It's official. The search engine issues are fixed. Thank goodness. Now I'm back to getting hits from people looking for crap like "nude bloopers" and "coochies."
Tonight, I made an earth shattering decision. I decided that it was too far to drive to the nail salon in 105 degree heat without a/c in the van, it is clear over in the next state for goodness sakes. Accepting defeat, I attempted to remove my fabulous, holicious, pornstarrific, glorious nails. It didn't work, so I chopped them off as best I could. Now I'm back to my fat little sausage looking fingers. It had to be done. They'd gotten so long that I'd nearly ripped my left pinky nail off on more than one occasion, even getting it hung in the data printer in work a few times. They had to go.
Let's have a moment of silence.
*brushing away a tear*
Okay, moving on.
Ma is on my case to either get my car fixed or buy a new one, she wants her van back. That's fine with me, I really don't like driving it, I feel like I'm cruising around in the special bus. But, I'm afraid to take my car to the mechanic. Oh, don't worry, I won't be taking it to Jethro and Gomer down at the filling station. There is one other mechanic in town. His garage is adjacent to his other business venture, the new Frog Pond Holler Steak and Seafood restaurant. I ask you, just how fresh can the seafood be up here in the freakin' mountains? That's neither here nor there, when it comes to my car, but I have to wonder. The last time I drove my car, thick black smoke came billowing out of the back. I haven't taken it for repair because I'm afraid he's going to tell me it's too far gone.
I've told ya'll before about my hoochie mama neighbor. It's no exaggeration, she really is a thirty dolla' ho. She's got a camper out behind her ass-crack flauntin' stepdad's house, on the other side of the creek (okay, it's really more of a drainage ditch, but I'm trying to paint a picture here.) In the summer, when it's hot and she's um.. entertaining clients.. she leaves the door and windows open. It has become apparent on my late night quests for some peaceful solitude out on the porch, that she's quite the enthusiastic performer during her profitable encounters. The amazon finds this greatly disturbing, which became apparent the other night when the she was stomping around the house hollering about something (I don't have a CLUE where she got her loud mouth from *cough*) when I told her she needed to hush, that there was a noise ordinance in Frog Pond Holler and someone was going to call the law if she didn't tone it down. Her response:
"Well it obviously isn't enforced, what with all the FAT SLAPPIN' SEX NOISES coming from across the street!!!!"
Yeah, that's my kid. No doubt about that.
I want to thank Craig Ferguson for mentioning that it was Shark Week on the Discovery Channel. The amazon has commandeered the remote and I'm being forced to watch it against my will. Speaking of which, he's starting to worry me. Publicly whacking his lamb shark on the boob tube is going to earn him a reputation the likes of PeeWee Herman and George Michael.
I'm off to feed critters and head to bed. Ya'll try to stay cool.