Sisters are doing it for themselves

  • September 2, 2010

Trish and I went out last night and for those of you who might not know, she’s my twin sister but we look nothing alike so no one ever believes us.

See? I told you.

Anyway, when we go out together we know we’re going to have a good time because we like our cocktails and neither of us has any kind of filter. We’re probably also going to get in some kind of fight too because we both act like we’re eleven sometimes.

Trish has been asking me all summer to drive to her ‘hood (it’s about a half hour away from mine) and have sushi at this place down the street from her townhouse.

“Oh Tracey, when I left the shop the other day (the shop is my dad’s Honda motorcycle dealership. We’ve called it “the shop” for as long as I can remember), dad said, “TTYL.”

“Oh my God, when I talked to him on the phone he said it before we hung up!” Now for some reason this is cracking me and Trish up. I told her I was going to teach dad some other acronoyms, starting with WTF and she bet me $20 I wouldn’t do it because dad isn’t the type to say bad words (unlike his daughters).

Because who doesn’t like posts about twins and mud?

  • August 3, 2010

About a month ago, my twin sister Trish called me up all excited because she won tickets to the Big Country Bash and wanted me to go with her. It was an all day thing and she told me we’d have a blast, listening to country music and drinking beer in the sun.

“But I haven’t listened to country music since Garth Brooks was popular,” I told her. “Like, since 1991.”

“Oh that doesn’t matter,” Trish said. “Besides, Trailer Choir is going to be there. You like Trailer Choir, right?”

“No, Trish, I’ve never heard of them, because I haven’t listened to country music since 1991.”

She then proceeded to ask me if I knew forty-two more country songs, by bands that would be at the Big Country Bash. I answered no, no, no, still no, quit asking me, what part of this are you not getting, no, no, that sounds like a stupid song, no, no, wtf, no, no, Jesus, no, seriously that title is dumb, no, still no, I’ll take no for $600 Alex, no, shut up, no, holy hell, never heard of it, etc…..

But, as I think I’ve already mentioned, they were serving beer so on the day of the Big Country Bash, Dave dropped me off at the concert grounds at noon to meet Trish.

I wore the super-cool cowboy hat I bought at Target. Probably the real country fans don’t buy their ten-gallon hats at Target but whatever, mine was cute and cheap.

It had rained in Des Moines the night before the Big Country Bash. A lot. I mean like flash flood watches and stuff. Which I ignore, much like tornado warnings.

Dave warned me it would be muddy but Trish and I didn’t realize how muddy until we got to the entrance of the Big Country Bash, henceforth known as the Big Country Mud Bash.

We had to cross a moat made of mud that encircled the grounds. Seriously. Either you go through the mud, or you aren’t getting in.

Now I’m pretty sure that one of us is gonna land ass-first in the mud moat and I’m really hoping it’s Trish and not me. She’s got a bad leg and her back bothers her so my money’s on her and once we start making our way across the mud moat it’s every twin for herself. I scaled a particularly perilous section and looked over my shoulder at Trish and damn if she’s not holding her own. Have I mentioned we’re also carrying our chairs and beach bags and we’re wearing flip flops?

We made our way closer to the person taking tickets. Not only have I not fallen, My feet aren’t even dirty. Then I step in a squishy puddle which completely covers THREE of my toes in mud.

I was horrified, partly because sometimes I act like a total princess and partly because, hello? mud.covered.three.toes. I haven’t even gotten in the joint and I’m a mess.

I had two bottles of water in my bag. I snuck them in so that I wouldn’t get too hammered dehydrated but I decided to pour one of them all over my foot so it would be clean again. Is genius plan.

Until we get past the ticket taker dude. Then things really got muddy. Trish and I were trying to figure out the whole ID/Wristband/Beer thing and with each step, I struggled to pull my flip-flop clad foot out of the mud. Also, with each step, those flip-flops are spraying the back of my shirt with mud. A helpful man tapped me on my shoulder, pointed at my shoes, and said, “You’re gonna wanna take those off.”

So now I’m carrying my chair, my bag, and my mud-covered shoes. We still haven’t figured out the whole ID/Wristband/Beer thing and I’m blaming Trish and Garth Brooks and the Grand ‘Ole Opry for getting me into this fiasco.

We persevered though, and finally sat down in our chairs with a couple beers.

The guy behind us slept through half of the Big Country Mud Bash.

I threw my shoes away when I got home.

I especially like the juxtaposition of my Real Housewife of Dallas County fake fingernails with muddy hands.

Trish has muddy hands too but her fingernails are real (she would want me to tell you that).

I was doing okay until I had to stand in line to get us something to eat. I have no words to describe this other than ewwwwwwww. Kinda makes those three mud-covered toes not seem so bad.

It was shortly after this picture was taken that I had to visit the port-a-potty for the first time. The floor was so slick with mud I was convinced I would slip, my foot would hit the door while my pants were around my ankles, the door would fly open, and I’d give everyone at the Big Country Mud Bash the ultimate money shot. Didn’t happen though!

Trish is nice to everyone.

It’s going to rain any minute.

The sky cleared, the sun came out, and Trish made me sit in a garbage bag in her car on the way home.

We’re totally going next year.

Psst, Cupid

  • February 13, 2009

Dear dude with the arrows,

I need a favor. My sister Trish had a date last Friday with a guy named Ian. She met him on match.com and discovered he was just as attractive in person as his profile picture promised. He was also really nice and he and Trish had a lot in common.

They went out for dinner and then to a bar. Ian asked Trish if she wanted to do a shot and she said “sure!”

Trish does not do shots.

Trish certainly does not do tequila shots.

Yet somehow Trish had five tequila shots on her first date with Ian.

How she managed not to turn into a big vomit volcano is beyond me.

When they got back to her place, Trish changed into her bathrobe and did a lot of dancing and singing in the kitchen. Ian tucked her into bed, alone, at 3:30 AM. Trish didn’t remember much of it. She texted Ian the next morning to apologize and he filled in the gaps.

He must be quite a gentleman considering Trish slipped herself a tequila roofie.

And yes, I gave Trish a good “talking to” about how dangerous it is to drink a crapload of liquor and then invite a guy she just met back to her house.

Trish hasn’t heard from Ian since, except for a couple texts. She knows she might not have made the best first impression and she’s worried it might have cost her a second date with a great guy. I’m still secretly hoping Ian will ask Trish to be his valentine and that’s why I need your help cupid.

Could you please shoot Ian with a big-ass arrow? I know you’re wicked busy but I’d sure appreciate it if you could help me and Trish out.

Lots of love,

Tracey

P.S. I know you’re not santa but could you also drop off a box of chocolates at my house? A very small box will be fine, as I will mostly be celebrating Valentine’s Day with sauvignon blanc and my extra weight watchers points will only go so far. Please make sure there are no chocolates with pink, white, or maple centers because if I bite into one of those I’m just going to spit it back into the box and Dave gets all bent of out shape when I do that. Thanks in advance!

The Dating Game, the Sequel

  • January 30, 2009

Trish thinks dating all the men she’s met on match.com is like another full time job. She also thinks she’s wasting her time because she hasn’t been on a date with anyone she’s interested in going out with again.

Trish had a few good dates with a guy who showed promise. He called her at work at 11:00 AM one day to say hi and see what she was up to. He was also halfway through a bottle of wine. Trish and I thought that was pretty much a deal-breaker. We like our wine but there’s really no reason to drink a bottle of it by yourself on a weekday morning.

Trish said wine-guy also had really bad grammar which is a pet peeve of both of ours. If you can’t keep your saw/seen and your doesn’t/don’t straight there’s going to be a compatibility problem with us.

Grammar is in my top five requirements for a suitable mate along with good teeth, kindness, must weigh more/be taller than me, and have the ability to buy me designer handbags.

Trish went out with a couple more men that didn’t seem to be a good match, one of whom she agreed to meet at Buffalo Wild Wings.

“You didn’t actually order wings did you?” I asked.
“They were boneless,” Trish said. “And I’m not interested in him anyway.”

Trish sent me an e-mail yesterday and attached her recent new matches. I think Trish needs to tighten her criteria because I don’t know how a guy who goes by the handle lik2licursplspot got through. Trish, run! Run far away! And is no one monitoring shit like this over at Match.com headquarters? This is a suitable user name? Really? Seriously?

Here’s what he wrote about himself and what he’s looking for: “I am very honest, respectful, straightup, open minded care about a persons feelings good or bad, I am looking for a female who is open minded, honest, not a drama qween, and dosent play head games. She should like to party a little and enjoy sexual activity.” (I didn’t edit, correct any of the words he spelled wrong, or fix his horrible punctuation).

He also says he’s a daily smoker that likes meat and potatoes and never exercises. He likes being by the water, walking in the woods, and reading informational material (probably he means porn). His picture scared the crap out of me. Think of an ugly Ted Bundy with a beard and crazy eyes.

Trish, this is what happens when a nice girl like you has erotica listed as a turn on for your ideal match (surprise! He does too). I told you to take it off your profile and you didn’t listen and now you’re being pursued by a sexual deviant with an agenda. I did notice, Trish, that you replaced your daily smoking status with trying to quit. Good for you.

I know you’re not really liking Match.com and the whole dating thing right now and I don’t blame you. Dating is hard. I had to endure my share of bad dates before I managed to snare Dave.

Remember Todd who said he was a fireman and I was so jazzed because he said he drove a cool Mazda? And then I found out that Todd wasn’t even his real name and he drove a big piece of shit boat car and lived in a shack with his grandma and had a best friend that went everywhere with him that looked like Buckwheat?

I dated a whole bunch of dorks before I hooked up with Dave so try not to get discouraged Trish. Sometimes you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince. But nobody said anything about licking.

The Dating Game

  • January 9, 2009

Trish has recently joined Match.com and she’s finding the world of online dating very entertaining. She sends me all kinds of e-mails with responses from various men who have checked out her profile and sent her a message. I’m not sure how I got sucked into the clusterfuck that is her dating pool but since I have, I think I’m entitled to give her some advice whether she wants it or not.

From what I’ve been able to piece together from her dating correspondence, Trish already shattered one man’s heart by telling him that she is “only looking for metro sexual yuppies that ride Hondas and don’t need Viagra. And since only young men have the sex drive, muscles, and stamina she is looking for, old guys shouldn’t even bother. Even when SHE’S old she’s not going to date them. She also prefers clean-shaven men, not Kenny Rogers look alikes with glasses that tint when they walk outdoors.”

Ouch! Frankly I can’t imagine what prompted this exchange and I’m dying to know what Kenny Rogers said to Trish to make her respond so harshly. I don’t know how Kenny even made it through the matching process since they’re obviously NOT compatible. Since I know her password I decided to go to her Match.com profile and do a little investigating.

Trish has listed herself as a social drinker (maybe one or two drinks). Really Trish? What about that time you drank 5 glasses of Merlot at the bowling alley? Even though you soaked your shirt in OxyClean I can still see where you threw up on it. What about last Saturday when you and Kristi left a path of alcohol fueled destruction in my house? I’m sure I can come up with several more examples of your recent intoxication if I had more time.

Try to limit yourself to only 2 cocktails when you are on a date. Remember, no man wants to see your eyes unable to focus in the same direction while you slur and cackle your way through dinner (wait until you’re married and then it’s no biggie).

Trish listed in-line skating as one of her interests. Wait, you mean the in- line skates you asked me to sell in my last garage sale along with your crappy old stereo? What if you meet a nice man on Match.com and he wants to go in-line skating? Will you be driving to Scheels to buy a new pair?

She is listed as a daily smoker. Trish? Go to Walgreen’s on your way home from work and buy one of those nicotine patches. Slap it on, ditch the smokes, and febreze the hell out of everything. Voila! There will be a whole new batch of eligible men coming your way. (And to all my girlfriends who are still smoking? Please do this as well. I love you all and if anything happens to you I will have to drink wine all by myself).

There was a section where Trish could list her ideal man’s turn ons. Trish, please remove erotica. Men are visual creatures and can be aroused by an errant bra strap. All men love erotica so referring to it at all is completely redundant. It might also be why you’re getting winks and e-mails from every man on Match.com in the tri state area.

Your townhouse is not a sex portal and you don’t live in a red light district so remove everything from your profile that might inadvertently give men the idea that you are easy. No man should even be seeing the inside of your kitchen until after the third date or your bedroom until the fourth. I think you’ll attract a better caliber of men if you go for more goddess and less bad girl.

I know what you’re thinking and I’m not saying these men aren’t going to buy the cow if you give them the milk immediately. I’m proof that you can give some milk to one of them a tad early and still be with him 16 years later. But this is not about me Trish. It’s about you.

At least you’ve gone legit and joined Match.com. I don’t know where you were finding those other x-rated suitors who texted you at all hours of the day and night. And P.S.? If you don’t change your text tone to something other than Daughtry’s It’s Not Over, I am going to drop your cell phone into a dirty toilet. It even annoys the offspring when you’re over here. Shit can that song and replace it with a nice little bell or chirp.

And according to an article on the MSN home page, if you want to attract a man you should wear red, not black. Dave was telling me just the other day that too many of my clothes are black and I should wear another color. Thank you Mr. Blackwell but I don’t usually take fashion advice from a man who owns a gray wife beater with the Tasmanian devil on the front. (But maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea Trish, to buy a red sweater or something. You never know).

Anyway, I know you’re having a lot of fun right now but in time, you may actually find someone on Match.com that you really like. And I want him to know he is lucky to have found you too. There’s a hero out there for you Trish. Please hold out for him.

Trish is leavin’ on a jet plane

  • December 5, 2008

My sister is flying to Austin today to stay with Stacy over the weekend before continuing on to Phoenix for a work training session. I’m a little nervous about her flying, not because I think the plane will crash but because Trish has had some ISSUES with flying in general and the TSA folks in particular.

First of all, she thinks none of the rules of airline travel apply to her and will try to sneak all kinds of shit past security. She just texted me that “flying sux – airport security is not my friend.” I immediately texted back to inquire if she’d been arrested. She replied that she had not been arrested but that her liquids weren’t in baggies and both laptops were now separated. The airport personnel hi-jacked her water bottle but not to worry, she’d just buy more once she got through security.

I should be glad she made it to the airport at all because she misses more flights than anyone I know. She managed to miss her flight home for Christmas two years in a row and would spend the whole day trying to finagle her way onto the next one so she could make it to DSM by midnight. I assure you my dad will be calling my house around noon today to ask, “Have you heard from your sister? Do you know if she made it to Dallas and Austin okay?” She makes my dad really nervous when she flies.

You know how NORAD tracks Santa every year and the kids can pull up the web site to see where Santa is? I wish NORAD would loan me some GPS to stick on the back of Trish’s head so I could monitor her whereabouts or better yet a web-cam I could mount on her shoulder so I wouldn’t have to miss any of her interactions with both airline employees and fellow passengers. I guarantee you it will be entertaining.

(Trish just texted me to say the TSA Nazis missed a travel sized hair spray. Then she referred to them as “minimum wage schmucks that think they’re so cool.”)

Trish flew home for dad’s birthday many years ago. When it was time for her to fly back to Austin, I dropped her off at the airport and drove back home. I hadn’t been there very long when the phone rang. I checked the caller I.D. and noticed that the call was coming from the Polk County Jail. Turns out if you argue with security and keep insisting that it’s only your under wire bra that is setting off the metal detector and then you get really lippy about it the TSA Nazis will throw your ass in the clink for a few hours until your sister and brother in law come down and bail you out.

I don’t like airline travel at all. I refer to all aircraft as “smelly germ capsules.” I am thisclose to donning a mask a la Michael Jackson the next time I have to fly somewhere. I cannot handle having to breathe the exhalations of all the other passengers, especially the guy in the back row who has passed out with his mouth open and is drooling all over himself. And there’s no fucking way I would ever use one of those airplane pillows because I KNOW they are crawling with cooties. Gak!

Even though I don’t enjoy flying I don’t find the rules of airline travel all that hard to live by. I’m not sure why Trish insists on making it so difficult. I do know that I won’t totally relax until her plane touches down in Austin and then she’s Stacy’s responsibility. I’m sure she’ll have some stories to share. I’ll be sure to pass them on.

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