Craig Ferguson: The Rest Of The Story

Over the years, I've shared just about every detail of my life on Hidden Mahala. I've even been accused of over sharing on occasion, but as you know, that hasn't stopped me. However, there have been times when I've had to sanitize my posts to protect myself from the prying eyes of The Holler folk.. and to fulfill promises I've made to other individuals involved.

This post is about one of those times. 

Most of ya'll remember the Fergburger days, when I wrote some funny ass posts about stalking Craig Ferguson. I imagine, some of you even got sick of reading his name.. but I was getting a shit ton of page views as a result and it became sort of addictive. 

I use Statcounter here, an awesome tool if you're interested in where your traffic comes from (not an affiliate link, I just happen to love the product, and it's free!) Statcounter gives you details about where your traffic comes from, search words that were used and ip addresses. Usually, I just use it to make sure I still have traffic, but back in 2006, it came in handy when I began getting a lot of traffic from CBS in Los Angeles.

Eventually, all those goofy posts lead to my receiving this email:

You can click to embiggen, then use zoom in your browser. It may be easier to read.

After I read the email.. and changed my drawers because.. Good Gawd.. I called Roxie for a 10 minute pep talk. Once I got my anxiety ridden head together, this was before meds, I called Michael Naidus at CBS.

That's right. I picked up the phone and dialed up CBS studios just like I thought I was somebody.

The conversation was a bit weird.

First of all, this dude didn't seem to know the first thing about where I was from, what my blog was called or anything about me. If he'd been responsible for all that traffic from their offices, he would have at least had some basic knowledge about what I had written.

You would think, wouldn't you?

Another odd bit, I never said I was planning a visit to Las Vegas. I just said I'd love to be able to see Ferguson there. This all took place on my old blog, the one I had to delete because I stupidly shared it with Bubbles, who then distributed it to all EMS employees in the county.

Also, it just so happened that the post I'd written that morning was about TA and I taking a drive through Maggie Valley. During the conversation, this guy asked me where I lived. When I told him, he asked what it was near, so I explained how far it was to Big City, etc. Then he was all... "Is that anywhere near Maggie Valley? I was just there on vacation, we took a long drive through Cherokee.."

I'm sorry, but did his email not say he'd just read my blog? It was a huge coinkidink, if you believe in coinkidinks, seemingly happening to show me that this man was lying.

The Universe works in mysterious ways.

Throughout the conversation, during which I'll admit I was terminally starstruck, he asked how much I'd traveled, advised me on rental cars and shuttles, assured me that The Orleans was a safe hotel, and continued to coddle the country bumpkin he thought he was talking to. He also advised me that I couldn't mention it to anyone, because they didn't want a bunch of bloggers calling them for tickets.

Obviously, I no longer give two shits.

Before I continue, I feel the need to explain a few things. When I was contacted by the producer, I was extremely excited. Excited to the point that I drove Lulu crazy for weeks with "what ifs." I honestly thought this all had something to do with my writing. Maybe this was going to be like one of those rags to riches stories and I was fixin' to move to L.A. to write for television.

My need to get away from Ma and The Holler was intense at that time.

Sure, I was an idiot, with my pie in the sky assumptions, but never.. and I mean NEVER, did I ever think this was going to be some kind of booty call. I am a cosmetically challenged heifer, always have been, always will be, and by no stretch of the imagination did I ever think that I was going to show up at The Orleans and wow any Hollywood comedian into wanting a slice of my ample booty.

Sometime between receiving the email and going to Vegas, I bought Ferguson's book. This was about a month after my conversation with Naidus. I sent him email and asked if there would be any way possible to have my copy autographed. I had even suggested that perhaps I could leave it with a member of Ferguson's staff, then pick it up later. When he responded, he said, "I don't see any way that's going to happen," or something to that effect. I don't remember the exact phrase, but I do remember that it sounded kind of pissy.

Imagine my surprise when I walked through the lobby of The Orleans that weekend and saw a giant poster, advertising the BOOK SIGNING after the show.

From start to finish, this whole situation was full of WTFs.

Most of what I wrote about my trip to Vegas was true. The only difference, I think, being the experience at the ticket counter. There was no record of my name anywhere. After that long conversation with the producer, giving him all my information and remember, HE emailed ME, it wasn't like I was trying to get something for nothing, after my putting my one credit card on life support to get there and thinking my life was somehow going to change... nothing. The kid at the desk even compared me to a crazed Donny Osmond fan who'd tried to repeatedly sneak into one of his performances.

One of the managers left the office, then returned and asked for my driver's license. Now, my driver's license picture looked like Mama Cass with a hangover after a partying for three days. The LAST thing I wanted to do was hand it over to someone, other than a traffic cop. But I gave it to him and he wandered off with it. I imagined the Fergburger standing back there with his PA and Gawd knows who else, laughing their asses off over my ugly mug.

I wanted to give up, but I'd come all that way... and as Ferguson used to say, when opportunities arise, "Always show up."

The manager eventually returned and acted like he was doing me a favor by giving me a seat. Hell the theater was barely half full.

What a clusterfuck that weekend was.

Obviously the email had nothing to do with a future writing opportunity. I'm still not absolutely sure what the hell it was all about.

But whatever. We live and learn. It made for a great story.,

The blog hits kept coming, but I couldn't help being a little pissed off. I mean.. I can take a lot. Growing up the fat kid, you develop a thick skin. But if you embarrass me? I will smite you with the evil eye of a thousand Gypsy ancestors.

After that, I did become obsessed. Now, before I go any further, I know what I'm about to tell you sounds like crazy talk. It's actually a well known symptom of mental illness. I think the reason I WAS so obsessive was more to convince myself that I wasn't crazy, than to convince anyone else.

Okay, I am a nutbar, but not THAT flavor of crazy.

I knew that someone, presumably Ferguson, was reading my blog posts. I knew, because aside from the blog stats, if I mentioned granny panties in a post, he mentioned them in his monologue. Okay, not only granny panties, there were things repeated all the time, to the point that I started making TA read my blog and watch my taping of the show. I also drug one of my old chat buddies in to it, sending her screen shots of the Statcounter logs. She was a webmaster by profession, and helped me dig even deeper into the addresses.

I hadn't gone so deep, internet stalking someone, since the Lyin' Assed Canadian pissed me off.. and I haven't since.

Don't anger the fat chick. We have a whole 'nother level of crazy.

I don't have the actual screen shots of the stats anymore, they're saved on my old computer, but I do have the spreadsheets I created to sort the information. Following are links to them on Google Docs.

Statcounter Los Angeles 3/2006 through 10/15/206

Statcounter Los Angeles IP Sort 

Take a look, if you care about such things, and keep in mind the following tidbits:

Hits from CBS studios are from the office.
Hits from someone's home came from ID Rback30d.irvnca 
Ferguson, at the time, had a Mac computer.
While Ferguson was on vacation in Scotland, I received hits from Dundee.

There are a lot more details, but dang, that's enough for now.

So yeah, there was a lot of weird crap going on behind the scenes of that whole story. Crap I was DYING to write about.

Anywho... ya'll can draw your own conclusions. Let me know what you think. We'll talk again real soon.

Regards,

Shy Little Panda

It's Lip Smackin' Good!

Lawsy. It's only mid-morning and I've already threatened to wrap chewing gum around Bubble's head and suffocate her with it.

Seriously? How does one mature grow to be her age and not learn to feckin' chew gum without smacking one's lips like a downtown street hooker?

(I mean no disrespect to any of my readers who may be practitioners of "the world's oldest profession." I know times are hard ya'll.)

Anyhooter.. so last night I decided to cook a package of chicken tenders, which are actually the squishy parts of the tattas.. I think.. but I'm not 100% positive. They were on sale for $1.98 a pound, so I got two packages.

A real deal, right?

Well.. I tossed them in the micronuker to thaw out, then began the process of separating the mystery chicken fleshy bits and tossing them in to the frying pan, which was lightly greased with some newfangled "healthy" oil, containing Omega somethings.. hell.. it was on sale and I had a coupon. It was cheap.

While positioning them in the pan, I noticed a strange, white doololly hanging off one of the pieces of meat. Upon closer examination, I determined it to be a large, veiny type thing. Maybe an artery. It was pretty substantial in size, when compared to the meat it was growing out of.

I fought the urge to heave.

Don't look at me like that. I know chicken meat comes from actual live, clucking, bug eating chickens. I know they're unkindly butchered in bulk and sent to the grocer's shelves so that we have food to eat.

Regardless of what Craig Ferguson thinks, I can assure you that I'm not a moron.

I just don't like to see the inner workings of the poor beast's circulatory system as I'm getting ready to ingest the previously mentioned mystery chicken bits.

I took my kitchen scissors and wrestled the offending piece of meat out of the frying pan and cut the white, vesselly bit off. It was then that I noticed that they all had a big hunk o' vein hanging out of them.

Oh. My. Gawd. The Ew.

I ended up having to perform minor surgery on every little piece of meat. I'm sorry but.. that's just nasty. Now I have another whole package of the same thing sitting in my freezer. I have a feeling it's going to be there a while.

Moving on...

Ya'll know I love you right? So I can say this without squishing anyone's feelings. Please, for the love of Pete, stop sending me your politically charged emails. I don't read them. I'm not interested in which candidate is the Anti-Christ nor do I give a flying squirrel's booty which farm animal is sporting Mary Kay Lipstick in Cherry Jubilee. I'm practicing my right as an American to finish out this election season with my head firmly planted under a rock until it is over... figuratively speaking of course. It would be hard to type if my actual head were stuck under an actual rock.

I do have political opinions, but I know ya'll come here for my sad attempts at comedy, the stories about my trashy, big-boobed cousin with the lazy eye and the numerous ways I'd like to use a spork to torture Bubbles, my cube neighbor. According to the latest polls, sharing my views isn't going to accomplish anything other than pissing off at least half of the general population, so around here, we're going to stick to business as usual.

Kay thanks.

Now then, I reckon I should get back to work and see if I can put a big ol' smile on Bossman's face with a huge sale. In case you were wondering, that will be the only way I'll try to make him smile.. gitcher mind out of the gutter.

Every tick of the clock, we're a tiny bit closer to the weekend. Ya'll hang in there.

Later Taters!

P.S. I almost forgot! Imagekind is having a sale. Save 20% on Custom Framing through September 23rd. Use Promo Code "FALL2008". You can have a Mahala original at a discount price, just in time for Christmas. (That was like.. the cheesiest attempt at self promotion I've done in a while. I should get an award or something.)

Melons, Missing Tourists and Eddie Izzard

I am fairly certain that the words "good googedy moogedy" were first uttered by the lucky bastard who first experienced the taste of the sweet, red flesh of a summer watermelon, as he wiped the sticky, wet nector trickling down his chin, his eyes rolling back in his head in pure, culinary ecstasy.


~*~

It's been busy around Frog Pond Holler this weekend. The police scanner was screeching with news of a bad accident on the other side of town late Friday night, involving the newspaper delivery woman's daugther. It's been hard to find out exactly what happened, but I know there were two ambulances and a helicopter involved.

I didn't get a paper this morning either, but I think I'll just shut up about it this time and say a little prayer for whoever was hurt in the accident.

Last night up on Fall Branch, someone jumped in the swimmin' hole hurting their back and before the ambulance could even get to them, there was another call in the same area for a missing person. Search parties are still out this morning on four wheelers and foot, searching the woods for some poor tourist or hiker who wandered too far off the trail.

The area where they're searching is way back up in the hills, the same area where a woman was bitten by rattlesnakes four different times in one summer while working out in her yard.

This morning I am thankful to not be on the VFD anymore.

Moving on...

Me and Mr. G seem to have reached an agreement. I've not heard a peep out of him in days. Hopefully I can postpone any radical eviction until after the first of the year when I'll have three weeks of vacation to play with.

Anywho.. I think I'll go jump in the shower before the Amazon gets home from work, then aside from a few small domestic tasks, I intend to spend the rest of the day working on some designs and taking it easy.

Before I go, Tiff didn't have the pleasure of seeing my two favorite men together, Eddie Izzard and Craig Ferguson, on one stage, when this originally aired and I knew it would show up on YouTube eventually...





And Part 2




*sigh*

Ya'll enjoy your weekend. I'm sure we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Mooburgers, Acid Trips and Eddie Izzard

It's a muggy, sticky day here in the holler and the air conditioner is only sorta working at the Cubicle Asylum, but I've got "She Sells Sanctuary" by The Cult playing through my earbuds and I'm off the next four days.

It's all good. Or at least.. it will be.

It was hectic around the office yesterday. Bossman had an impending gloom and doom meeting with Bubbles and I, which lead to my spouting off about our website and why we're spending over 40k yearly for advertising in magazines that no one reads when we do NOTHING to improve the SEO, alot of which could be accomplished for free. This lead to Bossman and I reviewing the proposal sent over by our web host. Apparently they've been sitting on this since the first of the year, being all wishy washy about spending the money... a mere fraction of what we're paying for the print ads.

Hello?

By the time 5 o'clock rolled around, I'd convinced him that paying all that money for print ads in magazines read by our competitors and not potential customers was.. well.. stupid.. and that we needed to be reaching potential new customers through that weird and wacky invention.. the innerwebs.

People amaze me.

Anywho, so by the time I got home I had a headache, I was cranky and I just wanted to close my eyes.. which I did. I woke up just long enough to toss some mooburgers on the mini George Foreman, managing to let the convoluted thing slam shut on my hand.. not a wise move by the way.. and got everyone fed.

It's hard being the sales ninja by day, the hunter-gatherer-chief cook and bottle washer by night, internet entrepreneur on weekends and webtastic social ladder climber in my spare time.

And remain fabulous in the process.

Moving on...

So.. Eddie Izzard and Craig Ferguson almost made me late for work this morning. No, no, no.. we weren't engaged in a wild, mattress romping menage a trois at the butt crack of dawn here in Frog Pond Holler. Gitcher minds out of the gutter.

Dang ya'll.

To begin with, I got up a tad bit later than usual, leaving less time for my morning unwind with coffee and the Fergburger. Then, when the fabulous Eddie entered the studio.. my concept of time.. the universe and reality as a whole came to a crashing halt.. leaving me staring at the boob tube, entranced like a wild eyed hippy on an awesome acid trip. Luckily the Chihuahuaranian had a sudden, urgent need to run wild through the back acre, depositing his boy dog scent on each and every blade of grass in existence. His shrill yapping as he demanded that the back door be opened snapped me out of my idiot trance, bringing me crashing back to reality and ensuring that I would still make it to work on time.

I'll have to watch the rest when I go home at lunch.

If you're in the L.A. area, Eddie Izzard will be appearing through August 9th. Just sayin'.

For now.. there's a ginormous sized stack of filled orders calling my name. I think I'll go zone out in the file room. If you happen to be going down the hall and hear a quiet voice singing the ABC song.. it's just me..

Ya'll have a good one!

Later Taters.

Job Cuts, Snakes and Eddie Izzard

It's quiet around the cubicle asylum this morning. The rumor mill has run amok with claims that during the CEO's visit last week, he informed our GM that he needed to "get rid of whoever you need to. I want this plant back on five days."

*Gulp*

It is assumed that the decision will be made per department as it has been in the past. We think Thelma, Lulu and myself are safe. We have seniority in each of our departments. If that's how the game is going to be played, then Bubbles and Louise will be the ones to be let go. But you can never be too sure about these things, we've been wrong before.

Ya'll keep your fingers crossed for me. I'll keep you posted.

Moving on...

The other day, as I was totally NOT exhibiting stalker-like behavior, I noticed that Eddie Izzard was going to be in Los Angeles this week. I had high hopes that this meant he'd be Craig Ferguson's guest on The Late Late Show and low and behold... I was right! Himself will be on with the Fergburger this Wednesday night, so ya'll make a pot of coffee and tune in or set your Tivo. You won't want to miss it.

Speaking of Craig Ferguson.. Snake Week? Seriously? Dude, I tremble in fear of stepping on those slithery little critters every time I step off my front porch. I REALLY don't need to see you stroking your big rubber buddy first thing in the morning. I once hurled an econo-sized package of feminine hygiene products down the pet food aisle at the grocery store, nearly grazing a little old lady in a scooter chair, all because some smart-assed little punk thought it would be fun to leave a rubber snake in the floor.

So yeah.. if you love me you'll chill with the rubber snakes.

I'm just sayin'.

Anywho.. I have a feelin' it's going to be a scary week here at the Asylum as we all wait for the axe to fall. I'm sure I'll survive.. whether I'll still have a job when it's over is yet to be seen.

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

Later Taters!

Update - The latest is that there will be no changes in the office. All layoffs will be out on the plant floor. I'm safe. Hallee-freakin-LOO-YA.

Scotts and Brits and Bears.. Oh My!

Did ya'll know that if you're out of your office for three days, chit will be piled to the ceiling when you get back?

There used to be a desk up under here somewhere.

Bossman scooted out an hour early and any ideas I had about getting caught up today went right behind him.. so screw it.

Before we dive in to the latest, greatest news around Frog Pond Holler and the Cubicle Asylum, allow me to take a minute to let ya'll in on some entertainment news. In the past I've said I'd never go to Vegas in July again... but I'd love to be there this week. If you're going to be anywhere near Sin City, Craig Ferguson will be appearing at the MGM Grand through Wednesday, July 30th. As usual, the CBS website is BORKED, showing the ticket availability date as "TBA" (to be announced) when he actually began appearing there LAST NIGHT. I seriously think the guy who is responsible for keeping the website up to date is a slacker, or some female intern with a crush on Mr. Fergalicious and a jealous streak. It's always screwed up.

"But Mahala, you've seen the Fergburger in Vegas before, what's so exciting about that?" I hear you ask.

Well, not only is the extremely masculine Craig Ferguson, with gonads the size of Texas, appearing in Las Vegas, but the eternally fabulous Eddie Izzard is appearing at the Pearl Theater tonight and Saturday night.

Oh what I wouldn't give to be there this weekend. I would spontaneously combust from sheer excitement.

*sigh*

Anywho.. moving on..

Today got off to a rocky start. Coming in at 7 a.m. for the past three days really threw me off. You would have thought I'd have no problem at all getting here at 8.

Of course, you would be mistaken.

I got up at 7:27. I managed to take a shower, blow dry my hair, apply minimal war paint, make coffee, stop at the atm, buy a biscuit and get to work at 8:03. I didn't look fabulous, but by golly I was here, dangerously close to being on time.

I am that good.

I never did really wake up. I'm still sort of moving on auto pilot. By noon, the shipping bitch clerk had given me a new nickname: Special Ed. I didn't argue with her.

Apparently it's genetic, because when I went home at lunch, I found the Amazon there. She should have been at work.. I thought. Apparently she showed up, gung ho and ready to face the day, on her day off.

That's my kid.

On a totally unrelated subject, Ozzy, our newfie/mutt/supposed wolf hybrid mix (think large, hairy and lovable) has been barking alot at night. This is completely uncharacteristic of him, I figured there must be a female somewhere nearby, giving off her amorous aromas, getting him all freaked out. Then this afternoon, one of the guys out in the plant, who also happens to be my neighbor.. as the crow flies.. said he'd seen two bear cubs wandering through his yard yesterday, just on the edge of the woods.

Now I wonder if that's what has Ozzy all excited. I mean.. a girly dog living nearby would have him barking all the time.. not just at night. A bear on the other hand, waiting until after dark to venture closer to the houses, would.

I'll be keeping my camera close at hand.. just in case. I would love to see a bear.. outside.. from a distance. Not like.. on my front porch, raiding my bird feeders and peeking in the window at me.

There was another bear sighting in town about a week ago, but that one was spotted by poor old Charlie, who's been legally blind for at least 20 years. Even he said he wasn't sure if it was a dog or a bear until he saw it climbing up the neighbor's apple tree.

Ah well. It's about time to head home. I'm looking forward to three fun-filled days around the trailer. Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

Kittywampus Schedules and Craig Ferguson, The Manly Man

One more meeting, then this week long exercise in bullshit productivity improvement will be over. I want ya'll to know that I can not WAIT for that moment. My schedule is all to hell. Getting up at 6:30 a.m. tomorrow will feel like sleeping in. I've been getting home at 3:30 in the afternoons, but considering my near coma-like level of consciousness, it's not really a bonus.

Adding insult to injury, I have had to look at myself on video. The cringe factor of such a display is enough to make me want to gouge my eyes out with a plastic spork. Oh yes.. and the still photos of yours truly, with hair in various stages of disarray, perspiration dripping from my being in a tres indelicate manner, only adds to the trauma.

Tomorrow my schedule goes back to normal and Bubbles is off. Tomorrow will be a good day.. if I make it until then.

When I join you tomorrow, we'll tackle some of the burning questions from this past week. We'll explore how painting a machine increases productivity. We'll discover who came up with this Japanese "training" malarkey and most of all, we'll try to find out why I've been doing machine maintenance for the past three days and calling it an "Alakazam!" project.

Yes.. our corporate office paid the equivalent of six times my yearly salary to implement this program within our company.

But I have to work short weeks to make ends meet.

Anywho..

Hopefully I can get back on track tomorrow.

Oh and by the way, with my post the other day on my attraction to less burly, more girly men, I did not mean to imply in any way that the UBER masculine Craig Ferguson fell in to that category. I mean, I'm sure we can all agree that he positively OOZES testosterone.

I apologize for any confusion I may have caused.

*insert eyeroll*

*snort*

Ya'll be good. I'll see ya tomorrow.

Later Taters!

Opinions o' Mahala, Because I Know You Care

Welcome to Thursday ya'll!

I have no idea where this is going, so strap it on strap yourself in, grab a cuppa joe and hold on tight as we explore some random observations from the past week.

Sometimes, the most highly educated people, don't have a lick of damned sense.

The other day I called back to our engineering department to get some part number information from the head of our design team, Jabba. The conversation went something like this:

Me: "Hi Jabba! I need a part number for blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda."

Jabba: "Hey Mahala.. what's that you said?"

Me: "I said I need a part number for blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda."

Jabba: "I can't hear you at all, you're breaking up real bad on speaker phone, I don't know what's wrong with this thing.... say it again?"

Me: "I SAID I NEED A PART NUMBER FOR BLAH BLAH BLAH, YADDA YADDA YADDA!"

Jabba: "I'm not sure I got it that time. Can you just bring it back here?"

Now, ya'll will just have to excuse me for not being very patient with Mr. MakesFourTimesMySalaryWithTwoEngineeringDegreesAndSleepsAtHisDesk but, is it really THAT big of an inconvenience to PICK UP THE FECKIN' PHONE?

What is it about speakerphone and men? Is it just here? I mean, good gawd. Bossman's office is so close that I can just about spit on his little bald head from here, yet he feels the need to put me on speakerphone when he calls me for something. Hell.. it would be less disruptive to just yell through the office and better than hearing myself in STEREO.. echoing down the hall.

Moving on..

Real men wear eyeliner, Part Deux:

After work yesterday, my brain was fried. I decided that I'd walk away from the computer for the night and give my feeble mind a break. Instead, I vegged out on the couch with the t.v. remote. I didn't cook dinner, wash clothes or draw dead bunnies. I did nothing productive.. and it felt good.

I found a movie that I'd not seen in forever, so I cuddled up under a blankie, wrapped my arms around a pillow and settled in with Johnny Depp in "The Man Who Cried."

Depp as the quiet, sensitive Gypsy who rides the magnificent white horse through the streets of Paris, loves little children and silently sobs at the loss of his lover, his heart shattering with every tear.. Dang people... What the hell else does a girl need after a hard day at the Cubicle Asylum?

Nothing. That's what.

On Craig Ferguson's mustache:

He shaved it off. Thank you Jesus. That's all I'm saying.

Because I'm psycho psychic, that's why.

Don't bother watching the national news cast ya'll. It's depressing, it's the same regurgitated mess on every channel, over and over again. I can tell you everything they're going to say and save you the bother, freeing up your t.v. time for the mindless brain candy you'd rather be watching anyway:

The economy sucks. Everything costs more, because gas costs more, but your paycheck is going to be less. There is no end in sight, we're all going to die and the world will come to an end.

Barack Obama said some stuff and some people turned it in to some other stuff and now, he's angry. John McCain said some stuff and some other people turned it in to some other stuff and now, he's angry.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

The weather sucks. It's either a horrendous heat wave and you're all going to fry or there is relentless flooding and you're all going to drown.

Then, there will be a 1o minute segment by newscasters that couldn't make instant oatmeal if their lives depended on it, on how to cut your grocery bill by buying exotic foods that I've never even heard of, cooked by equipment I can't afford to buy. This segment will be followed by a commercial for the local grocery store, where milk is on sale for $185 a gallon.

As an alternative to the national newscast, check out Link Tv. See how the rest of the world lives. Not going home to a mud hut at the end of the day or getting up every morning and heading off to work at an American owned factory... for about a quarter a shift.. makes me remember how rich I really am. It'll remind you what living in a "free country" really means.

Check out some World Music Videos from Egypt or Cuba. Use them to remind yourselves that there are people living in those little colored territories on the globe. People with families, humans who experience loss, love and joy.

Think outside the borders.

Anywho, that's my rantastic offering for today. Ya'll have a nice one. Take a moment to be thankful. I'll be trying to do the same.

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!

Long Weekends and Craig Ferguson

Holy Tater Tots Batman.. it's already Humpday!

One more day and this week will be toast. Thank (please insert the name of the Supreme Deity of your choice.) However, the four day holiday I've been looking forward to has been shortened to three days. Bossman is going out on sales calls next week, so both Bubbles and I are working a full week.

Five days of Bubbliciousness. I may be forced to impale myself right between the eyes with a hot pink hi-lighter.

I'm a tiny bit irked that Bubbles still gets her long weekend, being forced to take tomorrow as her "low-work" day, but I am thankful to get a full week's pay. These four day weeks are gettin' a little scary, especially when I check my account balance.

In other news...

Have ya'll seen that Craig Ferguson will be hosting the July 4th celebration on CBS? Ya'll can catch the Fergburger live from 10-11 p.m. Friday night. Rascal Flatts will also be performing.

I've not mentioned his Ferguliciousness lately, but I still record The Late Late Show every night (when I don't bork up the DVR) and start each day with snorts and giggles. It beats the hell out of the early morning news programs, with their rape, murder, plundering and pillaging. I have the rest of the day to catch up with the latest news.

Okay, I have to admit that for about a week, I did cheat on Craiggers.

*hangs head in shame*

I was lead astray by the discovery of The Riches on Hulu and I admit, I watched that instead. I've since seen the error of my ways (besides, I've watched all of them, some twice) and I promise to be good from now on.

*cough*

He'll forgive me.. right?

Craiggers???

*sniffle*

Okay.. I'd better get it in gear. Bossman is walking up and down the hall looking.. irritable.

Ya'll have a kick ass day. And remember, it's Humpday so hump it like a horny toad!

Ribbit.

Get Your Kink On and Try Not to Kill People

The sun is shining bright out my window this morning. The forecast is for a balmy, crack sweat producing 94°. This mini heat wave is only supposed to last through Monday or Tuesday, but it is June in the south.

Let the games begin.

The Amazon is in the shower getting ready for work. I was looking forward to a little "me" time to work on my shop this morning while she peddled gas to the townsfolk (not a popular place to be at the moment, as I'm sure you can imagine.) My plans were crunched by the unexpected arrival of my trashy-big-boobed cousin with the lazy eye's youngin. She's in like.. third or fourth grade I think. Ma worships the ground she walks on, to her the child does no wrong. Little Lazy Eye's favorite pass time is to sit on Ma's bed and squeal like a piglet in a rat trap, driving Yoda, the midget dog, in to hysterics, running from one end of the house to the other, yapping in that high pitched way that only a Chihuahuaranian can do.

Needless to say, this puts me in SUCH a peachy freakin' keen mood, especially first thing Saturday morning, that after several minutes of trying really hard not to be the weirdo, bitchy spinster cousin, I snap and scream through the house (at the dog.. bless it) to shut up, resulting in the voices coming from Ma's room having dropped to nervous whispers.

Before the day is over, Ma will come stomping in to the living room, making comments under her breath about my "anger issues" which, by the way, just pisses me off.

Between the serious lack of forking in my family tree and living with Little Miss Crazypants back there, that I'm not a psychopathic serial killer is, in itself a miracle.

Can you tell I'm just a WEE bit cranky?

Anywho...

Did ya'll see where Ferguson was showing panda porn on The Late Late Show last night? I think he's got some kinda weird bear fetish. I mean.. a while back he had tape of him dry humping a grizzly in an elevator, now he's got panda porn.

Kinky little chit, ain't he?

*snort*

Okay, this could go like.. horribly downhill from here so I'm going to go get more coffee, walk by the sink full of dirty dishes and growl at them a few more times, then eventually wash them.

Ya'll have a great weekend!

Later Taters.

Izzard, Ferguson and Green Thumbs

It's a cool, cloudy morning down in the holler. I've got hash browns with onions and a tray of biscuits in the oven. There's a big, red, juicy Grainger County tomato just waiting to be sliced when it's all done, the coffee's hot, the house is quiet, it's going to be a good day.

Plans for the weekend include a trip to Scary Hillbilly Town to the drug store. I'll probably fill Jolene's tank while I'm out there, the gas tax is less in Tennessee. Tomorrow I'm driving to Hickory to meet and collect the Amazon after her fun filled weekend of Japanese animation excitement.

In between the planned adventures, I'll be puttering around the house, scrubbing here, sweeping there. I need to give the dog a bath and plant some sunflower seeds at some point.

Yeah I know, the most boring weekend ever. But after the hot water heater fiasco two weekends ago and hauling eight years accumulation of trash to the dump last weekend, I need a little boring. Boring can be a good thing.

At the asylum yesterday, Bossman showed signs of humanity. Everyone was gone except me and him. All the managers had snuck out early, even though we have a very strict policy about the days immediately before and after a holiday. He told me to put five on my time card and head out. Okay so.. it was all of thirty minutes but hey.. I'll take what I can get.

Bubbles worked through lunch and left an hour early for another road trip with Bubbahubby and the sisters Precious. She always leaves an hour early when she's going away for the weekend.

Does an hour really make any difference? I think it's just so she can flit up and down the hall and inform everyone that she's leaving early, seizing the opportunity to bore everyone with her vacation plans.

Just a catty observation...

On Thursday, she left early for a doctor's appointment. Does anyone else think it's weird that she had to go to the doc the day before their last weekend road trip?

Coinkidink? Maybe.. maybe not.

Last night I fixed me and Ma cheesy mooburgers for dinner, then curled up on the couch to watch an Eddie Izzard special I hadn't seen before. I've been a huge fan of his since he first started showing up in the American media. His unique spin on religion and world history crack me up.

Eddie Izzard's act is one of those things I'm pretty sure no one else in Frog Pond Holler could appreciate. Guys in drag making references to Noah as played by Sean Connery would be too much for their delicate, southern sensibilities.

I dozed off some where around the end of the special, waking up just in time to watch Craig Ferguson... and feed a very disturbed Ozzy, who had gotten use to being fed by the Amazon much earlier in the evening. I can't prove it, but I'm pretty sure he told me off in Newfie when I finally made it out there with his food.

Oh and.. Richard Lewis and Craig Ferguson together? Insanely hilarious. Any time a guest can bring Craiggers to covering his face, yelling and snickering uncontrollably it's worth watching.

It was beautiful man.

The sun's peeking through the trees now. I'd hoped it was going to rain on my container garden, but it looks like I'll need to go out and give them all a little drink. I've got two squash, cucumber, tomato and a few small pots with spinach. The only actual greenery I have is the tomato, but that's because I set a plant out. None of my seeds are showing any signs of life.. yet.

If we had to depend on my farming abilities to live, we'd be in serious trouble.

Anywho, I'd better go jump in the shower and get all beautified for that trip to Scary Hillbilly Town. Ya'll enjoy the weekend.

Later Taters!

Craig Ferguson Withdrawal and the Fire Safety Groove

Did ya'll make it through Humpday unscathed? We're one day closer to a three day weekend (wee!) Things are looking up all the time.

Well.. other than my DVR situation.

I've changed every setting, I've bought new discs, checked the gajillion cables to make sure everything was still connected.. I give up. I miss Craig Ferguson ya'll. I'm reduced to watching the monologues online and the occasional skit they deem worthy of the website. Since the Amazon is going to be gone all weekend anyway, I'm going to dig out the book that came with the stupid thing and try to sort out the problem. I can't buy a new one.. major entertainment purchases are like.. SO not in my budget right now.

Speaking of Craig Ferguson, which I don't do nearly often enough, I saw that he's appearing in Georgia this September. I checked the location, I think I can get there in like three hours. Depending on assorted variables like the price of gas, how much cash I have and the chance they'll hear I'm coming and cancel the show like they did in Big City last year.. I may be able to make it down there.

Ya'll know how much I love meetings right? Yesterday, at around 1:15 p.m., I was informed that I needed to be in one at 2:15 p.m. For reasons unknown, our HR department no longer issues memos of upcoming meetings, they just wait until about an hour before it's scheduled to begin, expecting you to just drop any actual WORK you might be doing and march willingly down to the break room to sit through some senseless hogwash for an hour. This week's selection, a double feature:

Bloodborne Pathogens followed by The Proper Use of Fire Extinguishers

I was positively giddy with excitement. I could hardly contain myself. By the end of the first one I'd had enough. The chief engineer, Jabba, was asleep and snoring in front of me. His first mate was also asleep to my right. Lulu and I contemplated bombing them with spit balls just to break up the monotony, but they turned the lights back on long enough for us to take the required quiz, which will be placed in our file. I don't see the point, the HR manager stood at the front of the room and read the answers off to us.

It's like junior high all over again. I wasn't fond of the experience the first time around, I damn sure don't want to have to relive it.

The second film was all about how to use a fire extinguisher. Lucky me, I have the designated office extinguisher hanging about two feet from my desk. I tell my co-workers that if a disgruntled employee ever comes back to shoot the place up, I'm using it as a weapon. It's never occurred to me that I may have to use it to put out an actual fire.. although there was that one time I left a candle burning too close to one of the plants on my desk, melting a big hole in the plastic planter.

Yeah.. they aren't going to let me live that one down.. ever.

The second film did have better graphics and there was some cheesy, chicka-chicka-bow-wow, circa 1974 porn music playing. I felt inspired. I was moved. It began with a slight nodding of my head, progressing in to a full-on, upper-body version of the cabbage patch. The sight of me there, in the back row of the snack room with my eyes rolled back, biting my bottom lip, grunting quietly along with the music, getting my fire safety groove on was more than Lulu could handle.

She snorted.

Bossman's face almost exploded as he tried like hell to stifle a laugh, because gawd forbid he should like.. show some emotion.

You gotta be goofy or go wonky taters around here. Sometimes I do both.

For now, I'm going to go finish recreating the entire motor price file that I accidentally deleted yesterday, one of many major boo-boos I've accomplished in the past week. One of my customers emailed me this morning that we need a B complex vitamin to keep from being so scatter brained. Reckon that would help?

I think it's just Fergburger withdrawal. Do they have patches for that?

Ya'll have a killer, kick bootay day.

Later Taters.

If you use yahoo, I'm back in the game.
Hidden.Mahala

The Shrub, The Scott, C-SPAN and Boogers

It's a comfy 66° in the holler this morning. A nice breeze is finding it's way to town, wafting down the river. The sky is peppered with thick, billowing clouds, the kind that make you wish you could crawl inside them and curl up in their cottony fluffiness for a nap.

It's going to be a good day.

The hiker celebration was a success yesterday, or so I heard. I stepped outside only once, when Ozzy's excited barking alerted me to the fact that he'd flipped his empty water bucket over. He learned the trick when he was a young pup. He had to for survival. When you have as many animals as we do, they have to learn to speak up when they need something or get lost in the shuffle. I'll leave ya'll to excite your mind's eye with the visual of me stepping through the poopy-turd mine field that is the dog lot, hauling a bucket, stylin' and profilin' in my "cows jumping over the moon" night shirt and coffee stained cotton robe.

Other than that, I spent most of my time washing dishes, blowing my nose and snorting my own nasal spray concoction. Thankfully I don't have the yacking chest phlegm of Bossman and PG, it's just a little head cold, probably allergies.

I will live in spite of my whining.

~*~

My DVR is still borked.

I dunno what the sam hill shit is going on with the stupid thing. I was starting to think that the Universe was trying to tell me something. I mean, when circumstances make it that difficult for me to accomplish something, eventually I start to believe that it isn't meant to be.

Seriously. Everything happens for a reason. I believe that, but honestly, how could it possibly benefit the Universe that I be denied drooling over Craig Ferguson in the early morning hours? I think the Universe and I need to have a little sit down out behind the barn.

I woke up from a deep, antihistamine induced sleep on the couch Friday night, JUST in time to catch Letterman introducing the Fergburger as his next guest. How's that for timing? I didn't know he was going to be on, so I got a double dose of Fergiliciousness.

Be still my heart. Damn near thought I'd have to put 911 on standby.

Of course I caught his stint at the White House Correspondence Dinner on C-SPAN last night too, (my dorkiness has been lifted to an all-time high) the highlight of which occurred when an aide leaned over to explain one of his jokes to The Shrub President Bush, who then let out a loud laugh, moments after the laughter of the audience had subsided.

Cracked my ass right up.

I got up early this morning... well... early for me, on Sunday. I staggered groggily through the house, searching for my nasal spray (I know.. the sexy image that conjures up is more than you can stand..) finally finding it, making the coffee then going back to sleep on the couch. (I'll spare you a description of the copious amounts of bodily fluids and sticky snot goblins that I retrieved from my face.) I don't know what time I woke up and turned the boob tube on, but the moment I did, there he was again.

More Craiggers on the boob tube.

No doubt this weekend, the Universe has seen fit to reward me for some earth shatteringly good deed.

~*~

I'm sitting here watching "The Mummy" with Brendan Fraser for the umpteenjillionth time (don't tell Craiggers I'm lusting after another) and for some reason I suddenly remembered a book I read in my pre-teen (pre-alcohol, pre-promiscuity, pre-head banging obsession) years about a girl who was the reincarnation of an Egyptian princess. I thought for a second, then remembered the title, "Touch Not the Cat," (not the one by Mary Stewart.) It dawned on me that I've heard that phrase before, quite recently. "Touch Not the Cat" is the motto on the crest of the Clan Chattan, which I found while digging through the Scottish side of my family tree.

This entire exchange took place in my head within a few seconds. Only my psycho brain can go from seeing Brendan Fraser half naked in a mummy's tomb to the McPhersons of Inverness.

Do they make medication for that?

Anywho, I've rambled on for long enough. It's almost Monday. Hey.. maybe we'll get those stimulus checks this week. I could really, really, REALLY use some stimulation. I mean money. If we get them, I'm getting my nails done and ... hair. I feel like an old frump and I'm tired of it. Mahala needs to get her hookerlicious, pornstarrific, acrylic talons rockin' those french tips.. then look out Bubba.

*snort*

It's okay, I gross myself out too.

Later Taters!

Burnin' the Holler and Taking Pictures of Craig Ferguson

As you can see, the fire wasn't really anywhere near the Asylum. I took these from the back door, with varying zooms, making Louise's fits of nearly passing out from smoke even more amusing. Later in the day, the blaze cranked back up and filled the whole holler with smoke, bringing the arrival of more helicopters, U.S.F.S. trucks and assorted bubbas bearing rakes, shovels and other fire fighting paraphernalia. Of course, by then I'd been home for lunch and left my camera at the trailer.

I have no future as a news photographer. Someday when I get brave, I'll show ya'll the stealthy pic I took of Craig Ferguson and his lady friend in Vegas, which will prove that any future I'd hoped for as a member of the paparazzi is just as ill-fated.

It's so bad, only I can tell it's him. Oh and the really funny part? I wasn't even taking a picture of the happy couple, they just happened to walk through the frame.

Anywho, I've got some stuff I need to do while the Amazon is at work. I'll be back later with tales of.. something.

Later Taters!

The Bunny, Stalking Craig Ferguson and Hillbilly Fairytales

Oh it's shaping up to be a fine day here in the holler.

Bossman called in sick with the creepin' crud. Our Mapics system is down, meaning we can't do any data entry, check inventory or run reports. Basically, Bubbles and I are just sitting around looking at each other, unsupervised.

Yay.

Do ya'll remember the bunny? The other day, Aunt Moses presented me with a bright orange golf ball which, she said, "that rabbit was out thar a' tryin' to hatch." Apparently he thinks he's the Cadbury bunny, Aunt Moses swears he was sitting on the golf ball like a hen on an egg. She said she sees him all the time, that he sleeps under the hippy van and my car and he's not afraid of the lawn mower.

Is it weird that when wildlife invades our yard, it hangs around, gets named and becomes part of the family?

Okay wait...

....only wildlife with legs. Slithery things need not apply.

I guess that sort of makes me like.. the Snow White of Frog Pond Holler, with all the little woodland creatures hanging around, making themselves at home. I'm not sure "Snow White" would fit though. I'm more of a light tan, sort of like.. south western stucco. Oh yeah and my truck would have to substitute for the dainty carriage... and I'm more likely to be flying off to Vegas to stalk see Craig Ferguson than to a ball with a handsome prince.

I can see it now...

Coming Soon to a Theater Near You....

The Adventures of Stucco Beige, Hillbilly Princess

*snort*

PG just kindly informed us that our computer system would most likely be down for the rest of the day.

Well ain't that just a fine howdy do?

It's gonna be a long one. I guess I'd better go find something to keep myself busy. Maybe I can unstaple some files, then restaple them.

Woohoo.

Ya'll have a good one. Later Taters!

It's All About Craig Ferguson (and Bubbles, the Rifleman and some Photos)

There's nothin' quite like a fresh, steamy cup of coffee and biscuits, hot from the oven, stuffed with a thick, slightly salted slice of tomato to start your day off right.

Take my word for it. I wouldn't steer ya'll wrong when it comes to mater biscuits.

For the first time in a couple of weeks, I was able to stay up last night and watch most of The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson. I made it through the opening and the email before I ran out of steam. Speaking of the Fergburger, I had this comment on yesterday's post from Bluez:

Fuhgeddabout ole Dick, the REAL news of the week is your Boy Craig beating Conan's late night tv show rating! Since I've started working later hours I've started watching your beloved Craig and he's frickin hysterical! Conan Schmonan!!

I also had an email from Cathy, one of my fellow Fergusfans, linking me to this article, "Ferguson Tops O'Brien for First Time." The news that Craiggers blew past Conan in the ratings didn't stop there. When I logged on to Twitter, I found this tweet from LateShowUK and another from Cracked (it's a couple entries down the page.)

I'm so proud... *brushing away a tear*

*snort*

Anywho, way to go Ferburger. I always knew you kicked bootay.

Ma has asked me to make a grocery run this afternoon. She's out of Coke's (God Forbid!) and peed-a-little-pads. I'll just grab some sandwich meat and stuff to hold us over until payday. There's plenty of meat in the freezer, we're just out of easy stuff for Ma and the Amazon to nuke. Oh and I WILL REMEMBER to pick up some blank DVDs. If I have to tatoo it on my forehead. I never told ya'll exactly why I need new ones did I? I had a stack of them which I recorded Ferguson on two shows at a time, then I'd erase them and start over. That one stack lasted me almost two years. I didn't re-record on all of them. There are a few I've kept, safe in the cabinet, when things were said that.. well.. anyway.. I've kept some. But the remaining stack? A few weeks ago when I was on a cleaning spree, I had a bowl of cheap cleaning liquid sitting on the floor while I was on my knees attacking the dust bunnies on the entertainment center, when I accidentally dumped the whole stack in the bowl.

They didn't work anymore after that.

Can you say "oops?"

Anywho, after I make a grocery run I plan to work on my shop a little. I'm currently working on adding products featuring some of the gazillion photos I've taken around the mountains over the past couple of years. I'd like to do some calendars with different photos too eventually. Once I get those added, I'm going to try to get back into sketching. I even bought supplies. We'll see how that works out.

I'm only working three days this week. I'm taking off Thursday and Friday. I get to go back to Dr. Sexypants the rheumatologist in Big City Thursday, so I decided to just take a long weekend. I want to get some stuff done around the house and there's not a lot of work going on at the office right now anyway.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot! I stealthily snapped some photos while Bubbles was gone the other day. The first is two of the three buckets o' candy. Actually, the third was an Easter basket packed full, but all the candy was from Halloween.

Anywho.. I'd better get my ass in gear, my back field in motion and with the program.

I'll see ya'll later.

Blessings to ya'll.

Update: I noticed some stuff showing in that second picture that probably wasn't a good idea. I'll have to edit it later and put it back up.

Spring is Here, Craig Ferguson Isn't and Bitchy McCrankyPants Lives On

Good morning ya'll!

The sun is shining, we're promised a perfect high of around 60°F and the icing on the cake? Bossman is outa here until Friday.

Kin I git a HOORAH?

I spent the better part of last night learning the ins and outs of Google Base, so that I could submit my shop items to their feed. Not a simple task for simple minded folk like me, but I think I got it sorted out. I know some of you sell bead crafts and other things, it might be worth looking into.

Anywho..

The state of the Mahala trailer is starting to annoy me. It seems I've become the maid, cook, zookeeper and hunter/gatherer. This is putting a strain on my otherwise cheerful personality (insert eyeroll here) because after eight hours of being Uber Sales Person Extroidonaire, then coming home and attempting to become Super Duper Interwebs Marketing Genius while running back and forth to the stove and dishwasher, I'm beginning to get just a TAD bit irritated.

My Bitchy McCrankyPants mood lingers on.

Adding to my aggravation is the continued absence of Craig Ferguson from my daily routine. You can't buy RW DVDs in Frog Pond Holler and I've not been anywhere but the grocery store. I forgot to look when I was there. I need to make a run to Scary Hillbilly Town this weekend, surely I can find some there.

Oh yeah, the reason I need to go to Scary Hillbilly Town is to check with Walgreens regarding their prescription plan. The insurance, which I PAY for out of each check, just went up AGAIN. A generic prescription was $37.50 for a 90 day supply. Now, I have to pay a $100 deductible, then $50 for a 90 day supply. Rumor has it, that Walgreens has the same drugs, same quantity, for $12.99.

Now I ask you. If Walgreens can sell it for $12.99, why can't my Big Name Major Insurance Company sell it for less than $50? I think you have to pay $20 a year for the Walgreens program. The real butt biter? I can't drop my prescription coverage while keeping my medical. I'll have to pay for it anyway.

HELLO??? UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT??? ARE YOU LISTENING??? CAN YOU SAY "MY ASS OVER A BARREL"???

Sorry. It just rubs me wrong. I need a part time job in order to afford my full time job's "benefits." What kind of effed up logic is that?

Day Lord have mercy. I'd better go before they send the Secret Service over here to the holler. Maybe I'll sneak outside and get some fresh air, enjoy the spring temperatures.

Ya'll have an awesome day, kay?

Later Taters!

No Craig Ferguson and Amphibians in My Head

Gray skies hanging over Frog Pond Holler made it really hard to get out of bed this morning.

It's been a rough one ya'll.

I've been having a bad spell the past few days. I can't get my rings on, my head's all froggy and walking feels like treading water. I know it's only temporary and it's no where near as bad as it was pre-colchacine, but it's still annoying. By lunchtime I'm usually back to normal, the frogs have cleared out and my fingers look a little less like Jimmy Dean sausage links.

In other news, my DVR is borked. I think (hope) it's just that I've worn out the DVD I was taping Craig Ferguson on. In any case, I won't know for sure until I'm able to make a trip to civilization to get more. I bought some about a month ago, but they were DVD +R, not DVD -R. (WTF?) In the meantime, I can't watch Ferguson in all his butt wiggling glory until I get it fixed. This makes for a very unhappy Mahala.

Anywho, the Hee-Haw County Weekly comes out today, so I'll be back after lunch with all the holler news that's fit to tell. In the meantime.. ya'll know what day it is.

Hump it real good.

I'm Going to Hide Today

I was sitting at my desk yesterday, hard at work playing Bejeweled and listening to Metallica through my shnazzy new earbuds, full of angst and suffering from a serious case of the "Idon'tgiveashits." The ringing phone forced me to kill the tunes. When I answered it, I was greeted by an angry customer who had the balls to imply that I might not be telling the truth (not a wise move) and who then proceeded to crawl up my rear end sideways.

Sing it with me.. "It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood.. a beautiful day for a neighbor..."

When it was over (I'll spare you the gory details,) Bossman sheepishly approached my desk to ask if everything was okay. I know he heard the whole thing, you can't fart around here without at least 8 people knowing right away. I looked at him, smiled and said, "Everything's fine. Someone was just having a bad day and mistakenly assumed he was going to take his frustrations out on me."

Bossman said, "But you kindly shed some light on the situation and helped him to redirect his frustrations?"

"Ummm yes. Thats it," I answered.

I was so glad to see five o'clock get here. I bolted, making a beeline out of Dodge before Bubbles could even get her purse. I made my daily stop at the post office (no home mail delivery in Frog Pond Holler) to check our box. Inside, I found a letter from the bank where I have Jolene (my truck) financed. It was one of those "your insurance coverage is going to expire and we're going to come take your truck" letters. In the 1/4 mile between the post office and the trailer, I'd worked myself into a hell of a tizzy, convincing myself that Ma hadn't made the insurance payment, that I'd have to use the credit card that I'd just paid off to make the payment to keep from losing my vehicle. I wondered why the hell I can't get my car sold (the economy.. duh,) how I was going to pay my cell phone bill with only $4 in left in my checking account and where the hell is my "stimulus check" when my bank account could use some serious stimulation?

By the time I walked in the door, I was a red hot mess, ready to do battle.

All because of a letter. One mailed the day after Ma made the insurance payment.

Thankfully I had forced myself to calm down before asking Ma about the insurance. I hid in the bathroom a good 20 minutes after I got home and read the funny paper until I felt sorta kinda human again.

I faced this morning with a new attitude. The raging hormones of the female curse had subsided (they still refer to it as "the curse of Eve" around here,) Craig Ferguson was back on the air after a week of reruns (and thank GOD for that new set. That Pepto-Bismal barf colored one was a little hard on the eyes,) and the smell of spring is in the air. I also realized this morning that we're off this Friday, a three day weekend always makes things a little brighter.

I arrived at the office knowing things were looking up, that I was going to have a really good day.

Then it happened. The unthinkable.

Lulu, the only person in all of Frog Pond Holler that I can get along with, the only ally I have here at the Asylum... snapped at me. Bit my head off. Snarled up her face and spewed forth an acidic stream of words that nearly brought me to tears.

It's the end of the world as I know it.

If anyone's looking for me, I'll be curled up under my desk in the fetal position, quietly singing "This Little Light of Mine."