Caught In The Act

Incriminating photos from Saturday's party:

Tricks & Treats

The Cheap Thrills party on Saturday night was a spooktacular success: big turn-out, faboo costumes, massive amounts of liquor, and major booty-shakin' on the dance floor. I'm taking two disposable cameras over to the drugstore now to get them developed; look for pictures & running commentary later today.

Thanks to everyone who came, especially the lovely soul who left me almost an entire bottle of Tangeray, and big wet smooches to Crystal, Concert Josh and Cousin Matt for helping with clean up patrol.

Happy Halloween, kids. Get smashed!

Converted!

Michelle finally gets on board the Rhett Love Bus!


The show was excellent, a nice balance of Rhett's solo stuff and Old 97's gems, including a rendition of "Four Leaf Clover" that kicked seven kinds of ass. Plus we saw some of the Permanent Front Row Party Posse. Great way to spend a Wednesday night. Thanks for having us, Elle! [Above photo of Rhett yumminess provided by Fabulous Front Row Annie.]

How To Be The Weirdest Guy At A Concert
... In 8 Easy Steps!
1. Get there early. Be the only person standing near the stage before the show starts. Position yourself 12 inches directly in front of the mic.
2. Stand there alone and stare at the opening act while he struggles to avoid your gaze. Remain expressionless.
3. Stare at the headlining singer during his entire set and two encores. Remain expressionless.
4. DO NOT sing along with the crowd.
5. DO NOT dance/sway/remove hands from pockets.
6. Blink only when necessary.
7. Incur speculation that you keep the mounted heads of rockstars on the walls of your den.
8. Generally skeeve out everyone in the room, YOU BIG FREAK.

Dear Rhett,
Thanks for such a good show. I hope you're not dead in a ditch somewhere in Wisconsin. See you tonight!
Love,
Tequila Red

Cheap Thrills
Big Halloween shindig tomorrow night at Casa de Tequila. If you're coming, remember: booze is the magic elixir of life. Bring some.

Mommie Dearest

I don't claim to be The World's Best Mother. I have precious little patience, occasionally raise my voice, and spend time reading when I should be playing. I dose them up with Tylenol and send them to school when they aren't feeling well. I make them wear the same pants two days in a row if I can't be bothered with laundry. I don't cook, at all, ever.

But no matter how many shortcomings I have in the parental department, there's always someone worse.

Tonight

HOT. DAMN.

Concert Josh and I are driving up to Mad Mad Madison this evening to hang with my most favoritest paralegal at the Rhett Miller show. In case you're new, I LOVE RHETT MILLER LIKE I LOVE BREATHING. Which is why we're also going to see him in Chicago on Friday.

Holy! I've gotta hit the ladies room before I pee myself with excitement. Here, listen to Rhett's purdy voice while I'm gone.

"Rollerskate Skinny"
"Four Leaf Clover"
"Doreen"
"Won't Be Home"

The Official Announcement

Someone you know was picked as the first evs Bloggin Hottie Of The Day.

In case you missed it.

That's Not My Butt

Any time my sister and/or I are in the same room as a disposable camera, it's a pretty safe bet that someone's developing a roll of film with a down-the-shirt or up-the-skirt shot on it. Even (especially?) if we're at a friend's fancy-ass wedding:

BUT the funny part was when I handed over my table pictures from the wedding. They pass them around and as they are doing so I realized I forgot to take out the one of Tequila Red. I don't say anything and hope that no one points it out and asks "whats this one of?" Well, needless to say it went thru my Mom, Brother and Aunt without anyone saying anything, until they reached my Dad. Yup, he pulls it out, turns it from side to side and asks "whats this one of? heehee! it looks like someone's butt..."

Read the rest on Melmar's blog. Sorry, Melmar's Dad.

$3 Reality Check

Whenever I grow weary of citylife and all the crime, traffic, litter, congestion, and 10 year olds dressed like pimps that come with it, there is one place in the world I can count on to give me some perspective and make me really appreciate my life.

That place is the Wounded Minnow.

A tacky small town bar with all the charm of a two dollar whore, the Minnow is full of people who haven't changed - for better or worse - one iota in the past decade. It's cover bands and warm pitchers of Bud and unfortunate fashion choices; mall hair and Polo and bad dancing. And it's enough to turn me into a bona fide City Asshole who looks around with thinly veiled disdain, chugs one beer and hits the door like her shoes are on fire.

I like to go whenever I'm home.

* * * * * *
The Boyfriend-Family introductions went as smoothly as predicted, with nary a beer-spitting incident all weekend. The Tequila Red Hometown Tour™ included a trip to my favorite thrift store, my former high school, the home of my town's most famous resident (Ed Lowe, inventor of kitty litter!), Wal-Mart, and a farm with two gay horses.

Concert Josh was also forced to hold a baby, listen to copious amounts of country music, pretend to listen to my dad talk about golf, and watch Pretty Woman instead of the World Series.

And STILL he likes me.

His Turn

Tomorrow I'm headed home to Michigan for some quality time with the fam, and my Special Man Friend is coming with. For the record, this is the first time I've brought a boy home to meet the parents since 1994. HO. LEE. SHIT.

I'm actually not too worried about it though. I know Josh will like my parents, and they'll definitely like him. He's sweet, he makes me happy, and he's a Notre Dame fan. Seriously, what's not to love?

Maybe he should bring ice cream, just in case.

5 Phrases I Hope Not To Hear This Weekend
"When's the wedding?"
"Let's watch home videos!"
"Your daughter is very bendy."
"You did quit smoking, right?"
"So. This Half-Nekkid Thursday thing."

* * * * * *
Dear Notre Dame,

After last weekend, I just can't take more heartache. To string me along like that and not come through in those final crucial seconds ... it's just not right. Look, I know you didn't lose on purpose but it still hurt. Make it up to me, baby. Win Saturday. Win BIG. Beat those Mormons senseless. Shake down the thunder like you used to. And for godsake THROW THE BALL TO SAMARDZIJA.

Love,
TR


Dear Chicago White Sox,
Hang on .... let me check something ... nope, still don't care.
Whatevs,
TR


Dear Other Josh:
I know where your parents can get a new cat for cheap. Think about it.
Love,
TR

* * * * * *
FYI
Not everyone in my family loves Notre Dame.

My sister's husband: not amused

Barefoot

Either 14 crack dealers just set up shop in the parking lot across from my office or this is some kind of wacky street art.

Puppy Chow

On our way out of Walgreens last night, we passed the neighborhood StreetWise vendor, who carries around an adorable mini Yorkie for added heartstring-pulling power. My kids couldn't resist stopping to pet the tiny pup. "Oh my god," Dylan gushed. "Your dog is so cute! I could just eat it. If it didn't have fur and tasted like pizza."


Mmmmm, puppy.

* * * * *

Bad Idea
"So Dylan," I said. "What are you going to be for Halloween?"

He grinned. "I've got a SWEET costume, Mom. I'm going as a pimp! I've got a pimp stick and everything!"

He saw the look on my face and hastily added, "But I'm not going to use it, of course."

Dear Ex-Husband,
We need to talk.
Sincerely,
TR

"Your Girlfriend is Drunk"

Every time I think I might have done okay with the Boyfriend's family this weekend, I start to overanalyze. Did I drink too much? Smoke too much? Talk too much? Was that whiskey shot in front of his mom a poor idea? Was it wrong to pick the football game over church? Concert Josh insists that everything was fine and they liked me, but I'm just not sure. The next time I meet them, I swear I'll be the sweet, demure angel you all know I really am.

Oh, shut it.

HIGHLIGHT:
Saturday night, I was having a beer and watching the White Sox game with Concert Josh's dad. He said something utterly hilarious right when I took a sip. End result: I SPIT BEER ALL OVER MY BOYFRIEND'S FATHER. "Hi, meet my girlfriend Kari! Here, you might need a towel."

Speak of the Devil
So this one Chicago baseball team is in the World Series or something? And like the whole city is totally freaking out? Except for me? Cuz I don't care? Dudes. The only way I'll be rooting for the White Sox next week is if they're playing the Cardinals. Tony La Russa is Satan.

Shhhh
I have a secret. I'll tell ya later.

Burgled

Someone broke into my house last night. I don't think they took anything, and I'm actually a little offended. I mean, they went through my underwear drawer and found the little box with my wedding ring in it. Apparently they were underwhelmed. X-box? Nope. Computer? Nope. Credit cards in my purse, Josh's iPod, the stereo? No, no, no. Not worth the effort, I guess.

I joke, but really, the idea of someone walking around my house and going through my stuff is extremely unnerving. And what if I'd come home alone and they were there? Or what if they broke in when the kids were home? They broke in by pushing an air conditioner in - and it was screwed to the window. Scary.

* * * * *
United States of Electronica
In happier news, last night's U.S.E. show totally freaking rocked. We danced our asses off and made a ton of new friends. Some chick grabbed Josh and said, "Oh my god, is that your girlfriend? I love her!" After the show we went upstairs and continued the dance party with the band. Then we met up with Josh's friend Matt, who's in town playing a show tonight at Schuba's, go see it, and closed down Estelle's. I smoked approximately 4000 cigarettes. Things hurt.

Hooky
I didn't feel like going to work today. Neither did Josh. So we didn't.

Meet the Parents
Tonight I meet pretty much everyone in Concert Josh's family. We're going to the burbs for his grandparents' 50th anniversary party. I'm sure it will be fine but the last time I met someone's folks I was 19. Also, I have nothing to wear.

Tomorrow

GO IRISH!!

The Verdict

Concert Josh came over last night to meet the little people. Olivia took to him right away, partly because of the ice cream and partly because she whomped him in three straight games of Uno. Dylan showed his approval by being only slightly more obnoxious than usual. We kept the visit to an hour and then I called bedtime. As Dylan crawled under the covers he gave me a cryptic look. "So, Mom, tell me this: why do we have to go to bed so early, HUH?"

"What do you mean, early? It's 9:30. That's your bedtime."

He rolled his eyes at me. "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Have fun."

Word of the Day
Mortification (more • ti • fi • kay • shun) n.: what you feel when your 10 year old child makes insinuating comments about your sex life. See also: horror, humiliation, and OMG HE'S TEN.

* * * * * *
Cheap Thrills: The Party
Sent out evites yesterday to the big Halloween party I'm apparently throwing on Oct 29th. If you didn't get one and you want to come, shoot me an email. My fancy new computer - iBook! G4! Yay! - hates my old skool Outlook address book and refuses to even look at it. So I probably left some peeps out.

For those of you planning to attend, I know we said costumes were optional but THEY'RE REALLY NOT. Need help deciding what to be? I'll happily make suggestions. This one is for The Jade:


nice puppies, lady

Three Truths & A Lie

Saw this on Obasso's excellent blog the other day, and hey, at least it's not about pooters. So here we go:

1) I remember the name of every person I've ever slept with.
2) I used to be a registered Republican.
3) I once went shopping with Shaquille O'Neal.
4) I'm not allowed to donate blood because I used to live in Europe.

Three of the four are true, but maybe not the ones you think. I'm such a mystery.

Monday Morning Sign Post Wisdom

Word.

The Big Stink

This morning after the alarm went off, I hit the snooze button and snuggled back under the covers with my warm, sleepy boyfriend. We spooned close together and had almost drifted back into sleep when it happened. The last thing any girl wants to do in front of her new boyfriend. That's right, kids:

I farted.

Cut the cheese. Broke wind. Let one rip. Shot a bunny. It wasn't any cute little girly squeak either. Nope, this one was a real honker. And worst of all, I did it RIGHT ON HIM.

He tried to pretend he was sleeping but I knew better. After a few seconds of paralyzing mortification, I mumbled "well, pardon ME" and retreated to my side of the bed, silently cursing last night's Mexican food.

Yes, yes, I know. It's a normal bodily function, blahdee blah blah. So is poo, and I don't want him to see me doing that. But let's face it - The Fart is a landmark you must pass (heh) in every relationship. It's embarassing but it's also inevitable, and at some point you just have to be comfortable enough with each other to laugh off the occasional air biscuit. And for us to get to that point, something else is going to have to happen.

He's going to have to do it too.

Sunday's Dinner Menu:
• Beans
• Cheese
• Sauerkraut
• Chili
• Curry rice
• Broccoli
• Burritos as big as your head

My Crush On Vinny

The Original Hot Married Boyfriend™ is in town this week and we're meeting for drinks tonight. I'm telling you all right now: I love this man. Vince is sardonic and sarcastic and hilariously, unrelentingly pessimistic. I love that. He's a rabid Notre Dame fan and he looks more than a little like Joseph Fiennes. He's married to a great girl and they have one kid and another on the way. LOVE HIM. We worked together years and years ago and I had a massive crush on him. I confessed over French fries; he let me down in the nicest possible way. Now he lives in Kentucky and we've kept in touch with fairly regular phone calls that always start the same way: "Hiya sweetheart!" There's never been so much as a smooch between us, and never will there be. But Jesus Marie does that man know how to work a pair of blue jeans.


J.F. will play Original Hot Married Boyfriend in the movie

* * * * * *
8 Things I Don't Care About Today

• The White Sox
• Nick & Jessica's deeeevorce
• LiLo's latest car crash
• Missing Lost and Alias tonight
• The new nickle
• My cat (who DIES the next time he pees on the floor)
• Everything in, on or around my desk
• Jennifer Aniston

* * * * * *
The Texas Lotto
You gotta play to win, y'all!


Harriet gets a job

This Is a First

So it looks like the Boyfriend is going to meet my short roommates.

In the five years I've been divorced, they've never been introduced to anyone I dated. Mostly because those were disposable relationships with limited lifespans, dudes I had no intention of keeping around. The one time I did date someone for a longer period of time, he didn't want to meet the kids, which worked out good since I like to limit their exposure to complete assholes.

Guys usually got the spiel on the first date. "I have two kids. They live with me half the time, they already have a daddy, and they don't meet the people I date. Wanna see my tongue ring?" 99% of the time it was no big deal, and the guy either shrugged it off or claimed to impressed by my mad maternal skillz. Plus, one of the perks of dating a single mom is: you know she puts out. Ba-dum-BUM. CHA!

(Dear Dad: Not really.)

((Dear everyone else: Totally.))

Anyway, that's the way it's been up 'til now and I think it was the way to go. But one of my friends pointed out recently that I might not need to be so rigid about it this time. They're a little older, they already know about him, and he's a great guy who wants to meet them. So maybe it doesn't have to be a Big Deal. Maybe it can just be ... dinner.

As long as he brings ice cream, we're golden.

* * * * * *
Of interest only to immediate family: the Bons meets Peyton. Oh my GAWD the cuteness.

Recipe for Disaster

Start with one 21 year old cousin and a book of bartender's shots. Mix in various amounts of Jager, vodka, Bailey's, grenadine, Rumpleminzt, and Blue Curacao. Marvel at pretty layered shots before tossing them back like candy. Get belligerent with boyfriend and run around like maniac. Pass out on couch. Wake up 7 hours later with no pants on. Hope you didn't take them off in front of your uncle. Burn with shame.

TIP! If a shot is called a Brain Hemorrhage, that may be the first clue that you shouldn't drink it.

Hangover Breakfast
Aunt Kathy's specialty: smoked bacon.


Ominous
Boyfriend politely declined an invitation to sleep over at my place last night. Vague references to laundry were made.

Campy

Every year my aunts, uncles and cousins get together for a family reunion of sorts. We all meet at Aunt Kathy's house out in the boondocks of Indiana, throw some tents up in her massive backyard and build a big ole bonfire. There's S'mores and weenie roasting [insert your own joke here; frankly, I can't be bothered] and lots and LOTS of drinking. We play fierce games of eucher and Cranium, and after dark there's a boys-vs-girls game of Ditch'em, sort of a complicated Tag For Grownups that usually results in some sort of injury and a shitload of cursing. Sometimes there are singalongs of 60's songs; always we belt out Happy Birthday to my Gram, a fiesty lady who - though no longer with us - surely still approves of such shenanigans in her honor.

This year's Fall Fun Fest happens today, and Concert Josh is going. It'll be the first time he's met anyone from my family, except my sister.

If he still likes me on Monday I'll let you know.

Bonita
Best wishes and fish kisses to my lovely friend Salome, as she sets off today to go teach English in the rural reaches of Nicaragua. It was decided at dinner last night that a blog is a wonderful thing and she must start one immediately so we can all keep track of her adventures and view many pictures of hott Latin American men. It's unfortunate that she'll have to travel several hours by llama to reach the nearest Internet cafe (that's how I'm picturing it, anyway) but that's the price one pays when one does unbelievably cool things I need to experience vicariously. Go save the world, girl! We're proud of you, and miss you already.


kooky Salome & Kari

cute Salome & Kari

Duh
In case you're wondering, yes, all my friends ARE cooler than me.