A collection of my more humorous adventures.
I am an on again off again smoker. Quitting for good is the hardest thing I’ve ever attempted. My problem is I actually enjoy it. I will get there. Brad Stine is one of my favorite comics of all time. He tells the truth in such a humorous way that it is difficult to be offended. I needed the laugh.
Video courtesy of THE GRABLE GROUP.
Just like good shoes, a good black dress and a lipstick that lasts all day, I believe every woman should have at least one cowboy in their lives, if for no other reason than to bring color to their cheeks during a cold winter.
I once saw a cowboy ride through a field where we were having a bon fire, swoop down and grab my girlfriend by the waist, put her on his horse and ride off with her. Talk about being swept off your feet.
Hic.
She married him.
Cowboys open doors, tip hats, kill snakes with their bare hands (I’ve seen them do it) and look really great leaned up against a fence post.
Walk past a cowboy and he will look you in the eyes, tip his hat and offer a greeting so sweet it’ll make you blush.
“Hello Darlin.”
“Hic”
“Ma’am”
“Hic”
You will never EVER hear a cowboy say “sup?”
I can handle hello, or hi, or even hey. Tip your hat and say ma’am or call me darlin and I’ll blush and start hiccuping, which is really just a cover for giggling if you want to know the truth. It’s embarrassing really. I try not to react and yet I can’t help myself. Cowboys are just too stinkin charming. Fortunately for me, I married a city boy from Chicago before I met my first cowboy. Good thing too otherwise I’d be living on a ranch in the middle of nowhere feeding chickens.
Have you ever met a real cowboy?
Now, I’m not talking about Clint Eastwood or John Wayne. Great men that they are.
No, Hollywood’s version of cowboy doesn’t even come close.
I’m talking
boots,
spurs,
flannel shirt,
hat,
charm,
horse riding,
cattle driving,
confidence and a swagger all their own
drive a woman to distraction
C-O-W-B-O-Y.
They work hard, play hard and love God and country like none other. They are loyal to a fault and will protect their family with their lives if they need to and work themselves to death in order to provide a home. I’m talking about the Marlboro Man live version.
Real cowboys make a woman lose all common sense. If you don’t believe me ask Ree Drummond. She married a cowboy and I don’t blame her one iota.
If you are from the north and have never run into such charm before I offer one piece of advice. When a cowboy tips his hat and says “Hello Darlin'” it is perfectly acceptable to look him in the eye, smile, and say “Hi Cowboy.” Just make sure you keep walking unless you want to live on ranch cooking beans and cornbread for the rest of your life.
Granted, if you are at a bon fire with your girlfriends and some cowboy (literally) sweeps you off your feet, by all means ride into the sunset with him. You won’t regret it.
I hope all of you are holding up through this heat wave that has crossed America these last few weeks. It’s so hot in Oklahoma, my hot flashes feel like cold showers. My dogs even looked at the squirrel this morning and said, “not today.” It’s just that hot.
Why not pour yourself a refreshing glass of sweet tea and set a spell while I ponder what is really causing this heat wave.
I know everyone is blaming global warming for our present circumstances. I don’t. While it’s obvious from the heat that hell hasn’t frozen over and my Cubbies aren’t going to win the World Series this year, (although rumor has it the Eagles are touring again) I have my own theory about the heat wave.
I believe We’ve hit the eye candy trifecta and our nation is on full cougar alert. You don’t believe me? Check out my count down to the top three causes of our heat wave.
3. Magic Mike hits the big screen. Woman across the country are seeking solace from the heat and flocking to theaters everywhere hoping to see Channing Tatum sell out his dignity by taking it off. The movie promises fun, and delivers a punch that no one sees coming. While this may look like cotton candy with all it’s sugary goodness, Channing has something to say about the women who treat men like meat. Much like a sugar rush that wears off too soon, expect a slap in the face with that lap dance. He should have been a dentist. The overall message? Too much sugar causes cavities. Whether temps are rising over the eye-candy or the bait and switch has yet to be determined.
2 Kate and Tom Cruise split. Okay let’s face it, we all saw this coming and while some of us are happy for Kate (yours truly included) there is still a long line of women who crave the fun-filled lollipop triple dipped in psycho that is Tom Cruise. Thus earning him slot number two in my summer trifecta.
1. the number one cause for America’s heat wave Johnny Depp returns to America as a single man. I blame this event for single-handedly raising temps nation wide. Women world-wide are singing the hallelujah chorus. The one man who would rather sit in a dark room than expose himself as a sex symbol, who thinks it too weird to think of himself as a celebrity and who is by far and large the most brilliant actor in Hollywood today is single. Oh what a Midnight Summer’s Dream. Have mercy.
While I’m sitting here on my front porch practicing slides, pull offs, and hammer notes on my banjo, I hope y’all are finding a way to stay cool.
Have a great weekend. And remember you are awesome and nobody can take that away from you.
My two dogs found a baby possum this morning.
I forgot they like to play dead and tried to pick it up.
If you need me, I’m the looney screaming from the roof of my back porch.
All Rights Reserved: Deana O’Hara, CRC Publishing 2014
I had a chance to meet one of my favorite Christian singers a few years back, but I was too busy evangelizing one of the volunteers and I missed the meet and greet.
You see, I had taken my family to see this man perform at a local church and when I walked in with my boys a gentlemen stepped in front of me and shoved a flier in my hands. I read it when I sat down and discovered it was an invitation to this singer’s senior citizens cruise later that fall. I didn’t make anything of it, figuring he had to give them to everyone. I was after all only 43 at the time.
Then my husband arrived. He tried to take a flier out of this man’s hand and do you know he said?
“I’m sorry sir, these fliers are for senior citizens only and you don’t look old enough.”
Have you ever seen a Southern woman throw a wall-eyed hissy with a red rubber tail? Something like that will turn even the deepest of atheists in to a man of prayer. I can guarantee you if that man wasn’t saved before he gave me the flier, he is now.
Be Blessed Y’all.
I have given up all hope of convincing people I really am sane.
I have two stories requested the most, Fisher’s Of Men, and this one.
And I wonder why people think I’m neurotic.
I would rather have a root canal than go to the gynecologist:
Not that I don’t like my doctors I do. I just don’t like being there. I am a social bug, yes. A social bug who likes to stay fully dressed. I’d rather host one huge barbecue in my back yard, have them all come over, serve beer and brats and call it good until next year.
I realize I should put on my big girl panties and deal with it, and I would if they let me keep them on, but they don’t. Let’s face it, we will burn our bras in public, let our bra straps show in the summer, even throw our panties on stage at a rock concert, but the minute we undress in the doctor’s office we hide our underwear. Why? Because we want to keep that Victoria a secret, that’s why.
I do not know a living soul who wakes up and says “oh boy I get to go for my Pap Smear (or colonoscopy or mammogram) today. Hurray!” No one in their right mind thinks that. To make matters worse, I am a redhead and I blush when people say hello, add naked to the equation and I look like I fell asleep in a tanning bed. Even if the doctor are brilliant, the office is clean and efficient and the staff is super nice, we’d still rather be elsewhere. This is the one place where wham-bam-thank you ma’am could be deemed acceptable. Unless of course something is wrong and we wish to dialog. Then we want them to listen and take their time.
Some doctors like to converse during exams. It’s their way of gauging our emotional state as well as trying to put us at ease; only it doesn’t work does it? Whilst I am normally fond of warm, intelligent conversation, their conversational style can seriously mess with my dis-associative groove. I’d rather close my eyes and run my to do list through my brain than make eye contact while pretending I can follow our conversation.
And yet, we talk. Or rather they talk. I ramble incessantly about God knows what. My neurosis factor increases exponentially with the realization that well… I am at my gynecologists office. My brain is so deep in denial that when they ask which doctor I am seeing, I can never remember his name.
To call me an introvert would be a kindness.
To be expected to carry on a full conversation with a doctor, complete with eye contact, while sitting naked on a table, holding my gown closed with my hands, needs more Valium than their office is willing to provide. Personally, I am all for sedation gynecology. Knock me out and wake me when it’s over. It’s not like it’s a new thing my dentist offers sedation dentistry, it could happen.
Left without the comfort of clothing, or drugs, I grab the only shield I can reach – my gift of sarcasm.
They’ve added a new trick to their trade by the way — a two for one deal really, you can now get checked for cervical cancer and colon cancer all in one visit. REALLY? Now I know why my dogs hate going to the vet.
Not only are the new tests rude, some doctors talk more during our exams than our husbands do during sex. Why can’t they all be Woody Allen?
Some days going to the doctor is more than a girl can handle. Granted after dealing with me, I’m pretty sure it’s my doctors who need Valium.
Have a great week everyone and remember you are amazing! Nobody can take that away from you.
While at the movies yesterday we saw the poster for The Avengers.
I told my husband I really want to see that movie.
He looked at the poster, and then asked why I wanted to see it.
I said “The story line of course. “
He smiled and said
“That’s like a man saying he reads playboy just for the articles. Just sayin.”
Man I learn something new every day. Apparently 4/20 is national pot day. I did not know that. In honor of today, I thought I’d post some photos of my favorite pots. Enjoy.
My other favorite pots include but are not limited to:
And let us not forget the most coveted pot of all:
“You look a lot younger on your profile picture than in real life.”
Thank you?
What kind of statement is that? I mean unless it’s retro week or something, I do keep my profile pics up-to-date. I tell people I have a 21-year-old and a 18-year-old. Unless I gave birth pre-puberty, I would think my age is self apparent. Apparently not to some. I do consider the source. The person in question was a 20 something comic who’d not yet met me in person and chose to believe I was younger because I was just starting out in comedy at the time.
Fast forward two years and add a lot more grey hair to the equation and I start believing in better living through chemistry. Clairol chemistry to be exact. Looking in the mirror while at the lake on April 1, I see more grey hair than I do red and the first thing that pops into my mind is, “Oh my gosh, I cannot meet John Branyan looking like this! I have to fix this, now.”
I packed my bags and left my family in the proverbial dust as I raced home to color my hair.
I didn’t have a lot of time. It was already 2 pm and the doors opened at 6 for the comedy concert.
I hit the drug store, bought a new shade of red that promised to cover the grey in 25 minutes and headed home.
I parted, combed, colored, covered and waited for Clairol to work her magic. The end result was splendid in my opinion. By the time the boys got home from the lake, I was sporting my new do. I even curled my hair and put on make up – just to meet John. It was almost 4:30 by time the guys made it home. We rushed out the door to go stand in line for good seats.
The show was wonderful.
Meeting John Branyan and Tim Hawkins (both fellow CCA Comics) afterwards was a huge treat.
John was gracious and kind and said he’s looking forward to seeing me again in Nashville in June at our conference.
Watching Tim lay his head on the table when my son asked him to autograph his butt was truly priceless.
None of that however compares to 24 hours later, at my son’s soccer game when I turn to my husband and ask, “Is it me or are people looking at me funny?”
“They aren’t looking at you funny, they are just smiling.”
“Why are they smiling?”
He is in the danger zone and he knows it. Pausing for wisdom – or an earthquake to eat him whole – whichever comes first, he finally fesses up.
“Well, I’m curious. Did you mean to only color the front of your hair?”
“WHAT?”
“I mean it looks great, it’s just that you missed the entire back of your head, that’s all.”
NICE.
I called my girlfriend Michele, who was also at the concert to ask her if she noticed. She did. She thought I did it on purpose and didn’t say anything.
I let her live because in all fairness, we were already there – what was anyone going to do? Still – I went out in public looking like a middle-aged punk rock, 80’s flash back wanna be with big hair and NO ONE TOLD ME!
Alright ladies and gents. Your turn. While I’m shampooing with Prell to strip this back out and try again, I’d love to hear about your fashion catastrophes.
Where are you in life right now? Are you Fully Alive or semi-conscious? Or are you where I was nine years ago – mostly dead?
Some of you may wonder, what in heaven’s name would prompt a 46-year-old women to start riding a bicycle, do stand up, audition for movies, and write a book. That’s easy. It isn’t a midlife crisis.
These changes in my life are brought to you by Grief. Failure. and Grace.
Never in my wildest imagination did I think God would have more in store for me than PTA, Bible Study and Carpool. There was a time when my life could be described as super busy and super disconnected, whether I wanted to admit that or not. Fortunately for me, I’ve met wonderful people over the last nine years – Ken Davis is such a person.
I wanted to learn how the be a better teacher and speaker. Pursuant to those goals, I signed up for Ken’s classes on communication and performance management. Through his stories, blogs, and classes he has shared this journey to becoming Fully Alive with all of us, step by step and mile by mile. I received far more than I bargained for when I went to his seminars.
Before she passed away last fall, my friend Tiffany used to say that between her anxiety and control issues, she was pretty much a hot mess of crazy. I can relate. Hanging with comedians has changed me in great ways. Instead of just learning a craft, I’m learning how to lighten up and live Fully Alive. I owe these men and women a lot.
Fully Alive is Ken’s newest comedy DVD. This is a movie you can watch with your friends and family. It is hilarious, inspirational, life changing and not to be missed by anyone.
Edited: April , 2012 – while the Movie Fully Alive was a special showing only on March 22 and 23 – see kendavis.com to find out more about this wonderful DVD.
Deana O'Hara - Speaker, Comedian, Writer 