McFlurry Matador

                                       

Mmmmmm... Vanilla ice cream. Well, it might not really be ice cream in this particular case. Nothing compares to Blue Bell; But, I'm not going to split hairs. Add broken candy mixed into it and I'm a glutton for any abuse. Who doesn't love candy? Somebody evil. So, naturally, It was an offer I couldn't refuse! And the way I see it, I love to have fun and enjoy life. So why not do it with a McFlurry?! 

It's the little things in life we need to appreciate, right? Too many people are wrapped up in their "Oh so vital" lives to sit back and scoop up a little dose of happiness with friends and family. And ice cream. Or their too busy getting pussy for the first time to have any kind of working brain tissue. And ice cream. And frankly, what's wrong with a little reversion to being a little kid, with ice cream, enjoying scoops of joy! So, after many selfies and photo shoots with my niece with our creamy icicles... I digress to behaving like an annoying twelve year old girl, running around the house all hopped up on an overdose of sugar-filled glucose. I'm pretty sure I was walking on the ceiling. Or stomping angry mushrooms. Like, Super Mario. Boing. Boing. Boing. Jumping up to hit bricks with my big head. It was a coffee high I've never had before. Because it wasn't coffee. It was ice cream. It was kid crack. I was the Matador McFlurry master. The squirrels fell for it every time. There was no stopping my childish antics. There wasn't. It involved handstands. You couldn't have stopped me either. What do you know about toilet paper and hoses? I dare you. Cooking oil on a windshield. Don't cry, it comes off. As I said, I was unstoppable. Why was I using the balcony as a balance beam? Give me McFlurry or give me death! Somebody stop me. Yeah right. I've already dug out the spare from the freezer... 

Plane-Sanity

Not one. But two plane delays. But I will miss you anyway Ohio. Sitting in Chicago for two hours waiting for the flight. The lady on the overhead microphone said that the crew is here... They're just in the air. Hold on... They're here? Or they are in the air? What does that mean exactly? Because, unless I forgot I speak English, I'm hearing that the aforementioned crew is still not here at all. There's kids laying all over the airport floors. Stop. Rewind. Let me rewrite that... There are kids laying all over the Chicago airport floors; But, they aren't alone... So are their parents. Hey guys, guess what? You're not at home yet. Don't get comfortable... And sidebar, the floor is dirty. And nasty. And not even a little bit.... Kind of a lot a bit. Oh and I've become immune to your child's murderous screams. Thank you for that. Why are these monsters awake anyway? It is midnight. And last one I checked Chicago was coined "The Windy City," not "The City That Never Sleeps." Yes, I also started singing the Frank Sinatra's unofficial song of New York also. There is a reason I like to fly red eye people. Sleepy time airtime. Catch up in some zzzz's I rarely get. Emptier flights. Because running up and down the isle without a bra on a full flight will get you marshaled. When you bring your little bastards on board (on said red eye flight) they should have dances d sugar plums all in their heads. Noiseless. Seen and not heard. Am I being too harsh? Maybe I don't like children as much as I'd previously thought. Well, even if I am.. Suck it. They're terrorizing everyone's ear space: and literal space. And dirty floor space. Where does this one random child in particular keep popping up from? Stop grabbing for my son's pillow pet. Like rabid dogs around here. Where's the mother? Probably sneaking a drink at the sky lounge. Whore. Like I should be... Meeting handsome strangers that look like romance book models and speak like intellectual man-delicious corporate speak. Didn't you know? I'm multi-lingual ...and man-delicious corporate speak will melt me every time. Did that kid just throw his mom's neck pillow on the floor? And laugh? Oh. My. God. I would strangle that child. Or offer the TSA agent some side dough to do it. Kidding... Maybe. Somehow I'd find it astonishing If they were an avid hand-washing family either. Oh, great... Nice. She laughed along. Listen lady, you're supposed to be the matriarch of your herd. Don't go crying to anyone when you have hepatitis later. 

A voice from above emerges to let us know that our crew has arrived. Ah, finally. I can celebrate. We apologize for the inconvenience and delay of your flight. We are now legal to get you all in the air now. There was no crew actually scheduled to fly your plane this early morning. What an you guys think I make tho stuff up. There's no way on the planet could I have come up with this scenario. And I probably should not celebrate anymore. Welcome to sketchy town USA. Thanks for flying with us, where your bags are packed and we have a janitor flying your airlines. Although, I'd be willin to forgive the airline of choice if we are offered free drinks for our...  "inconvenience." Nope. What if I give you a free signed poster? No. A sticker with my face on it? No thanks. Oh gotcha. Just be happy your getting on a flight with pilots actually there to fly it. 

Famiglia Friday

Happy Friday! Last night at home before I get back to the fast lane. It's a big family hubbub and kids are wrecking the yard with bad mitten rackets, while another kid shows off her tomato garden. Wow. Those are probably the best tomatoes, EVER. How did you... They are so tasty and juicy. Ummm, nevermind, I'm not growing any veggies. No green thumb here.

So... me? I'm just sitting back and taking it all in. Drinking my ginger ale and watching the lightening bugs. Or fireflies. I love lightening bugs. I remember chasing them around the yard at dusk when I was younger. And... Uh, now. (I'm so mature... And you love it) Catching them in a large mason jar, with holes poked in the top. What... I'm not a monster. You've got to let them breathe, you know. Gazing endlessly at them, glowing like mini night lights. It gets pitch dark out in the countryside. I need a lightening bug, or three. Make fun of me for being scared of the dark and I'll hurt you. Ok, I'm not really afraid of the dark. But, that's because I have my baby light bugs to light the way. Ta-Da! 

While every one else is either on the porch or playing bocce ball in the yard. Yes, that is a real game. Old people usually play. Or Italians. Usually old Italians. Ah... I enjoy watching them argue over the rules. That keep changing. But, no one wants to look them up. And be wrong. And as I attempt to reiterate the rules through google, I'm being cast aside for being just a kid playing on her damn phone. Kids these days. I remember the days we had to write letters to our friends. Or look up facts in encyclopedias. Wait. I'm not a child... No guys, listen, you can look up information on the Internet. On your phone. Without lugging around an entire set of reference books. Get lost kid. Go chase your bugs. Oh, forget it... Enjoy your weekend everybody! 

Grappling Granny

If I thought I was going to be chasing around little old ladies this week, I would have laughed. Awakened from my -never ending- peaceful slumber by the sounds of a house phone... Yes, you read correctly, out here folks still have landlines. My mother volunteers at an old folks home so she gets phone calls, constantly, starting at 6:00 a.m. And ending somewhere around the tune of 11:00 p.m. These grannies call incessantly. Did I take my pills? I don't know, did you? Count the pills in your pill box. I organized them for you -by day. Well, I'm confused and I don't know which box is for today. You jumbled your pills? I don't know. My goodness. You don't need a water pill. Yes I did. Why did you take that? I don't know. My ankles are swollen. They're puffy because you took an extra pill you didn't need. I'll be there tomorrow to check on you. Do not take anything except what I put in the box. Or don't. Because you jumbled them. Just take the one high blood pressure pill. (I swear if I get this bonkers when I'm old, someone just put me down like old nag.) this isn't that entertaining. Yes it is, it's hysterical actually. This isn't to knock our elderly. They've lived amazing lives and have great stories to tell. Funny thing is, because they are being given so many damn medications, it affects their memory (and memories) so these little old chassis play games with people. It's like they're 86 year old children. 

One afternoon, while on my visit, one little mumsy calls and says, I'm sick. I need to go to the hospital. No, you don't. It's just a stomachache from mixing up your pills. Well, I'm sick and I'm calling the ambulance. She hangs up. My matriarch says, let's get into the car and go. So we stop at her building. No hullaboo outside... Grand lady, doesn't answer. We drive to the hospital. Ding dong. No one by that name has checked in. Seriously? We go back to her building and decide we need another plan of action. My mom goes up and down the stairwell while I keep watch at the elevator. When she returns she says, I've been calling and no answer. You go up the stairs and I'll go up the elevator. This way she can't try to sneak out. Ok. Seven floors. Hop scotching mum. No big deal. I got this. So, I start my hike up the stairs and no granny. I meet up in the hall on the seventh floor with my mother. No old broad. As she puts her phone away she states that granny is in her apartment. Ah, gotcha now. How do you know? The line is ringing and then it's a busy signal. We go inside and granny is like hello. Whatcha doin. All calm and rational. Like we haven't been hunting her down all day with our proverbial muskets. Ha! What?! We've been all over Ohio looking for you woman! Oh ok says granny. What for? I've been here all day. I want to jump off her balcony. Do you want to play aggravation? F*** it. Sure. 

Munchie Monster

First I snacked on some fruit. Healthy option. Wait out the cravings. Good job Rita. I'm only snacking out of boredom. I'm so bored. And then it happens... Cinnamon streusel cakes.  So delicious. Bad Rita. Combos, pretzel pizza flavored. I love those with a side of Rockstar Energy Drinks.  I hate myself. Ugh. Really bad, Rita. Now I feel bloated. Ok, but I still want to eat. I'm a bottomless pit and now I'm hyper. Rice Chex. They're gluten free. What's that going to hurt? I only need to worry about the hidden sugars here, right? After half a box... Ok, it was almost the whole crate. But, in my defense, it was already opened and at least one bowl was missing from it. I need an empty calorie filler. Something without calories and fills me up so I don't keep gobbling up everything in sight. I grab some Peppermint tea. Then, chamomile. My theory is, if I fall asleep from the dozing effects of the chamomile... Maybe I will stop this crazy snack attack Madness. I don't stop. 

Strap on the feed bag. I turned on the oven and baked up some lil ceasars breadsticks kit from the treasure chest of snackery. I love frozen discovery finds. I'm the Bear Grylls of grocery! I've never seen these before. I don't think we can get the on the west coast! At least I've never seen them. Either way, I'm going in on these. Lil Ceasars are the breadstick kings -in my opinion- and now there's a do-it-yourself kit? Holy buttery goodness batman?! 

Fifteen minutes and a receptacle of Parmesan bread later... I'm reaching for my coconut coated cashews. Yum. Healthy. This will do it... Ugh. These taste healthy. And they're not satisfying my cravings. Skinny Girl Sweet Thai Chili Corn Chips. Eh... I emptied that bag without nary a complaint. And I can toss back that whole bag, just because they're deemed healthy. Coconut Fudge and Caramel Cookies. Fine. You look tempting. Just a nibble. Well... They look like the Girl Scout cookies we all know and love. Oh and half a container later my teeth hurt and I'm still looking for another snack to fulfill my destiny. Ah! Bugles. Nope. Yes. I consume that. Look, that pouch is the size of a small book. And there was literally, three bugles in the whole sack. Chips ahoy. Nope. Yep. I did that. Pirouettes. What was there... Like, five, in THAT canister? I feel like I'm going to implode from the inside out. And the sugar crash.  Thats about to over power me. Fight it. Ooo... Brie cheese and crackers. Chow down. Alright, I've got to stop this munchie monster inside of me and go take a run. The deafening cries of the strawberry shortcake never had a chance. Ok, snap out of it. Get off my wide load and exercise. 

...Right after I take a nap.

Narcolepsy knock knock

Sleep. I lack it. Sleep helps us grow. I'm still growing? Sleep helps our bodies heal. Did I overpower a mountain lion last night? Sleep helps our bodies regenerate. Lion tamer extraordinaire. We need it. And I just don't get much of it. The wheels on my bus go round and round. Well, what I mean is, the sand man, rarely visits me. Knock. Knock. Hello? 

But, if you plop my butt down, in a lost city, who's claim to fame is a hot shoppe that no one past county lines has ever heard of? Then, suddenly, I'm convinced I could be diagnosed as narcoleptic. Hello, small town. Pass me a hot dog. On second thought, don't. Vegetarian. Yes, I'm back. Snoring away. Day in. Day out. I'm used to a go, go, go kind of hustle and here I am, forced by the hand of boredom, to do this thing called... Relax. This will be interesting. I can't believe people can just hang out like this. How do you know where the line from relax to narcolepsy actually is anyway? Ooo... Cream sticks. Oh? Never heard of those? More on that on another post. Wink. Wink. Focus. Where's the dark roast coffee around here? Strong. Dark. Awake roast. I have No deadlines this week? I have time off? What the f*** am I going to do? Time for another siesta. 

Every day... As much as I'm enjoying it, I must say, the mundane existence of my vacation... is driving me to sleep. And snore. Incessantly. Snoozing my time off, as the days pass by. Including the strange dream I had with me taking a catnap in a bath tub while a woman walked by wearing my favorite sunglasses. Thieving wench. I don't know... But, I am still curiously annoyed how she got my shades. Stupid dream thief.  And I'm pretty sure before I woke up she was going to trade them for some whiskey and candy bar. Maybe if I doze a little longer, Prince Charming will creep up on me, land a smooch on my noggin... 

Or not. 

All I realize, as I write this morning's post, is that even though I've double tablespooned (not a real word) the medium roast coffee in the pantry to the filter of the coffee pot. It seems from carafe to cup... It still lacks it's oomph to get me going this a.m. Apparently double scooping does NOT equate a medium roast bag of ground beans to a dark roast. Lesson learned. Well, most likely not, I'm pretty sure I'll try this again tomorrow. With a scoop-a-rama mamma jama. Zzzzz.... 

Laxidasacle Lawmower

Apparently, with nothing to do, folks out here mow their grass. Incessantly. Mom is trying to convince me to get outside and mow her yard... Um. I'm good. I think I hear a cricket under the bed that I need to fish out. Thanks though. Oh, it's been three days? Oh wow, call the lawn mower authorities because I'm refusing. Don't get me wrong, I'm a work horse. I will work before I sleep or eat. That's totally how I roll. That being said, who the hell mows their yard... every three days?! In humidity. Sweating. With turf particles sticking to my legs. Is it me or does that sound ridiculous? I'll do many things to get my sweat on; but, somehow this just doesn't suit my fancy. Hire a landscaper. I can guarantee you, the scenery doctor would rather enjoy the hike upward in his pay. 

So then I'm informed that my moms neighbor mows his grassy knoll every other day. What?! That's right. I didn't stutter. And neither did she. Every. Other. Day. Ok, I get it... We are in the middle of country-no -where and it moves at a much slower pace. People walk around here. Or drive. Or they sit on their porches, creepily, eyeballing me as I have been running a few miles each day. Clearly, I've become the freak of nature -new girl in town, who's not really new- who does this strange act of exercise, that the natives haven't yet figured out who I am. Or was. Or who's daughter, of which, I belong. Even though I was born here... Did some high school... Have a couple exboyfriends... 

But either way, I'm still not hopping on top of the motorized panoramic yard trimmer... I don't care if it has a steering wheel or not. Although the cup holder looks fun...