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.