Hump Day Hijinks

Yeah, we're really hijinky here at the GHR. Judge Judy is tearing some poor schmuck an new asshole on TV, and Obbie is filling out a job application. (I told him NO PIE til it got filled out.) Grace and John Doe are making sure he does it.



I'm just surfing and marvelling at the state of my house. I looked up and was struck by the sheer country of the tableau on top of the armoir in the dining room. A tin chicken weathervane, a jar candle and baskets. Really. How rustic. I have to move that around, it's annoying me up there. True, it's a farmhouse, but I refuse to embrace that whole country decorating thing.



I keep thinking that trend should be dead soon, but I can bank on seeing at least one booth with rusted tin stars, distressed faux fence posts and indoor birdhouses at every bloody craft show I go to. In winter, add the old timey Santas, and chintz bows on fake evergreen trees. GAH! Pass the stick. It's even more annoying knowing that 90% (or more) of this shit is bought from a catalogue and imported from Cambodia to be sold at craft shows. For the record, the baskets up there are old, the blue and white crock was a freebie from an auction, and the tin weathervane came along with Obbie. So there. I've denounced Kountry Krafts. And always will. That shit makes my head hurt. I've had to sit next to those booths all day too many times. OH! I forgot! The seasonal Christmas decorations! Green mason jars filled with pine cones and small white twinkly lights. And let's not forget the tan and blue chintz fabric covering the lid.

Don't get me wrong, a little goes a long way, but some people tend to overload their homes with it. I won't have faux distressed fence posts in my home, nor indoor birdhouses (with fake birds, oh come on, now!) nor will I have a tin star on my house/carport/shed. (My mother tells people that the tin star signifies that the mortgage on the home is held by off-shore Chinese mortgage companies. Oh she's a card, that one. Real estate humor.) Not that I'm any kind of decorator. This place is like Sanford and Sons threw up on Antiques Roadshow in Target. Eclectic is the polite way of saying that, I suppose. Or interesting. I like interesting. People used to remark that there was always something to look at in my apartment. Since I don't have many guests at the 'Ranch, it's just stuff. You must understand. Pack Rat is a large section of my gene pool. I can't help it. But the girly gene that makes women go to great lengths to match paint, curtains, carpets, and decor is missing. I could give a ratsass if the carpet goes with the slipcovers. I'm just happy for a carpet and slipcovers. Curtains? Drapes? Matching rods to go with? Bah, hahahaha. God invented mini-blinds for a reason. And when they get dirty, you throw 'em out and buy new. (They are a pain in the ass to clean) I'd like to have a nice coordinating house. But it bores me. I don't have the attention span to ponder curtains and valances. I have better things to do.

Like blog.

And nap.