Safe Sex and Walmart Breakdowns

I stared at it.

A small, yellow squeaky toy shaped like a dog.

I felt myself being drawn to it and then my tiny T-rex-like hands curled around the middle of the balloon animal and - squeeze.

SQUUUUEEEAK!

"HAHAHAHAH!" I propped my forehead on the germ-encrusted buggy and hunched over, laughing loudly and drooling for good measure.

I dared another squeeze.

SQUEEE-EEAK!

"OH WHY IS THIS SO FUNNY?" I yelled to the small dog toy still in my hand and then burst into horrible, hornking laughter again.

I knew that I wasn't going to make it.

This stupid little dollar toy was going to make me lose my shit.

In Wal-mart.

I had to find help.

Or a bathroom.

My sister, Summer, was two aisles away, apparently oblivious to my squeaky-toy showdown in the middle of the electronics department. And who the EFF puts a dog toy display in with the cd's anyway? I mean, I could sue for mental duress or something.

I saw her standing next to an employee and contemplating between buying pens or pencils or arsenic - I don't know - I didn't care. I meandered toward her, forehead still on the buggy, dragging my legs behind me, clutching the damn squeaky toy and laughing until my eyelids burned and I snotted slightly on myself.

"Hey - what do you - well Holly! What the-?" she stared at me with a smile but also a bit of concern as I thrust the dog toy toward her perpetually pretty nose.

"Dog toy! It SQUEAKS! Dog! Balloon! Sex commercial! Balloons!AHAHAHAH!" I doubled over in the floor and continued to guffaw and wheeze until I was sure I was as done as my Clinique mascara was now on my nose.

"Why is this funny? What commercial? Sex what?" she asked and goddammit if she didn't squeeze the little fucker and make me keel over again.

Later, when I could breathe again and had thoroughly hand-santized my forehead, I explained about seeing a Durex commercial where balloon animals were "doing it," and it was so funny.

"Okay," she said, doubt radiating from her eyes. But that didn't stop her from squeezing the thing at various times trying to get me to wet myself from laughing so hard at a dog toy.

That stupid balloon animal dog toy almost cost me my dignity.

And it did cost me 99 cents.

Fat as a Fiddle

"Oh, Holly," my young niece said to me softly as she hugged me and then gently patted my belly. "You look as fat as when you were pregnant."

Ahhhh- to be young and have no need for filters....

Let Them Eat - Pie

I found a wonderful recipe that uses up my leftover apples and bananas - which were plentiful.
I have this obsession with buying tons of fresh fruit - and then not eating it.
So it's more of a quirk.
Or a tic.
Or - okay FINE- im just weird. Anyhooo all I did was roughly peel and chop a few apples and a couple bananas, soak em in lemon juice for about ten minutes and then plop the mix in a store bought crust. Add a simple crum mixture and -voila - PIE!

I've yet to taste it but - if all this goes well I have some strawberries and pineapple that may end up in my oven too!

:)

First Mobile Post!

I just downloaded the new Blogger App - so here's hoping it actually works.
And - a picture of me and the kid eating Frozen Yogurt:

Romantic, uh, Nudges

I took off my shirt and stood by the bed, smiling at my husband who just returned from a hard week's work in North Carolina.

"Hi," I said, coyly.

"Whooooo," he drew a sharp intake of breath and I just knew, KNEW, that we were gonna wake the neighbors with a fiesty frolick of epic proportations.

"Wow," he continued. "We really need to buy you some new bras."

Yup.

That's how romance DIED at the Shivel household.

Walky and TALKY!

I went to the grocery store today - alone.

The kid was with the baby-sitter (whom I adore as she always says he's a wonderful, well-behaved child when I KNOW he has been one step below Chuckie or Macauly Culkin in the "Good Son") so I had time to actually peruse the shelves, drool over the fresh produce and squeal over the reduced-for-quick-sale baby brie.

Unfortunately, in my happy-stupor, I found that I was also --- talking to myself. A lot.

A LOT lot.

"Oh I forgot HOT DOGS!" I said loudly, scaring a lovely couple who were shopping for skinless chicken breasts in their matching polos and spike crew cuts.

"BUNS!" I screeched in Aisle 8.

"CRACKERS and HONEY!"

I could've been announcing a porn line-up for all these people knew. Or NBC Fall sitcoms.

It wasn't until the 6'6" grizzly man with the long beard, tiny grocery cart (nope - not really - he was just THAT big) looked at me like I was insane and purposely steered down the feminine hygiene aisle just to avoid my path that I knew - I was really gonna have to shut the hell up.

Or milk it.

I mean - really - if I keep up the muttering to myself and keep up with the random word shouting - I'm pretty sure I would never have to worry about being stuck behind the mom with six kids hanging off of the cart, or the old-lady aisle-blocking the canned beets, or the crunchy hippies hovering over the organic squash - they'd run from me. They'd be terrified of me.

Like the cat lady on "The Simpsons."

But with better hair.

Sometimes.

:)

That's it.

That's my new lease in life.

Sure - I tried being "Harry 4's mom" for a bit and while it is WONDERFUL - I just may have to take "Crazy Cat Lady" for a stroll - at least once a week.

Or more if I have good coupons.

Fear me, crunchy hippies, FEAR ME , as I will get the best Butternut. Oh yes. I will.

"BUTT-ER-NUTTTT!"

The Easter Parade

'Twas the night before Easter,

And all through the state,

Not a creature was stirring,

'cept in Wal-mart's case.

The aisles were filled with late-night shoppers,

mothers of twelve, baby-carriage hoppers,

and then there was me, Stacey and Sis,

Who didn't want to be there,

But there none-the-less.

For Sis in her Hover'round and me all sweaty,

dragged poor Stacey there, and she wasn't ready

for the action, the drama, the clean-up in aisle three,

the hectic relations between crippled sis and me.

For when we checked out, all gripping our treasures,

My sis revved her engine, and sped up for good measure.

Knocking me flying right in to poor Stacey who couldn't be faulted,

for it was Summer, in the chair, who sent me catapulted.

The Bunny, he came, and left us all goodies,

Even Summer, the meanie, in her handicapped duties,

was given a reprieve and sent on her way,

All was forgiven, On Easter's Sweet Day.