Quickies.. With a Bullet

Oh I'm slammed against a wall at the Asylum today.. and not in a good way. Let's do it bullet style.. and make it a quickie:

• My FMF continues to slap me around and call me it's biatch. I'm still doin' the snap, crackle, pop and my right shoulder has decided to toss in a little bump n' grind.. just to keep things interesting. And? Every spare moment I have away from work is spent either snoozing or trying not to.
• Still no ac at the Asylum. The latest line of bullshit to keep me quiet news is that the new units shipped last Friday, should be delivered no later than tomorrow and will be installed immediately upon their arrival. I will believe it when I see it.
• Bossman is going to be out of town next week on sales calls and the following week is his mandatory furlough. I will be flying solo for two weeks straight. There had better be some feckin' air up in this joint.
• Because of Bossman's schedule and this week having a holiday, I'll get three weeks straight of 38-40 hours pay. It's gonna be like Christmas.
• The demon kitten hopped in bed with me yesterday morning, rubbed her head against my face, purred, then crept under the quilt, snuggling up to me and going to sleep. Either she's finally becoming normal or it's an elaborate scheme to ease my suspicions so that she can continue her plans for world domination.

That's all for this quickie list.. but I think we're caught up. Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Uncle Mullet, Riding Ponies and Baking Cakes

Some people weren't into bikes this weekend, preferring the old fashioned way of getting around.

Aunt Moses called Ma yesterday, telling her to get some clothes on, brush her hair and go sit out on the porch, she was bringing something to show her. Luckily, I was on my way out the door to make a run to town, 'cause I had a pretty good idea of what the "something" was.

As I climbed in the truck, I saw Aunt Moses pull in behind me. There were two people in the cab of her vehicle, one I recognized immediately.

Uncle Mullet.

I knew he'd be in town. He considers himself part of the biker scene, although I'm pretty sure if he'd ever met any of the real bikers I ran around with in Ocean View, back in the day, he would have pissed himself with fear and curled up under the nearest barstool in the fetal position.

For those of you late to the game here at Hidden Mahala, Uncle Mullet was married for a long time to one of the few halfway normal acting people in our family. Unfortunately, he stayed drunk every weekend, when he was off from his railroad job.. just like his daddy did and slept around with every skanky ho from here to Boston.

He talked to my aunt like a dog and kept her having babies right up into her forties. He liked to point out to her how much nicer this cousin or that one looked than she did, they weren't fat.. why was she? And, oh my Lord, how she would do anything for him.. that's what sickened me the most.

She died two years ago after having repeated surgeries to correct the gastric bypass she'd had. Oh she lost weight... and her hair fell out.. she aged 20 years in five. Her body just finally couldn't take anymore.

So he got what he wanted.

He came by yesterday to show off his new, twenty-something, skinny wife. It made my stomach turn.

Anywho...

I had to stop at the ATM for Ma. When I got back to the truck, I saw this emerge from between two buildings:


While I question the judgement of anyone who'd go trail riding through Frog Pond Holler while there's a feckin' HARLEY RALLY going on, it was still cool to see.

I miss riding horses.

Ah well... someday.

I slept too long yesterday. It wasn't that "I think I'll close my eyes and take a mini nap" kinda over sleeping. It was the "I wonder if there's any instant coff.. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz" kinda sleep. I had to fight to make myself wake up at 1 o'clock. Once I came to life, I managed to get all the laundry caught up (a miracle.. believe me) and rearrange the bedroom. Oh and I baked the most beautiful, incredible tasting, pineapple upside down cake you've ever seen. I wanted to take a picture, but it's been pretty much slaughtered.

The Amazon said it looked like a Christmas ham. Don't worry.. I only threatened to whoop the snot out of her.

I've still got Rice Krispy joints this morning ("snap, crackle, pop") but not as bad as yesterday. I'm gonna take it easy, maybe work on some website junk today. I hope ya'll have an awesome Sunday.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Blooming Weeds and Good Deeds

It's cloudy and cool in Frog Pond Holler this Saturday morning. My wildflower patch is blooming (although the Amazon insists it's just flowery weeds,) I've spotted one Boy Scout troop hiking by the kitchen window and the air is filled with the sound of Harleys, with their gut rumbling roar reminding me of younger days.

Every year, during the big rally, I threaten to flag one down and ask for a ride. One of these days, I just might do it.

I woke up early this morning to the sound of ripping coming from somewhere around my bed. I peeked up over the covers to find the feline demon from hell precious kitty eating my foam mattress cover thingie.

I can not wait until we get this creature fixed. Lord help us all if it doesn't calm her down.. just a smidge.

I also woke up to a full blown FMF attack. It was like.. "Oh HAI! Remember me? You were almost feeling human again, I just thought I should stop by and remind you who's boss."

My hands are swollen and I'm hobbling around like Quasimodo.

Yes.. I know.. you're in awe of my sexiness. Try to control yourselves.

Oh yeah.. AND? I'm out of coffee. I found some instant mocha cappachino stuffed back in the cabinet. I don't know how long it's been in there. I couldn't find my tea kettle, so I mixed up a cup and stuck it in the microwave, which over flowed chocolate powdered goo all over everything.

This weekend is off to a rip roaring start.

Yesterday I stopped at the store during lunch to grab a drink. Inside, there stood a woman, around my age, with a very manly haircut. She was pointing to her brand new, ginormous Dodge Ram super dooper giant cab truck and explaining that she'd left it running, with her dogs inside and accidentally locked the doors.

Although she gave the impression of the type of woman who can handle any damn thing and take down three sailors in the process.. *wink* *wink*... she was obviously distraught over her puppies. Luckily she'd left her window cracked, her arms just weren't long enough to reach the door locky thing.

"Hold on, I think I've got one a long handled ice scraper in my truck.." I offered.

Suddenly I felt like a female hillbilly MacGuyver super hero.

I found the scraper, which is fabulously purple by the way and handed it to her. She climbed up on her little step, reached in and.. taa daa! She was in.

She handed me the scraper back, grinning, thanked me and said, "You are AWESOME! Girl you got it goin' on!"

Which cracked me up... but also made me feel pretty awesome.

Anywho...

I'd better get off my big bootay and get some stuff done. I can feel the drugs kicking in.. I can move my fingers and that giant sword has been removed from my lower back.

Gotta git while the gittin' is good. Ya'll enjoy your weekend. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Handy Dandy Mahala

It's been a crazy week in the land o' Mahala. My visit with the noggin Doc on Tuesday rattled my cage a little. I was thankful for the long drive from Big City back to the holler, to give me time to stop snifflin', snortin' and blathering incoherently.

Memory is a strange thing. One little sliver of recollection can lead to an avalanche of old emotions. It is amazing.

Also amazing? How a perfectly timed text message or call from a friend can bring you back to the present and snap you out of it.

Anywho...

I finally got one of the air conditioners installed yesterday. I went ahead and put one up in my room. Ma's will have to wait until the Amazon is off work, I'll have to move some furniture and do some excavating to get to the flippen window.

Can you say Pack Rat?

I thought the new unit had me whooped. After I assembled the little accordion side wing thingies, then wallered it down the hall, trying not to break the side wing thingies off in the process (a smart person would have put it together in the room where it was being installed,) moved my hope(less) chest out of the way, opened the window, removed a wasp nest and some mouse poop (I'm in serious danger of losing my Domestic Goddess Girl Scout badge) and shoved the tiniest little air conditioner they make giant monstrosity into place, I discovered that there was about an half inch of daylight shining around the bottom.

Nothing works right in trailers. Nothing fits like it's supposed to. Nothing.

While normal windows have a wooden sill where the air conditioner would sit flush and could be held in place with screws, trailer windows have aluminum tracks.

I sat there for a second, on my knees, sweating like sumo wrestler and trying to figure out what to do. I thought of getting a towel to fold up and put under it, but we're sorta running low on towels anyway.

Then, I remembered something that would work just as well.

So if you drive by a crappy little single wide in Frog Pond Holler and see a pair of old Wranglers sticking out from under the air conditioner on the end of the house, blow your horn and wave.

You might be a redneck...

Hey.. at least I got it done. Those jeans don't fit anyone in this house anymore anyway. And? I slept all night for the first time in weeks.

Time for me to get back to work. Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Free Drugs, Hot Gossip and Second Life

It's a hundred and fifty mutha feckin degrees bright and sunny in the holler this morning. The light breeze from my office fan cools the slight moisture forming on my brow and the trail of sweat running down my back side making the temperatures in the Asylum almost but just barely bearable.

The new air conditioner has been approved by corporate. Depending on who you ask, either some guy with a truck or a major appliance company will be here either the end of this week, the end of next week or the end of July to either put in a new system or pump the old one (illegally) full of freon.

I'm wearing tank tops, Lulu's wearing her short britches and Thelma's hair, which is normally wild and woolly lookin' has a strange, groomed quality I've never seen before. You can forget makeup.

Think.. "The Office" meets "Survivor" with a little "My Name is Earl" thrown in.

Back at the trailer, Ma has finally agreed to let me put a small ac unit in her bedroom. I made a beeline for Lowes before she changed her mind and picked up not one, but two of the smallest ones they carried. I couldn't really afford two, but with the lack o' air here at the Asylum and the sweltering temperatures, it sure did sound nice to lay down in a nice cool bedroom at night. I did some quick calculations in my head while I stood at Lowes, fixin' to put the second one in the cart. I'd just about talked myself out of it when I remembered I'd squirreled some extra away in savings.

I think I can make it work.

When I got them home and opened the first one to find the whole side of it bowed out where it had been squished, probably at the factory (the box was undamaged) I lost my composure. Ya'll remember last year when I bought the big one for the living room, that week when everything was dying, getting run over and breaking? Yeah.. I'm probably the only person in the world who can look at a smooshed air conditioner and end up sitting in the floor crying over her dead cat.

Naw.. I'm not nutty.. much.

I had to go to Big City yesterday for a follow up doctors appointment anyway, so I added returning the smooshed unit to my list of things to do while I was out. The doc gave me four more months worth of free "keep your daily crazies at bay" drugs and made sure I had enough "omg I'm gonna die from the heebie jeebies" drugs to last me a while, then sent me on my way.

I stopped for lunch, made a swing by the nail salon (I had to get all hookerlicious) then to Lowes where I exchanged the smooshed unit for a new one and over to Walmart to pick up Ma's peed-a-little pads and some Cokes.

I was tired by the time I got home ya'll.

After work today I head back to the noggin Doc.. only this time, I'm not nervous about it. I'm actually looking forward to it.. which.. I think.. is a good thing.

One a side note, I've been spending some time reviving my Second Life blog and I'm really proud of how it came out. I know most of ya'll aren't into that sort of thing, but if you wanna take a peek, it's over here. Be forewarned, it's not for the faint of heart or the easily offended.

Anywho, I'd better get to work. Ya'll take care and stay cool. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Everything Falls Apart, Eventually

It's gray and cloudy outside my kitchen window this morning. The scanner is going wide open with chatter from fire crews up Fall Branch as they work to control a burning shed full of building supplies, the home owner's livelihood. The Amazon is at work and I'm just trying to figure out why in the crap I've already been up an hour and it's only 8 o'clock.

The Big Headed German called me from the other plant yesterday. He must not have had much to do, because he kept me on the phone forever, discussing his recent doctor visit to have some skin tags removed. He went into great detail about the size, shape and coloring of the skin tags and felt I needed to know their precise location on his body.

I'll spare ya'll the details.

He went on for some time about how as you get older, you get alot of new stuff cropping up all over your body like age spots, freakish growths and curly black hairs where they don't belong. He also pointed out that he was "so old he farts dust" and then kindly reminded me that we were within months of being the exact same age.

It's good to have friends, ya know?

I'm taking it easy this morning, while I can. After the Amazon gets home, I'm going to run to the new Lowes, next to the new Wal-Mart to pick up two small, room sized air conditioners. I'm hoping the trailer windows will support the littlest units on their own. If I have to figure out how to start installing bracing hardware and crap, we're in trouble. Also? The screen door came off the back of the house. Just the bottom hinge... but still.. it just like.. fell out of the frame work. So I'm gonna pick up some of that wood putty stuff that comes in a little can. Hopefully I can use it to put the couch back together too.

Anybody who's read here for any length of time knows I suck at home repairs.

Let's hope there aren't any casualties.

Ya'll enjoy your weekend. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Opie, Ellie and the Big Secret

Bossman is in the conference room having a three-way... um.. call, so I've got time for a quickie.

My first visit with the noggin doc last night went well. Her office is in a little stucco house with tiny gardens, gargoyle statues and frolicking squirrels. It reminded me of one of those cheesy Thomas Kincade paintings.. with less cheese.

She serves hot tea with her sessions, which take place in facing Victorian, wing backed chairs and a shared stool between them. There is an abundance of tissue at arms reach.

I have a feeling I'll be visiting that little stucco house for a while.

I dropped the Amazon off at the new, ginormous Wally World on the way, a behemoth of a store with four entrances. I had planned to check it out when I returned to pick her up, but I found her sitting in front of the store with her cart full of goodies.

We even got free junk ya'll! From the pharmacy.. I had her get my crazy pills prescription refilled while she was there and they gave her two big water bottles filled with sample sized stuff.

After she got in the truck she told me she ran in to Opie, Lulu's youngin. Everyone down here in the holler swells with pride when they talk about how Opie's got him a job down at that big, new Wal-Mart.

Anywho..

Opie's little girlfriend, Ellie, was hanging out, checking out the festivities (it was Grand Opening day) so Opie introduced her to the Amazon when they ran into each other.

Before I go on, there's something I need to explain. As most of ya'll know, I lie all over the innerwebs use a pen name when I write, mostly just to protect my big butt from buckshot as I drive through Frog Pond Holler. Bubbles' Bubbahubby always brings home something big and hairy when he goes on his yearly Montana hunting trips. I don't want to be next.

I was named after my two grandmothers and for that reason, I'd never consider changing my given names, but I'd just rather not have the middle one be common knowledge. I'm sure it was a fine name, back in the day, but now it conjures up visuals of The Flintstones, 1960's comedic actresses and tiny, old, Jewish women.

Lulu, being family and all, even though she tries to deny it, found out my middle name and has called me by my full name since. I'm not real sure why I let her get away with it, I reckon because I rarely see her outside of work and as long as the information was contained in some way, it wasn't that bad.

Well..

When the Amazon met Ellie down at the Wal-Mart, Opie explained that his mother worked with the Amazon's mother.

"Wait," asked Ellie,"who's your mother?"

"Mahala," the Amazon said as she beamed with pride to be associated with such a goddess-like being said.

"Ohhh Mahala *insert hideous middle name here*?" she asked.

"Oh n-no.. " Opie stuttered, "hush Ellie.. "

The Amazon, filled with good ol' shock and awe said, "Oh. No. You. Dint," as she pointed at Opie. "My mama's gonna kill you!"

"C'mon Ellie.." Opie cried, tugging on her arm, "flee .. flee to Housewares... LIKE THE WIND!!"

As they disappeared among the bath towels and table cloths, Opie could be heard yelling back to the Amazon, "T'weren't me who told.. IT WAS MAMA!!"

The Amazon and I laughed all the way back to the holler. I tried to come in this morning and pretend to be mad, but I couldn't do it with a straight face.

Lulu, by the way, has no recollection of ever telling Ellie my secret. I think Opie just got scared and offered his poor old ma up for sacrifice.

Ain't that just like a youngin?

Anywho...

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

Later Taters!

River Rescue and Recovered Trucks

Let's get caught up on all the news fit to repeat in and around Frog Pond Holler:

First, the stolen ambulance was located south of the border. No.. not Mexico.. South Carolina.. at a mental hospital. If I'd known, I could've hitched a ride. That's all I know about it at the moment, well.. other than I've been warned not to mention it to the wife of the paramedic on duty when the truck went missing. Apparently she's on the warpath with everyone in town ribbing her about it.

I'll keep ya'll informed.

The VFD has been busy plucking city folk out of the river this summer. Everyone in town was all in a wad when one call came in from the spa. The attendants reported they heard children screaming from the river, but they couldn't see them. An army of firemen, EMTs and.. well hell.. everyone in town.. went flying down there to see what they could do.

When they arrived, they found a canoe with two women, who must have sounded very childlike to the spa employees as they screamed for help. The VFD dropped their Wal-mart inflate-a-boat nautical rescue equipment into the water so shallow you could walk across wild rapids and pulled the women to safety.

There was some confusion over what exactly they needed help with, sometimes it's hard to keep up with the facts when you're sitting at home, in the ac, listening to the scanner.

"Tell the ambulance to step it up! She says she can't feel her legs," an excited first responder yelled into his radio.

Good thing this didn't happen yesterday, I can just imagine the dispatcher yelling back, "Tin fo-er, just as soon as we find it."

Anywho...

Soon after, my neighbor John Boy Jr. showed up on the scene. He's the fire chief, the mayor, the guy you call when your toilet backs up and can usually be found sitting at the dinner, hopped up on his 19th cup of sludge coffee at any given moment. He's got time to do all those things because he doesn't have to work. He gets a check every month since he hurt his back.

*cough*

"Cancel the truck, she's alright. They just went and got in some prickly weeds. We'll get 'em some callermine, they'll be fine," John Boy said.

I'm pretty sure that even if the canoe occupants had suffered something more severe, gazing upon the toothless, hairy face of John Boy Jr., all five foot nothing and wearing the same Bicentennial t-shirt he bought at the flea market three years ago that he's always wears on calls.. the one with the blood stains.. would be enough to cause anyone to have a miraculous recovery.

Ah well, I'd best get a move on. We'll get caught up on everything else in a day or two. Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

Newsflash From the Holler

*********BREAKING NEWS********
Frog Pond Holler-Late last night, when the ambulance crew showed up for shift change, they were shocked to find the truck bay, where the ambulance was normaly parked, empty. Upon entering the crew sleeping area, they found the previous shift crew sound asleep in their bunks.

Somebody done went and stole the ambulance.

I shit you not.

Details as they develop.

Bluegrass, Paleface and Pleasant Memories

The sun is shining bright down upon the holler his morning as the hillfolk, the hikers and the tourists recover from yesterday's music festival. The yearly celebration began a few years ago as an event to raise funds and awareness to stop plans to clear cut one of the mountains that provides a picturesque back drop for Frog Pond Holler. The plan was successful and the festival lives on, filling the spacious lawn fronting the spa with tents, stages, vendors and lots of naked dancing babies.

I didn't go but the Amazon walked down there after work. I stopped and picked her up on the way back from the grocery store. Miss Paleface walks by a picture of the sun and gets burned, even with sunscreen, so she was rolling in aloe gel after she got home last night.

I don't know how the Blackfoot, Cherokee, Basque and Melungeon genes all skipped over her. She seems to have gotten a triple dose of the Scottish, Irish vanilla blend, like Ma. Fair skin and big blue eyes.

Go figure.

Anywho...

I was thankful I was on anti-public-freak out meds when I walked in the grocery store last night. They put in two more rows of freezers, moving everything around in the process and I couldn't find a feckin' thing. Ever since that incident in the parking lot with the sperm donor, six months after facing him at Mamaw's funeral, I break out in a sweat every time I buy groceries there, usually developing the herky jerks by the time I get to the check out and bawling all the way home.

Yeah... there's been alot of crap going on with me that I've not shared with ya'll.

Since visiting the good doc a couple of weeks ago and coming home with the magical brown paper bag, it doesn't happen anymore. I can go to the store without going all ratshit crazy. I can drive by my cousin's big house on the hill with all her horses, Mamaw's little double wide at the bottom and my Aunt Ola's house beside it and not expect the sperm donor to materialize out of thin air and come after me.

Instead, I can remember Mamaw on that front porch, always smiling, breaking beans and talking to her little dog. Memories of me and my cousin when we were little girls, running through that field where her horses now graze, she and her sister laughing at their fat city cousin getting her polyester pants stuck on the barbed wire as she tried to follow them across the hill to Mamaw's old house.

And I might still shed a tear. But it's different. It's okay.

In other news... Bossman will be back this week and I'll be getting off at three every day.. which just pisses him off even more. I'm really not looking forward to his tantrums. My big appointment with the noggin doc is this Wednesday.

I'll let ya'll know how that goes.

Ya'll have a great week. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

More Drama than a Soap Opera

I smiled to myself as I made the drive through Frog Pond Holler, on my way to the Cubicle Asylum this fine morning. Fall Branch rushed under the bridge, a result of all the rain they had in Big City over night. Miss Plemmons, a retired school teacher, paused to admire the wild, foamy water while taking her corgi on his daily walk, trotting along on nubby little legs, his tongue dangling from the corner of his mouth. He looked like he wanted to dive right in.

The mountain peaks surrounding our tiny town were draped in wispy white mist, like giant cotton balls, stretched thin and gently tossed in the air, landing gracefully in place. The effects are slightly different every day, the Universe sending the sunlight to wipe the surface clean before painting a brand new picture the next morning.

Ahhh... Friday.

It's been an eventful week here in the holler. Remember the new equipment over at the Pump n' Go? The other day, the Amazon's former boss, the Salvation Army preacher, was fillin' his tank and ran inside to pick up some snacks, leaving the pump on. When he came back out, he hopped in the van and left.

With the pump still running.

Lawd have mercy. The resulting spray of gasoline made the Pump n' Go look like that Bellagio fountain out there in Las Vegas. I know because I caught a glimpse of the Bellagio as we whizzed past it in the airport taxi-van-thingie on the way to my crappy hotel, nestled between an adult book store and the open desert when I went to Vegas a couple of years ago.

After all the drama subsided, the owner of the Pump n' Go shook his head and laughed as he told the Amazon, "I kain't have nuthin!" The Amazon, anxious to share the story, called her friend, The Gritlet, who was also a professional Christmas season ding-a-ling for the S.A., just knowing she'd find the whole story hilarious.

But the Amazon was mistaken. She hadn't considered the fact that The Gritlet, who now works in a clerical capacity for the S.A., would be the one who'd have to deal with the insurance and other assorted red tape associated with getting the pump repaired.

General Hospital ain't got nothin' on Frog Pond Holler.

Thank heavens this week is almost in the can. I've got a hot date planned with a box of hair color and an adventure outing among the hillfolk at the grocery store.

Which is probably all the excitement I can handle in one weekend.

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

Later Taters!

Uncle Duckie, Civil War and Humpin' it Hard

Lawd have mercy. It must be Hump Day 'cuz this little muffin's been humpin' it hard all morning. People are merciless in their demand for robot monkeys.

I hereby declare it time for a brain break.

Anyhooter...

On a serious note, I want to extend my heartfelt gratitude to all ya'll who commented on my post yesterday, blog buddies, Plurkies and Second Lifers. Your words do make a difference. Ya'll make my world a brighter place and I love ya for it.

Honest.
~*~

There was drama down at the Pump n' Go over the weekend. Frog Pond Holler was invaded by a group of Civil War re-enactment enthusiasts and when the Amazon was caught selling a bottle of water to a Union soldier she was damn near fired.

Jokingly.. of course. We think.

I didn't bother attending the festivities, a bunch of people in old clothes, riding horses and shooting each other just sounds like one of our family get togethers.. right down to the cannon fire.

No.. seriously.

Back a few years ago, Ma had the bright idea to let her brother set up his camper in our yard for a whole summer. Every Saturday around sundown, Uncle Duckie and his brood would gather 'round the campfire.. in our front yard.. and set off the tiny cannon that used to belong to the university. Apparently it was part of the half time entertainment.. and loud enough to be heard by an entire football stadium.

IN MY FRONT YARD

My Uncle Duckie and his brood are no longer speaking to us.. I may or may not have had a minor freak out fit on his hillbilly hind end right out in the yard in front of all of Frog Pond Holler.

*cough*

Anyways... The Amazon took pictures of the civil war acting people and I had every intention of posting them, but I've had stuff on my mind. I've been just a tad bit scatter noodled.

Tiny just went down the hall and gave me the wiggly eyebrow. I'd better get back to work.

Ya'll have a humptastic Hump Day.

Later Taters!

I'm So Not Ready for This

I've been walking around for two weeks with a list of noggin doctors in my purse. I just couldn't get up the nerve to call and ask for an appointment. Calling would mean sitting in a room with a complete stranger and reliving shit that happened 30 years ago. It would mean facing everything I've worked so hard to avoid my entire life and it would mean he won. In my head, it would mean giving up and admitting I'm one screwed up individual.

But yesterday, I called. I left a message and half hoped no one would call me back.

This morning, the noggin doc specializing in my specific flavor of childhood trauma returned my call. My appointment is next Wednesday.

I am scared beyond shitless.

After I hung up the phone, a severe case of the herky jerks set in, tears started flowing and I had to take the "extra" pill. You know, the one for when the daily pill isn't enough and I start to lose my noodle right here in front of God and everybody.

I've become my Aunt Gail. I can still remember her sitting at her kitchen table, her forehead supported by one hand, a Bloody Mary in the other and a Salem burning in the ashtray as she yelled to my cousin, "Honeee.. bring me a Valium.. Mama needs a pill!"

I guess the nut job doesn't fall far from the tree.

Anywho.. ya'll have a good one. I'm trying not to think about the perspiration that's forming in the various nooks and crannies of my body.

At least I'll spend the day medicated.

Later Taters!

Mr. G and the Foxtrot

I swear to peaches, it's 150 feckin' degrees up in this office and I'm already starting to feel a little crotchety.

It's not even 8:30 yet.

I hope I don't see anyone I want to impress today, the lack of spackle and paint makes me look half dead.

And the hair. We won't even go there.

I didn't have time to do any serious coiffing nor applying of war paint before I left the house this morning. Mr. G woke me up around 3 a.m., nudging me rudely as he whispered his sweet nothings:

Mr. G: "Ohhhh zeee ma'dam, she has forgotten moi. Wake up my leetle cabbage and we will do zee tango and zee fox trot like zee old times!!"

Me: "Dude.. seriously? I'm not in the mood. Bossman is off this week. I have to rest. I don't have time for your nonsense. Settle your little ass down and go back to sleep."

Mr. G: "I weel not be ignored mon chere'! Wake up! We weel tip toe through zee tulips and tap dance like zee Sammy Davis Jr.!"

I ended up sleeping on the couch, which I may not have mentioned, is broken. It's closer to the bathroom... just in case. I woke up again around 5 a.m. to the kitty munching down on my hair.

It's going to be a long day. I'm going to try to make the best of it.

Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

Valkyrie, Mistaken Identities and the Face of Evil

It looks like we're in for a beautiful day here in Frog Pond Holler. The birds are singing, the sun is shining and I just saw a pickup truck full of half nekkid hillfolk with inner tubes and a cooler heading down towards the creek.

The natives are restless.

I will not be participating in any creek splashing. I don't do creeks. Snakes swim in creeks. Ew. Now.. put me in the ocean where the critters are alot bigger and the water is way deeper and I'll swim all day without a care in the world.

I never claimed to be normal.. or rational.

Anywho...

It's been a pretty uneventful week here in Mahalaville. At the Cubicle Asylum, Bossman pitched no less than six hissified, spoiled little girl fits, Lulu talked smack about Thelma and PG only tried to get Lulu to sleep with him once. Business seems to be picking up, but what do I know? Everytime I say that, they lay someone else off or cut our hours.

I did find out we're getting a new 15K air conditioner in the coming weeks.When I told the Amazon she said, "Oh really? And who's getting fired to pay for that?"

Smart kid. I hope it's not me.

Here at the trailer, it's been pretty quiet... other than occasional outbursts of violence from the tiny kitty.

The other day, me and the Amazon watched Valkyrie, which I really liked. I'll admit I'm not crazy about Tom Cruise and while I tried to keep an open mind regarding his performance, I have to say I don't think his facial expression changed once through the entire movie. He looked like a totally emotionless robot.

Eddie Izzard's performance was excellent, as were those of the rest of the cast. I was a little distracted by all the famous faces that kept popping up, which became evident about halfway through the movie:

Me, pointing at the t.v., gesturing excitedly: "Oooo!! That's.. that's.. you know.. THAT GUY!!"

The Amazon, giving me the "I'm trying to watch a movie" stink eye: "Who? What guy?"

Me: "Oh crap! What the hell is his name? You know.. the guy who's like.. British and a comedian, but he's always in drag... you KNOW!!!"

The Amazon: "Eddie Izzard. You knew he was in this, that's why you wanted to see it. Remember? Ima need you to go get your medication checked."

Me: "NO dammit! Not him.. the other guy. He had a talk show, but as a woman, not here, over THERE somewhere."

The Amazon: "Eddie Izzard never had a talk show."

Me: "NOT EDDIE IZZARD! Dammit.. what's her name? She had a title.. barroness.. princesss.. no that's not it.. ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!"

The Amazon: "Can we please just watch the movie?

Me: "Yeah, okay."

By then, I was completely lost. It took me a while to get caught back up to the plot and I was only half way paying attention anyway, too busy obsessing over the name of the actor I'd spotted seated during a crowd scene.

Me, recognizing actor Tom Wilkinson: "Hey! Isn't that the dude who was in that movie with Jessica Lange? You know.. the one where he reveals, after years of marriage, that he wants to be a woman?"

The Amazon: "I think so, yeah."

Me: "I'm sensing a pattern here."

The Amazon: "Mama... "

Me: "Yeah okay, I'm shutting up."

My mind started to wander again as I watched Tom Cruise fondle his fake eyeball for the third time. We kept hoping his wife would take a peek under that big eye patch and run away screaming.

Me: "DAME EDNA!!! THAT'S who that was!"

The Amazon, glaring at me from across the room: "Who?"

Me: "You have GOT to be kidding me. Dame Edna, she had a talk show on BBCA, but she's really a he but man, she is SO funny."

*crickets chirping*

The Amazon: "I don't know who that is, but now that you've figured it out, can we PLEASE. JUST. WATCH. THE MOVIE?"

Me, sighing: "Yeah.. okay."

It really was a good film, I'd never heard the story before and while I'm not usually a fan of historical dramas, I got caught up in the story line. I will have to watch it again, I missed some bits and pieces. I didn't, however, enjoy seeing Eddie Izzard get his ass kicked. I was ready to hop in Jolene and go pummel some Nazi bootay.

Right when it got to the exciting bit, towards the end, while everyone's in a wad trying to figure out if Hitler is really dead, I kept my eyes focused on the t.v. and said:

"Isn't that the dude from Love Actually?"

The Amazon: "I dunno. Hush."

Me: "I'm pretty sure I've seen him in a wig before."

The Amazon: "Oh my gawd would you stop already?"

Me: "I'm just sayin'"

Anywho.. ya'll have a great weekend. I ran to civilization last night, got the nails did and made all the other pit stops I needed to make. I'll probably run to the dollar store later for some bandaides, I used the last one this morning.

I was curled up on the couch under a blankie, sipping coffee and watching the morning news, when someone decided to curl up under there with me, acting all sweet and cuddly, right before she went all apeshit and clawed the bat snot out of my left butt cheek.




The Face of Evil

Oh and by the way, I looked it up and the actor who plays Dame Edna? Was totally not in Valkyrie. And he's Australian, not British. And the dude from Love Actually? He wasn't either.

But I'm not tellin' The Amazon.

Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

Medicating Evil

It's raining.. again. I'm gonna start sprouting mushrooms on my shady bits if this keeps up much longer.

The Amazon took the demon possesed hell cat tiny kitty to the vet yesterday for more shots. Tiny Kitty isn't happy when she gets shots. They sent home some medicine for her to take over the next three days (for that condition that all puppies and kittens get, but I'm not going to name because it's gross and I just ate a biscuit from the campground store and I don't want to hurl eggy bits all over my cubicle.)

Now, at first thought, the idea of putting liquid medication in a syringe to make it easier to shoot into their tiny mouths seems like a grand idea. But when you advance towards the face of a psycho freak job frightened kitty, who is still upset over her shots from earlier in the day, with a filled syringe she will seemingly grow five more legs which she'll flail about, shrieking like a tortured soul, trapped for eternity in the depths of hell and IF you are lucky enough to actually get any of the medication in to her mouth, she will spit, hiss and shake her head violently, sending a spray of thick, white liquid all over the poor shnook holding her (in this case, the Amazon) while simultaneously ripping her claws into delicate shoulder flesh.

Yeah.. that did not go well. And? We get to do it two more times.

I'm so glad it's Friday ya'll. I'm gonna run out to civilization after work and get my nails did and pick up something for din din, then I'm kicking back for the weekend. I have to recharge my battery, Bossman is off next week (wasn't he just off?) so I'll be playing sales ninja.

Ya'll have a great one. We'll talk again soon!

Later Taters!

Eskimos, Frozen Peas and Peeons

I promised myself that I wouldn't subject all of you to another summer full of my whining and bellyaching over the lack o' air conditioning up in this office. I know ya'll have got to be tired of hearing the same old crap, year after year as I go on and on about under boob sweat, swollen ankles the size of tree trunks and my threats to show up at the Cubicle Asylum naked.

So I won't say anything about the fact that it's broken again. Or that the humidity is so high that I fully expect a storm cloud to go rolling by at any moment.

Some friends suggested I stick bags of frozen peas in my bra to cool the girls. It sounds absurd at 9:00 a.m., but by around twoish? It starts to sound like pure genius.

Aside from that ventilation issue that I've promised myself not to mention, the Peeon Brigade.. me, Lulu and Thelma.. have been staying in pretty good spirits. We've been broke for so long now that we just laugh it off and make the best of it. The management staff, however, have developed a wee bit of an attitude problem. They stomp around, pout, complain and pitch whining fits to put any toddler to shame.

Yesterday, I threatened to put PG (Purchasing Guy) in time out. The rest of the Peeons found it hilarious. PG.. did not.

Go ahead.. ask me if I give a rat's patootie.

Meanwhile, back at the trailer...

The little kitty is growing like a weed. If she ever fills out to match her freakishly long legs, she's going to be the size of a mountain lion. She's already got the personality. Someone approached the Amazon at the Pump n' Go the other day and gently implied that the cuts and scratches on her forearms looked like those of girls you see documentaries about, the ones who cut themselves. She tried to convince the well meaning lady that it was just the work of her hyper active kitten, but I think she still had her doubts.

The kitten, whom the Amazon calls Rory, but I choose to refer to as Scratchy McEvilbritches, attacks Yoda repeatedly, leaping from furniture, the fireplace mantle or the top of the refrigerator, wrapping her paws around his neck and wrestling his short, little round body to the ground, then taking off running through the house like her tail's on fire.

I try to hide the tears of laughter as I console the poor little dog.. but it ain't easy.

Anywho...

I'd better get my nose to the grindstone. It's Humpday ya'll. Hump it like an Eskimo on a Hawaiian holiday.

Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

Mondays, Mullets and Modernization

Have you ever spent an entire weekend doing absolutely nothing productive? Well, that was my weekend. Around nine last night it dawned on me that I hadn't bothered getting dressed.

I'm such a slacker.

It doesn't matter though, I'm on thirty hours this week, leaving at three Monday through Friday. I'll have plenty of time to get stuff done.. at home anyway.

Everyone in town is all a buzz over the new gas pumps going in down at the Pump n' Go. I asked the Amazon if we could use our debit cards outside now and she said, "When I said they were modern pumps, I meant 1983 modern." The old ones had to be replaced because when gas prices skyrocketed last summer, they went beyond the numbers on the price dial on the pumps and you can't buy new ones anymore. I think the ones they had were the originals from 1962.. or whenever.

Lulu and I had a shock when we got to the Asylum this morning. Thelma's had the same frost n' tip mullet for at least 15 years now, but today it's dyed brown and coiffed.. sort of.. but still spiky in the back. I'm afraid to go in there and talk to her, worried I'll be too distracted and catch myself staring.

I hope she's finally realized that it's been time to let go of the mullet for about a decade.

Anywho... it's the first of the month so I can't enter any orders until accounting does their thing. I think I'm going to go attack the giant, leaning stack of closed orders that's teetering dangerously on the edge of my desk.

Ya'll have a good Monday.

Later Taters!