The Office Lunch

30 Nov

Ah, yes. The office. Our homes away from home, like it or not.

There are many exciting things that happen in the office: bathroom stand offs, the stealing of lunches and other goodies from the community fridge, the co-workers who let their phones ring at volume 678, even though they seem to be the ones who never actually answer the mysterious ringing machine, those who return emails from the bottom up – asking stupid questions repeatedly until they get to the top and then think “hehehe oopsies! Guess I should have read the chain first!” makes them look un-stupid again. The least of my worries are the popcorn burners and tuna/fish eaters, as we have basically driven those people to dine in solitude after a few mishaps.

However, about 2 months ago, I noticed a strange phenomenon that I will refer to henceforth as soup o’clock. Every day at precisely 1:15, I hear the familiar patter of feet move toward the microwave, followed by a return to the desk with a napkin and a spoon. The soup lover then returns to the microwave, delighted to find that the liquid food has warmed itself and is ready to be ingested. As the feet pad back down the short hallway, I hear the familiar rattle of the spoon, and then cringe and I visualize the soup lover’s hand making it’s way toward the mouth.

And then it happens – Sluuuuuuuuurppppppp, Sluuurp, Slurp, Sluuuuurp, Slurp. <pause> Sluuuurp, slurp, sluurp.
I would put my headphones in during this wretched time, but it’s after lunch, so unless I have managed to escape to lunch time yoga, where I balance myself and tell my brain to wish good thoughts upon the bastardly soup slurper, I am stuck answering post-lunch questions. This is really my fault since any morning questions are met with eye daggers and gnashing of teeth, but really people, this is neither here nor there….

Every day… Every. Single. Blasted. Day. I listen to the slurp slurp slurp of the soup. Sometimes, I return from a late lunch, gleefully plopping into my chair in a soup-slurping-by-pass high, only to find the slurper has waited for me to return so I can share the joyfulness of soup and the magical air bubbling noises it makes.

Other days, I grin and bear it. Pretending I don’t notice the slurpfest and continuing to scream into my phone, battling the slurps for volume. But even then, even when I play nice, the soup slurper strikes again. For the soup slurper recently discovered…. yogurt. Which apparently must be loudly licked off the spoon and then smacked and gummed open-mouthed until the creamy substance is juuuuust right.
If you want to insert a lame TWSS joke – you probably also still think WINNING! is a cool phrase. 

Now back on track, without the soup, I could find a way to deal with the yogurt. I really could. Mainly because I like yogurt. Particularly fage. Because a) I like saying FA-YEH, and b) because I like saying FA-YEH.

And also because I myself bring loud crunchy apples into the office which I’m sure annoy my cube mates as well. But SOUP? First of all, if you are eating soup anytime outside of the November- February window – you’re fucking weird. Soup is not meant to be enjoyed in July, people. It’s 110 degrees outside, who thinks to themselves “mmmm I could really go for a steaming bowl of chicken broth and meat that doesn’t even have to be refrigerated!”? Not I… not I.
Even if it IS 50 degrees in the office and I am hunkered down in my snuggie. IT’S NOT THE TIME FOR SOUP.

Secondly, WHO EATS SOUP BY ITSELF? Oh, I’m sorry, yogurt did accompany the soup, but seriousl., I can get on board with a soup & salad combo, a bread bowl, or tomato soup with grilled cheese – mmm… grilled cheese. But if you like soup by itself, I hate you. You’ll probably say something like, but what about the tomato soup at La Madeleine? Sooooo goood. Then I’ll say something like, I don’t eat at chain restaurants with you peons. Also, I prefer my tomato soup not made of lard.

What I really mean of course is that I can maybe have a cup of that, but then I’m done. Because I eat soup with SIDES of other stuff. Like the heart shaped sugar cookies they have there. And some lemonade.


Lastly, If you don’t know how to eat soup, drink it through a straw. A big straw, that can accept chunnks of meat, and vegetables, and would really hurt if I just so happened to walk by and shove your face into the straw and poke an eye out.

Anyway, have you guys noticed how cold it is outside?!
Good weather for wine… and I confess, soup.
Just please eat responsibly. Friends don’t let friends smack and slurp.


The ghost of birthdays past

21 Sep

Well hello there, lovelies, and good morning to you. And happy birthday to me. I’m currently sitting at work, been here for an hour, mind you, because we had a meeting scheduled for 8am, which apparently I didn’t really have to come to because only half of our team showed up. So I woke up at 6:30 on my birthday to come to work early, where i’ll probably stay late because I dicked around too long this morning writing a blog. But complaining, as good as I am at it, was not my intention for this post.

I’d say I’m getting ornery due to old age, but we all know I popped out all hot and bothered, so let’s just cut to the chase here. I’ve decided to share a special birthday from years’ past with you. My 12th birthday to be exact. I had decided on a roller skating/sleepover combo – God bless my mother who put up with 16 shrieking teenagers in her household almost every weekend for most of my junior high/high school years. It was September 1997… I was in the 6th grade, AIM was booming (CS974, represent), and everyone and their mom was still rocking the Rachel cut.

…..Except me that is.
The 6th grade may have been the peak of my awkward years… maybe. I’ve been internally battling whether I should describe myself as a chubby Daria with a bob cut or a 12 year old version of Molly Shannon in SUPERSTAR! *jazz hands* I’d say I was probably more Molly Shannon than Daria, I mean Daria would never have red and gold flecks in the frames of her black glasses, and I preferred white tube socks to combat boots, despite my obsession later that year with “alternative rock” and my self proclaimed punk rocker status. 311 shirt with limited too jeans anyone?? Yeah. Mortifying.

ANYWAY, I’m envisioning the picture we took in my front yard. You know, the pyramid of girls with acne and braces? Actually I didn’t have braces yet, I just had a small gap between my front teeth. And there I was, front and center on the bottom row, wearing what I’m sure was some God awful denim on denim ensemble. But you see, my outfit wasn’t that important. It was my jewelry that really shined.

Around my neck, was a barbie head.

Yes, I actually popped the head off of one of my sister’s barbies, tied a ribbon around it, and hung it from my neck.

Did you hear me? I. Tied. A. Barbie. Head. Around. MY. NECK.
Did I not have a perfectly suitable Claire’s choker I could have been wearing??
And WHY did these so called friends not stop me?

Then I continued to wear it to the roller rink, where I probably skated around giggling and waving it around when Aqua came on, because COME ON BARBIE LET’S GO PARTY! Omg! I totes brought Barbie to the party!

At some point, we eventually headed back to my house, presumably to make prank phone calls from my papasan chair, jump on the trampoline, or maybe TP someone’s house.
Actually I still actively participate in these activities and am mentally high fiving my 12 year old self for perhaps her only saving grace.

Of course, being the good host that I am, I declared the rules of war before we settled in for the night. First one to fall asleep gets it! Unfortunately, the first one to fall asleep happened to be my next door neighbor. Hey, sorry you didn’t listen. I TOLD you that you were going to get it, and it’s not my fault that you crushed all the cheetos we put in your sleeping bag and rubbed your eyes and got shaving cream in them…. well, it kind of is since i tickled your face with a feather, but that’s how slumber parties go!
Are you new?

Really she had my mother to thank for that. Since turning 12 marked that special right of passage where I was allowed to shave my legs. Because it doesn’t matter that I was rocking the chubby Velma look, it was clearly that Arian-race hair on my legs that was keeping the fellas from asking me to slow dance at arms length.

Anyway, the neighbor ran home and we pretty much ceased all communication for the next 6 years despite the fact we were next door neighbors.
I’d like to say my 12 year old self felt bad, but she probably didn’t. I mean, how can you be preoccupied with apologies when your dad brings home pigs in a blanket and chocolate frosted donuts with sprinkles?
You can’t.

So kids, the moral of the story is that if you are a total fucking weirdo as a pubescent , you’ll lose a few friends along the way but gain some great stories to tell as an adult.

And for the record, I turned out pretty good looking. Bonus.

My Dallas to-do list

22 Jun

I have been a bad poster. This is mostly because I refuse to post just to post because then I feel like it’s all “I’m trying to be funny, but this isn’t really funny, and now I just feel stupid.” And then I realized, this is my blog. No one has to read it if they don’t want to, so I can post whatever I want! SO THERE! So it might not be funny. It might not be a rant. It might not involve F bombs. And if you don’t like it, you can leave. My house, my rules.

editors note: above rant is to the voices in my head, not any actual humans. You’ve all been quite pleasant.

SO. My first order of business in bringing sexythe blog back, is to update my Dallas to-do list. This only includes places I have not been! But I may list some old favorites at the bottom just for good measure. Today’s neighborhood is my new stomping ground: Lakewood. Some of these might border on East Dallas, but I’ll have a seprate list for that ‘hood. Enjoy!

I just recently moved over to lower lower Greenville, so while I know Henderson and Greenville well, I am on a mission to hit up some East Dallas spots I had no clue existed 3 months ago.

Food & Drink

Legal Grounds – Abrams between La Vista and Richmond
Obviously I’m down to try anywhere that serves coffee (living behind Pearl Cup has been great!), so I need to try this spot. It is also intriguing to me because the Yelp reviews seem to be either raves or rants. Which probably means the ranters probably just have their panties in a twist because this place doesn’t pump out coffee as fast as starbucks. According to supporters, I’ll die if I don’t try the “prom cakes” – pancakes made from oatmeal with granola and bananas. Sounds good to me, I’ll have an expresso, too. They also have a Godiva hot chocolate I wouldn’t mind trying on a cold night with a good book.
Can’t find a website, but there’s a short video with owner interview here.

Garden Cafe – 5310 Junius (near Munger & Gaston)
Open Tues – Sunday 8am – 2pm, with breakfast served all day. They grown seasonal fruits, veggies, and herbs in their garden. Healthy, local fare, plus it looks really cute! They also do events during the evenings since the restaurant is not open for dinner.

White Rock Local Market – Held at the Green Spot the 2nd and 4th Saturdays of the month
I haven’t checked out this farmer’s market yet, and need to. Every market is different, so it’s fun to peruse them all! Maybe I’ll stop by after checking off another of my to-do’s: Kayaking on White Rock. I was happy to discover they offer canoe and kayak rentals after thinking no place in Dallas (at least close to me) offered this. Should be a nice little Saturday morning, no?

Green Spot also has a Produce Club, which I think is kind of cool because part of the proceeds go to local farming and agriculture initiatives and you get local, organic goodies! For a $25 annual fee, you get a t-shirt, 10% discount on produce, invitations to Green Spot cooking demonstrations, and recipe exchange programs. They will also accomodate special orders.

Eddie’s Deli – 5844 Abrams
Chicago beef in Dallas. It’s no secret I am partial to Jimmy’s (read my yelp review here), but I feel like I should try Eddie’s just to say I have. They are closed Sundays, but it’s a cheap dog  ($5 average) for you hungry hungry hippos Monday – Saturday.

Cafe Donuts – Mockingbird and Abrams
I’m generally a healthy eater, especially for breakfast, but I’ve heard this place has the best sausage rolls known to man. Being a huge fan of the Czech Bakery as a frequent Austin traveler, I must review and decide for myself!

Molly Maguires – Skillman and Live Oak
I’m Irish. Nuff said. Except I should also add they have a great beer selection and call their kids’ menu the Leprechaun Menu. Not that I encourage bringing kids to a bar… but whatever.


The Balcony Club – Abrams & La Vista, attached to Lakewood theater
They have a few different Jazz bands playing every night, some regularly scheduled groups and some randoms. Sounds like a fun little joint to have a few drinks.

The Summer Concert Series at the Arboretum
Tickets are usually around $10 and are outdoors overlooking White Rock Lake. The line up is actually pretty good! Spazmatics, Bon Jovi tribute bands, etc.


Paperbacks Plus – Located in the back of the lakewood shopping center on Skillman and Live Oak
I drive past this all the time leaving yoga and really need to stop in. I’ve heard there are great deals on used books and music and that the store is always promoting local events and artists. SUPPORT THE LOCALS!

Talulah Belle – 2011 Abrams
Looks like Francesca’s meets organized Gypsy Wagon. I’m always looking for knick knacks, cards, and fun accessories (that I usually end up never wearing but were just too cute to pass up). I’m hoping the prices for most items fall more into the Francesca’s range.

Curiosities – 2025 Abrams
Some crazy antique store that I am dying to check out. The reviews had me at “neon yard gnome.” Yeah, you heard me. Regardless of whether I will buy anything here, it is on my list of places to go when I’m bored on Sunday afternoon, because despite my own minimalist style, I love rifling through other people’s crap and imagining where on earth they found these gems in the first place.

Redenta’s – Skillman and Oram
Now, there’s not much I can do garden-wise since I live in an apartment. But I do want to get some stuff to put on my balcony. And none of those tacky hanging plants in plastic buckets or dried of shriveled messes strewn about my neighbors’ humble abodes. I’m going to get some of those nice small flower beds you can hang over the side of the balcony and grow some pretty flowers…. or at least buy some pretty flowers and pray I don’t forget to water them. Stayin alive, stayin alive…

So that’s my list. Please feel free to leave any recs I might have missed….

Oh, and the honorable mentions I frequent:
Times Ten Cellars
The Wine Therapist

Penne Pomodoro ($1 bloody marys, hell yes!)
La Calle Doce (get the ceviche)
Matt’s Rancho Martinez
Lakewood Landing
The Goat (7248 Gaston) – kareoke and seriously cheap drinks

The Food Plate: the answer to obesity

31 May

Extra, extra! Read all about it! The government will be issuing a new “food plate” to solve all of America’s fatty fat problems this Thursday. Obviously I’ll be anxiously awaiting with my popcorn to see this amazing new design that will replace the food pyramid, consequently making it easier for Americans to understand that we need to put more veggies on our plates. Because just saying it isn’t easy enough to comprehend….

Let’s dive in, shall we?

Well, doesn’t THAT look delicious? Scalloped potatoes, canned corn, maybe some frozen mealy broccoli to go with whatever the hell kind of meat that is with some crescent rolls (okay fine, those look pretty good…), all complimented by what I can only guess is some coleslaw and cucumbers! Mmmm… tasty! #sarcasmfont

Now I’ll admit, I’m one of those people who requests the divided plates on holidays because I just believe that certain foods should just never touch. Thanksgiving is especially bad because it’s like a contest of how many side dishes we can possibly create to feed 10 people. I don’t WANT my cranberry sauce touchin my mac n cheese. I don’t like green bean casserole glop running onto my roll and making it all soggy and cream of mushroom-soupy. I especially don’t want to use the same fork to eat my turkey and my pumpkin pue (lookin at you, grandpas of the world).

Anyway, my whole point is, that plate looks disgusting. And like an invitation to splurge at Golden Corral as long as the plate is half filled with buttered mashed potatoes, salad drenched in ranch dressing, and cinnamon apples, fruits and veggies right?!

Oh, and there will also be a little circle next to the plate for dairy. They suggest maybe a cup of yogurt, or perhaps a glass of milk. But God forbid it be CHOCOLATE MILK.

Lemme tell you something people, it’s not the chocolate milk. It’s the fact that if your parents fit in with people of Walmart, chances are you probably will too.

Luckily, all you have to do to solve the problem is put on a “Classy Lady” t-shirt, because if it’s scrawled across your chest, it MUST be true. I’m actually going to go out and buy one so that people at the bar understand that really, there is a classy lady under that layer of vodka.

In another unrelated rant, what the hell was that on the Bachelorette last night? Good one Ashley, take the poor date to Vegas and go ring shopping, cake tasting, and then actually go 90% through with a wedding in the chapel? The only thing crazier than her might have been the guy, who seemed to be completely romanticized by the floating dinner in the Bellagio fountains as onlookers scream “WE LOVE YOU ASHLEY!!!” Totally not awkward. Not awkward at all.

Almost as not awkward as quotes by Bentley. My personal favorite?
“I won’t be here until the end, she really isn’t my type. But she’s got a nice ass and if she’d tickle my balls, that’d be nice.”
Or something to that effect. Class act. Maybe we should get him a “Classy Gentleman” shirt?

ding dong, ding dong

12 Apr


TLC has a new show called “Strange Sex.” It might become a new obsession of mine. A sick, twisted obsession in which I relish how normal I really am that I don’t have 23 Y chromosomes, or that I didn’t grow two vaginas, or that I never stumbled across a man like Jonah Falcon, who has a 13.5 inch penis. Soft.

Holy shit, WHAT?

I think my mom nearly spewed chardonnay out her nose when they did the close up of his junk pretty much wrapped around his leg. Good lawd. We were rolling.

Speaking of rolling, I imagine it must be about the size of a rolling pin.

If you would like examples of other things that are 13.5 inches, I will be happy to provide them for you:

your forearm
1 and 1/9 subway footlong
a Zach Morris cell phone
a Barbie doll
a Katade-mochi bonzai tree
a bottle of wine
2-3 regular penises

I’m sorry, I promise the point of this post was not to recap the discussion in which the sex therapist informed viewers nation-wide that this man’s endowment could fracture the female cervix, or that Jonah has slept with so many women that “he can’t really remember but it’s definitely triple digits,” or that his blind date that he met online blurted out “I HEAR YOU HAVE A HUGE DONG!”

 Who wouldn’t want this hunka hunka burnin’ love?

Anyway, the actual inspiration for this post came from the Phallological Museum in Husavik, Iceland.
Let’s call a spade a fucking spade, people.
It’s a penis museum.

The owner, Sigurdur Hjartarson, is SUPER excited about receiving 95 year old Pall Arason’s pickled penis since his timely passing.

Arason is the first person to actually donate his penis. And Hjartarson is tickled pink. In fact, even his pickle it tickled!

“I have just been waiting for this guy for 15 years,” he told The Associated Press in a brief telephone interview.

You’ve been waiting 15 years for an old dude to die so you can have his formaldehyde soaked member? Is this more or less exciting than when you got your grubby little fingers on that “unusually big” penis bone from a Canadian walrus?

Apparently his obsession started when he used a whip made from bull penis to herd cattle as a youngster (this is one thing), and the next thing he knew, people were bringing him gifts of whale penis as gifts (this is a whole ‘nother thing)!

Somebody PLEASE explain to me how you become the guy that gets whale penis gifts.
“Oh, it’s Hjartarson’s birthday, what shall we get the lad? I know! A seal penis! You know how he just loves cock.”

For the record, he has 276, now 277, peni (is that the plural form?)

And I quote MSNBC:
“Photos posted to the museum’s website show small army of ghostly, whitish penises stuffed into jars, tall glass cylinders and large aquariums. There are sculptures, molds and other penis-related craft items. Outside, the museum has a large tree trunk carved into the shape of an erect phallus.”

He also seems to think that a dong donation is simply no different from donating a kidney. It’s just an organ, after all!

Maybe Jonah will be willing to send his good to Iceland when he meets his maker.
Then again, maybe not. He won’t be the big dog anymore if his measely little nub gets placed next to the 67 inch sperm whale penis.

That’s 5 feet 7 inches, by the way. There is a penis longer than I am tall. Can you even imagine how big those swimmers must be?

My gawd, I’m going to have nightmares tonight.

The Lent Project

8 Mar

Ahhh Fat Tuesday. I remember you, long long ago. The hurricanes and masks and beads (bought, not “earned”) that littered the streets as happy Spring Breakers ran wild. Those were the days… And now? Adulthood. Which leaves 2 choices: do something grown up – like drink a bottle of wine, because wine is sophisticated, and delicious, or suffer through a horrendous hangover tomorrow while pretending I’m not staring at a blank computer screen waiting for lunch so I can go take a nap.

Also on the agenda today: deciding what to give up for Lent. Will it be fried food? Alcohol? Cookies, chocolate, candy, or even all sweets? Or the most blasphemous… CHEESE? Well I propose something different. Stop using Lent as a dieting tool and  make it about something more important. Something rewarding. Something that benefits others who have come to know the true meaning of sacrifice. I promise you this will leave a much better taste in your mouth than the left over Thin Mints you are glaring at every time you open the freezer (but you can’t just throw out thin mints….)

I bring you The Lent Project.

What is it you ask?

It’s very simple.

7 weeks, each Friday, I will donate to a charity of choice. It may not be a lot, but it will be something.

Luke 21: 1-4  1 As Jesus looked up, he saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. 2 He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. 3 “Truly I tell you,” he said, “this poor widow has put in more than all the others. 4 All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.”

What I promise not to do is blow half my paycheck on shoes, or nights out, or concert tickets and then justify skipping a donation because I am “poor.” I will give something that is substantial to me, and the sacrifice may be not affording something else that I want. But I am willing to bet that the result will be much sweeter.

Below are my charities. If you aren’t sure what you are doing for Lent, I encourage you to join me. It’s a win-win situation. Or pick your own charities. I am still looking for one more so please feel free to comment below with recommendations and why that charity is near and dear to your heart. My charitable donations don’t end with the Lenten season. If you post a charity and tell me why I should donate, I promise to donate in the future, and I mean that. It might not be tomorrow, but I will get to it.

1. March 11: The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society
In honor of a very dear childhood (and still current) friend, who kicked cancer’s ass well before 25, and didn’t lose a single ounce of spunk along the way. Girl can also rock a wig like none other. So this one’s for her.

2. March 18: Susan G. Komen
In honor and memory of countless women: family, friends, and strangers. For those who have found lumps, lost bumps, and never gave up. Also a shout out to Zeta’s national philanthropy – breast cancer – can’t deny that didn’t play a part.

3. March 25: Red Cross through SMCDallas for #dallas4japan
Funds will be matched 1 to 1 by Aquent  

4. April 1: The Jessica Fertitta Scholarship Fund
In memory of Jessica Fertitta (5/10/1985 – 2/17/2011). If you don’t know the story, you can read a little bit about it here I’ll be attending a Celebration of Life party this weekend, where I will be donating and of course buying a FRAT shirt in her honor. If you would like to donate, you can send a check made out to “Benefit of Jessica Fertitta” to the Michelle Smith account at the Community Bank of Texas in Beaumont or send money through paypal (ask for details).

5. April 8: Heroes for children (shout out to @KateOLynch and @BethLynch for the recommendation).
This organization is similar to St. Jude but Texas-centric. It provides financial and social assistance to families, within the state of Texas, with children (0-22 yrs of age) battling cancer. I love this quote – “Enabling families to focus on the most important part of treatment – the child.”

6. April 15: Scottish Rite Hospital
TSRHC treats Texas children with orthopedic conditions, such as scoliosis, clubfoot, hand disorders, hip disorders and limb length differences, as well as certain related neurological disorders and learning disorders, such as dyslexia.

7. Sunday, April 24: Donation to my family’s church in Southlake, TX: White’s Chapel
For providing me with stability, strength, knowledge, and many great memories throughout my life. I cannot describe how thankful I am that my family became involved with this church while I was young.

Please feel free to pass this post along and encourage anyone to join in on their own little mission. There are so many things we can do besides give up diet soda.

I’m off to find the baby in the King Cake. Happy Fat Tuesday y’all!

The dog

13 Jan

Yes, I realize I haven’t posted in 3 months. Am I sorry? No, I’m not sorry. I got promoted in October to a position that probably saved me from quitting my current job and then launched me into a whirlwind of advertising planning season that increased my already anxious heart into a full speed sprint.

But I’m not complaining, seriously. That promotion saved me.  It kept me from quitting right when I was planning to move to Austin. When I called my Mom, her first words were “Maybe God has a different plan for you…”  and I agree.

I love Austin. It is an amazing city. But I don’t need to be there right now. I need something new. I always do. My lease is up March 7. I’ll be moving out of my 2 bedroom apartment with my long-time-high-school-favorite-friend Rachel to a place borderline downtown/deep ellum. I’m going to miss her crazy, ADHD ass more than you can ever imagine. But living by myself, in a new part of town, is when I flourish.

Moving to Dallas 3 years ago without any of my college friends was a choice I second guessed for an entire year. But then some of them moved here, and  I got comfortable. I miss new places, new things, new beginnings, and I don’t need to move  more than 5 miles to remember that. I could move cross-country, but I just really love (re: NEED) my fam. Plus Texas has a plethora of guns and beef. YEA!

So I’ll be in Dallas for awhile. Probably a great while longer than “awhile.”

But the whole point of this post was to tell you exactly why I love Dallas-ish.


There were times when I was a teenager when I questioned my father’s existence. And then I became an adult and realized that everything about him was so “Me” that I might die. DIE. This man has no shame. None. But he knows what is important in his life. He is the rock of our family, hands down. You have never met a more supportive, loving, “sorr about the crazy-ass offspring, ” individual.

Christmas: All 3 kids were home. We went to Taco Diner for Christmas Eve, Eve,  because in Southlake it’s half priced mambo Taxi Night and obviously no Standerfer would pass that up!

My Dad ordered 3 margaritas/mambos. By the third one, he starts to explain how much he loves peeing off the porch. The family, thinking he is laughing at a college story,  soon realizes that  he is talking about present day, peeing off the porch with my sister’s 110lb lab Boomer, who is home for the holidays. Apparently, Dad actually quite enjoys taking Boomer for a late night/early morning piss in the back yard. Because good old dad is peeing right off the back porch with him. According to him, Boomer is pee-shy and needs a push (Um, no). Like turning on the faucet. Except my dad is the faucet.

Just some quality time between the guys . NBD.

And it’s not a secret, or an ashamed habit. By his standards.

My mother was appalled  (I think only because we have many Indian neighbors WITH CHILDREN who appreciate and promote covering up), but I can’t say any of us were shocked.

At that point we ordered the check. My parents are regulars. We don’t need people hearing about how when it’s cold outside “it’s fun to watch the steam rise off the grass.”

Welcome to the Standerfer Family. Can’t do much about your Dad peeing off the porch. If he’s doing this now I can’t even imagine the things he will do and say when he’s 80.

Happy belated holidays!

And for the record, No. You cannot have my Dad. He is awesomely mine and I will not give him up.