Toe Adventure and Weekend Fun

Friday night, Mr. Hottie Von Schnauzer (Will) took me to my first live performance of Phantom of the Opera. I've never been to a play / musical before and I definitely enjoyed it. Though there was a moment, when I couldn't take my eyes off the signers for the deaf. They were really getting into it. Their faces, hands and body were just going to town. We couldn't say these signers were monotone or part statue. On Saturday, we took our friends Bev & Dave to get pedicures. Ok, so how come there is a definite difference between men getting pedicures and women? How come the women in the nail place totally cater to the dudes. Geez, I was slapped in a non-working massage chair, quickly clipped, scrubbed and painted, then my butt ejected out of the chair before the men were even close to being done. And they don't even get polish on their toes! You know, I tip just as good as the men, please my toes are in way better shape. Anyway, our friend Dave had his first pedicure. I looked over at him at one point and his eyes were rolling back in his head from the massage chair action and the little Asian massaging his tootsies. After all said and done, he proclaimed the salt scrub was his favorite and he would definitely go again. Oh gosh, we created a pampered monster. After that was over, Bev and I dropped the boys off at a restaurant, so we could get a massage. Have to love that. Spoil me some more! Though the masseuse probably thought I was strange, because I asked her not to trash my hair, since we were all going out after the massage. She did a great job and the only signs of my massage were the red marks on my face from having it pressed into the pillow donut thing and the drool marks on my chin. After the massage, we all met for dinner and then decided to go to a local casino. Where they bent all of us over and took all our money. Ok, that shouldn't be a surprise, but more times then naught, we come out with a little extra cash. I left there feeling like they turned me up-side-down trying to shake change out of my shorts. Regardless, or lack of winning, it was an awesome weekend. I vote a repeat of the weekend, except change the part were I lose my shirt and coin to the casino. Have great work week all!

Thanksgiving and Turkey Lips

Oh my gosh, it's November! Yes, I said November! It's one of my favorite eating times of the year. Nothing more exciting then getting together with family and friends that bring all your favorite annual holiday dishes. I always consider myself a bringer and not the baker. Which in so many words, I don't have Thanksgiving dinner at our house. I would rather tote my goods and my hungry self over to my mom's place for the feast. It's always a fun place to be during the holidays. Along with the great smells and the wonderful people, there is my awesome mom. You can hear her call her kids and my dad by her designated pet names. example: Hey, Hair-Head! Hey, Turkey Lips! My dad's nick name is not for repeating out loud. Even the cat, Pedro has several nick names. Which nick name he gets all depends on how much he is annoying my mom. I'm not sure when the turkey lips nick name came along, but it seems to be a staple in my mom's nick name selections. I think we all find it strangely endearing. Because every one knows that turkeys don't have lips. Guess it's cuter then calling someone a turkey butt, or turkey neck. Which could get you karate chopped in my family. Hair head, needs no explanation. You got hair, you are a hair head. Hmmm, I wonder what she would call someone in the family if they went bald? Let's not find out. :) Happy Tuesday.

p.s. I didn't eat my chinese food at work that day. I saved it for lunch the next day. So there is hope for me yet.

3 for Chinese

Today I had lunch with two of my best-ees / BFFs. Sarah and Benita picked me up for lunch and we went to one of our local Chinese haunts, China Chile. Awesome chow and those wok'ers and servers are quick! They definitely don't want you there for 4 hour!


So why is it that after you eat Chinese food, you are hungry an hour later? I'm sitting here thinking about the left-over box of shrimp with veggies setting in work fridge right now. Anyone touches it and they will lose digits! Actually, I'm obsessing about the magic veggie box. I watching the clock, counting the minutes when I will be hungry enough to grab up the box of prawns and veggie joy. But I'm still not hungry. Dang it! I could do what I've been to known to do in the past and eat it anyway. Then complain to every co-worker within ear-shot that "I can't believe I ate the whole thing." Isn't funny that after leaving an Asian restaurant, the patrons start trying imitate the Asian server? Awe! Chop Chop, etc. I can't remember a time when I walked out of a Mexican restaurant trying to talk like a Mexican server? "It's cold out here, I need my Yacket" Just not the same funny zing. But then I leave a Mexican restaurant so darn full, I normally can't speak for fear I might reflux my beans & rice. Gosh, what would you say if you left a German restaurant? Talk about the waiter's wiernerschnitzel?
Ok, so my food is still in the fridge and I'm mentally fighting with all my might to keep it there until breakfast time tomorrow morning. Hey, breakfast is what you eat, right? And right now I want breakfast to be shrimp, rice & veggies. In my next blog, I will let you know if I held out or if I tore up the cute little box of Asian sunshine before the day is out. I think I can, I think I can.....
To be continued......

This is My Mental Bucket

This is my Mental bucket. As you can see, my mental bucket a.k.a. "MB" has a yellow shovel. I use my shovel to put many things into my MB. Sometimes I shovel crap-o-la, which you can ask Will, I'm really good at. Sometimes I shovel a pile of mental notes into my MB, which I will end up forgetting and have to eventually write them down on paper or send myself an email reminder. Though mental notes made about a spousal unit are put into the long term mental bucket, because we women won't let them forget any slight or mishap. That's our job. Let me pull a little example out of my MB that would be a long term note. Um, hey honey remember the time you made a bathroom reference stating I was taking a bus load of kids to the pool? Which my mental bucket spit out the translation of, "What? you think my butt is as big as a bus?" Ok, so I twisted his words around a wee bit just for the sick satisfaction of watching him squirm, back-track and try to rephrase the sentence. Oh the shear joy of tormenting! My MB can also struggle with the fact that my teen-age daughter, is growing up so darn fast and I really miss just chill'n with her. But I've also learned to cherish the moments when she acts like she still likes me. Which last for about 10 seconds, and then I'm back to being an annoying pain in the teenage butt. I have to be honest, at times I do enjoy razzing her. Sometimes my MB goes haywire. My shovel starts acting like a back-hoe and my MB over-flows with chocolate. MMmmmm Chocolate. That's when my MB is filled with Pre-mental Sand. There is one thing my bucket is never lacking. That is love! Even when my bucket it teetering and threatening to spill, there is always an abundance of wonderful people in my life. So shout out to the wonderful people and don't forget to add more chocolate. Monday Rocks!

http://health.yahoo.com/featured/46/8-mind-boggling-optical-illusions/

Grumpy Butt, the Diet and Orange Cream Sherbet

Yesterday I officially started my pre-wedding / honeymoon in Hawaii diet. Big sigh. I'm not sure why this happens, but the first week of my diet usually means I am going to be one grumpy crabby "B." Now I'm not the type of person to starve myself, in fact, I enjoy eating healthy. I think it's more like mental deprivation, then actual food deprivation. Heck, it takes me a week to gear up just to make the announcement at home, that the junk food festival is OVER. The other night, I was having my allotment of Orange Cream sherbet. When I decided it was time to ditch the carton. So I sat the carton in the sink, thinking I would wait for it to melt, then dump it down the sink. Well, the saboteur, I won't name any names, Will, put the carton back in the freezer. Not to be detoured, the next night he served me up my small allotment of sherbet. When he wasn't looking, I quietly put the closed container in the garbage. Well, Mr. Ruin my diet figured out what I did with the container and retrieved it from the garbage. Darn dumpster dive'n, trash pick'n saboteur. They say, third time is a charm. So this morning while "Save the Sherbet" man was snoozing, I hid the half empty container in the bottom of the garbage. By the time he finds it, it will be liquid orange cream sauce! I'm safe. Well, until I'm hit with a mountain of PMS hormones and I decide that I will die if I don't have a piece of Dove chocolate. Which I can't mentioned in front of the Benedict Arnold of diets, because then there will be fridge full of chocolate stored to sooth the savage PMS beast. Now that is love. So one minute I love him dearly for taking care of my savage PMS chocolate craving and the next minute I' m ready to thrash him for making me break my diet. Gosh, poor guy! Good thing he isn't afraid to stare down into the face of danger, me. Without sound overly mushy, I love that man! TGIF

My Dad's Train Hobby

It's here! The Adobe Mtn. fall meet (Oct. 16-18). Ever since I can remember my awesomely cool dad has been into trains. Back in the day, in our basement in Indiana, my dad had set up a really cool H.O. train "play room." My brother and I got to hang out there while my dad played. Yes, the train play room was more for my dad, but he didn't mind sharing with us too. There were tiny mountains, bridges, over-passes, under-passes, towns and little mini-everything. It was such a cool place and a great hobby to keep my dad out of my mom's hair, for the most part. Well now, ump-teen years later, my dad is still into trains. Except now the mountains are real and there is no basement. Because trains of this size wouldn't fit into a basement anyway. My dad, mom and family are members of the Maricopa Live Steamers. This is mostly made up of a group of mature adults, a sprinkling not as mature adults and a few kids too. These train enthusiast spend most of their weekends tinkering with their trains, which can cost a small fortune I might add. They also spend most of their weekends expanding the track, fixing the track and adding fun little touches along the routes. There is a great sense of family and fun when attending their events. Maricopa Live Steamers is a not-for-profit organization. They offer train rides to the public on weekends between Labor Day and Memorial Day, for an optional donation. You get a cool button if you toss a couple of bucks into their donation can. All proceeds are put right back into the train park. Plus they have a really cool train traffic coordinating system for their miles of track. Red light, green light.... Oh the boys and their toys. If you get the chance, please check out their website. Happy Riding. Choooo Choooo

http://www.maricopalivesteamers.com/

We are back from Vegas! The girls had a great time and so did the parents. The girls got to experience a bunch of firsts. First time in Vegas, first time in a limo, first time in a taxi and a bunch more stuff. It was Sara's goal for the weekend to see a transvestite or as she likes to call 'em a trannie. Her goal was accomplished on the last day when we stopped at a Boulder City McDonald's. The girls enjoyed having their own room, connected to our room of course. They also took advantage of room service. I should have taken the picture of McKenzie with a giant piece of chocolate cake in her hand, tearing it up like a wild beast. Both girls made me proud when they had two plates on their table while at the buffet. Talk about a buffet load of food. On the last day we went to the wax museum. The girls loved that. Had to keep McKenzie from dry humping the Johnny Depp statute. Guess she has a slight crush? I was worried they had a policy if you break it, you buy it. I don't think I could afford to fix a headless Johnny Depp wax figure. Luckily we were able to pry her off. We also went to the Shark Reef at Mandalay Bay. Which was totally cool. What was even more interesting was they were having a tattoo convention in the same location. I've never seen so many mo-hawks in my life and that was just on women. For some reason, my daughter has this fixation with tattoos. She doesn't want to get one, but loves to look at them. So we took them to an air-brush tattoo artist and let them get a fake one. By day two it was smeared from the alcohol in the perfume they sprayed on their wrists. On the last night we went to the Circus de Soliel, Mystere. The girls loved it! That was the quietest they were the entire trip. It was definitely a fun time for all. Though the next Vegas trip is going to be adults only! Cuz we are going club'n. :)

Vegas Baby

Well peoples, this is the big Vegas weekend. I had promised my 16 year old that I would take her on a fun trip for her 16th birthday. Her birthday was in July, but I pointed out to her that she was 16 for the entire year. You might be asking why the heck would I take a 16 year old to Sin City? Well for one, it was her choice and two there are plenty of things for a family to check out in Vegas. Just think of all the experiences she will have. One example, walking down the strip and having all the "card clickers" that's what I call all the people passing out half naked cards of women to men. These people hit the cards on their thighs, tap them with their fingers, anything to get your attention. Half the time the strip is littered with the pictures of women whose parts have a star on their parts. Only in Vegas! The other fun thing to check out is all the shows. We have already lined up two shows. No topless reviews.... The MGM now has the new CSI Experience. It's were you get to solve a crime with a simulated version of one of the CSI characters. Sounds interesting. One of the most entertaining aspects is watching the hordes of people chow down at the buffets. There are some serious eaters out there. Probably not a bad idea for these buffet places to offer wheel chair service after you eat. One of my daughter's request was to go to Caesar's Palace, so she could see where they filmed the movie "Hangover." You can all bank on it that we will be shopping. Shop shop shop. Shop until we drop. :) Can you tell I'm looking forward to this trip? Of course the adults will get some time on the Blackjack tables. Wish us luck! Go Big, or Go Home. Penny slots here I come.

Have an awesome weekend people!

Have you ever noticed?

Have you ever noticed that there seem to be more plump guys on motorcycles, then there are skinny guys? Honestly, is it just me or has anyone else noticed how the bikes are getting smaller and the riders are getting bigger? So I'm driving down the road thinking of some funny song titles for hefty dudes on Harley type bikes. Here is what I came up with.

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1. Born to be Wide

2. Bad to the Blubber

3. Two Tickets to Paradise Cafe

4. Rock'n down the Jenny Craig Highway

5. Magic Chaff-it Ride

6. Flirt'n with Dino-asster

7. Against My Wind

8. 30 days in the Buffet

9. Fire on my mountain-ass

10. Knock'n on 7-11's Door

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No large men were hurt or abused in the making this blog.

How do you know......Farm Version Top 5

How do you know if you have the Sheep flu? Your symptom are: (1) a fear of wolves (2) a woolly feeling in your throat (3) a cough that sounds more like a baaaa baaaa (4) a fixation with Serta mattress commercials and (5) always looking over your shoulder, for fear someone wants to be Little Blow Peep the porn version a.k.a Sheep Gone Wild.

How do you know if you have the Goat Flu? Your symptoms are: (1) a fear of rubber-bands (re how to fix a goat cheap) (2) the table magazines are looking very delicious (3) everything is looking edible (4) a cough that sounds like naaaaa naaaaa and (5) the over-whelming feeling of wanting head-butt people in the backside.

How do you know if you have the Cow Flu? Your symptoms are: (1) large splotchy areas starting to form all over your body that resemble the Rorschach inkblot test (2) large leaky utters forming above your belly (2) a cough that sounds like mooo mooo (4) the need to be called Bessy and (5) the urge to constantly chew on something called feed. Yum

How do you know if you have the Horse Flu? Your symptoms are: (1) a large amount of hair starts growing out of your backside (2) you are constantly prancing and galloping (3) your cough sounds like a whinny, neigh, snort (4) you starting counting by stomping your fo-hoof and (5) You can swat flies with you tail.

How do you know if you have the Pig Flu? Your symptoms are: (1) you just got back from a Mexico vacation (2) you find yourself face first, and ass up in the garbage can (3) your cough sounds more like a grunt (4) your house resembles a sty and (5) you watch Charlotte's Web and Babe for the 100th time.

Happy Tuesday

The Cottage Cheese Curse

This blog entry is dedicated to the womanly Cottage Cheese Curse we like to call cellulite. There are many different ways to describe thigh junk. Examples, cottage cheese, dimples, bumples, lumps, divots, craters, bubble wrap, mashed taters, etc. Experts say approx. 90% of all women have some form of cellulite. Do you know what that tells me? That the other 10% are freaks of nature! This 10% will never look in the mirror and compare their thighs to a sack full of walnuts. They are not "normal." Freaks! Honestly, I don't think there is anything wrong with being lumped with the 90%. I like being a part of a majority. We women that constantly squish our thighs analyzing each lump, are not alone. I think we should be proud of our investment into making our thighs look more womanly. Sure if we get carried away, we get the old panty hose swish. But who cares! Yes, we can start small forest fires when our flannel pants get a little heated up while camping. Look at it this way, you will always have a fire source if you matches get wet. Of course, we can trap a burglar in a scissor death grip with our thighs. Nothing wrong with slightly restricting the airway of a law breaker. Best of all, our womanly thighs make us more womanly. So the next time you see some stick figure woman with legs that resemble a corn stalk, give her a shout out. Eat a freak'n hamburger! "You Daddy-Long Leg Freak!" :)

Nerds Rule!

Over the weekend, my daughter and I had a fun time hanging out while my hottie husband von schnauzer played in a golf tourney. Have to love the mani-pedi session. Purdy toes! Here you see us sporting the latest in 3-D fashion. Sunday, we all went to the movies to see Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. Now we all realize this is a kid's movie, but my daughter and I love 3-D movies. We pretend we are nerds before the movie starts. I think she looks adorable in her shades. I look like I just had cataract surgery. Wow, I also just noticed that she and I are wearing are hair parted on the same side. Hmmm. If it weren't for her dark hair, she might be a mini-me. Don't tell her I said that, because she would protest and ask every passerby if we look alike. I'm not showing a picture of my man (Will) with his 3-D glasses on, but if you can picture this, he looks like a Ken doll impersonating lighter haired Clark Kent. Sup? Super-Man! The movie was extremely cute and funny. Word of advice. Don't go to the movie hungry or you will end up drooling all over yourself and your stomach may sound like an angry lyon. I love the Mr. T character, Earl. Also over the weekend, we coined a couple more car/violence phrases. I'm sure most of you have heard of the phrase Slug Bug and then you punch the person closet to you. Well we've added the phrase Copper Chopper. Every time we see a police car, we karate chop the person next to us. I've also added PT punch for PT Cruisers and Tanker Tap for large milk, oil or other type tankers By the time we get out of the car, we look like we just came from fighting in an UFC octagon. We all were trying to come up with a catchy phrase for a van. If I haven't mentioned it, I dislike driving behind vans. (no offence my besty van drive'n co-worker, Lisa). But we fell short in giving a van a proper violent move. Unless you count the person who blurted out in the car "van spam." I won't be naming any names, because we had some fun with that one. I wasn't sure if they were talking about computer spam or Spam the mystery meat. Love you van spammer.

Happy Happy Happy

My list of happy things.

I am happy that every morning, I wake up to see another beautiful sunrise. Once I say hola to the sunrise, I am happy that I am waking up next to the man I adore and love. I am especially happy that I'm a mom. Making breakfast for my awesome daughter adds a little more happy to my morning. I get happier once I've had my morning caffeine. Darn perky happy! I am "thankful happy" I have a job, where there are people like me, worried about the economy, but making the best of what they have. I am happy that I have my health, though some would debate my mental health is degrading. I think they are jealous. I am happy I have a wonderful family. They are always there to listen, nudge me in a positive direction. Even when I'm not feeling so positive and laugh with me when I'm having a mental moment. Maybe my entire family is mental and we just laugh because "that's how we roll?" I'm happy I have great friends, fun friends. If ever I am struggling to find my peter pan "happy moment' they make a crack or remark that makes me smile. Yes, even my friends are happy people too. My cat makes me happy. Random I know, but Anna the cat really is a sweet heart, even when she is scoot'n her butt on the carpet or shredding the faux leather on the bar-stools with her claws. I am happy my car (a.k.a rattle trap), gets me to work and back. It makes me happy when I drink chai tea in the afternoon at work with my work besty Lisa. It makes me happy when I get a courtesy wave from another driver when I let them into a lane. (I'm really thinking, "would you go already" but I'm smiling on the outside) Ok, I'm not that crazy about getting older, but since I am, I might has well enjoy every day, minute and second. I don't mind being that happy old crazy woman one day. But not the crazy old cat lady. No way. Chocolate makes me happy. Chocolate goooood. So my day ends, I drive home from work and I'm happy about seeing another sunset. Except I drive home when the sun is eye level, so I can't be 100% happy until the sun hits the mountain and I am no longer blinded by sunlight. Wow, I'm having a deep moment, sort of. Don't worry folks, it will pass, just like gas..... :) P.S. This is the shorter version of my happy list. Figured you didn't have all day to read my happy things. There could be a two part-er. I'm kidding! Happy Wednesday.

Football and Rowdy Drunk Fans

This weekend I had the honor of working the home opener for the Arizona Cardinals vs. 49ers first regular season football game. I have to admit, I'm a bit confused about the fan mentality. I don't get how a person can spend $100 smackers on a ticket, get drunk off their keesters and then be tossed out of the game or escorted to the lovely holding cell (drunk tank) in the bowels of the stadium. So, should we blame it on the pre-game party also known as the tailgater brew-ha ha. Some of these tailgaters have massive set-ups. They have big screen TVs, BBQ grills, a kitchen, surround sound stereo system, an out-door living room and a butler. These fans put more money into their tailgate set up, then they do their homes. My favorite is the redneck tailgater. It's the two dudes with the home-made face paint, the old beat-up pick-up truck, the two ratty lawn chairs in the back, ice chest full of beer and a six foot sub on their tailgate. Add the tank top with the arm holes that reach down to their beer guts and you have a party waiting to happen. Nothing sexier then a guy with a beer gut and one nipple peeking out of his tank top sleeve. I'm really kidding! Ick. While at the stadium there was a drunk father and son that decided to pick a fight with a San Fran fan. I didn't see what happened top side, but when they brought the two down to the dungeon, the son was missing his pants. How proud his dad must be walking along side his son in handcuffs and his tighty whities. Funny, the kid was acting all tough one minute and then whimpering to his dad, "what should I do" Well here is some sound advice, don't listen to your dad because he is handcuffed too and both your drunk butts wouldn't be in Cell Block C (cardinals) if he was a responsible dad. It's not just the men, but the ladies were just as bad. Hey ladies, you do not look attractive stumbling around drunk in the stadium in your hooker heals, booty shorts and ripped t-shirts. Really, you don't look hot hugging the cement pillar while your drunk girlfriends runs from booth to booth looking for lemon slices to settle your stomach to keep you from blowing chunks! Please don't ralph that Cardinals foot-long hot dog and nachos with jalapenos in public! Taint pretty! But seriously, the majority of the fans are pretty cool and are nice to the rival fans. There are just a few drunks per game that keep the post-game basement dwellers entertained. Hey people, be nice out there. Happy Monday.

TGIF Babeeeeeee

Did I happen to mention that Friday is one of my favorite days of the week? There are lots of good things happening on Friday. It's the day when most businesses let their employees wear jeans for the 'ol designated casual day. Most people get paid on Friday (um, not me) and it's the day that kicks off the weekend. Friday is the "meet your friends at the restaurant/bar night, drink until your clothes fall off and kick yourself for ruining your entire weekend night." Friday night you know you are going to need that ultimate medicinal greasy hamburger hang-over cure the next day. I'm kidding. Those days of "one too many" are a thing of the past. I'm getting older now and it takes me a week to recover, when it used to take me a few days. Plus I don't want my 15 seconds of fame to come from a You-tube video clip. Bring on the weekend! Speaking of the weekend, tomorrow I will be golfing at The Phoenician and trying out my new Tour Edge hybrid. Watch out cactus, small desert creature and beer cart gal. Hopefully my golf ball will be the only thing flying and not the four-banger words, like FORE, DUCK or OUCH (that had to hurt). Maybe on Monday, I will have an impressive golf story, like how the fire department had to rescue a stranded golfer trying to get her ball from the side of a mountain. Maybe the fire department will be called out, because I tried to mow down a jumping cactus with the golf cart? Definitely a sticky/prickly sit-gee-ation. I can't help it if the darn accelerated tends to stick. Just ask Will. At one point he was a potential target when I decided to try and drive the golf cart with my left foot. He almost had to do a Starski and Hutch hood slide over the top of the golf cart. I learned a valuable lesson that day. My left foot and an acceleraters don't mix. Sorry baby! Fingers crossed I don't hurt anyone golfing on Saturday. Everyone have a great safe weekend! Be thankful every day you get to see another sunrise! Drink responsibly and stay thirsty my friends!

My fake addiction

What is my fake addiction you ask? According to my crazy friends, I'm a sharpie sniffer. Yep, I can whip the cap off a sharpie in 1.2 seconds and have half the contents inhaled through my left nostril before you can say, royal blue proboscis. The running joke is: the end of my nose looks like rainbow skittles after a much needed fix. Their stories of my sharpie addiction keep getting more exggearated. Legend has it, I fought to the death with a little old lady for the last pack thin-tip sharpies at the dollar store. She could swing her walker like a pair of ninja numb chucks, left her false teeth stuck in my neck and kicked me several times with her rock-like orthotics. After the dust cleared, I managed to crawl away with one green sharpie in hand and a pair of false teeth on my neck. Victory was mine! Really folks, I don't need a sharpie intervention. I like to think that my sharpie whiffing is a form of artistic expression. Besides, I'm not breaking any laws. There are no D.U.I.S. (driving under the influence of sharpies) check points. Cops don't have a sharpie meter to measure how many colors of the sharpie pack I've actually been through. Don't hate! Don't forget, my favorite color is blue and shapries make great stocking stuffers. Tell Santa I've been a good girl!

ew-weeee Back to the Grind!

Can you all believe the 3 day weekend is over? Gosh, next time remind me not to blink! I guess it's true about what "they" say. Whoever "they" may be. Time flies when you are having fun or is it, time flies when you get older. Regardless, I'm having loads of fun and getting olderWhich I don't plan to stop either, because for one, I can't stop getting older, physically. Mentally is a whole different can of nuts and I refuse to stop having fun. Here is our weekend in a nut shell. Friday night, BBQ. Saturday, Party. Sunday another BBQ and Monday, yet another BBQ. I'm seriously thinking about swearing off eating beef. Geez, I guess Labor Day weekend the stores must have massive sales on beef, cuz that was, "what's for dinner" the entire weekend. I never once had to ask "where's the beef" cuz it was like a bovine buffet. We might have to rename Labor Day, to Carnivore Feeding Frenzy Day. One interesting highlight, while at one of the BBQs, a party goer brought in a big bag of home-made Jell-O shots. They were definitely yummy, but again, most of us know what Jell-O is made from. Yep, we are full circle back to the bessy the cow thing again. Gosh, if you are what you eat, then after this weekend, that would make me a COW! Good thing I practice eating in moderation, or I would be mooing about now. Lucky for me, I've never heard of a cow being named Susan. Probably good thing I like to workout, or I would be wearing a moo moo. I thought my little play on words was kind of funny. "moo moo" hahahaha I'm sure most of you are smacking your foreheads about now and thinking you are glad I don't quit my day job. Regardless of the butt load of beef being served, I had an awesome weekend. I was able to spend the weekend with my awesome family and some really great friends. Hey friends and family, the next long weekend, can we have a foul weekend instead?

Golf Self-Analysis

It's been officially one year this month that I started golfing. Hard to believe one year has passed since I started smacking balls around at the driving range, golf lessons and attempting to golf my way through various courses in and out of Arizona. For the first time golfer, hitting the driving range and lessons are a must. I didn't realize my swing was all over the place, until I took lessons. My golf pro instructor kept saying I was meant to play golf. I told him, you have to say that, because I'm paying you. Of course my swing wasn't nearly as bad as Charles Barkley. I've come a long way baby. During those not so great games, I often rely on my many excuses for my not so hot round. Like, (1) you can dress me up, but you can't make me play; (2) I shouldn't have eaten that giant bean burrito for dinner last night; (3) I am in desperate need of new clubs, because of course it's not me, it's the clubs; (4) evidently I need to drink another bloody mary to loosen up my swing; and (5) there is a cosmic force taking control of my ball. I also like to use the excuse that I have a remote control ball and someone has tapped into its frequency and they are making it drift right. Yep, right into the bushes or the sand trap. I also told my beloved Will that I evidently need a vacation in a tropical port, since my golf ball wants to beach itself. Next round of golf I'm going to bring an umbrella drink, play calypso music and plant a chase-lounge chair in the sand trap next to my half buried ball. Figure if I can't beat 'em, I'll join 'em. Beach Blanket Golf Bingo. Move over Anette and Frankie! (ouch, dating myself) Honestly, I'm having a great time golfing and look forward to the day when I beat the golf nickers (he actually wears shorts) off my man on the golf course. Yes, one day I will beat him. And that doesn't mean knocking him over the head with my five iron! That would break my club and make me iron deficient. Keep on Clubbing! Have a great Labor Day weekend!

Ode to the Margarita

This blog is dedicated to my on again off again relationship with the margarita. Arizona is known for having some of the best Mexican food ever! When I say ever, I really mean ever. What better way to compliment the best Mexican food ever, is with a margarita. Yep, this frozen, frosty, sometimes on the rocks concoction makes the best Mexican food ever, taste even better. Here is a list of some of my favorite places to enjoy a margarita. You could say this is my stab at being a local restaurant critic. These restaurants aren't in any type of fave order. First we have Chevy's. They have a very nice variety of fruity margaritas, along with really good Tex Mex style Mexican food. They also make their own tortillas and make you wear a funky sombrero when it's your birthday. Trust me, anyone looks good in a sombrero after a couple of margaritas. They also let the little ones have raw tortilla dough to play with, but most of the time the parents grab it up to try and make some twisted dough bunny. My second haunt would be Arribas. These people make some "fire in the hole" Mexican food. No wonder they sell plenty of margaritas. It's to extinguish the flame in your mouth. Their food may be hot hot hot, but it's good. No sure it's so good when you re-experience it later. It's worth a little discomfort. My next choice would be a local place called Macayos. The President and family ate at Macayos when they visited Phoenix this year. The plates are heaping and their margaritas are delish. Though for some strange reason after I eat their salsa, I can taste it for days. I kind of wake up in the morning with garlic fire breath. Yep, I'm a dragon / dragg'n. There are so many more great places I need to write about, but I figured I'd stop here. Remember, drink responsibly and Stay Thirsty My Friends.

Shout out to my besty co-worker Lisa. Hope life settles for you soon! I'm thinking about you. Now get your butt back to the gym. :)

I'm feeling Mental today

Have you ever had one of those days when you just feel totally mental? Well, today is my mental day. There are a number of things I would like to blame for my mental moment. Super Will has suggested several times that I could be mental-pausal? Now wait one cotton-picken minute, I'm way too young to be mental-pausal. Mental yes, pausal noooo. Could have been something I ate? Though I don't think a plain cranberry bagel is going to effect my mood to any extreme. I'm halfway thinking that it could be the rise in the barometric pressure. After all, rain is rare and scarce in Phoenix. But when it does rain, and rain good, we get the old flash flood. Not to be confused with any other type of flash, like a flash of lighting or a hot flash. Along with the flash flood, we have an abundance of motorists that think their Prius is part boat. I realize a Prius is light and fuel efficient, but it isn't made to drive through 4+ feet deep water filled washes. Helloooo, Mr. Green Jeans, you don't own a Toyota Dingy, it's a Prius. Big difference. Sorry about that, didn't mean to get side tracked from the original subject. Ok, so this mental thing was hanging on and on, so I decided to do what every intelligent woman would do when they have mental issues. I ate Chocolate baby! The spring in my step is back. I now have a big chocolate eating grin on my face and I'm actually being pleasant to co-workers. Gone is the grumbling, the stink eye stare downs and the stomping off like a 5 year old kid with their lip out and arms crossed over their chest. Chocolate must be magic. Chocolate must be the food of the Gods. Chocolate soothes the savage beasty mood. So good bye Rambo attack kitty. In the great words of Arnold, "I'll Be Back"

Oh My Gosh!

Sorry readers that I haven't posted since Thursday. I had a crazy busy fun weekend. Friday I left work early to attend the Arizona Cardinal's game vs Green Bay Packers. Nothing like a rowdy football game to get the weekend started. Cards got their little padded butts whooped up on. Yep, the Packers opened up a can of whoop ass. It's only pre-season, so no worries. Saturday we had tickets for the Diamondback's game. Picked up our buds (Dave & Beverly) to hit the 1:00 pm game and come to find out the game time had been switched to 5:00. Well darn, we had some time to kill. Some one came up with the great idea of hitting a local casino. Great idea indeed. Will (hottie man) and I ended up leaving the casino $400 bucks richer from playing blackjack. To top it off, the Diamondbacks won! So my title of official D'Back's schlep rock is no more. Yippe ki ya! Sunday we decided to hit the spinning class at our gym. Little did Will know that I had a secret competition going on with him on how long I could ride standing up on the bike. Well being the smarty pants that he is, he figured it out and the challenge was on! The poor instructor kept saying it was time to cool down but neither of us would give up and sit down. Not until the instructor said it's time to stretch is when we both got off the bike. So game on! Sunday afternoon we hit the golf course. I had fun, but ended up in 14 different sand traps. I'm not kidding! 14 times I was in the beach. Lucky for me I can normally get out of the sand in one try. Call me Sand-wedgie. I think that is a record. Maybe my golf ball had some type of cosmic force that sucked it into the vortex of sand doom? Regardless, we had a great time. Sunday evening we caught a movie. Went to see District 9. All I can say is that I was shaking my head most of the movie. Very strange and very weird. A wee bit too many alien guts. But hey, some people like movies with exploding alien guts? Yesterday, I had a sicky daughter. So I stayed home. Ok, I bess get to work. Wow, it's September 1. Time is fly'n!

Bow Hunting Skills, Numb Chuck Skills

Today I'm thinking about what skills I possess? What thing makes me stand out or do I excel? Ok, let's break this down. I didn't inherit my mom's artsy fartsy skills. That woman can sew, paint, design, cook, decorate, make, grow anything and throw together stuff and make it look good. Takes me back to when I was a youngster and mom decided to throw all her spare time into Macrame. We had macrame hanging plant holders everywhere. You couldn't walk outside on the porch without side-swiping a plant holder. She made a decorative 4-tier hanging shelf system for my bedroom. The macrame shorts and matching vest felt like you were wearing a cheese grater, but they were made out of love. (kidding mommy dearest) (macrame clothes are comparable to wearing a pair of Sears Tough Skin jeans.) The woman has mad skills. Now take my dad, he can build anything! He can fix anything and if he doesn't know how to fix it, he will figure it out. Again, great skills! So what the heck happen to me? I've been banned from every owning a house plant by "Save The Plants from Susan Society." I can barely sew on a button without poking at least 3 fingers in the process. After I'm done, looks like I was attacked by a diabetic glucose meter checker thingy. And my cooking skills? One of my favorite meals is a can of Chef Boyardee spaghetti and crumbled turkey burger (yes fried). My list of skills aren't looking to impressive right now. But.... I've come up with a list of skills that I know will impress. (1) my ability to change the words to popular songs which often drives my daughter crazy. (2) my ability not to drop a cuss word when I get a paper cut. (example: Mother Trucker, Son of A Biscuit Eater) is what I blurted out after being attacked by a business card. (3) my exceptional dance moves. I invented my own dance move, "the spankler" a mix of a spanking motion with a sprinkler (rainbird) motion. and (4) my ability to laugh at myself. I have a great life peoples! Call me Happy Von Schnauzer. It's Friday EVE!

My Lunch with My Gal Pals

For anyone that really really knows me, they know that, me skipping the gym on my lunch hour and going out to lunch is a big deal. I am a faithful lunch-time gym attender. Today, I went to lunch with two of my favorite best-ez. I've learned from my 16 year old daughter, that it's no longer politically correct to call your friends "girlfriends" because that could imply something else? Ooooh ok. Well anyone older then 30 knows that girlfriends mean pals. One of my "friends" came up with the bright idea to take the light-rail tram system down town. Oh wait, that was me. Let's move on, quickly. The light-rail really isn't a bad deal. It has stops every half mile or so and is air conditioned. Only problem is, It's 110 out today! There are no air conditioned platforms while you wait. Arizona is the like a fiery inferno of H.E. double hockey sticks. Being outside for more then a minute is like standing next to the mouth of a volcano! If you stand too long, your shoes will melt to the platform and then you will miss your tram. While we are at it, add a massive amount of car exhaust and a few ripe hobos (I'm showing my age, I know), and you have the make'n of a light-rail par-teeeee! Call me drama queen. The lunch was nice and the conversation even better. I ordered the Jerk Shrimp salad. I think they call it "jerk" because of your reaction after you take a bite and the jerk spice burns your mouth, nostrils, eyes, etc. Did I mention that I ate my entire salad in record time. Shout out to the little restaurant called Bread Fruit. Very yummy. After my (ssshhhh) extended lunch with my buddies, we all made our way back to work. I figured I'd make the ride back to the office more exciting by trying to slip the light rail authority $5 bucks to frisk my "comrade" But they said with the recession, they charge $20. Geez, what is up with that? Can't even get the a state run agency to frisk for $5. I'm Kidding! I really only offered them $2. Happy Wednesday.

Shank-a-potamus

I'm golfing this weekend! Let the golf angels sing and the sun shine down on my peeling Arizona sunburn shoulders! Yes! My addiction will be fed. Let me give you a little background on my infamous golf career. Um, I have no golf career. That's ok, because like the saying goes, a bad day golfing is better then a good day at work. Or a bad day golfing is like work? Anyhoo, I shall be swinging my all time fave club, Lady King Cobra driver. That driver rocks and if I could marry it, I would. Ok, so it's going to be only 107 on Sunday. Which is like a cold front this time of year. Not sure which course I will be hacking my way though, but it can be guaranteed that I will have a smile on my face while I watch my golf ball soar through the air and land in a bush full of Diamondback rattlers. Good thing, my golf buddy hubby is also known as the "golfing bush whacker" He is one of the best ball spotters ever. He can go into a line of bushes and find 15 balls before I find my one. He is definitely going to be on my team when Easter rolls around. Only drawback with bush whacking on AZ golf courses is you come out of the bushes looking like you were attacked by a pack wild cats. Guess you could call that scratch golf. But hey, got some high quality golf balls out of his foraging. :) Part two of my un-golf career will be coming soon to a blog near you. This blog is not yet rated. Have a great Tuesday.

Oooooh, I'm in Trouble!

Well, my sweet and beautiful Mother snitched me out to the Grand Poo-bah of TP collecting. Thanks mom, you are supposed to have my back, not to be confused with backside. She told my squeezably soft dad that I was poking fun at his little TP inventory. I'm officially written out my dad's will that states, his TP stash is going to be divided between my two brothers and I am to get nothing in paper form. No Charmin, No Quilted Northern, no sandpaper consistency cheapy stuff, nothing. Well, fine! I don't need your precious butt-wipe. Gosh, I've never seen someone so sensitive about TP. Ok Maybe this is some type of new addiction? I wonder if there is a support group for people that have a phobia of running out of bathroom necessities? I think my dad might need an intervention. Isn't there a place in California called Malibu Passages or Passing something addiction center? Ok, all fun aside. Thanks dad for being such a good sport and for letting me pick on you in our blog! Don't forget, I am your favorite daughter and your only daughter.

It's Monday Peoples. Need I say more?

Sorry we didn't get a chance to post on Friday, we had to attend a funeral. Here is a shout out to our besty L and her family. Friday night we went over the folk-ez place to have movie and milkshake night. My dad, the grand master TP horder, makes the best milkshakes and malts this side of the Mississippi. Of course there is a wee bit of bias on my part, since he is my TP stashing cool dad. Ok, so you ask, what's up with the TP pet names. Seems my most awesome-est father has read on the Internet that there will be a toilet paper shortage someone time in the future. Sounds like a paper product company conspiracy to me. Yep, the makers of "don't squeeze my two-ply" are working unsuspecting consumers into a TP shortage frenzy. Trust me, if there ended up being a TP shortage, I would find something to use, even if it's a page from my loving man's Golf Digest magazine. Sorry, 18th hole at Augusta picture, butt...... I'm probably going to get my butt kicked for poking fun at my dad, but hey, he's fair game and I've paid my dues! hehe Oh Sunday, we all went to the movies to see Inglorious Bastards. I'm have to give it 2 high fives and one fist bump. Definitely entertaining and bizarre all in the same mix. It's MONDAY! I'm going through golf withdrawal!

Oh How He Warned Me. Auger Part 2

I definitely learned my lesson about feeding stray augers. Will (my sessy man) warned me that if I fed the auger, it would stick around the house. Kind of like that stray cat that you feel sorry for, so you feed it and it never goes way. The cat just sits outside your door at 6:00 am, howling for food. Well, that is exactly what my new pet auger did at 6:00 am this morning. But instead of howling, it made its presence known by belching out black smoke and stomping it's twisted auger foot in demand. I gave my pet auger a new name. I'm going to call it Buttercup. Which brings to mind the songs: Drill me up, Buttercup or I'm Hooked on a Drilling. Both songs are classics in their own right. Then there is the classic MJ remake: Driller or the ever popular Elton John remake: Don't Let the Drill Come Down on Me. I'm getting a wee bit attached to Buttercup. In fact, I had to come to Buttercup's defense, when Will told me that my pet auger swings both ways. What? Ok, don't judge. If Buttercup wants to spread it around, then who am I to step in its way? Big sigh. I know one day, Auger-B-cup is going to grow up and move on. Will I be able to endure the void and the early morning silence? Damn right I'll endure. Well, until Joe construction worker comes along and starts laying pipe in the places where Buttercup used to be. Hmmm, good thing I don't have a gutter mind, cuz this topic could go way south.
Have a great day all!

Blogger About a Freak'n Auger

I'm not normally a violent person, but this morning I wanted to give some construction workers a beat down. I was in la la sleep land when at 6:00 a.m., Joe construction worker decided to plant a construction auger practically in the backyard.

What made it worse is that I could see this gi-normous contraption in my shower window. So I start thinking "great" Phoenix will once again be on national news because a construction auger toppled over on a house, while an unsuspecting woman was taking a shower. There would be pictures of my trapped white backside plastered on the evening news. So I make a crack to my beloved brat (Will), that the paramedics would get an eye-full trying to get me out from under the auger of death. He came back with "I bet the construction workers already got an eye-full." He was not helping here! Do you know how hard it is to shower, with one eye full of shampoo and the other eye (my stink eye) staring down the monster auger? So, if the Auger-thingy-ma-bobber is still out there tomorrow, then I might have to start chucking the contents of my fridge experiments at them. Better yet, I will take Anna out there and she will gladly claw the the vinyl seat to shreds. If all else fails, then I'll poke my head over the fence and turn them to stone, since I tend to look like Medusa in the morning with my crazy snake hair and red glowing eyes. So there!

I am NOT a Schlep Rock.

Over this past weekend, Will (sexy man) and I attended another Diamondback's Game. Seems several of his friends and he have decided that when I attend the games, the DBack's always lose. They have honored me with the title of "Schlep Rock" of the DBack's.

Ok, so the DBack's have only won 1 game in the 8 games that we have attended. There is a glimmer of hope for me yet. Add this to the Schlep-ski debate. While Will and I were enjoying a wee bit of ice cream (low fat yogurt to be exact), a foul ball was heading our way. The dude in front of us and Will went for the ball at the same time. The ball bounced off the dude's hand and then almost rips Will's finger-nail off. At least Will didn't dump the yogurt on head. I'm starting to get a complex here! To top it off, we have yet to be put on the "Kiss Cam." Geez.