My life is crazy at the moment.
I thought I’d leave you this…a picture of my father in law, the rock star.
Every time I take his picture, he asks if I’m putting it on my blog. He acts like he doesn’t want me too…but I secretly think he does.
So, here is Roberto the Rock Star.
I will be back first of the week with some good stuff.
Happy New Years!!!!!
(For all of you in the dark, read this post and comments to catch up http://southernfriedmomma.com/2008/12/22/what-every-redneck-woman-wants-for-christmas/ )
I appreciate all comments…even stupid ones. Most of the time I cackle hysterically at everyone’s ramblings.
However, your comment was not very nice. I don’t make fun of mentally challenged people…not even you.
Lord knows if anyone has the right to call Todd “wee todd it”, I do. Hell, I listen to him snore, fart, and see him scratch his nut sack. I do call him names but it’s usually something harmless…like “ding dong” or “doo doo head.”
He knows they are terms of endearment and that I don’t mean them.
So “C”, please don’t call people named Todd “wee todd it” cause sometimes their names aren’t even Todd…they’re people in Omaha, Nebraska at Alegent Health with an ISP address of 126.96.36.199 and they surf the web while they’re supposed to be working.
And yes…I am “da Queen.”
I will have to give kudos to Rico and Secret Agent Man for all their hard work on the revitalization project of smalltownland.
As November 1st approached, I was a nervous wreck with our January 1st deadline approaching knowing that no work had been started. There was electrical, plumbing, drywall, flooring, building inspections, financial statements and a million other things to start.
I was frantic but the boys were cool as cucumbers. I never dreamed they’d pull it off…let alone, effortlessly.
And with the help of two fabulous chicks who know EVERYTHING…how could they go wrong?
This is Rico tuning out my anguish. I’m worrying about the deadline. He’s worrying that I’ll never shut up.
He likes to wear fancy, shamcy tailored clothes. Expensive shoes and cuff links.
Notice the cuff on his shirt? How debonair…
Rico looks like this Monday through Friday 8 til 4.
Next we have the Pointer overalls, pencil behind the ear, baseball hat and McDonald’s bag.
This is his evening attire for the 5 to midnight shift.
He is a man of many talents…and not just in the bedroom.
Back by popular demand…the greatest little redneck gingerbread house in South!!
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
SFM, Rico and the Heathens!
Farm Chick and I just had our Christmas get together. No children…no testosterone. Only girlie gossip…general complaining/man bashing…and present exchanging.
It was an evening full of laughter…trying to buy a life size burro from the Mexicans…and general good time.
Farm Chick presented me with this box…and I’m thinking she got me a box of fruit. And for all you people out there who don’t know…I hate fruit…HATE IT…ALL OF IT…unless it’s pureed and mixed with lots of liquor.
Anyhoo, I open the box…and tada! It’s a redneck girl’s Christmas dream!!!!
A festive pitcher with matching glasses to get tanked…a hedge apple to keep the spiders away…and Astroglide for relations with my husband…cause sometimes spit just don’t do the trick!
(To the parents and in-laws…pretend the above sentence does not exist…you know your grandchildren were immaculately conceived.)
(To Rico…thank you for the rockin’ Sigma 10-20mm lense that I took these pics with…I guess sometimes bad girls do get presents from Santa!)
Poor Ella. For the past year, she has had a camera stuck in her face multiple times a day.
I have been on the elusive hunt for the perfect picture. One in which she smiles, is not covered in spaghetti-oh’s or rolling her eyes. I have taken thousands of pictures…but no dice.
Upon seeing the camera, she stops, drops and rolls screaming, “NO CHEESE! NO CHEESE MOMMA!” in some kind of camera flash induced epileptic grand mal hissy fit.
I become the hunter…she the hunted….in an “Elmer Fudd off to kill the rabbit” kind of way.
Here’s how it goes…
I enter room with camera stealthily slung behind my back for the sneak attack.
Ella hides under bubble wrap and pretends not to exist.
She then realizes that I CAN take her picture even under bubble wrap and takes off running.
Finally, she gives up in a state of sheer exhaustion running from crazy blond papparazzi woman weilding a camera.
After coaxing for five minutes and FOURTY pictures…I got this one (notice face smeared with spaghetti-oh’s…still no dice).
And then she says to me, “NO MO CHEESE MOMMA…KAY?”
Out here in Hooterville, there’s a fine line between class and trash.
We like to ride the fence.
I let my daughter go to school with tattoos. Tats she bought for 50 cents at the bowling alley and insists that they are REAL.
Then to lure her back from the trashy side, we make a gingerbread house.
A TENEMENT GINGERBREAD HOUSE!
All it needs is a mailbox to collect the government check at the first of the month.
Keeping it real, Kentucky style…that’s how we roll.
I know I should be posting something fabulous…some great holiday recipe or other festive nonsense.
Tonight at my house, it’s sippy cups instead of wine glasses.
It’s Ray-Ray spraying my entire bathroom down with the shower head and Ella picking her nose and handing me boogers.
Merry Christmas to me!
After numerous hair color, tons of money, a great stylist and finally figuring out what I wanted to do with my hair…
to suddenly realize I was not the hottest chick at the holiday party.