Sunday, January 8, 2012

Pushing My Buttons

When I first started this blog adventure, I noticed something interesting. Lots of blogs have these things called buttons. Each button is unique to that blog, hopefully making some type of positive statement about it's content. The goal, I suppose, is to get the reader to see the button, grab the code and place it on their own blog. Free advertising. Of course, this only works if you love the blog, think the button is worth grabbing and you're smart enough to cut and paste the code. I usually don't grab buttons because I frequently struggle with that cut and paste smart part.

Anyway, last January my buddy Jessica over at Two Shades of Pink wrote to me suggesting I needed a button. Jess, being the brainiac she is, offered to make the button for Butts and Ashes. What could I say but, yes please and thank you!

Then I got this.......

Now, I am not a completely ungrateful oaf but let's be real. This button is sweet. And pretty. And girlie. And normal. Who in their right mind is going to believe for a nano-second that this button accurately and sincerely represents Butts and Ashes? I'd be sued for libel, for sure, if I enticed unsuspecting masses to visit Butts and Ashes with that button. The poor slobs would read the first three sentences of a post and demand a refund.

Anyway, I had to gently inform Jess that although the button was so sweet it made my teeth hurt and I totally appreciated all her hard work, I didn't think I could use it and still look myself in the mirror. I mean, I do have some integrity. Some.

That's when Jess tried a few more before finally settling on this one.....

Isn't it awesome? Isn't it so me? Vintage, black and white with just a hint of color where you least expect it. And the font? Perfect! No curly cues or girlie swirlies just plain and to the point. I love it! And so, a year later, I have added this little piece of perfection to the blog. Grab it if you like.

One last confession. My new button, although awesome in every way, was not my first choice. Jess, thinking herself a comedian for the moment, sent me a button hoping to shock and surprise my unsuspecting self. Obviously, the girl forgot who she was dealing with. I still say this should have been my blog button. Jess still says something about R ratings, children and common decency.

My first choice?

Wait for it.....

Wait for it......

Wait for it.......

Butts and Ashes. The Woman. The Myth. The Legend.

One last thing. I just heard Jess broke her arm. Please take a minute to stop by her blog, type a well wish or two and let her know you saw the evidence of the day she lost her mind last year. It'll drive her insane. Again.  bwahahahahahahaha

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Disgusting, Tasteless & Desperately Sad

No, that is not a description of this blog or of my life, although I can guarantee my sisters would beg to differ. It was actually a statement I heard made regarding casinos. Of course, the moment I heard those words, I thought of my long lost blog and all the crap I had written over a few short years. I decided to go back to the beginning, read through for one last time, then hit delete. The truth is, however, once I read through, laughed and cried, I realized something. I like this freaky blogging chick and always look forward to what she has to say, even when it's pure crap, which is more often than not. I still think she is funny and I wonder where her thought process comes from. It's so different, meaning freaky strange. Apologies to my sisters, children and dead parents, but I simply cannot delete that which reminds me of how amazingly unique, translate weird, the writer of butts and ashes is. So, rock on disgusting, tasteless and desperately sad.

Let's talk disgusting. Wanna know the most disgusting thing I can think of right now? Too bad because I'm going to tell you anyway. AT&T. It doesn't get more revoltingly disgusting than that. After 32 years of total loyalty to a company that could care less, Bob was downsized, outsourced, reorged, blah, blah, blah. Call it like ya played it, you big, godless, spawn of Satan of a corpaoration. When you let 52 managers go, all middle-aged, all within striking distance of retirement, I believe that is not called downsizing, outsourcing, reorging. I am pretty sure it's more along the venacular of age discrimination.

Dear AT&T,

I hate you.


A middle-aged, fat, white woman who saw her husband cry because of you.

PS....You suck.

Then there's tasteless. I met my sister in Houston a few months back at MDAnderson. The news was not good. Dammit to hell.

"I probably won't even be here next Christmas, Marla."

"Awesome. Can I have Mom's mink coat and her blue chip stamps?"


Yeah, go ahead and cringe while you shake your heads in disgust. I have to be tasteless to avoid crunbling to the ground in a blubbering heap. So go ahead and judge if you must. It won't stop me. Believe me, tougher people than you bunch have tried.

Speaking of desperately sad, thak you Jesus that 2011 is a mere memory. I am not sure I could have taken one more day of it. Seriously, if it had been a leap year, I would have been committed. No, really.

I lost one of my most favorite aunts in the world. She was my last living aunt. My aunt Lillian. She was southern, genteel and made the best tacos in the world. Aunt Lil loved to dance, missed my Uncle Ray every day since his death decades ago and loved her daughters fiercely. She is a major part of my childhood memories and I am sad she is gone. I'll miss that fancy footed redhead every day this side of eternity. I truly will.

Soon after, we received the news that our dear friend, Dick van der Woerd had died. I still don't want to believe it. Dick was a giant of a man and not just in stature. He was a Christian pastor unlike any other I have ever met. He loved everyone, refused to judge anyone and lived every day in a way that made a difference. I know he made a difference in my life. I love him. I always will. I know I will see him again and I look forward to that day. Until then, I will think of him and smile. I hope people will be able to say the same of me when I'm gone. Is there a better tribute than that?

Just a few weeks later, I got the call I dreaded for months. One of my oldest and dearest friends, Lori Parsons, lost her husband Mike. We knew it was coming but that makes the sting no less painful. I continue to cry for and dream about Lori on a regular basis. Thinking about the day Lori called to tell me the news, I have to smile. Of course, my first response when I heard her voice was to blubber like a baby Beluga. But then, in that strangely wonderful way that has always defined our relationship, we began reminiscing and ended up laughing uncontrollably. Any sane person listening in would have been disgusted at the tastlessness of our remarks and remembrances. We were healed if but for just that moment. So I smile.

Anyway, like I said, good riddance 2011. One last thought, if any of you gets the bright idea to die this year, do not call me, because I will never speak to you again. I mean it.