Texting With the Amazon

Since the day The Amazon came home from college in Greensboro, she's been whining like a big ol' baby mentioning how much she misses going to IHOP. The other day, I made the mistake of telling her they were opening one over in the next county, about thirty minutes away, across from the Wally World where we do most of our shopping.

I've since learned that the IHOP isn't opening off in the near future some time, it's this Tuesday. The Amazon was just tad bit too excited about it last night. When I woke up this morning, I reached for my cellphone and this text exchange took place:

Me: IHOP has been cancelled. The whole company is going out of business
TA: LIAR
Me: The pancake batter became infected with the Ebola virus.
TA: STOP BEING A DIRTY LIAR
Me: Cuz terrorists infiltrated the company. All IHOP employees are Al-Qaeda
TA: LALALALALAIMNOTLISTENINGLALALALALALA
TA: STOPITSTOPITSTOPIT
Me: Sylvester Stallone, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Bill Clinton formed a posse of elderly vigilantes and killed them all .... in the night.
Me: There was pancake batter, whipped cream and blood everywhere
TA: YER EBIL
Me: Stallone was blinded when a projectile sausage link was fired straight into his eyeball
TA: NO
Me: It caused a reaction with all the Botox and his face melted
TA: I'm not even playing this game anymore
Me: Stop bothering me, I'm not even up yet
TA: YOU MESSAGED ME
Me: Nuh uh and you wouldn't even KNOW about IHOP if it weren't for me
TA: I know. And I was excited. And now you're trying to ruin it. What's up with that?
Me: It's my job as a parent to shatter your dreams and toy with your emotions
TA: yer just being a dork

Disclaimer: As far as I know, IHOP is not going out of business. I was just messin' with The Amazon. I haven't heard anything involving pancakes and the Ebola virus, please don't contact the CDC or for that matter, me, with your concerns. I can't be held responsible for the entire innerwebs and the occasional goofball who keeps their sense of humor in their sock drawer next to those condoms they'll never use. I don't really think all IHOP employees are Al-Qaeda, I have no knowledge of Al-Qaeda and if you happen to be with the FBI, CIA or some other government agency in hopes of catching some kinda "operative" (I learned that word on NCIS.. isn't Tony hawt?) you've come to the wrong place. I don't really know Sly, The Ahhnold or Bill, nor do I know if they have a secret posse. There was no blood shed (that I'm aware of.) I have no intimate knowledge of Stallone's face and I don't really know if he's had Botox, it just seemed funny at the time. I don't have anything against Sly, I'm sure he's a fine human being. If YOU are Sly and my references to Botox and a sausage melting your face upset you, God I'm sorry. I don't want your face to melt. I'm a nice person, really. If you're disturbed ("you" referring to readers, not Sly, I've moved on, you really should try to keep up,) by my grown child calling me "dirty," "ebil" and a "liar" please note that we also occasionally refer to each other as "ho," not to be confused with "whore" which would result in T.A. digesting her own teeth, right after I go all Sly Stallone on her ass. If you're offended by my use of the word "ass," please note that it's in the Bible and therefore allowed.

So there.

Later Taters!

Half Nekkid Hoochie Mamas

Ya know, I try to be positive. I do. Then I have days like today when I just can't muster the emotional strength to even try.

As most of you have been reading, we've had an ongoing problem with our plumbing. Our sewer line has never worked right for long, but for the past year, everytime it rains, we get crap backing up into the bathtubs whenever we try to run the dishwasher or the clothes washer.

It's gross ya'll.

Ma calls the town, the town says it's not their problem then we pay $300 a pop for the Rooter people to come out with the super pooper cleaner outer to clear the line. We've had to have it cleaned out twice in the past year, the last time was just a couple of months ago and now we're all backed up again.

Ma has it stuck in her head that we need the sewage line replaced. I don't remember if the last Rooter guy told her that or if she just decided that was what was wrong. We've been calling people and asking everyone for so long, that it's all one big brown blur.

We've been harrassing the guy who put in our hot water heater for months. He told T.A. or her boss or her boss' boss.. some damn body.. that he'd fix our sewer line if we could get someone with a backhoe to dig it up, which we did, then he disappeared again.

I don't ask for much in life, but I'd like to be able to flush my damned toilet or use that shiny new washer sitting in the laundry room.

I'm gettin' kinda uppity about the whole mess.

So finally, T.A.'s boss, who was probably tired of hearing us gripe about it, found "a guy" who would do it. T.A. texted me right before lunch to tell me he'd be at the house around 12.

I'm not going to go into how I feel about the people in my house scheduling every Bubba, Junior and Joe Bob to show up on my lunch hour or how I like to .. you know.. eat my damned lunch during my lunch hour, because I'm trying to learn to let things go.

Anywho...

I came home for lunch, tossed a frozen chicken tatta in the frying pan and half a bag of cauliflower, carrots and some other assorted cattle fodder in the microwave while I waited for Floyd or Elmer or whoever was coming. It wasn't long before he showed up with two skilled assistants following close behind. Mr. Fixit Guy was about 6'5" with the bulk to match. He spoke with a slow drawl and seemed kind, the type that would go out of his way to give anyone a hand. I explained the problem to him as best I could and he said, "Tell ya what. How about I grab a shovel and dig 'er up and we'll see what'sa goin' on?"

As he turned to retrieve the shovel from his truck, I went back inside to check on lunch. One side of the chicken tatta was burned to a crisp, the other side was still raw.

Dammit.

I glanced out of the kitchen window as I pried the crispy fowl from the pan in an effort to flip it over, just as the three people surrounding my sewage pipe let out a collective "Whoa!" and moved quickly away.

Surely they didn't find a snake. It's supposed to snow tomorrow.

I went to the door to see what everyone was looking at just as Mr. Fixit Guy motioned for me to come outside. He gestured towards the yard where I saw the giant pool of.. well.. muck.. crap.. raw sewage.

Lunch was gonna be just feckin' yummy.

"Have you called the town about this? Cuz if you've had this line cleared, it don't make no sense for it to be boilin' up over here unless the problem is in the town's line," he explained. I told him how many times we'd called and how they kept saying it wasn't their issue.

One of the other guys spoke up, who actually turned out to be a very manly woman, "If I was you, I'd call them one more time. If they don't come fix it, you call the health inspector and tell them you've got raw sewage coming up in your yard and by gawd, someone will do something."

I had to admit, calling the health department hadn't occured to me and it did sound like a good idea. It was about that time that I heard the dogs barking and turned to see Ma approaching the screen door.

With no pants.

Waving a $20 dollar bill.

The nice Mr. Fixit was trying hard not to notice the crazy looking lady with no pants and four teeth waving money.

"Um.. could you excuse me for just a second? Kay thanks!" I said as I shooed the dogs back inside and gave Ma that "count-your-blessings-that-there-are-witnesses" look, screeching through clenched teeth, "Where the hell are your pants???"

"What do they want to know?" she asked.

"They don't want to know anything, WHERE ARE YOUR PANTS???" I answered.

"I don't HAVE any clean pants because I can't WASH any CLOTHES."

"Well I would THINK it would be better to put SOMETHING on rather than run around with your big ol' BUTT CHEEKS hanging out for GOD AND EVERYBODY to SEE! And what's this $20 for?"

"Oh, on your way home tonight, can you pick me up some Tylenol Sinus?"

*blink*

"Umm sure."

I scurried back outside, talked to Mr. Fixit some more, who assured me that he'd be happy to come back out if we needed him, but he didn't want to take our money to do something that he didn't think would fix the problem. I waved goodbye as he drove off. It took a second for me to realize that the funky odor I was smelling wasn't from the above ground cesspool we had goin' on, but the aroma of charred chicken flesh. I ran inside to rescue what was left of my lunch, inhaling it in the ten minutes I had left of my break before heading back to the Asylum.

I passed Mr. Fixit and his crew chewing the fat outside the hardware store, probably telling the townsfolk about all the crap that came flowing up out of my yard. Or the snaggle toothed hoochie mama.

It's a good thing it was noggin' doc day huh?

Tomorrow is another day. That's a good thing, right?

Cuteness Matters

It's rainy and dark in the holler this morning, we saw the sun for about a day and a half before it went back into hiding. The ground is so saturated that if I didn't have 4WD, I'd never get out of the yard in the morning.

No, we don't really have a driveway, exactly, just a patch of yard where there's no grass. Down here, that is a driveway. Don't judge me.

I got so excited last night, I thought T.A. was going to have to medicate me and lock me in a closet when she told me someone is actually coming to our house this afternoon to see about fixing our sewer line. I'm a little ashamed at my absolute fecking glee that I may soon be able to flush without fear, to shower without intricate schedules and ... sweet baby You Know Who... to use my washing machine.

On a side note, I'd just like to say God Bless Febreeze and it's magical powers.

The other day, T.A. finally received the new laptop she received from Dell. The child was driving me insane with her stalking of the Fed-Ex guy, leaving long, detailed notes with intricate instructions for him should he try to deliver said laptop while she was at work and standing on the double yellow line, staring longingly up the road, awaiting his arrival.

It's a damn shame she can't get on the internet with it.

Apparently the wireless card won't work with our Westell router/modem doohickey, provided to us by Verizon. It would work with most of the ones supplied by Verizon, but according to the innerwebs (it has to be true if it's on the innerwebs) we have one of the early models (series A90) that was made in China. There's a security option you have to change for it to work with the new wireless cards that isn't even ON the model we have.

Because the account is in Ma's name, she had to call to try to get it changed, but couldn't get through to Verizon support at all, so I pitched a bitch and moan started asking around on Twitter. Within minutes I was approached by Verizon support on Twitter.

Great right?

I tried in vain to explain the problem in 140 characters or less, but the person on the other end of the conversation just kept posting links to stuff he'd Googled.

Thanks, but I already spent the entirety of last weekend doing that all by myself.

Bless his heart.

I'm probably going to end up having to buy a new modem/router doohickey from Best Buy or somewhere, as soon as I can figure out what exactly I need.

Ain't technology grand?

I've got a new ittle bitty netbook on order too, just because I got such a killer deal on it. A backup isn't a bad idea anyway, my desktop is getting some years on it. And? They're so itty bitty.. and cute.

Ah well. It's noggin doc day so I'm off at 3 to go get my head shrunk. I'll let ya'll know how that goes. In the meantime, ya'll have a good one.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Night Air

Walking out on the porch last night in the cool night air, I paused a moment. There's something about being outside at night when the temperatures hover between the heat of summer and the winter cold, a tiny taste of excitement floating on the breeze. For a moment I was taken back to summer camp, the crackling fire and stories of Indians canoeing through the Great Dismal Swamp.

I needed to get to the dollar store before they closed, but I waited, my eyes closed, inhaling, taking in the scent of the air, breathing in memories of family gatherings, the aroma of a cooling BBQ grill, the taste of cold beer, the sound of happy rednecks laughing and remembering the joy of chasing lightning bugs around my Aunt Gail's backyard.

Memories of late night rendezvous, sitting on the hood of a police car in an empty shopping mall parking lot, snuggling up to the crisply ironed surface of a dark uniform, his aftershave mixing with the fragrance of the night air.

Walking in sand, the sound of waves rolling gently into shore, beach side campfires, giggly preteens spying on boys as they walk past their campsites at night, feeling so grownup, little women who don't really know a thing.

Breathe deep.

Big Ol' Hooters Only Get You So Far

There's a bright, yellow-white orb hovering over Frog Pond Holler this morning, I thought it was an alien invasion, but apparently it's just the sun. I haven't seen it in so long, I'd forgotten what it looked like. The °45 temps are almost like a tropic blast, inspiring me to dig up a tank top and shorts.

Just around the house. I'm not going out dressed like this.

It seems my trashy big boobed cousin with the lazy eye, her youngin and her internet-N.Y. husband aren't speaking to any of us since The Amazon refused to let her have her debit card number. It doesn't surprise me, it's just how they roll. I couldn't care less about any of them but the youngin. It's sad they've dragged her into their crazy.

I know, everyone says their family is messed up. Then they meet mine and realize theirs isn't really that bad.

T.B.B. has a history of creating drama, from admitting her first pregnancy was intentional to try to "trap herself a man" to her nearly going to jail over a stolen tobacco crop.

God forbid she should just get a damn job. She'd rather hook up with some triflin' thing just like herself who won't work and who's only skill is making excuses.

I guess eventually she'll figure out that big ol' hooters will only get you so far in life.

Anywho..

I took Ayla and Sammy back to the vet yesterday morning, Ayla for her last puppy shot, Sammy for a second shot for mange. I took a half a nerve pill before I went, trying to avoid the massive cold sweat anxiety fit I usually have when I go, but I ended up seeing the sweet, used-to-be-sexy-until-he-got-married, put-on-weight-and-shaved-his-head-vet who shares my love for big dogs. He fawned over Ayla and told her how lucky she was and stuff.

He definitely knows how to put people at ease.

Both are healthy and getting fat and sassy, Pupzilla has gained five pounds in two weeks and Sammy's skin is silky soft.

Other than that, I've been kinda taking it easy this weekend. I've piddled around the house, napped and piddled some more. I plan more of the same today.

I hope ya'll have had a great weekend so far. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Kevin Smith, Tiger Woods and My Opinion, Because I Know You Care

I've not had a good ol' southern fried hissy fit on current events in a while, so here are my opinions on the latest:

Tiger Woods- Do we really need a press conference? He's a GOLFER for God's sake, who cheated on his wife.. ALOT. We all know he's not sorry for cheating, he's just trying to save what's left of his reputation and wishing he never got caught. He's worried about endorsement contracts, not his marriage. I don't even care that he cheated, I just don't see why there has to be a big press conference when a sports personality can't keep his Wanderin' Willy in his pants.

Seriously.

The Olympics- I've watched maybe twenty minutes total. When I was younger, I'd be glued to the set, rooting for the U.S.A. I loved the ice skating, the skiing.. but now? It seems different. Too polished and flashy. I'm not entirely sure if it's the games that have changed or if it's me, but I just can't get into it.

The Snow- Can we give it a flippen rest already? It's snowing AGAIN. In the SOUTH. This ain't right ya'll.

And For the "What the Hell?" Category:

Sorry, I had to toss that in there.

My Boss- It must really suck to go through life being that blessed miserable 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It's no wonder he had a heart attack in the past. It's a shame they had to remove it. He could use one.

Jay Leno- Just. Shut. Up. You suck turtle toes. No one cares. Go away.

Kevin Smith- Southwest Airlines recently booted actor-director Kevin Smith from one of it's flights sighting his weight as a safety hazard. I've followed Mr. Smith's updates on Twitter as the story has unfolded and I've got a few thoughts on the situation. First, if this had happened to me, I would have cowered somewhere in the fetal position, crying for a week out of embarrassment. To Kevin Smith I say, give 'em hell.

Second, are there actual weight limitations? Mr. Smith was able to secure his seat belt without the aid of an extension. I thought that was the determining factor? It sounds to me like it's up to the discretion of the personnel on duty as to whether someone is "too fat to fly." Gee, catch Lucille on a bad day and she might toss Paris Hilton to the tarmac for retaining a little water.

While I'm sure I'll fly again, I can promise you I'll never set foot on a Southwest Airlines flight.

Bubbleboo- Lawd have mercy, please forgive me. Bubbleboo was so kind to bestow upon me an award:

Positive. Creative. Inspring.

 

I'm so late in accepting this award, that Bubbleboo has moved her blog since she gave it to me.

*hangs head in shame*

I always feel uncomfortable picking a few people out of the many blogs writers I admire to give awards to, so I encourage you to please check the "Brain Candy" section of my sidebar for lots of great blogs and check back often, the feed listing changes to reflect the latest postings.

And there you have it. My opinion. Because I know you care.

Later Taters!

More Snow. Really?

Pinch that Penny Until it Squeaks!

Money.

It seems to be a real issue with everyone lately, with the economy, unemployment, blah, blah, blah.. whatever.

Although I'm back to a full 40 hour work week.. even pulling a little overtime here and there.. I still have to watch every buck I can. Lately, I've discovered a couple of new resources for squeezing a few extra pennies out of my debit card and I thought I'd share.

First, I'm still clipping those coupons and scouring the web for new ones. Some of you will remember my handy dandy Pooh Bear coupon keeper from way back when, which I've dusted off and put back into commission. Clipping coupons is still my favorite way to save money.

Over Christmas, I found another easy peasy lemon squeezy way to get some money back on purchases. I do most of my Christmas shopping online, simply because we're so far out from everyone. It's cheaper to have stuff shipped than to drive all over hell and back. By registering with Ebates.com I was able to get cash back on purchases from Walmart (site-to-store and pick it up there, no shipping charges) and Borders. I've already received that check and I've since ordered a new netbook from Dell (big President's Day Sale!) through Ebates and I'm expecting a $12 rebate on that. There are all kinds of retail businesses listed, from food to clothes to electronics. There's nothing to mail in, no hassle. You just log on to your Ebates account, pick the website you want to shop on and once you make your purchase (and it ships) your account will be credited.

If you sign up for Ebates you get a $5 bonus and in the interest of full disclosure, if you use the above link to sign up, I'll get $5 too.

My next favorite money saving tip? Add Southern Savers to your blog roll, feed reader, daily to-do list.. whatever. No I'm not getting some kind of kick back for this, I honestly just think she's awesome. You'll find coupons, deals and sales there that you won't find anywhere else. Coincidentally, Southern Savers is how I found out about Ebates, but I've also gotten free ebooks, signed up for some free hard copy books from publishers and I've got a coupon for a free 20lb bag of Pedigree dog food on the way to my mailbox for adopting a shelter pup.

And believe me, I'm gonna need all the help I can get to feed Pupzilla.

One more hint: Set up a special freebie email account that you won't use for anything else and use it to sign up for websites with special offers. Setting up a separate account keeps your regular account free from spam and buy signing up with BettyCrocker.com, Pepsi.com, WorldMarket.com, or any other major retailers, you'll get special offers, coupons and online only sales. Then, see if they're on Ebates and get even more money back before you order.

Things are looking up ya'll, but it still pays to save where we can.

Ya'll have a great week and take this Monday by the cajones!

Later Taters!

I Can Handle It

If there's ever been a Friday to be thankful for, this is it.

They're calling for more of the "s" word in Frog Pond Holler today. I don't have time for this people. I've got things I need to do, stuff I need to have repaired, places to go, peeps to see. Ima need whoever took a whizz in Mother Natures Wheaties to march right up to her lair, fall to their knees and beg for forgiveness.

Remember the other day when I told ya'll that Bossman had lost his cool in the morning meeting? Well, he's got a big ol' corn cob up his butt because the guys at corporate want receipts to go with last months expense report.

Ummm.. well duh.

So anyway, that made him grumpier than usual and he needed to take it out on someone, so I got called in the office for a firm talking to yesterday.

If the man looks at me with his Boston Terrier lookin' face one more time and says, "Can't you handle it?" I will not be responsible for what I may do next.

I'll show him what I can "handle," after which he may be found cowering in the corner of his office, in the fetal position, clutching that area of his anatomy where his happy place used to be.

Back at the trailer, well it's still pooptacular, but I did get to take a shower this morning, which is great because dude.. it is HARD to fit in the kitchen sink.

*snort*

Sammy, the formerly hairless, then hairy, then hairless again Boston Baked Beagle is slowly coming back to life.. again.. and healing up fine. Yoda's been copping an attitude with Ayla, but that's just Yoda. He gets too spunky and she just pummels his little apple shaped head with her paw.

Speaking of Pupzilla, she weighed in at 23.5 pounds at her first vet visit and will be three months old tomorrow. She's pretty good about going to the door when she wants out and my plan to use my room as her "crate" has worked out nicely. I had set up a puppy crate for her before I brought her home, but she was already too big for it. My room is only slightly larger than a crate anyway.

I've got a puppy gate on order, which should make all our lives a little easier.

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

Later Taters!

Weekly Words of Wisdom

You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him wear a bikini.

~Mahala~

Vern the White Russian

It's dark and cold in the holler this morning. Dry, dusty snow is blowing across the ground with whipping winds tossing everything about.

Keep your fingers crossed that the power holds out.

Ayla, aka Pupzilla, loves it when it's colder than a well diggers butt outside. She bounces down the steps, rolls over on her back and lays there, letting the brisk air cool her belly, with her tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth. She's in arctic puppy bliss. I have a feeling we're going to have to shave her in the summer, just to keep her comfy.

There's been no improvement in the plumbing situation. I was going to say "no change" but that wouldn't be completely true. There's stuff coming out of the ground, forming a pool right in front of the porch.

Isn't that peachy as a mother humper?

It's okay though. I've got this thing down to a science with sink baths, the laundromat and washing my hair in the kitchen sink. The toilet mysteriously empties itself completely a couple of times a day. I don't know where it goes. I don't need to know. I am just thankful.

Here at the Asylum, I'm still up to my side pube in work, which is great, until I get behind, which I now am. Funny how modern pharmaceuticals can make you not give a flying you-know-what.

Bossman isn't having a good week. As you may have heard, the Colts lost the Superbowl. Bossman is from Indiana and an avid football fan. And? His wifeypoo is back in Indiana to take care of her ailing papa, meaning Bossman has no one to cook nor clean for him.

The horror!

Plus, he showed up Monday morning dragging his left foot behind him. Apparently he was strolling around the golf course (on which he lives) gathering up golf balls, when he got his ankle all jacked up. So when he lost his shit up in the manager's meeting this morning, cussin' and hollerin' like he'd done went and lost his fool mind, well.. no one was really surprised.

In other news...

A few months ago we started seeing a solid white cat lurking about in the yard, then leaving tracks leading under the house. It took a while, but T.A. eventually coaxed him onto the porch and started feeding him. He has the chubby round face and stocky body of a Russian Blue, but he's solid white with green eyes, the cutest adult cat I've ever seen. He's also the most laid back, most lovable little critter in the world. He loves snuggles and scritches, allows the dogs to sniff him and doesn't mind being carried into Ma's room for some petting.

He has to stay outside because there is no room for another being in the house and I despise having a litter box with just one cat. I wanted to call him The White Russian, for obvious reasons, so of course T.A. had to come up with some off the wall Russian word I can't pronounce, which then lead to my calling him simply "Porch Kitty." Then, I got to thinking, which I do occasionally, that veranda was another word for porch, but Veranda was not only kinda feminine, but a stupid name for a cat. So naturally, in searching for a more masculine version of Veranda, I came up with Vern.

So yeah, now Vern lives on the front porch. Because we needed One. More. Thing. to feed. I'll try to get pics of Vern, but he moves kinda quick.

Anywho, I'm going to settle in listening to some Big Band while I enter some orders. I hope it snows hiney cheek deep.. as long as the power doesn't go out.

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

Later Taters!

Hearing Voices

"It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood.. a beautiful day for a neighbor.. won't you be mine.. could you be mine? Won't you be.. my neighbor?"

Yes chil'ren, I've finally gone right over the edge, falling off into the abyss of terminal craziness.

I was up and at 'em early Saturday to get Sammy and Ayla to the vet over in Scary Hillbilly Town. While everyone around us was screaming about Snowpacolypse 2010, we just had a little freezing rain here in the holler, so the drive into Tennessee was uneventful.

Once there, I was pleased to find the lobby empty. That almost never happens on Saturdays. After tricking Sammy into the exam room (he's on to them) and Ayla's first offical anal probe (she was not pleased) the vet took Sammy back to get some blood (he had to carry him, he was not going voluntarily) I was left with Ayla in the exam room.

I was sorta thankful, I was having an anxiety fueled perspiration fit, because I'm not dorktastic enough and I have to break out in a sweat for no apparent reason. As I sat there in the quiet room, I tried to tell myself that I had no reason to be leaking all over the place, using every self-calming trick I knew.

Then it happened.

The voices.

Oh. My. Damn. I really am batshit crazy.

I looked around for a radio or something but aside from the laptop across the room, there was nothing the sounds could be coming from. I listened more closely, trying to figure out what they were saying.

"Meck-le-nooooome. Meck-le-nooooome."

What the freckin' hell?

I had seen two old farmer guys come in, the type that look like they only get to town once or twice a month. I thought maybe one of them had a VFD radio or something and that's what I was hearing, but it still didn't make sense.

"Meck-le-noooome."

Wait.. was that coming from my change purse? I'd left my big purse in the truck, carrying only my little mini purse with my check book and cards. I picked it up and found that yes.. that was where the voices were coming from.. or rather.. from my cellphone in the attached case.

I had butt dialed The Amazon.

"CHECK YOUR PHOOOOONE!!!"

I hung up on her when I realized what I'd done. I called her when we got out of there, apparently I'd butt dialed her when I got out of the truck. She'd had me on speaker phone listening to the whole, entire vet visit.

Embarrassing.

Once I got everyone home, we all took a nap. Going to the vet is stressful, yall. Especially when you hear voices.

I tried to go to the dump yesterday, but it was closed. I think they just open whenever the mood strikes. My front porch is piled with trash bags, I'm telling the neighbors I'm going for my second Hillbilly merit badge. Oh and the washer is still out there too.. and an old seat from the van. When you factor in that nice big whiff of sewage you get coming up the front steps.. well.. let's just say we're quickly becoming the nasty people of Frog Pond Holler.

Yesterday I loaded Ayla and a couple of loads of laundry in the truck and headed to the new laundromat. It's not bad actually and more importantly, it was empty. I left Pupzilla in the truck while I got it all going, then took her out for a walk around town. We walked down to the river and nosed around a little, then wandered around the big lawn at the spa before heading down to the post office to check the mail. When we returned to the laundromat, our clothes weren't quite done, so we sat out on the bench and watched traffic go flying by for a bit.

Oh and because I was wearing pants that were just a tad too short and no socks with my tennis shoes (they were all in the wash) everyone I knew drove by and waved.

My intentions were to get my coupons together and go to the grocery store after I got both loads of clothes home and into the dryer, but that didn't happen. By the time I carried two loads of soaking wet clothes from the truck to the house, my back was screaming, "OH MY GAWD YOU DUMBASS!!!"

The grocery store could wait. I told Ma I'd run to the dollar store for come Cokes and something for dinner, so she handed me a list.. because apparently she couldn't hear my back screaming obscenities.

I wallered my big butt back up in the truck and pulled out of the drive, no easy task because our entire yard is filled with mud. I have to use my 4x4 just to make it out to the road. I'm so farkin' redneck. It was dark by then and I spotted two headlights flying up behind me as I pulled out. They were riding my hiney pretty close and it ticked me off, so I just took my foot off the gas. Were I feeling a little pissier, I would have slammed on my brakes, but I felt like being nice.. sorta. I slowed waaay down before I pulled in the dollar store parking lot. Imagine my delight when I discovered it was none other than Bubbles, bringing the whole brood back from Sunday night services.

And? She stopped at the dollar store, parking waaay on the other side of the parking lot, then sending her Bubbahubby inside, who avoided me like the plague.

Heh. He's askeered of me.

Needless to say, I'm plumb tuckered from my weekend adventures. I don't even mind that this morning I was faced with a tub of left over water and assorted filmy substances from T.A.'s shower last night, making it impossible for me to have one before work, or that my hair is doing strange and wondrous things. I'm just thankful I can sit down for a while.

I reckon I should get back to work. I could.. possibly.. get caught up today. We'll see.

Ya'll take care, we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Of Pupzilla and Bingo Wings

They're calling for more non-specific ... stuff.. to fall out of the sky over Frog Pond Holler this weekend. The general opinion is that we'll get more freezing rain than anything else, but we're right on the rain/snow line so.. who knows what'll happen.

I figure it'll probably be a blizzard, seeing how I have to take Pupzilla and the Boston Baked Beagle to the vet in Scary Hillbilly Town tomorrow morning. Pupzilla needs her incision checked and the Beagle butt's hair is falling out again.

I think I'm gonna make him a full body doggy toupe'.

I'm still convinced he's got mites. If I haul him all the way down there and they give me more antihistamines (they do nothing) ya'll might hear about me on the news.

SCARY HILLBILLY TOWN-A Frog Pond Holler woman was arrested on Saturday when she unleashed her ginormous puppy, dubbed "Pupzilla" by locals, on the employees and patrons of a local veterinary clinic. Cries of, "Oh my goodness look how cute she is," turned to screams of horror as Pupzilla lept on unsuspecting heads, ripping the hair from their scalps and growling like an angry gorilla instead of the 11 week old pup she was.

An eye witness to the carnage had this to say, "The blood.. the hair.. the gut wrenching puppy farts fueled by table scraps of Bojangles chicken.. it was horrible!"

So yeah.. pray for mange treatment or I may have to take up a collection for bail money.

Back at the trailer, our plumbing still isn't fixed. We're having a horrible time getting anyone to come out and take care of it. We've had lots of promises, but no one has shown up yet. It's getting a little smelly.

Guys who do plumbing work tell us they can't because they don't have a backhoe. We found someone with a backhoe who said he'd come dig it up, but he and the plumber/handyman guy can't seem to agree on a time when they're both free.

Here at the Asylum, it's busy ya'll. I've got papers up to my bingo wings and Bossman is back to his perpetually pissed off state of being. It doesn't bother me though, I'm too busy trying not to doze off. My friend FMF has been hanging around a little the past few days, making it hard for me to get anything done. I have a feeling that once I get out of jail get home from taking the furbabies to the vet, I'll sleep the whole weekend away.

After I haul a bunch of stuff to the dump. Oh yeah.. and go to the laundromat. And mop the kitchen.. to remove puppy footprints and other puppy byproducts, which get wiped up yet are still screaming for a good scrubbing. I should probably do my taxes too.

I do hope I get a chance to play in my clay a little this weekend, I've got a few things I'd like to make. I'm not on another big money making scheme by the way. I just like to play in the stuff.

Anywho, it's Friday ya'll. We've almost got this week licked. Hang in there and we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Weekly Words of Wisdom

Money will not buy happiness, but it can buy lots of alcoholic beverages and batteries.

~Mahala~

Getting Humped in So Many Ways

I'm getting so addle minded, I may end up in the home before Ma does.

I stopped at the dollar store on the way home the other day. I needed a case of bottled water, some extra fixin's for dinner and some pseudo Zyrtec so I could stop coughing my head off every afternoon, promptly at 3 o'clock.

After I did my hunting and gathering, I got in line behind Bubba Joe Bob and Cindy Lou Hoo and waited patiently as they "hey-howdied" every person who came in the front door, distracting them from putting their items on the counter in a timely manner.I did learn a few things while standing there behind them though, like that Cindy Lou Hoo had been putting up backer all day for $8 an hour and that Bubba Joe Bob sure did like that "throw back" Mountain Dew better than the new stuff.

Bubba Joe bob and Cindy Lou Hoo finally got checked out and I slung my ginormous case of spring water on the counter, followed by other assorted goodies. The cashier was a tiny blonde with thick glasses, around the Amazon's age, who always smiles when she sees me coming. I'm never quite sure if she's happy to see me or if she's giving me the "always smile at crazy people" smile.

She rang up my stuff, I swiped my card and then looked at me, smiling, and said, "Oh my! It says it's expired!"

I looked at her, my mouth hanging open, my eyes like saucers and said, "Oh crap.. it's the first isn't it?" The little blonde with the thick glasses nodded. "I've got my new card out in the truck, I'll be back in a second."

I waddled like the wind out to the truck, found my new card, remembered that I'd never activated it, then climbed in the cab and took off for the bank. Driving through town, praying there wasn't a line at the ATM, I nearly took down an ancient forest service volunteer who was shuffling across the street without a care in the world.

You'd think if you were that old, you'd be in a hurry to get somewhere, time being of the essence and all.

There was no line at the ATM, so I scrambled for my new card, ran inside and did a balance inquiry to activate the debit card and was informed by the snotty new ATM that my pin number was incorrect.

I have had the same pin since 1987. I think I probably know it by now.

But then.. I remembered getting something from the bank in the mail.. something about a pin.

CRAP.

I jumped back in the truck, drove home to three very excited dogs (Mommy's Home!!) ignoring them and sitting down to shuffle frantically through the mail, all while rattling off the whole story to T.A who kindly handed me her debit card to go get my $18 worth of junk from the dollar store.

So. Embarrassing.

Then yesterday? Ayla ate my cellphone and I spent the first thirty minutes of my workday trying to stick the big button that controls everything back in the hole it fell out of.

It's gotta get better right?

Heh.

This morning I left my cellphone at home, locked in the bedroom with Ayla. I may or may not have one when I get home at lunch. Then? When I finally did get to work, I got a call from the campground store telling me I left my now activated debit card there when I stopped to get a biscuit.

The home is sounding better and better to me.

Anywho... it's Humpday ya'll. Hump it like a ... wait.. that reminds me. Also? Last night, my sweet little spayed FEMALE puppy took extreme delight in attacking my calf, humping it like a little horndog.

I think I need a vacation.

Ya'll take care. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!

And In a Flash it Was Gone

Where the crap did my weekend go?

My brain is all cornfuzzled at the moment, for various reasons, so instead of pretending to have the mental stamina to compose complete sentences into anything closely resembling a paragraph, I give you my list of things I learned this weekend:

• When your plumbing borked all to hell, it doesn't matter how many times you clean the affected areas, your house will stink. The six piles of dirtly laundry distributed throughout the house contribute to the aroma. I feel like the greasy people who lived in the trailer park down the road from us when I was shacking up with the ex-con.
• If your sweet, little fuzzball of a puppy starts stealing entire LOGS from the fireplace hearth at 10 weeks old, it's a pretty good indication that she's going to be strong enough to kick your ass.
• Trying to give the puppy a good brush out of her crazy thick coat, so your bed doesn't smell like yard dirt when you get up in the morning (I don't let her sleep on the bed, she just DOES,) is sorta like trying to groom an eight legged drunken grizzly bear.
• When the weather gurus are calling for a major snowstorm and you've got a drawer full of extra batteries and a porch covered with emergency firewood, it's probably going to snow everywhere but the holler.
• An Amazon child with a newly acquired vehicle will be itching to drive it somewhere.. anywhere.. to the point of volunteering to go grocery shopping. As Martha would say.. it's a good thing.
• You never fully appreciate the awesomeness of a good nap until you hit 40.
• When you realize your new pup was born on Friday the 13th, you shouldn't be surprised that your Scary Hillbilly Town vet doesn't do free shelter pup checkups or accept the insurance you got free for thirty days with the adoption. Yay.

It's chaos at the Asylum this morning, with stubborn programmers, sick family members and end-of-month accounting breakdowns.

I think I'm gonna crawl under my desk and hide.

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

Later Taters!