(REVISED)the last GaTech game [bittersweet? no way!]

Photo by Christaar on her cheap-ass LG phone:No more having to walk through that tunnel with the drunks and other shady characters. This lovely picture is like a trophy. Somebody placed the bottle in a discarded shoe like it was a fine wine decanter.

I love Atlanta.

by popular demand

Here’s my get up from this morning’s Facebook status,

I look ridiculous today. I am wearing red track warmups leftover from when Jonathan was younger and running cross country. Pink crocs left behind by Vicky. Christy’s long-sleeved lacrosse shirt (warm!) and a powder blue fluffy bathrobe. Did I mention it’s cold outside? I didn’t? Well, there won’t be any pictures posted.

There’s more to the story, at least what I’m going to post about. You see, this get up, while a mess, and thank you Lisa Hendey, aka, CatholicMom, I will not be going to Walmart to end up on the People of Walmart website (I guess it’s really moot since I’ve posted the picture), as I was saying, this get up is comprised of leftovers by my children. Actually, the bathrobe is mine, and nice-looking as well as warm and utilitarian, and the socks are a bonus in the ridiculous meter. I bought them in the Outer Banks years ago. They have sand dollars all over them. But the rest of the stuff is left-overs.

Let me explain why that tickles me. You see, when I was a teenager I worked in a bank on school breaks. My mother’s employer, C & S Bank, would hire the children of their employees during the breaks. I enjoyed a rather nice job, and got to meet a lot of interesting and weird people. One of those people, a nice lady we’ll call “Wanda” because it rhymes with her real name, had two teenage daughters that went to school with me. One was pretty normal, but the other was a shallow clothes horse. She ended up being fairly normal, but at that time was consumed by wearing the latest fashions. In 1978, that was pretty horrendous stuff.

Let me share with you some of the highlights of that time.

Wanda would go to work in her daughter’s fashion discards. At least I stayed inside all day.

Congratulations, Achi! we are so proud!

We are so proud of Achi for winning the Nobel Prize in Literature. It is quite an accomplishment that, while not given for a specific work of magnificence, recognizes that for so many years, he has incessantly talked about writing his magnum opus. He especially gets credit for all those phone calls to his sister-in-law to just “pass some ideas past her” so that he maintains a good handle on the creative process.

Congratulations Achi. What will you do with the money? I hope you remember the minions who put you there. I mean, you are truly an inspiration to me. You know what they say, from little mighty acorns mighty little oaks grow.

a couple of old ladies

these two jokers were planning their meal at Cracker Barrel in such a way that they could share and split a variety of items for a veritable feast at a deal.

cheapskates. or clever boys. at any rate there was some negotiation involving the hashbrown casserole.

please respond! I want to know!

So I discovered that my sister puts toppings on crackers on the unsalted side. Weird! I always put it on the “top” of the cracker. She’s amazed that I think crackers have tops. Well, I’m amazed that she  would put stuff on what is clearly the bottom of the cracker.

Enquiring minds need to know!

I feel like a fruit basket.

I know, some of you think I’m a fruitcake. Others think I’m a basket case. Some days I’m both, but today, I totally smell like a fruit basket.

I bathed with grapefruit mint shower gel, shampooed with strawberries and cream, followed by green apple conditioner. Then I shaved my legs with mango pomegranate gel. If that wasn’t enough, I used almond cherry moisturizer.

Weird? Maybe. In a wild Dave Ramsey moment I decided to use all my unfinished shower products before buying anything new. I didn’t anticipate fruit salad.

I feel silky soft, but the dog keeps trying to lick me.

to my absolute joy!

I found further evidence with which to annoy my children. It’s my hobby.

I have been excluded, ignored, chided, ridiculed, and finally befriended by them on Facebook. And the ridiculing continues.

It’s a beautiful thing. I post something. One of them tells me why I am a creeper, or a stalker or uncool.

My status is analyzed and deconstructed.

To my absolute joy, though, I discovered this article in last month’s Time Magazine that must have escaped their attention. Here it is. Enjoy it.

I hope you get some satisfaction, too.

Etta James cracks me up…

I guess the entertainment rags are having a good time playing and replaying her tacky abuse of Beyonce and her tackier comment about Obama’s ears. I didn’t vote for the guy, but I don’t think I’d go out of my way to publicly say some of the stupid stuff that in the end makes her look pretty dumb.

The thing that bugs me is that I really like the song, At Last.

I have this terrible character flaw in relation to music. I don’t know how it happened, but I am annoyed when I have a happy little collection of music that is mine, all mine, and no one else seems to take an interest in it, and then it becomes trendy. Understand that on a very rational level, I get that At Last was a hit before I was even paying attention to nursery rhymes. I get it. Really.

Still, I am annoyed by all the attention people are giving it. Ha! I am the master of irrational behavior, just ask my children.

 

 

 

 

If people start giving Carmen McRae an inordinate amount of attention, I want you to know that you heard about her here.

 

really? below freezing around here? vaya.

facebook applications annoy me

Consequently, I ignore every single one of them. I didn’t always ignore them because like just about everybody else, I felt an obligation to respond. Okay, and if I am being brutally honest, also because they are kinda neat. Only, really, they can be very consuming so I took my kids’ advice and ignore them. Evidently it is very uncool to be tied to the apps anyway, so there. Y’all know how tied I am to the cool factor.

Anyway, lest you feel that I am giving you the cold shoulder or that I am somehow too cool for you when I hit that “ignore” button, know that I do stop and read what you’ve thrown at me, or sent me, or otherwise wish to share with me, and I appreciate it. Don’t stop sending me things, just know that like my father’s ad nauseum forwards (which are now a part of the family folklore and thus a necessary tradition) they will be promptly deleted.

With that explanation out of the way, let me share today’s facebook invitation, courtesy of my sister. This is the text of the invitation:

*Hey, I added you as my relative. Could you do me a favor and add this application, then add your relatives too? This way I can see who on facebook I am related to…

I don’t know how to respond to that. I figure, she deserves the public humiliation. Really, Christi, you need a facebook application to see who you are related to?

For the win, the grammar is awful.

*that’s from the app, not Christi’s text