Argument Won... FINALLY.

Carlos and I have been having this argument ever since we've known each other. Despite my repeated attempts to convince him that it's possible to get sunburned on an overcast day, he has, prior to now, flatly refused to believe it is possible.

I understand how he might think this, having the skin qualities of George Hamilton as he does. That arse can spend the whole friggin' day in the sun and barely get pink on top of his cocoa-brown complexion. My wonderful Scottish heritage has given me no such epidermis.

Today we spent the afternoon at my cousin's on the lake. Hot and muggy, but completely cloud-covered. I should say it still remained bright enough to warrant a pair of sunglasses, however. To prove my point and against my better judgment, I applied no sunscreen today. Sure enough, my forehead now looks like a radish. Thank goodness I had a fairly good base tan from last weekend, or I'd be in a world of hurt right now.

Just now I placed my wide girth between Carlos and his view of the television, thereby securing his attention. Pointing to my forehead, I said "DO YOU SEE THIS???" I then pulled up my shirt and pressed my fingers to my chest, leaving stark white imprints against the red skin when the fingers were removed. "How do you explain this considering we NEVER saw the sun ONCE today?"

I could see the little hamster running feverishly in his brain, trying to find a way to deny the obvious evidence. "Wellllll, I only said that it was impossible for ME to get sunburned on a cloudy day."

He knows as well as I do that his explanation/excuse is a pile of horse manure. I gave him that look, the "I know that you know that I know you are full of shit" look.

"We're never going to have to have this discussion again, are we?"

"No," he replied. somewhat sheepishly.

Argument won.

Kill Me Now

You’d think after 44 years of existence that I’d know better than to wharg down a spicy cilantro steak taco and half an order of nachos at 1:30 in the morning. Especially after woefully forgetting to take my Prilosec that day.

Yet, my response is what it always is when Carlos and I slog into the kitchen after a long band gig day and he says, “I’m freakin’ starving. I’ll pay, if you run and pick up some Mexican while I’m walkin’ the dogs.” Sounds good!

At 6:00 a.m. this morning my trachea reminds me of my misdeeds from hours before. I slam a handful of Tums and fall back to sleep.

Three hours later I’m still waging war in my gut and I’m slamming down bottled waters trying to rinse out this awful taste of chalk in my mouth. I’m such an idiot. I think the only thing that’s going to squelch the fire is a big ol’ greasy egg McMuffin! Just kill me now.

I've Been What? Tagged???

This is such an unexpected moment… responding to a “tag” from my buddy Trelvix. Why they call it a "tag" is foreign to me... is it like "tag, you're it?" I'm not the hippest when it comes to the latest internet lingo, so I'm just guessing. But mostly I'm surprised at being tagged by TRELVIX. He is not the type to normally play along with this sort of thing. A real “runs with scissors” kind of guy. For whatever reason (I blame it on the inevitable mellowing that comes with each passing year) he acquiesced and did one of these “get to know me” exercises. And now, the apparent protocol dictates that he pass this exercise on to others. Swell.

I actually enjoy these simple diversions from time to time, so am happy to comply. I’m not “tagging” anyone else though. I’m too limited in my circle of blogging friends (my ramblings are done solely to amuse myself). So, to fulfill whatever rules or regulations govern these things, I give you the requisite eight things you might not know about me.

1. I’m really lucky to have a cool family. I have three older brothers, all of whom I adore and see regularly. They are some of my best friends, and I KNOW how lucky I am to have siblings that care about me. It is a tribute to my Mom and Dad that we are all so close – they raised us with a lot of love and a good dollop of discipline. I am truly blessed.

2. My most embarrassing moment is NOT the night I was so drunk after a Pink Floyd concert that I dropped trow and peed in front of about 40,000 fans stuck in traffic (keep in mind I’m a WOMAN, so really hard to clandestinely pee). Hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go. No, my most embarrassing moment was when I was about 11 or 12 years old, standing in front of my bedroom mirror playing my tennis racket guitar and singing along with whatever record was on my close-n-play turntable (remember those things?)

I was totally working on my rock star face and honing my guitar god skills when I see the reflection of my Dad standing in the doorway behind me. He wasn’t laughing, he was just standing there with a quivering lower lip. I collapsed in a heap on the floor; I’m sure I started crying and yelling at him with pre-pubescent fervor to stop invading my privacy or whatever. My own damn fault for leaving my door wide open, but it was the middle of the day in the middle of summer and Dad wasn’t supposed to be home from work yet. I laugh about that moment now, but back then it was HORRIFYING I TELL YOU!! Haha

3. As much as my buddy Trelvix hates the smell of cinnamon, I LOVE the smell of cinnamon. I actually love the smell of maybe 80% of the spices in existence. Garlic frying in butter… MMMMMMMM.

Fresh basil, fresh dill, fresh chives…. Mmmmm. The smell of spices means somethin’ is cooking, and I’m all about the cooking!!!

4. I believe in guardian angels. I know I have one that looks out for me personally - I've evaded enough close calls to really believe that. Our whole family has one that works overtime on the 4^th of July. Anyone that has been to one of our mostly drunken fireworks extravaganzas can attest to that! This year’s “Saturn Missile Battery in the fire pit” was HI-LARIOUS, but only because nobody got hurt – just some burned shorts. Thank God for angels!!

5. I like hanging out with the fellas. Growing up with three older brothers, I was always a tom-boy. But even as I’ve aged and become much more “girlie” I still have so little tolerance for most girlie behavior. I hate catty women, I think long fingernails are completely ridiculous, and I don’t have any tolerance for weakness. Give me a cigar, a good whiskey, and some football and I am in paradise. Headstrong, independent, intelligent women are my closest gal pals.

6. I am not afraid of death, but I am terrified of getting old. More accurately, I am afraid of losing my independence and faculties. I don’t care about getting wrinkles and saggy boobs and all that. Outward appearances are so unimportant. But living through my Dad’s battle with Alzheimer’s has me petrified. Seeing this wonderful, funny vibrant man reduced to a shell of his former self was a nightmare. I never want to be a burden on ANYone, financially, emotionally, or otherwise. My only hope is that should my path take me down a similar road that there will be some kind of life-ending alternative in the next 30 years!!

7. I love to fish but I hate baiting my hook and I don’t like taking the fish off the hook. And, I don’t have a clue how to clean a fish. How stupid is that? But, isn’t that what husband’s are for?

8. I abhor people who litter. I don’t know how many times I’ve been stuck in traffic and I’ll see a car ahead of me throw a cup or wrapper or fast food bag out the window and I SO BADLY want to jam my car in park and walk up to the idiot’s car, rap on the window and shove the bag back in their face while screaming, “GEE, I THINK YOU MUST HAVE ACCIDENTALLY DROPPED THIS YOU FUCKING MORON!!!” I have yet to do that, but as I get older and more impatient I am edging ever closer to this event. I’m not a green-freak or anything, but when I’m at the beach or in a park and see people’s discarded beer cans and hamburger wrappers I go mental. So, please, don’t litter when you’re around me.

There you go, me in a nutshell.