Archive for the ‘My Crazy Family’ Category

Walk-of-Shame, Father Included

While we’re bringing up the past (ie. yesterday’s post) and talking about T.G.I.Friday’s bartenders that I’ve dated (ok, so only one), I thought I would bring up this gem of a walk-of-shame story.

Corey, my partner in crime during the summer of 2002, and I were pretty pumped when I started dating a bartender since we were 19 and had shitty fake New Jersey IDs.  Granted, he tended bar at T.G.I.Friday’s, but if 20-ounce mudslides and Long Island Ice Teas were all we could get, we were gonna take it.  After a “crazy night out” at Friday’s, where we were probably overserved the aforementioned classy cocktails, we headed to an afterparty at one of the Friday’s guys’ houses (I think it was the “bar manager”).  Drinking games, cuddling, and what-have-you ensued until the sun came up, and we all crashed at the dude’s house.

The next morning, Corey and I awoke in our outfits from the night before, which I vaguely remember as being various degrees of slutty, considering we were just barely past age 18, still shopping at Abercrombie and Charlotte Russe, and were trying to look “of age.”  We got to my car and had high hopes of driving home and slipping into my parents’ house unnoticed.  All was going well…

…until my car just DIED.

Right in front of my dad’s office.

How could this be?  How could my faithful ’93 Altima fail me in such a crucial moment? Even if it had died somewhere else, I could have had my mom save the day and at least bring us a change of clothes.  But, my dad?!  What had I done to piss off the karma gods lately (besides sneaking into bars, of course)?

The thing is, my dad (who has since retired) owned an imported auto part supplier, so whatever we would need to fix my effing car was RIGHT in front of our faces..and in my dad’s hands.  There was no other option.  The car barely put-putted into the parking lot and we prepared to go in, all shreds of dignity long lost.  As I walked under the threshold, I had one last hopeful thought.  Could we act like we were just out grabbing breakfast and then heading to the mall? One look over at Corey and down at myself and I knew the answer to that one.

We walked in and all Dad could do was shake his head.  I thought I may have detected a smirk….but I think it was just a grimace.  We took a seat in the waiting area, reeking of whatever the hell 5 liquors are in Long Islands, and my dad breezed by us on his way out the door to fix the car….

…and coughed the word “sluts” under his breath.

His employees erupted in laughter.

We’d hit rock bottom.  At least for that week.


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Happy (late) Anniversary, you crazy kids!

My parents 32nd anniversary was last week on the 19th and I thought a dedicated blog to them would be a nice gift from the heart.  Cheap daughter, you’re thinking?  Well, maybe.  But I did  go all out for their 30th (I’m talking ALL out) and I think that should keep me in their good graces on the gift front until at least 2011.

Of course, it would have been nice to post this last week, but considering I’m a chronic late gifter (ie. birthday gifts usually take 3-4 months after the actual b-day, and I drag out wedding gifts until close to the couple’s 1st anniversary), I figured this week was appropriate (if not a bit early) for me.

So, my parents are pretty incredible.  My mom is probably the “hot one,” just because she is in her late 50s (is she going to kill me for this?) but she looks 35.  I’m not even joking and she’s had NO WORK done. None.  People think she’s my older sister when we go places together.  I like to make it known she’s my mother when we’re out just for the reactions we get.  She’s f*cking aging backwards.  Like Benjamin Button.  Her friends (some of which ARE in their 30s) think that one day she’s going to pull off her face, The Mask-style, to reveal what she ACTUALLY looks like.  She loves to party, flirt with young guys (then send them my way), and tell crazy stories (that’s where I get it).  She’s my best friend.

My dad is a good-looking guy, but his looks REALLY took a turn in the right direction when Dos Equis began their “Most Interesting Man in the World” campaign, because he really does resemble that guy.  Someone told him this when we were in Key West and he even tried to act the part to get free drinks in the bars!  Like father, like daughter (although I don’t have a bad ass doppleganger that I know of).  He also actually IS interesting.  He retired early after 20+ successful years running his own biz, flies his plane for fun, used to race cars, has a couple old school LandRovers and a classic Porsche that he’s fixed up, skis in the winter, kayaks in the summer, and can drink Guinness and red wine like a fish.  Oh, and he loves to tell dirty jokes.  See, I told you?

Here’s the happy couple about to take over the beer pong table at Starboard on our recent family vacay.  They effing beat Cory and me, too.  I’m still not over it.

Look at them!  They are actually still very much in love, after 32 effing years.  It’s hard for me to grasp.  They still joke around like they’re in their 20s.  They still hold hands.  They still do…other things.  Sick.

I decided to ask them what the secrets are to staying that happy for so long.  Since they love to text, I asked them via text.  Here’s how that panned out.

Me: Dad!  Think about why you and mom have been happily married for 32 yrs and ill call you later

Dad: better try mom if you want something profound for the blog

Ummm….since when is this blog profound?  Seriously, Dad.

Me: something funny!

Dad: lots of wine, a large house with separate TVs

Me: our house isn’t that big

Dad: large enough to keep us apart and happy

What…a dick.

Mom was up next.

Mom: serious reasons:  love, humor and committment.  real reasons:  separate vacations, lots of good wine and spending lots of time in the kitchen cooking together

Interesting.  While they both noted “lots of wine,” Mom stressed the importance of time together in the kitchen, while Dad is trying to get away from her in the house.  Typical.

I confirmed later that Dad was joking…sorta.  I think he likes having a large enough house so he can sketch off at night after too much of that “good wine,” and by the time Mom realizes he’s gone, it’s too late to make fun of him for passing out early.  Just my theory.

All I can say is that I hope to have a relationship like theirs one day.

You just laughed, didn’t you?

Room Traders

The Key West vacay was a month ago, but I’m just now getting around to posting this video.  What…a shocker.  But, better late than never, right?  Right.  I’m posting this mainly in hopes that MTV will see it and give me my own Cribs-meets-Room Raiders-type show, but maybe you’ll get a giggle out of it as well.

Basically, my cousin Lindsay and I (who grew up rooming together on beach vacays every summer when we were kids) checked into the Lighthouse Court and we were super excited to scope out our digs.  Upon walking in, we were ecstatic to see the fab TWO-STORY pad we would be living in for a week, complete with walk-in closet, which Lindsay deemed large enough “for a small child to stay in.”  I took that comment a step further, of course.  Listen carefully.

Then….we went around the corner to check out my parent’s room.

Here’s the vid.  Excuse my sans-makeup face.  Oh, and I may look like I’m naked in the first 20 seconds.  But, this isn’t that kind of video.

So, there you have it. It’s tough being the perfect daughter sometimes, but I enjoy every minute when I get to give back to my parents.  Linds and I spent the week in that sketchy room, but we had such a great vacay that at the end of the trip, we knew we would miss that round-screen TV, framed picture of the rooster (did you hear a real rooster crow in the vid RIGHT after we showed the picture?), and the sheets that felt like scratchy toilet paper.

And, yes, I did hit my head on the ceiling while checking out the second-floor bedroom.

Mom and Dad – hope you enjoyed YOUR amazing suite.  And knowing you two, I’m sure you enjoyed it a little too much.

Ok, that was gross.


More Key West highlights (or lowlights – you decide), can be found HERE.

So, here’s the thing…

I can’t believe I haven’t updated this blog since April 19th.  And, it’s May 2.  I feel like a total failure.  Well, at least in the blog department.  Everything else in life, I feel pretty good about.  The truth is, A LOT has been going on with me.  I moved from Brookhaven to Inman Park, so that has been consuming my life since I got back from the Cali wilderness because I literally had a week and a half to find a place.  Luckily, the apartment gods were smiling on me and I found a badass place right on North Highland and  right down the street from Kate Thacker.  I know what you’re thinking:  “Well, there goes the neighborhood.”  And, you’re right.

In addition, some things have changed professionally that have made things a little crazy in my life, but I’ll announce that this week in a separate blog post.  If you’re wondering if I’m changing career paths to become an exotic dancer…  might be on to something.

And, lastly, I was in Key West this past week for my cousin Scott’s wedding.  My family and I went down on Tuesday afternoon and stayed until Sunday, so it was a full week of complete debauchery.  I am actually in the Ft. Lauderdale airport right now, writing this to try to distract myself from the serious post-vacation depression and anxiety setting in.  It was the best week EVER.  All the family and friends from both sides were effing awesome and I feel like I have 10 new BFFs.  The close family and friends all stayed at the same hotel – we had it reserved from Thursday – Sunday, so that was a party at all times.  My favorite part was that the door to my room opened right out into the pool area, where everyone would eat breakfast.  So, that means I would stumble out hungover each morning to get water and some sort of carb and everyone would get the pleasure of seeing me at my best.

The room in that awesome locale wasn’t our original room, but my cousin Lindsay and I switched rooms with  my parents.  And, we made a video about it that I’ll upload this week.

We went to Irish Kevin’s 3 out of the 5 nights we were there and I was 110% OK with that.  Highlights from the first night included the drunk groom giving wedgies to his bride-to-be and me giving the bartender my phone number on my receipt at the end of the night.  He didn’t call, so I’m going to chalk that up to my handwriting not being legible.  Which, I think we all know is possible.

The rehearsal dinner on Thursday night was at Kelly’s and it was a blast and, of course, open bar.  My family got to give a speech, which meant I got to get a hold of the mic, so that night was a definite success.  We went to Irish Kevin’s AGAIN, and highlights from that night included my brother Matt chugging a Guinness as fast as anyone that worked at the bar had ever seen.  He basically got a standing ovation and I felt like a proud mother, er, sister.  My mom has the picture of this on her camera, which means, if we ever do get to see it, it will probably be 6 months from now.   Also, that night, I was walking home from the bar and realized I didn’t have my purse, so I dragged the person I was walking with back to the bars with me, only to finally find it sitting on a ledge on the street.  I had just set it down.  In plain view for anyone to take.  Don’t even ask.

Friday was a pig roast at the hotel pool, where the bartender was making the strongest drinks I had ever had.  I tasted Matt’s vodka and cranberry first and thought maybe she was just pouring liquor based on size of the person, but nope.  My vodka soda was just as strong.  All I can say is:  you go….girl.  All of the family and friends were in town at this point, so it was the most fun night of the trip for me.  Matt squeezed into an apron and even did the carving.

The actual pig is covered up at this point as I don’t want to offend any serious pig lovers (if those even exist).  You’re welcome, PETA.

We headed to Irish Kevin’s for the third time, where I was greeted by the bartender with an “Ashley!  Do you remember me from last night?”

“Of course!” I lied.  Then, I got nervous that I did or said something crazy to him.  “Actually, wait, what happened?”

“Well,” he said.  “You were really sweet at the beginning of the night, then you got really mean.”

“Well, that sounds about right.  I’ll have a double vodka and soda, please.”

This night was another shitshow because EVERYONE had gotten in town, which includes Scott’s friends, many of which can only be described as “wild animals.”  Of course, I had to chug a car bomb with them just to show that I could hang, and I didn’t even spill that much on myself.  Someone did tell me I had a car bomb mustache afterward, though.  I obviously didn’t wipe it off right away because that’s just plain sexy.  And, I think we all know that, as a single girl with lots of hot single guys around, I was on the prowl.  See excerpt from Thanksgiving entry, highlight #1 HERE.

Did I indeed find a victim?  Yeah, I guess you could say so.  But, I’d rather not get into that right now.

The wedding was the best wedding I’ve ever been to.  The ceremony and the reception were both at the Hemingway House, that the bride’s mother manages.  The ceremony (performed by a friend that got ordained), was short and sweet, the food was amazing, the bar was open and the music was fab.  Scott and Ashli are the perfect couple, are so in love, and we couldn’t be happier for them.  It WAS effing hot, but at least I got to wear a dress (unlike the groomsmen that were sweating their balls off), so I won’t complain.

Here’s the wedding party on the balcony of the Hemingway House right after the ceremony.  My mom has better pics on her camera, so you know what that means.

If you know anything about the Hemingway House, you may know about the six-toed cats that roam the place.  I love it.  It looks like this guy is wearing a mitten.

This blog post sure makes it seem like we just drank and partied the whole week.  I mean, we did, but we did other things, too.  We went out on my uncle’s boat, The Fever, and when I asked the boat captain, Buddy (who later would become my BFF), if I could get a Fever tee shirt, he informed me that they “only had smalls left, no larges or extra-larges).  W….TF.  I later learned that he was just messing with me…at least, I think so.

He’s not in this picture.  He was probably hiding from me after the tee shirt comment.

I’ll leave you with a photo I took of the sun setting at Mallory Square one night.  Apparently, my BlackBerry has a “pink” setting I didn’t know about.

So, basically, in conclusion, Key West is the best place on earth and it’s even better when you can spend the time with crazy friends and family.  Has my depression/anxiety subsided a little after writing this?  A little.  But, it just shot back up when I got this BBM from Lindsay who’s on another flight:  “Holy shit, there must be a sports team on our plane!  Tons of hot young meat in suits!  What…a sausage fest.”

I just can’t win.

Kid-ding Around

I got into a conversation the other day about whether or not I want to have kids.  The jury is still out on that one.  Yup, that’s right:  you may find this hard to believe, but I’m not really a kid person.  I think one day I MIGHT be, but for now, it’s just not really my thing.  I think a lot of kids are cute and funny, but I just don’t feel the need to babysit (as if anyone would ask me anyway) or approach strangers’ kids at the park, kneel down and talk baby talk to them.  Someone said this will all change when I meet the man that I want to have kids with.  I think we all know that is very far in the future….if in the future at all.

But, there is ONE kid that I am obsessed with: my mom’s best friend Jen’s kid, Hayden.  Keep in mind that Jen is in her thirties, but their friendship works because my mom is 57 going on 28.

I love this kid.  Every time Jen posts new pictures of Hayden on Facebook, I get so excited and show everyone around me.  Whenever I’m home for holidays, I make sure Hayden comes over so he can entertain me.  That’s right; Hayden doesn’t need entertaining.  He IS the entertainment.  He’s super smart, unbelievably adorable and he has great taste in Halloween costumes.

Hayden’s Halloween picture from 2007 is hands-down my favorite picture that I’ve ever seen in my life.

You ready for it?



Please tell me you just laughed.  And laughed hard.  Look at that perfect bowl cut!  The expression on his face is absolutely priceless!  And don’t even get me started on his paws up in the air!

After this picture surfaced, it got to a point where I was so obsessed that I had it as my phone background, on my desktop at work, on my fridge, AND my brother’s friend photo-shopped MY head into the picture and put it on Facebook.  Jen and Hayden even gave me a Christmas ornament with the picture on it (although I think Hayden was a little embarassed when he had to hand it to me).

The only people that I’m pretty sure DON’T think the picture is funny are the guys from Netherworld Haunted House (ie: one of the most intense, scariest haunts in the country).  When I got them as a client in 2008, I toured the haunt and later sent them an email saying how awesome and scary I thought it was.  And, since I felt like I could joke with them, I said something along the lines of, “if you need any more scary monsters this season, I have one for you” and inserted the picture of Hayden.

Cue:  cricket sound.

They did write me back…but didn’t even address the pic.  Which might even be worse than a non-response.  I guess they just hold their monsters to a much higher standard.

As Halloween 2008 started approaching, my friends and I were anxiously waiting to hear what Hayden would want to dress up as.  And then, Jen broke the news.  Hayden wanted to be a ghost.  Just a plain white sheet with 2 holes cut out for his eyes.

What the F*CK!?  We waited all year for Hayden’s ‘stume and it was a freakin’ ghost?!  I couldn’t even believe it.  I was pissed.  I told Jen that he better redeem himself in 2K9 or that was it: I was off Team Hayden.

Luckily, he did redeem himself.  While the photos aren’t as hilarious as Monsters, Inc. above, the thought of him going to his mom and saying “this is what I want to be for Halloween” is pretty funny.  Hayden wanted to be…

…a Nascar driver.

Why?, you ask.  Well, I think he does like the sport, but he also likes to make fun of rednecks.  No, seriously.  He has an impression of them and everything.  This Christmas, Jen sent me a video of him singing “All I want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth,” in his redneck voice.  Coincidence that he chose to sing a song about missing teeth for his redneck impression?  I don’t think so.  I told you he was smart.

The only kid I think gives Hayden a run for his money is his little brother, Heath, but he’s still a baby, so I won’t know how much I like him until he starts to talk.  However, he already has his brother’s taste in Halloween ‘stumes….

What…a tadpole.

Wondering what Hayden is going to be this year?  Jen and I have discussed pitching him the idea to go as  a Jersey Shore cast member.  We just can’t decide between The Situation or DJ Pauly D and we only have 246 days to figure it out.  Let the countdown begin.

Dewey Does Daycare…and Dating

In case you didn’t know, my dog Dewey has quite the reputation around town.  He rang in Labor Day weekend last year by getting kicked out of Dog Days Buckhead for being a racist (read here).  To my relief, Dog Days gave him a second chance at their larger location in Chamblee, but after a 4-hour-trial period, they decided he was not only racist, but also had a Napoleon complex and kicked him out for good (read here).  It appeared that Dewey had…Kanye West Syndrome.

As any mother would be, I was in denial that my son was truly prejudiced to dogs with darker fur and larger builds than he, but the thought always lingered in my mind.  Could it be?  Could Dewey really be a white (and tan) canine supremacist? It was difficult to fathom.

After we were banned from Dog Days, we gave Barking Hound Village a try and had no problems whatsoever, probably due to BHV’s policy of placing dogs in smaller playgroups based on size and temperament and giving them rest periods throughout the day.  Dog Days: maybe you should take notes.  Oops, there I go digressing!  Anyway, while Dewey was fine at BHV, I was just waiting for the day when I would get the “Dewey attacked a big black Lab” phone call and be banned from yet another Atlanta canine establishment.  But, it never came.  Could his racism have subsided or disappeared completely?, I thought.  My parenting MUST be working.

Then, I heard about Greendog.  The W Hotel of dog facilities: clean, chic and designed perfectly for its guests’ comfort. After seeing the handcrafted “eco-dens” that the dogs sleep in, I was even worried that Dewey might spit on his own sleeping quarters at home in disgust.  After my first tour, I knew we’d never go anywhere else but Greendog (provided they didn’t kick us out).  Dewey became a regular there and even created his own Dogtourage.


That’s right.  It’s Johnny Drama, Vinny Chase, Eric, and Turtle bringing up the rear, about to hit the town.  And, by “town,” I obviously mean the water bowl.

I was glad Dewey had a clique, but I knew he’d be a lot happier if he could just find a bitch he really cared about.

And, then….like an angel sent from heaven…Praia came along.  When Dewey met Praia, it was love at first sight.  The way they interacted was like nothing that I (and Dewey’s aunts at Greendog) had ever seen.  When I brought him home from his first day of playing with her, I could feel his excitement of having met the love of his life (even though I don’t know EXACTLY how that feels).

Praia turned Dewey’s world upside down and shattered all the previous stereotypes about him. Because, guess what……

Praia is black.

Dewey_Praia 1

Suck on that, Dog Days.  Praia is black AND beautiful AND the same kind of dog as the Obama’s have.  She’s as A-list as they come.  She may as well be Halle Berry, who coincidentally……dates a white guy.

Here are the lovers on their second date at Greendog, already holding paws:

Dewey_Praia 2

Dewey doesn’t waste any time.  I’ve taught him well.

So, there you have it.   Dewey is NOT a racist; in fact, he’s quite the opposite.

Oh, and for those of you with female dogs:  all the members of Dewey’s Dogtourage are still single.  I’m just sayin; Greendog knows how to make magic happen.

The Graduation Situation

My brother, Matt, graduated from the University of Delaware this past Saturday.  It was an exciting day and it was great to be surrounded by family and friends (despite my raging hangover during the 10:30 a.m. ceremony).  It was also a special day for the folks in attendance as they got to catch a glimpse of the largest graduation gown ever created.  But there was just ONE thing that made the day incomplete.  Something we all had the highest hopes for did NOT happen and it was a huge disappointment.  Which brought back memories of my own disappointing graduation ceremony from Clemson in May 2005.

To the utter disbelief of most people, I was a straight-A student in college.  Please spare me the lame-ass “So, what was your  major?  Drinking?” jokes.  I graduated Summa Cum Laude and my family and I couldn’t wait for me to walk across the stage at graduation and hear “Ashley Joy Hesseltine, Summa Cum Laude” be announced throughout Littlejohn Coliseum.  I was especially pumped for people to watch me walk across the stage and think, “THAT hot mess is SUMMA Cum Laude!?”  Yup, kids, that’s right.  The girl you’ve seen taking shots at (read: trying to dance on) the bar and making scenes at the pizza place afterward has a GPA over 3.9.  Bladow.

I received my namecard before the ceremony, but I was so hungover that my mind didn’t register what it was for.  I got to my seat, probably actually DID wonder for a moment what the card was for, but then put it under my chair and forgot about it.  Shortly after, I seriously thought I was going to pass out.  I texted my brother warning him that if I didn’t get some water soon, I was going to have to do something drastic.  I was eyeing all the exit doors, thinking about which one could have a water fountain behind it and how I could make it there without making a scene.  Every time we had to stand for something, the room spun.  I knew the cleancut Southern-looking girl next to me could probably smell the liquor seeping out of my pores.  But, somehow, as my name got closer to being called, I perked up and I made it to the stage without hitting the floor.

I got up to the stage, smoothed down my gown and put on a smile, as an official-looking lady asked for my namecard.  My what?, I thought.  Then, it hit me.  F*ck. I was supposed to bring that piece of paper up here with me. “I don’t have it,” I said.  The lady looked panicked.  And now…I was holding the line up.  I think I blacked out in that moment, as everyone starting making moves around me.  Suddenly, there was a diploma in my hands and the person reading the names promptly snatched it from me, opened it up and quickly read my name aloud.  “Ashley Joy Hesseltine.”  Then, silence.  No “Summa Cum Laude.”  It took me a minute to realize that I didn’t hear what I was expecting.  Four years of hard work and I didn’t even get effing recognized!  I knew my family would be pissed, especially since they were videotaping the ceremony.  I bet there were people in the crowd thinking, “Wow, she must have just barely graduated.”  My mind wandered to the guy I had just started hanging out with, who was also graduating that day.  Had he told his parents about me?  Did they know my name?  Do they now think that I was just an average student, not even a “Cum Laude” grad?! Just for the record, I now realize that they had no idea who I was at that time….or for a long time after that, for that matter.

Thankfully, my family wasn’t really upset (and if they were, they hid it well).  Actually, they got a kick out the fact that I didn’t know what my namecard was for.  Which brings me back to my original point.  How in the world…did I get straight A’s?

Flash forward to Matt’s graduation 4.5 years later.  I made sure to remind him to bring his namecard up.  Although, I doubt anyone (except for me) needs that reminder.  But, he sent me a picture message of his card anyway to put me at ease.


That’s right.  Just trying to bring a little guido touch to graduation.   (NOTE:  If you have no idea what “The Situation” is and are not understanding this blog right now, then I suggest you do some Googling.)  Matt’s friend, Herrman (that’s his last name, but yes, it would be a lot funnier if it was his first), was sitting next to me and texting with their other friend, Corey, who was graduating as well.  Apparently, Corey listed “The Situation” as his middle name, too, and he was up first.  We waited in anticipation as Corey neared the stage, I turned on my FLIP video, and they announced his name.  “Corey”….slight pause….”Nicholson.”  Ugh. What….a bummer.  But, I had hope for Matt.  I had the solution.

I immediately BBM’d Matt:  “Just write “Situation.”  No “the” or they won’t read it.” 

He responded:  “Ok.  I wrote out a whole new card so it looks great and legit.” 

I….am a genius.

Matt is in line to walk, and we’re waiting with bated breath.  If this goes down the way it should…my life will be complete, I thought.  He gets up to the stage, we all lean forward in anticipation, FLIP goes on again….and his name gets read over the speakers.  “Matthew”….pause….”Hesseltine.”

F*CK! I.  Was. Pissed.  Someone’s name COULD be “Situation!”  I have heard a LOT stupider names.  My mom once had a girl in school named “Female.”  My BFF Cory is a high school teacher and has had kids in her class named “Purple” and “Santa.”  This was total bullshit.

That name-reader MUST be a “Jersey Shore” watcher.  Or, with the show’s recent craze, she got a “Do Not Read” list with “Situation” on it.  Either way, she put a damper on our morning.

He should have just went with “Snooki.”

Stupidest Thing I’ve Ever Done: The Music Video

You may remember that I reported my car stolen (police report and everything) in November, only to realize that I just misplaced it while I was out drinking one night.  If you haven’t read that post, then stop right now and read here.  This “mishap” has, well, defined me ever since.  I’m officially “the girl who lost her car.”  My friends still tease me from time to time, but it’s my family that absolutely refuses to let it go.  When my dad said what he was thankful for before Thanksgiving dinner, he said he was thankful I “found” my car.  My cousins and brother teased me relentlessly over Thanksgiving break, and my aunt and uncle brought it up every chance they got.  I took it in stride, but thought that MAYBE after Thanksgiving, my family would start forgetting about it.  No such luck.

Every year, someone is targeted on Chrismas morning with some highly orchestrated gag gift.  Last year, my parents targeted my Uncle Scott, so I was in on it, but this year, I had no idea who was going to be in the hot seat.  Literally.

After everyone opened presents and started moving into the living room for brunch, my family stopped me in the family room where a huge box had appeared and a swivel chair sat to the right of it.  What….was going on? They motioned me to sit down.  I never could have anticipated what was coming next.  But, I knew I needed to get it on video.

My aunt and uncle whipped out a stack of papers and began passing them out to everyone but me (yes, grandparents included), and announced that the song they were about to sing will be to the tune of “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer.”  Shoot…me…now.

Here’s the entire video:  the serenade I received for Christmas along with a one-of-a-kinda “gift” I will treasure forever.   I may even insure it.  The lyrics are also below if you would like to sing along.

Ashley the Tipsy Writer
Sung to the tune of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

Good Ashley & Jeff, good Lindsay & Jack
Good Ashli & Scott, good Ali & Matt
But do you recall…. the most infamous tribe member of all?

Ashley the Tipsy writer
Started a very witty blog,
And if you ever read it
You’d know ‘bout Dewey the dog.

Most of the other entries
Refer to booze and champagne.
You’ll always find dear Ashley
Playing diff’rent drinking games.

Then one ‘foggy’ late fall night
Ashley lost her car.
Wasn’t this the third damn time?!
Surely this must be a crime!

Then both her parents freaked out
As they shouted out with alarm -
“Ashley, you Tipsy Writer
Stay sober or you’ll come to harm!”

So, the old saying rings true.  There really is NO place like home for the holidays.  Interpret how you like.

A Brush for a Bald Man

Every year, my brother, Matt, and I have to ask my mom what to get for my grandmother (Gram) and our step-grandfather, Davey, for Christmas.  She talks to them more than we do and always keeps notes of what they might need so she can let us know when it comes time for holiday shopping…which is usually at the last minute.  I was up in Delaware for the holidays and Matt, Cory (my BFF) and I were heading down to the beach to finish up some shopping so we hit Mom up to see what Gram and Davey needed.

“Well, Davey asked for a comb and brush set,” she said matter-of-factly.

I almost spit out my coffee.

“Wait….seriously?” I asked.  “Davey has like, 7 hairs on his head…if that.  Are you sure it’s not GRAM who needs the comb and brush?”

She informed me that she thought it was strange at first, too, so she confirmed with Gram, and yes, the comb and brush set was in fact one of the items on Davey’s wish list. W….TF. I assured her that Matt and I were on the job…even though we weren’t quite sure of the purpose.

Below is a photo of Gram and Davey.  They are the cutest couple and I love them to death, but I just have to poke a little fun at the fact that a man with Davey’s lack of locks could be asking for a comb AND a brush for Christmas.  Not just a comb.  Not just a brush.  A. Whole. Set.


I mean, that’s like me asking for a Double D bra for Christmas.  It just doesn’t make sense.

We finished up most of our shopping at the beach and were headed back home when Matt swung into the CVS for our last purchase.  I figured I better get it on camera as I probably wouldn’t ever shop for a comb and brush set for a bald man ever again.

I considered taping Davey when he opened his gift on Christmas morning, but decided to keep my family exploitation at a minimum for the holidays.  My mom did come up to me later and told me that Gram told her he really liked his comb and brush set.  All I can say is more power to him – maybe his optimism will grow him a full head of hair.  As a matter of fact, I might adopt this way of thinking and go buy myself a pair size 2 jeans.

Snuggie Snafu

Last night, I went to PetSmart to pick up Dewey’s food and absolutely COULD NOT resist the Dog Snuggie….. RIGHT there on the end of the food aisle.  Very sneaky of them.  I debated back and forth on whether or not I thought it would fit him, but the picture on the box showed a pretty large Collie wearing it, so I thought we’d be all good.  I picked up a blue one for him and a pink one for my roommate’s boxer….who is a boy.  I’m sorry, but if I got them both blue, we would get them mixed up, and I just couldn’t have that.  I knew Dewey wouldn’t want to be caught dead in someone else’s Snuggie.

Later in the evening, I went out with a few girls to try out the new Lenox Square Grill.  Let’s just say we were thoroughly impressed – it’s a sweet location, great atmosphere and the best food and drink prices in town, hands down.  We had a few bottles of decent Pinot Noir, each of which were only $21.  I.  Know.  Crazy cheap.  But, this also caused us to drink more than we normally would on a random Tuesday night.  PLUS, we got a tour of the place and the bartender in the “VIP” bar served us up a round of Pink Panty Pulldowns.  His selection. What…a charmer.

When I got home, I thought this would be the PERFECT time for Dewey to try on his Snuggie.  So, I excitedly pulled it out, put it on him, and….drumroll please…. it was too small.  It was so tight on him, it may as well have been an Affliction tee.  I couldn’t have my dog looking like an extra in “Jersey Shore,” so I un-velcroed it, stuffed it back in the box, and planned to take it back first thing in the morning and explain the situation.  Of course, I checked Facebook that night and EVEN wrote on someone’s wall (our very own Peach Buzz editor, Jennifer Brett, to be exact)  in response to her post about wanting a Dog Snuggie:

Jennifer. Funny you should post this…bought Dewey a Snuggie TONIGHT. And……it was too small. The package features a LARGE Collie wearing it and also says it’s large enough for a Lab. Most Labs I know are bigger than Dewey. Total. BS. Taking it back tomorrow. Ok, I’m finished now.

What…a Facebook outburst.

This morning, I woke up and made sure my roommate saw her dog’s Snuggie under our Christmas tree.  Just call me Santa.  Then, of course, I proceeded to go on my rant about Dewey’s Snuggie being too small for him…when it came to me.  I MAY have just put it on backwards.  So, I tried it on the opposite way…and it fit.  Like. A. Glove.


Whooooopsiiiieeeee.  I’m going to blame this one on the Pink Panty Pulldown.

So, now we know that you should not drive or operate heavy machinery under the influence, but you should also not try to put a Snuggie on your dog.  Lesson.  Learned.