This One Time, In New Orleans…

Okay, so. I spent last weekend in New Orleans with some friends for the Red Dress Run.  This was the first time I had ever been in New Orleans just to screw off. Before I’ve always gone down there to do grown-up responsible shit. School trips, family, that sort of stuff but never in the 15 years that I’ve lived here had I gone down to play.


And play we did.  We started the weekend at the Saints preseason game. My friend Fiona & I spent most of the game (that I was there for, traffic kept me away until after halftime) gossiping & photo-bombing the guy in front of us as he took selfies. He and his buddy thought it was funny and kept instructing us on what kind of faces to make in the photos. (Is it photo-bombing if your victims know you’re doing it??)  Anyway, after we left the game, we hit up a couple of bars. My friends in their cute Saints gear and me in my funky workout gear.


Yep, my workout gear. I, having completely underestimated New Orleans traffic, drove straight down from Physical Therapy thinking I’d stop at the hotel, clean up, THEN go to the game being all clean & cute & stuff. Not so much. Traffic forced me to abandon that plan and just suck it up and go out in my stanky-ass workout clothes.


Sidenote: It’s really hard to feel cute and sexy in a bar in workout clothes.


After hitting a few bars, Fiona & I decide to head on over to our hotel and check in. It’s about 1AM at this point. Our hotel was this place in the French Quarter between Bourbon St. and Armstrong Park where the set-up for the Red Dress Run was the next day. It’s probably a couple hundred years old and was expanded over the years in the only direction you can go in the Quarter. Sideways.


Anyway, after locating the lobby, I get in line behind the lady in front of me and begin waiting my turn. It must’ve taken me a full TWO MINUTES to realize something was amiss and another 30 seconds or so to figure out what it was.

The woman in front of me was Nekkid.  Not COMPLETELY starkers, she was wearing bikini bottoms, but close enough to it that as soon as I realized it, I began to surreptitiously take photos with my phone. None of which were worth a damn, unfortunately. Otherwise I would have tweeted them with the caption “Y’all ain’t gonna believe this shit!!”. Timing and the poor lighting were against me…


Apparently this woman and her “Group” come down every year, to this hotel, and be nekkid. The hotel had changed management and management was not down with them being nekkid and they WERE NOT happy. I hafta admit, I was kinda happy because in true, real life fashion, this wasn’t swimsuit model nekkid, it was People of Wawl-Mark nekkid. That, my friends, is some BAD NEKKID.


After the nekkid woman left, I got all checked in, got a map to our room, (that should have been aclue) and Fiona and I followed the bellhop and our other friends to our room.


As we’re going to our rom, I’m looking around. There were small courtyards with fountains, pools, and wonderful brick pavers on the ground.  The rooms that faced onto the courtyards looked like little bungalows. I was absolutely taken with the place so far.


Until we got to OUR room, that is.


We took our key (an ACTUAL KEY, mind. None of that elec-tronic bullshit here!!) and triumphantly threw open the door to our little abode for the weekend and drew in a collective gasp that was NOT of delight.


Ho-Lee Shee-yut!!  I’m not a room snob or anything but this room was… different, from anywhere I’ve stayed in AWHILE.  First, only about half the light bulbs actually worked so it had a very Bates Motel vibe to it. Secondly, our room had a WINDOW UNIT!!! I haven’t seen a window unit since the 80’s!! Said window unit was attached to a LIGHT SWITCH so it only had two speeds. ON and OFF.  I don’t even want to discuss the powder blue linoleum in the bathroom that was obviously a replacement because it ALMOST reached the baseboards and the questionable stain in the middle of the carpet.


Fiona and I had no words. This was a last-minute reservation due to an un-forseen change in the number of people we thought could occupy the room we WERE booked into and keep our sanity. We were pretty much stuck in that room for the duration.


We first began calling the hotel “The Hotel” making the air quotes with our fingers. We then began referring to it as our “Hostel”. Then we simply called it the “Hostile”.


However, we didn’t get killed to death, neither one of us woke up with a rat sitting on our chest, we ended up just the two of us in a room instead of four women crammed into one room, and we now know where we NEVER want to stay in New Orleans EVER again.  So there’s THAT…


Also, the Red Dress Run was FABULOUS. I plan on doing it EVERY YEAR. I got to hear Cowboy Mouth afterward. I met some fabulous new people. AND I had some of the best Chocolate Martinis at the bar in the W Hotel that I have ever poured down my throat. All in all, the weekend was top-notch.





2012 Wasn’t So Bad. Bring On the New Year

I’m sitting here in the relative quiet of my living room, freshly showered from my morning walk/run, listening to the dishwasher take care of the breakfast dishes and I’m thinking about how 2012 didn’t suck. As a whole, it may have been a banner year.

We traveled most of the summer. Granted, they were only weekend trips but, hey, we had fun doing it.

I went to my first Blogger conference. Aiming Low Non Con was the perfect Conference Newbie experience. Yes, I had a meltdown (or two) but once I got over myself I had a ball. I met some of the Bloggers I adore in person and met some other kick-ass bloggers to stalk. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

I’ve forged new friendships. Some here on the interwebz and some in real life. There’s a good bit of overlap & that makes me happy.

I’ve re-connected with some of my extended family. We’d lost touch over the years but finding them (and my roots) again has been a blessing beyond compare.

I’ve opened up about my mentally ill daughter. You guys have no idea how hard that was to “Put DOWN” as my friend Scott says. I did though. I put it down. I put it out there and it was, perhaps, the most freeing thing I’d done for myself in a long while. It’s allowed me to come out from under that burden and BREATHE. I will never be able to properly articulate my gratitude for all the pure LOVE you guys gave me after that. I can only cry happy tears all over my laptop and say THANK YOU.

I got to celebrate my ECB’s birthday with her in Washington, DC. Spending time with my oldest friend(s), people who have seen me through quite a bit in the last 20 years, was something I couldn’t have done (for financial reasons) even five years ago. That was so good for my soul.

Like I said, 2012 didn’t suck.

2013 isn’t looking so bad either. So far I have The Parade, my very FIRST 5K, and another trip to Washington, DC in the works so I can watch Miss A march in the Cherry Blossom Parade.

Here’s hoping for another kick-ass year.


My Birthday Purse

Okay, so. Last weekend was my birthday. We were travelling so we didn’t really do anything.  We celebrated this weekend instead.  We went out to dinner last night then saw The Importance of Being Earnest.  Today TWH took me to get my birthday present.  When he asked me ( all FOUR times) what I wanted for my birthday, I told him “A new Coach Purse”.  I had one I’d bought last year that looked like this:

And I managed to cram it FULL of THIS:

So today we went down to the Coach Outlet (because I’m not willing to pay full price) and I picked one out.   It’s a good size & has a ton of pockets.

Aaaaaaaannnnnndddd…. I bought a Diaper Bag.  Yep, you read that right. My brand new full of awesome purse turned out to be a fancy, schmancy, diaper bag.  My first clue was THIS:

A CHANGING PAD!!!  There was a changing pad in my new purse!!  That coupled with the weirdly unfashionable shoulder strap you see hanging out of the bag led me to look more closely at my new purse.  See those pockets in the picture above??  They’re for BOTTLES!!  There’s also a pocket for my cell phone, and other pockets for crap like wipes and a change of clothes.

Did I care??  HELL NO!!  My new purse IS full of awesome!!  It’s big & has a shit-ton of pockets for all my stuff.  I LOVE to have an organized purse.  A pocket for everything & everything in it’s pocket.

The best part is, I still have extra pockets!!  I can cram more crap into it!!  With my trips to Non-Con & Virginia coming up, that’s gonna be a huge bonus!!

I’m gonna rock my diaper purse like a BOSS!! Like. A. Boss!!


Me & ECB

Okay, so. Next month I’m hopping on a plane to Virginia for my East Coast Bestie’s XXth (redacted to protect my ass) birthday.  Why??  Because she sent me a text message asking me to.  I’d actually been thinking about flying up & surprising her anyway.  It’s been a couple of years since we’ve seen each other & we need some face-to-face.

This woman has been my friend for 20 years now.  We’ve been friends this long despite distance because I can do things like text her the link to The Bloggess’ latest post and she GETS it.  I don’t get any questions. There’s no lengthy discussion, just “Yeah, I think I’d have to pass on that”.  Then when I text her back with “It does NOT seem full of awesome”.  She responds simply “No awesome at all”.

Yes, in 20 years, there have been arguments.  We’d go months without speaking then one of us would call the other one up and be all “What’s up Sugartits??” and things would be fine.  Now, thanks to smartphones, we can just send each other ecards and memes with gratuitous use of the word “Fuck” and everything will be okay.   We’re awesome like that.  And kinda lazy & vain. Holding grudges causes wrinkles people!! And it’s WORK.  We avoid WORK as much as possible.  Mostly because it’s hard & distracts us from the important things in life. Families, shoes, purses, coffee, & wine. Not necessarily in that order.

ECB has seen me through TWO divorces, TWO weddings, THREE childbirths, several moves, Miss A moving away, The Darkness, and trivial bitching when necessary.  She has always been forthright in her opinions. Never shying away from what really needed to be said. She has also been the first person to tell me “I hate him/her!!  I hope he/she DIES!!”.  She’d also be right there helping me plan their demise, if necessary.

ECB & I got off to a rocky start but that woman has my back any day of the week, no matter where in the world she is. She’ll cut a bitch.

And THAT’S why I love her.


Hello, I’m Bitchy McBitchypants

Okay, so. I am currently hiding in my bedroom writing this. Mainly because my laptop stays in the living room. On the coffee table. So I have no real place to write. Obviously, the Dawgs don’t give a shit about whether or not I’m writing because one will merrily bite my fingers as I type and the other will just bark at me incessantly.  The Human types aren’t often a whole lot better.  So I haven’t been writing. And it’s making me cranky.

Not to say that’s the ONLY thing that’s making me cranky. Since the beginning of June, I have made 2 (8 hour) trips to Austin, TX. I have pulled up floors in 2 bathrooms & repainted one of them. I have gone up to see the In-Laws. Aaaaaaaannnnnnnddddd…. We’re leaving for Florida.  In between all of this I have struggled (unsuccessfully) to keep up with the house, the laundry, & various appointments.

Now, I felt a great deal of accomplishment at getting the floors & walls taken care of.

I thoroughly enjoyed my trips to Austin to visit both of our families.  We’re currently looking into moving there.

I can’t wait to go to Florida.  I love the beach.

I just haven’t stopped much this month and it’s making me tired.  Couple that with the fact that TWH is out of town (again).  Which is voluntary on his part (again).  Which means I’m doing EVERYTHING here for a few days (again).

Throw that ALL together, toss in some PMS for good measure and you’ve got the perfect recipe for One Cranky Mama.

I’m gonna take the first opportunity I get to sleep in my own bed on a Sunday and SLEEP IN.  I pity the fool who disturbs my slumber…


Adventures in Margaritas

Okay, so. TWH & I are originally from this tiiiiiiiiinnnnyyyy little town in north Louisiana. This town is dry. I shit you not. After I have no idea how many years of hard fought council meetings and such, the Pizza places were finally allowed to serve BEER. Yep we’re progressive as hell here in the Bible Belt.
My hometown being dry led to the existence of a small town (I think it was ACTUALLY a village) called Dixie Inn. Dixie Inn was a red light, 4 liquor stores, and a Hamburger Happiness when we were growing up.(It’s that and a couple of restaurants now) It’s just outside the city limits and it’s sole purpose is to make sure the citizens of my small town can get liquored up at will.  Many a high school weekend began with us pooling our money and driving out to Dixie Inn to procure the finest Boones Farm and Budweiser had to offer.
When we went back to our hometown for Easter a few weeks ago, I took the opportunity to meet up with a girlfriend I hadn’t seen since high school. We agreed to meet at a Mexican restaurant there in D.I.  TWH & I got there early. (Side note: TWH was there mostly because his folks sold their house in town and moved out to their place on the Lake Claiborne which is 40 minutes or better from anywhere and I have no idea how to get to or from there. In another 5 years or so, I may be able to do it on my own but it’s still new and I’d wind up in Arkansas if I tried to make the trip myself)  Anyways, we went in & got a table. We decided to have a drink while we waited. Our server came by and we both ordered a Top Shelf Margarita on the Rocks. And a water. Ya gotta stay hydrated.  Our server turned to go then paused. She turned around and asked “Top Shelf… You mean Patron right??”. We said yes, indeed, that’s what we meant by Top Shelf and server girl very nearly SKIPPED off to the bar. I asked TWH “Is it just me or does Server Chickie seem a little extra excited about our drink order?”. TWH said he figured they’d probably had that bottle of Patron for YEARS and they were gonna have to dust it off and break the seal on it to make our drinks. I’m surprised there wasn’t a band.

P.S. TWH says that if I keep blogging/tweeting about drinking that people are gonna be surprised when they meet me & I’m sober.

P.P.S. I argued that, conversely, if they ever meet me and I’m shitfaced they’ll think it’s par for the course.

It’s kind of a win-win don’t ya think??