Oh no she didn't...

When I called my mother last night she read me every single movie on her Netflix instant watch queue. There had to be over 100 movies. I wanted to strangle myself.

It's sort of like when she goes online to noaa.gov from 500 miles away to tell me what my weather is like. Umm....yeah, I can look out the fucking window...

Chick out...*sigh*

Talk the talk, walk the walk, and stalk the stalk

I haven’t posted in a couple weeks. Talullah’s father has been in the hospital and I haven’t been in the mood to write anything. Of course, his hospital stay did result in a hilarious story. We just can’t escape hilarity even when illness drags us down!!

Let me give you a bit of back story….

When we were in college Talullah had a huge crush on a guy in one of her classes. I’ll call him John Mann. When were in college she talked about him all the time….John Mann did this…John Mann said this…John Mann shit and it didn’t stink…that kind of thing. She was definitely smitten.

So back to present day..

Talullah was sitting in her father’s hospital room when his doctor walked in. His doctor was none other than…*drum roll*… John Mann!!!! Talullah’s heart fluttered and her girlie parts started to moan!! John Mann…man of her dreams, circa 1990…was face to face with her…now…today…a medical doctor!! What do you think she did????

Well she said something like “Well if it’s not John Mann!!” She then rattled off a list of 20 year old facts to him that forever etched her in his brain as a fucking stalker.

We were in this class together.
You sat here and I sat there.
Remember when you wore the red shirt?
You smelled so good.

Then she ran over and licked him. Okay…that’s a lie but I’ll bet in her mind she licked him!!!

She said that during her diatribe she realized that she sounded stalkerish so she started throwing out names of his friends so she wouldn’t seem so weird. Yeah that made things better. I informed her that when she did that it made it look like she stalked not only him but his friends as well.

So what came of the reunion? Well I think she went to a costume shop and rented a nurse’s costume so she could follow him around for the remainder of the day without being detected. She stuck out like a sore thumb though because nurses don’t wear the uniforms anymore and even if they did they’ve never worn garter belts and fishnet stockings with them. I guess she should have specified that she didn’t want the naughty nurse costume.

Nah, actually she didn’t see him anymore after he left the room. Honestly, I think she freaked him out and he tried to avoid her after that. Who could blame him. She talked the talk, walked the walk, and stalked the stalk. That would scare the shit out of any man I know…

Chick out…

Sometimes I amaze myself...

My friends are always making fun of words and phrases that I make up and use. Whoda thunk one would come to me in a dream?? Amazing!!!

I won’t go into the entire dream but here is the important part. We were on a field trip for work. Our 60 year old PhD scientist busted one of the guys for getting a blow job while on the trip. He referred to him as the “blow Joe culprit”.

Blow Joe Culprit!! I love it and I’m gonna use that phrase for a long, long time. Who knew I was a genius of nasty vernacular…even in my dreams??? Sometimes I amaze myself.

I'm not sure what the hell is going on in my crazy, sleeping brain this week but I'm enjoying it.

Chick out…

Huh???

Last night I dreamed that I washed my face...with a piece of ham!!! What the hell is wrong with me???

Chick out...oink oink...

The Idiot Dreams of her Future Life

The other day I saw someone driving a Jaguar and it jogged my memory to what I thought my present life would be like when I envisioned it about 20 years ago.

The year was 1990. I was a goofball trying to find my way through college. Originally, I had decided that if I had to go to college I would only get a 2 year degree. I opted for a data processing program at a local community college. I can tell you this much about data processing…it was boring and I hated it and to this day I still have no idea what data processors actually do.

After a year of that nonsense, I went ahead and switched to science because I decided I wanted to be a physical therapist. The same idiot that hated school so badly that she only wanted to go to college for 2 years decided she wanted to go for 7 more. I was a stupid asshole but woowee zowee…I was going to be rolling in the moolah and that’s all that mattered!!!! My dream car was a Jaguar. Oh wait…I can take it one step cheesier…it was going to have vanity plates….”JAGGED”. Dear Jesus! How ridiculous but I thought it was killer awesome!!! Just like big hair, stirrup pants, and Milli Vanilli….KILLER AWESOME!!!

There was one drawback to the whole physical therapist thing. Did you know that physical therapists have to touch people??? Shit!! I never thought of that until I actually spent time observing a physical therapist, which was a requirement for applying to a physical therapy school…thank God!! Massaging and rubbing on strangers. Forget all the schooling!!! I could have been a high class hooker and made a shitload more money. Problem was that I figured my parents wouldn’t approve. Prudes!!

Okay so I didn’t want to rub people for money. What could I do??? Fuck if I knew! I was completely and totally lost.

Here is what I decided to do. I wouldn’t tell anyone that I didn’t want to be a physical therapist, I would go ahead and transfer to a four-year university school, and I would enter a pre-physical therapy program to prepare academically for entering physical therapy school.

Makes sense right??? Made a hell of a lot of sense to me. At that point in my life I was pretty much equivalent to a demented circus monkey.

To be continued….

Chick out…

Summa Time Haiku

My friend Leilani loves the haiku. In honor of her I've penned a few about this wretched, hot-ass weather we've been enduring.

The sun is boiling

The car seat burns my fat ass

My soul screams and melts

**

The sun bites my ass

Mother Nature is a bitch

I kick her ass...POW

**

I drown in sunscreen

Freckles pop out all over

I'm pale as a corpse

**

Yum, watermelon

Get in my big mouth right now

Makes me pee pee lots

**

Custard from Rita's

Sun so hot it melts too fast

Oops drips on my boobs

Chick out...

Mind of a Mad Woman

You think I have an overactive imagination? A recent news story brought to mind a fantasy my friend Talullah once had. I like to say that she has the mind of a mad woman. Saying she's crazy is really just downright rude.

I'm sure you've heard the recent news about Mel Gibson* slapping around his girlfriend...the mother of his 47th child? Okay maybe he doens't have 47 children but he's got a shitload of spawn. I can only hope none of them turn out like him.

My how the mighty have fallen. It's hard to believe that the anti-semetic, abusive, whack job ever made the panties of so many females quiver. He did though. I don't know a single woman that didn't melt for him about a decade ago.

Talullah was crazy about him. I once asked if she could have anyone sing at her birthday and her answer was Mel Gibson. I just looked at her with a scowl and she said, "Well you didn't say it had to be a singer." *sigh* She had a point.

Back to her fantasy. She once fantasized that she was driving along and was pulled over. Who should walk up to her car? None other than Officer Mel Gibson!!

What do you think she did? I'm gonna give you three guesses...

Does your first guess Talullah unbuttoning her shirt and showing Officer Gibson her cleavage??? Well, you're wrong! As Talullah so elegantly put it one time...she's got nothing to cleave.

Does your second guess involve Talullah performing sexual acts on Officer Gibson???? Well, you're wrong!! I'm not sure why but that was not the first thing to come to her mind.

Does your third guess involve Talullah pulling a gun on Officer Gibson??? Ding! Ding! Ding!

We asked her what she did at that point and her answer was "nothing, that's it." What the fuck! She fantasizes about being pulled over by Mel Gibson and the big climax is her pulling a gun on him?? Mind of a man woman!! Mind of a mad woman!!!

I'm not sure which is more weird--her fantasy or the fact that she told her friends who would never forget and who would bring it up over and over again for years and probably include it in her eulogy when she finally passes over to whatever awaits her in the afterlife.

Knowing what we know now I guess maybe Talullah was a prophet. She knew a long time ago that the pig deserved to have a cap popped in his ass even if she secretly wanted to bite his ass instead.

Chick out...

*Note: The attached picture of Mel Gibson is from when he was still hot. He now looks like he's been bitched slapped by a jackhammer. I just couldn't bear to use a recent picture even if he is bat shit crazy.

28 Truths of Everyday Life...take 2

Continuing my series on 28 Truths of Everyday Life…today I’ll tackle:

10. Bad decisions make really good stories.

This entire blog is a testament to that truth. In fact, it's the way I live my damned life. I’ll share a little different kind of story with you this time…

My friend Willow has a chronic and severe case of foot-in-mouth disease. She’s not a mean person but she just has a way of saying the exact wrong thing to the exact wrong person at the exact wrong moment. She’s really more of a victim of bad timing.

She has a knack of asking how you like your new car right after you’ve totaled it or how your job is going right after you’ve been fired or how your marriage is doing right after you’ve found out your husband is cheating on you or…well you get the picture.

Case in point…

Willow loves most anything to do with Christmas. This includes an almost fanatical love Christmas music. She knows all the songs…religious, secular, good, bad, and ugly.

One year at her job they were talking about different Christmas-related songs. She pipes up and says something about how she really doesn’t want to hear the song “Please Daddy Don’t Get Drunk this Christmas”. (See I told you she knows them all. She doesn’t like them all but she knows them all.)

She said everyone got really quiet. I’ve always envisioned that everyone’s mouth was agape and their eyes got as big as saucers as they stared at her in horror while she slapped her thigh and threw back her head letting loose a horse laugh that rattled the walls. You see…she was the only one laughing.

Bad decision…good story.

Someone pulled her aside and ask if she knew that one of the girls standing there had an alcoholic father. Of course she didn’t but with her track record she should have….what are the chances that Willow is going to start belting Please Daddy Don’t Get Drunk This Christmas at any time, much less when the daughter of an alcoholic is standing right in front of her.

This would never happen to a normal person but for poor foot-in-her-mouth Willow plagued by bad timing? She could be standing in Brazil, make a crack about Coca Cola, and somehow offend a long lost relative of Thomas Fucking Jefferson. Really…it would happen to her!!!!

Chick out…

The art of vacuuming

Last week my mother informed me that in order to vacuum adequately you must make 3 passes with the vacuum cleaner. Whattttttt theeeeee hellllllll??????? She's always been a clean freak but now I'm decided that she's out of her fucking mind.

I work at my job 9+ hours so I can take off every other Monday. On top of that I commute 40+ miles each way through hellish traffic. So...I'm doing really well to run the bastard of a vacuum cleaner even once over any of my floors in a given week. In fact, if I'm able to complete that feat I feel like a damned olympic champion! Hell, I march around feeling all high and mighty whenever I don't have clumps of dog hair clinging to the baseboards or covering my coffee table.

Three passes with a vacuum? She's certifiably crazy.

At this very moment I can shove my hand down in between any of my couch cushions and come up with a handful of stuffing from a stuffed animal. Why? Because I unhook my cushions and vacuum underneath them about twice a year. Whenever I do it, the dogs come running and try to grab the stuffing and run off with it before the vacuum can suck it up. I feel that it's best to just leave it hidden!!

Guess how often my mother vacuums her couch.....every week...and she never even sits on it!!!!

It takes her hours to vacuum her house. I'm not going to tell you how long it takes me to do the deed but let's just say it can be measured in minutes. Of course, "Alice" vacuums my entire basement so that saves me some time.

For those of you that have never met "Alice"...she's a Roomba and I love her dearly. It takes that little robotic bitch about an hour to vacuum down there so I guess she follows my mother's rule of thumb.

I try not to watch her because she makes me feel like an inadequate housekeeper. She spins and whirls around like a maid on crack. She doesn't get hung up on rugs, never knocks things over, and gets up all the crap on the floor which is better than I do.

And guess what...I've noticed that she makes 3 passes. Bitch!!!

Chick out...

28 Truths of Everyday Life

Someone recently emailed me a list of 28 truths about everyday life. They were so funny that I was inspired to address them on the blog in a series of 28 posts. Today I’m going to start with…..

#26. There’s no worse feeling than that millisecond you’re sure you are going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.

I think we’ve all flipped over backward in a chair but I once took it one step further.

When I was about 4 or 5 years old I came up with the idea to sit on top of a broom handle. I’m not sure where this not-so-bright idea came from but in my weird and crazy little girl imagination I just knew I could do it.

I got our broom, which was a straw broom like this:

I then grabbed a stool and climbed on top. I thought I was going to be able to stand the broom up and sit on top of the handle just like you’re sitting on a chair. Straight back and knees bent. Just like this… Oh year...that makes a lot of fucking sense. Let the fun begin!!!!

At that young age I didn’t understand the physics of balancing a child-sized ass on a stick that was about an inch and a half in diameter much less the possible implications of sitting an ass that has a hole in it on top of that stick. On top of a stick that had about a foot of straw bound the bottom.

Did I think I was a fucking illusionist?? Sit on top of a broom handle like I’m sitting on a chair?? I’m not even sure David Copperfield could master that feat without damaging himself.


So back to the stool. I stood there and steadied the broom beside of me. Keeping my hand on the the broom handle, I eased by ass back and sat down, removing my feet from the stool. Almost immediately, the broom bristles collapsed and I went flying backward. I thought death was near! My ass hurt from the broom, my head hurt from crashing into the floor, and my pride hurt from not being able to do the stunt. Had I fallenl through the floor I would have crawled off in shame underneath the house and died like an injured rat.

I had been undergoing this venture in privacy, of course. My parents would have stopped me immediately and probably whacked my ass with the broom. They both came running as soon as they heard the crash and found me sprawled out in front of washer and dryer with my culprits: Mr. Broom and Mr. Stool.

What was I supposed to tell them?? Yes, Mother…Father, I was trying to sit atop a broom handle. Uh yeah but I think it sounded more like: Yeah..sniffle…I tried to sit on the broom..sniffle.

They didn’t really care about how it happened all they wanted to know was if I’d hurt myself. Did I hurt myself? Hell yeah, I was nearly sodomized by a broom handle and my body slammed into a hardwood floor at roughly the speed of sound. However, my reply was No, I’m okay.

A few hours later I finally confessed that my butt hurt but I wouldn’t even verbalize it. I just told my father that I had indeed hurt myself and pointed to the pained lump of flesh that was my ass.

I was an idiot! Hell, I still am! But at least I learned a great lesson that day...unless you want shove a broom up your ass and poke a whole in your bowel never try to balance yourself on the end of the broom.

Chick owwwwwwwwwt…

Father's Day

I lost my daddy to cancer at 12:35 am on December 17, 2005. Every year on Father's Day I get in a funk. This year I decided to try and shake it by checking out Justin Halpern's blog "Shit My Dad Says".





Gotta be honest with you...it worked!! I laughed till I thought my bladder was going to turn wrong side out. I might have actually cracked an ovary but I'm not exactly sure.



I've added it to the elite list of blogs I follow. Check it out in my Super Cool Blogs box to the left. It's totally worth it.



By the way, Justin has released a book and has a half hour sitcom starring William Shatner coming out this fall. Both carry the same title as the book. Funny, funny stuff!!!



Chick out and remember...hug your daddy today. :)

Sharts, zombies, and various other Nonsense

The other night I dreamed that I was trying to get my friend Willow to go in halfsy with me to buy a piece of property to build a cabin on. While we were looking around, I sat on a tree stump and farted and shat my pants. So I actually sharted. The realtor was there and I was afraid she would smell me. She never did...or she acted like she didn't smell me.

Then.. we ended up in a store with our friends Talullah and Leilani. Willow was telling me she couldn't afford her half of the $500 per month it would cost to buy the property and I was trying to figure out how I could swing the entire amount. We were looking at used books at the time.

Then...I was somehow transported to a restaurant in my hometown where I talked to a man that I used to work with here in Maryland. Then a guy whom I went to high school with crept over beside me, sat down, and layed his head on my shoulder.

Then...I got up and went in a back room where they were decorating for a baby shower. I looked around and thought, 'These are the cheapest decorations I've ever seen." Talullah was there and as we walked out of the room we encountered another guy we went to high school with. She hugged him and I ignored him. I was afraid I had offended him.

Then...I decided to take a shower (remember I did shit my pants a while back) but the shower stalls were in the middle of the restaurant and the shower curtains were too tiny to cover me. I decided to keep my clothes on and wash only my hair. Three men were watching me and I yelled at them. I finished washing my hair but my pants were still full of shit.

Then...Willow, Leilani, Talullah and I all ended up together again and we left the restaurant. As we got in our car (a Thing...remember those?) we were attacked by three zombies. I realized that one of them was only acting like a zombie so I kicked him in the face...while I was driving. I was actually steering a Thing, working the gas and break with one foot, and kicking a faux zombie in the face with another. It was like a Will Smith movie.

Then...my alarm clock went off and I woke up.

Whew!!!! This one was crazier than the one I had a few weeks ago where someone tossed a woman into the air and she turned into a human sized tongue depressor!!!

Holy shit...what is wrong with me???

Chick out...

Talullah and her sarcophagus

The technical definition of a sarcophagus is a stone coffin usually bearing sculpture or inscriptions. In the case of my friend Talullah, a sarcophagus is a structure she builds around a public commode and it’s made of toilet paper. Layers and layers of toilet paper. So much so that I envision that by the time the sarcophagus is completely built she only has to lean against it to do her business.

Poor Talullah suffers from a genetic disorder…she can’t squat or hover over a toilet seat. I’m not sure if she doesn’t have the leg strength or her legs are too short or she doesn’t have the balance or what but she cannot do it.

Have a mentioned she’s a bit of a tad bit of a germaphobe?

Did you know that cheap, single ply toilet paper will protect you against any germ or virus growing on a toilet seat? Me neither but if you use enough of it, it apparently forms a germ tight barrier between the seat and your ass, which everyone knows is the cleanest part of your body. Right?? That’s exactly why you must build the toilet paper sarcophagus...to protect the cleanliness of the part of your body that expels turds and pee.

That’s not all….oh no….

She also constructs a toilet paper mitt around her hand to wipe herself. One time we were out and had to go to the bathroom. Unfortunately, there was no toilet paper in her stall. I passed her a roll that probably had enough to wipe my patootie nine or 10 times. She looked at it and said, “This isn’t enough!!”

Why does she have to encase her own hand to wipe her own ass? How does she get the toilet paper mitt off without getting “stuff” all over her hands? How many toilets has the girl clogged during her lifetime? Questions I’m not sure have answers.

So that’s my friend Talullah. She resides in a different kind of world. A world where her ass is cleaner than a public toilet but not so clean that she wants to chance ever touching it. A world where she closes the stall door on a public bathroom and whips toilet paper around like a rhythmic gymnast doing a ribbon routine at the Olympics. A warped world but she loves it there.

Chick out...

The African Ted Bundy??

This past weekend I went to one of my least favorite places in the world…Home Depot. I hate Home Depot but I’m not going to go into that here because that’s boring and has nothing to do with my story. However, for the remainder of the story I will refer to it as The Devil’s Crotch…that’s how much I hate it!!!

I specifically went to The Devil’s Crotch to pick up some plants for my backyard. I parked near a corral for carts (or buggies as we call them in the south) so I wouldn’t have to go into the store to get one. I drag the buggy out and head over to do some shopping.

As I round my car I see an employee of The Devil’s Crotch coming toward me. I smiled and said hello like I always do because I’m southern and we speak to everyone. This was his reply in a low, creepy voice with an African accent:

“I like yo figger.
Some li the boooone but some li da meat?

Translation:

“I like your figure.
Some like the bone but some like the meat.”

You’re probably wondering what I did next right? Well I just said, “Alrighty then”, walked on to the store, and bought my damned flowers.

What was I supposed to do? He reminded me of an African Ted Bundy. All he needed was a fake cast on his arm and a Volkswagen bug with the back seat taken out.

No thanks…he can like the meat all the likes he just can’t taste it.

Chick out…

Dance recitals

Late spring, early summer also known as Dance Recital Season. Those cute little girls, in those cute little outfits, doing those cute little dances. It's just precious!! Here they are dressed as little flowers, with tutus, and feathers tapping or strutting all over the stage, always with an eye off-stage to follow the dance instructor. Not a one of these really knows what she's doing but damn it she's having fun and she's cute as a button.

So on Friday at work, one of my co-workers told me he was going to his daughter's recital the next day. Not very shocking, right. Right! Except for the fact that she's about 26 years old. What the hell 26 year old woman takes dance class that has a recital?? I didn't know what to say. I think I just raised my eyebrows and nodded my head but inside my head it was like a whirlwind of craziness and an internal mantra of "weirdo...freako" over and over again.

As odd as that sounds it gets weirder. She's taking tap dance and she's also taking...belly dancing. I know that women take belly dancing for a work-out and that's okay but she was going to have a belly dancing recital!!! A recital that her parents were attending. I can't imagine shimmying around on a stage doing a fertility dance and having it witnessed by my parents. My mother might actually utter the phrase "What the fuck?" if she saw me do such a thing.

Oh but it gets weirder. Can it get weirder? Hell yeah it can!!!! Her husband takes tap dance too so he was going to be part of the recital. What the fuck kind of grown ass, straight man takes tap dance and participates in a recital???

I have sooo many questions:

Was a top hat part of his costume?

Did he actually do jazz hands?

Did he tap to Yankee Doodle Dandy?

Did he do the Lindy?

Did he swing around a light pole like Gene-Friggin-Kelly in "Singin' in the Rain"?

And most importantly....What kind of panties does he wear?

Oh my God...my head is going to explode. I know I'm country and hillbilly but adult dance recitals? Really? Grown men giving recitals? Really??

That's it! I'm taking a pole dancing class and all of y'all are invited to the recital. Don't worry...I'll be handing out blindfolds and barf bags at the door because I know it'll be gross and disgusting.

Chick shimmying and gyrating out...

What...the...hell????

Take a damned gander at this....

So, what they hell do you think this is?

The island of misfit penises?

The evolution of the penis?

Fire sale at a sex shop?

Wrong, wrong, and wrong!!!

These were fashioned by my friend's young daughters and are "goody bags" made from homemade Kool-Aid play-doh. Oh my, those girls and their imaginations!!! I'm not sure what kind of goody bags they're supposed to be but they're frickin' AWESOME!!

I want to be these little princesses friend when they grow up because they're gonna be hilarious and cool as hell...just like their nutty mother.

Chick out...

Was I deaf or dumb?

On my drive home this evening I was listening to my favorite afternoon Sirius radio show...Whatever with Alexis and Jennifer. They were talking about an offensive statement that made me chuckle.

The phrase was "Jew him down". The phrase itself didn't make me chuckle...it was the memory associated with it. When I was little we got most of our furniture and appliances at a local store ran by a man known as Pothead. He was not a gentleman who walked around in a marijuana haze nor do I remember his head looking like a pot so I'm not sure where the name came. Whatever...that's not what made me chuckle either.

Every time we went there to buy something it turned into what seemed like an hours long process. Pothead and my daddy negotiated back and forth, back and forth until they finally settled on a price that made Daddy happy. One time we walked out with a new color TV and a stuffed hawk to sit on top of it. I...am...not...kidding. As a final bid my father agreed to the price only if Pothead threw in the bird.

Daddy always said he was going to "Jew Pothead down". Never having heard the word Jew I associated it with a word I did know. In my little, sheltered, hillbilly world he said he was going to "chew Pothead down". I had no idea what chewing had to do with the process but I did know all the chewing resulted in the best price.

That jogged my memory to all sorts of things I heard incorrectly when I was a kid. I was always replacing unfamiliar words with familiar words. I was some sort of weird vocabulary savant!

For instance, once when watching Gilligan's Island I was very confused because the castaways were scared of sammwiches (sandwiches for you uppity folks). Why would a bunch of people (including millionaires) marooned on an island would be afraid of a sammwich. Were they crazy??? Sometime later I realized they were afraid of savages. Oh hell...I was a kid growing up in the Appalachian Mountains! We had hill people, crazy people, drunks, and half wits but we had no savages.

Honest mistake, right? There's more...

My mother used to take quick baths in the sink every now and then. She would say, "I'm just going to take a horse bath". Nope that's not what she said but it's what I heard. She was saying "whore's bath". I was 5 years old. I had no idea what a whore was (Miss Kitty ring a bell?) or how it took a bath but I knew what a horse was and had seen the guys on Bonanza washing their horses down using buckets of water. Made sense to me that my mother took a horse bath every once in a while!!

One more...

As a child I became fixated on a song I had heard about boys named Peter. Sang it all the time but sang it at a volume of 10+ everytime The Brady Bunch came on the TV. I mean I would really belt it out....

"It was a one eyed, one horned, flyin' purple Peter eater

One eyed, one horned, flyin' purple Peter eater

A one eyed, one horned, flyin' purple Peter eater

Sure looks strange to me."

What the fuck??

You see in my childish world, I thought there was a one eyed, one horned monster that flew around and ate little boys named Peter. I sang it in honor of Peter Brady everytime the Brady Bunch came on. One day my mother yelled at me and told me to stop singing it because it wasn't nice. She didn't explain to me that peter was another name for a pecker, whacker, or dildy...which were the anatomically incorrect names we used for penis.

My goodness...I thought I was serending Peter about his possible troubles with a one eyed, one horned monster that would gobble him up when I was basically singing about a horny cyclops that ate dick. I had no choice but to grow up to become a twisted adult!!!

So was I deaf or was I dumb? I prefer to think that I was imaginative. I mean it takes an imagination to envision a bunch of Peters running around on a deserted island trying to chew down a bunch of ham sammwiches, don't you think?

Chick out...

All good things come to an end...

I had to say goodbye to an old "friend" this weekend. It was a very, very emotional moment. Let me tell you about it.

About 7 years ago I was lucky enough to find this friend. Day in and day out this special friend was always there for me. Never have I experienced so much comfort and warmth in a friendship. Well I guess friendship really doesn’t describe what we had. We were really closer than that.

This friend saw all my emotions….was there for me when I was sad, virtually glowed when I was happy, saw me naked (yikes!!). We were more like "friends with benefits". You get the picture...

Although we were close my part of the friendship was more taxing. It was co-dependent…I was the caretaker and depended upon for everything. The friendship had begun to wear thin and my friend became fragile. I tried to take care but then it came to an end this weekend.

We were in curled up in bed draped in warmth and comfort. It felt soooo good. I decided it was time for me to get up so I stretched out…and all the love and concern I had fostered for long ended. I knew my friend was fragile but I wasn’t aware of just how fragile. When I stretched my damned foot went right through my friend. No…it didn’t physically hurt friend. You see my friend was my favorite set of sheets. Yeah…I stretched out and my foot went straight through my fitted sheet.

DAMN IT!!!!

I have so many sets of sheets but none of them were as soft and comfortable as these. I took them off every Saturday morning, washed and dried them, and put them back on the bed. The pillowcases were getting a tiny bit frayed then a couple small holes appeared in the top sheet. Oh Lord…I knew the end was near!!

I had babied these sheets for the last year. I started to wash them on the gentle cycle. I removed them and put them on very gently. They were basically in a sort of hospice for sheets.

The morning they ripped I actually looked at them and considered stitching the rip. Then I said out loud, “What the hell?? This is not the Great Depression!!! Throw ‘em away!!!”

I removed them from the bed for the last time. It was a sad moment as I rolled them into a ball and shoved them into the garbage.

All good things come to an end…even sheets.

Chick out…*sniff sniff*

hello...........................

Holy hell!!!!!

Look at the cobwebs in this place. Single gal has been gone for a while but she's coming back. First I have to clean this nasty, damned mess up!!!!

Chick out...

Girl, you are crazy!

I just went to pee and realized that I have my panties on inside-out and backwards!

It’s been one of “them days”. Hell, it’s been one of “them weeks”!!!!

Chick out…