5 Reasons to Refill Your Anxiety Medication

Current Mood.
What the hell is this? I don't know. I took it in an antique shop.

Hey ya'll. I was just sitting here thinking about the state of the world, making my head spin. Watching the news blurbs is like the opening scene from an apocalyptic horror film.

Is it real? Have I finally gone over the edge? Is this the world we're living in?

If you're feeling the stress of world, or hell, right here in the good old USA events, check out my list of reasons you'd better keep your meds at arms reach.

1. The Presidential Election

Seriously? There's a possibility that Donald Trump could be the next Commander in Chief? If that's not enough to cause chest pain and hyperventilation, I don't know what is. And Hillary? Sorry but, I wouldn't trust her with a bucket of water if my britches were on fire.

Here's the thing. There's a part of my brain that thinks this shit is SO ridiculous that there has to be some other explanation other than these two jokers are the best we can do.

Put on your Reynolds Wrap hunting cap and bear with me.

I know this is out there, but I wouldn't be surprised to find that the Clintons had offered Trump some ungodly amount of money to run against Hillary, not realizing the American people were fed up to their chin hairs with the political establishment and that they'd actually vote for him. Trump, on the other hand, probably just saw a way to get on t.v. and act a fool, which he does so well, and make some easy money.

Just look at his face now. He is PETRIFIED that he may really have to be president.

Yes, I'll vote. But I'm writing in Bernie, which to some means not voting at all, but ya know, you gotta follow your gut.

2. Police Shooting People For No Effin' Reason

Another day in the USA, another black man gunned down by the police.

First, let me say that the town I live in has one full time cop and one part time. We don't have a huge crime problem here in The Holler. It's mostly just meth heads hanging out in front of the post office and the town hooker sitting up at the civil war monument so she can catch the traffic coming from Tennessee.

Growing up, however, I lived in a very culturally diverse city and I'm not unfamiliar with racial tensions and how they dangerous they can be.

If I were a police officer who had been trained to fire my weapon at a training facility that illustrated the targets using the faces of young black men and I knew that in light of current firearm controls, potentially anyone I came in to contact with could be armed, I might be more inclined to discharge my weapon before I was sure there was a threat.

Just sayin'.

I don't believe all cops are racist, no more than all Hillfolk are ignorant and inbred (all though I might be.. a little bit.) I DO believe that there is an atmosphere of kill or be killed, rather than to protect and serve, cultivated within an increasing number of departments. We must look to the governing bodies of our police forces for answers, the persons responsible for the hiring and training of the flawed law enforcement officers that continue to cast a shadow of fear, distrust and death on all Americans.

Damn ya'll. That was deep as shit.

3. Brexit

Hey U.K. What the hell are ya'll smoking over there? It's not the fact that some of ya'll voted to leave the  EU, I get that. It's that after the votes were in, half ya'll were walking around all shocked and awed because you didn't realize that voting to leave the EU would mean YOU'D ACTUALLY LEAVE THE EU.

Now there are petitions to put a stop to exit, stage right.

YOU DON'T GET A DO OVER. THAT'S NOT HOW VOTING WORKS.

If it did, we'd never settle on a government official. Ever.

Since the vote, I've seen an ever growing number of stories of racism and violence over yonder. It breaks my heart. So much hate in the world.. and it's spreading from pole to pole and round and round.

Look. Everybody just wants a better life for themselves and their family. They don't want your job. They're not coming to steal your daughters. All most people want is just peace. To live their life. To be happy. Why is that so hard?

4. Babies Getting Shot 

Ya'll know I have personal reasons for being on my soapbox about this. Rarely does a day go by that I don't hear of it happening again and every damned time, I relive that night. For the love of all that's Holy, if you must have a gun in your home, please keep it secure. I don't care if you don't have kids, someone who visits may. I don't care if your kids understand gun safety, their friends might not.

There are so many dangers out there for our babies. Traffic accidents, animal attacks, deadly allergies, drownings, but a toddler's death by gunshot? Totally and completely avoidable. I didn't study the statistics, this ain't the Washington Post, but I'd bet money that more children are shot by handguns than people breaking in to your house.

We have a gun. It was Ma's, she always had guns. It's unloaded, in a box, taped up, with the ammo in a drawer. I don't even know what it looks like. T.A. took it from Ma one night when she had it out to show the police during one of her crazy spells. If someone tries to come in on me, I have no intention of looking for that gun. I have a baseball bat, a butcher knife and an 80lb hellhound lookin' dog that likes to eat hikers.

I'll take my chances.

5. Morons Treating Women and Girls Like Property

This is another one that sets my anxiety off every time, probably because of my effed up childhood at the hands (literally) of dear old dad.

It's African girls who endure genital mutilation as a "rite of passage," at the hands of their elders. Women in India who are stoned to death or disfigured with acid for dishonoring their family by being raped. It's religious fanatics, holed up in compounds in the Untied States, promising their 12 year old daughters to their 50 year old cousins in marriage, to act as broodmares.

It's when girls are abused, and they tell, and they're blamed for the abuse.

It's all of those things.

Have we really evolved at all? Once blinds are closed and no one's looking, do we devolve back to the predator mentality?

Everything is broken. Hand me my pills, because I don't know how to fix it all.

Later Taters.

P.S. I realize some of you may have views that differ from mine. That's cool,  I still love all ya'll. Let me know what you think in the comments below. Just please keep it respectful. 

I Need Anger Management

Lord ya'll. This lookin' for a job bullshit is about to kill me. In the past week, I've done two interviews, uploaded, downloaded, speed tested, brain tested, answered questions and been rejected three times.

The first was for the Wallyworld website. I made it as far as the second interview there before I got tossed aside. 

I don't know why.

 The next was for Frontier, who actually offered me a position, but because my upload speed is limited to .85 milli doohickeys or whatever, and can't make the minimum of 1. milli doohickey, I got rejected. 

Did I mention that Frontier is my actual ISP provider? I called them and asked if they couldn't do something on their end because I was going to lose a job opportunity.. WORKING FOR THEM.. because I had sucky internet service. "Jim" basically told me that naw, not in The Holler. That's as fast as you're gonna get. 

Ain't that just sucktastic. There are third world countries with faster internet than we can get in Frog Pond Holler. 

So today, I had another email from another company I'd applied to. They were "excited" about my resume! I went to their website and checked their internet requirements. My speeds were triple what they required. 

Awesome!

Of course they sent me to a website to test my computer connection, software, memory and all that jazzola, but I was confident because I had MADE SURE my computer was up to snuff. I clicked that "GO" button and sat back as the website worked it's magic. There were about 20 different things that they tested for. My computer and connection passed 19 of them.

Do you know WHY my computer didn't pass? DO YOU?

Because it's more than 6 years old.

AIN'T THAT SOME SHIT??????? Isn't that like... AGE DISCRIMINATION????

I finally just threw my hands up, hauled out the trash and cooked dinner. Then I sat on the couch with my spaghetti and played Solitaire on my phone. My brain needs to regroup. 

Also, since I'm bitching anyway, I'm in pain. My joints have gone all Rice Krispie because I've been without drugs for over a month. And every time my thumbs pop or my knee jerks the wrong way, I get pissed. Pissed off that for a few short months, I HAD good insurance. I HAD decent pay.

Then I think of sitting in that Pillsbury Doughboy looking mother fecker's office while he told me that while he wasn't saying I didn't have any skills, they just weren't the skills needed to perform my job the way they wanted it done... that I may have skills that might be useful to SOMEONE. 

And then?

Then I want to get in the truck, drive up there and plant my sizeable right foot up his ass, sideways, and jam it so far up that my toes are sticking out his nose. 

Because it's BULLCRAP.

I spend 80% of my time trying to talk myself out of being pissed off... and THAT pisses me off because I'm still letting that place control me.. and it needs to stop. 

While I'm on the subject, I'm still kind of hurt that the people I spent 40 hours a week with for the past 20 years can't even respond to a text message when I KNOW their phone is never more than six inches from their hand. 

Especially Lulu. I don't even try anymore. 

As for the drugs, I ordered about 3 months worth from India for about half what I'd pay for 1 month here. I've done it before, they're legit. 

Also, my blood sugar has been all kittywampus. Like.. ridiculously high. I could sit here and say I take my medicine and eat right, blah blah blah... and I don't know what the deal is, but that would be a lie. 

It's high because there's a half a sack of off brand Coco Krispies in the cabinet. 

So yeah, that's on me. 

I stress, I eat. I didn't get this voluptuous bootay munching on cucumbers.

Anywho...  I just needed to vent. I feel better already.

Ya'll have a good one and hang in there, it's almost the weekend.

Later Taters!

End of Times

Have you noticed that society seems obsessed with the end of civilization?

Historically, there have always been people claiming the end was near, that we needed to get our sins in check and prepare for the end of the world, but this is something different.

I find myself obsessed with every t.v. show involving a catastrophic blow to society, whether it be a global zombie infestation, bird flu epidemic or natural disaster. The common thread with all theses scenarios, is a breakdown of societal structures, leaving behind a livable earth and enough survivors to start over.

But why? I started to wonder if I had some weird mental disorder, a morbid obsession with mass destruction. Then I realized, it's not just me. The end of the world is big business right now. You can find countless books written by survivalists, freeze dried foods by the 5 gallon bucket, even information on home defense for those who want to start construction on their fortified compound.

I think I know why.

You need only look around you. On the news, politicians are performing like circus clowns, twirling about to the calliope, willing to say or do anything, as long as they can keep the spotlight on them.

On social media, people are arguing over which bathroom other people should use, conjuring up images of masked pedophiles lurking in the next stall, waiting to peek at Little Precious. They're threatening boycotts, organizing campaigns and creating an atmosphere of hatred, all because some of those circus clowns triggered their mama bear instincts with imagined threats to their cubs.

Families are struggling to survive, no matter how hard they work, basic needs aren't met.

Nothing makes sense.

In this age of technology, what is the one thing you do when your device goes kittywampus?

You hit the reset button. Turn it off, turn it back on.

The world needs a reset button. Tear it down and start over. That's why we love shows like The Walking Dead .

When there is no money, the rich have no power. When you're taking a dump out in the woods, using poison oak for toilet paper, it no longer matters what sex you are. If there's no electricity, there aren't circus clowns screaming at us, "Listen to me or your child will die!!!!"

Don't get me wrong. I'd never make it without civilization. Just come by my house when the internet's been down for an hour. It's not a pretty sight. As for killing zombies, I gross out if I have to touch dirty dish water. I'm pretty sure the level of anxiety I'd have after scraping twice-dead zombie guts off the floor would be catastrophic.

I'm hopeful, but not very, that it doesn't come to that. In the meantime, I'm trying to stay away from national news. It messes with my happy place. I'd rather watch hunky men and bad-ass women stab the undead between the eyes.. or goopy eye sockets.. whatever.

Anywho... we'll talk again soon, kay? Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

A Word on The Weiner Conspiracy

Anthony Weiner can't be real.

This whole stupid, winky texting brouhaha reminds me of one of those conspiracy theory movies, where someone in the government plants someone ridiculously outrageous in the media to draw attention away from something else.

He flashed his bits and his name is WEINER???? CARLOS DANGER????

WAKE UP PEOPLE AND SMELL THE SKUNK WEED!!!

What are they hiding? Why are they redirecting our attention? NO ONE CAN BE THIS CLUELESS!

He's probably an actor, it's the only logical explanation.  I mean.. has anyone seen this guy lately?

That's right. Pauly Shore, star of hits like Bio-Dome and Son-In-Law, aka The Wiesel. Here's a more recent picture:

And now.. Anthony Weiner:

I rest my case America. You are welcome.

The World's Gone Mad

I don't know if it's the influence of watching too much "when civilization as we know it ends" tv shows, spending too much time alone with the bunnies or just the general lack of physical contact in my life finally effecting me mentally, but don't the news broadcasts this week sound an awful lot like the opening scene of a post apocalyptic movie?

The angry little garden gnome in North Korea is strutting around like a chihuahua with a hambone, explosions rocking the Boston Marathon, West, Texas (in East Texas, by the way) pretty much just blows up and ricin poisoned letters showing up at the White House.

We're not even going to discuss the bird flu outbreak in China.

Maybe it did all start back in December. I'm starting to wonder.

I'm seriously considering buying more duct tape, plastic sheeting and bottled water for when the zombies come and we have to hole up in our houses. And salt to line the windows and doors.. just in case demons come bubbling up from hell.

And where the crap is a girl supposed to get a jug of Holy water when the ONLY Catholic priest in town sold the property to a B and B?

I'm only half joking.

Stay safe ya'll.

Later Taters!

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!

Tweet Pin It

Courthouse Hippies, Refurbished Airstreams and Rice Crispies

Created with flickr slideshow.

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

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

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

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

But anywho.. that was my Monday.

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

I swear.

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

BUT SERIOUSLY????

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't feel like going."

*blink*

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

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

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

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

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

I want this so bad I can taste it:

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

And it's so me.

The orange would have to go though.

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

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

RiRi Nibblett and The Burning Ring of Fire

When The Amazon was in middle school, she had this friend named RiRi Nibblett. RiRi's family lived out in the country (that's what we call that stretch of rural landscape between town and the state line) at the end of a dirt road somewhere back in a quiet holler. Her dad, JonJon Nibblett was well known around town, barely five feet tall, always wreaking of cheap beer and wearing an oversized straw cowboy hat that made him look like the old sleeping Mexican stereotype.

RiRi was an odd youngin, but I always figured it was due to her being raised by her dad with the only female influence in her life her emotionless stepmother who had little or nothing to do with her. I don't remember what happened to her mama, if she died or ran off, I just know she wasn't around.

I first met RiRi when T.A. brought her home to spend the night. She wasn't very tall, a little pudgy, with mousy brown hair and a mouth that would wake the dead. She belched, farted and stated her opinions on various subjects freely. She had no mental filter, no inside voice, no couth whatsoever. When I offered her some Mountain Dew to drink, she hollered with an air of authority, "Law no! I ain't drinkin' no Mountain Dew cuz I heared it kills your sperm."

Mountain Dew Throwback Cans (12 Count, 12 Fl Oz Each)

I really don't know about the sperm thing. Drink responsibly.

I tried to delicately explain to RiRi that while I was pretty sure sperm wouldn't be harmed by a glass of Dew, she had nothing to fear, being a girl and sperm free. I could tell from the look on her face that she didn't believe me.

The Nibbletts made the Big City news a couple of times. Some families seem to attract drama like horseflies to a pile of mule scat.

The first time, a man rumored to be a drifter from somewhere up north was staying with the Nibbletts, working for JonJon. Personally, I think it was the convict RiRi had been keeping in touch with while he finished out his prison sentence for God-Knows-What, but that's just my opinion. Anywho, in a fit of crazy, the drifter stood in the front yard of the Nibbletts' house, poured a five gallon can of gasoline over his head, then calmly lit a match and set himself ablaze, to the horror of RiRi and JonJon.

The official investigation into the incident determined his death to be a suicide, but the Frog Pond Holler rumor mill had it's own ideas. With no other witnesses besides RiRi and her pop, speculation ranged from JonJon having set the young man on fire when it was found he was messing around with one of his daughters, to RiRi herself having done it with her daddy's help.

There's no tellin' what really happened.

The second time the Nibbletts made the news, their house caught on fire. They said it was because no one had ever cleaned out the lint trap on the dryer. I don't know if it's true, but I think of them every time I put a load in the dyer, reaching in to scrape any lint from the trap that I can find.

A year or two later, RiRi vanished from Frog Pond Holler for a while. The rumor was that she'd gotten pregnant and been sent to live with relatives, others even speculating that RiRi's stepmother had sold the baby for money to buy a new washer and dryer. I don't know what was true and what wasn't, I just knew she was gone.

RiRi came back to the holler recently. I think she's still living out at the end of that dirt road, somewhere out in the country.

I hadn't really given her much thought until T.A. texted me yesterday that her friend Maddie was fixin' to go find RiRi and kick her butt. Seems Maddie's boyfriend, The Boy from South Carolina, admitted to doin' the nasty with RiRi while parkin' in the family cemetery. That alone would be bad enough, but Maddie and The Boy had been planning their wedding for early next year.

Personally I'd like to take a tire iron to The Boy's cranial region, especially after he used the "I couldn't help it" excuse. That doesn't say much for his machismo. When T.A. told me that her, Maddie and The Boy's mother had to plan an intervention to discuss his personal hygiene issues so that he could maybe get a job, I knew he needed to go.

These chil'ren are grown ya'll. Ain't no sense in this mess.

The last I heard, Maddie had sent the boy packing back to S.C. but I figure he'll be back in a few weeks, when RiRi comes up preggers, 'cuz that's how she rolls.

I just hope she doesn't set him on fire.

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

Later Taters!

Kevin Smith, Tiger Woods and My Opinion, Because I Know You Care

I've not had a good ol' southern fried hissy fit on current events in a while, so here are my opinions on the latest:

Tiger Woods- Do we really need a press conference? He's a GOLFER for God's sake, who cheated on his wife.. ALOT. We all know he's not sorry for cheating, he's just trying to save what's left of his reputation and wishing he never got caught. He's worried about endorsement contracts, not his marriage. I don't even care that he cheated, I just don't see why there has to be a big press conference when a sports personality can't keep his Wanderin' Willy in his pants.

Seriously.

The Olympics- I've watched maybe twenty minutes total. When I was younger, I'd be glued to the set, rooting for the U.S.A. I loved the ice skating, the skiing.. but now? It seems different. Too polished and flashy. I'm not entirely sure if it's the games that have changed or if it's me, but I just can't get into it.

The Snow- Can we give it a flippen rest already? It's snowing AGAIN. In the SOUTH. This ain't right ya'll.

And For the "What the Hell?" Category:

Sorry, I had to toss that in there.

My Boss- It must really suck to go through life being that blessed miserable 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It's no wonder he had a heart attack in the past. It's a shame they had to remove it. He could use one.

Jay Leno- Just. Shut. Up. You suck turtle toes. No one cares. Go away.

Kevin Smith- Southwest Airlines recently booted actor-director Kevin Smith from one of it's flights sighting his weight as a safety hazard. I've followed Mr. Smith's updates on Twitter as the story has unfolded and I've got a few thoughts on the situation. First, if this had happened to me, I would have cowered somewhere in the fetal position, crying for a week out of embarrassment. To Kevin Smith I say, give 'em hell.

Second, are there actual weight limitations? Mr. Smith was able to secure his seat belt without the aid of an extension. I thought that was the determining factor? It sounds to me like it's up to the discretion of the personnel on duty as to whether someone is "too fat to fly." Gee, catch Lucille on a bad day and she might toss Paris Hilton to the tarmac for retaining a little water.

While I'm sure I'll fly again, I can promise you I'll never set foot on a Southwest Airlines flight.

Bubbleboo- Lawd have mercy, please forgive me. Bubbleboo was so kind to bestow upon me an award:

Positive. Creative. Inspring.

 

I'm so late in accepting this award, that Bubbleboo has moved her blog since she gave it to me.

*hangs head in shame*

I always feel uncomfortable picking a few people out of the many blogs writers I admire to give awards to, so I encourage you to please check the "Brain Candy" section of my sidebar for lots of great blogs and check back often, the feed listing changes to reflect the latest postings.

And there you have it. My opinion. Because I know you care.

Later Taters!

Friends Of Maddie

I like to check a few blogs each morning when I get to the Asylum, to give the coffee time to kick in and get my blood flowing. Until recently, when I'd spot a certain Mommy Blog on my feed reader, I'd skip over everyone else and open the link, hoping for more pictures of the sweet baby girl with the huge blue eyes and incredible smile. I'd always call Lulu over to my cubicle and we'd oooo and aaaah over little Maddie Spohr.

One day in April, I sat at my desk and opened that link, looking forward to seeing that smiling face, calling Lulu over to ooo and aaaah and learned that little Maddie had left this world suddenly.

My heart was shattered. It's strange how people who don't even know you exist can become a part of your daily routine. I didn't mention it here and other than one comment, I sort of tuned it all out. Whenever I allowed myself to even think about the pain her family was going through.. well.. it was just hard.

As ya'll know, sometimes something good can be born of awful circumstances. This morning I learned about friendsofmaddie.org, a non-profit organization established to provide support to the families of critically ill babies.

It sounds like the perfect way to honor the memory of such a happy little soul. Ya'll should stop by there.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

General Motors, Ford and Chrysler, How NOT to Get a Bail Out

Last night, as I sat indian style on the couch in my black, Mexican style muumuu, eating soup beans and cornbread, I watched the heads of the big three auto manufacturers trying to justify flying to D.C. on private jets (three separate private jets) to ask for bail out money.

Did ya'll see it? Do you reckon they realized how stupefied they looked, sitting there with their deer-in-the-headlights looks? Am I supposed to have this sudden urge to hand a kabillionzillion dollars over to them, while I'm trying to figure out how to buy the fixin's for a Thanksgiving dinner, for three people, with the $28.82 I have left in my checking account?

Hey Washington, listen closely and you'll hear the country screaming a collective "WTF?"

Okay, I don't have the answers.. well not all of them anyway. I know that if something isn't done, the domino effect is going to tear through the American economy, ripping businesses up by their roots, sending unemployment soaring and basically sending us in to a suspended state of FUBAR, but a part of me feels like we have to let them fail in order to bring about change.

There has to be a middle ground. I just thank God it's not my job to figure out what that is.

But private jets? SERIOUSLY????

Maybe Toyota or Volvo will move in to the empty factories and replace some of the jobs that will be lost. I heard something about a loan program for auto manufacturers, implemented by the government, for the purpose of designing more fuel efficient, economical vehicles, but the three big guys don't want to bother with that.

Lawd have mercy, this mess has me all in a wad. Does it show?

Oh and another thing, ya'll realize that we've started something with the last bail out.. right? Now there's going to be a line all the way around Washington D.C. of companies who'd rather beg for a handout than cut back on their corporate sponsored parties and little jaunts to God only knows where.

I think I'm going to have to take up drinking again.. and possibly smoking. If the plant gets shut down, I'll be able to afford it. We all figured out we'd draw more on unemployment, based on our full-time salary than what we make working short weeks.

Anywho.. if I don't completely snap and freak the eff out before the day is over.. I'll see ya'll tomorrow. If I do snap, ya'll will see the story on CNN about the ample, hill dwellin' woman (with the bodacious tattas) who was discovered after dark, wandering naked through the streets of Washington D.C., with a big pair of pursed lips painted on her left ass cheek, carrying a big sign that reads, "BAIL THIS MOTHER HUMPERS!"

Later Taters!

P.S. See what some fellow Plurkers had to say about the bail out last night.

Or join us on Plurk to add your voice to future discussions by clicking on the widget in the sidebar.

Today

I've had a very long, very opinionated, riled up post cooking in my head all night long, but I don't want to go there today.

Why?

Because today I want to be at peace. Today I want to enjoy the pride welling up inside of me that I am an American born, southern woman who has the right to cast her vote for a citizen of mixed race, with the name Barack Hussein Obama. I want to spend the day reminding myself that it did happen, that he was elected and it wasn't a dream.

I am proud of this country and how far we've come.

I am also proud of Senator John McCain, who's speech last night revealed the man I have admired for so long, the one who, to me, seemed to have gotten lost in all the election hoopla. I saw the man who, during the last election, I heard speak and said, "If he ever runs for president, I'll vote for him."

Having said all that, I'd also like to share that I'm tired. I had to stay up and listen to the speeches last night, after which Mr. G. Bladder, who must have been a McCain supporter, decided to get all pissy, leaving me to walk the floor 'til all hours of the night.

"Nooooo.. Noooo we can't!!!" he groaned as he poked my liver.

"Hush now Mr. G.. Yes.. yes we can.. we did.. it's going to be okay," I answered.. which really ticked him off because then? He started doing the cha-cha, sending waves of flatulent revolt through my nether regions.

So yeah, I've had like.. no real rest. I'm punchy and suffering from sleep deprivation stupidity. Oh yeah and sitting at the Cubicle Asylum listening to the masses throw their hands up and preach about this country full of sinners.

Regardless of who you supported, whether you voted or not, I hope you have a kick ass day.

I'll be over here with my face submerged in my coffee cup, trying not to fall asleep.

Later Taters!

I Voted...

...but it wasn't without incident.

I started to chicken out at the last minute. I don't like going anywhere that people gather in the holler.

I sucked it up though. I thought about how I've struggled with my decision over the past few months... how I've gone back and forth.. and how I felt when I made my final decision. I wasn't going to let my social tardedness get in the way.

I've lived here for 13 years (I think) and I still feel like the Creature from Another Planet when I go anywhere that holler residents are gathered. My religion isn't theirs. My politics aren't theirs. My values, my opinions, my views of the world are all strange to them. For the most part, I keep my head down and my mouth shut.

Throughout the work day, I've listened to an Obama supporter say it's the churches that have turned everyone against him here. The "n" word was uttered, along with cries of racism. I listened to a McCain supporter say Obama has "666" tattooed on the back of his head.

I was quiet.

I listened to the menfolk talk about wanting to take Sarah Palin out on one of their yearly hunting trips to Montana. I don't have to tell ya'll where that conversation went.

I kept my mouth shut. I was going to go vote. It was my right. One way or another, I was going to be heard.

When I left the office, I headed straight for the elementary school. I walked to the door. Just outside there was a rotund man with an assortment of stickers and pamphlets sitting at a table.

"How are you this evening?" he inquired.

"Pretty good thanks," I smiled. I could do this.

"Here, let me give you some information on the judges you'll be able to vote for," he said, handing me a piece of paper. I took it from his hand and walked the four or five steps to the door. When I stopped to turn my cell phone off, I glanced at what he'd handed me.

It wasn't information on the judge's race. It was this:

I have it folded to protect my exact location, but you can clearly see that what he handed me was a sample ballot, with all the Republican candidates clearly marked. It was completed on both sides.

Regardless of who you're voting for... is this legal?

Comments welcomed. I know ya'll will keep it civil.

Religion and Politics.. Almost

Happy Monday Morning!

Let's see... where to begin? I'll just jump in with both feet, ya'll try to keep up.. kay?

There was more church drama in the holler yesterday morning. I reckon Thelma, Louise and their gang of holy rollers converged upon Lulu's congregation of self-proclaimed fuddy duddies where hootin' and a'hollerin' ensued. I'm told that at one point, Thelma jumped up in the middle of the sermon, announcing that she had a song she wanted to sing, leading her to run down the aisle between the pews, taking her place beside the young, visiting preacher and proceeding to belt one out for God.

And I've heard Thelma sing ya'll. There ain't nothing joyful about that noise.

In other news...

I spent most of my weekend curled up on the couch with the dog, crying like it was the end of the world. No idea why. It's not hormones. Nothing is wrong. Or maybe.. nothing is right. I'm still not sure. I think I just had a bad case of the blahs. Or anxiety.

Hell I don't know. Either the feeling has passed or being at work with a change of scenery is what I needed.

Anywho...

I started to write about the election, but I've back spaced over it three times. I get hateful when I discuss politics, so I'm going to let it slide. I will be voting tomorrow. Maybe when it's all over, I will be able to calmly discuss the political roller coaster ride I've been on the past two months.

Maybe.

As for now, I think I'll go for a walk around the building. Kill some time. Get some air.

Ya'll have a great one!

Later Taters!

FLDS Men, An Open Letter

I've been avoiding this topic like the plague, out of a fear of offending people, but it's time we discussed the FLDS compound in Texas, the polygamists and our government's responsibility to the children involved.

Let me get right to the point. These women and children are nothing more than cattle to these men. The women are bred, boys are used to work until they reach an age where they might want a heifer of their own, then they're sent away. The female children are kept, for breeding purposes. The more babies they pop out, the greater the monthly welfare payment. It's nothing but a big scam used to milk the welfare system with the added bonus of giving an excuse for pedophiles get their groove on with little girls under the guise of religious freedom.

To put it bluntly, it makes me want to hurl.

I watch these mothers on television saying they're "free," that their children are never abused. I guess when you've been taught since birth that it's okay for 50 year old men to have sex with children, then you wouldn't see it as abuse. That is, as long as it's okayed by the "prophet"... who happens to be in prison for two counts of being an accomplice to rape.

Until yesterday, I watched the coverage with quiet detachment. I joked about the fact that they could have cell phones but apparently weren't allowed to have tweezers, because there are some serious unibrows going on up in that compound.

But yesterday, my view changed.

Yesterday, I got pissed off.

The FLDS has set up a web page where they have cheezy little videos, pictures of the "raid," and pleas for donations to pay for the legal cost of having their children returned to them.

Excuse me.

First, you teach your children that "my kind" is evil. You brag about your ability to "bleed the beast" as you breed your women to make more little brainwashed babies, living on MY tax dollars, then you have the BALLS to ask for MORE OF MY MONEY??? To pay for your COURT APPOINTED ATTORNEYS???

Now I know why you have to control your women and keep them locked up, unable to form an original thought. It's the only way YOUR KIND can keep a woman stupid enough to put up with your ignorant, inbred ass.

As for the children, I'm sure they're having a difficult time, being away from their mothers, but I also know they're relieved. I know because I have intimate knowledge of child sexual abuse. I understand the confusion experienced when you know, deep down, that what is happening is not right, yet feeling love for the only parents you've ever known. I used to sit in school and daydream about being taken away from my father's house, spending hours fantasizing about scenarios which would make it possible for my mother to go away with me, just so it could stop. I'd work out every detail in my head, epic stories that played out in fantastical ways, making sure no one would get hurt, he could go away and Ma and I would live happily ever after.

I have always felt intense guilt and responsibility that it didn't happen that way.

So, thank God that burden has been lifted from the wee little shoulders of these children. Thank God they won't have to feel 30 years of guilt. Allow the state of Texas to take that responsibility.

To my regular readers, please excuse this little outburst. I'll be back later with news from the holler, a meme or two and my regular abnormalcy.

To the leaders of the FLDS, there's a special place in hell just for you.

Coming to a Theater Near You

When we first meet our heroine, she's sitting on the sofa, a dog sleeping in her lap, as she switches channels on the television.

We see the pope giving mass while the voice of a newscaster reports that His Holiness has met with victims of the sexual abuse scandal. On another network we witness a taxi cab bursting in to flames in front of St. Patricks Cathedral in New York, where the pope will be visiting. They can find no evidence of foul play. They decide it's "just a vehicle fire."

Visibly disturbed by the story, our heroine aims the remote at her set, stopping when she sees a gathering of tearless, robotic women in matching prairie garb accusing the government of religious persecution. Their children have been removed under charges that the girls are being forced into marriage and childbirth when they've barely reached puberty. The blank stares of the women, the lack of any original thought, the inability to answer any question they've not rehearsed just adds to the creepiness of it all.

Have you ever felt you were IN the opening of a Revelations-esque movie about the impending end of society?

If you listen closely, you can just hear the hooves of four horses beating against the clouds of the darkening sky...

Bernie Peng, Child Perfume and the Marsh Tacky

Let's talk about something other than my wackydoo co-workers for a change, kay? They've all lost their fool minds and I'd rather not think about it anymore than I have to.

Scouring the news, digging through all the tax filing deadline articles, the mortgage crisis and the rising cost of every damned thing in existence, I finally found something to smile about.

Techno-Geek Bernie Peng spent a month reprogramming his girlfriend's Bejeweled game so that a ring and a marriage proposal would pop up on the screen when she reached a set score.

Luckily, girlfriend Tammy Li rocks out on Bejeweled and hit the mark.

She said yes.

I don't care who ya are, that's just friggen cool as crap.

Moving on...

WTF is "Child Perfume?" Sounds creepy. I bet it smells like crayons and wet wipes. Or peanuts. Little children in need of bathing always smell like roasted goobers to me.

Anywho..

As most of ya'll know, I grew up in Virginia and although I've never visited personally, I always heard stories about the ponies of Assateague and Chincoteague islands. I never realized there was a South Carolina breed derived from the same Spanish stock, the Marsh Tacky horse. Apparently they're endangered, with only about 150 left roaming the shores of S.C.

I always considered myself to be one of those horsey types or at least a horsey type wannabe. I've never owned one, but I took riding lessons growing up (oh yeah, Western Pleasure..add that to my nerditude,) subscribed to Horse Illustrated and wore dorktastic cowboy boots for much of my adolescence.

Hey.. it was the 80's.. no one noticed.

Although I had what I thought was a great deal of knowledge of all things equestrian (just in case God ever gave me that pony I kept praying for. I wanted to be prepared,) I'm pretty sure I've never heard of the Marsh Tacky.

So there ya go. I've got a new wrinkle in my brain. The day isn't a total wash.

In other news, I get to go to Scary Hillbilly Town tonight. I have to hit the Wally World pharmacy. I'm sure a great time will be had by all. After that, I'm taking all my Rx bottles to Walgreens and checking into that drug program I heard about.

I promise to give ya'll a full report.

I only have to work one more day this week, then I'm off for four days. It's time for some serious spring cleaning around the ol' Mahala homestead. It doesn't look like I'll be running off to anywhere exciting, so I may as well use my vacation time to get my house in order.

Anywhere is better than here.

Ya'll have a good one. Later Taters!

Dog the Bounty Hunter has Fallen

The Dog has disappointed me.

Ya'll know that I've used this space to hop on my little soap box and stand up in defence of Duane Chapman, also known as Dog Chapman or more commonly, "Dog the Bounty Hunter." I'm willing to forgive most things, I can over look errors in judgement, but one thing I can not, will not tolerate is racism in any shape or form.

The story unfolding across the internet is that The Dog was recorded during the course of a phone call with his son, Duane Lee Chapman, during which he uttered the dreaded "N" word repeatedly in reference to his son's friend and/or girlfriend.

Now we can argue from now on that it was taken out of context, that he didn't know he was being recorded ... whatever. To me, there is no excuse. It is also painfully obvious to anyone who has watched his show that the statement which was released are not the words of Chapman, but the carefully constructed spin of a very talented public relations guru.

I've read that production of the A&E show, which focuses on Chapman's business, Da Kine Bail Bonds and his associates which include his wife Beth and son Leland has been halted.

Duane "Dog" Chapman reached international attention when he traveled to Mexico and apprehended convicted rapist Andrew Luster, leading to charges by the Mexican government and threats of extradition by the United States.

This saddens me, it really does.

Rick Jacobs Produces Bigfoot Photo

Stories about the Bigfoot Research Organization are making the internet rounds again. Ya'll may remember that it wasn't that long ago that the same group made an appearance here in Frog Pond Holler. They had everyone in town stirred up with their supposed reports of a sighting of the big hairy creature by an "unidentified family" that lived way back in the woods. That's when I decided I should go into business for myself, taking city folk up in the wood to hunt kudzu monkeys (you can read Of Bigfoot, BBQ and Kudzu here.)



Now Rick Jacobs has produced photos of his Sasquatch:

The Pennsylvania Game Commission begs to differ however. They've stated that there is little doubt that the creature in this picture is not Bigfoot, but a diseased bear with a bad case of mange.

What do you think?

Michael Caine, Cupcakes for a Cause and Little Liberaces

Craig Ferguson nearly made me late for work this morning.

Oh get those naughty thoughts out of your head, he wasn't at my house, keeping me from getting dressed for my day at the office......

......

......

Sorry... my mind wandered there for a second...

The reason I was almost late is Craig's interview with the legendary Michael Caine. I sat watching last night's taping of the Late Late Show, completely entranced by the exchange. I loved his telling of stories from the early days of his career, of how he met his wife of 34 years and seeing him laugh while viewing the "When Harry Met Sally" spoof that Craig had done earlier in the year, with impressions of both Caine and Sean Connery, was priceless. I missed the second guest, barely making it out the door to get to work on time.

Did ya'll know that October 15 - 21 is Cupcakes for a Cause week? Bakeries across the nation are supporting CancerCare for Kids, an organization providing funding for research to find a cure for the littlest patients. So run out and get a cupcake.. or two. It's for a great cause!

Now, I'm going to go find a bowl, fill it with coffee and submerge my entire head in it, with the hopes of waking up. I feel like I've been beaten with a baseball bat. I've been rearranging furniture, attacking dust bunnies and doing some major cleaning the past couple of days. My next project... the aquarium. All the fish died.. well.. the betta went on a rampage and killed them all, then died himself. I think he snapped. No more bettas for me.. I'm getting some peaceful, flamboyant little guppies. They're like little Liberaces of the water.

Anywho.. ya'll have a good one. It's back to the grind for me.