Squinty Morning

The air is a little crisp and cool in the holler this morning. The skies are dark off beyond the mountain tops, it looks like we'll get rain before the day is said and done. I was about a third of the way in to my walk this morning when I realized why the world was looking a little fuzzy... I forgot my glasses.

The Amazon's root canal didn't go well yesterday and she felt she needed to share, in graphic detail, everything that went wrong. She had to open at the Pump n' Go this morning, so I've not had a chance to check on her yet. I hope she took some ibuprofen with her.

We had a meeting here at the Asylum yesterday afternoon. There will be more layoffs this week and the rest of us will be going back to 30 hours. For those of you keeping score, I've gone from 40 to 32 to 30 to 40 to 32 and now back to 30. The news came as a shock to me, I honestly thought things were getting better. I thought sales were up (yes.. but not enough, I'm told) and that we were on the upswing. Oh well.. head up.. smile on.. keep swimming.

Oh and?

I swear to pickles.. if Lulu comes over here and starts her Chicken Little crap I'm leaving.

Anywho... if you need me, I'll be sitting over here in the corner squinting at the screen, at least until lunchtime. Just follow the sound of the oldies station down the hall.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Dear Darlene

Dear Darlene,

While I know you enjoy your maintenance/cleaning position here at the Asylum, there are a few things we need to go over. You do a great job keeping everything spic and span and we all appreciate it, but do you think maybe you could shut the hell up be just a tad bit less chatty in the process? I'm sure you're sincere when you interrogate me inquire about my truck, washing machine repairs, my family and why I'm out walking around the building every morning, all before I've managed to shove my purse in to my desk drawer.. but honestly? I'm just not a morning person. I'm not chatty before noon and it's getting more and more difficult for me to be polite about it.

Oh and could you please stop telling me, "I bet you sure do miss Bubbles. Maybe she'll get to come back to work soon." Because I don't. I'm glad she's gone. I've never been happier and I'm running out of polite ways to change the subject without telling you exactly how I feel. I realize that all of Frog Pond Holler thinks the girl's poop doesn't stink, but I've got news for you. She's a backstabbing biatch.

Oh and another thing, since we're all caring and sharing this morning, I know that while you begin working an hour before we all come in, you schedule your cleaning duties so that you're in here ramming your big ass, obnoxious sounding vacuum cleaner in to my chair, jarring the crap out of my delicate bootay, just in time to greet PG at the door, fawning over him, thrusting your tiny little bewbies in to the air and giggling like an effin moron flirtatiously. We've all noticed it and it's pathetic. So stop. For the love a' God.

I'm sure you're a nice person Darlene. I know you're exactly as the Universe intended you to be and in that sense, you are perfection. I'd just appreciate it if you could practice your perfect morning person bubbliness down the hall somewhere.

Kay? Thanks!

Signed,

Not A Morning Person

Mahala

Mahala Checks In

The aroma of strong, black coffee fills the trailer, BBQ chicken is doing it's thing in the slow cooker and the sun is shining bright down on the holler, forcing it's way through the dirty windows and warming the rooms for the first time in what seems like forever. The voice of Melissa Etheridge cries through the speakers, "it's only fear that makes you run," at just the right moment.

Oh the Universe will get it's point across.

I spent most of yesterday lying around on the couch in a perpetual state of pity waller. I won't bore you with the gory details of my aches and pains, what really matters is that today I feel like I can take on the world.

Well maybe not the world, but possibly the grocery store.

I had a huge laundry list of things I needed to accomplish this weekend, none of which got done. I'm learning not to beat myself up over it. The dirt isn't going anywhere.. although I do keep hoping the Dust Bunny Fairy will show up and magically make everything clean and shiny.

Anywho..

If I'm going to do the hunting and gathering, I need to get my big bootay in gear. I'm going to dust my camera off and take a few pictures along the way.. I'm feeling kinda creative today for some reason.

I promise I'll share.

Ya'll have a spectacular day. We'll talk more soon.

Later Taters!

Huts, Triage and Embracing My Inner Dork

It's really Friday.. right? It's not a dream? AND I'm getting off an hour early from my already early punch out time?

The Asylum has certainly earned it's nickname this week. Sales are up (ever so slightly) but hours are still reduced, making for an interesting day. I've had to revive my EMT triage skills when dealing with customers, learning to categorize by level of importance, then trying like hell to make sure no potential new accounts or orders bleed out in the process.

Who would have thought disaster training would come in handy at the office?

Anywho...

I've been thinking lately about tribal menstrual huts. They ("they" being the unseen, unnamed all knowing authority on everything in the world) make it sound like women were banished to these huts, just outside the village while they dealt with their womanly... demons.. possession.. whatever. After a few days of pondering this practice (because you just never know what the hell kinda weird shit I may be pondering at any given moment) I've come to the conclusion that it was actually the women's idea.

I won't elaborate further.

Moving on...

I've been spending a lot of time doing the social networking thing. I seem to go in spurts, flitting from Plurk to Twitter to Facebook like a desperate and lonely geek little butterfly. I use Plurk to chat with friends and say hi, it's definitely more conversational than the other two. I check Facebook a couple of times a day, leaving a comment here and there but I've sworn off those little personality tests. They keep telling me I'm a man. I don't know why.. but it's giving me a complex.

As for Twitter? I've been "tweeting" since it was so new you could see your own post show up on the "Everyone" page.. but it's never taken off for me. It's like high school all over again. I'm the dweeby social ninny, trying desperately to fit in with the "cool kids." So now? I've started following a bunch of celebrity tweeters... I'm still ignored, but at least it seems justified and I crack myself up with my witty repartee.

That's right, I'm like the little round kid in the corner of the play ground, making up my own games to amuse myself. Please don't throw rocks.

I reckon it's time for this dorky kid to put my toys away and get down to business. We'll talk more this weekend. Ya'll have a good one!

Later Taters!

He Whines, Therefore I Must Whine

Could it be any grayer out? Eck.

I hate to keep bitching about work, but um.. anyway.. this little tidbit of conversation between Bossman and I will give you an idea of what it's like lately:

Me, trying to lighten the mood while me and one of the QC guys wait for Bossman to look something up: "Tomorrow you'll come in and find Bossman's catalog with the cover missing. I'm going to hang it up in my office," I say, holding up a supply book with Mike Rowe's (from Dirty Jobs) picture on the cover.

Bossman: "You'll find something hanging all right."

Me: "Hmmm.. what?" I ask.

Bossman: "I'm going to hang myself over your cubicle, since I can't seem to do anything right and everyone hates me."

Me.. not sure how serious to take him and little weary from patting his bruised ego all day: "No sir you will not. You'll take that messy business out in the plant. You're not staining my carpet."

Okay, probably not the nicest response. But jeeze Louise.

Anywho...

Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

Sourpusses, Little Squirts and Lackanookie

I was all excited for Bossman to get back this morning. I couldn't wait for him to see all the sales I'd booked, all the quotes I'd submitted, I just knew I would get a big ol' "atta girl."

I was mistaken.

He schlagged in to the office looking like a whipped dog, then propped up back in his cave with a nasty case of sourpussedness. His mood didn't improve much as the day went on. Oh I tried.. my deep perverse need to please authority figures pushed me to force witty one liners, laugh boisterously and make a general jackass of myself.

I was acting just like Bubbles. (Aim right between the eyes please. Make it quick and painless.)

By lunch time I'd come back to my senses.

No one was in a good mood. There were snippy, catty little remarks being tossed around, just loud enough to make sure the other party might hear. Long faces, moping... they make it hard as hell for a girl to try to stay positive.

It's no damned wonder I'm so tired when I get home. It's not the job, it's the atmosphere.

~*~

The garden is still untilled. I may break down and buy a tiller instead of looking for someone with a loaner. It could come in handy for clearing away some of the junk growing on the bank behind the house and uncovering old Cherokee artifacts.

That's right. I'm becoming one of those old spinster women who dig in the yard and talk to the rocks because they've not had SEX IN SO DAMNED LONG THAT THEY'VE LOST THEIR MIND.

*cough*

Sorry about that. I'll try to calm my little ass down.


~*~

So Ma's mad at me again. This time it's because I sprayed some pet odor remover on a pee spot on the rug. On the other end of the trailer. A quarter sized squirt.... caused by this little squirt:


Apparently my spraying the spot on the carpet proved that I never considered anyone else's feelings, I was trying to choke her to death spraying stuff "all over the house" and I cared about those damned dogs more than her.

I was also reprimanded for using "smelly" lotion.

This afternoon, she met me in the kitchen as soon as I got home from work and began interrogating me about my tax refund, insisting that because I claim her, the stimulus part of it was hers. I'm not sure what part she was talking about, there was nothing very stimulating about my refund. While I may splurge for a box of hair color and a visit to Super Cuts, most of it's going to replace the rotors on the truck, pay the taxes I owe on it and getting the tags renewed.

Between her and the Asylum, I may have to take up drinking again.

~*~

Tomorrow is a new day. I get off at 3, which means I can go back to taking my long walks around the property before heading home. I measured it once, one lap is a third of a mile. I stroll along the road that circles the Asylum, looking at wild flowers, critters and imagining what it looked like back when it was a huge estate. There are even ruins of the manor house in the pasture behind the building and a family cemetery up on the hill, overlooking the creek.

I just have to watch for snakes. And wild attack turkeys.

No shit.

Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

The Groping Engineer, Jasper and Sasquatch

Ahh.. the weekend is almost over. In a few hours, Monday will be upon us again. My slothful weekend was a success.. sort of. I took care of a few domestic duties that have been nagging at me for a while, but I did them a little at a time, with plenty of breaks. I actually feel well rested.

Last night I decided I needed to do something about a situation I've neglected for too long. Ya'll have to understand, living here in the holler, I don't worry too much about impressing anyone. Any man I happen to stumble upon during my limited travels is probably my cousin anyway, so stuff like shaving my legs, especially during the winter months, gets pushed to the bottom of the to do list.

Last night, I took action.

It didn't end well. We cancelled the transfusion, but I may require a skin graph.

It looks like somebody slaughtered Sasquatch in there.

But the legs? Like a baby's tushie... if you can look past the Snoopy bandaides. I just hope I don't excite Jasper or the Groping Engineer. They've been circling my cube lately, like a horny pack. It must be mating season for the Pocket Protectapis Dorkus Maximus.

I don't think I told ya'll about the Groping Engineer. He looks like Colonel Sanders, drives an old beater Ford truck (with camper shell) and lives alone in a house he rents out on the edge of town.. with a home made tepee in his yard.

Can you say serial killer?

He likes to pass me in the hall and run his hands up and down my forearms.. which I'm convinced is just a lame attempt to cop a feel of the girls. We've never had a conversation. I can count the number of times he's spoken to me on one hand.. making his obvious comfort level with rubbing all up on me in the hall all the creepier.

*shudder*

Anywho...

I've been thinking about last week at the Asylum and I've decided that I'm damned proud of myself.

When Bubbles first came back to work, I was already insecure. I'd been moved to the sales department and had about a week's training when the sales manager quit. I didn't know what I was doing and Bubbles thrived on letting me know that I didn't do anything right when she got there.

Since she's been gone, I've been paranoid as hell that I'd make a mistake, causing the GM to decide that I couldn't handle it, forcing him to ditch me and hire her back.

But last week... I kicked ass. Alone. And it feels good. I'm convinced it was just what I needed to restore confidence in myself.

Everything happens for a reason.

Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Peaceful Easy Feeling

Towards town around ten this morning
The dishwasher is running, the Amazon is at work and dogs are napping here and there around the house.

It's quiet.

While the peacefulness of the holler is usually my biggest complaint, today it's welcomed. I honestly didn't think I would make it through the past week at the Asylum without having at least one tear filled whine fest.. but I did. We ended up getting that $8k order yesterday afternoon, but not before involving several people, some yelling and more phone calls than I care to count. We're only "making" $1K on the order. It doesn't hardly seem worth it.

Oh.. Bossman will be getting an earful Monday morning.

The grand total for the week was nearly $100K. The GM threatened to tell Bossman to take another week off since I seem to book more when I'm left alone. The GM doesn't know how close he came to death or at least.. dismemberment.. when he made that comment.

I came home yesterday to find that the Amazon had vacuumed, spot cleaned the carpet and she had dinner waiting for me.. which is a good thing since there wasn't a chance in hell I would be cooking when I got home.

Anywho... I'm too pooped to be witty this morning. I'll check back in later, after I've spent an embarrassingly slothful day, doing nothing more stressful than moving from the couch to the computer.. just in case something exciting happens on one of the half gazillion social networks I seem to think I have to keep up with.

Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

Superheros, Wacky Candians and the British Empire

I'm so far behind I can see my own butt looming on the horizon. Even if I did bust my arse for the next 8 hours, I still wouldn't be caught up, angry sales reps would still be calling to question my intelligence, reliability and organizational skills and I'd still be buried in a pile of papers.

Therefore.. I blog.

Yesterday was hellacious. By 11:30 last night, I was still too keyed up to close my eyes. The highlights:

1. I spent a full 20 minutes on the phone with one of our Canaidan reps while he lectured me on the evils of the British Empire, made comparisons between them and the Middle East, explained to me how each and every feckin' territory they've ever controlled came in to their possession and how if I'm part Indian I need to go get my band card so I don't have to pay taxes. To demonstrate that he meant Native American and not Indian from India he smacked his hand against his mouth and made the "whoop whooop whooop" sound. Seriously, I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.
2. Bossman had quoted this one customer back on the NINTH and told them maybe we could get them what they wanted by the 31st, if they placed the order that day. Yesterday they were calling me with their bloomers in a wad because they still wanted it on the 31st, yet still hadn't placed the order. After a couple of emails back and forth, PG calling our tooling guy twice and my finally getting them what they wanted, I get a phone call from the buyer's boss asking me what my problem is. Apparently she failed to inform her supervisor that she never processed and submitted an order. These people kept me running for the entire afternoon. There was yelling. We will probably lose the $8K order. And I don't feckin' give a rat's left cheek.
3. The big customer order that we get every Thursday wasn't that big and between the whoop whoop Canadian and the pain in the asses down in Houston, I only got like $10K of it put in. On paper, it will look like I didn't do a damned thing.

It is Friday. Halleefreakinlooya. Bossman will be back on Monday. I may throw myself on the floor and sob at his feet when I see him come in the door.

As for the weekend, I don't have any grand plans. The Amazon wants to take the truck to go to Big City to see some super hero flick. She's a geek that way. I think we have enough groceries to last another week or so. I may just play in clay all weekend and try to forget about the Asylum.

Who knows?

Ya'll have a good one. I'll be over here buried in paperwork, hiding from the phone.

Later Taters!

Sometimes, A Quickie is Better than Nothing

Okies ya'll, due to the fact that I'm up to my delicate little bootay in paperwork and... holy feckin hell.. if the phone rings one more time I may yank the sumbeetch out of the wall and toss it in the creek.. this will be a quickie.

Those of you who follow me on Facebook, Twitter or Plurk already know that my trashy big-boobed cousin with the lazy eye showed up at my house with the internet hunny she drove to N.Y. and fetched.. to mow yesterday. I'm not sure what they mowed, nothing is growing yet, but they drove the big ass ride-on up and down the brown yard for hours. As I was leaving to come back to work after lunch, I noticed something laying on the back of their car.

An invoice for mowing services.

Oh yes, giant cajones run in my family.

But that's not why I HAD to come tell ya'll all about it. When I left for work this morning, I found the shirt that my trashy big-boobed cousin with the lazy eye had been wearing while mowing was draped over the porch rail.

Hello? WTF?

Should I even ask?

Anywho.. ya'll have an awesome day. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

I'd Hump It, If I Had the Time

Good gawd ya'll. Is it only WEDNESDAY? It seems like I've been down here in the trenches all by myself for WEEKS. My office looks like feckin' Mission Control with my computer on the desk and Bossman's laptop on the table behind me. I'm keeping up with requests from FOUR different email accounts (mine, Bossmans, the general sales account and the account formerly known as Bubbles) and I'm getttin' downright jiggy with it faxin' quotes and entering orders like a crazy person.

And you wondered why I call it the Asylum.

Let's take a moment in the midst of all the mayhem (and while the managers are all in their piss, moan and bellyache morning meeting) to touch base on all things Mahala.

Yesterday the Amazon got the news that she'll be having another root canal in two weeks. She's not pleased. I told her she should email Dianne Sawyer and tell her she's a hillbilly Mountain Dew addict. Maybe ABC News will film the whole thing and pay her for the pleasure. The Amazon failed to see the humor in my little comment.

Everyone's a critic.

Remember the other day when I told ya'll about Thelma's little run of bad luck? Well.. her daddy's new surgery is scheduled for this Friday. Also? She lost a filling on the way to work this morning and she's misplaced her drivers license. PG tried to convince her that she's just not living right, which I think just made her more nervous.

Bless her heart.

Lulu harbors no sympathy for her whatsoever, a fact I'm finding difficult to deal with. If I had seen Bubbles walking around the office with a giant eye patch, then dark Stevie Wonder glasses and a constant stream of eye goo running down her cheek, I would have at least felt a little sorry for her. I mean, if you're going to stroll around playing the uber holy roller, you should at least have a crumb of compassion for your enemies.. right?

Don't ask me. I'm just a heathern.

The townsfolk here in the holler are all in a wad over the impending move of the caboose that serves as the town's welcome center. People watched and wondered as the porch was ripped off the front. Rumor is that they're moving it down to a tiny patch of land the town still owns, adjacent to the spa property.

The walls of the caboose are lined with old black and white pictures of residents past and present. There's even a picture of my grandaddy, "Big Daddy," in a high school baseball uniform... which now that I think about it.. doesn't make sense since I was told he "found" Frog Pond Holler when he was working on the railroad, then moving here from over in Forest City.

Hmmm. I need to look in to that.

Anywho...

If I survive this Humpday, I'll be back soon with more titillating news from the holler.

Titillating. There's a fun word.

Later Taters!

If It Weren't for Bad Luck... At Least it's Not Me

I laid in bed until after 1:00 last night before I finally gave up and moved to the couch. It was entirely too warm in my bedroom, the hairless wonder kept leaping off the bed to scratch, his tags dingling against his collar, then jumping back in place and trying to scootch me over.

The dog only weights like 30lbs, but he could scootch a moose out of his way.

There were other reasons I couldn't sleep, but those are the highlights. So anyway, I got up, moved to the couch in the living room, dragging my quilt behind me, stopping to turn the a.c. on low and crashing out in front of it. I dreamed that I argued with Ma over selling my first car 26 years ago, flipped around in my sleep like a Mexican jumping bean then around 3 a.m., I woke up in a cold sweat and freezing my tush off.

Finally I slept. I would have slept on through until 6:30, but when the Amazon got up to go to work at Oh Dark Thirty and found me on the couch, she felt it was her duty to poke me awake to make sure I knew I was asleep on the couch. I groggily explained to her that it was okay, I'd set the alarm on my phone. She left for work and I snuggled back down in to the couch and went back to sleep.

Sometime between 6 and 6:30, the scanner went off. "Boop BEEP boop. Boop BEEP boop," which my brain is still programmed to recognize as the Frog Pond Holler VFD tones. I listened for a second to make sure we weren't under attack, being flooded or anything else that couldn't wait until the butt crack of dawn. When they said to respond to someone who'd recently had knee surgery, I knew right away it was Thelma's dad, who is also the Amazon's boss.

Bless his heart. That's painful surgery anyway and he's had nothing but problems. I felt bad for him, but not bad enough to get up.

I dozed back off just in time for the alarm to go off. I hit snooze. I deserved a snooze.

Seconds later, before I'd even reached a snooze state...

"Mahala.. Mahala.. MAHALA.. are you awake.. MAHALA.. was that your phone.. what did she say.. MAHALA!!!"

I rolled over to see Ma standing in the kitchen wringing her hands. I think she heard my alarm and assumed it was the Amazon calling about Thelma's dad. I'm not exactly sure.

In spite of all that, I made it to work on time. As I was falling out of the truck in the parking lot, I met Thelma, coffee in hand and leaving for the hospital. Apparently her dad's knee "popped" and he'd taken just about all of his pain medication before he bothered calling anyone. We figure he's probably going to be having another surgery today. I only got bits and pieces of what she was telling me because I was distracted by her left eye being swollen shut. It looked like she'd been in a bar brawl... and lost.

She said she didn't have a very good weekend.

Apparently she'd scratched her cornea and was pretty much blind in one eye. This happened right after they got her son's car put out. It caught on fire after having a new stereo installed. I watched all five feet of her climbing in her daddy's big, gray Silverado (because her car died last week) and shook my head.

I'm just tired.. I can deal with tired.

There's no one in the office but me, PG and the GM's assistant, the last of which you'd might as well not even count because she doesn't do anything but talk on her cellphone. It's Lulu's day off and mandatory manager's week off for both Bossman and Tiny. I've already had one customer call and demand that I put his quote in front of all the others. I did not make his day. He will get over it... or not.

Ya'll have a bootay kickin' day and hang in there. I know I will.

Later Taters!

A Stiff Drink Couldn't Hurt

I slept entirely too late this morning, dragging my lazy butt out of bed at 10:30. After a half a pot of coffee, I forced myself into the shower and almost followed that up with a nap. If it hadn't been for Ma nagging me gently suggesting that perhaps someone should go buy some food, I probably would have gone right back to sleep.

My heart was not feelin' the whole grocery shopping thing.. but I went. I didn't even bother to take coupons. I was slinging dead carcass and frozen bags of mystery roughage in my cart with wild abandon.

I'm still not 100% sure of everything I ended up with. The next two weeks will be filled with culinary mystery.

Luckily it wasn't until I arrived back at the trailer that the intestinal assault took place, with very little warning. At least now I know why I felt so craptacular. Hopefully it's a bug of the 24 hour variety and will be making it's way on to the next unsuspecting victim soon. The last thing I need is to be holed up in the one seater at the Asylum during Bossman's mandatory week off, while I am THE ONE and ONLY sales ninja.

Naw... I'm not stressing over it. Not at all.

*cough*

In other news...

I'm rethinking my recent decision to allow my hair to grow out to it's natural color. The recent addition of eye wear to my fashion ensemble has created a situation I hadn't anticipated. When looking in the bathroom mirror, I'm greeted not by my own reflection, but that of my mother's.

We can't be having this.

My hair has grown out considerably since making the decision to go natural, becoming long, hanging down in my face and now with silvery streaks half way down from my scalp. I look like something that comes down off the mountain once a month to buy a sack of flour, a bottle of lamp oil and a box of chewing tobacco before disappearing back in to the woods until the next full moon.

So yeah.. something will have to be done.

Anywho..

It's Saturday night in the holler. The VFD Bingo-Hot Dog Social has been over for two hours, they've found a dead body up on the mountain and I can hear Ma sawing logs down on her end of the trailer. Seeing how I slept so late this morning, I'll probably be up half the night watching crappy movies on cable.

There is no end to the excitement in my life.

Ya'll enjoy the rest of your weekend.

Later Taters!

Spinning, Squeaking, Cussing and Tears

Things I learned this week:

• While Bossman gets points for volume while throwing his early morning cussing fits, he really could stand to work on his vocabulary. If you're going to be spitting out ten word strings of profanity, it helps to know more than three four letter wordy dirties.
• If I over sleep and show up to work without makeup, Bossman will always ask if I've got a weird rash on my face. This knowledge should come in handy should I ever decide I need some time off or just want to keep people out of my cubicle.
• Margaret Cho can make a dildo cry. I really don't want to know what kind of abuse she subjects it to, nor do I wish to explain how I gained this knowledge. I just felt it needed to be shared.
• Lulu, who is usually a delicate, demure flower, can funk up a bathroom like nobody's business. Especially when I'm standing in the hall doing the peepee dance, waiting for the office one-seater to become available. Unfortunately, Lulu's not the kind of friend I can confront and say, "Dayum.. what crawled up your ass and died?" so I'll just put it here, on the internet, for the rest of the world to see.
• When faced with impending death, your last thoughts aren't what you'd think. Especially when you're on the toilet and blow your severely congested nose, resulting in a high pitched squeal coming from your left ear. As the room begins to spin and your field of vision narrows, you don't think of loved ones, unfinished business or the realization that you're ending your life as a lonely spinster... no. As you put a death grip on the counter, granny panties around your ankles and head spinning, you fight for your life because you know you heard Bubbles' Bubbahubby on the scanner earlier and when the Amazon staggers into the bathroom at the butt crack of dawn, finding you dead on the throne and calling 911, it's Bubbles' Bubbahubby who'll show up in the ambulance.

Not that anything like that happened..

The weekend's almost here. Hang in there.

Later Taters!

Dear Guy

Dear Guy Selling Meat From a Truck,

It is my lunch hour, a sixty minute period in the middle of the day when I enjoy nukrowaved mooburgers from the Holler Grocery, drink Pepsi and watch stuff about Edgar Cayce on the teevee. This is not a time when I welcome visitors.. and by "visitors" I mean people I actually know. You, being some punkass little twit with bad timing a door-to-door salesman, do not fall into the visitor category, even if I were to accept visitors at this time.

When I opened the door, holding an arm full of wriggling chihuaranian and gracefully pushing a Boston baked beagle back from said door with my right foot, in a position rivalling the most difficult Yoga pose, you should have realized that knocking on my door was a really bad idea, taken the hint and left.

But no.

In what part of your tiny little mind did you think it was wise to extend your hand, in expectation of a friendly handshake when I hadn't even bothered to open the screen door? What would you suggest I open it with? My left boob?

By now, the wriggling chihuaranian was so excited that there was a stranger at the door, that he piddled a little on my shirt. I really appreciate that, Guy Selling Meat From a Truck. Now I'll have to change clothes before I go back to the Asylum.

As I teetered on one foot holding the wriggling dog, watching from the corner of my eye as the other mutt tried to sneak past my foot, I would have appreciated it if you could have just said, "Hi, I'm a loser and sell mystery meat off the back of a truck. Wanna buy some?" instead of going on about how your company "does deliveries in the area."

Because honestly? "Ribeyes, Rump Roasts and Chops... CHEAP!" painted on the side of your vehicle wasn't a clue... at all.

So Guy Selling Meat off a Truck, I hope you choose a new career path soon. I don't see you finding much success around here with your chosen occupation and there's a good chance you could end up with a bootay full of buck shot.

Sincerely,

That Chick in the Trailer with the Dog Pee on Her Shirt

Slingblade, Poodles and Pandas

Lawd ya'll. I don't know if it's the time change, allergies or just my usual ailments, but I feel like poop on a poodle (like crap on a cracker.. but not.) It feels sorta like morning sickness, but cha'll can just put any notions of that kind right out of your head.

It's sorta quiet here at the Asylum this morning. PG's off this week, Thelma took the morning off to take her Pop to the doctor and Lulu's got enough to keep her busy for a while. I'm kinda caught up.. depending on how you define "caught up."

Sales are getting a little better every day. I think we bottomed out about a month ago with numbers slowly creeping back up now. Hopefully it'll level off at just enough for me to go back to my full time hours, without getting so busy that they feel the need to call Bubbles back.. especially since I've already gone through her old desk and acquired a wide assortment of high quality office supplies... stuff the rest of us can't seem to get.

Lulu still talks about the spiffy new staple-puller-outie-thingie I found for her. It was her birthday after all.

Tales from the Mall

The other day while me and the Amazon were wandering around, killing time while waiting for my shnazzy new specs, we decided to stop and grab a bite to eat at Panda Express. Normally, I despise the mall food court with the screaming children, loud music and massive crowds but it's been a while since I've had anything "out" that didn't either come from the Grab n' Go (and go and go) or a drive-thru window.

I was happily chowing down gracefully sampling the delicate flavor of my mushroom chicken when I felt something become lodged between my molars. It's not unusual for food to get stuck between one's teeth, but this wasn't a mere tidbit of food. No.. this was a giant wad of something, applying painful pressure to my gums.

The Amazon was merrily chatting away as she looked around, commenting on the people and the little children in the play area, glancing back to face me just in time to catch me tossing my head back, my mouth agape and using a large, black plastic fork as a makeshift toothpick/crowbar, trying in vain to dislodge the ginormous wad of fowl from my teeth.

"No.. NO! Oh My God would you stop," she said slapping at my hand. "Seriously.. I can't take your redneck butt anywhere.."

I tried to explain to her that it was an emergency situation, but she wasn't hearing it. After hours of tooth sucking, public displays of the "I've got something in my teeth and it won't come out" face where your jaw is slightly askew and you get that momentary Slingblade look, I finally excavated the half a damn chicken that was stuck up in there. I had to go marching through the house with it on my finger to show the Amazon to prove that I wasn't exaggerating.

And ya'll wonder why I can't catch me a feller.

Anywho.. I'd better get back to work. Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Around Town and Around the Trailer

My visit to the eye doctor at the Big City mall was chock full of surprises. First, one would assume that a walk-in optometrist office situated in the mall, adjacent to a large vision correction chain store would be wall-to-wall people on a Saturday afternoon. When I commented to the staff that I was surprised at how I barely had to wait at all, the sweet little girl behind the counter said, "Hmmm, yes it is strange. We've been crazy busy all day. You had perfect timing, an unusual Saturday for sure."

I would go in to how that statement verified what I already knew had been a two day lesson in synchronicity, but I don't want to cause a snoozefest with the details. Just take my word that sometimes, life is a wondrous thing.

As for the actual visit, I went in expecting to hear what I've always been told by eye doctors, that my vision is passable, that a weak prescription would be helpful while driving or watching t.v. and maybe to ease computer eye strain. Sure.. I know as you get older, things tend to go downhill a bit, but when the good doc smiled and told me I could use bifocals I nearly fell out of the chair.

I reckon going 15 years between eye exams isn't an advisable thing to do.

He said I could get by with the distance adjusting prescription for maybe another year, but he was confident I wouldn't make it any longer than that. He wrote it both ways, I got the "so I won't see monkeys while driving" glasses for now, but I can go back and get the "pass me the Geritol and pull up a rocker" set with the same prescription. He said it like... when I'm ready to accept the fact that I can't see and need them.

I'm seriously reconsidering my decision to stop coloring my hair. Suddenly I'm not feeling so spry and perky.

I know.. I should stop whining. Most of my family have had to wear corrective lenses since childhood and one or two cousins have had to endure eye surgery when they were just wee little things. I'm just a little surprised is all.

I got the $99 frames, but I'm not going to say how much I ended up walking out of there spending. When I discovered that these weren't going to be "once in a while" glasses, I splurged a little and got something I could live with long term.

Thank goodness for tax refunds.

Enough of my whining, in other news...

The big news around town is the deconstruction of the pub. Ya'll may remember that the pub owner died in a car accident, coming back from Big City on election night. There's been alot of assumptions and speculation about what was going to happen to the property, the building has stood for a long, long time. I can remember walking back through town from the old movie theater with Ma, after seeing "The Frogs" and having to leave in the middle 'cuz Ma got freaked out. We stopped at the cafe that used to be housed in the same building where the pub later opened for business.

I was six years old at the time and had already developed an unrestrained mouth. I announced to the entire cafe that we had to leave 'cuz Ma got scared, leading to roars of laughter and the first of many firm talking tos on learning not to be quite so quick to share information with the masses.

I've never really gotten the hang of that.

Anywho... the old building is being torn down and rebuilt, but because it sits in a flood plain, it's taking some redneck ingenuity to git r' done. According to town gossip, if the whole structure ever comes down, it can't be rebuilt, so rumor has it that the new owners are taking down the roof and three walls and rebuilding them before replacing the remaining wall, effectively tiptoeing all around the whole "flood plain" problem.

That's how we roll down here in the holler.

Here around the trailer...

Me and the Amazon have decided to have a veggie garden this year. Ya'll may remember last year when we attempted to grow some stuff in containers. After buying pots, potting soil and seeds, that little investment ended up yielding one, tiny, premie lookin' cucumber... which we fed to the wild bunnies.

Not to be out done, this year we're having a big chunk of the yard tilled up, where we'll attempt to grow something edible. I'm hoping that by putting the garden in the same spot where Granny used to have hers, there might be a little spiritual intervention, maybe a little ancestral nudge, to help things along.

I'll take any help I can get.



This is the future home of the garden project. I'll keep ya'll posted on the progress. If I never mention it again, you'll know it turned in to a giant clusterfuck.

I have to admit, I'm almost as excited to get the ground tilled up as I am to attempt to grow a garden. The area you see is also the area where our most treasured ancient tribal artifact was found, a large, arrowhead shaped tool, first thought to be a dirt clod. I have a few odds and ends I've picked up around the yard and I'm positively giddy at the thoughts of getting in there with a hoe and playing archaeologist.

Yes, I'm weird. Just accept it.

I guess that's all for today. If you need me, I'll be walking around the house admiring all the newly discovered cobwebs and dustbunnies.

The house seemed alot cleaner when it was all a blur.

Ya'll enjoy your day and I'll be back when I can grab a minute or two in my suddenly, hectic schedule.

Later Taters!

Monkeys, Glasses and a Fashion Faux Pas

Ya'll must be thinkin' I've gone and fallen off the face of the earth. Rest assured that I'm still around, it's just that the new, shorter hours at the Asylum, combined with a sudden surge in business means that now, I go in and hit the ground running. There are some days that I can barely find the time to go tinkle.

A girl should be able to tinkle when she's gotta.. ya know?

Week after next is Bossman's mandatory week off without pay. I will be the lone, solitary sales ninja, yet still only working 32 hours. I can't get it all done now, with him there. Things are fixin' to get mighty hairy.

This past week, sometime in between running around like a crazy person and explaining to five different men in the USAF that I can't go to upstate N.Y, climb on their rooftop and measure their equipment (insert your own jokes please.. I'm tired) I came to the conclusion that I really need to go have my eyes checked. If I move any closer to the television, no one else will be able to walk through the living room and the Amazon is getting tired of scenes like this:

Me, driving across Pecan Mountain on a winding, curvy road: "Dang! Is that a monkey with a cowboy hat?"

Amazon: "What? Watch where you're going. LOOK AT THE ROAD!"

Me, pointing: "By the road, it's a statue of a monkey in a cowboy hat. How cool!"

Amazon: "Where? What? THAT'S A ROCK AND A PAPER BAG!"

Me: "Ohhh.. dang. Looked like a monkey."

Amazon: "For the love a' God, Ima need for you to get your eyes checked."

I don't have any cash, but I did my taxes and there's a refund coming, so I'm going to take my Amex, head to LensCrafters and get my head examined eyes checked.

That's right. I'm going to the mall for my eye care.. proving that I really am still a city girl at heart.

Plus, I can get an eye exam there on a Saturday, I won't have to make a second trip to Big City in a couple of weeks to pick glasses up and they're running a $99 special.

I feel a little frivolous going all willy nilly, spending money I don't have on something I've managed this long without. I know.. it's a health thing and I shouldn't feel that way, but I do. In my head I have to justify it, so I just think about how due to the "lackaforkin" in the family tree, "lazy eye" runs in both sides of my family, Ma's been legally blind in one eye for as long as I can remember and I've not had them checked in like.. 15 years.

I'm fairly certain I'll need glasses. I had them before, when I was in high school. I got out of the habit of wearing them for a while, then got a prescription for more when I worked at the bank over in Scary Hillbilly Town. The Amazon was just little then, but had the fashion sense to inform me that they were too big for my face and Oh Em Gee couldn't I find something a little less ginormous?

Naw.. she didn't make me self conscious AT ALL.

So unless, by some miracle my eyesight has improved once I passed the magical age of forty, I'm pretty sure I'm coming out of there with some specs. The Amazon is coming with me, to assure that I don't commit another fashion faux pas... Gawd forbid.

There's lots going on in town that I'm just dying to tell ya'll about. I'll try to get us all caught up soon. Ya'll hang in there.

Later Taters!

Like the Proverbial Beheaded Fowl

Oh my gawd the busy. The Asylum is insane... go figure.

For those of you keeping score, I slept like a rock last night. You would think I'd be feeling as fresh as a bright, yellow daisy this morning. You would be incorrect. I feel like I've been trampled by a herd of wild, rabid squirrels.

Go ahead.. laugh.. but rabid squirrels are a serious threat to modern society and will eventually cause the downfall of civilization as we know it.

When it happens, I'll try to fight the urge to say "I told you so."

Anywho...

Here at the trailer, the thick odor of kerosene fills the air. Ma ordered heating oil yesterday because apparently, the voices have told her that March is blizzard month here in the holler. The little pip squeak who delivered it was new and his inexperience became evident as he sprayed kerosene on the side of the house and down the side of the barrel before finally hitting the hole.

If he's married, I'll bet ya $20 he doesn't have any kids. The dude had serious issues getting hose "A" into hole "B" before shooting it off.

During my last trip to the Wonderful World of Wally, I finally bought myself that slow cooker I was going to get myself for Christmas. I used it on Sunday to make BBQ chicken and holy pig nipples... was that some good stuff. I've not used it again yet, I've been surfing the internet for recipes. If ya'll have any awesometastic Crockpottery recipes to share, drop me an email.

I reckon I need to get my big butt back to the Asylum.. but then I get off in two hours. I've got like $12K in orders to enter. Not a bad day's worth of sales bookings.

We're going to get through this. We just all need to hunker down in survival mode.

Trust me.

Just watch out for the squirrels.

Later Taters!

Overheard 'Round the Trailer

Amazon: "Why are these gnats in here? Where are they coming from?"


Me: "I dunno, they're not in the rest of the house."


Amazon: "I keep killing them, they keep coming back."


Me: "They's zombie gnats."

~*~




Me: "If I don't remember to pick up some disposable razors soon, I'll be forced to change my name to Moonbeam and move to a commune."



~*~

I slept like.. 3 hours last night. My ability to form complete thoughts and build understandable sentences with words from the English language, should expire around noonish.

This is going to be a great day.

We'll talk again soon. Stay tuned.

Later Taters!

Welcome to the Milky Way

It's a crisp, cold Monday in Frog Pond Holler. We had snow yesterday, but the roads were clear this morning and there's just a thin, white blanket of crunchy winter crust on the ground.

The weekend was quiet and peaceful, for the most part. I did have an epiphany of sorts though, I figured out why I hate Wal-Mart. It's not the bad publicity, the sucky service or even the crowds. It's the fact that every single person in that store, regardless if they're working or shopping, looks miserable as hell.

It probably wasn't wise of me to announce that fact, loudly and with no regard to the size of the crowd milling around me as I stood talking to one of the Amazon's childhood friends back in the dairy department.

I got the hairy eyeball from about 20 different people at the same time.

I like to live on the edge.

~*~

This morning, after filling my thermossy thing, which isn't technically a "Thermos" but .. what the hell else are you supposed to call them? Sorry.. anyway.. after filling.. it.. with steaming hot coffee, I grabbed my spiffy, orange, collapsible Tupperware bowl (and yes.. it is actual Tupperware...pfffft) and filled it with Rice Krispies, adding a little sugar and popping the lid tightly in place. I poured milk in a separate, tiny bowl, with a screw on lid, made especially for transporting liquids, placed them both in a plastic bag, then tossed a banana in there, just in case.

When I got to my desk and got settled in, I opened the bag to find the little bowl empty and all the entire contents of the bag floating in a pool of milk.

Ew.

They sell little half pints of milk out in the Wheel O' Death, but that doesn't do you much good when you scrape the bottom of your purse, all your desk drawers and even go out into the snow to check the floor board of your truck, only to finally accept that you only have 15 cents in change.

Luckily, the donut fairy had visited the Asylum coffee pot this morning and left a bag of those tiny, chocolate covered gems to share. The Lord works in mysterious ways.

What? I ate the banana too. I'm still being health conscious and stuff.

Anywho.. I'm going to have a good day today. I hope you do too. I'm going to go dig that bag o' milk out of my trash can now and put it in someone else's before it starts hummin'.

Later Taters!