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Some Say It's For Lovers, United States

Monday, July 27, 2009

Where The Hell Have I Been?

Last week, I had to fly to THE A K (as one of the locals called it). That would be Alaska for those of you that don't know your state abbreviations.

The picture above is of a nice tasty morsel that found itself as my meal one night. YUM!

I was gone from Monday-Thurday. In case you didn't know, during the summer in AK (the), there are about 19.5 hours of daylight and about 4.5 hours of darkness. Which is actually only dusk like.

This picture was taken downtown at about 11:30pm. Don't ask where all the people are. It was just as creepy to me.

I returned home on Thursday evening and worked from home on Friday because I was jet effing lagged. Thanks to meeting up with some locals on Wednesday night and partaking in some Alaskan nightlife (read, they tricked me into going to a strip club by just calling it ABC --Alaskan Bush Company--).

On Saturday night, THE Husband and I went to a concert here in VA. Jimmy Wayne, Dierks Bentley and Brad Paisley . To say our seats were great is really an understatement. I was touched (literally) by all three of the men. ONLY ON THE HAND you pervs.

Below are some pics for you enjoyment. All taken with the iPhone that does NOT have zoom, so yes, I was that close.

First up we had Jimmy Wayne:

Next we had Dierks Bentley (one of those hands is mine as someone else too the pic for me):

And last but not least, Brad Paisley:

Friday, July 17, 2009


I am so TIRED. SOOOOO TIRED. Need a nap now! I wonder if I crawl under my desk if anyone will see me. Or miss me???


1) Why is it that when you have to get up to take your significant other to work that you end up being late and they don't? WTF?

2) Why is it that when you are running late, you always have to stop to get gas? WTF?

3) WHY does it take so long to get the pump started. WTF?
3a) Step one. Pop gas tank.
3b) Step two. Get out of car and open gas door then twist off cap.
3c) Step three. Slip card into slot.
3d) Step four. Pick pay credit outside.
3e) Step five. Choose YES I want a receipt.
3f) Step six. Choose which type of gas I want.
3g) Step seven. Remove nozzle from holder.
3h) Step eight. Place nozzle in gas tank and begin pumping.


4) Why does my pulled muscle (not a cracked or broken rib) still hurt? WTF? Go away.

5) Why did my husband think it was okay to spend $87.25 at the bar (tip not included) with me there and I didn't get anything? No drink. No shot. No food. WTF?

6) Why are my Fridays always so damn busy. Come on. I know I am going on travel next week but seriosuly, WTF?

7) WHY do banks take so long to respond to a short sale? WTF already. I agreed to everything they are asking for. Let me buy that damn house. I have things planned around a certain closing date. Damn it. WTF?

8) WHY do I have to fly back from Alaska on Thursday in the middle of rush our DC traffic and have to drive home jet lagged and then have to work on Friday? WTF?

9) Why can't I go home? It's noon. I'm tired. I want a break. WTF?

10) Why can't I think of anything fun to do tonight but sleep? WTF? Sleep is for the weak right?

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Hey Mom, Remember That Time

When you ran me over with our car? I know you do. Not really all that hard to forget. I know, I know, I shouldn't bring it up, especially since it was about 31 years ago, but hey, I want to tell a story and in order to do so, well...I have to tell this one.

Picture this if you will. I'm talking to you, yeah you, the readers. Pay attention. Anyway, back to the picture. It was circa December 1978, I was 4. My husband had not even been born yet. *NOT FUNNY* Moving on. We lived in a trailer park (what...bitches?) My mother drove a 1973 Plymouth Fury III. It was huge (that's what HE said).

So, one Monday morning, I came skipping out of the house ready to go to pre-school. I was a nerdy little tomboy kid who LOVED school. The night before, we had received some Christmas gifts from the church. My Mother had taken them from the passenger side of the car when we got home. Like all little kids who can't open a door that big, I climbed into my Moms side of the car (yes, kids sat up front back in those days).

As we started to back out of our circular driveway, the passenger car door flew open. What did little ole nerdy tomboy me do? I reached out to grab it to close it. What happened to me? I fell out of the car. What happened after that? Can you guess? You should be able to, I mentioned it in the first sentence of this posting. I'll wait while you go back and check. Hmmmm...hhmmmm....hmmmmm...

Back? Okay. So yeah, the right front tire ran across my chest. Yes sir/ma'm, that huge care ran over me. With my Mother behind the wheel. I was FOUR. Being the hard kid that I was, I picked myself up off the ground and walked over to my Mothers side of the car and stood there looking at her. Moments later, I collapsed. YA THINK?

My Mother is not one to panic. She didn't in this case either. She was a little freaked out as I had blood coming from my nose and my mouth and I wanted to go to sleep. However, she made me stay awake as she flew to the hospital. I remember that. She parked in the parking area of the emergency room, put me in her arms and walked into the ER and said "I ran her over with me car."

HOLY Doctors and Nurses. They came out of the woodworks like roaches when the lights get turned on. The next thing I remember, I said to my Mother "Call JD and Judy (the Pastor and his wife) and have them come pray for me."

I spent three days in the hospital. Yep, a whole three days. They deemed me the miracle child. I had a bald spot on the back of my head, a giant scrape down my right arm, a COOL tiremark embedded in my chest and a little scar from where they had to put the chest tube when lung collapsed from the puncture in it. That's another story in itself. My MOM made a nurse cry and threatened a Doctor within an inch of his life.

As for me, (because this is all about me), I was angry that they put me in a baby crib in the ICU. I was NOT a baby. I HATED my chest tube with a passion. And the old man that died while I was in there still haunts me. I remember them trying to save him.

I do still however, have the Santa from my crib, the book I was given from the present tree and the gift of life.

NO...this is NOT why I am so flat chested.

Look at that, even at four I was a clumsy hot mess.

Friday, July 10, 2009


I'm going to try to start a new thing. WTFF. It stands for WTF Fridays.

Fridays are either horribly busy or so slow that I can barely keep my eyes open with out toothpicks.

Today is one of those toothpick days. So here is my first entry into WTFF.

1) WHO names their child AWESOME? Are you serious? Really? That's your name? WOW. Out loud. WTF?

2) While we are on the topic of names, there is a girl that I know, whose name is Crystal. Her last name is Day. Take a wild guess at what her middle name is? Come on...Crystal _______ Day. If you guessed CLEAR then you are todays winner (of nothing). Crystal Clear Day. REALLY people? WTF?

3) Dear Smart Ones Meals. If you are going to make a dish hot. I mean, my throat and lips are burning from the spices hot, then you should warn a bitch. WTF?

4) Hey dumb ass. My rib is either cracked or I tore my intercosal muscle (still waiting on the xray results). What makes you think I want to go to
Kings Dominion???? Roller costers and rides that slam you around are not condusive to such injuries. WTF?

5) Hey Steve McNair. WTF were you thinking? Guess it doesn't matter anymore. Dumb ass. Did you honestly think that a 20 year old waitress wasn't going to cap your ass when she figured out you really weren't leaving your wife? WTF?

6) I meant what I said the last time I saw you. What happened was 21 years ago. If you choose not to remember then that is your damn fault. I choose to hate you. I also choose to wish nothing but the worst for you. Don't you ever ask someone if they know anything about me or where I am. WTF are you thinking? Stupid bastard.

7) Dear drivers/travelers. In case you haven't noticed, or you can't read, the DC area has the SECOND worst traffic in the nation. WHY on earth would you plan a trip that will put you in rush hour traffic? Granted the traffic here SUCKS all the time but rush hour is much worse. GET ouf of my way. I'm trying to go home. You should have been 100 miles from here by now. WTF?

8) Why is it only 2:30pm? 5:00 can't come fast enough. Why is the President of the Company as well as the Director of Operations on vacation and they can't see it fit to give us a "go home a little early day?" They do it all the time when they are here. WTF?

9) Dear self. When someone in the office says "I can't get it in the hole" while talking about the plug for their computer speakers. It is NOT appropraiate to say "that's what HE said." WTF woman?

10) Dear husband. When you say "we are going to that party tonight" and I have no idea what you are talking about, don't proceed to say "we are leaving at 7:30" when I won't even be home from work until 6:30 thanks to the idiots from #7. WTF are you thinking?

It's Friday. I should be sleeping or drinking or something. Not working. WTF?

Thursday, July 9, 2009

It Doesn't Hurt So Good

Holy Pain. Or unholy pain. Whatever.

I have a very HIGH tolerance for pain. Normally, the Doctor looks at me and says "WHY didn't you come in sooner? Are you crazy?" Nope. Just didn't think it hurt that bad.

It seems that I have either broken/cracked/bruised a rib or torn a muscle. To say it hurts is a serious understatement. It was just a little uncomfortable yesterday. I would say about a 5 on the pain scale. Today, I woke up at a 12 and have remained at a constant 10 all day.

Breathing = Hurts
Driving = Hurts
Moving at all = Hurts

I mean brings me to tears hurts.

The breathing thing, not such a good idea to have problems breathing when you are an asthmatic.

Yes, I know, I should go to the Doctor. Stop pushing.

However, I do not have a Primary Care Physician. All of my Doctors are specialists. No need to have a PCP. Except in times likes these.

So it's an urgent care of the ER for me. Neither of which I want to deal with.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Save The Drama

For someone other than me.

For a small town, this one sure has a lot of stupid ass women. Damn it ladies. You all are killing me. Stop being such pathetic excuses and woman up. For the love of woman kind. You make it really hard for me to defend women. Oh and you men, don't think that just because I am bashing on my kind today that you won't get yours. Trust me. Don't even get me started.

1) I don't care what he did or didn't do. It is NEVER, E.V.E.R. okay to post naked pictures of your ex sleeping, on the internet. Stupid woman.

2) If you text me five times and say five different versions of "don't tell him, I don't want him to think I'm obsessed", guess what...YOU ARE OBSESSED.

3) If you tell him that you think he will be disrespecting you if he tries go into a bar that you are in, then don't do it to him and then say "he's the one that says we need to co-exist." Dumb ass.

4) I DO NOT want to hear about how you don't want people to think you are a whore. Especially when you slept with FOUR different men last week and you picked them all up in the same damn bar. TRAMP.

5) And you, you triffling skank whore. Not only did you sleep with my friends husband, I DON'T CARE IF IT WAS SEVEN YEARS AGO, but you claim to have an "open" marriage, yet you are the only one effing anyone else. And don't you EVER in your sorry skanktastic life refer to me as a nobody that means nothing or I will snatch your face off. Got that stupid cunt?

Get away from me. All of you.

Bless your hearts and have a nice day.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Well Then

I am usually not a person to jump on a band wagon when it comes to music and reality shows. However, since I am bored out of my skull at work, I decided to zip around the internet. When I came across the clip from last night of Kevin Skinner on "America's Got Talent", I pulled out my trusty iPhone headphones, plugged them into the computer and waited for it to download. Why the hell not, I had nothing better to do.

Let me just tell you a little something (my Southern girl speak is coming out), I love to hear a good singer. I love to hear someone who has honesty and emotion in their voice. Even if they miss a note or two, the talent is raw. I actually had little water dots in my eyes.

I'm not really sure (nor do I care to learn) how to put a video on here so you will have to just follow the link and watch it yourself.


And that's my contribution for the year to the world of reality shows and music.