Cars Part Duo

Well, combined, Kacy and I have gotten so many e-mails and text messages with pictures of cars that we already have enough material for Car Blog II.

Now, we didn't realize we would be getting so many pictures, so we didn't keep track of who sent what. I'm sorry that proper credit cannot be given for each of these but, a general 'thank you' Kacy for compiling this amazing collection from myself, Melissa, Heather, Robyn/Trey, Amanda and Jessie.

Here we go ... Let's start with amazing license plates.

I'm not sure this person gave enough thought to putting MOO BAA on their license plate. What does that even mean?!?

This one on the other hand, says it all:

Another very creative license plate.

Amen! Hallelujah! Praise the lord! Yes, you really are looking at an '85 Supra with a "Got You" license plate. Could the plates be worth more than the car? It's anyone's guess.

Now a section dedicated to showing your your personality, what you believe in, your hobbies your true colors! Let's just call this car bling.

This guy might have gone over board, just a bit:

This bumper sticker really cracks us up!
So glad this guy could really let himself off the leash!
I think we should all put our race and gender on the back of our cars.
And our names inside of a Harley logo!
Oh! Oh! We should also put a sticker of everything we like to kill on our back windshield. I am ashamed to say this this person is a fellow lover of dem Tigas!
Kacy also enjoyed seeing this ice cream truck broken down with its lights flashing.
I REALLY like how this guy spray painted racing stripes on his older-than-dirt car. I think the strips were really the final touch that it needed.
Much like Kacy's 'arcade in a truckbed' picture from the first car post, I also found one...only mine is bigger!
Now if this isn't an awesome slogan for a garage repair company, I don't know what is...
Don't know what this means, but it's definitely worth a giggle!
A repeat from last blog, but I found this dude AGAIN! Only this time, he had added a baby swing bolted to the bed of the truck!

I take back the term for the previous section, because that has now been changed to car flare...THIS is car bling! Trey took this on his cell phone after he literally saw the wheels break off the axel because they were too big!!! Trey said the drivers were pretty upset!

And finally, the grand prize winner of this edition of Ode to Cars goes to Melissa for seeing this fine piece of machinery on the roads.

Bitter Sweet

All I can think of is James Blunt's lyrics, Goodbye my lover, goodbye my friend...

It has been a great four years with you Bev. So many memories and you've always been there for me. Thanks for loving me, I'll miss you!!



Now that Bev is out of my life, I'll need to find a name for my new life mate. Um, well the only thing I've come up with is an arrangement of the letters that name the car, C, R and V into The Cervix. While I think it'd be funny to say I'm constantly riding around in the cervix, I'm open to new suggestions. Feel free to throw me a bone. Although it's a big change, I love my new car!!!

Employee of the Month

I was pretty productive today! Accomplished something huge! Sometimes you just have a stray eyebrow that drives you nuts!

Pseudo Coonass

After my disgruntled post earlier about how much I dislike Louis' jazz via alarm clock at 7am, I then thought of a few things that reiterated my passion for the city of New Orleans. I had to pick the few that I could easily identify with, nod my head and giggle. I think I know a lot of the inside secrets of the Crescent City for not actually being a resident myself. These are the reasons why I love that great city!

Residents have flood insurance.

Someone asks for an address by compass directions and responses are it's Uptown, downtown, backatown, riverside or lakeside.

Burial plots are six feet over rather than six feet under.

Few people can pronounce AND spell Tchoupitoulas.

People don't worry when they see ships riding higher in the river than their houses.

If someone says "Magazine," natives think street instead of periodical.

Natives get on a bus marked "cemeteries" without a second thought.

The major topics of conversation when they go out to eat are restaurant meals that they have had in the past and restaurant meals that they plan to have in the future.

They judge a restaurant by its bread.

I not only think the colors purple, green and gold look good together, but I would also consider eating something that was those colors.

I know the definition of "dressed."

I know better than to drink hurricanes or eat Lucky Dogs.

I know that a po-boy is not a guy who has no money, but a great-tasting French bread sandwich.

I definitely judge a po-boy by the number of napkins used.

Someone at a crawfish boil says, "Don't eat the dead ones," and I know what they mean.

The smell of a crawfish boil turns me on more than Chanel No. 5.

Some enjoy sucking heads more than sucking face.

I eat the poo veins.

Ya making groceries at Schwegmann's with ya mama to buy Dixie beer and crawfish so you can eat and suck heads in the French Quarter before a Mardi Gras parade.

I know my homonyms, synonyms and your "mom-n-ems."

I'm not afraid when someone wants to "ax" me.

I push little old ladies out of the way to catch Mardi Gras throws.

Little old ladies push me out of the way to catch Mardi Gras throws.

I know where you got your shoes.

I know the color purple is a drugstore and not a movie.

I have a special set of well-broken-in shoes I refer to as my "French Quarter" shoes.

Every so often, residents have waterfront property.

I know what a nutria is but I still like the baseball team.

I know that "Tipitina" is not a gratuity for a waitress named Tina.

I like my rice and politics dirty.

Natives worry about deceased family members returning in spring floods.

I can ask for lagniappe and not feel guilty.

I know what the hell langiappe means.

I reply to anything and everything about life there with, "Only in New Orleans."

I consider a VooDoo Bloody Mary a suitable breakfast.

I like my crawfish so hot, I can't distinguish between sweat, snot and crawfish juice.

Look! QUICK!

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, the real Princess Fiona met her Prince Not-So-Charming and they thought they would live their lives together happily ever after.

'Happily ever after' only lasted four and a half years until royal couple was headed for destruction. They spent months and months, years and years hating each other and avoiding any common grounds. It was ugly when they were forced to be in the same room with one another.

As time passed, they were able to set aside their differences and become really good pals, helping each other out with favors as needed. Don't get me wrong, Princess Fiona still gives Prince Not-so-Charming hell for being the slapass that he is, and the Prince thinks she is a wackjob nonetheless. At least they can be mean to one another all in good fun, but can also vent to each other and get each other's opinions. It is no shock to either royal family that the Prince and Princess make better buddies than signficant others.

There is one favor though, that the Princess never saw coming until she received a call at her office royal kingdom. This may be the final breaking straw between the real Princess Fiona and Her Ex-Prince Not-So-Charming, because she has now been summoned to be interviewed by a local newspaper for Prince Not-So-Charming's business. Out of the blue, the Princess was questioned about a greener way of living and why she wants to purchase a new 'green' castle. Would she be interested in moving to a new village where the commute was by horseback, rather than carriage in order to save energy. Princess Fiona knew little about this greener way of life and sounded like a complete idiot trying to answer questions. She can't wait to read the article. But the kicker is, her photo with Prince Not-So-Charming will also be published in the newspaper.

***Thanks James for allowing me to make an ass out of myself. You owe me big time for doing this crap for you. I'm not even looking for a new home! I told the reporter that my name was Elizabeth Lane, because there is no way in hell I can be publicly associated with that douchebag. You can find us and Archwood Properties in the Quick Edition of the Dallas Morning News. My photoshoot session is on Monday.

Decisions

This morning, I firmly decided on a few things that I officially hate.

1. I HATE When The Saints Go Marching In! Confusing I know, because I am a lover of all things NOLA, Cajun and LSU, but tis true - I HATE the marching Saints. It used to be that when I heard that spectacular tune, I was ready to jump up, grab a Voodoo Mary and pass a good time as I paraded through the 'Quarta.' However, now when I hear those high-pitched notes in the morning as my alarm is going off, I am cursing the existence of the fabulous Louis Armstrong. I don't know that I will ever have the same appreciation for a Satchmo Festival again, due to the daily torments from a once-beloved song. Tragic!

2. I HATE those special items you can by at any home store to make your bed more comfortable. Down pillows, down duvets, down mattress toppers, body billows, knee-knocking pillows and all of the like. Again, this may come as a surprise since I love nothing more than to take a 'snap' in a cozy bed such as my own, but the rude awakening from a feather poking through the linens and stabbing me in my eyeball, my ear, my foot or my rear is hardly worth it. I also once enjoyed being completely surrounded by pillows, in order to avoid a feeling of vulnerability, and I still appreciate it at the beginning of a restful slumber, but when those dang things fall off the bed and I wake up because I suddenly feel 'open,' it ruins my peaceful sleep. My bed is too high to just lean over and retrieve my comfies, so I have to literally get out of bed to walk across the room to pick up the pillows I sucker-punched mid-dream, rearrange all my bedding and wiggle my way back into my spot. And guess what, then I'm awake...for a long time.

3. I HATE light-up disco shows. My phone has this special feature of this insanely bright light blinking all colors of the rainbow whenever the phone rings, I get a message or when the alarm is going off. Let me just tell you - this option is for the birds. There is an occasional appreciation of the light show if I'm driving with my music blaring loud enough to block out any ring tones, so at least my attention is directed towards the phone. I mean, how could you miss it? But, I'll have you know, this feature is just down right asinine when your alarm is going off in the morning. I can silence the Saints all I want every 5 minutes, but even silencing the crowd doesn't shut down 'the club scene' reflecting from my phone. Even through my closed eyelids, I can see the light. Is this what death and approaching the pearly gates looks like? I'm going to go ahead and put this out there...the only real upside to this fascinating light show is if I were working the steel. This bad boy could definitely give me some special staging effects as I perform a trick or two on the stripper pole. Other than that, it's worthless to me!

Got My Hurrah Did

So after two months of rockin' a kickass ponytail and headbands, I decided I could no longer handle the 'growing out' process of my weave. Thank you a million times Amy for making a house call to get rid of all this mess.

Hmm, now that my hair is healthier, maybe I can work on having a face that isn't burned crispy and making my eyes not look like I just shot some heroin.


PS - I'm waiting on pictures from Danette to post a new entry: "I'm In Love With A Stripper." I can't wait!

Potent Pickles

Yesterday, for some reason unknown to myself, I agreed to attend the world's hottest baseball game. Yankee R. Sox picked me up and we headed towards The Ballpark to watch the Rangers battle the Sox. Wait, forgive me...I was informed there is only ONE Sox team and that is the Boston Red Sox. So, correction, we watched the Rangers battle out the Chicago White Sox.

The game started in the heart of the afternoon, and while I'm not known for extensive sweat, there was no escaping it yesterday. Liquid beads were rolling down each extremity of my body and my shorts were soaking wet. I WAS HOT! And not the jaw-dropping, head-turning, cat-calling, 'Damn, I want to bang you!' kind of hot, but the sticky-hands, drenched orifices, flushed cheeks, heavy breathing, wet-hair kind of hot. At one point I turned to R.Sox and commented:

"I'm a bit confused about this aroma surrounding me. I can't decide if it's me and last night's alcohol exiting my pores, if it's you and your alcohol from last night exiting your body, if it's everyone else around us, or if I just smell pickles."

We both decided it was probably the best mixture of all 4 options. Mmmmm - I think we have a new Ralph Lauren fragrance in the making. Anyhoo, I'm pretty good about not complaining in uncomfortable situations at sporting events like most girls do, and I was doing my best not to let out any expression of discontent, but with my fair skin and the intense direct sun, there was bound to be some whining. I didn't want to be too much a pain in the ass, so I repositioned myself in the walkway under the shade while R.Sox remained in our seats. Apparently, more people agreed with my choice than his.
You know, sitting in the shade for those last 2 innings really helped me escape a horrific burn. Thank god I'm so smart and put sunscreen on...in the third inning.
Who thinks I'm going to look ridiculously sexy in my cocktail dress at a wedding this upcoming weekend? Nothing says beautiful like some jacked up tan burn lines and peeling skin. Second question: Who thinks I should also sport this hairstyle to that same wedding? I'd be one hot mess, huh? (No pun intended.)

And White Folk

This little gem has always made me laugh. I grew up in the E.P., so this wasn't anything foreign to Williams High School. *Shout out to mi amigas!* However, I was in full belief that my days of witnessing the artistic ink designs of pseudo eyebrows were long gone...until I came to work. Remember, I work in Highland Park - land of the fake. Fake boobs, fake faces, fake teeth, fake tummies, fake noses, fake hair, fake personalities but definitely not fake cars, fake designer names, fake diamonds, fake purses or fake shoes. I was under the impression that fake eyebrows were strictly banned in the area too, but LLegs has brought that fad back into the park. The Highland Park, that is. If you recall, I have written about LLegs before (Why I Dont Belong Here) and her ridiculous attempt at trying to fit in the scene, but everyone calls her bluff. Today, she shows up in her new car, an upgrade from the BMW to a used '05 Mercedes coupe. Don't worry, there was no lag time in switching her LLegs license plate from the old to the new. The new car is sporting that bad boy already! Anyhoo, another addition to her fabulous image is her new tattooed eyebrows. The woman has blonde hair, but she decided to get her eyebrows tattooed black. It looks amazing, as in amazingly horrific. Dammit, why can't I get a picture? I'll work on that because it is out of this world!

G.E.A.R.

It's just a little something most people don't even know about - T.C. will get it though. We've even recruited so many new members to be apart of Team Chelada, and also have our own cheer squad, thanks to Robyn, Casey & Smiddy!

Last night, we had our first reunion run of 2008 to begin preparing for our next half-marathon. It was the original team, minus Chris, but we ran after work at 5:30. It was seriously the hottest I have probably ever been in my entire life, but I'll get used to it. I mean, we have to because we don't really have a choice.

Cheers to sunburns, sweat, fatigue, near-death passing out but also a bigger Cheers to great friends, frivolous laughs and cold beer! (Sorry Tammi.)

I Love Her

I honestly can't even imagine the love I will feel for my own child if this is how much love I feel for my niece. I sat looking at the picture slideshow with a few tears in my eyes. What a beautiful miracle she is. I am so very honored to have these 3 people in my family. I love y'all!

I'm Lame

No, really, I am! For two reasons.

1. I stopped at Einstein's this morning to grab a quick breafkast. It's usually a bi-monthly treat, MAX - but everytime I go in there, they never seem to fail at entertaining me. Today, when they asked for the name on my order, of course I gave them my first name. She repeated it back to me and then spelled it out loud. L-A-M-E. I started laughing but thought it was too good to correct her, so I just said that's right. 3 minutes go by and then for all the public to hear, "LAME, your order is ready, LAME" and I proudly claim my bagel and walk out with a smirk on my face. Did they really think someone named their child Lame?

2. There is no denying that little things excite me, especially even numbers. I will always round out my tips so that the total makes an even withdrawl from my bank account, although I always know I'll never not have spare change in my account. I also had to stop to empty my bank account get gas this morning, and I let the pump run automatically while I sat in my car. I heard it stop when my tank was full, but I have never been more happy to find such a large number on the $/Gallon meter. I didn't even have to stop it on an even whole dollar myself - it was just fate! My car must know about my OCD crazies. And to think I only have 3 more weeks with her. God I'll miss you Bev!!!

Life Needs More 3-Day Weekends

I had a wonderful, low-key break for the 4th. Basically, my holiday involved a lot of loungin' around poolside, beer, food, family and friends. Saw some fireworks, sat in traffic, took some tequila shots. You know - just your average patriotic celebration. There were many highlights to my weekend though, which included Miss Claire, Molly & Boudreaux's visit, a wedding, and a makeshift reception at Love & War. Oh, and don't forget beating Yankee R. Sox at darts again...AND pool...AND washers. But who's counting?

Blog Nazi

Woah, apparently there is new a blog enforcement official on the loose. I must apologize, I wasn't aware of the new strict deadline for posting evidence of how great I truly am...and maybe a little bit of how great I'm truly not, but whatevs! Here Yankee R. Sox - are you happy yet? :)

Please notice the winning "L" column. That would be mine. And PS - am I holding up a vienna sausage? Holy crap, that little short shit of a finger is deformed!


Look, Mr. Jealous is trying to throw a dart at my eyeball just because I won. Or maybe he doesn't know how to stand still for a picture after his big win. Look closely - I lost. Even the most talented people in the world, such as myself, lose a game or two.

This competition isn't over. I'm coming back with some fury.

B.I.B.

Anyone is welcome to join our training group. It's a good time...well, you know, the beer after the running is a good time!

Who's Yo Daddy?

OR

Miss Claire is a month old today and 'Claire-ly' still loves her naps, no matter who it's with. For people that can tell the twins a part, you are not allowed to particpate in this little exercise. For those who are new to this game, does anyone know which one is the daddy and which one is Uncle Scotty?

Add 1 More

dog to the family zoo. Molly just got herself a new bedmate. Meet Boudreaux.

He's already made besties with Margeaux and they can't get enough of each other. The two of them will be traveling home with Molly this weekend for the 4th. Should be a crazy mess!