner has been started and every single remaining Christmas present has been opened and is sitting in a pile in the living room floor and someone spilled something on the rug that he hasn’t noticed yet, but now he knows  about it after reading this blog=The “you-just-really-suck-as-a-mother-and-spouse‘ look.  (It’s important to note that this look is followed by my “NON-look” because I refuse to look at him at all for the rest of the night.  This is because I am on strike for him making me feel guilty.  I will set up shop to sleep on the couch, but it’s really uncomfortable, so I wake up at 1:45am with a crick in my neck and a Cheetos stuck in my hair.   I peek in the mirror and give myself a look called, “you-freakin’ idiot” and I slink up into bed.   It’s called projection, people.)
  • And finally, the ever alluring, I wrote this blog and published it so everyone we know can read it = The you-are-dead-to-me-and-lawyer-up” look.  (I will be expecting this look to walk in the door today around 4:45pm.)

Special mention looks worth adding are stares like “how-many-old-boyfriends-did-you-HAVE?”, “that’s-not-what-the-screwdriver-is-for”, “where-in-the-hell-is-my-brush-again”, “my-mother-was-right” and one of my personal favorites, the “there-is-something-really-really-wrong-with-you-please-get-help.”

One of these days, I am going to haul ass and give the look back.

Watch it, bucko.

Just kidding.  Cause for every look that I get, I have given him 500.  There is no doubt that I wear the bitch in the family.  I love Thor.  Hope he loves me back.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

One-Armed Wrapping Doesn’t Have To Be Lonely…

I apologize the for low quality of this photo. Perhaps you will forgive me, since I only have ONE WORKING ARM.

I blame Love’s frozen yogurt.  You chilly,swirly bastard.

I was with Cracker yesterday, just leaving an appointment and I saw a sign that had this retro international symbol of awesomeness…

"Open to the public!"

I totally slammed on the breaks and did a U-ey…man, I used to love that stuff!  Where has it been??? The whole Frozen Yogurt Movement!!  It used to be all over the place…wasn’t it?  Am I crazy?  I mean, I think the last time I had one, I was wearing a Bosom Buddies t-shirt.  I kept on telling Cracker it was ice cream, hoping that it wasn’t going to taste like crap.

It was inside of a workout facility for seniors and they were trying to promote the “healthy” vibe in there.   When we walked out, some old lady actually asked Cracker if she just finished working out.  Cracker giggled adorably and said “no”.  And the lady said, in all seriousness, “then you don’t deserve to have that”.  I seriously, seriously almost bitch-slapped her.  Seriously.

So, you remember, you can twist that all up together…two flavors…remember that????  So I got a french vanilla, just for nostalgia-sake, and some sugar free/fat free pepermint.  Holiday party in.my.tummy, ya’ll!

HELLO, SELF, you idiot.  I am allergic to anything NOT PURE.  There is nothing that is pure in a sugar free/fat free yogurt.  Like, what IS IT?  And it kinda tasted like peppermint baby vomit.  But I ate it in defiance.  The whole freaking thing.  I could hear Cracker in the back seat, going “ew” a couple of times, but I think she ate it in defiance, too.  In defiance of what, I am not certain, but has a tenancy to run a little surly.

It took about 30 minutes before I started to feel “THE TWINGE” in my left shoulder.  It can be any joint.  My immune system likes to change it up and leave me guessing.  “THE TWINGE” is quickly followed by the voice in my head saying “Uh oh.  ‘THE TWINGE.’  I will be virtually lame within an hour.”  By the time we finished errands and I am rushing home to teach a lesson, I could barely steer.  On goes the sling.  I really need to bling that thing up.

After dinner, I realize that I have to get my nieces’ gifts in the mail, wrapped, so they can be delivered in time for Christmas.  I annually SUCK at all things having anything to do with Christmas deadlines, but  “As God is my witness…not this year!” she says, holding up a radish to the skies…

Look, she only has one arm, too.

Now, I had my arm in a sling, not because it’s frozen, but because if I move it a cillimeter of a millimeter of an eigth of an inch, shooting daggers of pain whip up my arm, through my shoulder and stab my brain.  So, I just try not to move it.

Thor sweetly offered to help, but he was busy helping Alpha finish the project at the last minute that he had TWO WEEKS TO DO BUT DON’T GET ME STARTED.  Cracker was off somewhere having her Barbie’s kiss and hug ’cause that’s her newest thing and Bambi is running around the house like the quadruped Turkish tribe who walks on all fours.  We are strange, yo.

So I had to wrap all these presents.   Bambi eventually returned to Bipedalism and offered to help.  She actually got really excited and put on Christmas music.  She said, with kind of a maniacal and over-caffeinated look in her eyes, “This is great, you guys, I feel like an only child!!!”  *Sigh*  I love her.

And I was thinking while we were doing it, every crease, every fold, every piece of tape thrown on there and the bow, Lord of the RINGS, the bow…all of it was literally made very slowly, painfully and with a helluva lot of love.  And in the end, with all three of us together, Thor and I agreed on one thing:  a nice wrapping job, done well and with care, is definitely part of the present 😉

And I will NOT be accepting Love’s frozen yogurt gift certs this year, thankyouverymuch.

(And you can only imagine how long it took me to type up this post with only 4 fingers from my right hand.  Love, people; that’s love.)

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Because Everyone Else’s Elf Jumped Off the Shelf…

Meet Billy Bob Joe, the Moran Elf.

Rambunctious, sassy, creative, good in the kitchen, at times aloof and always the first to draw out a giggle, Billy Bob Joe delights our family every morning with another witty hiding place.  Here are some highlights so far in the Moran 2011 Christmas holiday season….

Hurry! Time for WGN Morning News!

Elf jazz. Dig it.

Who Stole the Cookie From the Cookie Jar?

Elves get THIRSTY.

Elfmlette Anyone?

MadElfLibs

Prince Ken's Utter Devastation...

Come ON dude, what a mess!

Oh, Billy Bob Joe, key parties are soooo 1973.

Movie Night!

Baby, It's cold Inside the fridge, ya freak.

The Games Elves and Barbies Play When The Cat's Away...

Unfortunately, you can't see that Prince Ken has safari hot shorts halfway up his thighs.

Is it WRONG?

The Elf Jar: Dude, that's gotta hurt.

Thank You Billy Bob Joe for all the daily giggles and excitement…

More Elf mischief coming soon…Happy Holidays….

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Falsies at a Children’s Dance Rehearsal…

Mine were not this long.

…don’t really work.

At least that is what I was thinking when all the other moms were talking to me this morning at the tech rehearsal for Cracker’s holiday dance show tonight.  They pretended not to notice that I looked like a washed-out 60 year old hooker on a 4 day bender.  I found that rather gallant of them.  Especially because I think the falsies were a little crooked.  I still had some of my makeup on from last night.  I am just glad they actually stayed on my eyes.  Once, I woke up with one of them stuck to my cheek.  At first I thought it was my old cat Emma licking me on the face, but then I realized I didn’t have a cat anymore.   *Blink*Blink*

I had a TON of makeup on last night for my show. We ended up staying at my moms after a last minute detour on the way home from Cabaret Club to the Redhead Piano bar.  That place is aces.  So it was a late, late night, I mean morning.  We just crashed when we got home, knowing we would have to wake up in 4 hours to head back home for the rehearsal. I usually take everything off and wash my face, etc, but sometimes, I am just too drunk.  There, I said it.  Just kidding, sometimes I’m too tired. Sometimes, I just don’t care.  Sometimes, I rip those falsies off after a gig and leave them on the kitchen counter.  I disgust even myself.

But let me ask you, where does the makeup GO?  I think I heard that it gets absorbed in the skin.  Ew!  Is that true?  I mean, if that’s true, don’t you think we have to be more careful about what it’s made of and what we are actualy putting in our bodies? (This, coming from the woman who just put an Egg McMuffin, of which she is allergic to, in her body.  Have you SEEN the FB viral McDonald’s chicken video?   I shutter.)  I am thinking that if you are going to be putting makeup on your face that is going to eventually oooozzzeee into your pores, you might at well make it fun.  Aha!  Let’s start a new makeup line!  Like pomegranate-infused vodka foundation or Skinny Girl Cosmo eyeshadow.

I love this stuff. Let's make an eyeliner out of it.

I think I have also heard somewhere that some crazy party renegades actually put vodka in their eyes to get a buzz.  Whoa, dude. That’s extreme.  I like my cocktail on the rocks with a swizzle stick and not mixed with my falsies and a touch of  mascara.

Hey, it just occurred to me. You do know that when I say falsies, I mean fake eyelashes and not boobs, right?  I did not go to Crackers dance rehearsal this morning with fake boobies on my eyes.  Just wanted to make sure you got that.

So, I was saying that I had all this makeup on for my show that I did last night.  The show that we did for my husband.  And 4 family members.  And one guy who looked at his watch and mumbled every 16 seconds.  Did I mention this?  Oh, you guys, this weekend at the Cabaret Club.  Rock bottom, ya’ll.  Really strange.  Really surreal.  Really humbling, annoying and eye-opening.  Did I mention expensive?  I think the cherry on top was having to pay $750 out of my own pocket to cancel one night and do the show for my mom the next night.  That’s ok.  It was just the entire Santa money for my kids this year.  Hey, maybe Alpha, Bambi and Cracker would be okay to find under the tree Cabaret Club cocktail napkins, a semi-opened mint from the bottom of my purse and olives on a toothpick.  Cause that’s all I got left.  We will figure something out,we always do.  I married my hero and together we will save the day.  Or rob a bank.  Ironically next week I will be doing the same show for hundreds of people who will love the hell out of it.  I don’t know. Life is a total goof job.

Whatever.  You know, I needed this.  It was like a really expensive wake-up call. I really think that I am ready to move on from performing and concentrate more on the things I love…my family, my friends, my home, teaching, cleaning my pantry, not being a cripple…really put focus on the important things in life.  Like the most precious moments:  watching Cracker tonight as she tap, tap, taps like a beautiful dancing happy smiling penguin right into my heart.  That right there, folks, is what it’s all about.

Tap, tap, tap…Tap, tap, tap…Tap, tap, tap…

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
%d bloggers like this: