Favorite Easter Memory

Easter is Sunday. I know another Easter post, but I couldn't post the same day as I did the evil Peeps on Monday. Somehow it would be tainted with the thought of my favorite memory and a marshmallow beast. So I will leave you with a great story. 

"Easter time's a time for eggs and a time for eggs is Easter time." My Mee Ma would say that to us as kids. Easter has always been a favorite in our family. My grandparents loved at one time having all of us around, eating, drinking and hunting eggs. Let me sorta clarify. My grandparents were sorta Catholic. By that I mean, born and raised but they let loose when a holiday came around. So there wasn't ever a shortage of a little wine or George Dickel at our family gatherings. My family, as you have heard me speak, are free spirits. By that I mean total whackjobs. I come from a long line of craziness. Snap! But its okay because I have come to grips with it all. It's like when all of the grandchildren were born and our parents took us for our milestone check ups the doctor said, "yes, we estimate that she will be a short stumpy kid, will inherit your fluffy and be a potty mouth." Our parents left feeling proud I am sure. My mom I just know called our next door neighbor and said, "my little Dusty is growing up so fast, they predict she will say the "F" word by age 4." Moma was a bragger. 

So back to my favorite Easter memory. My Mee Ma is a pistol. She's still alive and feisty.  Pee Pa (don't you just love the names we give our grandparents in the South) was one of 10 children and Mee Ma one of 11, so to say they were sorta Catholic fits. Lunch must have been fun for my great grandparents. Anyway, it was nothing for us to set around a table, play cards, drink a little drink and discuss anything and everything. Most of the conversations in our family either came back around to perverted elements about yum yum or poop. And all of this takes place in the kitchen of course. 

So one Easter Sunday many years ago, we were setting around the table and Mee Ma and the girls where talking about men. She then proceeded to get on this kick about getting all down to business you know wink, wink bonk chicka wow wow. She wasn't afraid to get in these conversations. I look up at her kind of like well this is weird my 60 something grandmother is talking about intercourse. Any hoot, I look at her and say, "Mee Ma, it's Easter, I don't think we are supposed to talk about sex. She looked us all square in the eye and said, "Honey even Jesus rose!" Stunned we all sat there and then burst into hysterical laughter. But that's my grandmother. So see, this is where I get it from. She's a total whackadoodle and probably heavy on the totties that day, but I love her. This is also a woman who used to say, "who has more fun than us? Rabbits!" That woman had passion in her pants I tell ya. Hence why she had 5 children..sorta Catholic get it.

Anyway, I will never forget that as long as I live. I tell that story often at this time of year. And honestly, I know what Easter means and feel it in my heart, but that is funny I don't care who you are!

So, I hope you make your own Easter fun and I want to share one of my favorite Easter pictures. 

Ian circa 2006

Have a great weekend!

Dusty

The It List..Two Smuppies

So, I have decided through April I would for go my Two Cents on Thursdays and bring you my "It List." These sweet honey's asked for my button or vice versa and I believe that in this blogging community we should give back. Plus, being a good Southern girl you say thank you in your best southern drawl, raise your voice 5 octaves and pray to the sales lady at Macy's that you have extended your hand to some wonderful people. When I first started reading Jes's blog, I found her warm and cutesy. Then the more I read the funnier she got and I love her take on living with a man and her high maintenance and famous pup pup, Shark. Now I am just in love with her sweetness and if you can keep me laughing, then we are always going to be friends.

I know your going to stalk her and its perfectly okay. I will share..for once and when I read this post that she sent me, belly laughed out loud is an understatement! Take it away Jestina.....

When Dusty asked if I wanted to guest post, she said that I could guest post about whatever I wanted. At first, I considered making this all about the Doritos Locos Tacos from Taco Bell. You know, the tacos with the nacho cheese Doritos shell that have been making the rounds on the telly for your belly? Then, I decided not to. Mainly because I don't know if I want to try them out and I know talking about them for a prolonged amount of time does this to me. And because I know talking about them would lead me into thinking about those other things that have the flaming hot Frito's in them.

So then, I was back to square one.I don't know how I found my way to Dusty's blog but I, along with the rest of you followers, are probably so glad you did. Why? Scoffing. Like I have to spell it out for you. More scoffing. You want me to anyways? Fine.

For (recent) starters, she refers to her butt as Fluffy, is vocal and particular about her undergarments (and wrote a hilarious piece about it here), and just loves going to Orlando on business trips. Can we get an amen, Dusty?

With all that said, I look forward to her posts about as much as I look forward to going to Fred Meyers to buy floss. Which, let me tell you my fried pickle lover friends, is a lot. No sarcasm either. Swear it.

Once in awhile, Dusty readers are graced with her artistic abilities. And needless to say, I look forward to these moments with bells and whistles on every single one of my limbs. So in honor of those moments, I have decided to forge the both of us together in potato stick form, as this is how I have been known to draw over on my blog.

This is what I imagine our first meeting to be like:

Complete with Farrah hair, fist bumps, Hunter boots and Uggs, and of course, Prep H and tampons. 

This is what we would eat:

Fried pickles, pizza, cupcakes, and Five Guys. Are you into this stuff, Dusty? 

I hope so. Because in my potato world... you suggested all of it. And I nodded along. 

This is how we would eat:

I imagine us both to be messy eaters. 

1) Because we'd be too busy laughing at the waitress with her t-strap crack showing. 

2) Because we'd be too busy preparing for our interviews (mainly yours) with Babs WaWa.

And 3) because we'd be too busy inhaling the food to care. 

This is what Fluffy and Scruffy would look like when we stand up:

Best friends for life. Buttocks from anotha motha. 

 This is what we would use T-straps for instead of wearing them:

As headbands and face masks at her son's baseball game. 

She wants to be that crazy mom. She said so herself. And as her friend, I would do my part in helping. 

And this, this, is how we would say goodbye after our magical day together:

Two words: Belly Bump.

Manland has nothing on us. 

Cheers to us in potato stick form, Dusty.

If we were ever to meet in real life, I hope this is exactly how you picture it as well.  

I seriously think I am being honored with a wonderful award when I read this. I love this girl! And yes, Jes it's exactly how it would be and we are already friends. Thank you so much, Two Smuppies. Please everyone go over and show her some love and get all up in her business. 

Two Smuppies blog

click it, I insist

Happy Thursday,

Dusty 

You're the Key

Last week I was catching up on blogs and came across one that featured this sweet treasure. I instantly was smitten and went to the website and bought it for myself. That's right...ME, MYSELF and I. There are a ton of hidden treasures from my bloggy friends out there that I am craving. And hopefully, one day I will show this in an outfit post, once I become an unscaredy cat!

This sweet necklace is made of glazed stoneware with a beautiful greenish blue pantina. It came with small note of thanks which was the highlight. I love Etsy and can't wait to get my own goodies up one day. 

So, everyone go to NS Pottery and check out this necklace plus many other goodies that are featured. I would like to say thank you to Natalie for her wonderful talent and sharing her gift with the rest of us. The blogging community has become a large key to my heart and I am so grateful for all those that care enough for five hot minutes to pay attention to my blog and my adventure. 

Big hugs,

Dusty

Survivor Me?

I would like to think I could do anything if I set my mind to it and that includes the show Survivor. But those who know me pretty well, know I am not one with dirt. My friends used to say, "Dusty doesn't do dirt" but then God gave me a boy and screwed up my princess theory. So, now I do dirt, sorta. But I don't think I could be on the show Survivor. I admire people that are nature driven. I follow these wonderful blogs where they take these beautiful picture of nature hikes, snow cap mountains and trees that reach to the moon. I go outside walk around my house and declare that a hike, pick up the garden hose and imagine a giant water fall. So, I know that me on a remote island with 15 other people wouldn't be something that's on my bucket list. 

First, my people map labels me a Free Spirit/Leader. Which means while we should be building shelter, we should have a wine spritzer while we do it. I mean if your going to chop bamboo all day, you should be rewarded. Second, I can handle the air drying of the hair if people can stand looking at me and my twin, Buckwheat, but there is no where to plug in my makeup mirror. I am not saying I need to put on all the war paint necessary, but geez a little mascara and lipgloss might get you somewhere with some of these men who are in total heat 30 days without yum yum. 

Then there is the fact of the challenges. Me, run, gather puzzle pieces, run some more, climb a rope, ding a bell, turn a cartwheel and try to knock out ceramic squares with a pebble? Uh, no. I can barely see with my glasses or contacts on and you want me to hit a 2 x 2 square, so my whole tribe can share a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? Sorry, but I did all the work, get your own PB & J, I ain't putting my lips on someone else's stinky coconut cup or sandwich just so I won't die from starvation. Oh, and speaking of, I wouldn't survive with all that rice they eat. 

But there is also the bugs, snakes and rats. Now, why in the sam thunder hell would you sign up to be eaten alive my monster mosquitoes, risk getting ate by a large anaconda and sleep with rats crawling around camp. I will take a zero. Or wear the same pair of underwear for 30 days. You can wash them in the ocean all you want, but the salt water eventually is going to exfoliate the wassa and then your in a mess. And if you can only take one luxary item, why would it not be feminine products? Teeth coating of gross I can take, but somewhere your going to have a cycle. It's not like you can look at them and say, sorry but I got PMS, cramps and need to lie on this hard ass bamboo bed all day to feel better, oh and by the way, you gotta a Midol? I mean you get a wax job before you go but by the end of thirty days your tribe mates are going to think they are sharing camp with a gorilla. I am all for sharing but this is just not one of them. 

Don't get me wrong, I will go camping and work out in my yard, but I am not going to volunteer to be stranded on an island, not even for a million dollars. It would take half a million to have your body regraphed from all the bug bites, your dentist to scrape your teeth at least 6 times to get the fuzz off, and you'll have to hire a bush hog to remove the hair that's grown on your body parts. 

Thank you Jeff Probst, your hot, but I will pass. Survivor me? NO!

Would you go on Survivor?

Dusty

Easter Beasts

So, we all are aware that Easter is Sunday. Yes, the Easter Bunny comes to our house and leaves a basket full of goodies on our door step. We color eggs the night before, gather as a family, eat until our eyeballs pop out and the kids hunt eggs. Not real eggs, the plastic ones with candy stuffed in them. You have heard me talk about how I love Easter candy, Robin Eggs, Reeses Peanut Butter and Cadbury eggs but there is one thing that freaks me out every Easter.

PEEPS! 

I cannot handle these marshmallow beasts. I am convinced they are possessed and evil. Here's my point.

Look at their faces. Pure evil. The one on the far left. He's pissed. He's wrapped up in a box with cellophane wrap, knowing he's going to be devoured by some snot nose kid on April 8th. I mean wouldn't you be ticked off knowing your are going to die a slow miserable death at the hands of a child and they won't serve any time or be punished what so ever for their crime?

Or these

Peep chicks! Look at them all lined up in a row just waiting to peck your eyes out. They are enraged that they are covered in a sugar coating dyed to celebrate the season when in fact you know they just want to be plain white, part of their nudest colony of marshmallow fluff where they don't argue back and forth who looks best pink, yellow or blue. 

There's nothing adorable about them. They aren't cute. They aren't delish. My friend Betsy loves them. My other friend Rick opens the package and lets them become stale before he eats them. Me, I avoid them in the grocery store, local Target and even the mention of them send me into a cold chill of frantic. The Easter Bunny puts a package in my son's basket, but that's only to ensure that one package of the population is destroyed.

I hate these things. They scare me. Go away! I am protesting Peeps. 

Happy Monday everyone, just say no to a Peep!

Dusty

Friday Funnies

So it's Friday and I want you to remember me for the weekend. I downloaded Cam Wow to my iPhone. I am not sure if Droid users have it or not but if you do, I highly suggest, if you want to pee your pants laughing, do so. This app reminds me of my friend Heather who every time a group of girls would get together, she would make us do funny face pictures. So this is for you, Heather 

I love the one front tooth in this pic

my chin looks like a butt

I swear this looks like that fish off Sponge Bob

dig the eyebrow

Ian's tongue

this picture sent me to the inhaler

it's the hair I think

I mean seriously, you gotta laugh at yourself every once in a while. I hope you all have a WOW weekend!

Dusty

Two Cents Thursdays

Is this week over? Nope not yet, but here's my two cents for this week and hope your week has been faboo.

First, to all the sales people that are visiting my house to give me an inspection for the hail damage! LEAVE ME ALONE! We have it all taken care of thank you very much! I swear we have had 20 people come to our door. I don't like people knocking on my door at 9 am on a Saturday.

So, a couple of weeks ago, my friend Lorraine noticed I had worn my turtleneck backwards. Now for my sweet Makaila, she can rock it, me I had no clue and must have looked like the biggest dork. I wondered why I kept thinking something was off, but couldn't put my finger on it. Then to top that one, if you read my blog this week, I made a lovely trip to hell, I mean Orlando. Well, when I got to the hotel, I noticed that my fly was down. Which means I didn't zip it before I left the house. Now you can say dumbass.

I finally recieved my workout DVD "Kickboxing for Dummies". Surely to god I can't screw that up, but I managed to work through the warm up and routine #1. I then proceeded to make a frozen pizza and eat all the pepperoni's off the top. No carbs right?

In my quest for a bikini bod and my obsession with Hunter Boots in which I have read 5,000 reviews that said, "if you have big calves you may not want to buy these". So, guess, what this chick did? Researched how to reduce the size of my calves or what exercises not to do. Totally stupid! I also don't know or have no clue if I have big calves. All I know is there's not much muscle there and when I measured them they were 14" around. I should be good to go if not, I will revert to said kickboxing video because workout #2 is all about long lean legs. 

Speaking of my Hunter Boots, I got a retweet from the company on Twitter, but they sure didn't offer me a free pair. Insert sad face. 

And finally, close your eyes Shay here it comes. I have been on this kick about being 40 and seeing how I am half way through my life, I want to keep myself looking at least 38. So, I have been looking at new ways to keep my skin looking delish. Well, I looked into getting a Clarisonic and then about croaked when I saw the price. So, again I read reviews and decided to buy the Olay Regenerist Brush Cleansing system. The product comes with the electric brush and a sample tube of exfoliating cleanser. I can tell you honestly, its wonderful. My skin looks so different, my pores are starting to shrink and the tone of my skin has improved. It's amazing. Yes, I would probably have the high priced doohickey if I could afford it but for $30 bucks, it's a steal and worth it. I recommend this 100 percent. I alternated days for exfoliating between my normal cleanser and add toner as recommended by a friend afterwards. Get ya one today..

Well, that's it! It's over. Another Thursday come and gone depending on when you read this. Have a great day!

Dusty

Thy Obsessed with Hunter Boots

If you follow my blog, of course you do, and Twitter, Facebook or anything else that I can scream from the roof tops, you know I am obsessed with Hunter Boots. Like I spend hours looking at photos of possible outfits, read reviews and stalk their website. I follow them on every social media site and signed up for a website that offers them on sale at certain times of the year. I love them. I initially thought I wanted the short ones in Navy, but soon changed my mind. I am totally convinced that the Original Hunter Boot is the one for me and I have chosen black, no gloss. But at $125 smacks, mama gotta save up! So until then, I will just keep obsessively looking at them from a far unless the company wants to be so kind as to send me a pair or someone can find me a pair at a discount. Until then, I leave you with these images. 

Source: Uploaded by user via Girls Love on Pinterest

This image sent me right over the edge. I love this whole outfit!

Source: juliewearswellingtons.wordpress.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

If only my legs looked like that, but with shorts, they are hot to trot!

Source: weheartit.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

these coral boots are perfect for summer

Source: flickriver.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

winter street style

Source: weheartit.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

the perfect green rain boot

Source: daisychainae.blogspot.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

red is a popular color

and finally

Source: s2.hubimg.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

Jennifer Aniston wears them, so why shouldn't I?

I am in love! Love Love Love! The only thing I am not sure about is sizing. I read tons of reviews and some say get a size up or down. So, if you have the 411 on this, give me down low. Do you have a pair of Hunters? Tell me all about them!

Happy Wednesday,

Dusty

I'm No Traveling Pants

Last week if you noticed I was absent for a few days. I had promised to do a few posts on the road, but it was so hectic, I didn't get a chance. I went to Orlando, Florida for a marketing workshop with the firm I work for. The workshop ended up being fruitful, but I turned into a hot mess.

I like Florida don't get me wrong, but not a whirwind 48 hour trip. My flight was at 6 am. Really? Southwest you can't get me in sooner? So that meant I had to rise and shine at 3 am. I packed the night before, pretty much only what I was going to use which is unheard of for me. When I travel I take the kitchen sink. I think that comes with being a mom and a southern girl. You just never know. I took three outfits, shoes and travel size essentials. I could have carried on my bag, but I didn't because I was hauling around a laptop, my pretty purse and tote with marketing materials. 

Here's how the nightmare went. I got up, got ready, kissed my boys goodbye and out the door by 4:15 am. Got to the airport and because they are doing construction missed the exit. I repeatedly drove around in a circle with numerous U-turns in the mix. I felt like I was on the movie European Vacation and the kids look up and the dad says, "Look kids, Big Ben, Parliament!" I figured out how to get into the terminal and then parked in Long Term parking. Well, long term means long term at Nashville Airport apparently. See I decided that I would try to look all hot snot. I wore some trouser jeans, a cute cotton peasant top and my sweater so I didn't get chilly. Oh, and these canvas high heel espadrilles. By the time I got to check in, I had two blisters on the tops of my feet at my big toe and the skin was rubbed off the heel of my foot. This girl wished she'd carried her bag on. I was a sweatball, my feet were bleeding and I was so tired. When I got on the flight, I asked the flight attendant for some band aids in which she gave me these strips of cloth that just stuck. But at that point anything would do.

I got to Orlando, one of the girls from the Dallas office picked me up, I went to the hotel, I checked in and CHANGED MY SHOES calling them not so nice words. We headed to the workshop, then to dinner that night. I came back to the room, tried to go to sleep, but my room was facing the interstate and at 3 am a large train went by and blew the whistle. I slept all of 3 hours. I was up, so I got ready, went downstairs ate breakfast and off again to the workshop. 

Then to Orlando airport. Holy crap. The lines to check in were like Best Buy at Christmas, I had to walk all the way what seemed like forever in the C section, wait and then I was on my way home at 5 pm. Squeezed in between the man who drank three Gin and Tonics and Jebadiah who fell asleep and had the worst breath, I was almost at my whits end and my feet still hurt for the evil shoes. 

After landing in Nashville at 7 pm, I was in route home. I was so tired and jet lagged, I got on the interstate and seriously thought I was going the wrong way. Then my baby daddy called and said, "hey, we haven't ate dinner, can you stop somewhere?" I almost turned into the Hulk. But I remembered the food they served at the dinner and lunch and was glad to be back in Tennessee where fried food is the norm. I mean, sorry folks, but I don't eat chicken with green leaves between a bed of tomatoes or Orzo pasta whatever the hell that is. I did eat some bread and butter while I was there. I think it sustained my life span until I got home. Not only did the food suck, but I didn't poop for two days. I was bloated up like the Goodyear blimp. 

I walked in the door, ate my giant Wendy's hamburger, washed my face, kissed everyone, didn't unpack a thing, prayed to the poop God that he would be kind to me in the morning and went to bed. Oh, and I froze to death the whole time I was there. Who freezes in Florida? I tell ya, I felt like I was going to be admitted to the nut house when I got back. I am no traveling pants my friends, matter of fact I am not traveling for a long while. The only thing great about this was my prayers were answered the next morning, I had two days off for a long weekend and I ate everything in sight. All hail fried chicken and sweat pants folks! 

Happy Tuesday,

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

Hen Party

Well, lovies, I have gone to Orlando for a Hen Party. The company that I work for holds a marketing workshop every year and I am off to corporate society. I am taking my computer, and should have a post Wednesday and totally back on Thursday. Until then, don't forget me and if you want, take a gander at some of my other reads if your new to this here crazy town blog. Or even better, some of my wondermous followers can tell you what their favorite post was in the comments, so you can take a look. 

You can also follow my adventures at the following. Just click the link below and it will take you to new level of fantastic. Well not really, but as friends, we should share right?

Twitter

Facebook

Pinterest

Bloglovin'

And if that isn't enough, I leave you with a photo, so you really don't forget me! The kid took a few silly pics of me this weekend. I call them my Farrah Fawcett series. I will show the others on Friday. I hope to catch up on my bloggy reads and comments in the hotel. 

Hugs,

Dusty

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

Two Cents Thursdays

Thursday! Thursday! Thursday! I am thinking if I say it enough time will pass and it will be Friday. Okay, one more day won't kill me I guess. Here is my two cents for this week. Actually a rather calm week but still I have a few things to speak about.

- You read me rant and rave about naked pregnant chicks all week, now I see a picture of Carrie Underwood and her new album cover. I want to say that I demand to see her legs in person. I want to make sure that there is not one ounce of photo editing anywhere in that picture and that her legs really look like that. If so, she just insulted every female in the universe who don't have the time to pay someone to make her legs look like perfect specimens.  I personally love her music, but I just don't think its fair to have both. Choose one or the other, so I know your human.

- Why my sister and my bloggy friend Jenn can get a banging hot new short hair cut that requires nothing but them moving their heads back and forth for sexy effect and if I got the same hair cut,  I would look like a pumpkin head.

- Why the person that I lay my head down to every night seems to think the that his dirty laundry resides on the floor. It's not hard. Right out side our bedroom, honey, is a closet that houses a hamper. You know, white with wheels, and it holds an abundance of clothing which alerts me to do the laundry. Do I need to Map Quest it for you?

- I kid you not I received an email from a marketing representative saying thank you for mentioning their product Preparation H in one of my blogs. Also,mentioned that they would be happy to send me any other material in the future. I wanted to respond and so no dude, THANK YOU! Wouldn't you hate to be the person that asks where they work? Yes, I provide the marketing for an product that brings special relief to those with anal seepage problems.

- I wanted to make a link for my Insta.gram but forgot my address and password. I am surely hoping to remember it sometime soon.

- My son thinks that Suri on my iPhone is a real person. He asked her where our bathroom was in our house. She responded with, "there are no public toilets located in your area."

- And finally, I had an ah ha moment. I believe that the reason men open the door for you to walk in and out of a building or motion for you to get off the elevator first is because they want to look at your ass. 

Happy Thursday friends. What's your two cents this week? Are you pondering anything good?

Big ole Thursday lovin',

Dusty

Honor Thy Mother

Thy mother took thy daughter shopping. On a budget of $130 smacks these are the wondermous things I picked out. I can't say purchased, so lets say, I put up on the counter. Plus, I am pretty sure she felt sorry for me. I think she saw my drawings from last week and decided to get me a few non frump girl items. 

my loot

two adorable peasant tops

pair of sunglasses in which I am sure I look like an alien 

and a hat

I am not complete without a hat

these little beauties are cotton and comfy for summer sweat stinking days

a pair of black capris

and

the perfect trouser jeans

I have been yearning for a pair of trouser jeans but feel like they make me look

like a chunk a lunk

these fit just right for fluffy (or the mirror lied)

All this at JCP. Everyone always says, oh, JCP is old people clothes. No they don't, does this look like blue hair material? No. And why would I complain? It was free. Thanks Mom you rock!

Been shopping lately? 

Hugs,

Dusty

linked up the pleated poppy

Fair Leather Friend

So I think its in the water. Every where you look it’s a woman and a baby bump. So glad we are all cyber buddies. They say sometimes women that hang around each other tend to take on the same cycles, so I have decided to read everyone’s blogs at different times during the day to make sure that I can’t even get knocked up through technology. Any hoot, last week, I mentioned that I was a little ticked when I read about Jessica Simpson and her dumb comment about she would die if  her kid chose Nike’s over Christian Louboutin’s. I still stand behind what I said, which was basically, what a ding bat. I would also like to request that naked celebrities everywhere, stop posing nude on the covers of these magazines. I mean wouldn’t you hate to be the person that waxed her wassa for that picture? I couldn’t even see my wassa when I was pregnant. I basically hiked my leg like a dog and prayed that I hit the spot with toilet paper when I wiped after going to the bathroom. I think it might have gotten to the point I just threw it at the area and hope it landed on the bulls eye. The day she told me I was going to have my son. I thought, oh, I gotta go home and groom myself. I got in the shower, tried three ways from Sunday and decided that Moma Big Bush here would just let the hospital do it. I mean, hell they charge your insurance for everything else, a little wassa trim won’t hurt ‘em.  

So, along with my same gripe, I was doing some lifestyle research yesterday (my new term for Pinteresting, fits don’t you think) and came across a picture of Kourtney Kardashian who apparently forgot her birth control, wearing leather pants. Let me say this again, leather pants. Nobody said, that you had to look like the poster child for pregnant, but here’s the pickle. When you sign up for I am pregnant 101, you pretty much sign all the rights to I cannot fit my butt into leather, skinny or any other pants other than something with a stretch waste band. And if you wear tights make sure you wear a top that covers just enough of Texas down below,  so we don’t see that your 7 months pregnant tight pants with the “V”. “V” is not for victory at 7 months pregnant.  You agree that not all ordinary clothing works.

Sometimes ordinary clothes don’t work even on un-pregnant people. Back in the day when I was hot snot, I had me some leather pants. The girls and I would go honky tonkin’ and I could push my tush with the best of them. I also, could drink a few beers (like six)  back then. Now I drink more than two and I am what they call asphalt licker. We went out one Saturday night. It was cold. I decided I would wear my black leather pants. I mean what girl isn’t cool in a cowboy bar in leather? We danced and drank, did the normal routine, ate at Waffle House afterwards, I went home and apparently passed out…in my clothing...face down. My mother who at the time, decides to call on Sunday and being the persistent woman that she is, tends to repeat her trend if you don’t answer the phone the first time. I woke up and realized that I could barely move. It didn’t enter into my sloshed up brain that you kind of swell after a night of drinking buckets of yeast and eating an omelet the size of a boulder. I roll over with my legs stuck straight out and there I was, stuck inside these pants like a burrito, walking around stiff legged, I could barely bend my knees to get my shoes off. I couldn’t call for help, I lived by myself and the dog didn’t care, she had to pee. I ended up having to cut them off my body. I am pretty sure it was like when you open a can of cinnamon rolls, the pressure is released from the can and the dough fluffs out of the sides of the aluminum. I gave those pants a proper burial in the trash, rubbed lotion on my legs that were chafed and never looked at another pair of leather pants again.

So my fixation on why a pregnant person feels the need to wear these is beyond me because you swell when you’re pregnant. You get up in the morning and your thighs look normal and by the end of the day they have turned into full blown roaster, set on 350, listen for the ding and you’re done. All I can say is to all the pregnant ladies, please back away from the leather. The only think leather is good for couches, diaper bags and shoes.

Happy Tuesday,

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