Birthday Wrap-Up and Other Randomosity

So, I’m sure you are all wondering, after Monday’s post, “what horrible thing occurred this year during Misty’s birthday that ruined the day for her completely?”  You were wondering that, right?  In fact, you’ve been up nights, tossing and turning, sleepless with worry about it since reading my blog on Monday, right?  RIGHT?

Ok, fine.  I’m sure you haven’t.  That is just silly, really.

But, if you really have been wondering how the ole birthday went, I have compiled a list of good and bad things that occurred on or related to my birthday.  The good news is that the list of good far outweighs the list of bad.

THE GOOD:

The first very awesome things that occurred were related to a few very select and wonderful people that I have been fortunate enough to have in my lives these last few months.  They are fellow bloggers.  And I consider them very real friends, even though I have only actually met one, and I have never even had a spoken conversation with one of the others.  Still, they are awesome and they remembered my birthday and sent me very thoughtful reminders of why I love them so much.

First was this fantastic card from Thoughtsy of Thoughts Appear:

Some may call it Stalking . . .

. . . I call it Extreme Love Research.

Next we have Johi’s presents.  Johi, of Confessions of a Cornfed Girl, sent me some awesome gifts, all creatively and lovingly wrapped:

Then there was the card . . . the envelope was probably the best part:

Yeah, pretty much anyone who refers to me as Brilliant and Enchanting is squarely and eternally in my good graces!  Oh, but the card itself . . . brilliant:

Who you calling a ho, ho?  Well, then again . . . fine.  You got me.  :)

Wanna see the gifts?  They are awesomesauce.  Prepare yourself . . .

Those things could not be more perfect if they were made specifically for me.  And how on earth did she know how much I love NOT camping?  It’s like, my favoritest thing.  Except for these gifts.  Love them.  So so much.  Thank you, Johi!!  You are the best, my SW.  :)

Next we have the package I received from the woman who completes our sister wife trifecta of awesome . . . Jen of Jen e sais quoi.

I don’t know how many times I’ve gotta tell those girls, though . . . I AM NOT A BLOND!!  Cute card, though.  :)

This is from her local college, PSU (I think), so I can represent P-town all the way over on the East side.

I told Jen that I DO NOT HAVE A PROBLEM, and then I grabbed my glass of wine and used one of these things to wipe up the excess booze dripping off my chin from drinking from the glass too damn fast.

Love you, Jen.  Thanks for the gifts, but much more importantly, thank you for being my friend.

And now onto non-blogging friends . . . first, I went to lunch with a friend of mine from high school, and although the lunch was not technically for my birthday, she did give me a present while there.  It is full of awesome:

We used to drive people nuts when they would watch Say Anything with us by quoting Every. Single. Line.  Yeah, we were pretty much assholes.  We were teenagers, what can I say.  But we loved us some John Cusack.  I haven’t seen this movie in forever, and according to her it was impossible to find because she had been searching for it for a while, and when she finally came across it in some discount bin somewhere, she bought two.  One for herself, and one for the other known Cusack lover in her life.  Me.  It was really very sweet of her to think of me.

Another friend of mine is actually a friend from work.  She used to work with me full time, but left last year to stay home with her kids.  She does, however, still come in once a week to work.  So, this past week when she came in to work, she brought me a birthday card:

I AM the Birthday Queen!!

Although, what's up with the jinx, chica?

Then . . . she even took me out to lunch for my birthday!!  Can you believe it?  I have never ever been taken out for my birthday from anyone from work.  Although I do consider her an actual friend, and not just a work friend.

And speaking of work . . . I’m sure you all are curious if the work peeps ignored me as they normally do.  And the answer to that is . . . no, they did not.  I actually got a card!!  Granted, it was my friend who remembered and brought in that card to pass around, but it was in fact passed around and signed by almost everyone.  A card.  From work people.  Wow.  So, that’s how that feels.

Not just that, but my secretary got me a present.  An absolutely beautiful cashmere scarf and an iPad cover.  So sweet!

Plus, she told this other very sweet lady that it was my birthday (she isn’t in my office, but works with the company we work with) and she came in to wish me a happy birthday.  Then she said she was gonna sing to me, and did I want the long or short version . . . I picked short, of course.  She then proceeded to get on her knees and sing to me.  So cute.

But wait!  There’s more . . . after lunch, my secretary, another colleague and I ran downstairs to get a coffee, and my colleague actually paid for my latte.  For my birthday.  Can you believe it?  Not only that, but I also got a “birthday high five” from the barista, followed by that barista forcing another barista (who was on his lunch break, poor guy) to actually sing Happy Birthday to me.  They even made him “put on the hat” whilst singing.  It was quite a day.  I felt very festive.

Thanks, Jason!!

Once I was done with work on Friday, there was nothing left to do but pack and get ready to leave for AC the next morning.  As I was getting ready to go, blowdrying my hair and such, the hubs comes in and asks if I want coffee.  Of course I want coffee!!  Have you met me??  So, he proceeds to go downstairs and make coffee and bring me a cup, expertly prepared exactly as I like it.  This might be the first time in our 15 years together that he actually brought me a cup of coffee.  Well played, sir.  Well played.   :)

Nothing much happened in AC, unless you count losing all our freaking money . . . but we did have a couple nice dinners, I got to relax quite a bit, we watched a couple movies (one was just meh, one was hysterical), I got room service for breakfast on my birthday, plus the hubs ran down to the Starbucks in the casino and got me a big ole latte.  Oh, and then when I came home, the boys surprised me by making a big banner that said “Happy Birthday” and putting balloons up all over the house.  Plus, I got two cakes:

You know you’re jealous.  I also got presents:

The hubs bought me this at the casino after I saw it in the gift shop and wanted it.  How much of a keeper is he?  Problem = it doesn’t work.  Yeah, the keeper probably should have looked to see if that little second hand was moving before purchasing.  Next time.

Oh, and he also got me this:

Ha ha, hubs.

Yes, the hubs is a super funny guy.  Yep, I get it.  I’m mean and cranky.  And not a morning person.  Ironic t-shirt for the win!  Oh, did I mention it’s my birthday and you’re supposed to be nice to me???  Guess he missed that memo.

But then again, he also got me this:

That’s right, bitches . . . IMMA GOING TO BLOGHER!!  Can I get a whoop whoop??  Holla.  :)

So, basically, no tragedies, which is really all I can ask for.  There were a few things that put a bit of a damper on the birthday, but nothing horrendous, so I call it a win.  Oh, what are those things?  Ok, fine.  Here ya go:

THE BAD:

1.  My parents’ birthday card:

What is this twee bullshit?  I mean, seriously . . . it’s like they have never even met me!  “Sing a song, hope a hope, dream a dream?”  Gah.  Poorly played, ‘rents.  Bad form.

2.  A little after midnight on my actual birthday morning, I tried to go to bed.  I left the hubs downstairs in the casino and headed up to the room.  Three and a half hours later I was texting him asking him to bring me up some Tums.  I absolutely could not sleep (the bed was not comfortable at all!) and I had such a bad case of heartburn, I thought I was pregnant again.  I eventually drifted off a little before 5, only to have to get up around 8:30 so we could get ready to leave that day.  So, basically, the entire day I felt kind of hung over from the lack of sleep and was in a sort of delirium the whole day.  Thank god for that night when I got to sleep in my own heavenly bed!

3.  The hubs took every opportunity during the day of my birth to remind me that I was old . . .  “I never thought I’d be married to a thirty-seven year old! “(What, you thought you would have killed me off by now?), “I just think of it like I’m married to an 18 and 19 year old combined,” “. . . in your younger days” (yes, he actually uttered this phrase on my birthday), and at one point we heard that Hungry Eyes song and he remarked, “you have hungry thighs” (yep, old and fat, now), and his parting shot:  “So, do you feel any wiser?”  I would have killed him if I had the energy, but I was exhausted so I just ignored him for the most part.  I’m keeping a tally though, don’t think I’m not.  Bastard.

Ok, enough of all that.  I think this might just be the longest post in blogging history.  But there’s more folks.  This is for you, though!!  Well, one of you anyway . . .

Remember this?

THE MISTY’S LAWS GIVEAWAY!!!

Yep, the chocolate bar that I promised I was giving away all those many weeks ago.  Well, this is the day.  I have devised a totally fair and accurate way of picking the winner.  Drawing a name from a hat.  And lest you think this isn’t a scientifically sound way to determine said winner, I brought in the big guns.  My son:

See?  Completely valid.  You wouldn’t question the veracity of a 6 year old, would you?  For shame!

Anyway, without further ado . . . the winner is:

MANDI!!!

Oh Mandiiiiii, well you came and you rhymed without taking, and I sent you some candy, Oh oh Mandi!!  (yeah, that’s the best I can do, I ain’t no poet!).

So, congrats to Mandi!  Please email your address to me so I can send off your chocolate bar.  I hope it is muy delicioso, mi amiga.

Didn’t win?  Feel dejected?  Wonder how you could possibly go on without that amazing candy bar?  Well, buck up camper!  There is more . . .

Next up . . .

Magnet

And . . .

Mints or gum . . . can't remember which.

That’s right, bitches . . . TWO ITEMS!!  I’m a giver, what can I say.  Want them?  You know the drill:

1.  Follow my blog.

2.  Like me on Facebook.

3.  If you have done those things already, leave a comment if you have never done so (something good, not just “hi, I’m commenting”).

4.  If you have done all of those already, do something creative in the comments.  Now many of you already did this before in the previous post . . .  This time, how about a bedtime story?  A story about your favorite or least favorite birthday?  You can still rhyme or rap if you wanna.  Just do something good and you will get credit.  Be creative, peeps!!

I will draw the winner in a couple weeks.  I have more to come as well, so stay tuned.  :)

Ok, longest post in the entire world is now officially DONE.  Phew!

Ghosts of Birthdays Past

IT’S MA BIRTHDAY, BITCHES!!!!

Happy Birthday to MEEEE . . .

Happy Birthday to MEEEE . . .

Happy Birthday dear Misty . . .

Happy Birthday to MEEEEEEEEEE!!!

Hey there.  I don’t know if I mentioned it, but today is my birthday.  Pretty sure I haven’t brought this up previously.  Just thought you might like to know.

Now, I’m not sure how your birthdays usually go down, but I have had some pretty crappy birthdays.  In fact, some so bad that I really don’t look forward to my birthday any more.  Instead, I always anticipate, with great trepidation, what type of ridiculousness will occur each year.

I am so hoping that I will skip whatever fate has scheduled for me this year.  This past year has been a rough one and I think I’m done with all that, thank you very much!  Move along, karma.  I’m done being your bitch.

Now, I can hear you out there.  I hear you thinking, “Oh please, don’t be so damn dramatic.  Everybody’s birthday sort of sucks.  Nobody likes getting older.  Nobody likes birthdays.”  Well, lest you think I’m just making up this shit, I present to you the below examples of Misty’s tragic birthdays, a journey through the years.  Buckle in folks.  This ain’t pretty . . .

SIXTEEN:

On my sixteenth birthday, I was your typical mouthy, disrespectful handful of teenaged girl.  My poor parents.  But on the evening of my birthday, I was standing at the stove, cooking up something for my dinner and talking back to my mom (natch).  Well, apparently I mouthed off one too many times and my mom had enough of my attitude.  I don’t remember what I said, but something sparked her to turn to violence.  She backhanded me across the face.  Wearing about 12 big sharp rings.  It hurt like a bitch.  It completely shocked me.  And it wasn’t exactly what I expected to get as my birthday present from my mom.

MORAL:  If you are gonna be a little bitch on your birthday, make sure your mom has taken off her jewelry for the night.

SIXTEEN – PARTY EDITION:

I do not like surprises.  That is not to say that I need to know everything that ever happens at all times, nor do I think a lovely surprise gift is a bad thing.  But, when it comes to parties, do not ever throw me a surprise party.  Ever.  I’m pretty sure that my abhorrence of surprise parties stemmed from my sixteenth birthday party.  It was a surprise party thrown by my mom.  It was not a good idea.  I walked into my house, about a week prior to my actual birthday, dressed all sloppily from running errands, and was surprised to find a bunch of people I went to high school with, standing in my kitchen.  The real surprise was the fact that mostly, these were not my friends.  See, I was a pretty big dork in high school and my mom actually let my “best friend,” who was very popular, invite everyone.  So, she picked people she thought I was friends with and people she was friends with.  Anyway, one of my biggest memories from that night was sitting on my steps crying and later cringing when my mom tried to get these people who were barely tolerating being there to play “party games.”  (In case you were wondering, I also loathe any type of party game).  It was a rough night.  Not a fond memory.

MORAL:  Don’t throw me any fucking surprise parties!

TWENTY-ONE:

I was in college and dating a guy that I had a very on again, off again relationship with.  We pretty much hated each other because we both thought we were better than the other.  I was correct.  Anyway, the weekend before my birthday, he decided to go home for the weekend instead of spending time with me, which totally pissed me off.  Not my proudest moment, but in my anger and in his absence, I hooked up with a guy, who unfortunately gave me a hickey on my neck.  So, when the boyfriend came back, on the evening before my birthday, we were hanging out in my room, watching a movie.  I was wearing a turtleneck (as you do when you are trying to hide a hickey).  Then, right around midnight, at the very beginning of my birthday, he saw the hickey.  And stormed out of my room.  So at the very start of my birthday, my boyfriend broke up with me.  (I know what you’re probably thinking:  I cheated on him, I deserved it.  Totally fair.  But still . . . being broken up with on your birthday is pretty rough.  And to be even more fair, he had cheated on me a bunch of times prior to that.  Hence the on/off again part).

MORAL:  Obviously don’t cheat on your boyfriend.  Even if he is an asshole.  Either that or wear a taller turtleneck.

TWENTY-TWO:

I was newly dating my now-hubs.  We went away to Orlando for my birthday on our first ever trip together.  On the evening of my birthday, I had a bit too much to drink.  So, at the end of the night, I started getting emotional because I was all drunky.  I was crying and telling this new boyfriend of mine who had very sweetly taken me away on a trip for my birthday and just given me a beautiful ruby and diamond bracelet (can you say keeper?), that I was damaged goods and he really shouldn’t be with me.  Granted, I was drunk, but I was also being honest. I had super low self-esteem and my previous experience with boyfriends consisted of the extravagance of a trip to Taco Bell and splurging on a chalupa, so this was a bit out of my comfort zone.  It scared me, to be honest.  Luckily, he just laughed at my drunk ass and eventually married me.  I tell him all the time that I gave him fair warning and that he had his chance to run at that point.  Silly boy.

MORAL:  The man shoulda listened when he had the chance.

TWENTY-EIGHT:

After being married for a mere 4 months, my new husband was called up to go overseas for the entirety of February, missing both Valentine’s Day (not a big deal) and my birthday (more of an issue).  Add that to the fact that this was the year that we had a massive snow storm and I was snowed in my house for a full week all by myself about a week before my birthday.  By the time my lonely birthday rolled around, I was pretty much stir crazy from the white out, so yeah, that was not a fun one.

MORAL:  Live somewhere warmer.

LAST YEAR:

My family and I were staying with my parents in Florida.  Early on the morning of my birthday we were awoken by a phone call.  My father-in-law was calling my husband.  He was staying at home to take care of the house and our dogs.  He was calling to report that one of our dogs had passed away.  She was an older dog and had been ailing for a while, but had recently seemed to be better.  Two days after we left for vacation, she fell asleep and never woke up.  It was extremely sad and cast a pall upon the rest of the day.  Hell, the rest of the week, month and year to be honest.  Although I tried to rally for my kids because we did not want to tell them until the vacation was over, but I just couldn’t lift the sadness from my heart.  It was a very bad birthday.

MORAL:  Yeah, I got nothing for this one . . .

EVERY BIRTHDAY FOR THE PAST TEN YEARS:

As I have mentioned before, I always give a birthday card to everyone in my office (along with the stupid party planning I do for all the other office events).  I buy a card, I pass around the card for everyone in the office to sign, and I make sure the person gets their card on or around their birthday.  It is just something I do.  It’s not a big deal, but I think it is a thoughtful gesture from people that work with you and see you more than your family a lot of the time.  Now, you would think that people would be grateful for this gesture.  That maybe just one person in the office would think to return the favor to the person who does this all year long for everyone else’s birthday in the entire office, right?  You would be seriously wrong.  Except for last year when I practically begged/threatened my two friends/colleagues to get me a mother loving card for my damn birthday (and they did) I have never gotten a card at work.  And those two friends?  Quit last year to be stay-at-home moms.  Yeah, I’m not holding out much hope for this year.  We shall see.

MORAL:  Get a new freaking job!!

Ok, enough bitching about my sucktastic birthdays of yore.  On to the celebrating . . .

So . . . today is my birthday.  I am currently in Atlantic City.  Hopefully, nothing tragic will occur today.  I will just have some fun away with the hubs, drive home and see my kids, probably get some chinese food for dinner, maybe have a cake.  That’s really all I ask.  Can you work with me on this one, karma?  How ’bout taking just one day off from being a bitch, k?  I’ll give you some cake.  Do we have a deal?  Awesome.

Weekly Whacked: Where Y’all Take Over

Alright.  As I promised, this is the week I turn this shiz over to y’all.  I have received a few glorious submissions from you home viewers out there, and this is where I will share that fuckery with the world (the world = all 12 people who read my blog, so . . . yeah).

Our first submission is from the one, the only, Vesta Vayne, of The Cowardly Feminist:

I’m finding the fact that this douchehound, a Lamborghini owner who is proudly professing to the world his love of being the dominant sexual partner, being dealt a healthy dose of karmic comeuppance is highly satisfying.  You?

Our next submission is from the always on the ball, Jana of Shut the Front Door.  Jana has provided a few notable entries:

According to Jana, this one was driven by a large, black, dreadlocked man . . . who apparently enjoys spicy titties?

This might be one of my favorite submissions.   I asked Jana if they offered her a cigarette at least after that transaction, but sadly they did not.  And now she feels a little dirty.

Speaking of inserting things into slots . . . apparently this is pink caulk.  Who knew?

Jana found Waldo.  He’s right up there.  So all the rest of you can stop looking now.

And our final submission from Jana . . . tattooed lesbian midget cupping the breasts of twins.  Yep, that’s what I said.

Next we have Anne, from Pretty Grievances, and her pictures of her time at Disney.

I’m not really sure what is happening here.  I’m guessing she’s pregnant, but I’m not really understanding this mini-skirt/flip-flop thing happening on the bottom half.  Bizzaro.

Vanilla???  Is that you???  Oh, sorry.  I don’t wanna ruin the whole incognito thing you’ve got going there.  Carry on . . .

Do you know what my favorite part of this picture is?  The knee high suede boots with stockings and shorts?  Nope.  The Leopard print fanny pack?  Nah.  The “I’m trying to be all Joey Ramone punk, but am actually coming off as tres tragic” look going on there?  Not even close.  My favorite part of this picture is that captured in the shot are the faces of the people who are walking by these 2, and the expressions on their faces.  Their reaction says “what the hell is going on with them?” even from the front, which we cannot see, so that means that these two were a 360 degree mess!!  Love it.

Next we have Mandi, from Atypically Relevant.  Mandi went all out, y’all.  She sent me some good ones, even one of the inside of her medicine cabinet . . .

Close up:

She always knows by the scarred looks on her guests faces when they exit the bathroom if they have been snooping through her cabinets.

An accordion playing Gnome.  You know, as you run across all the time . . . if you are Mandi at least.

This next one seems to be catching a few wily characters in the act:

Naughty kitties!!  They seem to be taking a page out of Buddy the Elf’s playbook.  Don’t know Buddy?  Well . . . educate yourself!

These next few were taken at some sort of festival.  I’m thinking that gaming was a component . . .

Walking around as Sonic the Hedgehog.  As you do.

Fievel backpack!!!  I want.  But, I have no idea what is hanging off his ass, nor how many stuffed animals that chick to the right has encasing her body.  Don’t think I didn’t notice the chick in the knee high silver space boots and red teeny tiny bikini bottoms either.  This pic has it all!

Brobee!!  These two have got to be hot.  I am imagining a summer festival, and they are all decked out in some sort of blanket material.  And there again . . . those things hanging off their asses.  What the hell is all that crap, Mandi??

I’m not sure why she even bothered putting anything on to go to this festival.  Naked would have just been easier.  And less pornographic.

I am confused.  I thought the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders were supposed to be hot and sexy babes.  Somehow this one must have slipped through.

This, in the immortal words of Mandi, is a midget firefighter mullet.  Quite the catch, Mandi.  Good job, girl!

And speaking of mullets . . . I received one photo from Ashley Zielke, no blog mentioned.  But oh, it was a good one . . .

That is one serious mullet!  Talk about business up front and party in the back.  That is a 3 day kegger going on back there.  Good job, Ash!! 

Next we have the wonderful and hilarious Bill from The Authentic Life.  Bill most recently vacationed in West Hollywood with his husband, and whilst there they visited a few venues where they saw the saddest of unclothed specimens just walking around.  Oh, and drag queens:

That is one scary ass drag queen . . . that apparently got run over on hershim’s left arm.  I do appreciate the homage to the Baltimore hon hairdo, though.

The next pictures are difficult to look at.  Please only continue viewing if you are prepared to see the most depraved deprived of lost souls.  These poor boys are so desperate despondant that they cannot afford proper clothing and must dance beg wait for the kindness of strange men strangers to help them in their plight.

Luckily Bill is one such magnanimous soul and he benevolently gave until it hurt.  Well, at least until he ran out of ones.

And Bill so helpfully entitled this one for me . . . Big Balls.  Yeah, it pretty much writes itself, folks.

Thank you all for your submissions.  I hope you had as much fun stalking your prey as I did receiving the pics.  Fun times!!

Convos with the Kiddos

Me:  You’re a good kid, you know that?

6:  Yes, mom.

Me:  How do you know?

6:  You tell me all the time!

Oh, oops.  :)

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Driving along, 6 views a golf course that we are driving by:

Wow, that golf place must be really good.  It has TWO port-a-potty’s!

Yeah, I’m not touching that one.

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6:  I wish we had something we could just throw up on the windows to make it dark in here like a movie theater.

Me:  Then we would watch a movie?

6:  Or play Mother Knows Best.

(Anyone with kids and/or who has seen Tangled a bajillionty times, will get the hilariousness of this statement).

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He had a couple days off for teacher conferences and then President’s Day . . . .

Me:  (jokingly)  Are you going to miss going to school for the next couple days?

6:  I’m going to miss math class.

Me:  Um, O-Kay?

(I love my little geek!).

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For V-day, he made me a couple things.  They are the sweetest and most adorable.  Thought I’d share:

TP Butterfly.

And then this . . . the boy knows how much I love free stuff!

Three Free Hugs!!

I love it when I don’t have to pay for his affection.  And I get three opportunities for hugging without compensation.  Yay!!  :)

(He actually just asked why I haven’t used them yet, and I told him I was saving them for when I really needed a hug.  So then he tells me that he is going to give them right back when I use them.  So that means . . . never-ending hugs, y’all!!  I am totally saving these for his teenage years!).

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My 3 year old apparently has big plans for his next year of life:

When I turn 4 . . .I’m going to go to bed later, eat hot dogs, handle sharp things . . .

Your brother didn’t handle sharp things when he was 4.

But I will be bigger then.  And big people handle sharp things.  Like you handled the sharp thing when we got the tree.

Here is Exhibit A of my 3 year old son actually holding “the sharp thing” when we got our tree:


Yeah, we only gave him this because the machete was a bit dull.  Mom of the year, right here.

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Please note that this is the last day for submissions from all of you of any pictures you have to contribute to the weekly whacked.  If you have them and just haven’t gotten them to me, today is the day.  If you haven’t caught anything yet but are desperate to be included, get on out there and start shooting!  Then get them to me by the end of the day (EST).  (Oh, and THIS MEANS YOU, JEN!!  Get me something whickety whacked, P-town style, stat!).  Happy hunting to all!

Three is a Magic Number

Well, well, well.  I’m not sure if it’s because my birthday is coming up (nah, my birthdays always suck), because I am such a kind and magnanimous soul (nope, I’m kind of a bitch), or because the cosmos has finally realized that I’ve had enough of the stupid crap it’s been throwing my way for close to a year and finally decided to send some good stuff my way (hopefully this is it), but lately I have really been feeling the love.  Mainly from all of you peeps out there.  I have been featured on more than one blog lately, and even received the ultimate accolade of funny . . . being chosen as a Funny Bitch by Noa of Oh Noa fame.  Let’s just say this month has left me feeling sort of warm and fuzzy and good about myself for a change (I know you’re listening karma.  Back off, bitch!).

The most recent event was receiving this little thing:

. . . is a magic number.

I have been chosen by the very funny and witty Carrie, the original Cannibalistic Nerd, as one of three people that she wants to know some things about.  Three things, to be specific (are you noting a theme here?).  And while I told her that I don’t think I’m really all that interesting, nor are there that many things that you guys would even want to know about me, I will humbly and graciously accept this honor.

Here’s the deal . . . I have to tell y’all three things about myself, then name three more blogging peeps that I want to know more about, and then hope that they will be willing to share something with the class.  Oh, and they have to use the 3 (above).  Have I mentioned that this has something to do with the number 3?  Yeah, so . . . 3.

Here are 3 things about me:

1.  I love Elvis Presley.  I have an unhealthy fascination with all things Elvis, sort of like my friend Jen and her Nathan Fillion obsession.  Although mine falls short of stalking.  Mostly because he is dead.  Just mostly.  But I think the man is absolutely fascinating.  I have been to Graceland and have an absolutely awful and hysterical picture of me standing next to his grave (I didn’t want to smile, because, ya know, grave and all.  But instead I look like I’m scowling.  Awful).  But I also have a super fun pic of me throwing myself up against the gates.  So, yeah.  Elvis.  Love him.

Did I mention he was pretty hot as well?

2.  When I was a tween (12 maybe?) my  mom entered me into a beauty pageant.  I think it was like Miss Pre-teen or some shit.  There was a group dance number that I had to participate in.  Yeah.  Now, I was a cute kid, but I wasn’t beauty pageant material.  I had a short bob haircut, and was just about to enter into those awkward teenage years. Plus, there were girls there that had been doing this shit, Toddlers & Tiaras-style, for years.  I remember getting ready back stage, putting on my home made mint green silk dress (it was awful guys), and a mom of one such specimen of Tiara-dom took pity on my poor unfortunate ass and removed one of the many many hoops from under her daughter’s skirts to let me borrow and wear under my flat and non-billowy dress.  Because I looked tragic, y’all.  My mom is not the epitome of fashion, and in her inexperienced hands, I looked like some home ec project gone terrible wrong.  It was so sad.  Shockingly, I did not win that competition.  And thus began and ended my pageant career.

Yeah, I DID NOT look like this.

3.  It’s almost my birthday, bitches!!!  Yeah, boy-eeee.  While usually I approach my impending doom day of birth with a bit of trepidation, I am excited this year.  I am going away for a couple days to Atlantic City, just me and the hubs (no kids, did I mention the excitement?), which means I will not have to work on my birthday for once (I usually, in years past, have had a docket scheduled ON my birthday.  Sucks).  And I even got a birthday present already!  It was awesome, it was from Johi, and I will talk about it next week.  And extra bonus is that I don’t have to spend an entire week with my mother, which is such a relief.  Usually we take a week, around my birthday, and travel with the kids down to Florida to stay with my parents.  Now, I love my parents.  But I love them much more from afar.  Way way way far.  They are just a lot to deal with.  Small doses of them is ideal.  So a week is a loooonnnnnnnggggggg time, is what I’m saying.  But this year?  Freedom!!  (I’m really not this horrible of a person.  You have not met my mother.  Don’t judge until you do).

Ok, enough about me already!  Now I get to pass on the love to 3 other bloggers that I want to know 3 things about.  Did I mention 3?

Leauxra of Does This Make My Blog Look Fat? - This chick be funny, yo.  Even though she has been posting a bit less frequently lately, she is always there with a quick witty comment on my site.  The woman cannot rhyme under pressure apparently, but I still think she’s hilarious.  Maybe she’ll even start posting again soon . . .  Fingers crossed.

Kelly of I’m In There Somewhere - Kelly is a stay at home mom of 2 kids, with 2 dogs and a military hubs.  Every time she posts I learn a little bit more about her crazy and hysterical life.  But I want more!  Come on, Kelly . . . give me some good stuff!

Bill of The Authentic Life - Bill is one of my Dude-Bitches.  I find him absolutely fascinating.  One minute he is posting the most moving poetry and prose, and then the next he is posting cartoons of Amy Winehouse coming to him in a drunk induced dream state or of his hubby, Paul, not understanding his blog (ha! Join the club).  He is fabulous and I love him.  Plus, I’ve never had a gay man make me feel so dirty when he drunk raps about me.  In the best possible way!  And stay tuned for his submissions in this Friday’s Weekly Whacked.  You will not be disappointed!

True dat.

Ok, peeps, check out these fantastic bloggers, share the love, and buy me birthday presents (wait, what?  Oops, that one just slipped out).   :)

An Afternoon with Thoughtsy

This past weekend I once again had the extreme pleasure of meeting up with my friend Thoughtsy from Thoughts Appear.  The last time we met, we were able to experience the majesty of the Ren Fest together, where we had some mead, met a pirate, watched some comedy shows, and just generally enjoyed watching all the crazies walking around the festival grounds. 

This time was not quite as eventful (sadly, no pirates to be had), but still lots of fun.  We decided we would meet up and do a little shopping at this little shop in her hometown, and then go get some vittles at a local pub.  I was really excited to go to her ‘hood so that she could show me the local haunts.  It was set to be a fun experience, no doubt.

So we met at this local establishment called Retro Metro.  This place was totally up my alley.  It had lots of kitschy stuff that was funny, naughty and irreverent.  I loved it!  Here are some of the best finds:

I’m not sure “secret” is the word you are looking for.

This was one of the first things I saw in the shop, so this started off the shopping experience with a bang.  So to speak.

Next we have a plethora of your bacon offerings.  This place really catered to the bacon loving crowd, let me tell ya!

Bacon between your teeth. Um . . . yum?

Great, so I can be hungry for my hour long commute!

Mmmm, bacon.

Who doesn’t?

Yes, please.

And next we have our very own Thoughtsy modelling a very educational and insightful item.  Note:  she is currently taking a sign language class.  Pretty sure they aren’t teaching this stuff:

Naughty!!

This next one was near and dear to my heart, for some reason.

It’s pronounced “Law-yer.”

This next one has my name written all over it.  I need me a Wonder Woman Crunk Cup, yo!  (Psst, my birthday is coming up.  Just sayin’).

Now I just need a gold lasso and invisible plane.

I mean, it’s no pimp cup . . . but it’ll do :

It’s a pretty brutal field.

I love it when I see something and it just totally throws me off my game.  This was one such thing.  It was not what I expected and made me laugh out loud.  For realz.  Full of awesome:

Awww, so preciou . . . wait, WHAT?

I really wanted to figure out a way to justify buying the legal post-its, but alas.  They remained neighbors of Jeebus.

Like Cheez-its, but better.

After our perusal of all of the above items and purchase of a few little things for our peeps, we were feeling a might bit hungry, so we went around the corner to a local Irish pub to have some lunch.  As you can see, Thoughtsy was really famished!  She could hardly wait to dig into that crab cake in order for me to take a picture:

Authentic MD crabcake.

My lunch was pretty unremarkable, since I am still dieting, so it wasn’t particularly photographic.  But then we ordered dessert.  See, this was Thoughtsy’s joint, so she had experienced the majesty that was the famous dessert of this place . . . s’mores.  We were given a few options.  We opted for the peanut butter since she had not tried that one yet, and we also opted to share.  Now, I was picturing a true s’more that would come out and we would have to somehow saw through that sucker, but what arrived was much easier to split.

Mmmmm, s’mores.

It was basically a layered and melted bowl of graham cracker pieces, chocolate, peanut butter chips and marshmallows.  It was perfect and delicious.  And really easy to share.  Too easy, in fact.  Plus, as Thoughtsy noted, it was the perfect ratio of chocolate to peanut butter.  Yummy!

Spoonful on the way to my mouth . . . nom nom nom.

Add a glass of wine to that mix, and it was pretty much the perfect afternoon.  We shopped, we ate, we drank, we chatted.  It was fun times.  Plus, I might have even convinced Thoughtsy to come to BlogHer with me in August.  :)

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Ok all, you have been so patient to read through this entire account of my day out with Thoughtsy, that I have decided to reward you.  While I was in Retro Metro, I also picked up a few items that I am going to share with YOU!!  So, I now present to you, the first ever of it’s kind:

THE MISTY’S LAWS GIVEAWAY!!!

Yay!!!  And the crowd goes wild.  Wait.  What’s that?  You want to know what you will win?  Oh, and you wanna know how to win said item.  Ok, ok.  Details.  Pfft.

I got a few items while there, so there will actually be a couple give aways after this one, but we are gonna start with this beauty:

. . . you love my blog?

This fine hunka hunka chocolate bar is yours if you do one of these things:

1.  Follow my blog.

2.  Like me on Facebook.

3.  If you have done those things already, leave a comment if you have never done so (something good, not just “hi, I’m commenting”).

4.  If you have done all of those already, do something creative in the comments.  Write me a poem, a song, a dirty limerick.  Whatever you want, just be creative.  Points for originality.  (This means you Jen, Johi, Charity, Kelly, Leauxra, etc.  You know who you are . . .  gimme something good!).

I will draw the winner when I return from my birthday trip at the end of the month.  So, basically, it is my birthday, but you guys get the gift.  How amazingly magnanimous am I, right?  You know you love me!  :)

A Bad Case of VD

No, not that kind.  It doesn’t burn when I pee or anything.  But, um, just in case . . . you might wanna get yourself checked out.  Just saying.

What I’m talking about is the impending zombiepocalypse holiday.  You know what I’m saying.  Whether you are single, in the beginning buds of a relationship, or fully ensconced in marital doldrums bliss, you know it’s coming.  That most holy of holiest holidays.  Valentine’s Day.

Now, I will tell you that I am not a fan.  I am one of those fully married sorts.  So I don’t get all het up over some Hallmark induced made up holiday.  I mean, besides the whole “why do we have to celebrate our love for each other once a year” reason.  The real reason is that I am just not into all that lovey dovey crap.  I am not a touchy feely person.  And also?  I have no earthly idea what to get my husband for this mainly made up and wholey focused on the female persuasion holiday.  I mean, really.  This holiday is totally for the menfolk to get laid, right?  I mean, it’s super easy for guys.  Buy flowers.  Buy chocolate.  Go to dinner.  Hell, maybe even pull out the big guns and buy jewelry.  Done.  What do the women get for the men?  Blowjobs, ideally.

Tell me the guy who made this holiday up wasn’t just some horny mother humper.  Go ahead.  Tell me.  See?  You can’t.  Doesn’t make sense otherwise.  If it did, there would be some sort of reciprocal type thing that men would get from us ladies, that didn’t involve us bobbing our head up and down in their crotchal region, right?  I mean, what can we buy them?  Flowers?  Nope.  Candy?  Nah.  Jewelry?  Yeah, ok, if you want them walking around like Chandler, sure.  So, you have to come up with something creative, and unless you are just getting them a present (shirt, tie, books, cds, movies, etc.), then how is this different from a birthday or anniversary?  Therein lies the problem.

The hubs actually gets me flowers every year.  And every year I tell him not to.  Don’t get me wrong, I love flowers.  I love the feeling of knowing that someone was thinking about you enough to get you flowers and getting home from work and finding them waiting there for you.  Especially last year when the hubs was away on V-day.  I still got the flowers.  But the problem is that V-day flowers are ridiculously marked up.  Plus, they are the most dreadfully awful one thorn in the grave flowers.  They die practically the next day.  So, they are just a waste, pretty much.  This year I asked for chocolate covered strawberries.  We’ll see.

Anyway, this wasn’t intended as a V-day diatribe.  I actually wanted to share with you some of the fun things I saw in the grocery store last week that are V-day related.  Some are just random fuckery, but also may possibly sorta kinda be something I got the hubs.  Or not.  Allegedly.  (Hubs, if you are reading this right now . . . HAHAHAHAHAHAHA . . . ahem, sorry.  Anyway, stop reading now!).

Ahh, modern day hearts.  No more of this silly, “You’re swell” or “Call me” nonsense.  Now it’s all about the rocking and the texting.  I’m surprised it didn’t say “Sext me” or “Be my tweetheart.”  Next year, maybe.

Why are their heads melted?

Ok, this right here?  Nonsense.  Peeps are 1.  Disgusting,  2.  Supposed to be little yellow chicks, and 3.  FOR EASTER!  Stop it, Peeps.  Stop trying to hoard in on other holidays.  What’s next . . . marshmallow shamrocks?  Peppermint flavored flags?  Turkeys?  SANTAS?  Enough.  Know your place.

Preach it, girlfriend!

Ok, is it wrong that I kinda wanted to buy this tiny little lunchbox?  I find it sort of adorable.  Also?  Word.

Sex, right? I mean, isn't it obvious?

I took this pic because I thought this was just sort of ridiculously funny.  Lover Duckies.  Like Rubber Duckies.  Geddit?  It wasn’t until I went to put it in the post that I actually read what it said underneath.  Um, I think we know.  It’s not that hard to figure out.  And also?  Why do you have to wait until bath time is done, duckies?  Why?  I just think you’re maybe doing it wrong.

Pimp Pen!!

Seriously.  Check out the hat.  It’s a mother lovin’ pimp pen, y’all.  This may or may not have been too awesome not to buy and I may or may not have gotten this for the hubs.  You can’t prove a thing!  STOP LOOKING, HUBS!!  Day-um.

Redneck Fish

This one, sadly, was a missed opportunity.  I can say with all honesty and despair that I did not buy this for the hubs.  I actually saw this a couple weeks ago.  About the same time as I was hiding behind the cardboard Lindt chocolates display, taking a picture of the trainwreck that was the tween wannabe.  It was then that I happened to look up and see this wonderous thing.  I sadly only snapped a pic and went about my way.  Then, this last week, when I returned . . . it was gone.  I can see why.  It is just so darn wonderful.  I mean, what says love more than a redneck, bandana wearing, beer drinking, Earnhardt loving (I’m sure) Fish!!  Drats.

Then, at another fine retail establishment, I saw a bunch of things which will solve all of my problems for what to buy for my man.  In fact, all of any woman’s problems with that issue.  Oh, and another fish:

Don't let THIS one get away!!

I’m not admitting to anything here, but since I wasn’t able to get the redneck fish . . . well, you know.  I didn’t throw this one back is all I’m saying.

The next was a series of “man-type items” in the form of chocolate:

Nothing says love this V-day like a set of BALLS.

You are such a tool.

No, I will not buy my hubs a psuedo dick!

And what is with the freaking abundance of fish themes?  Am I missing something?  Maybe I’m doing it all wrong.  I wasn’t aware that this was such a MAN thing.  Maybe instead of blowjobs, I should just buy him a great big raw carp!

Oh gawd.

Ok all.  That is it for this round of V-day fuckery.  Anyone else see anything whickety whackedy weird re: the big day of love?  I’m sure there is some crazy stuff out there.  But I don’t get out much, so the inventory at the Giant and Target is the best I can do.  Sorry.  Please feel free to share your own visions of love (and it was all that you’ve given to meeeee), ahem . . . sorry.  That one got away from me.  Anyway . . . hit me with your best shot . . .  seriously, I need help.  Someone stop me.

Weekly Whacked: Your Turn!

Ok, kids and kidettes.  Today will not be your normal posting about the F-ed up things I see all over town.  I have had to revamp the site and it’s contents a bit, so I am in a bit of a holding pattern at this point.

So, I have had a brilliant idea.  Based on some recent questions and submissions by others, I have decided to open this up to you.  Yes YOU!  I want you to send me any pictures you have of anything whickety whacked.  If you don’t already have any, start snappin’.  I will take whatever you may deem inappropriate, whether it be car, person, animal or mineral.  Whatever it is, send it on over.

And for those of you thinking “I can’t take pictures like Misty does!  She’s a super special secret agent ninja photographer!!  And . . . I may get shanked.  I value my life.  No way!!”  Ok, here’s the deal.  Imma let y’all in on a little secret.  Because we’re down like that.  I am not a ninja.  (Gasps from the crowd!!).  Nope.  I have no super secret training or skills.  It’s really pretty easy.  Basically, just walk around with your phone, ideally already set to the camera function.  When you see something staggeringly awful, just pull that sucker out and pretend you just got a text or something.  Act as if you are pushing buttons, while at the same time subtly shift the camera up just a touch to get the atrocity in the shot.  Then, click!    Then walk away in a swift manner, especially if you were noticed by said specimen of horror.  It is really just that easy.

But be safe out there, peeps.  I don’t want anyone to get shanked on my watch.

You have 2 weeks to get them to me.  Next week’s whacked will be a bit of a rehash of some old stuff as well, but the week after I’m going to need to have your submissions.  I will credit you, of course, unless you ask me not to.  Send them to mistyslaws at gmail dot com.

(Please note that this does not mean to troll the internet for wacky pics, i.e thepeopleofwalmart.com, and then send them to me.  I want original stuff, people.  Remember:  stealing is the most whickety whacked.  And not in a good way).

I will give you one example, and also a little quiz, on this fine friday morning.  This one was sent to me by Jana from Shut the Front Door.  We went back and forth over this one on Facebook and nobody could figure out what the hell this plate means.  Why don’t you give it a try.

Already guessed is:  I love Zoro.  Icey love Zoro.  I Clove Zoro.  I Chart Zoro.  We are thinking it is some language that none of us speak, but damned if we can figure it out.  Give it a go.  Best guess in the comments . . . .

Misty’s Laws

Since I have been named as the Supreme Exultant Ruler of all that is good and decent and awesome (self-proclaimed, but still totally valid and official . . . I am awaiting my feathery glittered sash any day now), I have decided to set forth a set of unimpeachable rules. These rules are set in stone and if they are ever violated, it will result in an immediate and embarrassing death! All shall take heed:

1.  Thou shalt not yell at your kid in public, especially telling said kid to “shut the fuck up” when he/she is crying uncontrollably. Also to include not grabbing an arm of said kid and smacking them repeatedly on their bottoms whilst telling them to shut the fuck up. No.

2.  Thou shalt not talk on your cell phone whilst in a public bathroom. Ewwww.

3.  Thou shalt not turn around and face the person standing behind you on an elevator, thus making them feel uncomfortable and wondering why in the hell you are not standing in front of them facing the doors as any respectable person would know to do who has ever ridden in or heard of the concept of riding on an elevator.

4.  Thou shall not steal Jen’s chair.

5.  Thou shall not propose to, wink at or otherwise flirt in any way with the attorney handling your case if you are currently in shackles. As much as you may think that conjugal visits are a turn on, if you are serving time, you are not a catch. Stop that shit.

6.  Thou shall not wear tights, stockings, panty-hose or any other thin legging material meant to go under clothing AS PANTS. Also, if you are wearing leggings as pants and they stretch out over your ass so much that I can see the shape and/or color of your underwear and every nook and cranny of your cellulite? No.

7.  Thou shalt not furiously and immediately need to pull in front of my car on the highway and then proceed to insist on driving slower than fuck. If you wish to drive that slow, get the fuck over into the other lane and out of my way. I am not driving just to have a pleasant, scenery perusing experience. I actually want to get to my destination sometime today. Go somewhere else with your dickery.

8.  Thou shalt not read my blog for the first time in 7 months of my blogging, which you knew full well about all those 7 months ago (only after I have a full on breakdown and finally tell you how much it bothers me that as the only person in my real life who knows about my blog, that you have absolutely no interest in it and it actually bothers you when I mention it) finally get around to reading it and then tell me that parts of it are “interesting.”  Hubs.

9.  Thou shalt not be a well made, yet low rated new TV show that I just begin to get into and look forward to, just to get cancelled after 12 episodes.  Grrrrr.

10.  Thou shall NOT ask me how old Madonna is during the half time show, and when told that she’s in her 50′s say, “huh, I thought she looks like your age, mommy.”  Bastard child of mine!

Now that you are aware of the rules, be diligent in your adherence to them.  So they are written, so shall they be done..

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So, what would your rules be?  Have I missed any crucially important ones that should go on the list?  Let me know and I will review and judge whether they are deemed worthy to be included.  Your Queen has spoken.

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