The Latest from Frog Pond Holler

Lawd have mercy. It's not even 11 o'clock and I've already been humpin' it like a horny toad all morning. It's good to be busy, but dang.

It's been a while since we got caught up with the latest and greatest news around the holler, so here goes:

Around Town: The new visitors center is open for business but I never see any visitors there, just old fellers, spitting tobacco and modeling the latest in denim overall fashion. Maybe they're the welcoming committee. I liked the old caboose that stood there before, but no one asked me so..

I reckon the tree huggers down at the campground store grill are still in business, but I think it's just a matter of time until they give up. I'm a little afraid of what will happen when the biker rally hits the campground this summer. Things could get ugly. If I had the money, I'd buy myself an old delivery truck and set it up outside the campground like the lunch wagons that used to line up outside the high school when when I was a kid back in Virginia. There's something about a BBQ sandwich with a dab of cole slaw, wrapped in wax paper and handed to you with a grin and a thank you that makes it taste so much better. Oh and you have to eat it with a canned drink and a bag of chips.

At the Cubicle Asylum: There was a bit of a shake up with the managers over the past couple of weeks. Tiny was promoted to a new position and sent to our other plant and PG (Purchasing Guy) was "offered" Tiny's old job while continuing to over see the purchasing department. Rumor has it that if Tiny had turned down his new position, PG would have been laid off, his position being eliminated completely.

Kinda scarey.

Bossman is being a poopie head but then.. that's not news.. that's just normal. The only time he's happy is when he emits a strong odor resembling alcohol.

Back at the Trailer: The couch is broken again. I'm pretty sure it's beyond repair this time. T.A. likes to sit in the hole while she surfs the innerwebs with her laptop. Miss Kittypuss has declared the hole leading under the couch her lair and hides until you sit on the good end. Just when you least suspect it, a claw emerges from behind the cushion to leave a slap mark on your backfat behind. It's really creepy when her head appears from the center of the couch, ears back and pupils dilated like she's been smoking crack under there all day.

Yeah.. so I need a new couch.

My trashy-big-boobed-cousin-with-the-lazy-eye was at the house weedeating when I went home for lunch yesterday. It was sort of hit and miss, they've totally ruined my yard, I mean aside from the giant weed patch that was supposed to be a garden and the big trench exposing the sewer line. Oh, didn't I mention that? The Leprechaun came back and filled in about two feet of the 20 foot trench the other day. The rest is still just a giant gaping hole. I'm thinking of filling it with water and adding a few goldfish.

Never pay the repairman before he finishes the job. Lesson learned.

But anywho, I'm going to get a lawnmower as soon as I can find one for cheap. It's too snakey around here to let the grass get that tall. It'll cause a big stink amongst the kinfolk for me to cut my own grass (don't ask) but I reckon that's just tough toenails.

And as for Me: Well.. I'm chugging along. My body has been all to hell for the past couple of months, I'll spare you the details but female problems galore are causing FMF flares that just never end, rendering me so lazy and bitchy that I can barely stand myself. But it's okay. I know it's only temporary and a month or two from now I'll look back on this period of time and wonder what the hell my problem was.

At least the "bitchy" isn't as "crazy" as it used to be. Thank God for little yellow pills.

I've been thinking a lot about that book I used to talk about writing. Maybe even one or two. All ya'll would buy one, right?

It's nearly lunchtime here at The Asylum, so I'd better get moving. Ya'll have a humpalicious Humpday and for gawdsake, don't hurt yourself.

Later Taters!

Beaver Teats and Square Pigs

I try to eat reasonably well. Honest. Most of the time. Sort of. But once in a while, I just want something for breakfast that isn't whole grain, multi fiber, freshly picked or full of wholesome goodness. Sometimes, I want a big, fat, greasy sausage, egg and cheese biscuit from the campground store grill.

Granted, when I do, I take the chance of sending Mr. G. Bladder in to a tap dancing, partying fit in the wee hours of the morning with lots of hurling and wretching, but hey, it's a chance I'm willing to take in exchange for some greasy goodness.

Don't judge me.

Unfortunately(or fortunately, for Mr. G,)I recently learned that the new proprietors down at the grill are of the tree hugger variety, would no longer be serving biscuits and loved to do "fun things" with tofu.

*insert eyeroll here*

I could order a biscuit from the Grab N' Go (and go and go) and they'd deliver it right to my desk, but they won't let you pay for it then. You have to start a tab. Then? They make it damned near impossible for you to pay your tab (the person who handles that isn't there, they never come by and pick up money etc.) and when it gets over $100 they try to get you to come wait tables for minimum wage to work it off.

No. Seriously. It's like.. the Hillbilly Mafia. Thelma's in to them for like $300. She's not had a whole weekend off in 6 months.

Anywho...

The Amazon came in around 7:30 this morning after staying at a friend's house playing some geektastic role playing game with wizard types and other assorted weirdos in pursuit of intellectual stimulation until the wee hours of the morning. Just as I was about to leave, giving myself enough time to stop at the Pump N' Go to grab a nuke-ro-wave Jimmy Dean biscuit, she suggested a breakfast burrito from the campground store grill. She'd had one before and assured me that it included sausage, eggs and cheese, was huge and yummy.

It didn't take much convincing, especially when I realized she could deliver it fresh and hot to the office after she picked it up. I've not gotten anything there since the management changed over, now that the campground store grill doesn't start cooking breakfast items until 8 a.m., the same time I have to be at work.

T.A. delivered my burrito around 8:15. I took one look at the, large wrapped concoction and decided I'd need a fork. To eat it without the use of a utensil of some kind would require the use of both hands and the extreme widening of my mouth resulting in lude and lascivious remarks from the office pervs and then I'd have to use the the lengthy, heavy culinary wonder as a weapon, using it to beat the offender senseless about the head and shoulders, causing burrito guts to splatter the whole office.

And honestly. Who'd want to eat it after that?

Lulu joined me at my desk, fascinated by the mass of foil wrapped breakfast that sat before me. She watched intently as I pulled back the covering to expose what was inside. A tiny bit of orange tumbled out.

"Wots that?" she asked, pointing to the piece of vegetable matter lying on my desk.

"I think it's a carrot," I answered. I looked at Lulu. "That can't be right. Why would there be carrots?"

"Wot are them little square things?" she asked, pointing to tiny brown cubes mixed amongst the egg.

"Sausage?" I said.

"Musta come from a square pig."

Lulu shook her head and slinked back to her office, leaving me to wrangle the morning meal, plastic fork in hand. In all honesty, it wasn't that bad. It did have lots of onions, which I had to pick out. I love them but they don't like me. The salsa was pretty spicy for first thing in the morning. By 9 o'clock my tummy had started doing the gut rumble and it just kept getting better as the day went on.

And yes, they were carrots.

Weird.

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

Later Taters!

Note: I started this post on Friday, when the offending burrito was actually eaten. I tried to finish it several times over the weekend, the post, not the burrito, but ya know how that goes. The Amazon got the exact same thing for breakfast and thought it was great, suffering no ill effects. She swears it had real sausage. I think it was tofigglet, but I don't have any proof. Cheese would have helped, but knowing those weirdos down at the Campground Store Grill, they would have put something gross on there like organic beaver cheese, from the milk of free range beavers, kept in a loving environment, where strolling minstrels play Greensleeves on lutes as the children produced from the union of angels and honey bees gently stroke their teats, collecting the fresh beaver milk by the light of the full moon.


I'm going to jump all over this Monday and get some stuff done. Ya'll do the same. Laters!

Jellybeans, Babies and Nibbletts

I ran into an old co-worker down at the Pump N' Go on the way to work yesterday morning. I told ya'll about her way back when, on that other blog that I had to kill because of Bubbles' big mouth. Jellybean worked in the sales department with Bubbles back when they kept it out in the dungeon, in another part of the building. She and I never got along much, although I did try for a while. She had worked with Ma before she came to work here, when Ma worked down at the river rafting company with all the smelly hippy people.

Ma, of course, thought Jellybean was God's gift to office employees everywhere and sang her praises whenever I mentioned her. She'd go on and on about how great she was and how Jellybean didn't have to work because her family was so well off. I guess Jellybean had never ripped her a new one for paging her to the phone or climbed up her butt sideways for taking a message when she thought she should be paged.

To say Jellybean and I clashed is an understatement.

Ma would say I was just too sensitive. Whatever.

Jellybean was fired from her job here when, after having a baby at 40, she came in late, left early, took two hour lunches and didn't show up half the time. Of course, when I moved into her position in sales upon her departure, the town rumor mill got cranked up and decided I'd "gotten her fired."

I don't know how in the hell all these people figure I've got so much pull around here. It seems like every time people start laying out, not calling in and eventually getting fired for it, I get blamed. It wasn't me that got her preggers. And? I couldn't help that the Bubba Baby Daddy was going to court, accused of sexual misconduct with his other daughter and that Jellybean had to miss work when she was summoned to court as a witness. She was apparently present when whatever happened took place.

Anywho...

I haven't seen Jellybean in about four years but I came face to face with her when I turned to leave the Pump N' Go yesterday morning. I spoke, but she just gave me The Big Fat Hairy Eyeball. This time last year it would have really bothered me, but ya know what? That's right... screw her and her old sourpuss self. I couldn't care less.

~ ♥ ~

I was informed via text by The Amazon yesterday that the owner of the sandwich shop had presented her with a bill for $50 for the sign I crushed last week. So much for "don't worry about it." It's a good thing I got my federal refund in the mail yesterday.

It's already gone, but some stuff is paid off.  Now if my state would just come in...

~ ♥ ~

Remember RiRi Niblett and her amazing, undeniable coochie? Well, guess what I found out. That's right. RiRi has a corn muffin in the oven. The jury's still out on who the baby daddy is, but rumor has it that Maddie took that triflin' piece of chicken poop back. He's been seen in and around the holler for the past month, doing his best to avoid Maddie's mom and everyone else who knows what he did.

The plot thickens.

If I was that boy, I'd be keeping a fire extinguisher nearby at all times.

On that note, I'd better get back to work, humping it for the man. It is Humpday after all.

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

Later Taters!

Heartless, Blind and Sleepy

It's a rainy and gray Monday morning in Frog Pond Holler. We're under flood warnings here while the creek is running wild and muddy after the weekend's rainstorms.

I was surprised to see Bossman's car in The Asylum parking lot when I pulled up, he left on Friday to have some heart tests done and really thought he'd either be having one of those balloon thingies this morning or worse, heart surgery again. When he left, he was scared shitless, but this morning he reports that they didn't find anything wrong.

There's a joke in there somewhere about being heartless, but I'm going on a couple hours sleep and I forgot my glasses, so you'll have to figure it out yourself.

Over the weekend, I hacked on the forsythia bush some more. I've got some cheap hedge clippers and the mess I've created by blindly chopping away at the ginormous growth is probably a crime against nature, but I'm sure it'll grow back. I'd send you a picture, but Ayla ate my camera.

We also set out some cucumber plants at the end of the house and along the ramp. Just planting that little bit kicked my keister, if I'd started a whole big garden as planned, I'd probably be in traction. By the time I piddled around inside all day Saturday, I was worn out. I wasn't worth a plug nickel yesterday.

Sometime Saturday, Ma informed me that they were delivering her bed today. You'll remember she said the same thing last week but I never saw hide nor hair of a bed. There's no telling who she's calling and what's being delivered, if anything.

I'll worry about it when and if they show up.

My lack of sleep last night is partially due to assorted aches and pains and some of it is because of a certain, large, hairy beast who's decided that if she sits beside the bed at 1a.m., stares in my face and barks manically I'll get up. Around 3a.m. I started questioning my decision to get such a big, obnoxious dog but it's easy to forget she's still a pup. This morning when my alarm went off, I reached up to hit the snooze button and Ayla hopped up on the bed and curled up against me for snuggles.

Yeah.. the puppy stuff is only temporary. Someday I'll look back on this and laugh.

I really wish she hadn't eaten my camera though.

Anywho..

It's going to be an interesting morning without my glasses, I didn't realize how blind I'd gotten. I'm sure I'll get by. I'm not going anywhere near the sandwich shop. I didn't see that sign with my glasses on.

Ya'll have a good one. If you have to have a Monday, at least you can make it your biatch.

Later Taters!!

Daisy Mae's Subs N' Stuff

Across the road from the Pump N' Go there's a little sandwich shop, right in the center of town, a rinky-dink little place with stained carpet and plastic flower decorations. They have the best food in town. I don't get a chance to eat there very often, they close early and they don't take debit cards (I never carry cash.)

Wednesday morning I decided I wanted something from Daisy Mae's Subs N' Stuff for lunch so, being the awesomest mom in the word and the bestest daughter that ever walked the earth, I decided to pick up lunch for all three of us. I called The Amazon at the Pump N' Go, asking her to find out what her nana wanted, call it all in and I'd pick it up at noon.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy, right?

I left the office at noon, bopped down the hill and around the corner to the ATM and withdrew $40. I knew sandwiches for the three of us would probably be around $20 (another reason I don't eat there much, it's good but they're a little high) and I owed Thelma $4 for a cake for Tiny's going away lunch. I stuck the cash in my hoodie pocket as I waved to some of the guys from the plant who were inside cashing their checks, then climbed back in Jolene to go pick up lunch.

Daisy Mae's daughter was working the counter down at the sandwich shop and although I'd never set foot in the place before in my life, she knew exactly who I was and what I was picking up.

It's a small town thing and... it's a little creepy.

The total was $19.58, I handed her a $20, collected my little bag of food and after a little small talk, hopped back in Jolene to leave.

I put the truck in reverse and started backing out. What happened after that is sort of a blur, the only details I can be absolutely sure of are:

1. There was a very loud crunching sound.
2. When I put the truck back in drive to pull up and see if I'd hit something, the very loud crunching sound repeated itself.
3. A lady walking across the parking lot to her car found Jesus.
4. I may or may not have nearly soiled my granny panties
5. The very large, wooden sandwich shop sign that had, until moments before, sat by the side of the road, surrounded by freshly planted pansies was now kindling. I don't even want to talk about what happened to the pansies.

By now, all the guys who had been at the bank cashing their checks were grabbing lunch over at the Hillbilly Grocery across the street or buying smokes from T.A. at the Pump N' Go.

Could this be more embarrassing?

Once I shook off the fog created by the realization of what had just happened, I went back inside the shop and told Daisy Mae's daughter that I was sorry but I'd just crushed their sign.

"Oh that's alright. It was ugly anyway," she said.

"Oh no.. let me give you my phone number, you just call me when you find out how much it's going to cost to fix."

"No no no, don't worry about it," she added, "it's okay. You didn't get hurt did you?"

Bless her heart. I wanted to hug her, but I feared she might be acting kindly only because she heard I was that batshit crazy chick who lived in that trailer on the edge of town that wreaked of sewage and sounded like there were 500 pit bulls locked inside whenever someone knocked on the door.

Not that I've got a complex or anything.

I stopped at the station and told T.A., who informed we would now have to change our names and move to another state, before heading home, tossing Ma's sandwich in her general direction and hiding in my bedroom for the remainder of my lunch hour.

I was able to forget my trauma long enough to enjoy the sandwich. It was mighty tasty.

After emailing a friend and whining like a big baby, I felt a little better. I grabbed my hoodie, my purse and a Pepsi (don't judge, I think a frosty cold Michelob would have been justified, all things considered)  and headed back to the Asylum. As I started out the door, I remembered the money I owed Thelma and checked my pockets.

My $20 was gone.

Now, I don't know about ya'll, but $20 is a pretty big chunk of change for me. I felt sick. I was already running late, so I had no choice but to just forget about it for the moment and get back to the office. I called T.A. from my cubicle, asking her to run back to the bank for me when she got off to cash a check for $10 so I could give Thelma what I owed her.

I felt like the Universe was humping me hard on that Humpday.

Since then, I've found one small scratch on Jolene's tailgate. I can live with that. There's a new sign up at Daisy Mae's Subs N' Stuff. They say her bubbahubby was seen Wednesday afternoon, standing at the side of the road, shaking his head in disbelief, clutching his tape measure . Apparently he'd just built the new sign last weekend after a big storm blew the previous sign across the road. The pansies had only been in the ground since the day before, when Daisy Mae knelt at the curb, lovingly propping the delicate little flowers up so they'd be straight and pretty.

The Amazon called me late yesterday afternoon to tell me she'd found my $20 in the kitchen floor.

I guess you can see why I'm glad this week is about over. It's been one for the record books. I'm looking forward to the weekend.

Here's wishing ya'll a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!

Get your golf accessories at InTheHoleGolf.com

It's Hard to Stay Sane When You're Surrounded by Crazy

The air's been cool and tingly in Frog Pond Holler the past few days, perfect weather for working in the yard. Aunt Moses showed up on Mother's Day to cut the grass with Uncle G in tow. She looks out for him since Aunt Martha died, as long as my cousin keeps up the payments.

I'm not exaggerating when I tell you the grass was butthole deep to a black bear. Aunt Moses had to give up on using the small, easy to push mower, leaving and coming back with a big industrial sized contraption. Even then she had to bungee the grass-spitter-outer- thingie open and mow 5 inch strips to keep it from clogging up.

While Aunt Moses mowed, Ma put on some pants (thank the Lord) and joined Uncle G out on the porch. Aunt Martha and Ma were very close, our families had houses directly across the street from each other back in Norfolk and Uncle G worked with That-Man-Ma-Was-Married-To-&-Whose-DNA-I-Share at the dairy plant.

Yes, my daddy really was the milkman.

Now Uncle G gets really confused when you ask him questions about family, he knows he had a wife that died, but can't recall her name most of the time. He thinks Ma is one of his sisters, wonders how I got so old and has no idea who The Amazon is.

Considering Ma's state of mind lately, I'm embarrassed to admit how entertained I was by the conversation she had with Uncle G out on the front porch that morning.

Speaking of Ma and her escapades, she cornered me in the kitchen the other morning to tell me that she didn't need me to take care of her, but that when my daddy dies and I get some money, not to embarrass her by forcing her to ask for some of it.

*blink*

First of all, I don't know nor care if she's heard that the sperm donor has contracted some fatal disease and second, I can bet you the change in the bottom of my purse that if and when the old pedo croaks, I won't be getting a dime.

Oh and? She informed me that she needs a vehicle, even though she knows she won't ever drive again.

Sure lady, let me go out in the yard and just whip a big ol' Cadillac out of my butt, kay? You say you know you can't drive it, but it'll do so much for your peace of mind.

Sheesh.

Last night T.A. informed me that Ma was having a new bed delivered today. She waited until then to tell us about it. There's no telling what I'll find when I go home for lunch. Thankfully, I've still got plenty of "Oh-holy-hell-I'm-losing-my-shit" pills. I made the comment to T.A. that her Nana should probably be getting her room cleaned up if they were bringing a bed. If you'll remember, I busted a hump getting it clean when she was in the hospital recently and it took her about a week to throw everything back in the floor.

"Oh," T.A. said, "she's having them assemble it in the living room. She doesn't want them going in her room."

Hello? What kind of mutha freakin' sense does that make?? And WHO do you reckon she's planning on having take it apart and moving it?

If you listen closely, you can hear me quietly banging my head against the wall.

Anywho...

At least it's Humpday. I think I'm going to go outside and get some fresh air. I'm about two seconds away from shoving Bossman's chrome dome in a filing cabinet drawer and seeing how many times I can slam it shut.

Not that I'm feeling a little pissy today or anything.

Ya'll have an excellent Humpday. We'll talk again soon, when I've calmed down a tad.

Later Taters!

Find anything from any year back to 1759 in the World's Largest Newspaper Archive!

Skunks, Prophecies and Dead Cameras

I awakened this morning to the fresh scent of skunk juice, the perfect start to a Monday morning. They only seem to spray right outside my bedroom window. It smells nasty enough to make your toenails curl.

Speaking of toenails, mine is going to fall off. It's turned solid white.. like death white. I can wiggle it, which feels gross but I'm compelled to try at least once a day. I have a feeling my gimp toe is going to be a source of sick amusement for me for quite a while. 

Don't worry, I'll be sure to share any new developments. 

~ ♥ ~

I wrote awhile ago about having read the Celestine Prophecy books and the effect they had on me. Recently my thoughts have wandered back to things of a spiritual nature, sort of in the back of my mind, tapping on the door of my consciousness. Having made it through therapy has helped to clear out some of the junk spinning around in there enough for me to make sense out of some things. 

Okay, that sounded a little nutso.. even for me. 

Anywho..

Yesterday I was laying around being lazy keeping my toe elevated after spending Saturday weed whacking and hedge lopping and decided to kick back with my net book and watch a movie. When I stumbled across a movie version of The Celestine Prophecies I squeed with glee. 

No, for real. I squeed. It made me happy. 

~ ♥ ~

Remember the other day when I said Pupzilla had eaten my camera case? Well, she not only ripped through the indestructible Samsonite case, she gnawed a big chunk out of the buttons. The camera comes on, but that's about it. If you can't push the button, you can't take pictures and well.. dammit.. now I don't have a camera. The really sucky bit? Just hours before realizing my camera had been rendered useless, I had ordered a new usb cable for the damn thing, because Pupzilla ate that too. 

I love my pup but dang.

She'll be six months old this Thursday. Maybe we're almost done with the chewing stage. 

Yeah I know. Let me dream okay?

~ ♥ ~

Alright ya'll, let's take this Monday by the chin hairs and hit the ground running. Spring is in the air, the birds are squawking and there's a rustling in the brush. It's time to get moving. 

We'll talk again soon!

Later Taters!

Shop now and receive FREE shipping on the Bugaboo Cameleon and select accessories. The Cameleon gives you numerous color options on both the base and the canvas tailored fabric. Mix and match to find your own style!

Toe Vesuvius

Warning: The following is a little gross, but I promise there aren't any pictures.

Do ya'll remember back about a month ago when I dropped the doghouse on my big toe? It hurt for about a week, then eased off... or seemed to at least after I banged my baby toe on the vacuum cleaner a few days later.

The nail on my big toe has been a hot topic of discussion and a source of entertainment for everyone at my house as it's gone from blue to purple to a greenish brown then white with some dark speckles. I figured it would eventually fall off (the nail, not my whole toe) but I wasn't too worried about it.

Until yesterday...

I was at my desk concentrating on Twitter and Facebook working hard and getting orders entered when I happened to glance down at my big toe, screeching in disbelief.

"LULU!!!!OH MY GAWD COME HERE!"

"What in the world? Are you a' dyin'??" she asked, half laughing.

As she rounded the corner to my cubey, I pointed to my toe, my mouth hanging open, my eyes wide with surprise.

"Ooooooh Mahala. That's... not good. No. That's gonna rawt right off." It's a good thing she never finished nursing school. Her bedside manner sucks.

The end of my toe was covered in blood and what appeared to be other fluids and.. stuff.. seeping from under my toenail. I couldn't wait to limp back to Bossman's office to ask if I could go home and administer some first aid, just so he would have to look at it.

He's just a tad bit on the squeamish side.

I ended up getting some peroxide and bandages from the tool crib for some doctorin' on the fly. Lawd that thing boiled up like a volcano, spewing it's infested lava all over sandal and saturating the paper towels I'd put under it. My inner 12 year old with the odd fascination for gross things was silently amazed at the uber coolness of what was going on with my foot.

I never claimed to be normal.

After the eruption was over, I covered Toe Vesuvius with a knuckle bandage and limped around the rest of the day. It was sore, but not too bad. On the way home, I stopped at the dollar store for an econo sized bottle of peroxide and other supplies.

I was prepared.

Back at the trailer, me and The Amazon dug up some dirt to make room for a couple of tomato plants, to the amusement of the nosy weed whacker guy over at the rental house. He doesn't know how close he came to losing a vital organ when he came over to supervise T.A. wielding a shovel.

"Are you a' diggin? That ground's awful hard. Ain't you got no maddock? That feller that was a workin' on your crap pipe had one. Why didn't you borry his?"

I love neighbors.

Once that was done (I've got sunflowers coming up too. Yaay!) I went back inside, unbandaged my toe and poured a crap load of peroxide in it, cleaning it out good and slapping some Neosporin on there before wrapping three bandaides around it.

Today? It's less sore. I think (hope) it was just a blood blister under there that popped.. or something. If it gets worse or grows a horn or anything over the weekend, I'll take it to the urgent care thingy. Lulu and I have decided that if my toenail does fall off, I'm going to stick it in a sandwich bag and send it over to the Cutie Patootie in inner-office mail as payback for all the times I came in to work to find he'd hung my little stuffed lamb from the ceiling in a makeshift noose tied with Mardi Gras beads.

Paybacks are hell.

TGIF ya'll. If Aunt Moses ever shows up to mow our yard, which currently puts the Amazonian rain forests to shame, I'm going to tidy up the landscape a little, weed whacking and hedge lopping. I might set some more veggies out in the flower bed, I've given up on having an actual garden. The Universe keeps screaming a resounding "NO" to that little plan.

I'm slow but I do catch on eventually.

We'll talk again soon. Have a killa weekend.

Later Taters!

Pupzilla Pics, Unleashing the Beast and The Brat

I've been trying to post a picture of Pupzilla for a couple of days now, but I've had one problem after the other. First, I got some really good shots, then while attempting to delete one, accidentally deleted the whole folder.

Next, after I successfully took a few more, Ayla ate the usb cord for my camera before I got them uploaded. Luckily, my netbook has a card reader, so I wasn't too worried about it. When I tried to pull the pictures from my card, I got all kindsa error messages. I'm not sure what the deal was there, but after I spent all evening trying, I gave up and asked T.A. to load them on her laptop and email them to me.

Now? When I put the card back in my camera, it gives me another error saying the card can't be read.

Oh and then this morning I got up and found that Ayla had stolen my camera case from my computer desk and eaten it. The indestructible Samsonite case. I don't think my little Nikon was damaged, I didn't have time to really check before I came to work.

Also? Sometime last night she got a bottle of Apple Blossom body spray off my very tall dresser and chewed through the bottle, until she got a taste of what was inside. She woke me as she bounced around on my head in the midst of a hissy fit.

Now my room smells like the Apple Blossom Queen after she won a farting contest.

Anywho...

The picture above shows Ayla (aka Pupzilla) at 5 1/2 months. My bed, by the way, was nicely made before she got up there. Seconds after the above shot was taken, she had one of her psycho digging fits and pulled everything off, rolling it up into a ball and laying on top.

The gnarled plastic carnage by her paws is what's left of a water bottle, one of her favorite toys.

Fun times.

~ ♥ ~

After the Leprechaun fixed our sewer problems, I did something I've never done. I loaded my washer to the rim with dirty towels, set the load size to "super" and unleashed the beast. As you may recall, I fought with a broken washer for a couple of years (it ran, the agitator hickey was just broken.) I tried in vain to repair it myself, using every super adhesive I could find at the hardware store, scoured the internet for a replacement hickey and finally gave up and bought a new washer back in the fall.

Then, the sewer line started sending a shitstorm in to Ma's shower whenever I ran the washer. Needless to say, it's not gotten much use since then. We've been using the small load setting and washing only what we absolutely had to, resulting in ginormous piles of towels, sheets and some other unmentionables accumulating in corners all over the house.

There was an aroma ya'll. And it was far from spring time fresh.

In the past couple of days, the washer has gotten a workout and my house. Now? The scent of fabric softener lingers constantly in the air. As an added bonus, I got home yesterday to discover that T.A. had scrubbed the shower and the potty palace.. AND ran the dishwasher.

I'm in heaven ya'll. It doesn't take much to tickle the bejeezus out of me.

~ ♥ ~

I reckon I'd better get back to it. That man in the back office has been especially stabbity the past couple of days. Every time he slams a filing cabinet drawer I jump. He's only going to have to do it maybe once or twice more before I go back there and shove his glistening bald dome in one of those drawers and show him how it's done.

He's such a flippen brat.

So ya'll have a good one. It's Humpday ya'll. Hump it 'til it's spring time fresh. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

All 8.5x11 Photo Books $10 OFF at PhotoWorks.com! Use Coupon Code: MAYBOOKS. Offer valid 51310 to 6110

Leprechauns, Sunflowers and The Sweet Smell of Flushing

Oh Good Gawd. I don't even know where to start.

The guy T.A. hired to work on the sewer line finally showed up late Saturday evening to say he'd be back Sunday morning to start digging. This was after I got up way too early for a weekend, got dressed and waited for him all day.

But at least he showed up.

The fact that he looked like the scary leprechaun from the horror movie series didn't help matters or that he liked running around without a shirt so that you could see all the sweat dripping off the curly, red, shag carpet-like hair that covered his body.

I will give him credit. He worked at a frenzied pace, tossing dirt like crazy and by Sunday afternoon, he had the sewer line completely uncovered. And guess what?

Our line was completely clear, until it tied into the town's archaic sewage lines. Golly Gee Willackers Batman! Who'd a thunk it?

So he left it uncovered, then just happened to be driving by this morning as a whole crew of bubbas from the town maintenance department showed up to inspect the line. I reckon Ma called down there and had a hissy fit on them first thing. To make a very long story a little shorter, it will be completely fixed by the time I get home at lunch. It was the town's issue all along. I'm pretty sure they won't be reimbursing us, however, for all the unnecessary repairs we've paid for in the past year.

That's just how they roll.

I don't care. I'm just over freaking joyed that I can finally wash up all the laundry that's been piling up all over the house. And that the toilet will flush on a regular basis.. and may actually stay clean for more than 3 hours after we scrub the bejeezus out of it. And? The house won't smell like a campground outhouse all the time.

~ ♥ ~

Here at The Asylum, He Who Would Die of Shock if He Smiled Bossman left around 9ish, stating he didn't know what was wrong, he just felt bad and hurt all over. Coolness. I am unsupervised. I did take the necessary germ protection precautions and hose his office down with the pseudo Lysol.

You never know.

~ ♥ ~

The garden still hasn't been tilled, but I did plant some sunflowers outside my bedroom window. I'm seriously considering sticking some tomato plants in the flower bed and maybe an herb garden in one of those old tractor tires out by the road. I won't be doing anything like that in the very near future though. Aunt Moses went to the coast with my trashy big boobed cousin with the lazy eye's youngin's class last week and skipped mowing our yard.

It's butthole deep to a black bear out there. I'm not walking through that.

After she mows, I might ask the leprechaun if he's got a tiller. If he tills as fast as he digs, his $11 an hour will only ending up costing me about $20.

~ ♥ ~

My Monday got off to a rough start with no coffee, I forgot my glasses and the roof decided to leak in my cubie. I thought I was going to have to finish the day with an umbrella over my desk, but it's looking up. T.A. brought me my glasses, it stopped raining and I was able to find a hot cuppa joe in town on the way to work.

And the sewage line is fixed.

Hal-lee-loo-ya!

I hope all ya'll are having a great one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!




FREE SHIPPING on Mother's Day fruit and gourmet gifts from Golden State Fruit!