Unknown's avatar

About simplygiselle

I am at the point in my life where I am just trying to figure it all out. Fun vs responsibility, fitness vs relaxation, water vs wine, what the hell do I want to be when I grow up... it's all too overwhelming

Auto paintball?

paintball

I have played paintball and apparently I played the more painful but lame version because it had nothing to do with shooting at cars as they drove by. I walked away with welts and bruises that I was proud to show off for about a week.

My little Spicegurl didn’t sign up for a paintball session, she didn’t deserve this harassment! She was so happy this day; brand new brakes, oil change, soapy bath, and her only crime was to be driving in the wrong neighborhood (clearly all my fault and the guilt that goes with it).

How does this make some cowardly punk feel good? You don’t get to see my pissed off face when I finally notice the hit (that would at least give a person some satisfaction and a quick laugh). You don’t get to see me spend money on paint remover praying that it only takes off the paintball paint and not ruin the finish. You hit me and I drove off unknowingly. Big deal. Boring.

If you are such a great shot on a moving target with a crappy gun, do something courageous and useful, join the military or police. But you won’t. You will hide behind your laziness, your weakness, and never actually LIVE life, but just e x i s t for many years. Too bad for you; you are missing out on some great fun!

Sand, Seaweed, and Sun

NewportBeachSun

Goose and I played hooky last week to take in, what the weather reporters called, the last hot day of the year (although I can’t confirm they were correct in saying the ‘last’ I can definitely say they were right about ‘hot’ – and it’s about time they were right about one forecast this year). How better to enjoy this last grasp at summer than a day at Newport beach?!

I wish I could say something exciting happened; a shark/whale sighting, someone doing cartwheels down the beach, Navy SEALS storming the beach, but alas, just a gorgeous day soaking in the sun, getting my fix of Flo’s fried clams and a cold beer and hanging with my kickass daughter… YES!

How YOU doin’ ?

new glasses for me

Midlife crisis in 3…2…1…which means I have to live to 100, otherwise I am late for my own midlife crisis and I hate being late for anything!

Change jobs, check. Cut off all my hair, check. Circa late 1980 aviator sunglasses, check. Hmm what’s next? Love the Mini, so sports car is out. Suggestions?

Although I am more than likely experiencing a midlife crisis, this is ‘technically’ not an Adventure in the Mini category. Goose and I took the train to a 2-hr harbor ride on a three mast schooner and the weather could not have been more perfect. A relaxing sail though Boston Harbor, meeting new people, sharing many laughs, and enjoying each other’s company was an exceptional way to spend one of the last remaining summer days in New England. The memories will last forever and that is what it is all about. Making memories with the ones you love.

side schooner sailSummer is all about beach, boating, and warmth, but my favorite season is autumn – so only a few more weeks and its off to Salem for some w i c k e d fun!

50 Ways to Give the Finger: #9 – The Casual Drive-By Finger

This is now incorporated into the DMV guidebook in ‘driving etiquette’. The drive-by finger is must, otherwise you will be eaten alive as ‘prey’ and left for road kill.

notesfromthebathroomfloor's avatarNOTES FROM THE BATHROOM FLOOR

The Casual Drive-By Finger This variant of the I Don’t Even Have Time For This Finger is best delivered with a wry smile. Here’s your opportunity to incorporate the power of the automobile into a dismissive Fuck You. The finger is held steady from the driver’s side window as you give the horn a couple of soft toots for emphasis.

What the Casual Drive-By Finger communicates to the recipient: I’ve got better places to go and don’t care to spend another moment in the vicinity of your sorry ass. Hope you have a nice day choking on my dust, fucker!

When to use it: Provided you are confident that the recipient is unable to catch you (either because he/she is stuck in traffic or traveling on foot) , and you’re in your car and have a clear path with steady terrain in front of you, the Casual Drive-By Finger is all yours to administer at will…

View original post 10 more words

Call me Quick Draw McGraw!

shootingrange

This is why I don’t own a gun. A decent shot and a short fuse doesn’t mix well and I don’t have the time or money to get bailed out.

It’s nice to see that I haven’t ‘lost it’ as shooting is a perishable skill. The far left was the practice sheet. I was aiming for the head (aim small miss small is what I was thinking). Then I figured why not go for the center mass.

I had never used a hand gun to shoot with so the .45 felt like a small cannon in my hand. The lane distance maxes out at 25 yards which was a bit disappointing but the experience was very cool. Many thanks to F-Troop’s Vanderbilt for his patience and a great idea!

Next time, I am using the Zombie sheet (and not the outline figure as shown above) as I don’t want their rotting flesh and goo to distract me when it’s ‘go time’!

Roadside attraction creepiness: South Dakota

This quite possibly could be a minotaur still protecting his labyrinth. If you look closely there are minions protecting him as well… it just made the list of ‘must sees’ to get to the truth!

psychologistmimi's avatarpsychologistmimi

Roadside attraction creepiness: South Dakota

IMG_4917

One of the best aspects of cross-country road trips are the signs, billboards and random artifacts you come across. In the United States you can come across a lot of kitsch.  There is even a book and now website about roadside America. Thus, whenever I go on a road trip, which is quite frequent, I bring my camera and am ready to snap away. Just last month, I took my 5th cross-country road trip across the US. Instead of I-80 we took I-90 for a change in scenery.  And boy it was worth it!  South Dakota, in particular, provided me with tons to photograph. I snapped away close to 1000 photos across the 300 odd miles it takes to get across South Dakota.

As we were speeding away (a particularly good part of traveling on I-90 up north) we came across a giant “bull…

View original post 189 more words

Ambitchous….

poster

There is a fine line between a woman ‘standing up for herself’ and being a ‘bitch’. I have yet to find that line but I am sure it exists; more often than not, I get the ‘bitch’ label. For those of you that have said it to my face (on many occasions), you can agree that my response has always been, and will always be: stop kissing up.

I have to say that my super-cranky reaction to a situation is just that; a reaction. I am by no means searching out scenarios in which to wield my highly explosive intolerance for stupidity.

The first (and most repetitive interaction) typically involves me waiting in line and getting cut off, as though I have hit my ‘stealth button’ and instantly became invisible. The millisecond response from me is always an unwaivering, ‘are you kidding me?!”  For some reason that seems to startle the offender and wakes them up to the fact that they are no longer on their lonely planet of “I” and must abide by the simple rules of society and it’s strongly recommended guidelines of ‘wait your friggin turn’.

There are times where adults are not pointing out their children’s misbehaving and I have to take things into my own hands. Example: at a college open house for Goose, potential students (17-18 yrs) and their parents are sitting in an amphitheater getting the background on the school and what they offer, finances, etc. and the three young miscreants with their mother were talking loudly and laughing throughout the whole seminar. It was not until the continuously full-blown kicking of my chair, did I spin my head faster than Regan from the Exorcist, and gave my, “are you kidding me??!!” to which the young men horrified, stood up and said they would wait outside. Good call because next comes the pea soup vomit while talking in tongues and no one wants that.

Other times, a good friend needs to have that certain someone on their side, that friend with a bit more bravado then they do. So… while in a Chinese restaurant with my friend (we will call her Shrink because she is one) and her boyfriend were sitting at a crowded bar, I hear a woman complaining to her boyfriend that Shrink is being loud and obnoxious. Really? We are sitting three people away in a packed bar and the only voice you can hear is Shrink laughing and telling stories. Hold the phone and call Oscar Goldman because a new Jaime Sommers is in town! (that’s a late 70’s reference for you kiddos) but I digress. I walked over to her and called her out on it, citing the fact that it’s a loud bar and there is no way she should be calling my friend names without provocation. As she turned to her boyfriend and started to curse about me, I kindly noted that I was not using profanity in any way and name calling wasn’t necessary… just apologize to my friend. The boyfriend stood up (a good 6 inches taller than me) and became aggressive to which I stood my ground and said that he was not part of the conversation, I was talking to his foul mouthed girlfriend. He then called me a bitch (yes I had to say, stop kissing up, it’s a natural reaction) and then he poked me in the shoulder a few times. I nicely reminded him that unwanted poking is considered assault and that seemed to warrant him screaming me a few other choice words but stopped the poking. No better way to show your pea-sized brain than to scream profanities; boring, yawn, over it.

So you see, I have been mislabeled and misunderstood my whole life. I will not be walked on or overlooked. I demand as much space in this world as the big jerks that seem to be taking over.

(P.S. if you know to whom I owe credit for this awesome intro picture please let me know!)

The ‘burbs meet concrete jungle

Habitat67a

A very interesting combination for its residents; the ‘burbs and its beautiful flowers, shrubbery, terraces, and fresh air meets the concrete jungle of city living – Habitat 67.

Habitat 67 – I had never heard of it until the Goose and I took a last minute road trip in the Mini this weekend to Montréal (her suggestion of course). The World’s Fair, held in Montréal in 1967 prompted a McGill architectural student to conceive this housing complex. Currently, 146 residences sit on a peninsula (of sorts) in the St. Lawrence River, jutting out from the Old Montréal port.

The “last minute unscheduled trip” lives in the world of mystery – waking up in another country after a few hours’ drive is something I don’t think I would ever get used to but would love to do on a weekly basis. We did cram quite a bit of walking, eating, and history into a just a day, but where are all my pictures?!! Looks like I need to go back sooner than later…. (YES!!)