Oh hell to the yes!  Check out our new digs!

We will be hosting many new counties in the year to come.  And we send out a big welcome to our new writer, Roxy McHapski.  I think you are going to love getting to know her!  It was a very tough decision – but I think she rocks it!  She’ll be entertaining you on Monday’s.

Click around and if you have any suggestions feel free to post it here and I’ll look into it.  This is as much our loyal readers site as it is ours!

Now I’m off to put my feet up, rest my tired fingers, and drink until things get blurry.

New month!

New writer!

New partners!

Gotta have a new site for all this new stuff! We’ll be launching all sorts of new and exciting things over the weekend. The site may go down periodically as I’m transferring stuff over, but keep checking back. You won’t want to miss a single thing!

By now you should all know that I love wine.  Since I love wine so much, I have joined a few wine clubs from some wineries out in California.  Nothing brings me more joy than when the UPS woman drives up with a surprise box of wine for me.  Sure I have an idea of when they’re coming, but I like to leave exact dates a mystery.

I’m home pretty much all day, every day.  Last Friday, I stepped out for some coffee, and sure enough when I came home the ‘Sorry we missed you’ sign was stuck to my door.  I sighed, pulled it down, but knew I had two more attempts to get it.  Monday rolled around, and I stepped out for lunch with a friend.  As I drove out of the neighborhood, I noticed the UPS truck parked at a house about a half mile from my house.  I figured I had missed my opportunity, and sure enough when I got back the sticky sign was on my door.

They had noted they would come back between 1 and 4 on my last and final attempt.  It was a gorgeous day out, so at 12, I took my dogs out for a long walk.  I figured we would be back before 1.  As we stepped back into the neighborhood, I looked down the same road I had seen her the previous day, and sure enough, there it was, the brown truck.  I stopped, gasped, and looked down towards my house.  I was still a half a mile away, and I had no idea how many stops were in between the house she was at and mine.

So I did what any other wine loving person would do.  I took off running as fast as I could.  I felt like Ferris Bueller when he saw his family driving home.  My dogs were confused by the sudden sprinting but happily obliged.  I almost ran into a neighbor checking his mail and had to abruptly stop.  He looked at me and uttered the smart ass comment ‘Who is exercising who?’  I wanted to make a smart ass comment back.  However, he did have a point since I was the one who was excessively panting, and my dogs seemed fine.  I’m used to running at nice 10 min/mile pace.  I’m not used to sprinting any distance.

So we passed him, and I started running again.  And all the time I ran, I kept looking behind my shoulder to make sure the brown truck wasn’t rapidly approaching me.  Honestly, I’m surprised someone didn’t call the cops, thinking that I was being chased.

I made it home, and as I closed the door behind me I heard the rumbling of the truck and the brakes squealing to a stop.  And as I turned around and opened the door back up, there was the UPS woman walking up my sidewalk with a box of wine in her hand.

I’m enjoying a bottle as I write this.  Sprinting never tasted so good!

For some reason I have caught myself taking a ton of personality tests online. Maybe it’s because my parents never had me “tested” like the smart kids, so it’s always bothered me I have no idea what my IQ is. By the way, the free one online says I’m a total genius. Take that Reach kids! I also seem to need an online test to let me know if I have a personality disorder. I’m pretty sure I’m cool, in fact the personality disorder test told me I was practically abnormally normal.

Anyways, I took some shortened version of the Myers-Brigg test and the outcome was interesting. And I would say somewhat true.

I’m a ISFJ (Introverted/Sensing/Feeling/Judgement) or a better explanation

According to Keirsey, ISFJs, or “Protector Guardians”, are most concerned with taking care of people by keeping them safe and secure. They are modest caretakers who do not demand credit or thanks for their efforts. But while they are essentially compassionate, and in fact exercise more patience in dealing with the disabled than perhaps any other type, their shyness with strangers can lead others to misread them as standoffish. Only among friends and family may this quiet type feel comfortable speaking freely. ISFJs are serious people with a strong work ethic, not inclined to self-indulgence. They believe in being meticulous and thrifty. They work well alone. While they may enjoy taking care of others, they do not enjoy giving orders.

Ummmm, yep. That’s me. Now Hubby may argue about the meticulous part but that’s just because I’m not meticulous about the shit he wants me to be meticulous about. And I don’t know what that shit is about serious. Because I’m not. I would say 80% of my life is lived joking around. And I’m probably the most sarcastic person you will ever meet.

So, dear readers, I want to know. What is your personality?

Here’s the test I took. It took about 2 minutes. (Errr, just took it again and now I am something slightly different. Guess it depends on the day.)

Then go here, scroll down a little and look to the right. You will see a grid with all of the personalities. Click on yours then copy and paste what it says.

Come on, I know you weren’t really working anyways. Plus, I’m looking forward to it.

Um.

Hm.

Well.

Yeah.

So, if someone had told me a long time ago that all I had to do was jack my husband off for 6 minutes every day, and I’d have trimmed up arms, I would so have be doing that.  Did it really take scientists at a “prestigous California school” to come up with this?  No wonder my husband likes California so much. I’m going to start jacking him off with my arms over my head and behind my back and just explain that on Wednesdays, baby, IT’S TRICEP DAY!

My daughter just finished driver’s ed and I have to admit, well, she scares us.  I’m going to preface this with a big We Love Her And All, but she wakes up in a new world about every second.  And that quirkiness is very endearing.  But put that behind the wheel and! Oh!  Look!  A Squirrel!

When my son started driving I was less scared.  Not that he had given us any real reason to be less scared.  Even the insurance cronies warned us of boy driver’s by jacking our insurance rate up by a zillion, but we didn’t fret.  He was a good driver, even by my…mailbox/tree/fence/lightpost/dumpster/you-get-the-picture hitting standards.  He had been behind the wheel on several occasions before so we were a little more relaxed.

Then she started driving and didn’t know how to even brake.  No, seriously, I got fucking whiplash the first time I took her out.  Whip-pow! Lash!  And then a concussion.  She even floored it a couple of times because she “thought” her foot was on the brake.  My husband started leaving his hand on the emergency brake and pulling it up on her when she’d screw up.  But he was the first one brave enough to take her out on Legacy.  When they got home I about shit my pants when he told me.  I mean, how did she handle, you know – other cars on the road and shit?!  You know, other humans in cars?!

She got a B on her driving test.  A Beeeeeeee!  She is my straight A student.  The one that twists her hands with such fury at the thought of not getting into A&M (gasp).  “But Mommy, I don’t have a Plan B!”  She was thrilled with her B on the driving test.  We were hesitant.  I mean, OK, so a C student was President and all, but do we really want to be on the road with B students?  Well, do we?  I’d like to think all the drivers aced the shit out of their driving test.  They are behind the wheel of a death machine afterall!  And while I get that the President had his stupid finger on the red-button-of-hell, or the bat phone, or whatever it is “they” worry about – he wasn’t on the fucking Tollway with me in his death machine. 

Watch your feet people, my daughter who will be attending A&M in 3 years, is now behind the wheel.  And, yes, I meant YOUR FEET.

You guys are amazing!  And I’m talking our loyal chicks, chicks with dicks, dudes, circus freaks – every single one of ya.  I’m only pointing this out because our request for a 4th writer has been answered by a ton of funny, funny shit from all walks of life!  For the first time, we are having a very hard time choosing.  If you’re on the fence and want to try please go ahead and send us something.  We’ll make the final announcement next week, so hold onto your hats people – you’re in for a fun ride with this 4th writer.

Also, in a crazy, insane turn of events my mommy house leased so Sabrina’s Hood just changed back to the house with the solid doors! bigger toilets! and more square footage to…to… fucking clean.  It’s a great thing for the Sabrina Crew, I just don’t want to have to clean this bitch.

And a quick note to that sexy beast that I took a bubble bath with last night – those workouts at the gym, yeah, I totally noticed the work you’ve been doing and it’s damn sexy.  Even when you bent over naked to make the sheets fit back on the bed right, that was even sexy.  Made me want to do naughty naughty naughty naughty things to you.

Have a great weekend!  The Housewives are getting together Saturday night, we’ll see what fast food restaurant we (meaning me) terrorize. :-p

We all know that hubby is up in the north working on finishing up his school, and we are finally starting to see the light. The last step is one to two more years of post doc experience, and he’s done (this is where I wildly throw my hands in the air and scream)!

Over the past few weeks he has been interviewing all over the country.  I’ve been debating if I’ll stay here, move back to Scottsdale, or move to wherever he is. Honestly, it will all depend on the commitment. If it’s one year, I’ll either stay here or move back to Scottsdale. If it’s two years, I will really need to sit back and figure out if I’m moving with him.

It sounds like he’s going to have a chance at a fantastic opportunity. I mean a really fantastic opportunity. However, this fantastic opportunity would mean at least a two year stint in Rochester, MN. For those of you who have never been there (which is probably all of you), take the boring level of let’s say Anna, TX and multiply it by 1,000. That’s Rochester, MN.

I have a ton of friends in Minneapolis, but even that’s over a two hour drive. I couldn’t just go have dinner with them during the week without finding a hotel or spending the night at their homes. Minnesota is known for their lakes, so I thought, eh, we’re not boat people, but we can get a boat while we’re there. Oh, but wait, Rochester resides in one of only four counties in Minnesota that does not have a lake.

The entire of heart of Rochester revolves around IBM and the Mayo Clinic. So it’s doctors and computer geeks. Computer geeks come in all different levels, and it doesn’t get much more boring than an IBM’er (except for my one friend who works there who is very fun, and I love her to death).  Oh, and I think I’ve already mentioned how I detest the two snowfalls that Dallas gets every year.  Well, Rochester happens to get a few more than two.

Now what are some of the good things about this potential move?  Well, I would be closer to my family.  Oh, wait, abort that.  That would be a very bad thing.  My Midwest accent would be back in no time (me talk pretty, like Sarah Palin, someday).   We would only be one hour from the Iowa border, America’s dream vacation spot.  I can be in South Dakota in just a little over three hours.  Oh yeah, there’s The Mall of America.  There’s just nothing like being stuck in a ginormous mall.   Ummmmm, Ummmmmm, yeah, I’m at a loss.

It’s definitely a toss up.  I just think the only worse place that he could be offered a job would be my parent’s basement, but I know I gotta sit back, smile, and be the supportive wife!

Does anyone else have wild dreams? I don’t mean like every now and then. I mean like every night, many times a night. I do. It’s fantastic but totally exhausting.

Last night’s was pretty tame. The one I remember the best went like this…Colin Firth was my realtor and was telling me that I better put a bid on this house that I had just found out was haunted. But I wasn’t sure, so I decided to try and get on that HGTV show where you can spend the night at a house before buying it to make sure the ghosts and I got along. (That’s the short version, I don’t want to confuse you too much.) OH wait!  I think there were pictures of Hawker and Mrs. Hawker all over the house. Yep, don’t even know who you guys are, but you were in my dream.

I even remember dreams from my childhood. Most of them included dinosaurs. Like the one I had back when I was 8. I sold my soul to the devil so that my family would be saved from the T-Rex that was playing some sort of giant “Cups and Ball” with my family as the balls. And then of course he was going to eat them.

Many times my dreams are so real that I get confused in real life. I find myself thinking that I already had a conversation when it just happened in a dream. Or I will call someone to ask about their family just to make sure my dream was incorrect.  3 times I have dreamt about grandparents dying and someone I know within that same week loses their grandparent. I hate those dreams.

I have also been known to change plans because of my dreams. I actually switched some major stuff around for my wedding because of of them.

The only thing I don’t dream about is falling. I’ve never had that, or my teeth falling out. Instead I dream that I can’t move and if I don’t move I will die, so I do anything and everything to move just one body part. Finally when I get it to move I jolt awake. I can never get back to sleep after those. Or the ones where I know I’m dreaming and try to wake up only to wake up inside another dream. It’s like I’m in a dream inside a dream, sometimes 3 or 4 dreams deep. See, exhausting.

Does anyone else dream like this?

Creeper Match.com guy brought up something that caused me to think.  My grandfather was the Mayor of the town he grew up in, in Oklahoma.  In talking to Creeper Guy we discovered this link, then he asked me if I was Choctaw Indian, then asked me if I had a roll number.  (In Oklahoma you get put on the tribe’s roll books and with a number you get certain coolness like stuff.)

I found myself launching off into this major explanation about how my Grandmother had been married 4 times and, further I explained, my REAL Grandfather was not the Mayor, but a deliriously fabulous affair my Grandmother had with a young dude while my Grandfather was away AT WAR in Germany!  My REAL Grandfather passed away in a car accident before my Grandmother even knew about her pregnancy with the-she-bitch my mother.  So, no roll number.  Why did I launch into all that?  Why did I share, albeit just one, skeleton in my closet with the Creeper?  I had a severe case of diahrea of the mouth.

My husband is an only child with very little secrets.  In fact, I can’t think of one.  So when we hit the 10 year-ish mark in our marriage and he started asking why he hadn’t met more of my family, I tried to explain my jacked up family tree to him.  I got a very quick, “Nevermind, I can’t follow all that nonsense.”  So yesterday I was talking to my Aunt and she was talking about how Jane had called her and Jane is just the biggest shit stirrer in the family and so on and so on.  When I got off the phone, Husband asked me what was the latest.  So I start trying to explain who Jane is.  It goes a little something like this:

Honey, Jane is married to Dick.  Dick is my Grandfather’s kid from an affair he had on my Grandmother.  Well.  Wait.  Not my REAL Grandfather, my Indian Grandfather.  So Dick isn’t really related to me at all.  But for 40 years my Mother thought he was her half brother, until she found out that my REAL Grandfather wasn’t the Indian Grandfather, but rather a young dude that died.  Anyway, he married Jane, who happens to be slightly related to…

“Nevermind.”

I open my mouth and…so many skeletons…a whole cemetary falls out!  Damn!