Kristann Monaghan's Blog, page 16
August 7, 2013
Why I Hate My NEW Neighbors
I get that not everyone keeps the same hours as I do. In fact, I get that MOST of the world functions on a Mon-Fri 8-5 schedule. However, it would also behoove people to remember that there are people who work nights and therefore sleep during the day. I mean, who do you think mans that 24 hr gas station/Wal-Mart/diner/hotel or who takes care of patients at night? That’s right…the night shift workers do. And if we work nights, guess when we have to sleep? Duh genius! During the day! That being said, I got some new neighbors in one of the rentals across the street from me and they just happen to be…my favorite…college boys. After all the problems I had last year with the one house full, I was really hoping not to have to encounter the same type of rudeness and disrespect I had encountered before. But then this morning happened.
I came home from work and as usual got ready to go to bed. Why? Because it was 830 in the morning and because I was tired after working a 12 hour night shift. I had just snuggled down in the cool bedroom with rain softly falling outside to sleep in the gloomy darkness, and had closed my eyes when I heard it….the countdown and then a very LOUD very BAD garage band start to wail in the neighborhood. Immediately, my walls were vibrating and freaking out Ms. Ninja Kitten. I sighed, got up, and shut my window in hopes that would be enough to drown out the sounds of what sounded like a poor kitten being tortured. Nope. Didn’t help. I could still hear every obscene word, which should have been my first clue as to what was about to happen. Sighing again, I got up, reluctantly put on my shoes, and went outside to talk to the creators of the strangling monkey sounds that were coming from the garage across the street.
Approaching the boys, I waved politely, smiling through my dog tiredness, and they stopped screeching and making “music” so I could talk to them. Quietly, without anger, I explained to them that I lived across the street and worked nights and was trying to get some sleep so that I could return to the land of Peds that night. I then asked if they could please shut the garage door today while they were practicing to muffle the noise. NOT ONCE did I ask them to stop playing or turn it down. I just asked that the garage door be shut so I could leave my window open as to enjoy the cool air. The conversation then went like this:
Me: ”So is that agreeable? Just shut the garage door and I will be able to sleep.”
Cat Strangler #1: ”No. We have every right to play right now. It’s after 8 am and we don’t have to be quiet PER THE LAAAAW. Get a fan, bitch.”
Monkey Torturer #2: “Yeah lady. We don’t give a fuck if you are trying to sleep. Get a real fucking job like the rest of the world.”
Me (incredulous): ”Well, for your information, I do have a real job. It’s called being a nurse. AND I work nights AND I know the noise ordinance and you are violating it. I am asking nicely for you to just shut the garage door.”
Cat Strangler #1: ”You have no idea who you are dealing with right now. We LIVE here. We can do whatever we want.”
Puppy Kicker #3 (finally piping up): ”Yeah quit being such a CUNT” (at this word, his “bros” laughed and high-fived each other)
Me (now smiling a smile they should really have been frightened of, channeling my best Scarlett O’Hara going to Miss Melanie’s party in her red dress ): ”Ok BOYS….thank you ever so much” At this, I turned and walked to the end of the driveway, pulling my cell phone out of my pocket.
As the boys congratulated each other, they did not notice I was on the phone with Flagstaff PD, politely explaining the noise complaint I had. They even were nice enough to begin to torture small animals again for me while I was on the phone and I could say to the dispatcher that yes…that WAS the noise and yes, I was in front of my own house. Call me a bitch fine. Call me a CUNT, and you have no idea what you have just unleashed. Those boys are damn lucky my Bubby is out-of-town training for his new job (YEAH!) or that my cousins do NOT live nearby. In my family, that word is NEVER used and to use it against one of the girls in my family is to unleash the fury of an Irish tight-knit clan that will make you sorry you ever thought the word. Pretty sure. I finished with the dispatcher, hung up the phone an waved in response to their flipping me the bird and screaming new found uses of the C word while I sat on the steps and waited for the PD to show…which they did in about 5 minutes. Needless to say, 15 minutes later and a tongue lashing by the officer with noise ordinance violation tickets in hand, the garage door was shut. The sounds of torture stopped, allowing me to climb into my bed and dream the sleep of sweet revenge. Just you wait boys…just you wait. Don’t piss off this Irish tempered girl because I might just punch you in the taint…or key your car…just saying.
Oh yeah. I didn’t die today. I did meet my new neighbors and learn that their vocabulary is something to be rivaled in the obscenity department, but I didn’t die. I am Fat Girl hating my NEW neighbors who seem to pose as small animal torturers and am contemplating showing SOTL man where they live running. The experiment continues…
August 1, 2013
Family, Food, Fun and Even More Food
Last month, as you may recall, I went to my family reunion…An event I have been planning since December. Yup. Someone decided it was a good idea to let the Fat Girl be in charge of an event several states away and involving about 60 people. Whose bright idea was that? They probably knew that I would not let there be a lack of food at such and event. I am sure that is the reason. Let the Fat Girl take care of the food. Well, after months of planning, we arrived, ready to take Big Creek by storm with our loud Irish family and spend the weekend together.
We started the weekend by gathering at our Aunt B’s house and lots of harassing, teasing and loudness occurred. A bunch of us went out to eat (where BFF fit right in hijacking phones and making up statuses on Facebook) and then about 25 of us went to the movies in honor of our cousin Billy’s birthday. Since he had been a lover of zombie movies, we went to see World War Z…opening night…25 of us. Pretty sure we took up a quarter of the theater. It was a great way to celebrate Billy’s memory. Now, BFF HATES those types of movies. If I want company seeing any type of horror or zombie movie, I usually go with my Bubby and his Pocket GF cuz BFF will refuse to go. This time, however, she agreed seeing as how most of my cousins were gonna go and she didn’t want to be left behind. First thing we noticed upon getting to the theater, besides how it was crowed, was the size of the popcorn. A small popcorn was the equivalent to a large bucket out here in AZ…we could not believe that it was a small. I was in Fat Girl movie theater popcorn heaven. It meant I didn’t have to pace myself through the movie and could shove as much of that buttery goodness into my face as possible. Bring on the greasy stains on my jeans please. (Huh…that didn’t sound quite right) Movie started and BFF was anxious about the whole zombie thing, even though I assured her they would not eat her face. She has an aversion to things eating her face…go figure. I thought all was good, so I was sitting there, in Fat Girl Buttery Movie Theater Popcorn Heaven, minding my own business when all of a sudden…WHAM! My arm got pulled out of its socket by BFF scared by a zombie jumping out. I don’t know if I was more upset by my shoulder possibly being dislocated or the fact that in jumping in response to my arm being dislocated, I spilled some of the buttery goodness. Probably the latter to be honest. Don’t get between a Fat Girl and her movie theater popcorn I tell you. Luckily, my shoulder was not dislocated and BFF made it through the movie without her face getting eaten off. We even laughed when we decided the zombies movie like they were doing the robot. Pretty sure.
The day of the all day reunion arrived and I admit I was a little apprehensive that we would not have enough food to feed 60 people. I mean, you ask people to bring food and then you worry that not enough will show up or someone will forget. Little things like that. I did not have to worry. Holy Motherload of Food Batman! We were in a large picnic ramada and ended up filling four huge picnic tables FULL of food. I am pretty sure that the tables might have been groaning under the weight of all that food. One of my cousins was standing behind me while we were getting food and he commented “I fucking love my family. We seriously know how to eat!” It really is the best thing about our family (besides the company)…we know how to feed a crowd. There was a whole table full of nothing but desserts. And let me tell you, the BOYS in my family are the bakers and make the tastiest yum nummies for your tummy you have ever eaten. Plus, this is the Midwest, so all of this food was so filling. Pretty sure we all ate our weight in food and then went back for more. It was a great day. BFF fit right in to my family, teasing them and randomly hacking people’s Facebooks (learned quick didn’t ya cousins?) through their phones. It was a great time and we all agreed we need to do it more often…I even got a stripper dance complete with beatbox stripper music by one of my cousins….oh how I love them all. Also…side note: How do you just barge in on what is obviously a family gathering in a ramada ad decide to take over half of it? Are you wearing a green shirt? Can you not tell we are having a gathering? Were you confused by the sea of green shirts? Do you not see my name on the ramada as having rented it? Ummm…no. Thank goodness for my Stepmother, who is not afraid to go and tell people to leave. It was quite awesome.
The Monaghan cousins…I could not have spent my weekend with a better group of people
Oh yeah. I didn’t die today. I did spend the weekend with an amazing group of people I am proud to call my family. I also needed a bigger pant size after the weekend. Ugh. I am Fat Girl full of Midwestern Irish Iowa food needing a bigger pant size and loving my family running. The experiment continues…
July 17, 2013
Get Ready to Launch in 3…2…1…
This week has been very overwhelming with good and bad things. The bad I am choosing, for the moment, to suppress in the form of Cheetos and Skittles. The good I shall discuss here. The book coming out has been so crazy and feels so surreal. The best thing is that I have had several events recently promoting my book and they have been super successful. It still feels weird to pick up a copy of my own book and realize I am reading my own writing. Even better, and also kind of creepy, is searching Amazon or Barnes and Noble for your own name and it works!! I felt like I was my own form of stalker as I searched my own name and read reviews of my book. Is it possible to have a book stalker? Will I suddenly decide that I need to track my own movements and take pictures of myself to sell to tabloids? Will I suddenly jump out of bushes at myself? Creepy I tell you.
To celebrate my first book coming out, I decided to have a party. Even better is that my Seester and BIL were going to be here for a visit and my Mom was moving to AZ to retire at the same time. So, perfect timing to have a party. Of course, that meant some work on my part. I had to order a cake, books, get a place to have a party, let people know and of course enlist my BFF to help. Luckily, BFF had great ideas and my Seester has been to a ton of book signings so she also had some great ideas. Party was planned and people were invited. Of course, my nerves kicked in and I worried that no one would show up. I mean who really wants to have an autographed copy of a book by an unknown author? Who wants to take a chance on this Fat Girl? I decided it meant that there would just be more cake for me to shove in my gob if no one showed up. But people did show and I ended up signing a bunch of books, dancing like a stripper and eating cake and Skittles. Because of course there were Skittles. My family and friends were all there and people even drove up the mountain from Phoenix to hang out with us. Bestie brought up a whole car full of people! So I share with you some images and a few things I learned from having this party:
Let your friends decorate for you. If not, you will end up with a table full of crayons and attempted craft projects that look like a first grader completed them. Thank goodness for my Seester and my friends so that my table looked like this
Always let your Bubby pick out flowers for decoration. He is quite talented that Bubby of mine
Try to look professional and NOT at all like photos for signings are staged….this gem came courtesy of Pocket GF
Why hello customer…no you are not at all someone I know…and what the heck is BFF doing in the background?
4. Skittles make everything better.
Skittles…notice I have ALREADY eaten this package
5. Finally, make sure you are surrounded by awesome friends and family that want to celebrate your success and eat as much cake as they can shove in their gobs as you do. Then you don’t feel like you are just a Fat Girl eating cake all alone by yourself shamefully (not that THIS has EVER happened to me). You can at least eat cake with others and pretend they didn’t notice you get a second piece.
Pocket GF, Bestie, BFF, my god daughters and moi….
Mmmmmmm…cake
Look! I have three heads! Bff, me and BFFE
Seesters, Skittles and my stoob!
Oh yeah…I didn’t die today. I did feel like a creeper stalker looking up my own name and ate some cake but I didn’t die. I am Fat Girl PUBLISHED AUTHOR running. The experiment continues….
July 3, 2013
Cows, Corn and the Car Ride
Just last week, I decided to drag BFF to the crazy family reunion we were having in Iowa. Why? Well, let’s just say I hang out plenty with her family so it was time for her to experience the crazy Irish loud Midwestern family that I have. To say there are a lot of us, is quite the understatement. We were planning on just three generations showing up and that meant about 50-60 of us. So, after months of planning, Bubby, BFF, Pocket GF and I headed out to Iowa to immerse ourselves in hot dish, Maid-Rites, and Mountain Dew.
We stepped off the flight in Kansas City, collected our bags and headed outside to grab the shuttle to pick up our rental car. That is when it hit us like a wall of water…humidity. BFF immediately turned to me and said, “Oh. My. God. What is that? It feels disgusting out here.” And indeed it did…at 11:30 pm it felt disgusting. Pocket GF stated she felt as if her already curly hair was getting even curlier. BFF and Pocket GF had never been to Iowa, so they were unprepared for humidity. Both of these gals grew up in Arizona, where we lovingly call it a “dry heat”. Seriously. It could be 120 degrees outside and feel like you are scorching your skin off, but there is no humidity. It was so gross. I actually felt like it was hard to breathe because the air was so thick. Ew. How do people live like that? That, for sure, is one thing I do not miss about living in the Midwest. My naturally wavy hair immediately began its transformation into what I can only describe as an Afro clown wig. I would spend the rest of the weekend attempting poorly to tame it into shape.
We stayed the night in KC only due to the red-eye flight we took out of Phoenix. It was a good idea since after picking up our rental car (where the gal told me we didn’t need to pay for a separate driver since Bubby and I were “together”. Hello! We are NOT Appalachian! But ok…less fee for us) it was about 1 am. The car ride began with BFF and I having the following conversation:
BFF: “What is the difference between Kansas City, Missouri and Kansas City, Kansas?
Me: “They are in two different states?”
So our trip to Iowa began in earnest after a quick stop at a McDonald’s. I am happy to report that EVERYONE was accounted for when we got back into the mini van and began the drive to Iowa. Nobody got left behind this time. BFF and Pocket GF are in the back seat and I must admit…it is a little like traveling with two 5 year olds in the car. All Bubby and I could do was shake our heads. There was constant chatter and singing. The best part was when they started asking what was growing in the fields as we were passing farms. When I answered corn, the squealing began. They were that excited about corn. The squealing grew in pitch and tone when they saw…not their favorite NKOTB member…but cows. Yes, you read that right. Cows. Bubby and I are now laughing because they are so excited about cows in fields of grass. Just your normal everyday cows. Hanging out. The best was when we stopped at a rest stop to go pee. You would have never thought the two of them had ever seen a REAL rest stop.
Now, let me clarify. In Arizona, rest stops are scary places where you wonder whether or not you are gonna get butt-raped by some homeless vagrant as you attempt to pee. Sometimes there is just a porta potty to use. The vending machines, if you are lucky to have them, are locked up and behind cages. Rest stops are usually things in Arizona we avoid, taking our chances on the homegrown version of herpes that the local gas station has to offer instead. Rest stops in the Midwest are truly things of beauty. There are lush lawns, ramadas with picnic tables and grills (yes…people in the Midwest actually use rest stops to eat lunches. I distinctly remember this from my childhood), vending machines allowed to roam free and not be caged, and this one even had Wi-Fi. There was one weird thing about the bathroom stalls in these rest areas. Are they made for midgets? The stall walls came about to all of our shoulders. You could literally stand up and see over the stall and ask the person next to you if they were pooping. I mean, are all the people in Iowa that short that they felt it would provide too much privacy for the stall walls to be higher? Bubby says it was the same way in the boy’s side, although he was so tall that the walls came to his elbow. Weirdness. BFF and Pocket GF wasted no time in taking pictures of the rest stop. It was too cute.
I wasn’t kidding about the photos…Pocket GF shows us her Vanna imitation
The rest of the trip up to my small hometown of Ankeny was pretty uneventful. The weekend, however, was filled with so much food that I am certain I gained at least 5 lbs in just dessert eating. I shall save the details of the reunion for my next blog….I am still trying to decide who in my family to embarrass (insert evil laugh here). I will just say, it was the weirdest surreal moment to see various family members downloading my book onto their phones or e-readers or ordering the paperback off Amazon. I even watched my Bubby download it in the airport. I have so much to share with you that I am sure there will be multitudes of blogging to come…for now I shall leave you with BFF entering the state of Iowa
BFF was excited to see the welcome sign and very scared someone would hit her on the side of the road. I told her not to worry….this is Iowa
Oh yeah. I didn’t die today. I did survive a car ride with two girls who got excited about cows, corn and rest stops but I didn’t die. I am Fat Girl surviving the humidity of the Midwest with my afro clown wig and gorged on desserts running. The experiment continues….
June 23, 2013
Fat Girl Running
Reblogged from Bright Lights, Big Cacti:
Nearly 25 years ago, I had the great good fortune of being assigned to the same college dorm as Kristann Monaghan. I was a fairly quiet, naive sixteen year old from Arizona. She was eighteen and, at least from my perspective, quite the opposite. She had a big personality, even back then. She always played the best pranks, had the wildest adventures, and told the most exciting stories.
My Cottey sister and fellow author...check it out to read the intro to my book. She is brilliant!
June 20, 2013
Now Available….Look Out World Here I Come!
Need something to read this weekend? Here ya go!!
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1115756751?ean=2940016797526
http://www.kobobooks.com/search/search.html?q=kristann+monaghan
Dance of Joy is now commencing in 3…2…1…….
Oh yeah. I didn’t die today. Well, maybe from excitement, but I didn’t die today. Hello World! I am The Fat Girl published author running! The experiment continues….
June 18, 2013
A Quickie…..Complete With Bruises in Places
Am I living in a dream? Did all this just happen? I must admit that when I saw this today upon waking, I thought I was in someone’s dream. Then I got to thinking…why would someone want to dream my life? I mean, I know I am pretty awesome and I have mad ninja skills, but I don’t know if I am really dream material. Maybe a confusing dream where people get wings and fly or run through fields of Skittles and donuts. Or maybe, in the dream, I could be like a mystical oracle who delivers cryptic messages like bad fortune cookies that make you wonder if you should take the red pill or the blue pill. That would be cool. I actually pinched myself pretty hard today to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. Don’t ask BFF to pinch you though. She leaves bruises in places like the back of your upper arm, where your skin is super sensitive. Not cool. In pinching, I realized I was not dreaming. Pretty sure this is happening. Also, note you can now see what websites I visit most frequently. Thank goodness my porn ones didn’t show on here.
I discovered I apparently have an aversion to commas so I publicly apologize to my editor. I swear every other edit was “insert comma here”. Sigh. So now you know why I have not written in a while. I have been buried in commas. I might have had a dream that commas were attacking and chasing me down the street. Note to self: I probably should not eat pizza before I lay down to sleep. Skittles, yes. Pizza, no.
This weekend BFF, Bubby, Bubby’s Pocket GF, Seester and my BIL(the whole crew!) are all traveling to the land of corn and pig farms….IOWA. That is right. It is family reunion time!! Time to go back and hang with family. I am sure I will come back with some fun stories to tell you all!! Let’s hope Uncle M does not leave Aunt P at the McDonald’s again.
I leave you with this tidbit. SEVERAL Fat Girl Dances of Joy have occurred this week. Some without clothes. Just saying…
Oh yeah. I didn’t die today. I did pinch myself to make sure that I was not in a dream and pretty sure I left some bruises but I didn’t die. I am Fat Girl who wrote a book and going to corn fields for family fun running. The experiment continues….
May 28, 2013
Some Call It Stalking. I Call It Love. The Annual Encounter With Wil Wheaton (@wilw)
As you may all know, every year I go to the ultimate ninja nerdfest that is Phoenix Comicon to hone my ever powerful ninja nerdy Fat Girl skills. This year was no different. One of the reasons I go is because…yes…you guessed it…Wil Wheaton. I mean come on…who wouldn’t be excited to be in the same building as Wil Wheaton? Bubby’s Pocket GF also shares the obsession love that BFF and I have for Wil and it was her goal this year to get his autograph. A few days before we left to go down to the sweltering abyss that is Phoenix, I decided to check out the prices of actually doing an official photo op with him and to my surprise it was quite affordable. It was only $20 to be close enough to Wil to get a photo taken and we could get all four of us in the photo!! WHAT?? Oh this was so happening. We decided to see when he was doing photo ops so as to fit it into our schedule (remember you MUST plan out your con experience) but it was happening. Oh yes. It was happening.
We all venture into the cesspool that is Phoenix to make our nerd dreams come true and Thursday night we see that there is an opportunity for photos on Friday. I check online and there it is…the opportunity of a few glorious minutes of our lives available for purchase for only $20. It was quickly purchased and jumps in the air were achieved. I believe a dance of joy even happened Fat Girl style. I barely contain my excitement for Friday afternoon and as we got in line we were all excited to get to stand close to Wil Wheaton. Standing in line was a whole different experience. We spent some time discussing whether or not the girl directly across from us in line dressed as an avatar was covered in just body paint or a body stocking because it was hard to tell (for the record it was JUST body paint on the top and a painted body stocking on the bottom. At least her nipples were covered). Of course there were some parents of the year in front of us who allowed their child to run his tongue on the handrail repeatedly. Ew. So gross. They might have earned a spot on my list of worst parents. And as if the child running his tongue on the handrail wasn’t bad enough, we actually witnessed the Mom flossing her teeth in line. Pretty sure I threw up in my mouth a little bit. Having never done an official photo op with anyone before (our other photo with Wil was done by the graciousness of his heart when he autographed photos for us), we were unsure what to expect. Would we be herded through like cattle? Would we get a photo with our eyes closed or a booger hanging out of our noses? We were surprised they provided us with buckets to put our stuff in so our bag of sacks wouldn’t be in the picture and also a large mirror so we could check for hanging boogers or lunch in your teeth (I could have asked that gal in front of us to borrow her floss). We rounded the corner and I saw him…WIL WHEATON…and realized I should have gone pee. I was really hoping that I would not create a puddle near Wil’s feet as we take a photo. OMG…this was so happening. One last check of hair, teeth and noses and we were ready.
We walk up to Wil Wheaton and I immediately feel like my tongue has become glued to my mouth and no words are going to come out but my nervous hysterical giggle I get in such occasions just might make an appearance. Oh great. I am gonna look like a complete and total idiot giggling hysterically while peeing my pants. Or my cheesy Fat Girl Disney face might happen. Seriously. I am hopeless. At this point I am hoping I don’t trip, stutter, or accidentally grab his ass in an attempt to take a non cheesy picture. Wil turns to me and BFF and says “Oh you two are the sparkliest superheroes ever!” Then he spots Pocket GF, whose excitement has overcome her and she has approached with her hands over her ears barely containing her excitement and is speechless, and says “Are you ok?” Realizing that neither myself or Pocket GF has the ability to speak right at that moment besides maybe meowing in a desperate attempt at speech, BFF speaks up and says “It is the realization of a dream come true for her for the past two years to meet you.” Wil, being the ever gracious man he is to his fans, says “Aren’t you adorable!” And then it happens. Wil sticks out his hand and says to Pocket GF ”Hi! I’m Wil!” and shakes her hand. It was all I could do right then not to do a Fat Girl Dance Of Joy for her. Picture was taken and Wil again says what a pleasure our group was. Trying to not look nerdy we all thank him and then Pocket GF and I jump up and down in true fan girl excitement and give a huge double high-five. We might have been in full view of Wil Wheaton but we just didn’t care. What just happened? The most incredible experience in all our lives is what! And our picture shows it…thank goodness I didn’t pee.
See the McCheesy grins we all have…yup. Nerd dreams come true. Pretty sure he is lucky I didn’t grab his hand or his ass or giggle hysterically.
I cannot even begin to describe the gloriousness that this moment was but trust me in saying it was made of awesome sauce. It will forever be a step closer to actually being able to use my mouth to form words to tell Wil Wheaton about my blog and how I stalk him sometimes in it. Some call it stalking. I call it love. And now to wait another year…sigh.
Oh yeah. I didn’t die today. Well, I almost did die of fan girl excitement in meeting Wil Wheaton (and yes I shamelessly tagged his twitter in an attempt to get him to read this) but I didn’t die. I am Fat Girl having a truly nerdy dream come true and not peeing my pants while achieving it running. The experiment continues…
May 17, 2013
An Invitation To Meow?
This summer we are having a family reunion back in Iowa (let’s hope Uncle M doesn’t leave Aunt P at the McDonald’s again) and somehow I got stuck being in charge of it. Who’s bright idea was this anyways? Who voluntarily puts me in charge of anything? Pretty sure my family might regret that at some point. In order to make sure everyone knew about the reunion, I decided that invitations should go out. And not just any invitations, but I decided being the crafty crafter that I am (I mean I do have a whole room that I call my craft dojo)that only handmade invitations would do. I decided to enlist the help of another crafty crafter….that of Bubby’s Pocket GF. We made a date to go to Michael’s, thinking we would be in and out in no time and crafting our little hearts out. We were wrong. Oh so wrong.
We go into Michael’s and start to try and figure out how we are going to make these invitations. Now to fully understand this story, you have to understand something. Bubby’s Pocket GF and I have this habit of meowing at each other. I do not know why. I do not claim to understand this quirk, but meowing it is. Maybe we were cats in a former life. Maybe we are just crazy. We are crazy cat ladies. Who knows. But there it is. We meow.
Very quickly we realize that we are completely overwhelmed by the thought of making these invitations and had no idea what to do. It also does not help that we get easily distracted by shiny objects and Hello Kitty scrapbook stuff. We must have walked the same three aisles over and over just trying to find everything we needed. I mean how hard is it to find stickers that say family reunion? Apparently very hard. We were starting to get stressed out and bewildered by the amount of stuff in the aisles.
Having found something I thought would work well instead of stickers, I turned to Bubby’s Pocket GF who was standing next to me and quickly meowed at her to get her attention. To my horror, it was NOT Pocket GF standing next to me but a complete stranger. In my confusion and delirium, I actually meowed at her again. She gave me a look that stated I was obviously crazy and quickly moved away from me. Pocket GF, who by now had miraculously appeared on the other side of me probably attracted by my desperate meowing, said “Did you just meow at that lady?” As I started to say yes in fact I did meow at her like a crazy cat lady, all I could do was start laughing hysterically about it. So did Pocket GF. I mean you would have too. Honestly. Who meows at perfect strangers? The Fat Girl does.
Several hours and many meows later, we finally managed to get out of the store and make invitations. We even enlisted Bubby’s help with gluing and such. They turned out pretty darn cute even if my Seester said half of hers was glued on upside down. I told her that meant she won the secret prize of a free Mountain Dew at the reunion. She didn’t believe me. Like I said. ..who put me in charge?
Oh yeah. I didn’t die today. I did however become delirious in Michael’s trying to make homemade invitations for our family reunion. I am Fat Girl who meows at Bubby’s Pocket GF and now apparently strangers in stores running. The experiment continues. ..
May 12, 2013
Just A Spoonful Of Sugar…Happy Mother’s Day!
Being that today is Mother’s Day I shall write about my little Pocket Momma. Many of you have been introduced to her do to the said coochy screaming incident but just in case you haven’t…here is one just for my Mom. My Mom is one funny chick I tell you and sometimes she doesn’t even realize it. Now Mom is also a FANTASTIC baker and I always love it when she bakes for us because we can be assured it will be quite tasty and not at all good for you. Although this one time when I was visiting she made peanut butter cookies for me and Seester. When it was pointed out to her that I was allergic to peanuts, she said “Well, I knew ONE of you was and the other was allergic to almonds.I can’t keep that straight.” Gee Mom…are you trying to kill one of us? Why not just make the cookies without any nuts? Oh I love her.
Mommy and me circa 1971
In saying that my Mom is the world’s best baker, I must relay a story about her and her baking. I always looked forward to coming home on the holidays when I had moved out so I could have some of her pie (mmmmmm…pie). Pretty sure she is the reason for my unholy love of pie. Just the thought of her flaky pie crust (the secret is lard or Crisco) make my mouth water. Seriously. Her pie is that good. Pretty sure if I asked you after tasting my Mom’s pie to go parade around downtown with your underwear on your head that you would so you could have another piece of pie. Or that could just be the punishment my Mom instituted on my Bubby when he wouldn’t change his underwear…you will never know the truth. Well, I do…
One Thanksgiving, after stuffing ourselves with all the food that the table protested the weight of, us kids decided to have some of Mom’s pie. Mom declined saying she was stuffed so we eagerly cut into it, drooling over the anticipation, and put on some whipped cream and sat down to enjoy. I immediately broke off a piece of that flaky yummy crust and just ate that. Looking up, I see Bubby with a weird look on his face as he ate his first bite. Concerned I looked at my Seester who also had a strange look on her face. Without saying anything, Bubby nods to my pie and motions for me to taste it. Frightened, I plunge my fork into the pie and put it in my mouth. Holy Mother Of All That Is Good What Is That TASTE? The worst tasting pie taste is now in my mouth and my eyes widen as I look to my siblings who are sitting there silently watching me. Oh. My. God. I try to wash the taste out of my mouth with Mountain Dew but it won’t leave. It has taken over my body and is so horrid, so evil, I cannot even begin to describe it. Horrified that my Mom’s pie could taste like death, I silently look to my siblings as to what to do. Mom, who has been engrossed in her book, finally notices the silence and says from her chair without looking up “I take it from the silence you are all enjoying my pie!” Quickly, we clamor how much we love it and how wonderful it is, practically singing songs about it, all the while making faces and trying to get the death taste out of our mouths. Seester has gone so far as to try to scrub her tongue with her fork to make it better and Bubby is eating his napkin to make it go away. Mom, luckily with her head still in her book, smiles and continues to read not noticing me trying not to gag over whatever it was I just attempted to eat.
Whispering, Seester asks what we are going to do. We all know we cannot throw the pie away…she will see it. She will know. We must eat it. Bubby contemplates if he can make it to the bathroom and flush his but this is only a solution for one slice and we have three huge slices to get rid of. All of us making trips to the potty with our pie plates might make my Mom wonder what is up and I don’t think she would buy the notion that it tastes better when you eat it in the bathtub. Quietly I get up and return with the whipped cream and start piling it on my slice! Genius. My siblings follow suit and somehow the mounds of whipped cream mask enough of the death taste for us to stomach eating the pie. Pretty sure my love of pie was ruined for a while after this experience. It was THAT BAD I tell you. We managed to eat the pie and returned to the living room area to watch a movie, each of us telling Mom thank you for the pie and how delicious it was all the while knowing that we will never eat another slice of that. What the hell did she do to that pie? Why was it so horrid?
Our unanswered questions were answered when Mom got up awhile later to get herself some pie. We all exchanged glances knowing how horrid that pie was and wondered if she would think it was good and we would all go to our graves never telling her. It got super silent as we all watched her take her first bite and her expression turned to horror and she spit it out. Relief washed over me as she exclaimed “What the hell is wrong with this pie? Why did you guys not say how horrid it was? Holy hell….what is that flavor?” Pretty sure she would have believed me if I had told her it was zombie pie at this point. We all just looked at her and finally Bubby asked her “Mom? What did you do to the pie? It tastes like a dinosaur took a shit in it, then buried its kill and then vomited in it.” Mom looked at the pie, sniffed it, licked it and exclaimed “I think I forgot to put the sugar in the pie! No wonder it tastes like crap! How did you guys eat this?” By now we are all giggling over all the ways we tried to get rid of the pie. Seester, in between giggles, says “We engulfed it in whipped cream and let it slide down without chewing!” Mom turns to me as I am laughing hysterically and asks me why we did not tell her. I looked at her and said “Mom….we didn’t want to hut your feelings. But seriously. That pie tastes like death heated up and served cold. It is the most horrid pie I have ever eaten in my life.” Mom is now laughing as she gets up and scrapes the offensive pie into the trash and says to us “I cannot believe you ate the whole slice!!” We must have laughed for hours over that pie even telling Mom how Seester was trying to scrape her tongue off with her fork to get rid of the taste. Good thing my Mom has a great sense of humor.
Best part of this story. Mom got up early the next morning and lovingly made us another pie. This time WITH sugar. I love my Mom….Happy Mother’s Day Mom.
I still love her pies but will take them with sugar from now on!
Oh yeah. I didn’t die today. I instead remembered one of the funniest moments with my Mom for Mother’s Day and am glad I didn’t die eating her pie. I am Fat Girl whose Mom brings us many sources of laughter and sometimes death tasting no sugar pie running. The experiment continues….
