....Really?

I mean, I get it but... really? Let's hear the worst jokes you could possibly drop at an airport security checkpoint. I will award a wonderful prize to the best one... bring it on fair bloggers

R.I.P. Emanuel

I was reminded by my little sister Reaghan a few weeks of one of the greatest speeches of all time. This of course was my speech I presented to my Oral Communication class years ago at Tidewater Community College. Our assignment was to deliver a 3-5 min speech about a life changing event that happened to us. Well if you know me you also know that I enjoy a good chuckle... or two... sometimes lots of chuckles all in a row. That's right, one right after the other. Anyway, the night before the speech was to be given I thought of a life changing event that might have taken place in real life... if I grew up in West Virginia with an Uncle named Buck who gave me a shotgun for my birthday... Here's how my speech went:

" Good morning everyone. My name is Rebekah Rickards. I appreciate the opportunity to share this very sensitive and yet LIFE CHANGING experience." I was sure to lock eyes with my instructor who was already intrigued by the confidence of my delivery. "The truth is I owe my life to one very special individual. I wouldn't be standing before you fine people today if it weren't for a Mallard named Emanuel"... "Allow me to take you back five years ago to my hometown; Chissleville, West Virginia on my 14th birthday. My Uncle Buck handed me a long, lumpy gift wrapped in a musty flannel blanket. The stray strands of hay and burrs were a unique alternative to the traditional glossy birthday bow. None the less I unravelled the blanket to discover a shotgun. "Uh... Uncle Buck.... you really probably shouldn't have... is this for predators?" My dear uncle replied with a slight whistle as air escaped from his gap toothed grin.... "SSSSSchweety you can shoot yourself a predator if you like, but ima take you deer huntin with that there shooting gun." Great. I managed to grow up in the stone-wash jean knee-staining, red clay hills of West Virginia for 14 years without shooting anything. "Wera headin out tomorra" he said. Uncle Buck is one of those guys that seem to sweat for no reason. You know the type. You could be standing half naked in an ice cream parlor and he would still be beading up. I knew arguing wouldn't change anything. "OK Uncle Buck... sounds like a plan"

<4:00 am> I could hear the rusty pickup truck barreling down our dirt driveway. You know its funny how vehicles seem to be an extension of the owner. This was definitely the case for Buck. It too had an unfortunate grill... parts missing. It would sputter and spit oil, again for no reason, just sitting in front of my house... even the horn seemed to stutter like Uncle Buck. I got in the truck and we were off... I endured five hours and 10 different renditions of "She'll be Comin Round the Mountain." "She'll wont be coming 'Round the mountain." (which really does not make sense) "She'll Be Eatin Shicken and 'Dumplins" (Apparently you need both of your front teeth to make the "Ch--" sound)... and well, seven other versions... all the same tune. I seriously considered "falling" out the truck about the 3rd time, decided against it after seeing the sparkle in Buck's Eye on the 6th time, then I seriously reconsidered "falling" out the truck again on the 10th... thank God he accidentally ran over a skunk which distracted him from any more creative Mountain songs.

We finally arrived. Uncle Buck dug through the back of his pickup and threw all the gear in a camouflage bag. I thought I would just chill in a tree and go through the motions of hunting to appease my Uncle. No such luck. Buck brought us matching camoiuflage jumpsuits with a detachable fanny pack ('fo eckshra ammo"), bright orange trucker hats for safety , a pair of what appeared to be deer antlers, and lastly a mysterious black bottle with a picture of a deer squating in a bush ('fo a last resort"- again in the words of Buck). Whatever. Let's get this over with.

I followed Buck deep into the woods for what seemed like eternity. I might would enjoyed the beauty of nature if it weren't for the dime-sized misquitoes lined up buffet-style around my neck like the golden corral and the stench of dried up Uncle Buck sweat permanantly parked in the fibers of the camouflaged jumpsuit. We reached our destination. It was a giant Oak Tree. I chuckled to myself. I've heard Uncle Buck talk about it... but I thought my Uncle was deranged... you know like maybe the velcroe to his hat was a bit tight... but no. The big Oak Tree; Uncle Bucks secret most sacred hunting spot, indeed, was in the shape of a St. Bernard. God does have a sense of humor... truly a freak of nature. We crawled up the dog tree and sat in silence for an hour. Nothing. Not one deer. Another hour passed... wait... is that... yeah, no. Nothing. I kinda felt sorry for Uncle Buck. He was sooo excited. At one point I could have sworn I little tear drop trickle down his dirty face. But then again who could tell, he was sweating so much. "Well, " he said dissapointedly. "Guess we could head out if you wanna..." Poor guy. Hmm...I think that is sweat? I can't tell. I still felt bad for him. " Unless....." he paused. "You wanna use the secret weapon". Wow. Is this guy for real? " Sure, Uncle Buck. Let's bust it out. Bring on the secret weapon" His faced wrinkled as a melon size grin stretched across his face. He actually had more teeth than I thought. He reached into the camo bag and pulled out the mysterious black bottle and the deer antlers. He then proceeded to duct tape the antlers on my head and douse me with the mysterious yellow liquid from the mysterious black bottle. It smelled god forsaken... like the saliva of Satan himself. "Perfect" Buck said inspecting the position of the antlers now mounted on my head. "All ya gotta do is get down there in the forest and prance 'round with deer like movements... you know some head type bobbin like so... and some hoof pawin stuff like sooo...." He couldn't be more serious as he deomonstrated the deer movements to me. I wanted to laugh, but then I remembered I had antlers taped to my head and thought at this point I might actually look more ridiculous than my Uncle.
I jumped down and did as my Uncle said. I was embarassed at first but to be honest I kinda got into after about 20 minutes of my "deer dance". "At least we're alone in the woods together". I paused for a moment stunned at the words that just left my mouth. "You sure are durin a good job...real natural... you sure you aint done this before?" he asked. "No. Never. " I quickly responded.
Suddenly I heard a lighting bolt pierce the sky. The ground beside me exploded and dirt flew in my face. I froze mid prance. " DUCK! ITS A HUNTER!" I heard my Uncle Buck holler. OH MY GOD. I guess I am a natural... but.. WHAT A HORRBILE DEATH. And it would be my own stupid fault. Here I am in the woods... looking like a deer... smelling like a deer... and yes, even dancing like a deer. It would never hold up in court... that is if I survived. Another crack of the gun sounded.... time slowed down. I could see the bullet coming straight for me.... "DUuuuuuCK!" Uncle yelled. Just then... right on cue the heavens opened and I saw the most angelic creature soaring down from the treetops. A Mallard Duck. It flew right in front of me and took a bullet to the head for me. I stood there stunned. I nearly lost my life. I knelt beside the heroic duck that flew to my rescue and sacrificed his life for mine. "Poor fella... he must have thought Uncle Buck was calling him." I stayed for a few minutes embracing my hero...paw in wing...

In that very spot a statue was built in memory of the Mallard that saved my life. I named him Emauel. If you were to travel to the West Virginian woods of Chisselville, past the tree that looks like a St. Bernard you will see it. A glorious fixture of my eternal gratitude for Emanuel the Mallard Duck.

(Single tear drop down face) I thank you, dear Oral Communication class of Tidewater Community College, for allowing me the opportunity to share with you this life changing event.

Now Thats Awkward

We've all been there. Not necessarily with a french horn. Regardless, I'm speaking of the AWKWARD STAGE. Longer for some, and for an unfortunate few indefinitely present. So lets here it... your best "awkward look" or "phase" you went... or are still coping with.

HaLLowEEn 2007

Pretty much every Halloween I decide to be Mary Katherine Gallagher... you must admit I come pretty close to the real deal... SUPERSTAR!!!

Dear Friends,

Ok so I have had a few requests for me to write a 'Rickards Family Christmas Letter'... so lets have a vote. If I am to take my precious time and invest it into a letter of unnecessary family updates and cyncial humor of the holiday's slap in the face cheer... I want to make sure people would enjoy it... so let me know whats up.

Mother and Son dance... Jacob chose Dean Martin's "A You're Adorable", a childhood favorite of ours because our Mom would sing it to us...


Eva May Morris and her daughter Cam


Jacob and Jo's first dance to Billie Holiday's "The Very Thought of You"

Man and Wife...

"Finally..." - Jacob

To Have and To Hold...

Reed... the cutest...excuse me... most HANDSOME groomsmen.

Siamese Sisters...

I'm sorry to say this photo was taken during communion...

20/20

Mom trying to read the program... this photo is in no way enhanced for sake of humor

'Til Death Do Us Part...

Jacob and Joanna exchanging their vows.

The Ceremony

Reaghan was the prettiest bridesmaid... she favors me... : )


Jacob was fighting back tears wjen Joanna walked down the aisle... even though he probably wouldn't admit it.

Wedding Bells

As you know my favorite older brother jacob got married on October 20. Here are some pictures from the event...





Here are the little flower girls... Joanna's nieces... notice which finger the little one's holding up...

SO I thought I could Dance

A couple of weeks ago I had the chance to go see So You Think You Can Dance tour. Honestly I didn't really follow the show, but I knew there would be some great dancing... I was right.

"FRESH OFF A DESTROYER WITH A DANCE BELT AND A TUBE OF CHAPSTICK"

My Birthday

AWWW BIRTHDAYS... you laugh, you cry, sometimes you throw up fist fulls of blood. Yes, thats right. Blood. (For those of you who are not aware, I pass out at the mere SIGHT of blood.((this has happened in a few episodes of ER... pathetic)). My birthday was friday, keeping with tradition, my dear friend Emily was planning on bringing me out to dinner. Only one problem. She had her wisdom teeth pulled a week prior, and had the wound ripped open to drain her poor dry sockets... JUST the day before. What a trouper, yes? Or mabe an idiot? Just kidding. So Anyway. Me, Charity, Sharon, and Em went to a little place called Garrisons... (Nadine wasn't there mind you, because she was a punk and hanging with her boyfriend... not bitter). Enjoying and appetizer... well not emily because she was still swollen and hadn't eaten in a week. Suddenly, I saw Emily's face snap into alarm. Her face was as white as Nadine's belly in the dead of winter (yes, now i will pick on her), in complete matrix style slow motion she reaches her fingers into her mouth pulling them back out with a fist full of bright red blood. Our eyes meet exchanging two totally different types of terror. Her; my mouth is bleeding... my gaping wound has freshly ripped open... oh the pain! Me; my face is about to plummet into the center of my ghouda cheese and hummus like a fallen pita chip... I do NOT do blood. I stagger a bit ( barely missing my mediterranean platter) sharon and charity quickly escorted emily to the bathroom, where she remained for nearly an hour spitting up blood. I stood outside the bathroom... love and support from afar. What cracked me up was this lady came up to the bathroom, her tone was nearly as sharp as her obnoxious pointy hair... "Umm is this gonna take awhile?" I replied as calmly as possible, "My friend just had her teeth pulled last week, she having problems... mouth ful of blood etc."... Pointy hair; "Well if she just had her teeth pulled she should be at home in bed, why did you take her out?"..... WOW. I wanted to yank out wanna those points with a dull pair of tweezers... hahaha. just kidding. ANyway, we took em home. She is fine! What an adventure yeah? Everyone went home, and nobody showed up to my sisters for cake... so i called it a night. Happy Birthday?

viente tres

Well, it's official. I have been 23 for 8 minutes now! Wow. It feels quite amazing. Not really, its about the same. So, "23" just looks and sounds SO OLD to me. I feel like I stopped at age 20ish. I know you older people are rolling your eyes like, "girl, you are still young.... blah blah blah" I'm also aware you youngens are probably like, dang 23? She is old. I know I'm not old, but this is really weird, I'm definitely not prepared for 23. So my question. For you been there done thats... what were you doing at 23??? Good year for you? I hope so! And the youngens... is 23 that old? What do you hope to have accomplished or be at this time? I'm curious.

"I never woulda thought..."

Do you ever take a step back from your life and wonder... how in the world did I get here? You know one of those Zach Morris moments when everything freezes and you break it down. I'v had these moments when dancing at some random nursing home... tap shoes on freshly polished floors... slipping knock knees... the smell of adult pampers and sugar free koolaid filling my head... the half coherent woman in the front is wheeling circles round the man (speaking in tongues?) throwing napkin pieces at the nurse. I was about 12... that was one of my first, "I never woulda thought" moments...
SO HOW BOUT YALL>? Do you ever just say "timeout", how did I get here? Let me know... I'm sure they are all different AND it could be recent... or as I shared... awhile back.

catfish bangs

We've all seen it. We all most likely have tried it if not sported it with pride. I'm talking about the catfish bangs...

CATFISH BANGS STANDARDS:

!. two strands of hair must cascade down either side of face

2. the mysterious immobility of the bangs is acheived with some mousse or gel (size of a pearl)

3. they must be unnaturally placed, and taper at the bottom (a point if you will)

4. best accompanied with a stretchy black choker and dark lip liner

5. the victim's countenance must be that of, "yeah whateva"

6. the victim must often run fingers down each "bang" ensuring an authentic catfish whisker look

7. stonewashed jeans are encouraged

8. victim might store extra mousse in an optional fanny pack to slick down those irritating fly aways

9. feeling saucy? dress it up with a tiara!

10. once you have mastered the catfish bangs, one might strive for catfish sideburns... same rules apply however, the "whisker" originates at the hairline in front of the ear...


OK so what do yall think would dress up some catfish bangs??? Have you ever seen people rock it??? Mabe you'll take notice and have a newfound respect for this rare breed...

s0cially (Acceptable) sTalking

I am very new to this blog world. I did the myspace thing for a bit, I still occasionally check it... but it lost its original thrill after I looked at everyone of my friends' friends' friends' site. Their pictures, comments left back and forth, who's with who ( who wore the same outfit everyday of labor day weekend), OH! and what cracks me up are the people who leave a bulletin announcing to the world they have 27 new pictures (of themselves) and everyone should comment on them. WHAT INSANITY. And what is with this "TOP 8" mess??? Am I really required to list my TOP 8 friends ranking them from most to least importance? I'm telling you it is socially acceptable stalking. It enables and encourages socially unhealthy habits. If you ever catch yourself mindlessly surfing on myspace, ask yourself..."Why am I looking at Emily's friend Sarah's cousin Susy's Aunt Kim's son Bart's Bar Mitzvah pictures?"