Bonesy's Blahg

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 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!”


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 a 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.


June 7, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Kids, Rant | 4 Comments

How to WIN Friday the 13th in 769 words.

Sh! Everybody simmer down for a minute. I have something important to say!

Okay, not really.

But I am trying to quiet all the voices around me so that I can concentrate on the voices in my head.  Apparently, 3 days of missed meds & the resulting lack of sleep makes me a little schizophrenic.

It also makes me look a little like THIS:

I’m not saying this IS me, but I was a little sad earlier this week & wearing a purplish/blue shirt today. And I need to color my hair.

I think my trigger was the dirty apple I had for breakfast.  Okay, not a dirty apple.  I washed it.  But he did have a wicked case of blue balls & an apparent need to drop some seed.

Seriously, full frontal apples are the key to my genius!  Or just a happy coincidence for a dirty, sleep deprived mind.

But then I had to go to work…which is where the frivolity should have ended, if I had a lick of sense.

Which I do not.

And that’s how I was caught on the security cameras standing in the middle of the street shouting “HAPPY FREAKING FRIDAY!”

You can probably add that to the list of reasons they’ll eventually fire my ass.

But you know what?  IT FELT SO DAMN GOOD I DID IT A SECOND TIME!  Doubt me?  Try it.  Just don’t say I didn’t warn you they’ll eventually fire your ass for it.  Nothing like a little video proof of dumbassery.

From there, they paid me to eat breakfast.  Then make tea.  Then spill tea.  Then make more tea.  Then add extra tea bags to the new tea because I needed the caffeine & it was only 8:30.

Considering what they paid me to do all those things that I would should have done for free, I made some serious coin on a per-hour basis.  Probably.  I’m bad at math.

But it was all okay, because I found my old-ass ipod, which had a ton of music that I totally forgot I had!  So while I was fumbling away my morning in a gigantic puddle of eyecrossingly strong tea & paranoia, at least I got to jam to some great indie tunes & stuff that I’ll never admit to having on an ipod that may never see the light of day again.  And my new obsession song, which I added this morning before I ever saw the apple sac, but played over & over again like a fingerbanged teenager with a huge crush & a bad case of acne.

(“Taste” by Josh Abbott Band, in case you were wondering.)

I then let Kid4 know that Kid1 ruined my hoo-ha.  She thought that was TMI, but really, caring is sharing.  Plus, he did have a gigantic head.  There may be reconstruction surgery in my future.

Somehow, that became a text about back alley liposuction & vajazzling with an uber-conservative friend who doesn’t mind my over-sharing.

Then, 2 out of 4 children were demoted.  Temporarily, anyway.

I don’t think it had anything to do with giant heads or vajazzling or back alley lipo, but I’m not making any promises.

But I did encourage let them get into a bidding war for the title of MOM’S MOST FAVORITE CHILD after that, so I think I made good.  For the record, Kid2 won the sprint with her offer to let me come to campus & hang out in the Buckeyes football locker room!  Kid3 is looking more toward the marathon by planning out my pneumatic retirement trailer park.  He’s good, that one.  Kid1 just wants to be Kid2’s favorite sibling.  I’m not clear why he wants to hang out in the OSU locker room, though.  Curious.  Kid4 is working, so I’m still waiting on her offer.

But Kid2 & I did manage to solve every fucking world problem in existence via text message this afternoon!  I’d share with you, but we’re planning to sell our ideas to the highest bidder to help pay for my future trailer park.  Let’s just say I’m really fucking glad that placenta eating is a thing now.  And that Mt Dew plus Mentos equals ass-plosion.  But woe is the man who has to spend eternity huffing Larry the Cable Guy’s farts.

I’m not sure how we got to that either.

But then?  Then we designed Kid1’s new tramp stamp, which is sure to impress his future-mother-in-law …. or at least be easier to explain to her than his abnormal, but clearly AWESOME upbringing.

On crumpled notebook paper, for extra classiness.

May 13, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Family, Friends, Kids, People, Sleep, Work | 1 Comment

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!


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.


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.



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.

April 24, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Work | 3 Comments

100 Things

Okay, so I know I’m just a few years behind with this.  What can I say?  Someone recently told me every blogger needs a “100 Things” post.  I think its bullshit, but am caving in to peer pressure.  Here are 100 random things about me, which will probably take me roughly a week & a half to write.

1) I can’t smell.  Every great once in a while, I think I might smell something, but I have no sense of whether it’s a good or bad scent.  No, I can’t explain it any better than that.

2) Anytime I tell someone I can’t smell, the first question is always “Well, can you taste things like everyone else?”  How the hell should I know?!

3) As a kid, I was a total tomboy who hated anything girly.  When I was about 5, we moved into a neighborhood with mostly boys.  I told everyone my name was “Ricky” so I could hang out with them instead of the girls in the ‘hood.  It worked like a charm, until someone came to our door one day & asked if “Ricky” lived there.

4) When I was 10, I wanted to grow up to play shortstop for the New York Mets.   I didn’t live anywhere near New York; I just knew they needed a shortstop.

5) I met my husband while signing up for the military, just after high school.  My military “career” lasted 5 weeks.  On the way home, I got engaged in Cleveland Hopkins Airport, surrounded by a crowd of paparazzi.  Okay, they were really just nosy bastards.  Whatever.

6) I got married with one days’ notice, on a Tuesday morning…and went to work that afternoon.

7) The mayor who married us was on bereavement leave at the time, as her husband had just died.  Her secretary called to tell her our story & she came in to do the ceremony for us.  She cried.

8 ) We don’t have any wedding pictures because we lost the roll of film.

9) I never wanted kids.  Yes, my kids know this.

10) I found out I was pregnant 2 days after my wedding.  I cried, he was ecstatic; we agreed not to tell anyone until I came to terms with it.  2 hours later, he stood up and announced it over Thanksgiving dinner in front of my extended family.  I had not yet come to terms with it.  He’s lucky the courthouse was closed for the next few days.

11) That baby was born 3 weeks after my 19th birthday.

12) 3 of my 4 kids were accidents.  Yes, I do know how babies are made.

13) When Kid 2 was a baby, all she wanted to do was sleep.  She never cried, never wanted anything.  Her pediatrician said not to wake her up to feed her. Basically, babies will let you know when it’s time to eat.  So, I didn’t.  She fell off the growth charts.

14) The only reason I cook is because, if I didn’t, someone would have eventually turned me into Children’s Services.  I’m pretty sure schools frown on children with distended bellies & flies crusting around their eyes.

15) I am a terrible housekeeper.

16) I still haven’t figured out what I want to be when I grow up.

17) I’m kind of a hermit.

18) All of my closest friends live far away, which works pretty well with hermit-ism.

19) My favorite band is The Pretenders.

20) My blog pic/avatar was taken at Chrissie Hynde’s restaurant.

21) Unless I am reading or watching tv, I have music playing.  It’s an eclectic mix of a soundtrack, based on what I’m feeling at that moment.

22) I was kicked out of band in the 5th grade because I couldn’t learn to read music.

23) I love sunglasses & can’t pass a rack without trying some on.  At one point, I had 15 pair.  Currently, I have 3.  I’m not sure if it’s because I’m pickier or if I’m finally growing up.

24) I am prejudiced against smokers, despite the fact that some of the people I love the most are smokers.  No, I don’t hold this against them… except for my husband.  I only hold it against him & all other smokers.  ***But not YOU, if you’re a smoker.  Just everybody else OTHER than you!

25) I can think of only 2 occasions where I changed my mind after forming a first impression of someone.  I really do make up my mind about people as soon as I meet them.

26) Both of those exceptions are now friends of mine.

27) Despite the fact that I am atheist, all of my friends are Christian.  This is one of the things I love most about them all.

28) I have a near OCD level of spelling & grammar Nazism.

29) Because of this, I was always in the spelling bee.

30) Despite THAT, I don’t think the spelling bee belongs anywhere near ESPN… Or ANY tv channel.

31) I tend to make up my own grammar rules, which only one other person understands.  I do see that #28 & #312 technically shouldn’t work together.

32) My daughters inherited that fucked-up gene.  Which technically ISN’T a gene, but whatever.

33) I once got a job based solely on my ability to spell.

34) I’m a poll worker on Election Day.  At one point, I was the youngest presiding judge in the county.

35) One of the ladies who works my precinct with me was my 7th grade math teacher.

36) I am really bad at math.

37) She does the math at the end of the night for our precinct.  It’s like she KNOWS ME!

38) I love the iconic Rosie the Riveter ad.

39) The only coffee I like is the cheap cappuccino at gas stations.  No, I don’t like Starbucks.  No, this does not make me a bad person.  It makes me a non-coffee drinker who doesn’t like overpaying!

40) I love unsweetened tea, of almost any flavor.

41) My middle name is Janice, pronounced (Janeese).

42) It’s also my mom’s middle name, and the one I gave Kid4.

43) Despite that, I totally did not name my daughter after my mother.

44) Or myself.  It just worked with her first name.

45) Kid2 was definitely named after my aunt, though.

46) I’m really bad at card games, especially poker.

47) This is mostly because of my innate inability to strategize.

48) I find politically incorrect humor HIGH-LARIOUS!

49) I think the 80s had the best music of any generation.

50) I’m aware the only people who would agree with me on that are also children of the 80s.

51) I eat soup for lunch almost every day.  Not the same kind of soup, though.  I’m not OCD about it. (said in a snarky voice)

52) My dog is cooler than your dog.

53) Braggarts irritate me more than just about everyone else.  No, #52 doesn’t count as bragging.  That’s just fact.

54) One-uppers are a close second.  Please see #53, sentences 2 & 3.

55) I hate everything about WalMart, but mostly the people.

56) I’m a road rager.

57) Sometimes this gets me in trouble.  I’ll probably end up with a violent death, started by an expletive-laden rant & middle finger extended out my window.

58) I have nearly died a horrific death by train twice.  Both times with the same person, though only once was alcohol involved.  Between #57 & #58, I am more sure than ever that my death will not be pretty.

59) When I was a kid, my parents would send all of us to live at an aunt’s house for the summer.

60) That aunt & uncle are my role models for marriage & parenthood.

61) It’s not a surprise we were sent away.  According to our genealogy, my family has been “farming children out” since 1856.

62) General George Armstrong Custer is my great-great-great-great-great uncle.

63) At one point, Kid1 had a history class with a descendant of Sitting Bull.

64) I could not possibly care less about what politicians do behind closed doors.

65) I also don’t give a damn about celebrities & don’t consider them to be newsworthy.

66) I am afraid of heights.

67) I have an aversion to water.

68) Because of those 2 things, I hate bridges.

69) I watch way too much tv.

70) I don’t believe in women’s rights or black rights or gay rights.  I believe in equal rights & that nothing else is acceptable.

71) I’m a fiercely loyal friend.

72) I don’t eat meat with bones in it.  Yes, I am aware that all meat had bones in it at one point.

73) My favorite childhood memory is “Eat a Pita.”  Someday, I might tell y’all what that means.

74) Patience is a virtue, but it’s not one of mine.

75) I say that because I am 3 days into this list & it’s frustrating me.

76) Right about now, I’m wishing I hadn’t caved in to peer pressure.

77) My kids think I’m a techno-tard, but I’m basically my department’s IT person.

78) I’m sure Kid1 finds that hysterical, seeing as how he IS an IT person & I am clearly not.

79) Right now, I have no pictures of my family on my desk.

80) I do have a pic of myself with my besties on my desk, though.

81) When my hair is long, I want it short.  When my hair is short, I want it long. My husband NEVER wants it short.

82) I look much better with long hair.

83) I am pretty sure that I am pregnant on at least one roll of film in my refrigerator.

84) My “baby” is 16.

85) My first concert was Duran Duran with Billy Ocean and Brenda Russell.

86) When Kid2 graduated, I was at commencement sporting a gigantic purple egg on my forehead.

87) The egg came from hitting my head on the sidewalk during our Throwdown at the Hoedown the day before.

88) My forehead still has a corner on it from that throwdown 2 years ago.

89) I still owe you a post on that.

90) Day 4.  I’m growing steadily weaker; concerned I may not see the end of this post.

91) I don’t trust whistlers, even the ones that just whistle songs.

92) My favorite car is a Porsche 914.

93) I’ve owned 3 of them, but only drove 1.

94) I think there is something wrong with the people who listen to ONLY Christmas music during the holidays.

95) Especially if they have it loud.  Some music has to be thumping to be appreciated.  “O Christmas Tree” is not one of those songs.  If it’s rattling MY windows, you & I are going to have a problem.  Mostly you.  See #56.

96) I really dislike Christmas music.  This has nothing to do with my religious beliefs.

97) I once read an entire newspaper article backward before realizing I did it.  I tend to read the headlines, then check the end of the article for the details.

98) A friend once told me that I’m just drawn to silliness.  I love that!

99) Day 6.  Please send reinforcements.

100) I am now convinced that the person who told me “Every blogger needs a 100 Things post” is a sadistic bitch.  Yeah.  You know who you are.

March 8, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Friends, Kids, Sleep | 8 Comments


Today, guys everywhere are doing super cool stuff – hanging out, bullshitting with their buddies, & drinking their way up to & through the big game. Lucky bastards.

I should also be doing those things!

Not because I’m a guy (I have the stretch marks, prolapsed uterus, & the 4-baby-sag to prove it)… but because I maybe SHOULD have been a born a guy.

At any given moment, I would much rather be doing “guy” stuff than “girl” stuff. Well, except for that pesky all of the work during sex thing . I’m not an idiot! I know how good we girls have it there.

My point is, instead of celebrating the last day of football season like a good tomboy should… I have spent my day chained to the laptop. I’ve used words like “cute” and “vintage,” along with silly phrases like “my colors” and “cake tasting.”


I said “yes.”

Yes, I’m already married. But the first time we got hitched, it was kind of on a whim. Well, maybe not a whim. But it had certainly all happened fast enough to leave me in a semi-retarded fog.

We met at the end of August while signing up for the military. By the end of November, I had left for (and returned from) boot camp, fallen in love, gotten engaged…and now had to plan a wedding. But the thing is, I didn’t know anything about that crap!. I had just turned 18 & had really never given much thought to marriage!

And I was certainly not one of those little girls who grew up dreaming of a princess wedding.

So while we considered a big ol’ extended family hoopla, we ultimately decided we wanted to do it before he left for boot camp. So, we worked the phone lines until we found someone willing to do the deed without forcing us to sit through classes that we didn’t have the time or inclination to take.

That person was the mayor of a neighboring town who happened to be on bereavement leave. Despite the fact that her husband had just died, she agreed to come into work long enough to marry us that morning 25 years ago.

There were 3 witnesses.

We went to work later that day.

It’s a crazy story, but it’s all true. I LOVE that we did everything so completely off base from what everyone else we know did in their wedding. We did it cheaper… and OURS WORKED, BITCHES!

But this time, we want to do it “right,” whatever that means. We want to be sure we get the opportunity to celebrate our love with all of those we love the most. That’s the most important part of it all for us

It’s still going to be unconventional. It’s still going to be fun. But in the end, it’s still going to be US, with hopefully way more of YOU.  And then I’ll pay some bartenders to get you drunk before I make my grand appearance… in a dress. This way, your memories will be foggy when you think back to it the next day. This is called “WEDDING PLANNING” & it’s apparently a skill I am damn good at!

February 7, 2016 Posted by | Confession, Family, Friends, Love, Marriage | , | Leave a comment

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.**

December 12, 2015 Posted by | Advice, Family, Kids, People, Work | 6 Comments

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.


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.


….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.

November 15, 2015 Posted by | Confession, People, Work | Leave a comment

Corruption…One Generation At A Time

Several months ago, I wrote a post about election day. It was mostly about how I lost my NC-17 notebook in the senior center that houses our precinct…and some creeper janitor found it & had a little “alone time” at my expense.

Technically, the book was a trade show give-away, so there was no expense. But also? I may have been directly responsible for corrupting our greatest generation!

Last week, I may have done worse.

I don’t know how elections are held in your neck of the woods. But in mine, the Board of Elections gathers up all the old people in town & makes them feel useful again. They’re given minimum wage jobs with exciting titles like “Judge” & they get to lord over the masses from uncomfortable chairs at folding tables.

It’s a win/win.

Until they can’t find enough coherent old people to fill the positions.

That’s when they bring in the reinforcements… Dumb ass middle-age people who feel a sense of civic responsibility & teenagers who want a day off school & are bad at math.

I’m a mix. I’m a dumb-ass middle aged woman with the mentality of a teenager AND bad at math. So they gave me the uber-cool title of PRESIDING JUDGE!


I’m like the Queen of Judges, but without the ring kissing and curtsies.

At least so far. I’m working on it.

Note to self: Buy a ring.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure after the notebook debacle, the BOE decided they didn’t want me to corrupt any more senior citizens.

So they moved us to a community center.  I’m not sure a place why they thought I’d be more kid-friendly than elderly-friendly, but that’s not my call.

Also, they also added “assholes” & “crazycakes” to the mix of poll workers….and then gifted them to me.  It’s kind of like a Gift of Protocol that they give to foreign dignitaries, but I don’t have to report it to anyone.  Probably.  

Do you know what happens when they mix the Queen of Judges with assholes & crazycakes…and THEN they throw a teenager into the mix?

Texts & comments that could probably get me arrested.

OR make me a superhero in certain southern states! One of those things.

But…I got paid to do it. So… WORTHSIES!

Unless the authorities come knocking.

In that case, I may need you to start a Bonesy’s Bail Fund.

If you don’t hear from me for a while, have a bake sale or something. Thanks.

It all started when Crazycakes Judge 3 put her book on the table next to Judge 4’s book (the decidedly NON crazycakes teenager, who also happens to be good at math & really funny):

Crazycakes was reading an Amish teenage love story. Judge 4? Not so much.

Unless they do it politically in Amish country. Who’s to say? I try not to take pictures when I’m  peeping in their windows driving through, seeing as how I’ll steal their soul.

I have enough souls for now, thanks.

Also, I don’t care which way you do it… or who you do it with.

But if you read Amish teenage love stories? I’m pretty sure you haven’t done it with a real person in a VERY, VERY long time. Try putting down the book & getting out more.

Just a suggestion. I mean, knowing you’re not getting any makes comments like these especially creepy:

– He’s the one that delivered both my kids. He was drunk all the time.

– There were like 6 of us in a hotel room in Columbus.

– I could feel some going down my right thigh.

– She likes to lick lick lick.

– Well they are daisy chained together.

– I got soo hot!

– If I eat a Mexican….

– Well I usually like women better.

– I like to be on top.

– My crack was THIS wide!

– My mommy has hair on her privates.

– What did I stick in my bra that one time?…..

– What happens to the mother’s nipples?

– If you’re under her belly, you’ll feel her nipples.

So, despite the fact that she had NO idea why… she cracked us up!

Which just left her completely baffled.

I think I’ll keep her.

Judge 2, on the other hand…

The day started off pretty well. He was like an eager little beaver, all about helping set up the machines & feeling important.

I thought I got lucky!

And then I administered the oath, which is apparently also a magic spell that causes assholic behavior.

He played it off as joking… but he managed to offend even me.


He had a rude-ass comment or stereotypical accent for just about every single demographic.


Everyone who is not a Republican.


Black albinos.


Illegal immigrants.


Indians who own party stores.


People who eat sauerkraut, but not the super-sour kind.


Anyone who goes to a Mexican restaurant, but can’t pronounce the dishes correctly.

Anyone who speaks Spanish.

Anyone who speaks Spanish in the dirty Mexican dialect.



Yella-eyed men.

Anyone who can’t pronounce their R’s.



Anyone else who doesn’t follow his religion, which he was suspiciously ambiguous about.

Gays. (Though I admit I goaded him into it, just because it was so damn easy & I knew I could get him on a roll.)


Cross Dressers.

Men who aren’t cross-dressers, but can appreciate a good pair of shoes.

Women who don’t dress like men, but wear sensible shoes.

Dog owners.

Anyone who doesn’t have a cat.

I’m pretty sure the only people who didn’t get insulted were midgets & pretty people.

It was like an idiot party & I got to be the party planner!

What’s more fun than that?!

Lots of things, in all honesty.

But once the “cat” subject was broached, the crazy train rolled right the fuck over me.

Crazycakes baits her cat into showering with her. 

Which means we’ll never be able to look at a shower again without picturing a sad, tortured pussy crying out for help.

Have fun at college next year, Judge 4!  It won’t be the same without you.

March 13, 2012 Posted by | Confession, Friends, Kids, People, Work | | 2 Comments

Dreaming…of more than jelly & peanuts.

Over the weekend, I sent out a kick-ass resume & cover letter to what could possibly be my dream job.

By “dream job,” I really just mean one with a fresh set of surroundings that lets me out of the office once in a while.  And pays a little more than what I currently make, while at least matching the bennies & vacation time.

What?  I told you it was a dream job.

Actually, I’ve sent out several resumes over the past couple of weeks.  But this time?  I actually want the job, not just to escape from my current one.

I won’t tell you what the wanted job is just yet, but that letter would have been received today.

In my head, I totally pictured them opening it up, awed by my expensive stationery & wordsmithing…and immediately calling me up, demanding I come in right away for an interview.

Of course, they’d then offer me the job.

I’d play coy & not jump at it, negotiating my way to a higher salary or better perks.

In the end, I’d accept & we’d all live happily ever after… with me finally in a position that offers a little more creativity and a little less “chained to my desk, looking at the same faces every goddamn day.”

In reality, though?  The job market sucks & people way more talented, qualified, educated, & desperate than I are also looking for work.

As I pore over the listings, I’ve found a disturbing trend.   Because there is nothing like a job search to open your eyes to what the economy is really like!

The jobs that I’m more than qualified for… are now requiring college degrees.   And pay hourly rates in the SINGLE DIGITS!

A couple weeks ago, I found a post looking for people to work in the complaint department at a jelly factory.  You could possibly work your way up to customer service, but had to have a Bachelor’s Degree to start.

(First of all, who the fuck complains about jelly?!)

A job I saw today required an Associates Degree, but started at $9/hr.  Oh, but they’ll give you $11/hr if you have that degree and at least 2 years’ experience in the field!

I don’t care where you live, $9/hr is NOT a living wage!  But there are so many really desperate people out there that that company will find someone to take it…despite the degree that they invested so much money and time into.  So they’re willing to work for peanuts just to keep food on the table & their names off the welfare rolls.

In a lot of ways, I’m glad I didn’t go to college.

– Not going introduced me to my husband, leading to 4 great kids (who are all going or have gone to college & will hopefully never have to listen to old ladies bitch about  jelly!).

– I don’t have student loans to repay (while trying to find work at jobs that start at $9 AN HOUR!)

But honestly, I really just have never figured out what I wanted to be when I grow up.   I assumed I would eventually stumble upon something that I loved.  That hasn’t happened, and I envy the people who can honestly say they love what they do.

So, I’ll keep looking to find the love.  But I’m still waiting for that phone call, dream job!

January 31, 2012 Posted by | Family, Friends, Kids, People, Rant, Work | | 2 Comments

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.


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 .  There you’ll find a listing of the various ways to help the Joplin, MO recovery.

They’d do it for you.

June 7, 2011 Posted by | Family, Friends, Kids, People, Travel | 4 Comments

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