A Holiday Tip…..

I know that y’all are like me…..tired of people calling up wanting donations for charities. It happens all year-long but around the holidays, it increases triplefold.

Most of the time, I just don’t answer the phone unless I recognize the number. But, occasionally, I’ll get a bit curious if the number has called several times and pick up the phone. I have found that the most frequent beggars are law enforcement “representatives”. Now, I’m not referring to supporting actual policemen/women. They are underpaid and underappreciated. So, don’t start leaving “cop hater” comments or such.

I’m referring to organizations like the Fraternal Order of Police or Shop With A Cop or the Barney Fife Official Museum Council, etc. And, I’m sure that they have noble intentions basically. However, they don’t realize that they are calling an expert on the field of fundraising for groups like this. Yep, that’s right. I spent a whole month in one of these fund-raising boiler rooms!

One fall, after the kids were back in school, I wanted to make a little extra moolah for Christmas. I love new experiences and begged my best friend to do this with me. She was very reluctant but when I started calling her at 3 o’clock in the morning, yelling “PLEASE DO THIS WITH ME!” in the phone, she relented. Over the years, she has come to realize how annoyingly persistent that I can be when I want something.

I was more excited about the mischief that we could get into than the piddly pay. We did have fun! Unless you’ve done this, you have no idea the variety of people to whom you get to talk. We just had to read this really standard (and boring) scrip while trying to act bubbly and nice. We turned it into a contest to see who could change their voice the most. We used accents, tried to sound like men, tried to sound really shrill and all other sorts of juvenile crap.

One of the calls that I remember with fondest (and a case of the giggles) was to a really hard of hearing lady. Now listen…I did NOT prank that elderly woman. Let’s get that straight. I might be mischievous but I’m not mean. The conversation went like this….

Me…”Hello! How are you? This is blah-blah and I’m calling for the Fraternal Order of the Blah-Blah.”

Old lady…”WHAT? Yes, I’m at home.”

Me….”Honey, that’s not what I said.” And, then I went thru the whole damn script again.

Old lady…”Groceries? Yes, I’ve got groceries.”

Me…”Well, good for you. I was worried that you didn’t. Now, you have a really nice evening!’

Old lady…”Ok. Call me tomorrow. Bye-bye.”

(A side note which has nothing to do with this topic but the above reminded me of it. Once, I called my uncle. He is a little hard of hearing so I was speaking a little loudly. I inquired about how he had been doing. He told me that he had just gotten out of the hospital. I was surprised since no one had told me that he had been ill. We discussed his health problems and his hospital stay, etc. We talked for about 10 minutes or so when suddenly, he said, “Why are you talking so damn loud?”  In horror, I was suddenly aware that I had dialed a wrong number and this guy was not my uncle! I didn’t want to admit to the man how stupid I was so I told him that I was talking loudly because there was something wrong with my phone and I couldn’t hardly hear him and figured that he couldn’t hear me either. I told him that I’d call him back once my phone got fixed and hung up. I’m sure that to this day, that poor ol’ guy is wondering just who the hell I was.)

So, there is where I learned Trick #1 to handle telemarketers. Act deaf!

The next trick, I learned from calling a doctor’s house and his housekeeper answered the phone. She couldn’t understand a word that I was saying nor could I understand her.

Trick #2….act like you are the housekeeper and don’t speak English.

The next trick I learned while talking to a welfare mom. (I am not putting down all welfare moms. Please do not leave me hate comments!)

I run through the whole stupid script and then ask her if she’d like to buy one of the coupon books. She ask me what coupons were in them. I told her restaurants,dry cleaners,food, etc. But, she wanted to know what each coupon was exactly. I had to read her off the whole damn book of coupons. Finally, out of breath, I asked her if she wanted to “donate” and get one. She told me that she couldn’t until her welfare check came in!

Trick #3….do what the welfare lady did!

Here’s a few other tips that I picked up from that job.

Trick #4…..tell them that you do not have the money. You are saving up bail money for one of your relatives.

Trick #5….this is my favorite to use. I took an idea and perfected it for my own use. Turn the tables on ‘em. For instance, I got a call from the Special Soandso wanting to sell me some outrageously priced circus tickets. I told them that I would be happy to buy some except I had two special needs children to support. I left out the part about their special needs being cellphones, rides to the mall, brand name clothes, etc. Hey…that stuff is special to them and they think they need it. So, don’t be judging me!

Now, no matter what the person is collecting for, I boomerang it and tell them a sob story until they are sooooooo ready to get off the phone from me. Or, I tell them that I’ll be happy to donate to their organization if they will donate to mine. When they ask me what mine is, I make up some off-the-wall group…..like Keeping the Ostriches Alive in London or Support A Stylist for the people who go out in public wearing their pj’s or pants down below their butt. You can make up all kinds of names for organizations!

Seriously, though, I do support some charities of my choice. I support the Woman’s Domestic Violence Shelter which is located a few miles from me. I send money to the famine victims in Africa. I give money to my church. I do my share. So, don’t be hatin’ on me or think I’m a heartless biotch!

So, readers….my Christmas gift to you. Tips to handle telemarketers!!!!!

OK..one more little story that I just remembered. There was this one guy in the boiler room who thought that he was really all that and then some. He was constantly bragging about how many coupon books he had sold that hour/day. Well, me and my friend really couldn’t give a rat’s ass how many he had sold because we were way too busy trying to hold back the giggles when we had when we had to call somebody with the last name of Dick or Peters, etc. We totally channeled 12-year-old boys at this “job”. But, one day, he really got on my nerves. So, I decided to fix his wagon. See….he, also, thought that he was a real ladies’ man. I failed to mention above that we got cursed out a lot by people on the phone. That day,  I got a really rude, mean, nasty woman on the phone who said some curse words that made even me blush. After she hung up on me, I went over to his station and told him that I had called a woman who wanted to buy 5 books of coupons if I could get a guy to call her and deliver them to her. I gave him her number and of course, the cocky butthole couldn’t wait to call her. Lawdy…..you could hear her cussing him clear across the room!!!!

I know that was mean and I shouldn’t have done it. But, gosh it was fun!!!!!

The (Ex) Terminator said, “I’ll be back….” and

I said, “OH HELL NO! You won’t!” after firmly shutting the door and locking it behind him!

OK…I admit that I have more than the average number of weird/freaky/strange characters in my life. I am apparently putting out some kind of “freak friending” scent or something. And, to be honest, most of the time, I enjoy the odd people who I meet. They make life very interesting. I’ve written about several of them in the past with fond memories.

But my exterminator is so friggin’ weird that I am borderline afraid of him. Only borderline because being a good white trash woman, I do have and know how to deliver some severe hurtin’ on anyone that ever tries to hurt me. And, owning several guns, rifles, a taser gun, and machetes bolsters my lack of fear. I’ve had friends and family tell me that I’m somewhat naive and too trusting. I think that it’s the fact that I believe that most people are actually good. Of course, I realize that sentiment didn’t keep poor little Anne Frank alive, did it? On a side note…there is one person that I am seriously terrified of because she is truly nuts. She is a hoarder and you can barely see her house at this point. She lives about one half a mile from me. She’s one tough cookie. She has shot at kids waiting on the school bus because she said they were on her property. And, she is as strong as an ox! One summer, my husband hired her son to help cut down some big trees and remove the stumps. She showed up and asked if he would hire her, too. Frankly, I think that he is afraid of her, too, so he hired her. That woman outworked both guys. She picked up tree limbs and stumps as big as a refrigerator and tossed them into the truck. So, yes, I am afraid of her. Oh yeah, she weighs about 300 lbs!

Back to my exterminator. First, I want to assure you that my house is not infested with big ugly ass bugs or other creepy crawlies. My problem is that I live in the woods and field mice just love to come in after dark to find a snack or when it’s cold to get warm. The very first night that I moved into this house, I was freaked out by seeing a mouse run out from under the fridge and another one run under the dishwasher. Then, after going to bed, I saw TWO more in my husband’s bathroom. (We have separate bathrooms because I can’t stand pee on the floor around the commode. And, I REFUSE to clean up pee for any person who is over 4 years old or handicapped. That’s why he HAD to hire a lady to come and clean his bathroom. You would think that a grown man could get some paper towels and wipe up his own piss! Sorry, I got off topic but, damn, that rant felt good!)

Once again, back to Billy Bugman. He is the 3rd one that I’ve had. The first one gave me the willies because he  had coal black dyed hair and looked like an undertaker. The next one decided somewhere along the line that he lived here part time and I could NEVER get him to leave. Plus, he got fired for something mysterious. When I have asked about him, all the people speak in a hush whisper and say that he was terminated. A terminated exterminator. Just realized how funny that sounds.

The latest one is….well….nuts! The first time that he came, he was pleasant enough but it was like he was an actor playing The Bugman. Something strange that I can’t explain but he did seem nice enough. As he got ready to leave, he handed me a business card which pronounced him to be a Life Coach. I think that this is kinda ironic because he is a LIFE coach and is killing critters. Is it just me, or is that like karma went haywire somewhere? As soon as he left, I looked him up on the internet and he had a site that said….(better use a fake name here)….Don Dickman…Life Coach. Call me to help you with life’s problems.” Then it listed a phone number and THAT WAS ALL! I googled him some more and saw where he had commented on a lot of different blogs and forums. Comments that made no sense. AND, he is a total religious zealot. Let me say that I believe that God sent his son to die on the cross for us. So, don’t think that I’m heathen or anything like that. When you read about the next visit, you’ll understand.

The next visit, he had apparently been touched by/drank/or ate something that had turned up his religious manic meter a few notches. As he walked around my house spraying baseboards, laying mouse glue traps, and such, he kept up a constant stream of, “Yes, I am soooo blessed! AMEN!” And, then he starts telling me about how God came to him and told him that he was going on a mission abroad. And, he was pretty certain that it was to Egypt or PARIS! The only thing stopping him was lack of funds. But, God had also spoken to him telling him that he would meet a nice lady that wanted to help him out. AND, he was going to meet her that morning! It was 9 o’clock in the morning…hmmmm. And, you know how you get that feeling that a person is talking about YOU even though they don’t actually say it? Well, I had news for the Bug Man, I wasn’t about to send him on a holy vacation to the next county much less Cairo or Paris!

Then, IT HAPPENED! He was getting ready to leave and heading for the door. Suddenly, he paused in a dramatic fashion and turned around. I thought, “Oh Lord, he’s gonna kill me and take my big jar of change that was setting on a shelf.” But, that wasn’t it. He told me that God had just spoken to him and told him that I had something going on in my life and needed prayer. Well, the only thing that I could think of was the fact that my husband wouldn’t quit peeing on the bathroom floor but I didn’t figure that was big enough for God to demand prayer for me. I rapidly searched my brain and told him that I had a sinus infection and was on antibiotics. “That’s it!” he said with a bit of excitement in his voice. So, when he requested to pray with me, I figured it wouldn’t hurt anything. He laid down his chemical canister and walked toward me. He placed his hands on my shoulders and drew me a little closer to him. Then, he put his hand on my head and started praying. I was pleasantly surprised to find the praying to be quite soothing…at first. Suddenly, his voice got louder…and louder….and he starting speaking in tongues. I had no clue what he was saying except for the word, “Yawah” which he said a LOT! Well, I have an insane sense of humor and was finding this to be kinda funny. I mean really…my exterminator is firmly holding his hand on my head and praying in tongues very LOUDLY! I try not to be judgemental and just thought…”To each their own” and decided to just stand quietly until he finished. But, he kept going…and going…and going….and I was starting to get a damn headache from the pressure of his hand and his screaming praying. Finally, he started winding down and finished. Just as I thought that I was in the clear, he grabbed me in a bear hug and said, “Sister…God spoke to me. Something good is coming your way! HALLELUJAH!” And, I thought….”Darn tootin’…you’re leaving and that’s good!” I swear this seem to have gone on for a good half-hour. I felt like I was on Benny Hinn or something. Thankfully, he left then!

Since I am a sucker for weird amusement, the next time that he came back, I couldn’t help but wonder what was in store for me this time. He didn’t disappoint. He came in with huge smile on his face. As always, he asked how I was doing. I made sure to tell him that I was just fine. I didn’t want another headache! Being polite, I asked him how he was doing. Big mistake! He said, “I left my wife! Hallelujah!” I said, “Do you mean you left her somewhere and are going back to get her or left her?”  And here is what he told me…..

“I left that disobedient Jezebel! She is not obeying nor respecting me. She is spending too much time at church!” (huh?)  Plus, he said that she claimed to be sick all the time. Now get this…..he claimed that one night God woke him up and told him to turn on the television. Because on the television was a preacher talking about disobedient wives (or in his case, Jezabels) and how God punished them with sicknesses for not honoring their husband’s position as head of the household. And, he said that he realized that every time his disobedient Jezabel took to her sick bed was after she had disobeyed/not honored him.

Oh, and there is more…..

It seems that this guy was under the impression that he was an associate pastor of his church. So, he decided to confront the main pastor and ask him when he was going to be able to share a message with the congregation. The pastor informed him that he was NOT a pastor AND had been missing Wednesday night services without the church’s permission. Well, I’ve never attended a church where you had to have permission to miss a service. I don’t know…maybe, he needed a note from his doctor (or psych doctor). So, Bug Man decided to resign from being an associate pastor (which he wasn’t to start with!). He told me that he couldn’t wait for his DJ (disobedient Jezabel) to find out that he was through with that church. He was frightenly happy just thinking about it. He then went on to tell me that God had found him an apartment to move in to just as soon as he moved out of his marital home! And, while rambling, he accidentally sprayed chemicals all over my boobs! He apologized and picked up a dish towel as if he were going to wipe it off. I said, “No…that’s alright! Won’t have to worry about boobie cooties!” I was trying to lighten up the mood a little.

I found his behavior to be disturbing. It reminded me of one of those crazy people that go off the deep end and shoot up a place. Please, readers, tell me that I’m not over reacting. This isn’t normal behavior, is it?

This time he didn’t pray with me but he did say, “I love you, Sister” as he left. Holy crapola!

So, now I’m trying to figure out how to get out of my contract because if I call the company and request another Bug Man, he might come back and seek revenge….probably considered justified revenge because God told him to kill me.

So, any suggestions? In the meantime, I keep my taser somewhere where I can get to it easily.

Got One Scratched Off My Bucket List!

Yes, I know….two posts in one day! I hope it’s not too much excitement for any of you.

So…here we gooooooo…..

Today is a very busy day! I was on the couch with a “bug” all week and have so much catching up to do.  Laundry, cleaning, catching up on all my recorded episodes of reality shows, etc.

Around 10:30, I decided that I might be more energetic if I actually got dressed out of the pj’s that I had been wearing since Thurs. Or, did I put them on Wed? Doesn’t matter either way because they were starting to smell bad enough to knock a buzzard off of a shit wagon.

I was in the bathroom drying off when I heard the doorbell ring. I rushed and put on my once-plush bathrobe and went to the door. There, before me, stood two very well-dressed and distinguished looking gentlemen. Here I am with crazy hair (my hair IS crazy until I dry and smooth it down) dressed in a bathrobe that has a hole located near a very private area (lets’ just say that I was getting a good airing out down there).

“I’ll bet you think we are Jehovah’s Witnesses.”…..the tallest man said.

 

“Well, either that or somebody trying to sell me encyclopedias that nobody ever uses anymore,” I replied.

The man chuckled politely and said, “No, we are JW’s and would like to take a moment of your time.”

My very weird brain starts processing this and what I could do to turn it into a positive experience for ME. It’s not that I have anything against JW’s. I actually admiring their balls going door to door with people slamming doors in their faces and calling them Satan Spawn and stuff. That takes major dedication.

And it went like this…..

JW….”God wants us to read the Bible everyday and follow its instructions.”

Me…”I agree. My pastor has preached on that many, many, many times.”

JW…”Are you familiar with our beliefs and our magazines?” And, he hands me a Watch Tower mag.

Me..”Why, yes I am. Actually, my sister was a JW before she passed away a few years ago.”

JW…”I’m sorry to hear that. What did she share with you”?

Me…”She said that she laughed her butt off at all the people knocking themselves out Christmas shopping. She said that, being a JW and not celebrating Christ’s birthday, she got some killer sales the day after Christmas. She got twice as much stuff for half as much money.”

JW….”clear his throat”…..”Oh! I meant about our fundamental beliefs about God.”

Me…”Oh! Well, actually we agreed to not discuss our differences in beliefs”.

JW…”And, what is your belief?:

Me…”I believe that God loves everyone. And, I love everyone, too. I love Jewish people, Muslims, Catholics, Protestants and everybody except corrupt government people. Why, I LOVE you! Do you love me?”

JW….(somewhat flustered)….”Yes, I love you.”

Me…”.well, then would you mind helping me set up my Christmas tree?”

JW…”We don’t celebrate Christmas. You said that you knew that.”

Me…”Well, that doesn’t mean that I don’t celebrate Christmas. Don’t you believe in helping other people?”

JW…”Of course, we believe in helping others but we can not take part in what we consider a pagan holiday.”

Me…”Well, can’t you just think of it as helping a lady put up a big, live plant in her house that she puts lots of lights on to battle SAD (seasonal affective disorder)?

JW…”I think we have kept you out in the cold long enough. So, we will be on our way.”

Me…”Awww, come on. Let’s put up the tree and then I’ll fix us some Rudolph The Red Nose Reindeer slow gin fizzes. It would warm you up for going door to door in the cold.”

 JW…”No, thank you. We must be on our way. We have a lot of territory to cover today.”

Me….”What if I turn on the DVR and let you watch my recorded show of The Most Hated Family in America. It’s a great documentary about the God Hates Fags church.”

JW….(headed down the porch steps)….”It was nice talking to you. Have a good day!’

Me…”come back…come back….you can help me wrap presents!”

JW…waves from the protection of his car and leaves.

Gosh…that was fun!!!!!

Dreams That Last A Lifetime…..

No, I’m not referring to a life long dream that finally comes true. Nothing like, “Wow! All my life I wanted to be a size 5 and now I am! Or, I’m finally taking those classes in feng shui/bellydancing/welding, etc. that I’ve always wanted to take!”

Nope! I’m referring to those extremely vivid, realistic, and detailed dreams that you remember for years and years…if not forever. And, boy have I had some over the years!  I’ve consulted dream interpretation books and online sites but have yet to find meaning in the weirdest ones.

 Two of the dreams are so twisted that I shudder to think that they might actually relate to something in my real life. One was from about 10 years ago and I can remember every detail in it to this very day.

Here it is…..

I am in a classroom. I am taking my SATs. The Devil is the administrator of the test. All of a sudden, my phone rings. It is not a cellphone. It is a battery charged regular size phone. On the other end is a member of the  George Bush White House staff. He tells me that President Bush wants me to obtain a sandwich tray for an important Heads of State meeting for lunch that day. I am thrilled. I never even question why I am the one called. I tell the Devil that I have an important mission assignment that came directly from the President of the United States and I have to go out and buy a sandwich tray and deliver it to the White House. But, the devil tells me that if I leave, he will penalize me by deducting points from my test! I figure that I can get the President to deal with that and fix it. So, I leave and head to the nearest place with a deli which is Krogers. But, the deli is closed! I am starting to panic. Then, I get the idea that I can fix the tray myself. I buy bologna, white bread, and mustard. I, also, buy a plastic tray container and a knife. I fix bologna and mustard on white bread sandwhices and cut them into triangles and arrange them on the tray. I hurry to the white house in an unfamiliar, very small blue car that resembles a cartoon car. I go to the door of the Oval Office and President Bush, himself,  answers the door when I knock. He takes the tray and is very happy that it is bologna sandwiches because they are his favorite. He is very generous and ask me if I have had lunch yet. I tell him no and he invites me to stay and eat with the Cheifs of Staff. But, I tell him about the SAT test and how I must hurry back to finish. So, he takes 2 half sandwiches off of the tray and hands them to me for my lunch. I get back in the tiny (it’s smaller now) blue cartoon car and head back to the test site. The devil sees my bologna sanwiches and wants them. I tell him that they are for my lunch and he cannot have them. Then, he tells me that if I give him the bologna sandwich, he will not penalize me by deducting points from my test. I hand over the sandwiches and go back to my desk to finish taking the test.

(I’ll bet this car gets great gas milage!)

 And, that’s the end of it. I woke up.  Haven’t got a single clue what it all means.

The second really vivid and memorable dream was just a few nights ago. And here it is……

I am in an operating room and I have had a balls transplant (balls as in testicles). Now, I am somewhat fond of saying “grow some balls, for pete sakes but have never really coveted a set of balls of my own. Or, any man parts for that matter. So, why I got an operation to put some balls on me is unexplainable. But, in the dream…I did. And they were HUGE! And HEAVY! VERY, VERY HEAVY!!!!!

They kinda looked like this…yep, they were brown! And HEAVY…..

As I had just had balls sewn on to me, I had a lot of stitches in my poontang area and was very sore. So, I had to wear a skirt when I left the hospital so my balls could hang freely in the air in order for the area to heal. I stopped at a grocery store (hmm..both dreams have grocery stores!) to get something…not sure what…probably vaseline or Cortisone cream or something to prevent itching. While in the store, I felt some heavy pressure from my groin area. It kinda felt like my balls were falling off. I looked down and no, they had not fallen off but they had begun to STRETCH! They were hanging a good 6 inches lower. And the skin at the top was stretching out and resembling wrinkly chicken skin.

 I hurried to the register to pay for my Aveeno Oatmeal Itch Cream (which is what I had decided on buying…didn’t want no itchy balls!). As I got my money out my wallet, I dropped a dollar bill on the floor. When I bent over to pick it up, I was assulated with two brown balls swinging and hitting me in the nose and eyes. My balls had streteched down past my knees! This was really embarrassing and the people behind me in line were either snickering or gasping in shock. I reached down into my skirt band and to my poontang area, grasped the wrinkly chicken skin at the top of the testicles and pulled it up. I then tucked it into my skirt band. So, here I was….walking out of the grocery store with part of my new balls tucked in my waistband. But, by the time, I got to my car, the balls had stretched even more and were now dangling past my ankles. I knew the only thing that I could do was tuck them into my shoes. But, I had on flip-flops!!!!! So, I grabbed them, gave them a tug to stretch them a bit farther and tucked each one of them under a foot to keep them from swinging around.

Then I woke up! What could this possibly mean? Anybody wanna venture a guess?

Am I Damned for Laughing?

Hi y’all! Haven’t been here for a long time. I’ve had lots to write about but just couldn’t get my  lazy ass motivated. It was a really tough winter….the most serious depression that I’ve ever had. It took every ounce of energy that I possessed to get out of bed somedays. And, putting on that “normal” face was a serious struggle. Most days, this was the best that I could do…..

So, I had to head back to the doctor with my tail tucked between my legs to get some Paxil. I had sworn that I would never take another psych drug because I was sick of the pharma companies putting poison out to innocent people. I’m tired of taking a drug only to find out a few years later that it’s gonna make my hair/teeth/bones/skin/liver/heart either fall off/fail/fall out/enlarge/shrink, etc. But, I had to eat my words with gritted teeth. I, also, MADE myself start exercising everyday   regularyly several times a week. So, I am feeling more like my old redneck hyper self again. YEAH!

Other things have happened that are not so great. My sister (who is a very heavy smoker) started having breathing problems about 2 yrs ago. She was diagnosed with COPD and emphysema.  She was put on breathing treatments several times a day. And, bless her little heart, she really did try many times to quit smoking.  But,Phillip Morris had her totally by the balls boobs and she just couldn’t kick ‘em. I mean this poor woman smoked so much that if they hadn’t ended the Marlboro points program, she would have been able to furnish her whole house, send her grandkids to college, get a new car, and go on a vacation just using  points.Personally, I think it would have been mighty handy if Marlboro offered an iron lung for points.

(Sadly, she is seriously starting to resemble this woman).

She spent the last year watching soap operas and alternately taking hits off of her nebulizer and her inhalers……with breaks for ciggies in between. Plus, she was put on steroids and gained about 25 pounds. Well, it’s probably fair to say that The Young and Restless, also, contributed to the extra pounds. Well, two weeks ago, I got a call from her fiance’ telling me that she was in Roanoke Memorial hospital and in not so good a condition. She was on a ventilator to breathe! I rushed off to Roanoke to see her. She had H1N1 virus plus pneumonia. It did not look promising. The doctors said they had done all they could do and the family needed to make a decision about what to do when they took her off of the ventilator. The respiratory therapist said that she did not expect her to be able to breathe on her own. So, it was up to her sons to decide what action they wanted taken on her behalf. At this time, she was not awake and could not tell anyone what she wanted done. However, she had signed a DNR order when admitted to the hospital.

My two nephews disagree about everything. They argue about how to raise their kids, religion, politics….everything.  But, I didn’t really think that they would butt heads over how to proceed with their Mom’s treatment…but they did. Both are church-going, family men who believe in God. The younger one, though, is somewhat of a religious zealot. The older one wanted measures taken to prolong his Mom’s life even after being removed from the ventilator. The younger one thought that his Mom wouldn’t want to live hooked up to anything and if it was time for her to go…well, it was time for her to go. They spent quite a bit of time in the waiting area arguing their cases to each other. I got tired of it and said that I was going back to see if she was awake and if she was, I would explain everything to her so she could make her own decision. I went back and she was awake. I sat down beside her and told her what the doctor had said about removing the vent and how she might not be able to breathe without it. I told her that the doctor could take other measures for her to breathe. Then, I told her to think about it and make up her own mind. Then I went back to the waiting area and explained to everyone what I had told her. Still, the younger one wouldn’t give up and insisted that she would not want to live relying on machines. Tensions were very high.

The next morning, after all family members had arrived, the doctors declared that it was time to remove the vent. And, they did. Miraculously, they removed the vent, put an oxygen mask on her and she was fine. She even tried to talk although her words came out in a whisper due to the vent tube being in her throat for so long. We were all extremely relieved and happy. Since only 3 people were allowed to be in the room, I went back to the waiting area.

Shortly, my nephews came out and….this is where it gets funny (to me)……

the younger one went downstairs to get some coffee. I had noticed that the older one was barely able to contain himself from laughter. I asked him what had happened and when he told me, I doubled over laughing. I didn’t know this, but after I had left the CCU room, my nephew’s wives had gone in to see my sister. The younger son’s wife decided that they should say a prayer. Her husband,( who actually does very loud street preaching..that’s a story for another day), decided to do the praying. The older son told me that he fully expected his brother to give a prayer of thanks for my sister being able to breathe without the ventilator. But, instead, he was surprised by his brother praying the following….

(this might not be the exact words but you’ll get the idea)….

“Father God, if it’s time to take my Mother home, please do it painlessly. If it’s her time to go to the other side, let us be strong enough to let her go. She has lived a good life and we will miss her. But, we don’t need her hanging on just for us. So, if it’s your will, then take her home to be with my daddy in Heaven now.”

Apprently, he was neglecting the fact that his Mom was awake and listening to him pray. And, his prayer sounded like he wanted her to go Home To Be With Jesus and his daddy! She opened her eyes really big and begin trying to mouth something.  My older nephew said that he bent down to see what she was saying. It was, “Stop! I’m awake. Don’t tell God to kill me now! Quit telling Him to take me to the light!”

I’m sitting her chuckling right now thinking about her eyes opened really wide after several days of being unconsious and unable to hear anyone. Then, some of the first words that she hears is a prayer wanting her to go to the light.

 

Now, my nephew and I refer to her as “Carol Ann”…from the movie, Poltergist.

Gotta love my family! Just hope someone else prays if I’m ever in that situation.

I’m happy to report that she is recovery nicely…..both from the sickness and the prayer. When I was there this past Sunday, she asked her doctor if she could have a Dr. Pepper and a Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pie….good redneck stuff!

 

 

Thanks A Hellova Lot FACEBOOK!…..

 

It all started so innocently. Friends and family pressuring me to join the wonderful world of Facebook.

“It’s a great way to catch up with old friends and keep in contact with family!” they said. And, being the ever wanting-to-be-with-it person that I am, I fell for their bullshit. Just like you. And, don’t even pretend that you are not ONE OF US…robotic Facebook Zombies. The difference is that instead of eating brains we feed on the constant flow of updates from friends…some of who we barely even know (if at all) in our real lives. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve got some online friends that I feel that I actually do know better than some of my family and I think they actually “get me” more than some friends that I’ve had all of my life. The majority of these friendships started right here at the good ol’ Trailerpark blog (and y’all know who ya are!)

But, lately, I have found myself spending far too much time trying to run interference between mutual friends. And, I QUIT! I’m not a Life Coach or Dr. Drew. Nor, am I a Kardashian or Perez Hilton. I have no qualifications or degrees in Soothing Hurt Feelings or Positive Life Lessons or any other crap that requires advice or running damage control. Figure your own shit out. And, if you find that this is not something that you are capable of doing…than get your ass off of Facebook, MySpace, FriendFinder, Yahoo Yellouts, Ho’Down Hookups, The Google, or any other social/hookup network.

The final straw came about a week ago. And due to the fact that I did something somewhat unsavory (for which I lay total blame at the feet of the Facebook god), I cannot divulge some information. That alone is killing me because y’all know that keeping a secret is as hard for me as it is for Tiger Wood’s to keep is weenie in his britches. Harder than it is for Mel Gibson to not pick up a telephone while drunk. So, this is one of those cases where ya know something but ya just can’t say how ya know it.

My brother is recently widowed and being the good sister that I am, I urged him to join Facebook. Make friends! Don’t sit around lonely. Catch up with people! What an innocent fool that I turned out to be. He joined Facebook and got right into the swing of things. I suggested some friends for him and being the social fellow that he is, he sent a request to all of them. And, being the nice people that they are, they accepted. And then….

 That conversation is one that I found on the internet. However, it is similar to what I am about to tell you. Ya see…it turns out that big brother had an alter ego that I did not know about….Rico Sauve’. No, he didn’t use that name…it’s just what we (me and a few family members) had taken to calling him due to his FB antics. Yep, he had become The Ladies Man. His hit-on-the-ladies techniques had apparently not been updated since the early 70′s or there about. Every time that I would log onto FB, I would see one of his comments on one/or many of my friends’ posts to me saying crap like, “Heaven must be missing an angel. How do you sit in a chair with those wings?” OMG!!!! I had unleashed a beast. Oh, but it got worse…much worse. Although, I had explained (several times) the commenting and posting procedures on FB, he couldn’t seem to get it right. Instead of adding a comment, he would go to my friends’ walls and post his comment there. And/or his comments would have absolutely nothing to do with the original post. The post might have been about cooking chicken a new way and would have 10 or 12 comments from friends. But, it would end abruptly when he would chime in (right after a female, of course), “You so beeutiful.” I guess he forgot how to spell, too, because it looked like a 6 yr old boy was doing the typing. I told him over and over that EVERYBODY can SEE what you are posting. OK…that was kinda funny and everybody cut him some slack. Afterall, he was lonely and…blah blah blah. BUT THEN…

 the really really really embarrassing shit started!  Checking my daily updates, I would see stuff like…(FYI..names have been changed to protect the innocent)…

Sally…I think your Dads acct has been hacked. Got mssg from him saying “U R beeutiful. How old r u?”

This was posted on my niece’s wall. Yes, his daughter’s wall. “Beeutiful” was a dead giveaway on this.

Then….”how do u expct a guy to flirt wit u if u dont put more info?”

OK…check this out, y’all. This was posted to MY PASTOR’S WIFE. Then, the messages started coming from some family members. “WTF?  Rico just sent my friend a message asking her how old she is and telling her that she is sexy/pretty/beautiful/etc.” I was spending hours trying to do damage control. Finally, I realized that I cannot control what people do/say on FB.  I have lost a couple of friends due to this mess. The funny thing…I unfriended them. They were eating it up and encouraging his shenanigans. It showed them in their true light…unstable bitches with no self-confidence. Hope they will all be happy forever and ever in Facebook heaven…or Farmville.

Tolerance

 

Hi friends and fellow bloggers,

It’s been a while since I’ve been here. I’ve been really, really busy/depressed/stressed/ and or in “brain pain”.

To release the whirlwind of thoughts in my head, I’ve been doing Puke Photography. Like the “Vomit Writing” only pictures instead of words. I have found both to be a great release and much less expensive than therapy.

So, I’m just stopping by to let you all know that I am not dead..yet. To see my Puke Pics, click on my pictures up on the right hand side.

I got this in my email this morning and thought that it was worth sharing…..

Tolerance….

Now, if you are serious about tolerance, try this on for size….

I am truly perplexed that so many of my friends are against a mosque being built near Ground Zero.

I think it should be the goal of every American to be tolerant.  
The mosque should be allowed, in an effort to promote tolerance.

That is why I also propose, that two nightclubs be opened next door to the mosque
thereby promoting tolerance within the mosque.

We could call one of the clubs (which would be gay) “The Turban Cowboy”
and the other being a topless bar “You Mecca Me Hot”.  

 Or prehaps, this one…..

 

Next door should be a butcher shop that specializes in pork and
adjacent to that have an open barbeque pork rib restaurant,
called something like “Iraq o’ Ribs”?

Across the street there could be a very daring lingerie store called
Victoria Keeps Nothing Secret with sexy mannequins in the window modeling the goods.  

  
Next door to the lingerie shop, there would be room for an Adult Toy Shop (Koranal Knowledge),
its name in flashing neon lights, and on the other side a liquor store, maybe call it “Morehammered”?  

Then the Muslims could be allowed to show their tolerance. Problem solved.

I Have One of “Those Faces”….

I apparently have one of those faces….one that people trust and feel comfortable in confiding everything . I could write a very thick book on the personal secrets that people have told me over the last several years. I suppose I, also, look like somebody who is trustworthy and a good keeper of secrets.  I do keep safe the secrets that are told to me by family and friends. But, strangers…well…I never promised them or took a Secret Oath not to tell/make fun of/write about anything that they tell me.

Last week, I had a doctor’s appointment.  From past experiences, I’ve learned to take a book or magazine to read since the waiting to see the doctor is usually a long one. This time, I took “Let Her In”, a book about a vampire child. The book was a page-turner and I was looking forward to reading it. But, just as I opened the book to where I had left off, a voice across the aisle said, “I hate doctors. Ya wanna know why?” Well, no, I didn’t really wanna know why but I was about to hear the reason anyway. Even though I had kept my eyes on the page of the book, the guy continued with, “I asked my family doctor to up my pain meds and he told me to find a new doctor.” I looked up. A buy in an azure blue, shiny jacket with matching sunglasses perched on the top of his long and thinning blonde hair was speaking. He was skinny and what my Mom would describe as “shifty looking”. He saw that he had gotten my attention and continued to speak.

“Hell! Can you believe that? I mean, I’ve been going to the same family doctor for 20 years and the minute I ask for more pain meds, he tells me to go find another doctor”, he said.

“Why are you taking pain meds and why do you need more?”, I asked.

He replied…..”I hurt my head when I fell on a railroad track a few years ago. The doctor put me on Loratabs and when they quit working, he has to up the dosagee. Those sumabitches are addicting. Ya gotta take more and more for them to work. What I’m takin’ now is not enough and I need a bigger dose.”

So, I said….”How did you fall on a railroad track? And, why don’t you try to wean off of the Loratabs instead of increasing the amount?”

Turns out that he fell on the railroad track while walking it stoned out of his head. And, he wants to wean off the Loratabs…Yeah, right.

Then he asks me what time it is and when I tell him, he states that he has a lawyer’s appt. at 3 oclock and doesn’t want to be late. Of course, I bite and ask him what the lawyers appt is for. He began to tell me that somebody planted 4 weed plants in flower pots outside of his house. The cops came along, saw them, and he was charged. He says that he has already spent six thousand dollars in lawyer’s fees trying to beat the rap.

This was becoming quite an interesting conversation. He starts in on a new tale of how he had filed for disability social security for another injury. As I was asking him what the injury was, I was interrupted by an elderly lady saying, “Hey…ya got any candy in your purse?” No, I didn’t have any. Then, “Hey, where should I go buy some new outfits? I need some new clothes!” I suggested Kohl’s, Penney’s….any of the stores in the 3 malls and various shopping centers in the area.

Sheesh….who am I? Dr. Friggin’ Phil with a touch of Oprah/Martha Stewart thrown in?

She was about to ask me something else but her name was called! Hall-a-loo-ya! One down and one to go.

Azure Blue Guy is starting to pace because he’s going to miss his lawyer’s appointment. I suggest that he call his lawyer and explain that he won’t be there. So, he goes up to the receptionist and ask to use the phone. The lawyer’s answering machine apparently picked up and he said, “Hey, I’m not gonna make my appt. with you today. I had to bring my cousin to the doctor and we’re still here.”

When he sat back down, I said, “So, you are not here to see a doctor?”

And he said, “No. I brought my cousin because he has”……he put his hand up to his mouth as if to hide what he was going to tell me from everyone else…except there was nobody else waiting now except him and me…..”genital warts!” I suppose that I should have been a tad bit shocked but I’ve heard so many stories from people in doctor’s offices, I didn’t even blink. However, I’m pretty sure that I blinked a time or two when he started describing his cousin’s problem.

“Them things is naaasty!, he said, “He’s got ‘em all over his”…and with that he pointed to his own groin area. “And they’re spreading, too! Startin’ to ooze stuff!”

I was beginning to pray that he would just shut up now. He didn’t but at least he stopped the description of his cousin’s genital area problem. He declared how happy he was that he didn’t have genital warts because he had never cheated on his wife. But….he was going to because he had gotten a large settlement from SSI and she and her Mama had somehow managed to take it out of their joint bank account and put it into an account with only the wife’s name. “And, that’s why I’m living in my car! That bitch is gonna be sorry. And her bitch Mama, too”, he finished. After that angry rant, he needed to go outside and smoke. While he was out there, his cousin came out of the office and went to the window to pay. I couldn’t help but stare at him and imagine how painful warts on the weenie could be. He stood at the payment window for about 45 seconds. When he saw that no one was around, he just left…leaving his bill laying on the counter. Yep, they were a couple of real losers…but rather interesting, I must say.

I’ve been trying my hand at some weird artsy-fartsy photography lately. I have an idea using fairies. I’ve been shopping around for wings and stuff but have had no luck in any of the stores even with the Halloween stuff. As I was coming home from a lunch with my friend yesterday, I was passing my the Salvation Army. I thought that maybe I could find some stuff in there priced pretty cheap that I could use to make stuff. As I was checking out a display of scarves, I scruffy looking woman came up beside me. She said (out of the clear blue), “I broke my finger last week so I could get some Oxycontin.”  Then she walked away.

Huuhhhhhh?  I’m beginning to wonder if I have one of those faces….that belong to a drug dealer. 

Spam of the Day….

I got this in my email. I get spam from people pushing sex aids all the time. But, this is one of the best ever……

You’RreNnotA_SeexIlesssPokemmon!YouArreAPowrefulSex_trnafsoormer‏

Since I know nothing about Pokemmon or “trnafsoormers”, I googled both.

From a Pokemon fan blog…..

Pokemon sexes……” We know Meowth is a guy, and it’s quite probable to assume Jiggly Puff and the Clefairy are either female or gay. But really, do they even bother giving other Pokemon sexes? Most of the time they don’t even give them idividual names. I have this gut feeling Pikachu is a guy Pikachu, but how can one be sure? Which brings me to my second point…how do sexless Pokemon have sex?! Well, we can imagine that Meowth’s would do it the normal way since they’ve been defined by sexes, although they do have the distinct lack of genatalia. But Pikachu…well, first it would have to work out if it was a guy or a girl, and then probably call up Pooka or Sparky and ask whether they’ve decided what sexes they are, and just his luck they would have decided they were the same sex as him/her, hence…well, we get gay shippiness from half the population, and the other half demanding a sex change.”

Transformer sex…found this on a transformer fan blog…

“There are many prudes out there who think two war androids making love is frightening and confusing. However, the enlightened among us know that sex between two consenting Transformers is a beautiful thing, and it’s part of God’s plan. Specifically, it’s part of God’s plan to watch Transformers doing it.Clanking metal. Vocoded moans. Missiles launching in ecstasy. If the great Renaissance painters knew about Transformers, they would have chiseled naked sculptures of Frenzy and Hot Rod, instead of The Thinker or that other guy.”

The following picture is apparently of two Transformers “doing it”.

Not so sure that I want to be either one. I think I’ll wait for the Hello Kitty vs The Brats spam email.

The Hill Witch and The Guy Who Beat Up A Horse……

I swear that everyone and everything written about/mentioned in the following FaceBook post is an acutal person/event. No joke. TPSkipper, my nephew, and I were on FB late last night commenting on people in our lifes. Yes, I am either directly kin or “in-law kin” to every single person written about. This all started with TPSkipper posting about my brother being hit with a LIVE chicken by my Dad when he was a boy. My Dad had a bad temper and when pissed off, he had the terrible habit of picking up whatever happened to be around and hitting my brothers with it. I don’t remember him doing this to my or my sisters but do remember the times my brothers got blindsided with whatever was handy. On this occasion, my oldest brother was helping my Dad do something in our hen house. My brother did something that pissed my Dad off and Dad picked up one of the chickens and began flogging him on the head, shoulders, and back. My brother was not physically hurt but still carries the memory of the feathers whipping across his face and the poor chicken squaaking like crazy. Amazing enough, neither the chicken nor my brother were physically hurt from the incident. I suppose that is why he can laugh about it when he tells the story to this day.

That’s what started the following FB post and many, many comments. I have not changed anything. I copied and pasted some from FB. However, there were so many comments, that for some reason, I could not retrieve them all from FB. So, instead, I went to my email notifications and copied and pasted from there. That is why the format looks different from time to time.

Andrea Plumley Sullivan Recently heard at one of our Family get togethers: “Do you remember the time he beat me with a live chicken?” which made me wonder if I should feel sorry for the Victim, the chicken or the Assailant for being that crazy. We definatly do not live boring lives.

Andrea wrote:
“I personally would like to hear the story the chicken told after it happened, that is assuming the chicken lived.”

Mark wrote:
“He was what they had for dinner “

Mark wrote:
“But they learned…and ate good “

Andrea wrote:
“Oh my. Well that was one way to multi-task I suppose, discipline the children while preparing dinner.”

Tina M wrote:”My Dad must be there”.

Mr. X  wrote:”I’d like to see that video.”

Mark wrote:
“Whats the video called? “When Grandpas Go Wild”?”

Andrea wrote:
“You all enjoyed this story so much we should have him post on my wall the story of my Great Aunt Maud the Hill Witch who found a human leg in her yard but was so crazy that she couldn’t be a witness for the murder trial that the leg was soon connected to. She thought she was married to Jack Van Impe and upon the witness stand they asked her to state her name and she kept saying “Maud Van Impe”.”

Peggy Foose Plumley wrote:I swear both of the above stories are true. God bless their hearts. Poor Hill Witch Maude…she totally lost her marbles in her last years. She lived up a hollow in the mountains with elevnity dogs and no electricity. Now, let’s talk about the our “werewolf” relative.

Andrea wrote:
“Ok in all fairness though he wasn’t blood kin, he was an In Law.”

Mark wrote:
“Elbert??”

Andrea wrote:
“I was about to say that mom! Elbert was the one who hatched his blue egged chickens in KFC Buckets and couldn’t figure out why we thought it was so funny he kept them in there.” 

Mark wrote:
“Just teaching them young. Just teaching them life is not like a box chocolates…it’s about being a bucket of chicken.”

Peggy wrote: “That Chicken Man was really RIPPED, too”.

Andrea wrote:
“Is he really ripped? rofl that you noticed hahaha”

Peggy wrote: “Well, he was ripped but a tad bit slow…..didn’t know how to lock the bathroom doors. A story I’d rather not tell here.”

 Mark wrote:
“Hey…my uncle can beat up all your uncles at once!!”

Peggy wrote:”Yes, he can….all your uncles, their wives, and their neighbors…at one time.”

Mark wrote:
“That ole Elbart…what a man!!.

Mark said: “ He beat up a horse once”.

Peggy wrote: “He’s like Kentucky Fried Popeye!”

Peggy wrote…”It’s true. He did beat up a horse once.”

Mark wrote:
“KFP!!!!”

Andrea wrote:
“You guess the extra chromosome gives him the brawn? Wonder which genetic Trisomy gives you good chicken breedin’ smarts and whoop a$$ arms.”

Andrea wrote:
“OMG Mark I wish I could like that comment twice at least. Tell us a story cousin Mark, about the time Elbert beat up a horse!
See folks this is why I became a vegetarian, to make up for all of the animal cruelty going on in our family!”

Mark wrote:
“Yep…was drunk and wanted to ride it but it was moving from him. Grabbed the poor thing in a headlock and…well…the horse fell
I have tears in my eyes typing this!!!!!!”
 

Peggy wrote: “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, animal lovers. He had a love/hate relationship with the horse. They kissed and made up later”.

Peggy said…”Elbert was like The Redneck Circle of Life”.

*****note: at this point, youtube videos of The Cirlce of Life and Dueling Banjos were inserted but I’m not going to take up the space to post those.

Peggy wrote..”I was half-expecting a video of a man rasslin’ a horse”.

Mark wrote:
“Sorry, no Mr Ed videos”

Andrea wrote:
“You guys have to stop. I’m laughing so hard I’m going to pee my pants. The best part is it’s all true rofl”

Mark wrote:
“Where di Andrea go? To pee or to change?”

Peggy wrote:..”probably both……:)”

Mark wrote:
“Wear Depends then she wouldn’t have to worry”

Peggy said: “Annie, we need to write a redneck, white trash song about our family so you and your group can sing it. We need to include the tatooed Bear Dancer that we met at McDonald’s this evening.

Andrea wrote:
“Oh dear Lord don’t get going on the Bear Dance from McDonalds. I got to hear it all the way home that I shouldn’t be giving my cell phone number out to every friendless Bear Dancer I meet blah blah blah”

Andrea wrote:
“Oh yes indeed we can figure out 3 part harmony to it and I’ll write a part for her instrument of choice (my guess would be washboard or jug, possibly the juice harp, but it’s completely up to her)”

Andrea wrote:
“You write the song and I’ll annotate it.”

Andrea wrote:
“Somebody grab a scrap of paper! Let the Vomit Composing BEGIN!”
 
Mark wrote:
“YEEE HAWWWWW”

Mark wrote:
“Well…can you sing it too.”

Mark wrote:
“But wear your boots to sing it!!!! And remove a few teeth…give us that family feel to it”

Mark wrote:
“The Elbert went down to the chicken coope
He was looking to make into a meal”

Peggy wrote: ‘OMG, Mark…that’s funny and I don’t care who ya are”.

Andrea wrote: “I feel sorry for all the people who “liked” this and are going to get over a 100 notifications in the morning.”

Andrea wrote:
“Once again FB friends who casually commented and “liked” this post I am sorry for all of the notifications you will be getting. You must admit though they are interesting if nothing else I also swear that they are all true!”

.

11 hours ago ·

Mark Salmon If they laugh as hard as I have…hope they pee before reading this

11 hours ago ·UnlikeLike ·  1 personLoading…

Peggy Foose Plumley DO NOT WARN THEM! I wan’t to image all of those people peeing their pants at work/school/home in the morning. It will make me smile all day.

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Mark Salmon Annie…you have 100 comments on this post

11 hours ago ·UnlikeLike ·  1 personLoading…

Peggy Foose Plumley Getting late or we could talk about the time Ralph made Buddy Turley a dog turd sandwich.  And, he ate it.” 

Mark Salmon The good ole days…

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Peggy Foose Plumley I think Annie has had all the new family tales/secrets that she can handle for one night. Anybody up for tomorrow nite?

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Mark Salmon ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME!!!!!!!!!

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Mark Salmon Sleep good Peg. This was good medicine

11 hours ago ·UnlikeLike ·  2 peopleLoading…

Peggy Foose Plumley We can do it, Mark. I remember when Calvin use to have a bicycle with a basket on the front and he was like 35 or something. He’d put Shelby in the basket and ride around. OMG! That was funny!

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Peggy Foose Plumley Funny…but weird…had to add that.

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Andrea Plumley Sullivan I let Shawn read the post and after a small rant again on giving my cell phone number out to Friendless Bear Dancers he brought up the Turd Sandwich but I see you’ve beaten me to it!

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Mark Salmon He liked her. Putting her butt in his basket

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Andrea Plumley Sullivan Don’t forget him dressing up like a clown and dragging that HUGE cross behind him!

Peggy wrote: “Yeah, it was if front of that state run child care center because they took L*** away from him. He was protesting….as a clownfaced Jesus carrying a cross!”

11 hours ago ·UnlikeLike ·

Peggy Foose Plumley yeah, who needs prescription or street drugs when we got US!

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Peggy Foose Plumley OMG! Yes, he did! Freakin’ side show!!!! Really? What was he suppose to be Circus Jesus? Crazy!

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Mark Salmon Or remember how he nutered his own dog. YIKES!!

11 hours ago ·UnlikeLike ·  2 peopleLoading…

Peggy Foose Plumley hahahahaha…..yep! We got the makings of a Redneck Reality show here.

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike ·  1 personLoading…

Andrea Plumley Sullivan Once again FB friends who casually commented and “liked” this post I am sorry for all of the notifications you will be getting. You must admit though they are interesting if nothing else I also swear that they are all true!

11 hours ago ·UnlikeLike ·  1 personLoading…

Andrea Plumley Sullivan Is that true Mark!?!?

11 hours ago ·UnlikeLike ·  1 personLoading…

Peggy Foose Plumley Every single one of them!!!!!! Don’t be jelllllllous!

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Peggy Foose Plumley the dog? Yes, it is. There’s so much that I’ve waited until you were older to tell you. hahahaha

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike ·  1 personLoading…

Mark Salmon Unfortunately they are true…BUT…we survived!!!!!

11 hours ago ·UnlikeLike ·  1 personLoading…

Andrea Plumley Sullivan Now there is a frugal blog post I haven’t written yet, how to neuter your own dog!

11 hours ago ·UnlikeLike ·  1 personLoading…

Peggy Foose Plumley Cause we are like Super Human WHite Trash Redneck People!

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Mark Salmon Only thing you need is a rubber band…..

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike ·  1 personLoading…

Andrea Plumley Sullivan YIKES!

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Peggy Foose Plumley and get some nifty rearview mirror danglings…..

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike ·  1 personLoading…

Mark Salmon Now you see why I “YIKES!!”

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Andrea Plumley Sullivan See Mark you HAVE TO come on that cruise with us! We will have sooooooooo much fun together.

11 hours ago ·UnlikeLike ·  2 peopleLoading…

Peggy Foose Plumley Is “YIKES” because you tired it?

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Mark Salmon Well…we can’t let them know we are related UNTIL the ship leaves the harbor

11 hours ago ·UnlikeLike ·  2 peopleLoading…

Peggy Foose Plumley tried it?

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Andrea Plumley Sullivan I have officially reached a family milestone of most comments on a post. Let’s see the Associated Press pick this one up Megan

11 hours ago ·UnlikeLike ·  1 personLoading…

Peggy Foose Plumley I seriously believe that this good be pasted all over the internet if we had our profiles set to public….uh….you don’t do you?

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Andrea Plumley Sullivan Ok I have to go to bed. I am going to be a grouch in the morning and my throat officially hurts from laughing so much.

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Mark Salmon WVa vasectomy? Nope…I still have bullets

11 hours ago ·UnlikeLike ·  1 personLoading…

Peggy Foose Plumley I could just copy and past this post and comments and have on of the best blog posts EVER in my blog.

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Andrea Plumley Sullivan Is that supposed to be “could be”. Has your friend Gin come to visit tonight mom?

11 hours ago ·UnlikeLike ·  1 personLoading…

Mark Salmon Over 121 comments…we need a life

11 hours ago ·UnlikeLike ·  2 peopleLoading…

Peggy Foose Plumley OK..y’all be thinking of more stuff that has happened and we will do this again tomorrow night. I’m going to bed because yelling at TWO hard of hearing guys all day has worn me out!

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Andrea Plumley Sullivan Feel free to copy and paste anything I said. I don’t put anything on here I wouldn’t want to be read in public.

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike

Mark Salmon Night girls

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Peggy Foose Plumley ‎@Mark…uh…we have a life…we just wrote about it!
@Annie…no, GIn, stayed in tonight. My hand and fingers are tired from doing sign language all day. Remember, I’ve had two old deaf guys to deal with for the last two days!”

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Andrea Plumley Sullivan In the morning you have to tell me what the ” nifty rearview mirror danglings…..” were for!

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Peggy Foose Plumley night, loves….tomorrow night, only earlier, ok?

11 hours ago ·LikeUnlike ·  1 personAndrea Plumley Sullivan likes this.

Peggy Foose Plumley hope I don’t have a damn nightmare about dog genitals and men rasslin’ horses or finding a leg in my yard…..or even worse, a Clown Jesus

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Peggy Foose Plumley or Clown Jesus dancing with the Bear Skin Tatooed Dancing chick.

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So, there ya go, readers. This is what my family is really like and ya know what….I LOVE THEM!!!!!!!

It’s My Blogarty and I’ll Whine If I Want To….

WARNING: THIS BLOG POST HAS MORE THAN MY NORMAL AMOUNT OF CURSE WORDS/PHRASES. NOW….READ ON…..

Contrary to blogosphere rumors, I am not dead!  I’ve just been a very, very, very busy White Trash woman lately. That and the fact that Facebook is addictive and I find myself  checking updates waaaaay too much. I now know more than I ever did or ever wanted to about family, friends, “faux friends”, casual acquaintances, and people who I don’t even have a clue who they are. 

Check it out…I think I just made up a brand new slang word….blogarty…..a party in a blog!

And since it IS my blog, I can throw any kind of party that I want. The theme of this blogarty is “I hate” and you just discuss things that you hate or piss you off. Feel free to join in……

I hate fucking Viking appliances. They cost 3 times as much as Whirlpool, Kenmore, Frigidaire, GE, etc but only last about 1/3 as long.  They suck ass!

I hate it when people cry discrimination even when they know there is none involved in whatever they are crying around about. SHUT THE HELL UP…..and go read the story of the little boy who cried wolf. After you allege discrimination one too many times, nobody is going to believe you if there is real discrimination.

I hate these damn annoying recorded political campaign calls. STOP IT! You’re wasting your money. With the exception of really lonely or crazy people, everyone HANGS UP THE PHONE as soon as they hear a recorded voice. But, here is what I hate EVEN MORE……the obvious fact that local politicians (who are proclaiming their hard work on saving/creating jobs) are outsourcing live calls to India. Do they think that I don’t know that the caller cannot speak English very well and that I can hear the chatter of the call room in the background? Now, those are some stupid politicians. I have found the best way to stop some of the calls in their tracks is to declare yourself to be from the Militant Amish party. Yeah, we like a peaceful life but we’ll shoot your ass if you mess with us! We are….

(kind of like Girls Gone Wild except we will show you are Smith and Wessons instead of our tits)

I hate the Nancy Grace show….she is one of the most annoying biotches EVER! I do not want to hear about her twins first….1.word 2.potty time 3.steps.4. time at the ocean or any thing else that they do! And, what’s up with that screaming woman that comes on her show. I did an internet search and could not find her picture and I cannot remember her name. She’s the only one who screams louder than Grace does.

I hate days when I can’t get my racing thoughts organized enough to write them down. Like today. And last week. Last week, thoughts about my life in general kept running through my head. Fantastic material for a poem (I do write the occasional poem). The phrase “looking over her shoulder” kept popping up in my head. But, my thoughts were so rapid and disorganized, the poem on paper resembled a project from a special-ed class.  It was terrible! Cheezits….it read like it was written by a one-armed, homeless, drunk schizophrenic . No rhyme or reason. So, I thought I could make it into a haiku. That came out sounding like something Snookie would have written while sleeping off a drunk in a jail cell. Or, Snookie collaborating with Lindsey Lohan on a coke binge after they had both been screwed by Carrot Top. Simply pitiful!

I hate coupons! No, I love coupons. OK…I have a hate/love relationship with coupons. My frugal side (aka stingy, cheap) makes me obsessive about clipping coupons. My go-with-the-flow (aka Eatshit) side finds me secretly hoping that they are expired when it’s time to go grocery shopping. I try to (unconsciously…haha) sneak away from the house and leave the damn coupons on the counter. But, my cheap-ass side badgers me until I reluctantly go back and fetch them. DAMN COUPONS!

And, I hate Victoria Beckham. Stupid cow (technically, she’s not a cow since cows would tip over if they were that damn skinny). Why? Because she was on The View (don’t get me started on Bawbawa and Joy-oy!) hawking her clothing line which she claims is for real women. Real women of where? Ethiopia?  For crikeys sake, Vic, you wear a friggin’ size ZERO! I’ve never worn a ZERO…not even at birth! So, kiss my fat ass, VB!

I hate doing something original and having somebody copy me without giving me credit. I Vomit Blog! TPSkipper informed me that it is actually….

‎”Stream of consciousness writing aims to provide a textual equivalent to the stream of a fictional character’s consciousness. It creates the impression that the reader is eavesdropping on the flow of conscious experience in the character’s… mind, gaining intimate access to their private “thoughts”. It involves presenting in the form of written text something that is neither entirely verbal nor textual.” She said that she found that on the internet. Well, I wanna know what asshat stole my “vomit writing” idea? I’ll bet it was that asshole, Jack  Kerouac. What a dick!

Glad I got those things off my chest. I have soooo many more things but time on this day is running out and I’ve got zilch, nada, nothing accomplished (except to pay the Viking repairman $150.00 bucks to fix my frig and oven. The damn oven is still not working).

Gotta run…..

Have a nice day!

PS…I DO LIKE Cruzan Pineapple Rum. Not only is it delicious, it gets me through really crappy days.

 

 

 

IF Facebook Existed Years Ago….

Don’t know where this originated but it’s funny. If anyone knows who wrote it, please let me know so that I can give them credit. 

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__________________

Bananas Going Bad……

I haven’t been here much lately. It’s not that I don’t have anything going on in my life. It’s because I am in a manic state of mind. This is not to be confused with what is normally thought of as a state of mania. I wish…..

In a true manic state, you have soooo much energy, hardly any need to sleep or eat, and have grandiose ideas. If only the mind is manic, the result is just lots of ideas and thoughts that move through rapidly and produce nothing really productive. For the last while, my mind has raced so much that it’s a miracle that it hasn’t burned out. It’s no fun at all. At this minute, I am having a hard time concentrating on sitting here and writing this. My brain is showing previews of things to come at a warped speed.

I, also, must constantly remind myself of this…..

an overcrowded brain has got to be better than an empty brain! Right?

But, post…I must! I must post or risk losing interest in blogging. Losing interest in projects is all too frequent for me. I have at least a dozen things that I have started today alone. And, not one is completed yet. I’ll be patting myself on the back tonight if I can just finish one or two.

Since I know that if I starting writing about crap in my life, I’d make no sense and ramble on for so long the readers would lose interest, I’m taking the easy way out….

How to Tell If Your Banana Is Going Bad….

Got that in my email and it really made me laugh. Hope you get a giggle, too.

Also, I wanted to mention the really strange link that is showing up in my “referral links”. I have no idea what it is and to be honest, am afraid to click on it. If I click on it, I’m probably going to be bombarded with crap linked to it. The link is

(and I’m not going to link to it, either)……”freesexmovie”. WTH? I am curious as to why that site is linking to me, though. But, not curious enough to go to it. It does make me wonder what I wrote that would be of interest to visitor’s to that site. I’ve learned my lesson, though, about clicking on just any old thing that has a link posted. Last week, I got on FB only to find out that I “liked PalTalk”. I think that was the name of it but it could have been slightly different. Anyway, I innocently clicked on it to see what it was that I liked and it was a gay chatroom. I’m not bustin’ on gay people so don’t anyone get their panties in a wad and make ugly comments. But, I seriously have no clue how I liked it start with.  Listen, people, be careful what you click on!

Shit…I intended to write at least something with substance and worth reading but am finding that impossible right now. My thoughts are straying to Lady GaGa’s meat dress…..which in turn is making me think about grocery shopping…which in turn is making me think about working out because I ate to much this weekened…which in turn is making me think back to the VMA’s (because I was eating while watching) and Justin Bieber….seriously, JUSTIN BIEBER WON AN AWARD!!!?????….which is turn is making me think about New Kids On The Block…which in turn….and so forth and so forth and so on…..

So….until my mind quiets down….I am Crowded Brain Barbie!

You Know You Are Trailerpark Trash When…..

Don’t know the original author of this list but would happy to give them credit. This was submitted to I’mNotRightInTheHead  by Ron Culley.

You know you are Trailer Park Trash when…

-Your house moves but your car don’t.

-You take your dog for a walk and you both use the same tree.

-You can entertain yourself for more than 15 minutes with a fly swatter.

-Your boat has not left the driveway in 15 years.

-You burn your yard rather than mow it.

-You think “The Nutcracker” is something you do off the high dive.

-The Salvation Army declines your furniture.

-You offer to give someone the shirt off your back and they don’t want it.

-You have the local taxidermist on speed dial.

-You come back from the dump with more than you took.

- You keep a can of Raid on the kitchen table.

- Your wife can climb a tree faster than your cat.

- Your grandmother has “ammo” on her Christmas list.

-You keep flea and tick soap in the shower.

-You’ve been involved in a custody fight over a hunting dog.

- You go to the stock car races and don’t need a program.

-You know how many bales of hay your car will hold.

-You have a rag for a gas cap.

-Your house doesn’t have curtains, but your truck does.

-You wonder how service stations keep their rest-rooms so clean.

-You can spit without opening your mouth.

-You consider your license plate personalized because your father made it.

-Your lifetime goal is to own a fireworks stand.

-You have a complete set of salad bowls and they all say “Cool Whip” on the side.

-The biggest city you’ve ever been to is Wal-Mart.

-Your working TV sits on top of your non-working TV.

-You’ve used your ironing board as a buffet table.

-A tornado hits your neighborhood and does $100,000 worth of improvements.

-You’ve used a toilet brush to scratch your back.

-You missed your 5th grade graduation because you were on jury duty.

-You think fast food is hitting a deer at 65.

-You let your twelve-year-old daughter smoke at the dinner table . . . in front of her kids.

-You’ve been married three times and still have the same in-laws.

-You think a woman who is “out of your league” bowls on a different night.

-Jack Daniels makes your list of “most admired people.”

-You wonder how service stations keep their restrooms so clean.

-Anyone in your family ever died right after saying: “Hey watch this.”

-You think Dom Perignon is a Mafia leader.

-Your wife’s hairdo was once ruined by a ceiling fan.

-Your junior prom had a daycare.

-You think the last words of the Star Spangled Banner are:
“Gentlemen start your engines.”

-You lit a match in the bathroom and your house exploded right off its wheels.

-The bluebook value of your truck goes up and down, depending on how much gas is in it.

-You have to go outside to get something from the fridge.

-One of your kids was born on a pool table.

-You need one more hole punched in your card to get a freebie at the House of Tattoos.

-You can’t get married to your sweetheart because there’s a law against it.

-You think “loaded dishwasher” means your wife is drunk.

-Your toilet paper has page numbers on it.

-Your front porch collapses and kills more than five animals.

-At some point in your life you’ve been too drunk to fish.

-The Halloween pumpkin on your porch has more teeth than your spouse.

Still proud to be…….

More Fun Than Ya Can Shake a Stick At……

 

 

WV is the most medicated state, according to Forbes.

 According to Forbes, Much of the American South is ailing, with West Virginia the worst off–at least, if the rate of prescription drug use is any indication. The state filled 17.7 prescriptions per capita compared to a national average of 11.5, according to Verispan, a health care information company. 

“The growth in prescription drug use,” says Barlow, is driven in part by “chronic diseases that are largely preventable and are linked to lifestyle and physical activity.”

I don’t disagree with the statement by Dr.  Barlow. However, those are not the only reasons that West Virginians are taking more drugs than the national average. She neglected to mention that psych drugs and pain killers are handed out around here like candy on Halloween. It has become a source of extra income for many “disabled” people. You know who I’m referring to….not people who really have a disability. NOOOOO! This area is flooded with people who have become” injured and unable to work”.

Before I moved to My Boogerwoods Home, I had actual people neighbors…not just squirrels, deers, foxes, bears, etc.  In 1 out of 3 homes, there dwelled people who had been declared unable/unfit to work. Although, at any given day, you could look outside and see them mowing their yards, riding their 4-wheelers, building another tacky shed, riding horses, and who knows what else. Many of those people sold their prescription drugs on the street. I’m not making this up. It’s a fact.

There is one psych doctor in town who has a large parking lot. That lot is always full of cars….and people. I use to wonder why  people were always standing around or sitting in their cars on that lot when I’d pass by. I figured it was the ol’ “take your whole family to your appt.” thing since that’s a cheap form of entertainment around here. That’s a fact, too. Lacie (I know, I know, I keep bringing her up but she such a good example of what’s wrong) use to go to the ER on a regular basis on weekend nights. She would recount stories of  all these different people by names. When I’d ask her how she know so-and-so, she would state, “Oh, I met them at the ER last Friday night”.  Apparently, the ER had become a social gathering spot for unemployed and unable to work people who have no conscience about abusing the money that we (taxpayers) have to fork over to the government every year. Just yesterday evening, I was going to a yoga class that was being held behind the ER at this hospital. I was awe-struck at the number of people dressed in hospital gowns that were sitting outside on some benches having a cigarette. Lord have mercy! If those people felt like going outside, lighting up, and having a talkfest, then what the hell were they doing at the emergency room? When I think of the ER, I think of car wrecks, heart attacks, broken necks, blood, vomit, blood, vomit, etc. No wonder our taxes are so friggin’ much!!!!!

   Anyway, back to the psych doc’s set-up. One day, I was talking to my crazy sister-in-law (who goes to that psych doc) and she said that people sell/buy/trade their prescriptions/drugs right on the lot. Seems like it’s a lucrative business.

Once, I was in line at a pharmacy to get a prescription filled.  There was a man who looked like he was in his early 20′s standing right behind me. Fit as a fiddle, as they say. He had muscles with tattoos all over him. And, he was a chatty one, for sure. He informed me that if I ever wanted some “oxy” (Oxycontin), all I need do was tell the doctor that my back hurt and I was allergic to anything else. I guess that’s good to know if I ever want to develop a hydrocodone/Oxycontin habit. I’ll lock that little gem away for future reference, I guess.

I shouldn’t be talking bad about those people because I am in the need of drugs right now. Living with TPKen is going to result in me being locked away in a padded room. Yep, he’s been up to his ol’ hair-raising antics again! His driving is turning totally into a thrill ride.  I never know exactly when or how but I do know that at some point while riding with him, I am going to be scared shitless.

Or, as in the case this past weekend, EMBARRASSED.

Friday night, we went over to TrailerparkMidge’s house where we had an absolutely delicious meal of grilled fillet mignons and veggies. Then, we sat around on the back deck and chatted for a long time. I let the time get away from me and before I knew it, it was dark outside. Holy crappola! I immediately became panicky because riding with TPK after dark is like standing next to a  vampire’s coffin at dusk. You know you’re gonna get fanged and you can’t stop the night’s darkness! Plus, you don’t have garlic, silver, or a stake on you at the moment.

OK…The vampire reference was for a very selfish reason. I just wanted to post this picture of Eric Northman, the sexy vampire on True Blood.  Now, I’ll take a few minutes and drool…….

I want me some of that Eric.

I began to immediately urge TPK to go home. But, I realized with a sick feeling in my stomach, that it was already tooooo late! The sun had set and the sky was dark!. I felt like I was going to piss my pants right then and there. Or, puke. Or, call for a police escort. Or, beg to stay the night with TPMidge.

But, instead I gathered up my courage and pushed TPK out the door. I strapped myself in and readied myself for some excitement. And, that wasn’t long in coming, either. TPK was backing out of the driveway. And, he back out…and back out some more….even though it was not an abnormally long driveway. TPK’s pimpmobile (gigantic hulkin’ Tahoe) has a backup beeper system…and it started going off. And, he kept backing…and you know where this is going, don’tcha? Yep…when he hit something, I was afraid to even look and see what it was. Silently praying that it was not a car, or, God forbid, a person, I finally snuck a look at the side mirror. And, what I saw was people rushing out of their homes to see what the hell had happened.  TPMidge liveBs in a very nice neighborhood and has some locally prominent people as neighbors. I saw Judge  B*****de and his lovely companion (she owns a very busy beauty shop in town) running out to view the damage. What TPKen had hit was one of those big, Rubbermaid mailboxes….like this….

Of course, it was cemented into the ground. After he hit it, it looked like this…only green….

I slunked down in my seat hoping not to be seen by any of the people. I mean, seriously…..I didn’t want to take a chance that one day I’d have to stand before The Judge for some reason and have him recognize me as the woman in the car driven by the crazy driver. TPMidge opened my door and said, “Don’t you want to get out and look?” I just said, “Shut the damn door before anyone sees me!” She said, “Don’t you think they will recognize this SUV when you come back here?”  And, I said, “Look, sweetie, do you really think that I’m stupid enough to show up here again in this car? Hell, no!  I’ll be driving my own little car and no one will recognize me or my car! Now, shut the friggin’ door so the dome light will go out!”

Almost before I could get those words out, there was a familiar face at the window saying, “Are you alright?”  Well, damn Sam…it was my friggin’ doctor!!!! Well, ex-doctor…except she didn’t know that she was my “ex” just yet. I’d been cheating on her by going to see another doctor that I found more reliable. My “ex” had a habit of calling in the wrong prescription strenght’s or leaving town before she even called in the prescriptions. Hey, I told ya a few paragraphs up that I need medicated from time to time.  Now, let me just say here that my “ex” is absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. Stunning figure, long blonde hair, and intense blue ees. She should be on one of those stupid commericals for eye drops …you know the one where both of those women sound like they are reading straight off of a cue card. But,  I’m not going to pay a doctor to look good, Hell no! My current doctor is about 5 feet tall and weighs a good 250 lbs. But, she’s reliable and a good doctor. She always hands over my Valium and muscle relaxors as soon as I request them. Now, that’s a good physician. But, I digress….as soon as I saw that silky, shiny hair, cute button nose, and pouty lips attached to my “ex” doctor, I slunk all the way down to the floorboard. In a husky, mannish voice (or at least that was how I was trying to disguise my own voice), I said, “No, thanks. I’m just allergic to…….grass.” Grass? It was the only thing that came to mind at the time. Well, actually, “flashlights” came to mind but who would believe that anyone is allergic to flashlights?

Finally, after what seemed like hours, TPKen got back in the pimpmobile and we left.  Oh, yeah, that mailbox episode is costing about $1400.00.  Glad we have insurance but we do have a 500 dollar deductible! TPKen’s tank only suffered some broken glass on a tail light so I don’t know how insurance or the body shop arrived at that figure. Which brings me to the next TPKen incident ….

After trying and failing to talk TPK into postponing forking out 500 bucks  of hard earned cash for a friggin’ tail light, I was pretty pissed off about the whole thing. I swear, y’all, sometimes TPK is like having a retarded child. Yes, I know that “retarded” is not PC but it’s my blog…not the PC police’s. And, it would be unfair to mentally challenged children to compare them to TPK’s lack of common sense and inability to grasp simple words and/or phrases…such as, “Don’t be an idiot! You’re gonna hit something again (probably in the near future) and you should wait and fork over the 500 bucks then.” Of course, he didn’t hear me…which is his way of saying that he doesn’t listen worth shit.

So, being already pissed off, I was not a happy camper when he informed me that he was going to go to my yoga class. Now, this was my first yoga class. I use to do yoga to a DVD but the guy on the video wore a ding-sling (a small piece of cloth in his crotch area) and I couldn’t concentrate on The Downward Dog. And Wagging the Dog (a yoga pose) took on a whole new meaning while watching that ding-sling enrobed man. I had to quit. Now, every time I hear “yoga”, I automatically think, “ding-sling”.

I didn’t want TPK going with me. I was pissed. Besides that, he was going to wear his hardtoe work boots and jeans. I’ve already told y’all that he runs like a penguin and I couldn’t begin to imagine his “penguin yoga”. Sheesh…I had already been embarrassed by his mailbox accident. Did I really deserve to have him tag along and sit and watch us doing yoga? Yep, sit and watch was what he had planned.  Since I felt like I had been subjected to enough humiliation, I informed him that we would take separate cars. I explained to him that he would probably get bored and want to leave. Actually, I had already formed a devious plan in my mind. I gave him some half-assed general directions to the place and then I took off in a mad dash to my car. Usually, I am much faster than TPK. But, for some odd reason, he was fairly quick on his feet this time. Uh oh…I’d better put my plan into overdrive. Now, as I’ve told y’all before, TPK not only drives crazy but he drives S-L-O-W. I figured I had a good chance of losing him and he wouldn’t be able to find the yoga place.

Gravel flew out behind me as I sped away from my house. Aha! TPK drives especially sloooooow on the gravel road. He thinks he might damage his car. How ironic, huh? I pulled onto the main road driving quite a bit faster than normal. All the while, I was checking my rear view mirror to make sure that he was not catching up. I ran a couple of yellow lights which is something that I am normally very careful to not do. I began to chuckle to myself and was feeling somewhat less pissed off. I pulled into the parking lot (which is the one of the ER that I mentioned above), all the while congratulating myself on my driving skills. NASCAR…here I come. You could have knocked me over with a feather when I pulled into a parking spot only to see TPK emerging from his Tahoe. WTF? Seriously….how the hell did that happen? And, I sure wasn’t about to ask him how he got there so fast. Honestly, I’m still at a lost on! the explanation! So, I went to my first yoga class with my retarded son/husband in tow. He sat in a chair right behind me and watched the whole damn hour! So, not only did I spend the whole hour worrying about letting a fart in the direction of the instructor who was a mere 4 ft in front of me, I was very aware of TPK sitting there like a judge at the Olympics.

At least, the instructor wasn’t wearing a little ding-sling. After the class, I stayed behind to talk to my friend who had met me there. When I got home, TPK said, “I hate to tell ya this but I don’t think I’m going there anymore.” The look on his face showed that he expected me to be disappointed for some reason. But, in reality, it was the first time that I had smiled in over a week.

The Words Spew Forth….

Apparently, my brain is starting to turn its little wheels again.

Still trying to put them together to write a decent post. But, damn brain leakage is still a problem….

What’s going thru my mind?

If Obama wanted to assure everyone that the Gulf coast waters are OK, why did he go all the way to Fla. instead of throwing on his Speedos and jumping in at Louisiana? I think that would say a lot more about how safe the crabs are to eat.

Why does Nancy Grace get so dramatic? Is she trying out for a role on Homicide..Life on the Streets? NANCY GRACE…shut the fuck up!

Why do some people feel that they have to put every single friggin’ thing they do on FaceBook. Honestly, I have a “friend” who posts shit like this everyday….

Just sittin here bored…

Just sittin here wondering about stuff…

Just sittin here thinking….

No..I’m not kidding. And she just had a baby! So, now, it’s….

Just sittin here wondering and holding the baby…

Just sittin here…..blah blah blah

I am soooo tempted to comment this…”Apparently, at one time, you were just sittin’ there. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have a baby”.

While on the subject of FB….how do you deal with a friend of a friend (I guess that would be friend twice removed?) who request that you friend them and when you do, they begin commenting on everything you post? Are FB stalkers dangerous? And what’s the protocol when you find out that this friend-twice-removed has become friends with everyone else who comments on your updates? I’m thinking that there are some scary-ass people out there with no lives of their own.

Another rant about FB….people who collect friends just to say that they have insertnumberhere of friends annoy the hell out of me. Personally, I think those people are insecure in their real lives. I don’t need a bunch of strangers showing up in my friends’ list to validate myself. I, also, refuse to accept friends requests for anyone under 18 years old. Not that I post dirty stuff (well, occasionally, I do) but  I have to ask WTH would some kid that I don’t even know want to be my friend? Where are their parents? I can just see the baby of “just sittin’ here” in 15 yrs or so requesting strangers to friend them. I even had a request from a 12 year old. The weird thing is that I have no idea who that kid was and could not find any connection between her and me. What’s up with that? How did she even get my profile? CRAZY!

and that brings me to something else that really bothers me. Don’t put your little kids pics on internet sites that can be viewed by just anyone. Some of you may remember that I came across a pedophile forum while looking for something totally different. I was sickened by the perverts on that forum. I joined under an assumed identity just to see what those crazies were up to and believe me, it was some disgusting shit. I sent the link to several news programs, Oprah, Perverted Justice,  and local law enforcement agencies. NOT A SINGLE ONE answered me. I checked it recently and sure enough, that pedo forum was still operating. And, two days ago, I googled “nerd forum” to find some funny comments (to post on a FB friend’s wall) and got, instead, another disgusting pedo forum! And, here’s what I really did learn….those scum of the earth search the internet for pictures of kids. Innocent photos that Mom, Dad, Granny, etc. have posted, never dreaming that some asshole is uploading it and jacking off to their little precious babies. DISGUSTING! They need to have their nuts sawed off with a blunt edged knife.

How can people hoard animals? A lady on television right at this minute has over 250 cats! Wouldn’t the hairballs become a huge problem after..oh, I dunno, maybe….10 cats?  I just didn’t realize that there were really so many Crazy Cat Ladies….

Actually, I have a crazy cat lady in my family. Some of y’all might remember Lacie….of Redneck Wedding fame. Lacie had more cats than I could count. I refrained from visiting Lacie very often due to the large population of roaches and cats. Animal control was called by neighbors to investigate the enormous cat population at Lacie’s house. You could go in to her house and the meowing was almost deafening. Cat and kitty heads and paws and tails were popping out of everywhere…under the sofa, on the table, in the closets, behind the commode….danged everywhere! Lacie is not quite right in the head and here is proof. Lacie use to call me up and put her newest cat on the phone. Jeez…on the friggin’ phone as if it wanted to have a conversation about Friskees or flea treatments or something. And, I swear, this is how it went EVERYTIME…

Lacie…”Here Cuddles (or Moby or Johnnycakes or Samson or Shithead, etc), say hi to your Aunt Barbie.”

Me…”Lacie…do NOT put that damn cat on the phone. It CANNOT talk and I will hang up if you do!”

Lacie…”Awww….Bowser (or Mohammed or Pinky or Fatso or…..) just wants to say hi to you.”

Me….”I swear, Lacie….I will hang up if you put that cat on the phone. Don’t do it.”

From the phone….”Meow, meow.”

From the phone on my end….”Clink”…I hung up. And, this didn’t happen just once or twice. Nooooo…..it happened often. I don’t call Lacie anymore unless it’s a family emergency. But, that hasn’t stopped our Lacie. Now, she sends me pictures with her cellphone. Pictures of her and Mr Drake. Her kids. And, her damn cats. Which brings me to another annoyance….

PEOPLE WHO FEEL THE NEED TO FORWARD EVERY DAMN CHAIN EMAIL THAT GET VIA CELLPHONE! STOP IT! I MEAN IT! STOP IT RIGHT NOW! GOD DOES NOT NEED ME TO FORWARD THAT TACKY ANGEL WATCHING OVER A KID PICTURE TO 20 PEOPLE TO PROVE THAT I AM NOT ASHAMED OF HIM!!!!!  I FIND IT VERY HARD TO BELIEVE THAT GOD WANTS ME TO ANNOY THE HELL OUT OF PEOPLE LIKE YOU DO ME BY FORWARDING ALL THOSE STUPID EMAILS!!!!!!

There is one major culprit of the email-forwarding in my life. And, it’s my sister. She not only forwards all of those emails accusing me of being ashamed of God if I don’t forward that crap, she forwards every Winnie the Pooh, Friendship/Sister/Laughing bears, monkeys, babies, and anything else that can make a sound. I’ve texted her back on several occasions and told her that I don’t read that crap and I just delete it so stop wasting my time but she stills does it. Once, I took a picture of my ass and wrote a “you must forward this to 12 people and something good will happen at 7:08 tonight!” text message. The next day I asked her if she got my message and she said that she did and she forwarded it to everyone in her address book. I asked her if she looked at the picture and she admitted that she had not. So, who knows how many people have a picture of my ass on their cellphone now?

Speaking of texting, I was sending one to my friend on Tuesday. Ya see…Tuesday was my anniversary and TPKen aka Big Shithead didn’t buy me anything.  And, made no plans for dinner. So, I decided to spend the afternoon with my good friend, Gin, and got somewhat tipsy. I was emailing my buddy who is on a different time zone. She asked me what time it was here and I texted back, “Dunno…can’t see my clock”. Only, I accidentally left the “l” out of clock. I couldn’t figure out why she texted me back, “That’s the best text message EVER.” Until I looked at my outbox messages. hahahah….seriously, folks, I couldn’t find that either! Before that Hall of Fame For Txt Fuckery, my message to TPSkipper saying, “Send pic of WalMart poop.” was #1.

Ow! My brain is in pain from all these thoughts. So, just one more….

I’m afraid to eat peas now due to the story about that man who had a pea sprout in his lungs.

So, that’s all for now. Gotta run and check on imjustsittinhere and she if she’s moved yet.

And as always….

The Secret To A Stress Free Day…..

 

How about a nice cup of…….

Urban dictionary definition…..the two most versatile words in the world. must be said with an certain extent of apathy and also better said when words are slurred and barely decihperable, i suggest a few beers…..

Saying ‘Fuck It’ is like massage for the mind – relaxing you, releasing tension, giving up on things that aren’t working.

John C. Parkin argues that saying Fuck It is a spiritual act:

That it is the perfect western expression of the eastern ideas of letting go, giving up and finding real freedom by realising that things don’t matter so much (if at all).

This is The Fuck It Way.

It works very simply: if you’re feeling stressed about something, say ‘Fuck It’… you feel instantly better.

Check out  The F*ck It Way. You will find useful articles and great words of wisdom such as:

Life: It’s a four-letter word. Instant ‘fi’ therapy.

‘F*** it’ says John Parkin, waving his arms around. ‘F*** it, f*** it, f*** it.’ It’s quite an outburst, one normally associated with a stubbed toe or a parking ticket.

He is, however, just showing me how he deals with modern life and all that goes with it: our obsession with how we look, the pressure to own a nice home and the stress of paying the bills.

For Parkin, saying ‘FI’ (we will refer to ‘f*** it’ like this – it is Monday morning after all) to something causing you misery or anxiety allows you to let go of it.

You could say FI to your miserable relationship and dump your useless partner. You could say FI to your diet and scoff on a plate of chips.

You could say FI to your demanding job and do something that makes you happy. Whatever you choose to let go of, Parkin guarantees it will make you a happier person.

‘People have been working 18 hours a day for their whole lives and it could collapse around them. Was it worth it? Perhaps they will now evaluate what is important.

Getting a perspective

‘It isn’t about giving up,’ he explains. ‘It’s about getting a perspective on what is important. Saying FI frees you from the things that bring you down and will help you realise it wasn’t that important after all. It’s a spiritual act.’

Parkin teaches his FI therapy at his holistic retreat in Italy which offers yoga, massage and lots of talking. He has also just released a book that teaches us how to stop struggling and enjoy the simple pleasures of life.

He calls it a magical modern mantra, although the act of letting go to hold on is one of the fundamental teachings of Buddhist practice. And, with the economic outlook getting gloomier, the country certainly needs some spiritual guidance right now.

‘People have been working 18 hours a day for their whole lives and it could collapse around them. Was it worth it? Perhaps they will now evaluate what is important.’

Parkin first said FI to modern life in 2002. At the time he was writing TV ads for an ad agency, but took his Italian wife Gaia and their ten-month-old twins on a six-month road trip to Italy to find a site to build a holistic retreat.

From the age of 20, Parkin had been practising yoga and chi kung (a Chinese energy art) while Gaia too, was interested in New Age therapies. Together they had a desire to do something different.

Allow energy to flow

‘As soon as I said “FI”, I immediately started feeling better, emotionally and physically,’ explains Parkin, who has suffered from eczema and allergies all his life.

‘I relaxed and that allowed my energy to flow, which made me stronger. A lot of my allergies cleared up.’

His epiphany happened when he returned to Britain for a brief visit. ‘The site was being worked on and we came back for six months to earn some money. My allergies returned and I became depressed about money.

One day I was sitting on a packed Tube and I was sobbing while Gaia held my hand. I was so miserable I didn’t care people were staring at me and I suddenly felt an amazing sense of freedom.’

Of course we’re all guilty of caring too much about what others think. Most people who visit Parkin in Italy complain of it. ‘But it’s great when you relinquish responsibility. It’s an amazing freedom,’ he adds.

For now, his first prescription for everyone is to sit still for 15 minutes. ‘It’s my favourite pastime,’ says Parkin, as he slouches in his chair and lets his arms hang. ‘I have quite a buzz when I feel the energy flow through my body. We don’t do this because there are so many distractions and we are scared we may have time to think about our unfulfilled lives. But it’s the best insurance policy you’ll ever take.’

This is similar to my Howl At The Moon/Dance/Cuss Your Cares Away Boogerwood Gathering. I’m in the process of trying to find a drum to beat. If anyone know’s where I can get one, please let me know.

Now…ALL TOGETHER…ONE, TWO, THREE……

Now, don’t we all feel better??????

PS…You may substitue “Screw it” for “Fuck It” but it’s not as effective.

Do You Really Think That I’m That Effing Stupid?

This summer has been a very busy one. I haven’t been on a vacation yet but I definitely need at least 2 weeks on a tropical island. This post is being written while my brain is in a very manic stage…..thoughts all over the place. So, don’t be surprised when I jump from one thing to the next. Regular readers have come to expect that, anyway. A good blogger would jot down stuff and write about it in a proper manner one subject at a time. But, when my head gets crowded with too much crap, I gotta let it out immediately…..kinda like that oil flowing in the Gulf. And, like BP (only without all the money, heartache, bullshit, and lies), trying to stop the flow has not been successful.  Or, puking….when ya gotta vomit bile crap up, ya just can’t wait until you got in all nice and tidy. Some of my thoughts are like throwing up…stinky and unpleasant and gotta come out immediately.   So, buckle yourself in and get ready for another TPB All Nonsense All The Time Roller Coaster Ride…..and don’t forget to throw your hands in the air at the thrilling/scary parts! 

 

TPKen’s crazy driving….TPK is driving crazy these days. He downright scares the shit out of me, sometimes. For instance….last week, we were going out to eat. Ken has developed a rather annoying (and downright dangerous) habit of pulling his big-ass Tahoe-pimpmobile halfway out into the road where he then stops and looks both ways for traffic. Holy crap…we’re already sitting in the middle of the damn road so why bother to check for oncoming traffic. I say, “JUST GO! GET OUT OF THE DAMN WAY!”. On this day, the visibility of traffic approaching us from up the hill was limited by tree limbs and overgrown shrubbery.  Ken slowly (did I mention that he now pulls out at around two and half miles an hr?) pulled out into the road. Just then, a shirtless, helmetless redneck dirt bike rider came flying around the curve. He had to swerve off the road in order to not rear end us. Now listen….I’m just not that in to fisticuffs anymore. I’ve become somewhat laid back about a lot of things these days. I don’t get nearly as pissed off as I use to get. Offing some idiot only crosses my mind  once or twice a week these days.  But, this little peckerhead turned all the way around and gave us the finger. Instinctively, I grabbed the neck of my Sam’s Choice qt. size Tropical Flavored Water and immediately went into Redneck Woman Warrior mentality. I was ready to lay that bottle upside the head of that little dirt-bike riding shithead. I looked over at TPK and was getting ready to ask him if he had my back when I saw that he was smiling and waving at that little shit. I said, “What the hell? Why are you waving at that guy?” TPK responded, “Because he was waving at us!”. “Well, if he was waving, he was only using one finger.” I told him. Sheeeesh….. 

  Barbie’s packin’ heat…. and it could get scary.

Yep, I have officially applied for a permit to carry a weapon aka gun. I don’t wanna take a chance of some crackhead whore trying to grab my purse off of my arm in a WalMart parking lot or something. Nope…I fully intend to protect my valuables and my own ass if accosted. It’s a cold world out there these days and it’s them or me. I fully intend to make sure that it’s ME. 

In order to apply for the permit, I had to take a 5 hr course handgun safety and handling. The instructor reminded me of Sgt Carter on the old Gomer Pyle show. His instructions and demonstrations were peppered with good redneck advice such as……”If you pull your gun out, ya better be ready to kill that commie bastard.” Did I mention that he had served in the military during 3 wars? He would show us how to do something and if we didn’t do it fast enough, he’d get in our faces and holler, “You’re too slow. You’re dead. Dead! Did ya hear me? DEAD! Now, work on loading/shooting and get faster! Cause, if ya don’t….you’ll be DEAD!” 

So, I’ve been practicing loading and aiming my Smith and Wesson because I don’t want to be dead. 

Now, here’s what the title is alluding to…..remember “Ima Sult”, the “family member” that I wrote about a few posts back. Let me refresh your memory. Ima is not her real name. “Ima Sult” comes from her horrible misspellings in a post on FB. In the post, she was trying to appear all bad-assed and threatening some other girl. She called the girl a “sult” which I’m pretty sure was suppose to be “slut”. And, she started her sentences with, “Ima” instead of “I am”….hence, the nickname…Ima Sult. 

Well, Ima is playing a new game now. It’s called “Ima Damn Lying Skank and will lie and steal to get what I want.” 

Here’s some samples of Ima’s latest postings…. 

“straighting my hair. then might play wit the cam. new pics comming soon. talkk? at the hotel by myself ” (Notice the mention of “hotel” as it will come into play in this post shortly)

  

“almost finished our house. im so0o0o exicted. gotr a new lazeyboy couch and it is niceeee” (notice the mention of spending money on a new couch) 

so i could get use to this wifey thing. he’s perfect. floors are done now i can get my new lazy boyyss <3  (pay attention to “floors are done” Plus she’s shacking up. She’s nobody’s wife).  

I could just sit her and copy and past her crap for hours but I don’t think that’s necessary. You’ll get my point in a minute.

 

As much as I hate to acknowledge it, our little Ima is very closely related to TPKen (who is an idiot). Ima has been in and out of his life for 19 yrs….mostly out for the last 6 or 7.  During the time that Ima was out, she kept herself quite busy. She tried to rob a 7-11 with some of her friends. She tried to mug an elderly lady with some friends on a Kroger parking lot. Oh, and she was dating the little shit who robbed my house!

 

Ima is a real upstanding young person. Hahaha…that’s funny. Ima is a real LOSER.

  

A few months back, Ima and TrailerParkMidge hooked up on FB. Then, Ima tried to friend me but I said…”No thank-you”! I was hoping to protect myself from Ima trouble but it didn’t work. TPM encouraged TPKen to call Ima. It seems that Ima had portrayed herself as a nice, young lady who just wanted to have a relationship with TPK (as I said, they are closely related….but I am not related to Ima and I know this is confusing but it’s better that I leave it at that). So, TPDumbassKen called her up. They went to lunch…..at a very nice…and expensive restaurant which TPDumbass paid for, of course. Then, Ima’s even less trust worthy mother decided to become a part of the big happy family reunion and started showing up for a weekly lunch.(..at a very nice restaurant which TPDumbass paid for), too. Weekly lunches with TPDA picking up the tab became a regular thing. But, then, Ima decided to bring her UNEMPLOYED boyfriend along for a free meal at a VERY NICE NOT-CHEAP RESTAURANT, too. As I checked my Visa bill online every week, I saw more and more lunches and the tab was rising each time.

So, I confronted TPDumbass and asked him if he realized that this was just history repeating itself. But, apparently, they’ve made him feel sorry for them or something because he continues dolling out the dollars for meals and drinks for whoever Ima and Co want to drag along that day.

  

As if that were not bad enough, Ima called last week with a sob story about how she needed TPDumbass to pay for 2 nights at a local hotel for her (and her loser boyfriend) because….

  

Her house was being exterminated and she couldn’t go back in it for 48 hours!

  

I had some questions about this:

1. Why would she have an exterminator come in if she had no where to stay.

2. Who was paying the exterminator?

3. In reference to some of her posts above….How could she afford to buy a lazyboy couch that is “niceeeee”?

 

TPKen told me what she wanted and not wanting to get in the middle of this shit again, I suggested that he compromise and offer to pay for one night. So, he did. I heard him tell the clerk at the Howard Johnson’s that he would pay for ONE NIGHT on his credit card.

 

Two days later, Ima and Dumbass met for lunch again (an expensive lunch). He asked her where she was staying and she said at the motel. (Which I already knew…check the post above). He asked her who was paying for it and she told him that the clerk gave her a free night since the room was unoccupied. At this time, she also changed her story from the “exterminator” to her floors were being refinished and she couldn’t stay there while it was done. Remember the post above about her floors? Well, it was made days before she said that she needed money to stay at a motel.

 

Now, who would belive that bunch of shit? TPDumbass did. Until, I happened to check my credit card online and saw that 4 nights had been charged to it. When TPDumbass came home that evening, I showed him the charged and informed him that I would NOT be paying it. So, he called the motel and told them that he only agreed to pay for one night. The manager told him that they would refund it and go after Ima for the money. This was on Monday. The manager got ahold of Ima and told her that she had until Friday to fork over what she owed or he would pursue it legally and she would probably get charged with credit card fraud. Then he emailed a copy of the receipt for 4 days to TPKen aka Dumbass. It plainly showed that she had signed the receipt when she left…a receipt that showed 4 nights being charged.

 

Well, today, TPDA met with his lovely “snicker snicker”  ladies today again for lunch….which included the mama ordering 3 cocktails and an expensive meal. During lunch, they both swore that the clerk had given Ima and her boyfriend 3 free nights. BULLSHIT!

I had been gone for 2 days and TPDumbass was suppose to take care of this mess while I was gone. Of course, he DID NOT. He was being too wimpy to stand up to them and tell them that we knew that they were lying.

 

Well, I’m not a bit afraid of those ho’ skanks. I got on my computer and disputed the charges. My credit card company is going to credit my account and the motel will have to get their payment from Ima and Co.

 

Boy, I was pissed. But, just writing this down has calmed me down somewhat. Because, I’m not stupid and they can’t get by with pulling this crap on me!

 

There….I feel much, much better. Let this be a lesson to all the Ima/skanks out there……I don’t take being lied to or taking advantage of very well.

 

And, liars cannot be trusted. They’ll turn on each other in a heartbeat…even their own lying-ass mothers. The following post by Ms. Skanky Ho’ will attest to that….

 

“stunnin is a habit get like me. visiting my mamma shes a fucking trip. cells good“

 

Does anybody know WTF “stunnin” is?

I wrote this yesterday. I decided to re-read it today and see if I was being too hard on Skanky Crook & Co. I was going to delete it if I thought that I was being too harsh or unfair. Well, I’m not deleting one word of it because it’s all the truth. She’s nothing but trouble. And, I am not one bit afraid of her and her crew of liars and thiefs.

 

So….Ima (in English that is “I am”) right here, biotches. Come and get me. But, remember, I’ve been practicing loading and aiming.

I Want Whatever This Guy Is Having….

I’ve never seen/heard anyone get so emotional over a rainbow….actually, anything! Whatever he is ingesting…GIVE ME SOME!!!!!

It’s Just The Way I Roll…Deal With It!

I’m not politically correct. I think that crap has been carried way to far. I spent some time this morning trying to figure out what to call a midget in this post. I realized that by going out of my way to rename the word, midget, I would be insulting the midgets in this post.

Earlier this month, I had to make a trip out-of-town to visit an ill relative. To my surprise, most of the accommodations in that area were booked up. Don’t know what was going on since the most excitement in that town is the annual town Chili Cookoff. I finally found a room available at a C—— Inn. (Covering my butt from legal action even though what I am writing is 100% true). The hotel looked pretty nice from the outside. TPSkipper and her little rugrats were with me. Of course, they wanted to hit the pool immediately. We threw out luggage on the beds and they pulled out their bathing suits. I rummaged thru my suitcase and realized that I had left my swimsuit at home. So, I figured I’d just go watch them have some fun while I sat in sweltering, humid, stinky chlorine fumes.

There were a few people in the indoor pool and I sat down in a poolside chaise lounge to watch the fun. I noticed a woman with her husband (I assume) and kids having a great time. She was very friendly and started up a conversation with TPS. TPS is an outgoing person and makes friends everywhere. I noticed something really strange, though. The woman and TPS would move to certain parts of the pool and no matter how deep the water, TPS’s body didn’t seem to be immersed as much as the other woman. I thought that maybe she had put some of those swimmer’s arm thingys on her legs or something. I was concentrating on this new-found ability of hers to swim/float without moving and patting myself on the back for giving birth to such a remarkable person! I was in such deep thought about this that I was startled badly when a voice beside me said, “Excuse me. You are sitting on my towel.” I turned toward the voice and found myself looking at the woman who was in the pool…..and she was a midget. A very nice midget lady…don’t get me wrong.  There was no way to tell that she was a little person (is that the correct term?) while in the pool because from the waist up she looked average size. This explained the difference in the level of water on TPS and this lady. But, I was really disappointed that TPS wasn’t magically floating/swimming afterall.

The frolicking at the pool went on until almost bedtime. We went back to our room to take showers, put on jammies, brush teeth, etc. TPS was first up for showering, etc. I was lying on the bed watching Fox News and remembering the good old days when I liked Glen Beck.( This was before he starting scary the crap out of me with his DOOM and GLOOM and Armageddon warnings. No wonder the poor guy cries all the time.) Suddenly, TPS was hollering and carrying on something awful. I thought that maybe she had gotten hit with icy water coming from the shower. Y’all know what I’m talking about….how the damn showers in hotels have that one control that you have to turn 180 degrees before anything close to warm water comes out. But, I knew that was not the problem when Skipper started hollering for me to come in there. I jumped up and ran to the bathroom half expecting an episode of “I Didn’t Know That I Was Pregnant” taking place right before my very eyes. My eyes darted to the toilet, mentally preparing myself for the site of a hairy little head sticking up out of the water like on that reality show. Instead, Skipper was pointing to the sink which was backed up with standing water…..with bugs swimming in it. Being that it was really late and we were really tired, we decided to not call the desk at that time. There was another sink located in a little cubby outside of the bathroom so we used that one.  TPSkipper was somewhat traumatized since she hates bugs of any kind. I told her to get in the shower and relax. In the shower, she found a used bar of soap indicating that the household staff had neglected the bathroom entirely. So, we threw a hand towel in the shower to stand on and tried to refrain from touching anything during our showers. We decided to talk to the manager in the morning.

During the night, TPSkipper felt something crawling on her and jumped up and turned on the light. It was a bug. She was convinced that it was bedbugs but I assured her that I had watched Dateline when they did a story on hotels and that bug was toooo big to be a bedbug.

Thank goodness, we were only booked for one night. The next morning, we went down for our free breakfast. All we could find on that deluxe continental breakfast bar was dried out bagels, something that sorta resembled eggs, mystery meat, and a dirty waffle iron with waffle mix sitting nearby. Thank goodness, we had spotted a Bob Evans right down the road.

So, hungry, tired, and scratching our imaginary bug bites, we decided to check out. I made a mistake and paid up right away. Then, we asked for the manager of the hotel. Should have done that before paying. An Indian man emerged from a back office and said, “How can I help you?” TPSkipper told him about the dirty shower and the bugs. He took us aside and in a whisper said, “Was it roaches?” EWWWWWW!

We assured him that it was not roaches and probably not bed bugs, either.

He said, “Sooo sorry, I am. I will call exterminators immediately. I will fix the problem. Let me give you something to make it better.”

And, he handed me a “$20 off your next stay” coupon. And, that did it…..

I said, “Listen, Ghandi…why would I ever stay here again. Even Mother Teresa, who stayed in some of the worse slums in the world, wouldn’t stay here!” But, I took the card anyway to remind me of our stay at the C—— Inn in M——-, Ohio.

After we checked out (and ate at Bob Evans), we needed to stop in the local Wal-Mart to pick up a couple of things. The Wal-Mart was huge and had wonderful, wide aisles. Our local Wal-Marts don’t have aisles that wide….people can barely turn their Rascals (longtime readers will remember Laci of Redneck Love Saga) around in them.

TPSkipper went one way and I went the other trying to hurry up and grab what we needed. I got finished and went back to where we parted and ran right into her. Skipper and I have ways of communicating that are not verbal but make use eye rolling and body language. So, when her eyes started darting toward the floor, I knew that she was signalling me about something. However, I didn’t read the signal fast enough because she said very loudly, “Look out, Mom! You’re gonna step in it!”.

“It” was a pile of poop. Yes, actual crap. Somebody had dropped a load right in the middle of that wide aisle and kept on walking/running. And, to beat it all, there were 3 different ladies pushing shopping carts very, very close to the turd pile. I saw Skipper’s mouth open and realized that she was wanting to warn them but she was too late. One lady rolled her cart wheels right thru it. YUCK! And, to beat it all, there were poopie footprints going down the aisle away from the crap. Well, I did the only thing that made sense to me at the time and told Skipper to get out her iPhone and take a picture of it. And, she did. And, I have it. And, you can look at it if you want but it is very disgusting. Why on earth my immediate reaction was to take a picture of it, I don’t know. But, here it is….WARNING…it’s YUCKY….

on second thought…I’m pretty sure that posting that picture will cross even my bad taste line. I must be developing some class since this since I decided not to post it. Several people have requested the poop pic. So, by popular demand, I present…ta dah…the turds in the aisle….

That is the honest-to-goodness, unretouched picture from TPS’s iPhone. And, no I will not edit and zoom in so don’t ask (y’all are nasty people. LOL)

Anyway…back to the poop. I have found myself obsessing over that steaming pile of shit. I can’t help wondering who dumped it. Was it a little old lady in polyester pants who just decided to shake it out of her pant leg? Or, a guy who wears that baggy show-your-crack pants who lost it while running for the bathroom? Or, maybe, a mommy didn’t take their kid serious when they said they had to go do #2? I guess I’ll never know. But, the poop footprints leading away from it suddenly disappeared as if the person was lifted up or something.

 Next, I did the only decent thing that I could think of doing. There was an assistant manger standing on one side of a display and he was talking to a pretty, young female worker on the other side of the display. I tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Excuse me. I hate to interrupt but there is a pile of poop in that aisle over there that probably should be cleaned up. Someone could slip in it and you could face a lawsuit.”

He just looked at me. So, I said, “Seriously, somebody needs to get that crap off of the floor.” This time, he reacted and said, “Thank you”. It was almost as if he was used to people reporting turds on the floor. Then, he turned to that pretty, young worker and said, “Go get some paper towels and cleaner….”. Poor thing….he was ordering her to clean it up. I felt really sorry for her. But, hey…not my poop and I ain’t cleaning it up.

I,admittedly, have a warped sense of humor. It is uncontrollable 99.5% of the time. I have tried many ways to get rid of it….meditating, cooking chicken feathers, human hair, and raccoon whiskers, and reading serious books. But, when something hits me in the twisted funny bone, I can’t help it. And, I’m not the only one who laughs at stuff that shouldn’t be laughed at. For instances, once, when my little sister farted in church, the whole choir couldn’t sing due to giggling. This is to explain why I almost bent over double laughing when something bad really happened recently.   OK…apparently, I do have bad taste limits. What on earth is happening to me?

Now, That’s Not A Nice Thing To Say….

Admittedly, this is not a nice thing to say. And, my Mama would really give me her long lecture on being ugly but, darn it, I know other people are thinking it. Now, y’all who are regular readers (up to 5 now!) know that I’d rather have a thousand paper cuts on my tongue then say something unkind about another person. BUT…..

I’m not so sure that I want to continue using L’Oreal skin products. This woman,  Liliane Bettencourt’s, is the L’Oreal fortune heiress.  Her skin looks like alligator luggage…..

At the age of 83, Liliane Bettencourt is the wealthiest woman in the world and is the 12th richest person overall. She has a net worth estimated at $20.7 billion made possible through the family business, a little company called L’Oreal. She is the daughter of L’Oreal founder Eugene Schueller and holds a controlling stake in the cosmetics giant so is likely to make even more money in the future.

If I had that much money, I’d have my skin pulled so tight that you could bounce a quarter off of it. This is what I’d look like….

just sayin’…..

 

He’s At It Again…Heaven Help Me!

Einstein aka Trailerpark Ken is at it again. I swear I can’t decide if he is super-smart or super-stupid Most likely, he’s an idiot savant…but not a harmless one like Dustin Hoffman in Rain Man. Life would be easier if TPKen would just mentally count the toothpicks that fell on the floor or worried about getting to K-Mart to buy his tidy-whites. He is an engineer. He designs machine. He does blueprints for houses and stuff, too. He is great at that kind of stuff. But, ever once in a while, I have to question his sanity. Now, he’s gonna make……drumroll please…..OMG!…… 

MICROWAVE GUNS FOR HOME PROTECTION!!!!  

Now, these are not just guns that you would have available to cook/broil/roast/bake/saute people/critters/vampires/zombies, etc.  on demand. These guns would be mounted to the SIDES OF MY HOUSE! They would work in sequence with the motion detector lights. If something or someone set off the motion detector lights, they would get microwaved!!! 

He was so excited when he started telling me about this. He had already done some research on the internet. But, the only thing that I could think about was… 

….what if there was an emergency or something and somebody that we know and loved had to come and wake us up in the night…..they would get cooked like a Christmas goose!!!! Or, what if for some reason I had to come home after dark? I don’t think I would enjoy have my liver sautéed or my lungs roasted. And, I wouldn’t dare call 911 or the police in an emergency. I’m pretty sure that I’d be convicted on a murder rap and I’d spend the rest of my life in the big-house trading honey buns for pedicures. (FYI..honey buns are the new prison currency, replacing ciggies. I know this for a fact. Don’t ask me how I know. As I stated in another post, I can’t risk tainting a jury pool). But, if justice was fair, TPKen would be sent to a prison for the criminally insane instead of me being sent to the pokey. But, just ask that Nancy Grace….court systems are screwed up.

 On the bright side, though. I’d have plenty of already cooked turkeys and deer. All I’d have to do is go outside, skin ‘em, and put ‘em on a plate.  

Oh yeah….he also is wanting to buy an armor-piercing gun that cost SEVEN THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS!!!! I guess it’s in case he goes rhino huntin’  or we should happened to get invaded by a neighboring trailerpark. Heaven’s Haven Trailer Court does have an over-abundance of hooligans.

How To Hide A Big Cable Mess….

I’ve given up on trying to get through to TPKen on saving money. He spends it as if he thinks Warren Buffet or Bill Gates are going to leave him a bundle in their wills. His latest episode involved nine thousand dollars for a house sound system. This might be OK if…

1. We had 9 grand laying around.

2. He was a good music freak. He is a music freak. Only, the music he likes is better suited to a Joni Mitchell concert in a graveyard or Muzak in an elevator at the Old Folk Singer’s Rest Home. Seriously, how many damn times can one listen to a whiney, tinny, thin-voiced woman sing about her lover gone off to war without becoming so depressed that you want to shoot yourself right in the head? And, I use to like Bob Dylan….way back when you could almost understand him. I swear that if he tunes in to that damn folk station while I’m here, I’ll take a hatchet and chop all of the twenty speakers to shred. It’s sad enough that we don’t even have health insurance much less having to sit through a shitty and sad rendition of  “Too Ra Loo Ra Loo Ral” sung by The Great Grandaddy Longlegs  :

Over in Killarney,
Many years ago,
Me mither sang a song to me
In tones so sweet and low.
Just a simple little ditty,
In her good ould Irish way,
And I’d give the world if she could sing
That song to me this day.
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,
Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,
Hush, now don’t you cry!
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,
Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral,
That’s an Irish lullaby.

“Me mither”? “snicker snicker”  WTH/WTH is a “mither”? And, when did the aliens come and replace the man that I married with a out-of-touch old fart?

3. It was MY decision. I always make the RIGHT decision.

This is not the first time that TPKen has done something financially retarded. I’ve had to clean up the financial messes more times than I can count. But, NO MORE! (well, not exactly, no more…just no more of him knowing that I’ve fixed the problem).

I decided on a new strategy. I would tighten up the ol’  belt buckle by rethinking how we spend money.  So, I spent some time looking over the household budget trying to figure out how we could spend less (actually how I could keep more money is more like it). I got a headache from it and decided to take a break. I settled down in front of the television to watch Toddlers and Tiaras…because I just loooove those people who try to live through their kids. I refer to this show as Twaddlers and Tiaras cause most of those mamas are waddlers. That’s when a Suddenlink commercial came on about bundling your services. AHA! There was something that I could save money on. So, the next morning, I broached the subject with TPK. This was a definite WTF was I thinking moment. Ya see, TPKen does NOT like change. And, he was horrified that I would consider changing my phone service from Verizon to Suddenlink in order to bundle services and save FIFTY DOLLARS a month. He just about ordered me not to do it. Did I mention that TPK is a very anal retentive person.  (The term anal retentive  is used  to describe a person with such attention to detail that the obsession becomes an annoyance to others. It’s nothing but tons of fun here at the trailerpark with me being bipolar and ADD and TPK being so damn anal/obsessive). He does not like anyone touching his stuff. Notice that I said, “just about ordered” because everyone in the family knows that I rebel to orders of any kind. However, he made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want “those stupid cable people” messing with his phone connections that he had put in when he built the house.  I considered this only a small annoying set-back in my plan. The next morning, I called Suddenlink to request phone service. I was informed that I would need the driver’s license ( or a photocopy of it) of the person who’s name was on the phone bill. To my surprise, TPKen’s name was on it. This surprised me because I have always taken care of getting utility services. However, this ONE time, TPKen actually took some responsibility and had the cable/internet put in when he had this house under roof. The wheels and gears began turning in my head and I assured them that this was not a problem.

However, it was a small hurdle as I had to figure out how to get his license. I knew that he would not voluntarily surrender them to me if he knew why I needed them. So, I had to do a little trailerpark espionaging (I think I just made that word up). I would wait until he went to sleep and slip the license out of his wallet, copy it, and put it back. No biggie! The first night, I tiptoed into the bedroom to grab his wallet off of the dresser. Crap! He had left his wallet in the pocket of his jeans. His jeans were laying on the floor near the head of the bed. I quietly walked over to the jeans and then I heard, “What are you doing?”. I couldn’t believe that this man who sleeps thru a house alarm had been woke up by almost soundless footsteps. “Uh, I thought I saw a mouse run in here”, I said. “But, now, I don’t see it. Must have been my imagination.”. I’d wait until I knew he was in deep sleep and try again. It’s almost as if TPK could smell sabotage/rebellion in the air because I tried it again two more times and once he half-opened his eyes and made a mouth noise that sounded like, “Whaaaaaaa?”  and the second time, he stirred in his sleep. Both times just about scared the crap out of me as I was only inches away from the pants…and his head.

Second night…SCORED! Easily lifted the wallet, ran to the office, copied the office and returned it to the pants pocket. I panicked for a minute or two because I couldn’t remember how the wallet was placed in the pocket to start with. If you are not anal/obsessive or do not live with someone who is, then you probably will not get the problem of placing the wallet back just right. Ya see, the wallet has to be placed back EXACTLY right….which means was the fold toward the top of the pocket or down….was the trifold folded this way or that? You might think I’m being silly here but believe me…I AM NOT!

With that hurdle crossed, I was feeling rather confident, bordering on smug. Now, all I had to do was make sure the Suddenlink guy came while TPKen was not there. The problem with that is Suddenlink (like most companies) will not give you a certain time but, instead, a time frame….8-12 or 1-5. I chose the one to 5 since TPK usually gets home around 5:30 and I figured everything would be back in its place and there would be nothing that he could detect.

However, the Suddenlink guy didn’t show up until 4:15. Still, I surmised, no sweat…he’d be in-and-out by 5. That was before that he informed me that I had a problem. TPKen, in all his anal glory, had mounted the electrical box needed to a garage wall and had labeled each wire neatly. The guy was going to have to take some wires loose. I felt the panic swelling up in my throat and thought I’d have to make a mad dash to the toilet to throw-up. As he was telling me this, I was thinking, “If TPKen sees anything amiss, he will call SL and question it. Then, it will become evident that I committed marital fraud by taking his ID without his knowledge. He could hold this over my head anytime he chose. “gasp” I would become his servant…his slave…in order to keep out of the pokey.  I watched in horror as the guy actually touched the wires. And, I felt faint when he took one loose.

My little plan was going to hell in a hand basket very fast. And, then, he asked me where my modem was and I showed him where it was hooked up in our unfinished-den.  He wanted to move it to the garage and mount it next to the electrical box. I adamantly refused so he said he would try to hook up to one of the telephone outlets in the den. I breathed a sigh of relief…thanking God that it was almost a done deal. But, then, he went to hook up to a phone jack and it didn’t work. This was hard to believe since TPKen had installed them himself! So, he tried another…no luck…it was DEAD! And, it was almost 5 o’clock!!!! I was sweating buckets. He told me that since it was after 1pm, Verizon would have already shut off my service. Sure enough, I tried the phones and they had. Now, how in the heck was I gonna ‘splain this to TPK? How to break the news to him that not only did we not have phone service but who/what had had the nerve to touch his wires in the garage?

Just as I was mentally practicing my “I was wrong” speech, the guy noticed a 3rd jack clear across the room. He said that he was gonna try that one just to make sure that it was dead, too. But, it wasn’t and he told me that he could connect there. HALLELUJAH! Thank you, God. In gratitude, I would quit talking about people and help the bums that stand on the street corners begging for work…even the ones that I have given work info to and they never called. I would no longer hand them a ham sandwich and a bottle of water. Nooo, I would give them some actual money!

At 4:58, the cable guy was finished and handed me the paper to sign. I handed him a check and hurried him out the door. WHEW! I was congratulating myself for pulling off the BIG PHONE SWITCH as I turned to go down the stairs to the den. I wanted to make sure that nothing was out of place. That’s when I saw this….

Now, to normal people, this would be no big deal. But, TPK is not normal. And, he would be home at any minute. What to do? What to do? I did the only thing that I co tuld think of….I decided to cover it up…disguise it. The first thing that came to mind was a Christmas tree in a tree-bag that I was going to donate to a church garage sale. I ran at break-neck speed and dragged it from an upstairs closet down two sets of steps and plopped it down on all  those wires. I was trying to buy time. Keep in mind that the picture does not show all the cables and wires. I just uncovered enough to take a picture for my post. No sirreeee….those cables and wires run from one end of the room clear across to the other end of the room…right thru the middle of the floor.

Criminal activity apparently makes me stupid. Now, I had a big-ass gray bag with wires running out from underneath it. Five minutes til TPK got home. I ran out to the garage where I had some more boxes of stuff that I was going to donate to that church sale. Faster than I had moved in a loooong time, I grab a box, ran to the den, back to the garage, grabbed another box and back to the den. I put the boxes next to the tree.

Still, wires and cables were sticking out. ONE MORE BOX! HURRY HURRY HURRY!

The cables and wired were almost covered up. DAMN! DAMN! DAMN! I looked around for something else. Time was running out. So, I grabbed the first thing that I saw. It was TPSkipper’s and Midge’s old baby cradle that was made out of a heavy barrel. I drug with all my might and mangaged to position it over the remaining wires.

With relief, I saw that no more cables/wires were visible if you didn’t get too close.

I’m not a member of Mensa so I knew that this was at the best temporary. Just buyin’ some time. TPKen came home and all even I waited with baited breath for him to go down there and see the mess. It wasn’t until he got ready to go to bed that he asked me what was that big pile of stuff in front of the door in the (un-finished) den. I  nonchalantly answered that I had been cleaning some stuff out to donate to the church sale. “The cradle, too?” he asked with hurt in his eyes. Afterall, he had made that cradle. “No”, I said, “I just moved it so I could sweep down there.” Lying was getting much too easy.

My plan was to somehow fix the mess the next day. However, I had a family emergency out of town and had to leave. I thought that maybe, I could call him long distance and ‘fess up. But, truthfully, I forgot. And, when I called that next night, he said that he had been putting ceiling speakers in the den. I calmly waited to hear an angry speech about doing something that he told me not to do and how I had screwed up his perfectly positioned wires/cables. But..he never mentioned a word about it. HUH? When I got home, I went to check it out and somehow he had managed to move all those boxes and crap over a bit without seeing what was under them. And, that pile of  stuff is still there because I’m at a loss on how to hide the wires/cables in a better way. (Note to fakename2….I said that I hid that big-ass mess…I didn’t say that I hid it well.)

The next evening after I got home, the phone rang and the number appeared on the television screen. That’s part of Suddenlink’s service. Weird…TPK never said a word about it. I was beginning to think that he was psyching me out to teach me a lesson. But, I wasn’t giving in. Only after a number appeared on our TV screen a few days later and TPK said, “What’s that?”, I realized that he was not playin’ me. He really had not noticed the screen number…or the wires/cables.

Now….anybody got a suggestion on how to camouflage that mess?

edited 6/23 to add….

The Girl From The Ghetto  (who has a fantastic blog and you should go read it) commented and I replied with…”GG…crazy but about an hour ago, TPK asked me when Suddenlink was coming? He caught me off-guard and I over-rode the question with, “check out that knife-thrower on television”. Sooner or later, he’s gonna see and mention it. But, I’m pretty darn good at faking him out. Sometimes, if I buy something new or something in general is different, I’ll give him my serious face and tell him that whatever it is has been in the house for YEARS. I can usually confuse/convince him. I’m just trying to come up with a story about how those cable/wires have been laying there all along and he just didn’t notice them. If that doesn’t work, I’ll go into a big crying, hysterical jag and mumble non-words until he feels sorry for me. I’ve done that many times before this.”

Well, it seems like once again, I got too cocky and smug. TPKen had just gone off to bed right before I wrote that. About an hour later, I heard him get up, go down the hall, and down the steps to the (damn unfinished) den. I yelled and asked him what he was doing. He said that he wanted to go look at the telephone wires/cables/connections. Apparently, he had been lying in bed for the last hour obsessing about it. And, he was agitated.  Listen y’all, when I say that he is “anal”, that’s an understatment. He more borders on “sometimes asshole”. He was locked and loaded and wound up tighter than Dick’s hatband! So, I had to go to my third method of dealing with him. I have 6 methods and here they are:

1. Pretend that nothing took place or was changed or purchased. Thus, convincing him that he is imagining it or not paying attention.

2. HIDE IT!

3. Divert his attention by changing the subject. Also, known as outwitting him.

4. Hysterical crying or other acts of insanity.

5. Out-argue him.

6. Leave and pretend that I’m NEVER coming back

One, two, and three had already been played. I thought that I was home safe but found out that I was not. Number 4 didn’t look very promising so I skipped to number 5. Out arguing is not who argues the loudest but who can argue using the most and biggest words and who can last the longest. If it begins to look like we are tying on this one, I pull the old “I refuse to talk about this any further until you quit acting so foolishly!” Then, I add the ignore/silence treatment.  As he continue to bombard with all the reasons I should not have switched to Suddenlink (one was we wouldn’t be in the phone book anymore????), I turned my attention to the acts on America’s Got Talent. TPKen folded and went back to bed. Thank goodness, it was past his bedtime and he didn’t have the stamina to continue with the discussion/fight.

So, next step is number 6. No problem….I’m ready for some “me” time anyway!

I will not be here for a few days. There has been a death in my family and I will be out of town. So, if you want to comment, please do. I will read and comment back as soon as I return.

Also, I’m sure some one reading this is thinking, “How can she be writing about this crap when there has been a death in her family?”

 It’s how I cope…….

R.I.P. Glenna…I’m going to miss you very much!

Howling At The Moon…..

My last post was just a post about my intentions to post when I have the time….sorta like The Seinfeld Show, a show about nothing except that was a post about nothing. Well, I still don’t really have the time but I need to do something enjoyable today. It’s been a rough month…this June is one for the record books of my future autobiography. Which, by the way, I am still undecided as to what the title will be just yet. Maybe, She Who Writes In Broken Sentences and Cannot Stay On Topic?

I wanted to cover several things in this post. If I did that, this post would turn into a novella/short story/War and Peace. However, my new friend fakename2 took a poll and swayed me as to what the subject matter would include. Who was polled? I’m sure that it was people from all over this big world because fakename2 has a great blog and you should check it out.

So, here we go….with no guarantee that I will stay on topic (par for the course in this blog).

My First Friday Night Boogerwoods Howl At The Moon/Dance Your Cares Away Event……

Life has been sucking lately. Serious suckage! Just one bad, crappy thing after another. Oral surgery, urinary tract infection, colonoscopy, illnesses in family, and big-ass ants invasion. I needed some relief! I bought some “herbal medicine” (wink, wink) from a trusted source and thought that would help. Uh uh…must have been laced with a “non-herbal” medicine because it just made me puke my brains out. Then, I decided to become a heavy drinker which didn’t work out so well either.  Upon hearing about a terminal illness in someone very close to me, I decided that life is too short….to not dance. I went around for a week or so breaking into spontaneous dance whenever I felt like doing it. No matter where I was, if I could hear music that moved me to flaying my arms and shaking my moneymaker, I’d do it And, it was fun! I even managed to get a few other people into it…well, at least they tapped their foot. I did this at the dentist office, the post office, the grocery store…..just wherever the mood hit me. I was in the bank one day when I heard a catchy show tune It was that Cabaret song by Liza Minnelli. My arms went to flailing and my hips went to shakin’. I got so in to it that I did that top-hat thing….where you shake the top hat. It turns out that my dancing fever was not catching. Actually, it turns out that I more resembled a retarded mime trying to hold up the bank as a security guard with his hand on his gun came over to me and ask me what I was doing.  When I tried to explain that I was dancing the Cabaret dance, he gave me a quizzical, yet stern look and told me to cease and decease as I was scaring the new teller. So,much for trying to spread cheer and happiness with spontaneous public dancing.

So, I devised another plan. As I’ve told y’all, I really do live in The Boogerwoods. My house is on 35 acres with no other dwellings built on it. I have no near neighbors to annoy so I play my music at ear-splitting levels. With music playing, I go outside and dance whenever I feel like dancing. I decided that this should be an event shared by TPSkipper and TPMidge and some of my trailerpark friends. With happy anticipation, I located TPKen’s extension cords (which he tends to hide from me because I have a knack for cutting them into by accident when I use them… somehow…OK, when trimming bushes I tend to mistake the orange cord for the bush…hey it could happen!) and took them, along with my iPod and Bose speakers outside. When the appointed time arrived,I was dismayed to discover that TPKen was going to be here and not gone somewhere as I expected. CRAPOLA! TPKen is not the type to spontaneous dance…or planned dance for that matter. I swear, sometimes living with TPK is like living back at home with my dad. We’re talking about a man whose idea of a great event is to have a fresh Honey Bun and watch the History channel. OK..fine…was not going to let him ruin my dance party. But, then, TPSkipper pulled up with GIJoe in the car. GIJoe is like a TPKen in training. I could see that he was not wearing his happy face, either. DAMN! Why on earth was he coming to the dance? Just then the phone rang and TPMidge’s husband, the Jeff-Gordon-look-a-like called to inform that TPM had been bitten by their cat while she was trying to bathe it. I figure the cat was just waiting for the chance to  get back at her for trying to shave it. She managed to get the top of the cat and the cat’s tail shaved before it got loose. I can’t blame that cat since it’s tail looked like a long black pipe cleaner when she was done. Good thing that one of her neighbors is a doctor and took a look at the bite. Sore but in some pain, TPMidge was still coming! What a trooper!!!!

Finally, all the girls were here and ready to shake their groove things. And, off to the side were TPKen, G.I. Joe, and another guy glaring at us like we were about to break out into a gang fight…The Bloods vs The Crypts…or in this case…The Dancers Vs The Losers…..sort of a redneck, white trash West Side Story with the Jets Vs The Sharks. I was afraid that this would put a damper on the hip-shaking, leg-kicking, and head bobbing good time that I had planned. Staring each other in the eyes, the Dancers began the attack on The Losers. Like snake charmers, we began to hypnotize and mesmerize The Losers. I could see the fear starting to appear in their eyes and the smell of defeat was in the air was so sweet.

 I’m not sure if the thought that they might be forced into the middle of the dancing or the fact that we looked like Wild Zulu Women Warriors did it but, the Losers backed down. Yeah for The Dancers! The music played loudly and The Dancers let loose of all inhibitions! That ever-entertaining TPSkipper danced so hard that the strap on her bra broke and she damn near killed a deer in the field by boobicide. The Pussy Cat Dolls had nothing on this bunch of wild women. We popped, grinded, kicked, punched, and hoochie mama danced like the best of them. (Eat that, Lady GaGa and Miley Cyrus).

 

 So, even though it got off to a slow start, the Friday Night Boogerwoods Dance Your Cares Away/Howl at The Moon was a success. We got requests from FB friends and others for notifications of future dances. And..yes, we did actually howl at the moon and it felt fandamntastic!

Goodness…this has turned into a long post! So, fakename2, I’ll take a break and come back later and write about the subjects that you requested. If you stick around here long enough, you’ll find out that this is an uncontollable pattern with me. I am ADD, afterall, and…..hey, looky, there is some turkeys in the field!

Still to come:

.Swimming with midgets

The turd in WalMart

The clerk who took half of my damn strawberry pound cake

And trying to hide from Trailerpark Ken the fact that I switched from Verizon to Suddenlink  (had to figure out a way to hide a big-ass cable).

Bugs in the motel

Maybe, It’s For The Best?

It seems that almost every time that I have a lot of things to write about, I don’t have the time to do it.

 

That might be a good thing since I can’t control my tendencies to be sarcastic and make fun of people!  A serious illness in the family plus doctors’ appts for colonoscopy, UTI, and oral surgery have eaten up all my time lately. Not to mention…damn father’s day.

But, never fear….I’ll be back soon with some stories about:

My First Friday Night Boogerwoods Howl At The Moon/Dance Your Cares Away Event

Swimming with midgets

The turd in WalMart

The clerk who took half of my damn strawberry pound cake

Something that hit my funny bone and it shouldn’t have and I should be ashamed (involves the serious family illness and prehaps I should think some more before writing about it….)

And trying to hide from Trailerpark Ken the fact that I switched from Verizon to Suddenlink  (had to figure out a way to hide a big-ass cable).

I intended to write about the above listed items today but it’s damn Father’s Day and I’ve got to at least look like I give a shit that it is His Big Day. Yeah, I’m still a loser…and possibly a very bad person….so sue me! I might get a chance to update this post tonight and fill in the blanks. But, that will depend on much more damn fun family festivities I have to endure in order to appear that I even slightly care that it’s The Man’s Day AND if there is enough time before I get my Sookie/Eric/Vamp/Werewolf fix.

Til then…Happy Damn Father’s Day!

Mine Is Like…..

 I am still a proud hippie…actually, a proud White Trash/Redneck Hippie. Shit, truth is, I was a hippie before the hippie movement even caught on. I had ragged pants and worn out shirts. I lived in a house with many people and we had to share almost everything. I did drugs for years. A lot of my clothes were tie-dyed. I wore no shoes….OK! OK! Hippie? Poor? What’s  the bigass difference?????  And, the drugs….well, truth be told, I had rheumatic fever as a child and had to take medicine. Yeah, penicillin is not quite weed or psychedelic mushrooms but it’s still a drug.

But, I was (and am) a legitimate hippy, too. By choice…not poverty…ok, some poverty did contribute to some of my hippy ways. ( BTW..I was a Biker Mama, too.……I wanted to write some more tales about that time in my life but decided not to do it after receiving a couple of comments that I wouldn’t approve. They were like, “I live in “nearby city”. Where do you live?” And,” who was the guy you were talking about that was eating dog food? I think that was me.” After giving it some thought, I figured it would be for my own good health if I didn’t write anymore. I wasn’t sure if they liked reading it or if they were trying to get info to come and kill me. Those bikers have strange senses of humor. Those tales were true).

Sorry about the ADD rambling…back to the program in progress…

Trailerpark Skipper has always romanticized about the Woodstock/peace/hippie movment. So, recently, she has been thinking about planning a trip to Sedona Arizona. I’m totally on board for that.

 One problem is that Trailerpark Skipper and I have slightly different ideas about taking that fated trip. Ya see, she is all crap like recycling, re-using, carbon footsteps, and…..unneccessary buying! That’s almost blasphemy to me. Heck, y’all know that I can’t get enough lawn fawns, grass asses (those plywood backsides that is common in these parts) , or Christmas/Easter/Valentine/Halloween/4th of July/other holiday lights to cover my whole trailer! And, how could she possibly expect me to give up my best china…Dixie plates? I’m willing to leave a lot behind when we go but …hells no…I am not leaving my Charmin toilet tissue or my Secret deoderant out of my luggage! Gotta draw the line somewhere!

She began pushing the hippie trip on Facebook a few days ago. Following are the actual comments in their entirety…..

I accidentally cut off her profile pic on the first one but this is what she posted to me…….

“Ok seriously mom, lets rent a van and fill it full of interesting women, then go somewhere fantastic like Sedona Arizona. It will be like a Vagina Monologues on Tour!

  

My profile pic is missing in my first reply but here it is….

 

“YES! YES! YES! I’ve already written soliloquy. I wrote it several years ago but had to make a few changes as time went by…I changed it from mine is like the first summer rose covered in a wet dew to “mine is like a withered rose in a burlap sack carried by an old Mexican man into the dry, sandy desert.”

 

“mine is like a hairless cat shivering in a cold morning fog”

May 17 at 5:03pm ·

Trailerpark Skipper….

“mine is like a turtle hiding until it’s safe from mean children writing on it’s shell with nail polish“

May 17 at 5:03pm ·

TrailerparkSkipper…. 

mine is like an Italian Leather Glove carried around in a reusable Kroger shopping bag

May 17 at 5:06pm ·

TrailerparkSkipper…

mine is like a July harvest Squash plant,full to bursting, shown upon by a midcycle moon

May 17 at 5:07pm ·

Trailerpark Barbie

mine is like a kidskin driving glove left upon a dashboard of a rusted out Mercedes during a heat wave

May 17 at 5:51pm ·

Trailerpark Barbie

mine is like a plump juicy, seedless grape drying in the noon day sun soon to become a dried out raisens

 May 17 at 5:52pm ·

Trailerpark Skipper….

mine is like a little old Croatian woman weeping for help from UNICEF

May 17 at 6:07pm ·

Trailerpark Skipper….

mine is like a matted Teddy Bear with a hole that needs mended sitting on a shelf at a second-hand store begging for love from passersby

May 17 at 6:08pm ·

Trailerpark Barbie….

mine is like a fragile spider web dripping with dew in the early morning sun knowing some jerk will come along and spray it with something toxic

May 17 at 6:13pm ·

 

May 17 at 6:14pm ·

Trailerpark Skipper….

Mine is like an unproductive apple tree, bearing only two pieces of fruit, both of them shriveled and dry

May 17 at 6:16pm ·

Trailerpark Barbie….

mine is like an old crippled crab fleeing from a tsunami

May 17 at 7:32pm ·

Trailerpark Barbie….

mine is like a sad slug that has been covered in salt by cruel children

May 17 at 7:53pm ·

Trailerpark Skipper….

Mine is a toad sitting on a wet lilypad oozing slime and waiting for flies to land on it

May 17 at 8:07pm ·

Trailerpark Skipper…. 

mine is a penguin that runs with it’s wings down to conserve energy… oh wait no, that’s dad

May 17 at 8:08pm ·

Trailerpark Skipper…..

 

mine is like THe Kardashians…fun to look at but totally useless

May 17 at 8:09pm ·

Trailerpark Barbie…

mine is like a 500 watt vestibule ceiling lightbulb that has burned out from shining too long and no one wants to touch because of it’s precarious location

  

May 17 at 8:22pm ·

Trailerpark Skipper….

Mine is like a worn out piece of bubble wrap that has been popped one too many times

May 17 at 8:23pm ·

Trailerpark Skipper….

Mine is like a furry baby bird about to be pushed from the nest but afraid to leave the warmth and familiar

May 17 at 8:25pm ·

Trailerpark Barbie….

mine is like a Snuggle fabric softener sheet that has been used..no longer soft or fresh smelling…and tossed behind the dryer

May 17 at 8:31pm ·

Trailerpark Skipper…

Mine is like a cheap knockoff purse, rough and wishing it was something it’s not

May 17 at 8:40pm ·

Trailerpark Skipper…

Mine is Luke a Cabbage Patch Doll, really great in the 80′s but now not so much

May 17 at 8:42pm ·

Trailerpark Skipper….

Mine is like one of our Facebook Friends…sitting around bored…and hurtin’ :-D

May 17 at 8:45pm ·

 

Trailerpark Barbie…

mine is like a tube of Dollar Store lipstick… feels dry and must be refreshed often

May 18 at 8:52am ·

 

We are hoping to continue adding to our “mine is like” list. If any of y’all have a “mine is like” idea….please put it in the comments and I will edit it back into the post.

 

My new (and very funny friend),crochetycrochetlady, added a ver good description of her vajayjay…….  Mine “is” the dashboard of a rusted out Mercedes during a heat wave in Texas during the 1980′s after being driven for 30 years by a drunken old coot with whisky breath and a 2 pack a day habit…

 

“bows to CCL”….EXCELLENT! Readers, do yourself a favor and go check out her blog!

 

Anyone else want to add one? Not only will your description be in the post, but your link will be added as well. And, who wouldn’t want to be linked to a post about “my vagina is like…”?

  

Here’s another goody. This one is from my new trashy friend, TexasTrailerParkTrash. Be sure and check out her blog. It’s very entertaining! 

  

“Mine is like the last tuna sandwich in the deli case…it still looks pretty tasty but has an illegible “sell by” date printed on the wrinkled wrapper.”……TexasTrailerParkTrash.

Yeah, I’m A Loser…So What?

Beck………..

“soy un perdedor
i’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me
(get crazy with the cheese wiz)
soy un perdedor
i’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me
(drive by body pierce)”

Yep, I am a loooooser…..such a loser that I need to make the “L” sign on my forehead. Brandished like the Scarlet Letter woman only with a “L” instead of an “A”.

I have been doing some real loser things this week. Suddenly, it hit me today, that if I am doing loser things, I must be a LOSER!

Oh, I know, I know. Y’all are thinking, “No friggin’ way. TPB is not a loser. She’s hip. She’s hot…not just hot…but HAWT. She’s The Dali Mama…almost godlike.” OK…I went too far with the last one..or two. But, dammit, even us cool kids have our uncool moments. Right? Actually, I think the post office boy in his Fruit of the Looms and cowboys boots  has jinxed me somehow. I’ve spent so much time obsessively trying to stalk him, that…well what can I say? Maybe, he hexed me…put some kind of spell on me. So, here I am, all alone without even any good snacks or beers. Of course, this is due to my loser status because I can’t get motivated to …well…even move!

So before y’all start shouting, “No, no, no….TPB is NOT a loser”, let me tell you the loser things that I have done in the last week.

 I have given much thought as to what to do to take care of my boredom in the evenings. I almost cringe when I say this….but I am tired of shopping. It’s just not given me a thrill or a challenge any longer. Plus, my house was going to end up on TLC’s Hoarders if I didn’t stop. So here are what I have been substituting for my frequent shopping sprees.

1. I have decided to take up drinking wine. Wine is acceptable in society. Everyone drinks wine. I got the beer down pat but needed some help with wine. So, I went to Kroger’s. I had to pick up some grub anyway so I thought I’d kill 2 birds with one stone. Kroger’s sure has a lot of different wines. I picked up several bottles and put them back because I know nothing about wine…like what is good/bad/etc. I needed help. I spotted a clerk and called him over. He asked me for what type of wine was I wanting. Hell, I didn’t know. Why would I be asking a clerk in the grocery store if I knew what kind of wine I wanted? That’s what I wanted to say to him but instead, I said, “Well, I would like to take up drinking so I would like a nice beginner’s wine.”

Well, this threw him off but he did try to help me. Then he spotted another clerk who supposedly knew more about wine. This wine-expert suggested a nice BOX OF WINE. Now, as I said, I don’t know wine but I do know that I have an acquaintance who buys 2 boxes of wine every first of the month when she gets her govt check. I had a pretty fair idea that box wine was not what I wanted. Luckily, according to the two clerks that were trying to help me, there turned out to be somewhat of a wine expert working in the meat department. Whaddy know…a wine expert working back there with the chicken livers, salt pork, and hamburger! One clerk went to fetch him. So, he comes over and says, “What kind of wine would you like?”  Once again, I said, “I want a beginning wine. Then I’ll work up to intermediate wine. Then on to full fledge wino. That’s what I want. So, where Step 1 wine?” He pulled a bottle off of the shelf and said that a lot of people who don’t drink much drank that wine. It was supposed to taste like grape soda with a tad of alcohol after-taste. So, I bought it.

Then, I decided to get silly the other night and take a picture of me/my dummy head looking like (I) my dummy head was passed out. I had the wine bottle in front of me (my dummy head).

I posted this on Facebook and in the post before this one. I thought people would make funny comments. And, some did….BUT….then I started getting comments like this….

“why are you drinking passover wine”

“are you kosher”

“well, at least you’re kosher”

“didn’t know you were Jewish”

and….”is that REAL wine“

Turns out that I had bought a wine that is apparently used for religious sacraments or something. And, the shit doesn’t even taste good either! However, I did get an urge to curl my hair tightly at the sides of my face and wear a yarmulke and sing “Poppa Can You Hear Me” from that awful Streisand movie, “Yentl”.

edited to add….I got this in my email after I posted this….

Wine does not make you fat. It makes you LEAN….

against tables, chairs, walls, floors, and ugly people.

2. Someone unfriended me on Facebook! Now, this was not just anyone. This was someone who married into my family over 20 years ago. They got divorced recently. Since her behavior had become somewhat looney, I would occasionally check in and see what she was writing about. Then, things started getting good and heating up. I won’t go into detail and describe her, blah, blah, blah. I will tell you that what that girl was posting on Facebook was a totally different girl than I (or anyone else) had known in the past 20 yrs.  This very obese , mousey, meek person had turned into a real party girl. And, being the loser that I am, I just had to be nosey and read it ALL! When things started getting juicy, the biotch unfriended me. Now, I figured that she didn’t want any of the family know about her naughty little thoughts about the cable man, or picking up a guy in a bar. And, she either figured out how to block me or someone showed her how. Probably the latter since she’s not that smart. OK…I don’t know about y’all but the minute that I find out that somebody doesn’t want me to see what they are posting, well, I’m hell-bent to find out what it is. So, in true loser character, I spent literally hours trying to figure out who I could designate as our mutual friend.  I finally found a guy that I think is pretty cool, anyway, and immediately went about friended him. HAHAHHA….so now I’m back to getting my fix of reading her stupid posts which looks like they were written by a horny 13 year old. Yes, that’s loser behavior, alright. But, I must admit that I take a little satisfaction as well as pleasure in being able to read her posts while she thinks that I’m blocked!

PS…This was not nearly as hurtful as when I was unfrieded by Stedman Graham…Oprah’s BF. I spent an extensive amount of time trying to get some faux-celebs to be my friends so I could impress my other mundane friends. Stedman accepted my friend request and then turned around and unfriended me two weeks later. Stedman’s FB page is full of serious stuff about his consulting firm, business, guest speaking engagements and the like.  Who would have thought that he’d turn his back on me when I asked him to speak to the local meth clinic about drugs that he’d get his panties in such a wad? Sheesh…I thought he was my friend.

3. TPKen has a daughter by his first marriage. They have not been close for a long time. The only time that she ever comes around is when she wants….NO SURPRISE….MONEY! She has a teenage daughter who we use to see when she was little but then they moved out of state. A few years ago, I got word that the girl was leaving with this skanky thug right out the road from me. After doing a few drive-by lookins’, I realized that she was living there. She never even one time walked the short distance to our house to see us. And, to make matters worse, her friggin’ thug boyfriend and  a co-hort broke into our home and stole a lot of stuff worth mucho money! Real winners, let me tell ya! Well, recently, for reasons unknown just yet (hint hint $$$$$), the daughter and grand-daughter have decided to have a relationship aka $$$ with TPKen. They contacted him and set up a lunch date. I was invited but, sheeyet, I’m like this…once bitten twice shy….once robbed….twice loaded guns….and so forth. So, I turned the invite down. In the meantime, I was seriously hoping that this would turn out to be a real relationship based on love..not $$$$. HOWEVER, I hold to the saying, “Keep your friends close. Keep your enemies closer”. And being the whiz of computer snooping, I did a little digging. All this time, I am hearing about how quiet and sweet the g-daughter has become. Here’s what I found on her MySpace…

apparently she is not all that sweet, cause this is her actual words….

“stupid bitches take MY poems off my blog and post it (brittany pritchet) fucking whore. ima fuck you up slut! come get it”

hmmm…..very intriguing…so I looked at some more…..unfortunately, the rest of the post are so x-rated that I won’t even post them here.

So, I’m a big ol’ loser…..drinking passover wine and getting my kicks by being nosey! I sure wish I could find the underpants-wearing little nasty mouth cowboy so I could get him to take this hex off of me.

“gottalay go fuckin’ cops watchn cellsgood ring me”

Oh great! She wants to “fuck somebody up” and the cops are watching here. Do I tell TPKen? HELL NO! I ain’t getting in the middle of this one.

edited to add the latest in literary classics….”relaxing and doing my hubby all day llonnng“  Uh…doing what to her “hubby”. And, don’t ya have to be married to have a “hubby”? That word, “llonng” reminds me of the word llama for some reason. Just sayin’

and…”my sainty is missing..if you see it please send it my way“  Now, did she mean “sanity”, “saintly”, “Santa” ?

So, there you have it. I’m an admitted loser….drinking passover wine and snooping on people. I gotta find that little pantie-wearing cowpoke at the post office and get this hex taken off of me!

I Made Some New Friends……

Sorry for the absence. But, I’m on vacation and as you can see…I’m making new friends!

I met this new friend at a local watering hole….Trailerpark Tumbleweeds. She was rather talkative until it came to trading the secret of how she got her lips so big and luscious looking. She kept insisted that they were natural but I didn’t believe a word of it. Finally, she confessed that she had a bit of plumping done. The confession came after several Sex On The Beach drinks chased with a few Bud Lites. Got the name of her plastic surgeon. I’ll be wearing me a set of those big juicy lips soon!

 I met this guy in a cowboy/Taliban bar. He’s a charmer alright but the ciggie smoke just about knocked me off my bar stool! He was quite a smooth talker, I must say. After a few drinks, we decided to trade phone numbers…and hats….

Sexy little cowgirl…don’tcha think. Of course, I , in turn, obliged by letting him wear my brand new burka headgear (a gift from my friend who developed a case of the crazies….)

 Boy, did this turn out to be a fun night or what???!!!!!!  But, it plum tuckered me out….

More pics from my fun time to come…..

This Is One Of The Freakiest Things I’ve Ever Seen….

I just came thru the door no more than 15 minutes ago. I’ve been out running errands and just could not wait to get back home and write about this. I have several drafts that I should be working on but this is waaaaay better than any of them.

I saw possibly the most freakish thing that I have ever seen in real life today. As I was going in the post office, three people were coming out. First, I saw the older kinda grubby looking man. Then, a boy of around 13-14 yrs old who looked like a character from Dogpatch was who my eyes landed on second. But, the third…..well, the third ….

A boy almost ran into me coming out the door. And, the way he looked absolutely stunned me for a minute. I seriously needed my camera in a big-ass way. But, unfortunately, I had left my purse with my cellphone w/camera in the car. If I could have gotten a picture, I’ll bet it would have been used all over the internet in countless blogs. Crapola…of all the times to not be carrying my cellphone!

The boy was of undetermined age. He was about a head shorter than me and I am 5’2″. It would be my guess that he could have been as young as 5 (a big, husky five) or as hold as 7 or 8. He had a stocky, strong, raised- on- the- farm (or raised my wolves)  build.

. And,he had no shirt or pants on. He was wearing a pair of dingy Fruit of the Looms and cowboy boots.

 Yes, you read that correctly.

 However, he didn’t give off the impression that he was in distress or anything like that. I know that some of y’all might be thinking…”Well, maybe, he was kidnapped or something.” I have a pretty good sense of trouble and that boy was not in trouble. As a matter of fact, he seemed to be pretty much in control of his companions.

The boy had a pacifier in his mouth! And, when the older of the boys said to him, “Watch out, Bub. You almost ran into that purdy lady.”

What happened next will be forever burned into my memory (as if his clothing were not enough already). Husky, man-panty wearing boy removed the pacifier from his mouth and said, “Fuck you!” to the older boy. His voice was kinda husky and just for a second, I thought that maybe he was a midget (yes, I know that is not PC but “little person” just doesn’t seem adequate here). He then put the pacifier back in his mouth and kept walking out the door.

I just about peed my pants. I wish with all my heart that I had my camera or at least another witness. No one was in the post office, not even the post master since it was lunch time. But, I can guarantee you that I will be carrying my camera every time I go to the post office in the future.

Just a thought….Maybe, they were some of the Lost characters and that’s what the boy wore on the island?????

Well, Hell Has Officially Frozen Over…

 

I was asked one time if I had or would ever vote for an American Idol contestant. Even though, I have rooted and cheered for some of them, I said that I would when Hell freezes over. Don’t get me wrong. I loved Chris Daughtry, and was a Cougar for Cook (David Cook), I just never wanted to spend my time or money on voting. I guess like so many other people, I figured if they win..well, they win.

Last night changed all of that. Lee Dewyze completely blew me away with his performance. I have been following the show this season and really thought that Crystal Bowersox had it in the bag. She is an amazing talent and I’m sure will have a great music career ahead of her. And, Casey James has a nice husky voice plus he is easy on the eyes. But, Lee blew them both out of the water last night with his performance of “Hallelujah”. I like that song anyway and this was by far the best rendition of it that I’ve ever heard.

 Lee was a paint salesman in Chicago. And, all season, he seemed to lack confidence or belief in himself. He could sing but he wouldn’t really push it. Something has changed in Lee because he was in a league of his own on Tuesday’s show. He actually brought tears to my eyes while singing this song. And, he made me believe once again that you must believe in yourself and your dream or no one else will.

Lee Dewyze….I believe in you and your dream. Congrats…you actually made me want to vote for someone! And, I did. I voted for you!

Have I No Shame?….

I’ve had several things that I have wanted to write about for the last week or so. Why is it that when you have something that you are looking forward to writing about that you don’t have the time? I guess it’s the Cycle of the Universe or something else as profound. Or, maybe, it’s really The Man Upstairs trying to keep me from writing about stuff that I shouldn’t? Probably the latter.

But, y’all know me…not much that I won’t tell. It’s just that I find some things so funny or outrageous or unusual, I’ve just gotta share them.

Shame on me!

Aw…what’s life if you can’t laugh at yourself (other people in your life)? OK…that’s enough of pretending like I have a conscience about writing any of this. Who am I kidding, anyway? So, here goes….

THE MARCH OF THE PENGUIN…..

Trailerpark Ken and I have had an ongoing disagreement for many years about the proper way to run. TPK is an engineer and insist that holding one’s arms stiffly at one’s side is aerodynamically superior to moving one’s arms back and forth to propel the body to a faster pace. Even though, I have pointed out to him while watching Olympic runners ( on more than one occasion) that the runners do not run this way, he insist that I am wrong. I suppose all of the Olympic runners are wrong, too. By his theory, the runners in the Olympic events would resemble a Charlie Chaplin look-a-like contest. Or, maybe, a bunch of Groucho Marx’s doing duck-walks.

If I had to compare TPKen’s running technique, it would be to a penguin running. Arms held stiffly at sides…letting the legs do all the work while wobbling side to side. While running, TPKen looks like the guy in the following video. Keep in mind that it took me forever to find a video that closely resembled how he runs. I found a couple of videos of Special Olympic runners but they were actually better than TPK…..

This winter, TPKen has become uncommonly sedentary. His biggest effort at any form of exercise is pushing his chair away from the table after supper and changing into his sleepwear for a few hours of TV watching. This is followed by a little pipe smoking and then off to bed.

Recently, I discovered that TPKen’s brother has started a walking program on his doctor’s orders. I secretly made a call to the brother and asked him to invite TPK to start walking with him. He called a couple of evenings ago and TPK agreed to start walking with him. The first evening, TPK asked me if I would go, too. Now, I have to admit that I had another motive for pushing TPK to walk. Yes, I want him to exercise but I, also, want him out of my hair in the evenings. I have started an exercise program of my own. I spend 30 minutes free-style dancing around my house. And, believe me, it’s a much harder exercise program than the slow walking that TPK likes to do. For several evenings (before blessed brother called), I agreed to walk around our property with TPK. Good grief! It was like walking with my grandpa….slow and he tended to stop and look at stuff every few feet. I could have gotten more exercise using my legs to propel my porch swing! So after I insist that he spend some quality time with his only brother, TPK met up with his brother at a local school and walked around the track for a few evenings. Today, he was rained out.

Yesterday, TPMidge and hubby had come by for a visit. TPK told her that he had started walking and she was very happy about that. TPMidge is an exercise nut and runs about 3 miles a day (among other exercises). I was somewhat taken aback when TPK stated that he was going to start running. Now, keep in mind that he has only been doing the walking for 2 days. And, now, he thinks that he is ready to start running? This is not a good idea. It’s not that I wouldn’t love to see him become a runner but this is something that he needs to work up to in order to prevent injuries or health problems (such as a heart attack).  TPK has been walking in blue jeans and work boots. So, I asked him what he was going to wear while running and he informed us that he would wear the same….jeans and work boots. This is a ridiculous idea. BUT….

I couldn’t resist….so, today, I began checking his closet for proper attire. Of course, he has none. So, I’ve decided to buy him some…..black running pants and a black and white t-shirt. Why those particular items, you wonder? Because, he runs like a penguin and I figure that if I dress him like one, I’ll have a you-tube worthy video! I’ve check my video cam battery to make sure that it’s charged. Can’t wait to come back here and post The March Of The Trailerpark Penguin…….

 YES…

Shame on me! But, y’all know that you’ll come back to see it!

Edited to add….still ready with camera but the rain is not co-operating. However, TPK did go yesterday. He said that he tried to run but it was too hard. Why? He was trying to run in jeans and steel-toed boots!

Texting Party……

    

Today was cleaning day in The Boogerwoods. As y’all may recall, I have a woman who comes every two weeks and helps me give my hillbilly mansion a thorough cleaning. I love her! She is pure redneck and we have a ball when she’s here. I usually turn on some good ol’ redneck, white trash music like Lynard Skynard and we dance around to Free Bird. About half of the time that she is here is wasted on us acting silly. But, she works for a lot of snobby, rich folks, too, and I know that they expect a “Yes, Mam, No, Mam-Butterfly McQueen-Gone-With-The-Wind” performance from her. She can sure tell some funny stories about some of them. For instance, she was late coming today due to the fact that she had to polish a drawer full of silverware for one of her clients. She said that the lady was throwing a texting dinner party. Maybe, I’m behind the times or live so far out in the woods that I get Sunday’s newspaper on Thursday, but for the life of me…I’ve never heard of a texting dinner party….much less a fancy one that requires real silver eating utensils.

I asked her what went on at a texting dinner party and she said that she didn’t really know. But, it was her best guess that the invited guests sat around texting each other while they were eating. Now, this makes absolutely no sense to me. If I like ya good enough to invite ya to eat with me, then I’m pretty sure that I’d like ya enough to talk to ya.

But, then I got another thought. Maybe, the guests are required (or might just want to do it) to text people who were not invited and rub it in their faces. I image it would go something like this….

“Susie its me  Eating @Ethels Usng real silverware Know ur jealous!”

or

“RALPH GOT IN THE JOINT REAL SILVERWARE BUY SKI MASKS ASAP”

or

“Mom whch is salad frk?”

or

“Jeez these ppl are BORING”

Now, I would text something more like…

“lmao ths ppl r real assclowns”

or

“do me favr prtend ur cops&bust ths crppy prty”

I just don’t see myself throwing a texting party anytime soon. But, if I did, I’d go all out and buy some of those fancy Dixie plates with the colored borders and some Sam’s Warehouse solid colored plastic spoons and forks.

One more thing…this has nothing to do with the texting party. But, I found it rather funny. I got an email informing me that Hot Angie wanted to be my friend on F*ckbook! Nothing’s sacred anymore!

Pretentious People Make Me Sick…..

pre·ten·tious… (pr-tnshs)

adj.

1. Claiming or demanding a position of distinction or merit, especially when unjustified.

2. Making or marked by an extravagant outward show; ostentatious.

 

We all know at least one. I’m talking about people who have unfounded visions of grandeur. The look-at-me-I’m-so-important, annoying, and self-promoting person who thinks the world revolves around them and everyone should be in tremendous awe while in their presence.

 

Here’s the story of one who went a teeney bit too far. Names have been changed to protect me from being sued since it just so happens that this person happens to have a law degree.

 

Here’s the story…..and it pisses me off……

 

Jocelyn has always been one of the best self-promoters that I’ve ever met. She manages to spin whatever happens in her everyday life into a story worthy of the front page of the New York Times. This time, she out-did herself. Jocelyn has a daughter who will be turning two years old tomorrow. TWO YEARS OLD! And, this past weekend, a local television station was tipped off (hmmm….wonder who called in that tip?) that the child is apparently very wise and compassionate beyond her young age. It seems the little girl has decided that since there are so many poor kids in the world that she wants to not get any presents for her birthday. Instead, she wants people to donate to these poor kids. Let me remind you…she’s TWO YEARS OLD!  Her Mama was right there on my television trying to get the entire viewing audience to believe that crap???!!!!! Seemed kind of strange that the compassionate little tot knew that she wanted to donate her birthday money to the needy but couldn’t even put two words together in a sentence. I guess that she and her Mama have some kind of secret communication and Mama had to be the interpreter.

 

Jeez…..when my kids were two years old, neither of them even knew what poor meant. Maybe, my kids were just selfish little brats but as I recall, they couldn’t wait to get their grubby little hands on the wrapped up gifts. Both of them would have sunk their tiny little teeth into the hand of anyone who even made a motion indicating that they might touch one of the presents. Arms with small but mighty muscles would have been swinging wildly. Cops would probably have had to be called. ER expenses would have been monumental.

 

So, am I just being too skeptical or does this sound a tad bit unbelievable to y’all, too? This pisses me off beyond description.

 

Tonight, I was leaving a local restaurant when I ran into Mama and Amazing Kid coming in the door.  Oh, did I mention that this pisses me off? My unkind  mind wanted to say to AK,

 

 ”So, tomorrow is your birthday and you are not getting any presents. How sweet! You are a special little tot to not be getting any presents. Most little girls that are your age would want to get some presents but you are not getting any presents.  When my girls were your age, they wanted presents but not you….you are not getting any presents.”

 

I am a bad woman because it would have been my intention to repeat “not getting any presents” until the child finally realized that she was not getting any presents and threw her amazing little self on the floor in a crying, kicking tantrum.

 

 But, my devious and unkind plan was foiled by the kid running off and the mom having to chase after here. In hindsight, that was a good thing.

Word Stringing….

I haven’t forgotten about my blog. I’ve just had soooo much going on that I haven’t had the time to write a decent post. I promised a new Twitter friend that I would sit down and write a serious post about the UMWA, Massey energy, and the spirit of the West Virginia people. I have forgotten (greydog). But, I just couldn’t do that post justice at this time.

Since, I don’t want my blog to just fade away, I need to put something here. But, the words in my head won’t even form a decent paragraph….or event a sentence at this time. So, here’s what I am writing….just words. Words that are in my head. Feel free to add your own…..

jerryspringerbeehivedeadlogsongbirdsfatlipsvikingappliancesebaytireswingmadtvsunshinecolonoscopyeyelinerbrettmichaelsdeadpeoplenewyorkcitynakedcowboygaragesaletoeshotshowerseashellsboogerwoodsunemployedpreciousvacationpeoplesuckwhiteteethsprite

eyebrowsgiftbaskettransgenderedpeoplebrickscoondogscommentshellinahandbasketbedsheetsseashellslapdanceshulahoopgeneralnutjobfurnituresuvssunglassesuhaulhorsescookinguglymugjugs

ambulancechasinglawyersbigassturkeyinthefieldobamajennycraigneckfurteralarmclarkpinkbeltbucklesmonkeytweeterpinkbackcoffeemug

birdfeedersecurityalarmrevengecheatingspousesshinystuffhandlesgravelbozoshowerhairyarmpitsmoneyguttercomeuppancelegbalderdashweekdayfreaksjewelrybloodcyborgs

addictsflapdoodleknuckssnailsmuscousfriendsenemiesfriendswithbenefitstextingsextingvaticancigarettesflipflopsshitmentalillnesshofoshomothersdaybirdfeederofficelowriderbridges

ballsyspinnergraveghettogirlhairmoneyamericanidolmanteetonguessunshinedivorcejustsayinrockbandweeduploadinginsertingpuppiesgunswalmartboobsneighborsstringyhairconanobrien

timesmilesanorexialambshamburgersoceanmeanpeopleapartmentlollipopsagletcaterwaulicecreamcellphonewhitetrashenemiesbeerclatterfart

booboohoarderscoccyxbubblesroachesshitcake…..

WHEW…that hurt my head so I’m quitting now. Might add some more later. Add your own in comments. Feel free to write whatever words you would want.

Bad Crafts,Hair On Fire, Raccoons, and Colonoscopy….

I’ve been so busy lately. Murphy’s Law…what can go wrong will go wrong (or words similar to that).

I had a house full of company for Easter.  Still have not recovered from all those festivities. And, that shit has hit the fan ever since.

For instance, this day has been taken up with washing machine repairs. But, I’m proud to say that I fixed it myself. I figured out what part needed replaced and ordered it from a local repairman. TPSkipper picked it up for me today and I just finished installing it.  Now, before y’all start thinking that I am some kinda of Super White Trash Woman (which I actually am), I have to admit that the broken part was on the door….not in the motor or anything. It broke last week. I knew that if I asked TPKen to do it, it would turn into a MAJOR incident. His fixing it would have required at least 3 trips to Lowes and a couple of weeks time. He tends to make things waaay more complicated than they need be.

Also, I’ve been on the phone again this morning doing price comparisons on a colonoscopy. Who’d have thunk it? I’ll bet’cha that most people don’t even know that you can do comparison shopping on med tests. I don’t have insurance and I am determined to get the rock bottom price. I have found that the costs can vary a lot….as much as $700!!!! The real trick is to ALWAYS ask for a discount. Most places do not offer you one but will give it to you if you ask. One hospital gave me a 50 percent discount when I told them that I had no insurance. I am now waiting for the last place that I called to put in their bid on looking at my poop shoot. Then, it’s time to make an appointment. One thing that I have found out is there is an additional charge for anesthesia. I’m going to ask them if I can do it without the anesthesia. That is going to cost another $800. Listen, people, for 800 bucks,  I’ll stay awake. They can stick their cameras, camcorders, or whatever up there if I can keep my 800 bucks!!! And, if that is not agreeable, then I’d better at the least get a big fat tongue kiss first from the doctor.

And, I have been trying to get my Viking refrigerator and stove fixed. TPKen insisted on buying those appliances when we built this house. And, that’s weird since he NEVER uses them. He’s not one to cook but he is good about picking up take-out. After finding out that the warranty on those appliances had expired, I was fit to be tied. Crapola…Kenmore has a better warranty than these high-priced , fancy-smancy appliances. After hitting a dead-end from the company who sold these pieces of shiny (stainless steel) , expensive crap to me, I remembered what I had done once before when I couldn’t get a company to help me. I TWITTERED!!!!!  Remembering how I had twittered about the bad service from Verizon, I logged on to Twitter and let the anger out. I twittered about Viking appliances for a couple of days. Then, to be honest, I had so much other stuff going on that I forgot to check back for twitter replies for about 6 weeks. Last week, I wanted to go  check out Justin…shitmydadsays, which is hilarious. That guy gives me a good laugh when I need one. Anyway, while on twitter, I noticed that Jonathon from Viking appliances had responded to my tweet about how shitty their appliances are. He was offering to help me out so I sent him my phone number in a message. Sure enough, Jonathon called. So, I’ll give Viking a thumbs-up on that. However, I was not at home when J called but he left a message and a number to get back with him. And, I am going to do just that. He is next on my list….right after 1.fix washer 2. find lowest price on buttoscopy.

As you can see, I’ve had a lot going on. And, I need to get back at it right now. But, I will tell you one slightly funny/sad/scary tale before I sign off. Ok…two tales. I need to tell ya while they are both fresh on my mind.

First one….TPSkipper’s husband is in the sales industry. Not gonna say which one because I am always bashing them in another blog that I do with a friend. Anyway, one day last week, he had just eaten lunch and was going to make a sales call and he noticed a picked place on his tie. At that moment, he was putting Purell on his hands. He put the Purell in the glovebox and got out a lighter. He was trying to burn the picked thread off of his tie when suddenly, the tie caught on FIRE! He had not thought about the Purell having alcohol , which is flammable, in it and that possibility of it igniting. In one motion, he thru open the car door and jerked the tie off of his neck. He had scorched his shirt and singed the hair on the back of his hand. What’s really funny about this is that he already had the nickname of Captain Crackle due to another incident with fire last summer. In that one, he was trying to be all cool while talking to one of the neighbors.  I don’t know what it is about grills and cooking out but a lot of men make asses out of themselves when let loose around grills/fire, etc. He was leaning up against the grill and somehow managed to hit the “on” button to the gas tank. Acting all cocky, he lit a match and put it to the gas….and WHOOSH! I’m still laughing over that! He singed the hell out of his hair which had mega-products in it which contained alcohol. It burnt his hair so badly that when he ran his hand thru it, you could see burnt hair falling out in flakes. hahaha…good times! Good times!

The next tale,, also, involves the same guy. There has been a raccoon loose in their neighborhood. This raccoon had gotten into a neighbor’s house and killed their cat. Now this neighbor does pest control for a living, actually has his own little company. So, the two of them decided that they would trap the raccoon, which they did. With the raccoon in the cage, they had to figure out some way to get rid of it. They were limited as to what to do since they couldn’t let the raccoon out of the cage. (Raccoons are MEAN!). So, they called the DNR and were told to drown the raccoon. They put the raccoon in a trash can with the intentions of drowning it. Unfortunately, neither thought to measure the depth of the can and the raccoon’s head was sticking up out of the water. So, the dummies decided to get out the water hose and drown it by squirting it with a high intensity spray. Of course, that did not work. Now, the raccoon is in a cage in one  of their basements. Stupid men!

I have found a couple of websites which I really enjoy and thought y’all might like too….

Craftastrophe is a site with the motto “Because Handmade Isn’t Always Pretty”. I love the toddlerpede doll (created by John Beinart)  that is at the top of the page. I would like to make one…..

There is another craft site that I’ve been enjoying a lot……MR X STITCH. Check out the funny cross-stitched work there. Like….

The other site is “Justin….Shit My Dad Says’…..which is actually on Twitter. HILARIOUS!!!!

OK and alrighty….gotta run now. Busy, busy, busy……

PS Wish me luck on the “poop shoot” test.

WV Coal Mine Explosion…..

I haven’t been here at my blog lately. I live in Raleigh County….just a few miles from where the Upper Big Branch Mine exploded. I am grateful that I did not have family working there. But, I do have friends who work at that mine. I can not tell you how relieved that I was when I found out that my best friend’s husband and son had already left the mine when the explosion happened. My friend’s husband has been a coal miner for around 30 years. He has lost friends in mining accidents. Patty, my friend, lived a life of wondering every day if her husband would return home safely. You cannot imagine how upset she was when her son decided to go to work in the coal mines. He got a job in this very mine……Upper Big Branch Mine….with his Dad.

There are still 4 men unaccounted for in the mines. And, there are bodies that have not been identified. One of TPSkipper’s best friends growing up has a cousin that is still in there. His mother goes to church with me. I can’t begin to image what she is going thru awaiting word on her son. Is he alive or dead? The waiting for her is horrific. She wants so badly to believe that he is in there just waiting to be rescued. But, in truth, the odds are greatly stacked against that.

I know many lives that this has touched. I can remember when I was a really little girl, a mine exploded in Mt Hope WV. It was the Siltex mine. My brother-in-law was working at that time. My Dad loaded the whole family up in the car and raced to the mine site to find out if he was OK.  Just a minute or so after we got there, he walked out and I still get chill bumps remembering seeing him. Unfortunately, there were several others that didn’t make it out. Many of them we knew and/or were friends with.

Coal miners are hard working people. They love their families and want to provide the best that they can for them. The stereotype of stupid, toothless coal miner is far from the truth. Most of these men are educated, caring, strong, and God-fearing men. They put their lives on the line everyday for their families.

Please spend a few minutes today in prayer for these miners and their families.

Ow Ow My Boobies Hurt: A Long Awaited Sequel to Ow Ow My Poontang Hurts by Trailerpark Skipper

Not sure why I’m divulging this, possibly it’s genetic since my ma,  Trailerpark Barbie, is notorious for telling a bit too much. Don’t believe me, check out her Poontang Post. More then likely it’s just that I want to hear a hearty Gretchen Wilson type “ hell yeah!” from other busty girls who commiserate with me.

I have been busty since I was 12 years old. I went from checkerboard flat to a size C in the matter of months. Towards the end of puberty I topped a D. Now I’m not talking porn boobs here but I have a friend who has those. She wears a size H Bra. No matter the amount of weight I’ve lost over the years(down to around 100 pounds at one point) my sweater hams have always been on the larger side of average.

Speaking of boobies, my mom’s ex-neighbor, Jolene Tutmeyer,  had breasts bigger than her head. Heck, each one was bigger that a head and half. My mom still remembers the time that she got called upon to pick Jolene up at the hospital after Joelene had surgery. Mom went to the hospital fully expecting for her to be dressed, sitting in a chair, release papers signed, and ready to go home. What she didn’t count on was Jolene still being under the influence of the anesthesia and unable to put her clothes back on. So, Mom had no choice but to retrieve Jolene’s clothing from where it was being stored and dress her. This included putting her bra on her which was apparently very trying. Jolene, being doped up, couldn’t offer any help since she was about as alert as a Saturday night booze hound in church on Sunday morning.  I remember what Mom said as soon as she stepped in the door after dropping Jolene off at her house…..”Holy moly! That woman’s boobies are as big as an Indian burial mount…each! And, I had to holster them gigantic things!”

I posted yesterday in my Rants section that I am a runner and I run about 10-12 miles a week.  Before encountering The Rabid Fidos I was circling the big Trailer in our Park (big because it not only has indoor plumbing but also has a lattice carport built onto it), blaring FreeBird on my Ipod (Thanks ma for letting me borrow your CD to copy it) when my ta tas began to feel the impact from my running. Now keep in mind I already wear 2 bras when running. Yes I’ll say it again, I wear 2 bras when running. That is when it occurred to me companies are not providing me with the product I need.

Loving a good problem and something to keep my mind off the fact that I was sweating like a fat girl in a Jenny Craig Meeting (I would have named Kristie Alley but she broke it off with Ms Jenny and started her own diet)  I decided to contemplate a better way to holster my Shirt Puppies. Now I can’t call myself rightfully White Trash With Money without first considering…..

Duct Tape….

Then I got a flashback from a similar quandary…. I remembered that with my wedding dress I got the bright idea to holster my milk makers with Duct Tape. I had quite the couture wedding dress you can ask The Vinyl Villager . It was the best that The Second Hand Store had to offer and made my White Trash Mama proud. The down side to this shiny beaded wonder was that it was backless. Any chick with Big Chest Balloons will tell you “backless” is not something you covet in apparel. It’s just too damned hard to find a strapless boulder holder to display The Girls in Glory. The effect is usually rather an “oranges in tube socks” image.  I wonder if this is what Chasity Bono used before she/he transitioned into Chaz Bono?

Let me tell you in hindsight Duct Tape was NOT a good idea. I am, just as you are, a mammal and anybody who knows anything about mammals knows that one of the characteristics of being one of these warm blooded creatures is that we are covered in hair. Now I don’t care how “blonde and fine” the hair is on your tits, if you pull it out via duct tape you are going to cry like a redneck when Dale Earnhardt Sr. died.

Then deciding to be kinder to my headlights I contemplated Ace Bandages…

The plus side of Ace Bandages is you can get ‘em at the Dollar Store or you just might be lucky enough to have a family members who is maimed or injured and you can borrow theirs.However, I realized that using one of them to flatten my mammaries put me on the level of the Creepy guy on Silence of the Lambs who tucks his weiner in between his legs and says….you know the one who gets trapped in the hole and says, “Don’t hurt Precious!” . This movie (along with Steel Magnolias) is at the top of the movie quote list around here…..”Does it want the hose?” But, the following quote is TrailerParkGIJoe’s favorite and he does a first class imitation (he would kill me if he knew that I told you that)…..

“Would you f**K  me? “I’d f**k me soooo hard”

or perhaps like the character Hilary Swank plays in Boys Don’t Cry who masqueraded as a boy and even had a girlfriend whom he/she had “sex” with.

I realize I’m rabbit holing  (one trait of dear Mom’s) here but how do you do the ugly with someone and have no idea what genitalia they have. Sounds to me like perhaps the chick was a very lazy bed partner considering she never saw and/or touched said part. (Here’s a random fact for ya….that chick was Chloe Sevigny who plays Nicky on Big Love.)

Considering that neither character would fit in here at the trailerpark and in fact would probably be the type that would merit uses of forceful scare tactics from the Good Ol’ Boys here in West By God Virginia I ditched the idea because I didn’t want to leave that to chance.

The only other option that I could think of was inspired by ma’s post on here yesterday. Perhaps I could go “Flower Power” and own my femininity by just not wearing one of the offending contraptions that my foremothers burned in the streets.

I decided however that this didn’t solve the problem at hand at all. My tits were still going to jostle and in fact were going to bounce worse without the 2 bras I was already wearing. I suppose I could go thru the “box o’ bras” that Mom bought at a clearance sale with the idea of putting them on ebay. It didn’t go quite as well as she expected, but she has built up a real tranny customer base.

Running upon the rabid dogs my mind wandered to my survival and the problem of my hurting sweater meat was temporarily forgotten. Savage dogs have a way of making you forgot about painful mammary glands.

This is where I leave this post, asking for your help…Do  you have a better idea?  If so, please tell me. I’m getting desperate here. Hurtin’ ta-tas are no laughing matter.

Whaddya Do When Your Friend Gets A Case Of Crazy?

I have a friend who is undergoing radical changes. I think that she may have contracted a case of “crazy”.

She has always been a very down to earth person. She likes to garden, quilt, read, and do other normal activities. Well, at least, she did. Until recently. Now, I’m beginning to think that she has multiple personalities that would shame even Sybil. Although, she is not (yet) walking around in a frenzy and saying “the people, the people, the people”, she has announced something that is just as jarring……she says that she has three spirits hanging around her.

Let me describe what happened today that brings me to the conclusion that she has bought a one-way ticket to Nutsville.

She left two weeks ago to go on a trip to Chicago to visit relatives. She is a brave woman and drove from here in the Boogerwoods stright thru to Chicago all by herself. I’m left wondering if maybe, she stopped at a road-side diner that served Kukoo for dinner or  something. When she left, she had already begun to ramble on about Feng Shui and how taking a sledge hammer to my living room wall would free me from sadness/the blues/constipation, etc.

Apparently, she thinks that my creativity is being blocked by the wall which is slowing the flow of my karma or some shit like that. We had an intense conversation about that with me arguing that the wall was not blocking my creativity but, was instead blocking the UPS man from being able to see my ta-tas when I run around my house shirtless.

When she left, she was just a regular type woman. Nothing strange. No standing out in the crowd. But, when she came back…..YIKES!  She is like a cross between a  flower selling airport-dwelling Hare Khrisna and the psychic, Sylvia Brown.

Here’s what happened…..today, we were sitting outside in TrailerparkSkipper’s yard and she commenced to tell me about getting together with her two sisters. She proceeded to explain that they have discoverd that all three sisters have some kind of freaky paranormal gifts. One can diagnose illnesses just by putting her outstretched hands on your aurora/personal space. One had some kind of other nutty talent that has some kind of connection to reflexology, and my friend has discovered that she has THREE SPIRITS hanging around her.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I am a skeptic. The only thing that I can remember from my poor white-trash education is this….SPIRITS = GHOSTS! And, I don’t want nothing to do with NO GHOSTS!

But, not wanting her hurt her crazy-ass feelings, I politely asked, “So, what’s their names?”

She answered that she did not know their names.

So, I asked, “How do you know they are guys? Can you see their pee-pees?”

She was started to getting a little perturbed and answered, “No! I just know it.”

“OK”, I replied, “but how do you know they are not evil spirits?”

She answered, “Because I am about love, harmony, truth, compassion, and all good things.”

I was getting a little fidgety. I mean, afterall, how many times in your life are you made aware that three male spiritual beings are floating around and the only thing between you and them is a nutty, coffee drinking  woman? So, trying to lighten up things a little, I said, “Hey, that makes you like a Super Hero or something. Can I be your side kick? I can rock a mean spandex outfit!”

She didn’t think that was funny. She quickly got up from the lawn chair and started across the yard to her house. I was just hoping like everything that her three ghosts went with her. I was, also, praying that they didn’t follow me home to scare the living daylights out of me tonight.

I’m just hoping that the next time I go see her, there won’t be something weird like naked men eating grass in her yard or anything!

AND, hope Moe, Larry, and Curley (the 3 spirits have a sense of humor! Or, at least a bad sense of direction.

Hey, maybe, there are the Ghosts of Past, Present, and Future! I’ll have to remember to mention that to her!

Trouble in the Trailerpark… another rant brought to you by Trailerpark Skipper

Dear Neighbors,

If your dogs run out barking at me like they want to bite me while I’m going for my daily jog one more time, I will not hesitate to gut them like a Gorge Catfish with the Pocket Knife I keep in my bra strap.  Minus the bad attitude, they look like they may be some good eatin’ so that is another incentive for me. Also, those big white teeth would look good hanging off my ears at the next Trailerpark Holiday Bash.

Consider this your warning because I will not take the time to bury the entrails as I would when killing a deer or wild pig, but will drag the edible part of their carcass off to my house and leave the rest for you to find. So, muffle those mutts or face the consequences!

REMEMBER…..

This……  can very easily fit into this….  with some

 and quickly turn into

 

 

this…..

DELICIOUS!!!!!

Trailerpark Skipper

Need A Gift For The Man In Your Life?….

This morning, I was surfing the internet to try to come up with ideas for TPSkipper and TPMidge’s Easter baskets. I like to get them gifts that are unique and unusual. So, I went to the Regretsy website as it has tons of one of a kind items. However, before I could browse for suitable items for my babies, this thing caught my eye.

I nearly fell out of my chair in shock and then laughter. Can you imagine the face of the man who would receive this gift on his birthday, Father’s Day, etc.? And being one to not let go of something that intrigues me, I clicked on the “see it in a room” link and this is what came up……

Here’s the description of the video from the videographer…..”Yes, this Vagina plaque for sale on Regretsy is awesome. But we couldn’t help thinking it would be even better if someone married it to a Billy Bass. So here it is, through the magic of After Effects”

I do believe that this Vagina plague combined with the Billy Bass fish wall plague is one of the most unusual (and funny) things that I have ever seen!!!!

Do You Get The Poots From FiberOne Bars?……

One of my FaceBook friends posted this link……..FiberOneBarsMakeMeFart.  I clicked on the link and was so relieved to read the stories. I now know that I am not the only one who is really stinky after eating FiberOne bars. I love the peanut butter and oatmeal ones. I, actually, eat lots of fiber and have been drinking a glass of (generic) Metamucil for about 20 years. I started drinking the fiber drink on the advice of a friend who is, also, a doctor. He told me that the fiber would keep cholesterol down among other health benefits. I am pleased to report that I have never had a cholesterol problem for the past 20 years. And, I eat a lot of red meat!  The last two times that I have had my cholesterol checked, the doctors (two different ones) told me that my total numbers were high but that my good cholesterol was so high that I had nothing to worry about.  Both physicians asked me what my secret was and I told them that I drink a glass of water with fiber every night. Try it!

Now back to the FiberBars…..

Here are two excerpts from FiberOneBarsMakeMeFart…..

((fitness trainer)) says:
06/05/2008 07:42:17 PM Fiber will make you fart because your body is not used to that much of it, try eating whole grains for a few months, the gas will stop because you will become used to the fiber in your diet. its like drinking coke for the first time, you will feel very gassy. but once u drink it for awhile, the gas will ease.

Tk Admin says:
06/07/2008 01:18:34 AM Listen dude, it is NOT the fiber.. The dietary fiber (while at 9g) is not nearly as much fiber as an average person has in a day. I could fast for 10 days straight; eat one Fiber One bar, and fart for hours. One could eat two gallons of Spaghetti, Two cups of Lentils, a gallon of Peas, a sack of Blueberries, a cart full of Bran flakes, a truck load of Oatmeal, two loaves of Rye bread, a bushel of Artichokes, and a barrel of oil full of corn and Turnip greens and not have as much gas as I do after one of these. There is something evil about them. They really defy all logic and all knowledge of nutritional information when it comes to fiber and farts. I don’t care if you are a trainer, you are coming to some knee-jerk irrational assumptions about this hell-forged snack bar.

So, if you eat FiberOne bars and are wondering why you find yourself  watching television alone or it seems that your friends and family are avoiding you, check out that site! And, if you are not a consumer of fiber bars, you will still get a good belly laugh at some of the stories!

And because I am a 12 year old boy inside, I can’t resist posting a fart video…..

On another note: Right now, I am suppose to be at a dermatologist appointment but I woke up not feeling well. But, lately, I find myself not really wanting to go anywhere. Then, I spend a large part of the day berated myself for staying home so much. I’m wondering……if I am happy staying home all alone in my Boogerwoods house, is there something wrong with me. Whaddya think? Just wondering……….

Here Comes WT Peter Cottontail….White Trash Easter Crafts!

It’s almost Easter time. And, what does that mean?

It’s time for some white trash Easter fun!!!!!!! So, here we gooooo…..some Easter crafts, Easter basket ideas, and the best Easter outfits straight from the Trailerpark to you.

PART ONE: NIFTY EASTER CRAFTS!!!!!!

Let’s start out with a simple Easter craft. This cute little bunny always wows young and old alike around The Trailerpark and the best part is it uses an item that most of us already have in our bathroom closets….TAMPONS!

Tampon Easter Bunny

What’s fluffy and white and cottony soft? Tampons! And bunnies! That’s why this tampon Easter Bunny was such a natural. If he sticks around for your period, he’ll bring you some unfertilized eggs.

This fun and simple bunny craft is courtesy of Tampon Crafts. You’ll find the easy to follow directions there! There’s so much FUN STUFF at the Tampon Craft site.  Who knew that you could do soooo much with a box of Tampons (or, in my case, a box of Dollar Store generic tampons).

The next craft idea is an EASTER BUNNY MASK….

*Note from TPB….OK, I admit it. I stole this idea from another site. And, frankly, this is a little scary. That’s my own comments in red.

Make this fun rabbit mask to wear on Easter morning.
The white bath sponge cheeks are plump and soft.

The plastic straw whiskers are visible from even at a distance.
That makes the rabbit mask even more sensitive than a real one. (WTH? Are they comparing this to a real bunny’s whiskers? If so, how do they know how sensitive real bunny whiskers are?)

So, here we go: (Hang on…this is a little weird)
All you need:
Pipe cleaners
colored cards
child safe scissors
pencil
glue and brush
black felt-tip pen
two bath sponges
six plastic straws
small pieces of black & white paper
a ruler

Draw and cut out a rabbit’s face and ears from thin colored cards. Use your scale to measure 30cm(12 inches) wide and 60cm(24 inches) long cut out. (The only scale that I have is a bathroom scale and the thin colored cards weighed zero on them)

To make the rabbit’s cheeks, draw a large circle on both bath sponges and cut them out. Make the circles as large as possible. Then trim them to fit. (To fit what?)


Draw a mouth with the felt-tip pen. Cut out a nose from black paper. Then cut a pair of teeth from white paper. Glue them on to the mask. (I cut the first set of teeth too large and scared the hell out of myself).

Glue on the sponge cheeks using PVA glue. The sponge will absorb the glue. So apply lots. Allow plenty of time for the glue to get dried. (LOTS OF GLUE? That’s what it said so I did apply lots of glue. Spent the next 30 minutes cleaning that crap off of everything. “Lots of glue” is open to individual interpretation apparently).


Ask an adult to cut the pointy ends off the plastic straw. Dab a little PVA glue on to one end of each of those straws. Now insert three straws into each sponge discs. The whiskers are now ready. Well, if you think the whiskers are getting unnecessary long, you can trim those jut-out ends a little. (I guess 12 inches WAS a little long. )

Now make a small hole on either side of the mask. Thread a pipe-cleaner through each hole and twist the end to hold it in place. To wear the mask, hook the pipe-cleaners around your ears. (BE CAREFUL! Those wires in the pipe cleaners hurt like the dickens if you accidentally stick one in your eye!)

Hey you’re almost done. But if you want to make them a bit more realistic, use your imagination to paint the mask with black, white and red paints. (Tip from TPB….use your imagination only if you are not drunk, high, or have nightmares of killer rabbits).

Tips:
Mix black and white paint on a palette to make a pale gray color. Use a medium paintbrush to paint the front of the mask. But do not paint the ears.
When face is done, mix more of black and paint the ears with it.

Caution: If you decide to color do it before applying the glue. (I think it might have been a good idea to put this caution a little further up in the directions.  I spent an unnecessary 40 minutes cleaning home-made colored glue off my face!)

 

And…here is MY finished product…..

 

Be sure and come back for Part II…White Trash Easter. I’m hoping that Trailerpark Skipper will come up with some lovely Easter basket ideas!

 

And, for those of you who want some serious money saving tips, go visit LittleFrugalista’s blog. Her header picture alone is worth making the visit.

 

 

Trailerpark Skipper Rants:Wrinkly Old Bitches

A post by TPS

I am good girl. Anyone that knows me will tell you that I am the uber good girl. I have no doubt in my mind that if you were to know me in real life you would have no trouble leaving your young child or elderly parent with me. Afterall not only am I a Teacher in a Christian Grade School but also our church piano player.

Being good is not always easy. Sometimes the angel on my left shoulder fights with the devil on my right. Almost always the angel wins out. However the devil on my right shoulder rails to have his say and that is what this section of this blog is all about. It’s the things that if I weren’t a good girl I would have said. It is exactly what is going on in my head that gets filtered out. Lucky you, you get to read it unflitered.

>:-)

>:-)

>:-)

Twice this week I’ve come across Wrinkly Old Bitches who have stared at my son like he is the plague. If you want to be bitchy that’s your business, when it affects my loved ones fear the wrath of Trailerpark Skipper.

Dear Wrinkly Old Bitches at Cracker Barrel and The Library,

My son is a normal 3 year old boy, not the plague for you to stare at down your nose like he is the bain to your existence. Yes he makes a mess in his wake, if your employer did not intend for you to clean these messes they would A)take the toy section out of your waiting area where we are forced to wait for 45 minutes. Having a 3 year old boy wait beside toys and asking him not to touch is like putting a Hungry Fat Chick in a Hostess Factory and asking her to keep her piggy finger to herself. B)take the Children’s Section out of the Library, so as not to encourage the Peanut Butter and Jelly Eating Monsters to visit. You would think you would be glad that he can read and wears shoes considering we are from WV.

I am so very sorry that your poor planning has your Wrinkly old ass working through your “Twilight” Years. However it is not acceptable to take it out on my child. Keep that shit up and I’ll encourage him to remove everything from the shelves you are responsible for, have him place the items in the floor and then sit back to laugh while I watch you return it to it’s rightful place.

Trailerpark Skipper

Trailerpark Skipper Needs a Sassy Gay Friend!!!!

A post by Trailerpark Skipper or TPS

In Need Of A Laugh?…..

I am operating in an almost paralyzed state lately. Dunno exactly what the problem is but I just can’t seem to get moving on anything…..writing, reading blogs, cleaning, shopping….NADA…NUTTIN’….ZIP! I’m sure that you get the idea.

I was in need of a good laugh at something stupid…something that I didn’t have to think about first before I laughed. It had to require no reading or much thought. And, I found it…….

 

Hope this made you laugh, too!

I’ll be back to write something as soon as the head-fog clears.

Tell Me,How Wrong Is This?….

I love my church. It’s not very big but it’s just full of caring, wonderful people. Since it is small, everyone pretty much knows everyone else’s family, friends, and neighbors. It’s community oriented and tries to help anyone in the area that needs help.

But, I’ve got a problem.

We have a prayer chain and I’ve been on it for several years. No biggie. Someone calls me and tells me who and what needs prayer. This was a piece of cake for a long time. I would immediately get off of the phone and pray. However, lately, it’s become a little complicated for me. First, the person who calls me has changed. The lady that calls me now is a fantastic woman. I wish that I was more like her. She is always doing some kind of ministry, either at nursing homes or with children. BUT, if I’m not at home when she calls, she leaves a message and I cannot understand what she is saying.  And, I’ve gotten lazy about praying immediately upon hanging up the phone. I use to keep a notepad by the phone and write the prayer requests down. Some times, there would be several and I didn’t wanna leave anyone out. Now, since I can’t understand the lady (it’s really because she’s talking too fast), I’m not sure for whom I’m suppose to be praying. The messages sound kinda like this….

“Oh, hello…this Pansy (named changed) with a prayer chain. Mr. “mumblemumble” needs prayer for “mumblemumble”  and”can’tquitemakeitout’s” niece is having surgery for “mumblemumble”. Get the idea? I can’t make out the names or details.

To make matters worse, I am becoming very guilty of prayer procrastination. I fully intend to do it but lately, it slips my mind.

So, I’ve been trying to do One Big Combined Prayer and it goes something like this…

Dear Lord,

I’m sorry that I didn’t do this when I was suppose to do it. But, I guess it’s better late than never, right, God? So, please take care of Mr. “mumblemumble”. And, please be with  “mumblemumble”‘s neice while she is going thur “mumblemumble”. (I don’t actually say “mumblemumble”, I really just mumble cause I figure that God knows who they are). And, Lord, in case I didn’t get this prayer in on time and they died or something, please bring comfort to the family of the deceased. And, if they are still alive and have recovered, Lord, thank you for your blessings on them.  I will try to do better with this prayer chain in the future…..Amen!”

I’m just wondering if this is a bad thing to do? Should I just forget about praying or continue to do an umbrella prayer for I don’t know who? I’m just not sure.

Don’t Stop Believing…..

One of my favorite songs is by Journey….”don’t stop believing, hold onto that feeling…..”

My family was white trash poor. I’ve heard people talk about how poor they were growing up. Saying that they couldn’t afford to go to the movies but once a month or only got a couple of presents for Christmas. Hell, that’s not poor. Poor is when you have never seen a movie until you are 11 years old and your older sister’s fiance’  tries to impress her by taking her along with her brothers and sisters to an actual movie theater. Yeah, it was a drive-in and it was $5.00 a carload night but it was a real treat. He, also, brought along a carton of Double Cola. Do any of you remember Double Cola? It was not the best tasting soda as I found out when I got older and could actually buy soft drinks with my own money. But, you got more for your buck because the bottles were bigger.

We sure did like him and we were all happy when they got married. Unfortunately, it ended in divorce but I love that guy even now. He was and is still a “good ol’ boy”.

Poor is receiving one toy for Christmas and it was from a church mission distribution center. People donated clothing, toys, household items, etc. My Mom and Dad volunteered there one year in order to get us some Christmas presents. Volunteering wasn’t necessary but they wanted to feel like they had earned the stuff. Too bad that most people with their hands out these days just want to get something for nothing and have no work ethic.

That Christmas, I got a doll and I thought she was the most beautiful thing ever. She was a porcelain doll, not one that you actually played with. She had on a flowery dress and she had a hair net. The hair net covered brown hair that had, to most people, obviously seen better days and someone had tried to comb it back into place before donating it. But, to me it was lovely,especially since I had never had a doll with any hair before this one.  I remember that one detail plainly because my older brother made fun of it and made me cry. He said that it looked like she had poop in her hair. He hurt my feelings something terrible and I ran and hid in the well house around back of our house. Me and my doll. We laid behind the pump until my Mom found me and gathered me in her arms. She kissed me and talked to me softly. She told me that my doll was special and that I should ignore my brother because boys don’t understand anything about dolls. Then, my brother came in and hugged me and told me that he was sorry. Isn’t it funny how some memories are so clear and others are vague, no matter how hard you strive to remember them?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About 7 years after that, I was getting ready to start high school. Junior high was behind me and I had gotten thru it with very good grades and the reputation of being the “funny one” of my jr high clique. I had a 4.0 grade level. And, I was active on the school newspaper. This was due to the fact that when I tried out for cheerleader, the teacher/coach had taken one look at me, a fat girl with a patched-up, faded wardrobe and told me that I should join the newspaper team since I had writing talent. I wasn’t stupid and knew that what she wanted to say was, “Honey, you are not cheerleader material. You’re better suited behind the scenes. In other words, you’ve got a radio face so don’t ever try out for television.” And, although, that hurt deeply at the time, I’m grateful to her now. I enjoy writing and being behind the scene in a lot of cases. But, not all of the time….NO!….I have a need to be in on the action and have a knack for getting myself into situations where I am the center of attention.  But, at least, I’m not doing those damn junior high cheers….Rah Rah Ree Hit Him In The Knee Rah Rah Ras Hit Him In The Ass!

By this time, my Dad was old enough to draw Social Security and he had finally been awarded a Veteran’s check for being shot 5 times in the war. Just a note: My Dad was in his late fifties when I was born. I never knew what it was like to have a physically fit Dad, one that was young enough to play sports with us. Although, he did try. I can remember rolling a big rubber ball back and forth with him. That’s about the limit of physical activity that I can recall doing with my Dad. Oh, and he did take me for walks sometimes. We walked very slowly as he was using a walking cane by then.

OK, I digressed again. Back to entering high school. With our windfall (hahahaha) of money, my Mom was able to buy each of us one new outfit for school…..PLUS SHOES! I was so excited to wear a brand new outfit for my first day at high school. But, then what? I knew I’d have to continue to wear my big sister’s hand-me-downs and trade clothes with my little sister in order to have a different outfit for other days. My big sister, who was by this time a married woman, was very generous and kind to us. Her husband was a coal miner and made fairly good money by local standards. The coal company that employed him actually owned one of those “company stores” that you may have heard about or seen in a movie like “Matewan”. The store let the miners have accounts where they could charge stuff between paydays and pay it off when they got their paycheck. Unfortunately, my sister had no financial teachings and apparently gave no thought to the idea that you should never charge more than you could pay back. She frequently took us to the store with her where she treated us to soda, candy, and other items that we were denied growing up. I think this was where her marriage started falling apart. Her husband would come home in a screaming, angry rampage after going to the store and finding out how much he owed due to her purchases.  She, also, bought clothes and I was thankful when she handed them down to me. However, trading with my little sister was almost comical. I was short and fat and she was taller and very slender. So, although, she could fit in my clothes, she would look silly because they hung off of her. On the other hand, when I tried to wear hers, it was like trying to fit big Polish sausage into a hotdog wiener casing. So, it ended up that she would wear my clothes but I could not wear hers. And, she was a slob! I would be so upset when I would go to put on one of my few shirts only to find that she had worn it the day before and gotten ketchup or something on it.  I think of this time in my life as The Wardrobe Nightmare Period.

My Mother was always trying to come up with a way to fix the clothing problem. She even tried to learn how to sew but she never could master that talent. On the other hand, I learned to sew in Home Economics in the ninth grade and loved it.  I made a few things in that class that I actually wore for several years. I remember making this long, sleeveless lined vest that I thought was the coolest thing ever. It was blue denim colored on the outside and bright stripes on the inside. Looking back now, I shudder thinking about how hideous that thing really was. At the time, long vest, fringed jeans, and faded-look stuff was in. So, I was halfway stylish since most of my clothes were actually faded and my pants were raveling at the hem due to being washed so much.

One day my Mom had gone to visit her sister. Her sister was pretty well off because her husband owned several businesses that were doing really well. My aunt had one daughter and she was lavished constantly with clothes, shoes, and whatever else she wanted. She was in the same grade as I was but she had gone to a private Catholic school thru grade school and junior high. So, high school was the first time that we were in the same school. We were not friends. We did not run in the same circles, mine being the hippie type crowd and hers being the “preps”. We would sorta nod at each other in the hallway but she ignored me all together when her friends were around. I don’t think any of them even knew we were cousins. I didn’t really care since I didn’t go around announcing it either. We were so totally different. While she might be out trying to find a shoe store that would dye her new shoes to match her gown for a school formal dance, I would be out listening to Led Zepplin and trying cigarettes, beer, or even pot for the first time. I’m pretty sure that I had a lot more fun than she did.

Back to the original story…yes, I know, I am “rabbit holing” (as one of my readers called it) again….

As I said, one day my Mom went to visit her sister. She didn’t get to go see her very much. My Mom couldn’t drive and had to rely on my Dad to take her every where (up until I got my license at 16 whereupon I became the official family chauffeur). When I got home from school, she was excited about a big black trash bag of something that she wanted to show me. It turned out to be my cousin’s clothing that she had tired of or could no longer wear. I need to mention that by this time, I had lost a lot of weight. I am not sure if it was due to natural body changes or the somewhat wild life that I was leading. Whatever it was, I was a normal size. My cousin was, also, a normal size but then she always had been. So, my aunt had sent me a big bunch of clothes. I was not happy at first. Afterall, this was my cousin’s clothes and we were going to the same school. I told my Mom that I didn’t want to be seen in her hand-me-downs because kids would make fun of me. She told me that my aunt had promised her that she would make sure that my cousin didn’t say anything at school about me wearing her old clothes. And, the clothes were nice, coming from some of the best and most expensive stores around. They were not my style but they were the nicest clothing that I had ever had. So, reinforced by the promise that my cousin wouldn’t say anything, I decided to wear them to school. There were enough to wear a new outfit for around ten straight days! The first couple of days, I felt like a million dollars! None of the clothes had anything at all wrong with them. All my friends thought that I had bought new clothes and I didn’t tell them any difference. For once, I didn’t feel like that poor, white trash girl. I felt like I  was fitting in with all the other girls.

Should have known better. My gut told me so and my gut is almost always right. By the end of the first week of my new wardrobe, I noticed some girls whispering around me. The girls were friends of my cousins. Uh oh. I felt sick to my stomach. After school that day, I told my Mom that I thought that my cousin had told her friends that I was wearing her used clothes. My Mom  called my aunt, who in turn ask her daughter about it. She denied telling anyone at school about me wearing her give-aways. Notice that “at school” is written in italics. It turns out that the little bitch used a technicality to humiliate me. She didn’t tell any of her friends at school. She told them out of school….when they were at her home or one of their snotty I’m-Better-Than-You social gatherings.

I wanted to beat the shit out of her. And, I could have. I was a tough, white-trash girl and she was a spoiled, over-protected rich bitch. I knew that I could smack her down to the floor and then kick her in her perfectly coiffed hair until she cried. But, I didn’t. Instead, I just quit wearing the clothes. And, I promised myself that one day would come when I could buy all the clothes, shoes, and whatever that I needed. And, they would ALL BE NEW and never, ever worn by someone else first. And, I believed this with all my heart. This embarrassing experience just gave me more determination and resolve to move ahead and not look back. And, I did. I never thought about this again for years until I started having memories pop up out of nowhere recently. I’m not gonna try to stick those memories back in the shelf corners in my brain anymore. I’m going to write about them as I have in a few posts previous to this one.  I’m not ashamed or embarrassed any longer. I write these memories with 2 intentions. One is to record my history for my daughters….who have never and will never (as long as I am alive) have to be embarrassed or humiliated by circumstances beyond their control. The second reason is….just in case you happen to read this….I want you to know that being poor or different should not be embarrassing.

……and don’t stop believing. I didn’t. Although, I will never be named on Forbes richest women list, now I can afford shoes, clothes, etc. all the time when I need it. And, most of the time when I just want it.

Even though some memories of being poor are painful, I can honestly say that I am glad that I grew up being poor white trash. I learned a lot from my childhood. I’ve learned that you can do without when you have to and you don’t die from it or anything. I’ve learned to appreciate everything that I have. I’ve learned that when I give something to someone, I don’t have to tell anybody else. Just knowing that I gave and helped is enough for me. I have no desire to ever humiliate or embarrass another person ever.

Yes, my cousin was a mean, spiteful little bitch. But, I thank her because that’s when I first started believing that things could get better. And, I will never stop believing…..

Some Spam Is Downright Funny….

I’m not sure how or why I started getting at least one half dozen ads for anything and everything related to a penis every day. I must have signed up for something that generated all of this spam. And, believe me, whatever  I signed up for was totally unrelated to this crap because I do not nor never have had a penis. Most of the time, I just delete the email but every once in a while, one will catch my eye due to the seriously bad spelling. I got one today that caught my eye just as I hit the delete button. I was so curious as to what it said that I went into my deleted stuff and read it. I know that you’ve all gotten that email that has all of the words with letters left out to test you to see if you can read it. This email is kinda like that. Is it disturbing or strange that I can actually read all of it?

Let’s see if you can……

IfYouHadA H arde rPe ni sYouCoul dRe allyPlea sur eY our G i rl‏

Mnior injruies froum disrupetrs–graezs and falsh-cutes–wuold beign to heeil in egiht to a hudnred huors, utnended. Thais weis epdiermal tsisue oenly. Tehre weis no recnet rpeort on utnended inetrnal huamn injruies, execpt, of cuorse, somwehere in the flies of soume mercilsesly curiuos Kilngon laboraotry. If he colud stabliize Aaorn’s condtiion loeng enoguh to fiend nighthsade and ditsill a crdue herat stmiulant of soume kiend–if he colud mainatin blo-od-transfsuions to keepi his herat gonig–if he colud oenly get enoguh sle-ep to keepi froum maikng msitakes

I don’t know what “mnior injruies froum disrupetrs” has to do with one having a  H arde rPe ni s unless the minor injuries are from getting kick in the nuts for being an atrocious speller. I think that the originator of the email must  not  get enoguh sle-ep to keepi froum maikng msitakes!

Yeah, sometimes spam is almost worth reading.

BTW…This is especially for, Jan!

The Weather Outside is a F@%&*@* Mess….

“Oh, the weather outside is frightful. But, the snow is….well..not delightful. No more snow! No more snow! No more snow!

I’m taking a break from my “dark” posts. Losing too much sleep thinking of things that happened in the past. So, here ya go…..

How much snow have we had? At least 2 ft….

Don’t know who made the snow sculpture or took the picture but it’s great. If anyone knows who made this, let me know. I’d love to give them credit for their humor and originality.

My Insomnia Is So Bad….

I had an appointment with a periodontist yesterday. It was for the insertion of a titanium post into my jawbone.

Due to taking the wonder meds for osteoporosis, Actenol , Fosamax, Boniva, and others (yes I am being sarcastic), I have to undergo extensive dental work.  The first phase is to rebuild a whole tooth where one that seemed perfectly normal broke off when I bit into a soft, blueberry muffin. I wonder if Sally Field has loss any teeth, yet.

And, I’ve been suffering with insomnia for the last couple of nights (maybe, due to the horrible dreams that I’ve written about in my last couple of posts). I went into the periodontist’s office sooooo tired!

How tired was I? Well, I feel asleep and started to snore during the drilling into my jaw bone and the insertion of the post into the drilled-out hole. Also, slept thru being stitched up and the cleaning up of blood off of my face.  During a break when the periodontist left the room, I asked the assistant if I had really been snoring. Just wanted to see if it had happened or had I imagined it. Sure enough, I was snoring.

After it was all over, the periodontist commented that I was the most relaxed patient that he had ever seen. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I am not a relaxed patient. I am usually a very tense patient when anyone is working in my mouth. I was just too damn tired to be nervous.

Seriously, I cannot believe that I fell asleep during oral surgery. Maybe, I need to be sleep deprived on all my visits.

And, for the first time in a while, I am awarding my prestigious shitcake award…to the drug companies that have a habit of not being truthful about drug side effects until forced to come clean….

FRESH FROM MY OVEN TO YOU, PROCTER AND GAMBLE, MERCK, AND GLAXO SMITH-CLINE,  AND ROCHE LABORATORIES, THE MAKERS OF BONIVA, ACTENOL, AND FOSAMAX. AND, YOU DON’T NEED TEETH TO EAT IT.

Go ahead, grab yourself and big ol’ slice. You’ve earned it. Just be glad that this time, it wasn’t a lawsuit that I served up….(yet).

PS…I’ll bet Sally Field, The Flying Nun wouldn’t be on a commercial pushing that crap if her teeth started falling out. But, then, some people would sell their own mother for money, wouldn’t they?

Big Butts Get Stuck…

I started to title this….”Big Butt…Be Gone (before someone drops a house on you and you get stuck under it).

I’ve had a hard time keeping weight off my entire life! I’ve lost and gained at least 3 people since my teenage years. Now, I’m proud to report that I have lost 30 POUNDS!!!! Yay, me! I can remember at least three incidences that motivated me to lose weight. Well, actually 4…but the first one doesn’t really count because it made me angry more than motivated. The first time was when I was in the 7th grade. My best friend had a younger brother who was a pretty nice boy. No,I didn’t “like” him so it wasn’t a crush thing. He actually reminded me of that cartoon donkey on Hee-Haw….long face and big teeth.

I never told him that but one day, he had the balls to tell me that I had a pretty face and it was too bad that I was fat! I think that it didn’t motivate me because it was like the Hee-Haw jackass was pictured in my head and talking to me.

The second time, I had a huge crush on a boy in high school. I had stalked this guy all over the high school….in ninja mode, of course. It was one of those “w”ong side of the tracks” stories….with me being the wrong side . I was the poor white trash girl who hung with the bad crowd and he was the semi-wealthy and classy popular jock. And, he asked me out to the movies. I was walking on cloud nine!!!! Kinda sounds like a Molly Ringwald movie, huh? It would have been titled something like “Pudgy in Pink” instead of “Pretty in Pink”. At the time, I worked at a Tastee Freeze (which might have explained some of the weight gain) and he stopped by almost everyday. One day, my co-workers and I were bored and goofing around doing silly stuff. Like making banana splits with no bananas just to see if anybody would notice. Nobody did! Then, I got this “bright” idea that I was going to squeeze thru the little square take-out window. I was about halfway thru….head and shoulders sticking out of the window. But, then I couldn’t get my hips through!!! I was STUCK halfway out/in the window when, but, of course, my crush pulled up! I’m pretty good at quick thinking…but it’s not always good ideas. I just nonchalantly acted as if it was perfectly normal that I had my big butt stuck in a small square window and chatted with him as if everything was perfectly cool. Finally, he asked me why was I hanging out the window and I said it was because of a bet that I could stay that way and serve customers their ice cream for an hour. Thank goodness, he finally left and I could begin the procedure of inching my way back in the building! I knew that I had to lose weight! And I did….25 lbs!

Over the years, it came back. The second time that I knew that I had to do a big-butt-go-away was when I got wedged under my bed. I have a Paul Bunyon style bed that is really high up but very low to the floor. I spotted a missing shoe under it and flattened myself out enough to schooch under the bed. Feeling victorious with missing shoe in hand, I started inching back out….only to discover that, once again, I was STUCK! No one was home and panic began to set in. I began to pray!!!!! No one was due home for another 3-4 hours. I couldn’t imagine staying under that bed with all those dust bunnies irritating my nose and eyes. I knew that I had to come up with some rational way to get out. So, I exhaled all of my breath, flattened myself as much as possible to the floor and very slowly inch by inch backed out….covered in dust..and some aching shoulders and hips.  Yep…time to lose weight again! And, once again, I did. Lost about 20-30 lbs. I vowed to never get that overweight again…but of course, I did.

This, the third (and hopefully final) time, I realized that my current hobby of sitting on the couch watching TV and eating Little Debbie Cakes was making me tired and sick. I had, also, discovered that my “emergency fat” wardrobe was getting quite snug. Hanging out in loose pjs all day worked for that….unless I had to go out! I knew that I was letting my life get sucked away by my big butt being stuck in the couch. Plus, I needed to be able to keep up with my extremely active grandson, Ian (who was about 3 or so at the time) and both of my active daughters, Meg and Annie. They eat very healthy and get lots of exercise. I love hanging with my daughters. However, sometimes, being with them is hanging out with exercise queen, Jillian Michaels…

Seriously, my daughters will not go on a vacation and stay anywhere that doesn’t have a work-out room.  But, I knew that if I didn’t get into shape, I would be sitting in the corner while they had fun and begged me to join them. I want to live my life as God intended…to the fullest! I tried different plans for exercising but would soon give up. I figured that if I was going to get the physical activity that I desperately needed,it would have to be something that I enjoyed doing and could do even in bad weather. So, I began to DANCE! I take 30 minutes everyday, turn on some good music and dance all over my house. Plus, I’ll stop doing whatever I’m doing at the time if a good dance song comes on the radio. I DANCE AND DANCE AND DANCE! Plus, thru Trailerpark Skipper, I’ve learned so much about nutrition and healthy eating. So, no big well-known diet plans…no magic pill…no clubs! Just determination. This time, I’m keeping it off. I have to since I live in the Boogerwoods! Nobody would find me here if I got stuck!

Now….I’m gonna go DANCE!!!!!!!!!!!

OMT…This has, also, helped with my depression so much!!!!!!

Contrary to Cable News Reports….

I am not dead.

OK….I’m exaggerating. Not about not being dead but about the cable news reporting on it. This is in despite of desperately trying to get Bill O’Reilly, Anderson Cooper, and Nancy Grace to do a BIG story on my demise. Apparently, I’m not newsworthy since I haven’t had a 13 year affair with that White woman, done under the table deals with Obama that would make me mega $$$$$$, or waged a war on Christmas.

So, I’m left to wonder what I could do that would be newsworthy. Prehaps a flash mob at a local senior citizen center? Wear a coat made of meat to a Muslim holiday party? Ride up and down the local WalMart aisles dressed in nothing but by glorious nakedness on a Rascal? Would this make me an attention whore? Yes, but ya gotta do what ya gotta do to get your name and face out there. Then, of course, it would be out there on a Wanted poster at the local post office but you know what they say……bad publicity is better than no publicity. And, like many of you, I’m still wondering who in the hell is “they” that say it.

Actually, I’ve been quite busy. And, totally immersed in my new hobby…photography! Check out my Flickr photos or go have a look at my FB picture page….https://www.facebook.com/?ref=tn_tnmn#!/pages/Pictures-That-Tell-Stories-by-PLP-Family/126031340811922.

I promise you, my dear followers (up to FIVE now), I will be back and posting about my crazy redneck life soon.

In the meantime, hope you all have a very Merry CHRISTMAS with a beautiful CHRISTMAS tree, a yummy CHRISTMAS dinner, and lots of CHRISTMAS joy! Enough of that crap, “holiday tree” and stuff.

From all of us at the trailerpark….Willie, Sock Monkey, Mammy, Michael, Olyve, Creepy Man, Mr. Ducky T, and the rest….Merry Christmas!!!!!!

See ya soon!