Woooo – HOO, y’all, what a weekend! Triple-Venue Saturday went GREAT, I think everyone at both the weddings/receptions was pleased as punch. Plus, I LURVE to overhear gossip about how Chuckweasel and I are “the best DJ in the area” (yes, apparently “DJ” is used to describe the unit as a whole — there’s never an “s” on it to indicate we are actually 2 separate beings!). So, overall weekend: EXHAUSTING, but WORTH IT!
Then when we were taking the U-Haul back, I was browsing in the “impulse-buy” moving supplies they have up by the counter, and I saw it. They now have packing tape in both red and green! And at first, I was like, “Oh, how festive, you can move at Christmas!” Then it hit me — IT’S DIVORCE TAPE.
Stick with me here: Say I’m thowin’ yo’ worthless ass out (don’t even act like you don’t know why). I put the RED tape — signifying “stop” — on my shit, you put the green — signifying “go” — on yours. And stay away from the Rush compilation, you thieving whore, I bought that before we even met!
Also, ’cause I know you been waitin’ for it, I have created a new game/scientific theorem. It works along the lines of “Dead or Canadian?” Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you…
GAY OR FLORIDIAN?
You know how you see a man, and he’s really put together wearing linen or what-have-you, and his house is all open and airy with flower arrangements and shit, and all his gestures and mannerisms are just a LEEETLE bit over the edge onto the feminine side? If he’s from anywhere OUTSIDE Florida, he’s gay. But for Florida itself, you pretty much have to meet his husband to be sure!
I’m also working on a corrollary: “Dyke or Seattle?” You get the picture… Flannel shirt and boots here in Wes’ BYGAWD Virginny? Buy her a drink. Same outfit in the Pacific Northwest? Her husband’s a logger and he’s gonna beat your ass.
Wait…your throwing me out? I SAID I WAS SORRY FOR my behaviour at dinner last night!! In my defence your mother had it coming…Trifflin whore she backed me into the bathroom and tried to have her way with me… Dont say it didn’t happen… you were not there. Your father had to come rescue me! And don’t even start on the whole dishes thing… Your not so perfect yourself!!
What about the time you threw out my favorite pair of track pants?
Wait NO NOT THE GREEN TAPE!!!
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This wasn’t even about all THAT — this was about the time you used TWO Ramen seasoning packets on YOUR Ramen and I had to eat mine plain! Selfish.
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I’m glad dee-jaying went so well 🙂
I so need that tape, my electrical tape supplies are low and I could use a new theme colour. Plus the megatron got disassembled by D so I really need something awesome to make it again, black just wasn’t it’s colour
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I also saw theme-print duct tape at the Walmart last week — peace signs, stars, crap like that — ME WANTS IT!
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I DID offer you Ranch Dressing for your noodles, lets not forget. You didn’t need any more sodium in your diet, I was trying to save your life, ungrateful wench!
Wait, I didn’t mean that…Open the door…
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I’m not even going to dignify that with a response. Have fun sleeping on the porch with the raccoon! ; )
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Thanks for the early-morning laughs. 🙂
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anytime, dahlin’, and right back atcha!
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The red and green divorce tape is a riot! Maybe you should market some that is printed with “Mine” and “Yours” – of course the Mine would be in much higher demand. My daughter has tie-dye duct tape…she loves it and won’t share!
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I saw that tape! Now I just need to find an excuse… I mean a REASON… to get it!
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I haven’t had enough coffee to be clever on this, the first day back to work after a long weekend. So I’ll just say I’m glad you rocked Saturday day night. And that’s all I have to say about that.
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we most definitely rocked the casbah… or maybe the casaba?
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Ah, those marketing geniuses… But who wants that extra work?
Mine? Stays in the apartment. Yours? Off the balcony pell-mell into the parking lot. Much easier.
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I like that, but you still need my patented Divorce Tape to label things so you don’t accidentally throw YOUR stuff!
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I have so much crap at this point, if I ever DO get divorced, I’m gonna treat it like a house fire. Or maybe like Supermarket Sweep. If I can’t throw it in the car in 30 seconds, you can have it. I figure this will weed out nonessentials.
Also, I like your Gay or Floridian quiz. Mostly because my gaydar is totally broken and I can’t tell someone is straight unless they’re sucking my tongue. If they’re sucking the hubs’ tongue, totally gay. That little test seems to cause problems when we go out, I have no idea why.
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that’s pretty much how Chuckweasel is… he really can’t tell someone’s gay unless they’re REEEEEEALLLLY over the top. Like if RuPaul and Elton John fell into that machine from “The Fly.”
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Hey there, Hoody! Do you DJ weddings in Maryland? A friend is looking for one.
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hmmmm… let me check with the Weasel. We have not YET taken our show on the road…
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Wow! You are totally right about the tape! And I’ve never heard of Dead or Canadian, but as a Canadian should I be offended?? I’m not. Just wondering.
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Do Canadians not play Dead or Canadian? That’s when someone names an actor/singer/whatever, then the other person has to guess whether they’re dead or Canadian! maybe y’all could play Dead or American?
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No, I’ve never heard of it! I can’t speak for all 33 million Canadians, but it’s new to me! Sounds AWESOME. American would be easy. Maybe we could try Egyption or something?
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I dunno, the point of Dead or Canadian is that almot all actors are either one or the other… William Shatner? Canadian. John Wayne? Dead. John Candy? BOTH.
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Just had my first breakfast of Divorced Eggs (seriously – the name on the menu) this past weekend: red ranchera sauce over eggs and black beans on one side of the plate and, green chile (verde) sauce over eggs and black beans on the other. It was yumm-mee 🙂
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that sounds WUUUUUUNDERFUL… my very favorite breakfast is huevos rancheros, but it takes so much WORK!
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To the left, to the left…everything is your with green tape on the left…
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Sing it, girlfriend! And do the dance, too!
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Floridian men always strike me as Flaky. Is that even a word anymore? I guess that’s because when I’m in Florida I’m on the Gulf side more than down near Miami.
Anyway, the last time I helped a friend of mine move he’d placed color-coded stickers on each box and then the same color codes on the doorways to each room in the new apartment, thus indicating which boxes went into which room.
Ingenious, yes. Also anal. We mixed and matched, just to be assholes. We thought it would loosen him up a bit.
It didn’t. He made us feel so bad we came back and sorted the boxes for him. Then we made him buy beer and pizza.
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I always WANT to be that guy when I move, with little labels and boxes all organized and shit. Then I get frustrated and pissy and I start crying and just throwing shit in the boxes all willy-nilly.
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I just found your blog. And I think I’m in love with you, so I can’t believe you’re already throwing me out. 🙂
Also, as someone whose family is of the “southern gentile manner”, your new game is high-larious. Thanks for letting me read.
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Welcome welcome, and please stick around! See, I’ve marked all your boxes with the RED tape…
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