Mean People Suck. Ice Cream Does Not.

So today at The Asylum, the GM made some insensitive remarks that pushed me over the emotional edge and made me do the ugly girl cry.

People are assholes.

His exact comments aren't really important, I don't want to open up a big assed Sam's Club sized can o' worms, but let's just say.. he's familiar with my family situation, my financial embarrassments and living arrangements and while it's okay for ME to joke around about it, it is NOT okay for his skanky old man ass to make me the topic of his stupid jokes. Especially when I recently discovered that I'd been the joke of the day during the manager's meeting over at the other plant just a couple of weeks ago.

I'll be honest. Christmas is hard, but this year, I handled it surprisingly well. I was proud of myself. Then today, after several hours of Bossholio acting like a troll that had just slithered out from under his bridge, I wasn't really in the mood for the GM's mouth.

I bawled all the way home. Then? I go inside to tell Ma that I have to run to the store (Lola was out of bedding) and she tells me to call my Trashy Big Boobed Cousin with the Lazy Eye to see if her youngin had made it home because she'd seen her up on the mountain and she needed a ride.

I'm pretty certain Ma hadn't been out of the house, much less up on the mountain.. driving.

I told her I'd be back later. I got back out to the truck, dug around in my bag and found my "omg I'm losing my shit" pills and swallowed one. By the time I got to the next town, I'd gone from ugly girl cry to blaring AC/DC and singing at the top of my lungs. I stopped at the By Pass Dollar store, bought myself some clearance rack fuzzy leopard print pj bottoms, stopped to give a lady a jump in the grocery store lot, got some pizza and a salad for dinner and came home.

After I got Ma and the dogs fed, I loaded the dishwasher, came back to the girl cave, put on my fuzzy pj bottoms and pigged out on sugar free chocolate ice cream.

My head hurts. I've got shit I need to be doing, but I'm not doing it. Not tonight.

Sometimes people suck.

Later Taters.


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It's a Rice Crispies Kinda Day

It's kinda gray and dreary in the holler today, but I'm on day 2 of my mini Christmas vacation from The Asylum, so it's all unicorns and dandelions in my little world.

Don't hate me because I'm delusional.

I made a rag pickin' run to Big City yesterday to stock up on books. I forced invited The Amazon to go with me. She was both impressed and disturbed. I came away with a new book stash for my Etsy shop, ranging from the late 1800's to the 1970's:

I love the finding, the selling and the shipping. I dread the photographing, describing and listing. It's just time consuming. But anywho... I'm excited.

I also picked up a cute little spice rack for housing my nail oil supplies, three ginormous spools of decorative thread, a couple of pillows T.A. eyed and this:

I don't know what it's original purpose was, but I've been using a flimsy, disposable, aluminum lasagna pan with holes poked in it with a crochet hook to sift bunny poop to separate it from hay and bedding, resulting in the occasional spillage of ickiness and excessive sweeping of the girl cave. Imagine my GLEE when I found this.. THING.. with perfect BUNNY POOP SIZED HOLES!!!!

Merry Christmas to me.

Why am I sifting rabbit poop you ask? Haven't you heard that I'm selling bunny baked plant fertilizer on the innerwebs? They don't call me the sales ninja for nuthin' ya know.

I rearranged things a little around the cave this morning, wrapped up the last of the pressies and tried in vain to roll T.A. out of bed. I'm not planning to do much else today, yesterday's shopping trip kinda kicked my ass. I was doing the snap*crackle*pop when I got home last night. I'm thinking about using up some of my sizable fabric stash to make some kinda thingie to put around the bottom of Lola's cage, seeing how hay isn't just for eating, sleeping on and peeing in. Apparently it's also for tossing around with wild abandon in an expression of excessive bunny joy and happiness.

Ya'll have a Merry, Happy, Holiday and Everyday.

We'll talk again soon!

Later Taters!

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Shameless Christmas Greetings

Okay, I know I've gotten a little link happy with the YouTube videos lately, but I saw this on the bewb tube last night and had to share it. Consider it my Christmas card to all ya'll.



I love Shameless. It makes me feel just a little less trailer trashy.

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Zombies and Russians and Crocs.. Oh My!

Last night, The Amazon took me out to Big City for special birthday treat. We got all dolled up like city folks and had a grand old time seeing this:



And although T.A. was rocking some hooker style zombie pumps and I was hiding my Crocs under my long Stevie Nicks-esque skirt, I still felt kinda high fallootin'.

Yes, these are the actual shoes. My child, she ain't right.

Today I am tired and fighting an involuntary nap at my desk.

45 minutes to go.

Fingers crossed.

Later Taters!


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Do Ravens Have Spittle? And Other Burning Questions

The sun is shining bright down on Frog Pond Holler today. The air is crisp and smells of wood fires.. and the occasional whiff of Trail Burgers from the diner.

They make these grass burgers on whole grain (with flax seed! Shoot me now,) hard to choke down.

I got off track with all things food related sometime around Thanksgiving. There were donuts by the coffee pot at The Asylum, mystery cookies in a plain brown wrapper delivered by UPS, covered with teeny tiny chocolate chips and a Mrs. Smith's cream of coconut pie that I pecked at for days. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who ate any of it after Turkey Day.

I don't know how high my blood sugar got, I was conveniently out of strips, but it's a good bet that it wasn't healthy.

Don't worry, I'm back on the grass burgers, steel cut oats and apples dipped in peanut butter. Factor in that I pretty much live in an RV without running water or.. ya know.. facilities.. and I'm only one step away from dancing around a bonfire, naked, under a full moon with my lover, Wheatgerm Lovemonkey and making shampoo from bunny poop and raven spittle.

Do ravens have spittle?

Anywho....

Lola the bunny is growing like crazy. I slept on the couch in front of the heater last night, so I left her crate open. When I woke up this morning, she was sprawled out in the floor on a blanket I'd lost sometime during the night, chilling out right beside me.

I'd like to think it's cuz she loves me, but I'm pretty sure it had more to do with the fact that it was 23 degrees last night and she was trying to hog the heat. Speaking of the temperature, let me just add that the 4a.m. nature call has a whole new meaning when you have to get up and hoof it across the frozen mutha freakin' tundra.. in the DARK, a process I wouldn't have to endure if Cousin H weren't such a booty hole.

I haven't heard from him at all, by the way. He can still bite me.

Back at The Asylum, it's been crazy busy. The new plant manager's true colors have slowly shown themselves. Everyone is "darlin'" and "hunneee." She says "Thank yewwwwwwwwwww" and when I leave for the evening she's all "Later guuuuuurl." She also likes to play two halves against the middle, goes behind closed doors with the pervert general manager for an hour every day when he comes in (that never happened when the plant manager was male) and goes on and on about food and calories and being fat (a mild breeze would prolly carry her away.) To sum it up, everything that comes out of her mouth is about three fourths full of caca.

Just my opinion.

I made a huge haul at the rag pickin' last weekend. I found two antique books I've listed on Etsy, plus a PILE of sheets for rugs AND some thermal back drapes for the girl cave bedroom. Not a bad haul. I've been looking for things I can list under the "vintage" category on Etsy to kinda offset the amount of time I put in to the rugs. It's sort of sad that I'm able to find leather bound books in near perfect condition, from 1919, just tossed in the bottom of a giant bin along side other assorted unwanted things.

Oh my damn. I just got an email. Seriously. JUST NOW. I sold one of the books. I may be on to something!

 For now, I guess I'd better go do a small load of laundry.. or my options for office attire tomorrow will be "none" or "stinky."

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

Later Taters!

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And I Still Know Every Word

Back in 1974, this song was performed atop the picnic tables on the playground at Arrowood Academy in Norfolk, Virginia by Laura Allen, Mary Lamm, Joe Don Strickland, Michael Jackson (not THAT one,) myself and Lord only knows who else. 


Welcome to my earworm.
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