Tuesday, June 26, 2012

O-P--O-S-S-U-M not Oh-F-*-C-K-A-O-P--O-S-S-U-M

My quickest route to work from my new home is heading over the river, a right at Cicott Park and following the river bottoms to Greenhill, and then finally a right on 26 into Montmorenci and onto 52W. I've noticed that while taking this way, it opens up many opportunities to see some of Gods majestic creatures...whether that be deer that jump out in front of your vehicle...snapping turtles that are not ninja-like at all...snakes that make a satisfactory crunch when you run them over. Yep...I see it all. Every once in a while I can scare the crap out of a group of snobbish bicycle riders that dominate the center of the road--well...because you know, they are the only humans who can wear spandex and NOT end up on "What Not To Wear".

However, by taking this route-- I am at the mercy of the cellular Gods to see if I will have service. So if I have any car issues or need to make an emergency call-- I'm screwed. I am always listening for the tell-tale sign of the wobbling tire...or smoke rising from my hood. Let's face it--I don't drive the nicest vehicles. I have looked and trudged through lots on a Saturday--tolerating cheesy salesmen (my Dad was one, I'm allowed to say that). But I just can't wrap my head around making those payments. My cars run, and when I'm lucky--everything works on them.

So today the Nissan and I are trucking through Greenhill--such a sleepy little town? Is it a real town? I'm not sure...all I know is they have one stop sign and I never see anyone moving outside their homes. The Nissan is blasting me with glorious cold air --see the Kevorkian mobile decided that air conditioning was a luxury I could learn to live without. Ummmm no, I'm a chubby ginger-not happening. Anyways...air going, radio cutting in and out (the antennae was ripped off at some point 5-7yrs ago-I think there is some other random metal stick shoved in its place. On a good day we can pick up Z96--or about 15 Christian channels, that seem to only come in clear.....andddd noooo I'm not taking that as a sign, so shut it.) and I feel a slight wobble in the front end.

I pull off to the side of the road into a grassy ditch area and get out to stare at my tires. I am one of those people that think my tires are flat CONSTANTLY. They always look on the edge of just deflating and leaving me stranded. So I am staring trying to convince myself that 'noooo the tires are fine Charisma--there is no way they are going to fly off your car as your going 60mph down 52W--and you will crash in a fiery heap...nope not gonna happen.'....gotta ask...am I the only one who's voice in their head is just as paranoid and neurotic as their real voice?

So I make the final decision that the tires are ok, and I go to walk back around the front of my car--and I see something out of the corner of my eye. Perched right next to my foot...enjoying some grass in the sunlight. My eyes say "awww little white kitten touching my flip flop.." butttttt my brain registers what it really is...and its a little white opossum touching my flip flop. I want to take a minute and apologize to anyone who may have had their windows open in Greenhill this morning--I am not even sure what tongues I was talking in...but it went something like "OH F*CK THATS A F*CK'N OPOSSUM-SON OF A B*TCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!" and then I screamed...and then I punted it.

Here's the deal folks...when you are going to have to kick ass and fight for your life against wild animals--you may want to wear shoes, not flip flops. My right flip flop went airborne along with the opossum, and landed in the cornfield. I am now standing next to my car, with one leg lifted and no flip flop, doing the heebie jeebie dance--and muttering something like "it touched my foot, it touched my foot" over and over. Frik....I gotta go into the cornfield and find my flip flop--and NOT the opossum. :(

I tip toe and flip--with no flop on the other side into the field --cussing the whole time--looking for my BLACK flip flop. A big F*U to the makers of the wonderful movie "Children Of The Corn" ...I swore everytime I turned my head to the left or right I was going to come across some inbred killer child with the name Zedekiah. I see my flip flop however many yards into the field--and the damn opossum laying there.

Now...anyone who has read my history with lifeless animals already knows that damn thing is not dead (see post about deer -_-). So after learning that valuable lesson, I simply pluck my flip flop up and leave that devil-rat to lay there and die. And ok ok....it was a baby. But it doesn't change the fact that they are disgusting and need  to be exterminated. I put my flip flop on and haul ass out of the field!

I am running out of the field and of course before I can slow my fat ass down I run straight out of the field and onto the road in front of a Culligan truck. I would rather have a sex tape released online then have anyone see me run in flip flops...picture a jiggling Quasimodo from Hunchback of Notre Dame. I have pretty much used up my allotment of oxygen for that little jog out of my death trap...so there I am, hyperventilating on the side of the road, kinda needing to tinkle and in front of the Culligan man.

He pulls over and ask if I need any help...the look on his face is saying 'please God do not make me let this woman in my truck'...and I try to be all cool and I say "Ohhh no, I was just checking out the front end of my car. Its cool. Thanks."..............

He starts to roll away and points behind me and says "Well whatever you were doing in the corn with that baby opossum is your business, I think they are disgusting-have a good day!!!". I look down and the damn baby opossum is sitting by my damn foot and had apparently came running after me.

I left him/her on the side of the road...I even fought the urge not to kinda swerve as I drove away. They aren't so bad after all...

...................ok....who am I kidding, I kicked that nasty ass thing again into the field and hopped into my car. P.S. ....and yes...I am sitting at my desk with one damn flip flop :(

New Rule: Keep ass-kickin shoes in the vehicles at all times.

Thursday, April 26, 2012

CAPTAINS LOG 01/26/2010 Old People Hate Me


My day started like any other...it started with the song "I Like Big Butts" blaring into my ear. My cell phone has decided that when it is charging it flips back and forth between vibrate and my ring tone...So at any time during the night I could be vibrated...or I can get jiggy wit' it.

So at approx 6:45am, the cell phone goes off and at that same time...my son--also known as Baby Huey--hurtles himself down the stairs, and is saying as he walks past my bed: "Hey--I have to be at the school at 7:30am today--ok?". Friggin awesome...

I trudge into Sophie's room--the whole time doing the "Pee Pee" dance, because Huey charged in to the bathroom before I could relieve my child-bearing bladder...Sophie is sprawled out like a crime scene victim in her bed...I flip the light on and say "Hey--Bubby has to be at school early, you need to hustle!"....she doesn’t even open her eyes... but instead she growls..."Momma...you said there would be a 2hr delay."...I advise her that I was wrong (ggrrr) and that she needs to get her scrawny ass moving...she then says "Call the school and tell them we need a delay, they will listen to you because your scary." Ok...thanks daughter...

I finally handle my business in the bathroom, and send Huey out to start the car...I am currently driving the NISSAN!--(say it like you are yelling GODZILLA!)....the NISSAN! is held together with duct tape and prayers...however...since the Kevorkian mobile decided that overdrive was just too stressful to go into, and may need a new transmission. So Huey goes out and about 5min later he comes in and says "The car won’t start."...I stare at him...its 7:21am...he repeats himself...I then say--"what did it sound like?"---side note: I have no friggin clue why I asked him this--I’m not a mechanic...but for some reason I thought I could hear his interpretation of the sounds the NISSAN! was making--and miraculously diagnosis the problem.

Huey takes his hand and acts like he is starting the car (I guess that is how he was going to be able to get into character)...and he sputters and grunts and does something like "Uuuu--uuuu--uuu". Yeh...no clue what that means. I throw him the keys to the van and tell him "ok...start the Kevorkian mobile, and lets roll out." The whole time I am in a panic, now...what did Willie tell me about the van not acting right in reverse?...We load up, and I shift it into reverse...no problems...I'm feeling like its going to be ok...So I drop off various kids to 2 different locations and head home...Willie will be home by then and can make the NISSAN! all better.

Willie comes home, and I tell him everything--he goes out and the frickin car starts...of course I'm an idiot, and damn my uterus for not allowing me to understand an engine...thank God it can find socks, lost keys and safety pins--since it doubles as a homing device for the family unit.

I leave, go to the IGA gas station--freeze my ta-tas off pumping gas...get my NECTAR OF THE GODS and head out...as soon as I get over the bridge at 55--heading towards Pine Village...a rusty old truck with an old man driving it, pulls out on front of me. I of course curse at him...but settle into a slow pace behind him and wait it out until I can pass. Welp--for anyone that drives that road--it ummm gets slick...so passing was not an option...

I follow his old ass to Pine Village, and I had already decided that today called for a donut or some kind of sugary lard based treat...he pulls in to the store when I do. I get out...he gets out... he has a cane and I feel kinda bad for all the names I called him while following him into town. We are both deciding on what treat to get, that will kill us fastest---and I go to walk up and I will be damned if he doesn’t cut in front of me...I take a step back...I mean, who am I to be mean to an old man right? I was raised right damnit...So I wait...and he counts out $0.89 in nickels and pennies to the guy behind the counter. Ok...so I may have been thinking about just kicking him for a minute--I CAN ADMIT THAT.

I leave, and since he has such a great head start on me---which even now I can’t figure out how his old ass got to his truck so fast as slippery as it was...but anyways...SURE enough--I am behind him again...heading towards West Lafayette. BIGGG SSSIIIGGHHH....

Now...this is where the story takes a turn...and I know you have all been waiting patiently for it...I get behind him and I was kinda close behind him--BECAUSE I was getting ready to pass him...and all of a sudden he slams on his brakes! I panic and slam on mine--we are now both sideways in the middle of the highway. I get out of my car, and slop thru the mush and snow to make sure our cars did not touch---and apparently he is a spry old man because he was out of his car as well.

I walk up to him and say "did an animal jump out? Are you ok?"...it’s natural for me to assume an animal jumps out--well...you all know why...anyways... he has his cane and looks at me and says "I slammed on my god-damn brakes to get you off my ass!!"....I would have loved to have seen my face...I’m sure it was one of "hey there little sweet old man..." then to "I will drop kick your ass in a minute fartknocker!"...

I look at him and say "well I am sorry—see, I have been stuck behind your truck for the last 30 minutes between Attica and West Lafayette--and I may have lost my patience and wanted to pass you." I didn’t even bring up the whole store incident...cuz you know--I’m trying not to work myself up into a lather. I say "Will you be able to get your car back on the highway properly?"...and he says "Why don’t you give me a shove with your car, since you like being on my ass.".......yeh.....

I’m not proud of what transpires after this point...I can say that now...but remember I was provoked--and anyone that knows me-- knows that if that would have been someone under the age of fricken 100 yrs old I would have gotten busy on their ass.

I walk over near him and say "Sir, there is no need to be rude...Im sorry...I will just get back in my car, and I will get ahead of you."....AND I SWEAR TO GOD...he takes his cane, and runs it across the top of his car and flings snow in my face. I am now standing there...with a wet head and smeared make up...So I look at him and say "if you f*cking fling snow at me one more time, I will throw your senile ass down and break your hip".....I know...(please pray for my soul)...he then says "when I was your age I was taught respect for my elders."....I then say...with a smile "When you were my age you were taught from cave drawings, so get your prehistoric ass in your car and we will call it a day."...I am pretty sure he muttered something about me being a "smartass bitch"...not sure--I was growling so loud I couldn’t hear well.

So---I turn around and walk away to my car...and he has now gotten his geriatric ass into the car and has the door open and looks back, just in time to see me fall and bust my ass on the concrete...I just laid there in the middle of 26, for a minute deciding how long it would take for a semi to just hit me...and I hear him cackle and cough, cackle and cough --and yells "Thank God you have a fat ass for that fall little girl!."....then he flings snow on me with his tires and leaves.

Wanna know what the f*ckin morale of this story is??? Why in this world is it ok for us to put down dogs when they get "too old"---but yet you think about euthanizing one little old man, and you’re all of a sudden Satan’s mistress?

I guess I wont be volunteering at the old folks home anytime soon...so instead I will sit here with my wet rear end...wet bra (he was surprisingly accurate when he flung that snow down my shirt)...and be glad of my youth--and my general sunny disposition--I mean there is NO WAY I will ever be a mean ass old woman...geesh...(quit laughing!)

A Glimspe Into My Normal World


I receive a text from a number that I do not know…I don’t panic much because I have recently lost quite a bit of my contacts, but instead of saying “Who is this?”—which I feel like I am asking “Do you matter in my life” whenever I am forced to ask—I instead go along with the text in hopes that it will become evident who it is. BYW—this just happened approx 30 min ago.

Text: “Did you mean what you said Sat.?”
Me: “Sure, I always mean what I say-unfortunately-lol”
Text: “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
Me: “Ummm yeh, I usually make clear decisions.”
Text: “Does your family know?”

….now…I must admit I am starting to panic a little…the number kinda looks familiar, but thanks to damn cell phones we are all lucky to even know 9-1-1.  I remember the days of having to memorize everyone in my life full phone numbers and THEN still dial it by hand on a rotary phone…

Me: “Do you think I should tell them?”
Text: “Well yeh, it’s a pretty big decision”

…ok…now this feels like a soap opera…I cant wait for the next text—to find out what big decision I am about to make in my pseudo life! Yay me!

Me: “Ok, when do you think I should tell them?”
Text: “Well they are going to know something isn’t right, come on!!!!”
Me: “Hmmmm maybe tonight?”
Text: “Ok well text me and let me know how it goes!”
Me: “Ok, I will!”….I then go about my business, thinking “well that was a nice break from reality”…

15 min later…from same number…which is a Chicago area # I now know.

Text: “I heard its painful, so maybe you will get a sympathy vote from them…lolz…anyways, text me later, I will continue my research—I still don’t know how they take that little bit of skin and make it into a penis.”


Sigh…so the moral of this story is: Don’t be afraid to ask “Who is this??”…and also apparently my new name will be Charles soon.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

I've Got Big Balls.

Wowser...I haven't blogged since Feb of 2011? I apologize my faithful stalkers and creepers...I am going to try and do better! I don't have anything specific to rant about today...just some curious thoughts that have been rolling around in my head, and trying to leap from my lips--but will settle for my fingertips.

I know I have been guilty time and time again of poor body image... after all I am a female. Duh. I try to keep my insecurities from pouring over onto my very impressionable young daughter. Sophie is the EXACT opposite of me..in fact she is everything I wanted to be when I was her age. She is long legged, clear skin, blue eyed, thin, and well..let's face it--she's nicer then I have ever been in my life. I often just watch her skip around the house in a fuzzy, pink, happy cloud of happiness. She is a pixie. I was not like that. I was short, chubby, freckled, and didnt like my life. I told her this once--trying to explain to her to never feel less then awesome--to strive not for perfection, but for peace.  She found it hilarious that I was opposite of her when I was her age. She said all she ever hears is "you look so much like your mother". That made me think of how warped our body image and what we actually see as women.

A woman will be married to a man for 20+ years and that man can probably count on one hand how many times he has seen his wife naked, up right, and in broad daylight. The man has seen her give birth, have the flu and if he is lucky enough--get a couple cocktails in her and do freaky stuff...yet...she will not allow her body to be seen by him, unless under certain circumstances.  It is no wonder men all think we look better on our backs--its all they ever see! Now here is where I crack up...a man however---will parade around completely naked, in the day light--and if you let him--in front of the window that is across the street from the church -_-. They will helicopter, wiggle and strut like we are lucky to have seen such a physique! WHERE IN THE HELL DID THEY GET THAT KIND OF CONFIDENCE??? Do you realize if we had half of that swagger and gumption -- we wouldn't have needed those "feminist rights".  I personally have to look away when it has happened to me...I am a worrier by nature--and when that thing is parading around--all I can think about is "How do they sit down?"..."Don't let the cat see it"..."They really need to make bras for the back-up dancers".  I cant imagine a time where I waltz nude, in the middle of the day, in front of a male and give him that smile that says "Yep...allllllll this is yours, now watch--I'm going to do jumping jacks and laugh while my parts jiggle."

Women need to really start thinking like a man when it comes to this topic...we need to act like we have balls.  There I said it. THAT has to be where the confidence comes from? So from now on my female friends when you are down and out, hate the image in the mirror, or you God forbid arent a Size 0 like in the magazines...get your balls out. Lord knows we have been carrying enough around of them in our purses, we might as well put them to use.

For my male readers...you keep doing your thing...we arent hatin' on ya...I wish I could be so entertained by my own body. Yes...yes I know...you guys ARE entertained by OUR bodies.  Geesh....(see ladies, no matter what--no matter the size--shape--color--or whatever your mental hang ups are--your man will ALWAYS think your body is Disneyland ;-)