From the monthly archives:

November 2008

The Shoebox Chronicles: When It’s Time To Change, You’ve Got To Rearrange

by Mary Anne on November 25, 2008

Long before I opened the Shoebox for ideas I went directly to one of the biggest smart asses out there, Captain Dumbass, and asked him to help me out. If there are even two of you reading me today that don’t know him, I’d drop dead of shock….and if it’s true…you need to discover him in all his glory at Us and Them. Now. I’ll wait.

Back? Ok, good! Don’t you feel like your life just got a little brighter today for knowing him? I promise you, the glow never fades. EVER, NEVER.

So Captain Dumbass gave me this idea:

“You are the first lady…what is the first thing you would do?”

Which…at first I was like DUDE! My guy totally didn’t win and you know that!!! (My guy didn’t even make it out of the primary…I’ve been sad for a very long time folks.) But then I thought, well what the heck, because while I will more than likely never be a First Lady, I might very well be a First Mom. It will give me good practice for when Mr. C takes the White House in 30 years or so. So let the planning begin.

I’m guessing most of the standard stuff is already in place. China patterns, decor, a well thought out shoe closet. So I’m going to start off with the one thing I might actually enjoy with this administration, The Inaugural Ball.

First of all, I’m doing away with all this formal mess. I like a good ball gown as much as the next girl but the shoes and dancing all night? No thanks. I tend to be much more of hang on the back porch and drink with your friends kinda gal so that’s how we are going to roll with this one.

First thing to consider is the music. I’m going to do the world a favor and introduce them to Cynical Dad and let him rock his Nameless Twitter Radio Show (Tuesday nights on Twitter starting at 10 pm East Coast….add him now and join in!) directly from the South Lawn. Requests always accepted as long as they are in theme. And if you are out of theme? He will publicly shut your ass down on Twitter. Trust me, I know of which I speak. So all you foreign dignitaries and stupid celebrities that plan on showing up? You had better have your shit together before you take on Chag because he could put DJ AM to shame. He’s THAT GOOD.

Even though I cyber stalk him, I don’t really know Cynical Dad that well. I figured this was a way to take the harassment far beyond the usual boundaries of twitter and relentless commenting on his site that I normally employ. The conversation went something like this.

TSM: Hey Chag? I know I am starting to scare you what with all the constant tweets, comments and emails but I really need your help with something.
Cynical Dad: Seriously, Stiletto, you are turning into a freak, go away.
TSM: No really…help me.
Cynical Dad: Do you promise to go away if I do?
TSM: Of course! (fingers, toes, legs and eyes crossed…I’m totally not going away but he can’t see that…don’t tell him.) I’ve been asked to host the Inaugural Ball and I need a DJ. Can you step in? The theme of the party is Change. Can you spin a few songs for me?
Cynical Dad: I’m going to need you to sign this document promising to go away but after that, I’ll help. Sigh…
TSM: Sure! (PS? I totally signed it The Tennis Shoe Mom….it’ll never hold up in a court of law.)
Chag: Well, if the theme is Change, I’m gonna get the party started with Changes by David Bowie. This song might’ve been about Bowie changing his personas or a sex-change operation, but it’s still much cooler than that lame Will.I.Am song.
TSM: Well, sure, that’s a great song and all but since I’ve changed the venue to a lawn event, there will be kids there. Not sure sex change operations are appropriate.
Chag: Ok, you have a point. How about Motley Crue Time For Change? You know that one, the song that killed Motley Crue’s career (who wanted to listen to them talk about change, issues, etc. instead of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll?) could’ve kicked ass as an Obama song.
TSM: Chag, focus. FAMILY EVENT.
Chag: God you are a huge pain in the ass aren’t you?
TSM: So I’m told.
Chag: Ok, last one. How about Time to Change by The Brady Bunch? I think if Obama had used this as high campaign song, he would’ve won ALL of the electoral votes. He definitely would’ve received 100% of the Gen X vote.
TSM: Yes!

Cynical Dad? YOU ROCK. Moving on to the next part. DANCING. Sure the Obama’s can bust a move, we all know that.

But I know for a fact the rest of these uptight politicos don’t know a thing about dancing so I’m bringing Steenky back….the Stink is going to show them a thing or two about how to get their groove on, and also how to rock a totally HAWT dance face. Like this:

Steenky? You are one hot mess of a dancing fool. Also? I’d like to suggest that when and if we ever meet we avoid dancing altogether. I’m not sure I can keep up with your fierceness.

Cocktails are in order, especially for me what with all this hard work and the need I will have to wash that pesky taste of a total ass kicking the results of the election out of my mouth. For that, I went to Ciroc the Vote and found this little gem of a recipe:

THE OBAMA-TINI
1½ oz. Cîroc Vodka
¾ oz. pineapple juice
1 oz. cranberry juice
Splash of triple sec
Preparation: Shake ingredients over ice and strain into a glass.

So there you have it. One party for a Democrat planned by a charming Republican Southern Belle. Can you make it? If I’m in charge you are all invited. If this really is the Administration of Change…then surely they won’t mind all of us crashing their party right? Please RSVP below and let me know so I can buy enough booze.

This hot mess multi-media edition of The Shoebox Chronicles brought to you by Captain Dumbass, Cynical Dad and Steenky Bee. Three venerable bloggers who I plan to stalk until my fingers fall off…you should too! And don’t forget about Cynical Dad’s Nameless Twitter Radio Show tonight at 10 EST. Go add him on twitter and send in your requests, tonight’s theme is Guns N Roses…be there or be square!

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Hey Honey, Whatcha Got In The Bag?

by Mary Anne on November 23, 2008

Dorsey over at Searching For My Inner Skinny is trying to help me get to the end of this NaBloPoMo mess that I’ve gotten myself into and tagged me a in meme that was just perfect for me. She challenged me to dump out the contents of my handbag and let the whole world see what a hot mess I really am.

So Dorsey, just for you…

Here is the purse I carried to Houston on Friday. It is none other than the famed Botkier bag that caused a huge fight between me and The Man. I am still right, he is still wrong….it’s shiny and I love it.

Then I dumped it out….moments after this picture was taken, the dining room table collapsed.

I can’t be sure, but I think I even saw a small field mouse scurry out from under the debris. Knowing that no human could possibly make sense of the pile of garbage that I had dragged all around greater Houston for a day, I decided to break it down into manageable piles. Field mouse excluded.

So…from the top left corner we have:

  • Not one, but two bottles of heartburn medicine
  • Two tampons (Guess how much fun The Man is having this weekend? I get all hormonal, yell at him and then belch. Lovely.)
  • All of my travel documents including a receipt for renting the filthiest car in the entire Hertz fleet (which also smelled), Southwest Airlines tickets, my Passport (not that you need one for Houston but I managed to lose my drivers license about a month ago and have been too busy to get it replaced. Plus I look like a really cool traveler when I whip it out.), and most importantly free drink tickets.
  • Car keys. Nothing exciting there.
  • .57 cents that I was too lazy to put in my….
  • Wallet which is the next item. Ask me to dump that and I’ll kill you. I have receipts older than my children lurking in there.
  • A single Red Skittle.
  • Cell phone with cheesy fake Louis Vuitton cover.
  • Blackberry…also known as my lifeline to the world. You would have to pry this from my cold dead hands before I’d give it up.
  • The price tag from when I bought this purse in September. Because I was too lazy to throw it out.
  • Tweezers. I was getting a little fuzzy so did some plucking while sitting in traffic.
  • Gigantic sunglasses so that no one recognizes me as I dash to the plane.
  • War paint. Lancome powder and two lipsticks, one is really old and is starting to smell funny. The other is about my 25th tube of Spiced Cider which is the color I have worn for years. My life will officially end when this color is discontinued. Really.
  • As the bottle says, perfume. I don’t normally carry around plastic bottles labeled with stuff in a zip lock baggie but since I was traveling I had to put all my liquids in one bag. (Also? If you are the person who was five or so in front of me who didn’t know about TSA policies regarding liquids in carry ons and held the rest of us up while you argued over what appeared to be a gallon of baby oil? I hate you.)
  • Several packs of gum. I have a small problem with chewing gum all the time. Classy.
  • The single most disgusting bag of granola I have ever tasted.

So there you have it. My purse and a glimpse into why it may not be a good idea to travel with me if you can avoid it.

I was supposed to do some other stuff but I need to go repair the dining room table before Thanksgiving gets here plus I have a general disregard for rules as you all know. If you are stuck for topics and need something to post about, consider yourself tagged and go for it. Just be sure to let me know so I can feel better, or worse, about myself when I see what you have in your bag.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Two Headed Monster?

by Mary Anne on November 22, 2008

Or sleeping angels?

You decide.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Spin Cycle: Dinner Theatre

by Mary Anne on November 19, 2008

Yeah, I’m re-posting. Sue me. It’s not my fault this time though. Sprite’s Keeper told me to do it. And I always try to do what she tells me. So blame her. See? How I got myself off the hook by passing the blame? I feel better now. Thanks for taking the fall for me Jen.

I’m hanging with the cool kids again in the Spin Cycle and the theme this week was Favoritism. At first I was confused an anxious…I’m one of those that likes to please everyone…any type of singling out makes me break out in hives. Thankfully, she only wanted us to pick a favorite post this week, dust it off and bring it back for old times sake. Well, my blog is only three months old, so there isn’t much dust (or quality some days) but I found this one that was among the very first I ever posted and I’d be shocked if any of you (other than Beth and Steenky who I know have combed through my entire site…God love you both….and you are still here, which is shocking) have seen.

Take a read and then let me know when you might like to join the Stiletto family for dinner so you can witness this horror in person.

Dinner Theatre
Originally Published August 28, 2008

At some point dinner at our house has to stop being a three ring circus show, it really does. It’s usually not Mr. C., though sometimes it can be if we try to hard to make him eat such difficult items as guacamole, any veggie other than broccoli (let’s not even talk about what happens if he even suspects salad may appear) or any type of potato served any other way than baked whole or fried. At least I have a clearly defined set of problems with him that I can usually operate within.

Miss G, however, tends to be difficult at every turn. Unless it is Mac and Cheese or Chicken Nuggets, it really need not apply. I am not going to go into what happened last week when I dared to serve a simple baked ziti because, quite frankly, I just don’t have the strength to revisit it. Here’s how it usually goes….dinner is on the table…five minutes later, we manage to convince her through a series of threats to join us. She does, for a moment and then needs to go to the “bafroom”. Comes back, sits down, picks at food and realizes whatever doll she is wanting to dine with that evening is not present. She must go get her friend, lest they feel left out. Sits back down for a moment and toys with our emotions by picking at her food. At that point, it’s time for the talent show portion of our meal which involves either a quick cheer or a dance routine. Lucky for us, we get this for free, some people pay for dinner theatre.

We’d pay not to have it.

Yelled at again, and now becoming annoyed at us for not appreciating her amazing dinner time talent, sits down, looks hard at food, and proclaims it “DISGUSTING”. This is the point where the threats of no desert start to kick in. She argues, she insists she needs another beverage, she puts a bite in her mouth and cries and the poisonous gruel we have put in front of her begins to take effect. The Man has always lost it at this point and demands she finishes eating. The crying begins in earnest at this point at which both of her parents turn against her. At some point, she will run screaming from the table to swear she does not want to eat another thing all night and we clear the table in our attempts not to create an early onset food issue of some sort. Jokes on us though as 20 minutes later when we are not looking she sneaks upstairs with one of the following: A baggie full of Goldfish, several packages of Cheetos or….if we are really lucky….a tub of chocolate Blue Bell ice cream that we find the next day after it has tuned into chocolate soup.

Now, I have to say here, had I ever acted like this once, just once, at dinner, my mother would have quietly put down the cigarette she was smoking to enhance the flavor of the food and without batting an eye sent me sailing halfway across the room. She was just that good and I was scared shitless of her.

We obviously don’t employ the same tactics, what with the whole CPS system and all, and tonight went about our usual dinner time exercise in futility. We served the ever offensive taco and quesadilla dinner and she wasn’t having any of it. Sophie, the doll joined us, (face down on the table, ass out…really not appropriate at all) then she tried to hang her Disney iPod on her Dad’s head, and before the dancing portion of the dinner could commence, Daddy called a halt to the entire thing and ended the show before the closing credits could roll. Miss G was escorted to another room, reprimanded and told not only would we lock the pantry to avoid the late night raid, no cartoons…and….she would have to go to her room and quietly read a book instead. The screams were primal and loud, and endless. I’m a little shocked the neighbors didn’t come next door to see if we were doing some type of human sacrifice, and if they could partake in it. In the end, with a whimper and a sigh, she went to her room with a book about counting bunnies and I found her there 10 minutes later quietly reading it…with her swim goggles on.

At least know I now what it takes to get her to read a book on her own.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Notorious DAD

by Mary Anne on November 18, 2008

Have y’all seen this? Quite possibly, the best video EVER.

I totally think we need to form our own Rap group. Captain Dumbass? You could totally rock the shiz out of those chains, yo. Who’s in?

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

← Previous Entries

Next Entries →