Chronicles of Boyfriendia-Numero Tres

ah... Wednesday. Wednesday's can never be bad days. Prepare yourself for the enthralling muses of a woman who is trying to quit Dr. Pepper. Not a good thing for the psyche - but an excellent thing for the hips. That was too much information for the free public...

Nathan
If you haven't noticed the "take over the world" pattern with my boyfriends - you should. Next in line is Nathan. His dad was undercover DEA. So, surely--- I thought--- this was my ticket to world domination. Not so much. But, he did let me wear his really cool Miami Dolphins jacket one day at school when it was cold out. We were in Ms. Christian's 4th grade class. The only significant thing about Nathan actually occurred not to long ago. God has a hysterical sense of humor and is great st putting me in my place. I had developed this idea over the past few years that I was *gasp* better than my public school peers. I had become a bit haughty, actually. I'm embarrassed to write this, as this is really supposed to be a funny post. Nonetheless-- I'll continue with my soul-baring.

So... I had this whole "I-graduated-from-a-prestigious-university-at-a-young-age-and-I've-lived-a-purer-than-you-lifestyle" mentality when it came to folks I had attended school with. Mostly because they had become barefoot and pregnant or in Nathan's case-- worked at Harley's Cut Rate.

I go into Harley's several months back to pick up *cooking sherry* and lo-- there stands Nathan. I recognize him immediately. I usually recognize people way before they ever recognize me, so I was going to try and play it off like I was no one in particular. :sigh: It doesn't work. He knows it me-- and inquires as to why I'm in his liquor store.
"Well, to buy liquor, of course!" I reply.

I'm thinking to myself, "Great! Of all places to run into someone... a liquor store. Great! JUST GREAT! What's that going to say about me... argh!!" Anyway- this post is going south really quickly, so I'll end it straitway.

The moral of this lesson kids is this: Never, ever think to highly of one's self. It's a recipe for disaster and embarrassment. Not necessarily in that order either.

Chronicles of Boyfriendia-Numero Dos

feeling uninspired...

I've been giving the Chronicles serious thought. Who is worthy of the chronicles? Not too many to my displeasure. So, here is the much anticipated Numero Dos.

Philip
Philip was a great guy. He met the "Surfer Guy" boyfriend requirement that every girl has. (Yes.. there is a list of guy types out there. Before a girl goes off and gets hitched she has to date 5 out of the types!) Well... I say "Surfer Guy". As close to surfer type as you can get in podunk East Texas. Philip was the heir to an asphalt fortune and he was born the day after me. Our moms shared hospital rooms - so naturally one would think that our love was meant to be. Philip had this great smile... ah, just thinking about it still makes me a wee bit weak in the knees. Oh, wait-- that's just my caffeine kicking in. Nevermind.

Philip and I had a tumultuous relationship. You see... we both were elected officials at Montgomery Elementary (3rd grade) and at Northside Intermediate (5th grade). In the third grade - I ran for President-- and guess what??? So did The Asphalt King. He won, but I got the second highest number of votes, so I was the Vice President. We were destined to take over the world - one elementary school at a time.

Around Christmastime of our third grade year, Philip gave me a necklace. Then he broke up with me. I think for Raven Taliferro, who was WAY too tomboy'ish for me... but who cares?

THEN, (oh yes it gets better) Philip and I meet up again at the fifth grade presidential elections. We're both running for president... except this time it's all or nothing. If I lose... I lose. No consolotory Vice President. Just regular old Class Representative. All my friends are saying to just run for VP, cause there's no way I'll lose that race. Philip has pulled out all the stops with his fancy buttons that say "Vote for PHILIP". I've just got homemade posters plastered everywhere. Come on! It's the 5th grade for crying out loud!! Personally, I think there were illegal campaign contributions - but it's all water under the bridge now.

Anyway (sorry for the deviation), election day comes and we're required to give speeches. I put on my homemade dress (even though I wasn't homeschooled yet... the genes were already in place) and I must say.. this dress was AWESOME. I was red, yellow and denim striped and had the cute little sailor buttons on it. My speech BLEW Philip's out of the water... but he was more popular than me with the boys and the girls... so he WON. Yep. I lost to an asphalt magnate. Whaddya think of that? Anyway-- he went to A&M. So I should've known. Those state school boys will get 'ya everytime.

the series to end all series...

Shane is blogging about his sports moments and so is Mike. I think Vanessa is starting something about all her accomplishments. I've thought this through, and when you think of the main difference between boys and girls it's this-- the boys were playing sports and they girls were writing love notes. (except for me and I was playing golf... but that's another story)

So I've decided to chronicle my boyfriends. Dumb, you say? Yes. Hilarious- definitely.

Kyle
So we'll start with Kyle. You know everyone has a first - and he was mine. Kyle met all the basic requirements I had established: tall, dark and handsome. Kyle and I met in Ms. Trimble's 1st grade class. We both wanted to be astronauts and our favorite song in Music class was "My Little Dog Germs". We were both student council representatives for our class. We sat with our backs to each other in class, (I sat across from Escar Luna. One time, he threw up on his desk in class, right after we had returned from lunch. He had consumed his weight in chili dogs. Ick.) but we knew that when Recess came we could meet at the tiki hut on the playground and make plans to take over Montgomery Elementary. Our plan was to revolt against the third grade student council president, get married (I'd be Mrs. Kyle Brewer!!) and take over the school. Then we'd become astronauts and honeymoon on the moon.

You can probably guess what happened since my last name is still Rountree. His parents got divorced, he moved to Tyler... and the rest is history. I played in a golf tournament a couple of years ago with him. He wasn't taller than me anymore. And he didn't want to be an astronaut anymore either-- I asked.

*shrug*...I'm not a CSE

(a CSE is LETU lingo for a computer science engineer).

So I'm super frustrated this morning. I am trying to link several blogs to my site and it's not happening. When I changed the look of my blog several months ago I lost all that coding. *sigh*
This brings me to another problem. I just used the word "coding". How weird is that? I have a business degree. It's just weird to have knowledge of coding and HTML and stuff. Why do I know this? I went to school with Nerds. Real live ones. Just like you get out of the box!

And really the whole reason I was trying to link blogs was because of Jasien's blog. I wanted to link it before I forgot and while I was at it I figured I could add Brad, Corrie, Laura, Shane, Dre, Drew... and the list goes on.

On another blogworthy note: we almost burned the house down again. We've only owned it since March. And this will be Close Call #2. Read about the first one in my archives. So here's the scoop. Dre has been wanting me to teach her how to cook since she moved in. No big deal, right? Not when we're entertaining guests! And boys to boot! In a perfect world, we would have had a practice run-- but I'm rambling now, so back to the Story of the Flaming Tortillas.

Dre is keeping the food warm in the oven. All is going well-- I'm terribly nervous, but that's my nature. I ask Dre to make sure the oven is on 'warm' so that the food just does just that-- stays warm. We later discover that the "Broil" setting isn't the best way to do that. So, Laura pops through the kitchen and "smells something burning". My back was to the over- so I turn around to find flames leaping from the oven. Dre is paralyzed. ::cue superhero music::

So... being the Cooking Goddess/Rescuer that I am... I open the oven. MORE FLAMES. This is not good. I am having flashbacks of laying carpet and tile. Painting until I can only hold my arms above my head. (This isnt' good on a Sunday morning at a Baptist church) All that time spent helping Vanessa remodel that house... down the drain.

Dre is now screaming, "Do something, Beth! do something!" So, I grab the ever handy ladle (the one that helped me rescue Vanessa from a snake several weeks ago) and pull the plate from the oven. MORE FLAMES. I'm now realizing that oxygen=more fire. I guess I missed that lecture in science class. Laura is now yelling too. I'm assuming that they think their yelling is helping me. It's not... it's making me laugh. So, I grab a pot holder and grab the plate and take it into the front yard. When I come back into the house-- we realize that the boys will be here SOON. Not good. 'Cause if we want to make ourselves look like wife material (and our mothers have declared us all four Old Maids) we've got to eliminate the smoke smell. The smell good candle lighting ensues. The sashes are thrown open! (I've always wanted to say that.) And... the smell eliminated. Or at least the guys didn't make fun of us for it, in fact, they were super greatful.

All in all-- Dre's lesson went well.

...the wanderer...

So, I'm kickin' it at the parents house for a couple of days. Always a good thing. I rekindled the flame with Rhett, my brother's chocolate lab. That dog has more energy...

I was hanging out with my mom today and she started making fun of me for being an introverted extrovert. We started laughing because I get cranky when I haven't had enough "alone time". It's really hilarious. I come off as this super-social person, but in reality I'm really not.

On another note... this week has been tough for the girls on Redmon. We suffered out first loss together. We are so blessed to have each other to lean on during this difficult time. We lost a friend that has been with us since The Very Beginning. This friend was there late at night. She was one of those old souls who would listen as long as you talked and wouldn't mind if you balled up your fist and hit her when you were frustrated with life. She was a Gringo just like me, Laura and Dre. It took her awhile to get used to Vanessa's spanish accent and it's probably a good thing that our Gringo friend only understood english - cause then she wasn't able to understand the hateful things Vanessa would yell at her in espanol.

Our Gringo went on to Dryer Heaven this week. She had been ailing for the past month and we had several close calls. We thought we had lost her for good back in July-- but she made a comeback. She was strong for us. An extra heavy load of jeans did her in this week. Poor thing-- I think she was probably a smoker in her younger years. So... if you could be patient with the Redmon girls this week, we'd appreciate it. We're having to air dry all our clothes and whether we'll admit it or not... we're all Harriet Margarets!

1818 Redmon-- the Ghetto version

:cue music:
Presenting... the LADIES OF 1818 REDMON

She's responsible for making sweet tea an illegal beverage in the Southern States, her cooking skills are known throughout the land...
presenting HOMECAKE!
Your gangsta name: Homecake
How you get shot: Ridin' yo' low-rider (bike) to work.
Your weapon: Rusty switchblade you stole from a whitey.
Your bling: Fake silver chain.
Your ride: You can't afford no ride, wanksta.


Her weapon of choice is a spool of floss and she's known to have a drill handy too. Don't cross her if you haven't recently brushed...
presenting Homie G Boo!
Your gangsta name: Homie G Boo
How you get shot: Stealing some nigga's cornbread.
Your weapon: Curling iron you stole from yo' sister.
Your bling: Platinum fronts.
Your ride: BMW. (Black man walkin'.)


Clearly, this woman of integrity takes the cake in percentage points. She can make a mean empanada and her spanish is impeccable... even if I don't speak a lick.
Presenting Gangsta Slice!
Your gangsta name: Gangsta Slice
How you get shot: Stealing some nigga's cornbread.
Your weapon: Curling iron you stole from yo' sister.
Your bling: Platinum rims.
Your ride: You can't afford no ride, wanksta.


You put a football in any endzone this side of the Mississippi and she'll catch it. She's also known for her slammin' v-ball stats. Pretty much... she's a white Venus Williams with a touch of Mia Hamm, Lisa Leslie and Sheryl Swoopes thrown in for spice.
Presenting Lil' Johnson!
Your gangsta name: Lil' Johnson
How you get shot: Yo' homie caught you playin' Furcadia.
Your weapon: Beer bottle you stole from a trashcan.
Your bling: Fake silver chain.
Your ride: BMW. (Black man walkin'.)

The Invisible Man

well, I apologize for my long absence. I've been in the field working on a reconnaissance project I'll tell you about later.

To update you: humm.... busy, busy, busy! We (me, Vanessa, Laura & Dre) hosted a BAZILLION people over at house on Sunday night. Actually- official numbers are more like 25'ish. Somehow we had this "International Dinner Night" theme going. We cooked Thai soup... and various other items that were palatable to one's cultured taste buds.

The early bird boys washed our cars!! How sweet of them! Then- the football game to end all football games took place. The artificial turf and goal posts we ordered for the front yard haven't arrived so we went over to Maid Rite Stadium. Now... I must tell you - there are several versions of this story floating around (read Stevo & Shane ID) but you must know that THE TRUTH IS ON THIS BLOG!

Here's what really happened. I'll start at the beginning. We sided up teams based on nothing at all: sooo... Dre & I were on a team with Stacy, Clinton and Brad/Joey (they subbed for each other). Shane ID, Vanessa, Laura, Stevo and TC were on the other team. Things were progressing along nicely. Our plan was to wear 'em down, hold out to the very end and then blitz them with all we had. It was working... until they got so tired that they QUIT. That's right... in the middle of a play they walked off the field. I can hardly call it sportsman-like. Here's what got them in the gut: they threw a Hail Mary pass as a futile attempt to scare us into quitting (but we're not quitters...) and WE INTERCEPTED IT! God is good! So, we told them that if we were to score on the next play we'd call it even. (The score was 4-2) They half heartedly agreed and we started the play. But... when they saw Dre running the touchdown in, THEY WALKED--actually they RAN off the field. Her lightening quick legs and fastidious foot action scared them sooo bad they could only think to run in the opposite direction lest they get in between her and the end zone and be trampled!

So, a continuation will continue at Made Rite Stadium next Sunday 5PM CST. Tickets can be purchased through this site.

As of football wasn't enough vigorous activity for the evening- the guys felt like we needed to hold our own Olympics via the 1986 Nintendo. Yes... I have a working (albeit persnickety) old school Nintendo. Got the track pad, gun and everything. Get's me lots of points with the menfolk. They date me 'cause of all the video games I have. We had soooo much fun. Innocent fun! (See Mom & Dad...)

..dadgum foreigners...

Ok, so I'm on the phone with Expedia (that's who we book our airline flights through) and this lady doesn't speak very good English and she's trying to tell me what I can and can't do with my credit card. I don't think so. Then, she's trying to tell that I'm over my limit. Well... I beg to differ. The balance is paid in full every month and my credit limit is WAY MORE than I'll ever need. Ok... so I'm not opposed to foreign people. They're great. They make minimum wage worth it... (you really don't want me to go there...)

So, she's basically trying to booko the flight with me over the phone doing the EXACT same thing. CRAZY! All of this... written while I've been talking to her in LOUD, SLOW english.

...you never know...

Man...the only reason I'm posting is because of the persistence of others. I never quite realized how quickly the world shuts down when I posting. I'm kinda tired... and mystified... so I think I'll go. I promise for exciting stories about killing a snake with a ladle and much, much more.