Hikers, Old Spice and Cheating Bubbahubbies

The big Trail worshiper's gathering was this weekend in Frog Pond Holler. I decided I'd check it out, I needed to take my books back to the library anyway and I hoped to snag a photo opportunity or two.

In years past, town has been wall to wall hikers, their ripe funk hanging in the air like an expired pole cat.

I'm not being mean. They stink. They know they stink. They've been in the woods, hiking from somewhere between here and Main. I'm not judging. You can build up some major coochie and/or pit funk when you stay in the woods that long.

This year, there didn't seem to be as many. The smell of hiker funk was replaced by Old Spice and patchouli, from mostly local folks of the hippie and hillbilly varieties. The VFD was selling BBQ and cotton candy, a local farm had seedlings for sale, there was a climbing wall and a jumpy thing.

Normally I couldn't care less, but I was kinda disappointed by the lack of dread-locked and kilted men folk, forming a steady stream by the kitchen window, dragging their left foot behind them as they soldier on, trying to make it the last 100 feet into town.

It's especially entertaining when the wind's blowing just right. The look they get on their faces when they catch a whiff of burger grease from the Grab N' Go (and go and go,) after eating dandelions and granola for gawd knows how long, is priceless.

I had planned to park at the library, but they blocked some of the roads, in a manner that made no sense WHAT-soever. We don't have like.. a traffic department in Frog Pond Holler. I'm pretty sure it was just Crazy Larry putting road signs up willy-nilly. He may or may not have been sober at the time.

I left Jolene behind the post office and did the fat-girl-waddle over to the library. I ran in to Lacey on the way. She and I worked at The Asylum together, way back when. I hadn't seen her since Uncle G's funeral. She hugged my neck and instantly started spewing forth with pent up emotions. She'd caught her bubbahubby cheating, she'd moved out, she felt like her world was exploding apart, she didn't know what she was going to do....

I gave her my number and told her to call me anytime she wanted to talk.  She wasn't making a whole lot of sense and it sounded like she could use a shoulder.

While I was talking to Lacey, The Baby Engineer strolled up and gave me a big hug. He's happy with the new sales manager up at The Asylum. He said he doesn't know much, but at least he's not an a-hole.

Not being an a-hole can go a long way when you've worked for Gorilla Head.

After more socializing in one morning than I've done in two months, I finally made it to the library. The Amazon works there on Saturday mornings, but will she take my books back for me? No.

I dropped my books on the desk (one of which was The Vegetable Gardener's Container Bible: How to Grow a Bounty of Food in Pots, Tubs, and Other Containers) and BSed with TA for a bit. I did end up taking some pictures, but they mostly sucked.

All in all, it really wasn't worth putting pants on for.

Anywho... I'd best get to it. I've got a stack of crap to do, and since I wasted my time taking another transcription test (I totally aced it on the second try, but accidentally hit the "test completed" button, when it wasn't. You only get two tries,) I should probably get busy.

Ya'll have a booty kickin' Monday. We'll talk again soon.

Later Tater!

Of Pandas and Puking

I should probably be making dinner, but it can wait. I'm not really in the mood at the moment.

The Saturday before the Monday when I became um.. "liberated".. from my position at The Asylum, I got a wild hair up my beehind and bought myself a fancy new washing machine. My little Panda washer was still chugging along, my only complaint being that I couldn't wash anything big, like blankets or bedspreads. On the front of the little Panda was a sticker that said, "Do not immerse in water."

And now I know why.

Apparently I neglected to turn the cold water hose off all the way the last time I unloaded the washer. By the time I noticed, the cats' litter boxes were floating in about two inches of water, along with a few stray turds.

We won't even go into the magnitude of the resulting mess. Use you're imagination.. and multiply times 100.

Anywho, after the Great Flood, the little Panda wouldn't come on. Poor little Panda. It's now laying on it's side in the backyard.

The new washer was on sale. It has more buttons than I know what to do with. It's one of those fancy HE models (not a front loader, let's don't get crazy) and it has a fabric softener dispenser.

I'VE NEVER HAD A WASHER THAT DIDN'T NEED A DOWNY BALL!!!!

I have washed more laundry in the past two weeks than I have since we moved here. My closet is full. It's no wonder I never had anything to wear.

In other news...

I was tidying up the living room the other night and reached over the couch to straighten the curtain and the back of the couch fell off.

Just like that. Boom. I said words. Lots of words. The kind that make your mama take off her house shoe and fling it at your head.

We have one of those reclining models, with a foot rest on each end. I imagine, that as TA and I fought off the crud from hell, taking turns sleeping on the comfy end, our substantially ample booties, with their wiggling and trying to rollover, must have jiggled something loose, causing the middle section of the couch to become unattached.

I've had the time, but not the gumption, to flip it over and inspect the damage. I'm afraid to look. Maybe.. but it's not likely, I can put it back together. In light of recent events, I really don't want to go couch shopping.

As I mentioned, TA and I had the flu/virus/infection/demonic possession from the deepest regions of Hell, which ushered us straight in to allergy season. I'm pretty much over it, other than sounding like Bea Arthur. TA however, had to finally admit defeat and go to the Minute Clinic, returning home with a ginormous bag of assorted pharmaceuticals. She'd coughed so much that she bruised up her insides and had started puking.

Like.. infant formula projectile puking.

We have two big hulking boxes of Christmas decorations siting outside the bathroom. They should have been taken out to the RV by now, but I'm a little behind.

From Christmas 2014.

Shut up.

So TA was making a dash to the potty palace the other night in the midst of a coughing fit. Then I heard it.. and I knew she hadn't made it to the throne. I found her standing in the hall, her hand over her mouth.

"I'm so sorry, but you'll want to get the mop."

"Why do I have to get the mop? What are you gonna do when I die? You're grown, mop up your own puke." Because I'm a bad mom sometimes.

"It didn't all go in the floor," she said, looking horrified.

"Did you.. you didn't. You did didn't you. YOU PUKED ON CHRISTMAS!! OMG ALL OVER THE BABY JESUS!! IT'S NO WONDER WE'RE CURSED!!!!"

She shuffled off to the bathroom. I mopped. I haven't looked in the box. We need new Christmas decorations anyway.

Anywho.. That's the latest from my little corner of the holler. Ya'll have a good one, we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!

Cemetery Stomping at Oddfellow's and Hiking in the Woods

Since last month, each weekend has been spent either mowing, obliterating the wilderness with my chainsaw, hauling crap to the dump, supervising other people with machetes as they take out their frustrations on the backyard rain forest, hiking.. sorta.. up mountain sides and through ancient cemeteries, trying to find someone to fix the hemorrhaging water pipe under the house and staring at the tree that missed the roof by about 12 inches during the last gully washer.

In between the weekends, it's been overtime at The Asylum, bitchy customers, doctor's appointments with Ma and nursing home stress.

This weekend, it's just been me, Dexter and the bed. I am tired. I think I'm allowed.

On Mother's Day, The Amazon came home from work and hopped in the bed and offered to take me off on an adventure. I took a quick shower, threw on an old skirt and some flip flops and we took off with Ayla in TA's little Outback.

We drove up to the top of Froggy Mountain, took the turnoff and crossed the shaky overpass onto a lumpy old dirt road, heading further up in to the wilderness. We parked at the end of the road, way up in the woods somewhere, then set off on foot.

The pasture on either side used to be tobacco fields, but are now planted with berry bushes and fruit trees to feed the bears and other wildlife that is protected here. It was weird to be at a point so high that there were no other mountains on the horizon. At the end of the clearing, the path lead back in to the woods, which must be a popular spot with the hikers.

I hung out at the top while T.A. took Ayla down the trail to large pond. It was downhill and pretty steep. I doubted I could heave my fat ass back up the trail in flip flops. While she and Ayla enjoyed the pond view, we heard the distinctive honking of an amorous stag. I told T.A. to honk back. I figured, if he mistook her for another male deer and came after her, I could get a gazillion YouTube hits. T.A., however, refused.

Dammit.

We hung out up there for a while, it was so quiet. There wasn't anyone else on the mountain top and you could hear every bird, every bug. It was pretty awesome.

When we got back to the car it was still pretty early, so we decided to head to the far side of town and up another mountain to check out the Oddfellow's Cemetery. This too was far off the beaten path. We'd gotten about halfway up there before admitting we probably should  have taken the truck, not only for the 4 x 4 but also to keep from getting stuck in the ginormous pot holes. Some of them were big enough to swallow T.A.'s little car whole. It was more of a wagon trail than a road.

We drove past the cemetery twice before we found it. T.A. insisted that it was an old dog log at the top of the hill. I'm not even sure you could call it a proper cemetery. There were no borders or paths, just a smattering of graves in the woods. We walked and walked, the stones getting older, until we thought we'd reached the end, just to look ahead and find another group of markers. 

I knew that my Great Uncle Jim is buried up there somewhere, but we never found his plot. I did find a marker for a two other greats, brother and sister, who died about a year apart. 

So that was a bonus. I didn't even know they were up there. 

I was starting to get a little nervous, stomping around in the woods in a skirt and flip flops. It was the beginning of snake season and they love the thick leaves and brush we were battling. Plus it was hot and I was running out of steam. I think we spent an hour up there before I called it a day and decided to head back to the house. But I'm going back... when it cools off.. a lot. 

In other news, Little Allen fixed my leaky pipe and refused payment. His wife, RiRi Niblett is preggers again and I'm sure they could have used some extra cash. 

At The Asylum we're still waiting for the Germans to come save the day. They're currently in negotiations with Corporate over who's going to fix the shitty roof. I wish they'd hurry up.

There'll be more soon, now that I've found my card reader. However, I've also lost my camera charger. I think I need to get organized.

But not today. I'm going to toss some clothes on and run to the Dolla Store. I don't have any clean delicate underthings, I'm hoping they have some. The laundromat closes in 30 minutes and frankly, I'm not washing anything tonight. 

Or maybe I'll go commando.

Anywho, that's all for now. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters! 

Cover Me. I'm Going In.

I stopped in town yesterday to ask RonRon the Leprechaun if he'd come check our plumbing. He did such a good job last time and I can't really afford a real plumber.

 I got out of the truck, worked up some courage and approached the scary looking bald-on-top, hair-to-his-waist-in-the-back redhead. "How are you today?" I asked.

He slowly turned, revealing a reddened, puffy face, eyes like slits and a snaggle toothed shit eatin' grin. He lifted his hands to the sky, spread his arms wide and turned his face toward the mountain. Either he was having a religious experience or he was totally roasted.

Maybe I'm being all Judgey McSnootypants but I'm pretty sure he was wasted.

I excused myself and left. I saw him again at lunch today, already nursing a beer, so I decided The Universe was trying to tell me to put on my big girl panties and fix it myself. I had myself worked up to it before I left the office, but then I stopped at the dolla store. Inside, the stench of raw sewage was wafting up and down the aisles. They're on my street. I bet it's everyone. By the time I got home, I'd convinced myself that:

1. I'm too tired
2. I already feel like crap on a cracker. I won't elaborate too much, I'll just say that at a certain age, the regularity of one's body's proof of it's ability to breed becomes a royal pain in the ass.
3. #2 leads to #1
4. It's too much to tackle after work. I can get T.A. to help me after she gets off at the library tomorrow.

There's a trap about four feet from the road. I have a 20 ft plumber snakey thing. I reckon I can just shove that mutha down there and crank it. If I hit something hard, I've got about 15 ft of black water pipe that T.A. bought to make hoola-hoops with. I can ram that in there too I guess.

Is there a flangey doohickey where our pipe feeds in to the main town line?

This is going to be ugly. I can feel it.

Pray for me. Burn some sage. Dance nekkid in the moonlight around a bonfire and chant whatever the hell you need to in my name.

Tomorrow.. I'm going in.

Later Taters!!!  

At Least There's Ice Cream

I wasn't very productive at The Asylum today. Not that I'm ever a nominee for employee of the week, but I usually manage to accomplish something.

I think the problem started over the weekend. Due to a sudden lack of hours at the jammie job (I worked five last week) I've gotten a crap load of house work done.

Until Sunday.

First, the light blew in the kitchen, which kinda skeeved me out 'cuz I'm on season four of Supernatural and that's how all the freaky shit usually starts.

I'm still kinda jumpy being here by myself at night. I should probably watch Oprah or something instead, but anywho...

The bunnies were hopping around the house, stretching their legs and trying to take over my bed. I was gathering up trash to be taken out by The Amazon when she got home and heard a weird noise in the living room.

Did you know that bunnies LOVE to dig? They especially love the big, fluffy, white pieces of litter in their box. With the help of the ceiling fan, the living room floor looked like the Bunny Slope at Aspen. As I swept up THAT mess, I noticed that Reginald's front feet were awfully dark and dirty. Apparently they enjoy digging in cold fireplace ashes as well. He found the old pot on the corner of the hearth and went crazy in it.

I decided it was time to put the bunns back in their pen, leaving the ashes on the floor until I was done. I came back in just in time to find Kitty, who's box had been in need of attention for a day or two (yes, I am ashamed) squatting to pee in the ashes. On the floor.

In the meantime...

I'd been doing laundry all day. As the last load reached the rinse cycle, I heard a gurgling in my bathroom. Water was filling the shower (there's no tub) and out into the floor. Before I could get to the washer to turn it off, there was a half inch murky, icky backwash running across the floor and down in to the vent.

I finally said effit and went to bed.

I got up to take a shower the next morning. My bath rug was soaked and musty smelling. Kitty decided it would be okay to pee on that while I fixed my hair.

Later that day, I spent my lunch break taking the trash to the dump because the bags never made it to the curb Monday morning. Then, after work I drove to the grocery store because we were out of everything and I had to wait for payday to go... so yeah.

I wasn't worth a shit today. I probably won't be for the rest of the night either.

At least there's ice cream (it's okay, it's sugar free.)

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

Later Taters!

Mahala's State of the Holler Address

We're all still a little Cray Cray here in The Holler

Let's get caught up on stuff and things, kay?

Working Commando

I'm becoming a little disenchanted with the whole "sell-overpriced-stuff-on-the-teevee-in-your-jammies-for-minimum-wage" job. I'm thankful to be able to work from home without spending money on gas and the opportunity to work in my skivvies with a pup at my feet. I don't know what I'd be doing for money to make ends meet without it, but honestly? They have kind of an asshole way of treating employees.

And I worked for Bossholio. I know that of which I speak.

Let me clarify first that it's not the actual tv shopping company that gives me grief. It's the third party outfit I'm  employed by.

First, it's the emails. Email is the preferred method of communication by The Company. I have never not shown up for a shift, but suddenly we're getting these long, threatening emails every week detailing what will happen if we fail to log on. It spells out how the Big Boss checks at the start, middle and other intervals throughout the shift to see who's not shown up and to decide who to block. It seems to me that if you can do all that, you could do some copy and pasting of email addys and send the email to those to whom it applies.

Just a thought.

Also, five minutes after you get the threatening email, you get one begging for extra help for the night. It kinda puts a damper on your willingness to help.

I had to stop going to the discussion boards. It was constant public fights between the Big Boss and anyone who questioned why they got blocked, usually ending with the BB threatening to publish the employee in question's schedule adherence stats on the boards.

The opposite of professional.

We are supposed to keep all our calls to less than three and a half minutes and when you're taking sales calls, which is what we're supposed to be doing, it's not a problem. However, we're not supposed to transfer calls to Customer Service, even when they request customer service. We're supposed to handle it ourselves. I'm not sure why you HAVE a customer service department if you can't transfer calls to them, but whatever. Trying to figure out what Sally Mae ordered when she doesn't even remember, then after spending 10 minutes questioning her and doing item searches only to find out that she meant to call that other channel... all while having a flashing warning at the bottom of your screen telling you your call is too long... seems a bit much... even in your jammies.

I'm currently under a deadline to improve my sales. I need the job, but I'm not going to stress out over it. I do the best I can and I'll just deal with the consequences if that's not good enough. It'll be fine.

I am the sales ninja.

Life Without Zombies

It's been over a week without satellite and honestly, I don't know why we even have it. The Amazon doesn't get home from work until after midnight every night and I work so much through the week, I can't watch it either. This weekend I've figured out that between Netflix and Hulu, there isn't much I can't watch.

Except The Walking Dead. I miss Daryl.

Also? I found out this morning that there's a whole new season of Touch I didn't even know about. I LOVE THIS SHOW. I am currently getting caught up on the serious lack of Kiefer Sutherland there's been in my life.

How's The Weather Down Yonder?

It's spring in the holler, which means the days alternate between colder than penguin snot and omg wtf is up with this bewb sweat already? Right now, the sun is shining, I've got the back door open, ceiling fans going and we're under a winter storm watch. They're predicting a few inches of snow by Tuesday afternoon.

I hope the power doesn't go out, but if it does I've got some extra wood in the backseat of the truck that I've been riding around with for two weeks.

Meanwhile, Back At The Asylum

I love Sparkles. Not in a I-wanna-jump-his-bones kinda way, but in an OMG-THE-BEST-BOSS-EVER way. I tell T.A. he's Sparkles the Magical Unicorn. If he knew I called him that, he'd be horrified. It's not all glitter and ice cream all the time, I mean, sales are down this month and sometimes he walks around looking like Grumpy Cat but there's a sense of  us being in this thing together and trying to figure out what to do to make things better, instead of how it used to be, which was all "COMPASSION? I DON'T NEED NO STEENKING COMPASSION!!! DO IT SLAVE!!!

I no longer have to take medication to get through the day at work. That kind of says it all.

Speaking of Medication

I'm back on the WHERE'S MY EFFIN COLCHICINE MOTHER FECKER??? roller coaster.  I still get it free, when I get it. The company that makes it changed distributors and the new distributor isn't on Dr. Sexypants "e-scription" list. The new company keeps telling me that they sent a Rx request to Dr. Sexypants' office and Dr. Sexypants' office says they haven't seen anything and I'm trying to call them both, spending a big chunk of my life that I'll never get back in automated telephone system hell. Why the crapdammit they can't call each other is beyond me.

In the meantime, I've been rationing the remaining pills, taking way less than I'm supposed to and as a result I've got a serious case of the Rice Crispy joints. I couldn't use my thumbs this morning. You need thumbs. Have you ever witnessed a seeing eye dog make coffee? No. Why? BECAUSE YOU NEED THUMBS, THAT'S WHY.

I tried to load the dishwasher this morning. I was juggling plates like a circus performer.

I'm calling them tomorrow. I might have to get ugly.

Anywho, it's getting up in the evening on Sunday night, so I'd better hunt up some dinner and try to settle in and get ready for the snowstorm... and the rest of the week.

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

Later Taters!!

OMG I Almost Died Part 2

At SireBoned, the desk guy was your stereotypical southern man of color who prefers the company of other men. And he played fabulous.... fabulously. As I relayed the story of my near death trauma, he threw his hands up in the air, exclaiming “Jesus Christmas!!!!” He shook his head, hands on hips and emitting lots of “MMMM mmm mmms” and Oh my GAW-UDs!” When I told him about the little hussy who flipped me off, he freaked.. backed away from the counter, waving his hand in the air and saying, “Oh NO she dint!” Then he did the classic Diana-Ross-Stop-In-The-Name-Of-Love hand gesture and said, “I am at work and I have to WATCH what I say but... OH MY GAW-UD! No.. You are probably good Christian people and I am the debbil, so I just won't say it.. but... (hanging his head and shaking it in disbelief) MMMM, mmm, mmm, mmm.”

I love him.

But then he left and I had to deal with Manuel. Manuel was charming, not bad looking and the type that made my bullshit shields go up immediately. After the “courtesy check” of my brakes, which` took like an hour, Manuel told me it was going to be $486 to fix my brakes. The wrecker driver seemed to think it was going to be less than $100. I was suspicious. He then explained that they'd have to remove the gas tank.. blah blah blah. I was freakin'. I looked at him, explained that all my cards were maxed out, I only had $100 in my savings.. and Manuel was all, “Hey! You can apply for a SireBoned account!!!”

Because I really need one more payment every month.

Of course I was denied, which was evident to everyone in the whole lobby. SireBoned really needs to work on their customer's privacy.

Anywho, I was pretty much screwed. It would cost another $100 to tow Jolene back to the holler and even then I didn't know who was going to fix her. I told him just to hold off until the next day so I could see if I could come up with some money and left with The Amazon.

My nerves were pretty much clusterfucked. I worried what would have happened if I'd been heading down the mountain or on the expressway. I wrung my hands over where the hell I was going to cough up that kind of money.. yet I had T.A. take me to the grocery store. We still had to eat, right?

At the organic, non-GMO grocer, I looked over the weight loss supplements but I couldn't find anything with the combination of stop-me-from-eating-like-a-crazy-person supplements that I'd been looking for. I eventually ended up grabbing a bottle of magnesium, some zinc and a combo of B vitamins. When I got to the checkout, the valley girl cashier informed me that they'd just started a vitamin thingie that gives you $10 off your tenth bottle when you've bought 9 costing at least $5 each.

Woohoo!

Okay so.. it wasn't going to make up for the ass load of cash I needed to fix Jolene, but it was something.

I didn't sleep much that night. T.A. was out visiting Boy Wonder, leaving me home alone with the animals and an anxiety filled head.

The next morning I checked my bank account, did some quick shuffling and discovered that if I skipped the truck payment, I could scratch up enough to get it fixed. It was around then that Manuel called. He wanted to know if it was okay to go ahead and fix Jolene.. and to tell me that upon further inspection it was going to be more like $566 to get her fixed.

W. T. F.

I think I said something to the effect of “Well you've got my ass over a barrel, just fix the damned thing.”

Which made Manuel a happy man.

Me? Not so much.

But Jolene is fixed. Well.. the brakes are. She's going ghetto hillbilly fast. Since her overnight stay at SireBoned, my speedometer now reads 50mph at a dead stop and I have to use tweezers to change CDs. Oh yeah and there's a dent where I hit The Amazon's wrecked Blazer that's been sitting in the yard for like six months.

Poor Jolene.

Anywho... I went to the doc Friday for more fun and games and I had a visit from Long Lost Daughter and the grandbabies last weekend. I'll give you the latest on those adventures in a day or two. For now, I think I'm going to go play on the innerwebs.
Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!

OMG I ALMOST DIED

I had a hellish week at The Asylum. Sparkles didn't get back into town until Thursday and it was busier than a one legged hillbilly in an ass kicking contest. I mean.. it wasn't the kind of hellish I used to have when Bossholio was there, but between having to socialize with the CEO (who only remembers my name because he once caught me walking around with a lime green sticky note, with the world "REJECT" attached to my forehead, compliments of Lulu) and being short a person, it was a challenge to keep up. By five on Friday I had a serious case of fry brain. I started my second shift at the "let's buy things off the t.v. or maybe just call and bitch at people because we already spent all our money on stretchy pants" channel with limited mental resources and by the time I finished THAT shift, I was toast.

I think that's why I love that zombie show so much, I can relate to the brain dead on a personal level. 

I got up sorta early on Saturday morning, after going back to sleep like three times. Mayhaps I was a tad bit tired. The plan was to color my hair, hop in the truck and head to Big City to visit Ma, pick up some grub from the healthy food grocery and stop at the big chain drug store with initials for a name. Let's call it The Gimics and Drugs Store.. or for short, The GD Store. I was in search of both wrinkle cream and diet pills. 

The GD Store ended up being my first stop. I had a coupon for $2 off skin care and I'd been reading up about Retinal ever since I had the TWENTY FREAKIN' MINUTE phone call the other night from a customer who wasn't even buying anything but went on and on about the importance of using Retinal on your face. (Remember, my calls are supposed to be under 210 seconds. She had me in deep doodoo.)

The particular formulation I wanted to try wasn't sold at WallyWorld, nor did The GD Store have it in their house brand. 

Dammit. 

So anyways, I scored the wrinkle, dark spot, been beaten with an ugly stick since birth cream and headed over to the fatty fatty two by four aisle. I'd been doing research on the innerwebs, trying to find something without any stimulants that would help block the absorption carbs or help curb the craving for carbs. 

Hunger isn't my problem. I just eat. I've been really concerned since taking the second job that with my sitting at a desk for 8 hours a day then coming home and sitting for three more hours at night, I was going to end up having to cut a new front door before long. 

After much reading, I'd come up with a few possibilities. There's a new product on the market made from white kidney bean extract that blocks carbs from being absorbed but it's nearly impossible to find. I also found several articles on taking supplemental magnesium. Apparently, a magnesium deficiency will cause a craving for carby things AND is fairly common among those of us with... as TA and I refer to it around the house.. The Betiss. (We differentiate between the two as the Fat People Betiss, type 2 and the GaGa Betis, type 1 or.. born that way. We are fully aware that we ain't right.) The B vitamins were mentioned a bit and there were studies involving Zinc, Chromium and a exotic African fruit too, so I didn't really know what I was looking for. I just knew I needed something. 

Down at the GD Store they keep all diet related crap locked in a cabinet with a big ass red button that says, "press for service." Now, being a woman of ample bee-hind and a pretty active anxiety disorder, seeing a button like that strikes fear in my quivering heart. I tried to read labels through the glass, but I wasn't having much luck. Eventually, a youngish employee walked up and asked if I needed help. I quietly asked, "If I hit this button, will an automated announcement blare over the intercom like, "FATTY NEEDS ASSISTANCE ON AISLE 6, FATTY NEEDS ASSISTANCE ON AISLE 6?"

She looked at me like she wanted to laugh, but I'd broken out in a sweat by this point and I was probably a little scary looking. "Oh no ma'am, it just lets us know to bring a key."

"And how does it let you know?"

"An alarm rings in the back," she stated confidently.

An alarm? Really? I just looked at her. 

"Would you like me to go get the key?"

"Could you?" 

She scurried off, probably thankful to get away from me. Soon a tiny blonde bimbette returned with the key. She unlocked the cabinet and while I stooped to read the labels on the bottles, she stood over me with her arms crossed and watched me like a hawk, her baby blues boring a hole in the back of my head. 

After the 15 most uncomfortable seconds of my life I put the box back in the case and turned to her, "You know what? Never mind. Thanks anyway." I turned and left as she heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. 

I took my wrinkle cream and got the hell out of Dodgeola. 

I stopped at the auto parts place for wiper blades. Mine were so old they had a big strip hanging off them, waving to everyone I passed. 

I'd gone back and forth changing my mind about going to visit Ma at Shady Pines. It had been snowing ginormous fluffy flakes in the holler when I left and at first I thought I'd better hurry and get back home. But the weather in Big City, while colder than a witches tit was pretty clear.I decided I'd go spend a few minutes with Ma before getting groceries. I took the back roads through a residential neighborhood with huge houses and a park with a lake where all the high fallootin' folks exercise their designer pooches. As I passed the lake, the car in front of me stopped suddenly behind the turning vehicle in front of her. I eased on Jolene's brakes... I pumped the brakes.. I swerved onto the grass, between two trees and wooden posts lining the park to avoid the car in front of me and stood up on the brake pedal... straight for a tree. When I stopped I was alongside the turning car, even with the front of her little car. The Bitch looked at me, flipped me off and cussed me out, looking like a demon possessed valley girl.  

EXCUSE ME I JUST RISKED DEATH TO KEEP FROM KILLING YOU. NO I'M FINE REALLY. YOU'RE WELCOME. 

I sat there for a minute. My chest hurt. I couldn't breathe. I kept looking at the tree. I tried the brake pedal. It kinda went floppity flop. Floppity flop is not a good thing when it comes to brake pedals. I was barely out of the road, I was afraid to move my truck because I obviously had no brakes. I called 911. As I explained what had happened, I started bawling like a crazy person. The dispatcher seemed confused. Here's some crazy old woman WHO IS FINE yet bawling AND SHE DIDN'T EVEN HIT ANYTHING. She was able to find my location by my cellphone, because I was not being very helpful. She was extremely patient and kind with my breakdown. 

Yes, this is the tree. It was almost the last thing I saw. 

However, it was over a half hour before an officer decided to stop by.

Luckily, TA was killing time in Big City, waiting to go visit Boy Wonder when he got off work. I texted her then called her, still blubbering. She was there, from the other side of town before the popo ever showed up. 

She used her uber phone to find a wrecker, who was going to charge $150 to tow me back to Frog Pond Holler. The police eventually did show and she was like.. well.. you're okay, you're out of the road and you've got a wrecker on the way. You'll be fine. I was like.. yeah.. NOW I AM. 

I spent entirely too much time at the side of the highway in 26° weather, raccoon eyes and limping from wearing my old shoes because Yoda PEED in my fricken tenny shoes. 

I think I did some damn fine driving to keep from hitting a tree, a post or one mouthy little bitch while standing up on the brake pedal, trying to stop Jolene while flying towards a tree and having a nervous breakdown. All those years of watching the Dukes of Hazard paid off. 

When the rollback got there and pulled Jolene up on his truck, he got to looking and said, "Ya know, here's your problem. It's the brake line. It's busted. That part don't cost hardly nothing, how about I just take you over to "sounds like Sire Boned." "

After some advanced calculations, I decided that it would probably be more cost efficient to do that. I had no clue who was going to fix it when I got back to town anyway. 

So off we went to Sire Boned. 

And I'll have to finish later.. there's more to the story, but I need a shower and to color my hair. And I need a ride to Big City.

Ya'll hang in there. I'll have more soon. 

Later Taters!!!

Divine Intervention and Walking Dead Girl

It's been a week full of snot churning, belly aching and hacking up assorted vital organs around the Mahala house. The Amazon was kind enough to bring home a bug, one that I skillfully avoided for almost a week before waking up Saturday morning feeling like an extra on the set of The Walking Dead. I called in sick yesterday, to a boss who told me to please take care of myself and feel better, which almost made me weep after 7 years of Bossholio. I drug myself in to the office this morning. I felt like I had magical powers as I walked down the hall and watched everyone magically move out of my path, like I was spewing plague mist out of my eyes like lasers.

It didn't go well.

I felt kinda guilty for taking the chance that I'd infect everyone else, but my desk is piled high.

I'm pretty sure I have the flu.

I ended up leaving at 4 to give myself time to recover before starting a shift taking calls from 6-9. In the meantime, I developed a hellacious headache.. you know.. the kind you get when you've been hacking unproductively for hours and you feel like your left temple is bulging out like something from The Elephant Man.

Anywho, all systems at the Taking-Calls-But-Not-Porn company were clusterfucked into the 12th dimension, someone took the phone off the hook at the Call-This-Number-24-7-If-You-Need-Help line and the Send-An-Email-If-You-Can't-Get-Through page was crashed. I finally got into the We-Can-Try-To-Help chatroom, which, as you can imagine, was flooded with people having issues. Unfortunately, I was pretty sure the whole reason I couldn't get in was not because of the known issues, it was because my THREE passwords had expired yesterday and although I'd reset them, I'd written them down and with my throbbing eyeball, I'd gotten them mixed up and proceeded to get myself locked out. This can only be fixed by calling the line that no one was answering because, I'm pretty sure, all 600 or so operators were calling because of the fore mentioned clusterfuckery.

After about an hour and a half I decided it was Fuck this Shit o'clock and I logged off, puked for thirty minutes then settled in on the couch.

I'm feeling much better at the moment.

~*~

If you're my Facebook bud, you know I bought fishy last weekend. His name is Ludwig Von Beta-toven. He lives in a 2.5 gallon little tank with some gothic church ruins on top of the t.v. I am a dork. I've learned to embrace it.

~*~

About three weeks ago, The Big Headed German called to congratulate me on paying off the first of my 401K loans. I had taken it out to make the down payment on Jolene when I was desperate for a vehicle and broke. It meant another $25 a pay check.

Right after Christmas I got another call, this one from a collection agency. That credit card company that pissed me off when my world went all kittwampus had apparently decided we needed to end our relationship. At first I got defensive, but then I was like.. okay look, shit happens, I did the best I could. What do I need to do to fix this? So Kathy, the nice lady at the collection agency offered me a settlement for $2500. WHAT a coinkidink. That was about how much that 401K loan was for. I told her I'd look into it and get right back to her. The most I could get was $2300, but I couldn't apply until x number of days had passed, after January 1st. I called Kathy back and she said she could make $2300 work IF I could secure the funds by January 7th, because on that day my account would cycle (apparently credit card accounts get Aunt Flo.)

I got the loan approved and a check in hand by the 6th.

I don't care what ya'll say, that right there was some Divine Intervention.

~*~

Anywho, I reckon I'm going to try it again tomorrow, so I should go see if I've got some clean pants to wear.   If not, I'm might just find some stuffed in a corner somewhere, hit it with the lint roller and some febreeze and take my chances. It's not like anyone's gonna get close enough to smell me anyway.

Ya'll take care. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!

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Humpin' in The Holler

A light snow fell in Frog Pond Holler Saturday night, leaving the ground with a light dusting, like powdered sugar on warm gingerbread. It also turned cold. Very cold.

I am no longer bitching constantly asking "where's winter?" I found it. Good Gawdalmighty.

Things have been kinda busy around the trailer, with Christmas and the two jobs and all the critters and the shopping and ...... well ya'll get the idea.

I just mailed pressies to the Long Lost Daughter house today. Seeing how they didn't make it to the post office until six days past Christmas, I'd say they're gonna be late. I asked the cocky chick at the post office if she had like.. a time machine or some crap.. but she said no.

Ya'll will be happy to hear that life at The Asylum has taken a complete turn from the time of Bossholio's reign. We laugh. We yack. We get stuff done. No one gets mad. It's like The Twilight Zone, without the creepy music.

Speaking of music, I can listen to the radio at my desk again. It makes me happy.

I've gotten in the habit of bringing the bunnies in on Saturdays to let them romp around the living room. I bring their little pewp box in and so far, there have been very, very few accidents. I put their blanket in the floor and they hop around and hang out. Occasionally Cicero will lower his head, thump and charge at Yoda, sending the little yapper scurrying across the kitchen floor with his eyeballs bugged out so far they look like they may go shooting out of his head.

Cracks. Me. Up.

The cat keeps an eye on them, but has no desire to get anywhere near them and Sammy doesn't care what's going on, as long as he has someone to scootch his hairless butt up to.

Ayla has to stay outside during bunny time.

I still haven't managed to get them to the vet and I know I'm pushing my luck. Two males sharing a hutch are probably going to fight eventually, if we don't go for the snip-snip pretty soon. Knowing this, I wasn't surprised, but yet still amused when I looked down to see Cicero stretched out on the floor snoozing, then Reginald casually hopping atop him and doing the bunny hump with a passion.

"Pssst T.A.," I said, pointing to the lurid display of brotherly love taking place right in front of the Christmas tree.

"What.. what.. NO NO NO!" T.A. lept to her feet, scaring the urge right out of Reginald, picking him up to her face and scolding him. "That is very naughty. It's okay if you want to hump another boy bunny, but not your brother, that's just gross."

That's my kid.

Anywho....

It's New Year's Eve and I'm an hour and a half in to a 3 hour shift with the "Over-priced-crap-you-can-prolly-get-cheaper-at-Wallyworld-but-not-on-a-payment-plan" company. I'm trying to get 6-9 M-F, or as close to it as I can. 15 hours a week should be enough to keep the lights on and stop any more collection agency calls. Plus, I'll still have my weekends to do other stuff... or pick up some extra hours here and there.

We'll see how it all works out.

When the clock strikes nine, I'll feed critters.. maybe nuke some soup or something.. and stretch out in front of the bewb tube. Tomorrow, my only plan is to take my $50 gift card (from Sparkles!) to the OrganiHippyMart for groceries, then come home to lay around.

I have loads of other crap to do, but laying around is all that's getting done. And a 3 hour shift tomorrow night.. but that's working on my butt in fluffy pj pants..

I want to wish all Ya'll a big ol' Happy New Year direct from Frog Pond Holler. Be careful, drive safe and if you plan to bump uglies with Mr. (or Miss) Right Now be sure to wrap that rascal.

Later Taters!


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Bobby McSuperTrooper

Between Frog Pond Holler and the county seat, alongside a winding mountain road, sits a very nice house, large by Holler standards, with a manicured yard, hanging baskets and all sorts of fancy little doo-dads. To the left of the property is a small plot of Christmas trees and a corn field with a trail that leads back up to the top of the hill and beyond.

The man who lives in the very nice house is retired highway patrolman Bobby McSuperTrooper. Bobby is well known all over Hee-Haw county and beyond, with his side buzzed flat top, slightly lopsided noggin, thick glasses and protruding belly as the lawman who bragged that he'd given a ticket to his own mother. Those of us who listen to the police scanner had his badge number memorized, we always knew when McSuperTrooper was on the scene.

When I took EMT classes at the local community college, Bobby M. was one of the participants. He only showed up to about every other class, but still got credit for his hours for no reason other than he was Bobby  McSuperTrooper. The rest of us had better not even THINK about being late. On the night we practiced loading patients into the ambulance, we elected Bobby M. to act as the patient, strapped him to the gurney and took turns racing his screaming body around the slopping parking lot.

He vowed he'd catch us all on the road.

Everyone in our county and the next knew where McSuperTrooper lived. His house is often used as a landmark here in Podunk to determine the location of accidents. I think the 911 dispatchers for Hee-Haw county are actually trained to ask if the wreck is "just before McSuperTrooper's" or "just past McSuperTrooper's" or "right there by McSuperTrooper's," seeing how he lives in a particularly bad curve and that's where most of the really juicy ones take place.

For years, whenever someone told you they'd been pulled over, the first thing you'd automatically ask was, "Was it Bobby M.?" and if it was, you knew they not only got a ticket, but he didn't cut them any slack AT ALL.

Bobby McSuperTrooper struck fear in the hearts of Hee-Haw county residents.

There's a reason I'm telling ya'll all about Bobby McSuperTrooper.

Yesterday, while I was home on my lunch break, screaming obscenities at my router doohickey because every time I tried to print a shipping label for the HUGE amount of sudden Etsy orders I've received (thank ya'll.. you have no idea how happy you made me.. you know who you are) the internet would go kaplooey, I got a phone call from The Amazon. It was the phone call that all moms and dads dread, the one that makes you catch your breath, your heart stop and all the feeling run out of your body.

"Mommy, I wrecked my car."

It took me a minute or two to process what she'd said. I eventually got some sense back and hopped in Jolene to fly out to where The Amazon was. She wasn't hurt, not bad. Her seat belt left a nasty burn that looks like she was clawed by some kinda demonic entity in her sleep and I'm sure she'll be a little sore, but all in all she's fine. The front end of her Blazer got crunched pretty good. It'll start, but the insurance will most likely total it. I asked her if the paramedics had checked her out. 

"No, they didn't have time. They had to take the other driver in the ambulance. He had a neck brace and they put him on a backboard."

"Don't panic, it was probably just a precaution," I offered. "If there is any chance of a back injury at all they're extra careful."

The Amazon started getting upset. 

"It's not that. It's who it was," she added.

My mind raced. My dad's whole family lives right around there. In a split second, 20 different possible scenarios ran through my mind. My one legged uncle, my aunt Ola, some pregnant cousin I hadn't met.

"I hit Bobby McSuperTrooper."

I turned in to one of those only-goes-to-town-for-fireworks-and-checkups kinda hillbillies, right there at the side of the road. 

"OMG YOU DID WHAT? Of all the people in Hee-Haw County to hit.. YOU HAD TO HIT MCSUPERTROOPER???????" Arms were flailing, I was stomping out into the middle of the highway, trying to see how bad his car was as they pulled it up on the rollback. I thought I was gonna have a full blown hissyfit right there in front of God and everybody.

I eventually simmered my little ass down and we made it back to the house. All evening, T.A. kept saying, "OMG he's OLD and he's GONNA DIE."  I had Thelma call the hospital this morning to see if Bobby M. had been discharged and he had. All day today at The Asylum, people's reaction has been the same.

"The Amazon wrecked her Blazer? OMG is she okay? Did she total it? Who did she hit?"

"OMG SHE HIT BOBBY MCSUPERTROOPER????????"

And then they laugh. I'm not sure how I feel about that. 

Anywho, that's how MY week is going. How about yours?

Ya'll be careful out there. And wear your seat belts.

Later Taters!!

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Circus Folk and Whispered Answers

Lawrence the Camel

It's overcast and kinda bleh in Frog Pond Holler today. I've got a ginormous pot of turtle beans on the stove, future veggie burgers, and the washing machine is going full speed. I would lay around and take it easy today,  seeing how it's a holiday and all, but I spent yesterday in a Benedryl induced coma.

Me and The Amazon went to the circus Thursday night, in sorta celebration of her birthday. She brought Boy Wonder along, whom Ayla greeted with a super nut punch, sending him to his knees.

My dogs have no manners.

It was a tiny circus, the kind that smells of popcorn, poop and desperation. It had one tent and a hand full of people who ran around like crazy from selling souvenirs to performing to moving equipment. I think I smiled the whole time I was there. Well, except for when they brought out the snake. I could have lived without that, especially sitting on makeshift bleachers in the dark with grass under my feet.  I managed to get a couple of pictures before my camera battery died. Next time I'll be better prepared.

Circus Horsey

Saturday I went to visit Ma, stopping at Goodwill on the way. I found some old storage jars, the kind with the metal latchy bit, 2 quart sized, for three dollars a piece. I picked up a few pairs of pants for work too and some postal scales (for a DOLLAR!) not a bad haul.

I've been working, slowly, on getting moved into Ma's old bedroom. I've had a lot of mixed feelings as I go through her things, deciding what to put in storage and what to give away. I worried that I'd go to all this trouble and then she'd get better and they'd send her home.. THEN what would I do? So then, I'd feel guilty hoping she didn't get well enough to come home.. which is kinda screwed up.

I've been really torn through this whole thing.

Earlier in the week, during a particularly emotional time, I sat at my desk and just asked The Universe, God, Big Ernie.. whoever.. to give me some kind of assurance that this was what I needed to be doing.

My head knows it is, it's the rest of me that's having a hard time.

So when I visited Ma on Saturday and as I started to leave she hugged me and said, "Now don't you worry about me. I'm doing a lot better here than I thought I would. It's such a relief to not worry about falling or not being able to get to the bathroom on time. I'm right where I need to be."

So I bawled some more when I got to the truck, because I know someone whispered in her ear and told her I needed to know that.

I get the weepies all the time anymore. I'm wondering if I need to call the Noggin Doc for a tune up.

Anywho...

Bossholio is having surgery on Friday, then he'll be out for at least a week to recover, so his misfortune is a nice little break for me. I didn't bother asking him what kind of surgery he was having, I'm done trying to show the man any compassion or kindness. He obviously doesn't expect it or he'd show a little himself.

I smell the beans cooking, I'd better go check on them. Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

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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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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Of Communes, Citizens Arrests and Follically Related Issues

There is so much to tell. I don't know where to start or which direction to head. Prepare yourself for some chaotic rambling.

Ma is still in "the place." She's getting better every day, better than she's been in years. She says she knows she needed help and is happy to be there, as long as we don't leave her there indefinitely or let them put her outside picking up trash by the side of the road.

Obviously there are still some issues.

One of her doctors called the other day and we discussed things at length, like the past, how long she's been depressed and her inability to distinguish between imagination and reality. The decision was made to keep her there for the maximum allowed (two weeks) to give them the opportunity to adjust her medications and set up some kind of out patient treatment program for her.

If she can spend the end of her life free of the memories that have haunted her all these years, the chaos of recent weeks will have been worth it.

In other news....

My house looks like it's been broken into and ransacked by angry pygmies. T.A. and I both have been so physically and emotionally drained, we both just kinda sit around and stare into space whenever we get the chance. Hopefully we can muster the energy to get some stuff done in the next day or two.

Aunt Moses calls constantly, wanting to talk smack about Ma so she can run all over town and spread her version of the facts. It's all I can do to keep from ripping into her.

But I reckon she can't help it. Her crazy has been showing a lot lately.

According to Thelma, Aunt Moses flagged the town cop down the other day and told him he needed to go chase down a white truck that she said was driving recklessly. When he didn't move fast enough, she hopped in her truck and took off after him herself, causing the town cop (Thelma's Bubbahubby) to have to choose which of them to pull over first. Unfortunately, Aunt Moses was closest... and he'd actually seen her drive recklessly.

Maybe I should start calling her "Aunt Gomer" instead:







Other stuff that's happened in the past week or so that I've not had time to share:

• I was asked to meet the Big Headed German and the Cutie Patootie at a Big City bar last weekend to hear a killer classic rock band, but had to turn it down because of Ma. It's a good thing though, that much temptation mixed with alcohol when I've not had drink nor nookie in years was probably asking for trouble.
• Pupzilla ate one of my good bras
• I finally got mother effin' tires put on my mother effin' truck. Halloweffinlooyah.
• I damn near got in a fight with a racist/homophobe cashier down at the Dollar General in front of a whole store full of people, including Bubbles. I know the people in question are just ignorant assholes and probably don't even have enough effin' sense to realize how offensive they are, but dang I sure wanted to be the one to give them an education. 
• I bought new shoes. I was down to a pair of Sketcher flip flops sandals to wear to work, with snow weather just around the corner, yet I still felt I had to justify spending $30 bucks on some loafers. If said loafers were anything technology related, I probably wouldn't have given it a second thought. Apparently I still have a few issues.
• I've not had my nails done in so long that I may have to register them as lethal weapons. Thank goodness it's almost payday and I have tires. I didn't want to ask T.A. for a ride to the nail salon when she was already having to run me all over the place. 
• Also? The hag hair situation has reached epic proportions. I have to get it cut. Soon. And shave/pluck/wax some things. Or find me a man named Wheat Germ Jim and start my own commune.

I guess that's all for now. I'll try to keep ya'll posted. Hang in there. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!
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It Just Keeps Getting Better

My desk looks like the paper monster barfed all over it. I'd send you a picture of the carnage but Flickr and my Crackberry are having relationship issues.

Maybe I should get them counseling?

After a night of seeing dismembered babies in trash bags, The Amazon was finally able to cajole Ma into going to the E.R. Monday afternoon. I urged her to take her as soon as she got off instead of waiting for me and because I'm STILL waiting for stupid tires, I had to go home after work and let T.A. handle things.

Thank God for her.

Ma was admitted on the verge of kidney failure. She's convinced everyone's trying to hurt her and the last time I checked she was being restrained to stop her from ripping out her IV again. I went to see her last night, but her nurse met me at her door and said, "She is asleep. Please let her sleep."

The nurse looked like she'd been exorcising demons for the past 48 hours.

Ma has a sitter in her room with her, she's being watched because she's repeatedly threatened to kill herself.

Yesterday morning when I called up there, I got a very sweet guy who informed me Ma had experienced severe chest pain when she woke up, had a drop in blood pressure, was given cardiac meds but wasn't out of the woods yet. As I nearly fell out of my chair in the throws of a massive anxiety attack, he said, "I called your brother, he's on his way up here."

"Um.. I don't have a brother," I stated.

"Oh. What's the patient's name again?" So I told him, to which he responded, "Oh my God I am so sorry to scare you like that. Hold on, let me get you her nurse."

That's when I had to take the first half of a batshit crazy emergency pill. I took the other half sometime after Bossholio left to have some tests done. He thinks he had a small stroke over the weekend, so of course he just decided to wait until this week to oh.. I don't know.. SEE A DAMN DOCTOR? It was shortly after he vacated the premises that I called the hospital for an update and learned they had Ma tied down.

I was pretty stoned by the time I left work.

Me and T.A.visited Junior, Thelma's daddy and T.A.'s boss while we were at the hospital last night. We took him his insulin pump to save Thelma a trip up there. It's a long haul to Big City, about an hour to the hospital, depending on how many tractors you get behind or if there are any livestock in the road etc.

You think I'm kidding but seriously, it's like Mayberry on Green Acres crack around here.

I was pretty shaken when we left there, seeing Ma fighting the restraints in her sleep and having the pleasure of talking to Uncle Mullet on the phone, who called while we were there. I'm pretty sure he'll be going on one of his famous seven day drunken binges now.

He's all about the drama and it's all about him.

T.A. bought us TCBY cones on the way home, because that's what us chubby girls do when we have stress. I still had to pop another pill before bed. I said effit and just swallowed a whole one. I finally slept all night, for the first time in over a week.

Anywho... that's the latest. Ya'll have an awesome Humpday. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

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It Just Keeps Getting Better

I don't even know where to begin...

I guess we'll start with Friday. I'd been feeling a little crotchedy, compounded by the fact that EVERYONE either left early or took the whole dang day off from The Asylum, leaving me alone with Jabba the Engineer, whom I love to pieces but isn't worth a hill of beans when I need someone to watch the phones while I go pee or  need rescuing from disgruntled former employees who show up on four-wheelers wielding shot guns and wreaking of bargain basement beer.

Not that I'm paranoid or anything.

Anyway, it was a day of ticked off customers and angry phone calls, the kind of day that makes you want to crawl under your desk, curl up in the fetal position and whistle show tunes.

I was glad to get out of here and start my weekend. I had grand plans to track down some tires for Jolene, get some housework done and piddle around in some clay. At about 2 o'clock Saturday morning, it became apparent that there would be none of that taking place as I assumed the position and proceeded with, as Ma used to put it, "hugging John and screaming for Earl." The pukefest continued until daybreak. By then, I'd given up on going back to bed, setting up camp in the living room, closer to the fore mentioned John.

I can't blame this one on Mr. G. This latest little attack was kicking me much lower in the abdomen, near where about 15 years ago I had 2 feet of intestine ripped out, the result of a grapefruit sized blockage, leaving a scar to rival anything you'll see this Halloween and my navel in a permanent state of winking.

No lie, Ma used to threaten to show my belly to my trashy big boobed cousin with the lazy eye's youngin when she misbehaved.

I know, I know, my sexiness has once again left you in a mind altering fog of awe. Try to fight it. It'll be okay.

Of course, the pukefest is always followed by two days of that other unpleasant intestinal carnival, no longer hugging John, but perching atop him repeatedly.

So yeah. That was my weekend. I slept a lot in between.. ya know.. that other stuff. And? I showed up for work this morning, because I'm an idiot I rock that way.

But wait, there's more!

After I got to work this morning and fixed a cup of hot tea, because coffee just doesn't sound like a good idea right now, I get a text from The Amazon.

"Aunt Moses is going to try to get Nana to go to the hospital or the doctor because her craziness has apparently seeped out of the house."

It seems she's been calling assorted neighbors and family members yelling at them for not inviting her to imagined parties and telling everyone she's lazy.

Great.

That's my life at the moment. Updates to follow.

Later Taters!

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Roller Derby, Decision Making and Pretty Baubles

So, The Amazon has decided that I need to go to the roller derby in Big City this weekend, because between the truck, the trailer and my job at the factory, my life isn't QUITE Jerry Springerlicious enough. I made her promise she'd never make me go to a tractor pull or a monster truck rally before I agreed. We've already made plans to attend some kinda yak hair and beaver fur festival or some crap in October.

I'm not sure how I feel about this sudden urge to mingle with other humans.. in public. Disaster is imminent.

In other news... I've made a decision. Yeah.. I know, alert the media. I've determined that if I put forth as much effort into finding a new job as I do trying to make extra side money, the side money probably wouldn't be necessary. Most people would probably figure this out right away, but let's face it, sometimes I a fry short of a Happy Meal. So.. the search continues, but with a little more urgency.

In other, other news... I've been dabbling a little making some jewelry, earrings mostly. Not to sell, just for myself. Most earrings I buy cause my earlobes to swell, throb, itch and turn flaming red, so I've done without for the most part. I can find "nickel free" but they're either too expensive or not very attractive, so I've been ordering parts off etsy.com and making my own. I'll share pictures soon. I may even incorporate my mad clay squishing skills and my bead wrangling expertise with my newly discovered passion for earring bits and bobs.

At least it keeps me out of trouble.

Well, sorta.

Anywho, ya'll have a helluva Humpday. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Kudzu Jelly

What's a Girl to Do?

You can feel a change in the air around the holler today. I woke up to a cool, crisp morning and I didn't have to threaten, bribe or otherwise cajole Pupzilla to go outside once she got a whiff of the outside air. Of course, next week when I'm off, it's supposed to be back up around 90°, but for now I'll take what I can get.

Bossholio has finally acknowledged that I'm taking off next week. He approved it a month ago, but has made no effort to find out what needs to be done or someone to do it until now.. the Thursday before. He must really think I don't do anything but sit over here with my thumb up my keister all day and while I don't wish for a catastrophe (because I'll just end up having to fix the mess when I get back) I do hope he gets a much needed rude awakening while I'm gone.

Me and The Amazon are hoping to take a day trip on her day off next week. So far, we've pondered:

• Cherokee, specifically Harrah's. More specifically, the bar at Harrah's.
• Digging for emeralds, which sounds awesome in theory, but I'm sure would result in my lying in the bottom of a pit somewhere with a muscle spasm. Writhing in pain, covered in dirt, mud and rocks is so not a good look for me. So maybe not.
• The archeological museum over in Johnson City. For the record, all the digging for bones, rocks and dirt wallering suggestions are actually my idea. I know, you're in awe of my geektardedness. Try to control yourselves.
• There's some kinda freakfest taking place downtown in Big City. I don't really know what it is, I just know there are people on unicycles with lots of piercings and dilated pupils. With juggling. And bellydancing. I think.

Truthfully, I'd be happy just hanging out at the mall, but if you don't have gobs of money to spend, it's not all that exciting. The weather will have a lot to do with our decision. I'm not digging in the dirt if it's 90°.

Anywho, I'm open to suggestions. I need one day to go scooter poopin', the rest of the week will be filled with hauling trash and scrubbing everything in sight. How do ya'll think I should spend a free day with The Amazon next week?

Ya'll take care. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!