Betty Lou Cosmetics

Betty Lou Cosmetics Takes To the Road!
Betty Lou has finally filled her transportation needs to circulate her goods throughout the area. You can score the best clumping mascara or runny base from the dime baskets found in the bed of our truck! (shhhh, but rumor has it that we might even open the tailgate this weekend for a massive blowout sale! Just so long as that slut, Susie Mae, isn't around so I don't have to worry about what my husband is doing.) Our corporate offices are located out near the lake, in the white travel trailer with the Natural Light sign on the front.
I am pleased to announce that we have a whole new stock of items since the last batch was ruined when the 12 pack bursted in the pickup. Stupid common law husband and that cheap beer. I keep telling him that Keystone is the way to go.
If you have any questions, please call my cell phone number. If you can't get through, it's because I'm out on the boat and there's no signal or cause I ran out of minutes.

Ski Trip Remix

This excerpt was originally written upon the return from a ski trip in Feb. 2008 with Marco and William.

---

So I'm skiing...
the first day all the way down a mountain on a green......supposedly. I find myself on a straightaway ...alone....no powder ..... and tell my cocky self, "NOW, I GOT THIS!" Next thing I know, I've slammed into the ground with my gut .... At this point I have no idea where my legs are, let alone my skis. So I laid there, face down, sprawled out, with my body still spinning like a top (via my gut) on the ice. Next, some 80-year-old-dude-and-company (probably the nursing home skiing squad) flies by, and stops effortlessly to make sure I'm ok. I grunted something and then started the search for my legs.

The Glider ....
is what I call William because of the way he seems to glide across the room, butt-cheeks-a-shimmying, when merely walking. I'm pretty sure it's some sort of gift .... ah if only you could see him glide across Falcon Crest grounds, garden hose in one hand, cigarette in the other, as he's watering the various pachakakas and frootloopies, (those are supposed to be plant names, but I don't know any plant/flower names). OH so back to my point, you think skiing would come naturally. But maybe not having the cigarrette and coffee in both hands and ski poles instead, throws off his balance.

We were waiting to fly standby...
on our way back from Denver and the three of us are sitting side-by-side in the waiting room seats. I look up to notice a whole family of very odd looking people. I think I overstared at them too,cause then the dad wouldn't stop looking at me. Anyway, all the kids had big square heads like the yellow lego worker figures that I used to play with. Then I saw the mom. Genes are so cruel. So I'm sitting there pondering this family, when William starts talking about this article he read about men who dress as cowboys but really aren't cowboys. Out of the corner of my eye (since I can't tear my eyes off of the lego family) I see Will turn toward Marco who's between us, and ACTUALLY say this,"They're not real cowboys like us, honey." For 10 seconds, there was stone cold silence between the 3 of us .... I am thinking to myself ... ok don't bust out laughing right here in this crowded room .... and I feel Marco's stiff body beside me trying to do the same. Then I just lose it. Cover my face with my hands and bend over and I've been laughing ever since.

Wanna know....
how to make William scream like a girl? Get in the gondola and sit opposite him. Then get up and walk over and sit beside him while you are moving down the mountain. That's when there was a loud squeal and the hands started flapping in the air and I just looked at him like - are you kidding me? I forgot about the "fear of heights" thing and that an action like that might cause William to turn into Minnie Mouse on speed. I was 75% amused, 25% sorry for scaring her. Once Minnie regained composure, and the time came to gather my things on the seat across from me, I slowly used my pole to retrieve them as he watched me. I must attest that Disney-appropriate phrases WERE NOT what came from his mouth when I walked across that gondola.

---

Disclaimer: I love my boys dearly!!!!!!!!

Blogging is totally "Worth My Wild"

I love a good laugh when someone I know screws up a cliche.
"Give a mexican a cliche, and he'll screw it up everytime."
Believe me, he will. I am in the process of gathering samplings of those from my brown friends. But in the meantime here's a couple of top-notch examples I have either witnessed or had them relayed to me from the non-brown ppl in my life.

My mother once said something about someone "...going to hell in a hatbox." Sounds like an interesting way to go, Mom.

"...if it is worth your wild." Is it? Was it? I hope so, cause it was so wild I don't even remember what I did!

This is just the beginning of many posts of this nature. So be prepared!

Horizon Ridge Chronicles

This excerpt was originally written in the Summer of 2008.

---

Ahhhhh, the rewards of home-ownership. The weekly mowing during the summers, the weeding and the unsuspected landmines masquerading as trees.

See the tree in the yard? Well I placed bricks around it to spruce up the look (sidenote).

Some time ago, I was out in the yard after mowing, having finished right before it started to rain (downpour). At this point, I noticed that some paint was chipping right below the roofline - I'll take a stab at it and call it "flashing" - and was trying to get a good look at it in the rain, so I started backing away from the house. At this point, I found myself flying backwards, floundering in some sort of entanglement, mid-air.

I had forgotten a tree was there, stepped on a brick and, thus, my dramatic fall in the rain began. I got tangled up in a stabilizing wire that is attached to the tree by a mount in the ground, and then faceplanted in the dirt/mulch around the tree. After I absorbed what had just happened (while laying on the ground), I jumped up thinking no one could have seen it since it was raining.

WHATEVER. The neighbor down the street was unloading her groceries in the rain and saw the whole thing go down.

It is now called Whomping Willow.

Musings .... if you will

Well, today has been an interesting day of emails and blurbs.

1. I was annointed with the slur of "crackerface". Not really sure what to make of that.

2. Conversations with Drew. Here's a sampling:

Sample A
Camisa: Why are we such TV whores?
Big D: Because our lives are empty and we live vicariously through the lives of people that are not real and are actually reciting words written by a man who orders takeout and watches a lot of porn.

Sample B
Camisa: I will breakdance for you.
Big D: Wow, really? That’s the gift that keeps on giving.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I think there was some sarcasm in there somewhere.

Capchta

Can't do it ... just can't. Not even to save my life. I have been locked out of so many accounts just because I don't have the super powers necessary to read, decipher and sufficiently regurgitate a random sequence of letters and numbers in order to alter or establish an account. I'm pretty sure vision isn't a factor. I have tried a variety of approaches, masquerading as possible solutions, to my ineptitude, one of which includes saying the letters and numbers aloud whilst pecking them out with one finger. I've even had people stand behind me and help me read them out. It's ridiculous. Eventually I get through, but I'm pretty sure it's because even the programs are programmed with a sympathy factor for those of us with these issues.

If you want to read the rest of the blog, please enter:

JUST KIDDING.

Leave me alone

Shane - I have posted a blog. Go eat some turkey jerky.