You’re there, God! It’s me, Bev!
Together in Christ,
Bev
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Bevvy G
I know, I know. It’s Sunday. Sunday Night. And you’ve all been waiting with bated breath for this week’s Funny Animal Friday post. I apologize.
I promise I have a good reason this time. I was celebrating my bestie’s wedding in the beautiful mountains. And by ‘celebrating my bestie’s wedding in the beautiful mountains’, I obviously mean…
*I had a lot of animal confusion on the drive there (and back). Seriously- WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A LLAMA AND AN ALPACA? (Yes, I know I could Google this information, but mostly, I don’t care. Obviously.)
*I got home at 2:30am, then stayed awake until 4:30 with my weekend roommate, Red Fox, having a drunken heart to heart. Shoutout, Red Fox! Big Dog… Little Dog roommates for life! (Obviously, I am Fred, and Red Fox is Ted)
*We woke up to a nightstand that looked like a bunch of frat boys invaded our room. Gatorade, water, cheese, crackers, salami, Nutella, and a terrifyingly-placed knife. Shameful. It should also be noted that I was pantsless in a ‘less thinking, more drinking’ shirt, and Red Fox and I proceeded to drink a jug of strawberry Pedialyte.
*Then we ordered room service breakfast, and I essentially felt like I was taking the GRE when filling out the receipt. “What room is this again?” The delivery server man was obviously impressed. He’d probably be even more impressed to know that I just called him a delivery server man. Almost as impressed as my personal trainer is going to be when I’m sweating Coors Light at my 9am session tomorrow.
*I participated in a flash mob. Yes, seriously.
*I took more pictures of beverages than I did of people. This is a theme.
*I turned down a loooot of nature activities. Everyone was all, “Are you hiking or ziplining today?” And I was all…
YouTube credit: Brony Artemis
*I was gifted a bottle of wine by someone I just met this weekend, because she and her husband didn’t drink it over the weekend, and she couldn’t take it back on the plane with her. Fawn’s Florida Friend(s) quickly became Bev’s New Florida Friends.
Anyhoo, here’s a super late F.A.F. for you, my wonderful readers. This seal is essentially all of us looking at Fawn at the wedding. Seriously, homegirl looked stunning. Even after I stepped on her dress. #FreeChampagne
Love you, Fawn and Merle Martinelli! Enjoy your Italian honeymoon! Fawn, I’ll try to refrain from texting you. Which means I’ll have a note in my phone about five pages long, detailing everything I don’t want to forget to tell you. I know you’ll be dying to get home for that…
-Bev
Lots of people online get real pissy about the fact that there’s no taco or hockey emoji, and that’s all well and good, but these complaints always get me thinking…. which emoji(s) would I like to see from Apple? I’m in general very indecisive about, well, everything, but this is one case where I do actually keep coming back to the same idea(s).
We need a white wine and a black heart emoji, people.
Seriously, this would be the most perfect representation of my life. Like, if when these two emojis are created, I’m updating my Tinder profile to just be… a glass of white wine and a black heart. I see a major rise in swipes right, yes?
No.
But at least they’d know what they’re getting into.
-Bev
I’m not feeling creative enough to write much of a back story on this one today, but this is Bear, and he’s very busy. I like to think he’s a stockbroker, but who knows.
-Bev
As revealed in yesterday’s post, I have one more Mayberry highlight to share with you that should definitely be picked up as a reality show. Or possibly used as the setting for a horror movie. I’ll let my readers decide.
Last weekend, before my nieces left, the whole family had a picnic in the park, and then hit the links at the miniature golf course. And let’s just say I use the term ‘miniature golf course’ loosely. Basically, you can pay $5 to golf at a place that was (in the 1950s) probably a really nice, cute course.
Key word: was. Consider the fact that a) it hasn’t been kept up/remodeled at all in those 60 years, and b) that the same woman has run it for this whole time, and you’ve got the perfect setting for… well, a reality show, or a horror film.
Essentially, this woman is either
…very interested in mini golf, and sits at this picnic table, watching you like a hawk, because she’s checking out your game (reality show).
or
…a serial killer, and sits at this picnic table, watching you like a hawk, because she’s going to sneak into your house while you sleep, and beat you to death with a mini golf club (horror film). In any case, she’s quite interesting, and if this picture doesn’t tell you everything you need to know, I don’t know what will.
The shoes. The hat. The cankles. The picnic table. The hawk stare that you can’t see, because I’m protecting her identity (mostly in case of the whole serial killer thing). The office behind her where the stores the supplies, and yells at customers (especially when they end up ‘in the rough’ on every other hole- I speak from experience, people- keep the ball in between the rails).
The absolutely best part? Her name is Marj. Marj. WITH A J. I can’t even take it.
So, readers, what do you think? Reality show or horror movie? It should be worth noting that Marj is extremely crabby and has a southern accent, the ‘golf course’ is pretty much set in a trailer court, and that I considered getting a tetanus shot after nine holes there.
Weigh in!
-Bev
Mayberry Highlights that haven’t yet been shared:
*Go to Mayberry bar, which we’ll refer to as the The Henning House (literally the only business establishment in town, and has the best steak you’ll ever eat in your life. And it ain’t grass-fed) with some friends from high school. Before I even get my ass into a barstool, the bartender asks if I want a Coors Light. Male friend from high school’s jaw hits the floor, and he proceeds to question me for 20 minutes about how I get service like that when I live 700 miles away. Hint: The Goldensteins as a whole spend quite a bit of time (and money) at the Mayberry bar. I don’t think he believed me when I told him that the bartenders often have my parents’ and aunt and uncles’ drinks at their table before they sit down, or that they a special glass solely for MamaG’s Manhattans, but I’m here to tell you- Bev don’t lie, y’all.
*Pick up cousin Bessie the morning after Smoke’s hand surgery to hit the gym and grocery store. As we drive back by my parents’ house (8 a.m.; 18 hours after surgery), we see ol’ Smokey rollin’ across the yard with a shop broom in one hand, and a drill in the other. I was there for the pre and post-op meetings with doctors, but I must’ve missed the part where they told him he could do whatever the hell he pleases the day after they cut his hand open.
(I would do a whole post about this surgery, but it’s really probably not funny to anyone else, and… well, he’d probably kill me if/when the parents ever do find out about this blog. Let’s just say, I don’t think the doctors have ever been asked by a patient about if/when he can drive a skidloader after surgery. And I’m damn sure the nurse was ready to get a tack hammer to get the IV into the man’s hand. She may or may not have said something to the effect of, “So, what kind of work do you to get these rough hands?”)
*And, just to round out this recap, we’re sitting on our porch the other night having cocktails, and Mom is talking to my aunt about picking up some hairspray for her when she goes to her nail appointment. Apparently, the beautician who works in the next town over has the phone number 998-COMB to help customers remember it (cute, right?). Upon hearing this, Smoke proclaims his number is 358-TRACTOR. I’m seriously considering changing mine to 530-WINO.
I’m seriously considering pitching a Goldenstein Mayberry reality show. Except the Goldensteins would rather have their hair set on fire than be on TV, so… we’re gonna have to settle for the updates from here.
But speaking of reality shows, stay tuned for an actual idea in tomorrow’s post. It’s a real gold(enstein) mine.
-Beverly
This week’s F.A.F. is quite near and dear to my heart, as this is the first edition in which I know the animal. Like, legit, I know this dog (not biblically… don’t go there, people). I actually saved her little canine life once. OK, maybe I didn’t exactly save her life, per se. But I did happen to find her the one and only time she magically escaped from her house/yard, and I happened to be on my way over, walking down the sidewalk with a bottle of wine, and basically clapped at her/chased her away from the street until Fawn heard the racket came out and got her. I probably would’ve even picked her up had she actually gotten too close/ran into the street (if I could’ve kept her in one hand and the bottle of wine in the other, that is).
It also happens to be this little lady’s birthday tomorrow, so feel free to leave Miss Maddie some birthday wishes in the comments below. I’ll take screen shots and text them to her. (She wants to be a subscriber, but her mom refuses to get her a smart phone until she’s a teenager, which is bullshit. I help her out when I can, and she mostly agrees to stay away from me when I go to her house.)
Here she is, 4 years, 364 days old as of this posting, and probably currently dreaming of this year’s birthday cupcake… Maddie:
Happy birthday, Mads! I’ll keep working on Mom about that smart phone, and enjoy your yearly cupcake!
Your friend (from afar),
-Bev
Well, as you know, I’m home on the farm visiting my parents, and Smoke Goldenstein is ‘laid up’ as he would say, so I got roped into helping farm today. They say you learn something new every day, and I would say that today, I learned that there are a lot of words that I don’t know, like hudekai (who-duh-kai as in sky). Even after MamaG explained it to me, I literally have no idea what it means, and when I tried to Google hudekai, articles in Turkish came up (OK, I made up Turkish, but it sure as hell wasn’t English). I essentially felt like either a second language learner or a damn hard of hearing person1 all morning. I could pick up about 60% of what was being said, and was trying to fill in the remaining 40% with context clues, body language, and common sense. All while trying not to grind my leg up in an auger or some shit.
The good news is, I didn’t grind up any body parts in any machinery. The bad news is, I have to help again tomorrow.
-Bev
1Yes, I realize that I probably would already qualify as hard of hearing, and even more so after listening to this loud-ass machinery all day. This is not a good thing.
I’ve had Taylor Swift’s “Mean” stuck in my head for three days, and I had a couple cocktails last night for a slight hangover, and I was so hungry I thought I was going to puke, and then my niece stepped in dog poop and was in the back of the van, and when I tried to get out of the van, the godforsaken automatic door closed on me, and I couldn’t get out, and if I go to Hell, I’m certain that it’s going to be a lot like the first half of my day.
But then I ate my weight in fried chicken, and now I’m drinking champagne in pajamas, so if I go to Heaven, I’m certain it’s going to be a lot like the second half of my day.
-Beverly
After spending my week with my two nieces, this photo seems pretty fitting. Mostly, because they’re always grabbing my phone when I’m not looking, and searching it for games, and then I’m always worried they’re going to download $30 worth of country music. But then I remember it’s drunk Bev that does that.
-Bev