Autumn Aromas, Silver Parachutes and Lot's of Pukin'

Fall is upon us here in the holler. The morning air is a little cooler and carries the faint aroma of wood smoke as local residents fire up the old cast iron stoves, sending plumes of grey up in to the sky, just long enough to get the chill off before sending the youngins out to the bus stop.

Old pick-ups pass you on the narrow roads, so loaded down with wood that the truck bed sits six inches lower than the cab. They take their time and you get out of their way as they haul the first of what will probably be many loads over the winter, depending on how cold it gets.

Soon the roads will be covered with tourists in cars, RVs and fancy motorcycles, mostly retired folks arriving in large packs to see the blankets of bright orange, gold and red, like giant patchwork quilts covering the hills as the leaves turn, one last hurrah before winter takes hold.

Well.. if they can find any gas that is.

There ain't none in Frog Pond Holler and from what I hear, your chances aren't much better out towards Big City. It takes gas to run the chainsaws to cut the wood to heat the majority of homes here. I'm glad I don't have to worry about that anymore... although I'm a little afraid to order oil for the furnace. I'm sure it's going to cost some ungodly amount.

When we first moved here, I spent many a Saturday morning moving wood from the pile by Uncle Barney's wood splitter to the back of his truck, where my trashy, big-boobed cousin with the lazy eye would stack it. When we'd finish, he'd haul it down to the house and we'd unload it and stack it again. Then, of course, you had to haul it in to the house, in smaller stacks, by the wood stove.

I've never been so glad to see a thermostat as I was when we moved in to that trailer.


~*~

Things got a little tense here at the Asylum yesterday. First, Thelma called in sick. P.G. said she sounded awful, like she was near death. Louise immediately went all CDC with the Lysol.

Then, around ten or so, Lulu flew past me in the hall, mumbling something.. but all I understood out of it was "pukin." She was plumb green. I ran back to my desk and doused myself with Moonlight Path hand sanitizer.

Soon after, Lulu showed up at my door with her purse in hand. "I'm goin' home. I didn't finish yesterday's stuff... just enter orders and don't worry about it. I'll sort it out tomorrow." She said this because Thelma is Lulu's back up.. and she was at home, knockin' on heaven's door according to P.G.

Louise snuck in to Lulu's office after she left and coated everything with Lysol. The stench of disinfectant would have gagged a moose.. but by gawd there wasn't any way a germ survived.

Soon after Lulu left, the G.M. made his way down the hall. "Where's Lulu?" he asked.

"She left. She was pukin'" I answered. No sense in beating around the bush.

"Well... where the hell is Thelma?" he seemed agitated.

"She called in sick."

He went down the hall to P.G. and interrogated him as to the gory details and severity of Thelma's ailment. Then, he had Louise get her on the phone and proceeded to inform her that she needed to come in and finish yesterday's paperwork.

Now.. regardless of the fact that once Thelma got here, it became painfully obvious that there was little, if anything wrong with her, I can't believe he had the cajones to call her and make her come in. I mean, seriously? If I were to call in sick and he were to do that, I believe I would end up getting fired.

We don't get paid for sick days, it's not like she was getting anything out of the company and we're all working part time hours anyway. We fight over getting to come in any at all.

Anywho.. it made everyone uncomfortable. Oh and then he walked around cracking jokes that Lulu must be pregnant to have to leave pukin'.

~*~

A few words on this "Bailout" situation..

I had to give up getting my nails done.. and those of you who've been around here a while know how much I loved my hookerlicious ho nails. I have a serious case of hag hair because I can't justify driving to Fanstastic Sams Samuele De Fantastique for a hair cut, nor have I spent the whopping $8.99 on a box of hair color.. all so that I can at least make my house payment and truck payment in a timely manner.

The credit cards are another story.. but anyway..

Are the CEOs of these big companies doing without anything? Are they skipping their hair cuts? (Which I'm sure cost more than the $12 mine would.) Do they still have service to their Crackberries and IPhones? And we're going to put money in their pockets?

I'm sorry.... but there is something seriously wrong with this picture.

I'm QUITE certain they wouldn't stand nervously at the dentist's office after an emergency visit, breaking out in to a cold sweat and praying to all that's holy that their credit card payment go through because they don't have any cash until the end of the month. A visit that cost them way more than it should because their insurance barely covers walking in the office, much less the dentist actually DOING anything.

I understand that there is a fear that if we don't do something, there will be a domino effect, sending the economy even deeper in to the bowels of hell than it already is, but seriously? Isn't there another solution? I mean.. can I get a bail out over here? I'll pay my mortgage and my truck payment.. but could I just get like $2,000 for credit cards?

I don't need a Golden Parachute, sterling silver will be just fine.

I know.. I shouldn't have charged it if I couldn't pay it. But you see, I had a full time job then. I've been with this company for going on 13 years and I've NEVER had my hours cut, I had no reason to suspect that I'd be working 32 hours a week when I used my credit card for frivolous things like repairs on the van so that I could get my kid back and forth to college for four years. A van, if you'll remember, that I had to tie the door closed because the latch was broken. Or a window unit to replace the central air that went belly up this summer.. in the armpit of the south where 98° is a regular occurrence.

I guess you can blame whoever's fault it is that my hours got cut. Well.. let's see.. that was whoever is responsible for sales going in the toilet, a direct result of the economy taking a nose dive.. and we're right back to the very people we're bailing out.

Smells like bullshit to me.

Sorry, the whole thing's making me a little pissy.

Anywho...

Bubbles is gone to lunch, so I'm going to bask in the solitude and jam to a little Skid Row. Ya'll have a kick ass Humpday.

Hump it like a CEO.

P.S. I want to thank MJ over at Note to Self for the linky love. Ya'll run by her place and say hi :)