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!!

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.

Round Four ~ Won Tons, Manicotti & Haufbrau Haus Beer Garten

I wandered over to Speedcat Hollydale's page today for the first time. Interesting stuff.

In honor of this visit... I post a chicken!

I never realized eating in a forgein country would be so damn difficult.

First, I am the second pickiest bitch you will ever meet in your life, behind the boy of course... he'd have starved to death.

Ok, being the typical American tourist type, not to mention a closed minded, livin in the box kinda girl, I never realized that Chinese people that run a chinese restaurant in Germany wouldn't speak English.

It was odd to me that they spoke Chinese and German and not English.

Go figure, huh?

But, the place was across the street from our hotel, and smelled really, really good.

The only lucky part is the menu did have English, I can point and the chick could speak some limited broken English.

Chicken Won-Ton Soup: #3 on the menu.
Mini-Spring Roll: #2 on the menu.
Cashew Chicken: #42 on the menu.

Best Won-Ton Soup I ever have had... EVER.

Since I am afraid of anything ending in -wurst or-snitzel, I steered clear of tradtional German food.

God forbid I pork-penis-wurst or something like that.

I'm sure I'd yack.

It's not like I can translate German to English very well.

We were in Pforzheim the first several days:

So, we ate Chinese food at the same place on Sunday and Monday nights.

The Tuesday night, we switched off for some Itatlian. The spinich manacotti was yum and the wine was a-flowin.

Then Wednesday night, we were gonna give the Brazilian place a crack.

But I wussed out, paid for my beer and ran away. They couldn't speak the English and I couldn't figure out anything but shrimp from the Brazilian/German menu.

I don't do shrimp.

So, we ended up back at the Chinese place again, where we were greeted with..
"Hello. You wanta Coka Light and Hotta Tea, yes?"

With a sweet smile I tell her, "Of course and can we have the same table by the window?"

I know she had to be thinking... Crazy American bitch won't eat anything.

She's right. I have food fears.

Then we went to Hannover:

Thursday night we ate food from the hotel bar, which is always tasty with beer.

Bar food = GOOD.

Friday night, we had another awesome Italian dinner with the owner of my company.

Then to Munich:
Saturday night, I finally broke down.

Mommy & Me went to Haufbrau Haus Beer Garten in Munich.


It's one of the oldest original beer joints with 400 years o' history.

Oktoberfest was over. Missed it by a week.

But you couldn't tell it by the guy on the table who had a bucket on his head and was leading the whole place in a German ding dong sing-along.

After several pints of some the delicious brew, I was starting to pack a nice buzz.



So, I broke down and ate stewed steak smothered in roasted onions (DAYUM!!) and some kind of potatoes.

The beer was the best ever though. It didn't have that watery as piss taste to it.

Sunday night, we found us another Chinese place. It was pretty tasty and it overlooked downtown Munich..

So, I guess I totally blew the opportunity to expand my culinary palate...

I suck. If it ain't Taco Bell, I don't want it.

I do know one thing for shizzly. Germany has the corner on the beer and ice cream markets. It was grub and I had my fair share.

Foraging for Pizza, Wish Lists & Comparisons

I got home from work yesterday afternoon to find Big T building a big ass fire in the fireplace down in the love den. He takes pride in his fire building abilities and I respect that. Without his love of fire, I'd freeze my ninnies off.
He'd just got that bad boy blazin' strong when the boy came down stairs to find out what, prey tell, I intended to make for dinner because dammit, he was hungry.

"Why don't you just order pizza??" He asked with actual hope I could detect on his desperate teenage face.


"Oh hell, no. I'm not ordering pizza." I take such joy from raining on his happy parade.

"Fine. I'm goin upstairs." He gets all snappy when i rain on his parade.

"I'll be up in a minute to sling some soup on for ya, pal. Wanna lay the can opener out to expedite the process?" Inside I was gigglin like a school girl.


Eyes all rolled back in his head, "Why don't you ever make anything I like??"

That's all I needed to hear. "Um, who's fault is it we are such a picky eater? Who won't eat anything if it's not chopped, processed, formed and them flash frozen, only to come out of our freezer when you get hunger pains? Who won't eat anything that isn't a breaded piece of fake chicken, pressed and deep fried??"



"God. You are wicked." And off he goes, stomping up the stairs, making enough noise that you would think it was a heard of friggin cattle.

I win.

I smile at Big T, who remained silent throughout the pizza banter. Mmmhmm, he has to come to bed with me, he knows who's side to be on.

"Ya wanna go get a pizza?" I asked. He knew I was just dishing out a load of shit on the boy. That's how I get along with said boy. If I'm not being semi-evil with him, he thinks I'm mad. So, really I'm keeping the peace by being my bitchy self.

"Yah. I'm hungry. I'll tell the boy to come on."

Big T had been seeing commercials for CiCi's Pizza (which makes me gag and spew) and he wanted to go there, as it was on his list of things to do before he dies. *rolls eyes*

It's about 25 minutes to either location of CiCi's in Knoxvegas, so off we went.
We were tooling down the speedway in on a pizza quest at warp speed.

"What do you want for Christmas?" Big T's been on me for months about what do I want from Santa.

Always one to give a good answer, I reply...
"Baby, I got all I could ever want this year already. I have my girls, I have Lil T and now I have you, the boy and a dog. What I want didn't cost anything."

"Whatever. What do you want?? I have everything, but I still always want something. So, just tell me what you want!?!?! I've been listening, I swear to God I have and you haven't said anything or dropped any hints." He's getting frustrated.

"I'll think on it and get back to ya, ASAP." Conversation over.

I really wish he'd just go get me some kind of sentimental, mushy, big ass diamond like they show on the Kay Jeweler commercial, but I'm not gonna tell him that. He'd do it and we'd be broke until Jesus comes back.



Out of the backseat the boy comes up with this, "I think you guys act like Al & Peg Bundy. Well, except you work and don't have flamin red boofy hair."



"Do what? Al & Peg Bundy? Married with Childrens like? Have you lost your goofy teenager mind, boy?" I adjust the rearview to get a good evil look at him eye to eye.

"Well, dad comes home and sits on the couch and just listens to your crap." The boy had an opinion. Nice.

"You're dad does lots of shit around the house. I don't know where you come up with that. Look at the big ass fire blazin'. He's good at makin fires and he doesn't do that from the couch. He's all the time doin somethin to one of the cars and he doesn't do that from the couch."

"Whatever.. I'm right and you know it." He's gloating now.

"Like hell you are. If you're gonna compare us to anybody, I'd say we're more like Dan & Roseanne Conner. I work, I have an opinion about everything and I'm always right. And your dad is always tinkering around with something to look busy, works hard to provide for us, and lets me say and do what the hell ever I want."



Big T chimes in, "Besides, I look more like Dan than I do Al."

I wondered if what the boy was saying is true or not. So, I took a poll within our family. The results are as follows:

4 said we are like Al & Peg.
7 said we are like Dan & Roseanne.

My opinion is that we are some jacked up combination of the two, which is cool. Life will never be boring.



I reckon I should be glad he didn't go and compare us to Homer & Marge.

I'm Cookin with Gas Now, Baby!

I'm officially cookin with gas now... No, I don't mean the fumes that burst periodically out of T's butt from the fart war. No, I'm actually steppin in high cotton now, kids. T acquired me a new, gas grill yesterday. Ain't it cool? I pity those ladies who get flowers and jewelery. Sheer chicken perfection came off that bad boy last night. Beautifully sliced for fajitas which I shall scarf down for lunch today.

In other flatulent news, Me and Big T have been in a fart war for a little over a week. Yah, I know, that's not lady like and totally sick. Just so you know, he started that shit...(hahaha). It has been scientically proven that, in fact, my shit does NOT stink and his could peel the paint off the walls. Please don't look down on me for being childish and obscene. Thanks!
Running score: Tony 5, Me 4

How do you keep a marriage fresh? Make time to go on a date together. Get rid of the kiddies and get 'r dun. After Big T and Me saw his mom Saturday night and dropped the boy off. We were feelin a little froggy. We went to Shoney's for their sinfully rich-half frozen tasty treat... Hot Fudge Cake. Actaully it wasn't a bona-fide date, but I told him I was goin for something sweet and yummy and that I wasn't driving not even 1/10 of a mile farther until I got loaded up with some coffee.
Still yet, we had some alone time to make fun of all the people making mountain sized salads.

The Holiday Spirit kicked me right square in the ass over the weekend. I got all holly and jolly and started up with the Christmas decorations. No, I'm not redneck enough that I'm going to light them up just yet. I'm just pre-decorating in an effort to be the tackiest, most well lit house in the neighborhood. Go me! I've got more than 3,500 little twinkle lights and I fully intend to utilize every single one of them. (Once I get in the running for Tackiest Decorations of 2007, I'll post some pix).

Happy Birthday Big T

Tony's birthday was Tuesday, but we started celebrating over the weekend. When there's a birthday, it lasts through the weekend before or after, sometimes both... cuz that's the way we roll.

So, last Saturday, it just so happened that his favorite bluegrass pickers were in Maryville for their final show of this year!! Go BlueMoon Rising! You saved the day, boys, because I had no idea what to get my man, the who has every-damn thing.

So, we ventured to the Palace Theater for a knee slappin, toe tappin helluva time.
They did two one hour sets and at half time they took the time to wish Tony a Happy Happy Birthday from the stage. They also signed a t-shirt for him wishing him a good one!



On his birthday Tuesday, he was Hooter'd. He'd never been to Hooter's before and it's one of my favorite places to go.


Who doesn't love tits and ass? (Oh God, if that didn't sound sexist.. wait I'm not a man)...