Random Tuesday - Southern Style

Due to my recent vacation down to Tennessee, I thought I would hit you all up, Southern style

• The finally tally on my weekend binge eating was 13 Corndogs, 10 Krispy Kreme donuts and 5-6 tons of barbecue type food. I have started to detox already. I have only gained 3 pounds after stuffing my pie hole for four days but I feel disgusting. I also have a splitting headache from sugar withdrawal. I can't believe I did that to myself.
• I noticed that you have to specifically ask for "unsweetened" ice tea in the South. If you don't, you get "Sweet Tea". It is the most vile, nasty, sugary stuff in the world. TH loves it. He drank at least 5-6 gallons of it while we were there and thus, he peed every 12 minutes. We don't have Sweet Tea up north. Thank God. That stuff is gross.
• I stick out like a sore thumb in the South. Every girl down there looks like she has been attacked by the make up ladies at Bloomingdale's. I don't wear lots of make up; maybe a little bronzer, mascara and blush. And I certainly didn't get all gussied up to go to a race track. These girls are made up like beauty pageant contestants. They definitely abide by the rule of "putting your face on before you leave the house."
• You also need to have a fake tan in the South. Everyone is bronze. There is a tanning center at every corner. My pasty, winter white, Irish skin introduced me as a Northerner before I even opened my Yankee mouth. Of course, the results of the fake baking was clear as day on the older generations. Half of the women had skin like a lizard handbag.
• And finally, you must have big hair in the South. The bigger the better. I stepped into the ladies room at one restaurant and was overcome by the hairspray these women were using. If the hairs not big, it's sprayed, gelled or shellacked up into some God awful creation. These women must have spent hours getting ready. All I did was shower, throw my hair in a baseball cap and hit the road.
• Every single food franchise is represented on Route 11E in Johnson City, TN. I've never seen so many fast food places in my life.
• There seems to be a contest amongst everyone to see how much stuff you can fit on your front porch. It was not uncommon for people to have 2-3 appliances, a couple of couches and even a bathtub on their front porch.
• Beer is sold at convenience stores. Liquor and wine are sold at "liquor stores". This confuses the hell outta me. I went to a gas station/convenience store that has a "Beer Cave". There is another convenience store that you can pull up to a drive thru window and order a keg, a bucket of chicken and other assorted items. They'll just pass them thru and you never have to leave your car.
• There are no gyms or fitness centers. I couldn't find one. It seems that being healthy is not a priority. Alcohol, lard and nicotine are first and foremost. Everyone smokes. Yet, every facility is non-smoking. You have to walk thru a smoke screen to get in a restaurant.
• Southern men are just gorgeous.....the ones that are in shape from some manual labor or just blessed with good genes. They all drive huge pickups and wear jeans and work boots. I spent a majority of the weekend with very damp panties. I love me a good Roughneck

Unbuttoning the Top Button - Bristol Trip Day 3

**If any of you have sent me an email in the past few days and I haven't responded, please resend it. My email shit the bed with 25 new emails in the hopper that I lost. So that's the reason I've been ignoring you!**

The second night in the Hotel of Horror passed by without any creepy crawly things or diseases. I plan to burn all of my clothes when I get home. TH has turned up the A/C to a balmy 58 degrees. I'm freezing, but I think it might be keeping the germs at bay. We are in a nonsmoking room but not a nonsmoking floor. The couple in the room next to us likes to light up a carton or two at 3:00 am every morning. Our room smells like an ashtray. I just figured out that our window opens, but there's no screen. I have it cracked open about a foot. I need fresh air so badly that I'm taking my chances on a huge bat or bird flying in our room. I also have an excellent view of the "Crowbar" and its a happenin' place tonight.

Today was the official day for the Sprint Cup Series race. I started it out in style.

5 more Krispy Kremes. I made TH stop at 3 gas stations before I found some. They were a hot item for Race Day and most places were sold out. Because I didn't think I had enough cholesterol and fat, I added a McGriddle breakfast sandwich from McDonalds. I felt disgusting after I ate that. I don't know why I do that to myself. I know McDonalds makes me feel sick. I just love the idea of it.

The ride from the hotel to the track is always an interesting one. There is beautiful farmland and lots of broken down houses and barns. Every now and then you'll see something like this:

See that gigantic mansion in the background. It looks like it belongs in California or something. This particular one is right near the racetrack. Look at all the campers and tents over to the side. These people are renting out their land for race fans to camp on!!

The race didn't start until 1:30 pm so we walked around for awhile. The atmosphere is carnival like and there are booths and trailers all over the place with tons of "fan experiences". We made our way over to the Speed Channel stage where they were live on the air with the pre-race reports and commentary. I made another new friend in the crowd:

He was a pimp. I loved his shoes. Apparently, you can buy manheels on Ebay.

But, on to more important things. Corn dogs. This makes 13 total in 3 days.

I had to unbutton the top button of my jeans after these.

The race began with crazy parachuting guys landing on the racetrack.

The Star Spangled Banner sung by some country star I've never hear of and a gigantic flag.

And we were finally off. 500 miles of chaos!!!!

A pit stop or two!

And the winner was Kyle Busch (aka the biggest asshole in NASCAR)

After spending two and a half hours in traffic (and that's not that long) and a nasty dinner at the Olive Garden (all the good restaurants in the area are closed on Sunday or have gone out of business) we are back at the Hot Zone (aka our hotel room).

Our flights leaves at 2:30 pm tomorrow. We can't wait to get home.

9 Corndogs and Counting - Bristol Trip Day 2

We survived the night in the Un-Super 8, (aka the hotel that is so gross I wear my flip flops every where). Surprisingly, the bed is unbelievably comfortable. I would be afraid to run a CSI black light over it but we slept soundly for 8 hours. I'm pretty sure we've haven't contracted any diseases. TH says that's what we have antibodies for. Ewwww!!! If you were wondering why we haven't checked into a non-slimy hotel, I'll tell ya why. There isn't anything available for miles. During race weekend, the hotels book up like crazy. We couldn't find anything if we wanted to. So, we might be wearing HazMat suits tonight.

My day started in the best possible way:

Bag of Krispy Kreme Donuts

We don't have these objects of desire up North. I ate 5 of them: 3 glazed, 2 cream cheese filled. You can almost hear me getting fatter.

I love this building. It makes me want a hot dog and fries ever time we see it. I was on my second donut when we passed by. I still wanted a hot dog.

Practice at the track. Yeah, baby!!!

Well, looky here...corn dogs. The five donuts were a distant memory. (It had only been 1 1/2 hours)

TH spotted this excellent looking hair do. I really have no words for this.

More corn dogs. Now, I have eaten a total of nine in two days.

Race Geek! Here I am. I'm wearing my scanner headset (so I can hear the driver's radio), I'm freezing my fucking ass off and of course, eating a corn dog.

The kick ass view from our seats. Second from the top, baby!!! The Nationwide race has just started.

Every sport has one of these guys. He was running around getting random people to put beer in his huge funnel. It was around 5 pm by this time. 3/4 of the race fans are hammered at this hour and a few are passed out on the stands.
Classic fan. Just check out that gut! I don't think drinking Bud Light is gonna help you out there buddy. Where's Jenny Craig!!



During one of the feature races, I spent a great deal of time checking out this hot cop and the enormous bulge in the front of his pants! Just look at it!!!!! Even I don't get that excited at the races.

Night time view of the track from the road as we were leaving.

So, the big race day is tomorrow. I will try to calm myself with the donuts and corn dogs. Have you noticed that I'm obsessed with a food that looks like a huge penis and a glazed dessert that has a hole in it? I'm naughty even when I'm eating!

Pole Day - Bristol Trip Day 1

Pole had nothing to do with stripping, even though I did see a strip bar down the street from our hotel. Pole Day is the day that each of the teams qualify for race day. This is the day for die hard fans.

Of course, our day didn't start at the pole. It started at fucking 4 AM. Did you know that is fucking early!!! We had an 8 AM flight out of Boston. We live an hour and a half outside of Boston, you have to be there 1/2 before your flight, you do the math. Anyway, it's fucking early. I don't do mornings. I was a mess until I had a coffee.

On our first flight (we layed over in Charolotte, NC), I was smooshed between TH (whose shoulders are around 4 feet wide) and this little stock broker guy. The stock broker guy sat there and snapped his gum for 2 whole hours. I was ready to kill him. He was reading these reports that looked like they had some juicy info on them and had "confidential" stamped all over them. I kept trying to get a peek, but glancing to the side was making me queasy.

Upon our arrive in the Charlotte Airport, I made a beeline for the Cinnabon stand. This is my annual breakfast in Charlotte.

I inhaled this in less than five minutes. Mmmmmmmmmmmm!!!

While we were waiting for our flight to Tennessee we discovered this fellow.

I was worried that he was dead, but he rolled over soon after I took this picture. You couldn't pay me to lay on an airport floor.

Before I made a quick trip to the ladies room, I asked TH to tend my bag. I'm carting around my laptop and didn't want anyone to take off with it. He looked at me and said, "I'll let you tend My bag". Even in an airport, after 2 hours of sleep, my husband still thinks with his crotch.

We finally arrived and were off to the track.

Yeah, Baby!!!!

Of course, I was hungry again.

Foot long corndog!!! I ate two.

I also made some friends

Yes, lovers. There I am. I am out of the closet. Of course, I am sticking my tongue out and making rock horns. Not the most flattering and you don't really get an idea of what I look like. Thus, the perfect photo. These guys were from Ohio. We became fast friends after they woke me up from a very nice cat nap I was taking in between events. After that, there was plenty of fist bumping and Yee Hawing. They were even showing me pictures of their kids towards the end. Strangers just love me. We're gonna try and find them tomorrow. They were fun even though they were Tony Stewert fans. Where else in the world can you go and see a shopping cart with a drag car motor. They will actually run this around the track....slowly.And here is our ride back to our car in the parking lot. Nothing like a bus with a giant jug of milk on it.

Due to our last minute decision to go on this trip, we were stuck lodging at a Super 8. Yuck! It's fair from super. It's actually gross. I'm also a hotel snob. I prefer the Hilton Gardens and Holiday Inns. There is one across the highway at us. I stare longingly at it thru the window. That's if I can stop staring at this.



Our hotel is next to a biker bar called the Crowbar. It just doesn't get better than that.

More to come tomorrow. I need to get to bed and sleep off my corndog hang over.

Red Neck Girl

Tomorrow at precisely 8:00 AM, I will be traveling from Boston, MA to Tri-City, TN. TH and I are going on our annual pilgrimage to the land of cows, beer, BBQ and race cars. It's Bristol, baby!

In the first year of our relationship, I never understood how every Sunday, TH could sit in one place for 3+ hours and watch cars go around in a circle. It wasn't until he dragged me to my first race at Loudon, NH that I became hooked. The speed, the smell and all the beautiful men. All I have to hear is "Gentlemen, start your engines" and my panties get damp. This is my favorite weekend of the year

I'm gonna do my best to document my trip for you all. I'm going to bring my laptop and camera with me. You'll get daily updates. Lots of pictures (maybe one of me....Cameron, calm yourself) and all the funny things that happen along the way. TH and I can't take a vacation without something going wrong. Luggage gets lost, it rains the entire time, etc.

Wish me luck! Corn dogs, BBQ, ice cold beer and rough neck men....here I cum.....opps! I mean, come.

Hello 32, It's Me. Please Don't Tell Anyone We Met Today.

32 years ago today at precisely 11:22 am, I popped out of my mothers WooHA and into this big crazy world. Yes, lovers, today is B Day. The day that the world celebrates me.

I hate my birthday. I hate it with a vengeance. Not for the obvious reasons: I'm getting older, I'm closer to death than I was last year, I'm getting old, Fat doesn't melt off my body as quickly as it did 5 years ago, I'm getting older.....yada yada yada. I don't care about that. Those factors are uncontrollable. It's just that ever since I was old enough for birthdays to count (that would be 13 and up), I have never had a good birthday. No ones ever thrown me a huge surprise party or any party for that measure, I've never gotten that awesome present and ever since I moved out of my parents house, I've never had someone make me a cake. Ever year it gets worse. It's like Fate is trying to out do herself every year. Let's see what she can do this year to really piss me off. Last year was no different. TH forgot my birthday. The first year of marital bliss and my husband forgets it's my birthday. He tried to stick a band aid on the catastrophe by stating that he had remembered weeks before when he bought me the concert tickets as a gift, but didn't remember to actually give them to me on this particular day. This was after he came home from the office extra late that night. After he raged for 1/2 hour about his terrible day as I sat on the couch listening like the dutiful wife all the while thinking, "Did he really forget it's my birthday or is this some crazy plot that will end up in a surprise." No surprise. Only a horrified look in his eyes after I asked him if he knew what day it was. It took about 10 seconds for him to come around to full panic. He had committed the ultimate sin and I haven't let him forget it. Payback is a mean bitch.

I have decided to let this day pass by without any fanfare. I don't think any of my guys know it's my birthday and I seriously doubt if any of them care. Fancy Pants knows and I have threatened him with bodily harm not to tell anyone. I even threatened to hire a stripper for his next birthday. The look for fear in his eyes was wonderful. He knew I would do it too. I told him that he would probably make me cry if he told. He told me that he just might because he's never seen me cry before and was wondering if I knew how.

I'm celebrating this day for myself. I'm gonna eat a big nasty BLA(Bacon, Lettuce and Avocado) sandwich with a huge side of pasta salad for lunch. I'm gonna have a cupcake with cream cheese frosting and a side of half sour pickle spears (don't ask...it's my thing. I don't actually eat them together). Then I'm gonna work off all those calories with a huge kickboxing class and then eat a big ole plate of sushi for dinner.

Oh...and TH knows. I've reminded him every day for the past week.

Lustful For Life

I was once referred to as "lustful" and I wasn't even discussing sex. Of course, being the guttered minded nymphette that I am, confusion set in. I had been describing my love of food. Where was the sex in that? Bananas, cucumbers and whipped cream weren't even mentioned. I needed my Merriam Webster to look up the meaning of lust.

Lust: n. strong sexual desire.>a passionate desire for something.>chiefly theology a sensuous appetite regarded as sinful. v. (usu. lust for/after) feel lust for someone or something.

Alright, I admit it. All three of those definitions describe me.

I will go complete, totally overboard when describing something I enjoy. During my short stint as a waitress, I routinely sold the most expensive entree special because I described it so well. One woman told me I looked "euphoric" when I explained how the mascapone and apricot filling in the stuffed pork chop would melt in your mouth. To watch me express my love for a particular restaurant is an experience all its own. Just stay the name and my hands will clasp at my chest as I outwardly groan and say "Ohmygod!!! I love that place. Are you going there? Ohmygod!! You should order this or this or this. And don't forget to try this....Ohmygod! That place is soooooooo goooood!" To watch me eat there is an even greater experience. I have been near swooned on more than one occasion as I took my first bite of the baked stuffed quahog (that's a kind of clam for all you non-seafood eaters) swimming in melted butter with a few dashed of hot sauce and sea salt (my mouth is actually watering as I type this). Fellow diners will give me that same look that Meg Ryan got when she had her fake orgasm in "When Harry Met Sally". Yes, lovers. That is me as I make love to a fantastic corn beef Reuben on pumpernickel. Co-workers are never surprised if they walk by my office and hear me making tiny mewing sounds as I nibble on a cookie. If I really like it, I make sure everyone knows about it.

The same can be said for those that I adore. People love to use me as a reference. (Be mindful, I'm very selective of who I recommend). I will gush and gab about how unbelievable so-and-so is and how they would be perfect at what ever they do. In short, I'm over the top.

So, if you are ever in a "toy" shop and spy a tall blond with her hands clasped at her chest, jumping up and down exclaiming..."YES! You have to buy that one. It's AMAZING!" or you're in a restaurant and there is a woman in the booth next you making soft whimpering sounds as she digs into her steak and cheese sub, say hi to her. It could very well be me.