Unrequited Love

So yeah, we answer any call that comes in at my job. The answering services say that they hate paging us with some of the whacko stuff that people come up with, but I love the weird ones, cause normally it's a lot of the same stuff: cough, colds, vomiting, that kind of thing. So when someone rattles the cage a little, it keeps things interesting on our end.

Except the real nutjobs. Got a page this week for a guy who was, to paraphrase, having problems completing the job, and had swollen areas in the southern region. Oye. And on the Sabbath too. Why these things come up in the afternoons, I'll never know, but you can pretty much predict that the sex calls and such will happen in the afternoon. Afternoon Delight, I guess.

Called him back, but the dude never answered the phone. Must've figured it out, or found some other hapless victim, but he never called me back, and I didn't return the favor.

And so, for you manly men out there, here's a Ring a Ding Ding Gold Panel Rat Pack Shirt, from Fast Eddie's Retro Rags, on ebay.

Yerrrrrrrrr Outta Here!

I like craigslist. It ranks right up there with freecycle, as far as finding interesting things. I’ve gotten rid of some things through both sites – including a huge oil furnace and a lead sink, both of which had been in our garage, at that point, for over ten years. Listed ‘em and POOF! They were outta there. It was a beautiful thing.

So I keep my eye out on both sites, to see if something fun comes up. Lots of vintage sellers do the same. So imagine the giggle I got when Janet, of
Old and New Yankees Blue fame, posted about an
Umpire Waist Wedding Gown, listed on the a Lincoln Nebraska craigslist.

Seems like those Nebraskans are on to something. When we got married, we got two potpourri pots. I know people who have gotten four toasters, and Lord knows, we all get towels – but at least you always need them. But who in the world would’ve thought that Nebraska would have the foresight to start the newest trend in wedding gifts? Umpires.

What better way to deal with that first fight? There would be no “I’m going home to mother” if everyone received an umpire as a wedding gift. I’ve known several couples would would’ve benefited from their own ruleskeeper. Who needs Dr. Phil? Just hand over the umpire, and he’ll set you straight.

I think it’s a great idea. Though I don’t know that I’d want him there for the first home run. But maybe that’s just me.

So I went looking, to see what cute umpire-ish thing I could find, and what should I come across but this cute little trio of nuns, including an umpire nun. These sisters can hit the ball andsave you from eternal damnation, all at the same time. And they wouldn’t let you get divorced either, so maybe these are real wedding umpires. I must confess, they’re adorable. And who would argue with a nun umpire, anyway? Coming to you from sansav, on ebay.

I rent him out for parties

I love a guy in a tux. Specifically, I love my husband in a tux, cause he looks so darn nice in it. Of course, I realize that most days, he’s in painting clothes that are covered in a number of shades of paint, but it doesn’t matter – the guy looks good in formalwear.

On our Alaska cruise a couple of weeks ago, he wore his tux to formal night. After dinner that night, in the club on deck 12, they had 007 night, complete with revolver shaped ice sculptures and a martini fountain. I never saw the fountain, though I heard tell of it. We were too busy on the dance floor, cause the man also loves to dance, too. He's generally the life of the party. Heck, sometimes he brings the party.

One time, we went to a wedding for someone I worked with. DH and a buddy got into a contest to see who would get the highest stack of empty (beer) cups. About the time his stack hit eye level is when “YMCA” started playing. You know how the song has a trumpet introduction? Well, the dh goes strutting up to the dance floor, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes, and right as the first “Young Man” started in the song, takes his shirt, slams it down in the middle of the floor, drops into the splits, and comes up dancing. To cheers.

Yeah, he’s shy. NOT.

By the end of that wedding, someone else I worked with, but didn’t know very well, came up to me and said “You guys are a lot of fun. I’m getting married in six weeks. If I invite you guys, will you come?” My response?

“Yeah, I rent him out for parties.”

We went to her wedding and had a blast too.

Fast forward several years. I’m dropping my dd off at preschool, and was introduced to a woman who had the same name as the bride in wedding #1. I said “isn’t that funny, because I know someone with that same name,” which, I might add, is not a common name. She said, “oh yeah, my sister in law has the same name, because the two brothers both married Kims.” Then she looked at me really funny and said “were you at their wedding?” I just sighed and said yes. “OMG,” she said, you guys are a blast!”

So yeah, I rent him out for parties. And he will wear a tux, if the occasion calls for it. And he will look mighty fine in it, too. So, in honor of the old guy in the penguin suit, here’s a cute tuxedo inspired yellow plaid vintage dress, coming to you from Capricorn Vintage, on ebay.
Cause sometimes the tux isn't the only thing you have to rent for a party.

A brain is a terrible thing to waste

Most of you know that my main job is as a nurse, taking calls on an advice line. It can get pretty monotonous in flu season: coughs, colds, vomiting, blah blah blah, but you know, people need help, so there I am. I love it. It can be pretty entertaining at times, too. But sometimes when you answer calls, you just have to wonder what in the world people are thinking. Or if they ARE thinking. Or if they have the CAPABILITY to think. The other day, I got the most stupid call possibly of my lifetime. I may never have another one like this.

Answered live. In the afternoon, which usually means it's a sex call (see Gettin' Jiggy With It..). But this was a "settle the argument" call. I'm used to settling arguments and bets with our callers. I used to get a lot of these when we answered for a hospital near the college in town. Like the time one of the frat boys asked me to settle a bet -- "what is a herpetologist? A person who studies snakes, or a specialist in herpes?" I don't know if there was beer involved in winning, but for the record, it's a person who studies snakes.

Mom and Dad's tuition money, at hard work. Yep.

So here's the basic gist of the call I got the other day. Ring in if you know the right answer before this chick.

“My mom, my sister and I have been having a discussion, and we need you to settle the argument.”

“Sure, what can I help you with?”

"Are the boogers in your nose brain tissue?”

::insert LONG, incredulous pause::

“No.”

“Really? Then what are they?”

“Mucus.”

“What’s mucus?”

::insert long discussion about mucus, sinuses and such::

::pause::

“So you mean that when I blow my nose, it’s not brain matter?”

::insert cartoon style balloon over nurse's head::
Honey, in your case, I doubt it, cause you have to have brain matter to begin with, and if you do, let’s HOPE it’s not flying out your nose.

And so, in honor of those who do or don't have gray matter, here's a fabulous Shaheen skirt, in all matter of gray and white, with some black and charcoal thrown in, for good measure. For the intelligent shopper, from Cats Vintage and Designer Clothing, on ebay.

B-I-N-G-O

Just FYI: this is Customer Service Appreciation Week. We've had balloons, Dairy Queen, raffles, and more. They even gave away little calendars for 2008 -- and the illustration on my birth month is perfect for me. I even emailed the director and thanked him for personalizing it just for me. Cause you know, being the baby, nothing was ever made for me. The baby gets hand me downs. So I'm special.

Special, that is, till we played email bingo today. Yep, we played bingo, via email, at the office. Now, I don't know if you've ever played bingo, but bingo players are serious. Wildly serious. On our cruise a couple of weeks ago, those ladies got downright mean, the more numbers that were pulled. It was crazy. The tension in a bingo hall is something like a 40 year old waiting for the pregnancy test to finish. Serious, serious stuff. So I don't know why I thought email bingo would be different. Heck, they're probably giving away luggage tags or swim wallets, for all I know, but these ladies are nuts.

After the second number, I emailed the "caller" and said "what do you think would happen if I yelled Bingo right now. Really loud? Cause we all know that I can do loud." She emailed back "I'm almost prepared to dare you." The boss emailed back that she was afraid what would happen. Well, I never got the chance, cause three numbers later, someone emailed BINGO and the game was over. Yeah -- five numbers pulled and that chick won a prize. Emails shot back and forth about how Radiology was taking over the afternoon wins, and we have been warned, to which the winner yelled "don't be hatin'".

I, being me, emailed a strike sign that said "Strike! Unfair Labor Practices." Cause our department never wins anything. Mainly cause we're never here when anything goes on, but hey, let's bingo at night for a change. To the point where I had to swipe the boss' cards, cause they didn't give me any -- cause we're never here when anything happens. And hey, the boss is a Jehovah's Witness, so she can't gamble anyway.

Other than the gamble she takes, working with me, that is.

And so, in honor of Customer Service week, and the bingo hall atmosphere -- where sometimes the sounds go like this: "B7, Code Blue, O73, Call the transplant team, be quiet, I only have one number left call the priest on call BINGO" -- here's a cute vintage Bingo shirt coming to you straight from drob50spurs, on ebay. Bingo winnings not included.

Could this be the magic?

I have a magic butt. Yep, that's right. I have maximized my gluteii.

Most women have this magic too, but maybe they don't know it, so I'm spreading the word. It doesn't happen until one gets married, and exponentiates greatly upon the birth of children.

Case in point, the morning magic butt: I lay in bed for a while after I wake up. I hate mornings, so I delay vertical movement for as long as possible. This means that I delay it until my bladder, sagging a bit from the birth of three children plus some extra luggage, screams for mercy. Not a creature is stirring in the house. The place is like a morgue. Like a morgue, that is, until my magic butt decides to get up, at which point I will be lucky to make it to the bathroom without swimming. At the exact point at which vertical movement begins, someone (and it doesn't matter who) runs into the bathroom, locks the door, and starts showering. Or the husband magically appears out of nowhere with the newspaper, which means that I'm not getting in that bathroom till I'm floating.

Another case in point: the evening magic butt. I am sitting on the couch, watching TV. Maybe I've watched half a football game (ok, well, I'm not WATCHING the football game, but it's on, cause I'm a supportive wife who pretends to watch the game while hubby fumes about the score), and I suddenly decide to get up to answer nature's call. The magic butt strikes again, because the minute I start to get up to go to the bathroom, again, someone flies in there and starts running the bathwater.

And you know, I'm sorry, but when the 13yo ds decides to take a bath, it's a miracle. And I don't interfere with miracles.

But I can't take long baths like the teenaged son, because the magic butt intervenes. This is one that every mother can relate to. The family is calm. Hubby's half asleep in front of the TV. Boys are playing video games, and dd is chatting it up with her friends. What better time to take a nice bath, one would think? Yeah, right.

The minute my naked butt hits that tub, the knocking on the door starts. I have learned, over the course of time, to lock the door, to keep them at bay, but that doesn't stop the high octane knocking. "What are you doing in there? I need to pee. When are you gonna be outta there? Is my brush in there?" The list goes on and on, but let's just say that there isn't so much family togetherness since Christmas morning as when my butt hits the tub.

The bedtime magic butt is different. Say I've been "watching" the game with the husband. Say that the husband has been asleep since the third quarter. Say that I have a good book to read, so I decide that I'm going to go read in bed. I go in, brush my teeth, get jammies on, turn the lamp over the bed on, and magically, when my butt hits the bed, the hubby shows up, crawls in the bed and says "when are you gonna turn that light out? I'm trying to sleep."

Every time. Without fail.

And so, in honor of my magical bootiness, here's a couple of pretties, to show off the magic, from some of my favorite sellers:

This lace 20s confection is droolworthy, and comes to you from Dorothea's Closet. I've loved this one since I first laid eyes on it -- and may've even blogged about it before but tough, you have to look at it, because I love it. No way my magic will fit in it, so someone buy it -- it's luscious! And whilst you are visiting her website, look at that Ceil Chapman on the homepage. It deserves a blog of its own.

The wonderful purple Sarah Whitworth corset dress at the top of the page is from Vintage A-Peel , who has all that's fabulous in vintage on the other side of the big pond. Here's her take on this one, when I asked her to show me something that makes a butt look great: "Great is probably a matter of opinion, whether you're trying to maximise or minimise, but personally I love this dress for celebrating the posterior by decorating it with a big ol' ruffle waterfall!"

And not to be outdone, here's a great 50s bubble dress from
Fast Eddie's Retro Rags. When Kim showed up with her reasons on why this was great, I had to include it. I have a similar one in my store, in green (with no bow), but never thought of it like Kim did: "It has a HUGE butt bow and full circle bubble skirt-- Nothing more flattering to an ass, than to completely hide it!"
That is, unless your ass is magical. Like mine.

I feel pretty, oh so pretty.........

Yep, I've been gone for a while. Life shows up, as they say, and I've been working, working, working. Oh, and sent the eldest off to school, started the next one in the community college here, and generally been running around like a chicken with my head cut off.

But yeah, sometimes I find something that just MUST be shared. We're still in the summer lull: no LOST yet (till February, then don't call me on Wednesday nights), no Dancing with the Stars (though I may have to boycott cause Joey didn't win -- damn those 13yos who voted for Apolo), and Project Runway isn't back yet -- though I think it's starting soon.

Generally, I've been in entertainment withdrawal. Till Saturday night, when dh and I went to a 70s disco party down the street. It's an annual thing, with a different theme every year. This year it was Studio 732, with disco digs, complete with a cage to dance in. DH went as a pimp, complete with platform boots, polyester pants, a disco shirt (repro, but it was the best I could do, and it was great), and gold chains. And yeah, he got in the cage for the first time during "Macho Man." With several video cameras going all around him.

Yep. He's shy.

By the end of the night, he was in the cage with 3 or 4 other women -- all from our church, in various states of tipsy. It was hilarious. One of them chased him around all night, trying to get him to dance with her. End of the night comes and she tries to lay one on him, in front of me and several others. He turned his head and she got him closer to the ear, then said "hey, call me sometime, I love to dance." Heads turned and they were all looking at me.

I just shrugged and said "he goes home with me," while the dh kissed his ring. He is, after all, taking me to Alaska in ten days. How can you NOT love him?

And if you need to FIND Alaska on a map, please do not ask this girl. Cause she, as a US American, has no clue. Just tell her to stand in the corner, look pretty, and for God's sake, don't talk:


But if you really DO want to know where the US is on a map, check out this map dress from Morning Glorious, on ebay. Maybe the US is on your left boob, but at least you'll never forget where it is.