From a Thursday Point of View

Nothin' matters but the weekend.

Y'all, Roadchick is tired. Too much work, not enough time off. She's workin' for the weekend - waiting for it to be finally Friday.

No stories, Patient Reader. Unless you want to hear about Roadchick knitting and passing out into a 9 hour sleep each night for the past 3 nights. No? Roadchick does not blame you.

She does, however, crave sleep like a "BLT on fresh French bread" (Merci Beaucoup, mes amis Ya-Yas!)

She'll be back soon, and hopefully with a story to tell. In the meantime, keep the shiny side up and the grimy side down.

10-4

I've Got All My Sisters With Me

Roadchick has had a very busy, very interesting weekend. Let's rewind, shall we?

Friday night, Roadchick went to her best friend's house to hang out for awhile. She was figuring on playing some cards and not much else. But, it was not to be. Best friend's stepdaughter was needing a ride to the other side of creation so Roadchick went along for the ride. Little did she know that on the way back, she would be treated to the East Side Tour.

What is the East Side Tour, you ask? It is a personally guided tour of the East Side of Nashville, led by none other than Best Friend's Husband. The exact details of the tour have escaped her at the moment, but Roadchick does remember there being something about the locations of various donut shops and other assorted establishments that one cannot live without. But, y'all, Roadchick could not hang. It was 10:00 and Roadchick was yawning like a toddler up past her bedtime. She headed home.

The next day dawned with a phonecall from a friend of Roadchick calling her to talk. At 7:15. In the morning. Now, to be fair to the friend, where he was, it was an hour later. And he had been up for several hours because he drives a truck. And he was bored. And returning Roadchick's call from the day before. So she talked to him until the first cup of coffee was consumed and then...got ready to go to Target.

No, Patient Reader, she did NOT go to Target on Friday like she said. She believes in shopping under pressure. So, to Target she went. And snagged baby gear and a gift bag. And a killer pair of shoes. And all the various stuff that she managed to run out of in the 8 weeks since she last shopped. Like shampoo. And lotion. No, she has not gone without bathing, but she did have to break into the travel stash to get her over the hump. So, Roadchick is now re-stocked and ready to go.

The baby shower. Oy vey. Did Roadchick mention that she HATES baby showers? Well, she does. But she went. And was forced to wear a nametag made out of a blue napkin folded into a diaper shape. With her name on it, obviously. Only to find out that it was part of a party game. When the moment arrived, everyone had to take off their nametags and unfold them to see if . . .it was a dirty diaper. Because if it was, the lucky (unlucky?) participant won a door prize. Roadchick did not win. Roadchick is not disappointed. After the gift opening, Roadchick bailed. And headed for Nashville.

Back to Best Friend's house and then to the movies to see Nacho Libre. Cute. Somewhat funny. The line "because sometimes, when you are a man, you will wear stretchy pants in your bedroom" will be used time and again. That's a promise.

After the movie, Roadchick, Best Friend, and Best Friend's husband headed out for drinks. Roadchick had a hard time because her Club ADHD affliction was not indulged and she had to stay stationary for what seemed to be a VERY LONG TIME. But then...Roadchick and posse headed for The Bad Karaoke Bar that was mentioned in a previous post about meeting Cleopatra. Roadchick has not been back to The Bad Karaoke Bar since that fateful New Year's Eve. Apparently, while Roadchick was away, pursuing the offerings of eHarmony and sampling the clubs downtown, The Bad Karaoke Bar has turned into a gay bar.

Roadchick was amazed. She was surprised. And the karaoke? Still bad. No drag queen divas struttin' it for the homefolks. She briefly considered doing some Judy for the crowd and then decided that there was still not enough beer in Tennessee to warrant such action. So, she played darts instead. And the evening did not suck. And Roadchick was no longer bored and wanting to move on.

But, it was time to go. Back to Best Friend's house to watch TV and hang out for awhile longer. And Roadchick was amazed to find out that Hulk Hogan has his own reality show a la The Osbournes. Hogan Knows Best. And Roadchick was entertained. It almost made her wish she had good cable. Almost. But not quite.

There was knitting this weekend also. The Preppy Warshrag is becoming a reality. And if Roadchick gets it together, she might even find a digital camera to take a picture of her masterpiece for you, Patient Reader.

But, just remember, y'all - sing it loud and sing it proud - we are family...

No Riders

Well folks, Roadchick is driving solo at the moment. The Man has a lot of stuff going on both personally and professionally so he's needing a little bit of space. This little development threw Roadchick - she was not expecting it, but it's all right.

So, to keep from unproductive brooding and sulking over the turn of events, Roadchick indulged in a little bit of retail therapy to get her over the hump.

She probably hasn't mentioned it before, but Roadchick is also a Knitter. So, to Stitch&Bitch she went and snagged some Sugar&Cream dishcloth cotton at her favorite yarn store. Yes, Patient Reader, Roadchick is knitting warshrags. They're addictive. They are the crack cocaine of knitting because they're so easy and so fast and oh, so satisfying.

Roadchick admits to stealing the picture below from Sheila, the owner of the yarn store. But, in the interest of keepin' it real, Roadchick's latest excursion into the land of warshrags will be completed in hot pink and lime green with some white thrown in for good measure. Not just warshrags, y'all - preppy warshrags. So prep, they're ready for Harvard.



Picture it, y'all - PREPPY warshrags. GO TO HELL warshrags. Just like your daddy's golf pants.

And, Roadchick also picked up the pretty pink & white yarn she needed to put decorative edging on the bambino sweater she is knitting for an as of yet to be decided bebe. She had a bebe in mind, but right now, she is not sure if the previously designated bebe will get the sweater, mainly because there is another man involved with that (it's his daughter that is pregnant) and he is also a Very Busy Man and very Wrapped Up In His Children And Their Various Activities And Pursuits. So, if Roadchick is feeling generous and the correct phone call comes when the finishing stitches are being put in, then the bebe shall have a pretty pink and white sweater.

And, speaking of bebes - Roadchick has to go to a baby shower this weekend. Roadchick hates showers of any kind be they baby, wedding, housewarming - it does not matter. She LOATHES them. So, on her way home tonight, if she remembers, Roadchick will fly into her local Target and grab some kind of baby gear and a gift bag and be done with the whole horrible project.

And after that? Hanging out with her friends, finally going to see DaVinci Code, eating some dinner, drinking some drinks, and playing some cards. And in her spare moments, knitting. But what Roadchick will NOT be doing is waiting for the phone to ring.

Never, In a Million Years

Did Roadchick think she would be seen at Fan Fair. Never. Well, now it's called CMA Music Festival or something like that, but still. The closest Roadchick got to the festivities was checking people into hotel rooms when that was her day gig.

The Man, however, is a big country music fan. Roadchick likes country music but is not of the fan mentality. Well, she didn't used to be. (See the post about Ronnie Milsap.) In order to spend time with the Man, Roadchick made her way downtown not once, but TWICE during the weekend. On Saturday, Roadchick also took her son and his girlfriend along because another friend's father is a musician and was performing. Chuck Gatlin is an awesome performer and if y'all are ever in Music City and have the chance to see him - do. Even if you have to Mapquest a map to where he's playing.

Roadchick's crew and the Man met up and listened to music for awhile and headed back to Hard Rock Cafe, because, after all, is there anywhere else to eat? Of course not.
The Man had a 4 day pass to all of the events and concerts so when he headed off for the evening concert at the Coliseum, Roadchick and her crew headed for home.

On Sunday, Roadchick and the Man made plans to meet up downtown and hang out for awhile before he headed off for the final concert of Fan Fair. The Man wanted pictures of Sammy Kershaw so he went to take those and Roadchick hung around the gate like the worst sort of groupie - the kind that is too CHEAP to purchase a ticket to the event but still hopes the band notices her. While she was hanging around and trying to look cool, one of the security guys started chatting to Roadchick. Asking her what she was "mixed with". Roadchick, ever the brightest bulb on Broadway, immediately thinks of alcoholic drinks and cut up fruit and lovely mixers. This, of course, made no sense whatsoever. Roadchick, undaunted, moves closer and says..."Excuse me?" The security guy who had cornrows that ended in braids on his shoulders, repeats himself. Unfortunately without clarifying what "mixed with" meant.

No, Patient Reader, do not point out that Roadchick should have figured it out by now, because she had NOT. Finally, security guy explains himself. "Are you part Indian?"

Now, of course, Patient Reader, you most likely do not know what Roadchick looks like. She is blonde. Almost white-blonde. With blue, blue eyes. And reasonably fair skin. She could not look like more of a Viking or German Beer Maid if she tried. Roadchick is NOT part Indian. Not the tiniest sliver.

But, now Roadchick is beginning to understand. (Remember - not the brightest bulb on Broadway.) Security guy is chatting her up. So, Roadchick chats back, explaining that she is pretty much a white girl and the Man is inside the fence, taking pictures. And she is waiting for him to return. Because he is inside the fence and she is not. Because she (sniffle) doesn't have a pass. If she had 5 more minutes, she would have been inside that fence, Patient Reader. Roadchick guarantees it. But, the Man returned and off they went, back down Broadway with the rest of the tourists.

All too soon, it was time for the Man to go to the concert and Roadchick to head home. So, the Man walked her back to the corner, hugged and kissed her goodbye, and headed off into the Fan Fair sunset while Roadchick turned the corner and headed to her car. Halfway down the block, Roadchick saw something hanging from a parking meter. She moved closer, approaching cautiously, not wanting to attract attention to the fact that THERE WAS A 4 DAY PASS HANGING FROM SAID PARKING METER AND NO ONE WAS ANYWHERE NEAR IT except for a group of skater kids that would have scammed the pass just to be mean to Roadchick. This was a sign from Above that she was MEANT to go to the concert.

Y'all, Roadchick got the pass and got her tail on a shuttle bus to the Coliseum. While on the bus, she called the Man. She asked him where his seat was and it was in the nosebleeds somewhere. He wondered why she was asking such a thing. Roadchick calmly informed him that her seat was Lower Level, Row 4. The Man was speechless for a moment and then asked if she had bought a ticket to the concert. Hell, no. If Roadchick was going to buy something like that, she would have had it a long time ago, not 3 minutes before the show was going to start unless she had planned it that way. Scalpers.

Roadchick explained where her ticket came from and the Man was amazed. He met her at the Coliseum after he finished walking there. Roadchick, on the other hand, was fresh as a daisy since she rode the bus. Because, she's a lazy tourist. No extra walking for her if she can help it.

And, on that night, the last night of the festival,Mr. Ronnie Milsap was performing with Los Lonely Boys. Oh. My. God. Roadchick has not the words. She is praying that there will be an album. She wishes she was a big enough dork to have smuggled in a video camera or something. Y'all - it was so worth it.

It was worth it even though she had to walk back across the pedestrian bridge that is 10,000 miles tall and all uphill both ways. In the rain. In flip-flops. And a white shirt. She would do it again in a heartbeat.

And, she would do it again in a heartbeat just to be able to spend that time with the Man.

Because, sometimes? She acts like she is 12.

Whew!

Y'all, it's been a busy, busy few weeks in Roadchick's life. (Which explains the lack of posting - there hasn't been time to write about it since she was out experiencing it! And all for YOU, Patient Reader, for YOU!)

Roadchick has been to Dukesfest 2006. What is Dukesfest 2006 you ask? It is only THE premier gathering of Dukes of Hazzard fans in the world! It is also really frightening to realize that there are that many caution-orange tshirts with the big "01" & General Lee printed on the front. And who knew that you practically needed one to get through the gates? Not Roadchick. She does not own a General Lee tshirt. She still does not own a General Lee tshirt. Toward the end, her resolve was wavering but she escaped without buying one.

And, at Dukesfest, there were 101 General Lees. The cars, not the tshirts. But, people, tell Roadchick if she's right or not - if you've seen one General Lee, you've pretty much seen them all. The same for the Hazzard County sheriff's cars. But, ladies - there was only ONE replica of Daisy Duke's jeep, Dixie. Roadchick knows why this is - the entire world has forgotten the existence of the Dixie. Roadchick knows this is the truth because until she saw the Dixie, she had forgotten it existed.

Roadchick, the Man, and her son took all of this in in about 30 minutes and then headed to the Hard Rock Cafe for refreshments and dinner. Roadchick and the Man were thankful that the tickets had been given to them for free because to have paid for all that Dukeness would have been....silly. There was nothing to actually DO there, other than walk around and look at General Lees.

Yes, Patient Reader, there IS a Man. The Man has been around for about 6 weeks and so far, so good. Roadchick and the Man have a lot in common and like to do a lot of the same things - even down to Club ADHD.

What is Club ADHD, you ask? Club ADHD is the inability to stay in the same club longer than it takes to finish exactly ONE beer. After one beer, one must get up and move on down the road to the next venue. It is permissable to return to an establishment that was entertaining but one is not allowed to remain for longer than one beer because that causes boredom to set in. This could be a match made in heaven. Well, eHarmony heaven. Thank you Dr. Neil Clark Warren.

What else? Allow Roadchick to consult her list of adventures. . .

Roadchick and the Man went to a radio interview of Ronnie Milsap. More precisely, "An Intimate Evening with Eddie Stubbs and Ronnie Milsap". Y'all, let Roadchick just say...Ronnie Milsap is an amazing man. Roadchick knew less than nothing of Ronnie Milsap other than he was a blind piano player that did country music. Roadchick could not have told you a song that he did if her life depended upon it. But, Roadchick has joined the brethren. Ronnie Milsap has converted her.

He was AMAZING. (Did Roadchick mention that already???) He told the audience of about 300 people that he would be glad to stay until everyone that wanted to meet him or have their picture taken with him had had the chance to do that. "Why do y'all think I wore this shirt?" AMAZING. And he was really nice and funny. Oh, and the piano? The man can flat PLAY the piano now. Roadchick was stunned into silence.

The same night that Roadchick joined the Ronnie Milsap Brethren, she also saw Wheatus (of "Teenage Dirtbag" radio fame) at a little small club. That was completely painted black inside. With nowhere for anyone to sit. Although the "management" did provide two barstools for the old folks to sit on. These were considerately placed against the sound booth for maximum vibration to all internal organs. Roadchick was glad to go home afterward. Although, she can now say that she saw Wheatus perform "Teenage Dirtbag" live and in person.

What? You want to hear more about Ronnie Milsap? Stay tuned, Patient Reader - there is another chapter to that story. . .