Spawnette Is Learning To Drive

Don’t really need to say much more than what’s expresses through the photos below.

What A Lovely Drive!

Well THAT'S Gonna Leave

A Mark in The Dash

Hangin' On For Dear Life!

Actually, she’s not that bad of a driver any more. I was very comfortable with her behind the wheel.....because we WERE in a neighborhood with no lines on the roads and NO other cars in the streets. She even came to a complete stop at all stop signs. And she waited and waited and waited and waited and waited and waited and waited for ALL of the traffic to pass us by.

Any Questions?

I was complaining, and none to quietly, about having to go to meetings where nothing is accomplished because everyone has their own idea of work-environment utopia. (My idea of a work-environment utopia does not involve, well, it doesn’t involve a whole lot of things at all, thank you very much. We’ll discuss Cocoa my pool boy at another time.) Have you notice that those tremendously mind-numbing meetings inevitably end with: “Are there any questions?” Well yes, Frank, you ball-bashing hypocritical hater of women smarter than your third-grade prodigal son, I DO have a question or two.

What exactly is the gestation period of the Tibetan Yak?

If I yell at my kids and neither one listens, did that bear shit in the woods?

How does one “knick knack patty wack” before giving a dog their bone?

Do you give your dog a bone, Frank?

Frank, when did you know your wife was entering menopause and does that bruise on the side of your face, the one that has the approximate circumference of a cast iron skillet, yeah that one? Does it hurt if I touch it like..this?

Has your boss found out you like to wear ladies clothing when you’re not here at the office?

What should I ask the Home Depot guy for when I go to purchase something to fix my mother’s kitchen floor? She wanted us to move her fridge so that she could clean under it before her new one arrived tomorrow so the delivery guy wouldn’t see how dirty it was underneath her old one. She told my kids to just “pull it out, there’s wheels on it” and they tore up her floor. What should I get to fix it?

Did you return that call to your doctor? He said your STD test results were back and he REALLY needed to talk to you.

Is that your wife leaving on the arm of the CIO? She looks good; she lose some weight? She seems happy!

When I hold up these three fingers and you read between the lines, what do you see?

Yes, Frank, I have a couple of questions.

All In The Family

This past weekend the spawn spent time with FAPOS (acronym for Fat Ass Piece Of Shit) or, as I usually refer to their dad, Satan. He doesn’t live here in town so they only have to see him (oops, did I say that) every other weekend. As he was not in town for their birthdays a week and a half ago, a party was planned for his side of the family to get together and celebrate spawn’s and spawnette’s birthdays. Now before eyes start rolling and heads start shaking, I need to fill you in and let you guys get to know “the other side of the family” before you start to judge.

I. Love. My. Ex.’s. Parents. Big Daddy and Grandma are two of the most wonderful people I know. I never married their only off-spring but to me they are still my family. FAPOS and I split up approximately fourteen years ago and had it not been for his parents, our lives (the spawn and I) would have been extremely difficult. It goes to prove that even though we are well educated, loving, compassionate, and God-fearing people, there’s no guarantee our kids will be. Crap, that means my children still have the capability of turning into serial killers, arsonists, or stock-brokers.

So anywho, back to the party. You already know I’m from the South. Big Daddy is one of three locals left that is actually a native of our “Just This Side Of The Georgia State Line” town. Grandma was born and raised in Alabama. As you can imagine, it’s a totally different dialect when we’re visiting their home. Now, the birthday parties aren’t just for parents and grandparents, no-siree-bob! We invite the whole family: aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, the whole kit n’ kabootle. And can the family arrive just baring gifts? No, they bring along with them any livestock within arms reach as they jump into their cars on their way across town. The finally tally was as follows: one mom, one FAPOS, one grandfather, two grandmothers, three aunts, three uncles, one niece, four nephews, three dogs, three kittens (that were trying to be handed off to any unsuspecting family member), and four baby chickens. Chickens, I say…..CHICKENS! Someone brought frickin’ chickens to my childrens’ birthday celebration!

Hey, at least I knew what we were having for dinner.

You Wanna WHAT??? NOW?!?!?

CRAP!

I finally have things to talk about other than men in kilts and my dog and WHAT HAPPENS? Meetings! I hate meetings! They take up way too much of my time and for what? Nothing! Nothing ever gets accomplished in a room of people that all have their own opinions, their own idea of what should be done and how to do it. Heck, we all know when they get back to their office they’re gonna do whatever they want to anyway. Stop with the meetings, already; I got things to blog about and you’re wasting my time! I should be in my office with the door closed blogging up a storm but nooooooo, YOU SCHEDULED A MEETING!

Ode To The Poopster

Many of us are pet owners but what I’m about to say, most of you will disagree with. My dog is the BEST dog in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD. Yea, yea, yea, I know you think your dog is better than mine but – and I say this with all the love I can muster – your dog’s not even close.

When I picked "The Coop" out at the pound and brought him home, I had no idea what he was other than canine. He actually looked part Jack Russell and part Saint Bernard. What he turned out to be is nothing short of perfection.

Okay, those that have met him know he’s a couple steps shy of perfect but who wants a perfect dog anyway. Cooper is smart, funny, goofy, sloppy, dorky, and lovable. He snores, smacks his food, dribbles water all over the floor when he drinks….from the toilet….and only from the toilet…and he clinks his cookie jar if I’m not fast enough getting him fed. He weighs just under a hundred pounds but loves more than anything to spend an evening in your lap. He cuddles and snuggles and has no idea the couch is not meant for him. He stays out of the garbage but loves to lay in a pile of clean clothes….that’s he knocked to the floor….”accidentally”. He adores kids and friends but is leery of strangers. He barks really loud if he's never met you but always from behind my legs. If “mommy” isn’t there Coop is straight out the doggie-door and into the yard where it’s safe.

Yep, no other dog compares to The Super Duper Pooper Cooper; I wouldn’t change him one bit.

I Really Need To Get Out More

Make yours @ BigHugeLabs.com

Share where you have traveled to and visited. Anyone up for a road trip?

Celebrate Good Times, COME ON!

I just snorked some coffee and it really, really burns.

As you may already know, I am a Google whore.
♪ ♪ I love Google and Google loves me ♪ ♪

Wandering around the vast wastelands found in the O’Googula Nebulous, I ran across a bit of information I thought I’d pass along. In the spirit of Earth Day and Arbor Day, a group of hippified retired sideshow performers have designated May 3rd as “World Naked Gardening Day”.

I don’t know about you, but naked gardening in my neighborhood is truly not something I want to endure. I’m surrounded by post-menopausal or primordial women and deviant, crotchety, dirty, old men. (Except for Jimmy the Gardener who’s hung like a horse and wears REALLY, REALLY tight, white pants.) Do I really want to see Mr. Schnifflehauden three doors down out front gardening in “all his glory” handling his hoe and trimming his bush?

Nope, not on my street.

Cultural Events In A Small Southern Town

I live in what most of you would deem “Small Town America”. Not only does ours embrace a small town atmosphere, but that small town happens to be in the Deep South.

It’s not really as bad as it sounds, at least not most of the time. Standing in line at the grocery store there’s never a stranger in front or behind you. Cars actually come to a stop and let you cross at designated crossing zones; zones that are at random spots along the streets and not at street corners. You get a bit of road rage due to the fact the “engineers” that designed the roadways here in Tallahassee were a group of men from ADDA, the National Attention Deficit Disorder Association. Here is an example of their handiwork:

All in all our “Florida With a Southern Accent” of a town is a mighty great place to live. Unless you enjoy the opera, symphony, or any type of museum that does not include trailer parks, camouflage, or NASCAR. Scanning the local events calendar for ANYthing to do this weekend that would get me out of the house and away from housework I was reminded that cultural activities are on a good day….lacking.

How can this be? Tallahassee is the capital of Florida; they must have some wonderful events not only in the city but in the surrounding areas as well. Let’s take a look at some of our annual events that draw the largest crowds and bring in the most revenue:

Red Hills Horse Trials – This event is a World Cup Qualifier and part of the USEA Gold Cup Series that takes place in our area every March. The Horse Trials features a cross-country course, a variety of formidable obstacles, including water, banks and ditches, which wind through an arboretum. (Translation: Horses carrying riders across the landscape while jumping over stuff.) Raise your hand if you want to go to an outside event just as our mosquito season is beginning to watch a horse run by every 45 minutes. It’s almost as bad as a NASCAR race!

Next we have the Redneck Games. This includes redneck horseshoes (the tossing of toilet seats for accuracy), butt crack contests, armpit music, mud pit belly flops, and bobbin’ for pigs feet. CLASSY!

What?!?! This isn’t the event for you?

How about the Mullet Festival, Mule Days, Rattlesnake Round-Up, or Po’ Boys Annual Crawfish Festival. I’ll tell you this, we never lack for a reason to celebrate with food. And speaking of food, some of my favorite festival foods include anything that fits in a giant vat of oil to be deep-fried, food items derived from pork, and funnel cakes. This weekend I will be celebrating in the “cozy” little town of Havana, Florida (Pronounced HAY-vanna) browsing the vendors and artisans at the Havana Bead, Jewelry, & Art Extravaganza.

WOO HOO and YEEHAW…..wish you were here!








I will say that even our calendar of events doesn’t have something as fabulous as the Roadkill Cook-Off in Marlinton, West Virginia.

I'm Almost Done....I Swear

I know, I know, you guys are all getting tired of seeing men in the kilt. Oh wait; this is my blog so tough! Wow, am I a “Little Miss Meanie” or what?!?!

Suck it up and just enjoy, after this weekend my kilt appetite should be suppressed for a little while. At least we hope.

In honor of all the bare-legged and bare-assed men I shall encounter tomorrow, I’d like to share with you a few more sights to sooth our turbulent souls:

Even the famous show how good one can look:

There, isn’t that better? Doesn’t that make you wanna go out and spank a manly bum or two? HEY! You in the Black Watch! “GIT yer ASS over here and lemme TOUCH it!”

I…cannot…wait…to…embarrass…my…kids.

mmmwwwhhhaaaahahaha

Well CRAP!

I was wrong....

not EVERYone looks good in a kilt.

Thursday Thirteen - Thirteen Reasons To Love The Kilt

1. A kilt looks good on anyone.

2. They look even better on men.

3. Men with work boots and heavy socks bunched up.

4. I LIKE wearing mirrors on my shoes.

5. A kilt is probably the most masculine article of clothing a man could wear.

6. You don’t have to worry about tearing out the knees or the bum.

7. You can dress them up or go casual, we really don’t care.

8. They come in any color you could possibly conceive.

9. I quote Mel Gibson as William Wallace in Braveheart when I yell …"Freedom!"

10. Who doesn’t like their man going commando?

11. Going commando and everyone knowing it.

12. A kilt provides free air conditioning on those hot summer days.

13. Women LOVE a man in a kilt.

....crap, that makes fourteen, doesn't it?

I Spy.......

I’m preparing for a weekend of weak knees and lots of drool. No, I’m not getting a root canal first thing Saturday morning. No siree, ladies, I’m getting ready to be the first in line at the gates of the fairgrounds for the Annual Scottish Highland Games and Celtic Festival. My mouth is watering just thinking about all of those men in the kilt. Never been to a festival such as this before? Well let me share a thought or two so that you can judge for yourself whether or not this is the thing for you.

A few hundred men dressed in the kilt indicating their clan or sett by their tartan or “colors”. Now heed me well, a kilt is NOT a skirt. A kilt is a manly-man form of outwear with not much underwear included. A kilt actually comes in different forms such as a great kilt or a pleated kilt. Does it really matter which one a man wears so well as he wears it well? (Who needs Dr. Seuss?) What was I saying? Oh yes, a man and his kilt is a beautiful thing, especially on a windy day. But alas, my friends, we don’t need a “stiff” breeze to brighten our day; we just need to sit our happy bottoms on a blanket in the grass that surrounds the field of athletic competition.

For those that have never had the privilege of experiencing the athleticism of our Celtic men, here are a few of the events taking place this Saturday:

The Tossing of the Caber – A caber is a 16 – 20 foot long log tossed end over end. Yes ladies, the bonny lads bend down to grasp the end of their post, balance it for leverage and heave that pole of theirs with the hopes of it landing perfectly aligned at “twelve o’clock”.

The Hammer Throw – Metal ball attached to a pole weighing 16 pounds or 22 pounds depending on whether or not they’re a heavyweight or light-man. They will start off s-l-o-w-l-y, spinning faster and faster to gain momentum then TOSS that hammer with everything they got.

We also have The Weight for Height Toss, The Weight for Distance Toss, and The Sheaf Toss – all of these events involve swinging and swaying to gather force and ending with the release of their piece of equipment throwing with all of their might be it straight up or straight out; who cares?!?!


What is a sheaf, you ask? Really girls, who cares when this is the view we get? With all of the bending down and spinning around you will soon become an expert on how a kilt is “properly” worn. Thank goodness they serve up cold beverages early ‘cause it’s gonna take a lot to cool my ass down! Those cold beverages one consumes are also helpful when one wants to take a guilt-free stroll through the vendors and artisans. I tend to buy A LOT of hand-crafted jewelry this time of year.



(A sheaf is a burlap bag filled with hay that weighs 16 – 20 pounds and is tossed over a bar with a pitchfork. The highest toss wins.)

Nothin' But a Good Time

PLUS

EQUALS

OF

Sweet Baby Jesus, is reality TV awesome OR WHAT?!?!?

She's.....ALIVE

I’m back from the living dead. At least it feels that way. For the last two weeks it’s been one thing or another.

The first week in April I was hog-tied and shipped to the Land O’Mickey for training. Training in Orlando? That must have been great! What? Your hotel was AT A MALL???? Awesome!

Nope, not awesome, I didn’t get to shop much and the one time I made it to the mall, I was…and I’m not afraid to say this…. too tired to shop. I just wanted to hit the food court, grab a gyros, hork it down, and get back to my room for peace and quiet. No T.V., no music, no group of grown men trying to out-do the next with some big, grand idea of how we should go about saving the world in the event of a hurricane. (I forgot to mention I was in training for Hurricane Preparedness. “Target Capabilities: A Companion to the National Preparedness Guidelines” by the U.S. Department of Homeland Security.) Can I tell you how awesome and awe inspiring government agencies are? My manual was 590 pages thick. That 590 pages, people! I can see it all now:

Hurricane Cooper, a category 5 on the Saffir-Simpson Scale, has just decimated a swath of land from Miami, up through Orlando, and exiting the State of Florida via Tampa Bay. Millions are left homeless, injured, with nowhere to go as designated shelter locations have been leveled and the necessity of Special Needs Shelters is not being met; patients are being transported out of state. A small sub-division just outside of Ft. Lauderdale has been totally and completely cut of from civilization for six days. Help finally arrives. A transport carrying water, food, and medical supplies has breached the natural barrier of palm trees and homes destroyed by the storm. Little Ms. Heffelfinger runs to the truck on her spindly, arthritic legs sobbing for joy that help has found this tiny isolated neighborhood. “Please, we need water; we haven’t had any fresh water in four days! Thank you, thank you, oh God bless you all!”

She is greeted with this:

“Step away from the vehicle, ma’am. We are required to follow standard operating procedures here. I repeat, step away from the vehicle. We must find and locate what exactly our SOP is for this situation and are required to reference this manual. Return to the wreckage you now call home and we will be with you as soon as possible.”

Yeah, Mrs. Heffelfinger will really appreciate that. Bet she has an eighteen inch sawed-off Browning stuck down the back of her apron and is ready to take our entire team out for one bottle of water.

Thanks guys, great manual!

Once the training was over we headed back to Tallahassee arriving home a little after nine Wednesday evening. I grabbed spawnette, threw her into the truck and we drove back to central Florida for a long weekend with my sister. (Spawn was at the beach with his buddy for spring break so it was mommy-daughter time for me.) As we arrived so very late into the evening and I was still a little wired from the pot and a half of coffee I drank to wash down the no-dose, I really needed a shower to wash away that icky travel glaze one gets from riding in a car too long. I jumped into the shower at 2:16 a.m., quickly washed off, and by 2:31 was totally and completely covered from my chin down, in a red bumpy rash. It was NASTY!!! Nasty and itchy! What the hell was this? I’d never in my life had anything so gross...except for maybe that one time, when I had what looked like thousands of mosquito bites along with ringworm after being in the field too long right after Charlie. That was really gross. I mean worms? Under the skin? EEWWWW…Anyway, my sister and I had wanted to take the collective spawn to the beach, hang out by the pool, and just have a relaxing weekend. Nope, not gonna happen. Every time I so much as walk into the sun the rash raised it’s ugly head swelling three times its size and burning my tender, oh so fair skin. I – was – lovely! Thank goodness my sister has a pool and didn’t mind me swimming after dark. But you know what? The pool light wasn’t working and it’s really kinda scary swimming in a dark pool and not being able to see what’s swimming with you below the surface.

Oh well, we had a great time hanging out and eating entirely too much. Hey, one has to compensate for disappointment, you know?

Back to work last Monday preparing for a couple more days of hurricane preparedness. We were “gifted” with a new tracking system and guess what else! That’s right, folks, no training! Just another fun-filled time courtesy of different government entity! YEAH POLITICS!

Wednesday...last week...that tiny little ol’ cough my niece and brother-in-law had while spawnette and I were visiting? It wasn’t little and it wasn’t just a cough. It was a “lay your miserable ass down on the couch because you won’t be moving for the next four days” cough. I think I was able to gather enough strength to pee two times in the four days I was knocked flat on my padoobies. But I think I lost about three pounds so that’s cool, right?

And to top it all of, yesterday afternoon while I was hacking, yanking, and slaughtering the ivy that’s trying to mate with my brick house, I found an infestation of microscopic, itty-bitty, I couldn’t take a picture because my camera isn’t cool enough bugs. They’re red, tick-shaped (I freaked out because I thought they were ticks at first) and they leave a red smear behind when you squish ‘em. I was outside freaking thinking “GOSH….how much more do I need to clean here people???? I’m not that dirty but now I got these?!?!? Come on….I’m tired......HOLY CRAP ALL THE WINDOWS ARE OPEN AND THEY CAN WALK RIGHT THROUGH THE SCREENS!!!!!”

Found out it isn’t just me. They are e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e. Home Depot and Lowe’s both had record sales this weekend from people all over town trying to kill these swarming yet oddly pretty mites. Fairly certain they're clover mites which don't bite and should be gone sometime soon. Aren’t they pretty? (That’s a dime, by the way)

So…….how was YOUR week?

Thursday Thirteen - Thirteen Reasons We Love To Hate Florida

1. Palmetto Bugs (They fly and can grow up to two inches long...look how BIG that sucker is!)

2. Dinner plate sized mosquitoes

3. Love Bug Season

4. Tourists

5. Spring Break

6. Hurricanes

7. Rednecks (This is actually my brother “bobbin’ for pigs feet”)

8. Humidity so thick you can cut it with a knife

9. Lightning Alley (Area between Tampa and Orlando)

10. The Shell Outlet

11. Retirees

12. Yucky, stiff grass

13. Palmetto Bugs (I have to list these guys twice!!!!)

Under Construction

Been away for training - getting ready for the up and coming hurricane season. Will fill you in soon!