OH NOES! Fat Woman Goes Shopping Again!

Yes.  There was a shopping trip to Target, which is one of my favorite places to taunt.  Next to Walmart, that is.  Walmart just asks for it.  I never see the people at Target that I see at Walmart.  Obviously there are some people wandering around Target that could be just as easily walking around Walmart, waiting for people to whip out their smart phones and take a picture, but I haven't seen them yet.  Maybe it's because I typically go to the store during the daytime and most Targets don't stay open 24/7.  (Some Walmarts do and the only time I remember taking advantage of that was when my daughter was an infant and she wouldn't go back to sleep.)

Obviously this person has an afghan dog.  Hey, I've never seen this
person at Target.

Anyway, we're prancing around Target.  (You might think that I mean figuratively speaking, but there was a point where Cressy and I were prancing.  HIM, the long-suffering man to whom I'm married wouldn't be caught dead prancing.)

And I wandered down the chips aisle.  I know I'm not supposed to go down the chips aisle.  Not legally, of course, but in the event that I have a chip craving of ginormous proportion, I'm not supposed to be there.  I don't know who invented potato chips but fat people everywhere are cursing them.

Instead of chips I found:

I find myself wanting to commend this company's marketing director.  Also I find myself wanting to hum "Boom Chicka Boom Boom" because I can't help it.  In my head it sounds just like a soundtrack of a sleazy porn movie.  (Not that I would know.)

But then I saw:

Do I need to say that this also wasn't chips.  Chex Mix has broadened its horizons.  Really.  Muddy Buddies.  I bet they won't sell this for long.

But I wasn't done with the chips aisle.  I found this, actual chips.  Well, allegedly actual chips.  I haven't opened them to see.  Yes, prodded by my only child I was forced to buy it.  She thought there were real voodoo dolls inside:

There are not real voodoo dolls inside.  Or voodoo doll shaped potato chips, which is very disappointing.

But I wasn't quite done with the chips aisle, for there was one more thing to catch my attention, which says a lot about me.

Yes.  Naked Pita Chips.  Stacy's Naked Pita Chips.  I think that Stacy meant that her pita chips were plain but I'm also certain that Stacy counted on people taking a second look at her pita chips.  I did not buy these.

So once I was done with the chips aisle, off we went to...dah-dah-dahhhhh...the toy aisle.

It's just not done to escape Target without visiting the toy aisle.  But don't fret because those tricky people at the toy companies are always coming up with toys that I can make fun of.  Really.

First there was weird tadpole/mermaid Lalaloopsy doll.  Why play with a mermaid when you can play with a freaky little tadpole creature?

I don't even need to say anything else about this because it stands for itself.  See on the top?  "Mermaid sleeps in pod!"  It's a little body snatcher right there in your Target Toy Department.

Of course, Target has been paying attention to the recent fascination with zombies as evidenced by this:

You're a complete doofenstein if you don't have a zombie strike nerf gun.  You need a zombie strike nerf gun.  Why?  Because zombies need to be nerfed.  I want a zombie strike nerf gun.  I won't be a complete woman unless I own a zombie strike nerf gun.  (And you thought women just wanted jewelry.)

But there were more dolls.  What the hella heck is up with half creature/half human dolls?  There was the little weird dog faced humans, who HAVE pet dogs, too.

Littlest Pet Shop is trying to expand its markets, too.

But My Little Pony couldn't be left out and they had half horsey/half human things too.

For $12.99 you can pretend gallop around and have three different changes of tails.  Hmm.

And I can't leave out Barbie, can I?  This model has a light up stomach dress.  Seriously, my daughter giggled.  You press some button and her dress goes all Broadway Billboard.  I forgot to look at the price of it because I was busy snorting.

Then they had this.  Yes, ladies, the original Batman.  Adam West, eat your heart out.  Not sure why kids would want an original Batman.  In fact, I think its only mommies and daddies who want an original Batman and Target can't put these dolls anywhere else.  I was just sorry they didn't have Robin.  Burn on Robin.

Robin got to be in the background.  Did anyone else practice "walking up the rope" on a wall and have their mother get pissed at them because they left footprints on the wall?  No?  Just me, then.  Mom was probably glad I hadn't figured out how to walk on the ceiling.

Then they had Catwoman.  Catwoman prompted a fight about who had been the original Catwoman.  I was going for Eartha Kitt and HIM was saying that Batman was out in the 80s.  Strangers in the aisles were staring at us.  (I think they wanted to throw in Halle Berry and Anne Hathaway but I stared them down.)  HIM had to look up Lee Meriwether and Julie Newmar.  The best one was Eartha Kitt.  (By the way, first Catwoman is Julie Newmar for those who can't help themselves.)

 

There was a freaky little doll with yarn hair that I envisioned the moron cat eating and having to visit a surgeon for removal. 

It even admits that it has loopy hair.

 

After going through all of the toy madness we went through the Halloween section and Cressy spent her allowance.  Seriously.

Yes, it's a foam geisha wig.  Cressy's going to wear it with her pink ninja outfit.  I'm not sure how that's going to work out but who am I to judge?  I was just glad that she hadn't seen the next thing.

 



Glow in the dark dog poop.  If you're going to have a dog go poo and you're out in the darkness, what better way to have glow in the dark dog poop?

 

But hey, at least I didn't have to put the hot dog costume on the moron cat, who refused to walk in it.  In fact, he was pretty pissed off about the whole thing.

 

Okay, that's enough until the next shopping trip.  Same bat time.  Same bat channel.

Randomtivity OR The Fun of Making Up Words! Burflemork!

I have been lagging on blogs.  I will blame it on Martian invasions, massive cat hair balls, HI nonsense, and a cold.  Some of that might even be true.

I have had THE COLD THAT WON'T GO AWAY.  It lingers and lingers and I had to go to the store to buy cough syrup that cost $20.  Seriously, they have cough syrup that cost $20 for one bottle.  They keep it behind the pharmacy desk and make you show them your driver's license and then they scan your driver's license.  Then they sell it to you.  But hey it works very nicely.  On the down side they probably think I have a meth lab in my garage.  Hah.  The only thing I know about meth is what I learned from Breaking Bad and I'm pretty sure that the local meth dealers watch that show for giggles.

And of course, that meant that I had to go Googling for stuff.  Who wants to see Walter White playing with puppies and rainbows?

Anyway, my daughter's moron cat decided to afford me with immeasurable amounts of entertainment when he carried in a cockroach from the deck.  The moron cat thinks all prey must be captured and delivered to the humans, whether we like it or not.  We cut him out of the garage so he can't get any more mice so cockroaches are coming in an enthusiastic second.  He certainly doesn't want to eat it but hell yes, it's fun to watch it skitter around the living room and look what the fat human does!  She levitates into a chair and swings a fly swatter around.  Okay then HIM, who is my hero, takes care of business and the cockroach gets introduced to our sewage system.

It doesn't sound bad, right?  But the moron cat saw where the bug went.  He was determined to get his paws on it again and didn't mind that I had my droid handy.

How many pictures do you take of the cat hanging over the side of the toilet?  I mean, it's a first for me and I had to go with it.

I couldn't help myself.

This is why God invented autosketch programs.

You'd think I'd run out after a while, but no-oh.  People are throwing themselves in front of my droid.  I swear.  Here's an example.  I allowed HIM to take Cressy shopping and this is the hat she came back with.  (HIM sure as hell wasn't wearing one, so you know he knew better.)

It's the butt end of a turkey and she's wearing it on her head.  She likes it.  She's been wearing it all day.  I'm not sure exactly what to say.  But the image of Hector ringing his little bell comes to mind.

And you have to have watched the Breaking Bad scene where Gus Fring gets it to understand this, but hey, it works for me.  Better than another photo of the moron cat looking at the floating cockroach in the potty.

Well, one more.

The Ransom of Brownie

 

It started out as a nice day.  Then Brownie happened.  Watch out, Pegram County! 

Brownie has returned to the Snoddy Estate.  His mother is seven months pregnant, ordered to bed rest and in desperate need of Brownie-free time.  So off Brownie goes to visit the Texas Snoddys!  It’s the middle of November, he’s ten years old, and they’ve taken away his homemade Taser.  How much trouble could there possibly be?

Two men have decided to kidnap Brownie for the rumored Civil War gold the Snoddys reputedly have.  And that was their mistake, because no one with a brain in their head kidnaps Brownie Snoddy.

No one.

The Ransom of Brownie is book 4.5 in the Bubba series, taking place after Bubba and the Mysterious Murder Note.  It is about 41,500 words long.

 

Buy it on Amazon here.

 

Buy it on B&N here.

 

Buy it on Smashwords here.

Reasons Not to Blog OR I'm Pooped

When I first started the blog, it was three times a week.  I was totally into it.  Then it slipped to twice a week.  Then it slipped to once a week.  Now it's slipping again.  So today, I said to myself, "I should blog."  But then I added, "But I don't want to."  In the immortal words of Nancy Kerrigan, "Why me?  Why me?  Why me?"

Possibly it's because I spent the weekend taking care of the kid who is sick and who passed it to me.  I now have razor blade throat and the kid wants to go to the last day of the fair tomorrow.  I may die.  There you go, a reason not to blog.

But hey, I could totally come up with better reasons not to blog.

1.  Here's an old one but still relevant.  A meteor fell on my house/dog/cat/computer.

It could totally happen.

2.  My cat ate my computer/puked a hairball on my computer/or me/my cat decided that I wasn't permitted to use the computer.

 

See.  Again.  Perfectly plausible.

 

3.  Doing blogs can cause genital warts.  The surgeon general said so.  (Maybe.)

 

Doesn't that look like a picture of a woman who would tell you that?  I think so and then it was pointed out to me that she wasn't the surgeon general anymore, which explains why I haven't seen her in the news lately.  Anyway, Koop was always my favorite.  For his name and his mustacheless state.  (Does anyone know that he died?  I need to watch the news more.  Who is the surgeon general lately?)

 

3.  I lost my computer.  It's true.  It was on my desk.  Then there were some other things on my desk and pretty soon my desk was a big pile of papers and weird books.  (There's a Fiji mermaid and a maneki neko sitting on my desk, sitting next to a Bubba name made out of fake deer antlers.  Swear to God.  My desk is the repository of all things lost.)  (Actual conversation last week.  HIM: Have you seen this receipt?  Me: It's on my desk.  HIM: We're fucked.)  (A maneki neko is one of those good luck cats that waves its arm.)

This is supposed to be lucky, but it's obviously
not lucky for my desk.

4.  My aunt/cousin/step-sister/brother-in-law once removed died.  It was a moving ceremony.  Many people cried.

 

I want to go to that funeral.  Did you know you can buy caskets at Costco?  I didn't know that.  I wonder if one would fit into my Explorer.

 

5.  I was mugged by evangelical atheists.  (Well someone had to mug me.  I was just picking them out of a group.)

Stuck on the funeral theme.  This picture says a lot.  Funeral plus Corona.  I hope they have a crate of limes behind the beer.  And chips.  Definitely going to need some chips.

 

6.  I was kidnapped by terrorists, who eventually got tired of my whining and let me go.

 

I couldn't find any funny pictures of terrorists but there was this vintage sign about being buried in Florida and without tax, too.  Read the small print where it says "How to Kick the Bucket Gracefully".  That's an advertisement.

 

7.  I had to bail HIM/Cressy/Mother/Father/Mother-in-Law/Cousin's sister's husband out of jail.

Still on that funeral theme.  It might be (wait for it) a long time before (wait for it) it dies a peaceful death.  Damn.  I just lost several readers right then.  I'd like to see Ahh-norld carrying a casket for real.

 

8.  My flash drive exploded.  My house was being fumigated.  The president called to get my opinion on some important matter of state.  It was stolen by zombies.  (Hey, I had to do a zombie reference.)

 

Anyway.  Look at that.  I wrote a blog.