Nashville For Dummies

Who Also Happen To Be Lovestruck, Underage, and Extremely Gullible

So, Lotus clearly hates you and wants you to be miserable, and I know this because she asked me* to guest post for her. I only agreed because I actually have some valuable information to share with you, her devoted readers. You see, I remembered that there is some blog get-together thingy going on in Nashville in February, and I realized that many of you dear Sarcastic Mom readers will probably be going to that, if for no other reason than to get a view of The Rack close up. Something you don’t know is that I am The World’s Leading Authority on visiting Nashville.

Because I did.

Once.

So naturally, I am more than obliged to provide you all my expert advice on navigating through Lotus’ hometown and getting yourself good and married in 17 easy steps. Prepare to be dazzled.

Fall head over heels in love with your bald, fat, 9 years older than you restaurant manager before you even come close to your twenties.

Let him take wild advantage of you, your car, your ability to both drive legally and go more than 17.39 seconds without snorting anything up your nose.

Hunt him down over the course of 18 months after he takes off from Denver to Nashville with little more than a “So long and thanks for all the fish” mumbled in your general direction one day.

Drive 23 hours straight through the pouring rain to spend two long, glorious weeks winning him back. In Nashville. That’s the key to this whole thing working.

Get to his apartment after getting totally turned around trying to go straight through on the 65 only to end up on some horrible, middle of the night, lost and alone goosechase that lands you on the 40, which is weird only because the 65 and the 40 don’t exactly hit each other even remotely closely to where you wanted to be in the first place.

After finally arriving, have the most awkward make up sex the world has ever known, or ever will know, and watch as he over the span of four hours goes from professing his undying love and suggesting marriage to forgetting you ever existed in the first place. Make sure this happens within your first 24 hours there, so you’re certain to have 13 more days to be stuck waiting for your next paycheck to be deposited so you can get the hell out of there already.

Get fed up 10 days into your 14 day stay because you’ve been stuck in his apartment with his roommate that you don’t even know, you’ve read all your books, and it’s still raining all around you. Realize you are a rain god.

Get into your car and drive. ANYWHERE. End up dead smack in the middle of downtown Nashville, totally on accident. Park and walk. ANYWHERE. Check out Vanderbilt. Follow the river for a ways and end up in some back alley bar with a fabulous live band and a fabulous random guy more than willing to buy you drinks all night.

Get said guy’s number.

Call said guy in front of dipshit ex-boss.

Get taken out by jealous ex-boss to a company function, get introduced as “the bff” and later that night get asked to move to Nashville with him. WITH him.

Drive 23 hours back to Denver, straight, and start packing your life up. If you survive the Kansas stretch.

Get a call at work two weeks later from the man you’re planning to spend the rest of your life with saying he’s just met the woman he plans to spend the rest of his life with.

Die.

Get the hot guy at work shit-faced drunk and nail him in your car to make it all go away.

Marry hot guy from work.

Thank god for small favours. And Jack Daniels.

*Me would be Mr Lady, which is of absolutely no relevance whatsoever to the post.
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Mr. Lady is an amazing writer, a hell of a strong woman, and a damn sexy broad. She authors Whiskey In My Sippy Cup. Not being subscribed to her website is like waking up in the morning and finding out someone has removed both of your lungs. (Have you ever woken up dead? Don’t start tomorrow… visit her today.)

Besides.  There’s a half-naked photo of her on her sidebar, for crying out loud! Go.Now.

PS: She asked me not to blurb her because it makes her uncomfortable, but I like it when hot chicks squirm.

I thought it would be harder. Haha, I said… oh, nevermind.

Today’s Photohunt theme is “String(s)”

When I first saw the theme for today’s Photohunt, I thought it was going to be really hard. I know some people just go take a new picture, but I find it’s more fun for me to try to find a picture I’ve already taken that will fit the theme. So, nothing came to mind, and I felt… challenged. But that’s the point, right?

So here’s my take:

A STRING hangs from the middle of these chimes, with a wooden piece attached, out of frame.

A long STRING of lights is woven in and around this animatronic deer’s body.

This is a bunched-up STRING of tinsel garland.

This Angel has a STRING you can use to hang her from a tree.

These bells are hanging from a STRING.

(Hm, Christmas-Time is a very STRINGY time of year, isn’t it?)

Kind of obvious. Shoe STRING.

Some STRINGY pumpkin guts.

And, and look!

When John finally decided to stop STRINGING me along.

(but i didn’t take this one, Joan Williams, our premarital counselor, did. She rocks!)

A decidedly different post than this past Friday’s.

I am sitting here, at my computer, with my brow furrowed, writing.

It is 1:18 am.

About 30 minutes ago, and after struggling fitfully for some time, my eyes opened wide (imagine the cartoon sound-mixture of breaking glass and squealing brass horns, and picture red veins in my eyes) and I gave up trying to go back to sleep with the buzzsaw next to me droning on endlessly.

Annoyed, I snatched up my pillow.  I resisted the rather strong temptation to hold it over John’s face.

Instead, I quietly (can stomping be referred to as quiet?) left the room and stumbled down the stairs (YAY FOR STAIRS!NOT.) to the couch.

After having finally quieted the seemingly endless stampede of noisy elephants in my brain that is my mind refusing to shut the HELL up when I want to go to sleep (does that ever happen to you?) I was starting to drift back towards the edge of slumber.  In fact, the wispy tendrils of sleep sent by the sandman were already winding their way into my hair and tickling my cheeks.

Suddenly, a small sound crept down the stairs and around the bend, hurrying to reach me before I escaped to my dreamworld.  It grew quickly, and (was I imagining it?) truimphantly it danced across my face with heavy feet, ripped its way down the auditory canals and bitch slapped my eardrums.  

I was not slow to identify it as the evil.snoring.from.hell.

It is completely normal and sane to lie on your couch half-naked well past midnight, biting your lip, clutching your pillow, and thinking about putting some “special powder” in your husband’s morning coffee.

I am so not deranged and psychotic.

*cartoon-sound: cuckoo clock*

I love you, John.

Online we first met
and he wrote a word that I
found hilarious.

In that old chat room
my future husband typed out
the great word, “brown-eye.”

Just friends at that time,
but his use of that silly
word made me like him.

A little over
two and a half years later
we were united.

The ceremony
was simple. All that mattered
was our real, shared love.

We celebrate now,
our fourth complete year married.
Today is that day.

Our journey has not
always been completely smooth,
but such is our life.

I would never choose
another path; destiny
gave me my best friend.

You have my heart, John.
For me there is no other,
and never will be.

The Boys Are Back In Town

And do you know how freaking happy I am about that?

John’s been gone since October 28th, and it has SUCKED. He is regularly out and about in the country with Chris Cagle, so it’s not like I’m not used to this sort of thing (being used to it doesn’t mean I ever have to like it).

This stint apart was just pretty poopariffic, because he had just gotten home from a trip where he missed my birthday (damnit!) and then he had to leave on the very same day to go galavanting around the country again, playing his funky music, white boy.

Show up and then leave on the same day? Can you say TEASER? Ugh.

At least we got to have a family fun day @ Honeysuckle Hill Farm. A place I highly recommend you visit if you live in or around the Nashville, TN area, btw. (There’s some more stalker info for you depraved lunatics. But it’s not like it’s not on my profile anyway. Okay, so that was more stalker info for the LAZY, depraved lunatics.)

By the way, if you also missed my birthday (October 27), it’s not too late to send chocolates and flowers, and any money you find lying around. And mark your calendars for next year, so you can throw me a big party like you meant to this year. It’s okay, I can wait another year. Just make it good.

As for my “wahwaahhh, I miss my husband” whining – I know there are ladies out there who have to miss their Loves for much longer at a time than I do… but I’m being self-centered here (haha, when am I not? This entire PAGE IS ABOUT ME).

This man does things like send me this:

Feel the Love

Overheard in the kitchen night before last, while preparing a late dinner together…

*dishes clinking*

Lotus: I like you.

John: *warm smile*

Lotus: I don’t think I tell you that enough.

John: *appreciative smile*

*pause*

Lotus: But maybe that’s your fault for not making me FEEL like telling you that very often.

John: *blank stare*

Lotus:*smirk* Ohhhh! Way to snatch back a good feeling! Woo!

John: Feel the love! *mumbling* It was here a minute ago…

Because He Rocks

Just felt like throwing this picture on the proverbial table.

It’s an old favorite of mine. He rocks.

Codeine and God

My back is actually feeling better today. I’m pretty surprised, considering I’m usually laid up with this type of pain for about a week before it gets better. It’s still a little tender, but much better.

So, last night I drank a cup of coffee at about 10pm. Why? Because I’m a loser and lately I’ve been getting really tired before I’m ready to sign off for the night. A little later, we popped in our latest Netflix DVD, Lord of War (pretty darn good). I kept shifting around on the couch trying to find a comfortable position.

Shifting really doesn’t help.

I caved and took a BC powder dose. Wee! This crap not only has a butt-load of aspirin in it, but it also has a nice shot of caffeine. Yay, now I had more than just the cup of coffee running through my blood.

About 30 minutes later, still in agony, I really caved and took codeine (co-codamol).

Later, at bed-time, I rolled over on my side and felt a warm hand on my lower back.

“Lord, please make my wife’s back feel better.”

Silence.

[John] “I love you.”

“Are you still talking to God?”

“No.”

“Oh. I love you, too.”

Pause.

“Amen.” (smart ass)

Pause.

[Me] “Stop trying to have a 3-way with me and God.”

I blame the codeine.