Thursday, December 26, 2013


We had a very Barrelassin' Christmas at my house. Food, fun, and family! Barrelassin' Momma received some special gifts that made her cry a little, but they were tears of joy. The kiddos were happy with their gifts and my mom, sister and husband all knocked it out of the park with all the great books I received! Do I go from extreme to another or what? I asked for and received Caroline Manzo's book, Let Me Tell You Something and Nikki Sixx's, The Heroin Diaries. And several more in between. They did, however, have to hook me up with a gift card for NeNe Leakes' book, Never Make the Same Mistake Twice, because they couldn't get their hands on a copy. I'll fix that! 

So anyway, don't you just love the shirt I'm wearing in this picture? Me too. Looks great on me huh? Now picture it a little later in the evening wrapped around my face with one arm stuck, half way over my head. Why you ask? Because that's what I looked like wearing it while sitting at my dining table surfing the internet and trying to make one of those smooth, quick moves that every woman has undoubtedly mastered within a year of her first time wearing a bra, to attempt to get my bra off without coming out of my shirt. It's an art. It's like our very own magic trick, and is typically an easy one. Not so much with this shirt. I know it wasn't the bra's fault- I've taken that same bra off numerous times the same way. The bra is a team player. The shirt is new, and hasn't quite learned the rules of living with me yet.

I've retraced all of my steps, and I did everything right. The shirt was definitely not cooperating. By the time it was over with, I actually felt somewhat violated. I had one arm in and one arm half out. The half arm out was stuck in an uncomfortable, not to mention unsightly position just above my head and hanging over the opposite side of my body. My hair was stuck to my face and I couldn't see a thing! I was running out of breath during the fight and my air supply was already limited at best. I even had my own hair in my mouth. 

I hadn't yet removed my false eyelashes , so when I did try to open my eyes, my lashes would rub the fabric of the shirt and try to bend backwards and stab me in the eye. I was very frustrated by the time I managed to save myself, and I'm still not quite sure how I did it. I tried to give up at one point and start over, but I never could get back to my original state. Somehow I managed to wrestle my way out just in time to actually see one of my own boobies hanging out over the top of my undershirt. It's a miracle nobody in my house witnessed this catastrophe, but to be honest, had anyone, even a stranger shown up, I would've begged them to please put an end to my misery. All the spinning in circles had made me a little dizzy and I had to get my bearings. I was exhausted!

One thing was very clear to me when I escaped...the Ultra Lite was not going to cut it; I was now going to need a stiff drink!

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Sunday, December 22, 2013


Have been waiting for this concert for months. LITERALLY! Months ago my little sister purchased tickets for me, herself, and our mother as a gift for my upcoming 40th birthday in January, since I am self-proclaimed "Keith Urban's biggest fan". The concert happens to be on January 31, 2014 (Knoxville, TN), thirteen days after my birthday, so it's perfect timing for his show to be in our area at that time. Did I say "perfect?" It is now the source of my stress headache.

Meet my son, Noah. He is a Senior in high school and has played basketball since the third grade. I am also Noah's biggest fan, naturally. I've also been awaiting Senior Night at his last regular season basketball game of his life for months ;This makes me tear up every time I think a bout it. Senior Night is a moment to be very proud of. All of the Seniors and their parents are honored together on the court during the game that night. I am very proud to be his mother :) 

I recently found out that Senior Night will be on January 31, 2014...the same night as the Keith Urban concert that we have tickets for. I felt a little pain in my heart upon hearing this news. Obviously, I would not miss my son's big night, and although years ago, I had to give up my Cheetah Girls ticket and let someone else take my daughter so that I could attend my oldest son's eighth grade championship basketball game, I think this one may leave a scar. It's not as simple as buying another ticket, for another show, in another town.So, I'm trying my very best to seek out anyone who may have tickets to another show on the tour, somewhere that I can drive to, that would be willing to trade their three tickets for my three tickets. We have pretty decent seats, and I would naturally like to trade for three equally decent seats as well. 
 Doesn't it seem ironic that as I sat wearing my son's high school basketball sweatshirt a few years ago, while I was sitting on the cold, wet ground waiting for Keith Urban to arrive and receive his star on the Walk of Fame in Nashville? A star that I drove four hours in the middle of the night with my barrelassin' momma, to see him receive?
 Who wouldn't wanna be me (pun intended) watching him accept this honor in person? I seriously doubt he's willing to return the favor by driving up to wait and watch while my son receives his his Senior plaque lol. Especially when he has a show to put on the same night. And I'm pretty sure he won't wait for me to get there since they start around the same time and I will be about an hour away :(
That's me being really happy to be there! Maybe someone will see this post and be willing to trade their three seats in their town for our three seats in our town. If everyone shared this, it would increase my extremely small odds. Keith Urban, and country music fans are the most loyal fans on the planet- I could actually make this happen if I could get the word out! Now go pass it along and help a mother out! 
contact info: or

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Thursday, December 19, 2013


Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

Well, well, well. It would be all too easy if this settled things for Phil Robertson once and for all, but it won't. And here's why. Although this is the First Amendment and every American's right, it's mostly only used by us when it's convenient to our own unique situations. Other than that, nobody really wants to hear what anyone really believes if it's different than what they believe. And pretty much it boils down to this: say whatever you want to, everyone will get mad, and the press can tell us all about it.

This is how it goes:
Person 1: I don't like the color blue.
Person 2: How dare you. You should've never said that. Blue is a beautiful color.
Person 1: You can't say that to me, because I can say whatever I want to; it's my right.
Person 2:  Well, then, you can't tell me that I can't say that to you, because it is my right to disagree with you.

And so on and so on...

I'm pretty sure you're only protected in the court of law, because in the real world, you could get your ass kicked for saying what you think. So with all of the fuss over Phil Robertson's statement in GQ magazine, let me update you in case you were on vacation to the moon yesterday-

Phil Robertson says:
"Everything is blurred on what's right and what's wrong... Sin becomes fine. Start with homosexual behavior and just morph out from there. Bestiality, sleeping around with this woman and that woman and that woman and those men, It seems like, to me, a vagina—as a man—would be more desirable than a man's anus. That's just me. I'm just thinking: There's more there! She's got more to offer. I mean, come on, dudes! You know what I'm saying? But hey, sin: It's not logical, my man. It's just not logical."

He then quotes the Bible by saying "Don't be deceived. Neither the adulterers, the idolaters, the male prostitutes, the homosexual offenders, the greedy, the drunkards, the slanderers, the swindlers" —

This is where I start having reservations about the media. Everyone is up in arms over gay rights and the freedom of speech right now. Gay is really none of my business. I couldn't care less who loves who or who is sleeping with whom. In fact, it is my policy not to judge sex that doesn't directly affect me. I have gay friends, and I can't imagine not liking them for who they are sleeping with. If I judged all of my straight friends for some of the people they have slept with or are currently sleeping with, I'm fairly certain I wouldn't have very many friends.

But what about the greedy drunkards who slander people's names and swindle one another? And I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure greed, slander, swindling, and drunk, are all associated in one way or another. Greedy people are stingy with their alcohol. Drunken people usually end up slandering someone at some point during each good drunk they pull. Swindling leads to guilt and alcoholism. And by the way, if we have freedom of speech, how can we be prosecuted for slander? Just something to think about. I have yet to see anyone stick up for them, though.  Where are all the people fighting for their rights? Perhaps they were drunk and won't know until they wake up this afternoon what has been said about them.

I would imagine somewhere in America, someone threw their beer bottle at the TV and cussed out loud, "you don't know what I've been through, you don't know me!"

And just for the record, before I start getting hate mail, I'd just like to say, I have no problems with the color Blue.

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Barrelass respoinsibly!

Wednesday, December 18, 2013


This was the topic of conversation last night while I was attempting Christmas Tree duty. And I must say that it's long overdue; I typically have the tree up and half of the Universe decorated by now. Getting back to the point, My children are fifteen and older and definitely do not believe in a real Santa Claus anymore. In other words, they know I am not actually Santa, but I do his job every year. Santa is one of the few fictional characters that exists and has the whole world working for him. 

So my Barrelassin' son was venting about whose great idea it was to leave cookies for Santa at night and then get to eat them when the children went to bed. This was definitely someone who was caught with their hand in the cookie jar by an unexpected visitor; the child they assumed was sleeping. 

I must say, we had a barrel of laughs. They even wondered why nobody ever talked about Santa and Diabetes. I was trying to put ribbon on the tree as my husband was explaining how he felt betrayed by his parents when he found out Santa wasn't real. Not so much because Santa wasn't real, but mostly because he had been lied to for so long. My guess is that he couldn't believe they had pulled one over on him ;).  I could not stop laughing. This lead to me explaining my feelings the very moment I found out Santa didn't exist. Or I guess I should say, the moment I confirmed it. I'm sure I believed in Santa one-hundred percent at some point, but as far back as I can recall the topic, I always had my suspicions. 

I always had some doubt that there was actually a jolly man traveling the entire world in one night delivering gifts to everyone. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to believe so badly. I literally remember hoping so bad that Santa was real, but I was not convinced; the evidence was really stacked against Santa. For instance, why on Earth would Santa hide my presents in my mom's closet, only to return and wrap them, pack them up all over again, and deliver them through the chimney that we didn't even have? That seems like a lot of work, and even I could see what a mismanagement of time that was. And nobody who tried to convince me could ever seem to look me in the eye and answer my Santa questions. I was like a prosecutor I imagine. Like when me and my mom were walking down a sidewalk one night and she tried to get me to watch for Santa's sleigh in the sky. I really think she was just trying to get me to shut up by giving me something to focus on. And I suspected that then, but she had also just explained to me that there was no thirteen o'clock, so I couldn't be sure yet. I was not in school yet, and I can't say what age I was when I was given a solid answer on the matter, but I know it was before the age of nine, because by that time, I wanted a stereo for Christmas, and me and Barrelassin' cousin waited patiently to the end of the gift opening session to for those stereos. We didn't really care about no fake Santa, we wanted to rock n' roll! 

My confirmation of Santa being a fictional character was probably much different than many others. I recall my very first feeling being a little hopeful. I was like, if Santa isn't real, and the Easter Bunny isn't real (I don't ever remember actually falling for that crap. I played along, but I can't actually remember ever buying that load of eggs) then...maybe the booger man and the Devil/Satan wasn't real either!! Oh this was going to be great! Finally, I could tell a lie or act out without that fear in the back of my mind of going to Hell!

I asked my mother if he was, indeed, fictional as well, and she explained to me that one was real and there was no way around it. Are you kidding me?? What kind of world were we living in? A world where all the nice, fun people were made up stories, but the bad guy, the most terrifying guy, was the real one? This was not good. You see, I don't remember being upset at all that Santa didn't exist, besides, now I could tell my mother what I wanted for Christmas with confidence and not have to worry that my list was being left in the hands of a busy stranger in a red suit, that may have other children's best interest in mind over mine.

 My entire memory about it is being more disturbed that Satan really did exist and the fact that I had had a hunch all along about Santa, but now I could say "I knew it! I told you so! I was right all along! I was right. Do you hear me world? I was right!!"  And that was the important thing.

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Tuesday, December 17, 2013


This list does not include all of the wonderful things I would do for charity and the needs of humanity. That's just a given.

 1) I'll buy an island for luxury vacations and private parties. On second thought, no private parties; what fun would it be if I owned my own island and couldn't show it off to people who were obviously not invited? I will call it Barrelassin' Isle.

2) Buy Miley Cyrus some pants. Every time I see her lately, she's wearing her underwear. 
3) Buy Bethenny Frankel's friendship. She already owns all the alcohol. Besides, I'm going to need it for all the parties I'm going to throw on Barrelassin' Isle.

4) Travel the globe with V.I.P. passes to all the 80's hair bands' concerts. Kind of like a groupie, except I won't have to sleep with any of them. I will be the one with all the money, so they'll have to have tickets to my after party.

5) Launch my very own Parachute Pants line...well...just because I could.

Enjoy, Barrelassers :) $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Thursday, December 12, 2013


Sometimes when Barrelassin' Papa says "get in the car, it's time to go" he means right now.
                                      Wait! I must put on one more dab of mascara!
Great! Now I have to fix my hair again...

Wednesday, December 11, 2013


This picture is too great not to share. My Barrelassin' son has been putting this headband on lately to make me laugh. I've been daring him to wear it into different places, but he won't. I snapped this picture after he put it on and received a phone call right after, so I caught him off guard, which made it even better. My husband is having a great time with it, adding Chuck Norris to the mix was a pretty good one.

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)


                                               BEFORE                        AFTER
These are before and after photos of my Barrelassin' husband's employee Christmas party last night.
Well, technically, they are in between and after photos. Because before either of these looks, I had a 
towel wrapped around me trying not to get my fake tan on my furniture as I added fake fingernails and fake eyelashes to the real me. This "before" look in the photo shown took up a lot of my day. The after...not so much. I'd love to know how you crazy kids take these mirror photos so effortlessly considering it took my five tries to get my face in the picture. But we'll save that for another day. 

There's nothing like doing the walk of shame in last night's party dress. Even though my husband explained to me that it's not the walk of shame; we are a married couple. Well, tell that to the hotel maintenance men standing in the parking garage on their smoke break while I strut my stuff to my car; my eyelashes now in my evening clutch, mascara on all the wrong places of my face, wearing a pair of hooker heels at ten a.m.- I had the good sense to go out wearing my husband's long coat, rather than my short fancy fur, but upon walking by the hotel staff, I quickly realized I looked like I was about to take off streaking (as in: to rapidly flash) all the way to my car; due to the over-sized trench coat making it appear that it was possibly the only thing I was wearing. 

My husband mentioned that it may be too late to get actual breakfast food; as if I was going out to breakfast with my new look. Honestly, I had been thinking about a cheeseburger since very late the night before when I raided the hotel vending machine settling for a bag of Cheeze-Its and a bag of plain Lays, so a drive-thru meal was perfect for me.

I keep using the word "hotel" when I should probably paint the picture a little clearer. I would say it was more along the lines of a "Motel" which, somehow makes my appearance leaving seem a little more likely that I was, in fact, a "lady of the night" that my husband had called up and paid at the end of a wild night. Can you imagine if that had actually been the case? How horrified would he have been when he woke up to see me with all my falseness on the nightstand and previously white sheets now perfectly, fake tanned? Oh well, it always starts out pretty doesn't it? (Shaking my head.)

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Tuesday, December 3, 2013


Myth: saying "uncle" will make it stop. I've been saying "uncle" for the better part of the week and I haven't noticed any major changes. In fact, things got worse before they got better, then worse again.

A little over a week ago, my horoscope advised me to not make any financial decisions on that particular day...I just couldn't listen. Immediately after reading it, I thought about the fact that I was about to deliberately disobey the Universe by sitting down with a package of Senior photo proofs and a calculator to begin the daunting game of 'How many people want a picture of my son, the Senior?' Here's a cheat-sheet for anyone about to play that same game:

                                                            ^      ^
                                          Grandparents      Grandparents
                                             one photo           one photo
                                                   ^                       ^
                               Can show to everyone      Can show to everyone
                               One large photo of each proof to display all over the walls

                                                None-doesn't even like pictures
                                                You really only need three photos
                                                Grand Total: Your life savings

There, now save yourself the trouble of all the counting and thinking. And whatever you do, do not think with the tip of the pen in your mouth and end up like me. In my case the photos are also costing the price of one porcelain crown. Yes, chewing on the tip of a pen broke the tip of my tooth. Or should I say the other side of my tooth?

Technically, if we go back about four years- two days before my wedding I had a dentist appointment that I kept. Everyone wants to have pretty, white teeth on their wedding day. The day before my wedding I spent a wonderful day with all the girls in my bridal party and my mother, getting our nails done together. It was so relaxing. When we were finished I rode with one of my Barrelassin' friends and picked up the rest of the flowers for the wedding. Everything was perfect, until that moment where I bit into my very first french-fry out of the box and accidentally bit my new thumbnail that I wasn't accustomed to having, and chipped a small piece of my tooth and spit it into my hand. I almost couldn't not laugh at the irony that I had just been to the dentist the day before and now here I was with a broken tooth. It was the weekend and there was nothing I could do about it but laugh...oh wait, then it hit me, while getting our nails done, I had forgotten to pick up one last tux that had to be re-altered and now the place was closed and wouldn't be open the next day. Now I cried. I couldn't stop crying, but then the business remembered and re-opened their store and called me to come and get it, blah, blah, blah.

 Anyway, I had a chip on my tooth, which is very different from having a chip on your shoulder. You can fix the chip on your shoulder yourself for free. Since I hate having dental work done, I left the small chip on my tooth and have been living happily ever after until this week, which takes me all the way back to the beginning of this story where I started in the first place.

Now I have a chip on each side of that same tooth and my teenage children are calling me "Shark-tooth." I am not offended. We laugh and laugh, but it still looks ridiculous. I've been running around crazy this week cooking Thanksgiving dinner, going to doctor's appointments, scheduling my daughter's Tonsillectomy, along with a few other highs and lows, and then I woke up this  morning- which was a miracle in and of itself given the week I've been having and began to work on a computer project that nearly brought me to tears. Oh, who am I kidding, it actually did bring me to tears.

I decided I would be a strong woman (I was watching Bethenny Frankel's talk show, so I was very determined) and headed to the kitchen to refresh my drink and grab a snack. Did I mention that I walked into a flooded kitchen? Well I did. The washer was leaking again. My husband just fixed it recently and it has been working great, until today when it went for a swim.

While using the shop-vac to suck up the lake, I had plenty of time to think about the fact that I now needed a tooth, Senior pictures, a washing machine, a yearbook and to make the final payments on all of the other necessary paper products required to graduate...all three weeks before Christmas and I've only crossed off one gift on the list.

Now I have a chip on my shoulder.

Bah Humbug!

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)




Saturday, November 30, 2013


Did you attend a Black Friday sales event and live to tell about it? Did you get all the cookware you needed? And if so, how many people did you have dropkick for it? I have to wonder on a day like today, a.k.a. the morning after- how many waffle irons were ripped from the hands of perfect strangers in an effort for someone to be named the Waffle King at home. Did someone you know want a waffle iron so badly that you actually planned it all out, and were you one-hundred percent devoted to kicking the ass of an elderly woman to make sure she didn't steal it right out from under you?

I didn't attempt Black Friday this year; not because I don't love a good shoving match, because I do, but because we actually had a second Thanksgiving dinner to eat and that family time was more important to me that the flat screen TV deals being advertised.

Two years ago on Thanksgiving, my family was driving back from Georgia to Tennessee after filling our bellies with all the turkey you could wish for, when my husband and I decided we wouldn't have enough time to get back home and get back out to the sales. We then chose to stop off in a random town with a Walmart and kick it into high gear. The kids were not fools, but they tried to play along for a brief moment when I told them that I had agreed to make the purchases for my Barrelassin' best friend so that her kids wouldn't know what they were getting for Christmas. I told them that in exchange she had agreed to go make my purchases as well. This was probably one of my dumber plots or schemes while Christmas shopping, but it was literally the only scenario I could come up with.

They thought I was real funny until about three hours into the whole plan and two of them were sleeping in the car in a Walmart parking lot and the youngest of the three was standing in line with a ticket waiting for her own Christmas Wii to be available for purchase- while I sat on a box containing a microwave or something, I'm not sure what it was; we weren't buying it, just using it as a seat.

Meanwhile I had to keep checking in on my husband who was making fast friends with all the other shoppers he was waiting with for flat screen TV's. Our biggest dilemma was how to get the Wii, two TV's and still make it over to the stacks of discounted bath towels before they were gone.  I can go ahead and tell you that by the time my daughter and I maneuvered our way through the stampede of people, those bath towels were a thing of the past. We settled for some sort of electric, scented candles that someone told us were normally double the price and a picture frame. Total score!

In the end, I'm thankful for all of the family time I've been blessed with over the past two days and I didn't even have to beat anyone's ass or fight for any of it. I would say that's a win,win.

Now I may have a black and blue December trying to get my hands on whatever Christmas presents I can between now and Christmas- but by hell I had two days of turkey and family to be thankful for.

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Sunday, November 24, 2013


You know those days when you find bruises randomly scattered about your body and you have no idea where they came from? Yesterday was one of those days for me. I noticed two, what looked to be strategically placed bruises on the front of my right thigh. One right above the other. Had I been beaten? No. That doesn't seem very logical. Had I been drinking and just couldn't recall what had happened to my leg? Now that seems logical! But I hadn't been drinking so I simply couldn't blame it on the alcohol.

Horseback riding, Whitewater rafting, mountain climbing, Salsa dancing, Tumbling, or Football? Nope! Mosh Pit? Hell no! I haven't learned any new physically challenging skills and yet I have the bruises to show for it. I know my husband would say that it's because I'm "Lucy" like he always says, but I don't think it would be too much to just consider the fact, for one moment in time, that maybe, just maybe, I'm thorough. I do not know what I've done. I do not know why I have these unsightly bruises on my leg, but I think it's more important to see the whole underlying picture here.

I may not have a single clue that leads me to the little answers, but it's perfectly clear to me, that whatever the hell I've done, once wasn't good enough. I did it, and apparently backed up and did it again just to be sure I got it right.

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Tuesday, November 19, 2013


Do you know that feeling when you're shopping for groceries and you're really not keeping an accurate count, you're just getting what you need while trying not to break the bank? Well, unless you're rich, of course you do. Here's the thing, there are certain things that absolutely have to be name brand products in my house. Not because we're poor snobs, and not because we care what anyone else thinks; believe me, we don't. But there are a few items that we can definitely tell the difference in the taste. Hell, there's actually some off brand products that we prefer the taste over the name brand.

Anyway, where was I going with this? Oh yeah, a lot of the items offer the lower price with the store's loyalty card and who can argue with that? Especially when you can earn fuel bucks for gas visits! So the problem is, well, the problem is that me and my barrelassin' husband are nuts. We go barrelassin' through the grocery store, trying to get what we need and get out without taking out a second mortgage on our home or having a stroke. Both would make us very bitter people.

So we go through all of this, always pretending our budget is a lower number than it is, so that we don't have to add heart attack to the previous list when we are given a final total by the cashier, and then knowing the whole time that we have invented a fake number so we can go over anyway. I told you, we're nuts and I haven't even told you the craziest part of our shopping trip.

We reach the check out lane, we start placing the items on the revolving black belt- always in perfect order, by categories, like all the cold together, the meat, the cheeses, the cupped containers of cold items, the boxes, the cans, the jars, the paper products and household products, all so that it will be bagged together the appropriate way. Okay, he probably doesn't put as much effort into that as I do, maybe it's just me, but it's not difficult to do, so it's not like I'm spending a lot of time on this procedure.

Anyway, here's where we unite; we become a team, one-hundred percent, no questions asked. As we start piling out groceries up there, an unsuspecting cashier asks if we have a Value Card and here's where we sock it to them. "Ummm, yes, I will just have to dig it out. One of us pretends to search for it as the other one completes the loading of the groceries. We don't rotate or anything, it just works itself out depending on who is standing where or the situation. Clearly the cashier isn't going to wait until our stupid butts find out card, so he/she continues ringing us up, and wouldn't ya just know it, right about the time they swipe the last item, we find our discount loyalty card. Why? Other than because we're stupid? Because it's more fun. We like it so much better when we see the discount taken off at the end of the sale. My husband always does thing where he grabs his heart like the total is going to kill him, and then he hands over the card. Only in our minds do we hear an actual drum roll as we see the card swiped, in slow motion of course, just for the effect, and then the real total after all discounts is revealed and we can smile and laugh and be jolly. This is how we get our adrenaline rush. This is our version of jumping out of a plane I guess.

I had a cashier tell me one time, not because of anything I was doing, just in conversation,  that the computer works faster or something if the card is read first. We don't care, it will just have to cost everyone involved a few extra seconds so we won't have to go sky-diving.

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Wednesday, November 13, 2013


(1997-our 23rd birthday party)
The party planning is underway and in full swing! Me and the girls have been planning our fortieth birthday for months, and we're getting closer to the big day. The countdown is on. We have booked the location, had a great cake designed,and sent invitations; Facebook invitations that is. Which is how I got here today.

What are the rules for social media invitations? What are the pros and cons? Well if you really wanna know, I'm your girl.

Pro: It can save time and money.
Con: It can save time and money. In most cases, "you get what you pay for" is a very true statement. Whether you're paying with your time or with your money.

Pro: It allows you to reach people you may not otherwise be able to reach. It can still be time consuming when you're really into it, but it's definitely a great way to find and reach people you would like to invite.

Con: A lot of people do not even read event invites from other people on Facebook. Even worse- a lot more people automatically assume it's some sort of game invitation and delete it without ever even opening it.

Pro: When answered truthfully, it's a great way to keep track of attendance all in one place, at the touch of a button.

Con: People aren't always truthful. I''m finding out that people don't always answer honestly. For example, when I receive an invitation on Facebook, I try to answer as soon as I know something. If I know for sure I'm, planning on attending, I will confirm. If I am unable to determine that I can definitely show up- I will  respond by using the 'maybe' option. If I know that I definitely will not be available, I will decline the invitation and reply with a simple answer such as, 'I would love to be there, but blah, blah, blah (insert reason for knowing why I absolutely can't make it.) And if I simply don't want to go- I usually don't go into much detail, but try to at least thank the person who sent it for thinking of me.

My own son told me that he always answers 'maybe' even if he knows he's not going, just to make people feel better. Another Facebook friend told me in private that not only is he NOT coming to our party, but he answered 'yes' to show his support. So how do we accurately plan a party for a certain number of people, and how do we distinguish the real guests from the sympathy guests? Your guess is as good as mine. But we're planning for the best, hoping for the greatest, and we may be actually planning our very own surprise party due to the fact that we don't know who is actually attending. I like surprises anyway- as long as I'm dressed for it!

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Thursday, November 7, 2013

Eddie Van Halen talks to girlfriend (6 PACK)

Wednesday, November 6, 2013


Okay, so I'm hearing a lot of different opinions about the Eric Church performance and some others. I personally loved it. I love country music, but I still like to rock out, too. The thing is, Nashville and country music is very accepting with open arms (at least that's what they would have us believe.) I agree that country has gotten a lot edgier, but it's clearly where the money is and where the most loyal fans are. 

And all of the country singers I'm sure enjoy a good jam as well. Some of these artists would have nowhere else to go and have their music heard if it were not for country radio. Their only other option would be to try gangsta rap. They may enjoy a little rap, but they want to actually play music and sing, not be rappers. And the only other place to hear upbeat music is on classic rock stations with no new stuff. 

P.S. I have never heard a Kenny Rogers song that I didn't like. When me and April White-Ownby were given guitars in the first grade and taken to weekly lessons, I was so angry that he wouldn't teach me Lucille first. He thought I should learn Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. This is why I can't play guitar- I said I'd just quit and I did, besides, I couldn't stretch my fingers like that anyway! That being said...Kenny Rogers...some things I can never un-see, so please stop doing that to your face. 

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)


The next time someone tells you, "ain't nobody got time for dat!" call bullshit. I have been up since 7:15 a.m.- I have filled my belly, had a very lengthy telephone conversation with my Barerlassin' bestie, I have greeted a man with a truckload of gravel for my driveway and watched him unload it, I have had several other shorter phone conversations...

I have taken photos of the gravel and shared them. I have loaded the dishwasher. I have read the same, HILARIOUS story twice just for the laugh, and now this...somehow I found the time to sign into my email account with the sole purpose of sending my husband an attachment he wanted me to send him, saw an article on my homepage about Jennifer Aniston cutting her hair and felt the need to see it. Not only did I click on the link- I sat through a thirty second ad and waited for a video of  a woman explaining all of Jennifer's hair phases through the years before revealing to me that I would have to go to another website to see the photo of the new cut! I was so pissed! I sat through all of that for her to send me on a wild goose chase just see Jennifer Aniston's new haircut! What kind of fool does this lady think I am?

Well, I'll tell ya what kind of fool I am- I actually took the time to type in another web address in order to take a look. I searched the site until I found it, too! Imagine my surprise when I didn't really see a big difference. I mean, yeah, it's shorter- but it's not really a look I haven't seen on her before. For all I know it could have been an old picture. Maybe it was old- I would have to find out. There's only one way to do that, and that's to Google Jennifer Aniston's new hair cut. So I did. I see tons of pictures, all looking basically the same as one time or another. Don't get me wrong, I like the haircut. I think it's cute. It's one that I have been considering myself, but don't know how well equipped I am for drastic change. Maybe we'll see.

Basically what I've learned about time management today is that you can find the time to get important things done if you really want to. Like going to great lengths to seek out Jennifer Aniston's hair and taking time to blog about it. All you have to do is keep Bethenny Frankel on pause for two hours and THEN realize you still haven't made it around to sending your husband that attachment! Oh crap! I got way off track! I gotta go!

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)
P.S. Sorry- I don't have time to upload a pic of the new hair, you'll have to find time for that yourselves!

Thursday, October 31, 2013



This has to be one of my most favorite Halloween costumes from my childhood! Yep- me and some of my Barrelassin' cousins were Giant Kooky Spooks. I don't know what  a Kooky Spook is- but it was fantastic!. I can still remember the smell of the face paint and the blow up head. I know I wasn't more than five years old and it's still the costume that stands out in my mind the most.

My little Paul Stanley, Gene Simmons and Princess! This is one of my favorite Halloween costumes that my kids wore. They would've never settled for a blowup  head! They're almost grown now and it's all about hanging out with friends. I noticed I didn't get invited to hang out or cruise town with any of them tonight. This is proof that they once loved their mother ;)

This is my silly Pimp. My kids have a mind of their own. Let's just say I should be thankful that he's far too busy with his homies to be reading this right now. 
Yes- my Barrelassin' son went as White Trash for Halloween one year. If you tell me you want to be "white trash" for Halloween- I will buy you a trash can and pile trash around you. I'm a good mommy.
My very own Halloween Asian girl. I'm so glad we got a good picture before her eyelashes fell off and her chopsticks stopped cooperating in her hair. She would never do this now,so this is how I get even. ;)

Who says Unicorns aren't real? I've always know that my Barrelassin' hubby was magical. 
This was a fun Halloween at my mom's house. She is not only a Good Witch- she's a great Witch! My Barrelassin' sister is the cutie next to me, the Cowgirl. As far as the two fingers photo bombing the photo, I can't give them credit, because I don't know who they are- but they're rockin' it!

Trick or Treat, Barrelassers- be safe, enjoy :)

Tuesday, October 29, 2013


When my husband recently suggested to our twenty year old son that he may actually be digressing, I thought it sounded silly. He has met with The National Guard recently and has his ASVAB scheduled, and is looking into college through the Military. But this, could be a clue.

I'm smack-dab in the middle of re-arranging  some things in the house and I thought I would take a look at my son's desk.

 Clue #1) The desk is sitting in the middle of his room and used to pile clothes on. I told my son I wanted to look at it to see if I got an excited feeling when I looked at it. If so, I may want to use it. If not...I would leave it. After I looked at it, my son brought up something he had discussed with me awhile back.

 Clue #2) Not so long ago he told me that pretty soon he plans to turn his room into a construction zone and not let anyone else in to see until his project was complete.

 Clue #3) His project could not be built anywhere else and brought into the room- it was too big and had to be built inside the room.

Clue #4) He never started the project.

 Today he decided to indulge me with all of the details surrounding his "one upon a time project." He told me that he had originally planned to build a platform for his King Size bed. He wanted to build it about five feet high. Underneath the bed would be all the free space he needed for other things he wanted for his room. Also- there would be a curtain to open and close so that no one could see this "free space" underneath the bed. It was then that I put all the clues together and said to my son, "so, you want to build a fort?" He tried to explain why it wasn't a fort, but trust me, it had all the makings of a fort.

Now I have it all figured out. My son isn't joining the Military for a good job and college. My son is joining the Military because they build cooler forts.

 Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Monday, October 28, 2013


Once upon a time, in a land far, far away,(by "far away" I mean about about twenty two years ago, which would make me seventeen years old) my Barrelassin' cousin and I were mechanics (by "mechanics" I mean "no we were not.") We were definitely not mechanics, but that would've been cool. In fact, it would've been great considering the amount of time we spent under the hood of a car.

My Barrelassin' aunt left town with her husband for a very lengthy road trip, and her two daughters stayed behind with me and Momma. We had full use of their vehicle while they were away, a choice they probably weren't  too happy with upon their return home, but the damage was done- no turning back.

I can't tell you a big long story about what happened to this car in the first place, besides the fact that it turned into our traveling closet; we had clothes for every occasion covering the backseat of this car. We were never without what we needed to keep us rollin'. We barrelassed all over town in that car. Anyway- at some point the car needed repairs and our two dollars were not going to be enough to take care of the problems. Lucky for us we didn't need to do anything. There was the other daughter, and she had a boyfriend who knew a thing or two about cars and was more than willing to repair the car for us. Don't ask me what he did, I do not know the answer. I only know that whatever he did turned us into mech-ani-acs.

This is a play by play of what it took for us to leave the driveway in the car.

Lift the hood
Take two spliced wires and connect them to one another. At this point we would hear the fan.
Close the hood- start the car.

This was during daylight hours. When it would start to get dark, we would pull over somewhere and lift the hood and connect another set of spliced wires. This would make the headlights work. Now- the catch to the whole thing was that, the second set of wires- the ones that made the lights work, had to be connected in order for the radio to work. So if we wanted to listen to the radio we had to drive around in broad daylight with the lights on (way before daytime running lights where lights were always on) and every person we passed would flash their lights at us to let us know our "headlights were literally...on." The even bigger problem was that the lights only worked on bright. So, not only did people flash at us all day, now we were cruising town with everyone flashing their lights at us, because we were now bright-lighting them. Anytime we parked the car, we had to lift the hood, disconnect all the Frankenstein wires and go about our business. It was a vicious circle.

After a few encounters with guys approaching us to see if we needed help, we quickly learned to use this to our advantage. We were not dummies. Not most of the time anyway. When we saw the attention it brought every time we raised the hood of that car, it became a tool. A tool we used to meet guys we wanted to meet. We would cruise around town, wherever the cute guys were and wherever they were turning around or hanging out, is where we would drive the car to and lift the hood and try to look as confused as possible. "What in the world is wrong with our car? What could be going wrong here?" Worked like a charm- EVERY SINGLE TIME!

We were experts! We knew exactly what guys we wanted to help us and precisely where to park that car, and the precise moment to park it there to get their attention. The real problem was that none of them ever had a clue what was wrong or what to do. That was a good stall that gave us time for the perfect amount of conversation and time for plenty of hair-flipping moments. The best part was the moment we knew we no longer wanted to talk to some of the guys- we would instantly look like a genius, declaring, "I think I will put these two wires together, and then these two and see what happens" and the car would start, we'd say a quick "thanks for your concern" and speed off to "fake break down" in front of some other guys that we deemed a better choice. The downside...some guys spent the whole time actually mystified trying to figure out what was wrong with the car and left no time for small talk with us, and even if we wanted to talk to the chosen ones, there came a time where we had to become mechanics in a nonchalant way and fix the car ourselves, leaving a lot of guys scratching their heads and probably feeling like fools.

These memories are so funny to me, but when I think of them, I have to wonder...did we have a "bright idea" or did the two of us have a couple of "loose wires?"

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Saturday, October 26, 2013


Have yourself a merry little No, really- I mean it, NOW, because Christmas is waiting and it's not being patient.

I'm hearing about and seeing a lot of Halloween and Christmas decorations everywhere at the same time. I've seen some complaints about it. Where do I stand on this topic? Hmm- well, I don't really care all that much. Halloween is really just a gateway drug to a Turkey and a Ham for me. I can buy candy all year long, so I'm really not worried that it's going anywhere. More and more the average person looks like they're dressed for Halloween on a daily basis, and pairing that with the fact that I'm too scared to go around scared all month, takes the actual "problem" off the table for me. It is, however, the only day acceptable to go door to door and expect complete strangers to give you candy, but I've covered all that in an earlier post and I personally, haven't tricked the hell out of anyone in a long time , so maybe I'll switch it up a little this year. BEWARE!!! There- that's my Halloween spooky voice to kick things off.

In all seriousness, I love Christmas decorations so I wouldn't be at all opposed to the stores selling them all year long. And I'm not talking about those Christmas only stores where a glass ball with a hook costs more than the tree I plan to hang it from. Perhaps Walmart could have a Christmas section for the entire year. I do agree that it looks quite odd and ridiculous to have an inflatable Santa in one yard with a giant pumpkin in the yard next door. It's not the store's fault. Probably as a courtesy, they begin the sale of Christmas items so the consumer can get a head start on the most expensive holiday. I would guess they didn't take into consideration the dumb-asses who can't come together and decide on an appropriate time to coordinate the holidays and it's decorations. The transition from the Orange Fall, the candy bar and a Turkey to the Red & White Winter and a tree in your house is not an easy one for some people.

I believe it was an unwritten rule at one time that Thanksgiving, was the appropriate time to start the Winter and Christmas decorating, but I suppose since it's not even Halloween day yet and I'm freezing my rear end off, it could pass for Winter. It doesn't really matter anyway- I have one strand of icicle lights still hanging from my house and one upper portion of a window covered in fake snow leftover from last Christmas- I guess I jumped the gun on Christmas ten months ago.

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Friday, October 25, 2013


My husband is officially home after the meeting/conference over the last week and I can finally pull my head out from under the covers. My butt and feet temperature are returning to normal and my children's attempts to kill me or drive me to the brink of insanity, probably so that they could keep the car as late as they want until my husband returned- have failed. I survived hell week.

My daughter has announced that she is, in fact, dating a senior, but that's a fairly easy fix. Seniors have cars and like to go places. Freshmen do not have cars and aren't allowed to ride in cars with boys, so this should all work itself out as far as I'm concerned.

My oldest son took the car to a meeting with The National Guard and once again started talking responsibly. He told me I was lucky that he's interested in The National Guard, because now that means he can't start using steroids- so basically, he threw me a bone, thanks kiddo!

My younger son hasn't caused a single problem all week and to honest, I thought he would be the one, but he switched it up on me and was the most responsible person in our home this week. I feel as though he picked up on my malfunctioning brain due to his brother and sister and he, too, threw me a bone- and that's something to be very thankful for!!

Even the dog tried to act up while my husband was gone, but he's all cool now that daddy is home. However, I'm pretty sure I heard him whispering "mommy's crazy" into my husband's ear, but maybe I'm just being paranoid and delusional- he could have been saying something else I suppose.

Now to get things back on track- my daughter is face painting at the Halloween carnival this evening and I think we'll go hang around and act like a normal family, like daddy-o was never gone.

Now just one thing I'm mulling over today. A friend of mine asked me to come and hold her hand this evening while she gets her first tattoo. I had to decline due to the carnival, but told her I would be there in spirit, which has left me pondering- what the hell does that even mean? I'm not going to be there; she's not going to feel like I'm there or pretend that I'm there, and I'm certainly not going to pretend that I'm there, so what the hell good does it do her if I tell her I will be there in spirit? The last time I heard, spirits were what are known as ghosts. Am I haunting my friend this evening? And would anyone actually want someone's spirit with them while they had a tattoo needle grinding into their back? I'm pretty sure my dear friend would rather I kept my spirit- ass away from her while she gets inked so therefore, I am doing her a huge favor.

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Monday, October 21, 2013


Day two of my husband being away for business has shaped itself right into, well, let's just say...STICK A FORK IN MY EYE! Today, my oldest son was the first one to catch a ride on the crazy train and, instead of allowing me to smile and wave as he went- he tied me to the side of the train and drug me along the side as he went on and on about how he should probably start taking steroids, because- he's twenty years old and has no desire to look fifteen for the rest of his life. HA! Tell me that shit when you're forty and you look forty, kiddo!

He does this sometimes. It starts off completely innocent and even went as far today to  laugh and tell me he mostly does it to get me all worked up and to make me mad. But then...he latches on when I try to tell him how stupid that would be and how dangerous it is- he then tries to explain to me how, although he's not actually planning to do steroids, I have no idea what I'm talking about. What sort proof do I have that steroids have ever actually been linked to someone ending up dead or with any kind of health problems?

His theory is that nobody ever hears anything bad about steroids until someone does something bad and happens to be using steroids, so everyone blames the actions on steroid use. He also informed me, quite confidently that, "this is not 1902 where people are just mindlessly putting stuff into their bodies without knowing the proper way to use it." I must say, I instantly agreed with him. He's right about one thing. It's not 1902, and as a mother, I had to remind him that it is, in fact, 2013, where people are eating bath salts, and seem to be okay with mindlessly putting that into their bodies.

Once my headache set in good, I dropped him off with his brother to play basketball while I took my daughter to get that makeup she so desperately needed and to get some groceries. Just in case you can't sense my level of frustration, let me give you a list of what I ended up with...keep in mind, I wasn't there to grab a couple of things- I needed serious groceries.

Not counting my daughter's makeup...

Laundry detergent
Dish Soap
Shampoo and Conditioner
Stain Remover
1 bag of Chicken Nuggets
1 box of Ramen Noodles
1 can of Chicken Noodle Soup
4 Hot Pockets
8 baby red potatoes
1 box of waffles
2 bottles of Dr. Pepper (the real kind-not the usual, Dr. Topper)

If the items in the bag were any indication- we'd be having some sort of soap for dinner. My brain hurt so bad that I had no clue what I wanted to buy. All the time I was supposed to be going over it in my head was already spent discussing steroids. It reminded me of when we first got into the car and as my son grabbed the radio dial I said, "please, just wait, give me a moment." He shot back with, "what's wrong with you that you can't turn on the radio as soon as we get into the car anyway? What is so important on your mind that you can't hear music?" I tried explaining that what I was thinking was:

Where in the hell is the dog? Why has he been gone so long and what will happen to him if I leave without finding him and the little screwball has to stay outside until we return?
What do I need from the grocery store?
Do I have my phone?
Where is my purse? Oh good there it is; did I put my money in there before I carried it out of the house?
Is the guy delivering gravel to our driveway still going to show up today?
If I leave our tiny dog out, and the gravel guy shows up- will he see him and not run him over with the truck?
When is my husband coming home?
Come to think of it, every time he leaves without me, a dog either runs away or gets hit by a car. We only have one dog this time, no spare- so this can't be happening.
What is that thumping? For the love of GOD, PLEASE turn that radio off for one solid minute while I clear my head!!!

That's what's wrong with me. That's what I'm thinking, all at once. And if that's not enough- I'm about to leave two boys together in a public place on a basketball court, that once called the police on each other over a single chicken nugget before I could get home from work after the school bus had dropped them off. Yes- it was a long time ago, yes- they were a lot younger then; but you don't forget that shit easy. It's right there with you as you drive away from them.

Time for bed- my daughter wants me to bring her a towel...right this minute, and thinks I should know that her frog is going to need more water in it's tank. My youngest son wants my daughter to get out of the bathroom so he can shower. My husband is on the phone wanting to speak with me and I don't know what room my oldest son disappeared to, but I know that stupid PS3 is on in the living room unattended, playing the same tune over and over and over!

Oh yeah, and I had a can of Ravioli for breakfast and a snack wrap for lunch/dinner- but clearly, I only think of myself. My daughter just came in here and told me how SHE'S running on three hours of sleep, and I think she was wanting sympathy from me. I can't tell anymore??

These are grown children, people!! And you thought toddlers were assholes...

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)


Sunday, October 20, 2013


Well this week started off all wrong. It started yesterday for me, which is a pretty bad sign considering yesterday was technically still a part of last week.

My husband is away on business. Not very far from home, thankfully, but still...away. I knew this wasn't going to be good for my health because, even though I know I am perfectly capable of holding down the fort- somewhere in the back of my mind I've convinced myself that I will not be able to function without him, which really translates into I'm just a big baby who knows how much she will miss her husband.  Now, the worst part is...he's actually still in the same town, but the almost week long meeting requires the company to stay at the same place and attend the activities planned. Oh wait, that's not the worst part at all...

My Barrelassin' husband had not even been home from work yesterday to pack his bag before my daughter, a high school freshman, was already trying to go on  a date with a senior football player. Just in case my memory of that age had failed me, I reminded myself that my youngest son IS a high school senior football player and his sole focus is not the well being of freshman girls, except for maybe the one he's dating, talk about ironic, and my daughter has no business being left in the hands of such young men. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with this young man- I'm saying that boys his age don't typically tend to want to date a girl for her brains. In turn, this also means that he knows how to pick them, since she is currently displaying herself as someone who has completely lost her mind.

I had barely finished out the evening sending my husband off and feeling sorry for myself- moping around while trying to explain to her why dating a senior was unacceptable to me, when she messaged me from her bedroom, through social media and, very enthusiastically, said to me, "Let's get my bellybutton pierced!!" I may be way off base here, but I swear it feels a lot like my daughter was trying to see if she could give me a stroke before midnight. At this point, I'd rather turn back into a pumpkin-just carve a smile on my face and leave me be. And please don't do a hack job on me.

If the first evening was any indication to where the rest of this week is headed, I'm in big trouble. Right now we're aimed straight for the gutter, but if I can manage to stay strong, without having a stroke, I could get this train back on the right track. Even my oldest son asked my daughter what the heck happened to her at school yesterday. Then she pulled the smart card and reminded him that it was Saturday. Everything went foggy for only a second before I found a way to turn it around and use it against her. Ignoring the fact that my son didn't even know what day of the week it was, I found an "I'm smarter card" down deep within me and suggested that with all of her poor judgement yesterday- we should consider sending her to school on Saturdays as well. I can work on my son's day and time management next week, right now I have to focus on being Super Mom to a daughter who's got a pocket full of Kryptonite and is clearly not afraid to use it.

Today I feel like I have a massive hangover and I have absolutely no weird cellphone pictures or empty bottles to show for it. I'm creeping around my daughter trying not to make eye contact today, in case she really is trying to kill me. We've made it to early afternoon and she hasn't stolen my car or anything, but I'm bracing myself for her to announce that she's a pregnant stripper who ran away to live the life of her dreams in Vegas and now needs bail money and a plane ticket home since it didn't work out, by the end of the week. She just came in here and spoke to me directly- I was a little scared at first, but it tuns out all she wants is to go shopping for all new makeup. No doubt about it- she must want to join the circus.

And as far as my senior son dating a freshman girl- I'm not her parent. As far as I know their outings together have been to church.Wait a this Karma catching up to me so I can walk a mile in her parents' shoes? Oh man, please pray for my well-being and pray that my husband returns with my other glass slipper, and for the love of GOD...please let it fit!

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Saturday, October 19, 2013


Well-I've gone and done it now. I dusted the coffee table and end table. Let the sneezing begin. I don't know why I'm surprised; well, I'm not really, it's just that you'd think by now I'd have a plan in place. Like maybe...moving every time the house has to be dusted, or at least leaving the house until a team of dusters has come in and made it a dust-free home. It's not even like I swept; I was too afraid of the wrath of the dust-mite.

It never fails and it's a vicious circle. If I don't dust or sweep, well then... I'm rewarded with itchy, watery eyes, ears, nose and throat- and a sneezing fit that can be compared to ninja seizures 2.5 seconds apart. Since that's not a real thing, let me paint a picture for you: I go walking through the house, minding my own business and everything is perfectly normal. Then, in the blink of an eye, actually many blinks of both eyes, because it's impossible to sneeze with your eyes open, I begin sneezing uncontrollably. My eyes begin to swell, itch and water, tears begin streaming down my face- I'm not sad and crying- I'm hanging on by a thread- my ears start to itch and my throat itches so bad that I have to scratch it by making a noise that most people would liken to the sound of, as my barrelassin' husband puts it, "hocking a loogy" But I'm not "hocking a loogy" I'm making a noise that makes a vibration, that in turn, eases the itching sensation in the back of my throat. It helps to hold Q-Tips in my ears at the same time.

If I do dust or sweep- all of the above happens exactly the same. I've had this problem for my entire life that I can recall. I thought I had a cold for all of my childhood- I never heard the word allergies until I was twelve years old and my eyes swelled up so bad I looked scary. My barrelassin' momma got up in the middle of the night and took me on what was the first of our many, many trips to the Emergency Room due to allergies. That was the first time I recall anyone mentioning allergies to me, so it's safe to say I wasn't one of those stereotypical kids with an inhaler for her allergies-that came much later; I was a kid that always had a cold.

It doesn't help that three of the top ten cities with the worst pollen and allergies for the fall season 2013 are all in Tennessee, two of them within an hour and two hours from me. And as luck would have it, I've read reports that this is expected to persist for at least the next decade. My town didn't make the top one hundred, but apparently it doesn't have to be the worst- I just have to be present in a house, and besides, I've managed to make sure I visited or driven through at least nine of the those top one hundred cities this year already and have plans to visit or drive through several of the other ones in the future. I'm self destructive that way. A rebel, if you will.

If you got the feeling you were losing me at any point during reading this, it's because you did. None of this is important to me anymore- I've been trying to write it all day long, since I actually did that dusting hours ago. Don't get me wrong, my allergies are really flaring up right now, but I've spent the better part of the day trying to explain to my daughter why I do not believe Freshman girls should date Senior boys. And not just why I disagree with it, but why over my dead body will I allow this. Fortunately for her, I will have to dust again soon- if I'm not the first person ever to die tonight due to complications from itchy eyes and throat syndrome, so she may get that date sooner than she thinks. I hope I won the lottery. I'm definitely going to need a maid and I'd much rather have to explain to my daughter why boys want to date her for her Momma's money.

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Friday, October 18, 2013


Is there a such thing as concert etiquette? And if so- what are the ground rules? If I were to try and answer this question giving my opinion, I would have to say things like, standing on your seat in front of those behind you wouldn't be the kindest thing to do. I think invading someone's space, their personal bubble should only be broken if there is an invitation- it may be an unspoken invitation, but one can usually tell if everyone is on the same page and in it together. The lines and boundaries are typically drawn right up front, and by all means, should be respected.

But what about talking? Is talking new on the list or it strictly reserved for those who have a stick up their ass and I'm just now, after years of concert experiences, finally getting a good taste of what it's like to have the one complete jackass, out of all the seats in the entire Bridgestone Arena, residing in my section? I freely admit- I am a talker; me and talking go way back. It's on my list of my most favorite things to do; I like to talk so much and share my opinions that I have to have a blog just in case there's no one around to listen. But, in my defense, we were at a rock concert- not the freaking Opera! And it wasn't like I was talking directly to the noise police- I was speaking to one of the three other people in the group that I was attending the show with.

I was unaware that the noise patrol officer had purchased a seat one row up behind us, and imagine my surprise when I found out. I mean- you wouldn't ordinarily commit a crime knowing the authorities were looking- I'm no fool, so it was a huge shock to me when one of the Barrelassers with me was talking about her favorite Don Henely song; I should mention we were at The Eagles concert in Nashville, Tn.- when I began to explain  how the song she was referring to, Leather and Lace, by Don Henely and Stevie Nicks, was the song my Barrelassin' husband and I had played in our wedding ceremony as the wedding party walked down the aisle. Apparently, this was more than the man with the stick up his ass, I mean the noise police, or whatever the technical term for him is; jackass I guess, could handle, and he actually leaned over from above us, placed his hand on my shoulder or our shoulders I'm not sure, and actually asked if we would keep it down, stating that "we" meaning himself and whoever else he thought he was at the Opera with, didn't really need or care to hear about it.

Well, if there's one thing I do know for sure- it's that the quickest way to get me to do something is to rudely tell me not to.  And I must say, I don't know what you would call my dis-function, clinically speaking, but I have no real problem telling people what's on my mind or what I think, but at the same time I almost never, ever say the first thing that comes to mind, and somehow what I'm thinking is not what actually comes out of my mouth, unless I am truly angered or offended by what someone has said to me- and if asked for an opinion I will freely give it in as nice a way as I know how. I do not believe for one second that everyone has to agree with everything someone says for a conversation to flow smoothly and I certainly don't always tell people what they want to hear. I am objective and open despite what some people may think, but the only people who think otherwise are definitely the people who didn't hear what they wanted to hear from me.

Anyway- for a single moment, I think I may have gone into shock, which is why I didn't instantly respond with something more along the lines of, " Or... you could kiss my ass and sit back down in your seat." Or perhaps spice it up a little with the ole, " I'll bet now you're kicking yourself for not bringing your hearing-aid with you since you clearly cannot hear the very loud music coming through hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of perfectly good, gigantic speakers over my voice." And I'm a little disappointed in myself for not giving him a good dose of everything special in me by insisting that he hear, for the duration of the concert, every last detail of my wedding day. After a few seconds of de-scrambling what my ears had just heard and a good, clear processing in my brain, I almost couldn't keep my mouth shut. It was a very tough battle between my brain and my mouth- and frankly, I'm convinced that the only reason I didn't take my very first trip to jail was due to the efforts of the Barrelassin' girl with me who, repeatedly took my hand, and told me to let it go- all while making it perfectly clear that she had my back, so if my mouth won over, I at least knew I wasn't knee deep in it alone. Although, we were not alone; both of our husbands were with us and neither of them had any problem hearing the music over our story, because they had no idea what was even going on. It wasn't until I told my husband what the issue was that he looked around, his eyes searching for the man with questionable behavior and so calmly stated, "that man? Cause I'll kick his ass." My husband, fully aware that if I really wanted that man's ass kicked, I would likely already be in a full-blown brawl made his position clear with just a look that says, "my position is ALWAYS... that I will kick your ass if you dis-respect my wife in any way, she can talk as much as she literally, she will only be quiet when she chooses and that's only when she's debating what she wants to tell you next, and you're actually the winner here- unless she actually does want me to kick your ass, and in that case- I'm glad to do it, because I'm harboring a lot of frustration right now. Have I made myself clear?"

This concludes the history of my history with 'The History of The Eagles Tour:2013' and they were fabulous! Definitely check it out if you can.

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)

Tuesday, October 15, 2013


It's no secret that Trick-or- Treating began long before we did it here in America. Without teaching a lesson in the history of trick- or- treating, keeping it short, it was known as souling or guising and people traditionally went door to door asking for money, bread, cheese, butter, eggs, etc. Some history has to with soul cakes and fairies, and some has to do with the exchange for work. Either way- America got a hold of it and stepped it up.

In America, we no longer go door to door and expect money- we call that a Welfare check and we do not have to go anywhere to get it, except for an occasional meeting to be reviewed and basically... mostly be judged and humiliated by people who have enough money to provide for their families - then we get a check in the mail or as I've heard from it's recipients, is now received on a debit card. 

We do not ask for dairy products door to door- we fixed that, too- we have what is known as WIC. WIC is to make certain that pregnant women, infants and children receive the proper amount of dairy and healthy foods during pregnancy and post pregnancy for a certain period of time. 

Both of these programs have their ups and downs and I really have no issue with either one of them. Just because some people take advantage of a system doesn't mean that everyone should be punished or ridiculed and made to suffer when they truly need help. Just like your neighbor doesn't go to jail for tax evasion if you don't file your taxes.

My problem with the whole thing is that I believe the trick-or-treating system in America has failed. It, too, with all of the other programs in trouble right now, needs revamping. For instance, I would like to go door to door this Halloween to get my eggs, cheese, bread, butter and milk. I will dress up if you feel it's important, but I think you should carry my groceries to my car for me, because I'll likely be wearing heels in order to slut it up a bit in hopes of getting name brand products.

I also don't think it would be out of the way for me to go tricking for money, maybe the day after, because let's face it- I'm going to be exhausted after grocery shopping. I also don't recall ever actually tricking someone, or seeing someone tricked who refused to give a treat. I think we need to get a grasp on the term "trick-OR-treat" with emphasis on the "or" and utilize it more often. Somehow in America ,we have taken a tradition that clearly states it's intentions of tricking the hell out of someone who does not participate, and let them off the hook by simply turning off their porch light. Instead- we obediently march only to doors who welcome us and then trick the very people who have done nothing to us. I'm just curious to know what the hell would happen if I grabbed the nose and honked or pulled a quarter from behind the ear of someone who didn't give me a treat on Halloween after I asked for one. 

The entire week of Halloween, we are throwing eggs at people who have to rely  on WIC in order to get enough eggs, and we are wasting very expensive toilet paper to roll houses and cars. From now on, I think we should just use old magazines and newspapers that are stacked up around the house because we don't want to just throw them away- yet we have no idea what to do with them.  This of course would take a lot more time and effort, and eventually, the tradition of rolling would cease. I'm not sure who these kids think they're fooling anyway. I do not know a single teenager who does the toilet paper shopping for the household, and when I see a teen buying such products, just know- I've got my eye on you. 

And lastly- my four lb. dog trick- or- treats every single day. At least twice a day he does a trick,sits, like that's so hard to do, and I give him a treat- he accepts it, takes a leak outside, and lays back down on a pillow and sleeps. Any awake time is spent begging me for another treat. He's really working it. In the event that I do not give him a treat, he accepts my response, pisses in my shoe and pouts. Now the joke is on me and I put two and two together- either our dogs are truly running this country, or at the very least, they are it's true creators- and the only ones who truly understand  Halloween. Now head on over to the column on your right and vote in the trick-or-treating poll!

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)