Infidelity

It's time to tell the truth.  Even if it hurts.

I've been cheating on my boyfriend.

And loving mostly every minute of it.

I'm always with my boyfriend in the car, at work and in the kitchen.  We really click when we're together, seeing how music tames the savage beast.

Over the past few weeks though, the beast is getting mixed messages and hardly any soothing at all.  You see, I hang out with my boyfriend because he woos me with the music I grew up with, a.k.a. My Parents Music.

When my boyfriend sings Suite - Judy Blue Eyes to me and backs it up with Mr. Brownstone we have a HUGE problem.  Don't get me wrong, I love both songs dearly.  DEARLY.  And differently, oh so very differently.

I went to my 20 year high school reunion in October.  I do NOT need a daily or even an hourly reminder that MY MUSIC is now 20+ years old.  And WHAT THE HELL boyfriend!!??  What happened to your Classic Rock genre?  Now you just say rock.

I've heard some rather questionable choices/voices come out of you, in particular you incessant need to play Chickenfoot.  Sammy Hagar grates on my LAST nerve.  If I hear ARRIBA ARRIBA One. More. Time. I'm going to go crazy!!

So I ran a few feet back the dial into my 80's easy listening comfort zone.  And those bass turds are playing Christmas music until the rest of the year.  It's ok, it's perfect for the office, I don't have to feel guilty about my radio choice and hide my shameful boyfriend love.  WOW - I'm amazed at how many cheesy Christmas tunes have been recorded.  I'm also thankful they play the old time standards, that keeps me from having to commit space on my mp3 player to my Time Life Christmas Classics CD.

I am most thankful to the sweet baby Jesus that I continue to work in this office, A L O N E.  Because this man and this song makes me believe I can sing every song that comes out of the radio.  I believe I am singing just as pretty as this:

but most likely, I'm pretty sure I sound like this:

Reader Me This, Batman

I'm catching up on my reading.  Here's a well-written LOL to share with you from FML.  


What you said yummcookie, I salute thee!  It may not be very nice (sorry Memaw), but it is pretty funny.  And good luck to you xfmylifexxx.  Too bad we don't get a location on this FML entry, but I do wonder if this happened in a fairly Southern place?

Today, my Asian parents and I went to burger king. When it came to the drinks, my dad said, "cock and no ass." I had to explain to the horrified cashier that he meant, "coke no ice." FML

#6626896 (78)

I agree, your life sucks (10797) - you totally deserved it (659)

On 12/06/2009 at 12:22am - misc - by xfmylifexxx (man) - United States (Maryland)

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EPIC WIN

#1 - On 12/06/2009 at 5:59am by yummcookie

Redneck OCD, I has it.

I recently bought one of these steam cleaners at Big Lots for $59.00.  And I feel like I've already cleaned enough with one gallon of distilled water to cover that cost in cleaning chemicals when applied by hand upon  the same areas.

This is the greatest cleaning tool I HAVE EVER USED!  I get pretty grossed out when I think about how dirty I left things that I thought were clean when I "washed" them with cleaning products.  Cleaning products that burned my hands Slap!  Up! Not to mention me coughing for air or losing the ability to taste!!  

I really, REALLY want to keep cleaning.  I can't stop, even as gross as the process is to get things clean.  I want to keep going and going and going!  The kitchen and bathroom floors get so clean they squeak.  I have so much serious love for this machine I want to kiss it on the lips.  I thought I saw the Kitchen Aid Stand Mixer look at  me a little on the bitchy side while I was steam-mopping the kitchen floor.  "Jealous much, KASM?"  Shark's indigo eyes batted up to the counter-top.

That's why I am diagnosing myself with Redneck OCD.  I keep catching myself saying, "Hey ya'll, WATCH THIS!" as I beg for an audience to witness me wash away the missed splatters on the wall behind the trashcan.  Living in a house full of males makes me happy that at least most of the trash makes it into the can at all.  I yield my weapon for what it is, my Direct Steam Power Wand of Awesomeness.

The only down side to my new toy is the fact that we live in an unincorporated area and have very hard well-water so you can only clean as much as your inventory of Distilled Water of Germ Killing Mass Destruction will allow. Also, you have to have plenty of cheap towels to wipe up the left over steam-water.  

Now I sit in my Fortress of Solitude and think.  I must decide if I am going to enjoy the rest of my afternoon relaxing after all of that work ... or will I work up enough courage to find myself driving to the pusher-man's house for another hit?

Kid speak

I don't usually give Junior his bath, the husband does.  Sometimes Junior gets in a mood and doesn't want to work with his dad and he asks me to do it.  Sometimes I say yes, most of the time I make the two of them suffer through it together.

It had been a while since I'd bathed him so it was fun having to remember his bathing habits.

After taking care of All.  Of.  That.  Hair. and getting the "may doughs" (tomatoes) out of his ears, we rinse him off and I wrap his hair up to dry.  "It's a genie hat!!"  Then I'll wrap him up in his towel and heave all of his 40 something pounds of boy out of the tub.  Squirmy.

Because it is impossible to do anything the easy and direct way when you're four, Junior insists on standing on his stool to be dried off.  Whatever, it's forward progress and even though I am annoyed, I'll allow it.

I playfully pat his brown little face, rub down the left arm and then the right.  A quick shimmy along his belly and back and it's time to work on the lower limbs.  Junior sticks out an arm to lean against the wall and I grab a foot to squeeze out his toes, up his calf and as I dry the top of his thigh he always yells out

"DON'T FORGET THE UNDERLEG!!"

Please view this anatomy chart:

I don't see the Underleg labeled, do you?

And I love YouTube!

Thank you people of YouTube, thank you very much.

Most times, when I have a small flashback of *whatever* and want to research it, most times I can find it on YouTube.  This week's flashback is musical, to be more specific, My Parents' Musical.  Being a child of the late 70s, I sure did get exposed to some very different music.  (The Parents also introduced me to Tom T. Hall.)

Here are a few examples of weirdness that have always plagued me.  Emphasis on plague.

The Edger Winter Group, Frankenstein

1. I covered this one real good a while back.
2. Actually I mentioned it twice.  I have issues with this song, these people!

America, Ventura Highway

1. I always took this as "venture a highway."  I was always exploring while singing this song.
2. WTF is an alligator lizard anyways??  And why in the HELL are they in the air?  HOLY CRAP!  They're real.  Wikipedia can be a very scary place!
3. Now that I'm a grown up (and not 7) I totally get the "nights are stronger than moonshine" bit.  I don't think my nose hairs have ever grown back from that one taste.  If you've had a night stronger than moonshine, how are you able to sing so pretty?
4. Totally the first place I heard about purple rain, I wonder if Price got it from them too?
5. I don't know what's wrong with my boyfriend, but I wish he'd play them more.  And Chicago too.  forget the cowbell, we need MORE HORNS!

The Who, Boris the Spider

1. I barely remember this song, but I do remember the scary voice scaring the crap out of me.  Its possible that my fear of spiders began with this song.
2. There are only a few words to the song, it's not complicated or long.  The only lyrics I ever heard were "HERE COMES THE SPIDER!   HERE COMES THE SPIDER!  CREEPY!  CRAWLY!  CREEPY CREEPY CRAWLY CRAWLY!!"  And it made me want to scream and run away.
3. This one time, at government-run junior college, I rode the Billy Jack bus to the free movies.  The movie was Arachnophobia.  I broke the seat in front of me because I was so creeped out, I would NOT put my feet on the floor.  I had my feet braced on the back of the empty seat in front of me and ended up cracking it after kicking it for 103 minutes.
4. Until today's lyric search, I never knew that the spider got smashed in the end.  Awesome!  The spider dies!!  Wish I'd have known that for the last 30+ years.

So what about you?  Do you have any music issues or am I the only freak around here?

Do you hear what I hear?

It's that time of year again.  Holiday jewelry commercials.

So Kay has started their campaign with a new piece called Love's Embrace.  Have you seen the commercial?  It's here, please go watch it.

Did you hear the last line being sung by the man, "Every kiss begins with Kay?"

DOESN'T THE MAN SOUND LIKE BUFFALO BILL FROM SILENCE OF THE LAMBS?

It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets love's embrace AGAIN!


And I don't think home boy is talkin' 'bout no jewelry either.

Don't you just hate it when....

....you're sitting at your desk, working your little Monday fingers to the bone and one of these crawls out from under your keyboard....

At least he's not all talky and irritating like this guy:

But yes, it would be nice if he made me coffee or brought me a snack or answered the phone or something.

Far Leather Flower Noun

She always ran late.  Late to work.  Late to dinner.  Late.  It was often said about her...she'll be late for her own funeral!

It was kind of true.  There were so many folks at visitation, the funeral did start late.

I'm dreaming about her.  They were casual, fun dreams until Sunday.  I woke up in a cold sweat Sunday.

She would live if she took this medicine.  She could have the medicine if requirements were met.

If I met the requirements.

It was not clear what the requirements were, but I did meet them for a while.

And she lived.

Then she died again.  And it was just as horrible as it was the first time.  But this time, unlike the first, brought the grief.  Six hundred sixty days later.

The grief is stacked on top of the stress.  The stress is large, uneven and unruly.  The stress is having a hard time balancing it's grief.  Tears spill almost constantly in an effort to minimize the strain.  Keep the dam from completely bursting.

I sit at the office and cry through the payroll, invoicing and production reporting.  I'm hidden away in the kitchen cooking dinner, washing dishes and crying.  I'm out walking the dog at night so I can cry and cry and cry some more.

She was not my daughter so I don't grieve for her the way my grandma does.

She was not my sister so I can't grieve for her the way my mother does.

She was truly my friend, confidant, partner in crime, co-event manager, yen to my yang.  We used to have a happy hour/bitch session almost every day after work.  In about an hour we were able to listen or bitch, get it out and move on.  When I remarried, those "therapy" sessions decreased in number and that was OK with me as I had a husband to tend to.  Then I got pregnant.  Then she had a surgery and got "diagnosed."

The tumor came from where?  What do you mean more surgery?  Why didn't you do your job the FIRST TIME, on THIS surgery?

And two weeks later I had a baby.  At the same hospital.

Then we needed to buy a house.  Then we moved to the other side of the river.

River Yankee.  We thought we were pretty clever when we decided to call her boyfriend that.  Now I'd become one.

I loved the area we all used to live in, but when bought on the other side of the river, that commute back "home" seemed so far away.  And a pain in the ass to get to.  Visits became much less frequent.

And her hair fell out.  She told Junior they were going to have a race.  Who could grow their hair faster, longer.  Junior's had another six hundred sixty days to grow his hair out, it's almost to his butt.

She had a stroke.  With all that radiation and poking about in her brain, it's no wonder.  She was weak, yet determined.  She and Junior would assemble wooden puzzles at the dinner table.  I could never be sure who I was more proud of, her for telling her brain to make her hand grasp that small knob and place it in the right hole or Junior, for not being afraid of how she looked and still playing with her.

He has the puzzles.  He's pretty good at putting them together now.  It sucks to know he won't remember how he came to own them and who he played with them first.

660.

Food jerk.

The husband and I were food jerks today.

The Big. Game. is tonight.  High school - RIVAL - football.  Both boys went to the game.  They'll hang out with their women, eat stale boxed popcorn and stadium hot dogs.  These delicacies will be washed down with watered-down fountain sodas in plastic green cups.  GO TROJANS!!  (the football team, not the prophylactic)

While the husband and I were executing the weekly Tactical Grocery Discount Extravaganza Tour through town, we realized it would be just he and I for dinner and decided to treat ourselves to steak.  Bossman gave me a couple of pounds of shrimp and we still had some left to cook  after eating a mess of boiled shrimp last night.

Yep, we went deliberately deviated from the Food Plan.  I'm fairly OCD about the Food Plan.  The Food Plan  has an Excel file.  The Food Plan is printed out, in grid form, and displayed on the Master Calendar on the fridge.  You are responsible to check the calendar and the Food Plan for yourself.  I study weekly ad papers from seven stores compiling a menu from sale items.  The Food Plan is Serious Business.

With just the two of us eating (I don't care what you're eating, unless it's a hot dog or cake, Junior is not going to eat it) steak and shrimp was just too good not to pass up.  We went for it.  We agreed to be a food jerks.

We did get a little food jerk karma thrown back in our gullets.  After I got the shrimp peeled and swimming in the garlic and Teriyaki sauce the skies got dark.  Very dark.  And the rain came down.  Not good for grilling steaks and shrimps.  We opted to have George Foreman cook our dinner for us.  While George cooks mean burgers and dogs, he's not really our preferred Go To Guy for steak cookin'.  In the end he did alright but we did miss the fire taste.

We finished off dinner with a batch of scratched-out-of-the-box brownies.  Mmmmmmm!  I'm ok with being a food jerk.

Business Email 101

Dear Bossman,

This gold floor lamp you have at the office, are you interested in having it back at your home? 

I was running the vac and when I picked up the lamp to clean under it, the bottom of the lamp kind of fell out/off.  The base is filled with concrete.  Which is now grinding up and falling out all over the freaking place.  I have not yet yelled like a gorilla and swung the lamp over my head, but I do feel close to that point.

I never use the lamp.  Do you want it back or can I escort it to the trash can?

Frustratingly,

Me

Hipping and Hopping

I really love Alicia Keys.  I don't know what the hell Jay Z is chapping on about but after this performance at the VMA's I bought the single.  (The live version is WAY better.)

I'm addicted to other things too

Hi, my name is Jocelyn and I'm addicted to Office Depot.

I honestly think I was more excited about OD coming to town than Wal-mart.  And this is The South, you know I be lovin' me some Wal-Mart, it's a law I do believe.  You can't spend time in Wal-Mart without it being considered as shopping or slacking off.  You can kill 2 hours in Office Depot, call it "research" and still get paid for it.


I was comparison shopping our printer replacement.  


I am seeking the best price for #10 envelopes.  


My head is actually bigger than that fax machine, how DO they do that?

I squeed with delight when the home office approved me obtaining an OD charge card.  That $250 spending limit made my head explode with power!  Then the mailings began.  The Big Book of Office Supplies.  Special!  Sale!  Catalog.  FREE GIFT with your order!!  Coupons!!!  Precious, precious coupons.  Oh yeah baby, you know how momma likes it twenty per cent off.  MMMMmmmm  hmmmm!!  (Is it just me or did it get really hot in here?)

I had to buy something on the expensive side, potentially blowing my $250 limit through it's cheap little heart.  It was a mandatory purchase for the bossman and he and his credit card was out of town.  I knew I couldn't put it on my card without being rejected at the cash register.  But I told the lady who pays the bill and like the  mackin' pimp she is, she DOUBLED that credit limit with one sweet phone call.  OH.  HELLS.  YEAH!!

The coupons came more frequently.  Spend $50, take $10 off!  And like the pure evil of the big bad Pusher Man, they began to come in pairs, "And here's an extra one for your cute, thrifty friend."  As my eyes glazed over with red and white OD's, I was calling friends from nearby offices to make an Office Depot run with me.  "I'VE GOT COUPONS!!  I'LL BE THERE TO PICK YOU UP IN 5 MINUTES!!!"

I started rooting for Carl Edwards because OD was his sponsor.

You can even order online.  ON.  LINE.  I can sit at my desk, surfing Office Depot deals like I'm screening free porn.  I can scratch my butt while perusing inks and toners.  The store staff does not appreciate you scratching your butt in the middle of isle 12.  Not even if you're getting paid to do it.  Joy killers.

Today's trip necessitated out of being SHUNNED out of the free gift while trying to place my order online.  It was a sweet little insulated backpack with matching fleece blanket.  Perfect for all of that hiking and picnicking I do.  *snark*  I planned out my order, reaching the purchase requirement and was crushed when the backpack was sold out.  CRUSHED!!

Realizing my defeat, I backed my order down to what I truly needed and took the "stock up" stuff out of my online cart.  When I tried to check out, OD wanted $10 in shipping fees!  Hello, I have a coupon and I'm not going to WASTE it in shipping!!  (Like a smart pusher, the $100+ order is shipped free, next day.  Anything less expensive and you pay for it.)  Naturally, I deleted everything in the cart and decided to drive to the store.

See, besides the benefit of "time suck"...going to Office Depot fills other desires.  There's this guy that works there....hubba hubba!!  I noticed him years ago on a Wal-Mart trip (again with the WM, I'm such a rule follower!!) with his wife and kid.  He's very similar looking to my husband so yeah, this guy trips my trigger.  I mourned this man's hair cut just as I did my husband's.  (Why do the brown-skinned long-hairs always end up cutting off their hair?)  He's been working at OD for a while now.  Naturally, I look at him because why should men have all the ogle fun?

Today I didn't even think to look for him as I was still devastated by losing out on the backpack.  Fortunately, as I was waiting in the checkout line he walked around the corner and said, "Did you find everything you needed today, ma'am?"

Oh yes, Mr. Sexy Man, I found everything I needed today.  I have my envelopes, my adding machine tape, my free ruler and free cap erasers with $5 purchase.  I just felt you up with my eyes and I have a $10 off coupon.  I have everything I could need.

It's getting better

I have a few nicks in my mouth from all the damned gum chewing gone amiss.  I wanted a smoke SO BAD after dinner last night that I put my shoes on and just walked it off.  I did three laps up and down our road.

I have to spend tomorrow with the bossman.  He's pretty ai'ght for the most part, but if he thinks he's going to test me, I'll drop his wheel in the ditch.  Then we'll compare notes on who is being the funniest.  I'm pretty sure I'll win.  Or need cab money.

I can feel my nerve endings regrowing.

I'm not in jail!

No one in my family has been injured or maimed at my doing.  I remain smoke free.  My last smoke was Saturday evening around 11:10 pm.

I did have behavioral cravings (driving the car, taking a break during kitchen cleanup) and time CRAWLED Sunday but overall, I did very, very well.  I did not stuff my face but I did do a lot of pacing, searching for something to do when I was restless.

Mya (the dog) is pretty disappointed with me.  She kept looking at me as if to say, "Will you COME ON!!  We need to go outside for a smoke!  I gotta pee!!"  Before I quit, If she saw me digging in my purse or touch a pack of smokes, she knew she was going outside.  You could ask her, "You wanna go smoke?" and she'd "beat drums" on the floor until you got close enough to the door to open it.  I did finally go outside with her around 6:30 to play Eat Traffic Cones.

Today, at the office, is going to be hard.  It's almost 10:00 and usually, that's my first smoke break.  10, 12 and 3.

Random Acts of Useless Knowledge

I enjoy playing this daily trivia game.  It is fairly easy, there's always at least one answer I'll miss.  I try to learn from my mistake while I cuss under my breath at the smarty-pants "instlouis" who usually wins every freakin' game.

I play as "hayjay" so if you do sign up to play, let me know your handle so we can compare scores.  Because I am a Trifecta (an Ass, a Leo and Competitive), I will be all "I totally pwned your score today!"  Further to my being at work when I play and in the Play Nice mode, I could be all "Wow, your brain is really big and awesome!" when you beat my score.  And immediately begin cussing under my breath.

Note:  the game is timed and it is considered into your score/daily ranking.  I learned that the hard way and I NEVER take phone calls when I'm getting ready to play.

Four Zero

Today is the day.  I have two packs of smokes left.  40 sticks.  And I'm done.  Done smoking.

I never filled my Chantix prescription...the one I got from my doctor LAST OCTOBER.  I was pretty concerned about the "vivid dream" deal.  I've been having some crazy dreams lately and I'm too paranoid to add anything else to what my brain is already doing.

Will and Power???  I'm seeking you!

Also, I may need bail money at some point over the next few weeks.  Weaks?

I need some Depends

I got my 500 DOLLA from here. Now GO! Get you some too!! And DO try taking the Crystal Light challenge. I spent $8 last week and I'm back on a good Drink Your Damned Water Routine. My fingers don't have that puffy/bloaty feeling and I lost 3 lbs last week. Oh yeah...and I WON 500 DOLLA!!!

And read Lindsay's regular blog too. She's funny, smart and honest and no, I'm not kissing her ass. That hard. Also, she looks like the brunette version of my favorite blonde (in more ways than one) New Jersey girlfriend, Ycart.

I have good news and bad news

THE GOOD

After sinking HUNDREDS of dollars into the Borrowed One's mouth over the last year, he had his last procedure done today. I don't care what the dentist is doing in his mouth, it always costs us at least $100 before insurance. I think he's been about 8 times in the last year. I was beginning to wonder if he was part shark with so many teeth to fix. I was dreading today's visit because that $100 was going to go on the credit card because we have no money. Thanks Economy!! When I went to pick him up and pay after today's appointment, I had a CREDIT BALANCE and owed NOTHING on today's visit. HOORAY!!!

THE BAD

I did not pee before I left to go get him. I ran him all the way to the other side of town trying not to pee my pants. I blazed up the steps to the office and went straight to the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair is pulled back today - except for that one belligerent curl that refuses to lay back and STANDS UP - and I'm wearing my favorite pair of Dollar General $3 sunglasses. This combination makes me look like a Sleestack.

Proving that everything has a sunny side....the sleestack action on my face surely keeps the focus off of my round backside.

I named a chicken!!!

Sung to this tune:

I am currently prancing around my office singing:

Named a chicken

Named a chicken

Named a chicken

Named a chicken

Named a chicken

Named a chicken

Named a chicken

Named a chicken

OH OH OH Named a chicken!!

Penny, I am so glad to have helped you! And I'm even MORE glad that helping you didn't involve chicken poop!! I am just FULL OF WIN today!! Ya'll be sure to visit Penny and Bernie!! I have tons more fun playing at their Farmtown than the one on Facebook.

Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed fowl guests, I present you Earlene of Dork:

Trust me, with that name AND those breasts.....her milkshakes bring ALL the boys to the yard.

Totally Awkward Tuesday

I've been reading this for a while and today, I think I'm not too lazy today to play along.

I moved from Oklahoma to North Carolina in the spring of 7th grade, I believe it was 1984 and I was about 12 1/2 years old.

I had to leave my 'hood in Tulsa and all of its benefits: school that I could walk (or bike) to, skating rink, community pool, friends. My hood was my world! I seriously did not need to go anywhere out of my 'hood. It was all any my fingertips as long as my fingertips were grasping my handle bars. (Just so I don't lose any cool points, my bike was actually blue - to match my overalls.)

But North Carolina has the beach, a fresh - new start, my Memaw and Lee Anne. I was happy to be so close to Lee Anne, my Auntie Hero!!

I remember going to Lee Anne's room when we got to Memaw's house. Her room was an addition to a very old family house and it was in the back. You had to walk thru Memaw and Papa's room to get there. It was very "Hi Papa!!" and giggle/scurry to the back where the cool party was at.

Lee gave me a pack of multi-tip fruity scented pencils, a stack of her hand-me-down clothes and let me listen to her funky blue radio. Out of the clothes she gave me, I picked out my outfit to wear for my first day of school: a beige button up shirt with beige shorts and beige knee socks. Why on earth did this strike me as a dress to impress outfit? Sheesh! I must have looked like a Marlin Perkins groupie!!

I remember being scolded for wearing shorts to school, about 1 minute after I arrived. Not that they were short shorts, they were longish, hemmed just above my knee. This is the South. The humid, sticky south and wearing shorts to school was a no-no. If I could have, I would have died on the spot right there. I'd already broken a cardinal rule at my new school. I would be reminded of this rule breaking with every new teacher I met that day.

By the time my fruity scented pencils and I made it to Science class that afternoon I was feeling a little overwhelmed, to say the least. My science teacher was a black lady, I think her name was Mrs. Morris. She was teaching us about mass, weight and gravity. For the life of me, I can not remember the exact question she asked but I did go something like this:

What is the term for measure of matter something has?

And I knew the answer, so I raised my hand.

Please Lord, please let something go right today.

I KNOW this answer, please make her pick me!

Of course she did not pick me. She picked some other guy to answer the question. I also can not remember the guys name who she picked but I do remember that he was not a small, skinny dude. He was rather large, not only tall but big-boned and um...big skinned over that. He was a BIG BOY.

Big Boy answers, "My ass."

OHMYGOD!! OHMYGOD!! OHMYGOD!! DID HE JUST SAY MY ASS??? I swear I almost fainted. I can't wear shorts to school but Big Boy can cuss in class. TO THE TEACHER!!! I was red in the face, I was embarrassed for Big Boy and for Mrs. Morris. My eyes got HUGE waiting to see what was going to happen next....

Mrs. Morris says, "That's correct Big Boy. Mass is the measure of matter that an object has."

Mass.

Not My Ass.

And so began my understanding of the Southern Drawl.

I just noticed.....

I have not one, but two bottles of lotion on my desk and they sit next to my box of tissues. Good thing I'm not a dude but this display reminds me that I'm one crusty, runny chick.

It has a high SQUEE factor

Even though my birthday is in August, I'm am completely willing to FAST FORWARD to September.

All I can think about from last season is seeing Jax sit at Clay's set at the table. This preview is well done! BRAVO!!

Possum Face

I'm going to just bite one off this weekend and GO to the concert. I'll probably be dead by Sunday afternoon, but please Lord, don't take me until the race is over, OK?

So in my somewhat disgruntled state of Wednesday afternoon, I decided to poke around my statistics. I use Sitemeter becase I saw it on someone else's blog when I was just starting and of course I had to immediately copy them. I still don't know exactly what all the terms and big computer words mean but the referrals part is cracking me up and making me feel horrible all at the same time.

I have several hits from "casa de pepe" and when I tried that search myself, I think EVERYONE learned and remembered that sentence from high school. Good to know the cheese (even though it is old and moldy) does not stand alone.

Someone actually found me by searching for "boob shaper." I was 10 pages deep into that search and I gave up. That person was much more determined that I am. Kudos to you! Hope your boobs came out in a lovely shape.

"Jonesing" has turned up a couple of times. I didn't find me in that search but I do hope the jonser found help with his/her jonesing. Along that same string, "addicted to vodka" reared up and while I'm found as one of the first items, I'm surrounded by serious issue sites. That's sad. I hope you at least smiled while you were here and did eventually find what you were looking for. (Or if it was Ryan Murphy - dude, you SO OWE ME some time of my life back. I'm still PISSED over the way Nip/Tuck is ending/did end.)

I'm getting some good action from my Facebook page and it looks like I'm getting emailed about. Thanks for spreading the love ya'll.

My absolute favorite of all time referral is: frizzy haired possum. I keep picturing my hair on a possum's face or me with a possum 'do (sounds very much like a DON'T). I don't know if I should laugh or cry...myself to sleep with fear.

Dang, now when I hear this, I'm going to be singing, "Can't read my, can't read my, no he can't read my POSSUM FACE!!" And if my EVIL PLAN works, you'll be singing it too!!

To Rock, Or Not To Rock....that is the question!!

My boyfriend gave me tickets to see Kid Rock and Lenard Skynnard this Friday evening in Raleigh. Sure, I had to call him 800 times to be caller number 7 but it was so worth scoring FREE TICKETS!!

I was enjoying morning coffee this morning when I was reminded that I have this situation to deal with on Saturday.

Oh. Shit.

Do I want to play Etsy with my mother Friday morning, then drag Junior back to her house about 30 minutes after we get done to drive to my boyfriend's house to pick up our tickets, then travel another 2 hours to Raleigh to tailgate, attend the concert, drive back home, sleep for 10 minutes then try to be a productive event staff member? No, not really.

I really, REALLY want to see Kid Rock again. I've never seen Skynnard so that's kind of tugging at me as well. I DO want to raise hell without children on a Friday night. I DO want to be a functioning person on Saturday. Why do I smell cake and why do I know I'm not getting any?

I think I'm going to have to call my boyfriend and have him put the tickets back in the prize pool. I don't want the Husband to be all sad because we won't have Awesome Adult Adventure Time so I will bribe him with a trip to Outback. We'll still have to travel, but only about 20 miles AND I have a $50 gift card. It's kind of the same deal, just more local. If I sing really loudly during the car ride, it will be just like going to the concert, right?

This one time...at band camp

The last (and only) time I saw Kid Rock was about 7 years ago (damn! time flies!!) and it also fell on Motorcycle Event Day. But at least it was someone else's event so I didn't have to worry about working/helping out. I was dating a guy from out of town so we hit the event then traveled on down the road to the show.

As we made up time zooming down the interstate a car pulled along beside us and just kind of rode in the lane for a bit. I looked over and gave a polite wave and they busted out with the crazy. Waving frantically like they'd won the lotto, I looked again and they waved a mini bottle of Jim Beam at me so I stuck out my hand. Teddy scooted over to the inside of the lane, they passed me the bottle and I shot it right there on the spot. GOOD TIMES!!

Then after the concert was over, we returned to the bike and someone had stolen my helmet and my camera. BAD TIMES!!

The End.

Honest Scrap

I haven't been writing lately because I'm having tons of lovely personal issues at the moment. These issues leave me with lots of uncontrollable rage that I keep gulped down into my stomach so I don't lash out. And we all know....YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT. So I've been staying away in order to not be so acrid here. (I just looked up acrid to be sure I was using it right. Oh yeah, I'm totally using it right. UGH!)

Then Penny, The Awesome chicken-loving-living-off-the-land-soap-making lady, honors me with an award.

I'm not truly certain that I deserve ANY award at all right now (except for Most Bitchy, Awesomest Pout or Miss Passive Aggressive USA). And this award looks more like WORK than honor. But it is good work and I need GOOD work right now. Thank you Penny for the kick in the ass I needed. (Also, I swiped that pic from your link. I'm glad you had it there!)

The rules are:

1. “The Honest Scrap” award is not one to hold all to your self but it must be shared!
2. First, the recipient has to tell 10 true things about themselves in their blog that no one else knows.
3. Second, the recipient has to pass along this prestigious award to 10 more bloggers.
4. Third, those 10 bloggers all have to be notified they have been given with this award.
5. Those 10 bloggers that receive this award should link back to the blog that awarded them “The Honest Scrap’ award.

I will begin by immediately breaking the rules. That's just how I roll. After telling my Mom about this here blog (and she told her mom and ...) there's no way in HELL I'm posting any secrets here but I will follow Penny's example and share things the 7 of you who subscribe to my feed, a few things you probably did not know about me. (Seven. SCORE!! LOL)

1. If I had enough balls, time and money, I'd open a motorcycle commune. Just like in the hippie days but with scooters. Everyone would have a job suited to their skills: wrenching, body work, cooking, entertainment, etc. We would be legislatively active and promote motorcycle safety and rider education. And we'd live happily ever after.

2. I HATE SEWING!!! My mom made a ton of my clothes when I was growing up. She's really, really good at it. When I was older, mom would lay out the pattern on the material and make me cut. One time she had me cutting out patterns for a bunch of shorts and bowling shirts (which I lived in for a LONG time) and as I was cutting out one piece, I carelessly cut THRU the already cut piece laying under it. Mom just sewed across the cut and it was barely noticeable. It frustrated the hell out of me so I pretty much gave up ever learning after that. If I have any "sewing" needs now, I get out the stapler or tape. If that won't work I throw it out. Or beg my husband to fix it, because he's handy like that. Fun trivia: One of those pair of shorts was denim. They were sewn in my Sophomore year of high school. They finally blew out in 2007. It was a very sad day.

3. My MP3 player cracks me up. I love music, mostly all kinds. My favorites are of the Classic Rock (a.k.a. Your Parent's Music), disco (shut up, you like to dance too!), I Hate Everything Metal (stress relief!), rap, pop and a tad bit of country. Nothing makes me laugh harder to jam out to some Rob Zombie and have it backed up by Junior Brown. I am still pissed about not being able to find my Andrews Sisters CD after the last Sweetheart Dinner (2006?). And yes, I know EVERY SINGLE WORD on that CD and regularly sang as loud and off key as possible.

4. My dream job is working for a NASCAR team. I don't care what I'd have to do as long as I got to travel to all the races. Fun trivia: I am taller than Jack Rousch, even when he's wearing his hat. I know this because Elder Spawn and I walked beside him down Pit Road at Rockingham.

5. My ideal job is working in a bakery/restaurant/caterer. I've really discovered a love for making food lately. My small galley kitchen and sad wallet doesn't allow for too much exciting or interesting projects but damn if I don't have the basics licked. Mmmm, licking baaaaaaaaked gooooooods. I got an ice cream maker a few weeks ago. I'm still amazed at how EASY that was and wow, the recipes are ENDLESS!! Now if I can just remember to buy freakin' ICE. The KASM is getting lots of use and have discovered pound cake could be my enemy. Or at least my ass and thigh area's enemy. I still haven't made any fancy breads but I've thought about it a lot. The standard box bread mix is kind of too tasty to move on from there. My new wok is seriously woking my world right now.{insert rim shot here} I don't think I used the stove for the first two months I had it. I even made the wok cry by making SAUSAGE GRAVY in it. Deep South, meet Asia. And you KNOW Deep South was looking for Happy Ending.

6. I took two years of Spanish in high school, averaged a 90 something both years. Can't speak a sentence of it today except for "Donde esta casa de Pepe?" Not that I know a dude named Pepe or need to know where his house is.

I do remember Mrs. Turner giving us all Spanish names. I got Josephina. My mom - some 20 years later - still thinks it's hilarious to call me Josephina Augustina, and I do too. Rhyming is FUN! Naturally, we learned that George is Jorge. That has always, ALWAYS stuck with me. And it made me make an ass out of myself a few weeks ago. Check the comments - I totally called "Hurley" GEORGE instead of Jorge. DUDE, I am so terribly sorry. I realized it a few hours later and was to embarrassed to do anything about it. I'm an ass. An ass who can't speak Spanish. Jorge has an AWESOME blog and if you're not already reading it, add it to your feed reader now. Jorge seems super down to earth and like he'd be someone you'd love to hang out with.

7. I am a people watcher and jumping into the world of reading blogs has me feeling like I'm hooked on crack. I read everything from gossip, newspapers, storm chasers, photographers, mommies, cute things, dumb things, tech things, world travels, politics, medical professionals, etc. I've learned that folks pretty much have the same issues/ideas all around the world but they have better cameras and photography skills than I do. I check my reader BEFORE I make coffee in the mornings to see who's talking then come back with my java for some great reading! AND LEARNING!!

8. I'm jonesing for a kick ass camera. I studied and researched the camera we purchased when I was knocked up with Junior. And I've discovered I bought that camera ONLY for that need (endless amounts of family photos). I like taking photos of my flowers and bugs and lizards (OH MY!) and I have a hard time taking good photos of small things. Also, when those White Ibis come to visit the pond, I can't zoom in close enough to them to get a photo of anything other than a tree with white blobs in it. This photo took me about 30 tries to get the prayer in focus and it's still not a very good shot of him:

I want one of those cameras that would show the details of his hands and the ogliness of his eyes. I'm feeling very Veruca Salt about it but we don't have a checkbook like her daddy did.

9. I'm hating my husband these days, for more than one reason. I've been playing Pyramid on my Palm Z22 for about - ever - and I've never won a game. I thought I'd be nice and SHARE and asked him if he'd like to try. He said yes and I passed it to him. You know what? That bass turd WON the FIRST game he played!!! Turns out you can clear cards in MULTIPLE ways instead of just one from the pile and one on the board (so much for me reading and following directions). He was very gloaty about it and naturally, I was very pissy. It took me another TWO DAYS to win a game for myself. Also, he's hogs the house computer all the time. He's usually playing some nerd-ass Dungeons & Dragons type of games but now, NOW he's joined Facebook. I NEVER get any computer time (at a decent hour anyway) now unless I beat up a four year old for his computer time. The good part about his Facebooking is I can continue to beat him like a red-headed stepchild at Text Twist, only now I get to post a YOU LOSE SUCKA toilet bowl on his page. It's awesome!

10. I love my husband more than anything in this world. I always have, from the moment I laid my lusty eyes on him in 1990. We weren't married until some 14 years later but I have always carried him in my heart. We had an awesome friendship in those 14 years and I'm glad we found the "right time" together. He's a great dad and a good worker. He's NEVER "laid out" of work and only been out of work when we went on vacation one time (long time ago!), when Junebug was born and when his mother had a stroke. Honey, you're awesome! And I don't really care about you hogging the computer. Much.

I'm passing on this lovely award (a.k.a. punishment) to:

Educated & Poor

Weird Nursing Tales

The Girl Wonder

Glider Rider

Fancy Schmancy

Granny Grimble

View From a Cloud

Discovering Jade

At Your Cervix

Bugheart

As hard as it was to decide on 10 great blogs, I'm also going to include an 11th one, maybe Jorge will have time to see my apology!

Dispatches from the Island

So good luck with your assignment folks. Thank you again to Penny. It was nice to spend time on ME and something FUN!

GASP!!

I am very disappointed.

Let me start by saying I have been to Close Encounters on a few occasions. Before we bought our house and became river yankees, we lived about 5 miles away from CE - a straight shot down the highway. One of the most successful bike shows we ever had (this year will make 16th annual) was in their parking lot. They have the sweetest piece of asphalt in the entire county.

The owner built the establishment from the ground up, fighting many county officials (he was totally in the right, mindful of all ordinances in place at the time). It's not a bad place. Their poles are weird though. The ceilings are HIGH so the poles are mounted to the stage and it is kind of weird to watch it sway as it is being performed upon. I wonder if that affects their workman's comp rates? Also, there's a big fuzzy pink pump chair thing too. Weird. I have spent/wasted a lot of time thinking about how I could make that club better. But I've always been too chicken shit to go for it. I am ruled by a steady paycheck.

I've ended up there after a few parties because it's fun. And some of these girls are mama's trying to put food on the table. I'm smart enough to know that some of these ladies are not. The last time I went I swore I would go back with no money but a basket of sammiches because, DAMN GIRL!! Don't forget to EAT! Some of them are so skinny I bet a lap dance would feel like a stabbing.

I've only had one experience with Playmates. Playmates is a fantasy club. Let's back up a minute...back story is crucial on this one. The building used to be a crematorium (you kill em, we grill em). When the crematorium went out of business the building sat empty for a while and we spent a good amount of time watching someone work on it. Then the sign went up. And wow, did we ever get a good laugh at that one.

At the time I was dating a guy who lived out of town. He came down one weekend, we went and picked up my good girlfriend and went out for dinner and drinks. We stopped at Close Encounters for a bit and decided to head home. Playmates is conveniently located about two miles down the highway. I don't remember who suggested it but a u-turn was executed and we pulled into the parking lot at Playmates. There was some "OK, OK, be calm and act right" discussion and we went in the door. (One dude with two chicks walks into a fantasy factory...)

The foyer looked like a doctor's office complete with sliding glass window. No one was at the window so we had plenty of time to wait and read all the interesting signs posted. Their county license was displayed as well as some paperwork from the heath department. Health. Department. No, it wasn't a left over notice for the crematorium. It was a list of health rules the staff must abide by. You would be pleased to know that our county health department says your fantasy can include the staff being completely naked...except shoes must be worn at all times. Thanks for keeping me safe, clean and healthy local government. I'd be really concerned if they weren't wearing shoes.

Someone finally showed up at the window and we were advised our fantasy could be obtained for 15 minutes and $40. We were still reeling over the shoe issue and decided to leave. The trip was still entertaining even though we didn't get any fantasy action.

The Smile Spa was lovingly and carefully risen from the crumbly dusty frame of a FISH HOUSE out in the country. You wouldn't believe how much money I spent on shrimp, oysters and fish in that building. When I noticed the run-down, closed fish shack getting some TLC and a nice face lift I'd wondered how any fisherman could have spent that kind of money in these harder fishing times. Then the sign was put up and I knew I wouldn't be giving up any kind of clam monies in there. I love driving by it though, I always look at the husband and say, "You want happy ending?" in my best Asian massage spa lady voice.

I didn't even know Calabash was getting any action these days. I don't go to the Seafood Capital of the Word too often because tourists make me rage. I'll keep my eyes open though the next time I go. At least now I know I can get a massage after Johnny New Jersey drives SLOW in front of me with his left blinker on, only to slam on the brakes and instead turn right to buy $1.99 Myrtle Beach tshirts at the Waves.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary...

....what the hell is going on in your garden????

I had two of these freaky twin-squash come off the bush this week. Don't they look like baby snowmans?
Delicious, lip-smacking fried Baby Frostys. MMMMMMMMMMMMM

BEST. DOG TOY. EVAR!!

The Husband rescues traffic cones from the trash, hilarity ensues.