FUCK PHILLY! GO PENS!
Yes, the Penguins are playing game two tonight against the Flyers. One would think a Pennsylvania girl would be happy having two teams in the playoffs, but there are crystal clear lines drawn and I am wholeheartedly on the Penguins side.
We won the first playoff game and I would love another win tonight.
Fuck Philly.
Updated to add this photo from That Guy. He got it from The Pens Blog.
Last week when I was in Atlanta it just so happened to be my favorite show of the year. Spectacular people, good food, great drinks. Combine all of that and it is the prime environment for HNT.
The photo above totally counts for HNT because that is what we were thinking. The one below doesn’t exactly count, but I wanted to post it anyhow. My blog. Therefore would seem that I can do whatever I want. Actually, I may have told him after the fact that his ass would wind up on the internet. 
Woot! 
(Yes, I know the auto date on T’s camera is fucked up. She now knows it as well!)
For more HNT fun, head over to where it all started. Click on the comments for other participants!
Three years ago at midnight on the 12th of April my Mom died. Right now my beloved Reillymonster is sick. He is only nine years old, but has a nasty infection in his eyes. I am trying not to overreact, trying to breathe and remember that it is probably “only” an eye infection. It isn’t easy.
I was able to secure an appointment on Wednesday with his vet, but it would mean a lot to me if you guys could pray for his fast healing. It is not over dramatic to say my mental stability depends on Reilly’s health.
I know a lot of us don’t worship the same God, but if you could all please talk to your God on behalf of my little Reilly, I would really appreciate it.
Vet appointment is at 4:15 PM. I’ll let you know more as soon as I know more.
Thanks.
xoxo
Our weekend in Kentucky was so fantastic that we are already planning the next one. Yep, it looks like I am going to ConFab, Baby! Yay!
Thursday after work my cousin, Re (Twinkle Twat), and my coworker, Cinderella, jumped into my SUV and we headed to Kentucky. The drive was going well until about Cincinnati when we decided that we simply had to see the Hofbrauhaus in the area. It was midnight and we still had about 80 miles to go on the drive to Lexington, but since Re works at the one in Pittsburgh we were simply too curious to pass it up. The girls had one beer, I had one water. As soon as we got on the road the gentle hum of the engine made both Re and Cinderella pass the fuck out. Not sure how, but I managed to stay awake enough to get us to the gorgeous home of Turnbaby and Fab. Wasn’t long after that we all hit the sack.
Friday brought a tasty breakfast and the Maker’s Mark Mile. Even the rain couldn’t dampen our spirits. Especially when there was so much bourbon to consume. And incredibly beautiful bartenders (I may have told one that my shoes were sexy, he may have said not as sexy as his and I might have said that his shoes would look even better under my bed. While sober. Wheee!). The ponies ran around in circles, we drank bourbon and made friends. All around great day.
Me, Re and Cinderella 
We went to the party thrown by Maker’s Mark, but there were entirely too many people there so we left and headed to Shamrock’s, a cute little bar that is across the street from the hotel I stayed in last year. Fab and Turn were all lovey dovey (seems that is what newlyweds do) and my crew was all drunk (seems that is what we do).
Saturday we decided not to make our annual trek to the Maker’s Mark distillery so that we would have more time to all get tattoos together and to make a trip to the heaven on earth known as the Liquor Barn. Pennsylvania is a very controlling state when it comes to alcohol and nothing like the Liquor Barn is available around here. At the register I crossed my fingers that I would stay under $200 and I did! Yay!
My kind of shopping! 
Newlyweds were still squishy and cute. 
The Liquor Barn was the only place I remembered to be “artistic” with my camera. hehe
Totally counts!
Even with hundreds of dollars worth of booze in the back of the vehicle we stayed sober and headed to Tattoo Charlie’s. They aren’t the friendliest and are a little overpriced, plus the wait was crazy so we headed a block down to the Lucky Lady tattoo parlor. They were incredibly nice and we got a much better vibe from the place so we hunkered down for the next four plus hours. Fortunately we had Pringles, chocolate covered macadamia nuts, water, pop and various snacks to sustain us. All four females got tattoos, Fabby pussed out. I mean we ran out of time. Although I can’t help but give Fab shit for not getting inked, I give him loads of credit for being supportive of Turn.
I didn’t get the love at Lucky Lady’s. Instead every damn one of those fuckers made fun of the faces I made. Some even took photos for their Facebook photo albums. sigh
Afterward we decided to stay in and party at home instead of going out. It was terrific fun and a night full of laughter. Sweet tea vodka and shots of Barenjager had me so very happy that I forgot to take pictures. Until it was pretty damn late. Then these types of images were captured.
Still lovey dovey 
I may have crashed earlier than I wanted to, but I had to drive home on Sunday. Somebody had to. Those two stupid bitches that I traveled with couldn’t stay up on the drive home.
I haven’t had time to take the photos from my phone yet, but here is a cellica phone photo of my new tattoo. Sorry for the terrible quality of the picture.
The turtle is an image that was on a shirt I purchased in Hawaii. I think he compliments the Strong Woman piece nicely. Here is me in the shirt the other day in the Cincinnati Hofbrauhaus. Well, technically it is in Kentucky, but whatever.
The fuckers I was with took photos of me in pain while Amber doing the actual tattoo. Seems me in pain is funny to those bastards. I think Fabby may have already created an album of my ouch faces on Facebook. (Please note that I am holding a black pillow against my black shirt…I am not shoving my fingers up myself. Bad, bad photo!)
Happy, happy Easter! I now have a six hour drive ahead of me and I am entirely too hungover.
So torn on what to get. And where. Forever is a mighty long time!
The snow I awoke to Wednesday seemed to anger so many Pittsburghers, yet actually was comforting to me on a day when our town had to bury three police officers. Like somehow the weather knew to be quiet and somber for me.
I just realized that I skipped two weeks of HNT. Woops. With so much going on, with the running so hard, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that something had to give. Just wish it weren’t my brain!
In Atlanta on Sunday night I was sitting with a group full of people when I overheard my dear friend Kurt…errrr, I mean Boris…talking on his cell phone and telling someone that it was a sausage fest at the hospitality suite we were in. Now I realize a lot of folks think of me as one of the guys and all, and normally I appreciate that, but dammit I don’t have a sausage! To prove the point I grabbed the top of my tank top and yanked it down, showing an exaggerated view of my cleavage. I may or may not have jiggled my boobs at that point. And at several other points in time.
The next day on the trade show floor I was talking with Boris & T about the night before. Boris perked up and exclaimed, “I saw boobies!” Then he realized he only really saw more cleavage than usual and started to drag a bit. It was then that I giggled saying he had already seen nipple because we have been nakey in the same hot tub (no touching!) and that he has seen my breasts on my blog. He perked up again so I promised to post nipples for him as soon as I got the chance.
Today is my chance. These are for Boris, not forsythia. (hehe. That was bad, I know. Sue me.)
Same breast and forsythia…which do you prefer? 
Here, enjoy more images, Kurtie!
Same breast, slightly different angle. Which of these is better? 
After work on Thursday I leave for Kentucky and the Maker’s Mark Mile. Last year we took photos that eventually became my first Half Naked Thursday. Who knows what will happen this year. Only thing I know is that it will be fun!
As most of you already know, I am always running late. Hell, I was even born three days later than my due date. Being on time is just not something that is terribly important to me. Even on the days when it is important, something inevitably comes up to fuck up my good intentions so I am late anyhow. Usually it isn’t a problem.
Friday I had a flight to catch at 8:05 AM. The dogs needed to go to the kennel before I could get to the airport. And, not surprisingly, I was running about 20 minutes late. Hoping the weather would delay the flight, I pushed on even though the rain made it difficult to see (and therefore driving at 90 miles an hour became a little dangerous).
When I pulled up at the curbside baggage check at 7:16 I was thankful to see Delta had a few guys outside checking bags and no line. Considering that the airlines usually cut off checked baggage 45 minutes before a flight, I practically hugged the guy who rushed to help me with my bag. We were talking and laughing when I glanced over to see a state trooper coming my way.
Fuck. No stopping, parking or anything meant I told the baggage dude to keep checking me in while I drove around the block…I’d be back for my driver’s license. Unfortunately it was too late, the cop was at my SUV before I was.
He asked if it was mine and if it was registered in the state of Pennsylvania. I smiled and happily told him of course it was. Even added a “sir.” I about threw up when he asked if I realized my registration was expired. Almost a year ago.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck. The incredibly attractive officer asked to see my registration and license. I dug out my registration paperwork, giggling as I told him, “You are going to love this one. My license is with the baggage guy and my registration papers aren’t signed.”
He was nice and handed me a pen saying something about me agreeing to not litter. It was right about then, right there in the rain, that I lost my shit. I do NOT litter, thankyouverymuch. HATE litter and how dare he accuse me of littering, dammit. Even went so far as to share the story about drunk Tour Guide Me grabbing some guy by the throat because he littered in front of my guests from Cleveland. Cutie patootie cop apologized and showed me the language on the registration which mentions by signing that the vehicle owner agrees to fines of $300 for fining. I blushed a bit and apologized for screaming at him.
We walked over to the curbside baggage to get out of the rain and to get my license. And apparently my 45 pound bag because it was some double top secret flagged for no curb checking. Are you fucking kidding me? I started to laugh and said, “Well, as if there might have been a doubt, I am so missing this flight.”
Giggles and curses flowed. I mean, I couldn’t stop cracking up. Right about then the baggage guy told me that my flight was delayed a few moments and Delta will check bags up to 30 minutes before departure time. More laughter (and “HOT DAMN, BUBBA, I JUST MIGHT MAKE IT!” might have possibly escaped from my mouth). Then, still with a massive smile, I turned to the trooper.
“Would you be kind enough to write my expired inspection ticket quickly so that I don’t miss my flight? I’m clearly having one hell of a rainy Friday and would love to not miss this flight.”
Silence.
And more silence.
Then he cracked a smile. “I’ve never done this before, but I am only going to write you a warning. Just do me a favor and get that thing inspected before the 18th. Mail me a copy that you did. Never before have I seen someone so happy about a rainy bad day. I want you safe. Get it inspected.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Just a written warning? You might want to step back because I am seriously gonna hug you.”
Don’t know why, but I am really, really blessed. And also rather stupid because I didn’t hug the hot cop.
Oh! I made the flight and so did all of my luggage!
A few years ago I was working the same trade show that happens every early April. Incredible people. Really good and fun show. One night a ton of us were hanging out at the hotel bar, telling stories and laughing until our sides hurt. I asked one of the quickest guys who his top five famous fucks would be. (You know, if you could sleep with anyone who is a movie star, on TV, in politics, a musician, a sports star or whatever, who would they be?) So in front of a huge crowd I ask who Tim would do. His immediate response? “Mr. T, Chewbacca and the three little pigs.” Made me pee a little at the lack of hesitation.
