Monthly Archives: November 2012

False Advertising


I bill myself as a techno-phobe but that’s a lie.

Now, let’s be clear. I don’t crave technology like some. I don’t need the latest and greatest. I like to wait to buy something until the bugs have been worked out, which is why I will never camp out at an Apple Store. Ever.

(I’d make a Taylor Swift allusion, but let’s face it. That whore will back it up when the dick calls. We all know it and singing about how you won’t isn’t convincing.)

Anyway. I’m not crazed, but I do like my technology. Especially my iPhone. My hades, the apps. Did you know there’s one for Starbucks? You can load $ on it and buy your lattes. Plus, you earn reward points! I LOVE reward points even more than Taylor Swift likes older men who are going to work her over!

(Why the hate on Tay-Tay today? Because she bugs the shit outta me.)

So rather than patronize the small independent coffee shop that is a) closer to my house and b) makes a latte that would give any green-apron-wearing barista a caffeinated orgasm, I drive myself out to the soulless corporate coffee conglomerate and buy coffee with my gadget.

I am a jerk. A jerk who decries the death of small business in run-on sentences, then contributes to their demise with her fucking iPhone. Damn it.

This little place is great. They contribute to our schools. They are sweet. Their skinny vanilla latte is a gift from the Columbian heavens. I need to put the gadget down and take my butt over to the local mom & pop place. Otherwise, the next time I bemoan the encroachment of Wal-Mart and its big box kin, I will burst into hypocritical flames.

Fat is really, really flammable, you guys.




Last night, I lay in bed hopped up on stolen candy and nursing a bad case of the giggles. Sugar buzzes are a bitch.

“How much do you love me?” I asked my husband, coy and flirtatious as only a fat, 40 year old mommy can be.

Sensing a request for water, or to check for the 5th time that the pumpkins were indeed extinguished, he sighed with truly heroic forbearance. “Why?”

“Would you help me build a TARDIS?”


“I’m thinking we should change up our decorations next year, go Doctor Who themed!”

“What are you going to build it out of?”

“Plywood. Duh.”

Heavy, heavy sigh. “I love you. A lot. More than you can ever imagine. Forever and ever, amen.”

“Where’s the but?”

“What but?”

“The ‘I love you, but…'”

“No but.”

“No but?”

“Just this one.” Yes, he grabbed my butt. 

“So we can build a TARDIS?”

“Hmmmm.”  Sounds like an agreement to me!

“I’m going to look for plans tomorrow. I want one that lights up. And whirrs. We should probably find cutouts of the Doctors. And maybe a Dalek. We could BUILD a DALEK! Oooo, and a Cyberman!”


He thinks I’ll forget this. Fool.