The Perfect Gift this Season

OG came into my office the other day. She was giggling and terribly amused about something. She told me to sign onto AOL so she could shoot me a linkie.

And she did. And it was funny. I plan to purchase multiples.

The Hillary Clinton Nutcracker. Get yours today!

How Do You Know - Part Duex

I'm getting mushy. Yah, I know ya'll are so used to my general disdain for life and this is coming as a complete shock. But, I'm gonna let 'r' rip while I'm feelin it. In the moment, is how I suppose you'd classify me at this second.

So, I'm at home at 10:40 on a Saturday night. I'm friggin thrilled to be sitting here. This time last week I was doing a toast with a bar full of drunken Germans in Munich (God bless Oktoberfest, ya'll. Those old boys could drink our old boys up under the table on any given weeknight)....

Anyway. How do I know that Anthony Kidwell loves, ME (Mrs. Diva Kidwell) more than any fat ass kid love a slab of pudding filled cake???

Well, we spent the evening discussing the US census and football and food and all the good things in life.

Then, he asked me about a certain CD, Blue Moon Rising, to name it.
So, I popped it in. There is one song on that CD that will bring tears to my eyes every time I hear it. And I pushed play.

My man, in the privacy of our DEN OF LOVE, took my hand and danced with me by candle-light. No one but me and him and a little candle light. He held me so close to him and sang into my ear. My heart did a pitterpat and I couldn't have ever felt closer to him than that one single moment. Together, alone, cherishing each other.

That, my friends, is how I know.

Damn That Fortune Cookie Nazi

I am sad to say that my addiction to Chinese Food was abruptly halted as a result of the ongoing battle with the Fortune Cookie Nazi. He won, I lost; no MSG, salt loaded, sugary goodness for Diva. Dammit.

So, I come home from a business trip and OG tells me that while I was gone, she had went to said establishment to partake of take-out as her man had taken ill.

She went to the self serve bar, I remember so well. She filled her to-go boxes with treats of all kinds…

She went to the front to pay our friend the Fortune Cookie Nazi…

“You need-a any sauces today?” He asked.

“No. I don’t think so,” she politely replied.

“Well, you must-a take the fortune cookie,” he tells her.

A light bulb went off off over her head. She finds out first hand that I’m not kidding when I say he just won’t give me a fortune cookie. That he has an inner drive within his deep dark soul, which keeps him from simply dipping in and giving me my friggin cookie.

What’s wrong with a brother when he won’t even share a 5 cent cookie? He would give me a truck load of sauces, chop stix, but no damn cookie. All I want is my cookie!! Why can’t you just give me my cookie!!!

I’m going to go rock back and forth in the corner now.

Do Orangutan's Have A Penis Bone?

Yah. I’m back home and totally enjoying the comforts of my OG and my happy little office. It’s always nice to get to travel far and wide, but even nicer to come home… especially since I had only been married a scant week when I had to leave on that jetplane. But that’s another story all together ain’t it?

So, OG and I have been known to have some pretty interesting conversations in the last 7 years that we have worked together. No holds barred. Really. We talk about anything and everything. Which brings me to what we are talking about here.

At lunch, we generally find some kind of magazine full of gossip or short, yet hilarious ditties. The conversation turned interesting when I found a short article about an ape who doesn’t dig girl apes…. Read this… you’ll love it.

AMSTERDAM (Reuters) - Sibu the Orangutan has miffed his Dutch keepers by refusing to mate with females and showing sexual interest only in tattooed human blondes.

Apenheul Primate Park hoped Sibu would become its breeding male when he arrived two years ago, but orangutans aren’t his type.

“He chases them, or ignores them, but he doesn’t do what he should do,” said a spokeswoman for the park.

Instead, Sibu fancies his female keepers, especially blondes. That, the spokeswoman said, was common for orangutans but Sibu has a fetish for tattoos, harking back to a heavily tattooed keeper who reared him.

“Orangutans have special interests in special subjects. Sibu happens to like tattoos,” she said.

So, this brought up the question of whether orangutans have a penis bone like most other mammals or if their penis gets hard like a human penis does. Yah, I know what you must be thinking…. perfectly acceptable, lady like lunchtime conversation. So, we finished up our lunch and google’d it, as we google every sick and twisted thing we can think of. And we found out that an orangutan does, in fact, have a penis bone.

OG has decided that I, being the blonde and tattoo’d chippie that I am, should stay the hell out of Amsterdam.

Just thought I’d share that tid-bit with you kids. Cheers!

A Wrap It Up Post - The Little Things

One week to the day after I was wed to my prince, I was on a plane to Germany for a business trip that would keep me away for 10 days. I can't say I've ever been happier to be home than I am now.

I realized there are so many little bitty things I manage to take for granted every single day. You better believe the following is a tribute to those things.

Ice. I never really realized just how damn much ice meant to me until I didn't have it in my drink, for 10 days. No friggin ice. Luke warm yacky soda with no ice to chomp on. Damn.

Soda. Well, the German people have soda. But they don't have a friggin clue what Diet Coke is, no. They call that shit Coke Light. It's super sweet and it tastes like real Coke. And without ice it is simply undrinkable to my spoiled American palate. And Diet Dew? They don't have Dew at all, let alone Diet Dew Light. Damn.

The Dollar Being A Dollar. The US dollar is nothing more than a flipping piece of paper at the time of this writing. I'm here to tell ya, by the time I paid the currency exchange fees and the exchange rate being as it was... my damn dollar was worth less than 47 cents, my friends. It was extremely apparent to me just how bad it was when I came home to do my expense report and found that for 10 days, with exchange rate, I had spent more than $400 on food and drinks alone. Damn. Wait! Rachael Ray would be totally impressed, that would be $40 a day. Go me!

Courtesy on the road. Well, not that we have the most courteous drivers in the US, especially in the states that start with "I", but even those numbnuts are courteous compared to the asshats on the autobahn. Hello dickhead, get out of my tail pipe and learn to use a signal other than the bird!

My man. Now this es muy imporante. I never in my life thought, with all the traveling Diva does, that I would be homesick for my man. I thought, I'm gone all the time. It'll be no big deal. WRONG! After more than a year of seeing his face and hearing his voice every single day... I realized how much I need those things and how much that he means to me. Oh God, I'm getting all mushy again.

But seriously, doing without Diet Dew with ice on the autobahn was enough to make me want to walk to the coast, buy a boat and start paddlin my ass back home.

The Rose Peddler

We had just sat down to have our mid-day bread breaking when a good-old boy, who apparently either can’t read or just doesn’t give a shit about the no-soliciting sign on the door cruised in. I figure it’s the latter, as it is posted on our door in plain sight where one would grab the handle and pull the door.



So, there we are. I wish my delicious Chicken Caesar Salad and OG with her ethinic beet soup. We are about to give thanks and partake, when this asshole walks in.

”Did you miss me?” He asks as he swaggers our way, booty in hand.

“Uh, no. It’s been about a year though.” OG says.

He sets his goods, dozens of long stem roses (which were mighty pretty to be sure) on our lunch table.

“Remember how much they are?” He winks at OG as she was the one who actually paid notice to his punk ass interupting our bread breaking.

“No,” she says, “but it doesn’t matter. We don’t want any anyway.”

Then I chime in, “You can donate some for my bachelorette party tonight.”

Of which he offers congrats, but ignores the donation request… dick.

“Well, you could buy some to toss at your stripper.” He says trying to appeal to my wild side.

“I ain’t got no stripper lined up, dude.” I reply, agast that he would even dream up that sales pitch.

“Mother or mother-in-law you could get some for?” he’s getting desparate.

So I decide to go in for the kill.

“Look guy, I’ll be completely honest. I’m not buying any because I am saving every penny to get balls out drunk tonight and if I buy your roses… that, my friend, will cut into my drinking budget.”

Have a great desert day, pal.

Fortune Cookie Nazi Wins Battle... Game Over

I just hate craving that damned chinese food from that damned yummy place over here by the office.

I mean, I get a craving for it and I decided that, despite the fact I know that evil ass munch won't give me the fortune cookie without a square off in the middle of the parking lot, I was going to go have me some tastey morsels of saucy goodness.

So, as usual, I go in, get my little styrofoam container, proceed to the buffet of happiness, load up my choices and go to the register to pay. I set my container on the scale, as they charge for buffet to go by the pound. This is where it the ugly gets on.

So, everything seems to be going smooth. I'm mentally preparing for the fight for the fortune cookie. I intend to win this time.

"You need sauce or fork?" He asks me all smug like.

"Nope. But I want a Diet Pepsi." I tell him.

"Diet Pesi" He calls out to the chick at the waitress station.

She totes it over and sets it on the counter as he rings me up.

"That be $4.62." He tells me.

UH OH! Houston we have a problem. Diva don't carry cash. Just something I don't do. It's way too easy to use my debit card to have to fool around with dollars.
This ass munch only takey the credit cawd fo ova fi dolla. Hasn't he seen that VISA commercial that shows the world is officially going plastic???

Still yet, I try to slip it by him. I pull out my debit card with VISA logo and push it toward him.

"We only take cawd fo purchase ova fi dolla." He reminds me.

"Look guy, I don't have any cash. Well I have a handful of change in the bottom of my purse, but not enough." I tell him as show him my empty wallet.

"You always can get another drink take wif you." He tells me.

"Uh, no. You can run my card or I'll have to leave it." I tell him, now pissed.

"Well, I not running cawd. You get cash, come back." He tells me.

"OK, fine." So, I walk out the door. No lunch, no friggin fortune cookie, and definitely no balls to tell him what he could do with his no useless carton of to-go.

God Bless Taco Bell. They'll takey my debit card for a 89 cent bean burrito.