I Should Be Packing

Happy Friday, Reader! Unless you're reading this some day other than Friday, then Happy That Day!

I'm heading out for a much-needed and highly-anticipated vacation. Don't try to rob my house, Bad Guys, My Mister is staying home being the Protector and the Cat Kisser while I am away. This is a girl's trip, with my friendie Joanne.   

Joanne used to be a little afraid of me.

She thinks I'm wild.  And she never even knew me in my twenties, when I rode a motorcycle naked through the city streets and fucked in a Taco Bell bathroom because we were just too excited to make it home. Then we had a chalupa, because well, Sex & Taco Bell. Now them, them there were wild times. 

The most I do now is paint my nails "12-Year-Old-School-Girl Glitter Blue" and break out my Saturday Night Fever dance moves. On occasion, Reader, not all the time. Those moves are to special to be overused. 

Today I had the day off from Tiny Town to TCB. And here it sits 9:30 and I'm still not packed. But I did get my hairs did by my other friendie Michele and it's the best looking part of me right now. Except for my glittery blue nails. Those are sah-weet. 

My Mister and I had the following conversation this past Monday night that pertained to my upcoming vacation:

My Mister: "Since you're going to be out of town, I bought myself a little toy."

Me: "Is it a pocket pussy?"

My Mister: "Um. No. No, but close. I bought a Playstation 4 so I can play pinball games."

We sometimes aren't of the same wavelength. Thank goodness. 

Last night I was teaching My Mister how to smooch Kitty Purry while I'm gone, as I'm sure she'll be craving some extra attention because I shower her with smooches and pets all day and night. Because she is an excellent cuddler. 

Holding up Kitty Purry, and demonstrating to My Mister:

"Kiss her here, on her cheeks, like this. And kiss this little white spot on her paw. She likes that. And give her a big smooch on the hairless part of her tummy, she likes that, too. But be sure not to kiss her on her exposed cat nipples when you're kissing her tummy, because that crosses some sort of a line and I can't have you inadvertently kissing her cat nipples. Be careful." 

My Mister: "Purry and I have our own routine. It doesn't involve me kissing her in any of the spots, especially on her naked stomach. She sits on my lap and I pet her. Don't worry about us."

Well, I'm just saying, she's going to be a little starved for affection until I get home with that boring routine.  But better safe & boring I guess, than having his lips accidentally touch her on her nips. 

So I leave you with that for a whole entire week.  You're welcome. 

Green Thumb

Ever since Trixie Bang Bang bought the little cape cod on the water at the end of last summer, she has been excited about dolling up the outside, the way a cute little cape cod with red trim and a red door deserves to be dolled up - with a colorful bouquet of flowers dotting the landscape. 

Let's not forget to mention that Trixie Bang Bang is no green thumb. By any means. But she likes the look of the cute-ed up floral-laden landscape, so she plans. 

Trixie Bang Bang weathered a long, cold, snowy, blustery, frigid - did she mention long? - winter in the hell-frozen-over city by the lake. She had to get her snowblower out quite often, in fact:

She blustered through it, holding tight to the hope of Spring, Glorious Spring.  A few wisps of spring air blew through the city, melting off the layers of cold. 

And then one day her spring delivery arrived on her doorstep, and Trixie Bang Bang spent weekend morning hours planning out the Cute-ing of Chez Bang Bang. ~note dog-earred corner~

She picked her deer-resistant garden for some cute-ing around the front of the house.

She plotted out hills of lavender behind the house, running down to the ravine, and a lilac bush, and some lime hydrangeas, and rows of dwarf asters lining the walkway from the drive to the front stoop.

Oh the plans she made!

She even thought a cute little fountain in the front would attract the birds, providing hours of enjoyment to both herself and the cats. 

And then a douse of Spring hit hard and heavy in the early month of April. 

The sun was shining, drenching the front yard in sunbeams, glorious sunbeams!  The curtains were blowing, the cats were rolling and Trixie Bang Bang had a skip in her step as she made her way up the front walk after a fun-filled day of gallivanting with her friendie Vera. 

When suddenly the skip was outta her step. Because it seems on that fine fine spring day, everything was out and wanting to enjoy a little of that long-lost sunshine.  

Right next to the front stoop. 

After Trixie Bang Bang was done shitting her pants, she decided to just go inside through the garage. She didn't need to be a hero, using her own front door or anything like that. 

Safely ensconced in the confines of the house, Trixie's brave friend Vera peered outside and gave a, "Hey, come and look." Where they both saw the Sneaky Snake taking an early afternoon sunbath on top of the bushes. 

The bush very close to the front stoop. 

(See how close that is to the step?? It's DANGEROUSLY CLOSE!! )

Of course. 

It's more difficult to scare the shit out of Trixie if she can't see you, so get right up next to the door, where she can't miss ya.

The helpful neighbors again reiterated their claims that there's six or eight of 'em - a nice little family - that come out and dot each of the bushes, soaking up a little sun all summer long. 

It was right about that point when Trixie Bang Bang decided the yard looked cute enough, no further digging around in the shrubbery required, plus the deer would probably eat it anyway, so why bother, and the birds don't need a bath, they can go bathe in the creek, so she's actually doing them a favor not enticing them closer with flowers and birdbaths. Because Trixie loves nature. 

From safely inside the house. 

And that wraps up Trixie's adventure in non-gardening.

She'll continue to enter the house through the garage. Front doors are overrated anyway. 

The End. 

The Way It Crumbles

Dear Nabisco,

Now you're just fucking with us. 

You're starting to be that sweet girl whom everyone likes, but then one day she meets someone who doesn't like her and she goes out of her way to win them over, even though she doesn't like them. She starts acting all crazy-nice, smiling that wide fake smile to charm them, trying to get that person to like her, really really like her.  

We like you, Oreo. Animals love you. Stop already. 

Sincerely, 

Trixie Bang Bang. 

What I've Put In My Mouth Lately

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The Best Part of Waking Up

Driving into Tiny Town today, I noticed the message signs over the roadways that announce important information had this message:

MISSING ADULT

ON LION

Reader.  Before I knew it, my eyes were scanning the horizon, looking for this:

It was a fat, full two seconds before my brain registered, "That can't be right."

Obviously. Because how would they know that the adult was still riding the lion, and hadn't been eaten yet.  

So I looked again and realized I may need glasses or more Folger's in my cup, because the sign actually said:

MISSING ADULT
OH LICN - and then the Ohio license plate number was listed after. 

I was disappointed, to say the least. And then I laughed out loud at myself because for a few hot seconds, it wasn't inconceivable to me that an adult could be out riding a lion. 

Because dreams can come true.