Browsing the archives for the air guitar tag.

Bobby letting her hair down (although it’s in a ponytail).

I am blessed, Mr. Tolerable, My life, Random Stuff

So, I was correct in my prediction that we would, indeed, perform as The Who in front of an audience.  What I didn’t predict was that we would put on a show for more than the smiling faces of our kids in their pictures.  For some reason (blame it on the Quervo they say) we decided it would be a good idea to go outside under the canopy.  We brought our laptop out and hooked speakers to it.  Good sound really.  It was a nice night and since RVers are notorious for being OUTSIDE their RV’s (even the people with the $200K ones – I don’t get it) we had a captive, live, and REAL audience.  But, we didn’t care.  We were rocking out and loving it. It’s ok though, because they were all drunk too.

Water bottle can be a mic or guitar.

Water bottle can be a mic or guitar.

During intermission of our show, we decided (OK I decided) we needed to smoke.  Just so you know, I don’t smoke.  Mr. Tolerable doesn’t smoke.  But, I thought just because we were so cool the only thing that would make us cooler would be a cigarette.  Mr. T was adamant about not letting me bum one or two off a fan neighbor.  So, we walked down the highway to a gas station and just bought a whole pack.  By now I am feeling pretty good and for some reason am having a hard time walking a strait line.  Mr. T was able to help me along the way.  Through clinched teeth he would say to me, “Don’t say anything to anyone.” as we would pass other Nascar people who were also feeling no pain and looking for conversation.  We get to the gas station that has a line of Harley Davidson’s in front of it.  We look through the window of the store and what do we see?  A police officer standing at the counter chatting it up with the gas station attendant.  “Shit” I say – I could just see us getting a public intox slapped on us and was doing my best to pretend I wasn’t drunk.  Have you ever tried that?  It’s hard.  I suggest to Mr. T, “I’ll just stand out here (in the parking lot).  You go in and get the cigarettes.”  I was answered with a resounding, “Absolutely not.  You stay with me and don’t say anything to anyone.”  We are in and out with no problem. Phew, close one.  LOL.

Trying to not look drunk - didn't work.

Trying to not look drunk - didn't work.

This is the a red-eyed raving banshee I spoke of.

This is the a red-eyed raving banshee I spoke of.

I got the camera out when we got back and was sitting on Mr. T’s lap snapping a few shots.  The picture to the right will show me as the lunatic I am and my husband doing his impersonation of Zoolander?  I really don’t know what we were doing but we were having fun.  After a while, we bored of the outdoor stage as people were finally finding their way into their houses on wheels.  We decided we would go in as well.  I mean, what fun is it to sing, “My Generation” and windmill your “guitar” if no one is there to laugh at watch you?

That’s where this story ends for you.  But, let’s just say MY story does not end until 3:30am – that’s right folks.  Single people don’t have ALL the good sex.  Thank you very much.

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  • Why I Write this Stuff

    My children called me Bobby when they were toddlers due to not being able to prounounce "Mommy." They are now 7 and 8 years old and I am Mommy. But my real name is Mandy. I just do this so I can keep in touch with the REAL me. Being a Bobby is a dream I thought I may never realize and I do not take it for granted. I homeschool (more specifically unschool) my two children and it's easy to lose yourself in the tasts of the day. I just want to make sure that after 19 or so years have passed,and my kids have moved out, I'm not stuck looking in the mirror and squinting in hopes of seeing Mandy again.