humorous thoughts on adulthood, because we're all in this rickety tree-house of life together

Tag Archives: celebrate

So you know what you have to do this weekend that’s not on your calendar?  Besides mowing the yard, unloading the dishwasher, calling your mother, and hitting the grocery store, you have one more thing on your plate.  And no, it’s not going to Berkshire Hathaway days at the Furniture Mart or going to the strip joint to celebrate Jim’s “supposed” bachelor party he’s had at least 3 times.  No, no, my friends, along with the over 80 crowd and the 7-year-olds whose elementary teacher made them piece together paper baskets off of the internet, you are going to revel in May Day!

That’s right, you long-time followers know that I believe in May Day (for you newbies – see  http://boltoncarley.wordpress.com/2010/04/28/mayday-mayday/ ).  I know it’s not a sanctioned male holiday like Valentine’s Day, Christmas, and Mother’s Day and that’s why no one pays it attention, but I think it’s important and damn it, we all know I’m right. (Does saying that with conviction make it sound kinda true?)  Besides, how can you not wanna celebrate?  It’s May!  It’s the unofficial start to summer!  It’s the idea that you might not be pasty white in another few weeks!  It’s shorts instead of mittens season!  It’s grilling weather!  And that means drinking beer weather!  (I know – that’s year round, but you know what I mean.)  And I’m not saying you have to go out and get some frilly-ass little basket or one of the left-overs from Easter, you can celebrate May Day in whatever capacity you wish as long as you make someone else’s day by dropping off some sort of “goody” (and no that’s not a euphemism for a sex act or a bag of dog shit).  I’m talking a 6 pack a beer, a package of steaks, an empty wine bottle (guess who gets to empty it???) with a tulip from your yard in it, a balloon, a Snickers bar, a pair of racy thong underwear, a bottle of fingernail polish, a blackmail picture from childhood, a loaf of banana bread, or a secret admirer poem of which “roses are red, violets are blue, I like Right Said Fred, and I wanna get under you” is completely legit as quality verse.  Of course, it might depend on who you are going to surprise…

So maybe we need to discuss who should get blessed with a May Day “basket”.  First off, I’m all for grandparents or lonely elderly neighbors getting May Day gifts.  People think I’m a little quick to jump to that suggestion, but frankly, if I live to be 90 somebody better damn well be pampering me with surprises.  Then again, I also feel for single people.  If you’re single, I also think this is a perfect opportunity for hinting.  You can always blame showing up at their house and leaving suggestive gifts on their doorsteps as it simply being a May Day tradition.  And like I said, there’s lots of options for “gifting” on May Day.  What girl wouldn’t be excited to see some Ben and Jerry’s on her front step?  It’s a lot easier than Valentine’s Day.  No card necessary! 

I’m also for teaching the younger generation this fine upstanding holiday so please remember your little toddler nieces and nephews on this, the first of May.  And don’t think they won’t be happy to see a Hot Wheels car or a box of fruit snacks!  But seeing as how I am just an old married woman, I also have to say it’s best to remember your friends, too.  You know – those people who take your phone calls even though they know you’re PMSing and it’s gonna be a 10 minute diatribe about how the plumber screwed you over, your husband can’t put his shit away, and you’re going to kill your kids – yes, those friends.  Basically, everybody could use a little piece of happiness today or tomorrow or the day after that.  Between gas prices, tornados, gang shootings, the cancelation of All My Children, and the NFL lock-out, who doesn’t need a pick-me-up?  Exactly my point!

So get off your ass, think of a proper tiding, plan an escape route, and as they say in my world – knock, ring, and run, bitch!  Oh, and have yourself a Happy May Day while you’re at it.


Hello, summer vacay!

So I’ve been told that I am always counting down to something.  Damn right, I am!  Yeah, I was the zit-faced, chunky-monkey kid with a cross-out-the-days calendar in my locker.  So what?  Anticipation is part of the enjoyment.  It’s like when you’ve listened to the songs on your ipod so many times, you start singing the next song in your head before it comes on.  It’s what keeps us revved up.  Someone might dare to call it foreplay.  

 Maybe you’re looking forward to taking your kids to Disneyland for the first time.  Maybe you’re seeing your sister for the 1st time in 3 years.  Maybe you’re going on vacay to Jamaica, mon.  Maybe you’re drinking and whoring on Saturday night (it’s really none of my business what brings you pleasure).  Maybe you have tickets for the season opener Chiefs game (God help me, they have to win sooner or later!).  Maybe you’re looking forward to retirement.  Or perhaps the plan is just to go home and take a hot bath with a long book. Still, shouldn’t everybody have something to look forward to? 

 You can love your job, but nobody love loves their job.  My theory is that no matter how much you love your job, you love a day off away from your job more.  And if you don’t, um, well, maybe you should rethink your life choices.  Maybe it’s time to get a new family, a new set of friends, a new hobby, a better husband/wife, or a secret hide-out!    Not trying to be harsh, just simply suggesting that all work and no play makes you the crazy guy staring out the window tracing his cat’s paws on the other side of the pane.

 See, the thing is:  you can go to work and have an awesome day.  You can get a compliment on your new shoes that you scored on the end-of-summer sale for $4.  You can unexpectedly run into Brett Favre.  You can find a cheese and cracker tray in the workroom lounge area (shout-out to my LF crowd there).  You can get a promotion, or the cubicle-mate from Hell can “decide to move on” after listening to your subliminal mix cds.  You could even have somebody tell you “what a difference you made in his/her life” (blah, blah, blah). 

 But really, none of that holds a candle to getting up late, laying around in your pj pants, checking out facebook and the movie channel, having a late lunch of chips, pop, and chocolate cake, and getting in a nap around 3.  If someone comes home for an afternoon delight post-nap, sure, go for it, but don’t tell me you’d rather be working.

 I’m just saying, yes, it’s okay to countdown and celebrate life’s little, or big, happinesses.  People may judge, but feel free to take that victory lap around the office waving your tie in the air like a lasso, shouting “I’m free! I’m free!  Woo-hoo!” as you vacate the premises for your 10 day celebrity cruise to Puerto Viarta. 

 I’ll be jealous, but I’ll be cheering for ya…



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