I think the blue guy is waiting for them to dance on that marshmallow pole. 
Category Archives: Humor
The Aurorae are coming! The Aurorae are coming!
“Amanda Revere here, reporting on something I know very little about.”
Rather than mount a trusty stud steed and yell at perfect strangers (what does that mean? What is a ‘perfect’ stranger?) thought I’d blog it.
The sun is sending us a present.
The irony in this is that I watched a B movie with some similarity last weekend.
Pretty sure the ‘end’ isn’t actually here (although, I have heard a few helicopters this morning … hmmmm) And if it IS here, I’m a little ticked that I didn’t toss some desserts into my shopping cart last night. Wouldn’t say no to some key lime pie for breakfast.
But I digress.
A coronal mass ejection (CME) has actually occurred. (let’s hope for the suns sake it wasn’t prematurely.)
For realsies.
Weather forecast? Partly magnetic with a chance of green skies.
‘They’ are also saying there could be some satellite and electrical interruptions. (Better not be interrupting my Candy Crush game! Or the coffee maker.)
A sun spot that is estimated to be bigger than about 6 Earths, has erupted and is sending a massive solar flare our way. (Definitely puts the new ‘freckle’ okay, ‘sun spot’ I have on my hand in perspective.)
Anyway, what that means for us, is that charged particles are headed our way at over 1,000,000 miles per hour.
I’m not going to pretend I know what that means. I just know I’m not going to panic. I’m going to keep my camera close and my eyes on the sky.
EHarmonious enough in my house alone.com
There are still single, attractive, sane people in the world you know. For all of us who have at one time lamented “All the good ones are taken”. Oh no they’re not.
They either have ‘I have run out of $#%&’s’ to give about dating’ syndrome.
Or have decided, ‘Its lovely to be able to pee with the bathroom door open and not have to put down my book when I’m reading in order to engage with someone needing attention’
Or both.
Some, like me, started out with ‘I will focus on raising my child first, then worry about dying alone’ then found that peeing with the door open and reading uninterrupted in the bedroom was something she could get used to.
Others, like a few friends of mine, refused to settle and THEN got comfy not having to adhere to anyone elses schedule, cater to anyone elses desires and needs and also, enjoy being able to pee with the door open.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s still nice to be appreciated.
Went to Wal-Mart yesterday, and a man looked at me and said, “What a beautiful woman”. It didn’t creep me out. He said it in earnest and with no apparent ulterior motive. Nice. I told him ‘thank you’ and you bet I posted it on my Facebook page. (At first I left out the part where he said it from his seated position in the electric shopping cart. It was still really nice getting a compliment.)
Received a message from a friend in California that evening. And I quote:
“so, i was at CVS tonight, when i ran into to a guy i use to date in my late teens, early 20’s. I hadn’t seen him for years, we chatted for a few minutes, etc. and he asked i wanted to get dinner sometime. i said yes, as no just seemed rude, and i was intrigued. i get outside and he shows me his ankle bracelet………..he was busted for growing pot last year. He said it was legal for the medicinal marijuana, but they got caught with too much, WHATEVER. he also lives with his parents again…………….SERIOUSLY UNIVERSE WTF, the first time i get asked out in years and this is what i get!”
After I was finished literally laughing out loud, I did point out that at least she got asked out. Besides, he’s self-employed, close to his family and has great taste in women! I then laughed my arse right off.
The fact of the matter is, this friend of mine is drop dead gorgeous. She’s also smart, compassionate, employed, and funny as hell. But is afflicted with the same lethargy as me.
It’s just SO nice to be HOME!
AND we don’t mind being alone. Crazy as it might sound. We actually like ourselves. Neither of us are lonely when alone. We both did our ‘thang’ in our 20’s. Trust me when I say we were no wall flowers in those clubs. So there’s this ‘been there, done that’ factor to toss into the mix too.
(The blog is called debauchery soup for a reason friends)
I have decided that our destiny will be to share a home 50 years from now with an abundance of cats and there will be porch time to spin a yarn or two about our 20’s … and 30’s.
Maybe there’s even a chance we’ll create some stories about our 40’s.
There is someone who has caught my fancy, but long distance things don’t tend to work out. Although, to be fair, at this point in my life, and with my energy level, across town is long distance.
First step I suppose: make the effort to go beyond the comfort of home, and learn to shut the door when peeing.
P.S. I’ll have you know that today I DID have a date. Here I am with it.
My milkshake brings my boy to a laugh
So, I got a LOT done today. Decided tomorrow is CHILL OUT day! Cleaned the house, went to the laundromat, did my extra weekend job tonight instead of having to set the alarm for Sunday morning. Anyway – long story short.
I’m at the grocery store. Clean laundry in the car. I had asked my son what he wanted added to the grocery list and his response was ‘Milkshake’. Milkshake?? “From where??” “By the flowers” he types back.
OK.
I can do this.
I finish up my shopping and head for the flower section. A-ha! Mini fridge thingy with cups of milkshake inside.
What flavor? Crap! I grab vanilla and head for the check-out.
“Hello beautiful” The cashier says. (Pretty sure he has a little crush on me, he’s very friendly whenever I run into him at this store).
I help pack my items in my green bags – chatting away with the cashier.
He holds up the milkshake that has a little damage to the rim. Says something about making it.
“That’s OK,” I say, “Pretty sure the insides will still taste the same”.
I’m oblivious to what he actually meant at this point.
I get home.
Proudly unpack ‘the milkshake’ and raise it up to show my son like it’s a trophy or something.
My son starts to laugh.
Eh???
“Um, you’re supposed to make those”.
Eh????
“There’s a machine next to the freezer that you put it in – you make it”.
Pffft.
He also made some comment about next time he wants clam chowder, maybe I could just hand him a can.
I had a few comments for him, but I’ll keep those out of the post.
Naughty bunnies!
Butters vs the chihuahua
Ah Tuesday morning. I’d just waved goodbye to my sick son – feeling a little guilty sending him off to school as stuffy and half awake as he was.
Fed the dog, grabbed some coffee – dressed in a long black skirt, a pink sweater and black knee-high boots.
Plenty of time to relax and play a little Candy Crush on my ipad as I sat outside and enjoyed the breaking dawn.
Chaos erupted.
It sounded like a pretty gnarly dog fight.
Crap. Where’s Butters??
I none so gingerly plonked my ipad onto my wicker table, spilled my coffee and panicked.
What to grab?
What’s going on?
Get the mace???
No … that’s gonna hurt! And let’s face it, since I don’t react too calmly in chaos, probably I’d be the one hurting when I accidentally sprayed myself in the eye instead of the source of the growling and frantic barking.
Big stick. I spied a big stick and grabbed it – bravely and briskly walking toward the ruckus.
Butters was going berserk. Absolutely, totally, kitten on crack crazy over the neighbors chihuahua.
(The only picture I could find related to Chihuahuas and Butter lol)
It had slipped under its fence and was under some illusion that it stood a chance against my 65 lb Sharpei/Sherpherd mix.
It stood (about 7 inches from the ground to the tip of it’s little snack like head) snapping and snarling from the opposite side of my barely-a-fence.
It’s more like chicken wire … big gaping holes that a very small dog could simply walk right through and into the mouth of my dog.
Please know, Butters is by nature a lover, not a fighter.
She gets excited when strange dogs go by – wags her tail and wants to play. Cats – not so much. And what she must have been thinking was “WHY is this cat barking and baring its teeth so close to my territory?!” Meanwhile, she was jumping up on the flimsy ‘fence’ and trying to get at the ‘barking cat’.
My first attempt to separate them resulted in Butters slipping her collar. (Insert Butter joke here _______)
My second attempt, after inserting stick in between dogs, left me with only one option.
Pick up angry, barking, snarling dog and carry her inside.
Remember now, I’m wearing a long black skirt, pink sweater and boots.
Nice.
Sixty-five pounds feels a lot like one hundred and sixty-five pounds when it’s still snapping and wriggling and thrashing it’s hindquarters in an angry tantrum.
I plop her down in the house and catch my breath. My heart is POUNDING. I can not DO exertion. No, seriously, I have sinus tachycardia, and walking up a flight of stairs feels like I’ve run a marathon.
But no time to waste. I have to leave for work in 20 minutes and there’s still the issue of the rat dog.
I exit from the side door, much to Butters chagrin. I hear her miserable pleas as I meet up with the trouble maker outside.
He follows me – rather pleasantly as I head to his house.
“C’mon, let’s get you home.” He trots along beside me.
Now, Chihuahua lives with a friend. Friend is a corgi. Corgi seems nice enough.
I arrive at my neighbors gate and read the ‘Beware of Dog’ sign.
“Well”, I reason, “I’m WITH the dog”.
And corgi is nice.
In I go. Dog is now home and I ring the doorbell to let them know they need to patch the fence so tidbit doesn’t wander into Butterland.
No answer.
But I do now hear the corgi.
Who proceeds to leap up and nip my arse!!!
Keep calm! Dogs can smell fear! Do NOT emit any dog-fear-pheromones!
I ring the bell again.
Nothing.
I now have to make it from the front door – to the gate to exit.
Crap.
The corgi is eyeballing me – and preparing to make another move.
I reach the gate and gently block the attack with my boot and scoot out to safety.
I’m now left with having to patch up the escape route myself.
I’m picking up rocks, pieces of wood – the dogs are at the fence, snapping at my hands when they get too close to their faces.
10 minutes ’til I have to leave for work.
I decide I can’t risk coming home to carnage. Butters will have to stay inside in our absence.
Felt awful all day. Poor thing. Was also praying she would use my bathroom if she couldn’t hold ‘it’. (The tile being easier to clean I mean. Obviously she can’t use the bathroom … I wish!)
Grabbed some ‘U’ fence posts on the way home (kissed $23 goodbye for those) – figured I could at least reinforce the ‘flimsy’ so she couldn’t leap out after the bugger.
Stopped by the neighbors, who still weren’t home, but did get to explain what happened to a friend of theirs who happened to be out front.
Came home, threw off my dog hair covered black skirt and pink sweater and went out to sledgehammer in those posts.
Considered using the hammer another way – but I borrowed it from a friend and don’t want to stick her with evidence.
Debauchery Soup 