People watching...

I spent the last weekend in Atlantic City, NJ. Voluntarily.

See, the Step-gator has her own business, and there was some sort of Expo at the AC Convention Center, and she wanted to go...but she is a nervous driver. She didn't want to go alone, and Dad didn't want to go with her, so she lured me in with promises of a massage at the Red Door Spa and a weekend with no kids.

I am a sucker for these things, so we headed out on Friday. plus, it's nice to just get away and have some mommy time. It is nice to hang out with my mom and be able to talk, joke, laugh and otherwise just be together on an adventure.

The show itself as actually kind of fun (and the vendors gave out a ton of free swag). The buffet food was acceptable, the mojitos were cheap, potent and tasty and the room was nice..

The people watching was the best part, though. Oh. My. Lord. I saw things that made me pray for the meteors to strike the Earth as soon as possible.

• There was a lot of mutton trussed as lamb. If you're over 50, spandex push-up bustiers and micro-miniskirts are not your friend. I don't care how many lifts, nips, tucks, fat vacuumings or botox injections you've had, you are still going to look like the Crypt-Keeper in drag.
• Some maxi-dresses are exactly that. If the label (tastefully sticking out of the back of the dress) reads "Omar's House of Circus Tents," don't wear it.
• Strapless dressed should not be worn with bras that DO have straps.
• If you're over an A-cup, elastic-bandeau dresses are Not For You. especially if you're drunk enough to step on the leading edge of the dress and pull the front down to your waist. Those were not pink-nosed puppies we saw, they were goddamned pitbulls -- who had obviously been used for dog-fighting.
• Five-inch heels and cheap alcohol do not mix. All that expensive dental work doesn't stand a chance when you're drunk and trying to walk in your stripper shoes.
• Gentlemen: skinny jeans look fucking ridiculous. If I can tell whether you dress left or dress right, and as a bonus, can tell if you're a turtle-neck or crew-neck dude below the waist, that's nauseating. If you can['t out your wallet in your pocket, or sit down without causing your dangly bits to be forced back up into your abdominal cavity, your jeans are too tight!
• There IS such a thing as too much cologne. I was not winking and hyperventilating due to your overwhelming hotness -- my eyes were watering and I was having an asthma attack.
• No white guy in the world has ever or will ever look good in cornrows.
• No one wants to see your scrawny pigeon chest, so button up your shirt, Lothario.

The humanity on parade was enough to fuel several dozen Bosch paintings.

It was a wonderful incentive to diet, though!

Burning Ring of Fire

I am a horrible, mean-spirited, evil wench who delights in the suffering of others -- particularly when it is funny as Hell.

Like, say....someone getting a crotchful of jellyfish sting.

Oh, yeah, baby.  Try keeping a straight face and a mellow disposition when someone tells you a story like that. I guarantee you will pop a hernia trying to stifle the from-your-toes belly guffaws that desperately want to erupt.

So, late last summer, the in-laws took their annual month long boating vacation, and toodled on down the Chesapeake until they hit the salt line.  They pulled into hole-in-the-wall marinas, ate crabs, and generally enjoyed being in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to do and no schedule to keep. (As an aside, that sounds great to me, as well -- though minus the boat action. I fucking hate boats.)

On the last day of their sail south, they tossed out the anchor and went for a swim. Unfortunately, there were jellyfish. Lots and lots of jellyfish.

As my MIL was climbing the boat ladder -- an awkward procedure involving hiking your legs up on to the bottom rung while allowing your ass to dangle freely in the water -- she looked between her legs to see, drifting ominously close to her personal regions....a jellyfish.

She panicked and tried to climb faster, but was a bit ungainly and couldn't hoist herself up fast enough as the jellyfish drifted, as git gently puffed by the hand of God Himself, right into her nethers.

The carnage was impressive. Just take a moment to consider all the things you do that involve your sit-upon area, every single day. The area was swollen enough to make pants painful to wear, personal cleansing after potty to be downright tortuous and sitting, walking, standing -- basically anything that cause friction in the groin area -- to be intolerable.

DO you know how sore my whole body was, trying to suppress the hilarity when I heard the story?
DO you think I did so successfully?

Hell, no. I did not. I still laugh until I cry every time I think about it.