Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts

Sunday, November 2, 2008

My "not quite Friday" Fucket List

I'm sorry.

I got busy. I've been jumpin' through hoops trying to get a car loan. Yeah. It sucked. I've been trying to keep my temper under wraps, because it seems lately I have no tolerance for dumbasses. And with my new and improved Dumbass Attractor 2000 XL set on overdrive, I cant seem to get away from them. Dumbasses are surrounding me like the proverbial zombie, mindlessly wandering around, drooling, seeking sustenance.

The zombies have found me. And now they are stalking me.

I had to leave. Seriously.

My daughter and I got in the car and road tripped to my aunts house in Columbus. My uncle has an "uber grill" which he charred up some pork, we played video games and visited with my cousin and her 9 month old little girl. I saw the baby, and aside from the overwhelming urge to chomp on her mega fatty chipmunk cheeks, my ovaries starting hurting.

I know. I know. It was a fleeting ache, but an ache nonetheless.

ANYWAY... Friday was Halloween. I was totally disappointed with it.

Here's why.

Trick or treat. When I was a kid, it was magical. We took off out the door, hit every house on the block (except the witches house of course and don't act like my neighborhood was the only one with a witches house) and when we came home, our parents sorted through the candy, threw out the suspicious ones and then ate until we got a tummy ache. Now, these little bastards walk up to my door, hold out their pillow case and look at me with pure evil until I put something in their bag. No trick or treat. No thank you. Just a"give me some candy bitch and maybe I wont vandalize your car" kind of glare. Some of those ungrateful little spawns of Lucifer even had the nerve to say "I don't want that kind". Suck my ball sack you creeps. You get what I have or you get nothing. Next year, you get raisins. Or better yet, a couple of pennies. Yeah. Fuck you little jerk offs. YOU GET PENNIES. HAHAHAHAHAH. Fuck trick or treaters.

Halloween costumes. I always made my daughters costume, my favorite being Dorothy. She had the blue checkered dress, her hair in pigtails and a little basket with a stuffed dog. I got cheapo tennis shoes and covered them in red glitter, and if I say so myself, she was prettier than the original. What did I get this year? A girl who works at Wendys, dressed up like a chick who works at Wendys, which makes her... how old? Whatever. Buy your own candy, you gotta job ho. I had a group of 3 boys who looked like linebackers who didn't even bother to dress up, a mother and son who just had masks on (which in of itself is fine, except the mom had a bag too, not just walking with the boy, but a BAG... again.. how old are you? Oh I digress...) Every single costume was store bought or nothing at all. Some kids even were talking on the cell phones while trick or treating, so being the
smart ass I am I asked "And what are you supposed to be?" and
without missing a beat the little bastard (I would say was about 8) says "A teenager. Is that an Iphone you got?" Fuck Halloween costumes.


Lazy parents. I am sitting on my porch, passing out candy, chatting with my crew, just clowning around, you know how it is right? So, I'm watching up and down the street, just looking at the kids, hearing their banter, and liking it when I hear "Oh lets go to that house". I notice a red truck going very slowly down the road. Kinda odd. Now remember, my neighborhood doesn't have any sidewalks. The kids play in the street, walk in the street, ride bikes in the street, you get the idea, and everyone in the neighborhood slows down (we can always tell when an "outsider" rolls through because they are driving too fast). Anyway, this red truck is going about 5 mph and as I look, I see a bunch of kids hop out of the bed of the truck, run up to the neighbors house, snag their booty and jump back in the truck. Then I hear "OK GO" and the parent starts off down the road. I was so pissed at that scene that I almost yelled "Keep on going" when they stopped in front of my house. Was it because there is no work and all reward? I think so. Fuck lazy parents.

Honorable mention for this week:

Generic garbage bags. You suck. Fuck you.

One-ply toilet paper. I'm not in prison. Fuck you.

Ramen noodles. You taste like shit and have enough sodium to choke a horse but you're cheap so I have to buy you because lets face it, you cant beat lunch for a dime. Fuck ramen noodles.

Cable TV. You are so expensive and now I have no choice after Feb. Fuck cable TV.




Friday, October 10, 2008

Holla peeps

What's a-goin' on?

I have been totally uber-busy with life in general and have kinda sorta neglected my web duties. My neopet is dying, my Texas hold 'em team is losing and my myspace friends think I'm a recluse. Good thing I am not 'cyber-married' because I would be in the cyber-divorce court as we speak, chatting about how we are going to divide our cyber-belongings and visitation with the cyber-children. You laugh but I speak the truth.

Really.

I have been absorbed with my ongoing love affair with food. Any kind, any flavor, any texture. My name is the first one on the list for the potlucks, family get togethers and bar-b-ques. I always bite off more than I can chew (literally and figuratively..wow that works on 2 levels.. rock on) but always come out smelling like _______ (insert your favorite yummy goodness; ie bacon). Thanksgiving is always at my house, as is Christmas dinner, Easter brunch, Halloween spookfests, teen age sleepovers, the Annual Amateur Porn Review Classic and all the summer bar-b-ques are catered by moi.

Every year.

No exception.
I make a mean spread yo. Momma ain't fat for no reason.

That being said, there was a sign up sheet for a potluck at work, and OH MY GAWD they asked for cupcakes.

A potluck sign up sheet to me is like a port a potty to George Michael.

Irresistible. And no matter how many times I am told to leave it alone.. I cant quit it.

The cupcakes consumed me like an all encompassing swarm of bees buzzing around in my brain. I dreamt about these cupcakes. I doodled these cupcakes, spent hours searching google for just the right picture, and bought every magazine I could get my hands on with Halloween themed treats HOPING to find just the right one.
I found them.

Yes them. I couldn't decide on just one type. Pshaw you mere mortal!! I am Vickie. I am not happy unless I have not only volunteered to make a dish, but several dishes. And dessert. And bring the drinks. And decorate. Send e-mails to all involved, coordinate the buffet table and clean up the mess. Maybe I should be a caterer? This way I can control it all.
Everything.
Under my control. *wringing hands sinisterly*

I wonder if there is a disease or condition I suffer from? Obsessive perhaps? I'm not sure, that is a google search for another day.

So my beloved offspring said she would help, and this is what we came up with.

The spider is devil's food and the ghost is red velvet. Ain't they freakin cute??



The icing on the spiders took an entire bottle of icing color. Not quite as thin as normal egg food coloring, but way intense. It stains everything it comes into contact with, whether it be clothes, my kitchen table, your teeth or your skin.

This started out because she got some icing on her finger. When she realized how dark it turned her tongue, she then decided to drop a rather large dollop in her mouth. You can't tell from the picture, but it turned her teeth and gums a horrendous gray-ish mottled color.



The next batch of cupcakes were the red velvet ones, and as she was licking the beaters, the bowl and the spatula, she noticed her tongue was turning red too.



Here is close up of just the ghost. At the potluck I put up a sign that said "BEWARE SPIDERS WILL STAIN YOUR TEETH YOUR CLOTHES AND ANYTHING ELSE IT TOUCHES YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED" because I didn't want anyone bitchin' at me if they spilled icing and it stained their clothes, or if they had gray teeth the rest of the day. I think it scared everyone because no one wanted to eat them, every single person wanted to take them home.

Now all of a sudden, like 6 people came up to me and said "Hey can you make me a cake?" As if.

But again, my mouth spoke before my brain could catch up and next thing I know, I got 3 emails in my inbox asking for specs on price and style.

Eff me in the A.

I'm no Chef Duff. I'm not Martha Stewart. I'm not even RoseAnn Barr circa 1984. What the hecks am I gonna do?

Crap. The buzzing is back.

Must google soccer cake.

Must google.

Must.

M.....