Peace Be With You

So guess what I did on New Years Eve? Go on, guess!

Did you say "marry two of your best friends"? Then you're right!

I am pleased to announce that Cowboy Dan and Dutch were joined in holy matrimony by your's truly.

That's right, you heathens, I am now an official minister of the Universal Life Church & Monastery (both a church AND a monastery!). It was free to be indoctrinated but I paid the extra $30 for the parking pass and plastic badge.

This of course means that THIS:



Was married to THAT:



By THIS:




I'm also avialable for funerals, baptisms and "love unions". Fees include a case of a beer and a ride home. I'm just saying.

Sunday Smells

A couple of issues I'm pondering this gray Sunday morning:

1. What is the absolute time limit for when you have to get out of your pajamas on a Sunday? Does it change your opinion if it's a rainy, overcast Sunday? Does it change your opinion if you know I don't wear underwear with my pajamas?

2. If you end up working all day Saturday and Sunday, does that make working on Monday optional? If you are own boss and you give yourself Monday off, does that make you a slack-ass? Does being a slack-ass shock absolutely anyone that knows you?

3. If you POD is going on a 4 day ski trip, is it wrong to simulataneously look forward to it and dread it cause you know you're going to sleep with the lights and tv on? (Note to readers: found out my house is haunted over the holidays...I shit you not....really....HAUNTED....more later)

4. If your best friend, Fat Baby's Mamma, has a new baby and scares the shit out of you by having a difficult labor and birth, do you still have to send her a baby gift? Cause really, is it fair that just because she has managed to reproduce, she has the right to make your heart stop and begin to worry about what you say at funerals? (And yes, I know I'm overreacting but that's the way my brain works)

All in all, the most important part of this Sunday is to say "Welcome to world, Baby Girl!". And yes, I know your name is Saylor but I will be calling you Fat Betty. And just wait to you hear the stories I have to tell you about your mamma. Your Aunt Kitty and I are already planning on getting you drunk on your 18th birthday. Rock on, DaLisa! You are much loved ( but if you ever scare your Aunt Floyd like that again, she will beat your ass....I'm just saying).

Mistletoe, MistleHO

It appears that there have been some sort of holidays since I last blogged. Well, bah. I owe you some updating.

Shall we begin?

The POD and I survived Christmas. We drove to Tennessee where I was upgraded to a twin bed in bedroom shared with my mother, Captain Nutty, and the POD. THAT i s an upgrade, you ask? Well, yes, gentle reader, it is an upgrade because for the last 15 years, I have been on a fold-out cot in a bedroom with Captain Nutty and the Consort. And for the record, fatty don't do deal without a firm set of boxspring underneath her girth. I'm just saying.

The day after Christmas, we all journeyed to the mountains of North Carolina where my aunt lives. My aunt is the sister of Captain Nutty and is just barely a macadamia nut short of a nutty title herself. There we celebrated 25 wonderful years of marriage for Captain Nutty and the Consort.

Now here's where it gets to be a "Floyd Family Moment". Let's harken back a few months to when the Captain and her Consort were last in town. During that trip, they dragged me to see Harvey, the family jeweler. (Yes, we have a family jeweler and no, I have no idea why). I was forced to sit there (incredibly hung over, I might add) and listen to a conversation about designing a new ring for my mother. The Consort wanted one large diamond with 24 diamonds set around it (you know, for the 25 years of "marital bliss"). Of course, at this point, I'm trying not to upchuck the gallon of Jaigermeister I had partaken of at the race the night before. But even so, I was in awe of the irony of me being unable to provide hot water for their visit since I didn't pay the gas bill and them designing some "equal to the gross national product of Malaysia" ring while in the same breath telling me they have no money to support the POD right now.

Oh wait. It gets better.

So I sit through this farce without hacking up on the jeweler's little glass cases. Time goes by. On the night of the anniversary, the Consort makes a GRAND show of giving the ring to my mother. He presents her a big box, which holds smaller and smaller boxes until she gets down to a ring size box. (Sidenote: does this little bigger box ruse really fool anyone anymore? Have it really open up to nothing but air! Now THAT would be a surprise.)

Still not to the good part. Bear with me. Trying to get there.

So Captain opens up her ring box and acts.......surprised! And I quote, "Oh Consort, I can't believe you did this! What a surprise!"

That's right. She pretended she didn't know a thing about it . She acted like we all didn't know she was in on it. She acted like her "two steps above food stamps" daughter wasn't sitting right the hell there as she told Family Jeweler that the 24 diamonds should not be merely chips.

AND THEN! With all sincerity and incredulity, she goes to the Consort, "Did Harvey do this?"

At that point, I had a coronary and passed out in the spaghetti. I'm still removing pieces of parmessan from my nostrils.

Bah.

Well, many more exciting holiday memories to share with you. Stay tuned cause I got me some surprises regarding New Years! I'll give you a hint....it involves a wedding.....and NO, not mine.