Monday, December 7, 2015

How To Make a Girl's Night Pinata

Everyone needs a chance to blow off steam. Some people go to the gym. Some people  organize their sock drawer. Some people beat defenseless pinatas. The following is a step-by-step guide to enjoying your own adult pinata.

 Go to your shed, garage, or basement, and find the pinata you've been hoarding for 20 years. Tell him, "Today you die." Feel bad and give him a hug.

Go to the liquor store and buy some mini bottles of booze. Make sure they are plastic and not glass. Do not fill your pinata with broken glass shards.

Purchase some candy. Don't be a prude and buy candy you hate, so that you won't eat it. Woman up and get your favorite candy. Get ready to stuff your fat face!

This is why $1 aisles were created. Yes, Target made their $1 aisle specifically for pinata stuffing. Get some girl stuff: perfume and lip gloss.

 Stuff the pinata's butt full of goodies.

Serious Baby does not approve.

Find some string, a tree, and a weapon. That is three steps, so take your time, or reread instructions if needed. If you can't find a bat, I suggest a tennis racket, a tire iron, or an umbrella. Basically, open your trunk and you'll find something.

When your pinata finally explodes, scream and throw your body on top of the goodies. Wrestle your friends for Butterfingers.

The aftermath. If you do it right, your pinata won't be the only one feeling like crap the next morning.

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Attack of the 3-Legged-Cat

Posted originally on Live Like A Cat Day

We set up our Christmas tree, and our Nativity scene, complete with toy store, a downed polar bear, a train, and a blanket of fake snow.

Biscuits has never jumped onto this table. She doesn't jump much, since she is shaped like a tripod. But, there has never been a blanket of fake snow on the table.

Biscuits thinks about the real meaning of Christmas.

She contemplates stealing the baby Jesus out of his manger. No Biscuits! Don't do it!

She decides to lay down on a railroad car instead.
Biscuits settles in for the long, cold, bone shattering, winter. Secure in the knowledge that she is queen of her own village.

Get off my lawn.

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Iceland Part 1

I got on a plane and flew to Iceland, alone, in October. On the seven hour journey there I sat next to a woman who kept changing her clothes: shirts, socks, shoes. On the return flight home, five days later, there she was again, one row behind me, getting undressed. I have a feeling she spent her entire vacation adding and removing layers of clothing.

The majority of Icelanders believe in elves. This gnome was preachin' outside a church near Vik. Almost every small town has a picturesque chapel.

The Blue Lagoon, a geothermal spa, was the reason I originally wanted to come to Iceland. It didn't disappoint. The milky silica water is just the right temperature, and the swim up bar, and in-water massages, are wonderful.

Tuborg is the local brew, and a welcome sight after realizing that my credit card, phone, and electronics were all not working upon arriving in Reykjavik. Why didn't I think that I might need a European adapter for my laptop? Duh.

The Northern Lights over Selfoss, Iceland. This was an awesome display, and I'm now a Northern Lights addict. I'm ready to travel the world in search of the best and brightest. I may have accidentally eaten one bite of a horse burger shortly after this photo was taken.

Oh, hello horses. Icelanders do enjoy eating horse...and sharks...and puffins. Once you get out of the city, there are lots of horses, and sheep, and....hopefully no one ate these guys.

Houses in Reykjavik. I spent a lot of time driving around the country, and not enough time exploring all the wonderful neighborhoods, shops, bars, and restaurants in town. Next time.

The view from Reykjavik's tallest building, the Lutheran Church.

It was fascinating to see strollers lined up outside cafes. Babies slept bundled and cozy while their parents enjoyed coffee and lunch.
Rainbow waterfall selfie.

Black sand beach at Vik.

My attempt at fancy dining. I only ordered soup, because $$$$$$$, but it came with a full basket of bread, which I gorged on and later regretted. Gluten overload.

Seljalandsfoss waterfall.

The best brewery tour ever. Did we even go into the brewery? I don't remember. Beer was outlawed in Iceland until 1989. They are currently making up for it.

Thursday, September 4, 2014

How to Sell Nude Paintings at Your Next Garage Sale

 1. Have at least one nude painting. I had three nude paintings,  all left over from my college art class days. Your paintings may be nude self portraits, and that's OKAY.

2. Make a conscious decision that you will never hang these paintings in your house. If you've had them for 20 years and you've never used them to decorate, this will be an easy decision. If you just painted your nude self portraits last night, and you can't wait to share them with the world, that's OKAY too.

3. Strategically place paintings away from the main area of your sale. It's impolite to casually mix nude women with broken blenders and your dog's old Halloween costumes. You need an X-Rated section. 

4. Scout out your customers. The Quaker women in long dresses and the neighbor's children may not be the right clientele for what you're peddling. What you need is some hipsters, hippies, or perverts.

5. Zero in on a middle-aged hippie couple sifting through a box of old paint brushes. Usher them into your X-Rated lair.

6.  Listen to the hippies tell you about their love of painting rainbows and pit bulls. They are searching for canvases. Wow, this is their lucky day! Awkwardly tell them that these are NOT self portraits. Sell your nudes for .25 cents each. Soon they will be painted over, living under a layer of windmills and sunsets.

7. Say goodbye to your naked ladies forever. Cry about it. Question the meaning of life. Shut down the garage sale and tell your remaining customers to, "GET LOST CRACKHEADS!"  Take your .75 cents and buy a Snickers bar at the gas station.