Honey Badger Press

We've moved to www.honeybadgerpress.com! Come join me for fabulousness and new stuff!

One....

24 hours until Honey Badger Press fabulousness!

Two....

Three...

Four...

Sticker Family Haiku

Sticker family
Vanilla fucktardery
Then we found zombies

My sticker family can eat your sticker family's brains!
The Man bought these for me today...he knows zombies & shoes are the way to my heart!



Grocery Store Fucktardery



Seriously, stop crying, it's just a scrape from my grocery cart.



I need to vent and get a crazy check. Perhaps I am too picky but I am curious to know what you all think about my latest grocery store incident. We have discussed a few times how much I absolutely love to grocery shop. I really do, unless some one goes with me or people bring their brats. I hate that, in fact, I will try to mow down screaming brat spawns of Satan with my cart. I know, it seems harsh on the surface but if their mothers will not teach them to not be heard and stay out of the drunk lady with hooker heels way, then I will graciously be the bad guy. I see it as my service to the public. Like the military but I correct bad behavior with wine and harsh soul breaking words instead of machine gun rounds. Seriously, I wish grocery stores would have an over 21 only shopping happy hour. And serve drinks. 

Another trigger to spring  a crazy cussing lady melt down is when the baggers don't put my groceries in proper order. It's quite easy: dairy with dairy, meat with meat, box shit together and so on. Don't put my steak in the bag with my salad and tampons. Additionally, for the love of Jeebus and all that is supposedly holy, DO NOT put my wine and NyQuil in a flimsy plastic sack that will no doubt rip and splatter my stay sane cocktail on to the ground. So to avoid a God Fatheresque scene, I tend to bag my own groceries which leads me to my latest grocery store annoyance. The cart.  Along with not wanting some kid who probably just spanked his monkey in the public restroom and didn't wash his hands to bag my groceries; I prefer to take my shit out to my truck myself. I have no rational reason but why start trying to find good reasons for my behavior now. Recently I went to the fancy grocery store with wood floors, perfect displays and not one brat to be heard. Holy fuck, I found heaven! It was as perfect as perfect could be until it was time to take my bounty to my car. 

"Do you need help out?"
"Nope, I got it. Thanks."
"Really, I can help you." (sparkly smile)
"No thanks, I got it." (touch my cart and I kill you )
"I have to help you, Ma'am." (please don't hurt me)
"WHAT?" (back up or you will never father children after I am done with you)
Store Manager inserts his big head
"Our policy is that guests can't take carts out." (I'm the Manager and demand your respect)
"Why not?" (Fuck off baldy)
"Because we want to make sure they will stay on our property." (you look shifty, lady)
"The cart won't fit in my pocket or car plus it doesn't go with the toilet in my yard." (top that, ass bag)
"Ok, I will just watch you take it to your car." (because you might shoot me or put my head in the freezer)

And so I took my groceries to my truck. Alone. Really slowly. I may have taken a few unnecessary laps around other cars. I think if I have to go back there, I will walk in front of the carry out guy really slowly and crop dust him all the way to my car.

Poetic Fork

Choices. We all have them but we all also have this internal flow chart that mucks up the ability to make the choice we desire and settle for the choice that is right for us at the time. We have all been there, and likely are there often. You know where there is. The poetic fork in the road; one way pays you in quickly devaluing cash to support your family, necessities and their happiness. The other pays you in soul, living color and large servings of blissfully selfish  happy with a cherry on top. Having to choose between supporting a family and living your ideal life almost always comes down to money. Doing the right thing. Surviving.

I never set out to be a divorced single mom at the young and inexperienced age of 21. My 21 was more like being 17. I got married right out of high school because it was that or be homeless. I divorced at 21 because I had this beautiful baby girl and I knew the life we had was just settling for survival. I became determined to show her a  life that she could navigate the way she wanted, embrace her choices, make mistakes and feel the sweet breeze of freedom no matter which direction she walked. Most importantly, I knew I had to teach her to be independent and to never feel like marriage was her only choice. Let me add a disclaimer here, because she reads this blog and her Daddy might too, I have told her a gazillion times that our divorce had nothing to do with her. It had every thing to do with us wanting what's best for her; a happy home.  We weren't happy and knew she wouldn't be either unless we made a decision. Our marriage came to a fork and the only right decision was for us to go on different paths. She's lucky because her Daddy has always been there for her and she is the epitome of a Daddy's Girl. She has never had to question if  I, he or we love her. As divorced parents go, we made sure she knew we were hers and we both have been there every step of the way. Was it always easy, hell to the no it wasn't but we both agreed that her happiness was, and still is, priority one. With all of that said, there is no denying shit was hard and some where along the way me ceased to be a real fleshy being and I stopped feeding the me soul.

I didn't choose to be an Executive Assistant/ Office Manager for twenty years. The job's high pay, single mom friendly schedule and benefits chose us. I don't begrudge it because I made great money, and as single parent households go, we didn't need or want for anything. There were a few rough patches but The Girl lived a normal middle class life. She had a nice home, meals, sports teams, gymnastics, birthday parties, nice clothes, pets and a mom who was involved. That was the path I did choose. If I was going to be a mom, her mom, I was going to be super mom. Super Mom was all about The Girl. Eighteen years of living and breathing all things school, drama, home work, PTA meetings, booster clubs, soccer, soft ball, boy friends, break ups, make up, proms, driving, scary ass car wrecks, FFA, shopping, living, mourning our lost ones and enriching her life. I don't share all of this so every one will politely applaud while thinking I am wanting to be some martyr as if my story is that much different than yours. I was so wrapped up in being her that I sorta forgot about me and that is a danger to any woman. I share it because eventually when those little beings grow up and flee to the world ,you have that day when you look in the mirror and say what the fuck am I supposed to be doing now and who is that woman looking back at me because she doesn't feel  like me.

With the move to New City, The Man insisted I take three months off to just be and explore what I wanted to do next. Who did I want to be, for me. Does that make perfect sense yet seem exceedingly foreign to any other woman? Ninety days to just breath a bit, decompress from my mighty mom power suit and get comfortable with casually chic Cat? And so I didn't. I jumped right back into stay busy and don't breath mode because that was comfortable to me. The break neck speed of  stay busy or fall apart because my baby is three hundred miles away, writing 24/7 and constantly marketing me and my blog made it on purpose impossible to squeeze in a tiny bit of quiet time to sit down and just be. To deal with being me and not being Super Mom. So I broke up with my blog for a few weeks. Made myself go to bed at a reasonable time to read, talk about our plans and giggle in bed with The Man. I spent a week on the couch in my underwear, drinking coffee and mindlessly just being. Anxiety attacks ensued, many WTF am I doing phone calls and texts were sent to friends and more than once I contemplated running away. After all of that emotional purging and getting my shit straight, I feel all better now. It was a necessary transition time to say good bye to being who I needed to be and welcome who I want to be.  I feel good about where I have chosen to be. No strings attached. A choice that 100% pays in a full filled soul, doing what I love, having an identity that is me and not a job title, every thing I have always wanted with a man who for whatever reason loves my crazy ass just how I am. Thanks for being patient to those of you who stuck around.

New People, New Job & The Girl Is Revealed

I'm pretty amazed that there are 600+  20,000 of you that check in to stalk read about what I have to babble about day to day. I decided to re share this post, with updates, so the new people will know who they are dealing with! SO read on for what's new to you and the updates for those of you who are part of that first 600 I am still grateful to.  A few of you comment, but alot of you email me and ask questions. Questions are ok- but the same questions x 100 makes my Tylenol PM wear off before noon. This is especially bad on a Sunday here in the great country of Texas. You see, Texas loves church- and until church lets out at noon, I can't go buy wine. Which is odd- because some churches give you wine at 9 in the morning. And a cookie. Maybe church isn't so bad.

Most of you are women, which is awesome, because it's Boobies against Sticks everyday out in the real world and we have to band together. Sticks should continue to read, because they will probably learn a little about the Boobies here that will save their asses from a murderous PMS fueled rage one day. You're welcome. Lots of you want to know more about me: do I have regrets, am I married, why no pictures of The Girl, why do I over share, what is a "crabbit", do I have siblings, where do I live and so on. So here it is, Interweb, the skinny on Cat.

1. My favorite job ever was when I was a short order cook. I rocked at that. Also- every time I drive by that place, I giggle. One night I was cleaning the vent hood and melted my dance team shoes to the grill. Wonder if they can still taste 18 year old drill team feet on the burgers. Today I will start a PT waitressing job because I really miss working in a restaurant and it's not quite time to ramp up the real estate business we moved here to start. So I need some thing to do for a few months. I know, no one ever says they miss working in a restaurant, but I am seeing it through opportunity tinted glasses. Looking around New Town, we see a void that we want to fill in the eat out arena and no better way to learn the local climate than to let some one pay me to get schooled. Besides that, I imagine I will have really good stories to share with you. 

2. I'm a Leo, which makes me these things: bossy, patronizing, egotistical, pompous, dogmatic, pushy, materialistic , over-dramatic, argumentative, possessive, jealous, voracious, arrogant and intolerant. It also makes me these things: fun loving ,dignified, passionate, affectionate, ardent, loyal, strong, independent, noble, magnetic , powerful, creative, protective, adoring , playful, inventive, generous, supportive, warm, broad-minded and faithful.

3. If you break my heart, you will only do it once. Some things can't be forgiven or forgotten. causing an intentional heart break is on that list.

4. I feel robbed that I didn't have my Father in my life. I think alot about him lately and wish I had known him enough to form my own opinions and save my own memories of him. As it stands, my only memory of him is from his funeral.

5. Ditto for not knowing my Aunts, Grand Parents, Cousins, Uncles and so on.

6. I started blogging for therapy and because of #2 and because I need the planet to pay attention to my weight loss and pressure me to keep my lbs. truth in check. Can it get ugly here on my blog- indeed. But life is about the messy stuff more than it is about the easy stuff. At least you nut cases out there will know you are not alone.

7. I totally relate to the characters Ree in Winter's Bone and Elle Woods in Legally Blonde.

8. The Girl's cat is really a crabbit. His front looks like a cat, his back parts look like a rabbit and he acts like a dog. The equivalent of a platypus in the house pet world.

9. I like gross stuff, alot! I love to watch anything about surgery, hoarders, weird disorders, gross health stuff, fart jokes and so on. This is why The Man refuses to show me how to record TLC & Discovery shows on the Tivo. But I can't stand to see an animal squished on the side of the road. Makes me cry.

10. I think I am OCD- "Organized in Case of Disaster". My shoes are lined up like little soldiers, my underwear drawer is sectioned off by type and color and my pantry has all of the cans turned forward. I know where my shit is at all times just in case Glenn Beck is right- and the world is about to end. Or we are invaded by zombies. I know where my gun is and I can easily find the right ensemble, survivor food and stilettos in case either of those happen. I love zombies.

11. The world should take note: if anyone dare hurt The Girl- I will have zero problem with ripping your head off with my bare hands. Zero issue with going to jail for avenging her. And there is zero chance you will ever be heard from, seen again or found.

12. I don't like opera, rap or The Beatles. I'll pretty much listen to everything else at least once. I have wet dreams about Johnny Cash.

13. I love the Constitution, this country and the NRA. In that order.

14. I'm not religious in the churchy sense but if you are- I will listen to you. If you try to baptize me- good luck with that- i've been dunked in the church three times and it still hasn't stuck. So let's make a deal- I will respect your thoughts & beliefs but if you don't show me the same courtesy , I will set you on fire. Or blog about you. And use your real name. You have been warned.

Me & The Girl at a recent photo shoot. She made sure
I laughed the whole time and didn't look too "mommish".

15. I do not ever post pictures of The Girl or use her name. Too many creeps out there and selfishly,  she  is all mine. I will give you little glimpses of her- but never will you see her. Plus see #11 ( I really don't want to go to jail because I am certain the black and white horizontal striped jumpers will make me look like a rhino-zebra hybrid from the back. Jail or not- this Cat needs to look pretty). I had to change this policy once The Girl rallied for recognition. She said, "Mom, I am in college now and can shoot a gun. No one will mess with me, and if they do, they will wish they hadn't". So here she is, My Girl, the one true thing in the world that I can say is mine and that I did 100% perfectly.

16. My sister calls me "Ugly", and that is my favorite nickname. Because she loves me, just how I am, and wouldn't have me any other way. Besides, I have to like it, because that particular sister pretty much has every speck of dirt there is to have on me- and she saw it all first hand. And no way do I want her sharing it. No. Way.

17. My brother is my hero. He knows why and that is all that matters.

18. My other sister is my polar opposite. I never really appreciated that about her, or her, until recently- now I get why she is her and the whys that make her tick. She would take a bullet for me- and has taken quite a few non-literal ones from me. For whatever reason, she still answers her door when I show up and invites me in. Good thing- I would be pretty lost right now without her. Think Xena Warrior Princess with a brood of kids she will kill for. Scary huh?

19. The Man is the right to all of my wrong and makes me laugh all of the time. Truth be told- he is the perfect balance to my Leo. He's a retired Air Force guy- and this makes him tip the sexy scale to crazy limits. He's handsome and has enough trouble making boy left in him to make it impossible for me to be mad at him. He gets that I am high maintenance, pouty, proud, damaged, emotional, crazy, independent and vain. He understands I have a driving need to feel safe, secure and cared for. He likes me just how I am and exceeds at all of the things a man is and does for a woman. My family should pay him for putting up with me.

20. I have always loved to write. We all have that thing we can say without apology that we are great at- writing is mine. I wish I had some of the things I wrote when I was a kid but privacy in my room or my thoughts wasn't a luxury I was afforded. Often I would stay up late writing my thoughts, happenings and dreams- then promptly flush them down the toilet before they could be discovered and interrogated.

21. I am currently writing a book about turning 40 and a novel that is biographical fiction (go wrap your head around that), writing for an Austin based magazine and a children's book based on my retarded cat and The Man's not so nice blind dog ( I know, I know...no cussing at the under 18 group). Oh, and a blog.

22. I have officially let myself off of the hook for any regrets I had, made my apologies to anyone I hurt purposely and buried the long list of child hood hurts and wrongs I lived through.

23. I say what I mean and mean what I say knowing any of you could  get butt hurt. But hope you will keep reading.

24. I love shoes, the higher the better. I have well over 100 pair. I need more.

25. Sarcasm is my constant companion.

26. I have about 60 friends. Seven of them I know will help me bury a body and ask no questions. They are my BFF's and will drop everything, fly from anywhere and bail me out of jail at a moments notice. These are the people that The Girl has on speed dial- because they will do it for her also.

27. Some things I can't bring myself to forgive- and I am ok with that.

28. My adult life has gone like this: graduated from HS, got married, had The Girl, got divorced, work & school, school & work, married, divorced, freak out because The Girl is now 18 and going on to college, moved in with The Man, about to move out of the city I have lived in for the past 33 years and now writing. Nope- no stress causing life events here. It's all been perfectly peachy with a dash of Jack Daniel's. Shaken. And not gently.

29. A soon as I walk in the door- I take of my pants/skirt/shorts. At home, my standard operating outfit is a tank top and panties. Sorry neighbors (shouldn't be looking through my windows anyway...pervs).

30. I am addicted to coffee and that's ok with me. I drink a pot in the morning and a pot at night. Possibly some through out the day.

31. My biggest brightest accomplishment in my life is The Girl. She is the one thing I can wholly say is mine, I made her, I raised her, I love her. She's mine and is the most glorious, wonderful, funny beautiful woman I will ever set eyes on.

Want to keep up with me during the day? Join me on FaceBook ....I know I know, shameless self promotion. See #2 and file that away under "I told you so".

Skinny Cat all day long on Facebook!

Shoe Porn: Classic Hooker

What's not to love about these? Pony hair pumps with a very stunning leopard print trimmed out by bright red patent leather. That's a modest 4" heel and easy to strut around in all day because it is thick and has a large pointy end (boys, hold your pervy comments). These are the "Zasperf" by Bandolino...my all time favorite shoe maker. They consistently make a very sexy shoe that stands the test of time. These are hot but subtly hooker. These were a splurge purchase at Nordstrom's for $150.  A quick search on Google yielded zero results for this shoe. It's a limited edition but I am surprised to not find it even at Zappo's. If you can find a pair, snap them up. Sizes are .5 smaller than true. I wear a 10 but a 9.5 in Bandolinos. Good luck on your hunt and let us all know if you find these anywhere...after you secure your pair, of course!

Thrift Store WTFery

Life gets so messy sometimes that it takes months to clean up. I recently wrapped up  divorce  numero  dos (don't be jealous if you haven't even arrived at #1 yet...it will come..trust me). We were out of love for years, separated for another year and in a divorce free fall for months. It wasn't ugly, just one of those "hey, do you smell what I smell?" type deals. Even if it was an epic shit storm, I wouldn't tell you anyway. For sure not here. He has my dogs, and next time I visit, I don't want to be in the position of noticing they are missing after I have eaten the oh so meaty chili. Mr. Ex was nice enough to let me stash my stockpile of useless crap in his spare room for a very long time. I finally went back to Austin a couple of weekends ago to pick up what I thought was a few boxes. Upon entering the room and being greeted by floor to ceiling boxes (not counting what was stashed in the closet) it became clear I was one box of shit shy of being a Hoarder's episode.

After sorting through the mountains of crap I had forgotten I abandoned stored there, I packed my SUV within an inch of it's life. Consequently, this made driving home a bit tricky since I couldn't see out of the windows. I was certain at every curve that this would be the one that I roll my truck on. I had anxiety over my dead body being found splayed out next to my boxes of pictures, craft crap and files. If any one found me, they would quickly surmise I was a lonely old weirdo with hundreds of files of boring and would likely start a search for the twenty cats I should have with me. Unless they found the one bag of excitement I had in my possession. A bag packed with pastel yellow rubber whips and bright pink and yellow straws. With penis heads to suck on. Now before you get any measure of judgemental, they were for a friends divorce party. Since my plan for all of this crap was to sell it in a garage sale in New City and make a few bucks for new hooker heels and new Fall make up; I didn't think it was appropriate to sell nasty dirty but oh so fun penis straws at a garage sale in front of my house. I dumped them in a men's restroom at a truck stop instead of risking their accidental appearance at my sale right as the very Christian home schooled kids across the street were looking for craft projects. Somewhere in Texas is a trucker really pissed at me because the guy that used the bathroom after him thinks said trucker is a weirdo that likes sipping his beer through a wiener head. I bet that asshat never tail gates a truck that looks like mine again.

During the garage sale, a youngish cute pregnant couple buys stuff. A lot of stuff. They proceed to tell is that they are stocking their new home on the cheap. Aaaw how sweet! Youngish middle aged love about to pop their spawn out of fun city and they are padding their nest. Awesome, at this moment, I'm happy they hauled my useless crap very valuable heirlooms and rare antique furnishings away. Fast forward to Saturday. The Man and I are in dire need of a coffee table because we just sold the leather ottoman that the cat likes to dry hump like a lusty teenager in the garage sale. We decide a funky lime green table is our goal, and knowing there is no way in hell we will find that at a furniture store, we head to the thrift shop to make our own shabby cheap table. Holy hell, the first table we come to is perfectly funky awesome and will look epic after we spray paint  and add new handles to it! While The Man goes to make a deal, I look over to the next booth. WTF! There is my lamp, glass pitcher and other crap I just sold to that  lying bastard couple! I've been screwed and the only wet spot to prove it is the rabid pissed foam frothing from my fangs. Seriously? WTFery is this? I gave them awesome deals because I was having a moment of compassion (see Kittens, that never pays).  The guy recognizes that I recognize him. So does his fat ugly pregnant hooker. She bolts. He breaks eye contact. I tell the back of his head, "Hey congratulations for completing that junks circle of life! I bought that crap for less than you paid me for it at this very thrift store to sell at my garage sale". That was a tiny white lie of course, but sometimes that's just the spot light needed to make some one's asshattery shine to it's full potential.

Get more Skinny Cat every day on Face Book by clicking here!

Weekly Wrap Up: 9.24.11

Quote:
"Maybe he can take care of the bulge after he gets a refund for his craptastic boobs." -Laurie Mayfield in regards to a truly shitastic picture I posted  here on FB on 9/19.

Picture:



We had fun with at this guy on Skinny Cat Facebook.
"Russell Brand in 20 years" -Kathy Low

Most Read Post:
It's Momster Season. And guess what? Anonym Ass has yet to reply. Sigh, I was truly hoping for some bitchtastic banter.

What's Up for Artsy Chicks Tomorrow:
Do you know an Artsy Chick who would like to be featured tomorrow? Leave a comment below with a link to her Etsy and/or FaceBook page!

Next Week's Fail Theme:

Sex toys. Yeah, there are lots of fails in this category! Get your eye bleach ready!

What's New:

How about some more Dirty Dictionary vocabulary?

Best Bloggity Post I Read:

If you're a dating girl, guy or smart ass pirate; you have to check this blog out. Most times funny and other times creepy scary.

Big Red Flags...Those Warning Signs You Spotted But Chose To Ignore

Anonym Ass

I woke up at 6:00 AM today to a beautiful cool Fall morning with big plans to break out the Crock Pot , bake cookies, go with The Man to get a new tattoo and just enjoy a down day. I brewed a pot of coffee, grabbed a stack of reading I have been ignoring, added my sketch book to the stack so I could start outlining today's post and headed out to the front porch. Perfect. Quiet. Just me and the birds and the occasional neighbor out on a walk. When 8 AM rolled around, I packed up and headed to my office to start writing and working on a few Honey Badger Press projects.

My first order of business every morning  is to check for comments to approve and post. I  hate having to "approve" comments but I had to start doing it because some  douche canoe was posting rude and aggressive comments towards my Kittens. Of course all under the  "Anonymous" name. Not only is that uncool, it pisses me off when people hide behind anonymity to be asshats out loud and fly their douche bag banners. So, I had to start holding comments for approval instead of just letting them flow onto the blog when you intend them to. Guess who the first comment was from today? Yep, one spineless Anonym Ass. I'm totally fine with most anonymous comments because they are generally complimentary, funny, insightful or represent a different opinion and do not equal a verbal drive by. Those are all welcome anonymous comments. However, if  you want to go out on a personal attack on me or a fan, then you should have the man sack to sign your name. Otherwise, you are a douche. A pussy. A fucktard. All rolled into one hairy invertebrate window licker. 

On the Momsters post, Anonym Ass posted this little gem, "Excise each "momster" and just put your own name there. I have no doubt, you're a Democrat". I started the task of taking the douche to the carpet in a rebuttal comment but then realized a post would be much more fun and perhaps a learning experience for them and entertainment for you. So here it is, my response, and more about me than I bet the asshat ever wanted to know:

• On Being A Momster: I am not in that particular fucktarded club because I actually know how to drive/park my SUV, I don't have little bratty kids, I don't go to the bacon aisle for happy hour, I have the social intelligence to move the fuck out of people's way, I am considerate (at first)- and perhaps most importantly- I have the backbone to speak up and sign my name to whatever it is I might have to say whether anyone might like it or not. Unlike you. 

• On My Political Alignment: I am not certain how you can claim to extract my political views from this, or any other, post. My blog  is a no political bullshit zone. Since you seem to be interested, I am the farthest one could possibly be from a "Democrat". My political views are more closely aligned to Libertarian values and that little piece of paper we call The Constitution. From your attempt to insult me ( I think) I can only pontificate that you are the dimmest of whits and the only tripe* you could regurgitate from Fox News was to call me a Democrat because they use it as an insult. Which I don't understand because I would rather have dinner with a Democrat any day than some nitwit that doesn't even have a name they are proud enough of to sign to their shitty comments. I will give you one free pass to web redemption and challenge you to come up with something more creative and colorful to call me;  perhaps a new addition to the Dirty Dictionary! Go ahead, we are all waiting to read what you come up with.

• On Personal Attacks: I suggest you go read more about me on a post labeled, "Ask And You Shall Possibly Regret That You Did".  Then you can get all ape shit crazy and post your comments. But don't be a pussy and and try to be combative. Make a good argument, say something thought provoking, disagree but back your opinion. In short, don't be a tool.  However, I can call you out because :

1. This is my blog
2. My fans would think I was a giant pussy if I didn't
3. I proudly sign my name to it all and
4. This is my blog

• On Being Anonymous:  Perhaps you should Google how to set appropriate privacy settings  on your device because as it is now- I can see your IP address and your email address. They both posted with your comment but I decided to be nice and not let that information be public for all of the interweb to see. Yet. So you see, it doesn't ever pay to be an assclown because sometimes Karma is instant. Clueless dumbass, line one!

As far as my day went, it was truly fantabulous! Home made chicken & dumplings were perfectly Fall and delicious. Our four hours at the tattoo shop equalled a ton a fun because our tat guy was a riot and some hot 21 year old flashed her very perfect boobies at us. The Man was delighted and so was I. Nothing wrong with thinking perky boobies are a site to behold! I didn't get to the cookies but I did pop open a new bottle of wine, wrapped up an article , chatted with my sister, hit 200 fans on Skinny Cat Facebook and made progress on other fun stuff. I declare today an epic win!

*tripe...thanks for that Amanda!

Shoe Porn: I Love The Man

I love The Man. I was boo-hooing that I wanted needed a new pair of black hooker heels and looking like a pathetic monkey because the 120 pair I have are somehow not enough. He came home the next day with these fabulous Anne Michelle sky scraping, platform, zip up the back, fucktastic jet black heart breakers! He bought them on the Air Force Base for me ( I know- I am shocked- they have a freakin' Coach boutique also!). These were on clearance for $12! Sizes run big. I usually wear a 10 but these are perfect at 9.5. These are surprisingly comfy, fun and trendy. Because they are trendy and might be ass ugly come next Summer- they are a deal brand new for $25 at http://www.anne-michelle.com/. Go on and get ya some so we can all be fabulous together!

It's Momster Season

I declare a moratorium on Momsters. Neh, open season is a more permanent solution. You know them, those mommytards that are hopelessly delusional and seriously believe the world is revolving around them and the rest of us are their live and too annoyed to laugh audience. They generally can be spotted in a bigger than Godzilla SUV or a gold trimmed Town & Country. Coincidentally, they can not spot you because their hair, phone, bouncing screaming evil devil spawn mini-morons and catching up on an episode of Real Housetards of Wherever have distracted them from the speeding kamafuckingkazi traffic around them and their ability to pay attention to  someone other than themselves. Uh-oh, Kittens, get ready for some serious ass hurt because I am so ready to taze a bitch next time I see her in the grocery store yapping up a shit storm and ruining my wine and cheese sampling or trying to go all Mad Max on my truck because she was drinking/eating/slapping a brat/updating her FaceBook while driving. There is no mercy here in WTFville for momsters. None.

They've been in my life in one form or another for roughly eighteen years or as long as I have been a  Mommy. When The Girl was little I didn't notice them enough to be annoyed. They blipped my radar but in an amusing I hope I never act like that sort of way. Then she started to play soccer, go to gymnastics and join the softball team in high school. Oh holy hell did I ever almost lose my grip on reality. Aside from the constant competing for Queen Bee Momster status in the booster club and snack rotation, to which I loathed participating in but had to so The Girl wouldn't get put on the fun blacklist, there is the constant bragging about their perfect kid(s), their perfect homes and Martha Stewart ninja skills. I hate to be the one to deliver this message to any current or up and coming Moms but there is no such thing as perfect. Not one kid is perfect and that's what makes them incredibly entertaining and fun to hang around. Perfect is a lie that hangs around with Santa and the Easter Bunny... every one has heard about them yet no one has actually seen them.

By the way, stop acting like the game/play/recital is about you. It is not. It is about them trying to make you proud and no matter how horribly wrong said event goes you need to clap, cheer and tell that kid how awesome he/she is. You know what Momster? If you want some glory and a gold star, go join a whatever team for self loathing I have to relive my childhood manic pathetic women. I bet they will totally love your team snack contributions and blow the obligatory smoke up your ass. As for me, please be warned, should I ever happen to hear you berating your poor kid in public again because they didn't score and YOU are embarrassed- be prepared to get pimp checked by yours truly. I am so going to give you a reason to have to surgically remove your puckered butthole out of your throat and your kid is going to fist bump me in gratitude. M'kay?

 Lastly, I would like to request that when you are in the grocery store please just shop. Don't be the turd that's clogging up the shopper rotation in the aisles. Seriously, I can not stand it when a self absorbed momster is yammering away with her tardpack and no one (me) can't get to the bacon. This happened to me the other day. I had my coffee, my list and I was set to shop and not be annoyed. But no, a flotella of douche canoes had dropped anchor in the lunch meat aisle. I have no idea what the bitches were talking about but they were oblivious to me and the other four (FOUR!!!) shoppers who were staring holes into their heads and trying to make them spontaneously combust. We all stood there staring at them and getting more pissed by the nano second. Eyes starting meeting and four silent "i'm too much of a pussy to say anything" were floated into the air like an obnoxious beer fart that no one wanted to claim. Fine, I will say something because it's cold in the meat aisle and all I want is some thick cut bacon and silence.

"Excuse me"

"Sorry, we're in your way!" Followed by giggles.

So I stare because I spoke so they would move- not stay put.

"EXCUSE ME."

Bitches move. Like a total of five feet. Three of us get by only to be log jammed again.

So I again say, "EXCUSE MEEE!"

"I guess we're always in your way!" one replied in a fuck off we're talking about crazy monkey sex with the gardner and this is the only time I get to brag to the Bunko Girls tone.

Um, uh oh.

"Yes, you are always in all of our way because while we are trying to shop you all are having social fucking hour in the deli aisle and seem to be oblivious that this is a public super market and not your very own rude lady private club".

Blank stares.

Flotella drifts to the baby aisle, which is fine because I stay way clear of that area anyway, and we can all resume shopping without the Momster noise. No one says thank you as they quickly scatter and go to any aisle except the one I am in. Which is fantastic because all I wanted was silence to begin with. Chickens.

Coffee Is My Soul Mate

I was re-reading my past posts for inspiration and this one caused a slight pisshap. I remember this day so vividly. Not only did I feel like a super hero in hooker shoes this day- but I truly had a fantastic time laughing at it with my co-workers. We were all in the same craptastic boat floating aimlessly on the the Down Size River not knowing if we would have a job at the end of the scary white water adventure. This particilar day it did not matter because it was just us being awesome and giggling.

So,  my fellow Seton/Atos/Dell friends,  today is to you! I miss you all, the laughs and the epic plans for IT domination that included a margarita machine in every server room.

----------------------------

Hi my name is Cat, and I am addicted to coffee. I drink alot of it. I drink it in the morning, lunch, afternoon and dare I say, before bed. Hope Mr. Man isn't reading this because I am about to be in trouble. If I go out with Carrie, you can bet after happy hour and me begging her to carry me down the stairs because I can't navigate them in 4 inch stilettos- there is coffee. Lots of strong Italian coffee. It's not about being able to walk in said shoes, because I can strut so bad ass in them that Naomi Campbell flys into a jealous rage and throws phones at my head. Well, that's what would happen if she was rolling with us but our Honey Badger Bus is already full of glitter,crazy and fabulous- so she has not been invited. It's because after Carrie makes me drink 3 margaritas and a beer, she makes the stairs go all steep and wobbly. And after she makes me scoot down them on my ass I always get a cup of coffee or two. Followed by a time out on the park bench while we heckle the security guard and anyone else in the parking lot. We know the coffee has done it's job once we don't think we are funny anymore. And now I will have my Carrie pass revoked, again, by Mr. Man.

Because I love the bean so much- I took an epic dive for it this morning at work. At. Work! You see, some ass munch keeps taking the holy grail of free office coffee (that would be Folger's) up to the second floor. There were pissed people in the kitchen- going all Sparta because we only had Starbuck's to drink. Bet Folgers wishes they had a camera rolling here today!

I was feeling heroic in my cute heels and spray on tan so I reached into the back of the freezer to pull out my trump coffee card- a bucket of Folger's- look at me be fabulous fellow cubicle land prairie dogs. Look at me! So there I am, in a cute short khaki skirt, pretty coral sweater and of course, nude high heeled strappy sandals. I was having a moment- Office Manger saves the day AGAIN! So I go to open it- oh smell the coffee my followers - bow down and say thank you. As I am taking the lid off, the fucking bucket squeezes out from under my lady arm pit death grip, bounces off the table and skids across the floor- leaving a trail of wasted coffee and broken caffeine dreams behind it.

Tears , shock and horror all around. I go to grab the shitty Folger's bucket soft ball dive style and mid skid recall I am wearing a fucking skirt and these nerds awesome IT guys do not need to see my ass or my Hello Kitty panties so I attempt to stop in my fabulous heels. I do not stop. At all. They keep going. Without me. Really universe. REALLY!!!! Epic coffee save denied. On the bright side, I read that coffee reduces your chances of cancer! Holy crap- at the rate I drink coffee I am good for this and my next 10 lives. Hell, I bet if I go rub on you- you will be safe also. So just to be sure- I am going right now to meet my sweet but lethal Puerto Rican Sandra at Starbuck's to get a venti- non whip -soy-something -cancer blocker. See the sacrifices I make for you guys? I love you like I love coffee!

Copy Cat: Brutal Truths and Best Friends

Brutal Truths and Best Friends

Posted on September 12, 2011 by carriefalquist

http://rockermomrambles.wordpress.com/

I love having friends who refuse to blow sunshine up my ass. That would encompass most of my true friends. We just don’t bullshit one another, and as a result, have a level of trust and camaraderie that a lot of folks just don’t understand. I find it epically awesome. Not your ordinary awesome, but like gold star, highlighted in glitter pen “AWESOME.”

My girl Cat is in town, and I have missed her like crazy. You’ve probably read blogs about this friendship, our escapades when we spent 3 nights a week at Dallas Nite Club because we had $5.00 between us and they had a queso bar so we could eat. Also, we never had to buy our own beer. We’d stand at the bar, give each other a kiss, and suddenly the shots and longnecks would start coming our way. That’s is a whole other story. She’s one of the most direct, funny, kick ass people on the planet. If you haven’t read her blog, you’re missing out. I suggest you do so, as soon as you’re done reading mine.

Yesterday, she came over to get ready so we could head downtown to attend a launch party for a new magazine she contributes to. I couldn’t decide what dress I wanted to wear, so I was trying on a couple. I put on my new little hot pink number, and showed her.

Cat – “I don’t like it.”

Me – “Really? I love this dress.”

Cat – “I like it too. But not on you tonight.”

Me – “Do I look fat? Does it make my boobs look stupid?”

Cat – “No. You look like you grubbed on queso and enchiladas at 1am last night, and I know you’re going to be a raving bitch if you have to a)wear spanx under it in 100 degree heat or b)suck in all night so you don’t see a picture of yourself and jump in front of a train.”

Me – “Good point… let’s try the little black one!”

This is the kind of brutal honesty I appreciate about my friend. She would not let me leave the house in something I wasn’t going to completely rock. So the hot pink dress has been shelved for a later date (hopefully a DATE date), and I left in a sexy black dress that did not require some sort of foundation garment. Because let’s be real, had I needed to wear Spanx under my dress, I would have been crabby.

So we go to this party, walking 4 blocks in 5″ hooker heels. (Side note: I did not fall down once) On the way to the event, we pass by a patio where there are some boring looking women drinking wine and trying to be snarky to the passersby. Me, being used to people staring at me when I go places, especially when I’m 6’3″ in hooker heels and have hot pink hair and people are wondering if I’m a tranny, didn’t notice. Cat, on the other hand has Spidey sense when it comes to other women being bitchtastic, hears them say something about us. What does she do? She stops, turns to them with “the look” and goes “Problem? Issue? No? I didn’t think so.” I turn back, and these girls are sitting there with their glasses of Chardonnay and sensible shoes, slack jawed that the Amazon blonde verbally bitch slapped them. See why I love this girl? During this short walk, not one, not two, but three people said something about my hair. And, as I find happens every time I leave the home and interact with the general public, one of them said “You have pink hair.” Wow. Thank you Captain Obvious. I think I’m going to start telling people I see on the street “You’re wearing a t-shirt” or “You have male pattern baldness.” You know, just in case they weren’t aware.

We get to the party, meet a few people, I buy a $3.00 Topo Chico because I love me some fizzy water and I was dehydrated after my cross town hike in strappy fuck me shoes. Party was “meh” so we decide we’d rather go have a beer at the Mean Eyed Cat, then find some Mexican food somewhere. (Again, thank you dear friend for not letting me wear the clingy pink number that would have been all kinds of tight in the wrong places after yet another meal of queso.)

On the way back to the car (four blocks AGAIN in the *@*$&^% shoes), we stop to chat with the valet attendant, because well, we’re friendly. Cat turns, catches the heel of her leopard print peep toe stiletto on a manhole cover, starts to go down, does this amazing Jackie Chan spin, hits the corner of a brick on the walkway, almost goes down again, catches herself, crouches, turns, and lands ON HER FEET in the gravel surrounding a planter. Fan Freaking Tastic! I applauded her. Some dude driving by honked. Her reaction “I just sprained my pride. Fuck off.”

The topics of conversation last night included:

■Nipples

■Cabbage Patch Feet

■Hooker shoes

■Dirty Sanchez

Wanna read the rest? Click the link below:

 http://rockermomrambles.wordpress.com/

Silence

We all have our story. We all know exactly where we were and how we felt today ten years ago. That day still stings me. I didn't lose anyone but I think we all lost a little piece of our souls knowing it could have been us. It could have been me. So it's a private day to me and I don't watch the replays, the news, the commentaries or the interviews. Some may say it's selfish but today I am in Austin having bar b que with my family, catching up with friends and enjoying time with The Girl. We have to keep moving forward. Keep living. Keep appreciating every minute of freedom we have.

I love this Country in a fierce maniac kind of way. This is why , if you want to know, click to this link and read on.

More Than Cowboys & Bar B Que

How to help with the Texas fires...
Donations needed, volunteers, Red Cross amd donation drop off sites.
Scroll to the bottom of this page and do something.

UPDATE 9/5/11 12:44 PM:
The fire in Bastrop has now burned 24,000 acres,  more than 300 homes lost and thousands of displaced people. The fire is 16 miles long and 4 miles wide.
Austin Pets alive has taken in all of the dogs from fire affected shelters.
Austin Humane Society has the cats. See below for info.

UPDATE 9/5/11 3:13 PM:
There is an URGENT NEED for horse transport for evacuation in Bastrop County, TX. Barns that were used to house evacuees are now in the fire's path. Rt 304 still open both ways. Anyone in the area who can help, please call Beth at 512-467-4893 or Rachel at 512-581-2940.

The American Legion in Bastrop is accepting pets and livestock.
http://www.centraltexasnights.com/clubs/americanlegion533.html

The Red Cross is asking all Bastrop Co. evacuees to go to their website and register on the Safe & Well list. Please do this so a firefighter doesn't risk his/her life to find you.
https://safeandwell.communityos.org/cms/index.php

 I have been sitting here trying to write a piece about the epic fail I experienced at the taco stand Saturday. I can't think of a funny thing to say because the state I love is on fire. You can say what you want about Texas and believe all of the stereotypes that are out there about Texans. The truth is, if you're interested to get to know us, we are more than cowboys and bar-b-que. Texans as a people are well mannered, thoughtful, friendly, loyal and outstanding neighbors. We wave at strangers passing us on the road, we stop to help people that are in a broken down car or dealing with a broken down life. We help with each others kids, we show up for neighbors weddings and we carry each other through funerals. When the chips are down, there's no better place to be than a neighbor of a Texan.




Bastrop State Park: 6,000 acres and home to many thousands of unique wildlife.
It is surrounded by more than 3.000 homes, businesses, churches and schools.



Aside from our outstanding people, this state is amazingly beautiful. We have it all: canyons, mountains, deserts, plains, lakes, basins, rivers, the gulf coast, metropolises, ranches, skyscrapers, champion gulf courses and tremendous wildlife parks. We have every industry you can think of and our own militia. If there is something you want to see, do or be a part of- there is no need to leave the state border. Our culture is as diverse as our landscape but equally friendly and loyal. For about 24 hours we have been glued to our t.v.'s because Central Texas is burning down. Watching pastures burn up that will result in starving livestock and dramatic grocery price hikes. Watching rail yards burn and highways buckle that will result in the entire nation slowing from transportation issues because our highways are major trade corridors. A family friend in Bastrop has likely lost the house I sold to him when I was a Realtor, he was the best man at my wedding long ago and remains a true and loyal friend post divorce. Another friend who is a cowgirl to the bone has lost her horses. The horses that carried her to rodeo championships, but more importantly, have carried her with  love and friendship through some truly tragic life events. More than livestock- these horses were her friends. Her support. As I am writing this, I received a picture text from my sister in Austin, showing me their church on fire. The church we have all gone to numerous weddings, funerals, baptisms and most recently The Girl's and my Niece's graduation party.

These 3 photos are of Bastrop the City &  Bastrop State Park yesterday and last night. 3,000 acres have burned to the ground and it is still on fire. A total of 14,000 acres so far are gone. All residents were ordered to leave yesterday, most do not know if they have a home to return to. It's unlikely- as the fire has now spread to neighboring counties.

And it's still burning. The 6,000 acre Bastrop State Park is 50% burned- it's still on fire. Austin, Steiner Ranch, Cedar Park,  Pflugerville, Apache Shores and more towns have fires burning. My funny bone is aching for my friends and fellow Texans right now. It is so bad, that we have called all able firefighters  back to duty from retirement, vacations, days off and anyone willing to pick up a house and fight to save Texas. If you are given a chance to help, please do it. If you are in the Central Texas area, get ready to help clear debris, donate feed for livestock and help rebuild your neighbors house, barn and dreams. It's all hands on deck time and you can bet we will all be there ready with shovels, an ear to hear the heartaches and our hands full of dinner and cold drinks.

More of the fires in Central Texas yesterday - and still burning today.

Evacuation Routes:
http://texasstormchasers.com/2011/09/05/live-blog-september-4-5-2011-wildfires/evac_1745/#comment-269

Wanna Help?

Volunteering

• Call Red Cross to volunteer at 512-928-4271

Pets

• Austin Pets Alive has taken in hundreds of animals from Bastrop and other fire affected areas . Go to their site to donate, volunteer, adopt or foster! http://www.austinpetsalive.org/2011/09/bastrop-evacuations/
• Austin Humane Society has taken in hundreds of animals from Bastrop and other fire affected areas Go to their site to donate, volunteer, adopt foster ! http://www.facebook.com/austinhumanesociety 

Where and how to donate

• Email serve@celebrationchurchtx.com to get involved with providing supplies and relief for the families affected by the wildfires.
• Red Cross is taking only monetary donations at this time. Check their website for partnership for food and clothing donation assistance.
• Facebook page taking donations -- though no cash items.
• Faith Family Services in Hutto is picking up clothing- and food donations for delivery to area pantries and organizations in direct contact with victims. They are also coordinating emergency housing with area homes. For more information, email faithfamilyhomes@yahoo.com or call 210-334-1708.

Drop-off locations for donations

• 3434 Yogi Berra Way in Round Rock by the Dell Diamond. You can also call 512-740-6096
• @ACFellowship is staging for volunteer cleanup. Please bring large trash bags, work gloves, bottled water, nonperishable snacks and toiletries.
• Georgetown helps Bastrop victims Facebook page is offering a house drop-off site for clothing, shoes, toiletries, diapers, towels, etc. They are not taking food items.
• Distribution Center for Victims of Bastrop County fires Facebook page has been set up to take towels, washcloths and toiletry items, which said they need immediately.

Evacuee information and phone hotlines

• Hays County evacuees can call: 512-753-2180
• Travis County evacuees can call: 512-974-6199
• For information on Bastrop fires: 512-332-8856 and 512-332-8814

Closures

• All BISD campuses closed.

Twitter hashtags on the fire

• #txfire
• #txwildfire
• #centraltxfires

Artsy Chicks: Water Cowgirl

My Sister can do anything. Literally.  Break both arms and still run cross country. Done. Learn a new language? Done...many times over. Go ahead and add extreme decorating, photographer, painter, professional barrel racer, horse whisperer, surfer, Mom to 8, devoted wife to one and  add globetrotter to the mix. Oh- and she can cook like a pro. I wanted to feature her today because she is an extremely talented artist and photographer- but also because as women go- she has the most giant pair of balls ever. You wouldn't believe the shit she has survived through- nightmare after nightmare- but she still never fails to see the beauty in people. If she wants it, she makes it happen, there is no waiting around for luck in her life. If you screw with her family- prepare to get the ass kicking of your life. A few years ago she and her husband said.,  "Hey , we're moving to Hawaii". And I was like ok how you gonna do that? One year later they landed in Oahu, she sold everything they had, and everything no one else wanted , and off they went. No jobs but a whole bunch of ambition to go live in paradise. She's resourceful and can make cash appear out of the air and turn it into a business and the sweet life. She's way better than me and I could never walk as tall as she does. She is fearless, epic, brilliant and beautiful. I love you Ugs, more than you knw!



Water Cowgirl
http://www.rainwaterphotographyart.com/
http://www.etsy.com/people/watercowgirl
http://www.hawaiisurfbreak.com/



This is in my office. It's got texture, shine and bling- which makes it irresistable to me. When she put it up on Etsy- a shit ton of people tried to buy it right away- but alas- I won because I have major dirt on her!