The Seven Month Itch

March marks my seventh month in the blogosphere, which I suppose means I’m still relatively new at this. When I started posting, I not only wondered what in the hell I was going to talk about daily (like I ever shut up) I also wondered who in the world would be interested enough (aside from my mother and the required family member readership) to come hang and take a peek into my life.

In celebration, I’ve decided to share seven random facts about myself. Sit back, relax and grab a cocktail (or three)…

#1. I have a really fun family that I love hanging around.

up up and away

Trying to get a lift onto my dad’s back after honky tonkin’ for my sister’s bachelorette party.

#2. I often make an asshole out of myself on accident.  Labeling them as blonde moments makes me feel better.


It’s JAWS! Scary shark! Wait, where’d the shark go?

#3. Rarely do I drink ’til I puke. But when I was younger and didn’t know any better, thank god someone was there to capture the Kodak moment.

My bestie, Scooby holding my hair back. While laughing. Loudly.

My bestie, Scooby holding my hair back. While laughing. Loudly.

#4. I’ve been crazy about cats my entire life.

Cray cray in training.

Cray cray in training with Ernie.

#5. Richie Sambora (yeah, the one from Bon Jovi) once put a guitar pick he used during a show into my hand. I said into my hand! He didn’t throw it into the crowd and I happened to catch it, he walked over and handed it to me.  This was in the Heather Locklear vs. Denise Richards days. I was pretty sure I hated Richie for cheating on his gorgeous wife, Heather (I mean if she gets cheated on, where’s that leave the rest of us gals?) and knew I hated him for dating his ex-wife’s friend during the divorce. Then Richie’s hand touched mine and well….



I fell so much in love with the stupid pick, I had it made into a necklace. It’s my personal heirloom to pass down to my cat children. Teddy refuses to wear it around his neck because he thinks it’s too “heavy.” CATS.

Not too heavy for this neck.

Not too heavy for this neck.

#6. I have a trashy habit (does this surprise anyone? Anyone?!) of cutting down bags of chips as I stuff them into my mouth.  This not only alleviates your wrist from getting greasy, this tactic is much more time efficient when trying to inhale the crumbs at the bottom of the bag. Trust me.

I know, I know...why didn't you think about this before?!

I know, I know…why didn’t you think about this before?!

Breakfast of Champions

#7. I couldn’t love my cat Teddy more than if I’d birthed him myself. Yeah, yeah, I know. C.R.A.Z.Y.

Couldn't love this cat more...

Crazy in love.

Here’s to seven more months of fun!




How to be a Trashy Tailgater

It’s always a little sad to see college football season slowly winding down after the great anticipation I have for it every August.

I’ve chronicled many of my mini-tailgates I host in Nashville every Saturday – 1,000 miles away from my beloved Iowa Hawkeyes (who are horrible this year, although I still love them – especially Coach Kirk Ferentz) and Kinnick stadium.  So you can imagine my delight when I was able to attend a game this season, complete with the true tailgating experience.

Here’s how you can be a trashy, while classy (?) tailgater…

Miles of walking to a tailgate (which is why I must have been 10 lbs lighter in college) can make coolers icing your tasty beverages beyond heavy.  Do as my friend Eric did and pack your sturdy GAP bag with beer!

Talk about traveling light – your shoulder won’t hurt from lugging around, you can throw it away and no one will guess what’s inside. Genius.

Of course I had to get in on all of the cooler action by posing with it, as I was in such awe.

I will be stealing this idea and substituting beer cans for Captain bottles at future tailgates.

Upon reaching your destination, it’s important to set up shop.

See that sweet bus and tent in the back? Yeah, that’s not ours…check out the blue cooler and umbrellas in front. That’s how we roll. Nice ‘n’ easy.

There’s no need to bring a mirror to a tailgate – one can just look into sunglasses to check out the ‘do.

Lookin’ good.

After primping is complete, when a dude with a fancy camera says he’s documenting tailgaters for (we’re the third picture) say yes.

Of course we stopped what we were doing to say cheese (my dad and I hate attention).  Just as the photo was snapped some ass in the background said, “she’d take her pants off if you asked her too.” Yes, that’s the kind of classy folks I keep company with – and for the record, my pants stay on – unless Hugh Hefner calls.

So you’re saying we’re famous on the internet then, right?

With my star status on the Web established, I thought my day could not possibly get any better. Then, as I turned around, my eyes hit the glossiest beak in all of college sports. HERKY THE HAWK was driving through the tailgate! This was my one shot to get a photo with my favorite famous bird.

It will make your tailgating experience much more fun if you get a picture with the mascot.

It’s him! In the flesh. Ohmygod!

Skinny pirates pumping through my veins, I felt it suffice to run along the cart and beg Herky to either let me on or jump off into my arms and take a mother f’n photo.

Stop! Wait! I love you! I just want to get my…Jesus I’m out of shape.

Needless to say, I acted like a gigantic asshole but yes, you guessed it, I didn’t care. I got my picture made (kind of) with Herky!

As the tailgaters were heading into the game, we felt it necessary (and easier now that the parking lots were cleared out) to take pictures with their vehicles.  This way, there’s no need to invest in a $80,000 party prop.

Ain’t she a beaut? Now don’t go falling in love with it because…it’s not yours.

I was way too cool (duh) to pose in front of someone else’s tailgating property (eye roll) but not too classy to keep from snapping a shot of my dream bus while crossing the street.  It’s even appropriately called Team Alcohawk for our tailgating crew. Oh boy.

I’m immediately saving all of my pennies up for this bus.

As we strolled into the stadium (with Captain hid in appropriate places), I knew my real, live tailgating experience was coming to an end this year.  If only Herky had stopped to pose…

And wouldn’t you know, fate stepped in and stopped Herky for me (not in the flesh…more in a cardboard cutout kind of way) while I was stock piling up on AE dip for our red neck road trip back to Nashville (you’re white trash in the North, red neck below the Mason Dixon Line – keep up with me, people!).

The morning after the day long drinking celebration (looking oh-so-pretty, I know), I about knocked over two grocery clerks trying to make my way to Herky.

Some things are just meant to be.