This is NOT Your Mom's Blog » ironapricot

Squirrel Ugly

ironapricot — Wed, 28 Apr 2010 07:01:09 +0000

You ever woke up so hungover and you roll over and Holy Hiccups! there’s something really ugly in your bed and you don’t remember putting it there? Well, that’s what happened to me Sunday when I woke up except, sadly, I was not hungover-just exhausted-and I woke up to a weird sensation on the back of my neck and when I rolled over-there was the squirrel. Yeah, you knew by now I was not going to have had an exciting Saturday night out where I would have brought someone home, oh no. Instead, one of my felines, out of undying gratitude for the salmon-pistachio patties my menfolk spurned that they were the happy recipients of, put a maimed squirrel on my M-FIN PILLOW. I ask you. Can you envision that? Do you see why I’m not on any kind of illegal drug? I’d be sooo scared-all the time! So, I don’t know what the poor squirrel’s crime was that he had to be sacrificed to the Queen of Salmon Patties, but he was and it was nasty. (I actually loathe squirrels, so I hope the lady that swerved and rolled her car on River Road doesn’t read this and come after my cats with the PETA people.)

I’m too sexy for my shirt.

ironapricot — Wed, 21 Apr 2010 10:00:15 +0000

You all know the song. It will drag people to a dance floor at a lame-ass wedding just like the stupid electric slide. Don’t be ashamed. It’s fun! But, let’s talk about street fairs. You know the signage-No Shoes, No Shirt…There’s a reason people. Let’s chat. Do you know how many dudes were down at the Azalea Festival way too scantily clad? There were two types. Type A: really pale, really skinny, ONE chest hair flittering gently in the breeze, the bright tomato red glare of sun-burn beginning to frolic about the ab line-delightful. Type B. FAT, FAT, FAT with an excess of oily hair usually plastered to the rolls with a glistening liniment of sweat. Yum. Why, guys? I’m not saying there weren’t underdressed ladies-there were but not like this. This hurts. That is not about embracing ones inner self. And I, being blessed with a very graphic imagination can’t help but further undress you mentally and softly gag and retch. If I knew you and loved you I wouldn’t care, but I still wouldn’t let you outside like that. No, uhunh. Hey, I’m not cruisin’ the streets with my baggy post baby body in a string bikini and those clear pageant heels with a sadly bedraggled bikini wax and you should be thankful! (Even though I still think those freakin’ clear shoes are divine. I’m sorry I do and I also love Dolly Parton so deal with it. And why bother paying $60 for a wax when two nights ago my husband blankly looked at my across the table and said “Why can’t I remember your middle name?) I promise to recover from the horrors of Azalea Fest soon but I am so scarred. So, so scarred. And scared. Blech.

Yard Sales ‘r Us

ironapricot — Wed, 07 Apr 2010 11:00:50 +0000

In the days of economic crisis and cutbacks and layoffs you can be calmed by the fact that when the going gets tough you can always have a lucrative yard sale. For some people shopping is a release, a natural high and an escape-much like television, books or video games for others. So when Target and the mall are out of the question, yard sales, flea markets and thrift stores fill the void. This is a good thing! This encourages recycling and reusing of goods! It lets the Brave Little Toaster move on to another happy household! Sadly, because I am a perverse and contrary creature, it makes me angry. All my favorite haunts become crowded and prices are driven up by demand. No, I don’t want your crappy micro-macro economics lecture on demand and supply-I just want my untrammeled Vintage Values back. It’s the irritating attitudes of the uber-trendy too, like they just discovered thrift stores. Listen, I liked owls, Julia Child and Goodwill when I was 11 years old and that was 21 years ago, so all you Anthropologie-Real Simple magazine-Passat driving goobers get over yourselves. And get out of my junk stores. Sigh, all right, I don’t mean it-it’s so much better for our world- but can you at least not be on your iPhone at horrifying decibels the whole time you’re shopping? We are all aware that you are shopping here to make a difference and a statment, not out of any real financial need. Don’t worry-NOBODY THINKS YOU’RE POOR! Now, hang up, pay and get out.

Join hands and pray round the chocolate-covered bunny

ironapricot — Wed, 31 Mar 2010 11:59:20 +0000

We have now entered the zone of Spring where we see 3 crosses draped in purple or flowers in front of churches. We see ornate flower and egg wreaths on residential door fronts and we see PEEPS spilling out of every endcap in every store in town! Easter-the holiday that every vacuum cleaner dreads! Having to inhale miles of Easter grass that then wraps around their wheels and smells like burning Barbie for 6 months! My vacuum is usually an avant-garde collage of German Shepherd hair, Christmas tree hooks and Easter Grass. Perhaps I should remove the vacuum brush and sell it on Etsy as,”The Backlash of Suburbia.” I like it, no?

As a small (ok, not really, I was a bit of a chunk) girl I got to go through an Easter hell. I went to a school that did Easter up Southern Religious style-complete with cantata and the nail-biting decision of what overblown Easter dress to purchase but I went to a church that said Easter was not a real holiday and so there was no celebration NO fancy dress or FUN. NO FUN EVER. So, how did that shape me for adulthood? Well, my kids are going to hunt eggs and get chocolate bunnies and I am going to get a fancy, schmancy dress and some god-awful white sandals and we are going to enjoy nature and our chickens and their eggs and be grateful for the crazy family that will invade us on Sunday and eat my food like a tribe of ravenous wildebeasts. And if cleanliness is next to godliness, well, that will last for about 10 minutes.

Adidas 7.5

ironapricot — Wed, 24 Mar 2010 11:00:32 +0000

No, this is not my shoe size. It’s the name of my new bank. Has anyone out there read the entire health bill? If this thing passes whole-hog, the government will have the right to delve into my paltry bank account to divvy up funds as they see fit to fund illegals medical bills. Uhhhh? Why would I want to do that? I’m still chipping away at my own medical bills! So, I have decided my Depression-era grandmother was right all along-she keeps all her cashola in shoeboxes. So, Adidas, here I come. It’s like the Homeland Security Bill they passed-did anyone read that? That allowed Eli Lilly Pharmaceuticals permanent dismissal from all future lawsuits regarding vaccinations and Autism. But nobody noticed this tag-on because they were so gung-ho about keeping terrorists out of airports! I loathe politics-discussing them, you name it. Anything that big is a crappy idea. Do I have a better answer for running this country? No, not off the top of my head but that doesn’t matter. The Health Bill IS SCARY.
Sticking it all in the shoe box and avoiding doctors at all costs.