Thursday, January 20, 2005

Decadence at its best. I hope you are sturdy enough to take it.

The cd jukebox is set on 'random' and some of the musical combinations are making me laugh, so all is not lost.

When the kids were in junior high and high school, we had a tape player in our van. I used to make mix tapes for long trips. Some of my mixes were, um, let us be merciful and call them "unique."

Often a song was followed by another song that made them both funny. I was NOT good at making mix tapes. Ask Belle. She's still talking about that one in particular. . . . .

I learned many valuable lessons from the group laughter.

However, I'm excellent with the mix cd's. Want one? Tell me what you want and you can have it.

Time was, that statement had a very different meaning. . . . . .

I have decided that, fat as I am, I'm going to the kitchen and make something decadent and I'm going to eat it all before I go to bed so nobody will ever know I did it.

None of YOU will tell, will you? I knew I could count on you. I'd share if you were here.

You know those funny/sort-of-sick stories about pregnant women who eat enormous amounts of food and hide it from their husbands? I know one.

26 years ago, this certain person made a chocolate pie for dessert. She and her husband ate half of it. The next day, she kept looking at that half-a-pie and finally broke down and ate it all. To keep her husband from finding out, she made another pie and ate half.

Hint: it's somebody we know.

I don't think I'll make pie, though. Maybe some cookies. They're harder to keep track of.

We have no vodka. What else can I do?

A sugar high is better than nothing.

I can feel my nerves start to calm, even as my blood sugar rises. Yes. I'm going to be all right.

However, if you want to come over and bring vodka, please do. I'll leave the door unlocked for you. Heck, living way out here, I seldom lock it anyway.

How far out am I? My address is nailed to a huge tree stump up by the road.

The deer come right up to the door. In herds.

Oh, you mean, how far out am I? As in, ME?

I'm way far out, honey. I am FAR OUT. I am COOL. I GROOVE. I am WITH IT.

Excuse me for a second while I take this Woodstock cd out of the player.

Now I'm going into the kitchen to begin my culinary debauchery before I start saying "groovy" in the natural course of conversation.

Of course, it might be much worse. I've seen 'Love Actually" about a million times now, and my language could be MUCH worse.

Prime Minister: It's fine, it's fine. You could've said "fuck", and then we'd have been in real trouble.
Natalie: Thank you, sir. I did have an awful premonition that I was going to fuck up the first day. Oh piss-it!

Now if you will excuse me, I'm off to commit diabetic suicide and probably watch this movie again. I might have missed something Hugh Grant said or did, the first few thousand times I watched it.

A person just can't miss anything Hugh Grant might say or do. Lordy, lordy, that hooker must have thought she'd died and gone to heaven.

(He was well rid of Elizabeth Hurley. She wasn't good enough for him. Wispy little thing. He needs a sturdy woman. Someone like. . . . . oh, you know.)

Hey. Enough of that. "Sturdy" can also mean "stamina," and he would NEED it with a sturdy woman. . . . mentioning no names.

I'm really leaving now. I'll be back later tonight, but I'm leaving right now.

See me leaving?

Posted by Mamacita (The REAL one) @ 9:57 PM | |


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