Hi. You probably know me as hellohahanarf from my years of commenting around the world wide internetz, yet never having a blog. Well my friends, that has changed. Welcome to MY site.
This morning I was on the phone while driving to work and I told a ridiculous story about something that happened at bowling. That story lead to another story in which I found myself insanely embarrassed. (Please note, I don’t embarrass easily.) Britt cracked up and barely could get out, “Why aren’t you blogging this?”
Hmmmmmmmmm, good question. I had to think about it a bit. Basically it boiled down to that I was too busy reliving my flood of 2004 adventure, but a little bit because the story was kind of embarrassing. By that I mean, the kind of embarrassing that had me drop everything and rush out the door to the safety of my vehicle. For some reason me acting the fool and making an ass outta myself in public is one thing, but crossing the line and telling the entire internet is another.
I know, I know…the entire internet is not reading my little blog, but they could. So that is pretty big when I am thinking of sharing stories of bowling and short, fat tongues and army crawling and anal bleach and AdultMart. Yes, anal bleach. And AdultMart.
Sigh.
Point is I don’t think I can do it. Don’t think I can tell EVERYone who stumbles across this blog about mortifying events. Do you share everything with the internet? Where do you draw the line?
Avast me hearties, today be International Talk Like a Pirate Day. Did ye celebrate with ale delivered by your favorite wench? I’m wearing my “leave me treasure chest alone” t-shirt. Yaaaaaaaar!
Fucking electric company took my street down in an effort to get folks without power since Sunday evening back up. A little warning would have been nice, but I can appreciate that those with no electricity since Sunday really might like a hot shower so I am trying to not be angry. No use getting an ulcer over something I can’t control, right? Besides, at least I got to watch the Steelers win on Sunday night. Yay!
You folks, though. Whew! You want your boob shots at any cost! I received emails, comments and IM’s that prove that you are a demanding bunch. And kinda whacked. For some strange reason, I appreciate those things about you.
Regardless, I had no time to get you new images, and I am sitting here at the bagel joint on my lunch hour, pulling these photos from the deep recesses of my lappytop. Hope I haven’t posted them before.
Happy HNT!
(Me at my desk a few months ago.)
From back in June, one wild night in Orlando:
(You know I hate feet…took everything I had not to freak here when her feet touched my chest.)
(I took the photos of these two ladies, so that counts, right?)
(Only wrong thing is, this is one of my bosses.)
P.S. Some of you didn’t realize that the guy who “runs” HNT asks that participants leave a comment on his site saying that their images are up for viewing. Some very gorgeous and talented photographers out there. Go check em out. Enjoy!!
Arriving home slightly late, I was frustrated that my garage door opener’s batteries must have died because no amount of whacking it on my hand or the steering wheel would open the damn garage. Went across the street to hot bald neighbor and asked him if he knew what kind of battery it took and how to open puzzle, when he said, “You need power.”
“No shit.”
“No, I meant that we have no electricity.”
So not cool, people. Our street and area survived Sunday’s storms, but without warning on a spectacular sunny day my power is gone? Sigh.
calling the electric company a bunch of unflattering names made me feel better, then I Bowled a bunch at the league before stopping at Aunt Tom Tom’s to get her keys so that tomorrow I can shower in hot water.
So no HNT for now. And almost no internet now coz the battery is almost dead.
For now I am enjoying the sounds of the evening and the way my living room looks by the light of the lappy top. I am tired, though. More soon. Until then, some sleep…
Yesterday I told you the looooooooooong story of the flood that happened four years ago when Hurricane Ivan’s remnants blew into Pittsburgh and sat on the area long enough to do some major damage. September 17, 2004. The day I lost everything. But see, here’s the thing…I gained even more than I ever lost.
Well, first of all, I didn’t lose EVERYthing. See, Christmas of 2003 I loved my tree and decorations so very much that I kept them up through January. Then I did something I had never done before. I sort of left it up a while longer…a lot longer. Next thing I know it is May and my dining room is a Christmas room. Although I had never left a tree up after January, that damn tree made me so happy to look at, just brought joy to my heart, that I kept it up, telling everyone that I was keeping it up for my birthday so that I could throw a Christmas in July party. Of course I never threw that party, but by July I had sort of really gotten into “the year of the tree” and decided to leave it up until October when I would have a Halloween party. Rarely I would turn the tree’s lights on, but walking by and seeing my favorite ornaments that held such sentimental memories made my insides dance a little every damn time I saw them. And don’t folks say that Christmas should be in your heart every day? Well every day was Christmas in my apartment. Which means that when the contents of my basement contents sat submerged for over 24 hours, my tree and ornaments and decorations were safely in my dining room! Yay!
Walking into the muddy apartment and seeing so many things that were destined for the garbage (oh, such waste!), I couldn’t help but become enveloped in peace when that Christmas tree stood proud in the corner because the water rose up to the bottom branches, but no higher. It was going to be ok. I was going to be ok.
Friends and family kept arriving in droves. My aunt generously offered to have me and both dogs live with her until we found another home (three months later). Another aunt’s best friend is a Catholic priest who sent an envelope with $200 cash that enabled me to work at the apartment and not have to drive to a functioning ATM (those machines need electricity!) in order to give a cousin money to go buy more bleach. Joe, my landlord, had borrowed a neighbor’s generator so most of the mud got pumped out with the water instead of having the chance to settle and need to be shoveled out. An uncle’s mom helped him gather enough food for the small army that assembled. My work BFF sent her husband over with a squeegee in one hand, a gallon of Reunite Lambrusco in the other, plus his pockets filled with exacto knives for cutting carpet and other necessities. A friend arrived with coolers full of ice. A local church offered me a brand new entertainment center to replace the crappy waterlogged one that had to be discarded before mold grew in the damp material. Cousins ran up and down the basement steps, dragging containers of muddy and still dripping clothing, sheets, winter coats, ruined washer and dryer, etc. out to the backyard where I had to sort through everything in the hopes of salvaging something. People were amazing in how hard they worked to help me gut the mess of an apartment. Eventually the garbage pile was both wider and taller than the garage.
When I would start to get overwhelmed and considering breaking down crying, I would remember that I asked God to take care of my dogs. He did. So I would take a deep breath, saying out loud, “Reilly is safe, Ludo is safe, I am safe. Everything else is just stuff.” Somehow that could keep me going for another half hour or hour. Then again out loud, “These are all simply things. The boys are ok, I am ok. Stuff I can do without, Reilly and Ludo are all I need.” And it was true. Granted I needed to remind myself often, but it was true.
Day two of the cleanup, at the precise moment when I needed a break, my incredible cousin called from Florida to see how things were going. Needing to step away from the emotional “holy fuck, I am throwing my life away” feelings, Janie’s voice was very needed. I found myself telling Jane how I asked God to get my dogs to safety only to have one creek recede long enough for our aunt to drive down the street, retrieve the dogs and get out safely with them. Walking by the empty space that was already cleared of the massive mound of garbage we had stacked in front of the garage, where there was nothing but space to again be filled up with my ruined possessions, I was saying, “I don’t need a sign that God knows what we truly need, He connected every phone call of mine when no one else could get through, plus he kept those dogs safe.” Then my boot kicked something, sending the newspaper clanking down the street. Curiosity got the better of me and I chased it down. Unwrapping the filthy newspaper, I found my favorite mug, a hand thrown pottery mug that was given to me at the Three Rivers Arts Festival by the artist himself. It must have gotten lost in a box of stuff that was placed in the basement when I was originally moving in. Then that box sat in the basement for years before being underwater for over a day. The box was picked up and dumped into a huge plastic tub, bounced up stairs, drug across the kitchen floor and out the back door, then dumped onto the cement back porch. Contents of the box were tossed into a “try to salvage pile” or “garbage” pile. All garbage was thrown into another huge plastic tub container, drug out to the garage and thrown on top of the pile until the garbage men made emergency trips throughout the night.
Thrown. Tossed. Dumped. Kicked. The mug was only wrapped in one piece of newspaper, yet it survived without so much as a chip or crack. And I found my gorgeous mug that I loved and couldn’t find just when I was saying how well God knows me. It was then that I was given a truly magnificent gift. The gift of faith.
When the FEMA guy (who I wound up taking out and getting VERY drunk in an effort for him to forget some of the terrible things he had been seeing) told me that mold had settled in and that I should look for another place to live, my aunt insisted that I stay with her. No other landlords wanted to take a chance on me because of the size of my two dogs (50 and 90 pounds) so I was struggling with finding a new place. It finally hit me that I would need to buy a home. I did a bunch of research, found some terrific houses, but the one that I accidentally found driving down the wrong street turned out to be for sale in my price range. The owners had a German Shepherd who looked a lot like Ludo. I got a terrific feeling from the family. And it turned out the owner was the brother of my coworker. Who would build me a fence for the dogs. Yep, I had found my home. One week before Christmas, on December 18th, I had many hands helping me move into my new house. My first house. Three months and one day after the terrible flood, I was safe in the home I was destined to be in.
Moving into this new house felt terrific because that disaster had actually somehow worked out well for me. I felt blessed. And I like that feeling.
At one point an aunt disappeared on “moving Becky into her new house” day. When we finally found her, she was downstairs putting up the Christmas tree that meant so much to me, whose mere survival was a symbol that I would also make it. Come hell or high water, I will make it.
A day short of four years ago was one hell of a rainy Friday. I was downtown at work, so what did I care if Hurricane Ivan’s remnants poured down buckets all day while I was being paid to be inside? Late in the day my best friend called to tell me she just saw my apartment on the news, that there was water up to my front porch’s top step. “Get the hell outta here!” or something similar flew out of my mouth. She replied, “No one else has that dumbass flag like you do, I know where you live!” (For the record, it was SO not a dumbass flag. And I still have one just like it. Black and gold stripes instead of red and white. Then instead of stars there is the City of Pittsburgh skyline in silver on a black background.)
Hmmmm. Water up to my front porch, eh? Not good. Better call the senior citizen who lived across the street. She said she was fine, but that the water was pretty deep outside and that I probably wouldn’t be able to get home. I hung up, assuring her that I would get home to take care of my dogs, come hell or high water. Didn’t expect BOTH hell AND high water, though.
Told the boss that I had to leave early, jumped into my little lightweight, rear wheel drive 1986 Volvo. (Shall I stop now for you fuckers to make fun of my ancient car?) The drive towards home was brutal due to other drivers traveling at a snail’s pace and the rain coming down so hard that I could barely see, regardless of how fast or slow the wipers were moving. My mom called and asked me to come up to stay with her, but she didn’t have a fenced in yard for the boys, plus rumor had it that many roads leading to her place were flooded out. I called Aunt Mary, knowing that her home is dog friendly and has a fence. She picked up quickly, telling me she was at the grocery store, but they had just lost power so she would leave to get my dogs for me.
Aunt Mare would have been coming from a direction that wouldn’t have permitted her to get down my flooded street, but I was coming from another direction that put me at the other side of the flood. I had no trouble with me wading (swimming?) in the water, but would never dare to ask my aunt to do that kind of stupid behavior. Problem was, I couldn’t even get remotely close to home. I had to take a different exit due to a massive lake that accumulated at the end of the Carnegie exit. Coming down Mansfield through Greentree was painfully slow, partially due to the water shooting out of the manhole covers like fountains. I prayed, asking God to please be with my dogs because I had no idea if I would be able to get home and what I would find if I did.
Eventually I got into Carnegie, but every time I tried to turn right to get home the street was halfway full of brown water. I had always heard that you shouldn’t drive into flood water, so I kept going straight until I found a left turn that afforded a parking spot on a hill. Walking to find the best place to cross I came upon a firetruck. As calmly as possible I asked the driver where the shallowest place to cross might be and I was told that I can’t cross, no one can. It was then that I lost it. Somehow I managed to utter, “Fuck can’t! You tell me how! I have to get home to my dogs. They are all alone and I need to get there to get them out. You tell me how and don’t you dare fucking say “can’t” again. I don’t mind swimming.” Poor guy. He tried to tell me that the flood waters were too swift, but I was unbuttoning my Levi’s and walking away. (Anyone else out there hear that jeans are too heavy when wet and that you should never swim in them?) I prayed some more, telling God that I didn’t care about the material possessions, but that He knew how much those dogs meant to me and that I needed Him to help Reilly & Ludo be safe.
Keep in mind that the captain of police got stuck exactly where I wanted to swim across. Seems he was trying to rescue about 20 people when he also got trapped. They were all rescued by boat. While on top of a bridge. Yeah. Stupid, stupid flood. More praying, telling God in no uncertain terms that He could have everything, that it was all His anyhow, but that I absolutely needed His help with keeping my dogs healthy and safe.
ANYhow, here I am taking off my jeans when my phone rang. On a day when no one had regular phone service let alone cellular service, mine rings. Seems my aunt is on my front porch, opening my door. Something about waters receding (receding!!) and getting the key from my neighbor. It was difficult to tell exactly what she was saying because when I heard Reilly & Ludo bark I could concentrate on nothing but the happiest sound I had ever heard in my life. Sure, that sounds melodramatic, but you have to understand how stressed I was until this point. Aunt Mary said to get out of Carnegie and to get to her house, that she would make sure the dogs got there safely.
I found my car and slowly made my way through the traffic to Aunt Mary’s house, thanking God for Reilly & Ludo the entire drive. Aunt Mare saw me parking in front and hurrying to her gate so she opened the door to let my dogs out. They tore across the driveway to me and I collapsed right there in the pouring rain and whipping wind, fell to my knees in the driveway sobbing and sobbing with relief that the dogs were safe. I was safe.
Mare had grabbed the plastic wheeled container which held 40 pounds of dog food and a pair of sweatpants for me so it was great that the boys ate, plus I was finally both warm and dry. Her electricity had been out so we talked by candlelight before going to sleep, no radio, no television and no internet to give us updates. Saturday morning an aunt and uncle who lived around the corner invited us up for breakfast since they had enough food for a small army (the mountain house getaway was canceled due to flooding that prevented anyone from traveling to Somerset). We laughed and talked and ate, having a marvelous (and oblivious) morning until my landlord called.
“Oh Becky, I am so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it, Joe. My aunt got my dogs and said she saw some water in the basement, but that shouldn’t be a big cleanup deal. I’m not worried about it.”
“I don’t think you understand. Oh Becky, I’m just so sorry. It is gone. All ruined. I’m so sorry.”
“Huh? Ruined? What?”
“Everything”
“…”
Several of us piled into my uncle’s van, a bunch of folks went in Aunt Mary’s SUV, hell I don’t even know how many of us pulled up in front of my adorable two bedroom apartment. Former adorable apartment. The stench in the neighborhood was stomach churning, the mud was caked inches thick on the streets…and the inside of my apartment was not much better. Joe had gotten there earlier and had a sump pump started which was getting the water pumped out (thank God for the guy who had the generator across the street because there was no gas, no electricity). I was numb as I walked across the muddy tiled floor to the basement door. Instead of seeing rickety stairs I saw dark water. To the very top of what should have been stairs was nothing but dark water. I reeled backwards, thinking of everything I had stored in the basement that was now worthless and totally ruined by the sewage flood water. Smells are something that I have always been sensitive to and the stench had me on the verge of vomiting. Walking though the living room and hearing the squish of my shoes wasn’t helping, nor was literally seeing the water splash when I walked through the dining room.
It was starting to get overwhelming and I wanted to go. Reminding myself that I told God all I wanted was Reilly & Louie was pretty damn close to not helping anymore and I needed to get out of there, to not see my ruined cowboy boots laying in the muddy hall, to not look at the couch that was now wet garbage, to not see the hundred plus dollars of dog toys soaking wet, to not see that terrible dark water, to not smell that Bog of Eternal Stench odor that had enveloped the neighborhood, to not deal with anything anymore. It was right about then when one of my aunts picked up my “Miracle Mop” that we had purchased together at the home show. It had been standing in the kitchen closet, mop head side up, so she unwrapped the plastic from the mop head, ran it under some fresh water, and drew a white line in the mud of the tiled kitchen floor. I froze, starting to think that maybe this disaster wasn’t as overwhelming as I had originally thought. She smiled and said, “Just like eating an elephant. One bite at a time.”
I’ll save the rest of the good news for tomorrow, the actual anniversary of my life changing event.
Until then here are some photos of that crazy flood.
10th Street Bypass, facing downstream
10th Street Bypass, facing upsteam:
A marina broke loose and floated downstream.
376 West:
Obviously these photos were taken the day after the rain stopped. Water level had actually gone drastically down. For example, in this final photo, the water is under the bridge! September 17, 2004 the Carnegie police chief and about 20 others had to be rescued from on top of the bridge by boat. By boat! There was so much water that the top of that semi would have barely been visible. (And my dumb ass was thinking of swimming??)
After Britt’s bestowing of the Ridiculously Awesome Person award, I was flying high from lots of bloggy love. Then I go to catch up on my blog reading only to find out that Karl has gifted me with this:
How fucking cool was that??!?!!! I’ll tell you. TOTALLY cool. Thanks, Kawol. Love yew and your little blog, too.
Friday night my bowling buddy and coworker, Dang, had a few of us over for dinner and drinks. Lots and lots of drinks. Tasty fresh homemade mojitos. Dang cooked her ass off and a good time was had by all.
(anyone else notice that their shirts from Avitable smell like freshly popped kettle corn?)
Speaking of t-shirts, the Dream Team shirt made me giggle all night…
Dang has two cats, both of which must have sensed that I am so not a cat person because they were all up in my shit, trying to drink my pomegranate mojitos and just generally making sure I knew that they lived there.
Saturday I was scheduled to volunteer at a fundraiser in the morning & afternoon, then attend Wicked in the evening. There was a mix up with tickets for the play and it turned out that we could only secure tickets for the 2 PM show, which meant I had to be selfish and cancel my volunteer work. Normally I would have still volunteered and missed going to the theater, but this is Wicked we are talking about here! I have wanted to see the musical for years and I wasn’t about to miss my opportunity.
Any guilt I had about skipping out on volunteering was quickly forgotten the moment I stepped onto the elevator within the parking garage. I saw the marque and got to wiggling.
Our seats were pretty damn decent, although the fiasco that we went through to even get the tickets threatened to ruin the entire adventure. We weren’t about to let that happen because all four of us were terribly excited to see this performance. As much as I struggled while attempting to read the book (I mean, it took me forfuckingever to get through the damn book!), live theater changes everything. And my cousin’s teenage daughter lit a fire when she sang song after song for me a few years ago after she saw Wicked on Broadway.
When we were in NYC there wasn’t enough time for any Broadway play, but dammit Wicked is here in my town and I was wiggling with anticipation. I know that the taking of pictures is strictly prohibited, but I couldn’t help myself…
It was awesome. All around consensus revealed enthusiastic thumbs up from all four of us (Doodle, Dang, Dang’s Mom and me). If you get the chance to go, I highly recommend it. Just be sure to sit close enough to appreciate the costumes.
Towards the beginning I found myself wishing my Mom were there with me. She loved live theater and took me to the Pittsburgh Playhouse’s Junior Theater as soon as I was old enough to sit still. Hell, she probably had me there before I could sit still, but I remember being very young and finding myself mesmerized by what was happening on stage so maybe it helped me sit still. What I remember most was meeting the cast of the Wizard of Oz after the show. The Wicked Witch scared me. I kicked her, then clung to my parents as I cried.
It was difficult to fight the tears that had welled up in my eyes when Wicked started, but I somehow managed to get through the moment. Glad I was able to get back to concentrating on the play, because it was phenomenal. The sets were awesome, the costumes were gorgeous and the songs so great that I bought the CD. You know I also purchased a magnet because heaven help me if even one little bit of white show on my fridge.
Speaking of the songs, Defying Gravity gave me chills and also brought tears to my eyes, but for totally different reasons…
GLINDA: (spoken)
Elphaba, why couldn’t you have stayed calm for once, instead of flying off the handle!
I hope you’re happy
I hope you’re happy now
(sung)I hope you’re happy how you hurt your cause forever
I hope you think you’re clever
ELPHABA: (spoken)
I hope you’re happy
I hope you’re happy, too
(sung) I hope you’re proud how you
Would grovel in submission
To feed your own ambition
BOTH: (sung)
So though I can’t imagine how
I hope you’re happy, right now…
GLINDA: (spoken)
Elphie, listen to me. Just, say you’re sorry…
(sung)
You can still be with the Wizard
What you’ve worked and waited for
You can have all you ever wanted…
ELPHABA: (spoken)
I know.
(sung)
But I don’t want it
No, I can’t want it
Anymore
Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I’m through with playing by the rules
Of someone else’s game.
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It’s time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes, and leap
It’s time to try
Defying gravity
I think I’ll try
Defying gravity
And you can’t pull me down
GLINDA: (sung)
Can’t I make you understand
You’re having delusions of grandeur
ELPHABA:
I’m through with accepting limits
‘Cuz someone says they’re so
Some things I cannot change
but ’till I try, I’ll never know
Too long I’ve been afraid of
Losing love, I guess I’ve lost
Well, if that’s love
It comes at much too high a cost
I’d sooner buy
Defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye
I’m defying gravity
And you can’t pull me down
(spoken)
Glinda, come with me. Think of what we could do…together.
(sung)
Unlimited
Together we’re unlimited
Together we’ll be the greatest team there’s ever been
Glinda, dreams the way we plan ‘em
GLINDA: (sung)
If we work in tandem…
BOTH: (sung)
There’s no fight we cannot win
Just you and I
Defying gravity
With you and I
Defying gravity
ELPHABA:(sung)
They’ll never bring us down
(spoken)
Well, are you coming?
GLINDA:(sung)
I hope you’re happy
Now that you’re choosing this
ELPHABA: (spoken)
You too.
(sung)
I hope it brings you bliss
BOTH: (sung)
I really hope you get it
And you don’t live to regret it
I hope you’re happy in the end
I hope you’re happy, my friend
ELPHABA: (sung)
So if you care to find me
Look to the western sky
As someone told me lately:
“Ev’ryone deserves the chance to fly!”
And if I’m flying solo
At least I’m flying free
To those who’d ground me
Take a message back from me
Tell them how I am
Defying gravity
I’m flying high
Defying gravity
And soon I’ll match them in renown
And nobody in all of Oz
No Wizard that there is or was
Is ever gonna bring me down!
GLINDA: (sung)
I hope you’re happy!
(This wasn’t the cast I saw, but I really think I liked my cast better than these original Broadway stars.)
And then there was Sunday. Sundays are ALL about the football. I’m writing this before the Steelers head to Cleveland for the Sunday night eight o’clock game. GO STEELERS!!!
P.S. How do you get a Browns fan to stop masturbating? Paint his cock Black & Gold and he’ll never beat it again! hehee
Wow. I woke up Friday all kinds of early so that I could get my ass to work on time. For Once. Coz I am just about never on time, yet we hired a new big, BIG wig and I thought it might be nice if I were there by my 8 AM start time.
Did not work. Some of you know that I click a few blogs before work. When I hit Miss Britt I screamed, and I do mean out loud screamed, “Holy shit, that’s me!!” Her post was all about me and I about passed the fuck out. I mean, it was all about me in the good way! And on Britt’s blog! Waaafuckinhoooooo! Granted, Bitch used a oh so not flattering photo, but that is oh so forgiven because she said phenomenal things about me! Well that and the word “Liquor” is behind us in the picture. hehe
Told you it was bad. BUT, as bad as it was, that photo was taken while we were in New York City, bitches!! Man, what an amazing trip. I am so jealous that she is going back in a few weeks and I seriously SO want to see NYC in the fall, yet I am thrilled that she gets to go with her husband.
That, however, is another post. This one is about me!
She said a bunch of wonderful and cool stuff, but the part that makes me think I am doing something right is this:
And I can’t think of anyone else in the world whose intentions I would trust as completely.
Wow. That is something I never would have come up with when wanting to describe myself, but that is EXACTLY what I hope people feel about me. That my friends and family are the most important things to me and that I am always there for them. I might fuck up, yet my intentions were pure.
Love you, Britt. Thank you so very much for for the Ridiculously Awesome People award. You can’t possibly have a clue how much it meant to me when I went for a regular fix of your blog and there was my name. Then nice crap about me! You are loved and appreciated. I’m thrilled that we met and totally blessed that we had the opportunity to get together and become friends.
Although I do have to put my favorite photo of us up here. It was taken our first day in NYC.
Our offices were in downtown Pittsburgh until a few years ago. After many successful years we bought a building less than five miles away from downtown proper, yet still within the city limits.
Which is why every day when I see the wild turkey and deer on the way to and from the office it blows my mind. Thursday was a semi stressful day at the office, plus it was pretty damn emotional considering it was the seventh anniversary of the horrific events of September 11, 2001. Instead of the normal breath of relief mixed with fresh air, around six thirty when I finally walked out the front door to the parking lot, my attitude instantly lifted. Yep, that is a peaceful young deer beside the front of my SUV.
What do you mean, you can’t see her? Over there to the right of my Chevy. Still too far away? Well, she just so happened to let me get closer.
I moved slowly and she watched me, but she didn’t leave those apples even as I opened the door to the vehicle she was in front of. Climbing in somehow changed her thoughts on me and she proceeded to walk right in front of where I was seated. Even as I turned the key and the engine roared to life, she kept munching on the apples that someone left for the deer.
The 20 minutes I spent with her certainly relaxed me. Turned out to be a lovely and relaxed drive home. Oh how I love city living!
P.S. To the fuckers who are gonna holler that they want their guns…no. Just no. You can’t hunt in my work’s parking lot. There is an office building behind the deer you see here and there are lots of people around, including a hotel. I grew up in a hunting household and have no problem with hunting, however you are not shooting deer or turkeys in my fucking parking lot. Thanks.
Thursday is September 11th and I just don’t want to be posting my HNT photos then. So here ya go, HNT on a Wednesday.
My wonderful new coworker, yes I swear that we have real grown up jobs and aren’t floozies or something, offered to do a guest HNT. (Sure does seem that I have seen coworkers nakey a lot.) Problem is we both got to drinking at the party and it got real dark, real quick while we got kinda drunk real fast. Oh, and it got chilly!
By the time we got around to taking photos, my camera battery was dead and I had to borrow an older digital that I was not familiar with. You know what happened next, right? None of the fucking photos came out!
Well, except one:
She knows that I hate feet and even more than that I hate a French manicure on toes. That type of polish looks gorgeous on fingernails, but on toenails it just looks like the nails are too long and need to be cut. So the fact that my foot was anywhere near hers was a pretty big deal! ANYhow, we’ll get her posing for you soon. Until then, here is another foot photo…
(from April, at the Maker’s Mark Mile)
Speaking of that adventure, I also found this from that photo shoot…
What makes that last photo funny, even funnier than the goofy expression on my face, is that my crazy drunken cousin was trying to take drunken photos for this site and she started directing our drunken aunt to hold up that blanket in an effort for the “set” (insert drunken giggle) to not look so much like a hotel room. Yeah. Didn’t work. We know. But seriously, that is how drunk we were.
Not sure why I am doing this, but here is that same photo, before cropping. hehe
Color me officially embarrassed. And seriously considering never drinking bourbon again if this is the result!
