Think Pink in October

Just a reminder, darlings, from your Auntie Roadchick. . .

October is Breast Cancer Awareness month.

You can click the link at the right to help Save the Ta-Tas.

You can donate money or time to the Susan G. Komen Foundation, all by just clicking on the name.

Ladies, you KNOW how important breast cancer research is.

Men, if you love to play with ta-tas, it's time to pay up.

Save the Ta-Tas has some great and wicked funny shirts for sale - take a look and buy one.

It's for a very good cause.

Letters, Letters

The other day, the 'chick opened her mailbox to find an invitation to her 20th high school reunion. Has it really been 20 years? Good grief. It doesn't feel like it's been that long, but in some ways it seems like those years never even happened.

The 'chick attended Catholic high school in Illinois. Not for any high-falutin' religious principles on the part of her parents, but rather because the other option was a public high school in the middle of the city in a block that resembled a war zone. It was a huge, hulking building that resembled some kind of Gothic castle and had about 6 floors. Due to the neighborhood and the gangs, it was decided that the precious female off-spring would go to Catholic school.

Roadchick was less than thrilled by this prospect. There was a dress code. Not quite as bad as uniforms, but not Levis, t-shirts, and tennis shoes either.

There was mandatory religion class. Freshman year was Old Testament. Sophomore year was New Testament. In two years, the class never cracked open the Bible that was on the book list as required.

There were prayers before each class, before lunch, before football games. There was mandatory Mass the first Friday of every month.

Amazingly enough, in this rarified, religious atmosphere, there was the usual compliment of personalities that you would expect in any regular high school. There were preps and jocks, cheerleaders and brains, sluts and burn-outs. There were artists and musicians. There were a few gearheads, but they were a rare breed because this school was a college prep school with no automotive or shop classes available.

For a long time, the 'chick struggled with where she fit in. She had close friends and closer enemies. She joined the Flag Corps and helped to revolutionize it from marching with the band to performing from taped music like Prince and the Beach Boys.

She went to class, violated the dress code and got caught a few times, struggled to stay awake in religion class and got busted for talking during First Friday Mass and got sentenced to a Saturday detention, cleaning the convent.

But at some point, the 'chick also grew up a little and made a few discoveries about herself. She was a jock and an artist and a cheerleader. She was a burnout and a brain. And she made friends across the classes once she stopped caring what anyone thought of her.

And all of a sudden, she was so cool and such a rebel. Because she finally had the strength of character to actually be herself.

The 'chick will not be attending her 20th class reunion because sometimes the past is best left there. Her close friends were never from high school - they are here with her now. In all honesty, while there were a few people that she actually liked, she didn't care much for the greater majority of them because they had not yet learned to stop being mean, to stop hating because someone could not afford the newest fashions from The Limited, to stop judging because someone had different dreams than theirs.

But, to the Class of 1987 - here's hoping you realized your dreams, whatever they were. Best of Luck.

Five Questions

1. What did you want to be when you grew up? Why? Why didn't you become this (or did you?)
The 'chick wanted to be a truck driver. Why? Who knows? Except that she really, really loved the song "Convoy". Roadchick's mother did NOT approve of this career choice.
The 'chick is NOT a truck driver but her job does have her on the road a LOT. Except now, it's in a 2003 Monte Carlo named Payback.

2. You're taking a leisurely stroll through the jungle. All of a sudden you see an animal about to attack you. What's the animal and what's it going to attack you with?
A telemarketer. Attacking with free offers and vacation time-shares.

3. Oh my! It's a magical creature and you've been granted three wishes. The first two you blow on silly things like crazy riches and getting back at that person that's always been an annoyance. Now—what's your last "meaningful" wish going to be?
World peace. With a Coca-Cola for everyone.

4. Oh no! You said something wrong and you've been teleported into your worst nightmare. What is it?
Roadchick's mother is moving in. Permanently.

5. On a serious note: Who is your hero and why?
The 'chick would have to nominate her clients. Each of them is mentally retarded and has other developmental disabilities. It never slows them down. They do not know the meaning of the word "quit". And they never curse their fate. They've never asked, "Why me?" They accept and they overcome and they put the 'chick to shame on a regular basis.

Interview rules:

1. If you would like to participate, leave a comment saying "Interview me." Or send an email to the 'chick - if she doesn't already have yours.

2. The 'chick will respond by emailing you five questions. She gets to pick the questions.

3. Update your blog with a post containing your answers to the questions.

4. Include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.

5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you ask them five questions.

It's Just Static

Wow . . . it's been a long time since the 'chick has posted.

And even longer since anything other than internet quizzes or just pictures have been posted.

And, the 'chick sucks.

For being such a slacker.

But, y'all, here's the thing: there is really nothing of interest going on in the 'chick's life at the moment.

There is no drama.

There is no excitement.

Life is good and life is sweet.

Rockboy is doing well.

Redneck is doing well.

Skaterboy is doing well.

Work is busy but not interesting to write about.

So what is a blogger to do?

Everyone once in awhile, a thought will skitter through the 'chick's mind and the thought "that should go in the blog" does occur, but then when there is actually time to do something about it, it's long gone.

The 'chick remembered Talk Like A Pirate day on the 19th, but couldn't even be bothered to post an "Arrrgh" in honor of the day.

So, Patient Readers (the three that remain), thanks for turning up to check for signs of life. The 'chick is around. And sooner or later, mayhem will ensue.

Count on it.

9/11

You are not forgotten.

Copycat - Thanks, Heather!

Your Band Name is:

The Cultivated Sadists

Band Name Generator

The Cure Shares Your Taste in Music

See their whole playlist here (iTunes required)

Which Musician (or Group) Shares Your Taste in Music?

Labor Day 2007

Happy Labor Day, everyone!

The Outlaws have headed for home and things are slowly settling back into what passes for normal in the Roadtrip household. There is still a ton of laundry to do - sheets, towels, etc. but the biggest part of the Houseguest Explosion has been cleared away.

On the morning they left, the 'chick was cleaning up the kitchen and washed 20 coffee cups. The 'chick did not realize that she had 20 coffee cups.

There are no big Labor Day plans planned. Redneck had to work, Best Friend had to fly to Detroit because her grandmother is very ill, Rockboy is planning on going to the movies with Girlfriend.

So, what has the 'chick been doing?

Playing in Flickr. There is also a little photo link to the right.

It's addictive. Go take a look. Leave comments.



The night before the Outlaws left, the Crew went on a boat ride down the Cumberland River. Nothing really funny happened except for this rather snooty pair of people getting doused by a couple of little kids with SuperSoakers. They were not amused. The rest of us were since the male in the pair had evidently rolled in Calvin Klein's Obsession for Men and it was really overpowering. The dousing helped remove some of the scent. But not nearly enough.

The 'chick is going to spend the day catching up on laundry and hanging around the house, resting. Have fun, no matter what you decide to do, and stay safe!

Criminal Mischief

So, the Outlaws have been visiting. The weekend that they arrived was yet another weekend with temperatures over 100 degrees so that pretty much ruled out any sort of outdoor activity.

After some thought, it occured to the 'chick that it had been years since the clan had paid a visit to Opryland Hotel.

Opryland Hotel is the best at bringing the outdoors indoors and air-conditioning it. There are gardens and fountains and trees and even a river that has a boat ride. Almost like the Bellagio in Las Vegas. Except there are no slot machines.



So anyway, the Roadie crew wandered through the gardens and watched the Dancing Waters and poked around in gift shops ($2.50 for a bottle of Coke! $8.50 for a pack of cigarettes!) and took pictures and generally acted like they didn't get out much.

They almost made it out safely. Almost. But then, they looked down one level and saw this:


Well, no trip to the big city is complete without a little electronic amusement. Right? Into the arcade they went.

Right by the door, there was a machine that was similar to a crane game, where you have to grab the prize and manuever it to the chute in order to win the prize. This game had a spinning disk with a round dish on it and in the dish was a key. The key unlocked the "prize box" on top of the machine and the "prize box" contained one of those handheld Playstation video game thingees. (Wow, the 'chick can rock that technical language. Scary, isn't it?) In order to get the dish with the key, you had to get a mechanical arm to sliiiiiiide it over to your personal prize chute and knock it in.

Not as easy as it sounds.

So, they played that for awhile. A long while. Almost long enough to take the money invested in trying to win the game and just go buy the prize instead.

Then it happened.

Someone, who shall remain nameless, wondered out loud what would happen if the machine were to say . . . tilt and just slide the dish over.

Now, realize that this game machine weighed several hundred pounds so the efforts of a few people, who shall remain nameless, were needed for this experiment.

The results are as follows:

A LOUD alarm and bell (and possibly a flashing light) went off and the little (hidden) doors over the chutes slid closed.

Everyone in the arcade turned to look to see what was going on.

The scientific team conducting the experiment promptly set the machine back down again.

The entire Roadie crew e a s e d casually toward the door of the arcade, looking innocent.

The entire Roadie crew practiced their speed-walking skills to the nearest outside exit which was conveniently also the same door that they had entered through so getaway cars were very close at hand.

No one was arrested, but it's entirely possible that Opryland has face-recognition security software and the Roadie crew has been tagged for immediate ejection should they ever darken the doors again.

They don't call it NashVegas for nothing.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Yeah.

Well.

Bandwagon, anyone?

The 'chick has redecorated. Links will be added later. The 'chick is exhausted from the wallpapering.

Hopefully the autumn colors will inspire the weather to COOL down. Weeks of being over 100 degrees is starting to take its toll. Hopefully the new template will inspire the 'chick to actually write once in awhile.

Snaps to Pyzam for the template.

Remind the 'chick to tell y'all about the Outlaws' visit - but it's not over yet. They're on their way back from visiting other family. More hilarity will ensue.

(Why is it that past bedtime always seems like the best time to get started on something like this???)

This Explains a Lot

With thanks to Heather for the idea!

You're Adventures of Huckleberry Finn!

by Mark Twain

With an affinity for floating down the river, you see things in black
and white. The world is strange and new to you and the more you learn about it, the less
it makes sense. You probably speak with an accent and others have a hard time
understanding you and an even harder time taking you seriously. Nevertheless, your
adventurous spirit is admirable. You really like straw hats.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Oh, Please

It's either a cold or bad allergies.

Whatever it is, it is NOT welcome right now.

The carpet cleaners come tomorrow. Stuff needs to be moved - just little stuff since they do the heavy moving, but still.

Redneck is working some serious overtime so the 'chick won't see him until the weekend.

Rockboy headed back to school on Monday and it's going to be a LOOOOOONG year.

The 'chick cleaned out her closet last night and has a TON of stuff to haul to Goodwill. They have drive-thru drop-off now. You pull up, pop the trunk, and the nice people come out and unload your car for you. And hand you a receipt for tax purposes.

And, it's 105 degrees out. No kidding.

August Follies

If it's August, it means that it's time for the Outlaws to descend. They will be here, luggage in tow, late Saturday afternoon.

Just thinking about it makes the 'chick tired. The Outlaws are always welcome in the Roadtrip household but the 'chick has a bit of the obsessive-compulsive about her and wants everything just so for them before they get here. And that means cleaning.

Normally, the cleaning would be well underway, but this year, it's just not happening. Work does not permit it and the 'chick's energy level does not permit it.

So, the troops have been called in.

For the first time EVER, the 'chick has arranged for a carpet cleaning company to come in and clean the carpeting in the living room, guest room, and for good measure, her bedroom. They come Thursday morning.

Rockboy will be threatened into cleaning his bathroom since the guest room shares that bathroom.

Groceries will have to be purchased. Menus will have to be planned.

Luckily though, activities will not have to be arranged because the fair is coming to town. And when the fair comes, so does the demolition derby and mud drags. Redneck good times, y'all.

For longtime readers, you will remember that not long after Roadchick and Redneck started dating, the Outlaws came to town and were carried to the mud drags. This calendar will likely be repeated this year.

And, in the "Awww" column - Redneck and Roadchick celebrated their one-year anniversary over the weekend by going out to dinner in downtown Nashville followed up by a visit to the comedy club to see Pauly Shore. A good time was had by all.

And, it was a Very. Good. Weekend.

Keep a good thought for the entire Roadie crew. It's going to get busy.

Simpsonized & Something for the Bunny Girls

Get yer own:

www.simpsonsmovie.com

And if you haven't seen the movie - go. Go now. The 'chick will wait here.

For the bunny girls:

Ice, Cubed

Except you have to go buy it and carry it home. And store it in 5 or 10 pound bags.

Movin' on Up

The 'chick has moved.

She called in the movers and bought a lot of beer.

Kind of.
But not really.

However, she DID paint a new number on the slightly tilted mailbox at the end of the driveway.

The 'chick is now:
http://www.roadchick.net/




But, even if you still have the old address, you can still visit the 'chick. Blogger has kindly agreed to let the 'chick paint over the old owner's name and put hers up top.

It seemed like too much of a commitment to actually purchase space to host the blog elsewhere. Buying the domain was more of an impulse purchase. The last 10 feet of Walmart, if you will.

Anyway, housewarming party at the 'chick's.

Bring nice gifts! And more beer.

Eat This

Oh. Mercy. Want something impressive for dinner that is really pretty easy to make? This is insanely good. It looks more difficult than it really is - if you can stir, you can cook this. The 'chick even managed to impress herself with this one.

1 bag frozen cheese ravioli prepared according to directions on package.

Sauce:

2 cups white sauce (directions follow)
8 oz. smoked gouda cheese (cut into small pieces to make it melt faster)
2 - 3 sun-dried tomatoes, chopped up
Fresh sliced mushrooms, if you like 'em (and we like 'em)
Chopped fresh tomato (for garnish)
Chopped green onion (for garnish)
Salt & pepper to taste

Yo' Mama's White Sauce:

Melt 1/4 cup butter (BUTTER, not margarine) in a saucepan. Whisk in 1/4 cup flour when the butter melts - cook over medium heat for a couple of minutes until it thickens. Add 2 cups of milk and stir well. Continue cooking over medium heat for a few more minutes until it thickens up again.

Add the cheese and sun-dried tomatoes. Stir really well until the cheese melts. You may need to add more milk to thin out the sauce because it can be really thick. Add salt & pepper to taste. You can also toss in some fresh sliced mushrooms right at the end.

Pour the sauce over the ravioli and garnish with chopped fresh tomato and green onion. (You've gotta do the garnish. At least one part of it. Preferably both.)

Enjoy! (And serve something minty for dessert.)

It's a Dirty Job

(The picture shown is NOT Redneck OR the 'chick's car.)

Sunday night, Redneck informed the 'chick that he would be taking her car home with him because it was time to change the oil. (Redneck has been in charge of car maintenance for the 'chick since almost their first date.)

The 'chick didn't think too much about it and handed over the keys without a second thought.

Last night, she headed over to his house to hang out for awhile (and get her car back and return his.)

The best present? Better than a free oil change?

He washed, waxed, and detailed the entire car.

He dusted and vacuumed and Armor-All'd the interior.

He cleaned the windows - inside AND out.

He polished up the rims and put tire shine on the tires.

He even put the spare tire back into its compartment the way that God and GM intended.

It made the 'chick a little swoony.

Men - want to impress your girlfriend who has to do all of her own car maintenance? Follow Redneck's lead. You might be surprised at how well the car detailing business pays.

*g*

Inner Dork, Unleashed

Friday night found Redneck and Roadchick at the local bookstore, awaiting the release of the seventh and final installment of the Harry Potter series - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Amazingly, Redneck was perfectly willing to participate in this insanity, as long as he could bring the laptop with wireless capability along.

Now, considering that every store in the entire world, including truck stops and sex shops was selling this book, you would think that the crowds would be manageable.

Not so.

It was insane. By pure, dumb luck, Redneck got a parking space in the same county because someone was leaving. They must have been leaving for emergency surgery since no one else was going ANYWHERE. Can you imagine that phone call?

"Mrs. Jones, we've found a donor. The kidney is on the way. We need you at the hospital immediately."

"What, now? But it's 2 hours to Potter. Tell the surgeons to wait. I'll need something to read while recovering."

In all the excitement, it never dawned on the 'chick that you had to join a line 10 miles long to get a wristband. She had the reserve ticket. Who knew that you had to have other things?

Realization dawned about 11:30. There were wristbands. Crap.

By that point, the floor was getting really hard and there was no more amusement to be found in the business section although apparently, you can create crafts at home for fun and profit.

Redneck and Roadchick bailed. And made $20.00 for vacating a parking space. (No, not really, but it was considered.)

The kids were all dressed up - there were Hermiones and Ginnys and even a Fleur Delacourt. There were Harrys and Rons and Dracos. There were Professor McGonagals and Dumbledores.

And, oddly enough, there was a group of teenaged boys wearing their little brothers' pajamas - of the Spiderman variety. Skintight shirts that became belly shirts and the pants turned into nearly obscene shorts.

It was the grown-ups in full costume that were the most bizzare. They were the ones that you wouldn't really want teaching a gym class at the local middle school because they were so . . . peculiar.

But, neither Redneck nor Roadchick regretted the trip because after all, it is the last Potter release party.

The next day, with no crowds around, a copy of Deathly Hallows was purchased without fanfare at the local Kroger.

If y'all have read it - don't tell. The 'chick is reading it very slowly to savor it. And to annoy Redneck who wants to read it once the 'chick is finished with it.

No Diving

Last night, Redneck and Roadchick went to Wally World to buy a crockpot.

Roadchick came home with a swimming pool, air pump, and a crockpot.

Now, granted, the swimming pool cost all of $30.00 with an extra $10.00 thrown in for the air pump to blow it up. But, still.

The 'chick has wanted a swimming pool for years. Nothing too elaborate - an aboveground pool would've been fine.

Except.

The neighborhood association (neighborhood assholes?) have some funky rule about "No aboveground pools". Inground pools are fine. With prior permission before installation. The 'chick has inground pool taste on an inflatable pool budget.

The neighborhood does have a pool at the "Recreation Center". The pool is not much larger than the inflatable pool that the 'chick bought and is always full of children, most of which are not potty-trained. The 'chick is not particularly eager to swim in the neighborhood toilet bowl, so she came up with a reasonably priced alternative.

Redneck laughed when the 'chick dropped the box containing the pool into the cart. He asked why she was buying a wading pool.

"It's not a wading pool. It's a wallerin' pool. To lay outside in the sun and waller. And get a tan. And not get hot."

"Your neighbors are going to think you've lost your mind and they're still going to turn you in for having a pool."

"Not if we have pool parties."

"This is all starting to sound a little too much like a 1970's wife swap. Who is going to bring the Jello mold?"

"Oh hey - good idea! We can have Jello wrestling in the evening!"

"Then you'd better buy a patch kit."

"No, it's only funny until someone punctures the side."

"You do realize that you're not right in the head, don't you?"

"Yes. Do you think Jello will turn people's skin funny colors? Or stain the towels?"

"Better get the sugar-free or else there will be ants everywhere."

"The 'chick does not want relatives coming over."

"Not aunts - ants - the little bugs? Oh nevermind - just go pay for this stuff."

Pool party at Roadchick's house this weekend. Y'all are invited. Just don't bring your aunts.

Dripping With Insight

And not particularly funny.

During the drive to work this morning, the 'chick had herself a good ol' think. She was thinking about friends that are in her life right now, and friends from the past. The reason for this musing was because of an email that she received from a friend from the past. Just a funny, joke email that perfectly demonstrated the sense of humor that this friend and the 'chick shared.

The 'chick used to be co-workers with this person and was actually pretty close to bestest friends with his wife. The closeness of the friendship lasted over several years, one move to a new house ('chick), one divorce ('chick), several funerals (friends' family members), holidays, birthdays, etc.

The friendship suffered a split when a new employee started at the job. The new co-worker was the office manager and the 'chick was friendly to her, got along well with her, took smoke breaks and lunch breaks with her and eventually became very good friends away from work hours with her.

Old Friends did not like New Friend because . . . who knows? They said she was white trash, things like that. Roadchick thought this was absolute bullshit and let that be known. Besides - at the point that those comments were being made, New Friend was still just New Co-Worker and Roadchick's boss besides. It made good sense, careerwise, to be friendly to the new boss. And besides, there was no reason to be ugly.

Anyway.

Old Friends had their annual Christmas party that year. Roadchick was always invited and usually involved in the planning and execution of the party. First one there, last one to leave. This year, Roadchick was not invited. She was not even told about the party. Old Friends invited many, many people from the office and apparently told everyone to keep it a secret from the 'chick. But, of course, after the party, people were talking it over at work and the 'chick overheard. And the 'chick's feelings were hurt.

It took a little while, but the 'chick got over it. She was still friendly and nice, but not quite so eager to be friends anymore. Things are still friendly and nice, but the friendship never really recovered from that hurt. The 'chick was not so willing to put herself out there again for that hurt to happen.

Another close friend faded off a few years ago. Roadchick and Friend met through work (a different job) and bonded. They went to movies and dinner, drinks, even a roadtrip or two. They even went to church together.

But, Roadchick started noticing that while Friend was usually willing to go along with whatever the 'chick planned, she was not inclined to ever initiate anything on her own. If there were phone calls, the 'chick was the one dialing the phone.

Roadchick and Friend attended the same church and Roadchick, being the heathen that she is, eventually stopped going. (There were actually several reasons, but those don't apply to this particular story.)

Now, Roadchick had kind of figured that Friend might actually call about this because Rockboy and the 'chick were there at least twice a week - Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings. But the phone call never came and the 'chick didn't bother to make the call either. At that point, it seemed like - wow, you didn't even notice that we weren't there.

Of course, all of that flashed through the 'chick's mind pretty quickly which led to this:

Why is it so easy for the 'chick to walk away? Does that mean that she is not letting people really get too close because they're going to disappear anyway?

The 'chick can carry a grudge - she admits that. She will carry it to the ends of the earth and beyond. Not often and it takes some doing to force her to that action, but it can be done.

Before the grudge comes the test.

And the test is this: If you are not calling when you say you are going to, or if you continue to break plans, etc. then the 'chick will sit back and watch. Watch to see if you call or if you are going to take the initiative to plan something and follow through with it. If you do, fine. Things go back to normal. Continue to disappoint? The 'chick takes one more step back. Too many steps back and you fade away into a memory. And, apparently, a blog post.

Advice and therapy in comments.