Giving Me Good Vibrations

So have ya'll seen the latest in cosmetic developments? I'm not talking about the super dooper wrinkle eraser creams or the new and improved spackle and crack fillers.. I'm talking about that wonder of modern science...

.... Vibrating Mascara

We can put a man on the moon, send a robot to Mars, identify guilty criminals by the genetic makeup of a drop of their spit.. but the best thing we can come up with to make me look and feel like a super model is a mascara applicator that VIBRATES?

Seriously?

Ya'll know I've got the wonky joints and my hands tend to suddenly go off and do their own thing without rhyme nor reason, especially in the early morning hours. I can just see me staggering into the Hee-Haw clinic, my left eye swollen to twice it's normal size, bloodshot and surrounded by jaggedy, black smears, looking like a Picasso painting of a racoon, trying to explain how I impaled myself with vibrating mascara.

Oh yeah... the Tuesday Night Fried Chicken Social down at the Baptist church would be buzzing with a whole new topic of discussion. Only, by the time it got to them, the story would involve a giant, ethnically specific, marital aid and a farm animal or two... because that's how we roll down here in the holler.

Which reminds me... the last time me and the Amazon went down to the spiffy, new Wal-Mart over on the edge of civilization, I wandered around the health products while she shopped for toothpaste. I found myself gazing upon the shelves of birth control options... just in case I were to ever get the chance to partake of the joys of nookie related activities again... a girl needs to know what's available. It was there that I spotted it.. right beside the rainbow pack of ribbed, nubbed and greased up condoms... the Vibrating Touch Fingertip Massager.

AT THE WAL-MART FER GAWDSAKES!!

Now.. if you're gonna sell something that vibrates.. that right there seems like a much better use of the technology than something that goes in the general vicinity of one's eyeball.

I'm just sayin'..

Of course, I had to call the Amazon over and hint that this new product would make an excellent Christmas gift for the single mom, the price is reasonable and it's easy to find.. right there at Wally World. She was handling it okay until I pointed out that the packaging stated that the battery only lasted about 30 minutes and that she may want to include some extras with the gift.

She may or may not have fled, running down the aisle screaming for a sharp implement with which to stab her mind's eye in an effort to remove the visual that was now embedded in her brain.

Anywho.. it's Humpday ya'll  Let's hump it like a drunken prom queen. And? It's payday. I might be going to Wal-Mart after work.

For groceries. I swear.

Later Taters!

Gettin' Green in the Holler

It's Monday morning at the Asylum, the coffee is hot, there's a nip in the air and I just finished scouring the job listings on all the major employment websites.

There ain't alot out there ya'll.

The big news in town this morning is the installation of a windmill up at the elementary school. I could see it from the house this morning as I was leaving, it's just a tiny thing, I don't see how it's going to generate much wind. I reckon we're fixin' to get all green down here in the holler.

Me and the Amazon have often entertained the idea of greening up the old trailer. There's a little place over in Big City, in that part of town where all the hippies congregate, swapping organic produce out of the backs of little Suburu hatchbacks, which sells solar panels and bamboo wood flooring. Entertaining the idea is all we can afford at the moment, but we're working on fixing that.

There's also alot of chatter about the October issue of a popular magazine that focuses on living down here in the south. You might want to check it out while you're standing in line at the grocery store. In the travel section, there's an article about a tiny town tucked away in the mountains, a town that might sound an awful lot like Frog Pond Holler.

Back at the trailer, we're back to medicating dogs. Sammy, the now not quite as hairless Boston Baked Beagle is on more stuff for his delicate skin condition. He's on a steady regimen of steroids, leading to alot of Arnold Schwarzenegger impressions and references to 'roid rage by me and the Amazon. He got down in the floor and played a bit the other night, something he's not done in years. It's nice to see him doing anything other than sleeping and gnawing on himself.

I swear, the dog probably thinks his name is "Sammystopscratching."

Anywho..

Before I leave you, I thought I'd share the song I've got stuck in my head this morning. I don't want to have to suffer alone. Most of ya'll will remember this one from way back when...




It's Monday ya'll.. and while I'll be spending my week scrambling to try to make up for a very unproductive weekend, at least I can be in a decent mood while I do it. Hang in there, we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Of Satanic Cults and Big Headed Germans

I was working away late yesterday afternoon when I received a call from the Big Headed German over in accounting.

"Hey Mahala! How's it goin?"

"Oh I'm okay.. what's going on?" I asked, anxious for him to get to the point. I needed to finish putting in the big, weekly order from our one, huge customer and I was getting a little annoyed that I was playing operator at the same time.

"I just finished payroll for next week. You'll be happy to know that your check number ends in 666."

"Oh wonderful," I answered. "One more little curse in my life."

The Big Headed German laughed, in his big headed way and said, "Didn't they say that wasn't really the number?"

"Yeah, that's right, I remember now, they said it wasn't translated correctly from the original Greek. I don't remember what it's supposed to be though."

"Isn't it 999?" he asked.

"Ummm no, I don't think that was it," I answered, glancing down at the pile of data entry I still had laying in front of me and glancing at the clock, realizing that time was running out.

"Did you know that if you connect the stars in the Proctor and Gamble logo, you draw 666?" Apparently BHG had evil conspiracies on the brain."They're sideways and backwards and upside down, but they're there."

"No, I never heard that, I always heard they were owned by the Moonies. Hey.. if the sixes are all upside down and sideways, they could be nines too right?" I think this was around the time I decided I didn't give a big butt zit about the data entry anymore and moved the pile to the side.

"Hey, that's right!" he exclaimed, apparently impressed with my magical number decoding abilities. "But, what's a Moonie?"

"Don't you remember Reverend Moon.. and that cult.. back in the late seventies I think?"

"OOoooh you mean the ones who were waiting for the mothership to take them back on a comet. Weren't they from the moon?"

"Oh my gawd no. That was after I came to work here. I'm talking about back when we were still in high school."

"Oh yeah," BHG said.

"Well, anyway, I should get back to work now that you've told me that my paycheck is cursed and I'm doing laundry with Satan's detergent."

"No we cleared your paycheck, remember? The number of the beast isn't 666," the Big Headed German reasoned. I guess he was trying to make me feel better.

"True," I added. "Wait, isn't it supposed to be BR-549?"

"What? I've heard that somewhere," he said.

"Yeah.. from Hee-Haw.. there's always that cartoon goat at the end.. and you know goats are the sign of Satanic cults. I heard Lulu represented the Pagan goddess of fertility, with her voluptuous curves and Junior Samples supposed nonsensical ramblings were actually demonic instructions, veiled heavily in secret code for their army of followers."

The Big Headed German was silent.

"There were wild orgies where the moonshine flowed like water and all those big busted women exchanged their Daisy Dukes for long, flowing, black robes. I saw a picture somewhere on the internet where an insider snapped a picture of of their sacrificial offering... a family sized bucket of KFC.. which was ceremoniously fed to that big bloodhound.. the resulting slobbers were collected in Mason jars and were thought to posess magical powers..."

"Wait.. is this those Moonies you were talking about earlier?"

*Blink*

"YEAH! Thats it!" I said. "Anywho, I'd better get back to work, I'll talk to you later."

I still managed to get my orders entered before quitting time.. but not without stopping to think about the Big Headed German and the look he'd have on his face when it finally dawned on him what Hee-Haw was. It's that big head... too much empty space in there.

It's Friday ya'll. I just wanna take off my clothes and roll around in the wet grass with happiness.

Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

Disclaimer: I do not really think Hee-Haw is satanic. I was raised on that show and still watch it from time to time, Sunday nights on the RFD channel. I do not in any way wish to state that Proctor and Gamble or any of it's holdings is actually part of a cult, satanic or otherwise, nor do I wish to insult the members of any religion, group, cult or collection of individuals with a common belief.

The initials "KFC" is not meant to imply the name of a famous chain of fried chicken restaurants, any similarity to that company is purely coincidental.

I love bloodhounds and would never say anything to soil their good name, nor did I wish to imply that they produce an unusual amount of slobbers, although the substance may, indeed, possess magical powers. You can adopt your own magical slobber producing bloodhound here.

Any similarity between the fictional Hee-Haw fertility goddess Lulu and my co-worker Lulu is purely coincidental. I'm pretty sure co-worker Lulu doesn't even know what a Pagan is, but her sensitivity to cold and extreme lack of blood circulation does make me wonder sometimes if she is actually human.

Bubbles, Bossman and the Latest Gossip

As I was walking down the hall yesterday, Lulu motioned for me to make a pit stop in her office. We have to be stealthy to get any gossip, everyone's scrambling for every hour they can get, no one wants to be accused of having any free time.

"I stopped down at the dollar store yesterday after work and I seen Bubbles sittin' in the parking lot with her girls. I got by her without her seeing me, but then I got cornered by her Bubbahubby over by the Pepsi and chips," she said. "I asked him how she was doin' and he said he told her she was just gonna have to stop waitin' around for the plant to call her back and find her a job."

"Mmmm hmmm... he don't like her having all this free runnin' around time now that the little one's in school," I added.

"Uh huh.. he said she's been a'helpin' his daddy mow grass for people and he's havin' to pay her, but Bubbahubby don't like it. He said his daddy needs his money. In the meantime, Bubbles' Bubbahubby is working FOUR jobs," Lulu added. "He's working for the hospital, over in the next county as a paid firefighter, he's mowing for people AND he's working part time for the town. Now, I KNOW their house is paid for and I KNOW he makes good money up at that hospital, so you can't tell me he ain't workin' all them jobs just to keep from being at home."

I thought about how wide open Bubbles was when she worked beside me up at the Asylum. Then I imagined her without anyone to talk to for hours on end and how glad she'd be to see her man when he walked in after a two day shift on the ambulance.

"I'll bet, if she doesn't find a job soon, Bubbahubby will be finding him a fifth job, just to keep peace in the family," I said.

 Just the thought of her coming back to work up there puts a knot in the pit of my stomach.

In other news...

I've known for a while that Bossman keeps a full woodworking set up in his basement. He occasionally brings in pictures of stuff he's made and openly admits to having a framed, autographed picture of Norm Abrams hanging on his wall for inspiration.

After spotting an article on casket making in the paper, PG showed it to Bossman and suggested that perhaps he should go into the coffin crafting business. I joined in and as PG and I got as much mileage out of it as possible, Bossman reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a woodworking catalog, flipped to an earmarked page and proudly displayed a listing for "coffin hardware."

He never would say if he intended to build his own or build them for other people, but don't be suprised if you hear of an angry looking bald man on the side of a Tennessee mountain road, surrounded by a collection of custom crafted caskets for sale.

I'll be sure to get pictures if I spot him first.

Anywho...

It's Humpday ya'll. Let's hump it like it's our last day on earth.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Changing Seasons and Determination

First, thanks for all the atta girls for the new design. (I tweaked it a little, if it still looks goofed in Firefox, let me know.) I think I'll redo the font on the linky bar, make it smaller and yellower, but other than that I'm pretty pleased with myself.

The tourist season is winding down in Frog Pond Holler. My feelings towards tourist season are kinda like how I feel about my uncle Alonzo. I look forward to his visits, but it doesn't take long for me to remember how much chaos he creates when he's here and I'm kinda glad when it's time for him to go back home.

There will still be the occasional hiker shlagging by the kitchen window, following the smell of greasy french fries wafting down from the Grab n' Go (and go and go) but the massive packs of stick weilding walkers, with a collective armpit odor the Pentagon could harness and use to power nuclear weapons, are gone until next summer.

Meanwhile, things at the Asylum are about the same. Bossman is a butthole, Lulu sits around wrapped up in a blanket and wearing gloves because the thermostat is sitting at a frigid 71° and the rest of us seem to be working harder and harder.

I'm not sure how that happens, but it seems to be the case.

I keep plugging along, still looking for another job. Which brings me to the new graphics card I ordered. I applied for a job with a company I've been doing business with for about three years. If hired, I'd be able to work full time from home and while I'm not that hopeful I'll get it, my computer's graphics card didn't meet their minimum requirements. My little box arrived today from Amazon, so now I'll be up to speed... if all goes well.

The new, larger dog lot still sits empty. I try not to look at the local Petfinder site, although there's now a litter of Malamute/Border Collie puppies. I'm determined to shake things up financially and I'm using my dream of a big, hairy critter to waller around to drive me. I won't get another one until I know I can afford to spoil it like crazy.

I'm still seeing the noggin doc, but we decided to cut back to once every three weeks. I don't panic anymore and it seems easier for me to focus instead of going off willy nilly in ten different directions at once. Now when Bossman goes off on a tangent, the top of his bald little head turning blood red, screaming obscenities and making a complete donkey's butt of himself, I just laugh, shake my head and move on.

I figure, he's gonna have his Underoos in a wad over something anyway, no matter what I do.

Anywho, I need to go fish the cat out of the sink, she likes to lick the dirty dishes, so I can load the dishwasher. The day is half over. I'll be glad to see five o'clock today.

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

Later Taters!

Next Time, Talk Me Out of it, Okay?

Alrighty ya'll. I've done just about all the web techy damage I can do for one weekend. I'm cross eyed, I've got a few more bald spots and I've considered taking up smoking again at least twice.

If installing that new graphics card goes as smoothly as this did, I'll be checking myself into a real asylum by Wednesday.

I promise a real post tomorrow. Right now, I have to pee, my left leg is asleep and I feel a sneeze coming on.

This won't end well.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Advertising on HiddenMahala

Data for HiddenMahala.com as of 10/1/2009

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Miss Kittypuss

I finally figured out why I couldn't upload pictures from my camera. It really helps if the business end of the USB cable is actually attached, in some way, to the computer.

Oh,  I'm handy alright.

Anywho..  most of ya'll probably remember the tiny little waif of a kitteh that wondered into the parking lot up at the Asylum, having at least traveled through the woods to get there, if not actually spending some time eeking out a meager existance in the wilderness.

Since that picture was taken, back in April she's been spayed, wormed and fed.. gawdalmighty how she's been fed. She's also left her mark on both myself and the Amazon, literally. She goes from curling up in your lap, the perfect snuggle bunny companion to an evil, demon possessed, psycho kitty, lying in wait to rip into your calf, holding on, determined to take you down like an injured wildebeest.

The vet determined that she was born sometime in late January, so she's somewhere between 8-9 months old.


 
Just look at that belly. And those feet. Notice how her claws are embedded in T.A.'s flesh.

She is not even GROWN.

Pray for us.

Now that I've figured out my camera problems, you can look forward to more pictures. I'm also going to be tinkering with some coding, which usually ends up fine, but not without some major kinks along the way. So if you pop over to find out the latest in Frog Pond Holler and like.. my sidebar is now horizontal or the cow in my header is standing on his head.. do not be alarmed. It's a work in process.

I guess I'd better go tackle all those domestic duties I've neglected this week. I hope ya'll have a great weekend. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Gettin' Techie, Gettin' Chunky and Ready for Friday

Sweet Mama Hazel... it's finally Friday. That this day has arrived without Bossman mysteriously disapearing from the face of the earth, his car abandoned in the creek on a dark, secluded mountain road, the driver's side door left open as if he'd been suddenly snatched up by aliens... is a miraculous fact.

Oh. My. God. I've never met ANYONE who is NEVER happy before.

He lives on a golf course, has a company car, gets to travel part of the time on company expense and although he's being forced to take a week furlough every month, he's getting reimbursed for a percentage of it by unemployment. He's got a wife who is home all day to take care of all his appointments, cook for him, do all his laundry and.. let's be honest.. generally put up with his bullcrap on a daily basis.

And yet, he walks past my office, his hand to his forehead at least three times a day muttering, "gaaaaaaaaawdammit. dammit. gaaaaaaawdammit. mother. dammit. gaaaaaaaawdammit."

It makes me want to shove my rose scented Home Interiors candle jar up his butt... loosen things up and improve the general atmosphere of his innards.

Sorry, I don't mean to dwell on his lack o' personality but it amazes me that people go through life like that.

Anywho...

Last night, I followed Miss Kittypuss around with the camera, trying to get a picture for ya'll that showed how she's gone from the waif-like little kitten I found in the Asylum parking lot, to the ginormous, pot-bellied demon she's become. The Amazon finally took a chance with her life and held the kitty for a picture. When I went to upload it last night, I discovered that I accidentally removed the Nikon software from my computer when I cleaned it up a couple weeks ago.

Oops.

I'll try to work on that this weekend.

Other plans for the weekend include moving the new and improved dog lot up and over a few feet so that the oil man can get to the barrell thingie when cold weather hits. I also want to see how much it's going to cost to put paving stones down on the middle third of it, I have to go to Lowe's tonight anyway to return the air conditioner I bought for Ma, so I'll price them up then.

That's right. The air conditioner we fought back and forth about for months is still sitting, unopened in the living room floor. I've been using it as an end table. She never would let me install it, so screw it. I'm taking it back and using the money to take the other two mutts to the vet to get them caught up on their shots. When warm weather returns, I plan to move the big unit out of the living room and into the kitchen window, where it will be closer to Ma's room and me and T.A. won't have to sit directly in front of the stupid thing wrapped up under blankets all the time.

Also? I'm as excited as a five year old on Christmas morning to be checking the mail every day for my brand new graphics card. My geekness has reached a new level. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I'm even going to install it myself. This is new territory for me. If you don't hear from me anymore after this weekend, you'll know I blew my computer up.

It can't be that hard.. right?

Ah well. I suppose I should at least try to look like I'm doing some actual work. We'll talk again soon. Ya'll have an awesometastic Friday.

Later Taters!

Of Wolves, Hoovers and Dirty Dishes

It's Humpday in Frog Pond Holler and this week already feels like it's been two weeks long.

Yesterday was like a marathon, I ran around all morning here at the asylum, got off at three, picked up the Amazon, went to the noggin doc, stopped for a bite to eat then headed to Wally World for groceries. I finally got home around 9.

It's no surprise that I over slept a bit this morning. I staggered into the kitchen to put the coffee on, having to dig through boxes of cereal and mooburger helper to get to the pot. I didn't get around to putting the rest of the groceries away last night. Both sinks, half the counter and part of the stove are piled with dirty dishes, so getting water to make the coffee was a little tricky, but I managed.

Digging through the noodle encrusted plates and foul smelling cereal bowls to get to the water (trailers have very tiny sinks.. don't judge me) reminded me of my Uncle Tommy. He would wait until his house got so bad that you could smell it before you got to the front door, then he'd call me to come clean it. He paid me well and I needed the money, so I'd jump all over the offer.

Well.. that and it meant I got to play with the wolves while I cleaned.

Tommy had two wolf cubs, Luna and Lobo. They were actually 75% Timber wolf and 25% Malamute and beautiful. As they started to get bigger, he ended up giving Luna to his girlfriend. She was growing into her wolf-like personality and it was just too much to try to manage two of them and work. Lobo, on the other hand, was a big goof ball. I loved that guy to pieces, even when he tried to kill the vacuum cleaner. He was silver-gray with yellow eyes and followed every step I took when I was there.

One afternoon when Lobo was almost a year old and I was 8 months pregnant with the Amazon, my Uncle Tommy got in his car, drove down to the docks to his houseboat, made a few phone calls and then ended his own life with a gun.

It's funny what a sink full of dirty dishes will make you think about, huh?

I tried in vain to get Lobo for myself after Tommy died, but Ma put her foot down. I can't say I blame her. I've been looking at pictures of Timber wolf hybrids this morning. I'd never buy one, I don't believe in the breeding of wild animals with domesticated ones, just so people can say they have a wolf for a pet. But if I were to stumble across one who needed a home...

Anywho...

I'd better get my backfield in motion. I hope ya'll have a howling good Humpday. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Eddie Izzard's Toe and Craving Kibble

In case ya'll were wondering, I didn't die over the weekend. I was up to my eyeballs in HTML and CSS and ImageReady and a bunch of other crap I don't understand. It took me the better part of the weekend to do what it would have taken a trained professional about two hours, but by golly I got 'er done.

I think I'm finally over my head crud.. at least the sinussy-snot churning part. My gums are inflamed again and I'm pretty sure I've got a raging infection on the left side. The last time this happened, I was just getting over a nice little sinus infection too. In the meantime, I learned from the P.A. at Dr. Sexypants office that gum inflamation is just one more goody you get with FMF.

The fun never ends.

I'm not going to bother calling the doc for a prescription, I've already proven that's a waste of time, but I've got almost a whole bottle of leftover Cipro. I'm not going to tell who's ailment it's left over from, but I will say that if I have a sudden urge to lick myself in public or howl at passing sirens, I'll stop taking it.

Welcome to healthcare in America.

Don't look at me like that. I already had to take off last week for Dr. Sexypants, time off I was asked to explain to the powers that be here at the Asylum and I have to leave early tomorrow for my noggin doc appointment. I can just see me telling Bossman I have to leave AGAIN.

My trashy big boobed cousin with the lazy eye sent her youngin over to borrow some crazy pills from Ma over the weekend. She'd let herself run out and all the kinfolk were in a panic that she'd go off batshit crazy and try to run over her New York hubby with the riding lawn mower.

Ya'll think I'm exaggerating.. but this is the same cousin who killed a 4.5 foot long yellow rattler.. throwing rocks at it. She's got a whole 'nother level of crazy goin' on in her attic.

I find it amusing that the whole damn family is now medicated for crazy. They must be handing that stuff out down at the Hee-Haw clinic like Halloween candy.

Back at the trailer, much of the conversation between the Amazon and myself has centered around the state of Eddie Izzard's toe. It's not unusual to hear:

The Amazon: "Is that your phone? Who's texting you?"

Me: "Oh.. must be Eddie. He's on his umpteenthjillion marathon to raise money for the under privledged."

The Amazon: "Still? Any news on the toe?"

Me: "Awwwww.. no.. but look, he's rescued a kitten!"

The Amazon: "But how's the toe? If he's going to share, he needs to keep us informed."

Me: "I'll ask."

Of course.. Eddie has more followers than anyone in the universe, so I'm sure any replies I send are in vain, but a girl has to dream.. right?

I've lost track of which marathon he's on and if I had the money, I'd sponsor him.. but ya'll know I'm a broke mother effer, so I'm asking ya'll to please send the Izzman some sponsorship money because he's running his little legs off. And seriously... he'll probably never be able to stand up again by the time he gets done. Hell, I'm worn out just hearing about it.

And now, because I always bring you the information you just can't get anywhere else, I give you Eddie Izzard's funkified, grossed out, oozy little toe:






Also? Tickets go on sale today for Eddie's mini U.S. tour, Stripped Too. I can't go, but ya'll can! Tell him I sent you. Ask to see his toe. Touch it.. it has magical powers.

And with that I'll get back to work. Bossman is especially pissy today and I'd hate to have to chest punch him with the uber stapler.

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

Later Taters!

Modeling for Sexypants

It's raining.. again.. here in Frog Pond Holler. Mold is going to start growing in my armpits with all moisture in the air.

I got caught in a hellacioius rain storm when I went to Big City the other day. Some of the streets were flooded and I chuckled as all the tiny little, eco conscious cars pulled to the side. Me and Jolene just plowed right through. There's something liberating about driving a big mohunkin' truck.

When I got there, I found the waiting room so packed to the gills, they were almost over flowing out into the hall. A room full of cranky arthritis patients, all comparing aches and pains, trying to out do each other with the severity of their symptoms and how far they had to drive to get there.

Great.

When I checked in, I had to have my picture taken for my file. I was not prepared for this. If I'd known, I would have done something to my hair other than shoving it in a scrunchy and perhaps indulged in a little spackle and paint.

I was a mess.

But it was all okay because I was going to see Dr. Sexypants. I'd ran home at lunch and shaved my legs, clipped my toenails and slapped on some smelly lotion in preparation. When the nurse led me into the P.A.'s exam room instead of Dr. Sexypants, I was a little perturbed.

No Sexypants for me.

Sadness.

He probably got a glimpse of my picture, changed his name and moved to Cuba.

Anywho...

I'm so glad it's Friday. It's not been a bad week, Bossman has been out since last Thursday so it's been kinda quiet. I'm still poking around, looking for a new job in between sales ninja duties. I think everyone else is looking for a new job too. The GM and Bossman are going to be awfully lonely here if everyone leaves. Maybe they can hold each other's hands.

I'm gonna go tackle some filing. Ya'll have a bootay kickin' weekend. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

A Good Day

It's going to be a good day. Say it with me people.

"It's going to be a good day."

I fell asleep on the couch after my shower this morning, sitting straight up mind you, waking up at 7:57am. I'm supposed to be here at 8. I jumped up, brushed my teeth, threw on my clothes and went to fill my thermos with coffee only to find that I'd left it at the office. So.. no coffee for me and I wasted a whole pot.

I grabbed a Coke and some strawberry Poptarts and ran out the door.

I get here, rush in, notice something weird in my reflection as I walked in the glass lobby doors, ran to the bathroom to check and discovered my shirt was on inside out.

But it's okay. IT'S GOING TO BE A GOOD DAY.

I even gave the one coworker I sorta get along with the finger (behind her back, of course) when she announced to the entire office, not once, but twice, that accounting had called for my time card for the past two weeks and that I was the only person who couldn't seem to get it turned in on time. This is after she stood over me, telling me how much she had to do and how impossible it was for her to get anything done, keeping me from getting my own crap done on time.

But it's okay. Do you know WHY it's okay?

Because I'm leaving at 2 p.m. to go to Big City to see Dr. Sexypants. He'll hold my hand and ask me where it hurts and I'll smile and tell him I'm fine while I think about how I'd like to jump his bones, right there in the exam room.

Yeah.. it's gonna be a great day!

Ya'll be good. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters.

Are You Sure it's not Monday?

Is it wrong that I'm on company time, using company resources to look at jobs online?

Don't answer that.

Remember the resume' I sent in a couple of weeks ago? Well now they've changed the job listing to accept applicants from WA, MA, VA and somewhere else, I don't remember, I just know it wasn't North Carolina.

Dammit.

I'm no longer looking only at online, work from home options, I'm looking for anything. Either a way to supplement my income or a whole new job. Never let it be said that I'm picky.

Anywho.. enough of that.

Over the weekend, the Amazon took my trashy big boobed cousin with the lazy eye's youngin to the Labor Day shindig down in town. The poor thing was just getting over a two week fit of the chicken pox and was more speckled than a robin's egg. T.A. said she was a little self conscious when they first got there, but with her gentle encouragement, she managed to talk her into hopping in the dunking booth, before they both settled in to listen to the night's entertainment.

And no.. I didn't go. I haven't been feeling my usual peachy freakin' keen self lately. I'm not sure if all my ailments are forming a coalition and rallying against me, or if it's all in my head. Either way, I just didn't have the patience to answer 158 people asking me "How's things up at the plant? Are yu'uns gonna shut down?"

Because seriously? I don't really know and I'm trying not to think about it.

I guess I should get off of here and get to work, seeing how this week I am...





The Sales Ninja

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Quiet Sunday in the Holler

Do not watch Quarantine at 1 a.m., alone, in a dark bedroom, with no one to protect you but a follically challenged Boston Baked Beagle.

You won't sleep well after. I'm just sayin'.

The Amazon and I had planned to get up early and go to Big City for some belly dancing, street performers and assorted entertainers at the Laugh Festival, but after a few double shifts and a late night at the Labor Day festivities, T.A. slept in this morning. I was thankful after being up all night, doing the Cha-Cha with Mr. G.

For those of you who are wondering, I didn't go get Miss Bonnie from the animal shelter, but it broke my heart not to. I've told myself that I need to stick to the plan and find another job before I do anything drastic. I'm trying to let go and just trust that everything will work out like it's supposed to.

Better to go with the flow than try to fight the current.

I've not posted any pictures in a while, my camera batteries went dead and I kept forgetting to charge them. With plans to go to Big City today, I finally got them all souped up yesterday. Now I can once again bore ya'll to tears with cat pictures and shots of sleeping dogs.

Yaay.

Those of you who follow me on Facebook were probably a little confused yesterday when you followed a link that landed you on a Second Life blog. I accidentally signed in to the wrong Ping.fm account. Stuff like that happens when you get older.

Anywho...

Me and T.A. are still recovering from a filling brunch of an egg-spinach-cheese concoction, with grits and biscuits as we debate whether or not it's too late to worry ourselves with getting dressed.

I'll let you know what we decide. There will not, however, be pictures of us in our skivvies.

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

Later Taters!!

But the Face!

I've spent most of my morning trying to convince myself that this would be totally irresponsible at this time.

I'm not sure if I'm getting my point across to myself or not.

Call the CDC, I Think It's The Hamthrax

Oh this is not good. I feel like poop on a pickle. I didn't get much sleep last night between the red hot poker sticking in my right ear and the many journeys down the hall and back.

That's right, the infectious head? Is now also the infectious.. other end. I'll spare you the goriest details.. this time. Let's just say, I can walk by a saltine cracker and it sets off a gurgling explosion of unpleasant noises and a sudden need for privacy.

So damn sexy. I can hardly stand myself.

*insert eyeroll here*

Oh yeah and the doc said no to calling me something in, but I already knew that would happen. I understand why they don't like to do it, but I was hoping. I just hate to take off work any more, I left early for the noggin doc yesterday and I have an appointment with Doctor Sexy Pants my rheumatologist next week.

Anywho..

Ya'll remember the tiny little waif of a kitten I took home a couple months ago? Well, the little demon on wheels is now 8 months old and is so big, the floor shakes when she lands after leaping from the counter.

She ain't normal ya'll. I think maybe she's got some mountain lion or feckin' black bear in her somewhere.

And eats... my gawd. She acts like she's starving all the time. As mean as she is, you don't DARE deny her food when she demands it. She remembers.. she plans.. I'M SERIOUS. If you peeve her off, she will get her revenge. Take away a toy? Don't turn your back. She will wait 'til you're sleeping and cut you.. in the night.. LIKE A NINJA.. and be gone before you know what hit you.

Evil wears a cat suit. I'm just sayin'.

I think I'm gonna go scrape change from the bottom of my purse for a Pepsi. I can't even think about coffee today.

It's Humpday, let's hump it like we're lookin' at a three day weekend.

Ya'll have a good one, we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!