September 8th, 2009 | 20 Comments »

I may have mentioned that I brushed the dirt off the bathroom scales a while back and was surprised to discover that I had lost 25 pounds. You may have wondered “How the hell does that even happen?” to a woman who spends most of her days in pajamas. Because, clearly, elastic waistbands just beg for expansion of the waist. And really, who knows? Physio means more exercise, less pain=MUCH less wine to manage pain. Like none. Wine is strictly recreational now, as it should be.

So I got mildly giddy and got me some of those mid-rise jeans and a few tops to go with them, so I could have something non-elastic to wear outside the house on errands, and of late, on twitter meetups in my local area. Enough of the pajamas for me, yessir.

I was proud to be shopping and to forgo the purchase of pajamas, which has been my favourite article of clothing to buy. Working apparel. Business attire. Gotta look good on the phone, you know?

That plan pleased me.

Until.

I was in the kitchen in front of the fridge. This would be the kitchen with a bigass window, which was open to all the social goings on of the neighbours in the back yard. Can you see where this might be heading? No? I so suck at foreshadowing. Let me put you out of your misery.

My drawahs fell down to my ankles as I was standing there with my hands full of dinner ingredients. And my glorious, white bread, flat arse was exposed to all and sundry who were hanging out in the yard, or even possibly passing by on the sidewalk.

I mean, aren’t elastic waisted pajama bottoms supposed to be self-adjusting? I hadn’t given it much thought until the waistband FAIL.

The drawahs were stepped out of, laundered, and put aside with others I immediately drop tested. My awesomely warm polar fleece jammies with the periwinkle background and all the cute sleepy moons and stars on them. A goofy pair of red polar fleece with penguins. Warrior Woman agreed to give them a home. When she travels, her colleagues have these goofy pajama contests, and she thought these might qualify. She was really holding out for the jobbies with big honking frogs on a pink background, a pair that even makes me wince with the fugly.

So a few days ago, she accompanied me on my quest for polar fleece jammies THAT WOULD NOT FALL DOWN EXPOSING MY BARE ARSE. And lo, it was good, for I bought many pairs.

And I presented Warrior Woman with the freshly laundered fugly green frog jammies, because, oh, how she coveted them in the work fugly jammie competition.

I caught her hints for my green, red, and white HOHOHO jammies, but I’m holding out on those bad boys. They have the drawstring type waist. Totally adjustable.

Back away from the HOHOS, beetch.

March 19th, 2009 | 13 Comments »

Inspiration. It comes to me from yarning while guzzling delicately sipping on a lovely red wine with friends. I keep a notebook beside me to jot blog post ideas on it.

Note the elegant wine stains. I’m all about the class.

I print the really good ones so I can read them the next day. My handwriting? Not so easy to decipher. Most of these ideas came from stories I told Warrior Woman. Oh, how we laughed at the time!

I just noticed that none of them are about poop or even farts. Well, technically, pussyfarts are about farts. They just aren’t the first thing you think of when you think of farts.

I sometimes wonder if I’m actually an 8 year old boy child. Heh.

Anything there you want to read about?

December 16th, 2008 | 19 Comments »

What did I have for supper Sunday evening?

Strawberry Twizzlers.

They’re cheap, very filling, and require no cooking.

I’m kind of in a twizzler blogging mode.

Even a visit from Warrior Woman (bearing wine) elicited no bloggable stories this time. Or maybe the wine made me forget them.

After a few hours, I felt guilty that I hadn’t fed her. (She brought wine, people!) so called for takeout from a nearby establishment.

That was the extent of my cooking ambition.

September 30th, 2008 | 13 Comments »

You remember shit mittens, don’t you? Yeah, me too.

Shortly after posting that, Warrior Woman was enjoying my cooking, lubricated with a bottle of wine she brought over, when I spied a good-sized spider on my ficus tree.

In the past, I had gently escorted spiders out of my house. That was before I encountered the swift and nasty bite of the recluse spider that had taken up residence here.

I knew it wasn’t a recluse in my ficus, but I approached it with a murderous glint in my eye. All in house spiders now have a death sentence on their heads. Don’t be hatin. Warrior Woman is wicked afeared of spiders, so she did not object. Not even a little.

I also spied two empty potato chip bags, just minding their bidness in my wastebasket. I did a mini dumpster dive and emerged with one on each hand.

Thus was born chip mittens. With a clap of my hands, I dispatched the critter, and Warrior Woman breathed easier as I escorted the remains outside.

There are lots of contests going on right now. If you want in on some, why, just go visit these sites.

I followed a commenter to this site, and lo and behold there was an ipod shuffle up for grabs. I’ll comment after publishing this post.

And then there is Laura of I am the Diva. I wuv her. She is giving away a Zunes player. That’s like an ipod for PC users.

For those who are more into handbags than tunes, there is a fabulous launch of planet handbag, where they are giving away 24 bags in 24 hours on October 15.

See? I take away life from an innocent creature, but I’m still all about the giving. Chip mittens.

September 19th, 2008 | 20 Comments »

Warrior Woman has let it out of the bag that I’m hosting a pajama party tomorrow night. There may be strippers. Male strippers, silly.

Pajamas, food, wine, and bunks for those unable to drive home was the original plan.

Let me explain my love of pajamas. When I was a little kid, we were always allowed to open one present on Christmas Eve. Mom handed us a particular prezzie, and it was always a new pair of jammies. The wonderful feeling of going to bed with brand new flannel jammies while being softly bathed in the exterior window lights was pretty near magical.

Bonus! For the Christmas morning pictures, we may have had disheveled hair, but the jammies! New!

I went shopping while I was away this summer. Yes, I had to get new moisturizer and the like, but the only clothing items I bought were jammies.

Wherever I go, the first thing I do when I get back in the house is yank off the hated bra and pull on a clean pair of jammies. Bliss!

So, a pajama party?

That’s just me in my regular clothes with a buncha women.

Don’t go turning me into the Oprah show as a slumpadinka. I won’t go. Besides, I have fabulous hair.

And the strippers? Weren’t even on my radar. That was the brainchild of one of the women coming to the party. I wasn’t consulted. Frankly, strippers make me a bit uncomfortable.

We will have to take up a collection to get Ass Burger Boy out of the house if they show up.

Oy!