Pretty people piss me off

Well not just pretty people but pretty people who think their poo don't stank.

The girls who walk with their chest out, butt swangin and won't even smile when you pass them in the hall or they almost run into you because their nose is so far up in the air they didn't see you as they were leaving the bathroom...

Well today I'd like to thank the City of Plano Utilities Man for attempting to put one such Pretty Beyotch in her place.

I've lived in the DFW area now for going on eight years and I have been honked at, flipped off, enticed to rear-end someone and tailgated for some of my less than desirable driving techniques. I have also seen the same happen to others, but today was the first time I saw someone get out of their car to berate someone for their driving. Luckily it wasn't for my driving.

I try to refrain from acting out on any of my own road rage ie. excessive honking, flipping people off or yelling...mostly because in Texas there is a concealed weapons law and frankly you just never know who may be packin' and who will flip out and decide to pop a cap in my arse.

I was heading to work this morning on the frontage road of the Dallas North Tollway, at this particular intersection there are 5 lanes. The u-turn lane, one for only turning left on the inside lanes, one for turning left in the outside lane and going straight. The next lane is a straight only lane and then there is the straight or right turn lane.

The Beyotch (who I might add had her blinker on to turn left in a straight only lane), me and the Plano Utilities Man were in the left turn/straight lane and a bunch of other cars were all stopped at the stop light...light turns green and we all go. The Utilities Man and I are required to make a wide left turn, Beyotch is required to go straight...but her in her cutesy little Mazda decide to go left illegally and then proceed to honk and throw a hissy fit to Mr. Utilities Man who is making his wide left turn and almost hits little Miss Prissy Pants who doesn't know how to drive. She keeps trying to nose butt her little Mazda to weasel around him, finally he cuts her off and the nose butt battle stops with no damage or collision.

This is where it gets interesting...Mr. Utilities Man gets out of his truck (pretty ballsy if you ask me given as I stated before you never know who has had a bad morning and is packin heat), and walks toward Little Miss Beyotch and starts yelling at the little Miss Lindsey Lohan. I try to nonchalantly roll down my window to hear what is going on...

While he's telling her he's supposed to be in that lane and she was supposed to go straight, she's flingin it right back at him explaining she was in the wide turn lane and he was supposed to turn into the middle lane...

I wanted to yell out "Lady you weren't even in the turn lane, you're lucky you don't have Mack blazoned on your pretty lil ass for turning left in straight only lane." But I didn't for my fear of the pretty people...

She was still talking smack to her steering wheel as the utilities guy shook his head and walked back to his truck, her arms flailing away throwing a little tissy...

Kinda made my morning...kinda wanted to see some blood

Ya...it's been a while.

I know, I know...I've been busy. I guess that's the best excuse I can come up with. The other might have to do with the fact that I had some really big news and frankly I was afraid I'd blab it on here and then the whole world would know before I even told like my family and friends.

But well now the cat is out of the bag and I feel comfortable enough to get back on here and do my weekly or maybe not so weekly purge of my ramblings.

So what's the big news you might ask? Or maybe not cuz you don't really care...well I'll tell ya anyway, the big news is....I'm pregnant. Yup, me. I'm going to be somebody's mom. So I thought maybe I'd share a few of the joys of being pregnant. Now I'm not going to hold back much, so you may not want to read this if you don't want to know too much about me.

1. Telling people you are pregnant. I absolutely hate telling people I am pregnant. Why? Because it's kinda like telling people you are having sex. I am married, have been for almost three years, but I don't like telling co-workers and casual acquantences that my husband and I concieved after a dissapointing Nebraska loss where I consumed like a bottle of wine and had about 4 shots of 100 proof peppermint schnapps. (Of course I go in to detail about the specifics of the day I most likely concieved, you asked me if we planning a child? No we weren't really "planning" to have drunk sex that specific Saturday afternoon, it just sorta happened that way...am I dissapointed? No, the sex was great, drunk sex usually is, well unless you are too drunk...then its just frustrating) Did I make you feel uncomfortable? Good now we are on the same page.

Another thing I hate about telling people I'm pregnant is that a lot of people automatically look to your stomach when you tell them this. Like I'm already self-conscience enough about my body image, I don't like people looking at me and trying gauge how far along I might be by how fat I am. Just ask already...to my face...you've already asked me if it was planned, why not keep asking intruisive questions...

Furthermore, I know most people don't know this is annoying, but for a hormonal pregnant person it is. Don't ask this question "So are you excited?" Like seriously, what kind of a question is that to ask? And what kind of an answer do you expect to get? I sometimes like to mess with people and say, "No" with no explanation just to see thier reaction. I don't know why but this is a very uncomfortable question to answer and it seems most people ask it. Of course I'm excited, just because I'm not bouncing up and down the walls and shouting from every rooftop that Mr. Vasey blasted some sperm inside me and fertilized one of my eggs in which I am now intrusted with carrying around inside of me for like 9 months, doesn't mean I'm not excited. Nervous is more like it. I mean ya it'll be great to have a kid, one whom will probably be the most strangest lil thing to walk the earth, considering the gene pool it is coming from, but am I excited to squirt a watermelon out of me? Um...no, not so much.

2. Morning sickness. Morning sickness my ass, try all day sickness. The asstard that gave it the name morning sickness can pretty much shove his ever loving head even further up his arse if you ask me. For eight straight weeks, I felt like a warmed over ass turd damn near all day long, couple that with working 60 hours a week, being tired all the time and having to make it through a grueling holiday season. Morning sickness, ya you can pretty much kiss my ass.

3. Backed up and roids. No one ever told me about this. No one ever mentioned that I wouldn't be able to "go" for 3 days. No one told me that when I did go that it would look like a rabbit snuck up my ass and left the droppings in the toilet, even though it literally felt like I laid a rabbit and not its little turds. No one ever told me that becuase of this I would get hemmroids which would cause pooping out these little turds even more painful. And that's just the begining, it goes from little rabbit turds to ... well lets just say I never thought I would say this to my husband "Well that's the first time in about 2 weeks I didn't clog up the toilet."

"Gross," he says. "Why don't you do a courtesy flush?"

"Well you can't when its one piece." (ya I know)

I'm sorry there are no pictures with this post I thought it might be too graphic with the subject matter.

I'm sure someday Squirt (that's what we are naming him/her for now) will be proud of me...for enduring so much to bring him/her to life. And Mr. Vasey as well, as he has had to put up with me for the last 19 weeks and were are only almost half way there...

Me and Mr. Vasey on the alleged day of conception (or there abouts)

And just when you think I over-exaggerate...

This...

Is not a repeat picture. From a previous post.

Nope...

I took these about 15 minutes ago.

The bottle man strikes again.

So I'm not leaving my desk today

So I'm just sitting here working away on one of my reports, when I feel the need to stretch. I roll out, lean back and and let loose with a long ol' stretch...ahhhhhh feels good.

Then I look down, to readjust the pants, when I notice what looks to be (well I won't say what it looks to be, but more of what I know it to be, but others may percieve it as something entirely different) a bunch of doggie snot slash slobber spots on my black dress pants. Which hey...it happens right.

Thing is one of my doggies has this thing, we call him the nudger. Cuz well he likes to nudge your junk. Boy, girl, young, old, it doesn't really matter, he gets his nose right up in there and well...nudges. A tad embarrassing for his owners. But you know everyone has thier little quirks...it's just one of his.

So needless to say, I have a bunch of slobber slash doggie booger stains on the front crotch area of my pants...and I probably won't be leaving my cube at all today.

Well except to leave of course.

It's ok if you steal a car, if it's from a zombie...

Mr. Vasey and I were given these totally cool watches.

Kinda like magical watches, they would do anything we wanted. But they kinda looked like those calculator watches from my childhood.


Well, we took these watches and decided to get some food....at a strip club. I guess they were having one of those all you can eat buffet's. Once we got to the strip club, this is where all hell breaks loose. Someone had gotten infected with, not the H1N1, but with zombie. So I had to use my super special watch to kill a few of the bastards, Mr. Vasey got some too, then we high tailed it outta there.


There was one more bad guy zombie stalking the front door, (as though there is such a thing of a good guy zombie) trying to catch unassuming innocents coming or going, Mr. Vasey got him. Then we were about to get into our car, when we spied a Viper. I thought to myself "Why should I take my crappy car when I can take this car." Told my watch to unlock the door. I tried the handle and it opened.

I looked back and there was a zombie making his way towards us, I don't know maybe it was his car, but he was in no condition to be driving, so I got behind the wheel. Told my trusty watch to start the car, and the engine came to life. Then I pulled away.

I felt pretty good stealing the car since, I figured the owner would be, if they weren't already turned into a zombie, they would be soon.

Mr. Vasey and I then drove off into the sunset.

Then I must've rolled over and someone thought I was awake, cuz then there was the distinct smell of doggie breath....

Going home

So it has been almost a month since Mr. Vasey, Flaire, Steamers and I returned from our very quick trip back to "The Good Life" ... back to Nebraska.

There are some things that I really miss about my hometown, and about Nebraska in general.

First and foremost there is Runza....

Oh how I love me some Runza

There really is nothing like a Swiss Mushroom Runza with Runza fries and everything dipped in a little tub o' Runza Ranch. Runza seriously has the best freaking Ranch in the entire world. It's a little bit like heaven on earth, I'm sure, actually no I'm positive it's heaven on earth. My mouth is watering just thinking about it....oh Runza how I miss thee.

If you have never had a Runza sandwich, then you need to go to Nebraska and have one. It truly is something that everyone should experience. I won't even go into details about how wonderful a Runza sandwich is becuase honestly I don't think you can handle it. Lets just say that it really should be considered one of the great wonders of the world. Those triangles out in the desert have got nothing on a Swiss Mushroom Runza...nothing.

The second thing about my home town that I especially enjoy is the purple house. It's somewhat of a landmark there.

"Where do you live?" one might say..."Oh just turn left at the purple house...."

Or someone lost, needing directions, "How do you get to the high school?" and once again..."Just turn at the purple house and it's a block down on the left."

We don't know street names, just landmarks...and the purple house is one of the best landmarks in town.

She is a majestic beast...a little weathered with time. But there is nothing cooler than having a purple house in your hometown. Especially a purple house with turquois trim, a psychadelic privacy fence and 2 Dish Network satellites in the front yard....

This is the street I grew up on, the same street that I was declared the street tennis champion, even though I've never really played real tennis. The street I ran across every day, without looking both ways, to get to my best friends house. The street I skinned my knee on learning to ride a bike. I ruled this street...


Ya I know, its really not much of a street.

I also took Mr. Vasey down to the crick. (It's crick not creek in these here parts) There was something I really wanted him to see.

This is the same crick that a few of us would tube down in the summers. When the water was high enough, all these rocks created "rapids" and gave us our thrill. This kind of tubing is not tubing for wussies. Many a teenager, myself included, usually came away with a few abrasions due to slipping off said tube, falling on said rocks and getting pushed downstream. But none of us died, none of us needed rescued...all in good fun. No one got their eyes poked out either.


So I made Mr. Vasey take a little walk with me, while I told him a story about the mystery of the Medicine Creek...

The old folks say that a terrible thing happened here about 70 odd years ago... a bunch of teenagers were down here at the crick 'parking' (if ya know what I mean) when the great earthquake of 1950 happened, I believe it was a 9.0 on the ol Richter Scale, and the earth just crumbled beneath them all and launched them straight into the water... They all perished, under her mighty current, they were helpless. The townspeople left the cars in the exact spot where they fell in. They were too devasted, losing so many young people, and also in rememberance of what happened that terrible night. They also used the wreckage as a lesson to the younger generation, to keep their hands to themselves....


No one is sure how many lost their lives that fateful evening. Some say 50 others say 100.


But legend has it, if you go down to the Medicine late at night you can hear their screams and water splashing as they gulp for air and fight for their lives...


Just kiddin', that's not really what happened...but the truth isn't nearly as exciting. Apparently these cars are there simply to stop or slow down erosion. To make sure the banks of the Medicine Creek don't wear away too much and take over the golf course, which is on the other side. See wasn't my story way better?

After our exhausting hike through the wilderness on the banks of the Medicine Creek, I thought I'd capture the tranquility of our downtown. On a Saturday afternoon, most businesses are closed, which allowed me to have my pick of parking spaces.

I really wish I could've seen Stan the One Man Band....





The main reason for the trip though wasn't to go sightseeing. It was really to celebrate the union of a very special pair. The patriarchs of our family. The people who raised seven children out on a farm south of town, the grandparents to over 20, and great-grandparents to gosh...I really don't know...but it's a lot, more than 20. But they've been together for over 60 years, and still share the love they had as newlyweds back in 1949.


So with our bellies full of my Uncle Roger's prime rib and cheesy potatoes, and a red mustache from drinking too much red drink (Kool-Aid to those of you not as saavy as Mr. Vasey and I) we said good-bye to Nebraski. It was a good trip and of course we'll be back.

Although one other thing worth mentioning is this.

If you ever find yourself driving along Interstate 70 in Kansas, make sure you look to the north.

There are simply hundreds and miles of windmills, and we decided that they change direction with the wind as well, becuase we swore they were facing the other way on the way up to Nebraska.

And they are huge, I kinda wanted to get out and go stand by one but they were pretty far off the highway, and probably a lot further away than one realizes. Plus Mr. Vasey said "no". But they gave us enough tailwind to push us along, back home to Texas.


So there you have it, all the sights and sounds from the heartland. From Nebraska "The Good Life"

I'm not a hick...I'm correct

So I'm back from my big, bad, fly-by-the-night trip to the heartland, to "The Good Life", that's right....Nebraska. (I'll have more on my trip later.)

I was talking to Spanks McDuders last night on the phone, we stayed at her casa in the sprawling metroplex of McCook. (pop. 7,994) She wasn't there for the weekend, she decided to take off to California to visit another friend of ours, so we had the run of the place. On the phone last night she asked me. "Um, so I come home, and my dictionary is out, left open to the 'L's' what's that all about?"

It took me a minute to remember, you see after spending the day with the family on Saturday, Mr. Vasey and I retired to the hacienda de Spanky with an 18 pack of Coors Light. I distinctly remember getting the dictionary out but I couldn't remember what we were looking up...

"The only L word that came to my head, that the two of you would be looking up was lesbian, but it was open to the 'lu' page."

Hmmmm still thinking....no we weren't looking up lesbian, pretty sure we both know what the meaning of that is..."Oh yes!" I told her. It all started coming back to me, "we got into a discussion about accents and how, I don't have an accent becuase I'm from the midwest," and he, Mr. Vasey that is, said that even though I'm from the midwest there are things that I say that are distinctly midwestern. Like how I put the word "right" in strange places in sentences, or I say "pop," and not soda or what the people round here call Coke, even if they want a Pepsi they say Coke (now tell me how intelligent that is?) and how I refer to lunch as lunch, supper as supper and dinner can be either or.

Mr. Vasey was brought up that dinner is always the evening meal. And brought up to believe that is correct way to refer to the evening meal. Referring to it as 'supper' is just country in his opinion.

It actually brings me back to a time when his mother called to ask me over for Christmas Dinner one time....the conversation went something like this.

"So I was wondering if you would like to join us for Christmas dinner?"

"Sure," I say. "Would that be dinner-lunch or dinner-supper?"

She, clearly confused by my question, responds. "Well, dinner-dinner."

Me, clearly confused by her response, had to ask again, "So...like dinner at night or like dinner at noon-time?"

"Well...dinner..." she says.

Finally we get it figured out, she meant dinner, the evening meal....

Well I have always been brought up that dinner was the big meal, or a fancy meal. Lunch is just lunch, you have a samich or maybe a burger or something, but if you have a roast for the noon meal, where the whole family sits down and eats, that's a dinner.

For instance, after mass on Sunday we would have a Sunday dinner, a roast or some other hearty meal, and for supper on those days we would have popcorn and milk...num num...

But there would be occasions where the big, sit down meal would be the evening meal, so instead of it just being a supper of goulash or spaghetti, we would have pork chops, mashed potatoes and gravy or something, that again is a dinner.

Just to be clear breakfast is always breakfast as the morning meal, that is unless its brunch.

So that's the way I've always referred to dinner, the big meal, the sit down meal. And Mr. Vasey thought I was wrong. So we looked it up in the dictionary. And just so that everyone else can be clear. Here are the definitions we found.

Lunch: a light midday meal between breakfast and dinner; luncheon.

Supper: the evening meal, often the principal meal of the day.

Dinner: the main meal of the day, eaten in the evening or at midday.

So there. Never doubt a midwesterner when it comes to issues of speech...

Take that "ya'll" I'm fixin ta open a can o woop ass up in herra.