Chibi was an a-hole...

He was just awful...a schnauzer.  Next door neighbor of ours owned him.  They'd take a trip to Japan every summer and hired me to watch their wretched dog.

An entire month of hell.

I couldn't pet Chibi (pronounced "Cheebee").  He'd bite me.  Had to toss his food into his bowl and hope most of it made it in because he'd be so excited to eat but would snarl at me if I came near.

Walks with Chibi were super fun.  Had to somehow get the leash on the little jerk before he could nip the most sensitive part of the tip of my finger.

That month was total hell...

And now looking back I realize I was a super dumb kid because my payment for that entire month of dog care?

A pack of Hello Kitty stickers and a Japanese Kimono.  Oh and these funky Japanese platform sandal thingys...

Jack shit really...I was a dummy.

See ya'...

Why, step on up!

One day while walking through a mall in Greeley, CO my mom treated me to an Orange Julius.  I had no idea really what kind of delight I was in for...but man did I quickly become a fan.

A big fan.  Obsessed.  But these babies cost some serious jack.  And it didn't help that most of the time I passed one?  5 other siblings were with me.

So I said, "Enough of this shit.  I'm going to figure out how to make them at home..."  I really did say that.  I wanted an Orange Julius on demand.  Frothy, whipped orange cream delight.

Screw it.  How hard could it be to make?

I went to work with my mom's blender...First ingredient had to be Orange juice, right?  So I started there...added some ice cream, ice, lots of sugar...think I added extra vanilla too.  After some experimentation...trial and error...I finally nailed it...And by "nailed it"?  I mean it tasted like the real deal.

Given my mastery of Orange Julius' recipe I even felt a little cocky.  Felt as if the creators at Orange Julius somehow misplaced their recipe I'd be their "go to" guy....I'd be a hero because I'd be all modest and crap and say, "Well, I'm not sure if this is EXACTLY what you made, but..." as I'd watch their CEO take a taste...then nod to the other execs as a non verbal "Guys, we've got it.  Thank god we found this gal."  Then he'd turn to me, "Say, Trina...this may even be BETTER!  Damn!!!"

Then I'd smile and demand some kind of royalty for saving their ass...

But being the practical and realistic lass I was I instead enjoyed tormenting my siblings...I'd whip up a big batch of Orange Julius and would casually stroll into the family room...Did I mention I required the soda straw?  I did.  Anyway, I'd walk in knowing I'd get stares.

Then my brother would inevitably have to say, "Trina is that an Orange Julius?  Is there any left?"  My standard reply?  "Nah, this is it.  You like Orange Julius?  Have I mentioned how good mine are?  I mean, dead on.  Anyway...I'm headed upstairs." as I turned to walk away...

And they'd stop me..."Bu-bu-but...Waiiit!"  and I'd pretend I was surprised they wanted to keep me within "Orange Julius reach" so to speak....Then my brother and sister would start rattling off favors they'd do so they too could enjoy the delightfully refreshing Orange Julius experience...

"I'll make your bed." "I'll pick up dog poop on your day."  "I won't tell mom you shaved 15 minutes off your practice time."  "You can pretend you need to go to the bathroom during kitchen duty tonight." "Won't tell dad you graffitied his weight bench with that Sharpie marker."

The offers came rolling in.  I was almost an auctioneer for that matter.  Made my brother and sister compete with bids until I heard something I liked.  Then would point to one and say, "Alright.  You win.  Deal!"

And we'd leave the losing bidder sitting stunned....

Good times...

See ya'!

Be sure to wash your hands.

I'm getting grossed out just looking at this...But can you believe some people don't know what a urinal cake is?  For anyone who doesn't, it's the pink disk...shaped in a little cake.  It does something.

I don't know exactly what.  Maybe makes things smell nice.  Ok, I'm grossed out again.

My mother didn't know what one was.  Maybe it's placement in the urinal in a port-o-let threw her off.  All I remember is her telling us one by one to "Remember to wash your hands.  It's so dirty in there."

Funny thing is none of us could recall a sink with soap.

So I asked her.  "Mom, where exactly did you see a place to wash your hands?"  She replied, "There's a little sink with pink soap.  No water but it's better than nothing."

Ok, gagging again.

I gotta go...

Speak a little louder, will you?

Our family's tape recorder was a big hit in our house.  Leave it to yours truly to find a way to use this 1980's technological miracle to torture fellow members of my household.

Maybe I'd lay in wait by the bathroom door as my brother dropped a deuce.  Record all the sounds. Then a day or two later ask him how "the girl he liked from school would react to this"grinning like Cheshire the Cat as I pushed the "Play" button.  Laugh as I watched his face turn into a mortified ashen shade of embarrassment and shame.

Sit at the top of the stairs snickering with my brother as we recorded my mom getting on my dad's case about something he forgot to do around the house.  Hearing her say, "And goddamn it, take a shower and put in your contacts on your days off will you?  The neighbors must think you look like a damn bum!" was like recording gold...

Ah yes...memories.  The best though was when I used it on my poor younger sister.  She was like a gazelle when it came to being gullible to my antics...Me?  The preying cheetah....

One day we were sitting in our room doing mostly nothing.  I had the recorder on my bed and stealthily pushed the "Record" button.  Then proceeded to have a casual chat.

"Hey," I asked her as she sat on her bed fussing with some Barbie clothes, "do you ever say bad words?"  She looked up at me kind of confused at my asking and replied, "No way!  Are you crazy?  My friends would tell their mom and you just KNOW our mom would get a call.  Not worth it."

Undeterred, I prodded further, "But would you LIKE to say a bad word?  I mean, between you and me..anything?"  She thought for a second and said, "Well sure, I mean, I get mad sometimes and want to say stuff."

"Yeah? Like, what word would you like to say?  I mean, you can tell me...I'm just curious.  I'll tell you my favorite curse word if you tell me yours..."

She paused for a moment.  Looked at me with an expression not unlike someone who just got away with stealing candy, leaned in a bit and said, "I'd probably say, 'Shit!'"

"No...really?  Say it again...but just a little louder this time."

She sat up straight, looked at me and said, "I said, SHIT!!!"

I looked at her as I pulled the recorder over to my lap and said, "Cool.  Thanks..."

"Thanks for what?" she asked...

"For this!  Mom will love it!" staring at her with a big grin as I pressed "Play"...

Really loved seeing her reaction...but that was really always the best part, right?

Outta here!

Oh, you shouldn't have. Really...

I happened to be innocently watching the evening news last night when I was visually and mentally accosted by an ad for Vermont Teddy Bears.  I tried to find a video clip but they were all pretty poor quality.  Just as well because I wouldn't subject my readers to this revolting display of love.

I can't believe people would in all seriousness give this shit as a gift!  I wonder how the man decides which bear his woman is worthy of receiving...Does he call up Customer Service and say, "Yeah, uh, I love my girl and stuff.  Speaking of 'stuff' you sell stuffed bears right? Cool because she's been mad at me since last summer when I didn't win a 6 foot dog for her at the state fair."

So behold.  A few offerings for you and your main squeeze from the Vermont Teddy Bear company (spits up in mouth just a bit)....

For the woman who has everything, including enough chocolate and jewelry (that kind of girl exists, right?), there's the "Hunka Love" Bear:

Isn't it sweet?  No.  It's not.  And she's on her BED with it!  EW!  Look how she's hanging all over it!  God!  STOP IT!

And what the shit is this?

Oh yeah, thanks.  If you decide to snuggle honey, just remember I'm the one without facial hair!  I mean, after I wax I'm the one without facial hair.  I mean, it may be the bear.  Just remember the bear is smaller.   ..Anyway, thanks for the dress alike bear.

And for those into sexy and cute?  Voila!

So sensual how she's posing with what I guess they call "Bad Ass" Bear.  I wonder if he comes with beer nuts.

Ok, this is about all I can stomach....Seriously bad.

See ya...

I got nothin' but time lady...

Holy crap.  I just have to share what I just witnessed at my local Post Office.

I walk in and there's an older guy waiting and a woman getting waited on by the one employee working the counter.

I wound up waiting 20 minutes!  Why?  Because that dumb broad couldn't decide which stamps to buy...When I first walked in she was just standing there staring down.  Then asks the guy working behind the counter, "Doesn't the LOVE stamp look a little bright to you?"

Postal employee:  "Well, yeah, uh, I guess it's a little red."

Dumb broad:  "I'm not sure.  Maybe I'll take one of the LOVE and one of this other (whichever alternate design she was looking at)."

Postal employee:  "We're always getting new stamp designs in."

Dumb broad:  "Oh reeeeeally?  Like when?  A month?  If I buy this LOVE stamp today are you telling me a week or two from now you'll get something else in that I'll like better?  Because maybe I should wait."

Postal Employee:  "Well ma'am I really don't have a timeline of when..."

Dumb broad (interrupts):  "...yeah, but you just said a month.  So I can wait if you think a better design is coming out.  Do you know what design it may be?  I mean, just an idea...I'm sure they let you know, right?"

Postal Employee: "No.  Actually we don't know until we get the stamps in what the design is."

(pause.....pause.....pause....as she stares down....)

Dumb broad:  "Ok, I'll take one of each.  One LOVE and one of this...(points to other stamp design)"

The postal employee proceeds to take out a sheet of stamps and she says, "Oh GOD no!  JUST one stamp!"

By the point the old guy and I waiting in line are ready to lose it because now the employee has to check to see if he can "break up" a sheet for each of the stamp designs she wants to buy...

After all this fiasco she spent $1.10

Did I mention all this over two fucking stamps?  Two.  Deux.  Dos....

This experience alone really reinforces my distaste for Post Offices.  They're weird as shit.

Goddamn it, now I'm all agitated just recalling the ordeal!  Crap!

Outta here!!!!!!

How high again?

Dinner at my house growing up usually entailed getting the entire family to sit down together.  It was also, at times, when my parents decided to argue about events from their day.

One night my mom and dad got into a heated discussion.  And my dad, all red faced and frustrated finally blurts out to my mom sitting on the opposite end of the dinner table "You know what REALLY BURNS MY ASS?!"

Being the astute student of sarcasm, I decided to answer for my mom.  I held my hand next to the table about where my dad's ass height would be and replied pseudo innocently, "Fire this high dad?"

Silence.  Kids stopped chewing.  7 pairs of eyes...incredulously looking at me.  My dad, wild eyed with disbelief.  Sitting with his mouth half open.  No sound coming out.

I think he was impressed with my answer.  Maybe not.  Yeah, "No."

Then...from my mom, "Trina you're excused now."

I didn't put up much of a fight.  We were having cube steak.  I think it's the cut that made from the part of the cow that gets the absolute most exercise...tough and dry.

Nothing to add here...

See ya!