Redneck Activities

I rode a swamp buggy for the first time last weekend. This happened:

That is the chassis and motor of, I believe, a 1985 or so Ford F-150 converted into a swamp buggy. It broke down a lot. Riding it was still fun. For the most part. Our friends have named it the Kooter Intruder. I would say that's a fairly appropriate name.

Admittedly, I was supremely embarassed when Ralph pulled up to our driveway Friday night towing it. If the times when we had to pull our Nissan 300ZX into the garage with the four wheeler didn't make our neighbors think we are rednecks, they definitely think we are now (the Nissan doesn't run and is insanely heavy to push, hence the towing)!

Guys think driving swamp buggies and four wheelers through various mud holes to see if they can make it is fun. Personally, I have a bit of a different definition of fun, but hey, give me a Tervis Tumbler with some vodka and Fresca in it and I'm up for a lot of different things. And there, my friends, is my husband's strategy for how to get me to have a good time while out in the woods!

One can rest assured, however, that I do make four wheeling look good

 

 

Contrary to popular belief, I do actually enjoy four wheeling. It's fun as long as I don't wind up completely covered in mud. It's the spending the night (even if it is in campers) and some of the people that frequent the four wheeling places that make me uncomfortable and that's why I don't generally go. But like I said above, if you give me enough vodka in my New York Yankees Tervis Tumbler, things will generally be okay. I'm very fun to drink with. In case you weren't already aware.

Songs That Take You Back

I come up with blog topics at odd times. I am in the middle of a cleaning spree. When I'm on cleaning sprees, I usually blast Frank Sinatra music (as long as Ralph isn't home; he isn't as much of a fan). And while I was mopping the floor, I was thinking of songs that take you back to a specific moment or they make you think of someone or something.

I have a few songs like that. Flo Rida's 'Low' makes me remember my bachelorette party. The song had just been released, but Stacia had it on a CD and we carried it around to all the clubs at Hard Rock in Hollywood, asking them to play it, yelling 'applebottom jeans, boots with the fur!'

50 Cent's 'In Da Club' makes me remember the trip to Cancun with Katie senior year of college. Debauchery. Complete, amazing, memories for a lifetime, so much fun, debauchery.

Sublime's 'Caress Me Down' brings me back to high school when Jennie and I would drive around Lake Worth Beach in her black Toyota Celica convertible while we scoped out guys.

Many wonder why Jessica and I call each other 'Walrus.' A guy I dated briefly in college once left me a message at approximately 2:30 am singing the Beatles' 'I Am the Walrus.' Jess was there. It stuck.

I can't listen to The Cranberries' 'Zombie' without laughing hysterically. Lisa and I did a horrible rendition of that song one night while playing 'Sing Star.' We laughed so hard we couldn't breathe.

Michael Jackson's 'Bille Jean' now makes me think of Vintage Bentley and her outrageous reenaction of the entire MJ era on a dance floor at Stacia's bachelorette party.

And, of course, there's Journey's 'Don't Stop Believin'....the Lodge....singing at the top of my lungs with Kindra, Courtney, Ralph and the rest of our Lodge crew.

But, going back to Sinatra, whenever I hear 'My Way' I think of my Uncle Raymond. My other name for him was Uncle Bean, or Uncle Beanie. When he was born, he looked like a bean and so his entire life, everyone called him Beanie, the Beanman, etc. That's what my family does. We come up with odd names. He used to call me Britteronski. Ronsk, for short.

My Uncle Raymond passed away in August 1999, two days before my 19th birthday. It was completely out of the blue and unexpected. Even though it's been over 13 years, I still think about him all the time and I miss him very much.

My uncle was my mother's younger brother. He was one of the funnest, most charismatic people I have ever known. Everyone always wanted to be around him. He had a way of drawing people in. He was so confident. I wanted to be just like that.

He used to take me to baseball games when I was a kid and sometimes let me have some of his beer. He's the reason I love dive bars as he used to take me to his favorite one in Lantana. I'd sit with him at the bar and drink Shirley Temples and listen to him make friends with everyone. I just recently let this slip to my mom that he used to take me to The Duke; she wasn't too happy about that. When I was a kid, he told me the pulp in orange juice was flies' wings. To this day, I can't drink orange juice with pulp. We used to talk about how we both loved Guns 'N Roses and we'd debate Axl Rose's voice and if he sounded different when he talked from when he was singing. He's the main reason I'm such a big Yankees fan and why I know so much about them. Mickey Mantle was his favorite player - and mine.

My uncle had this great voice and he was a pretty good singer. Every once in a while, he would sing karaoke at the above-mentioned dive bar, and when he did, it was Sinatra's 'My Way.'

Not only was that his favorite song to sing, but it exemplified him.
I've lived a life that's full
I traveled each and every highway
And more, much more than this, I did it my way

That was him.

Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall and did it my way

And that's what I want to be able to say about my own life. That I stood tall and I did it my way. And if I'm ever lucky enough to have a son, his middle name will be Raymond after my uncle and my grandfather.

Does anyone else have songs that take you back?

How a Pushy Broad Came to Be

How a pushy broad came to be, let's see....well, back in August 1980, my parents welcomed me into the world. Screaming, I'm sure. They couldn't decide on a name and my uncle suggested Britt as he happened to have an obsession with Britt Ekland at the time. Not sure who she is? Consult the Google. Now, she was Swedish. I'm Norwegian. Big difference. But she was pretty hot.

That all being said, I'm not sure I was considered a pushy broad during those early years. Unless you consider throwing the cushions off the couch every morning when I woke up during my toddler years being pushy. There was this period in my life where I didn't believe in having cushions on the couch. To each their own, you know?

But I digress. I believe it was a few weeks ago when I became enlightened to this new name. This new term of endearment, if you will. It was a day back in December actually, now that I think about it, and I was hassling a customer for an answer on a vehicle I had been working on for them. We'll call the contact at said account 'Joe.' Anonymity is important, people. Mind you, they originated this request but were taking forever to make a decision. I'm in sales. It's my job to follow up. Otherwise I don't make money. And I like making money. So I called Joe up and I believe the conversation went along these lines:
Me: Joe! What's the word on the street? Do you need me to secure this truck for you, or what?
Joe: I'm working on it, I'm working on it! Waiting for a final answer from (we'll call him Matt) Matt. It's an expensive vehicle.
Me: Okay, well I'm just trying to help you out by not having to harass you anymore.
Joe: Oh I know you're a pushy broad, I wouldn't expect anything less.
Me: Excuse me?
Joe: You're a pushy broad. I mean that in a good way!
Me: Really? So you're saying I shouldn't be offended you just called me a pushy broad?
Joe: Not at all. It just means you're good at your job. I appreciate pushy broads.
Me: (perplexed silence)

We hung up the phone and I really had to think about that conversation. Now, let me just explain that Joe is from Brooklyn. Half my family is from Brooklyn so I do understand how his mind works. But in the words of Carrie Bradshaw, 'I can't help but wonder' if I had a twig and berries, I would likely just be commended for my persistence and my follow up skills. Instead, I'm a pushy broad.

After much thought, I have decided to embrace being a pushy broad, though. Pushy broads get what they want. Pushy broads get ahead in life. And I don't see anything wrong with that. As long as you do it with a little bit of finesse. Right?

And now you know how this blog got its name. Although I have another blog, that one is a bit more serious. While I've tried to incorporate other blog entries to that one, it just seems to flow better when I keep that one to the topic of 'The Baby Quest.' I'll credit the idea of creating a separate blog to Tracie, who also challenged me to write the first entry before Valentine's Day. Never one to miss deadlines, I decided to get the first entry up well in advance.

If you're reading this, I hope you enjoy it. I hope you leave comments. Because there will be more - hopefully funny - entries. I've got plenty of ideas.