Hungry Girl Problems I


I’ll admit it, I am a Hungry Girl. 6’ of voluptuosity and when I get hungry, I get HUNGRY.

Today, my co-worker and I were taken out to lunch by a vendor. He’s a foodie, and we think of him more as a friend than a vendor. Usually our lunches with him involve a lunch ribeye at Leon’s, or seafood, so today we chose Dudley’s.

I love the Fried Crawfish Tails. I am not a big Cajun food fan, but damn, Dudley’s produces some amazing fried crawfish tails! A side of fresh cut french fries, and a hot roll, which I pull apart and lovingly administer butter to, as if it were “mouth to mouth” only with knife and a warm roll. Hot dam Skippy! It is some good eating.

Herein lies my HGP for today: Lane Bryant Jeans with “T3 Tighter Tummy Technology”. “You’ll love how you look in our dark rinse straight leg jean with T3 Tighter Tummy Technology. Built-in control panel firms and flattens your tummy. Built-in elastic waistband provides a comfortable fit and prevents gaps.” Per the Lane Bryant website description.

I wore my brand new pair of boot cut T3 jeans today.

On top of my new jeans, I didn’t stop and get a crispito for breakfast. By 11:30 am, I was “starvin’ Marvin” for the lack of a better term. I know, you would think my body would begin to feed off itself, but that is not how it works.

We arrive and are seated at Dudley’s. Our waiter is very attentive, and our order gets put in with a quickness. I ordered a side of garlic bread with extra butter, because I have been craving buttered bread as of late. Go figure.

The food arrives. Omg. First the warm, buttered roll. Then dipping those fried crawfish tails into their special sauce mixed with some fry – it’s a mouth orgasm.  I didn’t even get to the garlic bread. Oh, and the major breach of etiquette, I asked K. if he minded if I got a piece of chocolate pie to go. For real. I have no shame in my food game.

I know you are asking yourself, “Where is the “Problem” she eluded to in the title? Here is it:

The 3T Tighter Tummy Technology jeans were killing me! Dear Lord, they not only “flattened my tummy”, but they also seemingly pushed my bladder & stomach into my lungs! I felt like I did on any given Thanksgiving evening. I imagine I know what a full tick or mosquito feels like at capacity.

Back at the office, I seriously wanted to unbutton the two buttons and let down my zipper. The piece of chocolate pie sat in the fridge, waiting for me to inhale it tomorrow. My intestines shuffled around after a few hours, so I felt better.

So, Lane Bryant made my tummy look good, but they totally screwed me over after lunch. I can’t even imagine if I had been wearing any kind of SPANX!

K. drives a company car, a Ford Fusion to be specific, and it rides close to the ground. When we got back to our office, I felt like I should  have just thrown my legs out the passenger door, and let him push my butt until I fell out into the parking lot after lunch.

It was all worth it. Delicious food, lively conversation, and great company. Making memories and enjoying the small things in life. (even if that did involve some overindulgence that gave me grief for a few hours)

If you ever visit Longview, Texas, I encourage you to try Dudley’s. Hell, I will meet you there if I am around. I always appreciate breaking bread with others who enjoy delicious food as much as I do.

That Special Friend

ginger art

Many of us have that one special friend who can make anything sound perverted. I say “many” instead of “all” because there are a lot of people who walk a little bit closer to God than I do, and they don’t hang around people like that.

I will be honest and say that I do have a few special friends like that. If I ever were to become entirely friendless, I would be that person for myself.  I prefer to have someone special though because the “give & take” of perversion is more fun. I can sit and pervert inside my head all day long, but what is the fun in that. I need an “equal” to spar with, and to help me enhance my skills.

 I don’t know where it started, but I have had things flying out of my mouth unfiltered for years. Oft times, I don’t even mean for it to be controversial, but after I see the reaction of others, I know that once again, I have done it.

For example, this ditty I came up with today at work. The backstory is that I decided to break into my bag of sunflower seeds and needed a “spit cup”. *Spit Cup: A 12 oz. Styrofoam cup in which we ladies deposit our sunflower seed shells. We go full on lady-like and spit the shells into our cups.  As I was walking back to the break room to get said cup, I came up with this one the fly and started singing it to the tune of the “I’m a Little Teapot” nursery rhyme:

“I’m a little spit cup,

Short and stout,

Here is my mouth hole,

Don’t wear me out.”

Now, I wasn’t thinking about anything but rhyming and the cup when I sang the last 2 lines. Seriously. Immediately upon hearing it, by female co-worker began laughing, and a while later, a male co-worker came by and said, “What was that song you were singing about a cup?”.

 It’s a natural gift. You question that I call it a gift. Well, I am a great conversationalist, can be popular at parties should I choose to be, and I don’t need alcohol to loosen up my gift, so I can just arrive and hit the ground running. I don’t always paint with the colors of perversion, as I know how to read my crowd, but it’s like a bacchanalia in my brain. I think my humor is fantastical. Not for everyone, and the saying “To know me is to love me” doesn’t apply to me at all.

 Another gem from today:

 Female co-worker to male co-worker re an electric stapler in the office:  “You have to push it in and out for it to come out.”  My comment was, “Isn’t that generally what you have to do? I thought that is how things work naturally.”

 I know. I know.


Taco Fever ~ An original piece of work by AGS

taco 1

Taco Fever

Sitting alone in her apartment feigning for her fix,

The rumbling in her tummy is getting really bad,

(maybe if her Friday night included some dix,

not having tacos wouldn’t make her so sad)

*see what I did there? LOL!

Tacos, they call to her like long lost friends,

Will her obsession with them never end?

This piece of crap town can go to hell,

Because my only choice at this hour is Taco Bell.

Girl loves Del Taco,

It’s open all the time,

Only closed 2 days a year making me shout “YOLO!”,

I could do with some Del Taco just fine.




First, let’s define “areola”: a small circular area, in particular the ring of pigmented skin surrounding a nipple.

(I was asked “What is an areola?” when I used the term in a Facebook status)

The areola is basically a Siamese twin to the nipple. In society, we don’t walk around letting our nipples stick out. Wait, a couple of caveats to that statement –

  1. Based on numerous episodes of “Friends”, nipples dictated when the character of Rachel was cold and they stuck out.
  2. Men walk around with both nipple and areola displayed to the world and society doesn’t bitch about that.

Areolas are connected to breasts. I will be honest, I like breasts. I even own a pair myself. Breasts are one thing, but when areolas become the focal point of my conversation, I get a little squirmy.

Areola, as I have named her, is a neighbor. A bit on the hillbilly side of life and devoid of the social graces society favors. She worships my dog, Sophie. “Worships” is used loosely, because if Sophie ever goes missing, I will knock on her door first. She gets totally fan girl over Sophie at every opportunity.

I have grown accustomed to the very tight-fitting, no bra wearing, un-supported breasts that throw themselves at Sophie. I divert my eyes because I really don’t want to have to say, “Excuse me, your breast is out.”  while she is bent over playing with my dog. It’s always a risk.

Fast forward to summertime in Texas. Ah, nothing like freakish levels of heat and humidity to get the clothes coming off. Thoughts of the swimming pool begin to arise, and neighbors walk around in swimsuits and towels.

Not Areola. No, she bounds toward me, all jiggly, and she sports the latest black athletic shorts, and the palest blue, spaghetti strap cami-thing I have ever seen. Did I mention that the fabric is also thin and see-through? As she lopes happily towards Sophie and myself, I begin to make out these enormous areolas pushing against her top. There is no nipple, just areola. It’s so tight, I literally make out every single bump and vein. I can’t take my eyes off of them. It’s like a grotesque train wreck – you see it coming down the track, but you’re helpless to do anything. She just kept playing with Sophie and the areolas are just bouncing around like a Plinko piece on The Price Is Right!

If Gina Gershon were to lope towards me wearing the same attire, it would be different. Christina Hendricks, different.  Kate Upton. Salma Hayek. Etc. You get the idea. We all want the areolas we are forced to look at to be attached to an eye pleasing package. Why it gets weird when they are on packages that require cornea diversion probably makes me a horrible person.

I’m shallow and weird. I have conversations with Areola and her pair of areolas. Going forward, I think I will start naming each bump. Like they are freckles. That should help.

Funny. I had to add “areola” to my spell check dictionary.

The Birth

A blog is born.

After years of someone riding my ass about writing a blog, the sun, moon, and stars have aligned. What was that? Why now? Well, for starters, A. won’t get off my back about it, and secondly, I do keep a lot of things repressed and would like to express myself uninhibitedly.

Repressed. Perhaps it’s more that I like to think I have manners. A personal blog is different than holding court on Facebook. There, unless you “Unfollow” or “Unfriend” someone, you are forced to see the rhetoric. Here, one subscribes to read my ramblings and one can easily unsubscribe as well.

I am not for everyone. Usually, people meet me and either instantly like or dislike me. I will venture a guess that this blog will reflect that as well.

I have no aspirations for greatness, only to entertain the discerning reader & bring some hilarity into this negative world. Who am I kidding?! I eventually want to be so renowned that I see “Jucy’s Taco” advertising on the right hand side of this website!

I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the godmother of A Ginger Snaps. The wind beneath my wings. The part of the Kenny Rogers song, “And she believes in me, I’ll never know just what she sees in me. I told her someday, I could change the world, with my little BLOG…” You get the general idea.

A., you did it. I am finally sitting here putting fingers to a keyboard. I hope I make you proud.

So, I welcome you. Ye who have taken leave of your sensibilities and subscribed. I think it will be fun, and an adventure for us all.


*NOTE: The names will be abbreviated to just the first letter of the first name to protect the innocent.

Welcome To My Blog

In a world of political correctness, negativity, and easily hurt feelings, a ginger sometimes “snaps” and needs a place of refuge. This is that refuge.

I hope you enjoy this foray into my head.

DISCLAIMER: I embrace profanity like a delicious taco. If you don’t like delicious tacos, then this blog probably isn’t the place for you.

DISCLAIMER: No taco establishment is paying me to talk about their tacos. I just love tacos. Insatiably love tacos. Not “fuzzy tacos”, not that there is anything wrong with that…

Welcome to my world –

A Ginger Snaps