Kiss My Ass Direct TV

Dear Direct Tv and your sleazy subcontractor Premier Communications,

Thanks for making me wait for over two weeks to receive your overpriced service and then to find out that there is "no line of sight" when you've already installed one dish on my house years ago(and I've had your service) is a total crock of shit. Nevermind that when you were supposed to show up btwn 12-4 it was 5:15. Dickheads. I hate you. I hate you for making me wait and then pissing out on the deal. If I could, I'd smack your docile customer service reps that say "uh huh and I'm sorry you feel that way". Fuckers.

I realize it's winter, but if your lazy 'roid ridden ass won't scale a ladder to do what's right then look for another job. Pissheads. Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!

Mandalay Prefers Lavender

Electric Nest Warmer

by Mary Robinson
you can just barely see the three prong cord to the right...

D Day

I feel like a filthy, dirty whore. Tomorrow is the day when Direct TV HD gets piped in to the casa. Only one receiver and no Tivo. I have to draw the line somewhere. I do have my pride. If you're looking for me, I'll be over at Bravo.

Paunch & Cookies

Yesterday my mom and I stopped at a little place for some thrifting. We were downstairs looking at glassware when I was reminded of the fact that I'd make punch for SF's birthday. My mom used to have a cool punch bowl but got rid of it over the years.

A sweet lady overheard us and chimed in, "I have a punch bowl. It's antique and it's just sitting there."

"I'm sure you'd want more than I was willing to pay," I smiled.

"No, you can have it" she said.

We live in the same town so last night, by the time the front doorbell rang I had already forgotten about it and thought 'who the hell would be ringing the front doorbell?'

It was her with my new old punch bowl. I thanked her and she saw SF. He said thanks too. I washed it and it's cool, heavy glass. I told my mom I was going to bring back the adult punch bowl party. But I really don't need anymore punch in my paunch.

Why can't I just be slim and happy and brainless...switch to autopilot and become almost zombie like in my weight loss approach? The answer is very, very simple...I like food.

Crazy (by crazy I mean train...)

This is me flying down Grand Ave shooting pictures at 35 MPH. This guy lived downstairs from my friend. He's given to whimsical moments of kicking his bike out in traffic and bitching aloud about nonsense only he understands. Poor fella. She said he was faking it.

I had a few glasses of vino and about five or six dark chocolate fake De Met's(by fake I mean Nestle) turtles. Thanks for fucking up a good thing Nestle. Snowflake(by SF I mean me) had to do a "Peace Report" featuring a country of his nationality. He won't tell you that he picked Poland. He'll say he picked "Polish". He ( I mean me) had to take a cereal box and decorate it with fervor. I put SF shirtless in goggles wearing his striped pants standing in front of the Polish flag (using CS2) and listed famous Poles, including the North and the South. Har Har. (and Hot Lips Houlihan). On the reverse is Falat's self portrait from 1896(on the side he's with SF conferring).

Getting to the point, tomorrow we are invited to come and view the cereal boxes at school. Yes, my hair bristles at the thought. If I had a big fattie (by big fattie I mean marijuana joint, by joint I mean cigarillo, by cigarillo I mean cigarette), I might have just indulged myself before school. Something I have never done. I think Julian(by Julian I mean Falat) is sexy and says, "why not Ms Mamma, why not?" Keeess me you fool. Maybe I will Julian, maybe I will. XO


ps...this weekend my mom said I looked like "that rock star, oh you know... the one...the rock star she said, married to Sharon, you know" with my round sunglasses on.

Little Blue Dreamers

Erehwon in Winter

My English Love

I finally bought something I blogged about. Instead of procrastinating and dilly-dallying, I went on a hunt. I always thought I wanted a Dualit toaster. They're classically cool looking and world famous. But unlike days of old, their parts are now outsourced and then they are "hand assembled" in the UK. Well, that's just not acceptable, bub. I wanted the real deal. So after weeks of searching, I found it. It just magically appeared.



I found a brand new commercial Rowlett toaster on Ebay. The starting bid was higher than most Dualits but no one else bid on it. Happy Friggin' Birthday to Me! If I actually had to buy this from a company that shipped them from the UK to the US it would have cost me around $500 for this hunk of chrome goodness.



OMG. I love it. It's totally gorgeous and unlike the 'other inferior English toasters' this is actually handmade.

The slots are so wide I can put whole English Muffins or Bagels in! It toasts to perfection. I love the cool Nixie tube it has just above the dial when it's working hard to complete my order. It has a pleasant DING! when the item is done. Unlike regular toasters, your stuff stays down in the innards of the toaster until you push the plunger to retrieve it.



Talk about warm fuzzies. I've got 'em.

There's a flashy little brochure the toaster came with plugging the Rowlett 'lifestyle' complete with quotes from famous English writers like George Bernard Shaw:

"There is no love sincerer than the love of food." Don't I know it.

My Funny Valentine

Sincerely, MsMamma

Maybe I've been in denial that I've had another birthday. Thanks for the good wishes. My friend Dennis said I didn't look a day over 32. Beggars can't be choosers so I guess I'll take that. I've been preoccupied with maybe buying an LCD TV and then I think 'what the hell are you thinking' when I could really use a new Mac more than anything. But still, eventhough I don't have any "services", I'm sick of the 13" Sponge Bob and it's ugly twin, a big black 20" Sony from 1991. Such is the life of the enigma MsMamma.

Maybe a new tattoo is in order. 'Scuse me. I have some paint I have to watch dry.

Don't Lick Me

She is like the sacred truffle sniffing pig of Fronce. Yes, Fronce! As she clomps through the fresh deep snow like an aimless tiny landship in search of buried treasure, she finds her joie de vivre in the tiny caper like orbs left behind out of the behind of some rabbit's ass. She delights in its pungent aroma(its secret known only to her) and simplicity(she hasn't gagged on one yet) throwing caution to the wind as she gobbles it down.

Friday Night Birthday

Snowflake had a really great day at school. I was so happy, especially after spending the morning reading "Raising Cain: Protecting the Emotional Lives of Boys". It's an amazing book. My friend had seen the PBS special and said it was really eye-opening. So far it seems essential to anyone who wants to really understand the difference in which we treat boys and girls from birth. It makes sense. I can see the lives of my brothers in this book. Especially my brother who is no longer alive.

I had bought a new DoughMakers 9" square baking pan. Why? When I showed it to SF he suggested we make a birthday cake and celebrate. That sounded good to me. Together we made an Irish Butter Cake with Irish Cream Cheese Frosting.

We had to go to the store because the only baking powder I had was from my polish granny circa early 90's. The hilarious thing is that she gave it to me in 1994 and it expired in 1989. It's in a cool old metal can. I ended up buying more Kerrygold butter and some Droste Dutch process cocoa because I'm feeling very epicurian lately. It's nice to have with my Madagascar Bourbon Vanilla. Whatev.

It was delish and the first cake I've made from scratch(or in my home for that matter). Love the new pan. He put the candles on and I lit them up. He blew them out with gusto as we celebrated his third birthday for the second and probably the last time. Afterwards I sang Happy Birthday to him and he blushed. Happy Birthday my creative, curious and boistrous babe. I love you my sweet little baby boy.