Subourbon Mom


Kayak Fishing: Being Bitch-Slapped by a Fish
October 18, 2017, 7:00 pm
Filed under: Misc. Humor, Sports, Travel | Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

swordfishI recently got my Cabela’s weekly supplement in the mail.  As I was flipping through, marveling at the wide assortment of camouflage apparel and accessories, I came across a sale on fishing kayaks.

I’m a big fan of fishing – I love getting up at dawn, racing along the still waters of the lake to “the spot,” and casting in that rhythmic way that feels like meditating.  I even love the small heart attack every nibble and bite produces – yes, I am probably the only person in the world who can make fishing stressful. But I still love it.

I also like kayaking – not as much, but it’s great exercise and is a wonderful way to see different things along the shoreline that you might otherwise not notice going 20 knots in the boat.

I DO NOT, however, like the idea of doing those two things at the same time.

funny kayakI do not want to be on the same plane as the fish, especially if it’s a big catfish flopping around with spikes that can ruin your corn-on-the-cob-holding hand.  Just because I like to eat a jar of pickles at a time doesn’t mean I want to sit in a vat of pickle juice while I do it.

I cannot fathom hooking a big old bass, wrestling it into…my lap?  Are you kidding me?  That small heart attack I mentioned would be nothing to the panic that would ensue after I got bitch-slapped by that fish.

Plus, I saw the movie Jaws.  I am NOT going to hook a fish and be dragged to my death, bobbing and weaving like those yellow barrels.

barrel-chase

So thank you, Cabela’s and all you avid sportspeople for combining two peaceful activities into one stressful, death-inducing trip into angler Hell.

You better believe “We’re gonna need a bigger boat.”

 

 



Don’t Slur Your Driving

beach

Dear Rental House Owner –

Thank you so much for your nice letter and for helpfully providing your lawyer’s name and address, although I don’t think it will be necessary.  We had a great girls’ weekend staying in your beach house, and everyone was so friendly!  It’s nice when a bunch of middle-aged women can get together for some relaxing quiet time at the beach. I hope you saw that we replaced the wine glasses and re-stocked the liquor cabinet. The combination for the replacement padlock is written on a sticky note by the phone.

And thank you for asking if we got home okay after our night out.  We had no idea that your friend Jim owns the _________________ Bar – he was very sweet to escort us personally to our car after Sarah twisted her ankle on the stage.  It was also very kind of him to kick that married guy out after he said, “I like your rack” to Lisa.  Those drinks the married guy sent over for us that tasted like liquid Skittles were nasty – give us good wine or bourbon any day – what was he thinking?  Please tell Jim we hope we didn’t drive too many of his younger customers away with our dancing.  Those millennial girls just don’t have the moves we do, and I think they were embarrassed at how much better we were. (They sure do know how to roll their eyes though.)  But one nice girl came up to Cheryl and said it must be nice to trust your friends enough to let them hold while you hang upside down like that.

Your next-door neighbor was also very nice, letting us come up on one of his balconies to watch the sunset.  When Terry fell and broke her wine glass because she miscounted the steps, he asked if she was okay and didn’t even comment on her speech impediment (it’s often confused with slurring). We cleaned up the wine and broken glass for him, but he had already gone inside so we couldn’t say thank you in person.

You must have a lot of crime in that area – that explains all the cameras.  We would greatly appreciate it if you would please tell your other neighbors we were only trying to be helpful when we checked that their hot tub was clean and the heater was working (it was).  You might also want to pass on that the cleaners didn’t do a very good job.  There was lots of sand in the bottom of the hot tub and two bottles of Fireball had been left on the porch rail.  We didn’t want the cleaners to get into trouble so we finished the Fireball off – hence the empties. There wasn’t much we could do about the sand. But if your neighbors find a diamond stud earring, they can put that towards the next cleaning fee.

We noticed that things were a bit dry in North Carolina, so we decided to save water for you by bathing over there.  Lisa’s suit color tends to run, so she thought it might do better in the pool.  Oh, and by the way, the neighbors also might want to have their pool deck leveled out.  Apparently, what they saw on the camera was Lisa falling on the uneven pavement as she was putting her clean bathing suit back on. She must have bumped her head, because she put it on upside down and inside out. We still haven’t figured out how that’s even possible, but that’s Lisa for you.  But don’t worry, she says she doesn’t have any interest in litigating the injury.

Yes, we did have one extra person stay overnight.  The nice lifeguard we met at Jim’s bar offered to drive us home, and it’s a good thing he did because there aren’t a lot of Ubers around on the off season (none seemed available that late at night – we kept getting declined).  I wonder if you know him?  There can’t be that many lifeguards who also have a degree in tribal mating dances – that’s probably what you saw on your cameras.  But it was extremely fortunate he was there because Cheryl must have had some kind of reaction to the food at the bar – she required mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. The lifeguard was very concerned for her privacy so he took her into the other room and managed to revive her after several minutes.  After that, it was late and he was tired, so the least we could do was let him spend the night.  He was a real gentleman – he even fixed us all breakfast the next morning.

If you find the following items we would appreciate it if you would return them:

2 black bathing suit tops

1 pink thong

1 blue bathing suit bottom

1 floral eye mask

3 pairs of readers – black, navy blue and hunter green, varying strengths

Thanks again for your letter of concern, and as you can see, no lawyers will be necessary.  We are happy to pay for any damages we didn’t already repair, but I don’t think the tire tracks in your front yard were from us. Sadly, there were a lot of drunk people out that night – some people just can’t handle themselves on vacation. Even the nice police officer who stopped us on the way home said the lifeguard was just driving a little fast. After looking into the car when Cheryl starting yelling “Don’t slur your driving!” and seeing that Lisa was a bit green around the gills, he decided to let us go. What an understanding young man! He even fist bumped the lifeguard.  Your beach town is such a friendly place! You must feel so proud to have a house there!

Until next year,

The Girls.

 

 

 



Port-o-John Etiquette

potty1We live in a society governed in part by laws of decency. They separate us from the animals and White Supremacists, and people should follow them to keep human grossness down to a tolerable level.

Which brings me to Port-O-John (POJ) etiquette.

Look, I get it – nobody wants to be in the Abyss of Nastiness, much less touch anything. I can remember having to take my kids in them and shrieking “DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING!” This usually ended with me holding said kid by the armpits over the hole while they tried unsuccessfully to do their business in the most awkward way possible.

The other night I was at an outdoor concert, and bless her heart, somebody (I’ll call her Chicken Little – explanation below) just did not follow what I consider to be good POJ etiquette. After waiting in the ridiculously long line for the few POJs the women were using (the men were using a POJ trough that was infinitely faster), I finally got to the front of the line and opened the door.

Now Girls, I know our Mamas told us not to touch anything and to line the toilet seat with toilet paper so we wouldn’t get some God-awful disease, or worse, pregnant, but you can’t do that shit in a POJ in the dark.  First and foremost, nobody can tell if you were merely being cautious (hooray for you – Mama would be proud), or if you’re covering up something nasty. Nobody coming in after you can afford to make any assumptions, especially at a concert where there are copious amounts of drunk Millennials.

POtty2When I opened the POJ door, Chicken Little had spread a lot of toilet paper haphazardly about.  Maybe she had attempted to line the seat, and thought the seat was three feet around and crawled up the wall, but there was toilet paper on the floor, on the wall and stuck to the door handle. It looked like a bunch of used Civil War bandages had gotten caught in a time machine.

No way in Hell was I going to even attempt to hover near that mess.

When I brought this up to a couple of friends, there was a surprising variety of opinions about female POJ etiquette.

My friend, I’ll call her Laura, admitted to lining the seat, AND putting extra paper down the hole to prevent splash back.  That was something I hadn’t even thought of…nor have I ever been in a POJ where the contents were so full as to have that issue. So, I deem shoving TP down the hole for that reason is acceptable.  Note to self: don’t travel with Laura.

Another friend asked, “But what if you aren’t physically strong enough to squat?” Well, that’s why they make the Elvis Handles – you know, the places on the door in front of you where you grab on with your hands to help you balance. Note to self:  keep working on squats at the gym.

So here are my Rules for Using the POJ:

  1. NEVER retrieve anything that fell in the hole – seriously, no phone is worth it. Besides, how awesome would it be to call it whenever someone’s in there? Even better, get an old phone and put a funny voicemail message on it.
  2. Leave your phone/drink/purse outside with a friend.  You don’t want to use any of them after being in that Cave of Satan.
  3. If you forget and bring your beer in there with you, don’t leave the bottle/cup in the urinal.  Somebody’s job is to reach in and get it – do your best impression of a man cleaning up dog poo: leave it on the floor and walk away.
  4.  If you must line the seat because you can’t squat or you’re still scared your Mama will find out, it is up to you to put the toilet paper that lined it into the hole when you’re done.  Again, that’s somebody’s job.
  5. Toilet paper is not a sticky note – it has no place on a wall or door handle.
  6. Feminine products: wrap ‘em up like a bad burrito. Nobody wants to look at that.
  7. Banging on the POJ while a friend is in there to scare the crap out of them is perfectly acceptable.
  8. Banging on the POJ when a stranger is in there is still hilarious but you’d better be able to out run them.
  9. Tipping someone over in a POJ is NEVER okay.
  10. Check your shoes for toilet paper – or tell someone if it’s stuck to them (unless it’s your friend and you’re laughing to hard.


Dear House Sitter (Actual Instructions I Left Last Week)
July 19, 2017, 8:00 pm
Filed under: Misc. Humor, Travel | Tags: , , , , ,

Thanks for taking care of the babies and the house!  Here’s what you need to know:

The Cats:   

We have 3 cats (because we’re stupid), but usually only 2 of them hang out at the house:

Izzy is our 14 yr. old weird orange tabby. She’s very vocal, so don’t be surprised if you find her nagging you to feed, water or be her personal slave in every way. This is usually indicated by a bitchy-sounding meow or by her repeatedly slipping her head under your hand as you try to work on your computer.

Kiwi is the long-haired, gray tabby. She’s the in-house terrorist, taking swipes at you as you walk by and plotting your death.  She truly believes that when she stares at you she is stealing a portion of your soul and selling it to the Devil – it might be true. The vet is scared of her – just feed her and back away.

Holly and EscobarEscobar is the black male. He’s super friendly to people and loves to lay around on his back and show you his junk.  He’s also an asshole to Izzy, especially when he’s hungry.  Escobar wanders the neighborhood looking for…c’mon, that’s too easy.   He occasionally graces us with his presence when none of the neighborhood cats are in heat. He’s our neighborhood’s version of Barney from How I Met Your Mother.  Don’t be surprised if you don’t see him at all.

Food and Water:  Izzy and Kiwi get one scoop of dry food 2x a day.  Escobar gets the same when he shows up, but it’s like going on a date – don’t put out unless you’re ready to use it.  The cats get fresh water in their bowl when I remember, but Izzy usually drinks out of Larry the Fish’s bowl anyway, and Escobar never really learned how to drink successfully out of a bowl – I can’t even explain how ridiculous he looks when he tries. Kiwi drinks out of the toilet – don’t ask. I think it was part of her ISIS training.

Meds:  Izzy gets a half Zyrtec in the morning.  She has allergies, so her lips get really fat like Angelina Jolie and it makes her scratch. That’s also why her stomach is completely bald.  There is something so sad (and hilarious) when she sits on the kitchen floor and her bald tummy rests on the tile like Jaba the Hut, or when she compulsively licks, muttering to herself, “So bald, so pretty!”

Cat Litter:  I’ll change it before we go. There are two boxes – one in the downstairs bathroom and one in the hallway upstairs.  I usually scoop the funk out every couple of days into plastic grocery bags (Reduce! Reuse! Recycle!).  If it’s really nasty, feel free to just dump the whole thing into a trash bag and put it in the outside bin. Just don’t be like me and forget to add more litter to the box – that doesn’t end well.

Larry the Fish:

There’s no reason Larry should still be alive, so don’t worry if anything happens (he’s like 5 years old and came in a Ziploc from Field Day of the Past).  He gets a small pinch of food every day.

 The Dogs:

Disclaimer: You said you wanted to do this!

We have 2 dogs.

Lily front PorchLily is the strange brown hound that is terrified of everyone.  We’re pretty sure she was Rufied when she was a puppy, and never had therapy to deal with it.  She won’t walk through any door except the one off the deck, and will lurk around the corner looking like she wants to come in until you open the door. Then she’ll disappear faster than America’s middle class.  But also like the middle class, she’s perfectly happy to ignore the world around her and snuggle on the couch watching Dancing with the Stars.

 

Holly and EscobarHolly is an attention whore and a klepto.  She loves people and cars – so much so that she will jump into moving cars through the open window. Then she’ll take your stuff as she exits the car, and all you’ll find are chewed up bits all over the yard.  She also eats packages delivered to the house, so please sure they are picked up immediately. So far, our running total of delivery destruction is around $700 – that includes two prom dresses we ordered for sizing purposes only. If you know anyone who might want them, they’re hanging in the laundry room. I’m told the kids are now wearing clothes with holes in them.

They can go outside during the day.  There is an electric fence (it was so cute that we thought that would keep them in). Our neighbors have taken pity on us and when the dogs escape, frequently leave our wayward girls in the driveway like a bad one night stand.

The Pool:  

Enjoy!  If you can clean out the skimmer basket every couple of days that would be great – usually there’s just frogs, spiders and beetles in there. Sometimes there’s a snake or two, but not to worry, they’re more scared of you then you are of them.  Ha! That’s such bullshit!  I’m hate them and call Hubby to come get them out.  You’re on your own there.  I dump the skimmer critters out in the grass over the fence. The dogs LOVE that.

Oh yeah – I threw in enough chlorine in there to give your face a chemical peel. Enjoy your week of being wrinkle-free.

Other:

Plants:   Good luck.  They’ve sucked all summer.

TV:  We have Xfinity for cable purposes. Turn the TV on using the large remotes (either one will do).  Ignore the other remotes sitting around – I’m pretty sure they’re just dog toys at this point and that they don’t work any of the electronics in the house anymore, but SOME PEOPLE won’t throw anything away.  All other TV questions – ask Hubby. I have no idea how any of that shit works.

Internet:  We live in the country. It’s often slow or doesn’t work at all. Read a book.

So there you have it – feel free to call us if you have any questions and have a great week!



Spring Break – 5 College Guy Body Types

Lots of people have asked me if there was any eye candy on the spring break cruise we took, which apparently had most of the University of Georgia on it. I hesitate to say yes, because a) the “men” were the same age as my daughters and b) eye candy is only fun in this situation for someone my age as long as you have your headphones on.  As soon as you actually hear the eye candy speak, it’s all over – it’s like getting what you thought was a caramel chocolate out of the candy box, and it ends up having that nasty pink creamy stuff inside.

But while I waited at the back of the pool crowd (see photo above) for the waiter to bring my next boat drink, I did notice that there are essentially 5 main male college bods:

  1. The football player who will eventually be a real estate broker or work in his Dad’s car dealership. This guy has already peaked – in fact, he may have peaked in high school but is riding the wave until the bitter end. His bulky size is beginning to go or will go to fat as soon as he stops working out in the gym, although he may re-acquaint himself with his neck when that happens. He always enters the belly flop contest and does the beer yell while dancing like Uncle Kracker. He also has some of the worst sunburn because he doesn’t have a girlfriend, and guys generally just aren’t that helpful to each other with sunscreen application.
  2. Dad-Bod. This guy has already achieved that settled look that usually comes after baby #1. You can already see what he’s going to look at when he’s 40. He’s wearing the pastel button-down shirt (probably unbuttoned) and a university hat. But he is someone who might be able to hold a conversation, and his sunscreen is evenly applied because he has a girlfriend (or potential girlfriend) who cares.
  3. The Gym Rat. This guy, no matter how tall or short, spends the same amount of time in the gym that Oprah Winfrey spends telling people how to live their lives better (BTW, I’m still annoyed that one of Oprah’s “favorite things” was a pair of slippers for $300, as if we’re supposed to be able to afford them – bitch, please). He has perfected the flex-and-scan, which involves – you guessed it – flexing his pecs and abs and scanning beneath his $200 sunglasses to see who noticed. This is usually followed by a smirk if he’s spotted a fan, or a frown if he hasn’t.
  4. The Head of the Back (a-la Michael Anthony Hall in 16 Candles). These leaders of the non-Ken Doll contingent tend to lurk around the outskirts of the big crowds, drinking as much as the rest (or more), but never quite make it to the inner circle. They may not spend as much time in the gym or in the girls’ dorms as the other guys, but they have an amazing assortment of professional sports-related clothing to choose from, such as baseball and basketball jerseys. Sunburn? See Bod #1.
  5. Baseball player bod. These guys aren’t necessarily baseball players – they just have that naturally athletic look to them, without all the gym work. They either are already in the military (hence the look), they’ll work 20-hour days on Wall Street, or they will climb some other corporate ladder quickly with their combination of looks and charm (and probably smarts as well) – unless they go the opposite direction and do something interesting/noble like joining the Peace Corp or becoming a Wilderness adventure leader in the Rockies. Their sunscreen is applied evenly by pretty much anyone they ask.

At the risk of being accused of body-shaming, these are generalizations only. I don’t know these people and haven’t spoken to them except to ask them to please aim their vomit down the stairs and not down my front (just kidding). And no, I’m not going to talk about the girls’ body types because…I’m not stupid.

And yes, I was jealous of them for a bit, but then I had a revelation:

College kids don’t have cash, and pool wait staff like cash.   A lot.

Grownups have cash.

So, we grownups grabbed some chairs first thing in the morning while the partiers were still sleeping, and camped out all day enjoying the partiers’ annoyed looks.  We tipped the wait staff each time they took our orders.  Soon we didn’t even have to ask – they just brought. No standing in line amongst the sweaty, rum-breathing hoards, vying for the bartenders’ attention among the belly button rings and thongs. Just drinks on a tray when we needed them.

It’s good to be a grown up.




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