Running on Empty

Well  APPARENTLY the gas tank on Lucille is off by a quarter of a tank.

Because that's when it chugs and sputters to a complete halt. 

Also, I am metaphorically "out of gas" because it was a crazy day trying to see Thunderduck for a little bit for his birthday, rushing out to pick up Chunk from football (which is when I ran out of gas), then drove him back out to the stadium since MyPoolBoy had a class tonight. 
Creative Writing.   
He wrote some haiku. 

I am happily surprised to report that none of them have to do with fartlighting or power tools. 

Sing a-Wrong

On Karaoke night of our Lucille trip to the coast, the KJ (DJ for karaoke, duh), would selfishly sing his very ownself in between all of the patrons' (our) requests.  It was ok until he made a stupid, fatal mistake.  Fatal as in - he killed the party mood.  Pretty sure that KJ was a local and just didn't get it.  The coastal wildlife bears a bit of explanation to fully understand the caliber of citizens that we encounter when we're down there.  In defense, it is entirely possible that there are other islanders who are NOT like this - but the establishments we tend to frequent and the sheer eccentricity of our collective personalities seems to draw an off-brand of human contact. 

The Lucilles had sung some of our usual fare to entertain the meager crowd, which consisted mostly of us and a few weird old dudes who had followed us from the two previous bars that we had visited.

These gentlemen did not include Santa Claus, who used some BS about hamburger helper as his attempted pick-up line.  A first for me.  Lucky for him/unluckily for me, I was drunk enough to actually engage in a conversation with him about hamburger helper and all its virtues, and coming from my white trash background, I had quite an extensive amount of knowledge on the subject that resulted in the conversation lasting for a rather lengthy time that implied interest.  Gawd help me.  

However, who DID show up was the waiter that Felix had made an impression on at the restaurant where we ate the previous evening (how? I don't know cuz she was bi+chy and rude as h3ll to him over the availability of a particular brand of beer, but she smiled cattily the whole time, so I am pretty sure that he mistook the smiling for attraction.)  He obviously had accrued too many dui's and/or didn't have a vehicle that ran and had followed us ON FOOT from bar to bar (he kept showing up much later than the other guys and by the time we got to karaoke we saw him and figured it out).   MyPoolBoy came down for the weekend and we stayed an extra couple of days and we actually saw him with a WOMAN walking across the street from our hotel.  Said woman had no teeth - not just bad dental hygiene habits with resulting gaps - NO TEETH as in, she must've left her dentures on the nightstand that morning - she was wearing no shoes - and she had her cut-off jeans unbuttoned AND unzipped.  Hand to GAWD.

Also present and accounted for was Phil.  Phil was there to sing, by golly.  And meet women, if the opportunity presented itself.  And he hadn't had enough to drink yet to steady his DT's, but that didn't keep him from erroneously thinking that our laughter was a sign of interest rather than the horribly inhumane, insensitive ridicule that it actually was.  Phil used the karaoke arena as his personal concert venue and moved about the bar like he was Tom Jones at the Vegas MGM Grand.  He walked up to Larva and put his hand on her shoulder as he sang to her.  Larva had made the mistake of looking especially cute that night in a little strapless dress which meant Phil's hand was on her BARE shoulder.  As soon as he walked away, she began screaming for someone to disinfect her.  Which we did.  Because for the first time in my life, I was in an establishment that had a huge pump dispenser of hand sanitizer right there on the bar. 

Can. Not. Lie. About. Shi+. Like. That.

So.  Karaoke evening had gone a little mild for my liking, and I elected to put in some songs in that would liven things up.  Larva got up and sang "Because I Got High" with me, and then I got a couple of girls to do "Hit Me With Your Best Shot."  This was followed by "PMS Blues."  We had a theme of girl-power going.  And that - THAT - is when the KJ made his fatal error.
He sang "Only Women Bleed" by Alice Cooper.  All of you under-40 somethings need to heed the following lesson in pop culture:  Alice Cooper is NOT a woman.  It was a guy and his band from the 70s who did some really good songs like "School's Out" which is a timeless classic, but also did some freaky shi+ like "Only Women Bleed."  Of course, it has to have been written and sung by a man because it stretches a testosterone-laden mind to have to get a meaningful or deep lyric into a song.  Basically, it goes
like this:
blah blah blah blah blah blah blah but only women bleed
only women bleed
only women bleed
only women bleed
only women bleed
only women bleed
blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
only women bleed
only women bleed
only women bleed
only women bleed
only women bleed

Sure.  Let's sing this to a crowd of crowd of women who outnumber all the men in the bar and who have just been selecting such numbers as "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" and "PMS Blues." Clearly he was missing the point.  We are not the type of girls that are beneath using the men's room and leaving the seat down. Or putting a pantyliner in your tip jar. (Way to go newbieLucille - "Tipper" is your official blog name now!) 

Here's a clue, buddy --

Ask John Wayne Bobbitt if only women bleed.

The Absolutely and Quite Possibly Completely Incoherent Ramblings of the White Trash Princess on a Random Wednesday Evening

Admonition, my pretties: There is no structure, reason, nor sequence to any of the following.  It is extremely probable that there will be multiple typos, misspellings, and grammatical errors, but Deep Eddy is my friend this evening, and so I'm in eff-it mode.

Just so you know.

Ok.  Now - Some news.  My Beemer sticky things came in today!  Basically these are pieces of vinyl pinstriping that aren't stripes, but triangular wedge-shaped (quarter circles) that go over the blue parts of the BMW logo and make it a different color.  And that color would be ...... PINK!!!!!!

Cute right?????

It's not the sparkly crystal ones, but it will do for now.  I got a set that covers the front emblem, the trunk emblem, and all four wheels.  It is adorable!!!!!!!!!!

I am well on my way to having this car be completely undrive-able by MyPoolBoy.  He can hide the pink trim on the black seat covers by sitting just right.  The pink sparkly "Princess" sticker on the front windshield isn't too obvious.  And I think he almost tolerates the Yield To The Princess bumper sticker that Striptease gave me.  Which incidentally is not only ON the bumper now, but is holding a crack on the bumper together, so it is off-center on the bumper but is for purely functional reasons. 

AND I got this precious little photo clutch that is black and white toile with a pink monogrammed initial on it to store my insurance and the extra vinyl wedges in -  THEN I got (at the liquor store - and you KNOW I cannot make that shi+ up....) a MATCHING black and white toile train case to keep in the trunk of the Beemer to store stuff like brake fluid, quarts of oil, leopard print duct tape, Beemer Glue (5-minute Epoxy from the car parts store that we relabeled as Beemer glue because shi+ keeps falling off and this stuff really holds it together pretty well), and all the parts that I am finding in the ashtrays and in the trunk and under the seat that I haven't yet identified but I strongly suspect will need to be reattached using the Beemer Glue.

And.  Before I forget... QueenB asked me the other day what my Beemer's name was.  I had never thought about it.  And it's one of those obvious things like my tramp stamp tattoo that took me three years to figure out what it should say and when I finally figured it out it was a "duh" moment.  At least this one didn't take that long.  Bi+chslap and I decided that the Beemer should be named - obviously - LUCILLE!!!!!!!!!!! 

In other news.... I am blogging for a friend who owns a home theater company (This is the link here).  It is my first "real" writing job that I am being paid for by any means other than scholarship money.  The beauty of this gig, my first "professional" writing, is that I negotiated to be paid in vodka.  CAN. NOT. MAKE. THIS. SHI+. UP.

 Also.  Went to lunch today with MyPoolBoy and Felix and Hyphen.  Went to the restroom and when I got out, I went to wash my hands and out of the other stall came a restaurant employee.  And SHE WALKED THE F&(K out of the stall after me and LEFT THE RESTROOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Did not wash her hands.  Well.  I bi+ched loudly and sat back down to finish my soda (I wasn't gonna EAT anything else!) and she must have had an Ex-Lax Blizzard from the Dairy Queen next door because she had to go to the restroom again before we left.  So I followed her.  I'm all stalkerish and shi+.  She must have known what I was doing because I didn't pee or anything and I sort of stood outside the door like some kind of creepy ax-murderess and waited for the water faucet to be turned on.  Which she DID this time because of my creepy ax-murderess stalker behavior.  Except there was no soap.  And I KNEW that because I had washed my hands in there before.  And she DIDN'T know that because she DIDN'T wash her hands in there before. 

Dear Blessed Mother of Sweet Fancy Moses.  I had all kinds of heart palpitations and pseudo-asthmatic near-panic attacks.  Almost choked on my Dr. Pepper.

So.  Tonight.  I spilled about a half a glass of tea on my lap.  I was wearing my ugly pants (they're actually cute turquoise and white and orange and green paisley pants, but because they have more than 2 colors on them, MyPoolBoy has deemed them as ugly) so the spill didn't really show.

At this point I decided I need to pee, also.  I commented out loud that I could just pee in the chair and no one would know because my pants and the chair were already wet from the tea.

Not a comment that was well-received by the other establishment patrons.

GAWD.  People are so SERIOUS. 

I also sat in an inservice today where the presenter was using Johnny Depp as an example of an actor that kids would identify with and since they had seen Pirates of the Caribbean, they would want to go see Alice in Wonderland, etc., etc.

no. shi+.

Look, people.  Pretty much if Johnny Depp was in the Bloodborne Pathogens training video we have to watch at the beginning of every year, I'd watch it (for a change).

Stuck On You

Striptease left this fabulous bumper sticker for the convertible POS Princess Mobile in my box at school

Because there was not enough room to write "Back off, seriously dude, because the blonde behind the wheel is learning to shift a 5-speed and might roll backwards and kill you dead as she is driving while peroxidated."

Appiness

MyPoolBoy found an app for his phone that basically turns his phone screen into a karaoke screen.  I mean, plays the music, has the words color-coded, tells you when there is a musical break -- the whole thing. 

Then he starts griping cuz some of the songs aren't working. 

Glass half-empty. 

I told him it doesn't matter - it is KARAOKE ON HIS FRIGGIN' PHONE.  Does he not realize how much fun that would be at a faculty meeting???? 

Glass half-full.  

BFGC

Due to her predisposition to run and cower on the bed and shake whenever someone new enters the house, Thunderduck's pet bull has earned a new nickname: BFGC (Big F~%*ing Giant Chihuahua). 

Now for some bad news:  the BFGC just ate the heel off of one of my Frederick's of Hollywood Beer Pong stilettos. 

I'm a Trophy Wife

I told MyPoolBoy this morning that he was my favorite person and that I loved him.  He just sort of grunted.  So I asked him if I was on his nerves and he said "not yet" - in other words, he had the full expectation that I was eventually going to be on his nerves so he was just answering as truthfully as he could at that particular moment in time.

I tried to continue the conversation by telling him that I tried really hard to fix myself up and look pretty for him like a trophy wife, and he actually agreed! 

Then he said that he would gladly taxidermy and mount my head and hang it on the wall next to whatever other big game trophies he could acquire through future deer hunts or safaris.

Look Out!

BannedCamp has provided a good round of screeching laughter for me once again.

Just watch the video.  I posted this on QueenB's facebook so some of you are gonna get double-dipped, but y'all - "Hide yo kids, hide yo wife, hide yo husbands, cuz they raping everybody out here"