Category: etc.

Since the branches drag so low, it can’t be watered.

Since it can’t be watered, the branches drag low.

Since most the ornaments are paper, I’m really just hoping that they will all to slide off to the floor. Then I will pick them up someday.

I’ve decided that if I get one more political email from certain relatives who live in this country — legally — but who are NOT citizens and DON’T vote, I am definitely going on a statewide killing spree.

You know ….. this is just a huge HUGE pet peeve of mine.

So to all legal non-citizen residents of this country, especially if you’re related to me, which means you don’t even know about this blog and won’t ever read this, unless you run into one of those lurkers from my church — oh, hello! — I’m gonna say this: Please, please make haste to shut the hell UP about US politics. You’ve lived here forever and you’ve never taken the step to become citizens or exercised your right to vote? Then there is nothing else you should even be allowed to do but shut the hell up. That is the only thing I can abide from you on any topic of this nature at any time. I love you and all, but you have absolutely no right to complaaaaain or mmmmoan or really even SPEAK of a process you wilfully choose not to participate in.

I think, too, that whenever I see you from now on and you start raging about politics in your current non-citizen, non-voting state, getting all red-faced and breathless, you must deposit one dollar for every minute you speak into my huge hungry “Citizen or SHUT UP” Jar. Every unwanted political email that provokes a sigh and the enervating finger movement of deletion will cost you five dollars into the jar.

OR you could save up the money yourselves and finally become citizens, uhm, 35 YEARS LATER.

Bleah.

You know, we do have some real names, actual contenders.

I think.

We’re not completely insane.

I think.

Peeps …. I need names, names, give me names!! Give me your ideas for the name of the new coffeehouse. MB and I have gotten positively punchy about the whole thing. Our ideas just get dumber and dumber. At least I think. I literally can’t tell anymore. The following is what happened over margaritas the other night when multiple fleeting obsessions came crashing together. First, we were completely undone by the word “bean.” It became the best word ever, the only word that mattered in the whole wide history of words. Other words existed only to enhance the word “bean”; they had no other purpose. Have I mentioned the margaritas?

Okay, see what I mean here?

beany goodman

I dream of beannie

beany hill — okay, I’m sorry. I actually like this one. See? I need HELP!!!

bean franklin

(Then you can plainly see that we had a whole famous “Ben” and “Jean” thing going, too. We became hysterical over our own stupidity. Did I mention margaritas were involved? Finally, once we’d become nothing more than monkeys, it simply became the word “bean” inserted in the place of any noun in any movie, EVER. Back and forth, back and forth we went, like this:)

gunga bean

the silence of the beans

the elephant bean

the beans of navarone

bean hur — with the tag line, “Truly, this bean was the Son of God.” We were in screaming hysterics over this one. It was “The One.” We were going to die right then with our last gasping words to each other being: “Truly, this bean was the Son of God!” And right then, we were okay with that.

Clearly, we cannot be trusted here. Oh, did I forget to mention about the margaritas?

Save us. Right NOW.

If you give us a name that we end up using, I will send you …. beans! Hahahahaha!

Seriously, I will. I’m not kidding. I have to decide probably by Thursday.

I breathlessly await your clear-eyed brilliance.

Oh, and …. uhm, I’m opening my own coffeehouse.

Betcha didn’t see that coming, did you?

Details to come ….. 😉

We’re at her house, oh, about 10 seconds when I whip out the camera phone because I’m now obsessed with it. She is now obsessed with Curious George, hence the hat. Cool! “Smile for Tee Tee!”

Click.



“Tee Tee, lemme get some paper so we can draw with my new paint pens!” Great!

Click.

Tee Tee wearing out her welcome with her wretched camera phone. Girl in hat is doing silly faces. “Okay. Just look up at me for a sec.”

Click.

Really, she smiled two seconds later. Sometimes I truly believe that that lazy sun just borrows its light from our little glowing girl. Well, maybe it wavered a split second here, but that was all Tee Tee’s fault.

And several hours later, as we’re leaving, she clings to both of us, continually kissing us and whispering, “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to go.” With permission from dad, she walks us out to our car, holding our hands. “I wish you could stay. I don’t want you to go.” Little love explosions firing along my nerves the entire time. We wave goodbye. She waves goodbye wildly, calling, “I love you! I love you!” watching as we pull away, our hearts blazing from the sheer joy of her.

MB has finally broken the shackles of Liar Cheater Pig. The business is now ….. his. He’s been making payments to Liar Cheater Pig over the last few years in order to buy the business and LCP kept going back on his word, demanding more and more. Forget it, dude. It basically came down earlier this week.

MB told him over the phone:

“You can write me a check for what the business owes me and I will go on my merry way OR you can give me the rest of the equipment, I will consider the debt settled, and the business will be mine.”

(Uhm, as it was supposed to be two years ago.)

Silence on the other end of the line. What MB didn’t say was: “OR we could sue you.”

Finally, in typical greedy fashion, LCP blurted, “So I just get NOTHING???”

(Well, dude, you get the over $200,000 paid to you over the last three years. Also, you get: NOT BEING SUED for a lot more money than the original debt. You know, if that’s worth anything to you.)

MB just evaded, saying, “Well, I’ve consulted several people about this business transfer and I think this will work best.”

Silence.

Silence.

Then ….. all of a sudden …. LCP …. agreed. He agreed. One of the greediest, most despicable men we’ve ever known actually agreed.

But then, just seconds later, he whined, “Well, that money you fronted the business, you just took it right out again.”

(We did not. And we have proof.)

MB just said, chuckling, like speaking to a child: “Oh, LCP. I guess we could have this conversation til the end of time.”

Silence again. No comeback to that.

I am so proud of him. He didn’t take any of LCP’s bait. He didn’t go into any extraneous conversation with him. He just stayed steady and mostly silent and deftly sidestepped the landmines.

And he won. It actually happened. After all this time.

To all Beanhouse kooks and beyond …..

— First, on word usage: The word is “evidently” not “evitably.”

— It’s really not necessary to compliment your Certified Barista on using a “25-cent” word like “empirically.” She actually appraises it at much less. Frankly, she appraises you at much less, too, Captain Condescendo.

— It’s also not necessary to compliment your Certified Barista by telling her that she looks like Paul McCartney or Bonnie Raitt or tired. Really.

— For the love of GOD, do NOT get all snippy with her after she’s refilled your two iced coffees — touched your precious plastic cups — by saying, “Well, which cup is WHICH? My friend out there has a herpes sore on his lip and I need to know which is WHICH!!” Do not expect an answer in the face of such unspeakable horror. Do not even bring your horrible little Herpes Cup anywhere near her. She will sob and have night terrors. Your herpes is your problem. You are god-awful gross and horrid.

— Giant red rouge circles? If you’re a clown, yes. If you’re a human, no. Please do not stand anywhere near your Certified Barista sporting this look. She will sob and have night terrors.

— Also, don’t flounce up to your Certified Barista after she’s made you the perfect cappuccino with the most gorgeous foam rolling your eyes and demanding, “Uhm, so do I get a LID??” when they are FIVE feet behind you on the condiment stand if you’d bother to look around. Please go to hell — no, better yet, Starbucks. That’s worse.

— Additionally, please don’t purchase your $1.50 cup of coffee with a $100 bill and then insist you’ve been short-changed and then insist it be counted — three times — until you finally see that, yes, that’s 98.50 in your crisp little pile. And by all means, please DON’T leave any teensy bit of that wad of cash as a tip for anyone. I mean, don’t put yourself out or anything. Evitably, you have more important things to do.

— And to Cross-Dressing Christine: Hon, you have some serious cankles. Those dresses just aren’t working for you. How ’bout some nice long slacks and a pretty pair of pumps?

— And just generally, world, the phrase is “thank you,” not “unhhuhnnnh.”

Unhhhuhhhnnhh for listening.

Beanhouse Jack gave these to me today. Newly restored arthouse theatre. Huge screen. Behind the scenes extras. He is such a sweetheart.

I am SO excited!

This is all over the news in my neck of the woods.

Literally, a few miles from where I live and work. It’s freaking me out. Pure, random evil.