The Smiling Infidel Gets Rocky Mountain High!

I finally have a few minutes to put together pictures from the grand Colorado Bloggy soiree this past weekend. Nobody likes to read a lot of blah blah, so I'll just let the pictures do the talking.

This is me and Aubrey giving up some Cheese! at the Cheesecake Factory. Yeah, I know, Aubrey's flawless and thin, and didn't spill a drop of food on her gorgeous white tunic shirt either. Could I have positioned myself beside a bigger contrast? Likely not. We met Amber That Crazy Bloggin Canuck and Aubrey for lunch right after our Denver arrival. We engaged in noshing and loads of light-minded laughter.

Annie deftly and swiftly maneuvered our mini-van chariot through treacherous mountain tunnels and roads.......make that roads that descended straight down into the canyon abyss without concrete barriers. Was I nervous? Naaaahhh. We stayed at the fabulously elegant Glenwood Suites courtesy of Carrie(Carronin) and her man, El Jefe. We also Came & Went from the Kum & Go next door and didn't make any crude jokes about it. At all.

Here's a segment of random titillation (I said Tit!) for the men out there who fantasize about having a bevy of beautiful bloggers sprawled out across their bed. Not only did we party with Jim Gaffigan, but we partied in our THONGS! Oh yes, we did. And then I picked up Jim and took him home with me. Luckily, Papi doesn't seem to mind sharing our happy home with a white man.

Carrot and I shared a king-sized bed together without anyone else clamoring for our nocturnal company. Why? Well, because we're the only two that ate chili cheese dogs and I suspect that nobody wanted to spend the night with a coney addict. That's okay. We had each other, and our very own Restricted Access Chili Dog Chick Room.

Suzanne and Tori surprised us all by secretly bringing our Millie Chicken to town! Sneaky Utah people..... Yay! Here we are surrounding Mike The Headless Chicken like his very own Harem Of Hens. Millie and Tori do a hot and spicy battle in an epic War Of The Asses. Tori? The Smart Ass? Who would have ever thought?

We all got in touch with our inner shadow people and had lunch at Annie's house complete with onion rings courtesy of the fabulous Rug's Bug. Annie and Carrie's dad, Big Rich, made my day by telling me he's a huge fan of The Smiling Infidel. Then, their mom said that 'I brought much joy to their lives.' I want that stitched onto a sampler. I got to share my 'Newspaper Carrier Greatest Hits' with Rug's Bug and her husband because I knew that we all understand completely the life and times of a paper slinger, both past and present. I loved getting to meet all the kids and spouses. Loved it! Annie's Secret Agent Man is funny and hawt. No wonder she doesn't reveal his identity on her blog. I also got to see Annie's computer room where all the magic happens.

Yeah, I went up, up, and away in one of those cable gondola thingies, all the while nervously calculating how much we all weighed against the 1,000 pound weight limit. We were a movin on up.......movin on up......to the top! While eating at the mountain top restaurant, Carrie and I solidified our titles as Queens Of Inappropriate Dinner Conversation. Yay us! Think Sex And The City:The Mormon Lite Version. If you ever want to know about the risque hidden meanings to popular songs, just ask Sodak Angel, Carrie, or myself. We know everything.

And then we embarked on a cave tour where all the formations had food names like 'Cave Bacon,' and 'Drinking Straws.' Sodak Angel and I saw things quite differently, though. Fun With Phonics? No, not us. Fun With Phallics? You got it! Carrot was the star of the tour, overshadowing our sweet Natalie Portman look-alike guide with her humour and picking up new people around us to add to our entourage. I have pictures but they haven't been modified to protect the innocent yet.

That vixenish Annie was the only one to manage getting a big screw the whole weekend.

Here's a closeup of my now notorious Pink FIFI bag. We had a big gift exchange too. Well, instead of parting gifts, I got farting gifts. Sodak Angel and Carrot Jello know me all too well!

Have you ever spent an entire weekend surrounded by people who lavish compliments and undeserved praise on you while simultaneously making you snort with laughter? I just did. My girls asked me about my trip and I've started referring to it as the 'ME TOO!' experience because I had so much in common with so many of these ladies, every conversation turned into me saying 'ME TOO!' The best part though, was coming home to my six kids who actually missed me....and showed how much they missed me by the mountainous clothes pile stacked and waiting for me in the laundry room. Papi missed me so much, he endured over an hour of hearing every minute detail of the weekend.

Thank you so much Annie and Carrie for providing us with a place to meet and frolic and wet our pants from laughing so hard. Okay, maybe only one of us wet our pants from laughing so hard. I always bring extra undies in case of unforeseen events. I love all of you people in ways that I never imagined I could before. Thanks for the memories. In Carrot's case......FRANKS for the memories!

Wow, That Smiling Infidel Chick Is Really Workin It!

Complete and total exhaustion always signifies a great vacation! I stepped off the plane from Colorado yesterday and plunged right back into my little world of late paycheck stress, bills, and work. Ahhh, how I loved the blissful weekend escape with all my bloggy sisters. Thanks Annie And Carrie!

Contrary to the sign, I'm not a man at work at all. No, I'm more like a working girl. Well, not an actual, you know, working girl. More like a Mistress Of Manual Labor. I'm on my way to work right now but I wanted to post something lest anyone thinks that Annie and Carrie kidnapped me and made me an honorary Colorado sister. How I wish! Read you all later.

This Weekend I Will Finally Prove That My Elvis-Like Sideburns Are Real And Not Sideburn Toupees!

Have you heard? I'm going to be getting high this weekend. Yeah, really high. Really, really high. Don't worry, other people will be there getting high too.......Rocky Mountain High, that is!
Yes, The Smiling Infidel is boldly going where she's never gone before. I hope the fine citizens of Colorado are prepped and ready for the Bloggy Women Invasion of 2007!

I've been practicing all my best John Denver moves in preparation for the trip. You should see the routine I choreographed to 'Sunshine On My Shoulders.' It would make you weep. WEEP, I tell you! I was a little disappointed to find out that Bob Denver a.k.a Gilligan doesn't actually live in Denver. Apparently, he's not living..... at all.I've fretted about, wondering what to wear for a seeming eternity. And then, it dawned on me, I already have the super official Mork Rainbow Suspenders from The Mork And Mindy Fan Club, and they did live in the state of Colorado, so it must be acceptable attire there, right? So, I'm going to dress like Mork all this weekend. (Hairy Chest And Feathered Wings Hair Not Included)

I'm very much looking forward to the Coors Brewery Tour too. What? Didn't somebody schedule us in for the Special LDS Women Factory Tour? Maybe they'd rather take their chances with a bunch of drunks than us rowdy chicks!

And finally, I plan on really taking the bull by the balls horns this weekend by trying out a little Colorado cuisine........
And chicken dancing with the famed Mike The Headless Chicken of Fruita, Colorado. He was even once an esteemed Presidential candidate.
And here's where I name names. I'll be getting high with a little help from these friends:

The fantastic Colorado sisters who organized this......Miss Hot Fruita Mom Annie and Carronin!

Amber That Crazy Bloggin Canuck

Carrot Jello

No Cool Story

Aubrey

Suzanne

Tori

Sodak Angel

And we'll all be missing Millie Chicken terribly, who's currently incapacitated with her broken chicken foot. :(

I won't be around 'Til Tuesday. Yeah, like the group. So, um, shush, keep it down now, Voice Carry! Later.

Walking Down The Store Aisle Is Reminiscent Of The Day I Walked Down The Aisle With My Papi

A simple trip to the grocery store always serves to remind me of the boundless love that Papi and I share and how it all came to pass. The aisles, practically brimming with symbolic reminders of our life together.

Papi went looking for some White Snuggles......and he surely did get what he was seeking! Obviously, I trounced the competition who advertises that a golden brown whole wheat equates to wholesomeness. Well, I guess Papi didn't want something healthy for him. Ha! Oh, wait a minute......

Papi and I shared nothing in common except the same employer. So, when he continued persistently pestering me, the resident workplace heathen, to go to church with him, I thought he was full of.......

(Well, not really. But they don't sell crap manure at the grocery store, now do they?)

And then, while only two months into our courtship, and many stomach lurching dates down at Pancho's Mexican Buffet, Papi proposed to me. Yeah, I know, that guy has some big......

Stop that! I can read your calculated little minds. You're putting together and computing short dating time along with a seemingly hasty marriage. Well, I most certainly was NOT ........

Nice And Easy just isn't my style. Rather, I'm more of a......

kind of gal!

Papi and I enjoy a glittery fairytale ending, and it's definitely not a classic boy gets girl yawner like Cinderella And Prince Charming. Neither does comparisons to The Princess And The Pea. Aside from the fact that I do re-enact the story everytime I serve split pea soup for dinner. Our story isn't even relatable to Beauty And The Beast, althoughPapi often calls me a beast. No, ours is a happy union of a salty white cracker coupled with a spicy Mexican tortilla. I'm so very glad that Papi likes..........

JUMBO BUNS!!!!

It's Sasquatch Day Down At The Salon!

After 33 years of waiting, I finally got to experience the thrills of my 'first time.'

I've listened to many a people talking excitedly about their blissfully fantastic first time, but I chose to abstain from such things and hold out because I didn't want an impugned reputation as a 'painted lady.' Well, on Friday I finally did the deed.....

.......and got a pedicure!

My mom treated us both to a nice hour at the spa because she didn't want me going to Colorado with ugly feet. Yeah, what people think of my feet are the least of my worries when I'm about to meet a veritable buttload of dazzlingly gorgeous and witty bloggy women this weekend.

So, our spa venture just wouldn't seem complete without a nice waxing. I've never waxed anything, unless you count waxing nostalgic or waxing poetic. Or the time I kissed the Turtle Wax boy from the car wash in my wild youth..... Anyway, the very petite Vietnamese lady had me plop my hulking frame down in one of the salon chairs that backs up to a sink so I could lay down and get slathered up in hot wax on my upper lip. The warmth of the honey-like amber wax made me feel all comfortable and cozy until......she let it RIIIIIIIP! Without warning, the lady yanked the gauze off the left side of my mustache. Reacting to the immense pain, I slid down the vinyl chair, all the way to the floor. Did I get any compassion or caring? No. The lady called out in her sing-songey language to all her salon co-horts so they could enjoy the show too. And then she smiled big, and patted the seat as she instructed, "You get back in chair now. Me have one more side to do....."

And now you know why Bertha The Bearded Lady down at the circus was that way- Obviously she had a deep-seated phobia of hair removal products. I'm so never getting waxed again. Do you think Melissa The Mustachioed sounds nice? What about Melissa And Her Malevolent Man Whiskers Of Mayhem?

Don't Say It.....Spray It!

Sometimes I really question the fortitude of our youth. Do they have what it takes to make it in today's world and thrive? We all know that the key to life long success lies in completing your tasks and projects at hand, no matter how difficult.

So, I looked onto these local neighborhood STOP signs with great concern. The one on the left bears graffiti, spelling out an ode to Mr. 2 Legit 2 Quit himself, M.C. Hammer. Yes, the sign reads 'STOP! Hammertime!' The second sign, around the corner from the first, contains the uplifting message brought to the masses by Journey back in the 80's.....'Don't STOP Believing!' Wise words, indeed.

But then the signage stops abruptly, right there, without any further instructions or details leaving me, the casual passerby, to wonder what became of these fine young graffiti artists, determined to maketh their mark upon this world. Surely, two paltry signs can't contain the extent of their vast creativity. I mean, there's so much more they left unfinished. What about:
1. Don't STOP Thinking About Tomorrow- Fleetwood Mac
2. Don't STOP The Dance- Bryan Ferry
3. STOP Me If You Think That You've Heard This One Before-The Smiths
4. STOP In The Name Of Love- The Supremes
5. STOP Dragging My Heart Around- Tom Petty
6. STOP! Dimentica!-By The Italian Singer, Tiziano Ferro
7. I'll STOP The World And Melt With You- Modern English
8. STOP That Train- Bob Marley
They could even get lazy and just slap an exclamation mark onto the sign making it 'STOP!' as a homage to the smash hit by Erasure.

One day, I hope my proud graffiti artists learn about the satisfaction that comes from a job well done and they'll re-commit themselves to finishing this great work.

As a funny side note, we here at La Casa De Infidel delight in singing Journey's 'Don't Stop Believing' while we're struggling with the call of nature and looking for a suitable toilet. We sing it "Don't Stop Believing.... HOLD ON TO POOP FEELING!" Sometimes my mini-Infidels will take us by surprise and retort with a comeback tailor-made by the fine folks from REO Speedwagon. "I CAN'T FIGHT THIS FEELING ANYMORE!"

FUDGE-O-RAMA!

I love me some fudge. You may even say I'm a fudge connoisseur-sampling and casting eyes of lust towards the tantalizing candy store displays with sweet heavenly fudge stacked into neat little tiers, just ripe for the picking. My vast fudge experience has brought me into contact with many flavors and varieties, so I can say without hesitation that the fudge I found below is my least favorite kind. I shudder to think of the advertising for her.......'Phyllis Fudge! Now With More Pieces Of Real Phyllis In Ever Fudgy Bite!'
So, does Phyllis Fudge call her bicycle a FUDGEsicle? When she does her taxes and claims her new nose hair trimmer as a business expense, does the IRS agent roll his eyes and disgustedly say,"'She's always trying to FUDGE on her taxes." Does she tell her kids that Judy Blume's book, 'SuperFUDGE' was written for her? When she eats nuts, does she exclaim loudly, "New and Improved Phyllis Fudge......Now With Nuts!!!!!"? I wonder if she follows the stereotype and bakes FUDGE to give out at Christmas while people whisper amongst themselves, "There goes that FUDGE woman giving out FUDGE again." Maybe she could start her own company. 'FUDGE'S FUDGE.'

With an awesome name like that, she needs to get out of the real estate game and record a hot track to transform her into a Pop Princess. Maybe something like Fergie's 'Fergalicious' except she could call it 'FUDGEalicious.' Mmmmmm, FUDGE. Can you see it now? FUDGE Live And In Concert With Cake. Suh-weet!

The Ties That Bind.......Are Made Out Of Toilet Paper!

It's a Smiling Infidel Theme Day! Yay! See if you can guess the cleverly hidden main idea that runs through each short paragraph.

My boss had the nerve to give me my paycheck in this pissy little envelope. Third best? Third best??!!!!? Who is he kidding? None of his other employees would have gotten their bruised and battered body out of their completely demolished truck to go finish their route. None of them have gone to work the day before delivering a baby. I'm a distinct cut above the rest of his stable warehouse of manual labor donkeys. So, I waved the envelope in his face while haughtily demanding to know, 'What's The Deal, Yo?' My boss just laughed, until I told him, 'If you don't make me number #1, I'm going to throw my number #2 at you.'
I watched with eyebrow-raised interest as Mini-Infidel Daughter The Second, ironically enough, nicknamed, Monkey, crawled stealthily across the living room carpet on her belly like a jungle predator waiting to pounce. I wondered aloud if she was preparing for a home turf war by practicing some form of 'Guerilla Warfare Technique.' Monkey simply looked at me and grunted. So then, I lept off the sofa and went running all crazy towards her with my fingers extended and wiggling, while frothily yelling, 'Oh yeah? I'm declaring Gorilla Finger (thanks Urban Dictionary!) Warfare on you!' Monkey started screaming and frantically trying to retreat before finally surrendering to me and my imitation Gorilla Fingers. Sweet Gorilla Finger Victory! Perhaps I've stumbled upon a useful weapon to use on the battlefield.
(If I ever chance to meet Naomi Watts or Jessica Lange, I'm going to tell them they smell like Gorilla Fingers!) And finally, amid a chorus of vocal discontent emanating from my girls' room, I peeked in to find them walking in circles around the perimeter of their bedroom. Apparently, they feared that my son, Buster, had taken up permanent residence in the toilet, and they all got struck with poop feeling at the same exact time. Buster instructed the girls through the bathroom door, that the best way to stave off crap cramps is to walk around in circles.....and so they did. Hear the song playing? That's Soul Coughing's song 'Circles.' It goes: "I don't need to walk around in circles, walk around in circles, walk around in circles....." Well, how very nice for him. Apparently, he doesn't have to share his crapper with a gaggle of bloated siblings.

Better Never Sing 'Hit Me With Your Best Shot' To Heather, Because She Will!

Every since my oldest mini-Infidel and I heard news reports about the former Mrs. McCartney, Heather Mills, savagely beating Sir Paul over the head with her prosthetic leg in a fit of rage, we've worked it into an endless amount of jokes. (I bet 64 year old Paul never anticipated this turn of events when he wrote his song 'When I'm 64)

Our favorite? Well, whenever the radio plays 'Legs' by the legendary bearded H-Town band, ZZ TOP, we start giggling about Heather Mills. I always thought that song trite and stupid. I mean, I've got legs, and I'd venture to say that the overwhelming majority of women do. Do I know how to use them? Certainly I do. To stroll to the counter at the Donut Shop. To chase my laughing mini-Infidels in an effort to recapture my bra that they're wearing as a hat. To conduct human hair growth experiments to see how long the leg hair gets in between shavings. For serious things too, like putting both legs in so I can do the Hokey-Pokey and turn myself around. There's just no limit to the uses for my lower limbs.

So, um, Heather Mills also has legs, prosthetic or otherwise, and boy, does she know how to use them! We silently dedicate 'Legs' to Heather each time we hear it, and we even have our own made-up choreography where we flail our arms up and down in a chopping motion. Maybe she was really influenced by John Mellencamp's song 'Get A Leg Up,' well, before she brought it crashing down on a Wing-less man.

(In case anyone thinks I'm grossly insensitive, I thought Heather did an amazingly fantastic job on Dancing With The Stars)

A Lite Version Of The Smiling Infidel!

Sometimes, when me and my Infidel posse go to the store, we find that the automatic doors won't open no matter how hard we jump up and down on the rubber mats lining the entryway. I always tell my mini-Infidels that it means I'm way too skinny for the automated system to register that I'm standing on it, and that signifies a need for a quadruple banana split...STAT! Yeah, I'm just like the big, bad wolf standing outside the door, stomping vigorously on the mat while bellowing, "Let Me In! Let Me In! Or I'll Huff And I'll Puff..." Well, see, all that physical exertion does make me huff and puff. A lot.

My tribe of mini-Infidels insist that it doesn't, in fact, mean that I'm too divinely petite to trigger the automatic doors. They think it means that the store is actually closed. Such heathen liars! Heathen liars that ain't getting none of my banana split, might I add.

Melody.......Grand Master Of The Tit-For-Tat Game!

My Melody got a cute new fishy bathing suit courtesy of the end-of-summer-clearance onslaught going on at all the local stores. As if. We wear flip-flops and shorts in Houston 9-10 months out of the year. Yep, we're just one long continuous season. One long continuous HOT season interspersed with a few hurricanes and tornadic activity, that is. Yeah, Richard Marx was definitely singing about H-Town in his song, 'Endless Summer Nights.' So, what goes better with a picture of an adorable girl than an adorable story?
As I sat on the sofa, talking on the phone with my mom and fending off nosy Melody with my free hand, she mentioned something about Melody's chubbiness. I put the phone to my shoulder, and teasingly told Melody that her Grandma said that she had a fat butt. Melody blinked her eyes, and asked, "What Grandma?" I told her it was my mom. Melody smiled and blurted out, "Oh, your mom? The one who pooped her pants?" I couldn't stop laughing, and at that point my mom sighed mightily as she hung up and asked if we were ever going to let the story of her dire misfortune go.

No, we probably never will.

I Wish I Had A Moose. I'd Name Him Dr. Seuss. And Turn Him Loose With My Goose To Cause Terror On A Caboose.

I'd like to welcome you to a very special edition of The Smiling Infidel! It's tailor-made to cater to the easy-reading needs of your inner pre-schooler. I've got rhymes! No big words! And pictures! Lots of pretty pictures! In color!

On Saturday, as my truck got severely hit and folded like a MAP, I felt my tender red neck SNAP and I still sort of feel like......

Says I, this is teh SUCK! Only 18 more payments until I own my beloved Infidel TRUCK! Those dreams vanished with the WTF? hit-and-run chick gone AMOK. (It does rhyme. Quit picking on me)
Wow, what LUCK, Progressive insurance paid off my old TRUCK and I still managed to make a decent BUCK! So, I immediately set forth to buy a new.....(Oddly enough, both these pictures detail the same color and style as my before and after Infidel trucks)
Did I take my new truck to go SHIRK and LURK with Captain KIRK while eating Jamaican JERK? No! I went immediately to WORK! (I have never in my life sung and danced while throwing papers. I do have a Cabbie Cap like the Newsies boys do, though.)
Sometimes I just want to POUT as I throw my paper ROUTE (II need my truck to work. I need to work to pay for my truck.*sigh*) I'm dorky like URKEL and hopelessly trapped in a.........
Like a Donut that needs DUNKIN and a Bronco that's BUCKIN, still I continue to....


Well, I do keep on truckin, except on that fateful day that was CRUMMY, when a girl who's downright SCUMMY made me into a real live .......
I'm going to break in my new truck just like a Smiling Infidel SHOULD- by only putting on high heels and my State Farting Champion T-shirt and rolling around on the HOOD. Be cool like me? Coked-up, man-beating, OJ-dating Tawny, only wishes she COULD!