Cookie Monster

'Mother' could not curb her appetite for murder even when children were around last week. She has been hording christmas cookies in an undisclosed location and upon there demise she set them down on the counter for the blonde's discovery.

If you will notice she set them down, in such a manner, as to make the cookies look edible.

Submitted into evidence, photo 1
As you can see, the cookies look normal considering the blonde, whom did not have her contacts in, and in conjunction with early morning stammering without her morning coffee, she clearly saw decent cookies.

The blonde then on her second cup of morning coffee and with contacts in, decided to have another. As she reached for a cookie, she discovered a bad batch that was hideously hidden by the sheer manipulation of turning a bag over.

Submitted into evidence, photo 2
Clearly, you can see several cookies missing, that blondie ate, and with the bag turned upside down, you will see the mold infested cookies that were purposely disguised as an edible cookie by the defendant...AKA Mother.

The only defense 'Mother' offers; she claims mold is the organic version of penicillin in its purest form, and thus was trying to cure me and not kill me.

Hogwash, I say!!

Hogwash!!

I feel this travesty has gone on far enough, and I ask everyone outside their glass house to rule in favor of the blonde.

Repeatedly trying to kill a blonde is an offense worth punishing. I ask for no leniency in this matter.



The Blonde rests her crumbling case!!

Fashion in the Toilet

I have several outfits with dangly things on them

I like dangly clothes

Its just me

I do not, however, like them dangling

in the toilet


as I pee.

I am flushed with blonde moments!!

Holy Cow!!

My friend Dallas is in big doo doo. Well, he will be, because I have wanted a mini cow for awhile, and now I have found one!! Since I live in a snooty neighborhood with an association, I don't think my mini cow would go over very well. But Dallas has a ranch and I want to board my mini cow at his place.

I guess I should ask him before I buy one, but that would give him the chance to say NO.

You can't say no to a blonde when she really, really wants something.

Just ask my mom and sis!!

I remember in the 5th grade, I wanted the most beautiful butterfly shirt and my mom didn't buy it, or so I thought. I made my entire family a wreck about that blouse. Actually, my mother did buy the blouse and was holding it as an Easter surprise, but I did not know that, and I shed terror on the family. I was such a little heathen about it, my mom and sister pulled my blouse out of hiding and threw it at me, and said, "Here...we can't take it any more!"

I was so excited to see my shirt, that I failed to see the wreckage I made of my family.

I would like to say I am sorry, but I am not. I got my shirt and I loved it soooo much, I wore it out wearing it all the time. I think I proved to my family that it was worth the pain I caused. I was appreciative of that blouse and so I have nothing to apologize for.

Dallas, I want that mini cow just as bad as that blouse, so you are in a world of hurt if I can't use your ranch for my mini cow.

The Blonde is bovinely inspired to get her way!!

Can I have Candy?

Of course you can!!

My job as an Aunt, is to let my niece and nephew get a way with sheer murder, while in my presence, and then politely hand them back to mommy, after I have wittled away at their perfectly honed manners.

They have since left the building and its quiet without the children and the anarchy, of which I created with my simple arsenal of pandemonium; just a few bottles of coke, ice cream sandwiches, and the old bits of candy my Mother stashed away in a candy jar.

The candy came to my attention early in the morning, before my first cup of coffee. Knowing I am the commander in charge of sneaky behavior, the children came to me with the discovery. The candy was shaped like little fruits and vegetables. They did not say they found the candy, they merely asked if they could have the candy.

I said yes.

I am the Aunt and as far as I am concerned, they can have whatever they want because I know where to return them when the sugar kicks in.

Ah...Ah....Ah...the evilness of it all!

I love it!!

Now, to my defense, I thought the fruit and vegetable shaped candy belonged to my nieces Barbie kitchen playhouse. I did not realize it was candy my Mother hid away 15 years ago in a candy jar in the formal living area. It looked fine to me. Candy and Twinkies don't have an expiration date; plus what doesn't poison the munchkins, will make them stronger. Right?

I tried the candy, it was fine, and so I let the sugar rush begin.

Just as they were happily gobbling up the candy, my Mother comes down the hall.

Oh No!

Nanna went into a five minute discussion of why they can't eat the candy. Meanwhile, my sister over hears the lecture and comes barreling down the hall. She gives the children another five minute dissertation on stale candy and applied her nursing degree to thoroughly ruin the moment.

Then, Nanna and Martha Stuey attacked me with a stereophonic debate on, why I should not allow the children to have stale candy.

After 15 minutes of a non-stop dual-verbal beating, minus my cup of coffee, and the fact I was woken up at dawn by my precious little comrades...I got a tad gusty and guffawed off to my room at the end of the hall, to smother the ongoing commitment to describing botulism to children, and to proclaim my disgust in the older generation of paranoid parenting and grand parenting.

I was given a reprieve when they left me behind to go to the zoo, for the entire afternoon. I took that time to relish in the quietness of it all and to regroup with another disatisfactory decision, when the children came back.

Auntie V!

Auntie V!

What are we going to do now?!

Well, my little petunias. We are going to watch House Bunny downstairs, have several coca colas that have been sitting in the fridge for a year, and eat 3 month old candy kisses from the refrigerator.

Yeah!!!

You are our favorite Auntie!!

Auntie Blondie is way too sweet!!!

A Bone To Pick

How to explain a chicken leg to a child:

The Blonde Version:

Child, you know chicken nuggets. Well, this is a chicken drum, it has a bone in it. Just eat the meat around the outside and put the bone on your plate.


The neurotic, micro-managing older model Mom version:

Child! That is a chicken with a bone!
You can't eat that! You are only 4. Just because you know every name of the Star Wars characters and you have a full set of teeth and you can use the bathroom doesn't mean you can eat a chicken drum with 4 adults watching and sitting next to you in case you bite the bone and it could splinter into a thousand pieces and lodge into your tummy where it could start bleeding and then we would have to rush you to the hospital where they will have to take a large needle and sew up the holes that poked through your tummy because your Aunt was crazy enough to give you chinese chicken drum!!!

I would use punctuation but since my sister doesn't take a breath during her rants and I didn't want to lose the essence with coherent sentences...

The Blonde's eardrum is splintered!!!

And the Oscar Goes To...

The Blonde

for portraying the favorite Aunt. Its a short film, if it were any longer; I would be getting an award for suicidal Aunt.

It is a a shame that you cannot enjoy children without the parent, I would have had a great time without Martha Steuy and her non-stop nagging.


I am almost at the point of wanting to bash my beaten down body between those cell phone talking, menopausal, selfish, arrogant freaks of Motherhood in SUV's and minivans that float obnoxious bumper stickers on their rear window showing me and everyone else who does not give a crap that their precious Suzie is in band, and her baby Tommy is on the football team.

While I love my sister, she is the epitome of everything I can't stand in an older model Mother. During this week, I will go into more detail about the headache and the hives I have had to endure for an entire week of family reunion time.

But for now, I need to stick my head in the oven before they get back from the zoo.

Blondes will never do a sequel!!!

My Favorite Day

Its get drunk, turn up tunes, and pass the rainy grey day away, with fake guitar, fabulous emotions, and crappy thoughts on men.

Today, I was confronted with the fact that one of my gents doesn't sleep with girls that sleep with other guys. But it is perfectly acceptable for him to carry on goose behavior, while tossing the gander to the dark ages.

Who does he think he is kidding?

Yes, he is wealthy...big deal!! So is every man I date!!

Dating men with money is like window shopping. They will parade you around things that you want, but they make it clear, that its not yours...so where is the prize in that?!!

I am a twenty first century biatch and I know the rules of the game...I am not born under 30 years ago and I don't think I want to be. Why would I want to go through another idiot period of believing in the fools that show me around the top of their mountain, only to be marched down it and told I am not worthy.

Guess what?

It is you who is not worthy of me!!

Your so roped up in what you have, that you believe that is all you have to offer.

How sad because you dont even offer that beyond the visual.

I have learned to live with nothing and so your fortune means nothing!!

Go find someone who cares...I will float the cell phone bill.

Leave me alone, please.

I, like the rest of the world sit and look at our wish magazines like Vogue and ultimate real estate catalogs. Its all non-fiction and I, like everyone else, can get lost in all its dreamy glory.

But I wake up and see the truth.

If a man thinks he is the bomb, because he represents the pics from a mag I read in passing, it is beyond my rolling eyes.

Millions of peeps pick up rag mags to see a life they only dream of, even if its a life of turmoil...its a life that affords the famous and wealthy the few days needed to cry and pout at their leisure until they are ready to face the world again. That is what makes the average Joe envious of these made up mag lives...not the money, but the money that affords a break, when your feeling down.

In the real world...you can't sneeze without thinking your retirement has just been staked.

I hurt thinking about the fact that we bailed out the top 10 % while the bottom 90% is so tired in their struggle to pay the bills, that they read the newspaper, as if its another Paris Hilton story, without standing up to the atrocities and persecuting the men responsible for their current situation.

Won't anyone stand up?!

I am beginning to dislike the wealthy for throwing their arrogance in my face. Take your wannabe french biatch attitude with the wigs and stuff it up your pampered arse.

I have been in this dating arena so long, I know all the moves, and bragging about what you have doesn't bring me closer to having what I need, so spare me...please!!

You think because you have money, you automatically win?

If that were the case, all the wealthy and the famous would be in a state of glee, and Barnes and Noble would be short on biographies of the distraught, poor, little, rich me stories that so many surfs love to read.

And Marie Antoinette would have died with her head on!


The Blonde needs a stronger entitlement plaque remover!!!

Kiss And Tell

Never...but I will spill the beans on my trip to Horseshoe Bay for V day.

Horseshoe Bay's Marriott has about as much class and customer service as a snail's shell. The wallpaper and flooring leading into the rooms will make you dizzy, even without the haze of wine. Your better off jet setting to a Mexico Beach.

I talked to several couples that were there for the valentine weekend and they waited 3 hours for dinner. They would have left but since it was a weekend package, they wanted their moneys worth. I don't blame them but I would have left and gone to the yacht club for dinner.

I loved the coziness of the yacht club bar and restaurant, it was the company sharing the bar that made me want to gag. Men, bragging to other men about what they do and how much they make. My theory is, if your alone on Valentines, in the middle of know where and you talk about thousands and not millions...you are nothing to brag about.

Anyhoo,

My date and I went back to the room for a little 'light reading', and afterward we decided to trail down to the bar and sit outside by the water before going back to our 'reading'. We tried to get someone to help us light the heat lamp, give us matches, and serve us drinks...forget it.


We were on our own.

No apology from management, as a matter of fact, Benji, the manager actually had an attitude and said he talked to several tables and they were fine. What Benji failed to mention is he was hanging with his regulars at the bar and making sure they were taken care of while the rest of the weekend guests, were left thinking they won't make Horseshoe Bay Marriott a second mistake.

I gently walked Benji over to several tables and asked the couples that weren't regulars, how was their stay. One woman grabbed Benji's arm and would not let go until she filled him with all of her complaints. As I walked a way feeling satisfied someone was getting heard, a petite and leathered she devil cronie of Benji's, grabbed my arm and asked who was I?

I told her to kindly remove her claws and that I was the one who was going to make sure the resort lost a star in their rating.

Horseshoe Bay is a great area if you never left Texas, can't afford to leave Texas, or like the Holiday Inn.

Blonde have plenty of lip service!!!