...for a different kind of girl

silent surburban girl releasing her voice, not yet knowing what all she wants to say about her life and the things that make it spin. do you have to be 18 to be here? you'll know when i know.

Friday, October 30, 2009

and now for something completely different

I've spent part of this week wondering what I could come back here and write about, and while there's a bunch of random nouns and verbs languishing in my drafts, I honestly couldn't think of anything I felt like pulling together into a cohesive thought after going through these past seven days. In light of that, I'm going to serve up this post potluck-style. Please, I beg you, enjoy some of the Jell-O with shredded carrots and raisins so I don't have to bring it home.


First, and really, the only important thing here, my thanks to all of you for your notes and condolences for the loss of my friend Shawn. It meant a great deal to me to receive them, especially those who told me they got a true sense of the type of man he was because I finished that post feeling that I'd failed to do so. Shawn was such a vast personality there's really no way I could contain him in words. That aspect of him also explains why his memorial was a two-hour event where more than 800 of us were filled with so much laughter, boisterous singing, and celebrating.

So I thank you. Very, very much.


Tonight is trick-or-treat night in our community. I bought two huge bags of miniature Butterfinger candy bars three weeks ago, then promptly hid them so I'd stay out of them. Last night, sadly, I found them. When I did, I stood over them and considered the cute little children and annoyingly uncostumed teenagers who would be coming to my door seeking sugary sustenance and tried to talk myself out of opening them. The bags of candy, that is. I would not intentionally rip into an annoyingly uncostumed teenagers, although in my mind, I could see pulling a Freddy Krueger on one or two who've darkened my door over the years.

Anyway, screw that, I said, and I opened them. At first I ate two. An hour later, I ate two more. By 8 p.m., I was telling myself stupid knock-knock jokes so I could justify the nearly empty bag resting on my chest like a sleeping baby. Today, in the harsh light of morning guilt, I must now decide if I want to go shopping and buy more candy, or just keep the porch light off and hide away from the goblins in the night.


Considering how damn cold it is outside, I may stay home and just spend the day chopping up the solid chocolate rabbit my youngest son got last Easter to hand out to the kids. Yes, that damn thing is still in my house. Unopened. For more than seven months.

And you said I didn't have any will power, Butterfingers!


Speaking of my youngest son, last night, I heard him telling his brother the punchline of his trick-or-treat joke and then roaring with laughter. Want to hear it? Well, I wish I could tell you, but so far, he's not been able to tell me without suffering from a serious case of the guffaws, so all I can tell you is the punchline. Ready? Brace yourselves:

Alice Pooper!

(He gets his comedy stylings from me)


Which explains why I was laughing like the 14 year old boy who resides inside me while driving home from QuikTrip Wednesday afternoon with the free hot dog and pop I scored with a coupon because I'd pulled my hot dog bun out of a draw labeled "Warm Buns."

Except now, when I share that story with you all, it's really not that funny. Weird.


Which is also odd, because when I placed my delicious free hot dog and pop on the counter and whipped out my coupon and handed it to the kid behind the counter, he totally gave me the "Heh, heh, heh" chuckle and said "Have fun with your free hot dog now!" and at first I was all, "And what are you implying, my good man?!" but then I sort of laughed and muttered something about warm buns, and I don't know. I guess you had to be there.


Which is also odd because I thought that you all were always there anyway! I thought you lived in my mind!


Warm buns.


So just over a week ago, I colored my reddish-hair an incredibly WHOA!! TOO DARK SHADE OF BROWN!!! I have a name for this shade, which was deemed "Warm Mocha" on the box, but because I like to give off an air of sophistication (despite the fun I can have with a free hot dog), I are not tell you what I I renamed it. Suffice to say it involves a bodily function.

I thought this would be a glamorous new look for me (before the name change) and people would be captivated by my mysterious ways, so far, that has not been the case. Eight days later and my husband STILL HAS NOT NOTICED!!! See that profile picture up there to your left? See that red hair? It's brown now. Trust me. It's a noticeable change. Also? I want the red back now.


If I had to make excuses for my Tool Man, I would say he's not noticed because he was gone for more than three days after I changed the color, and then when he returned, he declared himself a zombie and has been fighting the zombie infection for the past week. After a week of hearing him attempt to hoist a lung through his nasal cavity and having flashes of what it will be like to live with him when he's the same age as my father-in-law, I'm ready for this zombie virus to be out of his system. I am trying desperately not to lose my sympathy, but at this point, it's hanging by the tendon where his arm once was.


My plan was to keep this post of nothing brief. Last night, while scrounging around on my nightstand for something to read (because I'd left Ace of Cakes: Inside the World of Charm City Cakes downstairs)(damn but I love that show, btw. Tool Man and I are going to go see Anthony Bourdain - swoon! - next week, but just this week, I learned Duff and Mary Alice are going to be here next month for another event and I am down with getting my culinary on, so now I'm working on Tool Man to get tickets for that), I landed on my copy of Not Quite What I Was Planning, a collection of six-word memoirs I've shared my love of (in a far, far better post than this). I love this book for the amazing way the contributors allowed brevity to say so much. I wonder what that's like. I can't even make a brief paragraph.


Oh, wait! Yes, I can!

Warm buns.


Anyway, back to what I was getting to when I attempted to be brief. Have you been reading Polite Fictions? What? Did you just say "Yes, master"? Good. Very good, indeed, because there's some awesome new contributors up in that tangled web and to paraphrase my good friend Sir Mix-A-Lot, they are down to get the fiction on. Please, click the link. Get caught up. Remark "Geeeeeyawww, that's a damn long entry!!" when you read my turn at the knife from last week, and then marvel at the thunder everyone else has been bringing. Then be thankful you are not privy to the depravity that ensues when the emails start flying between us.


I guess that's about it. It's Friday, which means no one is probably around to read this post anyway. I read yours on Friday, though. No guilt or anything. I'm just saying...

Before I go get ready for the day, let me say thank you all one more time from the bottom of my heart, which hurts something awful because it's resting atop a 10 pound, 12 ounce Butterfinger baby at the moment.

Thank you.


Alice Pooper!!



Anonymous MommyGeekology said...

I'm glad to hear the memorial was a celebration of his life. I hope that you were able to grieve and celebrate as need be. ::love::

Also, I have a serious weakness for Butterfingers.

Friday, October 30, 2009 10:06:00 AM  
Blogger Desmond Jones said...

We just rented Monsters vs. Aliens; so the whole concept of 'enjoy the Jell-O' has hilarious overtones to me, just at the moment. . . (OK, that's less funny than 'warm buns'; guess you had to be there. . .)

And just between you & me, "laughter, boisterous singing, and celebrating." is the way funerals (properly understood) are supposed to be done. . .

And you know, 'Warm buns' are ever-so-much funnier when 'hot dogs' are included in the telling. . . ;)

Friday, October 30, 2009 11:22:00 AM  
Blogger Christina Lee said...

you get out there and buy some more candy, woman. then you can say, one for you and one for me, while you're passing it out!! :)

Friday, October 30, 2009 12:39:00 PM  
Blogger Bijoux said...

Considering my husband didn't notice completely new glasses resting upon my face until I told him 2 MONTHS later......nope, not surprised about ToolMan.

Anthony Bourdain = HAWT! I've read all of that bad boy's books!

Duff? Well, he's adorable in a teddy bear sort of way.

Friday, October 30, 2009 12:54:00 PM  
Blogger Swirl Girl said...

In my tribe, we sit Shive when someone passes away. After the funeral, not before (like a wake). It is to celebrate the life lived, not the life lost.
Sorry for your loss, FADKOG.

anywho - you've got to see Tony Bourdain in Food Porn. A special for the Travel Channel and his "No Reservations" show. All 60's cheezy music and psychelics ...with food and Tony. MMmmm Gooood.

Friday, October 30, 2009 12:56:00 PM  
Blogger Bethany said...

I will always read me some rambling fadkog on a friday. And then de-lurk to say "hi" and how sorry I felt about your friends passing so suddenly. And so young. Munch a baby butterfinger for me and tell those uncostumed teens(who are sweeping the nation, let me tell you) to take a hike. :)

Friday, October 30, 2009 12:58:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I have no Halloween candy left because I ate it.

I also appreciate long disconnected posts on a Friday.

Friday, October 30, 2009 1:14:00 PM  
Blogger Aunt Juicebox said...

Yeah, I already had to replace my original 6 bags of Halloween candy. And tomorrow morning? I have to go out and buy some more. Crap.

Friday, October 30, 2009 1:17:00 PM  
Blogger Desmond Jones said...

Oh, and I totally gotcha on the Monty Python title. . .


Friday, October 30, 2009 1:27:00 PM  
Blogger Bex said...

butterfingers, you are so Simpsons! :-)

i had lots of witty remarks to comment with but i've forgotten all but(t), warm buns!

i'm writing the joke for Alice Pooper. if it comes to fruition, i'll let you know.

and anthony bourdain? you MUST write all about that one!i'll expect it sometime during next weekend.

Friday, October 30, 2009 1:39:00 PM  
Blogger Unknown said...

As you said, we are all with you in your head at least and hopefully not between the warm "buns".
So remember when all is almost lost, we are some how or another, rooting for you.
And leave the butter fingers alone!

Friday, October 30, 2009 3:32:00 PM  
Blogger Brian o vretanos said...

Tool Man needs no excuse. When I was married, my wife always used to complain that I didn't notice her hair changes. If she'd told me beforehand she was going to the hairdressers I might have been able to at least pretend. The other week my daughter complained because I didn't notice that she'd gone from having mid-back length hair to short hair.

Have a fun Trick or Treat night. I hope the word verification I've just been given isn't an omen.

Word Verification: cringen

Friday, October 30, 2009 3:48:00 PM  
Blogger HoodChick said...

Heh heh

Friday, October 30, 2009 7:15:00 PM  
Blogger Pat said...

I love your long ramblings because, hey, I can relate to that. I always do a three-way (Hey - slap that dirty mind of of yours!) ON THE PHONE with two of my sisters, and when I'm telling them a story, one of them will say, "Uh, is there a point to this?" Shut up!

I'll just say that I'm glad I'm semi-reclined on my bed with my lap top while I'm reading your post. At least I'm comfortable!

Alice Pooper! Mwaahahaha!

Halloween candy? What candy? I thought Halloween already passed. Our candy is done get gone a long time ago!

Friday, October 30, 2009 8:22:00 PM  
Blogger Meg said...

Care to share? I love me some Butterfingers!!

Friday, October 30, 2009 9:38:00 PM  
Blogger That girl from Shallotte said...

I LOVE your ramblings! When I read them, I feel like I'm hanging out with a girlfriend at her house, lounging on the couch, drinking wine and having a girls-only blast.

Saturday, October 31, 2009 9:19:00 AM  
Blogger justmakingourway said...

"Alice Pooper" is the best punchline ever!

Awesome randomness, as usual. Hope you enjoy your weekend!

Saturday, October 31, 2009 1:30:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm like that with candy corn. And I justify eating the entire bag by saying the kids think candy corn is sucky and will egg our house.

Saturday, October 31, 2009 6:17:00 PM  
Blogger Aunt Becky said...

I always read yours. Just...you know, late. Because I am a slacker and very, very sick now. Stupid flu.

Alice Pooper. He sounds like me. No, really, he does. Is he my kid?

Sunday, November 01, 2009 10:14:00 AM  
Blogger Chasity said...

I have a neighbor who works for Nestle. In return for neighborly things like letting her puppy out for her during the day, I get treats like free Halloween Candy. What am I getting at, you ask? My Butterfinger Baby was free. But I got smart and shipped the rest of the candy from the home before I became the proud mother of twins!

Sunday, November 01, 2009 1:24:00 PM  
Anonymous The Mayor said...

I love Butterfingers, I just wish they weren't so messy when you bite into their crunchy goodness. It's hard to eat one on the sly when the evidence lays sprinkled on the front of your sweater.

I didn't buy any to pass out because I would have eaten them. I have tried to avoid checking my kids bags this morning.

Sunday, November 01, 2009 1:42:00 PM  
Anonymous A Vapid Blonde said...

Sticky Buns. heh heh! ( I have a dirty old man spirit that takes over occasionaly)

Sunday, November 01, 2009 1:55:00 PM  
Blogger Cynthia said...

The Butterfingers did me in as well:P

I would have laughed my a** of if you handed out chunks of chocolate bunny for Halloween:O

Sunday, November 01, 2009 9:55:00 PM  
Blogger lime said...

it's interesting to note what giref, exhaustion from caring for a sick spouse, a bad dye job , and utter butterfinger gluttony can produce.

here honey, let me just tuck you in with a fan mag featuring the jonas brothers. pull the covers over your head when your done and just sleep it all off.

Tuesday, November 03, 2009 10:26:00 AM  
Blogger Heather said...

So here's where my mind went after reading your post: "I have to Google that to see if I can find out the joke." Yeah.

You'll be happy to know you're the first listing for people searching for Alice Pooper Joke, but that didn't really help me find the answer.

The one I did find was this:
Whaddaya call Vincent Furnier with diarrhea?
Alice Pooper

I had no idea who Vincent Furnier was either so I had to Google that too.

You're always teaching me something.

Tuesday, November 03, 2009 10:01:00 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home