Mini things, 10 of them...

10 things everyone should know about the Princess Mini-Me aka the Mini

And I didn't say they were important things, just things you should know.

1 – She doesn’t eat vegetables.  Of any kind.  She claims that she eats corn and potatoes.  She will eat corn on the cob, ONLY, and she never eats all of it.  Also, corn is a starch.  I don’t consider it a vegetable. Potatoes?  HA!  Not even.  This is the only kid in the free world who doesn’t like mashed potatoes. Wait she does eat those instant cheese or garlic flavored mashed potatoes.  Yep, not a  vegetable or a potato. She eats french fries.  And, potatoes are a tuber.  Again, NOT a vegetable.  However, she insists they are.  She can not even be tricked into drinking those ‘V’ Capri suns or V8 Splash or any of that nonsense.  This is the same kid who used to eat green beans for dinner a few short years ago.  I can’t even process veggies and sneak them into things anymore.  She knows.  Whatever.

2 – Her favorite answer to any question about why she did something?  “Because I can”.  This infuriates the SAB to no end.  I laugh (this makes even more furious, ooops).  It’s just the first answer.  She will give you a real answer.  You just have to wait for it.  She’s all about the joke.  Not sure where that shit comes from.  

3-She can broad-jump 9 tiles in the grocery without running and 13 if she gets a running head start.  What?This is good fun.  Don’t go getting all judgey on me.  The grocery sucks.  We have to make our own fun. So, we do.  Ham-hat anyone?  Yes, a ham-hat is when you get a ham or a ½ ham and put it on your head and dance.  Yes, dance.  We also make hair ties and headbands from produce bags.  Yes, we wear them.  It’s awesome. 

4- The Mini desperately wants a dog and is completely terrified of dogs.  It’s Bananaland (See?).  I’m terrified of dogs myself so I get it.  Kind of.  I don’t want a dog though.  In her defense, she does want a little yap-yap dog.  Most of the dogs she’s afraid of are bigger dogs.  The kind that jump and bark really loud. Cause well, they’re scary.  Really.  However, the whole afraidofadog-wantadog thing?  Is weird. 

5-In her 10 short years, the Mini has traveled to Las Vegas, Chicago, Seattle, Jamaica, the Bahamas, Tennessee, South Carolina, Alaska, Italy (Venice, Rome, Florence, Pisa, Assisi & Verona) and all over the state of Florida.  Her greatest memory?  Making a hole in one at the Hillbilly Golf course in Gatlinburg, TN. Seriously.  Well, that and the time I ‘left’ her in Florence.  ‘Left’ her with her Father and Grandmother while I went to buy boots.  What?  It was Florence.  Hello.  Italian leather boots.  

6-The girl is a complete con artist.  Not like your everyday kid con artist.  Like a sneaky grown up con artist.  She could talk a dog off a meat wagon. (don’t laugh, I know you like my ole’ hillbilly line)  I kid you not this child will argue, lie and even make up shit to get you to buy whatever she’s selling.  At the end of the day she’ll come clean.  But, you MUST go through the entire circle of fucktard prior to getting there.  It makes me tired.  However, I kinda like it.  And, it’s funny.  

7-The Mini can cry on demand.  Like really cry.  Full on facey-frowny, tears and the wailing.  It is a cool thing to watch.  The transformation is amazing.  Yes, she lets me watch the fakeness.  And then she forgets that I’ve seen it and tries to use it on me.  She’s 10.  Smart, but 10.  I win every time.  

8-This child is terrified of loud noises.  The vacuum freaks her out totally.  She has to crawl up on the bed or the couch when the SAB or I are vacuuming.  Once it’s on for a few minutes, she’s ok.  She’s getting better. I’ve even gotten her to use the vacuum a few times so she knows it’s not going to eat her.  Or is it?  The hairdryer.  The child will get out of her bed to come and close the bathroom door so she doesn’t have to hear the dreaded hairdryer.  I’m beginning to wonder if she isn’t so much afraid of these noises but that these noises annoy her.  Shit, they annoy me too.  Inventors, where are the silencers for small appliances?  Come on.  If they make silencers for guns why can’t they make one for my hairdryer?  Really.  I have questions.  

9-She is mostly computer & video game illiterate.  She can play video games and get on-line and do some basics but it just isn’t her thing.  She becomes bored easily and gets way too aggravated for video games. (Her patience is a lil thin) Also, searching for stuff on the internet and then choosing it?  Is way too much like work.  School work.  She wants no part.  Her Pou (pet turd – shut up, it IS a pet turd – Google it) is about her most adventurous feat. She has a tablet that she breaks at least a week, a DSi that she plays games on but mostly uses it for the camera/video, and an ipod (she does love the tunes).  However, her ipod hardly has any songs so she just helps herself to mine. Rather than go on the dreaded internet and CHOOSE HER OWN MUSIC, she just uses mine.  Pfffffttt.  Best part of her electronic issue?  The kid can run really fast, jump far (see #3 above), ride her bike backward, swim like a fish (in a pool, not WITH the fish), dance all over the house like she’s in a musical and watch the hell outta some ‘My Little Pony’, ‘Joseph’, ‘Mulan’ and ‘The Littlest Pet Shop’.  She likes to play Barbies and ponies and pretend games and draw.  She draws pictures everywhere. And on everything.  *proud Momma beams* 

Now, if I could only get her to read a book.  *sigh*

10-The Mini loves hats.  All kinds of hats.  Baseball caps, derby hats, fedoras, big hats, little hats and obviously…ham-hats.  With the hats?  She likes glasses.  You know these clear glass glasses they have all over the place now?  Those.  Every time she gets a few extra dollars her butt is off to the store to buy glasses & hats.  And she wears them with her weirdo outfits.  You know, the suspenders and mismatched socks? Yep, that’s my kid.  She rocks.  Just like her Momma.  Really.  I know stuff. 

The Mini.  She made this herself on PicMonkey.  She really does rock!

Stuff that pisses me off, even more...the 2nd in a series of many

Yep...there are more things.  If you've read part 1 of the things that piss me off? You will fer sure know that this shit is serious.  Okay, so not really.  However, this stuff still pisses me off.  So there.


Please mind your own damn business.  If I didn't tell you my business?  It's because I didn't fucking want you to know. Or, I totally forgot and you'll find out eventually.  My business is not your business.  If you overhear my business?  Do what you like with it EXCEPT ask me questions about it.  You overheard it because you're a nosy douche.  So, keep it to yourself, tell the neighbors, call the papers, post it on Facebook, tweet it, whatever...just don't ask me about it.  If you forget this and ask me about it?  Don't get all prissy when I tell you to go fuck yourself.  Just don't.

Manners.  Get some.  Everyone.  I'm a bitch.  Whatever.  I still know how to say excuse me or hold a door.

                                                 

There has not been a single instance where I've gone to the grocery with the Mini where I didn't have to explain this to her :

 ADULTS ARE FUCKING RUDE.

They bump into her, ram their carts into her, and will stand behind her and huff and puff while she chooses her ice cream.  She does take forever to choose the damn ice cream flavor. She's 10.  HELLO.  However, if one time Mr. or Mrs. Huffypants would just say "excuse me", the Mini would move right outta their way. And, yes, I announce how rude the person is.  It's 2 words.  Get off of your damn cell phone and use your words.  Didn't we learn that shit when we were like 3?  These are the same people who say "kids these days are so disrespectful" and other lame & sometimes true shit like that.  Still.  It pisses me off.  Huge.

Keep your fucking animals away from me.  I don't like them.  Dogs scare me. Cats are okay but they ick me sometimes.  If I think your pet is cute?  I'll walk right over and tell you and do that whole ooohhhh and ahhhhh thing.  I don't care if you've known me my whole life or your a stranger.  I do NOT want your pet's slobber, hair, fleas, food remnants and whatnot, ON ME.  I'm not an animal hater but you people with all these damn animals need to realize that not everyone shares your love for the four legged beings.  Also, if your dog jumps on people, and you should know this cause it's supposed be like well, YOUR dog...don't leave the damn thing out when you invite people to your house.  See manners.  And seriously, leave your pets at home when you're at parades, bars, restaurants, theme parks, groceries stores, the mall, etc.  They have places just for pets.  Dog parks, regular parks, the woods.  Whatever.  Take them there.  Your pet does not have to accompany you on your people outings.  Really.  I know stuff.

                                      

No, I don't want to hold your baby.  Ever. That's why it's YOUR baby.  I love babies.  They rock.  They're cute and they coo and they're mostly quiet (that's the best part) and they wear really cute baby clothes and have tiny feet (I dig tiny feet) and stuff but I DON'T WANT TO HOLD YOUR BABY.  This freaks me out. I'm terrified I'm going to the be the one to break your child.  Stuff happens.  It's me.  I totally know that once I have your bundle of joy in my arms, a giant spider will decide that it's time to crawl on my foot and your baby will soaring through air while I scream bloody murder and run so fast fire shoots out of my shoes like in the cartoons.  Yes, I had a baby.  But, it was MY baby.  If I broke her, it was my fault and I had no one to blame but myself. Now, if you're lucky enough to be my close friend, a whole different baby scenario could ensue.  Because you're my friend.  The baby will still soar through the air when the spider lands on my foot, but I will yell "CATCH IT" as I run.  I'm not sure if the fire will still shoot from my shoes.  I'll have to test that.  Also, almost every damn time somebody holds a baby that isn't theirs that whole crying thing starts. Babies hate that shit.  They told me.  The babies.

Do NOT show up to my humble abode unannounced.  This is the rudest of all rude.  Mostly on my part. Because if you do show up without advance notice, I will be more rude than you've probably ever experienced.  Listen, I work all day and then I run errands, do the Mini thing, cook, clean, etc...  When I get to the homestead, I'm bra-less and most times, pant-less.  This is not something you need to witness.  Also, all my crazy OCD & Etiquette stuff starts and I freak because I have nothing prepared for you. Crumpets, tea what-the-fuck-ever.  If I don't know to expect you, I'll have nothing ready.  And that?  Is all bad.  Also, some of my bric a brac and whatnot could be out of place.  I cannot have another human being see this.  I just can't.  Yes, I realize this is insane.  Whatever.  Show up at my house unannounced and see what you get. Fat lotta nothin and one pissed off Princess.  However, if you do show up?  Bring vodka, the caramel kind. And a snack or two.  And a bra and some pants - the sweat kind. At least you'll get to see me for a minute before I slam the door in your face.  What?  I want the stuff.  Seriously though, the joke will be on you.  

Oh and yeah, I totally internet lifted and face-lifted the pics.  The original images can be found at the following:

www.sodahead.com
www.petswelcome.com
www.theparksimagegroup.com -
www.askipedia.com 

Epic Award

The Epically Awesome Award of Epic Awesomeness!

Well, I'm totally AWESOMED OUT.

I was nominated for

The Epically Awesome Award of Epic Awesomeness!

I was nominated by Surrounded by Shirt Suckers AND It's Why You Like Me who are both totally cool.  For real.  I know stuff. 

Here’s the deats on the award…
1. Display award logo
2. Link back to the person who nominated you.
3. Share 10 things about yourself
4. Nominate 10 other bloggers.

• I have a weird pork thing.  About eating it, I mean.  I'm really picky and pork stuff freaks me out.  Do not confuse this with bacon.  Bacon is different.  Really.
• I love flip flops.  They are the best.  I have like 9 pair.  I always wear the same pair.  Always.
• 2 of my most goodest friends are fellow bloggers.
• My (our, me and the SAB) dream is to run a food truck or a small restaurant.
• I love caramel vodka. (you'd have to be totally ignoring my FB page not to know this, however, it's worth repeating.  really)
• I work full-time.  In an office.
• The SAB does all of the driving.  All of it.  He's been my passenger ONCE for 1.5blocks.  Ever.  In over two and half years.  I hate to drive and he's all manly & stuff.
• "Whatever" is the solution to most of my daily issues.
• Clicking on links ticks me off.  I do it.  I hate it.
• I got pregnant with my only child, 30 days after stopping "the pill"  I was 32.

My 10 fine folks I'm donning with 

The Epically Awesome Award of Epic Awesomeness!

Oh, and I don't care if they already have one and stuff.  I like 'em. So go give em' some smoochydoodles. 

AMotherLife

Comfytownchronicles

wildwonderfulgingerssnaps

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la vida de blondiechell

momrantsandcomfypants

How Not to Kill Your Parents

Mommy Has Issues

Chill Thoughts

Cut My Milk

There's no fucking pizza here...

So, most of you know I live in Florida and I LOVE IT.  And, a bunch of you know that I’m from the Chicago area and I moved to Florida on my 16th birthday.  None of you know the events that turned the Ilovethecitygirl into the Ilovethebeachgirl.  It was long.  It was ugly.  And, there was no fucking pizza.

October 1985.  We have a lovely visit to Port Orange, FL cause’ Jimbo's (the amazing not so stepdad) best friend and his family moved there.  I had been to Florida when I was much younger.  Even visited the same area (weird, no?).  It was okay.  It was vacation. I wasn't in school, so...who cared where we were.  Back to October 1985.  I remember it well because my 15 year old ass went trick or treating.  Whatever.  It was candy.  And, it was FREE.  So, we have a great vacation with the friends and all is well.  We head home and my awesome parents inform me that we are going to move to…Florida.  Whaaaaaaaaa???  I’m 15 years old, lived in the same house my whole life, know the same people my whole life, you KNOW.  It will take a bit, don’t worry they said.  We have to sell the house, get things in order, settle financial stuff they said.  Ummmm, okay.  I wait.  I go about my normal routine thinking they will forget about this whole moving thing.

Fast forward…June 9, 1986. 8 months after our vacation, we were leaving to move to Florida.  Our house sold in some crazy number of days like 3 or something.  Of course it did.  My best friend since I was 7 years old came with us.  Like really with us.  Like, she packed everything she owned, her mother gave her permission, my parents said okay and we were moving to Florida, TOGETHER.  I honestly don’t know what I would have done without her.  We were both still totally bummed about this move thing.  Totally bummed.  Isn’t it cool that I had such a good friend?  She rocked.  She lasted 2 months.  Such is life.

I’m totally gonna skip all the driving from Illinois to Florida in 2 separate vehicles, with a cat, a 6 year old (baby sister), my parents and us.  It sucked.  I will throw this tidbit of info in cause you all love the Drunken Queen.  On the way out of town we stopped for lunch.  At an 84Lumber.  They were giving away free hotdogs as a promotion.  The Drunken Queen?  Frugal.  This Princess? *ashamed* I ate a fucking hot dog though.  I sure did.  Oh, and our cat?  Was never the same.

We arrived in beautiful sunny Florida, found a place to rent and began the search for a house to buy. But first, the parental unit decided we were going spend several weeks traveling around the state.  Great.  Uproot me, rent and then travel so we will fer sure get to know nobody before school starts.  This traveling involved a lot of searching for what Chicago is famous for.  Know what that is?  PIZZA.  Know what Florida didn’t have?  Pizza.  It’s true. No pizza (that was edible), no good beef (have you seen the skinny ass cows in Florida?), no Squirt (It’s a drink.  Google it), no delis, no bakeries, no giardiniera for my Italian beef, no Vienna beef hot dogs, no White Castle, no everything I loved…  I could go on, but you get the idea.  For years, we had pizza shipped from our hometown.  5 pizzas at a time, par-cooked.  (We still do this for special occasions) Yep.  A good portion of our grocery items were shipped via visiting relatives.  Looking back?  We were insane. Or maybe just not good at change.

This here is a Chicago Pizza.  The best kind ever.  Pizza is to be cut in squares.  And have sausage.  Yes, sausage.  Real sausage.  With spices and fennel.  I didn't try pepperoni until I was 12 or 13 years old.  Because?  Sausage.  Or, if you're from Chicago? SASSAGE.

The food. We found no pizza, beef, or any of that stuff...FOR. YEARS.  You will be happy to know that most of our favorite food items are currently sold in Florida or can be purchased online.  I make my own Italian beef, a bunch of places carry Vienna beef hot dogs, Squirt is everywhere...you get the idea.  The pizza is still iffy but I've found alternatives (lowered my standards).  It took many years but we had finally found all of our Chicagofood needs.  Yes, it's important.  I (we) like to eat.  K? K>

The sun.  It's bad. (can be bad)  I've had 3rd degree burns on my entire body.  TWICE.  I keep telling you I'm not that bright.  In all honesty, the burns were mostly due to dehydration.  Too much beer, too much sun, not enough water. I used to hate the beach.  The parental unit made me go.  They loved it.  Dicks.  I hated sand in my hooha.  Yes, sand will get in your hooha when you're at the beach.  There is no way around it.  Seriously.  Even if you NEVER sit in the sand.  It's magic sand.  Not only is it in your hooha, it's in your car, on your feet, trapped in your bathing suit, in your hair, everywhere you have a crevice.  Pretty much.  Embrace it.  It's sand.

I was into my 19th year of living in Florida and married to my 2nd husband when one day, I realized...I like it here.  I live here.  I like it here.  I love the weather.  I love my house.  I'm happy here. It was one of those eye opening, spiritual, cool, uplifting moments.  It was good.  I still refer to my hometown Chicago as "home" but it's mostly of habit.  I learned to love the beach.  It is my very favorite place, ever. The sound of the ocean is soothing and awesome.  The sharks aren't that cool but I don't go in the water so I'm good.

I meet people almost every day that are new to Florida.  Most of them?  Not happy.  The wedidn'tdoitthiswaybackhome thing kicks in.  Just like me.  I smile as I remember my own experience.  I proceed to tell them how much I love it here.  How the weather is beautiful, and the only thing I would change is possibly move FARTHER South cause I get cold when the temp drops below 80 degrees. (This is real, I wear sweaters everywhere) They complain about the low paying jobs and lack of jobs.  Just wait til you're outside in December.  In shorts.  Without the snowsuit and the shovel.  You'll be glad for your low paying jobs.  Also, no state taxes here.  That's a huge chunka cash.  Yes, there are negatives...hurricanes, tornadoes, humidity, bugs as big as your hand.  You get used to it.  And when new residents ask how long it took before I got "used" to it here.  19 years is my reply.  19 years.

PS -  That whole yourbloodthins thing?  Is a farce.  It's absolutely not true.

How does South Florida's warm climate affect your health?

January 21, 2011|By Ken Kaye, Sun Sentinel

Here's a cold, hard fact: No matter how long you live in South Florida, your blood will not thin out and make you sensitive to chilly weather.

See?  I promise.  I know stuff.

PS- Da' Bears :)

*This is a link to my favorite pizza place back home.  They ship.  They Rock.  Ed & Joes in Tinley Park. 

My very first guest post for "Raising Wild Things"

This is a guest post I did a few weeks back for my friend over at Raising Wild Things.  She's amazing.  You should go visit.  Anyway, here it is...


                                           

Dating in and of itself is an awkward, and somewhat bizarre activity.  You meet someone at a bar, online, at the grocery, whatever and...you make a "date".  A date is defined by the free online dictionary as :

a. An engagement to go out socially with another person, often out of romantic interest.

b. One's companion on such an outing.

My definition of date?  An awkward outing with someone you barely know.

Getting back into the dating scene after 17 years of marriage (2 husbands) is overwhelming and completely humbling.  I mean really, it's hard enough to date when you're 22, single and hot.  38, overweight, divorced twice and a kid?  Absurd.

Here's just a few rules I came up with for the over 40, with kids, newly single woman...

Sleep with whomever you want, just don't let your kids know. Don't get all freaked out.  You're single now.  Every date does not have to be "the one".  Sometimes, a woman just wants a lil somethin' somethin'.  We have needs.  Use protection, be smart and have some fun. Do NOT, however, become the chick people are talkin' about in the bathroom at the bar.  This?  Is all bad. It sucks when you hit the next PTA meeting and Barbie and Babs are over in the corner acting you're the sleazy chick.

"Practice" date.  I did this.  A lot.  I met a buncha nice people on websites.  Yes, the online dating thing can be totally creepy but you can weed through the creepers fairly quickly if you're smart.  (I could write for hours on the whole online dating dealio, that will be a whole other post)  I knew these men wouldn't be "that guy" but some were nice and guess what? I wasn't sitting home on Friday & Saturday nights.  The guys who sucked taught me all about what I DIDN'T want so that was awesome too.  I was meeting people and learning how to communicate with opposite sex without having sex.  I don't regret any of these dates cause I was learning. Learning is key.  This shit is tough.  So a few wasted hours here and there? Totally worth it.

Don't eat sushi on the first date.  It's just weird.  Trust me, I experienced it.  It's that whole "share" the sushi thing and all that.  Plus, that whole raw fish & chopsticks thing can really be awkward.  Really.  

Make sure you ALWAYS answer your phone when your kid calls.  Even if you're just getting ready to get hot & heavy.  This avoids embarrassing early drop offs.  It happened to me.  Trust me, I know.  You don't want to have to explain who "so&so" is when your kid gets unexpectedly dropped off two hours early.  All because you didn't answer the phone.  ALWAYS answer the phone.  Trust me.  I know stuff.

Don't shit where you eat.  Sorry to be so blunt about this one, but do NOT engage in dating with a co-worker, a friend of friend who see on a regular basis, the waiter at your favorite restaurant or the local cop who directs traffic at your kid's school.  All of these are a no-no.  It seems great at the time but when you can't go back to your favorite restaurant cause' the waiter you went out with had Mommy issues?  It blows.  It's also all bad when your kid asks "why can't we go to Auntie so&so's house anymore"?  You really can't answer with "Well, honey, I banged her brother and shit is awkward".  So, just don't. 

Make time to date.  I know this is tough.  It was easier for me cause' my kid went to her Dad's house every other weekend.  I could plan ahead.  Lots of you don't have this option.  But, seriously, if you can find a friend, family member, co-worker to watch your precious punkins for at least an hour here and there, you get out of the house.  You get to meet people.  It's coffee.  Or lunch.  It doesn't have to be a production.  Just do it. It makes you feel better.  I'll be real, sometimes it makes you feel like a giant turd, but for the most part, it is way good for the self-esteem.  I know stuff. 

Never look your best on the first "meet".  Seriously.  I'm not saying to go out with your hair undone, cut-offs and dirty flip-flops or anything. You know?  Don't dress like you're going to be on the People of WalMart website.  I'm just saying, look good.  Not great.  Cause' let us be honest here for a minute.  We don't look all good & cute & stuff MOST of the time.  So look good.  Not great.  Also, if the guy is some kinda yuck?  You haven't wasted your time get all purtied up.  And, if he isn't some kinda yuck?  You have the chance to knock him on his ass with all your hotness on a 2nd date.  Or 3rd.  See?  I know stuff.  Really.

 Be comfortable on your dates.  There is no need to break out the leopard print spandex and create a hole in the ozone with your hairspray.  Especially at our age.  Don't try to be someone you aren't.  (unless of course you're go for the whole role-playing thing)  Do not wear your brand-new linen pant suit.  Scratching your nether region and wrinkly pants?  Huge turnoff.  I've heard.  Dressing like your 21 again?  Doesn't help with dating.  It will get you many offers that you probably aren't interested in if ya' know what I mean? Not to mention, if your kids happen to see you looking like a damn fool?  Remember that naked bathtub picture you snapped when they were 5?  You'll never be able to use it.  Your kids?  Will have the upper hand.  And that just can't happen.  So, don't.  Look like an old (or young) ho. 

                                                                    No.  Just.  No.

Your kids are #1 in the dating scenario.  If your kids have issue with you dating?  Hide it from them.  Who said parenting was easy.  In the long run, happy Mommy = happy kids. That being said, if your kiddos don't approve of who your dating when & if they finally meet them?  Run.  Your kids are smarter than you think

Dating is a risk.  Do it Anyway. 

Princessbananaland.com

Stuff that pisses me off. #1

A lot of things piss me off.  I mean, a lot.  I'm pretty finicky about stuff and I like shit my way.  The right way. The right way is good, right?  I know stuff.  Anyhow, these things?  The ones I'm gonna list?  Make my head spin so fast, it could fly right off my body.  Really.


Karaoke.

Karaoke pisses me off.  I know you've heard me say I hate karaoke a bagillion times.  But seriously, it pisses me off.  No, there is no rational reason.  However, I do have reasons.  One time I had to go to a dance competition in some hotel for my sister and it was like 14 hours long, soooo... I did what any good sister does and hit the hotel bar.  Guess what day/night it was?  Can you guess?  Yes, karaoke.  I listened to karaoke for like 6 solid hours.  My ears bled and I was temporarily blinded.  Fer real.  Next, I used to sing karaoke.  Really.  I did.  I was young, like 22.  Did it with a friend.  Monday nights.  I can only look back and wonder...whatinthefuckwasIthinking?  I can't sing.  I can fake it real good.  But oh how those people in that tiny bar must have suffered.  *shudder*  Now, all these years later?  I just can't stand it.  I get an instant headache.  And, comethefuckon...I know they have more than 6 songs on that list. I've seen the list.  It's huge. Also, most of the people who sing karaoke, sing that music.  That music I hate.  That country music. Yep, that kind.  How many versions of "Strawberry Wine" must I hear?

Watermildewblech. <---------- It's not just an angry German word

I absolutely cannot stand water.  Not the drinking kind or the swimming-in kind.  The droplets that are all over your stainless steel everything.  The moist (nasty word) towels that hang after you shower.  The half drenched bath mat. Because, oh you're supposed to move that off of the tub before you shower?  The drops of water that are on every damn mirror in the entire house.  I 'get' some water on the bathroom mirror. Makes sense.  Whatever.  But why is there water on the mirror in the hallway?  Whatthefuck exactly is going on here?  Water makes mildew.  M i l d e w.  It even sounds awful.  I am a complete bleachaholic.  I can't get over it.  I don't want to get over it.  Mildew is blechy.  And stinky.  And green.  And I live in Florida, which a virtually a mildew retention peninsula. So, a bleachaholic, Windex toting bitch is what I'll be.



The Big "H".

Hot damn, I don't know if I can keep your attention for as long as my list of eeks is with the History Channel. I  cannot stand how everything is dark.  Everything.  Was all history fucking depressing or is that just the stuff you want us to know about?  It's the brown channel.  Right?  In Trivial Pursuit, the history pie is brown. Whyohwhy is history so brown?  Some really happy shit happened way back when.  So, History Channel, add pink & yellow and a butterfly here and there, will ya?  I could also do without the not-so-subtle RightwingChristianRepublican message thrown in.  I mean, whatever your whole belief deal is, I'm all good with that.  Just don't slant my history, k? And, last...the History Channel scares me a lil bit.  More like that creepy kinda scare.  When I wake up in the middle of the night and hear that depressing music they play during every show?  The bejeezus is scared right outta me.  I don't like creepy stuff.  It creeps me.

People.

I hate people.  There is no other way to describe my feelings.  People tend to take this wrong way. I don't hate individual people. As a whole, I hate people.  Get it?  People wear me out.  I mean every damn thing I do, is for people.  If weren't people, I wouldn't have to do anything.  That would be great.  Damn people.

And then, there are mean people.  They suck.  I hate them.  The people who are just mean to be mean.  I hate them a lot.  The people who tell lies about you at work so they look better.  Or, the family member who continually brags just to make you feel like shit.  Those mean people.

Wishy-washy people.  They make me gag.  Seriously?  Make up your mind.  Pick who you are and be that. It really is that simple.  The people who don't like it, aren't the people you need. Do whatyougottado.

Ibelieveeverything people.  Annoying. These people are so dumb.  Ghosts, aliens, the media, the internet, televangalists, motivational speakers, telemarketers, the lady buying tampons AND condoms at the drugstore, the local bartender, the neighbor who never mows their grass.  If they heard it from someone, anyone.  It must be true.  And, they are some damn kinda hurry to tell every person they met all this bullshit they believe.  These people wrinkle my twat.   I could go on here forever, but I won't.  I'm sure you all can conjure some people you hate.  It's easy.  Promise.  I know stuff.

So, yeah, these are a few my least favorite things...  More to come.  - PP

Two days with Opey

You probably don't know this, but Oprah & myself?  We're tight.  Really.  If you don't already know, I'm from Westhaven aka Tinley Park aka Orland Park aka Orland Hills.  I'm from all of those.  It's really the same place.  It's about 30 miles from Downtown Chicago.  Like, Water Tower Place, the El, The Sears Tower (I don't know what it's called now), the Merchandise Mart, Lakeshore Drive, Lake Michigan, Navy Pier, the John Hancock building, Hyde Park, Lincoln Zoo, the Field History Museum, the Museum of Science & Industry and for many, many years...THE OPRAH WINFREY SHOW.  That Downtown Chicago.  Got it?  K.  I'll be honest, I didn't partake in the Oprah phenomenon for the last 15 years or so but back then?  In Chicago?  Oprah was...THE SHIT. That, my friends, is no damn lie.

I moved to Florida on my 16th birthday, June 9, 1986.  Awesome gift, no?  No.  (whole other blog post).  Anyhow, December of 1987 I flew home to visit my most bestest friend, my family & other friends.  I got to do a whole buncha cool stuff.  We visited this kickass place, Ed Debevic's, which was a way cool eatery.  Still is, I'm sure.  EDDEBEVICS.COM is the website.  Check it out.  It was goodtimes.  I got to go to my old High School for a whole day as a visitor.  This meant I got to hang with my friends and get them in trouble & stuff (cause they were supposed to be doing ummm...schoolwork) and I got to do nothing.  AWESOME. We rode the train downtown to shop.  Or rather, look & drool. Gucci, Louis Vutton, Prada, - THOSE STORES. My friend's mom even bought us all tickets to the Nutracker Suite.  Fancy Schmancy for three teens.  We spent the whole time in the lobby trying to pick up dudes.  We were 17, what?  Also - We had tickets to The Oprah Winfrey Show.

Window shopping... remember this pic.  It will be handy.

When she looked like this and her logo was this thingy - remember that shit?  Do ya? 

Anyhow, off to see Opey!  Despite my love for her?  She still had to be given a horrible nickname, cause' I'm me and that's what I do.  We took the train from the burbs & then walked our asses over the studio.  It was all crazy crowded & shit.  Even then, it was a madhouse.  So, we get with the producers (they run all the shit, whatever) and they haul us into a big hallway to...WAIT.  Yay, I love waiting.  Hangin' around with a few hundred strangers all dying to see MY Opey.  Now all during this hangout & wait stuff, we have no idea who will be on the show or what the show is about. This was confidential info and they wouldn't tell us until we were in the studio. Live audience reaction and all that shit...Pfffffttt.  We could have possibly been kinda annoying to the producers over that one.  Worked to our benefit cause they liked it.  Liked us.  We were put in the second row - CENTER.  And, the guests were?  Gene Siskel & Roger Ebert.  The movie critic guys.  (RIP)  Oh boy!  Front row center and the guest is someone we've actually heard of.  Rock on, bitches.

Of course, we had no idea what the hell Siskel & Ebert were yammering on about.  WE WERE 17.  We were busy people watching, staring at Oprah, watching the producers, talking, giggling and acting well...17. We made it through the show with none of party fainting, farting or acting otherwise frightening on the boob-tube.  NO, we didn't get to ask any questions.  YES, you could see our dumbasses when the show aired. *famous* 

Before we got up, one of the producers approached us and asked if we would like to stay for the next tape? Whaaaaaa?  You have to ask?  Hell.  Yes.  They moved us to different seats cause we were too recognizable (I'm totally sure she meant "hot") and we stayed for one of those IhatemyfamilyandIwanttomakeamends shows.  It was awful, but we were on Oprah.  TWICE.  IN ONE DAY.  Well, not really cause that show?  The second one?  Never aired.  What. Ever.  It's still twice <insert huge sticky outy tongue here>, so there. 

So, we are gettin' ready to hit the pavement and the producer, the one who asked us to stay?  Calls us over. I'm trying to quickly replay the events of the day in my head because I'm positive at this point that we are going to be arrested.  Hey?  Stuff happens.  Anyway, she tells us that the following day the guest is this guy...

Holyfuckingshitballsonfire.  Did I mention we were 17?  And Tom Cruise was still all cool & hot and NOT crazy. She then tells us that she thinks we (us, like me & my friends) are cool & SHE GAVE US TICKETS.  Are you listening?  Tickets to see TOM CRUISE. OMG. This was 1987.  Just 4 short years after Risky Business.  This was serious stuff. And?  We were gonna be on Oprah...AGAIN. 

Fast-forward to the next day...We arrive all sassy with our hair jacked up high.  Remember the picture from above?  Higher.  Yes.  Miss fancy pants producer chick finds us right away and takes us in to sit.  IN THE FRONT ROW.  I shit you not.  While trying not to trip ourselves, we take our seats and wait.  After a few minutes, Miss producer comes over and says we have to move.  MOVE? WTF?  She says it's okay, we are just going to switch you with OPRAH'S FAMILY who are in the 2nd row.  (they wanted to  see Tom Cruise too)  Know why we had to move?  Our hair.  IT WAS TOO BIG.  I wouldn't lie. (about this)  Our effing hair was too big for the front row.  Is that not the most awesomest thing you've ever heard? You know it is.  That was the shit.  We had the biggest hair, EVER.  For those of you who don't understand the 1980's big hair?  Get the hell off my blog, cause you are way too young to get me.   

Know what was even better?  Opey took us all (the entire audience) to the movies.  To see the premiere of fucking RAIN MAIN. (in a private theater)

The movie was fantabulous but you all know this.  After the movie, we went back to the studio for the interview portion of this day.  From our 2nd row seats we saw everything we needed to see.  Totally amazing.  We even got to stand in line and shake ole Tommy's hand after the show.  (Opey shook our hands after every show and by the 3rd time, she even remembered me - gaaaaaaaa)  NO, we still didn't get to ask a question and YES, you could see our big-haired selves all over the tv.  (the Drunken Queen probably still has the video) *famous again* 

So, now you all know how Opey & I are like peas and carrots.  Or just peas.  Whatever.  You do know that I was just meant to famous, right?  Meant. To. Be.  Don't deny it.  You know...