What I Did for Fun Over Labor Day

Ok, so we know I know how to have a rip roaring good time up here in the boonies. But this weekend was the end all, be all, weekend of fun. I built a CORNICE BOX! Can you stand it? Omigod. What a wild woman I am. For those who are not addicted to HGTV like me, a cornice box goes at the top of a window or panel of windows and adds elegance to the room.

I simply had to have one. And since my husband is frugal at times, we decided to build one! I downloaded samples, material lists, and instructions from various sites. We loaded up the family truckster and headed out to Home Depot and Wal-Mart! Yeehaw.

We got the supplies and 5 hours later had a finished project. I felt a little bad about it because I told my husband it would only take 30 minutes. Ok, so I fibbed a little. He wouldn’t have done it otherwise.

Here is the finished product. I think it is rather glamorous. Don’t you agree?

How I Spent My Labor Day...

My Dog Thinks She is Human

I have a pitbull, who is ironically named “Angel” (the kids named her; not me). I love her to death, but she thinks she is human and it gets annoying sometimes. She allows my daughter to dress her like a baby and eat from a bottle. She gets so excited when she sees the bottle. She also loves to have her “hair” done. My daughter puts hair ties on her ears and she just sits there. Weirdo.

She is obsessed with scrunchies. I wrap my hair up in a scrunchy to go to bed every night. I also wear one if I am doing Taebo. If she notices the scrunchy she will pounce on me and rip it out. It never fails.

She showers with me. She has severe separation anxiety that she can’t even stand to be away from me when I shower. So I stand in the shower and she sits in the corner and gets drenched. She also sits on the ledge when anyone takes a bath. She enjoys popping the bubbles.

Speaking of bubbles, she enjoys red wine and beer. If I set down a glass I have to keep my eye on it or she makes a bee line for it and licks the rim. Gross! She may be fond of my backwash but I do not reciprocate those feelings.

My husband rarely sleeps in our bed. The pitbull has taken over. She sleeps in his spot, under the covers, with her head on a pillow. See for yourself:

Who Needs a Husband When You Have a Puppy - ha ha

Too much to drink, little girl?

 

What can I say? My dog is a nut. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

My Redneck Weekend

So my husband went to a corvette show on Saturday. I had the kids all that day. I had been invited by my neighbors to a tattoo party. I think a tattoo here and then can be cute but too much is not attractive. I make up my mind to get a tattoo. Being the computer geek that I am, I thinking something along the lines of a floppy disk (I am just kidding. I would never put a floppy disk on my body; it would have to be a motherboard - ha ha).

Anyway the wait was 8 hours. So I head out and take my kids over to a birthday party at another neighborhood. I had planned to go back to get a tattoo, but then my dad called and wanted to go to the Octoberfest downtown (yes, I know it is only August; we party early up here in the hills).  Dad and I met up with my uncle and proceeded to down several pitchers of Oktoberfest beer. Well we soon came to the realization that none of us could drive. So we called my mom and she picked us up.

However, when I got home my hubby was at the tattoo party (now this party had been going on for 9 hours at this point). I grab my pitbull (because all rednecks own a pitbull) and she and I walk over to the tattoo party. My name is still on this, but four people were still ahead of me. At this rate I’d be getting a tattoo at four in the morning, Anyway, I left before it was my turn. So I am ink free.

Went back to the festival today. They stuck us in the section where you pour beer. That was probably not the wisest move for them. In between “sampling” we served the beer and made fun of the rednecks that ordered Coors Lite. Honestly, who comes to a German festival and orders Coors Lite. We worked for a few hours then Red came up and we hung out.

Our kids met and played. My hubby took the troops around in his corvette, with the newly suped up exhaust. I grilled out and we drank beer. Yeehaw.

Crap, I’m Old

So on Wednesday I sent my “baby” off to kindergarten. I’ve been majorly depressed all week. My husband doesn’t get it. I’ll never send a child off to school again; this is it. My day has come and gone. We stopped after two kids and I’m fine with that. It’s just a bittersweet realization.

As a parent you look forward and encourage the “firsts.” There’s the first smile, the first time they roll over, first time they walk, potty, etc. Parents celebrate those. And I know there will be other “firsts” as the kids get older, but this one was hard on me. This was the first “first” that I dreaded. I’ll be a basket case at her prom, for sure.  

She just seems so small and unprepared. I swear she was just born yesterday. I know she’s ready and I know that, as my daughter, she will conquer the world. I guess it’s just hard for me to let go. It sucks to get old.

Girls Weekend Out - Part 2

Ok, so I had a true blond moment this weekend. My girlfriend, Red, tells me that the door to the stairs is closed on the way up to the condo. So after a few hits off the keg-o-rader we head out. Several members of the pack take the elevator, but Red and her sis go down the stairs. In my blond moment I say “I thought the stairs weren’t working?”

So Red turns 40 and 9 of her best buds gather around at her folks house in Ocean City, MD. Walking distance to Macky’s Seacrets and Fager’s. I was in heaven. I arrive Friday around 1 and we head to the beach. Whistle Crazy Lifeguard Bitch was at the helm. Despite her frantic cries on the whistle we head out into the surf. Ten minutes after meeting (we’ll call her “Mom” because he job for the weekend was to count and make sure there were 9 girls at all times) Mom a giant wave pummels her and she lands face up in my crotch! Hello there.

We decide the surf is too intense so we cover up and head to Mackey’s for happy hour. The storm keeps us inside but the Miller LiteGuards were there and we scored some free drinks. The deal was we buy a ML, they buy the next. When Red went to collect on her ML the LiteGuards were out. So they hand her a ML beer cooler instead. Red opens the beer cooler to discover 9 whistles! I mean how perfect is that? 9 chicks. 9 whistles. What’s more fun than drunk girls with whistles (NOT).

Anyway, I used my whistle rather often. When crossing coastal highway I would yell “move it out, troops!” and toot on the whistle. In my drunken stupor it was the funniest damn thing any of us had ever heard. We shower and head out to Fager’s. Now by the time we got to Fager’s the line was huge. I’m not the type of person who will sit in wait in a line if there’s a chance I can get in sooner. So Mom and I head to the front.

“We have a 40th birthday party and a bridal party. Pick one. Just let us in now.” The bridal party bit worked and we were in. I wasn’t lying. We did have a bride to be in the bunch so we made her do some embarassing tasks throughtout the evening. We started out with a round of kamikazes and the night was off to a great start.

To recap the evening, there were lacross boys (who were apparently into COUGARS).  There were doctors. There were cigarettes (no lectures, please, I don’t do it often at all). There was tons of dancing (on top of bars and on the floor). A drunken college boy tried to hit on me (yeah, I still got it), but I showed him the rock then threw him at Squirrley Girl. She was grateful, he was too, and all was well in drunken land. Mom held me up on the way home. I quickly passed out when we entered the condo and day one was over.

Day Two was rough in the morning. Squirrley Girl and I needed lots of ice cold water ASAP. We ran and jumped into the ocean. Agh! Hangover bliss. We swam for 45 minutes then got out. Once the hot sun hit us we wanted to hurl. We ended up hauling ass back to the condo then went for greasy hangover food. Two slices of Tony’s Pizza and a pitcher of Yuengling later we were on our game! We opted for a shopping spree on the boardwalk then sprinted back when the girls called and said they were heading for Seacrets.

We met up at Seacrets and were greeted to a sea of very drunk people in skimpy swimsuits. We were still wearing out suits, but were very covered up at the time. I thoroughly enjoyed 3 PAIN IN THE ASS cocktails (the Seacrets specialty). I kept noticing the table next to us looking over our way. I tried to ignore the glances but obviously something was up. One of them (I swear he looked like the Priest, Damion, in THE EXCORCIST) came over and talked to Mom. Apparently, the whole table was looking at MOI! Now, let me tell you, we had some freaking hots chicks in our party. Tall Skinny Blond was drop dead gorgeous. Mom had skin that was flawless; she just glowed. Smoking Jogger girl was skinny and had long flowing hair. There were options, let’s just say that. I am a bit curvier than the others so I was a bit shocked to know the attention was bestowed on me. Let’s just say “My Humps” should be my theme song. Anyway, the Damion table liked it (thank you, Victoria’s Secret Summer cover ups). Anyway, I showed them the rock and they backed off, but the attention did wonders for my self esteem.

On the way out of Seacrets a man says “did you see the celebrity?” I said, “no, who?” He says, ” Wesley Snipers,” and pointed me in his direction. Five footer and I ran over and tried to meet him. The bouncer stopped Five Footer but I snuck in behind and shook his hand and took his picture.

Wesley Snipes Chilling at Seacrets in Ocean City, MD

Holy crap! I met Wesley Snipes at Seacrets in OC! Awesome.

We head back to the condo because we got crabs. No, not the genital kind - the hard shell, dip in vinegar with lots of old bay kind. After pigging out we shower, dress, and head back to Seacrets. This is my favorite bar in the entire world. There is no place quite like it. We had a blast. We danced, we watched Michael Phelps win the 8th gold, I karate kicked an Irish guy, we passed out the 40th birthday cups (but you had to be “cup worthy”). It was a good time.

I woke up and headed home. I thank my husband for trusting me enough to go, and I thank my new friends (and old friends) for a great time. Girls do JUST WANNA HAVE FUN.

No pillow fights, though. Sorry.

Girls Weekend Out

Okay so my friend Red is turning the big 4 — 0 this weekend. Nine of us are going down to her beach house in OC. I am taking a veggie tray, some pita chips, a nice bowl of hummus and two bottles of vodka. I think I can live of all that for two days. What do you think?

I’ve also packed 10 shirts, 6 pairs of shorts, a dress, swimsuit, towel, and 5 pairs of shoes. Now let me remind you that this trip lasts for a grand total of 2 days. No one completely understands the female brain when it comes to packing for trips. I justify my choices by saying “at least I will be prepared for anything.”

I will miss dearly miss my family but after seven days and nights with them at Disney I feel the strong urge for some “Mommy free time.” Red’s place is right across from my favorite bar, Seacrets. So it should be a very lovely time. I plan on baking in the sun, consuming a sufficient amount of liquid refreshment, and eating Thrasher’s French Fries and Tony’s Pizza to my heart’s content. Seacret’s — get a PAIN IN THE ASS ready for me!  I am SOOOO there!

In honor of Red’s day I thought it would be fitting if all of us dyed our hair red. Would that make a statement or what? It would definately turn some heads. I’m still game, but I think the others are more fond of their current look. My blog name might have to change though, if I pose as a red-head. Oh well. It was still a great idea.

More blog to follow after the venture. This is going to be a weekend to remember!

 

http://lifeofred.worpress.com if you want to see who’s the birthday gal!

I am such a geek…

I’ve blogged before on how geeks don’t want to interface directly with people. Today’s example deals with a conference call I was to attend. Well, acutally, I was to run it, but being a manager I pawned that off on someone else. Then he motions from across the cube for me to join the call. Ugh. Ok. Rather than get up out of my chair and walk the twenty feet across the room to his cube I pick up my own phone and dial into the conference call.

So now we have two people, 20 feet apart from each other, with the phone on “speaker”. Everytime he spoke it echoed in my phone. Everytime I spoke it echoed in his phone. The noise was horrible. But being the geek I am, I found it rather humerous so I kept going with it (snort * snort).

The neighbors were finally so ticked they forced me out of my chair and made me join MINOR from his cube. Party poopers. Some people just don’t know how to have fun in the work place.

Things That Might Be Offensive If You Aren’t in IT…

My team and I were sitting around talking one day and we stumbled upon the topic of IT gargon. Now for those of us who are a part of the IT industry these might seem like common, everyday phrases. But we started to think what HR employees, policemen, even doctors might think if they heard us talking like this.

For example, my team has been asked on numerous occassions to produce “daily dumps.” To the IT person this is referring to data. But imagine you are a doctor. And you hear that someone is forced to produce daily dumps for another department. You see where I am going with this?

Now imagine that you are asked to provide ”daily dumps” while someone else is checking the size and frequency of your logs.  Again, if you are a doctor, this would be a very politically incorrect way to phrase this request.  It gets even worse if someone offers up a SCSI (pronounced scuzzy) adapter. And people think IT personnel are geeks (snort * snort).

Now if you are a policeman and you overhear my team talking about “killing Maximo”, is it in no way, shape, or form, a reference to a murder. We are simply rebooting a server. Likewise, if you hear us discussing “dropping a session,” this is in no way a code for gang activity. We are removing excess users from the database.

These are things that HR might find offensive. For instance, I am a female manager and I ask one of my male employees to go “harden the box.” I could understand how HR might take that out of context. However, it simply refers to applying the necessary security scripts to a server to comply with security guidelines. I might also ask an employee about his “bang account.” I am not asking this employee for a sexual history, it is simply referring to whether or not he has admin access to the server. But you can see why a simple term might land an IT tech in the HR office.

Anyway, as my team and I come up with more lingo I will make sure I add it to this blog. I must now go apply more tape to my bottle glasses and clean my pocket protector before tomorrow.

My Life as a Geek

I work in the IT industry and experienced something rather enlightening the other day. I do realize that I am a blond female and do not fit the stereotype of an IT Geek, but that’s not what I found to be enlightening. Typically, IT Geeks are not social people. We go out of our way to avoid direct conduct with individuals. An actual phone conversation could send someone into shock. To a geek, email was the best invention ever. Well, hold on — Instant Messenger was the best invention ever; email is second. With IM you can have a real time conversation without actually having to talk to that person.

Let me give you a solid example of an IT Geek going out of his way to avoid direct contact with a person. I was having a conversation with two people in my cube the other day. Yes, I know; it was a real live conversation. My email alert popped up. Now being the true geek that I am, I immediately turned my head away from the conversation and checked the email. I don’t know what the allure is to receiving email (or snail mail for that fact) but it tends to excite people. I couldn’t resist.

So I open the email and discover that the email is from the coworker standing in my cube! He is actually on his blackberry emailing me while he is having a conversation with me! What the hell? Have we really become this lazy? I turned back to him and said “did you seriously just email me while you are standing in my cube?” The other coworker busted out laughing. I mean, is this the ultimate example of geekdom or what?

We are hopeless.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

My dream vacation consists of staying at a five star resort where I can sun myself along crystal clear, sandy beach where lightly clad waiters will bring me cocktails right on the beach. I envision places like Atlantis or Sandals in the Bahamas. I would even enjoy a week at Disney or an elegant cruise. My vacation would involve lying in the sun, fine dining, shopping to my heart’s content, and having a plethora of entertainment options.

This summer my family decided it would be a good idea to stay in a camping ground in Myrtle Beach, SC. Now, I’m not one for camping to begin with, but driving nine hours to camp just seemed insane. To me the idea of going on vacation and staying in a place that is not even equivalent to your own home is beyond me. I also resent the fact that I have to cook, clean, and do laundry on my vacation. Why bother to leave home?

But the good sport that I am, agree to this trip. Now the drive alone was an experience (I should have started drinking then). I cannot understand why someone would drive nine hours to get to a campground, when there are perfectly good planes that would reduce the travel time significantly. But my husband doesn’t pack light. So we loaded up the old minivan, hitched up the boat, and cruised to Myrtle Beach looking like Clark Griswold and family. All I needed was a luggage rack and a spray painted sign reading “honky lips” on the side of the family truckster and I would be right out of the movie “Vacation.”

Nine hours and one speeding ticket later (on HIS shift, thank you), we arrived at the campground safely.  I stress safely because after nine hours together it is a wonder we didn’t kill each other. The campground was “interesting”. Actually, I was quite relieved that I did not incinerate the second I crossed the threshold. You see, it is a Christian campground; being a Christian campground that means NO ALCOHOL ALLOWED. Now anyone that knows me knows three things about me: (1) I love my cocktails (2) if there is a mosquito within 10 miles it will find me. (3) my language can be rather vulgar and (4) I love my cocktails (ok, I can’t count either). This campground was going to be a challenge for me.

After unloading my vodka, beer, and Smirnoff cocktails (anyone that knows me well also knows I do not always follow the rules), I unpacked the rest of the luggage. I mean I had my priorities, after all. So after my first cocktail (ok, five) I cruised the campground with my kids; all of us riding our bikes. I started to think that this might actually be a good week for me exercise-wise: bike riding, swimming, a roaring game of horse shoes. The sky was the limit! However the next day I woke up to the sorest ass I’ve ever had. It’s been a while since I rode a bike and the pain was excrutiating. It was comparable to the time I got diarrhea from eating uncooked poultry and had to wipe my bottom 10,000 times, ending up with a horrible rash. Still, I trudged along and tried to make the best of it. I’m a trooper, after all!

On day two we had the pleasant experience of my 10 year old cousin having his bike stolen. Remember, this is a Christian campground and yet there are still thugs. Nice. I hope Jesus was watching and taking notes. Not that the campers seemed all that Christian to me. There was the redneck driving his jacked up camouflaged Chevy through the campground, flying a rebel flag with the words “redneck” on it. Then there was Mr. Clean with gold hoops in both ears and snaggleteeth. Claw foot has such nasty toes that when she stepped into the pool I was so grossed out I had to leave immediately. Almost everyone at this campground had a tattoo, as if it was a requirement to enter the campground.

I understand that many of these visitors are not privy to the lap of luxury that I am accustomed to. But honestly, if all I could afford was a pop up tent I doubt I would bother to make the trek to the beach. Spending the nights on the floor with nothing but a sleeping bag between me and the snakes is not my idea of a good time. However, one redneck did manage to make the most of the tent by cutting out a hole in the tent, propping up an air conditioning unit on a crate, inserting it into the hole of the tent, and securing it with duck tape. I kid you not! Take a look at my husband sitting next to it. I think this should be the brochure for the campground with the caption “Yeah, but wait until you see the bathroom!”

A couple days into the trip we celebrate the fourth of July. Now I have no experience with campgrounds on the fourth of July but this was just about the strangest thing I’ve ever experienced. It was like a cult. Everyone participated in a “parade” of golf carts. People were very into this. All the golf carts were decorated for the holiday and people lined the dirt paths to watch this madness. Why anyone would dress up in a full clown costume in 94 degree weather is beyond me. Old timers plucked their banjos while they cruised on their golf carts. I saw more cowboy hats that day than I did the entire week I spent in Texas. Those who did not don the cowboy hat typically wore a wife beater shirt and ripped jean shorts.

The campground also held a beauty pageant for the female youths at the the campground. Ages ranged from teen to kindergartner age. Now it doesn’t seem very Christian to me having little girls prance around in skimpy swimsuits with all the pedophiles that were surely staying amongus. Even if there were no convicted pedophiles there, the general clientele was just a bit abrasive. I felt even more protective of my daughter after witnessing that. In fact, the day we went to Hard Rock Park a pedophile from the FBIs most wanted list was captured! My daughter was in that park with that sicko. Anyway, the winners of the campground beauty pageant were featured in the parade of golf carts and this just disturbed me.

The kids club was quite an experience, too. I thought I’d check it out in case I needed a few hours away from the kids. But it was not like the vacation bible school I was used to in Maryland. I’m used to arts and crafts, snacks, stories from the bible. These people were jumping and praising Jesus with hands in the air, eyes closed, speaking in tongues (well that last part might be exaggerated). However, I felt like I was on a TV Evangelist show. I can’t say for sure but I bet there was a healer on the staff. I just didn’t hang around long enough to find out for sure. I was terrified they would sacrifice a live chicken or pass around snakes. My son would have had me committed if I had made him spend one minute in that kids’ club.  

And the other issue I had was the guitarists. What is it with campgrounds and half-assed musicians? Why do they feel the urge to play by the pool, at the coffee house or on the beach? I hate people who play guitars out in the open. It drives me nuts. It’s right up there with people that speak to themselves in public and women who have to take the bathroom stall right next to me, despite the fact the rest of the bathroom is completely open. I don’t want to hear any guitarist playing “You are my sunshine” on a crappy guitar just because that person can play. I can build databases but you don’t see me doing that for YOUR entertainment, do you? If you play an instrument play in a band; not alone on a beach.

Anyway, I did manage to have a decent week (Thank You Vodka, It’s Me Blondy), but it was not without its challenges. Lee’s Kitchen gets a plug for being a great place to eat. The wait is long, but they let you take drinks out onto the lawn while you wait. Despite the pedophile, Hard Rock Park was fun. The Ripley’s Aquarium is always a hit and Broadway at the Beach never lets me down. As far as camping goes, though, this will be the last campground experience I have in Myrtle Beach (and most likely anywhere else for that matter). I’ve been traveling for far too many years at this point to settle for less than my normal life. With that I now conclude my first blog and as the Lakewood Campig Resort would say “Have a Holy Day.”

Video - Redneck Woman (in honor of my camping neighbors)