Category Archives: bawdy little monkey

Wiping up the competition

Posted on by
2

Here I sit let­ting my tuchus get wider as I peruse and amuse (myself) on Twit­ter and Face­book — simul­ta­ne­ously. The tele­vi­sion is on Life­time. Will and Grace reruns. I am being amused thricely!

Any­who, a com­mer­cial came on for Charmin toi­let tis­sue. It hit me. The mar­ket­ing for the prod­uct relies solely upon it not leav­ing those itty bitty bits of TP on your furry butt. Cute? Gross?

charmin bears Wiping up the competition

Ain’t so subtle.

My favorite in the not-so-discreet cat­e­gory is the bush trim­ming razor.

May­haps if peo­ple with hairy butts used this Schick Quat­tro Trim Style they’d have less toi­let paper build up.

    I’m a Housewives Junky!

    Posted on by
    1

    I admit it. I get more than my share of real­ity TV weekly. Oh, surely you are sur­prised by that given the intel­lec­tual posts you’ve read thus far. Heh! There is some­thing about the train wreck qual­ity that pulls me in. Yes, I real­ize there are more impor­tant things that could be done with my time. Please, do not judge me. Guilty plea­sures give bal­ance to an oth­er­wise daunt­ing world. If it is any con­so­la­tion to your con­cern about my brain mat­ter ooz­ing from my ears, I have read the works of Jane Austen and take delight in the His­tory Channel.

    The fol­low­ing par­ody was stum­bled upon while search­ing for another Sat­ur­day Night Live clip fea­tur­ing a chant­ing woman … song sim­i­lar to the theme from The Omen (which is cur­rently on AMC for their Fear Fest lead­ing up to Hal­loween). Such music can make any­thing appear fright­en­ing. That was going to be my point in what was meant to be my orig­i­nal post today. I couldn’t find it. Clearly my search skills are lim­ited. How­ever, this just made my day. The women of SNL take on the style of Real House­wives with Bravo’s Andy Cohen. I lurve him!

      Parting of ways

      Posted on by
      Reply

      Net­flix, it may be time for a divorce. Your new release disc avail­abil­ity has always been a thorn in my side. You made life hell for Block­buster until they col­lapsed, but you won’t pres­sure me into bank­ruptcy. I shouldn’t have had to wait weeks to see The Hang­over. When I say weeks I mean 2 months.

      Soon you’ll take funds from my account. For what? Notice that the newly released film that I want has “a very long wait” and you’ll send me the next selec­tion on my list which ends up being choice #5 which I com­pletely for­got was on my list and is now, prob­a­bly for a lim­ited time, avail­able for stream­ing. That will piss me off even more. Oh sure, I could keep a con­stant watch over my queue and rearrange things, but wouldn’t it be eas­ier if you had greater num­bers of new releases avail­able to the pay­ing public?And quite frankly, I have other things that take prece­dence over being OCD with Net­flix. Enough with the game playing.

      The other thing that cranks my gears is that you’re a tease. One week a movie that I like is avail­able for stream­ing. How­ever, I’m unable to watch it and fig­ure that the fol­low­ing week on my day off will pro­vide prime view­ing time. But guess what? A week later it is no longer there! It’s only avail­able for disc view­ing. Well, a big EFF YOU to you.

      You use to be the really cool kid on the block.  But what you are is a bully and a mean girl.
       

        Watching the world go by

        Posted on by
        Reply

        Whilst on my way to work today … just doot doot doot­ing along  … it dawned on me that I hadn’t checked text mes­sages on my phone. When I looked quickly, there was, indeed, a mes­sage from my gen­eral man­ager inform­ing me that the mall was par­tially with­out power and our store was included in the out­age. Oh joy! ComEd was work­ing on it but had no idea where the issue occurred or when they would be able to rem­edy the situation.

        Oy to the vey!

        With cus­tomers likely to be arriv­ing, I had to wo-man the gate to let them know that it wasn’t a store issue but a mall/ComEd issue. With good for­tune, GM was able to access our appoint­ment book to resched­ule for later in the week. Hoo-ray! Still, there are walk-ins etc… Our sis­ter brand GM was kind enough to let us occupy one of their doc­tor lanes to get our patients who were not reached to still get their eye exams, etc… I love it when coop­er­a­tion makes for an eas­ier transition. 

        The doc­tor side of the mis­for­tune was taken care of, but with­out power your’s truly can­not pro­duce qual­ity eye­wear. With the com­pany credit card in hand, I went art freakshow Watching the world go byshop­ping for nec­es­sary sup­plies. Oh what JOY to be at Wal-Mart on a Sat­ur­day mid­day. With a rum­bling in my tummy, I stopped by Sub­way (with my own cash, mind you) for lunch and took it back to the mall so I’d be closer to the action if the power was revived. The action was not in the store, but in the food court peo­ple watching.

        Oh dear Lord! When you are really bored and your eyes are wide open there is a cor­nu­copia of freak show to gaze upon.

        Here are some of the obser­va­tions made in the one hour period that I sat in amaze­ment and wonder:

        • Poo­dle perms are alive and well the Kanka­kee area. They are often accen­tu­ated by dra­mat­i­cally curled under blunt cut bangs. You know the style. It appears that the roller is still in the hair.
        • Chil­dren of food court pro­pri­etors are gym­nasts. Their spe­cialty? Using the back of an iron bench in lieu of a bal­ance beam. Oopsy daisy! It sure hurts when you slip and fall, doesn’t it? Thank good­ness the foun­tains had been filled in with plants long ago. They might have prac­tice syn­chro­nized swim­ming or water ballet.
        • Today’s videos/music sucks ass. Auto­tune is the devil as demon­strated by some dread­ful per­for­mance on the big screens by T-Pain ft. Chris Brown. The singing is so mud­dled by the auto­tune (high pitch and through­out) that I couldn’t fig­ure out one syl­la­ble. The sav­ing grace was WEAPON OF CHOICE com­ing on and see­ing Christo­pher Walken danc­ing about.
        • Along the video tunage thought: Some goon named Jason Derulo aurally defe­cates upon Harry Belaphonte’s “Banana Boat Song” in his shit-tastic, heav­ily sam­pled song enti­tled “Don’t Want To Go Home.” Jason, I want you to go far, far away.
        • Mid­dle aged men with giant pot bel­lies can’t come to terms with the fact that their favorite KISS tshirt doesn’t come in the XXXL size required to suit their guts.
        • Many of today’s teen age girls don’t stride or walk. The tip side to side in a for­ward motion. It’s nearly penguin-esque. It’s a curi­ous sight.
        • Yes, Lycra stretches. Test­ing it’s strength is also a com­mon occur­rence. ::shudder::
        • Facial hair on most men looks hor­rific. Groom­ing the chin nest isn’t fixed by spray­ing Axe body spray. Maybe the Old Spice guy should touch on that in his next ad.
        • Shorts are for very few peo­ple. Young girls who are fix­ated on the size tag should be more con­cerned with the amount of short mate­r­ial inch­ing upward into their birth and or anal canal. When one must stop every 5 or 6 steps to remove the short from the booty, it’s time to admit that you need a big­ger size or just skip the shorty shorts alto­gether. My vote is on the latter.

        There you have it. My hour of mall food court obser­va­tions. I wish I could make a liv­ing peo­ple watching.

          The Pursuit is over

          Posted on by
          4

          Lane Bryant saved my boobalas from fur­ther torture!

          Did you hear the choir of angels sing ear­lier Fri­day evening? July 22, 2011! Mark it on your cal­en­dar. For the first time two decades I was able to take a bra off a rack (heh…I said rack) in a STORE; try it on and it FIT! I lit­er­ally let out a squeal of delight when the hot pink, under­wired, smooth cov­er­age bra fit.

          Glory, glory hal­lelu­jah! It felt so comfy that I bought four. I almost kissed the sales con­sul­tant, Mary, who mea­sured me. “You’re a per­fect #^ HOLY FUNBAGS!” (She did not say fun bags, but I’m not reveal­ing my actual size) With that infor­ma­tion, she showed me to the selec­tion of bras not just in white or black, either. Each style has a dif­fer­ent pur­pose and amount of cov­er­age. She went on to inform me that there are more selec­tions online. Since I know my size for their brand (Cacique) I should have no issues in the future. Mary not only helped me find proper fit­ting bras, but she made sure I was able to save money in the process. Thank you text mes­sage instant coupons!

          cacique 240x300 The Pursuit is over

          Another thing. A bonus for order­ing online is that ship­ping to the store is free and returns are no has­sle even if I pur­chase online.

          As Mary put my pur­chase in the bag I thanked her for her help and asked if there was any way I could get word of her excel­lent ser­vice to the pow­ers that be. I walked out with a lilt in my step and declared, “My spir­its AND my boobs are lifted — a two for one deal!”

          I must give props to my sis­ter Mau­reen and my co-worker Sarah for telling me about their expe­ri­ences shop­ping for bras at Lane Bryant. I’d shopped at the store in the past, but never for over the shoul­der boul­der hold­ers as cup sizes never went high enough to suit Thelma and Louise. So, with that I thank both ladies for help­ing a sis­ter out when her cups run­neth over.

          With my quest to find the per­fect bra now real­ized, it’s time to find the per­fect for me man … OK, let’s not get car­ried away!

            Glory Days

            Posted on by
            Reply

             I grad­u­ated in 1983. Eastridge High School and our cross town rival West­view would come together to cre­ate, once more, Kanka­kee High School. The class of 1983, my grad­u­at­ing class, would be the final, and par­don my biased opin­ion, the best class of 1983. It’s like we have this spe­cial toe-hold in its his­tory. Surely the first grad­u­at­ing class feels similarly.

            So, when it comes to reunions we’re not able to get enough. Typ­i­cally the gath­er­ings are a small, inti­mate group. It doesn’t mat­ter the num­ber in atten­dance. We’re able to share expe­ri­ences of the past and present as if no time had come between us.

            This year, the 28th, we chose to make it an ‘all classes invited’ event rather than lim­it­ing it to the class of ’83. Most of us were friends with kids out­side our class. Involve­ment in sports, fine arts and other activ­i­ties, no sur­prise, allowed the bound­aries to cross. What seems truly unique about my friends is that they come from all walks of life and lev­els. It didn’t mat­ter if your par­ents were wealthy or not. No one seemed to care that my clothes came from the clear­ance racks at Belscot or Hornsby’s while they were sport­ing Izod and Polo. I’m sure there were some cliques and labels being thrown around, but it seemed those who hung around with me were immune to their effects.

            Sat­ur­day, June 18, 2011 marked the first annual EHS Cam­pout Jam. I did not cam­pout, mind you, but the night was spent laugh­ing, eat­ing, drink­ing … ten plus hours of gen­eral mer­ri­ment that we all seemed to need and appreciate.

            It’s been quite awhile since I laughed so much that my stom­ach hurt. On one hand I wish that this sort of fes­tiv­ity could hap­pen more fre­quently, but then wouldn’t it lose the spe­cial qual­ity? Nah. I find it rather won­der­ful that while there is a core group that is always in atten­dance, a new batch of friends attend and up the sto­ries and hilar­i­ous recall of our lives together and apart. Some of the peo­ple there this week­end have known me since we were FIVE YEARS OLD! How crazy is that? From nap time to walk­ing across the stage to receive our diplo­mas we were together. Pon­der that one for a minute.

            I want to extend an enor­mous amount of grat­i­tude to our host and host­ess Lisa and her hus­band, Mick. Their gen­eros­ity and hos­pi­tal­ity will go down in the his­tory books. Danke! Gra­cias! Merci! Mahalo!!

              Son in the Sun

              Posted on by
              Reply

              Sum­mer is here! The weather is erratic to say the very least. On one of the sunny, hot days my son and I man­aged to get to the local water park. Splash Val­ley isn’t big, but it pro­vides cool water on siz­zling days. With con­sid­er­a­tion to the fact that mod­esty (and embar­rass­ment) gets the bet­ter of me, I don’t uti­lize the water slides. I bake and then hop in the Lazy River and hope no one notices me along the path from my chaise to the agua.

              waterslide Son in the Sun

              Thanks to a misses cut swim­suit with board shorts, I have a bit more con­fi­dence. At least there’s less thigh and booty show­ing. Solace is found in see­ing peo­ple big­ger and squishier than me who aren’t let­ting their chub­bi­ness stand in their way of hav­ing fun in the sun.

              In the years that Man­cub and I have gone to Splash Val­ley it’s rare to see peo­ple I know. He runs into class­mates, but typ­i­cally I keep to myself. There­fore, no one can notice me scant­ily clad.

              This time was dif­fer­ent. I ran into a cou­ple of for­mer class­mates. I’ve known them since kinder­garten! One guy I hadn’t seen in since I was preg­nant with my son. My ratio­nale for talk­ing to him was that surely I look bet­ter now than I did being bloated with baby. In the course of our con­ver­sa­tion he shared that he was about 60 pounds heav­ier a cou­ple of years ago. WOW! Some­one I’d qui­etly com­mented was look­ing good at 46 under­stood the plight of being heftier. It gave me a pinch of real­ity. What’s more is that it helped me real­ize that through talk­ing to peo­ple, even those who knew me as a skinny kid since grade school, we all have our bat­tles in life and only through being approach­able are we able to share those stories.

              This is the point where I con­fess that regard­less of the board shorts I still wrapped a towel around my waist to hide my unsightly vari­cose veins.

              Baby steps, my friends. Baby steps.

              mangosunblock 180x300 Son in the Sun

              PS. This sun­block from Bath & Body Works not only smells amaz­ing, but it works really well. I’d only exposed my pasty white skin on mild days. I put it on 15 min­utes prior to expo­sure to the sun as rec­om­mended and I didn’t burn what­so­ever. Just a lit­tle hint of color. From 1:30 to 4:30 my flesh was in bright, direct sun­light. The pro­tec­tion con­tin­ued after being in the water for about an hour.

                Gratitude: My Saturday List

                Posted on by
                1

                As I sit here eat­ing my break­fast it came to me that I should share some things I am grate­ful for hav­ing in my life. All too often in my quest to be funny I lean towards the sar­cas­tic and cyn­i­cal. In an attempt to show you that I can be a smidge deeper than a pud­dle in the desert, here are 10 items that popped into my head in no par­tic­u­lar order of importance.

                1. Fage Greek Yogurt. It’s what’s for break­fast this morn­ing along with straw­ber­ries and flax seed gra­nola. Packed with pro­tein and low fat, my friends. It made for a pretty par­fait, too. See photo below.
                2. My job. Yeah, it’s kind of a stan­dard mode to com­plain about bosses and work con­di­tions, but thanks to employ­ment I’m able to exist in comfort.
                3. Smart­phones. Sure, they have their issues with apps that per­mit hack­ers etc, but hav­ing a Droid makes me won­der how I func­tioned before such possession.
                4. Cof­fee. All things in mod­er­a­tion. Cof­fee black; hot from brew­ing; sting to my upper lip as I take the first sip. That is when my day can truly begin.
                5. Funny co-workers. Yes, I work with some peo­ple who make me laugh until my belly hurts. I’ll focus on that facet of the job rather than the goof­balls who can’t seem to retain information.
                6. Sharpies. I love them! Even my high­lighters are made my Sharpie. I avoid office sup­ply stores due to the fact that I can­not resist pur­chas­ing the multi-color packs or new fan­gled vari­ety of Sharpie click pens.
                7. Face­book. Some peo­ple say it is the work of the devil. I, how­ever, have found a lot of sup­port and hilar­ity. It’s also been the venue of reunions both famil­ial and school related.
                8. My Land­lady.  She’s old school kind and thought­ful. They look out for me and Man­cub. Our home is very old and lived in, but I wouldn’t trade it for mod­ern and con­ve­nient if it meant deal­ing with a heart­less land man­ager. Yes, I’d love to own (with the bank) a home that is mine in name, but that day may not come for quite awhile.
                9. Witty and quirky sit-coms. If you haven’t seen RAISING HOPE or COMMUNITY, then you are miss­ing out. My son and I watch those shows and laugh so hard!
                10. John Hays. Yep, a real per­son with a name. He’s my Beach­body Coach, but beyond that he’s a true friend who, in spite of me being down­right bitchy at times, has proven that he’s not giv­ing up on help­ing me see Marissa as oth­ers do.

                parfait Gratitude: My Saturday List