Here I Am!

If you're looking for me, I've packed up and moved



Ok, I'm Pissed

Yes, I'm pissed!!!!

Blogger keeps eating my posts. I don't get it.

I fix it, and Blogger eats it again.

Blogger is a good friend in theory, user friendly.

But, I must move on.

Buh-bye, Blogger. You hateful whore.

I'm moving on over to wordpress.

Which is a hateful whore too, but at least it doesn't eat posts.

HERE is where you'll find me.


It's Friday, Kids...


I'm not beneath jacking other people's shit.

I'm really not. I have no shame.

So, since I have no morals or ethics AND I've got a huge mental block due to the side effects of having a completely irrational and totally annoying teenage boy in my house...

I'm jacking this here idea from Jay, Leighann & RLL.

Not that I'm nearly as interesting as either of them.

I'm not and don't claim to be.

Anyhoo. I've got mental block.

I'd likes to play Q & A in the same fashion as those guys.

You boys and girls ask me nice & sweet or sick & demented questions and I'll give you an honest to goodness answer.

Either that, or be a sport and give me blog ideas.

I get tired of bitching all the damn time.


Agenda - Part 2

Shamless and sad self promotion because my ego is small and I have to feel like people around me love me.


So, I pillaged through Not A Granny
post the other day and decided to jack a few questions to play with from her memememe. Cuz I'm a pirate & that's the way I roll.

If your doctor told you TODAY that you were pregnant, what would you say?
Uhhhh. Sorry Doc, I know I'm old and fat, but shit happens. Start sending Pampers STAT!

Ehhh, sappy.

Do you believe that everything happens for a reason?

Things happen and that reason is to make me completely insane and have total dependance on hot toddies and lollipops.

Can you make a dollar in change right now?
I could make change for a $5. My purse is so heavy with change I could knock somebody out with it if they were tryin to mug me.

Are you afraid of falling in love?
Why no. Being in love is better than chocolate.
Oh wait... that's sex. Sex is better than chocolate.
Or is it chocolate is better than sex???

Great, now I'm confused.

When was the last time you flew in a plane?
Home from Frankfurt Germany in October 07.
Remind me how much I hate American Airlines next time, will ya??
Delta, come to find out, gives sleepy eye masks, wine & Ben & Jerry's to EVERYBODY nowdays!!

Fuck American Airlines and their cramped seats.

What did the last text message you sent say?

and I meant it.

What features do you find most attractive in the preferred sex?
The fat wallet that buys me flowers, candy, cold beer when we go out and the occassional unexpected bling which is obviously well deserved.

Fill in the blank. I love ________.
Big T and his penis.

Would you make a good parent?

I'm a kick ass mom. I'm the neighborhood mom. I'm the mom who's always making cookies and crap just so they will all come hang out at our pad. I'm not too strict, but they don't get away with anything either.

Honestly, what’s on your mind right now?
The fact that I am doing this and watching the clock at the same time is driving me whacko like jacko.

I am the greatest time waster you will ever in your life come across. That's a promise. It's Friday, why isn't it 5:00 yet. I got liquor filled chocolates on my desk and I'd like to bust into 'em.

If you could go back in time and change something, what would it be?
I would change the fact that I have been a bottle blonde, red, brown, black (for a minute) since I was 16. I would remember at 37 what color God actually gave me.

Best place to eat?
Anyplace that serves chicken tacos, cheese enchiladas and fishbowl margaritas is alright with me. Mom & Pop type mexican places are the best. Hottest salsa.

Been to Mexico?
Si, senor. I have been to Mexico... Tijuana, Rosarita, Cabo.
BTW. There's place in Rosarita you can get cheap ass yet mighty tasty Margaritas and $10 lobster tail.... es magnifico.

Did you get in a fight with someone today?
No, but it's only 10:19am EST, there is plenty of time to get my brawl on before midnight. Especially with the attitude the boy has had lately, I workin on it.

What are your plans for the weekend?
I'm sure it will involve karaoke and drinkin beer.

If your significant other asked you to marry them TODAY, what would you say?

"We're already married, you dork."



Oh God. It's Friday.

Not THANK GOD... but Oh God...

Am I the only person alive who dreads weekends?

Two days at home with the boy and I'll be having a psychotic episode.

Pass the fucking Xanex.

Have a good weekend, Boys & Girls!


Horrible Storms & A Sweet Happy Birthday

I'm sure by now everyone has heard of the horrible storms that ripped through the south yesterday afternoon through late last night.

Tornados and high winds didn't damage unknown to many small communities scattered throughout western/middle tennessee.

It wasn't until morning, upon the rising of the sun, that the damage to a small community called Green Grove in Macon County, Tennessee.

My son-in-law's grandparents and uncles live in this small town, along with several of his mom's high school friends.

The grandparents are doing ok for now, but it appears it will be 3 - 5 days before they get electricity back. This creates issues because she's on oxygen.

The tornado swept less than 50 yards from their house, taking their tabacco barn.

The house survived vitrually unscathed.

The uncle didn't fair as well. He lost everything to the ferocious storm.

His house. His barn. His tractor.

He is one of the stubborn ass people who never leave when a siren or alarm goes off.

He is the one that, come hell or high water, will stay put.

It nearly cost him his life.

His house collapsed around him.

He spent all night, in the dark still aftermath, trapped.

They found him shortly after day-break with few minor injuries.

The friends weren't as lucky.

They didn't hear the alarms or alerts on TV.

They didn't have time to run or hide or find shelter.

She was found in her home. He was found approximately 200 yards away from the house.

Please take a minute to consider a few things:

1. Do you know what to do if a disaster strikes your area?? Where to go?
2. Do you have emergency supplies stocked up somewhere safe??
3. Do you have bottled water, batteries & a flashlight??
4. Do you have a certain spot where you & your family will meet up should you get separated?

I'm sitting here thinking about my daughter's inlaws and it's times like these
when disaster really hits close to home.

I wonder if technology will ever be able to pinpoint trouble coming early enough to warn people. Warn them early enough to find safe shelter.

Very scary.

Please keep all of our blog friends that I know of in the south in your thoughts and prayers... Chuck, Flat Coke & Flies, Real Live Lesbian, and Mushy.


Today is Miss A's birthday!!

Seventeen years ago today she made her first appearance into this cruel, hateful world.

The brat didn't want to come out.

So, I got sick of it and schedule the doctor to go in and get r' dun.

Three hours, an epidural, a psychotic episode on my gramma, and a severe alergic reaction to demerol later... there she was.


So, here's to you kid!

May your blush be rosy, my your shoes be many and may your boyfriend be generous!

Just think. Only 4 more years and we'll have you a kegger!

Mommy loves you!


Nekkid Chicken, Clone Production & Damn Doctors

OMG!!! It's Tuesday!! Nekkid Chicken Tuesday as hosted by our beloved Speedcat Hollydale.
Skip right over there, ya here??

Big T and I started talking about creating a clone shortly after we married (4 months ago).
This is great news and I couldn't be any more tickled for real.

Growing a mini-T in the oven. It would be a beautiful thing.

So, what's so sad about about it, you might be asking.

Well, I'll tell ya.

I decided with my advancing age (an astounding 37 years), that maybe I should go see Dr. Brad and get official clearance that my oven is still capable of baking without undercooking or burning the buns.

Now don't you fret, kids.

The news is nothing Earth shattering.

Just a big FAT reality check.

1st. I'm getting old.


If a body is in the 35+ age group and goes to the OB/GYN and tell them that you're gonna have hot monkey sex with the intention of procreatation...


Red flags start flying up, sirens start sounding throughout the office, and a big fat sticker goes on your chart.

In fact, because I'm in the 35+ age bracket (apparently well into middle age), I will have to go through the joys of doctor visits nearly double what I did with my last clone (16 years ago).

2nd. Dr. Brad looks at me all serious during the consultation after the exam and says, "We strongly suggest you drop around 50 pounds before actively pursuing pregnancy."

*blink blink*

I sat there for a minute.

Depressed already that I am old and I saw the sticker stating so on my chart....
I decided to ask Dr. Brad, "So, why don't you just tell me I'm old and fat?
Wouldn't that be exactly what you're saying?
Besides, you aren't telling me anything these crows feet around my eyes and the scale haven't already disclosed."
And he goes, "Well, no. It's just that with your age.."

"Fine, I'll go to the gym. But I think you should just start being honest with your patients.
Old and fat, buddy."


Big Upsets, Barn Dancin, Bob & Back Flashin

Yes kids, it's the day after Superbowl Sunday and if'n you're a football nut you're either stoked because the Giants pulled the rug out from under the Patriots or bummed and depressed to the point of needing psychiatric help and a lollipop.

Sorry boys.

It's kinda cool that the Mannings rock balls like they do with Peyton being a superhero in the likes of Aquaman around these parts.

I'm not a huge Pro ball fan at all.

College ball is a different story, can't pull me away from the TV on Saturday all fall.

I pulled for the Patriots for one reason: The boy.

I knew if they didn't win that the boy would need a visit to the shrink this morning and a mild sedative.

Not to worry. Dr. Mayhem said it appears that he will only need the meds for the next week or so and he'll be ok.

It's over. Put on your big boy panties and go on.

Enough of that.

So, me and Big T have found a new watering hole/dive to kick it in.

It's less than a 2 minute drive from our palace.

This is a definite plus, because after I've drinkin ungodly amounts of alcohol, being chauffered too far makes one feel the need to yack...

It's a cool little place we found a few weeks ago, quite by accident.

They gots the karaoke and not one of the singers sucks balls!!

Yes, friends, if you go to karaoke at the wrong place you might suffer bleeding ear syndrome.

Anyhooodle, it's called "My Place"... cute name, huh??

I try explaining that to my BFF who was coming to meet us there..

Holly: "So, where ya gonna be?"

Me: "My place."

Holly: "But I thought we were goin out."

Me: "We are, you dork."

Holly: "But you said you're gonna be at your place."

Me: "No, I said I was gonna be at My Place."

Holly: "Ok, tell me where the hell I'm supposed to meet you dammit!!"

Me: "At My Place. I'll be at My Place for fuck sake!!!"

Holly: "Ok, I'm on my way. We'll pick you up."

Me: "Gonna be kinda hard to do since I'm not gonna be home."

Bless her heart. She's my best friend, but soooo easily confused.

Reminds me of that super swell Abbott & Costello thing "Who's on First"...

So, we finally get it all straight and make it there.

We get out cozy little spot in the corner. It's set up just about like a living room would be.

Finally get my beer from the beer nazi. The Bitch...

We were sharing the corner with "Bob" and another couple.

Bob is an older gentleman who we've seen dancing every weekend we've went there.

Bob can dance. Bob was having trouble finding someone who could remain standing up straight as he twirled them around the dance floor.

Bob = good dancer
Assorted partners = not so much

Now, Diva knows how to get out there and shake what her mama gave her.

For a white girl, I'm loaded down with Rhythm.

Yes, I can line dance, but I'd rather be dancin freestyle to somethin with a wicked beat and strobe lights.

Not sure where it came from.

Maybe my mom was foolin around, cuz my daddy certainly hasn't got a drop of ass shakin in him. Never has.

So, Bob decides its my turn.

Too late, Bob, old pal. I'm already drunk.

Bob still grabs my hand and off we go. Fine. His fault if I yack on his shoe.

I didn't spew my brew, but I was dizzy and glad it was over, and as an added bonus, I danced well.

Bob was impressed. I fear he'll drag me often.

Anyways, I was sitting there trying to compose and breathe, when some old boy jumps up and starts singin "I Likes It, I Loves It" by Tim McGraw.

This song sends my alcohol soaked brain in to flash back city.

I used to run around at this place called Cotton Eyed Joe.

It's a saloon type place, only bigger. The DJ sits in the cab of a semi. Very cool.

So, they line dance at this place. Alot. To everything.

Ever seen an old boy with a belt buckle bigger than a dinner plate bust a line dance move to Outcast "The Way You Move"?

Humorous, unless you're drunk as a skunk, then it's knee slapping hilarity at its finest.

There is this dance. The Barn Dance.

This is where you find a partner and go to the dance floor. Two rings are formed, men on the outside, ladies on the inside....

The outside ring moves one way, the inside ring moves the opposite way. The partner switch is on.

It's a twisty turny dance. Which we have already established is a bad thing when I've had a few.

So, about half way through this dance, I look at my current partner as he spins me back in.

I'm green.

I'm gonna yack.

He grabs be by the hand a runs me to the women's bathroom and shoves me in.

I didn't yack on his shoes. He was lucky.

And a gentleman to shove me in the bathroom like that.

Hit me up.. I'm shamelessly whoring my bloggie!!


Body Wash, Razors & Good Hair Days

As most Saturday mornings go, I drank way too much Washington Apple on Friday night and woke up feeling like something my cat yacked up.

Blindly, I wander through the lair to the bathroom where my downstairs coffee pot lives.
1/4 cup fresh ground kona beans
+ 10 cup aqua
100% delicious caffiene rush

I AM top barista even in a hungover state.

I'm only as good as the java I brew... which is mighty damn fine.....


That's when it happened. I turned around and my eyes opened just in time to catch a glimpse of the corpse looking back at me in the mirror.


Dear God, who knew middle age would be swift and evil on a Saturday morning?

Last night's make-up looks like water paint on my face now.


Hot water streams down over the shower poof which is now cocked, locked and ready to rock with Black Vanilla Current body wash.

*sniff sniff*

Eyes fly open. Wide awake instantly.
YES!! A gift from the shower gods!!

Make up removed... thanks Clinique
Hair de-sprayed... thanks Aveda
Smooth legs....... thanks Soliel razors

I feel human again.

So, I proceed to dry my mop.

As a rule, my hair is short and way out of control.

Especially when I help it along with all the crap in my cabinet.

And the hair-do god looked down and smiled, and it was all good.

Now, I don't know about ya'll, but I noticed how the whole tone of my day is set forth by whether my hair behaves or not.

I mean, when I'm having a good hair day, I feel like a Disney princess prancing with my little animal friends in the forest all happy and shit.

But oh hell..... look out if the hair gods don't shine down and decide to play a practical joke.

They don't know who they're dealin with...

Which brings me to this morning. Yah, the jokin started early.

I showered and blow dried and hit it up with product....

No good. Bad day.

Accept, I have a rook card in my pocket...


The love of my life on days like these...

My hair dresser..

Abby is my hero.

This is Abby. She's always happy and she does the best scalp massage...

See, she knows me. 8 years doing my hair.

It took her 5 years and a hotline number to keep me out of the haircolor aisle at Wal-Mart.

She fixed some hellacious bad botched hair color jobs.

She works right next door from my office.

I go in there without an appointment holding scissors and a box of Wal-Mart hair color and she springs into action like the The Bionic Woman.

"Grab the box of bleach from her hands, STAT!!!" and off to work she goes, being my protector against the hair gods.

She loves me. I tip well.

Therefore I don't even need an appointment. God bless her.

The moral of the story is... be nice and tip your hair dresser well.

Chancing a bad hair day is nothing to trifle with.