My Coat of Many Cookies

A long time ago, in a marriage far, far away, my mother-in-law gifted me a black London Fog trench coat. It did not come with three raccoons pretending to be a person, but it was still really nice.

You can get this awesome pin
from strikegently.co, and honestly
you should. (Not a paid endorsement.)

I don't know exactly how long I've had this coat. Twenty years, at least. Possibly 25. I don't remember if I got it before or after Precocious Daughter was born. 

(As an aside: PDaughter turns 25 today. I've made the conscious decision not to devote an entire post to it, mostly because she's a whole-ass adult and entitled to more privacy than I afforded her when she was under my roof and easy blog fodder. Suffice to say she was a sassy 10-year-old when I first introduced her here, and now she's halfway through her 20s. Yes, I feel old, thanks for asking.)

Anyway, if you've ever owned a London Fog trench coat, you know that they last forever. They're well-made, well-wearing, and don't ever go out of style. 

Exhibit A.

What they can't do, however, is physically increase in size as their owner, well, gets older and fatter. My trench coat, which was a bit large on me when I first got it, no longer closes comfortably over my various middle-aged body parts. And so, several months ago I embarked on a search to replace my beloved trench.

I had two criteria for a new coat - just two: It had to have a hood, and it had to have a removable liner. And I guess there was an unspoken third criterion: It couldn't cost the equivalent of a car payment. I don't have a car payment right now, and I'm not about to spend that kind of money on something that doesn't even have cupholders.

This has been a surprisingly difficult quest. It's taken months. I just couldn't find a trench coat that met my (I thought) pretty basic requirements. I was reminded of an old Sesame Street skit where a lady is shopping for a blue furry coat. First the salesperson shows her a coat that's furry but not blue, then one that's blue but not furry. Just as she's about to give up, along comes Cookie Monster, who of course is furry and blue. Delighted, she ends up wearing him out of the store, and yeah, that's actually pretty damn weird, isn't it?

Well, the other night I finally found my Cookie Monster. I took the drastic step of going to the mall (which was a pretty sad experience, a topic for another post) and combing through the coat racks at various brick-and-mortar stores. And at last, there it was: Lining, removable. Hood, present and also removable. Brand: London Fog (which wasn't a requirement, but still a score). Color: Classic Columbo tan. Buttons: All able to close without making muffled groaning sounds.

The price was...OK, it was more than I was hoping to spend. On the other hand, when I amortized it over the next 20 years, it was almost ridiculously affordable. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

So I finally have a sweet new three-season coat (ain't nobody wearing a coat in Texas in July, and it doesn't rain anyway). It only took six months and a pile of my disposable income to find it. But it's almost perfect. If only it came with cookies...

The Lovers, the Dreamers, and the Ink I May Never Get

It's Spring, when a middle-aged blogger's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of tattoos.

And just like that, Alfred, Lord Tennyson
scores another royalty.

Guys, I just checked, and I first wrote about wanting to get a tattoo almost seven and a half years ago. I wrote about getting inked most recently a few years back as I was about to turn 50. Because that seemed like a pretty good milestone to commemorate, plus I was divorced and independent and all that shit that makes people think a tattoo would be the most eloquent way to communicate their state of mind to the world, I guess?

KEEP CLAM.

I don't think I've mentioned this before (or maybe I have but I'm too lazy to look it up), but Precocious Daughter recently got a tattoo. An oversized Johnny Depp on the thigh is not the choice I would have made, but it's her grown-ass thigh.

It could have been worse,
getting-a-favorite-actor-tattoo-wise.

Anyway, I didn't get a tattoo for my 50th birthday. And now I'm approaching another birthday that isn't any kind of milestone. In fact, I think I'm done with all the milestone birthdays. No one gives a crap about turning 60 or 70, and I sure as hell am not going to hit 100. You can't tattoo wrinkly 100yo skin, even if I did.

I might get this if I lived to be 100, though.

But maybe it's best to get your first tattoo not because of the time in your life, but simply because it's time. Like a hey, I've got 200 bucks burning a hole in my pocket and there's a tattoo place on the corner kind of thing. I don't know. All of this is to say that me sitting for a tattoo is probably not imminent. But when and if that time comes, it's definitely gonna be Kermit the Frog.

That decision right there is a huge load off my mind.

Honestly, the suspense was killing me.

So...it may seem as if finally settling on a subject is moving me closer to the day. But what is really means is that I may very well spend the rest of my life happily narrowing down exactly which Kermit should take up permanent residence on my arm. Or shoulder. Or ankle.

That in itself is a decision that could push me well into the Social Security years, so I'm not even entertaining it for now.

This Kermit from "The Muppet Movie" is the avatar on my Microsoft account and holds a special place in my heart:

This Kermit is an illustration from a book called "The Sesame Street Book of Letters." It was one of the first Sesame Street books published way back in 1971, and I loved it when I was a wee tiny thing. I like this Kermit because he wasn't an icon yet, so the drawing is looser and less "branded" than he would become later:

There's also the straightforward head shot we all know and love, which is iconic but frankly a bit dull for a tattoo:

Or Kermit with a banjo, which is surely one of the top Kermits of all time:

I could go for a classic Kermit flail, although it would take a very talented tattoo artist to isolate and reproduce just the right moment out of this:

I could go more contemporary, of course. Like the now-legendary Kermit sipping tea, which has only been around since 2014, although it seems like much, much, much longer:

Nonplussed Kermit just might be my spirit animal:

Or I could reproduce this utterly charming Funko Pop figure of Jim Henson holding the frog he lovingly created and brought to life. This one has really captured my heart, to be frank:

Full disclosure: In researching this post, I came upon the above Funko on Amazon. It's possible that I recently had to spend most of the latest stimulus check on unexpected expenses, and it's possible that I just now used the credit-card points from those expenses to give myself the early birthday present of the above Funko figure because dammit I need to catch a break in this young but painful year of 2021.

Maybe when my Jim Henson and Kermit figure arrives, it will be enough to put it in a place of honor where I'll see it every day.

Or maybe I'll take it to a tattoo shop and say, "Ink this on me."

I'll let you know. It could happen any time in the next 20 years. Stay tuned.

Oh, and let me know which of these Kermits - or others - you recommend. Thanks!

A B C D E F Cookie Monster...FTW

Where to start with this?

Some tales are windier than others.

I don't know if I've mentioned it here, but Precocious Daughter recently became the youngest member of a local wind ensemble that performs throughout the year in the Dallas area. Her music teacher happens to be the clarinet section leader, and she invited PDaughter to join the group.

As an aside, the previous youngest member of this ensemble was one of my amazing nephews, whose music teacher plays for them, and who coincidentally is married to PDaughter's music teacher.

Connections. They're a thing.

Anyway, the wind ensemble rehearses once a week in the band hall of a high school in a little town somewhat north of where we live. In normal late-rush-hour traffic, it takes nearly an hour to drive there. Then I get to sit through two hours of rehearsal, then drive back on roads undergoing late-night construction, i.e., closures and detours.

It's a bit stressful.

Let's not forget that this is after putting in
a full day's work at the Office O' Hell.

So I bring my laptop with me on these evenings, and a pair of headphones (gifted me by my wonderful Drummer Boy). And tonight, while PDaughter rehearsed with the ensemble, I watched an episode of Mystery Science Theatre 3000.

Prince of Space. I LIKE IT VERY MUCH.

When the episode ended, there were still about 10 minutes remaining in the rehearsal. So I watched one of my all-time favorite clips from Sesame Street, namely this.



And then I got to wondering about this wonderful little girl. Her name is Joey Calvan. She appeared in several Sesame Street bits in 1973. She was six, which makes her just about my age (and believe me, at the time I owned numerous outfits just like the one she's wearing here).

After a bit of Googling, I found this. It's the prologue to a biography of the late great Jim Henson, and it happens to be about this very segment.

Please, please, please, read it here.

Drunkards, I firmly believe that Jim Henson was one of the best humans to ever walk this Earth.

This brief prologue made me tear up. Because I'd like to be as sensitive, loving, and humble as he was in his all-too-short life.

But mostly, I love that through him, Kermit created an immortal moment of love and kindness.

Who among us can say we've done the same?

Kermit Is As Kermit Does

A new species of frog has been discovered in Costa Rica.

Except it's not exactly new.

*flails*

OMG, it's Kermit.

He's not sporting that sweet spiky collar. And his innards are visible through a translucent stomach.

But LOOK AT THOSE EYES.

Did you not believe that the late Jim Henson was a goddamn genius?

Moron.

I have absolutely no problem believing that Jim Henson created Kermit in the image of a living, breathing species of Costa Rican frog.

Because Jim Henson was my hero. I cried when he passed away in 1990.

Yet somewhere, in the jungles of Costa Rica, there lives a frog who carries on his legacy.

And that fact is why I don't need religion.

All hail the little green frog that looks just like Kermit.

You kick ass.

Do you mind if I call you Kermit?

You remind me of someone very special.

Benedict Cumberbatch Turns Me to Jelly. So Pathetic.

In honor of his 38th birthday, here is a song about Benedict Cumberbatch.

How does this even? *dies*

It's sung to the tune of "Cottleston Pie." If you don't know the song...well, shame on you, first of all. But also, please watch this clip first. It's one of my favorite clips from my second-favorite Muppet, Rowlf the Dog. Take it away, Rowlf.




I love that clip so much.

OK, now here's my song for Benedict Cumberbatch. Sing along. SING ALONG. OK.

Benedict Cumberbatch, Sherlock Holmes guy,

Your birthday's on the 19th of July.

I'd like to hug you and lead you awry...

If you were here I would certainly try.

Benedict, Benedict, you make me sigh

With those sweet heterochromatic eyes.

Ginger or raven or snowy white...

I'd run my hands through your hair every nigh-IGGGHHHHT.

Benedict Cumberbatch, I don't know why

I'm glued to the screen every time you are nigh.

This middle-aged fangirl cannot deny,

Your birthday, Benny, is simply to die.

It's a sickness, honestly.

If you want me to write you a birthday song, let me know. But you'd better be freaking awesome.

Stubs

Here are bunch of stubby little thoughts. They're all too weak to make an entire post out of...out of which to make...whatever. So I'm mashing them all together into one barely adequate post. And I get to throw away all these random scraps of paper with sentence fragments scrawled on them. They're like creepy fortune-cookies written by a marmoset with ADD.

I totally used that simile so I could
use this picture.

1. Obviously, when someone sits on their cellphone and accidentally calls you, it's called a butt-dial. But what if the phone is in their front pocket? I've decided it's called a nut-dial (for guys only, of course; I'm still working on the female version).

2. I realize that there is only a tiny subset of my already tiny body of readers who will get both halves of this comparison. But I'm not going to let that stop me. Does anyone else think that Robert De Niro as the young Vito Corleone in The Godfather Part II is a dead ringer for Kendall from boy band Big Time Rush?

This is haunting me.

3. Snickers Peanut Butter Squared is advertsing that it now contains 125% more peanut butter. Longtime readers know that I have had a passionate love affair with Snickers PBS. But now I don't eat sweets. So this news only makes me yearn for my former love like a middle-aged woman at a Rick Springfield concert.

I've hungered for your nuts...

4. I spent several hours yesterday reading David Thorne's blog 27b/6 (which you seriously need to stalk if you don't already). He is, hands down, the funniest blogger on teh Interwebz, and I only stopped reading because the urge to kill myself in a fit of writer's envy was growing unmanageable.

5. I've almost decided on what to get as a tattoo, assuming I ever decide to get a tattoo. Or I thought I'd almost decided. And then I saw this.

How do you say "squee" in Japanese?

Miyazaki soot-sprites for the win. How does one choose between this and Kermit the Frog, pray tell? And don't say both - I don't even know if I the nerve to get one, let alone two. But OMG, such cuteness in ink.

6.  Finally, Benedict Cumberbatch is making a movie called Black Mass. It's set in the 1970s. Check this out.

That tie. That hair. Those sideburns. Far out, man.

Stubs out.

Reruns Are OK If They're Awesome: My Blog, My Rules

Just about a year ago, I ran a post featuring Neil Patrick Harris' opening number from the Tony Awards show.

NPH is so amazing that I forgive him
for what he wore to Met Gala.
I don't understand it. But I can forgive it.

Today has been a busy day, and now I'm about to introduce Precocious Daughter to Pulp Fiction.  Woo-hoo! So no "real" post tonight. But I will embed NPH's Tonys opening number. Again.

Just because I love it. And because being a blogger means being megalomaniacal and drunk with power. Seriously, we're all like that. It's nuts.

Anyway, tomorrow I'll put together an entire post with all-new material about the stupid crap you've come to expect and even tolerate from this blog. (Spoiler alert: It may feature Muppets.)

But for now...take it away, NPH. 'Night, Drunkards. And remember, "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men.," etc. 

I'm Pretty Sure I Can Levy Taxes and Baptize Babies, Too

Who has two thumbs and the power to administer oaths and take depositions in the State of Texas?

Sorry, Batman, that's only one thumb.

Better, but no.
(OK, now check out Thumbs and Ammo, a hilarious blog
of Photoshopped movie stills.)

Anyway, the answer is...this girl right'chere!

Check it out: I'm a Notary Public, bitch!

IRL name artfully blocked out.
They wouldn't let me use Chuck Baudelaire as my
notary name. Whatevs.

 

I'm all up in your documents, witnessing your signature and whatnot. Anything you say is a big fat lie until I put my stamp of approval on it. YOLO! 

 

Yo, Drake, you sorry you ever said that now?

Yeah, I'm basically a ninja now. I'm an official Officer of the State of Texas. Says who? Says no less than the man, the legend, the guy I didn't vote for: Governor Dick Perry!

 

 

Dick Perry: Proving once and for all that these
are not hipster glasses.

Hey, check this out. So Dick's signature graces my notary commission paper certificate thingy.

 

 

My first thought when I saw this was, Dude uses a signature font on state documents? WTF?

 

But you know what? That weird block-printed string of letters is his actual signature. Which, honestly, is no less WTF-worthy.

 

 

 

 

I can't describe it any better than activist Greg Newburn, who famously tweeted, "Rick Perry's signature looks like a Muppet wrote it."

 

And while he's got a point, there is a certain elegance to
Kermit's that is missing from Gov. Perry's careful
third-grade printing.

But hey, no matter. With that childish scrawl, I am a Note a Republic. Er, a Noter of Public. Wait, a No to Republicans.

 

I'm the bitch that is gonna stamp your documents what need stamping.

 

And I'm going to do it for free. Because the state says if I charge money I have to keep a whole set of books on that mess.

 

I have no idea what I'm doing.
None.

I'm the People's Notary. I don't do this for the money. I do it for the insane amounts of power. And the cool stamp.

 

Also, to be a notary, you have to be bonded. I don't even know what that means, but I'm hoping at some point it involves Matthew McConaughey and a lasso. I'll keep you posted.

 

So if you have any serious legal paperwork requiring the sober reflection and responsible witness of a Texas Notary Public...you can come to me instead. I love to use stamps.

 

Accepted by any court in the state. I'm pretty sure.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go practice my notarizing signature. I'm hoping it ends up Gonzo-esque.

You Search, I Find

I like to look at the search terms that bring people to my corner of the blogosphere. This showed up in the list recently:

Along with "disguting rat." Because rats are, you know, disguting.

You want Benedict Cumberbatch being adorable? I'm about to make this page Awesome Central for Benedict Cumberbatch being adorable.

Voila.



Also, this:

Benedict + Muppets = Adorable.

Bookmark it, people.

Friends of Kermit

Gosh, I love Kermit the Frog.

You can just tell he would never call you names
or make you eat flies against your will.

Kermit is a very popular frog-about-town. He's a hopper and a croaker. And he has some very high-powered friends. It's enough to make you green with envy.

Someday I'd like to have my picture taken with Kermie. I'd post that shit on my blog every day for a month. But until that happens, here are some pictures of Kermit with his equally awesome friends.

Kermit and Alec Baldwin.

Kermit and New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg.

Kermit and Cee-Lo "It's Not Easy Bein'" Green.

Kermit and Dolly Parton. "Kermit, honey, my eyes
are up here."

Kermit and Ellen DeGeneres, proving love knows no species.

Kermit, John Cleese, and friend.

Kermit and Lady Gaga. All is forgiven after the
incident with the dress...maybe.

Kermit and FLOTUS in a bipartisan moment.
(Kermie is a member of the Green Party, of course.)

Kermit putting the bite on Vincent Price.
(This .gif may not be rendering properly - let me know, OK?)
 

Kermit and Pee-Wee Herman! But where is Pterri?

Kermit and Sofia Vergara, of whom
I've never been envious until now.

Kermit and Wilmer Valderrama, in Instagramerrama.

Kermit and Wolf Blitzer, talking about what douches
the guys at Fox News are (probably).

Love you, KTF. I'm ready for my close-up whenever you are. Call me - we'll go swamping.