Tuesday Ramblings

Body Shots

“My great grandma used to do body shots off of babies. Whenever a family member would come over with their baby, my great grandma would check to see if the soft spot on their head had closed up. If it hadn’t, she’d put tequila on the soft spot and suck it off of our heads. She did it apparently to close the hole faster, because evil spirits come in from that hole and she believed that it took them out. Some of my aunts still do this.”

The above is from a Reddit user sharing one of their ‘WTF Family Traditions.’  and after reading it, I promptly fell down the Google Rabbit Hole. I found so many interesting things, like the ‘Tequila Head Slammer’ shot, (but really, it’s just the Tequila Slammer, so I feel like google took a weird liberty with my search). 

Cultural appropriation be damned! Is it wrong that when I read this, I didn’t think, “hmmm… that’s weird.” I thought, “Holy shit! I need to keep a bottle of tequila in my purse – so I can be ready if the opportunity ever arises to drink tequila off of a baby!” 

Even though a suken fontanelle is probably the coolest shot glass ever, I feel like that would be taking things a little far and I might have to just buy a collabsible shot glass that I can balance on top of their head instead. Nobody can get away with a baby body shot other than an actual grandma.

The details still need some work, obviosly, but with a little tweaking, this could be a thing. And rest assured, I will only use babies that I know.  – C.U.NextTuesday, R.Dolly

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Tuesday Ramblings

Thanksgiving Day is a Happy Day. Right?

What runs through your mind when you read a social media post that says “Happy Thanksgiving!! I’m sooooo thankful for my wonderful family, my blessed life and waking up every beautiful morning!” When I read those touching statements last night, I was thinking “LIAR!!!!!” Family who probably never had to help, my blessed life being a dumbass and running around last minute because of said dumbassness while cleaning up a water leak and waking up this morning feeling like I’m 100 goddamn years old because I spent eight solid hours getting dinner ready.

I admit, I’ve made posts throughout the year when my family has had dinner and wine ready and on the table when I get home from work or when my daughter brought me flowers at work because both examples were sweet and thoughtful and deserved acknowledgement. Hopefully, it also encourages the behavior to be repeated. Mama didn’t raise no fool.

Some Thanksgivings have been relaxing and wonderful. They were the ones where we’ve been invited to someone else’s house or my family wasn’t working and home to help with the dinner. This year, reading those happy, sappy, sweet Thanksgiving greetings made me roll my eyes because it hurt too much to extend my middle finger.

Our family dinner included just our family of four, which I enjoy the most. Unfortunately, everyone was working from 6 am to 6 pm except for moi. Let’s go back to where the blessed event all began…

Saturday afternoon I headed to the grocery store to pick up all the turkey dinner fixings. I had a turkey thawing so it should’ve been a stress free trip. The store was busy with all the other procrastinators but it was kinda nice being the only one not rushing through the store in a panic. Until the baking aisle. No canned pumpkin. No canned pumpkin pie filling, either. What in the fuck!!!! I should’ve remembered this from every other fucking Thanksgiving and Christmas that I’ve scrambled to multiple stores to find it the day before I’m supposed to make a pie. Now, I’m calling myself a dumbass and rushing around the store like every other person while hoping to find an end shelf with a display of canned pumpkin. Nope, nope, fucking nope. I really didn’t want to go to another store. Then I spotted the real pumpkins. Huh. My husband’s favorite pie is pumpkin. I’ve made fresh pumpkin pies before but it’d been a looooong ass time. I decided I’d make a fresh pumpkin pie and make my husband’s love for me grow even more. So I happily grabbed a fairly large pumpkin, Crisco and the rest of my dinner ingredients and paid.

I made the stuffing that night so I could be ahead of the game. I’d have a lot of time the next day while the turkey cooked to get the pies ready. Right? W.R.O.N.G.

It was a medium turkey so I relaxed in bed and read later than usual. I got up, grabbed a coffee and came home. Stuffed the turkey and got it into the oven. Then I googled how to cook the pumpkin. Bake it. Easy peasy. I cut it into slices because it was too big to halve and put in the top oven. I scooped out the innards and put them in a bowl so I could clean the seeds for roasting later because my family loves them. While the pumpkin baked, I looked up the recipe for the pie filling. Oops, I totally forgot that it’s not just pumpkin. I needed condensed milk, spices, brown sugar and eggs. I knew I had spices because I’ve made it before. I started digging through both my spice cupboards and then had to find MY ladder because someone stole it and took it to the shop….asshole. I have my own ladder because a) I can’t see or reach the top shelf of my cupboards and b) so that everyone knows it’s mine and doesn’t steal it. So after wasting precious time looking for MY ladder, I frantically searched for the spices and found only the cloves.

So, off I head to the store. Actually, two stores because the first one was out of condensed milk. No biggie. I had an hour until the pumpkin was cooked. The second store had everything I needed and I was at the point where I said fuck it, and just bought a tin of pre-mixed pumpkin pie spice.

I got home, scraped the cooked pumpkin off of the skin and mixed up the filling. I made the pie crust and put it in the fridge before rolling. While the crust was chilling, I peeled potatoes and got them boiling. Then I remembered I had to clean and steam the brussel sprouts.

All of a sudden, I noticed that I was standing on a soggy anti-fatigue mat. Guess what? The hose on my sprayer tap came loose so every time I turned the water on, it also leaked under the sink and the mat was soaking up the water pouring out from underneath the cupboard door. Those mats sure are absorbent. I phoned my husband, who should’ve known to randomly check that it was functioning properly, and asked how he fixed it the last time it happened. I tightened the connection by the spray nozzle thingy, looked at the clock and threw some towels down in front of the cupboard and left the mess for later because I was running out of time.

I got out the dough and rolled it out. As per usual, the dough didn’t roll without cracking and sticking to the roller in strips so I had to Frankenstein those bitches together in the plate. I poured in the filling and got them in the oven to bake.

I checked the brussel sprouts and remembered I had to make cheese sauce for them. I looked over and spotted the bowl of pumpkin innards and seeds and thought, “Fuck all y’all” and dumped those fuckers in the trash and hid them under a plastic bag so my family wouldn’t see them and question my devotion.

So, shortly after that my family arrived home from work. I’m pretty sure the high-pitched, panicky tone of my voice alerted them to the fact that if I had to ask for help, someone wouldn’t be seeing the next beautiful morning. My oldest started shredding cheese and making the sauce. My husband was setting the table and poured me pre-dinner wine…which after inhaling that glass in one shot, I realized I should’ve started THAT earlier. My youngest was scooping out the stuffing and I made the gravy and then carved the turkey. We didn’t eat until 7 pm, however everything turned out delicious and the pies (which we ate the next day because everyone was too full from eating so late) were magnificent.

By the time dinner and wine were finished, the girls washed the dishes and I packaged the remaining unused pumpkin for future pies, I was exhausted and sore. It’s amazing how much the anti-fatigue mats help in the kitchen.

It’s the next evening and I’m still in pain, taking too much Advil and smelling like my grandma because I’ve broken down and used the stinky pain relieving cream.

So back to the social media shit. After writing this cathartic rambling, I realized that as soon as my family got home and was able to help, they did so without whining about it, took care of all the clean up and they liquored me up really well. THAT is what Thanksgiving is about and I love my fucking family.

~C. Dolly~

Tuesday Ramblings

WTF Matrix?

smurf

I have brassy hair. I do. Love getting my hair highlighted, but as we all know, red tones wash out super fast and you’re left with brassy orange, which is not cool. Last week, my hairdresser recommended that I try a bluing shampoo to help with the brassiness. All I was told was, “Make sure you leave it in for 3-5 minutes to allow it to penetrate.”

Sure thing! As much as I might be grossing out the masses, I am a bath girl. Yes, I know, I’m bathing in a cesspool of my own filth. Let me assure you – my filth is like fairy dust that anyone would be thrilled to be coated with. But, I digress…. Let me shift the scene back to my nice relaxing bath. Wine in hand, music pumping, bubbles bubbling and the water so hot it would melt the skin off of a man’s testicles.

I don’t know about you, but I absolutely love anytime I get to try new shampoo, make up, skin care products or frankly anything that promises to make me pretty (prettier). I crack the bottle with anticipation and pour the inky goo into my hand. It’s pretty fucking blue. Still, doesn’t register that this could be a concern, so I proceed to lather it all up in my hair and wait the allotted time. As I’m waiting, I notice that my hands are a little bluish in colour. Not papa smurf blue, but more of an indigo haze – like gargamel took a bath in blueberry juice to make himself a bit more smufalicious. I decided that I should do a quick rinse at which point the water turned a dark blue and my skin started to burn. I jumped out of the bath and decided that reading the label was of paramount importance at the moment. First of all, let me assure you that there is nothing wrong with my eyesight. I have perfect vision, but I was squinting to make out the label on theis bottle. The first thing that caught my eye was the little hazard sign on the front. Pictured below. See if that’s one of the first things you notice…. I’ll give you a minute to find it. 

1-IMG_6109

By now I’m sure you’ve found it top right. It simply says safety instructions. Now here’s what the ‘safety instructions’ look like. Keep in mind, the photo below is enlarged.

2-IMG_6110

Breaking it down for you, apparently I should wear gloves, preform an allergy test prior to every use, wash hands thoroughly after any accidental contact and that if I use it around my eyes, I could go blind. And here I thought I was just washing my hair. On the plus side, my hair did lose the brass and I should have been smart enough to realize that some things that promise to make me pretty (prettier) come at a very caustic price. I will be paying way better attention in the future.  – C.U.NextTuesday (or whenever I can actually remember what day it is!) – R.Dolly

Tuesday Ramblings

The 12 Steps of Crowlife Anonymous

 

cute_baby_crow

Because Crowlife recovery is a lifelong process, there’s no wrong way to approach the 12 Steps as the participant tries to figure out what works best for their individual needs. In fact, most participants find that they will need to revisit some steps or even tackle more than one of the steps at a time.

Crows are NOT hoarders, no matter what my husband and children say. For example: I have a Tupperware cake taker. Do I use it all the time? No. Does that mean that my girls are going to pry it out of my midget-like grasp without giving me their first born child in exchange for it? Hell No! Honestly, I shouldn’t have to explain why touching my shit will end badly for them. Hoarders collect and surround themselves with useless items like rotting pumpkins (“It was a niiiice pumpkin!”), human and animal feces, dirty dishes and baby clothing when there’s not a baby in their life. Although, maybe there is a baby, but it’s been lost amongst the pumpkins and dishes. Crows surround themselves with fresh air, a nice comfortable high-rise nest and the shinies that they’ve collected. Crows also kick ungrateful, decluttering babies out of the nest with no fucks given.

 

Here are the 12 Steps of Crowlife Anonymous as defined by The Dollies:

  1. We admitted we were powerless over the ‘Oh, Shiny!’ – that our lives had become unmanageable without crafting bins to hold The Shinies – Acceptance is the key to happiness.
  2. Came to realize that a High Priestess, with power greater than our own, couldn’t restore us to sanity – Let’s be honest, there’s nothing that can restore our sanity. We’re quite simply fucked. I’m not complaining because I enjoy having people wonder if that little piece of insanity they glimpse once in awhile has escaped from the much larger meteor of insanity that is caught in my gravitational field.  
  3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the call of the wild – Crows are wild. And free. They’re also scavengers. Anyone watching us go through sale bins in a craft store would totally see the resemblance.
  4. Made a searching and fearless inventory of our gems and shiny bits – As I stated in my article Crowlife, you can often find us going through our containers to familiarize ourselves with The Shinies we’ve collected long ago, but never found the perfect use for. Yet.
  5. Admitted to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs – R. Dolly and I freely admit the nature of our wrongs to each other all the time. Sometimes we even temporarily trade shiny things so that we feel like we could get rid of them if we really needed to.
  6. Were entirely ready to have each other remove any shiny defects – Defects are not acceptable, unless they can be hidden or camouflaged in some way. If we show each other a damaged shiny and can’t figure out a way to hide or camouflage it, we have no problem letting the other person dispose of it.
  7. Humbly ask for help to remove our shortcomings – Nobody wants to run out of supplies halfway through a crafting project. We have no problem asking for help to alleviate the burden of under-stocked supplies.  
  8. Made a list of persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all – On occasion we may have trampled some poor unaware crafter or random loiterer as we rushed towards the sale bins. We need to let go of our impure thoughts that they shouldn’t have been just standing in the way talking on their cell phones or texting and ultimately caused their own injuries.
  9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would cause injuries to yourself – Crafters are a vicious breed. We Dollies have no problem making amends, but some of those bitches just can’t let shit go.
  10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it – If one of us mistakenly thinks we have enough supplies for a craft and run out before we finish, we have no problem admitting we fucked up.
  11. Sought through Google and Pinterest to improve our knowledge when something isn’t turning out as planned and gained the power to carry on – Dollies never give up. Ever. I just purchased a new glue in the hopes of finally securing my solo cup to it’s candle holder base from the May White Trash Party.
  12. Having had a Crowlife awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to other Crowlifers (and non-Crowlifers) and to practice these principles in our daily lives – We’ve accepted who we are and realize that there’s nothing wrong with living the Crowlife way. Find inspiration in everything that surrounds you and be creative. And as long as those annoying bitches stay out of our way at the craft sale bins, life will continue on for them as per usual and we’ll stay out of jail. Nobody wants to see me do this:

Attack Cat Bush~C. Dolly~


Tuesday Ramblings

Tell Me What You REALLY Think…

Can you guess what the following characters have in common?

karen

giphy (3)giphy (2)

According to my kids, they’re all just like me. I don’t take insult to it, and they didn’t mean it that way, because even though some people may feel like they have less than desirable character traits for a mother, I find them all hilarious. And more importantly, I find them all honest and caring in their own weird way.

Long and the short of it is, it doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks of you as long as you’re happy with you. And, more importantly, my kids love me and turned into well adjusted adults. According to more than just me 🙂 – C.U.Next Tuesday, R.Dolly

 

Tuesday Ramblings

Death By Dildo

Death is inevitable. Most people, including myself, don’t want to die and there’s a fear and anxiety surrounding the thought of death. Gone are the days of your body being disposed of in a peat bog or lit up on a funeral pyre. Now the process is more civilized (expensive) and your body is carefully lowered into the ground in an ornate satin-lined coffin or cremated fully clothed to protect your dignity and your ashes are placed into an ornate silver urn. We’ve taken the original earthy idea and basically bedazzled it. #Crowlife

People see all sorts of weird and crazy shit during their lifetime (thank you social media!!) and I’m pretty open and intrigued by most things. I’m not a religious person nor am I a straight-laced, uptight bitch. I don’t have judgie eyes like lobsters do and I try not to judge others (unless the person is an asshole or a total idiot who’s going to become the downfall of society, which there is a plethora of.) Creepy, odd, strange and brilliant ideas are fascinating. Dirty and dark humor are what I love. People can be so creative and ingenious. They can also come up with ideas that make open-minded people like myself pause and say:

WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCKITY-FUCK???

What’s too far for this Dolly?

“Dutch designer Mark Sturkenboom has just created a sex toy that includes a mini-urn to hold the cremated remains of that special someone.”

21 Grams is a memory box that holds the cremated remains of your loved one inside a glass dildo, a brass key on a necklace to lock it, a perfume/cologne diffuser that holds the departed’s signature scent and an iPod amplifier to listen to the music that reminds you of them as you’re getting down to business.

How in the fuck would you get turned on enough to use it. There isn’t enough lube in the world. Your vag would just close up tight when that goddamned dildo started heading towards it.

I told my husband that no matter how much I love him, his remains will never take up residence in my toys. I did, however, give him permission to use my remains in a fleshlight type device because I know he’ll be so devastated without me. He gave me a completely horrified WTF look. So I’m pretty sure he’s going to replace me with a blond with huge boobs. She’d never have my personality or sense of humor but neither would a fleshlight containing my ashes.

C. Dolly

Tuesday Ramblings

My Phone is So Old, It’s Almost Steampunk Cool

I used to think that I was above average when it came to technology and the use of it. But it seems like the more advancements that have been made, the more my technology is being limited.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my gadgets. What I don’t love is that updates happen whether you want them to or not, and then your storage gets maxed, your battery dies quicker and you find yourself needing a new phone. I don’t like to be tricked into purchasing the latest model when my old one works worked perfectly fine.  My kids may laugh at me for being so old school, but my devices are pretty much indestructible and I can add any music that I want onto them. I don’t have to re-purchase and only listen to it on the device of some conglomorates choosing. I also don’t have to replace every accessory that comes with it because they changed their outlets to help promote their sales. No broken screens for me! And, double bonus, I can leave them pretty much anywhere and no one will ever steal them. Half of the time no one even knows what they are!

This is my phone of choice

blackberry

And this is how I listen to music

mp3 player

I have also realized that I am not alone. I have met people who have started stock piling these devices because they are awfully hard to buy now. We usually get them given to us for free as well. I am well prepared for the day when mine breaks down or wears out since I have a few in the kitchen storage drawer just in case. I also have extra batteries that have been ordered off of amazon.  And, just in case you missed it, I did say for the day when they wear out. Not when they get uselessy tossed aside because something newer and better came on the market.

Just don’t stop me in the street and ask me to take your picture with your touchscreen phone. I don’t know how that shit works. – C.U.Next Tuesday, -R.Dolly