Friday Night at The Bib

Bibs is a rude restaurant. It's not for people who are easily offended. From the minute you walk in the door, you are harrassed, called names and are subject to be food target of the raucously charged staff.

Upon entering, a large plastic bib is placed around your neck to protect your clothes and to identify your new dinner name. My name for the evening was Belle Lee Dancer. Some other examples were Francine U. Naked, Luna Tick, and for the bachelorette, Joy Ride. There was a total of 11 girls altogether and we had a great time "giving it back" to our waiters, Dick Teaser and Door Key.

A person at a neighboring table got particularly rowdy and ended up being taped into their seat for the night. I tried to tone it down after I saw that. I don't like to be confined.

The food came late but the drinks did not. I don't need to elaborate on the effects of booze in an empty stomach right? I'll leave some things to my readers' imaginations. But here are some pictures so you can get a feel for the atmosphere and the fun.

Our group. Notice the lobster claw salt shaker in the middle of the table? That was in my purse the next morning.

The bachelorette, with her drink. See what I mean? The fish bowl was also in my purse the next morning. Yeah, it's more of a bag than a purse. Check out the girl at the very back. I don't know who this is even though she was with us. She DID NOT have a good time.

Me and Rosa after the fish bowl drinks. She has the best laugh EVER.

After further review of the contents of my memory stick, It would be to my benefit if I stopped posting pictures now. We continued the party with a trip to the roller rink, and then back to the bachelorette's home. Good thing I live right next door.

Spoken Between True Friends

The girls on my street are going out for dinner and drinks tonight, while the guys stay home and cook moose steaks and drink beer. Most of our gatherings are couples events, but once in a while we go our separate ways and let loose a little bit. I've been looking forward to tonight - a chance to leave work and cleaning and kids and just relax in the company of good girlfriends.

Good girlfriends. Tonight's outing got me thinking about the different types of friends I have in my life. I have you all, my blogging buddies who know more about me than most of my neighbors because I've let you into my sick little mind. I have childhood friends that keep in touch only out of respect for the amount of years we put in when we were growing up. Had we met later in life, I doubt we'd be close. I have my real life friends that I laugh with and drink with and share fun and work alike. But nothing compares to the bond between true friends. A true friend to me is someone you feel completely comfortable around, someone you can tell anything to without fear of being judged and a true friend is someone who will tell you what you need to hear.

I have three such friends.

Clew, my long distance best friend is my compass and support. I don't remember not knowing her. We've seen each other through heartache and happiness, silliness and fights. I run to the computer to tell her about people who've pissed me off, stupid things I've done and when I need advice on how to keep myself out of the nut house. Even though she is geographically distant, she is never far from my heart.

Then there is Molly. She is my neighbor and my best, real life accessible friend. I can call her day or night and she's always there for me. She is my drinking buddy and my confidante. We've shared moments of laughter when neither could stand up, held each other's hair to puke, held a nervous hand at the hospital, and have racked up countless hours of conversation.

Sherries friendship goes beyond the realm of friends. She knows EVERYTHING about me and I her. No matter what happens in each of our lives, even when we don't talk for months, we will always be there for each other, our bond is deeper than blood.

Each of these friends hold a special place in my life and I couldn't live happily without either of them. The following are conversational tidbits between us that let's me know for certain, we are true friends.

CONVERSATIONS WITH CLEW:

Clew: Man I gotta fart!
Me: letting one rip
Both: hysterical laughter

**********************

Me: What do you think of these colors together?
Clew: cocks head back slightly and raises an eyebrow You might want to rethink them?
Me: Yeah?
Clew: looking side to side Unless you want to look my grandmother's afghan.

CONVERSATIONS WITH MOLLY:

Me: I hope I don't pass out
Molly: If you pass out, I'm having them pierce your nipples too!

**********************

Molly: Hello parking lot pavers! flirting with a couple guys as she's getting into the car
Me: Get in the car you whore.

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At a clothing store trying on this cute little brown pair of cotton gouchos.
Me: Ready, I'm coming out.
Molly: laughter ~ the kind that you try to stifle and it ends up rushing between your teeth causing spit to be sprayed everywhere.
Me: shutting the door ~ Thanks.
Molly: still laughing
Me: Ok, you can stop already. I'm taking them off.
Molly: laughing ~ I can't help it. You look like a clown.

And this is how I know they are my true friends. Not just the kind that say, "you can call me anytime". The ones that have proved their loyalty and their love to me over and over again. Who could ask for better friends?

The Bumblebee

Aerodynamically, the bumblebee shouldn't be able to fly, but the bumblebee doesn't know this so he goes on flying anyway. ~Mary Kay Ash

Like every child, I began my life as the bumblebee. Never questioning my limits. Never giving impossiblity a second thought, certain that I could achieve all my wild dreams.

As child turned teenager, social acceptance taught me to doubt the very foundation of ideas that made me unique. She taught me that I had to make others happy even if it meant not being true to myself. She showed me that my fragile wings shouldn't be able to carry my awkward body.

Years of believing these notions faded to reluctant acceptance that I sold myself short. I killed the bumblebee without ever knowing the beauty of that blissful ignorance; before I could cement that concept into my personality; before I was able to arrive at my full potential.

Co Co Muk

I was worried that my baby would never talk. His first words were "all gone" spoken in perfect English and "det dow" for get down. Those are the only two phrases he said for seven months. At 18 months he has yet to look at me and say "mama", but he'll pull on the handle of the refrigerator and yell "co co muk" when he want's his chocolate milk.

I reinforce by asking, "Do you want your cocoa milk?" which sends the dog into a hysterical frenzy. He comes from anywhere he is in the house with a high pitched wine, runs past the refrigerator, (Drew yells "DET DOW!") stops by the back door and shakes uncontrollably for like ten minutes. Meanwhile the hair is leaping out of his body and piling up on the floor in black drifts.

I had to shave him. Not bald or anything, but his fur is now only 1/4" long. He's sporting stripes up his back from the clippers. The other dogs in the neighborhood are pointing and laughing all because Drew needs his co co muk.

Cue Big Top Music

Bump-ba-da-da-da-da-dump-de-da-da-bump

Yeah.

This is the kind of circus-ry that goes on in our household. I was playing this game with the little one...

You know, when you balance them on your feet and they pretend they are an airplane. He was having fun until the 14 year old thought she should get a turn.

Check him out in the back ground waiting for another go at it. Once she was up, it tickled her tummy and she started wriggling around until she collapsed on me busting my nose. It's not really broke, but it sure hurt like it was. I hate that feeling ~ the eyes water, the nose runs and you're certain it's blood and then you have a dull headache the rest of the night.

Damn kids.

Big Dudee Roo and the Raptors

Friday night was my oldest son's big debut with his band Big Dudee Roo and the Raptors. Steve is a self-taught guitar player and while I knew he was a good player, I had no idea their band would be so good. Or that they'd all be that comfortable up on stage. They performed two songs at the talent show, "Throw Your Hatred Down" by Neil Young, and "My Generation" by The Who. Their next gig is at Summerfest where they will play in the afternoon. They didn't make the night slot, but for an up and coming band, I think that's pretty good.

This is Steve playing his solo. My daughter took it and it's blurry, but it's the only one I've got.

And me and Emily ~ the proud groupies.

Captain Crash and the Beauty Queen from Mars

I was confronted with a rather awkward incident this afternoon.

Let me set the scene.

In an impulsive decision to descend on my house in a freakish cleaning frenzy, I tossed a load of whites into the washer before tackling my acres of hardwood flooring. Because I was wearing some white capris that I wanted washed, I pealed those off and threw them in with the mix. I proceeded to vacuum the floor in my underwear and blue, Redondo Beach hooded sweatshirt.

The 18 month old who was toddling around with his plastic zoo animals kept handing me shoes. For some reason, he's engrossed with me having my flip flops on. To keep him happy and out from under the vacuum head, I took his offering and slid my right foot into a black flip flop. Shortly after that, he carried a bright pink plastic garden clog to me, which I distractedly placed on my left foot. He stood drinking his apple juice and watching me suck up dog hair, satisfied that my outfit was complete.

I didn't hear the knock at the front door.

My neighborhood is of the variety that people borrow stuff and when they return it, they don't hesitate to knock on your door and if you don't answer, just open it to put whatever they are returning on the inside. One might even venture all the way to the kitchen to place said item on the counter. Being that he heard the vacuum and not thinking that I might not be properly dressed, one of my neighbors steps into my entryway and encounters me in this costume. Stunned would best describe the emotion that entered his face.

At this point, explanations might only complicate the situation further so I turned off the vacuum and shimmied my sweatshirt down as far as it would go before I croaked out a pathetic, "Hi". My emotion wasn't quite embarrassment, but rather resigned disappointment at realizing the only shred of cool I may have had, is forever gone.

I'm back Y'ALL

You know the old running joke about being forced to watch slides of someone else's family vacation, right? Well, contrary to my username, I am naive enough to think that you've all been dying to hear the details of my trip to Myrtle Beach and see the evidence in pictures. Right? Yes? No? Well, if you aren't interested, just scroll to the bottom and comment anyway.

This is me on the way down before the kids started picking fights with each other, before the air conditioning broke and before the dog in the room above us where we stopped for rest barked all night long! You don't want to see the picture of me when we rolled into Myrtle Beach after an additional 12 hours on the road!

Once we were there and had a good night's rest, we were ready to hit the beach. The weather was extraordinary even though the water was freezing, but you can't go all the way to the ocean and not go in at least once. So we learned to boogie board and skim board until Molly got stung by a jelly fish and that was all the ocean I needed.

Since the waves were too rough for the little guy and the jellies were abundant, we decided to bring the ocean to Drew. He loved having his own personal oasis to play in.

No vacation would be complete without a trip to the emergency room. This was a mild emergency but I was unsure of what to do and erred on the side of caution. Just before a dinner show on Thursday night, Drew swallowed something. We have no idea what. About five minutes later, he started squeaking. Just like a dog toy. We weren't even sure it was coming from him at first, but every time we pushed on his tummy....the squeaking sound. Maybe whatever he swallowed was partially lodged in there allowing some air to pass through making the whistling sound. But what if it moved and blocked all air flow? So we headed to Seacoast Emergency, where he was evaluated immediately and then told to wait for an x-ray. Two hours later when we still hadn't been seen, and Drew had fallen asleep and quit squeaking, the hospital had a major trauma come in and we left. I checked with the triage nurse first and she agreed with my assessment, gave me a number to call if we had trouble in the night and sent us off.

Besides lazing on the beach, we saw lots of dinner shows and attractions. The Grand Cirque, which is a spin off of Cirque Du Soleil, Dixie Stampede and The Medieval Times Dinner Show, which were all awesome. We went to the Ripley's Aquarium which was also cool, but not worth the cost, in my opinion.

While dinner at The House of Blues was very tasty and the ambiance was extremely cool, I could've done without the dive-bombing BAT! At the very least, they could have comped our meals for having to dine with such a rabid creature darting and weaving throughout the place. I saw the thing before anyone else did and let out a small scream when it darted from the restroom alcove right at my head. That's when the waiter asked me to be quiet so I wouldn't cause a panic. Yeah, right! You can brink my check now. It wasn't long before the entire restaurant was covering their heads with their linen napkins and giggling, pointing and shrieking. We had much better luck at Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville restaurant. That place was so festive and of course I ordered a "cheeseburger in paradise" and a "frozen concoction to help me hang on".

With all this excitement I bet your wondering how I can successfully pull off an equally climactic ending to this vacation. Right? Well the most interesting event of the week by far was the piercing. Yes friends, me and Molly mixed a big blender of Pina Coladas, snuck away from the families and got our belly buttons pierced.

Even though the sign out front promised a 100% pain free piercing, it was far from pain free. Not terrible, but I did feel a little queasy when it was over. I picked out a clear sparkly ring, but the tech accidentally put the blue one that Molly picked out in me, so I'm sporting a blue ring for the next five weeks and I got my original pick for free.

WARNING****PLIMCO*****WARNING****PLIMCO*****WARNING ~ the following is not a half naked cartoon me, it's the real thing, so if you need to excuse yourself for a few moments, please do so and return after you've composed yourself. After all this blog is rated G. Well, okay, not really, but censor yourself.

DURING

AFTER

Because I'm sure I am boring you with these vacation details and because I'm sick of uploading pictures, I'm ending this recap for now. Besides, I don't want to be home just yet and looking at the pictures only reminds me of how nice it was to not have to work.