Lipstick, Margaritas and Hairspray

As you may know (or not really care), Mac travels for his job.  So I do those irritating little things you  have to do in person for him.  And that is where this adventure begins….

Mac asked me to get his car inspected while he was in Germany.  Now, this is his  baby, the car he bought as a Mid-Life-Crisis car 10  years ago (I offered to get a personalized plate that said “Midlife” but he didn’t seem as enthusiastic about that as I did…go figure).     And this car….I HATE this car.  It’s too low for my big self (any time my butt is lower than my knees, I’m gonna have trouble getting up….duh!), it small inside (note ‘big self’ above), it’s long and loud.  But,  of course I’ll get it inspected while he’s out-of-town ~ no problem.

He’s gonna be gone 5 days….surely I can make this happen.

Day 1:  Ah, I have 4 more days….

Day 2:  Nope, it’s raining

Day 3:  Still raining

Day 4:  Lots of errands to run, sure don’t want to have to drive that stupid car everywhere

Day 5:  He’s on an airplane and will land in 3 hours…dammit, I gotta do this today

So I cram myself in the car, drive to the car inspection place and all is happy.  I’m feeling pretty good, and it IS lunch time, so I drive it to lunch.

Now, I am never without a glass of tea ~ there is ALWAYS one near me at home and when I go to a restaurant, I always get a cup of tea to-go.  That’s just in case I die of thirst on the 10 minute ride home, because you just can’t be too careful.

Ah, my beloved Sweet Tea!

As I’m walking to THE CAR, I remember that Mac has NEVER let any food or drink substances sully the interior of his car…..there’s a minuscule chance a drop will spill or a crumb will fall and the sparkling leather will be forever ruined.  (And WHAT IS UP with the Armor-all EVERYWHERE…geez!  The steering wheel feels like the oiled up leg of a stripper at closing time….uh, not that I’d know or anything….).

But, what the hell….he’s on an AIRPLANE for God’s sake.  I’ll be super careful, it’s only 10 miles and my drink won’t spill.

I need to insert something very important right here:  I never litter.  Never Never Never Never litter.  It’s against my religion, moral compass, upbringing and psyche.  I never litter.

Ever.

So I’m driving down the interstate (because I want to get home to my truck as fast as I can and while I am certainly capable of driving a stick shift, having learned as a 10-year-old shifting gears for my mom on trips to and from Florida, I much prefer the convenience and ease of an automatic), be-bopping to the tunes and maybe…just maybe….being slightly over enthusiastic about passing slower cars and darting in and out of traffic with the big, low, long, sleek race car I’m driving….and as I reach over to take a drink of my sweet tea, my hand brushes along the gear stick and I feel….liquid.

Apparently, there is a tiny hole in the bottom of my to-go cup……

OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD

No, don’t PANIC!  I’ll just wipe up the spill and …. DO WHAT!  Toss the cup?  NO, because I don’t FREAKIN LITTER!  And are there ANY napkins, paper towels, scraps of fast food bags or some other absorbent material in this car??? NO!  Because you can’t eat or drink in the car and he keeps the interior like a damn museum!!

Ok, think!  I KNOW ~ I can use my sweater and mop up the ever-increasing liquid….even though it’s a $200 sweater I got for $20 at a special-once-in-a-lifetime-outlet-sale just 2 months ago (WHO IN THE HELL would pay $200 for a sweater???).  No problem, I’ll just take this off, carefully, while I drive, and mop up the tea.  There….much better.

I drive a little faster because I want to beat the tea to the house ~ it’s rising quickly in that little tiny cup holder on the console (really?  It looks like it’s for Barbie Cups…).

Pulling into the driveway, I slam it into 1st, cut the engine and attempt to ‘hop out’ of the car.  Now THAT’s Funny.  I drag my ass out of the car, run around to the other side, grabbing paper towels on the way and dash to the cup holder, holding the paper towel under the cup so it won’t drip everywhere.

I mop up the cup holder, Armor-all the side of the seat and console where it had dripped and I am in great shape, feeling pretty damn good about the fact that I drove the car without any damage AND I **giggle** had a drink in the cup holder, a leak in the drink and tea all over the console and He’ll NEVER KNOW!!!

And then I saw it……there, just below the passenger seat, embedded in the pale tan carpet…a beautifully formed, perfectly chewed, absolutely brick-like piece of bubble gum.

Now, I’ve been married to Mac for 20 years and never ONCE in those 20 years have I seen him chew bubble gum.  However, there is a certain 6-year-old living with us that has a gallon tub of Double Bubble at her disposal because she is addicted to bubble gum since she learned to blow bubbles.  And now I KNOW ~ they’ve been tooling around in Mac’s car, his baby, his Corvette, together while I am who knows where ~ feeling the wind in their hair, laughing with the loud music on the radio and going too fast for my comfort.

And at some point, Miss Tater took that bubble gum out of her mouth, DID NOT LITTER, and put it very firmly in the carpet, where I found it.

Makes a Sasha proud…..and Mac is SO BUSTED when he gets off that airplane!

Someone (obviously NOT a friend, just someone who wants to laugh at me) asked me to retell this story recently.  I thought ya’ll might like it, too.  Please don’t read any more (or any less) into any part of it.  I am not making fun of anyone, making light of any illness, injury or disability.  (The fact that I feel obligated to put a disclaimer out 1st shouldn’t concern you in the least.)

We were in New Orleans getting ready for a cruise to Mexico.  We had 2 full days to explore New Orleans and took advantage of all that goes with a trip to NOLA.  We were traveling with my sister-in-law and her husband and their grown daughter and her husband.

Well, my niece wants to go to Carnival World. Whatever.  There’s a ferry that takes you across THE river, drops you at the dock and a van-bus will pick you up and drop you at the door of whatever the hell Carnival World is.  But it was a little over an hour before the ferry departed and my niece and  her husband weren’t there yet.

As luck would have it, we found this nice little open-air, beach side bar and decided to wait there in the comfort, cool and alcohol-filled atmosphere instead.  As Mac picked up the menu, I caught site of the ‘daily specials’.  Cajun Monsters were on the list …so naturally we ordered a pitcher.

Now, I don’t know EXACTLY what is in a Cajun Monster, but lemme tell ya…it tastes like liquid gold and honey mixed in with some nectar of the Gods.  And it went down quick and easy.  So quick and easy, it’s possible I was slightly tipsy (OK, already, I was DRUNK) when the ferry came to fetch us…

Luckily, I could rest on the ferry and the mini bus.  When we got to the damn Carnival Land place, my super special, loving, caring, compassionate family all got off the van bus and left my ass there.

BUT not to worry, I got up, straightened up and headed off the bus ALL BY MYSELF.  I made it down the steps (even the damn driver got off the bus!), and stood by the door of the van-bus, looking for my loving husband.

Now, at this point, it’s possible I was slightly weaving, but there is no proof of that, so I’ll just go with ‘waving in the sunshine’ and let it go.

Here’s the part that makes the entire story:  There, just a few feet away, was the kindest, gentlest, sweetest, most precious thing I had ever seen ~ it was a 110 year old, wrinkled up black man with a wheel chair and  he said words I will never forget:

“Ma’am, would you be needing a wheelchair?”

“Why, yes…yes I would. Thank you SOOO much.”

I sat my happy ass down in that wheelchair, grabbed the wheels and took off.  Some sweet soul opened the door to the ticket place (you have to PAY to go to Carnival World??? WTH???) and I saw Mac….standing there buying tickets (CRAZY!) for us.  He looked down at me, with that slightly puzzled-WHATAREYOUDOING look he has so often when we’re together and didn’t bat an eyelash.  I continued navigating the wheelchair thru the aisle of postcards (FOR REAL?), trinkets and souvenirs the ticket-selling-place had on display, feeling like I was getting the hang of this thing.

So, off we go touring Carnival World, I was zipping thru there like a bat outta hell on wheels.  AND THEN, we got to try on costumes….well, I didn’t really want our tour mates to KNOW I was in the wheelchair because I was DRUNK, so I had to don the costume (that hundreds, maybe THOUSANDS of people, I don’t even know have put on before me…OMG!  How can I get out of this!!) while I was IN the wheelchair.  No problem, just drape that puppy right over me and we’ll be set.

And they did…..

Facial add-ons are for the protection of the innocent. Although we aren’t that innocent…

Tater loves to look at our photo albums and, of course, I put THIS picture in there for the cruise.  She always wants me to tell her the story of “Why are you a wheelchair in this picture, Sasha?”…and I start just like I do every time…

“Well, baby…you see it’s like this…Sasha tripped over a turtle on the beach one day…..”

There’s a beer festival in a nearby town today.  Mac LOVES beer, but I don’t.  (Helllllooo?? Tequila, Rum, Whiskey….)  So we have been to this festival in years past….you pay $35, drink as much as you want from the craft beer vendors, get pretty drunk and watch the drunker people stumble around and do stupid things.  For me, as the DD, it is freakin’ hilarious.  Luckily, it is outside on a beautiful grassy area downtown with live music.  I take my chair, 2 liter of diet Pepsi, a few snacks and set up camp for the day.  Mac stops by after every 5th beer to rest and eat Cheetos.  It’s a perfect set up.

Unless it rains.

Two years ago, it rained, the wind was howling and the tents were sideways.  We said, “Screw this! We’ll go to our bar and sit there in the dry, cool, comfortable seats and drink $35 worth of whatever we want (Hell YEAH!  I’ll have a Margarita please!).

So this year?  We’re just gonna skip the festival, camp out at our favorite bar AND have a server bring us whatever we want, including menu items like FOOD (Festival has pretzels for food…they are confused!).

Here’s to Beer Festivals everywhere ~ may they have a bar close by so I can wait there for now on!  Cheers!!

Ours isn’t the “Biggest Beer Fest Ever” but I liked this picture.

It’s officially Spring now….the calendar has been saying it’s Spring for almost a month, but Mother Nature had other ideas and we froze our ass off for a few weeks, but in the good ol’ South, Spring really has Sprung.

Which means I have to shave my legs and dig out my summer dresses, skirts and pretty, shiny sandals.  It also means I have to buy a new Spanx, cause I reign holy terror on a Spanx for a season and they just aren’t the same after all that wear and tear.  (And some of mine have a little more wear than others.)  And lemme tell ya ~ I LOVE my Spanx.  It has nothing to do with how I think others see me, wanting to look the way society says I should or trying to be a certain size.  But it does has everything to do with my legs not catching on fire when I walk.

So I buy my new Spanx, bring it home, pick out my skirt du jour and prepare to walk barelegged (and fire free) for the rest of the summer.

Have you ever put on a new Spanx, right out of the package?  After wiggling all over the bedroom (at one point I wasn’t sure if I was dancing, creating a new defensive move or sweatin’ to the oldies…or all 3 simultaneously), I finally decided putting on this new Spanx had to be just like a newborn baby tunneling thru the ol’ birth canal on its way to the grand entrance known as life …

“oohhh, so close now, just let me push a little bit more…

Oh oh oh, I just got a leg out, now lets work on the hip….

wiggle, wiggle, wiggle and wiggle once more and YES, another leg through!

PULLLLLLL, argh, PULLLLL once more.  Phew, that sorta hurt.

Maybe if I twist a little to the left, I can get my butt covered!

Ahhh, finally!  Success ~ I am READY!”

How long til it’s cold again????

Today is the day after the Boston Terrorist attack and I will struggle like all Americans (and people around the world) to understand the reasons why this happened.  We will never truly know what was in the mind of the person(s) that planted the bombs, with the intent of hurting so many people.  We may discover who is responsible and they will tell us what they want us to hear, but we’ll never know the reasons locked away in a twisted and sick brain.

I stand in support of Boston and America today, as always.  I offer prayers and love to the injured, the witnesses and the survivors.  There are continuous news reports of the attack, and photos I will never forget posted all over my computer.  There are TV stations that are covering every angle and making sure we know exactly what is happening.  There are news conferences to share the courageous, unselfish acts by so many, and let us know the plan of action.   But on my Facebook page, I will continue to post things that make you smile, laugh out loud and think, “Hey, that’s just like me”.

I am choosing to do that because I refuse to let the bastard terrorists rule my life.  They want us to stop living our lives, to be afraid to venture out into this land that is America, and to be constantly afraid of the very things that make living so fantastic.  And I’m just not gonna do it.

So, terrorists that choose to continue bombing us, invading us and creating havoc with your crazy, shit-storm lives, know this:  I am not afraid.  I am cautious and I will look for you everywhere I go.  But GO I will, because you cannot stop me and you cannot stop the American People.  Bastards.

Tater and I were headed out the door, to wherever we HAD to go.  She cocked  her head and wrinkled up her cute, little nose and leaned in closer…I was sure she wanted one last kiss before we got in the car.

No, that wasn’t exactly what she wanted.  She said, “Sasha, you don’t smell so good”.

WHAT!  I even bathed, brushed my teeth AND fixed my hair and makeup for this adventure…and I don’t SMELL SO GOOD?

Hmmm, I thought about it, smelled myself and DID detect a slight…..unpleasant smell.  So I go back and spritz on some more Bath & Body Works Cool Rain so I’ll smell less unpleasant.  (Ok, so it was actually a $5.99 CVS knockoff, but whatever…it smelled good to me.)

Of course, by then, all I could think about was stinking in public.  And I really, really, really didn’t want to stink in public.  (In Private is a whole ‘nuther thing.)  I recalled those stinky people I’d been beside in the store and recoiled from, distancing myself by however many steps I could step back and not lose my place in line.  Or those people who haven’t bathed in…oh, I don’t know…weeks, that are in the same aisle as you and want the SAME item you have your eye on and you’re trying to decide if you should just forget about it or hold your nose and bravely go where no woman has gone before, snatching the pop tart as quickly as possible, hoping you got the frosted one and not those dry-as-dirt unfrosted ones.  And Strawberry.  Please God, let my hand land on Strawberry as I turn my head to avoid the smell.

Yeah, I DID NOT want to be that person.

So my senses were on high alert for a whiff of stank on my body.  Dammit, I did not have time to go back home, shower and do the whole thing over.  I’d just have to roll down the windows and hope for the best.  Of course, that would mess up my hair, so THAT wasn’t happening.  Maybe the sunroof.

As I thought back over what on earth the smell could be, I thought of all the pleasant smells that I encountered while getting ready ~

I had Dove Go FRESH! bath soap, along with Endless Kiss body scrub and Just Plain Clean Shampoo and Conditioner….then I put on Powder Fresh Deodorant, followed by Warm Vanilla Sugar lotion.  I brush my teeth with cinnamon-flavored toothpaste and use spearmint mouthwash.I put on clothes washed in Mountain Fields Detergent and dried with “Original Scent” dryer sheets. Of course, I followed that with the aforementioned Cool Rain Body Spray ~ ah, I was all smelled up and ready to go.

Immediately, I had one thought: What the HELL did an Endless Kiss smell like?

But that still didn’t answer my stinking question…..the one about WHY I was stinky? And I came to only one conclusion:

All those smells had collided on my body chemicals and created a toxic odor, where they fought for the right to be the Dominant smell.  I had created a monster and now it was riding herd over me like the Frankenstein of perfumes.

Great ~ I couldn’t create some fabulous new smell that would be the next JLo or Brittany Spears – designed (do I REALLy think they design those fragrances?  PULEASE!) designer perfume that sells for $80 an ounce.  No, I had to create some stinky smell that will have people wrinkling their nose when they walk close by.  And if I see ONE PERSON turn their head and close their eyes while they reach for the Pop Tarts, I’ll be forced to say…

It’s the Endless Kiss, Dammit!

It was a busy morning at the Sasha house ~ I had a 8:30 meeting so I was rushing around (BTW ~ I really don’t know HOW ya’ll do that every stinkin’ day and I have absolutely NO memory of doing the very same thing 30 years ago the 1st time around-damn!).  I dropped Tater off at school, then rushed through the drive-thru, grabbing my large iced tea and biscuit.  I ate on the way to my appointment, finishing just before I got there.  I checked my teeth, replied lipstick, wiped my hands with a baby wipe and hopped out of the car, file folder in hand.

My meeting was with 2 people, a man and a woman.  All went well ~ I was prepared, wow’d their socks off and felt REALLY good about the possibility of a new client.  I DID notice the man staring at my chest a few times, but hey ~ the girls are big and I had on a v-neck (not a really low-cut v-neck but when the girls are big, ANY v-neck shows a little cleavage).

We stood, shook hands and I asked if I could use the restroom (it was in a business, I would never ask someone in their home ~ just FYI for all ya’ll going “oooohh, someone you don’t know using your bathroom????”).  When you are using your car as an office, you never pass a bathroom without checking it out ~ hell, at almost 50, I LOOK for bathrooms to use….just something all you youngin’s have to look forward to.

Anywho, I use the bathroom, wash my hands, check my hair and happen to glance at my FULL self in the mirror ~ where I notice a very nice size piece of biscuit firmly lodged in my cleavage.

Now, instead of feeling slightly flattered that the man MIGHT have been checking me out, I think he was just hungry….for a biscuit.  Dammit.

Breakfast for 2…