Fireworks, Smeared Fingernail Polish, Bloody Razors, and Apparently I'm Fat!

So Hairyman and I decided that it was time to get into the ‘FIREWORK’ business.  Our first venture was selling them over the July 4^th holiday this last week………..and you’re thinking, ‘What Fun!’ right?  Fireworks!  Ewwww and Ahhhhh……..Well, let me tell you how much FREAKIN’ fun I had:

1.)    Whenever Hairyman and I decide to embark on a new venture, Hairyman always has these bright ideas to have our parents help us out.  Yeah, cheap help, right?……. but keep in mind that our parents range in ages from 65 to 79 years old (……with too many ALPHA personalities in the bunch….)  …. It’s a FREAKIN’ miracle I made it through the week without sticking a sparkler in one of their necks  …….I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I picked up a cherry bomb and aimed at one of our parents and Hairyman had to restrain me (….in fact, by the end of the week, Hairyman was afraid to leave me under the tent alone with our parents for fear of me setting them on fire – ON PURPOSE…. since I had all of these explosives around me…)……………….Oh, how much fun was to be had with Hairyman and I spending an entire week with all four of our parents under our little canvas tent …..

2.)    So one day (…..at band camp…..) …………………(……whoops – wrong story)…..So one day ……..when we weren’t too busy under the firework tent I decided it was a good time to paint my fingernails (…what the hell was I thinking, right?....)……. Of course I had just finished with the third coat of my pretty red nail color of choice….fingernails looking beautiful and freshly manicured (…had spent about an hour making them look beautiful………)……when some woman decides to pick this IDEAL time to come strike a deal for sparklers and bottle rockets.  All I have to say is that by the time I was done wheeling and dealing, totaling her order, making change, and bagging her items for her – my fingernails looked like bloody red stumps at the end of my fingers…..I had freakin’ red nail polish ALL OVER…they were streaked, scratched, smudged and looked like SHIT for the entire rest of the day!  Freakin’ Idiot!

3.)    Well, as if I hadn’t learned my lesson from the previous days ‘Fingernail Fiasco’ – the next day I decided to shave my legs under the tent……Dry….with an old razor!  Let’s just say DEFINITELY NOT A GOOD IDEA!  (Note to self……..Absolutely under NO circumstances EVER do this again!)  I spent the rest of THAT DAY with blood running down my legs from various cuts and razor scrapes…………….AND a razor rash so bad that numerous people thru-out the day …(people I didn’t even know – STRANGERS for crying out loud…) pointing out my legs and argued the fact that I must have gotten into a bad case of Poison Ivy….WHAT……NO, you idiots!  I’m just a freakin’ MORON!  ………..

OH and there’s MORE…….

4.)    One day one of my dad’s friends came by the tent to visit with my dad (….we’ll call him ‘Lanny’….cause that’s his name in real life….)  My father wasn’t at the tent at the time……it was just Hairyman, my father-in-law and myself………So I approached Lanny, right? (….having not seen him in about 15-20 years) and wanted to say Hello (cause sometimes I’m nice like that……….sometimes……………)….Well of course he didn’t recognize me (……evidently I don’t look the same way I looked 20 years ago…….DUH!)   I told him who I was and he just stood there staring at me like a blind man would………I told him, “You didn’t recognize me, did you?”    And you know what he said?   He said, “NO, I didn’t, …….you’ve gotten a lot wider since the last time I saw you!”        REALLY!   Are you freakin’ kidding me?   Who says that?  

What a Frickin' Awesome Week! 

(Disclaimer:  The jokes about our parents were all in good fun! Hairyman and I absolutely LOVE our parents to death and would never intentionally hurt them!) 

OMGOSH! I married Chewbacca!

OK, here it is girls……………………I am married to a man whose friends call him Chewbacca. (I’m so proud!) There is no lying about it…….the mans got hair! And lots of it! I've married a hairy ape, so it seems!

And I admit that I’m forgetful, but I don’t really remember him having all this hair when I married him………….what’s up with that! It’s like sleeping with a big furry beast…………..I mean, where’d all the hair come from? He's got hair coming out of everywhere..................(Like I should talk………….I’m the one who’s got whiskers growing out of my chin and hair growing out of my nipples, remember?)

He tells me that all this hair is coming from the medication that he takes for his allergies. (And he didn’t have allergies when I married him…..but that’s another post, altogether!)

It seems that in the last 4 years, he’s developed black, hairy patches on his back in certain places……..not all over...................... just patches in areas of his upper and lower back! And I mean BIG hairy patches! HHEELLLLOOOOOO……………..Yuck, already!



(Actually, it doesn’t bother me TOO much, because I love him, right?).....................but I do make a point to laugh at him on occasion!

We actually went to a pool party last summer and he shaved his chest to look like the scene from ’40 year old virgin’ getting his chest waxed! Hilarious!



And what’s up with the hair all over his butt! (TMI!) (I really didn’t see that comin’ after all these years………..) Well, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, right? …………………a little shaving here ……a little shaving there and “SHA-BAM”………problem gone!

I mean really………….what’s the difference from me shaving my armpits, legs and doing some touching up in my……………… well……..you know! (Again: TMI!)

After I shave his back and butt for him, he’s good as new, right? No one is the wiser! …………….

(Accept, now I’ve broadcasted his little hairy problem all over my blog for the whole world to know! Oops!)


Well you know me………. I have this nasty habit of talking too much!

He’s gonna kill me! (And THAT'S where those sexual favors come in, ladies!) wink - wink
Photo - Universal Pictures, Steve Carell in "40 year old virgin"

Not Another Cheeseburger Story!

Ok, so after a night of drinking and hanging out with friends……of course my husband and I have got the munchies.

I, being the designated driver, pull into McDonalds for a late-night burger! (Oh My Gosh……… my mouth is watering, just thinking about the greasy cheeseburger that I’m about to devour!) Rob orders one Big Mac and fries and I order just one Big Mac. Rob decides to inhale the burger and fries on the way home to my mom and dads house…………….which is where we are planning to spend the night tonight. (My parents have left the door unlocked for us and have left the outside light on because …..let’s face it………….my parents are old and there’s no doubt that they’ll be in bed by the time we get home tonight!)

I tell Rob that I certainly don’t NEED to be eating a cheeseburger at 1:30AM, but oh, well……I’m hungry. And as I’m driving, I’m salivating from the aroma of the cheeseburger that Robs inhaling next to me.

So we get to my parents house, right? I hurry into the bathroom to relieve myself (because of course I have to go to the bathroom) and when I return to the kitchen, Rob’s got my Big Mac open and is in the process of removing the pickles!

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” I say.

“I’m gonna eat your burger, cause I’m still hungry!” Rob says.

“What do you mean you’re going to eat my burger?” I reply. “You just ate yours. That one’s mine!”

“You said you shouldn’t eat it anyway. You said you shouldn’t have ordered it because you shouldn’t be eating cheeseburgers at this time of night!” Rob says. (Great, he picks this time to actually pay any attention to what I say! Any other time, he'd be ignoring me!)

“I don’t care what I said. That Big Mac’s mine! Don’t touch it!” I say.

“OK, I’ll split it with you.” He says.

(Are you kidding me?) “What do you mean; you’ll split it with me? You just ate a whole burger and fries. This one’s mine! I’m not gonna split it with you!” I say. “Quit touching it!”

Rob proceeds to cut it into two equal pieces. “Come on, Hun! You eat half, and I’ll eat half!” He says.

(I am so PISSED!) “No, I’m not going to split the burger………….that’s MY Big Mac! I’m either eating the WHOLE thing or I’m not eating ANY OF IT! I say.

“Hun, do you know how ridiculous that sounds?” He says.

I stair at him! And then I stand in disbelief and watch my husband eat half of MY burger!

“Fine………you eat the dam burger!” (I’m pouting now...........I can't believe he ate half of my cheeseburger!) “I’m not coming to bed, I’m going to stay out here in the living room and read!” I say!

He walks into the bedroom…………then I wait to hear his snoring and then I, of course, sneak into the kitchen and eat the rest of MY Big Mac! (But I'm still pissed!)

OK, get this…………… (The next morning, I ask my dad if he heard us come in last night. My dad says he didn’t actually hear us come in, but says that he almost burst out laughing last night when he heard us bickering over a cheeseburger. He says he had to actually put his hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing in bed and waking up my mother, when I said (and I quote) ‘I’m either eating the WHOLE thing or I’m not eating ANY OF IT!)

Photo courtesy of microsoft clipart

Hooters, Anyone?

OK……. I love “Hooters Wings”………… who doesn’t?

In fact, (if the truth be known) …….I love GOING to Hooters ……..mostly, so I can admire the ‘Hot, Little, Anorexic, Hooter Bar-Maids’ who wear the “too-tight” tank tops with their “skin-tight” short shorts! (And no, I’m not a lesbian!)

But, as much as I love admiring those ‘little hotties’ dressed in orange and white, my husband loves gawking at them even more than I! This really doesn’t bother me, because he’s just being a typical man, right? Doing what any typical man would do………….stare at beautiful women (especially ones who are half dressed and falling out of their tops for everyone to see!) I just laugh at him; tell him to put his tongue back in his mouth, and remind him that I looked like that once, back when I was 20 years old, and before I had children! Get real………most of these girls are 18 – 22 years old! They’re babies………. of course they look good! See my point? Enough said!

Well, as you know, Rob and I go to Florida every year in December and sell Christmas trees from our Christmas tree tent. And wouldn’t you know, less than a mile away is a “Hooters.” It’s tradition that we stop and enjoy some wings a couple of times each year, while we’re in Florida.

Well, one night after work (about 10:00PM) we decide to order wings to go, and pick them up on the way home from the tent. Granted, by this time, after working about 13-14 hours in the hot sun, I look like total CRAP…..(been working all day with trees and wreaths, I have sap all over me, I’m sweating like a hog, my make-up is completely gone, my hair is in a dishevel, I’m filthy, and all I want to do is go back to our house, eat my wings, have a beer, take a shower and go to bed!) So we leave the tent and arrive at Hooters a couple of minutes later and I tell Rob to just go in and get the wings (we’ve pre-ordered) and I’ll wait in the car for him…………………….. I wasn't too keen on mingling with the ‘perfect looking Hooters girls’, while I myself looked like “total dog shit”, right?

Keep in mind, Rob’s reply was, “OK, hun, no problem, I’ll be right back in a few minutes!”

Well, about 10 minutes later, (me still waiting in the car) I start to get antsy……..THEN after about 15-20 minutes, I’m starting to get worried. What if something’s really wrong in there? Should I go in to see what’s keeping him? I know……………. Rob must have gotten sick and fainted (while in Hooters), and no one knows I’m his wife and I’m outside waiting in the car……I’m seriously anticipating an ambulance rolling into the parking lot any moment now. ………………No…………. maybe there’s a drunken fool inside and Rob and he have gotten in a bar fight over our hooter wing order……maybe the drunken idiot pulled a gun and tried to take our ‘wings’ after Rob had already paid for them……………25 minutes, now…………Or, maybe somebody mugged him in the bathroom and Rob’s laying unconscious on the floor bleeding from a head wound………..Oh my Gosh, I’ve got to get to Rob…………Ok ..............that’s it………I’m going in!

With the car door open and one leg on the ground, I look up and here comes Rob, out of Hooters. Is he whistling? He’s actually smiling!

“What the Hell happened in there?” I say. “What took you so long?” “Are you OK?”

“Nothing, they screwed up our order, they forgot to put it in, and so I had to wait.” He replies.

“For 25 minutes? You waited in there for 25 minutes for the order, with me in the car?” I say.

“You said you didn’t want to come in ‘cause you looked like Shit, so they offered me a beer and I just sat at the bar and waited. “ He replies. "They had the game was on."

“And you didn’t think it was necessary to come out to the car and tell your wife that the order was delayed and maybe invite her in to have a beer with you? 25 minutes, Rob………are you kidding me?”

“I was going to come out, but then they gave me another beer, so I just sat there and drank that one too. No big deal………….. I’ve got the order and now we can go.” He replies.

Unbelievable…………Now, JUST so you all have this straight………. This is what it boils down to……... MY husband, enters HOOTERS, sets in the bar and has not ONE, but TWO beers, while I (sweaty, hot, tired, and dieing of thirst) wait patiently in the car! Are you kidding me! Who does that?

At the time, I was in such awe that he would do such a thing, that I actually laughed unbelievably! I was both pissed and dumbfounded!

Trust me, he’ll never do that again! (But it makes for a great story, doesn’t it?)

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