If Beyonce Names Her Kid Jasmine...

I've been in the throws of my yearly date with THE BLACK PLAGUE OF DEATH  the crud, so I'm feeling a little stabbity and undermedicated.

I can not be held responsible for the inaccuracy of facts or jumbled ramblings that may follow. Ye hath been forewarned-eth.

I missed the VMAs last night. Well, I suppose "missed" isn't the right word. I felt it would be more intellectually stimulating to lie in bed with tissue shoved up my left nostril while staring blankly at the latest LMN movie of the week, riding the wave of Nyquil induced euphoria while toking on a sippy bottle full of Diet Dr. Pepper and my arm shoved elbow deep in box of  reduced-fat Cheezits.

This morning, upon arrival at The Asylum and wasting the first hour checking all the celebrity gossip stories beginning my day, I stumbled across news that Beyonce was preggers. Which is fine, I guess, not that anyone asked my permission or anything. But then, then I read that she said "I want you to feel the love that is growing in side me."

Um. Say what? Is it just me or doesn't that sound just a tad bit creepy? My very first thought when I heard this, was of the character Jasmine from Angel, the series. You remember her, right? She was all "feel the love" but then she turned out to be a creepy hell critter who was really fooling everyone in to following her, when secretly she was devouring their flesh up in her tricked out art deco 1920's style hotel room, but then, what can you expect from someone who is born from the illicit love affair between a barely teenaged uber being born of two vampires, one with a soul and one who sorta coulda mighta had a soul but I'm a little foggy on that detail, but nonetheless was born and aged like 17 years in one while being held captive by some creepy guy in another dimension before being kidnapped/rescued by his REAL dad the smexy vampire Angel and who then had an affair with his smexy dad's assistant who wasn't REALLY her because she had been taken over by a demon herself BEFORE bumping uglies with the teenaged UBER being who's supposed to be like JESUS or something but then the demon/assistant/not really his assistant gives birth to JASMINE which sounds alot LIKE Jesus but not and who ages SUPER FAST and kinda looks like Beyonce who is now SUDDENLY preggers with Jay-Z's spawn.

Jay-Z.. Jasmine.. JESUS.

I rest my case.


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Social Behavior and I'd Like to Kick the FDA in the Shins

Tattered Mare's Shabby Nail Repair Oil

Lord ya'll. I've been so busy with mixing magic potions, folding boxes and ... you won't believe this... BEING SOCIAL.. that I don't even know where to begin. 

I met up with one of my favorite bloggers Thursday night. Miss Tiff of No Accent Yet ventured into the holler with hubby and Things 1 and 2. We met at the diner for dindin and grand conversation ensued. It's been so long since I had a chance to talk to someone from civilization, I was positively giddy. Most of the face to face social interaction I get these days consists of me telling Ma to put some pants on. 

Hateful McGrumpybritches was our waitress. If she ever cracked a smile, I suspect it would come as such a shock to her system that she'd promptly wet herself. When we first moved to the holler, umpteenzillion years ago, we rented a house from McGrumpybritches' mom. Her mom was the sweetest little old thing and took great joy in letting The little Amazon follow her down to the chicken house to "pick eggs." When her daughter would come around and glare at us from across the pasture, with a look that made your blood run cold,  all she could say was, "she's kinda quar." 

That's hilltalk for odd, strange or unusual. It was also an understatement.

Usually, the Grab N' Go (and go and go) makes me kinda antsy. It's rare that I ever go inside and eat. But I wasn't the least bit nervous meeting Miss Tiff and her clan and I was perfectly at ease on the back porch, chatting away, watching the storm blow in. It wasn't until we got up to leave that I had to excuse myself and wait outside. The diner's owner's daughter pulled around back and eyed one of the Things. I reckon he was too close to one of the blinds. He may have touched it, I'm not sure, but Miss "My Mom Owns the Diner and My Poot Smells Like Magnolias" LEPT from her truck like friggen BO DUKE and showed her hind end. 

Okay not literally showed it. It's a southern thang.. meaning she got her bloomers in a wad and set to carrying on and drawing attention to herself. 

There are some really warm, welcoming, beautiful people in Frog Pond Holler, but we also have our share of butt monkeys. 

After dinner, I gave the Tiff Clan the grand tour of the holler, then set out to show them some beautiful scenery at a campground that turned out to be way farther back in the woods on a gravel road than I remembered. 

The Tiff and her clan are awesome. I can't wait to see them again someday.

Over the weekend I bottled up my super awesometastic nail repair oil and got it listed in my shop. I've already sold two bottles!! You can get your own here. Yes, I realize I totally sound like a snaggle-toothed old Gypsy woman selling snake oil off the back of her wagon. 

I also spent a big chunk of my weekend trying to fold origami gift boxes to the right size to fit the oil bottles. That was a few hours of my life I'll never get back. I found a template for pillow boxes instead. I suppose I must be more of a "taper" than a "folder." 

I've got several pairs of earrings started that I wanted to finish, but I've been without colchicine now for like three weeks. My hands are going all lobster claw and my right hip protests everytime I try to move in my sleep. I'm getting a little irritated. 

I finally found a phone number for the manufacturer early last week. I called and was told they didn't have all my paperwork, but that they could take the information down over the phone. Why in the hell they didn't CALL me or EMAIL me to tell me this, I don't know, but I have copies of everything I sent them and according to my records, I sent them all the forms. Apparently someone either misplaced them or used them to line their hamster cage or somechit. But anywho.. I gave her the information and she assured me that I should receive my medication in 7-10 days. She said it would be mailed directly to me, not the doctor's office and that I'd receive a call when it was mailed. 

I have not received any phone calls. It has been 7 days. 

SMOOTH MOVE FDA. WAY TO GO. 

Here at the asylum, our new plant manager seems to be of the giggly, "oh silly me, I'm just a girl" type. And kinda ditzy. 

I think I'll just keep my distance. 

Back at the trailer, The Amazon's Blazer is gone to crap again. I hope she's able to get it fixed today. My flaming hip isn't going to be too eager to hump it all the way home. 

But anyways, that's the latest in the holler. I hope all ya'll have a good week. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!


Update: My colchicine came in the mail today. Hoo-rah! Over $500 worth of drugs.. free. Yay. 

Update 2: I Have no idea wtf happened to my font. 

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Hoarder's Paradise

Yoda the Chihuahuaranian was having an emotional breakdown this morning. The battery was low in the smoke alarm, causing it to beep. Apparently T.A.'s solution was to throw the smoke alarm out on the porch, but Yoda could still hear it which caused him great distress and forced him to do his Lassie imitation at the butt crack of dawn, running from bedroom to bedroom, whining, dancing and barking.

If I ever fall down a well, Yoda will be the man with the plan. In the meantime, he's a royal pain in the ass.

I went on an adventure Saturday morning. My goal was to find a source of uber cheap, second hand bed sheets to use to make crocheted rag rugs. While trying to find a new thrift store on the west side of town over in Big City, I somehow ended up at the bead store way over on the other end. I figured it was a sign from The Universe and ended up spending $20 bucks on heart shaped beads, bone carved crosses and evil eye protection thingies.

I love the bead store. It is smothered in awesome sauce.

After a billion wrong turns, some four letter words and a crap load of wasted gas, I finally found the thrift store. They didn't have squattola, but the girl running the place was full of information. She suggested I go the Goodwill, but I explained that I'd tried there before. The Big City Goodwill charges way too much for stuff.
"Nooooo, you're doing it wrong. You have to go to the back, there are bins full of fabric!"

Do what?

So I went to the Goodwill, drove around back, found a separate entrance I never knew existed and found this:

HOLY RAG PICKIN' BATMAN!!!!

It's all by the pound. I bought 14 pounds of sheets and other large pieces of fabric for about $15. I've got enough rug making stuff to last through the winter. I also grabbed a few old nighties and hankies with plans to steal the lace off of them for assorted projects.

Oh yeah. And a book. I paid $2 for a children's book form 1920. I love old books with awesome old illustrations.

The Amazon didn't seem impressed with my haul. She eyed my stack of old sheets suspiciously. I think she's afraid I'm going to start hoarding.

Dang. A girl makes one big haul from the rag pickin' bins at the Goodwill and people get all judgy.

Last night I finished up a rug that I'd made from some sheets I already had. I hope to get it listed tonight. If I get enough made up, I might take them to town one Saturday morning and see if I can sell some to the tourists. There's sort of a tailgate market down by the post office on weekends with local crafts, canned yummies and fresh produce.

After I got the new rug blocked, I worked on some earrings. I got one pair done and although they just about did me in, I started another.

I'm tired today ya'll. It was a busy weekend.. and kinda depressing. I'm sort of glad it's over.

Today starts a new week Let's see if the wind blows any good changes our way.

Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

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Bears Don't Poop in the Woods... In Case Anyone Asks You

It's been a little slow at The Asylum this morning, so I've been using my wee bit of spare time to educate myself on the wonders of waste management, RV style.

I now know more about the dirty details of camper pooping than I ever wanted to know.

Stop looking at me like that. I never promised you a rose garden.

Since we're on the subject, there's some mystery poo on the sidewalk in front of the house. It's definitely wild, with lots of seeds and twiggy looking stuff, but it's big and kinda round.. like bear turds. Not like deer poop, which looks more like a giant rabbit visited in the night. I noticed a small pile on the sidewalk about a week ago, it was further up the road, just past the edge of our yard, but I didn't take the time to poke it and roll it around for identification.

This? Is RIGHT in front of our house.

Granted, I kinda let the grass get out of control and our yard was starting to look like a wildlife preserve, maybe he (or she) thought he was still in the woods. I'm sure he could find some tasty treats in what was the garden, over on the end of the yard where the grass is so tall I'm afraid to walk in it.

I'm working on it, okay? I'm old and fat and it's been like.. eleventyhundred degrees. Geeze.

Anywho...

I'm looking forward to the weekend. I want to run to Big City in the morning to check out a new thrift store. I need to stock up on used bed sheets for making rag rugs (don't worry, I'll wash hell out of 'em first.) I hope to add them to my Etsy shop. I'm also working on some change purses with the left over sari fabric (but I need zippers) and next week, I hope to be adding my miracle fingernail repair serum!

(I totally sound like an infomercial)

My nails were trashed after all the acrylics. Since I've gone natural, they split, peel and break at nothing. I bought all kinds of stuff from the drug store, nothing worked. I wish I could say I'd never get acrylics again, but I do kinda miss my pornstarrific french manicures.

*sniffle*

But anyway, I did some research, came up with a strengthening formula all my own, tried it and BOOYA! No more splitting, peeling, cracking. As soon as the bottles arrive in the mail from the fly-by-night website where I got a sketchy deal on some .5oz bottles to sell it in, I'll be listing my new, amazing.. stuff.. in my shop. I have NO idea what to call it. I'm open to suggestions.

Something mystical, Gypsy, catchy..

Ya'll have a booty kickin', frog lickin' weekend. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

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Ernest The Drunken Snake Slayer

I was hanging bloomers out on the front porch clothesline Saturday, in true hillbilly style, when I heard an excited voice calling from the other side of the pine tree at the edge of the yard. All I heard was "black snake!" and "a big'un!!"

I started doing the pee-pee dance, because that's what I do when someone says snake. I'm not sure why, other than maybe in my head I think quick moving toesies make for a more difficult target.

I tried to peek around the towels and sheets to see who was yelling. I needed to see just how "big'un" the slithery visitor was.. like it mattered one way or the other. I've been known to hyperventilate at the sight of a garter snake. Right about then, a face appeared from behind the pine tree. I saw a toothless grin and a ballcap.. a face that can only be described as this guy's twin, less teeth, plus a mullet:

No chit. Ernest goes The Holler.

There was no snake. Thank gawd. Apparently Ernest II was the crackhead redneck who ran up on our porch and grabbed our shovel a few weeks back and used it to kill a black snake. He was just making sure I knew about it. The smell of alcohol coming off him would smother a mule.. and he was about five feet away from me. Of course, he had to stand there and talk about snakes for 10 minutes, causing me to damn near break out in hives.

I love my neighbors.

In other news...

The new plant manager started last week. She's worked at two of our other plants during different times in her career and everyone Lulu and I know from those locations has made a point to call us to both warn us to watch our backs and to revel in the glory that she's out of their lives.

This isn't going to end well.

I believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt, rumors can be a destructive thing, but when someone who has NEVER spoken ill of anyone to you before calls and tells you to keep your distance, it probably pays to take note.

No one has had anything positive to say about her. No one.

I give it about a month before all hell breaks loose.

Meanwhile, back at the trailer...

Those of you know that I share my humble abode with both my daughter (who is grown, but I had her when I was like.. 8.. okay?) and my mother (who is slowly driving me insane in return for all the evil chit I did when I was 13.) Our three bedroom trailer has a master bedroom with a full bathroom, ginormous closet, etc. Ma's room. At the other end, The Amazon and I share a small bathroom and because of pecking order, she has the tiny, walk-in closet sized bedroom and I have the only slightly larger one.

Clearly we need more room.

When I thought Ma was going to the home, I figured I'd eventually move into her room and things would work out, but now that it appears that she's going to stay here and slowly drag me down into her spiraling whirlpool of nutcase, we have to do something. The Amazon's stuff is basically spilling out into the hallway.

I really do need to get a camper to use as an extra bedroom. I can't afford an Airstream, as much as I'd love to, but I should be able to find something with enough room for just me and my crafty bits for under $5000. I'm going to wave down the Leprechaun the next time I see him (the little hairy feller who fixed our sewage line) and see how much it would cost to add a sewer tap down on the other end of the yard. The garden will have to be relocated, but it's too big for me to manage anyway. I figure, if I do all this then something happens and I move back into the trailer, I can always rent the camper out to hikers on weekends for $50 a night.

So there ya go. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Sound like a plan?

I have no idea how I'll pay for said camper or how I can wing yet another payment, but what the hell. I'll figure something out.

I always do.

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

Later Taters!!

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Courthouse Hippies, Refurbished Airstreams and Rice Crispies

Created with flickr slideshow.

I am happy to report that I took 4 hours vacation on Monday and went to the courthouse to see about getting my tickets reduced, found that not only is the D.A. a little old hippy woman who looks kinda like Kathy Bates, but she had just gotten back from the festival across the river, celebrating Jerry Garcia's birthday and as a result (I suspect) all my fines were forgiven. 

Seriously. There was a "Jerry Garcia's Birthday" festival. 

I tried to get there at one, hoping everyone would be back from lunch, but that's what time they GO to lunch, so I had to kill time walking around town in the blistering heat for an hour. It was only like a bizillion and a half degrees with nine hundred and eighty nine percent humidity. 

Under bewb sweat was the least of my personal hygiene concerns.

But anywho.. that was my Monday.

Also, remember the clusterfuck that was my colchicine prescription? Dr. Sexypants filled out all the paperwork and returned it to me right away and I stuck it all in the mail with hopes that I can get it free from the manufacturer. They said it would take about two weeks for my drugs to arrive at Dr. Sexypants office. In the meantime, there was a horrific FIRE at Dr. Sexypants' office AND IT'S NOT THERE ANYMORE.

I swear.

I'm not making light of the fact that there was a serious fire, a fireman was killed in the blaze and several were injured. It's a horrible, horrible thing that happened and ya know, the noggin doc DID say I needed to stop making everything about me...

BUT SERIOUSLY????

Yesterday I was finally able to get in touch with Dr. Sexypants' nurse, who had to call me back because in all the confusion, she wasn't even sure where the mail was going. After a couple of conversations, we finally determined that my little package of goodies hadn't been received yet and she'd call me when it was.

I've been out of the little magic pills since about last Friday. I'm really starting to feel it. I've got Rice Krispy joints, especially in my shoulders (snap, crackle, pop) and the funky fevers have started.

Remember the psychiatric appointment for Ma that I was so excited about? They called from that office on Tuesday to say they'd had a cancellation for Wednesday. I jumped all over that chance. Of course, I had to ask Bossholio if I could leave at noon for the second time in a week, this after having to ask him for a ride home twice last week while The Amazon's Blazer was broken AND if I could leave early on Friday, also because of the Blazer.

I don't like to ask Bossholio for favors. But I did. For Ma. I printed out all the "new patient" forms Tuesday night and filled them out, got the directions, planned how I was going to get Ma into my truck... I was ready.

I rushed home at noon on Wednesday and asked her if she was ready to get in the shower.

"I don't feel like going."

*blink*

I told her she had to go. She got up with her walker and took two steps, feigning weakness before falling back gracefully onto her bed.

"You'll just have to call them and reschedule."

In my head that translated to, "You'll just have to ask Bossholio for ANOTHER favor."

I went into "oh fuck this" mode. I was so angry I was shaking. I told her that the next time she wandered out in the road in the middle of the night, she'd better hope some one happened by and took pity on her, because I wasn't chasing her trifling ass at all hours anymore. I had too much to do with a full time job, cleaning up after every damn body, making sure everyone got where they needed to be, cooking and then.. when I had FREE time, working on my shop...BECAUSE I LIKE IT. I needed my sleep, I didn't get to lay in the bed all damn day.

I know, I'm a horrible person. I'm sure there are times when she's off her noodle, but I also know that there are many times that she knows EXACTLY what she's doing and I'm tired of trying to figure out what the hell is going on at any given moment.

I want this so bad I can taste it:

The day I found it on Craigslist for $8000, I got one of those pre-approved credit thingies from a local loan company for $7500. If that's not a sign, I dunno what is. It's got a full (although tiny) bathroom, a nice sized bed and full hookups.

And it's so me.

The orange would have to go though.

Anywho.. that's the latest and greatest news from the Land O' Mahala. How are ya'll?

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!