Remember forever ago when we discovered that I was a fashionista at an early age?  Apparently, I passed this trait down to my little brother Carl.  Case in point:

Carl is on the left, in case you couldn't tell who I am making fun of

Let’s take a closer look, shall we?

Ahh, yes.

 I can’t even find the words.  That shirt came from Goodwill and was my older brother’s long before it was his.  Those shorts, they’re not shorts, they’re swimming trunks.  And, the shirt is TUCKED into them.  Carl tucked in everything, even his pajama shirts.  But what I can’t get over is the fanny pack.  The HOT PINK FANNY PACK!  Oh, man, I’m going to get something good from this blackmail photo!

Edit:  I just found this picture of Dominic wearing the same shirt:

Hoo-rah for hand-me-downs!

 And, before you say anything, yes, we did go have our picture tken with the Piggly Wiggly Pig like he was freakin’ Santa Claus.  That’s just how white trash we were. 

So, y’all remember when I used to post on this blog?  I know, it’s been a while.  I just feel like there’s nothing to say.  No, I never called that irish Scottish guy.  Or actually he never called me back.  So, that makes me feel great.  Not that anything would’ve happened, it just makes me wonder what it was all about. 

There’s been tons of family drama over my grandparents’ stuff.  Stuff that means something to us, and means dollar signs to others.  Others who were never around.  Other’s whose wife started going through their stuff the day after my grandmother died.  The same wife who couldn’t stand to be in the same room with them for more than 20 minutes now thinks she’s entitled to antique furniture and silver.  The same wife that got mad and told me I had no right to ask for my grandmother’s wedding rings.  The same wife who I want to freakin’ punch in the throat.  My brothers want to video tape it.  They say it’ll be the next youtube sensation.  Young girl knocks out old bitch. 

But that’s OK, I got the rings, and the dress.  

that stone was my great grandmother's

 

can you tell they got married in 1950?

 

The last time I tried on that dress, I was 14.  I had forgotten that I needed help getting it off.  For a minute, I thought I was going to be stuck in a wedding dress all day.  I pulled a muscle in my neck trying to get it off.  So, there will be alterations.  Stones will need to be set, but they’re mine.  Oh, did I mention that we set a date?  11 June 2011.  Yeah, I  know.  I’m a little freaked out, too.

So, I got a message from this guy on facebook telling me that this other guy wants to talk to me.  This other guy and I went out on one date nine years ago.  I had a huge crush on him.  He was young, and hot and Irish Scottish foreign.  Insert sexy accent factor here.  We had one date.  I was 20.  We went our separate ways.  He met some girl, she had his baby, they went to Ireland or Scotland, I can never keep them straight.  Probably one of the reasons we never had a second date. 

Then, about a year ago, I saw him, at the grocery store.  We caught up as much as you can in the checkout lane.  I told him to find me on myspace, blah, blah, blah.  Now, the guy from facebook is telling me that the other guy is going back to Ireland, or Scotland, or wherever, and wants to talk to me before he leaves.  This is weird, right?  Why do I feel like he’s gonna tell me he’s pregnant with my baby or something?  It’s really weirding me out.  Do I call this guy?  What do I say?  It’s not like we were ever close.  Why does he want to talk to me?  Seriously, do I call this guy?

p.s.  It’s Scotland, I just checked my message and it’s titled Scottish so-and-so is leaving and wants to talk to you.  I’ll just call him that, then maybe I can remember to not call him Irish.

Totally forgot this yesterday.  Thank you thank you thank you.  Charmed and Dangerous gave me an award.  Apparently I’m an awesome KY blogger.   This is not the first award she’s given me, she thinks I’m kreativ, too.  Kreativ with a “K” and no “E”, so you know it’s special. 

So, thank you, and this time, I’m charmed.

Nate got super sick.  We had his first trip to the ER.  He didn’t talk for almost a week because his mouth and throat hurt so bad.  Now that he’s feeling better, I can’t get the kid to shut up!  Full sentences people.  FULL sentences.  Like, “Mama Daddy not nice.”  Shut up, it doesn’t matter what the sentence is about, as long it’s a sentence.  In our defense, we had just put drops in his ears, so…

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I think I jumped the gun on the whole white trash Christmas thing.  He’s put out more decorations.  Taken over his neighbor’s yard.   And, I can’t find the muppet chef.  I think I’ll have to do a second edition.  Would y’all like that?  OR does it just prove that I have absolutely jack and shit to talk about?

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What the crap happened to Sesame street?  Seriously, man?  It’s now 20 minutes of Elmo’s world, and freakin’ Abby Cadabby cartoons, claymation Bert and Ernie, and Baby Bear, who seriously needs to be punched.  Right in the throat.  Maybe then he’d be able to pronounce his R’s and L’s.  And where the slank is the Count?  Or Oscar?  I love how Google put them on the title thingies, but they’re never on the freakin’ show.  Whatever, still better than Barney, right?

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   My birthday was last month.  It still hasn’t even sunk in that I’m 29 24.  I wanted to do something special and have people guest post, but ya know, thing got a little crazy.  Anyone wanna do a belated guest post about how special and wonderful and funny and young I am?

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My house is a freaking mess.  I was cleaning up yesterday and my birthday card from my grandma.  It stopped me dead in my tracks and I had to sit down and look at it.  I am so not looking forward to Thanksgiving and Christmas without them. 

It’s that time again.  The air is crisp, the leaves are turning.  We just put away Halloween costumes.  Oh, yeah, it’s time again for Caroline’s neighbors decorate waaaaaaaaay too early.  (Yo, this should totally make up for that crappy tiny picture I took with my phone.  Consider that a preview).  So, I have figured out that no matter what setting, my little Kodak just does not take good pictures in the dark without a blinding flash.  So, I planned it out this time.  Every night, about an hour before sunset, he comes out and starts the fans (oh, yes, these get inflated, and then deflated every night).  He walks around, repositioning them, holding up the more intricate ones so they don’t get tangled, and standing on the sidewalk surveying his masterpiece.  Then, he goes inside.  Then, it’s too dark and I can’t get the pic.  Last night, I said screw slank it.  He’s asking for attention, he can’t get mad if I take a picture.

No, that's not a flash you saw.

 What I didn’t know, was that he was there, all hidden in that mess.  I saw him jerk his head in my direction.  I turned around and looked the other way.  Crap.  His wife and daughter came out and they talked for a minute.  Then they all three walked down their driveway.  I was going over my defense in my head, when they turned the other way and walked down the street.

My chance!  My golden opportunity.  Man, are y’all gonna love this.  Now first, pretend you hear Christmas music.  Nice, cheesy Christmas music…

it gets better every year

 I’ve cropped it, so we can take a closer look.  

 Just let the classiness soak in.  And, I’m spent.

Philip:  Did you know that the Snuggie is a knock-off?

Me:  There was another one?

“Yeah, the Slanket was first.  It just didn’t take off like the Snuggie.”

“Maybe it’s the name.  Slanket.  That sounds dirty.  Like, ‘hey, you wanna slank?’”

“Yeah, slank you.”

“Ohhh!  That’s what I’ll do to stop saying fuck in front of Nate!  I’ll just say slank!” 

aside:  If only they had come up with a better name, or a catchy rhyme like the guys over at Snuggie.  Oh, and didnt charge like three times as much.  They have four different styles, and way more colors.  I totally want the Walk the slank pattern. 

Awesome.  I totally know what I’m gonna say when Philip tells me to slank off.

The day before my grandmother’s funeral, Nate and I went to Natural Bridge with my family.  In KY, you get about 3 weeks of gorgeous fall scenery before everything goes bare and grey.  We got in on the tail end, and it was awesome.

Nate and Granddad

 P.S.  I swear I have a real post coming.  I promise.

Whatever, this totally makes up for all the crappy posts I’ve given you in the past month. 

He’s adorable, right?  I know, and I’m super modest about it, too.

All week, she kept saying it, “It wont be long, Bill.  I’m right behind you.”  I figured we’d at least get Thanksgiving.  My grandmother died Friday morning.  Six days.  That’s all we got.  Her funeral will be a week after his.  She just could not live with out him.  I don’t even know how to handle it.  I’m doing better than I was last week.