The White Trash Palette

Blogging is challenging because, not only do you have to write well, but you have to engage your audience.

I wrote this poem for my husband not too long ago. I, of course, thought it was HILARIOUS.  And then I asked myself, I said, “Myself, does anyone really care that my husband is worth his weight in saturated fats?” Probably not. But today is our 13th wedding anniversary. So this one’s for him. And if you like it, that’s cool too.

Oh, and don’t try to tell me I’m not romantic.

Some husbands got money,
Some husbands got talent,
I think I landed me the best,
When I got the White Trash Palette.

Don’t need no GPS for fast food chains,
He knows just where to go,
If he don’t know the locations,
He sniffs them out with his nose.

It’s like the golden gates of heaven part,
When we step inside,
Cause he’s the White Trash Palette,
And he does it deep fried.

He’s eaten more burgers,
Then the Earl of Sandwich,
Burger King is his servant,
Ronald McDonald is his bitch.

He’s hanging with Carls Jr.,
And he’s getting macho,
With Jack in The Box,
And upper management at Del Taco.

Don’t need to ask how to take my meals,
I know that he’s the boss,
He’s the connoisseur of french fries,
And he gots the special sauce.

And when it comes to lovin’,
We take that magic ride,
Cause he’s the White Trash Palette
And he does it deep fried.


Las Vegas, NV 4/28/2001


Napowrimo Entry #9

A Message To The Other Woman

I don’t think I can take it,
I really had enough,
You keep calling the house,
But when I answer you hang up.

My husband says you’re just a stupid kid,
And that you will stop soon,
But you never hang up on him,
Though sometimes he takes it in the other room.

I wonder if you’d just hold on,
For a great need has arisen,
And I have so much to say,
If you would only listen.

I’d tell you about my children,
They are healthy, they are happy,
And I would tell you how very much,
Those kids love their daddy.

I’d tell you how joyful we once were,
Such a perfect match,
And how everything will be better,
When we get over this rough patch.

I’d tell you how it feels,
To sit around and wait,
For him to come home,
When he says he’s working late.

I have faith in something bigger,
And I can still believe,
He wasn’t lying when he told me,
He would never leave.

I can tell you about the dreams we had,
And all the things we did,
But oh why would I tell you all that?
You’re just a stupid kid.


NaPoWriMo Entry #4

Frying Pans And A Knife

It was Emily Anne’s birthday you see
She was such a devoted wife
And though she dreamed of lovely lingerie
Her husband brought frying pans and a knife.

She looked at him in wonderment
And said “What am I to do with these things?”
“Make us a lovely dinner you will
And we will eat like kings.”

The next day Emily Anne slaved away
To make a delicious meal to eat
She admired the weight of the frying pans
The ease of the knife cutting meat.

And so her husband came home that night
To a meal prepared so grandly
And he asked her how she liked her new gifts
“Oh I think they will come in quite handy!”

He retired to the sitting room
Belly full and clear of mind
Never fully expecting fate
To creep up from behind.

The frying pan came down on his head
The cut to his throat so swift
Reminding all men to think carefully
When picking their wife a gift.


image credit:

They’ll Probably Kill Me (A Music Vlog Starring Moi)

A music vlog dedicated to all the women who feel like they have to be everything to everyone.

I ain’t gonna do the laundry so there
My husband will probably kill me
He won’t have no clean underwear
I know he’ll probably kill me

What do I care? Not a lot
I’ll just put on something hot
My husband will probably kill me today

I burnt the dinner again today
My kids will probably kill me
It was frozen pizza anyway
I know they’ll probably kill me

If they’re mad or if they’re hurt
I’ll just give them chocolate cake for dessert
I know they’ll probably kill me today

Wrote something dirty on Facebook today
My mom will probably kill me
I’m a big girl but anyway
I know she’ll probably kill me

I don’t know but I have a hunch
If I try to be nice and take her out to lunch
My mom will probably kill me anyway.

The Man Crush

What’s up with the man crush? First of all, let me say I am the least homophobic person on the planet, and indeed, I think the more liberal America has become, the more okay they are with the man crush. However, I am not okay with the man crush!!

When men crush, they crush hard. They wrestle each other, they exchange adorable witticisms, and to be sure, they act, well not really adorable at all.

Maybe I am just bitter and jealous of my husband’s current man crush. The two exchange witty banter on Facebook ad nauseam, and I am really tempted to add my comment, “Why don’t you guys just get a room already?”

When my son did his latest School of Rock performance, Man Crush came. He did not sit at our table but hovered by the bar sending drinks over to my husband. I guess he did not want our ‘fierce competitiveness’ to get in the way of his good time.

Of course my husband spent a good portion of the afternoon at the bar entertaining Man Crush. My daughter kept asking me, “Where’s daddy?’ to which I answered, ” At the bar making out with Brian.”

Today is Valentine’s Day. My husband posted a very nice comment to me on Facebook along with a YouTube link to a Paul Westerberg song. I thought this was all very nice and sweet, and commented in that vain,  but I did wonder, why Paul Westerberg? I don’t really like Paul Westerberg. Within minutes I say that Guy Crush commented on the post as well. ‘Paul Westerberg, awesome,’ he said. Ah, it is all becoming clear to me now!


Valentine’s Day Blows: Death to Cupid

Valentine’s Day sucks. At best it’s a holiday manufactured for the sole purpose of a couple meant to conspicuously exhibit their sickening, undying love for each other in such a way that deepens the pockets of jewelry stores and chocolatiers everywhere. At worst, you’re single.

There’s really no way around Valentine’s Day for one who is single. I mean, you could call your best FWB, but that might make him think that you’re actually into him, and one would not want that to happen. You could go to a club and try and pick up a random stranger. But again, the significance of the date will always somehow put weight on the hook up. Or you could go to one of those single’s mixers. But that just reeks of desperation.

Trust me, I know. Even though I have been married for quite some time, I have spent more than 50% of my Valentine’s Days as a single girl, and it is not pretty. That is why, to this day, I try to see Valentine’s Day for the miserable facade it is, rather than trying to be all googly eyed and mushy with my husband. (Although a great big box of chocolates it always completely acceptable, thank you).

Here is a poem I wrote for my husband last Valentine’s Day. Keep in mind that he is a huge death/black metal fan and this is meant to be a spoof on such. In fact, on the card it says, “to be sung to the tune of your favorite death metal song”.

Black angel soaring swooping low
Carrying his evil bow
Blackened wings, piercing dark
Training arrows at my heart
Demon creature taking aim
“Cupid,” speak thine enemy’s name
You will not threaten me tonight
Grab my weapon, I take flight
With my shield his darts deflect
Then I wring the cherub’s neck
And wrestle to Hell’s fiery floor
St. Valentine shall rise no more.

Happy Valentine’s Day to all you single people and just so you know, if I wasn’t married, I would definitely sleep with you on Valentine’s Day!