Here I Am!

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



HERE

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...

First.

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.

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Agenda - Part 2

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

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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?
Yes.

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."


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Lastly-

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.


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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.

Finally.

So, here's to you kid!

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

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.

Dammit.

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...

LORD HAVE MERCY.

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.....

Anyway...

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.

Scary.

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.

SHOWER STAT!

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...

Abby.

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.

Fake Sun, Fat Rolls, Knee Slappin Funny (HNT)

Well I've never... Been the Barbie Doll type....


Yah, yah, yah.... it's true. I'm a full-figured, plus sized, curvified mama.

This fact doesn't bother me so much really. I'm hot for a curvy beyyyach!

I mean, I'd like to get back down to a smaller size, but I have no great ambition to become a size 2 cupie doll.

No. Those days have long passed my big ass by. 2 kids and Taco Bell... a snowballs chance in hell of being Barbie in this lifetime.

Which brings me to my thoughts for the day....

I absolutely love when somebody says something stupid.

People can really come off with utterly hilarious blurbs and not even know it.

In addition to amusing me greatly, it gives me something to blog about.

Seriously, kids, I don’t make this crap up. And boy, did this one amuse me…

Now I quote what I heard a chick say the other day:

"Tan fat is so much prettier than white fat."

I literally did a double take at her standing next to me as I was checking into the tanning bed.

It took everything in me not to fall over in the floor and gut laugh. Well, because I'm a sarcastic bitch.

What?!?! Tan fat? Pretty?

Hello, sweetheart. I’m here tanning, too.

And I’ll be honest. I see nothing pretty about tan fat as opposed to white fat.

Trust me on this.

I'm a walking ad for Lane Bryant fashions for women, so don't think I'm not saying something I wouldn't follow myself.

But when I look in the mirror there is nothing that makes me think that if I go and get a tan on my fat rolls that it will look any better.

Seriously, if you are fat and you have fat rolls, say like a Shar Pei puppy, it doesn't matter how tan it is.

Do you really think that having tan parts intermingled with the white fat rolls is pretty?

God bless the stand-up tanning bed, you can put your arms up in the air and alleviate those pesky white spots.

The only thing one can do to make ones fat rolls look prettier is cover them up with the proper clothing. I do.

And..... Happy Half Nekkid Thursday!!!!

Death March, Painful Shoes & A Subscription to Annoy Me Daily

Finally. A year after the proposal. Finally, after three changes in date, time and venue. Finally, after finding a wedding cake that didn’t resemble spiderman. Finally, after managing to locate and fit into a sexy yet firm suitable set of wedding underwear. Finally, we did it. We got hitched!


Of course, in our typical style, anything less than complete and utter chaos, followed by family drama and tradgedy simply wouldn't do.

I must say, my bridesmaids were stunning and wearing sexy gowns.

Nice tits, ladies! I couldn’t say it in the church, because well, it was church. But dang, everybody’s boobs looked superb in those dresses!



The boys didn’t look shabby either.



Ain’t it funny how a man in a classic black tux can make a girl weak in the knees?


It was actually beautiful, other than the bridesmaids walking to “Pray for the Dead and the Dead will Pray for you”.

I shit you not. It was not un-noticed by a single soul either.

Long story. I stress here and now, that it was an ooopsie on our part, as we didn’t listen to the concerto in full.

We thought, “Oh that’s beautiful” when we listened to it the first time and turned it off with listening to it all the way through.

So, two of the bridesmaids are walking to lovely strums of a classic string quartet, when it goes into the death march. Literally. Not good.

Sweet Jesus! I almost had a heart attack.

I decided I either need an ample amount of Jack Daniels right then and there or a mega dose of xanax as it was all I could do to keep from crying.

I’m back there yelling to Val “Oh shit! Oh Shit!!!!! Cut it off, cut it off!!”

Which he did, and we went on.

Deep breath. The Wedding March is going.

Walking with Daddy (who was thankfully on his best behavior and didn’t cause any shit whatsoever).

My daddy had come to the rehearsal drunker than cooter brown and was pure evil about my Ma. Not nice.

I FINALLY got up there to my man. The longest mile... you better believe it.

Ok, so here we go. Daddy gave me away and there I stood looking into the eyes of the man I was about to marry.


I never in my life imagined that I would have been nervous.

But I was. Xanax?? Didn't anybody find the damn Xanax???

We stood with everyone looking on… ohhhhh, the sweet, happy couple gazing at one another as “At Last” by Etta James played on.

Then, my friggin shoes started to hurt like hell and I was about to cry again.

We manage to exchange vows with me only tripping once over my tongue and having to start over.

Que the second song “If You Ever Have Forever In Mind”.

By this time, the butterflies have turned to dragons and I’m so nervous that I can feel myself turning red as a chipotle pepper getting over ripe in the sun.

I look at the pastor and say, “Is there anyway we can get him to turn this song off??”

”You really want the song cut?” He asked, looking at me like I’m crazy and then to Tony for reassurance that my head wasn’t going to spin 360 like something from the Exorcist.

“Yah, and the next one too. My shoes are killing me and I’m turning red.”

“You got it.” He said.

He got Val’s attention, music was cut. Moving right along.

We are now husband and wife.He pulled me close and laid the nicest kiss on me.

Dang. We’re in church here, pal, and you’re really turning me on.

Do you go to hell for getting turned on in church?

The only mishap was Lil T coming up to us mid-vows and yelling “Look Nana! Motorcycle.”

When he figured out everybody was lauging at him and saying, “Oh how cute.”, he took off.

So, not a single mishap that was YouTube worthy happened, dammit!

Oh wait... the death march...

I was just waiting for somebody to do something stupid.

We got it done! The ceremony itself was beautiful. Nobody burst into flames from getting too close to the unity candle, although Julie was standing pretty close and she has that sexy long hair.

But, nobody slid and fell off the stage, passed out or puked…

No puke is an awesome thing.

Next snafu:
We were in the midst of finding the photographer to make pictures after the ceremony, when we found out that the photographer had, in fact, left.

He had said to somebody, can’t remember who at this point, that he had plenty of pictures. I still don't have them.

Um. What?!?! I believe I’ll be the one to tell you when you’ve got enough damn pictures and when you can sit down and have cake!

But, I didn’t get the chance. He was gone.

Must have needed a beer or a shot of tequila or something. Whatever.

That’s when SUPERMAN appeared! My buddy Mark.

I was about to cry and there he was, yanking the camera out of the bag, snapping pictures of the wedding party, the reception, the friends, the family.

My friggin hero, I shit ya not!

Ok, so what else. The reception was interesting. There was one arguement and my cake was melting.

I pitched the bouquet, and Robyn (one of my best Pirate friends) snatched it up. She’s next anyway.



Tony flipped the garter…


Curtis (Robyn’s man) yoinked the garter! So, if it wasn’t already happening, it’s bound to happen now!

We cut cake...


drank wedding punch…


and decided it was time to cruise on outta there.

We proceeded to the truck to find it tastefully decorated with multiple condoms and window chalk.



Family-kid drama was on deck... but I am trying to forget all about it at this point.
Family-mom crisis hit with Big T's mom that day too, but all turned out well.

Anyhoo, I suppose it doesn't make any difference how we got there. I got the ring, he gets a life long subscription to Annoy Me Daily magazine for men.

Hooters, Jolly Roger, Biker Underwear & A Naughty Chicken

It's Tuesday again kids and you know what that means!!! A naughty chicken in honor of my bachelorette party and Speedcat Hollydale's quest to bring joy to an otherwise boring existence.


Ya gotta love a bunch of Pirate Chicks along with those who dare to come along for the ride.

They never let a special event go by without celebrating with cake and alcohol.

Becky and Natalie decided that come hell or high water there should be a bachelorette party the week before the wedding.

Thank God they had the sense not to have the party the night before the wedding or I would have never made it.

Yes, my friends. I got soused.

Diva + cold beer + shots of jack = hangover city

It was a beautiful evening, not too hot, not too cold. We all met up at Hooters for dinner and a drink. It was nice. Our little waitresses were super sweet, although I must say, I honestly thought I'd see more tits and ass. Not that they weren't precious in their little Hooters gear, they were. But my 14 year old neice has more boobie and butt than these poor girls had.
Meet Ashley and Felicia:


The Hot boneless chicken tenders were tasty as all hell, my lips were nice and tingly for a while though. The girls decided to get me a cute little shirt to commemorate the joyous occassion.

In general, Hooters doesn't see many bachelorette parties, but they do get hoards of bachelor parties... So, they improvised and got the Bachelor Party Shirt and turned into a Bachelorette Party shirt that all the little girls in tight Hooter's shirts signed with loves n kisses.

We decided that it was time to continue on and move the festivities to Coyote Joe where Natalie and Holly had decorated and made it look like a scene from a slasher flick with the "Wild Girls- Caution" tape.
They adorned Diva with a princess tiara which boldly stated that I am indeed the Bride to Be... and if there was any question left due to the tiara being hiddeny by my hair which was erect like a hard penis, then the big Bride to Be button aptly placed between my breasts certainly gave it away.

So, we go in and invade the corner lot of CJ, nothing different there.

Olga made a real honest to God rum cake. It was a Jolly Roger, cuz she knows how pirates roll.



We love the booty, especially rum laced booty.

It was time to have a little fun. We had games on tap, and honestly, watching them set up the Pin the Bow-Tie on the Bachelor was more fun than playing it. Amanda gave the poster a hard on when she licked it from thigh to belly-button.

And Steph gave our bachelor a nice sized penis to look at...

We had Do the Dare Cards. The name alone implies that there will be some mischief going on.

I need to state that, I, as the bride to be, didn't do anything extreme.

Quite the contrary, I was very well behaved.

Four of the six cards I drew from the deck were completed by our sweetheart of a bouncer. God bless you, Steve-O!

Diva's cards dared her to:
-get the bouncer to laugh for 100 points. Done!
-get a hunk to give her a neck massage. Done!
-get the phone number of a hot guy. Done!
-get a man to show you a hidden tattoo. Done! It was on his upper thigh.
-get the bartender to give you a free drink. Done!
-find a guy, grab his ass, and tell him he has a nice ass. Done! Twice.
(Steph was witness. Two guys, two butts, double points!)

Here are some photos of the festivities! Enjoy!

Shawna found a baldguy & kissed him on top of his head.

Natalie and Amanda took the cake when they talked one of the big biker boys out of his drawers.