The Mass Exodus of the Menfolk

It's a gray and gloomy morning in Frog Pond Holler, but I'm awake and that's a win.

I borrowed T.A.'s phone and called the Social Security office yesterday to check on my disability claim. No lie, I waited an hour and fifteen minutes for my call to be answered, only to be told that I should know something between now and January 10. I applied on September 1st.

I fully realize that it may all be in vain, what with the lying, Cheeto dusted, butthole mouthed, psychopath threatening to dismantle the whole system once he moves in to the White House. It's okay, I've been fighting my whole life, I'll fight that too.

I've got a whole tirade on Forest Trump started, but that will have to wait. Sometimes you just have to shut the whole world out for a while when the absolute ridiculousness of it all overwhelms. 

I emailed Shady Pines to check on Ma. I explained that I was really worried, needed to know how she was and that I wasn't able to call due to lack of a phone or visit without a vehicle. I received a reply from the director asking why I hadn't provided a phone number, that it would be so much easier to keep in touch with a phone call. 

I wanted to email him back and say, "I'm sorry, CAN'T YOU READ?" But I didn't. I replied and explained again. That was a few days ago, but I've not heard anything else. I'm sure Ma copped an attitude, but I can't keep beating myself up over it. I've done all I can do.

Things have gotten a little crazy over at Aunt Moses' house. A month or so ago, my trashy-big-boobed-cousin-with-the-lazy-eye announced that she and her brood were moving to N.Y. Her internet hubby was from there and had apparently had enough of back-to-nature mountain top living.

They got rid of all their dogs, which pissed me off, and started packing. They'd been living in a doublewide, formerly owned by Aunt Moses' inlaws and now the property of Aunt Moses' oldest son, James. James started the ball rolling to sell the place as soon as he found out about the move, he's been wanting to unload it for years.

When moving day came around, TBBCWTLE was informed by her NY bubbahubby that HE was moving to NY, taking his son with him. He had no intention of taking them with him. 

Big time asshole move.

So now, TBBCWTLE, her daughter and her snakes have moved in to Aunt Moses' house, which had already been squatted by TBBCWTLE's son and his little wifeypoo. ON THE SAME DAY, Uncle Clarence announced that, since he was done with chemo, he was moving to Montana to live with James. He loaded up his motorcycle and left. 

There was a lot of sadness at Aunt Moses' house.

There are now 4 adults and one angsty teen living in a two bedroom house. Only 2 of those people have jobs. I think TBBCWTLE gets a check for her daughter.

In the weeks following Uncle Clarence's move, he had another heart attack, a stroke and something else involving an aneurysm. Aunt Moses has had to take off work to go up there a bunch of times. 

Aunt Moses is currently mad at me for not coming over for Turkey Day, but I'm sorry.. snakes. It's probably healthy for her to have someone to be angry at and if she wants to take it out on me, that's okay. 

When I start feeling all woe-is-me-ish, I stop and give thanks that at least it's not as bad as it is over at Moses'. Lawd.

Anywho, I should probably take little Cisco out for a few minutes. I think I saw Gladys Kravitz walking her little pooch earlier, so it should be safe to go outside. Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!

Cisco Kid Was a Friend of Mine

Lawd ya'll, the sun is shining and it's a beautimous day here in the holler. And? I'm awake to appreciate it. I've been on a "day awake" roll for a few now, fingers crossed that it will last a while.

That night-walker, vampire bullshit was getting old fast.

The other day, through a series of messages from T.A. and under the premise of an early birthday present, I was coerced into bringing home another eater-pooper. 

He's five months old, a habitual cuddler, licker and coffee stealer. His name is Cisco. Don't ask me about lineage, I only know that his mother was a shih tzu. 

No seriously. I met her. 

There was high falootin' chihuahua/pit bull, pimp daddy lookin' little mother fecker running around the trailer park in a fancy fur lined coat, but he just kept creeping around us all shady and shit, watching us. I suspect he was the baby daddy.

We didn't really pick Cisco. I'd had my heart set on a female, but of the five, he was the only one that didn't do the stranger danger bark the whole time we were there. As a matter of fact, he pretty much stayed next to T.A. the whole time. It was like he'd been waiting for us.

If you look closely at the picture above, you'll see that the middle of our couch is broken. Earlier today, I got a wild hair up my butt and with a pair of scissors and my duct taped hammer, I tore that whole section out. Now it perfectly frames the window. If anyone asks, I'm going to tell them we had it custom built. It's like a little doggie window seat.

I'm still waiting for word from disability. It's been three months, to the day. In the meantime, I've been trying to get over the "my life is over" mentality. I have accepted that getting another job is out of the question, and that's okay, but I need to be able to keep the lights on.
                                                                   
I still harbor a lot of anger over The Asylum, but it's getting better. I'm a little afraid of running in to the Pillsbury Doughboy lookin' mother fucker that gave me the axe, only because I don't want to go to jail, but there's a part of me that's willing to take that chance for the satisfaction of calling him out on his bullshit up in the grocery store and possibly pelting him upside the head with a bottle of ketchup.

Anywho, I've got pieces of couch to toss out on the porch. It'll just have to lay in the pile until I get the brakes fixed on Jolene. I'm sure old Mrs. Kravitz will have something to say about it. She can bite me.

Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!!     

Insomnia, Blessings and Pictures

I can't sleep. Wait, let me clarify that. I can't sleep at night. T.A. leaves for work around 11p.m., I turn everything off, go crawl in the bed and instantly I'm wide awake. There have been nights when the birds were already all doing the morning  chirpy-chirpy song before I was able to drift off. 

Sometimes it's 3 in the afternoon before I can get up. It's driving me nutso. I'VE GOT SHIT TO DO.

I got some sleepytime medicine from the DG which turned out to be the same thing as Benadryl. I go to sleep, but then I can't get awake the next morning. 

I went back tonight, we were out of toilet paper anyway, and got some melatonin. I washed one down with some plop plop fizz fizz cold medicine. Finger's crossed. 

If this doesn't work, my next stop will be the liquor store.

Insomnia is an a-hole.

Anywho... 

I took this from the bridge back last month when everyone was standing around watching the mountains burn. I don't know where this guy was from, he was on the campground and seemed to be saying a prayer or giving a blessing, hand outstretched towards the fire. The rains came right after I took this. It rained buckets for three days. 

Just putting that out there. 

I uploaded all the pictures I had saved to my camera. I'll be boring ya'll with slightly unfocused shots for weeks. I took this one about a week ago, from across the river:

I had over 200 pictures saved, but I'd put off uploading them all. I knew they contained pictures taken by The Amazon on the day she spent at the zoo with Long Lost Daughter and the grand youngins. I knew they would be hard to look at, all things considered. There were also pictures of Yoda, who we lost to an accident about a month ago. He was 13 I think. 

I haven't talked about it because.. well.. I just don't want to. I miss him a lot. 

I still have Sammy, who's 15 and Ayla. Sammy follows me every step I take and is content as long as he can scootch his butt up against someone at bedtime. 

Ayla suddenly decided that she'd had enough of these hikers. She ripped all of the skirting off the backside of the trailer to set herself free and treed two of them in the middle of town. 

She has to stay tied now.

I am so against tying a dog out, but if she bites someone... and she would.. she'll end up being put down. She's just very protective of her territory. Her tie out is long enough that as long as she stays in the yard, she's never far enough to pull on it and she comes in whenever she wants to. It still worries me, but I don't know what else to do with her. 

When I get rich and build a privacy fence around the property, creating a half acre, anti-social compound, all my problems will be solved. 

The older I get, the less I want to leave the house. I should probably see someone about that.

OH... I almost forgot! Me and TA went by to see Ma the other day. She seems to be content and doing well. I was afraid to tell her I'd lost my job, afraid that she'd say she could come home now, but all I had to mention was the lack of ac in my house and she was like.. nope.. I'll just stay right here.

It's midnight, so I'm going to go get still in front of the fan and see if Mr. Sandman will sneak in. Ya'll have a good one! We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

How An Old Lady Got Crabs (Hermit Crabs)

It all started late last summer. For some reason, I suddenly decided I wanted a turtle. I'd had them when I was a kid and the thought of setting up a beachy little aquarium made me happy... and I started obsessing, as I do. But then.. I realized that turtles grow and their needs grow with them. By the time I'd come to my senses, I'd mentally constructed a giant turtle habitat in the backyard out of cinder blocks, with an intricate temperature control system with drainage pipes and... 

I had to stop myself. This is how my mind doesn't works. 

I considered an aquarium, but the water here is so acidic, you can never get it right. I know, I've tried more than once and I'm too old to be lugging 20 gallon jugs of spring water home from the DG everytime it needs to be changed. 

Screw that mess.

So I started looking at hermit crabs. Growing up by the beach, where you could buy them in every tacky little shop on the strip, you'd have thought I'd had at least one, but I never did. I figured, a little wire crate thing, a little crab, easy peasy, lemon squeezy! 

It's never easy peasy. 

Apparently, hermit crabs have to have controlled humidity and constant warmth.. so the little wire cage thingie is out. Also, they have to molt.. and to molt, they need at least six inches of moist sand to bury themselves in. That's why most of them croak after a few months after you take them home from the beach. 

By the way, molting is some gross shit. They shed their exoskeleton, then eat it. Nasty. And amazing.

Who knew? 

I am not going to divulge how much I spent on a home for my $6.99 hermit crabs. In my defense, I was still working at The Cubicle Asylum at the time. I made up for what I did spend by making a lot of the stuff, and some of it came from The Dollar Tree. Most of the money went into the tank (which you can find on Craigslist cheap, but that means peopling and ya'll know that's not my thang,) two heating pad thingies and sand. You just use play sand from the home improvement store. It's like $5 for a hughnormous bag. 

They have two little swimming pools, one saltwater, one fresh, plenty of sand, a coconut hut (which we made from an actual coconut. I nearly lost a toe trying to cut the door in it with the pruning shears,) some leftover ruins from an old aquarium set up and a bubbly thing in their water. 

There are three little guys in there, but the littlest one is buried. That's why the salt water looks a little skunky. He's burrowed under it and I didn't want to move it around to clean it. One of the big guys had shoved a giant tumbleweed of half-dead frog moss in there, making a huge mess. All frog moss has been since removed. 

They were hiding when I took these. I'd just finished cleaning the inside of the glass and moving things around. If you look really close at the pic below, you can see Goliath's shell behind the ruins. That's where they hang out when they need alone time. They don't give two shits that I damned near lost a toe making that coconut hut.

I have a purple night light (which is also for more heat, it gets colder than a well digger's butt up in this trailer in the winter.) When it's on, they come out for a swim, see what's in the food bowl (I love to watch them eat,) and climb around. Goliath and Sam (there was a Dean too.. but I don't want to talk about it,) live on top of the roll top desk, by the computer. 

I am a little bothered by where hermit crabs come from. They cannot be bred in captivity. The little crabbins are just hanging out, doing their crab thing on the beach, climbing trees and eating dead things, then a giant, grabby human comes along and scoops them up in a bucket. They're usually pulled out of the shells they have meticulously chosen for themselves (I've watched them, it's true!) and crammed in to "pretty" shells then shipped to pet stores. 

And it sucks. 

As long as there are tourist traps lining the beachfront, there will be a market for these little guys. Maybe I'm making it worse by having them, I don't know. 

I saw a CL listing the other day for a 40 gallon aquarium with 3 hermies for $20. Mine are currently living in a 10 gallon. Can you imagine the ginormous beach they could have then? Plus 3 new buddies. The 40 gallon had no top, no water, just a moldy little sponge. I could make them happy.

Thinking about it.  

No idea where I'd put a 40 gallon tank.

Anywho, I'd better get busy doing.. something. We'll talk again soon!

Later Taters!

All pictures can be clicked to embiggen!

The Truth About Chickens

Awww! Aren't they precious?

It's that time of year ya'll. The big hardware/farm supply chain starts tempting you with bins of tiny, fuzzy, cheeping bundles of adorable. They convince you the little darlings will have to have the $600 chicken condo to be happy, special nesting boxes, fancy feeders and heat lamps. Suddenly that $2 chicken requires a small loan to get started. 

And I fall for it every year. 

We only have one chicken left from the first batch I brought home two years ago. Ayla got a hold of one of them, then we lost four to the summer heat, but Cordelia is still out there, laying one beautiful blue egg a day.

A few weeks ago, T.A. came home with 6 more babies, 2 Ameraucana , 2 Golden Comets and 2 Black Laced Wyandottes. One of the Comets only made it a day and four of the others are growing ridiculously fast. One of the Wyandottes is half the size of the rest. She seems healthy and was only slightly smaller than the others when we brought them home, but now it's very obvious. 

Her name is Little Bit.

If you're thinking about getting your own hens, there are some things they won't tell you on all those fancy "chicken blogs." 

You know the ones I mean.

They have Amish built coops with staircases and red checkered curtains on the nesting boxes. They feed their "girls" out of Grandma's antique candy dish with their home grown, ground and mixed chicken feed. They post pictures of baby chicks wearing little tutus made from cupcake liners.

Mahala is going to tell you the truth about chickens. 

First of all, those cute little fluffy balls of peepiness? They'll stay that way for about a minute. Soon they morph into needy, teen aged velociraptor thingies, flying around and squirting butt juice all over that fancy assed coop... or in my case, the spare bathroom. 

Of course, when they start flying around it's time to move them outside, provided it's warm enough, which it is, but I can't move my demon spawn velociraptors cute little chicky chicky babies out to the coop just yet.

That would be too easy.

The other night, I went out to check on Cordelia. It had been raining buckets for the past two days and while I knew she had plenty of food and water, I wanted to take her some treats and visit a while. 

She gets a little lonely.

I opened the gate on the coop (not a fancy Amish wonder, an old chain link dog lot. This ain't Hollywood ya'll,) and immediately noticed that there was a problem. The tarp covering the lot had split, right down the middle and was hanging down on both sides.

Well shit.

As I stood there, bewildered, in cupcake pj pants, flip flops and a tank top, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do, the skies opened up. The rain began slowly, building up to a behemoth of a gully washer. Cordelia was scurrying around my feet, bitching about the lack of appropriate accommodations, threatening to call PETA. 

"You have a house, (an old dog house, but it's dry!) Why don't you go in it? There are chickens in Mexico that don't even have fine lookin' houses like you do and you never hear them bitching and complaining!" 

Cordelia was not amused. 

I knew that there was a spare tarp laying around somewhere and I'd found the zip ties I'd lost last year on my last cleaning spree, so I told Cordelia to stay put while I ran in the house to find them. 

Before I go on, I can hear you over there, shaking your head, rolling your eyes, being all Judgey McJudgeypants. I KNOW a tarp is like.. the worst possible thing to use to cover the coop. I KNOW okay? It was just supposed to be temporary. It will be covered with fence THIS WEEKEND. 

Anywho...

By the time I got back out there, Cordelia's courtyard was covered in about 3 inches of mud. I really need to invest in some rubber boots.. but ya know.. this is the holler, we work with what we have.

These are kinda cool. They're called  Buffy Boots. Cordelia is named after a Buffy the Vampire Slayer character. See what I did there? I crack myself up. Get yours for only $39.99!

If you're familiar with how tarps don't work, you know that water will tend to gather in places and cause big, bulging tarp babies. Normally, when it's been raining a lot, I'll go out there and periodically jab at the tarp babies from underneath with the garden rake and cause a tarp baby waterfall. If you don't, the water gets all swampy and stinky. 

I know of swampy. I used to live by the Great Dismal Swamp. I hadn't poked the water babies in a while. The odor was hurl inducing. It's really hard to tell which way the swamp water is going to come gushing down. 

I got soaked.

It wasn't easy, but I eventually got the new tarp secured. I had mud and chicken shit between my toes, I wreaked of swamp. The evil, go-to-hell look I gave T.A. when I went inside and she asked me, "What's for supper?" would have turned most people to stone. She'd just gotten up, she wasn't aware of the danger she'd put herself in.

Although Cordelia will be nice and dry for a while, I don't want to move the babies out to the coop until I get the top covered with fencing, so in the meantime, they're still in the spare bathroom. I was going to feed them earlier, opened the bathroom door and got swarmed. They, all five, flew into me and attached themselves to my shirt. 

I was wearing chickens. 

They love me. What can I say. 

So the next time you see those tempting bins of cute little chicky-chicky babies, just remember me, standing in the rain, chicken shit between my toes and the smell of swamp emanating from my body. Fight the urge. Just go buy some eggs.

We'll talk again soon!

Later Taters!!

George Lopez, Nutmeg and Turbo Bitch

No I'm not dead. I didn't get abducted by aliens or run away to live in the woods with Bigfoot.

I'll get to all that in a minute. First, let me introduce you to the little heathen I found in the parking lot at The Asylum:

Her name is Nutmeg. She was a tiny little thing, sitting in my parking space one day when I came back from lunch. I caught her with a bribe of the ham sandwich I'd brought. The vet guesses she was about 3 months old when I found her.

She's a snuggle bunny and Grimm has claimed her as his own. They play and he grooms her, it's adorable.

Kitty? Not so much. But at least now Grimm leaves her alone.

So let's dive head first in to everything else, shall we?

The Asylum is a clusterfuck. The Germans, who have now been bought by The Swiss, are amazing. They're making improvements left and right, we have amazing health insurance and nice pay. However, the little hussy they hired as Business Administrator is a total turbo bitch.

To date, I've been called in to a meeting with a select few others from the office and accused of starting rumors because business is slow and some of the guys from the plant asked the Big Guy why Gorilla Head wasn't selling anything.

They seem to think that when the plant guys are standing around with their thumbs up their hiney, they don't have enough sense to figure out why on their own.

I've been asked to leave a training meeting because, although I was sick as a dog and trying not to choke on my own snot, but showed up anyway, my cough was disruptive.

I lost my office and got kicked back to the hallway.

Lulu got her butt reamed for ten minutes because Turbo Bitch forgot what we told her two days before.

The new receptionist is a whiney ass ..... AND SHE STOLE MY EFFIN' SCISSORS.

To quote Stevie Nicks:

"The sea changes colors, but the sea, does not change."

Anywho, there's more.. so much more.. but I don't want to get myself all in a wad again. I've spent the past months sucking up and trying to be welcoming of the newest members of our staff, but this past week, they flipped the bitch switch.

In other news, I've been avoiding FB and Twitter mainly because of politics. Scratch that.. mainly because of Donald Trump. I even got my ass handed to me by George Lopez on Twitter.  Time for a reality check.

Also, I'm paranoid as hell at work to use the internet. They gave us the wiffy password, even put a access thingie in the hall, right outside my office. All I need is my phone to auto log on to FB and I'm toast. Or maybe not. I'm not sure. So.. no innerwebs at work.

Anyone know anything about phone encryption?

Back at the trailer, I've been working my ass off trying to get stuff back in order.

I know, Same ol' Song and Dance.

So far, I've gotten rid of the old entertainment center and the ginormous box tv. (I say got rid of, but they're piled on the front porch. The county wants 15 bucks to toss a tv. WTF???) I got a book case to ease the scatter of books every damn where. The fireplace has been beautified with some remote controlled candles from the dolla store.

I'm getting there.

But right now? The laundry room smells like skanky cat butt and there are dishes piled to kingdom come.

I'd better get on that.

Ya'll have a great holiday and hang in there. We're all gonna make it.

Later Taters!!

Pallet Porches and Shetland Sheep

 This post is being brought to you by Open Office, because the interwebbs is being a jerkhole.

I've checked all the lines, jiggled the doodads and taken a chainsaw to the nature that has invaded the power/phone lines. After that last bit, I came in to find Hulu working, sat down with a cup of coffee, feeling quite satisfied with myself, and made it as far as the opening credits of Modern Family before it all went to hell.

I reset the modem, wait for all the little blinkie lights to go green, turn on anything webby related and it's gone. I ran in to Aunt Moses down at the Pump and Go earlier. She said the connection was borked to hell up at the elementary school too.

I have also burned candles, chanted, prayed, begged and even considered making my way to the nearest crossroads for a little wheel and deal, but nothing.

Anywho, I'm hoping I can finagle enough of a connection to upload this post. If not, I'll have to thumb drive it to The Asylum Monday morning.

I will not be out done.

Enough whining about technology, or the lack there of, in the holler. On to other things...

I called in at work Thursday. My shower was frozen and I while I suppose I could have taken a sink bath, I didn't feel like dealing with it. Also, I'm ashamed to admit this but.. Twatwaffle called me in the office about a month ago to tell me I smelled like dog. So.. I'm not going to work if I'm not shower fresh.

I don't think I really smelled like dog. Lulu said TW was just trying to bring me down a peg or two, because orders were through the roof and I'd proven her wrong on so many levels. I dunno. I can't imagine I was walking around smelling like I'd rolled in nastiness without knowing it. But anywho, I took a vacation day. When I came back on Friday, my phone mailbox was full and I had 130 emails. TW was all, “Let's get through those phone messages and catch up those emails!”

Let's?

I told her that if I couldn't take a day off when needed without everything going to hell, that was a sign that maybe she needed to hire some help. I informed her that our customer service sucks, through no fault of mine and that we were losing sales every day by my inability to take care of all the phone calls and messages.

Her response?

“I know. I feel you guuurl. I was here til 8 o'clock last night.”

Then she went on her merry way. I swear to all that's Holy, she must have been dropped on her head as a small child, dribbled around the yard and tossed at the trash can for a three pointer.

When I get really frustrated at work, when I think I can't take one more day, I start looking for another job online. Eventually I calm down, remind myself that while my measly pay is .. well.. measly.. it's more than I can make anywhere else in town. Then I remind myself that they're going to pay me the same thing whether there are sales are not and I convince myself to just ride it out until the house is paid for.

In the mean time, TA and I have accumulated a stack of free pallets. If the ground isn't frozen when she's off on Monday, she'll finish digging the steps out. I'll have to wait til payday to get some water seal stuff. I'm hoping that will keep the pallets from rotting out from under us.

We've come to realize that we have a nearly unlimited supply of pallets that we can get from The Asylum and we've devised a plan to build a privacy fence. It will be way more work then buying panels, but the only cost, I think, will be nails and fence posts. The only thing that concerns me is whether or not either of us is strong enough to drive that many nails. I tend to use screws for everything so I can use my little power screwdriver, but nails will be less expensive. We'll see how the porch project goes first.. before one of us is rendered paralyzed by wiping out on the broken back steps.

I've been looking at sheep online. Did you know that Shetland sheep are little like Babydoll sheep? And that they don't have to be sheared? Apparently, they shed in the spring and you can sort of pull the loose wool, like we do the bunnies. It's called rooing. I could roo sheep.

You realize I'll likely be long dead before I can ever accomplish everything I have planned.

I also found a livestock auction over in Erwin, TN which is actually closer than Big City when you take the cattle trail over the mountain and through the woods. I told TA we needed to go check it out one Saturday, before we decide to buy anything.

Speaking of TA, she had a telephone interview with the Big City college library yesterday. It would be a decent job with good pay, doing what she wants to do. She said she froze and is convinced she came across like an idjit, but I'm hopeful that she gets called back for person to person interview. I'm not sure how they'll feel about the facial piercings and tatts, but whatever. In Big City, that describes pretty much everyone.

TA just has the one tattoo. It's the tree of life with a Thor's hammer in the trunk on her forearm. It's easily covered. Don't tell her I said this but.. at first glance to me it always looks like a big anchor and I'm reminded of Popeye. As for the piercings, she's got clear bits she wears in them when she works at the Frog Pond Holler library on Saturday mornings.

Am I rambling? I feel like I'm rambling.

As of this moment, the innerwebs is up and running, so I'd better strike while the iron is hot and get this posted. Ya'll take care, kay? We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!!

The Creeper Groper Plus Cute Kitten Video!

The Groper has been acting weird, even by Groper standards.

Lately, he's been found sitting at his desk, frantically texting for hours on end, which in itself isn't that weird I reckon, but it's a new behavior for him. Also, he moved his office to the one that became vacant when Sparkles took the sales manager position, placing him directly across the hall from Lulu, causing a big stinkin' butt load of tension.

Lulu despises The Groper, not for his groping, but because he's basically annoying and.. ya know.. weird. Plus, he knows everything, has an opinion on everything and is under the sad illusion that everyone else gives a big rat's ass what he thinks.

Now, me and Lulu have been working beside each other for a long ass time. Like, 17 years or so. We like to chit chat about things, family things, work things and often girly things. Stuff like, why would anyone ever get a Brazilian wax? Or as she pronounces it, "Brizilyern." Lulu is in an office. I am in the friggen hallway (still) on the outside of one of her walls that don't go quite to the ceiling. We yell alot of inappropriate girl talk back and forth, unless it's of a particularly delicate nature, then she stands in my door way. Stuff like cramps, diarrhea, churning snot and who's gonna pluck our chin hair when we end up in the home, are all subjects we try to keep to our little corner.

The Groper has taken to interjecting himself into our conversations. We do not like this. I know, it sounds mean girlish, but when I'm cramping up and my uterus is dropping demon spawn, I'm going to share that information with someone, usually against their will. I'd prefer that person to be Lulu. I'm getting on in the years and it's getting more and more difficult to suddenly change the subject to baking sugar free brownies or where to get the cheapest oil change when The Groper suddenly pops his head over the wall.

Then there's the personal space issue which he doesn't seem to be able to grasp. My desk faces the side cubey wall, leaving the entrance of my office to my right side. I know it goes against all the Feng shuey-ey rules and I don't remember why I put it that way, but it was a bad plan. The other day, I wore my bunny ring that I made from some leftover shop supplies. The Groper invited himself into my office and pretty much on top of me while I tried to work. He reached down and took my hand, stroking the ring.

"I wanted to see what you have here."

In my head I was all, "Get your hands off me you damned dirty ape!!!" but I actually just let him look.

Yeah I'm all nunchucks and badass mutha in type, but in person, I've got the backbone of a cocktail shrimp.

"I made it."

"Ooooo bunny rabbits. I like bunnies.. good eatin'," he said, smugly.

"I don't eat bunnies. I love my bunnies," I added, sounding more like Rainman than a badass anything.

"Oh yeah, that's right, you don't eat meat,"The Groper rolled his eyes, then added, pointing to his pointy teeth,"see these? They're for tearing meat, like little fluffy bunnies."

I looked at him. I should have been pissed off, but I wasn't. All I could think was.. Dude what is your deal here? Was he trying to make friends? Was he trying to wow me with his knowledge of the human anatomy and it's purpose? Trying to wiggle his way into the inner circle? Do two people make an inner circle? Was he totally lacking any social skills at all?

 There have been other incidents, all the same. I'm not sure about his methods, but it has become pretty obvious that he's on the prowl. A few days ago, he overheard me and Lulu talking about Grimm and broke his neck getting across the hall to tell me that T.A. had something in common with his "girlfriend" he's with now. They had the same name and she was a cat person too.

Girlfriend? Not Barbie doll Baby Mama? His live in/wifey/significant other.. whatever the crap she is, has been bringing him to work and picking him up, bringing his "go juice" (her words, not mine) when he forgets it, etc. Are you allowed to openly have a girlfriend when you're living with someone?

Then yesterday, Thelma dropped the bomb. She said that Barbie doll Baby Mama had come inside to bring him his cellphone when he'd left it at home and it was VERY obvious that she was...

PREGGERS!!!!!

WHAT THE CRAP??? Now we're all like.. when did they have that spat and break up? HOW MANY MONTHS AGO???? I don't remember if I told ya'll, but I came back from lunch one Friday when it was just me, Peppermint Twatwaffle and The Groper working, only he hadn't come back from lunch. He'd called and said he was in the middle of a fight with Barbie doll BabyMama's man in the middle of the highway, waiting for the law to show up. He wanted to know if Peppermint Twatwaffle was going to come bail him out of jail. Apparently BabyMama had left him and was shacking up with a new man, but about a month after the spat she'd moved back home.

OMG WHO'S THE BABY DADDY?????? SOMEONE GET MAURY POVICH ON THE PHONE!!!

I mean, if it's his, why would he be suddenly having to find a new girlfriend? SWEET LORD, THE DRAMA!!!

Anywho....

Ya'll chew on that. I'll keep you posted. And now, your complimentary kitten video.




Excuse the messy floor. This is the bathroom that was covered in a sea of laundry up until last weekend. Grimm is usually confined to The Amazon's room when she's not home. He's not quite old enough to fend for himself with the dogs and Kitty Kitty Two by Four. I let him out to romp, supervised, when I first got home this evening. He went wide open like this for over two hours. He's about 10 weeks old here.

Later Taters!!
 **

Winchester The Bunny

Bunny Update (because I'm totally gonna be the crazy bunny lady:)

Winchester is chillin' in a dog crate next to the bunny run. He seems excited to see Reginald and Reggie's been laying next to where the crate is. There has been some sniffing. Winchester is confined to the crate until he gets neutered on Thursday and a few days recovery time. In the meantime, I'm rearranging the porch and lining the railing with chicken wire so that when the time comes, they can have a safe place to get to know each other without the nosey pups. For the time being, I've got a section of plastic picket fence over the entrance to the steps and ramp, to eventually be replaced with walk through doggie gates from World O'Wally.

The listing for Winchester said he was an English Lop mix, but he doesn't have long ears. The lady at the shelter said they thought he was part Flemish Giant because of his coloring, but he's not very big, even for four months. He looks like the wild bunnies, descendants of Pocco, that frolic in the yard.

All of that aside, he loves snuggles and will curl up under your neck for as long as you'll hold him and that's all that matters to me.

I need more snuggles in my life. **

Of Pits and Manberries

It's a beautiful day Frog Pond Holler. The air is crisp and the sun is shining bright, reflecting the glistening moisture remaining from last night's rain off the fresh, new grass. The aroma of cut lawns, burning brush piles and just a hint of unwashed hiker armpit, wafts gently on the breeze.

Spring has sprung.

In other news, I got my federal refund the other day. A great rejoicing could be heard from inside my little trailer down in the holler. The first thing I did? Made an appointment for the bunnies to get a little snip-snip, because even though they are both male, yet have never fought and I don't have a female around to worry about them gettin' in the family way, being male? SWEET JEHOVAH THEY PEE ON EVERYTHING. They pee on the walls of their hutch, on my porch, ON EACH OTHER. I hope this helps. Hell, they even managed to pee on the CEILING of their hutch. 

HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?????

So tomorrow morning I get to load them up in a giant plastic storage bin (because really, how else am I going to haul to ginormous rabbits to the vet?) that has a big hole cut in the top, which, in true hillbilly style, I will cover with some chicken wire and duct tape. 

The box has a hole because it was originally a Pinterest DIY project for a better cat litter box. A project in which Kitty refused to participate. Apparently she does not know the value of being a team player. 

I guess tonight, since I'm off from the jammy job, which, by the way has turned in to cramming 15 hours work in on Saturday and Sunday because the most I can get now during the week is an hour, I'll try to get the bunnies cleaned up and brushed a little so they don't look like dirty little orphans at the vet tomorrow. 

There is lots more going on, lots of projects I've got going including painting, repairing, chickens, pygmy goats and all kindsa crap. I'm planning before and after posts, which I'm sure will be the most boring posts ever, unless of course I impale myself with a power tool or get flogged or somechit. 

Which is more likely than not.

Anywho... 

Sparkles is out on sales calls so I'm unsupervised and practicing my sales ninja skizzles, so I'd better get to it. 

Ya'll have an awesome day. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!

At Least There's Ice Cream

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

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

Until Sunday.

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

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

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

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

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

In the meantime...

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

I finally said effit and went to bed.

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

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

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

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

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

Later Taters!

Of Bunny Fluff, Shady Pines and Trying to Get it Together

Kitteh Kitteh Two By Four

Lawd have mercy. It's Friday.. we made it.

It's been a wacky week in Mahalaville. Luckily there's been a lull in hours at the jammie job, giving me a chance to catch my breath. I say luckily until I get my check.. but anywho...

I sold two bags of "Little Bunny Poo-Poo" and an ounce of Angora fiber, which is awesome. Sparkles and Peppermint Patty were totally grossed out but they'll get over it. I told Sparkles that it simply proves that I am a marketing genius.

So then yesterday I got a call from Shady Pines saying they were going to sit Ma out on the curb if they didn't get a check and I was all like.. "oh shit" because I've not paid the bill in some months.

Not because of the money, it was just sitting there in Ma's checking account. I just hadn't thought about it.

I've been having problems keeping up with things lately. Let's just say I'm behind.. on life.

Today I did manage to mail my federal and state taxes (finally,) the order for bunny fluff and a check to Shady Pines. I've almost got my truck payment caught back up from the whole brake line brouhaha and my bedroom is starting to look a little more "Victorian-Gypsy-Shabby Chic" and a little less "Extreme Hoarders-Special Report with Diane Sawyer".

Maybe I'll get my shit together.. eventually.

I'm looking forward to the weekend. I have to hit the road early tomorrow and head to the weirdo eye doc to pick up my new glasses. My prescription didn't change from last year, but I took some old frames to have some computer specs made. My bifocals are about as useful as a chicken with a chainsaw when I'm working either job.

After I pick up my specs, I'm going to run by the nail salon, try NOT to stop and coo over baby chicks and ducklings at the farm supply place and head home for a fun filled weekend of housework and laundry.

It's an exciting life I lead here in the holler. I can't hardly stand it.

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

Later Taters!!

Spring is a Lie

Sammy said spring is a lie and he's not coming out until he sees me hook up the AC.

Bunzillas in the Mist.

Cicero: A Hot Mess
This is what an ungroomed English Angora with a bad hair cut cuz his bother peed on him looks like. 

The bunnies will be a year old in April, I've had them six months now. Prior to coming to live in the holler with the other assorted critters, the brothers spent most, if not all, of their time in a small wire cage housed in the corner of the barn, under another wire cage containing a ginormo hussy of a Flemish Giant. The woman we bought them from seemed nice enough and I'm sure she loved her critters, but I don't think they got much one on one time. 

The first time The Amazon cradled sweet little Reginald in her arms, he growled at her. Bunny growls are serious business. And kind of cute.

I know they'd never been combed out before. The bunny lady clipped them down pretty close before we picked them up that night, after we took the scenic route in the wrong direction through the hillbilly back country. 

I made the decision to get angora bunnies after seeing their fluff for sale on Etsy. I didn't get bunnies just for that purpose, but I thought it would be neat to produce fiber. I entertained the thought of learning to spin it myself, before I took on the second job and suddenly found myself having to schedule pee time in to my evening shifts. The Amazon bought one of those spinny spindley hickies, but she's not been home much to do much artsy fartsy craft crap.

Anywho, the last six months I've been tackling the combined challenge of making friends with, as T.A. calls them, "The Sirs," while also trying to get them used to being manhandled, combed, brushed and snuggled against their will. 

I watched a lot of online videos on rabbit grooming, horrified by the number of them which suggested HOG TYING the little critters, stretched out like they're on a BBQ spit. 

Oh hell to the no. I don't think so.

I have to admit, they still don't exactly volunteer to be picked up. I think that's just a rabbit thing. I bring them in on the weekends and they have the run of the house. I put their blanket down with a litter box and they chase Yoda around. I watch close to make sure everyone plays nice, but I'm not too worried. I think the cat is afraid of them and Sammy doesn't care about anything as long as it lets him sleep. They kind of hang around wherever I am, as long as I don't make any sudden moves or act like I'm going for the comb. 

The angora boys are completely different from Lola the lop who used to hop in my lap and try to steal my banana every morning at breakfast and who used to go flip out and tear around the RV without warning like she was on crack. Reginald and Cicero kinda lumber around, occasionally chasing each other and trying to get their hump on. 

They are bunnies. 

I'd given up on ever having a cuddly, love bunny relationship with The Sirs. They just weren't in to it and seemed content to lay around the floor offering little or no interaction with me. 

But this weekend, there was a glimmer of hope.

First, I was combing Reginald on the bed so I could watch Netflix while I worked. The satellite is temporarily non-functioning. T.V. didn't make the priority bill list this month. 

Anyhooter, I have to stop a lot when I'm combing Reginald because if I don't he turns in to a teeth grinding wiggle worm. I'm sure there's another term for it, but I just think he's a brat and doesn't like to sit still for very long. I was letting him take a break and hop around on the bed when he found a spot under the ceiling fan and sprawled out like Al Bundy. 

It was a particularly warm weekend. 

After a while I finished combing him and set him down in the floor while I went in search of his brother. Upon my return to the bedroom, I discovered Reginald back on the bed, having reclaimed his turf and resumed his "I am male, this spot is mine, don't make me pee on it" position. Sammy, the Boston Baked Beagle had moved to the grooming blanket, demanding that his five hairs be brushed, so I did his hair up a little while Reginald lounged and Cicero waited patiently under my left arm. 

I was amazed that Reginald was not only content to grace me with his presence, but did so voluntarily.

It was a bunny breakthrough. I felt like Jane Goodall.. you know.. the gorilla lady. 

BUT THEN...

After both buns had their hair did, I took them back to the living room and plopped them down on their blanket while I returned to the bedroom to watch a movie about a bounty hunter. I wasn't too concerned, I can sorta see into the living room from the bed and all the other animals were piled up there with me. After a few minutes I heard the muffled thump of bunny feet coming down the hall. I peeked through the doorway and saw Cicero easing towards the bedroom. 

"I see you sneaking up on me Sissyboy."

He turned and hauled bunny butt back to the living room. A minute or so later, I heard him again. I looked out into the hallway and watched him come closer.

"I seeeeee youuuu Cicero."

Again, he turned and hopped back to the kitchen.

When I heard his approach the third time, I decided to ignore him and see what he'd do. I watched him out of the corner of my eye and saw that this time, he'd brought reinforcements. Reginald was bringing up the rear. They hopped towards my doorway, Cicero hopping a couple of feet then stopping, watching me. I pretended I didn't see them, he inched closer. I waited, he came all the way up to the edge of the carpet. I peeked around the door at him. 

"I seeeee youu."

He turned and hopped down the hall like a giggling toddler. At least, that's how I heard it in my head. 

The bunnies were playing with me. They kept it up for a while. It was like when you start playing fetch with a ball obsessed dog and later regret it when they won't let you stop. 

IT'S LIKE I'M THE WABBIT WHISPERER.

And this? This is what happens when you go without sex for too long. You become an old woman playing with her bunnies on Sunday afternoon and it's the COOLEST THING in your life at that moment. 

There are worse ways to end up I guess. 

Ya'll take care, we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!!

 

Mr. Sparkles, Moonlighting and Bunny Rabbits

It's colder than penguin snot in the holler this morning. My desktop thingie says it's 42° but I think it's lying.

Here at The Asylum, everyone's flittering around, rearranging furniture and whispering in preparation for the return of Mr. Sparkles. Rumor has it that he'll be coming back to work at the end of the month, taking a position in the engineering department. Jabba is not a happy camper. Neither is The Groper. Jasper has been right in there whining with them, although I don't see how it affects him. I think he just likes jumping on the bandwagon.

I'm not sure how Bossholio feels about them re-hiring the former sales manager. It has to make him a little nervous.

Meanwhile, my job outlook has improved. At the office business has picked up, I booked nearly 40K yesterday. I'm doing more work with one day less a week, but it's okay. I'd rather be busy than sitting here picking my nose all day. Also, I got a "you're officially hired.. almost" email from the part time work-at-home place. All I need now is to pass the background check, then I'm home free. Before I came to work at The Asylum, I was a bank teller over in Scary Hillbilly Town. I had to be bonded for that position and I've not had any excitement in my life since then, so I should be good to go.

Keep your fingers crossed.

Back at the trailer, the bunnies are settling in. Cicero (Lulu calls him Igor, because he's sorta lopsided,) doesn't put up a fuss being handled anymore. He scootches against me and chills out in my lap while I brush him. He is a cuddle bunny. Reginald, on the other hand, seems to think I'm going to eat him. He does okay for a minute or two, then he gets all panicky. I know they'd never been brushed before I got them, but for the most part we've gotten their coats in shape. The wool on their little tummies, however, is all pilled up and they do NOT like their tummies touched. I think me and The Amazon are going to have to team up on them and have one hold the bunny while the other tries to clip the hair. A brush ain't gonna do it. Maybe if we start over from scratch, by the time it grows out they will be a little better about their tummies being groomed.

They have an extension built on to their hutch now, so they can run amok unattended. It's covered so I don't have to worry about something trying to get them. There was a little Redneck engineering involved with some  zip ties.

I love me some zip ties.

Anywho, it's humpday ya'll. Hump it hard or don't hump it at all.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!

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Horses and Bunnies and Melon Heads, Oh My!

See more pictures from the fair here.

It's cold and icky in the holler, a huge contrast from the sunny weather we had yesterday, when I took advantage of my extra day off and went to the county fair. There wasn't much to it,  barely worth the $2 admission fee. I did see a BUNCH of draft horses though, ya'll know how much I love me some hairy hooved horse critters.

Aside from loafing around amongst the hill folk, I hauled some stuff to the dump, where the dump dude dropped a metal cabinet on my head, barely missing my fabulous bling-bling shades (I'm fine.. no really) and took a load to the community thrift store.

I keep hauling stuff out and yet, the pile doesn't seem to get any smaller.

Our front porch is starting to look more like a place to kick back and relax and less like the overflow in a hoarders wet dream. While I was out there, I devised a plan to enlarge the bunny romping area using the screen door that separates my bedroom from my bathroom. Currently it serves no purpose other than tempting Ayla to ram her head through it.

God made sure I adopted that melon head from the pound because I'm positive anyone with any sense would have killed her by now.

I won't be doing any door moving today, however. My legs are all like, "Oh. Mah. Gawd. Bitch sit yo ass down. YOU ARE OLD," (said with an accent reminiscent of John Leguizamo in "Too Wong Foo," because all my body parts have foreign accents.) Most of what I've accomplished today, I've done on my butt, like sitting out on the porch with the bunny hutch open, trying to bribe them with parsley to like me the most. I've also been cussing, clicking and banging my head into the wall, attempting to teach myself Gimp. I had a bootleg copy of that other super expensive photo editing software on my other computer, but it's out in the girl cave and I need business cards and nail oil labels.

I could save myself a lot of heartache and bad nerves if I'd get off my lazy ass and go fetch the other computer, but sometimes the lazy outweighs the common sense.

I reckon things are looking up on the financial front. I got an email from one of the eleventy billion work-at-home customer service jobs I had applied for. My tax forms have been notarized and faxed, now I'm just waiting to pass the background check. I'm not sure how much of a criminal you have to be to flunk, but I'd say I've got a decent chance of making it through okay. I think I was bonded when I worked at the bank and I've not shacked up with any more ex con drug dealers since then.

So we're good.

Anywho...

I'm going to go piddle some more, maybe take a nap in front of the bewb tube. Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

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Reginald and Cicero

I was going to write about how a certain credit card company is a big fat winky hole, but I don't want to think about it anymore, so I give you... BUNNIES!!!

Most of you  know that my sweet Lola B. died a couple of weeks ago. It was all my fault, an unfortunate accident, the guilt for which still stabs my gut whenever I think about it. Cicero and Reginald joined our menagerie about a week ago. They are not high dollar pedigree show stock like Lola, nor are they particularly fond of people. I don't think they've been handled much in their five months, but they're slowly warming up to us.

For the record? BOYS PEE EVERYWHERE.

Anywho...

Enjoy. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!
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Deep Down In It

It's rainy and blah in Frog Pond Holler today, which is okie-fine by me. I have no plans to leave the house. Lola B. is running amok in the master bath (I still can't call it my bathroom.. or my bedroom, working on that) tossing bottle caps in the air them hopping away from them with wild abandon when they hit the floor. She's like a little bunny bomb squad. Ayla is outside, laying upside down in her dog house, all you can see is her legs up in the air, kinda spread eagle, airing her bits. She won't come in, she's pouting because I put her back outside at the butt crack of dawn so I could go back to sleep for a little while. I call her to come back in and she just glares at me.

 You can't leave her unattended once she's up. She's a big, hairy toddler with ADD. With the other dogs, I just bribe them to come snooze with me, but Ayla isn't allowed in the bedroom anymore. She's discovered that if she aims just right, she can plow head first through the hardware mesh reinforced screen door and scare the living bejeezus out of Lola, a trick she's performed about three times so far.

I honestly don't think she'd intentionally hurt her, she just stands there and cries and tap dances when she sees her, but she's so big and hyper and you can scare a bunny to death.

The other two old man pups don't pay the bunny any mind. The cat couldn't care less.

My number one priority right now is finding a second source of income. I've applied to about five different "work at home" customer service places. One is a concierge service, where travelers call in for information on restaurants, nearest entertainment, etc. It's like you're their private Googler. Or Garcia on "Criminal Minds," without the sexy FBI agents calling you babyguuurl.  I'm not sure if I'll qualify for that one though. While they require a minimum of a G.E.D., they'd prefer someone with a degree. (Really? To look shit up on Google? Yes really.) The others are general customer service entry level positions. They pay the minimum wage for your state for training, then start at around $9 an hour, depending on the client you work for. They all offer incentive bonus' and the only one I've interviewed for so far has had insurance, paid time off and 401K for full time employees. Unfortunately, they didn't have any part time hours available.

Oh yeah, and I accidentally hung up in the middle of the interview. It was a conference call with 10 applicants and when it was my turn to give my little 2 minute speech on why I'd be a super duper customer service chicky, I hit the wrong button. Luckily, we were logged on in chat too, so I swallowed my pride and asked for the number again. I was given another chance and when it was all said and done, they said I was in and offered me a job, but I had to turn it down because of the hours.

In the meantime, I've been doing HIT work (human intelligence tasks) on Amazon Mechanical Turks. A good paying HIT pays about a nickel each for short tasks that take a minute or less to complete. You have to sit at your computer and beat hell out of your keyboard and mouse for an hour to come even close to minimum wage, but it's something. Last night I did 100 transcriptions of 10 second audio clips of Madame SomeFlakeyShit doing a trance reading. She talked really slow, so I lucked out.

I swore I'd never do those again, but I'm desperate. I had to suck $10 our of my savings the other day to make up the difference in checking to make the house payment and it's still another week till payday rolls around again. So, the remaining $13 in savings is all I have. Period.

I'm not worried, I know I'll find something and we have plenty of food in the house and gas in the truck.. if I don't go anywhere but to work.. to last. The Amazon is stressing out I think, but she's young and life is still kinda scary. I'm used to scraping by and I'll make it. She'll see that it all works out in the end. You just gotta keep swimming.

This might sound weird, but there's a sense of accomplishment when you've gotten through a particularly tight time unscathed. It's like... Survivor: Trailer Trash Island! When you've only got odds and ends in the pantry, it's an opportunity to go on the innerwebs and find new recipes. It's when you really learn to prioritize and get your ducks in a row. Everyone should have to make a tight squeeze ever so often. That's when the good stuff rises to the top.

Look at that. I was all deep and crap. See?

Heh.

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

Later Taters!!

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

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

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

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

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

This? Is RIGHT in front of our house.

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

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

Anywho...

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

(I totally sound like an infomercial)

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

*sniffle*

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

Something mystical, Gypsy, catchy..

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

Later Taters!

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Ernest The Drunken Snake Slayer

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

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

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

No chit. Ernest goes The Holler.

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

I love my neighbors.

In other news...

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

This isn't going to end well.

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

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

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

Meanwhile, back at the trailer...

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

Clearly we need more room.

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

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

So there ya go. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Sound like a plan?

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

I always do.

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

Later Taters!!

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