Duhhhh

Lawd, y'all, the 'chick apologizes for the lack of posting.

There is total brain-dead-ness going on and nothing really interesting happening unless you'd like to hear all about the 'chick's sinus infection.

No?

Why not?

Oh, yeah - the whole TMI thing. Roadchick does not blame you.



In a moment of shameless self-promotion, the 'chick WILL tell you that her birthday is Friday, and she will be AWAY so there will be a lack of posting over the weekend. Party like it's 1999, y'all! Woo hoo!

(Note to crazy stalkers: No, she won't. And the attack cat is at home. And a moat full of alligators. Stay away.)

What? You wonder how that would be different than right now?

Well, um, it IS different, because you've been warned. Yeah, that's it.

Hopefully the lil weekend away will generate some stories that don't involve Kleenex, Nyquil, and sinus infections.

On a happier note, and without too much TMI, the 'chick finally did go to the doctor for the wretched sinus infection and is medicated to the MAX. Unfortunately, not with any sort of pharmaceuticals that have any street value whatsoever. Bummer.

So, the 'chick wishes you a Happy Pre-Halloween Weekend & she'll see you next week.

Caught Red-Handed

Welcome to the second installment of List Elaboration.

Topic for Today: Shoplifting
Also Filed Under: A Good Explanation For Why Roadchick Is The Way She Is

When Roadchick was a wee lass of about 3 or 4 years of age, she was taken to visit Santa Claus at a local department store. This was a visit that Roadchick looked forward to every year and she prepared very carefully so that she would know exactly what to say when asked if she had been a good girl and what would she like for Christmas.

When it was finally her turn, she approached the Great Man cautiously and was seated in his lap. All the questioning went as planned and Roadchick was given a candy cane and a coloring book with Rudolph on the cover. Happy and secure in the knowledge that a good Christmas was coming, Roadchick went home.

A few days later, Roadchick was taken back to the same store by her mother and left ( ! ) in the toy department to amuse herself while her mother completed her shopping. (Obviously this was in the days of small-town America when kidnappers and child molesters stayed in the big city and before parents knew better than to leave a TODDLER unattended in a toy department.) Roadchick was happily amusing herself looking at all the Christmas toys and trying out a few that were out of their boxes.

After a few minutes, Roadchick turned the corner and there was Santa's chair. But Santa was not in it. There was a sign with a clock on it, but since Roadchick couldn't read, she didn't know that it meant Santa was Feeding His Reindeer (but more likely Taking A Leak or Smoking A Cigarette). But, it was obvious - Santa Was Not In.

Roadchick approached cautiously. She knew that Santa had magic powers and might just *POP* up when least expected. She peeked behind the chair, but there was no Santa. But, Patient Reader, Santa had Left His Bag.

Roadchick, being a nosy little wench, decided to have a look inside. After all, there might be better things in the bag instead of a Rudolph coloring book, right? Like maybe her Christmas presents! So, completely forgetting the magical power business, she rummaged inside the bag. There were more coloring books inside as well as candy canes and little boxes of crayons. She had not gotten crayons. She also had not gotten the Elves Workshop coloring book that was infinitely more better than the stupid old Rudolph one that she HAD received. And the candy cane had been eaten in the car before ever arriving home.

So, ever one to look out for herself, Roadchick helped herself to a box of crayons, the Elves Workshop coloring book, and another candy cane or two. Then she went 'round the corner to the doll aisle and settled in to wait for her mother.

Mother arrived shortly thereafter and it did not escape her attention that Roadchick had quite a selection of Christmas merchandise that she had not had in her possession upon entering the store. She asked Roadchick about it.

Mother: Roadchick, what do you have there?

Roadchick: Look - a coloring book and crayons and a candy cane.

Mother: Where did you get those?

Roadchick: Um, Santa. Santa gave them to Roadchick.

Mother: (looking around the corner and seeing the Santa chair still empty as it was when they arrived at the toy department)

Mother: (tapping her foot and looking at Roadchick with that look)

Roadchick: (looking at the floor and shuffling her feet around and trying to hide the rest of the candy canes)

Mother: Roadchick, are you sure that Santa gave those to you?

Roadchick: Yes.

Mother: (penetrating stare)

Roadchick: (shuffling around even more and beginning to wonder if she is going to pee her pants)

Mother: Roadchick, Santa was not there when we got here and he is not there now. Did you take those things yourself?

Roadchick: Um, no. (Roadchick was not a very bright child)

Mother: Roadchick, I'm going to ask you one more time - did you take those things yourself?

Roadchick: But this is a better coloring book and look, crayons.

Mother: That is not what I asked you.

Roadchick: But . . .

Mother: (staring and tapping her foot)

Roadchick: (hanging her head)

Mother: I thought so. Well, this is a problem. You are going to have to take those things back to Santa and explain to him that you took them without permission.

Roadchick: (HORRIFIED, TERRIFIED look)

Roadchick: (starting to cry)

Y'all, imagine the situation. Not only was Roadchick caught stealing but she was caught stealing from Santa. She knew, in her little Catholic pre-schooler's heart that she was going straight to Hell - do not pass Go, do not collect $200.00. She was flat out terrified and probably peed on herself a little. Roadchick's mother was absolutely unforgiving and unrelenting and PENANCE WOULD BE DONE.

All too soon, Santa returned from Feeding His Reindeer and Roadchick's mother led her up to the chair. Santa looked at the sobbing Roadchick and Roadchick just cried harder. Roadchick's mother told Santa that Roadchick had something she needed to tell him.

Santa: (taking a slightly damp Roadchick on his lap) What is it, little girl?

Roadchick: (holding out her loot) Santa, Roadchick took these out of your bag and she's sorry

Roadchick: (crying hysterically, knowing that there would be No Christmas or maybe Coal and Switches)

Santa: (looking at the slightly crumpled coloring book and crayons and sticky candy canes)

Santa: Well, Roadchick, I think you know it was Wrong to go in Santa's bag without permission, don't you?

Roadchick: (nodding and sniveling and generally making a spectacle of herself)

Santa: As long as you promise Santa that you won't ever do it again, Santa will forgive you and forget all about it.

Roadchick: (relieved look) Th-thank you, Santa.

Santa: And for being such an honest little girl, you can keep those things. Can you smile for Santa?

Roadchick: (trying to smile and still sniveling)

Mother: No, I don't think that would be wise. It would be rewarding her for stealing. Roadchick, leave those things here.

Roadchick: (flying into hysterics again because in her terror of facing Santa, she had forgotten that she still had to Face Her Mother)

Roadchick: (leaving the coloring book, crayons, and candy canes behind and throwing a desperate look at Santa, hoping that he might send her to the North Pole instead of Home With Her Mother)

Y'all, it was a long, long ride home with her mother that afternoon. Let it be said that the entire experience left quite an Impression on Roadchick so that she was never quite so eager to take something that wasn't hers again. And Santa? Well, he lied. It was not forgotten and there was a noticable . . . decrease in gifts from the North Pole that year.

Let it be a lesson to you, kids. Don't tug on Superman's cape, don't spit into the wind - don't steal coloring books from Old St. Nick and you don't mess around with Mom.

The Birth of a Stalker

As promised, the 'chick is back to elaborate on one of the items that she checked on the Mindless Monday list.

Topic for today: Had A Crush On A Teacher
Also filed under: Most Embarrassing Moment, EVER

When Roadchick was still just a Roadchicklet and in high school, she Had A Crush On A Teacher. Not just any teacher, mind you. He was a new teacher (just out of college with the ink barely dry on his teaching certificate) and also a football and wrestling coach. And, absolutely adorable. Absolutely.

Roadchicklet was about 16 years old and madly in love with the Coach, who was also her Geometry for Idiots teacher. There was much adolescent mooning around and contrived reasons to speak to the Coach.

One rainy afternoon, Roadchicklet and another smitten female decided it would be very cool to do a drive-by of the Coach's house (where he lived with his older brother, also a Coach and Teacher at the same high school).

So, being very cool, the pair c r u i s e d by sloooowly with much giggling involved. Then, rode around the block and c r u i s e d by sloooowly again, still giggling.

Hee hee - isn't that his car in the driveway? Why yes, it is. Hee hee hee.

A few minutes later, another slooooow drive by. Giggling ensues.

A few minutes after that, following much circling of the block, the girls get bolder.

(Y'all know that this is not going to be good, right?)

Instead of circling the block, this time the girls decide to turn around in the driveway.

Bad idea.

Bad, bad idea.

You see, Patient Reader, it had been raining. For several days. And the driveway was gravel and mud. Do you see where this is going?

Smitten Girlfriend pulls into the driveway and puts the car into reverse. She gently presses the accelerator. And promptly sinks to the axles in mud and gravel.

(The only good thing Roadchick can say about this is - at least she wasn't driving and it wasn't her car.)

The car is stuck. Stuck fast. As in concrete. Not moving.

Oh no.

Much quick thinking is going on in the car.

There is no alternative option available so Roadchicklet and Smitten Girlfriend get out of the car, sinking to the knees in mud and gravel and start making their way to the front door.

The shame and embarrassment are nearly overwhelming but again - there are no other options. This was before the days of common cell phone ownership and even if they had one - no way to avoid detection.

They ring the doorbell and Coach Adorable opens the door. Roadchicklet and Smitten Girlfriend do their best to act surprised that Coach Adorable lives in this particular house on this particular street.

They explain the situation and Coach Adorable looks over their shoulders to see the car mired in his driveway. Fortunately Coach Adorable's older brother is NOT at home - yet.

Coach Adorable makes his way out to the car and has to help PUSH the car out of the mud, getting liberally coated in mud in the process. Roadchicklet is ready to die of embarrassment. She offers a pan of brownies, completely homemade as a bribe for his silence.

Coach Adorable agrees not to say anything (yeah, right!) in exchange for brownies.

The next day, Roadchicklet delivers the promised brownies to school. When she gets to Coach Adorable's brother's class (he taught biology), she was treated to a few rather cryptic comments regarding mud and brownies and driveways and cars. She wanted to sink through the floor. Coach Brother agrees to keep silent in exchange for chocolate chip cookies.

A couple of years later, when Roadchicklet was graduating, she received a present from the Coaches. It was a pan of brownies with a Matchbox car sunk in the middle.

Roadchick did learn a lesson from the whole experience and refined her stalking technique. She now knows to NOT turn around in the victim's driveway because you just never know what might happen if you do. Let Roadchick's embarrassment be a lesson to you - it's better to stalk from a little further out.

Mindless Monday

Fill in what you’ve “done”:

(x) Smoked a joint
( ) Done cocaine
(X) Been in love
( ) Had a threesome
(x) Been dumped
(X) Shoplifted
(X) Had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back
( ) Been arrested
(X) Made out with a stranger
(X) Gone on a blind date
(X) Had a crush on a teacher
( ) Been to Europe
( ) Been to Canada
( ) Been to Mexico
(X) Seen someone die
( ) Thrown up in a bar
(X) Met a celebrity
(X) Met someone from the internet in person
(X) Been moshing at a concert
(X) Gone backstage at a concert
(X) Lain outside in the grass and watched cloud shapes go by
(X) Made a snow angel
(X) Flown a kite
(X) Cheated while playing a game
(X) Been lonely
(X) Fallen asleep at work
( ) Fallen asleep at school
(X) Used a fake ID
( ) Been kicked out of a bar
(X) Felt an earthquake
(X) Touched a snake
( ) Slept beneath the stars
( ) Been robbed
(X) Won a contest
(X) Run a red light
(X) Been suspended from school
( ) Had braces
(X) Felt like an outcast
( ) Eaten a whole pint of ice cream in one night
(X) Had deja vu
( ) Totaled a car
( ) Stolen a car
(X) Hated the way you look
( ) Witnessed a crime
(X) Been to a strip club
( ) Been to the opposite side of the world
(X) Swum in the ocean
(X) Felt like dying
(X) Cried yourself to sleep
( ) Sung karaoke
(X) Paid for a meal with only coins
(X) Done something you told yourself you wouldn’t
(X) Made prank phone calls
(X) Caught a snowflake on your tongue
( ) Been kissed under the mistletoe
( ) Had a bonfire on the beach
(X) Crashed a party
(X) Seen a tornado
(X) Had a wish come true
( ) Gone bungee jumping
( ) Screamed in public
( ) Told a complete stranger you loved them
(X) Had a one night stand
(X) Kissed a mirror
( ) Had a dream that you married someone
(X) Gotten your fingers stuck together with super glue
( ) Been a cheerleader
(X) Sat on a roof top
( ) Talked on the phone for more than 6 hours straight
(X) Stayed up all night
(X) Not taken a shower for three days
(X) Made contact with a ghost while playing a Ouija board
( ) Had more than 30 pairs of shoes at a time
( ) Gone streaking
(X) Been skinny dipping
( ) Been pushed into a pool/lake with all your clothes on
(X) Had sex in a public or semi-public place
(X) Been kissed by a complete stranger
( ) Broken a bone
( ) Caught a butterfly
( ) Mooned/flashed someone
( ) Had someone moon/flash you
( ) Cheated on a test
(X) Forgotten someone’s name
(X) Slept naked

Well, that's a rather telling list, isn't it? The 'chick invites you to complete one too. Consider yourself tagged if you're interested.

The 'chick is going to use some of those as blog ideas...it occurs to her that some of them might require some explanation or elaboration and some of them will make a damn fine story.

So, on a Mindless Monday...do a list!

Blame It On The Nyquil

After spending the weekend in a Nyquil-induced haze, the 'chick is back - at least somewhat.

Sunday was spent in bed, watching 8 hours of Flavor of Love with Flavor Flav. Y'all, this is not normally something that Roadchick would do. She blames it on the Nyquil. However, Nyquil did make the entire series infinitely amusing.

The 'chick got sucked into it...couldn't tear her eyes away and watched it to the thrilling conclusion to see who Flav was going to choose to be his new amour. Y'all, it was Deelishious. New York was scorned for the second time after being invited to re-join the show midstream. Hee!

Roadchick has to state for the record that she is somewhat alarmed that all this really started to matter to her yesterday. Couldn't Flav see that New York was a scheming, conniving biatch? Who was out to control his life, just like her mother? Would he figure it out in time? Would the camera crew tip him off that in her little personal asides she was saying things like: I'll let him think he's in control.

Drama, people...drama.

So, it's Monday, and the Flavor of Love drama is over except for the reunion show coming up next weekend. Roadchick sincerely hopes that she'll be over it all by then and not tune in, but the previews showed a fight worthy of Jerry Springer so it's entirely possible that she'll be glued to the TV next weekend too.

She blames it on the Nyquil and a massive case of Medicine Head.

The 'chick hopes that y'all had a more productive weekend than she did. Actually, she's pretty ashamed of herself for indulging in 8 hours of Love. Let's not mention this again.

Friday the 13th Follies

Well, it's Friday in Roadchick's world - probably your world too, unless you are over the International Date Line and then Roadchick does not know what day it is for you. She has enough trouble keeping track of her own days.

It was one of those mornings at Chez Roadtrip - waking up in the dark (ugh!) and wondering why it's not Saturday or Sunday thereby allowing one to turn back over and go back to sleep. Of course, the hefty dose of Nyquil last night did not help matters much at all. Apparently, the 'chick has caught a change-of-weather cold. Misery to all. And there will be misery to all because Roadchick is not much on suffering in silence or alone. No, not really. Actually what the 'chick really, really wants is to go home, put on her 'jammies, and crawl into bed to sleep for about 12 hours. That would truly be heaven.

Michael at Cardiac Fantasies was conducting a dream experiment in which he gave an idea to think about before bed with the purpose being to actually dream of the scenario. (Wow, that was a messed up sentence, but, please figure it out or keep moving - there is no editing for clarity today.) Anyway, the 'chick was playing along and actually remember to prompt herself for the dream but apparently Nyquil voids all bets. The 'chick did have a dream but it involved 1/4 inch thick contact lenses that were scaring her because she didn't know how she was supposed to put them in without them hurting. This had absolutely NOTHING to do with what she was meant to dream about which included secluded woods and spooky moons and things like that. Just creepy corrective lenses. It is entirely possible that the reason she had contacts on the brain was due to the episode of CSI: Las Vegas last night and Halloween contacts. Who knows?

Laundry was a topic of conversation around the coffee pot this morning. Y'all know it's time to do laundry when you're down to either a) church clothes or b) club clothes. If you're coming to work in a low-cut top and granny panties, you'd better be getting to the Soap Opera Laundromat. Fast. No, the 'chick did NOT make an appearance in either of those items. Her laundry is relatively caught up. The granny panties remark did cause a discussion though . . . how does underwear get those little holes in it? This led one co-worker to comment, while looking down in the general direction of her underwear: Yeah - hey - what's going on down there that I don't know about??? This caused Roadchick to have hysterics, which made her eyes water (from the cold), and then caused all sorts of unpleasantness. But still - funny.

Another friend went to a songwriter's night on Wednesday and said that one of the artists did a song about "When you're down to your Christmas panties, it's time to do the wash." How true, how true. There was another song about "I got all worked up over nothing, then I married him." Roadchick is thinking that she (the singer/songwriter) might be just a tad bit bitter over the men in her life. Just saying, is all.

On that cheery note, the 'chick is going to get busy & hopefully get some work done so she can go home and burrow under the covers and swill Nyquil like a wino. Hope y'all have a great weekend!

Rocktober

Happy October, y'all.

October is Roadchick's favorite month of the year for several reasons. The first reason is...it's finally cooling off and the humidity, for the most part, is GONE. Another reason the 'chick loves October is because the leaves are starting to change. The colors are phenomenal and by the end of the month, it's going to be absolutely gorgeous here.

Now, the two most important reasons that Roadchick LOVES October:

1. Her birthday is at the end of the month.
2. Halloween is also at the end of the month.

It's hard to decide which of these two makes the 'chick more excited.

The 'chick actually, usually, enjoys her birthday even though all the milestone ones have passed. Or, at least the milestone ones that are enjoyable like turning 16 and getting a driver's license...turning 21 and getting drunk....turning 25 and having the car insurance rates go down....you get the idea.

So, her birthday. This year to be spent in Gatlinburg, TN with Redneck. Awww. Roadchick has lived in Tennessee for about 14 years now and has never been to Gatlinburg. There was talk about her citizenship being revoked for such sacrilege. That little oversight will be remedied before the month is out.

And, Halloween. Y'all, this is most probably the 'chick's favorite holiday because there are no expectations and nothing is required of her. That, and it's very very close to her birthday. Close. Since the 'chick loves Halloween so much, she has a pretty good collection of Halloween decorations and once she gets her lazy butt in gear, pictures will be taken and posted for your voyeuristic enjoyment. (Edited: Assuming, of course, that BLOGGER allows her to post pictures ever again.)

In the meantime, the 'chick's thoughts have turned to pumpkins. One pumpkin has already been carved by Rockboy as a surprise for his mama. Awww. Y'all, it has flames for a mouth. It's tough. There will be a picture (see above: getting her butt in gear). (Also see above: re: Blogger and the whole picture thing. Sheesh.)

Redneck took Roadchick pumpkin shopping on Saturday afternoon and after much comparing, a pumpkin was selected.

Today, while at work (and she is still at work), it occurred to the 'chick that she was a little tired of the usual pumpkin patterns that she's used for the past several years - witches, vampires, bats, etc. TO THE INNERNETS!

Roadchick has found her patterns. Roadchick is muttering incredibly bad words at Blogger for not uploading the pictures for you to see.

(Edited to add: Please see the apology at the end of the post for all the whining you have and are about to read about uploading pictures. Thank you.)



Anyway (sigh) Roadchick and Rockboy will have Ozzy and Sharon Osbourne gracing the front porch this festive season. Another pumpkin purchasing expedition will have to be planned.



You can look at the patterns at
The Pumpkin Wizard. Definitely worth a look although not all the patterns are free.

There are also some really cool patterns at Zombie Pumpkins. Again, not free, but not expensive either.

In related creepy news, Roadchick and Redneck were at a car show on Saturday. Redneck has a 1950 Chevrolet DeLuxe that used to be his daddy's and he takes it to shows occasionally. While at the show, Roadchick and Redneck were next to a lady that owned a really bitchin' Impala...year uncertain (Roadchick is uncertain, that is - Redneck would know immediately). The car was called the "Black Widow". Anyway, over the rearview mirror, there was a braid. Of human hair. Tied on both ends with a red, white, and blue ribbon. Just hanging there. HUMAN HAIR. In the Black Widow. Mysterious, no?

Finally, curiosity got the better of Roadchick and she asked Maxine (no joke) about it. All that Maxine would say was: It's from the days when I was racing.

This led Roadchick to wonder - was it Maxine's hair? Was it a competitor's hair? Whose hair is hanging from the rearview mirror? And WHY??? There are no answers to that one, folks. Sorry. File it with the Skull In The Basement story.

Post-scripted whining: Why Blogger? Why? Why do you not let the 'chick upload her lovely, funny pictures? Why? She has read the FAQ. She has read the Help files. She surely cannot be over her limit. This is not possible. Why? Oh why?

Post-post-scripted ....apology???: Thank you, nice Blogger for letting Roadchick finally upload her nice and funny pictures. Please to be enjoying.

And the Winner Is. . .

Pacian!

Congratulations!

Here's what we had to start:

The glint in his gray eyes as he seated himself opposite her told her that Rhy was well aware why she hadn't chosen the sofa, but she ignored him and amused herself by watching the parade of early-morning travelers.

Their flight was five minutes late, and Rhy was already restless when the loudspeaker called their flight number. He got to his feet and took her arm, and suddenly gave her a whimsical smile.

"Those are some spikes you're wearing," he commented. "You come up to my chin...almost."
"They're also dangerous weapons," she said, her mouth curving.

And the thrilling conclusion:

At that moment the klaxon began to sound.

"Scramble! Scramble!" the chief air marshal screamed, leaning out of
the
stark spire of the control tower. Behind him, in the red-bathed
twilight
sky, the approaching air-jellyfish could already be seen, electric
barbs
poised and ready to attack. Ponderous civilian airliners veered away
from
them all too slowly.

The fighter pilots raced to get airborne before they reached their
prey.

As Rhy swung his leg over into the cockpit of his triplane, his short
wife
straightened the tall death-spikes on her helmet and climbed into the
cannon
mounted beneath the aircraft's hull. Rhy paused for a moment, twirling
his
moustache. "Good luck!" he shouted.

"You too!" his wife returned.

When he was out of view she unbuttoned her flight jacket and checked
that
the stolen plans were securely fastened into her belt. Rhy thought she
was
his loyal wife, but if he only knew that her true loyalties lay with
the
air-jellyfish and their gibbering octopus god…

******************************************************************************

Pacian, if you'll email the 'chick a snail mail address, your wonderful prize package will be on it's way to you.

Have a great Monday, y'all!