The Skinny Big Side of Things

Good weekend? I can give mine the mediocre status. I wanted to share some thoughts with you and this is strictly my opinion and my brain cells wasted, but feel free to let me know how you feel at the end of this. Last week while blog hopping, I came across a blog that I do not normally read and to be truthful I can't remember the name of it, but it was a fashion blog and on that day she talked about finally finding a dress she had been searching for in a size 2. I immediately stopped reading, skimmed to the bottom and almost comment but clicked out. Now here's where my thoughts come in. Does it detour you that someone identifies their size on a blog?

Here's my truth. I didn't find it offensive but I found it detouring. I by health standards am not overweight. By my standards I feel like I am. I have been thin all my life, but I also had a baby at 34. The last 10 pounds have been the hardest and I fluctuate  But at my skinniest I never identified my size to people, well unless Duh was buying a hot pair of jeans and then I made sure I told him, but even then depending on the brand and what type they were it's always hit or miss because of my shape. (insert semi large fluffy). I remember after having my son and joining Weight Watchers. I went to my first meeting and these women looked at me like I was crazy. After about 3 meetings, I stopped going. What they didn't realize is in MY head, I have the same struggle as a plus size person, not by society standards by mine. 

I can say that my size ranges anywhere from this to this depending on an item. But I remember one time someone saying that Oprah was a size 8. I thought, oh yeah sure and I am the tooth fairy. But in European countries sizes are different and then they resonate to the US and if you can afford to buy $300 jeans to say your a size 4 when your really a size 8 then go for it. The problem I have is that society puts the pressure on a woman to be labeled with a number. I feel that pressure, not by numbers but by weight. I wouldn't care if I weighed what I did if I could get rid of the wiggle jiggle, but like someone who is larger I struggle, maybe not quiet the same, but in my head I promise I think the same things..I feel like I have thunder thighs, my butt is a ham-hock, I have the extra waving arm skin..etc...So seeing someone identify they looked high and low for a size 2 dress, maybe out of insecurity, maybe out of jealousy, maybe just being a bitch, but I probably won't read her blog again. I know not fair right? I look at fashion blogs with different size people every day, but they don't label that new jacked from JCrew with a website to click at the bottom that says click here for size 4.

I know its just life. I know that if I got off my ass I would be healthier and lose the busted can of biscuits look in my mid section, but I also have a life, its my own demon. But why can't we just say, "I was looking for this dress for so long and finally found it." High five yourself.

So what do you think? Would it detour you even if your skinny or plus size, to see someone identify their size on their blog?

Happy Monday,

Dusty

I Took A Dump

It's Friday! It is gone and forgotten, but I needed to take a dump so here's the story for this week.

Sometimes we make choices to see the beauty

whether it's crazy thoughts wrestling in our heads

the temptations of the beast

or the battle of our inner selves

the answer is simple

This is me. It's just life.

Happy Friday,

Dusty

Boot Scoot

Wednesday is here and Tater Queen's fashion update. Of course it's October and the beginning of fall here and in some places out West its snowing and starting to get colder. I don't think any part of the US can make up its mind on what season it is. The leaves have just began to turn here and now they are falling off the trees. The rain has been insane. So, I thought today would be a good day to introduce some snow slash rain boots since we are all up to our eyeballs in "who knows what the weather will bring!"

Ever been to LL Bean or ordered on line? These beauts are on my list of wants. 

Perfect for rain, sleet and snow. I also see these with some rolled up boyfriend jeans
and some scrunchy socks

Source: llbean.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

These are from Target and affordable

Source: target.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

Who knew Crocs could be so cute and I hear these puppies are warm

Source: crocs.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

And finally... I couldn't let a boot post go without my FAVS!!!!!

Hunters, Black Original, No gloss, Thank you very much

Source: usa.hunter-boot.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

I shall sleep with these if I ever own a pair!

So there you have it, the Queens picks for boots this season of rain or snow. Have you got a favorite? 

Happy Wednesday,

Dusty

I Give Good Steve Jobs

I am just going to throw out some random crap today. Yesterday, as I was talking to a great friend, I realized that I should be a psychiatrist. Not because I give great advice, because I am probably psycho. We were talking about chasing dreams and this was my advice to her...."it's like when your kid made the ugly ashtray or the god awful flower pot when they were little and because they made it by hand, you automatically love it. People love hand made crap. They will fight over it because we all want what other's can't have and its pretty. I would kill a bitch for some Hunter boots. I think your going to do great and it's not their dream it's your dream. Everyone has to start somewhere. If you love and believe in something then it will succeed. Who knew Steve Jobs would invent a phone with a talking slut named Siri."

Wise advise don't you think? Of course an email before that to someone else I confessed that I ate a whole bag of Starbursts once and pooped rainbow colors for a week. My advice on that is don't eat a whole bag of Starburts unless your on psychedelic drugs and then it might be fun.

When I first started blogging I thought I would be a fashion blogger. Then after extensive research, about a day or four hours, whatever, work with me, I decided that even though fashion is a passion, looking fantab for you people every day meant I couldn't look ugly. And I honestly like those days I look ugly. I am a southern girl, but the closer my hair to God every single day isn't important and I personally think that having rooster hair just so Jesus will let me in the pearly gates isn't going to work. After all the 80's are back but the man wears a toga. 

My point and usually I don't have one is if you have a dream follow it. Someone invented the toilet thank god. It's cold here right now and my butt setting on a cedar plank hole in a 2' x 2' building isn't living if you ask me. Then came toilet paper, so you don't have to wipe your butt with bark. A man somewhere decided to cut a hole in the wood box to have ventilation and light and then guess what? A wise ass decided that it would be more convenient to build this room in a house and wallah there you have it, the invention of the Shit Hole. 

So see, let your creative juices flow. Be a risk taker. Be proud that you're doing something that has meaning to you and who cares what others think. Follow your heart. Don't let your dreams go to pot, be a Steve Jobs and Siri. And by the way, can Apple please make Siri understand redneck. I ask her questions all the time and her response, "I don't understand what your saying." Can you imagine talking in Pig Latin to her?

Happy Tuesday,

Dusty

  

Blabber

The weekend is over? Really? Who said? Let me at 'em...Although I am not surprised  Monday just loves to come in there and ruin it for the good of Saturday and Sunday. Since sometimes when I am delusional, I find myself sort of interesting, I thought I would share some of the things I am digging and not digging right now. My weekend was relaxing. Family time, college football, blog reading (shame on me for having 523 unread posts on Blog lovin) and thank goodness I also read these master pieces in my blog list and favorites on my phone. But it was good to catch up on the latest and greatest of the world. But enough of that lets talk about me, well, the crap I am digging and not digging right now.

Digging

1. Soup - it's starting to cool off here in Redneckville and you know us southern girls. We can throw dirt and rocks together in a batch of stewed tomatoes add some veggies and call it soup. My family isn't fond of the rocks or dirt unless it's on their clothes or under their fingernails, so I try to get my soup on any other time. I have had Loaded Potato Soup twice this weekend. I can see that hot liquidy things will be a theme in our house this winter.

2. While on the subject of food, I discovered Artisan bread in the bakery specifically Telera sandwich rolls. I sliced, added deli ham and some pepper jack cheese, baked in the oven until the cheese melted and lord, thank god my mama was no where around cause I would have slapped her it was so good. Yummy goodness with a little spicy mustard. Soup and sandwich is what we had for dinner on Sunday.

3. Instagram and Twitter - I love them both. I would rather follow on Twitter and take a glimpse at everyone's life on Insta rather than Facebook. I dig it because it's spontaneous  And sometimes makes no sense and you wonder what the hell? But its fun right at that moment and I love it.

Not Digging

1. Buying a new lip gloss only to get it home and know it's not the same color it looks in the tube. Girls nothing pisses this Tater Queen off than a disappointment in a lip gloss. I have a little of a fetish with it. Always searching for the perfect peachy pink..Suggestions? Leave in the comment box. So when I got home to see that the Smooth Coral was Sheer pink, well, it wasn't a good 5 minutes in the Alley household. It's in the giveaway pile.

2. People who clip or file their nails in public. The other day a lady at work was clipping her nails. I almost vomited.  Then I was in a restaurant this weekend and a lady was filing her nails. I almost vomited. It's disgusting not to mention unsanitary in public. Gross!

3. My dreams. I have had multiple reoccurring dreams and I don't know what they mean. One is all my teeth falling out, the other is about people who used to be significant in my life that are no longer and haven't been there in many many years. Some said my teeth falling out is stress and anxiety. I can dig that. Some say I have unresolved expressions towards these people I am dreaming about. Frig if I know. All I do know is I would like to sleep and if do have a dream, please make it with me boinkchicawowwowing with the members of Bon Jovi. Well, specifically one, but I won't mention his name.. Richie Sambora. 

So, there it is. Dig it. I think I dug it right into the ground, down to the worms. So what are you digging and not digging? What's the perfect peachy pink lip gloss? What do you're dreams mean?  Etc..

Happy Monday,

Dusty

Tag Your It!

My first ever give away was a pretty good success. I am grateful, thankful and all kinds of full of something that you come over and support me and my whackadoodle antics. So without keeping you on the edge of your seat..

Because we do crap Old School here, my assistant, the Great Kid drew from all the entries

And then I made a stupid sign 

Wait for it

Congrats to Stacia from Mr. Spaghetti face and GLFP. Send me an email with your address so I can get the Target gift card to you so can go buy stuffs! Everyone be nice and congratulate her.

I hope everyone has a great weekend. Thanks to all the new followers and the regulars who set on the bar stool night after night and get intoxicated on crazy. I love ya! Oh, I see a country song in the making.

XO, 

Dusty

Hot Tamale..My Mom

Today's Hot Tamale is my Ma! You know say it like they do up North. I have authority on this because I reside with a Yankee. Today is her birthday. I won't say how old she is because she reads this master piece...62...and I could (not or possibly) get in trouble. Oh, who cares she lives a county away and would have to drive like a bat out of hell to get here and listen, unless she's going to pay her JC Penny's bill, she aint o' comin' during the week. This weekend I will decide to lock the doors and pretend no one's home.

And if saying her age didn't do it, this should solidify my place below my brother and sister in the will. If you don't hear from me on Monday, I am in an underground hide out with an assumed name. 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOMA, I LOVE YOU! Thank you for squeezing me out of your loins,

Dusty

It's a Cover Up

Tater Queen here, and lets get this day on and over with because it means Friday is close. I am always cold. Even in the summer, I am in long sleeves especially in the evening or inside. I run a heater under my desk all year long because I work with men beasts and they are always hot. 

This Fall I am loving the over sized sweaters. Something you can throw a tshirt on and some jeans, boots and off I go.. to a somewhere warm hopefully. Here are just a few that I am cozying up too.

My FAV!!

Source: shopplanetblue.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

Love how she added a broach as a clasp

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

                                       Campfire and Hot Cocoa worthy

Source: instagram.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

So with these, I could stay toasty until spring or at least Tater Queen fashionable, right? 

Do you love the oversize sweaters? Do you wear them just in the fall or all winter.

Happy Wednesday,

Dusty

You Can't Fix Stupid

Do you feel that? Monday gone, see ya, you suck! So reading through my daily smut, I see yet another celeb decided to tongue wrestle with a nobody. The country crooner Jason Aldean thought it would be so cool to get chocolate wasted with sprinkles and forget he had a wife and children at home and make out with some girl who has the good year blimp on her chest. Seriously, people dot com her. You want her on your ship if it sinks. 

This is what my dealio is. And I use naughty words so please don't take offence, but why do these famous people insist on being ate up with the dumbass? In a world of sex tapes, camera phones and audio devices of the secret agent kind, where do they think that someone, somewhere isn't going to catch them turning into a Rico Suave or the Long Island Lolita? This is why crazy bitches pull guns or cut off the peter cotton tails.

But here is my kicker. They always profess their undying sorrow. Apologize to their families and their fans and eventually we forget about it because they either make a movie everyone wants to see or writes a country song that relates to our dying dogs and we instantly fall right back in love. I wanna say hey pecker head, so you love your wife and children but you loved Bud Light more and your lips just turned into a magnetic force toward some chick just long enough for someone to take your picture. Oh, that's right Kristen Stewart just got out of her mess, so maybe there is hope for you. Yes, I agree that enough alcohol and the guy with cheap cologne and two teeth looks good, but shit do him quick because when you wake up in the morning your gonna see that your whole body could be ate up with a bad case of gingivitis.   

Listen I am no saint, but I have never in my years of partying ever had a one night stand. I am not saying anyone is bad for doing so, but I guess I just didn't see the purpose of hurting someone over three minutes of yum yum and a puke fest until I passed out.

When will celebs learn that if you do a sex tape it will eventually leak out. If you go into a bar and decide to rub your hands on a hot chick like waxing a Corvette, someone is going to take a picture of it. If you turn into a gold fish lips begging for food when your master comes home and jet propel your tongue down someone's throat, your gonna get caught. 

I wanna say don't do it, but then I wouldn't get to write a funny post about fixing stupid. Oh, wait you can't fix stupid. 

Happy Tuesday,

Dusty

Hit Me Baby No More Times

This weekend flew by and was jammed packed. The kid has his last baseball game of the season and I survived not being kicked out of the ball park. My mom brought me these cassette tapes on Saturday, so yesterday we decided to watch them and it was of my son when he was about 3 months old. It brought back so many memories. There were tears while nobody was looking of course. One of my step dad who passed away in January holding him in the air so proud and of his baptism in the Catholic church while we all were sweating like pigs. Gawd, it was so hot that day. 

There are so many bloggers I follow that are pregnant and as my kid is seven, they grow up so fast. Look out followers, this could be a one and only Mom blog post. I know your not used to that. And although I sometimes wish I could go back and kiss that baby face a thousand more times, I also don't miss all the work. At this age, I can sleep at least until 7:30 when he then comes in to tell me he's hungry or needs to pee. All the while staring right into my face about 2 inches away. I don't miss the dirty diapers although the poop now is more on display for royal purposes. At two years old, I had my own personal courtesy flusher because he loved the toilet, but now it's "mom, come look at this thing, its made a complete circle and looks like a snake." 

I especially don't miss the late night feedings. I chose not to breast feed. It was a weigh your options really. The kid on the boob or the husband. I chose the husband and now after 14 years it's mostly just choosing to put on a bra every day for them that's a treat. I remember when my milk came in and for the first time I had porno tits. Perfectly round softball tibbies. I cried. I wished for boobs all my life and someone told me if I didn't breast feed then they would stay like that. Effing liars! They shrank and droop. But there was something about the boob that my son always loved. I swear if you had them and he was crying like a wild wolf, lay him on a set of kahunas and the kid was out for the count. Big boobs to a baby are like a sleep number bed to an adult. Seriously, if you had medium boobs and moved around it could have been the quarter in the heart bed at a sleazy motel, but if you had double D's? Total make-out session on a water bed at sixteen. I prefer to think that he just loved me anyway and loved my singing. 

Babies are the greatest gifts from God, I truly believe that, but God didn't tell you about the maintenance kits that come along with it. There isn't a manual. And as they get older I am still looking for the manual. Cars come with manuals. Toys come with manuals. Kids come with "good luck sucker, don't screw it up, not returnable." When they are babies all you want them to do is say moma and at seven all you want them to do is stop talking for five minutes. There are days I want to change my name to something unpronounceable.

But I will say this, if I never do anything else in my life, I am perfectly fine with that. He's my best friend and at sixteen probably won't think so, but I could not love one thing more.  And yes, he's growing up so fast, but I cannot wait to see what he's going to become although if he doesn't get the mouth of the south in check he may be talking like one of the guys from Swamp People. So, now that my chest is nothing more that a piece of plywood to him, I am his source of food only through the grocery store and rattles have turned into baseball bats, my heart is what he will always have.

Congrats to all the new mom's and soon to be mommies. I hope your sleep number beds are on level 75 and throw in some memory foam. You're going to need it.

Happy Monday,

Dusty    

I Took A Dump

Thank you baby Jesus it's FRIDAY! Not only has this been the week from Saskatchewan (I only said that because it would sound bad to cuss in the same line as thanking the great one for this day), but it is the best day of the week if you ask me. I decided that since I was so full of shit (not in the same sentence now) this week, I would take a dump. So here's my plop, plop, fizz, fizz.

Sometimes we need a little spice in our life

 whether is laying with a loved one

listening to good music

wrapped in a fuzzy blanket

or daydreaming

Happiness is where your heart is...

Have a great weekend, cozy up to the ones you love,

Dusty

Hot Tamales

It's been a while since we did a Hot Tamale feature and I would love it if anyone wants to feature their blogs during the Hot Tamale series to give me a hoot and hollar. Showcasing blogs is important to me because lets face it, we all get to where we are going with a little help and big mouths.

So I wanted to feature a few people that have said "yes, to my blog." All of my lovies at the right are brilliant smart and wonderful. Please take the time to say Sup! Oh, and if you want to advertise on my blog, just click the advertise button at the top and do a happy dance. We are going to have a blast.

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To say I love this chick is an understatement. Shanna and I have become so close. She's funny, fashionable and lives in Texas. Now who doesn't love a girl from Texas? She can shop like a professional and has two of the cutest little girls which by the way are just as funny as she is. Thank you Shanna for being a great friend and beautiful soul.

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Sara is a southern bell from Georgia. She's also a creative soul. She makes the wonderful bags, you can go to her Etsy and purchase away. She has an infectious smile and a personality to fit and you are going to love her. I do and I am so glad we are friends.

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Lindsay has become one of my best bloggy friends. There's not a day that goes by that I don't talk to her either by text or email. She makes me laugh and we talk about some of the funniest stuff. Along with her adorable husband and cute little fur babies, she's a little crafting beast. I love her quick wit and I also love that I can say anything to her and she doesn't judge my craziness. You're gonna love this girl and I will share her because she's just that damn good. I love love love you Linds!

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OMG! Amanda makes me laugh. She and I have some of the funniest email exchanges. Last week she told me that Hedgehogs masturbate and I swear I blew snot bubbles. I laughed so hard. It was just what I needed because I had a sucky day. She also loves books and you have to read her engagement story. To Die for! Go see her. And thank you Amanda for you  our giggles. I love ya!

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Nikki is a girl after my own heart. We live about three hours away from each other and before its all said and done we are gonna have a blate. She's going to the chapel and gettin' married next year and I am so excited for her. Her blog has a little of this and that so your going to dig her. Go over and check her out. Love you Nikki.. You and me and the electric slide baby!

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You must go visit Tiffany. She's a total riot. And you see that little sweet beast in the picture? Well, if you don't go visit her I am sure she will eat you alive. I love Tiff. She has a wicked fun sense of humor. She's a California girl with fun adventures. And if you follow her blog you must follow her Twitter. She cracks me up. I love Tiff. I have no choice, her cat JMEOWW will claw my eyes out if I didn't. Go see her!

So there you have it. Some of my lovely peeps. Next month you will get to see more beautiful features. New blogs are the shitzl. Everyone has something to offer. And you know we all want a little spice in our life!

Advertise if you want, its never a dull moment over here in the land of crazy.

XO,

Dusty

Fetish of Sorts

I have a little bit of a rock & roll side to me although you probably wouldn't have never guessed it right? I love pretty classical pieces like a flowy sundress or jeans and tshirts, but I also have a fetish. I love skulls and crossbones especially if the skull has a little bow on its head. I once wanted a tattoo like Rhianna's on her ankle (google it). So, for this weeks Tater Queens Fashion Inspirations I give you something to bring out your inner rebel. It's okay to be a little bit on the edge and still feel classic.

Source: us.topshop.com via

 

Source: johnnywas.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

Source: ae.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

I think this would suit me just fine. Of course, I cannot afford those pants. I would have to work a street corner for a month, but they are pretty Hot Snot but I would have to find a knock off and that sweater should just appear in my closet.  So what do ya think? Do you believe me now, that this Tater Queen is a rebel? You could see me in this right? Agree or I am gonna have to take you out back.

Tell me, do you have a style that nobody would think was you?

Rock on, loves,

Dusty

Don't forget my giveaway, go here to enter

Oh and here's proof of my fetish. I used to make these bags and sell them..

I Give Myself Away

Its time for I have promised a giveaway! Something I have been meaning to do last month to celebrate the birth of this blog and well, I didn't get around to it. There is only one person on this earth that knows why. 

So, before you bust a gut with excitement I will be giving myself away. That's right just like a hooker on dollar day, I am giving you all of me. You will be stuck for the rest of your lives reading my mundane BS and supporting me when or if I ever get another hemmy. I mean its like winning the loot on the Price Is Right. 

In the meantime, while you ponder the fact that I will be stuck in your head forever, I will give you a chance to make the transition a little easier.

$25 smackaroos 

That's right! A $25 dollar Target gift card. Do you know what you could buy with that? I can stretch $25 dollars into well, $25 dollars. You could buy aspirin for when I make you laugh so hard your head hurts, or depends after you peed your pants. Either way, it's a win win.

Be a follower of this blog. That's right below where it says Sweethearts join, leave me  a comment, like "I love you Dusty" or "I worship the ground you walk on" even better, "you are a rock star" and then be a Twit and Tweet the giveaway to the world. Done! Simple! Winner to be chosen October 1st then you can go spend your loot on new mittens and hats for winter.

Good freaking luck, I promise not to spend it before then,

Dusty

Hell in a Handbasket

Hello, Loves, did everyone have a great weekend? I had friends in town and it was fantastic. It's always comforting to see friendly faces and you miss them when they go. But I wanted to do a follow up post. Last Thursday, I posted a video of a song that I listen to often and the message behind it was to hopefully encourage people that its okay if you don't feel perfect, we are all perfect in some way in someone's eyes. Now, I give you some of the reasoning why I feel like I am going to hell in a handbasket. 

As my 41st birthday is approaching fast, I started to think of all of the good in my life and the way I have lived, but nobody ever prepares you for how you will look. Now granted there are Hollywood starlets out there that still have the face of a 25 year old. I am sure that has to do with good genetics and a gas pump full of fillers and Botox. I mean in Tinsel Town, I am sure there is a drive-thru window somewhere where you can get a shot in the forehead "to go" with the green monster diet smoothie and In & Out burger, but here in redneck land, I have to rely on cheap wrinkle cream and Neutragena face wash.

Here are a few things I have notice going on with this 40 year old. First, after reading in a magazine about the best jeans for your shape, I realize that they don't make a "prune" shape. You got boy, pear or petite shape, but I think since everything seems to be NOT defying gravity, I am going with the dried up prune. My butt now only fills out the jeans but the jiggle is more prevalent and probably looks like two pigs in a blanket. 

Then when I flex my arms I seem to have muscles, yet there is no longer definition. Its just an arm. Plain Jane straight arm with a mud flap that is starting to show itself. So now when I wave goodbye, I am waving twice with once body part. Mad talent skill.

My once perky tits are starting to migrate under my arms. Which only can mean one thing, since they no longer look 25, they want to crawl into my pits and hide like a polar bear hibernates in the winter. Hmm, maybe that's what my bubbies are doing; they are going into lifetime of hibernation. Which is good, if I lie down flat, my son now has a sled for the three inches of snow we may or may not get this winter.

Let's not even mention the grey hairs and I am not talking about the one's on my head. The ones that grow out of your eyebrows are sold white, thick and they poke straight out. I love turning into a porcupine. I now have quills growing between my eyes. I am not even going to mention the ones that also produce themselves on the chuckie. Those die a fast death, one shave and gone. If anything can give away your mojo, it's the presence of gun metal on the party bus.

The list goes on and on. Crow's feet, my voice is starting to sound like a roid raged beef cake and the age spots collecting on my body could be a road map of death. I don't understand how it all happened so fast, but it did. Somewhere I have to look inside myself to say, "hey, you look pretty darn good for almost 41." Then I turn the lights on and it all happens again, tweezers, anti-aging serum, hair dye and host of crap that I have to do, just to maintain the I don't look like Grandmas Moses. Seriously, I am about four years away from mom jeans and those Luv my panties that are made of stretch cotton, if I don't get off the stick and so something about it. I can't change my age, but maybe if every day I hold my face pulled back like a platypus, draw on new eye brows, use contour to define my muscles and shave a heart on my drooping tootatoot, I will feel 25 again.

Happy Monday,

Dusty

  

You R Perfect

Everyday is a struggle for most to get up, feel good, look in a mirror and say you are Perfect. I myself will tell you that I am a self professed princess and I make no apologies for it. In no way do I think I am beautiful or resonate to the fact that I have it all. I look in the mirror and don't always like what I see and I struggle every day with the what ifs, why couldn't I have and yes I am's of this vain life. So today this is for all the people that have felt less than perfect, having a fat day, are the subject of ridicule, bullying and in their hearts feel less than the amount of love they truly believe they don't have. My message is clear and if I reach one person, then I have taught myself and my child only this....You are loved. I am loved. I love you! I know you might not watch it, but do and listen to the words. I go to this song often when I feel the weight on my shoulders.

PS..My hero Pink is coming to Nashville in March and my happy ass will BE THERE singing at the top of my lungs!

My heart if only today believes I am perfect,

Dusty

Black n White and Butt all over

Time for Tater Queens Fashion Inspirations. I know Queen for today. Call me crazy but I am for some odd reason wanting a pair of these pants. I don't know if I am channeling my inner pirate or being a little rock & roll but I love them. 

I mean with a one shoulder blouse, wouldn't this rock the casba? I know you think I am cray cray. 

Source: victoriassecret.com via Kelly on Pinterest

Source: stage.buyosphere.com via Girls Love on Pinterest

I guess I should look at it this way, vertical stripes are slimming and I am sure that these pants would make my J Lo butt look like a target, but sure would be fun for a night out with the girls and a little boogie down time. And yes I admit it, I would wear these just for the reaction. I am a rebel like that!

Tell, me would you wear something out of your comfort zone?

Peace, Love and Rock n Pants,

Dusty

Anger Management

Have you ever just wanted to punch someone right in the mouth for no apparent reason? I mean seriously walk up to them and say, Good morning, Kapow! Lately, I have been just a little edgy or maybe somewhat stressed but I have no reason to be a dicksnap. Well, I mean I have a few reasons but not enough that I can't say oh, to heck with it. But you know that saying "your getting on my last nerve" well that's the way I feel. Yesterday I went to a marketing meeting and lord if it isn't a small world I ran into someone I went to high school with. This person was younger than me which even made it worse because there wasn't a wrinkle on her face but I did want to chat and catch up yet this meeting was somewhat important because the Mayor of Nashville was speaking. I mean he doesn't mean shit to me but the more he blabbered on the more I just wanted to walk up and punch him right in the kazoo. Hello Mr. Mayor, my name is Beth (gotta give him a fake name) and your MTA bus plan sucks, Whap! Right in the kisser. Then walk back to my seat and bitch slap the  class mate for not having a wrinkle or her face. The slut.

Setting in the doctors office when she comes in the room and says, "so you're not feeling well?" No, you dumb  shit, I came in here to waste $25 bucks and to tell you your open toe shoes were ugly as hell. Isn't that some kind of health violation that we can be exposed to your bare feet?" Kapow! Right in those fushia pink lips and by the way your toe nail polish is ugly.

Duh comes over to me with my deodorant and says, "you're out of deodorant" and I am like,  "why do you know this? Because I have been using yours." Really? But you have your own deodorant. At that moment, I wanted to loosen his two front teeth to the point of dangling redneck teeth only to be fixed by the help of a good dentist. So, I guess you get to have the PH balanced kind of day and I get to smell like a hog. I secretly hoped he received a fungus.

Last week I got an ugly comment on my blog or for what I thought was an ugly comment. Normally, things like that do not bother me because if you put it out there then your subject to anything goes. But it kind of felt personal, so I vented about it to a few and I seriously thought I am pretty sure I could totally fight like a girl. Like punch this person until their lips looked like that chick from the First Wives Club. Big fat red lips with me giving them the one-two punch, ding ding I win the championship belt kind of gratification. 

I don't know why I am so edgy. I don't know why I want to just start fighting people like a wild octopus with arms flaying but maybe its my subconscious telling me I should exercise or relieve the stress. Maybe I should take up kick boxing or become an ultimate fighter.

Do you ever feel like this?

Have a great Tuesday (ha),

Dusty

Southern Thugs

Sometimes I feel like it would be so much easier to be a thug than a woman.Think about what I am saying to you women folk. Oh, and being a southern girl at that because we have this reputation of being very passive women. Well, some maybe but not me. I mean wouldn't it just be easier to walk out of the house with my pants hanging down past my butt with high top tennis shoes? Normal people see that and they say, "look at that chicks  pants you can see their underwear, where's their belt?" In the south, its "Oh my gawd, did you see that street person. Her pants are way too big, her underwear doesn't match her outfit and I am pretty sure her ass has enough dimples she can play nine holes of golf on it. Bless it, where is her mother?" 

Thugs don't care, you make fun of their one gold tooth and they put a cap in your ass or steal your purse. Southern women bob their heads, snap and wave their fingers and call three friends who in turn call four more people they don't know in another town to discuss who wore white after Labor Day. The effing nerve! Who wears white after Labor Day? Shoot. 

Thugs smoke crack and Marlboro reds. Southern women smoke windshield pokers like Capri's or Virginia Slim Light One Thousands. I mean they have to because anything closer to lighting near their hair and poof! The aqua net induced bouffant is up in flames. We never cared in the 80's and 90's. The taller the hair the closer to god. Now it's all about making sure while we drink with our pinkies out, our ciggies are long enough to last threw a 20 minute conversation and heaven forbid your kid fall in a pool or scrape their knee. The tragedy is wasting a good smoke on possible death or getting a bandaid.

Thugs talk in code. Yo, Bro, Sup! Southern women have to say hello in five syllables, give you a hug, look you up and down and call you honey. We ask how you are, but do we really care? Yes, we care. We gotta have some crap to gossip about. 

Thugs drink Colt 45 and eat Big Macs. Southern women drink Bud Light or wine and eat biscuits with chocolate gravy. This chocolate gravy is a recipe passed down generations, so even though you think it tastes like heated up mud, you make and insist your kid eat it because its a G-D family air loom. Can gravy recipes be air looms? Hum.

My point is this... women and thugs everywhere should join together. Thugs can teach us Southern Belles how to be in the fight club and we can teach them that if they brushed their teeth and used whitening agents then gold would not be necessary for their teeth and they can pawn that shit and buy more white high top sneakers. I mean what southern woman isn't good at finding a bargain? I mean Payless has BOGO. A pair of high tops and get my high heels for half off. Now that's the southern way. Bless our hearts.

Happy Monday,

Dusty

Butt of a Joke

SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! Its official. Of all the great inventions, Twitter, man on the moon, cellphones, and Skype along with thousands of other worthy things that I could mention, they finally have found a way to take an ass, transplant it and make tits. There is hope for me. I am not sure where I need to sign up for this surgery, but I give you proof.

If all goes as planned I should be a 36C. Happy Friday friends. I will be back Monday in full working order and full of more poop than a Christmas turkey.

XO,

Dusty

The Affair

If you didn't notice, yesterday there was not a post. Today is supposed to be Tater Queens Fashion Inspirations and I just can't. You see starting on Friday of last week I knew I just didn't feel right. Something in my gut was telling me that something was off. By Monday it was official. I found out that my nose is having an affair with a box of Kleenex. I don't know how it happened. I thought I was doing everything right, but sometimes a cheater is just a cheater. 

For the last five days all they have done is blow. I am at the point of saying "get a room" but I don't know that it would do any good. So, I have drowned my sorrows in Mucinex, some antibitoics I found in the cabinet and Sprite. I may have to go to rehab for the amount of liquid I have drank. Day in and out this pounding and heavy breathing is just off the charts. If it gets to be two much, I think I will consult a doctor friend and have a love affair with a shot of something in the butt cheek. 

Until then, its going to take a little time to get over this. Please send good thoughts my way and pray that my nose sees the light and dumps that cracker with aloe and I can be back to my old self again.

On another note, I did muster up the strength to attend my son's parent teacher conference only to be informed that my kid seems to be the class clown. Hum, wonder where he gets that from? I must evaluate.

Happy Wednesday,

Dusty

History Lesson 1-0 huh?

I am full of useless knowledge and so to keep my brain cells full of nothing, I have been relying on Wikipedia for informational purposes. As I research the meanings, origins, and definitions of words and yes this is for a certain purpose but that's for another post, I have found some pretty fun facts that at my age thought that someone in my social studies or science class should have taught me in school. I mean why in the world would I rely on myself to do such things?

First, did you know that one tree produces about 100 pounds and 83 million rolls of toilet paper a day. Which only means that the whole world is full of shit.

Although mouthwash, relieves bad breath and kills some types of organisms in our mouth, it does not last long enough to kill all germs and disease throughout the day. Which only means the whole world has a potty mouth.

Tampons originated from the medieval French word tampion, meaning a piece of cloth to stop a hole, a stamp,plug, or stopper. Which only means every woman hits a hole in one.

Soap is made up of fatty oils and lubricants which takes its name from Mount Sapo where animal sacrifices had taken place. Which only means one stint in jail and you will learn the term soap on a rope.

And finally it's a known fact that chewing gum does not stay in your stomach for 7 years. So guess what? Yo momma lied. Which only means you can tell her to blow it out her ass.

So kids, I hoped you enjoyed this little history lesson. These are deep thoughts I don't have very often but thought that if I shared, my wisdom will be your gain. Or you could tell me to blow it out my ass, but that wouldn't be very nice now would it?

Hey, Monday,

Dusty

EEEE HAW!

People it's Friday. I hope everyone has a great weekend. I will be lounging by the sea, with a rum filled umbrella drink, with some guy named Juan playing naked beach volleyball. And after I wake up from that dream, I will not really be doing jack crap. So, I leave you with this. We went to the fair a couple of weeks ago. Yes, I took pictures of my kid. They were awesome, he's the greatest thing, blah blah. But I got to see these beautiful creatures.......

Donkeys

Yes, that's right donkeys. I love them. I want one but our neighbors might report us to the codes department. We pulled up behind the trailer, I jumped out in a line of traffic and took this picture. I am sure the people behind us thought I was nuts, but I as you know by now don't really care what other people think. 

 Love an animal, any animal, even a jackass. 

Dusty