Random Rumblings...

So rather than giving you the play by play of my day (unless you're feeling as if you need a nap and can't fall asleep), I thought I'd just tell you about some things that I find funny, sweet, or that just piss me off.

--On the houseboat trip, the absolute peak of everyone's laughter came from a lone self-inflating whoopie cushion. Apparently, Scott had gotten this for Rachel as a gift--which I find, in and of itself, hilarious--and they'd brought it with them for entertainment. I have never seen grown men and women laugh so hard at fake farts in my life. If you're feeling blue, get yourself a whoopie cushion, shove it in your pocket, and push it on every time you sit down next to someone.

--The first night on the houseboat trip, I fell into a much-needed deep, amazing sleep. Entering into the best part of the night--REM sleep--I began to dream that I was walking through the woods. (In the dream, I was walking through the woods at the farm, but that's not at all what our woods look like.) Suddenly, I heard the distinct sound of someone peeing. When I rounded the corner to see who, in fact, was peeing in our woods, it was none other than Chester Cheetah. You know, the big orange, cartoon cat from the Cheetos commercial. I'm not sure I've ever had a more badass dream. I told everyone as soon as we all got up, and for the rest of the trip, we said, "It ain't easy peein' cheesy," as many times as possible.

It ain't easy peein' cheesy, baby!

--I am reading the book by Jenny Lawson--The Bloggess--Let's Pretend This Never Happened. It is just as hilarious as her blog. And it makes me think that one day, there may be some girl out there who wants to read the silly sh*t I have to say. In book form, every night, right before she dreams about Chester Cheetah.





--I got some pretty badass bruises on the trip. I can't account for any of them.

It's not loose, it's trapped inside my eyeball.

--My freaking eye hurts again. If you haven't yet heard, my doctors thought I had an eye amoeba about a month ago, and I had to undergo this extremely painful biopsy of the fungus on my cornea to ensure that a tiny bastard wasn't feasting on my vision three times a day. It wasn't an amoeba but it was a severe infection caused by the combination of contacts and rosacea. Going sans contacts for what felt like 17 years and putting antibiotic and anti-rosacea drops in hourly every day for 106 years, I thought I'd kicked it. Today, I have leaked all over my face, had to come home and take my contacts out, and wondered if maybe a shard of glass blew into my eye during the rain storm. I have one thing to say about all of this: DAMMIT.

--Did that last paragraph sound like it was written by Kevin Clark?

--I haven't been on Pinterest for a while lately, because I'm cheating on it with blogger. But I got on there for a little bit last night. Why is it that some of the crap on their makes me think I'm a big, fat, lazy slob? If I wanted to look at pictures of girls' huge boobs and tiny bellies, while feeling demeaned and degraded, I'd watch porn. I don't need it on Pinterest. People want to put pictures of impossibly attainable body types with captions that say things like, "Your brain shrinks with every pound of belly fat you gain," right next to the pictures of the amazing seven layer chocolate ice cream mocha lard cake with sprinkles on top. I'm all about being fit and healthy, but we simply don't need ANOTHER thing to make us feel bad about ourselves. So, stop the insanity, Pinterest.

This is the ONLY way I burn calories. And I'd still probably eat it. In your face, photoshopped pinterest models.

On a better note, these boys are my favorite two boys in the whole world.

 This guy is pretty dang high up there too.

I think that I'm as obsessed with my sweet doggie as most people are with their kids. He makes me smile, makes me shake my head, and makes want to tell the world how sweet and cuddly he is.

MY spot that he sometimes confuses as his own.

See the sheer joy on his face at the theft of my pillow??

And now he's giving me the cold shoulder because I made him move to the bottom of the bed.

And, now, I'm going to go eat Mexican food with the ladies and probably think up 100 more things that I should have written about. Good day, sir.

A Hairy Debate

If you have known me for any significant amount of time, you have likely known me as a brunette, blonde, and all shades in between. You have probably also heard me sing the praises of my salon expert, Leslie (at Essentials--message me for her digits). (I decided that she'll be called a salon expert, because I hate the term hairdresser and calling her my stylist makes me sound like I think I'm famous. Side note: I actually do think I'm famous.)

So I always have this internal debate going on about what color my hair should be. And by internal, I mean that I make everyone listen to me weigh the pros and cons of each color, and then I poll the audience about their color of preference. What I've discovered is that if someone met me or spent a significant amount of time with me while I had brown hair, they prefer brown hair. If they met or hung out with me a lot when I was blonde, they prefer me blonde. Both my parents prefer me to be blonde. That's because I was blonde growing up, I suspect. I go back and forth on my preference. I will look at pictures of myself when I had brown hair and think, "damn, I look good." Then I will see a picture of myself with dark hair, and I'll be all, "what the hell was I thinking?" And the same happens with my blonde pics. So, here, let's go through the evolution of Casi's hair...

It took me about three years to grow even a single hair, so it's good that I'm adventurous.

Big, bad, and blonde as a little lady

College--mostly natural

Highlighted with a badass 'stache

Short, sassy, and boob-a-licious

Dyed to match the moooostache

Shortish and ba-londe. Maybe my fave.

Kinda short, kinda long, kinda straight, kinda curly, kinda blonde, kinda red. Really confusing.

Back in blonde

First attempt at going dark

Actual, official dark hair

Wait, what???

Au naturale

But getting light...

And lighter...

And lighter...

And ka-bam! Blondie McBlonde. (I also love this color.)

 Which brings us to yesterday when I had a hair appointment with my resident expert, Leslie. Leading up to the appointment, I was doing my usual back-and-forth panic-mode/stare at old pictures of me/ask everyone I know what I should do. There was part of me that considered going back to my natural color but keeping some highlights (when I went natural about 18 months ago, I found...gray! And not just one, it was a freaking party of them. And they don't play well with others. My grays are wily!), but I hadn't mentioned this to anyone. Cut to Leslie...

Let me explain why Leslie is so great. When I lived in Lexington, I had the same hair lady for 8 years. She knew my hair and did a good job. (She was known to talk a little too much and get my locks a little too short. I'm going to search for a picture of this, because, frankly, it's hilarious.)

This is the terrible, awful, no good, very bad 'do my lady in Lex did. And this is after about three weeks after it grew out some. OUCH.

Then I moved to Owensboro and began the great hair expert hunt. I went to several different people, paid ridiculous amounts of money, and never seemed to be satisfied. Until I met Leslie. She knew exactly what I meant when I explained what I wanted, she was just as adventurous as me in the hair color department, and she is cute and hilarious and I found in her a lifelong hair expert.

So I showed up yesterday to see her, not having a clue what to tell her to do, and she immediately said, "I have some ideas." Because she's never led me astray, I fully trust her with my head, and gave her free reign to play around. As she was blow-drying my hair, I realized...she had gone VERY VERY close to my natural color with a few blonde highlights left. It's as if this girl can read my mind. She also did this amazing Schwarzkopf treatment that turns my shredded wheat into silken strands. I'm not even kidding; this girl works wonders. Here was the end result.

The new color

From each angle

Up close and personal. So pretty.

So, I'm back to close to natural with a hint of red and blonde. Amazing.

Also, I got to spend some time with Destiny yesterday and our obsession with each other continued. I got her husband's phone number, so that there is never a moment in my life that I can't get in touch with Dee. When we got home from dinner, giddy and ridiculous, Patrick asked what was up with our weird bromance. Coincidently, we dubbed it a LOmance. Get it? What's even more lomantic than that? Destiny's blogging again!!

Amendment: Upon reviewing this blog, I'm realizing one might also consider it, the evolution of Casi's phatness. Wowza.

Home Sweet Boat

Joel and I didn't take a single picture so here is a stranger on the boat.
Hopefully, someone will post pics and then I'll post them for you.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, we're back from the houseboat trip, and I finally have the energy to write about it. Technically I'm also procrastinating unpacking, doing laundry, and cleaning the house. Joel has already left to work at the farm this morning and when he asked what I was doing today, and I shrugged, frankly, I think he judged me. But we had a big long weekend, and I need time to recuperate.

So the trip was amazing from start to finish. I say that, but you have to keep in mind that we had to pull the jet ski to the lake. The only vehicle we have with a trailer hitch happens to be the only vehicle we have without air conditioning. We'd gone over this in our heads for weeks and determined that it was going to be at least $500 to fix the truck's AC OR $500 to put a trailer hitch on my Escape (which we plan to sell if anyone would act the least bit interested in it). So we rationalized that it "wouldn't be that bad."

Our version of AC

And at first it wasn't. I mean, we were hot, but we'd stocked the cooler with cold water and stripped down to what we deemed to still be legal while inside your own motor vehicle. Most of the drive down was just fine, but closer to the end of it, we were starting to get a little grumpy (and, for me, dizzy and disoriented but I was trying to be a trouper). Add to this the fact that we didn't pack the GPS and were relying on our phones for directions (to which I'd simply typed 'Dale Hollow Lake' not realizing it's like as big as country, and that there are tons of marinas on the lake). About an hour into the trip, we lost cell phone service altogether. So not only could we not rely on our maps app, but also, we couldn't call anyone to get the address to the marina. Luckily, Joel is a really good guesser and got us there just fine. But two hot, grumpy, heat exhausted adults trying to figure out directions not knowing an address or anything can be quite comical (or also considered a miracle that someone didn't get punched).

Once we got there, the fun began and didn't stop until we got BACK into our hot ass truck to go home. To spare you a million inside jokes that you won't think are funny and a blog that is 64 pages, I'll highlight the trip by saying there are so many things I did on this trip that I'd never done before. Here goes:

--Been on a houseboat. I mean, I've walked onto one, but never spent four days on one.

--Been on Dale Hollow Lake. Absolutely breathtakingly beautiful.

--Driven a jet ski by myself. I've taken rides while someone else has driven plenty of times, but always been too scared to try it on my own. Joel took me out once and showed me the ropes and then I got to do it by myself. Awesome.

--Kayaked by myself. Again, I've kayaked in pairs but never handled one on my own. When I saw that we had two one-person kayaks, I resigned myself to just not getting on them the whole trip. Joel talked me into it, and I'm ready to go cross-country in a kayak! Not really, but I'm so super comfortable on them on now.

--Drank Fireball. In fact, I'd never heard of it. But it tastes like liquid red hot. It's delicious and makes me feel super fun. (Warning: it burns going in and burns coming out.) And on that note:

--Gone #2 on a houseboat. Yeah, yeah, I know it's too much information but it's also quite the experienced. It can be likened to using a food processor for the first time. We all enjoyed it so much that we tried to do it as often as possible. Some people upwards of 5-7 times a day. That also could have been the gratuitous amount of food and alcohol we were consuming.

--Jumped off the top of the houseboat (SORRY, MOM). This probably was one of the highlights of the trip. The boys were all jumping off the top, and I jokingly said I would. I knew I had a huge fear of heights and could never actually make it happen. I had planned on just getting up there and being silly. So I'm standing on the top of this thing, and the boys are below cheering me on. I decide maybe I'll go ahead and do it, but then I can't get off the top. I keep running to the edge and freezing. So Joel came up top, grabbed my hand, and we jumped together. I think maybe I flailed my feet around like a rag doll, and may or may not have ripped one of my boobs off when I hit the water, but it was exhilarating. I also blew about a gallon of water out of my nose in front of everyone when I came up. (Pretty.) Then I decided to do it again and chickened out again, so Joel grabbed me, and we jumped together again. Had I tried it a third time, I probably could have done it on my own.

Other people jumping off of a houseboat

--Slid off the water slide of a house boat. Again, when I saw this thing, I thought, "no way in hell am I going down that." But after I had plummeted off the top of the boat and not died, I realized the slide couldn't be nearly as bad. That was super fun because it pushed you into the water with a little bounce and speed. The boys were going down backwards and head-first, so I didn't want to steal their thunder and just kept going down on my butt. It was a blast.

--Sang in front of people. If you know me, you know I have a terrible singing voice and that I absolutely refuse to sing in front of people. But if you give me enough alcohol and put me in a setting where there are constant songs being played, it turns out, I'll sing for you. For me, this was so much fun, because although I'm horrible, I do love to sing. For other people, it was probably just horrible. But no one was rushed to the ER with busted ear drums and at least I couldn't see the cringing on people's faces. And once I got started, I demanded Joel play songs until his fingers (almost) bled. Sorry, babe.

--Walked a tight rope. There was a rope that was tied from the tree on the bank to the back of the boat. Granted, this "tight rope" was in water, so it was exponentially easier to walk on than a real tight rope, but we all became obsessed with walking and sitting on it, and I begged the whole time for someone to reenact the scene from Dirty Dancing with me. (Joel finally agreed but said he wanted to do it on land...um, no.)

What I kept imaging whilst on the tight rope

--Taken a lake bath. The first day, Joel taught me the beauty of bathing in nature. (We had our suits on, I can't add "skinny dipped" to this list, unfortunately.) It was so nice to take baths in the lake, so we did both Friday and Saturday. I did on Sunday too, but Joel convinced me to come in and try out the shower on the boat, so we proceeded to shower in the world's smallest stand-up shower.)

--Not shaved my legs for four straight days. This is something I am a nazi about. I have to shave my legs every single day. Even when I'm sick, I'll eek my way to the tub and shave up. But bathing in the lake and the tiniest shower in the world meant that the legs were the sacrifice. I was so preoccupied with how miserable it felt that I shouted out a disclaimer any time anyone got even remotely close to me. However, I was mesmerized by how awful it felt and made Joel feel it every few hours. On the ride home, I was almost delirious thinking about the sweet glory of shaving my legs the minute we walked in the door.


Clearly, this was a trip of firsts, and we had an absolute blast. I met lots of really amazing people that I hope will become good friends. I can't wait to take another houseboat trip and was even trying to pull for one in August. I think maybe everyone else is willing to wait a bit longer (was it my singing?). The good news is that I didn't get sunburnt, I didn't throw up (someone did, but I'll never tell who!), and didn't get motion sickness until we headed back to land the last day. That was just a little bit of a sicky stomach and subsided after I had some delicious catfish at the marina close to ours. The trip was everything I'd hoped it would be and more, and if we could have stayed another four days, I would have agreed in a split second (that is, if I could have figured out a way to shave my legs).

Leaving on a...Sailboat

So I'm going to be on the house boat for a few days and wanted to let you all know I'll be taking good notes when I'm not eating, peeing in the lake, and puking so that I can write some hilarious posts for you when I return. I'll leave you with this. Happy 4th of July, Independence Day, and well...Fifth of July since it's technically after midnight.


Quick recap of my evening:

My baby doggie did NOT like the fireworks.

My (not a) baby (anymore) nephew pretend ate a paper hot dog.

Good night, happy fourth, and I'll tell you all about my trip when I get home. (And someone remind me to post my Grannie Annie's response to my speeding ticket, because it's hilarious!!)

One More Thing...

And just because I'm procrastinating on all the things I have to do today that don't involve shopping (I got all that done before 10am), I have to put this story on here because I find my dearest SO to be hilarious. Even though he drives me kinda nuts sometimes.

So, Joel is outdoorsman, handyman, and all around hard worker. This results in every piece of his clothing being ripped and stained and somehow tainting everything in the laundry with the smell of gasoline. He has more clothes than any fashionable semi-hoarder woman, and I don't help because I'm always trying to buy him "something nice to wear" just in case.

Several months back, we were in Nashville, and it was super hot and he needed shorts (in general, but especially that day). So he dropped me off at the mall, and I rationalized buying him a $60 pair of shorts because I could use my $20 off coupon and purchase several things for myself making the extreme price completely justified.

The very next time he wore said $60 shorts, he unexpectedly had to go to the farm and work. I showed up to the farm later that night only to find these ridiculously expense shorts covered in dirt and various crap that will definitely not wash out. (I think he said some of it was battery grease or something like that that I didn't even know existed.) Minutes after making a huge deal about him getting his brand new shorts all stained up, I notice he has ripped the entire back of the shorts out! So even if I could dry clean the stains out, he can never wear them again because the shorts are suddenly ass-less. Although I b*tched about this for a while and still bring it up randomly, I did get over it.

Not even kidding.

On my trip to Evansville, though, I found an amazing pair of white Express pants for like $25. We have a wedding to go to in a couple of weeks, and I thought those white pants would be perfect for him to wear. When I was showing him all the fruits of my shopping labor, I held the pants up and said slowly and firmly, "These. Are. White. Pants. Do. Not. Under. Any. Circumstances. Wear. Them. To. The. FARM."

Him: Baby, c'mon. Why would I do something like that?

Me: I know I said I wouldn't bring it up again, but remember the pair of shorts I bought you that you RUINED at the farm???

Him: That's totally different. Those were already dirt-colored.

There you have it, folks. That's exactly how his mind works. And I couldn't even get mad about it, because I was laughing too hard. He is hilarious. And a mess.

She's Got a Ticket to Ride

So, so familiar

Confession: I have more speeding tickets than I care to speak of. (I, however, will.) I have more speeding tickets than you. And I have more speeding tickets than I should probably be joking about. I added to my long list of offenses yesterday en route to work.

I have already mentioned that I had a hugely busy day of work yesterday, and add to that the fact that I had a brand new set of clothes to choose from whilst getting ready for work. (This has been a common theme for me lately. Being late because of outfit choices. I am forever searching for something that fits to wear to work. Note to self: stop buying swim suits. You cannot wear those to work.) So I get on the road five minutes late and have to stop and get gas (again, a common theme in my life). I decide I can make up a little bit of time on the road and commence with my usual ignoring of the speed limit. A mere ten minutes on the road, and a sweet little state trouper is informing me that not only was I speeding, but also that I was going 77 in a 55. And, please note, that I have some cases of adult beverage in my back seat for the lake trip. Awesome. He was sweet enough to write me a ticket for 68 in a 55, so as not to have to haul my ass to jail. Thank you, Officer Hawk Eye.

So, here's my history of speeding tickets. I hear about people "getting out" of them all the time, but I simply never acquired that skill. (I'm shocked too. I'm a hot, young thang and can usually talk myself into or out of anything.) The first ticket I ever received was when I was returning to Lexington after my first visit home from college. My roomies in tow, I figured we'd see just how quickly we could make it back. When the officer stopped me to give me a ticket, I remained stoic and never looked him in the eye (I can't explain that), and then the second he drove away, I burst into tears and refuse to speak for the next three hours. And, my theory is, that since I blew my first shot at "getting out" of it, I will never, ever be able to do that. But I was determined to try.

Why, thank you for pointing out how dangerous it is to speed. I had no idea.

A year later, I was headed home from Lexington, when a cop pulled me over for going 81 in a 65 on the Bluegrass Parkway. When he came to the window, I put on my best, "I'm going to explode" face and told him that the only reason I was speeding is because I was about to pee my pants (I am being completely serious, I said that to him). He said he'd make it quick, and I responded, "I'm really sorry, sir, it's about to come out right now!" He instructs me to follow him, turns his lights on, and leads me (in the opposite direction) to the exit I'd just passed and to a gas station. I run in and stand in the bathroom for what seemed like an adequate amount of time (if you know me, you know I have a reservoir bladder and only pee about two times a day). So strolled back out to the parking lot thinking I'd really pulled one over on this guy, only to see him standing next to my car, speeding ticket in hand. Thanks, asshole.

The next time I was pulled over was while on Frederica Street in Owensboro. I had absolutely no good reason to be speeding, but I was going 50 in a 35 in lunch-time traffic. This cop pulled me over to ask why I was doing just that. This is how that went:

Me: Sir, it's an emergency. I was on the phone with my mom, who has back problems, and she told me to come home right now, and then my phone died. I'm scared she has fallen and hurt herself.

Copper: I understand, what's your address, and I'll get an ambulance there immediately.

Me: Oh, you're not gonna wanna do that, sir, I'm lying.

Copper: That's what I thought. I'll be right back with your ticket.

Oh, that's how you do it!!

After that, I realized lying was not always the best policy, so I've learned to politely give the men in uniform my license, note that I'm wearing my seat belt, and say thank you when they--always--give me my ticket. I am becoming quite popular among the police in Kentucky, as I have been pulled over by the same cop three times (in a row, within about two months), there was a stretch of about five years when I went to traffic school once a year, and because I'm primarily responsible for paying their salaries with the fines I remit. Part of me wants to sit down and add up how much I--or Pete Clark, sorry, Daddy--have spent on speeding tickets in the last twelve years, but I'm afraid I'd throw up and vow never to drive again. For now, I'm going to at least try to slow down and lighten my lead foot just a little. That is, until the next time I'm five minutes late to work...

Gifts and Thankfulness Vol. 6

Gifts

Um...read about my shopping trip. Enough said.

Today, I was thankful for:

1--Destiny. She makes me so happy. It is completely impossible to be around her and not be happy.
2--Joel and CD. Nothing makes me giddier than seeing my boys after a long day.
3--RAIN.
4--Being able to email my mom and Grannie Annie. I LOVE it. It makes my days.
5--Last night, as Joel was falling asleep, and I was wide awake for the first of many hours, and we were snuggling, he said, "this is my favorite part of every day."And, for that, I am thankful.