Down here we call it "Neck-car".

Dad and I went to the Honda Grand Prix today. Ordinarily I don't enjoy watching cars drive in circles abnormally fast, but since my dad was saddled with just a girl I figure it's my duty to 'play the son' every once in a while.

Anyhow, it was a gorgeous day for walking amongst the little people and eating corn dogs and drinking beer. I find myself enjoying these types of events for people watching, of which there was plenty. Basically there were a significant number of men vs. women, less teeth than normal, more beer sold than water/lemonade/tea combined, and lots of dip lips.

Actually a pretty good shot, despite our neon yellow ear plugs. I have no excuses for dad's ridiculous shirt.

Or hat.

I took this shot for my FR. We are currently in the market for a yacht. Or more so the accessory Gazillionaire (with an accent preferably) that comes with one.

I'm pretty sure you have to be either anorexic or a prepubescent 9 year-old to fit into these cars. The tires are wider than the seats!

Notice one of the sponsors is the NYSE. It's a wonder why this car was retired and put in the 'take your picture with the car but be careful not to actually touch it' area. They actually had a little old man there wiping up prints after catching people breaking the rules.

He was probably a stock broker in his former life.

The next couple of weeks are going to be filled with visits to fabulous places like The GC and NY which will hopefully give me better fodder for this blog than, oh, say....Car Races?

Let's all cross our fingers.

Muppets on Crack

Last night I was lying in bed, running through my list of things to do today:

Damn I have to go see Hugh The Torturer tomorrow at noon he’s going to ask me why it’s been two weeks since I last saw him and what have I been doing and what fruit have I been eating bananas I haven’t been really motivated to hit the gym but went today because I really wanted a piece of dad’s birthday cake even though it ended up not bring worth the trouble it was sort of dry and the icing just wasn’t up to Publix par not nearly as yummy as the white sugary icing with the fudge cap if it had been that icing I would have eaten cake until I tossed my cookies haha The Bloggess wrote something about tossing cookies and the Cookie Monster oh god remember the Muppets on Crack posters? Those were funny.

Now you have an idea of why it’s hard for me to get to sleep sometimes.

The really bad part was, I was lying there thinking I need to find a copy of the Muppets on Crack for Jenny because she would soooo enjoy that but I was too lazy to lean over and write it down to remember in the morning.

So instead I just lay there chanting to myself: “Muppets on crack. Muppets on crack. Muppets on crack…” It was kind of a creepy marriage between counting sheep and putting a rubber band around my wrist. Except now I have PETA screaming at me for neutering sheep with rubber bands after shooting them up with crack and I can’t remember my point.

Anyhow, here's where I found the Muppets on Crack story. It's pretty hysterical completely uncalled for.

Argh. Erg.

That's supposed to be some sort of pirate grunt of frustration.

It was brought to my attention by The [Lovely] Bloggess that my 'leave comments' capabilities were incapacitated and I got all verklempt basically because she is awesome, and probably would have left some amazingly laugh-so-hard-you-pee-your-pants funny comment. But nope, Blogger required some major HTML coding to get my comments back in order (I'm still not really sure they are exactly) and the moment has passed. Who knows if she'll even come back to visit?

I mean, she is very busy writing a book and being a Super Mom/Wife and sorting out pills.

So do me a favor, whichever one of you invisible people get this first please send me a test comment. It doesn't even have to be witty or long, just write 'test' and send. I have to know.

(funny part is, I could probably just comment to myself....but that sort of feels like voting for myself which I can't even do in my own poll despite the fact that it would probably boost my confidence level another 5%.)

Hurry! I wouldn't want to miss out on another opportunity for drunken commenting.

This just in...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DADDY!


I hope you get everything you want. Including a computer. Let's make up our minds already, why don't we?

(and by "we", I mean you.)

Damn Yankees.

My aunt and uncle joined us at the last Yankees spring training game of the season today. We had fantastic seats, about 10 rows from the field:

At one point a ball landed about 2 rows directly in front of us. My sad little family all just cringed and cowered and covered our heads as best we could. Funny part was, the ball hit the ground and bounced straight up to land just behind us. Some guy caught it, and was ridiculously violent in his efforts. It's a spring training game dude. Seriously.

It was only about 83 degrees out today, but you would think we were sitting in the center of the Saudi desert by the amount of sweat draining out of my body. At one point I had to hitch my skirt up completely to avoid the inevitable swamp-ass. Which I sort of got anyhow, but despite my uncontrollable need to photo document my entire life for you all I did not take a picture of my backside post-game. That would be uncouth.

Haha, this picture has two fairly inappropriate arrows drawn on it. Click the pic to see the text a little better.

Derek Jeter was at the game, in all his....glory? I'm not really a big fan, basically because I've met the man in person a number of times and he wasn't really the Super Awesome guy people claim. Even my BFF Jen who was basically going to marry him wasn't too keen after she met him. I think she may have even broken his heart. True story.

Here's another reason for me to wonder at this guy's mental state:

Click on the pic to see a not-at-all-life-size version of the picture.

That, my dear friends, is his THIRTY THOUSAND SQUARE FOOT house being built on Davis Island (a semi-uppity man-made island in South Tampa that will likely slide into the ocean once the Big One hits). I can't even describe to you how incredibly insane the entire concept of this house is - NUTS. He paid something like 7 million dollars for the land alone, almost 2 million just to the designers, and who the hell knows how much to get it built/furnish it/etc. The place has like 9 million bedrooms and bathrooms, TWO three car garages, and a gigantic front courtyard that will no doubt be a place for his groupies to get arrested when trespassing entourage to park.

I mean, this guy could probably house the entire population of St. Kitts comfortably.

To give you some reference as to how completely out of place this house is, check out his neighbor across the street:

Their house only took one camera shot to document. His took three. From a distance.

Now I realize that someone should probably give this guy a psychiatric evaluation medal of honor for putting so much money into the economy during times like these, but who does this? Not necessarily overall, but who does this here? I mean, Tampa's pretty cool, but c'mon!!

Oh! And remember how mom exchanges wine for liquor over lent?

Scene: Mom returns to table with mysterious brownish liquid in a glass. We both look at her incredulously, since this looks suspiciously like a glass of whiskey wine on the rocks.

Dad: Ellen!

Mom: [taking in our looks of disbelief] No, no. That's just vermouth.

Dad: Ellen, that's basically wine.

Mom: Yeah, I know. I'm maybe sort of cheating a little.

Me: [cringing, looking around for the lightning strikes.] Nice one, mom.

This family is nuts.

PS - Thanks to my seven friends and/or random drunken strangers for voting about my new site. Well, thanks to the five of you who Love It. Everyone else can just go piss off re-vote.