Venus Speaks:

Gentlemen, the ladies have spoken. The illustrious panel consists of Mist 1, Ariel, Heather, and the 'chick.

Here's what you said you wanted to know:

Preference - little foreplay with long period of intercourse, or foreplay to orgasm with shorter period of intercourse following?

Roadchick says: Yes. To either one. As long as it's mutually satisfying. And frequent.

Mist says: Yes. Thank you. Can we do it again later?

Ariel says: It matters on the guy to me. If it's someone I barely know then foreplay to orgasm minus the intercourse all together. I, personally, think intercourse is a more personal interaction between two people.

Heather says: switch it up some. sex gets boring if it's predictable. if you aren't fluent in her body language use english. ask her in an appropriate manner though. standing at the end of the bed with your pants around your ankles saying, 'so which do you want more of, intercourse or foreplay?' will probably end up with you getting no action at all. start with the foreplay and take your cues from her, asking would you like me to continue (fill in the blank) or would you like me to (fill in the blank) is fairly foolproof. better yet, lots of both! unless of course you're gonna be late for work or the kids are banging on the door trying to get in. ;-)


Unless you actually like to fight, why is it that you all will keep doing a thing again and again, knowing that it has provoked a fight every single time in the past, and therefore knowing full well that it's going to cause a fight again?

Roadchick says: That's kind of difficult to answer since of course the 'chick would never do anything to intentionally annoy someone. Her sister-in-law, however, routinely does something to the 'chick's brother that cracks her the hell up. Roadchick's brother keeps a bottle of water in the fridge. It is his bottle, he fills it up, and he drinks directly from the bottle. It's his bottle. Sister-in-law routinely moves it to the back of the fridge, hidden behind the milk or juice or something. When Brother accused her of doing it deliberately, she told him that, yes, indeed, she did move it, just to piss him off. Maybe it's just payback for something that you keep doing over and over again, knowing that it will annoy the female in your life.

Mist says: I'm very good at fighting. I don't like to to fight, but if you will play along, I am usually up for an opportunity to demonstrate the proper technique for storming out of a room angrily, the Silent Treatment, drinking the last beer to spite you, and other passive aggressive behaviors. However, I don't think this question is about fighting. This question really addresses what happens when you settle into a relationship. At first, all those little quirks were cute. You even encouraged them. Now, they drive you nuts. Really, I don't understand why you continue to let those things bother you. If you know they are going to create a fight, why don't you just build up a tolerance to those things?

Ariel says: I think both sexes do this—sometimes it's accidental. Sometimes I know it'll piss you off and I'll do it purely for spite.

Heather says: j and i have this problem too. we both do things that annoy the piss out of the other. i can't speak for him but on my part it's usually that i'm not thinking of him specifically when i'm doing whatever it is. by the time i realise what i've done it's too late. however if you're talking major things, like maxing out the credit cards on unnecessary purchases remember this. fighting about something is not the same as resolving an issue. until you two have had a calm and rational discussion about it and come to a decision you can both live with you will both feel like you're in the right and the same thing will happen over and over again. compromise has to be a factor in every relationship, be it a friendship, business, or a marriage. the trick is to find that middle road and stay on it.


Most of you seem to want to go out with nice guys. Why do you then so often end up with the A$$holes? And when you find a nice one, you end up taking advantage and taking them for granted because they're not A$$holes and you know you can get away with it. What is up with that?

Roadchick says: Sometimes, we want a Bad Boy. Sometimes we want you to quit being quite so nice and do something a little shocking or exciting. Sometimes we want you to slay dragons for us. And sometimes, we want to see how far we can push you before you will finally push back. Women like to know that their man is strong and secure. Let yourself be pushed around a little too often by the woman in your life and you'll regret it because then she can't respect you. And she wants to be able to respect you. She also wants to know that you'll kick somebody's ass if he messes with her.
The other thing is - just like girls know when another girl is a bitch? Y'all know if a guy is an asshole. Sometimes, the girls can't tell that they're actually dating an Asshole. That's when the Men Friends in her life need to step in and tell her, in detail if necessary, that she's dating an Asshole in Disguise.

Mist says: Are you a nice guy? Are you sure about that? Do you have a friend or brother who's an a$$hole? Have him call me. I'm not sure that I believe in the nice guy/a$$hole theory. I think that it's a convenient excuse. Also, I think we're all a$$holes in our own way, it just takes a special someone to bring it out of us.

Ariel says: I should know exactly what to say to this question because I typically fall for the assholes. Personally I think it's because I used to think I could change/save the guy from himself and his asshole ways. He was a challenge—I would mold him into what I wanted him to be with time and lots of force. Most of the nice guys I meet are so nice that it comes off as fake after being with the assholes.

Heather says: i call it the fix him syndrome. 'i know he could be a good man, he just needs some help getting there.' which then becomes 'he's such a good guy, i don't deserve him. he doesn't see it yet but he will and then he'll start treating me like dirt.' as a measure of self protection she decides to get a head start. none of this is done consciously, rather on a subconsciouses level. on the other hand though some women are just bitches and don't care how they treat people.


Why can't yall just say what you mean? For example:
me: whats wrong?
her: A)nothing, B)I don't want to talk about it
me: okay.
(a week, two, or 12 passes)
during a totally completely unrelated minor argument....
her: "well you COULD have found out what was bothering me that time 6 weeks ago but you took my 'nothing' and 'I don't want to talk about it' as meaning nothing and I don't want to talk about it. Now you must die you insensitive prick!"

Roadchick says: The 'chick does NOT do that. She's probably a little more direct with her feelings that some are comfortable with. However, the ladies that do this are subconsciously probing to see how "in tune" you are with them. Can you tell what is wrong? Why not? It' obvious, isn't it. (No, of course it's not.) Roadchick's mom is an offender in this area. The best way to gently re-train this behavior is to continue to do exactly what you're doing - ignore it, don't reward it, and don't play into the argument later down the road. It's painful, but it does work.

Mist says: I don't understand this question. I don't have the ability to hold my tongue. If there is an irritant, everyone must know. I don't think that I've even given anyone the opportunity to as me if anything is wrong. Surely, this question is a joke. I am here to provide valuable advice. I demand to be taken seriously and prank questions like this will not be tolerated.

Ariel says: If you know that there's something wrong, don't let "I don't' want to talk about it" or "nothing" be the answer. If you really care what's bothering me then bug the hell outta me until I let it out. Oh yes, I will hold onto it for 6 weeks because you didn't care enough 6 weeks ago to take the time to find out. (cough) Maybe this is hitting a little too close to home this morning.

Heather says: a) nothing = i don't know right now, i'm just crabby/angry/sad. ~or~ it's not a big deal, we'll talk later, just not right now
b) i don't want to talk about it = the last time i told you (blank) was wrong you made me feel like it was an insignificant problem, making me feel like ~i~ was insignificant and i'm not going to allow you to make me feel that way again. ~or~ i'm too pissed off at you/him/her to talk about this rationally right now, give me some time to chill.
you can avoid the whole 'now you must die you insensitive prick' stage by asking her a day or two later about it. 'hey honey, i know you were pretty upset the other day. are you ok now, would you like to talk about it? i can't help if i don't know what was bothering you. i know i'm dense sometimes but help me out here.' this is best done when it's just the two of you and you've just handed her a pint of her favorite ben and jerry's. yelling 'hey! what the hell was wrong with you the other day anyway?' during a commercial break while she's in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner is not going to get you any useful information... a black eye maybe. :-)
as to why we don't just say what's on our mind, it's called shorthand. when we're pissy/sad/confused it's sometimes easier to just use shorthand than to have to explain everything.


When something is clearly bothering us, and you ask what is wrong, and we tell you "I don't wanna talk about it. It isn't you. " then why do you all hear "I wanna tell you all about it. It must be all about you. Now ask me a million questions and REALLY get me pissed off."

Roadchick says: Because it's always all about us. Don't you GET that? Females are very in-tune emotionally. Everything is tied to emotion. The relationship is tied into emotion so if one part of that relationship is having an issue, it affects the relationship, therefore directly affecting the female. The easiest way to deflect the frantic female is to give her a little information about what is bothering you, request some time to yourself to process the situation, and reassure her that if you need to talk, you'll let her know. Give her a hug and kiss and tell her you love her. That's all she really wants to know anyway - that it's NOT her, and you love her.

Mist says: Either you are in a very open relationship or you have multiple personalities. Clearly, when you say "us" and "we," you are talking about you and your other selves. This would be enough to drive any woman crazy. It's hard enough to be in a relationship with one man, but add a few other personalities to the mix and you have a recipe for lots of arguments and opportunities to sleep on the couch. She is not asking you a million questions, she is asking all of you. The way I see it, you have two options; 1.) tell your other personalities to buy her nice shoes, or 2.) integrate. I am willing to pass on my shrink's phone number so that you (collectively) can get some help.

Ariel says: It's because if the shoe was on our foot we really do want to talk about it when we say we don't want to talk about it. Sometimes. Hell, I don't know. Most of the time if I'm told "No, seriously, I don't want to talk about it" I just shrug it off and go wait for him to come and talk to me about it. I think we care and want to be able to make the problem go away even if we had nothing to do with it.

Heather says: we don't hear 'i wanna tell you all about it.' depending on your tone of voice and body language we hear either 'i have a boo-boo and need help but i'm a guy and can't ask for it.' ~or~ 'oh goody! gossip! you've got to hear what so and so did!


How do we open the subject of a threesome without getting killed? Guys all dig this scene. You all will never bring it up even if you're curious and/or interested. So how do we do it respectfully without dodging shoes, coke bottles, and the family cat?

Roadchick says: Best advice? Know your girl. If you're seriously considering this, then you should, by that point in the relationship, know your partner well enough to know if they have a bit of the freak about them. Are willing to experiment. You could start a little smaller - role play or costumes and see how she does with it. If it goes well, expand a little further. A threesome is threatening to most women because you might love the other girl more than her. You might leave her for the other girl. It's all emotion based - not sex-based like for the guys.

Mist says: Buy me some shoes. If they are really nice I will not throw them at you. I also will not throw the cat because I will need someone to sleep with while you are getting used to sleeping outside. As for the threesome, be careful what you wish for. It may not go exactly the way that you intend it too. There is too much possibility for disaster. No matter how it goes, you will probably end up regretting it. Why not have an arrangement with me that I can sleep with other people and tell you about it in graphic detail later so that you feel like you were there? That sounds like a good compromise. No, you can't do the same.

Ariel says: I prefer a straight up approach—tell me it's something you want to try, ask me if it's something I want to try, respect my decision either way—If I say no, don't pout and talk about how all the other girls do it—If I say yes, for the love of god don't do a victory dance.

Heather says: ok, for starters not all guys are into this! i brought this up with an ex years ago and the next thing i knew i was a bi-sexual slut who couldn't keep her pants up if she was paid to! needless to say i was shocked. especially since the only reason i brought it up in the first place was that his birthday was coming up and i wanted to fulfill a fantasy for him. i've never asked anyone since and i never will. the point to all this is that the following is just a guess. i just don't know from experience. two ideas come to mind. 1) watch porn with her. if scenes involving threesomes make her hotter than one on one scenes, she's probably receptive to the idea. you could ask her if she's ever wanted to try it. but try to do so in such a manner that makes it clear that you're ok with either answer and you're not going to disappear off the face of the earth if she says no. or you can try number 2) while doing something that is not directly related to sex such as cooking or cleaning (when its just the two of you) ask her what her fantasies are, you may get lucky. just make sure she's in a good mood first. don't try this when she's been running around all day or working at a job she hates. after expressing a willingness to act out one of her fantasies tell her some of yours. just make sure one of them includes a ~romantic~ seduction of her. you know, candles, roses, wine with a cork. none of that box stuff. and one that's totally off the wall. like having sex while skydiving. that way a threesome sounds perfectly normal compared to the rest. either way, good luck with this one.


My wife will not let me go to a Strip Club unless she goes. Then she'll help pick the girls for the table dances, have a couples table dance, and even help the dancer with the "arousing" bits. Why is that? Is it a control thing, or does she just not trust me alone?

Roadchick says: She's making sure that even though you're looking at some strange, you are NOT forgetting who you're married to. The 'chick suspects, unless wife is bi, this is an example of the "I'm a good sport and just a little kinky" trick. Your wife could give a shit about being at the strip club except for the fact that she is making sure that YOU don't give too much of a shit about being at the strip club. And she's claiming her territory in front of the dancers.

Mist says: At my local strip clubs, we are discouraged from helping with arousing bits. In fact, we get escorted out for helping with arousing bits. Where is this fine establishment where you can help with the arousing bits? I'll see you and your wife there. You'll recognize me by my big hair, I'll recognize you because you'll be the man on a short leash. Also, I really, really like saying "arousing bits."

Ariel says: It sounds to me like a control thing. If she's that involved maybe it gets her hot and bothered too and it just doesn't seem appropriate for her to go alone.

Heather says: personally, i like to think that j can't become aroused without me. i'm not stupid though and i know that isn't the case. it's one thing to watch porn and another to actually have the girl right there in flesh and blood. and tassels. and g-strings. and whatever else. you can fantasize all you want about porn stars but in reality very few of you will actually meet them. much less have a chance to sleep with them. as for the girl at the local strip joint, she's right there for the taking. j and i have never been to a strip club together but i think i would be seriously insecure about it. i ~know~ he loves me and isn't going anywhere but still.... at least your girl and you enjoy the clubs together. be glad you get that much.


My girlfriend asks me what I want for dinner. I tell her anything will be fun, whatever she feels like cooking. Then, whatever she cooks, I'll happily eat. Yet this annoys her, why?

Roadchick says: Because she cannot think of a single thing that sounds even remotely appetizing or interesting and she's hoping that you'll be decisive and say: I want meatloaf (or steak, or whatever) and then she can 1) fix what you've said you'd really like to have ...and...2) not have to try to figure something out. Sometimes, we really do want to give you what you want. Take advantage of that when it's offered.

Mist says: The bigger question is, if you know that this annoys her, why not just say tacos or meatloaf or pan-seared tuna? Incidentally, please make pan-seared tuna night Wednesdays so as not to conflict with anything else in my schedule. Let's say, 6-ish?

Ariel says: Dude, take the effort to say wtf you want to eat. Most likely if she asked you she has no clue what to cook and really needs your input on ideas. As my mother used to say "I'm fresh outta anything and whatever is moldy"

Heather says: would it kill you to help in the decision making process? i get this all the time, only j usually doesn't like what i've made. sometimes we just don't know what to make or we're not really into cooking at the moment but we've gotta eat. when she asks what you want ask her what your choices are and does she have a preference. if she does have a preference say ' that's great, i was thinking the same thing.' offer to set the table or help cook. but don't just disappear till the dinner bell is rung. if she doesn't have a preference, pick something, it doesn't matter what, just something off of the list of choices she gave you. and again, offer to help. chances are that she's not only annoyed that you didn't help making the decision, but that you didn't help either.


Men are more visually stimulated than women. If we're at a mall, I'll see a hot chick and look. Its my girlfriend I'm going home to, it's my girlfriend that I'm holding hands with at the time, it's a natural reaction, so WHY does that piss her off so bad? Is SHE insecure?

Roadchick says: Yes. Are you just NOW figuring that out? It's threatening because yeah, that is a hot chick - maybe she's hotter than girlfriend - what if you're tired of girlfriend and want the hot chick - you'll leave girlfriend and then she'll be alone and people will call her the crazy cat lady . . .
It's all emotion-based. All of it. We're all insecure in one way or another. Maybe a previous boyfriend was a real dick and flirted constantly with other women and cheated on her. Is that your fault? No. Are you going to pay for his screw-ups? Yep, until she is comfortable and secure that you are NOT that guy. Try saying something like: She's hot, but so are you _____ and mention something about her that you DO think is hot. Y'all are visual. Surprise, surprise, guys: Girls are auditory. Talk to her. Talk dirty to her. You might be surprised what those words can do for you.

Mist says: I keep trying to tell you not to look at me in the mall. I appreciate that you recognize how well my slutty jeans fit me. You should know that when my friends and I burst out in laughter, it's because of you and how you look holding her hand admiring my jeans. We see that look in your girlfriend's eyes and we know that you're in for it. G*d, that never gets old. Another question, why do you go to the mall with your girlfriend? Have her call me, we'll shop together. You can't be that much fun to shop with.

Ariel says: Yes, but most women are. We also want to be the center of attention so if you want to look at some other female while you're holding our hand it's not good.

Heather says: does this 'look' involve drool or an erection? if so you're out of line. and yes, she is insecure. you can help counter her insecurity by either saying something catty, ie: what was she thinking wearing a t-shirt today, it's 20 below out!' or something smooth, ie: sure she's got a nice butt, however you have the sexiest eyes/smile/legs i've ever seen. followed by a kiss. a nice kiss, not a peck on the cheek but not something that's gonna get you thrown out of the mall either.


Is there any possible way to make the 'switch' from a girl you have dated a few times to her close friend?

Roadchick says: Wow, y'all like to live dangerously. Sure, give it a try. But be forewarned - previous girlfriend will absolutely tell new girlfriend all of your....shortcomings. In detail. Possibly with pictures.

Mist says: Yes. Absolutely. Here are some things that will help you make this transition as smooth as possible. You will need to continue to take her out to dinner and call her right before you go to bed. You will have to meet her parents and you will not be able to date anyone else. Introduce her to people as your future wife and call her cute nicknames in public. Always, always walk with your hand in her back pocket. Then, when she gets sick of you, she will suggest that the two of you remain friends (note: she may not mean it when she suggests the whole friendship thing, but at least you will have had the chance to sleep with her a few more times.) That's the only way.

Ariel says: I haven't had a guy attempt this with me and a fellow friend since high school. I think you have talk to the friend you want to see and see if she and the other friend have set terms regarding if they're "allowed" to see exs. Trust me, most close friends have had this conversation at one point or another.

Heather says: ok, 1st things 1st. have you dated girl 'a' in the last month or so? if so you're screwed for now. if not, so far so good. 2nd, keep in mind that girl 'a' has told girl 'b' everything. and i do mean ~everything~ so if you managed to piss off girl 'a' you're back to being screwed, or rather not gonna get screwed. if you haven't dated girl 'a' in a while, does she know that you're no longer interested in her as dating material? until she knows that and is good with it, it won't be an easy road at all. if she does know and every things good between you guys then my suggestion is to talk to girl 'a' first and tell her that you would like to ask girl 'b' out but you don't want to cause any unnecessary tension between the two girls. if nothing else she'll like that you cared enough to come to her first. an added benefit would be that she could clue you into whether or not girl 'b' is interested. honesty is the best policy here. and could save you a lot of grief in the long run. if girl 'a' freaks about it you may want to date someone outside her circle for a while. at least until things chill, who knows, you may decide not to date girl 'b' after all. :-)


My wife tells me that if I ever cheat on her she will not kill me fast. She also followed up the statement with: "Have you ever read Stephen King's Misery?" Is this a sign of her love? Or permission to cheat?

Roadchick says: Do you feel lucky? As a general rule, the 'chick would urge caution around psychopathic, hormonal, frustrated women wielding large cleavers and hammers, but you go with whatever works for you.

Mist says: Your wife doesn't know who I am, does she?

Ariel says: Dude, that's one of the worst threats I've ever heard. My ankles ache just thinking about it. Word to the wise: don't cheat unless you don't value your ankles.

Heather says: no and no. it's a threat, pure and simple. a damn good one too. a back rub for you when you know she's tired is a sign of love, a 'wow honey, she's hot! you should do her.' is permission. so unless you're seriously into pain and suffering, cheating is not recommended, what ~is~ recommended is a re-reading of misery and watching the movie to help you decide if it's worth the hassle. after all, just how good could the sex possibly be?

A Birthday Card (Of Sorts)

You can make your own "card" here.

Men are from Mars

Yesterday, Roadchick and Michael from Cardiac Fantasies were conducting one of their standard email "conversations". These conversations cover a lot of different topics, but one thing the 'chick has discovered is that Michael is the perfect male person to ask questions about what men actually mean when they say something. Or what in the hell was he thinking when he said/did/bought/decided that??? He has never let the 'chick down.

This sparked an idea.

Ladies, this is your chance.

Michael is going to select a couple of other males to assist him in answering your questions in a "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" type of way. Then, Michael will extend an invitation for the men to ask questions and Roadchick and a couple of other females will answer their questions.

Any question is fair game - relationships, friendship, sex, gift-giving - whatever you've always wondered but never had anyone to ask.

Feel free to leave your questions in Comments -or- you can email the 'chick at the address at the top right of the page. If you want to remain anonymous, just say the word and no names will be mentioned.

The deadline for questions is Friday, February 23rd and the answers will be posted shortly after that.

Valentine = B-1 (The Vitamin of Love)

Happy Valentine's Day, y'all!

The other night, the 'chick asked Skaterboy (Redneck's son) if he had gotten his Valentines for school yet. Since he's in the third grade, the Valentine's Day party is still a reality.

In typical male fashion, he said no, he had not, but he guessed he'd better get some before the party. Since Redneck, Roadchick, and Skaterboy were going into town, the 'chick said they'd get some.

The crew headed to Walmart, local Valentine's Day emporium. There were Valentine shirts, pj bottoms, panties, and socks. There was candy and bears. There were decorations and wrapping paper and bows.

What was in short supply was Valentine cards for kids.

Granted, it was a bit late in the Season O' Love to be shopping for such an item, but still...

Skaterboy was forced to choose between SpongeBob Squarepants and Harley-Davidson. He chose the Harley cards. The 'chick asked him if he needed to bring something to the party, like candy.

What he said struck horror and sadness deep into her soul.

Candy is not allowed at school.

WTF? No candy? No candy on Valentine's Day? No chalky candy hearts saying Will U B Mine? No melty, gooey chocolate hearts? No cupcakes with red heart sprinkles and Hawaiian Punch?

Redneck explained that the school was concerned that kids were not eating healthy and made a rule that only "healthy" things can be brought to school. The kids will actually get into trouble if they are caught with candy or soda.

What the hell are these kids being fed at parties? Soy milk? Apples? Bran muffins with carob chips?

The 'chick offered to crash the Valentine Party with an enormous sack of chocolate and sugar but Redneck talked her out of it, explaining that Skaterboy would get into trouble if she did.

It doesn't bode well for the adults of the future. The kids of today need to learn how to spoil others with loads of crap on holidays.

Picture it: Valentine's Day, 20 years in the future. An older Skaterboy arrives at his girlfriend's house, Valentine's Day gift in hand.

She opens it, breathless with anticipation.

Inside: a protein bar and a bottle of water.

Healthy Valentine's Day!

Dirty Little Secret

Scary things happen when the 'chick is left to her own devices. Redneck had some things that he needed to do last night, so the 'chick had the night to herself. Now, y'all are thinking that the 'chick must have gone bar-hopping or crashed a party or possibly even robbed a convenience store. Not so.

It occurred to the 'chick that it had been a long time since she had cleaned the house. Really cleaned. So, once Rockboy had taken off with his friends, the 'chick got started. Dusting, vacuuming, doing laundry, sweeping the floors, mopping. It was when the mopping started that the 'chick began to suspect that she needed to be medicated. Mopping is not a favored activity at Chez Roadtrip.

The thorazine dart did not help - it only added to this cleaning. . . fervor so to round off a lovely evening, the 'chick washed the light sconces from her bathroom and bedroom, the dining room, the living room, and kitchen.

Don't ever do this. Let Auntie Roadchick tell you why.

If you remove the protective coating of dust, hairspray, cat hair, and who-knows-what-else, then you can really see what needs to be cleaned. That dim, romantic, mood lighting is no more. You now have the equivalent of a surgical suite right in your own home.

It was a little too far past Halloween to pass off the cobwebs as decorations and even the most die-hard Halloween lover would be hard pressed to think that the 'chick was just "planning ahead". So, more dusting: of the ceilings and corners, more dusting of the furniture, more vacuuming of the floor.

Thankfully, the strange mood began to pass and the 'chick settled into bed. Closing her eyes, her mind began racing once more.

Two days. Two days of being mostly at home. Two days. Visions of roast chicken and mashed potatoes began to dance through her head. Followed by desserts: cakes, brownies, cookies, perhaps even another stab at Nemesis Pudding. A grocery list was composed in her head, almost as if she had been hypnotized.

The 'chick fell asleep, conforted by the thought that all this Domestic Goddess business would surely be well behind her come morning.

So, it's morning now and the carpet shampooer is calling to the 'chick. It's a seductive whisper, a promise that "this won't take long and you'll feel wonderful afterward".

The 'chick has to hurry. Rockboy will be home before long.

The Best Valentine's Gift EVER

Valentine's Day is coming, y'all. It's on February 14th, in case you weren't aware of that.

Roadchick has been thinking about Valentine's Day. It's been a long time since there was a "special someone" in her life to share it with. Somehow, the 'chick just wasn't dating anyone each time the Holiday of Love rolled around.

When the 'chick was still married, the Now-Former-Mr.-Roadchick was not known for having great skills in the gift-giving arena. At Christmas, the 'chick could usually count on receiving socks and some sort of appliance. Unfortunately, these were not the appliances that relied on batteries - they were the appliances that required the 'chick to do some sort of cleaning or cooking.

Still, each year, as Valentine's Day approached, the 'chick would be hopeful, certain that this was the year that she would get a piece of jewelry or flowers or something that was at least a little bit romantic. Something that showed that her spouse had actually listened when she dropped not-so-subtle hints, such as, "Wow, that is an amazing necklace. The 'chick wishes she had one." and left the sales flyer folded open at the page with a sticky note on it with a message like: This would look so great with that black sweater.

Alas, the hint was never picked up once it was dropped.

One year, actually the last year that they were married, the Now-Former-Mr.-Roadchick came home on Valentine's Day carrying a long box, festively wrapped in shiny red foil with a big bow on it. The 'chick's heart leapt, certain that this time it would be different.

After a few minutes of breathless anticipation, the 'chick was allowed to open her gift. She eagerly ripped the bow from the package and tore the paper away. The box did not give any clues but it was gratifyingly heavy. Slowly, preserving the moment, the 'chick opened one end of the box and slid the styrofoam packing out.

After all their years together, he had finally gotten it right. The Now-Former-Mr.-Roadchick had bought the perfect Valentine's gift.

Because nothing says "I love you" like a .22 rifle. It's the gift that keeps on giving.

Coincidence?

Lawyer says Anna Nicole Smith has died

This was the headline on Yahoo! news at 3:00 p.m. today.

The 'chick mentioned her yesterday in relation to wardrobe malfunctions at the Super Bowl.

Coincidence?

You be the judge.

And...don't make the 'chick mad.

Evicted!

The 'chick came here today intending to do a little post about Valentine's Day and shopping and hearts and flowers.

Instead, when she got here, she found an eviction notice on the blog's door. SWITCH NOW! (Or, go to your dashboard. You can only do this ONCE.) Blogger is getting ready to make the 'chick move. She can feel it. But, that's what you get when you're living in the rent-controlled apartments of Blogger.

Now, here she is, scrambling around, trying to gather her valuables into a pile by the door in case the "flawless" switch is maybe not so flawless. And the landlord is standing there, tapping his foot, eyeing stuff and wondering how much it will bring on eBay.

The 'chick is notoriously suspicious of "new and improved" technology. See, the thing is - with the "old and crappy" technology, the bugs have been worked out for the most part. The exterminator has been making regular visits. With the new - not so much. There are colonies of pests yet to be discovered - after they've eaten the equivalent of a cashmere sweater.

Why, yes. The 'chick is comparing the quality of her writing to a cashmere sweater. Thank you for noticing.

But, Roadchick will join the 21st century kicking and screaming and possibly ranting about parachute pants and break dancing.

In related issues (and always at least 3 days late and several dollars short) - did y'all see Prince do the half-time show at the Super Bowl??? The man can wail on that guitar. Rockboy is even in awe of his mad skillz and that takes some doing since Rockboy is a self-taught classical guitarist.

The 'chick has to say, though, that 'Prince' and 'Super Bowl Half-time Show' were two things that she never figured to say together.

Have y'all noticed that since the Janet Jackson wardrobe "malfunction" the NFL has had men headlining the half-time show? The 'chick has noticed. She doesn't know what all the fuss about Janet's boob was about though - get Anna Nicole Smith up there and let her have a wardrobe malfunction and then you've got some news.

Now, who wants to help pack?

Funny, Like VD

Hi, y'all!

It feels like the 'chick has not posted anything worthwhile in a LOOOOONG time. It is not necessary to agree with the 'chick in comments. Really. She knows. And apologizes.

So, what have y'all been doing?

Life at Chez Roadtrip has been just a little chaotic lately. All the lame ducks are quacking at once and the 'chick has been driving (literally driving) herself demented trying to be everything to everyone at the same time. But, things seem to be settling down a little (knock on wood) and hopefully life will get back to what approaches normal in Roadchick's world.

This morning, the 'chick was trying to catch up on some of her blog reading instead of working and found, much to her surprise, that the Roadtrip is up for review at BlogLaughs. The 'chick is a reviewer for BlogLaughs and offered the Roadtrip up for ritualistic sacrifice during a period when there weren't a lot of blogs in the queue for review. Needless to say - TERRIFIED NOW! Especially, since just lately, the Roadtrip has been as funny as a case of the clap.

A couple of weeks ago, Rockboy's band did a show at a little music club in lovely downtown NashVegas. The club is in a definitely questionable area, located directly in front of the World's Largest Adult Bookstore and just down the street from the Mission, where Nashville's homeless can get a hot meal and a warm place to sleep. (Yes, the 'chick regularly donates money since her time is rather full, what with her day job supporting the mentally retarded and developmentally disabled, rescuing her own personal lame ducks, and doing the laundry.) So, on the day, Roadchick, proud band mama that she is, arrived at the club around 6:00 p.m. and met up with Rockboy and his bandmates. They all hung around in the bitter cold until the side door was unlocked so the amps and guitars could be unloaded and carried inside. As soon as the doors opened, a flock of homeless guys appeared from the darkened side streets.

As the 'chick was supervising a Marshall full stack amp sitting on the sidewalk, one of the homeless guys approached and proceeded to chat up the 'chick.

Homie: Hey, pretty baby - got any money?

'Chick: No.

Homie: Pretty baby - nice car.

'Chick: Thanks. (Intercepting a grabbing motion) No, don't touch that amp. Because the 'chick will absolutely kick your ass over it. Step back. Now.

Homie: Ok, ok - no problem.

Homie: (Rummaging inside his jacket)

'Chick: (Watching, arms folded)

Homie: (Producing a wrinkled bag of sour cream & onion potato chips)

Homie: Pretty baby - chips? Chips? (Offering the bag)

'Chick: No, thanks though.

Homie: (Wandering through the opened door of the club, still shaking his bag of chips)

Homie hung around for awhile before being escorted out the side door by the management of the club. Apparently, he is a regular. And regularly booted.

A couple of hours later, the 'chick went out to the car to plug her cell phone into the charger. Immediately, another homeless guy approached, hands out. The 'chick kept an eye on him but continued on with what she was doing. As she walked back around front, the man approached.

Homie #2: Hey, giving away money?

'Chick: Really? Where? Because if someone is, you'll have to get in line behind the 'chick.

Now, before anyone tells the 'chick that she is mean and heartless - don't. Please don't. The 'chick loves puppies and kitties and fluffy soft ducklings. They're delicious.

Waiting around for the show to start is always a boring time. Many cigarettes are smoked by many people, the girlfriends all primp and giggle, the musicians act cool and talk about record deals. This time though, there was amusement. It came in the form of a cell phone call. The drummer of the band had given his cell phone to the rhythm guitarist to hold while he did a partial set-up of his drum kit.

The phone rang and the Boy answered it. It was the drummer's girlfriend. She did not realize she was not talking to her drummer boyfriend. Mistake. Big, big mistake.

Girl: (talk, chat, talk, chat)

Boy: So, you know, it would be good if you would give my 8 friends a ride home after the show. To show that you really do want to be with me.

Girl: (now on speaker phone) Well...um...you know my car is kind of small....I can't fit all of them in.

Boy: So you make a few trips.

Girl: Um...well, you know I have to be home by midnight....and my dad checks the mileage on the car....

This type of conversation continued on in the same vein for awhile and then....then, it happened.

Boy: I know that it's really kind of soon but....I love you.

Girl: (still totally unaware that 1. it's NOT her boyfriend and 2. she's on speakerphone) ..........(pause)......Really? Do you mean that?

Boy: No. This is (fill in name here)

Girl: Hangs up phone.

Now, y'all - it was WRONG. WRONG. WRONG. But funny as hell. In order to atone for laughing her ass off, the 'chick did go tell the drummer to collect his phone immediately and call his girlfriend to calm her down.

One week later, the band did another show at a different venue. Yes, drummer and girlfriend are still together. The waiting was a little easier this time because instead of perching on amps and looking for amusement, the 'chick had learned a valuable lesson.

Roadchick and the band went to Burger King instead. It was delicious.

Waiting Game

How do y'all wait? How do you wait for things to happen, to wait to find out if something is going to happen?

How do you manage the anticipation or dread?

The 'chick has a situation going on in her real-world life that is involving a gawd-awful amount of waiting. If y'all have been hanging around the Roadtrip for any length of time, you know that the 'chick does not: 1) suffer fools gladly -OR- 2) wait patiently.

Sometimes, it seems like the not-knowing in the worst part. If you can finally get some real facts, dates, information then you can get down to the business of wrapping your head around it and accepting the reality. You know how good (or bad) it's going to be.

Yes, Patient Reader, all of this is very mysterious, Roadchick knows.

But here's your chance to offer advice and opinions to the 'chick:

How do YOU wait?

Rockboy: Living Dangerously

Y'all, Auntie Roadchick had a story for you but it's going to have to wait.

Why, you ask?

Because, in the span of a two minute phone call from Rockboy, the 'chick went from ready to tell a story to highly pissed off and not ready to tell any stories, except this one.

And, it's not really a story. It's a rant. The 'chick is venting and y'all get to watch.

Why, oh why, on the ONE day that the 'chick could count on coming home after work and staying home and maybe having a wild girlish fling at getting the laundry done, does Rockboy (who should've been home after school) get a ride from a friend to the mall? Now, going to the mall is not necessarily a killing offense but making a tired, cranky, stressed-out mama get BACK into the car and drive 15 miles to the mall to get a teenager's tail home again just might get you killed. He obviously did not think before acting. He did not consult with the tired, cranky, stressed-out mama before embarking on this course of action. He is obviously out of his rabbit-ass mind.

And NCIS is on tonight.

Roadchick loves NCIS.

The chaufferring expedition is going to interefere with uninterrupted NCIS viewing. Someone is NOT going to like the ride home much.

And you can take that to the bank.

Praise the Lord

And pass the ammunition!

Well, y'all, the 'chick has returned to the land of the living. Thanks so much for all the good wishes.

Now, to prove the theory that no good deed goes unpunished - Redneck is sick. Bless his little heart. The 'chick left him tucked up in bed, phone close at hand, with a cat standing guard.

Actually, the 'chick has been feeling better for a couple of days but work has been absolutely crazy. The 'chick has been on the road, visiting other offices, doing visits, training a new employee, and trying to get some of her own work done. (Getting her own work done = posting something to the blog before everyone thought the 'chick was dead.)

Join Roadchick in the story corner, boys and girls. It's been awhile, hasn't it?

Bice did a post the other day about "Odd Time Religion" and it brought to mind this little story.

A few years ago, Roadchick was invited to attend a church service at a little church up in the hills. Although not a regular church-goer, the 'chick has attended from time to time - just not at this church.

It sounded pleasant enough, so Roadchick accepted.

On Sunday morning, Roadchick put on her Sunday best and presented herself at the church at the appointed hour. Her friends joined her and they all went in together.

The service was moving along nicely - a few hymns were hammered out on the out-of-tune piano - and the congregation boldly sang along. Roadchick chose to lip-synch since she didn't actually KNOW the words (or the tune). (A side-note: Hymns are vastly different depending on which denomination you attend. Catholic hymns are NOT Baptist hymns - not by a long shot.)

After a few announcements (Pancake breakfast, annual parish turkey shoot), the congregation settled in for the sermon.

Brother R.D. did not disappoint.

He commenced with the praying, hands in the air, speaking to his personal Savior. Apparently, it was a good connection and the Savior was answering.

Brother R.D.: Lawd...we're a sinful bunch...sinful....mean....hateful

Brother R.D.: Lawd....You're right...we don't deserve Your goodness...Your mercy....

Brother R.D.: ..........(long pause)..............

Brother R.D.: Lawd, You're RIGHT! (hands high in the air) We must REPENT! REPENT AND BE SAVED! FOR AMONGST US, THERE IS A ......FORNICATOR. AND A DRUNKARD! COVETING THY NEIGHBOR'S ASS!

Y'all, no one moved. No one breathed. No one blinked. We didn't dare. We all knew it was us and any movement would've been an admission of guilt. Roadchick was struggling to keep from bursting into hysterical laughter.

But, just like in that Christmas song, Cousin David knew just what to do. Well, not actually the 'chick's Cousin David...but it was a guy named David....anyway.

David apparently took all of this to heart and there was not forgiveness or contrition in his heart. It's possible that a crushing hangover clouded his decision, but the 'chick is not judging.

David left his seat and headed up the aisle. As he walked, he reached into his jacket pocket (camouflage) and pulled out an enormous hunting knife. When he reached the pulpit, he almost casually put the knife to Brother R.D.'s throat and informed him in a very matter-of-fact voice that he, personally, didn't appreciate his faults and short-comings being brought before the congregation by Brother R.D. when, after all, his sins were his to confess or not, as he chose.

As David gently instructed Brother R.D. on the error of his ways, the little ridgetop church slowly began to empty...one seat at a time. From the back. As quietly as possible. So as to not disturb David. Or Brother R.D.

After a few minutes, David's brother slowly approached the pulpit and began talking to David like nothing had happened. Told him that he always had admired that hunting knife, and where did David say that it had come from again? Would David mind if he just had a look at it for a minute. . . he wanted to see if it would fit in the sheath on the side of his boot.

Amazingly, David handed the knife over, and crisis was averted. No one was hurt (which was a good thing).
Brother R.D. was oddly subdued for a long time after that, people say.
Roadchick would not know. She never returned there.

That Old Time Religion can be a killer.

Temporarily Closed

Due to hideous, unrelenting illness. Those of you that follow along might also have noted that
Michael is also sick. It's his fault that the 'chick is sick. Somehow, he managed to pass a virus through the Innernets. Someone call Microsoft!

Back soon, y'all. Stay healthy!

Keep On Truckin'

A couple of weekends ago, the Roadie crew (Roadchick, Redneck, Rockboy, Skaterboy, and Rockboy's girlfriend)(thanks Kim G.!) took in the Monster Truck show at the Nashville Municipal Auditorium. The Roadie crew knew it was going to be a good time when one of the trucks caught fire before the actual show ever started.

This fire should be filed under: Hey y'all, look at this!

Apparently, the truck (the Jerry "The King" Lawler truck, if anyone is keeping score) had developed an alcohol leak, unbeknownst to any of the pit crew. One of the crew members, being conscientious and making sure everything was in proper running order, stepped under the truck to make a final check. With a lighter.

Poof!

Why this particular crew member didn't use a flashlight is not known but the 'chick is willing to bet that in the future, he will.

There was much running around and stamping on flames on the floor and blowing (as in birthday candles) of the flames under the hood. A crew member that still had his thinking faculties intact finally used a fire extinguisher to put out the flames under the hood. Needless to say, this truck did not run.

Monster truck shows are an open invitation for every redneck in the tri-state region to make a roadtrip to the event. It felt like Old Home Week.

While standing on the sidewalk before the show began, the 'chick was hailed from a passing car by a little girl that is the granddaughter of a good friend. It's good to be a star.

After the monster truck show, the Roadie crew decided to go bowling and a good time was had by all.

The only way to have a more redneck day would have been to round out the evening by going cow-tipping. It's a good thing that there is no livestock within the city limits.

Que?

The 'chick sent out the call for help and y'all responded. Without further ado, here are your questions and the 'chick's answers.

Fringes asks:

What are your five all-time favorite movies?

This list is always changing, but right now, the 'chick is in love with:

1. Slingblade
2. Chocolat
3. Goodfellas
4. Breakfast at Tiffany's
5. Memoirs of a Geisha

Who are your five all-time favorite boyfriends?

Heh. Tricky question.

1. Redneck, of course.
2. Kid Rock
3. George Clooney
4. Sean Connery
5. Bam Margera (for those cradle-robbing instincts)

Why did you stop talking to your best friend from high school?

She was a bitch. Actually, she accused the 'chick of trying to steal her loser boyfriend. The 'chick had no interest in stealing that genetics experiment gone wrong, but the former BFF didn't believe that.

How do you deal with solicitors at your door? Are you friendly or do you use your rifle on 'em?

The 'chick doesn't get many solicitors anymore. The main reason is because the neighborhood she lives in prohibits door-to-door sales. This does not stop various churches from stopping by from time to time to try to persuade the 'chick that her soul needs savin'. The 'chick gently discourages these pilgrims by inviting them in to see her altar. Since Rockboy usually has some sort of hardcore metal blaring in the background, the faithful usually take this to mean that there just might be a sacrifice of some sort on the altar and decline the invitation.

In years past, in another neighborhood, when the Jehovah's Witnesses were making the rounds, the 'chick would call her neighbor to warn him they were on the way. He would answer the door in his underwear, drinking a beer, and waving his service pistol around (he was a cop). As you can imagine, that also tended to discourage repeat visits.

Never, ever give them money. Ever. Even to make them go away when you have a hangover.

Susan asks:

What's your favorite pick-up line?

Take your pants off and roll over.

Fords or Chevys and why?

Chevy. Always. Forever.
Ford=Fix On Road Daily
The 'chick is a Chevy girl.
No Junkstangs in her garage. Payback wouldn't have it.

If you were on a deserted island, what would you take?

A speedboat.

Do you know the way to San Jose?

Go south, turn right.

What exactly do you think the male in the song "Sylvia's Mother" did to Sylvia that was so bad that her mom wouldn't even let him tell her goooodbbyyyeee?

He was obviously a bum with no money. He never did deposit forty cents more for the next three minutes. Puhleeze.

Bice asks:

How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll pop?

One, two, thuh~ree....crunch...three. It'd be less if it was a liquid center.

What tricks can you do with your toes?

They disappear when the 'chick stands up. (Mother Nature loves the 'chick.)

Tell us about the first/last time you remember wearing a dress.

A couple of months ago, the 'chick had to go to a funeral and came to work in her "going-to-a-funeral-or-possibly-a-costume-party-dressed-as-Calleigh-Duquane-from-CSI-Miami" best. About half the people in the 'chick's office asked if she had a job interview. The other half jokingly wanted to know "who died".

Belly button, innie or outie?

Actually, the 'chick prefers a snap to a button.

Mist says:

I always like it when people talk about me. Other than that, my newest infatuation is with all the new judge shows on tv. I'd like to be on one. Do you wanna try to get on Judge Christina or something?

Um, why? Are you going to sue the 'chick? How 'bout Jerry Springer instead? That way the whole crew of Bloggies can come along to share in the dysFUNction.

Michael asks:

Describe your most bizzare dream.

When the 'chick was pregnant with Rockboy she had a LOT of bizzare dreams. The worst was the dream that there were giant cockroaches living in the attic and they were waiting for the baby to be born. The same dream also included the 'chick's mother as a witch. Which was oddly accurate. Anyway.

Tell us about something you hide IRL (in real life)

Chocolate. It ALL belongs to the 'chick and y'all can't have any. Ditto for the vodka. Oh, and the porn.

If you had one place to vacation without worrying about the cost, where would it be and why?

Great Britain. Because that is actually where the 'chick should be. She has a feeling that her temperment is better suited to being there. Plus, she adores high tea. And gin.

What is the aerial speed of a swallow carrying a coconut?

A European swallow or an African swallow? Flying singly or in pairs with the coconut suspended between them? Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.

Sorry. Got carried away there.

Pacian asks:

When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, what is that?

About 1.6 million after the lawyers take their cut.

Y'all, the 'chick hopes that this entertained you as much as it did her. Thanks so much for playing along!

Don't Touch That Dial!

The 'chick's got nothin'.

If you have a question or a topic that you'd like to see discussed, post a comment. If there are enough questions, the 'chick will put them together into an "interview" of sorts.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.

Caffeine, Nicotine, and Stupid

Up until just the other day, the title of this post was a defining force in the 'chick's life. This phrase is a Roadchick original and should be considered copyrighted, trademarked, and generally owned by the 'chick. However, if it applies to your situation, you are welcome to use it. Please rinse it off and return it when you're done.

Caffeine, nicotine, and stupid.

Four little words that defined her state of being after one too many late nights or a wicked bout of insomnia or too many days on the road for work.

Caffeine, nicotine, and stupid.

It was the glue that held the 'chick together somedays.

It was her stock answer for when someone would ask how it was going or how on earth she could get 22 minutes of sleep and still be at work, early, gettin' it done before heading out for the evening only to do it all again the next day.

Caffeine, nicotine, and stupid.

So, the whole "quit smoking" thing. It's messing up the system. It's got the 'chick down to:

Caffeine and stupid

And, y'all, that's not nearly as funny.

The 'chick was talking to a friend yesterday and he was trying to distract her from her addiction long enough for the full body force wave of pure need that was all she could focus on to diminish. Because the 'chick wanted a cigarette so badly that her teeth itched.

Nice, Patient, Good Friend: So, I had a meeting with the boss and then went to lunch.

'chick: Lunch? Lunch? The 'chick would like to EAT a pack of cigarettes. With a cigar for dessert. And possibly a nice tobacco salad to start.

Nice, Patient, Good Friend: (insert some soothing commentary here that has NOTHING to do with smoking)

'chick: (still obsessing) See, this is why the 'chick never did cocaine. Because she would've liked it and she would've done it until it killed her. The cigarettes are probably killing her but it was so gradual that it didn't matter. Unless instant death occured because she was hit by a truck while rummaging on the floor for a lit cigarette that she dropped while opening her beer.

Sticky

It's Michael's fault. It all started with the guest blogger thing.

Now, all of a sudden, it's a blog-orgy. Well, never let it be said that the 'chick didn't do what everyone else was doing. Why yes, she WILL jump off that cliff with the rest of y'all!

Everyone loving up on everyone else.

Donkey wrote an entire post including all of his blog crushes. Somehow, the 'chick was paired with someone named Uncle Junior, but hey, actually, that probably really would happen.

Then, the 'chick and Fringes and Susan started an entire smooch-fest over in the corner by the liquor cabinet. Sylvia's mother even showed up. But hey, Love Will Keep Us Together. You've Got a Friend.

Meanwhile, Mist is writing her manifesto and shopping for shoes and drops in for drinks from time to time. She makes all of us feel like we're on the Diva Radar, if only for a moment.

Lest it be said that the 'chick is a cold bitch, let her say here and now:

Roadchick hearts y'all. Every one of you.

Threaded Bliss

Miss Doxie

Crazy Aunt Purl

Yarn Harlot

Dooce

Comics Curmudgeon

BlogLaughs

Autrice Deldrago

Pacian

Kim G.

Tinker

The 'chick is not worthy.

The Anti-Movement Movement

Sometimes the 'chick manages to surprise even herself.

In the last post, the 'chick went on (and on) about not making resolutions, too lazy, no dedication, poor follow-through, blah blah blah.

And, this is true.

Except.

See the lazy part?

That is the key.

What key, Patient Reader?

The key to anything at all. Laziness.

It all started about 8:00 p.m. on January 1. The 'chick had smoked the last cigarette in the pack a little earlier.

(This is the defining moment, y'all.)

"Hmm, out of cigarettes. Wish someone would go get some more." (LAZINESS) Since there was no one there to hear that random thought, the cigarette pack stayed empty. And has stayed empty simply because the 'chick is too lazy to go get more.

When you are too lazy to get your own cigarettes, it's entirely possible that you are too lazy to smoke. Well, not entirely. But you get the idea.

The 'chick is working on a World Laziness Federation. Wars would end. Who would fight them? Too much like work! Need to lose weight? Cultivate that laziness and DON'T get up and go to the fridge. Watch the pounds melt away!

Join with the 'chick and embrace your inner sloth! No equipment needed!

Confessions of a Check Card Addict

New Year's Eve.

Who was it that called it Amateur's Night?

The 'chick has no grand plans for the evening and to be honest, it's a relief. Last year, the 'chick went out with a group of friends, to a bar, and it was fun but it wasn't fun. It will not be repeated this year.

This year, Roadchick and Rockboy are going to pick up chicken from KFC and go to Redneck's house to eat and watch movies and possibly play cards with Redneck and Skaterboy. The 'chick fully intends to be home long before the DUIs are on the road.

Redneck, bless his heart, had to work today and considering that he and the 'chick stayed up late watching a movie and got next to no sleep, he's going to be tired. 2 hours of sleep and a 10 hour shift will do that to you. The 'chick suspects that he'll be sound asleep by the time midnight rolls around.

The 'chick has been thinking about resolutions. She's never much on making them because she knows how lazy she is and knows that it's destined to end in failure, so, for the most part, she does not indulge.

But.

There is one thing that the 'chick IS going to do this year and she's actually already started. She is going to get her finances in order. It's not that she's in debt or anything like because she's not. Other than a car payment, she does not owe beyond the regular bills every month.

What happened is this: her check card makes it too easy to spend, spend, spend and not keep careful track of how much money is actually left. There have been days toward the end of a pay period where the 'chick holds her breath, wondering if there is enough to get through until her next check hits the bank.

This is stupid, y'all. And laziness on her part. And shameful.

Yes. You've got it:

The 'chick is too lazy to write down her receipts and subtract them.

And she is vain enough to think that the vague, "running total" she has in her head is even remotely close to correct.

But, no more.

She's trying to operate on more of a cash basis because it's easier to subtract a big, round number and then pay as she goes. Much less subtraction too. So far, so good.

The 'chick hopes that you have a lovely New Year's, no matter what you choose to do. Be safe, have fun, and see you next year!

Don't Forget Your Vitamins!

There is a heavy dose of irony going on in the 'chick's life at the moment. It comes from her heavy metal lifestyle.

The 'chick is off work this week. This is a standard happening because the agency she works for closes down for the week between Christmas and New Year's.

During a regular work week, the 'chick has to get up between 5 and 5:30 IN THE MORNING and get ready for work. Has to drop Rockboy and his carpool buddy off at school. Has to get herself across town to the interstate and then battle rush hour traffic. There are mornings when the 'chick feels like she has slain dragons by the time she makes it into her office in the morning. Most mornings, she would've given anything to be able to just sleep.

So, the 'chick is off this week.

(Wait for it - it's coming. . . )

Every morning that she has been off, she has woken up right around 7:00, just in time for the Early Show to start. She stayed in a bed a few of those mornings, trying desperately to go back to sleep but it wasn't happening. Granted, 7:00 is much better than 5:00, but still.

All this early rising has not been without benefit. Mornings when the 'chick wakes up and NEEDS to write are treasured. Although y'all are much too kind to say so, it's usually pretty evident when the 'chick is struggling for something, anything to say.

An idea for a book has presented itself. Unbidden. Unasked for. Lawd above, it might even be 'chick lit and who is better versed to write such a thing?

There is irony in the 'chick's life. She has an irony-rich diet.

No Parking on the Dance Floor

The 'chick has returned from the mall. Twice. In two days. Clearly, she is insane.

Yesterday, everybody in the world was at the mall but amazingly enough, the 'chick and Rockboy parked close to the doors thanks to good timing and the 'chick's Magic Parking Spell. Rockboy bought two pairs of jeans and it was over. Nearly painless.

This morning, the 'chick returned to the mall for her annual eye exam. Her eye doctor is next to the Lenscrafters so she had to go back. The appointment was at 10:30 so parking wasn't too bad, or shouldn't have been since the mall opened at 10:00. Except.

Except that as the 'chick was cruising the parking lot, looking for a space reasonably close to the doors, a large Suburban decided it would be a good idea to turn down the aisle that the 'chick was in. It was a one way aisle. With the monster truck going the wrong direction. Fully expecting the 'chick to give 'way and back up. Obviously, they didn't know the 'chick.

Roadchick sat there patiently, chatting on her cell phone to Rockboy, and waited for the Suburban to realize the error of its ways. The Suburban, evidently thinking that size makes up for what is lacking in intellect, inched closer to Roadchick, trying to make her move.

Roadchick, almost Zen-like in her calm, put Payback into Park, and waited. Smiling gently.

The driver of the Suburban gestured to Roadchick. Just a friendly "Merry Christmas" wave, she is sure. Roadchick smiled and sipped her tall latte, still chatting to Rockboy.

Eventually, after a few minutes, the Suburban conceded defeat and backed out of the aisle, a sadder but wiser SUV.

After the eye exam was over (Roadchick's eye doctor totally ROCKS, y'all. Did you know that they don't have to dilate your eyes anymore? Now they do a really bright flash Polaroid instead. The 'chick asked for a copy for her fridge, but the girl evidently didn't think the 'chick was serious.) the 'chick wandered the mall for a few minutes.

Now, the 'chick is proud to say that until yesterday, she made it through the entire holiday season without setting foot in the mall. When exactly did they start pumping Pimp Spray through the HVAC system? The entire mall was full of this . . . scent. Yuck. Whatever it was gave the 'chick a headache and caused her eyes to burn which led to her finishing up her business and getting out of there as fast as possible.

What business, you ask?

A visit to TicketMaster for monster truck tickets. Skaterboy's birthday is coming up and in honor of the big day, all the Roadies are going to see the monster trucks. Because the 'chick has a bit of the gambler in her, she bought General Admission tickets. That, and they were $10 cheaper than assigned seating. She's willing to risk it.

As the 'chick walked back to her car, she noticed a rather large tow truck pulled up behind the Payback. For a moment, a brief moment, the 'chick thought that maybe the Suburban she had schooled earlier was having a moment of revenge but that wasn't it. The tow truck moved out of the way so the 'chick could back out. As she headed down the row, a driver came screeching towards her on the one way aisle, wanting her parking space. Fortunately for him, he moved to the right and left enough room for the 'chick to proceed because otherwise, she would have absolutely backed up and pulled into her parking space again.

Just because.

It's Boxing Day - Wanna Fight?

It's the day after Christmas & the 'chick hopes that yours was lovely. No, the title of the post has nothing to do with anything in the post except possibly down at the end. Maybe. Sort of.

For after Christmas giggles, the 'chick has been checking out her stats. This is an activity that can quickly become obsessive in Roadchickland so other than checking the numbers quickly, she tries not to indulge.

But.

Since she's not working this week, she took the time to dig a little deeper. The keyword searches have been cracking her up this morning. (And, it's better than taking down the Christmas tree or cleaning up little bits of shredded paper.)

Evidently, a LOT of people were struck with the urge to make Banana Pudding this holiday season. Why they came to Roadchick is not clear. She thought she had made it evident that she CANNOT make Banana Pudding. She even renamed it Nemesis Pudding. It is her Cooking Shame.

A lot of other people (relatives, evidently! Hi y'all!) wound up at the 'chick's site while looking for lyrics to "Merry Christmas from the Family". Those cousins wandered in with search terms that included:

extension cord chain smoking feliz
the typical american family Christmas, egg nog, margaritas, lights, cigarettes
redneck christmas with the family

Others have dropped in looking for cleaning squalor, squirrel pee, and Martha Stewart gift wrapping techniques.

Bless their little hearts. Probably never knew what hit them.

So, Christmas.

Redneck was very pleased with his giftages. The 'chick done good. For those of you following along, his well-thought-out gift was a chrome fire extinguisher for his show car. It was something he saw & mentioned wanting and then promptly forgot about it but the 'chick did not. His other gift was a Dremel tool. For some reason, most men seem to want one of those. The 'chick thinks it's the male equivalent of a KitchenAid mixer for the girls. We all want one, even if we're not sure what we're going to do with it once we have it.

Redneck's gifts to the 'chick proves that he knows her pretty well. There were four - one thing she wanted, one thing she needed, one thing that was funny (at least to the 'chick), and a little something extra. The thing she wanted was a bottle of her favorite perfume that she has to con others into buying for her because she would never spend that amount of money on herself. The thing she needed was a universal remote for the TV/DVD/VCR in her bedroom. Now one handy remote replaces the other three that didn't work half the time. The funny thing was a penguin that you fill up with candy, wind up, and he poops it back out. It matches the pooping sheep that she got at the beginning of the Christmas season. And, she got a candle that smells delicious. So, she was happy.

Christmas was at her brother's house where she proved yet again that Auntie Roadchick buys the best presents. Her niece and nephew demanded that those gifts be unpackaged immediately, much to the chagrin of the other relatives who spent a lot more. Christmas is a competition, y'all. Didn't you know that?

Much to Speedbump's dismay, her Christmas tree jungle gym will be coming down today.

Christmas evidently doesn't agree with Speedbump - she spent much of the day yesterday wandering around and meowing her head off. When she wasn't doing that, she was nested on boxes under the tree. If someone so much as reached for them, they were swatted with her foot.

Well, the 'chick has procrastinated as much as she can so it's time to do some work around the house and then maybe even go shopping. Rockboy's Christmas cash is burning a hole in his pocket and he wants to go to the mall. That ought to be fun. Not. If y'all don't hear from the 'chick soon, send a search party.

Roadchick's House of Kwistmas Kwazy

At Chez Roadtrip, it is not an uncommon occurrence (Y'all, the 'chick does not know if that word is spelled correctly. It doesn't look right no matter how she types it. Anyway.) for things to be left to the last possible minute.

The Christmas holidays are upon us.

Now, the 'chick has done her shopping. Mostly. She thinks. She Made A List (sort of). She's still in the Checking It Twice mode.

Did she buy enough? Did she forget anyone? Oh yeah, there was that last minute invite to Redneck's mama's house on Christmas Eve. What do you give to a woman that is an unknown entity for the most part, but that you would still like to impress? The 'chick does not know what she likes. She does not know what she dislikes. What about all the kiddos - are there enough giftages to satisfy? Does the dollar amount count versus the quantity? Do toddlers understand THAT ratio???

Roadchick and her two brothers chipped in and bought a new TV for the parental units only to find out last Sunday - ONE WEEK FROM THE DAY OF PRESENTATION - that the parental units had been out television shopping. Not only had they been out television shopping, they had somehow managed to wander into CompUSA (a store they NEVER go to since they do not own a computer) to look at the exact TV that was purchased for them and then completely dissed the television by saying that they really felt, for them, the picture on the Sony was far superior.

What do you do in a situation like that?

After a brief phone conference, it was decided that they're getting the TV that they don't like and if they really don't like it, they can return it and buy something else on their own time.

The parental units, as you may have gathered, Patient Reader, are very difficult to shop for. What do you buy for people who have everything and have enough money to buy whatever they want? Apparently, you buy them a TV that they don't like.

The 'chick valiantly offered to accept the TV as her Christmas gift, just to be helpful. She is not proud. Not a bit. Her offer was refused.

So, back to list checking: Redneck.

The 'chick put a little bit of thought into his gift and bought him something that he mentioned wishing he had but now she is wondering if that is enough. One gift. Granted, a well-thought-out gift. Mediumly expensive but not over the top. How much does one spend on a boyfriend of 4 and 1/2 months? Without appearing to be a freaking stalker who bribes with expensive gifts?

The 'chick is thinking she will pick up a small something-or-other to go with the "big" present. Is that enough? What? She does not know.

The other thing that she does not know is what he got for her. She knows that there is a gift because he called her on Monday afternoon when she was on her way to his house. He called to let her know that he was stuck in Midtown traffic because he had had to go to work to pick up the tracking number for her stupid Christmas present that the FedEx guy had tried to re-deliver after being told to put it on hold at the depot and Redneck would pick it up. Redneck was afraid that it would be sent back, so he drove into the city on his day off. The 'chick asked him what was in her stupid Christmas present but he wouldn't say. And then today, he said that she could not go Christmas shopping with him on Saturday because, well, because. Now, y'all, that clearly indicates multiple giftages.

There is more shopping in her future. Sigh.

And then, there's the baking. The 'chick likes to bake so maybe it won't be such a chore. She was assigned dessert for the Christmas feasties at her brother's house. She knows that she won't be taking Nemesis Pudding. She just doesn't know what she will take. She's voting for something chocolate, but then some people want "something light" to which she was tempted to reply: then suck wind; but she didn't.

Admire Roadchick for her restraint at the holidays.

Christmas cards? They were a no-go this year. Some years she sends them, some years she doesn't. This was a doesn't year. It keeps the relatives on their toes.

Y'all will be proud to know that the Christmas tree is up. It was doubtful but apparently a Holiday Bug bit her butt on the way home Tuesday so she came home, hauled out the tree, and up it went.

On Wednesday, Roadchick and Rockboy came home to find that Speedbump had climbed up INSIDE the tree (as usual) and had dismantled the entire front half of the tree. It took 15 minutes to put it all back to rights.

On Thursday, Roadchick and Rockboy came home to find that Speedbump had climbed up INSIDE the tree (as usual) and had dismantled the entire right side of the tree. It took 10 minutes to put it all back to rights.

On Friday, Roadchick and Rockboy fully expect to come home to find that Speedbump has dismantled some other side of the tree and fully expect to spend a minimum of 10 minutes putting it back to rights.

The good news is that Roadchick wisely used the glass ball ornaments this year and Speedbump hasn't really messed with them. Apparently they are too hard to carry to her water dish.

It's gonna be busy around Chez Roadtrip over the next few days, so here's hoping that y'all enjoy the holidays with the ones you love best.

Merry Christmas! And God bless us, every one.

From
Roadchick, Redneck, Rockboy & Speedbump

Two Rights, Make A Left

HEY!

What are y'all doing here?

The 'chick is at Cardiac Fantasies today.

C'mon over & see what the 'chick found hidden under the mattress . . .

House-Sitting

Michael, at Cardiac Fantasies, has invited the 'chick to be a guest blogger.

He's got an entire week of housesitters over there, so be sure to check it out!

Mist1, Fringes, the 'chick, KB (Strange Occurances), and Briliant Donkey will all be at the house party, so stop by & we'll raid Michael's liquor cabinet when he's not looking.

The 'chick is in charge on December 21st, so be sure to mark your calendars.

You Want Hot Wax With That?

The 'chick came in from work this evening and was thinking of YOU, Patient Reader. Thinking that she really needed to post something new to move that rambling mess from a couple of days ago on down the list. Something funny, something interesting, hell, just SOMETHING!

So, she was thinking about her day today - did anything interesting happen? Well, no, not really. Did a few visits, nothing out of the ordinary. So, what to say?

Then, the 'chick started thinking about what she did this morning, to kill some time between visits. The 'chick's car was a dirty, dirty girl and desperately needeed a bath. The nastiness level exceeded what a drive-through car wash would handle so it was going to mean the 'chick doing the job herself, to make sure that the car was actually clean.

To the car wash!

The 'chick pulled into one of the bays and headed to the change machine for a handful of quarters. So far, so good.

It's been awhile since the 'chick has used one of these car washes, so she studied up on the directions. There are about 4000 choices of settings but the 'chick made a selection and plugged in the quarters. The tire soak thing didn't seem to be working, but whatever - she'd just get it with the brush. So, she followed the brush directions and sprayed the soapy stuff (on the "Spray nozzle soapy stuff" setting) over the car - she thought. It was kind of soapy, but not what she expected. There was, however, a large pile of soapy foam on the floor under the brush. When she changed the dial to the "Foamy brush" setting, it sort-of worked, but not really. Precious time was ticking away, so the 'chick went for it anyway and washed the car off, saving the tires for last. Washing complete, and after plugging in MORE quarters, the chick switched it to "High Powered Rinse" and promptly blew MORE soap onto the car. Grrr. Ok, switch to "Spot Free Rinse" and this only produced a slightly less foamy spray. Rinsing, rinsing, rinsing, determined to not use more quarters.

At THIS point, Patient Reader, the 'chick came to the conclusion that a jokester - a funny, funny person, had most likely yanked the knob off and put it back in an alternate position so that no matter what you thought you were going to do, it wasn't going to work out for you. The 'chick was out of patience and nearly out of quarters so she gave it up and figured that since she had gottem most of the yuck off, she would just run it through the automatic car wash next door and finish it up, making sure that whatever she had sprayed on the car last was all washed away.

So, car dripping and slightly soapy still, she pulled up to the automatic wash and put in some money. It ATE the money and still wanted more. No way, uh uh. The 'chick went to the cashier and demanded he either give back her money or make the car wash turn on. He handed her the money. Grrr. So, the 'chick just drove really, really fast to blow off the remaining bubbles and called it good. (There really wasn't much soap on the car but it seemed like it at the time.)

This got the 'chick to thinking about her car. Well, more specifically, her car's name. For, yes, the 'chick's car has a name. And her name is Payback.

Why Payback, you ask?

There are two reasons, well, actually three. The first reason is because Payback is a bitch. The second reason is because this car (a 2003 Monte Carlo) is the 'chick's first "Big Girl" car. She picked it out, test drove it, and bought it on her own. No men involved. No husband, no dad, no brothers. No extra input. No one telling her, "Roadchick, you don't want that car." All hers. Her choice. What she wanted. Hers. And the third reason is because in several Kid Rock songs, he talks about "Payback" as in: Looking for the Payback. The 'chick loves Kid Rock and it's a little secret just between The Kid and the 'chick. And now, you, Patient Reader, but don't tell anyone, ok?

It's funny because the 'chick has not named anything else - not her washer or dryer, not her fridge, not anything else inanimate. People ask about the name - because it's on the rear side windows - and some understand and some don't, but that's ok because the 'chick and Payback DO understand.

What about you, Patient Reader? Have you named anything inanimate? (The 'chick does NOT want to know that you've named your boobs Skip and Flippy or anything else....on your body. That falls under TMI and violators will be mocked, publically.)

A Tuesday In The Life . . .

Today was the Christmas party at work. It's held during work hours so no alcohol or Xeroxing of the butt going on. What does that have to do with this post? Who knows? It was just something to tell y'all.

Rockboy has a wicked cold and the 'chick, while a loving and concerned mama, is not nearly so loving and concerned that she wants him to pass it on to her. Especially not with the holidays coming up.

Especially since the agency she works for is CLOSED for the week between Christmas and New Year's. This does not come out of vacation time - it's just a lovely gift from the directors. Roadchick LOVES her job. She loves her directors.

Today, life is good in Roadchickland.

She's been surfing around the 'net, checking out what other bloggers have had to say about the Six Weird Things meme that was making the rounds. Michael & the 'chick share the "Don't disrupt the routine" weirdness. Autrice & the 'chick both agree that they HATE the little cardboard subscription cards that come stuffed in magazines. The 'chick did not list that out as one of her weirdnesses but it's definitely one of them. She will absolutely shake the hell out of her magazines to dislodge the loose ones and then go through them and yank out any that are attached. Why? No idea. It is what it is. The 'chick does not really have many food phobia-weirdnesses other than the liver thing & the no crumbs/sticky hands thing. She does not mind if her food touches on the plate, she does not eat all of one thing before starting on another & she's pretty willing to try new foods with one exception - never, ever, unless it is disguised as something else (and she does not see how that is possible) will she ever eat chittlins. Never. Ever.

The day before Thanksgiving break (and the 'chick's Thanksgiving breakdown), her boss took a group from the office to lunch as a little pre-celebration. They went to Sitar in Nashville for Indian food. The 'chick has eaten Indian food before and liked it but was somewhat put off of it by the fact that she smelled of curry for a day or two afterward. Nevertheless, she went. And y'all - it was delicious. And apparently that curry smell that she could smell was only in her head because no one else was giving her looks and wondering why she left her sari at home. Yum. Yum. It's been drifting through the 'chick's thoughts since then and another visit is not too far in her future. Because - yum.

Why all this about food? No idea - the 'chick ate enough to where she really should not have to eat until sometime next week.

Redneck update: He is feeling much better and is back at work. The 'chick has to say - he was a good patient for the most part so she cannot complain.

You know how there are some people that you just don't want to deal with when they are sick or recovering from surgery because they whine or require a lot of attention? Redneck is not one of those. This is a good thing because the 'chick loses patience very quickly with people that require that level of dancing attention.

Roadchick's mother is a dancing-attention type patient. There is moaning and groaning and praying out loud to the Virgin Mary to help her. There are moans and prayers in Lithuanian, which Roadchick's mother speaks fluently. When the Lithuanian starts, it means that she is Very Ill Indeed. There is hand-fluttering and martyred looks. Hushed whispers. Misery. Misery to all. There is no one in all the world that can pay enough attention to her when she is sick. She must be coaxed to eat and take her pills. She must be coaxed to make an effort to remain in the world of the living.

Now, y'all are thinking one of two things or possibly both: 1) Roadchick, you're a mean bitch of a daughter ~OR~ 2) Your mother cannot possibly be that bad and we all know how you exaggerate.

Trust the 'chick on this one - it's no exaggeration and while the 'chick is a mean bitch, she does manage to keep her claws sheathed most of the time.

When the 'chick comes down with something or requires recovery time, she usually prefers to be left alone for the most part. She does not want dancing attention. She likes it when, at decent intervals, if someone is home, they offer her a drink or something to eat. Or possibly volunteer to make a trip to the video rental place. Other than that - she'd rather be left alone. This may be in direct relation to the 'chick NOT wanting to be a bother to anyone under any circumstances.

In completely unrelated news, and amazing to the 'chick, it's coming up on SIX years since she got divorced from the Now-Former-Mr.-Roadchick. Wow. When she looks back on the person that she was when she was married compared to the person that she is now - it blows her mind. There could not be two more different people inhabiting the same body unless one is named Sybil. Night and day. People that know the 'chick would probably agree.

Lawd, this post has been all over the place and will probably earn a spot in Wikipedia under "stream of consciousness". Whatever popped into her mind came out on the page.

Do y'all ever try to backtrack through your thoughts or conversations? For example, at some point in a conversation, you think to yourself, "How on earth did we get to talking about XYZ?" and then backtrack to figure out how you went from talking about the best place to get a BBQ sandwich to which suburb has the best schools. This is not something that is a regular occurance in the 'chick's thought process but it does happen sometimes. Maybe that should've been on her weird list.

Thank you for being so patient and making it to the end of this incredibly rambling post through the dusty corners of the 'chick's mind. Scary in there, isn't it?

Because It's All About Meme

Lawd.

Briliant Donkey evidently tagged the 'chick for this meme - and FORGOT to tell her - and left her to discover it on her own.

Here are the rules: Each player of this game starts with the "6 Weird Things about You." People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says 'you are tagged' in their comments and tell them to read your blog!"

Six Weird Things About The 'Chick:

1. Roadchick absolutely CANNOT stand to have crumbs on her hands. Ditto anything sticky. It gives her the shrieking creeps and she will remove the offending substance with whatever is closest whether that be a dishcloth, papertowel, or even her jeans. Or yours. It does not matter.

2. Roadchick is a creature of habit. Disrupt the habit without her permission and she will freak out. The severity of the freakout is directly correlated with how much you've messed with her routine.

3. Roadchick cannot say "flat panel" as in flat panel TV. It always, every time, comes out as "flat planel". Without fail.

4. Roadchick is ambidextrous. She writes with her left hand but uses scissors with her right. There are a variety of activities that she can do with either hand like bowling, throwing a ball, using a knife (for cooking, of course). She mouses very well with her right hand.

5. Roadchick does not like it if she buys a magazine or newspaper and someone attempts to read it before she gets to it. It makes her crazy.

6. Roadchick cannot eat liverwurst or any form of a liver product. When she was a wee chick, she loved it on white bread with Miracle Whip. Her mother fed it to her too soon after a bout of stomach 'flu and she has never touched it again. She cannot even look at it. Writing about it makes her slightly queasy.

There are probably a great many other weird things about the 'chick but it's funny, y'all - what is weird to one seems perfectly normal to another.

Now for the tagging - Tinker, Pacian, Kim G., Autrice - consider yourselves tagged. No, it's not six others, but hey, there you go.

Nemesis Pudding - The Recipe

Leonie put in a request for the recipe for all the non-American readers out there. So, Leonie, here you go. The 'chick wishes you much luck with your pudding and more success with your custard than she has been able to manage.

Note to non-American Readers: Nilla Wafers (in case they don't have 'em where you are) are a plain, vanilla flavored cookie/biscuit. No chips, nuts, cream filling. Nothing extra. Feel free to substitute. The 'chick is thinking that little shortbreads would be DELICIOUS. Yum.

Enjoy!

Original Nilla Banana Pudding

Ready in: 60 mins.

Layers of Nilla wafers, creamy pudding and fresh banana slices
are the stars of this American classic.

3/4 cup sugar, divided
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
Dash salt
3 eggs, separated
2 cups milk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
45 NILLA Wafers, divided
5 ripe bananas, sliced (about 3 1/2 cups), divided
Additional NILLA Wafers and banana slices, for garnish


1. Mix 1/2 cup sugar, flour and salt in top of double boiler.
Blend in 3 egg yolks and milk. Cook, uncovered, over boiling water,
stirring constantly for 10 to 12 minutes or until thickened. Remove
from heat; stir in vanilla.

2. Reserve 10 wafers for garnish. Spread small amount of custard
on bottom of 1 1/2-quart casserole; cover with a layer of wafers
and a layer of sliced bananas. Pour about 1/3 of custard over
bananas. Continue to layer wafers, bananas and custard to make
a total of 3 layers of each, ending with custard.

3. Beat egg whites until soft peaks form; gradually add remaining
1/4 cup sugar and beat until stiff but not dry. Spoon on top of
pudding, spreading evenly to cover entire surface and sealing well
to edges.

4. Bake at 350°F in top half of oven for 15 to 20 minutes or
until browned. Cool slightly or refrigerate. Garnish with
additional wafers and banana slices just before serving.

Makes 8 servings

NUTRITIONAL INFORMATION per serving
287 calories, 6 g protein, 50 g carbohydrate, 7 g total fat,
2 g saturated fat, 117 mg cholesterol, 134 mg sodium,
1 g dietary fiber.

Preparation Time: 30 mins.
Cook Time: 15 mins.
Cooling Time: 15 mins.
Total Time: 60 mins.

_________________________________________________________

This recipe courtesy of Back of the Box Recipes.
www.backofthebox.com Home Page

This recipe created by Nabisco.

The Winner and Still Champeen - Banana Pudding

Well, y'all, it's been a busy week in Roadchick's world. Isn't it always though?

Work has been busy, the holidays are upon us, and Redneck had a fun-filled trip to the oral surgeon on Friday afternoon. The 'chick went along as the designated driver and post-surgical babysitter. Fun, y'all. Loads of it.

The spirit of grinchiness has lifted slightly at Chez Roadtrip - some holiday shopping has been done. There has been no decorating though.

There were years in Roadchick's past when Christmas meant weeks of preparation and baking and shopping and decorating. It looked like the North Pole vomited on the 'chick's house. There was one year that there were THREE Christmas trees. One upstairs, in the den, one downstairs in the "good" living room, and a small, tinselly tree in the dining room that held the 'chick's much-loved collection of vintage ornaments.

Cookies were baked almost daily. Why, she does not know since everyone was sick to death of them long before the Day ever arrived. Too much of a good thing, evidently.

Much time was taken selecting just the "right" card. The "right" wrapping paper. On and on, ad nauseum.

Now, it's simpler. Gifts are still purchased and a tree might actually make an appearance although right now it's doubtful. Speedbump-The-Cat absolutely loves the Christmas trees and takes every opportunity to climb up inside them. It's a little startling when the tree starts moving on its own and then suddenly! a kitty head pops out somewhere around where the angel should be. The angel is no longer there because for some unknown reason, Speedbump routinely takes anything she can carry in her mouth to her water bowl and dumps it in. Whether she thinks she is giving the object a drink or killing it is not clear. What is clear is that decades of handmade & gifted ornaments all wound up getting a bath and that vexed the 'chick to no end.

This weekend, the 'chick is still on babysitter duty. She's not working the night shift though. Redneck is safely tucked into his beddy-byes, dosed up with narcotics, and sleeping peacefully. The 'chick will return in the morning and see how he's doing.

You wouldn't think a day of sitting on the couch, watching satellite TV would wear one out, but it does! There was some cooking involved too but not enough to keep the 'chick energized at all.

Time for a confession, y'all. This afternoon, the 'chick made a banana pudding for Redneck. Banana pudding, for those unfamiliar with it, is a Southern staple of life. It is NOT banana-flavored pudding from a box. It is vanilla wafers and homemade custard and sliced bananas and meringue. It is heaven in a Corningware bake dish.

It is the 'chick's nemesis.

The 'chick can cook. She can amaze her family and friends. She gets asked for recipes where none exists. She can bake a cake from scratch, not a mix.

She cannot, for the life of her, get the damned pudding to THICKEN as she stirs it in the double-boiler. She gets lovely custard of a liquid consistency that is suitable for eggnog or boiled custard. She does not get custard that thickens nicely to hold together the bananas and Nilla wafers.

The first time or two that it happened, she figured it was a quirk. An oddity.

She has conceded defeat.

She made a banana pudding today. It tastes good but looks like ass. The custard, as usual, did not thicken. It floated around the sliced banana and Nilla wafers like lovely vanilla soup. It continues to float around the banana and Nilla wafers like lovely vanilla soup. Except the bananas? Well, y'all know how bananas are, right? Like avocados, when they are exposed to the air, they blacken? Yeah. Without that protective layer of THICKENED custard, the bananas look like a science experiment gone wrong. A biological project in the fridge. A pastry petri dish.

It may have put Redneck off banana pudding for life. Or it will, when he opens the fridge and sees that mess in there. She admitted to him that evidently, she cannot make a banana pudding. He was stunned by this admission. He has seen the 'chick cook. He has been impressed by her mad skillz in the kitchen. He nearly wept with joy at her potato soup and slow-cooked Chinese pork.

It's shameful, y'all, and the 'chick does not know how to fix it. Little granny women with wood-burning stoves can make banana pudding, for pete's sake!

Anyway, that is what the 'chick did today. Hopefully YOUR day was more entertaining.

Empress, for a Day

Yeah, it's lazy & it's cheating, but haven't YOU always wanted to know which Tarot card you are? (Thanks to Michael at Cardiac Fantasies for the link.)

The 'chick will return with a real entry soon, pinky swear!

You are The Empress

Beauty, happiness, pleasure, success, luxury, dissipation.

The Empress is associated with Venus, the feminine planet, so it represents,
beauty, charm, pleasure, luxury, and delight. You may be good at home
decorating, art or anything to do with making things beautiful.

The Empress is a creator, be it creation of life, of romance, of art or business. While the Magician is the primal spark, the idea made real, and the High Priestess is the one who gives the idea a form, the Empress is the womb where it gestates and grows till it is ready to be born. This is why her symbol is Venus, goddess of beautiful things as well as love. Even so, the Empress is more Demeter, goddess of abundance, then sensual Venus. She is the giver of Earthly gifts, yet at the same time, she can, in anger withhold, as Demeter did when her daughter, Persephone, was kidnapped. In fury and grief, she kept the Earth barren till her child was returned to her.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

Thank You

To everyone that sent good thoughts - thank you so much. It means a lot to know that people have got your back.

Please allow the 'chick to apologize for the week of grim posts and dreary news. Overall, life is good. She has no idea where these panic attacks come from or why they come. Usually.

This time, the culprit is the holidays.

There was a time that the holidays were magic and sparkly snowflakes and prancing reindeer. The 'chick is not sure when those disappeared. Well, not completely. But telling that tale would be depressing and ENOUGH of that.

Today, Redneck and Roadchick went to a Christmas parade in a small town not too far from Nashville. Ya gotta love a parade where the 4H kids are on a float, the local high school marching band comes out to perform, there are horses and fire trucks and customized cars and kids in go-karts. There are church groups and politicians. And of course, there is Santa Claus.

Most of the participants threw candy to the kids lining the street and everyone was waving and yelling "Merry Christmas". And you know, they actually meant it.

Redneck and Roadchick stood by the side of the road, sipping hot chocolate and waving to the kids in the parade. They helped Roadchick's niece and nephew pick up candy from the street.

And it was a good day, y'all. No panic in sight.

So thanks again for the good thoughts. They must have helped.

Sunday Scribblings: In The Last Hour

In the last hour, the 'chick has been fighting off a panic attack like you would not believe.

For a Friday, it's been a horrible, god-awful day.

If the moon wasn't visible, you'd swear it was full.

One of the 'chick's co-workers lost her mind, went off on another co-worker and quit. Then changed her mind and still resigned but decided to stay until either the end of December or the end of January - the 'chick is unsure of the details.

Another co-worker had a run-in with the director of a day program. Insanity.

The holidays are looming.

Traffic was hideous.

Rockboy's band is playing at some party and no one seems to have the address where they are to play. He's promised to call back soon with the address but that is not nearly cut and dried enough to comfort a mama's panicking mind.

Redneck is still struggling with dental problems and doesn't feel good. He's not answering his phone. The 'chick is not sure if he's going to appear tonight or not.

She really, really hopes so because tonight is one of those nights when she desperately needs to just curl up and be held. Hopefully it'll work out. She doesn't need anyone to solve her problems - she just wants to close her eyes for a little while and know it's ok.

Because, y'all, it sure doesn't feel like it right now.