Meanwhile, Deep In The Heart Of Texas........

The inferno like heat relentlessly baked, broiled, and roasted a visiting Carrot until her exterior reached a feverish shade of red.
We may have overcooked Carrot a teensy bit in the scorchingly hot Texas sun. She can never again package herself as a raw Carrot although thanks to the aftermath of her intense sunburn she can now be marketed as a pre-peeled Carrot or a southern-fried Carrot. I bet that's a delicacy somewhere.
What did we do and where did we go during the 5 glorious days that Carrot stayed here in Houston? Here's a brief rundown:

• I treated Carrot to her very first Happy Hour where we indulged in Everything's Bigger In Texas-sized mixed drinks. (Half-Priced Cherry Limeades at Sonic Drive-Thru are fantastique!)
• We finally got to experience the thrill of being on a slow boat to China.....quite literally. Yes, when we shelled out the exorbitant fees to embark on the guided Riverwalk tour we had no idea that our voyage would be on the Love Boat's sister ship, The Dull Boat. We weren't sailing on a ship of fools. It was more like a ship of drools as people nodded off from sheer boredom. You know it's a bad tour when the host excitedly points out Christmas lights strung around a tree off on the left and people dining on overpriced pasta on the right. Well, that's when we actually could understand what Captain Moses was saying. Most of the time his accent was a cross between Mr. Bean, the teacher on Charlie Brown, and that Mush Mouth from Fat Albert. Captain Moses proved incapable of such lofty goals as parting the Red Sea. In fact, Captain Moses couldn't even part his own hair. He slammed into the pier upon docking leading Carrot to exclaim "HOLY MOSES!!!!" The elderly lady in the back of the boat was our favorite. She churlishly yelled out such charming sentiments as: "Back in my day the boats moved a lot faster than this....." and "Hey, is that Captain even speaking English??!?"
• Carrot moved me and I moved Carrot. Together, side-by-side in the claustrophobic stalls of the Antique Mall, our bowels moved in perfect harmonic unison. That's true friendship.
• Everyone knows that avowed church slackers plop themselves in the very back of the chapel so they can be as ornery as they wanna be without detection from the more pious of the congregation. The Infidel Family always parks their rears in the rear. Always. Carrot's soaring angelic voice rose above all of our section's off-key hymnal mumblings that we try to pass off as singing. Carrot was the pride and joy of the back aisles last Sunday.
• I nearly collapsed in laughter when our Relief Society leader perkily announced that we'd be "waxing cheese" at this week's Enrichment meeting. Carrot and I were the only ones who thought it was funny. I suspect that none of the sweet sisters in that room made inappropriate jokes about hairy cheese triangles that needs a good Brazilian waxing. Some churchy people wax poetic.....we wax cheese.
• Carrot confided in me that the crushed ice from our refrigerator leaves the best aftertaste. I told her to write up her testimonial for inclusion in our upcoming Smiling Infidel Travel Lodge brochure. "Infidel ice is the best!!! It makes you forget that everything else there tastes like overcooked butt."
• While feasting at Dumass Tacos, Carrot cheekily approached a group of redneck construction guys and asked them to repeat the song she'd heard them crooning while waiting in line. It involved titties and beer and rhymed with phrases like "Thank God I'm not queer." They happily complied and then allowed her to snap pictures of them with their redneck cruiser: A jacked-up, souped-up, painted-up Dodge truck. Then they revved their engine and squealed the tires on their way out of the parking lot leaving me and Carrot to sing "Just a good ole' boys not a meanin' no harm......" for the rest of the day.
• While here, Carrot lovingly slaved over a hot stove to make us coffee cake. It didn't have any coffee in it. She also made us Monkey Bread. It didn't have any monkeys in it.
• We successfully completed the Houston Buffet Invitational competition. Carrot now understands why Houston is known for cheap eats. She also now understands why Houston has won the title of "Fattest City" by Men's Health magazine four years in a row.
• My mom gave me tickets to see Happy Days: The Musical. Carrot and I stealthily upgraded ourselves to box seats during the intermission so we could get a closer look at The Fonz in his super tight jeans. We were so close we could see one of the actors spit when he started to sing. Fresh Bonafide Theatrical Spittle On Tap. Awesome.
• We both got emotional while singing along with Dan Fogelberg. ( I know!)
• I confided in Carrot that nobody else in this world can make me laugh until I wet my pants like she can. I'll be packing extra undies in my purse in preparation of the next Carrot rendezvous.

Things We Didn't Do While Carrot Was Here:

• We did not visit NASA or Space Center Houston. I was secretly fearful that we'd get accidentally launched into space like in that cheesy 80's movie "Space Camp."
• We didn't get around to solving world peace or global warming. However, Carrot did buy us some nifty bedside tables which we outfitted with some super green energy saver lightbulbs. This little light of mine, I'm going to let it shine......
• We never stopped singing Glen Campbell's monster hit, "Galveston." The slightest provocation would launch Carrot into crooning the main chorus and then I'd join in. Turns out the main chorus is the only lyrics we know. "Galveston, oh, Galveston......"
• Carrot met both my mom and dad and yet she still didn't work up the courage to ask for my hand in marriage. What's that all about?
• Papi treated me like a lady of leisure during Carrot's visit; even going to work in my place. Consequently Carrot didn't get to fulfill her "Day In The Life Of Elastic" dreams. We did eat chili dogs twice in one day, though. I think that more than makes up for it.
• Despite sharing close bathing/bathroom/clothes changing/sleeping quarters we never accidentally saw each other naked. That honor is reserved solely for MILLIE who saw me in all my naked Infidel glory last year in Oregon. Poor, poor Millie.
• Convince Carrot to move here. Oh well, there's always next time she visits.

I'm Putting Some Carrot Jello Into My Bed Tonight!

Ah, the great state of Texas..........
It's home to a many and varied wondrous things.
Things such as those cute little critters known as armadillos. Things such as armies of ready and willing taxidermists that can transform the tragedy of a squished roadkill armadillo into the triumph of a kitschy beer bottle holder provided you don't mind armadillo particles in your alcoholic beverages.
Yes, it's great to be a Texan....most of the time.
Sadly though, despite searching near and far, there' s simply not a satisfying and delightful Carrot Jello to be found anywhere.
Oh believe me, I've been in pursuit of a replicate Carrot Jello companion for years, all to no avail. How hard is it to find some decent Carrot Jello around these parts? A good Carrot Jello is bouncy and beaming with shininess on the outside while also showing there's substance on the inside....well, substance aside from all the shredded vegetables.
Regrettably, I've only found pale imitations of Carrot Jello greatness that either had a surprisingly fruity center or worse yet, absolutely nothing inside.
Carrot Jello doesn't come in a pre-molded design for there's nothing quite like a good Carrot Jello. It's a recipe that stands on its own, totally unique from the other moldy Carrot Jello wannabes.
I found the best Carrot Jello two summers ago in another state. It wasn't the kind that you can pack up and take home with you though I may or may not have tried to slyly stuff Carrot Jello into my suitcase to smuggle back home.
Anyway, I've been going through severe Carrot Jello withdrawal symptoms ever since.
So really, what choice did I have but to get on the phone and beg for a fresh shipment of Carrot Jello to be sent to me straight from the wilds of Seattle?
My bundle of Carrot Jello arrives today. I plan on experiencing a complete and total Carrot Jello overdose for the next 5 days.
I secretly want to keep Carrot Jello all to myself but if some of you are just dying to know where you too can get a heaping helping of delicious Carrot Jello you can go to her amazingly funny blog here: CARROT JELLO
She's also 100 percent cuter than that inferior Carrot Jello picture I posted at the top.
We have a whirlwind itinerary all lined up that includes: A stop to meet with the royal proprietor of Dumass Tacos, a date with the karaoke machine at Incredible Pizza (we're definitely going to rock a "Brandy" duet), dual chin plucking marathons, and maybe, as time permits, we'll even engage in some adventures in roach killing.
Here in Texas the roaches are not only as long as your middle finger but they also fly. We'll need cucaracha nets and safari hats equipped with a built-in RAID sprayer.
Act now and maybe some of you can book this first-class Carrot Jello to show up in your city for a special appearance. Perhaps this can turn into the Carrot Jello World Tour 2009. The first stop on the tour? H-Town: Home of The Smiling Infidel!

The Smiling Infidel Family Versus Hurricane Ike

Thanks so much to all the very special-verrryyyy special-guest bloggers that have been standing proudly on the Smiling Infidel poop deck the past few days and navigating her through the choppiest of blog waters.

We are now on Day #5 with no sign of restored electricity in sight. Like Noah releasing a dove from the ark to seek out dry land, we keep tossing our sneakers that have been tied together up in the air, praying for it to find an intact power line to string themselves up on. So far, no good.

Out of sheer boredom, Papi and I are now gold star members in the Hurricane Club. It's kind of like the Mile High Club, except you get blown (around) more and leave behind a lot of damage and debris.

So, here's the post I was slaving away on last Friday moments before we lost power courtesy of Hurricane Ike:

It's nearly 11:00 at night. We're just a few hours away from the much ballyhooed arrival of Hurricane Ike.

The tempestuous gusts of tropical storm wind has really begun to increase as evidenced by the swaying of the pine trees surrounding us..........and the special brand of Houston "Trash Tumbleweeds" blowing down the now-empty residential street where the Infidel family resides.

So did you bring back that permission slip that I gave you? You're going to need it because I'm taking you on a picture-filled field trip into the heart of our Hurricane Ike Preparation Day. Hurry up, go forge your mom or dad's signature.

Come on, you know this isn't the first time you've ever done such a thing.

Observe our special assembly of The Rainbow Flashlight Coalition. We're a very diverse family that doesn't discriminate against flashlights regardless of color, size, or shape.

CRANK THIS, Souljah Boy! Thanks to my years spent honing my hand-cranking skills on the Championship Homemade Ice Cream circuit, cranking up out little Freeplay radio is a gripping but simple task.

It's Wednesday now. I'm not giving you an updated picture of my pantry because it's starting to look sad. Below is how it looked last Friday.
We've been eating our meals straight out of cans just so we don't have to wash out bowls and plates. We're sinking lower and lower down the scales of civilized society. I think we're now just one step away from eschewing the life of finger bowls and salad forks forever. However will we get invited to a Posh Spice Dinner Banquet now, I ask you??!!??

My water bill has erroneously read $700.00 for the month. I say erroneously. The water company says "NOT erroneously. Pay up." At least our bottled water only set me back around 15 bucks.

The oldest Infidel son, Buster, will henceforth be referred to as "The Little Water Drummer Boy."
Buster made sure our water drums were cleaned, filled, and ready to go. I'm hoping that our Homeowner's Association narc that keeps harassing us about weeds in the cracks of our driveway stops by so we can play a little dunking game with him using our large-enough-to-hide-a-man's-body water drums. Wouldn't that be so much fun??!?

The mighty Infidel truck found secure housing in our garage for the first time ever.
The Infidel spawn call it a "GAY-RAJ."
I sincerely hope that we never actually meet a gay guy named Raj because that might be a bit awkward.

*Special Thanks to our neighbor who has allowed us to run a line to his generator today. He thinks I'm using it to vacuum and cook. Right. I have priorities, people!*

What's Fishier Than a Catholic on Friday? I Am!

I know what you Infidelphiles are thinking. You think you have me pegged. "I know a lot about Elastic. I know her butt sweats profusely," you're thinking. "Her husband's name is Papi and he's a sexy-Mexi hunka hunka burnin' queso dip. Her six mini-Infidels spork-fight like nobody's business and one kid was accidentally born in the tub. Elastic yelled the F word at that guy once. Yeah, I have Elastic pegged."

I'm here to tell you, in the midst of my Rocked-like-a-Hurricane Blogtopia, that you don't know me as well as you might think.

What many of you Infidel-ites may not have realized is that I have utter and utmost love for all things seafaring. Seafood, sea urchins, seamen, Chicken of the Sea... no creature residing in the Seven Seas is safe from me and my undying fishy affection.

Why, just the other day I was telling a fish story to my adorable, charming, mustache-bleaching friend, the incomparable Millie Chicken. I said to Millie:

"Millie, my love, whose lips are impossibly moist and appealing..."

Millie was a bit grossed out by this, I could tell, but continued to listen politely because that's what she does at any cost: listen politely. She's just that kind of girl.

"... Millie my angel, do you know what I love most in the world?"

"Me?" she guessed, tossing back her mahogany hair and batting her eyelashes.

"So close, but sadly, no... there is one thing on earth - OK, seven other things on earth - that I love more than you. No, actually eight, because Papi and the six kids are the first seven and then I was going to tell you this other thing that I really have a hankering for and I got so discombooberated that I lost count."

"Uh-huh," Millie intoned. I could tell she was getting bored. Of course - the topic had turned away from herself to something else.

"I really love fish."

"Fish?"

"Yes. Fish. I love to eat them. I even love to write songs about eating fish. How's this: Fishedy doo and a fishedy dye... Sammy Davis, Jr. had one glass eye..."

Millie tried to covertly glance at her watch - it was obvious she was uncomfortable - and then looked up at me. Her face was strange: it wore the look of someone who'd recently rocked out hard to Rod Stewart's "Infatuation" but had suddenly remembered that headbanging is best left to people under the age of twenty. Either that, or she was suffering a sudden attack of gas.

Then, it finally hit her. I'm talking it probably took a good fifteen minutes.

"You. Eat. FISH?"

"Yes, my choicest morsel."

"That is just sick," she spat in my face.

"Why, my dear, my darling one?"

"My... best... friend," she sniffled noisily into a yellow embroidered handkerchief, "was maimed by a harpoon!"

She whipped out this picture:

"They even had her STUFFED and MOUNTED!" she sobbed into my shoulder.

Well. Was my fish-face red that day.

I didn't stick around to get the rest of the story - a nagging voice in my fish-addled brain wondered how this was even possible - but you can imagine how awkward things have been between me and my beloved Millie ever since.

And that, my friends... is a fishy story.

Miss Elastic Went To Sea, Sea, Sea To See What She Could See, See, See.....In Seattle!

There's an extremely obvious reason why I nicknamed myself elasticwaistbandlady. I'm a best friend to Lee's Comfort Waist pants line and a mortal enemy to belts and belt loops everywhere.

So, I purchased my plane tickets to Seattle back in March- a full 5 months ahead of the Bloggy Beach Party event. I specifically requested the window seat because I couldn't imagine having my fatty white self squeezed like marshmallow fluff between two unlucky plane passengers. Guess what? Yes. I got to play CHUNKY MONKEY IN THE MIDDLE both there and back. Yay me. Luckily, all 4 gentleman that endured sitting cheek-to-cheek with me through a 4-hour flight were gracious and kind individuals.

Have you ever seen a Carrot sprouting black hair before? I did! Carrot Jello and her lovely new black-bobbed haircut met a huffing-and-puffing sweaty me at the Seattle airport baggage claim area. Carrot then whisked me off for a tour of the little Jet City she calls home.

Pike Place Market is the must-see Seattle tourist mecca so that's where Tour Guide Carrot shuffled me off to. We would have gone to the Space Needle but they charge admission. That would not have fit into my itty-bitty vacation budget plans at all.

Ummm, at the Pike Place Market, we saw men.....in bloody aprons......... like they just wandered off the Texas Chainsaw Massacre movie set.....and they were throwing fish to and at each other in a frenzied game of Seafood Scramble which can only be seen live on the Salmon Sports Network.

The fish slapping show was okay but I was more impressed with the tantalizing smells seeping into the seaside market air courtesy of the numerous cafes and walk-up restaurants. Carrot and I dined on big fat chicken gyros from Mr. D's Greek Delicacies. Carrot's gyro dripped all over the place with the cucumbery goodness of tzatziki sauce. I was too cheap to pay the extra $2.00. Even though I wanted to, I refrained from licking the sauce off the wax paper before she threw it away. They also served the most lip-puckering glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade known to mankind. It was sour enough that I think it curdled any future breast milk I might produce. That wasn't any fluke either. We went to another food stand where I bought and gagged my way through their own competing version of The World's Most Bitter Lemonade.

I resisted on the first trip walking past the alluring, treats-stuffed window of the Piroshky, Piroshky Russian bakery. On the second market run-through, though, I caved in to temptation and split a raisin poppyseed cinnamon roll thingie with Carrot. It was piping-hot, and fresh-from-the-oven delicious!

While meandering through the chaotic downtown Seattle streets looking for a place to park, we passed the notorious Lusty Lady Cabaret at least 5 times. I like anything with "FREE" in the title, but alas, we did not spend the afternoon at the Lusty Lady despite the promise of FREE ADMISSION posted on their sign.

The first Thursday afternoon of each month is FREE ADMISSION day at the Seattle Art Museum so we elected to spend some time there instead of that naughty Lusty Lady place. We were on a mission bent on broadening our horizons and educating our artistic palettes.

Oh look, someone placed a toilet that survived a gang graffiti war right in the middle of the Seattle Art Museum showfloor. Wait, what? You mean that's one of the displays? Right.

This commodal masterpiece dates to the year 1964. If you look closely at this work of art, you'll observe the artist's fanciful rendering of coiled up turds that have survived the last 44 years. What a wondrous glory! I used to do that with brown Play-Doh as a child. Who knew that you could get paid for your turd rolling skills?

We also oohed and ahhed at a bunch of hanging art pieces that had "Well, Duuuuuhhhh!" titles. For instance, there was a hatchet buried into the top of a window frame with spoons and stuff attached to it. Oddly enough it was called, "A Window Frame With A Hatchet At The Top And Other Objects." I gotthisclose to a real live Andy Warhol. It was the one with the gun-slinging Elvis's (Elvii?) scrolled across it.

I got to take pictures of this LDS Chapel/Stake Center in the Seattle suburbs. The spire on that thing absolutely amazed me. I marveled at how it descends all the way down, smack into the middle of the foyer area. It reminded me of those giant neon arrows that restaurants and night clubs use to attract attention to their place. I told Carrot they wouldn't need missionaries in that area anymore if they would just add some blinking lights to their super-sized spire.

As promised, Carrot took me on a Value Village tour where she utilized the assistance of a marked down wheelchair with no brakes to show me around her cut-rate stomping grounds. I tried to buy us matching fluorescent-orange fanny packs from Howard Johnson's. They were only a buck! Sadly, I realized that to accommodate my girth I would have had to buckle two of them together.

I learned an ingenious little trick at Value Village: If you should ever break one of your crystal dishes you can salvage the lid by placing a piece of cut felt underneath it. The dish may be gone but the crystal lid beauty lives on!

Value Village was selling shelf-after-shelf filled with useless felt-bottomed crystal lids.

You can always find Pooh, Winnie or otherwise, down at Ye Olde Honey Bucket Port-a-Pots.

So then Carrot and I-triumphant from our Value Village foray- were tooling through the hilly suburb streets, listening to her Neil Diamond's Greatest Hits CD when we happen to look over and fortuitously see this bumper sticker slapped on the back of an old white Buick. And then, it was ON.......I told Carrot to speed up so we could get next to the car and sing Neil Diamond as loud as if we were Neil Diamond groupies who named our kids Shiloh and Sweet Caroline just to honor him. Carrot cranked up the Carrot Van stereo and we belted out Solitary Man at the top of our lungs with the van windows down......and then we glanced over at the Neil Diamond bumper sticker car to see their reaction. It was a humiliated-looking young teenage boy with a floppy EMO hairstyle. He was desperately trying to not even shift his eyes a fraction of an inch our way.

We laughed along to the rest of the song, too drunk with our dorky, teen-repellent power to finish the lyrics.

No wonder Washingtonians all seemed so smiley and cheerful.......who wouldn't be happy when there's some Big O action around every corner??!?

*It took me two weeks to write up this Great White Infidel Goes To The Pacific Northwest vacation update. One day I might get around to showing you all our most excellent bloggy beach adventures. One day.*

And Now All My Blog Friends Know That I'm Rated X.......They Saw The Tell-Tale Size Sticker I Left Behind On My Shirt

I happily made it back home from Summer Blog Party 2008 adventures alive which is a very good thing because who else is going to take care of the mountains of laundry that greeted me at the front door?

I didn't really sleep at all the entire weekend. No, there wasn't any vampire kitties, I just wanted to soak up the sprightly essence of all 14 blogger ladies I was hanging out with. You can't do that if you're laying unconscious in a bed. I can sleep when I die.

I've just completed all the stages of Blog Party 2008......Blog Party Buildup, Blog Party Breakdown (trying to decide what to pack and what to buy for blog friends), Blog Party Boom-Shaka-Laka (while partying and shoulder-shaking with blog buds), and finally the last step, Blog Bust (when a weekend with no responsibilities comes to a close and I had to immediately trot off to work as soon as the plane landed).

When I have a spare moment I'll write the requisite Blog Party recap complete with pictures.

Here's some highlights:

1. The Pacific Ocean is nipply cold. I never got the chance to wear my bathing suit. However, one lucky bloggy lady opened the door and saw me in my birthday suit. Her vision is still intact, thankfully.

2. Thanks to Aubrey and Glittersmama I now have the sweetest smelling eyeballs of any blogger you'll ever meet.

3. Nobody bought me lunch and tolerated my endless and inane stories. I am now a believer that there really is such a thing as a free lunch contrary to what others may say. I had the salmon. :)

4. Carrie, Millie and I may be married 30-ish Mormon mommies but we still got what it takes to attract dirty old men who chatted us up about oysters while asking us to bite some seaweed while they took pictures. If you're reading this guys, I hope you aren't still spillin tears in your beer that we didn't make it for Happy Hour at the Cougar Bar. We're not cougars, after all. Nope, we be a hottie trio of MILF's!

5. Carrot Jello didn't throw me out of her van even when I was stomping the floorboard on my imaginary brake pedal. Thanks Carrot! I also got to sit at her computer where she makes all her bloggy magic come to life. *sigh*

I'll see you all later when I'm not out in 95 degree weather working. It was 50-64 degrees in Oregon. Such a contrast to go from sweat-free Blog Princess back to a perspiring and stinky Blog Toad in just a matter of a 4 hour plane trip.

Elastic And The Hellacious Case Of The Heat-Rashed Rack.....

Alternately Titled:
Elastic And The Sun-Baked Boobs Of Doom

I'm usually loathe to admit this.......buuuuut, I am a woman chock-full of B.S.
Some days I'm so overflowing with B.S. that it's actually quite painful. The B.S. also seeps out onto my clothing in public which is a grossly mortifying experience.

Oh, don't you even try to sit there all smug while you self-righteously judge me and my glut of B.S. Scientifically speaking, you too have suffered from acute B.S. affliction at least once in your life. Yes, the heartbreak of Boob Sweat knows no gender or species barrier. It can adversely affect man, woman, and chicken alike. I know, because I've seen those sweaty chicken breasts under the heat lights at KFC.

Sadly, if left untreated, B.S. (Boob Sweat) will continue to progress and morph into full-blown Rack Rash. Just last week I fell victim to the most agonizing onset of Rack Rash while out working in the hellishly humid tropical clime that defines Houston during the summertime. I could scarcely breathe because the slightest chest movement triggered a new round of stinging pain and me squealing "Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow." There's no governmental discrimination protection for Rack Rash sufferers' either. All my dreams of one day waitressing at Hooter's have been dashed.

And then, just when I'd tearfully resigned myself to a life of itchy, sweaty, burning bazongas, bloggy friend Alice "If There Was A Problem, Yo I'd Solve It" Honey Pie rode to my rescue and sent me this fine product in the mail.

Skeptically, I broke my conservative nature by liberally applying a heaping helping of Anti Monkey Butt Powder straight to the stricken Ta-Ta Territory.

What happened in the next 24 hour period can only be aptly described by the cast of Fiddler On The Roof: "Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles!"

This BEFORE picture allows you to clearly observe my depiction of the epidemic boob outbreak without me showing you my actual boobs. Look at them, pity them...... it's as though someone messed up a line of Shakespeare and demanded that "a pox be upon you and your bosom!" A chicken pox.

And now here's the dramatic artistic rendition of the events that unfolded after the use of Anti Monkey Butt Powder. Do you see what I see? The proof has manifested right before your very eyes that Anti Monkey Butt Powder really does perform the stupefying feats that the label claims.....BEHOLD! Just a sprinkle a day helps keep boob sweat away......

(Don't be alarmed. Only the irritating rash vacated my mountainous premises when I used the powder. My boobs didn't really disappear.)

I've been converted to the House Of The Anti Monkey Butt True Believers. That talc powder miraculously eradicated the angry spotty-dots. It took me from Reddish Rack Rash to Calm And Collected Calamine Cleavage in less time than it takes for Fergie to choke out the words to her 'My Humps' song.

Ahhhh yes, sweet relief. Thanks to Alice and the Anti Monkey Butt Powder, my delicate alabaster boobage has been restored. I got my humps, my humps, my lovely lady lumps.....Now, NEW AND IMPROVED WITHOUT ANY BUMPS!

If You Can Value The Worth Of A Person By Their Birthday Gifts Then I'm Exceedingly Valuable!

Unexpected Presents From People Whom I Adore......I'm Not Sure If I'm Deserving Of Such Niceties But I Sure Do Love It!

The talented Melissa from Mejojac's Memos used her phenomenal jewelry making skillz to craft this lovely bracelet and earrings set specifically to match my new dress.

And as if that wasn't enough she fed my sox addiction just a little bit more with this bevy of sock beauties. Thanks Melissa!

Aubrey sent these scrumptious orange gloves just in time because they'll look amazing with the gown I picked out to wear to the Mean Mommy Ball. Gloves are important when reprimanding children, husbands, competitive clearance rack hags who won't shove off even when you subtly elbow them, and annoying dogs that bark all night because they won't leave any tell-tale fingerprint marks. Thanks Aubrey!

My favorite Arizonians of all time Nancy Face and her stunning bride-to-be daughter, Lauren Face sent this happy little(and VERY generous) Target gift card featuring an oozing, slimy blob. That's right, I'm no longer a blogger. I'm a blobber now. Not pictured is the ginormous bag of Skittles also mailed alongside the card.
If you ever need someone to make candy evidence disappear my mini-Infidels can and will get the job done. There's wasn't even a discernible trace of rainbow colored streaks left behind when the mini-Infidels wrapped up 'The Skittles Hit.' Thanks Face Ladies!

Jean Knee proved conclusively the theory I scientifically hypothesized after watching Saturday Night Live......A Party In A Tube Is WAY Better Than A Dick In The Box. Truly.
The best part was the envelope stuffed full of enough funds to pick out any one thing my heart desires at the dollar store. Jean Knee knows and understands the real me. She also sent balloons with a warning that they aren't to be used as contraceptives. I might have read the note a little too late. Ooops. The tube was also jam-packed with lots of polka dot confetti. I opened the tube while sitting on my bed. I'm now sporting an all-over polka dot look for the Summer 2008 season. Thanks Jean Knee!!!

And in Sox-Crazed Maniacs News I thought you all would be interested to note that almost half of us received or gave a variation of the ever popular faux Converse high-top socks as modeled by my daughter. Several received socks that look like cowboy boots and I noticed a LOT of frog motif socks popping up at Sox Exchange participant blogs. At least two people received the exact same pair of pink-striped seahorse socks and another two received knee-high socks with flames on them.

Maybe Alice can work her graph magic and come up with a funny chart for us to signify the final sock duplicate tally. Think about the enormity of the soxy swap situation. The 22 ladies who participated represent different religions, different ages, different geographic locales and yet we all demonstrated a scary sense of like-mindedness when left on our own to blindly pick out socks for our buddy. Weird.

If you haven't received your socks yet, e-mail me and let me know. I had a great time organizing this, ladies. Thanks. It went so smoothly that I'd really like to get a Christmas Ornament Exchange together in November. :)

You Can Always Rely On Me For Frank Sox Advice And Sox Pictorials

Yesterday, May 23, 2008, was the shipping deadline for the Sox-Crazed Maniacs Sox Swap.

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!

Thoughtfulness Begets Thoughtfulness....

Life has held some fairly bleak moments for us recently. I'm usually reticent to share too many personal details on my blog.......... especially when it pertains to things going wrong in my life. Let's just shorten a long sob story into the condensed version and say that despite my ingrained stoic nature and stiff upper lip, I completely fell apart on Monday. I made sure to hold on to my woeful blubbering until I was out working and away from my mini-Infidels first. I wanted to be like my namesake, Melissa Manchester, (I'm Melissa but I definitely have more to work with than a Man Chester) and follow her advice of "don't cry out loud, just keep it inside and learn how to hide your feelings" because I wouldn't want the mini-Infidels thinking their Mom Robot has actual emotions and stuff outside of nagging them. GASP! As I woke up on Tuesday morning, my birthday, I set forth to trod through another long working day of drudgery while fighting that sinking "Spinning Wheels" feeling.......and then something amazing happened.

YOU!
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!

UPDATE:
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

The Smiling Infidel Is Looking For A Few Good Sox-Crazed Maniacs!

Okay, the first rule of SOX Club is that you DO NOT talk about SOX Club. The second rule of SOX Club is that there are NO rules.......

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!)

The Green Party Came To The Infidel House This Weekend!

Despite my previous reluctance, we embraced that Green Party and spent the whole weekend delighted by the frivolity of it all. Special thanks to Lauren and Nancy Face, the most dynamic mother-daughter blogging duo to ever come out of Arizona, for sending us this fantastical package that contained everything we needed to start our own Green Party chapter. (Frumpy Ralph Nader not included)
It's obvious that the Faces wanted to make sure us Infidels will have enough green on-hand to stay pinch-free come St. Patrick's Day. We really appreciate that. It's also obvious that they desire for us to freshen up our breath and rid ourselves of the shameful stench of B.O. via the scented soapiness of Irish Spring and minty fresh candies and gum. We really appreciate that, too. A more perfect green-themed party package could never be found......unless it's a package stuffed full of greenbacks!

Thanks, Ladies!

You look like you need a dose of green. Help me to help you. Clickety on this nice green banner and I get to ascend the ranks at humor-blogs.com and you get a little green action and satisfaction. You do know what they say about green, don't you?

A Dastardly Conspiracy Is Afoot!!!!!

Somebody in the United States Postal Service wanted me to feel sad and unloved on Valentine's Day. While I sat there crying into the crunchy taco salad that was Papi's Valentine's gift to me, this lovely little package chock-full of sweetness from my favorite Cowbell was still en route to La Casa De Infidel.

No Cool Story shipped this out from Cowbell Central on February 9. I finally received it last night, February 19. She paid an exorbitant $4.50 postage and the USPS couldn't be bothered to make sure I had the warmth and comfort of the fantastic Mr. Dibble ball or the assortment of candies in time for Valentine's Day. Triste. Muy triste.

Anyway, GRACIAS, NCS! Big Besos De Chocolate Para Ti! For your heroic efforts in bringing me happiness I'd like to share these two songs with you. They're current Infidel favorites and I think you'll likey them, too.

PINBACK- Good From Sea

BRAND NEW- Fork And Knife

The Smiling Infidel Takes A Number Two!

The Smiling Infidel turns TWO YEARS OLD today. Some would say that this blog does indeed show the mental maturity and behavior of a bratty 2 year old too!

So I launched The Smiling Infidel on New Year's Day 2006 with this riveting post about a lurvely pink and politically-correct T-shirt I made for a co-worker friend of mine. What happened next? Well, just like U2's famous song, 'New Year's Day', all was quiet on New Year's Day. Really, really quiet. :)

Many times I've thought about giving up blogging altogether but the strange ideas and voices in my head keep compelling me to come back so I can write out my weird thoughts and vanquish them from taking up valuable cerebral space. Those voices are also prophetic, you know. Look at the picture below from my first post. I made those awesome little buttons including the Hillary Clinton one. At the time it was a cheeky little joke to even ponder the thought of any more scandal-ridden Clinton's running for the Presidency. I'm afraid that by creating the very first Hillary campaign button I may have set horribly cosmic things into motion.

Two years ago I would have never considered the possibility of making online bloggy friends and then meeting them and becoming real life friends. But it happened. Two years ago I didn't really think that anybody would be interested in reading my random collection of oddities. But that happened too. So much has happened over the past two years and I'm glad to have shared teh internets with all of you fine people!

Treat yourself to a piece or two of this festively decorated cake masterpiece, you deserve it!

I Wonder If The Apache Tribe Made A Special Sugarhill Gang Totem Pole To Honor Them?

I didn't mean to pry. I really didn't. But it was recently revealed unto me that one of my dearest friends has led a deprived life stripped of the soaring joy one can only experience through the magic of The Fresh Prince Of Bel Air breaking it down Apache-style with his cousin Carlton. How can I possibly stand idly by while a friend is in need of an emergency pop culture injection? Millie Chicken, Elastic sends this long-distance dedication to you in the hopes that it will act as a little ray of sunshine piercing through the gray Washington skies. Jump on it, Kemosabe!

[1:17]

DISCLAIMER!

Gentle Readers,

Are you new to the jaw-dropping, eyebrow-raising, armpit-scratching, chin-plucking wonders of The Smiling Infidel? You are? What took you so stinkin long to get here??!? Now the beautiful Mexican Casserole feast I made for you is all cold and greasy, and the dancing burro I hired for the party is too tired to even do The Macarena. Oh well, I still have plenty of savory Spam Cupcakes left for everyone to partake of and find Spammy happiness therein-- The kind of happiness that only processed and canned meat by-product can bring you.

Smiling Infidel veterans know that I'm homeschooling a houseful of mini-Infidels on top of working a couple of part-time jobs--Jobs where I get my hands dirty and everything. [Dirty hands to match my occasionally dirty soul] Hey, with a husband finishing his college degree, someones got to keep this family in the luxurious lifestyle of 3 meals a day that we've all become accustomed to.

Consequently, I don't return comments in the expedient manner I'd like to. This vexes me greatly despite the pithy little 'Blogging Without Obligation' thing I slapped into the sidebar. Just know that I do eventually make the rounds because no blog comment or commenter gets left behind or forgotten!

May All Your Days Be Filled With The Happiness Of Chicken Dancing,
elasticwaistbandlady