Bessssssssssssssst Day of My Life!!!! :) Seriously. Best. Day. Ever.

Next to marrying my hottie pie hubby, this was, and I mean it, the best day of my life.

This is just a precursor to a future, more detailed post, but I just had to share my ridiculously happy adventure!

Can I pet your face, mama?

Now, just so you know, the lovely people who run this amazing Otter Heaven don’t let the otters stick their paws in your mouth. This one just snuck her little paw onto my lip and I wasn’t about to complain. Having an otter on my mug is pretty much my biggest dream come true! But the wonderful otter parents always made sure both me and my sweet little otter buddies were safe and happy. I’d say they succeeded beautifully!

Kissy kiss kiss kiss!

Kissy kiss kiss kiss!

"...sunshine, on my otter, makes me happy..." (to the tune of Sunshine on my Shoulders) :)

“…sunshine, on my otter, makes me happy…” (to the tune of Sunshine on my Shoulders) 🙂

Me, deliriously happy, staring at otters as they stalked their prey (me!).

Me, deliriously happy, staring at otters as they stalked their prey (me!).

 

Help! I'm getting otter mugged! (I'm in HEAVEN!!)

Help! I’m getting otter mugged! (I’m in HEAVEN!!) And yes, there is an otter head in my cleavage. Stinker!

In all my life I never dreamed that I would be this blessed.

I’ve always joked that when I die, and hopefully go to Heaven, that God will let me frolic around with a bunch of non-pooping otters. Yes. I’m not even kidding. That’s my idea of Heaven.

And that dream came true and I didn’t even have to die. Yay!

JODI LOVES OTTERS!!!!!!

 

May My Glorious Agony Be Your Joyful Entertainment! ;)

Alrighty, then.

Here is a tale for those of you who enjoy laughing at my outrageously awkward and/or painful adventures.

Whether it’s me unknowingly showering in and drinking from my mom’s douche bag as a child, or being tortured by sadistic massage therapists or having the buzz muff, Lord knows I’ve given you all much reason to laugh at me. But I’m good with that. 😉

Here’s the latest saga. May you revel in my misery…

rainbowsmiley

 

 

I flew to Boston a couple of weeks ago. Got there just fine. All was good.

Then, I flew home on Monday. Ummmm…let’s just say that the travel home was not quite as enjoyable.

So, I get to the airport and get in line to check in. I go up to the counter and start the process of getting my boarding pass. While the chick is typing away, I get a call on my phone that my flight has been delayed. You’d think the chick at the counter who was checking me in would have mentioned that because the delay was so long that it was going to make me miss my connection in Charlotte.

Since she didn’t think it was important, I brought it up. She said, “Oh, yeah, I didn’t even notice that.” Great. Just great. I asked if she could get me on another flight and she said she could get me on an American flight into Chicago (I was originally booked on American–shittiest airline on Planet Earth), and then from Chicago to Phoenix would be on United.

Works for me, as long as I can get home at some point in the next 12 hours.

Then, she tells me that the flight to Chicago is also delayed but only by 30 minutes, so I should still have about an hour between flights…no big deal. I’m good.

I head off to security, and though I’m wearing scrub pants like nurses wear with no zippers, buttons, or anything other than cotton, I set off some kind of terrorist alert in security. Apparently, whatever I’m smuggling into the Boston Airport is in my girlie parts and needs to be investigated thoroughly.

The TSA chick tells me what she’s going to have to do to me and I was like, “That’s fine. Do what you need to do.” I’m not one to begrudge TSA for keeping us safe.

Alas, I had NO idea that I was about to get a near-gynecological exam in front of EVERY DAMN PERSON IN THE FRIGGIN’ AIRPORT. People literally stood there, dumbfounded, as she pretty much checked me so intimately that she knows how close a shave I have in my nether regions.

'Doctor Smith - At your cervix.'

The other TSA agents, and every person within 50 feet, stood there staring, mouths agape, while she felt me up like a randy teenager in the backseat of my 1973 Buick LeSabre.

When she finally finished getting to 3rd base, and everyone else finished plowing through every item in my suitcase (panties included!), and after I was tested for bomb residue, I walked over to collect my things and look up the number for the Rape Crisis line. Of course, one of the TSA guys (not a bad looking fellow to make matters worse!) was standing there looking at me with a shit-eating grin. I laughed and said that normally I get paid for things like that…especially if there’s an audience.

Gotta keep a good sense of humor, right?? Good grief…

Next time, I’m going through security like Vince:

Tired of being slowed down at airport security, Vince began to travel in only a pair of Speedos.

Then I grab some grub, call my sissy and have a fun chat about my molestation, and then check to see how long of a delay this flight to Chicago really has. Well, what was a 30-minute delay is now closer to 45, which only leaves me, according to the chick who checked me in, about 45 minutes to deplane, find my new gate at Chicago O’Hare (the biggest friggin’ airport in the world), and board. Time’s a ticking…

Finally, I get my ass on the plane, plop down in one square foot of space and then sit. And sit. And sit some more as the plane goes nowhere.  The tarmac becomes our home for another 15 minutes. Now my “making my connection” time is down to 30 minutes and I’m starting to panic a bit. But eh, fuck it. It is what it is and worrying about it isn’t going to make the plane take off any faster.

At last, we are vertical and hit crazy turbulence. So the pilot is going up and down, up and down, trying to find us a pocket of air that wasn’t so rough. But what does that do? Keeps us in the air longer. The clock is now down to 20 minutes between flights, less so unless I’m the very first person off the plane (not gonna happen), and I realize there is no way in Hell I’m going to make my connection. Ugh.

When we finally start our descent the guy I’d been chatting with says that he thinks I actually have a little over an hour. Turns out the chick who checked me in didn’t account for the time zones. Well thank God and pass the gravy! I’m getting home tonight! Woo hoo!

By the time we land and my ass gets off the plane, I have 15 minutes until my connecting flight starts boarding, so I know I’m gonna have to run. Now, I don’t really consider myself a “runner” in real life. Only when a herd of dog-sized spiders are chasing me or they are giving away samples of Ben & Jerry’s. But that night? I was gonna be flying through the terminal, heart attack be damned!

As I get off the plane I ask the flight attendant if she can direct me to the United terminal. She says, “Sure thing! Walk WAAAAAAY down that direction and when you get to the Chili’s, turn right and walk about 4 blocks.” Holy moly! How in the hell am I going to make it? But I was a determined lass and I broke into a dauntless run.

I get all the way there (by now I’m on the edge of death) and see my flight number at the gate, but… it says the plane is going to Vegas, not Phoenix. WTF? So, I go ask the attendant and she looks at me and says, “Oh honey, you’re screwed. Your plane arrived at a gate at one end of terminal 3. Now you’re at the exact opposite and far end of terminal 3 and you need to be at the very opposite and far end of terminal 1. And your plane takes off in 30 minutes, but they close the doors in 20. You are never going to make it.”

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

Crazy Sign

Below is a map of Chicago O’hare, in case you’ve not been there. If you need some way to gauge how far of a walk it is from where I was HORRIBLY AND INCORRECTLY directed to and where I actually needed to be, just note that there is an entire hotel and 4 parking lots in the middle of the airport and that’s not even 1/2 of the distance I need to go.

Black dashed lines indicate the WRONG trek that horrible women sent me on.

Red dashed lines indicate the correct location I needed to get to in Superman-turning-the-clock-back-flying speed.

Can we all say it together? Fuckadoodledoo!

But I’m one determined broad. I like my hubby and miss him and WANT TO GET THE HELL HOME!

So, I break into a run. And I mean a run like Satan is chasing me with the TSA lady from earlier and a fiery speculum with my name on it.

I’m sure after about 100 yards that I’m going into cardiac arrest. Then I figure a stroke isn’t far behind.

Please kill me

I look furiously for one of those “beep beep beep” carts that lug people around. I’m willing to give the driver all the cash I have (and possibly some seriously deviant nookie) for a ride to the farthest ends of the earth. Nope. Not a one to be seen because it’s about 10:10pm at this point and they are all happily at home.

I keep running and running and running, then I finally see one. Hallelujah! When I’m about 15 feet from it, and elderly couple get onto it HEADING THE OTHER DIRECTION, of course.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

I keep running. Sweat is pouring off me. I’m beet red in the face, I’m sure. My heart rate is an easy 200 beats per minute and I’m sure that death and a missed flight is my destiny in the next 5 minutes.

I finally get to terminal 1, having no idea that the C gates are at the FAAAAAAR end of terminal 1 after an escalator down, 2 moving walkways (one of which was not working–big shock there), then an escalator up, and then my flight is at almost the very last gate. Of course. So I keep running.

I make it to the gate as they are about to close the door, but I MADE IT YOU FUCKERS! 😉

I get on the plane, now with a splitting headache, heart palpitations and soaking wet. But I’m on a plane and if I stink it up, so be it!

3 and a half hours later, I arrive happily in Phoenix.

But no, this saga is no where near done yet.

The chick next to me in the plane is a very kind and funny flight attendant, lucky for me. So I ask her what terminal we’re landing at. Terminal 2. I’m parked at terminal 4. Of course. So I ask her if she knows how to get to the Sky Train. She groans and says that the Sky Train doesn’t go to terminal 2. I’ll have to hoof it to terminal 3 to catch it. Normally they have little carts that’ll take you there, but since it’s 12:30 at night, there are no carts. Shocking. 😉

So, I go down, get my luggage, dig out my keys and put them in the outer pocket of my travel backpack, snap the pocket shut and start trudging to terminal 3. Oh, and I failed to mention that I was breaking in a new pair of shoes that have a sole so thick and yummy that it’s like walking in soft sand. My calves and thighs were burning so badly that I thought they might spontaneously combust.

I finally get to terminal 3 after a ridiculous amount of cursing and sweating, get on the Sky Train, arrive at terminal 4, walk to the parking garage elevators, go to grab my keys, and the pocket where I put them is unsnapped and the keys are nowhere to be found.

At this point it’s 1:00am. I’ve been up for 21 straight hours, run a marathon, bathed in vat of sweat, died twice and come back to life. And now my keys are missing.

What did I do? Well, I can tell you that I’d lost my sense of humor at this point, so I sat in the floor and cried for 10 minutes. I, and I’m not kidding, can’t recall the last time I cried. It’s got to have been at least a few years. But I just sat there and wept the tears of a child who lost their teddy bear out the car window on a deserted freeway at night. Oh, and I cussed a lot. A LOT.

Finally, I realized that my only options were to retrace my steps or throw myself down a flight of stairs.

So I got up and got moving.

Back through terminal 4.

Back onto the Sky Train, looking in every cabin.

Back through terminal 3.

Back to the hike from terminal 3 to terminal 2 (dragging 40 pounds of suitcase the whole time too!).

Back to baggage claim.

And there my keys were. I must have somehow snagged my backpack’s pocket when I was getting my luggage and they fell out. Thank God they were there.

So then I headed back on the seemingly never-ending trek from terminal 2 to terminal 3.

Got back on the Sky Train to terminal 4.

Got off at terminal 4 and slogged through my puddle of tears on the floor.

Found my car.

Drove my exhausted ass HOME SWEET HOME!

And took out a hit on everyone who’d messed with me that day.

KIDDING! Please don’t send the FBI to my house. It’s kinda messy and I’d be embarrassed. Plus, me no likey prison.

catprison

By the time I got home I was so tired and so strung out that I couldn’t fall asleep and was up ’til 5am, so I had to call in sick to work. So, I guess there was one silver lining! Sometimes a girl needs a day off to get some well-earned sleep!

Lord have mercy…what an adventure!

Good news is, I made it home in one piece. Oh, and I got a 90-minute massage the next day to make my poor aching muscles feel better.

Squirrel massage

BendOver

Airport

May all of YOUR travels be molestation- and stroke-free! 😉

Unless you like being molested.

Then I hope for you lots of grabby-ass hands all over your fine self!

The Illicit, Illegal and Immoral Adventures of Tick Teddy

Well, you guys know that our little Tick Teddy likes to go on wild adventures.

He’s been all over the country and up into Canada, leaving a trail of dead hookers in his wake.

There’s no confining him. No stopping him. He just won’t abide!

This week, Tick Teddy is on Hollywood Boulevard.

He’s laying waste to everything in his path and I will show you the evidence that can certainly (hopefully) be used against him in a court of law.

Tick’s Seemingly Innocent Start

“Hi mama. Daddy left me here while he’s off banging bar slut wannabes. There’s nothing for me to play with. I’m bored mama.”

Tick Bored Hollywood March 2016

 

Tick Finds a Friend

“Look who I found, mama! I gots me a Tyrannical Rex to play with. I hope he doesn’t pull me down into a life ‘a crime. I’ma gonna use him to help me see over all the tall people heads. Not to rob banks. No sirreee bob. I promise.”

Tick With T-rex Hollywood March 2016

 

Tick and Daddy Share a Star

“Told you I was gonna be good. Me ‘n Daddy have our own star on the Walk o’ Shame…oh, I means Walk of Fame.”

Tick with Grant Star Hollywood March 2016

 

Tick Has a Bad Dream

“Hey mama, I gots you a new boyfriend! He tells me he’s the man that dreams are made of. I’m not sure I believe him mama. Mama???”

Tick with Freddy Kruger Hollywood March 2016

 

Tick Finds a Solution

“Whew! No bad dreams for the Tick, mama. I gots me a hundrit percent solution to what ails me.”

Tick with Bongs Hollywood March 2016

 

Tick Finds His Father

“Mama, I thought you said Daddy was my Daddy? Then why is this asshat telling me that HE’S my father? What’s goin’ on, mama?”

Tick with Darth Vader Hollywood March 2016

 

Tick Breaks the Law

“Look, mama, I had to escape my new Daddy. He touched me in bad places. So, yeah, I’ma gonna turn right on red. I gots ta get outta here and fast!”

Tick Turning Right on Red Hollywood March 2016

 

Tick Gets a Close Encounter of the Boobage Kind

“It sure is warm in here mama. Tick likey.”

Tick with Marilyn Hollywood March 2016

 

Tick Savors the Spoils

“Now mama, don’t get upset. It’s alcohol-free beer. I ain’t shining you on. You knows I’m a good Tick and would never do anything bad or that would get me in trouble.”

Tick With Beer Hollywood March 2016

 

Tick Goes to the Pokey

“Well, mama, it had to happen sumtime. I’m just glad you aren’t around to see it first hand. They’s throwing me in the hootscow. I’ma dun for. Say bye to the other teddies for me. I see the way that ho’se is eyeballin’ me. This ain’t gonna go down easy…”

Tick with Cop Hollywood March 2016

 

Fare thee well, little buddy. Mommy and Daddy will always love you…

PS: Big props to the hubby, who, while out of town and knowing that I miss him terribly, takes Tick on his adventures and sends me these pictures to make me smile. I am truly the most blessed girl on earth. I love you, baby! 🙂

 

Best Damn Macaroni Salad EVER!

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas, a Happy New Year and is surviving the abysmal return to work. I’m hanging on by the skin of my teeth. I need to be independently wealthy so that every week is like Christmas! 😉 Ah…to dream.

Anyway, I digress.shock kitty

So, believe it or not, I actually cooked stuff this Christmas. I know. SHOCKING!

I made my mom’s famous mac salad (even people who don’t usually like mac salad like this!) and cheesy taters. Yum!

While the cheesy taters are, health-wise, just this side of a heart attack, the macaroni salad isn’t so bad. Especially if you use the Kraft Olive Oil mayo. Way less calories and fat than regular mayo and I can’t tell the difference. Also, I use less than one cup of mayo (mom uses way more), so my suggestion is to start with less and work your way up if you want it creamier. I think too much mayo is pukey, but you do what makes you happy. 🙂

Anyway, I thought I’d share the mac salad recipe for those of you who want to eat something as fresh and delicious as watermelon on a hot summer day. Especially since it’s cold as a witch’s tit out there and we could all use a little bit of summer right now. Except me. I live in AZ and had my air conditioning on the other day. Yes. I’m a wretched bitch. 🙂

Here’s the recipe straight from the cookbook. Enjoy!

Mom’s Macaroni Salad

I think maybe twice in my life I’ve had good macaroni salad at a restaurant or deli. It’s either got too much mayonnaise (yuck!) or some weird spice or a gross tang that makes me want to retch. I keep trying, but I rarely find one that is palatable. What is my solution to this problem? Make my own.

To be quite frank, that solution almost never occurs to me. It does not occur to a furry little blind mole to buy reading glasses. Why would it occur to ME to cook something voluntarily? It usually doesn’t. But this is super easy and is incredibly light tasting and refreshing. It has very few ingredients (whew…) and is almost impossible to make wrong. To me, that is the perfect recipe.

Stuff you’ll need:

  • 1 one-pound box of elbow macaroni
  • 1 green pepper
  • 4 good-sized tomatoes
  • 1 large cucumber
  • 1 medium-sized, sweet onion (don’t use a yellow or red, they are way too potent—look on the label of the onion for the word “sweet”)
  • 1 cup of mayonnaise* (maybe more)
  • Salt and pepper, to taste

*I use Kraft Mayo with Olive Oil™ as I can’t tell the difference between it and regular mayo, but it has way fewer calories and less fat than the regular kind.

Putting it all together:

  1. Cook the macaroni according to the directions on the box.
  2. Once it’s cooked (don’t overcook it) dump it into a colander and thoroughly rinse it with cool water.
  3. Empty the macaroni into a large bowl.
  4. Cut the tomatoes into bite-sized pieces and add to the bowl.
  5. Peel the cucumber and cut into bite-sized pieces and add to the bowl.
  6. Cut the green pepper into large pieces (I do this because I don’t want to bite down on a piece of green pepper, but it does add a nice flavor to the salad—you can cut it any way you want) and add to the bowl.
  7. Dice the onion into small pieces (you don’t want any big bites of onion either, but you do actually want onion in your mouth) and add to the bowl.
  8. Add about 1/2 the mayonnaise and stir. Continue to add the mayo until it’s got enough for you. Some people like tons of it, some people don’t.
  9. Add salt and pepper. Taste it. Add more salt and pepper as necessary.
  10. Refrigerate for at least a couple of hours so everything has time to chill. If you can, refrigerate it overnight. It is at its absolute best on the second day.
  11. Before serving, make sure to stir and taste-test it one more time to make sure it has enough salt. It will be bland if it doesn’t have enough salt.

One of my favorite things about this salad is that it doesn’t have a bunch of weird junk in it. I think sometimes people get so obsessed with making food all fancy and complicated that they lose sight of what makes it taste so good—simplicity. This salad has a clean, crisp, summer taste to it. It is one of my all-time favorite things to eat while sitting in the backyard and watching the chickens play as the sun goes down.

Dragon-breath-o-meter

sparky small 1

 

 

PS: Go easy with the onion at first and add more a little bit at a time. I love tons of onion, but just in case you don’t you can always leave it out or just use a little. 🙂

Christmas presents for the peeps that already have it all!

So, the hubby doesn’t really need anything for Christmas. I’ve swamped him with so many presents over the last 6 years for this birthday and Christmas that we can’t fit one more damn thing in the house. He did come up with one thing he needs–a new table saw. So, that’s definitely on the list. But I like to bury him up to his eyeballs in gifts and was running out of ideas. Then I saw a Groupon that would totally be fun.

Grant and I went horseback riding on our honeymoon (I was terrified and riding a limping horse for fuck’s sake!), but haven’t been back since. I figured this would bring back wonderful memories and be a great time in the 75 degree weather of an Arizona winter.

So if you have one of those pesky damn people in your life that already has everything they need and want, so buying presents is a pain in the ass because you have no clue what to get, might I suggest fun stuff to do instead of a material gift? I’ve started taking Mom on vacations each year for her main Christmas present (plus a bunch of other little things too) and now I’m going to start doing that for the hubby. It may sound totally sappy (okay, it IS totally sappy) but those awesome memories are better than something in a box any day.

Of course, since I like to have him unwrap a zillion presents, I made this for him and printed it as an 8×10, and then stuffed it into a box so that he has a gift to unwrap that tells him about his gift. Yeah, I’m a doofus! 🙂

Christmas present for my Muffin!

Christmas present for my Muffin!