Things I did last week that I forgot to blog about:
1. I met famous bloggers (okay, just one) from across the country.
Shellie Kendrick came into town (she has a majorly popular blog and she lives in the South. Not Southern Utah. The SOUTH, y'all).
The first blog post I read of hers was called 4B's. Once I reached her hand-drawn diagram, I was hooked.
Anyway, we started reading each others' blogs, and then we started exchanging writing projects, and we realized we were M.F.E.O.
She came over to my house after my tennis workout one night, and I admit I was a little star struck. Maybe that's an excuse for why the first words out of my mouth were, "Nice to meet you. I have to take a quick shower. Not only do I stink, I sorta peed my pants a little when I tried to hit an overhead."
At her surprised expression, I further explained, "It's okay. I don't hug with my legs or anything."
Huh? Like not wrapping my legs around a person makes peeing my pants okay? Very weird, and not just a little bit awkward. She still stayed, and told me a "peeing pants" story of her own. See? Brothers from another Mother.
Below is a picture of us, combining our peeing pants stories in a plot to take over the world.
You'll also notice an open can of TAB cola on the bar. Tab is hubby Sam's favorite drink, and when Shellie tried it and didn't puke, he was mucho impressed. So much so that we took a vote and offered Shellie the position of second wife in our house. Now, to get rid of her hubby Chad... Bueno!
2. My tennis partner and I won a tennis match.
It was an exciting match. You can tell by the faces of the crowd.
Kid C is in the middle, threatening to gouge his eyeball out if we didn't finish the stupid match soon. Kid B is nearest the camera, losing brain cells.
Here's a picture of me about to hit a ball.
I think it's funny, because in my head, I'm thinking about how I look all suave, and how it's all about the technique, and how any minute Rafa is going to call me up for some mixed doubles. But then, I see myself on film, and think, "That can't possibly be how I look. That's some old chubby woman suffering from constipation or something."
Seriously, take away the racket, and I might as well be in the ladies' room. If ya know what I mean. (She said as she twirled her porn star mustache and puffed her cigar. "If you know what I mean"? Who says that, besides old beer belly men with chest hair poking out their shirts, elbowing their friends and raising their eyebrows? C'mon, bro. Get it together.)
3. Book Club with Sydney Salter
There's nothing cooler than going to a book club where the author is among the guests.
Cousin D (okay, it's Debbie, from Cranberry Fries. I don't really think there's a need to protect her identity on this one... She's not exactly Cousin W or anything... I kid, Cousin W). Anyway, Debbie put together a bunch of cool chicas, including Sydney Salter, and we gabbed the night away about Sydney's book MY BIG NOSE AND OTHER NATURAL DISASTERS.
We talked embarrassing jobs, first crushes, natural bodily functions, and toe fungus. And then we ate. Because the mere mention of toe fungus makes me hungry.
Since a wedding cake plays a role in Sydney's book, Cousin Debbie, or Heather, or maybe Heidi, baked a two-tiered wedding cake. Sydney said it's good to have a food tie-in to the book. "What would your tie-in be?" she asked me.
"Ummm... blood," I answered.
Seriously? Blood, Brodi? I tried to think of a theme to my book, and blood was the first thing that came to my mind. The girls were really nice, saying they could come up with plenty of blood-themed food.
But even now, I can't really think of anything else. I'm trying to consider objects that come up in my book. Whisks? Rocks? Shaving Cream? Drink Coasters? Forks? The problem is every one of those objects (except one) lead to someone's gory death. So we're back to blood.
Maybe this would be a good time to serve the red Wine Frye?
So, how was y'all's weekend? (The preceding sentence incorporates my favorite incarnation of the word "y'all".)
1. I met famous bloggers (okay, just one) from across the country.
Shellie Kendrick came into town (she has a majorly popular blog and she lives in the South. Not Southern Utah. The SOUTH, y'all).
The first blog post I read of hers was called 4B's. Once I reached her hand-drawn diagram, I was hooked.
Anyway, we started reading each others' blogs, and then we started exchanging writing projects, and we realized we were M.F.E.O.
She came over to my house after my tennis workout one night, and I admit I was a little star struck. Maybe that's an excuse for why the first words out of my mouth were, "Nice to meet you. I have to take a quick shower. Not only do I stink, I sorta peed my pants a little when I tried to hit an overhead."
At her surprised expression, I further explained, "It's okay. I don't hug with my legs or anything."
Huh? Like not wrapping my legs around a person makes peeing my pants okay? Very weird, and not just a little bit awkward. She still stayed, and told me a "peeing pants" story of her own. See? Brothers from another Mother.
Below is a picture of us, combining our peeing pants stories in a plot to take over the world.
You'll also notice an open can of TAB cola on the bar. Tab is hubby Sam's favorite drink, and when Shellie tried it and didn't puke, he was mucho impressed. So much so that we took a vote and offered Shellie the position of second wife in our house. Now, to get rid of her hubby Chad... Bueno! 2. My tennis partner and I won a tennis match.
It was an exciting match. You can tell by the faces of the crowd.
Kid C is in the middle, threatening to gouge his eyeball out if we didn't finish the stupid match soon. Kid B is nearest the camera, losing brain cells. Here's a picture of me about to hit a ball.
I think it's funny, because in my head, I'm thinking about how I look all suave, and how it's all about the technique, and how any minute Rafa is going to call me up for some mixed doubles. But then, I see myself on film, and think, "That can't possibly be how I look. That's some old chubby woman suffering from constipation or something."Seriously, take away the racket, and I might as well be in the ladies' room. If ya know what I mean. (She said as she twirled her porn star mustache and puffed her cigar. "If you know what I mean"? Who says that, besides old beer belly men with chest hair poking out their shirts, elbowing their friends and raising their eyebrows? C'mon, bro. Get it together.)
3. Book Club with Sydney Salter
There's nothing cooler than going to a book club where the author is among the guests.
Cousin D (okay, it's Debbie, from Cranberry Fries. I don't really think there's a need to protect her identity on this one... She's not exactly Cousin W or anything... I kid, Cousin W). Anyway, Debbie put together a bunch of cool chicas, including Sydney Salter, and we gabbed the night away about Sydney's book MY BIG NOSE AND OTHER NATURAL DISASTERS. We talked embarrassing jobs, first crushes, natural bodily functions, and toe fungus. And then we ate. Because the mere mention of toe fungus makes me hungry.
Since a wedding cake plays a role in Sydney's book, Cousin Debbie, or Heather, or maybe Heidi, baked a two-tiered wedding cake. Sydney said it's good to have a food tie-in to the book. "What would your tie-in be?" she asked me.
"Ummm... blood," I answered.
Seriously? Blood, Brodi? I tried to think of a theme to my book, and blood was the first thing that came to my mind. The girls were really nice, saying they could come up with plenty of blood-themed food.
But even now, I can't really think of anything else. I'm trying to consider objects that come up in my book. Whisks? Rocks? Shaving Cream? Drink Coasters? Forks? The problem is every one of those objects (except one) lead to someone's gory death. So we're back to blood.
Maybe this would be a good time to serve the red Wine Frye?
So, how was y'all's weekend? (The preceding sentence incorporates my favorite incarnation of the word "y'all".)
