Foxy Wine Pocket

Me, uncensored.

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

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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.

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For Sale: My Husband’s Final Hopes and Dreams

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I haven’t been camping in over a decade. Wanna know why? Because I hate it. I fucking hate it.

I guess I didn’t always find camping so detestable. I spent my summers in high school working as a counselor at a campground outside of Yosemite. Three full months of that camping shit. In college, I used to personally initiate camping trips on the weekends and during breaks—pitching a tent, hiking, fishing, cooking up my catch—all that crap. Even in my early married years, I actually enjoyed camping as a leisurely activity.

Me, as a camp counselor. Of course that dirty hippy loved camping. Of course she did.

But now? Camping is dead to me.

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Sometimes Anxiety Isn’t a Complete Asshole

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When you live with anxiety, it can be difficult to distinguish between the symptoms of the condition and all of the bullshit going on around you. I frequently occasionally find myself asking, “Is this person being a jackass—or am I irritated because of my anxiety disorder?” (Sometimes it’s a tough call.)

Combine anxiety with depression, and those two jerks regularly have me paralyzed, wanting to complete a task but lacking the required energy. Unable to string together coherent thoughts. Unable to approach normal social situations with any grace (if I even make it out the door at all). Unable to function in the afternoon. Well, except binge-watching Netflix. I can always do that.

But sometimes, just sometimes, anxiety isn’t a complete asshole.

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The Problem with Multi-Colored Rugs

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We recently adopted quite possibly the most adorable puppy ever. On doggy death row because of several birth defects, Scooter has a difficult time walking straight and frequently stumbles around like a drunk. (No comparisons to me, thankyouverymuch.) But he’s a total sweetie, not in any pain, and a lovely companion.

Multi-colored rugs and puppy poop created my worst nightmare.

And, OMG, LOOK AT THAT FACE.

Scooter keeps me company in the dining room where I write in a makeshift office space at the table. But the slippery wood floors are a bit tough for him to walk on. When he’s not on the area rug under the table, he often falls on his face. And his butt. And all over the place. (Again, no need for comparisons to yours truly.)

Anyhow, I decided to move my office downstairs to the basement, which is carpeted. The carpeting would make it easier for him to get around and to wrestle with our other dog, which would be great physical therapy.

So I gathered up my supplies from the dining room and brought the first load downstairs. I threw away moved my children’s art supplies from the desk-turned-craft-table, reclaimed it as my own, and started setting up my new writing station when I heard my husband’s frantic voice booming from upstairs, “YOU BETTER STAY OUT OF THE KITCHEN!”

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The REAL Love Your Spouse Challenge

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The Facebook "Love Your Spouse Challenge" is the easy way out. I've just upped the ante. @foxywinepocket #humor

I’ve been seeing all these beautiful pictures of my friends and their spouses on Facebook in the “Love Your Spouse Challenge,” a seven-day challenge designed to “celebrate your special union.” First dates. Weddings. Nights out on the town. Perfection, right?

Some of you have even created hilarious spoofs by posting pictures of your grilled-cheese sandwiches, burritos, and doughnuts (don’t you spell it “donut” or I will cut you). Hilarious, for sure, but not the real challenge.

The glamour shots aren’t the real challenge either though. It’s too easy to post flawless pictures of you and your spouse—special moments and occasions that highlight your love at its finest. What about the ugly moments? The hard ones? (That’s what she said.) The unflattering pictures? That’s where the real challenge comes in.

Allow me to up the ante.

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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.)

Rage Gardening™

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I invented a new way to do yardwork called Rage Gardening™. I'm going to be rich. Or at least a little more sane. @foxywinepocket #humorI have been neglecting my garden. That is not a euphemism for something else; my lady garden is just fine, thankyouverymuch. No, I’ve been failing the plants in my front yard and courtyard (my fancy word for our teeny-tiny back yard).

Part of it is the California drought. Part of it is that I just don’t have the energy. Part of it is SQUIRREL!!!! .

But I have rediscovered my joy for the dirt, the outdoors, and caring for all forms of life. (Except the nasty Pooping Tree.) And I found it through a technique I call Rage Gardening™.

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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.)

Follow Your Dreams and Fuck the Haters

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Follow your dreams. Be true to yourself. Fuck the haters. (Not literally--that would send the wrong message.) @foxywinepocket | humor | inspirational

That’s me. Flipping off the haters.

Recently, I taught a course called “Selling Yourself, Not Your Soul” at a blogging conference in the D.C. area. It was not, in fact, a presentation about being a spiritual prostitute.

As you might expect, however, I swore a lot, told some dirty jokes, and was, at times, completely inappropriate. Because I’m Klassy as fuck. (I think I want that on my tombstone.)

Seriously though, I was just being true to myself. And that, not-so-coincidentally, was the theme of my presentation: Be yourself. Fuck the haters. (Not literally though—please don’t have sex with the meanies.)

On my flight back home, I got to thinking about how these lessons apply to everyone, not just the blogging community. They are universal in nature.

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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.)

Food Fuck-ups and Other Party Disasters

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I'm no Julia Childs. In fact, I have a long history of fucking up things. But the secret to happiness is creating something awesome out of your disaster. @foxywinepocket | humor

As much as I’d love to cook with the expertise of Julia Childs or throw a party with the casual ease of the Barefoot Contessa, I’ve resigned myself to the sad truth that I will never be a domestic goddess.

In fact, quite frankly, I have a long history of fucking up things. [Read more…]


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.)

How to Create a Fantastically Horrific Circus-Themed Centerpiece

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There comes a time in your life when you need to create the most spectacularly fucked-up centerpiece ever. I'll show you how.

There comes a time in your life when you’re required to make a circus-themed centerpiece. Maybe it’s a decoration for a child’s birthday party. Or a get-well present. Or an anniversary gift. I mean, really, what represents marriage better than mayhem and pandemonium?

And you know what evil lurks at the circus, right? CLOWNS. Fucking clowns infest the circus. And our nightmares. No circus-themed centerpiece is complete without a clown. And I’m here to show you how to make one. I’m nothing if not sick twisted helpful.

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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.)