The Asylum, The Critters and The Rest

Lawd ya'll. Where to begin...

Let's start with The Asylum: 
Yes I'm still here. I scour the job sites every day, sometimes twice a day and apply where I can. I've sent resumes to other factories, waste disposal companies and parts distributors. None of those are my ideal job, but what the hell, anything has to be better than this. I spend my days trying to bust a nut under Bossholio's thumb while Lulu talks on the phone with her kinfolk and finds time for two leisurely wilderness strolls daily. The GM's secretary cracks open a trashy paperback each day at 3:30, takes off whenever the wind blows up her skirt and also seems to find the time to talk on to her mom, her dad, her brother and her sister's youngins.

All day long.

It's difficult for me not to develop a serious attitude problem.

Meanwhile, back at the trailer:
Ma is doing pretty good. She gets around with her walker, so I don't worry as much that she'll fall while she's there alone and as an added bonus, I can hear her coming down the hall. She's actually been almost easy to get along with most of the time.

The Amazon is still looking for a new job, but she's been getting extra hours down at the Pump N' Go, so that helps.

The cat, known mostly as just "Kitty" has gotten so fat, she's developed a "butt belly." She demands to be fed several times a day and if you refuse, she attacks someone.. usually The Amazon. It's not really appropriate to laugh when it happens, but then, propriety has never been a big concern of mine. I gotta get my entertainment where I can.

Ayla outgrew her bed, a leftover couch cushion, but when I looked at extra large dog beds, the price was a little ridunkulous. I read on the internet, because everything on the internet is true somewhere that used crib mattresses made ideal dog beds for large breeds, so I set out to find one. I ended up spending a small fortune in gas trying to locate a $10 used crib mattress, so I eventually just bought a new one at Wally World. $36 was way cheaper than what they wanted for really big dog beds and Ayla can stretch out to air her bits if she feels compelled. It takes up most of my bedroom floor, but I prop it up against the wall during the day, so it's not a big deal.

Sammy has settled into sweet old man mode, sleeping most of the time and wanting a warm body to scootch his butt up to, which we oblige. Yoda is still hyper and kinda grumpy, although he's chilled out a little since his last visit to the vet, where he had a couple of bad teeth removed.

The dog gets better dental care than I do.

And me?
Aside from work and trying to find new work, I play around with my Etsy shop, cook, clean and sleep. Lately, it's mostly sleep. I've been in the throws of an "episode," with achy muscles and swollen joints, probably brought on by my latest bout with the crud. I go back to Dr. Sexypants, the rheumatologist, in a couple of weeks, where I'm sure we'll discuss the FDA decision to take colchicine off the market. Apparently it's never been through the approval process. There will be an alternative available, a brand name made by a big pharmaceutical company that will charge substantially more than the $4 for a 30 day supply I pay now.

I'm sorry.. but does it seem to anyone else that our "progress" in healthcare is moving backwards? The decision to remove the generic drug from the market so that we can pay more for THE SAME THING with a different name seems sort of, I dunno, STUPID.

But what do I know...

Anywho...

If you've looked at my shop and wondered if I'm ever going to put anything else in it, rest assured, I've got supplies coming in from all over. Feathers from California, sari fabric from India and some super soft yarn from Wisconsin. I also picked up some unbleached muslin at a funky little shop in Big City when I went to Dr. Opie for my crud cure. I'll let ya'll try to figure out what it's all for.

As for now, I gotta keep Bossholio happy, so I'll probably work through lunch and bust a hump for the rest of the day. Thank goodness it's Friday ya'll.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!


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Beware: It Can't Be Unseen

I'll just give ya'll a second to let that image .. um... gestate.

I found this "Childbirth Education Doll" on Etsy. I swear on Mamaw's milking stool that I was searching crochet patterns. 

I'll never be the same. It's the nipples. I feel so... inadequate. 

Also? Maybe they should make a "Personal Grooming Education Doll" because Torpedo Tattas here is a little shaggy in the scooby doo.

I'm going to go find the mind bleach now. Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters.

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Churnin' Snot and Shovelin' Snow

Let's jump right in and get caught up, shall we?

The snow is finally melting after two decent sized storms graced Frog Pond Holler this winter. I didn't mind it too much, the power never went out and Jolene's 4X4 got me everywhere I needed to go. I am becoming such a friggin mountain woman, popping it into four wheel drive and taking off through the mud, snow and muck without giving it a second thought.

Ma, for the most part, is doing pretty good. Her physical health is improving and she's started fixing her own breakfast, instead of depending on one of us to get it for her. I rigged up an old purse of mine on the side of her walker so that she can carry stuff around with her, making it easier for her to haul bottled water or packs of crackers around. She's stopped obsessing about her bed.. for now. She has mentioned that she would have been happier with a full sized bed instead of the twin she got, but I think we convinced her she wouldn't have room with her walker and stuff.

Don't get me wrong. She still gets on my last nerve, but it's better. At least she isn't making comments about wishing she'd suffocated me as an infant like she did when she was in the nut hut.

You can't take enough medication to undo what that chit does to your head. Seriously.

The Amazon is still working at the Pump N' Go and I'm still at The Asylum. We're both diligently searching for new jobs, although I'm still a little shell shocked after my last job interview. I'm almost afraid someone will actually call me.

I've been battling the black plague of death, decay and pestilence a cold since the day after Christmas. I finally gave in and went to the doctor last week. My regular doc wasn't in, so I had to see a 12 year old who looked like Opie Taylor.

He gave me antibiotics at least. I think I may live.

Oh yeah.. and my blood pressure was 160/98. No lie. That's with THREE blood pressure pills A DAY. I'm hoping it was just because I was out of batshitcrazy pills and hadn't slept for two days. No worries now though, I'm fully medicated and back to normal.

I think. I should probably get it checked.

I knew something was up when I woke up Thursday morning and felt like I was vibrating.

Anywho...

I'd better get back to work Bossholio is.. well.. he's Bossholio. Who knows what kind of mood he's in, he's always such a miserable bastard.

Ya'll have a good week! We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!


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Sucky Vampires

The snow is dumping by bucket loads like that old storyline on General Hospital when the Cassadines changed the weather and made an arctic winter in Port Charles falling peacefully on Frog Pond Holler this Monday morning, turning the entire town into a redneck amusement park with Bubbahubbies in four wheel drives sliding off the road while letting loose with a primal rebel yell, just before their truck plows to a stop in front of the beer store winter wonderland full of sparkling ice and beauty.

I was pretty much stuck in the house all weekend, but we had free Showtime and even though the Directv is still screwed (after three visits from their "technicians" to "fix" it) I still managed to see both Twilight and New Moon... finally.

Don't judge me. It's not like there's a movie theater here in Podunk.

I tried to like it. I did. I wanted to get into it, be excited like everyone else in the civilized world, but I just couldn't. Why? Well...

1. Bella gets points for driving a cool old truck, but then.. she was never driving it. Apparently she's tough enough to go gallivanting around in the middle of the night with vampires and werewolves, even hopping a plane and bravely facing a whole damn room full of the undead all the way over in Italy, but she's too damn delicate to drive her own truck? Seriously? Jolene weeped a little when she heard.
2. Dear Dad the Cop Guy: Your daughter is lying in bed screaming like she needs an exorcism. Do you think maybe you should take her to the damn doctor? Perhaps borrow a couple of Valium from someone? Good Gawd. She clearly needs to be hospitalized. 
3. When your sorta boyfriend climbs a tree and ends up in your bedroom in the middle of the night, shirtless and cut like a GQ model, when he was a frumpy kid with really bad extensions a few days earlier, then leaps from the second story window, after reminding you that his people are descended from wolves, can you really act surprised when he morphs into a big puppy? No one is that stupid. Especially someone who's last boyfriend was a vampire.. you'd think she'd be a little more open to weird men.
4. What the feckin' hell is up with the hair and makeup in these two flicks? Edward? In the first one, there are scenes where his face is two shades lighter than his neck. And I dunno what to even say about his hair. 

Maybe it's my hillbilly genes or possibly my age, but by the end of the first movie I wanted slap whiney assed little Bella around a little. Drama queen much? If she were my kid, I'd take that truck away from her, she obviously doesn't have enough sense to even drive. Stumbling around with that sullen, "whoa is me" look on her face, hanging with the wrong crowd (they're undead, can't get much more "wrong crowd" than that) and obviously suicidal, I'd have her committed.

I guess I'm getting old. I prefer my vampire movies with teeth and blood and blatant sexual overtones, like "Interview with a Vampire" and "Bram Stoker's Dracula."

Pardon the pun but, Twilight sucked.

Heh.

Give me Buffy and Angel over Edward any day. Or Blade. Or Underworld.


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Funny How Things Change.. Even Dreams

When I was in elementary and junior high, I remember thinking that California sounded like the most exotic place in the world. Surfers, movie stars, beaches, mountains... I was going to be a famous writer and live among the stars. I even penned some pretty awesome stories during those years, giving my teachers the chance to peer into the future when they'd be begging me for a signed copy of my first best seller. I had it all planned out, my beach house on Malibu, my blonde haired, blue eyed surfer dude boyfriend.. my life would be grand.

As I got older and my tastes changed, I fancied the idea of being a serious journalist rather than simply a spinner of tales. I dreamed of living in a New York loft, like the chick in Flashdance and working for The New York Times or some hi-fallootin' magazine, getting the facts and winning Pulitzers for my awesometastic talent for sniffing out the story. I'd dine in fine restaurants, wear designer clothes, my life story would inspire HBO to do a long running series about my life...

It would be FABULOUS!!!

But years went by, the Amazon came along and other miscellaneous shit happened, as shit tends to do in the real world and I adjusted my dreams to a more reasonable level. My rural, podunk life made me crave the coast, only now I dreamed of Roanoke Island, off the coast of N.C. where I'd live in a small Victorian house just over a dune from the ocean at the end of a forgotten road, in solitude, just me and waves, where I could write and live in solitude, seeking peace and serenity and... I dunno.. some other kinda New Age bullshit...

But now? Now as I face each day, caring for Ma and trying to patiently accommodate her never ending lifelong goal of having a new bed to sleep in every three months, listening to her five calls to the hospital bed place every day as she gives them new instructions on when to pick her bed up because she insists it's broken, her endless calls to everyone in the family as she tries to borrow a bed and her insistence that I leap to do her bidding at any time of the day or night as she sees fit....

As she tells me that I can never leave or sell the trailer because her name is on the title and as she reminds me often that I am stuck, my ass over a figurative barrel for the rest of eternity, once again I have adjusted my hopes and dreams.

Now? Now I spend my days scouring the internet for deals on a used camper that I can stick in the yard and live in...

I am dead serious. 

Somehow I'm going to get myself out of debt enough that I can move to the yard. I know it doesn't look like much on the outside, but inside? They're nicer than my trailer.

Happy New Year ya'll. It's gotta be better... right?

Later Taters.

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