Friday, August 31, 2012

A Fish Out of Water

I found this gem on some website, which--surprise--has a Confederate flag and some Wrangler logo as it's background.  Talk about brand development.

Top 10 Reasons to Know You're a Redneck

1. Your dog rides in your truck more than your husband.
2. You wear specific hats to farm sales, livestock auctions, customer appreciation
suppers, and vacations.
3. You have ever had to wash off in the backyard with a garden hose before your
grandma would let you in the house.
4. You've never thrown away a 5-gallon bucket.
5. You can remember the fertilizer rate, seed population, herbicide rate and yields
on a farm you rented 10 years ago, but cannot recall your wife's birthday.
6. You have used a velvet leaf plant as toilet paper.
7. You have driven off the road while examining your neighbors crops.
8. You have borrowed gravel from the county road to fill potholes in your driveway.
9. You have buried a dog and cried like a baby.
10. You've used the same knife to make bull calves steers and peel apples.  

Needless to say, I have no idea what any of that means except item #9, which is one of my biggest fears.  And that's legit.  

There's a point to all this.  As a suburban girl, I must admit to you all (not y'all) that I harbor a redneck fetish.  Nope, it's not Brad playing dress up in hunter's camo g-strings and fluorescent orange bras.  Pink's his favorite color.  He loves anything bedazzled, too.  I don't love fishing or hunting either.  It messes with my hippy karma.  My redneck love is demolition derbies.

Despite the fun I have at derbies, though, I still feel like a fish out of water.  I even wear things like flannel and still can't manage to fit in.  Maybe that's a good thing?  I don't know.  I guess it all depends on who you ask.  I'll see what invisible Obama in an empty chair thinks about it later. 

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Happy (Belated) National Root Beer Float Day!

I returned home from the Appalachian Brewing Company with a six-pack of root beer.  Sadly, it only lasted a few days.  Damn the frothy perfection of soda and ice cream better known as the root beer float. Damn it to hell.

As I am on a low-calorie diet (1600/day), I had to figure out a way to enjoy this sinful dessert, which is typically 350+ calories, using the least amount of calories possible.  I got it down to 175. Hip.  Hip.  Hooray!

Aim's Reasonable and Refreshing Root Beer Float

-1 diet root beer (15 calories)
-1 cup of Breyer's no-sugar added vanilla (160 calories)

1. Scoop ice cream into a big enough cup.
2. Slowly pour in root beer.
3. Enjoy!

Happy (belated) National Root Beer Float Day (8/6)!  But better yet...Happy (belated) Birthday, John Karl Lohmann.  Yes, brothers get shout outs.

Appalachian Brewing Company

You don't have to convince me to go to a restaurant called Appalachian Brewing Company, especially when it has items on the menu like the Water Gap Wheat Ale, the Thru-Hiker's Chicken Sandwich, and the Switchback Burger.  How could a weekend warrior--like myself--possibly resist? 

The Water Gap Wheat Ale was the recommended beer for my chosen entree: no-filler crab cakes, creamy mashed potatoes, and a flavorful vegetable medley.  I also had one tequila lime wing.  The other eleven belonged to my father, who managed to scarf down the Firejumper Burger, as well.

Our evening at ABC was an excellent evening out.  So excellent, in fact, that I decided to write a review about it on Trip Advisor.  So excellent, even, that my dad and I stopped there for dinner on the way to Philly and on the way home--sitting outside on the patio during both stops. 

This was our view:

On the return trip to Appalachian Brewing Company, I was again a happy camper.  Hah, get it?  I got a diet root beer sweetened with Stevia and honey.  And for my meal, I ate (err devoured) spinach, artichoke, and crab dip served with celery sticks, carrot sticks, and pita chips for dipping.  I didn't need anything for dipping, though, I probably would have eaten the dip with a spoon.  Scratch that, my hands.

Needless to say, I'm a big fan of the Appalachian Brewing Company and the Pennsylvania franchise's namesake.  

Sunday, August 5, 2012

The Hike to Nowhere

Brad, Poops, and me hiked today.  Not to anywhere in particular, we just hiked because today, above all else, was a comedy of errors:

1. We went south on the Appalachian Trail instead of north, hiking approximately 0.4 miles away from where we were supposed to start our journey.  Men (cough, Brad) and their (cough, his) innate sense of direction...what a crock full of...


 2. Poop.  And speaking of poop, I pooed in the woods this afternoon, which is essentially a rite of passage for all hikers.  You see, I've avoided pooing in the woods until now because I was afraid of snakes.  I'm still afraid of snakes, but I had to get over that fear or risk pooping my pants, so I crunched my way through layers of leaves to a tree far off the trail to pop a squat on top of a 6-8" hole.  It was kind of awkward.  The rock that my hand was resting on was a little pointy.  And despite Brad's reassurances, I was still scared a snake would bite me in the butt.

My special spot.  If you look really hard, you can see my poop tree.

3. It's a good thing I pooped because the rattlesnake that we saw a mile or so down the trail would have legit scared the shit out of me.  All of a sudden, we're walking along, enjoying the scenery when I see Brad yank the Poops (haha, there it is again) back towards me.  I calmly said to Brad, "Babe, what's the problem?" I figured it was another bear, but boy was I wrong.  Then, I saw the rattle.  Then, I heard the rattle.  Then, Brad threw rocks in the snake's general vicinity to get it to move out of the way.  Mr. Snake didn't want to move, though.  So, we ended up marching our happy (and overly cautious) asses in the opposite direction, back to the trailhead.  Back towards society and into the storm.

Found this pic on Google.  This is what we saw.  I nudged Brad forward to get a pic, but Mr. Snake wasn't having that.  Mr. Snake wasn't ready for his close up. 

4.  As a matter of fact, we were on a ridge line near a telephone pole--yes, a telephone pole--when a severe thunderstorm hit the park.  I documented the experience for you all via video.  But the videos won't work.  Seems kind of fitting, doesn't it?  I'll get my tech guy on it tomorrow.  Speaking of my tech guy, he and I only got a little wet during the storm...

I shall end this post with a picture of Poops trying to hide from the rain, as you probably assumed, his efforts were futile.  But his face was priceless and slightly pathetic. What a special guy.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Happy Belated Birthday, Harry!

Happy Belated Birthday, Harry Potter.  Better late than never, right?

This may come as a shock to some, but I didn't actually read the first book in the series.  *GASP* I listened to it every afternoon while sitting indian-style on the floor of a fifth grade classroom in Hope Mills, NC.  Even though I hated my teacher (because she called me fat), I will forever be grateful to her for introducing me to the series, a series which has deprived me of sleep for many, many years after...all night reading sessions, midnight book releases, etc.

Item #16 on the Bucket List = The Harry Potter Project.  I am to re-read all of the books, re-watch all of the movies, and then cap off the experience with a trip to the Harry Potter theme park at Universal Studios in Orlando, FL.  Yes, I am 23 years old.  And no, that doesn't bother me. 

On my recent trip to South Carolina, I started from the beginning--Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, page 1.  This muggle (me) was so engrossed that she may have forgot about high tide.  Think iPhone, think car keys, think pictures that had not yet been downloaded onto my computer... 

So, anyways, I'm on a beach in Sullivan's Island, SC with the waves crashing at my feet in the middle of shopping in Diagon Alley with Hagrid and Harry, you know, for school supplies, when all of a sudden

I hear Rachel, yell, "Hey, Aim!  Can you get your nose out of your book for five minutes to help me save our shit?" I consider myself blameless.  If J.K. Rowling didn't write so damn good I wouldn't have been so out of touch with reality.  Also, I wouldn't genuinely wish that I was a wizard, either.

Going to Hogwarts sounds way better than another year in grad school.  Way, way, way better.