Young Love

As the last lazy days of summer are winding down here in Weaselville, Mr. Weasel and I decided to take some time to make the most of a quiet Sunday afternoon and the abundance of sunshine that the day had to offer.

We snuck out of the house all by ourselves.  We didn't bring the dog, nor did we allow any Weasels to tag along as they are wont to do each and every time that the Mr. and I try to escape for a quiet walk.

We wandered the neighborhood, hand in hand, and decided to stop when we came to the pond, who's banks of freshly cut grass were incredibly inviting.  We sat down on the bank and drank in the warmth of the cloudless sky as we cuddled and talked in a scene that is now oddly reminiscent of a Cialis commercial.  Things that make you go hmmm.

I felt like a teen again, only better because I had no fear of one of my parents walking by and spotting us.  I snuggled into Mr. Weasel's arms and coyly asked him, "If you were a teenager right now, show me what you would be doing", with an air of mischievousness in my eyes.

As Mr. Weasel started to follow my lead and played along, I leaned in and whispered into his ear, "Keep this in mind the next time your 16 year old daughter wants to take 'a walk down by the pond'".

'Cause we all know, that I am great when it comes to laying traps to snare innocent victims into special moments.

Knights Not Easily Forgotton

You know when you start reminiscing with old friends and they bring up stories that you had totally forgotten about and then you can laugh yourself silly as the memories come flooding back? Yeah, that's not what this post is about. This is about one those memories that gets drudged up that everyone else laughs about and you are still pissed ever happened 20+ years later.

Let's take a trip in the way back machine. I was in college and in need of a job. A friend dragged me off to a far away 'frat party' with the lure of "the Coors Light Girls will be there and so will a rep. You can ask about a job. I bet they get paid pretty well". So off we went.

When we arrive at the party, the first people we pass are these guys on the front porch.I am thinking to myself, I am going to kill my friend. This is not a frat party or even a college party. These kids are in high school. Get me outta here!!!!!! There is no way that Coors is showing up to this flop house.

The guys introduce themselves - way to self confident for what they were offering. We politely responded by saying hello and make our way inside. My friend swears up and down that these are college guys and she just has to find her boyfriend Pee-Wee (yeah, I know. Who would admit their boyfriend's name is Pee-Wee?). I'm not convinced, but she is my ride, so I am kind of stuck and this is the crowdI tried to make the best of things and be a good sport. However, I was one of only 2 girls at the party and my friend ditched me in the other room. All the guys were drunk and one even mistook me for the paid entertainment he hoped someone else had ordered. He pulled out a roll of quarters and was raring to go before he passed out face down on the couch.

Some guy who I'll call Randy, because that is how he smelled, started trying to hit on me. Until suddenly he switched gears and started throwing a temper tantrum about the golf he played earlier in the day.

A knight in shining velor soon came to rescue me. He said his name was 'Yellow Cake'. What is it with these guys and their names? He got me a beer and was pleasant enough to chat with. He assured me that Coors reps were coming (some body's Uncle's cousin or something). Yellow Cake said he was a football player and wanted badly to play for Ohio State but something about and old knee injury was getting in the way.

All of a Sudden he starts screaming with excitement and starts singing "Sherry" (The 4 Seasons) to me. But it sounded and looked more like his favorite artist of all time.

Eventually my friend made her way back to me and informed me that Pee-Wee was the guy passed out with his roll of quarters. She then made the official introduction between Yellow Cake and I. Not having realized we had
already been talking. Not that Yellow Cake had either. They were both pretty drunk and Yellow Cake was all "It's so nice -hiccup- to meet - hiccup- you. What's your name again?". By now the Coors rep has arrived. And by rep I find out that they meant "Guy who works at the bottling plant". I did not manage to find this out until after I asked the guy about a job and he pulled out a fresh roll of quarters.

Yellow Cake starts laughing so hard he begins to projectile vomit. Right. into. my. cleavage. As I am trying not to scream with chunks sloshing around in my bra, my friend is so grossed out that she begins to vomit. All. over. my. shoes.

They felt pretty bad about it and Yellow Cake went to grab me a fresh (I guess it passed his sniff test) Gold colored Thunderbirds T-shirt, blue matching shorts and show me to the shower while my friend vacated the couch of Pee-Wee so I would have a place a place to crash, being that my driver was not able to drive me home. Thank God I could lock the bathroom door as it was pelted with quarters the whole time I was in the shower. We left the next morning and had not spoken of this incident again until recently, when I was sent these pictures.

It makes me wonder, What ever happened to that guy? I never gave him his loner clothes back. Did he ever grow up to be anything more than Yellow Cake?

BTW, NukeDad you've been Blunked! (new word = Blog Punked)

*This entire post is complete fiction just to have a little fun at Yellow Cake's NukeDad's expense. That's him and his buddies from years gone by in the pictures. Please visit Michael's Daddy, Momo Fali and Suburban Scrawl for the rest of today's harass NukeDad Fest.

**A special thanks goes out to NukeSis for providing the pics of NukeDad's misspent youth!

Toledo Air

After reading this, over at Half Past Kissin' Time I was inspired about what to blog today.

I have always been a fan of the practical joke. Not just the water bucket over the door variety, but the long running, well thought out, that makes you laugh for the duration kind of joke. This one is an absolute classic that I was only witness to but wish I could claim credit for.

In college, some of the campus housing consisted of apartments that housed 8 people. 4 bedrooms, a bathroom, a common living room and very little privacy. One of these apartments housed some friends of mine, who pulled this beauty off. Two of the guys ("Mitch" and "Steve") happened to be complete motor heads. "Lester" (the victim) was anything but a 'car expert' and a little too trusting and naive, especially considering the personalities of the people he was living with.

"Lester" had a tire that was low on air every day for a week. Little did he know that "Steve" was the cause of this. Every night on his way back to the apartment he would stop and let about 1/4 of the air out of "Lesters" driver's front tire. "Lester" went to the local gas station and filled the tire daily only to find it low again in the morning. So he took it to the local tire repair shop. The attendant found no problem, didn't charge for the check and sent "Lester" on his way. The next morning he finds his drivers' rear tire is low on air.

That night "Lester" goes to "Steve" and explains the tire issue and asks for an opinion and advice. With a total straight face, Steve asks if there is a slow leak that could be caused by a puncture. Lester tells Steve how he had the tire checked and now a different tire was loosing air and that he was now refilling his tires daily. "Steve" continues to ponder what the problem could be for "Lesters'" benefit. "Eureka! I Know what the problem is, You have Toledo air in your tires. Did you fill them when you went home to Toledo two weeks ago?". "No", replied
"Lester", "They were fine when I was home." " Hmmm, but were they originally sealed in Toledo?" "Steve" wanted to know. "Well yeah, but what would that have to do with anything?" "Lester" questioned with suspicion and doubt in his voice. So "Steve" proceed to explain that the latitude of Toledo being 5 hours north, had a different air density and thus pressure changes happen. The only solution was to have the tires resealed here at the lower latitude and and made up a convoluted explanation about how in reverse there wouldn't be a problem with pressure changes. "Lester" wasn't quite buying it, but wasn't sure. After all "Steve" knew everything there was to know about cars.

So "Lester" left "Steve" to seek a second opinion, completely unaware that "Mitch" had overheard the entirety of the conversation from the common living room and was trying hard not to convulse with laughter. After having the tire problem explained to him, "Mitch" asked the normal questions and then said "Wait, where were your tires sealed?". He continued to explain the whole latitude/longitude issue to "Lester", trying not to use the exact phrasing that "Steve" had.

That was enough confirmation for "Lester". The next day after class he drove back to the tire shop and insisted that they reseal the tires. The attendant asked "why?" and "Lester" explained how he had "Toledo Air" in the tires and how the longitude and latitude was the culprit of the problem and how his two buddies helped him to figure it out. The attendant burst out laughing and informed "Lester" that he had been had. "Lester was pretty ticked, but the rest of us laughed till we cried.

Where The Green Grass Grows

Okay, so in this family, we (read I), have a twisted sense of humor. Practical jokes are an art form around here. Whoopi cushions are for amateurs. So as the story goes, you will need some background info. Hubby and I are not DIY types. In fact, we are completely incompetent at anything pertaining to home maintenance, both inside and out. However, we try, and with tips and advice from friends and neighbors, our home is still standing. Some of our neighbors are lawn gods. Luckily, they are also friendly and helpful when we have needs (probably to protect the values of their own homes).
So anyway, we had a summer of drought conditions with severe watering restrictions. We also had a service cutting the lawn, so we didn't have to. The grass was brown and dying. The lawn had a total lack of TLC as far as any type of weeding or fertilizing. Hubby was convinced that it was the fault of the lawn mowing service.
The next spring he decided to become a lawn god, because "real men mow their own lawns." He cancelled the service and bought a mower. I, being the loving wife that I am, resisted arguing that the lawn needed more care than just mowing. So while he is at work I confer with the man who has nicest lawn in town (he lives across the street) as to how to care for the lawn. Said neighbor, who I will refer to as "Bill" gave day to day, step by step instructions of what to buy, how to apply, etc.
Next thing you know our lawn is green and plush. Friends, who also happen to be neighbors , are accusing us of spray painting the lawn green (it would be much more our style). However, the same group knows that I am treating the lawn without Hubby's knowledge. Hubby comes home from work and proudly, hands on hips, to surveys the lawn each day. With great pride, he tells everyone who will listen that he is cutting his own grass. They smile (with a chuckle under their breath) and state what a good job he is doing.
In the mean time, I am exhausted. The lawn needed so much TLC that it is wearing me out, so I hire Scott's to finish out the season. The routine continues and Hubby grows prouder of his lawn and hard work by the day. I just keep telling him how awesome his mad lawn skills are. All those in on the joke keep complimenting him during his nightly surveys. This persists for about 3 months.
At this point, I get busted due to my own stupidity. One night he came home from work, started to survey his masterpiece, and spotted the lawn stake left by Scott's that day. I, because of thoughtlessness, or laziness, or whatever didn't notice it and hence, didn't remove it. Stupid! It had all been going so well. I had been laughing to myself all summer. Now the fun was over. He was ticked, but only for a few days, before he started laughing too. The next year he hired Scott's again. And so it goes on.