Archive for the 'Tennessee' Category

Published by PaintingChef on 01 Jul 2010

In which the current “literary” craze helps me name the boat. And a stake is driven through my heart as a result.

I have a list of favorite things. We all do. Topping mine are spending days on the lake in the summer and watching thunderstorms from my front porch. (Followed closely by the smells of superglue, gasoline and permanent markers but that’s a post for a different kind of rehab, no?)

But my top two favorite things (hmmm… top two? But what of my shoes? And chocolate cake? Perhaps I should reconsider the finality of my above statement…?)

I really love the lake and I really love thunderstorms. And these two jokers are also really fond of one of those two things…

But on Monday night of this past week, two of my favorite things came dangerously close to canceling each other out. Allow me to set the scene… Patrick and I were sitting on the front porch to watch the wind whip, sky darken, rain blow and lightning crackle. Front row seats kids. (Until he wussed out and demanded that we go inside lest we be electrocuted by a wayward bolt. HELLO! COVERED PORCH!) But before said wussing occurred, we heard the unmistakable snap of a breaking pine tree. (Having lived in Georgia, I know that sound and the big boom that normally follows it as the limb of death crashes to the ground… or onto your roof… whatever). So I waited a half second, bracing myself for the boom-crash that… never came?

I then saw something shiny and totally forgot about the fate of the tree and went inside to look for candles because did I mention that our power unfailingly goes out when there is any sort of storm?

A few minutes later, Patrick came back in with a glowingly white face that I could even see in the dark. (what with there being no power and all)

“Hey… guess where that tree landed?”

“No idea.”

“Come look.”

Well shit.

Naturally, we were then outside standing in the opening of the garage (after Patrick pried the garage door open with the emergency red lever-string thing that sometimes whacks me in the head and until then I had no idea what its purpose in life was) contemplating the damage. And when you stand in your garage looking at the tree that crashed into your boat (AND FENCE! NOBODY CARED ABOUT THE FENCE BUT ME!!) in the big storm, neighbors eventually show up and then there is beer.

After talking to the insurance company, we were given the blessing to go ahead and have the tree cleaned up so we could begin to really assess the damage to the boat.

(FYI… the only bigger party than a tree on your boat in the rain is when you pull out the chainsaw to clean up said tree. One neighbor showed up with HIS chainsaw in hand, eyes huge and said only “I heard a chainsaw!!” And then there was more beer.)

Fortunately, in the light of day and non-rain and a swarm of mosquitoes, the damage appeared to be largely cosmetic. Some torn cushions and a ripped boat cover. It appears that the vessel is still sea-worthy. However, it also seems that nature mistook our boat for a vampire and attempted to kill it in an appropriate manner…

We are now considering naming the boat the SS Edward Cullen. (Nobody else got it when I suggested Lestat de Lioncourt. I died a little inside… curse you Stephanie Meyer!!)

Published by PaintingChef on 29 Dec 2006

The Time Machine.

Eventually, most all of us grow up and leave home. We carve out new little places in our new little worlds and we spread our wings. We learn how to create our own spaces and our new spaces are almost always influenced by the spaces we grew up in, some of us try to copy them while others of us venture as far in the opposite direction as possible.

I was thinking about this while I laying on my old bed in my old room at my parents’ house and looking around I noticed that it was kind of a shrine. That’s right. NOTHING had changed. That’s not true. There used to be a little couch but now the couch in is my dad’s office and has been replaced by a daybed so it just looks like it ate the other couch. Good times.

So as I am still feeling somewhat of a Christmas hangover and have no fully-formed thoughts inside my skull and haven’t even shown you my NEW! LAPTOP!, I’m going to share with you my cavernous bedroom looking almost exactly like it did in about 1998. Why is it that they would choose that period of my life to enshrine? Even I didn’t like me then… And please tell me something else…is it just me or is there something deliciously scandalous about bumping uglies in your parents’ house in your old bedroom? Yes? No? Just me? Okay then…

I present to you…the shrine.






Published by PaintingChef on 13 Sep 2006

Making Emily Post hate me a little more.

Patrick and I were watching the replay of the Tennessee football game on Monday night. The replay of the game that we had already watched once because we bought it on Pay-Per-View.

At some point during the game, while we were also eating dinner in front of the television because we are ghetto and redneck and just might as well run around toothless and barefoot because, well, apparently that’s what people think of Tennessee, when I shouted out something that instantly made my brain writhe in agony.

“Patrick! Look! I saw Cooter right there on the sidelines! There’s COOTER on the sideline!! I guess that DUI didn’t stick.

To which he responded in really the only way he could…

“My god I’m a lucky man.”

Because everyone knows that when watching Tennessee football, Cooter is a perfectly acceptable topic of conversation.


Published by PaintingChef on 11 Apr 2006

Patrick Discovers Google

“I wonder if they still have that Jim Bob Cooter t-shirt online that I wanted. Do you remember that shirt? It said ‘Put In Cooter’?”

“I don’t know Patrick, you could probably look for it and find out.”

“Would I just google ‘Cooter’?”

“You could google ‘Cooter’ but I seriously doubt you’d find that shirt…”

Published by PaintingChef on 25 Nov 2005

Why I Suck.

I KNOW! I’ve been M.I.A. But I’m doing the whole Tennessee Thanksgiving with the family and the massive amounts of turkey and then something happened…

dude. peaches. in. moonshine.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled blogslackerhood.

BUT…if you want a little dose of bitchery don’t forget about We 3 Bitches.

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