Saturday, October 21, 2006

do not read this, stainless steel amazon. i love you. have a nice day.

Fat Sparrow: Fire in the hole: A true story

Go read this now. This cracked me up so bad it was PITIFUL!

Kind of ties in nicely, what with my recent tales of oven- toasted horror, and the immanent arrival of the latest boyfriend for dinner. We are serving roast beef, dinner rolls, sauce, mashed, and salad. The guy hasn't seen a piece of beef since he met my daughter so I figured I'd do it up 'flyover state' stylee.
This (poor bastard) young man comes from a family of judges and attorneys, heavily Democrat by the sound of it. While I applaud the Stainless Steel Amazons' choice, I cannot help but wonder what kind of bizarre political notions she's going to whip up for herself, just to be difficult. This is why I worry for the future of this relationship because she does this, oh my God, she does it and nobody knows why, least of all her.

Eighty times out of a hundred she is the soul of reason. Then there's that last twenty percent when she's just batshit off her rocker. And I don't mean anything as simple as 'I say black, she says white, 'contrariness either, no no no. It's a case of 'I say black, she accuses me of being racist. Or argues that there is no such thing as black because black is the absence of light and nobody can see without light so black doesn't exist and even to say the word black means you are hatefully ignorant and not worthy of breathing the same air.' Or she'll go completely off the deep end, give you the stinkeye and snarl 'what's wrong with my shoes?' So in a couple of weeks I expect to hear she's become a Workers' Party revised orthodox whig or something; a position she will argue to the death until the hormones wear off.
Poor fucker has his work cut out for him.

Anyway, here I sit, braless and blogging instead of rushing around like Mary Tyler Moore on amphetamines like I usually do the day we officially 'meet the boyfriend'. There's a bag of boughten (it is too a word) rolls on the counter. I might skin the potatoes before I mash them. I am a rebel, dammit!
I've reached the point that I just don't give a rusty rats' ass whether the guys she drags in think we're weird or not. What good has it done me in the past? None whatsoever. I've fed these dinks, I've been June Cleaver nice, I haven't worn the 'fuck off and die' t-shirt, I've boiled the entire house and so far it's turned out to be wasted sweat. So fine. He comes over, the titty mags are staying in the bathroom and devil take the fuckin hindmost if he can't hang with it. Judges son? Meet the hippie-ass biker mofos who raised your girlfriend. We listen to Vivaldi and we say FUCK* whenever we want because that's just how we roll.

And that smell is EXACTLY what you think it is.



*Actually the Yummy Biker was roaming around the house yesterday chirping 'Nipples!' randomly because it was cracking me up. I dared him to go out on the back porch and do it and he did, and there were kids riding bikes past on the sidewalk, and it was ugly. Behold the dire badness of our ruthless G !

15 comments:

  1. He He HE I cant wait to hear how it went , I can just see y'all on your best behaviour , does the SSA go bananas before dessert ?????

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  2. I don't go braless.

    I learned my lesson when they kept smacking my knee caps when I walked.

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  3. You talking about me?

    I did go read and I laughed the whole time reading. She is one funny writer.

    I can't wait to read the dinner updates. Don't hold back now.

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  4. Thanks for the shout-out on the story! You would not believe how dumb the ex's whole family is. Well, maybe you would.

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  5. This is calling out for a sequel, you know. I'll look forward to your report about how impressed he was. He's not still under the bed hiding, is he?

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  6. beast: her banananess is unpredictable. thats part of it's charm.
    awaiting: they're about ready to jump up out of the frame of your avatar there...i call bullshit!
    g: wilco
    fatty: not a problem!
    kristy: he better not be. ill have to send in the hounds.

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  7. FN sharing my house with a superb , unpredictable basket case like Mr C , I am a black belt at dodging 'The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune' where a simple question of would you prefer me to buy fish or chicken while I am stocking the fridge can prevoke an incident that makes the excorcist look reasonable....
    as I stagger off , dripping bile , clutching the torn out seat of my trousers and extinguishing my burning hair....thinking thats a no to the chicken then.....
    I empathise :-(

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  8. FN, that is the wonder of the WONDER bra!

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  9. I'm dying to know how it went! It reminded me of when my sister and I were in our 20's and our parents had a dinner party attended by my sister's boyfriend's parents (who were German and the dad was an ex-SS guard) and my boyfriend's mother who was Jewish and had to ski to her safety through the Alps (or some crap like that) during WWII. It was a fine party.

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  10. psst. "nipples!" is the new "wup!"

    pass it on.

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  11. Beast: i will lend you the whip and chair i used to use dealing with the SSA. DAYUM.
    awaiting: then i must worship your wonderbra. do they make one with fluid hydraulics? because thats what i need.
    carmentza: ok, now, you MUST BLOG THAT STORY. come on! oh my god, yes!
    cb: now I'm all confused. i thought grok was the new wok, or wup-nipples. or, oh fuck it.

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  12. whatever happened to the whigs, anyway?

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  13. Hahahahhah... Nipples....

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  14. Anonymous6:46 AM

    ONE yes I am crazy but YOU raised me.
    TWO goddamnit dad is really weird.
    THREE so I think that maybe it is better that you don't act all super chirpy and freaky Not-Mom-Like at these sort of things. For once, you didn't seem nervous, which didn't make me nervous. Ahhh. Yay for apathy! Also it is best to be our strange selves as a family unit so my weirdness is not seen as some sort of inorganic anomally.
    Anyhoooo, dinner was lovely and we had a good time.

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  15. I'm a rebel too knowing propaganda when I see it. I've read the techniques.
    I like to write letters to companys to stop building to death on every field they see.
    I like to be a rebel in my art as well. In the art world there are some rules that are stupid.
    I like the Matrix movie because of that rebel theme not doing what the majority do.

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