Ahhhh…the good ol’ days

I got to thinking tonight, after visiting a Facebook page dedicated to the small town I grew up in, about how much fun it was to grow up in the 80s as a teenager.

Yeah, we didn’t have the Internet (eeeee gawds!).

We didn’t have cell phones.

I had to get my lazy ass off the dent in the sofa to change the channel. My tolerance for mis-aligned rabbit ears was quite high. I could watch a show even though its horizontal tuning made the picture flip up every 10 seconds.

I didn’t even have caller ID until I was 22.

My 1973 Buick LeSabre (the boat) had an AM radio that would change stations if I took a sharp turn (doing 85mph!).

That same “boat” saw tons o’ backseat action from my friends (and occasionally me) at parties at the Peach Orchard or on someone’s farm or backyard.

Good music. Great friends. Lots of beer!

Good music. Great friends. Lots of beer!

I hid my smokes and my birth control pills under the seat in my car and blamed them on my friends when my mom found them.

We had tons of parties most weekends since my mom was newly married to my ex-step-father and they’d go out and come home very late with leaves in their hair.

At those parties, everyone would throw their beer cans into the snow in the backyard, only to be discovered by my mom when the snow melted. I lied on the spot SOOOO well about where the beer cans originated that I somehow managed to not only NOT get in trouble, but garner sympathy from her.

At those same parties, we once had someone take the bananas in the fruit basket and half eat them, then stick their gooey remains all over the house to be found by my mom upon coming home. That was harder to explain than the beer cans, but I managed.

The banana sticker collection from all those dang bananas!

The banana sticker collection from all those dang bananas!

After those awesome parties, boys would toss rocks at my sister’s and my bedroom windows to get us to sneak out–we typically did! We just had to wait for either the AC or the heat to kick on as it was so loud you couldn’t hear the suction noise the front door made when it closed.

That's the rock-collecting window, me for prom and my little sis that would warn us when the parents were coming home so we could kick everyone out the back door before they pulled into the driveway. :)

That’s the rock-collecting window, me for prom and my little sis that would warn us when the parents were coming home so we could kick everyone at the party out the back door before the ‘rents pulled into the driveway. :)

At one of those sneak outs, I had I guy tell me we could use his dad’s hot tub. When we got to his dad’s apartment he filled the bath tub with hot water and said, “Voila! A hot tub.” No, he got no ass that night. ;)

I remember having a teacher at one of my high schools and the sluttier my friends and I would dress, the more he’d let us skip class and hang out in his office drinking his liquor and smoking stogies.

I remember another teacher who was a total perv, and I had him for 2 classes, so I skipped both of them for an entire year and right before summer break my vice principal called me into his office and asked where I’d gone for those 2 classes all year long. My response was, “Away from that pervert….” Yeah, I didn’t get in a bit of trouble. All was forgiven.

I fondly recall driving by hot guys’ houses and writing in chalk on the road in front of their houses things like “You’re hot.” God, what a doofus.

Once, I went to the Rock-n-Roll Revival (an awesome music show my HS put on) and doodled my love for a certain guy all over the show’s program while leaving comments (most of them flattering) next to all of the cast members’ names, then stupidly dropping it in the floor instead of the trash can so that EVERYFUCKINGONE could read it. I still feel bad about doodling that one girl had duck feet. She was so nice and I didn’t expect for anyone else to lay eyes on it.

That's my smokin' hot sister on the left in the Rock-n-Roll Revival.

That’s my smokin’ hot sister on the left in the Rock-n-Roll Revival.

I loved making mix tapes for boyfriends and misery tapes after the breakup. Kids nowadays have no idea how hard it is to skip through every radio station looking for THE song so you could get it on tape, just to miss the first 5 seconds. That wonderful stress of NEEDING that song but knowing the challenge you faced actually finding it for your tape.

I remember putting bologna slices all over a dickbag’s car because, well, he was a dickbag. Boy was he pissed (that was as bitchy as I ever got, and I know it wasn’t really nice). But seriously, he was such a dick, he had it comin’.

I recall when one of my best friends kicked the glass panel in the exit door by the Ertzman Theater and put her foot through it. Yep, their was blood.

I used to get such a thrill out of running away from Jack the Hall Monitor at my first high school and buying Ruby the Hall Monitor at my second HS some McDonalds so that she’d let me skip and not bust me.

I thoroughly enjoyed wearing bra tops and miniskirts with 4-inch heels to school ’cause, yeah, that’s appropriate.

I was terrified when a different vice principal at my second HS came and dragged me out of my 12th grade English class to “explain” the state of my locker to him. It was OUR locker, not my locker. But luckily for my locker-mates, they all just happened to not be in school that day, so I had to scrub the fucking thing clean with Ajax while wearing those 4-inch heels. Oh, and yes, I was MORTIFIED by the nasty shit written in that locker when the VP was standing next to me. We had drawn perversion all over it. It was awesome!

Try and read all that naughty stuff! Good grief!

Try and read all that naughty stuff! Good grief!

I longingly remember making out with sexy boys and not letting them get to 2nd base because I liked being a good girl (sometimes, not ALL the time!).

Faces have been blurred to protect the innocent! ;)

I loved going to OC (the beach at Ocean City) and not going to sleep until the sun came up and praying no one would smell the pot under the door of the hotel. I never had a desire to go to jail.

Yeah, that smoke is not from cigs. ;)

Yeah, that smoke is not from cigs. ;)

Walking a mile in deep snow to get to the High’s for an ice cream cone was awesome and well worth it.

The High's was on the right, just as you entered the shopping center. It was awesome.

The High’s was on the right, just as you entered the shopping center. It was amazing.

I’d make visits to the Sandy Spring Bank, all dolled up and smelling pretty, to go flirt with an old flame.

Sandy Spring Bank

And I’d eat at “The Deli” with my mom all the time. They had the best grilled provolone on Rye with tomato sandwiches and veggie soup I’ve ever had!

My mommy in front of The Deli. Yum!

My mommy in front of The Deli. Yum!

All of these things I loved so very much and I miss my hometown all the time.

To all of you who grew up around the same era as me, I hope you had as much fun as I did.

And much love to all of the wicked, naughty friends I had that contributed to my debauchery! I know I corrupted a few of you back, and damn was it fun! XOXOXOXO

I’m trying something new…NO! Not bestiality! Ya bunch of perverts! ;)

Over the last few years I’ve had some requests to turn my blog into a podcast of sorts.

As I’m lazy as fuck (in reality I just work too damn hard during the day!), I’ve been putting it off. But with my last post I got a few emails telling me they want to hear it instead of read it. So, I’m giving in.

But I must warn you…I’m doing it in one take. So if I fuck up horribly, sneeze or decide to eat dinner while recording…well, you are just going to have to hear it all. ;)

Here’s my first try. It’s a recording of my last post, “I’ve HAD it,” which is a rant about dumbfuckery.

It’s not word-for-word, but it’s close.

Don’t be too hard on me and all my mess-ups.

:)

 

Here’s the link if ya wanna see the last pic in the post. :)

 

I’ve HAD it!

Okay, so it’s no surprise to any of you that I prefer proper English unless making a point or being silly or for some other good reason. Lord knows I’ve said “ain’t” and other such things on more than one occasion. I’m flying my hypocrite flag as I type. ;)

And I know I can be a grammar freak and should probably just suck it up in this day and age of texting, but I saw something so egregious the other day that I simply have to comment on it.

First let me say that I understand abbreviations make it easier to text when:

  1. You have no fucking clue how to spall wrds
  2. You don’t care about spaleng wrods kerrektly
  3. You like confusing us old folk
  4. You are texting while driving 80 mph and are trying not to murder everyone on the road
  5. You are getting nookied from behind and all that commotion is making it difficult to type

I get it. Sometimes an abbreviation is okay. On a VERY rare occasion I use one myself. (Usually WTF? when I’m attempting to be polite!). :)

But this one that I saw defies all comprehension.

I seriously do NOT understand how this abbreviation is at all easier to type than actually spelling the word.TheFuckKitty

Here it is: ‘Yn(n)’s

What in the holy fuck?

Here’s how that breaks down from a typing perspective on an Android phone.

  1. Tap the symbol key
  2. Tap the apostrophe key
  3. Tap the ABC key
  4. Tap the Capitalization key
  5. Tap the Y key
  6. Tap the n key
  7. Tap the symbol key
  8. Tap the opening parentheses key
  9. Tap the ABC key
  10. Tap the n key
  11. Tap the symbol key
  12. Tap the closing parentheses key
  13. Tap the apostrophe key
  14. Tap the ABC key
  15. Tap the s key

Luckily, due to the context of the truly awful sentence, I was able to suss out that they were attempting to communicate the word “youngins.”

How on earth is it easier to do all those steps listed above than just typing the fuckin’ word?

I both burst out laughing and died of horror when I saw that helpful texting shortcut. What on God’s green Earth…?

While I realize I’m old and inflexible and an asshat, can we please just agree that if the abbreviation is harder to type than the damn word itself that we’ll just stick to the damn word? Please?SillySmileyFace

All those under the age of 35 will have but one answer for me:

NonKitty

Sassy, Slutty and Sentimental

…yep, that about sums it up!

Recently, I did a radio show that asked me to send in a few songs that I thought summed up my thoughts about life. I thought that was a cool idea as it can really help a person define themselves–to themselves.

It was actually quite hard to do because, well, I’m a lunatic as we all know. One day I’m mauling all of my teddy bears and playing house with them, and the next I’ve got on some slutty nurse outfit. I guess that’s the Gemini in me. To say I’ve got multiple personalities is the understatement of the year. ;)

Anyway, I thought I’d share my songs with you. I bought them so hopefully I’m not violating some freaking obscure copyright law by posting them here.

I hope you enjoy them!

Songs for:

When I feel trampy:

 

When I feel like life is just about as awesome as it can get:

 

When I feel like shaking my ass (when no one is home and all the blinds are drawn–eee gawds!):

 

When I feel like kicking EVERYONE’s ass from here to hell and back…then hitting them about the head and shoulders with a hammer…then disemboweling them…then setting them on fire and humping on their ashes:

 

When I wanna sing and dance in my car to the horror of others:

 

Okay, I could go on and on and on, alas, I’m cutting myself off here! :)

Now, I’m gonna say something that sounds all shrinky and shit, but it’s not a bad idea…if life isn’t exactly how you want it to be, find your own songs. Sometimes, hearing how you feel articulated by others can help clarify things for you. I know…that seems kinda silly, but it can work. If your “theme song” is “I wish someone would fuckin’ kill me”…well…that can give you clarity. ;)

I’m off to make spaghetti sauce. YUM!!!!! Yeah, cooking usually sucks, but this is one dish I can make like a mo fo. Plus, the hubby is cutting up all the onions, garlic and green pepper–so really, all I have to do is dump everything into a pot. Ahhh…the good life.

XOXO

 

 

Horrified in the Fry’s Parking Lot!

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Be prepared for 2 things:

  1. My shortest blog post ever!
  2. To be grossed out beyond belief.

While driving out of the grocery store parking lot I stopped to let a woman cross the street and go into the store. Innocuous so far, right?

Well…Oh, the horror of it all!

She was pushing the cart with her belly while picking her nose with one hand and BRUSHING HER TEETH WITH THE OTHER!

What.

The.

Fuck.

I could die tonight and have seen it all. ALL!

Total insanity.

Granted, I’m a visual atrocity fairly often. I go to Starbucks in my pajamas and with no makeup. But someone kill me if I ever walk around with one finger in my nose and the other working a toothbrush.

I don’t even know how she did it. Isn’t it like rubbing your belly and patting your head. Good grief! ;)