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

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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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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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.

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What Not to Wear: A Dress Guide

By Foxy

What Not to Wear: A Spring Dress Guide—These are seriously horrible dresses. @foxywinepocket

Everyone needs a brand-new dress every once in a while, right? Something special and fun that makes you feel fabulous? Like glitter and rainbows? (That’s exactly why I’m in the market for a new dress, not because I’ve gained five… okay, ten… FINE, I’ve put on fifteen pounds sitting on my ass writing a book ~~and drinking wine~~ for the past two years.)

Now, we all have certain styles that look better than others on us. Me? I’ve got a straight waist and a flat butt so I tend to look better in empire waisted and/or fit & flare dresses so as to give me the illusion of a waistline. And an ass.

I’ve been doing some online shopping at Nordstrom, of course. Why would I actually go to a store when I can peruse the racks in my pajamas while drinking wine? I mean, I guess I could do that at the store too, but the last time I did, Security asked me to leave.

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What Happens in Vegas…Gets Posted on This Blog

By Foxy

While I’m definitely too old for Vegas, I’m not too old for a Vegas-themed party.

Fortunately, at the beginning of every new year, my freighbors (friends who are also neighbors) throw an epic rager (I know, I’m even old for using that word). You come in costume, equipped with a short performance, according to a designated theme. Past themes have been Television Stars, Dead Celebrity, and Matchy-Matchy.

This year’s theme, as you probably guessed, was Vegas.

As soon as the theme was announced, Mr. Foxy’s costume was obvious.

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The Dysfunctional Family Drinking Game

By Foxy

To stay sane during holiday gatherings, my husband and I have developed our own secret coping strategy. We call it the Dysfunctional Family Drinking Game. @foxywinepocket | humor| holidays| drinking games

The holidays are a joyful time to celebrate loved ones and family traditions. To give thanks for all of our blessings and good fortune, right? Sure. But it’s also a time of family bickering, passive-aggressive comments, colossal fuck-ups, social faux pas, and domestic disasters.

My husband and I have hosted holiday dinners for the past sixteen years, and we’ve experienced all of these things firsthand. To stay sane during these annual “celebrations,” we have developed our own coping strategy. We call it the Dysfunctional Family Drinking Game. It is a secret game that only the two of us play, and it is designed to make us laugh at the foibles and follies during Thanksgiving and any holiday gathering. Wanna know how to play?

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Oh My Vulva, Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me?

By Foxy

Oh My Vulva, Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me? @foxywinepocket

I’ve been good to my female parts all of my life. I go to the doctor regularly and keep a tidy house. I’ve been in a monogamous relationship for over twenty years, and my lady garden has not received many visitors—either foreign or domestic. And because of my mother’s nightmare-inducing warnings about Toxic Shock Syndrome, I fastidiously clean “down there” and obsessively change all of my feminine hygiene products.

Recently, however, my vulva betrayed me. She allowed passage to a very unwelcome guest.

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