Author: Robyn

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(click on image to see the full-sized version) (click on image to see the full-sized version) (click on image to see the full-sized version) (click on image to see the full-sized version) When the sunrise was pretty much over and I was starting to get really cold, I went inside and read until everyone else got up, sometime after 8. I took my shower and got dressed and everyone else milled about while I read, and then the great “Where shall we go for breakfast?” discussion began. I cut it off at the knees when I said “Hey, let’s go back to that place we went Monday and get the buffet!” (We fat chicks love the buffet, don’tchaknow.) So we went to the Sea Captain’s House (I keep wanting to call it the Sea Captain’s Table for some reason) for breakfast, then did a little more driving around, checking out the resorts in the area. We stumbled across a nice little trailer park, and I tried to convince my parents to buy a trailer, because the trailer park was within walking distance of the beach and helLEW, why would you need a great big expensive beach house when you could buy a much less expensive trailer? But they wouldn’t go for it. We went back to the apartment for a little while, and then my mother decided that she was having the shakes since she hadn’t been shopping in almost 20 hours, so she, the spud and I headed out to go shopping. We went to a mall that had outlet stores, but I don’t remember the name of the mall. Oh, here it is – the Tanger Outlet Center. My mother immediately headed for a women’s clothing store, I don’t remember which one. Maybe Liz Claiborne? And the spud and I went into sixteen different stores and went back to find that my mother wasn’t done shopping in the one store. When it comes to shopping for clothes, unless it’s obnoxious t-shirts or maybe baby clothes, the very idea makes me want to stomp and pout and whine “Not cloooooooothes! Clothes are borrrring.” My mother finally left the store after about forty-five minutes with one pair of pants. For my mother, the joy of shopping is in the hunting down the one perfect item that will look perfect with other items she already owns or perhaps an item she might find in the future. She is a shopper – I, on the other hand, am a buyer. I think to myself, “Self, I need underwear.” If I decide I need a certain type of underwear (currently Formfit underwear you can buy at Target) I take myself to the place where the underwear can be found, I spend three to four minutes locating the color and size I need, I pay for it, I go home. Voila! Underwear! Anyway, once my mother was done buying her pair of pants, we headed off to look in the other stores. We stopped in Kitchen Collection, where I bought a small cutting board and a funnel, then we went to Cabin Creek. In Cabin Creek I found a plethora of things I didn’t know I needed. For one, I bought some more coasters, these with a picture of a house on the ocean and a saying along the lines of “Heaven’s a little closer in a house on the ocean…” The spud, to her delight, found a hot pink Moshi hippo (like this, only hot pink and a hippo). She told me it was like a Moshi pillow Ellen had and that it was cool, and I had to agree – Moshi pillows and animals are very, very cool feeling. If you’ve never seen or felt one, get thee to a Linens ‘n Things and check them out. I asked her if she wanted me to buy her the Moshi for her birthday, and she didn’t have to think about it at all – of course she wanted it. So I bought that, and after we were done shopping and were on our way out, I stopped back by and bought a bright fluorescent yellow Moshi neckroll pillow. I have to say, that’s probably the best thing I’ve bought in a long time. Those pillows are awesome. We spent more time shopping. My mother wanted to buy the spud a kind of dressy pair of shoes, so we went into Skechers and they found a pair of shoes for her. We stopped for a drink and then an ice cream cone (lunch!) and then decided we were done and headed for the Jeep. Then we went to another mall, the name of which I cannot recall. It’s on 501 between the Tanger Outlet Center and Barefoot Landing; it’s on the same side of the road as Barefoot Landing, if you wanted to know. My mother went into the department store (I don’t remember the name – it’s one we don’t have around here, though). I went into Waldenbooks and bought a book, and I offered to buy the spud a book if she found one she wanted. She found a bodice ripper that struck her fancy, so I paid for that as well, and then we went back out into the mall, sat down, and read while we were waiting for my mother. We wandered around the mall a while, but there was nothing too exciting – that is, nothing you can’t see in most of the malls around here. We did stop in the record store (do they call them “record stores” these days?) and I ended up buying the newest Warren Brothers cd and (shaddup) the Minnie Driver cd as well as a (again, shaddup) Sheena Easton “Best of” cd. After that, it was time to go back to the apartment and hang out for a while. My parents tried to start a “where shall we have dinner?” argument, but I put a stop to that by suggesting we got to The Great American Steak and Buffet Company, and they both liked that idea a great deal. It was still early, so my parents went for a walk on the beach while I read and then watched Oprah. The water was pretty wild, so before we left for dinner the spud and I went down on the beach so I could take pictures of the water. My father, who should be shot, took pictures of us from the balcony. And, no. You don’t get to see the full-sized picture where I’m bending over with my ass pointed straight toward the camera. I’m a spoilsport. (click on image to see the full-sized version) (click on image to see the full-sized version) (click on image to see the full-sized version) (click on image to see the full-sized version) (click on image to see the full-sized version) When the spud and I got back up to the apartment, we went out on the balcony and saw a couple of guys windsurfing out on the ocean. (click on image to see the full-sized version) Dinner was fabulous, as I’d known it would be, and I got my fill of seafood salad. That stuff is SO damn good. I don’t know what it’s got in it, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find that the primary ingredient is crackcocaine. After dinner we went back to Bargains so I could look longingly at the adorable little bitty frogs in their aquariums and debate whether Fred would be mad if I brought home some adorable little bitty frogs, and then I decided it would be mean to buy a couple of little frogs and immediately subject them to a 10-hour trip in a shaking vehicle. (I did buy some cheap-o t-shirts for the giveaway page, though. Whee!) We went back to the apartment, where my father sat down and watched Laurel Canyon and my mother fell asleep watching TV with the spud. Talked to Fred for half an hour at ten, then set the alarm on my cell phone for 5:30 am, and went to bed. * * * Thursday morning I woke up feeling like I’d overslept. I looked at the clock and realized it was 5:37 and wondered why the hell my alarm hadn’t gone off. I looked at the cell phone and realized I’d set the alarm for 5:30, but the clock on my cell phone was still on Central time, and I had intended to get up at 5:30 Eastern time. I got up and showered, then woke up the spud. We got dressed, finished packing our bags, and my parents walked down to the Jeep with us. We hugged and said goodbye, stopped for gas, and were on our way home. The spud slept for the first few hours, and I listened to my Warren Brothers cd and tried to make sure I was going the right way. I have to say, I really REALLY like the Warren Brothers cd. It sounds less country than bluesy rock to me; I especially like “Trouble Is”, “Between the River and Me”, “Goodbye to Neverland” and “Pretty” (the last specifically because hearing the word “Ghet-to” cracks me up). During the entire drive home, I think I listened to the cd at least five times, so I’d say it’s a hit with me. We were somewhere near Atlanta when a truck passed me. I glanced over at it, and started laughing out loud. On the back of the truck’s window were two bumper stickers side by side. One said “Terrorists Want Kerry to Win” and the other said “Jane Fonda is a Traitorous Bitch”. I slowed down so he could pass me all the way, and on his bumper was a sticker that said “Feed Teddy Kennedy to the Homeless”. Talk about wearing your heart on your sleeve! Gosh, I wonder where he stands on the political spectrum? Once he was back in the right lane, I changed lanes and passed him, hoping to get a picture of the bumper stickers. I wasn’t able to, but I did get a picture of the truck. I ended up passing him, whereupon he sped up, passed me, and the guy in the passenger’s seat flicked a cigarette butt at the Jeep. Since I wasn’t up for kicking the asses of a couple of good ol’ boys (I could have done it, y’understand. I just didn’t feel like messing up my hair.) I slowed down until they were out of sight. At some point I was switching radio stations, looking for a non-staticky country station, when I heard a voice that seemed familiar. At first I thought it was Paul Harvey so I stopped, but when I heard (paraphrased)”Anyone who can’t make more than minimum wage, who’s trying to raise a family on minimum wage is a loser”, I thought I don’t think that’s Paul Harvey. “Wow,” I said. “What an asshole. That must be Rush Limbaugh.” So I called Fred, who told me he didn’t think Rush would say something quite that rude (ahem) and that though it kind of sounded like him, it was probably Atlanta-based Neil Boortz. I listened to the show for a few more minutes, but he started to sound like a half-drunk college kid amusing himself by trying to be shocking – yeah, we get it! You’re oh-so cutting-edge and shocking! Gasp! – so I put the Warren Brothers cd back in and listened to it again. (click on image to see the full-sized version) There’s a few miles of wildflowers once you cross the Georgia-Alabama border (the flowers are on the Alabama side). Very pretty. I called Fred when we were about twenty minutes from Madison. He left work and met me near the place where I’d rented the Jeep. The spud and I put all our luggage in Fred’s car, then I filled up the Jeep and returned it. Did I mention I got a brand-spanking-new Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo for a week for $150? That just rocks the casbah, in my opinion. We drove home, the spud and I chattering at Fred the entire way. When we got home we unloaded the car, and Fred carried my suitcase upstairs while I greeted Miz Poo and glanced at the mail. “Bessie,” Fred said, coming down the stairs with something in his hands. “Spot brought you a special welcome-home present!” It was a dead sparrow. And not only had Spot brought it into the house, he’d carried it up on the bed, where it had lain long enough to get cold. So I spent my first ten minutes back at home stripping the bed and tossing the sheets and comforter into the wash, because birds carry nasty things like mites, and ewww. But I was still glad to be home. * * * Side notes: 1. I have never in my entire life seen as many dead animals as I saw on I-20 between Birmingham and Atlanta. We saw three dead deer laying by the side of the road, and various other animals. At one point I saw an armadillo laying on it’s back with it’s stubby little legs stuck up in the air and I thought for an instant that it was a baby piglet. 2. I was going to ask who Pee Dee is and why everything in a certain part of South Carolina is named after him, but after a quick search on Google, I understand that Pee Dee is the name of an Indian tribe in South Carolina. You really do learn something new every day, eh? * * * What a face. ]]>

* * * Fred and I watched The Biggest Loser last night (it was on Tuesday night, but we can hardly stand to watch real-time TV unless we’re desperate, so we DVR’d it). When it was over, we debated whether we wanted to keep watching it, and decided to watch one more episode of it, and decide from there. There were things that happened that left a bad taste in my mouth – for instance at the beginning, when they did the initial weigh-in, there was no reason on god’s green earth that they needed to put their bathing suits on. It was humiliating for them and the only point seemed to be “Oh, look! Look at the FAT people!” You’ll notice that they weren’t wearing bathing suits for the weigh-in at the end. The temptation room (or whatever they called it), where there was a refrigerator under each of their names with their favorite foods in it was unnecessary. Fred tried to defend it, saying “You come across temptations like that in real life!”, but I pointed out that “We don’t keep the crappy food we’re tempted by available 24 hours a day in our own house.” It’s a gimmick, so that when someone cracks and runs for their favorite food, the cameras can play the dun-dun-dun music while someone stuffs their face. What I really didn’t like is how overboard the trainers went when it was the day before weigh-in. Did I hear right? Did some of those people exercise for FIVE HOURS? That just doesn’t seem healthy. What seemed the most unhealthy – downright dangerous – is that three people lost around 20 pounds in one week. Now, granted that a good part of that is simple water weight, but 20 pounds? In one week? Not healthy. Someone’s going to end up collapsing, mark my word. Also, is it just me, or are hosts becoming more and more unnecessary? Caroline Rhea was there just to pop up and say “Come weigh!” or “Your trainers will be here tomorrow!” I think the trainers could have served perfectly well as hosts. I don’t know – like I said, we’re going to give it another try, and we’ll see whether we decide it’s worth continuing to watch.

* * * I watched A Cinderella Story with Hilary Duff yesterday. (Shaddup) I sure do like that cute little Hilary Duff, but why do the female leads always end up with the boring and bland Prince Charmings? She’d’ve been better off with her cute little best friend. All in all, not a horrible movie. In fact, I’d probably stop and watch it again if I was flipping channels and it happened to be on. * * * I had my hair cut and colored Tuesday morning, and for the first time ever when I walked into the salon and sat down and looked at myself under those bright lights, I didn’t take one look at my hair and cringe. I don’t wash my hair the morning I have it cut and colored, because what would be the point of that? It’s going to get washed after it’s done being colored, and washing it beforehand would be like scrubbing the floor before the cleaning lady gets there to clean, right? Anyway, Monday morning after I got out of the shower I just happened to put some cheap styling product in my hair and blew it dry, because it’s starting to get cold around here and walking around with a wet head is a surefire way to end up piled under six blankets on the couch, shivering, while bitching about how cold I am. Come Tuesday morning I rolled out of bed, put my hair up, took my shower, then brushed my hair when I got out of the shower, and it looked just fine. I get so bored blow-drying my hair, though. Sometimes I bring a book into the bathroom while I’m blow-drying, but it’s hard to hold the blow-dryer, wield a brush to style the hair, and try to read all at the same time. I need to win the lottery so I can hire someone to come to my house every day and style my hair while I read. * * * So, I’ve started doing this very annoying (to me) thing. Back when Things I Hate About You first started and they showed the show with Renee and Patrick (still far and away our favorite couple), there was this part where Renee was singing to her dog Samson, and the song went “Sammy-Sam! Sammy-Sam! Hot-diggity-dog, it’s Sammy-Sam!” Then recently we were watching Extreme Makeover and that adorable Sam Saboura came on, and out of the frickin’ blue, Fred sang “Sammy-Sam! Sammy-Sam!” and that little song lodged itself in my brain and I cannot make it go away. I sing it to everyone and everything. “Freddy-Fred! Freddy-Fred!” I sang the other night. “Stumpy-Stump! Stumpy-Stump!” I sang to Meester Boogers (I also sang “Booger-Butt! Booger-Butt! Hot-diggity-dog, it’s Booger-Butt!” to him). “Pooty-Poo! Pooty-Poo! Hot-diggity-cat, it’s Pooty-Poo!” You get the idea. It’s driving me out of my fucking mind, because it’s up there zinging around, and I just know that one of these days I’m going to start singing it at an inappropriate time. “Afterglow! Afterglow! Hot-diggity-dog, it’s afterglow!” * * * Hey, did you know that the cheese-alicious The Swan is coming back next week? You know I’ll be there, ’cause I’m a sucker for a makeover show! * * * Pet store kitty pics from Monday are here. * * * “Heddo!” ]]>

(click on image to see the full-sized version) My mother and the spud slept in a little, not getting up until almost 8. Then the spud and I took turns taking showers (oh my god, I can’t believe I haven’t mentioned the shower yet – the water pressure in the shower was incredibly strong; I thought it was going to fling me against the wall the first time I stepped into the shower. It was AWESOME.) and we sat around and watched TV for a while (my mother does love that Katie Couric) and then we went to breakfast. This time, we did the Shoney’s buffet (no yummy little pastries! Sob!) and I grabbed the check from my father when it came, because there’s no damn reason he needs to pay for EVERY meal, is there? Then, since none of us really wanted to go back to the apartment, we did some driving around, and we hit a strip somewhere in Myrtle Beach that had many of the same kind of shops and arcades that Gatlinburg does. In fact, Gatlinburg and Myrtle Beach both have the Alabama Theatre, the Dixie Stampede, and The Fudgery, among other things. I started referring to Myrtle Beach as “Gatlinburg by the ocean.” After driving around for a while, we went back to the apartment, watched The View (another show my mother loves), and once that was over we decided to go… shopping, of course! There were some shops at Barefoot Landing we hadn’t made it into, so we decided to go back there. We shopped for a few hours – I bought a sweatshirt at Big Dog – and then decided to go into The Fudgery for a sample of fudge. Only they were about to put on a show (they apparently do a whole song and dance while they make fudge, and at the end they’ll give you a sample, but not before you’re suckered in by the sales pitch) so we stayed and watched that, and then because we’re big stupid suckers, my mother and I each bought something like 3 1/2 pounds of fudge because it was such! a great! deal! Buy three slices, get three free! How can you possibly pass that up?! We’re suckers. Because who the holy hell needs six 1/2-pound slices of fudge? I had actually decided I would “accidentally” leave the fudge in the refrigerator when we left Thursday morning, but my mother was on to my tricks and made sure she got up before I left, and took the fudge out of the refrigerator and put it by my purse so I wouldn’t forget it. I ended up tossing it in the trash at the gas station, because like I said, who the hell needs that much fudge? Anyway, we bought our fudge and did a little more shopping, then went back to the apartment, where my father had been spending the day sitting on the balcony and reading.

(click on image to see the full-sized version) (click on image to see the full-sized version) We decided to go for a walk on the beach, and for once I left the camera at home, because I didn’t want to drop it in the sand or get it wet. I wish I’d brought it with me, though, because as we were walking back toward the apartment, these two old guys were walking on the beach with their elderly, tiny dog who I swear to god looked like a little toy wind-up dog. He either didn’t like the feel of sand on his feet or was very arthritic, because he was moving very, very slowly. Anyway, we ended up spending about an hour and a half walking on the beach. The spud gathered up another ton of shells, and we found a dead shrimp on the beach (but didn’t eat it). We all got splashed a few times. It was just a really nice afternoon. We headed back to the apartment and got ready for dinner. My parents had decided they wanted to celebrate the spud’s birthday (it’s on the 26th), so they told her we could go wherever she wanted to go for dinner. She decided she wanted Chinese food (it’s her favorite) and while we were out shopping we’d seen a Chinese restaurant with a buffet, so that’s where we ended going. Highly recommended. In the Galleria shopping center on North King’s Highway. It was one of the better Chinese restaurants I’ve been to. They had almost any kind of food you could want (except crab rangoon. Sob!). The spud tried fried squid and said it was really good, so I gave it a try. It tastes just like crab to me, only a little chewier, and I liked it enough to go back up to the buffet and get some more. After dinner, we drove around a little more and then went back to the apartment, where my father brought a giant chocolate chip cookie with “Happy birthday!” on it in frosting. He stuck a couple of candles in it, the spud blew out the candles, and then she opened presents from my parents. She got two skirt-and-shirt outfits, and a pair of boots that I just might have to steal for myself. We ate our pieces of the giant cookie (and ice cream too, of course!), then cleared the table and the spud and my father watched TV in the living room, my mother watched TV in her room, and I laid on my bed and read until it was time to talk to Fred. Then the spud and I were off to bed. Did I mention that the bed I slept in was too soft and that I didn’t sleep worth a crap the entire time we were in Myrtle Beach? It certainly makes me appreciate my own bed, that’s for sure. The last day of Myrtle Beach tomorrow! * * * I always imagine that if Spanky were a person, he’d sound like Lenny from Laverne & Shirley, walking into the room and saying “Heddo!” He has that same blank look on his face, that’s for sure. But does that make Meester Boogers Squiggy? ]]>

Sea Captain’s House – and had the buffet for breakfast. They had these little pastries that were just awesome, and of course they had biscuits and gravy and grits, so we were all happy. After stuffing ourselves at breakfast, we went back to the apartment where we sat around and watched a little more TV before deciding that it was such a beautiful day we needed to go shopping. My father said he’d stay at the apartment – I think he was glad the spud and I were there so he didn’t have to go shopping, because he’s not so crazy about shopping, crazy man – and my mother, the spud, and I left. During our driving around the night before my father had pointed out places to shop. Since my mother doesn’t really drive if there’s someone else to drive (I do the same thing!), I drove the Jeep and we headed straight for Barefoot Landing. Barefoot Landing is very, very cool. It’s a shopping center with a lot of little shops, then there’s a small lake with boardwalks across to the other side in three places, and on the other side are more shops and restaurants. In the lake are ducks and carp, and you can buy duck/ fish food from a dispenser and feed them.

(One of the few places we didn’t eat ice cream at while we were in SC) We got some excellent bargains in the first few shops we visited – I got a pair of Tevas to use as water shoes for $16, another pair of Tevas and some sandals. Now, when it comes to sandals, I can’t stand to wear the kind with the strap that goes between your toes, but I found a pair of Bass sandals that I liked so much I convinced myself that I could get used to the feeling. Before we got through the first five or six stores, we had to send the spud back to the Jeep twice to drop off our bags. We stopped and had Diet Cokes at Johnny Rockets and talked for a while. Refreshed, we went back out to do some more shopping. I don’t remember the name of it, but there was a shop with great t-shirts, and I ended up buying three of them for Fred (I’ll have to take pictures of those at a later date). They also had a PERFECT t-shirt for him, but I didn’t buy it for him, because it was in black, and we just can’t have dark shirts in this hair due to all the cat hair. After an ice cream cone and a trip to the bathroom, we decided to head for the other side of the lake. First we stopped and fed the ducks and fish. (click on image to see the full-sized version) (click on image to see the full-sized version) Once we got on the other side of the lake, we did more shopping (but of course) and found another place to stop and feed carp, only these carp were absolutely huge – three feet long and willing to kill each other to get to the food. There were a couple of small turtles who kept getting knocked out of the way by the carp, so I lured the carp to one part of the boardwalk, and then my mother dropped food for the turtles. (click on image to see the full-sized version) We did a little more shopping, but my feet were starting to hurt and it was getting late – I think we did about 5 hours of shopping that day – so we headed back to the apartment. On the way out of the Barefoot Landing parking lot we saw Dick’s, which a few of you had mentioned in the comments to the entry where I let y’all know I was going to Myrtle Beach. I didn’t have internet access while in Myrtle Beach, but Fred read my comments and told me what they said. I pointed it out to my mother and claimed that Fred’s sister had recommended the restaurant and suggested we go there for dinner. My father was amenable to visiting Dick’s for dinner, so after we all freshened up, we got in the car and headed back to Barefoot Landing. We went in and sat down and looked around to see a lot of the other people there wearing condom hats with obnoxious things written on them. The waitress came to take our drinks order, and then she delivered our drinks and as she was walking away she turned and flung a handful of straws at the table. (click on image to see the full-sized version) We were sitting there looking at the menu, trying to decide whether we wanted an appetizer when a guy walked up and without a word started putting bibs on the spud and my father. Since my mother and I were on the other side of the table, he threw our bibs at us and walked off. It’s somehow funny as hell when you walk into a restaurant knowing that the wait staff is going to be rude to you, and then they are. We ordered an appetizer platter (the waitress said “They’re your arteries!”) and then my mother and I ordered the half rack of ribs, the spud ordered the caesar salad, and my father ordered the fish and chips. The food was excellent, and despite the rudeness the service was excellent as well. We were almost done eating and half-hoping the waitress wouldn’t make hats for us, when she walked up with them. She eyeballed the spud, picked up one of the hats, and wrote something on it. She plopped it on the spud’s head, I read what it said, and burst out laughing. (“That rotten smell is coming from my ass”) Poor spud. She took off her hat, read what it said, and turned bright, flaming red. Then the waitress did my father’s hat, one for me, and one for my mother. (Dad – “Rogaine is screwing me”) (Mom – “Same panties day 3”) (Me – “My new thong is killing my butthole”) The worst one I saw was at a table of four guys who had the same waitress as us. The first hat she did said “My ass is killing me from the pounding I got last night” and an arrow pointing at the guy sitting next to him. The guy read it, his face turned bright flaming red, and he immediately took it off and wouldn’t put it back on. It was a good restaurant and the rudeness was entertaining (the waitress, upon asking if we wanted dessert, said “It’s gotta be better than the crap you had for dinner.”) but I don’t know if it’s so much a restaurant you want to take a kid to. The spud was pretty horrified by her hat (though she was willing to put it back on so I could take a picture of her in it; she’s such a good sport) and when she read the “My ass is killing me” hat on the guy a few tables over, she turned so red she about burst into flames. Oh, digression: I got a look from a guy sitting at the table behind ours, not once but twice. I got the definite feeling it was a “Hey, I read your journal!” look. Anyone want to confess? Anyway, we left Dick’s and then walked along the boardwalk/ bridge leading to Alligator Adventure (which was closed) and looked at the turtles, ducks, and fish in the pond. The sun was going down and it was kind of pretty. It was while I was trying to zoom in on one of the turtles that I realized that the zoom wasn’t working – that is, the lens would zoom in, but once zoomed, it wouldn’t focus on what I was trying to take a picture of, and the pictures were extremely blurry. I hadn’t realized that was going on earlier in the day, which is why I don’t have any pictures of the 3-foot-long carp to show you. (click on image to see the full-sized version) We walked back to the car and then drove over to the Alabama Theatre (that’s Alabama the group, not the state) to look through their gift shop. None of us saw anything we wanted to buy, so we got BACK in the car and went to a store called, simply enough, Bargains. If you’ve ever been to Gatlinburg or Ft. Walton Beach, you’ve seen those stores called Wings, right? Bargains is the exact same kind of store – all the t-shirts and souvenirs you could ever want. They had small aquariums with itty bitty frogs and snails in them, with a sign saying that the aquariums only needed to be cleaned out 3 – 4 times a year and you’d get a free year’s supply of food thrown in if you bought one. I spent a long, long time looking at the frogs – they were so frickin’ cute! – but in the end decided it was the last thing we needed. I still kind of wish I’d gone ahead and bought one, though! I bought some t-shirts and a keychain, and my mother bought the spud a fleece zip-up jacket, and then we headed back to the apartment for the night. More about Myrtle Beach tomorrow. Lucky you! * * * “Don’t make me come kick your ass, water bottle. Because I will, and you’ll cry like the pansy you are.” ]]>

hand Tucker Carlson’s and Paul Begala’s asses to them on a platter? I do so love the Jon Stewart. I’ve loved him since his MTV days and have loved him all these years and I called dibs on him years and years ago, so y’all just quit it with trying to claim him as your boyfriend. He is my secret boyfriend and has been for years. Even Fred approves.

* * * Let’s see… where to begin? First of all, I decided that if I was going to drive to Myrtle Beach and back, I needed to rent a car rather than drive my Jeep, because I wasn’t completely certain that my Jeep would make it. So I reserved a compact car, and when I showed up at Enterprise Saturday afternoon, they asked if it was okay if they gave me a free upgrade. “Sure!” I said, because I am flexible and kind and to get a bigger car for free? What am I going to say? “NO! I MUST have the Ford Focus!”? Please. So I expected they’d upgrade me to something like a Saturn or Ford Tempo. Not quite. What I got upgraded to was a brand-spankin-new Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo in dark red. For an entire week it cost me about $150. You just can’t beat that with a stick. Not only did it have a decent stereo and CD player, it also had cruise control, and if you’re driving long distances on interstate roads, cruise control is an absolute life saver. The spud and I left Madison at 6 am Sunday morning. She pretty much slept for the first few hours until I had to stop to pee and get something to drink, and then she… slept for another hour until it was time to stop for breakfast. We had egg mcmuffins for breakfast, stopped a few hours later for gas and snacks, drove a few more hours, stopped to pee, drove a few more hours, stopped for lunch, drove a few more hours, stopped to pee and gas up, and drove for a few more hours. You get the idea. Mapblast and Mapquest both said that the drive would take about 10 hours, but I scoffed and guffawed, because SURELY they were talking about people who would drive the speed limit and I intended to drive exactly 10 miles over the speed limit whenever possible (digression: I’ve never ever been stopped when going 10 miles over the speed limit – I’ve always understood cops “allow” you that much before they bother to stop you – and so I am usually mostly careful (when on interstate roads, mind you) to keep it to 10 miles over the speed limit. But coming back on Thursday I was going around Atlanta at 85 in a 65 mph zone, and people were blowing by me like I was standing still, including at least three cops. Maybe my silly little 10-miles-over rule is outdated?). So I did some math – some of that fuzzy math – in my head, and decided I could probably do the trip in 9 hours. Try 10 hours and 15 minutes. I guess I hadn’t factored in the fact that all those stops took time. But I will say that as much as I was dreading the drive itself, the drive really and truly wasn’t bad at ALL. I never had to look too far to find a station playing country music, I brought plenty of CDs with me, and the spud didn’t do a whole lot of chattering, thus my brain didn’t leak out of my eyes. Anyway, we got to Myrtle Beach after 5, Eastern time. The place we were headed for was Ocean Forest Colony on North Ocean Blvd, so when I got on that street I called my father to tell him that we were nearby. The spud watched the street numbers while I talked to my father, and then my father said “Wait! Stop! You just passed it!” So I had to drive up and turn around, and by the time I got back to the place, my mother was standing in the parking lot waving us in. It was a small building – three floors, four apartments on each floor – and we had to climb two flights of stairs to the second floor (though now that I think about it, if you consider the ground floor the first floor, we were really on the third floor, but there were no apartments on the bottom floor). The spud and I unpacked in about five minutes flat – this is what the floor plan looked like; we were sharing the room with two twin beds on the non-ocean side of the apartment – then we went out on the balcony and looked at the ocean, and I finally said “Let’s go down to the beach!” Which we did. We walked along the beach and my mother and I talked and the spud and my father collected shells. There were tons of shells everywhere, and it took the spud about two minutes to get a huge plastic cup full of perfect, unbroken shells. (click on image to see the full-sized version) (click on image to see the full-sized version) After half an hour or so of walking on the beach, we headed back to the apartment to get ready to go out for dinner. We sat around and talked about where we were going to go, and my father finally proclaimed that we were going to go to “the buffet place”, and we headed out in their rental Ford something-or-other car. We ended up at The Great American Steak & Buffet Company, which I’ve seen before, but never been in. I do love me a buffet, and this was an awesome buffet with anything you could ever want. I had an excellent piece of fried chicken, some seafood salad, and a bunch of other stuff which I can’t recall at the moment. I’d definitely recommend it. After dinner we drove around Myrtle Beach for a little while. It was dark, so we drove verrrry slowly past some of the houses across the street from the beach. A lot of people in Myrtle Beach apparently don’t really think to close their blinds, so we had a good time peering into lit rooms and seeing how they had their houses set up. When our sightseeing tour was over, we headed back to the apartment and sat around reading and watching TV. I had to wait until 10 to call Fred, since I was on Eastern time and he was still on Central time, so I talked to him for half an hour or so, then went straight to bed. At home, I sleep in a queen-size bed, so the twin bed I slept in while in Myrtle Beach took some getting used to. Plus, it was too soft (I prefer a firm mattress) and I kept hearing an annoying humming noise all night long. At 5 am I finally realized that the humming noise that was making my brain vibrate was the ceiling fan which I’d turned on the night before. I turned it off and the humming stopped, but without any air circulating I had to kick all my covers off because I started sweating almost immediately. (Good thing for the spud I was sleeping in shorts and a t-shirt instead of nekkid like I do at home, eh?) When I stumbled out of bed at about 7:45 the spud had just gotten up and she and my father were out on the balcony looking down at the beach. It was warming up, the sun was shining, the seagulls were screeching, and it looked like we had a beautiful day ahead of us. (click on image to see the full-sized version) This is getting long, so more Myrtle Beach recap tomorrow, mm’kay? * * * Licky McLickerson. ]]>

South Carolina is gorgeous and I want to move there RIGHT NOW. But alas, no mountains close by, so I won’t be convincing Fred to move there anytime soon. Hmph. Real entry Monday, I promise.]]>

Isn’t it odd that I’m number THREE to mention wanting to see the inside of your fridge & freezer. It must be from all the times I’ve watched Cribs on MTV. The 2nd picture would be a shot of the gym in the garage. The 3rd picture would be a shot of both of your vehicles together. No wait!! Change the 2nd picture to the inside of your closet! You seem like such a clean person, I’d like to see how you organize your closet. See yesterday’s entry for the inside of the fridge. We have two freezers, so here’s the big one we keep in the garage:

Those zillions of brown bags at the bottom of the freezer are bags of coffee. There’s usually a lot of chicken in here, but we just used up the rest of it. We have way more freezer space than we really need. Here’s the freezer in the house: You can see the big-ass version of this picture here. I’m going with the shots of the gym instead of the two vehicles side-by-side, because Fred’s vehicle is at work with him and I just put up a picture of his vehicle yesterday. Just imagine a very dusty amethyst Jeep Grand Cherokee Limited (mine) sitting next to a [vehicle type deleted] (heh) and you’ll know what that picture would look like. The gym: The gym set, and part of the benches. See the big-ass version of this picture here. The elliptical trainer, the benches, and over by the freezer, the bicep/ tricep bench. See the big-ass version of this picture here. And the closet: I do NOT know what on earth makes you think I’m a clean person, Lori. Have I mentioned that I can go weeks without cleaning the bathroom? I hate cleaning. And the closet’s not terribly organized. To the right hanging off the long side of the closet are all my hangable clothes. The stuff on the end are Fred’s work shirts. To the left (though you can’t really see them) on the top are Fred’s t-shirts, and on the bottom are his jeans and shorts. Um, I swear that’s not as organized as it sounds… Several people wanted to see a picture of the three of us together: Yeah, it’s an old one. It’s the best you’re gonna get for now. And Martha wanted to see my toes: That crease by my ankle is because I just took my sock off to take this picture. That foot’s the one that was splashed by grease seven (!) years ago. Can you tell I’ve never had a pedicure? More pictures in upcoming entries! * * * It’s starting to get cold. I’m sitting in front of my computer, and I am FREEZING, and the air is turned off, but I’m still sitting here shivering. I suppose that wearing a t-shirt when it’s in the mid-60s outside is not the way to go. I guess I’m going to need to go find the cardigan I wear all winter long, and put that on. I need to do laundry, but I don’t wanna go upstairs. I need to go to the post office, but I’m feeling lazy. I’m thirsty, but I’m too lazy to go find my bottle of water. I’m just going to sit here and whine about being cold and thirsty, I suppose. Sounds like a plan! We watched Wife Swap last night and when the dreadlocked environmentalist burst into tears not once but many times and the popeyed freaky woman sobbed loudly and apologized to the stuffed animals and sobbed “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” we laughed our asses off. Wife Swap is far and away better than Trading Spouses – it’s clear that Trading Spouses is a half-assed knockoff of Wife Swap. I’ve started cross-stitching again after many months of not cross-stitching at all. Two years ago I told the spud that if she chose a cross-stitch kit out of a catalog, I’d order it and cross-stitch it for her. I assumed she’d choose a kitty picture or something like that. Instead, she chose a picture of the Statue of Liberty with an American flag behind it, and “United We Stand” above it. Not what I expected, I’ll tell you that much. It’s not a huge picture, but the Statue of Liberty is taking forever to do, and it’s boring as hell. I guess next time I’ll think before I make an offer like that! Okay, I’m going to call this an entry. They can’t all be award-winners, folks. Sorry ’bout that. Oh, wait – no I’m not! Y’all have a good weekend. * * * (Picture taken by Fred and stolen by me.) ]]>

here.

* * * Two or three people pointed out that since Gmail offers such a large amount of storage space I don’t need to delete anything anyway, but one of my Gmail accounts is used for nothing but notify emails and I generally get anywhere between ten and twenty of those a day, plus the Change Detection emails, and I don’t think there’s any reason to save any of those. Plus on my non-notify email, I just refuse to save the “What’s for dinner?” emails. Maybe someday I’ll wish I had, but I kinda doubt it. * * * Okay, time for some requested pictures. rundmc wanted: 1.Pics of Fred in his red shorts. 2.Pics of Fred in his red shorts. 3.Pics of Fred in his red shorts. Fred won’t pose for pictures in his red shorts. He’s a party pooper! Sandy wanted to see: 1) Your purse 2) Inside of your fridge 3) Your collection of bath products My purse: It’s a microfiber Healthy Back Bag from LL Bean, and I love it, not only because it’s better on my back than a regular purse, but also because it has convenient outside pockets for my keys, cellphone, and sunglasses, so I don’t have to go digging for those. The inside of the fridge: See the huge full-size version here. My collection of bath products: This is literally the stuff I use in the bathtub – bath bombs from Newfoundland Naturals (and one I got last Christmas from my sister), bath salts from Newfoundland Naturals, a couple of packets of bath salts that I got in Hawaii, and Pretty Baby Herbal Bath Tea from these folks. The bath tea is wonderful because it’s so incredibly soothing and when my skin is at it’s itchiest, it’s the only thing that helps. The Newfoundland Naturals stuff is amazing because it smells SO good, and you don’t get any annoying floaties in the tub like you do with some of the Lush bath bombs. Lastly, many many many of you wanted to see a picture of Fred’s new vehicle, because it’s killing you to know what he’s driving. He kindly took the picture himself, just for you. It was getting dark out, so it might be a little bit blurry: There’ll be more pictures in upcoming entries; I didn’t want to put them all up in the same entry. * * * So, the spud has a blog on a blogging site (and no, I’m not giving you the link because the last time she had a blog on a different site and I shared the link, a couple of people decided to be assholes, so blame it on them) and most of her friends do too. Naturally, I check out her blog and then check out the blogs of her friends, because a mother needs to be careful that her kid isn’t doing something like posting her phone number online (and horrifyingly, a LOT of these kids put their cell phone numbers on their blogs, yikes!) Some of the blogs are well-written, if not interesting (of course, I’m not 15, so I’m probably not in their desired demographic anyway and I’m sure they’d find me incredibly annoying and boring and whatEVerrrrrrrr) but the majority of the blogs are just so poorly written to the point of illiteracy that it makes my eyes bleed. ANYway, one of the kids who has a blog and leaves comments on the spud’s blog is the kid who asked her out last Spring, and then had to break up with her because she doesn’t attend church. Although I might be biased because I can’t stand the kid because he’s a whiny little bitch (and thus we shall call him “Phil” after the father of all whiny little bitches, Phil Hellmuth) he has one of the worst sites that make it clear he’s a friggin’ idiot. But I’m probably biased because he made my baby cry. So late last week he posted a comment on the spud’s site saying that he was getting a car, woohoo! So she posts in HIS comments and asks what kind of car, and “do you have an actual license yet?” and then HE posts in HER comments and says “No, not yet. God. U sux the fun out of everything.” Apparently he’s been kind of snappish with her lately, which I think is out of line, because hello? It’s not like the whiny little shitweasel is her BOYFRIEND or anything. So she goes over to his site and posts in HIS comments that she’s sick of his fucking attitude and he can shove it and what the hell is up his fucking ass anyway? And they are NOT friends anymore! Buh-bye! I read her post in his comments (and yeah, I’m so lame for stalking my own child’s blog, aren’t I? Do I have too much time on my hands, or what?) and I laughed my ASS off. Because she’s always so calm and shy and conflict-avoidance, just like her MOMMA, and here she is, putting the smack down on shithead, complete with dropping the f-bomb all over the place! Then I made Fred read it, and he teased her about it, and she turned all red and got embarrassed and I think she thought she was going to be in trouble, but I gave her a high five and said “It’s about TIME you told him how it is! You go!” and she looked pleased. Now, when Fred wants to tease her, he says “U sux the fun out of everything.”, or if she makes a comment about something, he gives her a fake glare and said “Is that because U sux the fun out of everything?” and she thinks it’s funny as shit. That’s what it’s like in this house – we make fun of each other all the time, but if some whiny little bitch hurts my kid’s feelings, we band together to make it clear that he’s a ridiculous little ass and we mock him forever and ever. I believe the spud will find that particular life skill valuable as she grows up. * * * Miz Poo will kick your ASS. Because she’s a badass, that’s right. Just like her Momma. ]]>

* * * I watched a show yesterday about Gretchen Wilson (the country singer who sings Redneck Woman and Here for the Party). She’s adorable – I LOVE HER. It’s all about the women I love in today’s entry, I guess. Wimmin rewl.

* * * “What the-?” ]]>