Rules for shopping.

I try really, REALLY hard not to lose my shit in crowds, specifically grocery store crowds.  More specifically, WalMart crowds. Therefore, I submit the following rules.

  1. Have a list, a plan, an idea of WHAT you are needing at WalMart.  Learn from my experience, if you go in without any of the aforementioned items…you will spend the house pay, car payment and quite possibly the children’s college fund on items you absolutely don’t need.  Ever.
  2. KNOW THE FLOOR PLAN.  You will save yourself and those around you if you know where you are going and you will not find yourself spinning in circles on the dog food aisle because you forgot light bulbs across the store. Not that this has happened to me.
  3. Have an escape plan.   For real. The stuff you need will always be at the back of the store.  Be ready to take shortcuts and corners quickly to maintain your sanity.
  4. If you have Xanax, take one.  If not, find a friend…that has some, borrow it.
  5. Have bail money and a friends phone number memorized, just in case.
  6. Understand the RIGHT OF WAY. This isn’t Europe, it’s f*cking WalMart…damn.
  7. Don’t be a dick, allow people to merge.  I promise, I am not trying to get the last can of pumpkin pie filling, you can act like a human…
  8. If you have two or more children and another adult in the household, DON’T bring the entire family to the grocery store.  Leave the 3.4 children, the grandmother, aunt, husband, cousin and great-Uncle at the house.  Take them to the park for a family outing.  Not the store.
  9. Don’t smell test all the body spray.  Well, maybe you, you smell a bit musty…it may be helpful.
  10. Put your cart up. Do not watch me attempt to pull into a spot only to cockblock me by putting your cart at the end of said parking spot. Because I hate you.

Let’s try to work together, mmmmkay?

Happy Thanksgiving…fa lala lala

Bossman Rules.

Let it be known I work hard.  Shut.up.  I DO!!!  But I love where I work.  I enjoy the people around me, most of the time and I think they actually like me.  Most don’t fear me, a few ignore me, but over all….they seem to not think I am hideous.  It helps that I pay them bi-weekly, but I am sure it’s my sparkling personality that wins them over.  Yeah, that’s IT.

Bossman is a whole ‘nother story.  We share a birthday, I am exactly three years older than him, a fact he loves to point out every year on our shared birthday.   To remind him that I am truly twisted, I had my staff help me torture him for his birthday, it included bubble wrap as carpet and 160 photos of him as a child.  EVERYWHERE.  I may be older, but that only means I have three more years of experience torturing younger people…he prolly needs a helmet.

Bossman tries to make rules.  Tries to.  But I’m a rebel (Dottie) and I spend my days talking back, ignoring his emails and calls and generally doing what I want.  Don’t get me wrong, I work my ass off, but I can multitask like a demon.

I am going to share with you Bossman’s rules for me.  He has explained these to me many times over the past three years…then I will give you my simple, clear responses to his rules…

  1. Please be at work at 7:30.
  2. Please stay at work until 5:00.
  3. Please be at work Monday – Friday.
  4. Please make sure you complete the Playbook daily.
  5. Be pleasant and courteous.
  6. Complete your tasks daily.
  7. All filing is kept current.
  8. Manage your staff competently.
  9. Answer when I call, respond to my emails.
  10. Don’t be mean to me.

Now, most folks would think these are simply easy rules to follow.  Not me.  In an effort to make him understand I am a rebel (Dottie), I feel I must respond to his requests.

  1. No.  I don’t get out of bed until 8….minimum.
  2. No.  5:00 means happy hour….unless you put a bar in my office, I am out.
  3. Specify which week you wish for me to work.  Otherwise, no.
  4. Playbook?  is this the craft time?
  5.  You might as well ask for the moon and stars.
  6. Are my tasks recess and naps?  Cause I got that down…
  7. Haven’t filed a single thing in three years.  I am working toward the World Record.  Don’t box me in Bossman.
  8. My staff?  They scare me.  I don’t make eye contact, I suggest you don’t either.
  9. I haven’t, I won’t.  Send carrier pigeons, that would be cool.
  10. Why did you hire me then?

In his defense, I was on my best behavior in my interview.  Truly.  I even said “Yes Sir”….and I lulled him in with a false sense of security.  He thought he could control me.  I allowed him to believe that I could be trained.  I tricked him.  bwahahahahaha!!!!

Today was prolly the easiest Payroll Friday I have had in six months.  And I wasn’t able to justify a surly disposition.  Damnit.  SO I had to be nice.  To everyone.  It wasn’t quite as painful as I imagined.

I did however remind Bossman that I am the boss…just in case he forgot….

Rules of Summer Living.

It’s that time of year…summer.  Kids wait for it all year, parents count the days until the next school year starts…so, in quiet sister/brotherhood of all parents, I submit the following rules…

(1) Yes, you can stay home.  By yourself.  No, I can’t take the summer off.  I have to work, sorta, to pay for your summer entertainment.  You will need to appreciate this time in your life….when you grow up, you too, will have to work…buckle up.

(2) No, I cannot create magnificent dishes for you to enjoy while I am working.  There is Nutella and Mac & Cheese….feel free to enjoy both.

(3) Yes, you will have chores.

(4) Yes, I understand you are on vacation….let’s consider this a “stay-cation” and pick up your room.  If I find anything on the floor, I will hold it hostage until the school year starts.

(5) No, 7:00 AM is not a bedtime.

(6) Yes, you will have a curfew.  And chores, did I mention chores?

(7) If you use every single towel in one afternoon of pool fun, you will wash, dry and fold said towels before midnight.  And suffer the wrath of Mommy Who Does the Laundry.

(8) Do not call Mommy allllllll day long at work.  I have a job, you are eating Nutella….shut up and appreciate your childhood.

(9) Do not sit in front of your Xbox all day and when I walk through the door expect me to feed you immediately, see #8 and enjoy.

(10) Every once in a while, get up from said Xbox and stretch.  If you spend the summer hunched over a gaming console, you will look like the only freshman Quasimodo.  Go outside, get some fresh air.

(11) Putting the fan in front of the window does not constitute fresh air.

(12) You will need to do the following on a daily basis:
Brush you teeth.
Put on clean clothes.

(13)  I am sure, your horrible teachers will give you summer homework. It’s their summer “fun”.  We’re adults, we can do so… Suck it up, you will do this homework and read, so I do not have to send you to Pre-K before your freshmen year starts.  Nor will you wait until the night before school starts to cram it all in.

(14)  Do not EVER tell me you are bored.  You have Xbox, Wii, 800 cable channels, a pool, a bike, friends in the neighborhood and a park with a basketball court at the end of the street.  Telling me you are bored will get you more chores, such as cleaning baseboards and toilets.  Take your chances if you feel lucky.

(15) Have fun, stay safe.  We are proud of you….


Parents, I will pray for all of us this summer.  And it’s only 90 days or so until the next school year.  I am already planning a day off once school starts to recover, count.on.that!!!!



Gay 101.

So, a few years ago, I came out.  Seven years to be exact.  Do I think I was born gay?  Maybe.  I don’t know.  I do know however, I was born a girl.  I became “enlightened” later in life and honestly, I now wonder…what the hell took me so long???

Alas, not everyone is “enlightened” or further, even knowledgeable about the Gay Thing, so I am gonna give you a couple hints:

  1. If you are trying to be “cutting edge” or “trendy”….gay is not the way you should go.  This lifestyle isn’t “trendy”….it’s not easy.  You run the risk of friends and family cutting you off.  If you want “trendy or cutting edge,” go color your fucking hair…stay away from gay…
  2. My name is Stephanie.  Calling me dyke, lesbo, fag, muncher of any kind, scissor sister, U-Haul, lipstick, etc…will get you ignored.  I could care less what you call me.  You’re the idiot acting like a third grader….not me.
  3. I didn’t wake up one morning, look at the Respondent and decide to be gay.  Although, he did completely turn me off of men…the gay wasn’t his fault.
  4. No, I didn’t cut my hair when I got the gay….I cut the hair off in honor of two friends that lost loved ones and donated it to Locks of Love.  But I do hope you feel like a dick for asking.
  5. No, I prolly won’t grow it back out.  I actually get more compliments the shorter I go and have folks walk up and ASK to touch it.  Had a lady at Hobby Lobby go get her friend to show her my hair.  And another one trot across a parking lot to ask me how I did my hair, who cut it and was it my natural color….yep….this short shit is staying…
  6. I still wear makeup.
  7. And a bra.
  8. No, I don’t own a motorcycle….well, I sorta do…the wife has one and she is amazingly hot when she rides it…wowza!!!
  9. No, my wallet is not attached to a chain.
  10. I wear flip flops, almost exclusively, not work boots.
  11. I wear girly jewelry.  I love my diamonds.  Specifically, my mother-in-law’s ring that was given to me on our anniversary.
  12. Yup….legally married.  Got the certificate and last name to prove it.  Suck an egg if you don’t like it.
  13. Kids aren’t gay.  It’s not contagious and it’s not a special ingredient I can add to dinner….the kids are alright.
  14. We don’t eat babies and not all of us are looking for a sperm donor, so calm down.  And quit volunteering your swimmers.
  15. We don’t do virgin sacrifices…well, not on your first visit.
  16. I don’t want your wife, girlfriend, best friend….I have the best wife, I have the world’s best bestie and I am no longer allowed to have a girlfriend.
  17. No, you can’t convert me.  In fact, even the mere thought of you trying…actually makes me more gay.

Yes, I’m gay.  I can deal with it.  It’s not really my problem if you can’t.  No, I am not going to put it in your face, but I am damn sure not gonna hide it either.

It’s 2012.  When there are folks into some really freaky shit….quit worrying about me.  And specifically what I do behind closed doors.  That would be between me and one other person….MY WIFE.

you gots any other questions…hit the worldwideweb….it’s full of answers…

The rules of driving, Texas-style.

So, as most know, I am bossy.  I have rules that must be followed.  They aren’t hard; more common sense than anything, you know, like don’t walk and chew gum if you can’t multi-task….that kinda thing.

I guess it goes to show that there must also be rules for driving.  Seriously, am I the ONLY person that went to driver’s ed?  Did everyone else get their license outta the gumball machine?!?!??!!  Cause it’s not easy…

I submit, the Rules of Driving, Texas-Style:

  • It’s a car.  Therefore, when it hits something else, it will cause damage.  Think of it as a rolling battering ram.
  • First and foremost, folks, put the fucking cell phone down.  You should not be texting, facebooking, making reservations or cropping your latest profile picture behind the wheel of the car.  Especially while anywhere near me on any stretch of road.
  • Eating soup is not conducive to safe driving.
  • If a large black SUV is hauling ass up behind you, do not slow down to a crawl….I will pass you, give you stink eye and slow down in front of you.
  • Lady….there’s not enough makeup to help….and the lighting in the rearview mirror sucks….eyes on the road please.
  • It’s rain.  If you can’t drive on the dry roads, park the car on overcast days and take the bus.
  • Alternately, in the winter, there is this stuff on the road, called ice.  It’s frozen rain.  See above.
  • Hanging your shirt out the window is a really odd alternative to WASHING it.  I understand there are “degrees” of clean, but if your shirt smells THAT bad….buy some Tide and give it a shot.
  • Turn that shit down.  If  I wanted to hear you singing, I would buy your CD….oh, don’t have a recording contract….?  There’s probably a reason.
  • I can see you picking your nose.  That’s not a booger….that’s brain matter….stop when you feel resistance.
  • If you are gonna fight with your passenger or person on the phone, roll down the window, we all want to hear.
  • And dude….whatEVER you were doing….it looked WAY worse in my rearview mirror.  And if that is what you were doing….ewwww….get a room!

I do alot of driving nowadays….my commute is over 30 minutes.  Most of the time, I turn on Russ Martin and just drive….but I get lucky every now and then and get to see some truly weird shit…

  • The Nutter Butter car….which made me hungry.
  • Bozo the Clown driving a Volvo.  Awesome!
  • The wife’s ex-Beast’s twin sister, which almost caused me to wreck my car….but I realized this chick was skinnier…
  • The smallest woman ever to drive.  Seriously, she had to be sitting on three phone books….and it was a Rio….so cute!
  • An 18 wheeler decked out like Optimus Prime….paint job and chromed out….it was AWESOME!!! Had I not been going 75 mph….I would have taken a photo….that awesome.
  • The guy with the Jason mask hanging from his rearview mirror last Halloween….yup…even I changed lanes.

I am east bound and down…loaded up and trucking…

Should be Un-Necessary Rules.

Well, we have hit a new low.  It does seem however, that it’s become necessary.  Rules seem to make things so much easier.  So I submit, the Rules for Public Potty Breaks.

  1. It’s a public restroom.  Remember that.  With that being said…you need to treat folks coming and going with a bit of respect and a lot of modesty. 
  2. If your “cube” mate happens to break wind while pottying – you don’t have to “excuse” them, “bless” them or snicker.  It’s a private stall for a reason.  If you two were sharing a stall, then you could say something…otherwise, zip it.  Folks fart…sometimes, it’s like a pressure valve…necessary to relieve…not necessary to mock.
  3. If you are on your phone when you walk INTO the bathroom….GET OFF THE PHONE upon entering.  Not everyone on the other end of the phone needs to hear anything about what you or your neighbor are doing.  Plus the acoustics are off…
  4. If you are NOT on your phone, don’t answer it when it rings.  It’s awkward trying to explain what you are doing and again…your neighbor may have performance anxiety and you are disturbing their mojo.
  5. To the person in the stall…if someone starts speaking, don’t answer unless called by name and even then, it’s a, er, crapshoot…they may have answered the phone and then you look like a tool, talking to someone who isn’t talking back. 
  6. When you walk in alone, and you seen someone you may know…make eye contact, say hello and drop it.  If they are going into a stall as you are going out…say hello and drop it.  Do not engage in a conversation with this person.  There are phones, e-mail and other public places you may pick up where you left off.  If they have issues they are dealing with (i.e. the trots) or simply need to be quick, you are slowing them down…and they are not gonna be happy upon exiting.
  7. If you have small children – for the love of all things holy…teach them the following:
    (a) how to NOT lock themselves in the stall.  If they are not old enough to understand the essentials of public bathrooms…go with them!
    (b) if they do get themselves locked in, teach them not to panic.  And scream.  Please God, no screaming.
    (c) if they do lock themselves in, teach them to crawl out under THE DOOR.  not the stall next to them.
    (d) teach them to be quiet…as opposed to “Mommy, their potty stinks!” or “Mommy, they sure are taking a long time!” or “Mommy, are they going number two?”  yeah…none of this is fun for any of us.  And I can wait you out…(true story, this happened to a friend and she walked back in the office in tears.  I however, couldn’t stop laughing…yep…I am THAT friend.)
  8. Before you leave your stall…put your clothes back on.  Don’t walk out, buttoning, adjusting, tugging or pulling…you need a mirror?  just guess. 
  9. Don’t walk in to a full public restroom and begin knocking on the stall doors thinking you know who is in it.  You may not and when I walk out and give you stink eye…don’t hug me and apologize…or better yet…go ‘head…I haven’t washed my hands yet and now…they are on your back…you’re welcome.  dick….
  10. You would think that this one would not need to be written…when you are done…WASH YOUR HANDS.  Don’t just run your hands under the water.  Apply some soap and rub your palms together vigorously.  You aren’t made of sugar, you won’t melt.  It’s gross.  Just help us all out.

I am thinking that maybe, just maybe…if we all follow these rules…the world will be a better place…or at least you can have some peace and quiet. 

Lest you have a scene like this hoisted upon you…(not the Irish assassin…but the Tom Arnold-y type person!)

Play Fair.

Folks, there are rules.  I have spoken of these.  Rules for work attire.  Rules for dealing with the Quiet Quotient of Stephanie.  Rules of Open Toe Shoes.  Rules of Concert Going.  The world is a better place with rules. 

I have now formulated Rules of Attending the State Fair.

See…it was the season of State Fair.  And every year, we wait, with bated breath to see what the Next Big Fried Thing will be.  Will it be Fried Snickers?  Why, of course.  Fried Butter?  You betcha!  Fried Cobb Salad?  Right over here!!!  This year…Fried Frito Pie washed down with Fried Beer.

Blech.  My “sensitive” system can’t handle that much fried anything.  I know, I know…as a born Texan, you would think I am all deep-fried and smothered in gravy…but my tummy is….sensitive.

So I have been twice this year.  Opening day with my Girl and two of her buddies.  And then closing day with the son and my Girl.  The Daughter was supposed to join, but she overslept and well, didn’t call until we were on the Midway.  *sigh*

But there’s always next year.  And there’s always something else to be fried.

I say this, because I had a great day.  The weather was PERFECT and there were lots of people to watch and now, to mock. 

I submit the Rules of Fair Going…

  1. Wear comfortable shoes.  Seriously.  You are gonna walk 500 miles (da,da lat  da, da,da lat  da,….you’re welcome) so the more sensible and sturdy they are, the less you are gonna limp and groan…think orthorpedic.  Think white.  Leave the hooker heels at home. 
  2. While on the subject of hooker attire (not to offend the working folk that read this!  they do. I betcha) but seriously…more is better when strolling the Midway.  There are kids for God’s sake.  Cover them, cover it, cover THAT…just COVER IT UP.  I don’t need to know you have a third nipple or if you are wearing underwear.  I choose to leave that to my imagination.  Boobs are not meant for the Fair.  When Big  Tex says “Howdy folks!” it’s not code for “Show me your tits!”
  3. On the other end…if you are wearing pants, first, THANK you and second…make sure they fit.  I have seen the “Pants on the Floor” one too many times this year.  If they are that baggy, eat something.  A burger, ice cream, frosting….something.  Until you fatten up try this…either buy clothes that fit or buy a belt. 
  4. And in opposition of the loose baggy clothing, ladies…leggings are not meant to be worn by fat chicks.  As a fat chick I can say this.  It’s just obscene.  If I can see a tan line through your pants, they are too tight.  If you have to peel them off, they are too tight.  You aren’t a sausage…don’t look like one.
  5. Along the same line, if you aren’t sure if you should wear that midriff baring shirt.  If you are worried about your “muffin top”….DON’T wear it.  I have seen more bellies oozing out of shirts of women that, while overly confident in their appearance, should never wear anything less than a full smock. 
  6. And to the pretty, precious “boy” in the hot pink pants, the hot pink shirt and hot pink boa…Bobby Trendy called and he wants his image back.  You didn’t have to act a fool to get attention…those pants did it for you.  Trust me.
  7. Now, grooming.  Specifically, BATHING…to the smelly guy on the Pirate Ship next to me…you have B.O.  Not just a mild case of it…but a “I think I am gonna puke!” case of it.  Especially when you put your arm behind me on the ride.  Although I appreciated the support…seriously…you stink!  Say it with me…Body Wash.  Followed by Deodorant.  They are not your enemy…
  8. If you are too lazy or just too drunk to walk around the fair, stay home.  The scooters are there for folks that need them.  Not for you because you just can’t be bother to walk or my favorite…you can’t put the Budweiser down.  There are drunk driving laws…surely they are in effect for the fair…just imagine that on your rap sheet…DUI by scooter.  At State Fair. 
  9. Along the same lines, folks, don’t start walking in front of me, slow down or even stop in the middle of the path.  I am on a mission…I need a corny dog and you are in the wrong lane.  Move over…
  10. Texting isn’t allowed at the fair unless you have pulled to the side of the road and are no longer in front of me, fucking up my flow.  I gots corny dogs to eat and your OMG!  LOL!  TTFN!  isn’t helping this at all.  In fact, I will get around you, give you stink eye and blog about you later.
  11. Carnival barker guy…no, you don’t get to guess my weight.  It’s a lot.  Trust me.  And calling me out to have me step on your industrial scale isn’t gonna endear you to me.  Ever.  So let’s just agree to disagree and you go mess with the 7-year-old next to me…
  12. Take a second mortgage out on your home to afford the turkey leg.  It was the last thing we bought this year and the Boy did his level best to finish it…but it was as big as he was.  He gave it his all…until he broke out in meat sweats.  The L-tryptophan got a hold of him on the way home and he was comatose until we hit the driveway.
  13. Take a bag for all the useless shit you are going to buy.  And don’t buy it until the end of the day.   There isn’t any need to drag that 14 piece cookware set around and buy it a ride on the Merry Go Round. 
  14. Don’t put your kid on a leash.  It pisses me off.  If you can’t control them…leave them at home with a sitter.  But its humiliating and when you get older, they will remember it…be warned.
  15. Don’t fight with your boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife/mother/father/sister/brother/child in front of everyone.  All you are doing is being the example of inbreeding.  Put on your manners and leave the dirty laundry at home. 

Oh….I can’t wait for next year!!!!

So, for now, my childhood friend, I say to you…I will miss you…Come back real soon!

Rules of Concert Going

You know, there should be rules for everything.  From driving a car, raising a child, wearing open toe sandals to appropriate work attire and concert going.

 I think I have had more than my say on many of these subjects, but I have not touched on the Rules of Concert Going.

 Until now.

 Folks, do us ALLLLL a favor and just simply follow a few small, yet easily accomplished rules.  It will enhance the concert going experience for us all.  I submit:

  1.  Make sure you have your ticket.  Preferably purchased prior to concert going experience.  JUST a suggestion.
  2. Always go with a group of friends. 
  3. Send your one friend that is always on time ahead to the venue to scope seating.  While the rest of you take the next three hours to get ready, they will ensure that your seats are safely monitored and if it is a lawn concert, they will make sure you have plenty of room.
  4. If you are an aspiring artist…taking your guitar and playing along with the artist is not truly appreciated by anyone.  Leave your guitar and (my favorite) your tambourine at home…or someone is gonna kick your ass for ruining their favorite song. 
  5. If said concert is a lawn concert, there is a SUB set of rules.
    1. Bring your own blanket.  If you decide that the blanket is bulky and “too heavy” then choose to stand in front of me and my friends on our blanket and block our view, it won’t be pretty.  Trust me.
    2. Oh….and don’t move ten feet away and stand and glare at us.  We are lesbians; we are used to being glared at.  You will miss your mark.  COMPLETELY.
  6.   As you will be taking your shoes off, wash your feet.  I don’t want to stare at your ugly, smelly toes if it can at all be helped.
  7. Bring bug spray.  Scented, but bring it. 
  8. Deodorant.  It’s not just for the morning anymore.  Use it; aplenty if you are gonna sweat.  I don’t want to smell you.

Now attire for a concert is always an experience.  So I will submit the following rules for concert attire.  Please follow lest you sit around me, walk by me or are anywhere in my line of vision, because if you look stupid, I will point, laugh and mock you until you cry.  Truly, it’s not nice, it’s a disease and I am seeking help for it.

  1.  It is not necessary to “whore it up” for a concert.  Seriously, I see less flesh in the shower. 
  2. The cowboy boots and shorts are only cute on 6 year olds or teeny tiny girls that have the legs that can rock said combination.  Keep your “ample” pasty legs out of the cowboy boots and shorts outfit.  You look like a sausage and it’s not pretty.
  3. It’s not necessary to wear every ounce of perfume that you own.  There is a hole in the ozone layer and that shit isn’t helping.  Any of us.  Thankyouverymuch.
  4. Bras ARE encouraged.  Especially once gravity has gotten ahold of your 46 triple G’s. 
  5. So is underwear.
  6. Hi-evah…said bras and underwear should be worn as UNDERWEAR.  Not EVER as OUTERWEAR.  I don’t need to see you dancing around in your sports bra and boxer briefs.  Not ever.  And not directly in front of me.  It’s gross and well, we will take your picture and post it on the internet in a blog.   (whoops…)


 Finally and actually as rules go, this one seems to be one that should stand up to all situations. 

 #1 with a bullet: 

 Hey, horny drunk couple in front of us.  Getting so drunk that you can’t stand, find each other’s faces, hold a cigarette or beer is never conducive to successful humping in the evening.  Furthermore…  

We don’t want to see your failed attempts at groping, making out, disrobing, dry humping or dirty talk on the grass, in front of us, or the kids, the grandparents or the in-laws.  If I wanna watch porn, I will pay for it, like every other red blooded American…

And buddy, I coulda had her bra unhooked with one hand…keep practicing…you’ll get there.

 Now, if these rules can be followed, to any sort of degree, the concert going experience should be enjoyable for all.  And sometimes, just sometimes, the experience that I pay for shouldn’t include a sideshow…

Oh, who am I kidding…I love the sideshow.