Mama's Got A Brand New Bag......Well, Almost

Look, I've got my pride and all but I simply can't resist the allure of awesome stuff forlornly sitting curbside on trash day; awesome stuff just waiting to be whisked away to the garbage dump of no return.
I once found a $600.00 dollar sofa from Pier One in perfect shape and an equally nice entertainment center callously flung out next to trash cans brimming with the stacks of money these folks presumably use to wipe their rich heinys with.
Where did I learn this trashy behavior from? My mother.
The situation is exactly like that Public Service Announcement where the father finds his son's pot stash and incredulously asks him where he learned to do such filthy things and the kid angrily retorts "From you Dad, alright? I got it from watching YOU!!!"
Yeah, so my mom may be out of her prime refuse-hunting days but she's still a cunning addition to any Garbage Day Safari going on in H-Town.
So, about a year ago she spied with her beady eye a trashy treasure trove just ripe for the picking.
Lying haphazardly next to the street was a large piece of designer luggage in mint condition.
What could my mom do? This saucy little black bag was beckoning her forth so she stopped her truck and hopped out to have a look.
As she lifted up the suitcase she noted that it felt unnaturally heavy.
Excitedly she started fumbling with the zipper thinking that it was the luggage version of Russian Nesting Dolls.
What she found instead more closely resembled a nightmarish mystery meat Turducken Surprise.
Stuffed inside the bag was a gargantuan gray cat. It was dead. It was stiff with rigormortis. It was also staring blankly at the human who dared intrude on his perpetual cat nap while violating his final resting place.
My mom screamed and let the actual, literal, proverbial "cat out of the bag."
Hello Kitty!
This experience along with a touch of imaginary Cat Scratch Fever has pretty much cured my mom of her innate dumpster diving tendencies and her desire to travel to the Catskills.......or Kathmandu.........or the Kit Kat factory.
As a family we always try to make the best of a furry situation but alas, the Dr. Seuss company refuses to publish our cleverly titled The Cat In The Bag book--a sequel to The Cat In The Hat. Anybody know where I can purchase a little red and white striped hat for a dead cat?
Perhaps there's some money to be made in the unexplored area of kitty body bags.
Maybe the Cat In A Bag concept will interest certain local restaurants. I should trademark it immediately!
So, What's New Pussycat? It's the end of the post. Nobody reads to the end. Can I make an inappropriate joke now about the funniness of my mom out on a street corner picking up pu......No? Okay.
Just Throw It In The Bag!

I'm In Loooooove............Sweet Love!

My Papi and I have both have distinctive accents. Mine is of an unremarkable milquetoast, plain Jane, white cracker, middle of the road, Mid-Westerner. My Papi, however, possesses the super suave sexy Mexi accent that's the stuff of legendary cinematic Latino lovers. Most of the time we do speak the same language, although it's not always the language of love. On occasion, though, our vastly different accents do interfere with the smooth process of communication.

Just the other day while standing in the kitchen I began teasing Papi because moments prior I bum rushed in, almost toppling him over, in a desperate effort to score the very last Kit Kat candy bar out of the candy bucket. Yeah, most people have a candy dish. We have a candy bucket. What of it? Papi narrowed his gorgeous coppery eyes at me and bitterly said, "Girlie, you will be so sorry when the RAPTOR comes and takes me away, and you'll be left behind." I began laughing uncontrollably. I mean, who's to say I didn't use Papi as bait so that I could escape the hungry clutches of the RAPTOR? I won't really feel sorry when the RAPTOR comes and leaves me behind. Nope, not at all.

Which leads me to wonder about super sensual soul singer, Anita Baker. She must have experienced a much different RAPTOR than the ferocious, sharp clawed prehistoric beast that Jurassic Park introduced us to in the 90's, because she even wrote a touching sentimental song professing her unflagging amore for all things RAPTOR. Yes, Anita has found herself 'caught up in the RAPTOR of love,' and she says that nothing else can compare. The RAPTOR of Love reportedly beat out The Gangster of Love and the space cowboy to win the affections of Miss Baker. I wish them much happiness together. I'll send an economy sized package of Band Aids for their wedding present, because sometimes, love hurts.

*Raptor artwork credited to the creative genius, No Cool Story, of Mas Cowbell fame. Thanks!*