But,seriously.

Boo!

Yeah, so I think my brother summed my last post up nicely in the comments.  I will note however, I said it was a nice day, I didn't say it was an exciting day. So. Bite me, Charlie.

Anywho.  A few days ago, I was visiting one of my favorite blogs , and she was tellin ghost stories.  Since I am the very worst kind of idea stealing thief, I am going to follow her lead. I hope she can forgive me, in light of the fact that my last entry sucked eggs.  Also, go read her if you don't already, because she is a fucking HOOT.

Story one:  I was moving into a new house (new to me, in reality the house was at least 70 years old) and was in the kitchen cleaning. Yes, I was cleaning before i moved in. You might take this to mean that I am a clean freak. You would be wrong.  Freak, yes. Clean freak, not so much.  ANYWAY.

In the kitchen there was a door that opened to a set of stairs leading to the attic.  I was wiping down the counters when I heard someone walking down those stairs. Which? Not so odd if I hadn't been the ONLY PERSON IN THE HOUSE. 
   I whipped around and watched the doorway, all the while listening to SOMEONE walk slowly (and heavily) down those stairs.  I had the door open, so of course what is going through my mind is that the ax murderer who was hiding in the attic isn't even going to have to go to the trouble of turning a doorknob to kill me where I stand. 
   Because, yes, I just stood there, not moving, while listening to those steps. Because? I am an idiot with no survival skills.

   Now from my vantage point I can see the last few steps and I'm watchin HARD. Then, the steps just...stopped. At the bottom. Only, no one was there. Freaked me right the hell out. 

  Yes, I still moved in. Yes, in the time I lived there I saw a few things I couldn't swear weren't corporeal. Yes, I have an active imagination but it isn't THAT good. 

  Ok, so next thing:  I used to work in a grooming shop in a shopping center that was on property that had been farmland in the not too distant past.  When I started working there my co-workers would tell me spooky shit about how the farmer that used to own the place still hung around, despite the fact that he no longer held the deed to the place and also despite the fact that he was dead.
   I figured they were fuckin with the new girl's mind. Which is pretty easy to do. (quick sidenote to show y'all how naive I can be: My husband told me that the word gullible wasn't in the dictionary.  I actually got the damned dictionary out to prove it was before he started laughing his ass off. Bastard)

Then!  Ok, we had ribbons for bows hanging on a spindle for ease of use. There was no air ducts or fans or anything that could otherwise cause all (about 25) the spools of ribbon to start fluttering straight out into the air at the same time. I wish I could paint a better picture of it for y'all, but trust me, it was WEIRD.
  Also, during my time there, on a regular basis I would be working and feel a tug on my smock and hear someone whisper my name in my ear. I would whip around to see who had done it and of course my co-workers were 15 feet away, with dogs on their tables and clippers running in hand.  And no one else around.    Patsy (whom I met while working this job) probably also has some goodies she could tell you from this time.

   These are not the only spooky experiences I've had, but they're the ones that stand out.  Suffice it to say, I'm a believer.  What about y'all?

A Good Day

First off, am I the only one who waits to title a post until after it's done? I usually only have a vague idea of what I'm going to write before I start and never have a title first.  If it just me, it's okay, I'm used to being the rebel, the outsider, the cool one. HA.

  We went to get our taxes done today. Yes, much excitement. Not. But it was relatively painless and we stopped for excellent Mexican food afterwards.

Then, we stopped to see a client (and sort of friend) at her new place of business in a very picturesque little town by the name of Jefferson, Texas. She is a lovely person and gave my daughter a new leather coat that she (my daughter) was admiring because I take such good care of her (the client's) little dog.  My question is, WHY DIDN'T I GET THE NEW COAT?? 

We left there and took a tour of the historic district of this little town (and when I say 'tour' I mean we walked until we got tired and then we came home), and had the best time. We stopped at a place called Beauty and the Book ( a book store and beauty salon occupying different halves of a great old house) and meandered through the book store half. This place has obviously been there forever and the fella that owned it has led quite a life. His memoribilia was all over the place, including his certificate for getting his pilot's license after he was 80 years old.

By the time we were leaving, I'd seen probably a hundred pictures of the man (including his wedding and 60th anniversary photos), and I recognized him immediately when he was coming in as we were going out. I told him how much we'd enjoyed his store and how impressed we were with how accomplished he was. He blushed and thanked me and we all had a nice little conversation while the baby turned feral and had to be forcibly removed from the establishment.

Oh, by the way, his mode of transportation? A bicycle. Y'all, I'm only in my thirties, and if you see me riding a bike down the street, you should call 911 because I am being chased by something. You can bet on it.

And now we're home, only not really because we still have to go out and get a white shirt for Sis to wear in a parade tomorrow.  After that, dinner, a movie and bed!   Will the excitement never end?

  So, that was my day.  How was yours?

Oh, my!

I was just watching Jay Leno. Among his guests were Rosanne Barr (it is Barr again, isn't it?), and the Sex Talk lady from Oxygen, Sue Johanneson.  Y'all ever watch of her show?  She's blunt, yo.  I don't understand how popular she is since she makes most people feel like they're watching their dear old granny talk about dildos and masturbation.

  And they were talking about such things on Leno's show tonight. Let me tell y'all how bad it was, Rosanne was visibly shocked and uncomfortable.  It's easy to shock me with septugenerians talking about  gettin the hoo-hoo, but this is Rosanne!  Don't get me wrong, I like her. Hell, I admire her. But I'm under no delusion that's she's particularly, um, inexperienced.  I mean weren't she and Tom Arnold gonna marry another chick at some point (Yes, I know it was likely a publicity ploy, but to even have the cajones to make people believe you would do it, well, pretty impressive!)

Oh, and I'd like to debunk the myth (if in fact such a myth exists) that black people can't blush. Good old Sue said that Jay Leno's band Director Kevin Eubanks was, and I quote "Masturbating behind his guitar right now".  Yeah. He blushed.  Poor Guy.  Gettin sexually harrassed my Grandma Walton.

So, come on, fess up. Who watches this deranged old bat respected medical professional give out sex advice? 

I'm so excited!

Don't worry, it's not a new Davd Hasselhoff video (y'all know you loved that shit!).

Guess what I'm doin'! Go ahead!  Guess!  WRONG! Perverts.

I'm coming to you courtesy of my BRAND! NEW! laptop!  Which is only about THREE FEET from my perfectly good desktop!  Yeah, I know, conspicuous consumerism gone wild, baby.

Why do I have this laptop?   Because my wonderful son got it for me, for my birthday.  I heart him.

I do intend to use it in places other than at the kitchen table, but I have to wait for it to finish charging up. In the meantime, I'm playing with my new toy, even if my old toy (whom I still love mightily!) is only inches away.

In other news: We had a very good time at the dinner the other evening. The company was good, the chicken was dry and the congressmen were verbose. Plus, we got to dress up and act like grown-ups.

I still don't know if we won the Groomers of the year award, as my boss' Dad was ill that evening, and my boss couldn't attend. He's going to 'make some phone calls'.  Of course, if we did win, they prolly threw the plaque in the dumpster out back since we (my boss) were too rude to attend or tender our regrets after RSVP'ing.  ANYWAY.

  Oh, thanks ever so for the birthday well wishes from those who sent them here or called. Us old ladies appreciate it when others remember us. 

I have something to say

  This afternoon, my husband received a call at work from a co-worker. This guy found 7 puppies in the middle of the road.  The puppies were all healthy and fat.  It's highly unlikely that the puppies just materialized in the middle of the road.  It would also be a stretch to theorize that the mother dog left her puppies there.

  No. Someone took them there and then left them.

You might be inclined to say that the person who did this is a monster. It's certainly the easy answer. In fact, I believe the first thing I said after hearing this was "What kind of monster does this kind of thing?"

  But, the thing is, I have 3 of those puppies here with me now (the co-worker had managed to find homes for 4 of them), and they have not been mistreated.  These are happy, fat puppies who love people.  They seek people out for love and play.  These puppies have had positive interaction with humans. They've had love.  They've had food. I wouldn't even say they'd been raised outside, as they're about the best mannered 6 week old pups I've ever come across.

So, if they were loved (and they were. I've spent my entire adult life studying and working with dogs and I know them. These puppies have experienced affection and a lot of it.), then how did they come to be sitting in the road, alone?

Someone (our monster) became overwhelmed and didn't know what to do with 7 puppies. They likely briefly considered all the humane options and decided that it was simply too much trouble.  They reasoned that by placing them in the path of other humans, the puppies would most likely be picked up and cared for. And they were. 

I wonder if they knew how close to a miracle it is that none of the puppies was run over.  Or eaten by something larger (they were found on a country road and we have lots of predators larger than puppies in these parts).   Do they know how bad (and short) these puppies' lives might have been?

  How do you love something for 6 weeks and then leave it in the road?

  Maybe our monster isn't a monster, but it's certainly not quite human.

  I apologize for the lack of anything resembling funny in this post. I hope to be back with funny soon.

  Oh! I have an idea!  Tomorrow is my birthday.  I'll be very old. Everyone knows the elderly are easily amused. So, for my birthday, I think it would be lovely if I got jokes from you all.  It'll brighten my day, and the day of those who read here.   So, if you're of a mind to, please leave a joke (short, long, clean, dirty...just send em!) in the comments section tomorrow.  I might even think of a prize for the best joke! 

   Before I go (and at the risk of channeling Bob Barker) please get your pets spayed or neutered!

      

I'm Hooked On a Feeling

   OMG!  I think I'm in love !    There is much swooning going on here, people.   Oh, if you don't watch the whole thing, not only will you miss some really hilarious shit, you're a total bitch.

   Moving on, (seriously, y'all go watch it ), I have seen evidence that not only am I not the laziest bitch in the world, I'm not even close .   Y'all, I am lazy. Really. Ask anyone! (anyone better not damned well answer)   But even I can find the time and energy to slap PB & J on some bread and call it a sammich.
    I also heard about these , which aren't just a whole lot better. 

  People, if you are too lazy to slap some peanut butter and jelly on some bread for your kids, SEE A DOCTOR.  You need help.  Or a cook.  ( I speak, of course, not to my readers, because y'all are all lovely people and exemplary parents.)

   In other (and much important) news, y'all keep my baby cousin Jo and her Mama in your thoughts. 

I feel better now!

     First, let's all bow our heads and pray to GOD IN HEAVEN ABOVE that my family can make it through one post without turning it into something dirty.  I'm doubtful, as I've known every one of the nasty bastards for years, and they're ALWAYS like this.  As a matter of fact, this shit has been pretty tame. So, anyway, we can hope.  (Do you like how I pretend I didn't contribute to the dirtiness? Pretty cool, huh?)

     An update from a previous post , I will not be finding out who won Groomer of the Year until Friday evening, so I'll let y'all know then.  Hopefully, I'll also have some zany, madcap stories from dinner with the Congresspeople.  Yeah. Probably not.  But!  Maybe I'll have a story about falling asleep in my Jello(tm)!

     Now for a totally random list of unrelated observations (I know, exciting, ain't it?):

1)  You people, and you know who you are, who actually eat McRibs. Y'all. That's just nasty. Seriously.  Do you see how they take the pseudo meat and put it a little press or something to make it look like actual ribs, with BONES and everything?   I cannot adequately express my feelings for this  sandwich except to say that my husband? Who loves them?  Does not eat them anymore. Unless he is by himself.  And he doesn't come home to me with McRib breath. Because I would yark all over him if he did.

2) I recently attempted to read a book. Ok, I successfully read several books, but I refer to only one book here. I didn't mean to imply that I am incapable of reading a book, only that this book was so bad that I could not do it.  I AM NOT ILLITERATE. Much. 
     I would do an in-depth book review here (which would pretty much ensure that my family would run screaming. Ha. Kidding!) but suffice it to say that a black author can write about black people and be just as condescending and insulting as any white author.   

3) Neil Diamond was on Oprah recently. He is Hott. He is Elderly Hott. Like Sean Connery.  Nummy.

4) Yes, I watch Oprah. I know none of the cool kids admit to it. I don't care. She even has a coveted place on my TiVo.

5) Yes, I am feeling better, thanks everyone for caring!  This is cold and flu season, though, so you may be subjected to more whining from me sooner than you'd think. 

Bah, humblog

   Y'all, I got nothin'.  Ok, I don't got nothin'. I got stuff, just not creative or funny stuff. It's a bitch, being an uninspired genius. SHUT UP.

   So, until I get independently inspired, I give you this:

  5 movies I can watch again and again:

1) Sleepless in Seattle  (Tom & Meg!)

2) You've Got Mail    (Tom and Meg again! Because I am a sap!)

3) Men in Black     (Because Will Smith really does make that look good. And the cockroach, he is scary, no?))

4) Nobody's Fool   (Paul Newman, Jessica Tandy, Bruce Willis, Melanie Griffith's boobs, need I say more?)

5) Yours, Mine and Ours (the original, with Henry Fonda and Lucille Ball. NOT the new one.)

   5 Authors I would like to make out with:

1) Jennifer Crusie

2) Mary Janice Davidson

3) Jennifer Greene

4) Susan Elizabeth Phillips

5) Mark Twain  (One of these things is not like the others, one of these things just doesn't belong)

   

     How about y'all?  Movies? Authors? Music?   

  It's time you people pulled your weight around here.

  Ok, I'm going to bed now. Did I mention I'm sick?

Surreality & Me

   First the good news y'all: Our grooming shop has been nominated for a 'Groomers of the year' award.  No, this is not an award given by our employer to make us think (falsely) that we're valuable to the company. Never that. Hah. Where was I? Oh,yeah.

  This award is being given by a little local magazine, which doesn't sound all that impressive until you realize that everyone in town glances through the thing.  This is an honor. Not quite a Nobel Peace Prize, but since I'm rarely peaceful, hardly noble, and most certainly not a prize, I'll take what I can get.

   Now for the surreal part: I cannot attend the awards ceremony as I have a previous obligation to attend dinner with my husband and our Congressman at the country club. 

   Now, there are couple of things wrong with that sentence. One:  my datebook is rarely, well, booked. I usually spend my evenings with TiVo and the kids, chugging coffee like a fratboy at a kegger.  People. I have no life. Seriously. It's a big time on the old town tonight if Pookie and I get a dinner out alone together once a month.  See, hubby works in the evenings and I work days so that Short Round always has one of us with him and he doesn't have to go to daycare. When we are off at the same time, we spend time with our children, together. So,although the man would take me dancing every night if I  asked, it's just not possible.

   Consequently, we do not go to 'events' or 'affairs'; we're lucky if we make it to 'the grocery store' or 'the post office' in any given week.  Have I laid the groundwork for how very much of a life I don't have? So having two rather signifigant social opportunities in the same year evening is really fucking surreal a bit weird. 

   Now we can move on the second thing wrong with the above sentence.

   Let's recall: I cannot attend the awards ceremony as I have a previous obligation to attend dinner with my husband and our Congressman at the country club.

   Congressman. Country club.   

   Y'all.

   Country club?  Yeah,I knew we had one but I have no idea where it is. Never been in a country club in my life.  Don't know anyone who hangs at the CC. 

  Congressman? Yeah, I knew we had one but I have no idea who he is.  Just kidding! Ha. Had ya fooled, didn't I? Of course, I know who my Congressman is.  Sheesh. You guys.

  My point?  I do not have dinner with Congressmen at country clubs.  Evah.

I have had dinner with bikers at a family reunion, though. It's probably exactly the same. Right?

   One last thing, Internet.  Should I bring a casserole or a dessert?

   

R-E-S-P-E-C..hey,where's everyone going?

          To all of you were positively panting to know how the visit from the Big Bosses went, I say "C'mon. Seriously?  One comment so far? I mean, I can't be the only one who thinks their boss is kind of a dingleberry.  I can't be the only one who was ever talked to this way by a boss. I know I can't be the only one whom this would piss off.                

    

Marshatm : Thanks for the lovely suggestion in the comments section of my last post. I shall keep your idea in mind. I was going to share my quitting fantasy ( we all fantasize about how we'd quit our jobs. Don't deny it,y'all) but it sort of involves smacking someone. Not any one person specifically, but I assure y'all, someone will be getting smacked. Let's leave it at that, since it's the the least disturbing part of my quitting fantasy.

    The visit went just fine. I enjoyed it perhaps a bit more than is strictly proper when the salon was made such a fuss over. A good fuss.  So. Yay us. 

                                  .....................................

  And now for something completely different:  My son is in California now. He's 18, away from home, knows no one, and is broke while waiting for his paycheck.  So, we're gonna send him a little money and he calls often and I talk as long as he wants to.                               
    He's got it pretty good, huh? He may not think so right now, but there'll be friendships made (some likely to be lifelong friendships) and money made and experience and happiness hard earned. 
    So, I'm learning to be ok with him being so far away. Because he still needs us, if only for cash and conversation. And I need him to need me. So it's all good.

   Wanna write a letter to a soldier? I think you'd like it.  Go here  or here and sign up. I'm gonna. It's what all the cool kids are doing.