Out With The Old

It's that time... New Year's Resolutions. I'm not going to get all crazy. Just a few simple, attainable goals. 

Out with:

• AssClowns
• ManGroomers™
• RMFFs™
• Drinking Coke (I mean it this time)
• Eating out all the time

In With:

• Loving what I do for work
• Buying food and cooking it
• Walking Daisy TWICE a day
• A New Hair Dresser
• Trusting my Gut

Let's take about coke. Coca-Cola®. The Real Thing. On Christmas day I went with my sister to visit my niece and nephews.  We got a room at the Sheraton Four Points (I was able to bring Daisy--yes, I AM that person). My sister brought along a 12 pack of coke. She filled the ice bucket and put the 12 pack of coke on the top shelf in the armoire. My niece came over after the boys went to sleep. We were enjoying some vino. I needed to take Daisy out. I opened the armoire to grab a bag. I was assaulted  by coke cans. First, one to the right temple, then the left cheek. At first I thought I was being shot. I dropped to the floor. I kept getting hit. One to the shoulder. Cans bounced on the tile floor as coke exploded everywhere. I saw black. My niece Jackie said I muttered, "What is happening to me?" and then I realized my sister had pulled the flap off the front of the 12 pack. I then said, "Don't ever do this again." I ran towards the other side of the room as Jackie was bent over almost peeing herself as she laughed. My sister was horrified. It was so funny that I couldn't yell at her. We assessed the damage. Coke was all over the closest bed in weird bubbles. The mirror was covered as was the tile in the entryway. We grabbed towels and started cleaning. My sister and niece told me to take Daisy out while they cleaned. When I got back my niece took me over to the bed and instructed me to watch. She said in a weird Russian accent, "Co-Cola, no Co-Cola" as she wiped the beaded up bubbles of Coke. That duvet cover was made of Kryptonite. My sister googled the duvet cover on the hotel website. (You can buy one for $260 if interested...and it's 100% polyester, not Kryptonite). Let's get back to the Co-Cola. Do you know that shit ETCHED the mirror? This was a brand new hotel. It was on the mirror for only a few minutes. Think what that shit does to your teeth and gut. I think every school age kid should have to our Coke on a mirror and she what happens.

You know when you're in a hotel and you're staring at the ceiling and you see one lone brown spot? If you are like me you say, "how in the hell did that get up there?" Now you know.

Cock-a-Doodle

I had a work meeting down in Bonita Springs last weekend. Sulie and niece Jackie came down to stay at the sassy hotel. After the meeting, we went out by the pool. It was the kind of place where a lovely lady brings $8 Mojitos right to you in your lounge chair. Jackie was all over me about men and dating. Questions, questions--why haven't I been going out? Have I given anyone a GreenlightCard? She started to pick out guys and ask me if I would, ya know, do it with them? Okay...

A) This is my niece asking me this (She is 34, but still)

B) Oh my GOD! Have I lost it?

She asked if I had always been shy about guys. I said no--I used to be pretty confident. I got the poolside, Mojito fueled analyzation.

• Was it John? No
• Was it the whole match.com/guys are fucking freaks thing? Nah.
• Trust issues? No, lawd knows I have spent enough time at the shrinkola for that.
• Tired? Maybe.
• Rather just stay home? Yep, getting warmer.

As Jackie dug deeper, she got more animated. She asked me what I was afraid of? I told her I wasn't 25 anymore and I didn't just smile and flirt and get a guy. I told her that I thought once I married John I was done with the whole dating thing. Another round of Mojitos arrived as Jackie pummeled me with questions. She told me she felt like if I really wanted a little "Cock-a-Doodle", that I could get it. I believe I inhaled my sip of Mojito and it ended up in my right lower lung at that point. I had changed her diapers and she is talking to me about cock?

All I could envision was something like this...

Shatna

Okay, before you think I'm being foul, let me clarify: Shatna as in William Shatna.

My niece turned us (me and Sulie) on to Priceline®. She is 10 years younger than me. Her Mom is my Dad's daughter from his first marriage. It gets even more complicated because my niece's kids are my great nephews. Way to make me feel ancient. What shall I call her...hmmm, my niece shall be Jackie (as in Jackie O.). She is really beautiful and she likes to call the hotel operator and use a really articulate classy voice when asking for a wine opener at 3 in the morning. Back to Priceline®--have you ever used it? It rocks! We have it down to a science in Sarasota. The key is to know your star ratings. For example, in downtown Sarasota there is only one 4 star hotel. You bid crazy low prices for the area and star rating and eventually you wear them down. I love the anticipation after I enter $55 and I wait as the site tells me it is "negotiating". Let me describe the sensation--I hit $55 and I sit back. My hands sweat, my heart races. I whisper "do me right Shatna." It has now become the act of "Shatnaing".  Shatna is a noun and a verb. Shatna will sometimes play games and tell you "no". You just sign out and do it again the next day. The bell hops know us. The yellow Mini drives up with the cooler on wheels. They don't ask if they need a cart. They see the Mini and they just know. Last time Tommy Long Socks (bellhop that wears really bad black knee high socks and shorts) said, "Back again ladies?" We take a cab to dinner (safety first when Shatnaing). After dinner we usually stay up trading stories of family dysfunction (all from a place of love). Sulie tries to keep up, but eventually the Riesling gets the best of her. The next morning she usually has cloudy stories of waking up for a moment and seeing me dancing or Jackie changing the words to a song on my ipod. We have decided to Shatna at least once a quarter. I strongly suggest it to everyone. It is a way to get away even if it is not that far away. Tell them Penelope sent you.

If Jackie was a cartoon she would look like this: