Dear Drunk Drivers:

Most of the time, my blogs are funny and completely insane, because what is on my mind comes out on a computer screen and it's a jumble of words that sometimes doesn't make sense.  I'm ok with that.   This time though, it's a warning and a rant.

Last Thursday night, I seriously almost got really hurt.  Or maybe died (only because I wasn't wearing my seatbelt and it could have been REALLY bad).  I was going down a two lane highway and a drunk driver got into my lane, probably going about 50 miles an hour and made me swerve off the road into some construction barrel that my car destroyed.   Since it was raining, I ended up spinning and pointing north on a street that runs east/west.  Probably the scariest moment of my life because I thought "Holy shit... this is going to be a head on collision and it's going to be bad... and I'm not wearing my seatbelt"  Thankfully, I was able to swerve and miss the asshole that could have killed me. 

So this is my open letter to those drivers that keep getting behind the wheel after having one too many:  STOP.   If you are my friend and keep doing it, I will stab you.  Seriously.  You are going to hurt someone or yourself and the world would be a darker place because of the light that you will have snuffed out prematurely.  

At least I know what cauliflower is!

Over the weekend - I was home alone, since Rob was working in Louisiana - my friends felt pity on me, so they invited me over to have burgers with them.  My job was to bring the lettuce, tomato, onions (which now that I'm thinking about it, it might not have been that they felt sorry for me as much as they just didn't want to run out to the grocery store and thought "let see who we can invite so they can bring us stuff for burgers" but since my friend is like 10 months pregnant, I won't hold it against her. Much).

Anyway, I went to the grocery store and I thought I knew the difference between lettuce and cabbage, but it became clear that I might not.  Now, I know I'm not a cook. I'm a damn baker and we never need cabbage or lettuce to bake cakes, unless you're making kind of a f*cked up cake, but I've never tried that so it's not like I buy whole lettuce and cabbage anyway, because they make things in bags now for salads. Which you can CLEARLY tell is lettuce because it says so right on the bag.

I walked up to what looked like lettuce and well, it had a sign that said "cabbage" on it.  Looking around, there was no sign that said "lettuce" so I thought they might have just misplaced the sign. I grabbed a head of this lettuce/cabbage thing and walked around the grocery store holding it thinking to myself that I thought it was lettuce, but what if it wasn't?  (When I was telling the story to my friend, she asked "why didn't you just ask someone what it was?" To which I replied "I didn't want to look like a dumbass that doesn't know the difference between lettuce or cabbage").  I was thinking that I better not show up to this grill out with a head of cabbage, because my friends are ruthless and I would never live it down (like the time that I was so drunk I fell face first on a four wheeler and couldn't remember anything so they told me I got a busted lip and swollen eye from a fight which was YEARS ago and they still bring it up).  So, I walked back to the produce section and put the head of lettuce/cabbage down and decided to get "fancy" lettuce which is painted purple on the tips and in a stalk and way more expensive, but you can tell it's lettuce because it says so on the packaging. 

At least I can tell what cauliflower looks like. 

PS.  Yesterday, I made up a song about my ordeal and when I was telling Rob about it, he was too busy being the hero of Baton Rouge to really care and might have said I was slightly retarded.

Way to dash my dreams, hubby.

Those of you that REALLY know me, know that I have been - for a while - obsessed with catching a bad guy on America's Most Wanted.  I know, I know, they even cancelled it because it was too much for me to handle, but for YEARS, I've watched the show, visited the website, etc... knowing that at some point some bad guy lives near me or I have seen him at Walmart (because criminals need to buy detergent too) and I was going to call and get famous or just maybe get a tshirt that said "I caught suspect number #82943" or something cool like that.  If they weren't going to give me a tshirt, I totally would have made it for myself.

So, Rob just calls me and apparently his hotel got robbed this morning.  (and I could totally make a comment about how Rob's hotel got Robbed because he was staying at it, but I'll refrain for the fear of sounding like a 14 year old, which you and I totally know I am).  He saw the guys running from the building and of course, like he does... he processed everything they were wearing and what the get-a-way car looked like and what color their eyes were and if they were cheating on their spouse with someone (oh, never mind... he just notices those things about our neighbor) but he went downstairs and the police questioned him and they will probably catch the bad guys because of his self-described "hawk eyes".

My reaction to it all?  GOD DAMN IT TO HELL ROBERT! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME?!   He was confused at first and said something about needing to go poop (or get ice, I wasn't really paying attention) and I just want to be mad at him for taking the ONE thing I've wanted to do my whole life (aside from that one other sexual thing, but we won't get into that) and making it about him.  Of course they are going to catch the bad guy because Rob is extremely observant and I can almost guarantee you that he can tell you if they had fillings in their teeth, but damn it - it was MY thing.  Great.  Next thing you know, he'll be birthing a freaking kid just to show me up and TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME TOO. 

Thanks Rob for robbing me of my life dream.  That is all.

Update:  So these dumbasses show up the next day to rob another hotel and of course my husband spots them and calls the cops and they caught them.  Apparently, he's a hero (in his mind).  Really?! They didn't even have weapons on them.  They might not even have been robbers. Just panhandlers that went from hotel to hotel asking for money and the cops just got fed up with them and arrested them. At least, that's how it goes in my mind.    In real life - they were crooks who didn't carry weapons.  True story.   Oh, and Rob still apparently thinks he's a hero.  

Some ramblings and frozen banana chatter

I've been reading theBloggess lately and she has inspired me to continue writing on my blog - which I haven't done in a while.  And since no one has mentioned it (ie. my best friend who is "supposedly" subscribed to it) I have a feeling my inane ramblings have not been missed. But you're getting them anyway. You're welcome. 

One of my BFFs - and before I go on... is it ok for a 30-something year old to ACTUALLY use the term "BFF"?  I mean, I feel like I should be making friendship bracelets for the five of us to share or something when I use that term.  Speaking of which, I'm totally making friendship bracelets for us because well, when I was a kid, my mom thought they were the devil.  (That's another post for a different day, though).

Ok, so one of my closest friends (I'm grown up here) sent me this picture: 

and I proceeded to giggle like I'm 14 years old.   Apparently, I am.   What I texted her back was "Ahhhh. You BIT THE HEAD OFF".  Ok, I'm 13 years old.   I guess the moral of this story is that I'm lucky to have friends that send me pictures of penis looking things with their head bit off.   Or I need new "more mature" friends.   But who really wants that?!