First of all, I must admit, I am a celebrity gossip junkie. I love to read about the latest thing my favorite actresses/actors/musicians are doing/wearing/saying. But I have a bit of disdain for those people who are "celebrities" for absolutely no reason at all. They haven't done anything to propel themselves to stardom - i.e. acted in a movie, had a hit song, talked on the radio (j/k!) - they're just famous because they were born into a rich family. Lucky them, but I'm still not sure why anyone cares what they are doing. Especially when they pull something like this:
TMZ has confirmed with limousine manufacturer Armor Horse, that Kim Kardashian - the girlfriend of New Orleans Saints running back Reggie Bush - will be chauffeured around Miami next week during the Superbowl in a tank/limo hybrid featuring bulletproof windows and composite ballastic panels.
The 2009 Armor Horse Vault XXL looks like a combination between a Brinks truck, an 18-wheeler, and an ambulance. It seats 28 people and features over six-and-a-half feet of standing room. The price tag is a hefty $770/hr. during Superbowl week, or roughly $8,000/night. If you want to buy it, the Armor Horse retails for $149,900 and boasts functional gun ports, two bars, seven TV's, and various emergency escape hatches.
Why Kim Kardashian needs more protection than Colts' star Peyton Manning, Saints' QB Drew Brees, or even her boyfriend - all of whom will be taken to the Superbowl in a regular old charter bus with police escorts - is anybody's guess.
I have no words...
xoxo
-Charley ;)
Did you ever notice how it seems one weekend there will be absolutely nothing to do, and then the next there will be at least six different things to decide among?  You'll have one whole weekend where you're just itching for something fun to do with your friends or family and there's nothing really going on, and then the next weekend a wedding, concert, festival, party, game, race, BBQ, etc. will all fall on the same day. There's no possible way you can do them all, but they all seem like a good time in their different ways. Come on, Gods & Goddesses of the Social Calendar...how about a little communication?
xoxo
-Charley
From WFMY-TV
Triad, NC -- Four Needles have been found in products in stores within four days of each other.
It started over the weekend, when a needle was found in a pack of M&M's in a Walgreen's in Henry County, VA. on Saturday. The same day, a syringe was found in pack of hamburger meat in a Wal-Mart in Eden. Sunday, a needle was found in a box of Q-Tips in that same Wal-Mart.
Mondy, Kyle Sumrall of Reidsville was arrested in connection to the incidents. Police say he planted the needles in the products to create a distraction so he could steal merchandise. Police said he had an accomplice during the incident in Virginia.
Tuesday, another needle showed up in a product; this time at a Food Lion in Reidsville. Sumrall was in jail at the time and police are investigating whether there is a connection.
The string of incidents has Reidsville residents talking.
"I can't believe anybody would step that low, you know, and do that kind of stuff, just don't make any sense, I don't know what the world's coming to," said Bryant Turner.
"I think it's sad that some people have to resort to something like that that can harm other people," said Tammy Carpenter. "I do think there's probably copycat incidents that have happened or will happened because of this."Michael Smith said, "We have a six year-old and to know that somebody is going around doing that is a real concern."Sumrall is in the Rockingham County Jail under $500,000 secured bond.
Yep, it's a new year, decade, et. all. Time to wipe the 'ol slate clean, forget about the resolutions we didn't keep in 2009, and look ahead. I spent the holiday weekend working on my extensive list of predictions of the coming year...mark my word, I betcha at least some of these will come true!
1.) Mankind will finally get frustrated enough with cell phones with touch screens and tiny buttons that Apple will release the iCrank, the revolutionary communication device that requires one to crank it, then holler at Sara the operator to get in touch with your girlfriend.
2.) North Carolina will propose a new bill that not only keeps smokers from puffing inside, but also will force those who eat to do so outside.
3.) Chuck Marsh will cry during Words to Live By...
4.) Traditional exercise will be abandoned, moving to the 'flapping arm bird game' on Wii Fit. A Wii diet will follow, advertised on late night infomercials.
5.) Once the 2012 movie leaves theaters, we'll buy a new bomb shelter to only find out that the end of the world will really be in 2014.
Let's make it a great decade!
Alright...well it's almost midnight on night one at Lowes Motor Speedway, and we're set up in our Country Roads RV Mobile Command Center, ready and pumped for this weekend's race festivities, or as my buddy Neil says, 'We're goin' NASCAR'! Yeah, he's a good bit special, but that's beside the point.
Jeff, our buddy at Country Roads RV Center has really set us up right. We're right along the fence, 3/4 of the way along the back straightaway into turn 3, which means technically, Gunner and I can sit in the recliners and watch the race and not miss a beat...pretty cool, I think!
Gunner's relations, however, are getting on my nerves. Me thinks he started calling everyone last year and told them to come out of the hills and the hollers of East Tennessee to crash this little party of ours. Next door to us is an old 1974 Thomas school bus that was converted into a redneck riviera, and on the other side, another bus that had to be towed in...geesh.
I suppose one of the buses ran out of room, cause here comes Gunner's cousin/brothers knocking on the door of our sweet camper trying to score sleeping arrangements with us...
take a look...
Lord, beer me strength...it's gonna be a long weekend...see you on the radio starting at 5, as long as Gunner's relations don't fart the place up too much.
If you've been following me on Facebook, you'll know that this weekend has been eventful in the line of yard work. First and foremost, I had to put my poor push mower to rest after her rings and valves went bad. I'm still hurting about that one.
However, as I gave 'er her last run across my .25 acres, I was appalled.
Underpants...tighty whities to be exact. Now, no one in their right mind just opens up a fresh package of perfectly good underpants and says, "I don't want these" and proceeds to tossing them in my yard. I know better than that. Hense why you see a stick in my hand to handle the evidence. Of course, while mowing, I quickly have to think about the best plan of action. Do I simply mow over them?
No, that would be a horrible idea...what if...well, you know.
So I resort to the stick-in-hand idea, snagging them and throwing them in the street. That's right, it's High Point's problem now.
But now, I can't help but think about how they got there, and why they're in my yard in the first place. I'd like to think that one of the neighbor's washing machine was out of service, so they walked their clothes down the street to use someone else's. Then, maybe on their return trip back to their house, there was a sudden gust of wind that caught the suspect and blew into my yard.
No, that sounds too logical for me. The other 'whys' and 'hows' simply go down hill from here, so I'll save you the disgust.
But yet, I still choose to attempt once every ten years or so...why, I'm not so sure. Yesterday was so ridiculously miserable that I put off mowing the yard...again...and went with Morgan to see our friends Charlie and Brenda down Burlington way. What an awesome afternoon hanging out with all of their riding buddies, trying my hardest not to drown in 4 feet of water.
Seriously, I'm a terrible swimmer. Their deep end is 8 feet. I'm 6' 3". That's 1' 9" of water over my head to touch the ground.
Yes, I'm a wuss.
I grappled hard on 8 or 12 of those foam 'noodles' to keep myself afloat, while Morgan and all of our friends pointed and laughed.
Now, it's Monday, and I'm burnt, but seriously cooled off after a blazin' weekend.
-PMT
So Gloriana's new CD came out on Tuesday...turned out their debut turned into like the best seller of the day on iTunes and Amazon, plus could potentially be the biggest CD of the week...so, what does the band do? They attempt to steal their album from Best Buy in New York City. Smart...have you ever seen how tight security is in Best Buy!
You know, you're not the only person that's ever had your phone number. With that said, I have to be weary who has had my telephone number in a previous life. For example, I get calls at home asking for the pharmacy at Rite-Aid in High Point. Of course, when you try to be polite and explain, "No, this isn't the Rite-Aid...it's just me" people think you're actually the pharmacy just trying to play some cruel, unusual joke on him or her on the other line.Â
Listen, I may not have a 'life', but I do have lots of better things to be doing with my free time. Lucky for me, those calls aren't that frequent. As a matter of fact, my landline really is an 'emergency hotline' for people like my mother. When it rings, it's either her, or someone looking for pills.
Which leads me to my next concern: the cell.
I think my cell phone was a drug dealer in a past life. See, I've had this cell number since December '08, and without missing a beat, it seems that I get a thousand calls and text messages between 2 and 3 a.m. Sunday morning, usually from New Jersey and Kentucky (random, I know), looking for, no joke, 'Pat Sajak.'
Yep...Pat Sajak. Apparently, upon further investigation, after getting josteld out of bed at 2:45 a.m., a vowel was the only thing these people from Kentucky and New Jersey wanted to buy. Now, I'm not up on my drug-dealing etiquette, but I think 'Pat Sajak' is a street name, and a 'vowel' is code for some kind of drug. All I'm sayin' is that apparently cell phones are a lot like your partner's previous relationships: there are just some things that are better off not brought out into the open. As for these 'contestants' calling my house at all hours of the night, please leave me alone. These gameshow references are making my head spin.
Hate to be a wet blanket, but ya know, after the fifth time hearing that during a round of putt-putt with my girlfriend, I start to believe that my manhood is in serious jeoparody.Â
Morgan had been hounding me to take her to the High Point Putt-Putt course after a less-than-perfect performance by your's truly during our Myrtle Beach trip. I know her motivation, honestly. She knows that Putt-Putt is my weakness, and it's yet another opportunity for her to beat the tar out of me! Heck, she's already proven her superior Uno skills and Putt-Putt skills, so why in the world does she want to keep beating a perverbial 'dead horse'...c'mon.
Every time she sank a hole-in-one, she would raise her putter high in the air as if that instrument was some sort of midieval sword and she had just slain the biggest dragon in the land, and then shouted at the top of her lungs, above the chatter of young children, "WOOO I got a hole in one!!! Hole in one! Take that!!!"
Seriously...c'mon...
It was cute the first couple of times...but it got to the point that the man running the Putt-Putt course announced over the public address system how sweet I must be to let my girlfriend win.
Yeah...that's the story...let...her...win...that's the ticket.
However, if you wanna know how I fared, it's like this...I did get two holes-in-one, and at the end, I only lost to her by two strokes.Â
I did, however, dominate her in ski ball...but not if you ask her.
I have no words...
xoxo
-Charley ;)
You know, you're not the only person that's ever had your phone number. With that said, I have to be weary who has had my telephone number in a previous life. For example, I get calls at home asking for the pharmacy at Rite-Aid in High Point. Of course, when you try to be polite and explain, "No, this isn't the Rite-Aid...it's just me" people think you're actually the pharmacy just trying to play some cruel, unusual joke on him or her on the other line.Â
Listen, I may not have a 'life', but I do have lots of better things to be doing with my free time. Lucky for me, those calls aren't that frequent. As a matter of fact, my landline really is an 'emergency hotline' for people like my mother. When it rings, it's either her, or someone looking for pills.
Which leads me to my next concern: the cell.
I think my cell phone was a drug dealer in a past life. See, I've had this cell number since December '08, and without missing a beat, it seems that I get a thousand calls and text messages between 2 and 3 a.m. Sunday morning, usually from New Jersey and Kentucky (random, I know), looking for, no joke, 'Pat Sajak.'
Yep...Pat Sajak. Apparently, upon further investigation, after getting josteld out of bed at 2:45 a.m., a vowel was the only thing these people from Kentucky and New Jersey wanted to buy. Now, I'm not up on my drug-dealing etiquette, but I think 'Pat Sajak' is a street name, and a 'vowel' is code for some kind of drug. All I'm sayin' is that apparently cell phones are a lot like your partner's previous relationships: there are just some things that are better off not brought out into the open. As for these 'contestants' calling my house at all hours of the night, please leave me alone. These gameshow references are making my head spin.
