Tuesday, December 27, 2011

It's the Most Wonderful Time for a Beer


(post copyright 2010, Dawn Weber)
(Please enjoy this re-post while I take a little bloggy break. Anyway, can it really be the holidays without this goofy shit little ditty I wrote last year?)

It’s the Most Wonderful Time For a Beer!
My paycheck has gone
Straight to Amazon Com
And the husband’s in tears!
It’s the Most Wonderful Time
For a Beer!

It’s the Hap, Happiest Season
Of All!
Unless you're a woman
In which case you're gonna
Be frantic as hell!
It's the Hap, Happiest Season
Of All!

There'll be lights that aren't lighting
Causing Weber fighting
While hanging the crap on the tree
There'll be traffic to crawl through
To get to the mall through
Please - give some Xanax to me.

It’s the Most Wonderful Time
For a Beer!
The tree’s leaning left
Why is it leaning left?
Shit - give me more beer!
It’s the Most Wonderful Time for a Beer!

It's the most Wonderful Time for a Beer!
With visiting relatives
Making me wish I had
Non-working ears!
It's the Most Wonderful Time for a Beer!

There’ll be candy for eating
And fudge to be sneaking
And egg nog filling my glass
There’ll be cookies for scarfing
And pies to be snarfing
Just slap it all right on my ass!

It's the Most Wonderful Time for a Beer!
The money's all spent
I know right where it went
These two kids right here!
It's the Most Wonderful Time...
It's the Most Nerve-Wracking Time...
It's the Most Wonderful Time for a Beer!

Sunday, December 18, 2011

You Spin Me Right Round. Like a 60s Crooner, Baby

Arguing with my best friend - a tradition since 1976.

Yeah, she's entitled to her opinion.

Too bad for her it's wrong.

"Green!" I say.
"Red!" she says.

She is a stellar mother, wife, daughter, church council member and director of food services for an entire state university. She has been my very best friend for nearly 30 years. Still, she is...

...WRONG.

And frankly, I don't mind telling her so.

"No way, Amber! You know green is better. Come on!" I say.
"Uh-uh. Sorry. The red one is the best." she says.

She and I like to debate Very Important Issues. Such as politics, child rearing, religion and the Andy Williams Christmas albums.

Shut up. We're old. And, apparently, nerds.

In the 70s, over on Garfield Road, she grew up listening to the red-covered "Andy Williams Christmas Album" - the Red One - during the holidays.

Clearly Inferior

While a mile away, I spent my holidays listening to the Green One -"Merry Christmas" Andy Williams.

Obviously the right choice
Yep. From age four, the Green One was always the first Christmas record I loaded onto our big-azz wooden console stereo.

"Jing-a-ling! Jing-jing-a-ling!"

That's how it starts out, with "Sleigh Ride." Then, I'd begin my seasonal hobby of spinning in circles in front of the Christmas tree. The music, all those colors - they were everything. They brought magic, and I made it my mission to spin fast enough that my eyeballs would register the lights as one continuous blur.

Goalz: Even as a preschooler, I had them. Obviously, I was destined for greatness. And possibly autistic.

We didn't own the Red One, but lots of other folks did. So I tried spinning in circles as they played it on their big-azz console stereos. The first song?

"I'm dreaming of a white Christmas..."

Zzzzz. Lame. Try to spin fast enough to blur the lights with that one. I stopped spinning, plunked down and listened to the rest of it. Yeah, Andy still sang, but aside from "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year," the record stunk. Lacked a certain Je Ne Sais What.

It was clear that the Red One was for losers.

I told this to my best friend. Then, we argued.

We argued about it in the 70s, wearing polyester.
"Green!" I said.
We argued about it in the 80s, with spiral perms.
"Red!" she said.
We argued about it in the 90s, with our toddlers in tow.
"Green!" I said.

We argued this in her Buick. We argued in my Ford. We have argued this in our high school, our kitchens, on cruise ships, on the phone and on Facebook. The other day, I received this text from her:

"RED!"

Obnoxious.

Sorry about your luck, my BFF. Because I now have proof positive that the Green Andy Williams album is better. I found the following information about your Red One on Amazon.com, therefore it must be true.


See that, Amber? Wade here says that "Andy's consummate artistry was better in the 'Green Album'"... and that "I will go to play the "Green Album before the 'Red Album.'"

And it's not just Wade, no. Rodney also prefers the green:


"Christmas man" Rodney says that the Green One "has a little more christmas spark in it..."

What's that, BFF? Still not convinced? O.K.


As you can see, "Joshua" feels strongly about this.

So go ahead, Amber, play your loser Red One.

I'll be spinning and dancing in front of the tree, playing the Green One, along with Wade, Rodney, Joshua, the rest of "Mankin" and this cool cat:

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Santa and His Bra


(post copyright 2010, Dawn Weber. Slightly re-worked post from last year. Because - surprise! - I'm a little busy over here!)

Pssst...Santa wears a bra. And panties. And, sometimes, pumps.

That's because he is a she.

Has to be. Take a look around - there's no other way to explain it. All around the U.S., women are frantically planning for the holiday season.

And men...aren't.

I hate to sound sexist. So I'll just perpetuate a male/female stereotype. This time of year, women cook. We clean. We decorate. We bake cookies for entire school districts. We plan gourmet menus for people we hate.

We deck the freaking halls.

Females stalk sales, surf the web, shop the shops and max out the credit cards. We Blacken Friday.

That's because we have to buy for kids, husbands, moms and dads. We have to buy for aunts, uncles, grandmas, grandpas, friends, friends' kids, dogs, cats, garbage men, the homeless and homeless garbage men.

There is one - and only one - logical reason for this: We are suckas...Sucka Clauses.

Guys? They don't worry about this stuff. They don't have to. They have us.

Hold the angry comments - because I know there are exceptions not many. But for the most part, women regard December 1 as the beginning of a frantic, stressful emergency.

Men regard December first as...December first.

In fact, the whole season takes my husband by surprise.

On December 10: "What? You bought 80 Christmas cards!? Do we KNOW 80 people?"

On December 15: "What? You want to get a Christmas tree? Already?"

On December 20: "What? You want to put up lights? Already?"

And my personal favorite, on December 24: "What do you want for Christmas, dear? It's time for me to start shopping..."

Of course, my holiday shopping began in December, too. December of last year.

Purchasing presents ranks as the only holiday activity I enjoy. That's because it's the one time of year that I can spend many thousands of dollars! Virtually guilt-free! Because it's for others! Mostly. Except for those boots...and that Ipod...and...

So as not to cause the husband's first heart attack yet, I usually try to space out gift-buying over several paychecks. I don't always succeed, though, judging by our recent conversation:

"Holy s%#t!" he said, looking at the checkbook register.

"I know," I said. "But I had to start shopping so the stuff gets shipped on time."

"But four hundred forty- eight DOLLARS?!!" he said. "What did you buy?!"

"Stuff for the kids...the grandmas... And I'm not even close to done yet, so stop complaining," I said.

"But...four hundred forty-eight dol..." he said.

"You think this stuff just magically appears under the tree, don't you?" I said.

"Don't Santa and the elves bring it?" he said.

"You're lookin' at Santa. And the elves. And her checkbook," I said. "Now, hand us a beer, would ya? We're beat, and these new boots are killing us."

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Beer for Your Bra? Abso-flippin-lutely!

Let's face it - boobs can be some worrisome sonsabitches.

They bounce. They sag. Sometimes, they hurt. They bring mammograms and medical worries and Pamela Andersons.

Really, our breasts are appreciated mostly by the men and babies in our lives. Infants seek them for sustenance, while guys like our coconuts for purely recreational purposes.

It's true - as I mentioned last week - that my bouncers have given me superpowers. But I am not immune to the problems they cause.

So ladies, I have a question: What have your blinkers done for YOU lately? Not a whole helluva lot?

That's all about to change, because girls - I bring you glad tidings of great joy.

Now your knobbers can work for you, with the Wine Rack sports bra!


This here hooter-holster holds up to 750 ml or 25 oz. of fluid, which is, conveniently, the amount of liquid in one bottle of wine, or one swig shy of two standard beers. As you can see from the helpful website, you simply fill the bra's polyurethane bladder with your "favorite beverage," put it on, run the "drinking tube as you wish" and then, apparently, suck away.

It's a gott-dang boobie beer bong.

Yes, we can now produce alcohol, basically, from our own chi-chi's gag! . That? Right there? Is disgusting! Klassy with a K, people! Where's my debit card?

No more pesky wine glasses, no more chilled chardonnay, no frosty beer mugs, thank-you-very-much. I'll take my hooch through a plastic tube at a balmy, possibly sweaty 98.6.

I get nauseous thirsty just thinking about it.

But wait! There's more! Of course there is! The manufacturer says that the Wine Rack, when filled, can transform your size B mammies into DD doozies. This will, apparently, make you extremely happy, and I have the pictures to prove it. Just look at this girl:

Before: Empty Wine Rack:

It's so frustrating, living life as a B-cup and a size 2.

After: Full Wine Rack:
Shazam! Now her life is complete!

I'm sure all three of my male readers are disappointed that the Wine Rack is obviously designed for females and transvestite hookers. Fear not, fellas, for I have good news for you, too.

The Beer Belly strap-on contraption holds 80 oz., or more than a sixer, of beverages. Haven't you always wanted a six-pack stomach?

And - when the fluid eventually works its way out - the Beer Belly could maybe serve as a handy catheter?

Which is the catheter, which is the Beer Belly? Hard to tell. 
Kidding aside, the true glory of the these products lies in the fact that you can take your tepid beverages with you anywhere - to football games, concerts, church, staff meetings, parent-teacher conferences...

You know - all the places you need a shot.

So, this holiday season, grab a Wine Rack or a Beer Belly for the lushes special people in your life.

Because nothing says "Happy Birthday, Baby Jesus!" better than a bra full of body-temperature booze.