The Night the Lights went out in Nashville...and other stuff

This past weekend started off with a monumental happening: Char actually gave my cd back that she has held hostage for almost three years! Granted I did give her another cd to borrow...we'll see what happens. THANKS!

As you may or may not know, I along with other teammates of mine as well as players from other teams, ventured to Nashville this past weekend to watch the National Women's Football Association's Championship game. Last year, this game was in Pittsburgh. I blogged about it, it's in my archives. No, this one did not have a soundtrack included. I did not get pulled over by police and I did not partake in finding porn...this time.

Last year only three Renegades made it to the big game. This year, we answered the call bringing roughly 15. We didn't bring a football, however, because...well...because instead we had softball equipment. Go figure :)

Prior to reaching our hotel (thanks Carly), we migrated to Academy Sports, cautiously avoiding small woodland creatures who find pleasure in making caravans of women football players brake ever so rapidly to avoid plastering their precious furry heads into the construction-infested highways of Tennessee.

I hate run-on sentences. And I purchased purple shorts. Word.

Checked into hotel and went next door to Wendy's with Char, Jen, and Sarah. For some unknown reason, Wendy's had their entire workforce there...20 or so "workers" though I doubt they did much "work". My favorite was the "worker" who didn't do what her manager asked because "it's hot next to the fryer". It was as if the entire place ran in slow motion. I swore even the flies were fluttering about a little slower than usual.

After stopping for chinese food and coffee, we were all on our way to the game. The field is on the north end of Nashville, home of absolutely nothing. The closest hotel was the Super 8 (thanks again Carly). We pull up and get situated...ready to tailgate. Only one problem, we didn't bring any chairs and had only one tailgate to "tailgate" with. So we venture to the surrounding fans. We make friends with Columbus fans. One *pretty gay guy per Dana* in particular said we had "funny accents". Hello Pot, this is Kettle. He was our buddy all night.

Seeing teams from Ft. Wayne, St. Louis and others caught my eye. I met my message board friends and tried to barter for t-shirts while my teammates practiced their softball and the Mexicans played soccer in the field next to them.

We reached the stadium, ready for the game. We decide to sit on the Columbus side, along with teams from Mass., New Orleans, Phoenix, and Erie (the drunks who show up EVERY year...hilarious). New Orleans was pretty drunk as well, constantly yelling "Pass it to 15. Run a post!"

At halftime, the power decided to go out. After puns about Pensacola not being there and singing "This Little Light of Mine", it finally came on. We took pictures in the dark and some came out decent. It was also said that we should pull all of our trucks up to the field for lights in case it never came on. Yes, we are in God's country.

After the game, we all went to a place called Caberet 2 (so I'm guessing there's a 1 somewhere in Nashville). Inside are walls aligned with drag queen pictures. Fabulous. I get to the dance floor and proceed to "cut a rug". After a few songs, I realized I needed hydration or I was going to fall on my face and become coma-lized due to lack of sugar. Thanks Dana for noticing this.

I re-enter the dancefloor and maybe saw a pole. I doubt I went up there and danced but people say I did. Ok, maybe a little.

Finally the drag show started. I realized I could be a drag queen for Halloween. If I had a tiger costume with a wig, I could definitely be the dude who came out to the Lion King's music. He was rotund...and I'm rotund. He had no ass...and I have no ass. Perfect. Others came and went. Finally the show was over. Back to the dance floor.Other teams had filtered in by then. People who don't dance, danced all night (*ahem* Sarah).

At some point, Purple Rain came on. The stage (where the pole happened to be) had been rigged to rain. It was tempting to get up there because again, I needed hydration. However, I declined. My teammate, however, found it necessary to get on stage sans t-shirt with the other whores up there.

At the end of the night, 4am, Jack in da Box sounded good. Nothing like eating chicken before you go to bed. The only problem I had was waking up early to head home.

It's Tuesday and I'm still tired. Next year, we'll still take a trip to wherever this game is held. Hopefully I'll bring a chair next time.

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This past weekend I move out of my lame-ass apartment complex into a lame-ass convenant community. I guess it's going up the ladder. What sucked is this was during the first weekend of football season. Not only did I miss the first game...I also missed my buds moving help. My father and another almost died of heat exhaustion moving my king size mattress up some stairs...but it's up there.

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My brother is in a "Flaming Tables" match tonight. I won't be there as I am still moving stuff out of aforementioned lame-ass apartment. I am sure I'll get the full recap tomorrow morning...or mid-morning.

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I went to Career Day with two other Renegades last week: a pest control tech (big ups Dana!) and a probation officer (thanks Tricia). I had my own room to speak to five classes in 30 minute increments. Dana and Tricia shared their room. There's something hard about explaining a complex job to first graders. I brought material samples to show them what I do/work on...each class thought I brought them credit cards. The fifth graders were not very happy to be there and were not open to my wit and sarcasm.

Too bad I wasn't in the other room. I heard that one kid said "My brother has a probation officer. She a white lady. She nice." while another commented "Are you the popo for real?" as his friend said "Shhh..you not supposed to call them that to they face."

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I was recently asked to pick up breakfast one morning from Hardeezzzzzzzzzzz. Hardeezzzzzzzzzz is located along the strip of fast-food chains..sitting between Arby's and McDs. My cohort had asked for a cinnamon raisin biscuit. Just getting up out of bed, I drove the few short miles for the buttermilk goodness of Hardeezzzzzzzzz. This establishment is one the left hand side of the road, across a median. So I pulled a U and drove to the drive thru. I didn't see the cinnamon raisin biscuit on the menu, however I was sure something "cinnamon" was on it...I was hardly awake. I ordered my sausage and biscuit combo and asked for a cinnamon biscuit. Through the garbled speech I heard "We don't have any...we have cinnamon blasts" Alright, give me two. Surely this is what my cohort was speaking of.

I pull up to the window and pay. While I awaited my food, I noticed the job posting on the window. I was a little puzzled by the website address as it said nothing about Hardeezzzzz...I thought maybe it was a coporate address.

I speed off and end at my destination, slurping on my Dr. Pepper. I grabbed the bag and went inside of the house where I find my partner saying "So you went to McDonald's instead,eh?" No. He then pointed out "Well, you have a McDonald's bag and you are drinking from a McDonald's cup...so you must have beent to McDonald's." I argued that I went to Hardeezzzzzz and they must have ran out of their cups and bags...so McDonald's supplied them some extra. Then I looked at my receipt...sure enough...McDonald's.

I had passed the playground...stared at the menu...even saw the mcjobs website...and I swore I was at Hardeezzzzzzzz...

This should tell you people not to wake me up early and expect me to be aware of what I am doing before 8am...oh wait...it was 8.

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2006 Championship game blog (yes I moved it)

or all who were under a rock this weekend, the National Women's Football Association had their championship game in Pittsburgh, PA Saturday night. Being the dedicated player I am, I travelled with some teammates to witness the game between the DC Divas and the OK City Lightning. I decided I would include a soundtrack to this story, for the full effect.

Started out leaving rather late Friday night for the eleven hour haul. We have a tendancy to travel into the wee hours which has it's challenges such as gas stations not being open at 4:30 am and hallucinations that the Cincinnati Reds baseball stadium is hosting a game at 3:30 am. Sweet tarts should be illegal.

The soundtrack starts with hitting Nashville around 11pm Friday night.

Wild Night - Van Morrison. We knew we were in for a long one but with my company, it would no doubt be fun.

Then it happened....

Radar Love - Golden Earring. Saucy gets a speeding ticket and pisses off the cop. So I pulled over to the left side of a four lane interstate. He didn't have to mouth off to me. I was pleasant if not really sweet. He informed me I can take my traffic school online now rather than pay my ticket and get 9 points on my record (unblemished one at that). He then says "Be careful and pay attention. There are signs everywhere that it's 55 around here." Sorry to keep up with the traffic sir. I was tempted to use "F* The Police" for this song by the way.

So after that...

Slow Ride - Foghat. I'm going slower now, thanks.

Back to the conversation. My buddy Char informs all of her father's brothers, including himself, are named Joe...well Joseph. They all go by their middle names. This is hilarious to me as I picture a house of 9 Joe's. She tells tales of Leather Joe, Butterknife Joe, etc.. Hence..

Walkaway Joe - Trisha Yearwood (which came on the radio a few times...ironical!! haha)

At this point, around 2 am, we are all giddy and hyped up on caffiene. Char then mentions her Unlce Joseph Munford. Being French-Canadian, Char pulls out the French version of his name...Mon Unc Munford..which sounds like a deaf person saying something like "mo'fo". We crack up for a long time with this one...leading to...

Voulez-Vous Couchez Avec Moi, C'est Soir - Patty Labelle. Sure it's really called Lady Marmalade but it's the only french song I know.

We hit Cincinnati and decide to get a room (not a bowtie,thanks). We tried to sleep for a few hours but to no avail. We left after roughly 5 hours. Thanks Quality Inn for boarding us next to a tire-changing place that opens early on Saturday morning! We leave in our pajamas...which means...

I Like My Women Just a Little On The Trashy Side - Confederate Railroad

Four hours later, we are finally in Pittsburgh. The drive was pretty and slow. Seriously, 55 mph speed limit on the interstate..geez.

We get there just in time to shower and head over to the pre-party. We were told this was to be at a roadhouse. I, picturing the lovely-coifed Swayze and cowboy boots, stroll in with my posse to see a fairly clean and decent pub. These yankees don't know the meaning of a roadhouse. We met some players from the Pittsburgh Passion and had a some great food.

There's a Tear In My Beer - Hank Williams Sr. - Cohorts of mine downed six beers in an hour and were happy to head over to the game feeling fine.

We get to the game to see some tailgaters. One in particular asked what team we were with. We said Alabama. We returned the question to the drunk girl and she answered "I don't know". Sweet.Drunk people are fun!!

There were teams from the north at the game. We were getting stares and comments like "Alabama? Wow!". I guess they thought we wouldn't make the trek up there. Don't they know who we are? Don't they know we will travel at a moments notice?

The game was fun. We met some players from other teams and I met some of my message board buddies. The most amazing part was people were bringing in liquor to this high school stadium. I'm talking coolers full of beer and liquor. Damn, we missed out on this opportunity.

The game featured songs during time-outs, so I must include them here.

Urgent - Foreigner. I somehow thought the song was titled "Murder". This song played when there was an injury.

Everybody Dance Now - C&C Music Factory (during which I did my best SNL cheerleader dance moves)

In The Navy - The Villiage People (I have no idea why this was played)

Girls Just Want To Have Fun - Cyndi Lauper Evidently this was from an 80s collection cd

We skipped the after-party to go catch some much needed sleep. We had to leave out early to return the following day.

Sunday morning, we headed back. Char, being the fast one, drove the majority of the way, making excellent time. I got behind the wheel somewhere in KY. Somehow we ended up and at Adult Bookstore, thanks to Char's eyesight.

Now, this is where it's funny. Sure it’s a bookstore, but as Char puts it "The front says book store but the book section is tiny while the video section is huuuge." Yes, that's how they trap you in. We gander around, gawking and making jokes.

On the way home, as I'm driving through Bowling Green, I had to set the cruise control because my buddy brought a DVD player. We decided to watch one of the purchased videos in the car just because we could. So, leaving it up to you, the song most appropriate for this was ...

Take It Like A Man - Suzy Bogguss

Got home around 6pm and was ready for bed. Had a fun trip but a little tired today. Hopefully the game next year will be closer but if not, I'm sure we'll drive wherever it is!

Rage Against the Machine...and stuff

Recently my best good friend Shannon and I frolicked to our favorite local mall establishment.She lives roughly 2 hours away so whenever we see each other, we tend to go to the local mall, be it in Nashville or in Huntsville. Granted, Nashville's malls are waaay better but I digress...

Shannon and I have a tendency to get our pictures taken in those photo/sticker booths. We have many many memories of doing this along with the evidence that your tongue does not grow past age 14. The price has also increased along with the payment options. I remember trying to find two straight dollar bills that weren't rejected by the dollar-bill-eater. Other than that, we never had any problems...until...

We come upon "Foto-Cube" (FC). FC is a new concept wherein four pictures are taken and laid out so you may fold ends to make a cube. Whoever at FC thought four sides made a cube is a complete idiot. Anyway, Shannon and I got the idea to get ours done. We sit down inside of the booth. Five bucks!! What? And you may use your credit card for payment. Ok, we are grown ass women. I can spare five bucks.

Payment made. Now it's time to choose your border. Border? What happened to just those blue or red curtains? We picked our "Hotties" border, complete with flames. Next is taking the pictures. There's the usual tongue one,goofy face, etc. While you are making these faces, the video of you is playing outside for the mall walkers to see. We don't fret.

While the FC is being developed (3 minutes), trivia questions are asked on the screen. Whoever thought of these questions must have been the bright one who said four sides made a cube. These questions were about movies no one probably saw twenty years ago. Who exactly is the target audience for FC?

Ah, three minutes is up as I see our FC spit out at the bottom printer hole(there are three).I reached down to grab it and enjoy our FC with my best good friend. But no. Before I could touch it, it was sucked up back into the FC. DAMN YOU FC! DAMN YOU!

I then get on my knees to see where our precious FC ran off to. It's stuck in the printer, inches away from my fingers. DAMN YOU FC FINGER GUARDS! Shannon and I are helpless...until..

Shannon calls the 1-800 number listed on the FC. We didn't think there would be an on-call technician or anything. Shannon finally got a customer service rep. (I'm still on my knees cussing the FC). The Rep advised Shannon to "beat above the printer hole like you would do a door." What kind of door? Wooden, glass, steel???? There's so much difference! I beat it and beat it some more. Shannon, who btw is three mos. pregnant, gets on her knees now (we joked that this is what got her pregnant in the first place) and beats with me. Nadda. Our memory is trapped. The Rep then tells Shannon she will send her a refund.Thanks Rep Lady but that doesn't even come close to the price of our memory.

We are not defeated though we were sad. Then we had the bright idea of waiting until another person used the FC and see if the printer they printed to was ours...possibly getting ours loose. So yes, we stalked the FC. After a few minutes, a couple of teenagers went in.They paid and took their pictures. YES! We were excited about getting our memory out of the damned FC. After three minutes, their FC spits out...of the top printer. They enjoy their memory while Shannon and I are pissed. We go back to beat on it some more, taking out our frustrations. Why oh why Foto-Cube would you give them happy memories???

After a while, we decide to continue our shopping and come back. Maybe our luck would change. I keep looking back as I walk away...away from our memory. We returned shortly to find the same two teenagers on the floor in front of the FC waiting on another one. They were playing with the properly folded cube, tossing it in the air, as if to taunt us with their Foto-Cube. Sure enough, their second cube popped out and they folded it and showboated their luck. Damn bitches.

Shannon and I were distressed. We didn't know what to do. We decided to kick it some more, getting our frustrations out. We raged. Against the machine. Back on our knees we tried to reach it to no avail.

F it. We decide to get another made. Maybe it will not eat this one. We get in and I pay with a credit card. "Not able to transmit." WTF? Shannon tries hers..same thing. The FC gods are laughing at us. Maybe it's fate. F fate. I had another five dollar bill. Haha to you FC gods.

It takes, we take pictures. One is of us shooting the bird to the FC...we hate the FC now. Three minutes later....BAM, the FC spits out our first pictures!! Shannon grabs them quickly. After that our new FC comes out. We have won. We have beaten the machine. I laugh at you FC gods. We never gave up.

So the moral of the story is...beat on it, stalk it, leave it, come back to it, beat it again, and eventually you'll get what you want.

Good times.

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."

Birthday party...and stuff

I've been thinking about something recently. Perhaps only since lunch because I had slow-ass service at Buffalo's with Char. If I ever become un-straight, I have a checklist of characteristics my "ladymate" would have. (And yes, I know of the misspellings and bad grammar.)

1. She best not be easily embarrassed. I ain't havin' no lady who runs away from fun times...FUN TIMES...with me and my friends.

2. She better not be skinnier than me. She best be my size. I want to be able to share clothes. That's doubling my wardrobe!

3. She better not have an ass. I don't and she ain't gonna be stretchin' my clothes out.

4. She better not be no alcoholic. I can't afford it and it's just tacky dating a girl everyone talks about being an alcoholic.

5. She better like sports. I ain't hangin' with no woman who can't watch college football ,who can't throw a curve ball, or who don't 'WOOO' when some wrestler gets chopped.

6. She better like doin' dirty work. I ain't havin' no prissy woman who doesn't like gettin' dirty.

7. She better not be no crackhead. Again, I ain't datin' no woman everybody will make fun of. Plus that'll make her skinnier than me and that violates rule 2 but not 3.

8. She better have a job. I ain't datin' no mooch.

9. She better know how to cook a pot pie and know when to bring it to me. I ain't gonna be the only cook in this relationship.

10. She best not have jacked up teeth. I ain't havin' no woman with a battle of epic proportions in her pie hole.

11. She best not be a hooker. I can't deal with skanky bitches.

12. She better not be no damn Florida fan. Everyone hates Florida and I ain't datin' no Florida lover.

13. She better not be a faster runner than me. I ain't havin' it.

14. She better know how to clog. I ain't dancin' by myself on the Coyote Ugly bar...then again, I might.

15. She better drive a truck, and not a damn foreign one. I got stuff to haul.

16. She better know how to move a person. If she don't know how to stack stuff right and how to move a double recliner couch down some stairs...we gotta problem.

17. She best not be trying to wear my shoes. Saucy's shoes are her babies. I don't need no lady tryin' to cop my Steve Madden's.

18. She best be likin' to travel. I can go anywhere at anytime and she should too.

19. She best not have a beard. I ain't bein' made fun of. Mustaches are ok though.

20. She best have some smarts about her. I ain't datin' someone who doesn't know who the vice-president is. Or how to use an oven to cook my pot pie.

21. She best not be too smart. I ain't gonna be talkin' about no Fibonacci sequences or no non-eclidean geometries. That's what my freinds are for.

22. She best not have no limp. I ain't datin' no gimps...unless she hurt it playin' sports.

23. She best not be no huntin' type. I can't stand killin' small woodland creatures.

24. She best not be no smoker. The only smokin' I tolerate is Boston Butt.

These are just a few should I ever become a Klondike bar eater...

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Last night I went to see 'Snakes On A Plane'. Why you ask? Good question. Maybe becaues I enjoy snakes attacking people. Or I like planes with animals running amuk. Then I thought maybe it was love story about male porno stars getting it on. Perhaps Carly can chime in if she has this particular video already. You know she likes some trouser snakes...but only on video.

The buildup to this movie by the media has been interesting. The fact that the name of the movie gave the entire thing away behooves me. However, the question is "Will this be a cult classic?" It's possible. I'm sure it will win many accolades.

I'm not going to give the movie away (THERE ARE SNAKES ON A PLANE!) but I'll give you my review.

You know the snakes are coming at some point. You brace yourself for when they attack. It was a little unbelieveable but freakin' hilarious to me (my counter disagrees and said I was scared). I mean, come on. Do you think "No Shoulders" can put it's mouth around an entire human being's head? Even my un-hinge-ability isn't that grand.

I walked away from this movie with a faster heartbeat than when I came in. There were lots of startling scenes and lots of "wow, yeah, glad I ate before the movie" scenes. Some will no doubt be replicated by SNL or MAD Tv...or even God forbid the MTV Movie awards.

Samuel L. Jackson (not to be confused with Samuel P. Jackson, the roofing contractor in Maryland) played his usual kick-ass-Chuck-Norris-style Shafty role. He never plays a wimp. He did fairly well considering THERE WERE SNAKES ON A PLANE.

All in all, it was worthy of seeing in a theatre. I would recommend it being in 3D. And that you eat afterwards.

Hopefully I didn't give too much away (THERE ARE SNAKES ON A PLANE). I really hope this is just one of the many "_________ on a Plane" movies. The following is a list of the ones I hope to see.

Billy Goats On A Plane

Weaves On A Plane

Midgets On A Plane

Penis On A Plane

and the ever favorite in the Middle East...

Bhurkas (Gone Wild) On A Plane

What do you want to see on a plane? Let me know.

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Well folks, I celebrated my birthday in style this past weekend. Thanks to everyone for the birthday wishes and the presents! I love me some presents! And cake. Fat girl's gotta eat.

Cat and I share our birthday so we decided to throw our own party. Since I love themes, we decided on a "Come as a Straight Girl" party, where you dress up as your opposite orientation. Since I'm straight and narrow, I had to dress up crooked (per Char's vocabulary).

Now I had been pondering what to dress up as and how to dress up. At first, I thought about dressing up as my football buddy Dana with her "tacky yet totally refined" shirts she wears and some cargo shorts. Dana was unable to make the party as she was too busy eating dogs in Korea. Then I debated on dressing up as a boy. One with glow sticks, a flashy shirt, and wrist bands. Then I realized my boobs were WAY to large for that. If I had taped them down, people wouldn't know who I was.

Then I get my email from Catherine, my favorite ginger. She's decided to dress as ME. Then the wheels started turning. I decided to go as my favorite sideline videographer...Ms. Catherine The Great herself. Here's a lovely pic of the lady..

Usually, she wears her utilitairan look out to the games. Mostly a cowboy hat (to block the sun), cargos with deep pockets for things, and a tank top, preferabbly green or black. So, I bought me a wig, shorts, and found my Velma glasses....

I let Cat borrow my practice jersey so she donned it, a doo rag, slutty tank and ugly shoes to complete the "Saucy" look. In pic is me, Carlito, and Cat. Notice Carlito's skirt...borrowed from her sister whom we call "Sister". That night, however, she was Sam (in the green). Sam carried a pocket knife, chapstick and a wallet.

As the guests started showing up, I found myself double over laughing so hard at outfit choices. My favorite had to be my buddy Char who was known as "Vonda" that night. Vonda had a husband, Earl, who was at the races..and she was a lady. Oh what a lady she was. Thanks to Sister "Sam" for doing her make-up because it's been a while since Char has put on her face.

Now here's a pic of the lovely Chara before (number 92)...

So look out, here comes Vonda after ...notice her nails :)

And also notice how Carlito is in a lot of my photos.

Other "characters" for the night included Sandy (Kerby) and Britney (Marty). In this pic, Sandy shows that she really does like the penis pinata.

Britney cooked some out-of-this-world food and tolerated wearing my skirt. I told her she's going to have to eat more if she's going to be wearing my clothes. She's our running back and you know those girls are small.

Sandy had hair and make-up (courtesy of Sam again) and carried a purse. All of the "ladies" carried a purse that night.

Other couples of interest that night included Aric and Amanda and Taylor and Lee. Sorry I don't have your pics up yet.

One of my favorite people in the world is Cally (forgive me if I spelled it wrong). I met her recently and found out she makes me laugh so hard. She's the other "token" among our buddies so she's my straight girlfriend. She came to the party in painted over-alls. Evidently lesbians are great house painters. I had no clue. So here she is with the birthday girls.

Later on that night we played poker. Cally and I put on our poker mustaches and played characters. Of course she was Louigi from Super Mario Bros...freakin' hilarious. I wore multiple mustaches at the same time. Maybe it was the rum and coke, I have no idea. I played poker for a few hours on ten bucks. And it was my second time playing. I think my mustache, sunglasses and cowboy hat worked. I'll put that pic up sometime soon...maybe...

All in all it was a blast. Sorry you missed it. Maybe our next party will be a different theme, though secretly I think these girls liked putting on make-up and carrying purses. Thanks for the pics Char.

Slumber Party...and stuff

Friday night, I invited all of the women I know (except any family members) to my Slumber Party. This wasnt your typical slumber party with eating, laughing, talking about boys, and prancing around in our underwear...wait a minute...yes it was. The only difference was items of an adult nature were sold. And the underwear vibrated. A professional consultant came to my humble abode and proceeded to enrich the lives of fourteen lucky women.

Let me start at the beginning. For all of you readers of my blog, you may remember the saleslady I accidentally hit in the head with a double-headed dildo. Yes, I finally booked my party with her. The theme to my party was sports; everyone was to come in some sporting garb. I, being Cheerleader, donned my Spartan Cheerleader outfit (Go Team). My place was festooned with football, baseball, NASCAR, and golf decorations. Yes, festooned. Soccer was not involved as I believe soccer is the devil. Finger foods were plentiful. And it was BYOB. Mercy was it ever...

My lady friends proceeded to show up, wearing football jerseys, golf attire, basketball outfits, and bandannas. Gotta love the sporty bandanna look ;)

As the food was being grazed and the alcohol and/or non-alcoholic drinks flowed, we all sat around, waiting for the BIG SHOW (no, not the wrestler). Professional Romance Enhancer Lady (PREL) proceeded to start the show off with small items such as key chains, kitty masks, playing cards (which she thought she was never getting back), and sensual oils. Everyone oohed and aaahed. There were some instruction books that were surprisingly not passed around when it got to certain people. This certain person read and read and read about *ahem* personal intimacy.

As the night continued, we took a brief intermission (no CC, there was not any music by Milli Vanilli being played much like your wrestling show). Everyone took in more and more food (pigs in a blanket, cheese tray, ham/turkey tray, cookies, chips/dip, etc)

As we returned, we had a game to play. The PREL picked Chara out of the group to come up in front of everyone. Chara, being the Mich Ultra drinker, had turned into Opie (her drinking alter-ego that wears blue checkered shirts and bears resemblance to Sheriff Andy Taylors sweet sweet son). She happily obliged. I had to chose her cohort to join her. Me, being the nice one of the bunch, picked Mich Ultra drinker Carly to help Chara with this game. Then the PREL asked the both of them to pick partners. Me being the Sauce, Chara scoops me up for her partner. Carla picked tan Deb to join her. What happens next is pure comedy.

Chara and Carly were both given condoms to unwrap and blow up. They looked puzzled at this challenge. Being the mechanical engineer, I stepped up and showed them how it was done. The prophylactics were soon filled with air and tied off. The two were then told to put this hot air balloon down their shorts. Deb and I laughed until we were told to bend over...yes, bend with a bum knee. The object of the game is to pop the condom/balloon by bumping uglies. So, me being the competitive one, bent over while my hips were grabbed to force the condom to pop.

This was harder than expected. Lots of adjusting of the junk took place. I even fell over once from all of the force. Dont worry, my knee is ok. Finally, Deb and Carly switched and in one quick move...BOOM. Deb and Carly were the winners.

After my head stopped hurting from all of laughing, we proceeded to witness the big fake penises being shown and passed around. Lots of buttons, beading, animal-like shapes, and vibrations were strewn about.

After the finale, PREL also talks about the vibrating underwear she has for sale. One of my teammates pulled them over her shorts and after one button was pushed, she doubled over laughing. Another teammate, we'll refer to her as Tiger, was reluctant to wear these until peer pressure made her give in.

All in all, this was one of the best times Ive ever had with my lady friends. We learned a lot about each other. I learned one can suck the jelly out of a donut, some dont know how to unwrap condoms, and also some new dating rules Ive never heard before. Ill probably have another Slumber Party this year. I made $80 this time being a hostess, who knows how much Ill make next time.

Devil's Rejects...and stuff

ust know as I type this, my cat is in heat. She knows what's up.

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Friday night, as previously noted, my female cohort and I ventured to what is known as a "Slumber Party" at the home of my brother and sister-in-law's. For all who don't know, basically a party of this nature is for ladies only and consists of the sale of not only novelty marital aids, but also gag gifts (no pun intended, I swear), lotions, books, ointments of such, keychains, whips, swings...you get the drift. Usually a large group of women sit around and listen to a saleslady (Silicon Saleslady) hock her junk (not "her" junk, specifically, cause that would fall in the line of soliciation). We play games, talk openly about what we like and dislike in the bedroom or kitchen or wherever we decide to procreate, lick our hands, apply lotions to our lips, smell lubes and make fun of each other.

I've been to these parties before and have been known to host a couple. I even got my nickname from this Saucy Lady-type party. My first one was thrown by my father's girlfriend. I was never more uncomfortable in my life as she talked about him and what he likes.Ewww...

So sidekick and I frolick to the hills of TN to buy more junk. I didn't need anything; I sure wasn't "running out" of anything, but it's always fun to go see reactions and generally have fun with other women. We get there and the saleslady is running late. Great, I 'll just drink some liquor my sis-in-law has provided me. Oh, and it seriously is a slumber party...we were supposed to come in our pj's but no one told me or my sidekick. There's something strange about seeing grown women you don't know in their raggedy-ass sleepwear eating heart shaped ham sandwiches. But back to the lecture at hand...

Saleslady finally showed, leaving a few of us girls to help her carry her load o' goodies inside. She comes with everything (table, tool boxes of batteries, tupperware bins of stuff) and no helper. I don't mind that it's raining hard, on a hill, in mud, to carry such items as I know I am in for a treat. I know this particular lady and I am excited to remind her of me. She appeases my esteem by faking like she remembers me. I like this.

Inside, hullabaloo ensues. She sets up her table while we eat our food and drink more liquor. Good times...good times. She decides to throw a huge double headed marital aid onto the floor for some quick laughter. This is used for an icebreaker game later...no we don't use them on each other...ewwww. Me being Saucy, I pick it up and attempt to swing it over my shoulders to say "hey, I'm going to the bedroom for a little while, I'll be back hahahahaha". As I toss this sucker over my shoulder, saleslady SOMEHOW puts her face right in the way. I mean, c'mon...she should have seen this ginormous penis coming towards her...but no. WAPOW! Right in the jaw. She's startled and I feel bad. Somehow I think she deserves it for being in the way and screwing up my joke and I stop feeling bad. Damn lady. I bet that wasn't a first for her.

She starts the show and I grow bored as I have sat through the same schpeel many times. I even throw in a few pointers myself as to remind her who she was dealing with...Ms. Saucy.

After the show, everyone makes their purchases and the crowd parts ways. On the drive home, buddy and I discuss ways to become our own salesmen as we know these products inside and out. Then we realized that we like having nights off and like not travelling to strange people's homes.

FYI, I will be hosting one of these parties within a month or so. Ladies make your way.

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Saturday was football practice. Something about five people showing up doesn't sound like practice to me. We ran one lap around the park and called it a day. Yes, I was tired.

That night I watched Rob Zombie's " The Devils Rejects"...pretty good movie. I'm just happy I ordered the pizza afterwards. Another movie called "The Chumbscrubber" was horrible. Don't rent a movie you cannot pronouce fyi.

Snowball fight also ensued as I had a cheap shot. I wasn't aiming there I promise. Sorry Sir.

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On another note...the WWE had a house show here today. I had tickets to go with my brother. This morning, I had the pleasure of eating breakfast with someone at the Waffle House.In walks Coach. As he enters, Dean Freakin' Malenko walks out. Dean Freakin' Malenko! Only one of my top five wrestlers of all time. I'm freaking out a little and try to call my brother who doesn't answer. Damn. Then after a while, I realize Carlito is eating breakfast with Coach. Three WWE wrestlers....in Waffle House with Saucy. Damn. After they left, I kept waiting on someone like Triple H to enter but sadly he didn't. Oh well...we went to the show and Rob Van Damm was outside talking to people. Wuzzup RVD. ECW!

The show was pretty good. Our seats were along the aisle where the wrestlers came out so we smacked hands with most of them (sorry Todd). The highlight had to be seeing the asses of Triple H and Edge as they were running around the ring trying to hold up their pants. I didn't realize they were so funny.

So now I'm going to apply for a job at the Waffle House and sell novelty items in the back...come on out.

Fat people in Wal-mart scooters...and stuff

Saucy had an exhibition football game to attend Saturday (April Fool's Day of all days). Now I haven't played in over a year due to sitting out last season. This year, I have been tasked to play right guard next to Chara. We've had some good practices and went to play this game with...ooohhh....21 players. Don't worry, two of them showed up at halftime.

I'm psyched to play, nervous since Monday. I've read my playbook and have eaten well before our Saturday night brawl. Pasta is a favorite on Friday nights for me, especially before a game. So I ate some damn good food at Carrabas. Damn good.

Anyway, our game is going fairly well. We are up against a team known to play a hard and have probably 35 or so players. Their linemen are pretty huge, like are two of me. I lined up and moved them though. Or at least prevented them from eating my arm...they looked hungry. It's pretty hot outside but I've hydrated (wohoooooo).

Half-time comes and it's a scoreless ballgame. We have moved the ball down the field but haven't converted. They haven't even gotten close to a touchdown. Our defense was awesome. Oh yeah, I also went in and played a couple of defensive plays cause I was needed.

After the half, we were doing well. I was put in as defensive tackle. In comes the other teams big girls. Our team knows what's coming as we've seen this play before. We call a special play designed for this particular set. I get on my knees and get ready. Their big girl, number 66 (whom I've been up against on offense all night) lines up across from me. She's probably 5'10 and 250lbs. So big girl gets down and I get lower. The ball is snapped.

Slow motion......

I remember her and another fatso coming my way; I see the ball carier...I go to reach for her then SNAP, CRACKLE, POP goes my knee. Immediately after is POP POP POP for my ankle. I start screaming like the little girl I am.I yell for them to get off of me and I roll over on my side, tears a flowin'. Quasimodo and her merry men had lifted me up and shoved me backwards (almost like a backbend) and landed on me causing my knee and ankle to carry their massive, massive weight. I hear "Trainer!! Trainer!!" as the other team's trainer comes over. Some teammates gather around and help me.

I get to the sideline after being clapped off (I wondered if the girl got the first down). The trainer (who I thought was just as knowledgeable about knees as...say...The Hamburglar) poked and prodded around to see where I was hurting. My knee didn't hurt so bad but my ankle was jacked. I've had jacked ankles before and I know jacked when I feel jacked. This was jacked. My knee couldn't be straightened. The Hamburglar diagnosed me as having a high ankle sprain and possibly a sprained knee. Thanks Hamburlgar...now go find Grimace.

I sit and watch my team do well, preventing the other team from scoring. I have ice on my ankle and I'm freezing...damn mountain climate! Finally the game ends and it's scoreless. It's just an exhibition game...no need in potentially hurting others. I get carried off the field by my mates. They are so damn awesome. Then we go to Ruby Tuesday's where I ordered a horse with a side of blue cheese. I'm trying to keep my humor while being "jacked".

So today, I decide to go to work. Mind you, it was my driving leg that got messed up. I get to my work, where there are only three of us now, and we have decided SOMEONE needs to go out and buy supplies. I volunteer . Yeah, send the crutches-lady out to drive around and get supplies. So I went. Being stubborn, I only hobble in to the first two establishments. Then I went in the third one...Wal-Mart.

If anyone has ever seen a Wal-Mart parking lot, it's easy to spot the handicapped parking areas. There's probably, um, 40 or so of these damn spots. Seriously, do 40 handicapped people go to Wal-Mart at the same time? I guess it could happen...on Sunday, after church. So I grab my borrwed crutches and head in.

I'm inside and I'm looking around for one of those Rascal/buggy things. Nowhere to be found. Ok, I'll just brace it and crutch myself back to the paints. Then I see it. Some big ass fat woman is riding around in one of the provided scooters. I wanted to tackle her but realized I didn't have my mouthpiece in. I worked hard for this smile. Anyway, I was pissed to see a perfectly capable person taking a ride in my much needed vehicle. I shot stares at her, finding her wherever she scooted. If she was in crafts, I was there...staring. I hope she felt bad. She could at least put me in her buggy. I wanted to shit on her coat, but she wasn't wearing one. Damn fat lady!

I've got a Dr.'s appointment tomorrow with the team knee doctor. I don't mean it as he comes to our games and helps as a trainer....I mean he's who everyone on the team has gone to for their knee. We keep him truckin'.

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Saucy Braves Tornadoes

Last Thursday, we were all warned of the potential horrendous tornado weather that would come on Friday afternoon. The newsguys are that good...or so they like to let you know. They have their own radar system with big names like "ARMOR" or "THE FLYING ELBOW" or something big and bad. The weathermen then like to "inform" the public about different wind velocities, wind shear, echos and other mumbojumbo that I could care less about. If I wanted to know about weather terminology, I would have taken meterology in school instead of thermodynamics. I hate learning when I'm not supposed to be.

Regardless, Friday was a frenzy. Schools let out at lunchtime and places closed early...only for potential bad weather. This is hilarious to me. Weathermen dictate the opening and closing of schools, at least down here.

The wind picked up but the clouds weren't too dark by 2pm. I still went home early to my vinyl-sided apartment. I tuned in to the weather, flipping back and forth between the three newsgroups, deciding when I should take cover in my bathroom.

By 6:30 pm, the weather was bad in my mom's town. Hail came down on the guy reporting outside and he was complaining about how it hurt. No shit?? How would you feel if something the size of a golf ball travelling from, oh 500 ft, landed on your head? Dipshit.

Meanwhile, I'm watching the news, laughing at the guy getting pelted but concerned about my mother's mustang convertible. Thank goodness it wasn't hurt. The storm picks up....

Around 10:30pm, the storms finally come to my town. It's about time. I'm getting my stuff together in my big bathroom. My little tv, pillows, football helmet, phone, medicines, cat, and cat litter. I'll be damned if the cat is going to use the bathroom anywhere else but in her litter box. I can picture people pulling me out of the rubble and wondering why I have cat poop on me.

The weatherman says the tornado is going over the airport (2 miles from me) so of course I donned my football helmet and slid under my bathroom counter. My football pads would not fit on me so I threw them aside. My cat, being all-knowing, climbed into the cabinet and hid. I realized she didn't have on a helmet and damned myself for not getting one for her.

I hear the hail landing outside and hope that my car was ok. I then remembered I had just changed my car insurance hail deductible to more than double what it was last week. I am now mad at myself and I slapped myself up the head...with my helmet on. Tornadoes make you crazy.

The funnel clouds finally pass over and I crawl out from under my cabinet. I lay there, on the floor of my bathroom, and fall asleep. And no, my helmet was NOT on.

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As I hobbled crutch-free into the store to pay for my gas yeterday, the lady behind the counter asked if I had a broken leg. I just looked at her. Why yes, I do have a broken leg that I am walking on. Tornadoes make everyone crazy

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Saucy and the Motley Crue

When I heard Motley Crue was coming to my town, I was joyful at the presence of Mr. Tommy Lee and his "mini-me". I hadn't purchased a ticket but one became available and again, as I do.I ventured.

I enjoy concerts. The first one I went to was New Kids on the Block. Yeah, I had planned to sneak back stage when I was 13 to make out with Donnie. I sure didn't plan on doing anything else with him cause making out was HUGE! Now I realize I could have changed my life had I made it back there with my fake backstage pass I picked up at my local Claire's boutique. DAMN YOU BODY GUARDS! Hey, I got past two of them. More than likely had I flashed some *ahem* meat, I probably could have at least met the guitar player. Who's the guitar player you ask? Hell if I know!

The concert hall is slowly letting everyone in after being searched. Mullets and skip-skap-scallawags fill the area around me. One girl's skirt is so short, when she walks you can see her butt cleavage. She looks to be around 16 or so. What does she know about the Crue??

After some mulleteer tries to talk to me about losing his ticket and finding it (while donning a faded Pink Floyd t-shirt and a frizzy mullet), I finally get in. Headed to my seat with co-concert goer, we passed a sea of motley-looking people.a crue if you will. You have the dad and son (both wearing their newly acquired concert t-shirts), the low-end strippers with their barely there blouses, slow-slung jeans and glitter, the groupies who used to be strippers back in 1987 who still donne their tall hair and clown makeup, the newbies who were just born 14 years ago, the metal heads who are wearing their Slipknot t-shirt and eye-makeup, and the regular people who just look regular.

We get to our seat and continue crowd watching. This is my favorite: people watching! There's the drunk guy at the very back top row going "wooooooooooooooooo" endlessly before the concert even started. The can't-tell-if-she's-pregnant older lady who's evidently been "rode hard" if you catch my drift. She comes back into play later on in the story. Then there's a group of scallywag skanks that walk in next to us. One is evidently a crack-whore as she is small-framed, but too muscular. Her 17 year- old friend is wearing a barely there white top and some low jeans that she pulls up every 30 seconds because, like me, she lacks an ass. Throughout the entire concert, she danced and pulled up, danced and pulled up. It became more entertaining than some of the band.

The Crue came on stage and noise ensued. The distortion is huge in this arena but we make out some songs. You kinda felt bad for Mick Mars. Since I am an expert after watching VH1's behind the music, I knew he was in pain.

The show turned out alright. Toward the end, the "boob cam" came out. They took a hand-held and showed everyone in the crowd. They wanted to see some meat. Enter "rode hard". Somehow she made it to the front and flashed her pancakes. Gross. Then some other graceful ladies flashed theirs. It was all a blur as boobs were galore. Yes, galore.

After the show, we sat and watched the crowd disperse. The Kool-Aid bunch was easily noticeable. At the end of the show, Tommy Lee and Nikki Sixx threw buckets of the sweet stuff into the crowd. Haha, that's what you get for not being where us cool kids were, in the box seats.

Juan Doe...and stuff

Juan Doe

Two years ago, a body was found in my hometown along the side of the road. This man had no identification on him. The only thing authorities know is that he is of Mexican decent. Fast forward to today. Investigators are still stuck on this case with no new leads. They recently put a press release out looking for anyone with information. No joke, they call this man Juan Doe. Is this necessary? If he were Chinese, would they call him Wong Doe? Leave it to my little hometown to put this out there.Gah.

Saucy gets a driver's license...and stuff

Yesterday I got a wild hair and decided it was time to get my Alabama driver's license. Now mind you, I've been living here almost 6 1/2 years and have kept my TN license. Yes, I should have done it earlier but I'm a rebel. However, my TN license is often mistaken for an expired one, as the sticker on the back provided by my homestate is worn and barely legible. I get a lot of flack and have been turned away for services because of it. These "services" include purchasing alcohol and partaking in some booty shakin'.

So I mosey (cause that's what we southerner's do...mosey) on over to the local DMV. For you who don't know, to transfer your out of state license, there is one single DMV location in this city to where I must go. Also, for those of you who want a Commercial Driver's License, this particular Huntsville office is one of TWO in the ENTIRE STATE to get your CDL for Alabama. Also, in case you have your license pulled, this is the ONLY location to get it reinstated in the county.Not knowing this information...I ventured....

Showing up 30 minutes before they opened, I was about 25th in line outside. Most people looked to be the average 16 year old there to get their first license. *dream sequence* I remember my first license. I aced the written. The road test was a little iffy as I jumped a curb in my mom's big pick up truck. I also squeeled some tires and barely missed a passing car. I think they were impressed and gave me my license. THANKS TENNESSEE!

So they open the door and I'm instantly in another line. People from the day before already have their number and sit and wait to be called.The old guy in front of me explains he is there to get his license reinstated because of a DUI but "it wasn't his fault" or something another. Great, entertainment finds me....I know this is going to be a fun field trip now.

I take my number, 75, and sit quietly in the corner. Yes, I can sit quietly, though this shocks some of you. Numbers 50-55 are up. Heck yeah, I'm going to be out by 9am!

I watch the people who are there and realize the CDL/reinstatement bunch very quickly. My favorite person is this skinny crack head. She is definitely on something as she is fidgety and making faces like she is crying, then laughing, then crying. She runs her hands through her hair a few times and doesn't sit. She goes in and out, pacing the floors. Evidently her skin is crawling and she can't take it. Funny thing is, two state troopers are at the DMV and don't say anything to her. Yes, please give her a license. Please.

Then my number is called and I'm forced to sit in another section. I feel that my trip is going to end soon. Then it happens...the computers crash. I'm not talking the Huntsville branch's computers...I'm talking NATIONWIDE the DMV computer system. What? It's karma for making fun of the crackhead, I know.

For the next 2 1/2 hours I sit and wait, next in line. Other characters come in such as...

The Dead Guy - In the computer system, he is labeled deceased yet he is at the DMV. I guess they give a license to anyone.

The Drunk Girl - She comes in claiming she needed a new license because her purse was taken. She reeks of alcohol. The Trooper takes her to the back and gives her a breathalyzer. Who comes to the DMV drunk expecting to get a license?

Billy Ray - The best looking mullet walks in...all business up top...clean, moussed and spikey; it's beautiful. Long ringlets waterfall down the back, looking much like a weave to me.Scrumptious!

Chatty Patty - The girl next to me, number 76. This was her third time at the DMV this week. She brought a backpack full of books and whatnots to waste her time and wore a nametag. She was there to get a CDL to drive her church van. She had to leave by 11...yadda yadda yadda.

Mean Jesus Granny and Crying Granddaughter - They came in late, like around 8:30 am expecting to get a road test. They told her she should have come in earlier and they were already booked for the day. They leave at first, then granny returns to talk to the supervisor. She mentions something about Jesus and I see her brow was looking mean. Granddaughter returns, make-up smeared and they sit in the lobby. Granny then gets up to take down the address for complaints. She gets things done, that granny.

The computers come back up and everyone is estatic. I am up! My vision test was a litle iffy. I guess playing with lasers at work could damage my eyesight, but I pass. I get my license and head out the door. I see Jesus Granny talking to Crying Granddaughter. Knowing they ain't getting their road test now, I grin and leave. That's what you get Mean Granny....kill them with kindness mafakka!