The Cajun Night Before Christmas

 

When we were little, my dad started a tradition with us that was a little bit different than the norm.  Most children are very familiar with the story The Night Before Christmas, but in our house, it had a little coonass twist. 

We’d all sit around him and listen to him recite his version of the story.  Now that Claire is old enough to understand the events of Christmas, I just knew that we had to dust off the old tale and start the tradition again.

 

'Twas the night before Christmas...

An' all t'ru de house

Dey don't a t'ing pass

Not even a mouse.

 

De chirren been nezzle

Good snug on de flo'

An' Mama Pass de pepper

T'ru de crack on de do'.

 

Den Mama in de fireplace

Done roas' up de ham

Stir up de gumbo

An' make bake de yam.

 

Den out on de by-you

Dey got such a clatter

Make soun' like old Boudreau

Done fall of hiss ladder.

 

I run like a rabbit

To go to de go'

Trip over de dorg

An' fall on de flo'!

 

As I look out de do'

In de light o' de moon

I t'ink "Manh, you crazy

Or got ol' too soon!"

 

Cuz dere on de by-you

W'en I stretch ma' neck stiff

Dere's eight alligator

A pullin' de skiff.

 

An' a little fat drover

Wit' a long pole-ing stick

I know r'at away

Got to be ole St. Nick.

 

Mo' fas'er an' fas'er

De 'gator dey came

He whistle an' holler

An' call dem by name:

 

"Ha, Gaston!

Ha, Tiboy!

Ha, Pierre an' Alcee!

Gee, Ninette!

Gee, Suzette!

Celeste an' Renee!"

 

"To de top o' de porch

To de top o' de wall

Make crawl, alligator,

An' be sho' you don' fall."

 

Like Tante Flo's cat

T'ru de treetop he fly

W'en de big old houn' dorg

Come a run hisse'f by.

 

Like dat up de porch

Dem ole 'gator clim!

Wit' de skiff full o' toy

An' St. Nicklus behin'.

 

Den on top de porch roof

It soun' like de hail

W'en all dem big gator

Done sot down dey tail.

 

Den down de chimney

I yell wit' a bam

An' St. Nicklus fall

An' sit on de yam.

 

"Sacre!" he axclaim

"Ma pant got a hole

I done sot ma'se'f

on dem red hot coal."

 

He got on his foots

An' jump like a cat

Out to de flo'

Where he lan' wit' a SPLAT!

 

He was dress in musk-rat

from his head to his foot

An' his clothes is all dirty

Wit' ashes an' soot.

 

A sack full o' playt'ing

He t'row on his back

He looked like a burglar

An' dass fo' a fack.

 

His eyes hey dey shine

His dimple, how merry!

Maybe he been drink

de wine from blackberry.

His cheek was like rose

Hise nose like a cherry

On secon' t'ought maybe

He lap up de sherry.

 

Wit' snow-white chin whisker

An' quiverin' belly

He shook w'en he laugh

Like de stromberry jelly!

 

But a wink in his eye

An' a shook o' his head

Make my confi-dence dat

I don' got to be scared.

 

He don' do no talkin'

Gone straight to his work

Put playt'ing in sock

An' den turn wit' a jerk.

 

He put bot' his han'

Dere on top o' his head

Cas' an eye on de chimney

An' den he done said:

"Wit' all o' dat fire

An' dem burnin' hot flame

Me I ain' goin' back

By de way dat I came."

 

So he run out de do'

An' he clim' to de roof

He ain' no fool, him

For to make one more goof.

 

He jump in his skiff

An' crack his big whip

De' gator move down

An' don' make one slip.

 

An' I hear him shout loud

As a splashin' he go,

 

"Merry Christmas to all

'Til I saw you some mo'!"

The Magic of Christmas

 

through the eyes of a child!

  

     

Derailed! (A Love Story)

With all the chaos that is the holiday, we are often so on-the-go that we forget to maximize our quality time spent with family. It seems that everyone puts so much effort into getting back to our central location, Nonnie and Tini's (yes, I do now refer to my parents as Nonnie and Tini) and making Christmas perfect, that we don't really all sit down together until Christmas morning. Planning in advance, the Train decided we wanted to dedicate one pre-Christmas night to spend with each other, doing what we do best, getting stinkin' drunk! Tini is normally the leader of the pack, but he and Nonnie needed some alone time with their new best bud, Claire, so they let us roam the crazy streets of downtown Plano, sans parental supervision. Of course, Danette and Chris were also in tow!

In much anticipation of this night, I even posted on my Facebook:

"A Stanga Train outing. With this many cable cars, one is bound to derail. I just hope it's not the caboose!"

First stop: Kelly's Eastside!

Since the old brick roads of Plano are now on the up and up, you can go bar hopping within one little quaint block. The boutiques are donned in garland and the trees are strung with lights, it's the perfect holiday night out! After a few rounds at Kelly's, we decided to chug along down the street to the Filmore. We simultaneously ordered another round and tabbed out, so we weren't done there quite yet. Chris was conflicted with staying for our final round at the first stop or handling a very important business call, and much unlike the Stanga's, he chose work and promised to meet us at our next destination. With an extra beer on the table, we had a little bit more drinkin' to do before we left. Larry and Molly decided to take a photo op outside with the giant horse statue while we finished up.

Apparently, I was off in my own little world while Danette was trying to get my attention to leave but that was completely unsuccessful. Instead, she got my sister-in-law, Maegan's, attention which in turn got mine, for sure! I hear this high-pitched squeal and suddenly turn around to find Maegan staring at me with a shit-eating grin and trying to rush me out the door. At this point, I am completely confused and Maegan keeps telling me "We've got to go! We've got to go!"

What is going on here? We gather up the boys and walk towards the door. Danette is rushing me, Maegan is rushing me, what the heck, people? Danette says she may be asking for my camera in a few minutes and it finally all clicks.

WHY DO I NOT KNOW ABOUT THIS ALREADY???

The boys are still left in the dark, just stumbling behind. As we're approaching the Filmore, Molly suggested we walk a bit further and take a stroll through Haggard Park. This park is a historical part of downtown and has such a quaint small-town feel to it, and is also the scene for all the prom pictures of many generations of Plano East students. It was all Molly's idea to head to the park, which is decorated beautifully for the holidays, including a gorgeous garland-strung gazebo.

Larry was questioning her sanity at this point, because it was freaking cold and why in the world would we want to go to a park when we could drink more? He finally agreed and we continued strolling through the streets. He didn't even need an excuse to get her to the park.

Hook.Line.Sinker!

We pass the Filmore, to which Mark's drunkass states "Hey guys! The bar is back here!" Maegan quickly grabs his hand and whispers for him to shut up and just keep walking. That'a girl!

Both of the brothers are looking at me confused, and I finally silently mouth what is about to happen. They immediately smile and start chuckling as we enter the park. Molly is giving the standard girl-brings-boy-to-hometown-tour of the park and says that everyone takes prom pictures here, especially in the gazebo. Weddings, even! Larry, a guy that is far too keen on a good picture op, wants to snap some shots. At the steps of the gazebo, he asks Molly to walk up with him and she notices there are roses everywhere.

"OMG! It looks like funeral roses. Someone died here."

{Larry was probably second-guessing his decision right then...} He stops her and laughs and urges her to walk up with him.

"OMG! Maybe someone got married here earlier."

{That law degree did not earn her any common sense.}

So they walk up for their picture and she is all basking in how sweet it was for someone to have a Christmas wedding in the gazebo. You know, on a Thursday...

Before she knew it, he was down on one knee asking her to marry him. At this point, Chris jumps out of the bushes with his video rolling. Nice work call, Chris.

Have you ever heard the squeals from a dying pig? I hadn't until last night. We're still not sure if Molly has even said yes, but she her "Are you serious?" and "Are you kidding?" inquiries were about as frequent as a two year old asking 'why?'

{I realize this video is outside my post width, but damnit, I'm still trying to fix all my kinks.}

It was the perfect proposal that completely surprised all of us. I'm still pissed I wasn't let in on the secret until five minutes before hand. One of my favorite parts was how Molly said it was so perfect and that she really loved that all of her siblings were there with her.

...Speaking of siblings. Can we please dedicate one short moment to my eloquent brothers. Now, I realize my language is not all that refined at times, however...

NOTHING says precious little family-centered Christmas proposal like the shouts from the two remedial brothers looking on. An "Oh fuck yeah!" and a screaming "Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye" like someone just busted open the pinata really bring it full-circle for the Stanga Train.

Oh, and we can't forget about Mark's kind gesture to his sister. After Scott went in for his brotherly-hug, Mark approached Molly and put his ear to her belly. No Mark, she's not pregnant. Larry wasn't trapped, he volunteered for his duty!

After we all said our congrats, {and I shed a few tears} we walked our way back up to the social scene where we ordered the finest bottle of champagne they had.

Wycliff.

In wine glasses.

Talk about a headache!

{I swear, Molly does know how to smile normally. She was just completely incapable of doing so last night.}

Hello, red eyes! Hey...I was just so happy!

We ended the night just in time to wake up and head back to Nonnie and Tini's house for a big brunch. It was originally planned as our traditional Christmas brunch so Christmas morning wouldn't be as hectic, however it turned into a celebratory engagement brunch. Pretty good timing, there, 'ole Lar!

And don't you think we didn't take the opportunity to take their first unofficial engagement picture.

So, I guess at the end of the night, I was right. My post on Facebook was a bit foreshadowing and I didn't even know it. One of us derailed. Shit, she damn near jumped off the track and is giving up her Stanga Train namesake.

I've cried a lot in the last 24 hours. I'm just so damn happy for them! ...and the ideas are whirling in this Maid of Honor's head.

EEEEKKK!!!

I'm a Maid of Honor!

And, I couldn't be any more honored than to stand up with my best friend and sister as she starts this journey with a wonderful man.

Congratulations, Molly & Larry.

Catching Up.

 

A quick rundown of the latest happenings along the StangaTrain Railway.  Disclaimer: If we’re Facebook friends, some of this is old news.  In all actuality, a lot of it isn’t all that recent, since this will only be my 14th post of 2010 and it’s already December…  Oh, you might want to go potty before committing the next 15 years of your life to reading this post.

ME

In May, my company moved locations.  Transitioning from Highland Park Village to downtown brought on more traffic issues and higher blood pressure, but at least I’m now working with real humans  …as opposed to the plastic humans hanging around in HPV.   And, who can complain about the view from 46. 

In the last 6 months, I’ve also invested a lot of time in home improvements.  After two brand new A/C units, one erroneous installation, a massive leak and and then closet rebuild, I decided I’d continue my spending, starting with redoing the master bathroom.  Prior to the revamp, it was a nice peaceful beach theme, with beautiful sandy textured wallpaper that featured nice touches of glitter and seashell tiles in the shower.  Can we say fugly?  But I am so in love with how it all looks now.

I’ve also had the rest of the house painted, redone the guest rooms, new living room furniture, new carpet installed, yada yada yada.  It’s a nice feeling to have completed most of what I have been wanting to do around that place for quite some time!  And, the best part, just in time for Christmas decor, which y’all know has been up since before Thanksgiving.

Over the summer, I posted about the newest addition to the family, little Tipitina. Well, things have changed and she has a new mommy.  She was having such a hard time potty training, made the most unbelievable screaming noises and had plenty of other flaws, which is okay if I had time to train her.  Due to her little tinkle and chewing habits, I had to crate her during the day.  With the move downtown, my commute has far exceeded torturous and poor little gal was confined for the majority of the day, and while I was sleeping for that matter.  It took months of intense debate and I finally took the plunge and found her a new home with a nice older lady who rescues small dogs.  I certainly feel this was the best move for her, and definitely for me.  Jacques-Imo has adapted well, as long as he still gets to sit as close to me as possible (which often means right on top of me.)

The family grouped up with the Martini Tour a few times this year for San Fermin:  Nueva Orleans and Thanksgiving on Lake Ponchartrain again.  Make this the 2nd year I haven’t posted about SF:NO and I’ve been meaning to.  It’s Running of the Bulls, NOLA style.  That translates to Running of the Bull Dykes. 

Me.

275 roller derby lesbians with bats and horns.

Outcome.

We went back to Lake Ponchartrain for Thanksgiving. Everything was the same, and almost as perfect as last year, except we were missing a coupl’a crews which stunk.  On the upside, however, we had a Saints victory over the Cowboys.  Happy Saintsgiving! 

In my previous post, I said that December is usually a slow month for me at work.  Turns out, for the economy being this bad, the company has had an excellent year overall and even December has kept me busy.  Finally starting to mentally check out.  Clocking in a few hours this week and I’m calling it quits until after the holiday! 

What, you don’t have a cocktail at your office?

On to 2011 … 

MOM & DAD

Not much new with them. They’ve started to really get the itch to move back to Southern Louisiana, which I can’t even talk about right now.  Who knows when (or if) it will actually happen, but it’s definitely on their radar and I’ll lose it when/if they do.  Molly is begging me to move as well, but the market in Nola for  just isn’t thriving like it is in Dallas {thriving being a very relative term.}  Mom still tends to her crazy flock of pets and Dad continues to make fun of her.  They’re precious, I tell you!

MOLLY

  In May, she earned her Juris Doctor degree from Loyola New Orleans and we are all so very proud of her. 

We celebrated her achievement and her birthday at August, an amazing John Besh restaurant. 

We also had a champagne lunch at Galatoire’s and then on to the Sazerac Bar.  What a debauchery of a weekend!  If my eyes were open in more of the pictures, I would post some, but I guess that’s what cocktails do to me.  Awesome!

Couldn’t have been any more perfect, except that stupid hat she had to wear.  Really, it wasn’t flattering. On anyone!  Regardless, we are so proud of her. 

As if becoming an attorney wasn’t ambitious enough, she decided to go on and continue her education (yes, again!) and is currently living in hell Gainsville, Florida as she completes her Masters of Law degree in Taxation.  If that doesn’t make you want to slit your wrists.  The University of Florida Gator part, not the taxation…    She is only a temporary Gator and not a real fan, which is good otherwise half the Martini Tour would die from a stroke.  I mean, what a stab in the heart to LSU. Gah!  Oh well, the program is ranked third in the country (she got into the 2nd ranked school, but chose otherwise since she’s already lived in DC,) so we can’t blame her for her decision.  As dorky as she will be, I’m kind of excited for her to help me find some loopholes on next year’s tax return.   She left Larry and the dogs behind in New Orleans and will return after the spring semester.

Speaking of Larry, he is coming home with Molly for his first Christmas in Dallas.  He has been to a few Thanksgivings in the swamp but never to experience the Stanga madness during the holidays.  Mom is so excited to have him join us this year, she has gone all out.  We never have ribbon and bows on our Christmas presents, just plain ‘ole wrapping paper.  Not this year! Our gifts are all decked out and when I inquire as to why, she says “It’s for Larry.”  My mom also has a beautiful snow village collection that she has stopped displaying in recent years, but this year it’s back up and glowing.  Now that Claire can appreciate it and Larry is coming, her Christmas spirit is back and brighter than ever.  It’s precious, really.  I sure hope Larry likes the dysfunctional routine we still have to go through, even at the ages of 34, 31 and 26!  Yes, Lar – you will have to line up oldest to youngest for the annual Christmas morning portrait.  {Make sure you wear cute jammies!}

SCOTT

Not a whole lot to say about Scott, except what I do have to say is big news.  He has decided to go back into the military.  He and Mark were both in the Air Force for 6 years and they really enjoyed the pride, the discipline and the benefits of serving our country.  With so much going on and our troops being pulled out, the opportunity for veterans to re-enlist has been few and far between.  There aren’t any openings for Air Force, so he has decided to go back in as Army.  Due to a major backlog, he doesn’t leave until May 2011 and will go to South Carolina for 10 weeks and then Maryland for another 26 weeks. 

Luckily, he gets to keep his same ranking as when he left the Air Force, but he does get to take another stab at boot camp.  At least he knows what to expect this time around and has been working his booty off getting into tip-top shape for his training.  It’s funny, he has to do physical training every other week at the recruiting office and all the young 18 year old recruits ask him all kinds of questions on what to expect.  I think he really enjoys counseling the young, oblivious soldiers-to-be. 

Also, the biggest relief  is that he won’t be in infantry or anything of the sort.  He has taken a communications opportunity that will allow him to gain a whole new skill-set which can be used well into the future as technology continues to evolve.  Besides him missing more holidays in the upcoming years and the distance between us, we are very excited for him to start pursuing this new career. 

MARK, MAEGAN & CLAIRE

Where, oh, where to begin.  There is just so much to say about Miss Claire, I can’t even think of it all.  In May, Mark & Maegan broke our hearts by uprooting their family and moving to Charlotte, North Carolina.  It was a tough adjustment for everyone involved, but mostly for Nonnie and Claire.  Before they left, I set them up on a Skype account and bought my mom a webcam for Mother’s Day.  They spend hours upon hours chatting with each other.  We are so fortunate that they were able to come home for 3 weeks in November and are coming back again this week!  After the holidays, they are moving to Naples, Florida for another 6 months of Maegan’s training program and then will be moving to open up shop in San Antonio.  It will be so nice to only have them 5 hours away, but still not quite the same as being 15 minutes away.  We sure do miss that little girl {and her mommy and daddy too!}

I can’t even think of all the things Claire has done in the last 6 months or so, but she will talk.your.ear.off!  I’ll just run down a random list of things that come to mind.

*When asked what she wanted Santa Clause to bring her for Christmas, she responded. “A beer.” She’s two and a half.   That’s our girl!

*If you ask her to do something, she now uses her best pirate voice and says “Aye Aye Captain {insert name.}”

*I yike ice cream.  Tini, do you yike ice cream?  I yike ice cream.  Nonnie, do you yike ice cream?  I yike ice cream.  Yaney, do you like ice cream?  I yike ice cream.*  {IT.NEVER.STOPS.}

*Mark told Claire that they were going to go on an airplane to visit Nonnie’s house and Santa was going to come.  She disappeared.  He later found her in her room piling all her clothes into bags.  She was ready to go right that second.  Poor baby has had to wait 3 weeks!

*”Close your eyes.  One. Two. Three. Tooprise!”

*One night during her three week visit, she wanted her crackers instead of her dinner.  Her daddy said she couldn’t have any until she ate her meal.  Well, smarty pants noticed I was standing right there, so she tells her daddy to leave the room for a second.  I then am summoned over to her and she whispers: “Yaney.  Give me the crackers!”  Too dang funny!

*She LOVES to sing Marry had a yitto yam, yitto yam, yitto yam.  Marry had a yitto yam, it's fleece was white as snoooooooowwww.  Marry had a coowonday, coowonday, coowonday…” {Mary went to school one day…}  Cutest damned thing you ever did hear!

*Nonnie was showing her a picture of herself, and asked who was in the picture.  She responded, very impatiently, IT’S ME! CWAIRE! OKAY!?” And went about her business. 

*She is very proud of her potty achievements and likes Tini to see the big mess she’s made in her big girl potty. 

I literally could go on and on and on about how freaking cute that child is, but it’s just too much.  She is such a nut.  No clue where she gets it…

I will leave you with pictures:

  My goodness, I could just eat her up! 

________________________________________________

Sorry for a very boring, catch-up post, but since I haven’t done that great of a job all year, BAM!  Here it all is….

There should be some good dysfunctional stories to come out of the holidays, so stay tuned… {but don’t hold your breath!}

Fool you once, shame on me. Fool you twice, shame on you!

Y’all didn’t really think I was going to go full-throttle back into the virtual journal that is my life. I apologize for the temporary privacy laws that were implemented on such space, however this sweet little diddy needed a major facelift.

The outcome?

Pathetic.

What you see is what you get…for now. I really, desperately, must-have-or-I-will-curl-up-and-die, adding-to-my-Christmas-list, absolutely want new software to give this place a decent renovation, but whatever. Standardized templates, I’m not above you (anymore and only temporary, don’t get excited Blogger.)

Anyhoo, yes, there are still random graphics and pictures missing from certain posts. If you think I’m going to go back and replace them, you’re out of your mind. I say that, however we’re entering the slow season at work and I may end up poking my eyeballs out of boredom in a few short weeks and will then decide to further the touch-ups. But don’t count on it. Basically, anything that comes out of my mouth is bullshit. Except what I really mean, that stuff is true. Kind of. But don’t put any expectations on me.

Believe it or not, keeping up with a blog and trying to capture my thoughts (a daunting task of its own) and putting them into a description for my two thousands of blogstalkers is quite time-consuming,overwhelming, and at times, is a down right pain in the ass. There have been times I’ve wanted to throw in the towel, but for you, I will keep going. Because I have oh.so.much to say. My words are life-altering, really.

I will also quit complaining now and give you the beef of what brought me back to the blog today.

Whataburger.

Yes, ladies and gents, Whataburger brought me back to the blog.

Today, I received my first email for the 12 Days of WhataChristmasBurger.

Tomorrow is Day 1 and the giveaway is, drumroll please….

{literally sitting here trying to make that drumroll noise with my tongue, like this:

TOMORROW’S GIVEAWAY IS THE TAQUITO!!!

It brings back such sweet memories of last year’s WhataChristmasBurger Taquito.

Remember?

I Got Brains. I Got Big ‘Ole Brains. I Got Dinosaur Brains.

I have stellar judgment.

Really, I do.

So when the doc said my bones are starting to look like those of an 80 year old woman, I thought to myself: Wow. I really need to do something to prevent any further damage, if that's possible.

So what do I do... ???

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Two weeks after my diagnosis, I proceeded to run a quick 13.1 miles in New Orleans with my sister. The Rock & Roll Mardi Gras Marathon Series was too.much.fun with all the bands set up each mile, helping you keep in your groove.

However, have you ever been to New Orleans? Definitely NOT the best roads to run on. If the impact of a normal run on my knees wasn’t painful enough, each step I took was a sudden drop into an uneven crack, pothole or pile of rocks. Ouch!

Ok, ok – that’s it. I swear I’m done running. Biking it is…

Tap the breaks. I lied. I’m not done running, I still have another half to complete. Two weeks after the Nola Rock & Roll, it was time for the Rock & Roll Dallas race, which was advertised as ‘fast, flat and fun.”

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Um… I have never heard more nonsense in my life. The first 8 miles were uphill.

That’s right, I said 8.

Eight.

Did you get that? E.I.G.H.T.

Incline.

8.

Uphill.

Oh dear Jesus, did you NOT just hear what the doctor told me?

…and you call this taking it easy?

I’ll show you taking it easy… it involves a couch, my sweats, a football game and a cold beer. {When you start seeing me develop a beer gut that hangs out the bottom of my Cheeto-stained shirt, just remember, I’m just following doc’s instructions."}

Finally, both halves I had already registered for were completed and I earned my 26.2 Musical Miles medal from the Rock & Roll Marathon Series. I’m real proud because that’s the only 26.2 mile medal I’ll ever have, split into two races, but nobody needs to know that. So when someone comes in my office and asks if I ran a full marathon, you really shouldn’t be surprised if I let them think that.

Anyhoo, I’m done running.

Done.

D.O.N.E.

Well….you know until I was summoned to do the Mud Run on the Trinity River Levee. 9 miles and 20+ obstacles of pure hell bliss. Ahhh….

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It was probably a good 15 extra elle.bees added to my weight with all my water-logged and mud-crusted fatigues. Key word. Fatigue.

Okay guys, seriously … I’m done running. That worked my body out in places I didn’t even know I had muscles. I was also cleaning mud out of body parts I’m not quite sure I knew existed before then. Delicious.

What’s that you say? Warrior Dash? Totally forgot I signed up for that back in November. Well, I guess it’s paid for, so I’m in.

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And with that my friends…I’m done with races. Well, until I get talked into another one. I just can’t seem to stay away.

So much for preserving my knees.

And about that Viagra ... pretty sure I don’t need any assistance with morning stiffness.

Or even 12 hour stiffness for that matter.

{In regards to the title, please reference: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ets0xkUk17Y}

Caution: Construction Zone

Woah, where did all my images go? I mean, I know it's all completely outdated and I need to revamp the 'ole blog anyhow, but so many of my graphics are missing. Cool. Real cool.

I'll get to work on the fix soon enough (you know, like I keep promising I'm going to get back to my old blogging self.) Until then, please pardon the ugly blank boxes.

Boo.

Dude Looks Like A Lady

I often joke about how I really am a man trapped in a woman's body. Not like one of those unfortunate kids that is confused with his/her identity and dress like the opposite sex (and I truly find that really sad,) but more of like a girl who just has similar traits to that of dudes.

The majority of the time, my give-a-damn is either broken or downright non-existent and I just don't care about many things typical girls obsess over.

Reality TV? Lame.

Gossip/Celeb magazines? Ehhh...

Diet fads? Give me a break!

Skinny Girl Margaritas? Gross.

Kiss FM? Yikes!

I wake up 30 minutes before I have to leave for work. I think dirty humor is hilarious. I have a hard time watching my language, much to my mother's dismay. I absolutely love sports, watching more than playing, because let's face it, most men are too damn lazy to actually play (like myself.) I appreciate a really cold beer. I love the taste of Scotch. I have started drinking my liquor with water, which I tell myself is to minimize the hangover.

I'm sure there is a laundry-list of other reasons why I'm a guy's girl, but the one I was given today takes the cake.

Not a slice.

The whole cake.

Triple tiered cake.

With raspberry filling.

And double frosting.

{...and suddenly I want cake.}

Today I had a check-up appointment with my Rheumatologist.

{Wait, reverse. In all the time I spent not blogging, I developed an awesome little condition known as Osteoarthritis. At the ripe young age of 25. Suh-weet! So my knees hurt, my finger knuckles are turning knobby and it's all downhill from here.}

With this little diagnosis, came another one known as Raynaud's disease. Due to Raynaud's, my hands turn ghostly white (seriously, Google Image Raynaud's and look at the freakshow that is my disease) my feet turn purple and my extremities tingle and hurt until they go numb for an hour or so.

{When's the circus coming to town? I could use some extra cash.}

So, when I went to rehash the condition with the doc today, he wanted to talk to me about a clinical study that seems to be effective for Raynaud's. Dr. F has a very serious/dry sense of humor but is always giving me a hard time, nonetheless. I usually have to use context clues and wait a minute to see if he's feeding me bullshit or not. Today was no different. He starts like this:

"Well, we are starting a clinical study for a new Raynaud's treatment and since you have such a chronic onset, I feel that you would be an excellent candidate for this research. The drug is very safe, has been around for quite sometime, but just hasn't been used for this specific cause yet. The side effects are minimal. You have probably heard of it... Viagra."

This man is hilarious. So I cut him off.

"I would absolutely LOVE to take Viagra. Like a pink fluffy heart with lace and sequins kind of love. I know all about the side effects. I've seen the commercials: If I experience an erection for more than 12 hours, I should contact my physician."

{Crickets.}

"OMG! You're serious?"

"Well, obviously we know that Viagra stimulates blood flow to 'certain' areas and so far it's been proven to also help circulate blood through the hands and feet as well. We can discuss the perimeters in more detail in my office...."

Upon telling my dad this, after he was able to catch his breath and stop laughing, in typical Mike Stanga humor, he gives me the upside:

"Well, at least this will probably straighten out your toes too."

That my friends, is really the reason I am so much like a dude.

What kind of erection do you think I'll have?

Pardon the dust!

I’m not positive that I’ve officially crawled out of my blog funk, but I may be on the up and out. I kind of feel like Jesus, wearing an “I love blogging” t-shirt, trapped in a cave by a huge boulder. A boulder compiled of the lack of motivation, the lack of energy, the lack of creativity, the lack of anything good to say.

And today is my Easter.

 

No, not funny? Inappropriate? Whatever.

I was quite humbled when I had fans, <sarcasm>I mean thousands upon thousands of them</sarcasm> ask if the Stanga Train had run out of steam. I wouldn’t necessarily say it ran out of steam, as there is way too much dysfunction to ever… I.MEAN.EVER. … run out of steam. I’d rather say that the train stopped and the conductor stepped down from the engine and spent some serious time in the bar … or something like that.

With all that bullshit being said above, I have declared that it is time to dust off my tales *cough cough* because I’ve got an excellent come-back blog in the works.

Remember the cats?!?! Those damn cats my mom likes to collect?

Well, on a Monday back in May, one of our beloved feline friends bit the dust. After much debate and many tears and a shit ton of cheers from my dad and me , it was time to put dialysis cat Maxie down. The word down is about to have a whole new meaning for you folks. 

As a reminder, Maxie was my grandmother’s cat that lived with us for 5 {count ‘em: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5} years after my grandma passed away. By the time Maxie had reached the youthful age of 18 years old, he had already expended his checking account left by grandma (this is 100% true…and you wonder why my mom is bat-shit crazy) had been receiving daily dialysis treatments on our pool table in the triage center for two years, and had managed to slim up for bikini season by dropping from twenty+  el-bees to about seven.

Adios Maxie. Poor Maxie.

Since Maxie was only our temporary pet and really belong to my beloved maternal grandmother, it was only appropriate that he rest in peace with her, correct?

Are you reading between the lines yet?

Well, small problem. Or a long distance problem actually. The Roberts duo is buried in Covington, LA – a small suburb on the north shore of New Orleans.

If you are shaking your head no, thinking there is no possible way that The Train is hauling a dead cat 8 hours in a car to New Orleans, let me introduce us.

We’re the Stanga’s.

So, as creepy/weird/completely jacked up as it would be to travel with a cat corpse in the car, it would have made this little gem of a story that much better. But no worries, the cat was at least in the ash-form.

Okay, so in my head I’m thinking:

Maybe it’s not totally ridiculous to travel 8 hours with a dead cat to a graveyard if we’re only going to sprinkle the ashes on top of the grave.

Then I was overwhelmed with reality. Unlike my blogging, the train doesn’t stop there.

Oh.My.God. NO!!!!

Leslie, what the crap is in your hand?!?!

Is that a shovel?!?!?

Ever been to a cat funeral? Because sure enough, that crazy lady {who claims to be my mother, but I will forever deny it after this} took it upon herself to dig up my grandmother’s grave and bury the cat.

Did you read that closely?

Buried a cat in a human grave.

I blame her for my recent drinking binge.

So, excuse us G-ma, Pardon the Dust!

Pretty sure this is a federal offense, as I don’t really think you can dig up someone’s eternal resting place without earning a shiny pair of matching bracelets.

Anyhoo, this dark feline funeral cloud has a bit of a silver lining.

Apparently, the graveyard maintenance men got a bit confused and placed a “DAD” silk flower arrangement on my grandfather’s grave. There is no way my uncle would have put it there, my aunt lives in Virginia and my mom didn’t put it there – so she felt that it didn’t need to be there. So yes, my mother dug up a grave to bury a cat and she stole funeral mementos!

But, the good thing is, we’ll save some money on flower arrangements when that day comes for my mom to bury daddy on top of the cat who is buried on top of my grandma.