November 4, 2009
Happy HalloWTH? (PART 2)
Oh! Best of all possible beloveds, ALAS! The random number generator has been rolled and it only loves one of you. That hateful machine shuns all but the delicious STACEY, of comment 4, who said:
I still want to know how to do the effortless chignon! More questions! Posted by Stacey at October 29, 2009 7:06 PM
If it makes you feel better, I would be happy to meet up with 92 of you who a) did not win and b) are not the 2 spambots selling Canadian Pharmaceuticals. We would gather for the purpose of forming an angry mob with torches and pitchforks. OR! If we all agreed to wear buttless chaps and carry rifles and a hangin’ rope, we could form a posse!
Chaps or torches, either way, our purpose is the same...to rise up and hurt the RNG until its stuffing comes out and it is heartily sorry. If we do so, I am sure next time the RNG will be more like Solomon and have Hollis cut the book into 93 chunks as if it were a hotly contested baby. (I say 93 because once again I am leaving out the spambots.) Then Hollis could send each of you about three pages.
If you are STACEY, please shoot your snail addy to Joshilyn at Joshilyn Jackson dot com. I will pass that to Hollis and LO! YOUR LOVELY SIGNED COPY OF Trailer Trashed SHALL COME TO YOU!
When last we spoke, I was in the Way Back Machine, pretending it was a SLIGHTLY Back Machine, and also pretending it is relevant to tell all your Halloween stories in November. As I recall, you were standing just to my left, politely pretending that you thought it was relevant too.
October 31 was the coldest rainiest dog-butt-ugliest hellacious night in the history of Georgia, but I had Harry Potter and a ballerina with intense candy needs, so I was resigned to tramping around in it. In the spirit of eating something not made entirely of sugar as a sort of buffering stomach pad, the kids and I met my friend Julie and a couple of her loin-spawns at Cangelosi’s for pizza-n-salad dinner.
Cangelosi’s is right next to The Wine Shoppe, and as we pulled in, I said, “Guys, this is my favorite liquor store, and I don’t see Julie here yet, so I am going to pop in and buy some stuff.” The Wine Shoppe is my favorite because it is locally owned by a guy and I THINK his dad and his dad’s friend, and all three of them are ALWAYS in there jawing the kind of jaw that makes me feel I have entered the secret and usually male-only world of the old fashioned Barber Shop. (Or SHOPPE, in this case.)
Maisy was BBBBZZZZTTTT* with excitement. So BBBBZZZZZTTTT that I looked at her, jittering and vibrating the air around her with enough vim to register on the Richter scale, and then I looked at the shelves and shelves of expensive liquid inside shatterable glass and said to her, “WAIT BY THE REGISTER with your brother, this will take two minutes.”
I trotted back to red wine and grabbed a bottle of a delicious old friend and a new-to-me Cab Shiraz blend. When I came up, my over-excited and over-friendly daughter was over-sharing with the Wine Shoppe Triptet of yacky gentlemen. Maisy was saying “---Mummy Fairy was too expensive, even though it came with spangle wings, so I am being a ballerina, except this is NOT a costume, not REALLY, it is my REAL recital tutu from last year which I usually only wear once, to my ballet recital, but this year mom said we should do Halloween cheaper so I am wearing my REAL DANCE RECITAL outfit, as a COSTUME, when it is really for SERIOUS BALLET. Can you BELIEVE IT?”
All three of the gentlemen were trying to look very grave and nod in a serious manner that indicated they understood that BALLET was seriously serious, and all three were shaking so hard with suppressed chuckles I am surprised one or another of ‘em did not shoot a kidney out a nostril. I set my wine down on the counter and said to my daughter, “That ballet recital tutu cost almost a hundred dollars, so yeah, Maisy Jane, you are wearing it again, and in fact, you might be getting married in it.”
She looked so horrified and affronted at the very idea that all three fellas LOST it.
I dropped my wine off at the car and we walked down to Cangelosi’s. Julie was already waiting in the doorway. My over-excited, overshare-y daughter spoke AGAIN. LOUDLY. In her high piping clear little voice, announcing to my friend Julie and what must have been seven tables of teetotaling and moderately aghast Baptists: “We are not late! We had to go next door and buy a LOT OF WINE. That is my mom’s VERY FAVORITE LIQUOR STORE.”
Yesssssss. Slinking past the Baptists to our table, I decided her LAST announcement justified almost ANY number of pilfered mini-Butterfingers.
*That is completely a word. You knew exactly what it meant.
Posted by joshilyn at November 4, 2009 7:18 AM
HA! Oh Joss. As long as we can actually wear jeans under our assless chaps, I'm in ;)
Assless chaps are totally the way to go when forming an uprising. I mean, what is scarier than a mass of people in assless chaps? I think ONE person in assless chaps would freak me out, let alone a giant group of people.
At least you don't have teetotaler parents for your kids to tell about your liquor habits. Luckily, I was an older child when my parents started drinking, so I had the sense not to tell my very Southern Baptist grandmother about it. We still hide the cabinet of wine glasses when she comes to visit. She was SHOCKED to find beer in my brother's fridge when we went over to his house. She whispered heatedly to my mother, "Did you see the BEER in their fridge??? And the wine in the pantry???" My mother didn't know what to say. I think she just said yes and changed the subject. My brother also makes truffles, and usually adds various liqueurs to the ganache (did I mention how much I love my brother?) - he brought some to the Christmas family get together and pretended there was no alcohol in them. So better a pizza place full of Baptists hearing about your liquor shop preferences than your teetotaler very Southern Baptist grandparents.
Having a 10 year girl and a 5 year old girl (and a 2 y/o boy) I TOTALLY understood BBBBBZZZZTTTTT. It's a regular part of conversation around our house!
BBBBZZZZZTTTTT so perfectly describes the energy zzzssing off that picture of Maisie with the Disney World princess, one of my favorite photos in all the world.
Oh yeah. I don't think my kids every tasted a Butterfinger till they went away to college.
Love it! Having grown up Southern Baptist, I always feel mildly anxious taking my children into the liquor store to pick up a bottle of wine or margaritas. Sadly, the Tennessee legislature will not let us buy wine in the grocery store like other normal people. Haley, I feel your pain. My own mother tries very hard not to look askance at the beer in my fridge. My husband comes from a Midwestern family of German descent where beer drinking is a way of life and they don't have a single alcoholic in the bunch, which is sadly more than I can say for my Southern Baptist family.
Oh, Maisy stories are the best! I needed a laugh-out-loud moment this morning.
In my family, we always say, "little ears, big mouths." The little darlings pay attention to everything and spit it out to anyone who will listen.
The thought of buttless chaps makes my cheeks cold.
Seems your VERY FAVORITE LIQUOR STORE could use a drive-through window. Gotta love that Maisy Jane!
I totally sympathize with wanting to crawl under tables when kids talk. I'm working hard to break a six year old from telling random strangers, "This isn't my Mom. This is my Daddy's friend. She lives with us now." I either want her to shut up or add in that her Mommy dumped her Daddy years before I showed up so people quit looking at me like some kind of homewrecker.
"you might be getting married in it.”
My wedding dress did look like a giant tutu. So the ballet recital tutu could work just as long as she doesn't grow.
Congrats! If figure out how to do the effortless chignon, tell us the secret.
I can just hear her shrill little warble making that awesome proclamation. Just how does pizza topped with MORTIFIED taste, anyway?
I can totally relate to BBBBZZZZZTTTTT and over sharing children. My 7-year-old got into an age discussion with the baristas at Panera and announced my age to the world.
Wow she really keeps you on your toes. Good thing she doesn't (i hope ) read your novels. A kidney through the nostril??? Where do you come up with these things???
Ahh Joss. Your family really for reals needs to be on a sitcom. Or you need to write a sitcom about your family. I would so watch it. Laffaminute for sure!
Of course that was a real word. In fact, when I got to the footnote, I had to go back to look for what might not have been a word and couldn't find anything. So then I looked for the * and found a new onomatopoeia.
And I'm wondering, in a cultural ignorance kind of way, does pizza in Georgia require the use of fork & knife? I ask, because when we moved to Louisiana and ate pizza in public the way we were taught in California (fingers, hands, lots of napkins) we found we were being stared at by people who were much more, um, dainty about pizza. I couldn't tell if that was southern gentility or just a weird pizza parlor.
Lulu: I grew up in Atlanta and we never ate pizza with a knife and fork, nor did anyone I knew.
As long as the 3 guys got it - I was momentarily afraid Maisy might make them think that you DEPRIVED her of a proper Halloween costume in order to fund your liquor needs!
For the record, BBBBZZZZTTTT is so totally a word that I didn't even notice the * behind it and had to go hunting for the * when I ran into your footnote.
Hilarious, as always! Keep 'em comin'!!!