Mild Mannered

Chunk informed us at the dinner table tonight:  "I have etiquette out the a$$!" 

Show Nuff

QueenB was lamenting that Pepita's LittleOne had decided to show a pig at the livestock show this year, and that the pig was extremely uncooperative.  She further stated that cows, goats, and sheep were all easier to load, unload, and show in the arena and that next year the LittleOne would need to make a better decision about what animal she chose.  

I call Bullshi+.  And not just because it comes from cattle.  Not one of these ideas is acceptable.  I feel it is my duty as the LittleOne's aunt (because Tia is the first part of tiara), to step in and put a stop to this foolishness before they mess things up nine ways to Sunday for this poor kid.  

You would think that with the fact that QueenB has more years experience at this than I do, she would have learned all the tips and tricks and nuances of showing animals at a stock show. 

I helped a friend at a stock show ONE YEAR and with that limited experience, I figured out the most important reason why girls are in 4-H and FFA to begin with -- and that is to pick up cute boys.  

So.  The bottom line is this:  CHICKENS.  

C) "CHEEPER" to feed.  That leaves you with the problem of having too much money left over at Tractor Supply and enables you to buy fancy boots and new jeans for when you are picking up cute boys.  

H) HANDLING them is way easier.  Chickens will not put up much of a fight when they are being put into their cages for the ensuing road trip.  Your hair won't get messed up, unlike the stupid girls whose mothers and grandmothers talked them to showing pigs/cows/goats/sheep. You will look much better than them when you are picking up cute boys.  

I)  IF they don't sell, chickens are easily dealt with later.  Either let them roost and lay eggs for you, fire up the Fry Daddy, or practice voodoo.  If worse comes to worst, turn them loose in the yard and let a distracted motorist on his cell phone put a definitive end to the "Why did the chicken cross the road" debate once and for all.  No pesky mascara runs from tears because you will miss your animal or if it doesn't sell for as much as you hoped.  (Who cares?  It's a chicken.)  Your makeup will be intact for the rest of the show and you will be fresh and pretty so that you can  pick up cute boys.  

C)  CAGES for chickens are small and can be placed easily in the bed of a truck, thus eliminating the need for a trailer altogether. You will be able to park closer and get inside sooner to pick up cute boys.  

K) KFC.  Do you know of anything else pertaining to chickens that starts with K?  This is what you name your chicken.  Cute boys think naming your chicken KFC is funny. 

E) EASY to show. Showing chickens is actually a misnomer.  Chickens show themselves.  Chickens can be dropped off at the show barn, cage card and cage latch double-checked, and then you are free to roam the rest of the barns looking for cute guys.

N) NO need to enter the arena at all.  This ensures that you will not smell like livestock snot, urine, or feces.  It also protects your new boots and jeans from getting livestock snot, urine, or feces on them.  The stupid pig/cow/goat/sheep girls will be smelly and none of the cute boys will want to talk to them.  

S)  SIMPLE to bathe and get ready to show.  Bathing a chicken is less time consuming than bathing larger animals.  Some chickens actually don't mind.  Be careful not to have the water too hot.  If your chicken appears to be losing consciousness and the water smells like Campbell's soup, you should remove your chicken immediately or add noodles.  Either way, you won't be all tired out from the ordeal, and you will still have plenty of energy to pick up cute boys.  

CAR-ma

I was unable to fulfill my regular football game parking lot duties tonight because it was just too crazy and they needed us to "spread out."  Being unable to fulfill your regular duties means that the first-runner up receives the crown.  Which means that I have "my people" in the Reserved Parking Area so well-trained that a man could handle it and so my parking lot duties fell to MyPoolBoy this evening and I had to go take over directing traffic on a corner.  Not that I am not fully comfortable working a corner, it just a deviation from the norm that was somewhat noteworthy to me.

I was fully prepared for the task, wearing my specially-designed parking lot duty shirt that has the word PARKING emblazoned across the chest with sparkly silver letters and a rhinestone tiara ironed on underneath.  This attire is not only pretty, but also functional, so that people will realize that I am, in fact, sober and SUPPOSED to be out there and not just on a Friday night bender with a sudden reckless whim to stand in a high school parking lot and direct traffic at the football game.  

I was waving and smiling and helping people avoid the moral depravity of parking in handicapped spaces when this woman pulled her car up to my post and wanted to drop her daughter off right there in the middle of the flow of traffic and turn around in the middle of the flow of traffic so that she could go back out the way she came and avoid going on a rocky bumpy dirt road.  I asked nicely - politely - professionally for her to please pull into the parking lot by the band hall and let the ladies in that parking lot help her turn around.  She didn't like that answer either.  She started yelling at me that she didn't want to tear up her car on the rocky bumpy dirt road.  I tried to explain to her that if she would follow the flow of traffic, she could turn around before the road and not block traffic.  Then her kid just says "just let me out here, Mom" and bangs me in the leg with her door as she jumped out of the car.  The mom took off, brushing the back flank of her vehicle against the very same leg her kid had just tried to maim, and pulled into the-very-same-parking-lot-I-had-just-asked-her-to-go-to-only-moments-prior. So I guess basically I was hit (albeit lightly) by a car tonight.  Once she was able to turn back around against the flow of traffic she gassed it back past me so that I would get the message that she was pi$$ed off at me for trying to make her drive her precious car down that rocky bumpy dirt road.  

Approximately 40 yards later, I heard the lilting sounds of metal scraping asphalt as she bottomed out while going too fast over a speed bump.  

Dear Karma, 

Thank you for being a bigger bi+ch than me tonight and allowing me be there to witness it.
Sincerely,
WTP  

There She Is

So.  This morning I informed TheLongestOneNightStandEver that I had the horrific thought run through my mind that as of this past Sunday, she is no longer eligible for MISS America due to her so-newly-acquired-marital-status-that-she-hasn't-updated-her-Facebook-profile.  Then I got depressed.  Because then it dawned on me that I can't be Miss America, either.  It's not just marital status, but also age.

But then I cheered up again.  Because that probably wouldn't be the grounds for disqualification in my case anyway.

I'm pretty sure I've broken most of the pageant's morals clauses.

An Open Letter of Pre-Apology

So. Thunderduck springs on us last night that he and TheLongestOneNightStandEver are getting married. 

In less than 24 hours. 

And they don't even have to. 

Imagine my surprise and heartfelt disappointment that there was no time to plan a decent bachelorette party.  I am taking this opportunity to publicly apologize to the Lucilles who have been cheated out of an excuse to raise h3ll. AND I can't even go shopping for a new dress or anything because all the good thrift stores don't open until later on Sunday.  Did they think of that?   No.  They are "in love" and are all happy and crap and are under the starstruck misguided effing impression that this is about THEM. 

Also.  Not sure how I am feeling about letting an AGGIE into the family since we are still adjusting to the fact that BrideOfTrainwreck is a Yankee.  But there is some consolation in the fact that she is cute enough to potentially produce acceptable-looking offspring for my wallet.  Because if Trainwreck's baby had been ugly I was just gonna keep the picture off of a jar of Gerber baby food and tell everyone it was just an amazing coincidence that he looked like that.  

Also to her credit was her remarkable ability to almost keep up with me last night after 3 bottles of wine.  Our evening almost ended prematurely when Thunderduck mistakenly thought she had fallen asleep in the truck on the way back to our house.  I made sure that THAT was not the case by hauling her out of the truck and into the house where we commenced to trying on our dresses and tiaras and made the menfolk build us a fire so we could finish off a box of wine and play Bride while they looked on helplessly just praying that they wouldn't have to call the fire department with us sprawled out in lawn chairs looking all wedding-ish and sh1t.

So there. She can't back out now because I have already blogged about her.