Friday, August 12, 2005

Me wonders when Kitty will




will smile like this again. It's been such a long, dry week for Kitty. She has worked very hard so that Team Endura can journey north next week. All work and no booze has made for a sour kitty. Me thinks she needs to get back in the game before all hope is lost. Per usual I have protected her identity, but I can't hide all the happiness and joy shown on her face.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

Me wonders why my sister,


Fat Baby's Mama, insists on dancing like she is a former member of the Russian Rhythmic Gymnastics Team with experience also in pole dancing and cheerleading? She is on the left in this picture, but I have airbrushed her face to protect her identity. Our mutual friend is on the right, but I have painted her face as to protect her identity as well (if you really want to know though, you can find her at floyds tailgate.). I wonder about this today because tomorrow evening I am going to have to witness these shock-n-awe routines first hand to the likes of an eighties' cover band. Even more disturbing than the native folk/hip hop dancing Floyd and I will be privy to is when Floyd and I try to mimic her barbaric moves. It's the collective rhythm that eventually draws the crowd...and it's not pretty.
We will wake up saturday morning with general muscle soreness, but also with a deep satisfaction knowing that our mission to share the gift of dance through the language of rhythm and alcohol was accomplished.

Friday, July 29, 2005

Me wonders why the tried and trusted

fade-away is not working per usual. Everyone of dating age knows about the fade-away. We know all the rules surrounding the fade-away. We know how they apply and to which party they apply. We know if we are on the receiving end of the fade-away. This knowledge is not something learned along the way, but rather knowledge every human is born with. Every human except the DUDE THAT WON'T STOP CALLING AFTER ONLY 2 DATES. And by 'won't stop calling' I mean HE calls every day except Sunday and never leaves a message. "That's crazy!", you say. I KNOW.

A little background on said 2 dates...
HE is a person that I met during my short stint of prostituting my cowgirl charm on a very popular internet dating site. HE lives over 1 hour away from me....in another state, even. After a couple friendly "let me see your stats" emails and conversations I agreed to a dinner. Only a dinner. Just a dinner. And nothing but a dinner. The dinner was good. I had a filet, medium- rare. I love steak. Hence, the yummy filet I was served was well worth the 45 minutes of brutally awkward conversation with someone that had a crooked face (off center nose, some sort of facial nubbin, and quite possibly a lazy eye). Following this was the one armed hug/pat without any bodily contact but the one arm. There was some more disgusting small talk and I was off, speed dialing my peeps before I had even left the parking lot.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch.....
HE calls and says what a fantabulous time he had, I'm the greatest thing since Budweiser, and when can HE see me again. Now, this is the point where any normal person would say something about being flattered, nice meeting you too, and thanks, but no thanks. Not me. I have a hard time saying no to people. I don't want to hurt feelings (usually) so I said okay to another dinner. Again, just a dinner. However, this dinner happened to fall on Cinco de Mayo.
I love Cinco de Mayo. I love it like I love steak. I started drinking with friends earlier in the evening (okay, I got off work earlier in the day and was blitzed whenst I was supposed to meet him.). No problem - I told him to come and join me and my nice friends. 4 Margaritas and 1 one armed hug/pat later and he was off. I stayed to finish my celebration of what can only be described as one of the most rockin' holidays of all time.

Then he started calling.....
I spoke to him 2 more times after the 2nd date. I spoke of my busy, demanding life-horses and NASCAR, NASCAR and horses. I spoke of no "free time". I spoke of no "wanting to see him again". There was none of that. I stopped taking his calls. Afterall, there was no reason to.
I had enlisted the help of my true blue friend, my dating assistant per usual- Old Faithful the fade-away.

That's it. End of story, Right? Those are the 2 dates. Total time spent with this internet john = 2 hours...TOPS. It's almost August and HE still calls. I could set the world clock around his phone calls. Me wonders in full wonderment, why HE doesn't get it.

Dude, if you're out there, STOP FREAKIN' CALLING ME.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Me wonders no more about some things like....

where Floyd used to work before she hung her own shingle. This pic was taken during her interview process:





or where the great state of Michigan is. It's here: http://www.mapquest.com/maps/map.adp?searchtype=address&country=US&addtohistory=&searchtab=home&address=&city=&state=MI&zipcode=


or where the Dutch Porn Star lives. He lives here:




or what Kitty looked like before law school. She looked like this:



These specific wonderments have been realized, but me thinks there is still plenty left to wonder about.

Friday, July 22, 2005

Me wonders at what age

it will be considered "inappropriate" to be carted around on some sort of industrial strength wagon as a means of infield transportation? (Think party bus without the bus atmosphere, engine, and such.) Me wonders this not out of concern for myself (being the youngster that I am I realize my days of wagon riding are just beginning), but more out of concern for my friend/wagon partner, Kitty, as she has a couple (over 8 and under 10) of years on me. Knowing that Kitty's wagon riding days are numbered, I graciously allow her to ride shotgun.
In addition to this wonderment, me also wonders when the little carni will revolt and demand her turn on the wagon?
And, lastly, me wonders at what point people will get sick of motoring us around on said wagon?

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Me wonders if Elliot Sadler





had his pick of a kitty, a cowgirl, and a carni who would be his pick and why? (This is kind of a non-wonderment in my book. I believe with everything horsey about me that I would naturally be his first...and only pick. He would never be able to keep up with the carni speech pattern. I also believe the carni's good humor would be lost on him. Naturally, a kitty would be the last pick with the 1600 hunting dogs sniffing around the Sadler spread waiting to prey on a little docile kitty. They would eat her for leakfast and be looking for litter mates for linner. Poor kitty. Also, the candyman and I are much closer in age and height...both obvious reasons for our eventual joining.)

Monday, July 18, 2005

Hmmmm, Me wonders if Tony Stewart

will continue to climb fences despite his expanding girth?