Miscellany Monday

I interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for a dose of complete and utterly useless babble.

Just found a new blog hop thingy to join in on and guess what? It involves being random! Dude, how did I not know about this before?? Being random is one of my very favorite things to do and this totally justifies my love of verbal diarrhea!

 

Numero Uno:

I fucking hate cottage cheese. HATE it. And I don’t just mean the stuff that’s shown up on my thighs since birthing children – although I’m not too fond of that kind either. I mean the gross, chunky stuff often found in the refrigerators of the elderly and  bins of a salad bar. The container alone makes me wanna hurl: “ Small Curd, Grade A.:  What.the.shit.  Curd. Who finds that appetizing?? Curd is a derivative of curdled and when I think of that word, I think of spoiled milk.  Or baby spit up that’s been sitting in an infant’s belly for a few hours. <Gag> I’m actually gagging. Need more proof?

This is the remnants of what I found in Nut’s sippy cup that fell behind her bed and wasn’t discovered for over 24 hours:

And this is cottage cheese: 

Notice the similarities? **Shudder**

 

Numero Dos:

I’m no picnic to look at in a swimsuit, but after spending many hours at the water park last week, I have to wonder WHAT IN THE SAM HELL IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE??? At least I know nobody wants to see this shit and I cover it up appropriately, why can’t everyone else do the same? Remember those one piece swimsuits from the 80’s/early 90’s that were extremely high cut and had the stomach cut out? Okay, now that you have that image in your head, imagine your grandma in one. Horrifying, right? How do you think I felt seeing that in person on Saturday??  I swear to God, I bet the thing was an antique… the suit, not the lady. Although that wouldn’t be a farfetched assessment either. If you don’t got it, don’t flaunt it!!

Numero Tres:

Keeping in tune with the swimsuit thing, here’s a PSA for the European man who was floating near me on the Lazy River: The short wetsuit was, in a word, weird. We weren’t scuba diving.  The heat index was a hundred and fucking two, not like hypothermia was an issue. Swim trunks cost like, what? $10 at Wal-Mart? If you can spend $25 to get into the park, I’m pretty sure you can check your couch cushions for some more loose change and splurge on the trunks (this also applies to the mullet-ed gentlemen I saw wearing denim cutoffs). You certainly were not pale so I’m pretty sure you weren’t trying to protect your delicate skin. You were, in fact, quite bronzed. And here’s another thing – if you’re going to throw caution to the wind and opt for the stupid wetsuit, please make sure it is not an ill-fitting one. They are supposed to be tight, not loose and baggy. While you had quite an attractive face, your DILF factor was cancelled out by the fact that your wetsuit was up your ass crack. That’s never a good look for anybody, especially somebody who I’m pretty sure all the mommies were trying to picture naked. Way to ruin it for the rest of us, buddy.

 

And that’s all I’ve got! Or at least all I feel like sharing. Once I get going, it’s hard for me to stop.  Please resume your normal activities.