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!