Sept 24:this, that and the other

Hola tators! Well, I am happy to report that I am not up to my knees in H2O like some people are here in the ATL. I will have to say when it rains here, people totally freak the f out! Living in O-Town all those years taught me how to cruise in the monsoon with the greatest of ease. I think it should be mandatory that everyone live in Florida for one year so that they can learn how to drive in the rain!!!

So...
About three weeks ago, Carl-E fell in a hole and hurt his foot while running. Instead of going to the dr like his loving and caring wife suggested, he ambled along popping Advil. Well, after 100 billion Advil later, he decided that it was not getting any better and finally took his tush to the dr's. Well, Mr. Gillert broke his foot. Now, he is wearing a soft cast for a month. Men!!!

I...
Just got back from a way too long visit to my home state. Whenever I visit, I learn to appreciate my drama-free home that much more. I love my fam, but they are bat she-ite crazy. If I had a dime for every time someone's voice went into screaming mode, I could walk my butt into LV and purchase any bag that my little heart desired!

Urban word of the day; I bet you know someone who is this, because I know I do!!!

cyberchondriac
Someone who spends their time searching medical websites for diseases they convince themselves they actually have

Similiar to a hyperchondriac

'Then i went on this website and found out that i actually have diabetes AND chronic fatigue!'
'Dude...you're a cyberchondriac'

Sept 3: Oh this and that

What's a happen hot stuffs? Well, let me get you up to date with moi.

- My name is Carrieann and I am an addict. Drug of choice: Diet Moutain Dew but not the regular kind, but the ULTRA VIOLET!!! If you are not willing to become an addict, DO NOT TRY THIS! It is so delish and just rolls around on your tongue with berry goodness. Whoever invented this elixir is a demi-god.

- The mulch is finally all gone. Yipp-f'in-skippy! It winds up that my landscaper took what came out to be over 30 bags of mulch after I was done shoveling it in the unbearable Hot-lanta heat. If I could not find anyone to take the mulch, I would have to take my pretty tush and haul all the bags to the curb for lawn pick-up. So, I was as happy as a piggy in poopy when my landscaper said he would take it. But then I got to thinking...did he over order on purpose so he could get some free mulch? This mystery will never be solved, because I am just to gosh darn tired to pursue it. F-it let him have the mulch.

- Now that school has started, I try to stay off the road during the hours of 7am-5pm; I kid, I kid! But really, I think there is one thing more dangerous than a texting mom, it is a mom trying to get her kids to school just before that first bell ring-a-lings. Yesterday, I was at the light that is clearly marked "No Turn On Red." I was jammin' out to some tunes when the person behind me starts laying on their horn. I looked in my review mirror and there is this lady pointing at the light, which was red, and then pointing to the right. Being a law abiding citizen, and not wanting to go back to court, I ignored her. But, she kept at it; hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooonk, hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooonk. She was getting more animated with her hands the more I blew her off. Finally, the light turned green and I slowly turned right; really slow; super duper slow. She whipped around me and shot me the bird, and it was then I noticed the kids in the back seat; nice role model lady!!!

I gotts to bounce!

Aug 20: Trail Mix

Hola tators! It is a hazy Friday morning here in the ATL. I am sure that many of you that went back to school this week are tres tres excited it is Friday. So, make sure you put your feet up and partake in a few adult beverages, and most of all RELAX!

- Carl-E and I have been working on the backyard for what seems forever and ever. To give the yard the manicured look that Carl-E likes, we had a shite load of mulch delivered. Now, I am talking that this pile took up just short of half the driveway. We had our own private mountain to climb. So we shoveled mulch into the wheelbarrow and dumped, and repeated, and repeated, and repeated until I was dumping mulch in my sleep. Finally last week we finished dumping, but we still had a rather large surplus of mulch. So, yesterday I shoveled mulch into bags until my eyes crossed. Three hours and 25 bags later all the mulch is gone. I can honestly say, "I hate G-D mulch!"

- As many of you know I have a cat army that lives in my backyard. Finally after many tries, I put Moma Cat out of commission. But, before I caught her, she squeezed out one more litter. Now, let me give you some background...all three littlers were born in MY backyard under MY woodpile. So, who should name the kittens. Well duh, ME! Ok lets get back to now, so Carl-E thought it would be cute to name the new three kittens artists' names. SO, two of the kittens are girls but have boy names, oh well!!!
Anywho...
My neighbor who also feed the feral army rang me up to ask me about the mail. In talking she keeps referring to Sam. Now I am thinking who he-zell is Sam? And then she says, "Oh you call him Neptune." And then she is talking about Mary. And I am thinking "Who the fudge is Mary?" And she says, "Oh, you call her Picasso."
Now...
Carl-E and I put a lot of thought into the names, so do not go changing them, especially to lame names, such as Sam. Now, she knows what their names are, so call them by their names!!! Not only are they born on my property, but I am the one who catches their furry tushes and gets them fixed; I retain the right to name them! It just burns my butt!!!

- Carl-E got dirt bikes. At first he was going to get a BMW motorcycle, and then it was a duel sport, and then it was a dirt bike, and then it was two dirt bikes. And the second one is not for moi, but for a companion of the male persuasion to accompany him on his rides. Even if I wanted to ride the bike it is way too tall for me; I would need a kiddie bike or something. He is yet to take these bikes out, but he is a itching. Thank goodness I have a rather large policy on his butt. I kid, I kid!!!

And I am out!!!

August 5: What An F*in Week!

Well, tators it has been a week, and we are only half way through it. It started out wonderful...
My big sister was here for a visit and we were havin fun doin stuff around Hot-Lanta; the High Museum and the Aquarium.

Monday I try to get on the computer and nothin. My router is shot to h-e-double hockey sticks. This is the second router that I have blown with my computer; maybe it is time for a new computer; my birthday is coming up...I wounder if LV makes laptops?

Ok, so I move on...
We get in to my car and Sophie notices that all the junky-junk for my glove compartment is all over the floor. You know the stuf; napkins from Starbucks, receipts for the food store, pens that do not work, and stale gum.

Guess what?
Someone totally broke in to my car and violated it! And guess what they took? Two cases of glasses; not two cases with sunglasses, but two cases of stemware glasses. What the f*&% does someone need with two cases of stemware glasses??? Are they havin a large garden party and need some extra glasses, so they decided to check every car until they hit the jack pot?

Well...
I wake up Tuesday morning to the downstairs A/C not working. Another "What the F*$%!!!" But, your girl has an idea...check the battery on the controller, because the display is not working. So, I go to Publix to buy a new battery, and then I turn the key on my car, and NOTHING!!!

Well, I dial...
Carl-E up and begin to convey my tale of woe. Like a knight in a black BMW he swoops in and give me a jump. We get my car home and have lunch in a what feels like a hundred degree house.

So, where am...
I at now???
I am waiting for the A/C guy to come and fix my A/C. Carl-E brought a battery charger so I can charge my car battery. And I am on the hunt for AARF stemware that may pop up at a thrift store or local pawn shop.

And I am out...

July 15: So Close and Yet So Far

Howdy, tators! Well, it is another hot and humid day here in the ATL. Because I might melt if I step outside (NOTE: I am made of sugar, ya know!), I decided to write you guys a little note.

So...
Last week Carl-E and I embarked on another mountain adventure. Our target; Mt. Shasta in Cali. We have been planning this trip for a while. Carl-E got the topo map, the GPS, and various articles about various routes to the top. He made sure that we were prepared because this was our first climb without a guide.

On the flight...
we had the "silver and not so sexy" flight crew. Their attitude matched their look; pinched and sour. Once we left the "oldies and not so goodies" it was a three hour drive to the mountain.

As she...
came into view, Carl-E and I got really excited; we almost jumped and squealed like teenage girls at a Jonas Brothers concert. The true summit was hidden by clouds, but the weather forecast called for clear and sunny skies for the next two days.

The next day...
we packed our packs, and off we went. Four and half hours later, with 40 lbs packs, we made it to Lake Helen. Why they call it Lake Helen I do not know because there is no lake there; only snow. We met two guys that got altitude sickness and could not make the summit. In my mind I was like, "HA! I am going to make it and I am a girl!"


After chatting with the losers...
we set up camp. While setting up our tent, another couple of guys were setting up theirs. Well they did not anchor it correctly and "POOF" over the edge it went like a giant kite. They had to climb back down a VERY steep incline to get it and back up; dumb asses!!! After a dinner of re-hydrated mac and cheese, it was off to bed.

At 3am...
the alarm went off. As I tried to get myself out of my twisted sleeping bag, Carl-E announced he had altitude sickness. This was not good. I asked him on a percentage scale how he felt, and he was only a 75%. I told him to go back to bed, and he did.

So...
the summit was out of our reach for this trip, but we will get it next year.

June 23: Label Whore!

I am a label whore. I love anything that screams “THIS IS A LOUIS VUITTON HANDBAG” or “YES, THESE ARE GUCCI SNEAKERS!” About a year ago, I read an article in one of those glossy mags that are chock full of advertisements for items that are stamped with every logo imaginable. The author of the article shook the preverbal “no-no” finger at wearing or carrying any item that displayed the companies name or logo. Basically, he/she stated that only rap stars wear anything that turns them into a walking build board for a brand, and that he/she thought was tres tacky.

After reading the article I began to reflect when my label obsession began. It started way back in the day, when I was nine and in the forth grade. Jordash jeans were the “it” jean and I wanted a pair more than I wanted a Barbie dream house. But there was one obstacle, my weight. See I was not the slimmest child, but I was not fat either. I was, well normal. However, my mother saw different.

The first time I could remember my weight became an issue I was in the third grade. I began to mature faster than the other girls. My white, starch-stiff, button down peter-pan, button down shirt pulled creating the dreaded “gapoisis.” My burgundy, navy, and gold plaid jumper was snug across my once non-existence hips. My gym shorts became daisy dukes with a permanent wedgie that put a damper on doing my jumping jacks.

When I came home with a note from the Sister Superior about my inappropriate fitting uniform, my mother hit the roof. She narrowed her eyes and glared at me. “Put your arms up,” she growled while grabbing my arms and jutting then in the air for me. She slowly circled me while mumbling to herself. Final she stopped in front of me, folder her arms and announced, “You are going on a diet!” “Ok,” I sheepishly replied while praying that I could put my arms down soon, because they were staring to cramp. “I know just the one!” my mother announced while opening the fridge door and pulling out a carton of eggs “You my daughter are going on the egg diet!”

Now this did not sound too bad; I liked eggs especially with Velveeta. But, I did not know that for the next 14 days that is all I would eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I ate them prepared every way; soft boiled, hard boiled, poached, fried (NOTE: In Pam of coarse), and scrambled. By day two, I was miserable, especially during lunch time. “Ill! That smells” the other girls would say when I took the lid off my reused margarine tub. “Why are you eating that?” one girl asked “Are you poor or something?” another said. I would only reply, “Eggs are good for you!”

By the end of the 14 days, I lost 8 lbs. My mother was thrilled, as she beamed at the scale with pure joy. However, as the weeks went on and I resumed my normal eating habits of an eight year old all the weight came back on and then some. And once again, I came home with a note stating the obvious; my uniform did not fit. But being a woman that sticks to her convictions, my mother flat out refused to buy me a new uniform. So everyday for the last three weeks of school I would place the pink colored paper that announced my inappropriance on the counter and she would crumble it up and toss it in the trash.

That summer we moved. While my mother was moving, I was sent off to summer camp for a month. The last thing my mother said to me was, “Do not eat too much!” A month later I was an inch taller and 12lbs lighter. Because we moved, I wasn’t attending private school. My mom was elated to buy me new school clothes for public school. She kept handing me heaps of clothes to try on and said things like, “Look how thin you look in that dress,” and “You look so tiny in that pant suit!”

I was very excited for my first day. I put on my new teal polyester dress with a pleated skirt and a white polk-a-dotted vest. As I smoothed the skirt over my legs I noticed that the pleats stuck out just a tiny bit. It did not bother me, but I knew that my mother would hit the roof. So, when she called me to leave for school, I cleverly covered the front of my dress with my new Charlie Angles lunch box.

After the first three months of school, my waist line began to expand. All my new clothes barely fit. I concealed this by wearing long sweaters to hide the fact that I could not button my pants anymore. By mid-November, I was wearing the same outfit over and over again; midnight blue velvet sweatpants, an oversized, cream fisherman’s sweater, and my lavender legwarmers with the silver threads running through them. The other kids began to call me “Crusty Carrie” because of my outfit. But, what they did not know is that I braved the creepy basement to wash my clothes everyday.

Now, you are probably wondering where my mother was during all this. Well, she was in love with a new boyfriend. She barely noticed my clothing and I was so grateful. In addition, I would leave the house as early as possible, so she would not see my outfit. When she questioned why I was leaving so early, I told her I was helping out with the classroom animals. However, I would sit on the frozen plastic seat of the swing set on the playground until the doors of school opened.

On Christmas morning, I awoke as the sun rose. I raced to the tree and spied all my gifts. I was so excited because I had a gut feeling that one of my present was a pair of Jordash jeans, because that is all I asked for. When my mother finally rolled out of bed around 10am I thought I was going to pop. After she got her coffee, I was allowed to finally tare into my gifts. I got a Rick Springfield record, a Strawberry Shortcake doll, new robe, and a new pair of dark blue Jordash jeans with the bright white stitching. I was so excited, that I ran to my room to put them on. I put both feet in and pulled up, but they stopped at my hips. I tried to wiggle them on by holding on to the belt loops and swinging my hips from left to right while jumping up and down. I lay on my bed and tugged, but they would not budge.

“Let me see how they look,” my mother yelled from the living room. I took them off, tears streaming down my face, and I slowly made my way to the living room. “What’s wrong, I though you wanted them!” my mother said through gritted teeth when she saw my face. “I love them, but they do not fit” I replied while hugging them close to my cheek. “What do you mean they do not fit; give them to me!” she said with her hand opening and closing like a claw. I placed my beloved jeans in her hand and she began to examine the tag. “They are a size 8, you wear an 8. Did you gain weight again?!” I just stood there with my head hung low and mumbled, “I do not think so,” knowing that I had. “Well let’s see,” she said while making her way down the hallway to the bathroom to get the scale.

She placed the scale at my feet and, pointed to it, and ordered me to get on it. My whimpers turned into full blown sobs, but she persisted. Slowly I placed my feet on the scale. “Oh my God!” she yelled “How the hell did you gain this much weight?” Now I was in full on hysteria mode; shoulders moving up and down and nothing but little whimpers coming out of my mouth flowed by sucking in air. “Well, those will have to go back and you will not get another pair until you drop some pounds!” she said in between sips of her coffee.

For the rest of the day I watched everyone enjoying the multi-course feast that my Aunt prepared, while I nibbled on lettuce, turkey (NOTE: White meat only; no gravy), and carrots. The rest of vacation I tried to drop my weight by walking around the block 10 times everyday, and by the end of the break I lost 3 pounds.

The Saturday before returning to school, my mother took me to return my jeans. As we walked through the mall I held the bag containing my jeans tight to me, ad wished I was thin enough to fit into my jeans. As we entered the kids section, I spied the Jordash section. I slowly walked over and ran my hand over their soft cloth. I began to flip through them and noticed that they made bigger sizes. I quickly grabbed a 10 and ran to my mother, “Look they make a 10, can I try it on?” “Oh no, you will not get them until you lose weight!” was her reply.

I was crushed. I wanted those Jordash jeans more than anything in my whole 9 years. I began to make my way back to the rack, when I heard my mother calling me. I thought she had had a change of heart. A smile spread across my face, and I ran to her with the jeans in my hands. “Look you need new jeans for school…” I could not believe my ears she was going to let me get them. “So, I want you to try on these!” and with that she handed me a pair of Cloud jeans. Who ever heard of Cloud jeans!

I took them and sulked my way to the fitting room. I was praying that they would not fit, but they did. On the way home I just stared out the car window thinking, how in the world did I wind up with Cloud jeans that fit and not Jordash jeans.

I dreaded going back to school because I would not have a cool pair of Jordash jeans but lame Cloud jeans. While walking to school, I made a promise to myself that when I had the money, I would buy anything with a label despite my size that I wanted. Almost 30 years later I have kept that promise, and that is why I am a label whore!

June 15: The Gray State

Happy "Smile Power Day!" Now I am not too sure what smile power is, but maybe if you smile all day you get rewarded with like a bizillion green backs or it rains Louis Vuittons. So, I will be flashing my pearly whites all day long. What is the worse that can happy, my face freezes in a permanent smile like the Joker.

Anywho...
Carl-E and I went to my homeland for my cousin's wedding. And not to disappoint, it was gray, gray, gray. Whenever Carl-E visits the Garden State it is never sunny; NEVER! He calls it the "Gray State!"

Well...
The wedding was wonderful, no drama; except...this little ditty!

Ok, here we go...
There were five grooms men; I believe three were cousin's of the groom. Well, one of the cousins is engaged. But, his fiance's sister was getting the same weekend that my cousin was getting married. Are you confused, yet???

Because...
the weddings were taking place in different states, they decided that each one should attend each wedding; so she goes to Texas and he stays in New Jersey. Well, because he is that tasty of a man (NOT!) he had to bring a date to the wedding.

Now...
we are not talking about a "friend" date, were talking a "booty call" date. But, it gets better. He insisted that NO, absolutely No photos be taken of him and this girl together, because guess what? He does not what to be caught!

So...
at the reception there is only one girl walking around as if she just stepped out of a strip club (NOTE: Not the high end ones, like in Vegas but those rat traps that are out by the airport; icky!).

Let's analyze her outfit..,
dress two sizes way too small, so to accentutate her paunch. Black satin skirt hiked up to mid thigh. Flesh colored bustier top that had her lady lumps spillith out all over the place. Those puppys could not be contained! And the icing on the outfit; strappy black platform glossy stripper heals (NOTE: At least she left the clear ones at home).

Now...
This chick is supposed to be a big secret, but the two could not contain their love or better yet lust for each other because they were walking around holding hands and smoochy-smoochy! I tried to snap a photo, but it did not come out. How 007 of me is I totally caugth their tryst on film!

I should of been a spy!

Later tators!

June 5: trail mix

Howdy tators! I hope everyone is enjoying this glorious Friday! It started out gloomy, but around noon it cleared up. So, I decided to ambush the weed brigade that declared war in my beds. Armed with an industrial size bottle of Round Up I kicked weed ass and took names! You would of been proud of your girl! Those little green meanies never knew what hit them, cause I am stealth like a jungle cat!

Speaking of cats...
I have three new kittens. Moma Cat and the Skillet Head have been very busy! But because Moma moved the new litter into my backyard I no longer see my Neptune (NOTE: Neptune is from the second litter). He now lives next door with his brother and sister. Yesterday, I tried to catch Moma but she totally walked around the trap, and then sat her fat ass down while the little gray kitten walked inside, and then "SLAM!" So, I caught the kitten and not Moma, she is too smart!

Speaking of smart...
A not so smart bug flew straight into my eye while I was running. OMG! I have never felt such pain in my life. That bug must of been going about 10000 mph and I know I was breaking the sound barrier, so when we collided it felt as if my eyeball flew into the back of head, and then bounced back. My eye is a bit swollen, but I will live.

Speaking of living...
I could never live in the Amway Arena; not enough elbow room. Carl-E and I got to go to one of the Eastern Conference Final games. To start, the seats are tiny, but when you have a man that needs his seat and YOUR seat in order to sit, it makes watching the game a tad bit difficult. But, I enjoyed the game despite the fact that I sat on a strange man's lap all night. (NOTE: Carl-E is going to game 4, luck ducky!)

Well tators, enjoy your weekend and I promise a story is on its way!

And I am out!

May 13: And the story continues...

Happy "National Leprechaun Day!" So Tators, locate your wee little friend, follow his rainbow to his pot of gold, and then knock his tiny tush out, steal the gold, and haul mad ass! Hey, there is a budget deficit out there, ya know?! And, gold is probably the only thing that is retaining its value, and what does a short man in a funny suit need a pot of gold for? Nada!

So, let embark on the rest of my Roma adventure...
Oh, one thing I forgot to tell you that Romans love are hot dog dogs. And, there hot dog dogs are not the teeny ones, they are super sized! I think the hot dog dog is the offical dog of Roma; I think.

Ok...
So, on day two, Carl-E and I are off to the Sistine (NOTE: Not the Sixteen Chapel) and Vatican Museum (NOTE: I cannot tell you how many ignorant English speaking people call the Sistine Chapel the Sixteen Chapel; it made me cringe each time). Well, the line was about 2 and 1/2 hours deep. Carl-E instantly said, "No Way!" which triggered my boo-hoo face (NOTE: Ya know the face; pouty bottom lip and weepy, pleading eyes).

And then...
before I turned on the water works to get my way, we were approached by a young lady that asked us if we wanted to take an English speaking tour for 50 Euros each, and with the tour you get to jump the insane line. Before Carl-E could utter a word, I said, "YES!" So, off we were with 18 other English speaking people and our guide. I had to chuckle when we cut everyone in line, because they had to wait, SUCKAS!

When...
We were inside a couple of guys started to give our a-bit-to-long-winded-but-nice-enough guide a hard time and point-blank told him to "To Stop Talking and Get On With The Tour!" Now, we all had head phones that linked to our guide, so everyone heard the guys comments; can you say uncomfortable silence?! Our guide did not miss a beat and basically told them to shut it in a high brow way.

As we...
Are walking though the galleries getting tidbits about this painting and that tapestry the same guys decide to start giving our guide a rash once again. After another exchange of words the guys decided to leave the tour. As they walked off I gave a the silent cheer (NOTE: Carl-E thought I was swatting flies).

After...
2 and half hours of tour, we were finally released back into the city. Now, it was time for SHOPPIN! I could not wait to get me some new shoes. I was so excited to find the Pucci boutique, I was giddy. But to go shoppin, you have to go to the Spanish Steps.

OMG...
I thought Carl-E was going to explode with all the people. It was so crowed that I could of wedged myself between two people, had my feet lifted off the ground, and carried around. I knew my time was limited, so I grabbed Carl-E by the hand and headed to the "side streets" were the high end stores are. Well, after no luck locating a Pucci store, I headed to Chanel. Well, there was a line that stretched way down the block. I have never had to wait in a line to enter the Chanel store in Orlando. So, I jigged left and then right avoiding the crowds to the Louis Vuitton store. Well, there was a line there too! I never had to wait in line in Hot-Lanta. So, I said forget this (NOTE: While wearing the pouty face once again!)

Sad...
that I got no new shoes, I decided to drown my sorrows in gelato. Oh, it was so yummy, I almost forgot about those fierce Pucci sling backs that I had been dreaming about since we landed in Roma; almost!

Time to hit the gym!
I am out!

May 8: Second Post of the Trip

Hola, tators! Well, I am sitting in my inferno of a house while my A/C is being fixed. Although there is no sun (NOTE: I think it is in New Jersey for some bizzar reason)it is hot as Hades. I am waiting for the devil himself to sit next to me on the couch and watch the season finally of "Tough Love." (NOTE: I think he would totally approve of the show because of all the naughty-naughty behavior!)

Anywho...
So, Carl-E arrive in Roma after a 8 hour flight, get to our hotel, and crash for a couple hours. After a refreshing nappy-nap (NOTE: Yes, I finally was able to nap, but it took staying up all night and three glasses of wine!), we headed out to the Vatican. Now, according to the hotel's website we were only a hop-skip-and-a-jump away.

Well...
We got so lost; we jigged when we should of jagged (NOTE: This will not be the only time we got lost; thank goodness I had good walking shoes). What should of taken a twenty minutes max took over an hour. After consulting three different maps, the position of the sun, and the way the wind was blowing, we finally figured out the right direction.

When...
we got to St Peters, we toured the church, and then headed to the museum. Well, when we finally go there it was closed! May 1 is Italy's Labor Day. I was so bummed; but have no fear I had a back up plan: visit the castle.

I will tell...
you that personal space does not exists. While in line I think I has relations with 5 people. Everyone was sooooooooooooo close; way too close. And in line for the castle is where I spotted it! The first scrunchie! It was practically touching my nose, and to add insult to injury, it was florescent pink! And then I looked down and saw a pair of red Crocs too; UGGGGG! It took a full 15 minutes for me to get over the shock of this horrific sight.

After...
the castle it was off to have dinner at a restaurant recommend by a friend. Well, guess what?! It was closed. So, we headed to another one. Sitting next to us, was the most sappy of sappy couples; except it was so one-sided. She called him "honey" and "cupcake" and "bunny" and all sorts of names that made me want to up chuck my pizza all over the table. I thought they might of been on their honeymoon because of all the cooing, but she was not sporting any rock of any size. If they are just dating, he needs to run quick and far, far away. If I had to deal with all that sugary-speak I could not be responsible for my actions. Icky!

Well, I am off to stick my head in the freezer before I melt into a puddle.

And I'm out!

May 7: I'm Back

Hey tators!
I am back from my Roma vaycay. Carl-E and I had a wonderful time hangin with the Romans. But, before I embark on our trip, I need to tell you what the Romans L-O-V-E

1. The Puff Vest - Most days hovered around 80 degrees; pretty darn warm I'd say. But, despite the centigrade, the Romans wore puff vests. They came in all sorts of colors, but the neutral khaki seemed to be the favorite. Just looking at them made me so hot! By day three, I wanted to rip off their vests and toss it into the Tiber River.

2. Boots - Does not matter the style: tall, slouchy, ankle, over the knee, heels, wedges, flats; they loves them some boots! The cowboy boot was the hands down favorite. I kept wondering how bad their feet must hurt from walking on cobble stones all day. They must spend beau coup dollas on pedis to help treat those sore tooties.

3. Scrunchies - WHY?! WHY?! WHY?! All of the scrunchies in the world should be burned! The joules they produced would end our energy crisis. They are an abomination to the classic hair style; the pony tail!

4. Scarves - Like the puffy vest, no matter how hot it got, they had a scarf tightly wound around their necks so the ends could not freely flap in the breeze. This I did not mind because scarves are very in vogue right now.

5. Crocs - Yes, tators, your eyes are not playing tricks on you, I wrote CROCS! As the scrunchie is an abomination to the pony tail, crocs are to the fashion foot wear world. When not wearing boots, they are sporting crocs in all colors; pink, green, blue, and red. And they stick those thingys in them, too! With the scrunchies; Crocs should have a funeral pyre.

Stay tuned; more to come!

april 30: and we're off

Ciao tators! Carl-E and I are off to Roma. Right now we are waiting for our flight to Newark. I am enjoying a nice ice coffee while Carl-E is reading a book about frozen dead people on a moutain.

So...
While in the wayyyyy toooooo looooong security line I encountered Mrs TB (note: TB stands for her tory burch flip flops; which I have two pair but mine are last summer; boo-hoo)

Anywho...
I do not think Ms TB travels much because she was takin foreva to decide what to put in her zip lock baggy; in went the lipstick, out came the hairspray (note: not regulation size) back in went the face cream. By the time she decided to put the hairspray in the bag I had stripped off my new puma flats (note: did you expect not to travel in style), my CandC jacket and placed my fun and fashionable LeSportsac backpack in my bin.
Ms TB still was not makin any progress nor any friends and the line was gettin really behind me; I could hear the huffin and puffin from the people behind me, so I deceided to go around her.

She did not like this because as I did she whispered to her plaid clad, pop collar polo wearing boy toy "no patients" Just before I said "who the f' do you think you are" the security lady yells to me "you go girl; you go!"

I turned to Ms TB with a big smile and said "See! I was not the only one who thought you were slow!" Hee Hee!

I saw only one face maskin wearing fool so far and a prisoner; never saw one in the airport before; cuffs but no bright orange jumper!

Ciao!

April 16: Do Not Tread On Moi!

"Happy National Stress Awareness Day and National Eggs Benedict Day!" Ok, I do not need a national day that focuses on stress, do you tators?! I think the constant grinding of my teeth while I slumber is a pretty good awareness-meter of my stress. In addition, the meds rainbow that adorns my bathroom cabinet from my supplier, oh I mean MD is just a teeny-weeny indicator of how stress is a major playa in my existence. As far as eggs Benedict; yucky-yucky-yuck! I tried them once and I thought it was the grosses thing I have ever consumed (NOTE: Being hung over from a beer blurred evening probably did not help)! National-Bank-of-Ed was a big fan of the sliminess that is Benedict, but the Benedict gene was not passed on to moi.

So...
Your girl braved the crowds and attended the Tea Party. I have to admit, that I was very leary at first because I do not do the whole crowd thing very well.

Let's jump in the time machine...
while at the 3rd Lalapolza I was trying to get near the stage to see God-knows-Who. It was August in Orlando, so it was ballz hot, like a 100000 degrees. When the band came on stage, everyone surge forward; I actually found myself with my feets off the ground. When the pushing stopped, I'z did not feel too fabu. I told my friends that I thought I was going to pass out and with that said I did. I woke up laying half on a piece of cardboard next to a mud infested mosh pit, I was quickly receiving a mud facial from all the mud being splashed on me.

Well...
when Carl-E said he wanted to check out the Tea Party, I had flash backs to the mud pit and when I saw that they estimated between 5000-10000 bodies in attendance, I was like "Oh, hellz no!"

But...
after some coaxing, I caved in like a crevasse. We were going to take Marta, instead of driving. And Marta stops running at 9pm, so I knew we could not stay that long.

I pick out...
my outfit and was ready to go at 7pm. Carl-E , his friend, and moi get on Marta to head to the State capital building. As we were walking, I realized I had made a huge fashion faux pas; I did not wear red! Red was the color-scheme of choice for this soiree. But, no fear, I was prepared because I had my red lipstick compact and blackcherry in my LV travel bag (NOTE: Yes, I have a special LV that I use on trips; it crosses over the body and has the cutest flap closure.). As we approach the capital from over four blocks away we spied the crowd. I begin to quake in my puma flats (NOTE: I am breaking them in for my trip to Rome, because I cannot wear kicks to Bennie's casa).

I...
ask Carl-E if we can hang towards the back. I took out my blackcherry and begin snapping photos of all the signs. Some where really funny, such as "Both Parties Suck" and "Coffee is Better than TEA!" Only one true Southern boy broke out the "Stars and Bars" (NOTE: I all I could think of is this is the photo that will appear on every major newspaper across the country! With the caption "If Taxes keep rising will the South rise again?!").

As the...
crowd began to grow, I started to get that queezy feeling. So, I switch my focus to people watching. There were lots of ladies sporting tea bag earrings and paper tea cup hats jauntily placed on their heads (NOTE: I hope this trend NEVA catches on). Men with funny star sunglasses (NOTE: Only Bootsy Collins can carry that off). As the crowd got tighter and tighter, I could no longer even see up, but then I spotted HIM!

It was...
the most magnification comb-over I have ever witnessed. Trump has nothing on this guy's coiffure. The comb over started just above his left ear and reached clear across his chrome dome. But right above his left ear he had about an inch of closely clipped hair to give the illusion that he had a buzz cut. It was genius! (NOTE: To see photos; visit my FB page!). After I marvfeled at his merical of styling, I knew I had seen it all and it was time to jet.


Gotts to bounce!

April 9: Pollen, pollen everywhere...

Hello there, tators and "Happy Winston Churchill Day and Name Yourself Day." So if you are feeling like you want to be a leader of some country that is in the middle of some war today is your day to implement a coup and/or if you feel that "Sally" no longer fits your edgy persona; change it to Apple, Orange, Pear, or Banana.

Well...
I have been fightin the endless war with pollen. I am sad to report that I am losing terribly. See, here in Hot-Lanta when the slightest sign of Spring appears, everything with a cell wall and chloroplasts goes nuts! Pollen thickly covers everything more than the powder on Queen Elizabeth's born-again-virgin face! At one time I did have a matallic black car, now it is mustard yellow; yucky yucky poo! And it makes no sense to take it down to Avril's to have it rinsed, washed, buffed, and waxed because by 2pm, it will be yellow again. I much rather spend that money on a new lipstick!

When...
I lived in F-L-A, I had a little itchy eye here; a little runny nose there; ya know nothing a Clariton could not clear up in a jiffy! But here in the A-T-L, pollen laughs in the face of Clariton; Ha! Ha! Nothing I ingest or snort will take away all my symptoms, but tators, your girl never gives up the good fight. I continue my pavement pounding despite after 4 miles I look like I have jaundices, because I am covered in a fine mist of you-know-what!

So...
Saturday Carl-E and I embark on our usual routine; running at the park and then breakfast at Einstein's. So, about 1/4 way into my run I begin to wheeze. No biggy; I spit out my delish fruit-flavored gum that I always chew while I run, so I do not get dry mouth because unlike normal people, I cannot run and breath out my nose, I have to breath out of my mouth. But, that does not stop the wheezing.

Next...
I start to get a tigh feeling in my chest. "OMG! I am having a coronary!" was my first thought. Want to know my second thought??? "I cannot die I am going shoe shoppin for my new Christian Louboutins this afternoon; I have waiting all year for them!" So, I stop running start pacing back in forth while murmuring to myself like a crazy (NOTE: Sandrine that one was for you!) while trying to control my anxiety. And with no Xanx, that is pretty difficult my tators.

Then I see...
Carl-E heading down the path. He stops when he sees me and asks me what's wrong. In between wheezes, I tell him the 411. He tells me to walk the rest of the way and leaves me in his dust (NOTE: That was more than likely 99.9% pollen). I think he thinks I am heartier than I really am, but then I have climbed numerious moutains in sub-zero weather.

I start...
to inform myself; allowd; to I am not a whimpy-whimp, suck it up, and not to let itty-bitty pollen put a damper on my day. So, I slowly start back up; wheezed my way through the rest of the run (NOTE: Go me! Go me! Go me!) and later on that day brought my shoes!

And...
yes they are tres fabu!

Here is a funny urban word of the day for those of you that work in offices:

notice me e-mail

In the age of telecommuting, an e-mail message sent either early in the morning, or late at night, with the subtle intent of revealing the fact that the sender was logged on and working at the time the message was sent, hidden within the context of a more "official" looking message.

(an example "notice me e-mail")

From: Molly Worker
To: dev_group@mycompany.org
Date: 03/27/05 23:17:04 EST
Subject: Deliverable deadline

Hi all... I just wanted to let you all know that I have received most of your status reports, but that the deliverable deadline is fixed. Therefore, if you will not be able to make the deadline, please adjust your status report schedule to fit the deadline.

Thanks!

--
Molly Worker

March 31: April Fools, Ya'll

Howdy, tators! It is "Happy Bunsen Burner Day and National Clams On The Half Shell Day!" For all you die-hard Catholics, this day fits right in with the whole-Lent theme (NOTE: IF you do not know what I am talking about, then yous not in the club homes!) If you are a science geek, like moi, then today is the day to break out your beakers and boil up some concoction, such as love potion for you single ladies (put your hands up!) or a potion to knock-that-nasty-beeotch's-ass-out that racks your last never every day at work. Go ahead, ya know you wantta!

So...
Tomorrow is April Fool's Day. Do you partake in this festival of tom-foolery? Me, I usually stay about, oh 1000 feet away from all the ha-ha'ing! But, today my new router decided to play an early trick on me.

Well...
we have a wireless router for my PC and Carl-E's laptop. This router is a royalest piece of crap in the world. It drops out more than a hooker drop's her nylon-panties for a ten spot. So, after the internet dropped out for the 5th time while I was composing an email, I had had it! I jumped in my ride and headed to the electronic store that did not go out of business, so you know not Circuit City, the other one, with the blue and yellow colors, ya know the one where all the employees wear blue shirts.

I enter...
and I received the mandatory "Hello, how are you?" (NOTE: You know very well the employee that said this could really give a rat's ass how I feel and I can say the feeling was mutual!). So, I stream line towards the computer section on a mission; one new router and one new wireless thingy. I found the aisle and become totally enamored.

There were...
15 billizon different types of routers; N routers, duel band routers, D routers, and XY and Z routers. Now, I am looking for someone to help me, but there is no one around. Maybe the mandatory 11:18 coffee break was in full swing. Then I spy HIM!

I walk...
towards HIM and say, "Can you help me?!" I am asuming the frazzled look plastered across my sans-make-up face gave away that I had no clue of what I am looking at and that I have HUGE circles under my baby blues from no sleep for two days. HIM said, "Sure, what do you need?" So, I went on to explain what I needed and what I currently have. HIM starts into his speel about this router and that router and the other router. Ok, by this point my head hurts from all the techno-mumble-jumble.

So, I ...
stop him by putting up my hand (NOTE: Does this remind you of anyone????) and polietly say, "Please just give me the router and wireless that is one level above basic." With that, he grabbed this and that box and said, "Here you go!". Now how simple was that; oh very!

Next...
I check out with a gleeful smile and sing a little tune all the way home. I get out the disk; insert it into the drive; follow all the directions; and NOTHING! Ok, I de-install the just installed software and repeat, and then repeat again, and again! After 5 times I was about to take the router and disembowel it with one of my new and rarely used serrated edge knifes. So, what does one do when they cannot figure it out; call customer no-service.

I dial...
the number and get Justin. He is a very nice boy (NOTE: He sounded like he was all of 12). However, after 30 minutes of following Justin's advice, I was really starting to loath him, and after 60 minutes, I hated his guts! After clicking this, typing that, disconnecting the blue cord, re-plugging in the gray cord, tapping the box three times while hopping on one foot and humming "Mary Had a Little Lanmb" nothing worked. Almost on the brink of tears, Justin's informs me that it is my internet provider, not the router.

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I knew it was not becauise I got my PC up and running with the new wireless and the old router. Before I could another word out, he politley says, "Good Bye Carrieann" and hangs up, leaving me broken hearted (NOTE: Like so many men before!).

Well...
now the new router is boxed up and ready to go back. I hooked back up my old router and dealing with the dropping out. But here is the kicker, Carl-E's laptop cannot connect to the internet at all. Whatever Justin had me do with all the secret codes put the whammy on the laptop. Oh well, at least I have internet!

And I am late for a very important date...



with my kitties!

Loves ya!

March 23: Daddy-Oh-No-No!

It is a two-fer day, tators! It is "National Organize Your Home Office Day and National Chip and Dip Day." So, break out the chips and salsa verde or if you prefer ruffled potato chips and French onion dip and hit your office. You know it is messy; everyone's is, well except mine (NOTE: I am totally a clean freak when it comes to my space). So, get rid of those old Chick-Fil-A, and gas receips. Chuck those old water and phone bills. Toss out that little cocktail nap with the scribbling from some guy you met two weeks ago at the new hot club (NOTE: You'll never call because 1) you cannot read the number and it starts with; you think 866 B) you cannot remember what he looks like!). Trash those flyers you have been saving with the 10% off any purchse over $20 from any craft store. And if you have not see it in 10 years because it has been buried under a pile of old tax returns; hurl it out!

Ok here we go...
So, Carl-E and I have a routine; every Saturday we go for a 5K run, and then to Einstein's for breakfast. I have a large java and the yogurt parfat with a banana and Carl-E has some nasty egg sandwhich.

Well...
During one of our Saturday morning outtings, I noticed the Daddy-Oh-No-No! He is your typical older frat-looking guy; tall, blond, slight beer belly, and wears athletic pants with his college sweatshirt, but probably has not worked out since his senior year. With him are his two kids; Braty-brat and Not-So-Incocnet. Braty-Brat is about 7 and is a VERY obnoxious little boy that is dying for any attention (NOTE: You know the type; loud, way TOO LOUD). Not-So-Inoccent is the younger sister who loves to hook-line-and-sinker her brother to getting into trouble and then give the innocent eyes to Daddy-Oh-No-No to avoid his wrath.

So...
Ever Saturday it is bascilly the same routine; Daddy-Oh-No-No come into Eisntien's in a whirl-wind of furry with a kid in each hand. He tosses each into a chair, gives them the stern Daddy-Oh-No-No eye and whispers through clinched teeth, "You stay put!" Now, niether one listens because Not-So-Innocent is up with in 2 nano-seconds, stands next to her chair and begins to quiver her lower lips and whimpers, "Daddy, Daddy!" Without missing a beat, Daddy-Oh-No-No calls to her, "Come here baby." Off she runs, he scoops her up, and then turns to Braty-Brat with mean dad face and syas, "You stay put!"

Next...
They eat; well try to eat. Braty-Brat and his sister always get the chocolate chip bagel with butter. Now, Braty-Brat always counts his chocolate chips and announces that he has the most, which entices his sister to turn on the waterworks full blast. Daddy-Oh-No-No then takes away Braty-Brat's begal and gives it to Not-So-Innocent and gives her's to Braty-Brat (NOTE: As if this would put an end to this sistuation). Now Not-So-Innocent has a big smile on her face, and Braty-Brat announces he still has the most chocolate chips (NOTE: This kid sees the positive in everything!). To this Daddy-Oh-No-No takes half of Braty-Brat's bagel and switches it with half of Not-So-Innocent's, and then announces that they both have the same amount of chocolate chips (NOTE: Now we really know that they do not!)

But..
This is where the story can differ depending on Daddy-Oh-No-No's attitude. Once he took the bagel out of Braty-brat's mouth, snatched right out, and took a bit, and then announced that he no longer had the most chocolate chips. Another time, he took a itty-bitty piece of Braty-Brat's bagel and gave it to his sister and announced that she now had the most chocolate chips.

Let's keep a movin...
Now this Saturday, was different. Daddy-Oh-No-No was in rare form. He came in with the same fever as a whirling dervish, but with the fire of Godzilla. He tossed both children in their chairs, and stomped to the line. I instantly knew that this was going to be a real show. Daddy-Oh-No-No dropped the two baskets with the begals on the table. And then it happened...Braty-Brat while grabbing for his begal, flipped the basket onto the floor.

Daddy-Oh-No-No let out...
the loudest F-Bomb you have ever heard. The whole place just froze. Daddy Oh-No-No did not miss a beat. He picked up the bagel, tossed in the trash, and then sat down. Braty-Brat was like "Where is my begal?" Daddy-Oh-No-No took off on a trirate that lasted for what seemed like forever about how he was not going to eat ever again!

And then...
a glimmer of nicness must of surfaced, becasue Daddy-Oh-No-No took half of his sister's begal and gave it to Braty-Brat. Could Daddy-Oh-No-No be turning over a new leaf because he felt some remorse? Oh Hellz no! Daddy-Oh-No-No continued to tell Braty-Brat that he is lucky to be even eating and that he got the crapy half of the bagel (NOTE: Yes, he did say crapy!). To which Braty-Brat said, "Everyone is eating half a begal!" To this I looked around and thought, "Touche Daddy-Oh-No-No; Braty-Brat is 100% correct, because people eat their bagel one half at a time!"

Secretly..
I cannot wait until next Saturday to see what happens! I know, I am terrible and I love it! Winky-wink!


Urban Word of the Day (and we all know at least one person who does this):

Whole Grazer
Person who feels as though Whole Foods is so expensive that in order to get their money's worth, they have to try every sample available, often multiple times

"That place is expensive, but he's a Whole Grazer so he just wanders around eating samples until he has eaten so much that it has paid for his groceries"

March 16: Guys Actin Like Chicks

Happy "Everything You Do Is Right Day!" So, if you walk out of Saks without paying for those fierce new Gucci gladiator pumps (NOTE: Have you seen them?!); no worries! If you decide to keep the new 600 BMW that you are test driving and leave your old grocery getter at the dealership; no problem. If you inform your neighboro "YES!" she is a total bee-otch; go for it! It is your day; and guess what? You cannot be wrong!

So...
Carl-E and I went out with a few friends last Tuesday night; nothing fancy, just a brew pub. Now, being the oly female of the group, I knew that the convay could and more than likely would cover numerous categories, such as the rack on the bartender, how the Hawks are doing to the rack on the server. Being that I sometimes think that I have bigger and shinier jewels than most men I encounter, your girl can totally hang.

Well...
One of the guys that was there I never met before. He leaned a bit to the husky side, his facial expression never ever changed, however he was nice enough. So, after our dinners arrived the convay switched from crazy-ass bosses to chicks; no problem. I asked Mr. Stone Face if he had a girl or 6 and he said, "No" and continued to engulf his plate of nachos.

And then...
One of the other guys began to talk about a girl that all three of them tried to make the moves on (NOTE: I know who she is and she is "move" worthy). The convay did not get too raunchy, but the discussion about her derriere went on at great lengths. I just sat there sipping my beer, and shakin my head whenever a comment was made and then I was looked at for vindication.

Now...
Each guy is very different looking, so what I was asking moi was "Why was not she interested in atleast one of them?" So, I went over the "Girl-Mental-Check-List:
- Good jobs CHECK (Money is very imporant; a girls has to shop, ya know!)
- Nice Watches CHECK (This is important, because most men do not wear jewelry, so if they have one piece it should be a nice watch not some busted Swatch from 1982)
- Nice Clothes Half-A-CHECK (A shine on the collar or on the pant crease from over-dry cleanin is a NO! NO!)
- Smell Good CHECK (No dousing like you are putting out a huge forest fire in Cali; just enough so if they lean in you can faintly smell it)
- Nice Shoes Half-A-CHECK (A nice pair of shoes announces that the man cares about details; too many men wear nice clothes and busted-ass kicks!)
- Up-to-Date haircut CHECK (No CPA side part!)
- Speaks intelligently CHECK (After a few drinks anyone sounds intelligent!)
- Not sloppy drunk CHECK (This is so college!)
- Not self-centered CHECK (The convay should not focus about him, him, and more him! How tres dull!)
- Easy on the eyes Half-A-CHECK (Whoever said that it what inside that counts, should be shot. Who wants to wake up next to Quasimodo?)

So, all three did pretty good. So, I ask "Why did all of you strike out?" "Well" one begins "She likes big guys," and without missing a beat and with a total straight face, he continues "...like Mr. Stone Face, but he is a bit too big." Oh snap! Mr. Stone Face's friend totally tossed him and his nachos under the speeding bus!

I expected...
for Mr. Stone Face's friend to start laughin, but no, no, no, my little tators! He just picked up his burger and continued to chow down. Now in Chickland, if one girl said that to another it would be so on! I began to kick Carl-E under the table, but he shot me a look like "Why in the h-e-double hockey sticks are you kickin me!" I just sat their in disbelief of what I just heard. Isn't there some guy code about insulting your friend in a mega hard way in front of a female?

On the way home...
I told Carl-E why I kicked him. He said he did not even catch the comment. Maybe in Guyland, guys do shee-ite like that and it is concidered no-harm no-foul. And if that is the case, they can NEVER live in Chickland because the bee-otches weave would be rollin down the street after it was snatched off her head.

And I out....

March 9: Bringin' Down The Branch

Happy "Panic Day," tators. Embrace your panic attacks! Just when you feel you are going to pass out from the walls closing in; RUN, TATOR, RUN! Use that energy to propel your legs as fast as you can. By the time you calasp from the shortness of breath, massive leg cramps, and that annoying stabbing pain in your side your panic attack will be a thing of the past.

Ok, let's get busy yo...
Yesterday, Carl-E and I were working in the backyard. Now, you are probably thinking, "Didn't they just plop down a butt load of cash to have the backyard done?" Well, the answer is "Correct!" However, because no one can complete things up to Carl-E's standards, we had to go in with shovels a-blazin' and re-finish the finished project (NOTE: This occurrence occurs with every project; this is why I can install windows, do electoral, lay brick, etc.).

So, there we are...
shoveling mulch from the ridiculously large water oak (NOTE: Florida tators, you can stop shivering now) stump that was ground down into oblivion into those large paper bags (NOTE: The City of Hot-Lanta can only have recycling once every other week, but they will not, absolute will not take yard stuff unless it is in those paper bags!). Once, we filled, oh over 50 bags (NOTE: I have to fill 6 a day until all that shee-ite is gone; that's my weekly project!), we decided to move on to "The Tree."

There is a large...
branch that hangs over our Jacuzzi and it blocks the sun from lightly kissing my skin as I relax in the bubbly 103 degree water. I told Carl-E to get the saw and start a-hackin'. Because the branch from "The Tree" is considered by Hot-Lanta law on our propriety, even though the tree itself is in our neighbor yard, we had every God-Given right to saw away!

As...
Carl-E is half way in bring the branch down to Chinatown, our backyard neighbor come running out with hands a crazy-waving and voice a yelping, "What are you doing?" I was thinking, "Duh, what does it look like, genius?" So, she starts into this 5 minute rant about how she has been so understanding about our backyard, and how she can now see into our backyard because we removing the branch, the tall bushes, and now we can see into her backyard, and blah, blah, blah (NOTE: There is nothing I want to see in her house unless she has Daniel Craig over in a swimsuit; oh so tasty!)

I...
just stood there listing to her insensible ramblings. Carl-E tried to calm her down, but she was not having it. And then she said, "If you only would of extended the wall another 5 feet we would not have this problem." Ok, now she stepped over the proverbial line, because:
A) Who the F%^$ does she think she is to tell us that "we" have a problem; she has a problem in her crazy-ass mind
4) It is our backyard and if I want to paint the back of my house hot pink with black polk-a-dots I damn will
c) Unless she is thrown dollas into the backyard bank, she needs to shut her pie hole!

Now...
it was time for me to speak my peace, so I say "Look the plan for the wall is as is; no longer" To this she says pointing to the beautiful new lugstrum bushes, "Well, you need to buffer our yards and those bushes are not going to do it." (NOTE: We brought new bushed that are 3 feet high; I was not going to spend beaucoup pieces of chedda to appease her!). So, I said, "Sorry, but that is what we are planting" as I was opening my mental 2000 square foot walk-in closet, complete with leopard carpet and pink walls and taking down my Jersey suit (NOTE: It needs to be pressed; where's my pledge!). Sensing that I was slowly losing my grip on reality, Carl-E jumps in and finishes the conversation (NOTE: I kept tryin to interject my thoughts, but Carl-E kept cutting me off).

She...
turns and leaves and I go totally bonkers; tossin the F-bomb around like is was singles at a strip bar. Carl-E just sat there and let me go on, and on, and on, and on. When I finally stopped to catch my breath, he said, "Let's get in the car." While walking to the car, driving in the car,and getting out of the car, I was still putting the verbal beat down on our neighbor.

And then...
I notice we are at the nursery. Well, guess what? Carl-E insisted we buy two of the big bushes. I was like, "WHAT?!" But, then I sensed the opportunity to get the upper hand. "If we buy the BIG bushes; I want the cool-holly-tree-thingy for the front door." (NOTE: If it was a combo she/nursery I would of insisted that I get a new pair of strappy platform sandals, but the tree-thingy is very cool and it compliments my red front door to perfection!)

Guess what...
I got the cool holly-thingy for the front door and Carl-E and our horseface neighbor chatted while I sat in the potting shed (NOTE: I was ordered not to be around when they chatted) and she "Approved" of the new bushes (NOTE: Yes, she did say she approved!).

All is well, when CA gets well...
what she wants!

And, I am off to hit the pavement!

March 4: Trail Mix Time; Can I Get a What What?!

Happy "Holy Experiment Day!" Now this is a very intriguing day, Tators being Catholic and all. I have many experiments to select from to recreate:
- Try to walk on water while wearing my LV wedges
- Turn water into yummy Malbec
- Spend 40 days in the desert while hangin' out with the Lucifer or the other name the devil is known as...Godiva
- Resurrect the dead...80's big hair that is (Note: I really do not know about this one; the ozone may not be able to take it)

Well, let's move on...
There has a plethora of this and that have been going on:
- We used to have recycling picked up once a week. Now, the City of Hot-Lanta is picking it up every OTHER week. Ok, I pay beaucoup amounts of dollas in taxes to this city, but it is broke-ass-broke like a ho with extra teeth (NOTE: Use your imagination). Now, being that one of my New Year's resolution was to recycle more, I was not going to take this notice lying down! So, I headed into the dirt cellar, get two of the billzion plastic tubs that are stacked against the wall (NOTE: I love me some plastic tubs, actually I love any box, bin, or container to store and organize; can you say OCD!) I get out the mega Sharpie and write "RECYCLE!" Now, I have three bins; no one gets puts Princess CA in the corner (NOTE: A little "Dirty Dancing" reference for ya!). Just let them try and take only the "official" bin; I'll be putting on my Jersey suit, openin' a can of whoop ass, and gettin' out my kick-ass-list and got ape s* on our Mayor's bleach blond itty-bitty fro for sho!

- Ok, so I have this Blackcherry. And to be honest, I am totally and utterly head over heals in crush with this object. I could never go back to the Razor (NOTE: Unless you bribed me with a a few new LV's!) Now, being the artsy-type I need to have everything matchy-matchy. So, I spent a few, oh hours cruisin' the internet highway when Carl-E was working late again for new themes (NOTE: The standard ones just plain SUCK!)and I discovered the coolest ones are free. I found a slew of HK (NOTE: That's Hello Kitty for those of you who are so not in the know) and Tokidoki (NOTE: A fabu cartoon artist)! Now, my Blackcherry is stylin' and profilin' with a rockin' Geisha on the desktop. Smokin'!

- Speaking of "smokin'"; I am so ticked off that Brett Michaels totally wore out the term "Smokin' Hot!" That used to be my term, mine, all mine damn it! Especially for some male that is easy on the eyes, such as George Clooney or Daniel Craig (NOTE: Of James Bond you are so dreamy). Now, I taking applications a new sayin'. I think I visit the Urban Dictionary and scope out the prospects.

- Speaking of the Urban Dictionary; latley the words have been rockin'! Like, "rebooty" I almost feel off my IKEA office chair when I read the def. I wish that term was around when I was single, because it sounds much better than a some other terms that I can think of (NOTE: For the sentive ears of my readers I will not list the naughty and crass terms; just think for a bit and they will start poping up in your mind!)

- Ok, we had the a Jack-And-The-Bean-Stalk-Size-Like oak removed from our yard. The M'F*er was over 8 feet in diameter; that's like two of me! We had the stump ground, but now we have a site load of wood chips strode all over the backyard. The company wants $450 to haul the chips away. Yeah, and I will go back to carrying Coach bags! So, if you need mulch, I gotts the hook up, yo!

No Wukkas; Tators!

Feb 25: The Last Installment!

Happy "Hump Day" Tators and "Happy Pistol Patent Day (Samuel Colt)"; it's a two-fer day! So, if you need to break out your deuce-deuce and take out that co-worker who keeps using your fav coffee mug with the kitten and hearts on it; today is your day! If you need to flash your Hello Kitty AK-47 (NOTE: And "YES" they do make these; I asked for one but Carl-e said I do not need it) at the nasty sales lady at Neimans who would not call another store to find out if they had the Fendi flats that you really did not need; well go for it (NOTE: Does this story sound familiar?!). And if you just want to have some fun and whip out the super soaker and loving dretch the people that you do not love; go for it!

Ok, the last full day...
we were to spend it soaking up the sun on the cruise line's island. We awaoke early, filled out bellies with yummy breakfast vittles, and boarded the boat to the island. Apon walking on the soft sand (NOTE: Not that gritty Florida sand that sticks to everything and is so itchy!) we encounted a sea of lounge chairs. We staked out our land, and sat our tushes down, made freinds with the server boy, and had frosty beers in our hands by 10:30!

The weather...
was perfect; a cool breeze and warm sun. So, we decided to switch up our drinkin' a bit and order fancy-smanshy tropicaly island drinks. I ordered a "Pain in the Ass" (NOTE: Half Rum Runner and half Pina Colda; so luscious), Sophie, Nyia, Yevette had Bahama Moma's, I think Frannie has a Margarita, and as far as Carl I have no clue. Now, when you are dishin' out 10 dollas for a drink you expect to get a decent amount of liquid courage.

So...
Sophie snapped her Theta fingers and next thing we knew, we had more delish rum in our drinky-poos! Now, siting behind us were some guys. They were not working on at the bar because they were not sporting the nifty yellow polos and we did not think they were on the cruise. When Nyia got up, she was flashing her new tattoo,; the symbol for Caner; then we heard the now legendary cat call, "69! 69!"

At first...
we ignored them, but then it was like they were everywhere that we were asking, "Where is 69?" Finally, to assume ourselves, we began to talk to them. It winds up that they were island security! Can you believe?! Well, one of them took aliken to Sophie. And, what does a proper man that wants to court you do? Well, show you a naked photo of himself on his cell phone of course! No lie, homies! And, I can say he does not know about man-scaping! Come on it is 2009!

Now...
Blue/Black (NOTE: He had the darkest, prettiest color skin, so Nyia knighted him Blue/Black) took alikin to Carla. Now, Carla has been learning how to booty clap, and I knew she had had a few drinks, so I gave her my IPod and let her throw her azz around the beach to the Ying Yang Twins. I thought Frannie was going to die trying to get Carla to stop shaking that jelly!

Back to Sophie...
and her new beau. He was totally mac'in' on her. He might not groom, but he must be smooth, because next thing we know they are married and we are getting free beers! Then it was time to leave the island and return to the boat. Sophie said farwell to her new husband and I grabbed the rest of the free beers.

It was one of the best trips I ever took, and I cannot wait until next year. Yes, ladies and gents this will be a yearly deal!

Peace out, mo fos!

Feb 24: Soon to Be A Jail Bird?

Oh happy day, today is lots of things, tators! For one, it is Fat Tuesday! So, y'all shorties flash 'em if you gotts them to get those beads (NOTE: They are not priceless pearls; not even fresh water. There are made-in-China-man-made-material-cheap-ass-orbs-that-cost-a-whole-.01-cent-to-make!) But, for some reason we become obsessed with getting those damn beds as if we were at a 80% off Burberry sale (NOTE: A girl can only dream!). In addition, it is "National Tortilla Chip Day!" So, intead of keeping the days seperate, let's have a number 2 combo! Toss chips instead of beads! Well, whatever you toss or flash, enjoy because once Lent starts you must give up one item. I know you are wondering what I am giving up; shopping at Wal-Mart! It will be hard to resist the temptation, but I have a will of steel!

Now...
I know I owe you part three of the cruise, but I must divert, because today I went to court. I was sooo nervous, because I have never stood in front of a judge before (NOTE: Unless you count the time I had to bail my mother out of the big houee; but that's for another time). A dear friend told me to dress fierce and fashionable. So, I brook out my "Mrs. Gillert" clothes; buiness-ish with just enough CA fabu.

Then...
Carl-E gets home, because he got a yellow ticket, too! The minute he sees me he says, "Why are you all dress up?" I respond with "Well, I am going to court, I must look the part." He just shook his head. We arrived at the court house, go to the room, and are told to fill out one of two forms; one form is for "Not Guilty" the other is for "Guilty." Well, I was perplexed!

Because...
I was guilty for not having my ID, but I was not guilty about my tag, because it was really registered and the glitch was on the State's end. So, I filled out both. I walked up to the lady to hand her my forms, and she (Note: Who will be referred to as Mrs. Personality 2009, because her's sucked!) said, full of ASS-ATUDE I might add, "Why you fill out two forms?" And, "Yes" Mrs. Personality 2009 did say it just like that. I began to explain to Mrs. Personality 2009 "Why?", but in mid-sentence she cut me off, and said "You need to plead not guilty." (NOTE: SHe is not an attorny nor does she play one on TV), I began to ask "Why?", but but I only got "WH" out before she cut me off again. This time Mrs. Personality 2009 put her hot pink air-brushed with gold bubbles taloned-hand near my face; NEAR MY FACE! NEAR MY FACE! Now, hold the phone sista! I began to clutch the papers in my fist, and I felt Carl-E knock the back of my arm, because he knew I was about to reach into my Jersey draw and put on my whoop-ass suit.

She said...
"You just need to plea not guilty and sit down, Mrs. Gilbert" Now, there is one thing that grates my last nerve is when people call me "Gilbert." When I was just a "Banacki" I was used to it being slaughtered, and no one can ever pronounce my first name. Hell, one of my advisors for my masters program call me Corrine for years. But, Gillert is not difficult, even if they pronounced it the En France way, I could understand, but I cannot understand GILBERT! (NOTE: And Gilbert just sounds nerdy; which I am so not). Now, do not think I did not correct her, cause I did, and I said, "It is GILLERT" and dragged out the "T" and made that "Tuh" sound at the end.

Well...
I just as I was about to say something else, Carl-E put his hands on my shoulders, and turned me towards benches. He whispered to me, "Please do not make me have to bail you out of jail!" Next, was Carl-E's turm, and all of a sudden Mrs. Personallity 2009 got sugary-sweet. She looked at Carl-E's ticket and said, "I am going to dismiss your ticket, since you and your wife both have the same citation." OMG! OMG! OMG! I thought, "So it is gonna be like that, bee-otch?! If I was tall, Latin, and of the male persuasion I could of gotten out of the ticket, too?!" (NOTE: I was taller than usual, because I did have on hot 5" black peep toes shoes, but I am not Latin or male). If she offered him a cup of coffee and a message with a happy ending right there, I would of not of even blinked.

Ok, back to me...
So they call Carl to the podium, and the judge says this and that and dismisses his ticket; bastard! Next I go up. Before I can say anything, the judge says, "Mrs. Gillert pick a date?" There on a yellow post-it note where three dates. So, I picked March 17. And then the judge says, "We'll see you then." OMG! My expression must of pure confusion, as if I stepped into the LV store and they only sold Guess handbags! So, the judge said "Mrs. Gillert you pleaded 'Not guilty,' so you have to have a trail." I swear I almost passed out. The judge went on to explain that it would not be a jury trail, but I had to come back, and then he asked if I wanted to consult council. Oh, I really started to feel the vapors. I said, "No" and the judge agreed that I did not council, and said I was done for the day.

On the way home...
I told Carl-E that he now owes me the LV Blackcherry case I have been lusting over, because he got his tush out of the ticket! So, tators your girl will be a-walking to the LV store tomorrow!

I gotts to go sew me a striped suit incase I has to go to the big house. I 'm a thinkin pink and black; instead of black and white. Whatch ya think?!

Feb 20: And the Saga Continues...

Happy Friday and Happy "National Hoodie Hoo Day!" Hoodie Hoo Day is when you go outside and yell, "Hoodie Hoo" to make winter go away. I tried it, and it is still freezing. So, the fool that had the nuts to copyright this day should has his or her buttass kicked! But I do like the word, it is kind of fun! I have to apologize for making you wait for another cruise installment, but Carl-E has me running all over Hot-Lanta for this little dinner party he his hosting tomorrow night. The things you do for love...
Ok, here we go...

It is Saturday...
and the sun is a shining, the sea gulls are a screamin' "Mine! Mine! Mine!" and the scammers are out full force; ready to try to lift all of our American dollas for some lame ride around the island! But, before we can tell the scammers to "Take their fantastic Bahamin accent and step off" we must take 50 million photographs with the cruise line's photographers.
First...
It is the dolphin that looks like the 1972 moth-eaten mascot uniform from the local high school that has been stored in the gym locker room; this poor man must of been roastin' in that suit because it was just a tad bit warm. Sensing his misery, Carla gave his back fin a little squeeze.
B...
It was the lonely photographer that had no props; so we had no time for his lame ass.
3...
It was the makeshift railing-thingy with the faux life preserver. We all struck a pose, waved "Adios" to our adoring fans and the paparazzi and sauntered to the shops.

Strolling...
down the street we examined the numerous chochkees that every beach town has for the "fools-and-their-money-are-soon-parted" tourists. There was the token circa 1980's postcards that has the girl in the florescent thong and just a touch of sand on her badonk. The shot glasses with the "Bahama Mama" in cherry, bright colors that wash off in the dishwasher or that break in your suitcase on the way back to your land locked town in the middle of nowhere. And the piece-de-resistance the tacky, tacky t-shirts (NOTE: We almost succumbed to the tourist tackiness and brought matching shirts, but by some divine intervention there were not enough for us!).

After...
peering at all these "goodies" we decided to hit the straw market. If you have never been, you imagine a flea market with rows and rows of stuff. Now, shrink the rows, so that two people can barely pass each other with out touching some body part. Now fill the shelves very imaginable knock-off designer handbag made by the little hands of poor Chinese child laberors, shell jewelry, and a billzion straw bags, hats, and even napkin rings! While searching for our treasures, and being cat-called after; "Pretty Lady, what do you like?, Today I give you for $5" we became separated. After search high, and searching low, and all around the mulberry bush, we could not find Nyia and Carla. So, I turned to Sophie, Fran and Yvette and said, "Would it be mean if we just left them?" And with out missing a beat, Fran replied, "No!"

Off to...
Senor Frogs we went to have a bit of nosh and brews. While we were eating, there were triva games being played and if you got the correct answer, you got a free shot. There was this one lady, who will refer to as "She-who-will-fall-on-her-face" was getting everyone right; she possed more unusful knowledge than your's truly! Now, noticing that she was not in her 20's but probally late 40's and by the looks of it she had not cut loose from her sububan life in ages, she was out to tear it back with a vengance. And her husband was encouraging it 1000%! Well, it was Velentine's Day and I am so sure he wanted to hit that back on the ship! (NOTE: You are probally wondering what Carl-E did since his fabu wife was on a cruise; he did what ever non-date havin' man does on Valentine's Day, go to a strip bar!)

After...
We ate, I tried, I mean really tried to buy these fierce Gucci shoes I saw in a magazine, but they did not have them; boo-hoo! Next, we toured the Atlantis, and returned to the boat. The four of us split up to do our own thang for a bit. I caught up with Frannie, spotted Carla and Nyia, and then Sophie and yvette.

Well...
Nyia got a new tattoo; her zodiac symbol for Caner, or as the locals called it "69!" Her and Carla hooked up with some guy and partook in a few drinks at Senor Frogs. While they were there, a cart came out. Now imagin a long cart to stack boxes. But this cart is painted in wild colors and has the Senor Frog's logo all over. Nyia's new friend makes a comment that he had not seen that cart for a while. A few minutes later, the cart returns with a person on it. Before Nyia could continue the story I asked her, was the person it a woman with blond hair, wearing a hat, and a black short sleeve t? To which Nyia said, "YES!"
So tators, guess who was laying on the cart like a side of beef...
"She-who-will-fall-on-her-face"
They had to wheel her alcohol soak ass back to the ship. Her poor husband was not getting any booty that night!

And I am off to Target to pick up more plates, because I am not using the good China.

Hit me on the hip!

Feb 17: Cougar Cruise Part 1!

Good morning, tators and "Happy National Battery Day." In my casa we have a designated drawer for these modern marvels. Without them, many things could not function, such as the guy's best friend; the TV remote. However, I cannot tell you which ones work and which ones have kicked the bucket. And, I admit this is my fault, because I just toss the old ones in and snatch out new ones. This drives Carl-E crazy; I like to call it "keeping him on his toes!" So celebrate the "A" "AA" "AAA" "D"; wait a minute this seems very familiar, as if I was in a Cosabella boutique. So, screw the batteries and go and gets yourself some new fancy unmentionables!

Well, let's start with Friday!
After sitting next to a toddler that just had to continuously sneeze all over me during the two hour flight, I arrived at MIA sporting fashionable vintage boyfriend Levi jeans, Burberry travel bag, and my suitcase bursting with up-to-the-moment outfits. About 15 minutes later, I met up with Nyia and Fran, next to show up was Sophie and Yvette. However we where missing one more...
Carla.
According to her text to Fran, something was wrong with her flight. We instantly all thought that was code for "Carla missed her flight."

Let me school you...
Carla is NEVER on time. She is on perpetual "CP" time. Now, if you do not know what that is; Goggle it.

So, the 5 of us jump in a taxi and head towards the port. We finally get on the boat, after Soph's bag was racially profiled and taken into custody. She was told that it would be returned to her only after extensive questioning and a full cavity search. As we wave "good-Bye" to Sophie's bag not knowing when and if she will ever really see it again, we trot to our cabins humming a happy little vacay tune.

Upon reaching our temporary residences...
we discover that not all our cabins are together. UH-OH; someone gotts some splainin' to do! We make our way to the so-called help desk to correct this glitch. Despite our first friendly attitudes which quickly began to travel south when we were told several times, "No!No!No! you can not switch cabins" we did not get our way! Well what makes a bad situation better; ALCOHOL! With swaggers and a bit of 'tude in our steps, we moseyed on up to the pool side bar to partake in a few pre-set-sail drinks. However, Sophie had to stick with to rums and cokes sans the rums, because she did not have her sea legs yet.

Now...
the boat is set to set sail at 5pm, and it is now 3pm and still no Carla. Frannie receives another text that proclaims she is on her way. Now you maybe asking, "Were we worried that she would miss the boat?" Oh Hell-Z no! Because the first person to inform her that she would not be able to board would have their life snuffed out within a nano-second. Then after the shock of frozen-fear wore off, to subdued the wild beast; the captain, himself would take her by her hand and escort her to the Presidential suite, hand her a stack of Benjies, and thank her for gracing the boat with her presence. Finally, with 15 minutes and 4.7 seconds before we set sail, Carla shows up in a whirlwind of hands a flying and mouth a-speaking about how it is not her fault that she is late. We just let her babble on with her tale of airline woes and we continued to consume our beverages. (NOTE: She is still sticking to the story that the airline over booked her, but I think her ass overslept! Wink! Wink!)

It is...
safety drill time. We don our not-designer-inspired day-glow life vests and listen to the instructions in like 50 languages (NOTE: I guess after all the recent "oops-over-boards" the ships need to cover their tushes!). After the less-than-stimulating safety drill, we stash our vests and head on out for dinner, convay, and drinky-poos. But before we can do this, Nyia needs to get two pairs of shorts and one shirt pressed; she cannot have a wrinkle in her threads, yo! She makes the steward swear he would throw himself overboard if her items will be returned the next morning. Now for those of you who do not know Nyia, she is a Harley riddin' mama that likes things her WAY; do not think about putting a tomato on her sandwich if it has the tiny green spot, it must be the only the ripest and the most perfect shade of red; do not give her fresh squeeze orange juice with pulp, it must be minus pulp and chilled to a perfect 40 degrees; and you best return her clothes when you say!

Saturday morning...
we are awoken to a lovely Australian accent. Actually, he promise a "warm wake-up" (NOTE: Sophie is still waiting for it. Hee! Hee!). So, we jump out of bed and ready for a day of one of my favs; shopping! We go down to Nyia and Carla's room where Ms. Nyia is on the phone verbally beatin' the person on the other line about the whereabouts of her wardrobe and threatening to walk around naked after she puts a hurtin' on numerous someones, and at the same time Carla is trying to explain that pirates are attaching the ship because the little voice that came over the intercom told her. The four of us just slowly backed on out, and shut the door, and headed for breakfast.


Next time...
Does Nyia really roam Nassau in the buff?
Do the pirates kidnap Carla?
Does Carrieann find anything to purchase?
Does Sophie ever get her warm wake-up?
Does Fran ever look bad?
Does Yvette ever stop smiling?

Until next time my tators!
Loves ya!

Feb 3: The Cheatin' Kind

Hola, tators and happy "Cordova Ice Worm Day" Now you are probably wondering what in the world is a Cordova Ice Worm, well so was I! With curiosity peek to the level of a cat, I Googled it!

Well...
It seems that it was a hoax created by a reporter way back in the olde days. But, today it is a rump-shakin' par-thay. Every year the town of Cordova, Alaska celebrates the mythical ice worm with a winter carnival that is held during the last week of January or the first week of February. The festival includes the election of an ice worm king and queen. So, if you desire to become the worm queen, you have a full year to prepare! Get your parka and snow shoes ready!

Ok...
We have all cheated in one way or another. I am so sure that over 90% of us cheated on a diet by giving in to rich chocolate cake, crispy french fries, or juicy burger despite the saying, "Once on the lips; forever on the hips!" Or, flashback to high school, and you totally forgot about a Social Study test on the New Deal (NOTE: Now we all know that you really did not forget about the test, you were doing more important things, such as your nails, talking on the phone, or writing your name over and over again with your last name replaced with that cute boy's sir name in your Science class). So, now you have to take a peek at your neighbor's paper in order to pass.

Even better...
You cheat on your college boyfriend with his best friend (NOTE: Well, he is cuter and older, so he can get you beers, beers, beers!!), or you cheat on your taxes (NOTE: Screw the government they do not need the extra cash; oh wait; they do!).

But, the worst cheat...
is when you cheat on your hair stylist. It is so bad, it should be the eleventh commandment; "Thou Shall not cheat on one's stylist!" Why is this so bad? Well, you develop a very intimate relationship with your stylist. She is like your mother, psychologist, sister, and spiritual adviser all rolled up into one. She know your crazy-ass cowlicks, dry-ass split ends, and what your natural hair color really is despite the fact you tell other that it is naturally the gorgeous color of a mid-western wheat field blowing in the spring breeze!

And...
your stylist knows all your deep dark secretes. You chat about how your husband said you have C-cup ta-tas, but a D-cup badonk; how you really hit the garbage can when backing out of the driveway even though you said someone hit you in the mall parking lot; and how you really hate your neigboro despte the fact that you are nice to her face.

But then...
despite this relationship, you meet someone else. While at the vet, you make a comment about the receptionist's fabu glossy, amber locks. She says a coy voice, "Thank you" and delves into a tale about how she found utopia in the hands of her new stylist. As you hang on every word, you are salivating at the sight of ease of movement of her layers. And then, she hands you the number. You take it and tuck it inside your LV wallet and try to forget the whole incident.

Now...
you cannot get the conversation off your mind. You want that beautiful, bouncy locks, and you want them now! You rationalize the phone call by telling yourself, "It's not really cheating, you are only going to talk." So, you meet the new stylist; she has an effervescent personality and hair that will make you want to kill half of the world for. She runs her fingers through your hair, and begins to suggest this and that. The whole time you are envisioning how the whole room will come to a halt when you step in, and it will not be because of your new Milly shift; it is because of your mane!

You decide...
to take the plunge and say, "Let's do it!" But, before she can answer, you remember this is just a "meeting" not a really appointment. You realize you have an out, the guilt begins to creep over you like an icky, scratchy wool sweater, but before you can head for the door, she says, "I have a cancelation, let's do it now!" Scissors start snipping, brush begins pulling, dryer begins drying, and the whole time you are not thinking about the "other one."

When it is over...
you feels fantastic; your hair is no longer limp, dull, and ashy! It is full of life, and so are you. You bounce out of the salon with an air of "I did something naughty,but oh so nice!" When you get home, your mood has changed. You now have to tell your other stylist that you cheated. It is not like she will not find out, your have superior hair. Well, you can always use that infamous line...

"It's not you; it's me!"
(NOTE: I can contest that it works for I used it numerous times!)

"Get a pedicure, get your hair did!"

Jan 30: Clearin' Things Up For Y'All!

Happy Friday and "National Escape Day!" So if you are currently a prisoner and need to get out of Dodge; today is the day you have been waiting for; run, Forrest, run! Hey, your captures have to let it you, it is National Escape Day and all!

Well, many of my dear Tators sent me questions, concerns, and comments about last evening's post. So, I've decided to set the record straight, so you will not lose anymore Zzzz's worrying your pretty little heads off about my well being. Thank you so much for your concerns; you are all too kind!

1. Are an alcoholic?
Well...No, I, "hick-hick-hick" I think. Back in the day when I was kickin' it Jersey-style I would say "Yes!" But, now my lifestyle and liver could not deal with excess amounts of excess. I do not think you'll see me on an episode of "Intervention" anytime soon. However, I am known to enjoy an adult beverage once in a while, especially after climbing the highest summit in Europe; now that was a par-thay; Russian beer and belly dancers is all you need to know!

B. How much did you really consume before you were pulled over?
This is an easy one; two glasses of red healthy-for-your-heart wine over a 4 hour period. Now, according to my calculations done on my Hello Kitty calculator, that's about 3oz every hour; or 1.5oz every half an hour; not bad, not bad!

Trois. What did you get pulled over for?
Well, I was just at the right place at the right time, but the prize was not a pair of Christian Louboutin black patten, hidden platform, sling-backs; it was two yellow tickets! Yippy-F'in-Skippy! She just randomly ran my tag and her computer told her I was a bad, bad, girl that was rollin' without a valid licenses, no registration or insurance. But, the computer was WRONG-O! I made many of furious and feaverish calls the next day and the mistake is the City of Hot-Lanta. But, I still have to go to court, because "The Man" said so. They should be thankful that the CP was already empty, so I just penciled them in.

5. What about the fire arms?
I did not have them; Carl-E did. Georgia is a reciprocal state with FLA. Even if the lady-in-blue ran the serials numbers, there would of not been any problems. Hey, you gotts to pack heat when you are a cruise in the ATL, you just never know when you will have to pop a cap in someone's ass! That's how I roll, sucka!

C. Where able to drive home?
Oh yeah! Now, some people were very surprised by this because I had no ID. But, I just stepped up to the po-po and said, "Check this out chica, yous gonna let me drive my ride to my casa, cause my babies are a waitin' for their mama." Translation: I have no idea why she let me drive home, but she did.

6. Where you really texting while you were pulled over?
Oh, hellz ya! I now got this Blackcherry thingy down tight! How else was I supposed to communicate with my other half; who's best words of advise were "Eat Mints!". I assumed the blackberry pray position as soon as I shut my car off. I even posted to Facebook just in case I had to have someone wire me money to spring me from the slamma. But on the seriously tip, Carl-E do not have any fams in the ATL, so it we were hauled away to the big house, we would be screwed with a capital "SCREWED!"

Well, tators, I hope this 411 eases your mind. So, it is Friday, drink 'em if you got 'em!

And I out.

BlackBerry Prayer

The supplicating position one assumes when grasping the popular six-ounce wireless combination e-mailer/phone known as the BlackBerry between your palms and thumb-tapping messages on its QWERTY keyboard.

Jan 29: Pull-Over; It's Not The fahion Police!

Happy "National Cornchip Day," tators. Now, I because I did not indulge in cornchips today I am affraid that 5-O might come-a knock, knock, knocking on my door. Maybe I should pay homage to the oh-chip-of-corn by consuming its more tastier cusin, the potato chip. However, if I do that I might get a ticket for "Illegally Utilizing One Greasy Snack Food to Impersonate Another High Calorie Treat." Honestly, I do not think I can handle another tango with the poe-poe.

Now...
That the events of Monday night are behind me, like last spring's jelly shoes and I am totally over my self-induced frenzy, I can retell the story with a sense of humor. I am so happy that I have the ability to laugh at myself, because everyone else does, too!

So, here we go; hold on folks...
Carl-E and I had dinner with his girlfriend, Ron and another associate. We had a lovely time; I had the lobster special, the other three had shrimp and grits. Now, I do not like grits; I'm from Jersey it is oatmeal all the way baby. I believe it is made from the same material as a cornchip but like the parts that are not good enough to become a Fritto, kind of like how pieces/parts are used for chicken nuggets.

Anywho...
During my lobster feast, I part took in a few glasses of vino; a mellow Shiraz. Carl-E had his usual drink of choice; Ketle One and tonic. Now, tonic is whole other thing that I just do not get. By itself it tastes like nothing if nothing tasted really nast-ee!

Well...
After dinner Carl-E and I headed home. We had separate autos, because the restaurant is closer to his office than our casa. So, there I am zippin’ down the road singing my little heart out to Prince (NOTE: Hot-Lanata's radio station S-U-C-K big time; so I am reduced to listen to CD's because my IPod adapter; well that sucks too. Maybe it is time for a new ride so I can get satellite radio, HD radio, IPod plug-in thingy, and a CD player. I do have my eye on the 600 convertible or maybe I finally get my dream car, the car of heaven, the Carrera!)

So...
I am jammin to Prince, when I see flashing lights in my rearview mirror, and not like disco lights but the law lights. Like a law abiding citizen, I pull over so the officer can apprehend the criminal that is doing bad-bad things. But, to my super-duper surprise, the police car was behind ME! Automatically, my mind started to go into over drive; "Was I speeding?" (NOTE: This I know is impossible because I rarely go over the speed limit, because there is so much traffic), next I was like "Was my music too loud?" (Note: Do people even get pulled over for this anymore?). I had no clue what I did.

And then...
My blackcherry starts a winkin' at me; it was Carl-E asking if I was pulled over. And then the next text, "EAT MINTS; CHEW GUM!" So, I start diggin’ in my LV, get the mint tin which proceeds to explode all over my seat, I begin choppin’ on mints while flicking the spilt mints off my seat and kicking them under my seat, because they are white and little, like oh PILLS! The officer comes over and asks if I know why I was pulled over, well in my head I was all sorts of attitude and like, "How the f*%$ should I know, bee-otch! You bests step off because I ain’t playin’" But, to her face I shyly whisper, "No, officer." And then she asked for my ID, insurance and registration.

But...
As Beyonce would say, "Do the uh oh, do the uh oh!" Guess who forgot her fabu lime green LV wallet in her gym bag? So, there I am with no ID, no proof of insurance, and no registration. Next, my minds starts to go; "I am wearing stilettos when I get arrested. Will they give me three-sixes-too-big flip flops to wear? Thank goodness I just had a pedi." "Will someone steal my LV while I am in the slammer and try to replace is with some broke-ass K-Mart blue light special handbag that has 'C's' and 'D's' instead of 'L's' and 'V's'?" "Will I have to wear that hideous orange jumpsuit, because I do not look in orange? Coral is much more flattering to for my complexion." While the movie of my arrest is playing in my head with NWA playin’ for the soundtrack (NOTE: I totally need gansta rap to set the mood), I see Carl-E.

Yippy-skippy...
Here comes my knight in a shinny x5! He gives the officer the copy of the insurance card and verifies who I is, but then a little light goes off in my head and it flashing in bright yellow, neon tubing; GUN! GUN! The duce-duce and 45 were in his trunk, because we were supposed to go to the range, but instead we did yard work. While the officer is doing whatever she needs to do on her computer, another officer pulls up. Now, I am starting to feel really sick. Mean while, Carl-E keeps textin’ me, "Eat mints!" And, I am textin’ him “The guns! The guns!” And he texts, “I got it” And I text, “I feel sick” And he texts, “Eat mints!” I really thought I was going to lose it all over my new Vince sweater.

And then...
We are asked to get out of our cars. We are told that our tags are expired (NOTE: They are not because the little sticker says 'June 09'), that we do not have insurance (NOTE: The card Carl-E had had both our names for both cars and the expiration date said 'June 09'). Now, was I stuck in a flash forward? (NOTE: That's for all my Lost-ees), because last time I checked it was only January, I mean they both start with the letter “J” but one has way more letters. Instead of pointing out that she was WRONG-O, I let it go. You have to pick your battles, ya know?!

In the end…
We are both were handed tickets; I got two because I had no ID. So, we both have to go to court, were the tickets will be tossed out, because we were right and the coppers’s computer was misinformed. But the upside to all of this drama, I need to purchase a wallet for every bag so I’ll never forget my 411 again. Wait until Carl-E gets that bill!

“Ladies you can call it a fitness pole, but at the end of the day it is still a stripper pole.”

January 26: Creepy Factor

Happy Chinese New Year, Tators! It is the year of the Ox. If you were born in 1913, 1925, 1937, 1949, 1961, 1973, 1985, 1997 then you, speak little, and inspire confidence in others. You tend, however, to be eccentric, and bigoted, and you anger easily. You have fierce tempers and although you speak little, when you do you are quite eloquent. Ox people are mentally and physically alert. Generally easy-going, you can be remarkably stubborn, and hate to fail or be opposed. You are most compatible with Snake, Rooster, and Rat people.
So, sorry Oxens, I cannot play with you for I am a dog. Arf! Arf!

With that said...
G'Day Mates it's "National Australia Day" too! So, chat up your favorite bloke, grab a couple of Foster oil cans, and enjoy a bloomin' onion, some shrimp on the barbie, and a finish it all of with a chocolate thunder from down unda! No rules, just right!

Well...
Yesterday, my trigger finger was a itchin'. I wanted to go to the range really bad. I have not gone in a way-long time, so after my run I began to plant the seeds of a visit to the range. I figured that I would much more successful with this request than I was with the request for a new LV a couple of weeks ago; that was shot down faster than an ugly girl at the begining of a night at a bar.

While enjoying a yummy-in-my-tummy yogurt and a spicy but mellow cafe from Einsteins, I started droppin' subtle hints, such as "Hey let's go to the range today! and "You know what I would really like to do today, go to the range" But, Carl-E did not catch on, because he said, "Let's work in the backyard."

So...
An hour later, with a rake in hand, I am corralling old leaves into huge piles (NOTE: I did not have any large black bags, o the piles are still out there getting wetter and wetter with the rain). Carl-E was playin' Paul Bunyan and trimin' trees without the help of Babe. Thank goodness I had the company of those slamin' twins; Ying and Yang to help me overcome the boredom that was setting in from the manual labor. (NOTE: I do have a lawn guy; Glen. And, he is fabulous. And, we pay him. And, he normally does all the work we were doing. So why were we doing it? WHO THE HELL KNOWS! I'll have him pick up the pile; hee hee!)

Next...
I had the assignment of scrubin' the jacuzzi cabinet, and sweepin' the patio. After I completed my duites, I decided to go inside and get cleaned up, so I could go food shopin'. And doing so, I locked Carl-E out of the house. Now this was NOT done on purpose, maybe subconsciously because I really wanted to go to the range, but not on purpose.

While I was...
getting ready for my exciting exploration of the land of produce, Carl-E was frantically ringin' the door bell and knockin' on the door; none of this noise I hear. I was not ignorin' him, I just did not hear him. During his attempt to get in the house, our next door neighbor came over. I have spoke of Broke Back before. But, for those of you who do not know of him, let's have a recap, shall we?
He's does not play for the other team, but he loves shoes. Zappos is always delivering to his casa. He drives a Lamborghini that's very loud, very red, and very squashed looking, refers to women as broads, prefers bleach blonds over sneaky brunettes (NOTE: His words to me, and I am a brunette), does not Catholics because his ex-wife is one and they are sneaky (NOTE: That's two sneaky points for moi!), is from Jersey, and pretty much keeps to himself.

During the day...
BB always sits on his back porch, smokes cigars (NOTE: And other stuff!) and talks on his phone using speaker, because he works from home. Now twice a day, I go in the garage to feed Neptune, Saturn, and Biggin' Lily. And being the good mommy that I am, I talk in a baby voice to them, because we all know that cats understand baby-talk. We have full conversations about how handsome they are, how big they are getting, how much I love them, etc. etc. Anyone listing to me would think I am certified!

So...
Carl-E and Broke Back began to started to chat about our new neighbor (NOTE: She is 28, daddy is a big developer, he purchased the 1 million dollar home for her, and she put up a very high fence for security purposes because she is "someone" Her words to Broke Back while explaining the ridiculous fence). Next,they started talking about the kitties. BB told Carl-E that he likes having the babies around because they keep the rodents away. And then he said, that the cats would not come to him. Carl-E said that they only come to me. And then my neighbor says, "I can hear her talking to the cats and it must be her sweet voice."

Now...
I know I do not have a sweet voice, because if I did I would be making serious bank singin' "Tightrope" (NOTE: You have to watch "The Real Atlanta Housewives" to understand). And the only time my voice sounds even remotely sounded anything but loud and brass, was after a heavy night of partying and smoking, and then I got that sexy, whiskey, Kathleen Turner voice.

So...
When Carl-E told me all of this I began to fell icky, icky, and icky! He said I was being crazy and I should be flattered that someone liked my voice. I asked him what that was supposed to mean, and he just went in the house. Do you think he was trying to get me back for lockin' him out of the house?

Ok, I could not fit this def in my story because I have none of these, but for all the Baby's mamas, you will get a chuckle out of this. Actually, everyone will get a snicker:

Baby Goggles

A phenomenon where the parents of an ugly baby think their baby is adorable and no one else does.

Nancy: Here's our little bundle of joy! Isn't she just the cutest thing ever?!?
Lisa & Kate (after one look at Nancy's ugly baby): Ohhhh...! Yessss....
Lisa to Kate: I think Nancy has baby goggles - that's got to be the ugliest baby I've ever seen!