Ratings

I’ve been demoted.  This has nothing to do with my new boss having read my blog.  (I’m pretty sure she hasn’t.)  Actually, it has nothing to do with my day job at all.

Nope.  I’ve been demoted by my child, the infamous Kid2.

Earlier today, I had this convo:

Kid2: Woman, don’t you EVER answer your phone?

Me: What are you talking about?

Kid2: Well, I’ve sent you like 3 texts lately that you haven’t bothered to respond to.

Me:  Are you feeling unloved?

Kid2: Maybe a little. But one was pretty important, so you suck.

Me: Also, I’m kind of awesome.

Kid2: But mostly you suck.

Me: With a side of awesome.

Kid2: Well, sometimes.

Sometimes!?

I have now been demoted to “sometimes” status on the Scale of Awesome.

So, in order to remedy that, I’ve agreed to go to her sorority Founders Day brunch next month.   I’m not quite sure why she wants me to do this.  Have I mentioned that I like to leave an impression?

“Like to” might be a bit of a stretch.  It kinda just happens.  I can’t be trusted in public settings.

So, apparently, Kid2 is just asking for it.   Which means she secretly loves when I embarrass her.

Which means I’m pretty fucking awesome, whether she’ll admit it or not.

The one where I describe what it’s like to be me.

I got a new boss today. I have a sneaking suspicion that she tastes like bananas.  I didn’t lick her.  There are laws.

BUT, I felt like I could smell bananas all day! It’s a curious thing, seeing as how I actually can’t smell.

Instead, I can taste the air around things.  Sometimes.  Today was one of those times & I’ll be damned if that air didn’t taste like an overripe banana!

Not that my new boss is overripe.  I’m pretty sure she just graduated.  It’s a toss-up as to whether it was college or high school.  Either way, I’m pretty sure I’m old enough to have changed her diapers.

When she was a baby.  Not now.  That’s just weird.

ANYWAY…you know how, when people lose one sense, their other senses are heightened?

It’s a myth.

At least for me.

I can’t speak for blind people.

I can speak for mutes, however.  They usually like it, as long as they don’t know what I’m talking about.

Typically, not being able to smell isn’t a bad thing.  I mean, if you have to give up one of your senses, smell is the best choice.

I’m not clear under which scenario you would be forced to give up a sense.  But, if you ever have to choose, take my advice & go with “smell.”

Apparently, in addition to the loss of smell, I’ve also lost my ability to focus.

My point to all of this is that, while I can’t actually smell, I can taste.  (That’s usually the first thing people want to know when they find out my oddity.)

This is both good & bad.

Bananas?  Good.

Dirty diapers?  Not so much.

Because of this, my kids were all potty trained ridiculously early.  My advice to new moms on potty training?  Taste it.  There is no greater motivator than the taste of a shitty diaper.

I’m hoping my new boss continues to taste like bananas.

**I’m blaming this post on the huffing that I may have accidentally done yesterday while doing arts & crafts.  In an enclosed space.  With both spray paint and high performance spray adhesive.**

Bonesy Claus

If you’re on my Christmas list this year, let’s be honest… You are one lucky bitch!  First of all, because the list of people I gift is notoriously small.  But also?  You’re kinda gonna love what I got you.

See, as a woman of few skills, I can easily spot when I do have one.

I haven’t figured out a way to make a living doing it yet, but I’m a gifted gift giver.  AND, I can totally figure out a way to not break the bank while finding you that perfect gift!

Although, if you ask anyone at my bank, my account is pretty broke already.

As a mom of 4 kids, with a broken bank account … It’s a skill borne of necessity.  Playing Santa for a litter is pretty tough, especially for someone who loathes shopping as much as I do.   I mean, while I can appreciate a good mullet, neck tattoo,  or 6 inches of ass crack proudly displayed by a hairy 350 lb woman… Fighting mouth-breathers for a bunch of shitty Made-In-China presents in a WalMart?  Not my thing.

So I have taken internet shopping & made it my bitch.

This year, all of my gifts were either bought online, at locally owned & operated businesses, or online at locally owned & operated businesses in OTHER areas.   While I’d like to flip the ratio of online-to-local purchases, I’m content with where it’s at for now.  There really aren’t all that many locally owned shops in my area &, quite frankly, I like to sit around in my underwear.

(Kidding, kids… Please don’t run to disinfect the desk chair.)

Also?  When I give you a gift, it’s a pretty safe bet that you will have NO idea what the fuck is inside.  I will box your shit up in some random packaging that has nothing to do with it.

Generic saltine box?

Been there.

Instant oatmeal?

Done that.

Think I got you an iPhone?  Um, open that fucker up.  It’s NOT what you think!

I really liked when my kids FINALLY stopped believing in Santa.  I may have had something to do with Kid4 not believing after around age 6.  I’m not saying I outright told her he’s not real, but I certainly didn’t try to convince her of it when she started to suspect.

By “started to suspect,” I mean “let the older kids tell her.”

Hey, don’t judge.  She’s nearly an adult now & she turned out just fine.  Mostly.

Plus, after they no longer believed, we started a new tradition.  Gift tags no longer say they’re from “Santa” or “Mom & Dad.”

Now, they get gifts from The Grinch, Heat Miser, Yukon Jack, & Abominable Snowman.

Plus an occasional inappropriate or irreverent present from Baby Jesus.

It’s just how I roll.

And Baby Jesus gives the best gifts.

Next year, maybe I’ll do a Bonesy’s Gifted Gift Guide.

Who knew one little notebook could cause such a stir? In someone’s pants.

I managed to do the unthinkable.

Somehow, in my hurry to escape the precinct I work on election day, I left my notebook behind.   A water-stained, raggedy repository for chicken scratched random thoughts, blog post starts, F words, & sexual references, it’s like my brain… on paper.    Which means it could be pretty dangerous in the hands of the wrong people.

Like the senior citizens I left it with.

See, my precinct…is also the activity center/dance hall for a senior citizen’s apartment complex.

After the shock wore off, I had a quick moment where I thought it was kind of cool.  Basically, I had left my innermost thoughts in the hands of America’s greatest generation… who probably hadn’t seen any action since 1972.  If I couldn’t get it back, I hoped they had passed it around, letting it spread through their colony like a herpes virus.

Which, according to my friend Izabella, is kind of how it works.  Apparently, they’re considered the greatest generation for a reason.  They do get action, & plenty of it!  Senior centers are one of the top contributors to the spread of various STDs.

Ummm…

So I kind of just started a new epidemic?

We’re going to call it The Dor.  It’s kind of like the clap, minus the oozing genitals & painful urination.

Side Note: DO NOT Google “the clap symptoms” from your cubicle at work.  You never know who’s going to walk up behind you & conclusions cannot be un-jumped.

You’re welcome.

Obviously, I worked my ass off Tuesday.  It was a busy election, especially considering it had a couple of hot-button issues on it. (Most importantly, a motion to repeal Ohio Senate Bill 5, which limited collective bargaining rights for public employees.)

But that’s not my point.

Between voters, I had been working on a new post.  Laptops and cell phones are not allowed in the polling locations, so I was working on it old-school, scribbling things in my notebook every chance I got.

Because do you know what’s funnier than old people?  Old people who have no idea they’re funny!

One of my judges is a talker.  I mean, she NEVER STOPS!  While that normally makes me a little crazy, I was loving it!  She just kept saying things that cracked me up, but she had no idea why I was laughing.

- Do you have a Johnson?

- Which one do you have?  8″?

- And then you can get behind her.

- Just stick it in.

- They packed me real good one time.

- They checked this girl & she was writhing in the bed!

- She was crawling on the floor & couldn’t get in the bed.

- You get down on your knees?

- I had a guy tell me once I should never get on my knees.

- Who did you?

- He had to put both hands behind my knees & flip me over!

- A doctor told me once that it’s in my personality to get really attached really fast.

(THEN SHE PULLED OUT A KNIFE!  So, my laughter was more of a nervous wide-eyed “heh heh heh.”)

Anyway, by the time I realized the notebook was gone, the senior center was closed.  So, I called before work the next morning.  It wasn’t in the lost & found, but I knew it had to be there… or in the backseat of my Judge 2′s minivan… OR turned into the Board of Elections with the ballots.

While none of the three would be easy to face up to, I was really hoping I hadn’t turned it in.  Something tells me the county would frown upon my multi-tasking.

I decided to stop by the senior center on my way to work.  After checking the lost & found again, I convinced the office manager to let me look around in the ballroom.

Nothing.

….Until we checked a closet in the back.

Apparently, the guy who locked up that night decided to spend a little “alone time” with my notebook.

He must have been interrupted, though.  It was lying open to a particularly explicit page… on an organ.

You can fill in your own joke about an organ in the closet.

I’ll be busy disinfecting my notebook.

For the record, I didn't notice any suspicious new stains.

Howdy, Neighbor!

I’m sure I’ve mentioned once or twice that I hail  from nomads. My family moved about once a year while I was growing up.   Besides the fact that I was always the socially awkward new kid, it was kind of a cool upbringing.  See,  a childhood of rentals = a constant parade of human oddities.  Almost like a never-ending county fair freak show or Ripley’s Believe It Or Not!

We just had a LOT of downright strange neighbors!

There was Marsha, the female Elephant Man.  Okay, truth be told, she was actually just a really big woman covered in moles.  But she had a super-cool live-in boyfriend who liked to invite me into the basement when she wasn’t home!

Wait, maybe that wasn’t such a good thing.

But he did let me play with his…

Vial of mercury.

What were you thinking? 

Come to think of it, mercury poisoning kind of explains a lot about that guy.

My favorite move brought us right next door to Grace & Bob.  They seemed like a harmless old couple…at first.  Turns out, they were a horrifying train wreck of a couple that you couldn’t help but to watch all wide-eyed, but from a safe distance.

Or, as safe a distance as you could find from next door while still watching.

Bob was kind of slow & mostly suicidal, and would occasionally lock himself in the shed & catch it on fire.

But Grace?  Hoo boy!  She was full on crazycakes.   Like use-the-cuff-of-your-jeans-for-an-ashtray CRAZYCAKES!

So, we totally used that to our advantage.

Once, when my sister & I found a dead mouse, we had Grace come over to “take care” of it for us.  (Don’t judge.  We don’t like critters!)  Grace came in, picked the little bastard up by the tail, sniffed it a few times… Then said “Mmm.. Lunch!” as she walked out the front door.

We didn’t have the balls heart to ask if she really did make lunch.

But, my friend Kelly & I did make her breakfast once!  We put some eggs in her mailbox one Saturday night on the hottest week of that summer.  We sat at my bedroom window, waiting for her to check the mail on Monday, but I don’t remember actually seeing it.  I do know she blamed the girls who lived a couple of streets away, though.   She couldn’t get the stench out, so wanted them to buy her a new mailbox.

Can I get arrested for a federal offense 25 years after the fact?  What is the statute of limitations on tampering with someone’s mailbox, anyway?

Then, when I was about 15, we moved into a ramshackle rental in a bad section of town.  Not long after we pulled up in the U-Haul, a few of our new neighbors came over and offered to help.  They were two good-looking couples, clean-cut & uber-friendly.

Also, they were cult members.

Even after my mom found out they were cult members, she still sent me to run errands with them.   You know, totally normal errands, like going door-to-door handing out tracts.  Scouring the real estate section for recent closings so we could “help” new neighbors in OTHER neighborhoods.  Inviting people to “meetings” where they could experience something called “new birth.”

I was good with it for a while.  I mean, what do I care if people get brainwashed?  They were nice to me, paid me in Pepsi, & bought me a few new outfits for our cross-town missions.

I drew the line when they invited me to go out of town with them for “training.”   I mean, brainwashing is fine for OTHER people, but for me?  I think I’ll pass.

I thought I had left all of that behind when I got married.

Then all hell broke loose.

No, really.  I’m pretty sure that hell actually broke open & unleashed the devil’s spawn to my neighborhood, in the form of a little boy named Johnny.

To be fair, Johnny clearly wasn’t “right.”  I don’t judge for that.  What I DO judge him for are the actions that took place over the several years we lived there.  Peeping.  Theft.  Flat tires. Dented cars.  Exposure. Urinating on my house.  Threats of physical violence.  Did I mention he was armed?  Grandpa thought he was old enough for a pocket knife when he turned 12.  Yeah, all of that happened BEFORE HE TURNED 12!

What’s a NORMAL family to do when the psychotic neighbor boy now carries a blade?

Move.

And now?  Now we live in a nice, quiet neighborhood, right next to a man who drives the Scooby Mobile.  A 50-year-old man in a PT Cruiser, with “Scooby” decal-ed across the back window… and a giant stuffed Scooby Doo in the passenger seat.

Or we DID live next to him.  He was taken to jail a couple of weeks ago, after drunkenly crashing his car twice in one day, shooting up the tree in his front yard,  then holding the still-loaded gun to his wife’s head.

*Sigh*

Maybe it’s time to move on.

Things In My Text Box

I think I’ve mentioned that my “Things In My Text Box” posts are my most popular. I get asked about new ones a lot. The thing is, it takes a REALLY long time to put these together! They’re not actual conversations…usually. So there’s a lot of copying & sorting that goes on behind the scenes… proof that just about any conversation can sound dirty if you cut it up and piece it in with other posts.

- So you like my new moves?  I got 57% off my bellydancing lessons from Groupon!

- (…) laughed.  It was fun, though maybe some wine next time wouldn’t hurt.

- Dude…we’re hung!

- It’s as big as my head.

- Yep. And she’s one big bitch!

- Sock Monkey is happy to see you.

- Dude, does he have a wad in his mouth?

- That was quick.

- Mmm… Tasty knockers.

- She ordered lickers today.

- Eater?
- I tend to stop talking when I eat it.

- Just say O.

- Is that a peeperdink in plastic?

- No, a popsicle…but I bet the peeperdink would taste better.  Although would make me hotter, so prob not in my best interest in the office today.

- Like the ass shot with her latex hole?

- Better, but still pretty stiff.

- So now what? How are you gonna afford the trip & a tranny?

- Good point. Guess I’ll stick to Nekkid Baby.

- It’s PEDO DAY!

- Pedo day is over & you said last one 2 pics ago!

- I’m sorry. Want to ride in my car?

- Don’t make me drown your baby in a bucket.  Society frowns on that.

- Yeah really! Especially the boys!  The ugly baby just doesn’t stand a chance in life, but at the freak tent.

-  (…)’s toes are conjoined. Doesn’t it make you want to rip them apart?

- Just left calling hours. It was like a circus! They had a midget, a guy in a coon tail hat, soldiers, a gigantic fat lady, an oldie with a trach box, and a dude in holy sweat pants.

- All you need is a midget to complete the circle of weird.  God luck!

- I just figured that’s the only reason you would execute one of your beloved circus midgets! lol

- I’m gonna guess that midget is getting the death penalty because he tried to escape?

- Decided to be merciful & just put him in solitary, huh? lol

- Just be glad it’s not you being hung, stapled, or guillotined today.

- He was a little creepy there, stapled to the gate.

- Find her yet?

- hahaha Did you catch him? Those little fuckers are fast!

- Bitch is like a ninja.  A super short, squatty ninja.

- Asians can’t be trusted.

- Persia in his testicles?

- Will not feel manhood.

- How does it feel…cupcake?

- Feels like I married a man who can’t spell.  Good thing you’re good in bed.

- Can u feel ky pain?

- No, KY usually helps to avoid pain.

- I bet! Also, your ass is totally gonna hurt.

- With a little eu de ass grease mixed in?  FABULOUS!!!

- But I did a wicked high kick to get his juicy lil ass. You’d have been proud! And (…) would start getting ideas.

- He keeps moving.  I’ll try again!

- lol Fanny pack

- Gosh I love 5 guys too, but I don’t make an afternoon of it.

- You’re doing 5 guys & letting my boy watch?  Shameless!!

- Yep, but so good…Esp the Cajun.

- WWJD

- Ur son is on!!  Dirty bitch!!

- Getting’ your Debby Boone on this morning, eh?

- I refuse to answer this question on the grounds that I was clearly drunk @ the time.

- SCORE!  Little blurry, though.  Have you been drinking?  Have I?

- Sorry if I make no sense right now, I am drunk texting….lol

- Did you let those Republican bastards get you drunk?

- Um, no.  But that would make election day FABULOUS!

- And only wish I was drunk, instead of @ work, slammed.  But not slammed in a good way.

- There asRd birds filllyiing iin mny rreooM

- ThE delepHanT is allivee I sAw it say Hi

- lol Are you drunk?  Worst grammar I’ve ever seen from you!  Np though.

-  Have you been drinking again?

- Dammit.  Drink more.

- Holy fuck!! Did you become a drunk?!  So proud.

- Wait, no I’m not!!

- Yes I am.

- I get free cocktail plus I’m tellg on pee man

- I got him to snort it.

- Greedy lil bastard ate my vicodin!

- Well then quit being a cheap ass & buy the childproof bottles dammit!

- Holy fuck, I forgot where I left him!

- Good!  Jesus, I need an inhaler & some valium.

- Oh. That’s how I roll.  Dishing out my stash in baggies.

- LMAO Can’t argue with that!

- Good to hear! I’m fucked up…but not in THAT way…just generally speaking

- Believe it or not, I just painted a cat on a wall.

- Real cat?

- Wait, are you SURE it’s the cats? There are a lot of mullets in that room.

- WTF? Driving thru shack country?

- Stupid hillbillies.

- SO surprised they’re Steelers fans!

- Wth is wrong with these people?

-  Bet they like Walmart too, huh?

- Walmart peeps are the best hollerers.

- Who’s f’ing idea was that?  Idiots!

- Hope he tries to do the electric by himself. We’ll have one less asshole in the world. SCORE!!

- I’m starting to like it more & more as I talk to you!

- I’m so tired my head could be asleep & the rest of me could be moving. Does that even make sense? Probably not! Its my fingers moving my head is napping.

- haha Well, as long as your fingers are moving, work has to pay you.  It’s like a law.

- I’ve been stealing Cube Troll’s tissues for a week She walks away & I steal tissues to fill my empty box. She just said “Boy, that box of tissues went really fast!” I lol’d.

- Oh no! Hope u feel better soon! If I was there I would bedazzle your forehead.

- Suddenly, I’m a little glad you’re not here.

- You’re supposed to be working, not being a bitch.

- I get that from my momma!

- Right now I’m watching baseball & being a b-word.

- That’s how I always stand b-word

- Now you’re just being a bitch.

- Dude, (…) broke your toe?  That bitch!

- OMFG.. I’m all comfy on my couch, ready to get my JJ on…when Oprah says “Coming up, Joan Jett…with Miley Cyrus.”  THAT FUCKING BITCH!

- Fucking Oprah ruined it for me.  Also, I’m pretty sure Avril is a moldy-haired robot on crack.

- Wanna see something funny/creepy looking?

- Um, is the dude on the left wearing a white wig? Is that a chick in the center, or another dude in a wig?  WHO ARE THESE PPL?  Are they fucking with you, or do they always look like that?

- You have beautiful new friends.

- Um, Ned = Needy.  I don’t even know anybody named Ned.

- Dammit!  I need to find a new dead guy then!

- Well I have bodies here now…BYOB & a covered dish.

- Dude, I think I just got reverse emphysema!

- Yes. Remind me not to ride with them again.  Also, pray.

- Got it.  Except for the prayer.  If there were a god, he would kill you for spite if I started praying now.

- PRAY, DAMMIT!

- So your deathbed wish is for me to start praying?  Interesting.

- hahaha no prob. Sucks to be me all around.  Something tells me I’ll be on my deathbed someday & bitch will be right beside me going “hahahahahaaaaa. I LOVE IT!”

- Isn’t that the hooker mom?

- Yeah! Her tramp stamp goes halfway up her back.  Don’t ask me how I know that though.

- She’s a whore

- Whatever pays the bills, kid.

- Yay for money!!

- (…) is a lying whore!

- Whorebucket.

- Slutwhistle.

- Trampduster.

- I’m not a ho, mom!

- hahaha that makes SO much more sense

- I’d let you borrow my vibrators, but that’s just wrong.

- My car is a giant vibrator

- Oh. Sounds like a good time. Be careful. You could have taken my Jeep.

- Thanks, but I’m here already. Ride seemed so much shorter w a vibrator. WHO KNEW?!

- That’s how I roll…rubbing it in in my new shirt

- Not sure how I missed this tale of high flyin’ adventure, but love it!

- How come all these cool things happen to you?!

- U shouldn’t! Bad girl!!! And pull ur own damn pork.

- I mean, I don’t do it, I just put on sweats.

- Um…well this would be an awkward convo to have in public.

- Love love love the Thunderpussy

- You should go touch all the people you don’t like!

- Agreed, but not something girly.

- I have a love/hate with mine too.

- Your daughter just said “they want their beef tips in my lady tits!”

- I told them to touch her boobies.

-hahaha and did they?

- She said to back the fuck off.

- Pussies.

- Those are the most luscious looking lips I have ever seen Woo wee!!

- Cute lips! Is he part of the basket?

- Surgical center of vagina

- They must have heard about his super hot mesh undies. Boom chicka bow wow

- Holy fuck, I got sweaty just looking at that!

- It’s not really called Boogie Nights..it’s Boogie…something.  I like BN better. It makes me think of porn star Marky Mark & I am all about that shit!

- Right!! & I would so porn star with marky mark! I’m a practicing nun at the moment but he could make me give up the nun hood.

- Is it still porn if I pay him?

- haha!!  Ummm I’m not sure but if u get to have sex with him who cares?!

- Good point.  What’s a little prostitution between friends? Ok, technically we’re not friends yet…but we COULD be after a little stalking.  And I’d be a VERY good friend to have.

- I agree! Ur the best! I’m not sure about the hooka stuff but friend stuff I know about

- Yeah, I only save my hooka stuff for super hott porn dudes.

- Me too!! I’d be a hooka for that

- Well I HAVE been practicing.

- Republicans love penises.

- Conservative Republicans REALLY love penises…esp the men.

- Our secret.

- I’m not really sure what this is, but it’s not what it looks like.

- It’s not what you’re thinking.

- Oops I am very talented!!

- Love you too! So glad I came…bought some shit, got to hang out, preview of Maude-fit…and church lady’s face during blowjob convo = PRICELESS

- Holy fuck, the world is coming to an end…I heard I was getting a bj tonight

- Crickets

- Fuckers

- haha You just want me to have babies with an OSU athlete

- Well it is an easy way to get tix…other than the pregnancy, labor, delivery, & permanent damage to your girly parts

- You’re right, the tix are all that matter.

- Best picture I could get of my daddy. (realize just how wrong that is)

- Make sure you tell him to come home. Tomorrow’s Mother’s Day & mama has needs.

- Hope she didn’t wake up pregnant & herpified.

- She is a saint! This child needs a good beating.

- I just looked at her & thought really bad thoughts.

- (eye rolling)

- Can you hear my eyes rolling?

- Wow, kinda like being the normal kid in a special needs class.

- I’ve almost drank 36 oz of water already. I have to pee SO BAD but idk where the bathroom is in here. You may be able to call me pee pants after today.

- I would LOVE THAT!!!! Also…keep drinking.

- Stop throwing down that flippin’ wax, y’ fool!

- But it’s just so damn fun watching the old ppl slip & slide!

- It says ur the elderly!!  Oh shit!

-  haha are you doin’ a lil jig? Side looks good, but can’t see the top

- That is topology funny!

-   –l—that’s a middle finger.

- Ha – Please tell me those are (…)’s feet.

- Man Skechers OHHH yeah!

- Phone is small, so looks like a really young superspy holding gun @ his side. Which means he’s obvs not a very good superspy, seeing as how he’s standing in the open, middle of a brick wall & all.

- I just saw a fat guy on a moped.  HILARIOUS

- haha was his fat spilling down the sides like a blubber falls?

- Abt mess undies?

- “I’ll tell you what, I got the diarrhea again.”

- Um, is that spam with corn in it?

-  Bloody waters? SERIOUSLY?!

Yeah, I probably should have quit before the last few.

Show Me

So, here we are more than a month after my last post.  Again.  I’m hoping this isn’t a trend. It’s not like I had a tornado ravage my home, leaving me unable to post.  Nope, I have no excuses or reasons.  I just wasn’t writing.  And, apparently, that actually matters to some people!  WHO KNEW?!!?

Thanks, Mecca, for the nudge.  Looks like I needed it.

So, speaking of tornadoes, I’m starting to wonder if Fate took the term “Show-Me State” as a challenge.

Seriously… Missouri?!  Why pick on Missouri?  I’ve been through that state & I’m here to tell ya, there is not much there.

(So wrong…but as I wrote that, my first thought was “Even less now.”  *sigh*  I don’t mean to be mean, it’s just how my brain works!)

So, there’s not much in Missouri… other than the Nicest People On The Planet.  Yes, that’s an official title.  On two separate occasions, I have been at my most ridiculously low point…and both times I was found & bailed out by Missourians.  Okay, not officially “bailed out.”  That just sounds bad.

Let me explain.

Many years ago, when my husband got out of the military, we decided to head home to the Midwest.  (In retrospect, WTF were we thinking?! We lived in SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA at the time!)  We had a toddler, a newborn, & an Australian Shepherd puppy, so we bought an RV from an old surfer dude to make the trip.  A friend tagged along, driving the UHaul that held all of our belongings.

(BTW, somewhere in Southern California is an aging surfer still waiting for his last $100.  I hope he’s not sitting by the mailbox.)

About a day & a half into the trip, the baby got sick.  There I was trapped in a rickety old RV with an attention-starved toddler, a crying baby, a hyperactive puppy, and a husband trying to keep his shit together and his gypsy train on the road.

All I can say is, it’s a good thing they were all cute.  There may have been a moment or three when I looked at them all with a narrowed eye, considering which was least good looking…and would fit easiest through the drafty crank windows.

Well, apparently my raging stress levels were creating an energy storm felt in surrounding vehicles.  (Either that, or the screams coming from our surfer wagon made it more of a rolling house of horrors.)

At the next gas stop, Jimmy (the friend) suspiciously offered to take Saxon (my puppy, not my toddler or my baby) in the truck with him.

Two hours later, the RV filled with smoke.  The problem is, the front windows were open…and the fire was in an engine compartment right behind the passenger seat.  So the fresh air was fanning the flames & blowing the smoke into the back of the rig.  Since my back was turned & I can’t smell, it took a while to notice.  By the time we pulled over, there was significant damage to the engine & smoke billowing out the windows.  Jimmy pulled over 50 yards or so ahead of us & ran back to help.

That’s when Saxon jumped out the window, into traffic on a busy highway.

The first time he was hit, it was a glancing blow that knocked him down and a few feet to the side.

He got up, limping but determined to make it back to us.

The second hit threw him into the air, and he landed with a thud in the next lane.

He got up again, and tried hobbling toward us, one leg dangling and his head down.

He was hit a third time before Jimmy ran into traffic and scooped Saxon up.  He died on the side of the road, just inside the Missouri border.

They managed to jerry-rig the engine compartment together, which worked long enough to get us into Rolla, MO.  There, we found a run-down motel with two vacancies, just as a monsoon rain opened up on us.  Did I mention this was in October?  So, it was cold.  And our motel room had no heat.

The baby got sick, the RV caught on fire, the dog died, the toddler watched it, and we were stuck in the middle of nowhere, in monsoon rains, in mid-fall, with no heat.

Yeah, that’s just about rock bottom right there.

In the morning, we walked to a diner next to the motel.  It was a Sunday, and most everything was closed.  After hearing us tell our story to the waitress, someone offered to take my husband to a parts store that he knew was open.  Another stranger hooked him up with a garage willing to open up and lend him the tools needed to fix the RV.  Someone else bought our breakfast.  When we were still there at lunch, the diner covered that cost.

We left Rolla that evening with a newfound appreciation for small-town life and Missourians, in particular.

And then… just a few years ago, Missouri came through for me again.

I took the kids to Tennessee with my sister’s family.  We spent a week there, doing the typical family vacation stuff.  On the final day, we split up.  Kim headed home with her family while I took my kids up Clingman’s Dome.  The goal was to make it to the highest point in the Smokies before heading home ourselves.  We made our way slowly up the mountain, sporadically getting out to hike or check out the view.

Just before we got to the top, the truck started to overheat.

And slow down.

I haven’t been up many mountains.  But I assume most mountains are like Clingman’s Dome… lots of sheer drops and rock walls, but not so many pull-offs.

Just before my truck rolled to a complete stop, a pull-off appeared around the bend.  I got out & put the hood up (not that I’d know what to do once I was under there).  That’s when I noticed the heavy stream of reddish-brown fluid running under the truck and down the mountain.  I had blown the transmission seal (or something).  The point was… there was NO way I was going to make it the rest of the way up that mountain.  I had the kids get out and move away from the truck while I tried to put it in gear, hoping to turn it around and coast back down.  Only when I put it in drive, it rolled backward, just inches from the edge of a several hundred-foot drop.

At this point, we still thought this was funny.

That’s when I had my meltdown.  The kids got back in the truck, as I went behind it to lose my shit & make some frantic calls for help.

By now, we had been stuck for nearly an hour, watching cars from every state (including my own) drive past my steaming vehicle.  I got some stares, a few dirty looks… but not one of those drivers would pull over to help a mom & 4 kids.  (Okay, other than a guy from Florida, who took Kid1 to the ranger station at the top of the dome to call for a tow truck.)

Not surprisingly, the first car with a Missouri plate DID pull over.  The couple offered to take us down the mountain, but I had to stay and wait for the tow.  Instead, since I knew we wouldn’t all fit into the tow truck, they took my sons down the mountain and into Gatlinburg.  They dropped them off in town, where they met up with my sister (who had been 2 hours away, but had turned around to help me figure out what the hell to do next).  They handed us a few bottles of water, and what was left of their box of granola bars to hold us over.  I was also given a sheet of notebook paper with their names, vehicle make & model, license plate number, and places of employment.  The wife explained that they had kids, too, so she would feel better knowing that I was comfortable with the people I was turning my sons over to.

See?! NICEST PEOPLE IN THE WORLD!

Five freezing hours later (BIG temperature difference at the top of that mountain!), the tow truck arrived.  We squeezed into the cab of the truck, Kid2 awkwardly in the middle (where the driver had to reach between her knees to shift gears), and Kid4 on my lap.   45 minutes later, he dropped us off at his “station,” a small garage in a nearby town, and we slowly made our way back into Gatlinburg via a long and convoluted series of trolley rides.

By the time we met back up with my sons (and sister’s family), we were exhausted and drenched from the rain that had opened up as soon as we stepped off the first trolley.  We checked into the last open room in town, a dive motel with two beds.

There were 10 of us.

We abandoned my SUV, heading home the next day in a rental.

And the Missourians who helped us get off that mountain?  I got a call from them a few days later.  They wanted to see if we made it home okay, or if we might need a ride.  No mention of how MY state was in the exact opposite direction of Missouri.

I don’t know that any of the MO peeps that have come through for me have been directly affected by the recent tornadoes and flooding.  All I know is that if the tables were turned & I needed help, MO peeps would be there.

So, I’m asking MY peeps to be there for them.

Please click http://www.cnn.com/2011/US/05/23/joplin.how.to.help/index.html?hpt=T2 .  There you’ll find a listing of the various ways to help the Joplin, MO recovery.

They’d do it for you.

Scattered

I need to invent a word.  Or, maybe it’s already been invented & I’m just not aware of it yet.  I’d google it, but I’m feeling a little lazy tonight.  So, I’ll just ask you…

Is there a version of peer pressure that pertains to your kids?

Apparently, I kind of checked out of my blog for a while.  I know this because tonight, as I was making dinner, Kid4 said “You haven’t posted in FOREVER.”

Really?  FOREVER??

Oh.  Right.  April 7… 23 days ago.  Yeah, that kind of qualifies as “forever.”

But you’re still not my peer, Kid4!

And THIS is what you get for pressuring me into a post…..

Where have I been for the past 3+ weeks?  Hell if I know.  No, seriously…. I could have been in hell.  I’m not quite sure.

It seems like I’ve been really busy.  I don’t have anything to show for it, though, which means it’s been a pretty unproductive brand o’ busy. So I guess I’ll give you a little run-down of the stuff that’s happened over the past month & hope it amounts to a post.  If not, this is going to be a post about nothing.  I should probably apologize for that now & just get it out of the way.

Also, if this doesn’t amount to a post,  Kid4 will get on my case again.  Apparently, I’M what she does in BioChem.

Today, I nearly hit a chicken.  No, this isn’t a euphemism or a veiled reference to my road rage.  I seriously almost hit a chicken!  I wasn’t even mad at the time.  I have no idea why a chicken was just randomly walking down a fairly busy road, but I will tell you that he OWNED it!  Cars were swerving & he was just walking all cool & chicken-y.  I tried to snap a picture, but all I got was a blurry little black dot, even though he was brown.  Guess you’ll just have to take my word for it.

I don’t have a Volkswagen anymore.  I sold mine last year, but I’m still a little jealous of anyone who IS driving one.  Except for the chick I was behind a few days ago.  She had a gray boa hanging from her rear view mirror & it looked like a dead cat.  Strangely, it almost matched the color of the car,  & now I can’t see a VW without thinking of the dead cat that wasn’t.

In my head, that totally made sense.

Okay… my Pandora Evanescence station just advertised “Underwear.  Learn about underwear” in a link at the bottom of the screen.  WTF?!  What does underwear have to do with Evanescence?  And WHO wants or needs to learn about underwear?  Is there really all that much to learn?  Curious.  Wonder what Evanescence thinks about that?  Are they even still together?  Is it me, or does Amy Lee look exactly like the chick who played Anne Boleyn on “The Tudors?”  Why isn’t the chick who played Anne Boleyn in more stuff?  Girl was AWESOME!

Earlier this week, while I was shopping at Goodwill, I got hit on by a chick.   I was carrying olive green polyester pants, which apparently make me irresistible.  Who knew!?

While I was standing behind her in the checkout line, her debit card got rejected.   Where do you have to be in your life to get your debit card rejected at Goodwill?  Isn’t that pretty much the lowest point you could reach?  On one hand, I kind of felt bad for her.  On the other… Well, here I am blogging about it.

Have you seen the movie “Stone?”  Don’t.  My eyeballs are permanently seared by Milla Jovovich’s 3 inch long nipples & sex scenes with her & Robert DeNiro.  Seriously, her boobies WERE the ugliest I’d ever seen!  Then I watched “Human Planet” the next day.  Milla didn’t hold the record long.

Speaking of body parts… At work, I got an order from someone named Dotty Hymen.  I know I’m basically a 12 year old boy inside a middle aged woman’s body… but holy fuck that cracked me up!!  And I was sick at the time, so it was a phlegmy, wheezy Muttley laugh, which made me laugh even harder, which made me cough up the other lung.  So it was kind of a win-loss thing.  But I still texted a bunch of people to tell them about it.  Seriously… DOTTY HYMEN?  I feel like I want to google that, but I’m kind of afraid of what I might find.

I should totally be sleeping right now.   This turned out to be a scattered, disjointed post about nothing & it had no flow.  Apologies… but I’m totally blaming Kid4 for pressuring  bullying me into it.

Rage In My Machine

Have I mentioned the fact that I’m a road rager?  ‘Cause I totally am.  And, I’m finally coming to realize that maybe it’s not such a good thing.  You see, I make bad choices.  That’s it.  That’s my confession.  I make bad choices, leading to very bad things, and very bad language, all directed at VERY BAD DRIVERS!!!

… Who may or may not be little old ladies.

… Or drivers ed kids.

Yeah, I’ve reamed both this week.

And, while both totally deserved it, I still felt a little twinge of guilt as I sped past them with my middle finger extended and a winning, expletive-laced tirade that would make Charlie Sheen AND his goddesses blush.

But just a little twinge.

It could have been the terror I saw in that little old lady’s face.

Or the fact that the teenage girl looked like she was just about ready to cry.

OR… the fact that my OWN 16 year old girl had a moving mishap of her own this past weekend.

While I was in the car.

Like most new drivers, she doesn’t like to park.    She can’t quite gauge the turning radius or width of my car just yet.  Despite this, I forced gently encouraged her to snag a just-opened spot close to the grocery store. 

 I mean, seriously, how often does THAT happen?  You have to take advantage of those once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, dammit!

Anyway, as she was turning into the spot, she mis-judged and went to back up a bit to try again.  As she did THAT…another car turned into the lane behind us AND the bastard in the gigantic truck next to that spot decided to back out.  It was a parking lot clusterfuck & she was right in the center of it all.

I screamed.

Not AT her, of course…It was more in an “OH MY GOD, WE’RE TOTALLY GONNA DIE!” way.

But without words.

So, it was really more of a high pitched ”AAAAH!” 

Whatever.

My point to this is… Double standard much?

(For the record, nothing happened.  No collisions, no bumping.  She’d probably want me to point that out.)

Also, I recently had a near throw-down over a traffic incident.  I laid into an asshole guy so hard, he threw his car into park, opened his door & charged me.  I’m pretty sure the only reason I’m sitting here today, typing, is the fact that his oh-so-sensible wife convinced his hard-charging ass to get back in the car… Clearly, beating the crap out of an overweight,  middle-aged woman in the busiest shopping area in town was not in his best interests.  Y’know, thanks to the witnesses and parking lot cameras.

But me?  I had totally thrown open my own car door & was ready to go at it.  Um, WTF?!   Apparently, that’s just how pissed I get when people cut me off.  I’m willing to throw down with a guy twice my size & half my age in a parking lot, regardless of the presence of witnesses and lot cams. 

It may be time for a little yoga or anger management.

The One Where I Face My Fear

I don’t think I’ve mentioned it before, but I live work in a gigantic, creepy old building.  The company’s roots go back to the 1800s & basically the existing structure was put up around the original storefront.    It’s a strange place; a mix of old and older architecture and building materials.

Floors that look to be made of brick … aren’t.  They’re actually 6′ tall wooden posts, standing on end.  They’ve been ground down, and worn smooth-ish by a century of work boots.  And now they’re coated with that century of industrial grime, so you can’t tell what color they’re supposed to be anymore.

Carts pulled by tow motor today were the same ones pulled by mules nearly 100 years ago. They just swapped out the piece that used to attach to a harness for a yoke that hooks up to the tow motor.

For a history geek like me, it’s a wondrous place!  Well, other than the “work” part, anyway.  It’s kind of like urban exploring, minus all the rats and homeless dudes.

I never found this wall creepy...till now.

Also, it would make a FABULOUS setting for a slasher movie, complete with hooks dangling from conveyor lines, leading into gigantic ovens, and lots of hidden, dark nooks & crannies.

Hint, Hint, Hollywood!

But that’s not my point to this story.

It’s a manufacturing plant.  So, mixed in with all that super-cool, early century, industrial architecture is a bunch of grimy antique machinery.  Which PROBABLY means a bloody, violent history of industrial accidents and crushing injuries.  Because, you know what they DIDN’T have in turn-of-the-century manufacturing plants?  Safety!

Also, there were two murders in fairly recent history, but both before I started there…. Just in case y’all had your suspicions about me!

Despite all of this, I’ve never felt uncomfortable working there.  I mean, OF COURSE we have our share of office creepers, tit-starers, & cube trolls… but every company has those!

I mean UNCOMFORTABLE.

That all changed for me last week.

When I’m not writing or talking to my husband, I spend my lunch hours walking in a section of the old plant.  It hasn’t been in use since the 60s, so it now just holds our archived material and old, unused office furniture.  But it’s fairly big & mostly private, so makes a good place to hide out and get my fat ass in gear.

Last week, I headed up there to walk & take some pics I had in mind for a future post.  I had been up there nearly 45 minutes, and had taken tons of pictures.  Okay, maybe 30 – 35.  Whatever.

ANYWAY…  As I turned the corner in the back of the warehouse, “something” grabbed me.

This is right about the place it happened.

I don’t know how you feel about ghosts or spirits.  Most people are skeptics & I totally get that.  I was a skeptic once, too.

All I can tell you is that “something” grabbed my shoulder.  It wasn’t painful or forceful at all.  It was more like you would grab a friend’s shoulder if you walked up behind them.

Only cold.

VERY cold.

It was the kind of cold you get when you’re mixing up ground meat & the bones in your fingers start to ache…  But without the risk of  e coli poisoning & fat under your fingernails.

I’m not sure how, or why… But I didn’t scream.  I just felt all of the air rush out of my lungs in a silent gush as I flipped my head around to see who or what was there.

I was alone.

And, suddenly, I didn’t feel NEARLY as comfortable being alone up there with the dangling hooks and dark corners.

My fat ass got in gear, alright.  I got the hell out of there!  I was shaky and nervous, & had a hard time catching my breath.  That could be because my heart had plummeted into my lungs, crushing all of the air out.  OR it could just be because I’m fat & asthmatic and had just ran the length of the warehouse.

Either/or.

Remember those pictures I mentioned?  Of the 30 – 35 that I took, only 2 were on my phone when I checked them.  I can’t say what happened to the rest, but I had “saved” all of them to my memory card.

When I settled down, I asked a couple of “old-timers” if they had ever heard of any strange occurrences up there.  They hadn’t.  And, I’m not sure they took me seriously.

I did hear other stories, though, all from the main part of the plant… The part STILL in use…

Flickering lights seen on security guard monitors.

Cold spots in the middle of summer, when temperatures reach into the 90s in certain areas.

“Things” seen out of the corner of your eye that just can’t be explained.

Doors that open and close, seemingly at will.

Noises.

Voices.

All common occurrences, at least in places that are supposedly haunted.

But this?

This was different.  No one had ever mentioned being touched.

Yesterday, I ventured back up into that warehouse.

I’m happy to announce that nothing touched me.  So, y’know…

Bonesy 1 – Unseen, Cold, Creepy Thing 1.

Not much interested in a tie-breaker, I have to say.

FYI – The pictures in this post were taken yesterday, just to give you a visual of the areas I’m talking about.  Sorry if they’re a bit blurry.  I wasn’t about to stick around any longer than I needed to.