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!!!!!

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.

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!!!!!

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!

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?

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!

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.

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.

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. 

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.