That’s right, y’all. This week’s whacked is gonna focus on my own personal experiences from this past holiday weekend! A little peek into my own whacky world, if you will. So buckle in and prepare to enjoy the ride!
Last weekend was a three day weekend, as it was for most people in the U.S., unless you work at some sucktastic service industry job or as a nurse/doctor/police officer, whose hours and schedules are all over the place. But for most of us office working
schlubs droids, we got a full extra day off to ostensibly celebrate the men and women who have served our country, but really just to have an excuse to BBQ and go to the pool. (From the wife of a former service member who served in 2 foreign conflicts, please note that I am only joking and truly appreciate every sacrifice those people make for the rest of us swimming and pigging out at home!).
The start of the weekend involved taking the boys to a local baseball game. The team we saw is actually the single A affiliate of the Baltimore Orioles, so not quite the pros, but a pretty solid pseudo-professional minor league team. I had never been to this stadium, although I had driven by it a bunch of times. It is a beautiful place that is right off the highway. It is smaller than your normal big league stadium, of course, but a pretty decent size. It reminded me of the stadium in Ft. Lauderdale that I went to years ago to see a spring training game. It was about that size.
In the parking lot of the stadium, I realized that we must have travelled deep into Skynyrd country:
Once we got into the stadium and found our seats, I realized that the hubs had purchased tickets for seats that were in the second row behind the visiting team’s dugout. While great seats to see the game, it was also kind of dangerous because a line drive foul ball could have beamed us at any time. In fact, that happened on the other side of the stadium. So we were very vigilant. But it also allowed for a front row view of this:
Yeah, not exactly sure what was going on here. They asked the kid some question about soy beans (I think) and when he answered correctly, he “won” that chicken hat. But seriously, there is just no excuse for a grown man to wear a cow hat on his head. On TV even. Tragic.
One of the nice things about this lovely little stadium, was that it was very family oriented. It had this area specifically for kids, with a carousel, a moon bounce and a pitching range. So when the kids got a little antsy, the hubs ran them over to that area for a little distraction.
While they left me
to fend for myself to watch the game, I noticed something strange:
Wait. What the . . . ? What is that thing? Some sort of mascot? But I’ve seen the mascot. It’s a wolf/dog type thing. It’s running around the field. What on earth is this then? Looks like some sort of big headed prep-school boy, with that blazer/shirt/orange shorts combo. And what’s in his hand? Is that . . . a tambourine? What on earth kind of world have I stumbled into?
But then . . . it got worse. He came closer. Actually, he ran towards me!!
I don’t remember what happened next, as I believe I passed out in fright. The next thing I remember is my husband and kids returning and handing me a cup of wine. Everything got better after that!
The next day I had the unenviable task of going to the mall to shop for a dress for a family wedding on Sunday. You know what . . . I’m still too emotionally scarred from the whole experience. I can’t talk about it. Maybe later. When I heal.
What ended up happening is that I actually bought three dresses. Since I seem to be incapable of making a decision in the heat of the moment, I figured I would buy the dresses, bring them home and get all my boys to decide, then return whichever ones I didn’t wear. But then . . . I had a better idea! Instead, once I got home, I took pictures of myself in the dresses and texted some of mah homegirls for their opinions!! Much easier that dealing with the hubs’ meh attitude. And lest you think the hubs is upset about this whole thing, please note that he has never been more overjoyed to be released from dress judging duties. I think at one point I heard him running around the house, waiving his arms, proclaiming: “Free at last! Free at last! Thank god almighty, I am free at last!” But I might have been imagining that.
So, I took some pics of the different options, sent a text off to a couple friends, and waited for a consensus to come through. And my girls did not disappoint!! (The funny thing is that I thought I was also texting Jen, since she had just recently given me her number and I put it in my phone, but had yet to use it. Well, apparently when I entered her info, I flipped 2 numbers and when I sent the text, some absolutely random person received pictures of me in multiple dresses and shoes, asking for help picking which one. I so very much hope it was some dude! Sadly, I did not get dude’s opinion).
Oh, so did you want to see the dress that was the winner? Ok, fine. I will finally actually reveal what I look like . . . in a damn dress, no less. Enjoy!
Yep, that’s actually me. In my actual bathroom. It was tough fitting the whole thing in the picture, based on the massiveness which is my big fat body, but I finally got it all squeezed in there. So, that’s what I ended up wearing to the wedding the next day.
Speaking of the next day, did I mention it was supposed to be an outdoor wedding on the beach, in what looked to be very humid 90*+ weather? Yeah, so I was looking forward to melting in this dress. What actually ended up happening was much better. Although it did end up being 90*+, the wedding was in the early evening and we were right off the water, so we got a nice breeze. It actually turned out to be very lovely. Here was the venue:
The drive down there was pretty long. And towards the end of our journey, we were on so many twisty windy backwoods roads that we started to think we could hear the far off twang of banjos. But once we arrived, it was a completely lovely place. The ceremony was short (thank you!), and then immediately after, there was booze and food in a big tent that was right off of the water, with a great view. Plus, we got to hang out with a bunch of really fun family members, so that heightened the enjoyment factor immensely.
There were a couple of fun things to note at the reception. First, it was in this big tent, and apparently the motif of the night was “Large Glowing Dong.” I felt like I was going to be violated at any moment.
There was also this very pretty girl that I saw my hubs tracking with his eyes (he has learned the art of subtlety over the years, but I can still read him), and when I mentioned it to him, in a sort of “busted” way, his response was, “whatever. I am always situationally aware.” Aware of boobs, anyway. But the thing about the girl was that she looked exactly like a much younger Jessica Simpson. You know, 10 years younger, 50 pounds lighter and before she was ruined by her father and turned into televised trailer trash Barbie? So . . . pretty and booby and fresh faced. I couldn’t get a picture of her because by the time I realized the resemblance and tried to snap a pic, they had dimmed the lights considerably in the tent and I couldn’t get any good pics.
The same problem occurred later in the evening when I realized how smoking hot the photographer was. There were 2 photogs. One was bald and wearing a suit. One had shoulder length flowing wavy brunette locks . . . and was wearing a white polo shirt and slacks. I’m thinking that his complete and utter hotness distracted the bride from the fact he was wearing “casual day at the office” clothing and not “vender at a wedding” clothes. Anyway, I kept trying to get a picture, but he was running around or buried in the camera, and I just couldn’t get a good shot. At one point, my niece asked what I was trying to do, and when I told her, she grabbed my camera and was all, “I’ll just go ask him for a pic.” Wait . . . wha?? What is that? That is just not done! You be sneaky and you get the pic!! That’s what you do. Anyway, she ran over, asked him and took his picture. So, apparently . . . that works? Unfortunately, she sucks at picture taking, so this is what she got:
Although, I will also inform you that at this wedding, unbeknownst to me until two days later, I was hit with a huge bomb, which would later become an earworm of enormous proportions! It was here that I first heard the “Call Me Maybe” song by Carly Rae Jepsen. It didn’t really register as anything except another pop song of which I was unaware, but some of the younger (i.e. 20’s) members of my family seemed all excited about it and ran out to the dance floor. Cut to Tuesday . . . I am minding my own business, leaving work and heading to the grocery store, and as I am flipping around the radio stations, I hit upon this song. And as I am thinking, “hmm, this sounds familiar, where have I heard it before?” Bam! That damn song slithered into my brain and took up residence. I proceeded to spend the next half hour walking around Giant, singing out loud “Call Me Maybe.” And since those were pretty much the only words I knew of the song, I just kept repeating it over and over. Damn you, you catchy little tune!!
On Monday, most of the same family members that I had just seen the night before at the wedding, spent the day at my house by the pool. There was swimming, BBQing, drinking . . . you know, the usual. Plus, I sat out by the pool, albeit fully clothed and under an umbrella (homie don’t swim . . . bathing suits are the devil!). Much to my surprise, later in the day, I discovered this:
Yep, that’s me. Ain’t I lovely? Apparently, that damn sun shot right through that umbrella and burned the bejeezus out of my neck and arms. I have a wonderful farmer’s tan. Yippee!!
Then again, around about the time I was discovering my multicolored skin, I also discovered that I was the winner of The Good Greatsby‘s weekly Caption Contest. Hooray! Apparently, when you post a blog and add an addendum at the end begging people to vote for you, it actually works. I guess the old adage applies . . . you don’t have to be talented, just popular. Or something, I might have just made that up. Sounds accurate, though, right?
This was my big prize:
Congratulations to the caption contest winner mistyslaws! (That’s ME!!)
She wins the following prizes:
1. The gift of gab, whether she wants it or not. Watch out grocery store checker, parking attendant, waitress–or should I say, listen up?
2. The chance to be first in line, as long as she’s willing to always arrive really, really early.
3. A garden salad. Directions: First, find a garden. Second, select vegetation (edible varieties are advised). Third, pluck, wash, and enjoy! Fourth, apologize for stealing if you’re one of those old-fashioned types with consciences.
So, thank you for everyone who voted for me. Truly, I was so excited to find out I won this prestigious award! I mean, the gift of gab? I’ve always wanted to literally be able to make a person’s ear fall off just from my extensive speaking ability. Plus, I LOVE salads. So this was an awesome prize for someone like me.