'Tis the Season

For...

YELLOW SNOW!

Grossssssss......

'Nuff said.

The Porch Pig

In more than one blog entry over the past year, I have poked fun of statuary depicting animals as people.

Now...I am a proud owner of such an object d'art, thanks to my dear friends, Steve and Jarvis.

They trash picked this little gem for me. I am so touched.

I know own a pig wearing chef's clothes. And he's on my front porch for the world to enjoy.

Can it get any better?

Guess Who Came to Christmas Dinner..

This, er, um, attractive lady.

My friend and neighbor Lisa just sent me this pic. Apparently her friend's husband collects these "people" and decorates with them on a seasonal basis.

This particular woman sits at their dining room table during the holidays. Others stand sentinel in other rooms of the house.

And, apparently, come summer, another "old lady" and her bikini-clad friend catch rays by the couple's pool.

I can see another blog in the works in about six months. Can't you?

Restaurant Love

Call me a curmudegeon or an anti-romantic soul or what you may, but I hate watching people intimately caress and fondle one another in public. Especially when I'm trying to eat.

This couple was all over each other last night at dinner. Or rather she was all over him. She was rubbing his head. Toying with his ear. Caressing his shoulder. Sliding her hand up and down his back. Stroking his cheek. Giving him little kisses. She would take a bite of food and get right back to it.

They might have done better with a private room and room service than a Saturday night out with friends, whom, I might add, weren't the rampant PDA sort.

I wonder what they thought about the whole over-the-top display?

For the Hopeless Slackass...

For the fisherman, boaters and swimmers who can't manage to wade over to the boat or to shore to enjoy a tall cold one.

The BIG BOBBER.

Cheesy name. Cheesy design. And...IT FLOATS, delivering the promise that your Bud Lights won't sink while you're hoping to make that big catch.

For some reason, I find all of this hilarious.

Although I do know a few people who probably wish they had one.

Sham Wow! Sham Now!

Ok...for months I've watched that weird, Bill The Cat-like guy pushing those magic Sham Wow cloths on TV and have wondered who would buy them.

Now I know. Mary. My best friend since the 8th grade.

Today, while we were perusing Bed Bath & Beyond, we started mocking the Sham Wow guy. And then, before I knew it, she tossed a box in her cart.

I figured I should memorialize the special moment.

I ain't never seen no one buy themselfs a Sham Wow before...

Oh and can anyone explain why this guy always has on his wireless mic? Even on the box?

Nap Time

Oh to be young and carefree again...so carefree that I wouldn't care if I caught up on a few missing Zzzzzs in public. Say, in the orthopedic surgeon's waiting room?

And when I say Zzzzzs, I'm not joking. This kid could probably win a pro snoring competition. Seriously.

In retrospect, I wish I had used the camcorder setting on the phone so ya'll could enjoy the full experience of the moment...with the appropriate soundtrack.

It would have added a new dimension to this post...and this humble blog.

Hmmm...not a bad idea for future consideration. Not bad at all...

Taking a RISK...and Failing. Miserably.

I never have played RISK before...never. Not once.

Neither had Evan until he got the game for Christmas.

You would think that would put the two of us on a level playing field against Scott, as seasoned RISK veteran.

Nope.

Look at my paltry presence in New Guinea and Australia. And look at Evan's juggernaut. Yes, the inevitable happened.

It also happened to my weak, but definite, stronghold in North America courtesy of Scott.

I was out of the game in less than 30 minutes.

I think I will stick to Scrabble from now on.

Slippery When Wet...

Other than a mid-1980s dalliance with the "Sweet Dreams" teen series of romance novels, I have never been a fan of the genre, neither the "historical"bodice rippers nor the more hip, modern versions that feature lascivious hunks with vastly unbuttoned shirts and oiled, ripped chests on the front covers, tempting lovelorn women to pick them up and live out their wildest fantasies. Yeah. Right.

I will confess, however, that I am perpetually intrigued with said covers and the titles. The artwork absolutely slays me, and it amazes me how similar the titles (and the plots outlined on the back cover) are to one another.

I mean how many contemporary romance novels out there are about sweet young things falling hard for a race car driver? Almost every other one I pick up (the others are about firefighters or handsome young doctors.)

How many women actually meet a hot race car driver and fall for him? Oh wait, I should ask one of my distant cousins. She dumped her husband in purusit of a married driver. Seriously. You can't make this stuff up. At least not in my family.

Guess What This Is!

Everyone's favorite game --- guess what the dubious-looking item I am holding is and how it is used!

Women love it. It's supposed to be the best of its kind for a real-world budget. Highly recommended in fashion and beauty publications.

Any suggestions? Any at all?

Give up?

It's a makeup application sponge from Target's Sonia Kashuk line.

What on earth did YOU think it was?!?!?!

The Writing's on the Wall

I wandered into a ladies' room stall at the Crocker Park Regal Cinema this evening and immediately noticed something unusual.

No, all you gross people out there, it wasn't a full, unflushed bowl. Shame on you for even thinking that!

It was this slip of paper -- 8.5" wide, 4 or 5" high. Pasted to the stall divider in the small space between the back end of the toilet paper holder and the wall.

It boasted a man's face and handwritten scrawl. I can't remember the prose exactly, and my crappy camera phone (and hasty shot) as there was a line of angry women needing to pee outside the door didn't do justice to this, but it said something to the effect of this:

"I can wine and dine you but I am not looking for a commitment."

Not Looking and Commitment were heavily underlined.

It then gives this guy's name, which I'll leave out for some semblance of privacy. His age range (45-60) and then little tear off strips with his phone number. (I didn't take one....no one else had either...at least not in the stall I chose).

I have, since then...however, pondered who might have posted this? An ex wife? A jilted lover? An enraged teenage daughter?

Who wants revenge with this man? And I wonder how many calls he will get from women who want to be wined and dined without commitment as I gleefully play the scenarios over and over in my head. Hee hee.