And then there were two...

I'm goin' through the big D and I don't mean Dallas, well actually it has been about three weeks since the divorce was finalized. On the 9th No Longer Easy E and Angelrrific packed up their uhaul and made their way to North Carolina where I believe they had every intention of raising up, taking off their shirts, and twisting them round their head's, spinning them like a helicopter. I also think No Longer Easy E was going to work on becoming a doctor when not taking her shirt off, and subsequently spinning it around her head like a helicopter. None the less, on the 9th I came home from work to find what no longer looked like my home but more like it did when we first moved in and it was just a house....


Change is hard, and anyone who knows me knows I can easily admit to being a bit co-dependent. Though typically used with a negative connotation, I simply just like to be entertained, have someone to comment to about something that just happened on tv or something stupid one of our friends did, and ultimately and don't really enjoy being constantly afforded silence to be with my thoughts.

In that light, I have kept myself pretty busy with a lot of re-organizing, DIYing and wholly making my new, be it quieter, house a home.

My first project was painting a bookcase I acquired from the Kissy Faced Booty Shaker. It was a very light wood colored, simple bookcase which I immediately knew needed to become more 'my style'. I decided on brown for the outside and yellow (to match the couch!) on the inside of the shelves.



In just three short days, and what seemed like 10 coats of paint later I finally finished....that was until I got my coffee table and end tables I ordered in the mail. Though I still loved them upon actual sight, the picture on the interweb of them led me to believe they were a lighter dark brown. So....with this new development I decided I best change back into my paint covered clothes and re-do the brown on the outside of the bookcase or it would have no chance of matching my new furniture. So...three more additional days later I finally, finally finished.


Finishing up the bookcase put me at Thursday of this week. Due to the tv lineup, which includes Rookie Blue (starring none-other than the girl from Stick It), I looked for a project that could be completed while I sat my tiny behind on the couch and watched a girl with too much rock for one hand kick bad guys asses. I settled on a DIY clock project; I haven't really known what time it was when I was in the living room for about three weeks now so that in combination with the tv schedule, it seemed like perfect timing (yes, there was a pun intended).

For something that sounded really simple to make it actually took me about an hour and a half.....but what resulted was perfectly perfect for someone such as myself who only likes one thing more than beer. Pretty simple: clock parts, some pretty paisley fabric, a empty six pack, glue gun, and double sided tape.

DIY 6-pack Clock

What tonight has in store for me I do not know, but I'll find a project, I'm confident of that. What worries me is what I'm going to do with my time when I run out of things to do.

Making some progress....

Vegas-Five, A-One

No one got married (at least that they can remember), no one went to jail, no one got slipped a roofie (or a floorie, or a rappie), and against all odds the four best friends that anyone could have made it safely home to their respective states in relatively unscathed bodies. And that my friends is Vegas in a nutshell.

For the extended version, which includes never heard before outtakes and the truth about what happened in Vegas not only not staying there, but ending up on the interweb via my blog please continue to read.

The truth about Vegas is that it is meant for the young at heart and the young at body….the place where Vegas and I butt heads is that I am only the former. Turns out a three hour time difference makes A sleepy tired at around midnight Vegas time and her desire to head on over to sleepy town greatly outweighs her desire to gamble and go to un-sa un-sa clubs (but then again, my desire to get a root canal outweighs my desire to go to un-sa un-sa clubs).

When I wasn’t going to bed before the buffets and clubs even opened up for the night I was trying to gamble. Trying is the operative word here. Here’s the thing, I’m not really a gambler. First off, in order to win money in a casino you have to be willing to lose money in a casino and quite frankly I’m just not willing. Secondly, gambling makes me nauseous. When I was a child my Momma was HUGE into bingo and it always looked so fun and exciting with the intense looks on the blue hairs' faces, cigs hanging out of their mouths, and the elation when they got to scream BINGO!!!! It truly looked like something I wanted to get all up in. As an adult I went once with Momma to Bingo. What I experienced was feeling like I was going to vom for about two hours. That’s when I learned that gambling makes me nervous. The aforementioned pukey feelings led me and The Gray Lining to mucho time spent setting up shop at the penny slots and waiting for the cocktail waitress to find us and bring us ‘free’ drinks. The way I figure it, I only spent about twenty to forty dollars a day on gambling which lead to free cocktails and consequently quite the buzz, so really I bested Vegas in that aspect as marathon drinking usually doesn’t result in a twenty dollar bar tab. Put one in the win column for A!

Let me pump the brakes for a minute and start from the start. The Gray Lining, Patty Cakes and I arrived at our hotel at around 3:30 on Thursday afternoon. My cousin, Satan's Spawn had gotten in at around 8:30am and with no adult supervision had proceeded to become heavily intoxicated, get up over $1000, and subsequently go broke. He was just as pleased as punch and much happier than anyone I had ever known who had just lost $1,250. There he was, vegas intoxicated with two beers in his right hand and a cigarette in his left, suffering from Drunk Induced Deafness (DID). This little known medical condition, DID, rendered him unable to hear our suggestions on beer drinking techniques that would prevent the beer from pouring uncontrollably out of one bottle while he drank from the other bottle. DID also caused him to speak at volumes only acceptable in noisy bars or your neighborhood retirement home. Apparently Satans Spawn also does not understand the concept of using ash trays for discarding lit cigarettes when he is Vegas intoxicated and finds it completely acceptable to simply flick lit cigarette butts into hotel hallways. Less than two hours into my trip I made the determination that I had one of two options to make this vacation enjoyable. 1. Get, and stay, as intoxicated as Satans Spawn or 2. Get back on the plane and spend my vacation at the beach pub in sunny SWFL.

I will say this for Vegas, its beautiful and shiny and you can have a girl delivered to your front door in less than 20 minutes, basically all the things you read and hear about. What I didn't realize was that in order to 'see' Vegas I would have to step outside of the casino into what can only be described as a giant hooker filled, sparkly oven with free cocktails. They must call it sin city because it is actually where the devil resides, hell. The heat, my god the heat. I live in a tropical location, I moved there because I despise cold and I'm perfectly content having the thermostat in my house set to 79 degrees....but this, this was heat like I had never experienced. Never in my life had I felt a breeze that made you hotter. When outside your skin tingled as if your body was being cooked by not the sun but just by the air. I actually used sun screen at the pool and still was the proud owner of a sunburn after only 10 minutes in the squelching heat. On top of that, its the desert, and my friends, the desert is dry. This was no bueno for my humidity loving skin and by day 5 both The Gray Lining and I were suffering from nose bleeds.

Speaking of heat, do you know what happens when people get hot? They sweat. The ungodly heat caused some chemical reaction in the shoes of Satans Spawn and what resulted was the unbearable stench of pickled cheese emitting from his feet. By day three the smell filled our room, by day four SS threw away all of his socks as they were clearly not salvageable. The Gray Lining and I became concerned that the maids might report us to code enforcement for running a pickled cheese manufacturing business out of a hotel room.

While I could probably go on for days about this trip I'll just round this out with a list of things I learned while in Vegas.

1. If you come home from the bar at 6am, climb over the barrier to the hotel pool and fall asleep on a pool chair, hotel security is "happy" to escort you back to your room.
2. Gambling is no longer a game for SS.
3. You actually can lose weight on a vacation, that is if you walk the entire Vegas strip and completely dehydrate yourself.
4. SS could use some type of medical intervention for his foot odor problem. Shit, scientists might even want to study it.
5. 5 days is too long to stay in Vegas.
6. The Gray Lining and I are 'Sunday Hot' in Vegas, as it was the only day we were given free passes to the "exclusive club" at the pool.
7. 60 year olds, with a bit of work done, are also 'Sunday Hot" in Vegas.

What happens in Vegas....

will probably end up on my blog.

Sin City with The Gray Lining, Patty Cakes and Satan's Spawn until next Tuesday!

It's a nice day for a white wedding

Friends and family flew in from across nation, food was prepared, cocktails were mixed, and vows were written. It is truly an amazing and beautiful thing to see two people so perfectly made for each other make the commitment to be crazy stupid in love for the rest of their lives.

I wish I could perfectly describe the amount of joy, laughter, and love that was shared Saturday as my BMF married his sweetheart. It was a wedding like no other I had ever been to. Thrown by family and friends, small, simple, beautiful. Forty of those closest to the bride and groom gathered at sunset with their toes in the sand to be a part of a day they will forever remember. I had the honor and privilege of viewing the wedding from a different angle than other guests; as the officiant. Long before he put a ring on it, My BMF and Mrs. My BMF asked me that when the day came if I would utilize my Online Ordination I got while trying to avoid studying for a test in college at their wedding. Naturally, I happy and excitedly obliged.

It could not have been more perfect, as if mother nature knew what was happening, she provided us a beautiful sunset, a day without rain and a nice breeze to cool us off. I, as well as most of the guests, made it until Mrs. My BMF began her vows before the water works started, through her words, her smile, and her tears we all felt how true her love was and how much it meant to be able for her to marry the man from her dreams. My BMF spoke with such feeling and adoration, but did not disappoint as his vows ended with a quote from Mr. Brad Paisley. And by a quote I mean a note, as he serenaded her with "What I can't see is how I'm ever gonna love you more, but I've said that before...".

I will remember and cherish forever the day I got to pronounce them husband and wife and officially add another sister to my family. Congrats Mr. and Mrs. My BMF! All of mine.

I kissed a cat and I liked it

Let's Get Physical!

Normally on Sunday's I don't find myself opening my eyes until the crack of noon, let alone actually rendering myself vertical. However this Sunday when the clock struck 5:30am I found myself tying on my running shoes. This weekend was spent in Chicago to participate in the 2010 Chicago Muddy Buddy with The Gray Lining. This was my 2nd go at the Muddy Buddy, my first being with My BMF a year ago in Orlando. I can now say with confidence that the Muddy Buddy Chicago makes the Orlando look like a stroll on the beach.

Several months ago the Gray Lining put up a Google share calendar so we could track our training progress and I have to say I was pretty diligent about getting several miles in 3-4 times a week. I know that isn't top physical form but for a lady of leisure like myself I was as pleased as punch. Even though I was in much better shape than this time last year I don't think there is possibly a way I could have trained to run a race in the Midwest, while living in south Florida. See, in the Midwest there are these things called hills. We don't possess those. Well, let me take that back, I know of one hill. I see it when I'm driving to work everyday. So I guess the only possible way I could have prepared myself for the hell that was the Muddy Buddy Chicago was to go out to our hill and run up and down it repetitively.

The race started off well, me on the bike and The Gray Lining running. I was feeling pretty good and passing people like it was my job, confident that my mountain biking skills were far superior to those around me as I saw the rough terrain cause a couple wrecks. All in all about about a half mile into the race I thought "Two Girls One Bike" were going to make this Muddy Buddy their biotch. About a quarter mile left in my initial biking leg I came upon a mud pit, about 8 feet wide and 12 feet long. Race volunteers instructed the bikers to carry their bikes through the pit which left me about ankle deep in mud and about knee deep in water. While focusing on not falling the thought that I had to finish the remainder of the 5 miles with shoes weighed down by mud and water didn't even enter my mind. Don't worry, that thought quickly made its way into my consciousness as I dumped my bike off at the first obstacle and started on my mile run.

After that it was Bike, Run, and Bike again with a few wall climbs and army crawls tossed in between before I met up with The Gray Lining to finish out the last quarter mile of the race. What happened next is etched in my brain and as it turns out etched in my flesh. Once again the race volunteers instructed us to pick up our bicycles and to hop into what can only be described as a ditch filled with water run off from a horse/cow pasture. Imagine that lovely smell. All was well until I went from knee deep in the poo water to thigh deep in the poo water. Apparently the ditch came complete with what seemed to be underwater pot holes. With the weight of the bike on my back and no available hands to use to stop my forward momentum my shins bared the brunt of my entire weight + the weight of our 1994 10 ten speed as they smacked into the concrete edge of the underwater pot hole. Thankfully some other racer pulled the bike off me, as The Gray Lining continued for the finish. After realizing amid my screams that I was injured The Gray Lining came back to assist with the bicycle while I hobbled through the remainder of the ditch bleeding, battered, and covered in poo water.

As with any Muddy Buddy the race finished with a crawl through a mud pit and a run to the finish. It wasn't pretty and it certainly wasn't graceful, but we completed the race in 1 hour and 9 minutes. Overall, I will call it a success and only had one request for next year...that The Gray Lining and I compete on flat land next year in the Sunshine State.