Monday, December 24, 2007
Step 2 – Plan ahead where and when you will meet.
Step 3 – Tell them the front of the mall is unacceptable and you’ll meet at Ruby Tuesday’s because they serve beer before noon.
Step 4 – Meet at designated rendezvous and order two ginormous beers for each of you.
Step 5 – Race to see who can chug their beer faster; this does not frighten you because your shopping companion is a young, single guy who has NO concept what-so-ever of what it takes to raise two teenagers.
Step 6 – Rag your shopping companion relentlessly because he’s a pansy and can’t keep up.
Step 7 – Make your way out into the chaos and destruction of shopping the Saturday before Christmas.
Step 8 – Run back to Ruby Tuesday’s for one more beer because it’s frightening out there.
Step 9 – Who gives a crap, you’ve just chugged three 24 oz. beers and LIFE IS GREAT!
Step 10 – Call your 71 year old mother and slur to her over the phone that “shou neeb a rad homeb”.
Monday, December 17, 2007
You have GOT to love the South. Recently my son’s football coach at school was fired after two years of coaching the team to the state Class 1A state final for those two consecutive seasons (Class 1A……we’re kinda small). Why was the coach, an alumni, Heisman Trophy runner-up of 1991, and NFL retiree fired? Well guys, it was “God’s Will”. Yup – that’s the reason this man was fired. No sexual misconduct, no abuse of the kids, no slander, harassment, or surfing of porn on the web. No siree, God told the pastor at the school/church (private Baptist school…..leave me alone) that our much beloved coach had to go. Hmmmm, as the daughter/grand-daughter/niece of very well educated ministers, this pastor must be awfully special. Never once did I ever hear my dad, grand-pa, or uncle tell us that they were special enough to talk directly to God. God must have some spare time on his hands to advise the head of the school who should and should not coach our football team. Maybe if He spent a little less time talkin’ to the pastor we could find the end to world hunger, war, and deviant behavior. WOW, wouldn’t THAT be something! HEY! If the pastor has an in with God, wonder if he could get me a heads up on who’s gonna win the Super Bowl and the name of a good bookie.
Friday, November 16, 2007
How in the name of all that is Holy did he get a handicapped sticker for THAT?!?!? Does the red handicapped sticker hanging from the rearview mirror mean he's mentally challenged? Thanks for the laugh, Cletus!
Friday, June 22, 2007
HAPPY CHOCOLATE ECLAIR DAY! Thank you Baby Jesus, A-men.
One week from today I will be on the road headed north toward the Buckeye State to spend a week with my man. As the big guy is not actually thrilled that I will be driving 946 miles to see him instead of flying, I thought I would do the kind and considerate thing and alleviate as much fear from him that I possibly could prior to hitting the road. See, I’m sweet like that. So anywho, I made an appointment this morning to drop of my ve-hicle (southern pronunciation inserted here) “Gawaine” for his annual check-up i.e. tires rotated, oil changed, fluids and belts checked, etc. In order to arrive safely at work this morning I made arrangements to be picked up at the service station by none other than my mother, Judy-Judy with the Bubblegum Booty. Well, at 70 years of age, my mother’s driving skills are, shall we say, a bit archaic. First of all, I have worked at the same office complex for roughly eight years. My mother has lived in the same town as I for all of those eight years. So why is it when I jump in her car she asks while I’m fastening my seatbelt…...“What’s the best way to get there from here?” We do not live in a vast metropolitan area; this is at best a large town. A town that during the summer months the population drops approximately 50% as our main source of income stems from two state universities, one community college, and state legislation. Hello Judy-Judy! This is not a $64,000.00 question. In fact, there are at best three possible routes: a good one, a bad one, and an “avoid it at all costs” one. Judy-Judy chose to go with the route behind curtain number four. Now picture if you will a town’s road system that was largely designed by a group of men from ADDA, the National Attention Deficit Disorder Association. We have enough one-way roads here in our lovely town to confuse even the most experienced of drivers. “This road heads north, this road heads south, that one goes east, that one goes west by southwest at 30° 23' latitude N by 84° 22' W longitude so don’t forget your GPS.” Now, another thing our roads are famous for is the old two right-hand turn lanes. As our state is ranked 49th of the 50 states in drivers’ skills (AlaBAMa of course being the worst) everybody and their mother wants to be in the far right-hand lane, turn right, and merge across seven lanes of traffic to get into the left-hand turn lane JUST around the bend. Judy-Judy does not drive a semi. Judy-Judy does not drive an SUV. Judy-Judy is why we are ranked 49th out of 50 states for drivers’ skills. OH MY GOITER! I was suppose to keep my mouth shut not once, but twice during the twelve minute drive to the office. Oh yeah, like THAT was gonna happen. And can I tell you how condescending mothers get when they exceed the age of 65? It is not a pretty picture I’m painting here. I arrived at the back of the parking lot and asked my mother if she was going to drop me of there at the holding pond or if she would mind driving me the last 400 yards to the back of the building. Hey it’s Florida but the sun hadn’t been up too terribly long so I wouldn’t have had to utilize my spare set of clothing had she not been so kind as to swing around the office complex parking lot. However, I think she realized it was going to take a moment or two to retract my nails from the dash and remove my shoes from the floorboard so she kindly drove me to the door. Gosh, sure am glad my girl Mindy was available to take me home!
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Oh my GOITER! What?!?! Is it like Monday the 13th or something? My day started out horrible and turned into nothing but a comedy of errors. But hey, at least I have my coffee. Had tickets to take my daughter and a friend to a concert last night, couldn't get out of it had I even tried. Hawthorne Heights was here in Tallahassee but the girls failed to tell me there were FOUR count them FOUR OPENING ACTS and that the concert started at 7:00! HellOOoo, even driving as if I were Racer-X I can’t beat the traffic and make it home before 5:00 – and that is contingent upon me actually leaving work on time and not having to stop for gas and a Full Throttle. I also needed to change clothes, grab a bite to eat, slap a bit-o-face on before I would ever consider leaving the house to attend such a fabulously exciting public performance such as we were going to. Sarah, (Ally's friend) lives somewhere in the vicinity of 20 miles in the complete and opposite direction. Her mother was laying on the couch having succumbed to pain medication after receiving two fillings and a root canal so it wasn't as if I could ask her to bring Sarah to my house. Needless to say it was a tad late for this old broad when we girls finally made it home last night. Of course when you get home from an "exciting" evening such as we had you can't just crawl into bed and drop immediately to sleep, right? So I took a few moments to sit on the back porch with my book and a beer trying to unwind and recover my hearing. “Recover your hearing?” you ask in a sweetly inquisitive voice? “But why?” Well girls, the concert wasn't in the Civic Center which seats approximately 13,000.....oh no, it was in an "establishment" that measures approximately 16'x21' that was bursting with enthusiastic fans.
This morning I was a good girl and got up to turn my alarm off at 6:00 AND I also grabbed and answered the phone when my man called “just to make sure” I was actually awake. Okay, so I hit the snooze button one time, I just didn't wake up for another hour and ten minutes. GREAT! I'm just waking up and I should already be on my way to work, FABULOUS! So I grab a quick shower, throw on a dress, remember to apply deodorant, grab a cup’o joe, my lunch and my purse and…..I'm…..off! (Just for the record, flying over speed bumps at 50+ miles an hour is not recommended while drinking a ginormous cup of coffee.) I grab my phone to call my man as I do every morning on my ride to work and *PLOP*.......my phone takes a triple gainer with half twist right into my cup of coffee. What?!?! Now you tell me my phone does not know how to swim? NOW?!?! Crap - a speed bump ahead and I can't slow down......I hit the bump, my coffee flies into the air spewing forth my phone and in slow motion I pull a “007” grabbing it mid-air right as my tires touch down and my SUV shimmies and swerves as I expertly bring it under control again........okay, so maybe I didn't retrieve my phone out of the coffee exactly like that but it would have been really cool if I did, huh? Nope, goober Marn has to submerge her hand into the sickly-sweet concoction, pull her phone to safety, and begin rescue breathing and CPR. It was kinda like when puppies or kittens are born and they're not breathing so you have to hold them in the palm of your hand and fling them downwards to remove the fluid from their lungs, that's what I looked like driving myself to work this morning. Let us hope my efforts of resuscitation work and my phone doesn't ascend to Mount Technolympus, the sacred dwelling of all things technological baffling to blondes.
I've enjoyed my cousin's blog so much that I thought I
would start my own; what a great way to keep up with
family and friends so ya'll come back now, ya'hea?