Please Santa! Bring me a doll without a penis!

I feel the need to write again bubbling up inside me like a hot holiday fruit crisp. And a coat spinning in the dryer is keeping me awake anyway…

Yesterday, I made the trek out to Target. On the way, I prepared myself for battle. So thankful I found a parking space…I kept saying to myself, “If you are a smart lady you will turn back now!” But for the sake of my daughter’s toy filled Christmas, I kept pressing. Fearful of what I might find inside I continued to grab a cart. I imagined people fighting over the last Thomas the Train toy engine. “A grandma of four roundhouses an expectant mom for the last Little People princess castle!” Will that mom be me? Seal team six Christmas toy mission begins!

Hundreds of people scurry through Target to find toys and other useless CRAP for their loved ones. (I especially love all the dollar stuff right by the door. It’s stuff no one needs. No one is going to squeal with glee they got frosted animal crackers or a pen with five colors of ink! But, I still must dig!)

I think, “what does my two year old really want this year?” I have no idea! Getting inside the mind of a two year old for me is like trying to build a jet engine with toothpicks. I have a sudden flash back to my childhood holidays. I think of toys I loved and toys I HATED. One toy I hated the most!

I must have been ten or so when grandma gifted me one of those QVC “life like” newborn baby dolls. Some little girls love baby dolls! Maybe most little girls love dolls and dream about being little mommies. Not me. I guess I’ve always been a weirdo in the baby doll department. But, this particular baby doll didn’t help my lack luster for dolls! It was a male infant doll with an anatomically correct pissing penis. How is a ten year old girl supposed to relate or feel comfortable with a penis? I had no idea what those parts even looked like before that moment! “And it really wets! Just like a real baby!” Oh goody, I’m ten and I suddenly have a newborn to care for, and it really pees. Oh yum! Baby pee. My anxiety for babies went through the roof! It’s no wonder I’m just now having kids into my thirties!

Dodging the holiday crowd through the store, I finally reach the toy section. Thinking of my unlucky Christmas past and out of desperation I wonder, “Okay, what toy isn’t going to fuck up my kid into her thirties?” And then I see it! It was like a soft glow of pink light. Barbie!

Every little girl loves Barbie! Or is she symbolic for future body dysmorphic disorder, lipo, and breast implants? Barbie is also very young to be going on dates with Ken! And I don’t approve! But If I don’t break my daughter of Thomas the Train will she become a lesbian train conductor? Holiday shopping is so stressful!

I decided on a couple of Barbies. I did say no to Ken. I’m not ready to introduce my daughter to Ken. When it’s the right time she can have a Ken doll. At least Ken doesn’t have defined male “junk” that I will somehow have to explain to my daughter at an age WAY too early. Thanks Ken for being a gentleman and keeping your privates in an vague flesh colored bulge unlike weird urinating baby!

Maybe I’m just more comfortable with a world of pink, fast cars, mansions, and endless accessories. After all, Barbie isn’t the “bubble headed” blonde she was in the 1980’s. She is now a doctor, a veterinarian, and even an astronaut! I still had to rummage through a pile of “skank” night club Barbies to find the educated ones. I landed on Barbie “the artist.” She has a neatly groomed pompadour ponytail and comes with a cute apron and a palate of color. Surely she’s a university art major! She’s very cute. But, please Ava no smoking in late night coffee shops sipping lattes with bearded and tattooed boys. Mommy’s heart can’t take it! Lol



Best Christmas gifts list of all time ever.

Happy Holidays! I hope all of your Christmas dreams come true and you get one of these this year…

That’s right folks it’s a Twinkie maker! And you thought there was nothing more useless than the waffle iron you got last year! In case there is ever a shit storm and Hostess goes out of business you can make your own Twinkies! Oh wait….that happened.

(This is where I’m breaking one of my rules. I vowed to never blog about my family! But when Hostess met its recent doom and gloom my sister as a special treat to her one year old niece, bought a box of the newly expired company’s Twinkies. She thought since these Twinkies were the last on planet earth and never to return they were the ultimate gift! After all, how can you grow up in a world without Twinkies? They never expire anyway! Which leads me to tell you that upon finding the gifted Twinkie in its special place a year later I noticed it HAD been expired by eleven years! Still perfectly preserved in the package, I examined it. No mold…no signs of decay. I immediately called my sister.

Yes! She had eaten one! Mourning the last Twinkies on the globe my sister and her husband, not noticing the date, toasted Twinkies and gobbled every hydrogenated speck! Ha!!!!! You don’t believe me? Curious what an eleven year old Twinkie looks like? Here it is…

Intact and totally mummified there is the Twinkie.

It is pretty awesome how our whole country freaked when hostess took a tumble. All the fatties…(Oh sorry! I mean disabled people), rushed their motorized wheelchairs in packs like Harley’s riders through Wal-mart to get the last of the goods. Isn’t it interesting that the same group can’t make it to work or walk from a parking space a little further, but ice, snow, and apocalyptic hellfire aren’t going to keep them from getting a Hostess Ding dong? Well, I feel the same way!)

Wow! What a side story!

Other gifts on my crap list include but are not limited to…socks, underwear, and key chains. Also, if you are giving away anything with your company’s logo you are a cheap ass…unless you own Apple. Your loved ones will enjoy any thing with a clown on it. Also, here are a few more Christmas gift treasures…

Popular when I was a kid, somehow these “chia guys” are STILL around. And if you get me one of these I will take it back for the five bucks of CVS store credit.

This may be the best gift of all time. “Hey it’s Antarctica out here, but I still need my damn cigarette!” (I’m picking on everyone today.)

Every toddler needs one of these! “Start em off right!” The only thing better would be a “Little Tikes carnival worker kit.” It would include a rusted marijuana pipe and some prophylactic penicillin.

This year lets just do what we did last year. Let’s talk of going on that winter wonderland trip to Aspen. But, let’s just trade Starbucks gift cards instead!

Probed in Oklahoma City, Part Deux

Maybe if I lived in a more metro area things would be more accessible to me. For instance all the good groupons are in Dallas. They get deals on full sets of eyelashes and fancy frozen yogurts. OKC gets discounts for laser toenail fungus removal and tattooed eye makeup. I still need to find my basics around town…a new dentist, hair stylist, nail place, etc. And so my search in a new city for an obstetrician continues.

“Excuse me…Hi I’m here to check in for Dr…” I’m interrupted. “Ma’am! Fill this out ma’am.” She slides a little piece of paper just larger than a post-it across the counter. It says Name, Doctor, and reason for visit. Hmm. Well I was about to tell you this information with my WORDS but okay. I guess I will fill out this form instead. I fill out the tiny paper and slide it back. She examines it. “Are you a new patient?” she asked. I think to myself, “Oh so NOW you want to talk?” I kindly reply, “why yes I am…as circled on your little paper.” Only in the healthcare industry are people treated so rude. Greeting people and smiling are obsolete. I swear there is more customer service buying a sweater at the Gap! She hands me a Sears catalog of forms to complete.

I wait an hour.

Finally my name gets called, a version of my name anyway. I think she said, “Hally” but, whatever. (I mean have you ever met a Hally? This is not a usual name. Ok, I’m over it.) Ok…yeah, I’m Hally….sure. Let’s get this over with and meet the new OB who will potentially deliver my baby. I pray he’s not a weirdo. I strongly hope he’s in the prime of his practice and not a thousand years old. And I cross my fingers he can show signs of a competent practice.

She calls another patient back as she calls me. Oddly, we walk together. The other patient is seriously right behind me. I can’t make this shit up. Next, the nurse asks me to step on the scale right in front of the other patient! At this point I think, “Am I on a game show? This has to be a joke! Right?” I would be frantically pulling all removable items from my body at this point. Shoes, jewelry, and my purse all must go! This is the part when I usually spit in the trash a few times to lighten my load. (Hey! Every little bit counts.) But, I was so distracted by pregnant patient number two on my tail I leaped on the scale. Whew! Great, that’s over! Hope they won’t examine my cervix in front of patient number two as well!

I was given a room and waited for the doctor. Apprehensive and a bit sad, I yearned to see my super smart and vivacious OB’s face from my previous town pop his head through the door. Beside me I stared at the pathetic ultrasound equipment from the seventies encrusted with old ultrasound boogers. There was nothing. I waited.

A few more minutes went by and I see a friendly smile missing a tooth. She introduces herself as Betty. Very proudly she shared that she has been working with Dr. X for 23 years and she starts to doppler my pelvis. She moves my abdominal fat around searching for a fetal heart beat for a few minutes. Not impressed I longed to finish the appointment. Success! I hear a “swoosh swoosh swoosh” sound. Okay Betty, you’ve done your amazing feat for the day. Reward yourself with a new dental prosthesis.

Next the doctor finally comes. I liked the doctor. But, he kept referring to me as, “advanced maternal age” I guess because I’m pushing 35. I was like, Hey guy! I have a name. And it’s not “advanced maternal age” and it’s not fucking “Hally” either! Even so, I got the impression he’s done a few thousand C-sections which makes him a candidate for the job. He’s nice enough. He’s smart enough. Ding ding ding!! You’re my doctor. I don’t like you as much as my previous OB, but I’m ready and willing to settle.

Happy holidays everyone! I want to share this ridiculously good cheese ball recipe with you. You can be a big holiday fatty and do the full lard version. Or you can do reduced fat cream cheese and cheddar. I swear both versions are outstanding. Either way, my brother- in law will attest that this is bar none the best cheese ball of all time! God bless him! He made me feel like Martha Stewart!


-Cream cheese x 1 bar
-Finely shredded cheddar x1 small bag
-3/4 cup chopped jalapeños
-Green onions x 1 bundle chopped
(about 7 stalks)
*mix these ingredients, form into ball.
*Roll in chopped pecans.
*Right before serving cover with hot pepper jelly.
Any sweet hot pepper jelly will be great. I like Razbanero hot pepper jelly. If you live in Tulsa it’s at your local Reasors. If you live in Oklahoma City you can’t find it anywhere! Sorry.

You can serve with any cracker. Wheat thins are great, but my favs are Stacy’s pita chips. If you serve this you will be the belle of the ball! 😊