Friday, May 30, 2008
They've obviously narrowed down their target female demographic to British, Australian, and Canadian expatriates because they're really the only "mums" around here; everyone else is Mama or just plain Mom. I guess there's good news in all this if you're a love-lorn woman named Rose.....apparently, they'll do you for cheap.
So, I guess we all know exactly what the PLUS in Flowers PLUS is supposed to be mean. This place offers a full-service, one-stop, git-r-done shopping experience. It's definitely more deflower shop than flower shop.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
How much is that doggie in the window?
Well, I guess we should calculate that by the poundage, shouldn't we?
Our Church keeps questioning us via survey as to our food storage preparedness.
Honestly, most of the time we're just ecstatic that we've accomplished keeping our many mini-Infidel bellies filled up. I know that thinking about the future is important.....more than that, it's a commandment. We do have a small reserve but nowhere near the amount of supplies the church recommends per each household individual.
I'm thankful that we can add 85 pounds of fresh meat to our emergency food plan.
Some people give their dogs a flea bath.
We bathe our Reagan in meat tenderizers and steak seasonings.
Some people smother their dogs with love and affection.
We smother our Reagan with onions and gravy.
Some people feed their dogs homemade dog food.
We feed Reagan a fluffy bread crumb mix. It makes the most delightful stuffing.
Some people take their dogs on walks and to the doggy park.
We refuse to exercise Reagan. We want him fattened up.
Some people take pictures of their dogs.
We do too. And then we manually draw in the dividing lines that quarter him up into serving pieces.
Some people take their dogs to dog shows.
We take Reagan to the Meat Packers Of America Convention.
Some people teach their dog new tricks.
We've taught Reagan how to lay perfectly still inside a nice big Dutch oven.
Some people think that dogs are man's best friend.
I think 'Man's Best Friend' would make a great name for a dog meat seasoning packet.
Reagan is a beautiful dog on the outside but it truly is what's inside that counts, people.
Not to get all competitive and stuff.........but my dog is more delicious than your dog!
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Anyway, there's this one customer in particular on my route who suffers from an extreme bout of A-Hole Entitlement Syndrome. Poor thing. He's quite fond of standing outside in the pre-dawn hours with the express purpose of bellowing at me while waving his arms around wildly. You'd think that balding, middle-aged men residing in half a million dollar homes would have better things to do than harass their paper carriers, but no.
He demands his paper at 5:30 A.M. on the dot. That's not a problem for me because contractually that's the delivery deadline anyway. However, he's such a freakin Hershey Squirt, I purposely re-routed my entire delivery area to ensure that his paper will not arrive even one minute before 5:30. Mr. Hershey Squirts favorite trick is to wait outside on his sidewalk, cell phone in hand, to call the Chronicle the second his clock displays the magic numbers of 5-3-0 to report a 'NO PAPER' complaint. He does this incessantly even though at that same exact moment he can plainly see me making the curve to deliver his house. For those lucky individuals ignorant of the customer complaint system, the carriers get charged for complaints and it affects our overall service performance ratio. Yeah, as though this job isn't sucktastic enough. The least Mr. Hershey Squirt could do is call in a 'LATE PAPER' even though that's as dishonest as his 'NO PAPER' complaints and he knows it.
Our passive-aggressive tete-a-tete has gone on for the past year. Unbeknownst to Mr. Hershey Squirt though, my boss hates his pissy whining and always convinces the Chronicle to erase the fraudulent complaints off my record. So, basically the war between us had reached an impasse as both sides stalled in our obnoxious tacticas de guerra......until a few weeks ago.
The fluorescent green numbering on my truck clock read 5:31 A.M. I had already thrown the paper on the other side of the massive yard to escape the wrath of Mr. Hershey Squirt. He was waiting for me. He stepped out of the shadows and commenced to screaming hysterically while flailing his arms around.
Mr Hershey Squirt: YOU'RE LATE!!!! YOU'RE LATE!!!""
(He was so Mad Hatter-ish in his indignation I almost started singing, "FOR A VERY IMPORTANT DATE!" as a retort.)
After I made sure I had distanced myself enough from him that he could hear me but not box me about the ears with his fists of
ME: "According to my clock I am NOT late. And you know what else? (I began crazily pointing my thumbs to my chest) I'M THE COMPLAINT PERSON! That's right. Every.single.time. you call in a complaint it goes directly to ME, sucka!"
And then I sped away with my heart thudding and my newly woken up 12 year-old daughter, Stef Knee, sleepily rubbing her eyes while saying "Wow, I had this weird dream that you were calling some guy a sucka."
Yesssss, I have reigned victorious. Mr. Hershey Squirt has not called in a single complaint in three weeks. I emasculated him. I owned. I broke his spirit. I said I was going to bring it and I done brought it. I made him worship at the altar of Elastic. You see, Mr. Hershey Squirt is a wild and woolly rodeo beast in dire need of taming. If he was featured on Animal Planet he'd be classified as: a hideous hybrid creature consisting of mostly horse's patoot. I've been training for the big showdown with Mr. Hershey Squirt for nearly a year now. Who knew that the grand finale would boil down to an intense 8 seconds just like something out of a cowboy movie? 8 seconds was all it took to bring Mr. Hershey Squirt to his pudgy little knees. 8 seconds to reclaim my dignity and honor as Houston's number one newspaper carrier. 8 seconds to GLORY!
*As though you needed any further evidence of my awesomeness, here's my ranking as of May 12th. That's right, numero uno, baby! It's now May 27th and I've only received one complaint for the entire month. I told my boss that he should just address me as 'My Number One Carrier Of All Time And Eternity' from now on because it's the truth and the truth shall be proclaimed!
*I actually prefer working at night under the cloak of darkness. It's like a secret club and I can allow the naughty side of me to shine through more than I ever dare during the daylight hours. This------------> is how I "wave" to the select few customers that seem hell-bent on making my already difficult life even more difficult.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
If you did not/could not get your packages brimming with sock happiness mailed yet, have you contacted your buddy and/or contacted me? You have? Awwww, who's a good little sox swapper? Why, you are!
Not to seem overbearingly naggy but did you put on fresh underwear before leaving the house today, you know, just in case you get into an accident? Good! Did you remember to feed the dog and turn off the oven? Excellent! Have you sent Elastic some chocolate for all her hard work and as a reward for being such a wonderful person? You are just too sweet!
As you receive your socks, let me know and I'll publish your blog post link in my sidebar for all to gaze in wide wonderment at.
And now let me direct your attention to my most incredible Sox Partner, Jami, who sent me this fun little soxy threesome.
I really enjoyed the soxy interchange with you, Jami.........THANK YOU!
Do you know what happens when you start getting old? You give up the pretentious music snob act and just admit that you groove to Herb Alpert and the lusty sounds of his Tijuana Brass Band. You finally admit that you own Tony Orlando's Greatest Hits CD and can croon every single line of 'Knock 3 Times.' And for some cruel and unknown reason you admit that you can't stop thinking about Chuck Mangione 25 years past his music prime.
Chuck Mangione-Give It All You Got
This song is dedicated to fellow moldy oldie, Millie, who surprisingly enough has never heard of it despite having renditions performed by Leon Russell, Charlie Rich, Dwight Yoakam, and Elvis Presley. I kept singing one of the main lines from the song all last week.....last week when I was still a sprightly 33! It goes "My heart keeps telling me, you're not a kid at 33." Ain't that the truth, Danny.
Danny O'Keefe- Good Time Charlie's Got The Blues
If you need me I'll be over at the Regal Beagle with my Macrame Mamas Club where I'll be showing off pictures of my newly decorated home that features a mushroom motif and all new harvest gold appliances. Shazam!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
And Then I Had To Scream Hysterically At My Mini-Infidels....."Watch Where You Step, There's Naked Nuts Everywhere!!!"
I won't lie to you, I've seen many a Naked Nut in my life but never as many as the Naked Nut supply amassed on the shelves at our local 99 Cents Only Store.
Some heathen left their Naked Nut sack open and exposed to the world.
Well, the inevitable happened when a passing lady snagged the bag with her shopping cart thus spilling salty Naked Nuts everywhere.
I'll readily cry over spilled milk because it's freakin expensive but I refuse to cry over spilled dollar store Naked Nuts.
It was when I eagerly grabbed the Naked Nut sack to closely examine it further that I noticed the interesting expiration date.
Obviously, these are not just your average, ordinary Naked Nuts that go bad at the most inopportune moment. No, these little beauties are long-lasting Naked Nuts. They don't expire until 3009.
Whoa, who knew that Naked Nuts could achieve that kind of shelf life?
I propose that all of you who are serious about building up your family food storage go immediately to the 99 Cents Only Store to get your fill of Apocalyptic Naked Nuts meant to last a whole millennium.
Just think, your great-great-great-great-great grandkids can chomp down on your Naked Nuts 1,000 years in the future. A lasting legacy, to be sure.
I think I'm duty-bound to pass along this vitally important post in an e-mail to the Ward Preparedness Committee and possibly the Relief Society Presidency, too........anonymously.
We thank thee for the Naked Nuts we are about to receiveth. Amen.
I never expected so many people I've met through the bloggy thing to be so charitable and kind.
Both Carrot Jello and Bee wrote glowing posts dedicated to me for my birthday. That sort of loveliness always makes me sniffle a little.
And then Jean Knee called bright and early just to sing to me and let me know that she sent a hand-painted present that should arrive on the date of my other birthday. See, just a short Mr. Rogers trolley ride away into the Land Of Make-Believe my birthday actually falls on May 22nd.
Carrot Jello called to sing to me too in her very best Ethel Merman voice. She promised that she had just jumped out of a gigantic birthday cake with my name scrawled across it. Millie just "Called To Say, I Love You." No, not really. But she did call to wish me a Happy Birthday.
Tori sent me a really fun birthday card. So did Sodak Angel. Thanks, ladies!
AUBREY!!!! sent the most delish pair of orange polka-dotted, multi-purpose gloves. I just got them today. Now what to do with them first? Should I garden, wash dishes, slap my kids around with them......Oooooohh, I know, I'm going to blog with them on. THANKS AUBREY!
And now I'd like to return some of the birthday mojo happiness given to me:
You need to go and wish these lovely ladies a Happy Birthday also:
AUBREY (May 22)
SODAK ANGEL (May 22)
NO COOL STORY (May 28)
JEAN KNEE (May 31)
THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO COMMENTED YESTERDAY. IT REALLY DID MEAN A LOT TO ME. YOU SINGLE-HANDEDLY PULLED ME OUT OF THE DOLDRUMS SWAMP!
I have to work all day again today but I'll be seeing you all soon. Meanwhile, I dedicate this song to all of you who made me so very happy. :)
BLOOD SWEAT & TEARS- You Made Me So Very Happy
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
I know that it's a totally unrealistic expectation given that the our house is only 11 years old.....and we're the original owners, but I can dare to hope that life-changing money will just fall into my lap every once in awhile, can't I?
Truth be told, the only item in my attic of marginal interest or value may be the wide assortment of insects. I wonder how much the Museum of Natural Science would pay me for a genuine albino roach carcass?
Sunday, May 18, 2008
I debated with myself over what to wear. Should I strut my stuff and accentuate my floppy, flappy baby gut with a tight pair of gold disco pants or should I opt for the glittery black velvet mini-dress my mom called her 'Millennium Dress' right before she bequeathed it to me? (It's called a 'Millennium Dress' because nobody wants to see it more than once every 1,000 years) I decided that I wasn't going there to impress anyone so I wore my standard khaki pants/knit shirt uniform.
As I drove to the Ladies Night festivities I mentally warned myself not to get too crazy. I knew I needed to adhere to a two-drink restriction since I didn't have a designated driver with me. I also worried about what people at church would think if they saw me going in there. Would they assume I'm just a cheap hussy?
Originally, I didn't set out for Ladies Night with the intention of playing the part of a 'Pick-Up Artist' but I'm weak and prone to giving in to lusty temptations. I couldn't control my busy, probing hands; they were everywhere! Before the evening was even half-over, I scored. I silently hoped that Papi wouldn't be too upset with me for bringing home my conquest that I just bagged an hour earlier. He really hates it when I go out and score without him.
Thanks To Ladies Night At Nauvoo Books And Their Accompanying Sale I Scored:
1. A book, Starchild, found on clearance for the oldest Infidel daughter, Sunbum. (By the way, Sunbum LOVES this book)
2. A new pocket-sized Primary Children's Songbook to replace our old one with the broken binding and missing pages.
3. And also on clearance, a Book Of Mormon sticker variety pack.
This was the first Ladies Night I've ever attended that I didn't sorely regret the next day. :)
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Marvel Comics Inc. so thoroughly despised Ang Lee's (Mr. Brokeback Mountain) 2003 movie production of The Incredible Hulk they bought back the film rights. They then hired the cerebral but smokin hot actor, Ed Norton, to play the titular role as the hulking/hunky man-beast.
The movie drops June, 13.
Now then, those of you that have young sons/old sons/old husbands who think they're young, at home means that you will be purchasing some of the all new Incredible Hulk merchandise lining store shelves soon. Yes, you will, because you can't stand to hear your young son/old son/old husband who thinks he's young, whine and throw a Hulk-sized hissy in the middle of Target.
Likely the new
dolls action figures will look similar to the one pictured below. A nice hybrid of Hulks past and present as though they all got together, mated, and produced some green offspring.
"Awwww look, he has Lou Ferrigno's adorable mouth, Eric Bana's intense eyes, and Ed Norton's cute little nose."
A warning to all those foolish enough to wander off the major toy retailer path: The Dollar Stores couldn't afford to pay hefty merchandise licensing fees. Consequently, they took inspiration from another source for their own generic line of Hulk toys.
When he's not cheating on his wife with underaged and deranged teenagers, soliciting prostitutes, serving jail time, defrauding insurance companies, and being an all around slimeball, Joey Buttafuoco spends his days posing for discount Incredible Hulk stuff.
I'm not sure when Joey starred as The Incredible Hulk that would give him such figure-posing cred. Maybe the New York prison system produced Hulk! The Musical and Joey got the lead part based on his predilection for goofy pants, his hot temper, and his furry but animated "jazz hands."
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
While there, we visited a homeschooling friend out in the country who allowed us to pick a whole bushel of wild Dewberries growing free and natural all over her property.
No, we didn't pick this kind of Dewberry. Way too dry and hard to get to.
R.I.P Heavenly Dewberry.
We picked this kind of Heavenly Dewberry, instead!
So, what did we do with all the Dewberries we captured during our hunt? Well at first we joked around saying that if Scooby Doo was there he'd be called Scooby Dew. I pithily commented, "Tis better to pick Dewberries than to pick Dingleberries," which got the Ewwwwwww reaction I was looking for. Melody stepped on a couple Dewberries and we teased her about stepping in 'Dew Dew.'
But then we cut the Dew Dew and got down to the business of making a delectable treat out of them.......
SHOOBY DOOBY DEWBERRIES!
Yes, I'm making you travel the long clicking distance to my other blog to see what we did with the Dewberries. It's not costing you any gas money to get there so stop complaining!
Monday, May 12, 2008
A Stitch In Time Is Free....Eight Stitches For Your Son's Gashed Leg Is Not~ Ancient Infidel Proverb
The impact of his weight as he plunged heavily down upon a tire cover from my truck was enough to send the sharp tire cover clips straight into his uncovered leg, slashing it deeply in the process.
Papi rushed him to the new emergency clinic that just opened in front of our neighborhood where Buster bravely faced the doctor who expertly weaved and sewed in 8 stitches to close up the gaping leg wound.
Buster's a veteran of the Stich-And-Don't-Bitch Academy, though. See, he's already has his head stapled, a dislocated collarbone, ear wicks, and several rounds of simple, old-fashioned Stitch Me Up! fun. He has never cried during E.R. visits. Never.
In fact, Buster was completely stoic and shed nary a tear until he heard the staff going over the itemized list with Papi. When they got to the grand total for medical services rendered, he sobbed.
Even a 10-year old boy fully understands the gravity of a situation where there's no health insurance coverage to magically swoop in and save the day with simply the flourish of a pen as you sign your name on the dotted line.
We estimated each stitch to have cost around $71.50 each.
We barely had enough money to cover it, which would have undoubtedly been interesting.
Can they keep kids as collateral in an effort to collect a medical debt?!!?
Yes, my Buster is a one-of-a-kind, hand-sewn original now......and I've got the receipt to prove it.
As much as I'd like to think I'm an effusive omnipotent being reigning supreme over the whole sox-swappin Universe, I do still make errors. True, they're divine errors, but errors they are, nonetheless.
If you haven't gotten an e-mail from me with your Buddy information yet, let me know.
If for some reason you can't make the May 23rd shipping deadline, let me know!!!!(This one is really important so we can avoid any potential Sock Orphan problems)
If wild dingos ate your buddy's socks, prank call Meryl Streep using your best faux-Australian accent and let her know.
P.S. Whichever one of you that keeps outbidding me on the glittery silver Playboy Bunny socks at ebay, you better knock it off. After all, I know where you live!!!
Sunday, May 11, 2008
"Oh honey, a squishy Mother's Day pumpkin just for me? I raised such a thoughtful and wonderfully creative little angel. I'll be sure to remember this special, special gift when Christmas comes around. I hope I can get your pumpkin customized with a big Christmas present design cut-out right in the middle because that will indeed be your Christmas present."
I just returned from Wal-Mart. Dawn hadn't even broken and yet the store was filled with men bearing a desperate look in their eyes as they stumbled towards the card aisles only to find the Mother's Day section scavenged and picked nearly clean.
We saw one man putting together a few items in a lovely pastel floral gift bag. Included among the carefully selected items was a box of pale yellow Q-Tips and some mouthwash.
Nothing tells a woman how grateful you are for enduring 9 months of gestating your seed like personal hygiene products......and they were generic brand hygiene products at that!
I suppose the guy can be given points for originality in by-passing the pre-made gift baskets in order to make up his own.
Perhaps the wife is a closeted Q-Tip addict and the pale yellow-tinged Q-Tips are all she needs to make her rainbow Q-Tip collection complete.
I noticed some of the female employees wore gigantic smiles on their face as they watched the herd of crazed men scrambling around for something, anything to give to that special woman in their life on Mother's Day.
It's lucky that Wal-Mart doesn't sell these awesome Mother's Day pumpkins or some of you ladies would surely end up with one today for all your childbearing/child-rearing efforts.
I'll be making every effort to get your buddy information e-mailed to you by this evening or early morning. I still haven't decided what system I should use to pair everyone up.
I was going to consult the always mystical and always amazing Magic 8 Ball for help but my Christian heritage warned me against using such a powerful force of divinification.
That means I'll be playing 'Matchmaker, Matchmaker Make Me A Match, Catch Me A Catch, Find Me A Find' using more scientific means.
I know I promised Sock Buddy info. by Saturday but my Mom unexpectedly scored some free tickets to an Up With People performance last night and really how could I turn that down?
Sing it with me now......"Up, Up With Peeeooopppllee!"
Not only has the Up With People movement traveled the world since 1965 bringing messages of peace and assisting in various community projects but the founders are also the sons of famed actor, Anthony Quinn and they themselves are the fathers of our absolute favorite Infidel group, Hector On Stilts. It's all connected, people.
Here's a sample of the musical finery that Hector On Stilts is packing.
Watch for the e-mail from me. That's your checkered flag to begin the Sox Swappin Action!
Friday, May 09, 2008
I started another blog to post pictures of sweet recipe success and bitter recipe failures. Yeah failure is pluralized. I'm also going to be breaking down some food cost comparisons starting with homemade breakfast taquitos versus McDonald's version. All of my many crafty projects past, present, and future will go up over there too to spare you the agony of it all.
"For the love of Triscuits, if that Infidel Woman tries to foist even one more picture of her lame paper plate butterfly puppets on me I am going to pretend like I have Sudden Instant Implausible Blindness Syndrome."
Really, you may think I created another blog for me but in actuality it's all for you because I love you and want what's best for you.
Now, go read about how my daughter turned the tragedy of my busted-out jeans into a triumphant piece of art. Go read about how to create a simmering Chicken Dijon With Spinach for your family dinner tonight. GO!
The Infidel Woman Cooks!
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Ladies, Wouldn't It Just Be Easier To Buy A Branding Stick With Your Initials On It To Mark Your Man?
Manly Chrome Package: Check
Masculine Toolbox Installed: Check
Testosterone-Tinged Bumper Sticker Referencing Beer, Strip Clubs, Or The Confederate Flag: NOOOOO!
Here's a close-up of the bumper sticker. Yes, he loves his wife so much that he slapped this tacky declaration of redneck amore right across his dirty bumper. Is this ironic irony at work here or some sort of gummy adhesive sarcasm?
Or maybe I have it wrong and there's an alternate bumper sticker explanation. Perhaps it was specially manufactured by the W.H.A.P (Whipped Husbands Acting Penitent) Society which his wife is the President and founder of. Maybe the poor guy tried to intimate to the world that he, and he alone remains the sole alpha leader of the house and then he dared hang a pair of those detestably swingy Truck Nutz from his trailer hitch just to prove it. Maybe his wife gave him the bumper sticker slapdown as a punishment when she confiscated his Bumper Balls. Maybe he's just waiting for her to kick the bucket so he can change the W to an F and make that sticker read, 'I Heart Fife.' Fife as in Mayberry's own Barney Fife. What, isn't it manly to secretly heart Barney Fife?
Whatever. One day when I'm too lazy to show my Papi how much I love him through works and deeds and action I'll show just throw an 'I Heart Papi' sticker onto my truck bumper. That should take care of it.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
I guess those guys who laboriously write out your name on a grain of rice could pen some numbers onto my skin tags but really I'd just rather remove them than even contemplate skin tag decorating ideas.
Now you know the heartbreaking truth. I suffer from the aesthetic agony that is excessive skin tags. I'm too young to have so many skin tags. Sure, I just referenced Minnie Pearl and I have wild fantasies involving hottie Fred McMurray from My Three Sons, but I'm still young, dammit!
I know what you're saying to yourself right now as you stampede away from me, my blog, and my flawed skin, SKIN TAGS?!!?? Oh nooooeeesssss. Just know this: I'm taking care of the problem all on my own.
I started playing Tag by myself last week. Yeah, Solitary Tag...... Like that song Neil Diamond sang, "I'll be what I am, playing Solitary Tag. Solitary Tag." Wait, maybe that was 'Solitary Man' but I'm sure that Solitary Tag is what Neil meant. I bet he too suffers from haggy-baggy skin tags.
Soooo, just how do you play Solitary Tag? Well, it involves steely determination and a really good pair of tweezers.
I've given birth completely unassisted in the bath tub of my own home. I figure that gives me enough cojone power to conquer almost any obstacle.
I squeezed the nasty little skin bugger until it finally surrendered. It gasped its last breath and a few days later the detestable skin tag fell off my face and more importantly off the face of the earth, too.
I couldn't even find it to display in a graphic but tastefully done scrapbooking layout. It was just gone. I don't believe in skin tag reincarnation, either. Well, unless that pimple on my butt is really the reincarnated skin tag from my face! Ewwwww (I saved you the trouble from having to say it yourself)
I'm looking into having my trusty sidekick, Senor Tweezers, immortalized in bronze and mounted on a special plaque for the willingness to go above and beyond the call of tweezer duty in order to annihilate the enemy.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
I'm just messing with you. Of course there's rules because anything worth doing has a plethora of rules and regulations attached to it. It's just a necessary evil to make sure that you all know how the sox game is to be played out and we don't end up with any sox-starved individuals out looking for sox in all the wrong places.
Let's Practice Some Safe Sox, Shall We?:
1. Send me an e-mail(elasticwaistbandlady at yahoo.com) with your full name, mailing address, and blog address. I know some of you are leery about revealing personal identification so I'll try to pair you with an online buddy you already "know." I want to keep this somewhat domestic to save exchange buddies on exorbitant shipping fees. Canada and U.S.A only please. (except Infidel blogger favorite, jams o'donnell from England :)
2. Your mission is to scour the ends of the earth to find two pairs of the funkiest, goofiest, gnarliest socks chock full of the most pure, unadulterated WTF?-ery known to mankind. Ummm, not to be snobby, but please make sure they're NEW socks. I mentioned "funky" as in footwear design not in mailing somebody used socks with built-in toe funk.(Feel better about swapping some steamy hot sox with strangers now, Jean Knee?)
3. Sign-up Deadline: Friday May 9, 2008
Shipping Deadline: Friday May 23, 2008
Look, we all have moments when things go unexpectedly craptastical but please make sure you can fulfill your end of the exchange before signing up. Nothing is sadder than seeing the tear-streaked faces of your buddy looking out at you from the windows of the Sock Orphanage. For the love of humanity, don't allow your exchange partner to become another hopeless Sock Orphan statistic because I'd really hate to send out my rogue band of Sock Terrorists to enforce compliance. Yeah, my terrorists may be wearing Hello Kitty socks and socks with dancing chickens on them and maybe even glittery disco ball socks....but don't let the wussy socks fool you. They are a fearsome bunch!
4. We want to see your soxy goodies! When you receive your socks, stage a provocatively soxy photo shoot, then whore them up on your blog for all the world to see.
Remember you have until Friday to sign up. I'll e-mail you your sock buddy's information on Saturday. Now, get out there and have you some fantastic sox experiences.........so fantastic you won't even have to fake it. Yeah!
Self-Proclaimed SOXAHOLICS(So Far):
Jean Knee (Put Some Polka Dots On It!)
Alice (Honey Pie!)
Aubrey (Aubrey Annie!)
Jami (Sadly, Jami has not given in to peer pressure and joined the bloggy revolution just yet)
Bee (Bee's Musings!)
Melissa (Mejojac's Memos!)
Diana (Diana's Dumb Stuff!)
Lori (Garbled Gab!)
Randi (Just Randi!)
Suzanne (Suzanne Loves Roses!)
Elizabeth W (How's That Workin For Ya?)
Glittersmama (Random Thoughts!)
Nancy Face (Nancy's Nonsense Of Nothingness!)
Jennifer (I Live At The Circus!)
Lisa (A Backstage Pass!)
Rhonda (The B.S. Cafe!)
Lola (Lola Again!)
Reina (Kingdom Of The Birds!)
Tracy (The Neverending Mind!)
Lauren Face (Busy Bee Lauren!)
Tricia (123 Check Out The Family!)