Shame on You, Chewy

Time for another Semi-Wordless Wednesday...flashback style...

I knew Chewbacca was a perv.

A Monday Pirate Meme

No MJ Memes for this Monday folks. I decided that I want to post funny macros about any and all my fave celebs and other things, and not limit it to just Michael Jackson. So when I saw this macro on Tumblr today, and it made me LOL, I decided to share it on Tinalicious.

I love Johnny Depp, and I love Captain Jack Sparrow. What's not to love about either? They're both hot. They're both funny. They're both talented. And they both appear in today's macro. Enjoy!

Michael's Magic Lives On

This is a digital collage I created and posted on my art blog, but wanted to post it here too, in memory of and tribute to Michael Jackson.

Gone, but never forgotten.

August 29, 1958 ~ June 25, 2009

Like A Comet
Blazing ‘Cross The Evening Sky
Gone Too Soon

Like A Rainbow
Fading In The Twinkling Of An Eye
Gone Too Soon

Shiny And Sparkly
And Splendidly Bright
Here One Day
Gone One Night

Like The Loss Of Sunlight
On A Cloudy Afternoon
Gone Too Soon

Like A Castle
Built Upon A Sandy Beach
Gone Too Soon

Like A Perfect Flower
That Is Just Beyond Your Reach
Gone Too Soon

Born To Amuse, To Inspire, To Delight
Here One Day
Gone One Night

Like A Sunset
Dying With The Rising Of The Moon
Gone Too Soon

Gone Too Soon

(by Michael Jackson)

The Brazillian

Time for yet another frightening edition of Semi-Wordless Wednesday, gang.

I think my post title is self-explanatory. But for those that need the visual, the photo speaks for itself too.

On a side note, no, I have never had a Brazillian. And no, I will never have one. The only hair I want removed is that annoying crap above my lip that I pluck every other day.

I have only one thing left to say, and it seems appropriate to say it in photo form.

Things That Make No Sense Today

Do you ever just have one of those days where a bunch of things you see, read, do, and/or hear just don't make much sense? Today is one of those days for me. So, unlucky you, you get to read all about the random Things I Don't Understand today. Brace yourselves. I feel a little case of TMI coming on.

First, I'm eating ice cream. This is not exactly a revelation. But I don't eat ice cream very often, because it tends to give me something that rhymes with the fits. I'm kind of lactose intolerant and/or suffering from IBS and/or suffering from Colitis, which actually is a form of IBS, I think [but I'm not a doctor, so let's not get picky on this point].

But regardless, I try to avoid dairy products as much as possible--but sometimes, what can I say, an ice cream just sounds good. So, even though I've had something that rhymes with the fits all day long, I'm sitting here throwing all caution to the wind and eating ice cream, regardless of the potential consequences. Makes no sense.

Also,  I was watching TV earlier while cooking dinner--and yes, I have a TV in the kitchen, which I bought "for the Hubs," but which also happens to benefit moi (I'm not stupid, after all). And The Barefoot Contessa was on.

No, not this one...

This one...

She's one of my favorites on the Food Network. Ina is a great cook, has a fabulous home, and some really hot male friends to boot.  I'll let you decide which of those things interests me the most. But anyhoots, I tuned in just as she said the following (or something to the effect thereof):

"Somehow I got left responsible for making breakfast. Not sure how that happened."

Um, hmmm, let me think on this for just a second, Ina. Could it be, yeah, because you're the Barefoot Contessa maybe?!

Seriously, what kind of question is that for a chef to ask? Makes no sense. And I really don't understand.

And then there was something that my sweet niece posted on Facebook today.

"If you believe in God, re-post this! Please don't ignore, you are being tested, for it says in the Bible: Deny me in front of everyone, and I will deny you in front of my Father...97% of you won't post...will you? I did."

Love my niece but I'm sorry, that made me literally laugh out loud. My simple reply to that was this:

Somehow, I think God is too busy to read Facebook.

Honestly, I cannot stand things posted on Facebook or on Tumblr (I have 2 Tumblr blogs, BTW) or Twitter or anywhere else, where the post is asking--or demanding, as the case may be--that you re-post something, and if you don't then you're some sort of bad person or something bad will happen or whatever it is. It's ludicrous. And annoying!

Sorry, but I don't believe God reads Facebook. But even if he does, I don't think he's using Mark Zuckerberg's billion dollar baby as his means of testing people's faith. Somehow, I think he has better ways of doing that, and far better things to do with his time. One can only hope. Could I be wrong? Sure. But it still makes no sense.

Naked at Lowes

OK this is going to work for both (Semi) Wordless Wednesday and WTF Wednesday. Pay close attention to the woman behind the counter...if you dare. When You See It...Oh my.

Have you figured it out yet...I mean, after you closed your mouth and stopped scratching your head saying WTF? At first glance, this Lowes employee appears to be naked. But she's not. She's actually a dark-skinned woman...wearing light, flesh-colored, skin-tight leggings.

The obvious question, of course, is WHY?

Once again, proof positive that retail stores need to clearly spell out--and enforce--their dress codes. Sheesh.

Sam's Club Shoppers

So The Hubs and Me, we had some more Shopping Misadventures over the weekend at Sam's Club. It really kind of amazes me sometimes what people wear in public. Even they're not at Wally World (but OK, Sam IS Wally's father). And sometimes the things they do are a little bit bizarre as well.

Let's start with our frugal fashionistas, shall we? One lady I saw was wearing white capris, with patterned underwear. Am I the only person who just knows that you should never wear patterned underwear under anything white? I mean, hello? The print shows right through to the whole entire world. Duh. And even if your ass is hot (hers wasn't, btw), no one wants to see your multi-colored flower-print undies through your pants.  Wouldn't it make more sense to wear either white underwear...or perhaps a thong is in order?

[On second thought, maybe a thong isn't such a good idea.]

Then there was another gal wearing white pants. This was, how shall we say, a "large" gal. And she was clearly proud of her ample supply of cellulite...which, of course, looks magnified under white fabric. Why, oh freaking why, would anyone voluntarily choose to make their cellulite-filled ass look even bigger? I have a big ass myself, so I know what I'm talking about here, and you will never see me in anything white. Ever.

White Pants + Cellulite = Plus Sized Fashion Disaster. Seriously. I just can't stress this enough. I preach it. And I live it.

But the classiest fashionista of the day was the older lady wearing a pink tee, jean capris (clearly it was the day for capris too) and sparkly tennis shoes. I'm guessing that was her way of blinging up her casual summer outfit. She was was wearing silver hoops for ear bling, so perhaps she wanted to tie into that with some silver sparkle foot bling. Because, you know, who doesn't want a little foot bling while they're shopping at Sam's?  I so badly wanted to get a photo of her. I was just about to get my shot but the Hubs was trying to figure out the zoom on his phone's camera at the same time. And stupid me,  I tried to help him and lost my photo op moment all together. Urgh.

Anyhoots, enough about those fiercely scary dressed fashionistas. My other shopping observation of the day occurred in the restroom. And let me start by saying that I don't like public restrooms, so I use them as seldom as possible. And when I do use them I just want to get in, take care of business, and get right back out. It's not a place I want to have, say, a telephone conversation. But the lady in the stall next to me had the exact opposite agenda. Her phone rang, she answered it, and she began chatting away like crazy, completely oblivious to the fact that she's...urinating.

Seriously. When did talking on a cellphone while peeing become OK? And how important is it that you have a conversation during the urination process? Like, really? It can't wait 3 minutes?

This was not a business deal or a family emergency this lady was talking about. She was just chatting about various mundane things. And she never stopped. She washed her hands...or one of them anyway...while still talking on the phone. And she left the bathroom still talking, bumping me on her way out because she was so absorbed in her phone conversation. Though she did manage an apology in between giggles with her cellphone BFF.

The cellphone urinator at least gets some points though. She was wearing, guess what? White capris. And she was a "large" gal too. But at least she had a shirt on that covered her cellulite, and any potentially otherwise visible flower-patterned underwear. So even though she failed miserably at bathroom etiquette, she wins my prize for fashionista of the day.

I Told You So

I know, I know. It's rude to say, "I told you so." It's petty. It's lame. But sometimes, you just have to say it.

Take yesterday, for an example. My 7-year-old grandson, Dylan had a baseball game, and it was beyond a hot one outside. It seemed way too hot for a game, IMO, but initially I just thought I was being the usual over-protective grammy. But then I was checking my Weather Channel app on my iPhone and saw that the Weather Service had issued a severe heat index warning. [iPhones rock, btw. Just sayin.] They stressed that no outdoor activity should be undertaken, unless it was necessary.

So, naturally, being the over-protective grammy that I truly am, I texted my daughter (because I'm all about the texting now that I have an iPhone) and told her that, in my humble opinion, and based on the severe heat index warning, I didn't feel Dylan should go to the game. I didn't think any of those kids should be playing in that kind of weather at all. It really just seemed like common sense to me, but what do I know?

And so, naturally, being the willful, I-can-take-care-of-my-own-son fruit of my womb gal that she is, my daughter decided that neither I nor the Weather Service knew what we were talking about. So while she was on her way home from school, her boyfriend took Dylan to said game, in his head-to-toe polyester, heat-sucking uniform.

Fast forward a few hours later when my daughter pops over to pick up a FAX she was expecting, and she casually tells me..."by the way, Dylan got heat exhaustion at the game and we had to take him to the ER. But he's totally fine now."

UM, WTF?!

So I am sorry, but I could absolutely not resist serving up a Tinalicious-sized serving of  I TOLD YOU SO! What did I say just the other day about Mom's always being right?! And, um, hello? I am a mom too! Sometimes I actually know stuff!

But she just looked at me in that "Oh, Mother, puhlease" kind of way that she does sometimes as I finished my little rant. Clearly, this was not a Hallmark moment by any stretch of the imagination. But hopefully it will serve as a painful reminder to her that, yes, mom is at least sometimes always right.

Chicken and Peppers Tart

Well I finally tried a new recipe this week, so it's time for another installment of Tasty Tuesday. This Chicken and Peppers Tart is super easy and rather healthful too, and a nice alternative to a traditional pizza.

Ingredients

1 Can Pillsbury Pizza Dough

1 to 1-1/2 pounds boneless chicken thighs or breasts (I used thighs), cut into bite size chunks

1/2 of a Green Bell Pepper, chopped

1/2 of a Red Bell Pepper (or yellow, it's just for color), chopped

Garlic Powder and Onion Powder (OR--2 cloves minced garlic and 1 small diced onion, whichever is your preference. I just used powder because it was quicker and easier). I didn't measure these. Sometimes I like to walk on the wild side and just sprinkle until it feels right. But if I had to guess, I'd say one teaspoon or so of each.

1 TBSP Soy Sauce

1 TBSP Olive Oil

Salt & Pepper, to taste

1 Cup 5 Cheese Italian Blend Shredded Cheese

Directions

Preheat the oven to 400° and roll out the pizza dough onto a baking sheet. If it's not a non-stick sheet, spray with cooking spray so the dough won't stick.

Add Olive Oil to the pan on medium heat. Saute peppers for a minute and then add chicken. When chicken is nearly cooked through add all your seasonings and soy sauce and finish cooking.

Use a slotted spoon to spread chicken and peppers out over the pizza dough, leaving about 1" of space all the way around the dough. Sprinkle with cheese. Then fold over the edges of the dough all the way around to form an edge/thick crust end.

Bake for 15 minutes or until crust is golden brown. I served this with a nice salad and the Hubs and I really liked it! Nice easy meal on a hot day. And there are so many ways you could vary the ingredients to make all sorts of different tarts, according to your liking. I've done a similar one with ground turkey, mushrooms, and bleu cheese. It was yummy too!

Dining with Farm Animals

You really have to wonder about people these days. Particularly, people who eat in restaurants who also act as if they were raised in a barn. No manners. No common sense. No self-awareness.

Take last night for example. The Hubs and I were out to eat at Applebee's. Not  exactly my favorite place to eat, but since our choices are rather limited in this town, it'll do when everything else just screams suck-ville to me.

Anyhoots, I ordered a margarita. Whoa, hold the liquor-filled phone just one minute! Did I just say I ordered a margarita?! Why, yes, yes I did. Those who know me know that I am not really a big drinker. I mean sure, I spent a brief period in my 20's enjoying the benefits of being "legal," partying with friends on the weekend, and throwing back one too many rum and Cokes on occasion. Who didn't?!

But that is ancient history. I'm just not overly fond of the effects of alcohol, so I seldom drink. And when I do, I just don't drink much. But yeah, Applebee's was having a special on margaritas. And since I had never tried one, I thought that at 44.9 years it was high time I did. It was quite tasty too.

So I was sipping away on my sale-priced libation and enjoying my over-priced Cajun Shrimp Pasta while the Hubs ate his steak, when I noticed him stop mid-chew and stare intently and quizzically at a restaurant patron seated at the table diagonally behind us. Now of course, I couldn't see the person that had so captured the Hubs' attention. So my first thought was, she must be hot. But I was so wrong. So very, very wrong.

I asked the Hubs what he was staring at, and I was ill-prepared for his reply.

"That guy over there," he said matter-of-factly, "is clipping his fingernails...at the table."

"Um, excuse me?," was my puzzled reply. Surely I must have misheard him. Nobody clips their fingernails at the table...in a restaurant, right?  Au contraire, mon frere (I was French in another life, btw). Apparently, some people in fact DO clip their fingers at the table...in a restaurant.

I mean, really?

WTH?! As if.

I mean, just when you think people can't be anymore gross. You pop into Applebee's for an innocent meal and a watered-down (but tasty) margarita, and you end up checking your pasta for stray fingernails.

You know, they call it personal hygiene for a reason.

Bring It, Freak

So this post is really supposed to be a Snickers and Smiles post. But, you know, a multi-purpose post is always a good thing, right? So it's going out into the blogosphere with The Freak Next Door in mind as well.

I just find it
sadistic, sick, and twistedfunny that after about 4 or 5 months of  absolute silence from The Freak, that last week his ugliness reared its head once again in the way of loud music that seemed to emanate from the bowels of hell itself. I mean, yes, it was THAT loud. And why, pray tell, did he decide to try to blast our sanity from our bodies using every stereo and speaker at his disposal? Um, because the Hubs needed to haul stone into our front porch, which is being rebuilt.

Yes. The stone-hauling was, apparently, a nuisance to The Freak. You know...bothersome. Annoying. And I'm guessing, too loud. So, yeah, the obvious course of action would be to blast your freak music so loud that even the dead dog buried two feet below the surface  in my back yard could hear it. Absolutely logical, right? [Insert my internal snicker here.]

And of course my first impulse was to turn to The Freak and call him a...

But then I heard my mother's voice in my head saying, Christina (because I'm only Christina when I'm a very bad girl), that's not very ladylike. And really, she's right. Mom's have such an annoying way of always being right.

So after I thought on it for a bit, I decided that I am indeed a lady, and as such, manners are always important. So if I'm going to say anything to The Freak, there can be no name-calling.  That won't solve anything. I should just approach him politely and remember to work in a "please," even if he's spewing his venom all over me. And perhaps that would go something like this...

Hmm...that seemed like a much better idea in my head. But being that I know from experience it's pointless to say anything to The Freak, I thought better of it and decided to just ignore him instead. Rise above it, as they say. Be the better person. Something he could never do.

And then as I was thinking about writing this post today, I stumbled across something on the Web that was so perfect...it absolutely made me smile. So I dedicate it to everyone else in the world who is dealing with their own freak next door.

He thinks he can win this? I think not.

Bring it, Freak.