So you wanna build a custom home… in Scottsdale… at the end of the frothiest real estate bubble… EVER.
You’ve bought the land – a pretty patch of 1.13 acres that backs up to an ocean of prickly pear, turpentine bush and saguaro cactus known as the Tonto National Forest. Your brother-in-law / architect-to-the-stars drew the most outstanding plans in the universe: 3,300 square feet of unsheathed cool, including a fireman’s pole from the upstairs closet to the garage. And yes, it adhered to code… along with the bookcase-cum-secret door that leads to the media cave that has another secret door that leads to the pantry (with wine cooler) so you can get snacks and not miss the movie. And did I mention the wrap-around porch -12 feet deep – with the disappearing glass wall that has an unobstructed view of Four Peaks.
Oh, and no one can ever build behind you because it’s a National Forest.
This has been your dream and your all-consuming project for the past five years… until you wake up one morning to discover you’re living in your own reality show, lovingly titled: BUILD ME A HOUSE, CRACKSMOKERS!
Stacy Bertinelli: Enemy of Technology
My sweet husband bought me a Bluetooth headset yesterday. I hope to return it to the store tomorrow, as I am relieved I did not throw it out the car window today.
HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME???
It’s not that I don’t appreciate advances in communication, or that I wasn’t moved by his heartfelt longing to save his fellow motorists from the physical trauma and extensive body work derived from my swerving attempts to talk on my cell phone while shifting the MINI into third. Brings a whole nother dimension to its nickname: The Menacing MINI.
ARE YOU THERE? I CAN’T HEAR YOU? IS THIS THING ON? HELLO?
Know this, fellow Luddites: Had my husband not given me this Bluetooth as a gift, I would have placed it beneath my 18-inch sub-dubs and backed up… and then rolled forward… and then backed up… and then rolled forward… and then scooped up what was left of the damned thing and deposited it at the base of Coolidge’s favorite tree to await a yellow christening by the smartest dog in the universe.
I don’t hate the Bluetooth because I hate technology. Rather, I hate technology that is supposed to make my life simpler but instead makes me feel like a dumbass. The gloves come off here… Don’t say you weren’t warned.
The Drrty Dozen: Team Limoncello Tips for Future Mud Runners
1) It cannot be repeated enough: Just because you mix Gatorade with vodka doesn’t mean you’re hydrated.
2) Mexican food recommended by a 52-year-old man with braids in his beard does not a good training table make.
3) Don’t run behind Jeffro or Pat if they ate Mexican food last night.
4) Cover or hover – there is no alternative when using a public toilet, especially if you’re Jeffro.
5) Don’t forget to take a towel! Or duct tape… or dry clothes… or sunscreen… or FLIP FLOPS since you’re going to throw away your shoes anyway.
6) Expect to find rocks in your jog bra when you’re done… and know this is why men are staring at your chest: It looks like you have triple-nipples.
7) If Stacy pushes all-in with three Oreos, she’s on a draw and Pat will get lucky tonight.
8) Beer snob or not, that cold Coors Light will be the best beer you’ve ever had when you’re done.
9) If you are wading chest-high through the lake and hit a warm pocket, don’t go underwater.
10) Kiss and/or thank the Marine before you use his thigh as a step-stool – it’s a courtesy.
11) Trim your finger- and toenails before starting the race because “The best manicurist in Scottsdale won’t want to touch those when you’re done,” says Roger, Our Hero.
12) Don’t leave your wet, muddy clothes tied up in a plastic bag in the back of your BMW… in the sun… for two days.
Team Limoncello Gets Down and Drrty at Mud Run
CAMP PENDLETON, Calif. – Before we begin, we offer this important training tip for Mud Run aspirants: Just because you mix Gatorade with vodka, doesn’t mean you’re hydrated.
Hungover, out of shape and unprepared, Team Limoncello completed the World Famous Marine Corps Mud Run in 1 hour, 34 minutes and 59 seconds Sunday at Camp Pendleton. In their maiden Mud Run, team captain Kellee “Goat” Stooks, team sherpa Patrick “Mud” Bertinelli, team orthopedic surgeon Jeff “Jeffro / The Ringer” Martin, team personal injury attorney Roger “Our Hero” Martin and I, team bartender and official scribe Stacy “Toes” Bertinelli, finished in 202nd place overall – 94th in the Mixed Team division.
But we can say we were the fastest hungover team in our age group – and we did beat 99 other teams, and even whipped 386 individuals who started the run 15 minutes ahead of the teams… though we cannot vouch for their blood-alcohol content.
Here is our triumphant Team Limoncello victory photo…
Now, before you start complaining that “Hey, these’s guys don’t look too muddy,” please note that both Patrick (left) and Roger (far right) were wearing white T-shirts when we started the race… and this was after we’d been blasted by fire hoses. Click here to read more and find out whether you’d like to be one of us, the few, the proud, the Team Limoncello Mud Runners…
Continue reading Team Limoncello Gets Down and Drrty at Mud Run
Stacy’s American Idol Blog, aka The Apocalypse is Nigh
Hello, my name is Stacy… and I watch American Idol.
It’s not something I’m proud to admit – it’s easier, in fact, to confess that my favorite South Park episode of all time is ‘Stupid Spoiled Whore Video Playset,’ but after what I witnessed on Tuesday and Wednesday nights, I’ve decided to come clean… in part, for what American Idol has revealed to me about myself…
BEWARE: I’M ABOUT TO SAY SOME POLITICALLY INCORRECT AND EXTREMELY OFFENSIVE THINGS BELOW THE FOLD, SO DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU WANT TO MAINTAIN YOUR FOND FEELINGS FOR ME
Continue reading Stacy’s American Idol Blog, aka The Apocalypse is Nigh