Christmas haul

It's fun trimming gifts down to the bare essentials. Everyone's old enough not to have to have eleventy million boxes to open just because. And, some family is elsewhere so it's not like nine hundred folks are around, and some peeps have to work Christmas Eve. Like that.

So, we ate Japanese on Christmas Eve! It was awesome-hit the restaurant that Frothlet #2 is managing, met his boss who is a sweetheart and basically unintelligible, but we got the gist. And the gist was good. We had potstickers, tuna tartare taco thingies (which are da bomb), miso soup, striped bass in beurre blanc with jalapenos and peanuts and garlic greens (da bomb) and bass in a buttery glaze (da bomb). We pretty much bombed our guts. Quite fabulous food.

Then, we waited til last night for Frothlet #2 to come over and open presents. His "big" present was Skyrim, the new game that's part of the Elder Scrolls series. So, of course, I handed him a big fat heavy box containing the new Trivial Pursuit where you bet on whether your neighbor will answer right. I said,"I know you've been waiting for this." Then, I made him open up the pajamas and assorted small miscellany before I actually gave him the game. It's not like he didn't know what we were doing. Gosh. They just grow up too fast from the age of five to twenty-five...

Then I gave Mr. Froth his fabulous gifts: underwear, coffeemaker, can opener and the piece de resistance----chainsaw. I thought he'd said our chainsaw was broken.

It was the leaf blower. Well.

So I opened my gifts, which included a crockpot, which I almost bought for myself anyway. Yippeee! I had also asked for a longer chain for a cross he'd given me a few years ago, thinking he could go to Target or wherever.

He handed me a Zales bag, with tears in his eyes and mewled, "I just hope you like it."

I pulled out the tissue paper and there was a fantabulous space age potato peeler! Yes! Mrs. Frothlet #1 had remarked on the aged status of our current potato peeler-you know, the one that is bare bones and makes KP the  punishment that it is.

This one has a rubber handle and, well, a peeler section...and is space age!

He also did get me another chain, with another quite beautiful cross attached to it, but I still need to get a longer one for the other one and this means I shall be wearing multiple crosses at some point, because they're all so pretty and will that make me a Goth or Madonna-looking person?

I don't care. I'm doing it.

Perhaps it will bring me luck playing the new Trivial Pursuit game or the Dominoes game I also bought. 

I can't remember how to play Dominoes, but they were cheap.

Merry Christmas to everbuds

I haven't posted in a bit I just noticed. My life has just been a whirlwind of glittering holiday parties, scooping up large carat jewels, ribbon wrapping shiny cars and jetting away to Gstaad.

Or not. Perhaps I'm just lazy. Surely not. Don't call me Shirley. Stop me now.

So, we're lowkeying Christmas since as how Frothlet #1 and his lovely wife are up in Oklahoma visiting her 'rents. We're babysitting extra kittehs who have become lovely lapcats when they're not growling at and harassing Dot. Frothlet #2 is working this evening so we're going to his restaurant for dinner.

I must brag on my chilrens and thank God for good stuff that has come their way. Frothlet #1's job is going quite swimmingly, he got an unexpected (though too small) raise and his superiors love him. Hopefully he'll be promoted soonly.

Frothlet #2 got a call from the owner of a restaurant at which he worked for two weeks a year ago this summer. He had quit since it was new and he wasn't making any money. Last week she contacted him out of the blue and offered him the general managership of the restaurant. Wants to get it marketed, yada yada and had been impressed with him the year ago two week stint. How cool is that?

Then, we have the haunting of our alarm clock which we're attributing either Lucky the dead Black Cat, Elvis the dead Yellow Lab, Beebs the dead Black Lab, or my mother in law, whose ashes reside on our mantle...

Our early '70's Poverty Apartment Christmas decor has expanded to include some glittery angels hanging on the kitchen light fixture and has diminished by the unexplained leaping onto the floor from the tv top of a crystal bell ornament thing. It either didn't like the music we were listening to or it's in cahoots with the clock.

Hope your Christmas is fabu. 

I AM the Bunko queen

I lost tonight at Bunko and still won $20 for being the best loser. Plus I won my white elephant gift choice and the traveling gift. Losers are our friends. It's all in the wrist, I tell ya.

Still Life with Miscellany

Speaking of stillborn-how 'bout them Sooners? There is only one other instance I can remember that Mr. Froth walked away from watching an entire game so we're up to two, now. They've turned into clarified butter left out for midnight roaches. In case you have no idea what I'm talking about last night Oklahoma State thrashed the Sooners. Beat the holy hell out of them. Our neighbors, Frothlet #1 and his wife, and their friend (Frothlet #2 was working so had an actual productive evening) came over for the usual watch party.

We turned the tv off at halftime and migrated to the front porch spewing profanities unheard within the last millennium. Some of us decided new coaching staff was in order because if you're going to constantly pursue national championships and tout yourself as that sort of team year after year you best WIN ONE more often than every eleven years. Or maybe even a bowl game. That would be awesome. Or even the conference championship.

Oh well.

But, I did get to show off my glittering wonderland of Christmas decor that I got yesterday along with some trouser socks and a mop. Perched atop the mantle sits a cunning 12 inch colored metal ball tree surrounded by metallic tinsel. Three different colors of tinsel! Metal is the theme as you can tell. I also artfully arranged three metal spiky star thingies around all that other metal. Then there's the metal tree skeleton surrounded by more metal tinsel on top of the tv, which I insist is 8 inches high but which Mr. Froth said is 6 inches and wouldn't I just LOVE to have an eight-incher.

Then, there's the metal spiky star thingie hanging from the kitchen light. Oh, I almost forgot the centerpiece of the mantle-an Elvis guitar ornament that my neighbor gave to me that plays two songs. She has refined sensibilities like mine.

Years ago, for many years, I did really decorate the house quite beautifully, with garlands and ribbon and big tree and wreathes and shit, and strung lights all across the bushes in front. I even lit the monster yuccas and hollies in the back which made sitting on the deck really atmospheric. Clark Griswald had nothing on me.

Unfortunately, a couple of years ago I shorted out the electrical plug on the outside of the garage while stringing lights and it started smoking and I called the fire department and decided to cut back a bit on the  frenzy...

Too, the attic contains all the Christmas paraphernalia and that is a scary place, so it's just easier to transform our downstairs into "Early '70's Poverty Apartment" which is what I call this year's theme.

Dancing with Tchotchkes

An epic saga thrillingly displaying one woman's connection with her collection as she coos softly to a Lladro and caresses a Baccarat. Where will it lead her?

Owls, that is. Swimming pools, movie stars. Wait. No, that's different.

So, owls that I inherited from my mother in law after Mr.Froth, his sis and I cleaned out the elder Froth's apartment prior to his hitting the nursing home-It saddened me that the collection of owls, for which I harbor less than zero interest, would go to some stranger or be broken up into single owls. And that would deprive me of the chance one day to sell them on Ebay myself.

They live on the hutch in the entryway and now surround a humongous poinsettia that my neighbor got us which is serving as our Christmas tree. I'm sure they're much happier in a "natural" setting and maybe won't rise up and kill me dead in the middle of the night. So, even after the aborted dollar store foray last week I'm going to hit Target and try, once again, to gather some cheap shit that I can strew about to festivize this dump.I'm thinking total metal garlands or frosted fake everything.

And another thing about voting

I'm thinking Baby Boomers and older are the most adamant about voting in general. After that, as in, younger than that, there seems to be a gravy slide of caring. What is that all about? So, maybe we screwed up everything in the 60's, inadvertently some of us by virtue of just being alive, or whatever,but  most everyone I know my age votes. I think.  Maybe I'm deluded.

I'm sad about the apathy that reigns with many people. It doesn't matter that you have to vote for some douchebag. If you DON'T vote for any douchebag, then it's a gimme to whomever. I sigh.

And another thing-voting

If you don't vote, quitcherbitchin.

It's Friday-It's core dump day

Here is another huge, monstrous, gargantuan, annoying pet peeve of mine.

Where does anyone get off on pronouncing any Democrat president or Congressional representative as brilliant? Oh, we had to put up with that ridiculousness with Clinton. He's brilliant. He's a Rhodes scholar. Hell, if I had the money and the in I could have been a Rhodes scholar. He's a fucking mouth breather. And if you think I'm lying watch him during a Kennedy Center gala when he was sitting next to his beloved...mouth breathing. Plus, he's a dick. And, not that articulate.

Obama brilliant? Have you read his writings? Harvard stuff? I'm not talking about the Ayers' ghost writing. It's junior high, as is his wife's thesis. Have you paid attention when he talks off the cuff? Have you evaluated his philosophical renderings? Oh, there aren't any worth evaluating? Well, there is that. He can't even do an appropriate accent that might resonate with whatever crowd he's yammering to.

Of course, there's the lovely Pelosi-semi senile and a spawn of the D'Allesandro family in Maryland. They're capitalists, you know. Very rich. The "pass it to find out what's in it" sweetie. Bless her heart.

And, of course, the past two Democrat Senate leaders, Daschle and Reid. I'm gobsmacked and nonplussed that two totally clinically depressed sounding gents can make it as far as they have. Testosterone much? Speak up honey, do you need a hug?

Post dollar store update

I went to DSW and bought three pairs of shoes in revenge.

Dollar store place-can ya tell I'm cranky?

So last Sunday, after becoming totally disenamored of everyone and everything football, I went out to the dollar store to buy cheap ornaments and trailing things. Because I refuse to go into the attic which is a hellhole and scary and I just am not going to do it.

I drifted about the store dropping inexpensive balls and dangly things and fake poinsettia things into my cart. I figured I could weave this crap into the crap that's already on the mantle and the hutch and make it look sort of festive. I'm not really in a FESTIVE mood. So, I got some jingle bells and some Christmas kitchen potholders and a towel and some cheap scented candles.

Then I went to the register to check out.

I plopped my five bags' worth of shit onto the conveyor (I know it was five bags' worth because the checkout girl bagged it) and prepared to pay. I pulled my MC out and she asked, "Is it Visa or debit?"

Nonchalantly I said, "No, it's Master Card."

Checkout girl: "We dun tek Master Cahd. See de sine on the regtrer. Only debit an Visa, check, other..."

Me: "Excuse me? We charge everything and, well, what?"

Checkout girl: "Just tose and debit. An chek."

Me: Replopping five bags worth of DOLLAR SHIT,  mind you, DOLLAR SHIT, back onto the desk while a ?manager? comes over and prints something out which I'm thinking-"Oh, reconsider?" No. Ya can't debit a MC credit card."Debit card or Visa or chek."

But, wait, you can accept a check from someone which, er, makes sense in what universe?

So, I left without my cheap Christmas shit and I said loudly "This is ridiculous."


And, as I exited the actual door I said, "I cannot fucking believe this."

What up in the offing

Hey Stu, and probably some readers who never comment, or some relatives with whom I disagree on political stuff but who HAVE TO LOVE ME REGARDLESS...you may not blogroll me or like me with this. But, c'est la vie.

We're coming down to a rather important election and the Repubs are still jacking around. They need to get their act together because there really is not any sort of viable libertarian candidate. Ron Paul? He's senile and a crackpot. We all need to have something other than Obama, anything, anything.

Our current president is a cypher, both historically, academically, politically and ethically. Which has made him a lovely vessel for whomever strikes his fancy or whoever fancies his cypherness-OOH. Something sparkly and socialisty looking! OOOH! I can ramrod through some questionable, unread, earmarked (oh no. not an earmark? No. Surely not.) bill that will fuck up everyone's insurance. And make those PESKY sorts who actually have money but didn't want to buy insurance because they were spending their money on something else BUY insurance. Did you know how few uninsured are covered under Obamacare?

Those fabulous coastie sorts, like Nancy and Barney, wow, they are in sycophant heaven. Or, were. Oops. Gosh. Sorry bout that Fannie Mae shit. And that congressional trading shit. Too bad for ya. Hope all of your ethical and people-caring about constituents drop their hypocrisy and focus in on all that. Maybe not.

Hope you, Michelle, our belle, keep reinforcing the no fat ass left behind as you hit the chocolate sculpture and fish sliders and shakes and "occasional" slips on the diet slope. Your cause is SO historic. So historic.

But, back to the main man-not quite up to bigboy par, are we? The hot air balloon is rather deflating, no? Could it be because you're a cypher? Cypher, number, puppet. Bless your heart.

Whatevs

Been busy tending to broken water heaters, checking on furnace heaters, moving to a new office and posting on other sites in response to dumbshits.

It's getting down to nutcutting time, folks. Politically speaking, that is.