Monday, November 30, 2009

Memoir Monday - Courage and a Roll

It's Memoir Monday as started by Travis at I Like To Fish. Since we know this new phenomenon is spreading like crabs through a high school football team, lets join the fun.

Sixteen and itching to get away from prison home, without the slightest bit of hesitation I jumped on the offer to join my best friend and her family on a short road trip over the Easter holiday break. Eight hours away, to the south, lies a small microscopic town with its inbred bassackwards hillbilly folk. Not exactly exciting; not exactly New York or LA or even Chicago, but at least it was away from home. AND my girlfriend and I were allowed to drive down in her convertible while her parents followed in their vehicle. SCORE! For 8 awesome hours we got to pretend we were on our own; top down, radio blaring and enough gossip and giggling to make you want to puke. Oh and I'm sure we flashed a few truck drivers along the way.

Fast forward to the drive home (because really, it was a dew drop of a town and the most exciting happening was old Mr. Elmer farting in the Post Office and ending up with a puddle of shit around his boots. That’s not exactly People worthy gossip). We stop for lunch at a famous restaurant, Lambert's CafĂ© "The Only Home of Throwed Rolls".

No typos, that’s the name.

Yes, they are famous for throwing rolls at patrons while they eat.

Upon being seated Sue and I immediately noticed a table of Airmen in their flight suits eating nearby.
We’re 16.
We have Guydar (kinda like penis radar but a nicer way of saying it).

After much debate and a few double dog dares from Sue’s father (and you KNOW Duckalicious RARELY backs down from a dare even at the age of 16), we giggle and swagger over to the table of guys. There’s just something about a man in uniform – even to this day they still warms my girlie parts make me smile.

Anywhoha, we approach and the low rumble of conversation stops as four pair of eyes travel the length of us. Only two smile (damn! Rough crowd already and we haven’t even done anthing yet!)

We get down on one knee.

Curiosity is passed around the table.

Sue and I suck up courage from our toes and open our mouths…

"Baby, baby, I get down on my knees for you.
If you would only love me like you used to do, yeah.
We had a love...a love...a love you don't find everyday.
So don't...don't...don't...don't let it slip away.

You lost that lovin' feeling,
Whoa, that lovin' feeling,
You've lost that lovin' feeling,
Now it's gone...gone...gone...woooooah”

By this point the entire restaurant has gone silent; food falling out of open mouths, glasses breaking, rolls thudding to the floor. I’m sure a few wretched discretely into their napkins and birds began death spirals into the windows.

As we ended our shortened rendition of this Top Gun classic, every table BUT the one to which we handed our pride erupted in laughter and applause. Not these four men. They sat stock still and looked at us like the stupid 16 year olds that we were.

Shortly after that I was thunked in the head with a roll.

THAT broke the table into laughter.

Those 2 minutes were the beginning and the end of my singing career. Scarred for life I now just SIGN words to songs. I don’t SING them and I think ears across America are sighing in relief.

Friday, November 27, 2009

Black Friday -Maxine Style!

BCC will return to its regular posting content on Monday....Same Bat Time, Same Bat Channel!
Hope y'all had a fabulous holiday and if you're brave enough to venture out today....well, KUDOS to you. I'd just end up in jail. I don't do crowds :O)

Wednesday, November 25, 2009


(I don't know what the picture has to do with this post.  I just liked it and haven't had a post yet to use it with. So, BAM!, there it is.......)


~Classy is...sneaking shots of tequila whilst sitting on the can or side of tub. Especially when company is visiting.

~When thee is in doubt, kick his ass anyway.

~If thee two-corner workith, they business will double.

~Girl with brass balls need reinforced purse straps (*Coach/DG/Marc Jacobs please take note)

~Lacking tact would be asking your boss who's peter he sucked to aquire his job. Not a point in your favor.

~Skinny people ticketh thy offith. Especially when spewing stupidity such as "You know, I sometimes forget to eat". I have often forgotten my address, my telephone number, my cars keys and my insulin, but I have never forgotten to eat. You have to be a special kind of stupid to forget to eat.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Getting my FIX - Tuesday Post Its

Hosted by SupahMommy

You will be proud of me... I did not include even ONE post it about traffic this week!

Monday, November 23, 2009

Memoir Monday - CRABS! AHHHHH

It's Memoir Monday as started by Travis at I Like To Fish. Since we know this new phenomenon is spreading like crabs through a high school football team, lets join the fun.


We were very fortunate as kids to have family vacations every couple of years. The year I was 13 we traveled to Hawaii for our family vacation. Nine wonderful days of Island hopping. Lucky for us it was the rainiest spring season the islands had seen in upwards of 20 years. Seven of the nine days it rained….fun stuff!

I can’t remember what year it was that I first experienced the ocean. Being landlocked in the Heartland one has to travel quite the distance. Hawaii is quite the distance but this trip wasn’t my first exposure. I was convinced I would try my skill at surfing. My parents rented this super cool condo right on its own private beach. Just a short 20 yards from the back door we had our own little slice of heaven. The one afternoon that afforded us some sunshine you can bet my sisters and I were out frolicking in the waves. It was quite the feat of bravery to allow that water to cover us up to our ankles. Some one not me okay, yes me was deathly afraid of sharks damn Jaws movies. I know…and I wanted to surf, right?

I don’t know much about the ocean but I do know the surf was particularly rough that day and we’d received several warnings to stay close to the shore. When we were about thigh deep my radar picked something incoming on the frothy white foam bubbling towards us. Quickly scanning the depths of my massive brain for the correct identification of said object I prematurely began shreaking in that ultra high -calling-all–dogs from–the nearest-5–continents way teens do, “CRABS! CRABS! CRABS!” while high-stepping it back to the safety of our beach towels (as if crabs are really going to chomp my legs off at the knee and leave me maimed for the rest of my life). Not understanding what the hell I was screaming about but well recognizing the fear in my squeaks my sisters joined in the shrieking (really, any reason to scream was a good reason) and began running as best as one can while in the ocean, to the shore. (insert Jaws theme music here)

Finally collapsing in a heaping pile of heaving salt-sticky limbs, my sisters peppered me with questions.
Older Sister: What the hell was that?
Sista: **laughing** she’s always laughing
Daffy: looking over shoulder to reinforce identification of object that now law in an unmoving heap on the beach….”ummm…THAT!”
Older Sister: What is it?
Daffy: Crabs?
Sista: …moved off to build sand castles. She’s always sorta been in her own little world….
Older Sister: You’re a dumbass! THAT’s what you were yelling about? Its just a pile of bananas and seaweed...
Daffy: (whining) Weeeelllll, it LOOKED like a giant crab!

My loving and forgiving family gave me stuffed crabs, porcelain crabs, wood carved crabs, dish towels with crabs and even a pair of socks with crabs on them in the years that followed this incident. Suffice it to say I knew then and there I would never be able to live as a mermaid. Quite the blow really….

**SIDE NOTE** because I realize this was another lame trip down memory lane that afforded me with may more chuckles than you, I give you this link to make up for your perservearance reading through this post.***

Friday, November 20, 2009

the Votes Are In

...we the people in order to form a more perfect BLOGLAND have submitted and subsquently voted on the definition of ASSHAT as it occurs in daily life. Henceforth you are command to go and use this term as often as possible crediting how DUCKALICIOUS Miss Daffy is at each and every useage. As a result of your fabuloso contributions both in words, time and clicks the winner of ASSHAT submissions is now decreed: one TRAVIS from I LIKE TO FISH please stand up and accept the honor BLOGLAND PEEPS have bestowed upon your enormous noggin....

Guest Post For Daffy!

So I won this guest post by making a definition of the word asshat.


It’s actually quite an easy thing to define when you are one yourself.

Allow me to give you some examples.

Since none of my family or Facebook friends will read this, I can unleash the bad side of Travis!

At one point in my life, I had stolen money and/or merchandise from every employer I’d worked at.

I’ve killed a dog on purpose, just because it walked across the street like I wasn’t even driving on it.

I’ve attempted to kill a fawn with a shotgun. (The Groom was in on this one too.)

I used to torture The Missus’ cat back when she and I were dating.

The Missus tried to play a prank on me while we were dating. We thought she was pregnant, and she bought a test. She took the test, then talked with her friend, then called me into the room. Her friend, leaving the room, had a smile on her face for about an eighth of a second. I saw it. When I got to her room, she said, “Well, I’m pregnant, what are we going to do?” I said, “Well, I don’t think we should date anymore, and I don’t want anything to do with the baby.” Script flip. Woo. She was LIVID.

I have tried, (rather unsuccessfully) to get The Missus to have a 3 way with her best friend and us. Several times.

I have given The Missus a Dutch Oven. Several times.

I’ve accidentally hurled my wedding ring out of my truck window in the process of littering.

I’ve framed a rather stupid co-worker and got him fired.

I’ve encouraged a married woman to sleep with her husband sans protection so that if she got pregnant from what I did earlier that day, she could blame it on her husband.

So yeah… I’m an asshat. I know the meaning of the word all too well. As I’m typing this, I’m talking with Daffy on messenger. She swears up and down that I’m not an asshat. I told her she’d change her mind after she saw this list!

Now, don’t get it wrong. I’m not a bad guy.


I’ve had my moments like everyone else has. However, I am not stealing from my current job, I’m not sleeping with anyone besides The Missus, and my days of trying to kill/torturing small animals are way in the past. Now a days, my worst moments are when that douchefuck Tyler Hansborough comes on TV and doesn’t do jack-SHIT to find that little black girls dog, but totally takes all the credit for it and does it all in FUCKING NORTH CAROLINA BLUE!


I cuss a lot when that commercial comes on.

Fuck you, AT&T.

Buncha asshats.

As of this moment, Daffy has 99 followers, and I have 93. That means that six of you guys reading this aren’t following me. Actually, it’s five, because I’m one of the people following her, and I don’t follow myself. Well, I mean, I do, but it’s because I’m fat. And that’s completely different.

So yeah.

Go find my blog, and click follow.

Although, after that list, I wouldn’t be surprised if I lose a few. Sorry about that.

Love you guys.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

TMI THURSDAY- He’d Rather Be With Her

...from LiLu ***Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

He likes to shop. I’m lucky that way. Actually, all things considered I’m very lucky and I know it! He does laundry, he helps with dishes, he cleans his own bathroom, he loves to spend time with his daughter, he vacuums and all with out a word or nag from yours truly. You might ask why then would I even think about complaining sharing this story? Cause I’m not getting lucky. Makes a body a stark mad raving bitch little cranky.

In we walk at Victoria’s Secret. The only reason he went in with me was so I could show him this little French Maid ditty that I really wanted to buy (he says he’d rather bang his head on a wall for 8 hours than go into one of those stores). He takes one look at the few pieces of fabric held together by some strategically placed dental floss, smiles (I’m thinking SCOOORE!), then looks at the price tag and says, “We could spend that on truck parts and skip the outfit.”

(…looking around to see if anyone was listening, why? Because its mortifying that Hubs would rather buy door pannels than see his hot young wife in lingerie!)
ME: Would it have the same effect?
HIM: Sure

Went straight to the GMC Trucks parts store after that and damned if he didn’t have a headache that night. Isn't she cute? Her fenders are a little more round than mine, but I'm MUCH younger....

***Update: to save a little face here, just want y'all to know that Hubs is one of those singularly focused kind of guys. Whatever he's doing at the moment (me or the truck or hunting) he is wholly focused on that 200%. So when it is my will be grand and I WILL NOT share those stories.... And yes Ed, you can not polish a turd however when covered in darkness you can not tell its a turd.....note to self: don't pay light bill

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Thwart the Flu Mafia Style posted in the hallways of our High School, great tips for avoiding the Flu Jimmy Hoffa style...

**This had been a PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUCEMENT brought to you by:
Duckalicious and the letter W

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

POST ITs - Virtual Addiction w/ a Whole Lotta Passion

...actually post it notes are not a new addiction for me. I'm stuck on them IRL too. They are everywhere...for example, I have a POST IT notepad (in awesome vibrant colors) stuck to the dashboard in my car at all times. I pull an Octomom and grab another arm outta write stuff down all the time! So...on with the virtual extension of my addiction

Duckalicious has spoken....

(this one took three...sorry...sometimes I'm not so good and mincing words)

Monday, November 16, 2009

Memoir Monday - DATE FAIL

It's Memoir Monday as started by Travis at I Like To Fish. Since we know this new phenomenon is spreading like crabs through a high school football team, lets join the fun.


“…another blind date? That must be why they keep going out with you. They can’t see you….”
“Har har har, Dad”

I packed a hellacious amount of partying into a very compact two years. It is nothing short of providence that I never found myself in jail, the morgue or the fat farm. Man I miss that metabolism…. I went through a period in which I thought masochism Blind Dates would be a fun adventure. Looking back I think it was more that the budget was tight (because I’m an overachiever and bought my first house at 22) and I needed to eat. Scheduling a date each night of the week was just strategy. Some of the more memorable ones include the Insurance Salesman, Mr. Theraputic, Mr. Wine Connoisseur, Let’s Get It On and Mr. Seriously?.

The Insurance Salesman – best part of the date was the fabulous small Italian restaurant in which we met; very well known for the food and atmosphere.

FAIL #1 – he showed up in a plaid sports coat (yes, I was shallow and he looked like he stepped out of the Sears catalog circa 1970

FAIL #2 – Ordered for me without actually asking what I wanted AND spent the entire dinner talking about himself. I’m not sure he even paused to breathe and seemed to shovel food in between syllables.

Mr. Theraputic
FAIL #1 – he was a good 14 years older than I was. I usually dated older men but not THAT much older!

FAIL #2 – ENTIRE dinner spent telling me about the last 8 years of therapy, how much he still loves his ex-wife and that our ‘date’ was step 4 on the list his therapist gave him.

I know, you’re wondering why the hell I didn’t just get up and leave. See these were the first couple of experiences I had with blind dating. Not to be discouraged, I continued to allow friends to set me up (although the friends responsible for the two above only got the one shot. After those duds I refused any suggestions from said friends) only I lost the guilt in sneaking out the window in the bathroom and calling a cab, or my Sista.

Mr. Wine Connoisseur- this one started out great. We met at my most favorite restaurant- fantastic food and really great live jazz… The waitress arrives to take our drink orders and I order a glass of wine. Mr. WC tells the waitress to bring the entire bottle. I declined the offer and reaffirmed my ONE glass. He pins the waitress to the floor with his eyes and demands she bring the whole bottle. She nods slightly and all but runs away. He turns to me and says, “You should have the whole bottle. Red wine is a liquid panty remover” FAIL!
I did excuse myself and walk straight out the back door….

Let’s Get It On – we met at a great martini bar in the entertainment district. This place has famous Raspberry Martini’s….YUM YUM! The FAIL happened very early on thankfully. Twenty minutes into sitting at the bar he says, “Wanna go to my car for a smoke?”

“You’re welcome to smoke here. It won’t bother me.”

“Ahh…can’t smoke this up in public….” He says patting his pocket and looking shifty….

I called my sister from the bathroom and she picked me up while he was still enveloped by the fog in his car….ASSHAT!

Mr. SERIOUSLY? – the first date that was arranged I had to legitimately cancel. We rescheduled for a week later. This was the first and only blind date I allowed to pick me up. This was a friend of my roommate’s boyfriend so I felt safe in doing so. In hindsight I probably should have picked up on the first FAIL moment: preening he asks, “Do you like my jacket? My folks brought it back from China.” And this was approximately 30 seconds after opening my front door. What compelled me to brush past the question and walk my Duckalicious ass to his car, I’m not sure, unless it was the prospect of a fabulous dinner. The leather jacket was really great or it could’ve been the new knee high boots and the sass I was charged with when wearing them that retarded my ASSHAT radar. The evening was actually going fairly well and had the makings for an enjoyable night when he busts out with, “You know, I was really pissed you cancelled.”

WTF? “I am sorry about that. I tried to give you as much notice as I could” (I cancelled 3 days prior!)

“I figured I wasn’t gonna bother with you but decided to give you a second chance”.

I gulped the remainder of my wine (which was a travesty to the vintage) and replied, “How magnanimous of you. You are precisely the reason I don’t date people my own age,” and promptly stood, walked out the front door and down a few doors into a great wine bar and called Sista. She made a shit load of bills off me under the guise of gas money but I knew I could count on her.

I actually really enjoyed the blind dates and met some really great guys. I have some very fond memories of a few select people…

Please do share…what are some of the worst dating experiences you’ve had????

Friday, November 13, 2009


Today I bring you

Convos From The Hood II for the first installment click here.....

…health class….topic of Chris Brown and Rhianna and what the kids look for when choosing who to date…

Boy: Intelligence… I think that’s important.
Coach: so if you ask her what two plus two is and she says KOOLAIDE you prolly aint gonna take her out?

Girl: I want someone who can get into my spirit…(from what I hear everyone’s been in your spirit chickie)

Boy: low standards and cleavage
Coach: what was that? Good hygiene?
Coach: (…talking about respect…) You all have heard ‘Behind every great man is a strong woman’ NOT SO! She’s in front of him…especially at the grocery store…laughs at himself….
Coach: If you’re looking at marriage what does your mate have to have?
Girl: A J O B!
Girl to Coach: So what about boys that says theys gonna call you and they don’t. Whats up with that? Why they say theys gonna contact you when theys don’t? (sweetie, even at 30 we're still asking the same question)
Coach: maybe the pigeon got lost or something


Convo between Daffy and student T:
D: why haven’t you come to school in the last…oh…two months? Where have you been?
T: what? What you mean?
T: oh, uh…Hawaii…went on trip
D: to Hawaii (wondering about the significance of the word trip)
T: yes
D: mmmmm…uh.okaaay…How’d you get there?
T: Hawaii? Family…Hawaii we all went
D: Did you take the train?
T: smiling…Yes…
D: Wow…rode the train all the way to Hawaii? Long trip…
T: yup

 Prior to this convo with T, I was chatting via Blackberry Messenger - I DON'T TWITTER- with a fab Fisherman...the mobility of his humor often propells me through my days. He had this to say about T...

FisherOfStories: Its gonna be a long day.
Daffy: You can say that again
Daffy: Just for the record, I TOTALLY hate health class. Teacher rocks but the kids no so much! Grrrrr longest 90 mins of the day
FisherOfStories: Why the hell do you have to go to health?

Daffy: I have a kid on my caseload that shows up a couple of times a month. When he's here I gotta go to health

Daffy: Asshat needs to stay on his pimpin corner. He just comes to school to sell anyway

FisherOfStories: Damn.

Daffy: Don't knw why he bothers coming to class. This will b the only class he reports to all day

FisherOfStories: Ha! So he's a deaf dealer?

Daffy: Yup lol

FisherOfStories: Geez.

FisherOfStories: At least he's not letting his handicap restrict him.

***Still taking VOTES for your favorite ASSHAT definition submission. Click HERE to VOTE!****

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Veterans Tribute

How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world.
by William Shakespeare

Simple words could never begin to encompass the depth of appreciation I carry nor hope to touch the spanse of your bravery, your duty, your selflessness, your sacrifice, your courage, your skill, your honor...

My words are but all I have at this moment, and my freedom. Yes, my freedom...because of you...

Thank you!

Grandpa H
Grandpa V
Chelle (wives count too...without you, the man would not be what he is)
Ms. Shelly

....and all those whom I have never met and never will. Your sacrifices echos in each of our heart beats...

In the beginning of a change, the patriot is a scarce man, and brave, and hated and scorned. When his cause succeeds, the timid join him, for then it costs nothing to be a patriot.

by Mark Twain

Long awaited ASSHAT Definitions

Since its inception, ASSHAT, has been feverishly making the rounds and popping up in the most unusual places, much like John Gosslin.  Shortly after its first appearance here on BCC, I began receiving requests for a formal definition of the word. Because I like to spread the love (again a J. Gosslin reference) I asked my FABU followers to provide their own examples, definitions, pictures etc. of the word ASSHAT.

Many a follower offered up the names and mugshots of their husbands and baby-daddys. In the interest of complying with Federal Guidlines outlining inclusion in the witness protection program, I am not going to single out those of you who offered up this info. You will however have the satisfaction of knowing that I know what you did last summer who you are.

I should probably mention the second most popular suggestion as the epitomy of ASSHAT was Ed over at Ed's Funny Pages....hey! I don't make it up...I simply report the facts buddy....

1. I'm going to give you first the ONLY photo submission I received. This came from one awesomely fan-tabu-lous woman - That One Mom over at A Day in the Life; Chronicles of an Only Parent

Next, in no particular order:

2.HILLBILLY DUHN Asshat (as-hat) n. 1.generally speaking of a person who's chosen to shove themselves up another person's butt region. 2. Collectively wearing said person on your ass, could also be known as a pain in the ass. see: Hemorrhoid. 3. Also known as AssClown, one who generally talks shit and spews nothing but turd bombs from their face orface = shit talker.
Love a hillbilly - wear an asshat

3. TRAVIS at I Like To Fish:
Asshat noun-
1. A person who has passed beyond the douche stage and has moved to the next level of stupid and/or mean behavior.
Daffy just now told me that because I was in her corner, no one else would fit. She's such an asshat.

1. The act of head butting someone in the ass.
Geez, did you see Daffy asshat that kid at school today? She must have really been mad at him. She even got a running start!

4.LASZLO BROWN at Brown Sound
A person who talks out of his or her ass so much that he or she must wear a hat on it.

5.COFFEYPOT:  Asshat, according to a little site is just another way of saying you have your head up your ass. Your ass stretched over your head like a hat. I guess if you are a man and your dick is sticking out over your forehead then is could be called a asscap. The bill, ya know. Get it?
And according to one definition in the Urban Dictionary asshat is: One whose head is so far up their rear end it could pass for a hat; used to describe a person who is stubborn, cruel, or otherwise unpleasant to be around.

6.ERIN M at THE MOTHERLOAD: Honestly, I'm just not sure "asshat" is definable. It's just one of those that's a given. It's similar to asshole, but for some reason it's far more satisfying to say. It really helps me feel better to say "asshat" instead of "asshole."

7.LAUREN at (mis)Aventures in Theater
I worked in a carpentry shop for 4 years with a bunch of guys that are great friends of mine. Being a shop, I usually wore some sort of hat because it's college and why would I shower every day when I have sporty American headwear to cover the rat's nest that is my slept-on hair. I had recently received a (very cute) ladybug pin from my mother, which I decided was going to go on my favorite black U of M hat that I wore all the time. It's light pink. This is an important detail. So I go to school/work with newly bejeweled baseball cap with ladybug pin. At break time, one of the guys says to me, "Is that a butt on your hat?" And I'm all, "A what? NO! Dude, it's a ladybug." He comes closer and starts laughing. "Yeah, that totally looks like a butt from over here." So it was then dubbed my Asshat by myself and my co-workers, and we all had a great laugh. I wear my asshat when I mean business. It gets shit done.

Asshat - n. (Ah-ss-hah-tut)
1. a person who shows complete lack of respect for others. one who has a strong sense of self-entitlement. one who thinks they are better than their peers because of their income, belongings, car, job, etc.
see also: tool, douchebag, Hummer owners, Kanye West

2. a hat made for or from the ass.
see also: fanny pack, lyrics from verse 3, line 2 of Lotion by the Greenskeepers

8.RELUCTANT HOUSEWIFE: An asshat is a hat for your ass. Duh. Ha. I crack myself up... but seriously here my definition: 'Asshat' is an insult used for someone who's such a giant, obnoxious loser that they don't even get to be an asshole. They're just the hat - an accessory to the real thing.

okay now VOTE VOTE VOTE!
Put your vote in the comment section for your favorite submission...the winning submission will get something. I haven't figured out what you'll get yet. I'm busy lazy like that... just can't decide if it will be a guest post...If I'll come up with a super cool award that can be displayed on the winning blog or if I'll actually send you something. May just be a great virtual pat on the, VOTE!

**A special thanks to everyone who offered submissions! I love your blogs and I'm tickled that you follow mine! Your presence here makes my world go round (and my pants vibrate - you know all the comments are sent to my phone...) Group participation is such a cool thing! Thanks for being the KOOL KIDS!

Monday, November 9, 2009

Memoir Monday - That's Smart

It's Memoir Monday as started by Travis at I Like To Fish. Since we know this new phenomenon is spreading like crabs through a high school football team, lets join the fun.


(as displayed on Travis' blog: Hey guys! It's Memoir Monday! Everyone should know what to do, just steal my little button code down there, then paste it onto the Edit HTML section on your post. Type up a memoir, spank yourself a little, and call it a win! The only rule? It must be true. So go on! Get you some!)

"Oh Dolly, that looks so smart!”, her approval was evident in the smile she radiated as I modeled the new outfit she picked. She had on a pale peach, her favorite color, warm-up suit with the always handy Kleenex tucked under the left cuff of her jacket sleeve. It was August and Back To School Shopping time with Grandma V. She was my best friend and even at the self-absorbed age of 13 I knew her battle with cancer was rapidly advancing through very difficult stages. It would be one of our last trips but the most memorable.

Grandma and Mom sat talking and laughing in the front seat as we headed home from our excursion to JC Penny. I don’t remember paying much attention to the conversation until Grandma began telling an odd sort of story…

“….I was streetin down the walk and this bark came up and dogged at me so I sticked up a pick and blocked his knock off….”

I was afraid. Very afraid. Had anyone noticed? Did she know that sounded all wrong? Was it me? Before I could open my mouth mom and Grandma dissolved into tear drenched giggles. Finally catching on (because I’m real quick like that) I begged Grandma to repeat her story. Over and over and over I practiced and recited committing it to memory.

When I became of age (read 21) and a lush ...err...binger responsible drinker, this little ditty would become my bar stool standard for measuring the drunkenness of the asshat hitting on me. I would work the ditty into the conversation and if he didn’t bat an eye but nodded as though it made perfect sense I knew for certain the asshat was blasted and I could take gross advantage of his offer to buy a drink or ten for me and all my friends. If by chance he laughed (as some did) and asked if I meant to say that I would make a polite exit and call it a loss. The ‘Girls” always invited me out especially when the booze fund was low…

Friday, November 6, 2009

The 2nd Ring of Hell

In eight years as a staff interpreter, I’ve only worked with the sub-human species, here after referred to as middle schoolers, for one semester. The great Duckalicious can handle quite a bit of Batcrap Crazy shit without blushing or feeling violent – I’m good like that. So when I tell you the vulgar words, crude gestures and loud obscenities being heckled at me by a group of 7th graders made me more uncomfortable that Tony Soprano in the throws of a drug raid – you know it was so far beyond NC-17 Jenna Jameson would’ve been blushing. (if you don’t know who that is, Google the name….) That was the day I demanded a transfer. Previous to that stellar experience I was forced to adjust my daily schedule so I was not in the hallways during passing times lest I be groped. Boys would push each other up the stairs forcing one another to fall into my ba-donkidonk. Of course, I was 22 at the time so my ba-donkidonk was situated further north than today. But on to the highlights of the 2nd ring of hell….

A classic game of Sink The Sub: 6th grade Science
Total chaos ensues as the sub enters the room at the sound of the bell…in hindsight it was probably a well planned diversion allowing for one rather short prepubescent boy to belly crawl around the corner of the teacher’s desk Bic lighter in hand            ---flame flaring---
The smell of smoke reached the sub’s nose well before the realization that it was he that was smoking. His left pant leg to be specific…

Taste Testing Party: no, it wasn’t Home Economics class….it was the same science class as the above fire experiment – different sub though. A lovely young lady brought a whole gift pack of flavored edible warming massage oil. Each bottle made the rounds while 25 tongues flicked a lick. Wild cherry was the top pick – just incase you were wondering….

Mine is Bigger Than Yours: 7th grade history class…the back corner of the classroom was a popular hang out spot. Why no one bothered to police that corner…actually ignorance is bliss was the school motto – so on with the story….Girl #1 and Girl #2 are in a heated debate as to whose is bigger. I’m trying my best to go to my Happy Place. Experience tells me I do not want to know what they are talking about. Despite my mental pleas, the Happy Place door is locked and ignorance becomes searing knowledge. Girl #1 whips out a large pink bunny vibrator and says, “See! Top THAT bish!”

Girl #2 – “Girl! Get outta yo feelins and smoke this!” to which she pulls a large purple dildo complete with a massive sack. They giggle as girl 2 changes the batteries…..that SHE GOT FROM THE TEACHER!

***heel clicking…there’s no place like home….there’s no place like home…there’s no place like home……

Thursday, November 5, 2009

I'm A LOSER -Damn Yankees

...because my word is my bond and I LOST a little bet with a certain fisherman I give you the following from my email VERBATEM.... 

It is at this point in my life that I would like to say how wonderful and great Travis is, over at I Like To Fish... His blog is an inspiration to my day, and it makes me laugh until I hurt in places that haven't hurt since that one night in Pasadena. His prose is littered with the kind of comical genius comparable only to Chris Farley, Larry The Cable Guy, Horatio Sanz, and several other fat funny guys. I look forward to his posting so much, that I have to constantly ask him daily when the next post is going up. I wish he could type forever, but I know he doesn't have that kind of stamina. I have 88 followers now, and he just has 80. That means at least 8 of you should go follow him, because he is truly truly the most awesome thing to ever open an eBlogger account. I have a blog crush on him, and I learned last night to never take the underdog in the World Series when they aren't playing at home.

There ya have it! I'd like it done in red, please. Also, make sure you put a link on the I Like To Fish...!
Do not take life too seriously. You will never get out of it alive. -Elbert Hubbard

****UPDATE*** I just got punched in the throat (virtual style) by a certain fisherman who shall remain nameless - the sadistic bastahd....I guess I was suppose to remove the quotes and post as though I thought up such rhetoric myself. So please, erase what you just read from your mind, and RE read it keeping hold of the following subliminal thought  THESE ARE DAFFY'S WORDS...STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART OF DAFFY'S BOTTOM........***** just as a side note, I do totally HEART Trav and his blog! He really does rock and if you aren't following him you should! Shame on YOU! Santa would be so disappointed you coal-gettin' naughty asshat!

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Word To Your Mother

I believe it has been well established that I work in a high school. It provides a good deal of material for this Duckalicious BATCRAP CRAZY blog. I keep a gallon size jug of Motrin on my desk at work. I find excessive repetitive eyerolling (the kind where your eyebrows kiss your hairline and you don't need botox because your face has frozen in the bug-eyed eyebrowless expression) to which I am chronically prone produces the most heinous of headaches. Sometimes I have to chant OMMMMM or count backwards from 1 million to allow time for my brain to mouth filter to engage lest I lose my job flapping my yams. So when my pops sent this to me yesterday, I figured I'd share this with y'all instead of climbing on my soap box and preaching about lack of responsibility in today's youth, the astronomical sense of entitlement and the batcrap crazy shit thier parents pull (who are mere children themselves). So, without further pontification and bitching I give you this....

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Mamma said there'd be days like this -sort of

Ya, I'm poaching again. Look people, the kid ain't sista had surgery yesterday...hubs is sick...the dog puked on the bed two minutes BEFORE I wanted to get in it.... if you unfollow me after this I'll hunt you down. Try me! I'm as tenacious as a pitbull on the leg of Pamela Anderson....yeah, its like that....

Here are my lame ones.......