Sharon Y. Edlin's Blog, page 9

Oh, My Freaking Lord!

Well, hello all. It’s been a bit since I’ve had the time and energy to blog given the busy Christmas hustle and now pending is a new year. Where the hell did 2016 go anyway?

So, lately, I have been frequenting the big Wal-mart by our house y’all, and I know what you’re thinkin’, “What the hell now?” And that is exactly what I said as my husband and I walked up to the entrance the other day, buying some stocking stuffer stuff, when there was an older man in worn out dirty jeans, a ratty t-shirt, tan jacket, beat up tennis shoes, a white beard, and a ball cap. Here’s what got us . . .

Old man Jenkins was pressed up rather rudely to the side of the building against some hard looking bricks with two younger dudes, obviously hired under-cover security, who had their various body parts on old dude trying to hold him in place and get this, old man Jenkins was just repeatedly attempting to writhe away from them and damn run for it. In the 20 seconds it took my husband and I to walk from our car to the front entrance, old man Jenkins tried exactly 4 times to run.

At the last attempt, his ball cap flew off and he started spewing some ugly ass words and then, as we were walking in, I heard him begging the young dudes just to let him go. Once inside, we observed some of the employees inside watching the whole thing with amused looks on their faces and then I hear, “Hey, Wal-mart lady, there is some old man being harassed out there and they keep slamming him into the wall. You need to tell the manager.” And as I turned around to see where the most vile Elmo type voice ever produced out of an oral cavity, here’s what I saw . . .

A woman about 5′ 4″ tall, skinny body, but her belly was plump with God help it, a kid inside, she had on a tank top and her boobs, which were unharnessed, were heaving out of the top of her tank top and oh good golly, I see nipple. In addition, she had on yoga pants with no underwear, ratty flip-flops, and God bless her someone has given her the ugliest most uneven pixie hair cut I have ever seen. Her face looked as if she had cross-bred with an alien as I have never seen such big bugged out eyes in my life. She scared the hell outta me. I think I even gasped a little and got elbowed by my husband.

Now, if that’s not bad, her friend was about the same height and size minus a bun in the oven and minus the alien-like eyes. Oh no, she had a whole ‘what the hell’ look of her very own.

In a very disgusting attempt at the latest ombre type coloring of hair, her roots were black and her hair was yellow and greasy as hell. She had her long hair in two braids like Laura Engels Wilder. She too was in a t-shirt and yoga pants with no underwear and her voice was like Barry White, just the opposite of the high voice from hell. What a pair.

After drunk Elmo voice girl yelled at the Wal-mart employee about old man Jenkins getting harassed, her and Barry proceeded to talk rather loudly about how bad Wal-mart is and how no one cares about people anymore and OMG, look at this camo purse, ain’t it so cute.

Have you ever seen someone see something that shocks them or grosses them out and they get that look on their face of, “What the hell am I seeing?” It looks like this . . .

This was me. I felt like I was on another planet of madness and lunacy. I fully expected someone from Punked to jump out and start laughing. But no, this shit’s real y’all and if you want to be apart of the madness, just take a trip to your local Wal-mart.

Now, if you are really feeling crazy, go there at night. That’s when the REAL freaks come out!

Love y’all!!♥

Ambushed at Wal-Mart

I don’t know what in the hell it is about Wal-mart that brings in the freaks and I must have some freak luring magnetic waves action that just lures them right up to me, next to me, behind me, and right up in my damn face at times. Well, today, I did a ‘quick’ run-in to get some last-minute things for Christmas in-between seeing my sweet OT kids. Ha, what a freaking laugh!

I’m nearly done and I seriously can’t believe that no ‘incidents’ have happened to me, I swear its something every damn time, I’m not kidding!! Well, I thought too soon . . .

I’m walking down the spaghetti sauce isle trying to find picante sauce for my eggs each morning. Up ahead, as I was browsing for the picante, I spied a rather hefty woman in one of those motorized scooters and she had all kinds of weird shit sticking out of her basket. As I neared her she blurts out, with spit to boot, “Oh-my-freaking-God! Can you believe that they would put the alfredo sauce all the way up top there? I mean, I’m in a damn scooter!” I looked up and sure enough, it was on the top shelf. I also looked at her eye level and realized there were jars smack in front of her and lo and behold before I could point it out, she ‘suddenly’ saw it. Ambushed y’all, damn ambushed! She knew damn good and well where that alfredo was. Sigh!

The conversation went from alfredo sauce to her double-wide was too small for a motorized scooter, her 72-year-old mother lives in a double-wide in their backyard, she raises rabbits for their meat, she buys turkeys after the season and cooks them up, cuts them up, then her and her family ‘eat off it to the carcass’ for months. In addition, it was announced that she can’t reach up under her belly fold to wash hence the stench emanating from her, she has lost a tooth in the back . . . see, as I bend down and smell a dragon’s breath, her husband doesn’t put out anymore because he can’t get it up, her 16-year-old son is lazy and she thinks has gotten his girlfriend pregnant, where did I get my wedding ring, why am I so skinny, why do I wear false eyelashes, and why do I not seem to have a butt. There was a shit ton more but I’m getting damn carpal tunnel syndrome here.

I was astounded at how much information that I did not need added to my life came out of one lady in 15 minutes time. It gets better . . .

I finally break away after she tells me that she feels a lot of gas coming on and I might want to step away . . . I ran!

Not even two minutes later, I hear her in the isle next to the one I was in, gnawing another victim’s ear off about all the above, kid you not. This lady makes a living telling folks about her shit.

It gets even better . . .

While I was making friendly conversation with the lovely lady that had a blue flower in her hair that was as big as her whole head cashier lady, well, guess who pulls up in her scooter in the check out next to us and, kid you not again, proceeds to gnaw the cashier girl’s ear with the exact same spewing she has just released on me, some other lady, and now the poor cashier girl.

What possible pleasure does this women get sharing all of the absurd things she does with people? I really don’t get it!!

When you start talking about the unreachable folds that you can’t get to on your body hence the stench and your victim’s face grimaces as if you have just grabber her by the face and shoved it in the very area you describe, you should take a hint and leave it at just an alfredo conversation lasting 2 seconds. Here’s an example:

TMI scooter psycho: “Will you look how high they put the alfredo?! Oh wait, there it is.”

Me: “Yes, you’ve found it. Good for you.”

TMI scooter psycho: “This sauce is really good. My son just loves it.”

Me: “That’s simply lovely. Have a Merry Christmas.”

And off I go . . . but alas, I had to hear about erectile dysfunction, the underbelly of her belly, and so much more that went way beyond a simple and utterly short conversation. My ears will never be the same.

Alas, bless these people, for they do not know what they do.

Love y’all!!♥

 

 

 

Christmas Songs and Lyrics from Hell

I have been listening to Christmas music since I was a fetus in the womb. Every Christmas, I just loved listening to all the songs that were made just for the holiday of Christmas and there is a whole helluva lot of them.

Some of my favorites are Jingle Bells, The First Noel, and Oh, Come All Ye Faithful, just to name a few. As a child, I really only listened to the melody and maybe knew a few words here and there, especially Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

Well, as I have gotten older and more appreciative of actual lyrics and how they help to enrich the melody, I have made some disturbing discoveries of indirect and direct adultery, emotional distress to a child, pre-rape plans by a gentleman caller, tales of loss, manslaughter, and so much more!

One of the first songs that ever caught my attention was that poor child that wanted a hippopotamus for her Christmas. Like that will ever happen, though the poor dear sings in every year. Someone, please talk to this child and explain the logistics of such a present and also the fact that a hippopotomus could actually kill her!

The other song I found rather pathetic was the one who wanted her two front teeth for Christmas. Have these children bumped their heads too hard? Was this poor girl in a fist fight, lost her teeth, and the Tooth Fairy stole them and the song is really directed at her? Who in the hell would want their teeth back unless of course you are an adult because you would look quite odd having a window into your mouth cavity when you smiled.

And the song about manslaughter where the poor grandma gets taken out by a reindeer, well, that’s just absolutely horrible. Can you imagine the thoughts you would have at the Christmas petting zoo as one of her grand children or her husband saw the reindeer coming towards the fence. Christmas would have a whole new disturbing meaning for your family!

The song that seems so freaking odd to me is Have a Holly Jolly Christmas where one of the lyrics sounds to me like indirect adultry when he says something to the effect that when you see your wife, give her a kiss for me. Have you ever actually followed through with this kind of request? “Oh, honey, this kiss I’m about to give you is from your ex girlfriend, so come here and pucker up.” Um no.

And what about that song singing of the child who saw her mommy kissing Santa Claus. How much therapy is this child going to need? Good Lord, your mom kissing the very man whose lap you sat on last week at the mall. Who knew? And how long has this been going on?

But the most disturbing song to me of all the Christmas songs combined is Baby It’s Cold Outside. This is a song of Roofees, cocktails, a predator attempting to lure a girl into his bedroom, lies, deceit, and the list goes on.

For example, the dude starts singing lies to this poor woman, who should have never gone over to this Christmas psycho’s house in the first place you dumb woman. He says stuff like there is no way a cab can get through the 132 inches of snow that have suddenly befallen the city. What a load of crap! He further lies and says that her eyes are like starlite, maybe that has to do with the Roofee you slipped in her drink because at one point she says, and I quote, “Say what’s in this drink?” Uh huh, you’ve been Roofee’d sister. He keeps feeding her the same bullshit saying, “It’s cold outside.” Run sister, you are in for it! He tells her she’s beautiful and that she has luscious lips, the dude is trying way to hard for a girl he has just Roofee’d because the gig is up in like 15 minutes once it hits her system. He even threatens her and says that if she goes outside she will catch pneumonia and die, is he a damn doctor, y’all? And on and on he goes until the last line they sing together, though she has not sung it thus far coming up with every excuse to leave the Christmas psycho’s lair, “Baby it’s cold outside.” She just nailed the last nail in her own coffin.

Why do we play some of these disturbing songs each year? Why does this lyrical madness haunt me each year and the ramifications of what is being sung?

Well, lyrics aside, to bring it back down to a ‘normal’ level, hah, all the songs, disturbing or not, represent a collaboration of our history of Christmas and each year more songs are made which shape our melodic traditions each year. I find so much humor is some of the songs, but I listen nonetheless and try not to think about the disturbing lyrics that could cost some girl or boy a lot of time in therapy.

Merry Christmas, y’all!!♥

Number 1 or Number 2?

As a child growing up, asking about your personal bathroom visit details was frowned upon, unless it was your mom and she was trying to gauge your health. We just didn’t talk about bathroom details!

Well, things have really changed over the years, A LOT! I saw this change first hand when I had my two kids and they did everything under the sun in those damn diapers and if you were lucky, it all stayed in the diaper. Ha! Fat ass chance!

I remember seeing my ex mother-in-law actually insert a finger into the leg of a diaper to assess the situation inside. Now, she had those fancy long nails and I’ll bet a dime to a dollar that she had to do some deep intensive cleaning up under that nail when she scooped out a bit of number 2. I about barfed in my own lap. Good Lord, who does that?

As my kids aged, each act was given a number and made their way past 2.

1 was poddy

2 was poo

3 was diarrhea

4 was vomit

5 was all the above, God help you!

Now, the other day I knew I was in trouble when my 17-year-old son ran in screaming, “I have to do a number 12!!!” What the hell?

Now, I am one of those people who must be in the bathroom with the door shut and everyone cleared out of the area so I can do my 1 and 2 or sometimes, if the IBS is acting up, number 3. I don’t want folks hearing the certain noises that present themselves as these rather normal events occur in the bathroom, ya know?

I remember being a little girl, I think this is where my utter privacy need began, we were heading out West in the good ‘ole station wagon with that fabulously tasteful simulated wood paneling. We had stopped at Stuckey’s for breakfast and I had to pee and so did my little sister so I was designated as her keeper. As she and I entered into the bathroom, the first thing that hit us was a stench that I believe has never existed on the planet until that moment. In addition, there was women apparently giving birth to her number 2 because you have never heard more moaning, grunting, and at times a bit of screaming. It was at that moment, my sister and I looked at each other and made the immediate decision that we suddenly didn’t need to be witness to this and we could surely hold it as we tore right back out the door.

So, number 1 and 2 took another turn when I was married to the ex. It became a time for a family gathering. I kid you not, I’d get that number 2 urge and it was is if I was the leader and I had three followers filing in behind me. Yes, I would be sitting on the white throne as a full-grown man and two children would sit on the tub and scattered out on the floor sometimes with a note pad and pencil to take notes and talk to me as if we were having tea in the kitchen and this was perfectly ok. No wonder this was the time of some bad constipation for me. Who the hell can poo when there is a meeting going on?

What ALWAYS cracks me up is when I’m working with some of the kids in my clinic and I will excuse myself to go to the bathroom and every single time I get asked this question, “Number 1 or number 2, Ms. Sharon?” I chuckle and answer of course because these kids mean business. Love my OT kids!

So, this morning, what prompted this blog, my husband was wrapped around me in the bed like a rubber band and I said, “Um, honey, can you unwind yourself from my person for I have to use the bathroom,” and without hesitation he mutters, “Number 1 or number 2?”

Love y’all!!♥

 

Dining with Mr. Leisure Suite and Co.

Okay, before I can explain Mr. Leisure Suite, I have to go back about 15 years ago.

My first child was a son, he was unbelievably amazing to me because up to this point, I didn’t hang with kids. They kinda freaked me out and I thought that I might break one, so me having a child was quite the learning experience to say the least.

Twenty-two months later, to my shock, I had a girl. Shocked because I thought for sure it was a boy, but no, a little girl with a helluva lot more crevices than my boy had.

At 2 years old each child got the opportunity to attend a Mother’s Morning Out (MMO) program at our church, or maybe it was 3, heck I can’t remember . . . and that’s where I met my best friend. She was one of the MMO teachers and it was if we were sisters separated at birth.

She and I hit it off instantly and I was glad of two things: 1. I found a fabulous friend and 2. My daughter was going to have an awesome teacher.

So this began our friendship journey and its a long complicated one . . .

We were both into marriages that we were unhappy in and could confide in each other of these unfortunate situations we found ourselves in. We both had other friends that we hung out with separately and never tried to bring all the friends together, I’m not sure why, we just didn’t.

There were  many months we wouldn’t get to talk to each other because of life but it didn’t matter because we could pick up right where we left off when we got back together. She also had the kind of life I had always dreamed of, a place in the country with just the right amount of land for exploration and horses. Riding her very tall horse was wonderful, though I was such a chicken now that I had kids and was worried I’d die and then my then tyrant husband would raise my poor children without me, thus, in my mind back then, ruining them.

My divorce was first followed by falling in love with the man of my dreams several months later. You see, I had already been divorced in my head, heart, and soul for the last two years of my 16 year marriage. It was the only way to survive it.

Not long after all of this, my sweet friend informed me she was done as well and was divorced several months later.

Well, she had to sell the farm, which was heart-breaking for her, and find another house to move her and her two children into. Well, hello Mr. Leisure Suite broker guy who closed on her loan.

Long story short, they fell in love, she tells me its the first time she’s been in love and I tell her I fell in love with my new husband too and it was my first time being in love at 41, they got married, had a baby, though I’m not sure this was part of the plan but he’s an absolute doll that my daughter loves babysitting, and she also inherited two grown step-daughters, not really grown but in high school and college now. So she and I REALLY get each other, if you know what I mean, blending, its tough!

Well, my sweet husband is a bit shy and reserved. I’ve mentioned that he’s very much an introvert and unfortunately his messy divorce, though long ago, still haunts him and has altered his outgoingness a bit. He’s a bit of a homebody and as we go on 4 years of marriage next summer, it seems to be getting a bit worse each year. Also, we are down two children, one in college, and one deciding she was done living with her primary parent and made the decision to move in with the other. Sigh . . . So, he lost two kids in August and is a bit depressed as you’d imagine.

So, for A LOT of months, my sweet friend has been begging me to get  my homebody husband and I to go out with her and her husband and every time I asked my sweetie, he’d just make weird noises and not commit to anything so . . . I grabbed the bull by the horns and made plans and just told him when and where, he no likey that, but it was done.

In comes Mr. Leisure Suite . . .

Now, my friend has told me bits and pieces about her husband and I’ve met him a couple of times briefly but not enough to get a feel for this delightful fellow.

Well, lets just say, dinner with them was a ball and I found myself delighted by the humor her husband seems to have leaking from every pore plus, he and my husband hit it off as if they’d been friends for ages.

We covered subjects candidly such as boob, butts, genitalia, vasectomies, Alabama football, SEC football, and loads of other stuff. Now, why do I call the guy Mr. Leisure Suite?

In the way that only he can pull off he would explain that he’d have his leisure suite on after his vasectomy holding a cocktail, who says that anymore, and who calls a bathrobe a leasure suite? This is the humor that I mean!

He explained that certain areas of his body after the vasectomy were not their normal size lets just say and he went on to tease that he was able to float better than ever in their pool because of their unusual size. I thought my husband would fall to the floor! I nearly pee’d my pants. He spoke so much of his leisure suite that this has become my name for this jolly little fella.

Thank the Lord above I got my husband to go out because I saw that sparkle in his eye again of someone who was having a good time and its been awhile for my poor man as he is a bit depressed as I mentioned earlier.

Me and my friend have decided that we are all going out once a month because we enjoyed each other so much and well, seeing my husband laugh his ass off was wonderful.

Thank you pushy friend o’ mine, you’re not pushy, you know I’m kidding, for getting my man out into the open and who accidentally had a great time. I love you, girl!

I hope all of you can have a couple like Mr. and Mrs. Leisure Suite, it will do you so much good!

Love y’all!!♥

 

The Weenie on My Walk

Well, I have encountered a lot on my daily walks but I did not expect this today.

I have been followed by a droid, witnessed fights between two Asian ladies, which is hilarious to watch y’all because I have not idea what they are saying, and I’ve run across bags of dog crap carelessly dropped along the path.

Additionally, I have come across clothing such as socks, shoes, shorts, and a jacket. Not sure what to think of those discarded items but I press on all the while thinking, “Who loses a whole pair of shorts? Are they running so fast that they just get ripped from their body?”

I’ve also dodged my death when Edward Scissor Arms came at me the other day. That dude freaks me the heck out and from what I’ve seen, anyone that he happens to scissor by seems to do a double take and then slinks uneasy like off of the path so as not to be chopped up to little bits by the over-exuberant swing of his deadly arms.

I’ve also run across a poor unfortunate soul who no doubt about it probably has Tourette’s, as he spews curse words, worse than me, and other words that I have no idea what they are. I feel bad for the fella but he too freaks me the heck out.

I’ve seen folks making out on the path. For example, the other day these probably around early 20’s couple were sitting on the side of the path and they just looked almost like they could be homeless or very unkept. Anyway, as I came up on them, the dude looks up at me and says, “Do you have any spare change?” Um, I’m in leggings, a sports bra, and a t-shirt, I’m pretty sure I don’t have any jingling in my non-existent pockets you moron.

“Um no, I obviously don’t have my purse or pockets so you’re outta luck fella.”

To which he replies, “What about in your bra? I know my girl here likes to keep her money in her bra.” What the hell?

“Um no, I don’t tote money or change in my sports bra.” I wanted to add, “Um, dude, you really shouldn’t be talking about a strangers bra to her,” but I didn’t.

On the way back through, I was hoping they weren’t still there but alas, they were, and they were sucking face but violently. Here’s what I mean . . .

As I looked over, because it looked too weird not to see what was going on, he had a hold of her bottom lip with his teeth and didn’t seem to be letting go anytime soon. She on the other hand was looking up at the sky as if she was bored out of her mind having her bottom lip gnawed the hell off. It was freaking weird!

Now, today, another weird thing happened and I had to laugh and pick it up. I know what you are thinking, “Ewww, why the hell did you pick it up?”

Let me go on before the judging begins . . .

I was about done with my walk and as I was walking down the last long stretch, I saw something pale and pointy lying in the grass. As I got closer, I was shocked to see a weenie and two of his round friends lying in the grass. I had to stop and get a closer look.

Yes, that is indeed a weenie and the two things that hang out with him. My first thought was how in the hell did that get there? My second thought was, “Aw, hell, I can’t let that lay there because there is school tomorrow and all the kids that walk along this sidewalk will see it,” so, I picked it up.

Now, chill, it was a cardboard replica of a man’s junk and no, I was not proud to pick it up and fold it in half. However, I couldn’t wait to get home to show my husband my weird but interesting find and then throw it away. I also proudly thought of myself as a genitalia hero having just prevented young innocent children from seeing this on their walk to school tomorrow.

When I got home, I showed my find to my husband who said, “So that’s where I left it.” Good Lord man, you are a mess!

As I ripped it up to throw away I could see my husband wincing as if it were his parts that I was ripping up. “You are the biggest goober!” He chuckled and resumed his TV watching.

Now, I don’t know where it came from but I feel sure that I was led right to it by the Lord above to expose of it before the children saw it. I told my husband this to which he replied, “You are the savior of us all! Praise Jesus!” Goober!

Love y’all!!♥

 

 

“Whatta U Lookin At?”

There is something about me and Wal-mart when it comes to getting into a fight and I’m not even a violent person, y’all!

So, with Thanksgiving upon us, when the hell did this happen, I made my way to Baby Wal-mart to get my stuff to make green bean casserole. As I am making my way to the check out, normally I do self-checkout but I had a weird thingy that needed measuring or something, so I had to go to a human.

I’m also not a coupon carrying individual and it’s not because I’m rich, that’s just funny as hell, it’s because I don’t have the time, energy, or patience to do the couponing thing, but I did happen to have a coupon for that weird measury thing I was telling you about and it was for $5 off so boy howdy, I was going to save $5!!

Unloading all of my stuff onto the check out stage, I noticed a man come up behind me with, get this, a head of lettuce and a bag of collard greens, “Um, self checkout?” I had quite a few things so dude had to wait a bit but . . .

Check out human swipes the coupon and an error code comes up so, get this, she stands there for 3 of the longest minutes on the planet reading every word of the coupon. In the mean time, Lettuce Head is getting really antsy and making all kinds of breathing come apart sounds he can come up with and it was really getting on my nerves. At one point another couple came up with a bag of dog food, “Um, self checkout?” and the dude says, “Y’all may as well go on because this line isn’t moving because of some coupon issue with this lady.”

Um, buddy, one more word or breath out of you, because he was making the poor human check out girl uneasy, I’m coming at you like the lady in my picture.

FINALLY, the young check out girl calls over her boss and she too, begins to read the coupon . . .

So, this is what I hear, “Damn women with coupons,” under his breath.

I had enough . . .

I whip around, look him dead in the eyes and say, “What was that you said there, buddy?”

He didn’t answer as I kept staring at him and then he finally said, “Well, whatta you lookin at?”

Look out y’all . . .

“I’m looking at a damn impatient fool actually who needs to keep his irritating breathing and opinions in his mouth and not out in the open because they stink! Do you get what I’m saying?” I said this in a raised voice but not out of control, just enough to get my point across in a lady like manner, know what I mean?

At this point the whole area has stopped to stare as I go momma bear on this asshole who was making the people trying to help us very uncomfortable, I was getting impatient too, but they were trying to help me. That pisses me off, y’all!

Dude can’t hold my stare, looks down at his feet, and holds up his hands as if to say, “Naw, I’m good.”

Idiot!

I finally get checked out and Idiot Lettuce Head says, as check out girl asks him how he is, and he yells to my back, “I’d be a whole lot better if there weren’t coupons in the world.”

Here’s what I thought, there was a huge tub of bouquets of flowers by the door, I wanted to desperately to grab one, go back to lettuce head, and beat the living shit out of him with these flowers but I didn’t, because the flowers were gorgeous and he wasn’t worth it.

Well, he wasn’t done with me yet . . .

I had just finish putting my groceries in the car and was crossing the parking lot to put my cart away when lo and behold, lettuce head pulls up, looks at me, snarls, and peels out spewing pebbles all over me.

Here’s what I thought, I’m getting into my car, chasing his ass down, and when I get to him, I’m pulling out my make-believe tazzer and zapping his ass, but, I don’t have a tazzer, I don’t feel like getting a ticket, I have to pee, and he’s not worth it.

I get home, pee, and start unloading groceries as my daughter rounds the corner, takes one look at me and asks me what’s wrong. I say that evidently it is against the male law to have a coupon and that I had another run in at Baby Wal-mart.

My sweet daughter happens to have two friends over, she squeals, goes to her room to get her friends, and they all take seats at the dinner table as I tell them the tale of Lettuce Head. When I’m done, they all clap, I bow, and my daughter says, “Don’t mess with my mama, she one bad ass!”

We all laugh and I hug all of them because they cheered me up. I absolutely love my children and all of their hilarious friends!

To the idiot dude that I had the run in with today, you need to chill out, take a deep breath, and grow some patients, ya know? To make another human being feel unimportant or not good enough is not okay. I still hope you have a Happy Thanksgiving and maybe you’ll choke on your lettuce a little bit and curse me because I did this to you because you had to wait too long and your lettuce went bad, who knows, you’ll come up with something, dude, I’m sure.

Well, anyway, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I hope y’all have a lovely relaxing Happy Thanksgiving and if you eat lettuce, careful not to choke!

Love y’all!!♥

 

Whiskey and Weirdo’s

Well, this weekend was something very special to me and here’s why . . .

My sweet husband of nearly 3 1/2 years was astounded when I told him I had never been to the Jack Daniel’s distillery in Lynchburg, TN! “What, are freaking kidding me, why the heck not?”

“Well, first off, breathe . . . I just never really thought about it is all. How spectacular could it possibly be?”

Our little blended family is in one of those 3-ringed shit shows that I have mentioned before at the moment. It’s ongoing but over the last 3-4 weeks, things have been tense, let’s just say. I have been blessed with a huge increase in referrals to my pediatric OT clinic, thank you God, and have been working A LOT! I love it, of course, but I get tired just like anyone else who has their dream job, we just do.

My husband knows me better than anyone else I know and recognized the bags under my eyes and my haggard gait each night I would meander into the bedroom for bed. So, he surprised me this weekend with a trip to good ‘ole Lynchburg, TN for whiskey, and unbeknownst to me at the time, weirdo’s.

We stayed about 4 minutes outside of downtown at a cabin called ‘The Cedar Cabin’ and I’m just here to say it has got to be the nicest place around and that lady can decorate like nobody’s business. See below.

At night we made big warm fires in the outdoor fireplace and y’all it was so romantic, quiet, and quant!

So, we have tickets for the distillery tour with tasting at the end starting at 1:15 pm on Saturday and that’s when the weird cuts in.

My husband and I are standing there at the distillery lobby waiting for our tour to be called when a stench hits my olfactory system and I have to keep from gagging. After smelling her, I then heard her yelling at what I assume was her husband, about the fact that he just breathed on her face, he was standing too close to her, doesn’t the corn mash smell like baby crap in a diaper, etc., etc. I just HAD to turn around and here’s what I saw . . .

Behold a glorious over-stuffed orange, wearing glasses, a stench, and an attitude. Now, I love all people, big, small, or otherwise but I figured out the stench straight away. When a rather very large person bathes, there are parts to them that they either can’t reach, or forget and at times, can give off an odor. God bless her. When I turned around she yelled in my face, “What tour are y’all waiting on?” I politely told her the 1:15 pm one and she yelled back at me, “We’re waitn’ for the 1:55 pm.” To which I replied, “Well, great, enjoy.” She eyed me a bit more before I turned my attention back to my husband who looked at me and said, “You just couldn’t help yourself could you? Why did you turn around?” I told him that I would tell him later and asked if the stench had hit him yet cuz it was about to.

Our tour is called and off we go. Now, I am a HUGE people watcher and always have been. This is one of the many reasons my husband and I get along so well, he is too.

During our 1.5 hour tour I observed a 7 foot tall dude who was so hung over, I feared some of the smells would cause him to hurl all over our party so I always made sure I knew where he was and if he was close, I’d grab my husband’s hand and flee in the other direction. The other dude he was with I swear had damn lice falling out of his greasier than the aftermath of cooking a shit ton of bacon hair and the other guy was alright, with nothing outstanding about him. Thank God.

I observed a stunning girl in her early 20’s with the most ridiculous doofus I have ever seen. What do you see in him, girl? And this dude had no concept of life, for example, he parted the sea of bodies standing listening to our guide, to tie not one but two shoes, and holy cow he moved about as fast as a drunk snail. Here’s the thing, he could have gone to the back of the group and done this but, instead, he turns into Moses and parts us so he can tie his ugly ass shoes. Oh, I’m not done with him, stay tuned.

There was another couple there and the girl had those huge gauge things in her ears, she looked like an Aborigine, and her boyfriend looked like a weasel. They were very nice but didn’t go together, ya know?

We had another couple who was also nice but this lady kept saying, “OMG, it smells so good, it smells so good . . .,” I swear she said this phrase 863 times plus but she would later crack me up at the tasting. I’ll get there.

Next up was the couple who were probably in their late teens along with the girl’s mommy. The boy had some job where his phone kept ringing ‘and he just HAD to answer it,’ which really really annoyed the heck out of the girlfriend as he rolled his eyes for the 12th time he was called in 30 minutes and had to step away to argue with a customer about chicken. Sounds like a butcher emergency to me.

The older biker couple were pretty cool and the chick could have run the tour because she seemed to know everything about everything about whiskey. Her husband was about 6 foot 10 and didn’t look a biker with his ball cap on but assured me he was through and through. I had to laugh at that because to me he looked like a Sasquatch, redneck, wanna be biker, but what do I know?

We get to the end of the tour, I have no idea how 7 foot hung over fella made it, I say that with all honesty. I also hear “it smells so good” girl hoot and holler as we enter the tasting area. We had 5 glasses filled with various whiskey’s plus a glass of ice water.  See below.

I’m not much of a whiskey girl myself, but I was kinda curious how this was going to go down. To my right was the mommy of the ticked off at her boyfriend for being on the phone and she must have been damn dehydrated out the gate because before we even started tasting our whiskey samples, she had already downed her 2nd glass of water. Not sure what to make of that, really.

So, the guide tells us to sniff first, then take a bit on our tongues, let it sit there, and then swallow. Holy hell what have I just let travel down my throat? It burned like fire, and in fact, the rest did too. On the last one, I faked it. I smelled it, pretended to drink it, set it down, and then downed my water.

Back to doofus and his gorgeous girlfriend . . .

Our guide has taken us through all of the samples and then asks the question, “Does anyone have any questions I can answer?” To which doofus blurts out with the dumbest grin on his face, I wanted to hum a glass at that face so bad, and says, “This is good.” This is good, to my knowledge, is not a question you idiot and if that was your way of fitting in, well, you suck and still don’t fit in. As a matter of fact, how much do you pay that pretty girl to attend events with you because there is no way in hell she goes willingly with someone like you.

“It smells so good” made me almost fall out of my chair laughing my ass off. I look over at her because the itch in my hand to throw a glass at doofus was so strong, I had to look away. Here’s what I see . . .

She has turned green, she is guzzling her water, she has sweat clean through her white shirt, and she is fanning herself. The look on her face was of someone who had just tasted a lemon for the first time, broke out into a hot flash, and was about to projectile hurl all over the place. Um, what happened to “it smells so good” 980 times? What a poser! Bless her heart!

Well, anyway, my husband and I had a ball all around and I am so thankful for these weekends, although rare, that we can get away from it all and just be with each other, people watch, and do something new. To boot, I get great blogging material! It’s a win win I’d say!!

Love y’all!!♥

 

 

 

Living With A Serial Killer Or Two

Living with two K9 American serial killers can be a daunting situation at times!

The white dog on the right is my Pomeranian, Bijon, and Poodle mix named Scout and the dog on the left is my rescue Chihuahua-Terrier mix named Lucy. Scout’s AKA is ‘The White Stalker’ and Lucy’s AKA is ‘The Shedding Nightmare.’ I love these two so much but somethings got to give with this killing spree these two heathens are on. STOP THE MADNESS!

I have found dead bodies all over the house and if you step on one just right it squeaks thus scaring the shit out of you. There are times, on the way to the bathroom when my bladder is so full it hurts, for example, that I will step on one of these little cuss dead bodies, it will squeak, and I will nearly wet my pants from the scare. See below.

Don’t even ask me what kind of creature it is because I have no idea what I’m looking at either. The poor thing has been ripped to shreds, gutted, and I believe its neck is broken. The two K9 Americans have no idea that it is beyond dead and cannot be violently shook back to life, I think this my be a K9 American’s way of CPR, I’m not sure, no matter how much they shake the shit out of it and no matter how loud they growl, it ain’t coming’ back to life, it ain’t Lazarus.

The other day I was innocently watering my plants when I nearly stepped on a dead chipmunk body as ‘The Stalker’ came running over all hyped up on his doggie speed dancing around the thing so proud he was nearly wetting his fur. I on the other hand, as I got the shovel for the 97th time that week, was appalled, especially when the maggots all fell out as I was scooping it up to go and add to the growing pile of the fallen chipmunks. Oh, hell, there goes my breakfast! There has been a shock and awe reinged down on all the chipmunks who even think they can come in our yard, bodies everywhere, maggots galore, and I just don’t think I can take anymore death and did I mention those maggots make my skin crawl?

Now, ‘The Shedder’ has her own methods of death and its a bit gentler, if you can call violently dying gentle, let’s just say she shakes the shit out of the mangled ‘thing’ lying on the floor but she makes it look lady like somehow. See below.

That red thing there used to be one of those long red dogs that those Pet Smart commercials show when that little Dachshund is carrying it around and its adorable. Well, this poor soul has been so disfigured I have no idea why we don’t bury the poor thing but The Shedder loves this thing as she growls and shakes it horribly but in a gentle lady like way, mind you.

I’ve seriously considered changing my K9 American’s names to ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ as some of their behaviors are starting to look a little too similar and its a bit scary if you ask me.

So, I thought of something one day, how about I get an indestructible toy that they can’t get killed and by God, I found it. See below.

By some miracle Bonnie and Clyde have been unable to dismember this Chew Tuff dinosaur! They’ve even tried working together to rip it in half playing a violent tug of war and NOTHING, they can’t break this thing. I even saw them get mad at each other because they had tried so hard and both failed so they growled at each other as if to say, “You weakling, its your fault this isn’t working!”

I will have to say this, Bonnie and Clyde are two of the greatest dogs there is and I love them to bits. An owner’s love looks past the serial killing, the dead bodies, and the maggots and still loves them. They better be thankful I love them unconditionally otherwise I’d call the cops AKA dog catcher and send them to jail!

Love y’all and you too my K9 Bonnie and Clyde!!♥

 

DEAR MR. TRUMP,

Dear Mr. Trump,

Well, dude, you did it. I don’t know how but I’m happy for you and your family, now get your ass to work to help our country that has been suffering from a form of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from all of the greed and corruption over too damn many years to count! Please, sir!

Now, you are one outspoken son of a gun and you’ve said some really dumb shit but I think you can turn your enthusiasm for not having much of a filter into something good. For example, calling out the crooks in politics, oh I don’t know, maybe Hillary? You should start there. Make her an example of a criminal that is not above the law. Why, you may ask, oh I don’t know because if any of us did the crap she did, we’d be in jail, maybe even on death row because our actions caused people to die, American people to die. How does she live with herself? Probably heavy meds, I’m guessing. News flash, NO ONE IS ABOVE THE LAW AND NO ONE SHOULD BUY THEIR WAY OUT OF BREAKING THAT LAW!

Another example, this country was built on blood, sweat, and tears . . . on death, on some really shitty things tripping our nation up along the way and yet perfectly capable human beings choose to flush their dignity down the shitter to sit around, not work, and still get paid. Um, no, that’s not how this nation needs to work anymore. ENOUGH! I have seen people with no legs, arms, with brain damage do things you would never imagine. They work, they strive for greatness, and they do it! That’s called drive. Mr. Trump, light a fire here sir so these folks can get their drive back and get the plunger out and maybe retrieve their dignitiy in the process. ENOUGH OF THIS CRAP!

And PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD stop taxing the crap out of us. I swear to anyone reading that we all feel like we take 2 steps forward and 11,246 steps backwards everyday and its killing us. For example, I own a Pediatric Occupational Therapy practice. I’m a one woman show. I see kids from the age of 1-18 years old with developmental delay. What I do sir, is help these children soar. Help them soar to their greatest potential possible! I love my job with all of my heart and it honestly does not feel like work, but I’ll tell you this, I work my ass off for these kids that I love and their families that have to live each day with a child with delay, and it ain’t easy. These families and these kids are warriors, sir, warriors! Now, my point is, I am taxed so heavily that it hurts sir, it hurts, and I fear that I can’t go on doing good for these kids so help all of us small businesses out so we can continue to do the good God put us on the Earth to do.

Maybe back off of our taxes from a personal stand point too. 2 steps forward, sir, and 11,246 steps back . . . it can’t go on!

And, damn it, get our jobs back! I am so tired of seeing things stamped “Made NOT IN THE USA, ARE YOU SERIOUSLY EVEN LOOKING AT THIS STAMP? DUH!” This is like opening your wallet up to any foreign passerby and saying, “Here ya go, take and you shall receive and I, well, I’m a bloomin’ idiot!”

I could go on but the bottom lines are, we are a nation in trouble, we are hurting, we have PTSD, we need help. Please help us make this nation great again. Use all of your crazy ass energy to do good for us because we can’t take much more. I noticed you had a cutie son up there on the stage with you this morning, think of him and the impact your decisions make because it will be on him and all the other children that have to shoulder the shit that politics has caused. I don’t want your sweet boy to suffer, so please think with your heart as well, its okay, you aren’t a wimp, sir by putting your heart into it a little. I’m glad you are a business man too, I think that’s gonna help out a lot.

Dude, congrats to you and your family, now . . . SHOW US WHAT YA GOT AND MAKE IT AWESOME, SIR!!!

Love y’all!!♥