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Wayne the Tattooed Guy, The Hillbilly Mrs. And Road Trip Adventures

I left The Asylum at noon yesterday, stopped by the post office where I found the check for my 401K loan, in the amount of EVERY LAST PENNY I can borrow, crossed the road to the bank, paid the house payment and got a cashiers check made out to the scary hillbilly people who had the RV, after also draining my checking account and line of credit.

Then I went home and napped. Because spending every last dime you have is stressful. And Aunt Flo is an unpredictable old bitch.

I had to wait until the hillbilly Mrs. got off work to meet her, so me and The Amazon left the house around five-ish. She drove across the winding mountain road, the one that strikes fear in the hearts of people who drive trucks for a living, like a bat out of hell with it's ass on fire.

I aged about 5 years in an hour.

Once we emerged from the effin' wilderness, we stopped at the truck stop to tinkle, buy gas and grab a bite to eat. And because I LOVE truck stops.

Don't judge me.

The hillbilly Mrs. called while T.A. filled up her tank. I was supposed to meet her at 6:00 and it was 6:06 so she was freaking out. I guess she thought I was gonna pull a Craigslist maneuver and just not show up. I explained we were on our way. We met at a gas station and I followed her back down the dirt road where the RV sat, looking lonely and depressed, waiting to be rescued.

"Are you sure you can drive it?" she asked.

"I think so," I lied, "I'll just take the interstate back to Scary Hillbilly Town and go that way. It should be okay."

"Well, I brought Wayne," she said, pointing to her car just as Mr. Tattooed Man emerged, "he can drive it back to Frog Pond Holler and I'll follow you. I'm just concerned something will happen and go on my insurance."

"Oh. Um are you sure you want to drive all the way to Frog Pond Holler?" It was going to take at least an hour and half going the long way around.

"Sure, and I'd just feel better about the whole thing."

So Mr. Tattooed Man, who looked, acted, dressed and sounded JUST like Larry the Cable Guy, drove the RV with me riding shotgun.The hillbilly Mrs., who's husband was working out of town and who I suspect was the tattooed guy's sister, followed behind us and T.A. took up the rear.

It was a convoy ya'll. I may have even sang a few notes:



As we puttered along the interstate, Wayne the tattooed guy and I swapped stories of bad mushroom trips, acid induced visions of Smurfette and adventures buying crack in the projects (Just. Don't. Ask.) It was a good thing he was driving, because it took both of us to find the headlight switch on the gauge covered control panel that looked like mission effin' control. As darkness crept in, it became apparent that we had a problem.

The headlights were strobing like the light show at a KISS concert.

Apparently, the switch was bad and kept over heating. By the time we got to the middle of B.F.E., somewhere between Scary Hillbilly Town and the holler, we were having to stop and pull over every ten miles or so to let it the switch cool off. The hillbilly Mrs. kept apologizing, Wayne the tattooed guy kept assuring me it would be alright, he'd get us home. It was decided that should I get a wild hair up my butt and decide to run away from home, I'd probably need to do it during daylight hours.

We eventually did make it. The behemoth is sitting in front of the house. I have a call in to my cousin to come help me get it set up, but although he's not had a job in YEARS and has always had time and been willing to help out anyway he can, he's picked NOW to find gainful employment.

I hope he's free this weekend.

The RV, she looks a little rough. She's gonna need alot of TLC. My plan, cousin or not, is to fire up my camera and take a "before" video, which I'll post here and hopefully not bore all ya'll to tears and chase you away completely for your enjoyment. And then I'll have to clean. Alot. And I suspect there will be new and exciting uses found for The Amazon's zebra striped duct tape.

Ya'll stay tuned. The adventure has just begun.

We'll talk again soon. Later Taters!

P.S. You reckon since it's setting in the front yard, I should maybe tell Ma my plan?


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Prescription Stress Causes a Need for Medication

It's rainy and kinda dreary in the holler today. My eyes are all swollen from allergies, the office wreaks of dead rat and I'm getting a headache again, probably because I keep forgetting to take my blood pressure pill in the mornings.

Speaking of pills, medications and things of that nature...

I noticed the other day that I was getting low on batshitcrazy pills. I ran out of them once. We don't want that to happen again. I went online to the Wallyworld pharmacy to order a refill to pick up after work, but then got the bright idea to sign up for home delivery.

Obviously, 45 years of clusterfucked bright ideas haven't taught me a damned thing.

So I signed up, which seemed painless enough and thought all was well. I had enough pills to last about a week and they offered free shipping for 7 day delivery. But then? I got an email saying there was a problem processing my refill and that I needed to call their toll free number.

Okie dokie.

I called the toll free number, went through the stupid mutha effin automated menu, made my selection... and was DISCONNECTED. It's bad enough to be hung up on by a human, but when you get dissed by a RECORDING you've reached an all time low.

Way to go on the customer service there Wallyworld.

Needless to say, I was a tad bit miffed. I replied to the email, which clearly stated that I needed to call instead, but that wasn't working out for me, and explained that I had TRIED to call but had been disconnected.

The next day I got a reply.

"I would be happy to check on this for you, please verify your date of birth and mailing address so we may access your account."


Nice. I replied with the information. The next day I got this reply:

" What it is we have faxed your Dr for a 90 day supply and at this time we are just waiting on a response. Can you also call us at the number below so we may update your method of payment as well.

If I can assist in anything else please let me know."

What it is? Really?

So then? I called ANOTHER number and thankfully, was not hung up on, and asked the nice people at the Wallyworld home delivery pharmacy to please just cancel my order. I was now down to a couple of days worth of batshitcrazy pills and the stress they were causing me was just overriding any positive effect the medication was going to have any effin' way.

I was assured that the order was cancelled and I could order my refill right away, no problemo. I went back online (our local Wallyworld pharmacy's phone has been screwed up for weeks) to order my refill to pick up after work.

Guess what?

NO MORE REFILLS.

I called Wallyworld and by some supreme being's miraculous intervention, I got through to the pharmacy, who assured me they would contact my doctor for authorization.

I waited until the afternoon, then called back, confident that my worries were over, to make sure my prescription would be ready when I got there.

But.

The pharmacy still had not heard from my doctor.

I swear I'm not making this up ya'll.

I called the doctor's office and left a message on the God forsaken stupid butt sucking invented by assholes with too much time on their hands automated refill line. I sort of snottily left a message that I knew Walmart had been trying to contact them and I'd appreciate it if they'd DO THEIR JOB and call in my prescription before I lost my shit and stripped naked, running through the streets of Big City and singing Freebird.

Okay so maybe that wasn't the EXACT message.

The next day (I had taken my last pill the night before) I tried to play it cool. I called the pharmacy a time or two to find out if they'd heard anything. By now, I didn't even care if it got filled. I got off work at five, stopped at the post office to pick up the mail and guess what I found?

A PRESCRIPTION FOR A 90 DAY SUPPLY FROM THE DOCTOR'S OFFICE.

I shit you not people.

So great. I could just GO to Wallyworld and get the STUPID THING filled.

But wait.

I stopped at home to let Ma know I was making a run to Big City and while I was there, I got a phone call. FROM THE DOCTOR'S OFFICE. Regarding my UNPLEASANT message on their answering service.

And oh my God. I APOLOGIZED.

Why? I DON'T KNOW.

Clearly I need my ass kicked.

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

Later Taters.

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I Love It When A Plan Comes Together

After some tricky mathematical maneuvers, borrowing from Peter, Paul and my 401K, batting my eyes, wheeling and dealing.....

Again, not the ACTUAL girl cave, but the same model.

I'm picking it up on Thursday. A 1987 Hawkins Motor Coach. And some industrial strength cleaner.

Later Taters

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Ed Bagley Jr. Eats Lady Bars

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The Only Thing Missing Was Banjo Music

Today, The Amazon and I went on an adventure. We traveled over the hills and through the woods to a land about halfway between the holler and that country themed amusement park made famous by a certain blonde who's claim to fame has as much to do with her mountainous, bodacious tattas as her angelic voice.

You might say we took the scenic route.

We met up with two men at a remote gas station across the road from a Baptist church. One was of medium build, with shaggy facial hair and a prominent set of teeth. The other was about as big around as he was tall, with big, meaty arms covered in tattoos and the requisite wife beater tee. They pulled up in a truck that T.A. decided must have been built from at least 3 or 4 different models. She was later corrected, it was more like 6 or 7. We followed these two fellers down a side road, which got more narrow as it went on, then turned on to a gravel road that wasn't much bigger than a pig trail, deep in to the woods.

I was getting a little nervous. T.A. took pictures with her phone, but I don't have them yet. You'll just have to wait.

We turned again and ended up in yard just feet from the highway we started out on.

Thank God. They weren't taking us back in the woods to slaughter us and feed our innards to a wood chipper. I won't even pretend that I didn't think "Oh shit, maybe this isn't such a good idea" at least eleventy billion times.

There in the clearing, we saw her. She's old. Her color is a little faded. Inside, she's dirty. Filthy. She's missing a chair and a table. Something's missing from the wall behind the stove.

But she cranked right up.

She just needs someone to clean her up and love her.

Not the actual RV, but the same style, model and stuff.

The floor had one bad spot, but other than that, and the dirt, everything's functional. All the curtains will need to be tossed. Everything will need to be scrubbed. The potty palace may require a stick of dynamite to get it clean. The missing chair and dinette make just enough room for my sewing machine. The carpets are gone and replaced with wooden floors.

She has potential.

I'm going to the bank in the morning. Keep your fingers crossed.

The dude with the tatts even offered to help me drive it across the mountain and get it set up. I think he was sweet on me.

So be proud of me and my socially dysfunctional self. I called craigslist strangers. I followed them into the woods. And I may have found my girl cave.

I'm at the tail end of day one of a four day weekend. I needed a break ya'll. Bossholio hasn't been in a good mood. He and Jasper aren't fond of the new manager. She's a girl. And she takes no shit. She's also probably my second cousin.. we think.

Sometimes it's hard to tell about family trees around here.

Anywho.. ya'll have a good one. I'm excited. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!


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Meat Dreams Are Made of Peas

Before I share this, I know there will be those among you who doubt my sincerity. Some of you will swear I'm making this up for shock value, but it's true.

The other night, I had ONE dream that contained all of the following elements:

     1. Running through a U.S. naval shipyard, fleeing authority. Giggling ensued.

     2. Being hit on for a late night booty call at a stoplight by a zombie. He wasn't even the Twilight kinda sparkly undead. He was of the icky variety, complete with dangly eyeball and slipping flesh. He was, however, sporting a very nice mullet.

      3. Waiting in an exam room to be seen by my doctor, while being naked and tucked snuggly in a big soft bed. I had to stay in the exam room because there was a violent psycho killer in the lobby who hadn't had his meds because of insurance issues and he was foaming at the mouth for something to rip apart.

      4. Meeting other members of an Elvis appreciation group, digging up his body and carrying his coffin through the streets of Memphis, in sort of a "stations of the cross" kinda thing, marking his last movements through the city before he died. This adventure included carrying the casket up and down an narrow, stuccoed stairway while being lectured by a little old lady on the wonders of Elvis.

That's the Readers Digest Condensed version. There was a lot more and it all sort of ran together like it was a normal series of events.

Reckon I'm stressed...MUCH?

I need a nap.

Later Taters.


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Daily Care Cuticle & Nail Oil

Of Outhouses, Head Sniffing and Grilled Cheese Sandwiches

Evil Eye Protection. Wooo-OOOO-oooo-Woooo! (That was my creepy music imitation)

Oh. My. Lord. I'm so glad it's Friday. This has been the crappiest week. Sleep has been hard to come by, giving me a serious case of the Bitchy McCrankypants with a side order of the PoorPitifulMe Boohoos.

I can not WAIT to sleep in the morning. You have NO idea.

When I DID sleep I had weird dreams about Ma and T.A.dying with T.A.'s spirit coming back to help me with Ma's arrangements.

There's a mood killer for ya right there.

The lack of restful sleep is caused by a combination of things. T.A. comes in sometime in the middle of the night, which doesn't wake me up, but it does wake Ayla, the mule headed hair beast. Ayla feels that she must alert me to T.A.'s arrival. Like it's her JOB. I guess it's the protective Great Pyrenees in her, warning the flock.. or something.

She's getting better. I can get her to shut the hell up calm down and go back to sleep, where as before she would try to take the bedroom door off it's hinges if I didn't let her out to go sniff T.A.'s head.

That's right. My dog is a 3 a.m. head sniffer. Fix THAT Cesar Milan.

Sometimes T.A. tells me she won't be home, but then she comes home and I hear her and think it's Ma attempting an escape, so I get up. Occasionally I hear the pop-crack of Sammy's arthritis (the Boston Baked Beagle) as he wanders up and down the hall and think it's the creaking of Ma's walker.

I try to ignore these things and go back to sleep, but the last time I did that I got up the next morning to find an assortment of grilled cheese and egg sandwiches in the fridge that Ma had been up cooking in the middle of the night. Apparently the man who was working on things in her bedroom was hungry, but he kept changing his mind about what he wanted.

I now remove the knobs off the stove before I go to bed each night.

All these issues will be solved if and when I find a camper to park in the yard. I've lowered my standards considerably. I've gone from 15K 5th wheels with super slides and restored Airstreams to $2200 1989 models.

I'm still not sure about the sewage deal. I might resort to peeing in the bushes. At this point, indoor plumbing isn't a deal breaker. As a matter of fact, there's still a hole in the ground on the embankment behind the house where Nanny's outhouse was.

Maybe I'll just get one of my own. (An actual outhouse, but not Nanny's actual outhouse.) 

Who am I kidding? I won't even use a gas station potty if it looks the least bit questionable. The rest of me might be gradually becoming full fledged hillbilly, but my tushie remains high fallootin' citified.

In other news.. Bossholio is off today, so I'm unsupervised and Lulu used a vacation day. I'm all alone in the back end of the office and apparently we've had a phone call from a disgruntled former employee. The few of us who are here are half afraid someone is going to show up with an Uzi any minute.

Wonderful.


Anywho... I'm ready for the weekend. I'll probably work on the yard some, make stuff, hopefully sell stuff and for the luvagawd SLEEP.

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

Later Taters!


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Evil Eyes, Hissy Fits and Sitting in the Dark

I was running late for work this morning. I rolled over and glanced at the clock, reading "7:48" and having a vague memory of turning the alarm off at 6:30, then closing my eyes for "just a minute."

That never works. I don't know why I thought this morning would be different.

I rushed around the house, tossing coffee grounds in the general direction of the coffee maker, tripping over animals and trying to practice patience with Ma's fun and games as I gave her her morning pill. I didn't think I was going to make it, but I did... just barely. I rushed in the door to be told that the power was being cut off so the power company could work on the lines. I pretty much broke my neck to get here so I could sit in the dark for two hours.

Yay.

Our new plant manager was having her first full-fledged hissy fit. Not only were we going to be without electricity for most of the morning, we're under a flood warning, meaning we could be evacuated from up here on the hill at any second AND there are more storms moving in.

I just sat back, laughed and told her, "Welcome to the Asylum."

I spent my long weekend grocery shopping and working on crafty stuff. I had a discussion with The Amazon before I went shopping to explain to her that I would not be cooking anymore after work. Ma just doesn't eat much anymore, I'm supposed to be on that four letter "D" word and T.A. keeps vampire hours. When I cook dinner and save my and Ma's leftovers for T.A., it means I'm faced with nearly a pot full of mac and cheese or mashed potatoes up until bedtime.

No good comes of this. That's all I'm sayin'.

I stocked up on frozen dinners (with taters or mac n' cheese for Ma, the lean variety for myself,) grass burgers, apples, bananas, tiny cups of peanut butter (portion controlled, cuz I'm a piggy,) stuff T.A. can fix when she gets home, sugar free ice cream (Blue Bunny Vanilla.. OMG) and several gallons of water.

I mean business ya'll.

The rest of the weekend was pretty much spent sitting on my bed in the Pocahontas position, cutting sheets, deconstructing T.A.'s old jeans, watching the Buffy marathon and crocheting Turkish Evil Eye Protection Hot Pads / Trivets.

Don't look at me like that. I'M SERIOUS. Now you can be the envy of all your friends, protecting your beans and wienies from evil whammies, your spaghetti from sticky spells and at the same time, your dining table from unsightly burns!!!!

Just wait 'til I get them listed. You will revel in their awesomeness.

Oh and by the way, thanks to all ya'll, I totally sold out of all the "Shabby Nail Repair Oil" I had bottled up! I've got new bottles coming in (they're sitting at the post office as we speak.. I mean type.. or read.. WHATever.) I also have ingredients to make some cuticle oil for every day use.

In the meantime, my legs are all locked up from sitting on the bed for so long. I really need more room to spread out and work. Later this week I'm going to go talk to the bank manager in town about a loan for that camper I'm hoping for. I got one of those pre-approval letters from a high dollar interest rate outfit, but I'm hoping I can get a better deal where my account is, or over in Big City where I have Jolene financed.

We shall see.

For now, I'm shuffling paper at The Asylum, counting the minutes 'til lunchtime. It's a four day week ya'll, we've got this one in the bag.

Hang in there, we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!

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