Newscoma

Cuppa Joe called me a fishing virgin this morning on Facebook, which seriously made me spew coffee on this borrowed computer. Sorry Michael.

Today, my friend Trudy is taking me fishing. I’ve never been fishing before. We were not a family of fishing/hunting people (actually, we were an odd family growing up.) To describe my home life as a child would be a very strange thing to do. I can tell you that it was spectacularly bizarre.

Of course I told the very famous Dirk Diggler about me going on a boat to catch fish and he was skeptical as he knows me pretty well. I was concerned about minnows on hooks (which he scoffed at)  and I will NOT touch a cricket. And, of course, there was a high sense of phobia on my part attached to the concept about catfish eating me.

He is my resident fishing expert, as Trudy is, and I think it would be cool to start a battle of the sexes between them to see who catches the most fish. They are both deadly serious about their fishing prowess. They also most likely would ignore my idea for a media fishing event to rival Billie Jean King and Bobby Riggs but I can dare to dream.

Yesterday, either due to crippling depression or a wickedly smart plan to save my strength to fight killer catfish, I slept most of the day. Ironically, I slept most of the night as well. I think I’m ready to fight a catfish if necessary although Trudy assures us that we will not fun into any lake monsters except for pterodactyls. (She says there is a bay that has these ancient beasts there. I remain oddly optimistic as you know I have a fascination with finding Bigfoot tracks and to see aliens, who these days I welcome as I think they might offer me a PR job as no one in the state of Tennessee seems very interested in doing that right now.)

I have decided that I’m ready for the challenge. I’m also going to bring a cooler in case I fail miserably so I can drown myself in self-pity and cheap beer if I don’t catch anything or get my leg bitten off by evil catfish.

I have a feeling it will be entertaining. I mean for those guys with me because I have a gut instinct that this could be a laff-a-rama for the seasoned fisherwomen with me.

And there will be cupcakes made by Homer for absolutely no reasons whatsoever, because nothing says fishing like beer and cupcakes.

This will be something to see, my friends, and I will be the second to die if this were a horror film.

Just saying.

It’s really the only option.

H/T Chicken Crap

I go through this every day talking about politics. Every DAY I’m telling you.

Why?

Go here. You will understand a little better.

Brokaw had a an idea to spice up the multitude of presidential debates, which can become tiresome. “I would bring the candidates over to my apartment, and I would mix them a batch of martinis or we’d do a few tequila shots,” he said. “About three martinis in apiece, or about four or five tequila shots in apiece, I’d say, ‘Alright what do you really think about Hillary or Obama.’ My guess is that’s a form of truth serum.”

“So you’re recommending drunk debates, is what you’re saying,” O’Brien asked. “I’m for it,” said Brokaw.

Brokaw also described his experience with drugs and alcohol growing up, saying, “I was a child of the ’50s. I liked getting tanked up on good scotch and drinking a lot of beer.”

I knew I always liked Brokaw.

H/T Mediabistro 

It’s been two years.

I think the government should give me a bunch of money to build a time machine. Yeah, that would be cool and it would have a keg and David Tennant on board, who would entertain me by pointing out all the cool things in history that I probably have forgotten. Here’s my first post.

In my time machine that the government will pay for because they sho’ do like spending money, I will head back to 1960 and have a groovy dirty martini as I contemplate the next 48 years and how funny looking Richard Nixon was (or is, I wonder). As I wasn’t even a sperm then, I might just spy on my parents, but then that would be gross. Or, I could head back to the nineties, when I made more money and was not as saucy as I am now.

Or, I could just tip up a lovely Bass beer today and celebrate myself. (No one else will, so I have to do it.)

Man, I haven’t changed much, have I since day one, have I?

So thanks. It’s been swell. I’ve enjoyed you guys more than you will ever know. Thanks for lifting a beer with me on occasion, sending me nice emails and even having a friendly debate from time to time.

Blogging. Yeah, it’s fun. Keeps me sane.

Do you get Blog Birthday presents?

No, you say.

Damn.

Anyway, happy day to you.

Hey campers, a picture I took on my birthday revelry has been included in Smap Nashville.

It’s the outside of South Street restaurant.

Wow. I think I’d had a beer when I took it, but if they like it, bully for us all.

Happy Thanksgiving, campers. Thank YOU for making this fun. I really appreciate it. The family thing awaits as does turkey, dressing, pickled okra, beer…

You know, the standards.

Have a lovely holiday and see you on the flip side.

Photo from The Boat Lullabies, which is FANTASTIC.

Over the past few months, I’ve contemplated if I’m happy here in Hooterville. Most of the time I guess I am, but over the past few months I’ve been sniffing around looking to see what opportunities might be available for me. It’s the wanderlust in me or the fact that I spent my late teen years in Montreal and Amsterdam where I just dug it, I’m guessing, or it could be that I love me some 401K plans.

Man, those are so groovy.

And I also like cities. With sushi readily available.

‘Cause you know, I’m not getting any younger. But I do have a new haircut that is pretty saucy so I’ve got that going for me.

As much as I love blogging (and I do) the bank likes the car payment to them in a timely manner as well as buying food. I like food. Food is good. And Christmas presents for the nieces.

And beer. Forgot about that one thing.

So, I’ve been sniffing around Craig’s List and online job networks around the state. I’ve had some interesting feedback and it’s been unusual to say the least. One question I get is “Do I want to stay in the news biz?”

Well, sure. But I’m not married to it. Of course, the best job would be to be queen of the lottery in the state of Tennesse, but I see that one is taken.

Suh-weet.

Anyway, another question is would I want to get back into radio. Sure, again, but radio doesn’t pay that well either. I realize what I really want to do is win the lottery. (I’m still on that one, aren’t I? Changing direction here.)

As there are no job opps in ghost hunting and Bigfoot searching, I thought about becoming a television writer, but I hear there are some union problems, so I guess that’s out too. And I’m not that clever.

Now, at 42 years old, you are probably hearing me write in this post the middle-aged quandary of “What does Newscoma want to be when she grows up?”

An Astronaut? But I’d probably puke at the moment of take-off and I’m really bad at Math and Science. Dang.

Actually, I like the idea of marketing or even possibly going out as an anti-war critic. That could be good. I don’t think anti-war critics get paid very much though. Dang again.

The other thing I’ve learned about myself is that I like living in the South. I really do. Or San Diego, although I’ve never lived there before, I think it would be a fine place. The South is of the good, and I like SEC football, so there. Yeah, the South it is then. Hopefully in Tennessee. I like Tennessee as well. I also like pickled baby corn in case you were wondering.

And, other things I’ve determined is that I don’t want to build lawn mowers for a living. Looks hard.

Just saying.

I have no entertaining skills when it comes to the holidays. If you want a Pabst Blue Ribbon (I’ll be having a Bass, as I’m wont to do) and some cheetos, I’m your girl.

And cheese. Yeah, I dig cheese.

Anyway, I found this list online and it made me wonder what I’m doing wrong. And, the original article is here. And it’s called Foxy Festivities so I listed their advice just for you, campers. My answers are in red.

1. Reserve the bird Reserve a turkey and schedule a pick-up, so you avoid racing around at the last minute to find the perfect one.

Okay, no. They are in the frozen turkey section at the grocery store which usually has a lot of people rooting around for 2 more ounces of rock-hard bird. Not gonna do any reserving of Tom Turkey. We usually eat chicken anyway.

2. Brush up Dust off your linens. Wash and iron them so they are table-ready.

Ironing. Next. Paper towels are your friend. Or your sleeve. Have another Pabst.

3. Dig in Dig up those Thankgiving-exclusive utensils that you’ll need, including items such as gravy boats and turkey carvers. This way you’re not scrambling on Thanksgiving day.

I have a gravy boat. Okay, I’ll get that out. I like the words “gravy boat.” Wait, it’s not my gravy boat. It’s Homer’s. I’m not allowed to touch it.

4. Lighten up Stock up on candles: tapers, along with some pillars and votives in autumnal hues to adorn your home.

I buy candles all the time. No biggie here. What is a taper? We have goats around here. Will that do? Aren’t they in the same family?

5. Order in Place an order for a centerpiece or floral arrangement. If you plan on making your own, order flowers for your local shop to set aside for you. Consider gourds and pumpkins for your table or around your home.

I will not order a flower arrangement, but that money can go to hooch and pickled okra. The table is filled with magazines I have to read. Just scoot them over if you come over. And old newspapers. I will buy a gourd, just to be Foxy Festive and classy

6. Easy freeze Prep and freeze homemade cranberry sauce ahead of time.

I’ll freeze some jello shooters. I don’t like jello shots but I had one last week and only gagged a little and then had another. That’s how it goes. I will also freeze some water. It becomes this crazy thing called ice. My parties are BYOB. I will supply some Dr. Pop, SunDrop and Shasta. What time are you coming again?

7. Make arrangements Create place cards for your guests. Purchase plain cards and address ‘em up with a rubber stamp or ribbon.

Oh, that’s funny. Really. I’m laughing.

8. Mix it up Be your own DJ by crafting a music playlist. Burn CDs or create a long holiday mix on your iPod.

No problem on this one. I hope you like Miles Davis and Johnny Cash.

9. Refresh your refreshments Load up on wine and beverages. Make sure you have ample glassware.

PARTY! Where are the Solo cups!?!!

10. Give thanks Thanksgiving should include a ritual where everyone expresses what they are thankful for. Make “Thanks” cards for all your guests to write down why they are grateful.

No problem. I will give thanks. I’m glad to be alive everyday, thankful for a great family, superfriends (not to be confused with the Wondertwins) and a moderately good life. I give thanks everyday. I’ll do it with more gusto next week. Pinkie Promise.

I’m really a better guest than I am a party thrower.

I know a good juke joint if you are interested. It just depends on what you are in the mood for.