Colder than a witch’s tit?


It was quite frigid outside today…colder than a witch’s tit, some might say.  Where do you suppose that phrase originated, anyway?  If any of you know, please enlighten me.  Please.

I would like to add that my mother used that phrase from time to time.  Hers was different.  Hers goes, ‘Colder than a witch’s tit while doing  push ups in the snow in a brass bra.’  Picture that for a moment.

I, personally, give that crazy witch credit for getting her ass out there.  I give her credit for busting out a workout despite the daunting temperatures.  Pun intended (busted out…get it? bust. Ha!)  Fitness is important.  You need arm strength to stir that giant wooden spoon in the cauldron everyday.  And she obviously needs titty support from something stronger than a regular old sports bra.  She must be busty.  I can’t help but picture a crusty green witch with scrawny little arms and giant brass covered boobs dipping her boobs in the snow piles over and over.  She wears a red, white, and blue sweatband on her forehead, under her pointy, stereotypical black witch hat.  With each upward push she exclaims, ‘Curses!!! Curses!!!’

This witch has dedication and I commend her.  All I want to do when it’s colder than her icy tit is tuck my feet under the dog.

 

Snowy blog!


I am so happy the snow has continued on my blog.  I enabled this feature years ago…and have since switched up the look and layout…and I thought that I had lost it.  But, the snow remains!!  I think it only happens in December.

WordPress people?  Anyone?  Geek Squad?  Answer my rhetorical questions…

Snow.

I love it!  What a wonderful surprise.  If you are reading this and it is any month other than December…well, there’s no snow.  Too fucking bad.

Good morning Pearl


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What a beautiful Hawaiian morning here at Pearl Harbor. I’ve been awake since just after 5 am here…which would be about 9 am at home in the Midwest.

Word on the street is that winter storm Nemo is headed their way….dropping some unwelcome slushy icy snow.  Such a shame that I will miss it.  Seriously, bummer.

Not quite as much of a bummer as breathing in someone’s rancid breath on a 6 and 1/2 hour airplane ride.  Or as much of a bummer as being told by a middle aged, overweight woman in orange that I had a tag in the armpit of my jacket.

Um…hilarious!

I bought this awesome blue leather jacket a few months ago on sale.  Because of the weather at home, I was saving it for spring or for a cute night out.  Or Hawaii! Perfect! 

The tag was dangling from the armpit.  I could’ve sworn that I never removed it and searched the thing for evidence of purchase…but when you’re looking at things at 4 am on 3 hours of sleep, I suppose you miss things. 

I made it through check in, security, flight #1, walking through the Chicago airport, buying yogurt and a smoothie, and boarding flight #2 before my orange clad savior poked me on the arm and pointed out my fashion don’t. 

I told her that it was hilariously embarrassing.  I forgot to tell my husband after he picked me up because I was too excited and starving for fresh air.. but now I share my  embarrassment with cyberspace.