Put Your Right Foot In...

News has been rather quiet lately.  Oh, some of you know that last week I’d been obsessed with being charged with felony mayhem after having read the bit about the woman who bit off her poor husband’s tongue when he tried to give her a goodnight kiss.  http://www.sheboyganpress.com/article/20101207/SHE0101/101207006/Karen-Lueders-of-Sheboygan-charged-with-biting-husband-s-tongue-off   (My hubby’s expressed his concern over my little obsession, assuring me that if I don’t want a kiss goodnight—or good morning, for that matter—I simply have to say so.  I promised that I would use my words, not my teeth, and I think he’s feeling better about all of it.) 

Anyway, I had this whole picture of me, dressed in my suburbanite turtleneck and mom jeans, sitting next to the babe in bloodied, hardcore biker leather in conversation:

“Whatcha in for,” I’d ask her.

“Murder.  First degree.  Mutherfucker had it comin’.  You?”  She’d respond all second-nature like.  I'd nod my head in acknowledgement.

“Felony Mayhem.”  I’d say with a nonchalant confidence.  And then there’d be some divine light that would shine down from above with a host of heavenly voices singing, and all the hardened criminals would stop what they were doing and bow to me.  You see, it takes a special kind of crazy and some big cahoonies to maim someone.  Especially with your teeth.  (Was that the sound of one of you male readers shuddering?  Sorry, man.  Just breathe.  It’s only a blog.  Well, unless you’re that guy in Sheboygan who has to learn sign language in order to express himself now.  Thank goodness they were only kissing, eh?)  Anyhoo, all those babes with their guns and knives would have a new respect for the woman in the corner with the $125 hairdo and the midline to midline teeth.  I’d henceforth be the nutty bitch you just leave alone in the corner conversing with herself.  Perfect scenario.

Yeah, I was totally consumed with the thought until I realized to actually be charged, I’d have to do the deed, which is out of the question.  I have TMJ issues.  Ripping into someone’s flesh with these choppers ain’t gonna happen.  Most days I’m lucky if I can fit a fork with some food on it in my yap, which means I really can’t open wide enough to do anything worse that one of those yorkie ankle-biter grips (which, I understand, can sting quite a bit, but could hardly be considered a maiming blow—well, unless we’re talking lopping off a finger…but I digress…)

What can I say?  When I realized that the whole felony mayhem charge was out, I got a little depressed.  Too depressed to write about it, that’s for sure.

Then to my excitement (and my good fortune), another news tidbit hit the local wires.  http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1338767/Wisconsin-postman-rounds-nude-cheer-woman-arrested.html  Showing up naked to deliver the mail?  To bring some seasonal cheer to a neighbor?  Lewd and lascivious?  Genius.

Okay, I know what you’re saying.  Krissy, honey, you don’t work for the post office.  No.  No, I don’t.  But it is the family business so there’s a good chance I could weasel myself in somehow.  This little detail wouldn’t be what would stop me from a fun little jail term (and story to tell at Christmas parties once I was finally sprung).

No, much to my own chagrin I realized my hang up would be two-fold.

First, it’s fucking cold out, and we all know that I can’t handle this weather fully bundled in 32 layers.  But no worries; I was determined that this wouldn't stop me.  I can be patient woman when I have to be; it occurred to me that summer will come to the frozen tundra…eventually.  This little kink could be easily ironed out with one scorching, sunny, summer day.

It was my second problem, however, that put the kibosh on my criminally-masterminded plan.  You see, this issue was far too difficult to maneuver and overcome (resulting in the vetoing blow). 

My bod ain’t what it used to be.  Boobs that can be tucked into one’s pants (as if there were even room in there with the voluptuous belly that already resides in the space) cannot be considered the kind of view that supports the idea of “seasonal cheer” (even if the season is a Fourth of July soaked in Miller Lite).  And even though there’re a lot of creative things you can do with duct tape to "spruce things up" a bit (or so I hear), removal of said tape is supposedly quite…excruciating…

AUGH, back to the drawing board...and to waiting for some stoopidhead to do some wacky, noteworthy trick caught on tape.  Hmph…

However, in a sincere effort to shake my little emotional downturn, instead of commenting today on some lame news item, I thought I would put out a public service announcement instead.

You know how you’re driving along and you always see that one shoe sitting at the side/in the middle of the road/highway?  You.  You know who you are.  If you keep your laces tight and pull your right leg out of the open window and put in back on the floor of the car, your shoe can’t get blown off your foot and become fodder for all of us folks wondering how that one shoe got there.  It’s a distraction to proper driving.  Be considerate of those of us who keep both shoes on, please.  Thank you.  This public service announcement is brought to you by Moos at Eleven…

Okay, newsworthy cuckoos…waiting for your next moooooove.