Thursday, July 31, 2014

I'm Not a Creepy Stalker...

Isn't that exactly what a creepy stalker would say?

I have found some blogs I really like and identify with.  Sometimes I feel compelled to comment on said blogs.  Sometimes the authors of these blogs acknowledge my comments and sometimes they don't.  Most of these people are recognized people in the blogging world, unlike myself (sad face).  As I was posting a comment today, I wondered if any of these bloggers think I'm a weird stalker because of my comments or their frequency.  I'm not. No really, I'm not.  I haven't looked up their address, or tried to find their personal pages on the Book Face, or on LinkedIn.  Well not yet.  Now I just might have to do that.  Things just got a bit creepy.

My comments are pertinent to the post they have written and I'm not asking obscure questions like, "are you about a size 14?"  So I think I'm safe.  I just know, if people were reading my shit and commenting, people I didn't know personally, I'd be over the moon.  Maybe I'm just over thinking things because I should be cleaning the house and updating my resume, but I continue to procrastinate.  Surfing the web is way more fun. (Why do they call it surfing?)

Now I have a touch of a headache from all this pondering and I think I might go and Google a few people.  I'm sure the search results will make me a combination of jealous and depressed, since as I stated above, these people are actually recognized for their writing and I am not.  (My world takeover is not moving at a pace I'm happy with)  I think I'm having another mid-life crisis. Ugh.


Wednesday, July 30, 2014

To Each His Own

Let's talk about what I don't give two shits about.

First off, the Kardashians/Jenners.  I'm sick of opening up my computer and my Yahoo page pops up and there's Kim and Kanye and their miserable looking kid.  I don't care about their billion dollar wedding, how big Kim's ass is, or if their marriage is on the rocks.  I also don't care if her Jenner sisters are turning into alcoholic little whores.  I feel more stupid after spending the two minutes writing those sentences.


I also don't care about the Fifty Shades of Grey movie trailer.  I don't care what actors are playing what characters.  I made it through less than a quarter of the first book and was unimpressed.  I can only imagine what the theaters will be like when the movie comes out.  A bunch of over-sexed or under-sexed women with their huge buckets of of popcorn and Raisinets watching a bondage/control freak.  B O R I N G!  I'm not spending $10 on that movie ticket, or wasting 90 minutes of my life on that one.


I'm tired of the "naked" shows.  Naked and Afraid is just ridiculous.  Why would anyone do this without some big pay off if you made it the full 21 days.  I'm not going to be subjected to bugs, thirst, starvation, be cold and wet, burnt to a crisp, and having to look at a stranger's junk for 21 days unless there is some serious cash waiting for me on that helicopter they pick me up in.  Now there's Dating Naked.  Uh, that's a big no thank you.  If I'm getting naked with someone that soon, it will be in a pitch black bedroom.  I haven't spent shit tons of money on girdles and Spanx to let it all hang out on a first date.  Hello, haven't you all heard, genitals are not cute, that's why they call it "bumping uglies."  I did comment on Amy's blog, after she posted about Dating Naked that I would enjoy an episode or two of Naked Wipeout.  That show would be a winner in my book.
Tell me this wouldn't be hilarious if these people were naked.

Some things people post on the Book Face should just stay on Pinterest.  You take your pick, I know what mine are.

Saturday, July 26, 2014

Random Shit on a Saturday

How, in 2014, do people still believe that products like the flex belt actually work.  If it worked, they'd make a full suit.

I don't understand how they haven't found a "cure" for balding. Just study the growth of ear hair, eye brows and the nose hair growth of old men. Bam!

Babboo always says, "there's no such thing as big foot.  A satellite in space is watching you on the porch right now, but they can't find big foot?!  I call Shenanigans."

I'm thinking about writing a letter to a Disney character for shits and giggles.  I'm not sure which one yet.  I need to do some research.

I love flip flop tan lines.

We don't eat at chain restaurants.  No offense to you that do, but my nicknames for some, Crapplebee's,  Italian Denny's and Seafood Denny's.




Thursday, July 24, 2014

Red, Red Wine

I've never been much of a wine drinker.  I don't know what a good wine is.  I've tried to like red wines, but I just can't.  I guess it's an acquired taste, but most reds make me want to drink a glass of water because they are too dry, or I pucker up because it tastes like sour grape juice with vinegar.  As white trash as it is, I'll stick with a box of wine or Sweet Berry Wine!!!!

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Writer's Block

I had a million topics in my head last night, today those have dwindled to zero.  Check back later.

Saturday, July 19, 2014

Random Shit on a Saturday

Ped Egg and Dyson should join forces.  Everytime I use my Ped Egg I get a healthy sprinkle of grated foot skin on the floor.

I need a glow in the dark and a water-proof notepad or wipe-off board.  My blog ideas always come when I am in bed or in the shower and I swear to myself I will remember them, but never do.

I randomly associate tasks or events with songs that I sometimes change the words to.  When I am exfoliating in the shower, Rod Stewart's Infatuation becomes "Exfoliation, do, do, do, doo doo do do do, exfoliation...exfoliate me baby.  When the dog rolls a ball into an area they can't enter because of the indoor invisible fence, Kenny Loggins's Danger Zone plays in my head.

I love carbs.

Babboo has the biggest heart of anyone I know and the hardest person to buy gifts for!

I watch the news every morning, I'm officially old.

I make a kick ass Salted caramel ice cream.

The dog still won't sleep through the night.  I'm up at least twice a night, sometimes three times. My sleep is a whole lot of Fucked up because of it. This has been going on since we got her in January!

Keratin hair straightening rocks.  The home kind not the ridiculously priced salon treatment.

I still think Mystery Science Theater is hilarious.


Friday, July 18, 2014

All The Single Ladies, Hell Hath No Fury....

Anyone that is friends with me or reads this blog knows I piss and moan a lot.  If this is you're first time here you'll quickly learn that too, but don't think I am ungrateful about my life.  My life is always good and great at times.  It's just easier and much more interesting to write about the topics which make me piss and moan.

One thing I am hugely grateful for is that I am not in the dating scene.  My best friend, Carol, set me up with Babboo almost 3 years ago.  I had only been single for about 6 months when he and I started dating, so I was extremely lucky.  During those 6 months I hadn't even considered the whole on-line dating thing, so I don't know the ins and outs of it or the joys or horrors. Thank God.

As I was "researching" for this post, I was amazed at the number and very specific types of dating websites.  Some were very disturbing, and some were just totally absurd.  I think most people have heard about the "regular" sites like Match.com, eHarmony, Plenty of Fish, and Zoosk.  Then you have the sites that are hookup type sites, which also include, what I like to call, the cheater sites, which are just wrong.  Illicit Encounters, Real Wives Cheating, Married But Playing, are just a few I found, but the list goes on and on.  I find cheating disgusting, so if you Googled any of those websites and ended up here, you are a horrible fucking person.  The absurd are also plentiful.  My favorite absurd dating website, which I'm sure is a fake, Amish Online Dating.  If you know anything about the Amish, you can understand why this is such a nonsensical site.  If you don't know about the Amish, Google it, and you'll get it.  There's Farmers Only, STD Match, The Ugly Bug Ball, and Salad Match, just to name a few.  Only one of my friends have admitted to using any of these and that was Farmers Only.  Not sure why she used it, because she is not a farmer, nor is she looking for a farmer.

A friend, who used a "normal" site, posted on Facebook that she had a first date last night.   Two hours later she posted, "Got stood up!! Now my punishment is a traffic jam at 9pm."  Well of course, let the wave of comments commence, including me asking for a name and if I should publicly humiliate this guy on Facebook or in my blog.  That will come soon.  

To get all the facts right I told her to private message me some details, so I don't look like the ass hole labeling this guy as an ass hole.  This is her story:

"I got ready, waited for him to give the go, would take me 30 mins. I got there, there was a wait. I gave the hostess my number, she was to text me when the table was ready. I sat on the park bench outside the bar and waited. He calls me. So I answer my phone...He said "parking may be a problem". I'm like I park 2 blocks down at the Starbucks. He tells me all about how this is his route for ups, he knows where to park. I start talking to a baby next to me, I tell him about her, he says I think I see you. I turn around, he is there at the corner talking to me and waving in his car. He tells me he will be right there. 5 mins later the restaurant texts me the table is ready so I go in. I text him the table is ready, I'm inside. I get there, tell them he's parking and he'll be right there. I order a beer. 10 mins... 15.. I text him. Did you get lost?! Nothing. I call. One ring and voicemail. 30 mins I call again. One ring and voicemail. I embarassingly ask for my bill and run."

Of course I tell her she should Sly Dial him and tell him she hopes no one treats his daughters this way when they are old enough to date, because I'm a bitch that way. Find their weakness, stick the knife in, and twist. She tells me when she got home, "I went on the dating website we went on, he was online. I sent him a message explaining his wrongness and he blocked me.  Call him out on Facebook, I don't care."

So here it is, the "Call Out."  I deleted her picture and name, because quite frankly she did NOTHING wrong and I believe her anonymity should remain intact.
Per my friends request, here is his profile pic from Facebook.


Did you get his name in all of that?  If not, go back and read it again and steer clear of this one and let any of your friends in southeast, lower Michigan know too.  The moral of this story, don't be an ass hole when you use dating websites, or you will be called out on it, by someone, somewhere.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Back From Phishing

I posted yesterday that we were going to see Phish last night.  I wish my eyes were cameras because as soon as I got out of the car in the parking lot, I wanted to start snapping pictures to post.  Standing in line to go into the venue there were dreadlocks, hippie skirts, tie dye, lots of Phish t-shirts, and a noticeable odor of "skunk."  One very large stature woman had on purple fur leg warmers, too short shorts, a tank top, and some sort of woven "belt" made out of t-shirt strips that had a grass shirt look, but shorter, and she had her toddler with her in a stroller.  Like I said, I wanted to take pictures immediately.

We got through the line and entered the venue to find a man wearing what I can only describe as a tie dye tank top dress?  He had to have been 6'2", the dress was a dark shade of purple, almost a plum, with raspberry colored tie dye circles on it.  He was spinning around and twirling a hula hoop.

We proceeded to the closest area to get adult beverages and then went to our seats.  Even though we were almost an hour late, the show was on hippie time and we sat down during the first song they played.  The concert was at DTE Music Theater, which is a large outdoor seating arena, that has a pavilion and a lawn section.  Babboo, L, A, and I were in the pavilion, to the left of the stage, quite a ways back.  I didn't mind where our seats were because it was easy to get in and out of our seats, the restrooms were super close, and so were the beverages.  

I, of course, had to take an immediate survey of my surroundings.  Everyone within an eight seat radius was, what I consider, typical for a Phish concert, except for the couple in front of us who had to be in their 50s, dressed in casual attire. The woman had short, styled hair and very tasteful, natural makeup.  The man was clean cut, wearing a dark gray polo shirt and black golf shorts.  Babboo and I deemed them the "normal couple."  They only lasted through the first set and either grew tired of the constant haze, or just simply moved to other seats.  There was a guy in his late 20s early 30s to my left, who reminded me of a big dumb jock.  He danced the entire show like he was in an 80s aerobics video, but without any semblance of rhythm, but I appreciated that he was having a good time the entire show.  On one of my numerous trips to the drink stand I offered to buy him a beer, which he very politely declined and said after the beer he had, he was switching to water, very responsible.  When we got home and were recapping the night, Babboo said he talked to the guy between sets and he was pretty cool.  I still wonder if he was there by himself or if his friend(s) were just off doing whatever.

There are a few things about the "hippie" type of concerts that are typical.  The first, everyone is happy and friendly.  If someone bumps into you, they apologize immediately and sincerely mean it, they don't turn around and say, "what the fuck," and want to fight you.  I even got offered some pot cookie crumble in exchange for a cigarette, which I declined.  The second, the constant haze of smoke over the entire venue and the smell of a dog who was just sprayed by a skunk and was then doused in patchouli to cover the skunk smell.  The third, glow stick, glow bracelets, glow necklaces, and glow hula hoops.  If it glows, it was probably there.

The music was great even though I only knew a few songs of the 20+ song set list.  The people watching was amazing.  Would I go again?  Yes. It made Babboo happy, and he had a good night, so in the end so did I.  If I could sum up the show for those of you that may never make it to a Phish show, imagine the the dance scene from A Charlie Brown Christmas, all of the characters are dressed in tie dye or hippie skirts, and some have dreadlocks.  The haze around pigpen is actually smoke from all the weed that is being smoked and there are beach balls and glow sticks being tossed around.  Add a Phish song and you're there.

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

I've Got My Tie Dye and Birkenstocks Out

Photo from Jet Set Times
Babboo and I don't go out to eat that often, we don't go to the movies, we rarely will go to sporting events.  Not surprising for people that don't "like people."  We do however go to concerts.  Since we've been together I have seen Van Halen, Rush, Smashing Pumpkins, George Strait, Dave Matthews, John Mayer (twice), Alan Jackson, Bob Seger, Billy Joel, and maybe a couple others I could be missing.

Tonight we are going to see Phish.  Surprisingly, I have seen Phish before, Babboo has not.  I'm sure I will probably only know one or two songs even though a boyfriend in college was a pseudo hippie and listened to that kind of music.  The hardest thing I will have to endure tonight, around thousands of people, I have been nominated the designated driver.  Not only do I have to tote around 5 other people, who will be drinking, I will have to sit through hippies, young and old, doing their traditional hippie dancing, sporting their hippie attire, and smoking weed.  Please God, help me be strong.

Hopefully the spectacle of it all will amuse me and not totally annoy the shit out of me.  Right now I would place bets on the latter.  Hippie dancing is only funny for so long, and the smell of weed, good or bad, just smells like a skunk to me.  I'm sure I will have some good pictures to post though.  Hippies love to have their pictures taken and they will be too high to realize I'm doing it as a form of mockery, not as a "hey dude, let me document this for posterity, or so you remember it tomorrow."

I was looking forward to cutting into a t-shirt to make a halter top for tonight, but that joy has been squelched since it is 60 degrees out right now, and we all know anything below 72 is sweatshirt weather for me.  So I am left with the hope that I can eat something totally unhealthy and drown my sober, hippie over load in a huge plate of nachos.

Watch Instagram, Facebook, or Twitter for possible live updates.  Otherwise, I'm sure I'll have some great stories tomorrow.


Saturday, July 12, 2014

Random Shit on a Saturday

I'm at a point in my life here high fashion isn't a top priority.  My non-work wardrobe consists of jeans, an Old Navy or Gap t-shirt, flip flops, and aviators.

Day time talk shows are not what they used to be and neither is The Price Is Right.

I understand how people become recluses.

Dog food is expensive and so are American made rawhides, $25 a bag!

I'm smarter than I give myself credit.

I need more fiber in my life.

It's been almost a month since I've had a regular coke.  I miss McDonald's coke.

I love the show Rehab Addict.

My past two jobs gave me great insight on how to be or not to be an ass hole and the pronunciation of faux, chaise, and duvet.

I could live in Spain for the mid-afternoon naps alone.






Thursday, July 10, 2014

I've Got Nothing But Hairy Legs

No change really from yesterday, except the name of the day and the tasks I need to complete as Babboo's personal assistant.  Shopping for golf shorts today.  My list from yesterday was not finished, and I did not get any peanut M&Ms.  Guess which one of those will be completed today.

I attempted to find something to write about this morning, but honestly didn't put in much effort, so this brief, uninteresting post is what you get.  Deal with it.

I'm going to go take a shower and try to get moving.  I can tell the last time I showered by how long the hair on my legs is. It's kind of disturbing.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

I'm in No Mood For a Witty Title

I started watching Married At First Sight last night, sans popcorn, but Babboo got home from golf and did not want to watch it, so my "review" will have to wait until I finish it.

Today I'm in a blue mood.  I blame it on my period.  The only reason I don't lay in bed all day with a pound bag of peanut M&Ms is because the dogs won't let me.  I've been off of work long enough to feel like the biggest loser and I'm not talking the good kind of biggest loser, like the TV show.  I unfortunately have not lost even one pound, let alone multiple.  I guess it's good about the peanut M&M thing.

I've entered the poor me pity party, thanks to comparing myself to others I aspire to be like.  I find that a little ironic considering my recent post about the way people paint their perfect little lives on social media.  I should know better, but here I sit wallowing in self pity with no M&Ms in sight.  I really should keep a stash of those on hand for emergencies like this.  Hello, Mars Inc., will you be the major sponsor of my pity party?

I think my problem is I haven't had that passion and drive for something in a long time.  My jobs were NOT things I felt passionate about.  Maybe that is my fairy tale, a rewarding job, I feel passionate about, that allows me to pay my bills and have a comfortable life.

The Virgo in me says to break out the pen and paper, make some lists, cross things off the list and feel some sort of accomplishment to get help me back on track.  The hormonal me says drive to Rite Aid and buy some tampons, some Doritos, a Mt. Dew, and a bag of peanut M&Ms and let the pity party commence.  I'm sure all my male Facebook friends are loving this post (all the period references), which actually makes me giggle a little and feel slightly better.

While doing a little "research" for this post, I stumbled upon this article, How to Make People Uncomfortablewhich also made me feel better for a brief moment.  The general outward appearance section listed a few good ones, my favorites are in bold:


Finally, you can disturb others by donning certain apparel, such as:
  • Preppie clothing, Really this works?
  • Punk dress
  • Gothic dress
  • Bondage gear
  • Suits
  • Mismatched outfits
  • Parachute pants
  • Very short skirts
  • Turbans (if you wish to scare Americans), this one is so wrong....but still got a giggle
  • Sandals with socks underneath
  • Fishnet stockings
  • Butcher aprons, shit I do this all the time, no wonder I can't find a job!
At least I have this article for future reference.  What Pinterest board do I pin it to?  "It's All About Me" sounds like the right board, or maybe "Inspiration and Signs."  At least the sun is shining today.  I don't know if I could break myself out of my slump today if it were a down pour outside.  I'm posting and making a list.  I'll let you know how it goes or doesn't.

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

I Take You, Uh What Is Your Name Again? To Be My Husband...

...for a few weeks to see if it will work out.

I do not consider myself to be a reality TV junkie, even though I might be.  I religiously watch every season of the Bachelor/Bachelorette.  Besides that, I do watch other reality shows, but mostly the ones Babboo watches, Deadliest Catch, Naked and Afraid, and the food competition shows like Hell's Kitchen.  I am intrigued by the FYI, channel's Married at First Sight, which premieres tonight.  This one screams, "SANCTITY OF MARRIAGE BE DAMNED!"  I'm not sure what the success rate of the Danish show is, which has the identical name, but I believe I will tune in because it sounds like a possible train wreck in the making.
The description of the show on the website has this to say:
  The couples will never meet or know each other until they walk down the aisle and see each other face to face, for the first time, when they get married. Each episode of “Married at First Sight” will follow the classic lifestyle stories of newlyweds – from the honeymoon to early nesting to other relatable events of married life. After several weeks together, each couple must make a decision: do they remain together or decide to separate?

I have no problem with people who get divorced. People make choices based on where they are in their lives at that time.  People change, their needs change, circumstances change.  If any one of my friends came to me and said they had been really working to make their marriage work, but it was time to cut their losses, I would be totally supportive.  If a friend came to me and said, "hey I'm going to marry this guy for shits and giggles, and if it doesn't work I can always get a divorce," I would be less supportive.

I don't care if you have 100 experts picking the bride/groom.  A relationship needs time to grow and be cultivated.  I can barely keep a fern alive, so even with help from a master gardener, I'm sure its life would still be in jeopardy.  I don't see how this could possibly be any different.  I know they are randomly putting these people together, but how much information can they possibly be using to pick someones mate?  I'm sure there's some sort of application for show candidates, and hopefully background checks, psychological tests, and lie detector tests that are done before they pair some poor girl or guy with Buffalo Bill, or Glen Close's character from Fatal Attraction, or the husband from Sleeping With the Enemy, or Kathy Bates' character from Misery..... the list goes on and on, I think you are picking up what I'm laying down here.  I just don't think you should treat marriage like picking a paint color, I like what I see on this tiny paint sample, so I'm just going to go with it and repaint later if I don't like it.

I'm going to give the first episode a try and report back.  This better not be an hour of my life I wish I could get back.  The up side, I'm off Atkins so I can partake of a big bowl of popcorn which I have 10 minutes to make before the train wreck begins.

You're As Cold As Ice

Babboo and I are night and day when it comes to tolerating temperatures.  I easily get cold.  Pretty much anything below 72 degrees is cold to me.  I am not one of the crazy Michiganders who break out the summer wardrobe when spring temperatures break the 45 degree mark.  I am currently sitting on the couch in a sweatshirt with a blanket over my legs.  Babboo, on the other hand, is always hot.  In the summer the first thing he does inside the front door is take off his shirt.
In the winter, I go to bed with a t-shirt, sweatshirt, and flannel pajama bottoms on, and he is in boxers.  Two winters ago we made it through December without turning on the upstairs furnace.  I should say he easily made it, I barely made it.  Most nights I would start off with the hood of my sweatshirt up and my exposed nose was like an ice cube sitting on my face.

Picture Courtesy
The shower temperature is another story.  Usually, I was always the first up and showered, but now, due to my employment situation, he's been the one that takes a shower first.  I then turn the shower on to warm up, and without thought step in and the scalding hot setting he prefers, burns the first layer of my skin off.  It's like a scene from Silkwood minus the people scrubbing me down with steel wool loofahs.  I'm not sure how any human can stand the temperature of this water.  If I could endure the shower of geyser temp water, I bet you I would be 20 pounds lighter because my fat would start to melt off my body.

No need for a chemical peel for this girl.  Babboo's shower temp is a cheaper alternative.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Oh Look At Me and My Fancy Car, and My Bank Account...

As you know Babboo hates the "Book Face," he always says he doesn't give a shit if someone is at Disney World with their kids, or what restaurant they are at.  He says, "if I want to know what is going on with my friends, I'll call them."  I say fair enough, but schedules don't always permit 30 minute phone conversations or an impromptu lunch.  It's also a nice way to be able to make plans with someone you haven't seen in awhile because you know you'll be at the same event, which you would have had no idea, if it weren't for Facebook.

Recently I went to the Dave Matthews concert with Babboo.  I was able to meet up with one of my sorority sisters, Audrey, who I haven't seen in 15+ years, because she had posted she would be going to the show too.  Although our meeting was brief, it was awesome to see her again in person and we couldn't have had that chance if it weren't for Facebook.

Now onto the true subject of this post.  Most of you reading this are, more than likely, friends with me on Facebook.  Most of you will not fall into this category, at least from your posts, I don't think so, or maybe your lives really, really, suck and the you are under exaggerating the bad shit.  Aren't you all sick of that, or those, Facebook friends who paint their lives on Facebook like a fucking fairy tale?  My perfect house, my perfect husband, my perfect kids, our perfect vacation, my perfect job.....  Really?  I mean my life is good, really good in fact, but it's not fucking Stepford perfect, and I'm guessing no one's is.

I find it refreshing when someone is totally honest about their life when posting on Facebook.  One of my friends from high school recently posted a picture on Facebook of her kitchen with this description:

                    "Don't compare your real life to other people's abbreviate, edited highlights they reveal on Facebook. In an effort to promote transparency and to be genuine I am going to post a picture of what my kitchen looks like right now, without touching anything.  I dare you to do the same in the comment section below! Are you scared?  haha..."

I thought this was genius, not that I posted a picture, I just couldn't do it, the kitchen looked like a bomb went off.

Of course we all post pictures of life events on Facebook, or something we think is cool.  God knows I post a billion pictures of the dogs and cars that I wish were mine.  But I think with some of my other posts, you know, this is me, the real me, snark and all.

The moral of this post, be real on Facebook.  You don't have to be perfect for people to like you.  If you are friends with someone on Facebook, more than likely, you are well aware of their flaws and short comings and they are aware of yours.  Don't be this guy, the truth will rear its ugly head eventually.


I think Dave summed it up nicely with these lyrics:

                    "Oh look at me in my fancy car and my bank account
                      Oh, how I wish I could take it all down 
                      into my grave, God knows I'd save and save
                      Man, take a look again, take a look again
                      all the thing you have collected,
                      well in the end it all piles up so tall to one big nothing, 
                      one big nothing at all"

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Home Cooking

Short Rib Sandwiches recipe and photo by Ree Drummond
I like food, I like to eat good food.  Hence why I am on a diet.  The Food Network is on our TVs quite a bit.  Babboo likes to watch the cook off style of shows like Food Network Star, Cutthroat Kitchen, and Chopped.  We both enjoy Diners Drive-Ins and Dives and I really like Guy Fieri.

My personal favorites are The Pioneer Woman and Trisha's Southern Kitchen.  I really want to be friends with Ree and Trisha.  I love the food they cook, good ol' down home goodness, the kind of food that's cooked with love.  Their food isn't pretentious or have to be perfectly plated.  They seem to me to be laid back and real, the type of people I would like to share a beer with on the porch.  I don't think I would like to live in Oklahoma, no offense to those that do, and now that Trisha has moved to Nashville it won't be as easy to plan our get togethers. I think Trisha would appreciate my humor a little more than Ree, but I just know we all could be besties and maybe Ree could give me some blogging advice.

What a coincidence, I just turned on the Food Network and Trisha is on, so I've got to go, and then I need to clean.  My cleaning schedule is not working that well, so I need to regroup after I watch Trisha.  I feel a list coming on.