Thursday, May 28, 2009

Talk About a Dead Zone

Camping with mysuestories and crew was not all chicken feathers and guts MYSUESTORIES: A Hen In the Pen, Sam I Am .

There was one nephew who suffered the tremendous loss of three days without electricity. No t.v., no Xbox 360, no Nintendo DS, no ( shudder ) laptop. We may as well have taken air away from the poor tyke.

By day 2, he was jonesing pretty bad. Those 20 minute daily visits back to mysuestories manor for showers and quick television intervention just wasn't cutting it for this human USB cable.

He spent hours trying to find a spot on the beach (which is apparently off of every single satellite grid in the world!) trying to get some kind of signal for his lifeline iPhone.

Leave it to his adoring Pop Pop and an aluminum bat to solve the problems of the Internet unconnected!
From Camping Memorial Day 2009


I'm pretty sure Pop Pop did not need to raise his arm in a salute reminiscent of World War II, but that's a guess, at best!

All hail Pop Pop, Harnesser of Satellite Service!!!!

Psst...iPhone management, mysuestories is looking to make an app for iPhone that will bring the service of Pop Pop and his Amazing Satellite Connection to beached iPhones everywhere!
It works great until someone yells "Play Ball!"

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

A Hen In the Pen, Sam I Am

Well, campers and readers, mysuestories and clan spent the holiday weekend camping at our local beach with many friends and family.

And, as usual, there was a fair amount of family:

From Camping Memorial Day 2009



And friends:

From Camping Memorial Day 2009



Plenty of Christmas trees in May:

From Camping Memorial Day 2009



From Camping Memorial Day 2009


And carefully sorted firewood:

From Camping Memorial Day 2009



Some new tents appeared---Even one with closets!!!

From Camping Memorial Day 2009



And plenty of man-love!

From Camping Memorial Day 2009



But the high light of our trip occurred when my new-to-camping dad took our gaming addict and his two cousins back to mysuestories manor to let our dachshunds out for a while.
Twenty minutes later, I received the only phone call where the reception actually worked at the beach, and it was our gaming addict calling to say,
"There's a hen in the pen! There's a hen in the pen!" Sam I AM? Green eggs and Ham?
HUH?
Well, it turns out, one of our neighborhood hens had decided to take a walk in our dogs' pen that morning. And our unsuspecting gamester unwittingly let out chainsaw on legs dog, Rusty, (you, remember her, the sexually frustrated one, star of MYSUESTORIES: That Doggy has Style )


Well, bedlam ensued as Rusty went on the attack to defend her turf, and this poor chick may as well have had a fox in the hen house. At one point, the chick tried to play dead (I think!), and Rusty let go....alas, only to move in for the kill, which, unfortunately, the hen was well alive for!

All the while, the kids are hooting and hollering, as my poor dad is trying to get a rake between the hen and dog. Now the hen had two problems...she's being eaten by my dog and being attacked with a rake by a crazy man!!!!!
The gamester called us back, as we raced to the crime scene to tell us that while my dad had rescued the poor chicken from Rusty, he was mortally wounded. He then reported that my dad was now, (and I quote-Ya can't make this shit up, people!)- My dad was now CHOKING THE CHICKEN in our backyard!

We got home to find one dead chicken (yes, a bird, and not a pecker as we feared!) and a dog pen in which it looked as if a goose down pillow had exploded!!!!

Oh yeah, there was also this on YOU TUBE:
WARNING- NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH!!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PLC6_hRcxCI

Apparently, in my nephews' neck of the woods, when there's a Hen In The Pen, that's a cue for the iPhone to start arollin'!!!! Good show, kids!

Oh, and the newbies to our camping trip (IE:Dad and nephews)? Can't wait till Labor Day! Make sure your phones are charged at all times!!!!!

Friday, May 22, 2009

Locked In Or Out? And Does It Matter Which Side of the Fence You're On?

As we get ready to embark on another fun filled weekend of camping at the beach, I find myself remembering another weekend camping trip...(insert dream sequence music here...)

About ten years ago, mysuestories' then-husband and I took our kids camping with some friends at the local beach. It was one of our first times camping, and we borrowed a tent and some gear and took off for some sun and fun.

Well, there was fun to be had, but unfortunately there was not all that much sun. In fact, one evening as we were trying to sleep in a tsunami strength wind storm on open flat sand, mind you, what else could possibly go wrong? The wind is ripping through the fine, flimsy walls of our huge tent. The protective tarp covering is simply howling and whipping against said tent.

The kids, inexperienced campers that they were, were sufficiently terrorized and unable to sleep in such a chaotic beach of bedlam! And the then-husband and I were not much better off.
But as we tried to brave the weather, a tremendous thunderstorm broke out, thereby ending any chance of catching any sleep after a full day of sand play.

Not only did the lightening and thunder further scare the bejesus out of us (we were after all in a tent with aluminum poles - may as well just be wearing a sign that says Light My Fire, chrissakes!).

Side note: Are you aware, constant reader, that the words water resistant do not in fact mean water proof? Oh, hell-in-a-hand-basket no, it does not!!!!

So, you can imagine, we were now drenched as well as properly terrified in our "tent"/canoe!
By three am, we simply gave up and decided to just pack up the kids and make a mad drive for our homestead, which, coincidentally (or not-I can rough it only sooo much!) happened to be a mere five minutes away!!

We each scooped up a kid and ran for the parking lot and the safety of our car. As we were about to leave the parking lot to hell, we noticed a chain through the goddamn gates across the entrance. Apparently, this particular beach prefers not to allow visitors in after hours. Or out, either. Shit!

Exhausted and cursing silently, we made the kids as comfortable as two soaked to the skin, exhausted, terrified rats could possibly get and settled down for the remainder of our "Night in Hell".

Forget sleeping smashed in a car (although the uncanny ability of my children to fall asleep anywhere during anything amazes me to this day!) , I stewed and cursed (albeit silently), and waited for first light and the park employee who would surely release us from our prison!

About two hours into this new prison cell (read: vehicle), the then-husband and I notice a pre dawn lunatic an early morning fisherman drive up to the chained gate. We kinda chuckle at the dilemma he will now face, being locked out of where we would like to not be locked in! (The irony could kill ya, no?)

Then, to our horror and amazement, the fisherman/axe murderer(?) simply gets out of his car, walks over to the gate, and slips the unlocked chain through the gate!!!! Our hero returns to this car, enters, and simply drives through the friggin' entrance!!!

We may have at that very moment decided that the person sitting beside each other was , in fact, a moron, and divorce was definitely a thing to come, but I just remember being so grateful to get the f**k out of that miserable parking lot in that torrential rain, that our own idiocy was simply not so significant.

Now, the next day, when we returned for our flooded tent, that was significant idiocy, alas a tale for another day!

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Roughing It!

Well, the Memorial Day Weekend is just about upon us. It must be one helluva day to have an entire Weekend named for it!!!! And we here at mysuestories manor plan to celebrate those veterans who sacrificed their time, safety, and lives in order for us to enjoy our life, liberty, and pursuit of all things summer!



We will be participating in an age old tradition for both mountain man and mysuestories (both pre-hooking up and post!)----We're loading up (and hopefully getting loaded as well!) the kids/friends/gear/food/drink...and we're going camping.



Yep, we are gonna shop/pack/gather/chop wood/shop some more and lug all that shit by the truck loads and head in to the great uncharted land that is the beach. The beach that is exactly a six minute drive from our house. A mere hop. skip, and jump from our running water, heat, and indoor plumbing. Right down the damned block from my most cozy down feather comforter and nice firm mattress.



Matter of fact, as soon as those little kiddies get their tent set up and crawl in for an evening of scary tales of wandering murderous one armed slayers, I just might high tail it back to my own little 4 bedroom, 2 bath pre-erected tent...tee hee!



I just loooove roughing it!

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Sgt Strict

Okay- Now I've gone and done it!!! I just had to take this quiz courtesy of T-Mobile. (Not a bad quiz, by the way!) AND I've confirmed everything my kids have ever said about me.


T-Mobile Mom to Mom Quiz: "

Take the fun, Mom to Mom quiz and discover your parenting style.



Great. Now an entire mobile network knows it, too. Oh, and you, dear reader. You're in on the big secret!!!!!!Now Sssshhhhh!!
I hope this doesn't get in the way of my Greatest Mom Award (You don't have to actually be nominated by your kids, do you?)

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

In Be Tween a Rock and a Rock Hard...Oh Never Mind...

Well, it was bound to happen eventually. Saturday night the mountain man and I were revving up for our usual high-time party weekends (read: we were actually watching CSI. And re-runs at that. Yeah. I know. Unbearable excitement, no?)

Anyway, our gaming addict came downstairs to tell us he was riding his bike to a new friend's house where they would be meeting up with more new friends and would be returning HOME ALONE at 9:30 as in P.M. Need I remind you, the gamester is 12 and a half and the new friend lived four blocks away. AND in my part of the world, it is pitch black at 9:30! (It's actually dark by 8:15, but you get the picture!)

And just who were these new hoodlums friends he'd be with? Were there future drug dealers in this crowd? A future crystal meth head in the group? Which one of these corruptible tweens cute pre adolescents would be barreling down the road in 6 years after a few too many drinks?

My mind raced with reasons of why the gamester would no longer be allowed out of our house until well after college : His room was dirty. MY room was dirty. It might rain next week. What if there was a power outage and his cell phone was zapped useless by a bolt of lightening a mere FOUR BLOCKS AWAY??????? What if he got a flat? Or TWO flats? Or if a rabid lochness monster swooped down our quiet tree lined street and.....

It was at about that moment that I noticed both the mountain man and the gamester looking at me with both heads cocked to the side a la Forest Gump or perhaps a dog whom you've just asked the difference between a hypotenuse and isosceles triangle. Yeh. That look.

It was decided (against my rather loud protestations- which apparently are not loud enough to be heard over the logical planning and plotting of my husband and youngest child while attempting a coupe to overthrow my omnipresent powers!)----Pshew-- That was mouthful (or a typing hand full...whatever!)
Anyway , they decided together that I would follow -from a respectable distance- (meaning I couldn't within 100 feet of his bike!) the gamester to his new friend's house so I would at least know where to hunt him down when he was seven minutes late for curfew in 4 years. I entered the new friend's phone # in my cell, in case, ya, know, the power outage/lightning bolt thing did actually happen. We discussed (Okay -I told- he failed to pay any attention- which in our household is a discussion) bike safety and watching the driveways and cars. Forget that these were four blocks of lightly traveled side streets ending in a dead end.

I then followed the little czar overthrowing traitor to his new friend's home where I planned to fingerprint the fledgling criminal to be to hand over the care of my so innocent and precious (hey- it is my story, isn't it?) youngest child into the hands of heathens of untold horrors.

His new friends anxiously greeted us at the corner of the block and greeted me with a "Hello, Mrs. mysuestories," which served to elevate him from hard core con to possible juvenile delinquent WITH MANNERS. He graciously showed me his house, where his dad was outside and came to introduce himself.

The new friend's dad explained that most of the kids in the area hung at the house two doors down where they had an expanse of property and apparently never ending tolerance for tweens.
After assuring me he would in fact check on them in an hour and make sure my gamester called me so I could monitor his FOUR BLOCK ride home, I bid him adieu (I've always wanted to say that- ya know, not like in role play, but just to say it...sigh such small goals for myself, no?) and passed the house two doors down and proceeded to turn around to head back home,....child less.

As I drove past the House Where Kids Congregate, I noticed two things. Many of these kids new to me did not call the gamester by his well thought out birth name (and no, dear reader, gamester is not on the birth certificate! He didn't display those amazing talents till after toddler hood...) Apparently, outside the confines of our home, he was cheerily called by his surname. Just his surname. The one I spent thousands of dollars divorcing. The surname that in no way identified me, the woman who birthed him through 16 hours of hell: me, the woman currently stalking him in a car precisely 100 feet behind his bike: me, the woman who would sit nervously chewing my nails till I followed him home again (from that same 100 feet distance...Jesus, I've had orders of protection that let you get closer to people you hate with guns!)

Second thing I noticed as I pulled away that night? About half of the kids congregating were girls!!!!!!!!
Shit, this called for a whole new lecture on safety and it didn't involve his bike one goddamn bit!
Gave me lots to think about on my four block drive home. Forget the future alcoholic in the group. Drug addiction? We could handle that. We had bigger problems now! Which little flusie was gonna wear the all revealing bare midriff top with too much eye make up in four years? Who was the unplanned teenage pregnancy just waiting to happen down the road? Which giggling goofing girl in that group was gonna break his heart in a few short years?

Dammit! It's the teen years all over again! Shit. Some body wake me when he's back from college!!

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Look at Me I'm Flying AND I Don't Have Wings!

OK, so here we were, 300 feet off the jungle floor somewhere in the Costa Rican jungle. In an attempt at the mountain man's idea of fun, we and some 15 of our nearest and dearest friends were about to go zip lining.


Ziplining, you ask? Yeh. First you climb 60,000 feet up a mosquito infested trails into the deep brush. But not to worry - the mosquiros really don't alarm you as much as the fire ants zig zgging across open toed water sandals. And the fire ants take a place slightly behind the many venomous types of snakes indigenous to the area that our tour guide was more than happy to share with us on our bus trip to this hot spot of resort must-sees!



Finally, atop what seemed like Mt. Everest, (less the snow, plus the snakes) We get to our zip lining destination! Now, zip lining? It's where you strap on a brightly colored helmet (mine was day-glo orange-not my most flattering color!) and they zip (Hence the ZIP part of zip lining!) you into an ill fitting, non-OSHA approved harness that looked particularly uncomfortable for the boys and well, their boys.



Next, we find all 19 of us PLUS guide PLUS 2 Zipping attendanst (?) all standing on one shaky little 10by10 platform built (again, I'm sure without proper permits!) attached to a large tree. No where did I see a maximium weight allowance sign ala Otis Elevators, and I'm pretty sure, at least on my own portion of this make shift tree stand that we were WAY over our "Maximum Occupancy Not to Exceed" limit!



At this point, our guide, Pablo, (or José or maybe it was Prometheus?) explained that we would each be hoisted upon a VERY THIN cable, linked to clasp that looked remarakably like an old key chain I once had. A key chain, mind you, that had broken under the weight of about six keys.



That teensy weensy clasp would, once attached to a similar, equally flimsy looking hook attached to my midsection would be all that would carry me six hundred feet from the current tree stand to a second one in the distance.



Random mysuestories fact- I am not a big fan of heights. Never have been, never will be. At 5'3" (OK 5'2.5") tall, four inch heels is pretty much my reach for the sky limits. I don't do roller coasters, I don't care for the assembled in twenty minutes bumpy slide at every single carnival and street fair....and I don't do swinging from fishing line 300 feet up in the air. Until now.



I let mountain man and a few others go ahead of me. Let's face it. He's a little bigger than I am, and quite frankly, I was willing to sacrifice him in an attempt to test the strength of that wire. Yep, I am a sweetheart like that!



Then I started to think that maybe I should have gone first, 'cause now that wire had maybe, just maybe, given it's last safe ride before starting to fray, and was now eageraly waiting to catapult it's next victim hurtling to the ground.....Great. This was just getting better all the time!



In a panic, I cut in front of the rest of our eagerly awaiting band of friends who seemed unfazed that this could be the last ride of Wyatt Earp and his Immortals. I didn't need anyone else weakening that line before I got on it, damnit!!!



Hoisted up by a hunky, muscled man of about sixteen a park employee, and attached to the fragile line that stood between me and 300 feet of painful forestry just waiting to break my ever loving neck, I was sailed off into the distance.....600 feet through the forest canopy and I almost breathed a sigh of relief...Until I saw the even smaller tree stand I was fast approaching that was attached to a large tree with...was that a mattress I saw wrapped around the trunk? A dirty, weather beaten mattress? With some kind of splotches on it? OHMYMOTHERLOVINGGOD are those BLOOD STAINS on that mattress that I am hurtling towards at 40 miles an hour?



My surge toward the Mattress of Death (How's that for a slasher/p0rn flick title?) -and my accompanying new found religious chant (PleaseGoddon'tletmef**kingdieuphere!PleaseGod,I'llbeakindermoregentlermysuestories!Iwillturnmyblogintoabornagainnotsmashingintotreetributetomy...OHJESUS

MOTHERF**KERI'MGOINNAHITTHATTREE!!!!

All of which was gently ended by my wildly spinning, madly cursing body being abruptly snatched out of the air by hunky tree boy life saving assistant number two.



And how was I greeted by the man I picked above all others to share in the destiny/torture that is my life? "Why, mysuestories," the mountain man started,"Did you notice all those cute little howler mokeys at eye level in the trees? You know, the ones with the razor sharp teeth that Pablo/José/Charleston told us ALL about on the way here? Wasn't that a sight to treasure forever?"



Not nearly as wonderous as the thought of gnashing through HIS beautiful neck with MY razor sharp teeth!!!



Repeat above FOUR MORE TIMES, and mysuestories first (AND LAST) adventures in zip lining above anything higher than five inch stiletto heels are effectively over.



Needless to say, my then eleven year old fruit of my loins, had a bit of a different experience:

From George of the Jungle

He laughed all the way!

Traitor! And yeh, he DID see the cute little howler monkeys.

Oh, and those brightly colored day-glo helmets? I asked Pablo/José/The Grim Reaper about the thin bicycle helmet type headgear. Wouldn't something more more motorcycle worthy be better to protect the unknowing heads of stupid tourists like myself?

To which he replied:

"Those helmets are not so much for protection. After all it is a very long way down. The brightly colored helmets are so we can find you if you fall." And some how, I didn't get the feeling that getting the local EMS team into that inaccessible jungle to perform life saving tactics was part of the plan.

Ooookay....Thanks for that little tidbit!

Mountain man? Might this last little adventure of yours have anything to do with that life insurance discussion we had right before we headed out into the jungles? Well, if you think I am signing up for any double indemnity accidental falling to the ground at high rates of speed while wearing a clashing crash helmet clause ...Well you can just go hug a blood stained mattress at sixty miles an hour!!!!!!!

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

When Opportunity Knocks -See That She Doesn't Steal Your Wallet!

Okay, so we all know all about my Internet addiction, no? (Of COURSE we do, but thanks for not sending out the INTERVENTION hit squad yet!!! I do understand that once I stop making you laugh, I am fair game for a 12 step program---sheesh---the pressure!)

Anyway, so I often troll the Internet, not for p0rn, but for new blog reading material--some of it as good as I've ever seen!---AND as with all trolling, you come across a few diamonds in the rough, a few gems, and the occasional "How the fuck did I get here, and why am I still reading it?"

I'm not sure which category this one fell in, but I stumbled upon Her Bad Mother' Basement, which is an off shoot of herbadmother Her Bad Mother: Hello, Princess
Her Bad Mother's Basement Her Bad Mother's Basement: Sick And Tired

is an anonymous F**k You Forum that encourages people to vent and rant and rave over any number of topics. It's kinda like that accident clogging up traffic....You really just want to get past it, but as you drive past, you automatically slow down for a longer look...
Well, I haven't posted any deep, dark secrets or rants (Breathing easier, mountain man?), but I
have been slowing down more often to look at the crash scene.

Today's post,Her Bad Mother's Basement: Sick And Tired
follows the rantings of one extremely stressed out military wife who is raising her kids solo while her man very valiantly sacrifices his freedom to ensure ours. Commendable couple, no? That's kinda what I thought. Until I started to read the comments....(Of COURSE I read the comments! The comments are like the twisted metal of that accident you just have to watch!)

The first few comment offer up all types of suggestions to relieve the stress of this military mom. (Hey, who says bloggers can't be helpful?). And I thought all was right with the world.

Then I got to the next eight or ten comments starting with Teena from India who so graciously offered our daily damsel in distress her services via international escort. Following Teena (who I'm sure is a fifty year old, five hundred pound, naked balding man in New Jersey), were over half a dozen OTHER "Indian" escort services offering to help out out our overstressed mom.(sorry folks...no direct links here..I provide my own smut on this site!--DO feel free to click on the links above our voyeur the site yourself---)

Now, I'm not 100% certain, but it's my guess our Do It All By Yourself Military Mom is a tad too tired to pursue the invitations of these various Indian sluts ladies of the evenings. Or perhaps I read them wrong, and these inquiries were actually career opportunities for Military Wifey, who clearly sounds as if she requires a change of scenery? In which case, maybe these Escort Service hijackings in the blogosphere is a good thing?

Sigh. Now I don't know if I'm relieved that mysuestories doesn't generate
that kind of response (or any other , for that matter, constant reader!), or is it because they simply don't think I'm pretty enough to be an Internet slut high class call girl?
Sigh. Maybe I should be posting on Her Bad Mother's Basement: Sick And Tired about this shortfall of mine.....

Saturday, May 9, 2009

A Mother's Lament

We (I-the almighty and all knowing mysuestories) preempt today's regularly scheduled mysuestories to bring you a Mother's Day Public Service Announcement:

1. Flowers are always better when delivered to someone who can still appreciate them. Skip the funereal arrangements. Spend that money now!

2. There is no better present than that hand made card or unidentifiable clay ashtray. If you can't afford something, make something. Just don't let the kids glue glitter to the new kitchen table, 'mkay?

3. Breakfast in bed had better include kitchen clean up. Otherwise? Buy bagels. Trust me on this one!

4. Say "I love you, Mom." Don't assume she knows this. She does. But it's always nice to hear!

5. Don't just celebrate your mother. Honor anyone in any way that makes your life a nicer one! It'll make your day nicer, too!

5. If you are unfortunate enough not to have a mother to celebrate this year...my deepest condolences. Plant a perennial flower somewhere in the yard. Add to it each and every Mother's Day. It won't change your situation, but it just may make you smile

Happy Mother's Day!!!!!!

And now, back to our regularly scheduled post:

In my own attempt to revel in the bliss that is Mother's Day, I do solemnly swear to eat the scrambled eggs that may be just a tad too runny, the toast a little too well done. If you make it and serve me, I will eat it! (This also applies to consumption of poorly made cocktails, over done Hot Pockets, and broken OreO cookies, and is not limited to Mother's Day!)

I also promise to hold court from my throne (no, dear reader, not the porcelain one-but the couch!) and bark out commands for more grapes and additional palm leaf fannings on this: the only day that may actually work.

In addition, I will allow you, my beloved family (who don't actually read this blog, save the mountain man, so if you see this, constant reader, please leak this post, okay?)..any hoo, I will allow my family to carry on without me for a few hours while I primp and pamper myself in the salon/tanning salon/hammock or any such combination.

And I will also turn a blind eye this one day to whatever mess I return home to. If you can't clean it yourself, screw it. It can wait another day.

Oh, and as long as we're talking Fantasyland here, faithful blog lurkers, how about gifting me with a few (too many? How about one or two?) comments this week? Maybe? Okay, I'll take it!!

In the mean time, would you like to stop by for some runny delicious homemade eggs and weak coffee? Really! I'd be happy to share. Honest. I would. (Oh boy, would I !!!!!!)

Thursday, May 7, 2009

FUN! FUN! FUN!

I may be a little suspicious by nature (ya think?), but our gaming addict must have found an Xbox methadone clinic nearby. Yesterday, son number 3 voluntarily had his game controller surgically removed put down his gaming gear and did this:
From Mother's Day

Yep! He asked to help change the oil in the mysuestories mobile! (And mountain man? Thanks for not wearing your Sunday best -read: Holy pants!)


From Mother's Day

Ain't he just the cutest little thing?

So what's a responsible mother to do with such a helpful twelve year old? Why you let him drive the car off the ramps!


From Mother's Day

Safety first! (Of course, I made him buckle up first! He is only twelve!
From Mother's Day

And away he went!!!! Down the ramps.
(Screech!)
Up the driveway.
(Screech!)
Back down the driveway.
(Screech!)
Back up the driveway.
(Screech!)

And now all I need is a new pair of brakes. (And hair dye. Please send hair dye!) Oh well, they'll never call him light foot! Sigh.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Cinco de Mayo

What does the average non Mexican full time working mom do to bring a little cultural fun into her family's lives?
I honestly couldn't tell you. But what I did do, was come home from a hard day's work to a fiesta!
From Party Time


It was tacos for all at mysuestories manor!!!!! (Sorry to disappoint, constant reader, but that little tequila bottle in the midst of all that artery clogging food? Simply for ambiance. It is only Tuesday!)


Oooh, and the best part of our Cinco de Mayo celebration? It was all waiting on the table when I got home. (Thanks, Mountain Man! I love ya more than mah luggage!)
From Party Time

Almost!


And another thing. Who on earth would schedule a holiday that promotes over-indulging in spirits, and then let it fall in the middle of the week? (St. Patrick, are you listening as well?)


Oh well, pass the tacos. And hot sauce. Plenty of hot sauce. (Yeh, I can live a little on the wild side. Even on a Tuesday! OLE!

Monday, May 4, 2009

Games People Play!

How do you turn a sweet, mild mannered 12 year old into a money grabbing slum lord akin to Imelda Marcos on a bad day?
From Party Time

Why, you play Monopoly with him, of course!

This dear child became the most ruthless land baron I had ever seen! The lure of the dollars! Those shiny little hotels!!!
From Party Time


That evil maniacle laugh as
his own mother was sent to jail!!!!!
From Party Time

Beware!!!! Trump: The Next Generation!

The little bastard had me mortgaged to the hilt! And then he went in for the kill! Hotels on Baltic AND Mediterranean did me in on my last pass! Shit! $450.00 to land on those dumps?! I didn't stand a chance!

Sure. Laugh now, my little entrepreneur! Wait till Allowance Day! Each real dollar is gonna cost him $200.00 Monopoly money!!! And then we'll play again!

And just wait till the little bugger finds out how much the back rent is for that video game enhanced bedroom he's been squatting in all these years!!!

Hey, if you can't beat 'em, find a weakness and SQUASH 'EM like a bug!!!!!!

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Off to The Races

Today is the Kentucky Derby, and the mountain man and I will be heading over to our local watering hole to watch the race go off. Now, let me preface this by saying that the mountain man and I are not big gamblers, and we know next to nothing about horse racing.

But, we do like to cheer with a crowd (about damn near anything, we will cheer! We cheer for weddings, we cheer for karaoke nites, we have even cheered on the three toed sloth as he completes his homework on occasion! ), and so we started gathering with friends for some of the big horse races.

We make our decisions on which horse to choose quite scientifically. In fact, we generally choose by the horse's name.

In 2006, we placed a wee wager on the Kentucky Derby on the favorite horse to win, Barbaro. I liked the name 'cause it reminded me of Barbarino from the old Welcome Back Kotter episodes of my child hood. (Don't ask, but my sixth grade math teacher was a ringer for Mr. Kotter, and it turned out that teacher had a brother who was a whiz with cars, and serviced mysuestories' mobile for years. That brother had an identical twin who was an anesthesiologist. Imagine my surprise, when I was in labor with the three toed sloth and my car mechanic appeared to enter the labor room to administer an epidural!!!! Talk about a freak out! I actually made him show me his license, proving he was in fact not my mechanic!) OK, so you didn't ask, but how the heck else are you going to learn these random mysuestories facts?

Anyway, so we placed a $10.00 wager on this star horse, and he proceeded to win (Yea, us!!!) Come the Preakness later that season, we again bet on this favored horse to win. Turns out the damned horse fractured three bones in his right hind leg, thus ending his racing career. He was eventually euthanized in Janury 2007.

We missed the 2007 Kentucky Derby, attending a nephew's First Holy Communion. In hindsight, this may have been a good thing for the horses, none of whom suffered as much as a scratch that year!

Fast forward to 2008, and the mountain man and I again tried our hand at horse racing. Or maybe I should say horse betting. After all, the only horse I've ever raced was quite accidentally on a beach at a resort where the horses were half dead and could barely follow a trail. My horse must have had Wheaties that morning with his wild oats, because he decided to RUN LIKE THE WIND, BULLSEYE!!!! I dangled precariously from this mad animal until the guide was able to catch up and beat him into submission gently subdue this crazed horse! (Note to reader(s), gifts of horseback riding trips, not a good mysuestories present!)

Again, I digress. Are you still there, oh constant reader? Yes? Good. OK, so the mountain man and I again wager on the 2008 Kentucky Derby. We placed a $10.00 bet (yeah, we do live on the edge, don't we?)on Big Brown (as in my Rolling Stones favorite tune, Brown Eyed Girl---yes, very scientific pickings, no?). So the bet was $10.00 for Big Brown to win and then, because she was the only girl on in the race, we put another $10.00 on Eight Belles to just cross the finish line first, second, or third (in OTB lingo, that means to Place- which sounds more like a location than a finishing line posting, no?)
So the race goes off, and we're cheeering like maniacs (see above cause for cheering!) with very little knowledge of race horsing form. All I know is that I want my two horses to come in first and second. And guess what, faithful friend of this blog? They did. Both horses came in first and second.
Big Brown finished first and we could hear the ca ching of ill gotten winnings come our way. And then Eight Belles, the belle of the track, came in second, as in PLACE!!! Ca ching again!
Then, before we even got to bask in the glory of the win that was our personal victory, Eight Belles went down in a flurry of motion, and huge screens were placed around our victorious Belle, and right there, track side, BANG!!!! Our horse is now in horsey heaven, where I suppose the horses ride on the backs of little Mexican men in funny hats.

And so today, with the luck of the Irish on our side (at least on half of my side), the mountain man and I will again place a wager on the Kentucky Derby. We may choose Chocolate Candy (obvious choice- this being the mountain man's kryptonite!), or perhaps Mr Hot Stuff (again, a mountain man trait!) or maybe Nowhere to Hide or I Want Revenge (a veiled reference to ex #2).

In any event, if anything SHOULD hypothetically happen to cause the untimely demise of our choosen steed, let it be known that we just aren't good at this.

And maybe, just maybe, next year, the Horse Owners Association of Racing Studs (aka HOARS) will pay US not to wager at all!!!!!

Hey, somebody's got to fill the hole that was my AdSense Google Revenue - And they know of exactly which hole I refer!....(OK, OK, I AM over that whole debacle. Really I am!)

Well, dear reader, I'm Off To the Races!!!!! Wish the horses, er, me, wish me luck!!!