Steph, the guestest with the mostest.

So, Queen Bee asked me to guest post. Totally flattering and amazing and awesome because she’s actually read my blog so she kind of knew she would get something that might suspiciously resemble a big, steaming pile of gnu* crap. She also knew that I would probably forget myself and cuss my little heart out because I sometimes just drop the F bomb for no apparent reason, and she’s okay with that which is why I’m going to try really, really fuc…frickin’ hard not to cuss. I don’t want her to be disappointed in me. Because me and Queen Bee? We’re, like, soul sisters. I mean, amazingly similar. Except I’m over ten years older than she is, and I have three rugrats, and I’m a SAHM, and I don’t live anywhere near the Rocky Mountains. Okay, so mostly it’s just that she’s Queen Bee, and I’m Quirky Blogger, and that makes our initials the same. But I think that should totally count toward the whole “soul sister” thing, don’t you?

Oh, God. I’m babbling. On someone else’s blog. I promised myself I would not fucking do this, but I swear, it’s like I have some kind of weird version of Tourette’s, except instead of throwing out random cuss words or having nervous tics, I just babble mindlessly…except the part about throwing out random cuss words, because I totally do that, but it’s not Tourette’s, it’s just that I have a foul mouth. And shit, I said the F word. And now I said the S word. Someone stop me already.

MOVING ON, I have a point. I’m nearly certain. Oh, right. I was going to talk about something wonderful and fabulous like shoes, but then I got all distracted by my own nutbar thoughts, and now I’m watching Angel and hello? Who can concentrate when Angel is on? Not me, that’s for sure. But let’s be real about it, I can’t concentrate when the Six Week Body Makeover infomercial is on because I’m all about shiny and distracting crap on TV. Anyway, can I just say that Charisma Carpenter‘s hair in the first coupla seasons of Angel was frickin’ awesome? I want my hair just like that…except I have this baby fine, wispy garbage that will never, ever look like that. And thus, another dream crushed by genetics. Which is way different than the many dreams crushed by Dianetics, but probably I should save that particular rant for another time.

I’m going to stop now before you unsubscribe from Queen Bee’s blog to avoid ever having to read anything like this ever again. You should totally stay subscribed since she’s effin’ rad and well worth your time and nowhere near as ADD as me, I promise. Besides, after this, she’ll never ask me to guest post again, so you’re safe.

*I’ve always wanted to work the word “gnu” into a blog entry, and I finally met my goal…on SOMEONE ELSE’S BLOG. Shit.

My Great Find for this Friday is a delicious snack treat that I found while scanning the aisles at Cost Plus World Market. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but I love that store. It’s like a more complicated, less expensive Pier One. Plus they have a great wine selection. They also have a fab exotic foods selection that occasionally has inexpensive snack options. I found these:

They are like chips in the shape of pretzel sticks. They of course have 0 grams of transfat, but they also have 30% less fat than potato chips and real vegetable puree parts. They are yummy! You can buy some off of amazon too, if you can’t find them where you live.

The Bee is going Roaming again

Well, I’m off to Sisters, Oregon for a wedding. I have enlisted two of my many favorite blogger Doogs to guest post for me. Don’t worry, we still have a Great Find coming tomorrow, but this weekend I have two great writers guest posting.

We’ll have the silly and sassy Steph from The Stephford Diaries on Monday and the strickly for public consumption Mommypie on Tuesday!

Stay tuned!

Brother Bee Goes to College

Honestly, a lot like Ernest Goes to College, if they ever made one. Or Animal House…dorm room version. With crazy mothers.

I took a break from my work day (which was really lazy busy) to help my parents move my baby, I mean wickedly* awesome, brother into his first year of college. It’s going to be a doozy. Especially if the hour I spent there is any indication. I know he’ll do swell in the dorms with JGBee, his roommate, and it will be frickin’ awesome having him here, that is if he survives the next 5 hours.

I got there just in time for all of his stuff to be moved up to the 4th floor. Trust me, this is nothing. I lived on the 11th floor in the same dorm. NIGHTMARE. However, there are many times that I feel like there are too many chefs in the kitchen. This was one of them. 2 anxious, nervous college students, 2 “let’s get this the hell over with” dads and 2 great, but controlling, nervous, soon-to-be empty nester moms taking control of everything. And I mean everything. From where to put the stuff outside of the room until it’s ready to how to cut the carpet to make it fit in the room.

Now, I must digress here. I know you’re saying either 1) “Wait, CARPET? That’s AWESOME! All we had were gross linoleum floors;” or 2) “Wait, you had to put the carpet in yourselves???” The truth is both, yes, they HAD the great linoleum flooring and yes, we did have to put the carpet in ourselves. That’s because wicked* cool QB sister bought them carpet to pimp out their rooms. Other kids might have small rugs to cover the floor, but this kid has wall-to-wall carpet! In the stylin’ puke gold color that was all too popular in the 70’s. Matches the Banana chair.

So yes, as the mothers had a huddle to decide how to lay the carpet, Brother Bee and I had to get out of the room to go buy his books. This is quite a complicated process that one MUST have an older sister, or classmate to help with or else you’re lost. After I had figured out the system my first year, I helped at least a dozen people on my floor buy their books. Take your class schedule, find the department, find the course number, find the section number, find the books, find USED books, rinse and repeat. Or you get lice. Book lice. $456 later, we were back in the dorm room. I had seriously forgotten how small they actually were.

But, Brother Bee will make it. As long as he doesn’t have a key to my house. Then I might be in trouble. Big trouble. For instance this is the conversation that followed after my mother showed Brother Bee his new laundry detergent:

Brother Bee: Why do I need laundry detergent?

MB: Um, to wash your clothes with.

BB: But, Queen Bee has laundry detergent. She’ll just use hers to do my laundry.

See? Apparently I’m his mother now. Not to mention that JGBee thinks that my gift to humanity is the ability to buy them beer. Cheap beer. We’ve got a long 2 years ahead of us. Maybe he won’t survive the next year. At least he didn’t insist on bringing the pingpong table down for “ping pong,” wink, wink.

TV…An American Pasttime

I feel totally overwhelmed by the amount of things on TV that I feel that I should be watching. I just spent 2 weeks staying up waaayy past my bedtime to watch the Olympics. Not that I mind watching every stroke of Michael Phelp’s swims our Olympic team do well, but it was a lot of TV. Now, the Democratic Convention is on and I really feel like I should be watching it. But, come on! Another three days of American patriotism on TV. I just don’t think I can take it. Strike that. It’s not the patriotism I can’t take, it’s the constant TV watching, the talking heads or just Bob Costa’s voice over and over and over. I used to watch quite a bit of TV, back when Friends and Lost and Pushing Daisies were all still on, back before the writer’s strike, but now I don’t. It’s taken a toll on my home life. Things like doing the laundry. That I never did anyway, because of Netflix.

So, I settled in for another three days of TV watching because it was the right thing to do. In this historical time in our country’s history, who doesn’t want to be involved or at least educated? But just to complain, I’m tired of watching TV because I feel like I should. Luckily, the new version of 90210 is coming on soon, so won’t be compelled to watch TV until whenever that show gets canceled ends.

In the mean time, after watching parts of the Convention, I can’t get Mommypie’s song out of my head. “Mama to Obama….baby needs a new PAIR of SHOOOESS.” No I’m not putting that on YouTube so you can hear the tune in my head. But, I will tell you there are pink haired punk rock women on gee-tars and Michelle Obama is playing the drums.

Thanks to Standing Still for her kick-ass description of women in the presidency. Makes me all too happy to spend my evening watching strong women take the lead on today’s toughest issues.

The Hair in My Tea

I’m having problems. It seems like I am blogging about what’s wrong in my life, when really, not that much is going wrong. I stress that last week’s rant was over-emphasized thanks to a stronger-than-normal dose of PMS (HubbyBee, you’re welcome this happened at work). But here’s an example of something that isn’t working out:

There’s a hair in my iced tea. I knew better than to take the last glass from the pitcher. I told myself that it would be ok, but it’s not. I have two gulps left and I crossed my eyes to look into the glass, and what did I see? A Hair. In my iced tea. I almost vomited. In fact, I’m sitting here staring at the glass wondering what my next approach should be. I fell like sticking my finger down my throat and intentionally causing myself to gag. Except that vomiting has never been one of my favorite things.

So, I think I’ll just go dump it out in the sink and forget this ever happened.

To steal a phrase…

…from Steph. I want to spork my eyes out. Just because I think that would be more fun that going to work everyday. I’m having a bad month at work. I’m tired of the bullshit. I’m tired of the hypocracy. I’m tired of being underpaid and overworked. I need to fight. for the right. to PPPAAARRRTTTAAAAYYY. I’m tired of working BY MYSELF on Fridays. I’m tired of people thinking I’m their lackey. I’m tired of being looked down upon because I’m friends with a couple of my coworkers. I think I’m getting an ulcer. Well, probably not, but I’ll have to ask Mommypie’s boyfriend about that one. I hate that I have something right down the road…just around the bend that I can’t get to yet. And I’m mad at a certain someone(s) for making the economy go to shit, and that being the ultimate reason I can’t quit my job. Because someone can do my job and someone will do my job if I leave.

So, I have zero motivation, people annoy the living hell out of me on a regular basis, and if I could spray paint a particular person’s car without repercussions, I totally would. Just to be like that. I’m struggling to see why I have to work in conditions like that. Yeah, Yeah, I sit in an airconditioned office and blog about 30% of the day away…but really? I’d rather get fired doing that than photocopying something because apparently their fingers and legs are broken.

I’ll just sit here and spork my eyes out. I have a root canal at 3 o’clock today. I’m looking forward to that.

Brownies a l’Orange

This Friday’s Great Find has nothing to do with a l’Orange. I’m just that way. I love the sound of Duck a l’Orange, but Duck doesn’t go with Brownies, so it becomes just Brownies a l’Orange. Nevermind.

Today’s Great Find is my kiss-arse Brownie recipe. Beware! Contains muchos butter.

Ingredients:
1 cup butter

1/2 stick of butter

3/4 cup Cocoa

2 cups Sugar

2 teaspoons Vanilla

4 Eggs

1.5 cups Flour

Preheat oven to 350. Grease a 9×13 pan. In a saucepan, melt ALL butter and cocoa, stirring together. Once combined and butter is melted, take off heat. Add sugar and vanilla while slightly cooling. Stir in eggs one at a time. Add flour and combine. Pour in pan.

Bake for 25 minutes.

YUM. I had one for breakfast this morning.

Join me for a murder…

You’re all cordially invited to your own demise.

Someone in the below list is a murderer, and I’m throwing a dinner party with the suspects. If you’re on the list, you’re coming to dinner, because you’re a murderer, or you had something to do with the murder. Who was killed, you ask? Ummm, wait, I have it here somewhere…ah, here it is:

…the dark and mysterious Albert Packinheat.

I see you’re intrigued. Or maybe it’s that you’re the KILLER! You all must come pressed and dressed to my speakeasy at 502 Broadway St. I, Charlotte Slinger, have a list of clues and a big stack of evidence which will lead us to the killer. We will reveal the murderer when the clock strikes 10pm, or when we’re so schnokered we can’t remember why we’re all suspects in the first place. I hope no one’s afraid of a little danger fun, this is the prohibition era, after all. Now this part is important. Speak to NO ONE about this…if the cops find out we’re solving this case on our own, NO ONE will get witness protection, and we’ll all go to jail. Not to mention the 20 barrels of Firewater I have in my cellar.

My Guests and your fellow suspects:

Sally Flaphappy– the young hip night owl who knows not bounds with dress or gentlemen callers, including Packinheat, Jr. Though she knows Jr’s heart belongs to someone else, Sally can’t stand sharing this Zootsuit basement hero…unless there’s better meat on the table for the night.

Wendy Stormyeyes– the deeply intellegent, and mysterious Ms. Stormyeyes. She frequently disappears for days to her “hometown.” Conveniently, this happens to be the hometown of Mr. Packinheat, himself.

Carla Jazz– Known for her love of jazz music and the eclectic scene that surrounds it, Carla loves to entertain her guests by inviting some of the biggest names of the Jazz scene to her home. She has even be known to invite the likes of me, Charlotte Slinger over for a set or two. Carla’s charm exceeds expectations and together with her best gal pal, Ms. Elvira, dinner parties and jazz sets are taken to new limits, as long as Elvira’s uncle, Al Packinheat is never around. He’s such a mood-killer.

Martha Medelsome– Always chatting up her neighbors, this thin, elegant woman resembles Auntie Mame and runs the city’s rumor mill. However, rumor has it that Martha has some long standing grudges with the Packinheat family.

Lucy Smalls-elusive, yet strikingly beautiful. Lucy is the catch waiting to be caught. But does her family connection to Al Packinheat have anything to do with the countless rejected offers of marriage to Al Packinheat’s son, Jr.?

Savanna Sahara-Always with a far off look in her eye, and her ready to travel fatigues, Savanna is a child of the south, but a daughter of the deep African jungle. She moved here from Zimbabwe with her British father at the age of 13. This was about the time that her father came into contact with Al Packinheat, and made him an offer he couldn’t live without taking.

Anna Canthandler-If there’s one woman in this whole city that will stand up to men, it’s Anna. She’s brazen, she’s tough, and she’s got money to spread around. But not in THAT way. Anna was the woman Al Packinheat pushed aside, but she rebounded and how she’s the one with the edge. Famous for her underground tavern and Mother’s Moonshine, Anna has a lot of good connections.

Darling Danger-The self-willed daughter of Al Packinheat, Darling is named after her mother who was a beautiful, whispy woman. Unfortunately, she caught Island Feva (presumably from Sally Flaphappy) and hasn’t been seen for 9 years. Darling was gifted all of her mother’s looks, but none of her wonderful personality, that is all from dad. Darling is set to inherit the Packinheat fortune, provided Jr. doesn’t get in the way, just as soon has daddy relinquished control.

Alright ladies, now you know who you’re in company with. You all hold the keys to the murder of Al Packinheat. If you have clues, come forward now and stake your claim. Accuse who you may. If you have clues that lead to other suspects, not on my list, bring them forward.

Dinner will be served by my manservant at 7:30 sharp. Please don’t shove as you work your way up to the cocktail cart.

Problems with WordPress

Ok, so I screwed up. Not only did I post Great Find Friday on THURSDAY, but I did it incomplete. WOW. Alright, sorry, I had to remove it so that I can write another wickedly awesome post while you all wait for my brownie recipe. Check back tomorrow!

Thanks to Steph for figuring it out!