For Andy, and for all future generations

For once I did a search on the internet and came up with NOTHING.  I mean absolutely, positively, no results for what I was searching for.   That just isn't right.   I felt it was my duty as a contributing member of society that this did not go on any further.

So for future generations never again shall you come up empty handed when searching for "giraffe holding leaning tower of pisa".

You're welcome.

Frockles are sweeping the nation!

I've got frockles on the brain.  Frockles are what Andy calls the cluster of feckles on his legs that look like socks.  I don't know why the word popped in my brain this afternoon while I was walking around the mall at lunch, but there it was.

"Frockles."

"Shut up brain, I'm trying to walk here."

"Frockles."

"Seriously, I'm going to run into something."

"Frockles frockles frockles frockles."

"Ouch! See? Told you. Now shut up about the frockles."

".........."

".........."

".........."

"....froooooockles!"

I just did a two page Google search (does one ever need to search past the 2nd page?) to verify that 'frockles' is a new word invented by Andy. I might have to update the Urban Dictionary with it to lay claim and then I will be famous. I would give credit to Andy for my famous-ness but he wouldn't be assed updating the Urban Dictionary so I have full right to steal it. I will be the Frockles Queen. Behold my Frockles Empire! As far as the eye can see there will be hipsters wearing frockle socks in homage to me (note that the hipsters will have to wear actual socks with freckles painted on them as they wouldn't have the proper DNA - a.k.a. skin tone - to have real frockles). Every May 10th the world will celebrate Annual Frockle Day(the largest celebration being in Ireland for obvious reasons)where everyone eats pie and has 'count the frockles' contests. Mayor McCheese will officiate the Frockles Festival as he was the first famous person to pop in my brain right now. Fan-frockle-tastic!

 "Those are some mighty fine frockles you have there m'dear.  May I touch them?"

Sadly, this is actually quite true...

World Cup Weekend 1 in Pictures (oh joy!)

So I have a crapload of photos from this past weekend but not a lot of verbiage.  There isn't that much to say, really, except that I hardly got any sleep and I drank a whole bunch without getting messy.

My intentions on Saturday was to let Andy slip out of the house silently at 4:30 AM while I blissfully dreamed my early morning away, eventually meeting up with him at 7 AM.  Sadly I'm a light sleeper and while Andy was as quiet as I've ever known a man in the early morning to be, I woke up at 3:30 AM to him brushing his teeth. I was never able to fall back to sleep, as much as I did try.  I refused to go to the pub any earlier than I originally planned so I simply groaned in tiredness on the couch until it was time to get ready.

Surprisingly (to me) by the time I got to the Harp, it was already quite busy.  Andy even failed to get our regular table in time.  By 7 AM though, he had made friends with all the surrounding tables, including a table of drunken Koreans who had stayed up all the previous night to make sure they caught the 4:30 AM Korea vs. Greece match.  They were hammered, and funny, and obnoxious, and were doing shots as soon as the bar started serving at 6 AM, and one of the girls threw up in the bathroom, and it was all a lot of stimulation (and smells) to take in that early in the morning.

Around 9 AM, more of our friends showed up taking the last of the patio seats.  It was all standing room only after that and scarcely so.  By 10:30 AM, the Harp was packed - three times over capacity, with a line, K-EARTH 101 set up outside, beer being sloshed and spilled, shots being done, toes being stepped on, the US National Anthem being sung - all for the 11:30 AM match USA vs. England.

 Standing room only (if you can even call it "room") during the match.

There was a line out the door.  None of these people got in as no one was leaving.

Thankfully we were tucked in a corner where we could actually sit down.  I suppose it didn't matter since this 10 foot tall guy with a big Grizzly Adams beard ended up standing in front of us so we had to stand to see.

We are absolutely shocked how the waitress managed to navigate through the bar with 10 drinks on her tray at a time.  She was well tipped.

For once, our local Johnny Foreigners were the minority in the bar.

This was after the match when there was finally room to stretch out again.

This is our new friend, Jeremy.  Jeremy got drunk rather quickly and ended up buying round after round of shots for anyone and everyone that was in his general vicinity.  We had a $1.00 in bet between us how much Jeremy's tab would be by the end.  Andy won by guessing $400 (before tip).

Fergie and Bishy show off their rip off England jerseys, complete with ligers instead of the proper lions.

Things might have gotten a bit messy at this point.

A picture of Mari enjoying the chaos.

 Fergie, Me, Chris, Nigel, and Frenchman who's name I have forgotten.  Maybe I was a bit messy.

Jill and Dave conveniently show up after all the matches are finished.  Smart people, those two.

I think this was taken at about 4 PM.  I might be smiling but I'm wondering what is an acceptable time to go to bed without seeming like a nancy.

Davey Davey, Fergie, and Andy.  Fergie is still showing off those ligers.

When Nigel saw this he said, "I remembered his head tasted sort of salty."

"It's seriously time to take me home."

"OK"

Around 4:30 PM, Andy and I went with Dave and Jill to El Matador for dinner.  This was a huge mistake on my part as beef enchiladas taste really good going down, they don't taste that great coming back up.  When I talked to Kristie the next day she stated, "yeah, drinking and El Matador don't mix - it's like cement in your stomach." That is completely true as cement is exactly what seemed like was shooting out of my mouth later on that night.   

Andy and I did manage to fall asleep at 7:30 PM on Saturday night, but I was awake again at midnight and couldn't fall asleep until 1:30 AM.  Of course at 3 AM, Chloe (stupid cat stupid cat stupid cat) decided it was the perfect time to get in a heated cat fight with another cat that was in our garden even though there was a large piece of glass between them.  Andy decided to get up at this point as well so there was no point in trying to sleep anymore, so we headed to the pub at 4 AM to watch the Slovenia vs. Algeria match.  

My intent was that after the Slovenia game I would go home and take a nap, but after the game, the next game started and I thought, "OK, I'll just watch this match and go home and sleep."  Except for after that match our friends started showing up for the Germany vs. Australia match and I decided that there was really no point in going home anymore.  All in all we put in a 12 hour shift at the pub and we forced ourselves to stay awake until 8 PM so we didn't end up waking up too early for work.   Not that I was able to sleep.  When I force myself to stay awake so long I have a hard time shutting down.  Of course Andy woke up AGAIN this morning at 4 AM to watch the Netherlands vs. Denmark match.  I'm so tired people.  There aren't enough words on this planet to describe my tiredness.   The World Cup is going to kill me.

 If you were wondering what 4:30 AM looks like, here it is.  It's not pretty.

Slovenian Dance

I seriously have to learn how to do this fantastic Slovenian "we just scored a goal" football dance.  Just think of the hit I'd be at parties.

My own photos from the weekend will be up soon.  If I can finally open my eyes up long enough to post them.

Why I won't see Andy until July

When the alarm went off at 6:15 this morning, Andy jumped out of bed and exclaimed in his too loud for 6:15 AM voice, “Everyone get up! It’s fucking World Cup Day, bitches!” Before you imagine that we have the English Premier Soccer team sleeping in bed with us, Andy was speaking to just myself and the cat, both of whom looked at Andy with the type of furrowed brow expression that comes from being exclaimed at too early in the morning.

Andy has been “It’s my birthday! Its Christmas morning! It’s the last day of school! We’re going to the zoo today!” excited for the World Cup for about 3 months now. Many of our plans for June revolved around the World Cup schedule. Andy has even worked out a ‘flexi-time’ work schedule with his boss so he can catch the week day games. Unfortunately for Andy though, my birthday – and therefore my Official Birthday Weekend – falls smack dab in the 2nd round of World Cup, a fact that he is none too happy about. In fact he mentioned when he found out, “it’s an oversight on my part. I should have realized your birthday was in June before I married you.” He was kidding of course, or at least I hope he was, and he is still planning on taking me somewhere (it’s a surprise he’s managed to keep from me) with the stipulation that he can catch at least a couple of the matches. I’m not a cruel woman, I agreed – with the stipulation that I am not expected to get up early on my birthday weekend to watch these matches with him.

Speaking of getting up early – you know what time the first game starts on the West Coast? 4:30 AM. FOUR. THIRTY. A. M. Seeing as Andy wants to see as many games as possible of the World Cup, guess what time he is waking up both Saturday and Sunday this weekend? I wholly plan on getting my sleep on Saturday but will grudgingly get up at the ass crack of dawn (is it even considered ‘dawn’ at 4:30 AM?) on Sunday to see the Slovenia vs. Algeria match. I’m not sure why though. I don’t really like soccer. Oh, sorry sweetheart, football. I don’t really like sports in general. I mean, I like hockey. And I’ve been watching the Green Bay Packers play the last few years because I miss Wisconsin (especially in the fall), but all other sports? Nah. But that’s what I get for marrying outside my accent.

In an effort to get myself into something that I don’t really care too much about, I put some money down on Davey Davey’s World Cup pool. Nothing gets me involved faster in something like good ole fashioned gambling. By luck, I drew Brazil (which I hear is good) and Slovakia (which I hear is bad). Andy, as an early birthday present, got me Slovenia (for obvious reasons). I’m really rooting for Slovenia - somebody has to you know. Which is why I’m getting up at 4:30 AM on Sunday morning to watch football; I have to make sure my investments are paying off. And what I mean by ‘investments’ is actually ‘betting money that I will never see again’.

It’s fucking World Cup, bitches. While my dear, sweet, husband will be spending all of June doing this:

Andy puts away his difference to Froggies during the World Cup - as long as they buy him a pint and promise not to talk about mimes.

I will be stuck here, doing this:

But it's World Cup, bitches!

The Lewd Cat

I'm still battling my sickness (I can hear Beth's voice in my head disapprovingly saying, "but you're ALWAYS sick") so my head isn't around the blog post that I wanted to give you today. Sorry. In my absence of a regular post, here is a lewd cat.



Sometimes I think I just post so Patrick can squeal.

Buster Brown

I would like to introduce you to someone….or thing, really. This here is my car, Buster Brown, a 2004 Nissan Sentra 1.8s.

As of May 30th, 2010 Buster Brown is officially all mine. I made the last of 5 years of payments on him. Owning Buster Brown outright has got me incredibly excited but it’s that kind of excitement that isn’t transferable. I spent a good deal of last weekend exclaiming, “I paid off my car!” and although my friends are lovely and feigned joy for my benefit you could tell they couldn’t really give a damn. And why would they? It’s a personal victory over creditors. It’s not like I ran a marathon or won a Betty Crocker baking contest - I simply remembered to give HSBC a check every month for 5 years.

I know Buster Brown doesn’t look like much. Truth be told, I really didn’t like him when I first got him but for selfish reasons. I wanted a Rav4 – a blue Rav4 to be exact – but I couldn’t afford one. I needed a car badly as my Ford Ranger, Willy, had just about enough of driving me about. I got Buster Brown because he was cheap and reliable and had air conditioning (seriously, you drive around for 5 years in a truck without A\C – sometimes in the middle of the desert in July- and tell me how important it is to you).

But I didn’t like Buster. I cursed at Buster a lot, blaming him for all the flat tires he got (when really it was my habit of running over unforeseen nails in the driveway), kicking him for a dead battery, calling him a lemon when his recalled oxygen sensor went. But Buster stood by me through all my abuse and reckless driving. He has never once failed to start. He likes to play music loud too. He’s not so bad, my Buster Brown.

For example, he can go from 0 to 60 with the air conditioning on in a minute and 23 seconds!

He has this really fancy, gets dirty easily, unable to wipe the dirt off even with the strongest solvents, leather steering wheel!

He has a sunroof! But don’t open it because if you try to close it, the sunroof won’t sit right back in the tracks and will create a really awful whistling noise while on the freeway.

He has not only one, but TWO cup holders!

WOW!

He has an AUX jack to play your iPod through the stereo! Actually, that’s pretty cool.

His power of invisibility! Because of his beige, similar to the color of the actual roads in California, he's practically invisible to other drivers who will attempt at all costs to run into you while changing lanes on the freeway!  It's like being Wonder Woman!

It's like this, but with less tights and cool knee high boots.

He has this handy tray thing on the dash to store all your golf balls even though you don’t actually play golf!

After 5 years, Buster Brown has grown on me. And now I am fully responsible for him and his well being. I might have to change my policy of getting an oil change every 6 months\6.000 miles. I might have to slow down a bit. I might have to avoid stretching the limits on my stereo speakers. Maybe I’ll look a bit more carefully when backing out of parking spots so I don’t scrape any more paint off the bumper. Maybe I’ll wash him more than twice a year.

Nah, he wouldn’t recognize me if I did that.

Inside is where it's at

So I’m going to come right out and say this. I am not a “nature person”. I spent a great deal of my life denying this personality trait of mine but I finally have to bone up and admit it. I don’t like hanging around outside. I don’t. It’s certainly not from a lack of effort on my father’s part growing up. He was constantly taking us camping, swimming, biking, hiking and a bunch of other –ing activities. I hated every minute of it. I’m more like my mom in that way. I like inside. Inside is nice and climate controlled. Inside has TV and other cool things that you plug in.

I’ve been this way since I was young. When I was a kid I was sent outside after school. I know this was an effort to get me out of my mom’s hair. I found it unbearably boring. I went to private school so I didn’t actually live around any of my school friends. The few kids in my neighborhood generally kept to themselves. While most kids went outside and played on the playground or did kick ball or whatever it is that kids do when they are outside, I would go to the library. I could honestly say I knew more librarians by their first names than I knew kids by my house. I just didn’t like outside.

Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate nature. After a long winter in Wisconsin a day at the park can be quite pleasant. I prefer to sit outside when I’m at the pub on a nice day. It’s magnificent and gorgeous to view from the inside of an automobile driving through the mountains or the deserts of Arizona. Do I want to get out of the car and walk around in it? No. No, I don’t. You know why? Let me lay it out for you:

• Bugs. There are many many bugs in nature. And unlike when a bug crawls into your home, you aren’t allowed to kill the bugs using the excuse of, “this is my home and bugs aren’t allowed to reside here. Die you evil creepy crawly bastard!” When you are in nature, you are in the bugs’ home. They are allowed to bother you and buzz in your ear and make attempts to steal your sandwich. Bastards.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mosquitoes will steal your baby. 
• It’s too hot\cold\windy\wet. Ever wonder why not many people live in the desert or high mountains or in jungles or in the deep forest? It’s inhabitable- unless you’re Grizzly Adams, a hippie, a monkey or a sheik (or any combination thereof). There should be no reason in the world I should feel the need to shower after running down the driveway to get my mail – which I’m sure I would if I lived in any one of these “nature” areas – if I even got mail!  

• Big Toothy Animals. Bears. Mountain Lions. Cougars. Panthers. Coyotes. Snakes. Hyenas. Boars. Tigers. Rhinos. Hippos. Badgers. Mosquitoes. Need I go on?

• Dead Bodies. Nobody ever finds dead bodies picking up ointment at Walgreens. Joggers find bodies. Hikers find bodies. Hunters find bodies. Campers find bodies. Finding a dead body in nature isn’t like seeing a dead body at a funeral where they are all in their nice clothes with their hair and make-up done. Dead bodies found in nature normally did not parish due to ‘natural causes’. Dead bodies in nature could be in any state – naked, dismembered, half-eaten, rotting. I seriously cannot take that risk. I watch “How Clean Is Your House?” and get nauseous.

Seriously, this is disgusting.

With all this said, I don’t actually mind going for a short 2 day camping trip. Well, as long as I don’t have to hike to the campsite, and as long as there are flush toilets, and plenty of beer and bug spray, and you don’t make me go for long walks, and someone remembers to bring a radio, and the place is confirmed to have a distinct absence of dead bodies.