tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2902742571603404762024-03-13T04:31:28.386-04:00This is my life.......so be it!Single working mom of two teenaged kids currently living paycheck to paycheck who spends every spare moment sitting on her back porch with a cheesy piece of garbage book, a cigarette and a cup o' hot joe.....there's more of us than you think.Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.comBlogger170125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-19527277297434252032020-11-18T08:54:00.003-05:002020-11-18T08:54:47.917-05:00This Is A Test<p><span style="font-family: arial;">This is a test to see what kind of replies I get just for shits and giggles. And yes, this IS Her Royal Highness.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I can't believe this thing is still live!</span></p>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-9507484456333483672012-01-31T14:48:00.002-05:002012-01-31T14:52:04.417-05:00Don't Piss Off A Southern Girl<div align="justify">Lonely - A powerful feeling of emptiness and isolation; feeling disconnected and alienated from other people.</div><br /><div align="justify"><br />That’s me, lonely. My life away from the computer is full and content but I miss my cyber family. I loathe my inability to access friends and family from my fingertips but alas, this dilemma has yet to be resolved. </div><br /><div align="justify"><br />I miss you…..you know who you are…..I chased a guy down in the hallway here at work today and told him to GET MY SHIT FIXED! The countdown has begun. It’s not nice to piss a southern girl off, just sayin’.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDGX6IUc1aDc-5DWVG26O36PYzRAcE7BTHvwzQtmdqpkQsX_NtJx8_fDoJrUhyphenhyphen4kambe8mLDvWUyVNdk3AjriJYD9ENRFg6xGzB5wScv4b8oo7crLB5shtzcgebMteS7LERgyWGcBA98_x/s1600/girls+with+guns+copy.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703885615303816754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDGX6IUc1aDc-5DWVG26O36PYzRAcE7BTHvwzQtmdqpkQsX_NtJx8_fDoJrUhyphenhyphen4kambe8mLDvWUyVNdk3AjriJYD9ENRFg6xGzB5wScv4b8oo7crLB5shtzcgebMteS7LERgyWGcBA98_x/s320/girls+with+guns+copy.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div></div>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-9529060095515008342011-09-14T10:04:00.001-04:002011-09-14T10:04:56.781-04:00I had no idea....they had yet to delete my blog. Maybe I should rethink and start writing again.Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-69445578772068567812010-03-25T08:59:00.009-04:002010-03-25T09:07:48.290-04:00Hey Mambo! Mambo Italiano!<p><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lGDUmGlMJzU&hl=" width="480" height="385" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" fs="1&"></embed></p><p align="justify">I love the pizza dough tosser in the Visa <em>“Hey Mambo”</em> commercial. I thought to myself how cool it would be to find out who this guy is and where he makes pizza so that maybe one day soon I could hope in the car and take a road trip just to watch him toss back a few…..pizza crusts. The search didn’t take long and I discovered way more than I thought I would. His name is <a href="http://www.uspizzateam.com/profile_hermosillo.php">Juan Hermosillo </a>and he is currently the captain of the United States Pizza Team.</p><div align="justify"><strong>WHAT?!?!???</strong> Did you <strong>know</strong> there was a <a href="http://www.uspizzateam.com/profiles2009.php">United States Pizza Team</a>?</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">No really, these guys<em> (and gals)</em> travel the world competing in freestyle throwing receiving points for difficulty, creativity, etc. And get this….the team is from <u>ALL OVER!!</u> Brooklyn, Orlando, Columbus, Chattanooga! How cool is that? When not competing you can visit these guys where they work. I say we pick a day and all go out to a restaurant in a city close to us and compare notes. Anyone game?</div>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-65346072699607025242010-03-23T10:33:00.008-04:002010-03-23T10:46:33.982-04:00Soft-Core Porn and Primetime Television<div align="justify">For those that know me and know me well, it comes as no surprise when I tell you I am a reality TV addict. I love everything horrible and wrong about reality TV. Is it staged? Of course. Is it invasive and destructive? Have no doubt. Does it open doors to public humiliation like no other television genre? You bet your sweet padoobies it does. But really, can you honestly say that when you stubble across Patti Stanger while channel surfing the 4,381 channels you undoubtedly overpay your cable company for, you don’t become mesmerized not only by her forthrightness <em>(that was me being polite)</em> but by the incredibly brave souls that bare themselves hoping for a highlight clip on E! or TMZ.<br /><br />Last night was the kick off to the new season of Dancing With The Stars. I’ve never watched this series before unless my mother was over for dinner and politely suggested we turn the TV on so that she could “watch her show”. I realized last night while an 80 year old Buzz Aldrin moon-walked his way onto the dance floor and showed us how unattractively we will dance as we not-so-gracefully grow old I don’t want that much reality, thank you very much. This man is an American Icon. A legend. Come hell or high water the man better make it through at least one elimination. <strong>THIS</strong> tribe has spoken!<br /><br />But alas, the pièce de résistance was the one and only Pamela Anderson sexing up prime time television with her version of the Cha-Cha. Really? That’s what professional dancers wear when dancing the Cha-Cha? Bet it didn’t take that child illegally working in a third world country to sew on those 16 sequins ya got there, Sugar. The adjustment of her breastages while the hostess was interviewing her was the highlight of MY evening. I’m looking forward to her wardrobe choice for next week. Maybe, if we’re lucky, it will look something like this:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUJEEhfP7e7ONTOe2B__fG_uhJaGXRNflXKdOsb7GBr1D8sXmthyphenhyphenufxB2ALD93IfXY55NFMSxdFjpYTguNz6sDqE12zNklw2ts23MCplQ-uIXuUrPq-YaRtxtGU1yvvM6o-TKWQm6RF5JN/s1600-h/Pamela+Anderson+Wardrobe+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451838125848678642" style="WIDTH: 216px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUJEEhfP7e7ONTOe2B__fG_uhJaGXRNflXKdOsb7GBr1D8sXmthyphenhyphenufxB2ALD93IfXY55NFMSxdFjpYTguNz6sDqE12zNklw2ts23MCplQ-uIXuUrPq-YaRtxtGU1yvvM6o-TKWQm6RF5JN/s320/Pamela+Anderson+Wardrobe+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="justify">And so I post this one for you, guys, because through lottery winnings I’ve yet to attain and a sugar daddy I’ve never really put the time and effort into acquiring I will look and dance….just….like….this:</div><div align="justify"><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dp6qwFuhmYw&hl=" width="640" height="385" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" fs="1&"></embed><br /><br />For other reality TV junkies, there’s a new show coming down the pike….CHECK!<br /><br /><div align="justify"><a href="http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5jArgblF99spF7VyWd405rwaSgC3AD9EKBAFG0"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451838127269598242" style="WIDTH: 216px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 207px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHNzNF4xmwO5FqVWroPwPf-NhgjbQc1avfFELxAFZBUjo-Pw-OAe10hyeQH195t8spRSZtSz2qg7DR6qbRJCGRbQzUtEbgjkYls8BcfQwtY5IPaAQolwSBlgtilsv1FTRpVrd8Sisps4p-/s320/JERRY+JERRY+JERRY+T-shirt.jpg" border="0" /></a></div></div></div>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-11291364414301258222010-03-22T10:03:00.001-04:002010-03-22T17:44:31.576-04:00All By MyselfWow, coming back here is like peering into another dimension. It’s been so long since I‘ve blogged that my ironicism, a skill once honed and crafted to perfection, has become lackadaisical and flaccid. <em>(I love that word. I think I will try and use the word “flaccid” no less than three times a day this week. The King may be pissed by tomorrow afternoon BUT what’s a girl to do.)<br /></em><br />Nothing extraordinary has taken place since 2001 so I’ll skip the update since last I was here. I figure that all of the other bloggers I came to know and love have flown the coup and moved on to bigger and better things so from here on out – I’ll pretty much be writing for myself. Good thing I crack my ass up!<br /><br />I won’t be here every day because I don’t have the time and effort it takes to come up with something as creative as I expect of myself. I’ll be rambling about nonsensical things that only a mind as warped as my own will be able to understand AND if you’re lucky post a picture here and there.<br /><br />So there it is folks, let’s se how long I can keep this up. Wish me luck, cross your fingers, and make a wish on a star.<br /><br /><strong>Sláinte!!!!</strong>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-67836705877972757002010-01-12T15:44:00.002-05:002010-01-12T15:45:55.292-05:00Just Sayin'Yes...I suck...I know.Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-32630931721639318852009-05-27T16:10:00.002-04:002009-05-27T16:19:48.279-04:00Publix ROCKS!Sitting around with some girls this afternoon taking a break from the real world and somehow the subject of commercials came up. Wish I had posted this for Mother's Day....<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/UtylPujEmbo&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/UtylPujEmbo&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />Hallmark got even higher marks but I couldn't find the one with the retiring teacher....anyone remember that one?<br /><br /><strong>Happy Belated Mother's Day!</strong>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-73715755458434249022009-05-19T10:57:00.003-04:002009-05-19T11:02:02.476-04:00The Power of The WolfMan, there are some funny, <strong><span style="font-size:130%;">funny</span></strong> people out there. Click on the shirt and read the reviews....who needs blogs when we have Amazon?<br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Three-T-Shirt-Available-Various-Sizes/product-reviews/B000NZW3IY/ref=cm_cr_pr_viewpnt_sr_5?ie=UTF8&showViewpoints=0&filterBy=addFiveStar"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5337549560984250354" style="WIDTH: 280px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 280px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifgjWKySByyKk9dQvd-CvSvaGRMPUmpR92FM7LRJq4u2XLxAVU3wWjmrnVscL9MaR8MSIsd8-QPEgBamlB1sMJV8cgX7SL2KOLCngFmampPoSNmnf-I3bxjevrjROTHMB1hWaEkQIyY9rm/s320/Wolf+Shirt.jpg" border="0" /></a>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-22241073740230093242009-05-14T11:42:00.010-04:002009-05-14T11:58:36.341-04:00That Time of Year Again......Oh Darn.<div align="justify">As the <a href="http://www.tallahasseehighlandgames.com/index.html">Highland Games </a>draw near yet again, I though to myself what better way to celebrate my heritage than to bask in the glory of man. And boy will this girl be baskin'! With the hopes of sharing such joy, I bring to you my list of reasons why I love the native dress of my people. </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Thirteen Reasons Queen Goob Loves A Kilt</span></strong></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">1. A kilt looks good on anyone.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">2. A kilt looks even better on a man.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">3. Men with work boots and heavy socks bunched up.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">4. I LIKE wearing mirrors on my shoes.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">5. A kilt is probably the most masculine article of clothing a man could wear.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">6. You don’t have to worry about tearing out the knees or the bum.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">7. You can dress them up or go casual, we really don’t care.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">8. They come in any color you could possibly conceive.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">9. I quote Mel Gibson as William Wallace in Braveheart when I yell …"Freedom!"</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">10. Who doesn’t like their man going commando?</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">11. Going commando and everyone knowing it.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">12. A kilt provides free air conditioning on those hot summer days.</div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">13. Women LOVE a man in a kilt. </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsNqfnEe5NqHZrjzjA-kZAxX0Lu_Bk-11PppukKJ_bQAKx0P8MFDKwAQit8qvk4ZNeesjeta_U_F3PMijsMrOrvYRgZrdKC3RIrLDT8jSxEcUe5FKsMmYn0C5XTVwYB8ib2K_ZN0u6b0Bq/s1600-h/yummy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335706085720041186" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsNqfnEe5NqHZrjzjA-kZAxX0Lu_Bk-11PppukKJ_bQAKx0P8MFDKwAQit8qvk4ZNeesjeta_U_F3PMijsMrOrvYRgZrdKC3RIrLDT8jSxEcUe5FKsMmYn0C5XTVwYB8ib2K_ZN0u6b0Bq/s320/yummy.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="justify"><br />....crap, that makes fourteen, doesn't it?</div>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-9207815987666715602009-04-30T13:43:00.008-04:002009-04-30T14:27:14.923-04:00Our Town Is Famous For....<strong>This guy:</strong><br /><br /><br /><div align="justify"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nJcSl3mntWc"><object width="560" height="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/nJcSl3mntWc&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/nJcSl3mntWc&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object></a></div><div align="justify"><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/EIL9qFsv98c&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/EIL9qFsv98c&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ylhykuz9UQw&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ylhykuz9UQw&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></div><div align="justify"><br />As The King was driving us home from work yesterday he rudely interrupted my phone call to Magillicutty when we happened upon this juic-i-licious specimen of a man at the intersection of St. Augustine and Magnolia. This is not the first time I’ve experienced this beautiful stranger’s lusciousness but each and every time one has the pleasure to gaze upon his splendific physique all rational thought just flies out the window. </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify">At this point I could no longer respond to Magill <em>(which was most likely not a problem as she had taken a couple Valium for a minor surgical procedure and was slurring her words like she’s just had fourteen fillings done and the Novocain hadn’t yet worn off)</em>, I could no longer grasp a coherent thought, I could no longer breathe or swallow for fear of taking down that little, tiny bit of vomit that had taken refuge in my mouth. <br /><br />My mind drew a blank……where was my camera? Could I just hang up on Magill and use my phone to take pictures? What would my mother think if I invited him over for a Fourth of July picnic? SWSLLAJBSDAIDHTNTTH…... <strong>SWSLLAJBSDAIDHTNTTH......</strong>what would SWSLLAJBSDAIDHTNTTH do?!?!?!? I’ll tell you what SWSLLAJBSDAIDHTNTTH would have done, she would have so hug up on Magill, swung an illegal right-hand turn from the left-hand turn lane crossing in front of three car-filled lanes of traffic to boldly follow this dumpling of a guy and asking him to pose so her picture would most assuredly turn out perfect.<br /><br /><strong>My - God - She’s - Good!</strong><br /><br />Me?<br /><br />I just stayed on the phone and mocked my best friend by making shit up and her believing it because she was two sheets to the wind and high as a kite….besides, I knew I could share a video or two without having to utilize the warranty on my camera due to an exploding lens when it focused upon his ass’s gravitational force.</div>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-66207851516112733632009-04-29T14:13:00.008-04:002009-04-29T14:43:27.668-04:00A Fiendly Game of Kickball<div align="justify">Yes, I'm still alive....lots going on; will get you caught up soon.</div><div align="justify"><br />So we're currently planning another game of kickball to be played by family, friends, and loved ones. Our last game was such fun we've decided to try and make this a semi-regular gathering. Last game we had approximaitely 20 -25 people, one dog, and lots of beer.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZRtwFKmeRMX9hdPYXgI8VPXFAyQ0F3zfpoSzU0FzFB8bejsh1U-XvEBJ_WzvmaArtL7rVApnGq-ErCOGGjRnfuIeWj6g26KzP9YDCmKkyzdxSK_ssgtZbG5C0k5D8UGovDxcin47wqcSO/s1600-h/P1050822.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330182667482017010" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZRtwFKmeRMX9hdPYXgI8VPXFAyQ0F3zfpoSzU0FzFB8bejsh1U-XvEBJ_WzvmaArtL7rVApnGq-ErCOGGjRnfuIeWj6g26KzP9YDCmKkyzdxSK_ssgtZbG5C0k5D8UGovDxcin47wqcSO/s320/P1050822.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><div align="justify"><br />Word has gotten out (<em><span style="font-size:85%;">Thanks to SIL!</span></em>) and it looks like this game will be jam-packed with moms, dads, kids, dogs, friends, neighbors, and office cronies. In trying to determine exactly what to wear to such a prestigious gathering of individuals, I ran across THIS:</div><br /><div align="justify"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3I7Jc6kVCEQ9vds-6PWFpsg1pknpv2jNIXK5oG4tnwykoqiN33a84ftnFxDe1Iqj8B0oDciohzxPCTugs6Wzt80lIyFJ0WSaOmUo7yFqQAxNZbwbHyldnltP4S0QcMfGUZKBOKMUXqSRh/s1600-h/2631141177_050ffa3826.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330183004885512498" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3I7Jc6kVCEQ9vds-6PWFpsg1pknpv2jNIXK5oG4tnwykoqiN33a84ftnFxDe1Iqj8B0oDciohzxPCTugs6Wzt80lIyFJ0WSaOmUo7yFqQAxNZbwbHyldnltP4S0QcMfGUZKBOKMUXqSRh/s320/2631141177_050ffa3826.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAZyvu9-W6LkAJicnXXr0Xa2-H7JdLYFX6S8FviaiIzkKR_-h6n1_onva-GbXbtP2Oc1YJ5yKqGYDMjFUJJrQ4Hhy0L82lMyvGT_Da01vPGMTD5zCAcvFYcKngLuzLsMCXso86CMC4fp2/s1600-h/2633627403_fdf8cc31f9.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330184716231573362" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAZyvu9-W6LkAJicnXXr0Xa2-H7JdLYFX6S8FviaiIzkKR_-h6n1_onva-GbXbtP2Oc1YJ5yKqGYDMjFUJJrQ4Hhy0L82lMyvGT_Da01vPGMTD5zCAcvFYcKngLuzLsMCXso86CMC4fp2/s320/2633627403_fdf8cc31f9.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiphRVXLypyl_JSSq_mt7sov05_-_E8IhTxmAeRBQhMTFvKyqS4c7DdXrLSR5MFkb47mo7SRuQIUDKncGeHhzSc27mcOqan8xXsH3V27AE7ghxJHWDDXxnN-riazJ_In2kRSzcC8PVBVAl4/s1600-h/2633677399_a15d888a2f.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330184719477272594" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiphRVXLypyl_JSSq_mt7sov05_-_E8IhTxmAeRBQhMTFvKyqS4c7DdXrLSR5MFkb47mo7SRuQIUDKncGeHhzSc27mcOqan8xXsH3V27AE7ghxJHWDDXxnN-riazJ_In2kRSzcC8PVBVAl4/s320/2633677399_a15d888a2f.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-gLJxljl79EplwN4gjfmDNTbmy7hrD5AGMl2ZQciHVTiGBatNoBDThAGkbBwEbZZEHA5Mqwg63BcmvWLcwdGlSpYxF0CZG-yHRzXU6XIEbp0Z1CcN8NO3AIRluORS49bu26cw09dimbEW/s1600-h/2634459104_2b37c416d9.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330184720161046178" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-gLJxljl79EplwN4gjfmDNTbmy7hrD5AGMl2ZQciHVTiGBatNoBDThAGkbBwEbZZEHA5Mqwg63BcmvWLcwdGlSpYxF0CZG-yHRzXU6XIEbp0Z1CcN8NO3AIRluORS49bu26cw09dimbEW/s320/2634459104_2b37c416d9.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div align="justify"><br />Dude, who wouldn't want to play a game of <span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/quinnmartin/sets/72157605940159426/"><span style="color:#cc0000;">ZOMBIE KICKBALL</span></a><span style="color:#cc0000;">?!?!? </span></strong></span></div>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-51526107188944954062009-03-10T17:27:00.003-04:002009-03-10T17:31:41.168-04:00Life's Still Busy<div align="justify">So busy that I started a post three days ago and have yet to finish. The King and I went on a roadtrip and spent the weekend with STSLLAJBSDBIDHTNTTH and I - got - pictures. Look for it soon. </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">In the mean time, you'll find me........</div><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGmYkOzAbvLUxdaZrnWZNZj8NWDCrw0cRRN0HY_8U3HyYXCKSI5SXMP8LK0Kfh8pGNKktwnbQxJFIz2HbptQ2KTZKAsFMsarLqAap7a8ZMaSHM3f0CJ4SSuhkNeZQgGvZs8Q6bawwelN_q/s1600-h/smoke.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311674068850336050" style="WIDTH: 221px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGmYkOzAbvLUxdaZrnWZNZj8NWDCrw0cRRN0HY_8U3HyYXCKSI5SXMP8LK0Kfh8pGNKktwnbQxJFIz2HbptQ2KTZKAsFMsarLqAap7a8ZMaSHM3f0CJ4SSuhkNeZQgGvZs8Q6bawwelN_q/s320/smoke.gif" border="0" /></a>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-47379365606019464992009-03-03T08:49:00.003-05:002009-03-03T08:51:01.226-05:00Under Construction<div align="justify"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></div></span><div align="justify"><span style="font-size:130%;">Busy life, busy kids, busy man......just BUSY!!!</span></div><div align="justify"><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I think of you guys often but life's been - well - it's been busy! I'll post ASAP but for now my brain is currently under construction.</span></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT75T_JgD9QUZEObIyHGb3brg9YdAGeDYZo67TIfOCu18ZmXtYFjweaasaoeH6Vv88r0ZbwKCgbhuZp8_MHNYEb9OIy80hsWA9tDssLQ5OHu_KURoM4tnFWDKo5ORidOQhUK79ZseU18cP/s1600-h/Construction+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308958409471432946" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT75T_JgD9QUZEObIyHGb3brg9YdAGeDYZo67TIfOCu18ZmXtYFjweaasaoeH6Vv88r0ZbwKCgbhuZp8_MHNYEb9OIy80hsWA9tDssLQ5OHu_KURoM4tnFWDKo5ORidOQhUK79ZseU18cP/s320/Construction+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-65298620312801908022009-02-18T15:24:00.014-05:002009-02-18T16:02:50.437-05:00JEEZ-MO-NINNIES…What Begins With “J”?I was tagged!!<br /><br /><br /><div align="justify">Okay, not really, I actually volunteered for this because believe it or not I’ve been having brain-farts lately and having difficulties coming up with shit to write about. Because basically that’s what I write about; life’s big, bowl-filling dumps. </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"><a href="http://caffeineandcabernet.com/?p=382">Giggle Pixie</a> <em>previously known as</em></div><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm6lmb_Ru9B-7AEjtJ6wtRvKHf3jjC-fY9ZaKjBo-Ux0Q5-Zur830Z3rIwvJMjpQAl-h2QzJ4PBeNAT78qBQ0Pc1Ert3l7lZt4O8XXG8xlAzcQct2jbHc6oJgEWu42DagVb25qSvUM_LQt/s1600-h/evil+genius.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304236398125631346" style="WIDTH: 99px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 89px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm6lmb_Ru9B-7AEjtJ6wtRvKHf3jjC-fY9ZaKjBo-Ux0Q5-Zur830Z3rIwvJMjpQAl-h2QzJ4PBeNAT78qBQ0Pc1Ert3l7lZt4O8XXG8xlAzcQct2jbHc6oJgEWu42DagVb25qSvUM_LQt/s320/evil+genius.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="justify">posted her list of ten things she likes that began with the letter “G”. She indicated that anyone interested could let her know and she would assign a letter.<br /><br />I volunteered – which I’ve been doing a lot lately. What’s wrong with me? I’ve volunteered for this, I’ve volunteered to help this weekend with the Extreme Make-Over here in town (and not because Ty looks good in jeans, either), I volunteered to work the concession stand at my daughter’s softball games AND I volunteered to work the Special Olympics next month.<br /><br /><strong>LIKE I DON’T HAVE ENOUGH SHIT ON MY PLATE ALREADY?!?!?!</strong><br /><br />I digress….as usual.<br /><br />So I left a little note for G.P. telling her I would love to join in the fun and she assigns me the letter “J”.<br /><br />“J”????<br /><br />“J” sucks! Besides, <a href="http://sawdustandcowpies.blogspot.com/2009/02/j-is-for-jockstrap.html">Cowguy </a>just did “J” and he stole all the good “J” stuff!<br /><br />But I promised G.P. so I gave this whole letter thing a shot. It took all morning with my office door shut to come up with this list so I hope ya’ll appreciate it. AND…..in true Cowguy style I’ve included a picture to enhance my list of crap.</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;">Queen Goob's List Of Ten Things She Likes That Begin With The Letter "J"......</span></strong></div><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#33ccff;"></span></strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwhv8g0-CmZg-xeYFvWyTpKBI3kFQMGtmjDuiH7O0pECnhOqhKDO2-bT3VRbllNhep6B6r5wA8WvHHgrUtyikFCMcbWp_Z8MpU4jkngMpSGLwiEf1i-dg0jfwyFunFJT26EdMq7CDSul96/s1600-h/CoffeePour+green.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304243276994569666" style="WIDTH: 246px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwhv8g0-CmZg-xeYFvWyTpKBI3kFQMGtmjDuiH7O0pECnhOqhKDO2-bT3VRbllNhep6B6r5wA8WvHHgrUtyikFCMcbWp_Z8MpU4jkngMpSGLwiEf1i-dg0jfwyFunFJT26EdMq7CDSul96/s320/CoffeePour+green.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify">1. <strong>JAVA</strong><br />I – LOVE – COFFEE!!!! I love the smell of freshly ground beans, I love the sound of the gurgling pot indicating the coffee is almost done brewing, I love the first sip of the morning, the sip that closes your eyes in ecstasy regardless of the fact it’s only a Tuesday morning and not the weekend. I – LOVE – COFFEE.<br /></div><br /><br /><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiNUai5DJefLTWblbvJSUft6Wr5HMocdZOWkDKkd9sRAFO_S_-t3ezkkwxBHmh23glHTnOeDbieTj8MgjQcetuOxEGxpBd_mn_F-I9LIRarRtJU5qJfJMARvHoM0mKQyQcDDKAaXQyYM_O/s1600-h/chicken+crossing+road.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304238941434561122" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 262px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiNUai5DJefLTWblbvJSUft6Wr5HMocdZOWkDKkd9sRAFO_S_-t3ezkkwxBHmh23glHTnOeDbieTj8MgjQcetuOxEGxpBd_mn_F-I9LIRarRtJU5qJfJMARvHoM0mKQyQcDDKAaXQyYM_O/s320/chicken+crossing+road.bmp" border="0" /></a></div><div align="justify">2. <strong>Jokes</strong><br />Jokes are awesome. I love things that make me laugh especially when you’re enjoying a beer with a friend just hangin’ out on the back porch and bantering back and forth to see who has the best blonde joke even though the both of you are truly and legally blonde.</div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvFBNur5zF-nuleMUku_TV1mc5o4h-IN0fl8P8P_cAG2SxU3t2SAMSXWVljWUAq0StY9G5xw8bE_KhRMj9tpLjoD3tf48xUBP662f5QycmyyT6wsZlIWsZic7Xkep13tm66MEHeeRps9Vg/s1600-h/juvies+8.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304243646539928882" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvFBNur5zF-nuleMUku_TV1mc5o4h-IN0fl8P8P_cAG2SxU3t2SAMSXWVljWUAq0StY9G5xw8bE_KhRMj9tpLjoD3tf48xUBP662f5QycmyyT6wsZlIWsZic7Xkep13tm66MEHeeRps9Vg/s320/juvies+8.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify">3. <strong>Juvenile Delinquents</strong><br />I love things that make me laugh…..wait that was my previous item. Or was it? Juvies are idiots and idiots are fun to make fun of and making fun of stupid people makes me laugh. YUP, I love juvies.</div><br /><br /><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioQ7VLDhPgSu27NFc45ZgTol6f9_p0LGWcJWPaDSuwsQr8JewLEpMus1fFkVHt6-VrbY6v9_ZvMNHphoDhYIgz0ZLT55oBWTAHNxU5y_tSOj0BWiD-YCLxu_dgwT33YCmE2peUZFZ1ZA4x/s1600-h/tiara-0174-a.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304236404427705682" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 243px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioQ7VLDhPgSu27NFc45ZgTol6f9_p0LGWcJWPaDSuwsQr8JewLEpMus1fFkVHt6-VrbY6v9_ZvMNHphoDhYIgz0ZLT55oBWTAHNxU5y_tSOj0BWiD-YCLxu_dgwT33YCmE2peUZFZ1ZA4x/s320/tiara-0174-a.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="justify">4. <strong>Jewelry</strong><br />Ladies, need I say more?</div><br /><br /><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpmIH2vYSWyvtmhyO5n9fSlwa_E5ugAmuxxXoYhBKByPB7msnGaGbl8lWi9QCtikS9WWfmkgTOQPeruSZGHOcgcx0ejzZdovz3pjFVr2JnW_fdaE37qPP_tpMPJONCRDcHutWGlCCmtlIE/s1600-h/ice+cream.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304237021894839906" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 230px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpmIH2vYSWyvtmhyO5n9fSlwa_E5ugAmuxxXoYhBKByPB7msnGaGbl8lWi9QCtikS9WWfmkgTOQPeruSZGHOcgcx0ejzZdovz3pjFVr2JnW_fdaE37qPP_tpMPJONCRDcHutWGlCCmtlIE/s320/ice+cream.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="justify">5. <strong>Jamoca Ice Cream Served with Cookie Wafers</strong><br />I needed to take a moment for myself when I thought of this one. Do you guys have Baskins Robbins Ice Cream? Is it a national company or is it just on the East Coast? If you don’t have it someone should be shot for not sharing. Available since 1956, Jamoca is a specially blended coffee ice cream. Even better is when you have a scoop of chocolate to enhance the Java-ee flavor.</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMY0c025biyg8JyfCbDWkyJAvDwArfj4ERjxv2nHeFIWUOaYz4nuYVjEydPfCG5s9r1LGuids1CDqFrXHQ9MUuvOvxAJpQb0mCKbnaTs4ekqs-vGAM06TLYe7LZQ6rrsgyv5lZ1PXH49xi/s1600-h/jury-duty.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304237023800755730" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 198px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMY0c025biyg8JyfCbDWkyJAvDwArfj4ERjxv2nHeFIWUOaYz4nuYVjEydPfCG5s9r1LGuids1CDqFrXHQ9MUuvOvxAJpQb0mCKbnaTs4ekqs-vGAM06TLYe7LZQ6rrsgyv5lZ1PXH49xi/s320/jury-duty.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="justify">6. <strong>Jury Duty</strong><br />No, I’m not crazy, I really want to serve on a jury but see here’s the thing. Most of my college education is in Law Enforcement with a specialty in Crime Scene Investigation <em>(strike one)</em> that and the fact that many of my instructors are old school, good old boys here in my great southern town <em>(strike two)</em> and a number of friends are within the law enforcement community <em>(strike three)</em> I’ve been called to jury duty but never been chosen to serve.<br /><br />Bastards!</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6WhNDXoctcMTD_iJonTQ-DJ3SgZ99vQHgP7V48l96bCZvVCGCqYEQUj5Di7d8w0HmGJ3VUZ-nRcZ394BaR6Qq6dH49t_hJB5zqtd2DKKvq2ExAXlMFwGMxH6pqgBwfvgXijMeTyCt9QIU/s1600-h/Cheeto+Girl.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304237027948747122" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 209px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6WhNDXoctcMTD_iJonTQ-DJ3SgZ99vQHgP7V48l96bCZvVCGCqYEQUj5Di7d8w0HmGJ3VUZ-nRcZ394BaR6Qq6dH49t_hJB5zqtd2DKKvq2ExAXlMFwGMxH6pqgBwfvgXijMeTyCt9QIU/s320/Cheeto+Girl.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="justify">7. <strong>Junk Food</strong></div><div align="justify">Honey, if I could bathe in Cheezie Poofs, I would.</div><br /><br /><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhChbmGFs4JvcFXhxLFrTrVi_aag726qCwwCDZ78_VMT-3q3zgApnQKW8Nt0_G2WXR7Xr0_KRSzzHo4o9MAUNgHaXtLbx81eiST-iLs4DgSPgh0Z4NX163rPGpEHQGW1u7nHHgsAyxH_dne/s1600-h/DwayneJohnson.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304237030931162050" style="WIDTH: 248px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhChbmGFs4JvcFXhxLFrTrVi_aag726qCwwCDZ78_VMT-3q3zgApnQKW8Nt0_G2WXR7Xr0_KRSzzHo4o9MAUNgHaXtLbx81eiST-iLs4DgSPgh0Z4NX163rPGpEHQGW1u7nHHgsAyxH_dne/s320/DwayneJohnson.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="justify">8. <strong>Jumpin' Jehosaphat</strong><br />Not only is this a great word to randomly yell out while perusing the junk food aisle at Wal-Mart at 2;30 in the morning, but this is the first word that flies from my lips every time I see Dwayne Johnson.</div><br /><br /><div align="justify"><strong>JOHNSON</strong>……ANOTHER “J”! YAY ME!!!</div><br /><br /><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZFGT9dupkgS96YQFwyRi5r0n1ZChhorcfjJZZBsI2ai2kapi9U-L89-FtLD2ZrZJlPOI8A4NdmVqls5PpxGkbsOAjp9CrG6cBVksFp2YQ6oy6Bt-rzcBo3YCPbaWT4fUw2zcIqw3B0Bk_/s1600-h/jeans.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304237033780051986" style="WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZFGT9dupkgS96YQFwyRi5r0n1ZChhorcfjJZZBsI2ai2kapi9U-L89-FtLD2ZrZJlPOI8A4NdmVqls5PpxGkbsOAjp9CrG6cBVksFp2YQ6oy6Bt-rzcBo3YCPbaWT4fUw2zcIqw3B0Bk_/s320/jeans.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="justify">9. <strong>Jeans</strong><br />They do a body good. Jeans are my favorite piece of clothing AND they make rock hard abs and a tight tush look – well, look H-O-T HOT! Throw a little Jamoca on that and I could eat for a week.</div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitEhNZqNZiCXPwkLUZ0G93BunpekDt1jypb8fknU2ET5w_TU1kdh00I_Iw916x0K_t97fnfpnjr_TLR5mSt514ccqJPBri5p5olq-uDD-9gyjrM2YYQiHSfunMm-kXKfZq9SNnOMlb4OGn/s1600-h/jaguar-1963-e-type-roadster.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304237216556912370" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitEhNZqNZiCXPwkLUZ0G93BunpekDt1jypb8fknU2ET5w_TU1kdh00I_Iw916x0K_t97fnfpnjr_TLR5mSt514ccqJPBri5p5olq-uDD-9gyjrM2YYQiHSfunMm-kXKfZq9SNnOMlb4OGn/s320/jaguar-1963-e-type-roadster.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAytE37JdMeAqLBVqDj-a30M4ESfeGXT9J7nZBW4hfcVu7A3_fzdUV9h2T087Jhadqu5tp_Myb-IUHomvCAU1IFsNi7K9tFkr2cxignB9v5idXiTRcV656ZSvb2GFP_mjQyNRtuFAp1B1/s1600-h/XK150.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304237215934665506" style="WIDTH: 337px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAytE37JdMeAqLBVqDj-a30M4ESfeGXT9J7nZBW4hfcVu7A3_fzdUV9h2T087Jhadqu5tp_Myb-IUHomvCAU1IFsNi7K9tFkr2cxignB9v5idXiTRcV656ZSvb2GFP_mjQyNRtuFAp1B1/s320/XK150.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify">10. <strong>Jaguars</strong><br />The 1963 Jaguar E-Type Convertible in British Racing Green OR the 1959 Jaguar XK150 Roadster in Black. Ya’ll can have your Italian sports cars, I’ll stick with the Brits. Just look at those lines, girls. A figure one can be proud of. I know I wouldn’t complain about my vastly budding and expanding ass if it was sitting in one of those!<br /><br />So there you have my list of thing I en<strong>j</strong>oy that begin with the letter “J”. <em>Jesus would have been right up there but that was one Cowguy stole along with a MOST fabulous picture that I knew I couldn’t top.</em> I’m not taggin anyone but if you’ve run outta stuff to blog about the same way I have, drop a note in your comment and I’ll ass-ign a letter to ya. Hey G.P., is there a certain rule I need to follow if anyone actually asks to do this?<br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>J</strong>eez-mo-ninnies!</span></em></div>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-12327372878901838632009-02-17T15:46:00.003-05:002009-02-17T15:56:47.824-05:00Holy Crap, I’m A Mother…..AND A HOUSEWIFE!!!<div align="justify">As many of you know, The King came down to Florida last November and moved in with myself and The Offspring. There have been many adjustments, changes, and fine-tuning of our living arrangements since that time. One of the things I found myself daydreaming about on a regular basis was organization. I shared with you the “<a href="http://queengoob.blogspot.com/2008/10/reality-mode.html">purging</a>” of the bedroom, and now I bring you the “reorganization” of the kitchen cabinets.<br /><br />I know, you guys think I’m crazy…and I probably am…but here’s the thing. I have been in my house between nineteen and twenty years <em>give or take a nightmare or two</em> and I think in all of those years I have cleaned out those cabinets once.<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">ONCE</span></strong>.<br /><br />In twenty years.<br /><br />I don’t know about you but can you imagine how much <span style="color:#996633;"><strong>shit</strong></span> has accumulated and been piled, shoved, pushed, and stacked in the extremely few cabinets I have in my kitchen? You guys know I love football but did I have to bring an average of 2.67 plastics cups home from every – single – football game I attended? And did I have to have a coordinating koozie for every outfit that used to hang in my closet? <em>Okay, maybe I did but I’m over that phase in my life.</em> Did I have to save every single baby plate, spoon, and sippy cup from when my children were but babes? No really, my son drives a redneck four-wheel drive truck; do you think he’s going to go muddin’ drinking from a Playtex spill-proof juice cup? I don’t think so either, even if it DOES have <span style="color:#ffcc66;">cute widdle ducks</span> all over it.<br /><br />So for the past two weeks I have been a tad busy. Between getting over a sham of an illness, I have been attending three softball games a week, taking and picking up Spawnette from softball practices, getting two hundred people here at work ready for a two week COOP exercise in the middle of nowhere with nothing to eat but MRE’s <em><span style="font-size:85%;">thank goodness I’m not going</span></em> and organizing kitchen cabinets in any spare time I can find. Here is just a sampling of some of the reorganization results.</div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">An example of "before" that I haven't yet cleaned out:</span></em></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjlAjghYsCwFcbgOWUmfoakdReFC0OGyhbecsedjSGgWlaYIf8Q8v-7VbkP9JhyGHUUvRJ-wYcHJosemNKEbh5FG0wcS9-2lgy7a4IM-ze66TXojfOq8AWumZ_iTGKu7y_yhSYrl4IrAol/s1600-h/Before+without+Blue+Jug+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303870870374758402" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 227px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjlAjghYsCwFcbgOWUmfoakdReFC0OGyhbecsedjSGgWlaYIf8Q8v-7VbkP9JhyGHUUvRJ-wYcHJosemNKEbh5FG0wcS9-2lgy7a4IM-ze66TXojfOq8AWumZ_iTGKu7y_yhSYrl4IrAol/s320/Before+without+Blue+Jug+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">An example of "after" that is one of the few completed:</span></em><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVw1WG86z8SKmCHSuz7oIo9J4XIcSxHBMdOqoDUalR-iTD8NEb7zTecCgRmkTTLbMzn1oJlTOfwwpxxj3rk8gBZq5-mWzTQxXBA714EngEnmJLcBaBbuUMtLIJkmBrRiXGD5WmGMF1cOaL/s1600-h/After+-+Dishes.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303870869122297362" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVw1WG86z8SKmCHSuz7oIo9J4XIcSxHBMdOqoDUalR-iTD8NEb7zTecCgRmkTTLbMzn1oJlTOfwwpxxj3rk8gBZq5-mWzTQxXBA714EngEnmJLcBaBbuUMtLIJkmBrRiXGD5WmGMF1cOaL/s320/After+-+Dishes.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="justify">Don’t roll your eyes and wonder why the hell I posted pictures of my kitchen cabinets, those there are pictures of my <span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong>blood</strong></span>, <span style="color:#ffffff;"><strong>sweat</strong></span>, and <span style="color:#33ccff;"><strong>tears</strong></span>. That shit took <strong>HOURS</strong> and I’m still not done. Hell, I’m not even half way through and I truly don’t have that many cabinets in my kitchen! <br /><br />I need a beer….anyone have a koozie to match my black and white Hawaiian sundress? If not, I’ll take one of these:</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgiXptCffBTQptG_CTjTtAnFJW5Ucz1wkTnft8NXjeujKm24ZmY6QSxkwp_2-t9D_XKyVsNGLQ-zPBvvwdq1uUMCDZ6YhU4Q-AnOl5eC5TGX5O0J5Wpy7qYgVwf-RT8YyCSuMwt6fGx5Eb/s1600-h/Crown-floral-container.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303870874647164258" style="WIDTH: 249px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgiXptCffBTQptG_CTjTtAnFJW5Ucz1wkTnft8NXjeujKm24ZmY6QSxkwp_2-t9D_XKyVsNGLQ-zPBvvwdq1uUMCDZ6YhU4Q-AnOl5eC5TGX5O0J5Wpy7qYgVwf-RT8YyCSuMwt6fGx5Eb/s320/Crown-floral-container.jpg" border="0" /></a>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-63938896943489664682009-02-10T15:51:00.003-05:002009-02-10T16:01:03.866-05:00This Is Me With Short Hair and A Penis<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY9bassquY2Xk6W98cy3xXF4T-933dT75ntKlJyp3QgC8DsTafM1J807KujTbNKiUJw1aTYpQSV2xZ8lqC8S3kT47oKxumQtPQ22bpFZ2XHG8jdBI6r6B2B9U2eJLOuYT5S9jWuxZ2TwRu/s1600-h/couch+potato+1+copy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301275194214482898" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 192px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY9bassquY2Xk6W98cy3xXF4T-933dT75ntKlJyp3QgC8DsTafM1J807KujTbNKiUJw1aTYpQSV2xZ8lqC8S3kT47oKxumQtPQ22bpFZ2XHG8jdBI6r6B2B9U2eJLOuYT5S9jWuxZ2TwRu/s320/couch+potato+1+copy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div>Would you believe I got sick on Friday and spent the weekend on my ass or wollerin’ on the couch……..or both if you want to get technical.<br /><br />We did not go to Tampa, we did not pillage the city, and we did not grab some booty <em>(much to The King's chagrin.) <br /></em><br />Still recouping and will most likely spend the evening whoring myself over HGTV’s fabulous ideas for remodeling my home.<br /> </div>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-56299729867430399582009-02-05T15:08:00.002-05:002009-02-05T15:12:20.987-05:00ARRRRRR You Ready For The Weekend?<div align="justify">I had the weather channel on this morning because…well…I like to see the weather not only here but all over the country. It makes me happy when it’s 14º here and I’m miserable to witness two feet of snow somewhere else. Knowing the sun will eventually be shining brings a tear of joy to my eye….which froze to my lashes when I kicked the dog out the back door at 6:00 a.m. so that he can go pee. <em>For the record, the dog stuck his head out the doggie door, stood there for about seven seconds, pulled his head back into the house, looked at me like I was a total and complete moron then went back to bed.<br /></em><br />I digress.<br /><br />As ususal.<br /><br />This morning, while looking at the snow covered hills of everywhere else (South Dakota, Montana, Minnesota, North Carolina, Indiana, etc.) I saw an advertisement for the <a href="http://gasparillapiratefest.com/index_event.shtml">Gasparilla Pirate Fest</a> in Tampa. If my sister, SWSLLAJBSDAIDHTNTT, <strong>would answer her phone already</strong>, we’d know if we could invite ourselves to crash at her place.<br /><br />Cause we’re slackers like that.<br /><br />It looks like it’s going to be really crowded and I’m not one to allow strangers into my personal space BUT beer and Captain Morgan’s will be available at each and every corner so I’m thinking I may be okay. If I’m able to hijack my mother’s walker to keep the drunkards at bay I may actually enjoy myself. Can you imagine the photo ops there will be in the masses of persistently inebriated individuals clothed in tri-cornered hats and fake peg-legs? Can you? It will be like going back in time and landing upon the shores of Port Royal, Jamaica when John Rackham was plundering other vessels upon the high seas with the hopes of amassing booty. Or would that be am-assing booty? Either way, old Calico Jack boarded one too many sloops and was introduced to the gibbet.<br /><br />I digress.<br /><br />As ususal.<br /><br />So…..after I speaking with SWSLLAJBSDAIDHTNTT to see if they will be in residence this weekend, I’ll let you know if I will be AWOL this weekend. AWOL and ARRRRRR’ing my ass off. </div><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNpv0N50fulENr0ah0t12zTWreBNrKBZJkCFD9RkYWo9z2pwA_EvnsFRJM2jmDy87LwkmQHmLRsD8EiCQIR9PASWIDG1iM2Vt7nRE4hzYVWGFzPoQQoYLJa-4anjrp4rLzc9Q1-9V32fV6/s1600-h/AARRRR.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299408085506526082" style="WIDTH: 216px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNpv0N50fulENr0ah0t12zTWreBNrKBZJkCFD9RkYWo9z2pwA_EvnsFRJM2jmDy87LwkmQHmLRsD8EiCQIR9PASWIDG1iM2Vt7nRE4hzYVWGFzPoQQoYLJa-4anjrp4rLzc9Q1-9V32fV6/s320/AARRRR.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div><em>I look hot, don't I?</em></div>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-33512409649742083942009-02-04T11:25:00.001-05:002009-02-04T11:27:14.777-05:00Anyone Ever Been To Orfglimt?<div align="justify">Sorry I’ve been AWOL here lately, lots going on but nothing interesting or funny to write about. Or it could be that there were many things to write about I just didn’t feel like writing. Yea, that’s probably it. Let’s see, how about a quick recap of my weekend.<br /><br /><strong>Friday:<br /></strong><br />Spawn and his girlfriend represented the eleventh grade at the basketball game as Sweetheart couple for their class – they didn’t win, the seniors did – Spawn pretended he was crying out on the basketball court – mom was giggling. He spent the night at a friend’s after the game to go hog hunting early the next morning.<br /><br />Spawnette had a friend spend the night as they were partners for the history fair project –they planned out and prepared to finish up the following day – they stayed up late, ate a lot of junk food, and watched scary movies.<br /><br /><strong>Saturday:<br /></strong><br />Spawnette due at softball field by 8:15 a.m. for pictures and field clean up. Friend stayed at our house to finish writing history project while Spawnette suffered in the cold. Took both to the mall that afternoon because that’s what teenaged girls want to do. <br /><br />Spawn was home by 10:00 a.m. after “bagging” four hogs. He mowed grass, cleaned room, and then took off for girlfriend’s house. <br /><br />Both offspring went to Sweetheart Dance and I got to play taxi for Spawnette and friends. <strong>YES</strong>. I LOVE THAT PART…. At least we ate at a decent restaurant before the dance but the dang thing didn’t end until after 11:00! <br /><br /><strong>Sunday:<br /></strong><br />I cleaned house and got ready for Super Bowl Party while Spawnette “worked on her history fair board” and cleaned her room. Spawn hung around and offered to help but didn’t want to scrub toilets or clean kitchen. I guess he watched TV and played Wii and Playstation. The King went to the grocery store; my mom came and helped us prepare food for the guests prior to them coming over around 5:00. We ate, watched a FANTASTIC football game (that’s what a Super Bowl Game should be like!!) and after the game and everyone had left I stayed up with Spawnette to make sure the board actually got done. Went to bed around 1:00 a.m. The board looked good……FINALLY!!!<br /><br />Nope, boring weekend after all, nothing funny or too exciting yet I didn’t have a free minute to come on and visit with friends. I’m going to try and get caught up as quickly as I can but I actually have work to tend to this week so I won’t be able to sneak peeks here, DANG IT! Look for me lurking around your blogs with a comment here or there and know that I wish I were there instead of here.<br /><br />Do lurkers tell people when they’re lurking or should I have kept the whole lurking thing a secret so that the lurking was done properly? <br /><br /><br /> </div><div align="justify"> </div><div align="justify"><br /><br />Sorry I was gone so long, I Googled “lurking” and got sidetracked on “filksinging”. FYI – for any of you filksingers, I’d like a song dedicated to me to include some kind of ninja assassin from the land of Orfglimt, please.</div>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-26121967669531032642009-02-01T17:49:00.002-05:002009-02-01T17:59:19.780-05:00Here We Go Steelers...HERE WE GO!!!<i>CLAP CLAP</i><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tWhb1PUTG7A&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tWhb1PUTG7A&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-73603504538254801532009-01-30T14:05:00.006-05:002009-01-30T15:15:37.536-05:00Hell Hath Frozeth Over<strong>Wow, two posts in one day?</strong> What, has the world come to? Has hell frozeth over? Has the sky fallen and Henny Penny died before she could let us all know? <br /><br />Nah, but I saw this video today and laughed so hard; I just knew my friends would enjoy it, too.<br /><br /><object width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/yIutgtzwhAc&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/yIutgtzwhAc&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="295"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;">By the way, I'm the guy in the light blue shirt....</span></em>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-33813886954665732982009-01-30T10:18:00.006-05:002009-01-30T10:23:13.091-05:00Since I'm Already Going To Hell.... Why Not Get A Good Spot<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ffcc00;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><br /> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUtiylsuyB-_jGAA79UoM0mrDH9vR7tRW7blykI0-x1GZRUqF7y3Yromn1HaqXZGcmTLbcmesabuI-A1vNov7VoN_is3yLMVK799pfO_adrmT036naBhWp60NM726eIRRJSnmgyHL1lCkk/s1600-h/Troy+as+Jesus.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297106673402478674" style="WIDTH: 308px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUtiylsuyB-_jGAA79UoM0mrDH9vR7tRW7blykI0-x1GZRUqF7y3Yromn1HaqXZGcmTLbcmesabuI-A1vNov7VoN_is3yLMVK799pfO_adrmT036naBhWp60NM726eIRRJSnmgyHL1lCkk/s320/Troy+as+Jesus.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ffcc00;">Jesus is a Steelers Fan!!!!!</span></strong></p>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-58042280864391996242009-01-29T10:14:00.006-05:002009-01-29T10:21:41.624-05:00Dial Zero For The Operator<div align="justify">For those of you that know me, I’m a fairly anal-retentive person that has little rituals, habits, and schedules that I follow on a daily basis. For example, every morning I wake up to my alarm clock SCREAMING for me to hit the snooze button. After an additional nine minutes of sleep I crawl out of bed, drag myself to the coffee pot, and hook up my morning IV. I then make a cup of coffee for Spawnette and head to the other side of the house. I awaken Spawn, who fixes his own breakfast, then creep into Spawnette’s room to leave her cup of coffee and awaken the dead….there’s more BUT you get the idea that this is a habit that I follow each and every day.<br /><br />Last night I forgot to set the alarm clock. I can’t remember the last time I forgot to set the alarm clock. Sometimes I even set the alarm clock on my days off. <strong>WHO DOES THAT???</strong><br /><br />Me.<br /><br />So this morning as I rolled over to see how many more nanoseconds of sleep I had left I read the clock and shot straight up realizing it was already 40 minutes past the time I should have arisen. I knew I wasn’t going to make it to work on time so I grabbed my phone so that I can call a co-worker and inform her I wasn’t going to be sitting prettily in my ergonomic office chair at 7:30 a.m. and ask that she please indicate on the dry-erase board I was going to be a few minutes late.<br /><br />Now before I continue with my story, grab your cell phone, okay?<br /><br />Got it?<br /><br />Cool. Here’s my phone pictured below:</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGfZ1SJe740qUZOAzaED_VyojLeI9qmx9ELQFLhn-xw99CKHiKMEVyGd4Flw7bCzKpmwD_YaEWeqCYiqhzrJtJSdKHHag57Phan6HHxbCdHrSapJL13kZAIxt73x5qYHIvMNZO3bbFc3ZH/s1600-h/lg-lotus-284x300.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296734432415967058" style="WIDTH: 284px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGfZ1SJe740qUZOAzaED_VyojLeI9qmx9ELQFLhn-xw99CKHiKMEVyGd4Flw7bCzKpmwD_YaEWeqCYiqhzrJtJSdKHHag57Phan6HHxbCdHrSapJL13kZAIxt73x5qYHIvMNZO3bbFc3ZH/s320/lg-lotus-284x300.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><p></p><p align="justify"><em>I love my phone, it TOTALLY kicks ass!<br /></em><br />I proceed to dial the main number to the office and wait for the electronic message indicating I could dial my party’s extension or press “1” to dial by name. I don’t call my co-workers on the phone. When I need to speak to someone in the office I either holler out the door or I walk to their office for a little chit-chat. I don’t know “my party’s extension” so I hit “1” so that I may start dialing by name.<br /><br />Here’s is where my dilemma came to fruition; answer me this, what’s <strong>your</strong> last name? Look at your phone and pretend you were prompted to dial an extension by typing your last name. I’ll use my last name as an example…..glace at the picture above and dial the name “FLANIGAN”.<br /><br />People, the last name I was dialing did <strong>NOT</strong> correspond with the telephonic number keypad!!!! I couldn’t remember what letter coincided with what number! I’m frantically running around the house trying to find the landline telephone so that I can look at it while I try and dial my party’s last name. I’m typing letters and numbers until the face of my phone screen is totally and completely full. All of the sudden I hear a voice.<br /><br />It’s calling out to me.<br /><br />It’s faint but I hear it.<br /><br />It’s asking……if it can help me.<br /><br />Where the hell is this voice coming from?!?!?<br /><br />I lift the phone to my ear and there she is – the “0” operator.<br /><br />“OhmygoshI’msosorryIwasdialinginyourearmyphonehasakeyboardinsteadofjustnumbersandIcouldn’trememberwhichnumberwentwithwhatletterandIpanicedandjuststartedpressinglettersandnumbersandI’msosorryIwasdialingsolonginyourear.” I exclaim into the phone.<br /><br />“Can I help you?”<br /><br />“Yes please, will be kind enough to connect me to ‘<em>the</em> <em>lady in my office that has the same birthday as me?’</em>” I humbly ask.<br /><br />“Her extension is 3812; please hold while I connect you.”<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />……as soon as I got to the office this morning I walk to the other side of the building so that I could apologize to the very nice young lady that had the misfortune of being the first operator in the office today.<br /><br />She was very understanding – as soon as she saw how blonde and old I am.</p><div align="justify"></div>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-17393919612041143162009-01-28T14:55:00.003-05:002009-01-28T15:06:27.779-05:00Hey There Buddy....Whatcha Packin'?<div align="justify"><span style="color:#cccccc;">Does your significant other do the same thing mine does? When you ask a simple question, for example “How was your day?”, you get the typical “Fine,” thrown back in your face. I know, I hate that too. I would even love for him to make up a story every once in a while just to bring some excitement into my day.<br /><br />King Dork returned home on Monday after a long weekend spent in Ohio with family and friends. I asked how his trip was and he responded “I almost missed my flight but you already know that.” <em>Why yes I do considering you called and woke me up at 5:30 a.m.</em> He called to ask me to look on his itinerary to see what airline he was flying. He had gone to the Delta counter but they couldn’t find him. Same thing at the Northwest, Continental, and Southwest airline counters as well. I booted up the handy-dandy laptop, pulled up the e-mailed itinerary, and promptly informed him of his airline, flight time, and flight number.<br /><br />“Thanks Honey!! Can’t wait to see you!!”<br /><br />Yesterday King Dork cc’d me on an e-mail he sent to his mom in which he told her about his trials and tribulations of his travel home to Florida from Ohio. He didn’t include all the good stuff when he told me he “almost missed his flight”.…I’ve left most of his message intact:<br /></span><br /><span style="color:#33ccff;">“Brother” sent a birthday present for you. I wish he would have mailed it since it really caused issues at the security check at the airport. It was ok; I had one heck of an ordeal getting to my plane to come home, though.<br /><br />First of all I woke up a little late, not real late though, just late. I showered and dressed, got out on the road a little later than I wanted but still had plenty of time. I went to the gas station to fill the rental with gas.<br /><br />It wouldn't fill.<br /><br />The darn nozzle kept cutting out anytime a good flow of gas started. I tried multiple positions of the dispenser but nothing worked. So, after literally squeeze squeeze squeeze, I was able to get about 6 gallons into it and then it dawned on me, why don't I try another pump. I went to another pump and sure enough same thing however, this time after fooling with it some, I was able to get a small stream to continuously flow through it. Less than a gallon into it, it started spewing out of the hole you fill. So I turned it off and said the heck with it, it’s full enough... even though I know the tank wasn't full.<br /><br />I drove to the airport and of course at 5:20 in the morning there’s no one to check the rental car in. So, I turned the keys in at a drop box with the hope they won't overcharge me. I then move on to the airport and arrive at the Delta counter. The auto check-in cannot find my itinerary. I ask about a flight and inadvertently give a wrong departure time, my bad, and of course he replies telling me nothing goes to Atlanta at 6:22. My flight was at 6:10.<br /><br />So I got to Northwest to see if I am on that flight. NOPE.<br /><br />Go to Continental, NOPE.<br /><br />Go to US Air, NOPE.<br /><br />Did I mention that I never printed out my itinerary? So, I call Marnie and wake her up pleading for help. She boots her computer and finds out it <strong>is</strong> a Delta flight that I am on... So now its 5:45 and I have a 6:10 flight. <strong>YIKES</strong> they should be boarding <strong>RIGHT NOW!!!!</strong><br /><br />I run back, ok fast walk for me, to the Delta counter and luckily get one of the ladies to help me. Within minutes I have my boarding pass then ask her if I have enough time to make the flight, she responds with “Yes, you should.” I hurry like a herd of turtles to the security gate and ask the guy there validating your ID to your itinerary if I can go through the VIP line as my flight leaves shortly and I want to make sure I don’t miss it. He said yes since my time was so close so I go through the VIP line, get my bag, laptop, and all of the other stuff I have on the conveyor. I get through and the guy is holding my bag up, “Whose bag is this?” </span></div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiusAf0Wyrwsko4V_SSMRTicJBhHkIhITcDciq-joFu6F19XybljvYf05ZCatW1nV5Xc6kzSpN4V_OHok9RD-Iuk75zfradZIvZcakB6d6rHBfvmndWRHTcPxKB7diJVfkgvA-KvOHri_MR/s1600-h/Me+going+through+security.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296435999435054162" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 206px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiusAf0Wyrwsko4V_SSMRTicJBhHkIhITcDciq-joFu6F19XybljvYf05ZCatW1nV5Xc6kzSpN4V_OHok9RD-Iuk75zfradZIvZcakB6d6rHBfvmndWRHTcPxKB7diJVfkgvA-KvOHri_MR/s320/Me+going+through+security.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><p><span style="color:#33ccff;"><strong>CRAP!!</strong><br /><br />I respond stating it’s mine.<br /><br />“I need to look at something in it,” he says. I don't want to give your present away, but let’s just say what you are getting resembles C-4 explosives, Howitzer casings, large projectiles, rifle grenades and/or anti-tank mines when viewed in the security x-ray machine. </span></p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirlRBonv402dvTKiGnTpFx3oRI2_26X9jcG-8xjotkEC4f25fGLbYcS1zFiMCt42lmD9gaE4n_8m9rK8MMDXfJsQ82sKEXLakFoQXmnucoJmqmN08L0ABzOvvDrDtI30YVvAEK0533n7W1/s1600-h/My+Bag+BW.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296435999311843602" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 253px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirlRBonv402dvTKiGnTpFx3oRI2_26X9jcG-8xjotkEC4f25fGLbYcS1zFiMCt42lmD9gaE4n_8m9rK8MMDXfJsQ82sKEXLakFoQXmnucoJmqmN08L0ABzOvvDrDtI30YVvAEK0533n7W1/s320/My+Bag+BW.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div align="justify"><span style="color:#33ccff;"><strong>GREAT!!</strong><br /><br />So the guy asks if he can examine the bag….uhm, can I really say NO? <strong>SURE!</strong> Go ahead look in there; take a look-see at my dirty underwear and clothing! Go for it!<br /><br />He finds your birthday present in the box it came in and took it out. Since the box is taped, he hunts for something to open it with....<em>HUNT HUNT HUNT</em>…and I’m thinking “Hey man, I’m in a hurry here, can you speed it up???” I look for my keys but cannot find them. I look for anything to assist but can find nothing because oh wait, I’m in line at security and they have everything I own INCLUDING my dirty underwear. Finally the security guy finds scissors. He opens the box up and proceeds to swab your gift down. “Oh, I need to run this and your carry-on bag through the scanner again.”<br /><br /><strong>GOOD BYE PLANE!!!<br /></strong><br />So the guy runs everything through the scanner one last time and guess what? Yup, it all checks out now. “Do you want me to wrap your present back up?” he asks.<br /><br /><em>UHM NO!!! I’ll take care of it, THANKS</em> I think as I politely tell him “No, thank you.”<br /><br />I quickly throw everything back into the bags and turtle herd it down six gates, three newsstands, and two restaurants to where my gate is. I come around the corner and <strong>SAINTS</strong> <strong>BE PRAISED</strong>, the door is still open. <strong>SWEET!!</strong> So winded I step up and ask if I may board. The lady responded, “Of course you can.” I get on the plane, find my seat, put my stuff away, and say a lucky prayer as I wasn't the last one on the plane. One other guy followed me. So no one can blame me for the plane departing late.<br /><br />Oh, I forgot to mention that it had snowed most of Sunday and part of Monday so guess what had to be done before we could take off - we had to de-ice the plane!<br /><br /><strong>AWESOME!!<br /></strong><br />However, once we got into the air the rest of my trip improved. Had enough time to make the connector and was delayed a bit due to fog in Atlanta <strong>but</strong> we were able to take off and get home just 16 minutes later than scheduled. :) Ok, that got a lot longer than I had anticipated, but I think you will find humor out of it.</span></div><p><span style="color:#33ccff;"></span></p><p><span style="color:#33ccff;"><span style="color:#cccccc;">Wow…..did you see how much he wrote his mom? No really, did you <strong>SEE HOW MUCH HE WROTE HIS MOM?!?!?</strong> I think next time I ask him about his day I’ll request the turtle herd version.<br /></span><br /></span></p><p><span style="color:#33ccff;"></p><div align="justify"><br /><br /></div><div align="justify"><br /><br /></span></div>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-290274257160340476.post-63879052509406694612009-01-26T16:00:00.029-05:002009-01-27T09:26:59.486-05:00Bee’s Bizarre/Weird WTF-Was-I-Thinking Picture Day<div align="justify">Bee over at <a href="http://beesmusings.blogspot.com/">Bee’s Musings</a> had a fun little activity she invited her readers to join in on. Post a photo you took that you wanted to blog about but never did.<br /><br />HA!!!<br /><br />First I would like to share with you just how many photos I have in my picture folder:</div><br /><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG1g8ItQ4A1CeM1bIND7K10kkN9TDxypun8jEI4FnsR_t76IXakcoQpqaYIiE3niqxeOn0lx4QsrgldBUKiYnSBl8gO9af_gRxQUDwYhMVmQnJ5xOh0mXcViTTm42FwKceGB4QTnPPkpti/s1600-h/My+Pictures.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295711591821483858" style="WIDTH: 244px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG1g8ItQ4A1CeM1bIND7K10kkN9TDxypun8jEI4FnsR_t76IXakcoQpqaYIiE3niqxeOn0lx4QsrgldBUKiYnSBl8gO9af_gRxQUDwYhMVmQnJ5xOh0mXcViTTm42FwKceGB4QTnPPkpti/s320/My+Pictures.bmp" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><div align="justify">Click on the picture if you can’t read the small writing. Yes folks, I have <strong><span style="font-size:130%;">19,697 files to chose from</span></strong>. WHAT?!?!? Yea, I usually have two to three cameras in my purse on any given day SO this makes for a more difficult activity than I’m thinking Bee was planning.<br /><br />How to choose what picture from so many…..I have a photo blog that I used to post pictures on on a regular basis but as not many people were visiting I stopped posting so often. Do I post a funny picture? A pretty one? A nature photo? One of my kids? Obviously the list goes on and on and on and…well, you get “the picture.”</div><br /><div align="justify">So in an effort to keep this current post as short as possible I initially narrowed it down to fifteen. As I’m sure you don’t want to see all of those photos, I had to take a moment, drink a cup of coffee and narrow it down again. Below are photos I took – may have even posted on the photo blog – but never wrote anything about them:</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR5uBseWGp8p4EBlaOmO0OXQ3fzY9dRXIew9bH4kE4uaUzj6O3cCDo4tQhDuiwKIOgczeTqfI9NZDKPaqo6ijFaJdpBYTUg4C0UuXIk8SelNzxg64YtZMETH_vs5zzFCZoTsHa1YPkM1MK/s1600-h/Aunt+Monkey+-+You+So+Funny++BW.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295711301478998850" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR5uBseWGp8p4EBlaOmO0OXQ3fzY9dRXIew9bH4kE4uaUzj6O3cCDo4tQhDuiwKIOgczeTqfI9NZDKPaqo6ijFaJdpBYTUg4C0UuXIk8SelNzxg64YtZMETH_vs5zzFCZoTsHa1YPkM1MK/s320/Aunt+Monkey+-+You+So+Funny++BW.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">This one was taken of “Polamalu Roethlisberger.” That’s not her real name BUT as I was her mother’s birthing partner and she was due Superbowl Sunday three years ago, the name kinda stuck. Aren’t kids great? This is a perfect shot of how funny they think they are which in turns ALWAYS makes the grown-ups laugh. But alas, this picture’s not weird or strange enough so I had to search some more.<br /><br />Kids….so they’re not always funny. These are a couple of shots I took of my kids for my Crime Scene Photography class a few years ago. This was a fun activity for all three of us; I got to pretend I was killing off my kids and they got to pose as dead people. This is also a great way to live the fantasy of “offing” your kids when they become teenagers and smart mouth you when all you asked them to do was take out the garbage. My professor had kids; I got an “A” in his class.</div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrdYTx6LUAi7uqSkZG1QYeutVWsVt90hrhrIA5qXvUUDHq1g7y0ZO-37S0oMvIxkUFa4kGzcVj7JrU9Qt7Wx8nHORUCj5mFvF5SeP_5L-My9pRHDrkiJH6sjKIcJWgIGMPSdqNVUyOyh6T/s1600-h/P1030649.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295711297638077426" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrdYTx6LUAi7uqSkZG1QYeutVWsVt90hrhrIA5qXvUUDHq1g7y0ZO-37S0oMvIxkUFa4kGzcVj7JrU9Qt7Wx8nHORUCj5mFvF5SeP_5L-My9pRHDrkiJH6sjKIcJWgIGMPSdqNVUyOyh6T/s320/P1030649.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Since most of the photos I keep are kinda “artsy”, I dug around until I found one that was a bit more spontaneous than the others. I love my dog. I’m usually the only one in the family that feeds him, bathes him, brushes him, the works. This one was taken in an effort to remind my kids to make sure he has fresh water every morning before they leave for school. I printed it out and hung it for them to see and remind them how to fill his water bowl because he likes it fresh and cold.</div><br /><div></div><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif2KFoGVCBR62djXQyrPg0TgmRvGtO_LA9muu1ThoRLMks3siNf3uODqHamb6jgT75-C7quEyTP7h3iG3b_jGK1081F2mUrxUwsjvhY3TflK-fW-swj_qoVM_IqWCkGE3nvqU-2GZF_17Q/s1600-h/Proof+the+dog+has+clean+water.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295711281803651842" style="WIDTH: 227px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif2KFoGVCBR62djXQyrPg0TgmRvGtO_LA9muu1ThoRLMks3siNf3uODqHamb6jgT75-C7quEyTP7h3iG3b_jGK1081F2mUrxUwsjvhY3TflK-fW-swj_qoVM_IqWCkGE3nvqU-2GZF_17Q/s320/Proof+the+dog+has+clean+water.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Here we have a picture of my cell phone next to a hamburger. Why??? I think it was to illustrate just how big this friggin’ hamburger is. But really, who gives a crap about how big my lunch was? Do I really want all of you to see what a total and complete pig I am? Why not include the French fries and gravy off to the side that I know was sitting there as well. Yes people, dip your fries in a white gravy and you’ll SMACK your momma it’s so good!<br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-TKWrkZFVyjCsgHo8c9eX01Uv8HS6y-GkgC55AV2AGZEzZEROO1NBx2joVTkrKj0RemJWU-aCuK1NMmMmhqpl9ZxDVrIh32fcY1xqopFVL7PqPFs6B3FMLnZBIjYSOyDFs4JUIaDAqIG5/s1600-h/P1030717.JPG"><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295975244827770114" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-TKWrkZFVyjCsgHo8c9eX01Uv8HS6y-GkgC55AV2AGZEzZEROO1NBx2joVTkrKj0RemJWU-aCuK1NMmMmhqpl9ZxDVrIh32fcY1xqopFVL7PqPFs6B3FMLnZBIjYSOyDFs4JUIaDAqIG5/s320/P1030717.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">Ya’ll know I live in the south but come on, what did I think I was gonna do, have this picture as my desktop? EEWWWWW! This is a close up of pig’s feet. “Ya’ll wunt sum?”<br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlin5NZcTXSM64w0293rndMOxBHap9ZyhvLs-9LYsrFXHEo3HDx-_1RhUlS3-VTUG-Up2ti23pD1NeMySD1iygADOQudQ7gEgq6l7FuVK5TKXb1bMIECAhyVgUchhUKAZ5u7Hf5fU8wtaQ/s1600-h/What+he+was+bobbin"><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295975247713978338" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlin5NZcTXSM64w0293rndMOxBHap9ZyhvLs-9LYsrFXHEo3HDx-_1RhUlS3-VTUG-Up2ti23pD1NeMySD1iygADOQudQ7gEgq6l7FuVK5TKXb1bMIECAhyVgUchhUKAZ5u7Hf5fU8wtaQ/s320/What+he+was+bobbin%27+fer.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">Why did I take a close up picture of pig’s feet? Well, I most likely wanted to illustrate what my brother was head down, face first in here:<br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW3qGPpcBPIa6E0UKgXFO0gtlds7wLoJhw5p6bWDJdKdAjHsok95-pLJTMi9yxjFfBfNR5ZF9iEyKUJPDM_DfCb51yeFGR8BYAnjbheB3mWDkKMj4IqU5w6V3XsdXf1pOa4SB9PX74f9be/s1600-h/Finnie+Bobbin+fer+Pig"><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295975234086862690" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW3qGPpcBPIa6E0UKgXFO0gtlds7wLoJhw5p6bWDJdKdAjHsok95-pLJTMi9yxjFfBfNR5ZF9iEyKUJPDM_DfCb51yeFGR8BYAnjbheB3mWDkKMj4IqU5w6V3XsdXf1pOa4SB9PX74f9be/s320/Finnie+Bobbin+fer+Pig%27s+Feet.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><br /></div><div align="justify">He came in second place at the annual Redneck Games ONLY because his bucket sprung a leak and they wouldn't disqualify the first place winner for not having enough teeth.</div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify">Well folks, there you have it. I know they weren’t as funny as Bee’s BUT I promise to take some more in the hopes she does this again real soon. Heck, I could do this for the next (<em><span style="font-size:85%;">hold on let me grab my calculator</span></em>…..) I could do this for the next 54+ years and not run out of pictures!<br /><br />Can’t wait to see yours! </div>Queen Goobhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02579192188338877091noreply@blogger.com157