Friday, June 29, 2012

Words with Friends

Things have been settling down in the hood allowing Mrs. Tuna to spend a little more time with her wine drinking peeps. She forgets how they make her laugh so hard that peach sangria shoots out her nose. Sacrilege, I know.  But let’s delve a little deeper into her drunken posse’s quirks and idiosyncrasies shall we?

Miss Anonymous and I go way back, pre kids, pre Bebe.  Way more um…. open than me. It’s not like I’m a prude or anything but she can make me blush all the way down to my lady parts. Not an easy task considering how smutty I can be with my VinoSlut and Vagina Aisle posts.  She and the Big Tuna used to work together and many a fine work happy hour we spent drinking cheap beer and appetizers.  I did make her flinch one time when I showed up at her house with Sheldon in tow for a kiddie birthday party. A week early.  The look of panic at the thought of 15 little girls arriving in the next ten minutes is one I have yet been able to recreate. But I made it up to her by introducing her to the 12 year old in the Cold Dark Wine Cellar.

I met C3 at work where we hid in the bathroom, standing on the toilet seats, at Giant Engineering during the massive rounds of layoffs. Surely they wouldn’t find us in here. She recently treated herself to a long weekend in New York City for a milestone birthday. Upon her first day back at the slave market, the ex husband started frantically texting her wanting to know if she’d seen their teen son, he’d found a giant bag of pills, and couldn’t get the boy to pick up his phone.  Her mind racing that her normally good kid was lying unconscious in his bedroom, she sped frantically the 50 miles home, burst through the door with ex in tow. To find him playing ear shattering video games with his buddies.    As his father confronted him with the danger of drugs, swinging the offensive Ziploc, C3 felt a pang a familiarity. The dreaded bag, was marked with careful instructions, take 1 tablet with water before meals.  Her handwriting, vitamins she’d bought for the kid. What drug dealer writes instruction on their heroin sales? Let’s just say her heart rate is finally back to normal 3 weeks later.

Bebe, my bestie. My sister from another mister. Bebe went through a long phase of teaching senior citizens aerobic classes. Made her feel like she made a difference and a free workout for her.  But those frugal sliver sneakers always paid her in exact change, $3 a class.  This results in shopping expeditions where it feels like she’s paying in stripper money.  Shake it Bebe, shake it, make those tassels spin. Ahem.  With a birthday of 9-1-1, bizarre things always seem to be happening to her. Recently,  she and her freshly shaven man Bubba went to a small wedding reception.  Upon pulling a piece of toilet paper from a nick, he began to gush blood and refused to head in because he didn’t want people “to stare at him.”  After much pleading, he sulkily made the rounds, as they headed back to the car, he admitted that all in all he had a pretty good time.  She suggested that next time he didn’t want people to stare at him he should pull up his zipper.

A new friend. Pippa is adorable, tiny perky, witty. We want to hate her but are powerless to resist. Met her at Miss Anonymous’ 50th  birthday bash.  Started comparing dating tips. Told her the success is dating someone with whom you have nothing in common.  Her response, maybe she should date her Brother-Husband.  Snort, funny girl. I’m sure she will merit her own post in the very near future.

Since it’s all about us girls, I picked a recipe from a previous Ladies Potluck bash.

Hot Crabmeat Appetizer
8 ounces cream cheese
1 ½ cup crabmeat, flaked
2 tablespoons minced onion
2 tablespoons milk
½ teaspoon horseradish
1/3 cup sliced almonds

Mix all but almonds, spoon into 9” pie plate. Sprinkle with nuts. Bake at 375 degrees for 20 minutes.

Words, words, words. Was Team Tuna clever enough to realize that Wild, Intensity, Nurturing  and Elfin spelled WINE. 857 points for the Win!!!!!!

Sunday, June 17, 2012

What Not to Wear

I have an ugly little confession. Well I have a lot of little crazy thoughts, many of which for the sake of family harmony I say only in my head.  Don’t even get me going on story telling at my Sistah’s house at the Father’s Day barbeque today.  Filter people, filter. The future son in law is sitting RIGHT THERE, WE ARE STILL IN THE HONEYMOON PHASE WITH HIM. Ahem.  My dirty little secret? I have a What Not to Wear photo album on my personal Facebook with several hundred special  Kodak moments.

I take random snapshots at all the best places like Costco and the Tempe Art Festival. It started so innocently. Hey, look at that guy wearing high tops with a leotard. Oh wait, the lady with the two tone mullet at Trader Joes.  I often took Sheldon with me as a decoy to “fake take” her picture and get the real object of my desire in digital history.  She will no longer play this little game with me, making it more awkward to be stealth. But Awkward is my middle name.

I had a few of my own uncomfortable clothing issues in my lifetime. This is not to be confused with the time I had my skirt tucked into mypantyhose and didn’t realize it until I was in the mirrored elevator on the 31st floor.   Since I’m a little liquored up/scarred from today’s lunch, this week we’ll do Peach Sangria.

Peach Sangria
One bottle White Wine Spritzer (Love Pomula Wine)
3 ounces Peach Vodka
5 ounces Peach Schnapps
2 Tablespoons Triple Sec
1 Orange sliced
2 cups strawberry sliced  

Mix alcohol together in a pitcher and add sliced fruit. Serve over ice. It goes to pretty damn easy so be careful peeps.

My addiction has gotten so bad that some of my friends like CT and Miss Anonymous feed my crack habit by emailing me their random finds. Thank you ladies!  Rather than fill today’s post with lots of silly words, I will let a small sampling of my subject matter captivate you.  If you desire to have a peek at a larger sampling, go here to Mrs. Tuna’s Facebook page  and view the Photo Album. While you’re there freaking  Like Mrs. Tuna.  This is only a teeny tiny glimpse into her personal ummm….art collection.  Good week Team Tuna!

Step away from the crochet hook and back away.....


Please note Sheldon trying to exit stage right.

 Well it certainly wants me to get MY sexy back.

My cup runs over. 

Friday, June 8, 2012

50 Shades of Beige

All this wedding planning for Sheldon is bringing self-reflection of three decades with the Big Tuna.  That’s a long ass time to spend with anyone. Ms. Anonymous gave me 50 Shades of Grey for a birthday gift. She also gave me a professional cordless ah…….wine opener. Get your filthy minds out of the gutter, this blog is supposed to be rated PG. Okay, maybe not.  Essentially, its sex text for those frustrated mommies who have a secret S & M desire.

The young married Tunas (note we are waiting for the Polaroids to dry)

But truth be told, my advice to Sheldon is that it’s not always about unicorns and farting rainbows.  It’s about the little things that make or break you.  And having absolutely nothing in common. That’s right you heard me.  Essentially, we have our own friends and hobbies and just meet up for our conjugal visits. Unless of course you are Sheldon reading this post, and then Mommy and Daddy are just watching Sportscenter and playing Scrabble in the evenings.  So let’s discuss our differences shall we.

The Big Tuna likes steak and potatoes, tapping into the mighty hunter role. He never even ate broccoli until he met me. He shudders at the thought of avocados.  I was seriously a faux vegetarian when we met, I didn’t do cow.  He also rejects all cheese except for mozzarella. I mean, what civilized person doesn’t have a daily affair with cheddar?

And don’t get me started on NASCAR racing.  All those counterclockwise circles just make me dizzy, I had to take Dramamine when we went to Disneyland for Pete’s sake. Stop trying to tell me that Jeff Gordon, all 5’-2” of him, is a real athlete. I might however, give you that Tony Stewart is yummy, I mean interesting to watch. Big Tuna is always a much more assertive driver during race season. I call it reckless driving and tailgating, he calls it drafting.

Let’s end with the big one. He doesn’t like wine. Blasphemy I know. I mean I’m so high class with my ice cubes but seriously, how could you not like vino. He drinks, yuck, Gatorade and Diet Pepsi.  This week’s recipe is something sweet for my sweetie.

Split Second Cookies
2 cups flour
2/3 cup sugar
½ teaspoon baking powder
¾ cup butter softened
1 egg
2 teaspoons of vanilla
Your favorite jam or jelly, try strawberry or raspberry.

Sift together dry ingredients. Blend in remaining items except jam and place on ungreased cookie sheet. Divide into 4 parts, shape each into role, 12” long, ¾” think. Make a depression ¼ to 1/3 inch deep, lengthwise down center with the back of a knife. Fill with jam. Bake at 350 degrees for 15 to 20 minutes. After it cools slightly, slice into 1 inch pieces.

But, he has a heart of gold. Stopping for ladies with flat tires on the freeways and lost puppies. He even got a little misty thinking about walking Sheldon down the aisle next winter.  Watching TV in bed last week, an online dating commercial came on, he snuggled up and said, “if I die first I want you to sign up for so you can be happy.” I don’t even know where to go with that. I’m not wishing anything bad to happen, but do you think Curtis Stone will still be available?

PS-I only need three more followers to reach the magic 500. You all remember when we had a free wine giveaway at 400. So if you read this blog and don’t follow, GET ON IT!  I need validation. Good week Team Tuna!