More Than One Mama Bear Can Take

Here at The Asylum, it's been a bad week to be a Mom.

On Tuesday, I was answering emails when I received a call from Lulu on an outside line. I didn't even know she'd left. She was calling from the DG in town, looking for Benadryl. Her mom had called to tell her that her son, Mitch, had been stung by a bee while working outside and was swelling up like a balloon. Lulu grabbed the drugs and dropped them off with her mom and rushed back to work. A little later, when I went to ask how he was doing, she was gone again. I called Thelma to ask if Lulu'd left again, looked up and there she was, standing in my doorway. She'd been to the clinic and back.

Lulu's got mad ninja skizzles.

Mitch ended up at the Hee Haw clinic with Dr. Methuselah, 2 shots in his belly, one in his hip and 2 more.. I don't even want to know where. They said if he'd waited any longer he'd be dead.

The docs down at the Hee Haw clinic don't embrace the practice of "bedside manner."

Today, Mitch is doing fine, but Lulu is in sticker shock after finding out they wanted to charge $400 for epipens for him to carry. Mitch's income is so low, he doesn't even have to have Obamacare, so no insurance. Lulu called around and found someone with a sample pack so her youngun doesn't up and die, seeing how he cuts trees for a living and is bound to run across a bee or two again. In the mean time, I found a manufacturer that offers free pens to low income people, so she's got that for next time.

On Tuesday afternoon, after being holed up in her office all day with the door closed, leading to all sorts of speculation around the office of plant shut downs, mass firings... all kinda stuff.. Twatwaffle came to my office and shut the door.

"This is it.. I'm fired," I thought.

She leaned back against the door, muttering something about informing her top notch team, began shaking all over and hyperventilating.

With her 96 year old father-in-law in hospice and her mother facing surgery for the lifelong effects of rheumatoid arthritis, I assumed something really bad had happened to one of them. I walked over and put my arms around her.. anything to stop her from shaking. Between panting breaths, struggling to speak, she squeezed out the words, "Monday night.. my son... OD'd... on heroin."

I was flabbergasted. Her son, barely 21, had the world handed to him his whole life. TW has a daughter and three beautiful grand babies, but this boy, this was her baby.

"His... skin was gray... I.. I.. had to do.. CPR... on my baby boy."

That night, he'd come in late and asked her to make him something to eat. She told him no, she was tired, what with running to the assisted living place, taking her mom on doctor visits and running this place. She told him she was going to bed. He is grown after all, surely to gawd he can go make himself a friggen sandwich.

But then she felt guilty, as we all do and went back upstairs to toss some chicken in the fryer. She told herself it wouldn't take ten minutes, then she could sleep, guilt free. As she puttered around the kitchen, she heard him go in to the bathroom, but, after a reasonable amount of time, didn't hear him come out. She banged on the door, but he never answered. When she pushed her way through, she saw him there in the floor, not breathing, with the needle hanging out of his arm.

It would be traumatic enough if you knew your child was doing the hard stuff, but TW had no clue. I can not even begin to fathom what must have gone through her mind.

She yelled for the Bubbahubby to call 911 and began CPR, or at least, the best she could from what she'd seen them do on T.V. When the paramedics arrived, they popped him with a syringe of Narcan and hauled him to the E.R.

Today, TW's baby boy is doing ok, other than facing a court date for possession charges and ya know.. being a heroin addict. TW and her Bubbahubby on the other hand, are all to pieces. I think both their worlds have pretty much been blown to smithereens in the past week.

In the middle of all this feckin' Mama Drama, Thelma put her baby boy on a plane to Argen-fudgin-tina. He met a nice South American girl while working at a ski lodge in Colorado this past winter and decided to pack up his stuff and head way south of the border.

Thelma is nervous, but okay with it. Her Bubbahubby and her mother-in-law are not and are blaming Thelma for "letting" him do it.

The boy is 19. What's she supposed to do? Lock him in the basement?

Lulu said Thelma's brother-in-law even stood up in church last Sunday and asked for prayers for Thelma's baby boy to see the error in his ways, shaking his head and putting on a good floor show.. and embarrassing the beejeebus out of Thelma.

So while I feel lucky that back at my trailer, the worst thing I'm dealing with is The Amazon's swollen ankle and her lack of enthusiasm for helping with the dishes, I've still had my share of anxiety fueled chest pain this week.

As much as TW gets on my last nerve, I honestly do not think I could survive the week she's had. My heart aches for all three of them,

It's hard to be a Mama, yo. The struggle is real.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Of Cemeteries and Condoms

The Amazon left last night with her old friend, The Gritlett, taking off in a rental car across the mountain and through the woods to Atlanta to see some band they're all gaga over.

That means I can run around the house in various stages of undress until Saturday night. Well, I do it whether she's there or not, but now I don't have to worry about T.A. catching a glimpse of one thing or another and running down the hall screaming, "THERAPY!! OMG I NEED THERAPY!! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE NAKED????"

And? I get to touch the t.v. remote. Awesomesauce.

As she packed for her trip, she asked me to list things she'd need, to make sure she didn't forget anything.

"When I used to pack for weekend adventures to go running around behind some band, I think my list was a little different from yours," I explained.

"Okay, not what you needed, what I need."

I sighed and without looking up from my netbook said, "Booze? Condoms?"

"Mama.. seriously. Well.. there could be booze after the concert.." she added.

"Condoms?"

T.A. gave me the gawd awfullest go-to-hell look you've ever seen. "I won't be needing any condoms."

"If there's booze, you'd better take condoms," I said, drawing on my vague memories of being twenty-four.

Again, I got the look. "Be serious, please? I don't need to take .. those."

"Mmmm hmmm. That's what I thought too, and yet.. here you are." 

I think there was some heavy sighing and eye rolling after that. I can't be sure, I was too busy giggling.

~ ♥ ~

Lulu invited me to go on an adventure with her after work last night. She and her mama were going up to the isolated mountain community, way back up in the hills where our family trees criss, cross and intermingle. They make a trip up there every spring to clean off their place card thingies. At the cemetery. Where they've got all their plots, their children's and their spouse's all picked out and waiting for them.

*shiver*


"It's such a pretty little cemetery, I just feel at home there," she said.

"Lulu.. you're so morbid."

"It's so peaceful,"she added.

"Oh. My. Gawd. You sound like you can't wait to get there. YOU'LL BE DEAD. In the GROUND. Doesn't it creep you out just a little to spend your evening cleaning grass clippings off a marker for your child's grave?"

"Why no. Why would it? You're just silly Mahala," she laughed.

She knows I can't stand it when she talks about stuff like that. She used to tell me stories she'd gotten from her cousin who used to work at a funeral home, going into gory detail about what they did with your body. It still gives me the herky jerks.

I love Lulu, but she sometimes she's a weirdo.

~ ♥ ~

It's Friday ya'll... and thank the Lord. It's just me and Ma back at the trailer until tomorrow night and while there is a crap load of miscellaneous bull hockey that needs to be done, I'm not making any plans. If I git 'er done, great. If I don't.. well.. it's not going anywhere.

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

Later Taters!

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Two Very Nice Gentlemen

For the past few days, Lulu's been telling me about her new neighbors down the river. Two gentlemen recently moved to a house just up the road on the main drag next to the Baptist church who are rumored to be "that way" .. her words, not mine.. but seem very nice. Lulu has pointed out on several occasions that they keep their property well manicured and beautified, important qualities for any landowner in sight of Lulu's place, if they're to meet with her approval.

I'm not sayin' she's anal and nitpicky or anything...

She damn near curls up in the fetal position and weeps whenever I mention the Curative Pool of Natural Healing we've got cookin' in our front yard, resulting from the sewage blockage.

Anywho...

About a week ago she noticed water coming up from the ground near the edge of their property and flowing down across the road to the river. It was obvious to everyone that drove by that there was a break in the water line where it went into their property.

Everyone except the two very nice gentlemen.

They were spotted a few days ago taking turns shoveling through the puddle that was forming at the edge of their property. All the neighbors figured they knew what they were doing, taking the business of repairing the leak in to their own hands, having heard of the town's reputation for slacking on the job when it came to caring for the water issues of it's residents.

But then?

Then they lined the large hole with rocks, allowed it to fill with water and added a couple of goldfish. Apparently the two very nice gentlemen thought they'd hit a natural spring. Yesterday, the goldfish were seen being washed across the asphalt towards the river. I'm going to pretend they made it, lest I lie awake at night and imagine them panting on the pavement. They never stood a chance in the pool to begin with. Our water has so much chlorine in it, you can smell it from a mile away.

Lulu's new neighbors will figure things out when they get their water bill in the next few days. Hopefully they'll have more luck dealing with the town than I have.

I'd better get back to work.

Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!!

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Of Lesbians and Turkey Basters

My alarm went off at the butt crack of dawn today, but as I reached over to hit the snooze button, I was tackled by a very annoyed Pupzilla, her mouth inches from my face, barking like she'd lost her damned mind. I explained to her that it was customary to hit the snooze button at least twice before we considered getting up, but she was having none of it. She wallered all over me, flopped down, snuggled for a few seconds then sprang to her feet, pawing at my head with her gargantuan paws.

"Do you wanna go outside? Gotta pee?" I asked.

I swear, the look on her face said, "THANK GOD! Now could you hurry up please? C'mon, get up!"

When we got to the back door, after a slight detour to slobber all over the cat and make a run through Ma's room, she shot out of there like a bat out of  hell, doing the running squat.

If you've never seen a giant furbaby doing the running squat at the butt crack of dawn, you are truly missing out on one of life's most entertaining moments.

~ ♥ ~

Frog Pond Holler is all abuzz about the new owners down at the campground store. They've renovated the kitchen, which is great, but the decision to stop selling hot breakfast biscuits has everyone's bloomers in a wad. We were discussing it here at the Cubicle Asylum yesterday afternoon as I stood in the hallway, halfway between Thelma and Lulu's offices.

"It's them lesbians what took over down there that's doin' it," Thelma decided.

"What lesbians?" I asked.

"You know, them that's got that big ol' baby. The ones what went up north somewheres and got the insimer... insimi... "

"Oh.. you mean she got turkey bastered," I explained.

"Who? What are you talking about?" Lulu asked from across the hall.

"What'd she say?" Thelma asked.

"Lulu's wanting to know who we're talking about." 

"It's them lesbians what live down the river by your mama n' em Lulu," Thelma yelled.

Lulu looked at me and mouthed, "What?"

This inspired me to holler across the hall in a very unprofessional manner, "IT'S SOME LESBIANS THAT THELMA KNOWS, THEY GOT 'EM ONE OF THEM TURKEY BASTER BABIES. THEY LIVE BY YOUR MAMA N' EM!!"

Lulu cracked up. I thought she might wet her granny panties. Thelma yelled from her desk, "THAT'S NOT WHAT I SAID.. I MEAN IT IS.. BUT I DON'T KNOW THEM!! I DON'T KEEP COMPANY WITH THAT SORT!!!!"

"OOOHHHHHH," I said. "SHE SAID SHE KNOWS 'EM BUT SHE DON'T WANT EVERYONE TO KNOW ABOUT IT," I hollered across the hall.

Thelma's face turned beet red. So did Lulu's, but it was because she was gasping for air, not because she had an intense desire to rip my head from my shoulders and use it for a game of basketball, as Thelma did.

It's way more fun to totally humiliate some people around here when they start showing their ignorance than it is to try to argue with them.

~ ♥ ~

I've put the word out around the holler that I'm willing to pay anyone with a tiller to come down and give my dirt a good stir. They can name their price. I'm determined to have a garden.

~ ♥ ~

I want to thank everyone who left comments yesterday. Your words warmed my heart. I honestly don't know what I'd do if I didn't have all ya'll to listen to my rambling and share my stories with.

TGIF ya'll. Have a bootay kicking weekend. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

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Health Care Reform, Glumdaclitch and Knuckle Dragging Neanderthals

Let's recap this lovely Monday morning thus far, shall we?

I was running a little late on the way in, but I stopped at the campground store for a biscuit, throwing caution to the wind and risking being a few minutes tardy. Their deli has been closed for a couple of weeks for renovations and I was jonesin' for a sausage, egg and cheese biscuit. I walked in and Marty, the tattooed manager with ginormous hooters that excite our GM so much that sometimes he shows up with his little white biscuit bag and his eyes glazed over like a teenybopper, took one look at me and announced, "There will be no more biscuits. It sucks."

"Ever?" I asked, with a twinge of hope in my voice.

"Never, ever," she answered.

I may or may not have made a pouty face as I shuffled over to the rack holding the assortment of packaged pastries.

I made it to the office, only 3.5 minutes late, sat at my desk and, once situated, ripped into my Texas Cinnamon Roll. I sniffed it. I grimaced. When you can SMELL that a pastry is stale, that's pretty bad. I began to pull it apart, realizing it was hard as a rock and sighed as I rolled it up in the packaging and tossed it in the trash. Breakfast ended up being a pack of crackers from the company vending machine.

Next door to my cubey, Cousin Frankie was chatting with Lulu about his latest ailments. He's had the shingles and been down with his back. Now he's dragging his leg behind him. It all seems to be related but no one knows for sure what's going on. He was griping about our worthless health insurance and I chimed in with my two cents worth. It seems we pay every month for the privilege of saying we're covered, but that's about the extent of our benefits.

Except for the noggin' doc. I am thankful that I only have to pay a $30 co-pay to have my head examined.

Anywho..

I was caught off guard, but not really surprised when Cousin Frankie and Lulu's discussion of health insurance made it's way down the darkened path to Obama's health plan helping nobody but "them n*ggers and Mexicans."

I took a deep breath, turned the volume up on the radio and quietly talked myself down from my mental clock tower before I said a whole bunch of stuff I'd regret later.

I don't do politics. I don't know the details of the recently passed health care reform bill, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't specify specific races or nationalities. People, especially ignorant knuckle dragging neanderthal people, will hop on any bandwagon they can twist into a reason to spout hatred and discontent.

Please don't misunderstand. There are perfectly rational individuals without a trace of racism in their blood who oppose specifics of the bill for perfectly logical reasons. My anger isn't due to a difference in opinion over the passing of a bill. My blood boiling, venom spewing pissedoffedness (heh.. I made a new word) is over the gaul of some people to use ANYTHING as an excuse to attack groups other than those they personally identify with.

The really fun part? Cousin Frankie is, indeed, my distant cousin. We're both descended from a common ancestor, one listed on some census forms as "Glumdaclitch" who was rumored to be Cherokee. I think she was probably Melungeon. I'm still working on finding out how she was named after a character from Gulliver's Travels. In any case, she wasn't "white." That whole side of the family tree is peppered with dark skinned kinfolk of assorted racial backgrounds.

If I had the cajones, I'd point all this out to both Frankie and Lulu, my other distant cousin on that side.

I tried in vain to block it out, as they went on about people getting welfare checks and food stamps (both of which I've had to use in the past.) I think my favorite quote came from Lulu, who was telling Frankie about a girl she knew on assistance, "She's Mexican but she was born here."

I'm pretty sure that makes the girl in question an American.

I'm not really any better than they are, I suppose,  because I sit here, radio blaring, lips clenched, beating the hell out of my keyboard instead of speaking up.

And I'm ashamed.

Forgive me.

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

Later Taters.

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The Pee-Wee, The Funk and The Stoner

The sun is shining bright down on Frog Pond Holler this morning. It's about dern time. I hope the mud has a chance to dry up a little before we get any new moisture falling from the heavens.

I feel like I've been beaten with a baseball bat today. My marathon grocery shopping - deal hunting - coupon waving - rebate grabbing adventure yesterday whipped my booty. I got some nice deals though, some free Revlon from CVS plus free Purex and cookies at Wally World.

I like free. Free makes me a happy little hillbilly.

Here in the holler, everything seems kind of quiet as we wait for the influx of tourists and hikers to begin. Traffic will be thick as ants on honey, even more so with that chunk of I-40 still closed. Foot traffic will be almost as heavy as those granola eatin', shower shunning hikers start making their way down off the trail.

Bring on the funk.

Meanwhile, back at the trailer...

The plumbing is still broken. Seriously. I'm calling the town on Monday and giving them until Wednesday. If it's not fixed by then I'm calling the health inspector. I'm tired of all this pussy footin' around. It's ridiculous. And I don't mean they need to come "look at it" by then. I want the gawd dern thing fixed.

I've got to get some stuff done around the house this weekend. It looks like it's been ransacked, partially due to the plumbing situation. There is laundry piled in every room. I take enough to the laundromat to keep clean clothes to wear to work, but the rest just keeps piling up.

Dirty laundry does not emit a pleasant aroma, especially in mass quantities.

It's funkalicious ya'll.

Here at The Asylum, it's peaceful today. Sunshine Bossman is his usual if he laughed his face would crack and he'd surely crap his pants cheerful self, but he's got his door shut, pouting about some mundane something I'm sure, so I don't mind. Thelma isn't here, I imagine she's off beating her 15 year old stoner into a life of therapy as we speak, which is cool because her older stoner but she doesn't know son is studying psychology in college.

Lulu is slowly coming out of her shell. Her daddy died a couple of weeks ago after a long illness, she's just starting to talk about it a little and even joke around some. I'm sure she'll be back to her old self before long.

If all else fails, I'll just run in her office, close the door with an angry look on my face like I'm fixin' to vent about something, then I'll start humming "Tequila" and break out into my own rendition of the Pee-Wee dance.

Works every time. She cannot resist the Pee-Wee.

Anywho, I need to get back to the bump and grind. Ya'll have a booty kickin' weekend. We'll talk again soon.





Later Taters!



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Bubbles Returns.. Briefly

It's cold and nipply in Frog Pond Holler today, but at least it's not snowing. It's supposed to be warming up a little, but we've still got some snowy patches on the ground and the creek remains half frozen. I guess the weather gurus have a different definition of warm than I do.

Here at the Asylum, we got the news Wednesday that Bossman will no longer be required to take a week furlough every month and I'm back on a forty hour schedule. Ya'll have NO idea how glad I am that I won't have to fly solo as sales ninja anymore. Granted, Bossman doesn't exactly have magic fairy dust and unicorns shooting out of his butt, but he has been easier to get along with and his being here takes the pressure off me.

And getting a whole paycheck for a change doesn't suck either.

The same day they called Bossman back to the office, I thought I spotted another familiar face sneaking in the front door, striking fear in my heart. The cloaked figure moved stealthily from the front door to Tiny's office, clutching a manila envelope to their chest. Thelma volunteered to sneak up to the front office on an information gathering mission, returning to confirm my fears.

It was Bubbles.

Now, I know some of ya'll probably have mixed emotions about Bubbles returning to the Asylum. I have to admit, the old blog just hasn't been the same without her coochie crud, dildo phone and lengthy sex ed discussions with Louise, but I've made too much progress since she's been gone. If she came back as my co-worker, they'd have to up my medication.

There was speculation as to why in the heck Bubbalicious was up here. Of course, I was scared plumb pootless that she'd been called back in to talk about coming back to work, but she hadn't spoken to Bossman and the GM completely ignored the fact that she was here at all.

Obviously we needed more information. We sent Lulu, who marched right in there with a big ol "Hey!" and came right out and asked Bubbles what she was doing up here.

I love Lulu.

It seems that Bubbles, who's been laid off for a year now and who's been telling everyone in town that she was going to get a job up at the elementary school, was kindly informed by her Bubbahubby that it was time to stop pussyfootin' around and find herself gainful employment. Bubbles, acting like the delicate, unworldly little hausfrau that she wants everyone to think she is, called Tiny, our plant manager and a.k.a. Bubbles' work hubby, telling him that Bubbahubby was upset with her and she needed Tiny's help because she didn't know how to create a resume.

Seriously.. what kinda person has the balls to go to the company that kicked them to the curb a year ago to ask them to spend two hours of company time on her resume?

Lord.. please let that child find herself a job so she'll stop sniffing around here like an old hound.

Anywho...

In other news, Ma claims she heard something outside her window the other night, looked out and found a big doe looking back at her and all up in her bedroom. She said they had a nice little talk and it's come back to visit a couple of times since.

Great. Between the possums, stray cats, screech owls and now deer, I could probably open my own petting zoo.

Ah well.. I suppose I should get back to the grind. Before I go, I wanted to thank ya'll for your response to yesterday's "De-Lurking" day. It was great to see some names I've not seen in a while and a few I didn't even know were out there. Just for the record, I am the world's worst for lurking. I read everything on a feedreader to make it easier to do from work without opening too many windows, so I'm cool if you wanna lurk in the shadows.

Lurk on!

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Not a Nature Girl

I'm not sure why, but yesterday I got into a long, involved conversation with one of my customers on the subject of using the bathroom outside. No.. wait.. I guess you can't call it "using the bathroom" if you're squatting in the bushes at the side of the road.

Believe it or not, this is a hot topic of conversation between Lulu and I. Although she's quite prim and proper about most things, she doesn't give a second thought to hopping out of the truck and communing with nature when the need arises. I'm constantly amazed by this, I've never tried it and I don't see how it's possible, being of the female persuasion, to have a "go" and not thoroughly wet all your clothing in the process.

Back in my drinking days, when my friend Deneene and I would drive all over creation to attend Def Leppard concerts, we used to get pretty chit faced. Deneene, who could be really loud and obnoxious when she'd had a few, would suddenly begin screaming as we flew up I-64, "OH MY GAWD I GOTTA PISS.. NOW!" so I'd pull over to the emergency lane and she'd drop her drawers and squat right there, to the delight of passing truck drivers.

I really miss that girl.

Anywho, the customer I was speaking with offered to give me detailed instructions should I decide to try it out. She said she learned when she'd go camping with all her women friends and they'd get too drunk to make it back to the cabin to pee. I told her it was okay. I'd made it this long without having to do it, I'm sure I could go the rest of my life without that particular piece of knowledge.

I can just imagine me losing my balance, teetering over and unable to stand with my britches around my ankles, rolling down hill (because around here, everything is on a hill) and into oncoming traffic, flashing my naughty bits to all of Frog Pond Holler.

Nobody wants that.

Anywho...

Lawd have mercy it's Humpday. We've already had phones down this week, then phones working but only half way and we lost the internet and access to our inventory control system for half a day yesterday.

Today has GOT to be better.

Ya'll have a good one and hump it like a penguin, because that's how cold it is in this office.

Later Taters!

Of Satanic Cults and Big Headed Germans

I was working away late yesterday afternoon when I received a call from the Big Headed German over in accounting.

"Hey Mahala! How's it goin?"

"Oh I'm okay.. what's going on?" I asked, anxious for him to get to the point. I needed to finish putting in the big, weekly order from our one, huge customer and I was getting a little annoyed that I was playing operator at the same time.

"I just finished payroll for next week. You'll be happy to know that your check number ends in 666."

"Oh wonderful," I answered. "One more little curse in my life."

The Big Headed German laughed, in his big headed way and said, "Didn't they say that wasn't really the number?"

"Yeah, that's right, I remember now, they said it wasn't translated correctly from the original Greek. I don't remember what it's supposed to be though."

"Isn't it 999?" he asked.

"Ummm no, I don't think that was it," I answered, glancing down at the pile of data entry I still had laying in front of me and glancing at the clock, realizing that time was running out.

"Did you know that if you connect the stars in the Proctor and Gamble logo, you draw 666?" Apparently BHG had evil conspiracies on the brain."They're sideways and backwards and upside down, but they're there."

"No, I never heard that, I always heard they were owned by the Moonies. Hey.. if the sixes are all upside down and sideways, they could be nines too right?" I think this was around the time I decided I didn't give a big butt zit about the data entry anymore and moved the pile to the side.

"Hey, that's right!" he exclaimed, apparently impressed with my magical number decoding abilities. "But, what's a Moonie?"

"Don't you remember Reverend Moon.. and that cult.. back in the late seventies I think?"

"OOoooh you mean the ones who were waiting for the mothership to take them back on a comet. Weren't they from the moon?"

"Oh my gawd no. That was after I came to work here. I'm talking about back when we were still in high school."

"Oh yeah," BHG said.

"Well, anyway, I should get back to work now that you've told me that my paycheck is cursed and I'm doing laundry with Satan's detergent."

"No we cleared your paycheck, remember? The number of the beast isn't 666," the Big Headed German reasoned. I guess he was trying to make me feel better.

"True," I added. "Wait, isn't it supposed to be BR-549?"

"What? I've heard that somewhere," he said.

"Yeah.. from Hee-Haw.. there's always that cartoon goat at the end.. and you know goats are the sign of Satanic cults. I heard Lulu represented the Pagan goddess of fertility, with her voluptuous curves and Junior Samples supposed nonsensical ramblings were actually demonic instructions, veiled heavily in secret code for their army of followers."

The Big Headed German was silent.

"There were wild orgies where the moonshine flowed like water and all those big busted women exchanged their Daisy Dukes for long, flowing, black robes. I saw a picture somewhere on the internet where an insider snapped a picture of of their sacrificial offering... a family sized bucket of KFC.. which was ceremoniously fed to that big bloodhound.. the resulting slobbers were collected in Mason jars and were thought to posess magical powers..."

"Wait.. is this those Moonies you were talking about earlier?"

*Blink*

"YEAH! Thats it!" I said. "Anywho, I'd better get back to work, I'll talk to you later."

I still managed to get my orders entered before quitting time.. but not without stopping to think about the Big Headed German and the look he'd have on his face when it finally dawned on him what Hee-Haw was. It's that big head... too much empty space in there.

It's Friday ya'll. I just wanna take off my clothes and roll around in the wet grass with happiness.

Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

Disclaimer: I do not really think Hee-Haw is satanic. I was raised on that show and still watch it from time to time, Sunday nights on the RFD channel. I do not in any way wish to state that Proctor and Gamble or any of it's holdings is actually part of a cult, satanic or otherwise, nor do I wish to insult the members of any religion, group, cult or collection of individuals with a common belief.

The initials "KFC" is not meant to imply the name of a famous chain of fried chicken restaurants, any similarity to that company is purely coincidental.

I love bloodhounds and would never say anything to soil their good name, nor did I wish to imply that they produce an unusual amount of slobbers, although the substance may, indeed, possess magical powers. You can adopt your own magical slobber producing bloodhound here.

Any similarity between the fictional Hee-Haw fertility goddess Lulu and my co-worker Lulu is purely coincidental. I'm pretty sure co-worker Lulu doesn't even know what a Pagan is, but her sensitivity to cold and extreme lack of blood circulation does make me wonder sometimes if she is actually human.

Bubbles, Bossman and the Latest Gossip

As I was walking down the hall yesterday, Lulu motioned for me to make a pit stop in her office. We have to be stealthy to get any gossip, everyone's scrambling for every hour they can get, no one wants to be accused of having any free time.

"I stopped down at the dollar store yesterday after work and I seen Bubbles sittin' in the parking lot with her girls. I got by her without her seeing me, but then I got cornered by her Bubbahubby over by the Pepsi and chips," she said. "I asked him how she was doin' and he said he told her she was just gonna have to stop waitin' around for the plant to call her back and find her a job."

"Mmmm hmmm... he don't like her having all this free runnin' around time now that the little one's in school," I added.

"Uh huh.. he said she's been a'helpin' his daddy mow grass for people and he's havin' to pay her, but Bubbahubby don't like it. He said his daddy needs his money. In the meantime, Bubbles' Bubbahubby is working FOUR jobs," Lulu added. "He's working for the hospital, over in the next county as a paid firefighter, he's mowing for people AND he's working part time for the town. Now, I KNOW their house is paid for and I KNOW he makes good money up at that hospital, so you can't tell me he ain't workin' all them jobs just to keep from being at home."

I thought about how wide open Bubbles was when she worked beside me up at the Asylum. Then I imagined her without anyone to talk to for hours on end and how glad she'd be to see her man when he walked in after a two day shift on the ambulance.

"I'll bet, if she doesn't find a job soon, Bubbahubby will be finding him a fifth job, just to keep peace in the family," I said.

 Just the thought of her coming back to work up there puts a knot in the pit of my stomach.

In other news...

I've known for a while that Bossman keeps a full woodworking set up in his basement. He occasionally brings in pictures of stuff he's made and openly admits to having a framed, autographed picture of Norm Abrams hanging on his wall for inspiration.

After spotting an article on casket making in the paper, PG showed it to Bossman and suggested that perhaps he should go into the coffin crafting business. I joined in and as PG and I got as much mileage out of it as possible, Bossman reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a woodworking catalog, flipped to an earmarked page and proudly displayed a listing for "coffin hardware."

He never would say if he intended to build his own or build them for other people, but don't be suprised if you hear of an angry looking bald man on the side of a Tennessee mountain road, surrounded by a collection of custom crafted caskets for sale.

I'll be sure to get pictures if I spot him first.

Anywho...

It's Humpday ya'll. Let's hump it like it's our last day on earth.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Opie, Ellie and the Big Secret

Bossman is in the conference room having a three-way... um.. call, so I've got time for a quickie.

My first visit with the noggin doc last night went well. Her office is in a little stucco house with tiny gardens, gargoyle statues and frolicking squirrels. It reminded me of one of those cheesy Thomas Kincade paintings.. with less cheese.

She serves hot tea with her sessions, which take place in facing Victorian, wing backed chairs and a shared stool between them. There is an abundance of tissue at arms reach.

I have a feeling I'll be visiting that little stucco house for a while.

I dropped the Amazon off at the new, ginormous Wally World on the way, a behemoth of a store with four entrances. I had planned to check it out when I returned to pick her up, but I found her sitting in front of the store with her cart full of goodies.

We even got free junk ya'll! From the pharmacy.. I had her get my crazy pills prescription refilled while she was there and they gave her two big water bottles filled with sample sized stuff.

After she got in the truck she told me she ran in to Opie, Lulu's youngin. Everyone down here in the holler swells with pride when they talk about how Opie's got him a job down at that big, new Wal-Mart.

Anywho..

Opie's little girlfriend, Ellie, was hanging out, checking out the festivities (it was Grand Opening day) so Opie introduced her to the Amazon when they ran into each other.

Before I go on, there's something I need to explain. As most of ya'll know, I lie all over the innerwebs use a pen name when I write, mostly just to protect my big butt from buckshot as I drive through Frog Pond Holler. Bubbles' Bubbahubby always brings home something big and hairy when he goes on his yearly Montana hunting trips. I don't want to be next.

I was named after my two grandmothers and for that reason, I'd never consider changing my given names, but I'd just rather not have the middle one be common knowledge. I'm sure it was a fine name, back in the day, but now it conjures up visuals of The Flintstones, 1960's comedic actresses and tiny, old, Jewish women.

Lulu, being family and all, even though she tries to deny it, found out my middle name and has called me by my full name since. I'm not real sure why I let her get away with it, I reckon because I rarely see her outside of work and as long as the information was contained in some way, it wasn't that bad.

Well..

When the Amazon met Ellie down at the Wal-Mart, Opie explained that his mother worked with the Amazon's mother.

"Wait," asked Ellie,"who's your mother?"

"Mahala," the Amazon said as she beamed with pride to be associated with such a goddess-like being said.

"Ohhh Mahala *insert hideous middle name here*?" she asked.

"Oh n-no.. " Opie stuttered, "hush Ellie.. "

The Amazon, filled with good ol' shock and awe said, "Oh. No. You. Dint," as she pointed at Opie. "My mama's gonna kill you!"

"C'mon Ellie.." Opie cried, tugging on her arm, "flee .. flee to Housewares... LIKE THE WIND!!"

As they disappeared among the bath towels and table cloths, Opie could be heard yelling back to the Amazon, "T'weren't me who told.. IT WAS MAMA!!"

The Amazon and I laughed all the way back to the holler. I tried to come in this morning and pretend to be mad, but I couldn't do it with a straight face.

Lulu, by the way, has no recollection of ever telling Ellie my secret. I think Opie just got scared and offered his poor old ma up for sacrifice.

Ain't that just like a youngin?

Anywho...

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

Later Taters!

Drama, New Critters and Major Girl Scout Fail

Lawsy! The Christmas shopping in Big City on Monday was mayhem.. MAYHEM I tell ya! How I ever got the bright idea that I'd avoid the crowds by not going on the weekend is beyond me.

I hit the road out of Frog Pond Holler around tennish, after running to the plant to pick up my paycheck then to the bank and the post office. Once I made it out of Hee-Haw county, my first stop was the mall.

I walked the entire Big City mall, no small feat by the way and bought absolutely nothing. I then went to every craft store, book store, department, discount and pet store within a twenty mile radius.

Okay.. maybe not every single one, but my feet seem to think that yes, we visited them all. I managed to find everything I was looking for, with the exception of one or two little bits and pieces.

I think I'm done. Well... almost. There are still one or two things I want to pick up for Ma and one thing I might run by Wal-Mart for this weekend.

I know.. Wal-Mart on the Saturday before Christmas. I am either very brave or extremely foolish.

My last stop before heading home was the Pet Not-So-Smart, where I bought myself a little somethin' somethin' for my birthday. Four somethin' somethin's actually.

Ya'll know I'm a little on the weird side, odd even, in an endearing sort of way. *wink*

Most women, when faced with their 43rd birthday, would probably buy clothing, nice shoes, maybe even treat themselves to some jewelry.

Me?

I bought myself two Dalmation Mollies and... a pair of African Dwarf Frogs. The frogs are named Leonard and Sheldon. If you know the show those names are from, you're probably a little weird too (I mean that in the nicest way!) The Mollies haven't been named yet.

When I got home, at like 7 p.m., draggin' ass and toting my little bag o' frogs and fishies like a 6 year old with fresh carnival winnings, I found a birthday cake and a bouquet of flowers compliments of the Amazon.

It was a great birthday.

As if that wasn't enough excitement for one week, what with the cakes and the frogs and whatnot, we had to evacuate the Asylum yesterday.

I was sitting at my desk playing on plurk and facebook working diligently when I over heard someone across the hall say "911" and "flames" and "HOLY SHIT." I promptly shut my computer down, started cramming my desk monkey, lamb and piggy in to my purse and hollered for Bossman. Once we all made it outside, I turned to look at Thelma and we both said the same thing, "Where's Lulu?"

Now, before I go on I should tell ya'll that in the event of fire, I have but one.. ONE responsibility. See, Lulu doesn't have a supervisor here, technically, because she works for the Big Headed German who's office is at the other plant. Therefore, there is no one to "count" her wee little head during evacuations, so it's a running joke that in the event of a fire (and only then) I am responsible for making sure Lulu makes it out alive.

Apparently this little tidbit of information wasn't stored in the part of my brain where I put important things I need to remember and when the need arose to evactuate the building, my head kicked in to "every chubby girl for herself" mode and I promptly made like a bat out of hell.

Thelma ran back in to the burning building to make sure Lulu wasn't about to meet certain death, sitting on the toilet, while I stood in the rain stroking my desk monkey.

All Girl Scout badges I earned as a small child are being revoked. They may even take away my Brownie beanie.

Oh and Lulu wasn't poised upon the throne during all the drama. The silly girl was out on a "fitness walk," where she was nearly run off the road by the three racing fire trucks that came barreling up the road behind her.

Although she forgave me for not rushing to rescue her from the burning building, I was firmly reprimanded for not grabbing her purse and dress shoes.

The fire, which started when some debris blew in to an exhaust fan... or something, ended up being contained to a small area of the roof and damage was minimal. We're all back in our places with bright shining faces this morning.

I hope the drama is over for a few days. I know everything turned out fine in the end, but it was a little frightening, standing there in the rain wondering if it was really going to burn down this time. It's amazing what starts going through your mind.. the truck payment, the house payment, Christmas... it's humbling and when it's over you realize how lucky you are to even have a job nowadays.

So it's all good.

Ya'll have an awesometastic Humpalicious Hump Day!

Later Taters!

White Stuff, Tight Stuff and Hot Stuff

We had snow flurries when I got up this morning. It wasn't laying on the ground down here in the holler, but they put the schools on a two hour delay, so it must have been doing something substantial up on the mountain.

I saw a woolly worm high tailin' it across the yard the other day. Woolly worms are a tried and true method of weather prediction around here. It is said that you can tell how rough the winter is going to be by the width of the dark patch between his two brown stripes.

The one I saw? Solid black.

When ya'll figure out what that means, let me know.

As I've mentioned a few times in the past week or so, I'm trying really hard to be a kinder, gentler Mahala. Because of this decision, I've decided not to post about the fact that Bubbles showed up this morning with britches so tight, that not only is her big muffin butt quite obvious, pooching out over the top of the bikini drawers that she's not exactly built to wear, but parts of her anatomy are clearly outlined, leaving nothing to the imagination.

It's a good thing I'm trying so hard to be a better person or I'd be all over that.

Lulu came back to work after her dental ordeal. I made fun of her trying to talk with side of her face all drawn up, bits of drool sliding down her chin.. because I'm a good friend like that. She ended up with a root canal, but she has to go back for part 2 and possibly part 3. She also told me to inform my child that she was a liar, by saying root canals don't hurt.

Lulu's a trooper though, she came back to work afterwards and finished out the day. I think I would have been popping pain pills, sprawled out on the bed in a chemically induced coma if I'd been as miserable as she seemed to be.

Anywho.. it may be snowing outside, but the thermostat in here is set on eternal hell and damnation so I'm gonna go hike up my britches legs, crank up my fan and see if I can find some loose ibuprofen hiding in the bottom of my purse so I can head off this headache.

Ya'll have a booty kickin' day.

Later Taters!

Buzz Kills, Mystic Thrills and Trick or Treating for Grown Ups

Dang ya'll. It's supposed to be 83° here in the holler today. Could someone please buy Mother Nature a calendar?

Following are a few tidbits, observations and thoughts for today:

Some state highway department Bubba in an orange vest totally flirted with me at the campground store this morning. He said he sure did like my purdy truck.. held the door open for me and everything. I nearly broke out in to song, doing a hillbilly version of Natural Woman:

"Ya'll make me feeeeeel, ya'll make me feeeel, ya'll make me feeeel like a naaaa-tuuur-ul wo-min.. wo-min.."

Then I came to work and had Lulu point out a big wad of makeup on the side of my face and totally buzz-killed my feminine elation. I'll spend the rest of the day wondering if the purdy eyed highway worker was checking out my cosmetic malfunction when I thought he was flirting.


~*~

I've been reading "The Secret of Shambahla" by James Redfield, it's part of the "Celestine Prophecy" series. Anywho, this one covers synchronicity and how your negative thoughts can influence your life, etc.

The reason I'm bringing this up is.. well.. ya'll know how much I like using the phrase "festering boil on the left ass cheek?"

Well guess what I have. What? That's too much information? Sorry.. besides Lulu, ya'll are the only friends I've got and believe me.. she's already gotten a very graphic description of everything involved with the fore mentioned blemish.

So deal with it.

Although I'm certain that manifesting large, festering boils wasn't what James Redfield had in mind, I think it's kinda funny.. well.. when I'm not squirming in my office chair.. trying to find a comfortable position. This damned thing is like Mount Vesuvius.



~*~
On the way home from the fair Saturday, after we stopped at the Exxon/Subway for dinner, the Amazon and I ran by the grocery store to pick up one or two things (ya know.. milk, bread, enormous over iced cinnamon rolls from the bakery for breakfast Sunday morning.) When I got to the checkout, there was a pile.. nay.. a mound of coupons piled on the counter. The store prints coupons based on what you buy and the information they have stored about you on their computer, but apparently most people don't take them.

"If you see any coupons you want, help yer self. It keeps spittin' them out, but nobody wants the dang things" said the cashier. I'm sure she noticed my drooling at the sight of all of them.

"Can I have them all?" I asked.

The cashier grinned, grabbed a plastic bag and tossed them all in. It was better than trick-or-treating.

Now I need another whole pack of those trading card sheets. I've got coupons coming out of my ears.


~*~
Anywho.. I reckon I need to get back to work. Ya'll have an awesome Tuesday. We'll talk again soon!

Later Taters!

Fried Bubbles and Violet Visits

Dang ya'll. It's so humid in here, I'm gonna need a squeegee for the under boob sweat. The thermometer I brought in last year when the ac was broken has a humidity gauge which currently reads 95%.

Eck.

It may rain right here in the Cubicle Asylum.

Bubbles is back from her long weekend camping trip. I don't know if she ended up with that nasty case of poison oak I was wishin' on her hoo-ha, but she did get sunburned. It's hard to burn a Melungeon ya'll. And Bubbles? She looks like a lobster fresh from the pot.

But I'm not giggling, because that wouldn't be nice.

Little Miss Bubbilicicious seemed unpleasantly surprised to see me this morning. She's unaware of the deal I scored with Bossman. I'm sure she looks forward to her Mahala-free Mondays as much as I look forward to her days off. It gave me great pleasure to sashay over to her cubey and drop a load of paperwork in to her tray, with a big, shit-eatin' grin.

You could just hear those squeaky wheels a' churnin' up a storm behind those beady little eyes of hers.

Cracks me right up.

It's Decoration time here in the holler. Those of you of the Southern persuasion will probably know what that means. For those of you who aren't familiar with the way of the hillfolk, Decoration is when the remaining family members of all those buried in those little country cemeteries you see back behind the church house, gather to remember those who have passed. Flowers are placed on the kinfolks final resting places and all the youngins, grand youngins, greats and great-greats get together for a dinner, usually involving crap loads of fried chicken, tater salald and every cassarole and desert known to man.

Lulu and Festus were hanging out in my cubey for a bit this morning, talking about the Decoration that was held this past weekend, back up on the mountain, in the tiny community where both Festus and Lulu's Bubbahubby were raised. Everyone was all a'buzz up on the mountain when they found out that Lulu's sister-in-law had made a trip down from New Jersey for Decoration.

You see, Violet ran off to nursing school in New York City when she got out of high school and never moved back. Then she married a Chinese man. I've heard that little old ladies down at the Baptist church nearly fainted right there in the worship hall when they found out that sweet little Violet had not only married a "ferriner" but they were sure he must have participated in some sort of debbil worshiping, heathern religion, being Chinese and all, and Violet's soul would be destined to burn in eternal hell fire.

Then... she got DIVORCED!

The only thing worse than marrying one of them heathern ferriners was divorcing one.

When Violet got remarried to an Egyptian man and moved to New Jersey, a collective thud was heard as everyone on the mountain collapsed to their knees with folded hands, begging the Almighty to show Violet the error of her ways. The wailin' and prayin' could be heard clear over in Big City.

Anywho...

Violet is still married to the Egyptian. They have two beautiful kids and run a store somewhere in New Jersey. They drove down this weekend to surprise her mama, then turned around and drove back home after two days.

I love hearing the stories of their visits, Violet's hubby always insists on cooking at least one meal for all the kinfolk when they're here. I try to imagine the backwoods, mountain people sitting down to a table covered with strange Egyptian food, people who think olives are exotic fare.

It's probably like... Ma and Pa Kettle meet E.T.

Ah well. I hope I get to meet Violet and her hubby someday. Maybe next time.

It's a hot one here in the holler. I hope the weather's nice where you are. Ya'll enjoy it regardless.
Later Taters!

Frozen Falling Goodness

It wasn't a-hole deep, but it did snow in the holler last night. We got a few inches, which I know is nothing to ya'll of the northern persuasion, but down here anything more than a dusting is an event. More of the white stuff is forecast to fall through tomorrow morning.

A few of the menfolk have stopped and peered into my cellblock cubicle, grinning, to ask if I'd "jerked 'er down inta fo' wheel drive" this morning.

Goober please.

Jolene has tires taller than my kneecaps, I hardly think I need to start "jerkin' 'er down" for three inches of snow.

Of course Bubbles' customers are all being told that she has more snow than anyone else in a 100 mile radius and it took her 30 minutes to drive the two miles to her mother-in-laws this morning to drop the youngins off.

Dang. If you ask me, if you can't operate that shiny white Jeep assault vehicle SUV any better than that, maybe you should keep your skanky ass home.

Just sayin'.

Moving on...

Tomorrow is Lulu's birthday, she's turning the big four-oh. She's asked that I refrain from baking a cake, too many calories and fat grams that she'd feel obligated to partake of.

Maybe I can wrap up a bag of sugar free/fat free/taste free cardboard tastin' pseudo candy or something. I'll have to see what the Dolla Genrul has to offer.

Anywho, it's Humpday and ya'll know what that means..

Hump it real good.

Later Taters!

Earplugs Are a Fashion Statement

I don't know who these people think they are up in here, expecting me to like.. sell stuff all day. I have blogging responsibilities!

Sheesh. The nerve.

It's spitting snow outside, just enough to make it pretty but not sticking to anything. It did make Lulu reconsider taking her afternoon fitness waddle up and down the hill. She'd already removed her Cuddl Duds after determining that the other eight layers of clothes she had on were sufficient to ward off the arctic winter here in Frog Pond Holler.

I think it's like 40° out there.

Seriously, I don't think Lulu has any blood. Her her heart is pumping Diet Pepsi, fueled by a steady diet of raw carrots and fat-free pimento cheese.

I, on the other hand, am wearing a short-sleeved blouse, my shoes are off under my desk and I've got my fan going at warp speed.

Mahala is one hot mama.

It sounds like there's fixin' to be a fight across the hall. Louise is trying to get 'em all stirred up, seeing how there's not been an honest to gawd, knock-down, drag-out here at the Asylum in at least six months.

Purchasing Guy: "I swear, I've been trying to make a phone call for the past twenty minutes. Are the phones down again?"

Louise, loudly: "They's all used up raight now. We ain't got but four lines ya know."

PG leaves the office, shaking his head. If he had any sense he'd just use the company supplied cell phone he has strapped to his hip, but I digress...

Louise to Thelma: "I kain't heppit if evurbuddy is on the dang phone at onced!"

Thelma: "Wail.. jest who's on the phone? We'll find out and we'll jest tell'em PG's mad!"

Louise, noting which names were lit up on the switchboard, hollers: "Jasper and Tiny and Bubbles and Fred! Wait wait... one's free now!!!!!"

Thelma: "HEY PG.. THERE'S A FREE LINE NOW!!!"

Louise: "Awwww never mind.. Bubbles is back on the phone..."

Thelma: "NEVER MIND PG"

Through all of this, I'm over here with earplugs in, trying to do a quote and actually sell something so I don't have to take any more "voluntary" days off in the near future. I hear Bubbles go across the hall to Thelma and Louise's office.. I remove my earplugs.

What? Hell, I don't want to miss anything.. what would I blog about if I didn't get details?

I hear Louise to Bubbles: "Is ya finally off the phone? PG was trying to make a phone call. You'uns better hope you wuz a usin' it fer bidness!"

Bubbles: "AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! He was mad huh? That's so FUNNY! PG was mad! AHAHAHAHA! That's PUUUURFECT!! Har har.. snort.. giggle."

No.. seriously. Ya'll think I'm kidding but I swear on a Paula Deen cookbook, I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.

Thelma: "Yeah, ya'll better not be on the phone when PG needs to use it no more. He was really mad!"

Now Bubbles has her panties in a wad because she's not going to be told when she can be on the phone. I heard something about her wanting to claw PG's eyes out.

It's a good thing tomorrow is church night. Just sayin'.

PG is sitting in his office, without a clue that half the office staff wants to march through town with his head on a stick. Dude just wanted to make a phone call and now he has to die.

Damn shame ain't it?

Thelma and Louise are sitting at their desks all laughing and happy because they've stirred up a big stinking vat of office bullcrap.

Why can't they find another hobby like.. needlepoint or something?

Anywho, it's almost time to go home. I'll see ya'll tomorrow.

Later Taters!

The Grinch Modeling Hats at the Dollar Store

Lulu and I have been cracking jokes for two weeks over the "family portrait" special that's been advertised down at the dollar store. Ya'll know Lulu never misses a deal, but at the same time she despises having her picture taken. There isn't a picture in existence of her smiling. It's a shame because when she laughs and smiles it's infectious, but when her children's children and grandchildren look back at pictures of old Granny Lulu, they're going to think she was a huge sourpuss.

Over the weekend, Lulu stopped by the dollar store and witnessed the lonely photographer set up in the store room, all by himself. She determined that it might not be a bad idea, you did get one free portrait and if it was off in the back where no one could see you, she might just go for it.

The next day, after coaxing him to put on a clean shirt and comb his hair, Lulu drug the bubbahubby down to the dollar store to sit for a picture. When they arrived, she was horrified to find that the photographer had moved to the front of the store, right in front of the window. She wanted to change her mind, but bubbahubby was having no parts of it. She'd made him change shirts and drug him down there, by golly he was getting his picture taken. Lulu gave in, she can't pass up anything free except maybe kittens and puppies. Lulu is not a critter lovin' kinda gal.

Anywho, they sat for their picture together and although to hear her tell it, it pained her to sit in front of the store window for God and everyone else to see, they had their pictures made together. It wasn't until the photographer reached into the box and pulled out the matching his n' hers Santa hats that things started to go horribly wrong.

Lulu ain't all about wearin' no hats.

After it was explained to her that she'd have to have all the shots taken, including those with props to get the free portrait she agreed to wear the hat, but she refused to smile.

I'm offering a reward for those pictures. I'll pay top dollar. I'm picturing The Grinch.

And just suppose she's mistaken and the free portraits are the ones with the silly Santa hats? She'll never turn down anything free.

I can't wait.

How Lulu Killed the Avon Lady

I've told ya'll before how Lulu is a frugal shopper. She spends the span of time between the morning and evening church services each Sunday, going through the coupon section of the Big City paper clipping coupons and going through the advertisement pages for the one grocery store in the county, planning the week's dinner menus.


Shopping is her hobby. Lulu can find a deal on anything, she recently figured out a way to get a sizable discount on a brand new SUV using her Sams card. On the opposite end of the spectrum, is Lulu's bubbahubby. If he sees something he wants, he buys it. It matters not how much it costs, if he's already got one or if he'll ever use it once he gets it home. To say that this difference in opinion regarding money matters has caused a spat or twelve in the Lulu household, would be an understatement. Lulu has tried, for the better part of twelve years, to show her bubbahubby the errors of his ways, but just when she thinks she's finally gotten through, he comes home with something he was talked in to buying.


Although her bubahubby doesn't show signs of frugality when shopping at whatever flea market or estate auction he happens upon, he does use restraint when it comes to buying for special occasions like Lulu's birthday or their anniversary. It's not that he doesn't care, it's that he grew up way back on the mountain in a tiny, remote community where store bought goodies were rare and celebrations usually consisted of a gathering of family members for a special meal with a desert like cake or nanner pudding.

About a year ago, Lulu's bubbahubby... let's call him Andy... came home on her birthday carrying an Avon box. He was tickled plum to death with himself because not only had he remembered the day, he'd come home with a present. Lulu was pleasantly surprised.. until she eyed the box. Lulu isn't fond of Avon and she knew that the only Avon salesperson that Andy would have talked to was the retired school teacher, Ms. Crotchedyoldhag.

Ms. Crotchedyoldhag was older than dirt. She'd not only taught Andy in elementary school, she'd taught Lulu's mama as well. Lulu had been with Andy before when they'd run into the little old thing down at the Grab n' Go (and go and go) and witnessed first hand that her age had no effect at all on her ability to engage in high pressure sales tactics. She'd catch bubbahubbies in town without their wives and back them into a corner, flashing her darkened dentures, stained from years of drinking coffee and smoking out behind the school house. She'd remind them how she used to take a willer switch (that's willow for you city folks) to the backs of their hands when they spoke out in class (back then, it was an acceptable means of discipline,) then she'd tell them they needed to get something special for their little women back home. Oh she was good. She'd claim to remember that she'd taught little Becky Sue in the fifth grade and that she liked the color red and wouldn't this shade of lip color look right nice on her? Or that she remembered that little Amy liked kittens and she knew she'd appreciate this little lapel pin depicting a little kitty with a red bow. Poor Jethro wouldn't know what to say and end up buying it, the now middle aged Amy opening her gift on Christmas morning, smiling at Jethro while silently wondering what the hell possessed him to buy her a "Hello Kitty" pin.

Anywho, so when Lulu opened the box and saw the tacky little purple flower necklace.. with matching earrings.. something she would never wear, she fumed. She knew Ms. Crotchedyoldhag had talked Andy into buying it, he knew it wasn't her style. Now me, I would have taken it, maybe even wore it once just to keep from hurting anyone's feelings then tucked it away somewhere.

But not Lulu.

To her, this was a blatent waste of money. She knew the old school teacher had probably lied and gotten Andy to buy it on false pretences and she intended to get her money back.

It began innocently enough. Lulu called Ms. Crotchedyoldhag and explained to her that she didn't care for the items purchased by Andy and would like to return them for a refund. "Well!" Ms. Crotchedyoldhag was taken aback, "I've never heard of such a thing. I don't believe I've ever had anyone try to return anything! I'm not sure I even know how to do that."

Lulu's eyes rolled so far back in her head that she could have checked the tag on her shirt without taking it off.

"Well, I intend to get a refund so you just let me know when you find out how it's done," Lulu was taking no prisoners.

About a week went by without a word from Ms. Crotchedyoldhag. Lulu called her and again explained that she needed to return the items for a refund. The old woman would not hear of it. Things were about to get ugly when Lulu threatened to call the 1-800 number for Avon, "I intend to git some satisfaction!"

"Law have mercy... I nevah seenta beat!" (don't ask me to translate that, it's a common phrase here and I don't have a flippen clue what it means) You could almost see the poor old thing wringing her hands at the prospect of a black mark against her when she would be forced to process a return of Avon products. Lulu made it clear to her that she'd meet her down at the Grab n' Go (and go and go) the following day, during her lunch break to make the exchange.

The old woman didn't show.

Lulu called her again. Poor Ms. Crotchedyoldhag told her that she didn't drive any more and she was having a hard time finding anyone to bring her to town. She lived back up on the mountain, in that same community where Andy was reared and there was no arguing that it was a long way to town. But Lulu wasn't fooled. The Avon lady never missed lunch at the Grab n' Go. She was there every day, rain or shine. She was avoiding Lulu.

Lulu no longer cared about getting her money back. Now it was a matter of principle. She's like a pit bull when it comes to saving or wasting money. She will not let go. "I know where you live, I can just come on up there, okay?" Lulu thought it was a reasonable offer.

Ms. Crotchedyoldhag had a sudden change of heart and promised to be down at the local eatery the next day, Friday, at lunch. Lulu went down and spent her entire thirty minute break sitting in the parking lot. Still no Ms. Crotchedyoldhag.

She decided to give it a rest over the weekend. She figured she wouldn't get her money back at this point, but it was bugging the crap out of her. And poor Andy, all he did was try to buy his wife something for her birthday. I was embarrassed for all parties involved. I was like, it's Avon.. not Tiffany's.. move on.. jeeze!

Monday morning Lulu got a call from her mother. Ms. Crotchedyoldhag had died suddenly (at the age of 86) on Saturday evening. It took every ounce of self control I had to abstain from telling Lulu that she'd scared the old Avon lady to death. It's been a year since she died, but if you mention the old school teacher in Lulu's presence, she still says,"I never did get my money back."

Gettin' Stinky

The cooler temperatures here in town didn't last long yesterday. By lunch the clouds had cleared and the sun was beating down on us like it was August. This put a damper on my plans to take a brisk walk around the building. I don't mind pushing myself, but Lulu complains if I come back in all stinky and uncoiffed.

I used to make three laps around the property each morning and afternoon. I drove it once to measure it, one lap is .3 miles, so three trips around equaled a mile.. or there 'bouts. It's been a few years since I took regular jaunts around the plant, between the blistering heat, snake infestations and my general laziness, I just got out of the habit. Yesterday I decided I'd get back in the swing of things, starting off small going once around twice a day. I'm thankful to report that I made it around without seeing any slithery residents.

Lulu takes walking breaks regularly as well, but she tackles "the hill" instead of making laps around the building. My car even coughs while climbing that hill, it hurts me just to watch her.

I think I'm going to go out and get some air before it gets too warm out.

And remember.. it's Humpday. Hump it real good.