They Call Me Yuck Mouth

Over the Memorial Day weekend, I don't think I moved much except to eat and pee. I literally stayed inside and on my iPad for days. And although some might think that I was a lazy ass. I totally was. I honestly didn't want to do anything. It was a long weekend and I utilized my restless skills to the max. Pinterest and I were buds. So, I came across this post on how to make your teeth whiter. I pinned it and then two days later decided to try it.

Here's what you will need.

1 teaspoon of baking soda
1 teaspoon of peroxide
1 dab of toothpaste
1 dixie cup (or Red Solo Cup, I fill you up)

Mix all ingredients together, then put on your tooth brush. It's not a thick paste. I brushed for two minutes. And the outcome was this. I guess if you did this once a week like recommended for a month you might see results. I did notice a slight difference but other than that the only difference I noticed was my teeth were really clean and squeaky. Be careful with the peroxide it is a little hard on the gums. So, will I try it again? I don't know. It tasted like crap but I might just give it another whirl for a month to see. One day probably isn't significant enough. Why can't the white strips be cheaper.

So, do you have any home remedies? Fill me in.

Happy Wednesday,

Dusty

Cherry Bomb

Tuesday's aren't they just full of hope? Not really. Tuesdays are like the worst days besides Monday. But its closer to Friday. Sorry, I have been in a funk lately. I have had no will power to blog. No will power to read. No will power to do much of anything. I have sort of lost my mojo. People pissing on my parade and I don't like it. 

Let's just get to it. This weekend was the Honky Tonk with some great peeps. I met new friends and got to do alot of people watching. I did a little dancing. My legs hurt the next day which means I am way out of shape. And I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache which only means I am not a professional drinker anymore. In other words, me and drinking are only friends until the next day. 

Here's the highlights. Beer, shots, beer, dancing with fingers, pee bandit, uncontrollable giggles, Waffle House, bed. 

The place that we go has a cover of $8 smacks and free beer until 11 pm. You can't beat that. Here's where the shots came in. We had a bet, me and my partner in crime, Becca with my former partner in crime Mary who moved. She won the bet so we said we would do shots in her honor. All I know is I don't like shots. I don't do them but a bet is a bet. I do know that I will never drink something called a Cherry Bomb again.

Next on our way to the awful Waffle Becca has to pee. Like really pee bad, to the point of cold sweats. I ask her if she wants me to pull over. She says yes. Driving down the road I pull over on the side of the road behind this building. Nothing out of the ordinary just the back of a building with another smaller building with a light on and a motorcycle parked beside it. Becca gets out runs around the car and in T minus two seconds five burly bikers come flying around the corner. Before she could even get her pants down, she takes off like the road runner around to the passenger side, jumps in, I put it in reverse and back up and speed away like the Dukes of Hazzard. We drove by and I noticed the sign. Knowing a little about the biker world realized that this was a motorcycle cop club which then became even more funny. We sped off like crazy. Becca still had to pee. I go a little ways down the street, pull into a grocery store with a fully lit parking lot, she jumps out and lets it rip. I laughed so hard I banged my head on the horn while it honked loudly. I swear we can't go anywhere without something happening. We laughed, while she explained I needed to hurry to the Waffle House so she could go wipe. Really at this point it doesn't matter? But it was still hysterical. I have never seen that girl run and jump into a car so fast in my life. Good times.

And for your viewing pleasure, here it is. The video of the night. You have to listen to it closely. I love how the DJ is counting down for the line dance to begin while we are getting ready to do this disgusting shot. Oh, and mine was as full as Becca's but I said, no way and poured mine into someone else's glass. Believe me what I took was enough. Ugh!

Jun 8, 2013 | by dustydunbaralley on Keek.com

Happy Tuesday!

Dusty

Rhino Reject

As I set here eating this diet mac and cheese, yes diet mac and cheese. You want to fight about it? I didn't think so. Give me a break, this low sugar thing is not fun and I am drinking Sprite Zero which basically tastes like crap. But it will do because I am starting to get used to it. And for the record, I had to take control of my life and bring coffee back. So instead of five teaspoons of sugar there are the lone three. It's not the same but I had to stop wasting my money on flavored creamer because it just wasn't working for me.

Any way, even though it's Tuesday, I hope everyone had a great weekend. I got to have a few glasses of Sangria on Friday night with my wonderfully, beautiful friend, Lorraine. And now the count down is on to Honky Tonk Saturday but I am not going to say a lot about it except maybe a few times all week long. Last week was also D day with the allergist. I arrived at my appointment 20 minutes early as requested. The door was locked. Who tells you to come to an appointment and not leave the door open? Seriously, who am I going to rob? A bunch of nurses with 71 types of tree serum they inject into your body? Woo wee. That will make you high as a giraffe's ass. After calling and them letting me in, I fill out the necessary paperwork, go into a room and wait. A nurse comes in and asks me to blow into this contraption like blowing out candles. That went over smoothly. I failed with flying colors. Puh-lease give me some real candles will ya?

She then comes back in and says the doctor would be in to see me in a few. Oh, goody, I can't wait. NOT! Then walks in Dr. McHottie. I mean seriously, who would have thought that a snot doctor could look so good.  Well, shitballs, if I knew that I would have dressed up for the occasion of checking my nasal passages and discussing my addiction to Kleenex tissues. I might have even trimmed my hose hairs and had my upper lip waxed since he was so up close and personal. He explains to me the process of the test which I didn't hear a word he said because I was focused on the once used to be hole in his ear from an earring which told me at one time he was a wild rebel. Grrr. He walks out, the nurse comes back and states the process again because I wasn't listening. Then it goes ding dong in my head.  Am I wearing the most ragged bra I own? He can't poke my back with a bra that is now the color of grey with strings and stuffing hanging out. So I immediately ask to go to the restroom to see if I put on a good or bad bra. I run to the restroom, take my shirt off, see that I am good to go and Dr. Sexy pants can look at my supple back all he wants.

I go back in, the nurse says take your shirt and bra off and put this paper contraption on and lie on your stomach. Oh, this is getting better, the bra didn't matter, thank god I shaved under my arms. So, I am setting in this cold ass room thinking I am about to be up close and tit personal with Doc McStuffins and the nurse walks in and says, "Now I am going to administer the test on your back." Uh, say what? You? What happened to Snot Patrol? I just had an up close and personal conversation about by rhino area in which he was almost lip to lip and you are going to poke me? What a friggin, let down. At that point, I didn't care if she stuck my butthole. And then to make it worse, I fail some of the test and then she had to inject me 13 different times with needles to see if I was allergic to something else. My date with the Dr. Doolittle just went from dinner for two to Match fucking dot com reject.

After it was all said and done, he comes in, tells me I am allergic to basically the state of Tennessee, schedule  an appointment to start taking shots every week and have a great day. I mean the bastard could have slapped me on the ass like a football coach and said, "nice job." Oh, well, that's what I get. It's not like I would have went out with him, he was married and had kids (see up close and personal) but it sure was good to feel wanted. That's right -wanted. He wanted my co-pay and I end up with nothing but a bunch of snot reducing medicine. Remind me that doctors are pimps next time I have the idea that any one of them could be Dr. McDreamy would ya! This is defiantly a classic case of getting poked and not getting kissed.

Happy Tuesday,

Dusty

I Took A Dump!

"Beginnings are usually scary, endings are usually sad, but it's the what's in the middle that counts. So when you find yourself at the beginning, just give hope a chance to float up. And it will." -Hope Floats

I love that quote from one of my favorite movies. So, whether it's renewing old friendships with a night out, succeeding in class, working your way up the top or realizing life is moving on, make everyday count.

Have a great weekend friends,

Dusty

Oh! What a Night!

Last week, I posted just a little fragment of a throw back picture on Instagram. This week I am sharing the whole photo for those of you that didn't get to see it on my personal Facebook. And then it's story time.

(L to R: Rachel, Mary, Carla, Me, Stephanie, Becca)

So you know I have been pondering life lately, friendships and my future. Like I have said, with my sweet Mary moving away, I don't want to regret not spending time with people that I love and reconnecting to the friends who truly were and are my friends. These five women were in my life for a reason and this night was no exception. Here is a little back story and then a little about this night. 

It was 2003, my Bachelorette party. We drove to Atlanta for the weekend. I was once engaged to a guy. A great guy who brought some great people into my life. Let me just get this out of the way. I don't like hurting people unless I am defending my family or friends. We were together for a while. We had a great life. This was one of the happiest times in my life. But I hurt him and a lot of people. I strayed. I thought I wasn't worthy. I was fooled. The relationship because souly of me ended. I apologize to him, all of these people above and all of the people that I hurt during this time. 

As I raise my child, I find it sometimes difficult teaching him the lessons in life when myself need to rectify certain things that of happened over the last several years. Since having him I have done everything in my power to do the right things.  He was a wonderful guy, with a great family. I was lost. I hope someday there is forgiveness because we share some of the same friends. But after this ended there was a separation. Everyone went different directions. I know he doesn't read this blog nor gives a flying rats ass but from the bottom of my heart I am sorry to you and your family. I wish you well. I know that he has married now. I hope he's doing great happily married, receiving bunches of hugs and kisses with children running around and if its any consolation my life didn't end with a happy ending. It ended with a womanizing, cheating douchebag. I received my karma Mr. P. But, I do have a wonderful son out of it and I move on to find happiness for me and my child.

Okay, I feel better now. This was an eventful weekend. We started out on a road trip in a van driven by Stephanie, who bought it shortly before. We made a quick trip to pick up her tags and off we went. The ride down in the tube of death was eventful. After getting lost trying to find the hotel, crossing 4 lanes of traffic at wharp speed, we finally arrived. 

Saturday we got ready, went riding around Buckhead to find a party place. A guy standing outside with a megaphone shouted, "We want you on our bar!" Huh? My Aunt Carla said, "We are going in for one drink and leaving." Guess what? We never left. Coyote Ugly, we left our hearts with you! Here are the events of all these beautiful women above.

Rachel: My cousin. I think she slept through most of the death ride. I deemed her full of useless knowledge on this trip because she claimed to know Brad Pitt's birthday and all celebrity gossip. It was also discovered that after returning to our hotel and we were getting dressed for bed. I looked over and noticed that her bra and thong were neon green as she was bent over. In a drunken stupor, I yelled, "Oh, my god her ass just swallowed Kermit the Frog!" We laughed and snorted for a long time until passing out. 

Mary: Mary and Carla were no good on the way down. Mooning the interstate traffic. Mary and Becca in this friendship were the Jagermeister queens. Give them a bottle and usually Mary ended up on my floor. The highlight of this weekend was when the music was blaring and she is standing on the back of the booth, security had asked her to get down. After doing mouth to mouth shots of some clear liquid, looked at us and him and said, "He doesn't fucking know me!" She clapped her hands as to turn him off like a clapper light contraption and continued to dance. She only did so dancing while drunk. She eventually ordered food at Waffle House, passed out at the bar, woke up, went outside, and tried to get into the wrong van. Mary 0 - Coyote Ugly 1.

Carla: My aunt. My rock. The sensible one screaming at Mary not to do mouth to mouth shots. She's a nurse. Mary didn't care. At one point, I looked up and she had been swept off her feet by a gentleman. Literally in the air. It probably would have been fun but I think she was afraid her tits were going to pop out. She also couldn't believe that my cousin was wearing a lime green thong. Trust me. It was traumatic. 

Dusty: Had my hot pants on. Danced like I was a Solid Gold dancer. These were the days I wore a thong. This was the last weekend I did so. I am fairly certain, that I had to use a metal detctor to retrieve it from so far up my crack. At one point during the night while shaking my money maker, someone slipped $20 bucks in said thong that apparently was hanging out my hot pants. Sober I would have thrown the money back at them. Drunk, I bought a round for my friends. I am caring like that. I threw all thongs away after arriving home.

Stephanie: Driver of the Tube of Death. Has an unmistakable laugh. She's a people watcher and very hella tall. She and I line danced until my feet hurt. And she smoked the longest cigarettes in the world. Windshield pokers. I swear they were weapons. Beautiful heart and always in control. A little flirt. I think she did a little dirty dancing herself with a few. But if she was drunk I was drunker because I never could tell. 

Becca: My partner in crime. The calm one. Laughed until she cried. She and Rachel conspired alot I am sure. She's a silent dancer. Could drink us under the table. By the end of the night she was slurring her words. I always love when she got hammered, she pronounced everything slowly. She was the co-pilot. At one point, I am sure her eyes popped out of her head while riding in the bullet and prayed to Baby Jesus. This also was one of those rare moments she wore her hair down and had makeup on. She made me aware of this after seeing this photo.

So my point to this story is this. I love these girls. This was one of the best times of my life. Yes, we gathered for a reason, but that is the past. My future is to re-connect and although one of us is missing, we will toast in her honor and send her photos. I want to be able to say, "hey, lets get together and not let anything stop us." I am too old to dance on table tops again, but I do want to revive these friendships. For these five I will love forever. Next weekend, its Honky Tonk time and I get to see a few of these girls. I absolutely can not wait.

Happy Throwback Thursday,

Dusty

Honky Tonkin' Time in Tennessee

I have decided that its sort of time to get my buns in gear and live life a little bit. If you remember a few weeks ago I posted about my friend Mary moving away. It really put things in perspective for me. I don't want to spend my life missing my friends. I don't go out as often as I should but I decided that even with being a mom, that I can go out and have harmless fun which translates to Honky Tonk time. So my partner in crime, Becca are recruiting the troups and going out to see the cowboys. Now before you get all excited, cowboys aren't really my type. I am sure that if you read my blog enough, that I am a tattoo, rock and roll kind of girl, although I may change my ways to that thinking since I haven't had super luck. But that's okay. I am going to be open minded and by open minded I mean, forget the guys right? Let's go line dancin' and people watchin'. Yahoot!

So, in two weeks I will be fretting about my hair, makeup and clothes. I don't usually dress the honky tonk part. I never did. I used to have ton's of "club" clothes, but I got rid of those a long time ago. So, I am not sure what to wear but I am fairly certain I won't be wearing a flat pair of boots. I love them don't get me wrong, but if this girl is going to do it, I am going to do it up right.

Here's what I am thinking. I love graphic tees and I have been eyeing a Johnny Cash or Jack Daniels tee for a while. Pair it with some worn out jeans.

Then add. Some stackables and a great pair of black leather hooker heels and this could be a rockin' outfit.

Although, I don't know if I could find this shirt in time, but it sure would be cool, right? I mean its not your basic country but I can pull it off.

What do you wear when you go out to da club? 

Dusty

Where's Waldo?

No your eyes are not deceiving you. It's me. I know. I know. Blogger was a little shocked to. It took a long time to open the site because I think it didn't believe it was me and was doing a full body scan to make sure. Once it reached the breast area it was confirmed. No tits. Check. Proceed.

Did everyone have a great Memorial Day slash long weekend? I did. And if I see another skinny Barbie like figure in a bikini with a fruity drink in their hand I am going to order that they be sought out and destroyed by a Mob like group who force them to eat large pizza's three meals a day without exercise or sunlight for three weeks straight. Please bitches eat some beef.

Sorry I have neglected everyone. It's been a hectic two weeks. The Kid had baseball tournaments. And it literally consisted of go to work, get home, dress him in proper attire, attend such game, scream my lungs out, come home, eat, shower and bed. Then repeat the next day until the little shits got beat. Don't get me wrong I loved every second of it. But I was worn out. And I hear in this game of motherhood that it only gets worse as they get older. Oh goody. By that time, the gas prices will be sky high and I will have to revert to a dog and sled type transportation method which will get a lot of stares in the South since the only time it snows, is when the Midwest decides its had enough for a dumping season.

I also have just been dealing with life. I have not been feeling real swift lately. Another beautiful magical thing of living in Tennessee is the allergy season. I take medication for it but now I have to be fully tested this Friday. So I can't take any for seven days because it alters the test. By the weekend, I will look like Rudolph which is only supposed to fun a certain time of year. All I know is as soon as these tests are done I am going to pop a Zyrtec like a two rounder drug dealing hooker on dollar night.

I also in my lovely absence have taken up residence with a new doctor. My primary physician decided to up and close her practice without any warning. I suspect she ran off to join a line dancing cult. In the meantime, my aunt referred me to a great guy. The only catch is they used to date. He's now married with children, but he walks in, sticks out his hand and I am like, "Dude, we have been drunk together. Let's hug it out." After we get through the catch up on how ya been, whatcha been up to and yeah can you believe it, I have a kid, he sends me to have blood drawn. Six vials of it. If he wanted to paint a room with it, I would have bought him a gallon at Lowe's. He wants to check my sugar levels and every other test known to mankind that will be easy to cure with a vitamin. I explained to him that I feel like I am going through the change of life. Yet, he also seems to have had a major reaction when I told him I put 5 teaspoons of sugar in my coffee every morning. Apparently, this is frowned upon in this establishment. But it could explain my tiredness, night sweats and my ass ballooning up to the point of taking flight if my thighs weren't so big to keep me grounded.

So, in light of all this bullcrap. I decided to take matters into my own hands and cut out the sugars. I gave up my beloved Sprite for Sprite Zero. I am not real thrilled. I had no sugar in my coffee instead using flavored coffee creamer which I picked one that wasn't of my liking, Italian Sweet Cream. I thought maybe this was my ticket to cannoli flavored heaven but that was a bust. I am trying Vanilla Caramel tomorrow. I am not having bread and only good sugars. So far my head is pounding and I have pissed my brains out from the water intake but I am bound and determined to get in my swim suit before the season is up. And it works in my favor since Easter is over and I can't eat the Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs, six at a time.

Did I just ramble? Okay, well, that's life lately and let me know your favorite coffee creamers. I am bound and determined if all else fails to save my teeth.

Happy Monday,

Dusty

In The Bucket

Everyone has a bucket list in there life. No we probably don't always set down and say this is the stuff I wish to do or have before I croak, but at one time or another everyone says "I want to do this or that." I was thinking about all I want to accomplish or do. So here's my bucket list. I know I probably won't do most of these but it sure is fun to dream right?

1. Be a good mother!

2. Move to the Cape Cod area. I want to retire in a quaint town where I can see the ocean and smell the air. Ride a bike to the grocery and set out on my porch with the breeze. I want to have a little cottage and eat seafood.

3. Own a boutique. Maybe this is what I will do later on in life after I move to Cape Cod. A little store filled with salvaged treasures and cool clothes with my own creations. I love salvaged,vintage pieces whether it be furniture or clothing. 

4. Go to Italy. I want to have all the food and bread a girl can eat. Then after I have taken in enough red sauce to have acid reflux for days then I will go see the sites.

5. Be published in a magazine. 

6. Go to New York and attend Fashion Week. I will probably see New York before I see fashion week but it would be so fun and hip to set in an audience and see all the designers even though I can't afford a thing. I would also like to see New York at Christmas, skate in Rockefeller Center and then visit the Hamptons.

7. Meet Bon Jovi! I mean there's a little teenager inside all of us. Who doesn't want to hang out with a rock band. I did meet all the guys from Def Leppard once. That was pretty cool.

8. Take Ian to see a Yankees game. 

9. Learn to sew. My mother was teaching me but we got side tracked. But I would love to learn. I would be a pillow making beast.

10. Hug a panda. I love pandas. I just want someone to give it a little sleepy drug, I will run in kiss it, give it a hug and make like Speedy Gonzales out of there before it realizes I am bait. 

11. Learn to snow ski. I love snow and being from the South we don't see a ton of it. But I would love to stay in a cabin and snow ski.

12. Attend the Olympics. I love the games. I am so not athletic but I would love to see all the athletes competing and the reward for all their hard work.

So there's my bucket list. By most standards not really anything exciting. But I am a simple kind of girl. 

Do you have a bucket list? What's on your must do list before you kick the tin can?

Happy Tuesday,

Dusty

Proud Mary

It's been a bit huh? Sorry I have been missing in action. I have been just busy. Busy with my thoughts. Busy with my son and busy contemplating life. It's funny how there are twist and turns. I thought I was over most of the twist and was turning a curve but then something hits you and sends you back to the fork in the road. I still have no idea where I am headed. 

Lately I have been dealing with finality. The finality of love lost. To know that it is possible forever. With the knowledge that everyday my child grows a day older, one step away to becoming something only a mother dreams of. The hope of one day finding a peace inside with the ability to know that my mistakes where just that. And then of loss. Loss of an identity. Right now I don't know which one to tackle first. 

Sometimes it unimaginable having to say goodbye. I have done it like most too many times. As we get older the inevitable happens and that loss is almost too much to bare. Goodbye to love one's is never a heartache you get over. 

Then there is a different goodbye. A goodbye to friends. People you trusted with your heart. Somewhere you know that they can make their way back, but you wonder will they? 

I have been blessed in this heart with some of the greatest friends. Friends who love me for me. Who know me. My true heart. I am not a naturally trusting person. Always cautious as to who and when I let people in. It's served me well in my life but also as a henderance. Mostly held at arms length but then there are a few that encompass my soul. Those I love with my whole heart knowing that I will never be hurt by. 

Sometimes life gets in the way. Our paths become different. We change and follow a direction unknowingly or maybe unwillingly taking the time to nurture that friendship making it grow as we grow. 

This weekend I hugged my friend Mary goodbye for she's moving on. Her family moving to start a new journey. We had time to reflect on the best years we spent together. Years that others that joined us can never say it wasn't the best time of our lives. The laughter and the fun but the purity of true friends just enjoying each other unedited, uncensored, and free. Free to be who we are. Then it was gone. Gone by a decision. A decision to walk away from one of the happiest times I have ever known. Why? A question that will forever be undecided or unanswered only to say that sorry seems the only thing that makes sense. Sorry that I hurt a beautiful heart for he undeserving knowing that to lose love by choice is one thing but losing that best friend in someone is another. I yearn to place a new best friend to love one day. But also sorry I walked away from friendships with the trick of the mind to think we would all still remain in tact. Some did and some did not. But I am more sorry that I wasted so much time not always being present. 

But we venture. Out into the unknown. Time takes over. Our lives change. Some for the better and some not so much. We grow older, our families change. We add lives that take up our time unselfishly, yet somewhere, yes somewhere it should have been shared. 

My soul has always been with these friends. The family of Gray's. Even far away. They are my family. And as I hugged her and I know not for the very last time because she's only going to be miles away and I vow to visit, we both crying, we took a breath at the same time as at one time our souls in sync and say I love you, at that moment I realized no matter the time lost, nor the change of having babies and busy schedules, my heart will always be where she will be and her heart will always be where I am.

I cherish every second with them. A life time of memories filled with photos, stories, and proof that bonds with friends do exist. I am so lucky that there are people in my life that I love so much. One's that no matter how crazy my life gets, they still are honest and loyal and love me and I intend to love them just as much right back for they have stood by me on my own journey and no matter how right or wrong I was........ remained.

Say I love you today and every day to your friends,

Dusty

Rewind the Time

So, I thought it would be a great idea since I have some new peeps to do a throw back post. One of my all time favorites. Let you get a feel of who I am and then refresh the minds of the ones who read. Some of you when you start reading a blog don't always go back through all the posts. I myself find someone new I go back and read as many posts as possible to get a feel of what's going on. So I give you one of my master pieces. Enjoy.

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.

I know funny huh. There is a post that follows post later on called We Broke Up this where I had the hemmy removed. You can go stalk my blog and find it.  But this was best day of my butts life.

Happy Tuesday,

Dusty

Brush Strokes

It's Wednesday. My portion of fashion, beauty, and all that crap segment of this blog. I know I haven't posted something in a while, but I am back today showing you a little trick that has made a world of difference. Yes, I know this is something that has probably been around forever and blogged about. But guess what? I am not a makeup artist. I just apply war paint and off to the tribal dance I go. But I am a little excited to tell you all about my new discovery.

As I have gotten older and the wrinkles set in, my makeup routine has gotten simpler. This really attributes to being a mother and hoarding all the sleep I can get. Now that I have mastered the art of bronzing. Not really, but for my standards I have taken it by storm. My day makeup and most night consists of the new BB Cream that is out. It's light and I can still pound on the powder because I like a matte type finish product. But with this you can also use a powder brush for an all over touch and still have a dewy finish.

Now to the discovery. I usually save my heavy foundation for when I go out and I know I am going to be sweating, dancing and a long night with friends or family. I usually apply with the normal foundation brush. So, the other day I was reading an article on The Beauty Department (Lauren Conrad's Beauty site). It spoke of this different type of foundation brush to use, that blends the foundation, into the skin for an more even skin tone and coverage.

As I ponder this I click to find out much the brush is, uh, that's a no go in my wallet, so I decided to improvise. 

If you click on the link above it will show you a picture of the foundation brush. I found this brush at my local supermarket for $4.99. It's actually a mineral brush, but has the same type of flat top as the foundation brush shown in the article. I decided to give it a whirl. And it was magic. It gives a totally different coverage than a regular long bristled brush does and with less time. I also tried the technique shown going from the inside out making a star and that was a bigger revelation. Now these bristles are a bit longer than the one shown and I thought about cutting them a tad but that would probably cause me hysterics of impatience.

Honestly, I won't ever apply foundation without this type of flat head brush again. I might even invest in the other brush or find an equivalent not so expensive but for now, my Taters, do this. Use it with regular foundation or the BB Cream shown above. I am loving the new BB Cream from Garnier because it now comes in oil free formula. I top this off with my Rimmel Stay Matte Powder.

If I give you one tip to try this is it. A flat top brush is seriously the way to apply foundation and it blended right in and left no stroke marks or missed spots. Do it! You can thank me later.

Do you have a foundation technique or use this type of brush? Let me know what you think. And if you try it, Tweet me later and tell me how it goes.

That's this Tater Queens Tip for the week. See you next time.

Dusty

I Can Do Tricks

Since you liked Naked Man so much, I thought I would tell you another adventure. If you didn't read Naked Man, you missed out.

I like the idea of trickery. When Becca and I would go to bars I like to tell stories, give fake names which we have already established mine was Beth and make believe I am something I am not. Once we went to this kind of hip hop bar. I am not sure why now, but it had to be for some odd reason. Boredom maybe. Anyway, as the night progressed, this guy came and sat down at our table. We used to get this alot at the Honky Tonk too. People just randomly coming up to our table for conversation. Any hoot, he sets down and starts asking us questions. Now let me tell you a little about Becca. She's great at playing along. If I ever started one of these trickery sessions, she knew exactly how to follow my lead. 

After a few minutes of prying and poking, he asked me what I did for a living. I said, that I was an undercover cop. To be clear he was either high as a giraffes ass or wasted because his eyes about popped out of his head. It took a few minutes to convince him but I did. I told him that I was off duty but that every cop was still on duty truthfully. He asked me if he got in his car if he could possibly be arrested for drinking and driving. I explained to him that I could make a citizens arrest since I was off duty. He continued to ask who I worked for and I told him that I couldn't divulge that information. I mean there wasn't any information to give him. I was an Executive Assistant at an architecture firm. The only thing I was arresting that night was a beer. He asked me of course about handcuffs; what man doesn't and I told him that I was off duty and I didn't carry my gun or handcuffs with me. I told him we were just there to have good time while off duty and he eventually went away white as a sheet.

About two weeks later, we were setting at the Honky Tonk and this guy comes by. Low and behold it was the same guy. I was singing at the top of my lungs to a Martina McBride song and he came over and said, "Don't I know you?" I said, "I don't know why?" He obviously was high as a giraffes ass or wasted again, he said, "Oh my god, you sing this song?" Uh, thank you dumbfuck, trickery number two. "I said, well maybe." The guy didn't remember he had just seen me two weeks ago and I was a cop. "I said, yes, I am an up and coming country music singer. This is my friend Becca, she's my stylist and that guy over there in the corner is Phil, he's my bus driver." Phil was some guy that used to hang out at the club, we were only acquaintances but he could have drove a Moped for all I know, but I think he played along with us that night. He was there every weekend as well, he knew our antics that's for sure. 

The guy walks off and before I know it, he's brought over friends, more stupid friends. I shook hands and then these dickdorks asked for my autograph. Well, being a up and coming country music singer who apparently copied Martina McBride, I signed their napkins and they went off into the depths of the bar. I am fairly certain we all burst into laughter. 

I am the master of trickery, which is pretty funny because I suck at lying but it was all in the name of free beer Saturday at the Honky Tonk. Thank you Martina McBride for making me famous if only for one night. 

Happy Tuesday,

Dusty

Brain Farts

I needed an ark this weekend. It rained and rained. I may or may not have only went to Wal-mart (which I loathe) and picked up a few things early Saturday morning in the pouring rain, just so I could set on my butt, watch Lifetime, scroll through Pinterest, read a magazine, play Diamond Rush and make barbecue  That could or couldn't have happened but if you were a betting fool, just lay down the hundreds. 

So here are few things swirling in my brain. You know how when we get the urge for a change and we want to redo a room in our house, we either add new furniture, new decor or paint. So, why is it that anytime we want a change to our homes, our bodies, our hair, etc we can do it but you don't see anyone going, "You know, today I want to paint my black car pink with a little white at the headlights." "I am thinking the ombre effect". Or, "I am so tired of the dull ass grey interior, I think I will hop down to the grocery, get some RIT and die my seats blood red?" 

Moving on.. does any one else think that Rachel Zoe looks like Grumpy Cat?

It's just an observation. Every single time I watch her show and her mouth is all pouted up, the first thing that comes to mind is Grumpy Cat. She has some of the sourest looks on her face for someone who is just BA-NAN-AS! Seriously, she gets on my nerves. I dig her style but her language of abbreviated words drives me nuts. I mean how much longer will it take your tongue and voice box to say "Major" instead of "Maj?" The other night I heard someone on the Real Housewives revere to opening a bottle of "Champs." I was like huh? Turns out it's Champagne. I guess that's the equivalent in the south of bring me a Lite.. a Bud Light. She wouldn't last three seconds here. Every word is  eight syllables, if she abbreviated we wouldn't know what the hell she would be talking about.

Speaking of fashion, I read a lot of fashion blogs. I love style, clothes, beauty, all that crap. There is one fashion blogger that I am not crazy about her style that much anymore, but I still follow her. I count how many times she does the flamingo pose. You know the one where they stand on one leg and then one leg hiked and is at a greater than or less than sign like in math?  I click over, scroll down and usually in photo three there it is, the lawn ornament that every Floridian has at their RV site. If this blogging thing doesn't work out I am sure a retiree living in an camper would get his thrill and hire her. I think it could be called Yard Porn. 

Well, that's all for now. I am going to go back to folding and sniffing my laundry. I somewhere had a case of ate up with the dumbass and put some clothes that I thought had went through the wash cycle. I took them out and dried them. After looking at the Kid's baseball uniform that I sprayed with Shout still had grass stains and realized that uh, something isn't right. These clothes didn't go through the wash cycle. A total brain fart. So, now I am having to sniff everything in these piles of laundry that are clean to see which ones are dirty. If you need me I will be the one in the corner high on Snuggle fabric softener. 

Happy Monday,

Dusty

Naked Man

Back a long time ago, we are talking way back like many plus years when I was single and ready to mingle, I had lets say a ton of fun. Some of the best times of my life were spent with my partner in crime Becca and we could get ourselves into some shitzle. We used to hang out at a local honky tonk. Every Friday and Saturday you could find us there. At first it was just us two, then we recruited a few more into our cult. We could call the bar and say, "We want to reserve a table" and they knew exactly who we were. We walk in to pay our cover charge and the girl would announce "The Party Girls" were here. I met some interesting people to say the least. Half of which I vaguely remember now what their names even where. And they probably don't remember my name because I called myself "Beth." 

One night we decided to venture to Downtown Nashville. We met some people there one of which his name was Will. Will was a preppy dude. He had flippy hair. An updated Elvis do with a college oxford shirt wearing twist. Will was a nice guy. He was kind of on the rebound because his girlfriend had dumped him. 

We sat down at the pool hall and Will was already fucked up worse than a dollar watch. We ordered a drink that cost a blazillion dollars and drank it. We all chatted and looked up and Will's friends had left his ass. That's right -at the bar -with us. Probably thinking he was going to get lucky. But that wasn't going to happen. I didn't go home with guys in bars.. or so I thought.

Will didn't have his cell phone. We were Downtown and we weren't going to stay long because the po po's swarmed that place on the weekends. His friends were no where to be found and he was licking the pavement. So, I said, look you can come with us and I will take you home tomorrow. 

We got back to my house with my 80 pound beast of a dog Mille waiting anxiously to go outside. We sat down, chatted and I left Will on the couch with said beast. She liked to cuddle.

Becca and I changed our clothes and went to bed with the door closed. I am pretty sure we had a convo about leaving the door open or closed but decided that if he was a mass murderer, the dog would take care of that.

We woke up. The sun was shining, the dog on the bedroom floor, look over at each other and there he was slap dab in the middle of both of us. Naked as a jay bird. We both roll out from each of our sides of the bed while Naked Man is face down with the pink thing on my sheets. Becca and I look at each other puzzled. How did he get in here? How did we not feel the bed move when he climbed in? Holy, shit, what will he think or tell everyone? My dog sucks at protecting her master. Again, his pink thing is on my sheets. Ugh! 

So I looked and her and said, "Well, you wake him up." She said, "I ain't waking him up you wake him up." This went back and forth for about 5 minutes. I finally lifted the sheet and slapped him on the ass and said, "Hey Naked Man you have to get up and I need to take you home." 

On the ride to his house, not much was said. He explained where he lived, which I can't remember to this day, said thank you and got out of my SUV.  I never saw him again until....

A few years later, this firm I worked for the copier broke. I placed a service call. A guy walks in with an updated Elvis do with a college oxford shirt twist. I immediately recognized him but didn't say anything. I called Becca and said, "You will never guess who is fixing our copier?" She said, "Who?" I said, "Naked Man!" We both laughed and he came over and said that the copier needed parts, he would have to order them and come back. I signed his service ticket. I think he recognized my name because I never saw him again. Some other guy came to put the parts on the copier. That's right run, you to twisted for color TV creeper.

To this day, we still have no clue how he got in the bed. That's the honest truth. I don't let nobody in my cookie jar unless its pure love and she didn't either. Neither of us were drunk because we couldn't afford the drinks in that place. To sum it up. My dog has been and always will be a worthless guard dog. We figured out that she probably took up too much room on the couch and her breath ran him off and he was just too wasted and climbed on in.

And that's the story of Naked Man. One of the many adventures Becca and I have had together. She still can't believe I slapped his butt with my bare hand and I still can't believe his flesh and boner was on my sheets. Where ever you are Naked Man thanks for the memory. I am sure you are a Lifetime movie maker about a drunk who crawls into bed with strange women. I washed my sheets promptly after you left, you perverted bastard. 

Happy Tuesday,

Dusty

To Infinity & Beyond

There's a feeling you get when you become a mother. I don't know that I can explain it but you automatically feel in love. It's defiantly a different kind of love that you would have with another person. You are a lioness protecting your cub at all times. 

If I never do anything else in my lifetime I would be content. Why? Because my greatest accomplishment will be my son. Will I be perfect at it? I don't think so, but I believe there is a bond between a mother and her child that is different than a father and a child. And boys attach themselves to their mothers especially. 

For years before I had The Kid, I wanted a tattoo but couldn't make up my mind. I mean its permanent. There's no rubbing it off. So when he was about four, I got his first name tattooed on the inside of my ankle. It was uncomfortable but I thought I was at the front of the titanic yelling, "I am the Queen of the World!" But here lately as he's gotten older I have wanted another one. Something that symbolizes my love for him and represents me as a mother. For the last several months, I have looked and drew them out. I pinned them on Pinterest. I went back and forth and I knew that I wanted an infinity. Infinity is forever. I found one. I actually showed it here.

I wanted something dainty and girly because it was going on my wrist. So, I said, let's do this.  I hem hawed around about it for a long long time because I hate needles and I was a big fat chicken. Same scanario as with the other tattoo. I finally made the appointment with my cousin. And here it is.

It's pretty awesome. And who better to place something so meaningful for the rest of your life than a family member. Brian is so talented. He's got his own story himself. Fought his way back, now has a beautiful wife and a daughter. He made a choice to live his life the best way he can and is doing something he loves. To say how proud I am of him is an understatement. 

He was pretty nervous doing it because my wrist is tiny and it used a very tiny needle for this particular tattoo. He had not used one before so I was his first. And let me just inform you because I know you all are wondering. Yes, it hurt like a bitch! I think he probably thought I could have been giving birth again. Holy shitballs. I gritted my teeth, no tears and did it.

I love tattoos but I want them to tell a story. A story of a journey or love that way in your heart it's there for the right reason. So here's my story in my own words...........

"Two hearts. One a mother's, one a son's bound together until infinity."

So there's the surprise I promised. Happy Monday!

Dusty

Just Me!

Thank you all for supporting this crazy ride! This has brought me so much happiness and comfort knowing I can spread my crazy bull around to those who will read it. Have a great weekend. I can't wait to show you my surprise on Monday! Now I gotcha and you wanna know don't ya? 

Quick Fix

It's Wednesday. Spring has hit Tennessee and even though it usually has to be a thousand degrees before I wear shorts if it's above 60, people rip out the flip flops. Well, not this chickie. But since everyone is showing off their bare skinned legs, today on the Tater Queens Fashion Wednesday, I wanted to share something I found that is Hot Snot. 

This stuff has been around for a while and I am sure a million posts written on it but not by me. So ha! I don't get out in the sun alot. And when I say that I mean I don't lie on a float for 6 hours and baste myself like a roasted turkey. I do get out in it, we have a swimming pool and I tan very easy. But I had a skin cancer removed a few years back and that hurt like a mother. Was it because of the sun? No. The tanning bed for which the placement of the cancer was (under my boob) and ever since then I don't take any chances. My body is prone to those types of cells and if I go out I slather on the sunscreen. I still get tan but I do it with protection. Sounds like your first lay. 

Any hoot, I bought this stuff about a month ago. I wanted to wear some capri pants so I decided I would whip this tan in a can out. I use self tanner but I needed something quick because my legs were white as a powdered donut. The Sally Hansen Airbrush Legs did the trick. 

I first shaved my legs, yes that's a miracle, and then I sprayed it on my dry skin. This stuff went on smooth. It didn't take much. I didn't have one streak. Not one and it had a great color. I used the medium glow. It does have a little shimmer to it, but I put a little lotion on after it had dried and it was awesome. I am sure you could lotion up before you spray it but be sure the lotion is absorbed into your skin. I washed my hands with soap and water and it came right off like last nights prom dress. It also actually stayed on my legs for two days. I recommend this if you are in a rush and need to get our tan on. Now, it is a little pricey at $11.99 a can, but I still have a ton left over. 

This Queen gives it 5 out of 5 taters. I actually will probably use this on my whole body if needed. So, prom girls save your money and  your skin because believe me needles in a boob hurt, get this tan in a can. You can hike that dress up and dance the night away and not look like two spaghetti noodles just out of the hot water.

This is your fashion advice on this Wednesday edition. Have you ever used this before? Whatcha think?

Queens out o' here,

Dusty

There's A Big Fat Difference

A few weeks ago there was a series going around called If I Were A Boy. I didn't get to honestly read a ton of them but it got me to thinking about raising my own male species and what its like to be in a male's shoes day to day. I know that in life we all want equality but let's get real, it's still not there yet. The statement Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus is probably the most accurate. Women by nature are nurturing and men are materialistic. Now before you go ranting let me explain. 

In some way or another we all have both traits. Whether you have a mothering instinct or not depends on your own personal level. You may not ever want to be a mother, but you have pets and that also falls into that nurturing category. Men are more masculine. The bring home the bacon type. Keep the household running. That's why when our relationships go down the tubes, the woman is always the one who suffers emotionally. We don't think about the things we have it's what we are losing. Men get all huffy when we then in turn take everything they own because they decided to not keep their peckers in their pants. I mean think about it. How many times have you heard, "I can't believe he did that. I loved him so much. We had a family. We were supposed to grow old together." And the males say, "Can you believe that bitch? She took my house, my pension, half my bank account and she's even turned the dog against me!" See the difference here? One is WE and the other is MY. Now not all men are like this. I am just speaking somewhat generally. I truthfully am so glad I have a son but it's hard sometimes raising one.

Male and females are different in many aspects. If I were to scratch my crotch and adjust myself in public, people would think I have the ickatooty. 

Guys tend to set around and talk about boobs. Ever met a man who wasn't interested in a breast of something? Not many. But if I were to set around and talk about the Tennessee Mahogany Throbber, I would a slutbunny. 

Men can grow their hair out and we flash back to every hair band in the 80's and fall madly in love with the wanna be rock star. A girl shaves her head, she's a dike. 

If we don't shave under our arms it's all gross and disgusting but they lift their arms up and it looks like an orangatang escaped from the zoo.

A man can have a hobby that cost thousands of dollars a year just to keep them occupied. A woman spends $300 dollars on a Coach purse and its a WTF moment and possibly a cause to file for bankruptcy.

Call a woman a grill master and all the buddies in the yard are going to call him the P word. I mean they have hiked their legs and peed all over the outdoor cooking stigma.

But here's the deal. I wouldn't want to be of the male persuasion. The dingalings serve their purpose but it's not model material. It just hangs there. Dangling. Just waiting to be stomped on by the cat the woman loves so much but it only wants to set in his lap. I don't care to be in charge of cooking out doors. I personally am afraid to light the thing on fire. I am partial to my eyebrows thank you very much and who wants to smell like a shish kebab all day. I don't need an expensive hobby. Books are cheap and I can entertain myself with the ID channel. If things don't work out I at least know how to Good Bye Earl his ass after 8 hours of tube time. And if I have an itch I will just set on my foot, scratch back and forth and claim my thigh was itching. 

All I can say is men are good. They are good at what they do. They are good at the things that society and nature tells them to be at and Women well, we just fucking rock!

Happy Monday,

Dusty

Proclamation of the Dusty Nation

This week has been hectic. The Kid has baseball games out the wazoo. Seriously, we have two more to go this week. Some days it's like watching turtles mate, but I love it. Here's my Proclamations of Twitter and Facebook this last week...or so..

My response to a photo shop application. My butt needs no shadowing it provides enough shade to keep the ants from being sun burnt. Boom! I declare my ass is fat.

I didn't write a blog post today because I was too busy watching human slip n slides beat the shit out of each other last night for $69 bucks. Boom! I do declare wrestlers have stock in Hawaiian Tropic.

Pondering. Do the guys from Duck Dynasty use Rogaine hair growth for men? Boom! I do declare Jesus and ZZ Top have been successfully cloned.

I feel sorry for people that don't know me. I really am that great! Boom! I do declare I really am that great.

Today I think I will brush my teeth while eating Oreos. What can I say I am bored. Boom! I do declare see comment above.

Warm weather only means that the douche thugs switch from jeans to shorts that now hang off their asses to their knees. Boom! I do declare thank you for wearing boxers so we know what your underwear collection 6 pack looks like when you bought them at Wal-mart.

And finally...Reading the Giant Panda breeding update from the Atlanta Zoo. Lun Lun has shown little interest in Yang Yang after 13 years. She's holding out for Ding Dong. I just know it. Boom! I do declare Pandettes ain't got time fo dat!

Boom! Happy Thursday,

Dusty

Where's the Beefcake?

If you noticed, I didn't blog yesterday. Why? Because I decided to make a deal. Let me explain. The Kid's birthday was back in February. With everything going on with baseball,  here and there, I haven't been able to schedule his birthday party. He's been asking everyday since to have a bowling party. So Sunday, while I was standing in line waiting for his team baseball pictures to commence, one of the mother's mentioned that it was her child's birthday and all he wanted was to watch Wrestle Mania on Pay Per View. Then the sound of the bell went off..Ding! Ding! On the way home I devised a plan. I said, "Okay, here's the deal. You can either have a bowling party this summer or I can buy the wrestling event on TV for your birthday but you have to forgo a party." After about a negative 30 seconds, he said, "Deal!" I thought I had hit the jackpot. Why? You ask again? Because a bowling party would have cost me up to $150 smacks. Humans beating the crap out of each other $60 smacks. I win! 

The Kid loves wrestling. I watch it. Or participate because that's what mothers do. I also can relate. As a kid my own father loved wrestling. He used to take us to wrestling matches in Downtown Nashville. We watched it every Saturday at noon and years later actually became friends with one of the wrestlers by the stage name Moon Dawgs. I also asked this friend at one time why in the world he wanted to be a Dawg of the Moons. It's a complicated, turkey leg eating story. 

Any hoot, this is a staple in our house. Ian loves it. Every Monday night and Friday night I know that I stay in the bedroom. I call it pure torture. Sort of. I mean these guys have more baby oil on their bodies than I did at 13 laying out by the county swimming pool trying to impress boys in a bikini. They are walking slip n slides. Then their heads look like they have been shrunk by a voodoo worshiper. Their arms can't even touch their sides, so they walk like plastic toy figurines. Don't get me wrong. The Rock is smoking hot as a mouth full of Hot Tamales, but their something weird about walking around in one piece looking bathing suites or speedos with over zealous muscles that look like pizza doughs strategically placed on their bodies.  And you really want to know the truth? The first thing I look at is their mid section. Where's the beef? The stuff? The rumble in the jungle? There's nothing that even resembles a bulge. They all have the mushy pecker syndrome. 

Then there's the issue of pouring sweat on to each other's bodies, the lifting up in the air with their hands between their legs. Is that normal? A man putting his hand between a guys legs on the little Tiffany box and picking them up only to slam them down? I don't understand the logic of picking up a 300 pound guy only to throw him down. Don't they know that shit hurts and could cause hemorrhoids? If you pick up a guy over your body weight and the blood vessels are bulging out of your head, that's a sign that you back away from the beef cake. I mean that crap would kill a normal person. And further more they are touching the marbles. You gotta be in touch with the manhood of the ball nation to do such a thing. 

I don't know that I really understand the logic of volunteering to be pile drived into a mat. Although one guy with his eyes rolled back in his head and tongue hanging out reminds me of when this Moma has a little snap session and whips life back into shape. But I do know this. I,  on my quest to come out as cheap as possible on the birthday party, made the deal of the century. No screaming kids. No invitations. No big bucks spent on slushies and pizza. I got to stay home, eat Burger King and see my kid happy as a lark. I guess it really is worth spending the money on half naked, crazy men.

Happy Tuesday,

Dusty