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‘Twas the night before Christmas Eve, Twitter style

  • December 24, 2010

Wow, look at this. Two blog posts in two days. Amount of work done on manuscript, however? None.

And before I forget, I actually guest blogged over at Totally Tay yesterday. Why? Because she’s awesome and her I Believe posts are awesome too. She’s going to beta read my manuscript and I’m hopefully going to meet her in real life when I fly to Arizona in April to visit Stefani and Mindy. She calls me an author on her blog, which is stretching the truth quite a bit, but I love that Taylor believes in me. Click over and check it out.

In preparation for the winter storm all the newscasters were wetting themselves about, Trish decided to spend the night at our house last night. David and I host dad and Debby, George and Stef and their kids, and Trish on Christmas Eve and Trish didn’t want to risk driving through the snow to get here tonight. She’s a total shit driver when the sun is shining and the pavement is dry so deciding not to risk the snow and ice was probably wise.

She showed up about 4:00 yesterday dragging enough crap to make me wonder just how long she actually planned on staying. The offspring tackled her immediately and Chloe got so excited she peed on the dining room floor. This is typical.

Trish played the board game Sorry with the offspring while I amused myself on Twitter. “Kids, does your mom ever move out of that chair or put down that stupid laptop?” Trish asked.

“No, she’s on it, like, all the time,” said the smart-mouthed eleven-year-old.

“Yeah, all the time,” the sassy eight-year-old said, chiming in.

“For your information, we’ve spent the whole day together,” I reminded them. “We made cookies and I took you to Macaroni Grill for lunch. Most kids probably had baloney sandwiches and you two were sucking down Italian sodas like I’m made of money. I haven’t been on my laptop all day.”

And their father was at a bar drinking in the middle of the afternoon with Jack and Tom but nobody said anything about that.

I already tweeted our evening but I’m going to re-post my tweets here too because I’m in a hurry and you’ll get the general idea of how our evening went down.

Tweet #1 My twin sister just insisted I make her one of my famous cosmopolitan martinis. #happyalcoholidays!

Tweet #2 Just told my twin sister not to spill her awesome martini on my beautiful couch.

Tweet #3 My twin sister just spilled her effing martini on my beautiful couch. It’s all of 7:03 CST time and *someone* is drunk.

Tweet #4 My twin sister and I are fraternal. Two different eggs, people.

Tweet #5 Now my twin sister is insisting we watch some bullshit show called Million Dollar Money Drop.

Tweet #6 My sister has a martini in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. Say it with me: Double fister sister.

Tweet #7 Now she’s pulled my offspring over to the dark side with her. They love Million Dollar Money Drop.

Tweet #8 Just told my twin sister: “Spill martini on my *other* couch, and I’m kicking your ass.”

Tweet #9 Twin sister and offspring are now watching Million Dollar Money Drop in the basement. I am all alone upstairs. #yay!

Tweet #10 My twin sister and the offspring are screaming and cheering from the basement like Santa just showed up w/gifts & booze.

Tweet #11 My twin sister just sent my 11 year old upstairs with an empty cocktail shaker. “Aunt Trish wants a refill,” he said.

Tweet #12 “Aunt Trish is fun,” the 11 year old said. “Tell Aunt Trish she’s switching to water after this drink.” #buzzkill

Tweet #13 Now my 8 year old is juicing a lime for my twin sister. I give up. #happyalcoholidays #whereismywine?

Tweet #14 All I can say is I hope Santa is getting a load of the shiz going down in my house right now. #totalanarchy

Tweet #15 Oh sweet baby Jesus. My twin sister’s totally annoying and pretend southern accent has reared its ugly head. #livedinTx

Tweet #16 My twin sister just busted out a furby. 1999 called. They want their hot toy back. #regiftfail #noonewantsit

Tweet #17 My twin sister just informed me she has Elmo doing the Chicken Dance on tap for someone next year. #Ipeedalittle

The sauvignon blanc was starting to impede the punctuation and spelling of my tweets so I signed off. Dave finally came home from the bar after six hours, we put the offspring to bed, and Trish and I called it a night an hour later.

The kitchen looked like a bomb went off when I came downstairs this morning, but what the hell.

My twin sister and I had a good time.

Happy Holidays!

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.

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