Carnie

I may have mentioned that I work in an onvention-cay enter-cay in south Louisiana.  Most of the events we get are boring, meetings, parties, that sort of thing.  Occasionally, we get the joy of a dance recital (and nothing is cuter than little girls tapping in the hall outside of my office). 

And then, we have the unusual.

Yesterday, we hosted an ircus-cay.  I'm going to tell you, we have one every fall, but that one is in a big tent out front.  The highlight of that is when an elephant walks by our outside window.  But yesterday's entire event was inside my building.  And you haven't lived until you open a door and find yourself eyeball-to-eyeball with a big, giant elephant.  They have pretty, snuffaluffacus eyelashes, by the way.

And then, there was a tiger.  Deeming it too hot to leave him outside, they put his cage in our back hallway.  I was afraid of being sprayed on by him, but not so afraid that I didn't slip past his cage so I could see his big, sweepy-weepy wittle face.  He was gorgeous.

My favorite critter, though, was the zebra.  Zig Zag was his name, and he was a part of the petting zoo, although his cage was clearly marked with "Zebra May Bite" (I mean, who puts a bitey animal in a petting zoo?)  Identifiying this as a risk, I spent the vast majority of the day hanging out with Zig.

Look.  Isn't he so pretty?  He was a sweetheart.  A bitey sweetheart.  I love him.  I want him.  I tried to talk them into letting me have him, and I got pretty close, but at the end, not so much.

He loved me, too.  I think that's abundantly clear.

In this picture, you can vaguely make out an elephant in the back of the room, and this, of course, was a llama.  Llamas have terrible teeth, in case you were wondering.

Despite having to work eight hours on a Sunday, something that I usually do not care for, this was a pretty fucking fun day.  I also held a baby emu, upside down, by the feet.  Make no mistake, if it had tried to peck me, I'd have had no trouble at all snapping it's tiny emu neck and cooking it into an emu gumbo.  Just saying.

Someone else would have had to pluck its feathers, though.

And, I got hit on by a carnie, someone who actually said, "I wish I had met you years ago," prior to asking me if I wanted to show him my office.  Um, no thank you.  He DID have all of his teeth, but his role was simply to sell popcorn, which makes him pretty much the lowest man on the ircus-cay career ladder, wouldn't you say?  I mean, he had to wear a red-and-white striped shirt.

So that's pretty much a weird day at work.  And Happy Father's Day.  But I'm still thinking about the elephant shit in our side hallway carpet...

Minutes Taker

We have this Big Bored (that's an intentional misspell, thanks so much), that meets every month.  This morning was an instance of that meeting.  I am required to take "minutes" at this meeting, wherein I write down the first 30% of what they say before I zone out and start to think about other stuff.  Sometimes I write stuff like this at these meetings:

- Melissa -
   - blah blah blah great stuff rah rah rah

True story.  Today, though, was worse than usual.  Lasted about 2 hours, part of which was spent talking about God Only Knows What (although I know it was about bond refinanc...snooooooooooze).

And then this old dude, the one I refer to sometimes as my at-work-boyfriend, because he's probably around 70 but he likes to wink at me (frequently)?

He said the following:

"I felt like a turd in a punchbowl."

Ho.Ly. Shit.  That's a good turn of phrase.

I've never heard that before, but the internet sure has.  Even has pictures:

This is my joy.

Also, I'm kind of revolted.  But mostly joyful.

Mother of a future investment planner. Is there money in that?

Last night, we went to my folks' house for supper (namely, supper that I cooked, but whatever, man, I didn't have to buy it.  So all good.)

While we were at the table, my somewhat-in-the-wine mother asked Doodlebug what he wants for his birthday (which is in just a couple of weeks.)

"mmmm...," he said, thinking...

"I WEAWY WIKE Transformers.  Or how about a savings bond?"

I kid you not.  My kid is planning his future.

I'm pretty sure I'm getting the kid some transformer stuff.  You can handle the savings bond, right?

Cat Mom

Well.  So.  I have had a cat for pretty much my entire life, unless you don't count the times wherein I've had more than one cat.

Priscilla (Presley) moved into my home in the fall of 2004.  Before I got married, before the baby was even considered.  When she moved in, she was already several years old.  Pretty sure this year made 16, for her.

Pretty cat, a bit overweight, mostly a good attitude.  At times, she would completely lose her shit and bite me, but only me, never the boys.

Much of her life these last several years was spent sitting near enough to me to be within earshot.  She didn't necessarily want to be ON my lap, but she definitely knew where I was, all the time.

When she was a bit younger, she would bother to, you know, lift her head.  If ham was a possibility.  Cat digs ham.

About 2 years ago, she was diagnosed with Thyroid cancer.  Make no mistake, that big sucks, but if your cat has to get cancer, this is the way to go.  She had to have medicine every day, to calm her overactive thyroid down, which we smashed up and put into wet cat food.  Fatty did NOT mind.

It worked pretty well, for a long time.  But...  in the last few months, we have noticed a decline.  For one thing, her whole back half hurt and she would fuss you if you touched it.  For another, the goiter in her neck had gotten to be about the size of... what?  I don't know.  between grape and golf ball.  Use your imagination.

The vet was all, "hey, pay $4000 and get her surgery," or "hey, pay $4000 and get her irradiated."  I was all, "hey, that's crazy talk."

Lately, she started having pain when she pooped.  Know how I know?  It made her cry.

So there really was only one okay thing to do.

She went to sleep forever on Saturday.  I was talking to her, petting her at the time.  Beanie was there, too.

She crapped on my leg when the first sedative kicked in.  I like that she got to still make me her bitch.

It was sad.  She'll be missed.  I cried like a bitch.  She has long been one of my very best friends.

She washed my face every night (gross.), including Friday night.  I'll miss that. 

The baby was looking forward to making a list of instructions for God for her, but then he forgot, as he should.  He is five.  And besides, we gave him a distraction...

This is Rosie, Rosanna (Arquette).  She's pretty fucking cute.  She's no Sparklecat, but she has potential...

Little Lush

You know how to guarantee that I will have a good birthday?  Give me beer.  A LOT of beer.

It was a great weekend, though, seriously.  I came really damn close to maintaining a buzz, straight through.

Friday night, I don't even remember.  I know I drank beer.  I don't remember doing anything else, so I think I probably just watched television.  Who cares?  It was fun.

Saturday, we went to Baton Rouge to watch my nephew's dance recital, which was outstanding.  Some of the dances were really remarkable, and some of them were adorable, and yes, a few were a little boring, but my very funny brother sat next to me and made me giggle.

And we got there in time for a beer before the big show.

And then we went to my brother's house, and drank more.  Oh, glorious.

And my brother fried fish and potatoes and hush puppies, and it was the Best Dinner Ever.  Yum.

On Sunday, I had to get up early for church, but that was all right.  After church, I felt a little groggy and a little hungover, so I ate some Taco Bell and took a nap, and then my friend Melissa called to ask us to come over and sit by her pool and drink daquiris.  Yes, please.  Hair o' the dog.

The baby and I sat over there for about six straight hours.  It was so, so, so fucking nice.

And then there was Sister Wives and Mad Men.  You know what is better than a Sunday?  NOTHING.

Monday was about chilling out, doing some house work, stuff like that.  And then my mother called and asked us over for a boat ride and to cook out.  Yes, please.  And so we did that.

And drank beer.

Tell me what could better?  Not a goddamn thing.

It's awfully nice to turn 32.

My name is Sarah, and I have a good life.  A good, good life.

Fifty Shades of What the Fuck?

So there's this book, this Fifty Shades of Gray book, that everybody is talking about.  My friend T-Rex's friends, mainly 20-30 year olds, are gushing with how much they love it, but the internet has accused it of being completely awful.

"Mommy porn" is one way I've heard it described.

Not for nothing, but my friend Melissa has told me that you can download your fill of porn books on the kindle, if that's your thing.  I gather it is a little like reading the letters of Penthouse, or those goddamn "Silhouette" romance novels I read when I was twenty, while I drank wine coolers.

What's going on here?  I mean, I couldn't even watch "The 40 Year Old Virgin" because I got sort of grossed out by the concept and the scene with the morning wood.  Perhaps I am a giant prude.

Rather unrelated, for Mother's Day, Beanie bought me (his newly single mother) a giant "body pillow," that just so happens to have a slightly furry, black pillowcase on it.  I like to call it Tyrone.  I have lots of fun thoughts about the baby reporting how "mommy sleeps with Tyrone every night," and how he himself "wikes to cuddle Tyrone."

This is the good life.

Additionally, my other son made me a card, as one does in Kindergarten, shaped like a teapot.  Inside, he had taped a bag of tea.

"I picked out what kind of tea to give you.  I gave you 'Sweet Dweams' so you can sweep a wong, wong time."

Holy shit.  It's arsenic tea.

Sweet and creepy, all at once.

My daughter-in-faux, being a girl, did up a really nice basket, with a journal and a notepad and some bits of jewelry and a pretty soap, with a dragonfly on it.  Perfection.  Girls rock.

And...  I'm just going to throw it out here... my birthday is in two days.  I'm actually turning 37, but I think I'll claim 32.  I feel sure I can get away with that.

Party Girl

This weekend was SOOOOOO busy, y'all.  I was busy like Katy Perry.  Or something.  But I felt really good about it.  Check it...

On Friday, I got invited to join my sweet old lady, whom I love, at a very classy party, one of the premier events of the season in this town.  Truth be told, it's a party I have watched from the ground (being that it is on a rooftop) for years, always envying those in attendance.

I wore the itty bitty black dress, again, and I looked foxy.  REALLY.

So did my old lady.
T-Rex says our back-to-back picture is magazine quality.  Not sure about all that, but I looked cute.  So whatevs.

Anyway, I was a little bit nervous until the mother of one of my friends (the girl below, actually) came up to me early-on and said, "I just have to tell you, you look wonderful."  Which was pretty much a night-maker.

Until the same girl's husband used the word "beautiful," that is.  Girl felt HOT.  And I am fully aware that this girl is among the cutest people in the history of time, and yet I let myself be photographed WITH HER.  Because I am both brave and stupid, and had a few beers.

All good.

Anyway.

It was a fun night, and there were lots of fancy people there, and the music was great, and I did not dance in public, so that's a big win-win-win.  Oh, and there was so much (delicious) food that I didn't even get to try all the food I wanted to try, because I got full first.  LAMEASS.

On Saturday, I wasn't really planning on doing anything, but then a friend was all, "hey, you coming to the concert in the park?" and I was all, "okay."  So I did.  Me and the doodlebug, and it was great because they had all of these things that little kids could build and paint and there were alligators they could hold, and everything.  BADASS.  And I like those people, too, and I also, well, looked good.

Here's right after I finished blowing dry my hair.  Mostly, I just want to show off my pretty shoulders and the cool cut of this shirt.  I was making a goofy face.  Forgive me.

I think I might wear that shirt every time I do anything social for the next year.  It was a very cool shirt.

So the weather was PERFECT for an outdoor concert, and the doodle and I had fun.  Me, because I like drinking beer outside.  Him, because there was a nice shady spot for him to sit in while he played with his new Nintendo DS (courtesy of "Nannee 'Lisa, who is nis.").



While he did that, I did this:

Ahhhhh, Louisiane.  I do love you.

So.

On Sunday, of course, we went to church, but then, it was beach time!  And you may or may not know/care, but I recently purchased a bikini, and the beach to which I go is frequented by big fatasses from Mississippi, who wear bikinis, so I figured I would fit in just fine.

And so.

First time my tummy has felt the sun since I was, say, five.

And I got a LOT of sun.

I would say this is pretty much an ideal weekend-before-my-birthday.

I'm turning 37.  People keep guessing 32.  People are terribly nice.

I hope you had a nice weekend, too.