5 Favorite Twitter Celebrities

My love for Twitter has ebbed and flowed over the years. When I joined, you didn't "follow" other accounts, there were so few of us, it was just scrolling messages. Over time, celebrities and large companies invaded, Twitter became more commercial and I sort of wandered off, tempted by the wonders of Facebook. I've found myself going back over the past few years.

You'll find Twitter snobs who boast, "I do not follow celebrities," like you can be a social media purist or some chit. Hell, I follow a mess of them and a few follow me back. Below are my favorites and why, because I know you give a rat's patootie:

• Margaret Cho - Hands down my favorite. Posting a lot about acceptance of others, rallying every worthy cause, this edgy comedian is one of the most down-to-earth people, famous or otherwise, that I've met on the web. Also, she started following me when I cracked a joke about having alopecia of the hooha, so there's that.
• Roseanne Barr -  Roseanne's not everyone's cup of tea, but I love following her on Twitter. I don't understand about 90% of the political rants she posts. Pictures of her chubby cheeked grandbabies make it worth it. You'll be happy to know that she's still batchit nutso. Maybe that's why I relate. I'd still vote for her for President before Hillary.
• Carrie Fisher - The queen of the geek movement, Ms. Fisher likes to write all her posts in emojis and pictograms. She makes you work your brain, so see? She's performing a public service. She also posts a lot of pictures of her dog Gary Fisher with his trademark dangling tongue. She "liked" a couple of my tweets, I figure that gives me lifetime geek cred. It takes so little to make me happy.
• Everyone in, associated with and even remotely connected to the CW show Supernatural - Shut up. Don't look at me like that. I don't even really have a good reason. I could make one up, but it's creepy enough that I'm granny aged and hooked on a show aimed towards teenyboppers. 
• Cher - The main thing I've learned about this legend since I started following her is, she has A LOT of pent up anger. And never, ever mention Trump to her. Gawdalmighty. She also loves her some caps.

OH..JUST KEEPS GETTING BETTER.🚽TRUMPS WIFE SAID SHE WROTE HER SPEECH…BUT ITS THE SPEECH MICHELLE OBAMA DELIVERED AT DNC CONVENTION 😂OH GOD😭

— Cher (@cher) July 19, 2016

There are a few I can live without too. I've always been a fan of George Lopez, but when he handed me my ass on Twitter, that did it. He generalized that all white people were voting for Trump and I said something about it. Sorry, that's just as racist as saying all Mexicans stand around outside Home Depot looking for work. Lopez can bite me.

Following your favorite celebs can be tricky. Most of them are so abused and insulted by nutbars on social media, that they're gun shy. You have to approach them slowly, careful not to startle them. They're like a stag on the edge of the forest during hunting season. Some are so jaded, they're constantly on their guard. It only takes 140 characters to lose respect for your favorite artist.

Let me know your favorites in the comments below!

Later Taters!

Ed Bagley Jr. Eats Lady Bars

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Of Yemen, Alyssa Milano and Istanbul

It's rainy and cold in Frog Pond Holler this morning and we're under our first winter storm watch of the season. Today I am thankful for the new tires and my 4x4.

Ma is still at "the place." I talked to one of her docs the other day, a real jerk, and he seemed to think she'd be there for another week or so.

I still haven't cleaned her room. I guess that's how I'll spend my weekend.

Remember the big garden fiasco of last year? Yesterday, T.A. got a visit from the guy who did the initial ground breaking. He said he'd finally gotten a working tiller and wanted permission to come clean up the now ginormous weed patch. There was poke growing in there over six feet tall. Unfortunately, I forgot about the mimosa that had sprouted there, I would have liked to have saved it, but there's more up on the bank. By the time I got home, that big eyesore of a weed patch was gone. I'm debating whether to get out there with the hoe and get some of the rocks out of it before the ground freezes. It'll give me an excuse to look for more archeological treasures like the big quartz scraping tool and pot shards that I already have.

Yes I'm a weirdo. By now you shouldn't be that surprised.

In other news...

I found the PERFECT supplier of earring bits on etsy. I have weird taste and had a hard time finding exactly what I wanted. When I did discover THE shop, I was a little worried because it was in feckin' Istanbul, but I eventually took the leap and ordered a whopping $11 worth of stuff.

Ooooo I like living on the edge.

But then? THEN those feckin' Yemenites or Yemeneese  or whatever decided to try to blow up the U.S. mail like a bunch of jerks. U.S. Customs is probably backed up like a Wisconsin cheese taster. It is taking forever for my crap to get here.  I suspect my little, manila envelope of exotic happy is laying in a pile somewhere or being used as a bomb sniffing dog's new chew toy.

Stupid terrorists.

I can't be hatin' too bad on all of Yemen though. Eddie Izzard was born in Yemen. Betcha didn't know that, did ya?

The worthless information that resides in my brain is endless, people.

In other, other news...

Elections were held Tuesday all over the United States. Honestly, I don't even know who was running for office locally. Here in Hee-Haw County there is already someone screaming about corruption of the polls, the SBI has been notified and there will probably be a recount. The flood of political ads over the past months, the 8 million little cardboard signs littering the road side between here and big city and the ugly accusations and name calling are all just a big carnival side show to me.

I have very little respect for our political system and I did not participate.

If you voted, I assume you researched the candidates and the issues at hand, making an intelligent decision and I applaud you for it. We are lucky to not only have the freedom to chose a candidate in this country, we also enjoy the freedom to remain silent if that's our choice.

For some reason, a few celebrities think their imagined self importance gives THEM the right to insult the American people, simply because their choices differ. On Twitter, @Alyssa_Milano called those who didn't vote a douche and @rainnwilson chose to call those not voting, a dick.

Really? And this is how you use your "celebrity" to make things better? Name calling? What are you.. FIVE?

Get the hell over yourself.

Anywho...

I'm up to my arm pits in new orders.. good news for The Cubicle Asylum, not so good for my blogging. Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

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Eddie Izzard, Fighting the Crazies and Trying Not to Become Homeless

It's cold as crap in the holler this morning and they are all ready muttering about the white stuff by this weekend.

Let the games begin!

I had one of those marathon Saturdays where I try to get a week's worth of running around done in a day. Nail salon, Wally World, hair salon AT Wally World, hospital then back to Wally World again.

If I don't have to set foot back in the World of Wally for a while it'll be okay with me.

In the middle of all that running around, I visited with Ma for a bit. I took her some socks and a few other things. She was using her lack of decent clothes as an excuse to keep from leaving the room and interacting with anyone there. The staff, not Ma, requested we bring her some things so she'd be out of excuses. This has left Ma a little snippy.

I wish I could tell you how she is, but I don't really know. Physically she seems pretty good, although to hear her tell it she's going to drop dead any time now from a mysterious flesh eating disease. She talks nonsense the whole time I'm there, at least now it's imagined gossip about the other patients instead of hallucinations of body parts.

I'm scared to death she'll end up in a nursing home and we'll lose everything we have, which isn't much. The land is in her name, the trailer in both and everyone keeps telling me that if she goes in a nursing home, the state will take it all. I called Legal Aide for advice and they told me to call the Senior Citizens legal aid number because it was an "Elderly Issue." So I did. There I was told that they couldn't advise ME on the situation, only Ma because she was the "Elder" and the land was in her name.

What the hell? So I pay for this damned trailer for the past 15 years and now it's going to be yanked out from under me? The only reason her name is on it, is because we had it refinanced.

I don't know. I've been hitting the "losing my shit" anxiety pills a lot lately.

I've pretty much decided that if that were to happen, I'll take whatever pittance the government will let me have, suck my 401K out of here and run like hell to the coast, where hopefully I'll have enough to put a down payment on a little shack somewhere.

Forget sleep. I toss, turn, flip and flop. Every time I close my eyes and try to relax I remember Ma's pitiful face as she watched me leave the other night, sitting in a dark room with nothing but a chair and a bed. Yeah I know, I sound a tad bit mellow dramatic but it's the truth. I feel like I'm being drawn back to that dark place I was in before I started therapy. I'm fighting it tooth and nail, but sometimes it still washes over me, that doom feeling. If I start to feel like I can't claw my way out of it, I may have to put a call in to the noggin doc.

When I wake up and can't go back to sleep, I've been watching stuff on Netflix on my little netbook. Last night at 2 a.m. I was lying in the dark, cuddled up with the dogs watching Eddie Izzard's "Believe." Ya'll should check it out. It's guaranteed to thwart oncoming anxiety attacks.

Well for me anyway.

For now, I should get to work. Bossholio is gone for the day, as is Lulu. I'm back on the end of the hallway all by myself. I'm going to take advantage of the situation by getting some stuff done.

Ya'll have a good one. Later Taters!!


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Charlie Chaplin's Time Travel Mystery

The footage included in the video above is supposedly extra film taken on set during the shooting of a Charlie Chaplin movie in the 1920's. It's causing a mini stir on the web, due to what appears to be someone strolling by the camera talking on a cellphone.

What do you think?
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Staycations and Mia Farrow Kicks Butt

It's Day One of a Bossman free week at The Asylum. I'm so happy I might just wet myself. A few days before he left, I put in for the week of Labor Day off.

That's right.. a whole week.

When I wrote my long letter in response to the Day of Great Ass Chewing disciplinary meeting, I pointed out that Bossman had asked me to refrain from taking more that a day at a time while we were understaffed, but that he had no problem taking weeks off at a time, on the tail end of his mandatory furlough, leaving me alone in the office for long periods to do both our jobs and I felt that I needed to take some of my well earned vacation.

Dammit.

I think that was one of the things he ended up getting in trouble for. Oh well. Too bad, so sad for him.

So anyway, I've got a whole week off coming up next month. I probably won't go anywhere. I need to make various appointments (dentist, rheumatologist, family doctor and maybe an eye exam. It sucks to get old,) get some housework done and I'd like to do some writing. Maybe I'll sneak in a day trip to Cherokee or Knoxville. We'll see.

I wish I could afford to get far away from the holler for a week, like the trip to Vegas a few years ago or the week I spent in Vancouver.

I'd like to see some folks I'm not related to or at least don't have tobacco juice running down their chin.

In unrelated news...

Did ya'll see where Mia Farrow has taken the stand in the blood diamonds case and called Naomi Campbell a liar?

My hat is off to you Miss Mia. You have the cajones of a bull.  Naomi Campbell is one bad tempered nutnoodle. I hope Mia Farrow has hired extra security to keep her safe from flying cellphones. I'm not even sure I'd trust guards to keep my noggin safe. May I suggest:



That should do it.

Ya'll have an awesometastic week. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

It'll Give You a Happy

Do you need to smile? Do you want to feel a little weepy with happiness over something so sweet it should come with a warning?

It's not about puppies or kittens, no one is snatched from the brink of death, there is no life lesson (well maybe.)

If you were ever a little girl or ever tucked one in at night, if you ever had a fantasy that couldn't possibly come true.. you'll want to read this.

It gave me the warm fuzzies. If you have a heart at all, it will you too. I sat in my cubey and found myself brushing away a tear or two of joy. Joy Unexpected.

You are welcome.

Southern Fried Stings

When The Amazon was away at college, she made some great friends that I know she'll share a lifelong relationship with. Since moving back here to the holler, she's mentions them from time to time, a wistfulness in her voice that makes me think that she misses that big city school just a smidge.

One of her school buds she mentions often is England, the blossoming actress. Over the past few years, she's kept me posted on her latest acting gigs, mostly B horror flicks and indie films. But now? England has made the big time.

Well, sort of.

England is part of "The Jay Team" on TruTv's new show Southern Fried Stings. I hesitate to call it a "reality" show, I'll just let you reserve your own judgement on that.

Doesn't she look hot taking down this perp? It's actually Jay, but still, she looks like she's kickin' bootay to me.

On Southern Fried Stings, the Jay Team is called out when you've got a problem to solve but don't want to involve actual law enforcement.

I think that makes them a vigilante group. I'm a little afraid.

Check them out on Monday nights on TruTv at 10pm and you can say, "Hey! I read the blog of somebody who's kid went to school with that girl!" and people will be impressed with your awesomeness.

I promise.

Later Taters!

Full Figure Lingerie at Fredericks.com

It Tried to Eat me

I'm runnin' on about five hours sleep, so strap yourselves in and hold on tight. We may be in for a bumpy ride.

I'm not feeling too peachy today, not just due to the lack of sleep, but my ankles are like California redwoods, my nose is bleeding (it's allergies.. this fresh mountain air is killing me) Aunt Flo is playing hide and seek, I'm swelled up like like the blue girl from Willie Wonka and my hair looks like goose caca.

Thank God it's Friday.

~ ♥ ~

I got stuck in Ayla's doghouse this morning.  Well.. not stuck.. exactly.

She's not been eating, she's teething and her gums are swollen. They hurt me just to look at them. I ran out of the super squishy chewy puppy food, so she's had to eat the regular crunchy food for a day or two until I can get to Wally World (I'm a bad furbaby mommy) and she's barely eaten. Last night she did the high pitched puppy bark, whined, flipped and flopped in her sleep, I felt so bad for her.

This morning I remembered that I had some canned dog food in the cabinet, a freebie of a high dollar brand I scored with a coupon. I don't feed canned dog food for a variety of reasons, but if I get a free can, I take it.

I carried the canned food out to her doghouse, Sammy and Yoda trailing behind me in hopes that they'd get a taste and reached inside for her bowl. It's a big house T.A. built from a kit for Ozzy, but we lost him before he ever got to try it out. Of course Ayla had pushed the bowl way back in the corner where I couldn't reach, though I tried, already dressed for work and in hopes of not getting dirty.

I had already opened the can, because sometimes I'm not too bright, and Ayla having gotten a big whiff of it, lost her damn fool mind and tried to take me down.

She is not a small dog. Huskies are bred to pull things in sub zero temperatures and Pyrenees are bred to protect flocks of goats and sheep from wolves, bears and like.. nuclear attack and the apocalypse and crap. So yeah.. you can see my dilemma.

Luckily, the doghouse roof opens up, giving easy access to the inside. Once I got my big butt wallered back out of the front, I stood and opened the roof, leaned in and tried to dump the canned food into her bowl. It would have been helpful if it had been loosely packed, stew-like food, but it was not.

A spoon would have been helpful as well.

Using the lid as a make-shift scoop, I dug the firmly packed food from its container, being careful that I didn't lop off a finger or slit my wrist.

I like to live dangerously.

I didn't notice Ayla had moved around behind me. She was overcome with beefy-aroma-induced temporary insanity and lost all sense of judgement, leading her to pounce on my butt, knocking the roof of the doghouse loose, forcing it to close swiftly on my backside, pushing me off balance and damned near face first into the bowl of dog food.

I'm pretty sure I offended every Bible thumping neighbor within a 20 mile radius with the stream of wordy-dirties that spewed forth from my mouth.

But then? I imagined how I must look, my butt hiked up in the air like a cat in heat, my entire upper half seemingly being eaten by the angry house. Then I got the giggles, which further complicated my attempts to escape.

I swear to (insert religious figure or spiritual being of your choice) all three dogs were lined up laughing at me. I'm just thankful Ma didn't happen to peek out the door. She would have called 911 or at least Aunt Moses to come over with her camera.

~ ♥ ~

I reckon I should stop fartin' around on the innerwebs and get to work. Bossman isn't in as chipper a mood as he was earlier this week and I've got crap piled up all over the place. I may work through lunch, it depends on whether I can get a mooburger from the campground store.

Ya'll be sure and stop by this weekend. One of The Amazon's college buddies has made it big as a reality show celebrity! We'll take a look at her new show.

In the meantime, ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!



Show Mom how much you care with fabulous fresh flowers from KaBloom.com

Texting With the Amazon

Since the day The Amazon came home from college in Greensboro, she's been whining like a big ol' baby mentioning how much she misses going to IHOP. The other day, I made the mistake of telling her they were opening one over in the next county, about thirty minutes away, across from the Wally World where we do most of our shopping.

I've since learned that the IHOP isn't opening off in the near future some time, it's this Tuesday. The Amazon was just tad bit too excited about it last night. When I woke up this morning, I reached for my cellphone and this text exchange took place:

Me: IHOP has been cancelled. The whole company is going out of business
TA: LIAR
Me: The pancake batter became infected with the Ebola virus.
TA: STOP BEING A DIRTY LIAR
Me: Cuz terrorists infiltrated the company. All IHOP employees are Al-Qaeda
TA: LALALALALAIMNOTLISTENINGLALALALALALA
TA: STOPITSTOPITSTOPIT
Me: Sylvester Stallone, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Bill Clinton formed a posse of elderly vigilantes and killed them all .... in the night.
Me: There was pancake batter, whipped cream and blood everywhere
TA: YER EBIL
Me: Stallone was blinded when a projectile sausage link was fired straight into his eyeball
TA: NO
Me: It caused a reaction with all the Botox and his face melted
TA: I'm not even playing this game anymore
Me: Stop bothering me, I'm not even up yet
TA: YOU MESSAGED ME
Me: Nuh uh and you wouldn't even KNOW about IHOP if it weren't for me
TA: I know. And I was excited. And now you're trying to ruin it. What's up with that?
Me: It's my job as a parent to shatter your dreams and toy with your emotions
TA: yer just being a dork

Disclaimer: As far as I know, IHOP is not going out of business. I was just messin' with The Amazon. I haven't heard anything involving pancakes and the Ebola virus, please don't contact the CDC or for that matter, me, with your concerns. I can't be held responsible for the entire innerwebs and the occasional goofball who keeps their sense of humor in their sock drawer next to those condoms they'll never use. I don't really think all IHOP employees are Al-Qaeda, I have no knowledge of Al-Qaeda and if you happen to be with the FBI, CIA or some other government agency in hopes of catching some kinda "operative" (I learned that word on NCIS.. isn't Tony hawt?) you've come to the wrong place. I don't really know Sly, The Ahhnold or Bill, nor do I know if they have a secret posse. There was no blood shed (that I'm aware of.) I have no intimate knowledge of Stallone's face and I don't really know if he's had Botox, it just seemed funny at the time. I don't have anything against Sly, I'm sure he's a fine human being. If YOU are Sly and my references to Botox and a sausage melting your face upset you, God I'm sorry. I don't want your face to melt. I'm a nice person, really. If you're disturbed ("you" referring to readers, not Sly, I've moved on, you really should try to keep up,) by my grown child calling me "dirty," "ebil" and a "liar" please note that we also occasionally refer to each other as "ho," not to be confused with "whore" which would result in T.A. digesting her own teeth, right after I go all Sly Stallone on her ass. If you're offended by my use of the word "ass," please note that it's in the Bible and therefore allowed.

So there.

Later Taters!

It Lives

I'm still battling an exotic virus carried by a South American flea on the back of a rare calf purchased by a collector of rare livestock who lives in a secluded holler somewhere near Frog Pond a cold. There ain't no damned sense in this much snot being produced by one human being. I've urged the other people living in my house to contact the CDC but they imply that I'm like.... whining or some chit.

On ya'll's advice, I sent the Amazon after some pseudo Mucinex from the dollar store, but when I opened it, the foil seal had been ripped open and half the pills were gone.

What the hell?? JUST STEAL THE WHOLE DAMNED BOTTLE FOR GAWD'S SAKE! I hate under achieving criminals.

Of course, per my luck, the dollar store was already closed for the evening when I discovered this. I debated whether to take the drugs from the compromised bottle. I mean, if I was gonna die anyway, I might as well take a chance on some guaifenesin laced with LCD or arsenic or like.. goat poop or something.

But I wussed out. The Amazon went back the next day and got another bottle and it's helped alot. That and pseudoephedrine every four hours. My heart might explode, but I'll be able to breathe when it happens.

I got up this morning and staggered to the kitchen to make some coffee and noticed that my house looks like it's been ransacked by a tribe of angry pygmies, performing fertility rituals in the living room floor using feathers, tissues and a collection of plastic bags.

Or the cat's been redecorating again. Oh.. by the way.. the Amazon cleaned out her litter box, removing all the women's magazines. Last night I found a National Geographic stuffed in there. Further evidence of a pygmy invasion.

I've spent alot of time in front of the television, in various states of consciousness. Oh.. I didn't tell you I bought a new t.v. for the bedroom. The old one was used by T.A. in college and had been lugged up and down dorm steps, bounced around in the back of the hippy van up and down I-40 and had finally started to die. I got a wild hair up my butt the other night at Wally World and bought me a little 19 inch flat screen. I couldn't afford it, but I don't care. If it had been for anyone else, I wouldn't have thought twice about it.

I'm worth it. Dammit.

All the extra time in front of the boob tube has made me realize some things..

• Nutri-System has forced me to despise Marie Osmond. I always loved her, crooning along with her versions of "Puppy Love" and "When the Deep Purple Falls" as a child. But now, if I hear "You can have ice cream delivered, RIGHT TO YOUR DOOR!" one more time, I think I'm gonna hurl.. because when she says it, in my head I hear it followed by, "C'mon chubby.. you know you want ICE CREAM." And have you seen the latest commercials? Who does her make-up? West Hollywood prostitutes on some kinda work release program? Here's some advice for ya Marie, three pounds of hair extensions and six layers of spackle and paint does not make you look younger.. just desperate. You're a beautiful women, WASH YO' DAMN FACE!
• The Discovery Heath Channel is the modern version of the circus side show. Step right up and see the six limbed baby! The three foot family! The boy with two heads!! And yes.. those are actual shows that have been on DHC this weekend. Are we that desperate for "entertainment?" Stop the freak show, people. We're supposed to be past that.
• Ya'll know I love animals.. to a fault. I'd save every suffering animal in the world if I could. Just the other day, I rode around town with a baggy full of leftover Spam, trying to kidnap rescue a starving German Shepherd I saw in town. But when those SPCA and Humane Society commercials come on, playing sad music and flashing pictures of abused animals, I change the channel. I understand their motives, but I have issues with their methods of population control. No one wants you? Sorry, you have to die. Why don't you take the funding you receive and set up free spay/neuter clinics? In the long run, I bet it would be more cost effective than what you're doing now. I don't mean "low cost" clinics like they have here, where they load your precious critter in a cage and cram it into a van with 20 others, big angry mutts crammed in crates beside frightened little kittens, being terrorized for the hour trip into Big City, where they're tossed around like livestock then brought back at the end of the day, after surgery and left in their little crates, regardless of outside temperatures, unsupervised and in hopes that "someone" will come pick them up. Um. No. Just because people can't afford the very best care for their animals, doesn't mean they love them any less.

Sorry, this is what happens when my brain is deprived of enough oxygen for long periods of time and I start thinking.

Anywho.. I don't know how I'm going to make it into the Asylum tomorrow, but I'm sure I will. It'll be a snot filled wonderland.

Stay tuned.

Later Taters!

Graveyard Stomping, Car Shopping and not THE Edge

The wind is howling through the valleys and between the mountan peeks this morning in Frog Pond Holler. The air is starting to get that little bite that signals the end to warmer days.

I am so ready.

This weekend thoroughly kicked by bootay. I was off Friday, part of the "Mahala has to use up her vacation hours because she's not giving this company one more damned thing" project. It was spent hauling trash, old tarps, washing machine packaging and plastic bottles to the dump and recycle bins. I also worked diligently to get the kitchen cleaned up, but you can't tell it today.

Friday night the Amazon went to Big City with her friends to celebrate Maddie's birthday. She took with her a Carebears cake she made herself, from a Wiltons teddy bear pan. It came out pretty good.. other than the leg falling off on the way to Maddie's house. After cake and pressie's they headed to Big City to see "New Moon," but called me before even getting out of the holler to report that it seemed one of the wheels was fixin' to fall right off Maddie's car and could they borrow the truck.

Whyyy suuure. It wasn't like I had a hot date or anything.

So they all piled in Jolene and headed to Big City to the fancy new theater on the other side of town with the built in bar to watch the latest vampire flick.

When she got back home, in the wee wee hours, she busted into the living room like a bat out of hell, all excited and saying, "EDGE was totally sitting RIGHT behind us!!!!!"

*blink*

I wanted to share in her excitement, but I didn't have a clue what she was going on about. This "Edge" must be a big shot because she looked like her eyeballs were gonna shoot right out of their sockets and explode, showering the room in tiny rockets of glitter.

So I'm thinking.. that sounds like it could be a DJ or something... then it dawned on me.. The Edge.. sounded familiar. Wait...

Isn't he in U2??  That's when I started to get all sortsa excited too and T.A. was all like, "I KNOW, right????" But what would U2 be doing in Big City? Luckily, just as I was about to ask if Bono was there, she said, "Revis was all like.. "that's not him".. and Maddie was all "the hell it ain't" and then Rickie was all, "check his tatts" and then we took this stealth picture with my cellphone and you can TOTALLY SEE that it's HIM."

I looked at the picture. I didn't have a mutha freakin' clue who we were all in a wad over.

Turns out it's some wrestler dude.. or for ya'll of the southern persuasion "rassler."

Saturday we headed out to Big City again to look at a truck T.A. had seen on the innerwebs. Of course we got there and it had been sold the day before, but she spotted a shiny, red, chromed out Silverado close to her price range and fell in love. The very nice, very non-used car salesman-like gentleman is working on trying to get her financing today.

Keep your fingers crossed.

After making a pit stop at Wally World I got a wild hair up my butt and decided to take T.A. up to the cemetary where Mamaw was buried. She was away at college when she died and we'd talked about it some, so I figured it was as good a time as any. Once I figured out which winding mountain road to take to get there, we didn't have much trouble finding the cemetary. The actual gravesite was another story, but after hiking the hillside in flip flops and damned near killing myself more than once, we finally found the headstone marking Mamaw and Papaw's graves.

As we looked at the marker, I commented to T.A., "I didn't realize how close Papaw's birthday was to yours."

"Yeah, that's kinda cool," she answered.

"Um.. what's today's date?" I asked as I pointed to the carved letters and numbers.

"November 21st." she answered.

"Nooo that's not creepy AT ALL," I said, as I noted that we were standing there on the aniversary of Papaw's death.

Papaw died when I was in like.. the 2nd or 3rd grade.

Anywho..

Most of yesterday was spent trying to recover from the previous day's romp and catching up on some laundry. I think I sort of over did it, I had the achey breaky joints and muscles all day. I tossed some laundry in the new washer,  thinking of how lucky I was that I didn't have to worry about stirring everything up with a stick and how much cleaner everything seemed, then went to my room and stretched out on the bed as I watched the end of the horror movie I'd been missed earlier.

I snoozed for about an hour, feeling like a new person when I woke up. I stretched and walked back to the living room where I found T.A., sprawled out on the couch. She looked up at me and said, "The bathtub went boom."

"Wha?"

"The bathtub.. it went boom, filled up with gunk when the washer drained."

Didn't we just go through this back in the spring?  It's like.. our pipes are haunted. I think I'm going to go to Big City on my day off and head down to the strange part of town and see if I can find some kinda pipe gunk clearing spell I can say over my toilet. Lord knows we've tried everything else.

If you hear of some crazy lady in a small town in NC being commited after she was found passed out naked in the floor of her bathroom gripping unidentifiable herbs, hauntingly eery chanting coming from the cd player and a strong aroma, a mixture of incense and Drano, forming a dark cloud, hovering over her barely conscious body... it's probably me.

Let's kick this Monday in the bootay before it kicks us. Ya'll have a good one, we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Eddie Izzard's Toe and Craving Kibble

In case ya'll were wondering, I didn't die over the weekend. I was up to my eyeballs in HTML and CSS and ImageReady and a bunch of other crap I don't understand. It took me the better part of the weekend to do what it would have taken a trained professional about two hours, but by golly I got 'er done.

I think I'm finally over my head crud.. at least the sinussy-snot churning part. My gums are inflamed again and I'm pretty sure I've got a raging infection on the left side. The last time this happened, I was just getting over a nice little sinus infection too. In the meantime, I learned from the P.A. at Dr. Sexypants office that gum inflamation is just one more goody you get with FMF.

The fun never ends.

I'm not going to bother calling the doc for a prescription, I've already proven that's a waste of time, but I've got almost a whole bottle of leftover Cipro. I'm not going to tell who's ailment it's left over from, but I will say that if I have a sudden urge to lick myself in public or howl at passing sirens, I'll stop taking it.

Welcome to healthcare in America.

Don't look at me like that. I already had to take off last week for Dr. Sexypants, time off I was asked to explain to the powers that be here at the Asylum and I have to leave early tomorrow for my noggin doc appointment. I can just see me telling Bossman I have to leave AGAIN.

My trashy big boobed cousin with the lazy eye sent her youngin over to borrow some crazy pills from Ma over the weekend. She'd let herself run out and all the kinfolk were in a panic that she'd go off batshit crazy and try to run over her New York hubby with the riding lawn mower.

Ya'll think I'm exaggerating.. but this is the same cousin who killed a 4.5 foot long yellow rattler.. throwing rocks at it. She's got a whole 'nother level of crazy goin' on in her attic.

I find it amusing that the whole damn family is now medicated for crazy. They must be handing that stuff out down at the Hee-Haw clinic like Halloween candy.

Back at the trailer, much of the conversation between the Amazon and myself has centered around the state of Eddie Izzard's toe. It's not unusual to hear:

The Amazon: "Is that your phone? Who's texting you?"

Me: "Oh.. must be Eddie. He's on his umpteenthjillion marathon to raise money for the under privledged."

The Amazon: "Still? Any news on the toe?"

Me: "Awwwww.. no.. but look, he's rescued a kitten!"

The Amazon: "But how's the toe? If he's going to share, he needs to keep us informed."

Me: "I'll ask."

Of course.. Eddie has more followers than anyone in the universe, so I'm sure any replies I send are in vain, but a girl has to dream.. right?

I've lost track of which marathon he's on and if I had the money, I'd sponsor him.. but ya'll know I'm a broke mother effer, so I'm asking ya'll to please send the Izzman some sponsorship money because he's running his little legs off. And seriously... he'll probably never be able to stand up again by the time he gets done. Hell, I'm worn out just hearing about it.

And now, because I always bring you the information you just can't get anywhere else, I give you Eddie Izzard's funkified, grossed out, oozy little toe:






Also? Tickets go on sale today for Eddie's mini U.S. tour, Stripped Too. I can't go, but ya'll can! Tell him I sent you. Ask to see his toe. Touch it.. it has magical powers.

And with that I'll get back to work. Bossman is especially pissy today and I'd hate to have to chest punch him with the uber stapler.

Ya'll have a great Monday. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Ozzy, Eddie Izzard and Too Much Drama Llama

There's a cool breeze blowing through the holler this morning and it's even a little nippy here in the office, but I'll never admit that to anyone. I'm so thankful it's Friday. I'm seriously sleep deprived, I need a two day nap fest.

I've been worried about Ozzy. He's wasn't sleeping well, he was having a hard time breathing, seemed congested and wouldn't eat. I fixed him a place in the floor beside the couch, then I slept with one hand on him so I'd know if he started to get up and wander around.

Which he did. Often.

We couldn't get his pain pills in him (that they were as big as Yoda's head didn't help matters) so he was in pain and grumpy. When he would sleep, I'd close my eyes and almost drift off when Ma would come in there and wake me up to tell me, "This dawg's breathin' funny."

Well no shit. Thanks for letting me know.

When I went home for lunch yesterday, he was showing signs of spunkiness. He got up and wandered around the house, visited Ma for a second then decided he wanted to go outside.. right as I was due to come back to work. Sometime yesterday afternoon, he started sneezing and when he did, he must have dislodged a ginormous snot boogie because his nose stopped whistling and he ate like a pig.

Thank God.

Since he could now eat without getting choked, the Amazon was able to drug him by smearing a piece of toast with the crushed pill I'd mixed with some canned Mighty Dog earlier. That was around 8:30 last night. T.A. woke him up for his morning skin goo cleaning, but he went right back to sleep and when I left for work, he was still snoozin' like a drunken sailor.

I think he's gonna make it.

Between Ma, the cat getting fixed, N.Y. hitmen looking for my trashy big boobed cousin with the lazy eye and now Ozzy's ailments, I really need a weekend of staying in, lazing around without kinfolk drama or critter emergencies.

Please.

In the midst of all the chaos over the past week or so, I've been getting updates from Twitter on my phone. I only have updates sent to my phone from one, particular tweeter... Eddie Izzard.

Okay so, I'm a pathetic geektard. I admit it. I'm not ashamed. And I've got the limited text plan, so I can't be getting just ANYONE'S updates.


Anywho... if you're a fan, you might want to check out Eddie Izzard's Twitter Page. He's been running a series of marathons over the past like.. nine days or so and posting updates with pictures and meeting people along the way. It's been loads of fun (or I have no life and I'm easily entertained, not sure which actually) and he's raising money for Comic Relief.

And now, I'd better get my ample hind end in gear. Bossman is being a grumpass (hard to believe, right? That was sarcasm, in case you were wondering.) Ya'll have a great Friday.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Having Babies, Eddie Izzard and Happy Frogs

Great day in the morning! It went from around 60° to like.. EIGHT DEGREES in a 24 hour period.

That ain't right ya'll. Somebody get me Al Gore on the horn. I'm starting to buy his wonky global weather warnings.

We've got alot to cover this morning, so ya'll get your strap on strap yourselves in, grab a cuppa something hot and get comfy.

*taps foot*

Ready? Okay good.

There was some drama in the old trailer this weekend, of the fishy variety. Remember those two mollies I bought last week? My heart grew heavy as I watched them flailing about and repeatedly swimming face first in to the glass. It didn't take a rocket scientist (or marine biologist.. whatever) to figure out that their occasional displays of swimming backwards and upside down weren't evidence of a super talented acrobatic fishy anomaly and that they would, before the weekend was over, end up with a burial in the great Porcelain Sea.

I haven't had any luck with any fish from the Pet Not-So-Smart, other than betas. Granted, it's a long drive from Big City and maybe it's just too much of a shock. I dunno. I don't have the same problems with aquatic critters I get from the shady little pet store, hidden in a back alley in Scary Hillbilly Town. Just sayin'.

Anywho, I kept checking on the mollies, hoping for a miraculous recovery. The frogs seemed fine, swimming around, setting up house in the hallowed out canoe, poking it's fluorescent pink flowers with their little pointy snouts. The five neon tetras I've had forever (bought from the Scary Hillbilly Town store) were fine, swimming around on their little neurotic patrol of the tank.

On one of my many trips to the bedroom to sit on the foot of the bed, staring at the tank, trying to will them back to normal fishy behavior, I saw something new swimming in the tank.

I yelled for the Amazon to being me a bowl, a cup..... SOMETHING because good googedy moogedy there were BABIES swimming around in there! (Okay, one baby.. BUT STILL!)

We caught the tiny fry before he became a froggy buffet and deposited him in the plastic cup. It was so little, it looked like no more than two eyes and a tail. I'm surprised that my feeble old eyeballs even noticed it. I knew it couldn't stay in the cup, the water temperature wouldn't be stable and it would croak for sure. Years ago we had a fry net, the kind you suspend in the tank, but I have no idea where in the sam hill the dang thing went to, so I improvised by using an extra scoopy net, balanced dangerously atop the tank, the net portion hanging down in the water. Of course now, the cover doesn't close all the way so theoretically one of the froggies could plan an escape, but I'm telling myself that they're just so effin' happy with their new home that they wouldn't dare leave.

As we watched the tiny fish swim around, I told the Amazon that it sure seemed bigger when it was swimming around in the tank. We soon realized why.

THERE WAS ANOTHER BABY! A bigger one. With spots, like the mollies. The Amazon, now an expert with the baby scooping, grabbed the new find, depositing it in the net with the first one. It then became very obvious that they could not both be from the same mama. The second fry was twice as big as the first one. Either the molly had one ginormous baby and one very tiny baby or one of the tetras had a secret.

Time will tell.

~*~

I finished up the Christmas shopping Saturday. When I got up, I did NOT want to go to Walmart. I'll spare you the whining and moaning over the variety of ailments that contributed to my lack of enthusiasm, just know that all I really wanted to do was go back to bed. When I got back home, I flipped the boob tube over to a show on Christmas at Disneyland, sat in the bedroom floor with my shiny, penguin wrapping paper and went to wrangling tape, bows and packaging.

I didn't realize how much I'd bought.

When she got home from work, the Amazon was 5 years old again as she carried the wrapped presents in to the living room to set under the tiny tree, shaking, poking and groping each one, trying to figure out what they were.

It made me happy.

~*~

Last night, I settled in on the couch and watched Bedknobs and Broomsticks while I waited for the chicken to finish shaking and baking. A few minutes in to the movie, I realized I had never seen it before. I mean.. I remember it coming out, I would have been around 5 or 6 but apparently I never witnessed the magic of Angela Landsbury, touring London with small children in tow, while poised on a big brass bed.

I demand an entire childhood do-over. I was deprived!

~*~

Speaking of movies, Valkyrie hits the theaters Christmas day. Normally, I wouldn't give a big possum hiney about a war/conspiracy/Hitler movie. I mean... I dunno what you've heard but I am a girl. While my movie interests, like the music I listen to, tend to vary wildly with mood, historical drama doesn't really do anything for me.

And then there's Tom Cruise. Nuff said.

What you may not know about Valkyrie is that the cast includes the fabulous Mr. Izzard, playing the very unfabulous General Erich Fellgiebel.

I doubt I'll be rushing out to see it, because it's still a war movie.. about Hitler.. with Tom Cruise... and the last movie I went to see was Shrek 2. Before that? A hunky guy I met on the internet took me to see Gladiator. So yeah, I pretty much only go to the movies once every five or six years.

But I'm sorta tempted.

Anywho... there's not much to do at the Asylum this week. Bubbles is on vacation today and tomorrow and I'm taking off Friday for FIVE fun-filled days of family togetherness. I'll keep ya'll informed of any casualties.

If you need me, I'll be hanging out on Plurk and Facebook. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

CEOs, Clown Cars and Other Gadgets

Everyone's been running around, spit shining their tape dispensers and hiding the bodies at the Asylum this morning. We're expecting the CEO to grace us with an appearance today. Apparently the sales manager over at the other plant got the axe last week and Mr. CEO is coming down to welcome her replacement.

Bubbles is all decked out in a polka dotted granny dress and clod hoppers. I figure, I bothered to rub some Secret on my pits and wrangle the girls in to a half way decent bra... Mr. CEO should be thankful.

~*~

I got a new toy for myself yesterday. We'll call it an early Christmas/Birthday pressie. I've been drooling over keeping an eye on the smartphones offered on Verizon for about a month, since my contract came up for renewal. I've been hoping to do away with the bulky Daytimer I lug around everywhere (which.. let's be honest... is simply my justification for a new techno toy.) I looked at Blackberries but I refused to pay for extra service. I finally settled on the Palm Centro, but couldn't justify spending money on a new phone so I decided to hold out until I could get one for free.

I had almost given up hope.. then.. Friday it happened. With the $50 credit you get towards a phone upgrade every two years and a $70 rebate.. it was free. I jumped all over it. Then.. I got free next day shipping. I paid $74 but I get $70 back, so the cost to me was a grand total of $4 (tax, etc.)

Coolness!

~*~

In other news.. I won this from Joy over at A Spot of T. There was much giddiness and excitement as I sat at my desk, trying to act like I wasn't fixin' to explode with happiness.

I still may.

~*~

Yesterday at the Asylum, we weren't allowed to enter any orders (first day of the month, don'tcha know) and when left to my own devices, I can get in all sorts of trouble. During the downtime I decided I needed a Facebook account, so I registered and played around with it for most of the afternoon. Okay... honestly? I decided I had to have one because while cyber celebu-stalking checking out Eddie Izzard's website, I saw a link to his Facebook... so yeah.. I know it's pathetic.. whatever.. bite me.

If you're on Facebook, click here to add me.. if you want.

When I shared my new Facebook profile with the fine folks on Plurk, somehow the thread turned in to a discussion on clown porn and the similarities between the vajayjay and a clown car, proving that when I'm bored, bad things can happen.

~*~

I guess that's all the news from here in Frog Pond Holler worth telling for this Hump Day. Let's hump it like a camel jockey!

Later Taters!

Eddie Izzard & Graham Norton: When Baboons Attack

After about an hour of walking around looking at crafts and being screamed at from across the fairgrounds by greasy, snaggle toothed carnies the Amazon and I got bored at the big Hee-Haw county fair. By the time Preacher Bob jumped in front of me for the third time, trying to save my soul, waving his pretty little pink copies of the New Testament in my face, I'd decided I needed to get home anyway.

County fair or not, Eddie Izzard was going to be on The Graham Norton Show at ten and I needed to get situated in front of the boob tube.

I have my priorities.

Of course it was hilarious.. with Izzard and Norton (and Harry Shearer) how could it be anything else? Somehow though.. the conversation turned to the evilness of baboons. Apparently Norton witnessed some sort of chaotic picnic lunch devastation by a wild baboon while vacationing amongst the wild things (Dude.. seriously? Next time.. just go to Miami.. or come back to Dollywood, we'll do lunch.)

When a disagreement erupted between Izzard and Norton over whether or not baboons were consciously, deceptively evil or perhaps, simply wanting a nice picnic lunch, the Amazon and I both laughed so hard we had tears streaming down our cheeks.

You see, the Amazon and I often have the same argument. It all stemmed from an incident at the zoo, one I wrote about a couple of years ago on my old blog.

Here's a re-post of the incident:

"Tuesday, March 08, 2005

The Girl Child and the Angry Baboon

I took a vacation day Friday to go gather the Girl Child from college. I left early Friday morning, picked her up around noonish and took a side trip to the zoo. Anyone who's read my posts in the past understands that I'm a critter freak. I love zoos, I even worked as a volunteer at the zoo back home when I was thirteen. I guess I should make myself clear, I don't love all zoos. There are some pretty crappy ones out there, especially the roadside monstrosities with big animals in tiny cages pacing and panting. I have a problem with circus' as well, I stopped going to them years ago.

Sorry, didn't mean to go off on an animal rights rant. Back to the story.

The Girl Child and I started off in the "North America" exhibit, making a bee line for the polar bears. Seems we got there just in time for their afternoon nap, huge hairy critters sprawled out on rocks looking like a bunch of frat brothers on the morning after an endless night of chemically altering their consciousness and assorted acrobatic mating rituals.

We moved on to the other exhibits, which were spaced kinda far apart. The African section of the park was really nice. There was this huge dome.. thing, that you walked through which had inside and outside areas for some of the animals on display. Most of the baboons had gone inside where it was warmer and there was a sort of deck area outside where you could get a much better view. The Girl Child and I ventured outside away from the small crowd and watched the baboon "children" rough housing and pushing each other off of rocks and trying to get their mother to put the baby down and pay attention to them instead. Every once in a while the big male baboon would run over and try to establish order over the youngsters, mostly ignored, kinda like human parents.

At one point the big male looked over at us standing on the deck and came bounding over towards us. He sat down close to the glass right in front of the Girl Child. We were like.. awwwww.. a Jane Goodall moment!! She sat down on the deck in front of him and he reached forward and grabbed his toes and rocked back and forth on his lil baboon butt.. lookin' all cute. Then he pushed his nose against the glass and made faces at her, it was so cool.

I was half expecting him to start doin' something perverted, because it's been my experience that all male primates seem to do that if you get too close.. again.. much like humans.

Then.. suddenly..he jumps up making that psycho-rabid "I'm gonna eat your eyeballs" kinda face...smackin' the shit out of the glass, screeching like the soundtrack of a bad Tarzan remake. I do believe the Girl Child came closer to crapping her pants than she has since her Pampers days. Of course, all of the zoo patrons inside the dome thingie watching us, were pointing and laughing hysterically. I was laughing pretty hard myself.

I should make the Girl Child a nice t-shirt with a baboon on the front. Or a pillow for her bed.. yeah that's it. I'm so not going to let her live this one down."

And.. I haven't. She still gets this look of sheer terror on her face whenever someone mentions baboons.. the exact same look Graham Norton had as he told the tale of his primate encounter.

Personally I think the poor things are just misunderstood and appreciate a nice picnic.

I hope ya'll are enjoying your weekend. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Sizzling Sausage, Stalkers and Rottweilers

It's pouring the rain in the holler this morning, which is fine with me, but probably a little disappointing to all the tourists wandering around town. I've already had to venture out to the dollar store. I ran out of coffee yesterday and was too damn lazy to get off my duff and go get more forgot to go out for more. Since I was out anyway, I picked up some stuff for breakfast.. erm.. I mean brunch I guess, which is sizzling away in the pan as we speak. With my new schedule, there seem to be more days that all three of us are home in the mornings, resulting in more hot breakfasts.

My waistline will suffer.

Ma cornered me first thing this morning, she wanted me to take her to Scary Hillbilly Town for granny panty shopping.

Wal-Mart on July 4th weekend?

I am so not in the mood for a hillbilly mob scene, thankyouverymuch.

Thank goodness she'd talked herself out of it by the time I got back from town. Bless her heart, she needs to get out of the house and I know it would do her a world of good, but her timing isn't great. Maybe I can waller her up in the truck later and go for a ride around town. She has yet to know the pleasures of Jolene (the truck.) I'm still not sure I can get her up in the cab. I have a feeling that will be a story unto itself.

I celebrated the birth of our nation last night watching Craig Ferguson, some big city fireworks and the Boston Pops. It never fails, my life can be going to hell in a handbasket, at warp speed, then I can sit down in front of the boob tube and watch the Fergburger and within minutes I'm grinning like someone who only gets down off the mountain twice a year and is her own cousin twice removed.

Ferguson's appearance triggered a wave of hits here at Hidden Mahala, all searches for "craig ferguson girlfriend." It's sort of creepy, 9 out of 10 of those hits are always from the L.A. area. Last night they were split between the L.A. area and around Boston. It makes my stalker-radar go all tingly when I see that. It's one thing if some Tupelo cat lady is Googling out of curiosity, it's another thing entirely when it's in your own back yard.

I once got hits on that same subject, using the L.A. office of the Writer's Guild of America's servers. Weird.

If I were a celebrity (don't laugh so loud.. I have feelings!) I'd be paranoid as hell. Nineteen rottweilers, a moat filled with piranhas and a twelve foot fence, topped with barbed wire. My inner Martha Stewart would force me to grow a flowering vine over the barbed wire, but by gollyjebus it would be there.

Anywho, laundry is calling my name and it just dawned on me that I didn't pick up toilet paper or dishwasher detergent on my early morning dollar store run. I guess I'll walk back up there in a bit, if it stops raining.

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

Later Taters!

Not Really Even a Post

I'm getting a late start posting today and I don't really have a topic, so let's just toss it in the air and see where it lands, kay?

Have ya'll ever tried to apply eyeliner when your allergies were kicking your hind end to kingdom come? My eyes are red, swollen and all runny and icky. That's pure sex appeal right there. I look like I smoked a huge doobie before I came to work.

Where is kingdom come anyway? What does it mean? Do ya'll know?

There's a new video of Tom Cruise circulating the interwebs. I'm sorry, that dude's got a serious case of the crazy eye. I know he speaks out against psychiatric medications, but he looks like he could use a dose or six if you ask me. Not that you did.. or that my opinion matters in any way.. I'm just sayin'.

We got our snow here this morning, but it ended up like most of my dates...

*The size of the event was grossly overestimated

*The "snow" was more of a limp, damp mess

*After a lot of exciting promises, I still ended up disappointed

Anywho, here's hoping some exciting, earth shattering and delicious event worthy of blog fodder occurs before the end of the day.

See ya'll then.

Britney Spears Taken to Hospital

Do ya'll remember a few months back when I defended Britney Spears? How I said the press was being unfair to her and needed to lay off?

Can I take it back?

TMZ is reporting that last night, after refusing to turn her boys over to K-Fed's bodyguards after her scheduled visitation (that's Kevin Federline, her ex-husband, also sometimes referred to as "Fed-Ex"), law enforcement arrived to find Britney Spears under the influence of "an unknown substance." She and her youngest son, Jayden James, were transported by ambulance to a local hospital. Britney was photographed smiling like the clueless wonder that she is as the paramedics strapped her in for the ride.

Both boys are now in the custody of their father and Britney Spears is being held for "evaluation."

I can't help but wonder if Britney was feeling a little left out after news that her sixteen year old sister, Jamie Lynn Spears, star of Nickelodeons's "Zoey 101," was pregnant hit the newstands. The story of Jamie Lynn's pregnancy, by the way, was sold to the highest bidder (OK! Magazine) by her own mother, Lynn Spears. The deal included OK! Magazine having rights to the first published pictures of the baby when it's born.

Lynn Spears seriously needs to stop pimping her girls out like street hookers. Surprisingly (not!)her new parenting book was put on hold by publishers.

Oh and since we're on the subject, don't you love how all these other pseudo celebs and politicians jump on the bandwagon, giving an opinion on whether "Spears the younger" should keep her baby, like it's any of their flippen business, just so they can pimp their own book and get on the boob tube? What the hell is Blair from "The Facts of Life" (Lisa Welchel) doing on Good Morning America talking about that poor youngin's pregnancy?

That's just creepy ya'll. I'd change my name and move to like.. Budapest or some shit, have my kid and raise it to be a sheep herder.

I'll return for my regularly scheduled post after coffee.