TGI Monday!

Yes, I’m serious. Monday is the new Friday (at least for me!)

When LT Fromage is home, we spend the weekends sleeping in, eating enormous breakfasts and watching Netflix snuggled up on the sofa. Sometimes we go out or take the dogs to the park. Once in a while we’ll even make our way to Topeka or Kansas City.

But LT Fromage is still in the ‘stan (for now!), sooo, it’s silly to cook up a giant breakfast and I can’t handle both dogs at the park simultaneously. Home alone, my days sort of run together anyway; every day is a weekend for me now, except when it comes to going out…

Monday: ½ margaritas
Tuesday: ½ margaritas
Wednesday: $5 carafes of sangria
Thursday: $5 martinis*

*We're super classy, as you can see, ever see a martini with 5 straws? I didn't think so.

Friday and Saturday: No drink specials anywhere, crowded bars and no parking spots.

As you can see, with our husbands away (thus, not rising before the sun to see them off to PT), “girls night” has become a midweek activity and is no longer practiced on the weekends, making Monday the new Friday amongst my social circle.

Don’t judge. We’re not alcoholics, we’re bargin shoppers.

You And Me Baby Ain’t Nothing But Mammals

(not my photo... it is likley that there was in fact, a bridal keg stand earlier in the evening)

A few things:

1. I’ve been stood up for girl-dates twice in one week. Which basically sucks.

2. I’ve also been asked to dance twice, at the only 2 bars I’ve been to. Which hasn’t happened, erm, ever. (Flattering though!)

3. Where I’m going with this post: I am too old for house parties.

I suppose I’d never actually been to a “house party”. I guess when I thought of the term, it brought to mind situations where very few in the group were actually old enough to buy alcohol, thus bought lots of cheap canned beer and invited all of their under-age friends over to listen to music and drink crappy booze.

Last weekend, after I got stood up... the second time... (Please note: I waited 2 freakin’ hours for this girl, who then cast me as the bee-ach when I asked if she wanted to hang out or just cancel. Real cool, but whateves) Vagina Girl invited me out to a house party to cheer me up.

Things wrong with this scenario:

1. My friend is blog-named Vagina Girl. And she earned this tittle.

2. Vagina Girl and I have both been able to purchase alcohol for some time, thus should never have to find ourselves in a situation where there is canned beer and mixed drinks in slurpee cups.

3. Vagina Girl and I both wore hooded sweaters…. (erm… “hoodies”. Sorry. LT Fromage and mom have been trying to teach me the proper term for some time now. Hoodies. Not hooded sweaters. Anyway….) We were very under dressed because there was a girl there in, I kid you not, her Wedding Gown.

Apparently, The Bride had just come from, surprise!, her wedding. The groom was there too, along with some of the attendants. (Note: This was NOT a reception. It was, in fact, a mere house party) Want to know where they got married just hours before? A bar. Yes. So I guess going from the reception to a house party wasn’t too weird for them. It was weird for me though. I’m not sure I’ll ever forget the image of a done-up, brand new bride chugging a can of Bud Light in a koozy while we danced to favorites like “Ain’t Nothing But Mammals” (You know the song… “So let’s do it like they do on the discovery channel”) in someone’s crappy living room plastered with posters of varieties of Shots and sex positions.

Vagina Girl and I sat in folding chairs at the beer pong table in the kitchen, made that face, you know, the one that says “What the F#(K are we doing here?” and said our goodbys to the guests, including the now-quite-drunk-on-cheap-beer happy couple. We thought about watching a movie after we left, but as it was close to midnight, it was far past both of our bedtimes.

26 years old is less than 8 weeks away, no more house parties for me. I think I’ll stick to my knitting and Game Show Network from now on. Let’s admit though, that it makes for much better fodder than my latest Angry Birds high score.

The Wheels on the Bus go Round and Round

I don’t like public transportation. I grew up in a town of 112, so, as you can imagine, there wasn’t much need for taxis and such. Even after growing up and moving away, I never did hop on a bus, hail a cab or set foot on a subway. The longer I went without trying it, the more frightening the idea became. Then, when I was 23, newly engaged to LT Fromage and spending New Year’s Eve with my friend, Pat, I did it. I rode the light rail. Not because I wanted to, but because Pat lived near the station and we opted to avoid traffic and possible DUIs. When it came down to actually using public transportation, I decided I would have preferred risking the DUI.

I hate crowds. I hate not being in control. Droves of people crammed into a fast-moving bus-train thing that stops, well, who knows where it stops! certainly not when I want it to stop, and heaven forbid I have to actually change busses…. What the eff was I thinking? Of course, the boys thought it was a wonderfully funny game to “forget” what stop we needed to get off, or what route we would take to get home. Thanks, fellas.

After the night out, there were tens of thousands of people waiting to get back on the light rail. Why? I sure didn’t want back on! But we waited. A little drunk and among more people than I’d ever seen in my life, a fight broke out right beside us. The boys thought it was exciting. I found myself sitting on the wet, dirty curb, rocking and covering my ears until it was over.

Yes. Totally sitting on the curb, covered with vomit, gum, dirt. Eyes squeezed shut, plugging my ears and rocking back and forth.

I don’t do well in crowds. I don’t do well when I’m not in control. I don't do well on busses.

Eff public transportation.

What Were We Thinking?

I thought about calling this post “Finally! A picture taken by a professional and not that crappy phone camera! And, no vermin on her head!” but went with this instead.

Don’t you just love candid shots?

*picture from my sissy’s wedding in August.

**Cut me a break, I’m home from work today feeling no beuno, it’s after 2 and I’m still on the couch.This is all you get. Back tomorrow.

There are Always Consequences

(Photo credits not mine. D@MN I forgot to bring my camera. You get the idea…)

Last night we had to make a quick wal-mart run. Yeah. We shop at wal-mart. Don’t bother trying to tell me why it’s wrong, and I already know it’s kind of white trash, but I’m all about saving a few bucks. So sue me. No, really, don’t. Please. I haven’t saved enough bucks to make it worth your time, I promise!

Anyway.

LT Fromage and I were both in sort of silly moods. This is actually normal for us, so I’m not sure why I feel the need to mention it. The crazies were probably intensified just a little by the beer he had at supper, and the glass (er, 3) of wine I had before we left.

*easily distracted this morning. bear with me*

LT Fromage insisted on pushing the cart. Usually I like to push, but he got it first (wrestled it away from me). Near the end of our list, we passed by the electronics department where LT Fromage began grazing the displays with our cart. Why? “Because I can’t do it in the car! Here there are no consequences!”

He hadn’t even finished his statement when he totally plowed over a printer and ink display!

Which I’m saddened to see doesn’t seem as funny in type as it did when it happened. But trust me, it was uh-mazing!

We laughed like kids while we scrambled to reassemble the stuff we knocked down before this overweight, waaaaay to serious wal-mart employee comes running (well, as fast as he could run. More like a brisk walk) “Is everyone ok?!” LT Fromage assured him we were fine, I was too busy laughing like a hyena to answer. “Are you sure? Do we need to file a report?”

Do tell, what would that report say?

“We were sideswiped by a gray cart, we didn’t get a plate number but it appeared
to be a male driving. They pushed us into this display and then fled the scene.
No medical assistance was necessary at the time. No property damage was
sustained (we put it all back… wrong, I’m sure, but we tried) and the cart seems
to be running fine, despite the accident”

I guess you had to be there.

Ah, I love being married.

Tips for a Successful Christmas Party: Army Style

Having a blast at my company's Christmas party in the photo booth on Friday night

Looking just as happy in the car after the Army party. Not because we were having fun. Because it was over.

A sign in roster as you enter the party doesn’t set the vibe “this is a fun, relaxed, enjoyable get together to celebrate the holiday”. It wasn’t a guest book. Don’t try to cover it up; we all knew what it was.

Don’t assign your guests blocks of time. Invitation should not read “Your hour is from 2-3pm”. You’ve got a massive house with plenty of room to accommodate everyone, and while we sure as H3LL didn’t want to stay even a whole hour, it would have been nice to not be kicked out when “our time was up”.

Speaking of invitations; e-vites are ok for, umh, like Girls Night Out or Super Bowl Parties, but not for your formal, brigade Christmas party. Tacky cheap A$$.

You may not want kids there, and hey, that’s ok, I wouldn’t either, but wording it this way: “No kids are allowed” is a little harsh. Especially when your freakin’ rugrats/devil spawn are running around screaming the whole time.

Dress blues (The Army version of a Tux)? Get serious. We had to get all dressed up for a stupid house party (where we could only stay 1 hour) in the middle of a Saturday afternoon? I wouldn’t show up in sweats, but formal wear was a little over the top.

Special note to the Commander’s Wife: Look, I’m face blind but even I don’t make my guests wear identification. You’re just lazy, bee-ach. With your scheduling, you shouldn’t have had more than half a dozen wives there at a time anyway. Instructing the men to “find the name tag that properly identifies your spouse” isn’t polite. On the plus side, at least we weren’t referred to as “dependants” for once.

Thank God for the after party. Casual dress, real food, lots of booze, music, beer pong and stick on mustaches. We did still use name tags, but we were more creative with things like “FUCK!NG Reindeer” or “Chief Elf”. No one was required to “properly identify their spouse” and you didn’t have to leave until you wanted to (which for us, was when I started throwing up in the yard).

These tips brought to you by a bitter Army Wife, who declines to properly identify herself at this time.

(Excuse the bitterness, a little bit of Grinch is emerging, but with the obligatory attendance to that so-called party in the past, my mood should lighten in no time!)

Be sure to check in tomorrow for the very first Lady Fromage GIVE AWAY!

D@MN it Feels Good to be a Gangsta

One night in December, after an evening of pizza, Wii and lots of drinking with our couple friends S & J (My best Non Sucky Army Wife friend), we met “Gangsta Gangst”, J’s alter ego.
We had a lot of laughs at his “gangsta name”, because J is not, in fact, a “gansta”, not even close. He wears sweaters and watches Food Network. LT Fromage also wears sweaters and we're also Food Network junkies, so the 4 of us can discuss the Iron Chefs for hours. It’s no surprise that we’ve become such good friends. Try as we might, none of us are quite gangtas, though.

I began to feel jealous, if fellow sweater-wearing, Food Networking-watching, early-bedtimer , J could have a Gangsta name, why couldn’t I? LT Fromage said he would work on it.
A few days later, driving home from a Monday night date (We try to get some good Margaritas….er, I mean Mexican food, on Mondays), it came to him. “I’ve got it!” he said, “Lady Fromage.” Of course!

I love, LOVE, loooovvvveeeee cheese. LT Fromage claims that if I was an animal, I would be a mouse. (Although a good friend once suggested badger… Aw, that’s mean. Oh, and then those boys MOO’d at me, so maybe a cow, also... But I digress).

When LT Fromage is away, most of my suppers consist of an array of cheeses (I always keep a minimum 6 selections stocked in the fridge at all times), jellies and jams, crackers and breads. Pair that with a bottle, er, glass of wine and I’m in heaven. Our older cat, Garrett also loves cheese, so when LT Fromage is not home, Gare and I can be found indulging on delectable dairy products together while we watch trashy MTV reality shows. (LT Fromage does not delight in cheese to the extent that I do; he prefers meals that are slightly more… diverse and substantial. He also doesn’t enjoy trashy MTV specials. His loss)

On a recent drive home from St. Louis LT Fromage took me to The Cheese Store. This is exactly what it sounds like. That is, Heaven.

I limited myself to 5 cheeses; however I sampled each and every one in the store (some more than once) My final purchases:

*Havarti with Dill (LT Fromage's favorite)
*White Cheddar with Onion and Garlic
*Cajun Cheddar Curds
*Smoked Mozzarella Curds
*White and Orange Cheddar Curds

Other favorites:

*Goat cheese. Plain ol’ is my favorite, but it’s also delicious with herbs and other add-ins.
*Gorgonzola. I make a fab-u-lous sauce to go over steak (or Portabella mushrooms, for me), and I always buy an extra tub so I can snack on the tasty chunks while I cook.
*White Queso. Pretty dee-lish, when you get it at an authentic Mexican restaurant!
*Brie. I even named a pet rat this, once. If ever you have an opportunity to eat baked brie, try it! I promise you’ll eat every last bite!
*Swiss. One word, Fondue.
*Smoked Gouda. O.M.G…. Oh, yes, yes yes!
I’m also a sucker for- this is embarrassing – Velveeta. Sorry, I can’t help it. Heat it up with a can of Rotell, you’ll love it too.

And there you have it. The backstory of my cheesy name. Now you know, and knowing is all the power (*wink *wink, LT Fromage!).

Lite-Brite, Lite-Brite, Turn on the magical shining light!

Last week LT Fromage and I took a beginners pistol class. LT Fromage was kind enough to tell me when we arranged it “I’m sure there are things I can learn,” but of course there weren’t. I think he may have actually outshot the instructor, but I had a good time and discovered that I am actually a better one handed shooter than I am when I use both hands. Who knew? Anyway, I got to wear my pink earmuffs, shoot some paper plates and see some cows in the adjacent field and all in all we had a fun day out.

But what does this have to do with a lite-brite? (I know you’re thinking “Where the eff is she going with this story?”)

We had a mega long lunch break, and after we hit up our favorite burger place we still had an hour before class resumed. During that time LT Fromage got a hair cut while I bought yet another pair of sunglasses (our German shepherd keeps eating them) and a cow pen that moos when you push on his head.

So far, there were already multiple high points of this day:

1. Sharing a mid-week day off with LT Fromage. Extra fun because we were shooting

2. The NRA teacher was named Myron Calhoun, which is pretty much a FREAKIN’ AWESOME NAME, right? And he was totally this cute little old man with a big old stocking cap! He even wore a huge name tag, even though we were the only 2 people in his class. Too cute! I have a thing for little old men. We’ll talk about that another time.

3. Lunch at So Long, which included fried pickles and a green chili “burger” with onion rings

4. The above mentioned cow pen. Which totally makes me look like a 6 year old but who gives a D@MN (Using bad words helps me not feel like a kid. Kids can't sware.) Also I got a pink cow eraser. Score!

On our way back to class after the eternal lunch break, we stopped at this funky second hand shop. There it was: The lite-brite. (I told you it was coming)

Pretty much the coolest toy ever. Except maybe Little People. I have a deep rooted love for those, too.

I went a little crazy when I saw it. Ok, more than a little. I may have caused a bit of a scene. But, c’mon, it’s a lite-brite! Who doesn’t remember this from their childhood? I’ll tell you who. LT Fromage.

Boy, he missed out!

I probably should have bought it (It was only ten bucks!) so he could try it out; that is, if I could share it long enough for him to have a turn.

So if you’re in the mood for some lite-brite fun now, because I sure am, I found a website where you can play lite-brite for free. It's not quite the same, but at least it means I won’t be digging those little pegs out of sofa cushions.

If you’ve got an urge for Little People now, well, you’re on your own.

The Answers You’ve Been Waiting For

I’m sure you all spent the last 72 hours wondering “Are kids more frightened of the Easter Bunny than the bear suit?” and “How many trick-or-treaters will she have?” (Yeah, right. I hope you had better things to do than think of me in a bunny suit.)

The wait is over. Here’s what went down.


The bunny suit, which was definitely an Easter bunny, by the way, even without the vest, is much less threatening to kiddos than the brown bear suit that I wore when I worked for the bank. I did still manage to make a few kids cry, but more often than not, they wanted a picture or a hug.


*Besides the warm fuzzy feeling I got in my heart from making all those children smile, there was a very, very warm feeling inside that suit for the 3 freakin’ hours I was trapped inside of it. I’m pretty sure I sweated off like 20 pounds. I rewarded myself with a to-go order of green curry on the way home though, so it was totally worth it.

Due largely to the fact that I purchased a minimal amount of candy, namely kinds that I would like to eat myself, we had a multitude of costumed trick-or-treaters come to our door. Eff. I actually had to resort to handing out left over Twizzlers from last year. I hope those were still ok… It was that or pennies. I know the Twizzlers, even if stale, would taste better than a dirty old coin.

LT Fromage and I did not wear our pirate costumes on Saturday. After spending the prior evening as the White Rabbit, AKA Eater Bunny, I was costumed out. My friend S and I did end up dressing in the same outfit (Dark jeans, black heels, black t-shirt) so we decided we were going as each other. We had a fun time, even though we only stayed out until about quarter after midnight. Look, people. I’m old. I am now in the 25-34 age bracket, I can’t be stayin’ out all night anymore. I should have been at home doing a cross word puzzle or something.

And the ultimate weekend highlight….

Hearing Joey Lawrence on the 90’s Hits Station on XM Radio on Sunday afternoon.

I immediately had to text my sister “oooommmgg! Remember how crazy we used to be about him? What the H3LL were we thinking back then?” But then again, I was tuned into the 90’s hits that afternoon and I actually listened to the whole song, so maybe I haven’t come as far as I thought….

I Used to Dance on the Street Corner...

I’m slightly embarrassed to admit LT Fromage and I may be going out this weekend. Part of me cries “Seriously! We are so too old for this…” but then the other part of me, the decision making part, says “Then what the hell did we buy those pirate costumes for?” We will not be tromping around door-to-door with pillow cases, however. We will be celebrating in the more adult fashion, like, at the bar. And then, on Sunday night we’ll be really adult and hand out candy to the neighbors’ kids. Last year we spend something like $796 dollars on candy (slight exaggeration) and had something like half a dozen costumed kids show up. We ate most of it, but our orange pumpkin bowl is still full of treats, the picked over ones, of course; I think there’s only Twizzlers and Pixy Stix left. I actually quite enjoy the latter, but they are likely not very good 12 months after the purchase date…

This year, I picked up a bag of peanut M&Ms (funny story about those….*), Reeses and Kit Kats. Also some hokey chocolate balls with eye ball wrappers and chocolate coins with pumpkin wrappers. Basically, things that, if not sought after by 9-year-olds, will be enjoyed by LT Fromage and myself. Mostly myself. Especially the Reeses. Which I may or may not have been snacking on….

*When I was a very little Fromage, my grandma gave me my first peanut M&Ms, until that time I’d only ever seen the standard ones. My family thought I must not like the peanuts, since I was sucking all of the chocolate off and leaving the filler in a pile. When questioned, I explained, “I’m saving the seeds so I can plant an M&M tree!” Smart kid, that little Lady Fromage….

To prepare myself for donning a costume this Saturday night, I’ve volunteered to spend this evening dressed as a white rabbit at my company’s Fun House. The theme, I’m told, is Alice in Wonderland. However, the box depicts the rabbit suit in a pastel vest and a few décor items that have passed by so far have been in the same Easter colors. Either someone has their holidays mixed up or we’re going extremely low budget and reusing supplies from this spring. Regardless, I’ll be hiding under a giant furry bunny costume, which thank God, hides my face.

This will not be my first appearance in an animal costume. I have experience as a brown bear, advertizing for Bank of the West. Sometimes I danced on the street corner with a “Free Checking” sign. Less often, but much preferred to dancing on the corner (The ONLY experience I have doing anything from a street corner…), I attended events where the majority of children were terrified instead of entertained. I imagine a 5’6” rodent in a vest will be less threatening than the bear, but I won’t know for a few hours yet. I’ll let you know on Monday