The Rest of the Story...

So here it is.  The reason behind the cryptic message requesting your awesome.  I needed this dress.  On the cheap, no less.  And don't you know it only took me two Goodwills to find it.  And it was only $5!  Holler!

So to ease your troubled minds, here is The REST of the STORY: (you said that all Paul Harvey-like right? Good.) 

(*Plus 10 cool points for those of you who made my day and tried to guess the answers.  I heart you.)

Alright, so I'm looking for a dress that is required for a 50's party that is coming up in the next couple of weeks. As long as it fits the theme and doesn't have a poodle on it (because I HATE POODLES! DISLIKE!), then it'll work. Oh, and it can't cost more than $20. Follow?

My BFF's parents' 30th wedding anniversary was this month, so their wonderful children threw them a fantastic surprise 50's themed sock hop.  And because my BFF is a bit theme party obsessed and would likely fight me in the parking lot if I even dared consider not dressing up, I began the hunt for The Outfit.  And you guys?  Costumes are expensive, yo!  My initial plan was to go sort of 50's housewife a la Stepford, but don't you know that's impossible to do without spending $150 on a Vintage Frock or whatever.  BFF was all on the whole poodle skirt bandwagon, and, just...no.  I couldn't do it.  On principle!  I cannot have a poodle on my person!  I cannot! (My sincerest apologies to those of you who have poodles that you love and cherish and who provide you with the companionship you so deserve.  I am very happy for you and your poodle because although I DISLIKE! them, I do not want any harm to befall them and am happy that you are providing them with love and care.  But please, keep it over there away from me and don't make me look at it.  But still, happy for you.)

So yeah, poodle skirt is not an option, and I found several that had other appliques like records or music note which is fine, however, they all cost like 30 bucks.  Which I know is not outrageous or anything, but y'all, I still don't have a j-o-b and 50's costume was never in the "Food, Clothing, Shelter" list of needs my Dad raised us with.  So sorry non-poodle skirt.  You will not be coming home with me.  On my second Goodwill trip, I found the above dress. WOO HOO!  It was a couple of sizes too small so I had to cut the seam all the way to the waist in the back to allow for all the breathing stuff that the medical community insists is so important.  But I'd say it worked quite well.  Except that it smelled like a Goodwill and I forgot to wash it until the day of the party and it's made of really high quality classy rayon so it was all DRY CLEAN ONLY and yeah right so I threw it in the sink with lingerie soap to do some handwashing.  And then I was in such a hurry to not be handwashing this dress that I didn't exactly rinse it all the way so instead of smelling like a Goodwill, I smelled dinstinctly like a 90 year old woman IN a Goodwill.  So there's that.

My lovely friend, Amanda, loaned me her cute little white shrug, and I got the ribbon for my hair and the waistband for like $3 or something at a fabric shop. Then there were the shoes. The adorable, pinching, suffocating, blister making shoes I had to borrow.  See, the party was an hour and a half away from where I live so I was getting ready at a friend's house nearby. I bought some faux Keds at Wal-Mart to wear with these little white bobby socks.  Don't you know I was all ready to go before I realized I left my shoes at home.  An hour and a half away.  I yelled a few words I think.  I can't be sure.  But my darling friend had these cute pair of Steve Madden pumps with a kitten heel, and because I didn't see myself strutting into this party with my Asics on, I figured I'd have to make them work.  Here's the thing:  I wear a 9 1/2 shoe.  Except in Steve Madden's, which I have to wear a 10, and even then there is zero wiggle room.  The shoes she loaned me?  Were a 9.  Sometimes, you just have to commit to the character.  I wore them and danced and twirled and laughed all night about how agonizingly tight they were because apparently my Self thinks that kind of thing is funny.

And then we went home and drank orange juice while reading the news and making sarcastic comments.  Because that's what they did in the 50's.

Welcome Wagon...

I thought y'all might like to see what I see when I pull into my carport....

It's the highlight of my day. :)

It is well with my soul...

Or more specifically:

Know what I mean?

I was never here....

So this is a post about a secret that I can't really talk about because it is a surprise and in no way do the people/persons involved EVER read this blog or even know about it, but you know the one time I post something of a surprisey nature will be the ONE time people/persons will stumble across this little page right?  However, I desperately need your collective good thoughts for a mission I am on so I am going to be explain it with lots of blanks so as not to ruin the surprise for the people/persons who aren't reading this k?

Alright, so I'm looking for a _____ that is required for a ______ that is coming up in the next ______.  As long as it fits the ______  and doesn't have a ______ on it (because I HATE ____! DISLIKE!), then it'll work.  Oh, and it can't _____ more than _____. Follow?

Now, you're mission, should you choose to accept it, is to muster up all the prayers, positive thinking, and good vibrations that you can, and send them out into this giant world, particularly concentrating them towards the Goodwill down the street, if you don't mind.  And hopefully, with our combined powers of AWESOME, I will find the necessary _____ for the _____.

Thank you for your time.

**This blog will self-destruct in 30 seconds.**

Titled Two Days Later...

Okay, well you know how trying to think of how to start these darned blog things off can sometimes be just a big pain in the rump?  Like, you're driving around and have this idea for what you're going to write about but somehow it's so random and not really as elaborate as you need it to be or whatever so a kick off sentence is nowhere to be found?  And so next thing you know you're lying in your bed with your laptop staring you in the face and you're so tired that the monitor is kind of making you blink your eyes too much because it's so bright?  And then you're sort of lecturing your brain for being so INCAPABLE OF LEARNING and not remembering to just blog during the day already instead of trying to tell a story after cerebral closing time? You know?

I have some dog park stories to tell you about, but we're going to cover that another time because of the tired (see above).  But for now, I do need to tell you guys about Walgreens and how we are no longer on speaking terms. I'm sorry to bring all my relationship troubles to the table, but some things just need to be said. I'm not sure how many of you are aware of a little thing called Easter candy.  Have you heard of it?  In some cultures it is known as "a reason for living."  Sound familiar?  Well, as I'm sure you know, there are certain yummy things that come out ONLY for the Easter season. Which, by the way, might awaken an undeniable sense of urgency in some people (me) and cause them to almost knock over an old lady in the grocery line because she was blocking the last mini bag of candy (also me). 

The past few days I've been feeling kind of crummy.  I didn't really know exactly what was causing it until this morning when I noticed my car was completely coated in the familiar yellow dust of the pollen.  Ugh.  Allergies anyone?  So after a few errands and ALOT of time at the dog park amidst some nice polleny trees and dirty, polleny dogs, I was not in fighting shape.

After doing a few things around the casa, I was sprawled out watching Tuesday night Office reruns (3 hours of The Office on TBS! I love Tuesday Office night!). At about 8 p.m., my self decided that nothing sounded better than Cadbury Mini Eggs at that moment.  Now just to be clear I'm not talking Cadbury Creme Eggs, which are the ones with the chocolate outside and creme stuff in the middle that divides families.  I'm talking the tiny little solid cadbury chocolate eggs with the delightful candy shell (not unlike m&m's, except totally unlike m&m's).

So yeah, self is all CADBURY MINI EGGS!

But I'm still polleny and dog park dusty and horizontal and I still need a shower so I told self NO! 

Then self says Oooooh ice cream! 

Me: Polleny! Dusty! Horizontal!

Self:  What if...you put the Cadbury Mini Eggs...IN the ice cream?

Me: .......  I'll get my keys.

Right?!  How smart is my self sometimes?! (And I would like to just say, that I think we - society, as a whole - do mix enough things with ice cream.  Think about that today when your mind wanders.)

My plan was just to drive down the street to Walgreens, get the ice cream/mini eggs, and get right back home before the cranky part of me realized what just happened.  But don't you know Walgreens and it's rude ways had other plans?  Not a single Mini Egg. Anywhere. At all.  There was, however, a little sale sign that said Cadbury 2/$4.  WHAT the WHAT?  Why you gotta be all in my face like that Walgreens?  Can't you see that I'm here all heartbroken in your Reason For Living aisle, and you're going to just throw it in my face that not only is the candy gone, but it's gone because of a SALE that I missed.  That's just cold.

Now normally, I would've just gone to another store (yeah, take THAT Walgreens!), but there was only an hour and half of Tuesday Office night left, and missing any more than I had already was just not an option.  So I settled for a small pint of Mint Chocolate Chip (YUM!) and a couple of Gold Brick Eggs.  And, I mean, Gold Brick Eggs are nice and all, but I think we all know that Mini Eggs are made of hugs from baby angels, and really, how can you compare the two?  Apples to oranges.  Bricks to baby angels.  It just doesn't compute.  Sigh.

So whatever, the point is Gold Brick Eggs, when eaten in an agitated state, will make you feel like death, but Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream is always, always there for you.  That, and Walgreens is a dodo-head.

For the Inquiring Minds....

The Mac 'n Cheese pizza is literal keeping it real mac n cheese.  Cheddar and all.  Make it just like you'd make it at home (not the Kraft stuff though...sorry) and throw it on a regular pizza crust apparently.  Life = changed.  You're welcome.

Also, it can be found in it's natural habitat for viewing/tasting parties at CiCi's Pizza. 

Go forth and be merry my friends.

Geez Louise...

It seems every time I want to tell you guys about something and work up draft #1 in my head, the next thing I know, I'm all tired and fussy and I just don't wanna go through all the typing and posting and stuff. I mean, it's hard work getting my thoughts all filed in an organized fashion and then lined up just so in the disembark area and then loosing them while trying to eloquently throw them out here for you to make sense of.  Who has that kind of energy when the whole day is said and done and all that and so on and so forth?  And on occasion when I'm just so blinky tired but my systems are not entirely ready to power down, I'll decide to read some of your lovely stories instead.  But here's what happens when I try to execute that plan of action.  You are all too lovely and funny and I find myself relaxing more and more and more as I read, and then don't you know I'm too tired to comment.  Isn't that just the saddest thing you've ever heard?  It really is, isn't it. 

Did any of that make sense?  Does it matter?  If you want the truth, the only reason I am writing this is because I really wanted to tell you about the Mac 'n' Cheese Pizza I had the other day.  Mac 'n' Cheese!  On a pizza!  Have you ever heard such nonsense in your whole life?  And I tell you this:  Best. Pizza. Ever.  I don't know why I've never thought of this before?  Why haven't you?  Why hasn't America?  I mean, you guys, this kind of awesome was beyond my scope of comprehension. I ate four whole pieces.  FOUR!  

It wasn't regular elbow macaroni though.  (Thank you to Google for helping me figure out that it was Cellentani pasta.) So cheesy cellentani pizza thrown on a pizza crust.  No sauce. No other bells or whistles.  Mac. Cheese. Pizza crust.  Amen.

And it was all pizza buffet and stuff and don't you know while we were sitting there with piece #2, this whole busload of high schoolers walk in the door.  Panic!  I ran up to the buffet and grabbed the last 2 pieces. There is no way the appetite of a high school dude is going to be able to resist the magic of the PizzaMac.  But don't worry.  I took care of it and polished off every bite of it. 

So.  There you have it.  PizzaMac = life changing.  Bet your glad I stayed awake long enough to tell you about it.  You're welcome.

Goodnight.