Happy New Years~ 2010!

Entrepreneur Chick wishes everyone a very happy, safe, blessed New Year's Eve!

We are going to a big birthday New Year's Eve bash for one of our dear friends, and an outrageous entrepreneur who I always learn something from.

How are you guys celebrating?

Okay, I Got it! Can U?

At first this looks to the untrained eye, to be a massive glump of unmatching choreography- but it's really not.

The key to mastering this dance hinges on two primary things:

(1)You absolutely must change your weight as you dance.

(2) Understanding the dynamics of a ball change step (in tap) as it repeats itself so often-  is a big, fat plus.

If you were here, gentle readers, I could easily show you how.

First take a look at how utterly sharp this looks:

Now, for a closer look as to how it's done, try this:



Another good way to learn, is don't start from the top.
See when the dancers turn around and face the back?
You be "behind" them. That way, it's much easier to follow when you are facing the same way, and on the same foot,
since, afterall,
we are not in the studio.

Take small sections over and over until you master them.
Only then, move on.
By doing that, you are working on what I am SO big on in class-
MUSCLE MEMORY!

Muscle memory is what occurs when you are so fluid with the step,
that as you dance, you find you do not even have to think about it!
Dancing just happens!

But just in case you need more help, here is the instructions from the top- enjoy!
(By the way, the music is "I Feel Fine" by Mary J. Blige)

LF - step forward and back 3x


slide right, slide left, slide right

LF - shuffle left 3 counts

Cross LF over RF, alternate 7 counts

slide right, slide left



***LF - point left, tap in, out-in-out

Tap right, tap left, Tap right, tap left

Right knee, left knee

RF half turn, half turn

RF kick front, then back

Body roll, 2x

LF, cross RF, tap left, step back, right-left

Cross RF over LF, alternate 7 counts

slide left, slide right

RF - point right, tap in, out-in-out

Tap left, tap right, Tap left, tap right

Left knee, right knee

LF half turn, half turn

LF kick front, then back

Body roll, 2x



(RF, cross LF, tap right, step back, right-left

LF, cross RF, tap left, step back, right-left) repeat this sequence

LF tap out, RF tap out, turning to the LEFT

6 counts, then body roll

LF tap out, RF tap out, turning to the RIGHT

6 counts, then body roll

LF tap out, RF tap out, turning to the LEFT

6 counts, then body roll

LF, cross RF, tap left, step back, right-left

RF kick front, RF kick side, half turn to the right and RF step back

START OVER!



Note: After 3rd rotation, start from (***)

The last rotation is "slide left, slide right" END OF DANCE

Would you be Willing to Fail 17 Times to Make Millions?

You could look at it like that. Or, you could look at it from the standpoint that it took me seventeen times to get it right.

We had an eye opening exercise this morning. Wouldn't it be fun to list all of the businesses we've started in the past ten years? As we have, on December twenty ninth, been married ten years.

Out of this list of twenty, three were (are still) producers.

Of the three, one currently produces six figures.

Of the two, only one (will produce) millions.

Looking back over our list, Tony inquired, "What does this tell you?"

"It tells me that this is why people buy franchises!"


Some of these businesses never made it past the idea stage, while others have taken considerable time and cash lay out. I won't say which is what, but here is the list. As you can see, I don't lack for a stinking idea, do I? Diversity doesn't seem to be much of a problem either.

• Moving company
• Marketing company
• Nutricuetical company
• Dance company
• Energy deregulation company
• Entertainment company
• Real estate holding company
• Weight loss management company
• Aloe vera products company
• Entertainment company #2
• Talent Agency
• Funeral Event Agency
• Inventions: weighted walking vest, inflatable camping supplies, dog bicycle trailer
• Restaurant: in which you only get the proper calories for your body/age/gender
• Art company
• Radiant barrier company
• Pimp My Minnow (parent company of Pimp My Worm) fishing industry company
• Marketing company #2
• Photography company specializing in high end model-esque effects
• Entertainment company #3

Carolers From Da Hood

"Where'd you get them?" asked Amy.

"Cracker Barrel." I replied.

"You got them at the whitest place on earth?! "

"They were on sale."

"You think?"

Amy went on to explain that she knew, most likely, what had happened.

On the order form, where the buyer from Cracker Barrel was supposed to check-

101: White Carolers

102: Black Carolers

"102 Black Carolers" was inadvertently marked. A big, "M'bad", from Da Barrel, the result.

Yet to save the day, along comes a mild mannered (except for me) interracial couple.

Tony has always commented, "We need to get some pictures of some black folks up in here."

Me: Do you say "up in here" because we live on the second floor?

Allison: Oh my God, Tony. They don't make 'em any whiter than that, do they?

Tony: No. They don't.

But that was ten years ago. A lot has changed.

I know some stuff.

People often mistake me for being white, that's how much stuff I know.

For instance, I know that those carolers are really standing in front of an ignited trash barrel to stay warm.

I bet you just see a red tea light from Pier One, don't you?

Uh huh.

White.

How I am Spending the Christmas Holiday

I baked three gingerbread cookies from a pre-made mix, which said clearly, "Do not consume raw cookie dough", but I decided they didn't know what they were

talking about

and did it anyway.

I feel great.

Then:

I watched "It's a Charlie Brown Christmas"

and took a nap.

If my life gets any more exciting, I don't know what I'm going to do.

Do You Think This Girl is Dead? Or, How to Tell if Your Business Is

This girl has been the subject of much debate. Is she dead or is she not?

What do you think?

Why, you might be asking, would you think she's dead, for heaven's sake!?

Back in the 1800's, though we would find the practice perfectly morbid today, families who lost loved ones routinely engaged in

postmortem photography.

This is Ebay's description of her:

"You are bidding on an ANTIQUE Possible Post Mortem, CABINET PHOTO depicting a Lovely Young Victorian Lady. TO ME, She Looks Dead. Please check out all my PICS, and see what you think. To me, she looks like she's propped up on this chair. Her left arm is very limply just hanging there. Her eyes are closed, her head hanging down. I don't know, to me it looks eerie. I don't think she's alive, but I COULD BE WRONG!! Photographer was Ph. W. Lenz, Dubuque, Iowa."

Guess how much she went for?

One hundred and forty seven dollars!

The following are opinions as to her macabre state.

"I believe she is dead for several reasons the seller did not include in her description", says Footmaven at the Grave Yard Rabbit's Association.

[1] The position of her legs. Women of the day did not sit with their knees that far apart. The right leg is turned at an awkward angle.

[2] Her dress is stuffed under her thigh. A lady would not sit for a photograph with her skirt stuffed under her. Photographs were expensive and the sitter as well as the photographer wanted them to be perfect. Women were represented in the most genteel pose possible. This is not a genteel pose.

[3] I also agree with the statement that the arms hanging down appear to be awkward. Very unladylike. The eyes look dark and sunken.

In response to Footmaven, other people said:

"I took a good look at this photograph and I also believe she is dead. Post mortem photographs are not unusual. They take many forms - lying in bed, lying on a couch, in a casket, or a previous picture placed in a scroll on a memorial card. I have not seen one of an adult propped up in a chair."

Sally J. said...

"Like you, Maven, I've never seen an adult post mortem photo where the subject is propped up in a chair. Casket or bed, yes. On the other hand, I've seen enough post mortem baby photos to last a lifetime. Is there anything more heartbreaking?

Her fingernails look black to me. Or is that just my imagination?"

Becky said...

"Totally creepy. Yep, I think she's a goner too! Not a very flattering either ;-) I don't think I've ever seen a post-mortem picture of an adult though I have of small children and infants. Gives me the weeby-jeebies just looking at her. If ya can't take a picture of me before I die, don't take one afterwards either!!!"

And Entrepreneur Chick's favorite-

 

Thomas MacEntee said...

"Deader'n a door nail as Scrooge once said. I also find that the arms appear a bit puffed.

Or could it just be that her corset is a wee bit tight and she has momentarily passed out?"

Now what do you guys think?

Dead? Alive? Corset faint?

I have a theory that no one has asserted yet.

What if she is merely changing poses and the photographer caught her in between?

Happens all the time!

This would explain the looking down. This would explain the awkward leg positioning. BUT, it would not explain the limp hand. It would not explain the slight edema of her arms.

Sooo, now I'm back to thinking she's dead.

While we will never be entirely certain of this girl's morbidity, what we can be certain about is a dying business.

That's so easy.

You're business is dead if:

There ain't no new sales!

This is How I Think, Enjoy!

Crazy for Christmas?

As children we all learned this- when we see a hot stove, do we put our hand on the burner?

No!

As adults, have we all learned this?

When we see a crazy lady, do we be her friend?

No!

While sitting innocently enough at my friend Jamie's martini bar, at first I thought "Amanda" was Marge's friend; therefore I was quite nice and treated her graciously, as I would anyone.

When I began to notice Amanda, in her black and red leopard print bling-bling infused blouse, full of random "fucks", "shits" and "mercy!" was something of a whackjob, I casually inquired,

"So Marge, how do you and Amanda know each other?"

"Oh, we don't. I was sitting here and she pulled up a chair."

But the deal was, Amanda was 73 if she was a day, and I have been taught to respect my elders.  I continued to be congenial even when she, rather in a drunken state asked-

"Who are you really, Mary?"

(Amanda is from England. She refused to say my name correctly at all, because, "It is far too long.")

"Who am I really? I'm an entrepreneur."

"So what.  And?"

"And I can take you or leave you."

"Oh,  jolly good! In that case, I'd like you to come over to my home after this. We'll open a bottle of wine and put on some music. Will you come?"

Even though she liked Miles Davis and John Coltrane and had a great copy of Dorothy Parker and her husband died four years ago and she's very lonely and she owns a bangin' sea green Christian Dior hat from the 1960's perfect for our Retro Dinner Club, and "Don't fuck with me- I have so much more money than you do", she said for no apparent reason- I've seen enough of this personality type to know that it's not a match.

I do not have the skills needed to cope with toxic people, nor do I feel I should develop the inclination.

Here are seven signs you're dealing with someone who will never have your best interest at heart.

Just in time for all those family gatherings this time of year, huh?

Give your crazy, drunken, nasty joke telling in front of your children uncle a few smooches from Entrepreneur Chick.

My December Funktification

It happens every year. You know how the last day of school can't be taken seriously?

You know how the last couple of days before the last day of school can't be taken seriously?

And how, pretty much the whole week before the last day of school can't be taken seriously?

There's important things I could truly be doing for my companies.

But you know- the pretty lights, the parties, the cold weather, the parties.

I feel myself slipping further and further away into "Deck Them Halls", Monkey Munch, egg nog, gingerbread, pumpkin bread, I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus, you're such a blockhead, Charlie Brown! and have you done your shopping yet? So who honestly cares about meeting fourth quarter goals and cash flow? In fact, what's wrong with you, GrinchFace, that you would even bring it up?!

Meh. It's Christmas time!

How Not to Lose a Good Employee

I love this girl! Everything I ask her to do- "Shawnna, I need you to go over here and do this."

"Okay."

"Shawnna, I need you to go over here and be here at this time and do it like this."

"Okay."

And not only does she do what I ask, she does it right and I know she does it right because she gets good reviews and all my clients love her.

You might think with unemployment rates so high it must be very easy for me to get quality employees, but that is not the case. It's  not. Additionally, for two of my companies, a very specific set of skills and aptitudes are required, one of which is the abiltity to be able to speak in front of people. There are two fears that most people have-

(1) Death

(2) Public speaking

This lowers my hiring margins considerably, and not just any warm body will do. It is imperative that I hire talent.

So when Shawnna sent me an email two weeks ago that read, "I regret to inform you.." I knew what I was in for. Oh, boy. I'm losing her. While she loved everything about her job and "appreciated everything you've done for me and the opportunity you've given me... and I hate that it has to end", her family, it seems, did not want her to travel as far as I need her to travel.

My first response was, which I emailed back: I completely understand and you always have a place with me.

My second response was, and this is the unprofessional thing that you do not say, which I touched upon last week- I thought I was hiring YOU and not your FAMILY for crapsakes.

And then it came to me. What am I?

An entrepreneur.

What do all entrepreneurs hate?

My mother always said, "Lisa, you never could tolerate being told 'no'."

You see, things don't go as smooth as silk in business. When you ram right up into a brick wall and it looks like a 'no', you tell yourself- all right, maybe it won't work like this but I just bet it might work like that.

"Shawnna, how about I offer you more money?"

"What do you have in mind?"

This also, is a enormous principle upon which I run my companies:

Pigs get fat, hogs get slaughtered.

I bumped her up from where she was with the staffing company, which was less, to  $25.00 an hour. Plus I sweetened the deal and told her I want to hire her to train new employees. She liked this idea and is happy with the new arrangement.

I am not going to miss at all, the additional money I'm paying her.

It's worth it to me, to pay someone more, than it is to start from scratch with someone who's unproven.

My companies are only as good as the people in them, and you better believe Entrepreneur Chick knows that.

I Pop it, 'till I DROP IT!

For all of my homie hip hop readers out there, such as myself, I am not refering to Huey's "Pop Lock and Drop It".

This is Brittny (red Santa hat) and me doing that exact dance.

What you don't know is that I am laughing hysterically making my eyes squinch like Renee Zellweger, due to the following conversation:

Me: Brittny, let me up!

Brittny: Hmmmm... no.

And what you don't see is that I have on some way cute, Nine West, three inch stacked ankle straps, trying to balance us both. One second later we fell on our cute little...

 AND I CAN'T SAY IT!

I have a rubberband on my wrist. Anytime I cuss or complain, I must pop myself equal to the number of infractions.

No one told me to do this. I decided I needed to take radical measures- otherwise I might end up like my Grandmother Edna, who was a one woman off Broadway show- launching into long, rambling discourses about her latest medical misfortunes.

All she needed was a few dance numbers and a Playbill.

If you'd like to know what I complain the most about, upon your next trip to the drug store, just pick up a bottle of Midol and read the list on the back of the box.

The first ten minutes I wore my rubberband, I violated the rules five times.

Three for cussing. Two for complaining.

I'm explaining, on the phone, this to Amy:

"I said "sh*@", "FU#@" and "as*#$@*."

"Who were you mad at?"

"Nobody."

Later in the day, I'm explaining, on the phone, this to Allison:

"I said, "sh*@", "FU#@!", and "as*#$@."

"You said "sh*@", "FU#@!", and a*#$@?"

"Yes."

"Well," she asks all Cheshire Cat like- "aren't you supposed to pop yourself now because you just said it again?"

"DAMN!" I say, because now I have to pop myself.

And then I go: "DAMN!" a second time and cover my mouth, because I remember "damn" is a cuss word.

"DAMN!"  spews forth a third time because my mouth apparently has a mind of its own.  I can't seem to stop myself. I'm filled with regret, realizing I now have to pop myself SIX times.

Do the math.

See?

I pop it 'till I drop it!

And to all my very pious readers, I've a question:

What word starts with an "F" and ends in a "CK"?

"Firetruck", you perverts.

P.S. I know some of you are concerned that I should not be doing that dance in the dress I was wearing, which looked like this, only with white piping down the sides:

But it was a private party and everyone there already knows I'm crazy, wild, nuts?

Is "intoxicated" the word you're looking for?

How to go Glamping: 101

I've been back from "glamping" for a week now, so here's the "glamping" pictures I promised.

Review. "Glamping"~ Like normal camping but with glamour added: therefore: glamping.

Here's how it works:

You have rugs- must place them everywhere in your tent. No dirt. Bad dirt. Dirt bad. (Listen, as a woman, I can tell you right now you do not want sand in your sleeping bag to sneak up right into your hoo ha and night. You will not get a dot of rest.)

Should you need anything quicky- flashlight? Tongs? Salt and pepper? Napkins? Batteries? Bandaides? Asprin? Acid reducer? Cold medicine? Rain jacket? (Yeah, there's actually two emergency rain coats in there...) you simply reach in mah nifty black drawers~

And of course, you deck out yer dawgs:

Emerson is sporting his football jacket; that's his sleeping bag, which we move into the tent at night. He has no clue he's a dog. Seriously doesn't.

No fly zone.

Lakeview from tent.

We have two rooms! Whoa.

See those three green tubs? We keep them all filled and ready to go. When you want to go glamping, you just pick them up, add some food and grab your ice chest!

My favorite part is sitting in the screen porch of the tent in the morning and sipping hot coffee with the tantalizing smell of sizzling bacon and eggs outside- lucious!

And is he not the most adorable husband you ever saw?

Answer: Yes, he's the most adorable husband we ever saw!

Now for the real story. I know what you're thinking, so let me start there. Why are there no pictures of Entrepreneur Chick?

Tony took one picture of me in the tent holding Eliot when I woke up in the morning with my eyelashes (extensions) all glumped together. No, you are not going to see that.

As for glamping, this was my last trip without one of these:

The first night I got almost zero sleep. Insomnia. Plus there was some creature from The Howling outside my tent- maybe a cross between Wolfman, The Deer Woman, a vampire and the Creature from the Black Lagoon. I debated for a long while how badly I really needed to uh..."get up".

Creature: Aaaaaaaah, oooooooooh!

Me: Oh dear Lord, what was that?!

Creature: Oooooh, AAARRRRR.

Me: On a scale of one to ten, I'd say I'm about at a four. If I fall asleep before I reach a six or a seven, I'll be okay.

Creature: You really think you're going to fall asleep with all this racket I'm making?

Me: Sleep. Sleep. You're getting sleeeeeepy....

Creature: That's not going to work.

Just when I started (finally) to fall asleep, Eliot, my Yorkie, started throwing himself around in my sleeping bag because he didn't want to wear his new coat I bought him anymore, but I didn't figure that out, until two and a half hours later.

Which brings us to six a.m. people. Aaah. Finally I can sleep!

THEN:

These would be the kids from the tent around the corner.

OKAY, I am UP! Is everybody happy now!?

Upon leaving, I asked our camping neighbor, Chad: "You want our tent?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing."

"How much?"

"Free."

This Has Nothing to do with Business BUT, mmmmm!

While it might not sound good, because people say that the ingredients don't seem to go together- like I'd know, but I promise every single one of the people writing about this recipe have been jazzed.

My thought is that I am going to make this on Christmas Eve- and then also, I want to make a relish tray; turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, sweet potato casserole, dinners rolls and a pumpkin pie!

Now, how to make my current ephemeral obsession:

Peppermint Eggnog Punch

Ingredients:

1 quart peppermint ice cream
1 quart eggnog
4 (12 fluid ounce) cans or bottles ginger ale, chilled
1 cup rum (If I put in more, is that going to ruin it? And it is herein that I start thinking, well, if some is good, MORE has got to be better- and then it all goes to hell.)
24 small peppermint candy canes for garnish

Directions:

Set aside for 2 or 3 round scoops of ice cream in the freezer for garnish. Stir remaining ice cream until softened. Gradually stir in eggnog and rum. Transfer to punch bowl (oooh, and I have a new purdy, purdy punch bowl!) and stir in ginger ale. Hang candy canes around the edge of the punchbowl. Float reserved ice cream scoops on tops, and serve immediately.

Come on, Christmas Eve! If any of you guys make this, let me know how you liked it. And if you add more rum, get frisky with your mother in law and get thrown in jail; that's really on you.

When I Don't Want Your Business

"In" and "on" are two small words, are they not? Tiny innocent enough prepositions. But let us be very, very clear. If you, as an entrepreneur, can't figure out the difference between the two, it's going to cost you dearly.

I work "on" my business. I do not work "in" my business.

If a client who's either needy, demanding, or arrogant enough to think they are going to make me work "in" my business, which is what I pay my employees very good money to do, is mistaken.

And before I go on and let this whole motha rip, let me clarify a few more points.

I do not blog to promote any of my businesses. All my clients are other businesses. Secondarily, I'm here writing about what an essence of an entrepreneur is, and guess what? Sometimes it's going to upset a client's apple cart. So, get ready to pick up a few Golden Delicious, boys and girls, because here I go:

What I will say to my client, who I truly do like and respect is: "The objectives of my company have changed, and while it has been a pleasure to serve you, I can not serve you again."

What the whole truth is, which I do not say because it's unprofessional and professionals don't stand there and open up their mouth and tell everything they know- "While I like you well enough, I do not like your staff AND furthermore, I should have charged you an easy five to seven grand more (seeing as how you business meeting-ed me to death and I wrote you a contract that had everything you needed, I got that the first time) and let's say even if I did charge you more, go ahead and triple it, go ahead and quadruple it, go ahead and... and I'd still don't want your business and I'm not playing with you, not even one little bit."

Want a real business advantage? A real, true, surefire advantage ain't nobody can take away from you?

DO NOT EVER BE GREEDY.

Sure, you name your price. You bet you do. But when something gets too full of bullshit, you walk away.

If you can't do that, you can't win. You can't win because you're going to let money and people control you.

YOU control you.

End of story.

Look Ma! An Award!

"Entrepreneur Chick, source of the brassy, witty, no-holds-barred blog of the same name." Is what Postman said about me.

And then he bestowed this award,

of which, I am truly touched and honored; but he didn't say anything about me giving him 20 bucks, so I figure it's legit.

Now Postman asks this:

 I must- tell you seven things you do not know about me.

1. I could drive my father's red tractor, just like the one on Green Acres, before I ever learned how to drive a car, but not before I rammed it into a big, hulking oak tree and it just kept climbing that massive base- up, up and up, and yet- I didn't die, as it would have easily flipped over; because I, in an utter panic, killed the motor just in time. (Yeah, don't do that.)

2. Was very shy. My second grade teacher told my mother: "I know she can talk only because I've heard her on the playground."

3. Accidentally killed my Easter goldfish by "petting" it with a pencil. (Yeah, don't do that either.)

4. Believed in Santa Claus until I was in the sixth grade. It began to be so embarrassing for my mother that she sat me down in the kitchen and said, "There's something I really need to tell you..." Well what else have you lied to me about?! Am I even your real daughter? How could you?

5. Am a little afraid of the dark. There's a blind spot in our home, that when I turn off the final lights at night, spooks me. So I run like a little kid all the way to bed and jump the last 3 or 4 feet until I'm safely inside my covers.

6. Am also terribly afraid my Yorkie, Eliot, might die before I do and then I will die. We have taken codependency to a whole new level.

7. Finally figured out how to make millions of dollars but am no more happy than when I left What's-His-Name (ooooh, FREEDOM) and had a one bedroom apartment with plastic lawn furniture, a blow up mattress, a borrowed pot to cook, a borrowed card table to eat, but the deluxe version of Talking Electronic Battleship, Clue, and Yahtzee. EFF Yah! Now that's living! And screw you because you said I couldn't "make it without you" and all that crap. Who's ya Momma now, beeee-otch?

Now for the seven awesome people I'd like to bestow this award:

1. Chloe: Fortune Cookies and Men.  Transparent, truthful, charming and always humorous.  If you'd like to think of her this way: the exact Chinese version of yours truly, that's fine by me! (Love ya, girl.) I believe she has a unique voice that will be heard on much bigger playing fields in the future.

2. Susan- The Pollinatrix: (But I can't because Postman already beat me to it.) Polly saves me from being the shallow, superficial, blond doofus butt that's become, at times, oh so comfortable.

2. Erin O'brien who's "manual for human beings" is a blow your socks off, great read. I mean, the way this woman thinks is outrageous, gives one pause, and is so creative it's stupid. But she does have a leg up, seeing as how she's a professional writer. You can sign up for her newsletter on her blog so you will never miss a post, because you won't want that to happen.

3. 1950's Atomic Ranch House I am completely enthralled by this blog. I could spend hour after hour just looking at her pictures. They calm me and make me happy. I don't really know why, but they do. There you go.

4. Places With Character~ brought to you by the lovely and always interesting, DUTA in Israel, no less. I think it's so cool how blogging expands one's world. She writes about places and things I'd never think about! (Plus, she's Jewish and I think that's awesome.)

5. Ramblings of the Bearded One: A professional photographer in Scotland, Kim is highly creative, extremely good at what he does, and an engaging read. Besides, I apprectiated the way he took the time to look at one of my businesses and give me some valuable, honest feedback, which probably saved me several thousands of dollars of useless investment.

6. Becky: Dream, Believe, Achieve- What I like best about Becky is that I never know what she's going to write about next, and she always cracks me up. She is also a fellow business owner; which I enjoy.

7. Scandalous Housewife: Retro, saucy, imaginative and pure fun! She's a girl after my own little flamboyant Texas heart.

For those of you who I bestow this award- you must do the same.

List seven things we do not know about you.

Pass the award on to seven blogs you enjoy.

Thank the original sender.

Notify the seven blogs to whom you passed the award.

And Andy, (Postman) I adore reading you- as you've the same qualities I hold dear- honesty, transparency, and a mighty damn good vocabulary; as I've always said, SO Capote of you!  Thank you too, for all your sweet comments here on E.C.; they are always appreciated-  xxooxo!

A Thanksgiving Death in the Family

Okay, so I'm a little dramatic. But "Chuckie", (thanks a hell of a lot, little kids that came over to my house a few years ago and thusly named you and I stared at you for several minutes when I'm all alone, supposing you would move at any given moment and grab a butcher knife out of my kitchen) passed away when I was gone on my camping trip.

A moment of Thanksgiving Decoration Silence please:

"Oh my gosh. What happened to him?"

"He developed a bad case of ghetto pants, sagging way below his underwear- and Emerson peed on his feet."

We had no recourse but to take him off Scarecrow Support, return him to his original box and put him in the... trash.

But do try and remember Chuckie in his better, younger, and happier days~ he'd want you to.

His last request was that we will all find it in our hearts to have a heartfelt toast to his long (2002) Happy Harvest life

with nothing but the best;

Penn. Dutch Egg Nog,

lest he died completely in vain.

Chuckie who?

Sex it Up~ Happy Thanksgiving!

Soooo, my hair conditioner says, "Sex it Up" something-or-other. I thought well, good grief, it's hair conditioner. It's really not a condom. But it seems to sell. I mean, I bought it.

In the spirit of TGI products everywhere and The 1950's Atomic Ranch House, who's blog I just adore:

Happy Thanksgiving

to all of you sexy babies out there!

(Honestly, I hope you have a wonderful holiday.)

And I have some great news to tell you about when:

(1) The overload of turkey and pumpkin pie has worn off. And thank you in advance, Postman!

(2) I'm back from "glamping". You know glamping? It's like camping only with glamour added, therefore, "glamping."

Yes, yes, I will take pictures for you.

I even have these silly eyelash extensions now, which is going to be just fabulous when I wake up and have to seperate my long plumes with a damn toothpick! That's attractive.

And it's essential you bring along a Dust Buster and you must put several rugs down in your tent; as the objective is to not let any dirt, or any nature, actually touch you at any time.

Ooooh, the great outdooors!

LOVES IT.

The Garage Sale Meter

While she returned them but didn't actually say, "You can have these little bishes back", it was definitley implied.

After all, why would my ex mother in law cherish the tiny Pilgrims I lovingly painted for her after I left her adoring son? (Insert tongue in cheek here.)

But it's about the "lovingly painted" part I want to address.

Though it's apparent they've seen better days- no shoes, no nose- I had a great time making those suckers!

And guess what? I'm think I'm going to make some more stuff like this~ even though I know the odds of it ending up in the proverbial garage sale are quite high.

At our house, when we go to buy an item, we ask:

What are the odds of this ending up in a garage sale?

Let's get the meter out and check.

If it's quite likely, we don't buy the item.

If we do purchase the item anyway, I still see to it that it gets used.

Like these:

I tell Emerson, "Look. These sunglasses that everyone knows that all dogs need nowadays were $19.99. I know you're going to put these on and be happy!"

"Do I look happy?"

"I don't care. That's almost 20 bucks, hound."

And a Big Time Was Had by All

That's what we call it in Texas. A big time. I knew on a ferry headed to Martha's Vineyard when my fellow travelers asked, "Did you have a big time in Boston?" that they certainly were from Texas too.

Here's what the big time looked like from the beginning; this is the staff installing the long catwalk for the fashion show.  From this:

To this:

Guests arrive~ Like my attorney #1, Chuck (and dear friend Jackie)

And my attorney #2, Chad, Chuck's son. (And wife, Julie.)

Because Chad is the eternal babyfaced boy, we like to tease and pretend we say to him, as if he was a three year old who's also hard of hearing:

"Now Chad, this is very IM POR TANT so you had better go get your Daddy."

Truth be told, you don't want to see either of these guys as opposing counsel.

Many of my friends, who I refer to as "The People Who Run Stuff", are elected officials like Bobbie Mitchell~

Ex mayor of the town I live in and now serves as County Commissioner.

LOVE her!

Many more guests were still arriving by this time but I decided a nice glass of chardonay and visiting with every body was more fun so, no more pics of guests arriving. M'bad.

The show begins!

That's my girl Kim, and Mark explaining the various charity donations that will be made this evening and the order of events; which are, fashion show, after party and casino!

Here they come!

A few of the models wore actual clothes, but I didn't want to bore you.

Okay, you got me. Actually, I've learned when selecting a new camera that perhaps one might need more infomation to go with instead of: "I'll take the pink one please."

My camera did not perform well in low lighting, additionally, when the models came to the end of the catwalk, my timing was off as I'd "click!" and then they'd turn and head back- so I have a lot of pictures of dim and fuzzy models with their back's turned.

So just imagine if you will, about 200 models all modeling- and there you have it!

Our fashion show dancers, ooooh, la la- aren't they gorgeous?

 

The casino opens!

A win!

The three girls are winning, but I know the forlorn guy on the right has already lost and is just hoping to get lucky with the blond dealer.

"Oh crap. It's a very bad night-" says the man in the striped shirt to himself.

And now he's crying.

The spirit of the evening was best captured by these two.

This is who I called, "Mr. Fun Guy" because he was an excellent dancer and he'd say during the after party, "Okay, it's time to model now!" And we'd all pile up on the catwalk and strut our stuff when he said we could go- because I told him, "You're in charge." Then he looks at the girls and I and says, "I'm in charge. Go!"

You know how you drink and just want to get up on the bar and dance sometimes? (You want that sometimes, right?) Well, we danced all night on the catwalk like this, whenever we felt like it.

This is my new girl, Kat- a class act all the way. I told her last week over martinis, you and me will dance to "American Woman" by Lenny Kravitz- and boy did we ever!

I adore this girl! Nichole (left). I don't know the other girl but I'm sure she's nice.

This is my general manager, Brandon, who's been with me for three years but likes to round up and say four. He also calls me "Momma", and loves to do so in crowded rooms to see me look up and say, "what?!" or picks up the microphone and says, "Momma, come here I need you", but knows me well enough to boss me around a little and demand, "Momma? I got this. Go sit down, you're making nervous."

Brandon is pictured with one of my favorite girls of the night. She was way fun.

See the party girl on the far right? That's actually my banker, Kenda. Every time I open a new account she takes me out to lunch at nicer places even than Jack in the Box.

But Kenda pulls me forcibly off the dance floor by my arm and tells me, "Marilisa, I need you to listen to me. This is IM POR TANT. See my friends over there? They are very, very wealthy. I need you to go talk to them."

"Gosh, Kenda. I can't right now. Kim's song (Boom Shak A Lak) is on and she can't do the dance moves to it without me!"

She's a great banker but sometimes her priorities are out of whack.

These are my awesome friends, Brandy (right) and Angie (left).

Angie made me laugh so hard because she knew every word complete with dance moves to the Miley Cyrus song, "And a Britney song was on, and a Britney song was on- so I put my hands up and was movin' my hips..." and performed them flawlessly on the dance floor.

It was truly wonderful to dance and laugh with my friends like that- at one point I had this moment of clarity, I guess you'd say, and I thought to myself,

how blessed am I? Look at this. This is my life. So lovely sometimes.

These poor white folks though. The dance floor is packed and they're all (trying) to do The Cupid Shuffle, and half are over here, half are over there.

"D.J., turn off the music!" I say.

No sound.

Everyone turns and looks at me, startled.

I take the mic and thus begin my discourse:

"Just what do you drunks think you're doing? First of all, everyone face me. Good. Now, everything I do, you do, okay?"

Parking on the dance floor. Come on now...

But I'm starving! (Too distracted to eat.)  This food was left unattended. I know it's horribly wrong to steal but- I snapped this shot of my last few bites!

To save the police trouble, can you spot who still has your cheese and is not letting go for dear life, in this line up?

Busted!

And just about that time, they all start doing this:

Would you look at that? Yeah, it's SO time to go~ it's 1:00 a.m.!

Babies.

But not for the girl after Entrepreneur Chick's own heart, the house lights are on but she's still dancing to "Hot Legs" by Rod Stewart.

All that was left behind was red and black boa droppings.

That, kids, is what you call a genuine, died in the wool, BIG TIME!