Foxy Wine Pocket

What’s Your New Pandemic Hobby?

Folks, shit’s about to get weird ‘round here.

When government ineptitude first led to shelter-in-place, I figured I’d make the best of my time at home. I Kon-mari’d the fuck out of some closets and cabinets. I fixed a necklace (in two minutes) that had been broken for six years. I even filled out the baby books for my children (who are 17 and 14). Eventually, I ran out of projects and got tired of doom-scrolling and rage-tweeting. So I decided that a new hobby was the key to my pandemic paradise.

Now, I’ve been watching y’all. Not in a creepy way, I swear. But I’ve been ~~judging~~ reviewing what you’re posting on Facebook and Instagram and the like. I know some of you are exercising more. Some of you are making sourdough bread with your own starter named Earl. Y’all are reading more, doing puzzles, and even learning new languages. Good for you.

I took my productivity in a positively Foxy direction: dolls. My new hobby began with “let’s make a creepy Halloween decoration (that’s what Mr. Foxy calls it, but we all know it will be up year-round).” But it got so much worse. SO. MUCH. WORSE.

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What Do You Do with a Headless Doll … and Other Random Questions

By Foxy

It’s possible I have a problem. Fine, I have several problems, but medication takes care of the worst of them. However, much to my husband’s dismay, I may have developed a problematic obsession with dolls and clowns. And it doesn’t seem to be slowing down anytime soon.

It’s gotten so bad, people are constantly offering me their “unwanted” dolls and clowns. In fact, the other day, my freighbor (friend + neighbor) offered me a clown, but specified that she didn’t want to see it altered or cut up or bloodied in anyway. Clearly, I had to decline her offer. I mean, I can not be shackled like that.

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What Do You Do with a Bunch of Clowns Nobody Wants?

By Foxy

No, the answer isn’t “throw them in the dumpster.” Or “douse them with acid.” Or even “incinerate them in a funeral pyre.”

I mean, not when they’re your 100-year-old Aunt Ramona’s clowns.

No, that just won’t do them justice…

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Where Did the Murder Hornets Go?

By Foxy

Mr. Foxy and I have a looong history with rescue animals. When we met, I had a rat, and he had a bunny. After we started dating, he added a kitten (because he’s allergic to dogs), and not to be outdone, I adopted a cat of my own. Then, after we moved in together got married, we found an abandoned kitty in the parking lot of Chili’s restaurant so (obviously) we instantly had a third cat (named Chili, of course). Somewhere along the line, the bunny moved to a farm, and the rat died. (RIP, Buttercup.)

Then, a couple of years later, we stupidly added a fourth cat. (He was the devil.) And a few years after that, a dog (because Mr. Foxy decided he wasn’t going to be allergic to them anymore). A year after that, a second dog.

If you’re keeping tally, you will note that at the height of our insanity, we had four cats and two dogs. At the same time. So what did we do after that?

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“That Girl Who Wouldn’t Shut Up”

By Foxy

IT'S MY MEGAPHONE, BITCHES.

Okay, foxy friends, I know I haven’t been around much the past few years. Sure, I’ve popped in once or twice to reassure you that I didn’t join a cult and to show you my ~~fucked-up~~ FABULOUS Porcelain Doll Funeral/Murder Scene display. But I really haven’t been around.

Here’s the thing: I’VE MISSED YOU. I’ve missed this blog and telling silly stories. And interacting with y’all on social media. And all that other shit. But I think things are going to get better now. I mean, not on the global apocalypse front, but better on Foxy Wine Pocket. I mean, just get a load of this story…

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I’m Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

By Foxy

My 16-year-old daughter recently declared, “Thank goodness Mom bypassed the Pinterest Mom phase and went straight to the Crazy Old Lady phase.”

As I sit here, midday, in my lounge pants and bathrobe with tissues shoved up both sleeves, petting my tiny, spoiled lap dog, and grumbling about the state of the world, I just don’t understand what she is referring to.

Okay, FINE. It’s possible hanging out so much with my 99-year-old Great Aunt Ramona has hastened my transition to Crazy Old Lady more quickly than I’d realized. Especially when it comes to the random (and what Mr. Foxy might call “disturbing”) shit I’ve started to collect.

For instance, this past year, I bought an entire collection of handmade porcelain dolls at a local silent auction. (I don’t even like porcelain dolls.)

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Things to Know Before Accidentally Exposing a Sex Abuse Scandal

By Foxy

Hello? *tap, tap, tap* Is this thing on?

Oh hey. Remember me? It’s Foxy. I used to tell you funny stories. Well, I’m still here, and I still like to write ridiculous shit. I’m still collecting phallic Cheetos, snuggling with my rescue puppies, and enjoying all things wine and bacon. Alas, I have a new hobby—apparently—which is to inadvertently uncover decades-long sexual misconduct scandals and make myself a public target for hate speech and victim shaming.

I wish I were kidding on that last one.

Follow Foxy Wine Pocket on Facebook and Twitter. You can also subscribe to my blog and never miss a new post. It’s quick and easy! (That’s what she said.)

Where Has Foxy Gone?

By Foxy

I know. I haven’t been posting very much. But I swear it’s for a good reason. No, I didn’t taking pole dancing lessons. Or join a cult devoted to worshipping and snuggling with puppies. Heck, I didn’t even go on a round-the-world trip to drink delicious wine find myself.

[Read more…] about Where Has Foxy Gone?

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Everybody Poops … Including the Neighbors

By Foxy

This is an embarrassing poop story. You know you want to read it. @foxywinepocket

I often hear my fellow moms say they just want to go to the bathroom alone—that they want some privacy when nature calls. Honestly, I can’t really relate to this predicament at all. I’ve never had that wish.

Because I’ve never gone to the bathroom alone. Not in my entire life.

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A Snake, an Ass, and a Chupacabra Walk into a Bar

By Foxy

Recently my teenage daughter asked us to join her in GISHWHES (the Greatest International Scavenger Hunt the World Has Ever Seen). This was a BIG ask. It required me to leave my house. To put on pants. To people. (I don’t people well.)

But my teenager asked so the only answer was, “Of course I will!” Which is probably what the creators intended. To bring people together and get them out of their comfort zones.

I approached this hunt like I do many things: reluctantly LABES OUT.

Follow Foxy Wine Pocket on Facebook and Twitter. You can also subscribe to my blog and never miss a new post. It’s quick and easy! (That’s what she said.)

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