Pondering Boogers and Panic Attacks

It's early yet here at the Asylum. It's comfy cool in the office and I'm flaunting the girls in a low cut tank top.. just because. "Unforgiven" trickles out of my computer speakers, the sounds of Metallica gently rocking my mind into submission.

The Amazon kept the truck yesterday and ran to Big City, coming back with a new hole in her face. My little hippie spawn got her nose pierced. I'd like to pretend to be appalled that she'd do such a thing, but to be honest... I'd love to have mine done. She's got a little pink stone, just a tiny spot of bling sitting delicately upon her shnozzola.

Cute as hell, it is.

I had told her that I'd entertain the idea of getting mine done for my birthday, but when I saw the chunk of wire that's hanging in her nostril, I decided against it. What happens if you get a hard one way up in there that requires digital excavation?

Not that a delicate southern magnolia such as myself would ever do something like.. go digging up in her left nostril to dislodge a crunchy booger... but sometimes.. shit happens.

I've been looking at the magnetic kind, at least I can take it off if I need to.

This week's noggin doc appointment was a little rough. She asked me some hard questions that I struggled through, but I managed. I felt 100 pounds lighter when I left, so I guess it's working. I no longer dwell on what would happen if I were to run into my dad somewhere and I think I've figured out that the smell of chewing tobacco is one of the things that sets off the panic attacks. The other is greasy mechanic odors. Daddy wasn't a mechanic, but he worked on cars all the time.

The noggin doc and I have decided that the giant monster I've built up in my head is just a sad sick little man who can't hurt me anymore. I'm confident that if I were to see him today, I could just flip him off and offer a suggestion or two of the various things he could go do to himself and be done with it.

On the flip side of the crazy coin, Ma wandered in to the living room last night as I lay sleeping on the couch and accused me of having snuck a puppy into the house while she was asleep. Then she asked me which doctor I was seeing and wasn't I going to get any better? Ever? She then informed me that I looked like I was dying.

Why is it that everyone else in that house can nap their lives away, but the minute I try to take a nap, I'm at death's door?

It all stems from the stress she's feeling since Dubya's death. I'm certain.. she's feeling insecure and afraid everyone's going to leave her. The other night she insisted that I tell her where I was going on vacation.. and when was I leaving... towering over me, hands on hips.

Vacation? What the hell is that?

Anywho...

There's been a new development in the big hay rolling scandal. The in-depth investigation turned up a single flip-flop on the scene. One has to wonder if they plan on taking the flip-flop door to door, looking for it's match, Cinderella style.

I guess I'd better get to work so I can keep those 38 hours I'm allowed to work now. Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Crime Spree in The Holler

Oh there's drama unfolding at the Asylum this morning. We're expecting law enforcement to show up any time now. I hope he puts some shoes on this time... last time he showed up in his slippers.

It's nothing very exciting, someone just tried to roll our hay out of the field last night, a large bale of which got hung up in the pine trees. Had it not been stopped by the trees, it would have rolled right into the side of the lab, possibly tearing a hole in the side of the building.

These aren't bales of the cute little, toss 'em in the back of the truck variety. These are the big ass, you need a flatbed to haul them sized rolls.

There is evidence that a vehicle was used to push the rolls.. or at least get them started downhill, suggesting that someone got in past the gate. The official statement from the GM? "Security was breached at the front entrance. We have been compromised and we must take this threat very seriously."

Yeah.. that's right... some remedial terrorists who flunked out of Jihad school have been sent to Frog Pond Holler to steal all the hay.

Or...

Cletus and Romaine, having been laid off for the past six months and getting a little bored, got all liquored up on cheap whiskey and decided to wreak havoc on the hay field. Maybe.. they were so drunk they thought those big bales were cows on steroids and all they really wanted to do was tip a few, not realizing they'd go rolling down hill and damn near taking out a building in the process.

Or...

Bubbles, also having been laid off and finding herself broke.. even though her Bubbahubby has one really good paying job, two more part time jobs and their house is paid for.. but I digress... needed hay to feed her growing goat population and, feeling guilty for not contributing to the household, couldn't bring herself to ask Bubbahubby for money to buy hay. Deciding to put her box shaped SUV to use, she sneaks in up the old forest service road and tries to roll herself one big bale of hay down off the hill, giving it a good shove so that it can roll out the main entrance, jumping the gate, just as she exits the woods from the service road to intercept it, then pushing it all the way back out to her little country farm, ten miles outside of town.

Or...

There was another earthquake in the holler that was just strong enough to send the bales of hay rolling down the hill, but not strong enough to wake anyone up, thereby going unnoticed.

OR...

It was aliens who need hay to convert to fuel for their airships.. but while engaged in the theft of one of the bales, the captain alien spilled hot spooge (like coffee.. on planet Ziptron) on his left knee.. which is where alien reproductive organs are.. in case you didn't know... and lept to his feet.. all three of them... causing the airship to teeter and knocking the hay bale down the hill. This scared the behoodas out of him because he'd already been warned that if he had just ONE more spooge spillage related incident while piloting, he'd be suspended. With all those little spawn to feed, he couldn't risk losing his job, so he aborted the mission, making up some cock n' bull story about a one armed hillbilly farmer coming after him with a bazooka... just to cover his ass.

Man.. I can't wait for Deputy Jethro to get here so I can share my theories with him. He'll be so impressed.

In the meantime, ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Psycho Kitty and Miss Fixit

The sky looks blue-gray outside my kitchen window this morning. I think every dish, every piece of silverware in the tiny trailer is dirty. I'm out of coffee. I've got a sore throat, I've been sneezing for three days and I'm pretty sure I've caught the latest crud.

Still.. it's going to be a good day.

I got an early start yesterday, driving to Scary Hillbilly Town to pick up the psycho kitty from the vet. When we got home and I let her out of the crate, she immediately ran through the house, leaping from the floor, to the kitchen table to the top of the fridge, making my heart stop. The last thing the vet tech said to me before I left was "keep her quiet, don't let her jump around."

I'd just like someone to explain to me how I keep a six month old hyper psycho kitty "quiet."

I gave her some pain medication, not because she seemed to be in pain but because they said she needed it twice a day and honestly.. I was praying it would knock her crazy ass out for a little while. I was terrified she was going to rip her stitches out.

Unfortunately, the drugs just got rid of her pain and she didn't see any reason not to put poor Yoda in a choke hold and wrangle him to the ground. Luckily Yoda loves the kitty and will let her do anything she wants to him.

I may have to temporarily take up drinking again, at least until she gets her stitches removed.

Friday night I worked on the couch and, with the Amazon's help, was able to get the springs hammered back into place. I also replaced the torn ropey cord thing that tied them together with some duct tape... because I'm redneck like that, then cleaned out the stash of change, toenail clippings and french fries that had gathered in the hole that ripped in the fabric under the cushions.

Voila! Zee sofah... she iz like a'new!

Sorta.

Since I was on a handy dandy Miss Fixit roll, I also fixed my computer chair so that it would stop tossing me out in the floor and took the duct tape to Sammy's crate where he ripped the bars apart. Add in three loads of laundry, the vacuuming and attacking the accumulation of an assortment of unrelated items on the kitchen table and....

Now you know why the dishes didn't get washed.

And probably still won't.. not this morning at least. I'm tared.

I hope ya'll are enjoying your weekend. I think I'm gonna test that couch out for a little while this morning. We'll talk again soon!

Later Taters!

Friday With the Wango Tango

Put your feet up, grab some liquid refreshment and make yourself comfy while we get caught up on all the news worth repeating from Frog Pond Holler.

Around town:

The streets are still lined with tourists and hikers here in the holler, but there seems to be fewer this year. I'm not complaining, mind you. It's a pain in the butt to have to eat up 15 minutes of your lunch hour waiting for traffic when you can almost see your house from work, so fewer people means less aggravation for me. I'm sure the businesses in town aren't too thrilled though.

There's a new sandwich shop in town, with quesadilla, French dips and Greek salads. The Amazon has been stopping there often, one can only take so many hamburgers and greasy fries. It's nice to have an alternative.

Down at the spa, they've put up pretty, new, rustic looking gates at the entrance, with the words "World Famous" written in the scroll work. They've done alot of landscaping too, adding pretty flowers and little shrubs all around the campground store. It looks like they're getting old Frog Pond spiffed up for something. If I ever find out what, ya'll will be the first to know.

Here at the Asylum:

Bossman showed his little Yankee ass the other day, pitching a cussing fit and threatening to rip the head off little old Henny Penny over in accounting, then offering to "shit down her neck." He said all this to me, then went in his office, slammed the door and called her. I can only imagine what he said to her. Afterwards, he stomped up and down the hall, cussing and mumbling and jerking all over like he was gonna bust an artery.

He was mad because she used the company name our tax ID number is registered to and not what he wants the company name to be on a W-9.

No.. seriously. That's what he was having a freak out fit over.

Henny Penny's boss, the Big Headed German, is pissed. He is also the CEO's Golden Child. I have a feeling there's gonna be some waste matter hitting the fan when the GM gets back from Myrtle Beach.

And it's gonna splatter.

After lunch that day, Bossman's attitude had completely changed. He even laughed and joked around with everyone. His entire personality had done a 180° turn.

Then I got close to him while reviewing a print. And I smelled it.

Booze. Liquor. Firewater. Hooch.

Bossman was lit like a sailor on a three day pass.

Oh. My. Damn.

Things are fixin' to get hairy up in here. Hold on to your hats. I'll keep you posted.

Meanwhile, back at the trailer:

Ma seems to be doing okay. She was a little shook up over Dubya. They grew up together and were close to the same age. Considering her recent health scare, I think it rattled her cage a bit.

Over at the Dubya estate, Hoochie and Flossie have been seen avoiding each other, running in and out of the tiny gray house with an assortment of grand youngins milling about. I've seen at least three truck loads of trash go out of there, but you still can't see the porch.

The not-so-tiny psycho kitty is at the vet as I write this. Her appointment was this week, not last week. The Amazon just called from Scary Hillbilly Town to inform me that the kitty is having laser surgery, instead of the traditional slice and dice.

Who'd a thunk it?

Anywho..

I've been sick as a dog for the past few days. My gut's been doing the wango tango. I'll spare you the details... just buy stock in Charmin. I sat here yesterday alternately breaking out in a cold sweat, freezing my booty off then threatening to start peeling clothes. I got home last night with every intention of trying to fix the couch, but instead of fixing it, I curled up and went to sleep for two hours.

I've definitely picked up something buggy. I hope it's not the hamthrax. I'd hate to have to call in sick when I'm finally getting to work some decent hours.

I'm gonna go now and file some stuff. We don't want Bossman leaving anymore letters on my desk.

Ya'll have an awesometastic Friday!

Later Taters.

Crazy Old Geezer

Over the weekend, as Ma laid in her room hell bent on tearing up trying to figure out her new phone and as I spent chunks of my life I can never get back goofing off on the internet worked hard on new online projects, we were only halfway paying attention when the scanner announced a call for the VFD. Someone had been found, barely conscious and having run off the road down by the river. It was suspected that they'd had a stroke.

Neither of us thought much of it, our minds on other things, until the Amazon came in from work the next day to tell us that the person had died at the hospital the night before.

It was Dubya.

Some of you knew Dubya as my crazy old neighbor who lived with his bi-polar hooker step-daughter, who entertained clients in the camper out back for 40 bucks a pop. He was the source of a lot of stress, several angry outbursts.. and quite a few stories. So today, I thought we could remember Dubya and his antics by looking back at some of the posts I wrote about him over the past couple of years:

• Dreaming of Flossie
• A Peek At the Holler
• Dubya
• The Return of Dubya

Rest in Peace Walter. I hope heaven means all the Marlboros you want with none of the pain.

Monday Morning Quickies

Leave your shoes on.. this will be a quickie.

Bossman came in this morning cussing and stressing. By 8:30 he'd already caused me to break out in a cold sweat... complete with twitchy eye and the herkie jerks.

After a small chemical adjustment *cough* I calmed my little hiney down and walked back to his office and asked if he was ready to discuss my hours and what duties were expected of me.

I proposed that I work 38 hours a week (gotta get off at 3 on Tuesdays.. I need the noggin doc) with the understanding that if by Friday afternoon I find myself without enough work to keep me busy, I will leave early to save on payroll.

Bossman readily agreed.

Sweet holy moo cows. I am almost full time again. I can hardly believe it.

I promise I'll be back in a day or two to get ya'll caught up on all the news worth repeating from here in the holler. For now.. I'm up to my armpits in paperwork.

Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

Invasion Of The Kinfolk

It's a little cloudy in Frog Pond Holler today. It makes me a little nervous because all the kinfolk are gathering down at Moe Ray's picnic area for a family pow wow and if it gets rained out, I worry they'll all invade the tiny trailer and I'll have to take an extra nerve pill.

The Amazon was assigned the duty of making tater salad, the supplies for which were left in a plastic bag on the front porch at the butt crack of dawn.

Seriously... who gets up that early on a Saturday?

Oh yeah.. people who don't have to go to real jobs the rest of the week.

*cough*

I don't plan to join the festivities. If I took enough medication to be able to deal with Uncle Mullet (and the mini Mullets.. and their children,) my trashy big boobed cousin with the lazy eye, her new NY hubby.. well... you get the idea.. I'd be unconscious for a month. Although I'm helping with the tater salad and some deviled eggs, I intend to hide out here for the duration. Just the thought of being around them all gives me the heebeejeebies.

And honestly? While I do joke at their expense.. often.. it's really not them. It's me. It's just going to take a while to sort out all the reasons why.

Thank God for noggin docs.

In other news...

We had some excitement down at the Pump n' Go the other night. The Amazon sent me a text when she got to work Friday morning that there were blood splatters in the parking lot. They were the remnants of a fight the night before involving two hillfolk, one with a reputation for enjoying the chemical alteration of his mental state on a regular basis and another, normally respected member of the community who's daddy has a bad temper and is rumored to carry a loaded pistol.

The fight included a head beating with either a crow bar, a billie club or a baseball bat.. depending on who you ask and was over a girl. The blood in the parking lot was either from the head beating or an attempt by one of the hillfolk to bite the finger off the other... again.. depending on who you ask.

Regardless of the details, everyone in the holler famililar with the parties involved is sitting around waiting for Pistol Totin' Papa to pop a cap in Crack Head Carl's ass any day now.

It's gonna happen.

Anywho...

I'd better get started on some laundry. I'm down to two pairs of granny panties and the stretched out bra that doesn't really do anything to keep the girls off my knees.

Ya'll have a bootay kickin' weekend.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!

Friends Of Maddie

I like to check a few blogs each morning when I get to the Asylum, to give the coffee time to kick in and get my blood flowing. Until recently, when I'd spot a certain Mommy Blog on my feed reader, I'd skip over everyone else and open the link, hoping for more pictures of the sweet baby girl with the huge blue eyes and incredible smile. I'd always call Lulu over to my cubicle and we'd oooo and aaaah over little Maddie Spohr.

One day in April, I sat at my desk and opened that link, looking forward to seeing that smiling face, calling Lulu over to ooo and aaaah and learned that little Maddie had left this world suddenly.

My heart was shattered. It's strange how people who don't even know you exist can become a part of your daily routine. I didn't mention it here and other than one comment, I sort of tuned it all out. Whenever I allowed myself to even think about the pain her family was going through.. well.. it was just hard.

As ya'll know, sometimes something good can be born of awful circumstances. This morning I learned about friendsofmaddie.org, a non-profit organization established to provide support to the families of critically ill babies.

It sounds like the perfect way to honor the memory of such a happy little soul. Ya'll should stop by there.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Sybil Moments, Feisty Beagles and Finding My Backbone

It was a bit on the warm side this morning as I made my way in to the Asylum. The Google weather gadget doohicky says it's supposed to be 79°, but all I care about is that the house, the truck and now my office are all artificially cooled and I'm a happy camper.

Last night, during my weekly visit with the noggin' doc, we talked about my internet adventures and while I expected her to suggest that I needed a little more reality in my life, she actually thought I'd found a productive way to cope with my situation.

I felt all smart and stuff.. well.. until I started trying to explain Second Life and having multiple avatars... then I started to feel a little schizo.

Back at the trailer, the precious kitty has an appointment to get spayed on Friday, which is good because if she ever takes a whiz on my leg again, her life could be in serious danger. I love my critters and all.. but I have my limits.

Speaking of critters, Sammy the Boston Baked Beagle, who had been left almost completely hairless by a combination of a skin condition and the aftermath of some traumatic (for us) surgery a couple of years ago... has hair! He's still got a big bald spot where he was shaved and a few spots here the nasty drainage tubes were, but he looks almost like a dog again and not like a newborn mole rat.

And.. he's getting a little feisty. When Ma was in the hospital the first day and the dogs were left completely alone, I returned to the house late that night and was greeted by a ferociously barking Kujo the wonder dog. All 27 of his back hairs were standing straight up until I spoke to him.

It was sorta funny actually.. especially when he realized it was me. He was like, "Oh Hai!"

Ma went back to her doc yesterday, who cleared her to go back on her Celebrex, which is a very good thing because for the few days she wasn't allowed to take it, she barely got out of bed. I feel like we're almost getting back to normal.

As for me.. well.. other than having my nails attacked yesterday by an over zealous nail tech who sawed on my fingers like she was trying to take down a redwood and my having a serious case of the screaming pooties.. I'm just coasting along for now. I'm trying to stay in my happy place as I await Bossman's return on Monday, when I'm planning to have a little discussion with him, whether he wants to or not.

You don't put Baby in a corner and you don't use Mahala as a doormat. His little note when I got back to work after being out with Ma put an end to my easy going, grateful-to-have-a-job attitude.

I'm still grateful, but it's not going to be used to take advantage of me.

So there. He can suck on that.

Anywho..

I'd better get to it. In celebration of Hump Day, let's embrace our inner wild child and hump it like we did back when men wore spandex and no one left home without a heavy coat of AquaNet.

Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

Sweet Breezes and Holey Noses

Oh it's a glorious day here at the Cubicle Asylum. Late yesterday morning, the cool breeze of newly installed air conditioning began flowing through the vents. I threatened to dance in the hall and announced an urge to kiss someone.. anyone.

For the first time since spring, I was able to fix my hair and slap on a little war paint before coming to work, instead of showing up like I was fixin' to go work in the garden. I feel almost human.

When I made the annoucement on Plurk, much joy was expressed by my plurkies:

Mahala Sweet Holy Miracles of Unsweaty Boobs Batman!!! The ac...SHE IS ON! *faints*


MissRiss yea!!!!!!!!! say goodbye to swoobies!

bunny

Perpelina says it's a miracle!!!

bigdoc says Hallelujah!

liz JUSTliz says WOO HOO!

AZJazzyJ thinks it's a Festivus miracle!

LotusHips WOOHOOOOOOO!

SpaShark says wow a milestone indeed..

In other news.. The Amazon has been entertaining the idea of getting her nose pierced. I kinda want to as well. I might wait until she gets hers done, then wait until my birthday. If I still want to by then.. and her nose hasn't rotted off.. I might just go for it.

Anywho.. that's all I've got for today. I'd better get on the stick, I leave at three today for my weekly noggin doc visit.

Ya'll hang in there. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!

My Chit List for the Week: The Repairman, The Boss & The Cat

It's a good thing we have that new thermostat installed here at the asylum. Now there's no doubt that it was 86° in the office when we arrived. Another week begins, all the doors open, dollar store fans positioned strategically throughout the hall way and a thick cloud of weld dust drifts in from the opened entrance to the manufacturing floor.

Lovely.

Oh they installed the new ac unit on Friday. Everything was connected and working fine.. for about a half a minute. It was then discovered that the ac unit which was supposed to come from the factory, charged with freon, was damned near empty. The "guy" is supposed to be back this morning to charge it up, but me and the girls have decided it probably was charged at the factory and just leaked all the way to Frog Pond Holler.

Because that's the kind of luck we have.

In other news that gripes my ass before I've even downed a cup of coffee: I came in this morning to find a stack of notes on my desk from Bossman. Apparently he snuck in either early this morning or over the weekend and went through everything on my desk, leaving little obnoxious notes on everything.

He's not supposed to be here. He's not supposed to call, email or otherwise make contact while he is on furlough.

And he's really starting to tick me the hell off.

Meanwhile, back at the trailer...

Ma seems to be feeling better. They took her off her arthritis medication, so she's having pain in her legs and back, but she goes back to the doctor tomorrow and hopefully he'll give her something different.

She's not thrilled with diet Cokes. I bought Coke Zero, Diet Coke and Diet Caffeine Free Coke. I told her to try them all, I'd drink what she didn't want. By the middle of the week she was offering a hundred bucks for a real one.

The precious kitten is in heat again. She squawls and hollers all night, rolling around on the floor and acting like she's dying. I'm usually pretty sympathetic in such matters, but when she rubbed against my leg the other night, then turned and sprayed kitty tinkle all down my leg, onto my foot and in between my toes.. well... let's just say I was a tad bit unhappy.

I hope the Amazon gets her an appointment soon.

Anywho...

I guess I should get to work and tackle this big stack of crap on my desk. Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

Is It Five O'clock Yet?

Lawd have mercy, I'm glad it's Friday.

It's 9:30 here at the Asylum and I've already had to give in to the scrunchie. Frumpilicious is the new fashion statement 'round here lately.. what with the lack o' a.c. and all. We've tossed the dress code and become an office full of ponytails, flip flops and short britches.

But there is hope.

Yesterday, we gathered in the parking lot and watched with hands clasped and smiles of joy upon our faces as a crane lifted the bright, shiny new unit to the roof. Hopefully, we'll have air, probably just in time to go home today.

Keep your fingers crossed.

After spending most of last week running back and forth to Big City with Ma, then going on my cleaning rampage last weekend and having a fun filled week without Bossman here at the Asylum, my plans for this weekend include a whole lotta sitting around on my big butt... and I don't care if I sound lazy or not.

Deal with it.

I'm sure other people will have other plans in store for me.. but that's what I'm shooting for.

Anywho.. I need to get back to holding my head up and yawning while I stare off in to space, sipping coffee and watching the clock work. We'll talk more later.

Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

Mayo, Rats and Shrunken Heads

It promises to be a warm one here in Frog Pond Holler this Humpday. My desk is covered with mounds of paper, consisting of assorted orders, multiple "urgent" requests and ... oh no, don't tell Bossman but.. filing. The red message light on my phone is blinking obnoxiously and I'm afraid to open my email.

And yes.. I'm sitting here in the middle of it all updating my blog. I've developed a serious case of asskissamyus when it comes to this place.

It's easy to do around here. It's 8:36 and no managers have shown up for work. We still have no air conditioning and all the guys out in the plant are running to Thelma every five minutes to find out what they need to be doing because they've run out of other people to ask.

Oh yeah.. good times.

Yesterday was Noggin Doc day. I'm learning alot about myself during our visits. Like.. did you know that PTSD, when triggered during childhood, affects the physical development of your adrenal system, changing the way your body reacts to stress and metabolizes medication for the rest of your life? Is that not weird as heck?

I almost giggled when she said, "I suspect you've been unbalanced for most of your life." I was like... yeah.. no kidding.

After my weekly head shrinking, I headed to the ginormous new Uber Wally World for groceries. Ma has finally accepted that she is diabetic and can't be living on white bread and sucking down Coke's 24/7, so I picked up a bunch of sugar free, low-fat, whole wheat goodies. I told her we'd try different stuff and she could decide what she liked. I did not, however, tell her that that the wienies I fed her for supper were fat free and we hid the rest of them in the back of the freezer, buried under a bag of lima beans.

She can't know about the wienies. The woman is very persnickety about her dawgs.

When I fixed her plate, the Amazon entered the kitchen:

"Did you just put mayo on those hot dogs?" she asked.

"Yes, she wanted mayo. I know it's gross, but your nana is weird."

"That paper says she can't have mayo!" she said.

"I realize that but," I lowered my voice to a whisper, "these are fat free hot dogs on whole wheat buns."

"IT SAID NO MAYO," the Amazon insisted.

I started towards Ma's bedroom with the plate as I called back to the Amazon, "You gotta learn to pick your battles in life."

"NO MAYO!"

"PICK YOUR BATTLES!"

"Would you please shut up and give me my damn hot dogs?" was heard from the other room.

Anywho.. either there's a 2 ton rat in the crawl space over my office or they're working on the air conditioning. Keep your fingers crossed.

Ya'll have a good Hump Day. Let's hump it like Arts and Crafts hour down at the nervous hospital.

Later Taters!

My Boss, the Genius

***WARNING: RANT AHEAD***
As most of you know, I've not taken any actual vacation time in the last two years. With my reduced schedule, I've used a few hours here and there to make up for the cuts, just to be able to make the house payment etc.

But time off? I've not taken any. Bossman, however, has made countless trips to his home state, was out over a week for the death of his mother (we get three days) whom he said he hated anyway and just gets up and leaves whenever he feels a tickle between his ass cheeks.

Last week, I took two and a half days vacation time to go be with my mother in the hospital. TWO AND A HALF DAYS.

After making countless trips back and forth to Big City, nearly having a breakdown in the hospital as I watched them wheel Ma down the hall to have dye shot through her heart, tossing my FMF into overkill by doing the tango with a queen sized box springs and mattress and umpteenjillion loads of laundry, I come dragging ass back into the office this morning (where there still is no a.c.) to find this lovely note on my desk:

"I hope your mother is feeling better. While you were out I spent some time in your office and I'm concerned about your/ours filing system and order maintenance. I had a hard time locating open orders.

We need filing completed.

I know you are the only sales person and your job is far reaching, but we need to get this completed.

Your being out with your mother as shown me that our present system needs to be cleaned up. If you think you need more than 30 hours to complete all of the tasks assigned to you, I'm willing to discuss it.

I will call you Monday morning and talk to you.

B.M."

Oh golly gee fricken willackers Bossman.. doing the work of three people with less time to do it has put me behind in filing? YA RECKON? Here's a thought... how about you put crap back in the filing cabinet when you get done instead of tossing it on my desk? Or.. how about you learn to run a dang report all by your pitiful self? Maybe.. since you've been here over three years, it's about time you learned our inventory system, instead of making me drop everything to look up parts for you, just because you won't take the time to learn to do it yourself.

I hope to hell he doesn't call me this morning. I may end up fired.

Anywho...

Ma's feeling better at least. She's not running any marathons, but she's acting closer to normal than she has in forever.

I'm gonna go pop a pill now and try to calm my little ass down before Bossman calls... I'd hate to lose my cool and threaten to go upside his bald little head with a tire iron.

Ya'll have a good Monday.

Later Taters.

Washing Mountains and The Black Mamba

Hoppin' horny toads.. can you say T-I-R-E-D?

Ma was released from the hospital yesterday. Aunt Moses volunteered to go collect her and bring her home, so I had at least a half a day to work on Ma's bedroom.

Before I go on, I have to explain that Ma is a packrat. I don't mean she's got a few knick knacks sitting around.. I mean she's the kind of packrat you see crying on Dr. Phil's show while he publicly humiliates them on television, in the hopes that it'll be enough to shock them into tossing some junk.

Stuff was piled chest high on the floor and on her bed, leaving just enough space for her to lay down. I've tried to clean it before, but she'd always pitch a fit or go in to this long speech about how she didn't want to be any trouble to anyone and how worthless she felt until I just couldn't take it anymore and I'd give up. She had a path to the bed and to the bathroom. I'm not exaggerating.. if anything, I'm leaving out he worst of it.. I'm ashamed I've allowed her to stay in there, but I really didn't see any solution.

So... yesterday morning at 7:30 I began by gathering up all the soiled sheets, towels and bed pads that she'd hidden around the room. I piled them all in the kitchen to give myself an area to move around in her room and started the washer. The washer and dryer ran constantly until 5 o'clock yesterday.

After I stripped her bed, I found the busted spot in her box springs and single handedly flipped the queen sized mother humper, without taking the ceiling fan down, but sending her bedside lamp sailing into the bathroom.

Okay.. so there were a few casualties.

I flipped the mattress.. the box springs were easier, then Lysoled the hell out of them both. As I excavated the piles of... stuff.. I uncovered an unopened package of brand new sheets I'd bought her three years ago.

Sweet!

I'll spare you the details of what all I found, but our big garbage bin in front of the house is full of bags, as is the back of my truck.

When she got home, I was almost finished and she didn't fuss. She even commented that she didn't remember the last time her bed had been made.

I'm not done buy any means, but it already looks like a different room. I'm still washing sheets, bedspreads and quilts.

Her heart cath procedure found no problems with her heart at all. The general consensus is that either she had a light heart attack that left no damage or she got screwed up taking some of her prescriptions and damn near killed herself. She's also been taking OTC stuff that she shouldn't have been taking with her prescribed medications, which we suspect might have caused alot of her confusion and craziness.

On a side note, while she was being prepped for her procedure, they gave her a nice dose of something to make her drunk, which caused her to put the moves on the male nurse escorting her, a large, bald (and damn fine, I might add) black man, who called himself The Black Mamba. By the time we got to the cath area, they had a date for tonight at his place, where they were gonna dance under the fireworks. He lives by the Big City baseball stadium and has the perfect view.

He asked where we were from and Ma proudly told him, which lead to a discussion of moonshine and Ma's admission that there's a big quart jar of the stuff somewhere in this house.

During this time, Aunt Moses, who wasn't medicated at all, suddenly started channelling Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies, explaining to T.B.M that she lived 14 miles deep into the Pisgah National Forrest and that she had "bars up yonder." T.B.M. said he always wanted a bear skin coat, he'd like to come up there and go hunting. Aunt Moses told him to come on up, Uncle Barney would love to show him how to take one down.

I had to bite my tongue. I wouldn't advise a person of color going into the woods with my Uncle Barney, especially if he was armed.

Anywho.. Aunt Moses then began describing the new "Apple Pie" flavored moonshine that was gaining popularity now and how smooth and tasty it was.

The whole time I'm standing there like... who the hell are these people and what are they talking about? And why don't I know of this new, tasty Apple Pie flavored whiskey?

I guess I'd better get back to folding sheets and starting another load. I feel a nap coming on soon, maybe after the Amazon goes to work. It's been a rough week. I'll try to be more coherent in future posts, I realize I'm rambling like a madwoman.

Ya'll have a great holiday. If ya come by, tiptoe in. I'll probably be sneaking a nap.

Later Taters.

Hanging In There

Hey ya'll.

If you follow along on Plurk, Twitter and Facebook, you already know what's been going on the past few days. Ma had a doctor's appointment on Tuesday and.. as far as we can tell... experienced a mild heart attack while there.

I left work, snagged the Amazon from up at the Pump n' Go and followed the ambulance to Big City, where we spent most of the day sitting in the E.R. They finally put her in a room around 11 that night and spent the better part of yesterday trying to get another I.V. started after she wallered around and lost the first one. After everyone in a 50 mile radius tried and failed, they had to send her down to the basement to have a pick line put in.

It's been more fun than a barrel of drunken monkeys.

Today she's having catheterization to find and hopefully correct a blockage, so I'm fixin' to leave and head back up there.

Bossman has been surprisingly agreeable. He didn't even flinch when I told him I was taking off the rest of the week. I figure, I've been covering for everyone else up at the Asylum for the past 13 years.. it's my turn.

Anywho...

Needless to say, I've been thankful to have the "anti-heebeejeebee-I-think-I'm-Gonna-Die" medication. My nerves, surprisingly, are not shot all to hell for a change.

I'm trying not to use the innerwebs on my phone because it kills the battery, but I do check my gmail, so I see blog comments, Facebook updates and direct messages from Twitter. I've been using Ping.fm to keep everyone up to date as much as I can.

Ya'll will just have to bear with me for the next couple of days until I get my head screwed back on straight.

Oh and.. ya'lls messages, prayers and kind words have really warmed my heart. I love you guys. I have the best innerweb buddies in the world.

So yeah.. I'd better get it in gear. I'll check in when I can.

Later Taters!