I'm in Heat

Oh boy. It's so hot. I mean seriously the devil himself would probably want to vacay in Antarctica. I am in heat. I hate the heat! I do seriously. Where am I at you wonder? Oh, just in Tennessee. Home to the Smokey Mountains, land of nothing. It has been scorching here. Like 98 with a heat index of 110 and its only going to get worse. Now, I know that all my peeps from Texas, Arizona or Mexico are gonna be all up in my grill about "you don't know heat missy." Well, okay but with 80 percent humidity the whole state is a human sweat lodge.

There is nothing fun about it if you asked me. Just this weekend I researched new deodorant. My lady speed stick is not keeping me dry. Yes, I don't have the white arm pit syndrome, but I hate driving down the road with the AC on max and lift my arms and a cold blast hits or having sweat rings in your fabulous t shirts. It's not working. So, I bought Secret Outlast. Smells good that's about all I can attest to at this moment. 

I am surprised that women everywhere aren't spraying themselves down with Hawaiian Tropic, throwing on the bikini and trying catch the rays threw their windshields on the way to and from work. Although truckers everywhere would love it.

I can't do anything with my hair with this humidity. I can flat iron the bullshit out of it, put every product in it there is and by the end of the car ride home, I look like Buckwheat from The Little Rascals who is pretty cute by the way. I mean you can only wear a pony tail for so long before you start looking like a peeled onion.

I am pretty sure that it drains all the energy out of my body. It makes me tired and lazy. I am developing narcolepsy as we speak. 

I don't dare fart for fear of burning a hole in my underwear although the idea seems good at the moment, instant ventilation.

And I would almost be tempted to start up a nudist colony but I am afraid to see what's behind the bushes (yes, pun intended). 

Seriously, I am in heat, and the only thing stuck to me is my frickin' clothes. I hate it. I am bringing sexy back with a parka.

This is my fashion post, Wednesday, just thinking about clothes makes me hot,

Dusty

Twat Waffle

Okay, so last week Lindsey over at A Little Bit of Life sent me this and said, "Dusty, I can so see you saying this." And what do you know after I Iaughed hysterically, I told her she was completely right and then we proceeded to have an hour long conversation about it.

So I put my theory to the test. I walked in looked at Duh and said, "Libby (worthless guard dog #2 for those that are new) is a twat waffle." He said, "a what?" I said, "a twat waffle." He just rolled his eyes. Not to be defeated, I walked out and walked back in and tried again. He was unenthused because he thinks I am nuts and I said, "fine, me and the twat waffle are going to sleep on the couch." In which he said, "fine you and the waffle go sleep on the couch." Ugh, Twat Waffle get it right if you're going to play along!"

Then I asked my friend Becca to use it in a sentence. She writes, "It's so hot I could melt butter on my twat waffles." Bahaha. I tried to get my crazy cousin Rachel involved, but she didn't answer my text. She must have something more unimportant to do than my antics.

But don't take it as something perverted. I think it can be used in many ways. I said, good morning to all my Twat Waffles on Twitter. In which Shannon says, "do you know how many people I want to call this today?" Oops! But she used it her way.

It also brings people together. My new beautiful bauble head swap sister, Tabitha over at My Cliffnotes  and I hit it off right way over Twat Waffles. I sent her the most adorable email filled with love (which translates to BS) and now we are off and running! We bonded over Twat Waffles. 

So see, it can be used as a good term or bad depending on how you look at it.I am sure it would be hilarious to see two hoochy moma's get in a fight and one call the other a twat waffle. But I say it lovingly, with the upmost respect and feeling. I also laugh out loud every time I do.

Happy Tuesday, Twat Waffles,

Dusty

9-1-1 What?

Sup! It's Monday! Sup! Shhh, story time. A few months back we had some people that were throwing cans at our house. Yes, you read that right. Throwing cans at our house. Why? Well, the mental capacity was apparently zero and they thought it was fun. I mean there are starving children in the world and they throw canned salmon at my house. Note to idiots I don't eat canned salmon. I called Duh and told him what happened in which he proceeds to tell me to go outside and see if our gate was still locked. I am no dummy. I watched the Scream movies. You go outside and you get kilt. So I said, uh, no and he called the neighbor and the police. After standing out on my back lawn screaming at the top of my lungs at these crazy people in which the lights all started to flip on in the neighborhood (I am now known as the crazy lady in the brown house, so proud), the police arrive at the wrong house. After motioning them to the correct house they came over, took my statement, went over to the house that was launching bombs and found that no one was so conveniently home. Funny, we saw them turn all the lights off. Well, long story short, they moved shortly after. But it made me think about our 911 system. So I decided to come up with a new improved version that will help the po-po's out and maybe increase response time. 

Here in Nashville, they all of the time are stressing to not call 911 unless it's a dire emergency to call the police hot line. Uh, really good plan. So here are the options I think would help out our serve and protectors.

"Ring, Ring" You have reached the 911 calling system. Please listen to the following options. 

For I shot the bitch, press 1 then the pound sign.

For I am so annoyed with the dogs constant barking and cats getting into my trash. Press 2 for poison control. They should be able to tell which chemicals to use to make an animal have the shits but do no harm then press the pound sign.

For my girlfriend stole my Nike Air Jordan collector shoes, check book and ran off with my neighbor press 3 and the pound sign.

For excessive noise maker by Karokee and/or redneck boom box coming from tall vehicles with mud flaps after college football game press 4 and the pound sign.

If you have dialed this number because your high as a giraffe's ass and drunk off your rocker, press 5 to be disconnected. You obviously butt dialed the Emergency Management System when you fell off the sidewalk. 

I am thinking this system could elevate all the useless explaining to the dispatcher and the police can react to our calls within a reasonable amount of time. 

Oh, and there should be survey involved. The Emergency Management System would like for you to take a brief survey to rate our fine response time. Press 6 and leave your comments after the tone. Press pound when you are finished. "Hey police department Fuh..beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! Hmm, I, think my call was dropped or I entered into a dead zone.

Happy Monday,

Dusty

From Blog Life to Real Life Link Partay

So when I saw this link up announcement I thought it would be a blastola. I link up with different people but this should be a fun way to get to know what other people  Here's the 411 from the 

This little questionnaire will be so fun because once you fill it out, you can run over to their blog and let them know you answered a question about them! It will be so fun to see what all of your friends are putting, and hey, the best part is that you get to meet some new bloggers in process. It's a win-win!

Here are the questions below! I hope you guys have so much fun answering them and letting your friends know that you may secretly want to raid their closet or be on the same reality show :)

The Questions:


1. Do you have any real life blog friends? Yes, I mean one's I chat with on a daily basis but haven't met because they all live miles away. Texas, Utah, Oregon, South Carolina, West Virginia, but I am hoping to meet up with Justyn and Nikki this year if the clouds move the right way.


2. Which blogger are you just dying to meet? Oh, gosh this is tough because there are several. I am going to say all of them. I am a people person. There's enough of me to go around.

3. Which blogger's closet do you want to raid? Emmett over at Hippie Lace I heart her alot and am trying to convince her to send me her whole wardrobe. She was one of my first fashion bloggers I followed and she's stuck with me. Then there is Marion over at Marion Berry Style. Seriously, I am trying to get her to trade legs with me but I think she's not going to give in. 

4. You are stuck on an island. Which blogger would you want with you to help you survive? Twiggy, The Dirt Life. She can climb mountains and I pretty sure talk to the wild. Shay, Red Lipstick and Melodies  because she would have a stash of candy we could live on for a while, and Whitney, As Luck Would Have it because she could build us a bike out of bamboo.


5. The first blogger you remember "meeting" and connecting with ? MaKaila, Distincly M. There is no doubt about it. I love this girl. We chat daily and give each other advice. Just general conversation. She is one of my bloggy BFF's.I will meet her one of these dayz. I admire her so much and think she is one of the most beautiful people. Hello, People Magazine, here she is.


6. Any blogger that you admire and look up to? No question, Ruthie Hart! Ruthie Hart! The Chronicles of Ruthie Hart. She was the first blogger to help me, give me advice, be kind and generous when other bloggers wouldn't even email me back (that's right you big time witches, be kind to the little folk). I think she has to be an inspiration to a lot of people and I reckon I will share. She is the most genuine person. I hope I meet her one day.


7. Who is the craziest/funniest blogger? Jes, Two Smuppies I love that she is carefree and fun. We are bloggy friends and I love her. 


8. There's a reality television show for bloggers, who would you want to be casted with you? Shanna, Because Shanna Said So, oh the fun we would have, trading clothes because she's beautimus and stylish (which means me stealing them) and then we'd probably be escorted off the show. I seriously picture slumber parties with her and laughing so hard we snort, Jamie, Mrs. Independent, because we can pretend to be Housewives and prank people, Shannon, Bungalow 960 because she's really smart and could keep us all settled and calm, Meg, Henning Love, she cooks, Duh! Miki, Becoming What I Always Was, she would bring her dog, Tiffany, The Coffee House, she's got sarcasm, Kelsey, A Muse In Purple, we can cuss under our breath together.


9. Some bloggers have really cool jobs, anybody you'd like to swap careers with? Any blogger who doesn't work and is independently wealthy. Go ahead and send me an email. I have credentials ready to be lazy.


10. Favorite blog design? Julie, The Funny Thing Of It Is and Amanda, Maggiano Takes Austin.


Oh, I added a question. 


11. Bloggers that peak your interest? Lindsey, A Little Bit of Life, Marcie Jean,Sigh and Sanity, and Kristen, This Radiant Life

So there you have it, now that doesn't mean that the other blogs I follow don't get me all stinked up. Cause I love them. I do! And I am sure in time, I will most defiantly get to fill in the blanks with, "yes, they are all my blogger friends!" Go over and see these chicks! I made it easy and linked 'em up.

Happy Thursday,

Dusty

Santa is a.....

This past week I was talking about someone and made reference to a mooch hooker. Yeah, I know another Dusty saying. Then I pretty much had to come up with a reasoning behind it or who for example could be a mooch hooker and my answer is Santa! 

I have come to the conclusion that Santa is a prostitute. I mean seriously who other than God does a kid age 2 until about 10 does a kid look up to just as much but a fat man in a suit that brings so called free gifts. Every year he hooks himself out. Really? Yes, think about it. Starting the day after Thanksgiving, the man basically turns into a male ho ho and who takes advantage of it? All the mothers out there that want the imaginary gift of sugar plums and candy canes dancing in our kids heads. Last year alone, we paid out about $500 smacks to this guy. Talk about bend over and not get kissed. I wonder if I walk into Toys R Us and tell him to give me a good spanking if I'd get arrested? 

He has the best set up a mooch hooker could have. He sells his face and body to every retail store across the country. Sets on a chair for kids and drunk women to have their picture taken and for a whopping $5 dollars, you get a Polaroid picture for life. I don't know many prostitutes that want their picture taken and posted on a Christmas card with the words, "have a great holiday season". 

Santa's also bad for the environment. We have all these tree huggers claiming global warming and he's the worst violator there is. He prints his face on every roll of wrapping paper and I being a good paying desperate customer, buy the shit up and wrap the kids gifts in this hookers paper all so my kid will feel the joy of hard work by the pimp and his elves. Two hundred and fifty square feet of a paper to wrap a non-recyclable box with a wooden toy train in is one whole tree that could have lived and provided oxygen for my kid. Great now he's taking the air away for me to breath. I mean we go to the dump to take our trash off and the dumpster biatch screams we must put the plastic in this dumpster and the cardboard over across the lot, but Santa kills a forest for monetary gain and its perfectly fine. 

The only person that really has the best deal out of all this is Mrs. Claus. I mean her husband  brings home the bacon and fries it up in the pan and you can't tell me she is just happy that all the kids out there in the world made the list. I believe she goes over to the land of misfit toys and has either her way with the lion emperorer or the pink polka dotted elephant makes her a present that starts up with about 110 volts. 

The only person in this world that can get away with selling his soul to the whole population and do it with a smile on his face and a fat belly. 

So think about this when December 24th rolls around, he turns his only trick of the year and you're opening that beautiful gift with his face on it. You just paid a mooch hooker.

Happy Tuesday,

Dusty

The Mushy Pecker

You know when two minds get together, it's amazing what you can come up with. I imagine this is what some of the great inventors of the world came to the conclusion of although not via email. Last week, Jes wrote a post about men and women and the historic ways of communication between the two. I made a comment on that post that men in general after fighting with a woman basically think that make up s.e.x makes things all better. It got me to thinking. Thus began a new venture. I am the brains and she will handle the money. Oh, and all customer service calls.

Now ladies we all know that this is true. You get in a fight. You're still steaming. The man for some reason is turned on by this, yet thinks that becoming the minute man at the gas station of love will make you in a good mood. Thus this new product will help settle the score. 

It's called the Fake a Period Kit. For a mere $5.99 you can buy a kit that comes with three fake tampon strings and adhesive. All you have to do is say, "honey with your teeth gritted, I am so sorry but I am on my period or I just started my period." Here's how it works. You slip into the bathroom, pull out the fake string, place the tape on the tip of the string and stick to the vajajay or somewhere in the vicinity. When he doesn't believe you, hike that leg just enough to see the string. I mean all it will take is to see 1/2 inch of the damn thing and they will roll over and start snoring. 

If they keep on harassing you, for an extra $2.99, we will include our special potion called Stinker Juice. A small bottle of that not so fresh feeling. Dip the fake string in, stick and fo sho with one wiff this will induce the Mushy Pecker syndrome. What goes up must come down. It's our own special recipe and we cannot divulge the ingredients. 

Don't worry the adhesive will come right off after three episodes of Swamp People and they are sound asleep. You can then high five yourself for the win. I mean is this not the best invention ever? No more excuses. No more fake headaches. No more I am just too tired. The fight ends there. Pure defeat and you can stay pissed for as long as you want. Just remember the products are non-returnable or refundable and if this doesn't work for you, I recommend fighting like in the Roman days. 

Free trials are available for the Fake A Period kit. Get them while they are hot. These could sell out in minutes. Just send your money to 12345 I Fooled You Bastard Dr, Womanland, USA 00000 or to order call 1-000-IGOTYOU. 

Warning! Do not try to apply while intoxicated. It may not be believable if you are chocolate wasted with sprinkles and its stuck to your anal area.

For all the women in the world this is invention is for you! Other products such as  removable hemmoroids coming soon.

Happy Monday,

Dusty

Pondering

I am a ponderer. Is that even a word? I will be driving down the road and thoughts enter my head and think hmmm. I am a deep thinker. I over analyse. I research it. I ask people about it. I should have been a psychiatrist or a private detective. So, setting in traffic last week which is what I do every frigging day, my mind wondered. I think of things that would be great conversations amongst the girlfriends on a night gathered around with pizza and wine. But then it made me think, why wouldn't I just want to ask these questions myself. For instance...

I would like to ask God why women have so many beauty routines? I mean Adam thought Eve was hot snot and all she had on was a leaf. Do you think he saw the hair and said, um, no I don't think I will kiss you until you shave your legs. I hate to shave my legs. So why couldn't he have just said, Dusty I give you to your parents as a symbol of my love and I also grant you the amazing gift of Venus smooth legs for the rest of your life.

Why do Eskimos live in igloos? Do they still live in igloos? Are there still real life Eskimos? I  mean who thought of building a house out of ice blocks? Where did you think this was energy efficient? I am all for being green, but freezing my baguettes off isn't my kind of way to save the earth. You can put on a furry parka all you want but I wouldn't be coming over for dinner. And you build the fire outside the igloo. Hell-o people! You go inside to stay warm. I don't think the Eskimos had this plan well thought out if you ask me. 

Why didn't the Pope and Mother Teresa date? Here are two people that spread the most amazing words of love and compassion. I mean nobody would have ever believed it if they had. They are Saints. He was wearing a bed sheet, instant love nest. You mean to say they never had the urge? He didn't have passion in his pants? Wouldn't it be funny to invite her to one of those surprise girly parties and hand her a bag with a vibrator inside. That would be after we got her wasted on jello shots. Listen, I say they should have took a mule ride up to a mountain somewhere, turned on a little Marvin Gaye on the boom box, ate a little cheese and Bleeped. Of course the poor lady, she would probably have thought she got slimed by the Ghost Busters after all was said and done. Maybe we just leave that one like it is.

So see, I have a lot of time to think. Traffic is torture but it also gives me time to reflect on the utterly stupid.

You can also find me over here today talking about myself and my craziness. Thank you Justyn for asking me over. If you regret it don't tell me, I am sorta sensitive...NOT!

What a great way to start a Monday, huh?

Dusty

Disclaimer

Do you ever wonder if your blog should come with a disclaimer? I read a lot of blogs. I see that there are some that have 5,000 followers and the more I follow along, it’s the same content, but yet its cult like and the blog keeps growing and so I try my best to figure out why following these blogs are growing, does my comment really matter? Don’t get me wrong, I love blogs that feature fashion only, or mommy blogs where every single day I see your kids. Yesterday they were precious, today same pose with a kool aid mustache and a booger. Adorable, but you can only comment eighty eleven times on how cute they are before you go, “hey, you bakin’ some cookies or something with a recipe?"

What draws a person to a blog? I follow some blogs that are in a total different language. Sometimes I hit the button and translate them, and then sometimes I just pretend I can read it for shits and giggles. I can’t speak Portuguese (I had to even check how to spell it), but hot dang they sure have some beautiful skinny ass girls, with cool style. And then I wonder, do they work or just set around all day looking fabulous, standing on cobblestone streets having someone take their picture. But being the sucker I am and one third un-American for pretending to read foreign blogs, I sign up because one day I should probably get a style idea or two. Somedays, I just superimpose my face on their face. You know in my dreams?

For a month in my que I have a post about the show “Sister Wives”. I have been hesitant because I don’t know if any of my blogger friends have family members that live this lifestyle, have friends that are friends with that families dog’s former roommate. So, you stand on a fine line wondering who you might offend or get an ugly comment from with the content of your blog. And let me just throw this out there because you may just someday see that post. Ain’t no man got a golden dong to warrant five wives.  I mean in potato chip land that's called double dipping. And I totally expect that someday, we gonna see a cat fight worthy of a Lifetime movie mystery because wifey poo #3  is gonna snap when he brings in little Miss 19 year old with perky tits and breeding thighs to put a turkey to shame. Just sayin’… and now that I said it, do I need to add a disclaimer?

I want my blog to grow. I would love 5000 followers, and I set down and wonder why some blogs grow at a rapid pace and then I feel like I am at turtle speed. I guess I should apologize for not publishing my kid’s every move, or posting my financial hardships to gain sponsorship, not being team player when it comes to my personal fashion posts because I am still a little insecure about posting my own taste in clothing, cussing, or maybe just not being serious enough. So, if you want a disclaimer, here it is.

Warning: This blog is not for the ordinarily prim or proper. It contains explicit material that will make you crap your pants from laughter or cause you to have dry mouth syndrome from dropping open. The Owner if this blog takes no responsibility for the faint of heart or how serious daily life is as she’s fit. She makes no apologies for her opinion, wardrobe or serious family issues and hopes that continued followers spread the love like a CEO to a hooker on pay day.

Sincerely,

Dusty

My Day with Barbara Wa Wa

At the end of 2011, Barbara Walters always does her special of the 10 Most Fascinating People. The famous who have made an impact on the world or are just plain intriguing. Because her special is compiled into two hours, there is lost footage of people that didn't make the cut. And wouldn't you know it, I am one of those people. I thought I would share my interview with all of you. You know because I'm Not Famous...Yet.

It begins with her introduction of me and where it all began........

Born in Kansas, Dusty was a little bit. Her mother and father traveled across the country in a Ford Falcon in 110 degree heat to Tennessee and settled in Carthage. She was an adorable child with curly brown hair and baby blue eyes. Her mother knew from the start she probably wouldn't be famous.

Babs: You grew up in a small town. Where you popular in school? Did you make good grades? When did it click with you had the special gift of the ordinary?

Me: My town was put on the map because our former Vice President Al Gore resided there.   The shoe store where we bought clothes changed their name to the Al Gore store. That was pretty exciting. For me, I was a quiet child. I once won the county 4-H contest with my poster of the clover that represented the 4-H symbol. It involved alot of glitter. My grades were average. I often felt like I was a genious, so I didn't put too much effort into school. I think I was 57th in my graduating class. Pretty awesome huh? I remember it was just one of the days of the week, when it clicked that I was just ordinary. Pretty life changing. I thought to myself, gosh to be just like any other person is pretty spectacular.

Me: Oh, my look at that picture. I think I was in 2nd grade. That's when the pealed onion hair look was popular. That's when your mom didn't have time to comb your hair, so she she slicked it back into barrettes. And look, white eyelet.I was such a trend setter then. And now its back in style. I should add style icon to my list of accolades. 

Babs: Growing up you had a brother and sister with you being the oldest. Where you always the center of attention? 

Me: Oh, my goodness, no. As you can see here I am in the center. I was so shy. I did my best to steer clear of the camera. My sister was adorable and so vocal. She bawled until the age of three. We didn't know what color her eyes were for the longest time. And my brother was the favorite I am sure and you can tell here he loved his sisters so much. I was pretty talented though. I learned to play the piano, sort of. I remember at my piano recital and I heard all the applause after I played "From a Wigwam." That song still gives me chills to this day and I could have went on to put out a an album, "Chopsticks", but I liked being just ordinary.   

Babs: Here you are far right. As you got older you entered a few pageants. Did that give you confidence?

Me: Being a Tater Queen was just a platform for greater things to come. I remember thinking in this moment how I wished I was at the local dam drinking beer, smoking cigarettes and hanging with my friends. That was a great influence for other girls everywhere. I was very passionate about fixing all the potholes in the county. A great platform for the future politicians to come.

Babs: So now that you are older and have a family, what is like being so ordinary. Can you just go hang out, shop, be with your friends without being noticed? 

Me: Well, sometimes its hard. 

Babs: Dusty asked us not to show her home. It has a pool in the back yard and fears that all the neighborhood kids want will want to come and hang out then, she would have to expose her private life to other neighbors and become friends.

Me: I mean going to Wal-mart is surreal. If you walk in with your sunglasses on, then the door greeter either thinks your going to rob the place or wants your autograph. The last three weeks after the tornado, we have had about 10 people stop by our house to give us estimates on hail damage. I am pretty sure that's a cover up and they know how ordinary I am and just want my money. Sometimes we have to go incognito when we go out. 

Me: Here we are pretending to be from the Wild West. It's just what we have to do to survive in the ordinary world of the paparazzi. 

Babs: So, as we end this interview, where do you see yourself? I mean being so famously ordinary has to be hard. People will surely want your plain life and will probably continue to be not interested in everything you do. How do you just be normal?

Me: We survive with a lot of laughter. What I have is extra ordinary. We are full love. I just have to give into being so poplar in an ordinary world and be me. I have the greatest family and friends and just because I drive a Honda and shop at fancy places like JC Penney's doesn't make me any different. 

I hope all of my fans have an ordinary day. I am sure Babs would gladly give the transcripts away for this interview for free, bitch didn't even ask for my autograph.

Happy Monday,

Dusty

Fighting Crime

Fighting crime is so hard. Here's how the shake down happened.

Wanted

If you have seen this kid, he's in violation of 

Pillow Pet Neglect

After receiving the call from Charlie

The suspect was spotted in Five Guys

I decided in order to perform the stake out to the best of my ability

A good Angel has to fuel up and keep her fluffy

in bouncy mode. 

Suspect was not spotted in Orlando, Florida either

He was eventually caught

at home eating one of his mom's easy peasy

creations, croissants heated in the oven

and spread with honey

Being a Charlie's Angel is so rewarding

Ian took this picture then charged me with

impersonating Farrah Fawcett.

I guess we are even!

Have a great weekend everyone!

Dusty

linked up life rearranged

Man Land

Did everyone have a great weekend? I did. Although the weather didn't cooperate always, we did manage to have some sunshine and out door time. My son plays PW7 baseball and had a scrimmage game yesterday afternoon. Being southern, I of course got up and curled my hair for it. I also got hit in the face with a little reality yesterday and it got me to thinking. Oh, shit right? I am the typical mother on the bleachers, screaming her head off during a game. They have had a total of 3 practices and I know every kids name on his team. I know a little over the top, but necessary in my quest to look like the crazy mother. 

As we walked with Ian to the field, we walked into the stands and right then and there I realized that I became the uncool mom. He sees his friends and I don't exist. He entered "man land". Man land you say? Well, let me explain. Men have a different approach than women and it starts at an early age. I noticed a lot of fist to fist contact. What is that? Are they activating special powers? I also saw a group of 7 years all adjusting themselves repeatedly. This apparently starts at birth and doesn't change. I look up and my son is scratching and moving things around the zoo area. I want to yell across the field and tell him that its not going anywhere, to back away from the goober. I don't understand this. Men can walk around adjust, lifting, settling and scratching there stuffs. But if a women walked around doing the same, we would be talked about and bestowed that we have crotch rot. Seriously, I double dog Oreo dare any of you lovelies to go to the mall and walk around and do all of the above and see what reaction you would get. I would personally bust out laughing but I find humor in the strangest things. If anyone stops you just say, I am trying out a new FDS wash and I am pressing the button so I can get a wiff of that fresh spring scent. You know like a Febreeze air freshener. 

Men also have "the greeting." They see each other assume the position with this hand to hand contact like they are about to arm wrestle, move in bump one shoulder with the other hand doing two pats on the shoulder, but far enough away that they don't invade each other's space and ends with "what's up bro?" The answer, "not much bro, just hanging in there." "Yeah, me too". Not women especially southern women. We see a girl that we haven't ran into in ages, run up with our arms wide open and revert to the high pitch hello,    and our language goes from six syllables to ten. "Oh, my gawd, how are uuuuuuuuuuuuu? Look at cheeeewwww? You look so pretty. You are so skinny, I love your hair!" Which means with the bubble above your head, OMG, the last time I saw you, you had a bad Toni home perm, your ass was fat, you had a crater face and drove an ugly car. What man did you marry with money that took you out of the depths of despair? This is all true and you know it. 

Why is man land easier? They can walk into a bathroom with urinals lined against the walls. With the monster hanging out, they pee at the same time and have conversation. Imagine no bathroom stall doors in the women's restroom. Awkward huh? You walk into a toilet for your 9 am poo, another women walks in, sets down beside you. You would be right next to another women in the wide open. You would have to do the only thing necessary. You would have to look at her and say, "look, I just got out of a meeting where I have held this for an hour and drank 3 cups of coffee. Are you gonna drop the kids off at the pool first or am I? And by the way, I sat down before looking and there's no toilet paper, can you hand me some over?" At that point you would have to revert to rock, paper, scissors. Dynamite blows up paper, so let 'er rip. Thank god for stalls and doors. Because normally, you just set there until they leave or repeatedly flush so that person doesn't hear it or one time a lady actually apologized to me for being so loud. See even when we crap, we apologize for it. Men don't, they say, dude that was powerful, laugh and move on.

So, as I realize my son is growing up, he will be a part of the man land club. That's its okay, to scratch, poop openly, fist pump at stupid, have a two second unemotional hug, and marry little Suzy from the trailer park and want to turn her into a trophy wife. He will bring her home for Thanksgiving and I will repeat the cycle..."oh, my gawd, look at cheeeewwww, aren't you just the cutest thing!" When the bubble above my head says, "you hurt my son and you die a slow hard death by a poisoned manicure and bad Toni home perm!"

Have a great Monday!

Dusty

My week in an Insta

My week in an Insta

The strangest thing happened

I was arrested on Mars

this is my mugshot

They fed me eggs in jail

They thought this beauty was a spy from Russia

realized I was just crazy

wrote me a ticket for speeding, released me 

and sent me on my way

Have a great weekend!

Dusty

Plant Whisperer

I love women that are domesticated.The ones who can raise 2.5 children, bring home the bacon, keep the house white glove clean and still manage to hot roll their hair to perfection by the 7 pm dinner party with the next door neighbors. I on the other hand am not one of them. I can barely function in the mornings enough to straighten my hair, make sure my son's teeth aren't turning yellow, dab some powder on my nose and out the door I go. So, it was no surprise that when I looked up one day last week and notice that the plant that everyone told me would need no tender loving care was dead as a door nail. 

I am not a plant person, hell I am barely a dirt person period. I wasn't sure what to do. I stood there looking at it scratching my head thinking, hmmm? I don't have a trash bag large enough to throw it away, I am pretty sure my son's vitamins won't revive it, do I call my mother, friends, aunts or cousins? I mean I killed a cactus once for god sakes. That's right a cactus. See I have got an eclectic family. Free spirited would be a pretty good word. One of my family members had this wife or was it a girlfriend? I can't remember. He's a stud muffin and its okay, I like meeting new people. Anyway, she gave me a cactus. Being nice I took it home in its pot, set it on my patio and left it for dead. It survived the cold winter and spring, so one day during the super hot summer I gave it some water. The next day, I looked at it and it was dried up worse than Sharpei puppy. The pot and the brown stick went to the silver can for Monday morning pickup. 

I claim to be a rose connoisseur. I once had 7 rose bushes at my house. In full bloom, they were beautiful. People always asked me how I raised such beautiful roses. I lied. I told them I watered them every day and fed them miracle grow. Truth is I didn't do jack shit. If they survived the summer with the tweedle bugs and the winter then I felt like I was a prize winning rose grower. If it was up to me the only water they would get was when it rained. Actually, "Duh" waters them, I just clip and set them on the table to look pretty. 

So I am standing over this plant all drooped over with pieces of missing leaves and bite marks where the dog has obviously been taking a few nibbles, wondering what do I do. It's kind of special plant, I got it when my step dad passed away in January. The fact it even lived this long was an accomplishment. I was torn because it was a reminder of him but then it made me sad that this was all I had from that day. The plant and I chat. I lifted up its leaves, held it and made a deal. I said, "Plant, I think I am going to give you some water." So I filled up a rather large pitcher full of water and poured it in. I explained that if not better in two days, I would have to take it to a place where it probably get tossed around like yesterdays garbage and it wasn't a happy place..the dump. Low and behold, two days later, its leaves were standing straight up, all green, vibrant and frisky. That's the day I proclaimed myself the "Plant Whisperer." Who knew? I love the discovery of special gifts. I often think I have premonitions, but to have this gift is amazing. Move over Dog Talker guy, I am coming for ya. 

I am not one with nature and yet, a few drops of dew and a soft voice and I brought something precious back to life. Yeah, I know a crock of crap, but it sounded good and I made all the earth saving peeps happy. I love it when two worlds collide. 

Do you have any extraordinary gifts? I have so many more to share. Have a great Monday and remember save a plant, ride a cowboy.

Tree Hugs,

Dusty

No Thong Zone

Did everyone have a great weekend? Oh, mine was another adventure, but that's for another day. Let's just say a trip to the vet and my dog apparently has a hemorrhoid like her mother. It's true. Dogs get the dangling death or the equivalent of them like in humans, so she also has problems with her anus. We are a team. Apparently, my dogs and I share so much. Last month, I had to share maxi pads with the one on her period and now the oldest lab has anal seepage. We are NOT sharing the same medicine. I love her so much but I am not giving up my Prep H. Call me selfish, but she can drag her ass and make it feel better. I, for reasons only known by God, cannot do the same. This is just delish. But back to the original story. 

Last weekend, I had to go exchange some jeans that I had ordered on-line. You remember those flared LC jeans I featured in my blog? Well, the jeans and fluffy didn't get along so I tried to return them for another size, but to no avail, other people seem to have a fluff problem, so I just got my money back. Figuring I had $34 smacks, I would look around. I see this cute dress for summer but only on the mannequin, so a nice middle aged lady came over and I asked if she could get it down. I look at it and am pretty convinced I will buy it since it was $21 smacks and then she says, "well its pretty sheer, you  might want to check out our intimate department and get a t-strap to go with it." Huh? A t-strap? Why in the world would I wear a jock strap with this dress. So I said, you mean a thong? She said, "yes, those things that young women wear so they have no panty lines." Looking at her like she had four heads, I mean she was a blue hair telling me I should wear a thong, knowing she probably has on exactly what I have on...granny panties, I wondered over. 

Let me tell you its been years since I wore one of those t-straps. I think after a certain age, you just don't and second, she obviously didn't take a gander at my milkshake. I put on a thong and I am sure it would get lost somewhere amongst the massive cinnabons I am lugging around. Plus, I need something a little tight across thy skin because when I walk, it looks like two pigs fighting over a piece of cornbread. I carry the dress across the store, go  take a peak. Memories started to pour in and I then remembered distinctly why I don't wear them anymore. First, my butt crack doesn't need dental care. Second, with the current ailment, I don't think it would be a healing process to wear it. 

I browse through a few and then it brings me back to the time, a few of my fabulous friends went to Atlanta for a girls weekend. My aunt, cousin and I stayed in a room together. We ended up at Coyote Ugly. Several drinks and shots later, we come back to the hotel after dancing enough to be the spot light of the original show and the hotel. We go to get dressed for bed and my cousin goes to put on her pj's, I look up and she has on this matching lime green bra and thong. All of the sudden I blurted out, "oh my god your ass looks like it just swallowed Kermet the Frog!" After many minutes of uncontrollable laughing, snorting and silence with laughing again, we passed out from exhaustion from the giggles. That's when I gave up the thong. See I had worn one that night as well and all the dancing and repeated digging the next morning was uncomfortable, but seeing someone else's butt swallow a granny smith apple put it perspective. I never looked at my own butt to see what it looked like but seeing her butt, I realized, there is nothing beautimus about anyone's hiney. It's two mounds of dough divided by a line a fabric. I, from that point forward entered the "No Thong Zone." I tried boyfriend undies once but because my butt looks like a busted can of biscuits in them, they just rolled up on the sides and those went to the trash. These underwear are only meant for horn dog men, to look pretty and be gone in two point two seconds. They aren't for long term use. 

So, I wandered back over to the section, put the dress back and walked out. I am trying to convince myself that the dress could be worn without the usage of a t-strap, but because the help even mentioned it, I was detoured. Sorry, Kohls, but Mee Ma helped bring back painful memories and you lost the sale on that day. I may be back or order it on-line that way when I receive it at home I can throw on my granny panties and walk around to see the jiggle factor and shine a light on the dress to see if you can observe my wassa or not. 

I am proud to have entered the "No Thong Zone" even if it makes me un-hip, not sexy or it saves one frog in this world.

Happy Monday!

Dusty 

Conversation with Dusty

Hello, Friday, I heart you, forever. I wish I had a trapper keeper and I would write it on there with a big heart around it. I have a few things I wanted to post on this day, but instead I thought I would share some funnies for the weekend. 


So, don't think I am a whackadoodle, but I have been obsessed ever since I saw the picture of Whitney Houston in her casket. Has anyone seen it? National Enquirer posted this picture of her that someone took. First, yeah, it's not nice but curiosity killed this cat and I totally looked. I wasn't wigged out by the thought of her lying there. I focused in on her hair. I know, really Dusty? Yes, I am so pissed off. I mean she was kind of like Elvis. I thought I would see her all fluffed up with a white jumpsuit and cape instead her hair is swirled up like what us crackers would call a french knot and she's got on a purple Barney dress. So, to validate my craziness I enlisted a few of my friends in the conversation. Here's how it played out.


Conversation #1 with Becca who knows me probably better than anyone, so believe me this doesn't surprise her when I ask questions like this. Plus, she is one of the calmest people I know. She sometimes looks at me like I have four heads and most of our conversations usually end with her saying "you ain't right."


Me: Have you seen the picture of Whitney in her casket?
B: Yes
Me: Did you see her hair? It's awful.
B: You not a fan of the bee hive?
Me: No, who would do her hair like that? I am going to ask my cousin Rachel. She knows everything about celebrities even down to Brad Pitt's birthday.
B: What's wrong with knowing celebrities birthday's? Jon Bon Jovi's birthday is coming up.
Me: I know he shares the same birthday with someone else I know. 


End of conversation. Total fail. Happy Birthday Becca. I love you so much! Today is her birthday. She and Jon Bon Jovi.


Conversation #2 with Wendy. My wonderful friend who drifts as much as I do. But she to understands my sense of humor. And starts a conversation when she calls you on the phone exactly where you left off from text.


Me: Did you see the picture of Whitney in her casket?
W: No, I only saw seen of scenes.
Me: What the f..k is a scene?
W: Of her in the bathtub.
Me: Well, I will send it too you.  I couldn't send from my phone but she ended up finding it. (2 hours later the phone rings..remember what I said in the opening sentence)
W: So, yes. I saw it. She looks awful. 
Me: Who would do her hair like that?
W: Well, this is what they did. (Being a hairstylist starts describing how they styled it)
Me: I don't give a rats ass how they styled it hun, who authorized that hair style?
W: Have you got your motor running? 
Me: Where are you at?
W: At home talking to Harley.
End of conversation, that ended with her talking to her cat. Total Fail.


Conversation #3 with my cousin Rachel. Rachel is full of useless knowledge. She is just as enthralled with celebrity smut as I am. She to understands my conversations. We have them often. We are cousins and best friends. She also has 3 children. Saint she is. 


Me: Have you seen the picture of Whitney in her casket from the National Enquirer?
R: The only one I saw was from the National Enquirer.
Me: Duh, Yes, that's it.
R: You know Bobby Brown took that picture.
Me: I don't care about who took it. Did you see her hair?
R: Yeah, its kind of 50's looking.
Me: Who would do her hair like that?
R: Well, I think she has someone that always did her hair.
Me: But why would they make her look like one of the Supreme's? (insert lots of laughter)
R: Uh, yeah. I don't know.
Me: I think they should go dig her up and redo her hair. She should look like a superstar. Call someone to come and give her some beachy waves then put her back.
R: Uh, yeah. Did you see that interview with Lindsey Lohan?
Me: No, she's a puffer.
R: Oh, girl you should look it up. They want her to play Elizabeth Taylor in a movie.
Me: I will have to look it up. 
R: You need to look it up. Don't forget tornado's tomorrow on Dr. Seuss's Day. 
Me: Yeah, Ian has to wear pajamas. 
R: Yes, well, I gotta go beat my children now. 
Me: Okay, love you.
R: Love you too.


Conversation ended. Total fail. Although we did agree she needed a different hairstyle and there was a long silence when I said she needed to be dug up and her hair redone. Oh, well, this will just have to be something for the record books because I got no where. But they understood because it came from me.


And finally, for Shaylynn. I heard yesterday Snooki was pregnant. After reading Shay's blog yesterday and snorting out loud. I decided to share my favorite Snooki moment.

So if anyone is wondering, I think the baby daddy is a tree. Seriously, when the kid is 2 he will be taller than she is right now. 


Thus ends conversation with Dusty. I hope everyone has wonderful weekend. 

Hugs,

Dusty

Hello Friday, I've needed you!

TGIF! I know everyone is saying that today. I don't anyone that says, "Oh, I love you Tuesday, thank Gawd your here." Why? Cause that be tupid! It's going be cold here in the land of Tennessee like a low of 19 Saturday night, so my very fluffy ass will be setting in the homestead with a blazing fire, probably reading blogs, Pinteresting and contemplating a workout plan. After this week, I got get moving. We are going to the beach and  fluff muffin needs to move it. 

I have one little announcement, its just so huge. I realized I have wrote my 100th blog post. Actually 104. I missed it. But I thought I would jump well, mimic jumping and share that exciting, drink worthy news. What the heck, I am going to have a Mt. Dew for the occasion. 

Well, last week I did a post where I picked my top favorite blog posts and had from my standards a great response, so I thought I would do it again. Only this time, I am going to pick three that way you don't get bored to death before the end of this 104th post. If you are one of my beautiful followers, then just leave me some love anyway. It's share day and I know you got the memo.

Stupid Cool

Read it and find out if your Stupid Cool

Smashing Party

My experience with a mammogram

Ditch the LBD

My ousting of the little black dress

So there you have it. I hope you have a great weekend. Fluffy here is going to do the best she can at doing nothing which will end up being something. Happy Friday, friends.

Back in the Beginning

I have gained some awesome followers the last few weeks. I am one of those ding dongs that when I join a blog,  basically the whole weekend is spent going threw the whole kit n kaboodle. Well, maybe not every post but I will take a month pick a few posts, to get to know that person. So, I thought why wouldn't it be fun to give the newbies a quick wrap up of some of my favorite posts because in reality not everyone is a dork like me and wants to get to know everyone they read. But I am new myself, probably blogger naive and so just please let me live in this fantasy for a bit longer won't you?

Before I start, you will see on my blog I have categories. I file all my posts under one of these categories. If you click at the top, it will tell you what each category means, then you will understand why they are filed the way they are. 

So here are my top 5. Thank you everyone for following along. I have made some great friends even though I don't get to see or meet you in person. I love following your stories, fashion posts, recipes, beauty bits, inspirational words and everything in between.

What's In My Bag

My very first post. I had this in my head for weeks. I knew exactly what my first post would be.

No Leg Waxing in my Future

This was a tragedy in itself

Two Cents Thursday - Rachel Zoe edition

Although people will probably gasp..oh, how could she, its one of my best and I do like her BTW 

A Different Kind of Thankful

I read the story of this and cried my eyes out. I cannot tell you how much I love this story being an animal lover. I still look at it and my heart fills up with the hidden message of this that should be applied to friends of human kind.

What if?

One of my favorite fashion posts.

So there you have it. My top 5. Hope you enjoy and it intrigues you enough to read more. This is my shout out to all you fabulous bloggers out there! Big hugs and thank you for welcoming me into your world. 

Love you bunches,

Dusty