Welcome to the Gun Show!

This past Sunday, we were fortunate to spend the day with friends and also attend a local gun show. It was held at the fair grounds and they send you through a small maze of signs pointing you this way and that as you enter. Once we walked in the door, there was a portly sheriff's deputy who asked if I was carrying any weapons or guns on me. Uh oh, I could feel it building up inside of me and I couldn't resist. Before I knew it, I proudly patted my biceps and replied, "Just these babies!" He was less than amused as the group all let out a simultaneous chuckle. Guess I wasn't the first. We continued to venture in and found ourselves staring at rows and rows of every gun known to man. It was seriously insane and I feel almost guilty for not being able to fully appreciate each and every one. I'm not a gun maniac. I know how to shoot them but that's about it.

Fernando and I agreed ahead of time that if we were to find a decent 22 handgun that was reasonably priced, we'd go ahead and purchase it. Halfway down the second row, I spotted a Ruger priced at $259.00. I was attracted to the price and when I asked the hick behind the table if I could see it, he quickly retorted with "Oh, you don't want that ugly ol' gun. Look here at this purty lil' pink one! You don't even have to aim it, just point that lil' ol' red dot and pull the trigger." What the hell did he just say to me? I insisted that I wasn't interested in a pink f'n gun. Who would take me seriously if I whipped out a pink gun?! He repeatedly told me it was "purty" and before I snapped, I looked at Fernando and he knew it was time to get me out of there.

Further down the row I did find one and he was well below other vendor's prices. It was a Walther (no lisp, folks) 22ppk. It felt really good in my hand and was NOT PINK. I filled out my form that stated I wasn't a wasn't a former circus clown out with a vengeance, etc. etc. Did you know they ask you for your weight on those forms?? I'm guessing "Yeah Right!" was an acceptable answer since they never asked. So, I'll be picking up this bad boy on Thursday and giving the term "packing heat" a new definintion in our household vs. the old one which meant you were full of a stank that wouldn't wash off.

Pe-ow! Pe-ow! Bang! Bang!

New Ring!

Fernando and I love to visit Apalachicola and look through all the little antique stores and novelty shops. During our last visit there, I found a ring that I absolutely fell in love with but the shop owner was so busy telling someone about his latest fishing adventure, he completely ignored me. I don't handle that well so off we went and I tried forgetting about that ring ever since. So two weeks ago I find myself in TJ Maxx (on a hunt for the hobo bag I missed out on a week prior) Cathi points out this ring in the jewelry case and EUREKA!!!! I love my new ring :)

Sad Cow Disease

Winter finally decided to pay a visit this year. On my way home from work the other day, I stopped along the driveway (looooong driveway) to the house and met dad in the middle of the pasture as he was dripping faucets. The High's next to us have 50+ acres with cows and for the past 2 days they've been "moo-ing" out of control. After mentioning it to my father, he informed me that Mr. High had loaded up all the calves for auction and the mama cows were calling for their babies. Sigh.... hello tears.

LOLA EBOLA Strikes Again!

HOLY MOTHER!!!! I don't even know where to start on this one!

I greeted the dogs at the door today and walked in to find this:

This photo doesn't do it justice.

Gee, wonder what that is.. was?

Oh duh! My brand new Steve Maddens!

Poopie Pants

Hell yes! Oh, if that were only the case. Yesterday had to be one of the most disgusting days of my life. It's times like that when I think I'd be just fine without a dog. Tuesday night, Fernando and I were laying on the couch and Chewy was between us when I noticed his little tummy was making some huge rumbles. Like a good mommy, I rubbed his belly and coddled him. I thought it would be a good idea NOT to let him sleep in bed with us as usual, so I left him in his doggie bed in the living room with Lola Ebola. That's when the poop hit the fan.

I woke up the next morning to that "smell" ........ you know what I'm talking about- that stank nasty stench that sends chills down your back. Dog poop. Well, more like soup. It was everywhere. Really?! Chewy's face was pathetic and I knew he felt horrible, but not horrible enough after leaving Lola Ebola's water bowl drenched. I high fived him and got down to business. I decided to leave him in his crate (which he hasn't used in 2 years) just in case he wasn't quite through. Good thinking, Mari!

On my way home from work, I called Fernando who informed me that "the little one" was waiting outside on the porch because he stank so bad. Fantastic! I couldn't wait to get home and see my chocolate covered pooch. I don't think I've had to deal with a stench like that since the time I babysat a 2 year old with severe diarrhea. I digress. I carried Chewy's crate into the bathroom and sprayed as much room spray as I could and dumped him into the tub. Um, words can't describe. He looked like a turd-covered tramp. My life felt complete at that moment and I constantly had to remind myself of all the sweet times I've had with him- which almost wasn't enough, but it got me through it. Ta-da! The end. That sucked.

Fernando in the kitchen

Mmmmm....

Whew doggie! Fernando surprised me this morning when he announced that he would make our breakfast. 9 times out of 10 when he plans on cooking, I tell him to get out of the kitchen since he's a master mess maker but when it comes to his breakfast omelets, I'm game. He slices up one medium red potato, 1 stick of chorizo, green onions, bell pepper and fresh parmesan. He flips the entire thing out onto a plate which we've dubbed "the communal omelet." We grab a couple of forks, our coffee and voila! Breakfast is served.

Ahhhhh....

Battle of the Infomercials!

VS

HOLY MOSES I didn't think it was possible for me to detest anyone as much as the "Oxy Clean" guy, but he's got someone nipping at his heels. Have you seen the "Sham Wow" commercials? I feel so awkward every time they come on- I can't explain it. Seriously, when either of these screaming idiots appear on my television screen, it's all I can do to change the channel no matter what room I've wandered off to. I will NEVER purchase any item they endorse based on the sheer fact that I hate their faces. Here's a great example why:






I think I hate Billy Mays a fraction less after finding these video clips:

Nice Shootin, Tex!

( Fernando and Rob)

We brought the near year in with a bang- literally. Fernando was given a gun (Taurus PT145) for his birthday in September and has been begging me to accompany him to the shooting range ever since. I finally caved in with the help of some friends and tagged along with NO intentions of shooting any guns. The only gun I've ever been comfortable with is a 22- very light, no kick and no BANG! After much coercion, I approached the shooting bench. Cathi shoved a 9mm in my hand and simply said "shoot it." OK! I did. I liked it. I shot it again. And again. And again.....

(Cathi Badass!)

Fernando wanted me to shoot his 45 and I was plenty hesitant. The bullets looked like miniature cannons (from Super Mario Bros) and it was so freakin' loud. It took me a minute to muster up the courage to squeeze the trigger and BOOM!!!!!! No thanks. Once was enough for me. I could feel an explosion inside my chest when that thing went off- almost like being too close to those gigantic speakers at a rock concert. Not my cup o' tea. I must say, Fernando looked quite "hot" while shooting his 45.

(My honey)

(That's a big ol' gun ya got there, mister!)

(Awww, he's blushing)

( Ammo? Check! 45? Check! Ear plugs? Check! Protective eyewear? Check! Turquoise patent Nine West bag? Check!)

Our time at the range came to a close after a couple of hours and just in time for the ghetto fabulous boys to show up. Wow. That's a whole other blog in itself.