The Big Wicked Online Pageant

Because I’m feeling Halloweeny (lucky Halloweeny! *ba dum tish*), today I’m taking part in Beckeye’s Big Wicked Online Pageant, which, as I choose to understand it, is kinda like a costume contest AND a time machine all globbed deliciously together in a Phish Food Ice Cream-esque way.

(Mmmmmmm…. ice cream-esque….)

Beckeye’s rules say I’m supposed to show off a photo of a costume from a Halloween past and post it here today—and then if I am truly a rock star and some people vote for me and stuff, I might win (*fingers crossed*) an actual prize!

SWEEEEEEEEEEEET!!

[If you too want to participate or vote for me (*batting eyelashes*) or if you just wanna read the non-Coraified version of the rules, you can do so HERE AT THIS LINK.]

Okay, so I couldn’t make up my mind on which picture to post. So, I’m giving you two. (Two.) (Two costumes in one.)

Hmm?

What?

Cheating?

No, no, no—I’m not cheating! Really! I’m just indecisive! I mean, asking me to pick just ONE picture is like asking me to eat just ONE Hershey’s Kiss! It just ain’t gonna happen, people, ‘kay?!

Seriously.

So, shhhhhhh, don’t tell anyone I posted two pictures. That’ll be our little secret, just you and me. And when you go over to Beckeye’s blog to vote for me (hint, hint) just erase from your mind whichever picture of mine you like least and only remember the one you like most, okidoki? Cool.

So, here we go.

My first picture is from Halloween 1982. I was ten and my mom made this costume for me because I begged her alllllllllllllllll Summer lonnnnngggggg for it….


Yeah. I was Ms. Pac-Man. And your point is….?

My second picture is from Halloween 2006. I was—uhhh—30-something-ish and, inheriting my mom’s talent for making ridiculous costumes by hand, I made it myself….


I called it “A Safari Gone Bad”. Basically, I was wearing a safari shirt and hat, I was inside a huge cooking pot I made out of felt which was being held into the air by a monkey. My legs were actually inside the monkey’s legs, so when I walked around it appeared the monkey was the one walking and carrying me around in a cooking pot. Not too shabby, eh? ;-)

Okay, so that’s it. Please visit Beckeye’s blog at the link above, check out the other bloggers participating, and then vote your Halloween-lovin’ guts out!

Go! Go! GO!!!!

© Coracabana

Because You Gotta Have Priorities

So, my mom will be flying into town tomorrow to spend four days with me, Scope and Gwen. Isn’t that nice?

*curling into a ball on the floor*

This will be her first trip to Chicago and her first time seeing our new home. Isn’t that wonderful?

Scope and I have been feverishly and furiously trying to get the condo ready (aka cleaning and decorating) before she gets here…. in *glancing nervously at the clock and shuddering* just over 24 hours from now. Isn’t that peachy?

*pounding my fists on the floor, wailing, “why? WHY? WHHHYYYYY?????” and totally ticking off the neighbors…. again*

And, yet, with all the numerous chores still splattered all over my to-do list, I can’t seem to tear my sorry, slackerized self away from picnik.com, where I keep horrifically Halloweenifying perfectly innocent family portraits.

Like this.


And this.


Mom will totally understand when she gets here and her bed sheets aren’t clean yet…. r-r-right?

© Coracabana

Step 1: See My Posterior. Step 2: Kiss It.

So, Scope and I have these neighbors who live one floor below us and I’m pretty certain they are the loony, snot-nosed descendants of Mr. Heckles from Friends. They are snooty, uberpicky and chronically unhappy about random everyday totally normal noises emanating from our condo.

And their constant complaining is SOOOOOOOOOOOO annoying.

*gnashing my teeth*

I’ve met them once. ONCE. When we were struggling to stuff a mammoth glass display case into the elevator on Moving Day. They walked into the lobby, stared at us, rolled their eyes and then took the stairs up.

Nice.

Very nice.

No introductions. No ‘hey, welcome to the building!’ sentiments. No flipping offer to flipping help us with that flipping, flipping heavy display case, the flipping flippers!!!! Nothing but snottiness. And it hasn’t gotten any better from there.

Nope.

They email us now. Oh joy. They email us to lecture and whine and cry and throw hissy fits about what awful neighbors we are because they can *gasp* hear us when we are home.

Yep.

We’re not talking complaints about excessive or ridiculous noises here. No, no, no. It’s not like Scope and I are screaming at each other, having bowling tournaments in our hallway, yodeling “Welcome to the Jungle” or having Richard Simmons and Gilbert Gottfried over for dinner. Nope. We’re talking complaints about average, normal, everyday life noises here. Noises everyone else in this building has the privilege of making without getting hate mail from their neighbors.

Gah!

Last night they sent us ANOTHER rude email. Our horrific crime this time? They heard us walking across our dining room floor.

Yeah.

Walking.

Across the dining room.

Ooh.

Tragic.

Are you kidding me???? Who on Earth emails someone to complain about stuff like THAT???? Who????

That is completely ridiculous, of course. Completely. Ridiculous. When did walking across one’s own dining room become offensive? Hmm? What are we supposed to do, scoot around the house with pillows on our rears until we effectively learn how to levitate from room to room to avoid irritating the Heckles Herd (which is what I am hereby nicknaming them since they’ve never bothered to even tell me their real names: Adolph and Cruella Heckles. Heh heh heh)?

Needless to say last night’s email was the last straw. Scope is boiling mad now (and Scope NEVER gets mad, people!!) and is brewing up a scalding, blistering reply email as we speak.

(Give ‘em hell, Hubba Hubba Hubby!!!!)

As for me, I tend to fight like a girl. Sneakily. Sooo.... the next time I cross our dining room floor, I fully intend to do it while tap dancing in a bikini made of cow bells while banging pots and pans together and yelling "AYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYIYI!!" like Xena.

So there!

© Coracabana

How I Like My Hos, Yo

So, I’m sitting here eating dollar store knockoff Ho-Hos.

(Or Faux Hos, if you will.)

(*snicker*)

And I’m thinking these suckers are pretty darn good for a dollar.

Yep.

*awkward silence*

And that’s all the wisdom I have for you today.

Sorry.

© Coracabana

And Now For An Actual Conversation With My 13 Year Old Daughter

[Yeah, I know I already told this tale over on Facebook, but it still slays me, so I figure it’s worth repeating here. :-) ]


I was walking my daughter, Gwen, to school the other morning when off in the distance I saw a white stone figure in a neighbor's yard and I thought it was a Halloween skeleton. Cool! I pointed it out to Gwen, but as we got closer I realized it wasn't a skeleton after all.

"Oh, wait, never mind—it’s just Jesus," I said.

Maybe I need new glasses or something, I dunno, because it turned out it wasn’t Jesus either….

Nope.

It was a donkey.

And Gwen said, "Mom! Did you just call Jesus an ASS?!"

*sigh*

Christ. I doubt I'll be living this down any time soon.

© Coracabana