Monday, April 26, 2010

Swine Divine

On Saturday we took a sunny drive to Pinal County's Pork Shop. If you're a close friend of mine (Stephanie and mi Madre), you know I can't stand meat, especially swine in any variety. I was a vegetarian in high school and lived on Del Taco bean and cheese burritos for about 4 years. But I married a T. rex, a total carnivore, a man who could live on meat alone, who just this morning sawed apart a sausage log and ate it for breakfast. I've surrendered to the fact that a chica must please her man so that's why we made the drive. We must have meat. We must always have meat.

The Pork Shop was swarming with people, and we quickly gathered the following: 4lbs of peppered bacon, a jalapeno-cream cheese log, ribs, a bag of dried pork green chili sticks, AND a green chili burrito. (Are you puking your brains out right now?) I know, it's enough pork to feed the neighborhood.

Do you know what else will horrify you? Our family, in two days, has eaten it ALL. The swine was that delicious, and the green chili burrito is the best I've ever eaten. The best!

Anyhoo, as we were checking out of the Pork Shop, I kindly commented on the man's stache pictured above. I said, "That stache is manly." To which he replied, "My wife hates it." To which mi Amor replied, "I can't grow a stache at all." To which mustache man replied to mi Amor, "But you look like you have such soft skin." To which I replied,"He does. He does. That's so true! The softest skin in the deep blue sea!" End conversation, add awkward silence.

We paid fifty bucks and walked out of the Pork Shop, and on the way out mi Amor informed me, "Never comment on the manliness of a man's stache in front of your own man; it's just not a way to behave." To which I replied, "I'm sorry." Good news: It's Monday and we're still married.

P.S. I have a Mia Maid whose thirst for bacon is unquenchable and so I delivered a pound to her doorstep.

P.P.S. Looks like this chica needs reminding on how to treat her man. Any suggestions?

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Fresh and Sleezy

I'm not a pervert; that's just what mi Amor calls the store, Fresh and Easy. Can I just express my deep hatred for this store? Can I, huh? Can I?

1. It's a faux Trader Joe's. No one can duplicate Trader Joe's. No one.
2. You have to bag your own groceries. And that takes me hours due to the testy "Please place your item in the bag" computer lady.
3. I always come home with smashed hamburger buns.
4. The store employees bug. "Would you like a magnet?" "No thanks," I say. "My fridge has wood paneling." Then the man tells me, "I'll give you two, just in case you get a new fridge."

That's all for now.

P.S. Fresh and Sleezy does play some good music, though. I think Olivia Newton-John's "Let's Get Physical" was playing, and I did shake my junk and sing all the way down the cereal isle. Why would a religious gal like me enjoy dancing to such a scandalous song? Maybe I am a perve after all.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

This Girl

On the day she was born, I whispered in her ear: This girl will dance.
When she took her very first step, I enrolled her in a movement class. This girl, I thought, is headed for the Joffrey Ballet.

While she danced and twirled, I dreamed and plotted: Now I will give this girl the life she's always wanted.

Kick higher. Dance harder. Sweat until you are wrung dry. Fulfill your mother's deepest desire.

This girl danced; she did as she was told.

But then, on a certain day, this girl said, "I will not dance anymore."

"I want to kick the ball so hard it lands on the moon. I want to run like a gazelle and feel the wind whipping through my pony tail. This girl, mother, will not dance anymore."

While she kicked and scored, I sat and schemed: How will I get this girl to do what I've always wanted?

This girl, sovereign and strong, will make her own dreams come true. This girl will do what she was born to do.

P.S. The ever talented Shawni Pothier snapped this remarkable action shot of mi homegurl. I owe her big for capturing what I couldn't express with words.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

The Loded Diper

If you're a fan of Jeff Kinney's Diary of a Wimpy Kid book series, you'll appreciate knowing that my homie's replica of Roderick's beat-up van won 3rd place at this year's Pinewood Derby. His father and I couldn't be prouder.

You may also be interested in knowing that the author had originally intended on naming Roderick's van "Diaper Whip." You may want to use this as a conversation opener during tonight's dinner conversation.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Wish Me Luck

My homies said, "Looks like you have a couple of banana peels on your feet. This comment made me try on another shoe. But then I said to myself, "You've got nothing to lose. You're wearing those banana boat shoes." Wish me luck!

P.S. You're thinking I should have gone with the other shoe. Shoulda ditched the Trina Turk diamond tights. Shoulda bought the Betsey Johnson dress you saw at Last Chance. Shoulda, Shoulda, Shoulda.

Something Close to New

Yesterday I went to Last Chance in search of a dress to wear tonight's soiree of sorts. Mi Amor told me I could spend 100 bucks on something new, something dazzling, something that will bring the other danes to their knees, begging me for mercy.

We ladies know that whenever we're invited to hang on the arm of our beloved at a special event, we're really just dressing to impress (or outdo) the other ladies in the room. Maybe that's not the case for you, and maybe I've just been blessed with a sick and twisted mind.

I couldn't find a dress, so I ended up buying a pair of gold flip-flops and 2 T-shirts. Instead, I've decided to wow the other ladies with a gray sheath I purchased at Banana Republic about a year ago--so last season, I know. I'm pairing the dress with a pair of 4 inch, yellower than a NY taxi cab, heels.

I can do the Running Man and Robo Cop in those heels, and so, if I feel like I'm not winning tonight's beauty parade, I'll just challenge the other ladies to a dance-off. I'll win first place.

P.S. I just measured the heels and they're actually 5 inches. Impressive, if I do say so myself.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Sugar Sugar

There isn't one thing I ate today that wasn't loaded with sugar--and fat. A slice of lemon cake, 4 chocolate macadamia nut truffles, imported from Hawaii (for your information), 2 Dr. Peppers, a handful of Japanese candy, and 3 Oreos. And I hate Oreos.

Tonight I hollered at my homies to "quit eating all that junk" while simultaneously pouring a box of Nerds into my wide-open jaws. What's wrong with me?

P.S. I just remembered that I did eat some edamame, so I guess I've been redeemed.

P.P.S. Mi Amor thought it was funny to take this picture of me when my glasses were broken, due to someone else's carelessness (names will go unmentioned), and I was suffering from a lengthy bout with pink eye. Can you believe how vile I look? Looks like the only friend I had in this situation was the Dr. Pepper nuzzled so comfortably in my hand.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Growing Hair While Waiting for a Ride

Two of my homies have missed the bus for the last three days in a row. On the first day I said, "Tomorrow, we'll be better. We'll lay out our clothes and pack our lunches the night before." My homies agreed to do these things; and they did.

But the next day, due to my hanging out at the shaving sink with mi Amor, blabbering on and on to him about nothing (something about the ingredients found in belly lint), I let time slip by until, again, it was too late to catch the bus. That day I committed to zipping my lips, no matter how the next day's shave would beckon me to ask mi Amor how he felt about the founders of the Bumpits company. (Do you own one? Huh? Do you?)

So the next day is today, and we missed the bus again. Again! Can you even fathom this situation? We have no excuse. None. As I sat in the car this morning debating whether or not I could make the eight minute drive to the bus stop in three minutes, I turned to my homies and said, "No one cares about making the bus, especially you two. So I guess you won't care if you have to sit here for the next twenty minutes so you can think up a solution to this problem. They said, "Fine. We'll sit here and think about it."

Twenty-plus minutes went by, and I really thought that after finishing my shower I'd find the two of them crouched in the pantry, eating chocolate covered pretzels.

"Boys!" I called out, while closing the shower door. But there was no answer. "They're still in the car!" I thought to myself. "They're taking our time management, bus-missing problem seriously!" Just as I finished assuming the very best case scenario, my littlest homie ran into the bathroom and said, "You've left us out in the car so long that I grew this mustache while you were gone. What do you think? Huh? Do I look like a gorgeous babe?"

I said, "I think I give up!" And then I took a closer look at his manly stache, and together, like two carefree hyenas, we laughed and laughed.

I'm so glad we missed today's bus.

P.S. The car was parked in the cool, shady garage.

P.P.S If you're curious about the ingredients found in belly lint, click here.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Raise Your Hand If You Need a Tan!

MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Somebody buy this chica some self-tanner. Madre?

I've been blinded by the light.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

April Fool's Day

Most every year (when I'm thinking straight), I play a little April Fool's Day joke on my homies. This morning on our way home from the gym, I said to mi Amor, "Let's really fool them. Let's cook a frozen pizza, and when they wake-up we'll say they slept through the day and now it's time for dinner."

Mi Amor rolled his eyes and said, "L-A-M-E!"

"Instead," he suggested. "We'll fill their breakfast plates with broccoli!" (Remember my kids are allergic to anything healthy?) Then we'll say, "Breakfast is served!" Dunt Dunt Dah! (insert villainous music here).

I thought to myself, "I think I married Einstein because this idea is brilliant!"

One by one my homies wobbled out of their rooms and found their place at the breakfast table.
I said in a cheery voice, "Get it while you can! Fresh organic broccoli, hand selected especially for you, this very morning from Walmart's produce department!" My homies were not amused, and the littlest started crying, flinging his body to the ground in absolute horror. (5 solid years of breakfast with Toucan Sam will cause a child to react in such a way.)

I was ready to keep playing along, especially since the other two had begun taking petite bites of their broccoli. I delighted in watching them pucker, chew, and swallow in pure disgust. They are so trusting, really. Can you believe they believe I know what's best for them?

As I began telling my littlest homie to get-up to the table so he could grow some hair on his chest, I remembered that I had forgotten to wash the broccoli. A bit panicked (because who knows what kind of germs lurk on unwashed organic broccoli), I said, "Halt the veggie feast, ya'll!" Then, like a ray of April Fool's Day light, mi Amor came into the kitchen, tall and sweaty. There he stood, balancing a box of day-old donuts on his hand like a waiter delivering a feast to a table full of neglected and starving children.

He's a genius, I tell you. Because who looks like the Wicked Witch of the West now?