You can’t deny your heritage.
Rico and I have a side business doing property renovations and we are always having a dilemma about transporting our tools to and from the site. Usually it requires many trips, loading and unloading, more trips because you forgot to bring something, and lots of frustration.
Rico came up with the idea of buying a truck just to use for this purpose. Since the pickup truck we’d been using is no good during inclement weather, he thought a box truck or a bread truck would be great. Spending thousands of dollars on a new one was out since our budget was limited but he thought with the economy being so rotten we might find a good deal.
A good deal?????
You can imagine my surprise when he showed up with this hot mess of “Custom Deluxe” redneck truck…
Oh, yes…he did.
“But it’s Custom Deluxe“…maybe for Boomhauer.
This whole thing reminds me to get a tetanus shot.
Not only am I expected to ride in this thing, I’m expected to like it. And he has this GRAND idea to put billboards on both sides of the truck with his name, phone number and PICTURE…so even if I try to sit way down in the seat and hide, people will still know it belongs to us.
The more I try not to be a hick, the more redneck trucks he brings home.
I think this truck is missing one thing for it to be perfect…
My husband Rico is a man of many talents. He’s a big bid’ness man…a fixer upper of properties,a builder of a Mexican restaurant, a seller of financial services.
He also marches to the beat of a different drum.
You might say he’s a little unconventional.
We live in the country. We are ten miles from work, ten miles from the grocery, ten miles from pizza.
We live so far out, we have sketchy cell phone service. Sometimes they have to pipe in sunshine.
Living in the country has it’s perks. The kids can run free and leave their crap all over the yard. We can burn stuff whenever we like and we can make home improvements without the prying eyes of the neighbors.
If we lived in a fancy, schmancy subdivision, we would have to have approval from the appropiate committees to do outside renovations to our home. Renovations that Rico thinks are just grand…a little unconventional…and a whole lotta redneck.
I don’t think we’d make the grade.
Recently, our house has been a little smelly…a little sewer smelly. We had a “p-trap” problem with our plumbing. I was ready to call the plumber, which is our cousin, Uncle Brother, but Rico, being the super genius man that he is decided he could solve the problem himself.
After a trip to Lowe’s and thirty five minutes, the smell from my house had vanished. I was astonished until I went outside and saw this hot mess of redneck plumbing…
Look at him…he thinks this is a good thing. He actually said to me they would look better if they were chrome.
I swear to God people…this is not a joke. He is really leaving this on my house.
I’m still waiting for Howie Mandel to tell me this is a joke.
While I am finishing this post, he has just put a college dorm room size refrigerator in the bathroom. I swear to God, I live in hell.
Words of wisdom from a southern Confucius…
Confucius say when the doctor tells you that you can’t have a fever cause your a cold hearted bitch, you need medication.
Confucius say when your husband says lots of people will show up for your funeral to make sure your dead, you need a divorce lawyer.
Confucius say quitting your job and staying home with the kids would require more medication than working every day.
Confucius say if you drink enough Red Stripe you will make a brown stripe.
Confucius say no matter how flat the pancake, there are two sides and a thousand square feet of your house is covered in syrup.
Confucius say Valium should come in a salt lick.
Confucius say laundry will not do itself, no matter how long it stays in the hamper.
Confucius say until Rico hires a new housekeeper, relations will be sparse.
Confucius say winning the Nigerian lottery is really not a big deal anymore.
Confucius say a 10 year old girl with a crush is as dangerous as George W. in the oval office.
Confucius say men may come and go but girlfriends help you bury their bodies.
Almost a year ago, I started this little blog with big ideas and big dreams.
I wanted to be the next Dooce or Pioneer Woman.
It’s been reported that some big name blogs make $40,000 per month in advertising. Yeah, I’d take it.
Me? I’m bringing in a cool $28.
You see, there’s a big difference in these gals and me.
Them: Work really hard, write quality posts, network, pay their dues, write books, get paid big money.
Me: Write some crap, hope you show up, expect to get paid big money.
I know I should be out there pimping my blog to every mommylogic/humorblogger/twitter/facebook site there is but I am too overwhelmed to do so.
Being a pimp is hard work. I should’ve been a hooker so I could just lay there and still get paid.
I’m lazy like that.
Today I am making a plea to all consumers of the Wally World.
First of all, I don’t mind that you come shopping in your Nascar PJ’s. I come to the superstore looking like crap all the time. So get out of bed, roll your hair and and come on shopping.
Second, I don’t care if your kids misbehave at the store. Been there, done that. My kids have thrown some tremendous tantrums. They gotta learn how to act in public somewhere, it might as well be at the Wally World.
But one thing I can not handle, If you are gonna come to the Wally World to buy the economy pack of generic douche, please do not subject me to you intently reading the label while I am buying chicken.
I am in the poultry aisle, you should be in the fish aisle.
Thank you for your cooperation.
The Smith’s were unable to conceive a child and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife goodbye and said, “Well, I’m off now. The man should be here soon.”
Half an hour later, just by chance, a door-to-door baby photographer happened to ring the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. “Good morning, Ma’am’, he said, “I’ve come to…”
“Oh, no need to explain,” Mrs. Smith cut in, embarrassed, “I’ve been expecting you.”
“Have you really?” said the photographer. “Well, that’s good. Did you know babies are my specialty?”
“Well that’s what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat!”
After a moment she asked, blushing, “Well, where do we start?”
“Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch, and perhaps a couple on the bed. And sometimes the living room floor is fun. You can really spread it out there.”
“Bathtub, living room floor? No wonder it didn’t work out for Harry and me!”
“Well ma’am, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the results.”
“My, that’s a lot!” gasped Mrs. Smith.
“Ma’am, in my line of work a man has to take his time. I’d love to be in and out in five minutes, but I’m sure you’d be disappointed with that.”
“Don’t I know it,” said Mrs. Smith quietly.
The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of his baby pictures. “This was done on top of a bus, “ he said.
“Oh, my God!” Mrs. Smith exclaimed, grasping her throat.
“And these twins turned out exceptionally well…when you consider their mother was so difficult to work with.”
“She was difficult?” asked Mrs. Smith.
“Yes, I’m afraid so. I finally had to take her to the park to get the job done right. People were crowding around four and five deep to get a good look.”
“Four and five deep?” said Mrs. Smith, her eyes wide with amazement.
“Yes,” the photographer replied. “And for more than three hours, too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling…I could hardly concentrate, and when darkness approached I had to rush my shots. Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I had to just pack it all in.”
Mrs. Smith leaned forward. “Do you mean they actually chewed on your, uh…equipment?”
“It’s true, Ma’am, yes. Well, if you’re ready, I’ll set up my tripod and we can get to work right away.”
“Oh yes, Ma’am. I need to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It’s much too big to be held in the hand very long.”
Mrs. Smith fainted.
Several months ago, Rico and I, along with Farm Chick and SAM purchased an old vacant building on our town square. Like a lot of small towns, businesses have slowly been dying out to strip malls and trendy store fronts along new roads. Long gone are the days of spending a leisurely afternoon on the town square going from store to store, ending the day with a treat from the local Corner Drug Store ice cream fountain. Those were the days….
We purchased this building on blind faith. We had no idea what we were going to do with it. Ideas came and went. Most were interesting but few would pay for the building itself and all the repairs that needed to be done. Luckily, we met a wonderful group of people who were already in the restaurant business in an adjoining county that were interested in expanding.
A deal was struck, handshakes were made and the work began. Lots of work.
Rico and SAM did an amazing job. I can’t begin to explain the work that these guys have put into this project while still maintaining full time jobs and other projects. I am so proud of them.
I am also thankful of the kindness of family and friends who have supported us. From helping out with the kids, helping out at the building, or to just stopping by to see how things were going.
Tonight we had a private dinner at the restaurant before the grand opening to celebrate with family and friends. Miguel and Roy did a fabulous job. The food was delicious. The service was fantastic. The atmosphere was invigorating.
Tonight I am grateful for opportunity, family, good friends and lots of great Mexican food.
A day to wear your Sunday best.
A day where God puts you to the ultimate test, making you sit in church with a 2 year old whacked out on sugar while you try not to cuss under your breath.
It’s the Olympics of motherhood.
(Hold toddler, hold hymnal, rib Rico for playing brick breaker on the Blackberry, try not to laugh at friend for snarky comment out of side of her mouth, try not to let too much boobs hang out of dress, try to sing without offending other worshipers, write check for tithe while watching kid outta one eye, listen to sermon all at the same time while looking calm, cool and collected.)
I’m sitting on the back pew, the most appropriate place for a hussy like myself.
My mother in law is sitting across the aisle creating a perfect runway for my 2 year old.
Joy, He has Risen.
While Ella is hotlappin’ the aisle and I am trying to act all “mother of the year” during the ”meet and greet” portion, my MIL informs me that Ella doesn’t have on any panties.
Yes, people, I took my baby to church on Easter Sunday with no panties.
I spent the next 45 minutes praying with great intestinal fortitude that she would not pull her dress up and display her poochie poochie to the whole congregation.
I am a believer in miracles, as Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, as God created the world in 7 days and as Christ arose on the third day….
and my miracle was delivered to me, in the back pew of a small Presbyterian church.
Thank you God for miracles, no matter how small.
Although I love going to the beach, I will admit to coming home, sitting on my back porch soaking up the sun, smelling the freshly cut grass and enjoying the sounds of the birds for a full ten minutes before I started yelling at the kids again.
Coming home sure does make you relax.
Overall, we had a good week.
Ray Ray fell in love with a surfer dude but it was short lived as his mother was a rude hag.
My mother in law was driving the Rover when a 92 year old snow bird backed into her and refused to admit it was her fault because she was scared her kids would take her license. Ya think??? Here’s your sign!
Ella spent the entire week buck nekkid. ‘Nuff said.
Rico spent the week trying to convince me that he’s really a pirate and we should sell everything we own and buy a boat.
I’m not that great of a swimmer and my floatation devices aren’t that big so I spent the week pretending I didn’t know any of them.
We packed up the heathens and drove 800 miles only to find out the forecast for the next two days called for a high temp of 50.
Joy to the world. God has a sense of humor. Oh yes, he does.
So then we pack up the heathens and drive an hour to the Mobile Science Center, where I spend $40 so my kids can run through at breakneck speed thus eliminating any chance of actual learning whatsoever.
I stopped at the Mobile town square so I could commune with nature and get some inner peace…actually, I was having a quiet moment and asking God to save me from the hell that was commencing in the Rover. Then God sent me a sign that things could be worse as I was approached by a hoard of rabid squirrels who wanted to climb up my leg.
The kids are bad but at least they don’t give me rabies when they bite.