Road Food

Heather tagged the 'chick for the local food meme, and since it was easier than coming up with an entry on her own, the 'chick is playing along.

1. Add a direct link to your post below the name of the person who tagged you. Include the city/state and country you’re in.
Nicole (Sydney, Australia)
velverse (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia)
LB (San Giovanni in Marignano, Italy)
Selba (Jakarta, Indonesia)
Olivia (London, England)
ML (Utah, USA)
Lotus (Toronto, Canada)
tanabata (Saitama, Japan)
Andi (Dallas [ish], Texas, United States)
Todd (Louisville, Kentucky, United States)
miss kendra (los angeles, california, u.s.a)
Jiggs Casey (Berkeley, CA, USA! USA! USA!)
Tits McGee (New England, USA)
Kat (Ontario, Canada)
Cheezy (London, England)
Paula (Orange County, California, U.S.)
Jeff (Colorado, USA)
Fringes (around Houston, US)
Tera (Somewhere In KY by way of OH, USA)
heather (upstate new york, usa)
Roadchick (Nashville, TN, USA)

2. List your top five local eating places.

1. Waffle House. At least once per weekend. Open 24 hrs. No additional charge for the floor show.

2. River View Restaurant & Marina (no link available). Located on the Cumberland River in Ashland City, TN, this place serves some of the best catfish the 'chick has ever eaten. Their marina is also where the river tour boat docks for a 90 minute sightseeing cruise of the Cumberland River. Good times, y'all.

3. Sitar. The BEST Indian restaurant in Nashville. The chicken tikka masala makes the 'chick weep with gratitude. The firni (flavored custard milk pudding with pistachios and almonds) and kheer (rice pudding flavored with cardamom) is the perfect ending to a blazing hot meal.

4. Olive Garden. Yeah, it's a chain. But when you're needing some Italian comfort food, there's nothing better. The salad and breadsticks are delicious. It's a carb-fest and the 'chick is not ashamed, damn it!

5. Frank's Hamburger (no link available). Located in Clarksville, TN, Frank's was knocked flat during a tornado that hit downtown Clarksville. Frank was discovered by rescue teams still in the destroyed restaurant, sitting on a box, drinking a cup of coffee. Local business owners could not contemplate a world without Frank's and donated the money to rebuild. This is possibly one of the best cheeseburgers ever. Nothing fancy here - sit at the counter, order, eat, and get the hell out because the doors close at 2 p.m. But it's a tradition, and you should partake of traditions whenever you can.

The 'chick is not going to tag anyone, but if you're interested in joining the herd, feel free. Let the 'chick know in comments so she can come check out where YOU like to eat.

Shameful!

Darlings, Auntie Roadchick has been neglecting you and she knows it. She has the shame and embarrassment over her lack of communication. Of course she has wonderful reasons for her absence, but the truth of the matter is - the 'chick has sucked lately at keeping her little corner of Blogistan updated and current.

To those that have wondered - yes, Rockboy is alive and well and even manages to escape his closet from time to time. He took Girlfriend to the prom a couple of weekends ago and footed the bill for the whole excursion. The 'chick took him to pick up his tux at the rental place and he went into the cubicle to try it on. Apparently the person that measured him had just come back from his afternoon crack break because the pants were three inches too small in the waist. This led the tux man to inform the 'chick that new pants could be delivered but it would be late in the afternoon before they arrived. Needless to say, the 'chick did not accept this news very well. Not very well at all. And led to discussions (somewhat heated on the 'chick's part) regarding time factors and discounts and just generally losing her rabbit-ass mind in full view of the tuxedo-renting public. Redneck had wisely decided to just stay at home and have a nap while the 'chick ran this little errand. He was torn between being glad he missed it and hating the fact that he missed it. He should know by now - nap in the car. You never know what might happen.

Redneck took the 'chick to the Renaissance Festival last weekend and a good time was had by all. The 'chick is not one to dress up in a costume, mainly because she is too cheap to buy one - a gorgeous little number was for sale - for $568.00. Shoes not included. But there was shopping and eating and watching the entertainers and talking to different people and taking pictures (still in the camera) and betting on the joust. Fun times.

Always several weeks behind the times, (writing about the Ren Fest reminded her) - wasn't it so cool that the Queen of England was at the Kentucky Derby? Kid Rock was also at the Kentucky Derby. Roadchick plans on being at the Kentucky Derby next year.

The Job has been absolutely insane. Off-the-chain crazy. People getting fired, people quitting, people getting pregnant and planning maternity leaves (no, not the 'chick although it looks like that might be the ONLY way she is going to GET a vacation this year) . . . so far this month, the 'chick has driven approximately 4 gazillion miles between three different offices.

And, on the homefront, there is something very seriously wrong.

If you eating, you may want to skip this part.

The 'chick has been doing Spring Cleaning.

Why? There is no good answer for that. Possibly in preparation to paint the walls some other color than "Resale White". The 'chick and Rockboy have lived in this house for 6 years. It's time to paint.

The painter man came over on Tuesday to give the 'chick an estimate on painting the living room and front hallway. The living room has 14 foot ceilings that the 'chick can't reach which is why she wants someone with tall ladders to do it.

The cost?

$900.00 and three days.

After picking her jaw up off the floor, the 'chick declined. It does NOT take three days. After the first day, the other two days will be spent watching cable and checking out what's in the fridge, freezer, pantry, and the 'chick's "special" drawer. And for $900.00, there had better be a hot dinner on the table when the 'chick gets home.

And it better be served by someone a whole lot more attractive than painter man.

Manic Monday

The Universe is trying the 'chick's patience today.

Things that shouldn't be that big of a deal are causing the 'chick to grit her teeth and take many, many deep breaths to clear the red fog of rage that is threatening to erupt and kill the Stupid Ones.

The State requested information to follow up on some things found during a routine review of a client's chart. This is a standard happening and not a big deal. The 'chick responded, because that is her job.

One issue that was raised regarded hearing loss.

An extensive, sedated hearing test was performed. Diagnosis? Neural hearing loss. No response to stimuli.

The State, in its infinite wisdom, emailed the 'chick back.

"Does this mean that nothing can be done?"

The 'chick's imagined response: Nothing can be done unless the Lord Jesus comes down from heaven and lays hands upon the client. He is deaf. As the previous response very clearly stated.

The 'chick's real response was nicer and kinder and involved a lot of technical jargon.

The 'chick's imagined response was much more direct and to-the-point.

Idiots, just lookin' for death.

Fiddlin' on a Friday

Sorry about the over-lappage on the sidebar, but the snow leopard is so seriously tough that the 'chick decided to leave it alone.

You can click on the picture and it will take you to the movie's website where you can discover your own daemon. The 'chick didn't know anything at all about this movie until she clicked on someone else's daemon, but now she is ridiculously excited that this movie is coming out in December.

Still busy as hell for work.

Still exhausted and so, so glad it's Friday.

Rockboy's prom is tomorrow so there will be festivities for the prom-going couple. He rented a tux (with his OWN money) and bought girlfriend a corsage (with his OWN money).

Roadchick and Redneck are hoping for a quiet weekend, hopefully spent watching movies and just relaxing for awhile. Oh wait - that falls into the BORING category, but to be honest, boring is all that the 'chick has energy for right now. It's entirely possible that a med adjustment is needed because the last time she was this tired, it turned out her thyroid was out of whack and she needed to start taking some meds. Well, that kind of fell into the TMI category, didn't it?

Here's hoping you have a fabulous weekend, no matter what you choose to do.

Typhoid Michael

Michael, over at
Cardiac Fantasies, has come down with pneumonia. Pneumonia good enough to land him in the hospital for a little vacation.

Y'all send him a little love & good wishes.

Michael, if they break out the "good" drugs, you'd better call the 'chick.

Or else.

Roadchick's Last Name

Dear Patient Reader:

Yes, Roadchick has a last name, just like the Oscar Mayer jingle says. And, apparently, her last name is BORING.

Some of it can be attributed to spring fever. Some of it falls into the category of: Insanely Busy at Work. Unfortunately, most of it is due to her last name.

Roadchick is boring.

Roadchick didn't used to be boring. Past blog posts attest to that. She used to be witty and fun and amusing. There was always something going on. Sometimes it was even legal.

Now?

Now, Roadchick is the equivalent of an old married lady without the old or married part. Being in a relationship has evidently (somewhat) tamed the 'chick. Roadchick and Redneck have settled into a routine of sorts, and it's comfortable and they like it and are too lazy to bother changing it much since everyone is happy.

There is . . . ~gasp~ stability.

And, boringness.

Maybe now that the weather has improved, Redneck and Roadchick will be getting out a little bit more. Maybe something interesting will happen. Maybe.

The suggestion box is open.

Breaking News

Not Dead

Just hideously busy for work, y'all.

Back soon - pinky swear!

Signalling for Jesus

Roadchick's job involves a lot of time on the road. The novelty of this wore off a long time ago, so the 'chick has developed some strategies to amuse herself during a day spent in the car.

Books on CD are good for the longer drives. Interrupting other people's work days with cell phone calls provides some amusement. Singing along with music CDs can provide some welcome distraction. And, the 'chick loves billboards and bumper stickers.

The other day, while sitting in traffic at a stop light, the 'chick was checking out the bumper stickers on the cars around her. Lots of George Bush lovers and haters. Lots of honor students. One woman's bumper sticker proclaimed she loved her weiner.

At the next light, a different car was in front of the 'chick. His bumper sticker invited the 'chick to "Honk if she loved Jesus".

Since it was so close to Easter, and being in a rather holy frame of mind, the 'chick cheerfully honked her horn.

The driver immediately stuck his arm out the window and flipped her off.

The 'chick is getting a bumper sticker that says: You're Making Baby Jesus Cry.

Nigella . . . Bites

Roadchick is a FoodTV addict. Until a couple of weeks ago, the only time she could feed this addiction was at Redneck's house, since the 'chick absolutely refuses to pay for "good" cable. While her "basic" cable package includes 20 channels, including all the church and shopping one could hope for, it does not include FoodTV.

One afternoon, for no good reason whatsoever, the 'chick decided it would be a good idea to re-program her TV channels. Why? Perhaps the muse of FoodTV was whispering in her ear. As the TV flashed through all the channels the 'chick knew she had: 2 through 22, church and shopping at no extra charge, the 'chick wandered off to get a drink.

When she came back, the TV was finished with whatever it does to re-program channels. Just for giggles, the 'chick clicked her way through, one channel at a time. The channels did not stop at 22. They jumped from 22 to 78. On channel 78, Rachel Ray was busy working her way through a 30-Minute Meal. The 'chick sat down.

Two hours later, she got up. All her old friends were back: Rachel, Paula, Alton, Emeril. (The 'chick is on a first name basis. You understand.)

Rockboy was ecstatic. Rockboy knows that when his mama watches FoodTV, there will be meals. Roadchick will cook things. From scratch. Voluntarily.

On Easter Sunday, while the 'chick was cooking dinner for 14 people, Nigella Lawson came on at noon. Usually, at noon on Sunday, the 'chick is having breakfast with Redneck, or on her way somewhere - far away from the TV.

Nigella, with her delightful English accent, was explaining her concept of "Temple Food". Basically, what this meant was eating healthy, lightly cooked foods, mostly of Vietnamese or Thai recipes. Lots of fruit. Lots of vegetables.

It is entirely Nigella's fault that the 'chick stopped at the grocery store on her way home from work last night, to buy the following:

*apples
*carrots
*cucumbers
*celery
*yogurt (Sidenote: If you have a Publix nearby - RUN to the dairy department and buy some honey almond yogurt. Words cannot describe how delicious it is.)

It is also entirely Nigella's fault that the 'chick fully intends to consume at least one container of yogurt while reclining in a bath, lit by candles.

Not to worry, Patient Reader. This fad will only last as long as it takes to consume the lot - a few days. By then, Ace of Cakes will be on and the 'chick will be under the impression that she is actually a pastry chef.

Let them eat cake!

We Are Honored

Apparently what it takes to get the 'chick to actually sit down and WRITE a post are gifts and awards. The gifts have been a little slow in coming, but Autrice did send a little bit of Award Love to the 'chick.

So, without further ado, the 'chick is getting her homework done. The nominees, in no particular order are: (Feel free to put yourself first on the list if the 'chick hasn't - web pages are only so wide, ya know!)

Cardiac Fantasies is always a thought provoking site. Michael is not afraid to explore the darker side of his personality and share it with the Innernets. He's also always willing to play along, whether it's collaborating on a post (the Venus/Mars thing), inviting guest bloggers, and generally causing mayhem in the blogosphere.

Pacian is a blogger that the 'chick met while doing Sunday Scribblings. He has a flair for writing really killer sci-fi as well as some amazing posts about astronomy and space. There are times when the 'chick is visiting his blog that she thinks that she might not be quite intelligent enough to be hanging with the smart kids (but that doesn't stop her from trying to copy their homework).

Fringes always has something to say and she's not afraid to say it. She has a flair for writing the things that the 'chick winds up pondering long after she's away from the computer.

Heather is relatively new to the blogosphere but is already making a name for herself both through her blog and as a host (hostess??) on Bice's internet talk radio show.

Mist is hysterially funny and generally makes the 'chick think that she's not as good at this writing thing as she thinks she is. Mist looks at things with a definite twist, and always has shoes to match.


The origin of the Thinking Blog can be found here.

The participation rules are simple:

1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think.

2. Link to Ilker so that people can easily find the origin of the meme.

3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote. Silver version / Gold Version

Swash THIS Buckle

My pirate name is:

Iron Jenny Read

A pirate's life isn't easy; it takes a tough person. That's okay with you, though, since you are a tough person. Even though many pirates have a reputation for not being the brightest souls on earth, you defy the stereotypes. You've got taste and education. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network

Don't Walk - Run!

Living in Nashville, one has the opportunity to attend many music-related events. This is the week of Tin Pan South, a songwriter's festival that occurs annually here in the Music City. This is the 15th year this event has taken place.

At the risk of being labelled a hater, let the 'chick take a moment to admit that she just doesn't get it. The 'chick likes music. She likes live music. She has attended many, many concerts. But she doesn't get why people like to go and hear the people that wrote the songs sing them. They have musical ability and can play guitar and have good voices. But usually, they are the ones that never quite made it to the spotlight. They are the ones who write the songs that make the whole world sing but they're not the ones singing them.

On Tuesday night, the 'chick attended one of the sessions with a group of friends. It was in a bar - always a good thing for these events. There were familiar faces and the 'chick always likes being recognized. So far, so good.

Then the singing started.

There were three women and one man up on the stage. Each of them took turns showcasing different songs they had written and even recorded on the type of CDs that you have to buy at the event because you can't find them anywhere else. The man was excellent. One of his songs was funny, several were poignant - overall, just fine.

One of the women only sang songs about relationships gone wrong. She did finally figure out that the only common demoninator in all her failed relationships was her, but at the cost of the 'chick's sanity.

The other pair of women were a songwriting "group" and their songs all seemed to involve children and angels and puppies and kittens. The contrast between all the sweetness and light and the "he done me wrong" songs from the other female made the 'chick's head spin.

She turned her attention to the crowd instead. Seated at a table close by, there was a young blonde woman in jeans. Seated directly behind her was an older gentleman who, at first glance, appeared to be her father. It was her date.

Blonde woman was exhibiting the signs well-known to women everywhere of "leave me the hell alone - if you're hanging on me, I can't pick up that hot cowboy at the bar." Daddy wasn't getting the hint and actually followed Blondie to the bathroom.

This amused the 'chick to no end and she made sure to point it out for the viewing pleasure of everyone in the group.

As the evening drew to a close and the "done me wrong" singer finished her set, she chose the perfect song: You just can't walk away from a love like ours.

Judging from how fast Blondie was moving, apparently you can't walk away, but you sure as hell can run.

Goodwill Hunting

A new Goodwill store has opened a few blocks from the 'chick's house. Normally, members of the Roadtrip household are not much on shopping at thrift stores except for books or things like that. Digging through racks of previously worn clothing does not rate high on the fun-o-meter.

Last Saturday, Redneck and Roadchick made a trip to the new Goodwill store out of curiousity. There were no parking spaces left. People were parking in the road. Clearly, something good was going on.

It was the Grand Opening of the new store and in honor of the occasion, just about everything was 50% off their already low, low prices. People were carrying huge armloads of clothes. There were squalling children and strollers everywhere. (Did you know that you can buy wedding dresses at Goodwill? You can. However, you CANNOT buy underwear at Goodwill. This is a good thing.)

Redneck wandered off to the Men's Department to look for jeans. Roadchick strolled through housewares and books. Since Redneck was still picking through the racks, the 'chick headed to Women's to see if there was anything worthwhile. There was the usual Megamart-type crap but there were also a LOT of designer label item too. Intrigued, the 'chick dug a little deeper and started her own armload of clothes.

Several outfits later, she emerged from the racks and found Redneck wandering the aisles. He'd found a pair of brand new Levi's for $2.

The total bill for the excursion? $13.

Yesterday, Redneck and the 'chick returned. Once again - jackpot. The 'chick found two more skirts and a shirt and paid $5. Hard to say no to DKNY for $1.50.

It's entirely possible that next Saturday will find the 'chick hunting the racks again. Someone needs to start donating some Manolo's so the 'chick will have some new/used shoes to wear with her new/used clothes.

Open Wide

Lord, y'all, it's been a hell of a week so far.

This morning, the 'chick woke up healthy. By mid-afternoon, she was praying for death and still had a two hour drive ahead of her, just to get home. A lovely co-worker came to the monthly staff meeting with the flu last week. So, just to be on the safe side, considering that the 'chick was coughing her head off, she went to the doctor when she finally got home.

Luckily, her doctor's office does a walk-in clinic in the evenings since the 'chick's illnesses usually refuse to be scheduled or occur during convenient daytime hours.

Roadchick likes her doctor although she avoids going most of the time. He knows this about her so he was shocked to hear that the 'chick's symptoms started only this afternoon. Usually the 'chick will wait a week or two until one of two things happens. 1) She is nearly dead and frightens people in the waiting room. 2) She has battled her way through the initial illness but cannot shake the secondary infection, is nearly dead, and frightens people in the waiting room. The doctor always asks: "Why did you wait so long to come in?" And the 'chick always responds: "Because the 'chick was much too sick to come sit at the doctor's office."

As soon as he heard that there had been flu exposure, he stepped back, feeling for the doorknob.

"Um, I'll just have the nurse do a flu test. Takes about 10 minutes."

And with that, he was gone.

The nurse came in with a rather long cotton swab. The 'chick regarded her, wondering exactly where she thought that overgrown q-tip was going to go. Fortunately, it was only for a nasal swab. Although the 'chick has excellent control over her gag reflex, it does not extend to cotton swabs on long sticks.

Ten minutes later, Dr. Disappearo returned, looking much happier. No flu, according to the q-tip. The 'chick was happy when she saw that he was carrying a sample bag. It's just like Halloween for grown-ups. All you have to do is open wide and say ahhhhhhh. . .and sometimes you get good things.

Come to think of it, that might work well in other situations too.

Roadchick Will Show You Hers . . .

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

As Pacian said - all the cool kids are doing it. Never let it be said that the 'chick didn't jump off the cliff with the rest of the group. Get yours. Join the clique.

Since the 'chick is going to be spending most of the week on the road for work, this may well become The Week of the Meme and Blog Crap rather than leave the blog home alone. If you've seen a good one, feel free to send it the 'chick's way.

We All Wiki

1. Go to wikipedia and type in your birthday, month and day only.

2. List 3 events that occurred on that day.

3. List 2 important birthdays.

4. List 1 death.

5. List a holiday or observance. (if any)

6. Tag 5 other bloggers.

Birthday:

~~~October 27~~~

Events:

1904 - The first underground New York City Subway line opens; the system becomes biggest in United States of America, and one of the biggest in world.

1961 - NASA launched the first Saturn I rocket in Mission Saturn-Apollo 1.

2004 - Curse of the Bambino: The Boston Red Sox defeat the St. Louis Cardinals in Game 4 of the World Series, winning their first championship since 1918.

Birthdays:

1967 - Scott Weiland, American singer (Stone Temple Pilots and Velvet Revolver)

1984 - Kelly Osbourne, English television personality (Ozzy Osbourne's daughter)


Deaths:

2003 - Rod Roddy, American television announcer (b. 1937) (from "The Price Is Right" game show) - Guess he was finally told to "Come on down!" Rest in peace, Rod.


Holidays:

United States - Navy Day

Tagged:
Pacian
Autrice
Kim G.
and anyone else that would like to play

Yo Quiero Los Pantalones!

The other night, Redneck and the 'chick went to a Mexican restaurant for dinner. It's just a little place in the town where he lives and the food is really good.

As they drove through the parking lot, a mariachi band was entering the restaurant. Redneck asked the 'chick if she still wanted to have dinner there, since it was pretty apparent that the band was going to be playing. The 'chick was feeling adventurous and they decided to stay.

Halfway through the chips and salsa, the band appeared in the bar area. They made their way slowly from table to table, taking requests and playing songs. The 'chick informed Redneck that she really, really wanted a pair of black mariachi pants with silver chains. By now, Redneck knows to just nod and smile and eventually the 'chick will forget all about it.

Until that very moment, it had never occurred to the 'chick that mariachi bands played anything other than typical, mariachi-type music. She was wrong. This mariachi band was much more accomplished than that.

In addition to playing the old standards like La Bamba, Tequila, and O Ye Como Va, this mariachi band also blazed through the fight song of the University of Tennessee (Rocky Top) and that old wedding favorite, the Chicken Dance. (Pollo dance?)

The evening came to an abrupt end though, because when the mariachis approached Redneck and Roadchick and asked if they had any requests, the 'chick blurted out: Yo quiero los pantalones!

There was dead silence for a moment, until the head mariachi, taking the safest way out, calmly informed the 'chick that they didn't know the music to that song. They quickly moved on to another table, away from the 'chick's apparently clothes-snatching ways.

They were just lucky that Redneck doesn't speak Spanish, because he was going to ask for their wallets.

Sold!

Over the past few weekends, Roadchick and Redneck have been attending auctions. Now, lest you think that these were high-falutin' affairs, let the 'chick assure you that they most certainly were not, unless Sotheby's or Christie's has started serving nachos and cheese sticks at their sales.

There is a place in Nashville that holds an auction every Saturday night. They have all sorts of things up for bid, from packages of socks (hopefully new) to home appliances and electronics to furniture. What they have changes every week, so you never know what you might find.

This auction house also buys the contents of storage units whose owners have fallen behind on their rent. All sorts of things come out of those - the items mentioned above as well as mysterious boxes of various items that the renter saw fit to pack up and put in storage.

The mystery boxes are sold complete, contents undisclosed. You never know what's inside until it's handed over to the highest bidder.

Normally, the 'chick is restrained at these affairs, always worried that a misplaced twitch or scratch would find her the high bidder on a 1972 Ford Pinto or a lovely clock embellished with ceramic unicorns.

Two weekends ago, the 'chick caught auction fever. Going home with heartburn from auction cheese sticks was no longer satisfying. She longed to take something home with her that would last. That she could point to on a shelf, to prove that she is a shrewd bidder.

The last mystery box of the evening was being held aloft. The 'chick caught her breath, bidding number clutched tightly. She was ready.

The bidding opened at $2 and rose steadily to $9. Going once, going twice. . . SOLD!

The man brought the box to the 'chick and she savored the moment. What would be inside? A crystal decanter and wine glasses? Silverware? Some rare books, first editions, autographed by the author?

Slowly, the 'chick removed the tape holding the box shut and folded back the top.

Inside?

Inside were two 4-packs of off-brand toilet paper, a bottle of dish detergent, and a (heavy) box of lawn & leaf bags.

Unfortunately, there are no do-overs at the auction.

Your Opinion Counts

Somewhat, anyway.

The BlogLaughs review of the Roadtrip is up.

A few lovers, a few haters, but it's all good.

However, it's been brought to the 'chick's attention that some people might find her habit of writing in third-person somewhat . . . offensive or distracting.

Never let it be said that it's not all about y'all. Here's your chance to cast a vote to determine the future of the Roadtrip.








You'll have to hit "refresh" to see your answers added in if you choose to play along.

Your answers will be taken into consideration, but it's entirely possible that since it's the 'chick's blog, she'll do whatever the hell she wants to anyway.

Ghost in the Machine

Writing about Sylvia Browne the other day made the 'chick think about her own real-life encounters with spirits. A few years ago, Roadchick and Rockboy were moving out of the house that they'd lived in for about five years. The amount of packing to be done was insane and seemed like it would never end.

During that time, odd things began happening around the house. The TV would suddenly change channels but no one was touching the remote. Or else it would come on unexpectedly when no one was in the room. Lights turned themselves on and off.

It was a little disturbing at first, but after a couple of days, Rockboy and the 'chick decided that there was a ghost in the house. It didn't seem to be doing any harm, so they went about their business and the ghost went about its business.

Then the Outlaws came to visit. (Side note: It's never a good time to come visit when people are packing up to move.) Luckily the Outlaws are good sports and without having to be asked twice, climbed into the attic to get everything out of there that Roadchick would've just left behind for the new owners. Especially since most of it belonged to the Now-Former-Mr.-Roadchick. They learned to not be alarmed when the TV or lights started acting up.

One evening, while everyone was in other parts of the house, the dishwasher turned on. Without human assistance. Considering that it took an instruction manual and an engineering degree to get the dishwasher to work, it was not an accident. It was also not loaded with dirty dishes which proved that the ghost was not female.

The 'chick had had enough. She finally had to have a talk with the ghost.

"Roadchick and Rockboy are moving. If you want to do something useful, pack a box. If you want to be entertaining, find a way for the 'chick to get E! Network on cable."

The male ghost was never heard from again.

Channeling the Colonel

There are not many days that the 'chick gets to indulge in daytime TV. Her bosses do not understand that it is vital to be able to keep up with what is happening on "Montel" and "Ellen" and "Oprah". It's more special when you're on a first-name basis.

Wednesday morning was different.

Roadchick got a call from the office manager on Tuesday night. She said the building would be closed for at least part of the day on Wednesday because a pipe broke and there was no water.

Wednesdays are always a good day to be home because Sylvia Browne is on the Montel show, doing her psychic thing. She knows who the murderer is in an unsolved case. She knows that a man in the audience has a piece of metal in his pocket and it changed his life. One man in the audience has already had 42 lives. The 'chick doesn't want 42 lives, unless she gets richer in each one.

Sylvia never gives out winning lottery numbers or tells people which horse to bet on in the third race.

The 'chick wants to go on Montel and talk to Sylvia Browne. She spends time wondering what she would ask if she had the chance. Would she ask which departed relative was thinking of her? Would she ask where her missing earrings are? Would she ask which career best suited her?

The sad reality is that if the 'chick had the chance to talk to Sylvia Browne, she would most likely disgrace herself and ask something completely stupid.

"What are the 11 herbs and spices in the secret recipe for Kentucky Fried Chicken?"

Sylvia Browne is the Google of the spirit world.

Killer Jeans

From Yahoo News:

NEW YORK - Naomi Campbell says she very much regrets losing her temper and hitting her maid with a cell phone over a pair of missing jeans last year. "I felt very remorseful for having thrown the phone at someone that didn't deserve it," the 35-year-old supermodel tells the TV show "Extra" in an interview set to air Tuesday. "I have a deep sense of shame for the things I've done."

What made her do it? It was "tiredness, lack of sleep (and) just so many things," she says.

"I was being really destructive to myself. ... I didn't know how to reach out," she says. "It was a really scary time."

Campbell, who has a reputation for angry outbursts, pleaded guilty to misdemeanor assault last month for hitting Ana Scolavino in the back of the head with the phone last March. Scolavino was treated for a head injury.

"I threw a cell phone in the apartment. The cell phone hit Ana," Campbell said at her court appearance. "This was an accident because I did not intend to hit her."

In exchange for her guilty plea, she was ordered to pay Scolavino's medical expenses of $363, do five days of community service and attend a two-day anger-management program.

"I do therapy every day," Campbell tells "Extra," adding that she's also partaking in the healing powers of crystals: "I think they bring great energy. ... You should see how many I travel with."

___



Here's what wasn't said:

"I warned that bitch to stay the hell out of my closet. Did she listen? Hell no. Like her fat ass could fit in my jeans. And that cell phone wasn't worth a damn after that. I ought to make her pay for that. Damn hard head."

The 'chick translates for you:

"I have a deep sense of shame for the things I've done." Translation: It was a shame I got caught. I can't believe she turned me in. Does she not know who I am???

"I didn't know how to reach out," she says. Translation: You mean that's NOT what "Reach out and touch someone" means???

"This was an accident because I did not intend to hit her." Translation: Or at least, not where she could prove that I did.

"I do therapy every day," Campbell tells "Extra," adding that she's also partaking in the healing powers of crystals: "I think they bring great energy. ... You should see how many I travel with." Translation: Shopping counts as "therapy", right? My crystals cost more than the medical treatment for the head injury.
___

In the want ads tomorrow:

Wanted, personal maid. Must have references and pass a background check. Must wear larger jeans than employer. Helmet provided. Must be able to carry large bag of crystals.

Frozen Pees

The 'chick routinely listens in on conversations when she's standing in line at the store or wherever she needs some amusement.

The prize-winner was overheard today, at Walgreens. A small boy and his mother were standing in line at the pharmacy and talking to another woman. Apparently, they all went to church together.

Woman (to small boy): We missed your daddy at church on Sunday. Was he sick?
Boy: No, Daddy couldn't come to church because his dick hurt.
Mother: ...horrified look...stammering
Woman: Really...
Mother: (trying to be discreet) Chuck had a vasectomy on Friday.
Woman: Oh, ok, well, that would explain him not being there.
Boy: We can't use the bag of frozen peas that he was holding there.
Mother: (now even more horrified) Well, the doctor did say that peas would conform really well....of course we've thrown them away.
Woman: (nodding, making a mental note to NEVER eat pea salad at the church potlucks again.)
Boy: Daddy said peas are good for his pee-pee.
Mother: Hush now.
Woman: Well, uh, I think I'll just go see if my pictures are done being developed.
Mother: It was nice to see you ...

See parents? Your kids do listen to what you say.

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?