Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Google This!

From time to time, the 'chick likes to take a look at the Roadtrip's stats, just to see how people wandered in.

The mind reels.

13 people wandered through the closet door looking for mariachi pants. Several people also rummaged around looking for some killer jeans. Apparently, there are a lot of people wandering around without pants on.

This could explain why there are several people strolling around, wanting explanations for cock rings and flikr cop cock. The 'chick wishes them well in their quest.

It's possible that those folks might meet up with whoever was looking for Renfair boobs. (Michael, can you help that guy out?) It's possible that this is the same person that found their way to the Roadtrip looking for a "Show Your Tits" bumpersticker.

Y'all may want to take to carrying mace when you visit when you see that other things people have been looking for include: pooping in a bag, how to wash panties, sugar daddy blondes (???), roadtrip large panties (obviously NOT the 'chick's panties), songs about sugar daddies, hermit thrust pictures, and American girls' phone numbers.

There were also a lot of people wondering how to wash clothes and how you fold your clothes reveals your personality. People also came in looking for clothes hampers and something called a panties hamper. (If you need a separate hamper for your panties, it's entirely possible that you are not doing laundry often enough.)

Then there were the people who came armed with credit cards, ready to do a little Goodwill Hunting. (The 'chick is still not going to give up the location of that amazing Goodwill where designer fashions can be had for pennies so don't even ask.)

Several people also wanted to see a picture of a squirrel hoarding nuts. To the best of Roadchick's recollection, she does not have any pictures of squirrels hoarding nuts.

As Dolly Parton (playing Truvy in Steel Magnolias) said: There are some pretty sick tickets in this town.

Y'all be careful out there.

Sunday, January 27, 2008


A couple of weeks ago, Roadchick moved into the 20th century. Not the 21st century. The 20th century.

For years (ever since moving into the current Chez Roadtrip) the 'chick refused to pay for more than the basic Basic Cable - which included the local channels (all the better to watch Stormtracker 2004, 2005, 2006, and 2007) and all the church and shopping you could handle.

For reasons unknown, the 'chick was also able to access FoodTV and VH1. The 'chick did not share this information with the cable company.

Right after the first of the year, the 'chick took the leap into the 20th century and signed up for Direct TV. A satellite dish is in proud residence on the side of the house. Thankfully, technology has advanced to the point where satellite dishes no longer require the purchase of additional acreage. (The neighborhood association would not like a space station in the side yard.)

Y'all - there's a lot of TV out there to watch. The 'chick has seen the wonders available on good cable and on the satellite networks. Friends and family have them. The 'chick has even managed to not snatch the remote away to find her own show to watch. (Usually because among the 10 remotes on the table, the 'chick was never entirely sure which one was for the channel-changing and would've hated to catch the house on fire from using the one for the fireplace or turned on the lawn sprinklers in the middle of a child's birthday party.)

The 'chick almost doesn't know which way to turn first. There's BBC America and all the great British TV . . . one hour on the local PBS station on Saturday nights was never enough. There's the Discovery Channel - who can ever get enough Mythbusters or Dirty Jobs? There's the History Channel - Redneck and Roadchick watched about 3 hours of Nostradamus and the End of the World last night. (Romantic choice, wasn't it?)

Did y'all know that late at night, when you can't sleep, odds are entirely in your favor that a show called "Erotic Shopping" will be on? Yes, indeedy. These two women who look like they could be your neighbors sit on a couch and show all different types of vibrators and sex toys. Who knew? And, as an added incentive, there is a special phone number for the ladies to call, where other ladies will take your order without judging you for needing the $145.00 Super Thrust with Rotation. Imagine.

2008 promises amazing things in Roadchick's world. Who knows what wonders of technology she'll buy next?

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Pour Another One, Just Like The Other One

The Recipe For Roadchick

3 parts Defiance

2 parts Intellect

1 part Power

Splash of Wit

Finish off with a little umbrella and straw

Some days, the only thing that is going to make it better is a drink. This is one of those days, darlings. This is one of those days.

For those of you that are prayin' folk, send a few words skyward on behalf of the 'chick's sanity and for the safety of others that are getting in her way.

That is all.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

In Which The 'Chick Tries Very Hard Not To Go There

Mysterious title, no?

Auntie Roadchick shall explain, darlings.

Last night, while driving home, the 'chick was chatting on her cell phone. A good friend and co-worker was on the other end and many, many topics were discussed.

Toward the end of the conversation, Mr. Malaprop said:

Did you see on the news where they busted that cock ring?

Roadchick: . . . (moment of breathless silence). . . followed by hysterical, screeching laughter

Mr. Malaprop: You know, that sounded wrong in my head, but it came out of my mouth anyway. What is it called, then?

Roadchick: (still screeching) It's a cockFIGHTING ring. Not a cock ring.

Mr. Malaprop: Oh, I said something bad, didn't I?

Roadchick: (more screeching laughter) Slightly.

Mr. Malaprop: What if I had said that at work? Can you imagine Mr. Bossman's face?

Roadchick: Oh, the 'chick would pay for tickets to see that.

Mr. Malaprop: Are you sure it's not a cock ring?

Roadchick: (swerving slightly on the road, still hysterical) Tell you what - you go Google cock ring and cockfighting ring and see what you find.

Mr. Malaprop: (a minute later, post-Googling) If I had said that at work, I would've have to move to Africa. To Zimbabwe or somewhere. No one would ever see me again.

Proof yet again, darlings, if it sounds wrong in your head, don't let it come out of your mouth. If you do, please make sure the Auntie Roadchick is nearby so she can blog all about it.

Monday, January 14, 2008


There is an ongoing problem in Roadchick's world.

The problem is this: it's freaking COLD in her house. The thermostat is set to about 70 degrees.

It is around 65 degrees inside the house.

The heat will not come on often enough.

This is the third thermostat that has been installed.

Now, here's the kicker: when it's not terribly cold (or hot) outside, everything works just fine.

When the temperature even thinks about going to an extreme, the heat or A/C will not come on properly.

The heat and A/C are two separate units.

Redneck has no idea what the problem is (we really thought changing the thermostat would solve it) so Rockboy and the 'chick have taken to bundling up like Eskimos and shuffling through the house wrapped in blankets and quilts. Speedbump has taken up residence on the 'chick's down throw blanket and hisses whenever the 'chick tries to get it away from her to use for her own self. Thinking warm and sunny thoughts does not help.

Unfortunately, it is looking like a call is going to have to be made to some sort of HVAC repair person. Who will want real dollars for coming out to figure out why the 'chick's house is at sub-zero level. Of course, by the time the 'chick actually gets a professional out to the house to look at the problem, the weather will have warmed up and the problem will no longer be evident.

Ironically, just a couple of days ago, it was too hot in the house. Too hot even for Redneck who thinks that he should be able to wear a t-shirt year-round while inside the house and won't even consider layering to save on heating costs.

It's now cold enough that the 'chick's fingers are refusing to type properly, so y'all keep warm and the 'chick is going to bed, to hide under the covers until it warms up.

Maybe she'll pretend it's like Little House on the Prairie when there are icicles hanging from the rafters in the loft. Hopefully Pa will get up early and build a big ol' fire in the woodstove before the 'chick has to get up.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

That Bites!

Over the Festive Season, the 'chick's laptop had a little accident - it wound up on the hardwood floor. The screen did NOT like this. Anyway, fixed now, so let's move on, shall we?

This story was told to the 'chick and the teller swears that it is true. The 'chick does not doubt it.

The guy telling the story was talking about his ex-girlfriend. She had decided to take up stripping for fun and profit. A local club agreed to let her give it a try and up on stage she went.

All was going well until the manager motioned for her to use the pole.

Anxious to please the boss, the girl goes for it. She launches herself at the pole, catching herself and trying to flip herself upside down.

She launched herself harder than she thought because she hit the pole, slid down like a fireman going to a fire and her butt slammed down onto the stage. When her butt hit the stage, her mouth flew open and her false teeth popped out and fell into the first row.

There's an advertising angle the denture adhesive companies never thought of . . .