Parkin spaces, Bargain hunters & Chatty Kathy

Ok, before anybody goes and indicts me on charges of being a hateful, Christmas squashing skank, I am going to attempt to defend myself. I have officially pulled the Grinch out of my ass and found the holiday spirit, somewhat at least. I put two trees up and lit the outside of my house up with an ill flashing duck. I should really get a picture of it, it's ugly as hell. But since my daughter absolutely hates that cheezy duck sooo much, I find an added bit of joy when I plug the lights in and it starts nodding. Heh. She's since learned not to tell me when she doesn't like something as I go out of my way to rub it in. (But that's another story).

I've finally figured out what the hell has made me need liquid happiness the past few years. It's the complete commercialization and exploitation of a HOLY season by corporate assholes banking on us spending every last penny we don't have.
But being broke ain't the real problem, kids. Nah... Robert has already said he was gonna tell Jesus I'm broke, so I'm not worried about all that so much. I'm all caught up on the credit card bills by say mid-July of the following year. Nice, eh? Whatever...

Oh shit, I'm supposed to be defending myself against Bah Humbug Syndrome. Right, so here we are. I swear I'm in an awesome holiday mood. I'm just pointing out the obvious. Let's discuss all of the little things that make this season so jolly and bright.

- The parking situation. This time of year is a nightmare worse than Freddy Kruger chasing me in my unbuttoned button-up oxford shirt and panties through a lonely, dark street whilst I fight to wake up from the dream before he kills me. With people playing drag race down narrow parking aisles in an attempt to get that one spot that opened up close to the door.

I nearly got taken out three times in two parking lots Saturday while trying to get to a semi-non-populated part of each parking lot.
Since I drive Big T's big truck every chance I get, the front parking space means precisely dick to me. I'm not one who minds to walk to and from the store, even if it's pretty far. I park toward the back of the lot where all the asshats wouldn't dare park as it would mean they have to actually walk more than 20 steps to enter the shopping establishment. Which means it's less likely that a NASCAR slide into the parking space I have chosen is not very likely.

- Bargain hunters. Those ladies will run you down and put you into the wall, like Dale Jr. comin up on Gordon in the final few laps at Daytona, with their buggy full of goods to get that one thing that's on the other side of you. "Look! It's a tube of KY Jelly discounted 25% for the holidays!!!!!" she squeels as you feel the buggy ram your hip and said bargain beast rolls through the already packed aisle to get .

I really think shopping buggies are in dire need of horns, brakes and blinkers. No shit. I think I might just market that. There's cause for it as Wal-Mart and my local Food City are the spawn of satan year round anyway.

- The talker. Now, I admit it, I talk on the phone whilst cruisin the warzones (also known as Wal-Mart, Target, Bed Bath & Beyond, Goody's, etc, etc...). But I never have, nor will I ever, be so inconsiderate as to stop dead still in the middle of a friggin aisle to continue my conversation, creating a backlog of people waiting to pass by my fat ass. Look it sister, if you're gonna take about the corns on the big toe of your left foot, do it somewhere else. Don't stop mid-step, put your hand on your hip and share about it where all of your fellow shoppers have to hear it. I personally don't care about your corns or any of your other podiatric flaws. You are doing nothing more than creating an angry mob behind you, who (if held up too long) will pommel you to the ground stampede style.

So, that was my shopping experience from the weekend. Swear to all that's Holy, I'll at least consider Christmas shopping around the 4th of July next year.
Thank goodness I'm nearly done with it except for the "mystery gifts" for the Dirty Santa festivity with Big T's family on Christmas Day. (Blog on that one to come.)

xoxoxo Love all ya'll. xoxoxxo

A Cake is A Cake, Right?

So, this wedding hasn't exactly went off without a hitch... If I don't end up in a padded room by the end of this thing it will be a miracle..

Leave us recap all of the issues, shall we?

**I mean, the date has been changed from July 14th to June 2nd and now (officially) September 29th.

**My stepbrother (the preacherman) was who was supposed to officiate the ceremony, ceremoniously backed out on me without letting me know.

**My chinese torture underwear has been returned for the proper size, yet the company has yet to send the replacement (the bastards).

**I am now going to have to reschedule AGAIN with the dress alteration lady.

GAAAA!!!! Then there is the issue with the cake.

Now call me simple-minded. But ain't cake, cake? Nothing more, nothing less?
At least that is what I thought when I started all this.

My original cake lady gave me the schpeel about how her cakes cost from $2 - $2.50 per serving. Now, I'm thinkin, if all of these folks that have been invited to this here illustrious event show, I'm gonna end up shellin out around $450 for a cake.
Cake, kids. Flour, eggs, oil, frosting. A cake. She cuts me a deal, and agrees on $230.00 set up and all.

Well, when the wedding got cancelled twice, I ended up losing the original cake lady. Which I was really bummed about, because although it was ass expensive, she was talented enough to make me the cake I wanted:


But alas, Elaine is looney and completely booked from now until Jesus comes back.

So, Olga (my boss) comes in this past Monday morning and says "Dude, you know when one door closes, another one opens." She had found someone, quite by accident, that does cakes. Yay!

Or so I thought. So, the lady calls me. We discuss the cake and how many I need to feed with this cake and so on... She goes on to tell me that she doesn't do that pricing by the piece stuff. I was thinking, "are you for real? You rock cake chick!".

So, she says give her a day or so to work on pricing and she'd get back to me. Well, today was the day. The phone range this morning and I was thrilled to be hearing back from her so promptly.

She says she can do the cake (mind you, I downsized from the original cake, so it was smaller). And she'll do the cake for a measley $550.00.

Sweet Holy Jesus, I almost fell over. Since I was at the office and unable to pass out right that second, I settled for my jaw dropping so far it hit my desk.

I thanked her kindly for her call, and told her I had to get in touch with my Mama since she is the one paying for it. We've decided to forego the half thousand dollar delight and put the blame on my Mom. She'll never know.

Anyway, off to Food City I go, as in a previous grocery foraging expedition, I noted in the back of my mind, that they have cakes for all occassions.

Seriously, who give two shakes of pig poo if the things tastes like sweet cardboard. It's still cake. Like anybody will eat it anyway.
Well, anybody other than my paternal grandfather would would eat the leather off of a shoe if it had icing on it.

They are going to prepare me a cake, that althought it ain't nearly what I wanted to begin with, will do. Especially for the $$.

For a mere $160 plus tax, we are getting a mighty fine work of edible art.


But still, I beg of you this answer... Ain't a cake, a cake?
I could just as easily go to Sam's and get a mac sized cake for $21.99. And they'll even airbrush Spiderman on it if I want. =)