The 11 Questions Game...Dang it!

Last week, I was tagged in a post by Kevin, who writes the blog Who Woulda Thought? tasking me to be the next in the line of victims called upon to play "The 11 Questions Game". He warned and apologized to me first so I knew it would mean work or be a royal pain in the ass, but as I read his blog I realized that it was a cute concept and that despite the initial thought that I may have to boot him off my blog or quit following him for imposing such a pain in the ass task on me...instead, I've decided to put on my big girl britches and play along.  I guess I'll forgive you this time Kevin since you do make me laugh.

There are rules and according to Kevin's 11 Questions Blog, If you do not follow the rules, one of two things will happen, either a pack of potbellied, pygmy platypuses will be released to hunt you down or a cherub will fly directly into an oncoming airliner, we don't know which will happen, the fate is up to those who get tagged.  Whew!!  Pretty damn serious, so I better make sure I follow them real close.  Could you imagine some disoriented cupid type getting stuck on a airliner randomly shooting his arrows at the unsuspecting passengers.  Spontaneous orgy eruptions on board would make international headlines for weeks.  I could not live with that on my conscience, so here are the rules I must follow and the bloggers I tag are tasked to follow as well.

You must post these rules. Each per­son must post 11 things about them­selves on their blog. Answer the ques­tions the tag­ger set for you in their post and cre­ate 11 new ques­tions for the peo­ple you tag to answer. You have to choose 11 peo­ple to tag and link them on the post. Go to their page and tell them you have linked him or her. No tag backs and you legit­i­mately have to tag 11 people.  (Meaning that 11 people are now probably going to be wanting to stab you in the face with a pitch fork!)

It's not to late to turn back and close the page.

The first task is for me to post 11 random things about myself, as if anyone reading this really gives a shit, but here goes anyway.

1.     I am the oldest of 10 siblings (mom had 8 children, dad has two more by another woman.)

2.     I am 37 years old.

3.     I have two children, ages 11 and 16.

4.     I have three tatoos.

5.     I suck at being married, as evidenced by two divorces.

6.     I am an intelligent person but often lack a filter between my brain and my mouth.

7.     I grew up in San Diego County, California, but moved to Georgia when I was just shy of 21.

8.     I LOVE spicy foods (if I had to give up my hot sauces, fresh peppers and salt I'd have no reason 
        left to eat).

9.     I'm a good cook.

10.   I enjoy photography and love shooting sports, parties and events and capturing moments in time
        in a photograph.

11.   I have a low tolerance for intellectually challenged people who think they know everything (aka
        dumbasses).

Now for task two.  Kevin's questions to those of us he maliciously tagged.

1. Which movie best describes your life? I would so love to say something like It's A Wonderful Life or some movie which portrays me as some perfect person or mother, but the more I thought about this question, the more I realized that I simply cannot answer this.  Different movies I relate to about different aspects of my life.  For example, I can relate to The Hangover for a few crazy weekends though we'll save that for a different blog.  When I was going through a divorce I related to A Diary of a Mad Black Woman (even though I assure you I'm not black, but I was mad and we were both divorcing asshole lawyers).
2. What is your favorite comic strip? Hmmmm...well...since I'm an old futty dud, I don't even know what comics are out there these days but I was always partial to Garfield and his maniacal, mischievous, binge eating ways.
3. Who or what is your favorite Star Wars character? Ok hands down it would be Luke Skywalker.  As an impressionable young girl, I wanted him to make...um...an impression on me.
4. What song can you listen to over and over and over? While I have several songs I enjoy, if I had to listen to ANY song over and over I'd be wanting to dig my ear drums out with an icepick.
5. Are your farts loud, silent but deadly or in between? Depends on what I've eaten and if I am trying to be discrete or going for the gusto.  I mean if I'm sitting in the living room alone, I'm gonna put some effort into it and go for maximum noise level and laugh out loud to myself like some moron, but if I've got company I'm gonna aim for silent (in a different room) and pray that it doesn't smell like something crawled up my butt and died and is not holding on to my butt cheeks to follow me back to my company.  My last one was a pleasant combination of mild to medium stink with a butt vibrating yet not to attention getting noise level.  As I said, quite pleasant.
6. Who is your favorite stand up comic? I absolutely love Jeff Dunham.  I mean, I totally envy him.  He's got different puppets for all his different personalities and gets paid for it.  What's not to love?  Oh, and I think I'm in love with Peanut (how freaking cute is he?).

   7.   If you were stranded in the desert and your wagon lost a wheel, how many pancakes would it     take to cover a dog house? If I was stranded in the desert with a missing wagon wheel, I'd send the dog for help and eat the freaking pancakes.
   8.   Are you allergic to anything? Does stupidity count?  I have a bad allergic reaction to  dumbassitis.
   9.   What is your ideal vehicle? I always wanted The Jetsons car.  How cool would it be to be able to drive OR fly.  Traffic bad?  No problem, just fly over it.  Oh yeah.
   10. Would you put one of those ridiculous stick figure families on your ideal vehicle? I wouldn't put one of those ridiculous stick figure families on a dog house, mini-van, refrigerator or fat ladies ass.  Well, maybe if I could find a fat lady that would let me put one on her ass I might just to see how many kids and animals it would take to cover it up, but back to the point, no.
   11. If we were to look in your browser history what would we find in the top ten? In the top ten as  for what 10 sites I've been on most recently, you'd find several different emails, a couple of my favorite bloggers, Facebook, change.org and a very seedy backpage.com which I became aware existed yesterday due to a change.org petition.  This is actually a classifieds website with an adult section where you can find hookers or pimps; jobs as a webcam model, hooker or "escort"; even transvestite hookers...all in one convenient one-stop shop.  I mean why cruise the blvd looking for ladies of the night to sit on your face and fulfil your squish fetishes when thewoman of your dreams is just a few mouse clicks away.  How great is the internet?!

For my third task, I pass the pain in the ass task of playing the 11 Questions Game on to the following blogs/bloggers with my sincerest apologies, but what goes around comes around and now it's your turns!

My Upside Down Life
The Incoherent Ramblings of a Moose
Super Earthling
Crack You Whip
RachRiot
Diminishing Gene Pool
Chiz Chat
RANDOMBLOG
Controlling Chaos
Dysfunctionally Functional
A Beer for the Shower

And for my final task, other than begging for their forgiveness when they find out they've been tagged, These are the 11 questions I present for them to answer.

1. If you were an animal, what would you be and why?
2. If you could have any super power you wanted, what would it be and how would you use it?
3. If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life but you could chose what it would be, what food would you choose?
4. What's the weirdest thing you've ever eaten or put in your mouth?
5. If a movie was made about your life, which actor/actress would play you?
6. Name at least three of your pet peeves or quirks.
7. What was your first kiss experience? (How old, where, open or close mouthed, etc.)
8. If you could have a get out of jail free card to beat the shit out of anyone in the world, who would you use it on and why?
9. What's the naughtiest thing you ever did as a kid and do your parents know you did it?
10. What's the worst pickup line you've ever heard or used?
11. What's the best pickup line you've ever heard or used, and did it work?

Hopefully my fellow bloggers tagged above will be up to the task I've presented.  I look foward to reading their posts.

Blondie vs. Evil Armored Critter Scourge

Last night I found myself under attack!  I heard it before I saw it…a sound that instantly sent chills up my spine.  I sat in silence looking for the source of the sound and then it appeared.  Running across the laminate floor, like some horror movie critter in alien armor, running straight toward me was a giant roach.  When I say giant, I don’t mean large, I mean GINORMOUS!  Even in the dimly lit room, I could see the flesh of it’s legs, the spikes protruding from each one;  could hear the tap each leg made when it came into contact with the floor as it quickly scurried closer.  This was no normal roach.  This was the Hulk Hogan of roaches and he was headed right toward me!

It was looking at me with evil intent, it's antennas moving like cattle whips as it ran swiftly toward my seat.  I jumped to my feet (squealing like a scared little school girl), sprinted to my evil critter defense arsenal and quickly armed myself for battle (with a flip flop).  I was too late.  The evil critter ran under my reclining spot on the sectional sofa, and seemed safe from my attack.  In high alert, I remained armed, standing in the middle of the living room surveying the room and listening for the spine chilling scurrying sound.  I stood there silent and still for a couple minutes, then muted the television and listened more intently…silence.

Then, quietly and without warning the evil armored critter reappeared to my right and went running toward the other side of the living room, ducking under a free standing recliner.  Bwahahahaha!!!  You can’t hide from me under there scourge!  I flip the recliner over with a loud BAM and begin smacking frantically at the fleeing critter with my critter killing weapon, missing repeatedly. 

My Evil Armored Critter Scourge Killer.  Be afraid scourge...be very,
VERY afraid (or just be dead, that works for me).

Again he escapes running under a box of miscellaneous junk.  Totally engrossed at that moment by the ongoing battle of Blondie vs. Evil Armored Critter Scourge, I suddenly get snapped back to reality by my son wiping the sleep from his eyes with a look that could only be described as one of mixed concern (she’s finally lost it) and curiosity as he asks, “What are you doing, Mom?”

It’s me against the Hulk Hogan Roach and there could be only one survivor.  Then my son sees it as the roach darts out and I take chase firing attack after attack before finally smacking it into stillness half way across the floor.  VICTORY IS MINE!!!  Being the reigning champion, I assign my son the task of carcass disposal.  After a minute of resistance, he reluctantly goes to the bathroom coming back with a wad of toilet paper to pick it up with, but as he goes to grab the armored critter, it comes back to life and begins running for one last escape attempt sending my son jumping in the opposite direction; but it’s attempt was in vein and my final attack precise and fatal.  Yes, I AM the champion!

Mother Fudgesnappers, It's Summer Vacation Already!?

It's official.  The 2011-2012 school year is over.  All the children look like this:

Most parents on the other hand, look a little more like this:

The cartoon is a pretty accurate portrayal of how I feel in the summers.  I dread the last day of school, and realized today that I freaking HATE summer vacations.  I am not a teacher or other school personnel so I still have to work.  Knowing that fact, however, does not deter my children from wanting to stay up late, sleep even later, and start harassing me about wanting to go and do what the freak ever comes to their minds the second I walk in the door from the boredom of being home all day.  Add to that I think there's a daily tornado that sweeps through my house during the summer months.  I mean really kids...you're sitting here bored out of your mind; the least you could do is clean up your messes before I get home.  I mean, do you like when I turn into Drill Sergeant Mom?

I think my son turns into this pig the moment the door shuts in the morning

Weekends are a whole other beast.  After a boring and uneventful week of no school and too much time in the house, they want to run, run, run.  Me, not so much. I want to relax after a long week, but that's just not gonna happen if the kids are home.  I bet pharmaceutical companies have a dramatic increase in anti-anxiety medications during the summer months.  Parents popping Zanex and Valium like it's candy wishing it wouldn't make them shitty parents to drug their children instead.  Oh...and then there's the grocery bill.

I swear, it's like growing kids can just eat and eat away the paychecks.  Living in such a rural area, there are not a whole lot of activities for them to get into during the days, so they make up for it by eating their boredom away, and I pay dearly for that boredom. 

Thankfully, summer will not last forever, and the day I look forward to all summer will come again...the first day of school.  Hopefully I can make it through the summer without feeling the need to strangle the kids too many times and they will enjoy that glorious first day with all their limbs and teeth.  Only time will tell.

 

And just in case you were wondering if I ever got my mom of the year award...check out what the little tornado gave me for Mother's Day.

Oh yeah!  I knew it was only a matter of time.  Thanks son!

Party Like A Rockstar!!

The last weekend in April was a music packed time full of great friends, family, loud music, and partying like a rock star.  Any of you who read Boots to No Boots...Music, Tequila and Epileptic Dancing probably remember my friends, The DB Bryant Band. 

If you’ve never heard these guys, check them out. They’re awesome!

They were back in town that weekend and once again, the party had begun.  This time, the band parked their trailer at my BFF and her husband’s home, so the party didn’t stop when the bars closed. 

They arrived in town for their first night of playing on Wednesday, and played at several different locations continuing until Saturday night.  So after three nights of partying like rock stars (two of which I had to work the next day), I spent the night at my BFFs house Friday night and awoke early with Little Love to look at all the pics we had taken.  We then all lounged around by the pool for a few hours (none of us are as young and babeilicious as we once were so no pics were taken).  Don’t think I got off that easy though.  My pool lounging time was short lived before I had to accompany man friend to a fund raising event in Savannah.  Tired and dragging ass, we made the hour and a half long drive to Savannah, driving by our destination twice before finally finding it.  It was a low country boil for a union employee who’d been seriously injured on the job.  We pigged out, made our contribution, then headed back to Onion City for our last night with the DB Bryant Band. 

That Saturday was probably the only Saturday night out that I was glad that bars closed at midnight, because after four days of late nights and tequila I was wore out…but my weekend wasn’t over yet.  My cousin would be at my house at about 6 a.m. to pick me up for a drive to Jacksonville, FL where we’d be attending the hard rock festival “Welcome to Rockville” featuring 15 bands including Korn, Evanescence, POD, Shinedown, Trivium, Halestorm, Five Finger Death Punch, and many more.  Oh the horrors of my life!  (I know, it’s rough to have so much awesome shit to do!)

We arrive in the Jacksonville Beach area at about 9:00 a.m.  The festival doesn’t begin until about 11:30, but we were meeting my cousin’s longtime friend, gonna grab a bite to eat, find our hotel and then get there early so we could find decent parking.  Cuz’s biggest bitch about when they went last year was that it cost $8-10 for a drink so it cost him a shit-ton of money and he barely caught a buzz, so he had a plan this year…tailgating with beer and whiskey and going IN with a buzz. 

We arrived in time to find decent parking and the party begun.  I love to people watch, so watching the people come strolling in was awesome.  There were people from all walks of life walking by us, or parked and partying near us.  From the freaks with so many piercings in their faces and ears that they could make swiss cheese jealous, to the purple spiked mohawk wearers and the old hippies with the long dirty matted hair, it was a regular smorgasbord of freaks to look at, then mix in the girls of all ages dressed from hookers to hard core rockers or swiss cheese wannabes…it was fantastic! 

We sat on the tailgate of Cuz’s truck drinking a beer pointing out different people, me occasionally feeling the need to roll the guys’ tongues back into their mouths for fear someone would trip over them as they drooled over scantily clad young ladies wearing skirts that any shorter would have been belts.  Cuz’s 17 year old son was with us, and he decided he’d had enough tailgating and went on in to listen to the beginning bands (which we could hear just fine from the tailgate with our cooler) so he left us and the whiskey was brought out.  Shortly after, a homeless black man comes walking by with a plastic bag and Cuz decides to befriend the man and offers him a beer.  When we decided to go inside, the homeless man was left in charge of watching the truck and making sure no one messed with it…for a small fee of course.

Cuz was already tore up, and in the mood to mosh.  For those of you who don’t know what moshing is, or a mosh pit, it’s a bunch of angry men who basically beat the shit out of each other as they jump and bang into one another, moving around in a circular pattern to the music, usually in the middle of a large crowd of people.  It’s like head banging on steroids.  Oh, and there seems to be an unspoken but widely understood rule in moshing that the moshers cannot wear shirts. 

The first band we see is Trivium, followed by POD.  Since a mosh pit had yet to be found, Cuz decides to create one…right next to me.  Suddenly there are a bunch of half-naked men, violently jumping and bumping into each other (and me) as they widen the area in the middle of the large group of concert goers and more and more violent men join in.  Trying to put some distance between me and them and not be caught in the middle of this, Cuz’s friend steps between me and the moshers playing interference, steps on my shoe, and as I try and step back, POP…broken shoe.  I was already wearing the WRONG shoes to begin with for such an event, but now I was wearing no shoes, and the afternoon was just beginning. 

Oh well, I tuck my shoes into my belt and carry on barefoot!  Within minutes, Cuz resurfaces blood coming out of his mouth, smiling wickedly like a mad man with blood in his teeth, then jumps back in for round two.  When he resurfaced after round two with a badly injured knee he came to the realization that he wasn’t as young and in shape as the guys in the pit and had enough moshing, so we went to find a spot to rest and some ice for his knee.

After insisting that he put the ice on his knee I went in search of food.  Food and the pain to his knee had a sobering effect on Cuz and we had a fairly uneventful rest of the evening as we danced and swayed to the music of Halestorm, Evanescence, Five Finger Death Punch and then Shinedown.  They were all awesome, but Shinedown was very interactive and a lot of fun.  We were fairly close to the stage and packed in like sardines with thousands of people trying to get closer and closer.  The lead singer starts giving the crowd instructions like when to sway, when to jump, when to put an arm around the concert goer to this side or that.  People were being passed overhead from all directions and you had to be on the lookout or they could be dropped on your head if you didn’t help pass them over (which happened a couple times before I got smart and started watching behind me). It was a lot of fun, but I was just sure I was gonna have a broken toe or ten out of it before it was over.  Luckily I escaped with only a few minor bruises and scratches.

By the end of Shinedown, we were pooped and decided to find a seat and sit Korn out while we waiting on the teenage son.  The next day I realized two things…1)  I am not a teenager anymore and my rockstar filled weekend had wore me slap out; and 2) I really appreciate a good weekend where I can get in some good quality drool time with my pillows.  When I finally made it home the next day, I lazed around trying to recover before I began another work week.  It was a great weekend, but boy I was glad it was over.

Stolen Cameras and Pin Up Pictures

The past several weeks have been like a figurative roller coaster ride for me.  Filled with ups and downs, tears and laughter, then throw in a few free-falling “oh shit” moments just to keep it exciting.  It would take a novel to tell all that’s taken place, and since I’m too lazy to write one, and you’re too lazy to read one, I’ll just tell you how they began. 

 

 

A few weeks ago when leaving the house for work, I entered my (unlocked) car and found that someone had been in it.  My glove box and center console where open and documents that had been in them were in disarray on the floorboard.  Nothing was broken, and at first I didn’t think there had been anything in it of value to steal.  That is until about 2 days later.

 

 

I have a very nice camera that gets invited to all sorts of fun events, to which I’m forced to tag along.  I love taking pictures and capturing moments in people’s lives preserving the memory forever.  It’s a passion of mine.  When preparing for a community event which I was working, my heart hit my asshole as I remembered the last time I’d had my camera and didn’t remember bringing it in the house.  That had been the night BEFORE I’d found my car riffled through.  My camera set up alone is worth several thousand dollars, which should be reason enough for my heart and asshole to console each other, but it gets worse…WAY worse.

 

 

A few days prior, kids were with their dad and my man-friend and I were having a couple drinks, being a little frisky.  It was late in the evening, night was black, there was a cool breeze blowing and since my back yard is secluded, we went outside.  I was wearing nothing but a pair of panties and a beer that was better clothed than I in a red Budweiser coozie.  We were talking about an event I’d photographed, and I was showing him pictures on my camera.  Being playful, he takes the camera and snaps a few very risqué shots of me sitting on a chair, in nothing but my thong panties, with my feet propped up on the table and the beer bottle in my hand.

Sitting in one of these chairs with my feet propped up on this table,

I felt a sort of sickness when I realized, a) my camera…probably my most valued possession had been stolen, and b) that there were almost naked pictures in the camera that were now in the possession of some strange person I could not identify.  When imagining my mortification, keep in mind that I live in a rather rural community where if don’t know someone, you know their mother, brother, son or cousin…if not all of them.

 

 

After the waves of panic released me, I called man-friend and told him.  I think his heart and asshole had a quick consoling session as well, before HE called and reported the camera stolen.  I didn’t have the serial numbers off hand, and needed to find them.  A couple days later, I get a call from the investigator man-friend had spoken to.  I’ve known this investigator for years both socially and professionally.  He asks me if I’ve yet come in and file an official report on the camera.  I told him I’d not gotten the serial number yet, so he takes some basic information asking me make and model, etc.  After answering his questions, I tell him I’ll get him the serial number later that day, to which he kinda clears his throat, and says, “Well…um…I really don’t need it now.  Can you come up here?”

 

 

I felt the blood leave my face and my mouth went dry as I realized that my camera, with me in all my glory, was now in the hands of my local rural police department.  I had mixed emotions, in that I was super happy that I’d get my camera back, less happy about having the local law enforcement know what I looked like in a pair of panties.  I took a deep breath, put on my big girl panties, and said “Oh lord.” He kinda chuckles saying only, “Yep.”  After asking how much ribbing I was in for he assured me that he’d “try” and be professional. 

 

 

I had a 20 minute ride from work to the police station, and about half way there I realized it is what it is, and just busted up laughing.  No amount of stress or embarrassment was going to undo or change anything, and as I thought about going into the PD I just laughed thinking only I could get myself into these predicaments.   

That's about what I looked like as I'm driving down the road ALONE,
people looking at me like I was retarded or something

I arrived at the PD and asked to see my friendly investigator and was immediately told to go on back.  I’d hoped I’d find him in his tiny private office where he usually hid, but was instead directed to the conference room where he and four other officers were sitting around the table with a pile of electronic equipment.  I had to temporarily tighten my big girl britches before walking in. 

When I walked in, I couldn’t help but get a little smirk as he looked at me.  He quickly looked away and threw his hand up between us in a mocking gesture, to which I retorted, “Don’t go acting all shy now, at least I have clothes on this time!”  The whole room just burst out laughing, and the initial tension was gone.

 

 

I sat around the table with the investigators and was filled in on the bust and what had been recovered, etc.  Then I was asked to identify my camera and check the contents of the case, etc.  I continued to laugh and cut up with them, picking on myself before they could, which prompted another investigator to tell the story of how my camera was identified as mine.  I guess he, someone I don’t know, was looking through the pictures on my card to see if he recognized anyone.  When he got to the risqué ones, he said “Whoa!” which prompted my friendly to look over at the viewing window.  He exclaimed, “Wait! Go back! Oh my God, I know her!”  His fellow officers instantly wanted to know HOW he knew me, and how WELL he knew me.  His answer, “We’ve drank a few beers together.” BEEP, wrong answer!  Did I mention that I had a beer in my hand in these pictures?  They immediately start teasing him about taking the pictures himself.  So we spend a few minutes with them quizzing me about what kinda beer I was drinking under that coozie to see if it was my friendly brand (it wasn’t). 

 

 

Just because I didn’t want to experience all the ribbing myself, I had my friendly call and raz man-friend.  He teased him about finding some almost pornographic photos on a camera and wanted to know if he knows anything about them.  After first denying, man-friend finally realizes that there’s no point, and tells the friendly that he was worried about the possibility of my camera getting stolen and took those pictures for identification purposes only.  We all got a good laugh, but for some reason, man friend refused to come up to the PD.  Go figure!

 

 

The investigator who’d originally been looking through the pics looks at me shaking his head and says, 100 people could come walking through that door with this same situation, and I don’t think any of them would handle this as great as you are; to which I quickly retorted, “Oh believe me, if I thought coming in here in raging bitch mode would have put my clothes on in those pictures, I’d have been a bitch on wheels!” 

We were wrapping it up and I was telling them how happy I was that they’d recovered my camera, even at the expense of my own indecent exposure, when my friendly says, “You owe me a beer.” To which his fellow investigator, without missing a beat replies, “I wanna know how the hell SHE owes YOU a beer after you saw HER naked!?” RIGHT!!!  I told him he owed me a case at least! We all bust out laughing and I got up to leave.  As I was walking toward the door, I turned back to the table of officers and said, “This is normally the point where I’d say something witty like ‘glad you got to see me’, but you’ll understand that in this situation…I’m not so much.”  They all just shook their heads laughing as I left the PD.

 

 

After work that evening, I had to go to Wally World for a few items, and who to my continued embarrassment is walking around Walmart?  You guessed it…my friendly AND his wife.  So I’m hoping not to have a continuation of the day’s earlier conversations, and it looked like I was almost in the clear, until I turned around and there he stood, with his wife out of sight, looking directly at me raising his hands as if holding a camera and mocked taking a picture.  “Has anyone told you you’re an asshole today?”  That was the best I could do before breaking out into semi-embarrassed laughter.  We chatted for a few minutes and then went our separate ways.

I know you’re thinking, how could I possibly have anything else to add to this story?  That would be because you don’t know my friends.  Later that night, man-friend and I meet some friends for karaoke.  I’m telling them about the events of my day while I wait to be called to the microphone.  We’re all laughing at my expense.  A little bit after telling them of my humbling day, I get summoned to the microphone for my turn: “Next up, is the Police Pin-Up Queen!”  Yeah, my friends can be real asshats, but you gotta love ‘em! 

 

 

That was just the start of the novel that has been my last few weeks.  Oh yeah, and I’ve now got a new nickname…PPQ.