Tag Archives: humor

Why So Serious???

The world is a super strange place and some of the people in it are strange too.  If you have read this blog, you know that most of what I write is not serious.  Most of it is humorous and most of the people who read it find it humorous.  Sometimes I write with sarcasm, sometimes I point out things that to most normal people, are ridiculous or wasteful.  Sometimes I write about things that I find annoying or funny or hypocritical or lacking in common sense.  Sometimes I tell stories about my life.  Most all of it is done with humor.

If you have a comment about something I have written, I would love to hear from you whether you agree with me or not.  It’s ok if you don’t agree, that is what makes the world interesting.  If we all agreed, the world would be a boring place, full of Stepford people who march in lock-step with one another, creating a scary science fiction like existence.  What I DON’T want to hear and what I will NOT acknowledge or approve for publication on my blog is cruelty, rudeness, profanity or ignorance.  If you disagree with me, by all means, let me know, but do it with decency and respect.  If you have no sense of humor, if you can dish it out but not take it, if you are crude, rude, mean, small-minded or ignorant, don’t read this blog.  WordPress and the world, is a big place, my little corner of it shouldn’t dominate your thoughts or cause your blood pressure to rise.  In fact, if I write about something remotely controversial, within the first sentence or two, I warn you and if you don’t want to hear what I have to say, go away.

That is the beautiful thing about freedom.  When you are free, you have choices.  If I choose to write about shoes or wasting millions of taxpayer dollars studying the already known fact that radiation spreads, invades bodies and is bad and I think that is a wasteful and less than intelligent use of time and money, I’m gonna do it.  If you don’t like what I write, you don’t have to read it.  Ever.  No one is forcing you to sign on to this website and read my ramblings.

So, now that I’ve laid a few ground rules for visiting Hollytopia, I plan to get back to regular topics.  My family has had a rough time this summer, dealing with relocating my mother to a nursing home.  It’s been hard and I haven’t had a lot of time for writing, but things are calming down now and I’m baaaaaack.  I’m gonna get back to voicing my observations and opinions.  If you can’t stand the heat, get out of my kitchen.  If you want an occasional chuckle or a voice who is saying something that you think, but wouldn’t say out loud, come on along for the ride.

Be kind to one another and lighten up for God’s sake 🙂

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Cat Races

So apparently, my ten-year old son turned into a bookie this morning.  He decided to launch the first annual Mother’s Day Cat Races at our house.  We have three cats, he assigned himself, my daughter and my husband a cat to “train,” collected bets, which he wrote down on some kind of weird paper, and gave me the job of standing in the kitchen and shaking the cat food to get them to run.  For some strange reason, we all cooperated, and it was hilarious.

Bella

Bella, is a small, delicate little tortoise-shell kitty.  She is kind of hyper and loves my husband with a strange, obsessive intensity.  So Hubs was her trainer.

Blue

Blue is a huge, fat Garfield of a cat.  He is a gray and white tuxedo mutt who flops down at random intervals when hauling all that chub around gets to be too much.  The Girl was assigned this bundle of endless energy.

Tigger, the sink dweller

 Tigger is the latest rescuee who we found in a glass case at Petsmart.  He is orange and supposedly a Maine Coon, which based on his size (big, but not fat like SOME people) and luxurious hair seems to be accurate.  He is a momma’s boy, and is marginally afraid of my son who made himself Tigger’s trainer.

Since Tigger will run down the main hall of our house, but then makes a sharp right and hides behind the couch when he hits the family room, the edge of the family room was the finish line.  Monkey Boy downloaded a megaphone app on his iPad and made a big long announcement on it and a ready, set, go 3-2-1 thing and they were off.  As soon as I heard him say go, I started pouring food into their bowls.  Tigger, who wanted nothing more than to get away from my son, took off at warp speed, Blue who is always interested in food was hot on his heels and Bella, who is in love with Hubs, ran because she was initially startled and then turned back to look for her Daddy.  In the end, it was Tigger by a length and a duck behind the couch due to the horror of being held for a while by Monkey Boy and Blue of course, was the first one to the kitchen and the promise of delicious kitty kibble.

I came to several conclusions during this fantastic, new, annual Mother’s Day event.  First, my son is even more clever than I thought he was.  First, he chose the cat that is afraid of him and will do whatever is necessary to get away, figuring out that said cat would also be the fastest due to fear.  Second, my son also has a brilliant future as a business man or maybe a politician or organized crime boss due to his ability to scheme, take bets and generally get people to participate in things they don’t really feel like doing, but in the end they enjoy on some level.  Third, fear, or food, gets things done faster than love because the one in love with her trainer had no desire to leave him, only turn and gaze at him with adoration.

Now that the first annual races are done, I think we should expand and invite in other cats and trainers next year.  We could charge an entry fee and take a percentage of the bets for the house.  Awwww SNAP!!  Maybe Monkey Boy doesn’t have to be a crime boss all by himself!!  Is there such thing as The Godmother?  I can put my fingertips together and mutter “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse,” just as well as Don Vito Corleone did.  Yessss, I can see it now, a Cat Race empire…

Happy Mother’s Day friends, be kind to one another 🙂

What Do You MEAN You’re Hungry Again?

As has been previously established, I have two children and a husband.  We go through a lot of food.  The husband doesn’t eat as much as the kids, so we’ll focus on the knee-biters.

They aren’t really knee-biters anymore I guess, they are 15 and 10.  A girl and a boy and they are always hungry.  They are not uncared for, so I really don’t get where the endlessly empty bellies come from.  They get a decent if quick breakfast, they are either given money for lunch or a lunch is packed for them.  They have an after school snack and dinner and sometimes an evening snack.   Yet in spite of this well-fedness, the most common phrase in my house is “do you know what we are having for breakfast, lunch, dinner, or snack?”  It is also one of the most dreaded phrases in my house because although I am a good cook, and every so often I actually feel like doing it, I generally DON’T feel like it.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love food.  All kinds of food.  Healthy, unhealthy, I can find a place for all of it; but I’m tired a lot.  It doesn’t seem to matter how much sleep I get, I’m tired.  I used to think it was because I had some creepy undiagnosed disease, but then one day I sat down and THOUGHT about said day and I realized that I am tired because I am busy.  I only work outside the home on a part-time basis because I am a substitute teacher, so if nobody is sick or in need of a mental health day, or if my husband is out-of-town, I don’t work.   You’d think that would make me less tired, but it doesn’t, because on those days “off,” I do about four thousand pounds of laundry, vacuum, run kids everywhere, do bills, you get the picture, and make food.

The minute they walk in the door after school, they look at me and ask what we are having for dinner.  For some reason, I get a flash of irritation that is immediate, I make a big heavy sigh/grunt and snap, “OMG, (insert kid’s name here)  I don’t know, it’s only three o’clock!!  You just walked in the door, I just walked in the door!!  GIVE ME A FEW MINUTES!!”  At this point, I actually either stomp off to some other part of the house, or I continue to mumble and grumble under my breath as I slam cabinet doors trying to find food.  It’s not that we don’t HAVE food, we have plenty, we just don’t have anything that can magically prepare itself.  You can only subject your family to so many “eat whatever you want nights” before somebody comes down with rickets or scurvy from eating crappily unbalanced meals.  Now if we were pirates, that might be just fine, but the school authorities would probably frown and call child services if my previously healthy children got rickety or jaundiced.  So I have to find them some vittles.

One problem that we have is that none of us like leftovers.  There are a few things we’ll eat leftover, like my cheesy tuna noodle casserole, but most leftovers acquire interesting textures and smells all most right away and we just end up throwing them away, so I try to make just enough food so there ARE no leftovers.  We are not slimy texture fans around here, so I can’t have leftover night, which would probably be a nice thing to do.

Another problem that we have is that we are not rich enough to eat out every night.  Now THAT would be nice.  But alas, we usually only go out one night a week, Wednesday, to kid’s night at Skyline Chili, even though neither of my kids can eat free anymore, it’s a thing we started years ago and we keep doing it.  So that night is my favorite as I have to do NOTHING.

My favorite kind of dinners are homemade chili and tacos and breakfast because they are either easy, and/or you put them on early and let them simmer and then when it’s time to eat, you grate a little cheese, and fill up a bowl.  You can also put all kinds of things in chili like finely grated carrots so it really IS a complete meal in a bowl.  If you are a weirdo, you can make it out of soy chunks.  Tried that once.  Did I mention we have texture issues??  Yuck.

In conclusion, I have to say, that once my kids are grown and living in their own homes, I will live on things like peanut butter spread on apples, scrambled eggs and toast, mac and cheese and various varieties of veggie/dip trays from Kroger.  When I need meat, I’ll go to Longhorn and Wednesday night will forever be Skyline night.  For all you health food folk out there, I’ll be taking vitamins and eating lots of raw veg, so I won’t die.  All that money NOT spent on food can then be re-directed to books and art supplies where it belongs.

Be kind to one another 🙂

My War on Wars on Stuff

Ok, this is not exactly political, it is more of maybe, a grammar thing the more I think about it.  Recently in the news, we hear about wars on stuff.  Apparently, there is a war on bedroom politics, a war on women, drugs, poverty, guns, free speech, religion and pit bulls.  I am sick to death of hearing about all of these wars.  It just seems stupid to me.  Distracting. Boring.  I am starting my own war against wars on stuff, and hopefully, they will be more interesting.

War Number One.  I am declaring a war on fitted waistbands.  They are uncomfortable.  They add to my claustrophobia.  When wearing a fitted waistband, I find sitting to be less than desirable.  Especially if I’ve just eaten.  They tend to bind and I posit that we don’t have to take it anymore.  We live in a time of spandex added to denim for God’s sake, why should the waistband of our pants be so unforgiving?  hMMMM???  I think it’s a conspiracy.

War Number Two.  I declare war on lining in clothing.  Am I the only one who has noticed that the lining in a skirt or pair of pants is always at least one size smaller than the garment itself?  Also, while the garment may be made out of some type of nice comfy fabric, the lining stuff is always stiff and weird.  NO MORE LININGS!!!

War Number Three.  Plastic bags for your groceries.  I want the big brown, rectangular, paper ones back that my mother used to get when I was a kid.  They were heavy-duty.  You could fill one of those suckers to the BRIM with cans and it wouldn’t tear.  You could load one up with packets of biscuit or muffin mix and the corners of said packets would not make a big split down the side which would allow all of your other stuff to fall out in the parking lot.  In addition? those brown grocery bags, when lined with a tall kitchen garbage bag, make fantastic puke bags.  No buckets or trash cans full of vomit that then need to be >gulp< poured out and cleaned.  Scuze me a sec, I’m feeling a little squeamish….  OK, better now.

War Number Four.   People who mow their grass too much.  You know who I’m talking about.  The weirdo who mows his (and it’s always a him) grass to within an inch of its life and then when you mow yours the next day “he” comes out and mows his AGAIN.  It is one form of OCD that needs to be cured.  Just because I mow the day after you, doesn’t mean I’m trying to one up you.  Honestly, I’d let it go back to nature if I wasn’t afraid the township would fine me.  I’m just environmental like that.

War Number Five.  School buses and garbage trucks.  Yeah, yeah, I know the buses take the kids to school and they’re convenient and all, but they are loud, and if you get behind one, they are smelly.  They come through the neighborhood waaaay too early and wake everyone up.  Now that my kids don’t have access to a school bus, we all get an extra hour of sleep in the morning.  Garbage trucks, same thing.  Loud, early, smelly.  Do we REALLY need them?

See how stupid my wars on stuff are?  Well, not all of them, just half of five, because someone really does need to take the trash away.  Any who, my point is this, using the term “war on (fill in the blank)” is irritating.  It’s annoying.  It’s like when George Bush said “Make no mistake” and every other stupid politician started saying it.  Every time I hear someone say “Make no mistake” I immediately zone out and miss the rest of what they are saying.  Get to the point,  dramatics are not necessary if you are saying something important or interesting.  If you have to use a tag line to get your point across, change your point or better yet, just zip it.  I have better things to do than listen, like clipping the lining out of pants, or tormenting a goofy neighbor with yard work.

Be kind to one another 🙂

I Know Why Women Talk More Than Men

A few years ago, I read an article  by some crusty old college professor type dudes, that said women talk something like three or four times as much as men.  That’s just bullcrap, I remember thinking to myself.  I am a substitute teacher and a wife and mother of a boy and let me tell you something, the boys talk and gossip more than the girls.  When I am teaching it is usually the boys who get in trouble for talking.  Just recently, I had a third grade boy come up to me when I was subbing and tell me all about his love life and how one girl keeps trying to get him to “go out” with her when she KNOWS he already has a girlfriend.  Needless to say, I gave him the mom/teacher combo speech about how he is too young for all that junk and he needed to just go back and sit down and stop thinking about girls so much.  It went on and on, but you get the gist.

So anyway, back to women talking more than men.  It started to hit home with me a while ago, but over the last weekend, it hit home with a ton of lead, exactly WHY women talk so much.  It’s because we have to repeat EVERYTHING we say, especially to the men in our lives.  Both the big men and the little ones.  I was sitting in my living room trying to avoid the 52 inches of Sponge Bob that was blaring in the family room, when my son walked through and I asked him if he had finished his homework.  “What?”  I repeated myself.  “WHAT?”  I repeated myself again.  “Oh, yeah, I got it done a long time ago.”  Then, when I was in the kitchen, which is PART OF MY FAMILY ROOM AREA, I said to the same small boy, “Go wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”  “What?”  I repeated myself.  “WHAT?”  “GO WASH YOUR HANDS IF YOU WANT FOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”  “gee mom, you don’t have to yell…”  It’s a good thing he’s cute and does funny things.

This went on ALL WEEKEND.  For everything.  It could be an order I’ve given, a request I’ve made, a compliment I’ve doled out, permission to go play outside, an announcement that I have won the Powerball and everyone is now going to go to school online and we are going to buy an RV and travel the world with it like The Wild Thornberries, and I will have to repeat myself.  Usually more than once.  By the time I went to bed on Sunday night, I was exhausted.  I didn’t do more physically than I usually do, I hadn’t solved any quantum physics problems that would’ve worn me out mentally, all I did was repeat myself.  Over and over and over.  I don’t have to repeat myself as much with my daughter, and as time goes by, less and less often with my husband, but the little boy is going to kill me.  Or drive me crazy.  Or cause me to take a vow of silence.  HA, let them function for more than a few hours if I do THAT!

SO, the next time some MAN (and lets face it, it’s usually a man) says that women talk too much, look at him and say “What?”  Make him repeat it a few times, then just shrug and grunt and walk away.  It will totally freak him out and it will be funny.  Try it.

Be kind to each other peeps 🙂

Why Do People Look Younger Today Than Saaay, My Parent’s Generation

I have been trying to unlock the secret to eternal youth just like everybody else and I think I know where it lives.  In the Clairol or Loreal Paris, hair dye box.  It also lies with well styled hair.  Whether it’s short or long, matters less than it having some layers.

Back in the day, I remember thinking my Grandma was about a hundred years old.  She lived in a tiny little Grandma house with a chenille bedspread and a black couch with little shiny silver, pokey threads coming out of it.  She baked cookies with too many eggs in them (yuck), her Thanksgiving stuffing was slimy and came out of the turkey’s butt (yuck) and her Christmas tree was silver with a rotating color wheel behind it (weird).  She was a nice lady, but between the cat glasses and the short gray hair that was fashioned into a fascinating hard-ish cap of curls, she seemed REALLY old.  I recently realized that she was only in her mid-fifties.

TODAY, when you see a woman in her mid-fifties, more often than not, she is in jeans, with beautifully styled and beautifully colored hair.  She is wearing make-up.  She is usually carrying some kind of fancy purse and wearing flip-flops.  My grandma would’ve died rather than wear jeans or flip-flops.  Women that age today wear pretty colors and sparkly stuff.  They go out with friends to bars and restaurants, not necessarily bingo at church.

My Grandma became a Grandma and immediately started playing the part.  Women today become Grandmas and go, “WOW, I’d better step up my game.  I have to keep up with these little kids when they come over and when they are gone, I’m gonna PARRTAAAY!!”  So they get a nice swingy little cut and a lovely shiny new hair color, and suddenly, they look 30, 35 at the most and they start having fun again.

I started coloring my hair vigorously while preggers with my daughter.  Yeah, yeah, it’s bad for the baby, whatever, she came out fine.  She was sucking me dry and my hair started to get gray.  Wasn’t gonna have it, so I started coloring it.  I am naturally a blondie.  I was a lot blonder when I was a little kid and it kind of faded and darkened over the years (especially after the baby), so I experimented.  I have been really blonde, sort-of blonde, dark red, dark brown (those were bad), strawberry blonde, caramelly blonde, blondish with highlights, blondish with low lights.  I am currently strawberry blonde underneath, which fades to a light caramelly blonde with blonder highlights on top.  It’s pretty.  I get lots of compliments.  And it’s long.  And layered.  When a Mom I’ve known for a number of years recently was having a conversation with me and I told her how old I am (forties) she said, “I didn’t know you were that old!  I thought you had your daughter as a teenager!”  HAHAHAHAAAA!!  “It’s the hair” I told her.  “Cut it off, get me a perm and let it go streaky gray and you’ll think I’m fifteen years old than I am.”  Her response?  “Damn, I need to get to the salon.  I haven’t done anything with my hair in years.”  She did it and guess what?  Instant fountain of youth.  Her eyes look brighter, her skin looks firmer and she is walking with a little kick in her step that I’ve never seen.

I also had a convo recently with my girlfriends about when, if ever to stop with the color.  My answer?  Never.  If Armageddon comes, expect to see me out gathering nuts and berries to combine into some sort of all natural color rinse.  Just because the world may be falling apart, doesn’t mean I have to.

SO, the next time you feel like you look like you’re old and dying, do your hair.  Don’t go straight to Botox or plastic surgery.  Get a new ‘do and some nice color and tell everyone you are ten years younger than you are.   Oh, and don’t get 1950’s cat glasses.  Or a cardigan with a little chain.  Chins up!

Be kind to one another and have a great day!! 🙂

Why Aren’t People Going to The Movies?

**Before I get started here, I have a short disclaimer.  I love movies.  Watching them is one of my favorite pass times.  There are definitely some good movies out there, but they are in the minority.  I’m sure there are perfectly nice people in Hollywood who live respectable lives, but I don’t know any of them personally, and the following is my generalized answer to an article I saw about a decrease in box office receipts and my opinion about why they are down.**

I’m just a little ol’ mom in a fly over state.  I couldn’t hope to possess the panache of your average Hollywood star.  I graduated from high school, I went to college, my family doesn’t make millions of dollars for pretending and I don’t let people film me naked, but I have a few ideas about falling box office in spite of my obvious lack of Hollywood cool.

First, it’s too expensive for what you get.  It’s in the ten-dollar per ticket range to see a movie.  Most movies are not worth five bucks apiece, let alone ten.  The stories are done over and over and over again.  The stories tend to have poorly hidden messages about what we are supposed to believe.  /Happy Feet/ or /Wall-e/ anyone?  The acting is meh, most of the time.  Too many people get naked and/or have out right sex.  I’m no prude, but I really don’t need to see that.  There are too many rude/sexual/adult jokes and situations in a lot of movies directed at kids.  Kids in movies act like undisciplined brats and then real kids think that they should do the same thing once they get home or go to school or hang out with their friends.  Again, don’t need that.  How about looking at movies that ARE successful, or that ARE classic, like /War Horse/ or the Harry Potter movies or /Forrest Gump/ and make more like them, not similar stories necessarily, but quality acting, producing and directing.

Second, the food is too expensive.  It’s something like seven dollars for a large coke.  The can I snuck in in my purse when I went to see Harry Potter only cost me about fifty cents.  Candy bars are about four dollars.  Popcorn, the same.  You get my drift.  Not gonna pay it.  I’m not stupid.  Or rich.

Third, and this is something of a new one for the Hollywoodies out there, we’re just not that in to you.  We watch gossip and stuff about you because we can’t believe you actually live like that.  It’s kinda like watching a train wreck.  We know we shouldn’t look, but it’s so gross and weird that we can’t help it.  Sure, there are some Hollywood-ites that aren’t as icky, but they are few and far between.  They all seem to think they are better than the rest of us cause they live in California and have lots of money, but guess what, they are not.  They are just people.  They are messed up just like everyone else, only on a grander, more public scale because they are narcissistic and can’t stop telling everyone about themselves.  Pretty much the only thing they have that I don’t is a butt-load of money, and let me tell you something honey, if I have to do a fraction of what you folks do for it, I’ll just stay where I am thanks.

Fourth, we are getting sick and tired of being told how to live by the above mentioned narcissists.  We take care of business out here in the real world every single day and we can do it without your do-gooder input.  All that stuff you keep telling US we should do? maybe you should try doing some of it yourselves and leave us alone.  Just because you are in the public eye doesn’t mean you’re super smart, it means you chose a different path than the rest of us that’s all.  And by the way, the adults among us also realize that you don’t look the way you want us to think you look either.  I am pretty sure I’ve passed “beautiful/handsome movie stars” on the street and without the couple of inches of makeup, hair extensions and super-strength spanks, you all look just like everyone else.  That’s why we like people like Sandra Bullock.  She’s beautiful and talented, but she doesn’t spend her life telling us about it and she is not immune to going out in “mom clothes” once in a while.

So, that is my uncool, unhip, regular person opinion about the reasons box office receipts are down.   All my blah, blah, blahhing boils down to one thing.  We’re kinda sick of Hollywood and most of their stupid movies.   Step up your game, give us better stuff to watch, stop charging so much for it cause we don’t think it’s worth it, stop thinking your better than everyone else, and for the love of God, keep your clothes on.  It’s >gasp<  unattractive.

Have a wonderful, normal day 🙂

I Still Like Paper

I am about to write the most controversial blog entry EVER!  I still like paper.  I prefer paper bags (they make great barf bags when lined with a tall kitchen garbage bag), I prefer actual books, I prefer actual address books and I like scrapbooks that you can hold in your hand and flip through along with actual pictures that you have to store in a box.

I am a serious bookworm.  People come in my front door, look at the bookshelves lining my entry hall and murmur in admiration (ok, it’s probably disgust, but I prefer to think they are admiring my giant brain) “WOW that’s a lot of books.”  To which I proudly respond, “And that’s not all of them, I just don’t have enough shelf space.”  I am on the verge of demanding a move to an old Victorian mansion with a library just so I can get out all of my books, and then sit by the fire on windy, rainy nights in my wing chair with my brandy.  Ok, I don’t really drink much either, but to say I’d have a giant glass of coke, which if you’ve read earlier posts you’d know I have an “issue” with, makes it all less dramatic.  Anyway you get my point.

I also enjoy printing photos.  When I was a kid, one of my favorite things to do was to sit with my mother’s giant box of family pictures and study people who were long gone by the time I was born.  There is something less viscerally satisfying about clicking through pics on the computer.  My kids also enjoy sitting with a stack of pics or a stack of scrapbooks and reliving things they remember.

The address book is another one of my “things.”  When your “smart” phone, or computer or Ipad craps out with your Christmas card list on it, and I whip out my handwritten, paper address book and get everything done while you are still trying to “restore” what you lost, I ask the question, “who’s smart now?”

I have to say that I do have a computer. I have a NOOK because I realized after a very tiring trip to Hawaii, that travelling on a plane with five hard-back books is not a good idea.  I have an Ipod which I’m pretty sure is my favorite possession, and I want an Ipad.  I am not technologically ignorant or unable to function in the modern world.  What I am, is harder to influence with marketing.  I don’t want to spend my life with my eyes glued to a screen.  I want to open a book and feel the paper, and hear the swish as I turn a page.  When the electricity goes out and I have forgotten to charge my device, I can light a candle and read my paper book.  I want to hold pictures in my hands and remember the people and events depicted in them.  When my computer crashes, I’ll be less sad, because I’ll have physical copies.

So friends, embrace the paper.  It is made from a natural, renewable source and is easy to recycle, so don’t bore me, I mean regale me with environmental issues.  It makes a satisfying crinkly noise and when left unopened for a while, a book issues a lovely musty (ok, it’s probably mold, I know…) smell when you crack it open.  Perhaps most importantly, last, but certainly not least, if you don’t like cleaning buckets or trash cans or carpets when someone has the upper end version of a stomach virus, a nice stiff, brown paper Kroger bag makes a fantastic, disposable barf bag.

Have a happy day!!  🙂

Meat vs Veg

Cattlemen's Steakhouse Fort Worth Stockyards
Cattlemen's Steakhouse Fort Worth Stockyards

Before this post goes any farther, I feel the need to include a disclaimer.  If you are a militant vegetarian, you may want to stop right now.  If you are a normal person who is a vegetarian, or a meat lover, read on…

On a recent trip to the grocery store, I was accosted by an occupy the meat case weirdo while buying a roast.  It was fairly mild, the standard, “How can you eat a “being” with a face?” cliche, to which I responded, “One bite at a time honey, one bite at a time” as I sauntered away with my roast tucked into my cart.  The following is what I REALLY wanted to say but did not have the time or energy for.

First of all my veggie friend, do you realize that plants are alive?  You are eating living beings.  Plants come from seeds, just like animals.  Plants eat, drink and grow, just like animals.  Plants participate in respiration just like animals.  They breathe in carbon dioxide and breathe out oxygen.  Do you realize that every single time you pull a plant from mother earth for your selfish eating purposes, you are suffocating every animal on the planet including yourself?  Plants are grown by evil, big agriculture in overcrowded conditions where they are sprayed with pesticides and stinky poop fertilizer.  They are genetically modified and exploited for their nutritive value.  Just because carrots don’t have mouths does not mean that they do not scream when you chop them up with a huge sharp knife, or even worse, eat them raw with your ripping teeth.  Plants can’t talk or look at us with soft brown eyes, but we DO know that if you talk to your houseplants, they grow better, so are you SURE they have no consiousness?

Second, isn’t being veg supposed to make you less aggressive and kinder and more understanding and stuff?  What makes you think it’s a good idea to walk up to a complete stranger and berate them about their food choices?  I would never come up to you and suggest that your pasty complexion might be the result of low protein or iron levels and that perhaps you should have a HAMBURGER.  It’s none of my business what you eat.  If you want to eat only leaves that have naturally fallen from trees so that you do not kill what I think I have established to be living beings, knock yourself out.  I don’t care.  Like I tell all the little tattle-y kids I teach, “Stop worrying about what little Johnny is doing and take care of yourself.  If you are doing what YOU should be doing, you wouldn’t notice that little Johnny is poking holes in his giant eraser instead of reading his packet.”  In other, more simple terms, mind your own business.

Do you realize that human beings are the only animals on earth who feel guilty for their basic living needs?  Get. Over. Yourself.  Just because you can think doesn’t mean you should die rather than eat or breathe or turn on a light.  Let’s all just get along.  I might be a meat eater, but I seem to be a lot less testy than some of the veg peeps out there.  Tolerance folks.  Not everyone in the world is just like everyone else.  That is one of the things that makes the world a wonderful place.  We all look different, we all like different things and we all eat different stuff.  Leave people alone for God’s sake.  I think the world would be a much nicer place if everyone just minded their own business and took care of themselves and quit worrying about what everyone else is doing or not doing or what everyone else thinks of them.  Who cares?  Just take people for what they are.  You can go home later and think “weirdo” to yourself, but do you really have to make people feel bad because of what they are?  I know and love some weird people and a lot of people know and love me and I’m pretty weird if I say so myself.  Relax friends, and if you find it hard to calm down, I find that a nice filet accompanied by a salad, baked potato and a nice yeasty roll make my life better.

Have a wonderful day and maybe a burger… 🙂

I Love The Mall and I Will NOT Be Ashamed

I went to the mall yesterday.  I needed to get a new coat and a couple of Christmas presents and a tuxedo shirt for my daughter to wear with her  band uniform.  Before I go any further, do you know that a stupid tuxedo shirt retails for 75.00???  Seriously.  I got some discounts, so it only cost me 50$, but this weekend, I’m going to the thrift store.  I kept my receipt.

So anyway…I went to Macy’s.  Now, I LOVE Kohl’s and Target and JcPenney and Walmart et.al., but there is something special about the mall.  Maybe it’s the shiny Christmas decorations and the music, or maybe it’s the smell of expensive THINGS, I’m not sure, but the mall is kinda heavenly.  In fact, I think it should be capitalized.  The Mall.  Yep, that seems more right.  They have more beautiful clothes. Real leather shoes. Real leather purses, wallets and belts.  Wool coats. Sparkly jewelry.  Martha Stewart homegoods. Lancome.  If you want really good makeup, go to the Mall.  “They” can tell you that Walgreen’s makeup is just as good, but you know what?  “They” lie.  “They” tell you that, so that when you are broke and have to buy your stuff at the drugstore, you feel better about it and you know I’m speaking the truth.  I bought expensive face powder and got a sample of some kind of collagen face cream stuff, I’ve used it twice and I swear to you, as GOD is my witness, I look better all ready.  I’ve been using some Fructise stuff from Walmart for the last several years and it has done NOTHING.

One other good thing about the Mall?  In these dark days of slow economic collapse, stores like Macy’s are starting to offer deals that make them seem more like Kohl’s.  I got a 145$ wool coat for 54 bucks.  It was a one day sale and if I had gotten there before one, I could’ve used a ten dollar off coupon and only paid 44$, but you get my point.  Do you know what they did with my cheap coat?  They left it on the hanger and put a plastic garment bag over it and tied the bottom.  They didn’t wad it up and shove it in a crappy plastic bag.  My other clothing purchases were likewise folded and placed nicely in their bag, again, not grabbed in a pile and shoved in, actually honest to God folded in a nice little package.  By the salesperson, not by me.

And oh yeah, speaking of crappy plastic bags,  the department stores at the mall have shopping bags.  You remember those from your childhood right?  Large PAPER bags with little twisted paper handles that you can put multiple purchases in?  Bags that will stand up on their bottoms when you are paying for something else without sliding over and spilling your goods all over the floor?  Bags that make you feel kind of cool and excited?  Remember those?  They still have them.  It’s kind of the bag version of a restaurant where you sit down and eat THEN pay as opposed to the places where you stand in line, pay first and THEN get to eat.

My point in talking about this I guess, is that although people will tell you that buying “stuff” is bad and selfish and all that bossy crap, buying “stuff” is actually fun.  It is even MORE fun when it is on sale, and when it comes from the Mall, and when  you take it home in a real, honest to God shopping bag.

Happy consumering friends !! 🙂