Monday, January 31, 2005

All Things Trixie

Trixie here…or maybe I should say, “da Trixster,” or even Agent 004? Get it? 004? Four legs? Agent—ahem…Hey, I liked it, geeish.

Anyway, I’m blogging you because her royal big butt pulled a fast one on me. Oh yes, I know it’s hard for you all to believe, but she’s been a baddddd girl. (No offense to the sheep Queendom). She's gone and pulled the wool over my eyes (there again sheep, please do not send hate mail, k? It’s just a figure of speech).

What’d she do? Well, I’ll tell ya, she blocked my fan mail, that’s what. Yep, the old royal jealousy if you ask me. I mean everyone knows I get more fan mail than Miss Royal Redhead… Speaking of red, have you seen all the gray taking up residence in her hair lately? Holy Moly! What, did they stop making dye? Okay, I didn’t say that, you hear?

I ran into Rocky Raccoon just yesterday and he says to me, he says, “Trix old gal…what gives? The Rock here has sent you three questions sistah…I just knew you could help me and the missus, but nooooo, you’ve gotten too big for your britches now haven’t you, Miss “Dr. Doglittle?” I convinced Rocky I had no idea he’d even written and I’d check it out post haste.

I waited till the Queen entered her royal chambers for her nightly beauty treatments. Talk about wasted time, but I digress. Anyway, once out of sight, I checked the “blocked mail” on the computer and there before my eyes was Rocky Raccoon, Sammie the Grey, Pinkie the Pot-bellied Pig, and at least a dozen more. Even poor Eddie. Remember Eddie? He was the mixed-up dog that thought he was a cat? (What a smuck) I almost never got that dog set on the right paw. Anyway, I confronted da Queen and she slammed the bathroom door in my pretty face! Stupid, stupid Queen.

Don’t ever try to out-hateful me…you won’t win.

Any day now she should be receiving hundreds of emails and letters addressed to “Miss Lonely and desperate in Bama.” How do I know? Well, let’s just say that mentioning the inheritance she supposedly received from her late Uncle at Microsoft should prompt a few replies…well, that and the fact that words like “boy toy” and “something to spend my money on” might have also been used in the ad. What ad? Oh, I didn’t say? Why the one placed in EVERY SINGLE lonely-hearts magazine and club on the Internet.

Teehee…wahooo…haha……I AM a stinker, ain’t I? (Skunks, please do not send mail)

da Trixster…

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

All Things Gym

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Who knew?

Our company installed new gym equipment, all state-of-the-art, just for us, their super employees. (More like super-sized if you ask me.)

Anyway…a couple of us decided it was a good idea to join and become the lean, mean machines that we once were. Why, it would only take a few weeks to see the results and get us back on the road to being the goddess’s we were always meant to be. Again I say…who knew?

Lesson number one. If you joined a gym of ANY kind, buy “gym” clothes. Do not work out in bluejeans, you’ll regret it, and the inside of your legs will never heal. The T-shirt with, “I’m too sexy for my Mini-Van,” another no-no unless you don't mind laughter, hysterical laughter. And don’t even think of wearing those old sweatpants that have the holes in the you-know-where area. Gym people can be cruel.

Lesson number two. Staring at the gym hunk? Bad idea. His wife is close by, and she can bench press more than he can. Focus on the nerd. It may not be pretty, but it’s safer, and it WILL remind you of why you're there. If you don’t get in shape, he’s the one you’ll be dating.

Lesson number three. Gym people who tell you to push a little harder, or add some more weight to the bar are sadists. They want to see you cry. Do not listen to these people. Avoid them at all cost. Unless of course, they fall or pull a hamstring. Then laugh hysterically.

Lesson number four. Eating potato chips while on a treadmill is frowned upon, even if you offer to share. Who knew? However, you CAN sneak into the ladies room and go into one of the stalls. Crunch softly. Wipe mouth thoroughly, then reappear. Note: Potato chip bags are not bio-degradable…who knew? Gym people AND maintenance people can be mean.

Lesson number five. If you are leaving the gym after a good workout, and stopping by the local Taco Tavern, chances are you’re wasting your time. Know your limits. You can’t have it both ways. Choose one or the other. A body like Shania Twain, or Taco Tavern? You have to decide. And I won't EVEN say, "who knew?" Because now...

…munch…munch…I know.

Friday, January 14, 2005

All Things Celebrated


I woke up early, just like I've always done on my birthday.
You see...I think BIRTHDAYS should be extra special.

Now I'll admit that I do celebrate everyday, truth be when I first rise in the morning, I celebrate making it to the bathroom without wetting my pj's. What a dance!

But TODAY...on my BIRTHDAY, I've decided to raise the bar. I'm celebrating life. Precious life. Will you celebrate with me?

You see, along with becoming 54, I get to spread all this sage wisdom, (some people have another name for it) and people listen to me too because they figure, "hey, if she's managed to live this long, she's bound to know something." Well I do.

So here are some things I think WE should celebrate today, together... and not just on Birthdays, but every day.

You should celebrate

1. That extra change you found in the washer. You never know when you might need to really "phone a friend."

2. The way your dog/cat/whatever jumps up and down when you get home from work. I think I'll start doing the same thing when I see you from now on.

3. The fact that you woke up. Period. Can you say, "another chance?"

4. For your children or grandchildren. The internet couldn't hold everything I could say about these gifts.

5. Books. For the lovely, wonderful, exciting, thrilling, HUMOROUS world of books.

6. For ones, leather ones, straw ones...gimme...gimme...gimme...!

7. For coffee and chocolate. May heaven be filled with both.

8. For friends. You...and you...and you there. I love you all. The ones I've known all my life and who knows all of my darkest secrets (don't forget, that door swings both ways) and the ones I've never met eyeball-to-eyeball, but have bonded with here in cyberworld. I couldn't be any closer to you if we'd used superglue! One or two of you have even shared a brain with me...Diane? Maggie?

9. For elastic. Nuff said.

10. For forgiveness...because without it...well, let's see...what wisdom can I impart here? Without my friend....the cops would still be looking for the bodies. What? Hey, I write humor--Hello?

Happy Birthday to EVERYONE!

Queen Jaw Jaw

Sunday, January 09, 2005

All Things Flu

The Flu Season Or…Drugs are our friend

During the flu season, check with your doctor BEFORE taking ANY medications. There’s a reason they’re called “drugs.”

You feel super-human, invincible, and generous...GENEROUS is the key word here...

That is until they wear off…then you feel like you’ve been drugged thru the streets by your toenails. And why are all of your siblings in the driveway?

Drugs can make you do things like:

< See Elvis under the pile of clothes by the bed. Yesterday, it was Jimmy Hoffa…today Elvis…tomorrow is “beam me up" day. Right Scotty?

< Call factories where elastic is made and tell them how much you love them.

< Call all four of your siblings and tell them to come get:

--Oldest - The priceless antique broach that was handed down to you by your great-great-great-grandmother, the Cherokee Indian Princess.

--Sister number two – The $799.99 you’ve tucked away in the coffee can under the bed…between Jimmy and Elvis. Who needs to retire? Her boob job is much more important!

--Number 3 sister - You proclaim loudly, “Your son needs a car? Take mine. I’ll finish paying if off. Since he can’t get insurance anywhere, why not put him on MY policy? Oh peeshaw…I do what I can.”

--And baby sister - "Oh I insist!" How much can out-of-state tuition be anyway? After all, this IS her first year at Harvard...Does she need a car? Furniture? An off-campus apartment?

<You show up at your friend Liz’s house, in your pj’s, drooling from your beloved medications. She answers the door and you say, “I want you to have this” and proudly thrust the “donut” ring at her which was given to you by the hospital…back in 1974…to sit on, after giving birth. You’re feeling mighty proud of yourself for sharing. Obviously, she’s at a loss for words.

<You give your children the pin number to your credit cards, checking account, and 401K. You ask them to find more meds. Bring lots and lots. Life is a pillow. You’re so freakin’ happy.

<And last but certainly not least, you call your boss. Through your drug-induced giggles you rap, “

Yo, Boss Man…me-no-come-in. You pain in butt, doing drugs again.
Yo Boss Man…send money. Scotty’s here…beaming up-gotta go now honey.” Beezzzz...butabeez…beezzz butabeezz…butabeezz…beeezzz…