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…