Tag Archives: “Old Dog New Tits”

‘Tis the season to eat bacon ….. Fa la la la la … la la la la ….


The kids will be home for the holidays after tomorrow and, thanks to a little setback a few weeks ago, I’m still way behind on my Christmas preparations. So, I spent the day shopping. For everyone and everything. And have I mentioned that I don’t have the shopping gene? What an exhausting and debilitating pain in the ass. I am one weary woman.

One of my stops was at World Market, of course. I love that place. I can get anything from a handcrafted quilt made in Jaipur, India with a design dating back to the early 1500s to the much touted Mo’s Bacon Bar made by Vosges Haut Chocolat.

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Seriously, it’s $7 a bar … and eating it leaves you emotionally conflicted. The decadently rich chocolate revs you up like a hummingbird … bringing on feelings of euphoria, releasing endorphins and elevating your seratonin levels.  While the hedonistically delicious bacon sedates you like a Thanksgiving turkey, bringing on feelings of sluggishness, salt-related bloating and the need for a good nap.

Plus you’re left saddled with the knowledge that somewhere a pig died in the name of your novelty snack.


As my mother-in-law says, “Bacon is God’s way of showing us he loves us.”

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ODNT’s Answer to The 12 Days of Christmas


If this holiday-themed retrospective was on 1970s variety show television, it would have been done as a montage-style flashback. You would have been treated to lavish Bob Mackie-esque costuming, elaborate set changes and interstitial vocal performances by Country & Western guest stars like Dolly Parton and Glen Campbell. There would be Osmond-quality sketch comedy featuring such talents as Rich Little, Don Rickles and Ruth Buzzi. Plus, there would very likely be ice dancing. Unfortunately, you’ve only got me. And my trusty sidekick, the MacBook Pro. But we’ve worked hard for you tonight on this nostalgic walk down memory lane. Won’t you join us as we take a look at some of our many laughs together here at ODNT? (cue the cheesy music please) ….

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me a website called ODNT.

On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me two guest writers and a website called ODNT.

On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me three daughter posts, two guest writers and a website called ODNT.

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me four bitchy Barbies, three daughter posts, two guest writers and a website called ODNT.

On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me five boob doctors, four bitchy Barbies, three daughter posts, two guest writers and a website called ODNT.

On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me six doppelgängers, five boob doctors, four bitchy Barbies, three daughter posts, two guest writers and a website called ODNT.

On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me seven sets of man boobs, six doppelgängers, five boob doctors, four bitchy Barbies, three daughter posts, two guest writers and a website called ODNT.

On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me eight Katy searches, seven sets of man boobs, six doppelgängers, five boob doctors, four bitchy Barbies, three daughter posts, two guest writers and a website called ODNT.

On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me nine boob occasions, eight Katy searches, seven sets of man boobs, six doppelgängers, five boob doctors, four bitchy Barbies, three daughter posts, two guest writers and a website called ODNT.

On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me ten funny trip quotes, nine boob occasions, eight Katy searches, seven sets of man boobs, six doppelgängers, five boob doctors, four bitchy Barbies, three daughter posts, two guest writers and a website called ODNT.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me eleven tweets on mole rats, ten funny trip quotes, nine boob occasions, eight Katy searches, seven sets of man boobs, six doppelgängers, five boob doctors, four bitchy Barbies, three daughter posts, two guest writers and a website called ODNT.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me twelve* boob job experts, eleven tweets on mole rats, ten funny trip quotes, nine boob occasions, eight Katy searches, seven sets of man boobs, six doppelgängers, five boob doctors, four bitchy Barbies, three daughter posts, two guest writers and a website called ODNT.

* Because I now fancy myself a bit of an expert, too.

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A post about Grinches, and childhood TV – As great for my kids, as it was for me


I caught How the Grinch Stole Christmas on the Cartoon Network with my girl tonight.  Like most of the planet, it’s one of my perennial holiday favorites and I never miss the chance to watch it at least once every Christmas season.  I’ve worked hard to get my kids hooked on the classics like this one as well as Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, A Charlie Brown Christmas, Santa Claus is Coming to Town and (cult-favorite) A Year without a Santa Claus.  If you’re within ten years of my age in either direction, you should be able to recite any line from any character from any of these shows.  Or, unlike me, you were not watching enough television.

But tonight, we’re talking about the TV Grinch, which is forty-five years old this year.  Or rather WHO is forty-five years old.  And speaking of Whos, how hideously adorable were those little creatures?  Sort of like how an ugly pug puppy somehow manages to be cute.  I have to think Cindy Lou Who grew up to win a great many beauty contests in Whoville.  She was precious and looked nothing like her fellow townspeople.  Of course, that could have also been exactly the kind of thing to make her an outcast.  Perhaps she was the Marilyn Munster of her infinitesimal little neighborhood.

Yes, I said infinitesimal.

Because, as we learned in Seuss/Geisel’s earlier Horton Hears a Who!  (published in 1954, a few years earlier than the original Grinch book in 1957), the entire community of Whoville was actually located on a speck of dust.  The writers sort of dropped that detail when the Christmas special was adapted from his books.  Seriously, how menacing would this “Grinch” be when you realized you needed a microscope to see his dastardly deeds?

Still, he managed to be a pretty scary dude to me as a child.  Never mind the fact that he was voiced by Frankenstein himself, Boris Karloff.  The first few times you watched the show and you didn’t know what was coming, you were thinking … This isn’t a Christmas show.  This is a horror film.  Why are my parents letting me watch this terrifying, dentally-challenged Yeti wreak his terror on the sweet, unwitting, holiday spirit-filled residents in the valley below?  And then, towards the end, the Grinch finally smiled and you saw that he had eyelashes … and dimples, albeit ugly ones.  And that overly frou-frou brass frame that illustrated the size of his tiny heart is busted when it explodes with his newfound holiday cheer. So finally more relaxed, you were able to exhale and unclench, and you thought … Okay, my parents aren’t as irresponsible as I feared.  I will now be able to sleep at night, knowing that Max didn’t fall to his untimely death off the side of Mount Crumpit.  That would have been an absolutely terrible thing for a child to see.

Of course, there are some other little details and bits of trivia about the show I wanted to mention. (It wouldn’t be an ODNT entry without a list lately, right?) …

The opening song in the show is called ‘Welcome Christmas.’  I think my brother and I just always called it ‘Pahoo Doray.’ Ah, Seuss and his delightfully inventive vocabulary. Here’s just one version of the lyrics I found for the song. http://www.allthelyrics.com/lyrics/dr_seuss/welcome_christmas-lyrics-1146415.html

Of course, the most renowned song from the special is ‘You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.’ Also know as the second song on my iPod’s Christmas playlist.  It was sung by Thurl Ravenscroft, who was accidentally uncredited for this ridiculously memorable work as well as for his work as the original voice  for Kellogg’s Tony the Tiger. For fifty years.  Stupid early Hollywood robbed this old man.  I feel sorry for him and, if he were here, I would give him a hug.

Even more interesting vocal work comes from June Foray, who did the voice for Cindy Lou Who. Dubbed (yes, I picked that word on purpose) the female Mel Blanc, this woman has done the voices of Rocky (Rocky & Bullwinkle), Granny (Warner Brothers) and Karen (Frosty the Snowman … Frosty! That’s another good one.) And she was the voice of the original ‘Chatty Cathy’ doll.

Oh, and I stole this quote directly from Wikipedia … A television special called Halloween Is Grinch Night, a prequel created by DePatie-Freleng Enterprises, aired on ABC in 1977, 11 years after the Christmas special. This special involved a tale of the Grinch coming down to scare the Whos every Halloween. Though less successful than the original, it was awarded an Emmy.  …….. I would so love to see his undoubtedly crappy prequel.

And my last comment for the night … not because I’m really finished here but because I’m tapped out for the day … does anyone remember fearing a mustard-colored grinch from their childhood? When did this weasel become green?  Was it just my maladjusted television set as a youth?  Mom? Dad?

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Fun Facts about My Surgery Recuperation


If you lay around in bed and eat nothing but comfort food for weeks, you can in fact somehow lose weight.  Why have I been dieting and exercising all these years?

You shouldn’t address Christmas cards while on strong medication.  Or else some of your friends will get multiple holiday greetings and others will get none.

A Mylar balloon, if well cared for, can last well over two weeks in a good home.  I have received no compensation from balloonplanet.com, birthdayinabox.com or any other balloon purveyors for this endorsement.

Try as you might, even if you unsubscribe to every piece of electronic junk mail you receive, that crap will still follow you.  I guess there’s no escaping the Nigerian millionaire who needs my help in transferring his money or, you know, Lillian Vernon.

I’ve got at least twelve outfits that I can work without a bra.  True, some of them are pajamas, but still. Good to know.

When you haven’t worn make-up for weeks, any amount of it will make you feel like a drag queen.  Yes, I used that joke yesterday.  It’s funny ’cause it’s true.  So, I’m using it again, damn it!

I now have a bit of a phobia of high heels … for fear of a painful spill. It’s Mary Jane flats and (shudder) tennis shoes, all the time.  I must shed this fear before holiday parties.

I haven’t cooked a bite of food since November.  Seriously, there has been enough food delivered to my doorstep to feed an army.  Obviously, I have an amazing support system of friends. Oh, but my family is going to be SO disappointed when the dinner choice returns to El Paso taco kit or Hot Pockets.

The red, very alcohol-y body wash they give you as surgical prep also makes a great leg shaving lubricant.  Although its red pigmentation makes it hard to distinguish from blood and thus to determine if you’ve broken the skin with the razor. Which could be problematic, so it’s a good thing that the solution is “alcohol-y.”

The adhesive used on modern day surgical bandages should be used for brick-laying, dental repair or possibly even advanced rocket construction.  It’s been 14 days and I’m still sporting some of this gunk on my back.

That dry shampoo stuff our grandmothers talked about all this time really does work.  Alright, so I already knew that.  This stuff is great.  I’m gross and I’ve been using it for years!

When I first posted my good news (the benign verdict) on Twitter, I lost 6 followers within 60 seconds. I’m guessing the drama has gone out of my story???

The average rating for my post about my benign verdict was four out of five stars, meaning that some of you rated it three or less.  Okay, now you’re just being mean.

When you don’t do anything meaningful with your hands for two weeks, you realize that your nails have never looked more beautiful.  Of course, the second you’re upright again, they split, crack and fall off your fingertips in sad little shards of their former glory.  So, take pictures!

Sleeping begets more sleeping.  Honestly, if you don’t get your ass up eventually, you might as well commit yourself to a lifetime of taking all your meals and visitors in your bed.  Sure, that sounds good now, but I think most of you would eventually get bored. Most.

A purple pillow pet makes for an excellent coughing-and-protecting-your-gut apparatus.  They’re also excellent listeners and well-skilled in the ancient art of feng shui.  My remote control, Chapstick and Kleenex box have never been in greater harmony with the universe.  (Okay, NOW who’s being mean?)

When you’re confined to your bed, you don’t watch TV nearly as much as you’d think.  I would have expected that it’s all I would have done.  And yet, some days the set didn’t even go on. Pathetic. What was I thinking?!!?

Your cat doesn’t care that you’ve just had surgery and will treat you in the same crappy manner as always.  He thinks his ‘tough love’ method will work but I think it’s put a wall up between us that will be hard to break down.

Narcotic pain medication combined with surgery can wreak havoc on your digestive system, making for a very irregular lifestyle. Don’t you think that’s some information I would like to know???

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From wearing a bra again to remembering to pay it forward, today was a long day


I left the house again today.  This time with a friend … to meet other friends … at a holiday lunch thing for moms who are fool enough to serve as president of their children’s school’s PTA.  If you’ve been paying attention, that fool was me last year, along with my friend, Ashley.  So, this year, we’re Past Presidents of the organization.  And, yes, it is just as glamorous as it sounds.  Sure, we don’t get to live in the palatial estate the school made available to us last year but we do have the protection of secret service agents for ourselves and our families for the rest of our lives.

I knew I needed to look decent today.  Like a girl anyway.  So, I took a shower and did a dry shampoo of my hair.  (Our grandmothers were right, by the way.  That stuff is awesome.  And another whole blog entry topic.) Then, I got dressed, careful to choose an outfit that wasn’t too uncomfortable … considering I’ve been in pajamas, sweats, yoga-wear or anything that could easily cross over to clothing suitable for a nap at a moment’s notice.  And I should point out that I wore not only a bra but also jewelry and even make-up. Truth be told, I’ve become so unaccustomed to dolling up that, when I was done, I felt a bit like a drag queen.

Ashley was gracious enough to do the driving today.  I don’t think she’s interested in serving as my crash test dummy in the early days of my operating heavy machinery again.  And one of the first things she did was to assure me that I didn’t look like a drag queen but rather just more of my old self again. Here’s hoping that’s a good thing.

It was nice catching up in the car.  Girl time. Something I haven’t had much of outside of my meaningful conversations with Lola, my purple pillow pet, the last few weeks.  The lunch was fine.  I even had a glass of wine. And Ashley and I cut out early as sitting in a chair eating lunch in a public place was starting to tire me out.  What a wuss.

And, as we were driving home, we encountered a homeless man (well, I’m assuming he was homeless) waiting at the bottom of an interstate ramp and holding a sign that said ‘Broke for my Birthday.’  I wondered out loud what he was going to do tomorrow when his sign was outdated.  Then I felt bad because, the way the traffic was routed, we weren’t able to help.  Although I don’t really endorse this kind of giving as I’ve had my hand grabbed when handing over money on one of these occasions.  Truly, it was only because the man was grabbing my hand to look deeply into my eyes and tell me ‘Jesus loves me.’ Still, when a man grabs your hanging-out-of-the-car hand at a red light, you take pause and wonder if rolling down your window was really the best idea.

Anyway, before I’ve completely lost your attention (Wake up, you three!), I just wanted to extend a gentle reminder to everyone to do something extraordinary for someone else this season.  By extraordinary, I don’t mean that it has to be overly magnanimous or anything like that.  I simply mean extra ordinary or out of the ordinary. Something you might not have otherwise done for someone this year.

Maybe it’s just letting someone whose needs are more urgent than yours get in front of you in line.  (Isn’t it amazing when someone recognizes that need for you?) Or maybe you could pay for the car behind you at the toll booth.  You’ll be surprised at the reactions.  Sure, sometimes they’ll speed up beside you and look at you like you’re nuts.  But it’s still a good idea.  Try to identify someone in your life that needs you, whether or not you know them personally, and see what you can do for them. It doesn’t actually have to cost a dime.

So, if you see me complaining about a line somewhere or cutting someone off in traffic, you can feel free to tap me on the shoulder.  I’m not perfect but I’m also making my effort to pay it forward this season. I’ve never felt more indebted to the world.  And I’m hoping to spread some of this good karma around.

“That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.”

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Can someone help me back up on the horse, please?


Today is December 13 … which you already know if you own a calendar, a phone, a TV or you even just leave home and drive by an electronic bank marquee once in a while. What today means for me is that it’s been 12 days since my surgery.  And I’m trying to get back into the swing of things and sort of become myself again.  But it’s proving to be a little harder than I expected. My cat got out this weekend and the walk around the block that I took to find him nearly killed me.  And then there was the time I tried to sit straight up (rather than the tuck and roll).  Or my sneezing fit today.  Or every single cough, laugh or deep breath.  Damn, I’m weak. And slow.  And I’m so tired of these deficiencies. Tired being the operative word here.

But I’m trying to come back.  And today, I drove.  I actually drove my car by myself.  I had no destination in mind when I got behind the wheel and I’m still trying to figure out why in the hell I chose to drive to Toys ‘R’ Us.  (Seriously, it’s Christmas … but what was I thinking?) For what was a completely fruitless visit.  But I got out there today.  And I didn’t almost kill anyone.  (Unless you count myself with the sneezing.)

Tomorrow, I think I’ll try wearing a bra again.  Wish me luck.

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An Ironic Picture, considering this kid never thinks inside the box


I found this picture of my daughter on my phone yesterday and wasn’t sure how to include it in As my girl would say, she drums to the march of a different beater. So, I thought I’d save it for today. It’s a few years old … from right after we moved into this house, post-Katrina. I can tell because it was taken before we remodeled that previously hideous bathroom. Plus, the box is from the move. It’s more evidence of her nut jobbery. At age four. And I have no explanation.

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