Things That Found Their Way Into My Mouth Lately. And Politics.

Time flies when you're having fun, which is why ten days of vacation flew by in a blink. Here I sit, back at the kitchen table at Chez Bang Bang, unpacked, laundered, cats smooched and petted, house re-dirtied. When we got home the house was quite clean as my brother cat-sat and kept the place tidy. Well, he may have lived quite slovenly while we were gone until the very last day for all I know, but it was neat as a pin and smelled good when we got in. Today, the normal dishevel exists in some spots. I don't know how, because in my mind I keep things nice. Reality seems to be different. 

It confirms what I've long known, in that I need a wife. Because my brother? Also made a crockpot of some sort of chicken and pineapple dish for dinner for tonight, before he left for work. Which I'm eating now, and my mouth is happy about it.  I need a wife to make this a daily event for me. 

Anyway, that leads us right into where we can go next, which is a What I've Put In My Mouth Lately recap. 

First of all, I've found the key to my diet success. It's going to involve my moving to one of the A-B-C Islands, which is where I just came from.  Aruba, Curacao, Bonaire. Any of these will do. For my health, Reader, so really, this move should be covered by my insurance. Maybe if I had ObamaCare it would be, as one of my ex-friends** seems to think all good things go to Welfare recipients on ObamaCare, at her personal expense.

The menu on these Dutch islands has a lot of interesting food choices, which we had to try as we always like to try the local flavors on vacation. 

On our first stop in Bonaire we had lunch. The choice was between bitterballen or frikandellen, although I was curious what a "Spice secret receipt cheesecake" was all about. 

We chose the bitterballen, because the name was fun. 

Reader. It had a soft meaty interior that was a little on the too-moist side for me.  One bite and I didn't need to have another. Lucky for me I was with the Garbage Can, a.k.a My Mister, who will eat anything put in front of him.

He deemed them quite tasty, and even was willing to order them again at our next beach break in Curacao. 

For me, the best part of the meal was the view:

And the beer, Amstel Bright, which is way better than that stink oil Corona. 

Lunch on Curacao had a lot of choices with fun names, such a Broodje, Kaassoufle, Kroket and more Frikandels. 

I bypassed all of these choices and chose the catch of the day, which was really fishy and sort of made me queasy for the rest of the day, while My Mister had the chicken sate. I know this will surprise you, but he really liked his selection and deemed it delicious. 

The best part of what I put in my mouth in Curacao was the Pepsi, made with Real Sugar, because it does taste better.

Despite my fishy fish, the view was as beautiful in Curacao as it was the day before in Bonaire:

So you can see why these islands would be the perfect diet plan for me, Reader.  I've finally found entire islands with food I don't like, but with views and beverages I love, so it seems like a perfect health care plan.  Plus, I'd have plenty of Vitamin D, which is a bonus. 

I believe this is what the corporate jargon calls a win-win.  I've been gone from the corporate world for so long I've sort of forgotten, but it will come crashing back harshly in about 12 hours. Insert sad face and anxiety here. 

On a P.S note, we did find a really mangy-looking cat on Bonaire when we stopped to taste some cactus liquor.   My Mister declared that just because you can marinate cactus and call it a liquor doesn't mean you should. So there, Reader, we've found something he doesn't like. 

But back to the mangy cat. I spied her and started to reach down to give her a scratch, but I swear to God the thought flashed through my mind that I might have to declare it when I came home through Customs. There's that section where you have to check yes or no if you've been on a farm and touched stuff. While we weren't on a farm, she was so patchy looking she looked like something I would have to declare. 

I gave her a tentative scratch, but Kenny wasn't at all going to let a case of the mange stop him from a full-onslaught cuddle. 

That kitty was named Jo-Jo and the people at the cactus liquor stand said she's splotchy looking and skinny because she's allergic to almost all cat foods. But then again, they could have just been drunk-talking from all that horrible cactus liquor.   

So there you have it. A lot of bad things in my mouth, a possible case of international mange, and back to work tomorrow.  Happy Week to you, Reader. 


**as an aside to this post, I've had my first friendship dumping over politics, Reader! I never really saw that as a possibility, because I tend to keep my political opinions off of social media, my blog, etc., and therefore avoid senseless debates that sway no one ever. But not everyone is similarly minded, and when I finally had the audacity to say, "I don't agree with that, you believe X, I believe Y," well, the next thing I knew my weekend company was packing their bags at midnight and left my house and I was not only un-friended on Facebook, but blocked as well, so take that, Me. What did we ever do before we could block someone on Facebook, Reader?? What was the equivalent "take that"?? Anyway, I know I'm blocked by about three people (maybe more!) already so perhaps I am the problem, haha. People hate me hard out there. It's a good thing I like me just fine. 

The 13th Step

Hi Reader! I'm going on vacation. Yes, I just told the Internets I'm going on vacation, except I didn't say when, or for how long. However, I will say that Chez Bang Bang will not be vacant, as I used the old "family" ploy to guilt family into living in my house while I'm gone to take care of cats from both ends - the feeding and the pooping. 

I did a little bit of shopping for some vacation clothes. Also known as, "well, it's been a really cold and dark winter so far and I've gained about five months worth of pregnant weight" - only I'm not pregnant.

And I really need to get reacquainted with my razor. Because sheesh, things are a mess below the belt. By which I mean the back of my legs, Reader, get your mind outta my vagina area. That place is fine. Fine enough. Well, in the dark at least. No one who sees it will judge it harshly.  At least not to my face. 

However, while shopping for some new clothes I thought it might be a good time to venture into Leggings Territory, because the appeal of no zippers and buttons is, well, appealing. See paragraph two above. 

I was attracted to the thought of what feels like sweat pants on, but is perfectly acceptable as dinner attire, with a long enough shirt. 

Nay nay, Reader.  

I pulled them on, looked at myself in the mirror and recited my Serenity Prayer as I put them back on the hanger to return to the clothes-checker-inner-girl at the desk.

It went a little something like this:

God grant me the serenity 
to accept the thighs I cannot change in time for my trip

The courage to wear shorts on vacation anyway

And the wisdom to know leggings should never be part of my wardrobe.

So yeah. I've made my peace with it.

Sunday Night Blabs

I'd like to have something interesting to say, but I am tired, have a long Monday ahead of me, and am really attracted to my bed right now.

I will tell you this:

1. I have a short work week. I'm super excited about that.  
2. I ate deep fried bacon with maple syrup dipping sauce today. It was crazy good. And I deserve a heart attack. I don't want one, but if I had one I wouldn't think it just came out of nowhere. A heart attack could dick-punch me, say "You know why!!," and I'd completely understand.  
3. I sleep way more than I should to be productive. Probably because see above point.
4. I've been sleeping with my travel sleep mask on, and have been feeling much more well rested this past week. I never thought I could adjust, but I was wrong. I'm sort of addicted to it. 
5. We saw a lot of movies this past week. American Sniper, The Theory of Everything and Unbroken. They were all really good. I was most surprised by what bad luck the main character in Unbroken had...just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, they would. 
6. I'm constantly having to dab at some cat's ass around here. I thought cats were self-cleaning animals, but not so. 
7. I ran out of things to say.  You're welcome, because it was starting to go downhill.

Have a good upcoming week, Reader. 

Now It's Serious.

Oh, Nabisco. 

I think I'm going to have to break up with you. 

We're in an unhealthy relationship and you're making my pancreas work really hard. 

But I'm really going to have to file a lawsuit if I see Salted Carmel Oreo show up. Just so you know. Because I totally think you're blog stalking me. 

We'll know for sure if the Oreo changes shape into the form of a kitty head silhouette. Which would actually be kinda cute, especially at Halloween.

You're welcome, Nabisco. As long as chubby crazy cat ladies exist, you will too. 

Hand Crafted

It's been a ka-ray-zy month, Reader! Gone by so fast,  I refuse to believe it's already the 18th of January, except that I have a vacation coming up so I will believe it because that means me & Aruba will be entwined in a steamy love affair sooner rather than later.  So yeah, it's already past the half-way mark in January.  Aruba, we will be together soon. 

Sometimes I don't know why things work out so great for me, I guess I'm going to go with the belief it's because I'm such a great person.  You will be hard to dispute that fact, Reader, if you're here in front of me, because that would just be a show of bad manners so just believe it when I tell you that good things happen to me because I'm a great human being. That's why.

Example of the great things that happen to me: It was my 'WE ARE NOT SISTERS!" sister-by-another-mother's birthday this month, and we got together on Friday to celebrate. During her actual birthday, which she almost had the good grace to share with Elvis, I was in Atlanta getting inspired by martini's new ideas for work so I wasn't in town to celebrate her on the day she came out of a vagina.  Or maybe she didn't come out of a vagina, I'm not really sure of her actual arrival mode, so let's assume she fluttered down from the heaven's on angel's wings, and that's why she's an angel here on earth.  That's a waaaaaay prettier visual. We'll go with that.

So anywhozle. We finally got together to celebrate her beginning, and SHE gave ME a present. So yeah. Take that, all you lozers who don't get gifts on your friend's birthdays. I sort of like this little tradition she started. Let's hope she keeps it up or next year I'll be sorely disappointed. 

Anyway. It was only one of the neatest gifts she could have given me.  Last time I was at her lovely McMahansion, I noticed she had a new house numbers sign on her house and it was soooo puuurty! 

This is what a good person she is: I commented how lovely it was, and she had her artist-friend who made hers, and who happens to have mad artist-type skills, handcraft one for Chez Bang Bang!! 

It's hand-carved out of wood and meticulously painted, with a raised relief so even if you're blind you can read the numbers. I practiced my braille skills and sure enough, I could tell it was 6000. 

It actually says the name of the Blvd I live on, but ever-savvy-me, I blotted that out because I don't want to get burgled by some lurker who thinks I have great stuff and wants to burst into Chez Bang Bang and steal cats. 

Unless he takes the cat that occasionally pees where he's not supposed to, because that cat is negotiable. 

But I don't want to take the chance that while I'm being burgled, I also get ass-raped, because that is no fun...I mean, I assume that would be no fun. So good luck finding me, Bad Guys! Er, that's not a challenge. I have old, bad stuff in the house, including myself (especially myself), none of which you'd want, take my word for it. If you do come to burgle me, I have 8 attack cats on premise. Be warned. And I hope you have allergies. 

Back to the original intent of this post, which is to talk about how great I am, so great that I get gifts on my friend's birthday, so yeah. I'm great. 

Wait! 

I think the original intent of this post was to thank my beautiful Sister-Friend (not to be confused with a sister-wife) for helping to doll up Chez Bang Bang, and her talented artist friend for doing the actual work. I sidetrack easi... And now I have a great house plaque so I can always figure out which house is mine when I stumble home drunk. Which happens never, Reader, sheesh. It's just a jokey. Based on actual events. Sometimes. Not often. 

Fast-Forward 30 Years

The after-party looks a whole lot different at 48 than it did at 18, Reader.  Back then it was all "well, now what sort of extended fun are we going to have after the dance??!!" party, and extra-curricular excitement was planned. 

Back in my day, it was some hotel or fitness club or something I don't quite remember** with a pool and a sauna and a spa that we went to after all the dancing was done.  And then you got a few hours of sleep, jumped in some cars and went to Cedar Point for a day of amusement park rides.  Because 18.  


**I honestly cannot recall exactly where we went, but I do remember being embarrassed about getting in a swimsuit because FAT - which what I wouldn't give to go back in time and tell 18-year-old me she was not fat at all at 120 lbs., and looked perfectly great.

Forty-eight's afterparty was slightly different.  After my last guest left last night around 12:30 or 1:00 a.m. - something like that - I slathered up my poor hurting feet in prescription-strength arteritis-gel, took a dozen Aleve's, got a super-duper large glass of water for the bedside and conked out.  To awaken at 11, decide that was just too early, and rolled back over for another several hours of sleep, with Gussy as the softest, purry-est pillow in all the land.  

We finally forced ourselves out of bed around 2:30 p.m.  ~should feel more shame than I do~  because it was just getting ridiculous.  And then I remembered the best part about a party IS the after party. 

In the kitchen. 

A mish-mash of leftovers coupled with a nice cuppa hot coffee in a quiet and somewhat cleaned up house. Cold sloppy joe on a Kings Hawaiian bun, a few leftover cocktail shrimp, a piece of cold cheesecake. That's my kind of after party.  

The 18 year olds will get it. One day.  

I'm ready for a nap.

Happy Now Year

Why is it that the turning of a calendar page makes everything feel possible?  Why couldn't any Thursday do that for us, Reader? Because truly, any day is a day to move the needle in the direction towards your North Star.

Little shifts, Reader. That's all you need to do, each day, a little shift.  Turn a negative thought off. Turn reliving in the past off. Turn a future dream on.  Little by little, and let's see where we come out at the end of 2015. 

I hope you find some inspiration.  I'm cheating and just posting a few things I've been inspired by, because I planned a party for tomorrow (because crazy) and now have a house that begs to be cleaned. 

Learn from your past before you leave it behind. 

Last night while I watched the ball drop and listened to Taylor Swift rock in the new year I took a look back at 2014 and made a list of the best parts of 2014.  You were probably on it, Reader.  

But the best best part of 2014 for me? Were my three rescued hillbilly river rat kittens. Because while they cost me a fortune, and have added to the cleaning, and ruined the Christmas tree, I love them in my life. 

So yeah. Sometimes it's the small furry things. Take that for what you will, Reader.