Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Allowing gays to marry in five states obviously made Governor Sanford cheat on his wife.
We should be ashamed.
How dare we strip him of his right to preach about the sanctity of marriage?
Especially after he spent so much of his valuable time NOT hiking the Appalachian trial so he could argue that even offering civil unions would destroy the very foundation of marriage.
He gave fair warning.
He's lost everything because of us. Even his invitation to speak at the 2009 Values Voter Summit was rescinded.
For gosh sakes, Sanford's name was in the mix for potential presidential candidacy and now, no one seems to know his name.
It's just not right, the power our love has to ruin lives.
We gays should really think about the dangers of committing ourselves to each other before we go and ruin the lives of any more politicians or religious leaders.
I beg of you. Think about it.
Especially because it gets worse.
There's always been a very valid fear that if the government allows same-sex couples to marry, the floodgates will open and we will also argue marrying farm animals should be legal.
I don't call April "Apes" for nothin'.
But Ben & Jerry's have taken it further than marrying farm animals.
I mean, they totally crossed the line of acceptable and I don't know that we'll ever be able to bring this country back to the right side of morality.
Behold, this ad in the New Orlean's weekend paper:
It's a total abomination.
And it needs to GET IN MY BELLY!
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Pics and video soon.
Am losing my voice, screaming for USA to smoke Brazil in the Confederation Cup. Hoping I get to see the whole game before heading out to the airport.
I smell victory!
..As soon as I typed that sentence, Brazil scored. Dammit.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Friday, June 26, 2009
While she does have a nasty-horrible-icky-poo-poo bruise that may take months to fully heal, she was cleared medically of any internal bleeding, etc.
I plan on keeping that woman around for a long time - I may have to begin limiting her extra curricular activities...
Thanks for all your concern - both Apes and I appreciate it greatly. For reals.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Thursday, June 25, 2009
She's managed to escape my wrath and I've put my plans for prank-retaliation on hold.
How did she manage such a feat?
By being so very NOT lucky last night during one of our co-ed softball games.
Bless her heart.
She was acting as 3rd base coach when a male outfielder hurled the softball toward the infield.
The 3rd baseman missed the throw.
April's stomach caught it.
She doubled over, but refused to let the pain, or the immediate bruising get the best of her. She completed the last game and actually turned the ball for a double-out, sending the guy who nailed her with ball back to the bench.
Here's what her injury looked like last night:
After eight hours of ice and a fitful sleep, here's how our bruiser looked this morning:
All together now. OW OW OW OW OW OW.
I can't even look at it without screaming and squinting my eyes.
April isn't the only family member of ours that's had to be a trooper today.
Our big dawg, Stewart, has been licking his left paw so much that he's managed to get an infection.
He wouldn't put any weight on the foot a few days ago, so we put his e-collar on him in an attempt to allow it to heal.
So today, I loaded him up and took him to the vet.
Here's "bucket head" before he had to be sedated so our vet could check out his foot:
Here's "bucket head" so strung out and wobbly that I had to help him up on the couch:
I can't take it. He's so loopy he even let Rosie, our other dog, take a bone from him without maiming her or knocking her other eye out.
While I waited for Stewart, I hit up PetsMart. It's the only place I can go to get my kitten/cat fix since April is so allergic.
One crate had five kittens. I melted on the spot.
This one thought she was Spider-Cat and scaled the crate to get to me:
I took several (crappy quality) videos with my cell phone. Unless you are a serious cat lover, you probably won't want to squint and suffer through these three :30 second videos.
However, if you love critters like I do, it'll make you smile.
I spent so much time bonding with the kittens, they didn't want to let me go.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
For the many who've already read Snake Eyes and managed to laugh in the face of my trauma, and for the handful who expressed sincere icked-out-ness on my behalf, please proceed so that you may learn the type of woman Apes REALLY is.
This morning, I opened my refrigerator.
Here's what I saw:
Point #1: Yes, I realize there is Diet Pepsi, not Diet Coke in my fridge. It happens, on the rare occasion. Don't judge me.
Point #2: Apes, the person ya'll think is a saint for putting up with me and who can do no wrong, PUT A FRICKEN FAKE SNAKE in the fridge!
There I was, busy on my cell phone, not paying any attention as I reached in to grab the two-liter.
Instead, I grab something else, which at the time was wrapped AROUND the two-liter.
This time I didn't scream like a girl. I cursed like a sailor.
I immediately dialed Apes who let several "proud laughs" escape.
A "proud laugh" is something Apes does when she thinks she's done something noteworthy and slick.
She proceeded to tell me she had a time trying to figure out the best place to put the decoy.
Apparently it's been on my keyboard and in the shower before coming to it's final resting place on my two-liter.
And you thought you knew her....
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
The A-frame house sat nestled back from the huge expanse of water. A dock, just down from the house, offered a canoe, a kayak and even a paddle boat.
As the eight of us descended on the property, bringing a beer pong table, enough groceries for a month, and beer and sangria for a year, I never once thought of the term "snake eyes."
I mean, not as they relate to actual SNAKES.
Dice, perhaps. Snakes, no.
Not even one time.
Pat, Jodie, Carrie, Lanie and I were floating around in the lake, both grateful for the sun and dismayed at how parched our throats had become.
Jodie happened to be paddling around in the kayak and suggested we bring a cooler down from the house and use her (and the kayak) as our bar.
I offered to head back up to the house and grab the cooler and adult beverages.
There was a dock, but not one to use to get in and out of the water. Instead, to exit the lake, you had to swim up to the house, where the water was shallow, and step on a bunch of submerged rocks in order to climb out of the lake.
I scrambled out onto the grass, headed up the hill to the house, dried off, got our red cooler, filled it with ice cubes and samples of every kind of beer we brought.
I threw the cooler strap over my shoulder, walked back down to the lake, and yelled at Jodie to paddle the kayak over to the rocks where I could hand her the cooler and hop back in the water.
She saddled the kayak right next to the rocks and then said, "Whoa!"
"What?" I asked, training my eyes in the direction she was staring.
I didn't see anything and she didn't answer my question.
Focused on the water, she took a moment to answer me. "I think I saw a snake in the rocks."
I stared at the water as if I had laser-eyes with heat-seeking-snake-finding missiles. I didn't see anything.
"You sure you saw a snake?" I asked, trying to play it cool. I mean, I actually like snakes if I know they won't hurt me. In fact, one of my college dorm mates had a garden snake named Wellington and I snake-sat him all the time. Took him out and let him hang out on my neck as I studied.
"I think so, but I'm sure he's gone now," Jodie said, hitting the water with a paddle.
I could have turned back at this point. Marched right back to the house, cracked a beer, and napped with Apes.
But I wanted a tan, damn it.
In an attempt to get as far away as possible from where Jodie saw the snake, I jumped to the extreme left of where she was hitting the water with her paddle.
Just as I came up from my jump, so did THE FUCKING SNAKE.
Nearly two inches of it's body broke the water's surface. Less than six inches from my face.
I was close enough to the snake to see it's EYEBALLS.
A blood curdling scream escaped my mouth and I walked on water, ya'll. Seriously, I don't think my feet touched anything until I was safely back on the grass.
My heart was pounding so fast I could literally SEE IT.
I made so much noise April came running out to find out what was going on.
Thankfully Jodie saw the snake, the size and the proximity to me - otherwise I don't know if anyone would have believed my outburst was warranted. Apparently, I looked as if I were having multiple seizures as I extricated myself from the lake.
To me (and to Jodie), the snake looked exactly like this:
Scared the ever-loving shit out of me.
After several minutes of deep breaths and paddle-smacking on the behalf of Jodie, I proved myself crazy and got back in the water.
Yes I did.
Never underestimate a girl's need for some color.
However, my re-entry was more calculated. I hurled myself an Olympic distance from the shoreline and quickly propelled myself to damn near the center of the lake, trusting everyone else's assurances that snakes hang close to the water's edge.
I'm not going to lie, though. My hands and feet didn't dangle effortlessly off my raft as they had prior to my snake encounter.
I also suffered a bit from post traumatic stress disorder. I nearly came unglued when a leaf danced by my float.
Getting back out of the water after tanning was a wee bit stressful. I couldn't figure out any way to hurl my body directly onto land, so I painstakingly picked a spot, closed my eyes, and made a run for it.
Safe and sound on the ground, I allowed myself to relax and headed into the house for a shower.
Moments after exiting the shower, someone yelled for me.
"What do you mean someone's at the door for me?" I hollered back upstairs.
I got dressed, took the steps two-by-two, let myself out onto the deck, only to find:
"FUNNY," I yelled over my shoulder as I made beeline for the back door.
I'm never going to live down screaming like a girl.
Friday, June 19, 2009
I hate when the anecdotal part of my brain goes limp. It's bad for blogging business.
This morning's chain of events leads me to believe my ENTIRE brain is on break.
My friend Tara (from Knoxville) spent the night with us last night and this morning, before taking her to the train station, I took her to our new favorite hangout, The University Cafe.
I parked on a side street and Tara pointed out a handwritten sign that read:
"Construction Parking. Mon-Fri. 8am - 5pm."
"I see it." I said, pulling my car right up in front of the sign. "We should be okay."
We hopped out of the car and a member of the construction crew looked at me as if he hoped a 2x4 would crush my skull.
"What the hell is his problem?" I said, glaring back at him.
We proceeded to the restaurant, ate breakfast, returned to my car (which I checked for debris and flat tires), and headed to the train station.
About halfway there, I realized...Today is FRIDAY, not SATURDAY.
"Um, no WONDER he was staring at me! I saw the sign but truly thought it was Saturday and that the sign didn't apply today!"
"Well, I wondered what you were doing," said Tara. "I figured you just didn't care."
"I can be a bitch - but I'm not a BLATANT bitch! I totally deserved his wrath."
I then explained to Tara my fear I was becoming "that" girl. The completely flighty girl.
I cited not being able to figure out the tip on last night's dinner bill.
Tara disagreed, arguing she thinks that I care about certain things a great deal and the rest I simply ignore.
Like the One-Way road sign near the train station.
I nearly killed us.
See. My brain is on break.
Thankfully for most of you, there's no chance of me killing you.
Tara was lucky to escape with her life....
ps...Apes and I are heading to Lake Anna with some pals, so I'll see you Monday!
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
That being said, I will post something, regardless of it's cinematic merit, simply to prove all the pain and suffering was worth it. Stay tuned.
In other news, I need to know if anyone else, besides my dear Apes, is mixed up about Sprite.
How do YOU say it?
She called me today and asked me to bring some Diet Spry-ut to her office.
"I'm not familiar with that beverage," I said, cradling the phone to my ear.
"I'll bring it."
If Sprite's marketing department is hiring for a hillbilly version of it's popular beverage, I think Apes has a wicked good shot at the job...
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
I have the pictures and video to prove it.
I'm working on editing it all together, video-style, and will post as soon as it doesn't suck too bad...I'm learning I-movie as I go...
Hope ya'll had a great weekend!
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
In other news, we just discovered major water damage in April's mom's house and we're now in the process of clearing out the basement so we can take the ceiling tiles out...they are sagging under the weight of so much water.
Good thing I know nuthin' about plumbing....
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Thursday, June 11, 2009
My cousin Emily is getting hitched (I can't believe it...seems like only yesterday I was in middle school and she was in diapers).
We'll be blogging from the road, via my Blackberry (*addicted, raises hand*) AND I am going to try my hand at video taping the weekend...
I'm gonna get me lots of footage so I can practice my video editing skills on our Apple.
Plus, I owe several of you an interview with Apes and she's dying to tell you "the real truth."
We'll be spending the night with April's mom and Mamaw, so you KNOW I'll have some great material.
Here we go!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
They attacked completely without warning and suggested: I not get out of bed, bury my head under the covers and spend my time listening to the familiar DUH-DUH of a Law and Order television marathon.
I suspect several culprits are to blame for my Blahs:
The job hunt gets me down every once in a while. I need to work. Have a purpose. Make money (my Diet Coke habit is wicked expensive).
I can't find my favorite book (Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl).
I have a sucky singing voice (this always comes up when I have the blahs because I'm reminded my dream of being a rock star isn't going to happen).
The only vegetable left in my fridge is cauliflower and I hate cauliflower. Apes put the kabosh on buying more groceries until we eat what we have. This alone has the power to send me into a tailspin.
There's a pimple on my jaw that apparently signed a one year lease.
My People magazine subscription is ending (HORROR).
Mash all them culprits up in a big, fat BLAH bowl and you have an idea of what yesterday was like for me.
Thankfully, today looks a little brighter.
I still have a jaw-pimple, only one more issue of People magazine and the cauliflower still mocks me every time I open my fridge, but:
I just applied for a job I think would be PERFECT for me. Keep your fingers crossed!
I received confirmation I'll be part of the Whirlpool Building Blocks event again this year!
I had the energy to work out and even though I swore like a sailor during all three of my squat sets (thank you animated ACTIVE trainer), I remembered my friend Nick and said a quick prayer of thanks for the ability to move my limbs.
There's a voice mail on my phone from Apes telling me she loves me and she can't wait to see me when she gets home.
Take that, Blahs. Yesterday you had me. Today, you lose.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
On the list:
10 tiny vases
10 fat roses
A cake (she asked me not to bake it. My feelings would be hurt if I wasn't known for ruining perfectly good cakes)
She'd also like me to:
Create an Ipod playlist (She provided a detailed song list, including notes re: which songs we already have, lest I make a repeat purchase - THE HORROR)
Review/edit her speech
And if I have time:
Do the laundry
Pick up the house
Clean out my car
Bag the pine needles
Super House Wench...Reporting for Duty...(you should see my cape. It rocks)...
ps - I don't really have time to blog, but I felt like I needed to blog to explain why I don't have time to blog. Plus, I start to shake when I miss a day....
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Friday, June 5, 2009
No power meant no So You Think You Can Dance.
No power meant no Tivo to record So You Think You Can Dance.
No power meant no computer.
No power meant no Wii.
No power meant no oven, microwave or stove.
"Dear God, Apes," I said, flipping light switches, willing the electricity to come back on. "This is it. The end of the world as we know it. Have I mentioned I'm missing So You Think You Can Dance? Cruel storm. Cruel world."
Apes smiled at me, in a way that screamed, "It's a good thing I love you because I'm not sure anyone else would."
I smiled back, in a way that conceded, "no shit."
Apes began taking care of the puppies while I trolled the house, collecting candles and hauling them upstairs.
After reflecting on the evening, here's what no power ACTUALLY meant:
No power meant a game of Othello by candle light.
No power meant watching Apes read, holding a candle next to the page, a soft glow flickering across the typed words, dancing near her face.
No power meant truly being present, lying on our backs, holding hands, as thunder crashed above our heads and rain drops sought cover in the warmth of our room, entering through an open window.
No power meant a night of conversation, not half-hearted "uh-huhs" during commercial breaks or book chapters.
No power didn't rob me of anything.
No power GAVE me a gift.
No power gave me April and reminded me of all the reasons I love her.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
She even sent April's nephew, Josh, a care package during his last tour.
The demand for her care packages continues to grow, and for her to keep up, she needs help.
To read about her quest, and to see how you can help, click HERE. Thanks!
Today is Mamaw's (April's grandmother) birthday!
In honor of her big day, I'm linking to many of the posts I've written about her. Enjoy!
Mamaw's Bathroom Humor
This One's For You, Mamaw
She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy
Mow Trouble, Mow Trouble
Shocking, I know. But it's the truth.
Today, it's about some folks I've already introduced you to.
I think you'll remember....CONNOR and KAYLEE...the adorable twin-offspring of our friends Heidi and Teri.
These adorable babies are contestants in a radio station contest, dubbed WMZQutie and voting begins TODAY!
Now, I believe ALL babies are adorable, but Connor and Kaylee are the MOST adorable.
There. I said it. It's true.
You can vote once (PER EMAIL) and although you have to register your email first (sorry), it IS for a good cause.
Well, if either of the twins win, the family gets to meet Rascal Flatts. That's cool, but not the good cause.
The family ALSO wins a brand new Wii - WHICH, Heidi and Terri will be donating to the person who helps them get the most votes.
If that's ME, with your help, Apes and I will donate the Wii to the therapeutic school where Apes works as assistant director and counselor.
So, whaddya say? Can you spare a second to register your email and VOTE?
To vote for Kaylee, click HERE. (You'll see a link to register your email when you click on the link).
For Connor, click HERE. (You'll see a link to register your email when you click on the link).
I feel comfortable speaking on behalf of Kaylee and Connor - if they win, lots of slobber and hair pulling are coming your way.
You know, as a thanks...baby style.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
I wish I could say I put her mind at ease, but I'm certain she hung up the phone after our conversation and ran from her house screaming.
I was six, and the only child, when my brother Brett was born.
Not. A. Good. Scene.
I mean, sure, when the baby was a big ball in my mother's belly, I was excited.
Who didn't want a REAL doll to play with?
The day my sibling was born was the day I learned things aren't always what they seem.
I'd been duped.
That baby wasn't a GIRL! It was supposed to be a GIRL! The doctor said so.
She even had a name.
Initially traumatized, I became mute, refusing to accept I had a brother.
Until I saw him. I buckled and couldn't stay away.
That first week, I stared at him a lot. Held him while my parents took pictures. Even tried to feed him.
Trouble started in week two.
That's when I learned there had been a shift in our household.
No longer was everything about me...it was about "the baby."
Everyone who called wanted to know about "the baby."
Whenever we went to the store, people oogled "the baby."
Gifts poured in, for "the baby."
I'm not proud of it, but there are two memories that will forever live on in my family's history that illustrate just how badly I took to not being "the baby."
Apparently, at the time Brett was born, I had mad love for my mother's boss as he always made me feel like a princess whenever I visited the office.
Unfortunately for him, I was with my mother the day she debuted Brett to the office.
People who once couldn't wait to entertain me, forgot I was there.
Even her boss.
He immediately headed over to "the baby" and left me fuming in the corner.
I did what any hurt six-year-old would do.
I walked right over to him and kicked him in the shins.
Yes I did.
Before I explain my actions, you should know Brett did not get hurt.
He didn't even know he'd been shut in a closet.
In my mind, no harm no foul.
Brett was old enough to be in one of those walker things and he'd fallen asleep in the living room.
My mom left to go to the bathroom and I had a genius idea.
I knew how to get my mom to play with me, something she hadn't done in weeks.
I rolled my sleeping brother into the hallway closet and shut the door.
I ran back into the living room and hurled myself onto the couch, anxiously waiting for my mom to come back.
When she returned, I watched her scan the room and whip around to face me.
"WHERE IS YOUR BROTHER?!" She was screaming.
I explained he was okay and that I wanted to play a game.
Here's where I'd caution any child that it's not in your best interest to suggest a game of "Hot and Cold" when your mother is ready to rip your head off.
Let's just say Brett nearly became an only child.
Eventually, Brett grew up enough to string a sentence together and join me on the playground, which helped our relationship immensely.
But that first year was definitely an adjustment, particularly since I'd been the only kid for six years.
Good thing is, now there's lots of psychology about how to make sure older children don't feel left out of the loop.
I told my friend to read up on how other couples have managed this situation and left her with one last piece of advice...
"If you can't find 'the baby', look in the hall closet."