Fantasy Football...and stuff

McNabb has totally screwed up my fantasy football.

I watched "COPS: Russia" recently. I don't know why COPS would want to go to Russia. I personally would love to see COPS: Zimbabwe or COPS:Switzerland. However, there were some interesting scenes on COPS: Russia. I thought we Americans were the only ones who walked around drunk with our shirts off. Not at all. Also, I thought Russians didn't get arrested for being intoxicated in public (as I thought it was standard there). Their drunk tank was more like a drunk chair as people were tied down to a wooden chair and left for a few hours. And motorcyle gangs are prevalent in Russia. For someone who doesn't have their license or registration on them, they can easily go to "work camp" for two years and have their license pulled for five as their sentence. Pretty tough. They even had their own COPS theme song in Russian. If you get a chance to watch it...don't. I pretty much gave it all away.

Watched a movie last night called "2001 Maniacs". I do not recommend this movie unless you want to waste 190 minutes of your life. Some people often ask me "Saucy, how can I waste 190 minutes of my life?" I used to be perplexed but now I am not.

Went with the Renegades to see the Dixie Derby Girls roller derby bout tonight. I particularly enjoyed the big girl whose number was 747. I wouldn't mess with those girls. They can skate backwards.

Before we ventured to the Roller Derby, we went to a new spot in town. A new sports bar has recently opened and I'm excited to possibly have this as our team bar. I haven't been happy with our current restaurant situation as they have excuses for their poor service. After tonight, however, I'm even MORE excited about having this new place as our own. Do you know why? Is it because they boast over 60 tvs? Nope. Is it because every booth has its own tv? Nope. Is it because they have a private team room available? Nope. Ten beers on tap? Nah-uh. You want the real reason? Because our waitress was missing her middle finger!!! Thanks to Dana for pointing this out. There was no nub, just a missing digit. Sure it's mean to make fun....but I couldn't help it. I even yelled "High four" to my teammates. Jokes were made about finger foods, finger-lickin'-good chicken, and cheetos' cheese getting on her knuckle.

I'm going to hell.

Have fun at work bitches. I'm off all week (and by off I mean job hunting yet again this year).

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Safety Dance

thought my blog was going to recap (short for recapitulate) the paint party during the Iron Bowl, but it was ousted by my brother's so-called "birthday party". Don't get me wrong, the paint party was fun. Give some football ladies paint and promise them beer and wings and you'll get your entire house painted in a day. I'm just glad I didn't get the pink/red room. Thanks Char for choosing the more mellow room.

And who brings their dog to a paint party? Seriously, there was a wiener dog with a huge scar that went around yapping the entire time. He didn't even belong to the owners, just one of the guys there to paint, though I didn't see this guy paint at all. Matter of fact, every time I went into the kitchen he was either eating or holding his wiener…dog. Dana named the dog Mr. Scarface Barks-A-Lot. Evidently he was Shakespearean.

Anyway, my brother, the wrestler, decided to have his birthday party Saturday night. Did anyone know, besides a few of us, that his birthday is actually December 6? Having a birthday party two and a half weeks before your birthday isn't right. If so I plan on having mine next week (my b-day is in August).

The location of this shindig is called Tammy's Outback in Fayetteville. Now most of you think of "Outback Steakhouse" with their hooley doolies, their walkabouts and their "This is a knife" concoctions. Nah-uh. This is the favorite place for the yocals to drink and cause melees…but not brouhahas.

I've been once. It's like a roadhouse without Swayze cleaning up the riffraff. My brother made promises of karaoke so I just had to go. I've seen him do karaoke a long time ago. I believe it was "Regulators" with Warren G. and Nate Dogg…

Of course I love to karaoke as well. I've been known to hump a stage doing "Like a Virgin" back in the day. Yes Dad, I know…..(my dad reads these…hi). So I show up and find my brother is half drunk and people I haven't seen since my high school reunion three months ago. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. But there was no karaoke this night.

I sit down and dad hands me his beer. Luckily we drink the same kind (Miller Lite) and start talking with the drunks. Yes, it's only 7:30. My brother's man-friend Joe comes over and tries to make out with me. Sorry Joe, I don't think Mindy, your wife who's sitting RIGHT HERE, would like that. That Joe is a mess.

Well…the night went on. And on. Joe and I decide to have a dance-off. I've done these before and I have honed my skills. I have also added to my "dance-off" repertoire. He wasn't ready for this jelly. Joe breaks out the Roger Rabbit. Back to me with the running man…with the fall to the ground. It goes back and forth. Yes, I even pull out the New Kids "Right Stuff" dance. The crowd was into it. Back and forth we danced…and danced. My brother kept egging me on to do other moves (Ricky from 'Better Off Dead') and the powerslide. I did, however, do the powerslide. That hurt pretty bad. A jukebox was playing songs and somebody put on "What a Girl Wants"…so I did my belly dancing moves I have been learning. Like I said, he wasn't ready.

We end our dance-off and take a seat. We were tired.

Another actual birthday party was happening next to us. They put a blindfold around the old guy's head and some fat guy wearing a coconut bra, grass skirt, and long blonde hair came out to dance on him. Once they took the blindfold off, the old man slid out his chair so fast! Then I danced with the coconut bra woman/man.

Then a strip-tease-like song came on. My brother grabbed his chair and sat down. He wanted a lap dance. Well Joe, his man-confidant, came over and did his best. I went over and pretended to give him one, shouting to everyone watching "This is my brother!" Yeah it was gross.

Later on, Joe wanted to challenge me again. Let's just say it ended with him doing the Hulk Hogan leg drop and almost breaking his tailbone. I think we were done for the night. Like I said…he wasn't ready….

So if you ever want to have a non-birthday birthday party, let me know.

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This past Saturday night, I ventured to see my brother wrestle in our hometown. Usually he wrestles in Alabama or other cities in Tennessee; rarely does he wrestle in Fayetteville. However, opportunity knocked and he wrestled in NSA (New School Action). Now mind you, it's no FTW but I still went to see him. That's what family does. Also in case he gets injured it's good to have a family member present to give proper information: SSN, DOB, etc… And yes, I know his SSN. I used it when I tried to qualify to be on 'Who Wants to Be a Millionaire' when it first came on. I don't think he knew that though.

I brought company with me to watch this match in my tee-tiny hometown. I enjoy going to wrestling matches because of the different types of people that come. You have the family members of the wrestlers, the ring rats (groupies), families with small kids and old people who try to be a part of the show (like granny at FTW who goes after the 'bad guys' with a stick). Oh, and to watch the actual wrestling, though sometimes the crowd participation outs the wrestler's performance. Like Saturday night…

We get to the armory to see my bro about to start his match. I pay my admission and sit down in the plethora of available seats. He's on the mic making fun of everyone, which is one of my other favorite parts. He's pretty quick and I also like to heckle him. I said something about his momma and he told me to shut up. Good times. The ring announcer looked like one of the 3 Stooges and wore Elvis glasses. He didn't smile the entire night. Also a cameraman was running about.

There were probably 30 or so fans there. It was a small crowd in a huge venue with lots of reverb. Every time someone was slammed, the ring echoed throughout the building, sounding like a bomb exploding.

Behind me are two guys. One is in a wheelchair and evidently has CP. He looks to be in his teens or early twenties. You can tell he enjoys the show because he's yelling at the wrestlers (we'll call him 1 Fan). His friend was sitting with him. To my left was an old man who donned an air-brushed "Pa Pa" hat with alligators and fish either glued or pinned to its bill. He was agile, that old man; however you couldn't understand a damn word he said. He only had his top dentures and every word sounded like the word "barb".

Back to the lecture at hand…

My brother's match was pretty good. He took some chest kicks and threw his little opponent around like a rag doll. There was even a table involved. I swore his opponent broke his neck a few times but I guess he was ok.

The next match soon started with Wild Thing Will Owens (WTWO )coming out of the dressing room. WTWO wears a hot pink leotard, a pink bandana, and a pink shirt. Of course he had the matching hot pink pads and boots. I had seen him wrestle before and he puts on a good show. He's a bad guy and knows how to work that angle.

So out walks WTWO and everyone starts heckling him, including 1 Fan who calls him a "faggot" in his own special way. I don't want to be mean, but having a kid in a wheelchair heckle you is pretty bad, especially when he calls you a "ffffffaggot". The fans start laughing and it eggs 1 Fan to say more. Needless to say, he did. WTWO couldn't help but laugh. He tried very hard to keep his "bad guy" composure but it wasn't happening. Then he got the great idea of getting out of the ring to confront 1 Fan. Well, 1 Fan wasn't backing down. He started chasing WTWO in his motorized wheelchair. That thing was pretty damn fast. I had never laughed so hard in my life. WTWO slid around the floor, trying to outrun the wheelchair. He finally got back into the ring to safety. 1 Fan was awesome.

The match continued with heckling from 1 Fan, along with Papa. Papa got up a couple of times to step up to WTWO. He chased him to the back after the match was over. Between 1 Fan and Papa, I was happy to have paid my six bucks to get in.

Later on, WTWO came back out for another match. Sure enough, 1 Fan was back to his heckling ways. After the match was over and WTWO was pouting in the ring, 1 Fan yells "You need this!" and held up a baby bottle. WTWO got out of the ring and started walking back to the dressing room. 1 Fan started chasing him again around the ring, holding up that baby bottle.

That sealed the deal. I'm definitely coming back even if my bro doesn't wrestle.

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Kid Stories

Thinking back to growing up, I have realized lots of things have influenced the way I am.These are just a few tidbits into the life of The Saucinator.

4-H is supposed to be a fun club to be in. My bro and I were in 4-H all throughout elementary school. Every six weeks, there would be craft contests and we would usually win because our mom was handy with paint and stencils. Surely they didn't think a fifth grader made an apron by herself. And yes I still have it in my kitchen. Anyway, each year you chose a topics from a list of "How To" books. During my fifth grade year, my sixth- grader brother chose "How To Build Bicycles" because we rode our bikes for miles and miles. I chose "How To Raise Rabbits" because, well, we had rabbits. I was excited when my book arrived. Reading the first few pages, it told of how to build pens and how to properly feed the rabbits. Then all of a sudden, the chapter called "Cleaning Rabbits" came about. Horridly I looked at pictures of how to properly kill a rabbit by breaking it's neck, how to skin it and gut it, and how to treat the pelt and sell it. Thanks 4-H for those vivid pictures that still haunt me today. Hence no killing of small woodland creatures.

Visiting my grandparents was always fun. Mainly because my grandpa is crazy and because I could cuss around them both. My crazy grandpa used to call my house pretending to be a Indian called Skin Flynt who talked about a mysterious "thing" living under a bridge called RoHo. RoHo was like a troll of some sort that was the equivalent to the monster under your bed. At the same time during my life "The Hobbit" cartoon came out. I hated this cartoon with a passion because the lead character looked like Andre the Giant and he lived under a bridge..hence scary RoHo. Thanks Pop for my fear of hobbits to this day.

Growing up, my brother and I stayed a babysitter's while my mom worked. We fought constantly, making the sitter put us in separate rooms for the majority of the day. I would be in the kitchen while he sat in the living room.We tore the headliner out of her car once while she was visiting her grandkids as she left us in the car. We denied we did it. Whenever we did get to play together, he would always end up getting mad about something sneaky I did to get him in trouble. In order for him not to beat me up, I began "acting out" to make him laugh. He'd tell me to talk back to our elderly babysitter. He'd be cracking up while I was saying whatever he told me to say back to her. It didn't matter what it was. I'm sure I cussed her. Heck, I just didn't want to get beaten up. Thanks to my bro for the reason why I like to make people laugh...fear of getting beat up.

My grandma liked to fish. She would take all of us grandkids to the local private lake, bait our hooks, and watch us go to town catching brim (save when my brother caught a bass and she jumped on it in fear of the line breaking). We acted up constantly around her. Driving home on the dirt road, my brother and I would open the car door as she's going around the curve and pretend to fall out . We also had a wrestling match with cookie trays slammed on our heads and tricycles strewn about. I'm surprised we haven't killed the woman with our antics. I don't know how this really shaped me...but I'm sure it did somehow. I like fishing and wrestling my brother. However, I don't like falling out of cars.

2006...and stuff

The year of 2006 has brought me joy, sadness, excitement, physical pain, confusion, and lots of laughter. Here's a quick rundown of Saucy's 2006 (you can read about these stories in my blogs). The following pics are of my favorites and have been chose specifically for this purpose.

I've gone on plenty of trips this year, probably more than I should have given my current unemployed position. However, I say…if you become laid off…take a trip. I went to Sarasota, Florida where this lady was in my presence and attending the same wedding I did. Check out her ride.

Also, I went on a few trips with the Renegades for games. Panama City
where I danced atop Coyote Ugly, to Pensacola, to Pittsburgh for the championship game.

As for my casual traveling, I first went to Boston with my bud Kamio.
where
We saw a Red Sox game and had people follow us home from a club. Then I went on a road trip to El Paso, TX, back through Houston and New Orleans. After breaking the rental car, this pic was taken.

Lastly I went to Destin as a birthday present from my man. Here he is…or rather his bitch slap.

I've attended lots of parties and co-hosted a few. The first being my Slumber Party in which my lady friends attended. This picture says it all.

Also, my birthday party, themed "Come as a Straight Girl Party" was awesome. Here's a pic from that.

The Boob Voyage Party was a screamer….and here's the famous man from it now….

My brother's 30^th party was a pleaser. Not one but three pics come from this event. This guy was my favorite.

And my brother getting a lap dance from Stipper Joe was great.

And this person forgot their foot....

Also I've done a few things this year I've never done before. Like…go to Dumas Walker's Café and Saloon to see my brother wrestle in the most seedy of places (sorry no pics…awwwwww) and wrecking my car
.

I, along with my teammate Char, was interviewed for a documentary on Fantasy Football while we also attended Sidewalk Moving Picture Festival in B'ham (great time). My favorite had to be tossing a turkey for the chance to win 500. I came in second.

I also wrestled my brother, giving him a slap worth repeating. Here he is with Insane Lane who enjoys large breasts. FTW Rocks!

Soon after I speared my brother, I tore my MCL while playing a pre-season game with the Renegades. Also I went to two MLB games.

And for some reason, Patrick Swayze showed up a lot this year. Maybe I'll develop some sort of Swayze disinfectant to kill that fucker.

Dumas Walker's...and stuff

Last night I was invited to go with my brother (the wrestler) to Nashville to see him debut at a local wrestling organization. These events are real and the names and events are in fact real as well. I didn't realize I would blog about this until we pulled up into the parking lot.

My brother has been wrestling for maybe 6-7 years. He started off in a small town in TN. I'd frequently catch his show just to heckle him. There's nothing like yelling "Break his arm!" at family members wearing spandex and maneuvering under other spandex-clad schweddy guys. He's performed at several other small organizations throughout TN and northern AL. Recently he's been at Full Throttle Wrestling, my personal fav.

I have been wrestling (haha, get it?) a cold for a few days with the peak of it being yesterday...or last night...awesome!

So we venture to the northern side of Nashville to find some bar hosting this event. Surely I didn't hear my brother say a bar. I envision the scene in 'Blues Brothers' where patrons are throwing beer bottles at the band behind chicken wire until they sing the theme song to 'Rawhide.' I then told him he was about to wrestle in a chicken wire cage match. It was almost true.

Finally we come up to "Dumas Walkers Café and Saloon." I swear this is the name of it. Located between two seedy hotels off the interstate, I couldn't wait for the show. How can a café be a saloon? This was the question I pondered until...

We pulled into the parking lot to see a wrestling ring set up outside on the patio of this fine establishment. After gazing over the locals, I realized this one was going to be a story that I must tell for generations. The locals consist of very large women wearing short denim shorts and gentlemen wearing camo from head to toe. I'm not talking one type of camo, no no no, I'm talking light green camo on top with dark green camo on the bottom. Local favorite attire also consisted of the open short-sleeved button-up with the locks of their cascading mullet gently caressing their chests. Mmmmmmm. So sexual.

My brother meets up with the promoter and I'm stuck to myself. I walk up to see a bar outside with no cover charge. Awesome. Being sickly, I venture to the women's room located inside. I knew this was a four star "café and saloon" because of the Valentine's Day heart streamers neatly wrapped around the mirror located inside. Just enough of that special touch.

Outside I find a seat ringside. This wasn't hard as there were probably 25 seats set up. I got stares as I sat down near the end. I looked around and found no serenity in the heat. I sat there for probably 45 minutes, not saying a word. People filed in to sit. Small children were running amuck...in this café and saloon. One particular boy decided he was going to do flips off the rope to the ring. He was probably 9 or 10 and was landing these moves. My brother came out to hand the music to the dj and I signaled him to get his phone to get my text. I text him "aren't you glad you wore your camo?" as he had donned camo shorts. Probably 2/3 of the people had on camo. He replied "they are my fans." Watching shorty in the ring doing his moves I replied "Who invited Rey Mysterio?" At the same time I was texting he sent me one saying "619" (for all of you who are not wrestling savvy, the 619 is Rey's move). Yes, we do that sometimes.

I decided to go inside and get me some food. As I'm standing at the bar, some lady looking like a brunette Brett Butler walked up to me rather close saying something about her contact. She then popped out some fake black and white nails on a tray and said she'd sell them to me for fifty cents. Hmm. I turned them down. Then, as if by magic, she had a set of hoop earrings dangling from her left hand for one dollar. Again, I turned them down. Finally, a pair of jeans, one size up from me, was for sale for two dollars. I was tempted then as I could possibly wear these jeans around Thanksgiving or Christmas when I gain my holiday weight. I again turned her down. She got frustrated and said something about wanting money for cigarettes. Sorry Brett, I ain't having it.

So I get my Dixie cup-sized coke (out of a two liter) for a buck fifty. Mercy this was robbery, though there was no charge for the local wrestling. I skimped on the burger as I thought it would give Brett a chance to see me flash my cash.

Outside I grabbed a seat, along with the next-door hotel residents who pulled up their chairs outside of their rooms. Nobody told them it was free anyway.

First match happens. Usually the good/bad guys come from different dressing rooms, or from one centralized place (WWE). Well, this one, being classy and all, decides the good guys come from the bar inside and the bad guys come from...you guessed it...behind the building.

The first contestant is named "Shady Grady" and comes out to Paul Wall. His opponent comes out to some Slipnotastic song (which coincidently becomes almost everyone's theme music). Match starts in this very small ring with duct-taped turnbuckles. I have nothing against the mighty tape of the duct, but turnbuckles are supposed to be somewhat padded. The bell consisted of a guy yelling ding ding.

Shady and other guy "rassle". It's looking almost backyard wrestling to me. No moves, just clothes-lines and body punches. Oh dear, and there are both wearing tennis shoes. The mat is super-padded so it's a damn quiet match. Then the crowd gets involved yelling "Go Shady Go"...yes Shady..go.

Match is over and I'm overwhelmed by the lack of talent. One by one, each match consisted of the same thing. Young rasslers (one named Cooter and another named Heavy Metal) that can't do any moves. One particular match had several coming from the back and beating up the guys in the ring. One guy almost breaks anothers neck by over-rotating his legs, leaving him to land on his head. Not good. I find out later my brother got onto these guys for this move. They answered back "We did it to look better." Yeah, ok. Their belts looked like ones you can get off the net, donning mailbox stickers saying Tag Team or NCW.

As I sit in the smokey heat, I am having problems breathing. Awesome, I can't wait to have a continuous headache!!!

I venture back into the café to order a burger and onion rings for $6.50 and to get a refill on my Dixie cup. Finally I hear my brother on the mic.

His match was the best one. He and his opponent actually did moves...like hip tosses. These aren't hard moves to do but no one else did any of that. He gets the crowd riled up and I get in some heckling. Match is over and he's been beat. YAY I'm ready to go.

Waiting out near the truck, I see Brett and her pimps waiting out by their car. She goes back up to the café and saloon to solicit more things like cowboy boots. Her pimps just wait at the car for her return for cigarette money. I watch carefully, making sure they were not going to try to pimp me. They all load up in their car and head out.

Brother finally gets to leave and we say so long to the café and saloon. On the road up ahead is Brett, standing along the street, looking for a date. She must really be needing those cigarettes.

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Mom's Neighbors

My mom has the goofiest neighbors. No matter who moves in across the street, either in the trailer or the house, whoever they are...they are complete idiots.

I remember when the trailer first landed on the property across the street. A nice guy lived there. Turned out he was a cocaine dealer who drowned kittens. Not so nice now.

The previous family in the white house consisted of a mother (a former stripper) with her five sons with different last names, ranging of ages 10-19. You could hear her yelling at them constantly. As the police investigated calls regularly, I became stealth in my ways to see what is going on. Mom would have me belly-crawl to the bushes to see what I could hear. Maybe I missed my calling. Sure wearing all black helps.Sadly they moved out and the police blotter has decreased.

Recently a new family has moved into the trailer. A husband and wife who constantly come over to see my mother. My mom isn't bed-ridden or in poor health or anything...she's rather busy. They come bearing gifts, such as spaghetti or the newspaper. It's a constant bother for her to entertain and listen to these people. The husband is jobless, yet gets tattoos nearly every week. The wife just got fired from her job for not showing up...not the best of people to befriend my crazy mother. Needless to say, they have become "friends" whether my mom likes it or not.

Usually I leave the room when I see them making their way across the street. Last night, however, they snuck up on me.

Enter hubby and wife. The husband, who's waist is probably a 26 and who's speaking voice is that of Helen Keller, sits down next to me on the sofa. His wife gets the comfy chair that is my usual resting place. She's the loud mouth. Constantly arguing, this couple makes me want to put an end to all of our lives. Slowly.

Of course wifey has to tell my mother some gossip about her family (in which my mother knows no one). Something along the fact of her brother, the alchoholic, was put in the hospital the night before with a blood alchohol level of 10. Yes 10. My mom, being the brains of my family, asks "Are you sure it wasn't point something...like point 8?" No, 10.

People like this piss me off. Dumb idiots who don't know common sense and think they know what they are talking about. This is why I should have left the room.

10.

After they left, we had the usual conversation. "They are complete idiots."