Now That's Clean Livin' Right There

I just went out to get a Coke from the fridge in the garage and for some reason when I opened the door to the fridge I chuckled. So I decided to take a picture of the contents of my garage fridge and post it for my Hotties. It is just a thousand drinks of all kinds and a huge thing of mushrooms, but god damn I think it's funny. Who's thirsty?

I've Decided

I've decided no resolutions this year.

I've also decided that as long and lovely as my hair is, it is time to chop it all off. I'm even pondering the switch back to redheadeddom.

And finally, I've decided that Lasik surgery is in my near future.

Oh all right, one more.

I have also decided that I will no longer harbor any hostility towards my mother. I woke up in the middle of the night with this realization. Around 2 a.m. this morning I attributed this decision to my impending birthday and growing older and wiser. But now that I am fully awake I think it was more a combination of reading One More Day yesterday and the handful of narcotics I took before bed. Whichever reason, I've decided to let that bird fly the coop.

So yeah, new hair and new eyes in '07.

I've been very slothlike this past week, lounging on the couch and watching dozens upon dozens of movies. I think I've spent a combined total of about 287 hours bubble bathing. It has been great. I haven't been this relaxed in a long time.

Last night I was reading through the old blog looking for a particular post I wanted to show Arcturus. I couldn't remember what month or even season I had posted it in, so I just had to read through a bunch of shit and I came to the conclusion that this time last year I was a much better blogger. What a difference a year makes. My poor, poor reader.

PS - What are the chances that I could get all of you fuckers to switch to the new blogger so I could once again resume leaving comments? And just say no to word verification, it's for pussies.

Just A Little Holiday Message From Me To You

I'm swear, I'm updating very, very soon.

The Mail Man Was Kind

He just delivered a sack of bills, Christmas cards and gift cards from relatives from the W-V who won't see me this year. They include Sears, Gap and Lands End. What the fuck is Lands End? It sounds lame. Who wants it? Tomorrow we'll give away Sears.

Ricky Bobby

Yesterday began my 6 day vacation. At the end of said 6 days, I will return to work for 2 days and then begin a 5 day vacation. At least that's the way it is planned, whether or not it works out that way has yet to be seen.

Meanwhile Stacey is off somewhere having lots of sex with some man who is not her husband. And since unfortunately Snarls is her husband, we shall not condemn her.

I've got a new cleaningperson scheduled to arrive tomorrow. And get this, he's a he. I just hope he cleans as well as he talks dirty.

As such I'm spending my second day of vacation furiously cleaning in preparation for his arrival. We must put our best foot forward after all.

Last night I treated myself to a new winter coat (40% off, bitches), a new suit, and handful of new jeans, sweaters and blouses. Today I think Hot Santa Lips will bring me new shoes. It just feels like a new shoes day to me. I have a couple of last minute Christmas gifts to buy, but I know exactly what they are and where to get them so it is no biggie.

My family will arrive late tomorrow and then the fun begins.

I've arranged for a small, teeny, tiny little meet and greet of the family with some of my more intimate friends on Christmas Eve where there will be finger foods, and depending on the weather, a fire in the outdoor fire pit. I've already warned all the invitees that I will not be myself. There will be no cussing, no dirty stories, no drunkenness. In other words, no fun. But we mustn't give my fragile grandparents a heart attack.

Also in preparation for my grandparents arrival I have been raiding all the local home health supply stores. Those of you who have been paying attention know that my poor little grandpa is an amputee and doesn't get around very well. Which sort of make me a shithead for insisting that he leave his comfortable, well-equipped home to spend the holidays in a non-handicap accessible place. But those of you who have been paying attention also know that it is all about me so that doesn't really matter. But in order to make his stay a little more comfortable I have become the new owner (at least for the next week) of a potty chair, a power scooter and a lift chair. I've even rented a minivan for the week so as to transport the whole family and the power scooter around.

Now, if you don't mind, I've got a linen closet to organize.

I Put The Ass In Class

And I put the Cuervo Gold in these margaritas.

I've recently decided to try new shit, which so far has only resulted in menu selections i.e. the talapia I got the other night.

Tonight it meant margaritas instead of diet coke per usual.

Which is a strange choice for a girl like me. And now I think I need to get my tonsils removed.

I think my date was a little embarrassed when I told our waitress to get my lobster entree away from me because it smelled like fried ocean ass.

But then I tipped her $28 so I'm sure she doesn't give a shit what I said to her. Or that I stuck my tongue in her ear.

Next I think I'll conquer Merlot.

To Apease The Masses

One - Two



These are both real, 10 foot spruce trees. Or are they Douglas Firs? What the hell do I know? Anyway, they are both decorated in beach themed ornaments, glass flip flops, Hawaiian shirts, margarita glasses, flamingos, seashells, you get the idea.

In keeping with the beach theme...we have tree number three



What? It has lights and ornaments so it counts.

Four



This is the most pitiful, but it has the most room under it so it gets the majority of gifts beneath it.

Five and Six are on the front porch (remember my QVC impulse buy?) but I couldn't get them in the same picture so you are just going to have to take my word for it. Here, see if you can find them in this pic, they are sort of hidden behind the columns.




As a consolation prize I give you my more traditionally decorated foyer.




Merry Christmas, Kids.

Deck the Halls, Homies

Where the hell have I been? Sheesh.

I'm happy as a clam with the weather, or lack thereof as Arcturus would say. And surprisingly, despite the utter lack of frigid temps and snow, I've never been more in the Christmas spirit.

Well, let me back up a little. I'm not sure I even know what the Christmas spirit is. And if Jesus really is the Reason for the Season, then I'm not in the Christmas spirit. So I guess I should say I've never been less of a grinch. Yes, much better.

This year rates lowest on the grinchometer than any previous year.

I would like to attribute this to two facts...

1) the weather. I'm sorry, but these mild, sunny, mid-70 degree days have put a spring in my step and a calmness and patience dealing with all these Christmas crazies the likes of which Hot Lips has never experienced before.

and

2) the fact that I dug in my heels and refused with more gumption than I have ever refused anything before to go to hell's armpit for Christmas.

This will be the first time in my whole entire life that I have not traveled to West Virginia to spend Christmas with my family at my grandparents' house. I'm not sure what took me so long to take this stand. And honestly, between me and all three of you, I would have given in if they had refused more vigorously than I refused. But I talked my family into coming here, at least a few key members, and I will be the Christmas hostess with the mostess.

It seems that with this undertaking I would be more stressed than normal, but nay, this is not the case. First of all, I'm using this as the perfect excuse to cross about 20 nogoods off my list. If you ain't coming to my house and breaking bread with me this holiday season, then I'm not buying you a damn thing. My money will stay snug in my bank account exactly where God intended it to be and not in the cash registers at Target, or Dillards, or Costco, etc etc.

I am also not buying for Big Daddy's family this year. I just decided not to. No hard feelings, but well, Hot Lips doesn't want to.

I even sent my dad an email and said let's skip the gifts this year. A few years ago I would have never done this because as a man with plenty of money who hates to shop, my Christmas gift was always a beautiful, fat check. But since he's remarried and my stepmonster has taken over the gift purchasing the beautiful, fat checks have turned into dumb Old Navy Sweatsuits and S'mores makers. And I'm sorry, but I'm a busy woman and it is a waste of my precious time to even sit down and take the time to open a Santa-themed dish towel set.

I even told Dee that I wasn't buying for her kids this year. Nothing personal, I just don't wanna.

So now my Christmas list looks something like this


Mother
Aunt
Grandmother
Grandfather
2 godkids
Dee's kids
All of Big Daddy's family
2 dozen random aunts, uncles and cousins I only see at Christmas

I literally eliminated a good 35 people off of my Christmas list.

And god damn I'm a happy camper.

I know you are all busy saying, But Hot Lips, you are sounding more grinchlike, not less.

And so I guess this is the point where I point out all the Christmas like things I have done. You've all been witness to the gayety of my outdoor decorations, and I assure you that the inside is no less gay. I have, count them, 6 Christmas tress. Oh yes I do! And they are all fabulous in their own little way. I finally mailed off my 75 Christmas cards. And those are all personal cards, the business cards are a whole other discussion altogether. I even hung up stockings this year.

Oh! And I finally learned the difference between a Christmas Open House and a Christmas Party. Big Difference. From here on out until the end of time, Hot Lips will only attend Open Houses from now on where she can casually come and go as she pleases.

Life's a beach, boys and girls.

And finally, Arc, I wasn't trying to be mean, per se, but you gotta admit, there is a striking resemblance.

Do Work

I'm sorry, but I love, with all of my heart, Rob & Big. I've often joked that the only thing I need to add to my stable of hired help is a security guard and a driver. But seriously, I think I need to get me a Big Black. I wouldn't mind getting me a Rob either, but he would only be one time use considering he's about 5'4, 145. God damn I love them. When I die, I want to come back as Meaty.

Another One Bites The Dust

What do you cats want to talk about?

I'm a little disappointed to find out from the entry and subsequent comments below that Joe is the only one buying me a Christmas gift. But if there are enough carats involved I suppose it will make up for the rest of you wankers.

And well, I think I'll have to just buy myself a Christmas present this year. A Brazilian butt lift.

And I know I am like super duper late to the game, but I bought Da Ali G show Seasons 1 and 2 on DVD and seriously laughed until my bladder exploded. If anyone out there hasn't experienced the ironic hilarity of it all, please, please I implore you to run to Target and check it out. I'll even front you the 40 clams if I need to. And of course, I like totally want to fuck Sacha Baron Cohen now.

Speaking of fucking, I partied like it was 1999 this weekend. And that's all I'm going to say about that. I think I need to start doing blow. That's rock and roll, right? Because can I really say I partied all weekend when I didn't do any drugs? I'm such a poser. I'm going to become a druggie if it is the last thing I do.

One of my oldest and dearest friends got engaged this weekend. I thought she was going to be forever single (by choice) but apparently I was wrong. And I'm totally disgusted. Like gag me with a spoon. Seeing her engaged has me convinced just about more than anything that I'm old. Old, old, old. I can't believe she said yes, that cunt.

But screw her, I've got cocaine addiction to look forward to.

Fa La La La La

Because I couldn't find any brave young men to go up on my roof to string Christmas lights, it was only the lower level that got adorned. And as such, my three-story house looks like a rancher. The top half is totally ignored, neglected and naked.

So I'm all Merry Christmas on the outside and not a stitch of holiday cheer on the inside. So this weekend it is my goal to address the holidays. I will fill out and address and mail all of my Christmas cards, purchase and decorate a tree, wrap gifts and bake a gingerbread house. Of course I'm lying about that last thing, but it just seemed to fit.

I'm having a little office Christmas cocktail party tomorrow for which a new outfit will be purchased tonight. I've got my eye on this. At least the shirt. The pants aren't really doing it for me. And of course it will look exactly like that on me as it does on that model. (Now, you guys might want to start backing up before the lightening bolts start showering down.)

I also plan on some obnoxiously big hair.

It's as cold as a witch's tit outside today. It is supposed to be more of the same tomorrow. But it is supposed to start to warm up on Sunday and be in the mid 60s all next week. And that's nice, right? If I can somehow talk Mother Nature (or should I talk to Mother Earth? Or Father Time?) into letting that trend continue through Christmas then I would dance a little jig.

Now, what are you guys buying me for Christmas?


PS - I think one of my light up reindeer is pregnant.

For Snarls

To The Left

This getting dark at 4:15 shit is really throwing me off my game. You here at StaceyLovesMe know how Hot Lips hates change. Or whatever.

I know that some of you may want to shoot me for saying this, but I'm really ready for summer. Fo rizzle. I want to open up that fancy swimmin' hole of mine and give my scary twisty water slide another try. I want to wear nothing but a tankini most days, and I want to get a tan, a really good, deep, golden, malignant melanoma tan. Which reminds me of a summer a couple of years ago, well, probably more like 4, when I lived at the neighborhood pool just about every day. I got so motherfucking tan. I didn't know I could get that dark, but apparently I can. I was also rocking the long black hair then, and I was mistaken for Puerto Rican more than a few times that summer.

So yeah, summer. I'm making this solemn vow to my hotties right now. From now on I will cut back my hours to part time during the summer months. I will not let another summer, my most favorite season, go by in a pissy, stressed-out blur. I promise to spend an equitable amount of pool hours to work hours. I vow to take up drinking margaritas and to throw a pool party to mark each month of summer. I also promise to see the ocean a minimum of three times each and every summer. There is absolutely no excuse to live within a stones throw of the god damn motherfucking ocean and yet never worship at its altar. And finally, I vow to dance. At the grocery store, on the side of the road, in the chair at the dentist's office, wherever the mood may strike me.

Will someone please remind me of this post around mid May? Thank you.

Is there anything more annoying than a new mother? Didn't think so.

So my new jam for the past couple of days has been Beyonce's Irreplaceable.

To the left, to the left
Everything you own in a box to the left

I listened to it over and over again on my way in to work this morning singing my little heart out each time. I dedicated all of my performances to Snarls*. On about my 33rd performance, I had choreographed a little dance sequence to go along with my beautiful vocals whereupon I would point to the where all of Snarls' boxes are over in the left corner.

The chorus:

You must not know 'bout me
You must not know 'bout me
I could have another you in a minute
Matter of fact he'll be here in a minute
You must not know 'bout me
You must not know 'bout me
I'll have another you by tomorrow
So don't you ever for a second get to thinking you're irreplaceable

But my favorite part is when she tells him
Keep talking that mess, that's fine
But could you walk and talk at the same time

He he he. That crazy Beyonce! She's so sassy!



Love ya'll.








*Snarls is Stacey's (soon to be ex, although he doesn't exactly know it yet) husband.

S'up Fuckers?

I have so much shit to do. It is mostly semi fun shit, or at least not horrible shit, just do a lot of shopping, decorate for the holidays and the usual bank and post office type errands, but God damn am I feeling lazy. Well, the word "feeling" wasn't exactly necessary in that last sentence.

I just got an e-mailed invitation to a New Year's Eve party and before I considered the invite I scoured all the other e-mail recipients to see who else might be in attendance because I'm a big snob. And it is this snobbiness that will land me spending my golden years old and alone, but I'm sort of okay with that. Sometimes it can be a curse knowing that you are better than everyone else. Right, Stacey?

Today is the day of invites because I just got invited to the $1 couch Christmas party next weekend. I think I'll be skipping that this year. I did my time.

And speaking of my snobbiness, remember when I was in Atlantic City and got suckered into buying that timeshare? He he he. Well I finally sat down with the timeshare catalog and planned out '07's destinations. And I ended up booking a couple of 3 and 4 bedroom condos because, well, I apparently bought way more "points" than any normal person needs and therefore needed to burn them up on the 4 bedroom presidentials and this way I can take some people with me. Who, I don't know yet, that's the fun part. I will just spend the next 6 months secretly auditioning people. So Liz, you better be on your best behavior.

What the hell is taking so long to find that poor man lost in Oregon? I mean, my God, it is 2006, shouldn't we be like 20 years past people getting lost in the wilderness?

I've Become One Of Those People

So I'm almost certain that I reached the pinnacle of crazy, nosey, boring, pathetic old ladydom on Friday night. I had that realization around 10:00 p.m. when I was not only home, but crouched in a dark room with the window cracked straining to hear the goings on at the party next door being thrown by my 16-year-old neighbor.

A wise person once told me that life is just a series of high highs and low lows and well, I guess you can guess which one I have labeled Friday night.

My neighbors to the left are very nice people. They are friendly enough and always wave and speak if we find ourselves outside together, but otherwise they mind their own business. And that's the sort of thing that I really appreciate. They are very religious and have a handful of kids, the oldest of which is in charge of babysitting all the younger ones most of the time while the parents are out working long shifts.

It is a beautiful day on Friday. It really capped off a lovely week of beautiful, sunny days in the '70s. It was quite a way to start out December, I'm telling you. So anyway, I'm enjoying gorgeous, mild temperatures Friday evening and decide to open my windows for what I'm sure will be the last time this year. I'm minding my own business trying very hard to enjoy Season 1 of Da Ali G show, but I keep getting distracted. I'm hearing voices. Unlike the other voices I routinely hear, I'm convinced that these are actually real and not just in my head so I go and investigate. Sure enough, I deduce that the religious teenager next door is having a party. And I am fairly certain that this wasn't an adult-supervised, parentally-sanctioned party by the fact that all the cars were parked about four houses down the street, all the lights were off including the HOA mandated street lamp, and all the rowdy teens were ushered into the backyard.

My curiosity is strangely piqued by this because this family is so religious and every time I see this poor girl she is strapped down by a gaggle of younger siblings and I decide to do some further investigations. And by do further investigations I mean slither on my belly over to the window in my upstairs game room because I have decided this will give me the best vantage point to the backyard and cracking the window ever so slightly so that I can eavesdrop on what's going on. I then proceed to sit in a pitch black room spying on a yard full of high schoolers for half an hour. Although they were being very loud, I couldn't really make out what anyone was saying unless they came around to the front of the house, which usually meant they were leaving (I did hear a group of guys bitching as they were leaving because, and I quote, All the girls want to do is talk, and I didn't come here to talk.) After a while I threw in the towel and went back to finish Ali G (which made my laugh harder than anything has in the last 2 to 3 years).

Because I'm lame, by 11 o'clock I shut all the windows, turned off the tv and computer, unplugged all outdoor Christmas lights (because Hot Lips can decorate for the holidays like no one's business) and headed to bed.

So imagine my surprise the next day as I'm pulling out of my driveway and I notice that my family of light up Christmas reindeer have all been positioned in compromising sexual positions.

Fucking teenagers.

Call On Me

I stole this from www.jasonmulgrew.com but it made me horny and therefore worth reposting. You are welcome, Monk.