Forgotten Christmas Post

Mini Dutch Ovens

I got up this mornin' to go huntin' with my boyfriend, put on my coveralls and let out a fart.
That sun of a bitch lingered like an uninvited party guest . I accidentally gave myself a mini dutch oven and felt like I smelled like farts all day.
Aside from that, today was in fact my first time to go hunting with THIS particular boyfriend. (If I smelled like stewed toots, nobody said anything.)
We didn't see a single deer all day (except for the one that ran by the camp house while we were eating), but we had fun running dogs and mud riding. Some of the men from his huntin' club brought their little boys along and they are just hilarious to watch. One of the little boys thought I was the most amazing woman he'd ever met, simply because I carried a knife AND candy in my pocket. It almost made me want to have one. Except... I prefer my vagina nonstretched and my tits at their current elevation.

Read A Book, Asshole.

I took my dog to the vet.
I came home with my dog...plus three cats.
The veterinarian, who is supposed to love and SAVE the lives of animals, was going to put them to sleep if no one took them.
So I took them, eye infections and all. I have to doctor their eyes twice a day and one of them has a mysterious "fungus" on its tail. Fungus probably translates to "the mange" but it's fixed now.
And who cares if it never grows back. You never know when the rat tail will come back in style.
I named ol' bald tail "Boo" and my boyfriend asked if I meant Boo as in the term black people use to which I replied "Boo Radley. Read a book, asshole".
I've been cursing him a good bit lately. It could have something to do with the fact that I'm having to compete with his other mistress, deer hunting. I will be glad when hunting season is over.
It's like competing with a really ugly chick and not being able to understand why you're still not being picked when you so clearly have a better rack.
I guess a rack with two points is always overlooked for one with eight.

Loving Coversations

With Mom:

"How come you didn't get out of the house yesterday?"
"I have days where it is best if I don't hear, see or speak to anyone"
"What the hell kind of attitude is that"
"I call them my 'bi-polar days'"
"Bi-polar my ass."
"It's real easy to pass judgment there isn't it, Captain Zoloft"


With The Boyfriend:

"Are you wearing fake eyelashes?"
"Maybe."
"Take them off. You look like Phyllis Diller"
"...She was gorgeous, you bastard."

I don't smoke, do I?

Smoking is a habit I never picked up.
Cursing I do quite a bit of. Hair twirling...well, let's just say I have bald spots & short spriggly bits all over my head.
I even suck my tongue, but smoking I don't do. I used to smoke a cigar here and there, but only because I was trying to get the Mad Dog 20/20 taste out of my mouth .
Anyway, at 6:30 this morning I let my dog out, sat down on my front porch steps and thought
God, I need a cigarette.
It was as if I momentarily channeled my great aunt Irene. I even checked to make sure my teeth were still there and that I wasn't missing any toes. (long story)
I wonder what this means for me. I would rather have the habit of eating dog shit.
At least then I'd get a vitamin or two.

Food Network

Food Network has got it goin' on.
They've conjoined two of men's favorite things: women and food. They even have good ol' Paula Dean for men with a mommy complex. I'm not sure who the crap gets turned on by Barefoot Contessa, but she's married so obviously there's a market.
I switched on the Food Network earlier today whilst eating my Ready-made tuna salad in a can.
Sometimes I pretend I'm eating whatever they're making...to make whatever I'm eating seem less pathetic. Instead of tuna in a can with mysterious red 'n green bits, I theoretically ate seared steak, potatoes cooked in tasty lookin' brown stuff and a french pastry.
Aside from food, I noticed that all the women on these shows are either cute, cute with big boobs or, well, just have big boobs.
Dudes are totally watchin' this channel now. AND getting off on it.
"Oh yea baby, stir that Prosciutto"
I bet there are some guys that watch the food channel until their women get home and then they switch to ESPN and put a pillow in their lap. You know, the same guys that secretly watch Golden Girls and Supermarket sweep.
You know who you are.